ADELA CATHCART

Volume Three

By George MacDonald

CONTENTS OF THE THIRD VOLUME. 

CHAPTER

I. MY UNCLE PETER. --CONTINUED

II. THE GIANT'S HEART

III. A CHILD'S HOLIDAY

IV. INTERRUPTION

V. PERCY

VI. THE CRUEL PAINTER

VII. THE CASTLE

VIII. WHAT NEXT?

XI. GENERALSHIP

X. AN UNFORESEEN FORESIGHT

CHAPTER I. 

MY UNCLE PETER. --CONTINUED. 

"It was resolved that on the same evening, Chrissy should tell my uncleher story. We went out for a walk together; and though she was not afraidto go, the least thing startled her. A voice behind her would make herturn pale and look hurriedly round. Then she would smile again, evenbefore the colour had had time to come back to her cheeks, and say--'Whata goose I am! But it is no wonder. ' I could see too that she looked downat her nice clothes now and then with satisfaction. She does not like meto say so, but she does not deny it either, for Chrissy can't tell a storyeven about her own feelings. My uncle had given us five pounds each tospend, and that was jolly. We bought each other such a lot of things, besides some for other people. And then we came home and had dinner_tete-à-tete_ in my uncle's dining-room; after which we went up to myuncle's room, and sat over the fire in the twilight till his afternoon-napwas over, and he was ready for his tea. This was ready for him by the timehe awoke. Chrissy got up on the bed beside him; I got up at the foot ofthe bed, facing her, and we had the tea-tray and plenty of _etceteras_between us. 

"'Oh! I _am_ happy!' said Chrissy, and began to cry. 

"'So am I, my darling!' rejoined Uncle Peter, and followed her example. 

"'So am I, ' said I, 'but I don't mean to cry about it. ' And then I did. 

"We all had one cup of tea, and some bread and butter in silence afterthis. But when Chrissy had poured out the second cup for Uncle Peter, shebegan of her own accord to tell us her story. 

"'It was very foggy when we came out of school that afternoon, as you mayremember, dear uncle. '

"'Indeed I do, ' answered Uncle Peter with a sigh. 

"'I was coming along the way home with Bessie--you know Bessie, uncle--andwe stopped to look in at a bookseller's window where the gas was lighted. It was full of Christmas things already. One of them I thought verypretty, and I was standing staring at it, when all at once I saw that abig drabby woman had poked herself in between Bessie and me. She wasstaring in at the window too. She was so nasty that I moved away a littlefrom her, but I wanted to have one more look at the picture. The womancame close to me. I moved again. Again she pushed up to me. I looked inher face, for I was rather cross by this time. A horrid feeling, I cannottell you what it was like, came over me as soon as I saw her. I know howit was now, but I did not know then why I was frightened. I think she sawI was frightened; for she instantly walked against me, and shoved andhustled me round the corner--it was a corner-shop--and before I knew, Iwas in another street. It was dark and narrow. Just at the moment a mancame from the opposite side and joined the woman. Then they caught hold ofmy hands, and before my fright would let me speak, I was deep into thenarrow lane, for they ran with me as fast as they could. Then I began toscream, but they said such horrid words that I was forced to hold mytongue; and in a minute more they had me inside a dreadful house, wherethe plaster was dropping away from the walls, and the skeleton-ribs of thehouse were looking through. I was nearly dead with terror and disgust. Idon't think it was a bit less dreadful to me from having dim recollectionsof having known such places well enough at one time of my life. I thinkthat only made me the more frightened, because so the place seemed to havea claim upon me. What if I ought to be there after all, and these dreadfulcreatures were my father and mother!

"'I thought they were going to beat me at once, when the woman, whom Isuspected to be my aunt, began to take off my frock. I was dreadfullyfrightened, but I could not cry. However it was only my clothes that theywanted. But I cannot tell you how frightful it was. They took almosteverything I had on, and it was only when I began to scream in despair--sit still, Charlie, it's all over now--that they stopped, with a nod toeach other, as much as to say--'we can get the rest afterwards. ' Then theyput a filthy frock on me; brought me some dry bread to eat; locked thedoor, and left me. It was nearly dark now. There was no fire. And all mywarm clothes were gone. --Do sit still, Charlie. --I was dreadfully cold. There was a wretched-looking bed in one corner, but I think I would havedied of cold rather than get into it. And the air in the place wasfrightful. How long I sat there in the dark, I don't know. '

"'What did you do all the time?' said I. 

"'There was only one thing to be done, Charlie. I think that is a foolishquestion to ask. '

"'Well, what _did_ you do, Chrissy?'

"'Said my prayers, Charlie. '

"'And then?'

"'Said them again. '

"'And nothing else?'

"'Yes; I tried to get out of the window, but that was of no use; for Icould not open it. And it was one story high at least. '

"'And what did you do next?'

"'Said over all my hymns. '

"'And then--what _did_ you do next?'

"'Why do you ask me so many times?'

"'Because I want to know. '

"'Well, I will tell you. --I left my prayers alone; and I began at thebeginning, and I told God the whole story, as if He had known nothingabout it, from the very beginning when Uncle Peter found me on thecrossing, down to the minute when I was talking there to Him in the dark. '

"'Ah! my dear, ' said my uncle, with faltering voice, 'you felt betterafter that, I daresay. And here was I in despair about you, and thought Hedid not care for any of us. I was very naughty, indeed. '

"'And what next?' I said. 

"'By and by I heard a noise of quarrelling in the street, which camenearer and nearer. The door was burst open by some one falling against it. Blundering steps came up the stairs. The two who had robbed me, evidentlytipsy, were trying to unlock the door. At length they succeeded, andtumbled into the room. '

"'Where is the unnatural wretch, ' said the woman, 'who ran away and lefther own mother in poverty and sickness?'--

"'Oh! uncle, can it be that she is my mother?' said Chrissy, interruptingherself. 

"'I don't think she is, ' answered Uncle Peter. 'She only wanted to vexyou, my lamb. But it doesn't matter whether she is or not. '

"'Doesn't it, uncle?--I am ashamed of her. '

"'But you are God's child. And He can't be ashamed of you. For He gave youthe mother you had, whoever she was, and never asked you which you wouldhave. So you need not mind. We ought always to like best to be just whatGod has made us. '

"'I am sure of that, uncle. --Well, she began groping about to find me, forit was very dark. I sat quite still, except for trembling all over, till Ifelt her hands on me, when I jumped up, and she fell on the floor. Shebegan swearing dreadfully, but did not try to get up. I crept away toanother corner. I heard the man snoring, and the woman breathing loud. Then I felt my way to the door, but, to my horror, found the man lyingacross it on the floor, so that I could not open it. Then I believe Icried for the first time. I was nearly frozen to death, and there was allthe long night to bear yet. How I got through it, I cannot tell. It did goaway. Perhaps God destroyed some of it for me. But when the light began tocome through the window, and show me all the filth of the place, the manand the woman lying on the floor, the woman with her head cut and coveredwith blood, I began to feel that the darkness had been my friend. I feltthis yet more when I saw the state of my own dress, which I had forgottenin the dark. I felt as if I had done some shameful thing, and wanted tofollow the darkness, and hide in the skirts of it. It was an old gown ofsome woollen stuff, but it was impossible to tell what, it was so dirtyand worn. I was ashamed that even those drunken creatures should wake andsee me in it. But the light would come, and it came and came, until atlast it waked them up, and the first words were so dreadful! Theyquarrelled and swore at each other and at me, until I almost thought therecouldn't be a God who would let that go on so, and never stop it. But Isuppose He wants them to stop, and doesn't care to stop it Himself, for Hecould easily do that of course, if He liked. '

"'Just right, my darling!' said Uncle Peter with emotion. 

"Chrissy saw that my uncle was too much excited by her story although hetried not to show it, and with a wisdom which I have since learned toappreciate, cut it short. 

"'They did not treat me cruelly, though, the worst was, that they gave menext to nothing to eat. Perhaps they wanted to make me thin and wretchedlooking, and I believe they succeeded. --Charlie, you'll turn over thecream, if you don't sit still. --Three days passed this way. I have thoughtall over it, and I think they were a little puzzled how to get rid of me. They had no doubt watched me for a long time, and now they had got myclothes, they were afraid. --At last one night they took me out. My aunt, if aunt she is, was respectably dressed--that is, comparatively, and theman had a great-coat on, which covered his dirty clothes. They helped meinto a cart which stood at the door, and drove off. I resolved to watchthe way we went. But we took so many turnings through narrow streetsbefore we came out in a main road, that I soon found it was all one massof confusion in my head; and it was too dark to read any of the names ofthe streets, for the man kept as much in the middle of the road aspossible. We drove some miles, I should think, before we stopped at thegate of a small house with a big porch, which stood alone. My aunt got outand went up to the house, and was admitted. After a few minutes, shereturned, and making me get out, she led me up to the house, where anelderly lady stood, holding the door half open. When we reached it, myaunt gave me a sort of shove in, saying to the lady, 'There she is. ' Thenshe said to me: 'Come now be a good girl and don't tell lies, ' and turninghastily, ran down the steps, and got into the cart at the gate, whichdrove off at once the way we had come. The lady looked at me from head tofoot sternly but kindly too, I thought, and so glad was I to find myselfclear of those dreadful creatures, that I burst out crying. She instantlybegan to read me a lecture on the privilege of being placed with Christianpeople, who would instruct me how my soul might be saved, and teach me tolead an honest and virtuous life. I tried to say that I had led an honestlife. But as often as I opened my mouth to tell anything about myselfor my uncle, or, indeed, to say anything at all, I was stopped by hersaying--'Now don't tell lies. Whatever you do, don't tell lies. ' This shutme up quite. I could not speak when I knew she would not believe me. But Idid not cry, I only felt my face get very hot, and somehow my back-bonegrew longer, though I felt my eyes fixed on the ground. 

"'But, ' she went on, 'you must change you dress. I will show you the wayto your room, and you will find a print gown there, which I hope you willkeep clean. And above all things don't tell lies. '

"Here Chrissy burst out laughing, as if it was such fun to be accused oflying; but presently her eyes filled, and she made haste to go on. 

"'You may be sure I made haste to put on the nice clean frock, and, to mydelight, found other clean things for me as well. I declare I felt like aprincess for a whole day after, notwithstanding the occupation. For I soonfound that I had been made over to Mrs. Sprinx, as a servant of all work. I think she must have paid these people for the chance of reclaiming onewhom they had represented as at least a great liar. Whether my wages wereto be paid to them, or even what they were to be, I never heard. I made upmy mind at once that the best thing would be to do the work withoutgrumbling, and do it as well as I could, for that would be doing no harmto anyone, but the contrary, while it would give me the better chance ofmaking my escape. But though I was determined to get away the firstopportunity, and was miserable when I thought how anxious you would all beabout me, yet I confess it was such a relief to be clean and inrespectable company, that I caught myself singing once or twice the veryfirst day. But the old lady soon stopped that. She was about in thekitchen the greater part of the day till almost dinner-time, and taught mehow to cook and save my soul both at once. '

"'Indeed, ' interrupted Uncle Peter, 'I have read receipts for thesalvation of the soul that sounded very much as if they came out of acookery-book. ' And the wrinkles of his laugh went up into his night-cap. Neither Chrissy nor I understood this at the time, but I have oftenthought of it since. 

"Chrissy went on:

"'I had finished washing up my dinner-things, and sat down for a fewminutes, for I was tired. I was staring into the fire, and thinking andthinking how I should get away, and what I should do when I got out of thehouse, and feeling as if the man and the woman were always prowling aboutit, and watching me through the window, when suddenly I saw a little boyin a corner of the kitchen, staring at me with great brown eyes. He was alittle boy, perhaps about six years old, with a pale face, and veryearnest look. I did not speak to him, but waited to see what he would do. A few minutes passed, and I forgot him. But as I was wiping my eyes, whichwould get wet sometimes, notwithstanding my good-fortune, he came up tome, and said in a timid whisper, "'Are you a princess?'

"'What makes you think that?' I said. 

"'You have got such white hands, ' he answered. 

"'No, I am not a princess, ' I said. 

"'Aren't you Cinderella?'

"'No, my darling, ' I replied; 'but something like her; for they havestolen me away from home and brought me here. I wish I could get away. '

"'And here I confess I burst into a down right fit of crying. 

"'Don't cry, ' said the little fellow, stroking my cheek. 'I will let youout some time. Shall you be able to find your way home all by yourself?'

"'Yes I think so, ' I answered; but at the same time, I felt very doubtfulabout it, because I always fancied those people watching, me. But beforeeither of us spoke again, in came Mrs. Sprinx. 

"'You naughty boy! What business have you to make the servant neglect herwork?'

"'For I was still sitting by the fire, and my arm was round the dearlittle fellow, and his head was leaning on my shoulder. 

"'She's not a servant, auntie!' cried he, indignantly. 'She's a realprincess, though of course she won't own to it. '

"'What lies you have been telling the boy! You ought to be ashamed ofyourself. Come along directly. Get the tea at once, Jane. '

"'My little friend went with his aunt, and I rose and got the tea. But Ifelt much lighter-hearted since I had the sympathy of the little boy tocomfort me. Only I was afraid they would make him hate me. But, although Isaw very little of him the rest of the time, I knew they had not succeededin doing so; for as often as he could, he would come sliding up to me, saying 'How do you do, princess?'and then run away, afraid of being seenand scolded. 

"'I was getting very desperate about making my escape, for there was ahigh wall about the place, and the gate was always locked at night. WhenChristmas-Eve came, I was nearly crazy with thinking that to-morrow wasuncle's birthday; and that I should not be with him. But that very night, after I had gone to my room, the door opened, and in came little Eddie inhis nightgown, his eyes looking very bright and black over it. 

"'There, princess!' said he, 'there is the key of the gate. Run. '

"'I took him in my arms and kissed him, unable to speak. He struggled toget free, and ran to the door. There he turned and said:

"'You will come back and see me some day--will you not?'

"'That I will, ' I answered. 

"'That you shall, ' said Uncle Peter. 

"'I hid the key, and went to bed, where I lay trembling. As soon as I wassure they must be asleep, I rose and dressed. I had no bonnet or shawl butthose I had come in; and though they disgusted me, I thought it better toput them on. But I dared not unlock the street-door for fear of making anoise. So I crept out of the kitchen-window, and then I got out at thegate all safe. No one was in sight. So I locked it again, and threw thekey over. But what a time of fear and wandering about I had in thedarkness, before I dared to ask any one the way. It was a bright, clearnight; and I walked very quietly till I came upon a great wide common. Thesky, and the stars, and the wideness frightened me, and made me gasp atfirst. I felt as if I should fall away from everything into nothing. Andit was so lonely! But then I thought of God, and in a moment I knew thatwhat I had thought loneliness was really the presence of God. And then Igrew brave again, and walked on. When the morning dawned, I met abricklayer going to his work; and found that I had been wandering awayfrom London all the time; but I did not mind that. Now I turned my facetowards it, though not the way I had come. But I soon got dreadfully tiredand faint, and once I think I fainted quite. I went up to a house, andasked for a piece of bread, and they gave it to me, and I felt much betterafter eating it. But I had to rest so often, and got so tired, and my feetgot so sore, that--you know how late it was before I got home to mydarling uncle. '

"'And me too!' I expostulated. 

"'And you, too, Charlie, ' she answered; and we all cried over again. 

"'This shan't happen any more!' said my uncle. 

"After tea was over, he asked for writing things, and wrote a note, whichhe sent off. 

"The next morning, about eleven, as I was looking out of the window, I sawa carriage drive up and stop at our door. 

"'What a pretty little brougham!' I cried. 'And such a jolly horse! Lookhere, Chrissy!'

"Presently Uncle Peter's bell rang, and Miss Chrissy was sent for. Shecame down again radiant with pleasure. 

"'What do you think, Charlie! That carriage is mine--all my own. And I amto go to school in it always. Do come and have a ride in it. '

"You may be sure I was delighted to do so. 

"'Where shall we go?' I said. 

"'Let us ask uncle if we may go and see the little darling who set mefree. '

"His consent was soon obtained, and away we went. It was a long drive, butwe enjoyed it beyond everything. When we reached the house, we were showninto the drawing-room. 

"There was Mrs. Sprinx and little Eddie. The lady stared; but the childknew Cinderella at once, and flew into her arms. 

"'I knew you were a princess!' he cried. 'There, auntie!'

"But Mrs. Sprinx had put on an injured look, and her hands shook verymuch. 

"'Really, Miss Belper, if that is your name, you have behaved in a mostunaccountable way. Why did you not tell me, instead of stealing the key ofthe gate, and breaking the kitchen window? A most improper way for a younglady to behave--to run out of the house at midnight!'

"'You forget, madam, ' replied Chrissy, with more dignity than I had everseen her assume, 'that as soon as ever I attempted to open my mouth, youtold me not to tell lies. You believed the wicked people who brought mehere rather than myself. However, as you will not be friendly, I think wehad better go. Come, Charlie?'

"'Don't go, princess, ' pleaded little Eddie. 

"'But I must, for your auntie does not like me, ' said Chrissy. 

"'I am sure I always meant to do my duty by you. And I will do so still. --Beware, my dear young woman, of the deceitfulness of riches. Your carriagewon't save your soul!'

"Chrissy was on the point of saying something rude, as she confessed whenwe got out; but she did not. She made her bow, turned and walked away. Ifollowed, and poor Eddie would have done so too, but was laid hold of byhis aunt. I confess this was not quite proper behaviour on Chrissy's part;but I never discovered that till she made me see it. She was very sorryafterwards, and my uncle feared the brougham had begun to hurt heralready, as she told me. For she had narrated the whole story to him, andhis look first let her see that she had been wrong. My uncle went with herafterwards to see Mrs. Sprinx, and thank her for having done her best; andto take Eddie such presents as my uncle only knew how to buy for children. When he went to school, I know he sent him a gold watch. From that timetill now that she is my wife, Chrissy has had no more such adventures; andif Uncle Peter did not die on Christmas-day, it did not matter much, forChristmas-day makes all the days of the year as sacred as itself. "

CHAPTER II. 

THE GIANT'S HEART. 

When Harry had finished reading, the colonel gallantly declared that thestory was the best they had had. Mrs. Armstrong received this as a joke, and begged him not to be so unsparing. 

"Ah! Mrs. Armstrong, " returned he laughing, "you are not old enough yet, to know the truth from a joke. Don't you agree with me about the story, Mrs. Cathcart?"

"I think it is very pretty and romantic. Such men as Uncle Peter are notvery common in the world. The story is not too true to Nature. "

This she said in a tone intended to indicate superior acquaintance withthe world and its nature. I fear Mrs. Cathcart and some others whom Icould name, mean by _Nature_ something very bad indeed, which yet anartist is bound to be loyal to. The colonel however seemed to be of adifferent opinion. 

"If there never was such a man as Uncle Peter, " said he, "there ought tohave been; and it is all the more reason for putting him into a story thathe is not to be found in the world. "

"Bravo!" cried I. "You have answered a great question in a few words. "

"I don't know, " rejoined our host. "Have I? It seems to me as plain as thecatechism. "

I thought he might have found a more apt simile, but I held my peace. 

Next morning, I walked out in the snow. Since the storm of that terriblenight, it had fallen again quietly and plentifully; and now in thesunlight, the world--houses and trees, ponds and rivers--was like acreation, more than blocked out, but far from finished--in marble. 

"And this, " I said to myself, as I regarded the wondrous loveliness withwhich the snow had at once clothed and disfigured the bare branches of thetrees, "this is what has come of the chaos of falling flakes! To thisrepose of beauty has that storm settled and sunk! Will it not be so withour mental storms as well?"

But here the figure displeased me; for those were not the true rightshapes of the things; and the truth does not stick to things, but showsitself out of them. 

"This lovely show, " I said, "is the result of a busy fancy. This whiteworld is the creation of a poet such as Shelley, in whom the fancy was toomuch for the intellect. Fancy settles upon anything; half destroys itsform, half beautifies it with something that is not its own. But the truecreative imagination, the form-seer, and the form-bestower, falls like therain in the spring night, vanishing amid the roots of the trees; notsettling upon them in clouds of wintry white, but breaking forth from themin clouds of summer green. "

And then my thoughts very naturally went from Nature to my niece; and Iasked myself whether within the last few days I had not seen upon hercountenance the expression of a mental spring-time. For the mind has itsseasons four, with many changes, as well as the world, only that thecycles are generally longer: they can hardly be more mingled than as herein our climate. 

Let me confess, now that the subject of the confession no longer exists, that there had been something about Adela that, pet-child of mine as shewas, had troubled me. In all her behaviour, so far as I had had anyopportunity of judging, she had been as good as my desires at least. But there was a want in her face, a certain flatness of expression whichI did not like. I love the common with all my heart, but I hate thecommon-place; and, foolish old bachelor that I am, the common-place in awoman troubles me, annoys me, makes me miserable. Well, it was somethingof the common-place in Adela's expression that had troubled me. Her eyeswere clear, with lovely long dark lashes, but somehow the light in themhad been always the same; and occasionally when I talked to her of thethings I most wished her to care about, there was such an immobilecondition of the features, associated with such a ready assent in words, that I felt her notion of what I meant must be something very differentindeed from what I did mean. Her face looked as if it were made ofsomething too thick for the inward light to shine through--wax, and notliving muscle and skin. The fact was, the light within had not beenkindled, else that face of hers would have been ready enough to let itshine out. Hitherto she had not seemed to me to belong at all to thatcompany that praises God with sweet looks, as Thomas Hood describes Ruthas doing. What was wanting I had found it difficult to define. Her soulwas asleep. She was dreaming a child's dreams, instead of seeing a woman'srealities--realities that awake the swift play of feature, as the wind ofGod arouses the expression of a still landscape. So there seemed after alla gulf between her and me. She did not see what I saw, feel what I felt, seek what I sought. Occasionally even, the delicate young girl, pure andbright as the snow that hung on the boughs around me, would shock thewizened old bachelor with her worldliness--a worldliness that lay only inthe use of current worldly phrases of selfish contentment, or selfishcare. Ah! how little do young beauties understand of the pitiful emotionswhich they sometimes rouse in the breasts of men whom they suppose to beabsorbed in admiration of them! But for faith that these girls are God'swork and only half made yet, one would turn from them with sadness, almostpainful dislike, and take refuge with some noble-faced grandmother, orwithered old maid, whose features tell of sorrow and patience. And thebeauty would think with herself that such a middle-aged gentleman did notadmire pretty girls, and was severe and unkind and puritanical; whereas itwas the lack of beauty that made him turn away; the disappointment of aface--dull, that ought to be radiant; or the presence of only that sort ofbeauty, which in middle age, except the deeper nature should meantime comeinto play, would be worse than common-place--would be mingled with thetrail of more or less guilty sensuality. Many a woman at forty isrepulsive, whom common men found at twenty irresistibly attractive; andmany a woman at seventy is lovely to the eyes of the man who would havebeen compelled to allow that she was decidedly plain at seventeen. 

"Maidens' bairns are aye weel guided, " says the Scotch proverb; and thesame may be said of bachelors' wives. So I will cease the strain, andreturn to Adela, the change in whom first roused it. 

Of late, I had seen a glimmer of something in her countenance which I hadnever seen before--a something which, the first time I perceived it, mademe say to her, in my own hearing only: "Ah, my dear, we shall understandeach other by and by!" And now and then the light in her eye would bedimmed as by the fore-shadowing of a tear, when there was no immediate andvisible cause to account for it; and--which was very strange--I could nothelp fancying she began to be a little shy of her old uncle. --Could it bethat she was afraid of his insight reaching to her heart, and readingthere more than she was yet willing to confess to herself?--But whateverthe cause of the change might be, there was certainly a responsiveness inher, a readiness to meet every utterance, and take it home, by which thevanity of the old bachelor would have been flattered to the full, had nothis heart come first, and forestalled the delight. 

So absorbed was I in considering these things, that the time passed likeone of my thoughts; and before I knew I found myself on the verge of theperilous moor over which Harry had ridden in the teeth and heart of thestorm. How smooth yet cruel it looked in its thick covering of snow! Therewas heather beneath, within which lay millions of purple bells, ready torush out at the call of summer, and ring peals of merry gladness, makingthe desolate place not only blossom but rejoice as the rose. And therewere cold wells of brown water beneath that snow, of depth unknown, whichnourished nothing but the green grass that hid the cold glare of theirpresence from the eyes of the else warefully affrighted traveller. And Ithought of Adela when I thought of the heather; and of some other womanwhom I had known, when I thought of the wells. 

When I came home, I told Adela where I had been, and what a desolate placeit was. And the flush that rose on her pale cheek was just like the lightof the sunset which I had left shining over the whiteness of that snowyregion. And I said to myself: "It _is_ so. And I trust it may be well. "

As I walked home, I had bethought myself of a story which I had broughtdown with me in the hope of a chance of reading it, but which Adela'sillness had put out of my mind; for it was only a child's story; andalthough I hoped older people might find something in it, it would havebeen absurd to read it without the presence of little children. So I saidto Adela:

"Don't you know any little children in Purleybridge, Adela?"

"Oh! yes; plenty. "

"Couldn't you ask some of them one night, and I would tell them a story. Ithink at this season they should have a share in what is going, and I havegot one I think they would like. "

"I shall be delighted. I will speak to papa about it at once. But nexttime--. "

"Yes, I know. Next time Harry Armstrong was going to read; but to tell youthe truth, Adela, I doubt if he will be ready. I know he is dreadfullybusy just now, and I believe he will be thankful to have a reprieve for aday or two, and his story, which I expect will be a good one, will be allthe better for it. "

"Then I will speak to papa about it the moment he comes in; and you willtell Mr. Henry. And mind, uncle, you take the change upon your ownshoulders. "

"Trust me, my dear, " I said, as I left the room. 

As I had anticipated, Harry was grateful. Everything was arranged. So thenext evening but one, we had a merry pretty company of boys and girls, none older, or at least looking older, than twelve. It did my heart goodto see how Adela made herself at home with them, and talked to them as ifshe were one of themselves. By the time tea was over, I had made friendswith them all, which was a stroke in its way nearly equal to Chaucer's, who made friends with all the nine and twenty Canterbury pilgrims beforethe sun was down. And the way I did was this. I began with the one nextme, asking her the question:

"Do you like fairy-stories?"

"Yes, I do, " answered she, heartily. 

"Did you ever hear of the princess with the blue foot?"

"No. Will you tell me, please?"

Then I turned to the one on my other side, and asked her:

"Did you ever hear of the giant that was all skin--not skin and bone, youknow, but all skin?"

"No-o" she answered, and her round blue eyes got rounder and bluer. 

The next was a boy. I asked him:

"Did you ever hear of Don Worm of Wakemup?"

"No. Do please tell us about it. "

And so I asked them, round the room. And by that time all eyes were fixedupon me. Then I said:

"You see I cannot tell you all these stories to-night. But would you alllike one of some sort?"

A chorus of _I should_ filled the room. 

"What shall it be about, then?"

"A wicked fairy. "

"No; that's stupid. I'm tired of wicked fairies, " said a scornful littlegirl. 

"A good giant, then, " said a priggish imp, with a face as round as thelate plum-pudding. 

"I am afraid I could not tell you a story about a _good_ giant; forunfortunately all the good giants I ever heard of were very stupid; sostupid that a story would not make itself about them; so stupid, indeed, that they were always made game of by creatures not half so big or half sogood; and I don't like such stories. Shall I tell you about the wickedgiant that grew little children in his garden instead of radishes, andthen carried them about in his waistcoat pocket, and ate one as often ashe remembered he had got some?"

"Yes, yes; please do. "

"He used to catch little children and plant them in his garden, where youmight see them in rows, with their heads only above ground, rolling theireyes about, and growing awfully fast. He liked greedy boys best--boys thatate plum-pudding till they felt as if their belts were too tight. "

Here the fat-faced boy stuck both his hands inside his belt. 

"Because he was so fond of radishes, " I went on, "he lived just on theborders of Giantland, where it touched on the country of common people. Now, everything in Giantland was so big, that the common people saw only amass of awful mountains and clouds; and no living man had ever come fromit, as far as anybody knew, to tell what he had seen in it. 

"Somewhere near these borders, on the other side, by the edge of a greatforest, lived a labourer with his wife and a great many children. One dayTricksey-Wee, as they called her, teased her brother Buffy-Bob, till hecould not bear it any longer, and gave her a box on the ear. Tricksey-Weecried; and Buffy-Bob was so sorry and ashamed of himself, that he criedtoo, and ran off into the wood. He was so long gone, that Tricksey-Weebegan to be frightened, for she was very fond of her brother; and she wasso sorry that she had first teased him, and then cried, that at last sheran into the wood to look for him, though there was more chance of losingherself than of finding him. And, indeed, so it seemed likely to turn out;for, running on without looking, she at length found herself in a valleyshe knew nothing about. And no wonder; for what she thought was a valleywith round, rocky sides, was no other than the space between two of theroots of a great tree that grew on the borders of Giantland. She climbedover the side of it, and right up to what she took for a black, round-topped mountain, far away; but she soon discovered that it was close toher, and was a hollow place so great that she could not tell what it washollowed out of. Staring at it, she found that it was a doorway; and, going nearer and staring harder, she saw the door, far in, with a knockerof iron upon it, a great many yards above her head, and as large as theanchor of a big ship. Now, nobody had ever been unkind to Tricksey-Wee, and therefore she was not afraid of anybody. For Buffy-Bob's box on theear she did not think worth considering. So, spying a little hole at thebottom of the door, which had been nibbled by some giant mouse, she creptthrough it, and found herself in an enormous hall, as big as if the lateMr. Martin, R. A. , had been the architect. She could not have seen theother end of it at all, except for the great fire that was burning there, diminished to a spark in the distance. Towards this fire she ran as fastas she could, and was not far from it when something fell before her witha great clatter, over which she tumbled, and went rolling on the floor. She was not much hurt, however, and got up in a moment. Then she saw thatshe had fallen over something not unlike a great iron bucket. When sheexamined it more closely, she discovered that it was a thimble; andlooking up to see who had dropped it, beheld a huge face, with spectaclesas big as the round windows in a church, bending over her, and lookingeverywhere for the thimble. Tricksey-Wee immediately laid hold of it inboth her arms, and lifted it about an inch nearer to the nose of thepeering giantess. This movement made the old lady see where it was, and, her finger popping into it, it vanished from the eyes of Tricksey-Wee, buried in the folds of a white stocking, like a cloud in the sky, whichMrs. Giant was busy darning. For it was Saturday night, and her husbandwould wear nothing but white stockings on Sunday. "

"But how could he be so particular about white stockings on Sunday, andeat little children?" asked one of the group. 

"Why, to be sure, " I answered, "he did eat little children, but only_very_ little ones; and if ever it crossed his mind that it was wrong todo so, he always said to himself that he wore whiter stockings on Sundaythan any other giant in all Giantland. 

"At that instant, Tricksey-Wee heard a sound like the wind in a tree fullof leaves, and could not think what it could be; till, looking up, shefound that it was the giantess whispering to her; and when she tried veryhard, she could hear what she said well enough. 

"'Run away, dear little girl, ' she said, 'as fast as you can; for myhusband will be home in a few minutes. '

"'But I've never been naughty to your husband, ' said Tricksey-Wee, lookingup in the giantess's face. 

"'That doesn't matter. You had better go. He is fond of little children, particularly little girls!'

"'Oh! Then he won't hurt me. '

"'I am not sure of that. He is so fond of them that he eats them up; and Iam afraid he couldn't help hurting you a little. He's a very good manthough. '

"'Oh! then--' began Tricksey-Wee, feeling rather frightened; but beforeshe could finish her sentence, she heard the sound of footsteps very farapart and very heavy. The next moment, who should come running towardsher, full speed, and as pale as death, but Buffy-Bob! She held out herarms, and he ran into them. But when she tried to kiss him, she onlykissed the back of his head; for his white face and round eyes were turnedto the door. 

"'Run, children; run and hide, ' said the giantess. 

"'Come, Buffy, ' said Tricksey; 'yonder's a great brake; we'll hide in it. '

"The brake was a big broom; and they had just got into the bristles of it, when they heard the door open with a sound of thunder; and in stalked thegiant. You would have thought you saw the whole earth through the doorwhen he opened it, so wide was it; and, when he closed it, it was likenightfall. 

"'Where is that little boy?' he cried, with a voice like the bellowing ofcannon. 'He looked a very nice boy, indeed. I am almost sure he creptthrough the mouse hole at the bottom of the door. Where is he, my dear?'

"'I don't know, ' answered the giantess. 

"'But you know it is wicked to tell lies; don't you, dear?' retorted thegiant. 

"'Now, you ridiculous old Thunderthump!' said his wife, with a smile asbroad as the sea in the sun; 'how can I mend your white stockings, andlook after little boys? You have got plenty to last you over Sunday, I amsure. Just look what good little boys they are!'

