PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE

By Charles Reade

"I will frame a work of fiction upon notorious fact, so that anybodyshall think he can do the same; shall labor and toil attemptingthe same, and fail--such is the power of sequence and connection inwriting. "--HORACE: Art of Poetry. 

CHAPTER I. 

Hillsborough and its outlying suburbs make bricks by the million, spinand weave both wool and cotton, forge in steel from the finest needle upto a ship's armor, and so add considerably to the kingdom's wealth. 

But industry so vast, working by steam on a limited space, has beenfatal to beauty: Hillsborough, though built on one of the loveliestsites in England, is perhaps the most hideous town in creation. All upsand down and back slums. Not one of its wriggling, broken-backed streetshas handsome shops in an unbroken row. Houses seem to have battled inthe air, and stuck wherever they tumbled down dead out of the melee. Butworst of all, the city is pockmarked with public-houses, and bristleswith high round chimneys. These are not confined to a locality, butstuck all over the place like cloves in an orange. They defy the law, and belch forth massy volumes of black smoke, that hang like acres ofcrape over the place, and veil the sun and the blue sky even in thebrightest day. But in a fog--why, the air of Hillsborough looks a thingto plow, if you want a dirty job. 

More than one crystal stream runs sparkling down the valleys, andenters the town; but they soon get defiled, and creep through it heavilycharged with dyes, clogged with putridity, and bubbling with poisonousgases, till at last they turn to mere ink, stink, and malaria, andpeople the churchyards as they crawl. 

This infernal city, whose water is blacking, and whose air is coal, liesin a basin of delight and beauty: noble slopes, broad valleys, wateredby rivers and brooks of singular beauty, and fringed by fair woods inplaces; and, eastward, the hills rise into mountains, and amongst themtowers Cairnhope, striped with silver rills, and violet in the settingsun. 

Cairnhope is a forked mountain, with a bosom of purple heather and acraggy head. Between its forks stood, at the period of my story, a greatcuriosity; which merits description on its own account, and also as thescene of curious incidents to come. 

It was a deserted church. The walls were pierced with arrow-slits, through which the original worshipers had sent many a deadly shaft indefense of their women and cattle, collected within the sacred edificeat the first news of marauders coming. 

Built up among the heathery hills in times of war and trouble, it hadoutlived its uses. Its people had long ago gone down into the fruitfulvalley, and raised another church in their midst, and left this oldhouse of God alone, and silent as the tombs of their forefathers thatlay around it. 

It was no ruin, though on the road to decay. One of the side walls wasmuch lower than the other, and the roof had two great waves, and washeavily clothed, in natural patterns, with velvet moss, and sprinkledall over with bright amber lichen: a few tiles had slipped off in twoplaces, and showed the rafters brown with time and weather: but thestructure was solid and sound; the fallen tiles lay undisturbed beneaththe eaves; not a brick, not a beam, not a gravestone had been stolen, not even to build the new church: of the diamond panes full halfremained; the stone font was still in its place, with its Gothic cover, richly carved; and four brasses reposed in the chancel, one of themloose in its bed. 

What had caused the church to be deserted had kept it from beingdesecrated; it was clean out of the way. No gypsy, nor vagrant, everslept there, and even the boys of the village kept their distance. Nothing would have pleased them better than to break the sacred windowstime had spared, and defile the graves of their forefathers withpitch-farthing and other arts; but it was three miles off, and there wasa lion in the way: they must pass in sight of Squire Raby's house; and, whenever they had tried it, he and his groom had followed them onswift horses that could jump as well as gallop, had caught them in thechurchyard, and lashed them heartily; and the same night notice to quithad been given to their parents, who were all Mr. Raby's weekly tenants:and this had led to a compromise and flagellation. 

Once or twice every summer a more insidious foe approached. Some littleparty of tourists, including a lady, who sketched in water and neverfinished anything, would hear of the old church, and wander up to it. But Mr. Raby's trusty groom was sure to be after them, with ordersto keep by them, under guise of friendship, and tell them outrageousfigments, and see that they demolished not, stole not, sculptured not. 

All this was odd enough in itself, but it astonished nobody who knew Mr. Raby. His father and predecessor had guarded the old church religiouslyin his day, and was buried in it, by his own orders; and, as for GuyRaby himself, what wonder he respected it, since his own mind, like thatold church, was out of date, and a relic of the past?

An antique Tory squire, nursed in expiring Jacobitism, and cradled inthe pride of race; educated at Oxford, well read in books, versed incounty business, and acquainted with trade and commerce; yet puffed upwith aristocratic notions, and hugging the very prejudices our nobilityare getting rid of as fast as the vulgar will let them. 

He had a sovereign contempt for tradespeople, and especially formanufacturers. Any one of those numerous disputes between masters andmechanics, which distinguish British industry, might have been safelyreferred to him, for he abhorred and despised them both with strictimpartiality. 

The lingering beams of a bright December day still gilded the moss-cladroof of that deserted church, and flamed on its broken panes, when ayoung man came galloping toward it, from Hillsborough, on one of thosepowerful horses common in that district. 

He came so swiftly and so direct, that, ere the sun had been down twentyminutes, he and his smoking horse had reached a winding gorge aboutthree furlongs from the church. Here, however, the bridle-road, whichhad hitherto served his turn across the moor, turned off sharplytoward the village of Cairnhope, and the horse had to pick his wayover heather, and bog, and great loose stones. He lowered his nose, andhesitated more than once. But the rein was loose upon his neck, and hewas left to take his time. He had also his own tracks to guide him inplaces, for this was by no means his first visit; and he managed sowell, that at last he got safe to a mountain stream which gurgled pastthe north side of the churchyard: he went cautiously through the water, and then his rider gathered up the reins, stuck in the spurs, and puthim at a part of the wall where the moonlight showed a considerablebreach. The good horse rose to it, and cleared it, with a foot to spare;and the invader landed in the sacred precincts unobserved, for theroad he had come by was not visible from Raby House, nor indeed was thechurch itself. 

He was of swarthy complexion, dressed in a plain suit of tweed, wellmade, and neither new nor old. His hat was of the newest fashion, andglossy. He had no gloves on. 

He dismounted, and led his horse to the porch. He took from his pocket alarge glittering key and unlocked the church-door; then gave his horsea smack on the quarter. That sagacious animal walked into the churchdirectly, and his iron hoofs rang strangely as he paced over the brickfloor of the aisle, and made his way under the echoing vault, up tothe very altar; for near it was the vestry-chest, and in that chest hiscorn. 

The young man also entered the church; but soon came out again witha leathern bucket in his hand. He then went round the church, and wasbusily employed for a considerable time. 

He returned to the porch, carried his bucket in, and locked the door, leaving the key inside. 

That night Abel Eaves, a shepherd, was led by his dog, in search of astrayed sheep, to a place rarely trodden by the foot of man or beast, viz. , the west side of Cairnhope Peak. He came home pale and disturbed, and sat by the fireside in dead silence. "What ails thee, my man?" saidJanet, his wife; "and there's the very dog keeps a whimpering. "

"What ails us, wife? Pincher and me? We have seen summat. "

"What was it?" inquired the woman, suddenly lowering her voice. 

"Cairnhope old church all o' fire inside. "

"Bless us and save us!" said Janet, in a whisper. 

"And the fire it did come and go as if hell was a blowing at it. Onewhile the windows was a dull red like, and the next they did flare so, I thought it would all burst out in a blaze. And so 'twould, but, blessyour heart, their heads ha'n't ached this hundred year and more, aslighted that there devilish fire. "

He paused a moment, then said, with sudden gravity and resignation andeven a sort of half business-like air, "Wife, ye may make my shroud, andsew it and all; but I wouldn't buy the stuff of Bess Crummles; she is anill-tongued woman, and came near making mischief between you and me lastLammermas as ever was. "

"Shroud!" cried Mrs. Eaves, getting seriously alarmed. "Why, Abel, whatis Cairnhope old church to you? You were born in an other parish. "

Abel slapped his thigh. "Ay, lass, and another county, if ye go tothat. " And his countenance brightened suddenly. 

"And as for me, " continued Janet, "I'm Cairnhope; but my mother camefrom Morpeth, a widdy: and she lies within a hundred yards of whereI sit a talking to thee. There's none of my kin laid in old Cairnhopechurchyard. Warning's not for thee, nor me, nor yet for our Jock. Eh, lad, it will be for Squire Raby. His father lies up there, and so do allhis folk. Put on thy hat this minute, and I'll hood myself, and we'll goup to Raby Hall, and tell Squire. "

Abel objected to that, and intimated that his own fireside wasparticularly inviting to a man who had seen diabolical fires that cameand went, and shone through the very stones and mortar of a dead church. 

"Nay, but, " said Janet, "they sort o' warnings are not to be slightedneither. We must put it off on to Squire, or I shall sleep none thisnight. "

They went up, hand in hand, and often looked askant upon the road. 

When they got to the Hall, they asked to see Mr. Raby. After some demurthey were admitted to his presence, and found him alone, so far as theycould judge by the naked eye; but, as they arrived there charged tothe muzzle with superstition, the room presented to their minds someappearances at variance with this seeming solitude. Several plates wereset as if for guests, and the table groaned, and the huge sideboardblazed, with old silver. The Squire himself was in full costume, and onhis bosom gleamed two orders bestowed upon his ancestors by JamesIII. And Charles III. In other respects he was rather innocuous, beingconfined to his chair by an attack of gout, and in the act of sippingthe superannuated compound that had given it him--port. Nevertheless, his light hair, dark eyebrows, and black eyes, awed them, andco-operated with his brilliant costume and the other signs of company, to make them wish themselves at the top of Cairnhope Peak. However, theywere in for it, and told their tale, but in tremulous tones and a lowdeprecating voice, so that if the room SHOULD happen to be infested withinvisible grandees from the other world, their attention might not beroused unnecessarily. 

Mr. Raby listened with admirable gravity; then fixed his eyes on thepair, in silence; and then said in a tone so solemn it was almostsepulchral, "This very day, nearly a century and a half ago, Sir RichardRaby was beheaded for being true to his rightful king--"

"Eh, dear poor gentleman! so now a walks. " It was Janet who edged inthis--

"And, " continued the gentleman, loftily ignoring the comment, "they saythat on this night such of the Rabys as died Catholics hold high mass inthe church, and the ladies walk three times round the churchyard; twicewith their veils down, once with bare faces, and great eyes that glitterlike stars. "

"I wouldn't like to see the jades, " quavered Abel: "their ladyships Imean, axing their pardon. "

"Nor I!" said Janet, with a great shudder. 

"It would not be good for you, " suggested the Squire; "for the firstglance from those dead and glittering eyes strikes any person of thelower orders dumb, the second, blind; the third, dead. So I'm INFORMED. Therefore--LET ME ADVISE YOU NEVER TO GO NEAR CAIRNHOPE OLD CHURCH ATNIGHT. "

"Not I, sir, " said the simple woman. 

"Nor your children: unless you are very tired of them. "

"Heaven forbid, sir! But oh, sir, we thought it might be a warninglike. "

"To whom?"

"Why, sir, th' old Squire lies there; and heaps more of your folk: andso Abel here was afear'd--but you are the best judge; we be no scholars. Th' old church warn't red-hot from eend to eend for naught: that'scertain. "

"Oh it is me you came to warn?" said Raby, and his lip curled. 

"Well, sir, " (mellifluously), "we thought you had the best right toknow. "

"My good woman, " said the warned, "I shall die when my time comes. ButI shall not hurry myself, for all the gentlemen in Paradise, nor all theblackguards upon earth. "

He spake, and sipped his port with one hand, and waved them superblyback to their village with the other. 

But, when they were gone, he pondered. 

And the more he pondered, the further he got from the prosaic butsingular fact. 

CHAPTER II. 

In the old oak dining-room, where the above colloquy took place, hunga series of family portraits. One was of a lovely girl with oval face, olive complexion, and large dark tender eyes: and this was the gem ofthe whole collection; but it conferred little pleasure on the spectator, owing to a trivial circumstance--it was turned with its face to thewall; and all that met the inquiring eye was an inscription on thecanvas, not intended to be laudatory. 

This beauty, with her back to creation, was Edith Raby, Guy's sister. 

During their father's lifetime she was petted and allowed her own way. Hillsborough, odious to her brother, was, naturally, very attractive toher, and she often rode into the town to shop and chat with her friends, and often stayed a day or two in it, especially with a Mrs. Manton, wifeof a wealthy manufacturer. 

Guy merely sneered at her, her friends, and her tastes, till he suddenlydiscovered that she had formed an attachment to one of the obnoxiousclass, Mr. James Little, a great contract builder. He was too shocked atfirst to vent his anger. He turned pale, and could hardly speak; and thepoor girl's bosom began to quake. 

But Guy's opposition went no further than cold aversion to theintimacy--until his father died. Then, though but a year older thanEdith, he assumed authority and, as head of the house, forbade theconnection. At the same time he told her he should not object, under thecircumstances, to her marrying Dr. Amboyne, a rising physician, anda man of good family, who loved her sincerely, and had shown his loveplainly before ever Mr. Little was heard of. 

Edith tried to soften her brother; but he was resolute, and said RabyHall should never be an appendage to a workshop. Sooner than that, hewould settle it on his cousin Richard, a gentleman he abhorred, andnever called, either to his face or behind his back, by any other namethan "Dissolute Dick. "

Then Edith became very unhappy, and temporized more or less, till herlover, who had shown considerable forbearance, lost patience at last, and said she must either have no spirit, or no true affection for him. 

Then came a month or two of misery, the tender clinging nature of thegirl being averse to detach itself from either of these two persons. Sheloved them both with an affection she could have so easily reconciled, if they would only have allowed her. 

And it all ended according to Nature. She came of age, plucked up aspirit, and married Mr. James Little. 

Her brother declined to be present at the wedding; but, as soon as shereturned from her tour, and settled in Hillsborough, he sent his groomwith a cold, civil note, reminding her that their father had settlednineteen hundred pounds on her, for her separate use, with remainder toher children, if any; that he and Mr. Graham were the trustees of thissmall fund; that they had invested it, according to the provisions ofthe settlement, in a first mortgage on land; and informing her that halfa year's interest at 4 12 per cent was due, which it was his duty topay into her own hand and no other person's; she would therefore obligehim by receiving the inclosed check, and signing the inclosed receipt. 

The receipt came back signed, and with it a few gentle lines, "hopingthat, in time, he would forgive her, and bestow on her what she neededand valued more than money; her own brother's, her only brother'saffection. "

On receiving this, his eyes were suddenly moist, and he actuallygroaned. "A lady, every inch!" he said; "yet she has gone and married abricklayer. "

Well, blood is thicker than water, and in a few years they were prettygood friends again, though they saw but little of one another, meetingonly in Hillsborough, which Guy hated, and never drove into now withoutwhat he called his antidotes: a Bible and a bottle of lavender-water. Itwas his humor to read the one, and sprinkle the other, as soon as everhe got within the circle of the smoky trades. 

When Edith's little boy was nine years old, and much admired for hisquickness and love of learning, and of making walking-stick heads andladies' work-boxes, Mr. Little's prosperity received a severe check, andthrough his own fault. He speculated largely in building villas, overdidthe market, and got crippled. He had contracts uncompleted, and wasliable to penalties; and at last saw himself the nominal possessor of abrick wilderness, but on the verge of ruin for want of cash. 

He tried every other resource first; but at last he came to his wife, to borrow her L1900. The security he offered was a mortgage on twelvecarcasses, or houses the bare walls and roofs of which were built. 

Mrs. Little wrote at once to Mr. Raby for her money. 

Instead of lending the trust-money hastily, Raby submitted the proposalto his solicitor, and that gentleman soon discovered the vauntedsecurity was a second mortgage, with interest overdue on the first; andso he told Guy, who then merely remarked, "I expected as much. When hada tradesman any sense of honor in money matters? This one would cheathis very wife and child. "

He declined the proposal, in two words, "Rotten security!"

Then Mr. James Little found another security that looked very plausible, and primed his wife with arguments, and she implored Guy to call andtalk it over with them both. 

He came that very afternoon, and brought his father's will. 

Then Edith offered the security, and tried to convey to the trustee herfull belief that it was undeniable. 

Guy picked terrible holes in it, and read their father's will, confiningthe funds to consols, or a first mortgage on land. "You take the moneyon these conditions: it is almost as improper of you to wish to evadethem, as it would be of me to assist you. And then there is your child;I am hound in honor not to risk his little fortune. See, here's mysignature to that. "

"My child!" cried Edith. "When he comes of age, I'll go on my knees tohim and say, 'My darling, I borrowed your money to save your father'scredit. ' And my darling will throw his arms round me, and forgive me. "

"Simpleton!" said Guy. "And how about your daughters and their husbands?And their husbands' solicitors? Will they throw their arms round yourneck, and break forth into twaddle? No! I have made inquiries. Yourhusband's affairs are desperate. I won't throw your money into his well;and you will both live to thank me for seeing clearer than you do, andsaving this L1900 for you and yours. "

James Little had writhed in his chair for some time: he now cried outwildly, "Edith, you shall demean yourself no more. He always hated me: and nowlet him have his will, and seal my dishonor and my ruin. Oblige me byleaving my house, Mr. Raby. "

"Oh, no, James!" cried Edith, trembling, and shocked at thisaffront. But Guy rose like a tower. "I've noticed this trait in alltradespeople, " said he grimly. "They are obsequious to a gentleman solong as they hope to get the better of him; but, the moment they findit is impossible to overreach him, they insult him. " And with this hestalked out of the house. 

"Oh, my poor James, how could you?" said Edith. 

"Forgive me, " said he, quietly. "It is all over. That was our lastchance. "

Guy Raby walked down the street, stung to the quick. He went straight tohis solicitor and arranged to borrow L1900 on his own property. "For, "said he, "I'll show them both how little a snob can understand agentleman. I won't tamper with her son's money, but I'll give her my ownto throw into his well. Confound him! why did she ever marry him?"

When the business was virtually settled, he came back to the house ingreat haste. 

Meantime Mr. James Little went up to his dressing-room, as usual, todress for dinner; but he remained there so long that, at last, Mrs. Little sent her maid to tell him dinner was ready. 

The girl had hardly reached the top of the stairs, when she gave aterrible scream that rang through the whole house. 

Mrs. Little rushed upstairs, and found her clinging to the balusters, and pointing at the floor, with eyes protruding and full of horror. Her candle-stick had fallen from her benumbed hand; but the hall-lamprevealed what her finger was quivering and pointing at: a dark fluidtrickling slowly out into the lobby from beneath the bedroom door. 

It was blood. 

The room was burst into, and the wretched, tottering wife, hanging uponher sobbing servants, found her lover, her husband, her child's father, lying on the floor, dead by his own hand; stone dead. A terrible sightfor strangers to see; but for her, what words can even shadow the horrorof it!

I drop the veil on her wild bursts of agony, and piteous appeals to himwho could not hear her cries. 

The gaping wound that let out that precious life, her eye never ceasedto see it, nor her own heart to bleed with it, while she lived. 

She was gently dragged away, and supported down to another room. DoctorAmboyne came and did what he could for her; and that was--nothing. 

At this time she seemed stupefied. But when Guy came beaming into theroom to tell her he had got her the money, a terrible scene occurred. The bereaved wife uttered a miserable scream at sight of him, andswooned away directly. 

The maids gathered round her, laid her down, and cut her stays, and toldGuy the terrible tidings, in broken whispers, over her insensible body. 

He rose to his feet horrified. He began to gasp and sob. And he yearnedto say something to comfort her. At that moment his house, his heart, and all he had, were hers. 

But, as soon as she came to herself, and caught sight of him, shescreamed out, "Oh, the sight of him! the sight of him!" and swooned awayagain. 

Then the women pushed him out of the room, and he went away with unevensteps, and sick at heart. 

He shut himself up in Raby Hall, and felt very sad and remorseful. He directed his solicitor to render Mrs. Little every assistance, andsupply her with funds. But these good offices were respectfully declinedby Mr. Joseph Little, the brother of the deceased, who had come fromBirmingham to conduct the funeral and settle other matters. 

Mr. Joseph Little was known to be a small master-cutler, who had risenfrom a workman, and even now put blades and handles together with hisown hands, at odd times, though he had long ceased to forge or grind. 

Mr. Raby drew in haughtily at this interference. 

It soon transpired that Mr. James Little had died hopelessly insolvent, and the L1900 would really have been ingulfed. 

Raby waited for this fact to sink into his sister's mind; and then oneday nature tugged so at his heart-strings, that he dashed off a warmletter beginning--"My poor Edith, let bygones be bygones, " and invitingher and her boy to live with him at Raby Hall. 

The heart-broken widow sent back a reply, in a handwriting scarcelyrecognizable as hers. Instead of her usual precise and delicate hand, the letters were large, tremulous, and straggling, and the lines slanteddownward. 

"Write to me, speak to me, no more. For pity's sake let me forget thereis a man in the world who is my brother and his murderer. 

"EDITH. "

Guy opened this letter with a hopeful face, and turned pale as ashes atthe contents. 

But his conscience was clear, and his spirit high. "Unjust idiot!" hemuttered, and locked her letter up in his desk. 

Next morning he received a letter from Joseph Little, in a clear, stiff, perpendicular writing:

"SIR, --I find my sister-in-law wrote you, yesterday, a harsh letter, which I do not approve; and have told her as much. Deceased's affairswere irretrievable, and I blame no other man for his rash act, which mayGod forgive! As to your kind and generous invitation, it deserves hergratitude; but Mrs. Little and myself have mingled our tears togetherover my poor brother's grave, and now we do not care to part. Beforeyour esteemed favor came to hand, it had been settled she should leavethis sad neighborhood and keep my house at Birmingham, where she willmeet with due respect. I am only a small tradesman; but I can pay mydebts, and keep the pot boiling. Will teach the boy some good trade, andmake him a useful member of society, if I am spared. 

"I am, sir, yours respectfully, "JOSEPH LITTLE. "

"Sir, --I beg to acknowledge, with thanks, your respectable letter. 

"As all direct communication between Mrs. James Little and myself is atan end, oblige me with your address in Birmingham, that I may remit toyou, half-yearly, as her agent, the small sum that has escaped bricksand mortar. 

"When her son comes of age, she will probably forgive me for decliningto defraud him of his patrimony. 

"But it will be too late; for I shall never forgive her, alive or dead. 

"I am, sir, your obedient servant, "GUY RABY. "

When he had posted this letter he turned Edith's picture to the wall, and wrote on the canvas--

"GONE INTO TRADE. "

He sent for his attorney, made a new will, and bequeathed his land, houses, goods, and chattels, to Dissolute Dick and his heirs forever. 

CHAPTER III. 

The sorrowful widow was so fond of her little Henry, and the uncertaintyof life was so burnt into her now, that she could hardly bear him out ofher sight. Yet her love was of the true maternal stamp; not childish andself-indulgent. She kept him from school, for fear he should be broughthome dead to her; but she gave her own mind with zeal to educate him. Nor was she unqualified. If she had less learning than school-masters, she knew better how to communicate what she did know to a budding mind. She taught him to read fluently, and to write beautifully; and shecoaxed him, as only a woman can, over the dry elements of music andarithmetic. She also taught him dancing and deportment, and to sew ona button. He was a quick boy at nearly everything, but, when he wasfourteen, his true genius went ahead of his mere talents; he showeda heaven-born gift for--carving in wood. This pleased Joseph Littlehugely, and he fostered it judiciously. 

The boy worked, and thought, and in time arrived at such delicacies ofexecution, he became discontented with the humdrum tools then current. "Then learn to make your own, boy, " cried Joseph Little, joyfully; andso initiated him into the whole mystery of hardening, forging, grinding, handle-making, and cutlery: and Henry, young and enthusiastic, took histurn at them all in right down earnest. 

At twenty, he had sold many a piece of delicate carving, and could makegraving-tools incomparably superior to any he could buy; and, for hisage, was an accomplished mechanic. 

Joseph Little went the way of all flesh. 

They mourned and missed him; and, at Henry's earnest request, his motherdisposed of the plant, and went with him to London. 

Then the battle of life began. He was a long time out of employment, andthey both lived on his mother's little fortune. 

But Henry was never idle. He set up a little forge hard by, and workedat it by day, and at night he would often sit carving, while his motherread to him, and said he, "Mother, I'll never rest till I can carve thebloom upon a plum. "

Not to dwell on the process, the final result was this. He rose at lastto eminence as a carver: but as an inventor and forger of carving toolshe had no rival in England. 

Having with great labor, patience, and skill, completed a masterpiece ofcarving (there were plums with the bloom on, and other incredibles), and also a set of carving-tools equally exquisite in their way, he got apopular tradesman to exhibit both the work and the tools in his window, on a huge silver salver. 

The thing made a good deal of noise in the trade, and drew manyspectators to the shop window. 

One day Mr. Cheetham, a master-cutler, stood in admiration before thetools, and saw his way to coin the workman. 

This Cheetham was an able man, and said to himself, "I'll nail him forHillsborough, directly. London mustn't have a hand that can beat us atanything in our line. "

He found Henry out, and offered him constant employment, as a forger andcutler of carving-tools, at L4 per week. 

Henry's black eyes sparkled, but he restrained himself. "That's to bethought of. I must speak to my old lady. She is not at home just now. "

He did speak to her, and she put her two hands together and said, "Hillsborough! Oh Henry!" and the tears stood in her eyes directly. 

"Well, don't fret, " said he: "it is only saying no. "

So when Mr. Cheetham called again for the reply, Henry declined, withthanks. On this, Mr. Cheetham never moved, but smiled, and offered himL6 per week, and his journey free. 

Henry went into another room, and argued the matter. "Come, mother, heis up to L6 a week now; and that is every shilling I'm worth; and, whenI get an apprentice, it will be L9 clear to us. "

"The sight of the place!" objected Mrs. Little, hiding her face in herhands instinctively. 

He kissed her, and talked good manly sense to her, and begged her tohave more courage. 

She was little able to deny him, and she consented; but cried, out ofhis sight, a good many times about it. 

As for Henry, strong in the consciousness of power and skill, he feltglad he was going to Hillsborough. "Many a workman has risen to thetop of the tree in that place, " said he. "Why, this very Cheetham wasgrinding saws in a water-wheel ten years ago, I've heard uncle Joe say. Come, mother, don't you be a baby! I'll settle you in a cottage outsidethe smoke; you shall make a palace of it; and we'll rise in the verytown where we fell, and friends and foes shall see us. "

Mr. Cheetham purchased both the carving and the tools to exhibit inHillsborough; and the purchase-money, less a heavy commission, was paidto Henry. He showed Mrs. Little thirty pounds, and helped her pack up;and next day they reached Hillsborough by train. 

Henry took a close cab, and carried his mother off to the suburbs insearch of a lodging. She wore a thick veil, and laid her head on herson's shoulder, and held his brown though elegant hand with her whitefingers, that quivered a little as she passed through the well-knownstreets. 

As for Henry, he felt quite triumphant and grand, and consoled her in anoff-hand, hearty way. "Come, cheer up, and face the music. They have allforgotten you by this time, and, when they do see you again, you shallbe as good as the best of them. I don't drink, and I've got a trade allto myself here, and I'd rather make my fortune in this town than anyother; and, mother, you have been a good friend to me; I won't evermarry till I have done you justice, and made you the queen of this verytown. "

And so he rattled on, in such high spirits, that the great soft thingbegan to smile with motherly love and pride through her tears, ere theyfound a lodging. 

Next day to the works, and there the foreman showed him a small forge onthe ground floor, and a vacant room above to make his handles in and putthe tools together; the blades were to be ground, whetted, and finishedby cheaper hands. 

A quick-eared grinder soon came up to them, and said roughly, "Ain't weto wet new forge?"

"They want their drink out of you, " said the foreman; and whispered, ingreat anxiety, "Don't say no, or you might as well work in a wasp's nestas here. "

"All right, " said Henry, cheerfully. "I'm no drinker myself, but I'llstand what is customary. "

"That is right, " said Foreman Bayne. "'Twill cost you fifteen shillings. But Peace is cheap at as many guineas. "

The word was given, and every man who worked on the same floor withHenry turned out to drink at his expense, and left off work for a goodhour. With some exceptions they were a rough lot, and showed littlefriendliness or good-humor over it. One even threw out a hint that nocockney forges were wanted in Hillsborough. But another took him up, andsaid, "Maybe not; but you are not much of a man to drink his liquor andgrudge him his bread. "

After this waste of time and money, Henry went back to the works, and aworkman told him rather sulkily, he was wanted in the foreman's office. 

He went in, and there was a lovely girl of eighteen, who looked at himwith undisguised curiosity, and addressed him thus: "Sir, is it you thatcarve wood so beautifully?"

Henry blushed, and hesitated; and that made the young lady blush herselfa very little, and she said, "I wished to take lessons in carving. "Then, as he did not reply, she turned to Mr. Bayne. "But perhaps heobjects to teach other people?"

"WE should object to his teaching other workmen, " said the foreman;"but, " turning to Henry, "there is no harm in your giving her a lessonor two, after hours. You will want a set of the tools, miss?"

"Of course I shall. Please put them into the carriage; and--when will hecome and teach me, I wonder? for I am wild to begin. "

Henry said he could come Saturday afternoon, or Monday morning early. 

"Whichever you please, " said the lady, and put down her card on thedesk; then tripped away to her carriage, leaving Henry charmed with herbeauty and ease. 

He went home to his mother, and told her he was to give lessons to thehandsomest young lady he had ever seen. "She has bought the specimentools too; so I must forge some more, and lose no time about it. "

"Who is she, I wonder?"

"Here is her card. 'Miss Carden, Woodbine Villa, Heath Hill. '"

"Carden!" said the widow. Then, after a moment's thought, "Oh, Henry, don't go near them. Ah, I knew how it would be. Hillsborough is not likeLondon. You can't be long hid in it. "

"Why, what is the matter? Do you know the lady?"

"Oh, yes. Her papa is director of an insurance company in London. Iremember her being born very well. The very day she was christened--hername is Grace--you were six years old, and I took you to herchristening; and oh, Harry, my brother is her godfather. Don't yougo near that Grace Carden; don't visit any one that knew us in betterdays. "

"Why, what have we to be ashamed of?" said Henry. "'Tisn't as if wesat twiddling our thumbs and howling, 'We have seen better days. ' And'tisn't as if we asked favors of anybody. For my part I don't care whoknows I am here, and can make three hundred a year with my own handsand wrong no man. I'd rather be a good workman in wood and steel than anarrogant old fool like your b--. No, I won't own him for yours or mineeither--call him Raby. Well, I wouldn't change places with him, nor anyof his sort: I'm a British workman, and worth a dozen Rabys--uselessscum!"

"That you are, dear; so don't demean yourself to give any of themlessons. Her godfather would be sure to hear of it. "

"Well, I won't, to please you. But you have no more pluck than achicken--begging your pardon, mother. "

"No, dear, " said Mrs. Little, humbly, quite content to gain her pointand lose her reputation for pluck; if any. 

Henry worked regularly, and fast, and well, and in less than a fortnighta new set of his carving-tools were on view in Hillsborough, and anotherin London; for it was part of Mr. Cheetham's strategy to get allthe London orders, and even make London believe that these superiorinstruments had originated in Hillsborough. 

One day Miss Carden called and saw Bayne in the office. Her vividfeatures wore an expression of vexation, and she complained to him thatthe wood-carver had never been near her. 

Bayne was surprised at that; but he was a man who always allayedirritation on the spot. "Rely on it, there's some reason, " said he. "Perhaps he has not got settled. I'll go for him directly. "

"Thank you, " said the young lady. Then in the same breath, "No, take meto him, and perhaps we may catch him carving--cross thing!"

Bayne assented cheerfully, and led the way across a yard, and up adirty stone stair, which, solid as it was, vibrated with the powerfulmachinery that steam was driving on every side of it. He opened a doorsuddenly, and Henry looked up from his work, and saw the invaders. 

He stared a little at first, and then got up and looked embarrassed andconfused. 

"You did not keep your word, sir, " said Grace, quietly. 

"No, " he muttered, and hung his head. 

He seemed so confused and ashamed, that Bayne came to his assistance. "The fact is, no workman likes to do a hand's-turn on Saturdayafternoon. I think they would rather break Sunday than Saturday. "

"It is not that, " said Henry, in a low voice. 

Grace heard him, but answered Mr. Bayne: "Oh dear, I wish I had known. Ifear I have made an unreasonable request: for, of course, after workingso hard all the week--but then why did you let me purchase the tools tocarve with? Papa says they are very dear, Mr. Bayne. But that is whatgentlemen always say if one buys anything that is really good. But ofcourse they WILL be dear, if I am not to be taught how to use them. "She then looked in Mr. Bayne's face with an air of infantine simplicity:"Would Mr. Cheetham take them back, I wonder, under the circumstances?"

At this sly thrust, Bayne began to look anxious; but Henry relieved himthe next moment by saying, in a sort of dogged way, "There, there; I'llcome. " He added, after a pause, "I will give you six lessons, if youlike. "

"I shall be so much obliged. When will you come, sir?"

"Next Saturday, at three o'clock. "

"I shall be sure to be at home, sir. "

She then said something polite about not disturbing him further, andvanished with an arch smile of pleasure and victory, that disclosed arow of exquisite white teeth, and haunted Henry Little for many a dayafter. 

He told his mother what had happened, and showed so much mortified pridethat she no longer dissuaded him from keeping his word. "Only pray don'ttell her your name, " said she. 

"Well, but what am I to do if she asks it?"

"Say Thompson, or Johnson, or anything you like, except Little. "

This request roused Henry's bile. "What, am I a criminal to deny myname? And how shall I look, if I go and give her a false name, and thenshe comes to Bayne and learns my right one? No, I'll keep my name back, if I can; but I'll never disown it. I'm not ashamed of it, if you are. "

This reduced poor Mrs. Little to silence; followed, in due course, by afew meek, clandestine tears. 

Henry put on his new tweed suit and hat, and went up to the villa. Heannounced himself as the workman from Cheetham's; and the footman, whohad probably his orders, ushered him into the drawing-room at once. There he found Grace Carden seated, reading, and a young woman sewing ata respectful distance. This pair were types; Grace, of a young Englishgentlewoman, and Jael Dence of a villager by unbroken descent. Grace wastall, supple, and serpentine, yet not thin; Jael was robust and ample, without being fat; she was of the same height, though Grace looked thetaller. Grace had dark brown eyes and light brown hair; and her bloomingcheek and bewitching mouth shone with expression so varied, yet vivid, and always appropriate to the occasion, grave or gay, playful ordignified, that her countenance made artificial faces, and gigglingin-the-wrong-place faces, painfully ridiculous. As for such faces asJael's, it killed them on the spot, but that was all. Jael's hair wasreddish, and her full eyes were gray; she was freckled a little underthe eyes, but the rest of her cheek full of rich pure color, healthy, but not the least coarse: and her neck an alabaster column. Hers was ameek, monotonous countenance; but with a certain look of concentration. Altogether, a humble beauty of the old rural type; healthy, cleanly, simple, candid, yet demure. 

Henry came in, and the young lady received him with a manner verydifferent from that she had worn down at the works. She was polite, butrather stiff and dignified. 

He sat down at her request, and, wondering at himself, entered on theoffice of preceptor. He took up the carving-tools, and explained the useof several; then offered, by way of illustration, to work on something. 

"That will be the best way, much, " said Grace quietly, but her eyesparkled. 

"I dare say there's some lumber to be found in a great house like this?"

"Lumber? why, there's a large garret devoted to it. Jael, please takehim to the lumber-room. "

Jael fixed her needle in her work, and laid it down gently on a tablenear her, then rose and led the way to the lumber-room. 

In that invaluable repository Henry soon found two old knobs lying onthe ground (a four-poster had been wrecked hard by) and a piece of dealplank jutting out of a mass of things. He pulled hard at the plank; butit was long, and so jammed in by miscellaneous articles, that he couldnot get it clear. 

Jael looked on demurely at his efforts for some time; then she suddenlyseized the plank a little higher up. "Now, pull, " said she, and gavea tug like a young elephant: out came the plank directly, with a greatrattle of dislocated lumber. 

"Well, you are a strong one, " said Henry. 

"Oh, one and one makes two, sir, " replied the vigorous damsel, modestly. 

"That is true, but you threw your weight into it like a workman. Nowhand me that rusty old saw, and I'll cut off as much as we want. "

While he was sawing off a piece of the plank, Jael stood and eyed himsilently a while. But presently her curiosity oozed out. "If you please, sir, be you really a working man?"

"Why, what else should I be?" was the answer, given rather brusquely. 

"A great many gentlefolks comes here as is no better dressed nor yoube. "

"Dress is no rule. Don't you go and take me for a gentleman, or wesha'n't agree. Wait till I'm as arrogant, and empty, and lazy as theyare. I am a workman, and proud of it. "

"It's naught to be ashamed on, that's certain, " said Jael. "I've carriedmany a sack of grain up into our granary, and made a few hundred-weightof cheese and butter, besides house-work and farm-work. Bless yourheart, I bayn't idle when I be at home. "

"And pray where is your home?" asked Henry, looking up a moment, notthat he cared one straw. 

"If you please, sir, I do come from Cairnhope village. I'm old NatDence's daughter. There's two of us, and I'm the youngest. Squire sentme in here, because miss said Hillsborough girls wasn't altogetherhonest. She is a dear kind young lady; but I do pine for home and thefarm at times; and frets about the young calves: they want so muchlooking after. And sister, she's a-courting, and can't give her mind to'em as should be. I'll carry the board for you, sir. "

"All right, " said Henry carelessly; but, as they went along, he thoughtto himself, "So a skilled workman passes for a gentleman with rustics:fancy that!"

On their return to the drawing-room, Henry asked for a high woodenstool, or chair, and said it would be as well to pin some newspapersover the carpet. A high stool was soon got from the kitchen, andJael went promptly down on her knees, and crawled about, pinning thenewspapers in a large square. 

Henry stood apart, superior, and thought to himself, "So much fordomestic servitude. What a position for a handsome girl--creeping abouton all fours!"

When all was ready, he drew some arabesque forms with his pencil on theboard. He then took an exquisite little saw he had invented for thiswork, and fell upon the board with a rapidity that, contrasted withhis previous nonchalance, looked like fury. But he was one of your fastworkmen. The lithe saw seemed to twist in his hand like a serpent, and in a very short time he had turned four feet of the board intoopen-work. He finished the edges off with his cutting tools, and therewas a transformation as complete as of linen cloth turned lace. 

Grace was delighted. "Shall I ever be able to do that?"

"In half a day. That's not carving; that's trickery. The tool does itall. Before I invented this saw, a good workman would have been a dayover that; but now YOU can do it in half an hour, when you are master ofthe instrument. And now I'll show you honest work. " He took one of theknobs and examined it; then sawed off a piece, and worked on the restso cunningly with his various cutters, that it grew into a human facetoward their very eyes. He even indicated Jael Dence's little flat capby a means at once simple and ingenious. All the time he was working thewomen's eyes literally absorbed him; only those of Grace flashed vividcuriosity, Jael's open orbs were fixed with admiration and awe upon hissupernatural cleverness. 

He now drew some more arabesques on the remaining part of the board, and told Miss Carden she must follow those outlines with the saw, and hewould examine her work on Monday morning. He then went off with a quick, independent air, as one whose every minute was gold. 

"If you please, miss, " said Jael, "is he a real working man, or only agentleman as makes it his pastime?"

"A gentleman! What an idea! Of course he is a working man. But a verysuperior person. "

"To be sure, " continued Jael, not quite convinced, "he don't come up toSquire Raby; but, dear heart, he have a grander way with him than mostof the Hillsborough gentlefolks as calls here. "

"Nonsense!" said Grace, authoritatively. "Look at his nails. "

Henry came twice a week, and his pupil made remarkable progress. She wasdeferential, attentive, enthusiastic. 

By degrees the work led to a little conversation; and that, in duecourse, expanded into a variety of subjects; and the young lady, toher surprise, found her carver well-read in History and Sciences, andseverely accurate in his information, whereas her own, though abundant, was rather loose. 

One day she expressed her surprise that he could have found time to beso clever with his fingers and yet cultivate his mind. 

"Well, " said he, "I was lucky enough to have a good mother. She taughtme all she knew, and she gave me a taste for reading; and that has beenthe making of me; kept me out of the public-house, for one thing. "

"Ah! you WERE fortunate. I lost my mother, sir, when I was but eightyears old. "

"Oh dear, that was a bad job, " said Henry brusquely but kindly. 

"A very bad job, " said Grace, smiling; but the next moment she suddenlyturned her fair head away and tears stole down her cheeks. 

Henry looked very sorry, and Jael, without moving, looked at Grace, andopened those sluices, her eyes, and two big drops of sympathy rolleddown her comely face in a moment. 

That day, when young Little shut the street-door of "Woodbine Villa" andstepped into the road, a sort of dull pain seemed to traverse his chest. It made his heart ache a little, this contrast of the sweet societyhe had left and the smoky town toward which he now turned his face. Heseemed to be ejected from Paradise for the next five days. It was Mondayyet he wished the next day was Saturday, and the intervening periodcould be swept away, so that he might be entering that soft Paradiseinstead of leaving it. 

And this sentiment, once rooted, grew rapidly in an aspiring nature, anda heart that had never yet entertained a serious passion. Now the fairhead that bowed over the work so near him, the lovely hand he had sooften to direct, and almost to guide, and all the other perfections ofmind and body this enchanting girl possessed, crept in at his admiringeyes, and began to steal into his very veins, and fill him with softcomplacency. His brusque manner dissolved away, and his voice became lowand soft, whenever he was in her delicious presence. He spoke softly toJael even, if Grace was there. The sturdy workman was enthralled. 

Often he wondered at himself. Sometimes he felt alarmed at the strengthof his passion and the direction it had taken. 

"What, " said he, "have I flirted with so many girls in my own wayof life, and come away heart-whole, and now to fall in love with agentlewoman, who would bid her footman show me the door if she knew ofmy presumption!"

But these misgivings could neither cure him nor cow him. Let him onlymake money, and become a master instead of a workman, and then he wouldsay to her, "I don't value birth myself, but if you do, why, I am notcome of workpeople. "

He traced a plan with workmanlike precision:--Profound discretionand self-restraint at "Woodbine Villa:" restless industry and sternself-denial in Hillsborough. 

After his day's work he used to go straight to his mother. She gave hima cup of tea, and then they had their chat; and after that the sexeswere inverted, so to speak: the man carved fruit, and flowers, and deadwoodcocks, the woman read the news and polities of the day, and theessays on labor and capital, and any other articles not too flimsyto bear reading aloud to a man whose time was coin. (There was a freelibrary in Hillsborough, and a mechanic could take out standard booksand reviews. ) Thus they passed the evening hours agreeably, and usefullytoo, for Henry sucked in knowledge like a leech, and at the same timecarved things that sold well in London. He had a strong inclination toopen his heart about Miss Carden. Accordingly, one evening he said, "Shelost her mother when she was a child. "

"Who lost her mother?" asked Mrs. Little. 

"Miss Carden, " said Henry, very softly. 

The tone was not lost on Mrs. Little's fine and watchful ear; at leasther mind seized it a few seconds afterward. 

"That is true, " said she. "Poor girl! I remember hearing of it. Henry, what is that to you? Don't you trouble your head about that young lady, or she will trouble your heart. I wish you did not go near her. "

And then came question upon question, and vague maternal misgivings. Henry parried them as adroitly as he could: but never mentioned MissCarden's name again. 

He thought of her all the more, and counted his gains every week, andbegan to inquire of experienced persons how much money was wanted toset up a wheel with steam power, and be a master instead of a man. Hegathered that a stranger could hardly start fair without L500. 

"That is a good lump!" thought Henry: "but I'll have it, if I work nightas well as day. "

Thus inspired, his life became a sweet delirium. When he walked, heseemed to tread on air: when he forged, his hammer felt a feather inhis hand. The mountains in the way looked molehills, and the rainbowtangible, to Youth, and Health, and Hope, and mighty Love. 

One afternoon, as he put on his coat and crossed the yard, after aday's work that had passed like a pleasant hour, being gilded with suchdelightful anticipations, the foreman of the works made him a mysterioussignal. Henry saw it, and followed him into his office. Bayne lookedcarefully out of all the doors, then closed them softly, and his facebetrayed anxiety, and even fear. 

"Little, " said he, almost in a whisper, "you know me: I'm a man ofpeace, and so for love of peace I'm going to do something that might getme into a wrangle. But you are the civillest chap ever worked under meand the best workman, take you altogether, and I can't bear to see youkept in the dark, when you are the man whose skin--only--if I act like aman to you, will you act like one to me?"

"I will, " said Henry; "there's my hand on it. "

Then Bayne stepped to his desk, opened it, and took out some letters. 

"You must never tell a soul I showed them you, or you will get me into arow with Cheetham; and I want to be at peace in-doors as well as out. "

"I give you my word. "

"Then read that, to begin. "

And he handed him a letter addressed to Mr. Cheetham. 

"SIR, --We beg respectfully to draw your attention to a matter, whichis of a nature to cause unpleasantness between you and the Trades. Weallude to your bringing a workman in from another town to do work thatwe are informed can be done on the premises by your own hands. 

"We assure you it would be more to your interest to work in harmonywith the smiths and the handle-makers in your employ, and the tradegenerally. Yours respectfully, "THE COMMITTEE OF THE EDGE-TOOL FORGERS' UNION. "

Henry colored up at this, and looked grieved; but he said, "I am sorryto be the cause of any unpleasantness. But what can I do?"

"Oh, " said Bayne, with a sardonic grin, "they are sure to tell you that, soon or late. Read this:"

No. 2 was dated a week later, and ran thus:

"MR. CHEETHAM: SIR, --I think you do very ill to annoy a many craftsmenfor one. Remember, you have suffered loss and inconvenience wheneveryou have gone against Trades. We had to visit you last year, and whenwe came your bands went and your bellows gaped. We have no wish to comeagain this year, if you will be reasonable. But, sir, you must part withLondon hand, or take consequences. 

"BALAAM. "

Henry looked grave. "Can I see a copy of Mr. Cheetham's reply?"

Bayne stared at him, and then laughed in his face, but without thegayety that should accompany a laugh. "Cheetham's reply to Balaam! Andwhere would he send it? To Mr. Beor's lodgings, No. 1 Prophet Place, OldTestament Square. My poor chap, nobody writes replies to these letters. When you get one, you go that minute to the secretary of whatever Unionyou are wrong with, and you don't argue, or he bids you good-morning;you give in to whatever he asks, and then you get civility; and justicetoo, according to Trade lights. If you don't do that, and haven'tlearned what a blessing Peace is, why, you make up your mind to fightthe Trade; and if you do, you have to fight them all; and you are safeto get the worst of it, soon or late. Cheetham has taken no notice ofthese letters. All the worse for him and you too. Read that. "

No. 3 ran thus:

"DEAR SIR, --I take the liberty of addressing you on the subject of yourkeeping on this knobstick, in defiance of them that has the power tomake stones of Hillsborough too hot for you and him. Are you deaf, orblind, or a fool, Jack Cheatem? You may cheat the world, but you don'tcheat the devil, nor me. Turn cockney up, with no more ado, or you'llboth get kicked to hell some dark night by

"BALAAM'S ASS. "

Henry was silent; quite silent. When he did speak, it was to ask why Mr. Cheetham had kept all this from him. 

"Because you shouldn't take fright and leave him, " was the unhesitatingreply. 

"For that matter they threaten him more than they do me. "

"They warn the master first; but the workman's turn is sure to come, and he gets it hottest, because they have so many ways of doing him. Cheetham, he lives miles from here, and rides in across country, andout again, in daylight. But the days are drawing in, and you have gotto pass through these dark streets, where the Trades have a thousandfriends, and you not one. Don't you make any mistake: you are in theirpower; so pray don't copy any hot-headed, wrong-headed gentleman likeCheetham, but speak them fair. Come to terms--if you can--and let us beat peace; sweet, balmy peace. "

"Peace is a good thing, no doubt, " said Henry, "but" (rather bitterly)"I don't thank Cheetham for letting me run blindfold into trouble, andme a stranger. "

"Oh, " said Bayne, "he is no worse than the rest, believe me. What doesany master care for a man's life? Profit and loss go down in figures;but life--that's a cipher in all their ledgers. "

"Oh, come, " said Harry, "it is unphilosophical and narrow-minded tofasten on a class the faults of a few individuals, that form a verymoderate portion of that class. "

Bayne seemed staggered by a blow so polysyllabic; and Henry, to finishhim, added, "Where there's a multitude, there's a mixture. " Now thefirst sentence he had culled from the Edinburgh Review, and the secondhe had caught from a fellow-workman's lips in a public-house; andprobably this was the first time the pair of phrases had ever walked outof any man's mouth arm in arm. He went on to say, "And as for Cheetham, he is not a bad fellow, take him altogether. But you are a better fortelling me the truth. Forewarned, forearmed. "

He went home thoughtful, and not so triumphant and airy as yesterday;but still not dejected, for his young and manly mind summoned its energyand spirit to combat this new obstacle, and his wits went to work. 

Being unable to sleep for thinking of what he should do he was the firstto reach the works in the morning. He lighted his furnace, and then wentand unlocked the room where he worked as a handle maker, and also as acutler. He entered briskly and opened the window. The gray light of themorning came in, and showed him something on the inside of the door thatwas not there when he locked it overnight. It was a very long knife, broad toward the handle, but keenly pointed, and double-edged. It wasfast in the door, and impaled a letter addressed, in a vile hand--

"TO JAK THRE TRADES. "

Henry took hold of the handle to draw the knife out; but the formidableweapon had been driven clean through the door with a single blow. 

Then Henry drew back, and, as the confusion of surprise cleared away, the whole thing began to grow on him, and reveal distinct and alarmingfeatures. 

The knife was not one which the town manufactured in the way ofbusiness, it was a long, glittering blade, double-edged, finely pointed, and exquisitely tempered. It was not a tool, but a weapon. 

Why was it there, and, above all, how did it come there?

He distinctly remembered locking the door overnight. Indeed, he hadfound it locked, and the window-shutters bolted; yet there was thisdeadly weapon, and on its point a letter, the superscription of whichlooked hostile and sinister. 

He drew the note gently across the edge of the keen knife, and the paperparted like a cobweb. He took it to the window and read it. It ran thus:

"This knifs wun of too made ekspres t'other is for thy hart if thoudoesnt harken Trade and leve Chetm. Is thy skin thicks dore thinksthou if not turn up and back to Lundon or I cum again and rip thy ----carkiss with feloe blade to this thou ---- cokny

"SLIPER JACK. "

CHAPTER IV. 

Any one who reads it by the fireside may smile at the incongruousmixture of a sanguinary menace with bad spelling. But deeds of blood hadoften followed these scrawls in Hillsborough, and Henry knew it: and, indeed, he who can not spell his own name correctly is the very man totake his neighbor's life without compunction; since mercy is a fruit ofknowledge, and cruelty of ignorance. 

And then there was something truly chilling in the mysterious entranceof this threat on a dagger's point into a room he had locked overnight. It implied supernatural craft and power. After this, where could a manbe safe from these all-penetrating and remorseless agents of a secretand irresponsible tribunal. 

Henry sat down awhile, and pored over the sanguinary scrawl, and glancedfrom it with a shudder at the glittering knife. And, while he was inthis state of temporary collapse, the works filled, the Power moved, thesonorous grindstones revolved, and every man worked at his ease, exceptone, the best of them all beyond comparison. 

He went to his friend Bayne, and said in a broken voice, "They have putme in heart for work; given me a morning dram. Look here. " Bayne wasshocked, but not surprised. "It is the regular routine, " said he. "Theybegin civil; but if you don't obey, they turn it over to the scum. "

"Do you think my life is really in danger?"

"No, not yet; I never knew a man molested on one warning. This is justto frighten you. If you were to take no notice, you'd likely get anotherwarning, or two, at most; and then they'd do you, as sure as a gun. "

"Do me?"

"Oh, that is the Hillsborough word. It means to disable a man from work. Sometimes they lie in wait in these dark streets, and fracture his skullwith life-preservers; or break his arm, or cut the sinew of his wrist;and that they call DOING him. Or, if it is a grinder, they'll put powderin his trough, and then the sparks of his own making fire it, and scorchhim, and perhaps blind him for life; that's DOING him. They have gone asfar as shooting men with shot, and even with a bullet, but never so asto kill the man dead on the spot. They DO him. They are skilled workmen, you know; well, they are skilled workmen at violence and all, and it isastonishing how they contrive to stop within an inch of murder. They'llchance it though sometimes with their favorite gunpowder. If you're verywrong with the trade, and they can't DO you any other way, they'll blowyour house up from the cellar, or let a can of powder down the chimney, with a lighted fuse, or fling a petard in at the window, and they takethe chance of killing a houseful of innocent people, to get at the onethat's on the black books of the trade, and has to be DONE. "

"The beasts! I'll buy a six-shooter. I'll meet craft with craft, andforce with force. "

"What can you do against ten thousand? No; go you at once to theSecretary of the Edge-Tool Grinders, and get your trade into his Union. You will have to pay; but don't mind that. Cheetham will go halves. "

"I'll go at dinner-time. "

"And why not now?"

"Because, " said Henry, with a candor all his own, "I'm getting over myfright a bit, and my blood is beginning to boil at being threatened by asneak, who wouldn't stand before me one moment in that yard, knife or noknife. "

Bayne smiled a friendly but faint smile, and shook his head with gravedisapprobation, and said, with wonder, "Fancy postponing Peace!"

Henry went to his forge and worked till dinner-time. Nay, more, was abeautiful whistler, and always whistled a little at his work: so to-dayhe whistled a great deal: in fact, he over-whistled. 

At dinner-time he washed his face and hands and put on his coat to goout. 

But he had soon some reason to regret that he had not acted on Bayne'sadvice to the letter. There had been a large trade's meeting overnight, and the hostility to the London craftsman had spread more widely, inconsequence of remarks that had been there made. This emboldened thelower class of workmen, who already disliked him out of pure envy, andhad often scowled at him in silence; and, now, as he passed them, theyspoke at him, in their peculiar language, which the great friendand supporter of mechanics in general, The Hillsborough Liberal, subsequently christened "THE DASH DIALECT. "

"We want no ---- cockneys here, to steal our work. "

"Did ever a ---- anvil-man handle his own blades in Hillsborough?"

"Not till this ---- knobstick came, " said another. 

Henry turned sharp round upon them haughtily, and such was the power ofhis prompt defiant attitude, and his eye, which flashed black lightning, that there was a slight movement of recoil among the actual speakers. They recovered it immediately, strong in numbers; but in that samemoment Little also recovered his discretion, and he had the address tostep briskly toward the gate and call out the porter; he said to him inrather a loud voice, for all to hear, "if anybody asks for Henry Little, say he has gone to the Secretary of the Edge-Tool Forgers' Union. " Hethen went out of the works; but, as he went, he heard some respectableworkman say to the scum, "Come, shut up now. It is in better hands thanyours. "

Mr. Jobson, the Secretary of the Edge-Tool Forgers, was not at home, but his servant-girl advised Little to try the "Rising Sun;" and in theparlor of that orb he found Mr. Jobson, in company with other magnatesof the same class, discussing a powerful leader of The HillsboroughLiberal, in which was advocated the extension of the franchise, a measure calculated to throw prodigious power into the hands ofHillsborough operatives, because of their great number, and their habitof living each workman in a tenement of his own, however small. 

Little waited till The Liberal had received its meed of approbation, and then asked respectfully if he might speak to Mr. Jobson on a tradematter. "Certainly, " said Mr. Jobson. "Who are you?"

"My name is Little. I make the carving-tools at Cheetham's. "

"I'll go home with you; my house is hard by. "

When they got to the house, Jobson told him to sit down, and askedhim, in a smooth and well-modulated voice, what was the nature of thebusiness. This query, coming from him, who had set the stone rollingthat bade fair to crush him, rather surprised Henry. He put his handinto his pocket, and produced the threatening note, but said nothing asto the time or manner of its arrival. 

Mr. Jobson perused it carefully, and then returned it to Henry. "Whathave we to do with this?" and he looked quite puzzled. 

"Why, sir, it is the act of your Union. "

"You are sadly misinformed, Mr. Little. WE NEVER THREATEN. All we dois to remind the master that, if he does not do certain things, certainother things will probably be done by us; and this we wrap up in thekindest way. "

"But, sir, you wrote to Cheetham against me. "

"Did we? Then it will be in my letter-book. " He took down a book, examined it, and said, "You are quite right. Here's a copy of theletter. Now surely, sir, comparing the language, the manners, andthe spelling, with that of the ruffian whose scrawl you received thismorning--"

"Then you disown the ruffian's threat?"

"Most emphatically. And if you can trace it home, he shall smart forinterfering in our business. "

"Oh, if the trade disowns the blackguard, I can despise him. Butyou can't wonder at my thinking all these letters were steps of thesame--yes, and Mr. Bayne thought so too; for he said this was theregular routine, and ends in DOING a poor fellow for gaining his bread. "

Mr. Jobson begged to explain. 

"Many complaints are brought to us, who advise the trades. When theyare frivolous, we are unwilling to disturb the harmony of employers andworkmen; we reason with the complainant, and the thing dies away. Whenthe grievance is substantial, we take it out of the individual's handsand lay it before the working committee. A civil note is sent to themaster; or a respectable member of the committee calls on him, and urgeshim to redress the grievance, but always in kind and civil terms. Themaster generally assents: experience has taught him it is his wisestcourse. But if he refuses, we are bound to report the refusal to alarger committee, and sometimes a letter emanates from them, remindingthe master that he has been a loser before by acts of injustice, andhinting that he may be a loser again. I do not quite approve this formof communication. But certainly it has often prevented the mischieffrom spreading further. Well, but perhaps he continues rebellious. Whatfollows? We can't lock up facts that affect the trade; we are bound toreport the case at the next general meeting. It excites comments, someof them perhaps a little intemperate; the lower kind of workmen getinflamed with passion, and often, I am sorry to say, write ruffianlyletters, and now and then do ruffianly acts, which disgrace the town, and are strongly reprobated by us. Why, Mr. Little, it has been my lotto send a civil remonstrance, written with my own hand, in pretty fairEnglish--for a man who plied bellows and hammer twenty years of mylife--and be treated with silent contempt; and two months after to beoffering a reward of twenty or thirty pounds, for the discovery of somemisguided man, that had taken on himself to right this very matter witha can of gunpowder, or some such coarse expedient. "

"Yes, but, sir, what hurts me is, you don't consider me to be worth acivil note. You only remonstrated with Cheetham. "

"You can't wonder at that. Our trade hasn't been together many years:and what drove us together? The tyranny of our employers. What has keptus together? The bitter experience of hard work and little pay, wheneverwe were out of union. Those who now direct the trades are old enough toremember when we were all ground down to the dust by the greedy masters;and therefore it is natural, when a grievance arises, we should beinclined to look to those old offenders for redress in the firstinstance. Sometimes the masters convince us the fault lies with workmen;and then we trouble the master no more than we are forced to do inorder to act upon the offenders. But, to come to the point: what is yourproposal?"

"I beg to be admitted into the union. "

"What union?"

"Why, of course, the one I have offended, through ignorance. Theedge-tool forgers. "

Jobson shook his head, and said he feared there were one or twoobjections. 

Henry saw it was no use bidding low. "I'll pay L15 down, " said he, "and I'll engage not to draw relief from your fund, unless disabled byaccident or violence. "

"I will submit your offer to the trade, " said Jobson. He added, "Thenthere, I conclude, the matter rests for the present. "

Henry interpreted this to mean that he had nothing to apprehend, unlesshis proposal should be rejected. He put the L15 down on the table, though Mr. Jobson told him that was premature, and went off as light asa feather. Being nice and clean, and his afternoon's work spoiled, hecould not resist the temptation; he went to "Woodbine Villa. " He foundMiss Carden at home, and she looked quietly pleased at his unexpectedarrival: but Jael's color came and went, and her tranquil bosom rose andfell slowly, but grandly, for a minute, as she lowered her head over herwork. 

This was a heavenly change to Henry Little. Away from the deafeningworkshop, and the mean jealousies and brutality of his inferiors, whodespised him, to the presence of a beautiful and refined girl, who washis superior, yet did not despise him. From sin to purity, from din tocleanliness, from war to peace, from vilest passions to Paradise. 

Her smile had never appeared so fascinating, her manner never so politeyet placid. How softly and comfortably she and her ample dress nestledinto the corner of the sofa and fitted it! How white her nimble hand!how bright her delicious face! How he longed to kiss her exquisitehand, or her little foot, or her hem, or the ground she walked on, orsomething she had touched, or her eye had dwelt on. 

But he must not even think too much of such delights, lest he shouldshow his heart too soon. So, after a short lesson, he proposed to gointo the lumber-room and find something to work upon. "Yes, do, " saidGrace. "I would go too; but no; it was my palace of delight for years, and its treasures inexhaustible. I will not go to be robbed of one moreillusion, it is just possible I might find it really is what the profanein this house call it--a lumber-room--and not what memory paints it, a temple of divine curiosities. " And so she sent them off, and she setherself to feel old--"oh, so old!"

And presently Henry came back, laden with a great wooden bust of Erin, that had been the figure-head of a wrecked schooner; and set it down, and told her he should carve that into a likeness of herself, and shemust do her share of the work. 

Straightway she forgot she was worn out; and clapped her hands, and hereyes sparkled. And the floor was prepared, and Henry went to work likeone inspired, and the chips flew in every direction, and the paint waschiseled away in no time, and the wood proved soft and kindly, andjust the color of a delicate skin, and Henry said, "The Greek Statues, begging their pardons, have all got hair like mops; but this shall havereal hair, like your own: and the silk dress, with the gloss on; and thelace; but the face, the expression, how can I ever--?"

"Oh, never mind THEM, " cried Grace. "Jael, this is too exciting. Pleasego and tell them 'not at home' to anybody. "

Then came a pretty picture: the workman, with his superb hand, brown andsinewy, yet elegant and shapely as a duchess's, and the fingers almostas taper, and his black eye that glowed like a coal over the model, which grew under his masterly strokes, now hard, now light: theenchanting girl who sat to him, and seemed on fire with curiosity andinnocent admiration: and the simple rural beauty, that plied the needle, and beamed mildly with demure happiness, and shot a shy glance upwardnow and then. 

Yes, Love was at his old mischievous game. 

Henry now lived in secret for Grace Carden, and Jael was garnering Henryinto her devoted heart, unobserved by the object of her simple devotion. Yet, of the three, these two, that loved with so little encouragement, were the happiest. To them the world was Heaven this glorious afternoon. Time, strewing roses as he went, glided so sweetly and so swiftly, that they started with surprise when the horizontal beams glorified thewindows, and told them the brightest day of their lives was drawing toits end. 

Ah, stay a little while longer for them, Western Sun. Stand still, not as in the cruel days of old, to glare upon poor, beaten, wounded, panting warriors, and rob them of their last chance, the shelter of thenight: but to prolong these holy rapturous hours of youth, and hope, andfirst love in bosoms unsullied by the world--the golden hours of life, that glow so warm, and shine so bright, and flee so soon; and return inthis world--Never more!

CHAPTER V. 

Henry Little began this bust in a fervid hour, and made great progressthe first day; but as the work grew on him, it went slower and slower;for his ambitious love drove him to attempt beauties of execution thatwere without precedent in this kind of wood-carving; and, on the otherhand, the fastidiousness of a true craftsman made him correct hisattempts again and again. As to those mechanical parts, which heintrusted at first to his pupil, she fell so far short of his ideal evenin these, that he told her bluntly she must strike work for the present:he could not have THIS spoiled. 

Grace thought it hard she might not be allowed to spoil her own image;however, she submitted, and henceforth her lesson was confined tolooking on. And she did look on with interest, and, at last, withprofound admiration. Hitherto she had thought, with many other persons, that, if a man's hand was the stronger, a woman's was the neater; butnow she saw the same hand, which had begun by hewing away the coarseoutlines of the model, bestow touches of the chisel so unerring andeffective, yet so exquisitely delicate, that she said to herself, "Nowoman's hand could be so firm, yet so feather-like, as all this. "

And the result was as admirable as the process. The very texture of theivory forehead began to come under those master-touches, executed withperfect and various instruments: and, for the first time perhaps in thehistory of this art, a bloom, more delicate far than that of a plum, crept over the dimpled cheek. But, indeed, when love and skill worktogether, expect a masterpiece. 

Henry worked on it four afternoons, the happiest he had ever known. There was the natural pleasure of creating, and the distinct glory anddelight of reproducing features so beloved; and to these joys wereadded the pleasure of larger conversation. The model gave Gracemany opportunities of making remarks, or asking questions, and Henrycontrived to say so many things in answer to one. Sculptor and sittermade acquaintance with each other's minds over the growing bust. 

And then the young ladies and gentlemen dropped in, and gazed, and saidsuch wonderfully silly things, and thereby left their characters behindthem as fruitful themes for conversation. In short, topics were neverwanting now. 