"Tricksey-Wee and Buffy-Bob peered through the bristles, and discovered arow of little boys, about a dozen, with very fat faces and goggle eyes, sitting before the fire, and looking stupidly into it. Thunderthumpintended the most of these for seed, and was feeding them well beforeplanting them. Now and then, however, he could not keep his teeth offthem, and would eat one by the bye, without salt. "

 * * * * *

"Now, you know that's all nonsense; for little children don't grow ingardens, I know. _You_ may believe in the radish beds: _I_ don't, " saidone pert little puss. 

"I never said I did, " replied I. "If the giant did, that's enough for mystory. I told you the good giants are very stupid; so you may think whatthe bad ones are. Indeed, the giant never really tried the plan. No doubthe did plant the children, but he always pulled them up and ate thembefore they had a chance of increasing. 

"He strode up to the wretched children. Now, what made them very wretchedindeed was, that they knew if they could only keep from eating, and growthin, the giant would dislike them, and turn them out to find their wayhome; but notwithstanding this, so greedy were they, that they ate as muchas ever they could hold. The giantess, who fed them, comforted herselfwith thinking that they were not real boys and girls, but only little pigspretending to be boys and girls. 

"'Now tell me the truth, ' cried the giant, bending his face down overthem. They shook with terror, and every one hoped it was somebody else thegiant liked best. 'Where is the little boy that ran into the hall justnow? Whoever tells me a lie shall be instantly boiled. '

"'He's in the broom, ' cried one dough-faced boy. 'He's in there, and alittle girl with him. '

"'The naughty children, ' cried the giant, 'to hide from _me_!' And he madea stride towards the broom. 

"'Catch hold of the bristles, Bobby. Get right into a tuft, and hold on, 'cried Tricksey-Wee, just in time. 

"The giant caught up the broom, and seeing nothing under it, set it downagain with a bang that threw them both on the floor. He then made twostrides to the boys, caught the dough-faced one by the neck, took the lidoff a great pot that was boiling on the fire, popped him in as if he hadbeen a trussed chicken, put the lid on again, and saying, 'There boys! Seewhat comes of lying!' asked no more questions; for, as he always kept hisword, he was afraid he might have to do the same to them all; and he didnot like boiled boys. He like to eat them crisp, as radishes, whetherforked or not, ought to be eaten. He then sat down, and asked his wife ifhis supper was ready. She looked into the pot, and, throwing the boy outwith the ladle, as if he had been a black-beetle that had tumbled in andhad had the worst of it, answered that she thought it was. Whereupon herose to help her; and, taking the pot from the fire, poured the wholecontents, bubbling and splashing into a dish like a vat. Then they saydown to supper. The children in the broom could not see what they had; butit seemed to agree with them; for the giant talked like thunder, and thegiantess answered like the sea, and they grew chattier and chattier. Atlength the giant said:

"'I don't feel quite comfortable about that heart of mine. ' And as hespoke, instead of laying his hand on his bosom, he waved it away towardsthe corner where the children were peeping from the broom-bristles, likefrightened little mice. 

"'Well, you know, my darling Thunderthump, ' answered his wife, 'I alwaysthought it ought to be nearer home. But you know best, of course. '

"'Ha! ha! You don't know where it is, wife. I moved it a month ago. '

"'What a man you are, Thunderthump! You trust any creature alive ratherthan your wife. '

"Here the giantess gave a sob which sounded exactly like a wave going flopinto the mouth of a cave up to the roof. 

"'Where have you got it now?' she resumed, checking her emotion. 

"'Well, Doodlem, I don't mind telling _you_, ' said the giant, soothingly. 'The great she-eagle has got it for a nest-egg. She sits on it night andday, and thinks she will bring the greatest eagle out of it that eversharpened his beak on the rocks of Mount Skycrack. I can warrant no oneelse will touch it while she has got it. But she is rather capricious, andI confess I am not easy about it; for the least scratch of one of herclaws would do for me at once. And she _has_ claws. '"

 * * * * *

"What funny things you do make up!" said a boy. "How could the giant'sheart be in an eagle's nest, and the giant himself alive and well withoutit?"

"Whatever you may think of it, Master Fred, I assure you I did not make itup. If it ever was made up, no one can tell who did it; for it was writtenin the chronicles of Giantland long before one of us was born. It wasquite common, " said I, in an injured tone, "for a giant to put his heartout to nurse, because he did not like the trouble and responsibility ofdoing it himself. It was, I confess, a dangerous sort of thing to do. --Butdo you want any more of my story or not?"

"Oh! yes, please, " cried Frederick, very heartily. 

"Then don't you find any more fault with it, or I will stop. "

Master Fred was straightway silent, and I went on. 

 * * * * *

"All this time Buffy-Bob and Tricksey-Wee were listening with long ears. _They_ did not dispute about the giant's heart, and impossibility, and allthat; for they were better educated than Master Fred, and knew all aboutit. 'Oh!' thought Tricksey-Wee, 'if I could but find the giant's cruelheart, wouldn't I give it a squeeze!'

"The giant and giantess went on talking for a long time. The giantess keptadvising the giant to hide his heart somewhere in the house; but he seemedafraid of the advantage it would give her over him. 

"'You could hide it at the bottom of the flour-barrel, ' said she. 

"'That would make me feel chokey, ' answered he. 

"'Well, in the coal-cellar, or in the dust-hole. That's the place! No onewould think of looking for your heart in the dust-hole. '

"'Worse and worse!' cried the giant. 

"'Well, the water-butt?' said she. 

"'No, no; it would grow spongy there, ' said he. 

"'Well, what will you do with it?'

"'I will leave it a month longer where it is, and then I will give it tothe Queen of the Kangaroos, and she will carry it in her pouch for me. Itis best to change, you know, and then my enemies can't find it. But, dearDoodlem, it's a fretting care to have a heart of one's own to look after. The responsibility is too much for me. If it were not for a bite of aradish now and then, I never could bear it. '

"Here the giant looked lovingly towards the row of little boys by thefire, all of whom were nodding, or asleep on the floor. 

"'Why don't you trust it to me, dear Thunderthump?' said his wife. 'Iwould take the best possible care of it. '

"'I don't doubt it, my love. But the responsibility would be too much foryou. You would no longer be my darling, light-hearted, airy, laughingDoodlem. It would transform you into a heavy, oppressed woman, weary oflife--as I am. '

"The giant closed his eyes and pretended to go to sleep. His wife got hisstockings, and went on with her darning. Soon, the giant's pretence becamereality, and the giantess began to nod over her work. 

"'Now, Buffy, ' whispered Tricksey-Wee, 'now's our time. I think it'smoonlight, and we had better be off. There's a door with a hole for thecat just behind us. '

"'All right!' said Bob; 'I'm ready. '

"So they got out of the broom-brake, and crept to the door. But, to theirgreat disappointment, when they got through it, they found themselves in asort of shed. It was full of tubs and things, and, though it was built ofwood only, they could not find a crack. 

"'Let us try this hole, ' said Tricksey; for the giant and giantess weresleeping behind them, and they dared not go back. 

"'All right, ' said Bob. He seldom said anything else than _All right_. 

"Now this hole was in a mound that came in through the wall of the shedand went along the floor for some distance. They crawled into it, andfound it very dark. But groping their way along, they soon came to a smallcrack, through which they saw grass, pale in the moonshine. As they crepton, they found the hole began to get wider and lead upwards. 

"'What is that noise of rushing?' said Buffy-Bob. 

"'I can't tell, ' replied Tricksey; 'for, you see, I don't know what we arein. '

"The fact was, they were creeping along a channel in the heart of a gianttree; and the noise they heard was the noise of the sap rushing along inits wooden pipes. When they laid their ears to the wall, they heard itgurgling along with a pleasant noise. 

"'It sounds kind and good, ' said Tricksey. 'It is water running. Now itmust be running from somewhere to somewhere. I think we had better go on, and we shall come somewhere. '

"It was now rather difficult to go on, for they had to climb as if theywere climbing a hill; and now the passage was wide. Nearly worn out, theysaw light overhead at last, and creeping through a crack into the openair, found themselves on the fork of a huge tree. A great, broad, unevenspace lay around them, out of which spread boughs in every direction, thesmallest of them as big as the biggest tree in the country of commonpeople. Overhead were leaves enough to supply all the trees they had everseen. Not much moonlight could come through, but the leaves would glimmerwhite in the wind at times. The tree was full of giant birds. Every nowand then, one would sweep through, with a great noise. But, except anoccasional chirp, sounding like a shrill pipe in a great organ, they madeno noise. All at once an owl began to hoot. He thought he was singing. Assoon as he began, other birds replied, making rare game of him. To theirastonishment, the children found they could understand every word theysang. And what they said was something like this:

 "'I will sing a song. I'm the owl. ' 'Sing a song, you sing-song Ugly fowl! What will you sing about, Now the light is out?'

 "'Sing about the night; I'm the owl. ' 'You could not see for the light, Stupid fowl. ' 'Oh! the moon! and the dew! And the shadows!--tu-whoo!'

"The owl spread out his silent, soft, sly wings, and lighting betweenTricksey-Wee and Buffy-Bob, nearly smothered them, closing up one undereach wing. It was like being buried in a down bed. But the owl did notlike anything between his sides and his wings, so he opened his wingsagain, and the children made haste to get out. Tricksey-Wee immediatelywent in front of the bird, and looking up into his huge face, which was asround as the eyes of the giantess's spectacles, and much bigger, dropped apretty courtesy, and said:

"'Please, Mr. Owl, I want to whisper to you. '

"'Very well, small child, ' answered the owl, looking important, andstooping his ear towards her. 'What is it?'

"'Please tell me where the eagle lives that sits on the giant's heart. '

"'Oh, you naughty child! That's a secret. For shame!'

"And with a great hiss that terrified them, the owl flew into the tree. All birds are fond of secrets; but not many of them can keep them so wellas the owl. 

"So the children went on because they did not know what else to do. Theyfound the way very rough and difficult, the tree was so full of humps andhollows. Now and then they plashed into a pool of rain; now and then theycame upon twigs growing out of the trunk where they had no business, andthey were as large as full-grown poplars. Sometimes they came upon greatcushions of soft moss, and on one of them they lay down and rested. Butthey had not lain long before they spied a large nightingale sitting on abranch, with its bright eyes looking up at the moon. In a moment more hebegan to sing, and the birds about him began to reply, but in a verydifferent tone from that in which they had replied to the owl. Oh, thebirds did call the nightingale such pretty names! The nightingale sang, and the birds replied like this:--

 "I will sing a song. I'm the nightingale. ' 'Sing a song, long, long, Little Neverfail! What will you sing about, Light in or light out?'

 'Sing about the light Gone away; Down, away, and out of sight-- Poor lost day! Mourning for the day dead, O'er his dim bed. '

"The nightingale sang so sweetly, that the children would have fallenasleep but for fear of losing any of the song. When the nightingalestopped they got up and wandered on. They did not know where they weregoing, but they thought it best to keep going on, because then they mightcome upon something or other. They were very sorry they forgot to ask thenightingale about the eagle's nest, but his music had put everything elseout of their heads. They resolved, however, not to forget the next timethey had a chance. They went on and on, till they were both tired, andTricksey-Wee said at last, trying to laugh, "'I declare my legs feel just like a Dutch doll's. '

"'Then here's the place to go to bed in, ' said Buffy-Bob. 

"They stood at the edge of a last year's nest, and looked down withdelight into the round, mossy cave. Then they crept gently in, and, lyingdown in each other's arms, found it so deep, and warm, and comfortable, and soft, that they were soon fast asleep. 

"Now close beside them, in a hollow, was another nest, in which lay a larkand his wife; and the children were awakened very early in the morning, bya dispute between Mr. And Mrs. Lark. 

"'Let me up, ' said the lark. 

"'It is not time, ' said the lark's wife. 

"'It is, ' said the lark, rather rudely. 'The darkness is quite thin. I canalmost see my own beak. '

"'Nonsense!' said the lark's wife. 'You know you came home yesterdaymorning quite worn out--you had to fly so very high before you saw him. Iam sure he would not mind if you took it a little easier. Do be quiet andgo to sleep again. '

"'That's not it at all, ' said the lark. 'He doesn't want me. I want him. Let me up, I say. '

"He began to sing; and Tricksey-Wee and Buffy-Bob, having now learned theway, answered him:--

 "'I will sing a song, I'm the Lark. ' 'Sing, sing, Throat-strong, Little Kill-the-dark. What will you sing about, Now the night is out?'

 "'I can only call; I can't think. Let me up--that's all. Let me drink! Thirsting all the long night For a drink of light. '

"By this time the lark was standing on the edge of his nest and looking atthe children. 

"'Poor little things! You can't fly, ' said the lark. 

"'No; but we can look up, ' said Tricksey. 

"'Ah! you don't know what it is to see the very first of the sun. '

"'But we know what it is to wait till he comes. He's no worse for yourseeing him first, is he?'

"'Oh! no, certainly not, ' answered the lark, with condescension; and then, bursting into his _jubilate_, he sprung aloft, clapping his wings like aclock running down. 

"'Tell us where--' began Buffy-Bob. 

"But the lark was out of sight. His song was all that was left of him. That was everywhere, and he was nowhere. 

"'Selfish bird!' said Buffy. 'It's all very well for larks to go huntingthe sun, but they have no business to despise their neighbours, for allthat. '

"'Can I be of any use to you?' said a sweet bird-voice out of the nest. This was the lark's wife, who staid at home with the young larks while herhusband went to church. 

"'Oh! thank you. If you please, ' answered Tricksey-Wee. 

"And up popped a pretty brown head; and then up came a brown featherybody; and last of all came the slender legs on to the edge of the nest. There she turned, and, looking down into the nest, from which came a wholelitany of chirpings for breakfast, said, 'Lie still, little ones. ' Thenshe turned to the children. 'My husband is King of the Larks, ' she said. 

"Buffy-Bob took off his cap, and Tricksey-Wee courtesied very low. 

"'Oh, it's not me, ' said the bird, looking very shy. 'I am only his wife. It's my husband. 'And she looked up after him into the sky, whence his songwas still falling like a shower of musical hailstones. Perhaps she couldsee him. 

"'He's a splendid bird, ' said Buffy-Bob; 'only you know he _will_ get up alittle too early. '

"'Oh, no! he doesn't. It's only his way, you know. But tell me what I cando for you. '

"'Tell us, please, Lady Lark, where the she-eagle lives that sits on GiantThunderthump's heart. '

"'Oh! that is a secret. '

"'Did you promise not to tell?'

"'No; but larks ought to be discreet. They see more than other birds. '

"'But you don't fly up high like your husband, do you?'

"'Not often. But it's no matter. I come to know things for all that. '

"'Do tell me, and I will sing you a song, ' said Tricksey-Wee. 

"'Can you sing too?'

"'Yes. And I will sing you a song I learned the other day about a lark andhis wife. '

"'Please do, ' said the lark's wife. 'Be quiet, children, and listen. '

"Tricksey-Wee was very glad she happened to know a song which would pleasethe lark's wife, at least, whatever the lark himself might have thought ofit, if he had heard it. So she sang:

 "'Good morrow, my lord!' in the sky alone, Sang the lark, as the sun ascended his throne. 'Shine on me, my lord; I only am come, Of all your servants, to welcome you home. I have flown for an hour, right up, I swear, To catch the first shine of your golden hair!'

 'Must I thank you, then, ' said the king, 'Sir Lark, For flying so high, and hating the dark? You ask a full cup for half a thirst: Half is love of me, and half love to be first. There's many a bird that makes no haste, But waits till I come. That's as much to my taste. '

 And the king hid his head in a turban of cloud; And the lark stopped singing, quite vexed and cowed. But he flew up higher, and thought, 'Anon, The wrath of the king will be over and gone; And his crown, shining out of the cloudy fold, Will change my brown feathers to a glory of gold. '

 So he flew, with the strength of a lark he flew. But, as he rose, the cloud rose too; And not a gleam of the golden hair Came through the depth of the misty air; Till, weary with flying, with sighing sore, The strong sun-seeker could do no more. 

 His wings had had no chrism of gold; And his feathers felt withered and worn and old; And he sank, and quivered, and dropped like a stone. And there on his nest, where he left her, alone, Sat his little wife on her little eggs, Keeping them warm with wings and legs. 

 Did I say alone? Ah, no such thing! Full in her face was shining the king. 'Welcome, Sir Lark! You look tired, ' said he. 'Up is not always the best way to me. While you have been singing so high and away, I've been shining to your little wife all day. '

 He had set his crown all about the nest, And out of the midst shone her little brown breast; And so glorious was she in russet gold, That for wonder and awe Sir Lark grew cold. He popped his head under her wing, and lay As still as a stone, till the king was away. 

"As soon as Tricksey-Wee had finished her song, the lark's wife began alow, sweet, modest little song of her own; and after she had piped awayfor two or three minutes, she said:

"'You dear children, what can I do for you?'

"'Tell us where the she-eagle lives, please, ' said Tricksey-Wee. 

"'Well, I don't think there can be much harm in telling such wise, goodchildren, ' said Lady Lark; 'I am sure you don't want to do any mischief. '

"'Oh, no; quite the contrary, ' said Buffy-Bob. 

"'Then I'll tell you. She lives on the very topmost peak of Mount Skycrack;and the only way to get up is, to climb on the spiders' webs that cover itfrom top to bottom. '

"'That's rather serious, ' said Tricksey-Wee. 

"'But you don't want to go up, you foolish little thing. You can't go. Andwhat do you want to go up for?'

"'That is a secret, ' said Tricksey-Wee. 

"'Well, it's no business of mine, ' rejoined Lady Lark, a little offended, and quite vexed that she had told them. So she flew away to find somebreakfast for her little ones, who by this time were chirping veryimpatiently. The children looked at each other, joined hands, and walkedoff. 

"In a minute more the sun was up, and they soon reached the outside of thetree. The bark was so knobby and rough, and full of twigs, that theymanaged to get down, though not without great difficulty. Then, far awayto the north, they saw a huge peak, like the spire of a church, goingright up into the sky. They thought this must be Mount Skycrack, andturned their faces towards it. As they went on, they saw a giant or two, now and then, striding about the fields or through the woods, but theykept out of their way. Nor were they in much danger; for it was only oneor two of the border giants that were so very fond of children. At lastthey came to the foot of Mount Skycrack. It stood in a plain alone, andshot right up, I don't know how many thousand feet, into the air, a long, narrow, spearlike mountain. The whole face of it, from top to bottom, wascovered with a network of spiders' webs, with threads of various sizes, from that of silk to that of whipcord. The webs shook, and quivered, andwaved in the sun, glittering like silver. All about ran huge, greedyspiders, catching huge, silly flies, and devouring them. 

"Here they sat down to consider what could be done. The spiders did notheed them, but ate away at the flies. At the foot of the mountain, and allround it, was a ring of water, not very broad, but very deep. Now, as theysat watching, one of the spiders, whose web was woven across this water, somehow or other lost his hold, and fell on his back. Tricksey-Wee andBuffy-Bob ran to his assistance, and laying hold each of one of his legs, succeeded, with the help of the other legs, which struggled spiderfully, in getting him out upon dry land. As soon as he had shaken himself, anddried himself a little, the spider turned to the children, saying, "'And now, what can I do for you?'

"'Tell us, please, ' said they, 'how we can get up the mountain to theshe-eagle's nest. '

"'Nothing is easier, ' answered the spider. 'Just run up there, and tellthem all I sent you, and nobody will mind you. '

"'But we haven't got claws like you, Mr. Spider, ' said Buffy. 

"'Ah! no more you have, poor unprovided creatures! Still, I think we canmanage it. Come home with me. '

"'You won't eat us, will you?' said Buffy. 

"'My dear child, ' answered the spider, in a tone of injured dignity, 'Ieat nothing but what is mischievous or useless. You have helped me, andnow I will help you. '

"The children rose at once, and, climbing as well as they could, reachedthe spider's nest in the centre of the web. They did not find it verydifficult; for whenever too great a gap came, the spider spinning astrong cord stretched it just where they would have chosen to put theirfeet next. He left them in his nest, after bringing them two enormoushoney-bags, taken from bees that he had caught. Presently about six of thewisest of the spiders came back with him. It was rather horrible to lookup and see them all round the mouth of the nest, looking down on them incontemplation, as if wondering whether they would be nice eating. Atlength one of them said:

"'Tell us truly what you want with the eagle, and we will try to helpyou. '

"Then Tricksey-Wee told them that there was a giant on the borders whotreated little children no better than radishes, and that they hadnarrowly escaped being eaten by him; that they had found out that thegreat she-eagle of Mount Skycrack was at present sitting on his heart; andthat, if they could only get hold of the heart, they would soon teach thegiant better behaviour. 

"'But, ' said their host, 'if you get at the heart of the giant, youwill find it as large as one of your elephants. What can you do with it?'

"'The least scratch will kill it, ' answered Buffy-Bob. 

"'Ah! but you might do better than that, ' said the spider. --'Now we haveresolved to help you. Here is a little bag of spider-juice. The giantscannot bear spiders, and this juice is dreadful poison to them. We are allready to go up with you, and drive the eagle away. Then you must put theheart into this other bag, and bring it down with you; for then the giantwill be in your power. '

"'But how can we do that?' said Buffy. 'The bag is not much bigger than apudding-bag. '

"'But it is as large as you will find convenient to carry. '

"'Yes; but what are we to do with the heart?'

"'Put it into the bag, to be sure. Only, first, you must squeeze a dropout of the other bag upon it. You will see what will happen. '

"'Very well; we will, ' said Tricksey-Wee. 'And now, if you please, howshall we go?'

"'Oh, that's our business, ' said the first spider. 'You come with me, andmy grandfather will take your brother. Get up. '

"So Tricksey-Wee mounted on the narrow part of the spider's back, and heldfast. And Buffy-Bob got on the grandfather's back. And up they scrambled, over one web after another, up and up. And every spider followed; so that, when Tricksey-Wee looked back, she saw a whole army of spiders scramblingafter them. 

"'What can we want with so many?' she thought; but she said nothing. 

"The moon was now up, and it was a splendid sight below and around them. All Giantland was spread out under them, with its great hills, lakes, trees, and animals. And all above them was the clear heaven, and MountSkycrack rising into it, with its endless ladders of spiderwebs, glittering like cords made of moonbeams. And up the moonbeams went, crawling, and scrambling, and racing, a huge army of huge spiders. 

"At length they reached all but the very summit, where they stopped. Tricksey-Wee and Buffy-Bob could see above them a great globe of feathers, that finished off the mountain like an ornamental knob. 

"'How shall we drive her off?' said Buffy. 

"'We'll soon manage that, ' said the grandfather spider. 'Come on, you, down there. '

"Up rushed the whole army, past the children, over the edge of the nest, on to the she-eagle, and buried themselves in her feathers. In a momentshe became very restless, and went picking about with her beak. All atonce she spread out her wings, with a sound like a whirlwind, and flew offto bathe in the sea; and then the spiders began to drop from her in alldirections on their gossamer wings. The children had to hold fast to keepthe wind of the eagle's flight from blowing them off. As soon as it wasover, they looked into the nest, and there lay the giant's heart--an awfuland ugly thing. 

"'Make haste, child!' said Tricksey's spider. So Tricksey took her bag, and squeezed a drop out of it upon the heart. She thought she heard thegiant give a far-off roar of pain, and she nearly fell from her seat withterror. The heart instantly began to shrink. It shrunk and shrivelled tillit was nearly gone; and Buffy-Bob caught it up and put it into the bag. Then the two spiders turned and went down again as fast as they could. Before they got to the bottom, they heard the shrieks of the she-eagleover the loss of her egg; but the spiders told them not to be alarmed, forher eyes were too big to see them. By the time they reached the foot ofthe mountain, all the spiders had got home, and were busy again catchingflies, as if nothing had happened. So the children, after renewed thanksto their friends, set off, carrying the giant's heart with them. 

"'If you should find it at all troublesome, just give it a little morespider-juice directly, ' said the grandfather, as they took their leave. 

"Now, the giant had given an awful roar of pain, the moment they anointedhis heart, and had fallen down in a fit, in which he lay so long that allthe boys might have escaped if they had not been so fat. One did--and gothome in safety. For days the giant was unable to speak. The first words heuttered were, "'Oh, my heart! my heart!'

"'Your heart is safe enough, dear Thunderthump, ' said his wife. 'Really aman of your size ought not to be so nervous and apprehensive. I am ashamedof you. '

"'You have no heart, Doodlem, ' answered he. 'I assure you that this momentmine is in the greatest danger. It has fallen into the hands of foes, though who they are I cannot tell. '

"Here he fainted again; for Tricksey-Wee, finding the heart begin to swella little, had given it the least touch of spider-juice. 

"Again he recovered, and said:

"'Dear Doodlem, my heart is coming back to me. It is coming nearer andnearer. '

"After lying silent for a few hours, he exclaimed:

"'It is in the house, I know!' And he jumped up and walked about, lookingin every corner. 

"Just then, Tricksey-Wee and Buffy-Bob came out of the hole in thetree-root, and through the cat-hole in the door, and walked boldly towardsthe giant. Both kept their eyes busy watching him. Led by the love of hisown heart, the giant soon spied them, and staggered furiously towardsthem. 

"'I will eat you, you vermin!' he cried. 'Give me my heart. '

"Tricksey gave the heart a sharp pinch; when down fell the giant on hisknees, blubbering, and crying, and begging for his heart. 

"'You shall have it, if you behave yourself properly, ' said Tricksey. 

"'What do you want me to do?' asked he, whimpering. 

"'To take all those boys and girls, and carry them home at once. '

"'I'm not able; I'm too ill. '

"'Take them up directly. '

"'I can't, till you give me my heart. '

"'Very well!' said Tricksey; and she gave the heart another pinch. 

"The giant jumped to his feet, and catching up all the children, thrustsome into his waistcoat pockets, some into his breast-pocket, put two orthree into his hat, and took a bundle of them under each arm. Then hestaggered to the door. All this time poor Doodlem was sitting in herarmchair, crying, and mending a white stocking. 

"The giant led the way to the borders. He could not go fast, so that Buffyand Tricksey managed to keep up with him. When they reached the borders, they thought it would be safer to let the children find their own wayhome. So they told him to set them down. He obeyed. 

"'Have you put them all down, Mr. Thunderthump?' asked. Tricksey-Wee. 

"'Yes, ' said the giant. 

"'That's a lie!' squeaked a little voice; and out came a head from hiswaistcoat-pocket. 

"Tricksey-Wee pinched the heart till the giant roared with pain. 

"'You're not a gentleman. You tell stories, ' she said. 

"'He was the thinnest of the lot, ' said Thunderthump, crying. 

"'Are you all there now, children?' asked Tricksey. 

"'Yes, ma'am, ' said they, after counting themselves very carefully, andwith some difficulty; for they were all stupid children. 

"'Now, ' said Tricksey-Wee to the giant, 'will you promise to carry off nomore children, and never to eat a child again all you life?'

"'Yes, yes! I promise, ' answered Thunderthump, sobbing. 

"'And you will never cross the borders of Giantland?'

"'Never. '

"'And you shall never again wear white stockings on a Sunday, all yourlife long. --Do you promise?'

"The giant hesitated at this, and began to expostulate; but Tricksey-Wee, believing it would be good for his morals, insisted; and the giantpromised. 

"Then she required of him, that, when she gave him back his heart, heshould give it to his wife to take care of for him for ever after. Thepoor giant feel on his knees and began again to beg. But Tricksey-Weegiving the heart a slight pinch, he bawled out:

"'Yes, yes! Doodlem shall have it, I swear. Only she must not put it inthe flour-barrel, or in the dust-hole. '

"'Certainly not. Make your own bargain with her. --And you promise not tointerfere with my brother and me, or to take any revenge for what we havedone?'

"'Yes, yes, my dear children; I promise everything. Do, pray, make hasteand give me back my poor heart. '

"'Wait there, then, till I bring it to you. '

"'Yes, yes. Only make haste, for I feel very faint. '

"Tricksey-Wee began to undo the mouth of the bag. But Buffy-Bob, who hadgot very knowing on his travels, took out his knife with the pretence ofcutting the string; but, in reality, to be prepared for any emergency. 

"No sooner was the heart out of the bag, than it expanded to the size ofa bullock; and the giant, with a yell of rage and vengeance, rushed onthe two children, who had stepped sideways from the terrible heart. ButBuffy-Bob was too quick for Thunderthump. He sprang to the heart, andburied his knife in it, up to the hilt. A fountain of blood spouted fromit; and with a dreadful groan, the giant fell dead at the feet of littleTricksey-Wee, who could not help being sorry for him after all. "

 * * * * *

"Silly thing!" said a little wisehead. 

"What a horrid story!" said one small girl with great eyes, who satstaring into the fire. 

"I don't think it at all a nice story for supper, with those horridspiders, too, " said an older girl. 

"Well, let us have a game and forget it, " I said. 

"No; that we shan't, I am sure, " said one. 

"I will tell our Amy. Won't it be fun?"

"She'll scream, " said another. 

"I'll tell her all the more. "

"No, no; you mustn't be unkind, " said I; "else you will never help littlechildren against wicked giants. The giants will eat you too, then. "

"Oh! I know what you mean. You can't frighten me. "

This was said by one of the elder girls, who promised fair to reach beforelong the summit of uncompromising womanhood. She made me feel very smallwith my moralizing; so I dropt it. On the whole I was rather disappointedwith the effect of my story. Perhaps the disappointment was no more than Ideserved; but I did not like to think I had failed with children. 

Nor did I think so any longer after a darling little blue-eyed girl, whohad sat next me at tea, came to me to say good night, and, reaching up, put her arms round my neck and kissed me, and then whispered very gently:

"Thank you, dear Mr. Smith. I will be good. It was a very nice story. If Iwas a man, I would kill all the wicked people in the world. But I am onlya little girl, you know; so I can only be good. "

The darling did not know how much more one good woman can do to kill evilthan all the swords of the world in the hands of righteous heroes. 

CHAPTER III. 

A CHILD'S HOLIDAY. 

When the next evening of our assembly came, I could see on Adela's face alook of subdued expectation, and I knew now to what to attribute it: Harrywas going to read. There was a restlessness in her eyelids--they werealways rising, and falling as suddenly. But when the time drew near, theygrew more still; only her colour went and came a little. By the time wewere all seated, she was as quiet as death. Harry pulled out a manuscript. 

"Have you any objection to a ballad-story?" he asked of the companygenerally. 

"Certainly not, " was the common reply; though Ralph stared a little, andhis wife looked at him. I believe the reason was, that they had neverknown Harry write poetry before. But as soon as he had uttered the title--"_The Two Gordons_"--

"You young rascal!" cried his brother. "Am I to keep you in material forever? Are you going to pluck my wings till they are as bare as an egg?Really, ladies and gentlemen, " he continued, in pretended anger, whileHarry was keeping down a laugh of keen enjoyment, "it is too bad of thatscapegrace brother of mine! Of course you are all welcome to anything Ihave got; but he has no right to escape from his responsibilities on thataccount. It is rude to us all. I know he can write if he likes. "

"Why, Ralph, you would be glad of such a brother to steal your sermonsfrom, if you had been up all night as I was. Of course I did not mean toclaim any more credit than that of unearthing some of your shy verses. --May I read them or not?"

"Oh! of course. But it is lucky I came prepared for some escapade of thesort, and brought a manuscript of proper weight and length in my pocket. "

Suddenly Harry's face changed from a laughing to a grave one. I saw how itwas. He had glanced at Adela, and her look of unmistakeable disappointmentwas reflected in his face. But there was a glimmer of pleasure in hiseyes, notwithstanding; and I fancied I could see that the pleasure wouldhave been more marked, had he not feared that he had placed himself at adisadvantage with her, namely, that she would suppose him incapable ofproducing a story. However, it was only for a moment that this change offeeling stopped him. With a gesture of some haste he re-opened themanuscript, which he had rolled up as if to protect it from theindignation of his brother, and read the following ballad:

 _"The Two Gordons. _

 I

"There was John Gordon, and Archibold, And an earl's twin sons were they. When they were one and twenty years old, They fell out on their birth-day. 

"'Turn, ' said Archibold, 'brother sly! Turn now, false and fell;Or down thou goest, as black as a lie, To the father of lies in hell. '

"'Why this to me, brother Archie, I pray? What ill have I done to thee?''Smooth-faced hound, thou shall rue the day Thou gettest an answer of me. 

"'For mine will be louder than Lady Janet's, And spoken in broad daylight--And the wall to scale is my iron mail, Not her castle wall at night. '

"'I clomb the wall of her castle tall, In the moon and the roaring wind;It was dark and still in her bower until The morning looked in behind. '

"'Turn therefore, John Gordon, false brother; For either thou or I, On a hard wet bed--wet, cold, and red, For evermore shall lie. '

"'Oh, Archibold, Janet is my true love; Would I had told it thee!''I hate thee the worse. Turn, or I'll curse The night that got thee and me. '

"Their swords they drew, and the sparks they flew, As if hammers did anvils beat;And the red blood ran, till the ground began To plash beneath their feet. 