As for Jael, she worked, and beamed, and pondered every word her idoluttered, but seldom ventured to say anything, till he was gone, and thenshe prattled fast enough about him. 

The work drew near completion. The hair, not in ropes, as heretofore, but its silken threads boldly and accurately shown, yet not so as tocord the mass, and unsatin it quite. The silk dress; the lace collar;the blooming cheek, with its every dimple and incident; all these werecompleted, and one eyebrow, a masterpiece in itself. This carvedeyebrow was a revelation, and made everybody who saw it wonder at theconventional substitutes they had hitherto put up with in statuary ofall sorts, when the eyebrow itself was so beautiful, and might it seemshave been imitated, instead of libeled, all these centuries. 

But beautiful works, and pleasant habits, seem particularly liable tointerruption. Just when the one eyebrow was finished, and when JaelDence had come to look on Saturday and Monday as the only real days inthe week, and when even Grace Carden was brighter on those days, andgliding into a gentle complacent custom, suddenly a Saturday came andwent, but Little did not appear. 

Jaet was restless. 

Grace was disappointed, but contented to wait till Monday. 

Monday came and went, but no Henry Little. 

Jael began to fret and sigh; and, after two more blank weeks, she couldbear the mystery no longer. "If you please, miss, " said she, "shall I goto that place where he works?"

"Where who works?" inquired Grace, rather disingenuously. 

"Why, the dark young man, miss, " said Jael, blushing deeply. 

Grace reflected and curiosity struggled with discretion; but discretiongot the better, being aided by self-respect. "No, Jael, " said she; "heis charming, when he is here; but, when he gets away, he is not alwaysso civil as he might be. I had to go twice after him. I shall not go norsend a third time. It really is too bad of him. "

"Dear heart, " pleaded Jael, "mayhap he is not well. "

"Then he ought to write and say so. No, no; he is a radical, and fullof conceit; and he has done this one eyebrow, and then gone off laughingand saying, 'Now, let us see if the gentry can do the other amongstthem. ' If he doesn't come soon, I'll do the other eyebrow myself. "

"Mayhap he will never come again, " said Jael. 

"Oh, yes, he will, " said Grace, mighty cunningly; "he is as fond ofcoming here as we are of having him. Not that I'm at all surprised; forthe fact is, you are very pretty, extremely pretty, abominably pretty. "

"I might pass in Cairnhope town, " said Jael, modestly, "but not here. The moon goes for naught when the sun is there. He don't come here forme. "

This sudden elegance of language, and Jael's tone of dignifieddespondency, silenced Grace, somehow, and made her thoughtful. Sheavoided the subject for several days. Indeed, when Saturday came, not aword was said about the defaulter: it was only by her sending for Jaelto sit with her, and by certain looks, and occasional restlessness, shebetrayed the slightest curiosity or expectation. 

Jael sat and sewed, and often looked quickly up at the window, as somefootstep passed, and then looked down again and sighed. 

Young Little never came. He seemed to have disappeared from both theirlives; quietly disappeared. 

Next day, Sunday, Jael came to Miss Carden, after morning church, andsaid, meekly, "if you please, miss, may I go home?"

"Oh, certainly, " said Grace, a little haughtily. "What for?"

Jael hung her head, and said she was not used to be long away. Then shelifted her head, and her great candid eyes, and spoke more frankly. "Ifeel to be drawed home. Something have been at me all the night tothat degree as I couldn't close my eyes. I could almost feel it, like achild's hand, a pulling me East. I'm afeared father's ill, or may bethe calves are bleating for me, that is better acquaint with them thansister Patty is. And Hillsborough air don't seem to 'gree with me nownot altogether as it did at first. If you please, miss, to let me go;and then I'll come back when I'm better company than I be now. Oh dear!oh dear!"

"Why, Jael, my poor girl, what IS the matter?"

"I don't know, miss. But I feel very unked. "

"Are you not happy with me?"

"'Tis no fault of yourn, miss, " said Jael, rustic, but womanly. 

"Then you are NOT happy here. "

No reply, but two clear eyes began to fill to the very brim. 

Grace coaxed her, and said, "Speak to me like a friend. You know, afterall, you are not my servant. I can't possibly part with you altogether;I have got to like you so: but, of course, you shall go home for alittle while, if you wish it very, very much. "

"Indeed I do, miss, " said Jael. "Please forgive me, but my heart feelslike lead in my bosom. " And, with these words, the big tears ran over, and chased one another down her cheeks. 

Then Grace, who was very kind-hearted, begged her, in a very tearfulvoice, not to cry: she should go home for a week, a fortnight, a montheven. "There, there, you shall go to-morrow, poor thing. "

Now it is a curious fact, and looks like animal magnetism or something, but the farm-house, to which Jael had felt so mysteriously drawn allnight, contained, at that moment, besides its usual inmates, one HenryLittle: and how he came there is an important part of this tale, which Imust deal with at once. 

While Henry was still visiting Woodbine Villa, as related above, eventsof a very different character from those soft scenes were taking placeat the works. His liberal offer to the Edge-Tool Forgers had been madeabout a week, when, coming back one day from dinner to his forge, hefound the smoky wall written upon with chalk, in large letters, neatlyexecuted:--

"Why overlook the handlers?

"MARY. "

He was not alarmed this time, but vexed. He went and complained toBayne; and that worthy came directly and contemplated the writing, insilence, for about a minute. Then he gave a weary sigh, and said, withdoleful resignation, "Take the chalk, and write. There it is. "

Henry took the chalk, and prepared to write Bayne's mind underneathMary's. Bayne dictated:

"I have offered the Handlers the same as the Forgers. "

"But that is not true, " objected Henry, turning round, with the chalk inhis hand. 

"It will be true, in half an hour. We are going to Parkin, the Handlers'Secretary. "

"What, another L15! This is an infernal swindle. "

"What isn't?" said Bayne, cynically. 

Henry then wrote as desired; and they went together to Mr. Parkin. 

Mr. Parkin was not at home. But they hunted him from pillar to post, and caught him, at last, in the bar-parlor of "The Packsaddle. " He knewBayne well, and received him kindly, and, on his asking for a privateinterview, gave a wink to two persons who were with him: they got updirectly, and went out. 

"What, is there any thing amiss between you and the trade?" inquired Mr. Parkin, with an air of friendly interest. 

Bayne smiled, not graciously, but sourly. "Come, come, sir, that is afarce you and I have worn out this ten years. This is the London workmanhimself, come to excuse himself to Mary and Co. , for not applying tothem before: and the long and the short is, he offers the Handlers thesame as he has the Smiths, fifteen down, and to pay his natty money, butdraw no scale, unless disabled. What d'y say? Yes, or no?"

"I'll lay Mr. Little's proposal before the committee. "

"Thank you, sir, " said Little. "And, meantime, I suppose I may feel safeagainst violence, from the members of your union?"

"Violence!" said Mr. Parkin, turning his eye inward, as if he wasinterrogating the centuries. Then to Mr. Bayne, "Pray, sir, do youremember any deed of darkness that our Union has ever committed, sincewe have been together; and that is twelve years?"

"WELL, Mr. Parkin, " said Bayne, "if you mean deeds of blood, and deedsof gunpowder, et cetera--why, no, not one: and it is greatly to yourhonor. But, mind you, if a master wants his tanks tapped and hishardening-liquor run into the shore or his bellows to be ripped, hisaxle-nuts to vanish, his wheel-bands to go and hide in a drain or achurch belfry, and his scythe-blades to dive into a wheel-dam, he hasonly to be wrong with your Union, and he'll be accommodated as above. Ispeak from experience. "

"Oh, rattening!" said Mr Parkin. "That's is a mighty small matter. "

"It is small to you, that are not in the oven, where the bread is baked, or cooled, or burnt. But whatever parts the grindstones from the power, and the bellows from the air, and the air from the fire, makes a holein the master's business to-day, and a hole in the workman's pocketthat day six months. So, for heaven's sake, let us be right with you. Little's is the most friendly and liberal offer that any workman evermade to any Union. Do, pray, close with it, and let us be at peace;sweet--balmy--peace. "

Parkin declared he shared that desire: but was not the committee. Then, to Henry: "I shall put your case as favorably as my conscience will letme. Meantime, of course, the matter rests as it is. "

They then parted; and Henry, as he returned home, thanked Bayneheartily. He said this second L15 had been a bitter pill at first; butnow he was glad he had offered it. "I would not leave Hillsborough forfifteen hundred pounds. "

Two days after this promising interview with Mr. Parkin, Henry receiveda note, the envelope of which showed him it came from Mr. Jobson. Heopened it eagerly, and with a good hope that its object was to tell himhe was now a member of the Edge-Tool Forgers' Union. 

The letter, however, ran thus:

"DEAR SIR, --I hear, with considerable surprise, that you continue toforge blades and make handles for Mr. Cheetham. On receipt of thisinformation I went immediately to Mr. Parkin, and he assured me that hecame to the same terms with you as I did. He says he intimated politely, but plainly, that he should expect you not to make any more carving-toolhandles for Mr. Cheetham, till his committee had received your proposal. He now joins me in advising you to strike work for the present. Hillsborough is surrounded by beautiful scenes, which it might gratifyan educated workman to inspect, during the unavoidable delay caused bythe new and very important questions your case has raised. 

"Yours obediently, "SAML. JOBSON. 

"P. S. --A respectable workman was with me yesterday, and objected thatyou receive from Mr. Cheetham a higher payment than the list price. Canyou furnish me with a reply to this, as it is sure to be urged at thetrade meeting. "

When he read this, Little's blood boiled, especially at the cool adviceto lay down his livelihood, and take up scenery: and he dashed off aletter of defiance. He showed it to Bayne, and it went into the firedirectly. "That is all right, " said this worthy. "You have writtenyour mind, like a man. Now sit down, and give them treacle for theirhoney--or you'll catch pepper. "

Henry groaned, and writhed, but obeyed. 

He had written his defiance in three minutes. It took him an hour toproduce the following:

"DEAR SIR, --I am sorry for the misunderstanding. I did not, for amoment, attach that meaning to any thing that fell either from you orMr. Parkin. 

"I must now remind you that, were I to strike work entirely, Mr. Cheetham could discharge me, and even punish me, for breach of contract. All I can do is to work fewer hours than I have done: and I am sureyou will be satisfied with that, if you consider that the delay in thesettlement of this matter rests with you, and not with me, "I am yours respectfully, HENRY LITTLE. 

"I furnish you, as requested, with two replies to the objection of arespectable workman that I am paid above the list price. 

"1. --To sell skilled labor below the statement price is a just offense, and injury to trade. But to obtain above the statement price is tobenefit trade. The high price, that stands alone to-day, will not standalone forever. It gets quoted in bargains, and draws prices up to it. That has been proved a thousand times. 

"2. --It is not under any master's skin to pay a man more than he isworth. It I get a high price, it is because I make a first-rate article. If a man has got superior knowledge, he is not going to give it away togratify envious ignorance. "

To this, in due course, he received from Jobson the following:

"DEAR SIR, --I advised you according to my judgment and experience: but, doubtless, you are the best judge of your own affairs. "

And that closed the correspondence with the Secretaries. 

The gentle Jobson and the polite Parkin had retired from thecorrespondence with their air of mild regret and placid resignationjust three days, when young Little found a dirty crumpled letter on hisanvil, written in pencil. It ran thus:

"Turn up or youl wish you had droped it. Youl be made so as youl neverdo hands turn agin, an never know what hurt you. 

"MOONRAKER. " (Signed)

Henry swore. 

When he had sworn (and, as a Briton, I think he had denied himselfthat satisfaction long enough), he caught up a strip of steel with hispincers, shoved it into the coals, heated it, and, in half a minute, forged two long steel nails. He then nailed this letter to his wall, andwrote under it in chalk, "I offer L10 reward to any one who will showme the coward who wrote this, but was afraid to sign it. The writing ispeculiar, and can easily be identified. "

He also took the knife that had been so ostentatiously fixed in hisdoor, and carried it about him night and day, with a firm resolve to useit in self-defense, if necessary. 

And now the plot thickened: the decent workmen in Cheetham's works werepassive; they said nothing offensive, but had no longer the inclination, even if they had the power, to interfere and restrain the lower workmenfrom venting their envy and malice. Scarcely a day passed without growlsand scowls. But Little went his way haughtily, and affected not to see, nor hear them. 

However, one day, at dinner-time, he happened, unluckily, to be detainedby Bayne in the yard, when the men came out: and two or three of theroughs took this opportunity and began on him at once, in the DashDialect, of course; they knew no other. 

A great burly forger, whose red matted hair was powdered with coal-dust, and his face bloated with habitual intemperance, planted himselfinsolently before Henry, and said, in a very loud voice, "How many moretrade meetings are we to have for one ---- knobstick?"

Henry replied, in a moment, "Is it my fault if your shilly-shallyingcommittees can't say yes or no to L15? You'd say yes to it, wouldn'tyou, sooner than go to bed sober?"

This sally raised a loud laugh at the notorious drunkard's expense, andchecked the storm, as a laugh generally does. 

But men were gathering round, and a workman who had heard the raisedvoices, and divined the row, ran out of the works, with his apron fullof blades, and his heart full of mischief. It was a grinder of a certainlow type, peculiar to Hillsborough, but quite common there, wheregrinders are often the grandchildren of grinders. This degenerateface was more canine than human; sharp as a hatchet, and with foreheadvillainously low; hardly any chin; and--most characteristic trait ofall--the eyes, pale in color, and tiny in size, appeared to have comeclose together, to consult, and then to have run back into the veryskull, to get away from the sparks, which their owner, and his sire, andhis grandsire, had been eternally creating. 

This greyhound of a grinder flung down a lot of dull bluish blades, warmfrom the forge, upon a condemned grindstone that was lying in the yard;and they tinkled. 

"---- me, if I grind cockney blades!" said he. 

This challenge fired a sympathetic handle-maker. "Grinders are right, "said he. "We must be a ---- mean lot and all, to handle his ---- work. "

"He has been warned enough; but he heeds noane. "

"Hustle him out o' works. "

"Nay, hit him o'er th' head and fling him into shore. "

With these menacing words, three or four roughs advanced on him, withwicked eyes; and the respectable workmen stood, like stone statues, in cold and terrible neutrality; and Henry, looking round, in greatanxiety, found that Bayne had withdrawn. 

He ground his teeth, and stepped back to the wall, to have all theassailants in the front. He was sternly resolute, though very pale, and, by a natural impulse, put his hand into his side-pocket, to feel ifhe had a weapon. The knife was there, the deadly blade with which hisenemies themselves had armed him; and, to those who could read faces, there was death in the pale cheek and gleaming eye of this young man, sosorely tried. 

At this moment, a burly gentleman walked into the midst of them, assmartly as Van Amburgh amongst his tigers, and said steadily, "Whatis to do now, lads?" It was Cheetham himself, Bayne knew he was in theoffice, and had run for him in mortal terror, and sent him to keep thepeace. "They insult me, sir, " said Henry; "though I am always civil tothem; and that grinder refuses to grind my blades, there. "

"Is that so? Step out, my lad. Did you refuse to grind those blades?"

"Ay, " said the greyhound-man sullenly. 

"Then put on your coat, and leave my premises this minute. "

"He is entitled to a week's warning, Mr. Cheetham, " said one of thedecent workmen, respectfully, but resolutely; speaking now for the firsttime. 

"You are mistaken, sir, " replied Mr. Cheetham, in exactly the same tone. (No stranger could have divined the speakers were master and man. ) "Hehas vitiated his contract by publicly refusing to do his work. He'll getnothing from me but his wages up to noon this day. But YOU can have aweek's warning, if you want it. "

"Nay, sir. I've naught against you, for my part. But they say it willcome to that, if you don't turn Little up. "

"Why, what's his fault? Come now; you are a man. Speak up. "

"Nay, I've no quarrel with the man. But he isn't straight with thetrade. "

"That is the secretaries' fault, not mine, " said Henry. "They can't seeI've brought a new trade in, that hurts no old trade, and will spread, and bring money into the town. "

"We are not so ---- soft as swallow that, " said the bloated smith. "Thou's just come t' Hillsborough to learn forging, and when thou'stmastered that, off to London, and take thy ---- trade with thee. "

Henry colored to the brow at the inferior workman's vanity and itsconcomitant, detraction. But he governed himself, by a mighty effort, and said, "Oh, that's your grievance now, is it? Mr. Cheetham--sir--willyou ask some respectable grinder to examine these blades of mine?"

"Certainly. You are right, Little. The man to judge a forger's work isa grinder, and not another forger. Reynolds, just take a look at them, will ye?"

A wet grinder of a thoroughly different type and race from thegreyhound, stepped forward. He was thick-set in body, fresh-colored, and of a square manly countenance. He examined the blades carefully, andwith great interest. 

"Well, " said Henry, "were they forged by a smith, or a novice that iscome here to learn anvil work?"

Reynolds did not reply to him, nor to Mr. Cheetham: he turned to themen. "Mates, I'm noane good at lying. Hand that forged these has naughtto learn in Hillsbro', nor any other shop. "

"Thank you, Mr. Reynolds, " said Henry, in a choking voice. "That is thefirst gleam of justice that I--" He could say no more. 

"Come, don't you turn soft for a word or two, " said Cheetham. "You'llwear all this out in time. Go to the office. I have something to say toyou. "

The something was said. It amounted to this--"Stand by me and I'll standby you. "

"Well, sir, " said Henry, "I think I must leave you if the committeesrefuse my offer. It is hard for one man to fight a couple of trades insuch a place as this. But I'm firm in one thing: until those that governthe unions say 'no' to my offer, I shall go on working, and the scum ofthe trades sha'n't frighten me away from my forge. "

"That's right; let the blackguards bluster. Bayne tells me you have hadanother anonymous. "

"Yes, sir. "

"Well, look here: you must take care of yourself, outside the works;but, I'll take care of you inside. Here, Bayne, write a notice that, ifany man molests, intimidates, or affronts Mr. Little, in my works, I'lltake him myself to the town-hall, and get him two months directly. Havesomebody at the gate to put a printed copy of that into every man's handas he leaves. "

"Thank you, sir!" said Henry, warmly. "But ought not the police toafford me protection, outside?"

"The police! You might as well go to the beadle. No; change yourlodging, if you think they know it. Don't let them track you home. Buy abrace of pistols, and, if they catch you in a dark place, and try to doyou, give them a barrel or two before they can strike a blow. No one ofTHEM will ever tell the police, not if you shot his own brother dead atthat game. The law is a dead letter here, sir. You've nothing to expectfrom it, and nothing to fear. "

"Good heavens! Am I in England?"

"In England? No. You are in Hillsborough. "

This epigram put Cheetham in good humor with himself, and, when Henrytold him he did not feel quite safe, even in his own forge, nor in hishandling-room, and gave his reasons, "Oh, " said cheerful Cheetham, "thatis nothing. Yours is a box-lock; the blackguard will have hid in theworks at night, and taken the lock off, left his writing, and thenscrewed the lock on again: that is nothing to any Hillsborough hand. But I'll soon stop that game. Go you to Chestnut Street, and get twofirst-class Bramah locks. There's a pocket knife forge upstairs, closeto your handling-room. I'll send the pocket-knife hand down-stairs, andyou fasten the Bramah locks on both doors, and keep the keys yourself. See to that now at once: then your mind will be easy. And I shall be inthe works all day now, and every day: come to me directly, if there isany thing fresh. "

Henry's forge was cold, by this time; so he struck work, and spent theafternoon in securing his two rooms with the Bramah locks. He also tookCheetham's advice in another particular. Instead of walking home, hetook a cab, and got the man to drive rapidly to a certain alley. Therehe left the cab, ran down the alley, and turned a corner, and went homeround about. He doubled like a hare, and dodged like a criminal evadingjustice. 

But the next morning he felt a pleasing sense of security when he openedhis forge-room with the Bramah key, and found no letters nor threats ofany kind had been able to penetrate. 

Moreover, all this time you will understand he was visiting "WoodbineCottage" twice a week, and carving Grace Carden's bust. 

Those delightful hours did much to compensate him for his troubles inthe town, and were even of some service to him in training him to fencewith the trades of Hillsborough: for at "Woodbine Villa" he had to keepan ardent passion within the strict bounds of reverence, and in the townhe had constantly to curb another passion, wrath, and keep it within thebounds of prudence. These were kindred exercises of self-restraint, andtaught him self-government beyond his years. But what he benefitedmost by, after all, was the direct and calming effect upon his agitatedheart, and irritated nerves, that preceded, and accompanied, andfollowed these sweet, tranquilizing visits. They were soft, solacing, and soothing; they were periodical and certain, he could count onleaving his cares and worries, twice every week, at the door of thatdear villa; and, when he took them up again, they were no longer thesame; heavenly balm had been shed over them, and over his boiling blood. 

One Saturday he heard, by a side-wind, that the Unions at a generalmeeting had debated his case, and there had been some violent speeches, and no decision come to; but the majority adverse to him. Thisdiscouraged him sadly, and his yearning heart turned all the more towardhis haven of rest, and the hours, few but blissful, that awaited him. 

About 11 o'clock, that same day, the postman brought him a letter, sovilely addressed, that it had been taken to two or three places, onspeculation, before it reached its destination. 

Little saw at once it was another anonymous communication. But he wasgetting callous to these missives, and he even took it with a certaindegree of satisfaction. "Well done, Bramah! Obliged to send their venomby post now. " This was the feeling uppermost in his mind. In short, heopened the letter with as much contempt as anger. 

But he had no sooner read the foul scrawl, than his heart died withinhim. 

"Thou's sharp but not sharp enow. We know where thou goes courting uphill. Window is all glass and ripe for a Peter shall blow the housetatums. There's the stuff in Hillsbro and the men that have done othersso, and will do her job as wells thine. Powders a good servant but a badmaster. 

"ONE WHO MEANS DOING WHAT HE SAYS. "

At this diabolical threat, young Little leaned sick and broken over thehandle of his bellows. 

Then he got up, and went to Mr. Cheetham, and said, patiently, "Sir, Iam sorry to say I must leave you this very day. "

"Don't say that, Little, don't say that. "

"Oh it is with a heavy heart, sir; and I shall always remember yourkindness. But a man knows when he is beat. And I'm beat now. " He hunghis head in silence awhile. Then he said, in a faint voice, "This iswhat has done it, sir, " and handed him the letter. 

Mr. Cheetham examined it, and said, "I am not surprised at your beingtaken aback by this. But it's nothing new to us; we have all beenthreatened in this form. Why, the very last time I fought the trades, my wife was threatened I should be brought home on a shutter, with myintestines sweeping the ground. That was the purport, only it was putvernacular and stronger. And they reminded me that the old gal's clothes(that is Mrs. Cheetham: she is only twenty-six, and the prettiest lassin Coventry, and has a row of ivories that would do your heart good:now these Hillsborough hags haven't got a set of front teeth among 'em, young or old). Well, they told me the old gal's clothes could easily bespoiled, and her doll's face and all, with a penn'orth of vitriol. "

"The monsters!"

"But it was all brag. These things are threatened fifty times, for oncethey are done. "

"I shall not risk it. My own skin, if you like. But not hers: never, Mr. Cheetham: oh, never; never!"

"Well, but, " said Mr. Cheetham, "she is in no danger so long as you keepaway from her. They might fling one of their petards in at the window, if you were there; but otherwise, never, in this world. No, no, Little, they are not so bad as that. They have blown up a whole household, to get at the obnoxious party; but they always make sure he is therefirst. "

Bayne was appealed to, and confirmed this; and, with great difficulty, they prevailed on Little to remain with them, until the Unions shoulddecide; and to discontinue his visits to the house on the hill in themeantime. I need hardly say they had no idea the house on the hill was"Woodbine Villa. "

He left them, and, sick at heart, turned away from Heath Hill, andstrolled out of the lower part of the town, and wandered almost atrandom, and sad as death. 

He soon left the main road, and crossed a stile; it took him by the sideof a babbling brook, and at the edge of a picturesque wood. Ever andanon he came to a water-wheel, and above the water-wheel a dam madeoriginally by art, but now looking like a sweet little lake. They werebeautiful places; the wheels and their attendant works were old andrugged, but picturesque and countrified; and the little lakes behind, fringed by the master-grinder's garden, were strangely peaceful andpretty. Here the vulgar labor of the grindstone was made beautiful andincredibly poetic. 

"Ah!" thought poor Little, "how happy a workman must be that plies histrade here in the fresh air. And how unfortunate I am to be tied to apower-wheel, in that filthy town, instead of being here, where Natureturns the wheel, and the birds chirp at hand, and the scene and the airare all purity and peace. "

One place of the kind was particularly charming. The dam was largerthan most, and sloping grass on one side, cropped short by the grinder'ssheep: on the other his strip of garden: and bushes and flowers hungover the edge and glassed themselves in the clear water. Below thewheel, and at one side, was the master-grinder's cottage, covered withcreepers. 

But Henry's mind was in no state to enjoy these beauties. He enviedthem; and, at last, they oppressed him, and he turned his back on them, and wandered, disconsolate, home. 

He sat down on a stool by his mother, and laid his beating temples onher knees. 

"What is it, my darling?" said she softly. 

"Well, mother, for one thing, the Unions are against me, and I see Ishall have to leave Hillsborough, soon or late. "

"Never mind, dear; happiness does not depend upon the place we livein; and oh, Henry, whatever you do, never quarrel with those terriblegrinders and people. The world is wide. Let us go back to London; thesooner the better. I have long seen there was something worrying you. But Saturday and Monday--they used to be your bright days. "

"It will come to that, I suppose, " said Henry, evading her lastobservation. "Yes, " said he, wearily, "it will come to that. " And hesighed so piteously that she forbore to press him. She had not the heartto cross-examine her suffering child. 

That evening, mother and son sat silent by the fire: Henry had his ownsad and bitter thoughts; and Mrs. Little was now brooding over the wordsHenry had spoken in the afternoon; and presently her maternal anxietiesfound a copious vent. She related to him, one after another, all theoutrages that had been perpetrated in Hillsborough, while he was achild, and had been, each in its turn, the town talk. 

It was a subject on which, if her son had been older, and moreexperienced in her sex, he would have closed her mouth promptly, shebeing a woman whose own nerves had received so frightful a shock by themanner of her husband's death. But, inadvertently, he let her run on, till she told him how a poor grinder had been carried home to his wife, blinded and scorched with gunpowder, and another had been taken home, all bleeding, to his mother, so beaten and bruised with life-preservers, that he had laid between life and death for nine days, and never utteredone word all that time, in reply to all her prayers and tears. 

Now Mrs. Little began these horrible narratives with a forced andunnatural calmness; but, by the time she got to the last; she hadworked herself up to a paroxysm of sympathy with other wretched women inHillsborough, and trembled all over, like one in an ague, for herself:and at last stretched out her shaking hands, and screamed to him, "Oh, Harry, Harry, have pity on your miserable mother! Think what theseeyes of mine have seen--bleeding at my feet--there--there--I see itnow"--(her eyes dilated terribly at the word)--"oh, promise me, forpity's sake, that these--same--eyes--shall never see YOU brought andlaid down bleeding like HIM!" With this she went into violent hysterics, and frightened her son more than all the ruffians in the town had everfrightened him. 

She was a long time in this pitiable condition, and he nursed her: butat last her convulsion ceased, and her head rested on her son's shoulderin a pitiable languor. 

Henry was always a good son: but he never loved his mother so tenderlyas he did this night. His heart yearned over this poor panting soul, sostately in form, yet so weak, so womanly, and lovable; his playmatein childhood; his sweet preceptor in boyhood; the best friend and mostunselfish lover he had, or could ever hope to have, on earth; dear tohim by her long life of loving sacrifice, and sacred by that their greatcalamity, which had fallen so much heavier on her than on him. 

He soothed her, he fondled her, he kneeled at her feet, and promisedher most faithfully he would never be brought home to her bruised orbleeding. No; if the Unions rejected his offer he would go back toLondon with her at once. 

And so, thrust from Hillsborough by the trades, and by his fears forMiss Carden, and also drawn from it by his mother's terrors, he felthimself a feather on the stream of Destiny; and left off struggling:beaten, heart-sick, and benumbed, he let the current carry him like anyother dead thing that drifts. 

He still plied the hammer, but in a dead-alive way. 

He wrote a few cold lines to Mr. Jobson, to say that he thought it wastime for a plain answer to be given to a business proposal. But, as hehad no great hope the reply would be favorable, he awaited it in a statebordering on apathy. And so passed a miserable week. 

And all this time she, for whose sake he denied himself the joy andconsolation of her company, though his heart ached and pined for it, hadhard thoughts of him, and vented them too to Jael Dence. 

The young are so hasty in all their judgments. 

While matters were in this condition, Henry found, one morning, twofresh panes of glass broken in his window. 

In these hardware works the windows seldom or never open: air isprocured in all the rooms by the primitive method of breaking a panehere and a pane there; and the general effect is as unsightly as ahuman mouth where teeth and holes alternate. The incident therefore wasnothing, if it had occurred in any other room; but it was not a thing topass over in this room, secured by a Bramah lock, the key of which wasin Henry's pocket: the panes must have been broken from the outside. Itoccurred to him directly that a stone had been thrown in with anotherthreatening scrawl. 

But, casting his eye all round, he saw nothing of the kind about. 

Then, for a moment, a graver suspicion crossed his mind: might not somedetonating substance of a nature to explode when trodden upon, have beenflung in? Hillsborough excelled in deviltries of this kind. 

Henry thought of his mother, and would not treat the matter lightly orunsuspiciously. He stood still till he had lighted a lucifer match, andexamined the floor of his room. Nothing. 

He lighted a candle, and examined all the premises. Nothing. 

But, when he brought his candle to the window, he made a discovery: thewindow had two vertical iron uprights, about three-quarters of an inchin circumference: and one of these revealed to his quick eye a brighthorizontal line. It had been sawed with a fine saw. 

Apparently an attempt had been made to enter his room from outside. 

The next question was, had that attempt succeeded. 

He tried the bar; it was not quite cut through. 

He locked the forge up directly, and went to his handling room. There heremained till Mr. Cheetham entered the works; then he went to him, andbegged him to visit his forge. 

Mr. Cheetham came directly, and examined the place carefully. 

He negatived, at once, the notion that any Hillsborough hand had beenunable to saw through a bar of that moderate thickness. "No, " saidhe, "they were disturbed, or else some other idea struck them all of asudden; or else they hadn't given themselves time, and are coming againto-morrow. I hope they are. By six o'clock to-night, I'll have a commonwooden shutter hung with six good hinges on each side, easy to openat the center; only, across the center, I'll fix a Waterloo crackerinside. "

"A Waterloo cracker!"

"Ay, but such a one as you never saw. I shall make it myself. It shallbe only four inches long, but as broad as my hand, and enough detonatingpowder in it to blow the shutter fifty feet into the air: and if thereshould be one of Jobson's lads behind the shutter at the time, why he'lllearn flying, and naught to pay for wings. "

"Why, sir, you are planning the man's death!"

"And what is HE planning? Light your forge, and leave the job to me. I'mHillsborough too, and they've put my blood up at last. "

While Henry lighted his forge, Mr. Cheetham whipped out a rule, andmeasured the window exactly. This done, he went down the stairs, andcrossed the yard to go to his office. 

But, before he could enter it, a horrible thing occurred in the roomhe had just left; so horrible, it made him, brave as he was, turn andscream like a woman. 

Some miscreant, by a simple but ingenious means, which afterwardtranspired, had mixed a quantity of gunpowder with the smithy-slack orfine cinders of Henry's forge. The moment the forge was hot, the powderignited with a tremendous thud, a huge mass of flame rushed out, drivingthe coals with it, like shot from a gun; Henry, scorched, blackened, and blinded, was swept, as by a flaming wind, against the opposite wall;then, yelling, and stark mad with fright (for nothing drives men outof their wits like an explosion in a narrow space), he sprang at thewindow, head foremost, and with such velocity that the sawed ironsnapped like a stick of barley-sugar, and out he went head foremost;and this it was made Cheetham scream, to see him head downward, and thepaving-stones below. 

But the aperture was narrow: his body flew through, but his tight armwent round the unbroken upright, and caught it in the bend of the elbow. 

Then Cheetham roared, "Hold on, Little! Hold on, I tell you!"

The scared brain of a man accustomed to obey received the command almostwithout the mind; and the grinders and forgers, running wildly into theyard, saw the obnoxious workman, black as a cinder from head to foot, bleeding at the face from broken glass, hanging up there by one hand, moaning with terror, and looking down with dilating eye, while thickwhite smoke rushed curling out, as if his body was burning. Death bysuffocation was at his back, and broken bones awaited him below. 

CHAPTER VI. 

At sight of this human cinder, hanging by one hand between two deaths, every sentiment but humanity vanished from the ruggedest bosom, andthe skilled workmen set themselves to save their unpopular comrade withadmirable quickness and judgment: two new wheel-bands, that had justcome into the works, were caught up in a moment, and four workmen ranwith them and got below the suspended figure: they then turned back toback, and, getting the bands over their shoulders, pulled hard againsteach other. This was necessary to straighten the bands: they weighedhalf a hundred weight each. Others stood at the center of the bands, anddirected Little where to drop, and stood ready to catch him should hebound off them. 

But now matters took an unexpected turn. Little, to all appearance, wasblind and deaf. He hung there, moaning, and glaring, and his one sinewyarm supported his muscular but light frame almost incredibly. He was outof his senses, or nearly. 

"Let thyself come, lad, " cried a workman, "we are all right to catchthee. "

He made no answer, but hung there glaring and moaning. 

"The man will drop noane, till he swouns, " said another, watching himkeenly. 

"Then get you closer to the wall, men, " cried Cheetham, in greatanxiety. "He'll come like a stone, when he does come. " This injunctionwas given none too soon; the men had hardly shifted their positions, when Little's hand opened, and he came down like lead, with his handsall abroad, and his body straight; but his knees were slightly bent, andhe caught the bands just below the knee, and bounded off them into theair, like a cricket-ball. But many hands grabbed at him, and the grinderReynolds caught him by the shoulder, and they rolled on the groundtogether, very little the worse for that tumble. "Well done! well done!"cried Cheetham. "Let him lie, lads, he is best there for a while; andrun for a doctor, one of you. "

"Ay, run for Jack Doubleface, " cried several voices at once. 

"Now, make a circle, and give him air, men. " Then they all stood ina circle, and eyed the blackened and quivering figure with pity andsympathy, while the canopy of white smoke bellied overhead. Nor werethose humane sentiments silent; and the rough seemed to be even moreovercome than the others: no brains were required to pity this poorfellow now; and so strong an appeal to their hearts, through theirsenses, roused their good impulses and rare sensibilities. Oh, it wasstrange to hear good and kindly sentiments come out in the Dash dialect. 

"It's a ---- shame!"

"There lies a good workman done for by some ---- thief, that wasn't fitto blow his bellows, ---- him!"

"Say he WAS a cockney, he was always ---- civil. "

"And life's as sweet to him as to any man in Hillsborough. "

"Hold your ---- tongue, he's coming to. "

Henry did recover his wits enough to speak; and what do you think washis first word?

He clasped his hands together, and said, --"MY MOTHER! OH, DON'T LET HERKNOW!"

This simple cry went through many a rough heart; a loud gulp or two wereheard soon after, and more than one hard and coaly cheek was channeledby sudden tears. But now a burly figure came rolling in; they drew backand silenced each other. --"The Doctor!" This was the remarkable personthey called Jack Doubleface. Nature had stuck a philosophic head, withfinely-cut features, and a mouth brimful of finesse, on to a corpulentand ungraceful body, that yawed from side to side as he walked. 

The man of art opened with two words. He looked up at the white cloud, which was now floating away; sniffed the air, and said, "Gunpowder!"Then he looked down at Little, and said, "Ah!" half dryly, half sadly. Indeed several sentences of meaning condensed themselves into thatsimple interjection. At this moment, some men, whom curiosity had drawnto Henry's forge, came back to say the forge had been blown up, and "thebellows torn limb from jacket, and the room strewed with ashes. "

The doctor laid a podgy hand on the prisoner's wrist: the touch waslight, though the fingers were thick and heavy. The pulse, which hadbeen very low, was now galloping and bounding frightfully. "Fetch him aglass of brandy-and-water, " said Dr. Amboyne. (There were still doctorsin Hillsborough, though not in London, who would have had him bled onthe spot. )

"Now, then, a surgeon! Which of you lads operates on the eye, in theseworks?"

A lanky file-cutter took a step forward. "I am the one that takes themotes out of their eyes. "

"Then be good enough to show me his eye. "

The file-cutter put out a hand with fingers prodigiously long and thin, and deftly parted both Little's eyelids with his finger and thumb, so asto show the whole eye. 

"Hum!" said the doctor, and shook his head. 

He then patted the sufferer all over, and the result of that examinationwas satisfactory. Then came the brandy-and-water; and while Henry'steeth were clattering at the glass and he was trying to sip the liquid, Dr. Amboyne suddenly lifted his head, and took a keen survey of thecountenances round him. He saw the general expression of pity on therugged faces. He also observed one rough fellow who wore a strange wildlook: the man seemed puzzled, scared, confused like one half awakenedfrom some hideous dream. This was the grinder who had come into theworks in place of the hand Cheetham had discharged for refusing to grindcockney blades. 

"Hum!" said Dr. Amboyne, and appeared to be going into a brown study. 

But he shook that off, and said briskly, "Now, then, what was his crime?Did he owe some mutual aid society six-and-four-pence?"

"That's right, " said Reynolds, sullenly, "throw every thing on theUnion. If we knew who it was, he'd lie by the side of this one in lessthan a minute, and, happen, not get up again so soon. " A growl of assentconfirmed the speaker's words. Cheetham interposed and drew Amboyneaside, and began to tell him who the man was and what the dispute; butAmboyne cut the latter explanation short. "What, " said he, "is this thecarver whose work I saw up at Mr. Carden's?"

"This is the very man, no doubt. "

"Why, he's a sculptor: Praxiteles in wood. A fine choice they have madefor their gunpowder, a workman that did honor to the town. "

A faint flush of gratified pride colored the ghastly cheek a moment. 

"Doctor, shall I live to finish the bust?" said Henry, piteously. 

"That and hundreds more, if you obey me. The fact is, Mr. Cheetham, thisyoung man is not hurt, but his nerves have received a severe shock; andthe sooner he is out of this place the better. Ah, there is my broughamat the gate. Come, put him into it, and I'll take him to the infirmary. "

"No, " said Little, "I won't go there; my mother would hear of it. "

"Oh, then your mother is not to know?"

"Not for all the world! She has had trouble enough. I'll just wash myface and buy a clean shirt, and she'll never know what has happened. Itwould kill her. Oh, yes, it would kill her!"

The doctor eyed him with warm approval. "You are a fine young fellow. I'll see you safe through this, and help you throw dust in your mother'seyes. If you go to her with that scratched face, we are lost. Come, getinto my carriage, and home with me. "

"Mayn't I wash my face first? And look at my shirt: as black as acinder. "

"Wash your face, by all means: but you can button your coat over yourshirt. "

The coat was soon brought, and so was a pail of water and a piece ofyellow soap. Little dashed his head and face into the bucket, and sooninked all the water. The explosion had filled his hair with black dust, and grimed his face and neck like a sweep's. This ablution made himclean, but did not bring back his ruddy color. He looked pale andscratched. 

The men helped him officiously into the carriage, though he could havewalked very well alone. 

Henry asked leave to buy a clean shirt. The doctor said he would lendhim one at home. 

While Henry was putting it on Dr. Amboyne ordered his dog-cart insteadof his brougham, and mixed some medicines. And soon Henry found himselfseated in the dog-cart, with a warm cloak over him, and whisking overthe stones of Hillsborough. 

All this had been done so rapidly and unhesitatingly that Henry, injuredand shaken as he was, had yielded passive obedience. But now he began todemur a little. "But where are we going, sir?" he asked. 

"To change the air and the scene. I'll be frank with you--you are manenough to bear the truth--you have received a shock that will verylikely bring on brain-fever, unless you get some sleep tonight. But youwould not sleep in Hillsborough. You'd wake a dozen times in the night, trembling like an aspen leaf, and fancying you were blown up again. "

"Yes, but my mother, sir! If I don't go home at seven o'clock, she'llfind me out. "

"If you went crazy wouldn't she find you out? Come, my young friend, trust to my experience, and to the interest this attempt to murder you, and your narrow escape, have inspired in me. When I have landed you inthe Temple of Health, and just wasted a little advice on a pig-headedpatient in the neighborhood (he is the squire of the place), I'll driveback to Hillsborough, and tell your mother some story or other: you andI will concoct that together as we go. "

At this Henry was all obedience, and indeed thanked him, with the tearsin his eyes, for his kindness to a poor stranger. 

Dr. Amboyne smiled. "If you were not a stranger, you would know thatsaving cutlers' lives is my hobby, and one in which I am steadilyresisted and defeated, especially by the cutlers themselves: why, I lookupon you as a most considerate and obliging young man for indulging mein this way. If you had been a Hillsborough hand, you would insist upona brain-fever, and a trip to the lunatic asylum, just to vex me, andhinder me of my hobby. "

Henry stared. This was too eccentric for him to take it all in at once. "What!" said Dr. Amboyne, observing his amazement, "Did you never hearof Dr. Doubleface?"

"No, sir. "

"Never hear of the corpulent lunatic, who goes about the city chanting, like a cuckoo, 'Put yourself in his place--put yourself in her place--intheir place?'

"No, sir, I never did. "

"Then such is fame. Well, never mind that just now; there's a time forevery thing. Please observe that ruined house: the ancient family towhom it belongs are a remarkable example of the vicissitude of humanaffairs. " He then told him the curious ups and downs of that family, which, at two distant periods, had held vast possessions in the county;but were now represented by the shell of one manor house, and itsdovecote, the size of a modern villa. Next he showed him an obscurebattlefield, and told him that story, and who were the parties engaged;and so on. Every mile furnished its legend, and Dr. Amboyne related themall so graphically that the patient's mind was literally stolen awayfrom himself. At last, after a rapid drive of eleven miles through thepure invigorating air, they made a sudden turn, and entered a pleasantand singularly rural village: they drew up at a rustic farmhouse, cladwith ivy; and Dr. Amboyne said, "This is the temple: here you can sleepas safe from gunpowder as a field-marshal born. "

The farmer's daughter came out, and beamed pleasure at sight of thedoctor: he got down, and told her the case, privately, and gaveher precise instructions. She often interrupted the narrative with"Lawkadaisies, " and other rural interjections, and simple exclamationsof pity. She promised faithful compliance with his orders. 

He then beckoned Henry in, and said, "This picture of health was apatient of mine once, as you are now; there's encouragement for you. Iput you under her charge. Get a letter written to your mother, and I'llcome back for it in half an hour. You had a headache, and were feverish, so you consulted a doctor. He advised immediate rest and change of air, and he drove you at once to this village. Write you that, and leave therest to me. We doctors are dissembling dogs. We have still something tolearn in curing diseases; but at making light of them to the dying, andother branches of amiable mendacity, we are masters. "

As soon as he was gone, the comely young hostess began on her patient. "Dear heart, sir, was it really you as was blowed up with gunpowder?"

"Indeed it was, and not many hours ago. It seems like a dream. "

"Well, now, who'd think that, to look at you? Why, you are none theworse for, by a scratch or two, and dear heart, I've seen a young chapbring as bad home, from courting, in these parts; and wed the lass asmarked him--within the year. "

"Oh, it is not the scratches; but feel my hand, how it trembles. And itused to be as firm as a rock; for I never drink. "

"So it do, I declare. Why, you do tremble all over; and no wonder, poorsoul. Come you in this minut, and sit down a bit by the fire, while I goand make the room ready for you. "

But, as soon as he was seated by the fire, the current began to flowagain. "Well, I never liked Hillsborough folk much--poor, mean-visagedtykes they be--but now I do hate 'em. What, blow up a decent young manlike you, and a well-favored, and hair like jet, and eyes in your headlike sloes! But that's their ground of spite, I warrant me; the nasty, ugly, dirty dogs. Well, you may just snap your fingers at 'em all now. They don't come out so far as this; and, if they did, stouter men growsin this village than any in Hillsborough: and I've only to hold up myfinger, for as little as I be, and they'd all be well ducked in father'shorsepond, and then flogged home again with a good cart-whip well laidon. And, another thing, whatever we do, Squire, he will make it good inlaw: he is gentle, and we are simple; but our folk and his has stood byeach other this hundred year and more. But, la, I run on so, and you wasto write a letter again the doctor came back. I'll fetch you some paperthis minut. "

She brought him writing materials, and stood by him with this apology, "If 'twas to your sweetheart I'd be off. But 'tis to your mother. " (Witha side glance), "She have been a handsome woman in her day, I'll gobail. "

"She is as beautiful as ever in my eyes, " said Henry, tenderly. "And, oh, heaven! give me the sense to write to her without frightening her. "

"Then I won't hinder you no more with my chat, " said his hostess, withkindly good humor, and slipped away upstairs. She lighted a great woodfire in the bedroom, and laid the bed and the blankets all round it, andopened the window, and took the homespun linen sheets out of a press, and made the room very tidy. Then she went down again, and the momentHenry saw her, he said "I feel your kindness, miss, but I don't knowyour name, nor where in the world I am. " His hostess smiled. "That is nosecret. I'm Martha Dence--at your service: and this is Cairnhope town. "

"Cairnhope!" cried Henry, and started back, so that his wooden chairmade a loud creak upon the stones of the farmer's kitchen. 

Martha Dence stared, but said nothing; for almost at that moment thedoctor returned, all in a hurry, for the letter. 

Henry begged him to look at it, and see if it would do. 

The doctor read it. "Hum!" said he, "it is a very pretty, filial letter, and increases my interest in you; give me your hand: there. Well, itwon't do: too shaky. If your mother once sees this, I may talk tilldoomsday, she'll not believe a word. You must put off writing tillto-morrow night. Now give me her address, for I really must get home. "

"She lives on the second floor, No. 13 Chettle Street. "

"Her name?"

"Sir, if you ask for the lady that lodges on the second floor, you willbe sure to see her. "

Dr. Amboyne looked a little surprised, and not very well pleased, atwhat seemed a want of confidence. But he was a man singularly cautiousand candid in forming his judgments; so he forbore all comment, anddelivered his final instructions. "Here is a bottle containing only afew drops of faba Ignatii in water, it is an innocent medicine, andhas sometimes a magical effect in soothing the mind and nerves. Atable-spoonful three times a day. And THIS is a sedative, which you cantake if you find yourself quite unable to sleep. But I wouldn't haverecourse to it unnecessarily; for these sedatives are uncertain in theiroperation; and, when a man is turned upside down, as you have been, theysometimes excite. Have a faint light in your bedroom. Tie a cord to thebell-rope, and hold it in your hand all night. Fix your mind on thatcord, and keep thinking, 'This is to remind me that I am elevenmiles from Hillsborough, in a peaceful village, safe from all harm. 'To-morrow, walk up to the top of Cairnhope Peak, and inhale the gloriousbreeze, and look over four counties. Write to your mother at night, and, meantime, I'll do my best to relieve her anxiety. Good-by. "

Memory sometimes acts like an old flint-gun: it hangs fire, yet endsby going off. While Dr. Amboyne was driving home, the swarthy, buthandsome, features of the workman he had befriended seemed to enter hismind more deeply than during the hurry, and he said to himself, "Jetblack hair; great black eyes; and olive skin; they are rare in theseparts; and, somehow, they remind me a little of HER. "

Then his mind went back, in a moment, over many years, to the days whenhe was stalwart, but not unwieldy, and loved a dark but peerless beauty, loved her deeply, and told his love, and was esteemed and pitied, butanother was beloved. 

And so sad, yet absorbing, was the retrospect of his love, his sorrow, and her own unhappy lot, that it blotted out of his mind, for a time, the very youth whose features and complexion had launched him into thepast. 

But the moment his horse's feet rang on the stones, this burlyphilosopher shook off the past, and set himself to recover lost time. He drove rapidly to several patients, and, at six o'clock, was at 13Chettle Street, and asked for the lady on the second floor, "Yes, sir: she is at home, " was the reply. "But I don't know; she lives veryretired. She hasn't received any visits since they came. However, theyrent the whole floor, and the sitting-room fronts you. "

Dr. Amboyne mounted the stair and knocked at the door. A soft and mellowvoice bade him enter. He went in, and a tall lady in black, with plainlinen collar and wristbands, rose to receive him. They confrontedeach other. Time and trouble had left their trace, but there were theglorious eyes, and jet black hair, and the face, worn and pensive, butstill beautiful. It was the woman he had loved, the only one. 

"Mrs. Little!" said he, in an indescribable tone. 

"Dr. Amboyne!"

For a few moments he forgot the task he had undertaken; and could onlyexpress his astonishment and pleasure at seeing her once more. 

Then he remembered why he was there; and the office he had undertaken solightly alarmed him now. 

His first instinct was to gain time. Accordingly, he began to chide hergently for having resided in the town and concealed it from him; then, seeing her confused and uncomfortable at that reproach, and in the moodto be relieved by any change of topic, he glided off, with no littleaddress, as follows:--"Observe the consequences: here have I been mostdespotically rusticating a youth who turns out to be your son. "

"My son! is there any thing the matter with my son? Oh, Dr. Amboyne!"

"He must have been out of sorts, you know, or he would not haveconsulted me, " replied the doctor, affecting candor. 

"Consult! Why, what has happened? He was quite well when he left me thismorning. "

"I doubt that. He complained of headache and fever. But I soon found hisMIND was worried. A misunderstanding with the trades! I was very muchpleased with his face and manner; my carriage was at the door; his pulsewas high, but there was nothing that country air and quiet will notrestore. So I just drove him away, and landed him in a farm-house. "

Mrs. Little's brow flushed at this. She was angry. But, in a nature sogentle as hers, anger soon gave way. She turned a glance of tearfuland eloquent reproach on Dr. Amboyne. "The first time we have ever beenseparated since he was born, " said she, with a sigh. 

Dr. Amboyne's preconceived plan broke down that moment. He said, hurriedly, "Take my carriage, and drive to him. Better do that than tormentyourself. "

"Where is he?" asked the widow, brightening up at the proposal. 

"At Cairnhope. "

At this word, Mrs. Little's face betrayed a series of emotions: firstconfusion, then astonishment, and at last a sort of superstitious alarm. "At Cairnhope?" she faltered at last, "My son at Cairnhope?"

"Pray do not torment yourself with fancies, " said the doctor. "All thisis the merest accident--the simplest thing in the world. I cured PattyDence of diphtheria, when it decimated the village. She and her familyare grateful; the air of Cairnhope has a magic effect on people who livein smoke, and Martha and Jael let me send them out an invalid now andthen to be reinvigorated. I took this young man there, not knowing whohe was. Go to him, if you like. But, frankly, as his physician, I wouldrather you did not. Never do a wise thing by halves. He ought to beentirely separated from all his cares, even from yourself (who aredoubtless one of them), for five or six days. He needs no other medicinebut that and the fine air of Cairnhope. "

"Then somebody must see him every day, and tell me. Oh! Dr. Amboyne, this is the beginning: what will the end be? I am miserable. "

"My man shall ride there every day, and see him, and bring you back aletter from him. "

"Your man!" said Mrs. Little, a little haughtily. 

Dr. Amboyne met her glance. "If there was any ground for alarm, should Inot go myself every day?" said he, gravely, and even tenderly. 

"Forgive me, " said the widow, and gave him her hand with a sweet andwomanly gesture. 

The main difficulty was now got over; and Dr. Amboyne was careful not tosay too much, for he knew that his tongue moved among pitfalls. 

As Dr. Amboyne descended the stairs, the landlady held a door ajar, andpeeped at him, according to a custom of such delicate-minded females ascan neither restrain their curiosity nor indulge it openly. Dr. Amboynebeckoned to her, and asked for a private interview. This was promptlyaccorded. 

"Would ten guineas be of any service to you, madam?"

"Eh, dear, that it would, sir. Why, my rent is just coming due. "

Under these circumstances, the bargain was soon struck. Not a syllableabout the explosion at Cheetham's was to reach the second floor lodger'sears, and no Hillsborough journal was to mount the stairs until theyoung man's return. If inquired for, they were to be reported all soldout, and a London journal purchased instead. 

Having secured a keen and watchful ally in this good woman, who, to doher justice, showed a hearty determination to earn her ten guineas, Dr. Amboyne returned home, his own philosophic pulse beating faster than ithad done for some years. 

He had left Mrs. Little grateful, and, apparently, in good spirits;but, ere he had been gone an hour, the bare separation from her sonoverpowered her, and a host of vague misgivings tortured her, andshe slept but little that night. By noon next day she was thoroughlymiserable; but Dr. Amboyne's man rode up to the door in the afternoonwith a cheerful line from Henry. 

"All right, dear mother. Better already. Letter by post. 

"Henry. "

She detained the man, and made up a packet of things for Cairnhope, andgave him five shillings to be sure and take them. 

This was followed by a correspondence, a portion of which will sufficeto eke out the narrative. 

"DEAREST MOTHER, --I slept ill last night, and got up aching from headto foot, as if I had been well hided. But they sent me to the top ofCairnhope Peak, and, what with the keen air and the glorious view, Icame home and ate like a hog. That pleased Martha Dence, and she keptputting me slices off her own plate, till I had to cry quarter. As soonas I have addressed this letter, I'm off to bed, for it is all I can donot to fall asleep sitting. 

"I am safe to be all right to-morrow, so pray don't fret. I am, dearmother, " etc. , etc. 

"DEAREST MOTHER, --I hope you are not fretting about me. Dr. Amboynepromised to stop all that. But do write, and say you are not frettingand fancying all manner of things at my cutting away so suddenly. It wasthe doctor's doing. And, mother, I shall not stay long away from you, for I slept twelve hours at a stretch last night, and now I'm anotherman. But really, I think the air of that Cairnhope Peak would cure afellow at his last gasp. 

"Thank you for the linen, and the brushes, and things. But you are notthe sort to forget anything a fellow might want, " etc. 

"No, my darling son. Be in no hurry to leave Cairnhope. Of course, love, I was alarmed at first; for I know doctors make the best of every thing;and then the first parting!--that is always a sorrowful thing. But, nowyou are there, I beg you will stay till you are quite recovered. Yourletters are a delight, and one I could not have, and you as well, youknow. 

"Since you are at Cairnhope--how strange that seems--pray go and seethe old church, where your forefathers are buried. There are curiousinscriptions, and some brasses nobody could decipher when I was a girl;but perhaps you might, you are so clever. Your grandfather's monumentis in the chancel: I want you to see it. Am I getting very old, that myheart turns back to these scenes of my youth?

"P. S. --Who is this Martha Dence?"

"DEAR MOTHER, --Martha Dence is the farmer's daughter I lodge with. Sheis not so pretty as her sister Jael that is with Miss Carden; but she isa comely girl, and as good as gold, and bespoke by the butcher. And herputting slices from her plate to mine is a village custom, I find. 

"Mother, the people here are wonderfully good and simple. First of all, there's farmer Dence, with his high bald head, like a patriarch of old;and he sits and beams with benevolence, but does not talk much. But helets me see I can stay with him six years, if I choose. Then, there'sMartha, hospitality itself, and ready to fly at my enemies like amastiff. She is a little hot in the temper, feathers up in a moment;but, at a soft word, they go down again as quick. Then, there's thevillage blacksmith. I call him 'The gentle giant. ' He is a tremendousfellow in height, and size, and sinew; but such a kind, sweet-temperedchap. He could knock down an ox, yet he wouldn't harm a fly. I am hisidol: I sauntered in to his smithy, and forged him one or two knives;and of course he had never seen the hammer used with that nicety;but instead of hating me, as the bad forgers in Hillsborough do, heregularly worships me, and comes blushing up to the farm-house afterhours, to ask after me and get a word with me. He is the best whistlerin the parish, and sometimes we march down the village at night, arm-in-arm, whistling a duet. This charms the natives so that we couldtake the whole village out at our heels, and put them down in anotherparish. But the droll thing is, they will not take me for what I am. Mygentle giant would say 'Sir' till I pretended to be affronted; the womenand girls will bob me courtesies, and the men and white headed boyswill take off their hats and pull their front hair to me. If a skilledworkman wants to burst with vanity, let him settle in Cairnhope. "

[EXTRACT]

"Martha Dence and I have had words, and what do you think it was about?I happened to let out my opinion of Mr. Raby. Mother, it was likesetting a match to a barrel of gunpowder. She turned as red as fire, andsaid, 'Who be you that speaks against Raby to Dence?'

"I tried to pacify her, but it was no use. 'Don't speak to me, ' saidshe. 'I thought better of you. You and I are out. ' I bowed before thestorm, and, to give her time to cool, I obeyed your wishes, and walkedto Cairnhope old church. What a curious place! But I could not get in;and, on my return, I found Mr. Raby keeps the key. Now, you can't do athing here, or say a word, but what it is known all over the village. SoMartha Dence meets me at the door, and says, very stiffly, she thoughtI might have told her I wanted to see the old church. I pulled a long, penitent face, and said, 'Yes; but unfortunately, I was out of her goodbooks, and had orders not to speak to her. ' 'Nay, ' says she, 'life istoo short for long quarrels. You are a stranger, and knew no better. 'Then she told me to wait five minutes while she put on her bonnet, asshe calls it. Well, I waited the five and-forty minutes, and she put onher bonnet, and so many other smart things, that we couldn't possiblywalk straight up to the old church. We had to go round by the butcher'sshop, and order half a pound of suet; no less. 'And bring it yourself, this evening, ' said I, 'or it might get lost on the road. ' Says thebutcher, 'Well, sir, that is the first piece of friendly advice any goodChristian has bestowed--' But I heard no more, owing to Martha chasingme out of the shop. 

"To reach the old church we had to pass the old ruffian's door. Marthawent in; I sauntered on, and she soon came after me, with the key inher hand. 'But, ' said she, 'he told me if my name hadn't been Dence hewouldn't trust me with it, though I went on my bended knees. '

"We opened the church-door, and I spent an hour inside, examining andcopying inscriptions for you. But, when I came to take up a loose brass, to try and decipher it, Martha came screaming at me, 'Oh, put it down!put it down! I pledged my word to Squire you should not touch thembrasses. ' What could I do, mother? The poor girl was in an agony. Thisold ruffian has, somehow, bewitched her, and her father too, into a sortof superstitious devotion that I can't help respecting, unreasonable asit is. So I dropped the brass, and took to reflecting. And I give you mythoughts. 

"What a pity and a shame that a building of this size should lie idle!If it was mine I would carefully remove all the monuments, and the deadbones, et cetera, to the new church, and turn this old building into afactory, or a set of granaries, or something useful. It is as great asin to waste bricks and mortar as it is bread, " etc. 

"MY DEAR HARRY, --Your dear sprightly letters delight me, and reconcileme to the separation; for I see that your health is improving every day, by your gayety; and this makes me happy, though I can not quite be gay. 

"Your last letter was very amusing, yet, somehow, it set me thinking, long and sadly; and some gentle remarks from Dr. Amboyne (he calledyesterday) have also turned my mind the same way. Time has softened theterrible blow that estranged my brother and myself, and I begin toask myself, was my own conduct perfect? was my brother's quite withoutexcuse? I may have seen but one side, and been too hasty in judging him. At all events, I would have you, who are a man, think for yourself, andnot rush into too harsh a view of that unhappy quarrel. Dearest, familyquarrels are family misfortunes: why should they go down to anothergeneration? You frighten me, when you wonder that Nathan and his family(I had forgotten his name was Dence) are attached to Mr. Raby. Why, withall his faults, my brother is a chivalrous, high-minded gentleman; hisword is his bond, and he never deserts a friend, however humble; and Ihave heard our dear father say that, for many generations, uncommon actsof kindness had passed between that family of yeomen and the knights andsquires of Raby. 

"And now, dear, I am going to be very foolish. But, if these Dencesare as great favorites with him as they were with my father, she couldeasily get you into the house some day, when he is out hunting; and I dowant you to see one thing more before you come back from Cairnhope--yourmother's picture. It hangs, or used to hang, in the great dining-room, nearly opposite the fire-place. 

"I blush at my childishness, but I SHOULD like my child to see what hismother was when she brought him into the world, that sad world in whichhe has been her only joy and consolation. 

"P. S. --What an idea! Turn that dear old church into a factory! But youare a young man of the day. And a wonderful day it is; I can not quitekeep up with it. "

"DEAR MOTHER, --I have been there. Mr. Raby is a borough magistrate, aswell as a county justice; and was in Hillsborough all day to-day. MarthaDence took me to Raby Hall, and her name was a passport. When I got tothe door, I felt as if something pulled me, and said, 'It's an enemy'shouse; don't go in. ' I wish I had obeyed the warning; but I did not. 

"Well, I have seen your portrait. It is lovely, it surpasses any woman Iever saw. And it must have been your image, for it is very like you now, only in the bloom of your youth. 

"And now, dear mother, having done something for you, quite against myown judgment, and my feelings too, please do something for me. Promiseme never to mention Mr. Raby's name to me again, by letter, or by wordof mouth either. He is not a gentleman: he is not a man; he is a mean, spiteful, cowardly cur. I'll keep out of his way, if I can; but if hegets in mine, I shall give him a devilish good hiding, then and there, and I'll tell HIM the reason why; and I will not tell YOU. 

"Dear mother, I did intend to stay till Saturday, but, after this, Ishall come back to you to-morrow. My own sweet dove of a mammy; who buta beast could hurt or affront you?

"So no more letters from your dutiful and affectionate son, "Harry. "

Next day young Little took leave of his friends in Cairnhope, with apromise to come over some Sunday, and see them all. He borrowed a hookedstick of his devotee, the blacksmith, and walked off with his littlebundle over his shoulder, in high health and spirits, and ripe for anything. 

Some successful men are so stout-hearted, their minds seem never toflinch. Others are elastic; they give way, and appear crushed; but, letthe immediate pressure be removed, they fly back again, and their enemyfinds he has not gained an inch. Henry's was of this sort; and, as heswung along through the clear brisk air, the world seemed his footballonce more. 

This same morning Jael Dence was to go to Cairnhope, at her own request. 

She packed her box, and corded it, and brought it down herself, and putit in the passage, and the carrier was to call for it at one. As forherself, four miles of omnibus, and the other seven on foot, was child'splay to her, whose body was as lusty and active as her heart was tenderand clinging. 

She came in to the drawing-room, with her bonnet and shawl on, and thetear in her eye, to bid Miss Carden good-bye. Two male friends wouldhave parted in five minutes; but this pair were a wonderful timeseparating, and still there was always something to say, that keptGrace detaining, or Jael lingering; and, when she had been going, going, going, for more than half an hour, all of a sudden she cried, out, "Oh!There he is!" and flushed all over. 

"Who?" asked Grace, eagerly. 

"The dark young man. He is at the door now, miss. And me going away, "she faltered. 

"Well then, why go till he has paid his visit? Sit down. You needn'ttake off your bonnet. "

Miss Carden then settled herself, took up her work, and prepared toreceive her preceptor as he deserved, an intention she conveyed to Jaelby a glance, just as Henry entered blooming with exercise and the keenair, and looking extremely handsome and happy. 

His reception was a chilling bow from Miss Carden, and from Jael a cheekblushing with pleasure at the bare sight of him, but an earnest lookof mild reproach. It seemed cruel of him to stay away so long, and thencome just as she was going. 

This reception surprised Henry, and disappointed him; however heconstrained himself, and said politely, but rather coldly, that someunpleasant circumstances had kept him away; but he hoped now to keep histime better. 

"Oh, pray consult your own convenience entirely, " said Miss Carden. "Come when you have nothing better to do; that is the understanding. "

"I should be always coming, at that rate. "

Grace took no notice. "Would you like to see how I look with my oneeyebrow?" said she. "Jael, please fetch it. "

While Jael was gone for the bust, Henry took a humbler tone, and in alow voice began to excuse his absence; and I think he would have toldthe real truth, if he had been encouraged a little; but he was met witha cold and withering assurance that it was a matter of no consequence. Henry thought this unfair, and, knowing in his own heart it wasungrateful, he rebelled. He bit his lip, sat down as gloomy as thegrave, and resumed his work, silent and sullen. 

As for Jael, she brought in the bust, and then sat down with herbonnet on, quaking; for she felt sure that, in such a dismal dearth ofconversation, Miss Carden would be certain to turn round very soon, andsay, "Well, Jael, you can go now. "

But this Quaker's meeting was interrupted by a doctor looking in toprescribe for Miss Carden's cold. The said cold was imperceptible tovulgar eyes, but Grace had detected it, and had written to her friend, Dr. Amboyne, to come and make it as imperceptible to herself as to thespectator. 

In rolled the doctor, and was not a little startled at sight of Little. 

"Hallo!" cried be. "What, cured already? Cairnhope forever!" He thenproceeded to feel his pulse instead of Miss Carden's, and inspect hiseye, at which Grace Carden stared. 

"What, is he unwell?"

"Why, a man does not get blown up with gunpowder without some littledisturbance of the system. "

"Blown up with gunpowder! What DO you mean?"

"What, have you not heard about it? Don't you read the newspapers?"

"No; never. "

"Merciful powers! But has he not told you?"

"No; he tells us nothing. "

"Then I'll tell you, it is of no use your making faces at me. There isno earthly reason why she should be kept in the dark. These Hillsboroughtrades want to drive this young man out of town: why--is too longand intricate for you to follow. He resists this tyranny, gently, butfirmly. "

"I'd resist it furiously, " said Grace. 

"The consequence is, they wrote him several threatening letters; and, atlast, some caitiff put gunpowder into his forge; it exploded, and blewhim out of a second-floor window. "

"Oh! oh!" screamed Grace Carden and Jael; and by one womanly impulsethey both put their hands before their faces, as if to shut out thehorrible picture. 

"What is that for?" said the doctor. "You see he is all right now. But, I promise you, he cut a very different figure when I saw him directlyafterward; he was scorched as black as a coal--"

"Oh, doctor, don't; pray don't. Oh, sir, why did you not tell me?"

"And his face bleeding, " continued the merciless doctor. 

"Oh dear! oh dear!" And the sweet eyes were turned, all swimming inwater upon Henry, with a look of angelic pity. 

"His nerves were terribly shaken, but there were no bones broken. I saidto myself, 'He must sleep or go mad, and he will not sleep in the townthat has blown him up. ' I just drove the patient off to peace and pureair, and confided him to one of the best creatures in England--MarthaDence. "

Jael uttered an exclamation of wonder, which drew attention to her andher glowing cheeks. 

"Oh yes, Miss Jael, " said Henry, "I was going to tell you. I have been afortnight with your people, and, if I live a hundred years, I shall notforget their goodness to me. God bless them. "

"'Twas the least they could do, " said Jael, softly. 

"What a pity you are going out. I should have liked to talk to you aboutyour father, and Martha, and George the blacksmith. Doctor, who wouldlive in a town after Cairnhope?"

Jael's fingers trembled at her bonnet-strings, and, turning a look ofpiteous supplication on Grace, she faltered out, "If you please, miss, might I stay over to-day?"

"Of course. And then he will tell you all about your people, and thatwill do just as well as you going to see them; and better. "

Off came Jael's bonnet with wonderful celerity. 

"Get the whole story out of him, " said Dr. Amboyne. "It is well worthyour attention. As for me, I must go as soon as I have prescribed foryou. What is the matter?"

"The matter is that there's nothing the matter; prescribe for that. Andthat I'm a goose--prescribe for that--and don't read the newspapers;prescribe for that. "

"Well, then, I prescribe the Hillsborough Liberal. It has drawn a strongpicture of this outrage, and shown its teeth to the Trades. And, if Imight advise a lady of your age and experience, I would say, infuture always read the newspapers. They are, compared with books, whatmachinery is compared with hand-labor. But, in this one instance, go tothe fountain-head, and ask Mr. Henry Little there, to tell you his owntragedy, with all the ins and outs. "

"Ah! if he would, " said Grace, turning her eyes on Henry. "But he is notso communicative to poor us. Is he, Jael?"

"No, miss. "

"He never even told us his name. Did he, Jael?"

"No, miss. He is very close. "

"Open him then, " said the doctor. "Come, come, there are a pair of you;and evidently disposed to act in concert; if you can not turn a maninside out, I disown you; you are a discredit to your sex. " He thenshook hands with all three of them, and rolled away. 

"Jael, " said Miss Carden, "oblige me by ringing the bell. "

A servant entered. 

"Not at home to any human creature, " said the young lady. 

The servant retired. 

"And, if they see me at the window, all the worse--for THEM. Now, Mr. Little?"

Henry complied, and told the whole story, with the exception of thethreat to his sweetheart; and passed two delightful hours. Who isso devoid of egotism as not to like to tell his own adventures tosympathizing beauty? He told it in detail, and even read them portionsof the threatening letters; and, as he told it, their lovely eyes seemedon fire; and they were red, and pale, by turns. He told it, like aman, with dignity, and sobriety, and never used an epithet. It was MissCarden who supplied the "Monsters!" "Villains!" "Cowards!" "Wretches!"at due intervals. And once she started from her seat, and said shecould not bear it. "I see through it all, " she cried. "That Jobson isa hypocrite; and he is at the bottom of it all. I hate him; and Parkinworse. As for the assassin, I hope God, who saw him, will punish him. What I want to do is to kill Jobson and Parkin, one after another; killthem--kill them--kill them--I'll tell papa. "

As for Jael, she could not speak her mind, but she panted heavily, andher fingers worked convulsively, and clutched themselves very tight atlast. 

When he had done his narrative, he said sadly, "I despise these fellowsas much as you do; but they are too many for me. I am obliged to leaveHillsborough. "

"What, let the wretches drive you away? I would never do that--if I wasa man. "

"What would you do, then?" asked Henry, his eye sparkling. 

"Do? Why fight them; and beat them; and kill them, it is not as if theywere brave men. They are only cunning cowards. I'd meet cunning withcunning. I'd outwit them somehow. I'd change my lodging every week, andlive at little inns and places. I'd lock up every thing I used, as wellas the rooms. I'd consult wiser heads, the editor of the Liberal, andthe Head of the police. I'd carry fire-arms, and have a bodyguard, night and day; but they should never say they had frightened me out ofHillsborough--if I was a man. "

"You are all right, " cried Henry. "I'll do all you advise me, and Iwon't be driven out of this place. I love it. I'll live in it or I'lldie in it. I'll never leave it. "

This was almost the last word that passed this delightful afternoon, when the sense of her own past injustice, the thrilling nature of thestory told by the very sufferer, and, above all, the presence and theundisguised emotion of another sympathizing woman, thawed Grace Carden'sreserve, warmed her courage, and carried her, quite unconsciously, overcertain conventional bounds, which had, hitherto, been strictly observedin her intercourse with this young workman. 

Henry himself felt that this day was an era in his love. When he leftthe door, he seemed to tread on air. He walked to the first cab-stand, took a conveyance to his mother's door, and soon he was locked in herarms. 

She had been fretting for hours at his delay; but she never let himknow it. The whole place was full of preparations for his comfort, andcertain delicacies he liked were laid out on a little side board, and the tea-things set, including the silver teapot, used now on highoccasions only. 

She had a thousand questions to ask, and he to answer. And, while heate, the poor woman leaned back, and enjoyed seeing him eat; and, while he talked, her fine eyes beamed with maternal joy. She reveleddeliciously in his health, his beauty, and his safe return to her;and thought, with gentle complacency, they would soon return to Londontogether. 

In the morning, she got out a large, light box, and said. "Harry, dear, I suppose I may as well begin to pack up. You know I take longer thanyou do. "

Henry blushed. "Pack up?" said he, hesitatingly. "We are not goingaway. "

"Not going away, love? Why you agreed to leave, on account of thosedreadful Unions. "

"Oh, I was ill, and nervous, and out of spirits; but the air ofCairnhope has made a man of me. I shall stay here, and make ourfortune. "

"But the air of Cairnhope has not made you friends with the unions. "She seemed to reflect a moment, then asked him at what time he had leftCairnhope. 

"Eleven o'clock. "

"Ah! And whom did you visit before you came to me?"

"You question me like a child, mother. "

"Forgive me, dear. I will answer my own question. You called on some onewho gave you bad advice. "

"Oh, did I?"

"On some woman. "

"Say, a lady"

"What does it matter to me?" cried Mrs. Little, wildly. "They are all myenemies. And this one is yours. It is a woman, who is not your mother, for she thinks more of herself than of you. "

CHAPTER VII. 

Henry had now to choose between his mother's advice, and Miss Carden'scommands; and this made him rather sullen and irritable. He was gladto get out of his mother's house, and went direct to the works. Baynewelcomed him warmly, and, after some friendly congratulations andinquiries, pulled out two files of journals, and told him he hadpromised to introduce him to the editor of the Liberal. He then beggedHenry to wait in the office, and read the files--he would not be gonemany minutes. 

The Constitutional gave a dry narrative of the outrage, and mourned thefrequency of such incidents. 

The Liberal gave a dramatic narrative, and said the miscreant must havelowered himself by a rope from the parapet, and passed the powder insidewithout entering. "He periled his life to perpetrate this crime; and healso risked penal servitude for ten years. That he was not deterred bythe double risk, proves the influence of some powerful motive; and thatmotive must have been either a personal feud of a very virulent kind, orelse trade fanaticism. From this alternative there is no escape. "

Next day, both journals recorded a trade-meeting at "The Rising Sun. "Delegates from the Edge-Tool Forgers' Union, and the Edge-Tool Handlers'Union, and some other representatives of Hillsborough Unions, werepresent, and passed a resolution repudiating, with disgust, the outragethat had been recently committed, and directed their secretaries tooffer a reward of twenty pounds, the same to be paid to any personwho would give such information as should lead to the discovery of theculprit. 

On this the Constitutional commented as follows:--"Although we neverfor a moment suspected these respectable Unions of conniving at thisenormity, yet it is satisfactory to find them not merely passivespectators, but exerting their energy, and spending their money, in apraiseworthy endeavor to discover and punish the offenders. "

Henry laid down the paper, and his heart felt very warm to Jobson andParkin. "Come, " said he, "I am glad of that. They are not half a badsort, those two, after all. "

Then he took up the Liberal, and being young and generous, feltdisgusted at its comment:

"This appears to be creditable to the two Unions in question. But, unfortunately, long experience proves that these small rewards neverlead to any discovery. They fail so invariably, that the Unions donot risk a shilling by proffering them. In dramatic entertainmentsthe tragedy is followed by a farce: and so it is with these sanguinarycrimes in Hillsborough; they are always followed by a repudiation, andoffers of a trumpery reward quite disproportionate to the offense, andthe only result of the farce is to divert attention from the true lineof inquiry as to who enacted the tragedy. The mind craves novelty, andperhaps these delegates will indulge that desire by informing us foronce, what was the personal and Corsican feud which led--as they wouldhave us believe--to this outrage; and will, at the same time, explainto us why these outrages with gunpowder have never, either in this or inany preceding case, attacked any but non-union men. "

When Henry had read thus far, the writer of the leader entered the roomwith Mr. Bayne. 

A gentleman not above the middle height, but with a remarkable chest, both broad and deep; yet he was not unwieldy, like Dr. Amboyne, butclean-built, and symmetrical. An agreeable face, with one remarkablefeature, a mouth full of iron resolution, and a slight humorous dimpleat the corners. 

He shook hands with Henry, and said, "I wish to ask you a question ortwo, in the way of business: but first let me express my sympathy, as aman, and my detestation of the ruffians that have so nearly victimizedyou. "

This was very hearty, and Henry thanked him with some emotion. "But, sir, " said he, "if I am to reply to your questions, you must promise meyou will never publish my name. "

"It is on account of his mother, " whispered Bayne. 

"Yes, sir. It was her misfortune to lose my father by a violent death, and of course you may imagine--"

"Say no more, " said Mr. Holdfast: "your name shall not appear. And--letme see--does your mother know you work here?"

"Yes, she does. "

"Then we had better keep Cheetham's name out as well. "

"Oh, thank you, sir, thank you. Now I'll answer any questions you like. "

"Well, then, I hear this outrage was preceded by several letters. CouldI see them?"

"Certainly. I carry mine always in my pocket, for fear my poor mothershould see them: and, Mr. Bayne, you have got Cheetham's. "

In another minute the whole correspondence was on the table, and Mr. Holdfast laid it out in order, like a map, and went through it, takingnotes. "What a comedy, " said he. "All but the denouement. Now, Mr. Bayne, can any other manufacturers show me a correspondence of thiskind?"

"Is there one that can't? There isn't a power-wheel, or a water-wheel, within eight miles of Hillsborough, that can't show you just such acorrespondence as this; and rattening, or worse, at the tail of it. "

Mr. Holdfast's eye sparkled like a diamond. "I'll make the round, " saidhe. "And, Mr. Little, perhaps you will be kind enough to go with me, and let me question you, on the road. I have no sub-editor; no staff;I carry the whole journal on my head. Every day is a hard race betweenTime and me, and not a minute to spare. "

Mr. Cheetham was expected at the works this afternoon: so Henry, onleaving Mr. Holdfast, returned to them, and found him there with Bayne, looking, disconsolately, over a dozen orders for carving-tools. 

"Glad to see you again, my lad, " said Cheetham. "Why, you look all thebetter. "

"I'm none the worse, sir. "

"Come to take your balance and leave me?" This was said halfplaintively, half crossly. 

"If you wish it, sir. "

"Not I. How is it to be?"

"Well, sir, I say to you what you said to me the other day, Stick to me, and I'll stick to you. "

"I'll stick to you. "

Bayne held up his hands piteously to them both. 

"What sir?" faltered he, turning to Cheetham, "after all yourexperience!" then to Henry, "What, fight the Trades, after the lessonthey have given you?"

"I'll fight them all the more for that, " said Henry, grinding his teeth;"fight them till all is blue. "

"So will I. That for the Trades!"

"Heaven help you both!" groaned Bayne, and looked the picture ofdespair. 

"You promised me shutters, with a detonator, sir. "

"Ay, but you objected. "

"That was before they blew me up. "

"Just so. Shutters shall be hung to-morrow; and the detonators I'll fixmyself. "

"Thank you, sir. Would you mind engaging a watchman?"

"Hum? Not--if you will share the expense. "

"I'll pay one-third. "

"Why should I pay two thirds? It is not like shutters and Bramah locks:they are property. However, he'll be good against rattening; and youhave lost a fortnight, and there are a good many orders. Give me a goodday's work, and we won't quarrel over the watchman. " He then inquired, rather nervously, whether there was anything more. 

"No, sir: we are agreed. And I'll give you good work, and full time. "

The die was cast, and now he must go home and face his mother. For thefirst time this many years he was half afraid to go near her. He dreadedremonstrances and tears: tears that he could not dry; remonstrances thatwould worry him, but could not shake him. 

This young man, who had just screwed his physical courage up to defy theredoubtable Unions had a fit of moral cowardice, and was so reluctant toencounter the gentlest woman in England, that he dined at a chop-house, and then sauntered into a music hall, and did not get home till pastten, meaning to say a few kind, hurried words, then yawn, and slip tobed. 

But, meantime, Mrs. Little's mind had not been idle. She had longdivined a young rival in her son's heart, and many a little pang ofjealousy had traversed her own. This morning, with a quickness which mayseem remarkable to those who have not observed the watchful keennessof maternal love, she had seen that her rival had worked upon Henry toresign his declared intention of leaving Hillsborough. Then she felt herway, and, in a moment, she had found the younger woman was the stronger. 

She assumed as a matter of course, that this girl was in love with Henry(who would not be in love with him?), and had hung, weeping, round hisneck, when he called from Cairnhope to bid her farewell, and had madehim promise to stay. This was the mother's theory; wrong, but rational. 

Then came the question, What should she do? Fight against youth andnature? Fight, unlikely to succeed, sure to irritate and disturb. Riskany of that rare affection and confidence her son had always given her?

While her thoughts ran this way, seven o'clock came, and no Henry. Eighto'clock, and no Henry. "Ah!" thought the mother, "that one word of minehas had this effect already. "

She prepared an exquisite little supper. She made her own toilet withparticular care; and, when all was ready, she sat down and comfortedherself by reading his letters, and comparing his love with the cavalierbehavior of so many sons in this island, the most unfilial country inEurope. 

At half past ten Henry came up the stairs, not with the usual lightelastic tread, but with slow, hesitating foot. Her quick ear caughtthat too, and her gentle bosom yearned. What, had she frightened him? Heopened the door, and she rose to receive him all smiles. "You are ratherlate, dear, " she said; "but all the better. It has given me an excusefor reading your dear letters all over again; and I have a thousandquestions to ask you about Cairnhope. But sit down first, and have yoursupper. "

Henry brightened up, and ate a good supper, and his mother plied himwith questions, all about Cairnhope. 

Here was an unexpected relief. Henry took a superficial view of allthis. Sharp young men of twenty-four understand a great many things; butthey can't quite measure their mothers yet. 

Henry was selfishly pleased, but not ungrateful, and they passed apleasant and affectionate time: and, as for leaving Hillsborough, thetopic was avoided by tacit consent. 

Next morning, after this easy victory, Henry took a cab and got to"Woodbine Villa" by a circuitous route. His heart beat high as heentered the room where Grace was seated. After the extraordinary warmthand familiarity she had shown him at the last interview, he took forgranted he had made a lasting progress in her regard. 

But she received him with a cold and distant manner, that quite benumbedhim. Grace Carden's face and manner were so much more expressive thanother people's, that you would never mistake or doubt the mood she wasin; and this morning she was freezing. 

The fact is, Miss Carden had been tormenting herself: and when beautysuffers, it is very apt to make others suffer as well. 

"I am glad you are come, Mr. Little, " said she, "for I have been takingmyself to task ever since, and I blame myself very much for some thingsI said. In the first place, it was not for me" (here the fair speakercolored up to the temples) "to interfere in your affairs at all:and then, if I must take such a liberty, I ought to have advised yousensibly, and for your good. I have been asking people, and they alltell me it is madness for one person to fight against these Unions. Everybody gets crushed. So now let me hope you will carry out your wiseintention, and leave Hillsborough; and then my conscience will be atease. "

Every word fell like an icicle on her hearer's heart. To please thiscold, changeful creature, he had settled to defy the unchangeableUnions, and had been ready to resist his mother, and slight her immortaland unchanging love. 

"You don't answer me, sir!" said Miss Carden, with an air of loftysurprise. 

"I answered you yesterday, " said he sullenly. "A man can't chop andchange like a weathercock. "

"But it is not changing, it's only going back to your own intention. You know you were going to leave Hillsborough, before I talked all thatnonsense. Your story had set me on fire, and that's my only excuse. Well, now, the same person takes the liberty to give you wise andconsiderate advice, instead of hot, and hasty, romantic nonsense. Whichought you to respect most--folly or reason--from the same lips?"

Henry seemed to reflect. "That sounds reasonable, " said he: "but, whenyou advised me not to show the white feather, you spoke your heart; now, you are only talking from your head. Then, your beautiful eyes flashedfire, and your soul was in your words: who could resist them? And youspoke to me like a friend; now you speak to me like an enemy. "

"Oh, Mr. Little, that is ridiculous. "

"You do, though. And I'm sure I don't know why. "

"Nor I. Perhaps because I am cross with myself; certainly not with you. "

"I am glad of that. Well, then, the long and the short is, you showed meyou thought it cowardly to fly from the Trades. You wouldn't, said you, if you were a man. Well, I'm a man; and I'll do as you would do in myplace. I'll not throw my life away, I'll meet craft with craft, andforce with force; but fly I never will. I'll fight while I've a leg tostand on. "

With these words he began to work on the bust, in a quiet dogged waythat was, nevertheless, sufficiently expressive. 

Grace looked at him silently for half a minute, and then rose from herchair. 

"Then, " said she, "I must go for somebody of more authority than I am. "She sailed out of the room. 

Henry asked Jael who she was gone for. 

"It will be her papa, " said Jael. 

"As if I care for what he says. "

"I wouldn't show HER that, if I was you, " said Jael, quietly, but with agood deal of weight. 

"You are right, " said Henry. "You are a good girl. I don't know whichis the best, you or Martha. I say, I promised to go to Cairnhope someSunday, and see them all. Shall I drive you over?"

"And bring me back at night?"

"If you like. I must come back. "

"I'll ask Miss Carden. "

The words were quiet and composed, but the blushing face beamed withunreasonable happiness; and Grace, who entered at that moment with herfather, was quite struck with its eloquence; she half started, buttook no further notice just then. "There, papa, " said she, "this is Mr. Little. "

Mr. Carden was a tall gentleman, with somewhat iron features, but a finehead of gray hair; rather an imposing personage; not the leastpompous though; quite a man of the world, and took a business view ofeverything, matrimony, of course, included. 

"Oh, this is Mr. Little, is it, whose work we all admire so much?"

"Yes, papa. "

"And whose adventure has made so much noise?"

"Yes, papa. "

"By-the-bye, there is an article to-day on you: have you seen it? No?But you should see it; it is very smart. My dear" (to Jael), "will yougo to my study, and bring the Liberal here?"

"Yes, but meantime, I want you to advise him not to subject himselfto more gunpowder and things, but to leave the town; that is all thewretches demand. "

"And that, " said Henry, with a sly, deferential tone, "is a good deal todemand in a free country, is it not, sir?"

"Indeed it is. Ah, here comes the Liberal. Somebody read the article tous, while he works. I want to see how he does it. "

Curiosity overpowered Grace's impatience, for a moment, and she read thenotice out with undisguised interest. 

"'THE LAST OUTRAGE. 

"'In our first remarks upon this matter, we merely laid down analternative which admits of no dispute; and, abstaining from idleconjectures, undertook to collect evidence. We have now had an interviewwith the victim of that abominable outrage. Mr. ---- is one of thosesuperior workmen who embellish that class for a few years, butinvariably rise above it, and leave it' (there--Mr. Little!)--'He hasinformed us that he is a stranger in Hillsborough, lives retired, neversits down in a public-house, and has not a single enemy in Hillsborough, great or small. He says that his life was saved by his fellow-workmen, and that as he lay scorched--'(Oh, dear!')

"Well, go on, Grace. "

"It is all very well to say go on, papa--'scorched and bleeding on theground and unable to distinguish faces' (poor, poor Mr. Little!) 'heheard, on all sides of him, expressions of rugged sympathy and sobs, andtears, from rough, but--manly fellows, who--'(oh! oh! oh!")

Grace could not go on for whimpering, and Jael cried, for company. Henryleft off carving, and turned away his head, touched to the heart by thissweet and sudden sympathy. 

"How badly you read, " said Mr. Carden, and took the journal from her. He read in a loud business-like monotone, that, like some blessed balm, dried every tear. "'Manly fellows who never shed a tear before: thisdisposed of one alternative, and narrowed the inquiry. It was not apersonal feud; therefore it was a Trade outrage, or it was nothing. Wenow took evidence bearing on the inquiry thus narrowed; and we found theassault had been preceded by a great many letters, all of them breathingthe spirit of Unionism, and none of them intimating a private wrong. These letters, taken in connection, are a literary curiosity; and wefind there is scarcely a manufacturer in the place who has not endureda similar correspondence, and violence at the end of it. This curiouschapter of the human mind really deserves a separate heading, and weintroduce it to our readers as

"THE LITERATURE OF OUTRAGE. "

"'First of all comes a letter to the master intimating that he is doingsomething objectionable to some one of the many Unions that go to makea single implement of hardware. This letter has three features. It issigned with a real name. It is polite. It is grammatical. 

"'If disregarded, it is speedily followed by another. No. 2 isgrammatical, or thereabouts; but, under a feigned politeness, theinsolence of a vulgar mind shows itself pretty plainly, and the masteris reminded what he suffered on some former occasion when he rebelledagainst the trades. This letter is sometimes anonymous, generallypseudonymous. 

"'If this reminder of the past and intimation of the future isdisregarded, the refractory master gets a missive, which begins withan affectation of coarse familiarity, and then rises, with a ludicrousbound, into brutal and contemptuous insolence. In this letter, grammaris flung to the winds, along with good manners; but spelling survives, by a miracle. Next comes a short letter, full of sanguinary threats, andwritten in, what we beg leave to christen, the Dash dialect, because, though used by at least three million people in England, and threethousand in Hillsborough, it can only be printed with blanks, thereason being simply this, that every sentence is measled with oaths andindecencies. These letters are also written phonetically, and, as thepronunciation, which directs the spelling, is all wrong, the doubleresult is prodigious. Nevertheless, many of these pronunciations areancient, and were once universal. An antiquarian friend assures us theorthography of these blackguards, the scum of the nineteenth century, iswonderfully like that of a mediaeval monk or baron. 

"'When the correspondence has once descended to the Dash dialect, written phonetically, it never remounts toward grammar, spellingor civilization; and the next in the business is rattening, or elsebeating, or shooting, or blowing-up the obnoxious individual by himself, or along with a houseful of people quite strange to the quarrel. Now, itis manifest to common sense, that all this is one piece of mosaic, andthat the criminal act it all ends in is no more to be disconnected fromthe last letter, than the last letter from its predecessor, or letterthree from letter two. Here is a crime first gently foreshadowed, thengrimly intimated, then directly threatened, then threatened in wordsthat smell of blood and gunpowder, and then--done. The correspondenceand the act reveal--

"The various talents, but the single mind. "

"'In face of this evidence, furnished by themselves, the trades Unions, some member of which has committed this crime, will do well to drop theworn-out farce of offering a trumpery reward and to take a direct andmanly course. They ought to accept Mr. ----'s preposterously liberaloffer, and admit him to the two Unions, and thereby disown the criminalact in the form most consolatory to the sufferer: or else they shouldface the situation, and say, "This act was done under our banner, thoughnot by our order, and we stand by it. " The Liberal will continue towatch the case. '"

"This will be a pill, " said Mr. Carden, laying down the paper. "Why, they call the Liberal the workman's advocate. "

"Yes, papa, " said Grace; "but how plainly he shows--But Mr. Little is astranger, and even this terrible lesson has not--So do pray advise him. "

"I shall be very happy; but, when you are my age, you will know it is oflittle use intruding advice upon people. "

"Oh, Mr. Little will treat it with proper respect, coming from one somuch older than himself, and better acquainted with this wretched town. Will you not, Mr. Little?" said she, with so cunning a sweetness thatthe young fellow was entrapped, and assented, before he knew what he wasabout; then colored high at finding himself committed. 

Mr. Carden reflected a moment. He then said, "I can't take upon myselfto tell any man to give up his livelihood. But one piece of advice I canconscientiously give Mr. Little. "

"Yes, papa. "

"And that is--TO INSURE HIS LIFE. "

"Oh, papa!" cried Grace. 

As for Henry he was rather amused, and his lip curled satirically. Butthe next moment he happened to catch sight of Jael Dence's face; hergray eyes were expanded with a look of uneasiness; and, directly shecaught his eye she fixed it, and made him a quick movement of the head, directing him to assent. 

There was something so clear and decided in the girl's manner that itoverpowered Henry who had no very clear idea to oppose to it, and heactually obeyed the nod of this girl, whom he had hitherto looked on asan amiable simpleton. 

"I have no objection to that, " said he, turning to Mr. Carden. Then, after another look at Jael, he said, demurely, "Is there any insuranceoffice you could recommend?"

Mr. Carden smiled. "There is only one I have a right to recommend, andthat is the 'Gosshawk. ' I am a director. But, " said he, with suddenstiffness, "I could furnish you with the names of many others. "

Henry saw his way clear by this time. "No, sir, if I profit by youradvice, the least I can do is to choose the one you are a director of. "

Grace, who had latterly betrayed uneasiness and irritation, now rose, red as fire. "The conversation is taking a turn I did not at allintend, " said she, and swept out of the room with royal disdain. 

Her father apologized carelessly for her tragical exit. "That is ayoung lady who detests business; but she does not object to itsfruits--dresses, lace, footmen, diamonds, and a carriage to drive aboutin. On the contrary, she would be miserable without them. "

"I should hope she never will be without them, sir. "

"I'll take care of that. "

Mr. Carden said this rather dryly, and then retired for a minute; andGrace who was not far off, with an ear like a hare, came back soonafter. 

But in the meantime Henry left his seat and went to Jael, and, leaningover her as she worked, said, "There is more in that head of yours thanI thought. "

"Oh, they all talk before me, " said Jael, blushing faintly, and avoidinghis eye. 

"Jael Dence, " said the young man, warmly, "I'm truly obliged to you. "

"What for?"

"For your good advice. I didn't see how good it was till after I hadtaken it. "

"I'm afeard Miss Grace gave you better. "

"She advised me against my heart. What is the use of that?"

"Ay, young men are willful. "

"Come, come, don't you go back. You are my friend and counselor. "

"That is something, " said Jael, in a low voice; and her hands trembledat her side. 

"Why, my dear girl, what's the matter?"

"Hush! hush?"

CHAPTER VIII. 

Grace came in, that moment, with a superb air. She settled herself onthe sofa. 

"Now, it is my turn, if you please. Pray, sir, do you think your lifewill be any safer for your insuring it? Insuring does not mean thatyou are not to be killed; but that, when you ARE, for your obstinacy, somebody else will get paid some money, to dance with over your grave. "

"I beg your pardon, Grace, " said Mr. Carden, entering with some printedpapers in his hand. "That is not the only use of an insurance. He maywant to marry, or to borrow a sum of money to begin business; and thena policy of insurance, with two or three premiums paid, smooths thedifficulty. Everybody should make a will, and everybody should insurehis life. "

"Well then, sir, I will do both. "

"Stop!" said Mr. Carden, who could now afford to be candid. "First ofall, you ought to satisfy yourself of the flourishing condition of thecompany. " He handed him a prospectus. "This will show you our capital, and our disbursements last year, and the balance of profit declared. Andthis gives the balance sheet of the 'Vulture' and the 'Falcon, ' whichhave assigned their business to us, and are now incorporated in the'Gosshawk. '"

"Oh, what a voracious bird!" observed Grace. "I hope these otherchickabiddies will not prove indigestible. Were they plucked first, papa? or did the 'Gosshawk' swallow them feathers and all?"

Little laughed heartily at this pert sally, but Mr. Carden winced underit. 

Then Grace saw she was not quite weaponless, and added, "After such ameal, as that, Mr. Little, you will go down like a crumb. "

"Grace, that is enough, " said Mr. Carden, rather severely. 

Grace held her tongue directly, and the water came into her eyes. Anything like serious remonstrance was a novelty to her. 

When Henry had read the papers, Mr. Carden asked him, rather carelessly, what sum he wished to be insured for. 

Now Henry had so little wish about the matter, that he had not given ita thought, and the question took him quite aback. He looked helplesslyat Jael. To his surprise, she decided on the sum for him, without amoment's hesitation, and conveyed the figure with that dexterity whichthe simplest of her sex can command whenever telegraphy is wanted. Shedid it with two unbroken movements; she put up all the fingers of herright hand to her brow, and that meant five: then she turned her handrapidly, so as to hide her mouth from the others, who were both on herright hand, and she made the word thousand clear, with her lips andtongue, especially the "th. "

But the sum staggered Henry; and made him think he must bemisinterpreting her. 

He hesitated, to gain time. "Hum!" said he, "the sum?"

Jael repeated her pantomime as before. 

Still Henry doubted, and, to feel his way, said, half interrogatively, "Five--thou--sand?"

Jael nodded. 

"Five thousand pounds, " said Henry, as bold as brass. 

"Five thousand pounds!" cried Mr. Carden. "A workman insure his life forfive thousand pounds!"

"Well, a man's life is worth five thousand pounds, or it is worthnothing. And, sir, how long do you think I shall be a workman, especially in Hillsborough, where from workman to master is no more thanhopping across a gutter?"

Mr. Carden smiled approval. "But five thousand pounds! The annualpremium will be considerable. May I ask about how much you make a year?"

"Oh, papa!"

"Well, sir, Mr. Cheetham pays me L300 a year, at the rate of, and I canmake another L100 by carving at odd times. But, if you doubt my ability, let us stay as we are, sir. It was your proposal, not mine, you know. "

"Young man, " said Mr. Carden, "never be peppery in business. " Hesaid this so solemnly and paternally, it sounded like the eleventhcommandment. 

To conclude, it was arranged Henry should take the higher class ofinsurance, which provided for accidents, voyages, everything, and shouldbe insured for L5000, provided the physician appointed by the companyshould pronounce him free from disease. 

Henry then rose, and said, sorrowfully, to Grace, "You will not see mehere very often now; and never on Saturday afternoon or Monday morning. I am not going to have some blackguard tracking me, and flinging acan of gunpowder in at your window. When I do come, it will be in themorning, and on a working day; and I shall perhaps go ten miles roundto get here. It must be diamond cut diamond, for many a month to come, between the Trades and me. " He uttered these words with manly gravity, as one who did not underrate the peril he was resolved to face; and leftthem with a respectful bow. 

"That's a rising man, " said Mr. Carden; "and may draw a hundred of hisclass to the 'Gosshawk. ' It was a good stroke of business, quite out ofthe common. "

Grace said not a word, but she shook her head and looked pained and illat ease. Jael watched her fixedly. 

Henry called at the works that night, and examined the new defenses, with Mr. Cheetham. He also bought a powerful magnifying-glass; and nextmorning he came to the factory, examined the cinders, and everythingelse, with the magnifier, lighted his forge, and resumed his work. 

At dinner-time he went out and had his chop, and read the Liberal; itcontained a letter from Jobson, in reply to the editor. 

Jobson deplored the criminal act, admitted that the two Unions haddecided no individual could be a forger, a handler, and a cutler; suchan example was subversive of all the Unions in the city, based, as theywere, on subdivision of crafts. "But, " said Mr Jobson, "we were dealingwith the matter in a spirit quite inconsistent with outrages, and Iam so anxious to convince the public of this, that I have asked avery experienced gentleman to examine our minute-books, and reportaccordingly. "

This letter was supplemented by one from Mr. Grotait, secretary of theSaw-Grinders, which ran thus:--"Messrs. Parkin and Jobson have appealedto me to testify to certain facts. I was very reluctant to interfere, for obvious reasons; but was, at last, prevailed on to examine theminute-books of those two Unions, and they certainly do prove that onthe very evening before the explosion, those trades had fully discussedMr. ----'s case" (the real name was put, but altered by the editor), "and had disposed of it as follows. They agreed, and this is enteredaccordingly, to offer him his traveling expenses (first class) toLondon, and one pound per week, from their funds, until such time as heshould obtain employment. I will only add, that both these secretariesspoke kindly to me of Mr. ----; and, believing them to be sincere, Iventured to advise them to mark their disapproval of the criminal act, by offering him two pounds per week, instead of one pound; which advicethey have accepted very readily. "

Henry was utterly confounded by these letters. 

Holdfast commented on them thus:

"Messrs. Jobson and Parkin virtually say that if A, for certain reasons, pushes a man violently out of Hillsborough, and B draws him gentlyout of Hillsborough for the same reasons, A and B can not possibly beco-operating. Messrs. Parkin and Jobson had so little confidence inthis argument, which is equivalent to saying there is no such thing ascunning in trade, that they employed a third party to advance it withall the weight of his popularity and seeming impartiality. But who isthis candid person that objects to assume the judge, and assumes thejudge? He is the treasurer and secretary of an Union that does notnumber three hundred persons; yet in that small Union, of which heis dictator, there has been as much rattening, and more shooting, andblowing-up wholesale and retail, with the farcical accompaniment ofpublic repudiation, than in all the other Unions put together. Weconsider the entrance of this ingenuous personage on the scene a badomen, and shall watch all future proceedings with increased suspicion. "

Henry had hardly done reading this, when a man came into the works, and brought him his fifteen pounds back from Mr. Jobson, and a line, offering him his expenses to London, and two pounds per week, from theEdge-Tool Forgers' box, till he should find employment. Henry took hismoney, and sent back word that the proposal came too late; after thedastardly attempt to assassinate him, he should defy the Unions, untilthey accepted his terms. Jobson made no reply. And Henry defied theUnions. 

The Unions lay still, like some great fish at the bottom of a pool, andgave no sign of life or animosity. This did not lull Henry into a falsesecurity. He never relaxed a single precaution. He avoided "WoodbineVilla;" he dodged and doubled like a hare, to hide his own abode. But heforged, handled, and finished, in spite of the Unions. 

The men were civil to him in the yard, and he had it all his own way, apparently. 

He was examined by a surgeon, and reported healthy. He paid theinsurance premium, and obtained the policy. So now he felt secure, underthe aegis of the Press, and the wing of the "Gosshawk. " By-and-by, thatgreat fish I have mentioned gave a turn of its tail, and made his placidwaters bubble a little. 

A woman came into the yard, with a can of tea for her husband, and afull apron. As she went out, she emptied a set of tools out of her apronon to an old grindstone, and slipped out. 

The news of this soon traveled into the office, and both Cheetham andBayne came out to look at them. 

They were a set of carving-tools, well made, and highly polished; andthere was a scrap of paper with this distich:

 "We are Hillsborough made, Both haft and blade. "

Cheetham examined them, and said, "Well, they are clever fellows. Ideclare these come very near Little's: call him down and let us drawhim. "

Bayne called to Henry, and that brought him down, and several more, whowinded something. 

"Just look at these, " said Cheetham. 

Little colored: he saw the finger of the Unions at once, and bristledall over with caution and hostility. 

"I see them, sir. They are very fair specimens of cutlery; and there areonly about twenty tools wanting to make a complete set; but there is onedefect in them as carving-tools. "

"What is that?"

"They are useless. You can't carve wood with them. None but a practicalcarver can design these tools, and then he must invent and make thesteel molds first. Try and sell them in London or Paris, you'll soonfind the difference. Mr. Bayne, I wonder you should call me frommy forge to examine 'prentice-work. " And, with this, he walked offdisdainfully, but not quite easy in his mind, for he had noticed agreedy twinkle in Cheetham's eye. 

The next day all the grinders in Mr. Cheetham's employ, except thescissors-grinders, rose, all of a sudden, like a flock of partridges, and went out into the road. 

"What is up now?" inquired Bayne. The answer was, their secretaries hadsent for them. 

They buzzed in the road, for a few minutes, and then came back to work. 

At night there was a great meeting at the "Cutlers' Arms, " kept by Mr. Grotait. 

At noon the next day, all the grinders aforesaid in Mr. Cheetham'semploy walked into the office, and left, each of them, a signed paper tothis effect:

"This is to give you notice that I will leave your service a week afterthe date thereof. " (Meaning "hereof, " I presume. )

Cheetham asked several of them what was up. Some replied civilly, it wasa trade matter. Others suggested Mr. Cheetham knew as much about it asthey did. 

Not a single hot or uncivil word was spoken on either side. The game hadbeen played too often for that, and with results too various. 

One or two even expressed a sort of dogged regret. The grinder Reynolds, a very honest fellow, admitted, to Mr. Cheetham, that he thought ita sorry trick, for a hundred men to strike against one that had had asqueak for his life. "But no matter what I think or what I say, I mustdo what the Union bids me, sir. "

"I know that, my poor fellow, " said Cheetham. "I quarrel with none ofyou. I fight you all. The other masters, in this town, are mice, but I'ma man. "

This sentiment he repeated very often during the next six days. 

The seventh came and the grinders never entered the works. 

Cheetham looked grave. However, he said to Bayne, "Go and find out wherethey are. Do it cleverly now. Don't be noticed. "

Bayne soon ascertained they were all in the neighboring public-houses. 

"I thought so, " said Cheetham. "They will come in, before night. Theysha'n't beat me, the vagabonds. I'm a man, I'm not a mouse. "

"Orders pouring in, sir, " sighed Bayne. "And the grinders are ratherbehind the others in their work already. "

"They must have known that: or why draw out the grinders? How could theyknow it?"

"Sir, " said Bayne, "they say old Smitem is in this one. Wherever he is, the master's business is known, or guessed, heaven knows how; and, if there is a hole in his coat, that hole is hit. Just look at thecleverness of it, sir. Here we are, wrong with the forgers and handlers. Yet they come into the works and take their day's wages. But they drawout the grinders, and mutilate the business. They hurt you as much as ifthey struck, and lost their wages. But no, they want their wages to helppay the grinders on strike. Your only chance was to discharge every manin the works, the moment the grinders gave notice. "

"Why didn't you tell me so, then?"

"Because I'm not old Smitem. He can see a thing beforehand. I can see itafterward. I'm like the weatherwise man's pupil; as good as my master, give me time. The master could tell you, at sunrise, whether the daywould be wet or dry, and the pupil he could tell you at sunset: and thatis just the odds between old Smitem and me. "

"Well, if he is old Smitem, I'm old Fightem. "

At night, he told Bayne he had private information, that the grinderswere grumbling at being made a cat's-paw of by the forgers and thehandlers. "Hold on, " said he; "they will break up before morning. "

At ten o'clock next day he came down to the works, and some peremptoryorders had poured in. "They must wait, " said he, peevishly. 

At twelve he said, "How queer the place seems, and not a grindstonegoing. It seems as still as the grave. I'm a man; I'm not a mouse. "

Mr. Cheetham repeated this last fact in zoology three times, to leave nodoubt of it in his own mind, I suppose. 

At 1. 00, he said he would shut up the works rather than be a slave. 

At 1. 15 he blustered. 

At 1. 20 he gave in: collapsed in a moment, like a punctured bladder. "Bayne, " said he, with a groan, "go to Jobson, and ask him to come andtalk this foolish business over. "

"Excuse me, sir, " said Bayne. "Don't be offended; but you are vexed andworried, and whoever the Union sends to you will be as cool as marble. Ihave just heard it is Redcar carries the conditions. "

"What, the foreman of my own forgers! Is he to dictate to me?" criedCheetham, grinding his teeth with indignation. 

"Well, sir, what does it matter?" said Bayne, soothingly. "He is no morethan a mouthpiece. "

"Go for him, " said Cheetham, sullenly. 

"But, sir, I can't bear that your own workman should see you soagitated. "

"Oh, I shall be all right the moment I see my man before me. "

Bayne went off, and soon returned with Redcar. The man had his coat on, but had not removed his leathern apron. 

Cheetham received him as the representative of the Unions. "Sit down, Redcar, and let us put an end to this little bother. What do yourequire?"

"Mr. Little's discharge, sir. "

"Are you aware he is with me on a month's notice?"

"They make a point of his leaving the works at once, sir; and I was tobeg you to put other hands into his room. "

"It is taking a great liberty to propose that. "

"Nay. They only want to be satisfied. He has given a vast o' trouble. "

"I'll give him a month's warning. If I discharge him on the spot, he cansue me. "

"That has been thought on. If he sues you, you can talk to the Unions, and they will act with you. But the grinders are not to come in tillLittle is out. "

"Well, so be it, then. "

"And his rooms occupied by Union men?"

"If I swallow the bolus, I may as well swallow the pills. Anythingmore?"

"The grinders are not to lose their time; a day and a half. "

"What! am I to pay them for not working?"

"Well, sir, if we had come to you, of course the forgers and handlerswould have paid the grinders for lost time; but, as you have come to us, you will have to pay them. "

Cheetham made a wry face; but acquiesced. 

"And then, sir, " said Redcar, "there's another little matter. Theincidental expenses of the strike. "

"I don't know what you mean. "

"The expenses incurred by the secretaries, and a little presentto another gentleman, who advised us. It comes to thirty poundsaltogether. "

"What!" cried Cheetham, struggling with his rising choler. "You want meto pay men thirty pounds for organizing a strike, that will cost me sodear, and rob me of a whole trade that was worth L300 a year? Why notcharge me for the gunpowder you blew up Little with, and spoiled myforge? No, Bayne, no; this is too unjust and too tyrannical. Fleshand blood won't bear it. I'll shut up the works, and go back to mygrindstone. Better live on bread and water than live like a slave. "

Redcar took a written paper out of his pocket. "There are the termswritten down, " said he, "if you sign them, the strike ends; if youdon't, it continues--till you do. "

Cheetham writhed under the pressure. Orders were pouring in; tradebrisk; hands scarce. Each day would add a further loss of many poundsfor wages, and doubtless raise fresh exactions. He gulped down somethingvery like a sob, and both his hand and his voice shook with strongpassion as he took the pen. "I'll sign it; but if ever my turn comes, I'll remember this against you. This shows what they really are, Bayne. Oh, if ever you workmen get power, GOD HELP THE WORLD!"

These words seemed to come in a great prophetic agony out of a burstingheart. 

But the representative of the Unions was neither moved by them norirritated. 

"All right, " said he, phlegmatically; "the winner takes his bite: theloser gets his bark: that's reason. "

Henry Little was in his handling-room, working away, with a brightperspective before him, when Bayne knocked at the door, and entered withRedcar. Bayne's face wore an expression so piteous, that Henry divinedmischief at once. 

"Little, my poor fellow, it is all over. We are obliged to part withyou. "

"Cheetham has thrown me over?"

"What could he do? I am to ask you to vacate these rooms, that we mayget our half-day out of the grinders. "

Henry turned pale, but there was no help for it. 

He got up in a very leisurely way; and, while he was putting on hiscoat, he told Bayne, doggedly, he should expect his month's salary. 

As he was leaving, Redcar spoke to him in rather a sheepish way. "Shakehands, old lad, " said he; "thou knows one or t'other must win; andthere's not a grain of spite against thee. It's just a trade matter. "

Henry stood with his arms akimbo, and looked at Redcar. "I was inhopes, " said he, grinding his teeth, "you were going to ask me to take aturn with you in the yard, man to man. But I can't refuse my hand to oneof my own sort that asks it. There 'tis. After all, you deserve to win, for you are true to each other; but a master can't be true to a man, norto anything on earth, but his pocket. "

He then strolled out into the yard, with his hands in his pockets, andwhistled "The Harmonious Blacksmith" very sick at heart. 

CHAPTER IX. 

The strike was over, the grinders poured into the works, and thegrindstones revolved. Henry Little leaned against an angle of thebuilding, and listened with aching heart to their remorseless thunder. He stood there disconsolate--the one workman out of work--and sippedthe bitter cup, defeat. Then he walked out at the gates, and wanderedlanguidly into the streets. He was miserable, and had nobody to mournto, for the main cause of his grief lay beneath the surface of thisdefeat; and how could he reveal it, now that his ambitious love lookedutter madness? Young as he was, he had seen there is no sympathy in theworld for any man who loves out of his sphere. Indeed, whatever curesor crushes such a passion, is hailed by the by-standers as a sharp butwholesome medicine. 

He sauntered about, and examined all the shops with lack-luster eye. Helooked in at everything, but observed nothing, scarcely saw anything. All his senses were turned inward. It was such a pitiable and gallingresult of a gallant fight. Even the insurance office had got the betterof him. It had taken one-third of his savings, and the very next day histrade was gone, and his life in no danger. The "Gosshawk" had pluckedhim, and the trade had tied his hands. Rack his invention how he would, he could see no way of becoming a master in Hillsborough, except byleaving Hillsborough, and working hard and long in some other town. Hefelt in his own heart the love and constancy to do this; but his reasontold him such constancy would be wasted; for while he was working at adistance, the impression, if any, he had made on her would wear away, and some man born with money, would step in and carry her gayly off. This thought returned to him again and again, and exasperated him so atlast, that he resolved to go to "Woodbine Villa, " and tell her his heartbefore he left the place. Then he should be rejected, no doubt, butperhaps pitied, and not so easily forgotten as if he had melted silentlyaway. 

He walked up the hill, first rapidly, then slowly. He called at"Woodbine Villa. "

The answer was "Not at home. "

"Everything is against me, " said he. 

He wandered wearily down again, and just at the entrance of the townhe met a gentleman with a lady on each arm, and one of those ladies wasMiss Carden. The fortunate cavalier was Mr. Coventry, whom Henry wouldhave seen long before this, but he had been in Paris for the last fourmonths. He had come back fuller than ever of agreeable gossip, and Gracewas chatting away to him, and beaming with pleasure, as innocent girlsdo, when out on a walk with a companion they like. She was so absorbedshe did not even see Henry Little. He went off the pavement to make roomfor their tyrannical crinolines, and passed unnoticed. 

He had flushed with joy at first sight of her, but now a deadly qualmseized him. The gentleman was handsome and commanding; Miss Cardenseemed very happy, hanging on his arm; none the less bright and happythat he, her humble worshiper, was downcast and wretched. 

It did not positively prove much; yet it indicated how little he mustbe to her: and somehow it made him realize more clearly the greatdisadvantage at which he lay, compared with an admirer belonging to herown class. Hitherto his senses had always been against his reason: butnow for once they co-operated with his judgment, and made him feel that, were he to toil for years in London, or Birmingham, and amass a fortune, he should only be where that gentleman was already; and while theworkman, far away, was slaving, that gentleman and others would becourting her. She might refuse one or two. But she would not refuse themall. 

Then, in his despair, he murmured, "Would to God I had never seen her!"

He made a fierce resolve he would go home, and tell his mother she couldpack up. 

He quickened his steps, for fear his poor sorrowful heart should falter. 

But, when he had settled on this course, lo! a fountain of universalhatred seemed to bubble in his heart. He burned to inflict some mortalinjury upon Jobson, Parkin, Grotait, Cheetham, and all who had takena part, either active or passive, in goading him to despair. Now Mr. Cheetham's works lay right in his way; and it struck him he could makeCheetham smart a little. Cheetham's god was money. Cheetham had thrownhim over for money. He would go to Cheetham, and drive a dagger into hispocket. 

He walked into the office. Mr. Cheetham was not there: but he foundBayne and Dr. Amboyne. 

"Mr. Bayne, " said he, abruptly, "I am come for my month's wages. "

The tone was so aggressive, Bayne looked alarmed. "Why, Little, poor Mr. Cheetham is gone home with a bad headache, and a sore heart. "

"All the better. I don't want to tell him to his face he is a braggingcur; all I want out of him now is my money; and you can pay me that. "

The pacific Bayne cast a piteous glance at Dr. Amboyne. "I have told youthe whole business, sir. Oughtn't Mr. Little to wait till to-morrow, andtalk it over with Mr. Cheetham? I'm only a servant: and a man of peace. "

"Whether he ought or not, I think I can answer for him that he will. "

"I can't, sir, " said Henry, sturdily. "I leave the town to-morrow. "

"Oh, that alters the case. But must you leave us so soon?"

"Yes, sir. "

"I am very sorry for that. Tell me your reason. I don't ask out of merecuriosity. "

Henry replied with less than his usual candor; "Is it not reason enoughfor leaving a place, that my life has been attempted in it, and now mylivelihood is taken?"

"Those are strong reasons. But, on the other hand, your life is nolonger in danger; and your livelihood is not gone; for, to speakplainly, I came over here the moment I heard you were discharged, toask if you would enter my service on the same terms as Mr. Cheetham gaveyou, only guineas instead of pounds. "

"What, turn doctor?"

"Oh dear, no; the doctors' Union would forbid that. No, Mr. Little, I amgoing to ask you to pay me a compliment; to try my service blindfold forone week. You can leave it if you don't like it; but give me one week'strial. "

"How can I refuse you that?" said Henry, hanging his head. "You havebeen a good friend to me. But, sir, mark my words, this place will be mydestruction. Well, when am I to begin work?"

"To-morrow, at ten. "

"So be it, " said Henry, wearily, then left the works and went home;but, as he went, he said to himself. "It is not my doing. " And hisdouble-faced heart glowed and exulted secretly. 

He told his mother how the Trades had beaten him, and he was out ofwork. 

Mrs. Little consoled him hypocritically. She was delighted. Then he toldher his departure had been delayed by Dr. Amboyne: that made her look alittle anxious. 

"One question, dear: now the Union has beaten you, they will not be sospiteful, will they?"

"Oh, no. That is all over. The conquerors can afford to be good-natured. Confound them!"

"Then that is all I care about. Then do not leave Hillsborough. Whyshould you? Wait here patiently. You do not know what may turn up. "

"What, mother, do YOU want to stay here now?" said Henry, opening hiseyes with astonishment. 

"Wherever my son is happy and safe from harm, there I wish to stay--ofcourse. "

Next morning Henry called on Dr. Amboyne, and found him in his study, teaching what looked a boy of sixteen, but was twenty-two, to readmonosyllables. On Little's entrance the pupil retired front his uphillwork, and glowered with vacillating eyes. The lad had a fair feminineface, with three ill things in it: a want, a wildness, and a weakness. To be sure Henry saw it at a disadvantage: for vivid intelligence wouldcome now and then across this mild, wild, vacant face, like the breezethat sweeps a farm-yard pond. 

"Good-morning, Little. This is your fellow-workman. "

"He does not look up to much, " said Henry, with all a workman'sbluntness. 

"What, you have found him out! Never mind; he can beat the town at oneor two things, and it is for these we will use him. Some call him anidiot. The expression is neat and vigorous, but not precise; so I havechristened him the Anomaly. Anomaly, this is Mr. Little; go and shakehands with him, and admire him. "

The Anomaly went directly, and gazed into Little's face for some time. 

He then made his report. "He is beautiful and black. "

"I've seen him blacker. Now leave off admiring him, and look at thesepictures while I prose. Two thousand philosophers are writing usdead with 'Labor and Capital. ' But I vary the bore. 'Life, Labor, andCapital, ' is my chant: and, whereas Life has hitherto been banished fromthe discussion, I put Life in its true place, at the head of the trio. (And Life I divide into long Life, and happy Life. ) The subject is toovast to be dealt with all at once; but I'll give you a peep of it. Therustic laborer in the South sells his labor for too little money tosupport life comfortably. That is a foul wrong. The rustic laborer inthe North has small wages, compared with a pitman, or a cutler; but hehas enough for health, and he lives longer and more happily than eitherthe pitman or the cutler; so that account is square, in my view ofthings. But now dive into the Hillsborough trades, and you will findthis just balance of Life, Labor, and Capital regarded in some, butdefied in others: a forger is paid as much or more than a dry-grinder, though forging is a hard but tolerably healthy trade, and dry-grindingmeans an early death after fifteen years of disease and misery. Thefile-cutters are even more killed and less paid. What is to be donethen? Raise the wages of the more homicidal trades! But this could onlybe done by all the Unions acting in concert. Now the rival philosophers, who direct the Unions, are all against Democritus--that's myself; theyset no value on life. And indeed the most intelligent one, Grotait, smiles blandly on Death, and would grind his scythe for him--AT THESTATEMENT PRICE--because that scythe thins the labor market, and sohelps keep up prices. "

"Then what can we do? I'm a proof one can't fight the Unions. "

"Do? Why, lay hold of the stick at the other end. Let Pseudo-Philosophyset the means above the end, and fix its shortsighted eyes on Labor andCapital, omitting Life. (What does it profit a file-cutter if he gainshis master's whole capital and loses his own life?) But you and I, Mr. Little, are true philosophers and the work we are about to enter onis--saving cutlers' lives. "

"I'd rather help take them. "

"Of course; and that is why I made the pounds guineas. "

"All right, sir, " said Henry, coloring. "I don't expect to get sixguineas a week for whistling my own tune. How are we to do the job?"

"By putting our heads together. You have, on the side of your temple, aprotuberance, which I have noticed in the crania of inventors. So I wantyou to go round the works, and observe for yourself how Life is throwngayly away, in a moment, by needless accident, and painfully gnawed awayby steel-dust, stone grit, sulphuret of lead, etc. ; and then cudgel yourbrain for remedies. "

"Sir, " said Henry, "I am afraid I shall not earn my money. My heart isnot in the job. "

"Revenge is what you would like to be at, not Philanthropy--eh?"

"Ay, doctor. " And his black eye flashed fire. 

"Well, well, that is natural. Humor my crotchet just now, and perhaps Imay humor yours a month or two hence. I think I could lay my hand on thefellow who blew you up. "

"What, sir! Ah! tell me that, and I'll do as much philanthropy as youlike--after--"

"After you have punched your fellow-creature's head. "

"But it is impossible, sir. How can you know? These acts are kept assecret as the grave. "

"And how often has the grave revealed its secrets to observant men? Dr. Donne sauntered about among graves, and saw a sexton turn up a skull. He examined it, found a nail in it, identified the skull, and had themurderess hung. She was safe from the sexton and the rest of the parish, but not from a stray observer. Well, the day you were blown up, Iobserved something, and arrived at a conclusion, by my art. "

"What, physic?"

"Oh, dear, no; my other art, my art of arts, that I don't get paid for;the art of putting myself in other people's places. I'll tell you. Whileyou lay on the ground, in Mr. Cheetham's yard, I scanned the workmen'sfaces. They were full of pity and regret, and were much alike inexpression--all but one. That one looked a man awakened from a dream. His face was wild, stupid, confused, astonished. 'Hallo!' said I, 'whyare your looks so unlike the looks of your fellows?' Instantly Iput myself in his place. I ceased to be the Democritus, or laughingphilosopher of Hillsborough, and became a low uneducated brute of aworkman. Then I asked this brute, viz, myself, why I was staring andglaring in that way, stupidly astonished, at the injured man? 'Were youconcerned in the criminal act, ye blackguard?' said I to myself. Thenext step was to put myself in the place of the criminal. I did so; andI realized that I, the criminal, had done the act to please the Unions, and expecting the sympathy of all Union workmen to be with me. Also thatI, being an ignorant brute, had never pictured to myself what sufferingI should inflict. But what was the result? I now saw the sufferer, anddid not like my own act; and I found all the sympathy of my fellows wentwith him, and that I was loathed and execrated, and should be lynchedon the spot were I to own my act. I now whipped back to Dr. Amboyne withthe theory thus obtained, and compared it with that face; the two fittedeach other, and I saw the criminal before me. "

"Good heavens! This is very deep. "

"No slop-basin was ever deeper. So leave it for the present, and goto work. Here are cards admitting you, as my commissioner, to all theprincipal works. Begin with--Stop a moment, while I put myself in yourplace. Let me see, 'Cheetham's grinders think they have turned me out ofHillsborough. That mortifies a young man of merit like me. Confound'em! I should like to show them they have not the power to drive me out. Combine how they will, I rise superior. I forge as they could not forge:that was my real crime. Well, I'll be their superior still. I'm theirinspector, and their benefactor, at higher wages than they, poor devils, will ever earn at inspecting and benefiting, or any thing else. ' Ah!your color rises. I've hit the right nail, isn't it an excellent andmost transmigratory art? Then begin with Cheetham. By-the-bye, theAnomaly has spotted a defective grindstone there. Scrutinize all hisdepartments severely; for no man values his people's lives less than mygood friend John Cheetham. Away with you both; and God speed you. "

Henry walked down the street with the Anomaly, and tried to gauge hisintellects. 

"What's your real name, my man?"

"Silly Billy. "

"Oh, then I'm afraid you can't do much to help me. "

"Oh yes, I can, because--"

"Because what?"

"Because I like you. "

"Well, that's lucky, any way. "

"Billy can catch trout when nobody else can, " said the youngster, turning his eyes proudly up to Henry's. 

"Oh, indeed! But you see that is not exactly what the doctor wants usfor. "

"Nay; he's wrapped up in trout. If it wasn't for Billy and the trout, he'd die right off. "

Henry turned a look of silent pity on the boy, and left him in hispleasing illusion. He wondered that Dr. Amboyne should have tacked thisbiped on to him. 

They entered Cheetham's works, and Henry marched grimly into the office, and showed Mr. Bayne his credentials. 

"Why, Little, you had no need of that. "

"Oh, it is as well to have no misunderstanding with your employer'smasters. I visit these works for my present employer, Dr. Amboyne, withthe consent of Mr. Cheetham, here written. "

"Very well, sir, " said Bayne, obsequiously; "and I respectfully solicitthe honor of conducting our esteemed visitor. "

A young man's ill-humor could not stand against this. "Come along, oldfellow, " said Henry. "I'm a bear, with a sore heart; but who could besuch a brute as quarrel with you? Let us begin with the chaps who droveme out--the grinders. I'm hired to philanthropize 'em--d--n 'em. "

They went among the dry-grinders first; and Henry made the followingobservations. The workman's hair and clothes were powdered with gritand dust from the grindstones. The very air was impregnated with it, and soon irritated his own lungs perceptibly. Here was early death, by bronchitis and lung diseases, reduced to a certainty. But healso learned from the men that the quantity of metal ground offwas prodigious, and entered their bodies they scarce knew how. Arazor-grinder showed him his shirt: it was a deep buff-color. "There, sir, " said he, "that was clean on yesterday. All the washerwomen inHillsbro' can't make a shirt of mine any other color but that. " Theeffect on life, health, and happiness was visible; a single glancerevealed rounded shoulders and narrow chests, caused partly by thegrinder's position on his horsing, a position very injurious to theorgans of breathing, and partly by the two devil's dusts that filled theair; cadaverous faces, the muscles of which betrayed habitual suffering, coughs short and dry, or with a frothy expectoration peculiar to thetrade. In answer to questions, many complained of a fearful tightnessacross the chest, of inability to eat or to digest. One said it took himfive minutes to get up the factory stairs, and he had to lean againstthe wall several times. 

A razor-grinder of twenty-two, with death in his face, told Henry he hadcome into that room when he was eleven. "It soon takes hold of boys, "said he. "I've got what I shall never get shut on. "

Another, who looked ill, but not dying, received Henry's sympathy with aterrible apathy. "I'm twenty-eight, " said he; "and a fork-grinder is anold cock at thirty. I must look to drop off my perch in a year or two, like the rest. "

Only one, of all these victims, seemed to trouble his head about whetherdeath and disease could be averted. This one complained that someemployers provided fans to drive the dust from the grinder, but Cheethamwould not go to the expense. 

The rest that Henry spoke to accepted their fate doggedly. They wereready to complain, but not to move a finger in self-defense. Theirfathers had been ground out young, and why not they?

Indifferent to life, health, and happiness, they could nevertheless beinflamed about sixpence a week. In other words, the money-price of theirlabor was every thing to them, the blood-price nothing. 

Henry found this out, and it gave him a glimpse into the mind ofAmboyne. 

He felt quite confused, and began to waver between hate, contempt, andpity. Was it really these poor doomed wretches who had robbed him of hislivelihood? Could men so miscalculate the size of things, as to strikebecause an inoffensive individual was making complete caring-tools allby himself, and yet not strike, nor even stipulate for fans, to carrydisease and death away from their own vitals? Why it seemed wastinghate, to bestow it on these blind idiots. 

He went on to the wet-grinders, and he found their trade much healthierthan dry-grinding: yet there were drawbacks. They suffered from the gritwhenever a new stone was hung and raced. They were also subject toa canker of the hands, and to colds, coughs, and inflammations, fromperspiration checked by cold draughts and drenched floors. These floorswere often of mud, and so the wet stagnated and chilled their feet, while their bodies were very hot. Excellent recipe for filling graves. 

Here Bayne retired to his books, and Henry proceeded to thesaw-grinders, and entered their rooms with no little interest, for theywere an envied trade. They had been for many years governed by Grotait, than whom no man in England saw clearer; though such men as Amboynesaw further. Grotait, by a system of Machiavellian policy, ingeniouslydevised and carried out, nobly, basely, craftily, forcibly, benevolently, ruthlessly, whichever way best suited the particularoccasion, had built a model Union; and still, with unremitting zeal andvigilance, contrived to keep numbers down and prices up--which is thegreat Union problem. 

The work was hard, but it was done in a position favorable to the lungs, and the men were healthy, brawny fellows; one or two were of remarkablestature. 

Up to this moment Silly Billy had fully justified that title. He hadstuck to Henry's side like a dog, but with no more interest in theinquiry than a calf, indeed, his wandering eye and vacant face hadindicated that his scanty wits were wool-gathering miles from the placethat contained his body. 

But, as soon as he entered the saw-grinders' room, his features lightedup, and his eye kindled. He now took up a commanding position in thecenter, and appeared to be listening keenly. And he had not listenedmany seconds before he cried out, "There's the bad music! there! there!"And he pointed to a grindstone that was turning and doing its workexactly like the others. "Oh, the bad music!" cried Billy. "It is out oftune. It says, 'Murder! murder! Out of tune!'"

Henry thought it his duty to inspect the grindstone so vigorouslydenounced, and, naturally enough, went in front of the grinder. ButBilly pulled him violently to the side. "You musn't stand there, " saidhe. "That is the way they fly when they break, and kill the poor father, and then the mother lets down her hair, and the boy goes crazed. "

By this time the men were attracted by the Anomaly's gestures andexclamations, and several left their work, and came round him. "What isamiss, Billy? a flawed stone, eh? which is it?"

"Here! here!" said the boy. "This is the wheel of death. Kill it, breakit, smash it, before it kills another father. "

Henry spoke to the grinder, and asked him if there was anything amisswith the stone. 

The man seemed singularly uneasy at being spoken to: however he madeanswer sullenly that he had seen better ones, and worse ones, and all. 

Henry was, however, aware, that the breaking of a large grindstone, while revolving by steam power, was a serious, and often a fatal thing;he therefore made a private mark upon the wall opposite the grindstone, and took his excited companion to Bayne. "This poor lad says he hasfound a defective grindstone. It is impossible for me to test it whileit is running. Will you let us into the works when the saw-grinders haveleft?"

Bayne hem'd and haw'd a little, but consented. He would remain behindhalf an-hour to oblige Little. 

Henry gave the Anomaly his dinner, and then inspected the file-cuttersin two great works. Here he found suicide reduced to a system. Whereofanon. 

Returning, to keep his appointment with Bayne he met a well-dressed man, who stopped Billy, and accosted him kindly. 

Henry strolled on. 

He heard their voices behind him all the way, and the man stopped atCheetham's gate, which rather surprised him. "Has Billy told you what weare at?" said he. 

"Yes. But the very look of him was enough. I know Billy and his ways, better than you do. "

"Very likely. What, are you coming in with us?"