"'Oh, Archie! thou hast given me a cold supper, A supper of steel, I trow;But reach me one grasp of a brother's hand, And turn me, before you go. '

"But he turned himself on his gold-spurred heel, And away, with a speechless frown;And up in the oak, with a greedy croak, The carrion-crow claimed his own. 

 II

"The sun looked over a cloud of gold; Lady Margaret looked over the wall. Over the bridge rode Archibold; Behind him his merry men all. 

"He leads his band to the holy land. They follow with merry din. A white Christ's cross is on his back; In his breast a darksome sin. 

"And the white cross burned him like the fire, That he could nor eat nor rest;It burned in and in, to get at the sin, That lay cowering in his breast. 

"A mile from the shore of the Dead Sea, The army lay one night. Lord Archibold rose; and out he goes, Walking in the moonlight. 

"He came to the shore of the old salt sea-- Yellow sands with frost-like tinge;The bones of the dead on the edge of its bed, Lay lapped in its oozy fringe. 

"He sat him down on a half-sunk stone, And he sighed so dreary and deep:'The devil may take my soul when I wake, If he'd only let me sleep!'

"Out from the bones and the slime and the stones, Came a voice like a raven's croak:'Was it thou, Lord Archibold Gordon?' it said, 'Was it thou those words that spoke?'

"'I'll say them again, ' quoth Archibold, 'Be thou ghost or fiend of the deep. ''Lord Archibold heed how thou may'st speed, If thou sell me thy soul for sleep. '

"Lord Archibold laughed with a loud _ha! ha!_-- The Dead Sea curdled to hear:'Thou would'st have the worst of the bargain curst-- It has every fault but fear. '

"'Done, Lord Archibold?' 'Lord Belzebub, done!' His laugh came back in a moan. The salt glittered on, and the white moon shone, And Lord Archibold was alone. 

"And back he went to his glimmering tent; And down in his cloak he lay;And sound he slept; and a pale-faced man Watched by his bed till day. 

"And if ever he turned or moaned in his sleep, Or his brow began to lower, Oh! gentle and clear, in the sleeper's ear, He would whisper words of power;

"Till his lips would quiver, and sighs of bliss From sorrow's bosom would break;And the tear, soft and slow, would gather and flow; And yet he would not wake. 

"Every night the pale-faced man Sat by his bed, I say;And in mail rust-brown, with his visor down, Rode beside him in battle-fray. 

"But well I wot that it was not The devil that took his part;But his twin-brother John, he thought dead and gone, Who followed to ease his heart. 

 III

"Home came Lord Archibold, weary wight, Home to his own countree;And he cried, when his castle came in sight, 'Now Christ me save and see!'

"And the man in rust-brown, with his visor down, Had gone, he knew not where. And he lighted down, and into the hall, And his mother met him there. 

"But dull was her eye, though her mien was high; And she spoke like Eve to Cain:'Lord Archibold Gordon, answer me true, Or I'll never speak again. 

"'Where is thy brother, Lord Archibold? He was flesh and blood of thine. Has thy brother's keeper laid him cold, Where the warm sun cannot shine?'

"Lord Archibold could not speak a word, For his heart was almost broke. He turned to go. The carrion-crow At the window gave a croak. 

"'Now where art thou going, Lord Archie?' she said, 'With thy lips so white and thin?''Mother, good-bye; I am going to lie In the earth with my brother-twin. '

"Lady Margaret sank on her couch. 'Alas! I shall lose them both to-day. 'Lord Archibold strode along the road, To the field of the Brothers' Fray. 

"He came to the spot where they had fought. 'My God!' he cried in fright, 'They have left him there, till his bones are bare; Through the plates they glimmer white. '

"For his brother's armour lay there, dank, And worn with frost and dew. Had the long, long grass that grew so rank, Grown the very armour through?

"'O brother, brother!' cried the Earl, With a loud, heart-broken wail, 'I would put my soul into thy bones, To see thee alive and hale. '

"'Ha! ha!' said a voice from out the helm-- 'Twas the voice of the Dead Sea shore--And the joints did close, and the armour rose, And clattered and grass uptore--

"'Thou canst put no soul into his bones, Thy brother alive to set;For the sleep was thine, and thy soul is mine, And, Lord Archibold, well-met!'

"'Two words to that!' said the fearless Earl; 'The sleep was none of thine;For I dreamed of my brother all the night-- His soul brought the sleep to mine. 

"'But I care not a crack for a soul so black, And thou may'st have it yet:I would let it burn to eternity, My brother alive to set. '

"The demon lifted his beaver up, Crusted with blood and mould;And, lo! John Gordon looked out of the helm, And smiled upon Archibold. 

"'Thy soul is mine, brother Archie, ' he said, 'And I yield it thee none the worse;No devil came near thee, Archie, lad, But a brother to be thy nurse. '

"Lord Archibold fell upon his knee, On the blood-fed, bright green sod:'The soul that my brother gives back to me, Is thine for ever, O God!'"

"Now for a piece of good, honest prose!" said the curate, the moment Harryhad finished, without allowing room for any remarks. "That is, if theladies and gentlemen will allow me to read once more. "

Of course, all assented heartily. 

"It is nothing of a story, but I think it is something of a picture, drawnprincipally from experiences of my own childhood, which I told you wasspent chiefly in the north of Scotland. The one great joy of the year, although some years went without it altogether, was the summer visit paidto the shores of the Moray Firth. My story is merely a record of some ofthe impressions left on myself by such a visit, although the boy iscertainly not a portrait of myself; and if it has no result, no end, reaching beyond childhood into what is commonly called life, I presume itis not of a peculiar or solitary character in that respect; for surelymany that we count finished stories--life-histories--must look verydifferent to the angels; and if they haven't to be written over again, atleast they have to be carried on a few aeons further. 

"A CHILD'S HOLIDAY. 

"Before the door of a substantial farm-house in the north of Scotland, stands a vehicle of somewhat singular construction. When analysed, however, its composition proves to be simple enough. It is a commonagricultural cart, over which, by means of a few iron rods bent across, asemi-cylindrical covering of white canvas has been stretched. It is thustransformed from a hay or harvest cart into a family carriage, ofcomfortable dimensions, though somewhat slow of progress. The lack ofsprings is supplied by thick layers of straw, while sacks stuffed with thesame material are placed around for seats. Various articles are beingstowed away under the bags, and in the corners among the straw, bychildren with bright expectant faces; the said articles having been inprocess of collection and arrangement for a month or six weeks previous, in anticipation of the journey which now lies, in all its length andbrightness, the length and brightness of a long northern summer's day, before them. 

"At last, all their private mysteries of provisions, playthings, andbooks, having found places of safety more or less accessible on demand, every motion of the horse, every shake and rattle of the covered cart, makes them only more impatient to proceed; which desire is at lengthgratified by their moving on at a funeral pace through the open gate. They are followed by another cart loaded with the luggage necessary for asix-week's sojourn at one of the fishing villages on the coast, abouttwenty miles distant from their home. Their father and mother are tofollow in the gig, at a later hour in the day, expecting to overtake themabout half-way on the road. --Through the neighbouring village they pass, out upon the lonely highway. 

"Some seeds are borne to the place of their destiny by their own wings andthe wings of the wind, some by the wings of birds, some by simplegravitation. The seed of my story, namely, the covered cart, sent forth tofind the soil for its coming growth, is dragged by a stout horse to thesea-shore; and as it oscillates from side to side like a balloon trying towalk, I shall say something of its internal constitution, and principallyof its germ; for, regarded as the seed of my story, a pale boy of thirteenis the germ of the cart. First, though he will be of little use to usafterwards, comes a great strong boy of sixteen, who considerably despisesthis mode of locomotion, believing himself quite capable of driving hismother in the gig, whereas he is only destined to occupy her place in theevening, and return with his father. Then comes the said germ, a boy whomrepeated attacks of illness have blanched, and who looks as if thethinness of its earthly garment made his soul tremble with the proximityof the ungenial world. Then follows a pretty blonde, with smooth hair, andsmooth cheeks, and bright blue eyes, the embodiment of home pleasures andlove; whose chief enjoyment, and earthly destiny indeed, so far as yetrevealed, consist in administering to the cupidities of her youngerbrother, a very ogre of gingerbread men, and Silenus of bottled milk. Thismilk, by the way, is expected, from former experience, to affordconsiderable pleasure at the close of the journey, in the shape of one ortwo pellets of butter in each bottle; the novelty of the phenomenon, andnot any scarcity of the article, constituting the ground of interest. Ababy on the lap of a rosy country-girl, and the servant in his blue Sundaycoat, who sits outside the cover on the edge of the cart, but looks inoccasionally to show some attention to the young woman, complete thecontents of the vehicle. 

"Herbert Netherby, though, as I have said, only thirteen years of age, hadalready attained a degree of mental development sufficient forcharacterization. Disease had favoured the almost unhealthy predominanceof the mental over the bodily powers of the child; so that, although theconstitution which at one time was supposed to have entirely given way, had for the last few years been gradually gaining strength, he was stillto be seen far oftener walking about with his hands in his pockets, andhis gaze bent on the ground, or turned up to the clouds, than joining inany of the boyish sports of those of his own age. A nervous dread ofridicule would deter him from taking his part, even when for a moment thefountain of youthfulness gushed forth, and impelled him to find rest inactivity. So the impulse would pass away, and he would relapse into hisformer quiescence. But this partial isolation ministered to the growth ofa love of Nature which, although its roots were coeval with his being, might not have so soon appeared above ground, but for this lack of humancompanionship. Thus the boy became one of Nature's favourites, and enjoyedmore than a common share of her teaching. 

"But he loved her most in her stranger moods. The gathering of a bluecloud, on a sultry summer afternoon, he watched with intense hope, inexpectation of a thunder-storm; and a windy night, after harvest, when thetrees moaned and tossed their arms about, and the wind ran hither andhither over the desolate fields of stubble, made the child's heart dancewithin him, and sent him out careering through the deepening darkness. Tomeet him then, you would not have known him for the sedate, actionlessboy, whom you had seen in the morning looking listlessly on while hisschoolfellows played. But of all his loves for the shows of Nature, nonewas so strong as his love for water--common to childhood, with its millsof rushes, its dams, its bridges, its aqueducts; only in Herbert, it wasmore a quiet, delighted contemplation. Weakness prevented his joining hiscompanions in the river; but the sight of their motions in the mystery ofthe water, as they floated half-idealized in the clear depth, or glidedalong by graceful propulsion, gave him as much real enjoyment as theyreceived themselves. For it was water itself that delighted him, whetherin rest or motion; whether rippling over many stones, like the firsthalf-articulate sounds of a child's speech, mingled with a strange musicaltremble and cadence which the heart only, and not the ear, could detect;or lying in deep still pools, from the bottom of which gleamed up brightgreen stones, or yet brighter water-plants, cool in their little grotto, with water for an atmosphere and a firmament, through which the sun-rayscame, washed of their burning heat, but undimmed of their splendour. Hewould lie for an hour by the side of a hill-streamlet; he would standgazing into a muddy pool, left on the road by last night's rain. Once, insuch a brown-yellow pool, he beheld a glory--the sun, encircled with ahalo vast and wide, varied like the ring of opal colours seen about themoon when she floats through white clouds, only larger and brighter thanthat. Looking up, he could see nothing but a chaos of black clouds, brilliant towards the sun: the colours he could not see, except in themuddy water. 

"In autumn the rains would come down for days, and the river grow stormy, forget its clearness, and spread out like a lake over the meadows; andthat was delightful indeed. But greater yet was the delight when thefoot-bridge was carried away; for then they had to cross the stream in aboat. He longed for water where it could not be; would fain have seen itrunning through the grass in front of his father's house; and had a wakingvision of a stream with wooden shores that babbled through his bedroom. Soit may be fancied with what delight he overheard the parental decisionthat they should spend some weeks by the shores of the great world--water, the father and the grave of rivers. 

"After many vain outlooks, and fruitless inquiries of their driver, asudden turn in the road brought them in sight of the sea between thehills; itself resembling a low blue hill, covered with white stones. Indeed, the little girl only doubted whether those were white stones orsheep scattered all over it. They lost sight of it; saw it again; andhailed it with greater rapture than at first. 

"The sun was more than halfway down when they arrived. They had secured alittle cottage, almost on the brow of the high shore, which in most placeswent down perpendicularly to the beach or sands, and in some right intodeep water; but opposite the cottage, declined with a sloping, grassydescent. A winding track led down to the village, which nestled in ahollow, with steep footpaths radiating from it. In front of it, lowerstill, lay the narrow beach, narrow even at low water, for the steep, rocky shore went steep and rocky down into the abyss. A thousandfantastic rocks stood between land and water; amidst which, at half-tide, were many little rocky arbours, with floors of sunny sand, and three orfour feet of water. Here you might bathe, or sit on the ledges with yourfeet in the water, medicated with the restless glitter and bewilderment ofa half-dissolved sunbeam. 

"A promontory, curving out into the sea, on the right, formed a bay andnatural harbour, from which, towards the setting sun, many fishing-boatswere diverging into the wide sea, as the children, stiff and weary, weregetting out of the cart. Herbert's fatigue was soon forgotten in watchingtheir brown-dyed sails, glowing almost red in the sunset, as they went outfar into the dark, hunters of the deep, to spend the night on the waters. 

"From the windows, the children could not see the shore, with all itsburst of beauties struck out from the meeting of things unlike; for it layfar down, and the brow of the hill rose between it and them; only theyknew that below the waves were breaking on the rocks, and they heard thegush and roar filling all the air. The room in which Herbert slept was alittle attic, with a window towards the sea. After gazing with unutterabledelight on the boundless water, which lay like a condensed sky in the greylight of the sleeping day (for there is no night at this season in theNorth), till he saw it even when his eyelids closed from weariness, he laydown, and the monotonous lullaby of the sea mingled with his dreams. 

"Next morning he was wakened by the challenging and replying of thesentinel-cocks, whose crowing sounded to him more clear and musical thanthat of any of the cocks at home. He jumped out of bed. It was a sunnymorning, and his soul felt like a flake of sunshine, as he looked out ofhis window on the radiant sea, green and flashing, its clear surface hereand there torn by the wind into spots of opaque white. So happy did hefeel, that he might have been one who had slept through death and thejudgment, and had awaked, a child, still in the kingdom of God, under thenew heavens and upon the new earth. 

"After breakfast, they all went down with their mother to the sea-shore. As they went, the last of the boats which had gone out the night before, were returning laden, like bees. The sea had been bountiful. Everythingshone with gladness. But as Herbert drew nearer, he felt a kind of dreadat the recklessness of the waves. On they hurried, assailed the rocks, devoured the sands, cast themselves in wild abandonment on whateveropposed them. He feared at first to go near, for they were unsympathizing, caring not for his love or his joy, and would sweep him away like one ofthose floating sea-weeds. 'If they are such in their play, ' thought he, 'what must they be in their anger!' But ere long he was playing with thesea as with a tame tiger, chasing the retreating waters till they ralliedand he, in his turn, had to flee from their pursuit. Wearied at length, heleft his brother and sister building castles of wet sand, and wanderedalong the shore. 

"Everywhere about lay shallow lakes of salt water, so shallow that theywere invisible, except when a puff of wind blew a thousand ripples intothe sun; whereupon they flashed as if a precipitous rain of stormy lighthad rushed down upon them. Lifting his eyes from one of these films ofwater, Herbert saw on the opposite side, stooping to pick up some treasureof the sea, a little girl, apparently about nine years of age. When sheraised herself and saw Herbert, she moved slowly away with a quiet grace, that strangely contrasted with her tattered garments. She was ragged likethe sea-shore, or the bunch of dripping sea-weed that she carried in herhand; she was bare from foot to knee, and passed over the wet sand with agleam; the wind had been at more trouble with her hair than any lovinghand; it was black, lusterless, and tangled. The sight of rags was alwaysenough to move Herbert's sympathies, and he wished to speak to the littlegirl, and give her something. But when he had followed her a shortdistance, all at once, and without having looked round, she began to glideaway from him with a wave-like motion, dancing and leaping; till a clearpool in the hollow of a tabular rock imbedded in the sand, arrested herprogress. Here she stood like a statue, gazing into its depth; then, witha dart like a kingfisher, plunged half into it, caught something at whichher head and curved neck showed that she looked with satisfaction--andagain, before Herbert could come near her, was skimming along the unevenshore. He followed, as a boy follows a lapwing; but she, like the lapwing, gradually increased the distance between them, till he gave up the pursuitwith some disappointment, and returned to his brother and sister. Moreambitious than they, he proceeded to construct--chiefly for the sake ofthe moat he intended to draw around it--a sand-castle of considerablepretensions; but the advancing tide drove him from his stronghold beforehe had begun to dig the projected fosse. 

"As they returned home, they passed a group of fishermen in their longboots and flapped sou'-westers, looking somewhat anxiously seaward. Muchto Herbert's delight, they predicted a stiff gale, and probably a storm. Alow bank of cloud had gathered along the horizon, and the wind had alreadyfreshened; the white spots were thicker on the waves, and the sound oftheir trampling on the shore grew louder. 

"After dinner, they sat at the window of their little parlour, looking outover the sea, which grew darker and more sullen, ever as the afternoondeclined. The cloudy bank had risen and walled out the sun; but a narrowspace of blue on the horizon looked like the rent whence the wind rushedforth on the sea, and with the feet of its stormy horses tore up the bluesurface, and scattered the ocean-dust in clouds. As evening drew on, Herbert could keep in the house no longer. He wandered away on theheights, keeping from the brow of the cliffs; now and then stooping andstruggling with a stormier eddy; till, descending into a little hollow, hesunk below the plane of the tempest, and stood in the glow of a suddencalm, hearing the tumult all round him, but himself in peace. Looking up, he could see nothing but the sides of the hollow with the sky resting onthem, till, turning towards the sea, he saw, at some distance, a point ofthe cliff rising abruptly into the air. At the same moment, the sun lookedout from a crack in the clouds, on the very horizon; and as Herbert couldnot see the sunset, the peculiar radiance illuminated the more strangelythe dark vault of earth and cloudy sky. Suddenly, to his astonishment, itwas concentrated on the form of the little ragged girl. She stood on thesummit of the peak before him. The light was a crown, not to her headonly, but to her whole person; as if she herself were the crown set on thebrows of the majestic shore. Disappearing as suddenly, it left herstanding on the peak, dark and stormy; every tress, if tresses they couldbe called, of her windy hair, every tatter of her scanty garments, seemingindividually to protest, 'The wind is my playmate; let me go!' IfAphrodite was born of the sunny sea, this child was the offspring of thewindy shore; as if the mind of the place had developed for itself aconsciousness, and this was its embodiment. She bore a strange affinity tothe rocks, and the sea-weed, and the pools, and the wide, wild ocean; andHerbert would scarcely have been shocked to see her cast herself from thecliff into the waves, which now dashed half-way up its height. By the timehe had got out of the hollow, she had vanished, and where she had gone hecould not conjecture. He half feared she had fallen over the precipice;and several times that night, as the vapour of dreams gathered around him, he started from his half-sleep in terror at seeing the little genius ofthe storm fall from her rock-pedestal into the thundering waves as itsfoot. 

"Next day the wind continuing off the sea, with vapour and rain, thechildren were compelled to remain within doors, and betake themselves tobooks and playthings. But Herbert's chief resource lay in watching the seaand the low grey sky, between which was no distinguishable horizon. Thewind still increased, and before the afternoon it blew a thorough storm, wind and waves raging together on the rocky shore. The fishermen hadsecured their boats, drawing them up high on the land; but what vesselsmight be labouring under the low misty pall no one could tell. Manyanxious fears were expressed for some known to be at sea; and many talesof shipwreck were told that night in the storm-shaken cottages. 

"The day was closing in, darkened the sooner by the mist, when Herbert, standing at the window, now rather weary, saw the little girl dart pastlike a petrel. He snatched up his cap and rushed from the house, buttoninghis jacket to defend him from the weather. The little fellow, though soquiet among other boys, was a lover of the storm as much as the girl was, and would have preferred its buffeting, so long as his strength lasted, tothe warmest nook by the fireside; and now he could not resist thetemptation to follow her. As soon as he was clear of the garden, he sawher stopping to gaze down on the sea--starting again along the heights--blown out of her course--and regaining it by struggling up in the teeth ofthe storm. He at once hastened in pursuit, trying as much as possible tokeep out of her sight, and was gradually lessening the distance betweenthem, when, on crossing the hollow already mentioned, he saw her on theedge of the cliff, close to the pinnacle on which she had stood the nightbefore; where after standing for a moment, she sank downwards andvanished, but whether into earth or air, he could not tell. He approachedthe place. A blast of more than ordinary violence fought against him, asif determined to preserve the secret of its favourite's refuge. But hepersisted, and gained the spot. 

"He then found that the real edge of the precipice was several yardsfarther off, the ground sloping away from where he stood. At his feet, inthe slope, was an almost perpendicular opening. He hesitated a little;but, sure that the child was a real human child and no phantom, he did nothesitate long. He entered and found it lead spirally downwards. Descendingwith some difficulty, for the passage was narrow, he arrived at a smallchamber, into one corner of which the stone shaft, containing the stair, projected half its round. The chamber looked as if it had been hollowedout of the rock. A narrow window, little more than a loop-hole through thethick wall, admitted the roar of the waves and a dim grey light. Thislight was just sufficient to show him the child in the farthest corner ofthe chamber, bending forward with her hands between her knees, in aposture that indicated fear. The little playfellow of the winds was notsure of him. At the first word he spoke, a sea-bird, which had made itshome in the apartment, startled by the sound of his voice, dashed throughthe window, with a sudden clang of wings, into the great misty voidwithout; and Herbert looking out after it, almost forgot the presence ofthe little girl in the awe and delight of the spectacle before him. It wasnow much darker, and the fog had settled down more closely on the face ofthe deep; but just below him he could see the surface of the ocean, whosemad waves appeared to rush bellowing out of the unseen on to the shore ofthe visible. When, after some effort, he succeeded in leaning out of thewindow, he could see the shore beneath him; for he was on its extremeverge, and the spray now and then dashed through the loop-hole into thechamber. He was still gazing and absorbed, when a sweet timid voice, thatyet partook undefinably of the wildness of a sea-breeze, startled him outof his contemplation. 

"'Did my mother send you to me?' said the voice. 

"He looked down. Close beside him stood the child, gazing earnestly upinto his face through the twilight from the window. 

"'Where does your mother live?' asked Herbert. 

"'All out there, ' the child answered, pointing to the window. 

"While he was thinking what she could mean, she continued:

"'Mother is angry to-night; but when the sun comes out, and those nastyclouds are driven away, she will laugh again. Mother does not like blackclouds and fogs; they spoil her house. '

"Still perplexed as to the child's meaning, Herbert asked, "'Does your mother love you?'

"'Yes, except when she is angry. She does not love me to-night; butto-morrow, perhaps, she will be all over laughs to me; and that makes merun to her; and she will smile to me all day, till night comes and shegoes to sleep, and leaves me alone; for I hear her sleeping, but I cannotgo to sleep with her. '"

Here the curate interrupted his reading to remark, that he feared he hadspoiled the pathos of the child's words, by translating them into English;but that they must gain more, for the occasion, by being made intelligibleto his audience, than they could lose by the change from their originalform. 

"Herbert's sympathies had by this time made him suspect that the childmust be talking of the sea, which somehow she had come to regard as hermother. He asked, "'Where does your father live, then?'

"'I have not any father, ' she answered. 'I had one, but mother took him. '

"Several other questions Herbert put; but still the child's notions ran inthe same channel. They were wild notions, but uttered with confidence asif they were the most ordinary facts. It seemed that whatever herimagination suggested, bore to her the impress of self-evident truth; andthat she knew no higher reality. 

"By this time it was almost dark. 

"'I must go home, ' said Herbert. 

"'I will go with you, ' responded the girl. 

"She ran along beside him, but in the discursive manner natural to her;till, coming to one of the paths descending towards the shore, she darteddown, without saying good-night even. 

"Next day, the storm having abated, and the sun shining out, they werestanding on the beach, near a fisherman, who like them was gazingseawards, when the child went skimming past along the shore. Mrs. Netherbyasked the fisherman about her, and learned the secret of the sea'smotherhood. She had been washed ashore from the wreck of a vessel; and wasfound on the beach, tied to a spar. All besides had perished. From thefragment they judged it to have been a Dutch vessel. Some one had said inher hearing--'Poor child! the sea is her mother;' and her imagination hadcherished the idea. A fisherman, who had no family, had taken her to hishouse and loved her dearly. But he lost his wife shortly after; and a yearor two ago, the sea had taken him, the only father she knew. All, however, were kind to her. She was welcome wherever she chose to go and share withthe family. But no one knew today where she would be to-morrow, where shewould have her next meal, or where she would sleep. She was wild, impulsive, affectionate. The simple people of the village believed her tobe of foreign birth and high descent, while reverence for her lonelyconditions made them treat her with affection as well as deference; sothat the forsaken child, regarded as subject to no law, was as happy inher freedom and confidence as any wild winged thing of the land or sea. The summer loved her; the winter strengthened her. Her first baptism inthe salt waters had made her a free creature of the earth and skies; hadfortified her, Achilles-like, against all hardship, cold, and nakednessto come; had delivered her from the bonds of habit and custom, and shownin her what earth and air of themselves can do, to make the lowest, mostundeveloped life, a divine gift. 

"The following morning, the sea was smooth and clear. So was the sky. Looking down from their cottage, the sea appeared to Herbert to slopesteeply up to the horizon, so that the shore lay like a deep narrow valleybetween him and it. Far down, at the low pier, he saw a little boatbelonging to a retired ship-captain. The oars were on board; and the ownerand some one with him were walking towards the boat. Now the captain hadpromised to take him with him some day. 

"He was half-way down the road a moment after the words of permission hadleft his mother's lips, and was waiting at the boat when the two men cameup. They readily agreed to let him go with them. They were going to row toa village on the opposite side of the bay, and return in the evening. Herbert was speechless with delight. They got in, the boat heaving beneaththem, unmoored and pushed off. This suspension between sea and sky was anew sensation to Herbert; for when he looked down, his eye did not reposeon the surface, but penetrated far into a clear green abyss, where thepower of vision seemed rather to vanish than be arrested. When he lookedup, the shore was behind them; and he knew, for the first time, what itwas to look at the land as he had looked at the sea; to regard the land, in its turn, as a _phenomenon_--observing it apart from himself. 

"Running along the shore like a little bird, he saw the child of the sea;and, further to the right, the peak on which she had stood in the sunset, and into whose mysterious chamber she had led him. The captain here put apocket-telescope into his hand; and with this annihilator of space he madenew discoveries. He saw a little window in the cliff, doubtless the samefrom which he had looked out on the dim sea; and then perceived that thefront of the cliff, in that part, was no rock, but a wall, regularly andstrongly built. It was evidently the remains of an old fortress. The frontfoundation had been laid in the rocks of the shore; the cliff had thenbeen faced up with masonry; and behind chambers had been cut in the rock;into one of which Herbert had descended a ruined spiral stair. The castleitself, which had stood on the top, had mouldered away, leaving only arugged and broken surface. 

"By this time they were near the opposite shore, and Herbert looked upwith dread at the great cliffs that rose perpendicularly out of the water, which heaved slowly and heavily, with an appearance of immense depth, against them. Their black jagged sides had huge holes, into which the searushed--far into the dark--with a muffled roar; and large protuberances ofrock, bare and threatening. Numberless shadows lay on their faces; andhere and there from their tops trickled little steams, plashing into thewaves at their feet. Passing through a natural arch in a rock, lofty andnarrow, called the Devil's Bridge, and turning a little promontory, theywere soon aground on the beach. 

"When the captain had finished his business, they had some dinner at theinn; and while the two men drank their grog, Herbert was a delightedlistener to many a sea story, old and new. How the boy longed to be asailor, and live always on the great waters! The blocks and cordage of thefast-rooted flagstaff before the inn, assumed an almost magic interest tohim, as the two sailors went on with their tales of winds and rocks, andnarrow escapes and shipwrecks. And how proud he was of the friendship ofthese old seafarers!

"At length it was time to return home. As they rowed slowly along, the sunwas going down in the west, and their shadows were flung far on the waves, which gleamed and glistened in the rich calm light. Land and sea werebathed in the blessing of heaven; its glory was on the rocks, and on theshore, and in the depth of the heaving sea. Under the boat, wherever itwent, shone a paler green. The only sounds were of the oars in therow-locks, of the drip from their blades as they rose and made curves inthe air, and the low plash with which they dipped again into the sea;while the water in the wake of the boat hastened to compose itself againto that sleep from which it had been unwillingly roused by the passingkeel. The boy's heart was full. Often in after years he longed for thewings of a dove that he might fly to that boat (still floating in the calmsea of his memory), and there lie until his spirit had had rest enough. 

"The next time that Herbert approached the little girl, she waited hiscoming; and while they talked, Mrs. Netherby joined them with her Effie. Presently the gaze of the sea-child was fixed upon little Effie, to theall but total neglect of the others. The result of this contemplation wasvisible the next day. Mrs. Netherby having invited her to come and seethem, the following morning, as they were seated at breakfast, the door ofthe room opened, without any prefatory tap, and in peeped with wildconfidence the smiling face of the untamed Undine. It was at once evidentthat civilization had laid a finger upon her, and that a new womanlyimpulse had been awakened. For there she stood, gazing at Effie, and withboth hands smoothing down her own hair, which she had managed, after afashion, to part in the middle, and had plentifully wetted with sea-water. In her run up the height, it had begun to dry, and little spangles of saltwere visible all over it. She could not alter her dress, whose manyslashes showed little lining except her skin; but she had done all shecould to approximate her appearance to that of Effie, whom she seemed toregard as a little divinity. 

"Mrs. Netherby's heart was drawn towards the motherless child, and sheclothed her from head to foot; though how far this was a benefit asregarded cold and heat, is a question. Herbert began to teach her to read;in which her progress was just like her bodily movements over the earth'ssurface; now a dead pause, and now the flight of a bird. Now and then shewould suddenly start up, heedless where her book might happen to fall, andrush out along the heights; returning next day, or the same afternoon, and, without any apology, resuming her studies. 

"This holiday was to Herbert one of those seasons which tinge the whole ofthe future life. It was a storehouse of sights and sounds and images ofthought; a tiring-room, wherein to clothe the ideas that came forth to acttheir parts upon the stage of reason. Often at night, just ere the sleepthat wipes out the day from the overfilled and blotted tablets of thebrain, enwrapped him in its cool, grave-like garments, a vision of thedarkened sea, spotted and spangled with pools of unutterable light, wouldrise before him unbidden, in that infinite space for creation which liesdark and waiting under the closed eyelids. The darkened sea might be butthe out-thrown image of his own overshadowed soul; and the spots of lightthe visual form of his hopes. So clearly would these be present to himsometimes, that when he opened his eyes and gazed into the darkness of hisroom, he would see the bright spaces shining before him still. Then hewould fall asleep and dream on about the sea--watching a little cutterperhaps, as 'she leaned to the lee, and girdled the wave, ' flinging thefrolic-some waters from her bows, and parting a path for herself between. Or he would be seated with the helm in his hand, and all the force and thejoy wherewith she dashed headlong on the rising waves, and half piercedthem and half drove them under her triumphant keel, would be issuing fromhis will and his triumph. 

"Surely even for the sad despairing waves there is some hope, out in thatboundless room which borders on the sky, and upon which, even in thegloomiest hour of tempest, falls sometimes from heaven a glory intense. 

"So when the time came that the lover of waters must return, he went backenriched with new visions of them in their great home and motherland, hehad seen them still and silent as a soul in holy trance; he had seen themraving in a fury of livid green, swarming with 'white-mouthed waves;' hehad seen them lying in one narrow ridge of unbroken blue, where the eye, finding no marks to measure the distance withal, saw miles as furlongs;and he had seen sweeps and shadows innumerable stretched along its calmexpanse, so dividing it into regions, and graduating the distance, thatthe eye seemed to wander on and on from sea to sea, and the ships to floatin oceans beyond oceans of infinite reach. O lonely space! awful indeedwert thou, did no one love us! But he had yet to receive one more visionof the waters, and that was to be in a dream. With this dream I will closethe story of his holiday; for it went with him ever after, breaking forthfrom the dream-home, and encompassing his waking thoughts with anatmosphere of courage and hope, when his heart was ready to sink in aworld which was not the world the boy had thought to enter, when he ran towelcome his fate. 