"If you have no objection. "

The door was opened by Bayne in person. He started at the sight of thecompanion his friend had picked up, and asked him, with marked civility, if there was anything amiss. "Not that I know of, " was the reply. "Imerely thought that my experience might be of some little service to youin an inquiry of this kind. "

"Not a doubt of it, sir, " said Bayne, and led the way with his lantern, for it was past sunset. On the road, the visitor asked if anybody hadmarked the accused stone. Henry said he should know it again. "That isright, " said the other. 

On entering the room, this personage took Billy by the arm, and heldhim. "Let us have no false alarms, " he said, and blindfolded the boywith his handkerchief in a moment. 

And now an examination commenced, which the time and the place renderedcurious and striking. 

It was a long, lofty room; the back part mainly occupied by the drumsthat were turned by the driving-power. The power was on the floor above, and acted by means of huge bands that came down through holes in theceiling and turned the drums. From each of these drums came two leatherbands, each of which turned a pulley-wheel, and each pulley-wheel agrindstone, to whose axle it was attached; but now the grindstonesrested in the troughs, and the great wheel-bands hung limp, and theother bands lay along loose and serpentine. In the dim light of a singlelamp, it all looked like a gigantic polypus with its limbs extendedlazily, and its fingers holding semi-circular claws: for of thegrindstones less than half is visible. 

Billy was a timid creature, and this blindfolding business rather scaredhim: he had almost to be dragged within reach of these gaunt antennae. But each time they got him to touch a grindstone, his body changed itscharacter from shrinking and doubtful, to erect and energetic, and heapplied his test. This boy carried with him, night and day, a littlewooden hammer, like an auctioneer's, and with this he now tapped eachstone several times, searching for the one he had denounced: and, ateach experiment, he begged the others to keep away from him and leavehim alone with the subject of his experiment; which they did, and heldup the lamp and threw the light on him. 

Six heavy grindstones he tapped, and approved, three he even praised andcalled "good music. "

The seventh he struck twice, first gently, then hard and drew back fromit, screaming "Oh, the bad music! Oh, the wheel of death!" and tried totear the handkerchief from his eyes. 

"Be quiet, Billy, " said the visitor, calmly; and, putting his arm roundthe boy's neck, drew him to his side, and detached the handkerchief, allin a certain paternal way that seemed to betoken a kindly disposition. But, whilst he was doing this, he said to Henry, "Now--you marked astone in daylight; which was it?"

"No, no, I didn't mark the stone, but I wrote on the wall just opposite. Lend us the light, Bayne. By George! here is my mark right opposite thisstone. "

"Then Billy's right. Well done, Billy. " He put his hand in his pocketand gave him a new shilling. He then inquired of Bayne, with the air ofa pupil seeking advice from a master, whether this discovery ought notto be acted upon. 

"What would you suggest, sir?" asked Bayne, with equal deference. 

"Oh, if I was sure I should not be considered presumptuous in offeringmy advice, I would say, Turn the stone into the yard, and bang a newone. You have got three excellent ones outside; from Buckhurst quarry, by the look of them. "

"It shall be done, sir. "

This effective co-operation, on the part of a stranger, was naturallygratifying to Henry, and he said to him: "I should be glad to ask you aquestion. You seem to know a good deal about this trade--"

A low chuckle burst out of Bayne, but he instantly suppressed it, forfear of giving offense--

"Are serious accidents really common with these grindstones?"

"No, no, " said Bayne, "not common. Heaven forbid. "

"They are not common--in the newspapers, " replied the other. "But" (toBayne), "will you permit me to light these two gaslights for a moment?"

"Well, sir, it is contrary to our rules, --but--"

"All the more obliging of you, " said the visitor, coolly, and lightedthem, with his own match, in a twinkling. He then drew out of hiswaistcoat pocket a double eyeglass, gold-mounted, and examining theceiling with it, soon directed Henry's attention to two deep dents anda brown splash. "Every one of those marks, " said he, "is a history, andwas written by a flying grindstone. Where you see the dents the stonestruck the ceiling;" he added very gravely, "and, when it came downagain, ask yourself, did it ALWAYS fall right? These histories arewritten only on the ceiling and the walls. The floor could tell itstales too; but a crushed workman is soon swept off it, and the wheels goon again. "

"That is too true, " said Henry. "And it does a chap's heart good to heara gentleman like you--"

"I'm not a gentleman. I'm an old Saw. "

"Excuse me, sir, you look like a gentleman, and talk like one. "

"And I try to conduct myself like one: but I AM an old Saw. "

"What! and carry a gold eyeglass?"

"The Trade gave it me. I'm an old Saw. "

"Well, then, all the better, for you can tell me, and please do: haveyou ever actually known fatal accidents from this cause?"

"I have known the light grinders very much shaken by a breaking stone, and away from work a month after it. And, working among saw-grinders, who use heavy stones, and stand over them in working, I've seen--Billy, go and look at thy shilling, in the yard, and see which is brightest, itor the moon. Is he gone? I've seen three men die within a few yards ofme. One, the stone flew in two pieces; a fragment, weighing about fourhundredweight I should say, struck him on the breast, and killed him onplace; he never spoke. I've forgotten his very name. Another; the stonewent clean out of window, but it kicked the grinder backward among themachinery, and his head was crushed like an eggshell. But the worst ofall was poor Billy's father. He had been warned against his stone; buthe said he would run it out. Well, his little boy, that is Billy, hadjust brought him in his tea, and was standing beside him, when the stonewent like a pistol-shot, and snapped the horsing chains like a thread; apiece struck the wall, and did no harm, only made a hole; but the biggerhalf went clean up to the ceiling, and then fell plump down again; thegrinder he was knocked stupid like, and had fallen forward on hisbroken horsing; the grindstone fell right on him, and, ah--I saw the soncovered with the father's blood. "

He shuddered visibly, at the recollection. "Ay, " said he, "the man acorpse, and the lad an idiot. One faulty stone did that, within fouryards of me, in a moment of time. "

"Good heavens!"

"I was grinding at the next stone but one. He was taken, and I was left. It might just as well have been the other way. No saw-grinder can makesure, when he gets on his horsing, that he will come off it alive. "

The visitor left Henry to think of this while he drew Bayne aside, andspoke on another matter. 

Afterward, all three left the works together; and Henry was so pleasedwith his new ally, that he told him, at the gate, he should be glad ifhe might be allowed to make his acquaintance. 

"By all means, " said the other. "I am quite at your service. You willfind me at the 'Cutlers' Arms. '"

"Who shall I ask for?"

"George Grotait. "

"Grotait. The devil!"

"No, no. Not quite so bad as that. "

"What, " said Henry, roughly, "do you mean to say you are old Smitem?"

"That is a name FOOLS give me. "

Henry had no reply ready, and so the sturdy old secretary got the betterof him again, and went his way unruffled. 

Henry scolded Bayne for not telling him. Bayne excused himself on theground that he thought everybody knew Grotait. He added, "He knew you, and told me if he could serve you, without being unjust to the Trades, Iwas to tell him. "

Henry replied to this only by a snort of defiance, and bade himgood-night. 

The next day and the next were spent in other works, and then Henry, having no more facts to learn, fell into deep dejection again. He sawhe must either cheat Dr. Amboyne, by shamming work, or else must leaveHillsborough. 

He had the honesty to go to the doctor and say that he had masteredthe whole matter, and didn't see his way to take any more wages from afriend. 

"You mean you have mastered the broad facts. "

"I have, sir, and they are beyond belief; especially the file-cutters. They are the most numerous of all the Trades, and die like sheep. Ifyour notion about Life, Labor, and Capital is right, the Trades areupside down; for the deadliest are the worst paid. "

"And are you prepared with the remedies?"

"Not I. "

"Yet you fancy you are at the end of your work. Why, you are onlybeginning. Now comes the real brain work; invention. Now are craniologyand you upon your trial. But you are quite right about weekly salary. Invention must not be so degraded, but paid by the piece. Life, Labor, and Capital are upside down in this place, are they? Then you shall bethe man to set them on their legs. "

Henry shook his head. "Never, sir, unless I could give the mastersbowels, and the men brains. "

"Well, and why not? To invention all things are possible. You carry anote-book?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Got it in your pocket?"

"No; on my shoulders. "

"Haw! haw! haw! Then write this down in it--'THERE'S A KEY TO EVERYLOCK'"

"It's down, sir. "

"Now you must go out trout-fishing with Billy. He will take you onthe hills, where the air is pure, and favorable to invention. You willdivert your mind from all external subjects, especially Billy, who isa fool, and his trout-killing inhumane, and I a merciless glutton foreating them; and you will think, and think, and think, and forge therequired key to this lock with three wards--Life, Labor, Capital. And, when forged, the Philanthropic Society shall pay you a good price forit. Meantime, don't dream of leaving Hillsborough, or I shall give you astirrup-cup that will waft you much further than London; for it shall be'of prussic acid all composed, ' or 'juice of cursed Hebenon in a vial. 'Come, away with you. "

"Good-by, doctor. God bless you. You have found 'the key to my heart'somehow. I come to you a miserable broken-hearted dog, and you put lifeand hope into me directly. I declare talking with you it's like drinkingsunshine. I'll try all I know to please you. "

He went down the street with his old elastic tread, and muttered tohimself, "There's no lock without a key. "

Next day he went out on the hills with Billy, and saw him tickle trout, and catch them under stones, and do many strange things, and all thetime he thought of Grace Carden, and bemoaned his sad fate. He could notcommand his mind, and direct it to philanthropy. His heart would not lethim, and his personal wrongs were too recent. After a short struggle, these got so thoroughly the better, that he found himself stealing thedoctor's words for his own purposes. "No lock without a key. " Then theremust be some way of outwitting these cursed Trades, and so making moneyenough to set up as a master, and then court her, and woo her, and marryher. Heaven seemed to open on him at this prospect, and he fell intoa deep reverie. By-and-by, as he pondered, it seemed to him as if theshadow of a coming idea was projected in advance of the idea itself. He knew somehow there was a way to baffle his enemies, and resume hisbusiness, and yet he could not see the way; but still he was absolutelyconscious it existed. 

This conviction took such hold of him, that he became restless, andasked Billy to leave off and come away. The youth consented, and theyreturned to the town with a basket of trout. Henry sent Billy on to thedoctor with half of them, and took the other half to his friend Bayne. 

On what a trifle things turn. Bayne was very much pleased with hislittle attention, and asked him to take them to his lodging, and begthe landlady to cook them for dinner. "Tell her you dine with me, oldfellow. "

"Oh, hang it, I wasn't fishing for a dinner. "

"As if I didn't know that. But you must. Then I shall enjoy your companyin peace. I shall be there in an hour. "

And so he was: but in that one hour events had occurred that I shallleave Mr. Bayne to relate. 

During dinner neither of the friends wasted much time in talk; butafter dinner, Bayne produced a bottle of port, notwithstanding Henry'sremonstrances at being treated like a stranger, and it soon becameapparent that the host himself was not in the habit of drinking thatgenerous mixture every day. At the second glass he so far forgot himselfas to utter the phrase "Eternal friendship, " and, soon after, he beganto writhe in his chair, and, at last, could no longer refrain himself, but told Henry that Miss Carden had been canvassing customers. She hadjust sent in six orders for sets of carving-tools, all for friends ofher own. 

Henry colored to the temples at this unexpected proof that she he lovedthought of him too. 

"Oh, Bayne, " cried the poor young man, almost choking, "I littlethought--God bless her!"

"Let us drink her health, " said Bayne, excitedly. 

"Ah, that I will!" and this was the first glass Henry drank honestly. 

"Now, Little, I'm not doing quite right, you know; but I MUST tell you. When we lost you--you know that set of tools the Union dropped in ouryard--well, he sent them to London for yours. "

"That is just like him, " said Henry, bitterly. 

"And I'll tell you a good joke; they were in the place when you called, only not unpacked till just before I came away. Returned, sir! with asevere reprimand. 'Wonder you should send us such things as these forcarving-tools by Little. If the error is not repaired shall considerourselves at liberty to communicate direct with that workman. ' A regularsugar-plum. "

"Oh, thank you, my kind friend, for telling me. The world isn't allbitterness, after all: a poor fellow gets a sweet drop of friendship nowand then. "

"Yes, and a good drop of port now and then, though I say it thatshouldn't. Fill up. Well, my boy, Cheetham is in a fine way. I left himwalking about the office like a hyena. So now is your time. You can'tfight the Trades; but, if Cheetham will go in with you, and I know hewill, for he is sorer than you are, you can trick the Trades yet. "

"Ah! tell me how, that is all. "

"Oh, I can't tell you exactly. I'll try, though. I say, what a gloriousthing the Ruby is: it inspires us, and fires us, et cetera, and givesus ideas beyond our sphere. Did you ever see one of these new portableforges?"

"No; never heard of them. "

"No wonder; they are just out. Well, buy one of them--they were inventedhere--and carry it to some dismal cavern, where the foot of man nevertreads: make Cheetham grind your blades in another county: and who willever know? Go to him, and don't say a word, but just ask him for yourmonth's salary. Then he will open the door of business himself--safe. I'll drink his health. He's not a bad sort, Cheetham: only he'd sell hissoul for money. I hate such rubbish. Here's 'Perdition to the lot; andno heel-taps. '"

These words of fire set Henry pondering deeply; and, as he pondered, Bayne stuck to the port, and so effectually, that, at last, after aninterval of silence, he came out in a new character. He disturbed hiscompanion's reverie by informing him, in a loud, aggressive tone, thatit had long been his secret wish to encounter the Hillsborough Trades, in the persons of their secretaries, under the following conditions: atwenty-four feet ring, an experienced referee, and a kingdom lookingon. As to the order of the pugilistic events, he was not unreasonablyfastidious; must stipulate to begin with old Smitem; but, after that, they might encounter their fate in any order they chose, one downt'other come on. He let him know that this ardent desire for singlecombats, in an interminable series, arose from their treatment of hisfriend--"the best friend--the best heart--oh!--the best company--oh!oh!--the best--oh! oh! oh!" Whereupon he wept, the bellicose Bayne. And, after weeping the usual quantity, he twaddled, and, after twaddling, hebecame as pacific as ever, for he went to sleep in his chair. 

And, while he snoozed, the words he had uttered set his friend's brainboiling and bubbling. 

When the time came at which Bayne ought to return to the works, Henrycalled the landlady, and said, "Mr. Bayne is not very well. I am goingto make his excuses. I wouldn't disturb him till five, if I was you, andthen I'd give him a strong cup of tea. "

Henry then went direct to the office, and found Mr. Cheetham there. 

"Well?" said Mr. Cheetham, rather surlily. 

"I am come to ask for my month, sir. "

"So I guessed. Do you really mean to exact that?"

"Why not, sir?"

"Haven't you heard how they ground me down?"

"Yes, sir. But why did you give in? I was true to you, but you failedme. I'd have shut up the works for three months, rather than be made aslave of, and go from my word. "

"Ay, ay; that's bachelor's talk. I've got a wife and children, and theymake a man a mouse. "

"Well, sir, I forgive you: but as to my month's wages--now all I sayis--PUT YOURSELF IN MY PLACE!"

"Well?"

"You are me. You are brought from London, under an agreement, amonth's notice on either side. You work, and give satisfaction. You arethreatened, but you don't run from your employer. You are blown up, and nearly killed. You lose a fortnight, but you don't charge for it;'twasn't your employer's fault. You come back to him, and face the musicagain. You work with the sword hanging over you. But your employer givesin, and sacks you in a minute. Oughtn't you to have your month? Comenow, man to man, oughtn't you?"

"I ought, and that's the truth. I didn't look at it that way. I sawmy own side. There--no more about it--I'll draw the check--with a goodheart. "

He drew his check-book to him, with a face as if vultures were tearinghis vitals. 

When Henry found him Amboynable, and saw his piteous look, he felt alittle softened toward him, and he said, very impressively, "Wait onemoment, sir, I've got an idea. I'm not the sort that likes to be beat. Are YOU?" The men looked steadily at each other. 

Cheetham lowered his voice. "I've had hell inside me ever since. Ithought I was a man, but they made a mouse of me. If you know any way tobeat them, I'll go in with you. "

"Well, sir, there is a key to every lock. "

"That is well said, and I believe it; but one can't always find thekey. "

"I almost think I have, sir. "

"See nobody is listening. Where is Bayne? He is due. "

"Oh, he is not very well, sir; and I was to ask you for an hour'sabsence. "

"Let him have the whole afternoon. I'll not have a soul in this but ustwo. Now come close, and tell me. "

They sat opposite each other, and put their heads together over thetable, and the following dialogue passed almost in a whisper. To seethem, you would have thought they were conspiring against the law, instead of combining to hide a lawful act from the violaters of the law. 

"I can forge the blades a dozen miles from Hillsborough. "

"Not you; you will be told of. That won't do. "

"I shall not be told of; for nobody will know but you. I shall onlyforge at night; and the building is out of the world, and wedged in, outof sight, between two bleak hills. Sir, it is a deserted church. "

"What, forge blades in a church?"

"A deserted church; why not?"

"Little, you are A 1. Go on. "

"I can get the blades ground by a friend at Birmingham; and my motherand I can put them together at home. The complete articles will come toyou in parcels of a certain colored paper, invoiced in cipher outside, so that they need not be opened; you can trust the invoice, and dispatchthem to your London agent. "

"All right. "

"The steel you must supply me at the current price, and charge itagainst me. "

"Certainly. But your price per gross? For this work can't be done bytime. "

"Of course not. " And Henry named a price per gross at which Cheethamlifted up his hands. "Why, you'll take nine pounds a week at that!"

"Ay, and more, " said Henry, coolly. "But I sha'n't make it. Why, thisscheme entails no end of expenses. A house, and stables with backentrance. A swift horse, to gallop to the forge at sunset, and backby noon. A cart to take the things to the railway and back, and to theparcel delivery for you. And, besides that, I must risk my neck, ridingover broken ground at night: and working night and day shortens life. You can't reduce these things to Labor and Capital. It's Life, Labor, and Capital. "

"Hallo! There's a new cry. I tell ye what; you know too much for me. Youread the Beehive. I take you at your price. "

Then he had a misgiving. "That old Smitem's as crafty as a fox. If hefinds you stay here, with no visible employment, he will soon be down onus. "

"Ay; but in the day-time I shall appear as a carver of wood, and also aninspector of factories for Dr. Amboyne. Who will suspect me of a nighttrade, as well as two day trades?"

Cheetham slapped the table triumphantly: but, recovering his caution, hewhispered, "It's planned first-rate. "

"And now, sir, there is one difficulty you must help me in, if youplease. It is to set up the forge unobserved. "

"What, am I to find the forge?"

"There's a question, sir! Of course you are. One of these new portableforges. "

Cheetham reflected for some little time. He then said it was a ticklishthing, and he saw but one way. "The forge must come here, after closinghours, and you and I must fetch it away in the dead of night, and takeit down to the old church, and set it up. "

"Well, but, sir, we shall want assistance. "

"Nay, nay. I've got the last suit of moleskin I ever worked in laidaway. I'll air 'em, and put 'em on again; and, when I've got em on oncemore, I shall feel a man again. I'll have neither fool nor spy in it:the thing is too serious. I might bring some country fellow, that can'tread or write; but no, these portables are small things, and I'm one ofthe strongest men in Hillsborough. Best keep it to ourselves. When is itto be?"

"Say next Wednesday, two hours after midnight. "

"Then that is settled. And now I'll square the old account agreed. " Hedrew his check-book toward him again. 

But Henry slopped him. "Fair play's a jewel, " said he smiling. "Themoment you sacked me--"

"Say the Trades, not me. "

"Dr. Amboyne hired me, at six guineas a week, to inspect the works. Soyou owe me nothing; but to be true to me. "

This trait, though it was one of simple probity, astonished andgratified Mr. Cheetham. He looked on the young man with marked respect. "You are hard; but you are very square. I'll be true as steel to you, and we'll outwit our tyrants together, till I get a chance to put myfoot on them. Yes, I'll be open with you; there are plenty of ordersfrom London and the Continent, and one for six sets from swells inHillsborough. "

"Might I see that order?"

"Why not? There, run your eye over it. I want to go into thepacking-room for a minute. "

He then tossed Henry the order, as if it was nothing more than an order. 

But it was a great deal more than that to Henry. It was Grace Carden'shandwriting, the first specimen he had ever seen. 

He took the paper in his hand, and a slight perfume came from it thatwent to his heart. He devoured the delicately formed letters, and theywent to his heart too: he thrilled all over. And the words were aslike her as the perfume. She gave the order, and the addresses of herfriends, with a pretty little attempt at the businesslike; but, thisdone, she burst out, "and we all entreat you to be good to poor Mr. Little, and protect him against the wicked, cruel, abominable Unions. "

These sweet words made his heart beat violently, and brought the tearsof tenderness into his eyes. He kissed the words again and again. He putthem into his bosom, and took them out again, and gloated over them tillthey danced before his manly eyes. Then his love took another turn: hestarted up, and marched and strutted, like a young stag, about theroom, with one hand pressing the paper to his bosom. Why had he saidWednesday? It could all have been got ready on Tuesday. No matter, hewould make up for that lost day. He was on the road, once more, the roadto fortune, and to her. 

Cheetham came in, and found him walking excitedly, with the paper in hishand, and of course took the vulgar view of his emotion. 

"Ay, lad, " said he, "and they are all swells, I promise you. There'sMiss Laura Craske. That's the mayor's daughter. Lady Betty Tyrone. She'sa visitor. Miss Castleton! Her father is the county member. "

"And who is this Mr. Coventry?" asked Henry. 

"Oh, he is a landed gentleman, but spends his tin in Hillsborough; andyou can't blame him. Mr. Coventry? Why, that is Miss Carden's intended. "

"Her intended!" gasped Henry. 

"I mean her beau. The gentleman she is going to marry, they say. "

Henry Little turned cold, and a tremor ran through him; but he did notspeak a word; and, with Spartan fortitude, suppressed all outward signof emotion. He laid the paper down patiently, and went slowly away. 

Loyal to his friend even in this bitter moment, he called at Bayne'splace and left word with the landlady that Mr. Bayne was not wanted atthe works any more that day. 

But he could not bear to talk to Bayne about his plans. They had losttheir relish. He walked listlessly away, and thought it all over. 

For the first time he saw his infatuation clearly. Was ever folly likehis? If she had been a girl in humble life, would he not have askedwhether she had a sweetheart? Yet he must go and give his heart to alady without inquiry. There, where wisdom and prudence were most needed, he had speculated like an idiot. He saw it, and said to himself, "I haveacted like a boy playing at pitch-farthing, not like a man who knew thevalue of his heart. "

And so he passed a miserable time, bemoaning the treasure that was nowquite inaccessible instead of nearly, and the treasure of his own hearthe had thrown away. 

He awoke with a sense of misery and deep depression, and could not eat;and that was a novelty in his young and healthy life. He drank a cup oftea, however, and then went out, to avoid his mother's tender looks ofanxious inquiry. He meant to tell her all one day; but to-day he wasnot strong enough. He must wait till he was cured; for cured he must be, cured he would be. 

He now tried to give his mind to the task Amboyne had set him; but itwas too hard: he gave it up, with rage and despair. 

Then he made a desperate resolve, which will not surprise those whoknow the human heart. He would harden himself. He would see more of MissCarden than ever; only it should be in quite a new light. He would lookat her, and keep saying to himself all the time, "You are another man'swife. "

With this determination, he called at "Woodbine Villa. "

Miss Carden was not at home. 

"Are you sure she is not at home?"

"Not at home, " replied the man stiffly. 

"But you needn't to keep him at the door, " said a mellow female voice. 

"No, miss, " said the man, with a sudden change of manner, for he was adesperate and forlorn admirer of the last speaker. "Come in, sir. " Andhe ushered him in to Jael Dence. She was in her bonnet, and just goingout. They shook hands, and she told him Miss Carden was out walking. 

"Walking with her beau?" said Henry, affecting a jaunty air, but sickwithin. 

"That's more than I can say, " replied Jael. 

"You know nothing about it, of course, " said Henry, roughly. 

Jael looked surprised at the uncalled-for tone, and turned a mild glanceof inquiry and reproach upon him. 

The young man was ashamed of himself, and at that moment, too, heremembered he had already been rather ungrateful to her. So, to makeamends, he said, "Didn't I promise to take you to Cairnhope?"

"Ay, " said Jael; and she beamed and blushed in a moment. 

"Well, I must go there, Sunday at the latest. So I will come for you, ifyou like. Will you be ready at ten o'clock?"

"Yes. "

"I'll bring a gig, and take you like a lady. "

"Anyway you please. I'd as lieve walk as ride. "

"I prefer riding. Ten o'clock, the day after to-morrow. Good-by. "

And he hurried away, provoked, not pleased, at the manifest pleasure hehad given. The woman he loved--inaccessible! The woman he only liked--hecould spend the whole day with her. So the reasonable youth was crosswith her for that, and for being so pleased, when he was wretched. 

That feeling soon wore off, however, and, being a man of business, he wrote a line to Martha Dence, and told her he should visit her onSunday. He added, with a gleam of good-humor, "and look out, for I shallbring my lass, " intending to give them all an agreeable surprise; forJael, he knew, was an immense favorite. 

Next day he went on the hills with Billy, and, instead of thinking forthe benefit of his enemies, as agreed with Amboyne, he set himself tohate every body, especially Miss Carden's lover, and the HillsboroughUnions. The grinders and file-cutters might die like sheep. What did hecare? As much as they cared for him. Dr. Amboyne was too good for thisworld, and should keep his money to himself. He (Henry Little) wouldearn none of it, would take none of it. What invention he had should allgo to outwit the Trades, and turn that old ruffian's church into his ownsmithy. This double master-stroke, by which he was to defeat one enemy, and secretly affront another, did make him chuckle one or twice, notwith joy, but with bitterness. 

He awoke in a similar mood next morning: but there was eight o'clockservice near, and the silver-toned bell awakened better thoughts. Hedressed hurriedly, and went to church. 

He came back sadder, but rather less hot, less bitter: he had hisbreakfast, improved his toilet, went to the livery stable, and drove to"Woodbine Villa. "

Mr. And Miss Carden had just finished breakfast, when he drove up to thedoor. 

"Who is this?" said Mr. Carden. 

"What, have you forgotten Mr. Little?"

"Indeed! Why, how he is dressed. I took him for a gentleman. "

"You were not very far wrong, papa. He is a gentleman at heart. "

Jael came in equipped for the ride. She was neatly dressed, and had aplain shepherd's-plaid shawl, that suited her noble bust. She looked apicture of health and happiness. 

"If you please, miss, he is come to take me to Cairnhope. "

"Oh! is it for that? And I declare you expected him, too. "

"Yes, " said Jael, and blushed. 

"You never told me, " said Grace, with a light touch of asperity. 

"I didn't feel very sure he would keep his word. "

"Then you don't know him as well as I do. "

"I haven't the chance. He speaks a deal more to you than he do to me. "

"Well, Jael, you needn't snub me, because you are going with Mr. Little. "

As a bone, put between two friendly dogs, causes a growl, so when ahandsome young man enters on the scene, I have seen young women lose alittle of that unmitigated sweetness which marked them a moment before. 

With Grace, however, to snap and to repent generally followed ina breath. "I hope you will have a happy day, dear, as happy as youdeserve. " She then went to kiss her, but gave her cheek, instead ofher lips. "There, " said she, in rather a flurried way, "don't keep Mr. Little waiting. "

Just as they drove off, Grace came to the window, after a slightirresolution, and kissed her hand to them enchantingly; at which asudden flood of rapture rushed through Little's heart, and flushed hischeek, and fired his dark eye; Grace caught its flash full in hers, andinstinctively retired a step. They were off. 

"How bright and happy they look, " said she to her father. And no wonder. 

She sat down, and, somehow, she felt singularly dull and lonely. 

Then she dressed for church, languidly. Then she went to church. By-and-by she came back from church. 

Then she sat down, in her bonnet, and felt alone in the world, andsad; and at last she found herself quietly crying, as young ladies willsometimes, without any visible cause. 

Then she asked herself what on earth she was crying about, and herselftold her she was a little hysterical fool, and wanted a good beating. 

Then she plucked up spirit, and dried her eyes. Then she took toyawning, and said Sunday was a dull day, and life itself rather awearisome thing. 

Then a servant came to inquire if she was at home. 

"What, on Sunday? Of course not. Who is it?"

"Mr. Coventry, miss. "

"I am at home. "

CHAPTER X. 

People that met Jael Dence and Henry Little driving to Cairnhopewere struck with their faces; his so dark, hers so fair, and both sohandsome: but the woman's lit up with lively delight, the man's cloudedand sorrowful, and his brow knit with care. This very day he must takethe lock off Cairnhope old church, in spite of his Uncle Raby. He hadgot the requisite tools with him hidden in the gig; but, even shouldhe succeed, it was but the first step of a difficult and, perhaps, dangerous enterprise; and he was entering on it all with a heart nolonger buoyed by hopeful love. But for his pledge to Mr. Cheetham hecould hardly have persisted in the struggle. 

As for Jael Dence, she had no great reason to be happy either: the manshe loved loved another. Still he was kind to HER, and they belonged tothe same class; she had a chance, and gleams of hope. And, after all, the future was uncertain, but the present certain: she had him toherself for the day. She was close to him--so close, that she could feelhim--and he was driving her out, and to those who loved her: she baskedin the present delight, and looked as if she was being taken to heavenby an angel, instead of driving to Cairnhope by a gloomy young man, whomthe passers-by envied, and wondered at his good luck in having such acompanion. She talked to him, and got the short answers of an absentman. But she continued to make her little remarks occasionally, and, erethey reached Cairnhope, he found himself somehow soothed by her sex, herbeauty, and her mellow, kindly voice. 

As they drove up to the farm-house, he told her to hide her face amoment, for they didn't know who it was. 

Martha ran out. "Y'are welcome, y'are welcome; and so is your--Eh! Whyit's our Jael. 'Tis no avail to hide thy face, thou jade; I know everybit o' thee. " And Patty had her out of the gig in a moment, and therewas a cuddling match it did one good to see. 

Henry perked up for a moment and offered a suggestion. "Some of thatought to come my way, for bringing her here. "

"Oh, you'll get enough o' that fun before you die, " said Patty. "Nowcome you in; the carter's boy will take the horse. "

They went in and greeted the old farmer; and soon the bell began to ringfor church, and Nathan Dence told Martha to put on her bonnet. 

"La, father!" said she, piteously. 

"She prefers to stay at home and chat with Jael, " said Henry. The factis, he wanted to be rid of them both. 

Old Dence shook his head. He was one of those simple, grand, old rusticChristians, who have somehow picked out the marrow of religion, and leftthe devil the bone, yclept theology. "What?" said he, "my lasses! can'tye spare God a slice out of his own day?"

"Nay, it is not that, father. "

The old man continued his remonstrance. "To be sure our Jael is acordial. But she'll dine and sup with us. Take my word for 't, alllawful pleasures are sweeter on the Lord's day after a bit o' church. "

"And so they are, father; but dear heart! to think of you forgetting. Will nobody tell him? They're sworn to give me a red face, Jael andall. "

This piteous appeal set Jael's wits working. "Eh, father, it will be thefirst of her bans!"

"Is it me you are asking such a question?" cried Patty, and turned herhead away with absurd mock-modesty. 

"And so 'tis, " said Dence; "ah, that is a different thing. "

Henry thought that was no reason for Patty's staying at home; she oughtrather to go and hear the bans were cried all right. 

At this proposal both sisters lifted up their hands, and he wasremonstrated with, and lectured, and at last informed that, if a girlwas in church when her bans were cried, her children would be all borndeaf and dumb. 

"Oh, indeed!" said Little, satirically. "That's a fact in naturalhistory I was not aware of. Well, farmer, then let's you and I go byourselves. "

So Patty stayed at home, in obedience to rural superstition, and Jaelstayed to keep her company, and Farmer Dence went to church out ofpiety; and as for Henry, to tell the truth, he went to church to escapethe girls' tongues, and to be in a quiet, somniferous place, where hecould think out his plans undisturbed. 

The men were no sooner gone than the sisters began to gossip hard. 

"Eh, Jael, thou's gotten a prize. "

"Not as I know of. "

"I do adore a dark young man. "

"So do I; but this one is not mine. "

"I'll take his word before thine. Why, he calls thee his lass in hisvery letter. "

"Not he. Show me his letter. "

"What will ye give me?"

"Nay, Patty, pray show it me. "

"Well, and so I will. "

She brought her the letter. Jael read it and changed color, and wasdelighted for a moment or two; but soon her good sense and humilityprevailed. "'Twas to surprise you, like. I do know he looks higher thanme. "

"More fool he. But I don't believe it. "

"You may, " said Jael, and turned the conversation to Patty'sapproaching marriage; once launched in that direction, it flowed withoutintermission till the men returned, and dinner smoked upon the board. 

After dinner Henry watched an opportunity, and slipped out into theyard, got the tools out, put his great-coat over them, and away toCairnhope Church. He knew better than go past Raby Hall to it: he wentback toward Hillsborough, full three miles, and then turned off the roadand got on the heather. He skirted the base of a heathery mound, and atlast saw the church on an elevation before him, made for it incautiouslyover some boggy ground, and sank in up to his waist. 

He extricated himself with considerable difficulty, and cast a wofullook at his clothes. 

Then he turned to, and piled up a heap of stones to mark the dangerousspot; for he foresaw he must often travel that way in all weathers. Atlast he reached the church, removed the lock, and fastened the door withscrews. He then went back to the farm as fast as he could. But all thishad taken a long time, and the sun was sinking as he got into the yard. He was in the very act of concealing the lock in the gig, when MarthaDence came out at him, as red as a turkey-cock. 

"You thought but little of my sister, young man, to leave her all thesehours, and you come out to spend the day with her. "

"Stuff and nonsense! I came out on my own business. "

"So it seems. And it have taken you into worse company. A fine figureshe has made you. "

"Who?"

"The hussy you have been after this while. "

"That's so like you girls. You think a man has nothing to do but to runafter women. "

"What business can you have on the Sabbath-day, I'd like to know. "

"Would you? Well, I'll tell you--when I tell the bellman. "

"You are quite right, Mr. Little. Trust none but your friends. "

This was a bitter remark. Henry could not reply to it, and that movedhis bile. Patty pursued her advantage, and let him know that, when ayoung man brought a young woman out for the day, he did not leave herfor three hours at a stretch, unless he meant to affront her. She raisedher voice in saying this, and so did he in replying, "Tell you I cameout on my own business, not Jael's; but I am a good-natured fellow, considering all I endure, so I took that opportunity to bring yoursister out to see you. Could I guess you two couldn't make yourselveshappy for one afternoon without flirting? So much for sisterlyaffection! Well, next time I'll come alone--if I come at all. "

Jael came out at the raised voices, and received this last sentence fullin the face. She turned pale. 

"Oh, Patty, Patty, what have you been saying?"

"I've been speaking my mind, that is all. "

"Ay, and you've made him say the only unkind word I ever heard from hislips. "

"I'm very sorry, Jael, " said the young man, penitently. 

"Oh, then I'm to blame, because he is so ill-tempered. " And Pattybridled. 

"Partly. You should not interfere between friends. " Having deliveredthis admonition, Jael softened it by kissing her, and whispered, "Father's asking for his tea. "

Patty went in as meek as Moses. 

Then Jael turned to Henry, and laid her hand on his arm, while her grayeyes searched his face. 

"There's something amiss. You are never cross, except when you areunhappy. What is it?"

"Oh, Jael, my heart is broken. She is going to be married. "

"Who says so?"

"Mr. Cheetham told me she was engaged to a Mr. Coventry. "

"What can Mr. Cheetham know? To be sure the gentleman is a good dealwith her, and I hear he has courted her this two years; and she likeshis company, that's certain. But she is used to be admired, and she isvery hard to please. "

"What, then, you think it is not quite hopeless?"

"While there's life there's hope. "

"What had I better do?"

"Nay, you shouldn't ask me. "

"Oh, yes: you advised me so wisely about the insurance. "

"Ay, but then I saw it clear. He is purse-proud, and I knew he'd think adeal more of you if you insured your life for a vast o' money. But now Idon't see clear; and I'm loath to advise. Happen you'd hate me afterwardif it went wrong. "

"No, no, I wouldn't be so ungrateful. "

Jael shook her head, doubtfully. 

"Well, then, " said Henry, "don't advise me; but put yourself in myplace. (I'll tell you a secret I daren't trust to Patty. I have found away to beat the Trades, and make my fortune in a year or two. ) Now whatwould you do, if you were me?"

This question raised a tumult in Jael's heart. But her strong will, herloyalty, and, above all, her patience, conquered, though not withoutsigns of the struggle, a bosom that heaved somewhat higher, and alow voice that trembled a little. "If I was a young man, I wouldn'tshilly-shally, nor wait till I was rich, before I spoke. I'd have it outwith her. I'd get her alone, and tell her all. Then, if she showedany sign of liking, I'd beg her to wait a bit, and say I'd soon be agentleman for her sake. And if she cares naught for you, better know it, and leave her, than fare in heaven one hour and in hell the next, as Ihave seen thee do this while, my poor lad. "

"It is wise and good advice, and I'll take it. I've kept all my couragefor the Trades; I'd better have shown her a little. But there's onething more I want to ask you. "

This was too much. Jael's courage and patience failed her for once. "Keep it, " she cried almost wildly. "I can't bear no more. There's notone lass in a hundred would do what I have done for you: yet you wantmore. D'ye think I'm not flesh and blood, as well as her?"

And she began to cry bitterly. 

This took Henry quite by surprise, and grieved him. He consoled her, andcoaxed her, in vague terms, that did not produce any effect. So then hekissed her cheek, and dried her eyes with his own handkerchief, and thatwas not quite so ineffectual. She gave a final sob, and said, with someslight remains of passion, "There, there; never heed me. It takes a dealof patience to go through the world. " And so she left him. 

He was not sorry to be alone a minute, and think. This short dialoguewith Jael gave him some insight into female character. It made himsuspect that he had been too timid with Grace Carden, and also thatthere were two women in the game instead of one. 

When the time came to return he asked leave to borrow a horse-cloth. 

He aired it by the fire, and remarked that it had turned very cold. 

"Why, " said Patty, "you have got your top-coat. Well, you are a softone. "

"And you are a sharp one, " said Henry, ironically. 

When Jael came to the gig, Henry put the cloth over her shoulders. "'Twasn't for me, ye see, " said he: "'twas for my betters. "

"I like you for that, " said Patty. 

Then there was much kissing, and shaking of hands, and promising to comeagain, and away they drove to Hillsborough. 

On the road Henry, for the first time, was very respectful, as well askind, to Jael. She was soft and gentle, but rather silent and reserved. They parted at the door of "Woodbine Villa. "

Next day, Henry called early, and found Miss Carden alone. His heartbeat tumultuously. She was very gracious, and hoped he had spent apleasant day yesterday. 

"Pretty well. "

"Is that all? Why I quite envied you your ride, and your companion. "

"She is a very good girl. "

"She is something more than that: but one does not find her out all atonce. "

Now it was Henry's turn. But he was flustered, and thinking how heshould begin. And, while he hesitated, the lady asked him was he come tofinish the bust. 

"No. I didn't come for that. I will finish it though. " And thus he wasdiverted from his purpose, for the moment. 

He took a carving tool, and eyed his model, but soon laid down the tool, and said: "I haven't thanked you yet. And I don't know how to thankyou. "

"What for?"

"For what you sent to Mr. Cheetham. "

"Oh!" said Grace, and blushed. Then she turned it off, and said shethought if any body ought to thank her for that, it was Mr. Cheetham. 

"Ay, for the order. But the sweet words that came with it? Do you thinkI don't prize them above all the orders in the world?"

She colored high again. "What! did he show you my note?"

"He did: and that has made me his friend. Shall I tell you the effect ofthose words on me?"

"No; never mind. But I'm glad I put them in, if they did you any good. "

"Any good? They made me a new man. I was defeated by the Trades: I wasbroken-hearted: and I hated every body. Good Dr. Amboyne had set me workto do; to save the lives of my fellow-creatures. But I couldn't; I hatedthem so. The world had been too unjust to me, I could not return it goodfor evil. My heart was full of rage and bitterness. "

"That's a great pity--at your age. But really it is no wonder. Yes; youhave been cruelly used. " And the water stood in Grace's eyes. 

"Ay, but it is all over; those sweet words of yours made a man of meagain. They showed me you cared a little for me. Now I have found away to outwit the Trades. Now I'm on the road to fortune. I won't be aworkman this time next year. I'll be a master, and a thriving one. "

"Ay, do, do. Beat them, defeat them; make them scream with envy. But Iam afraid you are too sanguine. "

"No; I can do it, if you will only give me another word of hope to keepme going; and oh, I need it, if you knew all. "

Grace began to look uneasy. "Mr. Little, can you doubt that you havemy best wishes?" said she, guardedly, and much less warmly than she hadspoken just before. 

"No, I don't doubt that; but what I fear is, that, when I have gainedthe hard battle, and risen in the world, it will be too late. Too late. "

Grace turned more and more uncomfortable. 

"Oh, pray wait a few months, and see what I can do, before you--"

Will it be believed that Mr. Carden, who seldom came into this room atall, must walk in just at this moment, and interrupt them. He was toooccupied with his own affairs, to pay much attention to their faces, orperhaps he might have asked himself why the young man was so pale, andhis daughter so red. 

"I heard you were here, Little, and I want to speak to you on a matterof some importance. "

Grace took this opportunity, and made her escape from the room promptly. 

Henry, burning inwardly, had to listen politely to a matter he thoughtpitiably unimportant compared with that which had been broken off. Butthe "Gosshawk" had got him in its clutches; and was resolved to makehim a decoy duck. He was to open a new vein of Insurances. Workmen hadhitherto acted with great folly and imprudence in this respect, and hewas to cure them, by precept as well as example. 

Henry assented, to gratify a person whose good-will he might require, and to get rid of a bore. But that was not so easy; the "Gosshawk" wasfull of this new project, and had a great deal to say, before he came tothe point, and offered Henry a percentage on the yearly premium of everyworkman that should be insured in the "Gosshawk. "

This little bargain struck, Henry was left alone; and waited for thereturn of Miss Carden. 

He was simple enough to hope she would come back, and have it out withhim. 

She kept carefully out of his way, and, at last, he went sadly home. 

"Ah, " said he, "Jael gave me bad advice. I have been premature, andfrightened her. "

He would go to work his own way again. 

In forty-eight hours he moved into his new house, furnished it partly:bought a quantity of mediocre wood-carving, and improved it; putspecimens in his window, and painted his name over the door. This, athis mother's request and tearful entreaties, he painted out again, andsubstituted "Rowbotham. "

Nor was Rowbotham a mere nom de plume. It was the real name of SillyBilly. The boy had some turn for carving, but was quite uncultivated:Henry took him into his employ, fed him, and made free with his name. With all this he found time to get a key made to fit the lock ofCairnhope old Church. 

At one o'clock on Thursday morning he came to Cheetham's works, andscratched at the gate. A big workman opened it. It turned out to beCheetham himself, in a moleskin suit, and a long beard. 

The forge on wheels was all ready, also a cart containing anvil, bellows, hammers, pincers, leathern buckets, and a quantity of steellaths. They attached the forge to the tail of the cart, and went ontheir silent expedition. Cheetham drove the cart. Henry followed afaroff until they had cleared the suburbs. 

They passed "Woodbine Villa. " A single light was burning. Henry eyedit wistfully, and loitered long to look at it. Something told himthat light was in her bedroom. He could hardly tear himself away fromcontemplating it: it was his pole-star. 

There was only one great difficulty in their way; a man on a horse mightcross the moor, but a cart must go by "Raby Hall" to reach the church:and, before they got within a furlong of the Hall, a watch-dog began tobark. 

"Stop, sir, " whispered Henry. "I expected this. " He then produced somepieces of thick felt, and tied them with strings round the wheels. 

They then drove by the house as fast as they could. They did not deceivethe dogs; but no man heard them, nor saw them. 

They got to the church, opened the door, and drew the forge into thedeserted building. 

As soon as they got inside, Cheetham cast his eyes round and gave ashudder. "You must have a stout heart: no money should tempt me to workhere by myself. Lord! What's that?"

For a low musical moan was heard. 

Cheetham darted back, and got to the church-door. 

Henry's heart beast faster: but he lighted his lantern, and went upthe aisle. The place was solemn, grim, gaunt, and moldering, and echoedstrangely; but it was empty. He halloed to his companion that it was allright. Then they set the forge up near a pillar at the entrance into thechancel. When they had done this, and brought in the steel laths, thesacks of coals, etc. , Cheetham produced a flask, and took a pull ofneat brandy. This gave him courage, and he proposed to have a look roundbefore they went. Accordingly they inspected the building. 

When they came round to the chancel, suddenly there was a rattle, and atremendous rush of some huge thing that made a cold wind, and blew outthe light. 

Henry was appalled, and Cheetham dropped the lantern, and ran, yelling. And soon Henry heard his voice in the churchyard calling on him to comeout. 

He did go out, and felt very much puzzled and alarmed. However, he gotmatches from Cheetham, and went back, and lighted the lantern, quakinga little, and then he found that the great moldering picture over thealtar had rotted away from some of its supports, and one half of it wasnow drooping, like a monstrous wing, over the altar. 

He returned with the lantern, and told Cheetham what it was. Thenhe screwed on the lock, locked the church, and they went back toHillsborough in good spirits. 

But, as he lay in bed, Henry thought the matter over, and, for the firsttime in his life, felt superstitious. 

"It is very odd, " he said, "that old picture my forefathers haveworshiped under, and prayed to, no doubt, should flap out in my facelike that, the moment I offered to set up my forge among their deadbones. "

Daylight dispersed these superstitious feelings, and the battle began. 

As usual, the first step toward making money was to part with it. Hecould do nothing without a horse and a light cart. In Hillsborough theydrive magnificent horses in public cabs: Henry knew one in particular, that had often spun up the steepest hills with him; a brute ofprodigious bone and spirit. He bought this animal for a moderate price, considering his value: and then the next thing was--and indeed with someof us it precedes the purchase of the animal--to learn to ride. 

He had only two days to acquire this accomplishment in: so he took acompendious method. He went to the circus, at noon, and asked to seethe clown. A gloomy fellow was fished out of the nearest public, andinquired what he wanted. 

"The clown. "

"Well, I am the clown. "

"What! you the merry chap that makes the fun?" said Henry, incredulously. 

"I make the fun at night, " replied the man, dolefully. "If you want funout of me, come and pay your shilling, like a man. "

"But it isn't fun I'm come for. I want to learn to ride. "

"Then you are too old. Why, we begin as soon as we can stand on ahorse's back. "

"Oh, I don't mean to ride standing. I want to sit a horse, rearing, orplunging, or blundering over rough ground. "

"What will you stand?"

"A sovereign. "

The clown dived into the public-house, and told a dark seedy man, withhis black hair plastered and rolled effeminately, that he had got abloke who would stand a quid for a mount. The two came out, and theplastered Italian went to the stables: the melancholy punster conductedHenry into the arena, and stood beside him like Patience on a monument. Presently a quiet mare ran in, and stuck. 

Henry was mounted, and cantered her round, the two men instinctivelyfollowing in a smaller circle, with jaws as long as your arm. 

"This is delightful, " said Henry; "but I might as well be sitting in achair. What I want is a Prancer. "

Then they brought him another horse, just as docile as the mare. Theobedient creature, at a signal, reared suddenly, and seated Mr. Littleon the sawdust behind him. A similar result was attained several times, by various means. But Henry showed himself so tough, courageous, andpersistent, that he made great progress, and his good-humor won hispreceptors. They invited him to come tomorrow, at an earlier hour, and bring half a quid with him. He did so, and this time there was anAmerican rider rehearsing, who showed Henry what to do, and what notto do; and gave him a most humorous and instructive lesson. Indeed, hisimitations of bad riding were so truthful and funny, that even the clownwas surprised into one laugh; he who rarely smiled, unless in the way ofbusiness. 

"Well, sir, " said Henry, "you have given me a good lesson; now take ahint from me; just you go and do all this before the public; for I neversaw you do any thing half as droll. "

They all three shook their heads with one accord. Go out of the beatentrack, before an audience? Never. Such vagaries were only admissible inprivate. 

After this second day the fee was reduced to a gallon of ale. 

But, on the third day, the pupil combined theory with practice. He toldhis mother he was going to Cairnhope for the night. He then rode off toCairnhope Church. He had two large saddle-bags, containing provisions, and tools of all sorts. He got safe across the moor just before sunset. He entered the church, led the horse in with him, and put him into theSquire's pew. He then struck a light, went into the chancel, andlooked at the picture. It was as he had left it; half on the wall, halfdrooping over the altar-place. The walls were dank, and streaked hereand there with green. His footsteps echoed, and the edifice was alldark, except within the rays of his lantern; it also sang and moaned ina way to be accounted for by the action of the wind on a number of smallapertures; but, nevertheless, it was a most weird and ghostly sound. Hewas glad of the companionship of his very horse. 

He took his buckets to the mountain stream, and, in due course, filledhis trough, and left one bucket full for other uses. He then preparedand lighted his forge. As he plied the bellows, and the coals gleamedbrighter and brighter, monumental figures came out and glared at him;mutilated inscriptions wavered on the walls; portions of the dark wallsthemselves gleamed in the full light, and showed the streaks and stainsof age and weather, and the shadow of a gigantic horse's head; and, asthe illuminated part seemed on fire by contrast, so the dark part ofthe church was horribly black and mysterious, and a place out of whicha ghost or phantom might be expected, at any moment, to come forth intothat brilliant patch of light. 

Young Little, who had entered on this business in all the skepticism ofthe nineteenth century, felt awed, and began to wish he had selectedany other building in the world but this. He seemed to be desecrating atomb. 

However, he mustered up his manly resolution. He looked up at a smallaperture in the roof, and saw a star glittering above: it seemed close, and a type of that omniscient eye "from which no secrets are hid. "

He clasped his hands together, and said, "I hope God, who has seen medriven from the haunts of men, will forgive me for taking refuge here;and, if he does, I don't care who else is offended, alive or dead. " And, with this, he drew the white-hot strip of steel from the forge on to theanvil, and down came his hammer with a blow that sent the fiery steelflying all round, and rang and echoed through the desolate building, instantly there was a tremendous plunge and clatter, followed by ashaking sound, and, whiz, the church was fanned by black wings goingzigzag. 

"Ten thousand devils!" yelled Henry, and heaved the hammer high, in hisown defense. 

But it was only the horse plunging and quivering with fear, and a scoreof bats the blow of the hammer had frightened out of the rotten pulpit. 

He resumed work with a beating heart, and the building rang and echoedand re-echoed with the rapid blows; and no more interruption came. Thenineteenth century conquered. 

After four hours of earnest work, he fed his horse, ate a slice of breadand meat, drank water from the bucket, gave his horse some, and went tosleep in a pew beside that useful animal. 

Back to Hillsborough, at peep of day, with the blades he had forged. 

He now took his mother, in a great measure, into his confidence, undera strict promise to tell nobody, not even Dr. Amboyne. Mrs. Littlereceived the communication in a way that both surprised and encouragedhim. She was as willing to outwit the Unions, as she was willing toresist them openly; and Henry found her an admirable coadjutor. 

Had she known where Henry had set up his forge, she would have beenvery unhappy. But he merely told her it was in a secluded place, nearCairnhope, where he could never be detected. 

The carving business, being merely a blind, was not pushed. But Henrygave his apprentice, Billy, instruction, and the youth began to show anaptitude which contrasted remarkably with his general incapacity. 

Mrs. Little paid one or two visits to factories, to see what women coulddo in this sort of work; and, one day, she told Henry she was sure shecould sharpen and finish the blades. 

"No, mother, " said Henry. "You are a lady. I can't have you made a slaveof, and your beautiful white hands spoiled. "

"I shall be happier, helping you, dear; and I won't spoil my hands, since you care about them. "

She insisted on a trial, and soon acquired a remarkable knack: she hada fine light hand: and it is an art easily learned by an attentive andcareful woman. Indeed they can beat the men at it, if they will onlymake up their minds. 

And so the enterprise was launched, and conducted thus: in the day time, Henry showed himself in the town, and talked big about carving; and, inthe afternoon, he rode out, and did the real work of his life, over thedead bodies of his ancestors. 

His saddle-bags were always full, and, gradually, he collected somecomforts about him in the deserted church. 

He called, more than once, at "Woodbine Villa, " but Miss Carden was on avisit. 

He was in the full career of fortune again, and sanguine of success, before they met. One day, having ascertained from Jael what day shewould be at home, he called and was admitted. The room was empty, butMiss Carden soon came into it, accompanied by Jael carrying the bust. 

"Ah, Mr. Little, " said she, before he could possibly utter a word, "thisis fortunate. There is a party here on Thursday, and I want to show thebust complete, if you don't mind. "

Henry said he would finish it for her. He accordingly set to work, andwaited quietly till Jael should leave the room, to have it out withGrace. 

She, for her part, seemed to have forgotten his strange manner to herthe other day; perhaps she chose to forget it, or overlook it. ButHenry observed that Jael was not allowed to quit the room. WhateverMiss Carden wanted she fetched herself, and came back softly, and rathersuddenly, as if she had a mind to surprise Jeel and the other too. Female subtlety was clearly at work. 

"What do you advise me?" said Henry to Jael, during one of theseintervals. 

Jael never lifted her eyes from her work, and spoke under her breath, "I think I'd be patient to-day. She must give you a chance to speaksome day. Talk to me, when she comes back--about the Cairnhope folk, oranything. "

Henry followed this advice, and Grace, for the first time, found herselfa little ignored in the conversation. She was astonished at this and Idon't think she quite liked it. 

Henry was still going on with warmth and volubility about the Cairnhopefolk, their good hearts, and their superstitions, when a visitor wasannounced. 

"Mr. Coventry. "

Henry stopped in the middle of a sentence. 

Grace brightened up, and said she was at home. 

Mr. Coventry entered the room; a tall, well-made man, with an aquilinenose, and handsome face, only perhaps there were more lines in it thanhe was entitled to at his age, for he was barely thirty. He greeted MissCarden with easy grace, and took no more notice of the other two, thanif they were chairs and tables. 

Mr. Frederick Coventry had studied the great art of pleasing, andhad mastered it wonderfully; but he was not the man to waste itindiscriminately. 

He was there to please a young lady, to whom he was attached, not todiffuse his sunshine indiscriminately. 

He courted her openly, not indelicately, but with a happy air of respectand self-assurance. 

Henry sat, sick with jealousy, and tried to work and watch; but he couldonly watch: his hand trembled too much to work. 

What may be called oblique flattery is very pleasing to thosequick-witted girls, who have had a surfeit of direct compliments: and itis oblique flattery, when a man is supercilious and distant to others, as well as tender and a little obsequious to her he would please. 

Grace Carden enjoyed this oblique flattery of Mr. Coventry's all themore that it came to her just at a moment when her companions seemeddisposed to ignore her. She rewarded Mr. Coventry accordingly, and madeHenry Little's heart die within him. His agony became intolerable. Whata position was his! Set there, with a chisel in his hand, to copy thewoman he loved, while another wooed her before his face, and she smiledat his wooing!

At last his chisel fell out of his hand, and startled everybody: andthen he rose up with pale cheek, and glittering eyes, and Heaven onlyknows what he was going to do or say. But at that moment another visitorwas announced, to whom indeed the door was never closed. He entered thenext moment, and Grace ran to meet him, crying, "Oh, Mr. Raby! this IS asurprise. "

Mr. Raby kissed her, and shook hands with Mr. Coventry. He then saida kind word to Jael Dence, who got up and courtesied to him. He casta careless glance on Henry and the bust, but said nothing. He was in ahurry, and soon came to the object of his visit. 

"My dear, " said he, "the last time I saw you, you said you were sorrythat Christmas was no longer kept in Hillsborough as it used to be. "

"And so I am. "

"Well, it is kept in Cairnhope, thank Heaven, pretty much as it wasthree centuries ago. Your father will be in London, I hear; will youhonor my place and me with a visit during the Christmas holidays?"

Grace opened her eyes with astonishment. "Oh, that I will, " said she, warmly. 

"You will take your chance of being snowed up?"

"I am afraid I shall not be so fortunate, " was the charming reply. 

The Squire turned to Coventry, and said slyly, "I would ask you to joinus, sir; but it is rather a dull place for a gentleman who keeps suchgood company. "

"I never heard it spoken of as a dull place before, " said the young man;"and, if it was, you have taken a sure means to make it attractive. "

"That is true. Well, then, I have no scruple in asking you to join us;"and he gave Grace a look, as much as to say, "Am I not a considerateperson?"

"I am infinitely obliged to you, Mr. Raby, " said Coventry, seriously; "Iwill come. "

"You will stay to luncheon, godpapa?"

"Never touch it. Good-by. Well, then, Christmas-eve I shall expect youboth. Dinner at six. But come an hour or two before it, if you can: andJael, my girl, you know you must dine at the hall on Christmas-eve, andold Christmas-eve as usual, you and your sister and the old man. "

Jael courtesied, and said with homely cordiality, "We shall be there, sir, please God we are alive. "

"Bring your gun, Coventry. There's a good sprinkling of pheasants left. By-the-bye, what about that pedigree of yours; does it prove the point?"

"Completely. Dorothy Raby, Sir Richard's youngest sister, married ThomasCoventry, who was out in the forty-five. I'm having the pedigree copiedfor you, at a stationer's near. "

"I should like to see it. "

"I'll go with you, and show it to you, if you like. "

Mr. Raby was evidently pleased at this attention, and they went offtogether. 

Grace accompanied them to the door. On her return she was startled bythe condition of young Little. 

This sudden appearance of his uncle, whom he hated, had agitated him nota little, and that uncle's interference had blasted his last hope. Herecognized this lover, and had sided with him: was going to shut thepair up, in a country house, together. It was too much. He groaned, andsank back in his chair, almost fainting, and his hands began to shake inthe air, as if he was in an ague. 

Both the women darted simultaneously toward him. "Oh! he's fainting!"cried Grace. "Wine! wine! Fly. " Jael ran out to fetch some, in spite ofa despairing gesture, by which the young man tried to convey to her itwas no use. 

"Wine can do me no good, nor death no harm. Why did I ever enter thishouse?"

"Oh, Mr. Little, don't look so; don't talk so, " said Grace, turningpale, in her turn. "Are you ill? What is the matter?"

"Oh, nothing. What should ail me? I'm only a workman. What business haveI with a heart? I loved you dearly. I was working for you, fighting foryou, thinking for you, living for you. And you love that Coventry, andnever showed it. "

Jael came in with a glass of wine for him, but he waved her off with allthe grandeur of despair. 

"You tell me this to my face!" said Grace, haughtily; but her bosompanted. 

"Yes; I tell you so to your face. I love you, with all my soul. "

"How dare you? What have I ever done, to justify--Oh, if you weren't sopale, I'd give you a lesson. What could possess you? It's not my fault, thank heaven. You have insulted me, sir. No; why should I? You must beunhappy enough. There, I'll say but one word, and that, of course, is'good morning. '"

And she marched out of the room, trembling secretly in every limb. 

Henry sat down, and hid his face, and all his frame shook. 

Then Jael was all pity. She threw herself on her knees, and kissed histrembling hands with canine fidelity, and wept on his shoulder. 

He took her hand, and tried hard to thank her, but the words werechoked. 

Grace Carden opened the door, and put her head cautiously in, for shewanted to say a word to Jael without attracting Henry's attention. But, when she saw Jael and Henry in so loving an attitude, she started, andthen turned as red as fire; and presently burst out laughing. 

Jael and Henry separated directly. 

Grace laughed again, an unpleasant laugh. "I beg pardon, good people. I only wanted Mr. Little's address. I thought you could get it for me, Jael. And now I'm sure you can. Ha! ha! ha!"

And she was heard laughing after the door closed. 

Now there was a world of contempt and insolence in this laugh. Itconveyed, as plainly as words, "I was going to be so absurd as tobelieve in your love, and pity it, at all events, though I can't approveit: but now you have just set my mind at ease. Ha! ha! ha!"

"Let me go, " cried Henry, wildly. 

"Nay, tell me your address. "

"What for? To tell that cruel--laughing--"

"Nay then, for myself. "

"That's a different thing. I respect you. But her, I mean to hate, asmuch as I loved her. "

He gave Jael his address, and then got out of the house as fast as hecould. 

That evening Grace Carden surprised her father, by coming into hisstudy. "Papa, " said she, "I am come to ask a favor. You must not refuseme. But I don't know that you ever did. Dearest, I want L50. "

"Well, my child; just tell me what it is for. "

"It is for Mr. Little; for his lessons. "

"Well, but L50!"

"He has given me a good many. And to tell you the truth, papa, Idismissed him rather unceremoniously; and now I should be glad to softenthe blow a little, if I can. Do be very good and obedient, dear papa, and write what I shall dictate. PLEASE. "

"Well, spoiled child: who can resist you?"

Then Grace dictated, and Mr. Carden wrote:

"DEAR SIR, --My daughter informs me that, as yet, you have received noremuneration for the lessons you have given her. I beg your acceptanceof the inclosed check, and, at the same time, should be glad if youwould put a price on the admirable bust you have executed of her. 

"Yours obediently, "WALTER CARDEN. "

The reply to this letter surprised Mr. Carden, so that he brought it toGrace, and showed it her. 

"DEAR SIR, --The lessons are not worth speaking of. I have learned morein your house than I taught. I beg to return the check with thanks. Price of the bust, five hundred guineas. 

"Yours obediently, "HENRY LITTLE. "

Grace colored up, and her eyes sparkled. "That young man wantshumbling. "

"I don't see that, really. He is very civil, and I presume this fivehundred guineas is just a polite way of saying that he means to keep it. Wants it for an advertisement, eh?"

Grace smiled and bit her lip. "Oh, what a man of business you are!" Anda little while after the tears came into her eyes. "Madman!" said she toherself. "He won't let me be his friend. Well, I can't help it. "

After the brief excitement of this correspondence, Little soon relapsedinto dull misery. His mother was alarmed, and could restrain herself nolonger. She implored his confidence. "Make me the partner of your grief, dear, " she said; "not that you can tell me anything I have not guessedalready; but, dearest, it will do you good to open your heart; and, whoknows, I may assist you. I know my sex much better than you do. "

Henry kissed her sadly, and said it was too late now. "It is all over. She is going to marry another man. "

"Has she told you so?"

"Not in words; but I have seen it. She has burned it into my heart. "

"I wish I knew her, " said Mrs. Little, very earnestly, and almost in awhisper. 

"Some day, mother, some day; but not now. Oh, the tortures one heart cansuffer, and yet not break. "

Mrs. Little sighed. "What, not even tell me her name?"

"I can't, I can't. Oh, mother, you mean well, but you will drive memad. "

Mrs. Little forebore to press him further just then. She sat silent ather work, and he at his, till they were aroused by a fly drawing up atthe door. 

A fine young woman got out with something heavy, and holding it like achild in one arm, rapped at the door with the hand that was disengaged. 

Mrs. Little opened the door to her, and she and Jael Dence surveyed eachother with calm but searching eyes. 

"If you please, ma'am, does Mr. Little bide here?"

Mrs. Little said yes, with a smile: for Jael's face and modesty pleasedher at first sight. 

"I have something for him. "

"I'll give it to him. "

"If you please, ma'am, I was to give it him myself. "

Henry recognized the voice, opened the door, and invited her in. 

Mrs. Little followed her, full of suppressed curiosity. 

This put Jael out, but she was too patient to show it. 

"It is the bust, " said she; and put it softly down on the table with herstrong arms. 

Henry groaned. "She despises even that; she flings it at my head withouta word. "

"Nay; I have got a note for you. "

"Then why didn't you give it me at once?" cried Henry impatiently. 

She handed him the note without a word. 

It ran thus:

"Miss Carden presents her compliments to Mr. Little, and sends him hisbeautiful bust. She is grieved that he will accept no remunerationfor his lessons; and begs permission to offer her best wishes for hishappiness and prosperity. "

The gentleness of this disarmed Henry, and at the same time the firmnesscrushed him. "It is all over!" he cried, despairingly: "and yet I can'thate her. "

He ran from the room, unable to restrain his tears, and too proud andfiery to endure two spectators of his grief. 

Mrs. Little felt as mothers feel toward those who wound their young. 

"Is it the woman's likeness?" said she bitterly, and then trembled withemotion. 

"Ay. "

"May I see it?"

"Surely, ma'am. " And Jael began to undo the paper. 

But Mrs. Little stopped her. "No, not yet. I couldn't bear the sight ofa face that has brought misery upon him. I would rather look at yours. It is a very honest one. May I inquire your name?"

"Jael Dence--at your service. "

"Dence! ah, then no wonder you have a good face: a Cairnhope face. Mychild, you remind me of days gone by. Come and see me again, will you?Then I shall be more able to talk to you quietly. "

"Ay, that I will, ma'am. " And Jael colored all over with surprise, andsuch undisguised pleasure that Mrs. Little kissed her at parting. 

She had been gone a considerable time, when Henry came back; he foundhis mother seated at the table, eying his masterpiece with stern andbitter scrutiny. 

It was a picture, those two rare faces in such close opposition. Thecarved face seemed alive; but the living face seemed inspired, and toexplore the other to the bottom with merciless severity. At such workthe great female eye is almost terrible in its power. 

"It is lovely, " said she. "It seems noble. I can not find what I knowmust be there. Oh, why does God give such a face as this to a fool?"

"Not a word against her, " said Henry. "She is as wise, and as noble, andas good, as she is beautiful. She has but one fault; she loves anotherman. Put her sweet face away; hide it from me till I am an old man, andcan bring it out to show young folks why I lived and die a bachelor. Good-by, dear mother, I must saddle Black Harry, and away to my night'swork. "

The days were very short now, and Henry spent two-thirds of his timein Cairnhope Church. The joyous stimulus of his labor was gone but thehabit remained, and carried him on in a sort of leaden way. Sometimes hewondered at himself for the hardships he underwent merely to make money, since money had no longer the same charm for him; but a good workman isa patient, enduring creature, and self-indulgence, our habit, is afterall, his exception. Henry worked heavily on, with his sore, sad heart, as many a workman had done before him. Unfortunately his sleep beganto be broken a good deal. I am not quite clear whether it was theafter-clap of the explosion, or the prolonged agitation of his youngheart, but at this time, instead of the profound sleep that generallyrewards the sons of toil, he had fitful slumbers, and used to dreamstrange dreams, in that old church, so full of gaunt sights and strangesounds. And, generally speaking, however these dreams began, the figureof Grace Carden would steal in ere he awoke. His senses, being only halfasleep, colored his dreams; he heard her light footstep in the patteringrain, and her sweet voice in the musical moan of the desolate building;desolate as his heart when he awoke, and behold it was a dream. 

The day after Christmas-day began brightly, but was dark and loweringtoward afternoon. Mrs. Little advised Henry to stay at home. Buthe shook his head. "How could I get through the night? Work is mysalvation. But for my forge, I should perhaps end like--" he was goingto say "my poor father. " But he had the sense to stop. 

Unable to keep him at home, the tender mother got his saddlebags, andfilled his flask with brandy, and packed up a huge piece of Yorkshirepie, and even stuffed in a plaid shawl. And she strained her anxiouseyes after him as he rode off. 

When he got among the hills, he found it was snowing there very hard;and then, somehow, notwithstanding all the speed he made, it was nearlydark when he got on the moor, and the tracks he used to go by, over thedangerous ground, were effaced. 

He went a snail's pace, and at last dismounted, and groped his way. Hegot more than one fall in the snow, and thought himself very fortunate, when, at last, something black towered before him, and it was the oldchurch. 

The scene was truly dismal: the church was already overburdened withsnow, and still the huge flakes fell fast and silently, and the littlemountain stream, now swollen to a broad and foaming torrent, wentroaring by, behind the churchyard wall. 

Henry shivered, and made for the shelter. 

The horse, to whom this church was merely a well-ventilated stable, wentin and clattered up the aisle, saddle-bags and all. 

Henry locked the door inside, and soon blew the coals to a white heat. The bellows seemed to pant unnaturally loud, all was so deadly still. 

The windows were curtained with snow, that increased the general gloom, though some of the layers shone ghostly white and crystalline, in thelight of the forge, and of two little grates he had set in a monument. 

Two heaps of snow lay in the center aisle, just under two open placesin the roof, and, on these, flakes as big as a pennypiece kept fallingthrough the air, and glittered like diamonds as they passed through theweird light of the white coals. 

Oh! it was an appalling place, that night; youth and life seemedintruders. Henry found it more than he could bear. He took a couple ofcandles, placed them in bottles, and carried them to the western window, and there lighted them. This one window was protected by the remains ofiron-work outside, and the whole figure of one female saint in coloredglass survived. 

This expedient broke the devilish blackness, and the saint shone outglorious. 

The horrid spell thus broken in some degree, Henry plied his hammer, andmade the church ring, and the flaming metal fly. 

But by-and-by, as often happened to him now, a drowsiness overcame himat the wrong time. In vain he battled against it. It conquered him evenas he worked; and, at last, he leaned with his arms against the handleof the bellows, and dozed as he stood. 

He had a dream of that kind which we call a vision, because the dreamseems to come to the dreamer where he is. 

He dreamed he was there at his forge, and a soft voice called to him. He turned, and lo! between him and the western window stood six femalefigures, all dressed in beautiful dresses, but of another age, and ofmany colors, yet transparent; and their faces fair, but white as snow:and the ladies courtesied to him, with a certain respectful majestybeyond description: and, somehow, by their faces, and their way ofcourtesying to him, he knew they were women of his own race, andthemselves aware of the relationship. 

Then several more such figures came rustling softly through the wallfrom the churchyard, and others rose from the vaults and took theirplaces quietly, till there was an avenue of dead beauties; and theystood in an ascending line up to the west window. Some stood on theground, some on the air; that made no difference to them. 

Another moment, and then a figure more lovely than them all shone in thewindow, at the end of that vista of fair white faces. 

It was Grace Carden. She smiled on him and said, "I am going where Ican love you. There the world will not divide us. Follow me: follow;follow!"

Then she melted away; then all melted: and he awoke with a loud cry thatechoed through the edifice, now dark and cold as the grave; and a greatwhite owl went whirling, and with his wings made the only air thatstirred. 

The fire was out, and the place a grave. Yet, cold as it was, thedreamer was bathed in perspiration, so clear had been that unearthlyvision, so ghostly was now that flitting owl. 

Shuddering all over, he lighted his fire again, and plied his bellowswith fury, till the fire glowed brighter than ever; and even then heprayed aloud that he might never see the like again, even in a dream. 

He worked like mad, and his hand trembled as he struck. Ere he hadthoroughly recovered the shock, a wild cry arose outside. 

He started back, awe-struck. 

What with the time, the place, and that strange vision, the boundariesof the natural and the supernatural were a little confused in his mind. 

"Help, help!" cried a voice; and now the familiar tone of that voicemade him utter a loud cry in return. 

He searched for the key, and made his way to the door; but, just as hebegan to insert the key, the voice was at the door outside. 

"Oh, save me! A dying girl! Save me!"

The cry was now a moan, and the next moment an inert mass fell like leadagainst the door in a vain attempt to knock at it. 

The voice was Grace Carden's, and it was Grace Carden's body that fellso inert and powerless against the church-door, within a yard of HenryLittle's hand. 

CHAPTER XI. 

On the twenty-fourth of December Miss Carden and Jael Dence drove toCairnhope village, and stopped at the farm: but Nathan and his eldestdaughter had already gone up to the Hall; so they waited there but aminute or two to light the carriage lamps, and then went on up the hill. It was pitch dark when they reached the house. Inside, one of Mr. Raby'sservants was on the look-out for the sound of wheels, and the visitorshad no need to knock or ring; this was a point of honor with the masterof the mansion; when he did invite people, the house opened its arms;even as they drove up, open flew the great hall-door, and an enormousfire inside blazed in their faces, and shot its flame beyond them outinto the night. 

Grace alighted, and was about to enter the house, when Jael stopped her, and said, "Oh, miss, you will be going in left foot foremost. Pray don'tdo that: it is so unlucky. "

Grace laughed, but changed her foot, and entered a lofty hall, hungwith helmets, pikes, breast-plates, bows, cross-bows, antlers etc. , etc. Opposite her was the ancient chimneypiece and ingle-nook, with no gratebut two huge iron dogs, set five feet apart; and on them lay a birch logand root, the size of a man, with a dozen beech billets burning brisklyand crackling underneath and aside it. This genial furnace warmed thestaircase and passages, and cast a fiery glow out on the carriage, andglorified the steep helmets and breast-plates of the dead Rabys on thewall, and the sparkling eyes of the two beautiful women who now stoodopposite it in the pride of their youth, and were warmed to the heart byits crackle and glow. "Oh! what a glorious fire, this bitter night. Why, I never saw such a--"

"It is the yule log, miss. Ay, and you might go all round England, and not find its fellow, I trow. But our Squire he don't go to thechandler's shop for his yule log, but to his own woods, and fells agreat tree. "

A housemaid now came forward with bed candles, to show Miss Carden toher room. Grace was going up, as a matter of course, when Jael, busyhelping the footman with her boxes, called after her: "The stocking, miss! the stocking!"

Grace looked down at her feet in surprise. 

"There it is, hung up by the door. We must put our presents into itbefore we go upstairs. "

"Must we? what on earth am I to give?"

"Oh, any thing will do. See, I shall put in this crooked sixpence. "

Grace examined her purse, and complained that all her stupid sixpenceswere straight. 

"Never mind, miss; put in a hairpin, sooner than pass the stocking o'Christmas Eve. "

Grace had come prepared to encounter old customs. She offered hershawl-pin: and Jael, who had modestly inserted her own gift, pinnedGrace's offering on the outside of the stocking with a flush of pride. Then they went upstairs with the servant, and Grace was ushered intoa bedroom of vast size, with two huge fires burning at each end; eachfireplace was flanked with a coal-scuttle full of kennel coal in largelumps, and also with an enormous basket of beech billets. She admiredthe old-fashioned furniture, and said, "Oh, what a palace of a bedroom!This will spoil me for my little poky room. Here one can roam aboutand have great thoughts. Hillsborough, good-by! I end my days in thecountry. "

Presently her quick ears caught the rattle of swift wheels upon thehard road: she ran to the window, and peeped behind the curtain. Twobrilliant lamps were in sight, and drew nearer and nearer, like greatgoggling eyes, and soon a neat dog-cart came up to the door. Before ithad well-stopped, the hospitable door flew open, and the yule fireshone on Mr. Coventry, and his natty groom, and his dog cart with platedaxles; it illumined the silver harness, and the roan horse himself, andthe breath that poured into the keen air from his nostrils red inside. 

Mr. Coventry dropped from his shoulders, with easy grace, somethingbetween a coat and a cloak, lined throughout with foxes' skin; and, alighting, left his groom to do the rest. The fur was reddish, relievedwith occasional white; and Grace gloated over it, as it lay glowingin the fire-light. "Ah, " said she, "I should never do for a poor man'swife: I'm so fond of soft furs and things, and I don't like poky rooms. "With that she fell into a reverie, which was only interrupted by thearrival of Jael and her boxes. 

Jael helped her unpack, and dress. There was no lack of conversationbetween these two, but most of it turned upon nothings. One topic, thatmight have been interesting to the readers of this tale, was avoidedby them both. They had now come to have a high opinion of each other'spenetration, and it made them rather timid and reserved on that subject. 

Grace was dressed, and just going down, when she found she wanted a pin. She asked Jael for one. 

Jael looked aghast. "Oh, miss, I'd rather you would take one, in spiteof me. "

"Well, so I will. There!" And she whipped one away from the bosom ofJael's dress. 

"Mind, I never gave it you. "

"No. I took it by brute force. "

"I like you too well to give you a pin. "

"May I venture to inquire what would be the consequence?"

"Ill luck, you may be sure. Heart-trouble, they do say. "

"Well, I'm glad to escape that so easily. Why, this is the temple ofsuperstition, and you are the high-Priestess. How shall I ever get onat dinner, without you? I know I shall do something to shock Mr. Raby. Perhaps spill the very salt. I generally do. "

"Ay, miss, at home. But, dear heart, you won't see any of them nastylittle salt-cellars here, that some crazy creature have invented tobring down bad luck. You won't spill the salt here, no fear: but don'tye let any body help you to it neither, if he helps you to salt, hehelps you to sorrow. "

"Oh, does he? Then it is fortunate nobody ever does help anybody tosalt. Well, yours is a nice creed. Why, we are all at the mercy of otherpeople, according to you. Say I have a rival: she smiles in my face, andsays, 'My sweet friend, accept this tribute of my esteem;' and gives mea pinch of salt, before I know where I am. I wither on the spot; andshe sails off with the prize. Or, if there is no salt about, she comesbehind me with a pin, and pins it to my skirt, and that pierces myheart. Don't you see what abominable nonsense it all is?"

The argument was cut short by the ringing of a tremendous bell. 

Grace gave the last, swift, searching, all-comprehensive look of her sexinto the glass, and went down to the drawing-room. There she found Mr. Raby and Mr. Coventry, who both greeted her cordially; and the nextmoment dinner was announced. 

"Raby Hall" was a square house, with two large low wings. The left wingcontained the kitchen, pantry, scullery, bakehouse, brew-house, etc. ;and servants' bedrooms above. The right wing the stables, coach-houses, cattle-sheds, and several bedrooms. The main building of the hall, the best bedrooms, and the double staircase, leading up to themin horse-shoe form from the hall: and, behind the hall, on theground-floor, there was a morning-room, in which several of the Squire'ssmall tenants were even now preparing for supper by drinking tea, andeating cakes made in rude imitation of the infant Saviour. On the rightof the hall were the two drawing-rooms en suite, and on the left wasthe remarkable room into which the host now handed Miss Carden, and Mr. Coventry followed. This room had been, originally, the banqueting-hall. It was about twenty feet high, twenty-eight feet wide, and fifty feetlong, and ended in an enormous bay window, that opened upon the lawn. It was entirely paneled with oak, carved by old Flemish workmen, andadorned here and there with bold devices. The oak, having grown old ina pure atmosphere, and in a district where wood and roots were generallyburned in dining-rooms, had acquired a very rich and beautiful color, a pure and healthy reddish brown, with no tinge whatever of black; amighty different hue from any you can find in Wardour Street. Plasterceiling there was none, and never had been. The original joists, andbeams, and boards, were still there, only not quite so rudely fashionedas of old; for Mr. Raby's grandfather had caused them to be planed andvarnished, and gilded a little in serpentine lines. This woodwork abovegave nobility to the room, and its gilding, though worn, relieved theeye agreeably. 

The further end was used as a study, and one side of it graced withbooks, all handsomely bound: the other side, with a very beautiful organthat had an oval mirror in the midst of its gilt dummy-pipes. All thismade a cozy nook in the grand room. 

What might be called the dining-room part, though rich, was rathersomber on ordinary occasions; but this night it was decoratedgloriously. The materials were simple--wax-candles and holly; the effectwas produced by a magnificent use of these materials. There were eightycandles, of the largest size sold in shops, and twelve wax pillars, five feet high, and the size of a man's calf; of these, four onlywere lighted at present. The holly was not in sprigs, but in enormousbranches, that filled the eye with glistening green and red: and, in theembrasure of the front window stood a young holly-tree entire, eighteenfeet high, and gorgeous with five hundred branches of red berries. Thetree had been dug up, and planted here in an enormous bucket, used forthat purpose, and filled with mold. 

Close behind this tree were placed two of the wax pillars, lighted, andtheir flame shone through the leaves and berries magically. 

As Miss Carden entered, on Mr. Raby's arm, her eye swept the room withcomplacency, and settled on the holly-tree. At sight of that shepinched Mr. Raby's arm, and cried "Oh!" three times. Then, ignoring thedinner-table altogether, she pulled her host away to the tree, and stoodbefore it, with clasped hands. "Oh, how beautiful!"

Mr. Raby was gratified. "So then our forefathers were not quite suchfools as some people say. "

"They were angels, they were ducks. It is beautiful, it is divine. "

Mr. Raby looked at the glowing cheek, and deep, sparkling, sapphire eye. "Come, " said he; "after all, there's nothing here so beautiful as theyoung lady who now honors the place with her presence. "

With this he handed her ceremoniously to a place at his right hand; saida short grace, and sat down between his two guests. 

"But, Mr. Raby, " said Grace, ruefully, "I'm with my back to theholly-tree. "

"You can ask Coventry to change places. "

Mr. Coventry rose, and the change was effected. 

"Well, it is your doing, Coventry. Now she'll overlook YOU. "

"All the better for me, perhaps. I'm content: Miss Carden will look atthe holly, and I shall look at Miss Carden. "

"Faute de mieux. "

"C'est mechant. "

"And I shall fine you both a bumper of champagne, for going out of theEnglish language. "

"I shall take my punishment like a man. "

"Then take mine as well. Champagne with me means frenzy. "

But, in the midst of the easy banter and jocose airy nothings of themodern dining-room, an object attracted Grace's eye. It was a picture, with its face turned to the wall, and some large letters on the back ofthe canvas. 

This excited Grace's curiosity directly, and, whenever she could, without being observed, she peeped, and tried to read the inscription;but, what with Mr. Raby's head, and a monster candle that stood beforeit, she could not decipher it unobserved. She was inclined to ask Mr. Raby; but she was very quick, and, observing that the other portraitswere of his family, she suspected at once that the original of thispicture had offended her host, and that it would be in bad taste, andmight be offensive, to question him. Still the subject took possessionof her. 

At about eight o'clock a servant announced candles in the drawing-room. 

Upon this Mr. Raby rose, and, without giving her any option on thematter, handed her to the door with obsolete deference. 

In the drawing-room she found a harpsichord, a spinet, and a piano, alltuned expressly for her. This amused her, as she had never seen eitherof the two older instruments in her life. She played on them all three. 

Mr. Raby had the doors thrown open to hear her. 

She played some pretty little things from Mendelssohn, Spohr, andSchubert. 

The gentlemen smoked and praised. 

Then she found an old music-book, and played Hamlet's overture to Otho, and the minuet. 

The gentlemen left off praising directly, and came silently into theroom to hear the immortal melodist. But this is the rule in music; thelips praise the delicate gelatinous, the heart beats in silence at themighty melodious. 

Tea and coffee came directly afterward, and ere they were disposed of, aservant announced "The Wassailers. "

"Well, let them come in, " said Mr. Raby. 

The school-children and young people of the village trooped in, and madetheir obeisances, and sang the Christmas Carol--

 "God rest you, merry gentlemen, Let nothing you dismay. "

Then one of the party produced an image of the Virgin and Child, andanother offered comfits in a box; a third presented the wassail-cup, into which Raby immediately poured some silver, and Coventry followedhis example. Grace fumbled for her purse, and, when she had found it, began to fumble in it for her silver. 

But Raby lost all patience, and said, "There, I give this for the lady, and she'll pay me NEXT CHRISTMAS. "

The wassailers departed, and the Squire went to say a kind word to hishumbler guests. 

Miss Carden took that opportunity to ask Mr. Coventry if he had noticedthe picture with its face to the wall. He said he had. 

"Do you know who it is?"

"No idea. "

"Did you read the inscription?"

"No. But, if you are curious, I'll go back to the dining-room, and readit. "

"I'm afraid he might be angry. There is no excuse for going there now. "

"Send me for your pocket-handkerchief. "

"Please see whether I have left my pocket-handkerchief in thedining-room, Mr. Coventry, " said Grace, demurely. 

Mr. Coventry smiled, and hurried away. But he soon came back to say thatthe candles were all out, the windows open, and the servants laying thecloth for supper. 

"Oh, never mind, then, " said Grace; "when we go in to supper I'll lookmyself. "

But a considerable time elapsed before supper, and Mr. Coventry spentthis time in making love rather ardently, and Grace in defending herselfrather feebly. 

It was nearly eleven o'clock when Mr. Raby rejoined them, and they allwent in to supper. There were candles lighted on the table and a fewhere and there upon the walls; but the room was very somber: and Mr. Raby informed them this was to remind them of the moral darkness, in which the world lay before that great event they were about tocelebrate. 

He then helped each of them to a ladleful of frumety, remarking at thesame time, with a grim smile, that they were not obliged to eatit; there would be a very different supper after midnight. Then ablack-letter Bible was brought him, and he read it all to himself at aside-table. 

After an interval of silence so passed there was a gentle tap at thebay window. Mr. Raby went and threw it open, and immediately a woman'svoice, full, clear, and ringing, sang outside:

 "The first Noel the angels did say, Was to three poor shepherds, in fields as they lay, In fields where they were keeping their sheep, On a cold winter's night that was so deep. Chorus. --Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel, Born is the King of Israel. "

The chorus also was sung outside. 

During the chorus one of the doors opened, and Jael Dence came in by it;and the treble singer, who was the blacksmith's sister, came in at thewindow, and so the two women met in the room, and sang the second versein sweetest harmony. These two did not sing like invalids, as theirmore refined sisters too often do; from their broad chests, and healthylungs, and noble throats, and above all, their musical hearts, theypoured out the harmony so clear and full, that every glass in the roomrang like a harp, and a bolt of ice seemed to shoot down Grace Carden'sbackbone; and, in the chorus, gentle George's bass was like a diapason. 

 "They looked up and saw a star That shone in the East beyond them far, And unto the earth it gave a great light, And so it continued both day and night. Chorus--Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel, Born is the King of Israel. "

As the Noel proceeded, some came in at the window, others at the doors, and the lower part of the room began to fill with singers and auditors. 

The Noel ended: there was a silence, during which the organ was opened, the bellows blown, and a number of servants and others came into theroom with little lighted tapers, and stood, in a long row, awaiting asignal from the Squire. 

He took out his watch, and, finding it was close on twelve o'clock, directed the doors to be flung open, that he might hear the great clockin the hall strike the quarters. 

There was a solemn hush of expectation, that made the sensitive heart ofGrace Carden thrill with anticipation. 

The clock struck the first quarter--dead silence; the second--thethird--dead silence. 

But, at the fourth, and with the first stroke of midnight, out burst thefull organ and fifty voices, with the "Gloria in excelsis Deo;" and, asthat divine hymn surged on, the lighters ran along the walls and lightedthe eighty candles, and, for the first time, the twelve waxen pillars, so that, as the hymn concluded, the room was in a blaze, and it wasChristmas Day. 

Instantly an enormous punch-bowl was brought to the host. He put hislips to it, and said, "Friends, neighbors, I wish you all a merryChristmas. " Then there was a cheer that made the whole house echo; and, by this time, the tears were running down Grace Carden's cheeks. 

She turned aside, to hide her pious emotion, and found herself rightopposite the picture, with this inscription, large and plain, in theblaze of light--

"GONE INTO TRADE"

If, in the middle of the pious harmony that had stirred her soul, someblaring trumpet had played a polka, in another key, it could hardly havejarred more upon her devotional frame, than did this earthly line, thatglared out between two gigantic yule candles, just lighted in honor ofHim, whose mother was in trade when he was born. 

She turned from it with deep repugnance, and seated herself in silenceat the table. 

Very early in the supper she made an excuse, and retired to her room:and, as she went out, her last glance was at the mysterious picture. 

She saw it again next morning at breakfast-time; but, it must be owned, with different eyes. It was no longer contrasted with a religiousceremony, and with the sentiments of gratitude and humility proper tothat great occasion, when we commemorate His birth, whose mother hadgone into trade. The world, and society, whose child she was, seemed nowto speak with authority from the canvas, and to warn her how vainand hopeless were certain regrets, which lay secretly, I might sayclandestinely, at her heart. 

She revered her godfather, and it was no small nor irrelevant discoveryto find that he had actually turned a picture in disgrace to the wall, because its owner had descended to the level, or probably not quite tothe level, of Henry Little. 

Jael Dence came up from the farm on Christmas afternoon, and almost thefirst word Grace spoke was to ask her if she knew whose picture that wasin the dining-room. This vague description was enough for Jael. She saidshe could not tell for certain, but she had once heard her father sayit was the Squire's own sister; but, when she had pressed him on thesubject, the old man had rebuked her--told her not to meddle too muchwith other folks' business. "And, to be sure, Squire has his reasons, nodoubt, " said Jael, rather dryly. 

"The reason that is written on the back?"

"Ay: and a very poor reason too, to my mind. "

"You are not the best judge of that--excuse me for saying so. Oh dear, Iwish I could see it. "

"Don't think of such a thing, miss. You can't, however, for it'spadlocked down that way you could never loose it without being foundout. No longer agone than last Yule-time 'twas only turned, and notfastened. But they say in the kitchen, that one day last month Squirehad them all up, and said the picture had been tampered with while hewas at Hillsboro'; and he scolded, and had it strapped and padlockeddown as 'tis. "

The reader can imagine the effect of these fresh revelations. And alover was at hand, of good birth, good manners, and approved by hergodfather. That lover saw her inclining toward him, and omitted nothingto compliment and please her. To be sure, that was no uphill work, forhe loved her better than he had ever loved a woman in his life, whichwas a good deal to say, in his case. 

They spent Christmas Day very happily together. Church in the morning;then luncheon; then thick boots, a warmer shawl, and a little walkall together; for Mr. Raby took a middle course; since no positiveengagement existed, he would not allow his fair guest to go about withMr. Coventry alone, and so he compromised, even in village eyes; but, onthe other hand, by stopping now and then to give an order, or exchangea word, he gave Coventry many opportunities, and that gentleman availedhimself of them with his usual tact. 

In the evening they sat round the great fire, and Mr. Raby mulled andspiced red wine by a family receipt, in a large silver saucepan; andthey sipped the hot and generous beverage, and told stories andlegends, the custom of the house on Christmas night. Mr. Raby was aninexhaustible repertory of ghost-stories and popular legends. But Iselect one that was told by Mr. Coventry, and told with a certain easygrace that gave it no little interest. 

MR. COVENTRY'S TALE. 

"When I was quite a child, there was a very old woman living in ourvillage, that used to frighten me with her goggle eyes, and muttering. She passed for a witch, I think; and when she died--I was eight yearsold then--old people put their heads together, and told strange storiesabout her early life. It seems that this Molly Slater was away inservice at Bollington, a village half way between our place andHillsborough, and her fellow-servants used to quiz her because she hadno sweetheart. At last, she told them to wait till next Hilisboro' fair, and they should see. And just before the fair, she reminded them oftheir sneers, and said she would not come home without a sweetheart, though she took the Evil one himself. For all that, she did leave thefair alone. But, as she trudged home in the dark, a man overtook her, and made acquaintance with her. He was a pleasant fellow, and told herhis name was William Easton. Of course she could not see his face verywell, but he had a wonderfully sweet voice. After that night, he used tocourt her, and sing to her, but always in the dark. He never would facea candle, though he was challenged to more than once. One night therewas a terrible noise heard--it is described as if a number of men werethreshing out corn upon the roof--and Molly Slater was found wedged inbetween the bed and the wall, in a place where there was scarcely roomto put your hand. Several strong men tried to extricate her by force;but both the bed and the woman's body resisted so strangely that, at last, they thought it best to send for the parson. He was a greatscholar, and himself under some suspicion of knowing more than it wouldbe good for any less pious person to know. Well, the parson came, andtook a candle that was burning, and held it to the place where poorMolly was imprisoned, and moaning; and they say he turned pale, andshivered, for all his learning. I forget what he said or did next; butby-and-by there was a colloquy in a whisper between him and some personunseen, and they say that this unseen whisper was very sweet, andsomething like the chords of a harp, only low and very articulate. Theparson whispered, 'God gives a sinner time. ' The sweet voice answered, 'He can afford to; he is the stronger. ' Then the parson adjured theunseen one to wait a year and a day. But he refused, still in thegentlest voice. Then the parson said these words: 'By all we love andfear, by all you fear and hate, I adjure you to loose her, or wait tillnext Christmas Eve. '

"I suppose the Evil Spirit saw some trap in that proposal, for he issaid to have laughed most musically. He answered, 'By all I fearand hate, I'll loose her never; but, but I'll wait for her--till thecandle's burnt out;' and he chuckled most musically again. 

"'Then wait to all eternity, ' the parson roared; and blew the candle outdirectly, and held it, with his hands crossed over it. "

Grace Carden's eyes sparkled in the firelight. "Go on, " she cried, excitedly. 

"The girl was loosed easily enough after that; but she was found to bein a swoon; and not the least bruised, though ten villagers had beenpulling at her one after another. "

"And what became of her afterward?"

"She lived to be ninety-six, and died in my time. I think she had moneyleft her. But she never married; and when she was old she wandered aboutthe lanes, muttering, and frightening little boys, myself among thenumber. But now my little story follows another actor of the tale. "

"Oh, I'm so glad it is not over. "

"No. The parson took the candle away, and it was never seen again. But, somehow, it got wind that he had built it into the wall of the church;perhaps he didn't say so, but was only understood to say so. However, people used to look round the church for the place. And now comesthe most remarkable thing of all; three years ago the present rectorrepaired the floor of the chancel, intending to put down encaustictiles. Much to his surprise, the workmen found plenty of old encaustictiles; they had been interred as rubbish at some period, when antiquityand beauty were less respected than they are now, I suppose. "

Mr. Raby broke in, "The Puritans. Barbarians! beasts! It was just likethem. Well, sir--?"

"When the rector found that, he excavated more than was absolutelynecessary for his purpose, and the deeper he went the more encaustictiles. In one place they got down to the foundation, and they found anoak chest fast in the rock--a sort of channel had been cut in the rockfor this chest, or rather box (for it was only about eighteen incheslong), to lie in. The master mason was there luckily, and would not moveit till the rector had seen it. He was sent for, but half the parishwas there before him; and he tells me there were three theories firmlyestablished and proved, before he could finish his breakfast and get tothe spot. Theory of Wilder, the village grocer: 'It is treasure hiddenby them there sly old monks. ' Mr. Wilder is a miser, and is known to layup money. He is, I believe, the only man left in the North Country whocan show you a hundred spade guineas. "

Mr. Raby replied, energetically, "I respect him. Wilder forever! Whatwas the next theory?"

"The skeleton of a child. I forget who propounded this; but I believeit carried the majority. But the old sexton gave it a blow. 'Nay, nay, 'said he; 'them's the notions of strangers. I was born here, and myfather afore me. It will be Molly Slater's candle, and naught else. 'Then poor Molly's whole story came up again over the suspected box. ButI am very tedious. "

"Tedious! You are delightful, and thrilling, and pray go on. The rectorhad the box opened?"

"On the spot. "

"Well!"

"The box went to pieces, in spite of all their care. But there was nodoubt as to its contents. "

Grace exclaimed, enthusiastically, "A candle. Oh, do say a candle!"

Mr. Coventry responded, "It's awfully tempting; but I suspect thetraditional part of my story is SLIGHTLY EMBELLISHED, so the historicalpart must be accurate. What the box did really contain, to my knowledge, was a rush-wick, much thicker than they are made nowadays: and thisrush-wick was impregnated with grease, and even lightly coated with asort of brown wafer-like paste. The rector thinks it was a combinationof fine dust from the box with the original grease. He shall show ityou, if you are curious to see it. "

"Of course we are curious. Oh, Mr. Raby, what a strange story. And howwell he told it. "

"Admirably. We must drink his health. "

"I'll wish it him instead, because I require all my reason just now tounderstand his story. And I don't understand it, after all. There:you found the candle, and so it is all true. But what does the rectorthink?"

"Well, he says there is no connection whatever between the rush-wickand--"

"Don't tell her what HE says, " cried Raby, with a sudden fury that madeGrace start and open her eyes. "I know the puppy. He is what is calleda divine nowadays; but used to be called a skeptic. There never was soinfidel an age. Socinus was content to prove Jesus Christ a man; butRenan has gone and proved him a Frenchman. Nothing is so gullible as anunbeliever. The right reverend father in God, Cocker, has gnawed awaythe Old Testament: the Oxford doctors are nibbling away the New: nothingescapes but the apocrypha: yet these same skeptics believe the impudentlies, and monstrous arithmetic of geology, which babbles about amillion years, a period actually beyond the comprehension of the humanintellect; and takes up a jaw-bone, that some sly navvy has transplantedover-night from the churchyard into Lord knows what stratum, fees thenavvy, gloats over the bone, and knocks the Bible down with it. No, Mr. Coventry, your story is a good one, and well told; don't let us defileit with the comments of a skeptical credulous pedant. Fill your glass, sir. Here's to old religion, old stories, old songs, old houses, oldwine, old friends, or" (recovering himself with admirable grace) "tonew friends that are to be old ones ere we die. Come, let the strongervessel drink, and the weaker vessel sip, and all say together, afterme--

 "Well may we all be, Ill may we never see, That make good company, Beneath the roof of Raby. "

When this rude rhyme had been repeated in chorus, there was a littlesilence, and the conversation took a somewhat deeper tone. It beganthrough Grace asking Mr. Raby, with all the simplicity of youth, whether he had ever seen anything supernatural with his own eyes. "Forinstance, " said she, "this deserted church of yours, that you say theshepherd said he saw on fire--did YOU see that?"

"Not I. Indeed, the church is not in sight from here. No, Grace, Inever saw any thing supernatural: and I am sorry for it, for I laugh atpeople's notion that a dead man has any power to injure the living; howcan a cold wind come from a disembodied spirit? I am all that a ghostis, and something more; and I only wish I COULD call the dead fromtheir graves; I'd soon have a dozen gentlemen and ladies out of that oldchurch-yard into this very room. And, if they would only come, you wouldsee me converse with them as civilly and as calmly as I am doing withyou. The fact is, I have some questions to put, which only the dead cananswer--passages in the family correspondence, referring to things Ican't make out for the life of me. "

"Oh, Mr. Raby, pray don't talk in this dreadful way, for fear theyshould be angry and come. " And Grace looked fearfully round over hershoulder. 

Mr. Raby shook his head; and there was a dead silence. 

Mr. Raby broke it rather unexpectedly. "But, " said he, gravely, "if Ihave seen nothing, I've heard something. Whether it was supernatural, I can't say; but, at least, it was unaccountable and terrible. I haveheard THE GABRIEL HOUNDS. "

Mr. Coventry and Grace looked at one another, and then inquired, almostin a breath, what the Gabriel hounds were. 

"A strange thing in the air that is said, in these parts, to foretellcalamity. "

"Oh dear!" said Grace, "this is thrilling again; pray tell us. "

"Well, one night I was at Hillsborough on business, and, as I walkedby the old parish church, a great pack of beagles, in full cry, passedclose over my head. "

"Oh!"

"Yes; they startled me, as I never was startled in my life before. I hadnever heard of the Gabriel hounds then, and I was stupefied. I thinkI leaned against the wall there full five minutes, before I recoveredmyself, and went on. "

"Oh dear! But did any thing come of it?"

"You shall judge for yourself. I had left a certain house about an hourand a half: there was trouble in that house, but only of a pecuniarykind. To tell the truth, I came back with some money for them, orrather, I should say, with the promise of it. I found the wife in aswoon: and, upstairs, her husband lay dead by his own hand. "

"Oh, my poor godpapa!" cried Grace, flinging her arm tenderly round hisneck. 

"Ay, my child, and the trouble did not end there. Insult followed;ingratitude; and a family feud, which is not healed yet, and never willbe--till she and her brat come on their knees to me. "

Mr. Raby had no sooner uttered these last words with great heat, thanhe was angry with himself. "Ah!" said he, "the older a man gets, theweaker. To think of my mentioning that to you young people!" And he roseand walked about the room in considerable agitation and vexation. "Cursethe Gabriel hounds! It is the first time I have spoken of them sincethat awful night; it is the last I ever will speak of them. What theyare, God, who made them, knows. Only I pray I may never hear them again, nor any friend of mine. "

Next morning Jael Dence came up to the hall, and almost the firstquestion Grace asked her was, whether she had ever heard of the Gabrielhounds. 

Jael looked rather puzzled. Grace described them after Mr. Raby. 

"Why, that will be Gabble Retchet, " said Jael. "I wouldn't talk muchabout the like, if I was you, miss. "

But Grace persisted, and, at last, extracted from her that sounds hadrepeatedly been heard in the air at night, as of a pack of hounds infull cry, and that these hounds ran before trouble. "But, " said Jael, solemnly, "they are not hounds at all; they are the souls of unbaptizedchildren, wandering in the air till the day of judgment. "

This description, however probable, had the effect of making Gracedisbelieve the phenomenon altogether, and she showed her incredulity byhumming a little air. 

But Jael soon stopped that. "Oh, miss, pray don't do so. If you singbefore breakfast, you'll cry before supper. "

At breakfast, Mr. Coventry invited Miss Carden to go to the top ofCairnhope Peak, and look over four counties. He also told her she couldsee Bollinghope house, his own place, very well from the Peak. 

Grace assented: and, immediately after breakfast, begged Jael to be inthe way to accompany her. She divined, with feminine quickness, that Mr. Coventry would be very apt, if he pointed out Bollinghope House to herfrom the top of a mountain, to say, "Will you be its mistress?" but, possibly, she did not wish to be hurried, or it may have been only amere instinct, an irrational impulse of self-defense, with which thejudgment had nothing to do; or perhaps it was simple modesty. Any way, she engaged Jael to be of the party. 

It was talked of again at luncheon, and then Mr. Raby put in a word. "Ihave one stipulation to make, young people, and that is that you go upthe east side, and down the same way. It is all safe walking on thatside. I shall send you in my four-wheel to the foot of the hill, andGeorge will wait for you there at the 'Colley Dog' public-house, andbring you home again. "

This was, of course, accepted with thanks, and the four-wheel came roundat two o'clock. Jael was seated in front by the side of George, whodrove; Mr. Coventry and Grace, behind. He had his fur-cloak to keep hiscompanion warm on returning from the hill; but Mr. Raby, who did nothingby halves, threw in some more wraps, and gave a warm one to Jael; shewas a favorite with him, as indeed were all the Dences. 

They started gayly, and rattled off at a good pace. Before they had gotmany yards on the high-road, they passed a fir-plantation, belonging toMr. Raby, and a magpie fluttered out of this, and flew across the roadbefore them. 

Jael seized the reins, and pulled them so powerfully, she stopped thepony directly. "Oh, the foul bird!" she cried, "turn back! turn back!"

"What for?" inquired Mr. Coventry. 

"We shall meet with trouble else. One magpie! and right athwart us too. "

"What nonsense!" said Grace. 

"Nay, nay, it is not; Squire knows better. Wait just one minute, tillI speak to Squire. " She sprang from the carriage with one bound, and, holding up her dress with one hand, ran into the house like a lapwing. 

"The good, kind, silly thing!" said Grace Carden. 

Jael soon found Mr. Raby, and told him about the magpie, and begged himto come out and order them back. 

But Mr. Raby smiled, and shook his head. "That won't do. Young ladiesand gentlemen of the present day don't believe in omens. "

"But you do know better, sir. I have heard father say you were goinginto Hillsborough with him one day, and a magpie flew across, and fatherpersuaded you to turn back. "

"That is true; he was going in to buy some merino sheep, and I todeposit my rents in Carrington's bank. Next day the bank broke. And themerino sheep all died within the year. But how many thousand times doesa magpie cross us and nothing come of it? Come, run away, my good girl, and don't keep them waiting. "

Jael obeyed, with a sigh. She went back to her party--they were gone. The carriage was just disappearing round a turn in the road. She lookedat it with amazement, and even with anger. It seemed to her a brazen actof bad faith. 

"I wouldn't have believed it of her, " said she, and went back to thehouse, mortified and grieved. She did not go to Mr. Raby again; but hehappened to catch sight of her about an hour afterward, and calledto her--"How is this, Jael? Have you let them go alone, because of amagpie?" And he looked displeased. 

"Nay, sir: she gave me the slip, while I went to speak to you for hergood; and I call it a dirty trick, saving your presence. I told her I'dbe back in a moment. "

"Oh, it is not her doing, you may be sure; it is the young gentleman. Hesaw a chance to get her alone, and of course he took it. I am notvery well pleased; but I suppose she knows her own mind. It is to be amarriage, no doubt. " He smoothed it over, but was a little put out, and stalked away without another word: he had said enough to put Jael'sbosom in a flutter, and open a bright prospect to her heart; MissCarden once disposed of in marriage, what might she not hope? She nowreflected, with honest pride, that she had merited Henry's love by rareunselfishness. She had advised him loyally, had even co-operated withhim as far as any poor girl, with her feelings for him, could do; andnow Mr. Coventry was going to propose marriage to her rival, and shebelieved Miss Carden would say "yes, " though she could not in her heartbelieve that even Miss Carden did not prefer the other. "Ay, lad, " saidshe, "if I am to win thee, I'll be able to say I won thee fair. "

These sweet thoughts and hopes soon removed her temporary anger, andnothing remained to dash the hopeful joy that warmed that large andloyal heart this afternoon, except a gentle misgiving that Mr. Coventrymight make Grace a worse husband than she deserved. It was thus she readthe magpie, from three o'clock till six that afternoon. 

When a man and a woman do any thing wrong, it is amusing to hear thejudgments of other men and women thereupon. The men all blame the man, and the women all the woman. That is judgment, is it not?

But in some cases our pitch-farthing judgments must be either heads ortails; so Mr. Raby, who had cried heads, when a Mrs. Raby would havecried "woman, " was right; it WAS Mr. Coventry, and not Miss Carden, wholeaned over to George, and whispered, "A sovereign, to drive on withouther! Make some excuse. "

The cunning Yorkshire groom's eye twinkled at this, and he remainedpassive a minute or two: then, said suddenly, with well-acted fervor, "Ican't keep the pony waiting in the cold, like this;" applied thewhip, and rattled off with such decision, that Grace did not liketo interfere, especially as George was known to be one of those hardmasters, an old servant. 

So, by this little ruse, Mr. Coventry had got her all to himself for theafternoon. And now she felt sure he would propose that very day. 

She made no movement whatever either to advance or to avoid thedeclaration. 

It is five miles from Raby Hall, through Cairnhope village, to theeastern foot of Cairnhope; and while George rattles them over the hardand frosty road, I will tell the reader something about this younggentleman, who holds the winning cards. 

Mr. Frederick Coventry was a man of the world. He began life with a goodestate, and a large fund accumulated during his minority. 

He spent all the money in learning the world at home and abroad; and, when it was all gone, he opened one eye. 

But, as a man cannot see very clear with a single orb, he exchangedrouge-et-noir, etc. , for the share-market, and, in other respects, livedas fast as ever, till he had mortgaged his estate rather heavily. Thenhe began to open both eyes. 

Next, he fell in love with Grace Carden; and upon that he opened botheyes very wide, and wished very much he had his time to live over again. 

Nevertheless, he was not much to be pitied. He had still an estatewhich, with due care, could pay off its incumbrances; and he hadgathered some valuable knowledge. He knew women better than most men, and he knew whist profoundly. Above all, he had acquired what Voltairejustly calls "le grand art de plaire;" he had studied this art, as manywomen study it, and few men. Why, he even watched the countenance, andsmoothed the rising bristles of those he wished to please, or did notwish to displease. This was the easier to him that he had no strongconvictions on any great topic. It is your plaguy convictions that makemen stubborn and disagreeable. 

A character of this kind is very susceptible, either of good or evilinfluences; and his attachment to Grace Carden was turning him the rightway. 

Add to this a good figure and a distinguished air, and you have somesuperficial idea of the gentleman toward whom Grace Carden found herselfdrawn by circumstances, and not unwillingly, though not with that sacredjoy and thrill which marks a genuine passion. 

They left George and the trap at the "Colley Dog, " and ascended themountain. There were no serious difficulties on this side; but stillthere were little occasional asperities, that gave the lover anopportunity to offer his arm; and Mr. Coventry threw a gracefuldevotion even into this slight act of homage. He wooed her with perfectmoderation at first; it was not his business to alarm her at starting;he proceeded gradually; and, by the time they had reached the summit, hehad felt his way, and had every reason to hope she would accept him. 

At the summit the remarkable beauty of the view threw her into raptures, and interrupted the more interesting topic on which he was bent. 

But the man of the world showed no impatience (I don't say he feltnone); he answered all Grace's questions, and told her what all theplaces were. 

But, by-and-by, the atmosphere thickened suddenly in that quarter, andhe then told her gently he had something to show her on the other sideof the knob. 

He conducted her to a shed the shepherds had erected, and seated her ona rude bench. "You must be a little tired, " he said. 

Then he showed her, in the valley, one of those delightful old red brickhouses, with white stone facings. "That is Bollinghope. "

She looked at it with polite interest. 

"Do you like it?"

"Very much. It warms the landscape so. "

He expected a more prosaic answer; but he took her cue. "I wish it wasa great deal prettier than it is, and its owner a much better man;richer--wiser--"

"You are hard to please, Mr. Coventry. "

"Miss Carden--Grace--may I call you Grace?"

"It seems to me you have done it. "

"But I had no right. "

"Then, of course, you will never do it again. "

"I should be very unhappy if I thought that. Miss Carden, I think youknow how dear you are to me, and have been ever since I first met you. Iwish I had ten times more to offer you than I have. But I am only a poorgentleman, of good descent, but moderate means, as you see. " Comedie!(Bollinghope was the sort of house that generally goes with L5000 a yearat least. )

"I don't care about your means, Mr. Coventry, " said Grace, with a loftysmile. "It is your amiable character that I esteem. "

"You forgive me for loving you; for hoping that you will let me lead youto my poor house there, as my adored wife?"

It had come; and, although she knew it was coming, yet her face was dyedwith blushes. 

"I esteem you very much, " she faltered. "I thank you for the honor youdo me; but I--oh, pray, let me think what I am doing. " She covered herface with her hands, and her bosom panted visibly. 

Mr. Coventry loved her sincerely, and his own heart beat high atthis moment. He augured well from her agitation; but presently he sawsomething that puzzled him, and gave a man of his experience a qualm. 

A tear forced its way between her fingers; another, and another, soonfollowed. 

Coventry said to himself, "There's some other man. " And he sighedheavily; but even in this moment of true and strong feeling he was onhis guard, and said nothing. 

It was his wisest course. She was left to herself, and an amazing pieceof female logic came to Mr. Coventry's aid. She found herself crying, and got frightened at herself. That, which would have made a man pause, had just the opposite effect on her. She felt that no good could come toany body of those wild and weak regrets that made her weep. She saw shehad a weakness and a folly to cure herself of; and the cure was at hand. There was a magic in marriage; a gentleman could, somehow, MAKE a girllove him when once she had married him. Mr. Coventry should be enabledto make her love him; he should cure her of this trick of crying; itwould be the best thing for every body--for HIM, for Jael, for Mr. Coventry, and even for herself. 

She dried her eyes, and said, in a low, tremulous voice: "Have youspoken to papa of--of this?"

"No. I waited to be authorized by you. May I speak to him?"

"Yes. "

"May I tell him--?"

"Oh I can't tell you what to tell him. How dark it is getting. Pleasetake me home. " Another tear or two. 

Then, if Coventry had not loved her sincerely, and also been a man ofthe world, he would have lost his temper; and if he had lost his temper, he would have lost the lady, for she would have seized the first fairopportunity to quarrel. But no, he took her hand gently, and set himselfto comfort her. He poured out his love to her, and promised her a lifeof wedded happiness. He drew so delightful a picture of their weddedlife, and in a voice so winning, that she began to be consoled, and hertears ceased. 

"I believe you love me, " she murmured; "and I esteem you sincerely. "

Mr. Coventry drew a family ring from his pocket. It was a sapphire ofuncommon beauty. 

"This was my mother's, " said he. "Will you do me the honor to wear it, as a pledge?"

But the actual fetter startled her, I think. She started up, and said, "Oh, please take me home first! IT IS GOING TO SNOW. "

Call her slippery, if you don't like her; call her unhappy and wavering, if you do like her. 

Mr. Coventry smiled now at this attempt to put off the inevitable, andcomplied at once. 

But, before they had gone a hundred yards, the snow did really fall, andso heavily that the air was darkened. 

"We had better go back to the shed till it is over, " said Mr. Coventry. 

"Do you think so?" said Grace, doubtfully. "Well. "

And they went back. 

But the snow did not abate, and the air got darker. So, by-and-by, Gracesuggested that Mr. Coventry should run down the hill, and send George upto her with an umbrella. 

"What, and leave you alone?" said he. 

"Well, then, we had better go together. "

They started together. 

By this time the whole ground was covered about three inches deep; notenough to impede their progress; but it had the unfortunate effect ofeffacing the distinct features of the ground; and, as the declining suncould no longer struggle successfully through the atmosphere, which washalf air, half snow, they were almost in darkness, and soon lost theirway. They kept slanting unconsciously to the left, till they got overone of the forks of the mountain and into a ravine: they managed to getout of that, and continued to descend; for the great thing they had todo was to reach the valley, no matter where. 

But, after a long laborious, and even dangerous descent, they foundthemselves beginning to ascend. Another mountain or hill barred theirprogress. Then they knew they must be all wrong, and began to feelrather anxious. They wished they had stayed up on the hill. 

They consulted together, and agreed to go on for the present; it mightbe only a small rise in the ground. 

And so it proved. After a while they found themselves descending again. 

But now the path was full of pitfalls, hidden by the snow and thedarkness. 

Mr. Coventry insisted on going first. 

In this order they moved cautiously on, often stumbling. 

Suddenly Mr. Coventry disappeared with a sudden plunge, and rolled downa ravine, with a loud cry. 

Grace stood transfixed with terror. 

Then she called to him. 

There was no answer. 

She called again. 

A faint voice replied that he was not much hurt, and would try to getback to her. 

This, however, was impossible, and all he could do was to scramble alongthe bottom of the ravine. 

Grace kept on the high ground, and they called to each other everymoment. They seemed to be a long way from each other; yet they werenever sixty yards apart. At last the descent moderated, and Gracerejoined him. 

Then they kept in the hollow for some time, but at last found anotheracclivity to mount: they toiled up it, laden with snow, yet perspiringprofusely with the exertion of toiling uphill through heather cloggedwith heavy snow. 

They reached the summit, and began to descend again. But now theirhearts began to quake. Men had been lost on Cairnhope before to-day, and never found alive: and they were lost on Cairnhope; buried in thesinuosities of the mountain, and in a tremendous snowstorm. 

They wandered and staggered, sick at heart; since each step might be forthe worse. 

They wandered and staggered, miserably; and the man began to sigh, andthe woman to cry. 

At last they were so exhausted, they sat down in despair: and, in a fewminutes, they were a couple of snow-heaps. 

Mr. Coventry was the first to see all the danger they ran by thiscourse. 

"For God's sake, let us go on!" he said; "if we once get benumbed, weare lost. We MUST keep moving, till help comes to us. "

Then they staggered, and stumbled on again, till they both sank into adeep snow-drift. 

They extricated themselves, but, oh, when they felt that deep cold snowall round them, it was a foretaste of the grave. 

The sun had set, it was bitterly cold, and still the enormous flakesfell, and doubled the darkness of the night. 

They staggered and stumbled on, not now with any hope of extricatingthemselves from the fatal mountain, but merely to keep the blood alivein their veins. And, when they were exhausted, they sat down, and soonwere heaps of snow. 

While they sat thus, side by side, thinking no more of love, or anyother thing but this: should they ever see the sun rise, or sit by afireside again? suddenly they heard a sound in the air behind them, and, in a moment, what seemed a pack of hounds in full cry passed close overtheir heads. 

They uttered a loud cry. 

"We are saved!" cried Grace. "Mr. Raby is hunting us with his dogs. Thatwas the echo. "

Coventry groaned. "What scent would lie?" said he. "Those hounds were inthe air; a hundred strong. "

Neither spoke for a moment, and then it was Grace who broke the terriblesilence. 

"THE GABRIEL HOUNDS!"

"The Gabriel hounds; that run before calamity! Mr. Coventry, there'snothing to be done now, but to make our peace with God. For you are adead man, and I'm a dead woman. My poor papa! poor Mr. Little!"

She kneeled down on the snow, and prayed patiently, and prepared todeliver up her innocent soul to Him who gave it. 

Not so her companion. He writhed away from death. He groaned, he sighed, he cursed, he complained. What was Raby thinking of, to let them perish?

Presently he shouted out--"I'll not die this dog's death, I will not. I'll save myself, and come back for you. "

The girl prayed on, and never heeded him. 

But he was already on his feet, and set off to run: and he actuallydid go blundering on for a furlong and more, and fell into amountain-stream, swollen by floods, which whirled him along with it likea feather, it was not deep enough to drown him by submersion, butit rolled him over and over again, and knocked him against rocks andstones, and would infallibly have destroyed him, but that a sudden sharpturn in the current drove him, at last, against a projecting tree, whichhe clutched, and drew himself out with infinite difficulty. But when hetried to walk, his limbs gave way; and he sank fainting on the ground, and the remorseless snow soon covered his prostrate body. 

All this time, Grace Carden was kneeling on the snow, and was, literallya heap of snow. She was patient and composed now, and felt a gentlesleep stealing over. 

That sleep would have been her death. 

But, all of a sudden something heavy touched her clothes, and startledher, and two dark objects passed her. 

They were animals. 

In a moment it darted through her mind that animals are wiser thanman in some things. She got up with difficulty, for her limbs werestiffened, and followed them. 

The dark forms struggled on before. They knew the ground, and soon tookher to the edge of that very stream into which Coventry had fallen. 

They all three went within a yard of Mr. Coventry, and still theypursued their way; and Grace hoped they were making for some shelter. She now called aloud to Mr. Coventry, thinking he must be on before her. But he had not recovered his senses. 

Unfortunately, the cry startled the sheep, and they made a rush, andshe could not keep up with them: she toiled, she called, she prayed forstrength; but they left her behind, and she could see their very formsno more. Then she cried out in agony, and still, with that powerof self-excitement, which her sex possess in an eminent degree, shestruggled on and on, beyond her strength till, at last, she fell downfrom sheer exhaustion, and the snow fell fast upon her body. 

But, even as she lay, she heard a tinkling. She took it for sheep-bells, and started up once more, and once more cried to Mr. Coventry; andthis time he heard her, and shook off his deadly lethargy, and tried tohobble toward her voice. 

Meantime, Grace struggled toward the sound, and lo, a light was beforeher, a light gleaming red and dullish in the laden atmosphere. With herremnant of life and strength, she dashed at it, and found a wall in herway. She got over it somehow, and saw the light quite close, and heardthe ringing of steel on steel. 

She cried out for help, for she felt herself failing. She tottered alongthe wall of the building, searching for a door. She found the porch. Shefound the church door. But by this time she was quite spent; her sensesreeled; her cry was a moan. 

She knocked once with her hands. She tried to knock again; but thedoor flew suddenly open, and, in the vain endeavor to knock again, herhelpless body, like a pillar of snow, fell forward; but Henry Littlecaught her directly, and then she clutched him feebly, by mere instinct. 

He uttered a cry of love and alarm. She opened her filmy eyes, andstared at him. Her cold neck and white cheek rested on his bare andglowing arm. 

The moment he saw it was really Grace Carden that had fallen inanimateinto his arms, Henry Little uttered a loud cry of love and terror, and, putting his other sinewy arm under her, carried her swiftly off to hisfires, uttering little moans of fear and pity as he went; he laid herdown by the fire, and darted to the forge, and blew it to a white heat;and then darted back to her, and kissed her cold hands with pretty moansof love; and then blew up the other fires; and then back to her, andpatted her hands, and kissed them with all his soul, and drew them tohis bosom to warm them; and drew her head to his heart to warm her; andall with pretty moans of love, and fear, and pity; and the tears rainedout of his eyes at sight of her helpless condition, and the tearsfell upon her brow and her hands; and all this vitality and love soonelectrified her; she opened her eyes, and smiled faintly, but such asmile, and murmured, "It's you, " and closed her eyes again. 

Then he panted out, "Yes, it is I, --a friend. I won't hurt you--I won'ttell you how I love you any more--only live! Don't give way. You shallmarry who you like. You shall never be thwarted, nor worried, nor madelove to again; only be brave and live; don't rob the world of the onlyangel that is in it. Have mercy, and live! I'll never ask more of youthan that. Oh, how pale! I am frightened. Cursed fires, have you nowarmth IN you?" And he was at the bellows again. And the next momentback to her, imploring her, and sighing over her, and saying thewildest, sweetest, drollest things, such as only those who love can say, in moments when hearts are bursting. 

How now? Her cheek that was so white is pink--pinker--red--scarlet. Sheis blushing. 

She had closed her eyes at love's cries. Perhaps she was not altogetherunwilling to hear that divine music of the heart, so long as she was notbound to reply and remonstrate--being insensible. 

But now she speaks, faintly, but clearly, "Don't he frightened. Ipromise not to die. Pray don't cry so. " Then she put out her handto him, and turned her head away, and cried herself, gently, butplenteously. 

Henry, kneeling by her, clasped the hand she lent him with both his, anddrew it to his panting heart in ecstasy. 

Grace's cheeks were rosy red. 

They remained so a little while in silence. 

Henry's heart was too full of beatitude to speak. He drew her a littlenearer to the glowing fires, to revive her quite; but still kneeled byher, and clasped her hand to his heart. She felt it beat, and turned herblushing brow away, but made no resistance: she was too weak. 

"Halloo!" cried a new voice, that jarred with the whole scene; and Mr. Coventry hobbled in sight. He gazed in utter amazement on the picturebefore him. 

CHAPTER XII. 

Grace snatched her hand from Henry, and raised herself with a vigor thatcontrasted with her late weakness. "Oh, it is Mr. Coventry. How wickedof me to forget him for a moment. Thank Heaven you are alive. Where haveyou been?"

"I fell into the mountain stream, and it rolled me down, nearly to here. I think I must have fainted on the bank. I found myself lying coveredwith snow; it was your beloved voice that recalled me to life. "

Henry turned yellow, and rose to his feet. 

Grace observed him, and replied, "Oh, Mr. Coventry, this is toohigh-flown. Let us both return thanks to the Almighty, who has preservedus, and, in the next place, to Mr. Little: we should both be dead butfor him. " Then, before he could reply, she turned to Little, and said, beseechingly, "Mr. Coventry has been the companion of my danger. "

"Oh, I'll do the best I can for him, " said Henry, doggedly. "Draw nearerthe fire, sir. " He then put some coal on the forge, and blew up anamazing fire: he also gave the hand-bellows to Mr. Coventry, and set himto blow at the small grates in the mausoleum. He then produced a pair ofwoolen stockings. "Now, Miss Carden, " said he, "just step into that pew, if you please, and make a dressing-room of it. "

She demurred, faintly, but he insisted, and put her into the great pew, and shut her in. 

"And now, please take off your shoes and stockings, and hand them overthe pew to me. "

"Oh, Mr. Little: you are giving yourself so much trouble. "

"Nonsense. Do what you are bid. " He said this a little roughly. 

"I'll do whatever YOU bid me, " said she, meekly: and instantly took offher dripping shoes, and stockings, and handed them over the pew. Shereceived, in return, a nice warm pair of worsted stockings. 

"Put on these directly, " said he, "while I warm your shoes. "

He dashed all the wet he could out of the shoes, and, taking them to theforge, put hot cinders in: he shook the cinders up and down the shoesso quickly, they had not time to burn, but only to warm and dry them. Headvised Coventry to do the same, and said he was sorry he had only onepair of stockings to lend. And that was a lie: for he was glad he hadonly one pair to lend. When he had quite dried the shoes, he turnedround, and found Grace was peeping over the pew, and looking intolerablylovely in the firelight. He kissed the shoes furtively, and gave them toher. She shook her head in a remonstrating way, but her eyes filled. 

He turned away, and, rousing all his generous manhood, said, "Now youmust both eat something, before you go. " He produced a Yorkshire pie, and some bread, and a bottle of wine. He gave Mr. Coventry a saucepan, and set him to heat the wine; then turned up his sleeves to theshoulder, blew his bellows, and, with his pincers, took a lath of steeland placed it in the white embers. "I have only got one knife, and youwon't like to eat with that. I must forge you one apiece. "

Then Grace came out, and stood looking on, while he forged knives, likemagic, before the eyes of his astonished guests. Her feet were now aswarm as a toast, and her healthy young body could resist all the rest. She stood, with her back to the nearest pew, and her hands againstthe pew too, and looked with amazement, and dreamy complacency, at thestrange scene before her: a scene well worthy of Salvator Rosa; though, in fact, that painter never had the luck to hit on so variegated asubject. 

Three broad bands of light shot from the fires, expanding in size, butweakening in intensity. These lights, and the candles at the westend, revealed in a strange combination the middle ages, the nineteenthcentury, and eternal nature. 

Nature first. Snow gleaming on the windows. Oh, it was cozy to see itgleam and sparkle, and to think "Aha! you all but killed me; now KingFire warms both thee and me. " Snow-flakes, of enormous size, softlydescending, and each appearing a diamond brooch, as it passed throughthe channels of fiery light. 

The middle ages. Massive old arches, chipped, and stained; a molderingaltar-piece, dog's-eared (Henry had nailed it up again all but the topcorner, and in it still faintly gleamed the Virgin's golden crown). Pulpit, richly carved, but moldering: gaunt walls, streaked and stainedby time. At the west end, one saint--the last of many--lit by twocandles, and glowing ruby red across the intervening gulf of blackness:on the nearest wall an inscription, that still told, in rusty letters, how Giles de la Beche had charged his lands with six merks a yearforever, to buy bread and white watered herrings, the same to be broughtinto Cairnhope Church every Sunday in Lent, and given to two poor menand four women; and the same on Good Friday with a penny dole, and, onthat day, the clerk to toll the bell at three of the clock after noon, and read the lamentation of a sinner, and receive one groat. 

Ancient monuments, sculptures with here an arm gone, and here a head, that yet looked half-alive in the weird and partial light. 

And between one of those mediaeval sculptures, and that molderingpicture of the Virgin, stood a living horse, munching his corn; and inthe foreground was a portable forge, a mausoleum turned into fires andhot plate, and a young man, type of his century, forging table-knivesamidst the wrecks of another age. 

When Grace had taken in the whole scene with wonder, her eye wasabsorbed by this one figure, a model of manly strength, and skill, andgrace. How lightly he stepped: how easily his left arm blew the coals toa white heat, with blue flames rising from them. How deftly he drew outthe white steel. With what tremendous force his first blows fell, and scattered hot steel around. Yet all that force was regulated to ahair--he beat, he molded, he never broke. Then came the lighter blows;and not one left the steel as it found it. In less than a minute the barwas a blade, it was work incredibly unlike his method in carving; yet, at a glance, Grace saw it was also perfection, but in an opposite style. In carving, the hand of a countess; in forging, a blacksmith's arm. 

She gazed with secret wonder and admiration; and the comparison was tothe disadvantage of Mr. Coventry; for he sat shivering, and the otherseemed all power. And women adore power. 

When Little had forged the knives and forks, and two deep saucers, withmagical celerity, he plunged them into water a minute, and they hissed;he sawed off the rim of a pew, and fitted handles. 

Then he washed his face and hands, and made himself dry and glowing;let down his sleeves, and served them some Yorkshire pie, and bread, andsalt, and stirred a little sugar into the wine, and poured it into thesaucers. 

"Now eat a bit, both of you, before you go. "

Mr. Coventry responded at once to the invitation. 

But Grace said, timidly, "Yes, if you will eat with us. "

"No, no, " said he. "I've not been perished with snow, nor rolled in ariver. "

Grace hesitated still; but Coventry attacked the pie directly. It wasdelicious. "By Jove, sir, " said he, "you are the prince of blacksmiths. "

"Blacksmiths!" said Grace, coloring high. But Little only smiledsatirically. 

Grace, who was really faint with hunger, now ate a little; and then thehost made her sip some wine. 

The food and wine did Mr. Coventry so much good, that he began torecover his superiority, and expressed his obligations to Henry in atone which was natural, and not meant to be offensive; but yet, itwas so, under all the circumstances: there was an underlying tone ofcondescension, it made Grace fear he would offer Henry his purse atleaving. 

Henry himself writhed under it; but said nothing. Grace, however, sawhis ire, his mortification, and his jealousy in his face, and thatirritated her; but she did not choose to show either of the men how muchit angered her. 

She was in a most trying situation, and all the woman's wit and tactwere keenly on their guard. 

What she did was this; she did not utter one word of remonstrance, butshe addressed most of her remarks to Mr. Little; and, though the remarkswere nothing in themselves, she contrived to throw profound respect intothem. Indeed, she went beyond respect. She took the tone of an inferioraddressing a superior. 

This was nicely calculated to soothe Henry, and also to make Coventry, who was a man of tact, change his own manner. 

Nor was it altogether without that effect. But then it annoyed Coventry, and made him wish to end it. 

After a while he said, "My dear Grace, it can't be far from Raby Hall. Ithink you had better let me take you home at once. "

Grace colored high, and bit her lip. 

Henry was green with jealous anguish. 

"Are you quite recovered yourself?" said Grace, demurely, to Mr. Coventry. 

"Quite; thanks to this good fellow's hospitality. "

"Then WOULD you mind going to Raby, and sending some people for me? Ireally feel hardly equal to fresh exertion just yet. "

This proposal brought a flush of pleasure to Henry's cheek, andmortified Mr. Coventry cruelly in his turn. 

"What, go and leave you here? Surely you can not be serious. "

"Oh, I don't wish you to leave me. Only you seemed in a hurry. "

Henry was miserable again. 

Coventry did not let well alone, he alluded delicately but tenderly towhat had passed between them, and said he could not bear her out of hissight until she was safe at Raby. The words and the tone were those of alover, and Henry was in agony: thereupon Grace laughed it off, "Not bearme out of your sight!" said she. "Why, you ran away from me, and tumbledinto the river. Ha! ha! ha! And" (very seriously) "we should both be inanother world but for Mr. Little. "

"You are very cruel, " said Mr. Coventry. "When you gave up in despair, Iran for help. You punish me for failure; punish me savagely. "

"Yes, I was ungenerous, " said Grace. "Forgive me. " But she said itrather coolly, and not with a very penitent air. 