"On their last Sunday, Herbert went with his mother to the evening servicein a little chapel in the midst of the fishermen's cottages. It was acurious little place, with galleries round, that nearly met in the middle, and a high pulpit with a great sounding-board over it, from which came thevoice of an earnest little Methodist, magnified by his position into amighty prophet. The good man was preaching on the parable of _the sheepand the goats;_ and, in his earnestness for his own theology and the soulsof his hearers, was not content that the Lord should say these things inhis own way, but he must say them in his too. And a terrible utterance itwas! Looking about, unconsciously seeking some relief from theaccumulation of horrors with which the preacher was threatening the goatsof his congregation, Herbert spied, in the very front of one of the sidegalleries, his little pupil, white with terror, and staring with roundunwinking eyes full in the face of the prophet of fear. Never after couldhe read the parable without seeing the blanched face of the child, andfeeling a renewal of that evening's sadness over the fate of the poorgoats which afterwards grew into the question--'Doth God care for oxen, and not for goats?' He never saw the child again; for they left the nextday, and she did not come to bid them good-by. 

"As he went home from the chapel, her face of terror haunted him. 

"That night he fell asleep, as usual, with the sound of the waves in hissoul. And as he slept he dreamed. --He stood, as he thought, upon thecliff, within which lay the remnants of the old castle. The sun was slowlysinking down the western sky, and a great glory lay upon the sea. Close tothe shore beneath, by the side of some low rocks, floated a little boat. He thought how delightful it would be to lie in the boat in the sunlight, and let it die away upon his bosom. He scrambled down the rocks, steppedon board, and laid himself in the boat, with his face turned towards thesinking sun. Lower and lower the sun sank, seeming to draw the heavensafter him, like a net. At length he plunged beneath the waves; but as hislast rays disappeared on the horizon, lo! a new splendour burst upon theastonished boy. The whole waters were illuminated from beneath, with thepermeating glories of the buried radiance. In rainbow circles, andintermingling, fluctuating sweeps of colours, the sea lay like an intenseopal, molten with the fire of its own hues. The sky gave back theeffulgence with a less deep but more heavenly loveliness. 

"But betwixt the sea and the sky, just over the grave of the down-gonesun, a dark spot appeared, parting the earth and the heaven where they hadmingled in embraces of light. And the dark spot grew and spread, and acold breath came softly over the face of the shining waters; and thecolours paled away; and as the blossom-sea withered and grew grey below, the clouds withered and darkened above. The sea began to swell and moanand look up, like the soul of a man whose joy is going down in darkness;and a horror came over the heart of the sleeper, and in his dream helifted up his head, meaning to rise and hasten to his home. But, behold, the shore was far away, and the great castle-cliff had sunk to a lowridge! With a cry, he sank back on the bosom of the careless sea. 

"The boat began to rise and fall on the waking waves. Then a great blastof wind laid hold of it, and whirled it about. Once more he looked up, andsaw that the tops of the waves were torn away, and that 'the white waterwas coming out of the black. ' Higher and higher rose the billows; louderand louder roared the wind across their jagged furrows, tearing awfuldescants from their bursting chords, and tossing the little boat like aleaf in the lone desert of storms; now holding it perched on the verycrest of a wave, in the mad eye of the tempest, while the chaotic watersdanced, raving about, in hopeless confusion; now letting it sink in thehollow of the waves, and lifting above it cold glittering walls of water, that becalmed it as in a sheltered vale, while the hurricane roaringabove, flung arches of writhing waters across from billow to billowoverhead, and threatened to close, as in a transparent tomb, boat and boy. At length, when the boat rose once more, unwilling, to the awful ridge, jagged and white, a yet fiercer blast tore it from the top of the wave. The dreamer found himself choking in the waters, and soon lost allconsciousness of the buffeting waves or the shrieking winds. 

"When the dreamer again awoke, he felt that he was carried along throughthe storm above the waves; for they reached him only in bursts of spray, though the wind raged around him more fiercely than ever. He opened hiseyes and looked downwards. Beneath him seethed and boiled the tumultuousbillows, their wreathy tops torn from them, and shot, in long vanishingsheets of spray, over the distracted wilderness. Such was the turmoilbeneath, that he had to close his eyes again to feel that he was movingonwards. 

"The next time he opened them, it was to look up. And lo! a shadowy facebent over him, whence love unutterable was falling in floods, from eyesdeep, and dark, and still, as the heavens that are above the clouds, Greatwaves of hair streamed back from a noble head, and floated on the tides ofthe tempest. The face was like his mother's and like his father's, andlike a face that he had seen somewhere in a picture, but far morebeautiful and strong and loving than all. With a sudden glory of gladness, in which the spouting pinnacles of the fathomless pyramids of wanderingwaters dwindled into the confusion of a few troubled water-drops, he knew, he knew that the Lord was carrying his lamb in his bosom. Around him werethe everlasting arms, and above him the lamps that light heaven and earth, the eyes that watch and are not weary. And now he felt the arms in whichhe lay, and he nestled close to that true, wise bosom, which has room init for all, and where none will strive. 

"Over the waters went the Master, now crossing the calm hollows, nowclimbing the rising wave, now shrouded in the upper ocean of driftingspray, that wrapped him around with whirling force, and anon calmlydescending the gliding slope into the glassy trough below. Sometimes, whenhe looked up, the dreamer could see nothing but the clouds driving acrossthe heavens, whence now and then a star, in a little well of blue, lookeddown upon him; but anon he knew that the driving clouds were his driftinghair, and that the stars in the blue wells of heaven were his love-lightedeyes. Over the sea he strode, and the floods lifted up their heads invain. The billows would gather and burst around and over them; but amoment more, and the billows were beneath his feet, and on they weregoing, safe and sure. 

"Long time the journey endured; and the dream faded and again revived. Itwas as if he had slept, and again awaked; for he lay in soft grass on amountain-side, and the form of a mighty man lay outstretched beside him, who was weary with a great weariness. 

"Below, the sea howled and beat against the base of the mountain; but itwas far below. Again the Lord arose, and lifted him up, and bore himonwards. Up to the mountain-top they went, through the keen, cold air, andover the fields of snow and ice. On the peak the Master paused and lookeddown. 

"In a vast amphitheatre below, was gathered a multitude that no man couldnumber. They crowded on all sides beyond the reach of the sight, rising upthe slopes of the surrounding mountains, till they could no longer bedistinguished; grouped and massed upon height above height; filling thehollows, and plains, and platforms all about. But every eye looked towardsthe lowest centre of the mountain-amphitheatre, where a little vacant spotawaited the presence of some form, which should be the heart of all thethrong. Down towards this centre the Lord bore him. Entering the holycircle, he set him gently down, and then looked all around, as ifsearching earnestly for some one he could not see. 

"And not finding whom he sought, he walked across the open space. A pathwas instantly divided for him through the dense multitude surrounding it. Along this lane of men and women and children, he went; and Herbert ran, following close at his feet; for now all the universe seemed empty savewhere he was. And he was not rebuked, but suffered to follow. And althoughthe Lord walked fast and far, the feet following him were not weary, butgrew in speed and in power. Through the great crowd and beyond it, neverlooking back, up and over the brow of the mountain they went, and leavingbehind them the gathered universe of men, descended into a pale night. Hither and hither went the Master, searching up and down the gloomyvalley; now looking behind a great rock, and now through a thicket ofbrushwood; now entering a dark cave, and now ascending a height and gazingall around; till at last, on a bare plain, seated on a grey stone, withher hands in her lap, they found the little orphan child who had calledthe sea her mother. 

"As he drew near to her, the Lord called out, 'My poor little lamb, I havefound you at last!' But she did not seem to hear or understand what hesaid; for she fell on her knees, and held up her clasped hands, and cried, 'Do not be angry with me. I am a goat; and I ran away because I wasafraid. Do not burn me. ' But all the answer the Lord made was to stoop, and lift her, and hold her to his breast. And she was an orphan no more. 

"So he turned and went back over hill and over dale, and Herbert followed, rejoicing that the lost lamb was found. 

"As he followed, he spied in a crevice of a rock, close by his path, alovely primrose. He stooped to pluck it. And ere he began again to follow, a cock crew shrill and loud; and he knew it was the cock that rebukedPeter; and he trembled and stood up. The Master had vanished. He, too, fell a-weeping bitterly. And again the cock crew; and he opened his eyes, and knew that he had dreamed. His mother stood by his bedside, comfortingthe weeper with kisses. And he cried to her--

"'O mother! surely he would not come over the sea to find me in the storm, and then leave me because I stopped to pluck a flower!'"

 * * * * *

"Too long, I am afraid, " said the curate, the moment he had finished hispaper, looking at his watch. 

"We have not thought so, I am sure, " said Adela, courteously. The ladiesrose to go. 

"Who is to read next?" said the schoolmaster. 

"Why, of course, " said the curate, indignantly, "it ought to be mybrother, but there is no depending on him. "

"If this frost lasts, I will positively read next time, " said the doctor. "But, you know, Ralph, it will be better for you to bring something elsewith you, lest I should fail again. "

"Cool!" said the curate. "I think it is time we dropped it. "

"No, please don't, " said Harry, with a little anxiety in his tone. "Ireally want to read my story. "

"It looks like it, doesn't it?"

"Now, Ralph, a clergyman should never be sarcastic. Be as indignant as youplease--but--sarcastic--never. It is very easy for you, who know just whatyou have to do, and have besides whole volumes in that rickety old desk ofyours, to keep such an appointment as this. Mine is produced for theoccasion, _bona fide_; and I cannot tell what may be required of me fromone hour to another. "

He went up to Adela. 

"I am very sorry to have failed again, " he said. 

"But you won't next time, will you?"

"I will not, if I can help it. "

CHAPTER IV. 

INTERRUPTION. 

But it was Adela herself who failed next time. I had seen her during thereading draw her shawl about her as if she were cold. She seemed quitewell when the friends left, but she had caught a chill; and before themorning she was quite feverish, and unable to leave her bed. 

"You see, Colonel, " said Mrs. Cathcart at breakfast, "that this doctor ofyours is doing the child harm instead of good. He has been suppressinginstead of curing the complaint; and now she is worse than ever. "

"When the devil--" I began to remark in reply. 

"Mr. Smith!" exclaimed Mrs. Cathcart. 

"Allow me, madam, to finish my sentence before you make up your mind to beshocked. --When the devil goes out of a man, or a woman either, he gives aterrible wrench by way of farewell. Now, as the prophet Job teaches us, all disease is from the devil; and--"

"The prophet Job!--Mr. Smith?"

"Well, the old Arab Scheik, if you like that epithet better. "

"Really, Mr. Smith!"

"Well, I don't mind what you call him. I only mean to say that a diseasesometimes goes out with a kind of flare, like a candle--or like the poorlife itself. I believe, if this is an intermittent fever--as, from yourdescription, I expect it will prove to be--it will be the best thing forher. "

"Well, we shall see what Dr. Wade will say. "

"Dr. Wade?" I exclaimed. 

"Of course, my brother will not think of trusting such a serious case toan inexperienced young man like Mr. Armstrong. "

"It seems to me, " I replied, "that for some time the case has ceased to bea serious one. You must allow that Adela is better. "

"Seemed to be better, Mr. Smith. But it was all excitement, and here isthe consequence. I, as far as I have any influence, decidedly object toMr. Armstrong having anything more to do with the case. "

"Perhaps you are right, Jane, " said the colonel. "I fear you are. But howcan I ask Dr. Wade to resume his attendance?"

Always nervous about Adela, his sister-in-law had at length succeeded infrightening him. 

"Leave that to me, " she said; "I will manage him. "

"Pooh!" said I, rudely. "He will jump at it. It will be a grand triumphfor him. I only want you to mind what you are about. You know Adela doesnot like Dr. Wade. "

"And she does like _Doctor_ Armstrong?" said Mrs. Cathcart, stuffing eachword with significance. 

"Yes, " I answered, boldly. "Who would not prefer the one to the other?"

But her arrow had struck. The colonel rose, and saying only, "Well, Jane, I leave the affair in your hands, " walked out of the room. I was cowardenough to follow him. Had it been of any use, coward as I was, I wouldhave remained. 

But Mrs. Cathcart, if she had not reckoned without her host, had, atleast, reckoned without her hostess. She wrote instantly to Dr. Wade, interms of which it is enough to say that they were successful, for theybrought the doctor at once. I saw him pass through the hall, lookingawfully stiff, important, and condescending. Beeves, who had openedthe door to him, gave me a very queer look as he showed him into thedrawing-room, ringing, at the same time, for Adela's maid. 

Now Mrs. Cathcart had not expected that the doctor would arrive so soon, and had, as yet, been unable to make up her mind how to communicate to thepatient the news of the change in the physical ministry. So when the maidbrought the message, all that her cunning could provide her with at themoment was the pretence, that he had called so opportunely by chance. 

"Ask him to walk up, " she said, after just one moment's hesitation. 

Adela heard the direction her aunt gave, through the cold shiver which wasthen obliterating rather than engrossing her attention, and concluded thatthey had sent for Mr. Armstrong. But Mrs. Cathcart, turning towards her, said--

"Adela, my love, Dr. Wade had just called; and I have asked him to step upstairs. "

The patient started up. 

"Aunt, what do you mean? If that old wife comes into this room, I willmake him glad to go out of it!"

You see she was feverish, poor child, else I am sure she could not havebeen so rude to her aunt. But before Mrs. Cathcart could reply, in cameDr. Wade. He walked right up to the bed, after a stately obeisance to thelady attendant. 

"I am sorry to find you so ill, Miss Cathcart. "

"I am perfectly well, Dr. Wade. I am sorry you have had the trouble ofwalking up stairs. "

As she said this, she rang the bell at the head of her bed. Her maid, whohad been listening at the door, entered at once. --I had all this fromAdela herself afterwards. 

"Emma, bring me my desk. Dr. Wade, there must be some mistake. It was myaunt, Mrs. Cathcart, who sent for you. Had she given me the opportunity, Iwould have begged that the interview might take place in her room insteadof mine. "

Dr. Wade retreated towards the fireplace, where Mrs. Cathcart stood, quiteaware that she had got herself into a mess of no ordinary complication. Yet she persisted in her cunning. She lifted her finger to her forehead. 

"Ah?" said Dr. Wade. 

"Yes, " said Mrs. Cathcart. 

"Wandering?"

"Dreadfully. "

After some more whispering, the doctor sat down to write a prescription. But meantime, Adela was busy writing another. What she wrote was preciselyto this effect--

"Dear Mr. Armstrong, "I have caught a bad cold, and my aunt has let loose Dr. Wade upon me. Please come directly, if you will save me from ever so much nastymedicine, at the least. My aunt is not my mother, thank heaven! though shewould gladly usurp that relationship. 

"Yours most truly, "Adela Cathcart. "

She folded and sealed the note--sealed it carefully--and gave it to Emma, who vanished with it, followed instantly by Mrs. Cathcart. As to what tookplace outside the door--shall I confess it?--Beeves is my informant. 

"Where are you going, Emma? Emma, come here directly, " said Mrs. Cathcart. 

Emma obeyed. 

"I am going a message for mis'ess. "

"Who is that note for?"

"I didn't ask. John can read well enough. "

"Show it me. "

Emma, I presume, closed both lips and hand very tight. "I command you. "

"Miss Cathcart pays me my wages, ma'am, " said Emma, and turning, speddown-stairs like a carrier-pigeon. 

In the hall she met Beeves, and told him the story. 

"There she comes!" cried he. "Give me the letter. I'll take it myself. "

"You're not going without your hat, surely, Mr. Beeves, " said Emma. 

"Bless me! It's down-stairs. There's master's old one! He'll never want itagain. And if he does, it'll be none the worse. "

And he was out of the door in a moment. Beeves's alarm, however, as toMrs. Cathcart's approach, was a false one. She returned into the sickchamber, with a face fiery red, and found Dr. Wade just finishing anelaborate prescription. 

"There!" said he, rising. "Send for that at once, and let it be takendirectly. Good morning. "

He left the room instantly, making signs that he was afraid of excitinghis patient, as she did not appear to approve of his presence. 

"What is the prescription?" said Adela, quite quietly, as Mrs. Cathcartapproached the bed, apparently trying to decipher it. 

"I am glad to see you so much calmer, my dear. You must not exciteyourself. The prescription?--I cannot make it out. Doctors do write sobadly. I suppose they consider it professional. "

"They consider a good many things professional which are only stupid. Letme see it. "

Mrs. Cathcart, thrown off her guard, gave it to her. Adela tore it infragments, and threw it in a little storm on the floor. 

"Adela!" screamed Mrs. Cathcart. "What is to be done?"

"Pay Dr. Wade his fee, and tell him I shall never be too ill to refuse hismedicines. Now, aunt! You find I am determined. --I declare you make mebehave so ill that I am ashamed of myself. "

Here the poor impertinent child crept under the clothes, and fella-weeping bitterly. Mrs. Cathcart had sense enough to see that nothingcould be done, and retired to her room. Getting weary of her own societyafter a few moments of solitude, she proceeded to go down-stairs. Buthalf-way down, she was met full in the face by Harry Armstrong ascendingtwo steps at a time. He had already met Dr. Wade, as he came out of thedining-room, where he had been having an interview with the colonel. Harryhad turned, and held out his hand with a "How do you do, Dr. Wade?" Butthat gentleman had bowed with the utmost stiffness, and kept his hand athome. 

"So it is to be open war and mutual slander, is it, Dr. Wade?" said Harry. "In that case, I want to know how you come to interfere with my patient. Ihave had no dismissal, which punctilio I took care to know was observed inyour case. "

"Sir, I was sent for, " said Dr. Wade, haughtily. 

"I have in my pocket a note from the lady of this house, requesting myimmediate attendance. If you have received a request to the same purportfrom a visitor, you obey it at your own risk. Good morning. "

Then Harry walked quietly up the first half of the stair, while Beeveshastened to open the door to the crest-fallen Dr. Wade; but by the time hemet Mrs. Cathcart, his rate of ascent had considerably increased. As soonas she saw him, however, without paying any attention to the usualformality of a greeting, she turned and re-entered her niece's room. Hereyes were flashing, and her face spotted red and white with helpless rage. But she would not abandon the field. Harry bowed to her, and passed on tothe bed, where he was greeted with a smile. 

"There's not much the matter, I hope?" he said, returning the smile. 

"It may suit you to make light of my niece's illness, Mr. Armstrong; but Ibeg to inform you that her father thought it serious enough to send forDr. Wade. He has been here already, and your attendance is quitesuperfluous. "

"No doubt; no doubt. But as I am here, I may as well prescribe. "

"Dr. Wade has already prescribed. "

"And I have taken his prescription, have I not, aunt?--and destroyed it, Mr. Armstrong, instead of my own chance. "

"Of what?" said Mrs. Cathcart, with vulgar significance. 

"Of getting rid of two officious old women at once, " said Adela--in arage, I fear I must confess, as the only excuse for impertinence. 

"Come, come, " said Harry, "this won't do. I cannot have my patient excitedin this way. Miss Cathcart, may I ring for your maid?"

For answer, Adela rang the bell herself. Her aunt was pretending to lookout of the window. 

"Will you go and ask your master, " said Harry, when Emma made herappearance, "to be so kind as come here for a moment?"

The poor colonel--an excellent soldier, a severe master, with the highestnotions of authority and obedience, found himself degraded by his ownconduct, as other autocrats have proved before, into a temporizingincapable. It was the more humiliating that he was quite aware in his ownhonest heart that it was jealousy of Harry that had brought him into thispainful position. But he obeyed the summons at once; for wherever therewas anything unpleasant to be done, there, with him, duty assumed thesterner command. As soon as he entered the room, Harry, without givingtime for anyone else to determine the course of the conference, said:

"There has been some mistake, Colonel Cathcart, between Dr. Wade andmyself, which has already done Miss Cathcart no good. As I find her veryfeverish, though not by any means alarmingly ill, I must, as her medicalattendant, insist that _no_ one come into her room but yourself or hermaid. "

Every one present perfectly understood this; and however, in othercircumstances, the colonel might have resented the tone of authority withwhich Harry spoke, he was compelled, for his daughter's sake, to yield;and he afterwards justified Harry entirely. Mrs. Cathcart walked out ofthe room with her neck invisible from behind. The colonel sat down by thefire. Harry wrote his prescription on the half sheet from which Dr. Wadehad torn his; and then saying that he would call in the evening, took hisleave of the colonel, and bowed to his patient, receiving a glance ofacknowledgment which could not fail to generate the feeling that there wasa secret understanding between them, and that he had done just what shewanted. He mounted his roan horse, called Rhubarb, with a certain elationof being, which he tried to hide from everyone but himself. 

When doctors forget that their patients are more like musical instrumentsthan machines, they will soon need to be reminded that they are men andwomen, and not dogs or horses. Yet, alas for the poor dogs and horses thatfall into the hands of a man without a human sympathy even with them! I, John Smith, bless you, my doctor-friends, that ye are not doctors merely, but good and loving men; and, in virtue thereof, so much the more--soexceedingly the more _Therapeutae_. 

I need not follow the course of the fever. Each day the arrival of thecold fit was longer delayed, and the violence of both diminished, untilthey disappeared altogether. But a day or two before this happy result wascompleted, Adela had been allowed to go down to the drawing-room, and haddelighted her father with her cheerfulness and hopefulness. It reallyseemed as if the ague had carried off the last remnants of the illnessunder which she had been so long labouring. But then, you can never putanything to the _experimentum crucis_; and there were other causes at workfor Adela's cure, which were perhaps more powerful than even the ague. However this may have been, she got almost quite well in a very shortspace of time; and with her father's consent, issued invitations toanother meeting of the story-club. They were at once satisfactorilyresponded to. 

CHAPTER V. 

PERCY. 

By this time Percy had returned to London. His mother remained; but theterms understood between her niece and herself were those of icypoliteness and reserve. I learned afterwards that something of anunderstanding had also been arrived at between Percy and Harry; ever sincelearning the particulars of which, I have liked the young rascal a greatdeal better. So I will trouble my reader to take an interest in my reportof the affair. 

Percy met Harry at the gate, after one of his professional visits, andaccosted him thus:

"Mr. Armstrong, my mother says you have been rude to her. "

"I am not in the least aware of it, Mr. Percy. "

"Oh! I don't care much. She is provoking. Besides, she can take care ofherself. That's not it. "

"What is it, then?"

"What do you mean about Adela?"

"I have said nothing more than that she has had a sharp attack ofintermittent fever, which is going off. "

"Come, come--you know what I mean. "

"I may suspect, but I don't choose to answer hints, the meaning of which I_only_ suspect. I might make a fool of myself. "

"Well, I'll be plain. Are you in love with her?"

"Suppose I were, you are not the first to whom I should think it necessaryto confess. "

"Well, are you paying your addresses to her?"

"I am sorry I cannot consent to make my answers as frank as yourquestions. You have the advantage of me in straightforwardness, I confess. Only you have got sun and wind of me both. "

"Come, come--I hate dodging. "

"I daresay you do. But just let me shift round a bit, and see what youwill do then. --Are _you in love with Miss Cathcart?"

"Yes. "

"Upon my word, I shouldn't have thought it. Here have we been allpositively conspiring to do her good, and you have been paying ten timesthe attention to the dogs and horses that you have paid to her. "

"By Jove! it's quite true. But I couldn't somehow. "

"Then she hasn't encouraged you?"

"By Jupiter! you are frank enough now. --No, damn it--not a bit. --But sheused to like me, and she would again, if you would let her alone. "

"Now, Mr. Percy, I'll tell you what. --I don't believe you are a bit inlove with her. "

"She's devilish pretty. "

"Well?"

"And I declare I think she got prettier and prettier every day till thiscursed ague took her. --Your fault too, my mother says. "

"We'll leave your mother out of the question now, if you please. Do youknow what made her look prettier and prettier--for you are quite rightabout that?"

"No. I suppose you were giving her arsenic. "

"No. I was giving her the true _elixir vitae_, unknown even to theRosicrucians. "

Percy stared. 

"I will explain myself. Her friend, Mr. Smith--"

"Old fogie!"

"Old bachelor--yes. --Mr. Smith and I agreed that she was dying of ennui;and so we got up this story-club, and got my brother and the rest to beara hand in it. It did her all the good the most sanguine of us could havehoped for. "

"I thought it horrid slow. "

"I am surprised at that, for you were generally asleep. "

"I was forced, in self-defence. I couldn't smoke. "

"It gave her something to think about. "

"So it seems. "

"Now, Mr. Percy, how could you think you had the smallest chance with her, when here was the first one and then another turning each the flash of hisown mental prism upon her weary eyes, and healing them with light; whileyou would not take the smallest trouble to gratify her, or even to showyourself to anything like advantage?--My dear fellow, what a fool youare!"

"Mr. Armstrong!"

"Come, come--you began with frankness, and I've only gone on with it. Youare a good-hearted fellow, and ought to be made something of. "

"At all events, you make something of yourself, to talk of your ownproductions as the elixir _vitae_. "

"You forget that I am in disgrace as well as yourself on that score; for Ihave not read a word of my own since the club began. "

"Then how the devil should I be worse off than you?"

"I didn't say you were. I only said you did your best to place yourself ata disadvantage. I at least took a part in the affair, although a veryhumble one. But depend upon it, a girl like Miss Cathcart thinks more ofmental gifts, than of any outward advantages which a man may possess; andin the company of those who _think_, a fellow's good looks don't go formuch. She could not help measuring you by those other men--and women too. But you may console yourself with the reflection that there are plenty ofgirls, and pretty ones too, of a very different way of judging; and for mypart you are welcome to the pick of them. "

"You mean to say that I sha'n't have Addie?"

"Not in the least. But, come now--do you think yourself worthy of a girllike that?"

"No. Do you?"

"No. But I should not feel such a hypocrite if she thought me worthy, asto give her up on that ground. "

"Then what _do_ you mean?"

"To win her, if I can. "

"Whew!"

"But if you are a gentleman, you will let me say so myself, and not betraymy secret. "

"Damned if I do! Good luck to you! There's my hand. I believe you're agood fellow after all. I wish I had seen you ride to hounds. They tell meit's a sight. "

"Thank you heartily. But what are you going to do?"

"Go back to the sweet-flowing Thames, and the dreams of the desk. "

"Well--be a man as well as a gentleman. Don't be a fool. "

"Hang it all! I believe it was her money, after all, I was in love with. Good-bye!"

But the poor fellow looked grave enough as he went away. And I trust that, before long, he, too, began to reap some of the good corn that grows onthe wintry fields of disappointment. --I have my eye upon him; but it islittle an _old fogie_ like me can do with a fellow like Percy. 

CHAPTER VI

THE CRUEL PAINTER. 

Now to return to the Story-Club. 

On the night appointed, we met. And to the delight of all the rest of us, Harry arrived with a look that satisfied us that he was to be no defaulterthis time. The look was one of almost nervous uneasiness. Of course thissprung from anxiety to please Adela--at least, so I interpreted it. Sheoccupied her old place on the couch; we all arranged ourselves nearly asbefore; and the fire was burning very bright. Before he began, however, Harry, turning to our host, said:

"May I arrange the scene as I please, for the right effect of my story?"

"Certainly, " answered the colonel. 

Harry rose, and extinguished the lamp. 

"But, my dear sir, " said the colonel, "how can you read now?"

"Perfectly, by the firelight, " answered Harry. 

He then went to the windows, and drawing aside the curtains, drew up theblinds. 

It was full high moon, and the light so clear that, notwithstanding thebrightness of the fire, each window seemed to lie in ghostly shimmer onthe floor. Not a breath of wind was abroad. The whole country beingcovered with snow, the air was filled with a snowy light. On one side rosethe high roof of another part of the house, on which the snow was lyingthick and smooth, undisturbed save by the footprints, visible in the moon, of a large black cat, which had now paused in the middle of it, and waslooking round suspiciously towards the source of the light which hadsurprised him in his midnight walk. 

"Now, " said Harry, returning to his seat, and putting on an air ofconfidence to conceal the lack of it, "let any one who has nerves retireat once, both for his own sake and that of the company! This is just sucha night as I wanted to read my story in--snow--stillness--moonlightoutside, and nothing but firelight inside. Mind, Ralph, you keep up thefire, for the room will be more ready to get cold now the coverings areoff the windows. --You will say at once if you feel it cold, MissCathcart?"

Adela promised; and Harry, who had his manuscript gummed together in acontinuous roll, so that he might not have to turn over any leaves, beganat once:

"THE CRUEL PAINTER. 

"Among the young men assembled at the University of Prague, in the year159--, was one called Karl von Wolkenlicht. A somewhat careless student, he yet held a fair position in the estimation of both professors and men, because he could hardly look at a proposition without understanding it. Where such proposition, however, had to do with anything relating to thedeeper insights of the nature, he was quite content that, for him, itshould remain a proposition; which, however, he laid up in one of hismental cabinets, and was ready to reproduce at a moment's notice. Thismental agility was more than matched by the corresponding corporealexcellence, and both aided in producing results in which his remarkablestrength was equally apparent. In all games depending upon the combinationof muscle and skill, he had scarce rivalry enough to keep him in practice. His strength, however, was embodied in such a softness of muscularoutline, such a rare Greek-like style of beauty, and associated with sucha gentleness of manner and behaviour, that, partly from the truth of theresemblance, partly from the absurdity of the contrast, he was knownthroughout the university by the diminutive of the feminine form of hisname, and was always called Lottchen. 

"'I say, Lottchen, ' said one of his fellow-students, called Richter, across the table in a wine-cellar they were in the habit of frequenting, 'do you know, Heinrich Höllenrachen here says that he saw this morning, with mortal eyes, whom do you think?--Lilith. '

"'Adam's first wife?' asked Lottchen, with an attempt at carelessness, while his face flushed like a maiden's. 

"'None of your chaff!'said Richter. 'Your face is honester than yourtongue, and confesses what you cannot deny, that you would give yourchance of salvation--a small one to be sure, but all you've got--for onepeep at Lilith. Wouldn't you now, Lottchen?'

"'Go to the devil!' was all Lottchen's answer to his tormentor; but heturned to Heinrich, to whom the students had given the surname abovementioned, because of the enormous width of his jaws, and said witheagerness and envy, disguising them as well as he could, under theappearance of curiosity:

"'You don't mean it, Heinrich? You've been taking the beggar in! Confessnow. '

"'Not I. I saw her with my two eyes. '

"'Notwithstanding the different planes of their orbits, ' suggestedRichter. 

"'Yes, notwithstanding the fact that I can get a parallax to any of thefixed stars in a moment, with only the breadth of my nose for the base, 'answered Heinrich, responding at once to the fun, and careless of thepersonal defect insinuated. 'She was near enough for even me to see herperfectly. '

"'When? Where? How?' asked Lottchen. 

"'Two hours ago. In the churchyard of St. Stephen's. By a lucky chance. Any more little questions, my child?' answered Höllenrachen. 

"'What could have taken her there, who is seen nowhere?' said Richter. 

"She was seated on a grave. After she left, I went to the place; but itwas a new-made grave. There was no stone up. I asked the sexton about her. He said he supposed she was the daughter of the woman buried there lastThursday week. I knew it was Lilith. '

"'Her mother dead!' said Lottchen, musingly. Then he thought withhimself--'She will be going there again, then!' But he took care that thisghost-thought should wander unembodied. 'But how did you know her, Heinrich? You never saw her before. '

"'How do you come to be over head and ears in love with her, Lottchen, andyou haven't seen her at all?' interposed Richter. 

"'Will you or will you not go to the devil?' rejoined Lottchen, with acomic crescendo; to which the other replied with a laugh. 

"'No one could miss knowing her, ' said Heinrich. 

"'Is she so very like, then?'

"'It is always herself, her very self. '

"A fresh flask of wine, turning out to be not up to the mark, brought thecurrent of conversation against itself; not much to the dissatisfaction ofLottchen, who had already resolved to be in the churchyard of St. Stephen's at sun-down the following day, in the hope that he too might befavoured with a vision of Lilith. 

"This resolution he carried out. Seated in a porch of the church, notknowing in what direction to look for the apparition he hoped to see, anddesirous as well of not seeming to be on the watch for one, he was gazingat the fallen rose-leaves of the sunset, withering away upon the sky;when, glancing aside by an involuntary movement, he saw a woman seatedupon a new-made grave, not many yards from where he sat, with her faceburied in her hands, and apparently weeping bitterly. Karl was in theshadow of the porch, and could see her perfectly, without much danger ofbeing discovered by her; so he sat and watched her. She raised her headfor a moment, and the rose-flush of the west fell over it, shining on thetears with which it was wet, and giving the whole a bloom which did notbelong to it, for it was always pale, and now pale as death. It was indeedthe face of Lilith, the most celebrated beauty of Prague. 

"Again she buried her face in her hands; and Karl sat with a strangefeeling of helplessness, which grew as he sat; and the longing to help herwhom he could not help, drew his heart towards her with a tremblingreverence which was quite new to him. She wept on. The western roseswithered slowly away, and the clouds blended with the sky, and the starsgathered like drops of glory sinking through the vault of night, and thetrees about the churchyard grew black, and Lilith almost vanished in thewide darkness. At length she lifted her head, and seeing the night aroundher, gave a little broken cry of dismay. The minutes had swept over herhead, not through her mind, and she did not know that the dark had come. 