She added an explanation more calculated to please Henry than him. "Yourgallantry is always graceful; and it is charming, in a drawing-room; butin this wild place, and just after escaping the grave, let us talk likesensible people. If you and I set out for Raby Hall alone, we shall loseour way again, and perish, to a certainty. But I think Mr. Little mustknow the way to Raby Hall. "

"Oh, then, " said Coventry, catching at her idea, "perhaps Mr. Littlewould add to the great obligation, under which he has laid us both, bygoing to Raby Hall and sending assistance hither. "

"I can't do that, " said Henry, roughly. 

"And that is not at all what I was going to propose, " said Grace, quietly. "But perhaps you would be so good as to go with us to RabyHall? Then I should feel safe; and I want Mr. Raby to thank you, for Ifeel how cold and unmeaning all I have said to you is; I seem to have nowords. " Her voice faltered, and her sweet eyes filled. 

"Miss Carden, " said the young man, gravely, "I can't do that. Mr. Rabyis no friend of mine, and he is a bigoted old man, who would turn me outof this place if he knew. Come, now, when you talk about gratitude to mefor not letting you be starved to death, you make me blush. Is there aman in the world that wouldn't? But this I do say; it would be ratherhard if you two were to go away, and cut my throat in return; and, ifyou open your mouths ever so little, either of you, you WILL cut mythroat. Why, ask yourselves, have I set up my workshop in such a placeas this--by choice? It takes a stout heart to work here, I can tell you, and a stout heart to sleep here over dead bones. "

"I see it all. The Trades Unions!"

"That is it. So, now, there are only two ways. You must promise me neverto breathe a word to any living soul, or I must give up my livelihood, and leave the country. "

"What can not you trust me? Oh, Mr. Little!"

"No, no; it's this gentleman. He is a stranger to me, you know; and, yousee, my life may be at stake, as well as my means. "

"Mr. Coventry is a gentleman, and a man of honor. He is incapable ofbetraying you. "

"I should hope so, " said Coventry. "I pledge you the word of a gentlemanI will never let any human creature know that you are working here. "

"Give me your hand on that, if you please. "

Coventry gave him his hand with warmth and evident sincerity. 

Young Little was reassured. "Come, " said he, "I feel I can trustyou both. And, sir, Miss Carden will tell you what happened to me inCheetham's works; and then you will understand what I risk upon yourhonor. "

"I accept the responsibility; and I thank you for giving me thisopportunity to show you how deeply I feel indebted to you. "

"That is square enough. Well, now my mind is at ease about that, I'lltell you what I'll do; I won't take you quite to Raby Hall; but I'lltake you so near to it, you can't miss it; and then I'll go back to mywork. "

He sighed deeply at the lonely prospect, and Grace heard him. 

"Come, " said he, almost violently, and led the way out of church. But hestayed behind to lock the door, and then joined them. 

They all three went together, Grace in the middle. 

There was now but little snow falling, and the air was not so thick; butit was most laborious walking, and soon Mr. Coventry, who was stiff andin pain, fell a little behind, and groaned as he hobbled on. 

Grace whispered to Henry: "Be generous. He has hurt himself so. "

This made Henry groan in return. But he said nothing. He just turnedback to Coventry--"You can't get on without help, sir; lean on me. "

The act was friendly, the tone surly. Coventry accepted the act, andnoted the tone in his memory. 

When Grace had done this, she saw Henry misunderstood it, and she wassorry, and waited an opportunity to restore the balance; but, ere onecame, a bell was heard in the air; the great alarm-bell of Raby Hall. 

Then faint voices were heard of people calling to each other here andthere in the distance. 

"What is it?" asked Grace. 

Henry replied, "What should it be? The whole country is out after you. Mr Raby has sense enough for that. "

"Oh, I hope they will not see the light in the church, and find youout. "

"You are very good to think of that. Ah! There's a bonfire: and herecomes a torch. I must go and quench my fires. Good-by, Miss Carden. Good-evening, sir. "

With this, he retired: but, as he went, he sighed. 

Grace said to Coventry, "Oh, I forgot to ask him a question;" and ranafter him. "Mr. Little!"

He heard and came back to her. 

She was violently agitated. "I can't leave you so, " she said. "Give meyour hand. "

He gave it to her. 

"I mortified you; and you have saved me. " She took his hand, and, holding it gently in both her little palms, sobbed out, --"Oh, think ofsomething I can do, to show my gratitude, my esteem. Pray, pray, pray. "

"Wait two years for me. "

"Oh, not that. I don't mean that. "

"That or nothing. In two years, I'll be as good a gentleman as HE is. I'm not risking my life in that church, for nothing. If you have onegrain of pity or esteem for me, wait two years. "

"Incurable!" she murmured: but he was gone. 

Coventry heard the prayer. That was loud and earnest enough. Her replyhe could not bear. 

She rejoined him, and the torch came rapidly forward. 

It was carried by a lass, with her gown pinned nearly to her knees, anddisplaying grand and powerful limbs; she was crying, like the tenderestwoman, and striding through the snow, like a young giant. 

When the snow first came down, Mr. Raby merely ordered large fires tobe lighted and fed in his guests' bedrooms; he feared nothing worse forthem than a good wetting. 

When dinner-time came, without them, he began to be anxious, and sent aservant to the little public-house, to inquire if they were there. 

The servant had to walk through the snow, and had been gone about anhour, and Mr. Raby was walking nervously up and down the hall, when JaelDence burst in at the front door, as white as a sheet, and gasped out inhis face: "THE GABRIEL HOUNDS!!"

Raby ran out directly, and sure enough, that strange pack were passingin full cry over the very house. It was appalling. He was dumb with awefor a moment. Then he darted into the kitchen and ordered them toring the great alarm-bell incessantly; then into the yard, and sentmessengers to the village, and to all his tenants, and in about anhour there were fifty torches, and as many sheep-bells, directed uponCairnhope hill; and, as men and boys came in from every quarter, to knowwhy Raby's great alarm-bell was ringing, they were armed with torchesand sent up Cairnhope. 

At last the servant returned from "The Colley Dog, " with the alarmingtidings that Miss Carden and Mr. Coventry had gone up the hill, andnever returned. This, however, was hardly news. The Gabriel houndsalways ran before calamity. 

At about eleven o'clock, there being still no news of them, Jael Dencecame to Mr. Raby wringing her hands. "Why do all the men go east forthem?"

"Because they are on the east side. "

"How can ye tell that? They have lost their way. "

"I am afraid so, " groaned Raby. 

"Then why do you send all the men as if they hadn't lost their way? Eastside of Cairnhope! why that is where they ought to be, but it is notwhere they are, man. "

"You are a good girl, and I'm a fool, " cried Raby. "Whoever comes inafter this, I'll send them up by the old church. "

"Give me a torch, and I'll run myself. "

"Ay, do, and I'll put on my boots, and after you. "

Then Jael got a torch, and kilted her gown to her knees, and wentstriding through the snow with desperate vigor, crying as she went, forher fear was great and her hope was small, from the moment she heard theGabriel hounds. 

Owing to the torch, Grace saw her first, and uttered a little scream; aloud scream of rapture replied: the torch went anywhere, and gentle andsimple were locked in each other's arms, Jael sobbing for very joy afterterror, and Grace for sympathy, and also because she wanted to cry, onmore accounts than one. 

Another torch came on, and Jael cried triumphantly, "This way, Squire. She is here!" and kissed her violently again. 

Mr. Raby came up, and took her in his arms, without a word, being brokenwith emotion: and, after he had shaken Coventry by both hands, they allturned homeward, and went so fast that Coventry gave in with a groan. 

Then Grace told Jael what had befallen him, and just then another torchcame in, held by George the blacksmith, who, at sight of the party, uttered a stentorian cheer, and danced upon the snow. 

"Behave, now, " said Jael, "and here's the gentleman sore hurt in theriver; Geordie, come and make a chair with me. "

George obeyed and put out his hands, with the fingers upward, Jael didthe same, with the fingers downward: they took hands, and, putting theirstalwart arms under Coventry, told him to fling an arm round each oftheir necks: he did so, and up he went; he was no more than a feather tothis pair, the strongest man and woman in Cairnhope. 

As they went along, he told them his adventure in the stream, and, whenthey heard it, they ejaculated to each other, and condoled with himkindly, and assured him he was alive by a miracle. 

They reached Raby, and, in the great hall, the Squire collected hispeople and gave his orders. "Stop the bell. Broach a barrel of ale, and keep open house, so long as malt, and bacon, and cheese last. Turnneither body nor beast from my door this night, or may God shut His gatein your faces. Here are two guineas, George, to ring the church-bells, you and your fellows; but sup here first. Cans of hot water upstairs, for us. Lay supper, instead of dinner; brew a bowl of punch. Light allthe Yule candles, as if it was Christmas eve. But first down on yourknees, all of ye, whilst I thank God, who has baffled those GabrielHell-hounds for once, and saved a good man and a bonny lass from a dog'sdeath. "

They all went down on their knees, on the marble floor, directly, andthe Squire uttered a few words of hearty thanksgiving, and there wasscarcely a dry eye. 

Then the guests went upstairs, and had their hot baths, and changedtheir clothes, and came down to supper in the blazing room. 

Whilst they were at supper, the old servant who waited on them saidsomething in a low voice to his master. He replied that he would speakto the man in the hall. 

As soon as he was gone, Miss Carden said in French, "Did you hear that?"

"No. "

"Well, I did. Now, mind your promise. We shall have to fib. You hadbetter say nothing. Let me speak for you; ladies fib so much better thangentlemen. "

Mr. Raby came back, and Grace waited to see if he would tell her. I don't think he intended to, at first: but he observed her eyesinquiring, and said, "One of the men, who was out after you tonight, hasbrought in word there is a light in Cairnhope old church. "

"Do you believe it?"

"No. But it is a curious thing; a fortnight ago (I think, I told you) ashepherd brought me the same story. He had seen the church on fire; atleast he said so. But mark the paralyzing effect of superstition. Mypresent informant no sooner saw this light--probably a reflection fromone of the distant torches--than he coolly gave up searching for you. 'They are dead, ' says he, 'and the spirits in the old church are sayingmass for their souls. I'll go to supper. ' So he came here to drink myale, and tell his cock-and-bull story. "

Grace put in her word with a sweet, candid face. "Sir, if there had beena light in that church, should we not have seen it?"

"Why, of course you would: you must have been within a hundred yards ofit in your wanderings. I never thought of that. "

Grace breathed again. 

"However, we shall soon know. I have sent George and another man rightup to the church to look. It is quite clear now. "

Grace felt very anxious, but she forced on a careless air. "And suppose, after all, there should be a light?"

"Then George has his orders to come back and tell me; if there is alight, it is no ghost nor spirit, but some smuggler, or poacher, orvagrant, who is desecrating that sacred place; and I shall turn out withfifty men, and surround the church, and capture the scoundrel, and makean example of him. "

Grace turned cold and looked at Mr. Coventry. She surprised a twinkle ofsatisfaction in his eye. She never forgot it. 

She sat on thorns, and was so distraite she could hardly answer thesimplest question. 

At last, after an hour of cruel suspense, the servant came in, and said, "George is come back, sir. "

"Oh, please let him come in here, and tell us. "

"By all means. Send him in. "

George appeared, the next moment, in the doorway. "Well?" said Mr. Raby. 

"Well?" said Grace, pale, but self-possessed. 

"Well, " said George, sulkily, "it is all a lie. Th' old church is asblack as my hat. "

"I thought as much, " said Mr. Raby. "There, go and get your supper. "

Soon after this Grace went up to bed, and Jael came to her, and theytalked by the fire while she was curling her hair. She was in highspirits, and Jael eyed her with wonder and curiosity. 

"But, miss, " said Jael, "the magpie was right. Oh, the foul bird! That'sthe only bird that wouldn't go into the ark with Noah and his folk. "

"Indeed! I was not aware of the circumstance. "

"'Twas so, miss; and I know the reason. A very old woman told me. "

"She must have been very old indeed, to be an authority on that subject. Well, what was the reason?"

"She liked better to perch on the roof of th' ark, and jabber over thedrowning world; that was why. So, ever after that, when a magpie fliesacross, turn back, or look to meet ill-luck. "

"That is to say the worst creatures are stronger than their Creator, and can bring us bad luck against His will. And you call yourself aChristian? Why this is Paganism. They were frightened at ravens, and youat magpies. A fig for your magpies! and another for your Gabriel hounds!God is high above them all. "

"Ay, sure; but these are signs of His will. Trouble and all comes fromGod. And so, whenever you see a magpie, or hear those terrible hounds--"

"Then tremble! for it is all to end in a bowl of punch, and a roaringfire; and Mr. Raby, that passes for a Tartar, being so kind to me; andme being in better spirits than I have been for ever so long. "

"Oh, miss!"

"And oh, miss, to you. Why, what is the matter? I have been in danger!Very well; am I the first? I have had an adventure! All the better. Besides, it has shown me what good hearts there are in the world, yoursamongst the rest. " (Kissing her. ) "Now don't interrupt, but listen tothe words of the wise and their dark sayings. Excitement is a blessing. Young ladies need it more than anybody. Half the foolish things we do, it is because the old people are so stupid and don't provide us enoughinnocent excitement. Dancing till five is a good thing now and then;only that is too bodily, and ends in a headache, and feeling stupiderthan before. But to-night, what glorious excitement! Too late fordinner--drenched with snow--lost on a mountain--anxiety--fear--theGabriel hounds--terror--despair--resignation--suddenrelief--warm stockings--delightful sympathy--petted on everyside--hungry--happy--fires--punch! I never lived till to-night--I neverrelished life till now. How could I? I never saw Death nor Danger nearenough to be worth a straw. "

Jael made no attempt to arrest this flow of spirits. She waited quietlyfor a single pause, and then she laid her hand on the young lady's, and, fastening her eyes on her, she said quietly, --

"You have seen HIM. "

Grace Carden's face was scarlet in a moment, and she looked with arueful imploring glance, into those great gray searching eyes of JaelDence. 

Her fine silvery tones of eloquence went off into a little piteous whine"You are very cunning--to believe in a magpie. " And she hid her blushingface in her hands. She took an early opportunity of sending this toosagacious rustic to bed. 

Next day Mr. Coventry was so stiff and sore he did not come down tobreakfast. But Grace Carden, though very sleepy, made her appearance, and had a most affectionate conversation with Mr. Raby. She asked leaveto christen him again. "I must call you something, you know, afterall this. Mr. Raby is cold. Godpapa is childish. What do you sayto--'Uncle'?"

He said he should be delighted. Then she dipped her forefinger in water. He drew back with horror. 

"Come, young lady, " said he, "I know it is an age of burlesque. But letus spare the sacraments, and the altar, and such trifles. "

"I am not half so wicked as you think, " said Grace. Then she wrote"Uncle" on his brow, and so settled that matter. 

Mr. Coventry came down about noon, and resumed his courtship. Hewas very tender, spoke of the perils they had endured together as anadditional tie, and pressed his suit with ardor. 

But he found a great change in the lady. 

Yesterday, on Cairnhope Peak, she was passive, but soft and complying. To-day she was polite, but cool, and as slippery as an eel. There was nopinning her. 

And, at last, she said, "The fact is I'm thinking of our greatpreservation, and more inclined to pray than flirt, for once. "

"And so am I, " said the man of tact; "but what I offer is a sacred andlife-long affection. "

"Oh, of course. "

"A few hours ago you did me the honor to listen to me. You even hinted Imight speak to your father. "

"No, no. I only asked if you HAD spoken to him. "

"I will not contradict you. I will trust to your own candor. Dear Grace, tell me, have I been so unfortunate as to offend you since then?"

"No. "

"Have I lost your respect?"

"Oh, no. "

"Have I forfeited your good opinion?"

"Dear me, no. " (A little pettishly. )

"Then how is it that I love you better, if possible, than yesterday, andyou seem not to like me so well as yesterday?"

"One is not always in the same humor. "

"Then you don't like me to-day?"

"Oh yes, but I do. And I shall always like you: if you don't tease me, and urge me too much. It is hardly fair to hurry me so; I am only agirl, and girls make such mistakes sometimes. "

"That is true; they marry on too short an acquaintance. But you haveknown me more than two years, and, in all that time, have I once givenyou reason to think that you had a rival in my admiration, my love?"

"I never watched you to see. But all that time you have certainlyhonored me with your attention, and I do believe you love me more thanI deserve. Please do not be angry: do not be mortified. There is nooccasion; I am resolved not to marry until I am of age; that is all; andwhere's the harm of that?"

"I will wait your pleasure; all I ask you, at present, is to relieve meof my fears, by engaging yourself to me. "

"Ah! but I have always been warned against long engagements. "

"Long engagements! Why, how old are you, may I ask?"

"Only nineteen. Give me a little time to think. "

"If I wait till you are of age, THAT WILL BE TWO YEARS. "

"Just about. I was nineteen on the 12th of December. What is thematter?"

"Oh, nothing. A sudden twinge. A man does not get rolled over sharprocks, by a mountain torrent, for nothing. "

"No, indeed. "

"Never mind that, if I'm not to be punished in my heart as well. Thisresolution, not to marry for two years, is it your own idea? or hassomebody put it into your head since we stood on Cairnhope, and lookedat Bollinghope?"

"Please give me credit for it, " said Grace, turning very red: "it is theonly sensible one I have had for a long time. "

Mr. Coventry groaned aloud, and turned very pale. 

Grace said she wanted to go upstairs for her work, and so got away fromhim. 

She turned at the door, and saw him sink into a chair, with an agony inhis face that was quite new to him. 

She fled to her own room, to think it all over, and she entered it sorapidly that she caught Jael crying, and rocking herself before thefire. 

The moment she came in Jael got up, and affected to be very busy, arranging things; but always kept her back turned to Grace. 

The young lady sat down, and leaned her cheek on her hand, and reflectedvery sadly and seriously on the misery she had left in the drawing-room, and the tears she had found here. 

Accustomed to make others bright and happy by her bare presence, thisbeautiful and unselfish young creature was shocked at the misery shewas sowing around her, and all for something her judgment told her wouldprove a chimera. And again she asked herself was she brave enough, andselfish enough, to defy her father and her godfather, whose mind waswritten so clearly in that terrible inscription. 

She sat there, cold at heart, a long time, and at last came to adesperate resolution. 

"Give me my writing-desk. "

Jael brought it her. 

"Sit down there where I can see you; and don't hide your tears fromme. I want to see you cry. I want every help. I wasn't born to makeeverybody miserable: I am going to end it. "

She wrote a little, and then she stopped, and sighed; then she wrote alittle more, and stopped, and sighed. Then she burned the letter, andbegan again; and as she wrote, she sighed; and as she wrote on, shemoaned. 

And, as she wrote on, the tears began to fall upon the paper. 

It was piteous to see the struggle of this lovely girl, and the patientfortitude that could sigh, and moan, and weep, yet go on doing the braveact that made her sigh, and moan, and weep. 

At last, the letter was finished, and directed; and Grace put it in herbosom, and dismissed Jael abruptly, almost harshly, and sat down, coldand miserable, before the fire. 

At dinner-time her eyes were so red she would not appear. She pleadedheadache, and dined in her own room. 

Meantime Mr. Coventry passed a bitter time. 

He had heard young Little say, "Wait two years. " And now Grace wasevading and procrastinating, and so, literally, obeying that young man, with all manner of false pretenses. This was a revelation, and cast backa bright light on many suspicious things he had observed in the church. 

He was tortured with jealous agony. And it added to his misery that hecould not see his way to any hostilities. 

Little could easily be driven out of the country, for that matter; hehad himself told them both how certainly that would befall him if he wasbetrayed to the Unions. But honor and gratitude forbade this line; andCoventry, in the midst of his jealous agony, resisted that temptationfiercely, would not allow his mind even to dwell upon it for a moment. 

He recalled all his experiences; and, after a sore struggle of passion, he came to some such conclusion as this: that Grace would have marriedhim if she had not unexpectedly fallen in with Little, under verypeculiar and moving circumstances; that an accident of this kind wouldnever occur again, and he must patiently wear out the effect of it. 

He had observed that in playing an uphill game of love the lover mustconstantly ask himself, "What should I do, were I to listen to myheart?" and having ascertained that, must do the opposite. So now Mr. Coventry grimly resolved to control his wishes for a time, to hide hisjealousy, to hide his knowledge of her deceit, to hide his own anger. Hewould wait some months before he again asked her to marry him, unless hesaw a change in her; and, meantime, he would lay himself out to pleaseher, trusting to this, that there could be no intercourse by letterbetween her and a workman, and they were not likely to meet again in ahurry. 

It required considerable fortitude to curb his love and jealousy, andsettle on this course. But he did conquer after a hard struggle, andprepared to meet Miss Carden at dinner with artificial gayety. 

But she did not appear; and that set Mr. Coventry thinking again. Why should she have a headache? He had a rooted disbelief in women'sheadaches. His own head had far more reason to ache, and his heart too. He puzzled himself all dinner-time about this headache, and was very badcompany. 

Soon after dinner he took a leaf out of her book, pretended headache, and said he should like to take a turn by himself in the air. 

What he really wanted to do was to watch Miss Carden's windows, for hehad all manner of ugly suspicions. 

There seemed to be a strong light in the room. He could see no more. 

He walked moodily up and down, very little satisfied with himself, andat last he got ashamed of his own thoughts. 

"Oh, no!" he said, "she is in her room, sure enough. "

He turned his back, and strolled out into the road. 

Presently he heard the rustle of a woman's dress. He stepped into theshade of the firs directly, and his heart began to beat hard. 

But it was only Jael Dence. She came out within a few yards of him. She had something white in her hand, which, however, she instinctivelyconveyed into her bosom the moment she found herself in the moonlight. Coventry saw her do it though. 

She turned to the left, and walked swiftly up the road. 

Now Coventry knew nothing about this girl, except that she belonged toa class with whom money generally goes a long way. And he now askedhimself whether it might not be well worth his while to enlist hersympathies on his side. 

While he was coming to this conclusion, Jael, who was gliding along ata great pace, reached a turn in the road, and Mr. Coventry had to runafter her to catch her. 

When he got to the turn in the road, she was just going round anotherturn, having quickened her pace. 

Coventry followed more leisurely. She might be going to meet hersweetheart; and, if so, he had better talk to her on her return. 

He walked on till he saw at some distance a building, with light shiningthough it in a peculiar way; and now the path became very rugged anddifficult. He came to a standstill, and eyed the place where hisrival was working at that moment. He eyed it with a strange mixtureof feelings. It had saved his life and hers, after all. He fell intoanother mood, and began to laugh at himself for allowing himself to bedisturbed by such a rival. 

But what is this? Jael Dence comes in sight again: she is making for theold church. 

Coventry watched her unseen. She went to the porch, and, after she hadbeen there some time, the door was opened just a little, then wide, and she entered the building. He saw it all in a moment: the girl wasalready bought by the other side, and had carried his rival a letterbefore his eyes. 

A clandestine correspondence!

All his plans and his resolutions melted away before this discovery. There was nothing to be done but to save the poor girl from thismiserable and degrading attachment, and its inevitable consequences. 

He went home, pale with fury, and never once closed his eyes all night. 

Next day he ordered his dog-cart early; and told Mr. Raby and Grace hewas going to Hillsborough for medical advice: had a pain in his back hecould not get rid of. 

He called on the chief constable of Hillsborough, and asked him, confidentially, if he knew any thing about a workman called Little. 

"What; a Londoner, sir? the young man that is at odds with the Trades?"

"I shouldn't wonder. Yes; I think he is. A friend of mine takes aninterest in him. "

"And so do I. His case was a disgrace to the country, and to theconstabulary of the place. It occurred just ten days before I came here, and it seems to me that nothing was done which ought to have been done. "

Mr. Coventry put in a question or two, which elicited from Mr. Ransomeall he knew about the matter. 

"Where does this Little live?" was the next inquiry. 

"I don't know; but I think you could learn at Mr. Cheetham's. The onlytime I ever saw Little, he was walking with the foreman of those works. He was pointed out to me. A dark young man; carries himself remarkablywell--doesn't look like a workman. If they don't know at Cheetham's, I'll find him out for you in twenty-four hours. "

"But this Grotait. Do you know him?"

"Oh, he is a public character. Keeps 'The Cutlers' Arms, ' in BlackStreet. "

"I understand he repudiates all these outrages. "

"He does. But the workmen themselves are behind the scenes; and what dothey call him? Why, 'Old Smitem. '"

"Ah! You are one of those who look below the surface, " said thecourtier. 

He then turned the conversation, and, soon after, went away. He had beenadroit enough to put his questions in the languid way of a man who hadno personal curiosity, and was merely discharging a commission. 

Mr. Ransome, as a matter of form, took a short note of the conversation;but attached no importance to it. However, he used the means at hiscommand to find out Little's abode. Not that Mr. Coventry had positivelyasked him to do it; but, his attention being thus unexpectedly called tothe subject, he felt desirous to talk to Little on his own account. 

Mr. Coventry went straight to "The Cutlers' Arms, " but he went slowly. A powerful contest was now going on within him; jealousy and rageurged him onward, honor and gratitude held him back. Then came hisself-deceiving heart, and suggested that Miss Carden had been the firstto break her promise (she had let Jael Dence into Little's secret), and that he himself was being undermined by cunning and deceit: strictnotions of honor would be out of place in such a combat. Lastly, he feltit his DUTY to save Miss Carden from a degrading connection. 

All these considerations, taken together, proved too strong for his goodfaith; and so stifled the voice of conscience, that it could only keepwhispering against the deed, but not prevent it. 

He went direct to "The Cutlers' Arms. " He walked into the parlor andordered a glass of brandy-and-water, and asked if he could see Mr. Grotait, privately. Mr. Grotait came in. 

"Sit down, Mr. Grotait. Will you have any thing?"

"A glass of ale, sir, if you please. "

When this had been brought, and left, and the parties were alone, Coventry asked him whether he could receive a communication under astrict promise of secrecy. 

"If it is a trade matter, sir, you can trust me. A good many have. "

"Well then, I can tell you something about a workman called Little. Butbefore I say a word, I must make two express conditions. One is, that noviolence shall be used toward him; the other, that you never reveal toany human creature, it was I who told you. "

"What, is he working still?"

"My conditions, Mr. Grotait?"

"I promise you absolute secrecy, sir, as far as you are concerned. As toyour other condition, the matter will work thus: if your communicationshould be as important as you think, I can do nothing--the man is not inthe saw-trade--I shall carry the information to two other secretaries, and shall not tell them I had it from Mr. Coventry, of Bollinghope. "(Mr. Coventry started at finding himself known. ) "Those gentlemen willbe sure to advise with me, and I shall suggest to them to take effectualmeasures, but to keep it, if possible, from the knowledge of all thosepersons who discredit us by their violent acts. "

"Well then, on that understanding--the man works all night in a desertedchurch at Cairnhope; it is all up among the hills. "

Grotait turned red. "Are you sure of this?"

"Quite sure?"

"You have seen him?"

"Yes. "

"Has he a forge?"

"Yes; and bellows, and quantities of molds, and strips of steel. He isworking on a large scale. "

"It shall be looked into, sir, by the proper persons. Indeed, the soonerthey are informed, the better. "

"Yes, but mind, no violence. You are strong enough to drive him out ofthe country without that. "

"I should hope so. "

Coventry then rose, and left the place; but he had no sooner got intothe street, than a sort of horror fell on him; horror of himself, distrust and dread of the consequences, to his rival but benefactor. 

Almost at the door he was met by Mr. Ransome, who stopped him and gavehim Little's address; he had obtained it without difficulty from Bayne. 

"I am glad you reminded me, sir, " said he; "I shall call on him myself, one of these days. "

These words rang in Coventry's ears, and put him in a cold perspiration. "Fool!" thought he, "to go and ask a public officer, a man who hearsevery body in turn. "

What he had done disinclined him to return to Cairnhope. He made a callor two first, and loitered about, and then at last back to Raby, gnawedwith misgivings and incipient remorse. 

Mr. Grotait sent immediately for Mr. Parkin, Mr. Jobson, and Mr. Potter, and told them the secret information he had just received. 

They could hardly believe it at first; Jobson, especially, wasincredulous. He said he had kept his eye on Little, and assured them theman had gone into woodcarving, and was to be seen in the town all day. 

"Ay, " said Parkin, "but this is at night; and, now I think of it, I methim t'other day, about dusk, galloping east, as hard as he could go. "

"My information is from a sure source, " said Grotait, stiffly. 

Parkin. --"What is to be done?"

Jobson. --"Is he worth another strike?"

Potter. --"The time is unfavorable: here's a slap of dull trade. "

The three then put their heads together, and various plans weresuggested and discussed, and, as the parties were not now before thepublic, that horror of gunpowder, vitriol, and life-preservers, whichfigured in their notices and resolutions, did not appear in theirconversation. Grotait alone was silent and doubtful. This Grotait wasthe greatest fanatic of the four, and, like all fanatics, capable ofvast cruelty: but his cruelty lay in his head, rather than in his heart. Out of Trade questions, the man, though vain and arrogant, was of agenial and rather a kindly nature; and, even in Trade questions, beingmore intelligent than his fellows, he was sometimes infested with agleam of humanity. 

His bigotry was, at this moment, disturbed by a visitation of that kind. 

"I'm perplexed, " said he: "I don't often hesitate on a Trade questionneither. But the men we have done were always low-lived blackguards, whowould have destroyed us, if we had not disabled them. Now this Little isa decent young chap. He struck at the root of our Trades, so long ashe wrought openly. But on the sly, and nobody knowing but ourselves, mightn't it be as well to shut our eyes a bit? My informant is not intrade. "

The other three took a more personal view of the matter. Little wasoutwitting, and resisting them. They saw nothing for it but to stop him, by hook or by crook. 

While they sat debating his case in whispers, and with their heads soclose you might have covered them all with a tea-tray, a clear musicalvoice was heard to speak to the barmaid, and, by her direction, inwalked into the council-chamber--Mr. Henry Little. 

This visit greatly surprised Messrs. Parkin, Jobson, and Potter, andmade them stare, and look at one another uneasily. But it did notsurprise Grotait so much, and it came about in the simplest way. Thatmorning, at about eleven o'clock, Dr. Amboyne had called on Mrs. Little, and had asked Henry, rather stiffly, whether he was quite forgettingLife, Labor and Capital. Now the young man could not but feel that, for some time past, he had used the good doctor ill; had neglected andalmost forgotten his benevolent hobby; so the doctor's gentle reproachwent to his heart, and he said, "Give me a day or two, sir, and I'llshow you how ashamed I am of my selfish behavior. " True to his pledge, he collected all his notes together, and prepared a report, to beillustrated with drawings. He then went to Cheetham's, more as a matterof form than any thing, to see if the condemned grindstone had beenchanged. To his infinite surprise he found it had not, and Bayne toldhim the reason. Henry was angry, and went direct to Grotait about it. 

But as soon as he saw Jobson, and Parkin, and Potter, he started, andthey started. "Oh!" said he, "I didn't expect to find so much goodcompany. Why, here's the whole quorum. "

"We will retire, sir, if you wish it. "

"Not at all. My orders are to convert you all to Life, Labor, andCapital (Grotait pricked up his ears directly); and, if I succeed, the Devil will be the next to come round, no doubt. Well, Mr. Grotait, Simmons is on that same grindstone you and I condemned. And all fora matter of four shillings. I find that, in your trade, the masterprovides the stone, but the grinder hangs and races it, which, inone sense, is time lost. Well, Simmons declines the new stone, unlessCheetham will pay him by time for hanging and racing it; Cheethamrefuses; and so, between them, that idiot works on a faulty stone. Willyou use your influence with the grinder?"

"Well, Mr. Little, now, between ourselves don't you think it ratherhard that the poor workman should have to hang and race the master'sgrindstone for nothing?"

"Why, they share the loss between them. The stone costs the master threepounds; and hanging it costs the workman only four or five shillings. Where's the grievance?"

"Hanging and racing a stone shortens the grinder's life; fills his lungswith grit. Is the workman to give Life and Labor for a forenoon, andis Capital to contribute nothing? Is that your view of Life, Labor, andCapital, young man?"

Henry was staggered a moment. "That is smart, " said he. "But a rule oftrade is a rule, till it is altered by consent of the parties that madeit. Now, right or wrong, it is the rule of trade here that the smallgrinders find their own stones, and pay for power; but the saw-grindersare better off, for they have not to find stones, nor power, and theironly drawback is that they must hang and race a new stone, which coststhe master sixty shillings. Cheetham is smarting under your rules, andyou can't expect him to go against any rule, that saves him a shilling. "

"What does the grinder think?"

"You might as well ask what the grindstone thinks. "

"Well, what does the grinder say, then?"

"Says he'd rather run the stone out, than lose a forenoon. "

"Well, sir, it is his business. "

"It may be a man's business to hang himself; but it is the bystanders'to hinder him. "

"You mistake me. I mean that the grinder is the only man who knowswhether a stone is safe. "

"Well, but this grinder does not pretend his stone is safe. All he saysis, safe or not, he'll run it out. So now the question is, will youpay four shillings from your box for this blockhead's loss of time inhanging and racing a new stone?"

All the four secretaries opened their eyes with surprise at this. ButGrotait merely said he had no authority to do that; the funds of theUnion were set apart for specified purposes. 

"Very likely, " said Henry, getting warm: "but, when there's life to beTAKEN, your Union can find money irregularly; so why grudge it, whenthere's life to be saved perhaps, and ten times cheaper than you pay forblood?"

"Young man, " said Grotait, severely, "did you come here to insult uswith these worn-out slanders?"

"No, but I came to see whether you secretaries, who can find pounds toassassinate men, and blow up women and children with gunpowder, can findshillings to secure the life of one of your own members; he risks itevery time he mounts his horsing. "

"Well, sir, the application is without precedent, and I must decline it;but this I beg to do as courteously, as the application has been madeuncourteously. "

"Oh, it is easy to be polite, when you've got no heart. "

"You are the first ever brought that charge against me. "

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, " said Potter, warmly. "No heart!Mr. Grotait is known for a good husband, a tender father, and the truestfriend in Hillsborough. "

The others echoed these sentiments warmly and sincerely; for, as strangeas it may appear to those who have not studied human nature at firsthand, every word of this eulogy was strictly true. 

"Thank you, gentlemen, " said Grotait. "But we must make allowances. Mr. Little is smarting under a gross and dastardly outrage, and also undera fair defeat; and thinks his opponents must be monsters. Now I shouldlike to show him the contrary. Let Simmons take care of himself. Youhave given him good advice, and much to your credit: now have younothing to say to us, on your own account?"

"Not a word, " said Henry, steadily

"But suppose I could suggest a way by which you could carry on yourtrade in Hillsborough, and offend nobody?"

"I should decline to hear it even. You and I are at war on that. Youhave done your worst, and I shall do my best to make you all smart forit, the moment I get a chance. "

Grotait's cheek reddened with anger at this rebuff, and it cost him aneffort to retain his friendly intentions. "Come, come, " said he, rathersurlily, "don't be in a hurry till you have heard the nature of myproposal. Here, Jess, a quart of the best ale. Now, to begin, let usdrink and be comfortable together. "

He passed the glass to Little first. But the young man's blood wasboiling with his wrongs, and this patronizing air irritated him to boot. He took the glass in his hand, "Here's quick exposure--sudden death--andsure damnation--to all hypocrites and assassins!" He drained the glassto this toast, flung sixpence on the table, and strode out, white withpassion himself, and leaving startled faces behind him. 

"So be it, " said Grotait; and his wicked little eye glittereddangerously. 

That same evening, a signal, well known to certain workmen inHillsborough, peeped in the window of "The Cutlers' Arms. " And, inconsequence, six or seven ill-conditioned fellows gathered about thedoors and waited patiently for further information. 

Amongst these was a sturdy fellow of about nine-and-twenty, whoseexistence was a puzzle to his neighbors. During the last seven years hehad worked only eighteen months all together. The rest of the timehe had been on the Saw-Grinders' box, receiving relief, viz. : sevenshillings and sixpence for his wife, and two shillings for each child;and every now and then he would be seen with three or four sovereigns inhis possession. 

The name of this masterful beggar, of this invalid in theory, who, infact, could eat three pounds of steak at a sitting, was Biggs; but itis a peculiarity of Hillsborough to defy baptismal names, and substituteothers deemed spicier. Out of the parish register and the records of thepolice courts, the scamp was only known as Dan Tucker. 

This Dan stood, with others, loitering about "The Cutlers' Arms. "

Presently out came Grotait, and surveyed the rascally lot. He beckonedto Dan, and retired. 

Dan went in after him. 

"Drat his luck!" said one of the rejected candidates, "he always getsthe job. " The rest then dispersed. 

Tucker was shown into a pitch-dark room, and there a bargain was struckbetween him and men unseen. He and two more were to go to Cairnhope, and DO Little. He was to avoid all those men who had lately stood at thedoor with him, and was to choose for his companions Simmons the grinder, and one Sam Cole, a smooth, plausible fellow, that had been in many adark job, unsuspected even by his wife and family, who were respectable. 

Thus instructed, Tucker went to the other men, and soon reported toGrotait that he had got Cole all right, but that Simmons looked coldlyon the job. He was in full work, for one thing, and said Little had hadhis squeak already, and he didn't see following him eleven miles off;he had, however, asked him whether Little had a wife and children, whichquestion he, Tucker, could not answer. 

"But I can, " said Grotait. "He is a bachelor. You can tell Simmons so. There are reasons why Ned Simmons must be in this. Try him to-morrow atdinner-time. Bid two pounds more; and--his wife is near her time--tellhim this job will help him buy her wine and things, " said the kind, parental, diabolical Grotait. 

Next morning Henry worked with the pen for Dr. Amboyne till twelveo'clock. He then, still carrying out his friend's views, went down to MrCheetham's words to talk to Simmons. 

But he found an ill-looking fellow standing by the man's side, and closeat his ear. This was no other than Dan Tucker, who by a neat coincidencewas tempting him to DO Little. 

Yesterday's conversation had unsettled Simmons, and he did not cometo work till twelve o'clock. He then fixed a small pulley-wheel to hisgrindstone, to make up for lost time. 

He was still resisting the tempter, but more faintly than yesterday, when Little came in, and spoke to him. Both he and Dan were amazedat his appearance on the scene at that particular moment. They glaredstupidly but said nothing. 

"Look here, Simmons, " said Little. "I have been to your friend Grotait, and asked him to pay you for what you call time lost in hanging andracing a new stone. He won't do it. That's your FRIEND. Now I'm yourENEMY; so the Union says. Well, enemy or not, I'll do what Grotaitwon't. I'll pay you the four shillings for lost time, if you will stopthat stone at once, and hang another. "

"Why, what's wrong with the stone?"

"The best judge in Hillsborough condemned it; and now, if you are notrunning it with an undersized pulley-wheel, to try it worse!"

Simmons got stupid and irritated between the two. His bit of manhoodrevolted against Little's offer, made whilst he was half lending his earto Tucker's proposal; and, on the other hand, that very offer irritatedhim with Tucker, for coming and tempting him to DO this very Little, whowas a good sort. 

"---- you both!" said the rough fellow. "I wish you'd let me alone. HereI've lost my morning's work already. " Then to Little, "Mind thyself, oldlad. Happen thou's in more danger than I am. "

"What d'ye mean by that?" said Little, very sharply. 

But Simmons saw he had gone too far, and now maintained a sullensilence. 

Henry turned to Tucker. "I don't know who you are, but I call youwitness that I have done all I can for this idiot. Now, if he comes toharm, his blood be upon his own head. "

Then Henry went off in dudgeon, and, meeting Bayne in the yard, had along discussion with him on the subject. 

The tempter took advantage of Little's angry departure, and steadilyresumed his temptation. 

But he was interrupted in his turn. 

The defect in this grindstone was not so serious but that the stonemight perhaps have been ground out with fair treatment: but, by fixinga small pulley-wheel, Simmons had caused it to rotate at furious speed. This tried it too hard, and it flew in two pieces, just as the grinderwas pressing down a heavy saw on it with all his force. 

One piece, weighing about five hundredweight, tore the horsing chainsout of the floor, and went clean through the window (smashing thewood-work), out into the yard, and was descending on Little's head; buthe heard the crash and saw it coming; he ran yelling out of the way, and dragged Bayne with him. The other fragment went straight up to theceiling, and broke a heavy joist as if it had been a cane; then felldown again plump, and would have destroyed the grinder on the spot, hadhe been there; but the tremendous shock had sent him flying clean overthe squatter board, and he fell on his stomach on the wheel-band of thenext grindstone, and so close to the drum, that, before any one couldrecover the shock and seize him, the band drew him on to the drum, andthe drum, which was drawing away from the window, pounded him againstthe wall with cruel thuds. 

One ran and screamed to stop the power, another to cut the bigwheel-bands. All this took several seconds; and here seconds were tornflesh and broken bones. Just as Little darted into the room, pale withhis own narrow escape, and awe-stricken at the cries of horror within, the other grinders succeeded in dragging out, from between the wall andthe drum, a bag of broken bones and blood and grease, which a minutebefore was Ned Simmons, and was talking over a deed of violence to bedone. 

The others carried him and laid him on a horsing; and there they stillsupported his head and his broken limbs, sick with horror. 

The man's face was white, and his eyes stared, and his body quivered. They sprinkled him with water. 

Then he muttered, "All right. I am not much hurt. --Ay, but I am though. I'm done for. "

After the first terror of the scene had passed, the men were for takinghim to the infirmary. But Little interposed, eagerly, "No, no. I'll paythe doctor myself sooner. He shall be nursed at home, and have all thatskill can do to save him. Oh, why, why would he not listen to me?"

A stretcher was got, and a mattress put on it, and they carried himthrough the streets, while one ran before to tell the unhappy wife, and Little took her address, and ran to Dr. Amboyne. The doctor wentinstantly to the sufferer. 

Tucker assisted to carry the victim home. He then returned to Grotait, and told him the news. Dan was not so hardened but what he blubbered intelling it, and Grotait's eyes were moist with sympathy. 

They neither of them spoke out, and said, "This upsets our design onLittle. " Each waited to see whether that job was to go on. Each wasashamed to mention it now. So it came to a standstill. 

As for Little, he was so shocked by this tragedy and so anxious aboutits victim, that he would not go out to Cairnhope. He came, in theevening to Dr. Amboyne, to inquire, "Can he live?"

"I can't say yet. He will never work again. "

Then, after a silence, he fixed his eyes on young Little, and said, "I am going to make a trial of your disposition. This is the man Isuspected of blowing you up; and I'm of the same opinion still. "

"Then he has got his deserts, " were Henry's first words, after a pauseof astonishment. 

"Does that mean you forgive him, or you don't forgive him?"

"I dare say I should forgive the poor wretch, if he was to ask me. "

"And not without?"

"No. I might try and put it out of my head; but that is all I could do. "

"Is it true that you are the cause of his not being taken to theinfirmary?"

"Yes, I said I'd pay out of my own pocket sooner; and I'm not the sortto go from my word. The man shall want for nothing, sir. But pleasedon't ask me to love my enemies, and all that Rot. I scorn hypocrisy. Every man hates his enemies; he may hate 'em out like a man, or palaver'em, and beg God to forgive 'em (and that means damn 'em), and hate 'emlike a sneak; but he always hates 'em. "

The doctor laughed heartily. "Oh, how refreshing a thing it is to fallin with a fellow who speaks his real mind. However, I am not your enemy, am I?"

"No. You are the best friend I ever had--except my mother. "

"I am glad you think so; because I have a favor to ask you. "

"Granted, before ever you speak. "

"I want to know, for certain, whether Simmons was the man who blew youup; and I see but one way of learning it. You must visit him and bekind to him; and then my art tells me, he won't leave the world withouttelling you. Oblige me by taking him this bottle of wine, at once, andalso this sedative, which you can administer if he is in violent pain, but not otherwise. "

"Doctor, " said the young man, "you always get your own way with me. Andso you ought. "

Little stood by Simmons's bedside. 

The man's eye was set, his cheek streaked with red, and his head wasbandaged. He labored in breathing. 

Young Little looked at him gravely, and wondered whether this batteredfigure was really the man who had so nearly destroyed him. 

After some minutes of this contemplation, he said gravely "Simmons, Ihave brought you some wine. "

The man stared at him, and seemed confused. He made no reply. 

"Give me a spoon, " said Henry. 

Mrs. Simmons sat by the bedside rocking herself; she was stupefied withgrief; but her sister, a handy girl, had come to her in her trouble: shebrought Henry a spoon directly. 

He poured out a little wine, and put it to the sufferer's lips. He drankit, and said it was rare good stuff. Henry gave him a little more. 

Simmons then looked at him more intelligently and attentively, and gavea sort of shiver. "Who be you?"

"Henry Little; who advised you not to run that stone. "

"Ah!" said Simmons, "I thought it was you. " He seemed puzzled. But, after a while, he said, "I wish I had hearkened thee, lad. Give me somemore of yonder stuff. What is it?"

"Port wine. " Then he turned to the girl, and gave her a sovereign, andsent her out for some mutton-chops. "Meat and wine are all the physicyou are to have, my poor fellow. "

"It won't be for long, lad. And a good job too. For I'm a bad 'un. I'm abad 'un. "

Henry then turned to the poor woman, and tried to say something toconsole her, but the words stuck in his throat. She was evidently nearher confinement; and there lay her husband, worse than in his grave. Little broke down himself, while trying to comfort her. 

The sufferer heard him, and said, all of a sudden, "Hold a light here. "

Henry took the candle, and held it over him. 

"Nay, nay, it is thy face I want to see. "

Henry was puzzled at the request, but did as he was asked. 

Simmons gave a groan. "Ay, " said he, "thou'st all right. And I lie here. That seems queer. "

The sister now returned, and Henry wrote her his address, and conversedwith her, and told her the whole story of the grindstone, and said that, as he had hindered Simmons from being taken to the infirmary, he feltbound to see he did not suffer by that interference. He gave her hisaddress, and said, if anything was wanted, she must come to him, or tohis mother if he should be out. 

No doubt the women talked of his kindness by the sick bed, and Simmonsheard it. 

Early in the morning Eliza Watney called at Little's house, with hereyes very red, and said her brother-in-law wanted to speak to him. 

He went with her directly; and, on the road, asked her what it wasabout. 

"I'm ashamed to tell you, " said she, and burst out crying. "But I hopeGod will reward you; and forgive him: he is a very ignorant man. "

"Here I am, Simmons. "

"So I see. "

"Anything I can do for you?"

"No. "

"You sent for me. "

"Did I? Well, I dare say I did. But gi' me time. Gi' me time. It's noaneso easy to look a man in the face, and tell him what I'm to tell thee. But I can't die with it on me. It chokes me, ever since you brought meyonder stuff, and the women set a-talking. I say--old lad--'twas I didthee yon little job at Cheetham's. But I knew no better. "

There was a dead silence. And then Henry spoke. 

"Who set you on?"

"Nay, that's their business. "

"How did you do it?"

At this question--will it be believed?--the penitent's eye twinkled withmomentary vanity. "I fastened a tea-cup to an iron rake, and filled thecup with powder; then I passed it in, and spilt the powder out of cup, and raked it in to the smithy slack, and so on, filling and raking in. But I did thee one good turn, lad; I put powder as far from bellows as Icould. Eh, but I was a bad 'un to do the like to thee; and thou's a good'un to come here. When I saw thee lie there, all scorched and shaking, I didn't like my work; and now I hate it. But I knew no better at thetime. And, you see, I've got it worse myself. And cheap served too. "

"Oh, Mr. Little, " said Eliza Watney; "TRY and forgive him. "

"My girl, " said Henry, solemnly, "I thought I never could forgive theman who did that cruel deed to me, and I had never injured any one. Butit is hard to know one's own mind, let alone another man's. Now I lookat him lying pale and battered there, it seems all wiped out. I forgiveyou, my poor fellow, and I hope God will forgive you too. "

"Nay. He is not so soft as thou. This is how He forgives me. But I knewno better. Old gal, learn the young 'un to read, that's coming just asI'm going; it is sore against a chap if he can't read. Right and wrongd--n 'em, they are locked up in books, I think: locked away from a chaplike me. I know a little better now. But, eh, dear, dear, it is come toolate. " And now the poor wretch began to cry at a gleam of knowledge ofright and wrong having come to him only just when he could no longerprofit by it. 

Henry left him at last, with the tears in his eyes. He promised them allto come every day. 

He called on Dr. Amboyne, and said, "You are always right, doctor. Simmons was the man, he has owned it, and I forgave him. "

He then went and told Mr. Holdfast. That gentleman was much pleased atthe discovery, and said, "Ah, but who employed him? That is what youmust discover. "

"I will try, " said Henry. "The poor fellow had half a mind to make aclean breast; but I didn't like to worry him over it. "

Returning home he fell in with Grotait and Parkin. They were talkingearnestly at the door of a public-house, and the question they werediscussing was whether or not Little's affair should be revived. 

They were both a good deal staggered by the fate of Simmons, Parkinespecially, who was rather superstitious. He had changed sides, and wasnow inclined to connive, or, at all events to temporize; to abandon thematter till a more convenient time. Grotait, on the other hand, whosevanity the young man had irritated, was bent on dismounting his forge. But even he had cooled a little, and was now disinclined to violence. He suggested that it must be easy to drive a smith out of a church, bygoing to the parochial authorities; and they could also send Little ananonymous letter, to tell him the Trades had their eyes on him; by thisdouble stroke, they would probably bring him to some reasonable terms. 

It certainly was a most unfortunate thing that Little passed that wayjust then; unfortunate that Youth is so impetuous. 

He crossed the street to speak to these two potentates, whom it was hisinterest to let alone--if he could only have known it. 

"Well, gentlemen, have you seen Simmons?"

"No, " said Mr. Parkin. 

"What, not been to see the poor fellow who owes his death to you?"

"He is not dead yet. "

"No, thank Heaven! He has got a good work to do first; some hypocrites, assassins, and cowards to expose. "

Parkin turned pale; Grotait's eye glistened like a snake's: he madeParkin a rapid signal to say nothing, but only listen. 

"He has begun by telling me who it was that put gunpowder into my forge, and how it was done. I have forgiven him. He was only the tool of muchworse villains; base, cowardly, sneaking villains. Those I shall notforgive. Oh, I shall know all about it before long. Good-morning. "

This information and threat, and the vindictive bitterness andresolution with which the young man had delivered it, struck terror intothe gentle Parkin, and shook even Grotait. The latter, however, soonrecovered himself, and it became a battle for life or death between himand Little. 

He invited Parkin to his own place, and there the pair sat closeted. 

Dan Tucker and Sam Cole were sent for. 

Tucker came first. He was instantly dispatched to Simmons, with moneyfrom the Saw Grinders' box. He was to ascertain how much Simmons had letout, and to adjure him to be true to the Trade, and split on no man buthimself. When he had been gone about twenty minutes, Sam Cole came in, and was instructed to get two other men in place of Simmons, and be inreadiness to do Little. 

By-and-by Tucker returned with news. Simmons had at present split onlyon himself; but the women were evidently in love with Little; saidhe was their only friend; and he, Tucker, foresaw that, with theirco-operation, Simmons would be turned inside out by Little before hedied. 

Grotait struck his hand on the table. "The Unions are in danger, " saidhe. "There is but one way, Little must be made so that he can't leaveCairnhope while Simmons is alive. "

So important did the crisis appear to him, that he insisted on Parkingoing with him at once to Cairnhope, to reconnoiter the ground. 

Parkin had a gig and a fast horse: so, in ten minutes more, they were onthe road. 

They reached Cairnhope, put up at the village inn, and soon extractedsome particulars about the church. They went up to it, and examined it, and Grotait gave Parkin a leg up, to peer through the window. 

In this position they were nailed by old George. 

"What be you at?"

"What is that to you?" said Grotait. 

"It is plenty. You mustn't come trespassing here. Squire won't have it. "

"Trespassing in a churchyard! Why it belongs to all the world. "

"Nay, this one belongs to the Lord o' the manor. "

"Well, we won't hurt your church. Who keeps the key?"

"Squire Raby. "

Old George from this moment followed them about everywhere, grumbling attheir heels, like a mastiff. 

Grotait, however, treated him with cool contempt, and proceeded to makea sketch of the door, and a little map showing how the church could beapproached from Hillsborough on foot without passing through Cairnhopevillage. This done, he went back with Parkin to the inn, and thence toHillsborough. 

It was old Christmas Eve. Henry was working at his forge, littledreaming of danger. Yet it was close at hand, and from two distinctquarters. 

Four men, with crape masks, and provided with all manner of tools, andarmed with bludgeons, were creeping about the churchyard, examining andlistening. Their orders were to make Little so that he should not leaveCairnhope for a month. And that, in plain English, meant to beat himwithin an inch of his life, if not kill him. 

At the same time, a body of nine men were stealing up the road, withdesigns scarcely less hostile to Little. 

These assailants were as yet at a considerable distance, but moreformidable in appearance than the others being most of them armed withswords, and led by a man with a double-barreled gun. 

Grotait's men, having well surveyed the ground, now crept softly up tothe porch, and examined the lock. 

The key was inside, and they saw no means of forcing the lock withoutmaking a noise, and putting their victim on his guard. 

After a long whispered consultation, they resolved to unscrew thehinges. 

These hinges were of great length, and were nailed upon the door, butscrewed into the door-post with four screws each. 

Two men, with excellent tools, and masters of the business, went softlyto work. One stood, and worked on the upper screws; the other kneeled, and unfastened the lower screws. 

They made no more noise than a rat gnawing; yet, such was their caution, and determination to surprise their victim, that they timed all theirwork by Little's. Whenever the blows of his hammer intermitted, theyleft off; and began again when he did. 

When all the screws were out but two, one above, one below, theybeckoned the other two men, and these two drove large gimlets into thedoor, and so held it that it might not fall forward when the last screwshould come out. 

"Are all screws out?" whispered Cole, who was the leader. 

"Ay, " was the whispered reply. 

"Then put in two more gimlets. "

That was done. 

"Now, men, " whispered Cole. "Lay the door softly down outside: then, upsticks--into church--and DO HIM!"

CHAPTER XIII. 

If Mr. Coventry, before he set all this mischief moving, could have seenthe INSIDE of Grace Carden's letter to Henry Little!

"DEAR MR. LITTLE, --I do not know whether I ought to write to you at all, nor whether it is delicate of me to say what I am going; but you havesaved my life, and I do so want to do all I can to atone for the pain Ihave given you, who have been so good to me. I am afraid you will neverknow happiness, if you waste your invaluable life longing after what isimpossible. There is an impassable barrier between you and me. Butyou might be happy if you would condescend to take my advice, and letyourself see the beauty and the goodness of another. The person whobears this letter comes nearer to perfection than any other woman I eversaw. If you would trust my judgment (and, believe me, I am not to bemistaken in one of my own sex), if you could turn your heart toward her, she would make you very happy. I am sure she could love you devotedly, if she only heard those words from your lips, which every woman requiresto hear before she surrenders her affections. Pray do not be angry withme; pray do not think it cost me little to give this strange but honestadvice to one I admire so. But I feel it would be so weak and selfish inme to cling to that, which, sooner or later, I must resign, and to makeso many persons unhappy, when all might be happy, except perhaps myself. 

"Once more, forgive me. Do not think me blind; do not think meheartless; but say, this is a poor girl, who is sadly perplexed, and istrying very hard to be good and wise, and not selfish. 

"One line, to say you will consider my advice, and never hate nordespise your grateful and unhappy friend. 

"GRACE CARDEN. "

When she had dispatched this letter, she felt heroic. 

The next day, she wished she had not written it, and awaited the replywith anxiety. 

The next day, she began to wonder at Little's silence: and by-and-by shewas offended at it. Surely what she had written with so great an effortwas worth a reply. 

Finally, she got it into her head that Little despised her. Upon thisshe was angry with him for not seeing what a sacrifice she had made, and for despising her, instead of admiring her a little, and pityingher ever so much. The old story in short--a girl vexed with a man forletting her throw dust in his eyes. 

And, if she was vexed with Little for not appreciating her sacrifice, she was quite as angry with Coventry and Jael for being the causes ofthat unappreciated sacrifice. So then she was irritable and cross. Butshe could not be that long: so she fell into a languid, listless state:and then she let herself drift. She never sent Jael to the church again. 

Mr. Coventry watched all her moods; and when she reached the listlessstage, he came softly on again, and began to recover his lost ground. 

On the fifth of January occurred a rather curious coincidence. InHillsborough Dr. Amboyne offered his services to Mrs. Little toreconcile her and her brother. Mrs. Little feared the proposal came toolate: but showed an inclination to be reconciled for Henry's sake. ButHenry said he would never be reconciled to a man who had insulted hismother. He then reminded her she had sent him clandestinely into RabyHall to see her picture. "And what did I see? Your picture wasturned with its face to the wall, and insulting words written on theback--'Gone into trade. ' I didn't mean to tell yell, mother; but you seeI have. And, after that, you may be reconciled to the old scoundrelif you like; but don't ask me. " Mrs. Little was deeply wounded by thisrevelation. She tried to make light of it, but failed. She had been abeauty, and the affront was too bitter. Said she, "You mustn't judge himlike other people: he was always so very eccentric. Turn my picture tothe wall! My poor picture! Oh, Guy, Guy, could one mother have borne youand me?" Amboyne had not a word more to say; he was indignant himself. 

Now that very afternoon, as if by the influence of what they call abrain-wave, Grace Carden, who felt herself much stronger with Mr. Rabythan when she first came, was moved to ask him, with many apologies, andno little inward tremor, whether she might see the other side of thatvery picture before she went. 

"What for?"

"Don't be angry, uncle dear. Curiosity. "

"I do not like to refuse you anything, Grace. But--Well, if I lend youthe key, will you satisfy your curiosity, and then replace the pictureas it is?"

"Yes, I will. "

"And you shall do it when I am not in the room. It would onlyopen wounds that time has skinned. I'll bring you down the key atdinner-time. " Then, assuming a lighter tone, "Your curiosity will bepunished; you will see your rival in beauty. That will be new to you. "

Grace was half frightened at her own success, and I doubt whether shewould ever have asked for the key again; but Raby's word was his bond;he handed her the key at dinner-time. 

Her eyes sparkled when she got it; but she was not to open it beforehim; so she fell thinking: and she determined to get the gentlemen intothe drawing-room as soon as she could, and then slip back and see thisfamous picture. 

Accordingly she left the table rather earlier than usual, and sat downto her piano in the drawing-room. 

But, alas, her little maneuver was defeated. Instead of the gentlemenleaving the dining-room, a servant was sent to recall her. 

It was old Christmas Eve, and the Mummers were come. 

Now, of all the old customs Mr. Raby had promised her, this was thepearl. 

Accordingly, her curiosity took for the time another turn, and she wassoon seated in the dining-room, with Mr. Raby and Mr. Coventry, awaitingthe Mummers. 

The servants then came in, and, when all was ready, the sound of afiddle was heard, and a fiddler, grotesquely dressed, entered along withtwo clowns, one called the Tommy, dressed in chintz and a fox's skinover his shoulders and a fox's head for a cap; and one, called theBessy, in a woman's gown and beaver hat. 

This pair introduced the true dramatis personae, to the drollest violinaccompaniment, consisting of chords till the end of each verse, and thena few notes of melody. 

 "Now the first that I call on Is George, our noble king, Long time he has been at war, Good tidings back he'll bring. Too-ral-loo. "

Thereupon in came a man, with black breeches and red stripes at theside, a white shirt decked with ribbons over his waistcoat, and a littlehat with streamers, and a sword. 

The clown walked round in a ring, and King George followed him, holdinghis sword upright. 

Meantime the female clown chanted, --

 "The next that we call on, He is a squire's son; He's like to lose his love, Because he is so young. Too-ral-loo. "

The Squire's Son followed King George round the ring; and the clowns, marching and singing at the head, introduced another, and then anothersword-dancer, all attired like the first, until there were five marchinground and round, each with his sword upright. 

Then Foxey sang, to a violin accompaniment, "Now, fiddler, then, take up thy fiddle, Play the lads their hearts' desire, Or else we'll break thy fiddle, And fling thee a-back o' the fire. "

On this the fiddler instantly played a dance-tune peculiar to thisoccasion, and the five sword-dancers danced by themselves in a ring, holding their swords out so as to form a cone. 

Then a knot, prepared beforehand, was slipped over the swords, and allthe swords so knotted were held aloft by the first dancer; he danced inthe center awhile, under the connected swords, then deftly drew his ownsword out and handed it to the second dancer; the second gave the thirddancer his sword, and so on, in rotation, till all the swords wereresumed. 

Raby's eyes sparkled with delight at all this, and he whispered hiscomments on the verses and the dance. 

"King George!" said he. "Bosh! This is the old story of St. George andthe Dragon, overburdened with modern additions. " As to the dance, heassured her that, though danced in honor of old Christmas, it was olderthan Christianity, and came from the ancient Goths and Swedes. 

These comments were interrupted by a man, with a white face, who burstinto the assembly crying, "Will ye believe me now? Cairnhope old churchis all afire!"

CHAPTER XIV. 

"Ay, Squire, " said Abel Eaves, for he was the bearer of this strangenews, "ye wouldn't believe ME, now come and see for yourself. "

This announcement set all staring; and George the blacksmith didbut utter the general sentiment when, suddenly dropping his assumedcharacter of King George, he said, "Bless us and save us! True ChristmasEve; and Cairnhope old church alight!"

Then there was a furious buzz of tongues, and, in the midst of it Mr. Raby disappeared, and the sword-dancers returned to the kitchen, talkingover this strange matter as they went. 

Grace retired to the drawing-room followed by Coventry. 

She sat silent some time, and he watched her keenly. 

"I wonder what has become of Mr. Raby?"

Mr. Coventry did not know. 

"I hope he is not going out. "

"I should think not, it is a very cold night; clear, but frosty. "

"Surely he would never go to see. "

"Shall I inquire?"

"No; but that might put it into his head. But I wish I knew where hewas. "

Presently a servant brought the tea in. 

Miss Carden inquired after Mr. Raby. 

"He is gone out, miss; but he won't be long, I was to tell you. "

Grace felt terribly uneasy and restless! rang the bell and asked forJael Dence. The reply was that she had not been to the hall that day. 

But, soon afterward, Jael came up from the village, and went into thekitchen of Raby. There she heard news, which soon took her into thedrawing-room. 

"Oh, miss, " said she, "do you know where the squire is?"

"Gone to the church?" asked Grace, trembling. 

"Ay, and all the sword-dancers at his back. " And she stood there andwrung her hands with dismay. 

The ancients had a proverb, "Better is an army of stags with a lion fortheir leader, than an army of lions with a stag for their leader. "The Cairnhope sword-dancers, though stout fellows and strong againsta mortal foe, were but stags against the supernatural; yet, led by GuyRaby, they advanced upon the old church with a pretty bold front, onlythey kept twenty yards in their leader's rear. The order was to march indead silence. 

At the last turn in the road their leader suddenly halted, and, kneelingon one knee, waved to his men to keep quiet: he had seen several darkfigures busy about the porch. 

After many minutes of thrilling, yet chilling, expectation, he rose andtold his men, in a whisper, to follow him again. 

The pace was now expedited greatly, and still Mr. Raby, with hisdouble-barreled gun in his hand, maintained a lead of some yards and hismen followed as noiselessly as they could, and made for the church: sureenough it was lighted inside. 

The young man who was thus beset by two distinct bands of enemies, deserved a very different fate at the hands of his fellow-creatures. 

For, at this moment, though any thing but happy himself, he was workingsome hours every day for the good of mankind; and was every day visitingas a friend the battered saw-grinder who had once put his own life inmortal peril. 

He had not fathomed the letter Grace had sent him. He was a young manand a straightforward; he did not understand the amiable defects of thefemale character. He studied every line of this letter, and it angeredand almost disgusted him. It was the letter of a lady; but beneath thesurface of gentleness and politeness lay a proposal which he consideredmean and cold-blooded. It lowered his esteem for her. 

His pride and indignation were roused, and battled with his love, and they were aided by the healthy invigorating habits into which Dr. Amboyne had at last inveigled him, and so he resisted: he wrote morethan one letter in reply to Grace Carden; but, when he came to read themover and compare them with her gentle effusion, he was ashamed of hisharshness, and would not send the letter. 

He fought on; philanthropy in Hillsborough, forging in Cairnhope Church;and still he dreamed strange dreams now and then: for who can work, bothnight and day, as this man did--with impunity?

One night he dreamed that he was working at his forge, when suddenly thefloor of the aisle burst, and a dead knight sprang from the grave witha single bound, and stood erect before him, in rusty armor: out of hishelmet looked two eyes like black diamonds, and a nose like a falcon's. Yet, by one of the droll contradictions of a dream, this impetuous, warlike form no sooner opened its lips, than out issued a lackadaisicalwhine. "See my breastplate, good sir, " said he. "It was bright as silverwhen I made it--I was like you, I forged my own weapons, forged themwith these hands. But now the damps of the grave have rusted it. Odsbodikins! is this a thing for a good knight to appear in before hisjudge? And to-morrow is doomsday, so they all say. "

Then Henry pitied the poor simple knight (in his dream), and offered hisservices to polish the corslet up a bit against that great occasion. Hepointed toward his forge, and the knight marched to it, in three widesteps that savored strongly of theatrical burlesque. But the moment hesaw the specimens of Henry's work lying about, he drew back, and wheeledupon the man of the day with huge disdain. "What, " said he, "do youforge toys! Learn that a gentleman can only forge those weapons of warthat gentlemen do use. And I took you for a Raby!"

With these bitter words he vanished, with flashing eyes and a lookof magnificent scorn, and left his fiery, haughty features imprintedclearly on Henry's memory. 

One evening, as he plied his hammer, he heard a light sound at a window, in an interval of his own noise. He looked hastily up, and caught amomentary sight of a face disappearing from the window. It was gone likea flash even as he caught sight of it. 

Transient as the glance was, it shook him greatly. He heated a bar ofiron white hot at one end, and sallied out into the night. But there wasnot a creature to be seen. 

Then he called aloud, "Who's there?" No reply. "Jael, was it you?" Deadsilence. 

He returned to his work, and set the appearance down to an ocularillusion. But his dreams had been so vivid, that this really seemed onlyone step more into the realm of hallucination. 

This was an unfortunate view of the matter. 

On old Christmas Eve he lighted the fires in his mausoleum first, andat last succeeded in writing a letter to Grace Carden. He got out ofthe difficulty in the best way, by making it very short. He put it inan envelope, and addressed it, intending to give it to Jael Dence, fromwhom he was always expecting a second visit. 

He then lighted his forge, and soon the old walls were ringing againwith the blows of his hammer. 

It was ten o'clock at night; a clear frosty night; but he was heatedand perspiring with his ardent work, when, all of a sudden, a cold airseemed to come in upon him from a new quarter--the door. He left hisforge, and took a few steps to where he could see the door. Instead ofthe door, he saw the blue sky. 

He uttered an exclamation, and rubbed his eyes. 

It was no hallucination. The door lay flat on the ground, and the starsglittered in the horizon. 

Young Little ran toward the door; but, when he got near it, he paused, and a dire misgiving quelled him. A workman soon recognizes a workman'shand; and he saw Hillsborough cunning and skill in this feat, andHillsborough cunning and cruelty lurking in ambush at the door. 

He went back to his forge, and, the truth must be told, his knees feltweak under him with fears of what was to come. 

He searched about for weapons, and could find nothing to protect himagainst numbers. Pistols he had: but, from a wretched over-security, hehad never brought them to Cairnhope Church. 

Oh, it was an era of agony that minute, in which, after avoiding theambuscade that he felt sure awaited him at the door, he had nothing onearth he could do but wait and see what was to come next. 

He knew that however small his chance of escape by fighting, it was hisonly one; and he resolved to receive the attack where he was. He blewhis bellows and, cold at heart, affected to forge. 

Dusky forms stole into the old church. 

CHAPTER XV. 

Little blew his coals to a white heat: then took his hammer into hisleft hand, and his little iron shovel, a weapon about two feet long, into his right. 

Three assailants crept toward him, and his position was such that two atleast could assail him front and rear. He counted on that, and measuredtheir approach with pale cheek but glittering eye, and thrust his shoveldeep into the white coals. 

They crept nearer and nearer, and, at last, made an almost simultaneousrush on him back and front. 

The man in the rear was a shade in advance of the other. Little, whosewhole soul was in arms, had calculated on this, and turning as they cameat him, sent a shovelful of fiery coals into that nearest assailant'sface, then stepped swiftly out of the way of the other, who struck athim too immediately for him to parry; ere he could recover the wastedblow, Little's hot shovel came down in his head with tremendous force, and laid him senseless and bleeding on the hearth, with blood runningfrom his ears. 

Little ladled the coals right and left on the other two assailants, oneof whom was already yelling with the pain of the first shovelful; then, vaulting suddenly over a pew, he ran for the door. 

There he was encountered by Sam Cole, an accomplished cudgel-player, who parried his blows coolly, and gave him a severe rap on the head thatdazzled him. But he fought on, till he heard footsteps coming behindhim, and then rage and despair seized him, he drew back, shifted hishammer into his right hand and hurled it with all his force at Cole'sbreast, for he feared to miss his head. Had it struck him on the breast, delivered as it was, it would probably have smashed his breastbone, andkilled him; but it struck him on his throat, which was, in some degree, protected by a muffler: it struck him and sent him flying like afeather: he fell on his back in the porch, yards from where he receivedthat prodigious blow. 

Henry was bounding out after him, when he was seized from behind, andthe next moment another seized him too, and his right hand was nowdisarmed by throwing away the hammer. 

He struggled furiously with them, and twice he shook them off, andstruck them with his fist, and jobbed them with his shovel quick andshort, as a horse kicking. 

But one was cunning enough to make a feint at his face, and then felldown and lay hold of his knees: he was about to pulverize this fellowwith one blow of his shovel, when the other flung his arms round him. Itbecame a mere struggle. Such was his fury and his vigor, however, thatthey could not master him. He played his head like a snake, so that theycould not seize him disadvantageously; and at last he dropped his shoveland got them both by the throat, and grasped them so fiercely that theirfaces were purple, and their eyes beginning to fix, when to his dismay, he received a violent blow on the right arm that nearly broke it: helet go, with a cry of pain, and with his left hand twisted the other manround so quickly, that he received the next blow of Cole's cudgel. Thenhe dashed his left fist into Cole's eye, who staggered, but still barredthe way; so Little rushed upon him, and got him by the throat, and wouldsoon have settled him: but the others recovered themselves ere he couldsqueeze all the wind out of Cole, and it became a struggle of three toone. 

He dragged them all three about with him; he kicked, he hit, he didevery thing that a man with one hand, and a lion's heart, could do. 

But gradually they got the better of him; and at last it came to this, that two were struggling on the ground with him, and Cole standing overthem all three, ready to strike. 

"Now, hold him so, while I settle him, " cried Cole, and raised hismurderous cudgel. 

It came down on Little's shoulder, and only just missed his head. 

Again it came down, and with terrible force. 

Up to this time he had fought as mute as a fox. But now that it hadcome to mere butchery, he cried out, in his agony, "They'll kill me. Mymother! Help! Murder! Help!"

"Ay! thou'lt never forge no more!" roared Cole, and thwack came down thecrushing bludgeon. 

"Help! Murder! Help!" screamed the victim, more faintly; and at the nextblow more faintly still. 

But again the murderous cudgel was lifted high, to descend upon hisyoung head. 

As the confederates held the now breathless and despairing victim toreceive the blow, and the butcher, with one eye closed by Henry's fist, but the other gleaming savagely, raised the cudgel to finish him, Henry saw a huge tongue of flame pour out at them all, from outside thechurch, and a report, that sounded like a cannon, was accompanied by thevicious ping of shot. Cole screamed and yelled, and dropped his cudgel, and his face was covered with blood in a moment; he yelled, and coveredhis face with his hands; and instantly came another flash, anotherreport, another cruel ping of shot, and this time his hands were coveredwith blood. 

The others rolled yelling out of the line of fire, and ran up the aislefor their lives. 

Cole, yelling, tried to follow; but Henry, though sick and weak with theblows, caught him, and clung to his knees, and the next moment the placewas filled with men carrying torches and gleaming swords, and led by agentleman, who stood over Henry, in evening dress, but with the haughtyexpanded nostrils, the brilliant black eyes, and all the features ofthat knight in rusty armor who had come to him in his dream and left himwith scorn. 

At this moment a crash was heard: two of the culprits, with desperateagility, had leaped on to the vestry chest, and from that on to thehorse, and from him headlong out of the window. 

Mr. Raby dispatched all his men but one in pursuit, with this brieforder--"Take them, alive or dead--doesn't matter which--they are onlycutlers; and cowards. "

His next word was to Cole. "What, three blackguards to one!--that's howHillsborough fights, eh?"

"I'm not a blackguard, " said Henry, faintly. 

"That remains to be proved, sir, " said Raby, grimly. 

Henry made answer by fainting away. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

When Henry Little came to himself, he was seated on men's hands, andbeing carried through the keen refreshing air. Mr. Raby was striding onin front; the horse's hoofs were clamping along on the hard road behind;and he himself was surrounded by swordsmen in fantastic dresses. 

He opened his eyes, and thought, of course, it was another vision. But no, the man, with whose blows his body was sore, and his rightarm utterly numbed, walked close to him between two sword-dancers withRaby-marks and Little-marks upon him, viz. , a face spotted with blood, and a black eye. 

Little sighed. 

"Eh, that's music to me, " said a friendly voice close to him. It wasthe King George of the lyrical drama, and, out of poetry, George theblacksmith. 

"What, it is you, is it?" said Little. 

"Ay, sir, and a joyful man to hear you speak again. The cowardlyvarmint! And to think they have all got clear but this one! Are ye sorehurt, sir?"

"I'm in awful pain, but no bones broken. " Then, in a whisper--"Where areyou taking me, George?"

"To Raby Hall, " was the whispered reply. 

"Not for all the world! if you are my friend, put me down, and let meslip away. "

"Don't ask me, don't ask me, " said George, in great distress. "How couldI look Squire in the face? He did put you in my charge. "

"Then I'm a prisoner!" said Henry, sternly. 

George hung his head, but made no reply. 

Henry also maintained a sullen silence after that. 

The lights of Raby came in sight. 

That house contained two women, who awaited the result of the nocturnalexpedition with terrible anxiety. 

Its fate, they both felt, had been determined before they even knew thatthe expedition had started. 

They had nothing to do but to wait, and pray that Henry had made hisescape, or else had not been so mad as to attempt resistance. 

In this view of things, the number and even the arms of his assailantswere some comfort to them, as rendering resistance impossible. 

As for Mr. Coventry, he was secretly delighted. His conscience wasrelieved. Raby would now drive his rival out of the church and out ofthe country without the help of the Trades, and his act of treachery andbad faith would be harmless. Things had taken the happiest possible turnfor him. 

For all that, this courtier affected sympathy, and even some anxiety, toplease Miss Carden, and divert all suspicion from himself. But the truering was wanting to his words, and both the women felt them jar, and gotaway from him, and laid their heads together, in agitated whispers. Andthe result was, they put shawls over their heads, and went together outinto the night. 

They ran up the road, sighing and clasping their hands, but no longerspeaking. 

At the first turn they saw the whole body coming toward them. 

"I'll soon know, " said Jael, struggling with her agitation. "Don'tyou be seen, miss; that might anger the Squire; and, oh, he will be awrathful man this night, if he caught him working in yonder church. "

Grace then slipped back, and Jael ran on. But no sooner did she comeup with the party, than Raby ordered her back, in a tone she dared notresist. 

She ran back, and told Grace they were carrying him in, hurt, and theSquire's eyes were like hot coals. 

Grace slipped into the drawing-room and kept the door ajar. 

Soon afterward, Raby, his men, and his prisoners, entered the hall, andGrace heard Raby say, "Bring the prisoners into the dining-room. "

Grace Carden sat down, and leaned her head upon her hand, and her littlefoot beat the ground, all in a flutter. 

But this ended in a spirited resolve. She rose, pale, but firm, and said, "Come with me, Jael;" and she walked straight into thedining-room. Coventry strolled in after her. 

The room was still brilliantly lighted. Mr. Raby was seated at hiswriting-table at the far end, and the prisoners, well guarded, stoodready to be examined. 

"You can't come in here, " was Mr. Raby's first word to Grace. 

But she was prepared for this, and stood her ground. "Excuse me, dearuncle, but I wish to see you administer justice; and, besides, I believeI can tell you something about one of the prisoners. "

"Indeed! that alters the case. Somebody give Miss Carden a chair. "

She sat down, and fixed her eyes upon Henry Little--eyes that saidplainly, "I shall defend you, if necessary:" his pale cheek was flushingat sight of her. 

Mr. Raby arranged his papers to make notes, and turned to Cole. "Thecharge against you is, that you were seen this night by several personsengaged in an assault of a cruel and aggravated character. You, and twoother men, attacked and overpowered an individual here present; and, while he was helpless, and on the ground, you were seen to raise a heavycudgel (Got the cudgel, George?)--"

"Ay, your worship, here 'tis. "

"--And to strike him several times on the head and limbs, with all yourforce. "

"Oh, cruel! cruel!"

"This won't do, Miss Carden; no observations, please. In consequenceof which blows he soon after swooned away, and was for some timeunconscious, and--"

"Oh!"

"--For aught I know, may have received some permanent injury. "

"Not he, " said Cole; "he's all right. I'm the only man that is hurt; andI've got it hot; he hit me with his hammer, and knocked me down like abullock. He's given me this black eye too. "

"In self-defense, apparently. Which party attacked the other first?"

"Why they attacked me, of course, " said Henry. "Four of them. "

"Four! I saw but three. "

"Oh, I settled one at starting, up near the forge. Didn't you find him?"(This to George. )

"Nay, we found none of the trash but this, " indicating Cole, with acontemptuous jerk of the thumb. 

"Now, don't all speak at once, " said Mr. Raby. "My advice to you is tosay nothing, or you'll probably make bad worse. But if you choose to sayanything, I'm bound to hear it. "

"Well, sir, " said Cole, in a carrying voice, "what I say is this: whatneed we go to law over this? If you go against me for hitting him witha stick, after he had hit me with a blacksmith's hammer, I shall have togo against you for shooting me with a gun. "

"That is between you and me, sir. You will find a bystander may shoota malefactor to save the life of a citizen. Confine your defense, atpresent, to the point at issue. Have you any excuse, as against thisyoung man?" (To Henry. )--"You look pale. You can sit down till your turncomes. "

"Not in this house. "

"And why not in this house, pray? Is your own house a better?"

No answer from Henry. A look of amazement and alarm from Grace. But shewas afraid to utter a word, after the admonition she had received. 

"Well, sir, " said Cole, "he was desecrating a church. "

"So he was, and I shall talk to him in his turn. But you desecratedit worse. He turned it into a blacksmith shop; you turned it intoa shambles. I shall commit you. You will be taken to Hillsboroughto-morrow; to-night you will remain in my strong-room. Fling him downa mattress and some blankets, and give him plenty to eat and drink; Iwouldn't starve the devil on old Christmas Eve. There, take him away. Stop; search his pockets before you leave him alone. "

Cole was taken away, and Henry's turn came. 

Just before this examination commenced, Grace clasped her hands, andcast a deprecating look on Henry, as much as to say, "Be moderate. " Andthen her eyes roved to and fro, and the whole woman was in arms, and onthe watch. 

Mr. Raby began on him. "As for you, your offense is not so criminal inthe eye of the law; but it is bad enough; you have broken into a churchby unlawful means; you have turned it into a smithy, defiled the gravesof the dead, and turned the tomb of a good knight into an oven, to thescandal of men and the dishonor of god. Have you any excuse to offer?"

"Plenty. I was plying an honest trade, in a country where freedom isthe law. The Hillsborough Unions combined against me, and restrained myfreedom, and threatened my life, ay, and attempted my life too, beforeto-day: and so the injustice and cruelty of men drove me to a sanctuary, me and my livelihood. Blame the Trades, blame the public laws, blame theuseless police: but you can't blame me; a man must live. "

"Why not set up your shop in the village? Why wantonly desecrate achurch?"

"The church was more secret, and more safe: and nobody worships in it. The wind and the weather are allowed to destroy it; you care so littlefor it you let it molder; then why howl if a fellow uses it and keeps itwarm?"

At this sally there was a broad rustic laugh, which, however, Mr. Rabyquelled with one glance of his eye. 

"Come, don't be impertinent, " said he to Little. 

"Then don't you provoke a fellow, " cried Henry, raising his voice. 

Grace clasped her hands in dismay. 

Jael Dence said, in her gravest and most mellow voice, "You do forgetthe good Squire saved your life this very night. "

This was like oil on all the waters. 

"Well, certainly I oughtn't to forget that, " said Henry, apologetically. Then he appealed piteously to Jael, whose power over him struck everybody directly, including Grace Carden. "Look here, you mustn't think, because I don't keep howling, I'm all right. My arm is disabled: my backis almost broken: my thigh is cut. I'm in sharp pain, all this time: andthat makes a fellow impatient of being lectured on the back of it all. Why doesn't he let me go? I don't want to affront him now. All I want isto go and get nursed a bit somewhere. "

"Now that is the first word of reason and common sense you have uttered, young man. It decides me not to detain you. All I shall do, under thecircumstances, is to clear your rubbish out of that holy building, and watch it by night as well as day. Your property, however, shall becollected, and delivered to you uninjured: so oblige me with your nameand address. "

Henry made no reply. 

Raby turned his eye full upon him. 

"Surely you do not object to tell me your name. "

"I do. "

"Why?"

"Excuse me. "

"What are you afraid of? Do you doubt my word, when I tell you I shallnot proceed against you?"

"No: it is not that at all. But this is no place for me to utter myfather's name. We all have our secrets, sir. You have got yours. There'sa picture, with its face to the wall. Suppose I was to ask you to tellall the world whose face it is you insult and hide from the world?"

Raby turned red with wrath and surprise, at this sudden thrust. "Youinsolent young scoundrel!" he cried. "What is that to you, and whatconnection can there be between that portrait and a man in your way oflife?"

"There's a close connection, " said Henry, trembling with anger, in histurn: "and the proof is that, when that picture is turned to the light, I'll tell you my name: and, till that picture is turned to the light, I'll not tell you my name; and if any body here knows my name, and tellsit you, may that person's tongue be blistered at the root!"

"Oh, how fearful!" cried Grace, turning very pale. "But I'll put an endto it all. I've got the key, and I've his permission, and I'll--oh, Mr. Raby, there's something more in this than we know. " She darted to thepicture, and unlocked the padlock, and, with Jael's assistance, began toturn the picture. Then Mr. Raby rose and seemed to bend his mind inward, but he neither forbade, nor encouraged, this impulsive act of GraceCarden's. 

Now there was not a man nor a woman in the room whose curiosity had notbeen more or less excited about this picture; so there was a generalmovement toward it, of all but Mr. Raby, who stood quite still, turninghis eye inward, and evidently much moved, though passive. 

There happened to be a strong light upon the picture, and the lovelyolive face, the vivid features, and glorious black eyes and eyebrows, seemed to flash out of the canvas into life. 

Even the living faces, being blondes, paled before it, in the oneparticular of color. They seemed fair glittering moons, and this aglowing sun. 

Grace's first feelings were those of simple surprise and admiration. But, as she gazed, Henry's words returned to her, and all manner ofideas struck her pell-mell. "Oh, beautiful! beautiful!" she cried. Then, turning to Henry, "You are right; it was not a face to hide from theworld--oh! the likeness! just look at HIM, and then at her! can I bemistaken?"

This appeal was made to the company, and roused curiosity to a highpitch; every eye began to compare the dark-skinned beauty on the wallwith the swarthy young man, who now stood there, and submitted inhaughty silence to the comparison. 

The words caught Mr. Raby's attention. He made a start, and elbowingthem all out of his way, strode up to the picture. 

"What do you say, Miss Carden? What likeness can there be betweenmy sister and a smith?" and he turned and frowned haughtily on HenryLittle. 

Henry returned his look of defiance directly. 

But that very exchange of defiance brought out another likeness, whichGrace's quick eye seized directly. 

"Why, he is still liker you, " she cried. "Look, good people! Look atall three. Look at their great black eyes, and their brown hair. Lookat their dark skins, and their haughty noses. Oh, you needn't blowyour nostrils out at me, gentlemen; I am not a bit afraid of either ofyou. --And then look at this lovely creature. She is a Raby too, onlysoftened down by her sweet womanliness. Look at them all three, if theyare not one flesh and blood, I have no eyes. "

"Oh yes, miss; and this lady is his mother. For I have SEEN her; and sheis a sweet lady; and she told me I had a Cairnhope face, and kissed mefor it. "

Upon this from Jael, the general conviction rose into a hum that buzzedround the room. 

Mr. Raby was struck with amazement. At last he turned slowly upon Henry, and said, with stiff politeness, "Is your name Little, sir?"

"Little is my name, and I'm proud of it. "

"Your name may be Little, but your face is Raby. All the better for you, sir. "

He then turned his back to the young man, and walked right in front ofthe picture, and looked at it steadily and sadly. 

It was a simple and natural action, yet somehow done in so imposing away, that the bystanders held their breath, to see what would follow. 

He gazed long and steadily on the picture, and his features workedvisibly. 

"Ay!" he said. "Nature makes no such faces nowadays. Poor unfortunategirl!" And his voice faltered a moment. 

He then began to utter, in a low grave voice, some things that tookevery body by surprise, by the manner as well as the matter; for, withhis never once taking his eyes off the picture, and speaking in a voicesoftened by the sudden presence of that womanly beauty, the companion ofhis youth, it was just like a man speaking softly in a dream. 

"Thomas, this picture will remain as it is while I live. "

"Yes, sir. "

"I find I can bear the sight of you. As we get older we get tougher. You look as if you didn't want me to quarrel with your son? Well, I willnot: there has been quarreling enough. Any of the loyal Dences here?"But he never even turned his head from the picture to look for them. 

"Only me, sir; Jael Dence, at your service. Father's not very well. "

"Nathan, or Jael, it is all one, so that it is Dence. You'll take thatyoung gentleman home with you, and send him to bed. He'll want nursing:for he got some ugly blows, and took them like a gentleman. The younggentleman has a fancy for forging things--the Lord knows what. Heshall not forge things in a church, and defile the tombs of his ownforefathers; but" (with a groan) "he can forge in your yard. All thesnobs in Hillsborough sha'n't hinder him, if that is his cursed hobby. Gentlemen are not to be dictated to by snobs. Arm three men every nightwith guns; load the guns with ball, not small shot, as I did; and ifthose ruffians molest him again, kill them, and then come to me andcomplain of them. But, mind you kill them first--complain afterward. Andnow take half-a-dozen of these men with you, to carry him to the farm, if he needs it. THERE, EDITH!"

And still he never moved his eyes from the picture, and the words seemedto drop out of him. 

Henry stood bewildered, and, ere he could say anything that might revivethe dormant irritation of Mr. Raby against him, female tact interposed. Grace clasped her hands to him, with tears in her eyes; and as for JaelDence, she assumed the authority with which she had been invested andhurried him bodily away; and the sword-dancers all gathered round him, and they carried him in triumphant procession, with the fiddler playing, and George whistling, the favorite tune of "Raby come home again, " whileevery sturdy foot beat the hard and ringing road in admirable keepingwith that spirit-stirring march. 

When he was gone, Grace crept up to Mr. Raby, who still stood before thepicture, and eyed it and thought of his youth. She took his arm wondroussoftly with her two hands, rested her sweet head against his shoulder, and gazed at it along with him. 

When she had nestled to him some time in this delicate attitude, sheturned her eyes up to him, and murmured, "how good, how noble you are:and how I love you. " Then, all in a moment, she curled round his neck, and kissed him with a tender violence, that took him quite by surprise. 

As for Mr. Coventry, he had been reduced to a nullity, and escapedattention all this time: he sat in gloomy silence, and watched withchilled and foreboding heart the strange turn events had taken, and weretaking; events which he, and no other man, had set rolling. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Frederick Coventry, being still unacquainted with the contents ofGrace's letter, was now almost desperate. Grace Carden, inaccessibleto an unknown workman, would she be inaccessible to a workman whom Mr. Raby, proud as he was, had publicly recognized as his nephew? This wasnot to be expected. But something was to be expected, viz. , that in afew days the door would be closed with scorn in the face of FrederickCoventry, the miserable traitor, who had broken his solemn pledge, and betrayed his benefactor to those who had all but assassinated him. Little would be sure to suspect him, and the prisoner, when he came tobe examined, would furnish some clew. 

A cold perspiration bedewed his very back, when he recollected that thechief constable would be present at Cole's examination, and supply thelink, even if there should be one missing. He had serious thoughts ofleaving the country at once. 

Finding himself unobserved, he walked out of the room, and paced up anddown the hall. 

His thoughts now took a practical form. He must bribe the prisoner tohold his tongue. 

But how? and when? and where?

After to-night there might be no opportunity of saying a word to him. 

While he was debating this in his mind, Knight the butler crossed thehall. 

Coventry stopped him, and asked where the prisoner was. 

"Where Squire told us to put him, sir. "

"No chance of his escaping--I hope?"

"Not he, sir. 

"I should like to take a look at him. "

Knight demurred. "Well, sir, you see the orders are--but, of course, master won't mind you. I'll speak to him. "

"No, it is not worth while. I am only anxious the villain should besecure. " This of course was a feeler. 

"Oh, there's no fear of that. Why, he is in the strong room. It's rightabove yours. If you'll come with me, sir, I'll show you the door. "Coventry accompanied him, and Thomas Knight showed him a strong doorwith two enormous bolts outside, both shot. 

Coventry felt despair, and affected satisfaction. 

Then, after a pause, he said, "But is the window equally secure?"

"Two iron bars almost as thick as these bolts: and, if it stood open, what could he do but break his neck, and cheat the gallows? He is allright, sir; never you fear. We sarched him from head to foot, and foundno eend o' tools in his pockets. He is a deep 'un. But we are Yorkshiretoo, as the saying is. He goes to Hillsbro' town-hall to-morrow; andglad to be shut on him. "

Coventry complimented him, and agreed with him that escape wasimpossible. 

He then got a light, and went to his own bedroom, and sat down, cold atheart, before the fire. 

He sat in that state, till two o'clock in the morning, distracting hisbrain with schemes, that were invented only to be dismissed as idle. 

At last an idea came to him. He took his fishing-rod, and put thethinner joints together, and laid them on the bed. He then opened hiswindow very cautiously. But as that made some noise, he remained quitequiet for full ten minutes. Then he got upon the window-seat, and passedthe fishing rod out. After one or two attempts he struck the windowabove, with the fine end. 

Instantly he heard a movement above, and a window cautiously opened. 

He gave a low "Hem!"

"Who's that?" whispered the prisoner, from above. 

"A man who wants you to escape. "

"Nay; but I have no tools. "

"What do you require?"

"I think I could do summut with a screw-driver. "

"I'll send you one up. "

The next minute a couple of small screw-drivers were passed up--part ofthe furniture of his gun. 

Cole worked hard, but silently, for about an hour, and then he whispereddown that he should be able to get a bar out. But how high was it fromthe ground?

"About forty feet. "

Coventry heard the man actually groan at the intelligence. 

"Let yourself down on my window-sill. I can find you rope enough forthat. "

"What, d'ye take me for a bird, that can light of a gate?"

"But the sill is solid stone, and full a foot wide. "

"Say ye so, lad? Then luck is o' my side. Send up rope. "

The rope was sent up, and presently was fast to something above anddangled down a little past the window-sill. 

"Put out a light on sill, " whispered the voice above. 

"I will. "

Then there was a long silence, during which Coventry's blood ran cold. 

As nothing further occurred, he whispered, "What is the matter?"

"My stomach fails me. Send me up a drop of brandy, will ye? Eh, man, butthis is queer work. "

"I can't get it up to you; you must drink it here. Come, think! It willbe five years' penal servitude if you don't. "

"Is the rope long enough?"

"Plenty for that. "

Then there was another awful silence. 

By-and-by a man's legs came dangling down, and Cole landed on the sill, still holding tight by the rope. He swung down on the sill, and slidinto the room, perspiring and white with fear. 

Coventry gave him some brandy directly, --Cole's trembling hand sent itflying down his throat, and the two men stared at each ether. 

"Why, it is a gentleman!"

"Yes. "

"And do you really mean to see me clear?"

"Drink a little more brandy, and recover yourself, and then I'll tellyou. "

When the man was fortified and ready for fresh exertions, Coventry toldhim he must try and slip out of the house at the front door: he wouldlend him a feather and some oil to apply to the bolts if necessary. 

When the plan of operation was settled, Coventry asked him how long itwould take him to get to Hillsborough. 

"I can run it in two hours. "

"Then if I give the alarm in an hour and a half, it won't hurt. "

"Give me that start and you may send bloodhounds on my heels, they'llnever catch me. "

"Now take off your shoes. "

While he was taking them off, Cole eyed his unexpected friend verykeenly, and took stock of all his features. 

When he was ready, Coventry opened his door very carefully, and placed alight so as to be of some use to the fugitive. Cole descended the stairslike a cat, and soon found the heavy bolts and drew them; then slippedout into the night, and away, with fleet foot and wondering heart, toHillsborough. 

Coventry put out his light and slipped into bed. 

About four o'clock in the morning the whole house was alarmed with loudcries, followed by two pistol-shots: and all those who ran out of theirbedrooms at all promptly, found Coventry in his nightgown and trowsers, with a smoking pistol in his hand, which he said he had discharged at arobber. The account he gave was, that he had been suddenly awakened byhearing his door shut, and found his window open; had slipped on histrowsers, got to his pistols, and run out just in time to see a manopening the great front door: had fired twice at him, and thought hemust have hit him the second time. 

On examining the window the rope was found dangling. 

Instantly there was a rush to the strong-room. 

The bird was flown. 

"Ah!" said Coventry. "I felt there ought to be some one with him, but Ididn't like to interfere. "

George the groom and another were mounted on swift horses, and took theroad to Hillsborough. 

But Cole, with his start of a hundred minutes, was safe in a back slumbefore they got half way. 

What puzzled the servants most was how Cole could have unscrewed thebar, and where he could have obtained the cord. And while they weretwisting this matter every way in hot discussion, Coventry quaked, forhe feared his little gunscrews would be discovered. But no, they werenot in the room. 

It was a great mystery; but Raby said they ought to have searched theman's body as well as his pockets. 

He locked the cord up, however, and remarked it was a new one, and hadprobably been bought in Hillsborough. He would try and learn where. 

At breakfast-time a bullet was found in the door. Coventry apologized. 

"Your mistake was missing the man, not hitting the door, " said Raby. "One comfort, I tickled the fellow with small shot. It shall be slugsnext time. All we can do now is to lay the matter before the police. Imust go into Hillsborough, I suppose. "

He went into Hillsborough accordingly, and told the chief constable thewhole story, and deposited the piece of cord with him. He found thatzealous officer already acquainted with the outline of the business, and on his mettle to discover the authors and agents of the outrage, ifpossible. And it occurred to his sagacity that there was at this momenta workman in Hillsborough, who must know many secrets of the Trades, andhad now nothing to gain by concealing them. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Thus the attempt to do Little was more successful than it looks. Itsobject was to keep Little and Simmons apart, and sure enough those twomen never met again in life. 

But, on the other hand, this new crime imbittered two able men againstthe Union, and put Grotait in immediate peril. Mr. Ransome conferredwith Mr. Holdfast and they both visited Simmons, and urged him to make aclean breast before he left the world. 

Simmons hesitated. He said repeatedly, "Gi' me time! gi' me time!"

Grotait heard of these visits, and was greatly alarmed. He set DanTucker and another to watch by turns and report. 

Messrs. Holdfast and Ransome had an ally inside the house. Eliza Watneyhad come in from another town, and had no Hillsborough prejudices. Shewas furious at this new outrage on Little, who had won her regard, and she hoped her brother-in-law would reveal all he knew. Such aconfession, she thought, might remove the stigma from himself to thosebetter-educated persons, who had made a tool of her poor ignorantrelative. 

Accordingly no sooner did the nurse Little had provided inform her, in alow voice, that there was A CHANGE, than she put on her bonnet, and wentin all haste to Mr. Holdfast, and also to the chief constable, as shehad promised them to do. 

But of course she could not go without talking. She met an acquaintancenot far from the door, and told her Ned was near his end, and she wasgoing to tell the gentlemen. 

Dan Tucker stepped up to this woman, and she was as open-mouthed to himas Eliza had been to her. Dan went directly with the news to Grotait. 

Grotait came all in a hurry, but Holdfast was there before him, and wasactually exhorting Simmons to do a good action in his last moments, andreveal those greater culprits who had employed him, when Grotait, ill atease, walked in, sat down at the foot of the bed, and fixed his eye onSimmons. 

Simmons caught sight of him and stared, but said nothing to him. Yet, when Holdfast had done, Simmons was observed to look at Grotait, thoughhe replied to the other. "If you was a Hillsbro' man, you'd know we tellon dead folk, but not on quick. I told on Ned Simmons, because he was asgood as dead; but to tell on Trade, that's different. "

"And I think, my poor fellow, " suggested Grotait, smoothly, "you mightspend your last moments better in telling US what you would wish theTrade to do for your wife, and the child if it lives. "

"Well, I think ye might make the old gal an allowance till she marriesagain. "

"Oh, Ned! Ned!" cried the poor woman. "I'll have no man after thee. " Anda violent burst of grief followed. 

"Thou'll do like the rest, " said the dying man. "Hold thy bellering, andlet me speak, that's got no time to lose. How much will ye allow her, old lad?"

"Six shillings a week, Ned. "

"And what is to come of young 'un?"

"We'll apprentice him. "

"To my trade?"

"You know better than that, Ned. You are a freeman; but he won't be afreeman's son by our law, thou knowst. But there's plenty of outsidetrades in Hillsbro'. We'll bind him to one of those, and keep an eye onhim, for thy sake. "

"Well, I must take what I can get. "

"And little enough too, " said Eliza Watney. "Now do you know that theyhave set upon Mr. Little and beaten him within an inch of his life? Oh, Ned, you can't approve that, and him our best friend. "

"Who says I approve it, thou fool?"

"Then tell the gentleman who the villain was; for I believe you know. "

"I'll tell 'em summut about it. "

Grotait turned pale; but still kept his glittering eye fixed on the sickman. 

"The job was offered to me; but I wouldn't be in it. I know that much. Says I, 'He has had his squeak. '"

"Who offered you the job?" asked Mr. Holdfast. And at this momentRansome came in. 

"What, another black coat!" said Simmons. "----, if you are not like somany crows over a dead horse. " He then began to wander, and Holdfast'squestion remained unanswered. 

This aberration continued so long, and accompanied with suchinterruptions of the breathing, that both Holdfast and Ransome despairedof ever hearing another rational word from the man's lips. 

They lingered on, however, and still Grotait sat at the foot of the bed, with his glittering eye fixed on the dying man. 

Presently Simmons became silent, and reflected. 

"Who offered me the job to do Little?" said he, in a clear rationalvoice. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Holdfast. "And who paid you to blow up the forge?"Simmons made no reply. His fast fleeting powers appeared unable now tohold an idea for above a second or two. 

Yet, after another short interval, he seemed to go back a second time tothe subject as intelligibly as ever. 

"Master Editor!" said he, with a sort of start. 

"Yes. " And Holdfast stepped close to his bedside. 

"Can you keep a secret?"

Grotait started up. 

"Yes!" said Holdfast, eagerly. 

"THEN SO CAN I. "

These were the last words of Ned Simmons. He died, false to himself, buttrue to his fellows, and faithful to a terrible confederacy, which, inEngland and the nineteenth century, was Venice and the middle ages overagain. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Mr. Coventry, relieved of a great and immediate anxiety, could now turnhis whole attention to Grace Carden; and she puzzled him. He expected tosee her come down beaming with satisfaction at the great event of lastnight. Instead of that she appeared late, with cheeks rather pale, andsigns of trouble under her fair eyes. 

As the day wore on, she showed positive distress of mind, irritable anddejected by turns, and quite unable to settle to anything. 

Mr. Coventry, with all his skill, was quite at fault. He couldunderstand her being in anxiety for news about Little; but why notrelieve her anxiety by sending a servant to inquire? Above all, why thisirritation? this positive suffering?

A mystery to him, there is no reason why it should be one to my readers. Grace Carden, for the first time in her life, was in the clutches of afiend, a torturing fiend, called jealousy. 

The thought that another woman was nursing Henry Little all this timedistracted her. It would have been such heaven to her to tend him, afterthose cruel men had hurt him so; but that pure joy was given to another, and that other loved him, and could now indulge and show her love. Showit? Why, she had herself opened his eyes to Jael's love, and advised himto reward it. 

And now she could do nothing to defend herself. The very improvement inHenry's circumstances held her back. She could not write to him and say, "Now I know you are Mr. Raby's nephew, that makes all the difference. "That would only give him fresh offense, and misrepresent herself; forin truth she had repented her letter long before the relationship wasdiscovered. 

No; all she could do was to wait till Jael Dence came up, and thencharge her with some subtle message, that might make Henry Little pauseif he still loved her. 

She detected Coventry watching her. She fled directly to her own room, and there sat on thorns, waiting for her rival to come and give her anopportunity. 

But afternoon came, and no Jael; evening came, and no Jael. 

"Ah!" thought Grace, bitterly, "she is better employed than to comenear me. She is not a self-sacrificing fool like me. When I had theadvantage, I gave it up; now she has got it, she uses it without mercy, decency, or gratitude. And that is the way to love. Oh! if my turn couldbut come again. But it never will. "

Having arrived at this conclusion, she lay on the couch in her own room, and was thoroughly miserable. 

She came down to dinner, and managed to take a share in theconversation, but was very languid; and Coventry detected that she hadbeen crying. 

After dinner, Knight brought in a verbal message from Jael to Mr. Raby, to the effect that the young gentleman was stiff and sore, and she hadsent into Hillsborough for Dr. Amboyne. 

"Quite right of her, " said the squire. "You needn't look so alarmed, Grace; there are no bones broken; and he is in capital hands: hecouldn't have a tenderer nurse than that great strapping lass, nor abetter doctor than my friend and maniac, Amboyne. "

Next morning, soon after breakfast, Raby addressed his guests asfollows:--"I was obliged to go into Hillsborough yesterday, and postponethe purification of that sacred building. But I set a watch on it; andthis day I devote to a pious purpose; I'm going to un-Little the churchof my forefathers; and you can come with me, if you choose. " Thisinvitation, however, was given in a tone so gloomy, and so littlecordial, that Coventry, courtier-like, said in reply, he felt it wouldbe a painful sight to his host, and the fewer witnesses the better. Rabynodded assent, and seemed pleased. Not so Miss Carden. She said: "Ifthat is your feeling, you had better stay at home. I shall go. I havesomething to tell Mr. Raby when we get there; and I'm vain enoughto think it will make him not quite so angry about the poor dear oldchurch. "

"Then come, by all means, " said Raby; "for I'm angry enough at present. "

Before they got half way to the church, they were hailed from behind:and turning round, saw the burly figure of Dr. Amboyne coming afterthem. 

They waited for him, and he came up with them. He had heard the wholebusiness from Little, and was warm in the praises of his patient. 

To a dry inquiry from Raby, whether he approved of his patientdesecrating a church, he said, with delicious coolness, he thought therewas not much harm in that, the church not being used for divine service. 

At this, Raby uttered an inarticulate but savage growl; and Grace, toavert a hot discussion, begged the doctor not to go into that question, but to tell her how Mr. Little was. 

"Oh, he has received some severe contusions, but there is nothingserious. He is in good hands, I assure you. I met him out walking withhis nurse; and I must say I never saw a handsomer couple. He is dark;she is fair. She is like the ancient statues of Venus, massive andgrand, but not clumsy; he is lean and sinewy, as a man ought to be. "

"Oh, doctor, this from you?" said Grace, with undisguised spite. 

"Well, it WAS a concession. He was leaning on her shoulder, and herface and downcast eyes were turned toward him so sweetly--said I tomyself--Hum!"

"What!" said Raby. "Would you marry him to a farmer's daughter?"

"No; I'd let him marry whom he likes; only, having seen him and hisnurse together, it struck me that, between two such fine creatures ofthe same age, the tender relation of patient and nurse, sanctioned, as Ihear it is, by a benevolent uncle--"

"Confound your impudence!"

"--Would hardly stop there. What do you think, Miss Carden?"

"I'll tell you, if you will promise, on your honor, never to repeat whatI say. " And she slackened her pace, and lingered behind Mr. Raby. 

He promised her. 

"Then, " she whispered in his ear, "I HATE YOU!"

And her eyes flashed blue fire at him, and startled him. 

Then she darted forward, and took Mr. Raby's arm, with a scarlet face, and a piteous deprecating glance shot back at the sagacious personageshe had defied. 

Dr. Amboyne proceeded instantly to put himself in this young lady'splace, and so divine what was the matter. The familiar process soonbrought a knowing smile to his sly lip. 

They entered the church, and went straight to the forge. 

Raby stood with folded arms, and contemplated the various acts ofsacrilege with a silent distress that was really touching. 

Amboyne took more interest in the traces of the combat. "Ah!" said he, "this is where he threw the hot coals in their faces--he has told me allabout it. And look at this pool of blood on the floor! Here he felledone of them with his shovel. What is this? traces of blood leading up tothis chest!"

He opened the chest, and found plain proofs inside that the wounded manhad hid himself in it for some time. He pointed this out to Raby; andgave it as his opinion that the man's confederates had come back forhim, and carried him away. "These fellows are very true to one another. I have often admired them for that. "

Raby examined the blood-stained interior of the chest, and could nothelp agreeing with the sagacious doctor. 

"Yes, " said he, sadly; "if we had been sharp, we might have caught theblackguard. But I was in a hurry to leave the scene of sacrilege. Lookhere; the tomb of a good knight defiled into an oven, and the pewsmutilated--and all for the base uses of trade. " And in this strain hecontinued for a long time so eloquently that, at last, he roused GraceCarden's ire. 

"Mr. Raby, " said she, firmly, "please add to those base uses one more. One dismal night, two poor creatures, a man and a woman, lost theirway in the snow; and, after many a hard struggle, the cold and the snowoverpowered them, and death was upon them. But, just at her last gasp, the girl saw a light, and heard the tinkling of a hammer. She totteredtoward it; and it was a church. She just managed to strike the door withher benumbed hands, and then fell insensible. When she came to herself, gentle hands had laid her before two glorious fires in that cold tombthere. Then the same gentle hands gave her food and wine, and wordsof comfort, and did everything for her that brave men do for poor weaksuffering women. Yes, sir, it was my life he saved, and Mr. Coventry'stoo; and I can't bear to hear a word against him, especially while Istand looking at his poor forge, and his grates, that you abuse; butI adore them, and bless them; and so would you, if they had savedyour life, as they did mine. You don't love me one bit; and it is verycruel. "

Raby stood astonished and silent. At last he said, in a very alteredtone, quite mild and deprecating, "Why did you not tell me this before?"

"Because he made us promise not. Would you have had me betray mybenefactor?"

"No. You are a brave girl, an honest girl. I love you more than a bit, and, for your sake, I forgive him the whole thing. I will never callit sacrilege again, since its effect was to save an angel's life. Come, now, you have shown a proper spirit, and stood up for the absent, andbrought me to submission by your impetuosity, so don't spoil it all bycrying. "

"No, I won't, " said Grace, with a gulp. But her tears would not ceaseall in a moment. She had evoked that tender scene, in which words andtears of true and passionate love had rained upon her. They were an erain her life; had swept forever out of her heart all the puny voices thathad prattled what they called love to her; and that divine music, shouldshe ever hear it again? She had resigned it, had bidden it shine uponanother. For this, in reality, her tears were trickling. 

Mr. Raby took a much lighter view of it, and, to divert attention fromher, he said, "Hallo! why this inscription has become legible. It usedto be only legible in parts. Is that his doing?"

"Not a doubt of it, " said Amboyne. 

"Set that against his sacrilege. "

"Miss Carden and I are both agreed it was not sacrilege. What is here inthis pew? A brass! Why this is the brass we could none of us decipher. Hang me, if he has not read it, and restored it!"

"So he has. And where's the wonder? We live in a glorious age" (Rabysmiled) "that has read the written mountains of the East, and theAbyssinian monuments: and he is a man of the age, and your mediaevalbrasses are no more to him than cuneiform letters to Rawlinson. Let meread this resuscitated record. 'Edith Little, daughter of Robert Raby, by Leah Dence his wife:' why here's a hodge-podge! What! have the nobleRabys intermarried with the humble Dences?"

"So it seems. A younger son. "

"And a Raby, daughter of Dence, married a Little three hundred yearsago?"

"So it seems. "

"Then what a pity this brass was not deciphered thirty years ago! Butnever mind that. All I demand is tardy justice to my protege. Isnot this a remarkable man? By day he carves wood, and carries out aphilanthropic scheme (which I mean to communicate to you this very day, together with this young man's report); at night he forges tools thatall Hillsborough can't rival; in an interval of his work he saves avaluable life or two; in another odd moment he fights like a lion, oneto four; even in his moments of downright leisure, when he is neithersaving life nor taking it, he practices honorable arts, restores thefading letters of a charitable bequest, and deciphers brasses, andvastly improves his uncle's genealogical knowledge, who, nevertheless, passed for an authority, till my Crichton stepped upon the scene. "

Raby bore all this admirably. "You may add, " said he, "that henevertheless finds time to correspond with his friends. Here is aletter, addressed to Miss Carden, I declare!"

"A letter to me!" said Grace, faintly. 

Raby handed it over the pew to her, and turned the address, so that shecould judge for herself. 

She took it very slowly and feebly, and her color came and went. 

"You seemed surprised; and so am I. It must have been written two daysago. "

"Yes. "

"Why, what on earth could he have to say to you?"

"I suppose it is the reply to mine, " stammered Grace. 

Mr. Raby looked amazement, and something more. 

Grace faltered out an explanation. "When he had saved my life, I was sograteful I wanted to make him a return. I believed Jael Dence and he--Ihave so high an opinion of her--I ventured to give him a hint that hemight find happiness there. "

Raby bit his lip. "A most singular interference on the part of a younglady, " said he, stiffly. "You are right, doctor; this age resemblesno other. I suppose you meant it kindly; but I am very sorry you feltcalled upon, at your age, to put any such idea into the young man'shead. "

"So am I, " said poor Grace. "Oh, pray forgive me. I am so unhappy. " Andshe hid her face in her hands. 

"Of course I forgive you, " said Raby. "But, unfortunately, I knewnothing of all this, and went and put him under her charge; and here hehas found a precedent for marrying a Dence--found it on this confoundedbrass! Well, no matter. Life is one long disappointment. What does hesay? Where is the letter gone to? It has vanished. "

"I have got it safe, " said Grace, deprecatingly. 

"Then please let me know what he says. "

"What, read his letter to you?"

"Why not, pray? I'm his uncle. He is my heir-at-law. I agree withAmboyne, he has some fine qualities. It is foolish of me, no doubt, but I am very anxious to know what he says about marrying my tenant'sdaughter. " Then, with amazing dignity, "Can I be mistaken in thinkingI have a right to know who my nephew intends to marry?" And he began toget very red. 

Grace hung her head, and, trembling a little, drew the letter veryslowly out of her bosom. 

It just flashed through her mind how cruel it was to make her read outthe death-warrant of her heart before two men; but she summoned all awoman's fortitude and self-defense, prepared to hide her anguish under amarble demeanor, and quietly opened the letter. 

CHAPTER XX. 

"You advise me to marry one, when I love another; and this, you think, is the way to be happy. It has seldom proved so, and I should despisehappiness if I could only get it in that way. 

"Yours, sadly but devotedly, "H. LITTLE. 

"Will you wait two years?"

Grace, being on her defense, read this letter very slowly, and as ifshe had to decipher it. That gave her time to say, "Yours, et cetera, "instead of "sadly and devotedly. " (Why be needlessly precise?) As forthe postscript, she didn't trouble them with that at all. 

She then hurried the letter into her pocket, that it might not be askedfor, and said, with all the nonchalance she could manage to assume, "Oh, if he loves somebody else!"

"No; that is worse still, " said Mr. Raby. "In his own rank of life, itis ten to one if he finds anything as modest, as good, and as loyal asDence's daughter. It's some factory-girl, I suppose. "

"Let us hope not, " said Grace, demurely; but Amboyne noticed that hercheek was now flushed, and her eyes sparkling like diamonds. 

Soon afterward she strolled apart, and took a wonderful interest in themonuments and things, until she found an opportunity to slip out intothe church-yard. There she took the letter out, and kissed it again andagain, as if she would devour it; and all the way home she was as gay asa lark. Amboyne put himself in her place. 

When they got home, he said to her, "My dear Miss Carden, I have a favorto ask you. I want an hour's conversation with Mr. Raby. Will you be sovery kind as to see that I am not interrupted?"

"Oh yes. No; you must tell me, first, what you are going to talk about. I can't have gentlemen talking nonsense together UNINTERRUPTEDLY. "

"You ladies claim to monopolize nonsense, eh? Well, I am going to talkabout my friend, Mr. Little. Is he nonsense?"

"That depends. What are you going to say about him?"

"Going to advance his interests--and my own hobby. Such is man. "

"Never mind what is man; what is your hobby?"

"Saving idiotic ruffians' lives. "

"Well, that is a hobby. But, if Mr. Little is to profit by it, nevermind; you shall not be interrupted, if I can keep 'les facheux' away. "

Accordingly she got her work, and sat in the hall. Here, as sheexpected, she was soon joined by Mr. Coventry, and he found her in agracious mood, and in excellent spirits. 

After some very pleasant conversation, she told him she was keepingsentinel over Dr. Amboyne and his hobby. 

"What is that?"

"Saving idiotic ruffians' lives. Ha! ha! ha!"

Her merry laugh rang through the hall like a peal of bells. 

Coventry stared, and then gave up trying to understand her and hereternal changes. He just set himself to please her, and he never foundit easier than that afternoon. 

Meantime Dr. Amboyne got Raby alone, and begged leave, in the firstplace, to premise that his (Raby's) nephew was a remarkable man. Toprove it, he related Little's whole battle with the Hillsborough Trades;and then produced a report the young man had handed him that very day. It was actually in his pocket during the fight, mute protest againstthat barbarous act. 

The Report was entitled--"LIFE, LABOR AND CAPITAL IN HILLSBOROUGH, " andwas divided into two parts. 

Part 1 was entitled--"PECULIARITIES OF CUTLERY HURTFUL TO LIFE ANDHEALTH. "

And part 2 was entitled--"The REMEDIES TO THE ABOVE. "

Part 2 was divided thus:--

A. What the masters could do. 

B. What the workmen could do. 

C. What the Legislature could do. 

Part 1 dealt first with the diseases of the grinders; but instead ofquoting it, I ask leave to refer to Chapter VIII. , where the main factslie recorded. 

Having thus curtailed the Report, I print the remainder in an Appendix, for the use of those few readers who can endure useful knowledge inworks of this class. 

Raby read the report without moving a muscle. 

"Well, what do you think of him?" asked Amboyne. 

"I think he is a fool to trouble his head whether these animals live ordie. "

"Oh, that is my folly; not his. At bottom, he cares no more than youdo. "

"Then I retract my observation. "

"As to its being folly, or as to Little being the fool?"

"Whichever you like best. "

"Thank you. Well, but to be serious, this young man is very anxiousto be a master, instead of a man. What do you say? Will you help hisambition, and my sacred hobby?"

"What, plunge you deeper in folly, and him in trade? Not I. I don'tapprove folly, I hate trade. But I tell you what I'll do. If he and hismother can see my conduct in its proper light, and say so, they can cometo Raby, and he can turn gentleman, take the name of Raby, as he has gotthe face, and be my heir. "

"Are you serious, Raby?"

"Perfectly. "

"Then you had better write it, and I'll take it to him. "

"Certainly. " He sat down and wrote as follows:

"SIR, --What has recently occurred appears calculated to soften one ofthose animosities which, between persons allied in blood, are always tobe regretted. I take the opportunity to say, that if your mother, underyour advice, will now reconsider the duties of a trustee, and my conductin that character, and her remarks on that conduct, I think she will dome justice, and honor me once more with her esteem. Should this be theresult, I further hope that she and yourself will come to Raby, and thatyou will change that way of life which you have found so full ofthorns, and prepare yourself to succeed to my name and place. I am, yourobedient servant, "GUY RABY. "

"There read that. "

Amboyne read it, and approved it. Then he gave a sigh, and said, "And sodown goes my poor hobby. "

"Oh, never mind, " said Raby; "you've got one or two left in yourstable. "

Dr. Amboyne went out, and passed through the hall. There he found Mr. Coventry and Miss Carden: the latter asked him, rather keenly, if theconference was over. 

"Yes, and not without a result: I'll read it to you. " He did so, andGrace's cheek was dyed with blushes, and her eyes beamed with joy. 

"Oh, how noble is, and how good you are. Run! Fly!"

"Such movements are undignified, and unsuited to my figure. Shall I rolldown the hill? That would be my quickest way. "

This discussion was cut short by a servant, who came to tell the doctorthat a carriage was ordered for him, and would be round in a minute. Dr. Amboyne drove off, and Miss Carden now avoided Coventry: she retiredto her room. But, it seems, she was on the watch; for, on the doctor'sreturn, she was the person who met him in the hall. 

"Well?" said she, eagerly. 

"Well, would you believe it? he declines. He objects to leave his way oflife, and to wait for dead men's shoes. "

"Oh, Dr. Amboyne! And you were there to advise him!"

"I did not venture to advise him. There was so much to be said on bothsides. " Then he went off to Raby with the note; but, as he went, heheard Grace say, in a low voice, "Ah, you never thought of me. "

Little's note ran thus:

"SIR, --I thank you for your proposal; and as to the first part of it, Iquite agree, and should be glad to see my mother and you friends again. But, as to my way of life, I have chosen my path, and mean to stick toit. I hope soon to be a master, instead of a workman, and I shall tryand behave like a gentleman, so that you may not have to blush for me. Should blush for myself if I were to give up industry and independence, and take to waiting for dead men's shoes; that is a baser occupationthan any trade in Hillsborough, I think. This is not as politely writtenas I could wish; but I am a blunt fellow, and I hope you will excuseit. I am not ungrateful to you for shooting those vermin, nor for youroffer, though I can not accept it. Yours respectfully, "HENRY LITTLE. "

Raby read this, and turned white with rage. 

He locked the letter up along with poor Mrs. Little's letters, andmerely said, "I have only one request to make. Never mention the name ofLittle to me again. "

Dr. Amboyne went home very thoughtful. 

That same day Mr. Carden wrote from London to his daughter informing herhe should be at Hillsborough next day to dinner. She got the letternext morning, and showed it to Mr. Raby. He ordered his carriage afterbreakfast for Hillsborough. 

This was a blow to Grace. She had been hoping all this time a fairopportunity might occur for saying something to young Little. 

She longed to write to him, and set his heart and her own at rest. Buta great shyness and timidity paralyzed her, and she gave up the ideaof writing, and had hitherto been hoping they might meet, and she mightreinstate herself by some one cunning word. And now the end of it allwas, that she was driven away from Raby Hall without doing any thing butwish, and sigh, and resolve, and give up her resolutions with a blush. 

The carriage passed the farm on its way to Hillsborough. This wasGrace's last chance. 

Little was standing at the porch. 

A thrill of delight traversed Grace's bosom. 

It was followed, however, by a keen pang. Jael Dence sat beside him, sewing; and Grace saw, in a moment, she was sewing complacently. Itwas more than Grace could bear. She pulled the check-string, and thecarriage stopped. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Henry Little, at this moment, was in very low spirits. His forge was inthe yard, and a faithful body-guard at his service; but his right armwas in a sling, and so he was brought to a stand-still; and Coventry waswith Grace at the house; and he, like her, was tortured with jealousies;and neither knew what the other suffered. 

But everything vanished in a flood of joy when the carriage stopped andthat enchanting face looked out at him, covered with blushes, that toldhim he could not be indifferent to her. 

"Oh, Mr. Little, are you better?"

"I'm all right. But, you see, I can't work. "

"Ah, poor arm. But why should you work? Why not accept Mr. Raby's offer?How proud you are!"

"Should you have thought any better of me if I had?"

"No. I don't want you altered. It would spoil you. You will come andsee us at Woodbine Villa! Only think how many things we have to talk ofnow. "

"May I?"

"Why, of course. "

"And will you wait two years for me?"

"Two years!" (blushing like a rose. ) "Why, I hope it will not be twodays before you come and see us. "

"Ah, you mock me. "

"No; no. But suppose you should take the advice I gave you in my madletter?"

"There's no fear of that. "

"Are you sure?" (with a glance at Jael. )

"Quite sure. "

"Then--good-by. Please drive on. "

She wouldn't answer his question; but her blushes and her radiantsatisfaction, and her modest but eloquent looks of love, fullycompensated her silence on that head, and the carriage left him standingthere, a figure of rapture. 

Next day Dr. Amboyne rode up to the farm with a long envelope, andwaved it over his head in triumph. It contained a communication from theSecretary of the Philanthropic Society. The committee were much struckwith Mr. Little's report, but feared that no manufacturer would act onhis suggestions. They were willing to advance L500 toward setting Mr. Little himself up as a manufacturer, if he would bind himself to adoptand carry out the improvements suggested in his report. The loan to bearno interest, and the return of the capital to depend upon the success ofthe scheme. Dr. Amboyne for the society, to have the right of inspectingMr. Little's books, if any doubt should arise on that head. An agreementwas inclosed, and this was more full, particular, and stringent in formthan the above, but the purport substantially the same. 

Little could not believe his good fortune at first. But there was nodisbelieving it; the terms were so cold, precise, and business-like. 

"Ah, doctor, " said he, "you have made a man of me; for this is yourdoing, I know. "

"Of course I used my influence. I was stimulated by two spurs, friendship and my hobby. Now shake hands over it, and no fine speeches, but tell me when you can begin. 'My soul's in arms, and eager for thefray. '"

"Begin? Why as soon as I get the money. "

"That will come down directly, if I telegraph that you accept the terms. Call in a witness, and sign the agreement. "

Jael Dence was called in, and the agreement signed and witnessed, andaway went the doctor in high spirits, after making an appointment withHenry in Hillsborough for the next day. 

Henry and Jael Dence talked eagerly over his new prospects. But thoughthey were great friends, there was nothing to excite Grace's jealousy. No sooner was Little proved to be Raby's nephew than Jael Dence, in herhumility, shrank back, and was inwardly ashamed of herself. She becamerespectful as well as kind; called him "the young master" behind hisback, and tried to call him "Sir" to his face, only he would not lether. 

Next day Little went to his mother and told her all. She was deeplyinterested, but bitterly disappointed at Henry's refusal of Raby'soffer. "He will never forgive us now, " she said. "And oh, Henry, if youlove Grace Carden, that was the way to marry her. " This staggered him;but he said he had every reason to hope she would marry him without hissacrificing his independence, and waiting with his hands in his pocketsfor dead men's shoes. 

Then he went to Dr. Amboyne, and there were the five hundred poundswaiting for him; but, never having possessed such a sum before, hebegged the doctor to give him only L100 at a time. To finish for thepresent with this branch of the story, he was lucky enough to make anexcellent bargain, bought the plant and stock of a small master-grinderrecently deceased. He then confined the grinding to saws and razors; andthis enabled him to set up his own forge on the premises, and to employa few file-cutters. It was all he could do at starting. Then camethe important question, What would the Trades say? He was not long insuspense; Grotait called on him, expressed his regret at the attack thathad been made on him, and his satisfaction that now the matter could behappily arranged. "This, " said he, "is the very proposal I was going tomake to you (but you wouldn't hear me), to set up as a small master, andsell your carving-tools to London instead of to Hillsboro'. "

"What! will that make me right with the trade?"

"Pretty near. We protect the workmen from unfair competition, not themasters. However, if you wish to cure the sore altogether, let your ownhands grind the tools, and send them out to be handled by Parkin: he hasgot men on the box; trade is dull. "

"Well, I don't object to that. "

"Then, I say, let by-gones be gone-byes. "

They shook hands over this, and in a very few hours it was known thatMr. Little was right with the trade. 

His early experiences as a philanthropic master were rather curious; butI shall ask leave to relate them in a series of their own, and to dealat present with matters of more common interest. 

He called twice on Grace Carden; but she was out. The third time hefound her at home; but there was a lady with her, talking about the ballMr. And Miss Carden were about to give. It was a subject calculated toexcite volubility, and Henry could not get in a word edgewise. But hereceived some kind glances that made his heart beat. 

The young lady sat there and gabbled; for she felt sure that no topicimported by a male creature could compete in interest with "the ball. "So, at last, Henry rose in despair. But Grace, to whom her own ball hadbeen a bore for the last half hour, went with him to the door; and heseized the opportunity to tell her he was a workmen no longer, but amaster, having workmen under him. 

Grace saw he was jubilant, so she was glad directly, and said so. 

But then she shook her pretty head, and hoped he would not have toregret Mr. Raby's offer. 

"Never, " said he, firmly; "unless I lose you. Now I'm a master, insteadof a man, won't you wait two years for me?"

"No, " said Grace, archly. Then, with a look that sent him to heaven, "Not two, but TWENTY, sooner than you should be unhappy, after all youand I--"

The sentence was never completed. She clapped one hand swiftly beforeher scarlet face, and ran away to hide, and think of what she had done. It was full five minutes before she would bring her face under the eyeof that young gossip in the drawing-room. 

As for Henry, he received the blow full in his heart, and it quitestaggered him. He couldn't believe it at first; but when he realizedit, waves and waves of joy seemed to rise inside him, and he went off insuch a rapture he hardly trod the earth. 

He went home, and kissed his mother, and told her, and she sympathizedwith him perforce, though she was jealous at bottom, poor thing. 

The next day Grace received an unexpected visitor--Jael Dence. 

Grace stared at sight of her, and received her very coldly. 

"Oh, miss, " said Jael, "don't look so at me that love you dearly;" andwith this threw her arms round her neck, and kissed her. 

Grace was moved by this; but felt uncomfortable, and even struggleda little, but in vain. Jael was gentle, but mighty. "It's about yourletter, miss. "

"Then let me go, " cried Grace. "I wish I had never written it. "

"Nay; don't say so. I should never have known how good you are. "

"What a fool I am, you mean. How dare you read my letter? Oh! did heshow it you? That was very cruel, if he did. "

"No, miss, he never showed it me; and I never read it. I call it meanto read another body's letter. But, you know, 'tisn't every womanthinks so: and a poor lass that is very fond of me--and I scold herbitterly--she took the letter out of his pocket, and told me what was init. "

"Very well, then, " said Grace, coldly, "it is right you should also readhis answer. I'll bring it you. "

"Not to-day, miss, if you please. There is no need. I know him: he istoo much of a man to marry one girl when he loves another; and 'tis youhe loves, and I hope you will be happy together. "

A few quiet tears followed these brave words, and Grace looked at heraskant, and began to do her justice. 

"Ah!" said she, with a twinge of jealousy, "you know him better than I. You have answered for him, in his very words. Yet you can't love himas I do. I hope you are not come to ask me to give him up again, for Ican't. " Then she said, with quick defiance, "Take him from me, if youcan. " Then, piteously, "And if you do, you will kill me. "

"Dear heart, I came of no such errand. I came to tell you I know howgenerous you have been to me, and made me your friend till death; and, when a Dence says that, she means it. I have been a little imprudent:but not so very. First word I said to him, in this very house, was, 'Areyou really a workman?' I had the sense to put that question; for, thefirst moment I clapped eyes on him, I saw my danger like. Well, he mighthave answered me true; but you see he didn't. I think I am not so muchto blame. Well, he is the young squire now, and no mate for me; and heloves you, that are of his own sort. That is sure to cure me--aftera while. Simple folk like me aren't used to get their way, like thegentry. It takes a deal of patience to go through the world. If youthink I'll let my heart cling to another woman's sweetheart--nay, butI'd tear it out of my breast first. Yes, I dare say, it will be a yearor two before I can listen to another man's voice without hating him forwooing of me; but time cures all that don't fight against the cure. AndYOU'LL love me a little, miss, now, won't you? You used to do, before Ideserved it half as well as I do to-day. "

"Of course I shall love you, my poor Jael. But what is my love, comparedwith that you are now giving up so nobly?"

"It is not much, " said Jael, frankly; "but 'a little breaks a highfall. ' And I'm one that can only enjoy my own. Better a penny roll witha clear conscience, than my neighbor's loaf. I'd liever take your love, and deserve it, than try to steal his. "

All this time Grace was silently watching her, to see if there was anydeceit, or self-deceit, in all this; and, had there been, it could nothave escaped so keen and jealous an eye. But no, the limpid eye, themodest, sober voice, that trembled now and then, but always recoveredits resolution, repelled doubt or suspicion. 

Grace started to her feet, and said, with great enthusiasm. "I give youthe love and respect you deserve so well; and I thank God for creatingsuch a character now and then--to embellish this vile world. "

Then she flung herself upon Jael, with wonderful abandon and grace, andkissed her so eagerly that she made poor Jael's tears flow very fastindeed. 

She would not let her go back to Cairnhope. 