"Hearing her cry, Karl rose and approached her. She heard his footsteps, and started to her feet. Karl spoke--

"'Do not be frightened, ' he said. 'Let me see you home. I will walk behindyou. '

"'Who are you?' she rejoined. 

"'Karl Wolkenlicht. '

"'I have heard of you. Thank you. I can go home alone. '

"Yet, as if in a half-dreamy, half-unconscious mood, she accepted hisoffered hand to lead her through the graves, and allowed him to walkbeside her, till, reaching the corner of a narrow street, she suddenlybade him good-night and vanished. He thought it better not to follow her, so he returned her good-night and went home. 

"How to see her again was his first thought the next day; as, in fact, howto see her at all had been his first thought for many days. She wentnowhere that ever he heard of; she knew nobody that he knew; she was neverseen at church, or at market; never seen in the street. Her home had adreary, desolate aspect. It looked as if no one ever went out or in. Itwas like a place on which decay had fallen because there was no indwellingspirit. The mud of years was baked upon its door, and no faces looked outof its dusty windows. 

"How then could she be the most celebrated beauty of Prague? How then wasit that Heinrich Höllenrachen knew her the moment he saw her? Above all, how was it that Karl Wolkenlicht had, in fact, fallen in love with herbefore ever he saw her? It was thus--

"Her father was a painter. Belonging thus to the public, it had taken theliberty of re-naming him. Every one called him Teufelsbürst, orDevilsbrush. It was a name with which, to judge from the nature of hisrepresentations, he could hardly fail to be pleased. For, not as anightmare dream, which may alternate with the loveliest visions, but ashis ordinary everyday work, he delighted to represent human suffering. 

"Not an aspect of human woe or torture, as expressed in countenance orlimb, came before his willing imagination, but he bore it straightway tohis easel. In the moments that precede sleep, when the black spacebefore the eyes of the poet teems with lovely faces, or dawns into aspirit-landscape, face after face of suffering, in all varieties ofexpression, would crowd, as if compelled by the accompanying fiends, topresent themselves, in awful levée, before the inner eye of the expectantmaster. Then he would rise, light his lamp, and, with rapid hand, makenotes of his visions; recording, with swift successive sweeps of hispencil, every individual face which had rejoiced his evil fancy. Then hewould return to his couch, and, well satisfied, fall asleep to dream yetfurther embodiments of human ill. 

"What wrong could man or mankind have done him, to be thus fearfullypursued by the vengeance of the artist's hate?

"Another characteristic of the faces and form which he drew was, that theywere all beautiful in the original idea. The lines of each face, howeverdistorted by pain, would have been, in rest, absolutely beautiful; and thewhole of the execution bore witness to the fact that upon this originalbeauty the painter had directed the artillery of anguish to bring down thesky-soaring heights of its divinity to the level of a hated existence. Todo this, he worked in perfect accordance with artistic law, falsifying noline of the original forms. It was the suffering, rather than his pencil, that wrought the change. The latter was the willing instrument to recordwhat the imagination conceived with a cruelty composed enough to becorrect. 

"To enhance the beauty he had thus distorted, and so to enhance yetfurther the suffering that produced the distortion, he would oftenrepresent attendant demons, whom he made as ugly as his imagination couldcompass; avoiding, however, all grotesqueness beyond what was sufficientto indicate that they were demons, and not men. Their ugliness rose fromhate, envy, and all evil passions; amongst which he especially delightedto represent a gloating exultation over human distress. And often in themidst of his clouds of demon faces, would some one who knew him recognisethe painter's own likeness, such as the mirror might have presented it tohim when he was busiest over the incarnation of some exquisite torture. 

"But apparently with the wish to avoid being supposed to choose suchrepresentations for their own sakes, he always found a story, often in thehistories of the church, whose name he gave to the painting, and which hepretended to have inspired the pictorial conception. No one, however, wholooked upon his suffering martyrs, could suppose for a moment that hehonoured their martyrdom. They were but the vehicles for his hate ofhumanity. He was the torturer, and not Diocletian or Nero. 

"But, stranger yet to tell, there was no picture, whatever its subject, into which he did not introduce one form of placid and harmoniousloveliness. In this, however, his fierceness was only more fullydisplayed. For in no case did this form manifest any relation either tothe actors or the endurers in the picture. Hence its very lovelinessbecame almost hateful to those who beheld it. Not a shade crossed thestill sky of that brow, not a ripple disturbed the still sea of thatcheek. She did not hate, she did not love the sufferers: the painter wouldnot have her hate, for that would be to the injury of her loveliness:would not have her love, for he hated. Sometimes she floated above, as astill, unobservant angel, her gaze turned upward, dreaming along, carelessas a white summer cloud, across the blue. If she looked down on the scenebelow, it was only that the beholder might see that she saw and did notcare--that not a feather of her outspread pinions would quiver at thesight. Sometimes she would stand in the crowd, as if she had been copiedthere from another picture, and had nothing to do with this one, nor anyright to be in it at all. Or when the red blood was trickling drop by dropfrom the crushed limb, she might be seen standing nearest, smiling over aprimrose or the bloom on a peach. Some had said that she was the painter'swife; that she had been false to him; that he had killed her; and, findingthat that was no sufficing revenge, thus half in love, and half in deepesthate, immortalized his vengeance. But it was now universally understoodthat it was his daughter, of whose loveliness extravagant reports wentabroad; though all said, doubtless reading this from her father'spictures, that she was a beauty without a heart. Strange theories ofsomething else supplying its place were rife among the anatomicalstudents. With the girl in the pictures, the wild imagination of Lottchen, probably in part from her apparently absolute unattainableness and herundisputed heartlessness, had fallen in love, as far as the mereimagination can fall in love. 

"But again, how was he to see her? He haunted the house night after night. Those blue eyes never met his. No step responsive to his came from thatdoor. It seemed to have been so long unopened that it had grown as fixedand hard as the stones that held its bolts in their passive clasp. Hedared not watch in the daytime, and with all his watching at night, henever saw father or daughter or domestic cross the threshold. Little hethought that, from a shot-window near the door, a pair of blue eyes, likeLilith's, but paler and colder, were watching him just as a spider watchesthe fly that is likely ere long to fall into his toils. And into thosetoils Karl soon fell. For her form darkened the page; her form stood onthe threshold of sleep; and when, overcome with watching, he did enter itsprecincts, her form entered with him, and walked by his side. He must findher; or the world might go to the bottomless pit for him. But how?

"Yes. He would be a painter. Teufelsbürst would receive him as a humbleapprentice. He would grind his colours, and Teufelsbürst would teach himthe mysteries of the science which is the handmaiden of art. Then he mightsee _her_, and that was all his ambition. 

"In the clear morning light of a day in autumn, when the leaves werebeginning to fall seared from the hand of that Death which has his dancein the chapels of nature as well as in the cathedral aisles of men--hewalked up and knocked at the dingy door. The spider painter opened ithimself. He was a little man, meagre and pallid, with those faded blueeyes, a low nose in three distinct divisions, and thin, curveless, cruellips. He wore no hair on his face; but long grey locks, long as a woman's, were scattered over his shoulders, and hung down on his breast. WhenWolkenlicht had explained his errand, he smiled a smile in which hypocrisycould not hide the cunning, and, after many difficulties, consented toreceive him as a pupil, on condition that he would become an inmate of hishouse. Wolkenlicht's heart bounded with delight, which he tried to hide:the second smile of Teufelsbürst might have shown him that he had illsucceeded. The fact that he was not a native of Prague, but coming from adistant part of the country, was entirely his own master in the city, rendered this condition perfectly easy to fulfil; and that very afternoonhe entered the studio of Teufelsbürst as his scholar and servant. 

"It was a great room, filled with the appliances and results of art. Manypictures, festooned with cobwebs, were hung carelessly on the dirty walls. Others, half finished, leaned against them, on the floor. Several, indifferent stages of progress, stood upon easels. But all spoke the cruelbent of the artist's genius. In one corner a lay figure was extended on acouch, covered with a pall of black velvet. Through its folds, the formbeneath was easily discernible; and one hand and forearm protruded frombeneath it, at right angles to the rest of the frame. Lottchen could nothelp shuddering when he saw it. Although he overcame the feeling in amoment, he felt a great repugnance to seating himself with his backtowards it, as the arrangement of an easel, at which Teufelsbürst wishedhim to draw, rendered necessary. He contrived to edge himself round, sothat when he lifted his eyes he should see the figure, and be sure that itcould not rise without his being aware of it. But his master saw andunderstood his altered position; and under some pretence about the light, compelled him to resume the position in which he had placed him at first;after which he sat watching, over the top of his picture, the expressionof his countenance as he tried to draw; reading in it the horrid fancythat the figure under the pall had risen, and was stealthily approachingto look over his shoulder. But Lottchen resisted the feeling, and, beingalready no contemptible draughtsman, was soon interested enough to forgetit. And then, any moment _she_ might enter. 

"Now began a system of slow torture, for the chance of which the painterhad been long on the watch--especially since he had first seen Karllingering about the house. His opportunities of seeing physical sufferingwere nearly enough even for the diseased necessities of his art; but nowhe had one in his power, on whom, his own will fettering him, he could tryany experiments he pleased for the production of a kind of suffering, inthe observation of which he did not consider that he had yet sufficientexperience. He would hold the very heart of the youth in his hand, andwring it and torture it to his own content. And lest Karl should be strongenough to prevent those expressions of pain for which he lay on the watch, he would make use of further means, known to himself, and known to fewbesides. 

"All that day Karl saw nothing of Lilith; but he heard her voice once--andthat was enough for one day. The next, she was sitting to her father thegreater part of the day, and he could see her as often as he dared glanceup from his drawing. She had looked at him when she entered, but had shownno sign of recognition; and all day long she took no further notice ofhim. He hoped, at first, that this came of the intelligence of love; buthe soon began to doubt it. For he saw that, with the holy shadow ofsorrow, all that distinguished the expression of her countenance from thatwhich the painter so constantly reproduced, had vanished likewise. It wasthe very face of the unheeding angel whom, as often as he lifted his eyeshigher than hers, he saw on the wall above her, playing on a psaltery inthe smoke of the torment ascending for ever from burning Babylon. --Thepower of the painter had not merely wrought for the representation of thewoman of his imagination; it had had scope as well in realizing her. 

"Karl soon began to see that communication, other than of the eyes, wasall but hopeless; and to any attempt in that way she seemed altogetherindisposed to respond. Nor if she had wished it, would it have been safe;for as often as he glanced towards her, instead of hers, he met the blueeyes of the painter gleaming upon him like winter lightning. His tones, his gestures, his words, seemed kind: his glance and his smile refused tobe disguised. 

"The first day he dined alone in the studio, waited upon by an old woman;the next he was admitted to the family table, with Teufelsbürst andLilith. The room offered a strange contrast to the study. As far ashandicraft, directed by a sumptuous taste, could construct a house-paradise, this was one. But it seemed rather a paradise of demons; for thewalls were covered with Teufelsbürst's paintings. During the dinner, Lilith's gaze scarcely met that of Wolkenlicht; and once or twice, whentheir eyes did meet, her glance was so perfectly unconcerned, that Karlwished he might look at her for ever without the fear of her looking athim again. She seemed like one whose love had rushed out glowing withseraphic fire, to be frozen to death in a more than wintry cold: she nowwalked lonely without her love. In the evenings, he was expected tocontinue his drawing by lamplight; and at night he was conducted byTeufelsbürst to his chamber. Not once did he allow him to proceed thitheralone, and not once did he leave him there without locking and bolting thedoor on the outside. But he felt nothing except the coldness of Lilith. 

"Day after day she sat to her father, in every variety of costume thatcould best show the variety of her beauty. How much greater that beautymight be, if it ever blossomed into a beauty of soul, Wolkenlicht neverimagined; for he soon loved her enough to attribute to her all thepossibilities of her face as actual possessions of her being. To accountfor everything that seemed to contradict this perfection, his brain wasprolific in inventions; till he was compelled at last to see that she wasin the condition of a rose-bud, which, on the point of blossoming, hadbeen chilled into a changeless bud by the cold of an untimely frost. Forone day, after the father and daughter had become a little more accustomedto his silent presence, a conversation began between them, which went onuntil he saw that Teufelsbürst believed in nothing except his art. Howmuch of his feeling for that could be dignified by the name of belief, seeing its objects were such as they were, might have been questioned. Itseemed to Wolkenlicht to amount only to this: that, amidst a thousanddistastes, it was a pleasant thing to reproduce on the canvas the forms hebeheld around him, modifying them to express the prevailing feelings ofhis own mind. 

"A more desolate communication between souls than that which then passedbetween father and daughter could hardly be imagined. The father spoke ofhumanity and all its experiences in a tone of the bitterest scorn. Hedespised men, and himself amongst them; and rejoiced to think that thegenerations rose and vanished, brood after brood, as the crops of corngrew and disappeared. Lilith, who listened to it all unmoved, taking onlyan intellectual interest in the question, remarked that even the corn hadmore life than that; for, after its death, it rose again in the new crop. Whether she meant that the corn was therefore superior to man, forgettingthat the superior can produce being without losing its own, or onlyadvanced an objection to her father's argument, Wolkenlicht could nottell. But Teufelsbürst laughed like the sound of a saw, and said: 'Followout the analogy, my Lilith, and you will see that man is like the cornthat springs again after it is buried; but unfortunately the only resultwe know of is a vampire. '

"Wolkenlicht looked up, and saw a shudder pass through the frame, and overthe pale thin face of the painter. This he could not account for. ButTeufelsbürst could have explained it, for there were strange whispersabroad, and they had reached his ear; and his philosophy was not quiteenough for them. But the laugh with which Lilith met this frightfulattempt at wit, grated dreadfully on Wolkenlicht's feeling. With her, too, however, a reaction seemed to follow. For, turning round a moment after, and looking at the picture on which her father was working, the tears rosein her eyes, and she said: 'Oh! father, how like my mother you have mademe this time!' 'Child!' retorted the painter with a cold fierceness, 'youhave no mother. That which is gone out is gone out. Put no name in myhearing on that which is not. Where no substance is, how can there be aname?'

"Lilith rose and left the room. Wolkenlicht now understood that Lilith wasa frozen bud, and could not blossom into a rose. But pure love lives byfaith. It loves the vaguely beheld and unrealized ideal. It dares believethat the loved is not all that she ever seemed. It is in virtue of thisthat love loves on. And it was in virtue of this, that Wolkenlicht lovedLilith yet more after he discovered what a grave of misery her unbeliefwas digging for her within her own soul. For her sake he would bearanything--bear even with calmness the torments of his own love; he wouldstay on, hoping and hoping. --The text, that we know not what a day maybring forth, is just as true of good things as of evil things; and out ofTime's womb the facts must come. 

"But with the birth of this resolution to endure, his suffering abated;his face grew more calm; his love, no less earnest, was less imperious;and he did not look up so often from his work when Lilith was present. Themaster could see that his pupil was more at ease, and that he was makingrapid progress in his art. This did not suit his designs, and he wouldbetake himself to his further schemes. 

"For this purpose he proceeded first to simulate a friendship forWolkenlicht, the manifestations of which he gradually increased, until, after a day or two, he asked him to drink wine with him in the evening. Karl readily agreed. The painter produced some of his best; but took carenot to allow Lilith to taste it; for he had cunningly prepared and mingledwith it a decoction of certain herbs and other ingredients, exercisingspecific actions upon the brain, and tending to the inordinate excitementof those portions of it which are principally under the rule of theimagination. By the reaction of the brain during the operation of thesestimulants, the imagination is filled with suggestions and images. Thenature of these is determined by the prevailing mood of the time. They aresuch as the imagination would produce of itself, but increased in numberand intensity. Teufelsbürst, without philosophizing about it, called hispreparation simply a love-philtre, a concoction well known by name, butthe composition of which was the secret of only a few. Wolkenlicht had, ofcourse, not the least suspicion of the treatment to which he wassubjected. 

"Teufelsbürst was, however, doomed to fresh disappointment. Not that hispotion failed in the anticipated effect, for now Karl's real sufferingsbegan; but that such was the strength of Karl's will, and his fear ofdoing anything that might give a pretext for banishing him from thepresence of Lilith, that he was able to conceal his feelings far toosuccessfully for the satisfaction of Teufelsbürst's art. Yet he had tofetter himself with all the restraints that self-exhortation could loadhim with, to refrain from falling at the feet of Lilith and kissing thehem of her garment. For that, as the lowliest part of all that surroundedher, itself kissing the earth, seemed to come nearest within the reach ofhis ambition, and therefore to draw him the most. 

"No doubt the painter had experience and penetration enough to perceivethat he was suffering intensely; but he wanted to see the sufferingembodied in outward signs, bringing it within the region over which hispencil held sway. He kept on, therefore, trying one thing after another, and rousing the poor youth to agony; till to his other sufferings wereadded, at length, those of failing health; a fact which notified itselfevidently enough even for Teufelsbürst, though its signs were not of thesort he chiefly desired. But Karl endured all bravely. 

"Meantime, for various reasons, he scarcely ever left the house. 

"I must now interrupt the course of my story to introduce another element. 

"A few years before the period of my tale, a certain shoemaker of the cityhad died under circumstances more than suggestive of suicide. He wasburied, however, with such precautions, that six weeks elapsed before therumour of the facts broke out; upon which rumour, not before, the mostfearful reports began to be circulated, supported by what seemed to thepeople of Prague incontestable evidence. --A _spectrum_ of the deceasedappeared to multitudes of persons, playing horrible pranks, andoccasioning indescribable consternation throughout the whole town. Thiswent on till at last, about eight months after his burial, the magistratescaused his body to be dug up; when it was found in just the condition ofthe bodies of those who in the eastern countries of Europe are called_vampires_. They buried the corpse under the gallows; but neither thedigging up nor the re-burying were of avail to banish the spectre. Againthe spade and pick-axe were set to work, and the dead man being foundconsiderably improved in _condition_ since his last interment, was, withvarious horrible indignities, burnt to ashes, 'after which the _spectrum_was never seen more. '

"And a second epidemic of the same nature had broken out a little beforethe period to which I have brought my story. 

"About midnight, after a calm frosty day, for it was now winter, aterrible storm of wind and snow came on. The tempest howled frightfullyabout the house of the painter, and Wolkenlicht found some solace inlistening to the uproar, for his troubled thoughts would not allow him tosleep. It raged on all the next three days, till about noon on the fourthday, when it suddenly fell, and all was calm. The following night, Wolkenlicht, lying awake, heard unaccountable noises in the next house, asof things thrown about, of kicking and fighting horses, and of opening andshutting gates. Flinging wide his lattice and looking out, the noise ofhowling dogs came to him from every quarter of the town. The moon wasbright and the air was still. In a little while he heard the sounds of ahorse going at full gallop round the house, so that it shook as if itwould fall; and flashes of light shone into his room. How much of this mayhave been owing to the effect of the drugs on poor Lottchen's brain, Ileave my readers to determine. But when the family met at breakfast in themorning, Teufelsbürst, who had been already out of doors, reported that hehad found the marks of strange feet in the snow, all about the house andthrough the garden at the back; stating, as his belief, that the tracksmust be continued over the roofs, for there was no passage otherwise. There was a wicked gleam in his eye as he spoke; and Lilith believed thathe was only trying an experiment on Karl's nerves. He persisted that hehad never seen any footprints of the sort before. Karl informed him of hisexperiences during the night; upon which Teufelsbürst looked a littlegraver still, and proceeded to tell them that the storm, whose snow wasstill covering the ground, had arisen the very moment that their next doorneighbour died, and had ceased as suddenly the moment he was buried, though it had raved furiously all the time of the funeral, so that 'itmade men's bodies quake and their teeth chatter in their heads. ' Karl hadheard that the man, whose name was John Kuntz, was dead and buried. Heknew that he had been a very wealthy, and therefore most respectable, alderman of the town; that he had been very fond of horses; and that hehad died in consequence of a kick received from one of his own, as he waslooking at his hoof. But he had not heard that, just before he died, ablack cat 'opened the casement with her nails, ran to his bed, andviolently scratched his face and the bolster, as if she endeavoured byforce to remove him out of the place where he lay. But the cat afterwardswas suddenly gone, and she was no sooner gone, but he breathed his last. '

"So said Teufelsbürst, as the reporter of the town talk. Lilith lookedvery pale and terrified; and it was perhaps owing to this that the painterbrought no more tales home with him. There were plenty to bring, but heheard them all and said nothing. The fact was that the philosopher himselfcould not resist the infection of the fear that was literally raging inthe city; and perhaps the reports that he himself had sold himself to thedevil had sufficient response from his own evil conscience to add to theinfluence of the epidemic upon him. The whole place was infested with thepresence of the dead Kuntz, till scarce a man or woman would dare to bealone. He strangled old men; insulted women; squeezed children to death;knocked out the brains of dogs against the ground; pulled up posts; turnedmilk into blood; nearly killed a worthy clergyman by breathing upon himthe intolerable airs of the grave, cold and malignant and noisome; and, inshort, filled the city with a perfect madness of fear, so that everyreport was believed without the smallest doubt or investigation. 

"Though Teufelsbürst brought home no more of the town talk, the oldservant was a faithful purveyor, and frequented the news-mart assiduously. Indeed she had some nightmare experiences of her own that she was proud toadd to the stock of horrors which the city enjoyed with such a heartycommunity of goods. For those regions were not far removed from thebirthplace and home of the vampire. The belief in vampires is thequintessential concentration and embodiment of all the passion of fear inHungary and the adjacent regions. Nor, of all the other inventions of thehuman imagination, has there ever been one so perfect in crawling terroras this. Lilith and Karl were quite familiar with the popular ideas on thesubject. It did not require to be explained to them, that a vampire was abody retaining a kind of animal life after the soul had departed. If anyrelation existed between it and the vanished ghost, it was only sufficientto make it restless in its grave. Possessed of vitality enough to keep ituncorrupted and pliant, its only instinct was a blind hunger for the solefood which could keep its awful life persistent--living human blood. Henceit, or, if not it, a sort of semi-material exhalation or essence of it, retaining its form and material relations, crept from its tomb, and wentroaming about till it found some one asleep, towards whom it had anattraction, founded on old affection. It sucked the blood of this unhappybeing, transferring so much of its life to itself as a vampire couldassimilate. Death was the certain consequence. If suspicion conjecturedaright, and they opened the proper grave, the body of the vampire would befound perfectly fresh and plump, sometimes indeed of rather floridcomplexion;--with grown hair, eyes half open, and the stains of recentblood about its greedy, leech-like lips. Nothing remained but to consumethe corpse to ashes, upon which the vampire would show itself no more. Butwhat added infinitely to the horror was the certainty that whoever diedfrom the mouth of the vampire, wrinkled grandsire or delicate maiden, mustin turn rise from the grave, and go forth a vampire, to suck the blood ofthe dearest left behind. This was the generation of the vampire brood. Lilith trembled at the very name of the creature. Karl was too much inlove to be afraid of anything. Yet the evident fear of the unbelievingpainter took a hold of his imagination; and, under the influence of thepotions of which he still partook unwittingly, when he was not thinkingabout Lilith, he was thinking about the vampire. 

"Meantime, the condition of things in the painter's household continuedmuch the same for Wolkenlicht--work all day; no communication between theyoung people; the dinner and the wine; silent reading when work was done, with stolen glances many over the top of the book, glances that were neverreturned; the cold good-night; the locking of the door; the wakeful nightand the drowsy morning. But at length a change came, and sooner than anyof the party had expected. For, whether it was that the impatience ofTeufelsbürst had urged him to yet more dangerous experiments, or that thecontinuance of those he had been so long employing had overcome at lengththe vitality of Wolkenlicht--one afternoon, as he was sitting at his work, he suddenly dropped from his chair, and his master hurrying to him in somealarm, found him rigid and apparently lifeless. Lilith was not in thestudy when this took place. In justice to Teufelsbürst, it must beconfessed that he employed all the skill he was master of, which forbeneficent purposes was not very great, to restore the youth; but withoutavail. At last, hearing the footsteps of Lilith, he desisted in someconsternation; and that she might escape being shocked by the sight of adead body where she had been accustomed to see a living one, he removedthe lay figure from the couch, and laid Karl in its place, covering himwith a black velvet pall. He was just in time. She started at seeing noone in Karl's place and said:

"'Where is your pupil, father?'

"'Gone home, ' he answered, with a kind of convulsive grin. 

"She glanced round the room, caught sight of the lay figure where it hadnot been before, looked at the couch, and saw the pall yet heaved up frombeneath, opened her eyes till the entire white sweep around the irissuggested a new expression of consternation to Teufelsbürst, though from aquarter whence he did not desire or look for it; and then, without a word, sat down to a drawing she had been busy upon the day before. But herfather, glancing at her now, as Wolkenlicht had used to do, could not helpseeing that she was frightfully pale. She showed no other sign ofuneasiness. As soon as he released her, she withdrew, with one moreglance, as she passed, at the couch and the figure blocked out in blackupon it. She hastened to her chamber, shut and locked the door, sat downon the side of the couch, and fell, not a-weeping, but a-thinking. Was hedead? What did it matter? They would all be dead soon. Her mother was deadalready. It was only that the earth could not bear more children, exceptshe devoured those to whom she had already given birth. But what if theyhad to come back in another form, and live another sad, hopeless, lovelesslife over again?--And so she went on questioning, and receiving noreplies; while through all her thoughts passed and repassed the eyes ofWolkenlicht, which she had often felt to be upon her when she did not seethem, wild with repressed longing, the light of their love shining throughthe veil of diffused tears, ever gathering and never overflowing. Thencame the pale face, so worshipping, so distant in its self-withdrawndevotion, slowly dawning out of the vapours of her reverie. When itvanished, she tried to see it again. It would not come when she called it;but when her thoughts left knocking at the door of the lost, and wanderedaway, out came the pale, troubled, silent face again, gathering itself upfrom some unknown nook in her world of phantasy, and once more, when shetried to steady it by the fixedness of her own regard, fading back intothe mist. So the phantasm of the dead drew near and wooed, as the livinghad never dared. --What if there were any good in loving? What if men andwomen did not die all out, but some dim shade of each, like that pale, mind-ghost of Wolkenlicht, floated through the eternal vapours of chaos?And what if they might sometimes cross each other's path, meet, know thatthey met, love on? Would not that revive the withered memory, fix thefleeting ghost, give a new habitation, a body even, to the poor, unhousedwanderers, frozen by the eternal frosts, no longer thinking beings, butthoughts wandering through the brain of the 'Melancholy Mass?' Back withthe thought came the face of the dead Karl, and the maiden threw herselfon her bed in a flood of bitter tears. She could have loved him if he hadonly lived: she did love him, for he was dead. But even in the midst ofthe remorse that followed--for had she not killed him?--life seemed a lesshard and hopeless thing than before. For it is love itself and not itsresponses or results that is the soul of life and its pleasures. 

"Two hours passed ere she could again show herself to her father, fromwhom she seemed in some new way divided by the new feeling in which he didnot, and could not share. But at last, lest he should seek her, andfinding her, should suspect her thoughts, she descended and sought him. --For there is a maidenliness in sorrow, that wraps her garments closearound her. --But he was not to be seen; the door of the study was locked. A shudder passed through her as she thought of what her father, who lostno opportunity of furthering his all but perfect acquaintance with thehuman form and structure, might be about with the figure which she knewlay dead beneath that velvet pall, but which had arisen to haunt thehollow caves and cells of her living brain. She rushed away, and up oncemore to her silent room, through the darkness which had now settled downin the house; threw herself again on her bed, and lay almost paralysedwith horror and distress. 

"But Teufelsbürst was not about anything so frightful as she supposed, though something frightful enough. I have already implied that Wolkenlichtwas, in form, as fine an embodiment of youthful manhood as any old Greekrepublic could have provided one of its sculptors with as model for anApollo. It is true, that to the eye of a Greek artist he would not havebeen more acceptable in consequence of the regimen he had been goingthrough for the last few weeks; but the emaciation of Wolkenlicht's frame, and the consequent prominence of the muscles, indicating the pain he hadgone through, were peculiarly attractive to Teufelsbürst. --He was busypreparing to take a cast of the body of his dead pupil, that it might aidto the perfection of his future labours. 

"He was deep in the artistic enjoyment of a form, at the same time sobeautiful and strong, yet with the lines of suffering in every limb andfeature, when his daughter's hand was laid on the latch. He started, flungthe velvet drapery over the body, and went to the door. But Lilith hadvanished. He returned to his labours. The operation took a long time, forhe performed it very carefully. Towards midnight, he had finished encasingthe body in a close-clinging shell of plaster, which, when broken off, andfitted together, would be the matrix to the form of the dead Wolkenlicht. Before leaving it to harden till the morning, he was just proceeding tostrengthen it with an additional layer all over, when a flash oflightning, reflected in all its dazzle from the snow without, almostblinded him. A peal of long-drawn thunder followed; the wind rose; andjust such a storm came on as had risen some time before at the death ofKuntz, whose spectre was still tormenting the city. The gnomes of terror, deep hidden in the caverns of Teufelsbürst's nature, broke out jubilant. With trembling hands he tried to cast the pall over the awful whitechrysalis, --failed, and fled to his chamber. And there lay the studionaked to the eyes of the lightning, with its tortured forms throbbing outof the dark, and quivering, as with life, in the almost continuouspalpitations of the light; while on the couch lay the motionless mass ofwhiteness, gleaming blue in the lightning, almost more terrible in itscrude indications of the human form, than that which it enclosed. It laythere as if dropped from some tree of chaos, haggard with the snows ofeternity--a huge misshapen nut, with a corpse for its kernel. 

"But the lightning would soon have revealed a more terrible sight still, had there been any eyes to behold it. At midnight, while a peal of thunderwas just dying away in the distance, the crust of death flew asunder, rending in all directions; and, pale as his investiture, staring withghastly eyes, the form of Karl started up sitting on the couch. Had he notbeen far beyond ordinary men in strength, he could not thus have rent hissepulchre. Indeed, had Teufelsbürst been able to finish his task by theadditional layer of gypsum which he contemplated, he must have died themoment life revived; although, so long as the trance lasted, neither theexclusion from the air, nor the practical solidification of the walls ofhis chest, could do him any injury. He had lain unconscious throughout theoperations of Teufelsbürst, but now the catalepsy had passed away, possibly under the influence of the electric condition of the atmosphere. Very likely the strength he now put forth was intensified by a convulsivereaction of all the powers of life, as is not infrequently the case insudden awakenings from similar interruptions of vital activity. The comingto himself and the bursting of his case were simultaneous. He sat staringabout him, with, of all his mental faculties, only his imagination awake, from which the thoughts that occupied it when he fell senseless had notyet faded. These thoughts had been compounded of feelings about Lilith, and speculations about the vampire that haunted the neighbourhood; and thefumes of the last drug of which he had partaken, still hovering in hisbrain, combined with these thoughts and fancies to generate the delusionthat he had just broken from the embrace of his coffin, and risen, thelast-born of the vampire race. The sense of unavoidable obligation tofulfil his doom, was yet mingled with a faint flutter of joy, for he knewthat he must go to Lilith. With a deep sigh, he rose, gathered up the pallof black velvet, flung it around him, stepped from the couch, and left thestudy to find her. 

"Meantime, Teufelsbürst had sufficiently recovered to remember that he hadleft the door of the studio unfastened, and that any one entering woulddiscover in what he had been engaged, which, in the case of his gettinginto any difficulty about the death of Karl, would tell powerfully againsthim. He was at the farther end of a long passage, leading from the houseto the studio, on his way to make all secure, when Karl appeared at thedoor, and advanced towards him. The painter, seized with invincibleterror, turned and fled. He reached his room, and fell senseless on thefloor. The phantom held on its way, heedless. 

"Lilith, on gaining her room the second time, had thrown herself on herbed as before, and had wept herself into a troubled slumber. She laydreaming--and dreadful dreams. Suddenly she awoke in one of those peals ofthunder which tormented the high regions of the air, as a storm billowsthe surface of the ocean. She lay awake and listened. As it died away, shethought she heard, mingling with its last muffled murmurs, the sound ofmoaning. She turned her face towards the room in keen terror. But she sawnothing. Another light, long-drawn sigh reached her ear, and at the samemoment a flash of lightning illumined the room. In the corner farthestfrom her bed, she spied a white face, nothing more. She was dumb andmotionless with fear. Utter darkness followed, a darkness that seemed toenter into her very brain. Yet she felt that the face was slowly crossingthe black gulf of the room, and drawing near to where she lay. The nextflash revealed, as it bended over her, the ghastly face of Karl, downwhich flowed fresh tears. The rest of his form was lost in blackness. Lilith did not faint, but it was the very force of her fear that seemed tokeep her alive. It became for the moment the atmosphere of her life. Shelay trembling and staring at the spot in the darkness where she supposedthe face of Karl still to be. But the next flash showed her the face faroff, looking at her through the panes of her lattice-window. 

"For Lottchen, as soon as he saw Lilith, seemed to himself to go through asecond stage of awaking. Her face made him doubt whether he could be avampire after all; for instead of wanting to bite her arm and suck theblood, he all but fell down at her feet in a passion of speechless love. The next moment he became aware that his presence must be at least veryundesirable to her; and in an instant he had reached her window, which heknew looked upon a lower roof that extended between two different parts ofthe house, and before the next flash came, he had stepped through thelattice and closed it behind him. 

"Believing his own room to be attainable from this quarter, he proceededalong the roof in the direction he judged best. The cold winter air bydegrees restored him entirely to his right mind, and he soon comprehendedthe whole of the circumstances in which he found himself. Peeping througha window he was passing, to see whether it belonged to his room, he spiedTeufelsbürst, who, at the very moment, was lifting his head from the faintinto which he had fallen at the first sight of Lottchen. The moon wasshining clear, and in its light the painter saw, to his horror, the paleface staring in at his window. He thought it had been there ever since hehad fainted, and dropped again in a deeper swoon than before. Karl saw himfall, and the truth flashed upon him that the wicked artist took him forwhat he had believed himself to be when first he recovered from histrance--namely, the vampire of the former Karl Wolkenlicht. The moment hecomprehended it, he resolved to keep up the delusion if possible. Meantimehe was innocently preparing a new ingredient for the popular dish ofhorrors to be served at the ordinary of the city the next day. For the oldservant's were not the only eyes that had seen him besides those ofTeufelsbürst. What could be more like a vampire, dragging his pall afterhim, than this apparition of poor, half-frozen Lottchen, crawling acrossthe roof? Karl remembered afterwards that he had heard the dogs howlingawfully in every direction, as he crept along; but this was hardlynecessary to make those who saw him conclude that it was the same phantasmof John Kuntz, which had been infesting the whole city, and especially thehouse next door to the painter's, which had been the dwelling of therespectable alderman who had degenerated into this most disreputable ofmoneyless vagabonds. What added to the consternation of all who heard ofit, was the sickening conviction that the extreme measures which they hadresorted to in order to free the city from the ghoul, beyond which nothingcould be done, had been utterly unavailing, successful as they had provedin every other known case of the kind. For, urged as well by varioushorrid signs about his grave, which not even its close proximity to thealtar could render a place of repose, they had opened it, had found in thebody every peculiarity belonging to a vampire, had pulled it out with thegreatest difficulty on account of a quite supernatural ponderosity; whichrendered the horse which had killed him--a strong animal--all but unableto drag it along, and had at last, after cutting it in pieces, andexpending on the fire two hundred and sixteen great billets, succeeded inconquering its incombustibleness, and reducing it to ashes. Such, atleast, was the story which had reached the painter's household, and wasbelieved by many; and if all this did not compel the perturbed corpse torest, what more could be done?

"When Karl had reached his room, and was dressing himself, the thoughtstruck him that something might be made of the report of the extremeweight of the body of old Kuntz, to favour the continuance of the delusionof Teufelsbürst, although he hardly knew yet to what use he could turnthis delusion. He was convinced that he would have made no progresshowever long he might have remained in his house; and that he would havemore chance of favour with Lilith if he were to meet her in any othercircumstances whatever than those in which he invariably saw her--namely, surrounded by her father's influences, and watched by her father's coldblue eyes. 

"As soon as he was dressed, he crept down to the studio, which was nowquiet enough, the storm being over, and the moon filling it with hersteady shine. In the corner lay in all directions the fragments of themould which his own body had formed and filled. The bag of plaster and thebucket of water which the painter had been using stood beside. Lottchengathered all the pieces together, and then making his way to an outhousewhere he had seen various odds and ends of rubbish lying, chose from theheap as many pieces of old iron and other metal as he could find. To thesehe added a few large stones from the garden. When he had got all into thestudio, he locked the door, and proceeded to fit together the parts of themould, filling up the hollow as he went on with the heaviest things hecould get into it, and solidifying the whole by pouring in plaster; till, having at length completed it, and obliterated, as much as possible, themarks of joining, he left it to harden, with the conviction that now itwould make a considerable impression on Teufelsbürst's imagination, aswell as on his muscular sense. He then left everything else as nearlyundisturbed as he could; and, knowing all the ways of the house, was soonin the street, without leaving any signs of his exit. 

"Karl soon found himself before the house in which his friend Höllenrachenresided. Knowing his studious habits, he had hoped to see his light stillburning, nor was he disappointed. He contrived to bring him to his window, and a moment after, the door was cautiously opened. 

"'Why, Lottchen, where do you come from?'

"'From the grave, Heinrich, or next door to it. '

"'Come in, and tell me all about it. We thought the old painter had made amodel of you, and tortured you to death. '

"'Perhaps you were not far wrong. But get me a horn of ale, for even avampire is thirsty, you know. '

"'A vampire!' exclaimed Heinrich, retreating a pace, and involuntarilyputting himself upon his guard. 

"Karl laughed. 

"'My hand was warm, was it not, old fellow?' he said. Vampires are cold, all but the blood. '

"'What a fool I am!' rejoined Heinrich. 'But you know we have been hearingsuch horrors lately that a fellow may be excused for shuddering a littlewhen a pale-faced apparition tells him at two o'clock in the morning thathe is a vampire, and thirsty, too. '

"Karl told him the whole story; and the mental process of regarding it forthe sake of telling it, revealed to him pretty clearly some of thetreatment of which he had been unconscious at the time. Heinrich was quitesure that his suspicions were correct. And now the question was, what wasto be done next?

"'At all events, ' said Heinrich, 'we must keep you out of the way for sometime. I will represent to my landlady that you are in hiding from enemies, and her heart will rule her tongue. She can let you have a garret-room, Iknow; and I will do as well as I can to bear you company. We shall havetime then to invent some plan of operation. '

"To this proposal Karl agreed with hearty thanks, and soon all wasarranged. The only conclusion they could yet arrive at was, that somehowor other the old demon-painter must be tamed. 

"Meantime, how fared it with Lilith? She too had no doubt that she hadseen the body-ghost of poor Karl, and that the vampire had, according torule, paid her the first visit because he loved her best. This washorrible enough if the vampire were not really the person he represented;but if in any sense it were Karl himself, at least it gave someexpectation of a more prolonged existence than her father had taught herto look for; and if love anything like her mother's still lasted, evenalong with the habits of a vampire, there was something to hope for in thefuture. And then, though he had visited her, he had not, as far as she wasaware, deprived her of a drop of blood. She could not be certain that hehad not bitten her, for she had been in such a strange condition of mindthat she might not have felt it, but she believed that he had restrainedthe impulses of his vampire nature, and had left her, lest he should yetyield to them. She fell fast asleep; and, when morning came, there wasnot, as far as she could judge, one of those triangular leech-likeperforations to be found upon her whole body. Will it be believed that themoment she was satisfied of this, she was seized by a terrible jealousy, lest Karl should have gone and bitten some one else? Most people willwonder that she should not have gone out of her senses at once; but therewas all the difference between a visit from a real vampire and a visitfrom a man she had begun to love, even although she took him for avampire. All the difference does _not_ lie in a name. They were verydifferent causes, and the effects must be very different. 

"When Teufelsbürst came down in the morning, he crept into the studio likea murderer. There lay the awful white block, seeming to his eyes just thesame as he had left it. What was to be done with it? He dared not open it. Mould and model must go together. But whither? If inquiry should be madeafter Wolkenlicht, and this were discovered anywhere on his premises, would it not be enough to bring him at once to the gallows? Therefore itwould be dangerous to bury it in the garden, or in the cellar. 

"'Besides, ' thought he, with a shudder, 'that would be to fix the vampireas a guest for ever. '--And the horrors of the past night rushed back uponhis imagination with renewed intensity. What would it be to have the deadKarl crawling about his house for ever, now inside, now out, now sittingon the stairs, now staring in at the windows?

"He would have dragged it to the bottom of his garden, past which theMoldau flowed, and plunged it into the stream; but then, should thespectre continue to prove troublesome, it would be almost impossible toreach the body so as to destroy it by fire; besides which, he could not doit without assistance, and the probability of discovery. If, however, theapparition should turn out to be no vampire, but only a respectable ghost, they might manage to endure its presence, till it should be weary ofhaunting them. 

"He resolved at last to convey the body for the meantime into a concealedcellar in the house, seeing something must be done before his daughtercame down. Proceeding to remove it, his consternation as greatly increasedwhen he discovered how the body had grown in weight since he had thusdisposed of it, leaving on his mind scarcely a hope that it could turn outnot to be a vampire after all. He could scarcely stir it, and there wasbut one whom he could call to his assistance--the old woman who acted ashis housekeeper and servant. 

"He went to her room, roused her, and told her the whole story. Devoted toher master for many years, and not quite so sensitive to fearfulinfluences as when less experienced in horrors, she showed immediatereadiness to render him assistance. Utterly unable, however, to lift themass between them, they could only drag and push it along; and such a slowtoil was it that there was no time to remove the traces of its track, before Lilith came down and saw a broad white line leading from the doorof the studio down the cellar-stairs. She knew in a moment what it meant;but not a word was uttered about the matter, and the name of KarlWolkenlicht seemed to be entirely forgotten. 

"But how could the affairs of a house go on all the same when every one ofthe household knew that a dead body lay in the cellar?--nay more, that, although it lay still and dead enough all day, it would come half alive atnightfall, and, turning the whole house into a sepulchre by its presence, go creeping about like a cat all over it in the dark--perhaps withphosphorescent eyes? So it was not surprising that the painter abandonedhis studio early, and that the three found themselves together in thegorgeous room formerly described, as soon as twilight began to fall. 

"Already Teufelsbürst had begun to experience a kind of shrinking from thehorrid faces in his own pictures, and to feel disgusted at the abortionsof his own mind. But all that he and the old woman now felt was anincreasing fear as the night drew on, a kind of sickening and paralysingterror. The thing down there would not lie quiet--at least its phantom inthe cellars of their imagination would not. As much as possible, however, they avoided alarming Lilith, who, knowing all they knew, was as silent asthey. But her mind was in a strange state of excitement, partly from thepresence of a new sense of love, the pleasure of which all the atmosphereof grief into which it grew could not totally quench. It comforted hersomehow, as a child may comfort when his father is away. 

"Bedtime came, and no one made a move to go. Without a word spoken on thesubject, the three remained together all night; the elders nodding andslumbering occasionally, and Lilith getting some share of repose on acouch. All night the shape of death might be somewhere about the house;but it did not disturb them. They heard no sound, saw no sight; and whenthe morning dawned, they separated, chilled and stupid, and for the timebeyond fear, to seek repose in their private chambers. There they remainedequally undisturbed. 

"But when the painter approached his easel a few hours after, looking morepale and haggard still than he was wont, from the fears of the night, anew bewilderment took possession of him. He had been busy with a freshembodiment of his favourite subject, into which he had sketched the formof the student as the sufferer. He had represented poor Wolkenlicht asjust beginning to recover from a trance, while a group of surgeons, unaware of the signs of returning life, were absorbed in a minutedissection of one of the limbs. At an open door he had painted Lilithpassing, with her face buried in a bunch of sweet peas. But when he cameto the picture, he found, to his astonishment and terror, that the face ofone of the group was now turned towards that of the victim, regarding hisrevival with demoniac satisfaction, and taking pains to prevent the othersfrom discovering it. The face of this prince of torturers was that ofTeufelsbürst himself. Lilith had altogether vanished, and in her placestood the dim vampire reiteration of the body that lay extended on thetable, staring greedily at the assembled company. With trembling hands thepainter removed the picture from the easel, and turned its face to thewall. 

"Of course this was the work of Lottchen. When he left the house, he tookwith him the key of a small private door, which was so seldom used that, while it remained closed, the key would not be missed, perhaps for manymonths. Watching the windows, he had chosen a safe time to enter, and hadbeen hard at work all night on these alterations. Teufelsbürst attributedthem to the vampire, and left the picture as he found it, not daring toput brush to it again. 

"The next night was passed much after the same fashion. But the fear hadbegun to die away a little in the hearts of the women, who did not knowwhat had taken place in the studio on the previous night. It burrowed, however, with gathered force in the vitals of Teufelsbürst. But this nightlikewise passed in peace; and before it was over, the old woman had takento speculating in her own mind as to the best way of disposing of thebody, seeing it was not at all likely to be troublesome. But when thepainter entered his studio in trepidation the next morning, he found thatthe form of the lovely Lilith was painted out of every picture in theroom. This could not be concealed; and Lilith and the servant became awarethat the studio was the portion of the house in haunting which the vampireleft the rest in peace. 

"Karl recounted all the tricks he had played to his friend Heinrich, whobegged to be allowed to bear him company the following night. To this Karlconsented, thinking it would be considerably more agreeable to have acompanion. So they took a couple of bottles of wine and some provisionswith them, and before midnight found themselves snug in the studio. Theysat very quiet for some time, for they knew that if they were seen, twovampires would not be so terrible as one, and might occasion discovery. But at length Heinrich could bear it no longer. "'I say, Lottchen, let'sgo and look; for your dead body. What has the old beggar done with it?'

"'I think I know. Stop; let me peep out. All right! Come along. '

"With a lamp in his hand, he led the way to the cellars, and aftersearching about a little they discovered it. 

"'It looks horrid enough, ' said Heinrich, 'but think a drop or two of winewould brighten it up a little. '

"So he took a bottle from his pocket, and after they had had a glassapiece, he dropped a third in blots all over the plaster. Being red wine, it had the effect Höllenrachen desired. 

"'When they visit it next, they will know that the vampire can find thefood he prefers, ' said he. 

"In a corner close by the plaster, they found the clothes Karl had worn. 

"'Hillo!' said Heinrich, 'we'll make something of this find. '

"So he carried them with him to the studio. There he got hold of thelay-figure. 

"'What are you about, Heinrich?'

"'Going to make a scarecrow to keep the ravens off old Teufel's pictures, 'answered Heinrich, as he went on dressing the lay-figure in Karl'sclothes. He next seated the creature at an easel with its back to thedoor, so that it should be the first thing the painter should see when heentered. Karl meant to remove this before he went, for it was too comicalto fall in with the rest of his proceedings. But the two sat down to theirsupper, and by the time they had finished the wine, they thought theyshould like to go to bed. So they got up and went home, and Karl forgotthe lay-figure, leaving it in busy motionlessness all night before theeasel. 

"When Teufelsbürst saw it, he turned and fled with a cry that brought hisdaughter to his help. He rushed past her, able only to articulate:

"The vampire! The vampire! Painting!'

"Far more courageous than he, because her conscience was more peaceful, Lilith passed on to the studio. She too recoiled a step or two when shesaw the figure; but with the sight of the back of Karl, as she supposed itto be, came the longing to see the face that was on the other side. So shecrept round and round by the wall, as far off as she could. The figureremained motionless. It was a strange kind of shock that she experiencedwhen she saw the face, disgusting from its inanity. The absurdity nextstruck her; and with the absurdity flashed into her mind the convictionthat this was not the doing of a vampire; for of all creatures under themoon, he could not be expected to be a humorist. A wild hope sprang up inher mind that Karl was not dead. Of this she soon resolved to make herselfsure. 

"She closed the door of the studio; in the strength of her new hopeundressed the figure, put it in its place, concealed the garments--all thework of a few minutes; and then, finding her father just recovering fromthe worst of his fear, told him there was nothing in the studio but whatought to be there, and persuaded him to go and see. He not only saw noone, but found that no further liberties had been taken with his pictures. Reassured, he soon persuaded himself that the spectre in this case hadbeen the offspring of his own terror-haunted brain. But he had no spiritfor painting now. He wandered about the house, himself haunting it like arestless ghost. 

"When night came, Lilith retired to her own room. The waters of fear hadbegun to subside in the house; but the painter and his old attendant didnot yet follow her example. 

"As soon, however, as the house was quite still, Lilith glided noiselesslydown the stairs, went into the studio, where as yet there assuredly was novampire, and concealed herself in a corner. 

"As it would not do for an earnest student like Heinrich to be away fromhis work very often, he had not asked to accompany Lottchen this time. Andindeed Karl himself, a little anxious about the result of the scarecrow, greatly preferred going alone. 

"While she was waiting for what might happen, the conviction grew uponLilith, as she reviewed all the past of the story, that these phenomenawere the work of the real Karl, and of no vampire. In a few moments shewas still more sure of this. Behind the screen where she had taken refuge, hung one of the pictures out of which her portrait had been painted thenight before last. She had taken a lamp with her into the studio, with theintention of extinguishing it the moment she heard any sign of approach;but as the vampire lingered, she began to occupy herself with examiningthe picture beside her. She had not looked at it long, before she wettedthe tip of her forefinger, and began to rub away at the obliteration. Hersuspicions were instantly confirmed: the substance employed was only agummy wash over the paint. The delight she experienced at the discoverythrew her into a mischievous humour. 

"'I will see, ' she said to herself, 'whether I cannot match KarlWolkenlicht at this game. '

"In a closet in the room hung a number of costumes, which Lilith had atdifferent times worn for her father. Among them was a large white drapery, which she easily disposed as a shroud. With the help of some chalk, shesoon made herself ghastly enough, and then placing her lamp on the floorbehind the screen, and setting a chair over it, so that it should throw nolight in any direction, she waited once more for the vampire. Nor had shemuch longer to wait. She soon heard a door move, the sound of which shehardly knew, and then the studio door opened. Her heart beat dreadfully, not with fear lest it should be a vampire after all, but with hope that itwas Karl. To see him once more was too great joy. Would she not make up tohim for all her coldness! But would he care for her now? Perhaps he hadbeen quite cured of his longing for a hard heart like hers. She peeped. Itwas he sure enough, looking as handsome as ever. He was holding his lightto look at her last work, and the expression of his face, even inregarding her handiwork, was enough to let her know that he loved herstill. If she had not seen this, she dared not have shown herself from herhiding-place. Taking the lamp in her hand, she got upon the chair, andlooked over the screen, letting the light shine from below upon her face. She then made a slight noise to attract Karl's attention. He looked up, evidently rather startled, and saw the face of Lilith in the air. He gavea stifled cry threw himself on his knees with his arms stretched towardsher, and moaned--

"'I have killed her! I have killed her!'

"Lilith descended, and approached him noiselessly. He did not move. Shecame close to him and said--

"'Are you Karl Wolkenlicht?'

"His lips moved, but no sound came. 

"'If you are a vampire, and I am a ghost, ' she said--but a low happy laughalone concluded the sentence. 

"Karl sprang to his feet. Lilith's laugh changed into a burst of sobbingand weeping, and in another moment the ghost was in the arms of thevampire. 

"Lilith had no idea how far her father had wronged Karl, and though, fromthinking over the past, he had no doubt that the painter had drugged him, he did not wish to pain her by imparting this conviction. But Lilith wasafraid of a reaction of rage and hatred in her father after the terror wasremoved; and Karl saw that he might thus be deprived of all furtherintercourse with Lilith, and all chance of softening the old man's hearttowards him; while Lilith would not hear of forsaking him who had banishedall the human race but herself. They managed at length to agree upon aplan of operation. 

"The first thing they did was to go to the cellar where the plaster masslay, Karl carrying with him a great axe used for cleaving wood. Lilithshuddered when she saw it, stained as it was with the wine Heinrich hadspilt over it, and almost believed herself the midnight companion of avampire after all, visiting with him the terrible corpse in which he livedall day. But Karl soon reassured her; and a few good blows of the axerevealed a very different core to that which Teufelsbürst supposed to bein it. Karl broke it into pieces, and with Lilith's help, who insisted oncarrying her share, the whole was soon at the bottom of the Moldau andevery trace of its ever having existed removed. Before morning, too, theform of Lilith had dawned anew in every picture. There was no time torestore to its former condition the one Karl had first altered; for in itthe changes were all that they seemed; nor indeed was he capable ofrestoring it in the master's style; but they put it quite out of the way, and hoped that sufficient time might elapse before the painter thought ofit again. 

"When they had done, and Lilith, for all his entreaties, would remain withhim no longer, Karl took his former clothes with him, and having spent therest of the night in his old room, dressed in them in the morning. WhenTeufelsbürst entered his studio next day, there sat Karl, as if nothinghad happened, finishing the drawing on which he had been at work when thefit of insensibility came upon him. The painter started, stared, rubbedhis eyes, thought it was another spectral illusion, and was on the pointof yielding to his terror, when Karl rose, and approached him with asmile. The healthy, sunshiny countenance of Karl, let him be ghost orgoblin, could not fail to produce somewhat of a tranquilizing effect onTeufelsbürst. He took his offered hand mechanically, his countenanceutterly vacant with idiotic bewilderment. Karl said:

"'I was not well, and thought it better to pay a visit to a friend for afew days; but I shall soon make up for lost time, for I am all right now. '

"He sat down at once, taking no notice of his master's behaviour, and wenton with his drawing. Teufelsbürst stood staring at him for some minuteswithout moving, then suddenly turned and left the room. Karl heard himhurrying down the cellar stairs. In a few moments he came up again. Karlstole a glance at him. There he stood in the same spot, no doubt more fullof bewilderment than ever, but it was not possible that his face shouldexpress more. At last he went to his easel, and sat down with a long-drawnsigh as if of relief. But though he sat at his easel, he painted none thatday; and as often as Karl ventured a glance, he saw him still staring athim. The discovery that his pictures were restored to their formercondition aided, no doubt, in leading him to the same conclusion as theother facts, whatever that conclusion might be--probably that he had beenthe sport of some evil power, and had been for the greater part of a weekutterly bewitched. Lilith had taken care to instruct the old woman, withwhom she was all-powerful; and as neither of them showed the smallesttraces of the astonishment which seemed to be slowly vitrifying his ownbrain, he was at last perfectly satisfied that things had been going onall right everywhere but in his inner man; and in this conclusion hecertainly was not far wrong, in more senses than one. But when all wasrestored again to the old routine, it became evident that the peculiardirection of his art in which he had hitherto indulged had ceased tointerest him. The shock had acted chiefly upon that part of his mentalbeing which had been so absorbed. He would sit for hours without doinganything, apparently plunged in meditation. --Several weeks elapsed withoutany change, and both Lilith and Karl were getting dreadfully anxious abouthim. Karl paid him every attention; and the old man, for he now lookedmuch older than before, submitted to receive his services as well as thoseof Lilith. At length, one morning, he said in a slow thoughtful tone:

"'Karl Wolkenlicht, I should like to paint you. '

"'Certainly, sir, ' answered Karl, jumping up, 'where would you like me tosit?'

"So the ice of silence and inactivity was broken, and the painter drew andpainted; and the spring of his art flowed once more; and he made abeautiful portrait of Karl--a portrait without evil or suffering. And assoon as he had finished Karl, he began once more to paint Lilith; and whenhe had painted her, he composed a picture for the very purpose ofintroducing them together; and in this picture there was neither uglinessnor torture, but human feeling and human hope instead. Then Karl knew thathe might speak to him of Lilith; and he spoke, and was heard with a smile. But he did not dare to tell him the truth of the vampire story till oneday that Teufelsbürst was lying on the floor of a room in Karl's ancestralcastle, half smothered in grandchildren; when the only answer it drew fromthe old man was a kind of shuddering laugh and the words--'Don't speak ofit, Karl, my boy!'"

 * * * * *

No one had interrupted Harry. His brother had put a shovelful of coals onthe fire, to keep up the flame; but not a word had been spoken. The coldmoon had shone in at the windows all the time, her light made yet colderby the snowy sheen from the face of the earth; and any horror that thestory could generate had had full freedom to operate on the minds of thelisteners. 

"Well, I'm glad its over, for my part, " said Mrs. Bloomfield. "It made myflesh creep. "

"I do not see any good in founding a story upon a superstition. One knowsit is false, all the time, " said Mrs. Cathcart. 

"But, " said Harry, "all that I have related might have taken place; forthe story is not founded on the superstition itself, but on the belief ofthe people of the time in the superstition. I have merely used this beliefto give the general tone to the story, and sometimes the particularoccasion for events in it, the vampire being a terrible fact to thosetimes. "

"You write, " said the curate, "as if you quoted occasionally from someauthority. "

"The story of John Kuntz, as well as that of the shoemaker, is told byHenry More in his _Antidote against Atheism_. He believed the wholeaffair. His authority is Martin Weinrich, a Silesian doctor. I have onlytaken the liberty of shifting the scene of the _post-mortem_ exploits ofKuntz from a town of Silesia to Prague. "

"Well, Harry, " said his sister-in-law, "if your object was to frighten us, I confess that I for one was tolerably uncomfortable. But I don't knowthat that is a very high aim in story-telling. "

"If that were all--certainly not, " replied Harry, glancing towards Adela, who had not spoken. Nor did she speak yet. But her expression showedplainly enough that it was not the horror of the story that had takenchief hold of her mind. Her face was full of suppressed light, and she wasevidently satisfied--or shall I call it _gratified_?--as well as delightedwith the tale. Something or other in it had touched her not only deeply, but nearly. 

Nothing was said about another meeting--perhaps because, from Adela'sillness, the order had been interrupted, and the present had required aspecial summons. 

The ladies had gone up stairs to put on their bonnets. I had crossed intothe library, which was on the same floor with the drawing-room, to findout if I was right in supposing I had seen some volumes of Henry More'sworks on the shelves--certainly the colonel could never have bought them. Our host, the curate and the schoolmaster had followed me. Harry hadremained behind in the drawing-room. Thinking of something I wanted to sayto him before he went, I left the gentlemen looking over the book-shelves, and went to cross again to the drawing-room. But when I reached the door, there stood at the top of the stair, Adela and Harry. She had evidentlyjust said something warm about the story. I could almost read what she hadsaid still lingering on her face, which was turned up a good deal to lookinto his, so near each other were they standing. Hers had a rosy flush asof sunset over it, while his glowed like the sun rising in a mist. Evidently the pleasures of giving and receiving were in this case nearlyequal. But they were not of long duration; for the moment I appeared, theybade each other a hurried good night, and parted. I, thinking it better topretermit my speech to Harry, retreated into the library, and was glad tothink that no one had seen that conference but myself. Such a conjunctionof planets prefigured, however, not merely warm spring weather, but sultrygloom, and thunderous clouds to follow; and although I was delighted withmy astronomical observation, I could not help growing anxious about theomen. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE CASTLE. 

The next day, as I passed the school-house on my way to call on thecurate, I heard such an uproar that I stopped involuntarily to listen. Isoon satisfied myself that it was only the usual water-spout occasioned onthe ocean of boyhood by the vacuum of the master. As soon as I entered thecurate's study, there stood the missing master, hat in hand. He had notsat down, and would not, hearing all the time, no doubt, in his soul, thefar confusion of his forsaken realm. He had but that moment entered. 

"You come just in the right time, Smith, " said the curate. --We had alreadydropped unnecessary prefixes. --"Here is Mr. Bloomfield come to ask us tospend a final evening with him and Mrs. Bloomfield. And in the name of thewhole company, I have taken upon me to assure him that it will give uspleasure. Am I not right?"

"Undoubtedly, " I replied. "What evening have you fixed upon, Mr. Bloomfield?"

"This day week, " he answered. "Shall I tell you why I put it off so long?"

"If you please. "

"I heard your brother, Mr. Armstrong, say that you were very fond ofparables. Now I have always had a leaning that way myself; and for years Ihave had one in particular glimmering before my mental sight. The ambitionseized me, to write it out for one of our meetings, and so submit it toyour judgment; for, Mr. Armstrong, I am so delighted with your sermons andopinions generally, that I long to let you know that I am not onlyfriendly, but capable of sympathizing with you. But it is only in therough yet, and I want to have plenty of time to act the dutiful bear to myoffspring, and lick it into thorough shape. So if you will come this dayweek, Mrs. Bloomfield and I will be delighted to entertain you in ourhumble fashion. But, bless me! the boys will be all in a heap of confusionworse confounded before I get back to them. I have no business to be awayfrom them at this hour. Good morning, gentlemen. "

And off ran the worthy Neptune, to quell, by the vision of his returninghead, the rebellious waves of boyish impulse. 

"That man will be a great comfort to you, Armstrong, " I said. 

"I know he will. He is a far-seeing, and what is better, a far-feelingman. "

"There is true wealth in him, it seems to me, although it may be of narrowreach in expression, " said I. 

"I think so, quite. He seems to me to be one of those who have never grownrobust because they have laboured in-doors instead of going out to work inthe open air. There is a shrinking delicacy about him when with those whomhe doesn't feel to be of his own kind, which makes him show to adisadvantage. But you should see him amongst his boys to do him justice. "

We were interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Armstrong, who came, aftertheir simple fashion, to tell her husband that dinner was ready. I took myleave. 

In the evening, Mrs. Bloomfield called to invite Adela and the colonel;and the affair was settled for that day week. 

"You're much better, my dear, are you not?" said the worthy woman to myniece. 

"Indeed I am, Mrs. Bloomfield. I could not have believed it possible thatI should be so much better in so short a time--and at this season of theyear too. "

"Mr. Armstrong is a very clever young man, I think; though I can't say Iquite relished that extraordinary story of his. "

"I suppose he is clever, " replied Adela, something demurely as I thought. "I must say I liked the story. "

"Ah, well! Young people, you know, Mr. Smith--But, bless me! I'm sure Ibeg your pardon. I had forgotten you weren't a married man. Of courseyou're one of the young people too, Mr. Smith. "

"I don't think there's much of youth to choose between you and me, Mrs. Bloomfield, " said I, "if I may venture to say so. But I fear I do belongto the young people, if a liking for extravagant stories, so long as theymean well, you know--is to be the test of the classification. I fear Ihave a depraved taste, that way. I don't mean in this particular instance, though, Adela. "

"I hope not, " answered Adela, with a blushing smile, which I, at least, could read, having had not merely the key to it, but the open door andwindow as well, ever since I had seen the two standing together at the topof the stair. 

That night the weather broke. A slow thaw set in; and before many dayswere over, islands of green began to appear amid the "wan water" of thesnow--to use a phrase common in Scotch ballads, though with a differentapplication. The graves in the churchyard lifted up their green altars ofearth, as the first whereon to return thanks for the prophecy of spring;which, surely, if it has force and truth anywhere, speaks loudest to us inthe churchyard. And on Sunday the sun broke out and shone on the greenhillocks, just as good old Mr. Venables was reading the words, "I will notleave you comfortless--I will come to you. "

And the ice vanished from the river, and the dark stream flowed, somewhatsullen, but yet glad at heart, on through the low meadows bordered withpollards, which, poor things, maltreated and mutilated, yet did the bestthey could, and went on growing wildly in all insane shapes--pitifullymingling formality and grotesqueness. 

And the next day the hounds met at Castle Irksham. And that day ColonelCathcart would ride with them. 

For the good man had gathered spirit just as the light grew upon hisdaughter's face. And he was merry like a boy now that the first breath ofspring--for so it seemed, although no doubt plenty of wintriness remainedand would yet show itself--had loosened the hard hold of the frost, whichis the death of Nature. The frost is hard upon old people; and the springis so much the more genial and blessed in its sweet influences on them. Dowe grow old that, in our weakness and loss of physical self-assertion, wemay learn the benignities of the universe--only to be learned firstthrough the feeling of their want?--I do not envy the man who laughs theeast wind to scorn. He can never know the balmy power of its sister of thewest, which is the breath of the Lord, the symbol of the one _genial_strength at the root of all life, resurrection, and growth--commonlycalled the Spirit of God. --Who has not seen, as the infirmities of agegrow upon old men, the haughty, self-reliant spirit that had neglected, ifnot despised the gentle ministrations of love, grow as it were a littlescared, and begin to look about for some kindness; begin to return thewarm pressure of the hand, and to submit to be waited upon by the anxietyof love? Not in weakness alone comes the second childhood upon men, butoften in childlikeness; for in old age as in nature, to quote the song ofthe curate, Old Autumn's fingers Paint in hues of Spring. 

The necessities of the old man prefigure and forerun the dawn of theimmortal childhood. For is not our necessity towards God our highestblessedness--the fair cloud that hangs over the summit of existence? ThankGod, he has made his children so noble and high that they cannot dowithout Him! I believe we are sent into this world just to find this out. 

But to leave my reflections and return to my story--such as it is. Thecolonel mounted me on an old horse of his, "whom, " to quote from SirPhilip Sidney's _Arcadia_, "though he was near twenty years old, hepreferred for a piece of sure service, before a great number of younger. "Now the piece of sure service, in the present instance, was to take careof old John Smith, who was only a middling horseman, though his friend, the colonel, would say that he rode pretty well for a lad. The old horse, in fact, knew not only what he could do, but what I could do, for ourpowers were about equal. He looked well about for the gaps and thenarrow places. From weakness in his forelegs, he had become a capitalbuck-jumper, as I think Cathcart called him, always alighting over a hedgeon his hind legs, instead of his fore ones, which was as much easier forJohn Smith as for Hop o' my Thumb--that was the name of the old horse, hebeing sixteen hands, at least. But I beg my reader's pardon for troublinghim with all this about my horse, for, assuredly, neither he nor I willperform any deed of prowess in his presence. But I have the weakness ofgarrulity in regard to a predilection from the indulgence of whichcircumstances have debarred me. 

At nine o'clock my friend and I started upon hacks for the meet. Now, I amnot going to describe the "harrow and weal away!" with which the soul ofpoor Reynard is hunted out of the world--if, indeed, such a clever wretchcan have a soul. I daresay--I hope, at least, that the argument of thefox-hunter is analogically just, who, being expostulated with on thecruelty of fox-hunting, replied--"Well, you know, the hounds like it; andthe horses like it; and there's no doubt the men like it--and who knowswhether the fox doesn't like it too?" But I would not have introduced thesubject except for the sake of what my reader will find in the course of apage or two, and which assuredly is not fox-hunting. 

We soon found. But just before, a sudden heavy noise, coming apparentlyfrom a considerable distance, made one or two of the company say, withpassing curiosity: "What is that?" It was instantly forgotten, however, assoon as the fox broke cover. He pointed towards Purley-bridge. We hadfollowed for some distance, circumstances permitting Hop o' my Thumb tokeep in the wake of his master, when the colonel, drawing rein, allowedme--I ought to say _us_, for the old horse had quite as much voice in thematter as I had--to come up with him. 

"The cunning old dog!" said he. "He has run straight for the deepestcutting in the railway. They'll all be pounded presently! They don't knowthis part so well as I do. I know every field and gate in it. I used to golarking over it all when I was only a cub myself. Confound it! I'm not upto much to-day. I suppose I'm getting old, you know; or I'd strike offhere at right angles to the left, and make for the bridge at Crumple'sCorner. I should lose the hounds though, I fear. I wonder what hislordship will do. "

All the time my old friend was talking, we were following the rest of thefield, whom, sure enough, as soon as we got into the next inclosure, wesaw drawing up one after another on the top of the railway cutting, whichran like the river of death between them and the fox-hunter's paradise. But at the moment we entered this field, whom should we see approaching usat right angles, from the direction of Purleybridge, but Harry Armstrong, mounted on _the_ mare! I rode towards him. 

"Trapped, you see, " said I. "Are you after the fox--or some nobler game?"

"I was going my rounds, " answered Harry, "when I caught sight of thehounds. I have no very pressing case to day, so I turned a few yards outof the road to see a bit of the sport. Confound these railways!"

At the moment--and all this passed, as the story-teller is so oftencompelled to remind his reader, in far less time than it takes to tell--over the hedge on the opposite side from where Harry had entered thefield, blundered a country fellow, on a great, heavy, but spirited horse, and ploughed his way up the soft furrow to where we stood. 

"Doctor!" he cried, half-breathless with haste and exertion--"Doctor!"

"Well?" answered Henry, alert. 

"There's a awful accident at Grubblebon Quarry, sir. Powder blowed up. Legs and arms! Good God! sir, make haste. "

"Well, " said Harry, whose compressed lips alone gave sign of his beingready for action, "ride to the town, and tell my housekeeper to give youbandages and wadding and oil, and splints, and whatever she knows to beneedful. Are there many hurt?"

"Half a dozen alive, sir. "

"Then you'd better let the other doctors know as well. And just tell myman to saddle Jilter and take him to by brother, the curate. He had bettercome out at once. Ride now. "

"I _will_, sir, " said the man, and was over the hedge in another minute. 

But not before Harry was over the railway. For he rode gently towards it, as if nothing particular was to be done, and chose as the best spot oneclose to where several of the gentlemen stood, disputing for a moment asto which was the best way to get across. Now on the top of the cuttingthere was a rail, and between the rail and the edge of the cutting a spaceof about four feet. Harry trotted his mare gently up to the rail, and wentover. Nor was the mutual confidence of mare and master misplaced fromeither side. She lighted and stood stock still within a foot of the slope, so powerful was she to stop herself. An uproar of cries arose among themen. I heard the old soldier's voice above them all. 

"Damn you, Armstrong, you fool!" he cried; "you'll break your neck, andserve you right too!"

I don't know a stronger proof that the classical hell has little hold onthe faith of the Saxons, than that good-hearted and true men will notunfrequently damn their friends when they are most anxious to save them. But before the words were half out of the colonel's mouth, Harry washalf-way down the cutting. He had gone straight at it like a cat, and itwas of course the only way. I had galloped to the edge after him, and nowsaw him, or rather her, descending by a succession of rebounds--notbounds--a succession, in fact, of short falls upon the fore-legs, whileHarry's head was nearly touching her rump. Arrived at the bottom, she gavetwo bounds across the rails, and the same moment was straining right upthe opposite bank in a fierce agony of effort, Harry hanging upon herneck. Now the mighty play of her magnificent hind quarters came intooperation. I could see, plainly enough across the gulf, the alternateknotting and loosening of the thick muscles as, step by step, she tore herway up the grassy slope. It was a terrible trial of muscle and wind, andvery few horses could have stood it. As she neared the top, her pace grewslower and slower, and the exertion more and more severe. If she had givenin, she would have rolled to the bottom, but nothing was less in herthoughts. Her master never spurred or urged her, except it may have beenby whispering in her ear, to which his mouth was near enough: he knew sheneeded no excitement to that effort. At length the final heave of herrump, as it came up to a level with her withers, told the breathlessspectators that the attempt was a success, when a loud "Hurrah for thedoctor and his mare!" burst from their lips. The doctor, however, onlywaved his hand in acknowledgment, for he had all to do yet. Fortunatelythere was space enough between the edge and the fence on that side toallow of his giving his mare a quarter of a circle of a gallop beforebringing her up to the rail, else in her fatigue she might have failed totop it. Over she went and away, with her tail streaming out behind her, asif she had done nothing worth thinking about, once it was done. One morecheer for the doctor--but no one dared to follow him. They scattered indifferent directions to find a less perilous crossing. I stuck by myleader. 

"By Jove! Cathcart, " said Lord Irksham, as they parted, "that doctor ofyours is a hero. He ought to have been bred a soldier. "

"He's better employed, my lord, " bawled the old colonel; for they were nowa good many yards asunder, making for different points in the hedge. Fromthis answer, I hoped well for the doctor. At all events, the coloneladmired his manliness more than ever, and that was a great thing. For me, I could hardly keep down the expression of an excitement which I did notwish to show. It was a great relief to me when the _hurrah!_ arose, and Icould let myself off in that way. I told you, kind reader, I was only anold boy. But, as the Arabs always give God thanks when they see abeautiful woman, and quite right too! so, in my heart, I praised God whohad made a mare with such muscles, and a man with such a heart. And I saidto myself, "A fine muscle is a fine thing; but the finest muscle of all, keeping the others going too, is the heart itself. That is the trueChristian muscle. And the real muscular Christianity is that which poursin a life-giving torrent from the devotion of the heart, receiving onlythat it may give. "

But I fancy I hear my reader saying, "Mr. Smith, you've forgotten the fox. What a sportsman you make!"

Well, I had forgotten the fox. But then we didn't kill him or find anotherthat day. So you won't care for the rest of the run. 

I was tired enough by the time we got back to Purleybridge. I went earlyto bed. 

The next morning, the colonel, the moment we met at the breakfast table, said to me, "You did not hear, Smith, what that young rascal of a doctor said to LordIrksham last night?"

"No, what was it?"

"It seems they met again towards evening, and his lordship said to him:'You hare-brained young devil!'--you know his lordship's rough way, "interposed the colonel, forgetting how roundly he had sworn at Harryhimself, "'by the time you're my age, you'll be more careful of the fewbrains you'll have left. ' To which expostulated Master Harry replied: 'Ifyour lordship had been my age, and would have done it yourself to kill afox: when I am your lordship's age, I hope I shall have the grace left todo as much to save a man. ' Whereupon his lordship rejoined, holding outhis hand, 'By Jove! sir, you are an honour to your profession. Come anddine with me on Monday. ' And what do you think the idiot did?--Backed outof it, and wouldn't go, because he thought his lordship condescending, andhe didn't want his patronage. But his lordship's not a bit like that, youknow. "

"Then if he isn't, he'll like Harry all the better for declining, and willprobably send him a proper invitation. "

And sure enough, I was right; and Harry did dine at Castle Irksham onMonday. 

Adela's eyes showed clearly enough that her ears were devouring every wordwe had said; and the glow on her face could not be mistaken by me atleast, though to another it might well appear only the sign of such anenthusiasm as one would like every girl to feel in the presence of nobleconduct of any kind. She had heard the whole story last night you may besure; and I do not doubt that the unrestrained admiration shown by herfather for the doctor's conduct, was a light in her heart which sleepitself could not extinguish, and which went shining on in her dreams. Admiration of the beloved is dear to a woman. You see I like to show thatalthough I _am_ an old bachelor, I know something about _them_. 

I met Harry that morning; that is, I contrived to meet him. 

"Well, how are you to-day, Harry?" I said. 

"All right, thank you. "

"Were there many hurt at the quarry?"

"Oh! it wasn't so very bad, I'm happy to say. "

"You did splendidly yesterday. "

"Oh, nonsense! It was my mare. It wasn't me. I had nothing to do with it. "

"Well! well! you have my full permission to say so, and to think so, too. "

"Well! well! say no more about it. "

So it was long before the subject was again alluded to by me. But it willbe long, too, before it is forgotten in that county. 

And so the evening came when we were to meet--for the last time as theStory-telling club--at the schoolmaster's house. It was now past the timeI had set myself for returning to London, and although my plans were neverof a very unalterable complexion, seeing I had the faculty of being ableto write wherever I was, and never admitted chairs and tables, and certainrows of bookshelves, to form part of my mental organism, without which therest of the mechanism would be thrown out of gear, I had yet reasons forwishing to be in London; and I intended to take my departure on the daybut one after the final meeting. --I may just remark, that before this timeone or two families had returned to Purleybridge, and others were freefrom their Christmas engagements, who would have been much pleased to joinour club; but, considering its ephemeral nature, and seeing it had beenformed only for what we hoped was a passing necessity, we felt that theintroduction of new blood, although essential for the long life ofanything constituted for long life, would only hasten the decay of itsbutterfly constitution. So we had kept our meetings entirely to ourselves. 

We all arrived about the same time, and found our host and hostess full ofquiet cordiality, to which their homeliness lent an additional charm. Therelation of host and guest is weakened by every addition to a company, andin a large assembly all but disappears. Indeed, the tendency of thepresent age is to blot from the story of every-day life all reminders ofthe ordinary human relations, as commonplace and insignificant, and tomingle all society in one concourse of atoms, in which the onlydistinctions shall be those of _rank_; whereas the sole power to keepsocial intercourse from growing stale is the recognition of the immortaland true in all the simple human relations. Then we look upon all men withreverence, and find ourselves safe and at home in the midst of divineintents, which may be violated and striven with, but can never be escaped, because the will of God is the very life and well-being of his creatures. 

Mrs. Bloomfield looked very nice in her black silk dress, and collar andcuffs of old lace, as she presided at the tea-table, and made us all feelthat it was a pleasure to her to serve us. 

After repeated apologies, and confessions of failure, our host then readthe following _parable_, as he called it, though I daresay it would bemore correct to call it an _allegory_. But as that word has so manywearisome associations, I, too, intend, whether right or wrong, to call ita parable. So, then, it shall be:

"THE CASTLE: A PARABLE. 

"On the top of a high cliff, forming part of the base of a great mountain, stood a lofty castle. When or how it was built, no man knew; nor could anyone pretend to understand its architecture. Every one who looked upon itfelt that it was lordly and noble; and where one part seemed not to agreewith another, the wise and modest dared not to call them incongruous, butpresumed that the whole might be constructed on some higher principle ofarchitecture than they yet understood. What helped them to this conclusionwas, that no one had ever seen the whole of the edifice; that, even of theportion best known, some part or other was always wrapped in thick foldsof mist from the mountain; and that, when the sun shone upon this mist, the parts of the building that appeared through the vaporous veil werestrangely glorified in their indistinctness, so that they seemed to belongto some aerial abode in the land of the sunset; and the beholders couldhardly tell whether they had ever seen them before, or whether they werenow for the first time partially revealed. 

"Nor, although it was inhabited, could certain information be procured asto its internal construction. Those who dwelt in it often discovered roomsthey had never entered before--yea, once or twice, --whole suites ofapartments, of which only dim legends had been handed down from formertimes. Some of them expected to find, one day, secret places, filled withtreasures of wondrous jewels; amongst which they hoped to light uponSolomon's ring, which had for ages disappeared from the earth, but whichhad controlled the spirits, and the possession of which made a man simplywhat a man should be, the king of the world. Now and then, a narrow, winding stair, hitherto untrodden, would bring them forth on a new turret, whence new prospects of the circumjacent country were spread out beforethem. How many more of these there might be, or how much loftier, no onecould tell. Nor could the foundations of the castle in the rock on whichit was built be determined with the smallest approach to precision. Thoseof the family who had given themselves to exploring in that direction, found such a labyrinth of vaults and passages, and endless successions ofdown-going stairs, out of one underground space into a yet lower, thatthey came to the conclusion that at least the whole mountain wasperforated and honeycombed in this fashion. They had a dim consciousness, too, of the presence, in those awful regions, of beings whom they couldnot comprehend. Once they came upon the brink of a great black gulf, inwhich the eye could see nothing but darkness: they recoiled with horror;for the conviction flashed upon them that that gulf went down into thevery central spaces of the earth, of which they had hitherto beenwandering only in the upper crust; nay, that the seething blackness beforethem had relations mysterious, and beyond human comprehension, with thefar-off voids of space, into which the stars dare not enter. 

"At the foot of the cliff whereon the castle stood, lay a deep lake, inaccessible save by a few avenues, being surrounded on all sides withprecipices which made the water look very black, although it was pure asthe night-sky. From a door in the castle, which was not to be otherwiseentered, a broad flight of steps, cut in the rock, went down to the lake, and disappeared below its surface. Some thought the steps went to the verybottom of the water. 

"Now in this castle there dwelt a large family of brothers and sisters. They had never seen their father or mother. The younger had been educatedby the elder, and these by an unseen care and ministration, about thesources of which they had, somehow or other, troubled themselves verylittle--for what people are accustomed to, they regard as coming fromnobody; as if help and progress and joy and love were the natural crops ofChaos or old Night. But Tradition said that one day--it was utterlyuncertain _when_--their father would come, and leave them no more; for hewas still alive, though where he lived nobody knew. In the meantime allthe rest had to obey their eldest brother, and listen to his counsels. 

"But almost all the family was very fond of liberty, as they called it;and liked to run up and down, hither and thither, roving about, withneither law nor order, just as they pleased. So they could not enduretheir brother's tyranny, as they called it. At one time they said that hewas only one of themselves, and therefore they would not obey him; atanother, that he was not like them, and could not understand them, and_therefore_ they would not obey him. Yet, sometimes, when he came andlooked them full in the face, they were terrified, and dared not disobey, for he was stately and stern and strong. Not one of them loved himheartily, except the eldest sister, who was very beautiful and silent, andwhose eyes shone as if light lay somewhere deep behind them. Even she, although she loved him, thought him very hard sometimes; for when he hadonce said a thing plainly, he could not be persuaded to think it overagain. So even she forgot him sometimes, and went her own ways, andenjoyed herself without him. Most of them regarded him as a sort ofwatchman, whose business it was to keep them in order; and so they wereindignant and disliked him. Yet they all had a secret feeling that theyought to be subject to him; and after any particular act of disregard, none of them could think, with any peace, of the old story about thereturn of their father to his house. But indeed they never thought muchabout it, or about their father at all; for how could those who cared solittle for their brother, whom they saw every day, care for their fatherwhom they had never seen?--One chief cause of complaint against him wasthat he interfered with their favourite studies and pursuits; whereas heonly sought to make them give up trifling with earnest things, and seekfor truth, and not for amusement, from the many wonders around them. Hedid not want them to turn to other studies, or to eschew pleasures; but, in those studies, to seek the highest things most, and other things inproportion to their true worth and nobleness. This could not fail to bedistasteful to those who did not care for what was higher than they. Andso matters went on for a time. They thought they could do better withouttheir brother; and their brother knew they could not do at all withouthim, and tried to fulfil the charge committed into his hands. 

"At length, one day, for the thought seemed to strike them simultaneously, they conferred together about giving a great entertainment in theirgrandest rooms to any of their neighbours who chose to come, or indeed toany inhabitants of the earth or air who would visit them. They were tooproud to reflect that some company might defile even the dwellers in whatwas undoubtedly the finest palace on the face of the earth. But what madethe thing worse, was, that the old tradition said that these rooms were tobe kept entirely for the use of the owner of the castle. And, indeed, whenever they entered them, such was the effect of their loftiness andgrandeur upon their minds, that they always thought of the old story, andcould not help believing it. Nor would the brother permit them to forgetit now; but, appearing suddenly amongst them, when they had no expectationof being interrupted by him, he rebuked them, both for the indiscriminatenature of their invitation, and for the intention of introducing any one, not to speak of some who would doubtless make their appearance on theevening in question, into the rooms kept sacred for the use of the unknownfather. But by this time their talk with each other had so excited theirexpectations of enjoyment, which had previously been strong enough, thatanger sprung up within them at the thought of being deprived of theirhopes, and they looked each other in the eyes; and the look said: 'We aremany and he is one--let us get rid of him, for he is always finding fault, and thwarting us in the most innocent pleasures;--as if we would wish todo anything wrong!' So without a word spoken, they rushed upon him; andalthough he was stronger than any of them, and struggled hard at first, yet they overcame him at last. Indeed some of them thought he yielded totheir violence long before they had the mastery of him; and this verysubmission terrified the more tender-hearted amongst them. However, theybound him; carried him down many stairs, and, having remembered an ironstaple in the wall of a certain vault, with a thick rusty chain attachedto it, they bore him thither, and made the chain fast around him. Therethey left him, shutting the great gnarring brazen door of the vault, asthey departed for the upper regions of the castle. 

"Now all was in a tumult of preparation. Every one was talking of thecoming festivity; but no one spoke of the deed they had done. A suddenpaleness overspread the face, now of one, and now of another; but itpassed away, and no one took any notice of it; they only plied the task ofthe moment the more energetically. Messengers were sent far and near, notto individuals or families, but publishing in all places of concourse ageneral invitation to any who chose to come on a certain day, and partakefor certain succeeding days of the hospitality of the dwellers in thecastle. Many were the preparations immediately begun for complying withthe invitation. But the noblest of their neighbours refused to appear; notfrom pride, but because of the unsuitableness and carelessness of such amode. With some of them it was an old condition in the tenure of theirestates, that they should go to no one's dwelling except visited inperson, and expressly solicited. Others, knowing what sort of personswould be there, and that, from a certain physical antipathy, they couldscarcely breathe in their company, made up their minds at once not to go. Yet multitudes, many of them beautiful and innocent as well as gay, resolved to appear. 

"Meanwhile the great rooms of the castle were got in readiness--that is, they proceeded to deface them with decorations; for there was a solemnityand stateliness about them in their ordinary condition, which was at oncefelt to be unsuitable for the light-hearted company so soon to move aboutin them with the self-same carelessness with which men walk abroad withinthe great heavens and hills and clouds. One day, while the workmen werebusy, the eldest sister, of whom I have already spoken, happened to enter, she knew not why. Suddenly the great idea of the mighty halls dawned uponher, and filled her soul. The so-called decorations vanished from herview, and she felt as if she stood in her father's presence. She was atone elevated and humbled. As suddenly the idea faded and fled, and shebeheld but the gaudy festoons and draperies and paintings which disfiguredthe grandeur. She wept and sped away. Now it was too late to interfere, and things must take their course. She would have been but a Cassandra-prophetess to those who saw but the pleasure before them. She had not beenpresent when her brother was imprisoned; and indeed for some days had beenso wrapt in her own business, that she had taken but little heed ofanything that was going on. But they all expected her to show herself whenthe company was gathered; and they had applied to her for advice atvarious times during their operations. 

"At length the expected hour arrived, and the company began to assemble. It was a warm summer evening. The dark lake reflected the rose-colouredclouds in the west, and through the flush rowed many gaily painted boats, with various coloured flags, towards the massy rock on which the castlestood. The trees and flowers seemed already asleep, and breathing forththeir sweet dream-breath. Laughter and low voices rose from the breast ofthe lake to the ears of the youths and maidens looking forth expectantfrom the lofty windows. They went down to the broad platform at the top ofthe stairs in front of the door to receive their visitors. By degrees thefestivities of the evening commenced. The same smiles flew forth both ateyes and lips, darting like beams through the gathering crowd. Music, fromunseen sources, now rolled in billows, now crept in ripples through thesea of air that filled the lofty rooms. And in the dancing halls, whenhand took hand, and form and motion were moulded and swayed by theindwelling music, it governed not these alone, but, as the ruling spiritof the place, every new burst of music for a new dance swept before it anew and accordant odour, and dyed the flames that glowed in the loftylamps with a new and accordant stain. The floors bent beneath the feet ofthe time-keeping dancers. But twice in the evening some of the inmatesstarted, and the pallor occasionally common to the household overspreadtheir faces, for they felt underneath them a counter-motion to the dance, as if the floor rose slightly to answer their feet. And all the time theirbrother lay below in the dungeon, like John the Baptist in the castle ofHerod, when the lords and captains sat around, and the daughter ofHerodias danced before them. Outside, all around the castle, brooded thedark night unheeded; for the clouds had come up from all sides, and werecrowding together overhead. In the unfrequent pauses of the music, theymight have heard, now and then, the gusty rush of a lonely wind, comingand going no one could know whence or whither, born and dying unexpectedand unregarded. 

"But when the festivities were at their height, when the external andpassing confidence which is produced between superficial natures by acommon pleasure was at the full, a sudden crash of thunder quelled themusic, as the thunder quells the noise of the uplifted sea. The windowswere driven in, and torrents of rain, carried in the folds of a rushingwind, poured into the halls. The lights were swept away; and the greatrooms, now dark within, were darkened yet more by the dazzling shoots offlame from the vault of blackness overhead. Those that ventured to lookout of the windows saw, in the blue brilliancy of the quick-following jetsof lightning, the lake at the foot of the rock, ordinarily so still and sodark, lighted up, not on the surface only, but down to half its depth; sothat, as it tossed in the wind, like a tortured sea of writhing flames, orincandescent half-molten serpents of brass, they could not tell whether astrong phosphorescence did not issue from the transparent body of thewaters, as if earth and sky lightened together, one consenting source offlaming utterance. 

"Sad was the condition of the late plastic mass of living form that hadflowed into shape at the will and law of the music. Broken intoindividuals, the common transfusing spirit withdrawn, they stood drenched, cold, and benumbed, with clinging garments; light, order, harmony, purposedeparted, and chaos restored; the issuings of life turned back on theirsources, chilly and dead. And in every heart reigned the falsest ofdespairing convictions, that this was the only reality, and that was but adream. The eldest sister stood with clasped hands and down-bent head, shivering and speechless, as if waiting for something to follow. Nor didshe wait long. A terrible flash and thunder-peal made the castle rock; andin the pausing silence that followed, her quick sense heard the rattlingof a chain far off, deep down; and soon the sound of heavy footsteps, accompanied with the clanking of iron, reached her ear. She felt that herbrother was at hand. Even in the darkness, and amidst the bellowing ofanother deep-bosomed cloud-monster, she knew that he had entered the room. A moment after, a continuous pulsation of angry blue light began, which, lasting for some moments, revealed him standing amidst them, gaunt, haggard, and motionless; his hair and beard untrimmed, his face ghastly, his eyes large and hollow. The light seemed to gather around him as acentre. Indeed some believed that it throbbed and radiated from hisperson, and not from the stormy heavens above them. The lightning had rentthe wall of his prison, and released the iron staple of his chain, whichhe had wound about him like a girdle. In his hand he carried an ironfetter-bar, which he had found on the floor of the vault. More terrifiedat his aspect than at all the violence of the storm, the visitors, withmany a shriek and cry, rushed out into the tempestuous night. By degrees, the storm died away. Its last flash revealed the forms of the brothers andsisters lying prostrate, with their faces on the floor, and that fearfulshape standing motionless amidst them still. 

"Morning dawned, and there they lay, and there he stood. But at a wordfrom him, they arose and went about their various duties, thoughlistlessly enough. The eldest sister was the last to rise; and when shedid, it was only by a terrible effort that she was able to reach her room, where she fell again on the floor. There she remained lying for days. Thebrother caused the doors of the great suite of rooms to be closed, leavingthem just as they were, with all the childish adornment scattered about, and the rain still falling in through the shattered windows. 'Thus letthem lie, ' said he, 'till the rain and frost have cleansed them of paintand drapery: no storm can hurt the pillars and arches of these halls. '

"The hours of this day went heavily. The storm was gone, but the rain wasleft; the passion had departed, but the tears remained behind. Dull anddark the low misty clouds brooded over the castle and the lake, and shutout all the neighbourhood. Even if they had climbed to the loftiest knownturret, they would have found it swathed in a garment of clinging vapour, affording no refreshment to the eye, and no hope to the heart. There wasone lofty tower that rose sheer a hundred feet above the rest, and fromwhich the fog could have been seen lying in a grey mass beneath; but thattower they had not yet discovered, nor another close beside it, the top ofwhich was never seen, nor could be, for the highest clouds of heavenclustered continually around it. The rain fell continuously, though notheavily, without; and within, too, there were clouds from which droppedthe tears which are the rain of the spirit. All the good of life seemedfor the time departed, and their souls lived but as leafless trees thathad forgotten the joy of the summer, and whom no wind prophetic of springhad yet visited. They moved about mechanically, and had not strengthenough left to wish to die. 

"The next day the clouds were higher, and a little wind blew through suchloopholes in the turrets as the false improvements of the inmates had notyet filled with glass, shutting out, as the storm, so the serene visitingsof the heavens. Throughout the day, the brother took various opportunitiesof addressing a gentle command, now to one and now to another of hisfamily. It was obeyed in silence. The wind blew fresher through theloopholes and the shattered windows of the great rooms, and found its way, by unknown passages, to faces and eyes hot with weeping. It cooled andblessed them. --When the sun arose the next day, it was in a clear sky. 

"By degrees, everything fell into the regularity of subordination. Withthe subordination came increase of freedom. The steps of the more youthfulof the family were heard on the stairs and in the corridors more light andquick than ever before. Their brother had lost the terrors of aspectproduced by his confinement, and his commands were issued more gently, andoftener with a smile, than in all their previous history. By degrees hispresence was universally felt through the house. It was no surprise to anyone at his studies, to see him by his side when he lifted up his eyes, though he had not before known that he was in the room. And although somedread still remained, it was rapidly vanishing before the advances of afirm friendship. Without immediately ordering their labours, he alwaysinfluenced them, and often altered their direction and objects. The changesoon evident in the household was remarkable. A simpler, nobler expressionwas visible on all the countenances. The voices of the men were deeper, and yet seemed by their very depth more feminine than before; while thevoices of the women were softer and sweeter, and at the same time morefull and decided. Now the eyes had often an expression as if their sightwas absorbed in the gaze of the inward eyes; and when the eyes of two met, there passed between those eyes the utterance of a conviction that bothmeant the same thing. But the change was, of course, to be seen moreclearly, though not more evidently, in individuals. 

"One of the brothers, for instance, was very fond of astronomy. He had hisobservatory on a lofty tower, which stood pretty clear of the others, towards the north and east. But hitherto, his astronomy, as he had calledit, had been more of the character of astrology. Often, too, he might havebeen seen directing a heaven-searching telescope to catch the rapidtransit of a fiery shooting-star, belonging altogether to the earthlyatmosphere, and not to the serene heavens. He had to learn that the signsof the air are not the signs of the skies. Nay, once, his brothersurprised him in the act of examining through his longest tube a patch ofburning heath upon a distant hill. But now he was diligent from morningtill night in the study of the laws of the truth that has to do withstars; and when the curtain of the sunlight was about to rise from beforethe heavenly worlds which it had hidden all day long, he might be seenpreparing his instruments with that solemn countenance with which itbecometh one to look into the mysterious harmonies of Nature. Now helearned what law and order and truth are, what consent and harmony mean;how the individual may find his own end in a higher end, where law andfreedom mean the same thing, and the purest certainty exists without theslightest constraint. Thus he stood on the earth, and looked to theheavens. 

"Another, who had been much given to searching out the hollow places andrecesses in the foundations of the castle, and who was often to be foundwith compass and ruler working away at a chart of the same which he hadbeen in process of constructing, now came to the conclusion, that only byascending the upper regions of his abode could he become capable ofunderstanding what lay beneath; and that, in all probability, one clearprospect, from the top of the highest attainable turret, over the castleas it lay below, would reveal more of the idea of its internalconstruction, than a year spent in wandering through its subterraneanvaults. But the fact was, that the desire to ascend wakening within himhad made him forget what was beneath; and having laid aside his chart fora time at least, he was now to be met in every quarter of the upper parts, searching and striving upward, now in one direction, now in another; andseeking, as he went, the best outlooks into the clear air of outerrealities. 

"And they began to discover that they were all meditating differentaspects of the same thing; and they brought together their variousdiscoveries, and recognized the likeness between them; and the one thingoften explained the other, and combining with it helped to a third. Theygrew in consequence more and more friendly and loving; so that every nowand then one turned to another and said, as in surprise, 'Why, you are mybrother!'--'Why, you are my sister!' And yet they had always known it. 

"The change reached to all. One, who lived on the air of sweet sounds, andwho was almost always to be found seated by her harp or some otherinstrument, had, till the late storm, been generally merry and playful, though sometimes sad. But for a long time after that, she was often foundweeping, and playing little simple airs which she had heard in childhood--backward longings, followed by fresh tears. Before long, however, a newelement manifested itself in her music. It became yet more wild, andsometimes retained all its sadness, but it was mingled with anticipationand hope. The past and the future merged in one; and while memory yetbrought the rain-cloud, expectation threw the rainbow across its bosom--and all was uttered in her music, which rose and swelled, now to defiance, now to victory; then died in a torrent of weeping. 

"As to the eldest sister, it was many days before she recovered from theshock. At length, one day, her brother came to her, took her by the hand, led her to an open window, and told her to seat herself by it, and lookout. She did so; but at first saw nothing more than an unsympathizingblaze of sunlight. But as she looked, the horizon widened out, and thedome of the sky ascended, till the grandeur seized upon her soul, and shefell on her knees and wept. Now the heavens seemed to bend lovingly overher, and to stretch out wide cloud-arms to embrace her; the earth lay likethe bosom of an infinite love beneath her, and the wind kissed her cheekwith an odour of roses. She sprang to her feet, and turned, in an agony ofhope, expecting to behold the face of the father, but there stood only herbrother, looking calmly though lovingly on her emotion. She turned againto the window. On the hilltops rested the sky: Heaven and Earth were one;and the prophecy awoke in her soul, that from betwixt them would the stepsof the father approach. 

"Hitherto she had seen but Beauty; now she beheld Truth. Often had shelooked on such clouds as these, and loved the strange ethereal curves intowhich the winds moulded them; and had smiled as her little pet sister toldher what curious animals she saw in them, and tried to point them out toher. Now they were as troops of angels, jubilant over her new birth, forthey sang, in her soul, of beauty, and truth, and love. She looked down, and her little sister knelt beside her. 

"She was a curious child, with black, glittering eyes, and dark hair; atthe mercy of every wandering wind; a frolicsome, daring girl, who laughedmore than she smiled. She was generally in attendance on her sister, andwas always finding and bringing her strange things. She never pulled aprimrose, but she knew the haunts of all the orchis tribe, and broughtfrom them bees and butterflies innumerable, as offerings to her sister. Curious moths and glow-worms were her greatest delight; and she loved thestars, because they were like the glow-worms. But the change had affectedher too; for her sister saw that her eyes had lost their glittering look, and had become more liquid and transparent. And from that time she oftenobserved that her gaiety was more gentle, her smile more frequent, herlaugh less bell-like; and although she was as wild as ever, there was moreelegance in her motions, and more music in her voice. And she clung to hersister with far greater fondness than before. 

"The land reposed in the embrace of the warm summer days. The clouds ofheaven nestled around the towers of the castle; and the hearts of itsinmates became conscious of a warm atmosphere--of a presence of love. Theybegan to feel like the children of a household, when the mother is athome. Their faces and forms grew daily more and more beautiful, till theywondered as they gazed on each other. As they walked in the gardens of thecastle, or in the country around, they were often visited, especially theeldest sister, by sounds that no one heard but themselves, issuing fromwoods and waters; and by forms of love that lightened out of flowers, andgrass, and great rocks. Now and then the young children would come in witha slow, stately step, and, with great eyes that looked as if they woulddevour all the creation, say that they had met the father amongst thetrees, and that he had kissed them; 'And, ' added one of them once, 'I grewso big!' But when the others went out to look, they could see no one. Andsome said it must have been the brother, who grew more and more beautiful, and loving, and reverend, and who had lost all traces of hardness, so thatthey wondered they could ever have thought him stern and harsh. But theeldest sister held her peace, and looked up, and her eyes filled withtears. 'Who can tell, ' thought she, 'but the little children know moreabout it than we?'

"Often, at sunrise, might be heard their hymn of praise to their unseenfather, whom they felt to be near, though they saw him not. Some wordsthereof once reached my ear through the folds of the music in which theyfloated, as in an upward snowstorm of sweet sounds. And these are some ofthe words I heard--but there was much I seemed to hear which I could notunderstand, and some things which I understood but cannot utter again. 

"'We thank thee that we have a father, and not a maker; that thou hastbegotten us, and not moulded us as images of clay; that we have come forthof thy heart, and have not been fashioned by thy hands. It _must_ be so. Only the heart of a father is able to create. We rejoice in it, and blessthee that we know it. We thank thee for thyself. Be what thou art--ourroot and life, our beginning and end, our all in all. Come home to us. Thou livest; therefore we live. In thy light we see. Thou art--that is allour song. '

"Thus they worship, and love, and wait. Their hope and expectation growever stronger and brighter, that one day, ere long, the Father will showHimself amongst them, and thenceforth dwell in His own house for evermore. What was once but an old legend has become the one desire of their hearts. 

"And the loftiest hope is the surest of being fulfilled. "

 * * * * *

"Thank you, heartily, " said the curate. "I will choose another time totell you how much I have enjoyed your parable, which is altogether to mymind, and far beyond anything I could do. "

Mr. Bloomfield returned no answer, but his countenance showed that he wasfar from hearing this praise unmoved. The faces of the rest showed thatthey too had listened with pleasure; and Adela's face shone as if she hadreceived more than delight--hope, namely, and onward impulse. The colonelalone--I forgot to say that Mrs. Cathcart had a headache, and did notcome--seemed to have been left behind. 

"I am a stupid old fellow, I believe, " said he; "but to tell the truth, Idid not know what to make of it. It seemed all the time to be telling mein one breath something I knew and something I didn't and couldn't know. Iwish I could express what I mean, but it puzzled me too much for that;although every now and then it sounded very beautiful indeed. "

"I will try and tell you what it said to me, sometime, papa, " said Adela. 

"Thank you, my child; I should much like to understand it. I believe Ihave done my duty by my king and country, but a man has to learn a gooddeal after all that is over and done with; and I suppose it is never toolate to begin, Mr. Armstrong?"

"On the contrary, I not merely believe that no future time can be so goodas the present, but I am inclined to assert that no past time could havebeen so good as the present. This seems to be a paradox, but I think Icould explain it very easily. I find, however, that the ladies are lookingas if they wanted to go home, and I am quite ready, Mrs. Armstrong. Butwhile the ladies put their bonnets on, just let Smith see your schoolroom, Mr. Bloomfield. As an inhabitant of Purleybridge, I already begin to beproud of it. "

The ladies did go to put on their bonnets. I followed Mr. Bloomfield andthe colonel into the schoolroom, and the curate followed me. But after wehad looked about us and remarked on the things about for five minutes, finding I had left my handkerchief in the drawing-room, I went back tofetch it. The door was open, and I saw Adela--no bonnet on her head yet--standing face to face with Harry. They were alone. I hesitated for amoment what I should do, and while I hesitated, I could not help seeingthe arm of the doctor curved and half-outstretched, as if it would gladlyhave folded about her, and his face droop and droop, till it could nothave been more than half a foot from hers. Now, as far as my seeing thiswas concerned, there was no harm done. But behind me came the curate andthe schoolmaster, and they had eyes in their heads, at least equal tomine. Well, no great harm yet. And just far enough down the stair to seeinto the drawing-room, appeared their wives, who could not fail to see theunconscious pair, at least as well as we men below. Still there was nogreat harm done, for Mrs. Cathcart was at home, as I have said. But, _horresco referens!_ excuse the recondite quotation--at the same momentthe form of the colonel appeared, looking over the heads of all before himright in at the drawing-room door, and full at the young sinners, who hadheard no sound along the matted passage. 

"Here's a go!" said I to myself--not aloud, observe, for it was slang. 

For just think of a man like Harry caught thus in a perfect trap ofconverging looks. 

As if from a sudden feeling of hostile presence, he glanced round--andstood erect. The poor fellow's face at once flushed as red as shame couldmake it, but he neither lost his self-possession, nor sought to escapeunder cover of a useless pretence. He turned to the colonel. 

"Colonel Cathcart, " he said, "I will choose a more suitable time to makemy apology. I wish you good night. "

He bowed to us all, not choosing to risk a refusal of his hand by thecolonel, and went quickly out of the house. 

The colonel stood for some moments, which felt to me like minutes, as ifhe had just mounted guard at the drawing-room door. His face was perfectlyexpressionless. We men felt very much like stale oysters, and would ratherhave skipped that same portion of our inevitable existence. What theladies felt, I do not pretend, being an old bachelor, to divine. 

Adela, pale as death, fled up the stair. The only thing left for the restof us was, to act as much as possible as if nothing were the matter, andget out of the way before the poor girl came down again. As soon as I gothome, I went to my own room, and thus avoided the _tete-à-tete_ with myhost which generally closed our evenings. 

The colonel went up to his daughter's room, and remained there for nearlyan hour. Adela was not at the breakfast-table the next morning. Her fatherlooked very gloomy, and Mrs. Cathcart grimly satisfied, with _I told youso_ written on her face as plainly as I have now written it on the paper. How she came to know anything about it, I can only conjecture. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

WHAT NEXT?

Harry called early, and was informed that the colonel was not at home. 

"Something's the matter, Mr. Armstrong, " said Beeves. "Master's not athome to you to-day, he says, nor any other day till he countermands theorder--that was the word, sir. I'm sure I am very sorry, sir. "

"So am I, " said Harry. "How's your mistress?"

"Haven't seen her to-day, sir. Emma says she's poorly. But she is down. Emma looks as if she knew something and wouldn't tell it. I'll get it outof her though, sir. We'll be having that old Wade coming about the houseagain, I'm afeard, sir. _He's_ no good. "

"At all events you will let your master know that I have called, " saidHarry, as he turned disconsolately, to take his departure. 

"That I will, sir. And I'll be sure he hears me. He's rather deaf, sometimes, you know, sir. "

"Thank you, Beeves. Good morning. "

Now what could have been Harry's intention in calling upon the colonel?Why, as he had said himself, to make an apology. But what kind of apologycould he make? Clearly there was only one that would satisfy all parties--and that must be in the form of a request to be allowed to pay hisaddresses--(that used to be the phrase in my time--I don't know the youngladies' slang for it now-a-days)--to Adela. Did I say--_satisfy allparties_? This was just the one form affairs might take, which would leastof all satisfy the colonel. I believe, with all his rigid proprieties, hewould have preferred the confession that the doctor had so far forgottenhimself as to attempt to snatch a kiss--a theft of which I cannot imaginea gentleman guilty, least of all a doctor from his patient; which relationno doubt the colonel persisted in regarding as the sole possible andeverlastingly permanent one between Adela and Harry. The former was, however, the only apology Harry could make; and evidently the colonelexpected it when he refused to see him. 

But why should he refuse to see him?--The doctor was not on an equalitywith the colonel. Well, to borrow a form from the Shorter Catechism:wherein consisted the difference between the colonel and the doctor?--Thedifference between the colonel and the doctor consisted chiefly in this, that whereas the colonel lived by the wits of his ancestors, Harry livedby his own, and therefore was not so respectable as the colonel. Or inother words: the colonel inherited a good estate, with the ordinaryquantity of brains; while Harry inherited a good education and anextraordinary quantity of brains. So of course it was very presumptuous inHarry to aspire to the hand of Miss Cathcart. 

In the forenoon the curate called upon me, and was shown into the librarywhere I was. 

"What's that scapegrace brother of mine been doing, Smith?" he asked, themoment he entered. 

"Wanting to marry Adela, " I replied. 

"What has he done?"

"Called this morning. "

"And seen Colonel Cathcart?"

"No. "

"Not at home?"

"In a social sense, not at home; in a moral sense, very far from at home;in a natural sense, seated in his own arm-chair, with his own work on thePeninsular War open on the table before him. "

"Wouldn't see him?"

"No. "

"What's he to do then?"

"I think we had better leave that to him. Harry is not the man I take himfor if he doesn't know his own way better than you or I can tell him. "

"You're right, Smith. How's Miss Cathcart?"

"I have never seen her so well. Certainly she did not come down tobreakfast, but I believe that was merely from shyness. She appeared in thedining-room directly after, and although it was evident she had beencrying, her step was as light and her colour as fresh as her lover evencould wish to see them. "

"Then she is not without hope in the matter?"

"If she loves him, and I think she does, she is not without hope. But I donot think the fact of her looking well would be sufficient to prove that. For some mental troubles will favour the return of bodily health. Theywill at least give one an interest in life. "

"Then you think her father has given in a little about it?"

"I don't believe it. --If her illness and she were both of an ordinarykind, she would gain her point now by taking to her bed. But from what Iknow of Adela she would scorn and resist that. "

"Well, we must let matters take their course. Harry is worthy of the bestwife in Christendom. "

"I believe it. And more, if Adela will make that best wife, I think hewill have the best wife. But we must have patience. "

Next morning, a letter arrived from Harry to the colonel. I have seen it, and it was to this effect:

"My dear Sir, --As you will not see me, I am forced to write to you. Let myearnest entreaty to be allowed to address your daughter, cover, if itcannot make up for, my inadvertence of the other evening. I am very sorryI have offended you. If you will receive me, I trust you will not find ithard to forget. Yours, &c. "

To this the colonel replied:

"Sir, --It is at least useless, if not worse, to apply for an _ex postfacto_ permission. What I might have answered, had the courtesies ofsociety been observed, it may be easy for me to determine, but it isuseless now to repeat. Allow me to say that I consider such behaviour of amedical practitioner towards a young lady, his patient, altogetherunworthy of a gentleman, as every member of a learned profession issupposed to be. I have the honour, &c. "

I returned the curate's call, and while we were sitting in his study, inwalked Harry with a rather rueful countenance. 

"What do you say to that, Ralph?" said he, handing his brother the letter. 

"Cool, " replied Ralph. "But Harry, my boy, you have given him quite theupper hand of you. How could you be so foolish as kiss the girl there andthen?"

"I didn't, " said Harry. 

"But you did just as bad. You were going to do it. "

"I don't think I was. But somehow those great eyes of hers kept pullingand pulling my head, so that I don't know what I was going to do. Iremember nothing but her eyes. Suddenly a scared look in them startled me, and I saw it all. Mr. Smith, was it so very dishonourable of me?"

"You are the best judge of that yourself, Harry, " I answered. "Just let melook at the note. "

I read it, folded it up carefully, and returning it, said:

"He's given you a good hold of him there. It is really too bad ofCathcart, being a downright good fellow, to forget that he ran away withMiss Selby, old Sir George, the baronet's daughter. Neither of them everrepented it; though he was only Captain Cathcart then, in a regiment offoot, too, and was not even next heir to the property he has now. "

"Hurrah!" cried Harry. 

"Stop, stop. That doesn't make it a bit better, " said his brother. "Isuppose you mean to argue with him on that ground, do you?"

"No, I don't. I'm not such a fool. But if I _should_ be forced to run awaywith her, _he_ can't complain, you know. "

"No, no, Harry, my boy, " said I. "That won't do. It would break the oldman's heart. You must have patience for a while. "

"Yes, yes. I know what I mean to do. "

"What?"

"When I've made up my mind, I never ask advice. It only bewilders afellow. "

"Quite right, Hal, " said his brother. "Only don't do anything foolish. "

"I won't do anything she doesn't like. "

"No, nor anything you won't like yourself afterwards, " I ventured to say. 

"I hope not, " returned he, gravely, as he walked out, too much absorbed tobid either of us _good morning_. 

It was now more than time that I should return to town; but I could notleave affairs in this unsatisfactory state. I therefore lingered on to seewhat would come next. 

CHAPTER IX. 

GENERALSHIP. 

The next day Harry called again. 

"Master 'aint countermanded the order, Doctor. He 'aint at home--not a bitof it. He 'aint been out of the house since that night. "

"Well, is Miss Cathcart at home?"

"She's said nothing to the contrairy, sir. I believe she _is_ at home. Iknow she's out in the garding--on the terridge. "

And old Beeves held the door wide open, as if to say--"Don't stop to askany questions, but step into the garden. " Which Harry did. 

There was a high gravel terrace along one end of it, always dry and sunnywhen there was any sun going; and there she was, over-looked by thewindows of her papa's room. 

Now I do not know anything that passed upon that terrace. How should Iknow? Neither of them was likely to tell old Smith. And I wonder at theclumsiness of novelists in pretending to reveal all that _he_ said, andall that _she_ answered. But if I were such a clumsy novelist, I shouldlike to invent it all, and see if I couldn't make you believe every wordof it. 

This is what I would invent. 

The moment Adela caught sight of Harry, she cast one frightened glance upto her father's windows, and stood waiting. He lifted his hat; and heldout his hand. She took it. Neither spoke. They turned together and walkedalong the terrace. 

"I am very sorry, " said Harry at last. 

"Are you? What for?"

"Because I got you into a scrape. "

"Oh! I don't care. "

"Don't you?"

"No; not a bit. "

"I didn't mean it. "

"What didn't you mean?"

"It did look like it, I know. "

"Look like what?"

"Adela, you'll drive me crazy. It was all your fault. "

"So I told papa, and he was angrier than ever. "

"You angel! It wasn't your fault. It was your eyes. I couldn't help it. Adela, I love you dreadfully. "

"I'm _so_ glad. "

She gave a sigh as of relief. 

"Why?"

"Because I wished you would. But I don't deserve it. A great clever manlike you love a useless girl like me! I _am_ so glad!"

"But your papa?"

"I'm so happy, I can't think about him steadily just yet. "

"Adela, I love you--so dearly! Only I am too old for you. "

"Old! how old are you?"

"Nearly thirty. "

"And I'm only one-and-twenty. You're worth one and a half of me--yestwenty of me. "

And so their lips played with the ripples of love, while their hearts wereheaving with the ground swell of its tempest. 

Now what I do know about is this:

The colonel came down-stairs in his dressing-gown and slippers, and foundBeeves flattening his nose against the glass of the garden-door. 

"Beeves!" said the colonel. 

"Sir!" said Beeves, darting around and confronting his master with a facepurple and pale from the sense of utter unpreparedness. 

"Beeves, where is your mistress?"

"My mistress, sir? I beg your pardon, sir, I'm sure, sir! How should Iknow, sir? I 'aint let her out. Shall I run up-stairs and see if she is inher room?"

"Open the door. "

Beeves laid violent hold upon the handle of the door, and pulled andtwisted, but always took care to pull before he twisted. 

"I declare if that stupid Ann 'aint been and locked it. It aint nice inthe garden to-day, sir--leastways without goloshes, " added he, lookingdown at his master's slippers. 

Now the colonel understood Beeves, and Beeves knew that he understood him. But Beeves knew likewise that the colonel would not give in to thepossibility of his servant's taking such liberties with him. 

"Never mind, " said the colonel; "I will go the other way. "

The moment he was out of sight, Beeves opened the garden-door, and begangesticulating like a madman, fully persuaded that the doctor would makehis escape. But so far from being prepared to run away, Harry had comethere with the express intention of forcing a conference. So that when thecolonel made his appearance on the terrace, the culprits walked slowlytowards him. He went to meet them with long military strides, and was thefirst to speak. 

"Mr. Armstrong, to what am I to attribute this intrusion?"

"Chiefly to the desire of seeing you, Colonel Cathcart. "

"And I find you with my daughter!--Adela, go in-doors, "

Adela withdrew at once. 

"You denied yourself, and I inquired for Miss Cathcart. "

"You will oblige me by not calling again. "

"Surely I have committed no fault beyond forgiveness. "

"You have taken advantage of your admission into my family to entrap theaffections of my daughter. "

"Colonel Cathcart, as far as my conscience tells me, I have not behavedunworthily. "

"Sir, is it not unworthy of a gentleman to use such professionaladvantages to gain the favour of one who--you will excuse me for remindingyou of what you will not allow me to forget--is as much above him insocial position, as inferior to him in years and experience. "

"Is it always unworthy in a gentleman to aspire to a lady above him insocial position, Colonel Cathcart?"

The honesty of the colonel checked all reply to this home-thrust. 

Harry resumed:

"At least I am able to maintain my wife in what may be consideredcomfort. "

"Your wife!" exclaimed the colonel, his anger blazing out at the word. "Ifyou use that expression with any prospective reference to Miss Cathcart, Iam master enough in my own family to insure you full possession of thepresumption. I wish you good morning. "

The angry man of war turned on his slippered heel, and was striding away. 

"One word, I beg, " said Harry. 

The colonel had too much courtesy in his nature not to stop and turn halftowards the speaker. 

"I beg to assure you, " said Harry, "that I shall continue to cherish thehope that after-thoughts will present my conduct, as well as myself, in amore favourable light to Colonel Cathcart. "

And he lifted his hat, and walked away by the gate. 

"By Jove!" said the colonel, to himself, notwithstanding the rage he wasin, "the fellow can express himself like a gentleman, anyhow. "

And so he went back to his room, where I heard him pacing about for hours. I believe he found that his better self was not to be so easily put downas he had supposed; and that that better self sided with Adela and Harry. 

CHAPTER X. 

AN UNFORESEEN FORESIGHT. 

What else is a Providence?

Harry went about his work as usual, only with a graver face. 

Adela looked very sad, but without any of her old helpless and hopelessair. Her health was quite established; and she now returned all theattention her father had paid to her. --Fortunately Mrs. Cathcart had gonehome. 

"Cunning puss!" some of my readers may say; "she was trying to coax theold man out of his resolution. " But such a notion would be quite unjust tomy niece. She was more in danger of going to the other extreme, to avoidhypocrisy. But she had the divine gift of knowing what any one she lovedwas feeling and thinking; and she knew that her father was suffering, andall about it. The old man's pace grew heavier; the lines about his mouthgrew deeper; he sat at table without speaking; he ate very little, anddrank more wine. Adela's eyes followed his every action. I could see thatsometimes she was ready to rise and throw her arms about him. Often I sawin her lovely eyes that peculiar clearness of the atmosphere whichindicates the nearness of rain. And once or twice she rose and left theroom, as if to save her from an otherwise unavoidable exposure of herfeelings. 

The gloom fell upon the servants too. Beeves waited in a leaden-handedway, that showed he was determined to do his duty, although it shouldbring small pleasure with it. He took every opportunity of unburdening hisbosom to me. 

"It's just like when mis'ess died, " said he. "The very cocks walk aboutthe yard as if they had hearse-plumes in their tails. Everybody looksready to hang hisself, except you, Mr. Smith. And that's a comfort. "

The fact was, that I had very little doubt as to how it would all end. ButI would not interfere; for I saw that it would be much better for thecolonel's heart and conscience to right themselves, than that he should bepersuaded to anything, it was very hard for him. He had led his regimentto victory and glory; he had charged and captured many a gun; he haddriven the enemy out of many a boldly defended entrenchment; and was itnot hard that he could not drive the _eidolon_ of a country surgeon out ofthe bosom of his little girl? (It was hard that he could not; but it wouldhave been a deal harder if he could). He had nursed and loved, and pettedand spoiled her. And she _would_ care for a man whom he disliked!

But here the old man was mistaken. He did not dislike Harry Armstrong. He admired and honoured him. He almost loved him for his gallant devotionto his duty. He would have been proud of him for a son--but not for ason-in-law. He would not have minded adopting him, or doing anything _but_giving him Adela. There was a great deal of pride left in the old soldier, and that must be taken out of him. We shall all have to thank God for thewhip of scorpions which, if needful, will do its part to drive us into thekingdom of heaven. 

"How happy the dear old man will be, " I said to myself, "when he justyields this last castle of selfishness, and walks unhoused into the newchildhood, of which God takes care!"

And this end came sooner than I had looked for it. 

I had made up my mind that it would be better for me to go. 

When I told Adela that I must go, she gave me a look in which lay thewhole story in light and in tears. I answered with a pressure of her handand an old uncle's kiss. But no word was spoken on the subject. 

I had a final cigar with the curate, and another with the schoolmaster;bade them and their wives good-bye; told them all would come right if weonly had patience, and then went to Harry. But he was in the country, andI thought I should not see him again. 

With the assistance of good Beeves, I got my portmanteau packed thatnight. I was going to start about ten o'clock next morning. It was longbefore I got to sleep, and I heard the step of the colonel, whose room wasbelow mine on the drawing-room floor, going up and down, up and down, allthe time, till slumber came at last, and muffled me up. --We met atbreakfast, a party lugubrious enough. Beeves waited like a mute; thecolonel ate his breakfast like an offended parent; Adela trifled with herslike one who had other things to think about; and I ate mine like aparting guest who was being anything but sped. When the postbag wasbrought in, the colonel unlocked it mechanically; distributed the letters;opened one with indifference, read a few lines, and with a groan fell backin his chair. We started up, and laid him on the sofa. With the privilegeof an old friend, I glanced at the letter, and found that a certainspeculation in which the colonel had ventured largely, had utterly failed. I told Adela enough to satisfy her as to the nature of the misfortune. Wefeared apoplexy, but before we could send for any medical man, he openedhis eyes, and called Adela. He clasped her to his bosom, and then tried torise; but fell back helpless. 

"Shall we send for Dr. Wade?" said Adela, trembling and pale as death. 

"Dr. Wade!" faltered the old man, with a perceptible accent of scorn. 

"Which shall we send for?" I said. 

"How can you ask?" he answered, feebly. "Harry Armstrong, of course. "

The blood rushed into Adela's white face, and Beeves rushed out of theroom. In a quarter of an hour, Harry was with us. Adela had retired. Hemade a few inquiries, administered some medicine he had brought with him, and, giving orders that he should not be disturbed for a couple of hours, left him with the injunction to keep perfectly quiet. 

"Take my traps up to my room again, Beeves: and tell the coach-man hewon't be wanted this morning. "

"Thank you, sir, " said Beeves. "I don't know what we should do withoutyou, sir. "

When Harry returned, we carried the colonel up to his own room, and Beevesgot him to bed. I said something about a nurse, but Harry said there wasno one so fit to nurse him as Adela. The poor man had never been illbefore; and I daresay he would have been very rebellious, had he not had agreat trouble at his heart to quiet him. He was as submissive as could bedesired. 

I felt sure he would be better as soon as he had told Adela. I gave Harrya hint of the matter, and he looked very much as if he would shout "Oh, jolly!" but he did not. 

Towards the evening, the colonel called his daughter to his bedside, andsaid, "Addie, darling, I have hurt you dreadfully. "

"Oh, no! dear papa; you have not. And it is so easy to put it all right, you know, " she added, turning her head away a little. 

"No, my child, " he said in a tone full of self-reproach, "nobody can putit right. I have made us both beggars, Addie, my love. "

"Well, dearest papa, you can bear a little poverty surely?"

"It's not of myself I am thinking, my darling. Don't do me that injustice, or I shall behave like a fool. It's only you I am thinking of. "

"Oh, is that all, papa? Do you know that, if it were not for your sake, Icould sing a song about it!"

"Ah! you don't know what you make so light of. Poverty is not so easy toendure. "

"Papa, " said Adela, solemnly, "if you knew how awful things looked to mea little while ago--but it's all gone now!--the whole earth black andfrozen to the heart, with no God in it, and nothing worth living for--youwould not wonder that I take the prospect of poverty with absoluteindifference--yes, if you will believe me, with something of a strangeexcitement. There will be something to battle with and beat. "

And she stretched out a strong, beautiful white arm--from which the looseopen sleeve fell back, as if with that weapon of might she would strikepoverty to the earth; but it was only to adjust the pillow, which hadslipped sideways from the loved head. 

"But Mr. Armstrong will not want to marry you now, Addie. "

"Oh, won't he?" thought Adela; or at least I think she thought so. But shesaid, rather demurely, and very shyly:

"But that won't be any worse than it was before; for you know you wouldnever have let me marry him anyhow. "

"Oh! yes, I would, in time, Adela. I am not such a brute as you take mefor. "

"Oh! you dear darling papa!" cried the poor child, and burst into tears, with her head on her father's bosom. And he began comforting her sosweetly, that you would have thought she had lost everything, and he wasgoing to give her all back again. 

"Papa! papa!" she cried, "I will work for you; I will be your servant; Iwill love you and love you to all eternity. I won't leave you. I won'tindeed. What _does_ it matter for the money!"

At this moment the doctor entered. 

"Ah!" he said, "this won't do at all. I thought you would have made abetter nurse, Miss Adela. There you are, both crying together!"

"Indeed, Mr. Henry, " said Adela, rather comically, "it's not my fault. Hewould cry. "

And as she spoke she wiped away her own tears. 

"But he's looking much better, after all, " said Harry. "Allow me to feelyour pulse. "

The patient was pronounced much better; fresh orders were given; and Harrytook his leave. 

But Adela felt vexed. She did not consider that he knew nothing of whathad passed between her father and her. To the warm fire-side of herknowledge, he came in wintry and cold. Of course it would never do for thedoctor to aggravate his patient's symptoms by making love to his daughter;but ought he not to have seen that it was all right between them now?--Howoften we feel and act as if our mood were the atmosphere of the world! Itmay be a cold frost within us, when our friend is in the glow of a summersunset: and we call him unsympathetic and unfeeling. If we let him knowthe state of our world, we should see the rosehues fade from his, and ourfriend put off his singing robes, and sit down with us in sackcloth andashes, to share our temptation and grief. 

"You see I cannot offer you to him now, Adela, " said her father. 

"No, papa. "

But I knew that all had come right, although I saw from Adela's mannerthat she was not happy about it. 

So things went on for a week, during which the colonel was slowly mending. I used to read him to sleep. Adela would sit by the fire, or by thebedside, and go and come while I was reading. 

One afternoon, in the twilight, Harry entered. We greeted; and then, turning to the bed, I discovered that my friend was asleep. We drewtowards the fire, and sat down. Adela had gone out of the room a fewminutes before. 

"He is such a manageable patient!" I said. 

"Noble old fellow!" returned the doctor. "I wish he would like me, andthen all would be well. "

"He doesn't dislike you personally, " I said. 

"I hope not. I can understand his displeasure perfectly, and repugnancetoo. But I assure you, Mr. Smith, I did not lay myself out to gain heraffections. I was caught myself before I knew. And I believe she liked metoo before she knew. "

"I fear their means will be very limited after this. "

"For his sake I am very sorry to hear it; but for my own, I cannot helpthinking it the luckiest thing that could have happened. "

"I am not so sure of that. It might increase the difficulty. "

At this moment I thought I heard the handle of the door move, but therewas a screen between us and it. I went on. 

"That is, if you still want to marry her, you know. "

"Marry her!" he said. "If she were a beggar-maid, I would be proud as KingCophetua to marry her to-morrow. "

There was a rustle in the twilight, and a motion of its gloom. With aquick gliding, Adela drew near, knelt beside Harry, and hid her eyes onhis knee. I thought it better to go. 

Was this unmaidenly of her?

I say "No, for she knew that he loved her. "

As I left the room, I heard the colonel call--

"Adela. "

And when I returned, I found them both standing by the bedside, and theold man holding a hand of each. 

"Now, John Smith, " I said to myself, "you may go when you please. "

Before we, that is, I and my reader, part, however, my reader may beinclined to address me thus:

"Pray, Mr. Smith, do you think it was your wonderful prescription ofstory-telling, that wrought Miss Cathcart's cure?"

"How can I tell?" I answer. "Probably it had its share. But there wereother things to take into the account. If you went on to ask me whether itwas not Harry's prescriptions; or whether it was not the curate's sermons;or whether it was not her falling in love with the doctor; or whether evenher father's illness and the loss of their property had not something todo with it; or whether it was not the doctor's falling in love with her;or that the cold weather suited her; I should reply in the same way toevery one of the interrogatories. "

But I retort another question:

"Did you ever know anything whatever resulting from the operation of oneseparable cause?"

In regard to any good attempt I have ever made in my life, I am content toknow that the end has been gained. Whether _I_ have succeeded or not is ofno consequence, if I have tried well. --In the present case, Adelarecovered; and my own conviction is, that the cure was effected mainlyfrom within. Except in physics, we can put nothing to the _experimentumcrucis_, and must be content with conjecture and probability. 

The night before I left, I had a strange dream. I stood in a lonelycemetery in a pine-forest. Dark trees that never shed their foliage roseall around--strange trees that mourn for ever, because they never die. Thedream light that has no visible source, because it is in the soul thatdreams, showed all in a dim blue-grey dawn, that never grew clearer. Thenight wind was the only power abroad save myself. It went with slowintermitting, sigh-like gusts, through the tops of the dreaming trees; forthe trees seemed, in the midst of my dream, to have dreams of their own. 

Now this burial-place was mine. I had tended it for years. In it lay allthe men and women whom I had honoured and loved. 

And I was a great sculptor. And over every grave I had placed a marblealtar, and upon every altar the marble bust of the man or woman who laybeneath; each in the supreme beauty which all the defects of birth and oftime and of incompleteness, could not hide from the eye of the propheticsculptor. Each was like a half-risen glorified form of the being who hadthere descended into the realms of Hades. And through these glimmeringrows of the dead I walked in the dream-light; and from one to another Iwent in the glory of having known and loved them; now weeping sad tearsover the loss of the beautiful; now rejoicing in the strength of themighty; now exulting in the love and truth which would yet dawn upon mewhen I too should go down beneath the visible, and emerge in the realms ofthe actual and the unseen? All the time I was sensible of a wondrouselevation of being, a glory of life and feeling hitherto unknown to me. 

I had entered the secret places of my own hidden world by the gate ofsleep, and walked about them in my dream. 

Gradually I became aware that a foreign sound was mingling with thesighing of the tree-tops overhead. It grew and grew, till I recognized thesound of wheels--not of heavenly chariots, but of earthly motion andbusiness. I heard them stop at the lofty gates of my holy place, and bytwoes and threes, or in solitary singleness, came people into my garden ofthe dead. And who should they be but the buried ones?--all those whosemarble busts stood in ghostly silence, within the shadows of theeverlasting pines? And they talked and laughed and jested. And mycity of the dead melted away. And lo! we stood in the midst of a greatmarket-place; and I knew it to be the market-place in which the childrenhad sat who said to the other children:

"We have piped unto you, and ye have not danced; we have mourned unto you, and ye have not lamented. "

And to my misery, I saw that the faces of my fathers and brothers, mymothers and sisters, had not grown nobler in the country of the dead, inwhich I had thought them safe and shining. Cares, as of this world, had sosettled upon them, that I could hardly recognize the old likeness; and thedim forms of the ideal glory which I had reproduced in my marble busts, had vanished altogether. Ah me! my world of the dead! my city oftreasures, hid away under the locks and bars of the unchangeable! Wasthere then no world of realities?--only a Vanity Fair after all? Theglorious women went sweeping about, smiling and talking, and buying andadorning, but they were glorious no longer; for they had common thoughts, and common beauties, and common language and aims and hopes; andeverything was common about them. And ever and anon, with a kind ofshiver, as if to keep alive my misery by the sight of my own dreams, themarble busts would glimmer out, faintly visible amidst the fair, as ifabout to reappear, and, dispossessing the vacuity of folly, assert thenoble and the true, and give me back my dead to love and worship oncemore, in the loneliness of the pine-forest. Side by side with a greedyhuman face, would shimmer out for a moment the ghostly marble face; andthe contrast all but drove me mad with perplexity and misery. 

"Alas!" I cried, "where is my future? Where is my beautiful death?"

All at once I saw the face of a man who went round and round the skirts ofthe market, and looked earnestly in amongst the busy idlers. He was headand shoulders taller than any there; and his face was a pale face, with aninfinite future in it, visible in all its grief. I made my way through thecrowd, which regarded me with a look which I could not understand, andcame to the stranger. I threw myself at his feet and sobbed: "I have lostthem all. I will follow thee. " He took me by the hand, and led me back. Wewalked up and down the fair together. And as we walked, the tumultlessened, and lessened. They made a path for us to go, and all eyes wereturned upon my guide. The tumult sank, and all was still. Men and womenstood in silent rows. My guide looked upon them all, on the right and onthe left. And they all looked on him till their eyes filled with tears. And the old faces of my friends grew slowly out of the worldly faces, until at length they were such as I had known of yore. 

Suddenly they all fell upon their knees, and their faces changed into thelikeness of my marble faces. Then my guide waved his hand--and lo! we werein the midst of my garden of the dead; and the wind was like the sound ofa going in the tops of the pine trees; and my white marbles glimmeredglorified on the altars of the tombs. And the dream vanished, and I cameawake. 

And I will not say here whose face the face of my guide was like. 

THE END.