Henry remembered about the ball, and made up his mind to go and stand inthe road: he might catch a glimpse of her somehow. He told his motherhe should not be home to supper; and to get rid of the time beforethe ball, he went to the theater: thence, at ten o'clock, to "WoodbineVilla, " and soon found himself one of a motley group. Men, women, and children were there to see the company arrive; and as, amongworking-people, the idle and the curious are seldom well-to-do, theywere rather a scurvy lot, and each satin or muslin belle, brave withflowers and sparkling with gems, had to pass through a little avenue ofhuman beings in soiled fustian, dislocated bonnets, rags, and unwashedfaces. 

Henry got away from this class of spectators, and took up his stationright across the road. He leaned against the lamp-post, and watched thedrawing-room windows for Grace. 

The windows were large, and, being French, came down to the balcony. Little saw many a lady's head and white shoulders, but not the one hesought. 

Presently a bedroom window was opened, and a fair face looked out intothe night for a moment. It was Jael Dence. 

She had assisted Miss Carden to dress, and had then, at her request, prepared the room, and decked it with flowers, to receive a few of theyoung lady's more favored friends. This done, she opened the window, andHenry Little saw her. 

Nor was it long before she saw him; for the light of the lamp was fullon him. 

But he was now looking intently in at the drawing-room windows, and witha ghastly expression. 

The fact is, that in the short interval between his seeing Jael andher seeing him, the quadrilles had been succeeded by a waltz, and GraceCarden's head and shoulders were now flitting at intervals, past thewindow in close proximity to the head of her partner. What with hersnowy, glossy shoulders, her lovely face, and her exquisite head andbrow encircled with a coronet of pearls, her beauty seemed half-regal, half-angelic; yet that very beauty, after the first thrill of joy whichthe sudden appearance of a beloved one always causes, was now passingcold iron through her lover's heart. For why? A man's arm was round thesupple waist, a man's hand held that delicate palm, a man's head seemedwedded to that lovely head, so close were the two together. And theencircling arm, the passing hand, the head that came and went, and roseand sank, with her, like twin cherries on a stalk, were the arm, thehand, and the head of Mr. Frederick Coventry. 

Every time those two heads flitted past the window together, theyinflicted a spasm of agony on Henry Little, and, between the spasms, his thoughts were bitter beyond expression. An icy barrier stillbetween them, and none between his rival and her! Coventry could dancevoluptuously with her before all the world; but he could only stand atthe door of that Paradise, and groan and sicken with jealous anguish atthe sight. 

Now and then he looked up, and saw Jael Dence. She was alone. Like him, she was excluded from that brilliant crowd. He and she were born towork; these butterflies on the first floor, to enjoy. 

Their eyes met; he saw soft pity in hers. He cast a mute, but touchingappeal. She nodded, and withdrew from the window. Then he knew thefaithful girl would try and do something or other for him. 

But he never moved from his pillar of torture. Jealous agony is the onetorment men can not fly from; it fascinates, it holds, it maddens. 

Jael came to the drawing-room door just as the waltz ended, and triedto get to Miss Carden; but there were too many ladies and gentlemen, especially about the door. 

At last she caught Grace's eye, but only for a moment; and the younglady was in the very act of going out on the balcony for air, with herpartner. 

She did go out, accompanied by Mr. Coventry, and took two or threeturns. Her cheek was flushed, her eye kindled, and the poor jealouswretch over the way saw it, and ascribed all that to the company of hisrival. 

While she walked to and fro with fawn-like grace, conversing with Mr. Coventry, yet secretly wondering what that strange look Jael had givenher could mean, Henry leaned, sick at heart, against the lamp-post overthe way; and, at last, a groan forced its way out of him. 

Faint as the sound was, Grace's quick ear caught it, and she turned herhead. She saw him directly, and blushed high, and turned pale, all in amoment; for, in that single moment, her swift woman's heart told her whyhe was so ghastly, and why that sigh of distress. 

She stopped short in her walk, and began to quiver from head to foot. 

But, after a few moments of alarm, distress, and perplexity, love andhigh spirit supplied the place of tact, and she did the best and mostcharacteristic thing she could. Just as Mr. Coventry, who had observedher shiver, was asking her if she found it too cold, she drew herself upto her full height, and, turning round, kissed her hand over the balconyto Henry Little with a sort of princely grandeur, and an ardor ofrecognition and esteem that set his heart leaping, and his pale cheekblushing, and made Coventry jealous in his turn. Yes, one eloquentgesture did that in a moment. 

But the brave girl was too sensitive to prolong such a situation: themusic recommenced at that moment, and she seized the opportunity, andretired to the room; she courtesied to Little at the window, and thistime he had the sense to lift his hat to her. 

The moment she entered the room Grace Carden slipped away from Mr. Coventry, and wound her way like a serpent through the crowd, and foundJael Dence at the door. She caught her by the arm, and pinched her. Shewas all trembling. Jael drew her up the stairs a little way. 

"You have seen him out there?"

"Yes; and I--oh!"

"There! there. Think of the folk. Fight it down. "

"I will. Go to him, and say I can't bear it. Him to stand there--whilethose I don't care a pin for--oh, Jael, for pity's sake get him home tohis mother. "

"There, don't you fret. I know what to say. "

Jael went down; borrowed the first shawl she could lay her hand on;hooded herself with it, and was across the road in a moment. 

"You are to go home directly. "

"Who says so?"

"She does. "

"What, does she tell me to go away, and leave her to him?"

"What does that matter? her heart goes with you. "

"No, no. "

"Won't you take my word for it? I'm not given to lying. "

"I know that. Oh, Jael, sweet, pretty, good-hearted Jael, have pity onme, and tell me the truth: is it me she loves, or that Coventry?"

"It is you. "

"Oh, bless you! bless you! Ah, if I could only be sure of that, whatwouldn't I do for her? But, if she loves me, why, why send me away? Itis very cruel that so many should be in the same room with her, and HEshould dance with her, and I must not even look on and catch a glimpseof her now and then. I won't go home. "

"Ah!" said Jael, "you are like all the young men: you think only ofyourself. And you call yourself a scholar of the good doctor's. "

"And so I am. "

"Then why don't you go by his rule, and put yourself in a body's place?Suppose you was in her place, master of this house like, and dancingwith a pack of girls you didn't care for, and SHE stood out here, paleand sighing; and suppose things were so that you couldn't come out toher, nor she come in to you, wouldn't it cut you to the heart to see herstand in the street and look so unhappy--poor lad? Be good, now, andgo home to thy mother. Why stand here and poison the poor young lady'spleasure--such as 'tis--and torment thyself. " Jael's own eyes filled, and that proof of sympathy inclined Henry all the more to listen to herreason. 

"You are wise, and good, and kind, " he said. "But oh, Jael, I adore herso, I'd rather be in hell with her than in heaven without her. Half aloaf is better than no bread. I can't go home and turn my back on theplace where she is. Yes, I'm in torments; but I see. They can't rob myEYES of her. "

"To oblige HER!"

"Yes; I'll do anything to oblige HER. If I could only believe she lovesme. "

"Put it to the proof, if you don't believe me. "

"I will. Tell her I'd much rather stay all night, and catch a glimpse ofher now and then; but yet, tell her I'll go home, if she will promise menot to dance with that Coventry again. "

"There is a condition!" said Jael. 

"It is a fair one, " said Henry, doggedly, "and I won't go from it. "

Jael looked at him, and saw it was no use arguing the matter. So shewent in to the house with his ultimatum. 

She soon returned, and told him that Miss Grace, instead of being angry, as she expected, had smiled and looked pleased, and promised not todance with Mr. Coventry nor any body else any more that night, "if hewould go straight home and consult his beautiful mother. " "Those wereher words, " said the loyal Dence. "She did say them twice over to makesure. "

"God bless her!" cried Henry, warmly; "and bless you too, my bestfriend. I'll go this moment. "

He cast a long, lingering look at the window, and went slowly down thestreet. 

When he got home, his mother was still up and secretly anxious. 

He sat down beside her, and told her where he had been and how it hadall ended. "I'm to consult my beautiful mother, " said he, kissing her. 

"What, does she think I am like my picture now?"

"I suppose so. And you are as beautiful as ever in my eyes, mother. AndI do consult you. "

Mrs. Little's black eyes flashed; but she said, calmly, "What about, dearest?"

"I really don't know. I suppose it was about what happened tonight. Perhaps about it all. "

Mrs. Little leaned her head upon her hand and thought. 

After a moment's reflection, she said to Henry, rather coldly, "If sheis not a very good girl, she must be a very clever one. "

"She is both, " said Henry, warmly. 

"Of that I shall be the best judge, " said Mrs. Little, very coldlyindeed. 

Poor Henry felt quite chilled. He said no more; nor did his motherreturn to the subject till they parted for the night, and then it wasonly to ask him what church Miss Carden went to--a question that seemedto be rather frivolous, but he said he thought St. Margaret's. 

Next Sunday evening, Mrs. Little and he being at tea together, she saidto him quietly--"Well, Harry, I have seen her. "

"Oh mother! where?"

"At St. Margaret's Church. "

"But how did you know her? By her beauty?"

Mrs. Little smiled, and took a roll of paper out of her muff, that layon the sofa. She unfolded it, and displayed a drawing. It representedGrace Carden in her bonnet, and was a very good likeness. 

The lover bounced on it, and devoured it with astonishment and delight. 

"Taken from the bust, and retouched from nature, " said Mrs. Little. "Yes, dear, I went to St. Margaret's, and asked a pew-opener where shesat. I placed myself where I could command her features; and you may besure, I read her very closely. Well, dear, she bears examination. It isa bright face, a handsome face, and a good face; and almost as much inlove as you are. "

"What makes you fancy that? Oh, you spoke to her?"

"Certainly not. But I observed her. Restless and listless by turns--herbody in one place, her mind in another. She was so taken up with her ownthoughts she could not follow the service. I saw the poor girl try veryhard several times, but at last she gave it up in despair. Sometimesshe knitted her brow and a young girl seldom does that unless she isthwarted in her love. And I'll tell you a surer sign still: sometimestears came for no visible reason, and stood in her eyes. She is in love;and it can not be with Mr. Coventry of Bollinghope; for, if she lovedhim, she would have nothing to brood on but her wedding-dress; and theynever knit their brows, nor bedew their eyes, thinking of that; that'sa smiling subject. No, it is true love on both sides, I do believe;and that makes my woman's heart yearn. Harry, dear, I'll make youa confession. You have heard that a mother's love is purer and moreunselfish than any other love: and so it is. But even mothers are notquite angels always. Sometimes they are just a little jealous: not, Ithink, where they are blessed with many children; but you are my onechild, my playmate, my companion, my friend, my only love. That sweetgirl has come, and I must be dethroned. I felt this, and--no, nothingcould ever make me downright thwart your happiness; but a mother'sjealousy made me passive, where I might have assisted you if I had beenall a mother should be. "

"No, no, mother; I am the one to blame. You see, it looked so hopelessat first, I used to be ashamed to talk freely to you. It's only of lateI have opened my heart to you as I ought. "

"Well, dear, I am glad you think the blame is not all with me. But whatI see is my own fault, and mean to correct it. She gave you good advice, dear--to consult your mother. But you shall have my assistance as well;and I shall begin at once, like a zealous ally. When I say at once--thisis Sunday--I shall begin to-morrow at one o'clock. "

Then Henry sat down at her knee, and took her white hand in his brownones. 

"And what shall you do at one o'clock, my beautiful mother?"

"I shall return to society. "

CHAPTER XXII. 

Next morning Mrs. Little gave her son the benefit of her night'sreflections. 

"You must let me have some money--all you can spare from your business;and whilst I am doing something with it for you, you must go to London, and do exactly what I tell you to do. "

"Exactly? Then please write it down. "

"A very good plan. Can you go by the express this morning?"

"Why, yes, I could; only then I must run down to the works this minuteand speak to the foreman. "

"Well, dear, when you come back, your instructions shall be written, andyour bag packed. "

"I say, mother, you are going into it in earnest. All the better forme. "

At twelve he started for London, with a beautiful set of carving-toolsin his bag, and his mother's instructions in his pocket: thoseinstructions sent him to a fashionable tailor that very afternoon. Withsome difficulty he prevailed on this worthy to make him a dress-suit intwenty-four hours. Next day he introduced himself to the London trade, showed his carving-tools, and, after a hard day's work, succeeded inobtaining several orders. 

Then he bought some white ties and gloves and an opera hat, and had hishair cut in Bond Street. 

At seven he got his clothes at the tailor's, and at eight he was in thestalls of the opera. His mother had sent him there, to note the dressand public deportment of gentlemen and ladies, and use his own judgment. He found his attention terribly distracted by the music and the rapturesit caused him; but still he made some observations; and, consequently, next day he bought some fashionable shirts and sleeve studs and ribbonties; ordered a morning suit of the same tailor, to be sent to him atHillsborough; and after canvassing for customers all day, telegraphedhis mother, and reached Hillsborough at eleven P. M. 

At first sight of him Mrs. Little exclaimed:

"Oh! What have you done with your beautiful hair?"

He laughed, and said this was the fashion. 

"But it is like a private soldier. "

"Exactly. Part of the Volunteer movement, perhaps. "

"Are you sure it is the fashion, dear?"

"Quite sure. All the swells in the opera were bullet-headed just likethis. "

"Oh, if it is the fashion!" said Mrs. Little; and her mind succumbedunder that potent word. 

She asked him about the dresses of the ladies in the opera. 

His description was very lame. He said he didn't know he was expected tomake notes of them. 

"Well, but you might be sure I should like to know. Were there no ladiesdressed as you would like to see your mother dressed?"

"Good heavens, no! I couldn't fancy you in a lot of colors; and yourbeautiful head deformed into the shape of a gourd, with a beast of achignon stuck out behind, made of dead hair. "

"No matter. Mr. Henry; I wish I had been with you at the opera. I shouldhave seen something or other that would have become me. " She gave alittle sigh. 

He was not to come home to dinner that day, but stay at the works, tillshe sent for him. 

At six o'clock, Jael Dence came for him in a fly, and told him he was togo home with her. 

"All right, " said he; "but how did you come there?"

"She bade me come and see her again--that day I brought the bust. So Iwent to see her, and I found her so busy, and doing more than she wasfit, poor thing, so I made bold to give her a hand. That was yesterday;and I shall come every day--if 'tis only for an hour--till the curtainsare all up. "

"The curtains! what curtains?"

"Ask no questions, and you will hear no lies. "

Henry remonstrated; Jael recommended patience; and at last they reacheda little villa half way up Heath Hill. "You are at home now, " said Jael, dryly. The new villa looked very gay that evening, for gas and fireswere burning in every room. 

The dining-room and drawing room were both on the ground-floor; had eachone enormous window with plate glass, and were rooms of very fair size, divided by large folding-doors. These were now open, and Henry found hismother seated in the dining-room, with two workwomen, making curtains, and in the drawing-room were two more, sewing a carpet. 

The carpet was down in the dining-room. The tea-table was set, and gavean air of comfort and housewifely foresight, in the midst of all thesurrounding confusion. 

Young Little stared. Mrs. Little smiled. 

"Sit down, and never mind us: give him his tea, my good Jael. "

Henry sat down, and, while Jael was making the tea, ventured on a feebleexpostulation. "It's all very fine, mother, but I don't like to see youmake a slave of yourself. "

"Slaving!" said Jael, with a lofty air of pity. "Why, she is working forher own. " Rural logic!

"Oh, " said Mrs. Little to her, "these clever creatures we look up to soare rather stupid in some things. Slave! Why, I am a general leading myAmazons to victory. " And she waved her needle gracefully in the air. 

"Well, but why not let the shop do them, where you bought the curtains?'

"Because, my dear, the shop would do them very badly, very dearly, andvery slowly. Do you remember reading to me about Caesar, and what hesaid--'that a general should not say to his troops "GO and attackthe enemy, " "but COME and attack the enemy"?' Well, that applies toneedle-work. I say to these ladies, 'COME sew these curtains with me;'and the consequence is, we have done in three days what no shop inHillsborough would have done for us in a fortnight; but, as for slaves, the only one has been my good Jael there. She insisted on moving all theheavy boxes herself. She dismissed the porter; she said he had no pithin his arms--that was your expression, I think?"

"Ay, ma'am; that was my word: and I never spoke a truer; the uselessbody. Why, ma'am, the girls in Cairnhope are most of them well-grownhussies, and used to work in the fields, and carry full sacks of grainup steps. Many's the time I have RUN with a sack of barley on my back:so let us hear no more about your bits of boxes. I wish my mind was asstrong. "

"Heaven forbid!" said Mrs. Little, with comic fervor. Henry laughed. ButJael only stared, rather stupidly. By-and-by she said she must go now. 

"Henry shall take you home, dear. "

"Nay, I can go by myself. "

"It is raining a little, he will take you home in the cab. "

"Nay, I've got legs of my own, " said the rustic. 

"Henry, dear, " said the lady, quietly, "take her home in the cab, andthen come back to me. "

At the gate of Woodbine Villa, Jael said "it was not good-night thistime; it was good-by: she was going home for Patty's marriage. "

"But you will come back again?" said Henry. 

"Nay, father would be all alone. You'll not see me here again, unlessyou were in sorrow or sickness. "

"Ah, that's like you, Jael. Good-by then, and God bless you wherever yougo. "

Jael summoned all her fortitude, and shook hands with him in silence. They parted, and she fought down her tears, and he went gayly home tohis mother. She told him she had made several visits, and been cordiallyreceived. "And this is how I paved the way for you. So, mind! I said mybrother Raby wished you to take his name, and be his heir; but you hadsuch a love of manufactures and things, you could not be persuaded tosit down as a country gentleman. 'Indeed, ' I said, his 'love of thething is so great that, in order to master it in all its branches, nothing less would serve him than disguising himself, and going as aworkman. But now, ' I said, 'he has had enough of that, so he has setup a small factory, and will, no doubt, soon achieve a success. ' ThenI told them about you and Dr. Amboyne. Your philanthropic views didnot interest them for a single moment; but I could see the poor deardoctor's friendship was a letter of introduction. There will be nodifficulty, dear. There shall be none. What society Hillsborough boasts, shall open its arms to you. "

"But I'm afraid I shall make mistakes. "

"Our first little parties shall be given in this house. Your freeand easy way will be excused in a host; the master of the house has alatitude; and, besides, you and I will rehearse. By the way, please bemore careful about your nails; and you must always wear gloves when youare not working; and every afternoon you will take a lesson in dancingwith me. "

"I say, mother, do you remember teaching me to dance a minuet, when Iwas little?"

"Perfectly. We took great pains; and, at last, you danced it like anangel. And, shall I tell you, you carry yourself very gracefully?--well, that is partly owing to the minuet. But a more learned professor willnow take you in hand. He will be here tomorrow at five o'clock. "

Mrs. Little's rooms being nearly square, she set up a round table, atwhich eight could dine. But she began with five or six. 

Henry used to commit a solecism or two. Mrs. Little always noticedthem, and told him. He never wanted telling twice. He was a genial youngfellow, well read in the topics of the day, and had a natural wit; Mrs. Little was one of those women who can fascinate when they choose; andshe chose now; her little parties rose to eight; and as, at her table, everybody could speak without rudeness to everybody else, thisround table soon began to eclipse the long tables of Hillsborough inattraction. 

She and Henry went out a good deal; and, at last, that which Mrs. Little's good sense had told her must happen, sooner or later, tookplace. They met. 

He was standing talking with one of the male guests, when the servantannounced Miss Carden; and, whilst his heart was beating high, sheglided into the room, and was received by the mistress of the house withall that superabundant warmth which ladies put on and men don't: guesswhy?

When she turned round from this exuberant affection, she encounteredHenry's black eye full of love and delight, and his tongue tied, and hisswarthy cheek glowing red. She half started, and blushed in turn; andwith one glance drank in every article of dress he had on. Her eyesbeamed pleasure and admiration for a moment, then she made a littlecourtesy, then she took a step toward him, and held out her hand alittle coyly. 

Their hands and eyes encountered; and, after that delightful collision, they were both as demure as cats approaching cream. 

Before they could say a word of any consequence, a cruel servantannounced dinner, to the great satisfaction of every other soul in theroom. 

Of course they were parted at dinner-time; but they sat exactly oppositeeach other, and Henry gazed at her so, instead of minding his business, that she was troubled a little, and fain to look another way. For allthat, she found opportunity once or twice to exchange thoughts with him. Indeed, in the course of the two hours, she gave him quite a lesson howto speak with the eye--an art in which he was a mere child compared withher. 

She conveyed to him that she saw his mother and recognized her; and alsoshe hoped to know her. 

But some of her telegrams puzzled him. 

When the gentlemen came up after dinner, she asked him if he would notpresent her to his mother. 

"Oh, thank you!" said he, naively; and introduced them to each other. 

The ladies courtesied with grace, but a certain formality, for they bothfelt the importance of the proceeding, and were a little on their guard. 

But they had too many safe, yet interesting topics, to be very long at aloss. 

"I should have known you by your picture, Mrs. Little. "

"Ah, then I fear it must be faded since I saw it last. "

"I think not. But I hope you will soon judge for yourself. "

Mrs. Little shook her head. Then she said, graciously, "I hear it is toyou I am indebted that people can see I was once--what I am not now. "

Grace smiled, well pleased. "Ah, " said she, "I wish you could haveseen that extraordinary scene, and heard dear Mr. Raby. Oh, madam, letnothing make you believe you have no place in his great heart!"

"Pray, pray, do not speak of that. This is no place. How could I bearit?" and Mrs. Little began to tremble. 

Grace apologized. "How indiscreet I am; I blurt out every thing that isin my heart. "

"And so do I, " said Henry, coming to her aid. 

"Ah, YOU, " said Grace, a little saucily. 

"We do not accept you for our pattern, you see. Pray excuse our badtaste, Harry. "

"Oh, excuse ME, Mrs. Little. In some things I should indeed be proud ifI could imitate him; but in others--of course--you know!"

"Yes, I know. My dear, there is your friend Mr. Applethwaite. "

"I see him, " said Henry, carelessly. 

"Yes; but you don't see every thing, " said Grace, slyly. 

"Not all at once, like you ladies. Bother my friend Applethwaite. Well, if I must, I must. Here goes--from Paradise to Applethwaite. "

He went off, and both ladies smiled, and one blushed; and, to cover herblush, said, "it is not every son that has the grace to appreciate hismother so. "

Mrs. Little opened her eyes at first, and then made her nearest approachto a laugh, which was a very broad smile, displaying all her whiteteeth. "That is a turn I was very far from expecting, " said she. 

The ice was now broken, and, when Henry returned, he found themconversing so rapidly and so charmingly, that he could do little morethan listen. 

At last Mr. Carden came in from some other party, and carried hisdaughter off, and the bright evening came too soon to a close; buta great point had been gained: Mrs. Little and Grace Carden wereacquaintances now, and cordially disposed to be friends. 

The next time these lovers met, matters did not go quite so smoothly. Itwas a large party, and Mr. Coventry was there. The lady of the house wasa friend of his, and assigned Miss Carden to him. He took her down todinner, and Henry sat a long way off but on the opposite side of thetable. 

He was once more doomed to look on at the assiduities of his rival, andit spoiled his dinner for him. 

But he was beginning to learn that these things must be in society; andhis mother, on the other side of the table, shrugged her shoulders tohim, and conveyed by that and a look that it was a thing to make lightof. 

In the evening the rivals came into contact. 

Little, being now near her he loved, was in high spirits, and talkedfreely and agreeably. He made quite a little circle round him; and asGrace was one of the party, and cast bright and approving eyes on him, it stimulated him still more, and he became quite brilliant. 

Then Coventry, who was smarting with jealousy, set himself to cool allthis down by a subtle cold sort of jocoseness, which, without beingdownright rude, operates on conversation of the higher kind like froston expanding buds. It had its effect, and Grace chafed secretly, butcould not interfere. It was done very cleverly. Henry was bitterlyannoyed; but his mother, who saw his rising ire in his eye, carried himoff to see a flowering cactus in a hot-house that was accessible fromthe drawing-room. When she had got him there, she soothed him andlectured him. "You are not a match for that man in these petty actsof annoyance, to which a true gentleman and a noble rival would hardlydescend, I think; at all events, a wise one would not; for, believe me, Mr. Coventry will gain nothing by this. "

"Isn't driving us off the field something? Oh, for the good old dayswhen men settled these things in five minutes, like men; the girl toone, and the grave to t'other. "

"Heaven forbid those savage days should ever return. We will defeat thisgentleman quietly, if you please. "

"How?"

"Well, whenever he does this sort of thing, hide your anger; be politeand dignified; but gradually drop the conversation, and manage to conveyto the rest that it is useless contending against a wet blanket. Why, you foolish boy, do you think Grace Carden likes him any the better?Whilst you and I talk, she is snubbing him finely. So you must stay herewith me, and give them time to quarrel. There, to lessen the penance, we will talk about her. Last time we met her, she told me you were thebest-dressed gentleman in the room. "

"And did she like me any better for that?"

"Don't you be ungracious, dear. She was proud of you. It gratified herthat you should look well in every way. Oh, if you think that we aregoing to change our very natures for you, and make light of dress--whydid I send you to a London tailor? and why am I always at you about yourgloves?"

"Mother, I am on thorns. "

"Well, we will go back. Stop; let me take a peep first. "

She took a peep, and reported, "The little circle is broken up. Mr. Coventry could not amuse them asyou did. Ah! she is in the sulks, and he is mortified. I know there's aFrench proverb 'Les absens ont toujours tort. ' But it is quite untrue;judicious absence is a weapon, and I must show you how and when to useit. "

"Mother, you are my best friend. What shall we do next?"

"Why, go back to the room with me, and put on an imperturbable goodhumor, and ignore him; only mind you do that politely, or you will givehim an advantage he is too wise to give you. "

Henry was about to obey these orders, but Miss Carden took the word outof his mouth. 

"Well! the cactus?"

Then, as it is not easy to reply to a question so vague, Henryhesitated. 

"There, I thought so, " said Grace. 

"What did you think?" inquired Mrs. Little. 

"Oh, people don't go into hot-houses to see a cactus; they go to flirtor else gossip. I'll tell Mrs. White to set a short-hand writer in thegreat aloe, next party she gives. Confess, Mrs. Little, you went tocriticise poor us, and there is no cactus at all. "

"Miss Carden, I'm affronted. You shall smart for this. Henry, take herdirectly and show her the cactus, and clear your mother's character. "

Henry offered his arm directly, and they went gayly off. 

"Is she gone to flirt, or to gossip?" asked a young lady. 

"Our watches must tell us that, " said Mrs. Little. "If they stay fiveminutes--gossip. "

"And how many--flirtation?"

"Ah, my dear, YOU know better than I do. What do you say?Five-and-twenty?"

The young ladies giggled. 

Then Mr. Coventry came out strong. He was mortified, he was jealous; hesaw a formidable enemy had entered the field, and had just outwitted andout-maneuvered him. So what does he do but step up to her, and say toher, with the most respectful grace, "May I be permitted to welcome youback to this part of the world? I am afraid I can not exactly claim youracquaintance; but I have often heard my father speak of you with thehighest admiration. My name is Coventry. "

"Mr. Coventry, of Bollinghope?" (He bowed. ) "Yes; I had the pleasure ofknowing your mother in former days. "

"You, have deserted us too long. "

"I do not flatter myself I have been missed. "

"Is anybody ever missed, Mrs. Little? Believe me, few persons arewelcomed back so cordially as you are. "

"That is very flattering, Mr. Coventry. It is for my son's sake I havereturned to society. "

"No doubt; but you will remain there for your own. Society is yourplace. You are at home in it, and were born to shine in it. "

"What makes you think that, pray?" and the widow's cheek flushed alittle. 

"Oh, Mrs. Little, I have seen something of the world. Count me amongstyour most respectful admirers. It is a sentiment I have a right to, since I inherit it. "

"Well, Mr. Coventry, then I give you leave to admire me--if you can. Ah, here they come. Two minutes! I am afraid it was neither gossip norflirtation, but only botany. "

Grace and Henry came back, looking very radiant. 

"What do you think?" said Grace, "I never was more surprised in my life, there really is a cactus, and a night cereus into the bargain. Mrs. Little, behold a penitent. I bring you my apology, and a jardenia. "

"Oh, how sweet! Never mind the apology. Quarrel with me often, and bringme a jardenia. I'll always make it up on those terms. "

"Miss White, " said Grace, pompously, "I shall require a few dozencuttings from your tree, please tell the gardener. Arrangements aresuch, I shall have to grow jardenias on a scale hitherto unprecedented. "

There was a laugh, and, in the middle of it, a servant announced MissCarden's carriage. 

"What attentive servants you have, Miss White. I requested that man tobe on the watch, and, if I said a good thing, to announce my carriagedirectly; and he did it pat. Now see what an effective exit that givesme. Good-by, Miss White, good-by, Mrs. Little; may you all disappear asneatly. "

Mr. Coventry stepped smartly forward, and offered her his arm withcourteous deference; she took it, and went down with him, but shotover his shoulder a side-glance of reproach at Little, for not being soprompt as his rival. 

"What spirits!" said a young lady. 

"Yes, " said another; "but she was as dull as the grave last time I mether. "

So ended that evening, with its little ups and downs. 

Soon after this, Henry called on Miss Carden, and spent a heavenly hourwith her. He told her his plans for getting on in the world, andshe listened with a demure complacency, that seemed to imply sheacknowledged a personal interest in his success. She told him she hadalways ADMIRED his independence in declining his uncle's offer, and nowshe was beginning to APPROVE it: "It becomes a man, " said she. 

From the future they went to the past, and she reminded him of thesnow-storm and the scene in the church; and, in speaking of it, hereye deepened in color, her voice was low and soft, and she was alltenderness. 

If love was not directly spoken, it was constantly implied, and, infact, that is how true love generally speaks. The eternal "Je vous aime"of the French novelist is false to nature, let me tell you. 

"And, when I come back from London, I hope your dear mother will give meopportunities of knowing her better. "

"She will be delighted; but, going to London!"

"Oh, we spend six weeks in London every year; and this is our time. Iwas always glad to go, before--London is very gay now you know--but I amnot glad now. "

"No more am I, I can assure you. I am very sorry. "

"Six weeks will soon pass. "

"Six weeks of pain is a good long time. You are the sunshine of my life. And you are going to shine on others, and leave me dark and solitary. "

"But how do you know I shall shine on others? Perhaps I shall be dullerthan you will, and think all the more of Hillsborough, for being inLondon. "

The melting tone in which this was said, and the coy and tenderside-glance that accompanied it, were balm of Gilead to the lover. 

He took comfort, and asked her, cheerfully, if he might write to her. 

She hesitated a single moment, and then said "Yes. "

She added, however, after a pause, "But you can't; for you don't know myaddress. "

"But you will tell me. "

"Never! never! Fifty-eight Clarges Street. "

"When do you go?"

"The day after to-morrow: at twelve o'clock. "

"May I see you off at the train?"

She hesitated. "If--you--like, " said she, slowly: "but I think you hadbetter not. "

"Oh, let me see the last of you. "

"Use your own judgment, dear. "

The monosyllable slipped out, unintentionally: she was thinking ofsomething else. Yet, as soon as she had uttered it, she said "Oh!" andblushed all, over. "I forgot I was not speaking to a lady, " said she, innocently: then, right archly, "please forgive me. "

He caught her hand, and kissed it devotedly. 

Then she quivered all over. "You mustn't, " said she with the gentlestpossible tone of reproach. "Oh dear, I am so sorry I am going. " And sheturned her sweet eyes on him, with tears in them. 

Then a visitor was announced, and they parted. 

He was deep in love. He was also, by nature, rather obstinate. Althoughshe had said she thought it would be better for him not to see her off, yet he would go to the station, and see the last of her. 

He came straight from the station to his mother. She was upstairs. Hethrew himself into a chair, and there she found him, looking ghastly. 

"Oh, mother! what shall I do?"

"What is the matter, love?"

"She is false; she is false. She has gone up to London with thatCoventry. "

APPENDIX. 

EXTRACT FROM HENRY LITTLE'S REPORT. 

The File-cutters. 

"This is the largest trade, containing about three thousand men, andseveral hundred women and boys. Their diseases and deaths arise frompoisoning by lead. The file rests on a bed of lead during the processof cutting, which might more correctly be called stamping; and, asthe stamping-chisel can only be guided to the required nicety by thefinger-nail, the lead is constantly handled and fingered, and enters thesystem through the pores. 

"Besides this, fine dust of lead is set in motion by the blows thatdrive the cutting-chisel, and the insidious poison settles on the hairand the face, and is believed to go direct to the lungs, some of it. 

"The file-cutter never lives the span of life allotted to man. Aftermany small warnings his thumb weakens. He neglects that; and he getstouches of paralysis in the thumb, the arm, and the nerves of thestomach; can't digest; can't sweat; at last, can't work; goes to thehospital: there they galvanize him, which does him no harm; and boilhim, which does him a deal of good. He comes back to work, resumes hisdirty habits, takes in fresh doses of lead, turns dirty white or sallow, gets a blue line round his teeth, a dropped wrist, and to the hospitalagain or on to the file-cutter's box; and so he goes miserably on andoff, till he drops into a premature grave, with as much lead in his bodyas would lap a hundredweight of tea. "

THE REMEDIES. 

A. What the masters might do. 

"1. Provide every forge with two small fires, eighteen inches from theground. This would warm the lower limbs of the smiths. At present theirbodies suffer by uneven temperature; they perspire down to the waist, and then freeze to the toe. 

"2. For the wet-grinders they might supply fires in every wheel, abolishmud floors, and pave with a proper fall and drain. 

"To prevent the breaking of heavy grinding-stones, fit them with thelarge strong circular steel plate--of which I subjoin a drawing--insteadof with wedges or insufficient plates. They might have an eye to life, as well as capital, in buying heavy grindstones. I have traced the deathof one grinder to the master's avarice: he went to the quarry and boughta stone for thirty-five shillings the quarry-master had set aside asimperfect; its price would have been sixty shillings if it had been fitto trust a man's life to. This master goes to church twice a Sunday, and is much respected by his own sort: yet he committed a murder fortwenty-five shillings. Being Hillsborough, let us hope it was a murdererhe murdered. 

"For the dry-grinders they might all supply fans and boxes. Some do, andthe good effect is very remarkable. Moreover the present fans and boxescould be much improved. 

"One trade--the steel-fork grinders--is considerably worse than therest; and although the fan does much for it, I'm told it must stillremain an unhealthy trade. If so, and Dr. Amboyne is right about Life, Labor, and Capital, let the masters co-operate with the Legislature, andextinguish the handicraft. 

"For the file-cutters, the masters might--

1st. Try a substitute for lead. It is all very well to say a file mustrest on lead to be cut. Who has ever employed brains on that question?Who has tried iron, wood, and gutta-percha in layers? Who has ever triedany thing, least of all the thing called Thought?

"2d. If lead is the only bed--which I doubt, and the lead must bebare--which I dispute, then the master ought to supply every gangof file-cutters with hooks--taps, and basins and soap, in some placeadjoining their work-rooms. Lead is a subtle, but not a swift, poison;and soap and water every two hours is an antidote. 

"3d. They ought to forbid the introduction of food into file-cuttingrooms. Workmen are a reckless set, and a dirty set; food has no businessin any place of theirs, where poison is going. 

"B. What the workmen might do. 

"1st. Demand from the masters these improvements I have suggested, and, if the demand came through the secretaries of their Unions, the masterswould comply. 

"2d. They might drink less and wash their bodies with a small partof the money so saved: the price of a gill of gin and a hot bathare exactly the same; only the bath is health to a dry-grinder, ortile-cutter; the gin is worse poison to him than to healthy men. 

"3d. The small wet-grinders, who have to buy their grindstones, mightbuy sound ones, instead of making bargains at the quarry, which provedouble bad bargains when the stone breaks, since then a new stone isrequired, and sometimes a new man, too. 

"4th. They might be more careful not to leave the grindstone in water. Ihave traced three broken stones in one wheel to that abominable piece ofcarelessness. 

"5th. They ought never to fix an undersized pulley wheel. Simmons killedhimself by that, and by grudging the few hours of labor required to hangand race a sound stone. 

"6th. If files can only be cut on lead, the file-cutters might anoint thelead over night with a hard-drying ointment, soluble in turps, and thisointment might even be medicated with an antidote to the salt of lead. 

"7th. If files can only be cut on BARE lead, the men ought to cut theirhair close, and wear a light cap at work. They ought to have a canvassuit in the adjoining place (see above); don it when they come, and doffit when they go. They ought to leave off their insane habit of lickingthe thumb and finger of the left hand--which is the leaded hand--withtheir tongues. This beastly trick takes the poison direct to thestomach. They might surely leave it to get there through the pores; itis slow, but sure. I have also repeatedly seen a file-cutter eat hisdinner with his filthy poisoned fingers, and so send the poison homeby way of salt to a fool's bacon. Finally, they ought to wash off thepoison every two hours at the taps. 

"8th. Since they abuse the masters and justly, for their greediness, they ought not to imitate their greediness by driving their poor littlechildren into unhealthy trades, and so destroying them body and soul. This practice robs the children of education at the very seed-time oflife, and literally murders many of them; for their soft and porousskins, and growing organs, take in all poisons and disorders quickerthan an adult. 

C. What the Legislature might do. 

"It might issue a commission to examine the Hillsborough trades, and, when accurately informed, might put some practical restraints both onthe murder and the suicide that are going on at present. A few of thesuggestions I have thrown out might, I think, be made law. 

"For instance, the master who should set a dry-grinder to a troughwithout a fan, or put his wet-grinders on a mud floor and no fire, orhis file-cutters in a room without taps and basins, or who should beconvicted of willfully buying a faulty grindstone, might be made subjectto a severe penalty; and the municipal authorities invested with rightsof inspection, and encouraged to report. 

"In restraint of the workmen, the Legislature ought to extend theFactory Acts to Hillsborough trades, and so check the heartless avariceof the parents. At present, no class of her Majesty's subjects criesso loud, and so vainly, to her motherly bosom, and the humanity ofParliament as these poor little children; their parents, the lowestand most degraded set of brutes in England, teach them swearing andindecency at home, and rob them of all decent education, and drive themto their death, in order to squeeze a few shillings out of their younglives; for what?--to waste in drink and debauchery. Count the publichouses in this town. 

"As to the fork-grinding trade, the Legislature might assist the mastersto extinguish it. It numbers only about one hundred and fifty persons, all much poisoned, and little paid. The work could all be done byfifteen machines and thirty hands, and, in my opinion, without theexpense of grindstones. The thirty men would get double wages: the oddhundred and twenty would, of course, be driven into other trades, after suffering much distress. And, on this account, I would call inParliament, because then there would be a temporary compensation offeredto the temporary sufferers by a far-sighted and, beneficent measure. Besides, without Parliament, I am afraid the masters could not do it. The fork-grinders would blow up the machines, and the men who workedthem, and their wives and their children, and their lodgers, and theirlodgers' visitors. 

"For all that, if your theory of Life, Labor, and Capital is true, allincurably destructive handicrafts ought to give way to machinery, andwill, as Man advances. "

CHAPTER XXIII. 

"What! eloped?"

"Heaven forbid! Why, mother, I didn't say she was alone with him; herfather was of the party. "

"Then surely you are distressing yourself more than you need. She goesto London with her papa, and Mr. Coventry happens to go up the same day;that is really all. "

"Oh, but, mother, it was no accident. I watched his face, and there wasno surprise when he came up with his luggage and saw her. "

Mrs. Little pondered for a minute, and then said, "I dare say allher friends knew she was going up to London to-day; and Mr. Coventrydetermined to go up the same day. Why, he is courting her: my dearHenry, you knew before to-day that you had a rival, and a determinedone. If you go and blame her for his acts, it will be apt to end in hisdefeating you. "

"Will it? Then I won't blame her at all. "

"You had better not till you are quite sure: it is one way of losing ahigh-spirited girl. "

"I tell you I won't. Mother!"

"Well, dear?"

"When I asked leave to come to the station and see her off, she seemedput out. "

"Did she forbid you?"

"No; but she did not like it somehow. Ah, she knew beforehand thatCoventry would be there. "

"Gently, gently! She might think it possible, and yet not know it. Morelikely it was on account of her father. You have never told him that youlove his daughter?"

"No. "

"And he is rather mercenary: perhaps that is too strong a word; but, inshort, a mere man of the world. Might it not be that Grace Carden wouldwish him to learn your attachment either from your lips or from her own, and not detect it in an impetuous young man's conduct on the platform ofa railway, at the tender hour of parting?"

"Oh, how wise you are, and what an insight you have got! Your words arebalm. But, there--he is with her for ever so long, and I am here allalone. "

"Not quite alone, love; your counselor is by your side, and may, perhaps, show you how to turn this to your advantage. You write toher every day, and then the postman will be a powerful rival to Mr. Coventry, perhaps a more powerful one than Mr. Coventry to you. "

Acting on this advice, Henry wrote every day to Grace Carden. She wasnot so constant in her replies; but she did write to him now and then, and her letters breathed a gentle affection that allayed his jealousy, and made this period of separation the happiest six weeks he had everknown. As for Grace, about three o'clock she used to look out for thepostman, and be uneasy and restless if he was late, and, when his knockcame, her heart would bound, and she generally flew upstairs withthe prize, to devour it in secret. She fed her heart full with theseletters, and loved the writer better and better. For once the presentsuitor lost ground, and the absent suitor gained it. Mrs. Little divinedas much from Grace's letters and messages to herself; and she said, witha smile, "You see 'Les absents n'ont pas toujours tort. '"

CHAPTER XXIV. 

I must now deal briefly with a distinct vein of incidents, that occurredbetween young Little's first becoming a master and the return of theCardens from London. 

Little, as a master, acted up to the philanthropic theories he had putforth when a workman. 

The wet-grinders in his employ submitted to his improved plates, hispaved and drained floor, and cozy fires, without a murmur or a word ofthanks. By degrees they even found out they were more comfortable thanother persons in their condition, and congratulated themselves upon it. 

The dry-grinders consented, some of them, to profit by his improvedfans. Others would not take the trouble to put the fans in gear, andwould rather go on inhaling metal-dust and stone-grit. 

Henry reasoned, but in vain; remonstrated, but with little success. Thenhe discharged a couple: they retired with mien of martyrs; and theirsuccessors were admitted on a written agreement that left them nooption. The fan triumphed. 

The file-cutters were more troublesome; they clung to death and disease, like limpets to established rocks; they would not try any other bed thanbare lead, and they would not wash at the taps Little had provided, andthey would smuggle in dinners and eat with poisoned hands. 

Little reasoned, and remonstrated, but with such very triflingsuccess, that, at last, he had to put down the iron heel; he gave thefile-cutters a printed card, with warning to leave on one side, and hisreasons on the other. 

In twenty-four hours he received a polite remonstrance from thesecretary of the File-Cutters' Union. 

He replied that the men could remain, if they would sign an agreementto forego certain suicidal practices, and to pay fines in case ofdisobedience; said fines to be deducted from their earnings. 

Then the secretary suggested a conference at the "Cutlers' Arms. " Littleassented: and there was a hot argument. The father of all file-cuttersobjected to tyranny and innovation: Little maintained that Innovationwas nearly always Improvement--the world being silly--and was manifestlyimprovement in the case under consideration. He said also he was merelydoing what the Union itself ought to do: protecting the life of Unionmen who were too childish and wrong-headed to protect it themselves. 

"We prefer a short life and a merry one, Mr. Little, " said the father ofall file-cutters. 

"A life of disease is not a merry one: slow poisoning is not a pleasantway of living, but a miserable way of dying. None but the healthy arehappy. Many a Croesus would give half his fortune for a poor man'sstomach; yet you want your cutlers to be sick men all their days, andnot gain a shilling by it. Man alive, I am not trying to lower theirwages. "

"Ay, but you are going the way to do it. "

"How do you make that out?"

"The trade is full already; and, if you force the men to live tothreescore and ten, you will overcrowd it so, they will come tostarvation wages. "

Little was staggered at this thunderbolt of logic, and digested thematter in silence for a moment. Then he remembered something that hadfallen from Dr. Amboyne; and he turned to Grotait. "What do you say tothat, sir? would you grind Death's scythe for him (at the list price) tothin the labor market?"

Grotait hesitated for once. In his heart he went with the file-cutter:but his understanding encumbered him. 

"Starvation, " said he, "is as miserable a death as poisoning. Butwhy make a large question out of a small one, with rushing intogeneralities? I really think you might let Mr. Little settle this matterwith the individual workmen. He has got a little factory, and a littlecrochet; he chooses to lengthen the lives of six file-cutters. He saysto them, 'My money is my own, and I'll give you so much of it, in returnfor so much work plus so much washing and other novelties. ' The questionis, does his pay cover the new labor of washing, etc. , as well as theold?"

"Mr. Grotait, I pay the highest price that is going. "

"In that case, I think the Unions are not bound to recognize thediscussion. Mr. Little, I have some other reasons to lay before my goodfriend here, and I hope to convince him. Now, there's a little party ofus going to dine to-morrow at 'Savage's Hotel, ' up by the new reservoir;give us the pleasure of your company, will you? and, by that time, perhaps I may have smoothed this little matter for you. " Little thankedhim, accepted the invitation, and left the pair of secretaries together. 

When he was gone, Grotait represented that public opinion would go withLittle on this question; and the outrages he had sustained would be allripped up by the Hillsborough Liberal, and the two topics combined in anugly way; and all for what?--to thwart a good-hearted young fellow ina philanthropical crotchet, which, after all, did him honor, and wouldnever be imitated by any other master in Hillsborough. And so, for once, this Machiavel sided with Henry, not from the purest motives, yet, mindyou, not without a certain mixture of right feeling and humanity. 

On the Sunday Henry dined with him and his party, at "Savage's Hotel, "and the said dinner rather surprised Henry; the meats were simple, butof good quality, and the wines, which were all brought out by Grotait, were excellent. That Old Saw, who retailed ale and spirits to hiscustomers, would serve nothing less to his guests than champagne andburgundy. And, if the cheer was generous, the host was admirable; heshowed, at the head of his genial board, those qualities which, coupledwith his fanaticism, had made him the Doge of the Hillsborough trades. He was primed on every subject that could interest his guests, and knewsomething about nearly everything else. He kept the ball always going, but did not monologuize, except when he was appealed to as a judge, andthen did it with a mellow grace that no man can learn without Nature'said. There is no society, however distinguished, in which Grotait wouldnot have been accepted as a polished and admirable converser. 

Add to this that he had an art, which was never quite common, but is nowbecoming rare, of making his guests feel his friends--for the time, atall events. 

Young Little sat amazed, and drank in his words with delight, and couldnot realize that this genial philosopher was the person who had launcheda band of ruffians at him. Yet, in his secret heart, he could not doubtit: and so he looked and listened with a marvelous mixture of feelings, on which one could easily write pages of analysis, very curious, andequally tedious. 

They dined at three; and, at five, they got up, as agreed beforehand, and went to inspect the reservoir in course of construction. A morecompendious work of art was never projected: the contractors had takenfor their basis a mountain gorge, with a stream flowing through itdown toward Hillsborough; all they had to do was to throw an embankmentacross the lower end of the gorge, and turn it to a mighty basin open toreceive the stream, and the drainage from four thousand acres of hill. From this lake a sixty-foot wear was to deal out the water-supply tothe mill-owners below, and the surplus to the people of Hillsborough, distant about eight miles on an easy decline. 

Now, as the reservoir must be full at starting, and would then be eightyfeet deep in the center, and a mile long, and a quarter of a mile broad, on the average, an embankment of uncommon strength was required torestrain so great a mass of water; and this was what the Hillsboroughworthies were curious about. They strolled out to the works, and thentea was to come out after them, the weather being warm and soft. Closeto the works they found a foreman of engineers smoking his pipe, andinterrogated him. He showed them a rising wall, five hundred feet wideat the base, and told them it was to be ninety feet high, narrowing, gradually, to a summit twelve feet broad. As the whole embankment was tobe twelve hundred feet long at the top, this gave some idea of thebulk of the materials to be used: those materials were clay, shale, mill-stone, and sandstone of looser texture. The engineer knew Grotait, and brought him a drawing of the mighty cone to be erected. "Why, itwill be a mountain!" said Little. 

"Not far from that, sir: and yet you'll never see half the work. Why, we had an army of navvies on it last autumn, and laid a foundation sixtyfeet deep and these first courses are all bonded in to the foundation, and bonded together, as you see. We are down to solid rock, and nowater can get to undermine us. The puddle wall is sixteen feet wide atstarting, and diminishes to four feet at the top: so no water can creepin through our jacket. "

"But what are these apertures?" inquired Grotait. 

"Oh, those are the waste-pipes. They pass through the embankmentobliquely, to the wear-dam: they can be opened, or shut, by valves, andrun off ten thousand cubic feet of water a minute. "

"But won't that prove a hole in your armor? Why, these pipes must be intwenty joints, at least. "

"Say fifty-five; you'll be nearer the mark. "

"And suppose one or two of these fifty-five joints should leak? You'llhave an everlasting solvent in the heart of your pile, and you can't getat them, you know, to mend them. "

"Of course not; but they are double as thick as ever were used before;and have been severely tested before laying 'em down: besides, don't yousee each of them has got his great-coat on? eighteen inches of puddleall the way. "

"Ah, " said Grotait, "all the better. But it is astonishing what bigembankments will sometimes burst if a leaky pipe runs through them. Idon't think it is the water, altogether; the water seems to makeair inside them, and that proves as bad for them as wind in a man'sstomach. "

"Governor, " said the engineer, "don't you let bees swarm in your bonnet. Ousely reservoir will last as long as them hills there. "

"No, doubt, lad, since thou's had a hand in making it. "

The laugh this dry rejoinder caused was interrupted by the waitressbringing out tea; and these Hillsborough worthies felt bound to chaffher; but she, being Yorkshire too, gave them as good as they brought, and a trifle to spare. 

Tea was followed by brandy-and-water and pipes: and these came out insuch rapid succession, that when Grotait drove Little and two othershome, his utterance was thick, and his speech sententious. 

Little found Bayne waiting for him, with the news that he had left Mr. Cheetham. 

"How was that?"

"Oh, fell between two stools. Tried to smooth matters between Cheethamand the hands: but Cheetham, he wants a manager to side with him throughthick and thin; and the men want one to side with them. He has sackedme, and the men are glad I'm going: and this comes of loving peace, whenthe world hates it. "

"And I am glad of it, for now you are my foreman. I know what you areworth, if those fools don't. "

"Are you in earnest, Little?"

"Why not?"

"I hear you have been dining with Grotait, and he always makes theliquor fly. Wait till tomorrow. Talk it over with Mrs. Little here. I'mafraid I'm not the right sort for a servant. Too fond of 'the balmy, 'and averse to the whole hog. " (The poor fellow was quite discouraged. )

"The very man I want to soothe me at odd times: they rile me so withtheir suicidal folly. Now, look here, old fellow, if you don't come tome, I'll give you a good hiding. "

"Oh! well, sooner than you should break the peace--. Mrs. Little, I'drather be with him at two guineas a week, than with any other master atthree. "

When he had got this honest fellow to look after his interests, youngLittle gave more way than ever to his natural bent for invention, and hewas often locked up for twelve hours at a stretch, in a room he calledhis studio. Indeed, such was his ardor, that he sometimes left homeafter dinner, and came back to the works, and then the fitful fire ofhis forge might be seen, and the blows of his hammer heard, long aftermidnight. 

Dr. Amboyne encouraged him in this, and was, indeed, the only personadmitted to his said studio. There the Democritus of Hillsborough oftensat and smoked his cigar, and watched the progress toward perfection ofprojected inventions great and small. 

One day the doctor called and asked Bayne whether Henry was in hisstudio. Bayne said no; he thought he had seen him in the saw-grinders'hull. "And that struck me; for it is not often his lordship condescendsto go there now. "

"Let us see what 'his lordship' is at. "

They approached stealthily, and, looking through a window, saw theinventor standing with his arms folded, and his eyes bent on a grinderat his work: the man was pressing down a six-feet saw on a grindstonewith all his might and Little was looking on, with a face compounded ofpity, contempt, and lofty contemplation. 

"That is the game now, sir, " whispered Bayne: "always in the clouds, orelse above 'em. A penny for your thoughts, sir!"

Henry started, as men do who are roused from deep contemplation;however, he soon recovered himself, and, with a sort of rude wit of hisown, he held out his hand for the penny. 

Amboyne fumbled in his pocket, and gave him a stamp. 

Little seized it, and delivered himself as follows: "My thoughts, gentlemen, were general and particular. I was making a reflection howcontented people are to go bungling on, doing a thing the wrong way, when the right way is obvious: and my particular observation was--thatthese long saws are ground in a way which offends the grammar ofmechanics. Here's a piece of steel six feet long, but not so wide asthe grindstone:--what can be plainer than that such a strip ought to beground lengthwise? then the whole saw would receive the grindstone in afew seconds. Instead of that, on they go, year after year, grinding themobliquely, and with a violent exertion that horrifies a fellow like me, who goes in for economy of labor, and have done all my life. Look atthat fellow working. What a waste of muscle! Now, if you will come to mystudio, I think I can show you how long saws WILL be ground in the daysof civilization. "

His eye, which had been turned inward during his reverie, dullish andsomewhat fish-like, now sparkled like a hot coal, and he led the wayeagerly. 

"Pray humor him, sir, " said Bayne, compassionately. 

They followed him up a horrid stair, and entered his studio and amarvelous place it was: a forge on one side, a carpenter's benchand turning-lathe on the other and the floor so crowded with models, castings, and that profusion of new ideas in material form whichhousewives call litter, that the artist had been obliged to cut threelittle ramified paths, a foot wide, and so meander about the room, asstruggles a wasp over spilt glue. 

He gave the doctor the one chair, and wriggled down a path after penciland paper: he jumped with them, like a cat with a mouse, on to thecarpenter's bench, and was soon absorbed in drawing. 

When he had drawn a bit, he tore up the paper, and said, "Let me think. "

"The request is unusual, " said Dr. Amboyne; "however, if you will let ussmoke, we will let you think. "

No reply from the inventor, whose eye was already turned inward, andfish-like again. 

Dr. Amboyne and Bayne smoked peaceably awhile. But presently theinventor uttered a kind of shout. 

"Eureka, " said the doctor calmly, and emitted a curly cloud. 

Little dashed at the paper, and soon produced a drawing. It representedtwo grindstones set apparently to grind each other, a large one below, asmall one above. 

"There--the large stone shall revolve rapidly, say from north to south;the small one from south to north: that is the idea which has juststruck me, and completes the invention. It is to be worked, not by onegrinder, but two. A stands south, and passes the saw northward betweenthe two grindstones to B. The stones must be hung so as just to allowthe passage of the saw. B draws it out, and reverses it, and passes itback to A. Those two journeys of the saw will grind the whole length ofit for a breath of two or three inches, and all in forty seconds. Nowdo you see what I meant by the grammar of mechanics? It was the falsegrammar of those duffers, grinding a long thing sideways instead oflengthways, that struck my mind first. And now see what one gets toat last if one starts from grammar. By this machine two men can easilygrind as many big saws as twenty men could grind on single stones: andinstead of all that heavy, coarse labor, and dirt, and splashing, mytwo men shall do the work as quietly and as easily as two printers, onefeeding a machine with paper, and his mate drawing out the printed sheetat the other end. "

"By Jove, " said Dr. Amboyne, "I believe this is a great idea. What doyou say, Mr. Bayne?"

"Well, sir, a servant mustn't always say his mind. "

"Servant be hanged!" said Little. "THAT for a friend who does not speakhis mind. "

"Well, then, gentlemen, it is the most simple and beautiful contrivanceI ever saw. And there's only one thing to be done with it. "

"Patent it?"

"No; hide it; lock it up in your own breast, and try and forget it. Yourlife won't be worth a week's purchase, if you set up that machine inHillsborough. "

"Hillsborough is not all the world. I can take it to some freecountry--America or--Russia; there's a fortune in it. Stop; supposeI was to patent it at home and abroad, and then work it in the UnitedStates and the Canadas. That would force the invention upon thiscountry, by degrees. "

"Yes, and then, if you sell the English patent and insure thepurchaser's life, you may turn a few thousands, and keep a whole skinyourself. "

Little assured Bayne he had no intention of running his head against theSaw-grinders' Union. "We are very comfortable as it is, and I value mylife more than I used to do. "

"I think I know why, " said Dr. Amboyne. "But, whatever you do, patentyour invention. Patent them all. "

Henry promised he would; but soon forgot his promise, and, having tastedblood, so to speak, was soon deep in a far more intricate puzzle, viz. , how to grind large circular saws by machinery. This problem, andhis steel railway clip, which was to displace the present system offastening down the rails, absorbed him so, that he became abstracted inthe very streets, and did not see his friends when they passed. 

One day, when he was deeply engaged in his studio, Bayne tapped at thedoor, and asked to speak to him. 

"Well, what is it?" said the inventor, rather peevishly. 

"Oh, nothing, " said Bayne, with a bitter air of mock resignation. "Onlya cloud on the peaceful horizon; that is all. A letter from Mary Anne. "

"SIR, --Four of your saws are behindhand with their contributions, and, being deaf to remonstrance, I am obliged to apply to you, to use yourinfluence. 

"MARY ANNE. "

"Well, " said Henry, "Mary Anne is in the right. Confound theirdishonesty: they take the immense advantages the Saw-grinders' Uniongives them, yet they won't pay the weekly contribution, without whichthe Union can't exist. Go and find out who they are, and blow them up. "

"What! me disturb the balmy?"

"Bother the balmy! I can't be worried with such trifles. I'm inventing. "

"But, Mr. Little, would not the best way be for YOU just to stop itquietly and peaceably out of their pay, and send it to Grotait?"

Little, after a moment's reflection, said he had no legal right to dothat. Besides, it was not his business to work the Saw-grinders' Unionfor Grotait. "Who is this Mary Anne?"

"The saw-grinders, to be sure. "

"What, all of them? Poor Mary Anne!"

He then inquired how he was to write back to her. 

"Oh, write under cover to Grotait. He is Mary Anne, to all intents andpurposes. "

"Well, write the jade a curt note, in both our names, and say wedisapprove the conduct of the defaulters, and will signify ourdisapproval to them; but that is all we can do. "

This letter was written, and Bayne made it as oleaginous as languagepermits; and there the matter rested apparently. 

But, as usual, after the polite came the phonetic. Next week Henry got aletter thus worded:--

"MISTER LITL, --If them grinders of yores dosent send their money i shallcom an' fech strings if the devil stans i' t' road. 

"MOONRAKER. "

Mr. Little tossed this epistle contemptuously into the fire, andinvented on. 

Two days after that he came to the works, and found the saw grindersstanding in a group, with their hands in their pockets. 

"Well, lads, what's up?"

"Mary Anne has been here. "

"And two pair of wheel-bands gone. "

"Well, men, you know whose fault it is. "

"Nay, but it is ---- hard my work should be stopped because another manis in arrears with trade. What d'ye think to do, Governor? buy some morebands?"

"Certainly not. I won't pay for your fault. It is a just claim, youknow. Settle it among yourselves. "

With this he retired to his studio. 

When the men saw he did not care a button whether his grindstonesrevolved or not, they soon brought the defaulters to book. Bayne wassent upstairs, to beg Mr. Little to advance the trade contributions, andstep the amount from the defaulters' wages. 

This being settled, Little and Bayne went to the "Cutlers' Arms, " andBayne addressed the barmaid thus, "Can we see Mary Anne?"

"He is shaving. "

"Well, when she is shaved, we shall be in the parlor, tell her. "

In a moment or two Grotait bustled in, wiping his face with a towel ashe came, and welcomed his visitors cordially. "Fine weather, gentlemen. "

Bayne cut that short. "Mr. Grotait, we have lost our bands. "

"You surprise me. "

"And perhaps you can tell us how to get them back. "

"Experience teaches that they always come back when the men pay theirarrears. "

"Well, it is agreed to stop the sum due, out of wages. "

"A very proper course. "

"What is it we have got to pay?"

"How can I tell you without book? Pray, Mr. Little, don't imagine thatI set these matters agate. All I do is to mediate afterward. I'll go andlook at the contribution-book. "

He went out, and soon returned, and told them it was one sovereigncontribution from each man, and five shillings each for Mary Anne. 

"What, for her services in rattening us?" said Little, dryly. 

"And her risk, " suggested Grotait, in dulcet tones. 

Little paid the five pounds, and then asked Grotait for the bands. 

"Good heavens, Mr. Little, do you think I have got your bands?"

"You must excuse Mr. Little, sir, " said Bayne. "He is a stranger, anddoesn't know the comedy. Perhaps you will oblige us with a note where wecan find them. "

"Hum!" said Grotait, with the air of one suddenly illuminated. "What didI hear somebody say about these bands? Hum! Give me an hour or two tomake inquiries. "

"Don't say an hour or two, sir, when the men have got to make up losttime. We will give you a little grace; we will take a walk down street, and perhaps it will come to your recollection. "

"Hum!" said Grotait; and as that was clearly all they were to get out ofhim just then they left and took a turn. 

In half an hour they came back again, and sat down in the parlor. 

Grotait soon joined them. "I've been thinking, " said he, "what a pity itis we can't come to some friendly arrangement with intelligent masters, like Mr. Little, to deduct the natty money every week from the men'swages. "

"Excuse me, " said Bayne, "we are not here for discussion. We want ourbands. "

"Do you doubt that you will get them, sir? Did ever I break faith withmaster or man?"

"No, no, " said the pacific Bayne, alarmed at the sudden sternness ofhis tone. "You are as square as a die--when you get it all your own way. Why, Mr. Little, Cheetham's bands were taken one day, and, when he hadmade the men pay their arrears, he was directed where to find the bands;but, meantime, somebody out of trade had found them, and stolen them. Down came bran-new bands to the wheel directly, and better than we hadlost. And my cousin Godby, that has a water-wheel, was rattened, by hisscythe-blades being flung in the dam. He squared with Mary Anne, andthen he got a letter to say where the blades were. But one was missing. He complained to Mr. Grotait here, and Mr. Grotait put his hand in hispocket directly, and paid the trade-price of the blade--three shillings, I think it was. "

"Yes, " said Grotait; "'but, ' I remember I said at the time, 'you mustnot construe this that I was any way connected with the rattening. ' Butsome are deaf to reason. Hallo!"

"What is the matter, sir?"

"Why, what is that in the fender? Your eyes are younger than mine. "

And Mr. Grotait put up his gold double eyeglass, and looked with markedsurprise and curiosity, at a note that lay in the fender. 

Mr. Bayne had been present at similar comedies, and was not politeenough to indorse Mr. Grotait's surprise. He said, coolly, "It will bethe identical note we are waiting for. " He stooped down and took it outof the fender, and read it. 

"'To Mr. LITTLE, or MR. BAYNE. 

"'GENTLEMEN, --In the bottom hull turn up the horsing, and in thetrough all the missing bands will be found. Apologizing for the littleinterruption, it is satisfactory things are all arranged without damage, and hope all will go agreeably when the rough edge is worn off. Trustingthese nocturnal visits will be no longer necessary, I remain, "'THE SHY MAIDEN. '"

As soon as he had obtained this information, Bayne bustled off; but MaryAnne detained Henry Little, to moralize. 

Said she, "This rattening for trade contributions is the result of badand partial laws. If A contracts with B, and breaks his contract, Bhas no need to ratten A: he can sue him. But if A, being a workman, contracts with B and all the other letters, and breaks his contract, B and all the other letters have no legal remedy. This bad and partiallaw, occurring in a country that has tasted impartial laws, revoltscommon sense and the consciences of men. Whenever this sort of thingoccurs in any civilized country, up starts that pioneer judge we callJudge Lynch; in other words, private men combine, and make theirown laws, to cure the folly of legislatures. And, mark me, if theseirregular laws are unjust, they fail; if they are just, theystand. Rattening could never have stood its ground so many years inHillsborough, if it had not been just, and necessary to the place, underthe partial and iniquitous laws of Great Britain. "

"And pray, " inquired Little, "where is the justice of taking a master'sgear because his paid workman is in your debt?"

"And where is the justice of taking a lodger's goods in execution forthe house-tenant's debt, which debt the said lodger is helping the saidtenant to pay? We must do the best we can. No master is rattened fora workman's fault without several warnings. But the masters will neverco-operate with justice till their bands and screws go. That wakes themup directly. "

"Well, Mr. Grotait, I never knew you worsted in an argument: and thisnut is too hard for my teeth, so I'm off to my work. Ratten me now andthen for your own people's fault, if you are QUITE sure justice andpublic opinion demand it; but no more gunpowder, please. "

"Heaven forbid, Mr. Little. Gunpowder! I abhor it. "

CHAPTER XXV. 

There came a delightful letter from Grace Carden, announcing her returnon a certain evening, and hoping to see Henry next morning. 

He called accordingly, and was received with outstretched hands andsparkling eyes, and words that repaid him for her absence. 

After the first joyful burst, she inquired tenderly why he was so pale:had he been ill?

"No. "

"No trouble nor anxiety, dear?"

"A little, at first, till your sweet letters made me happy. No; I didnot even know that I was pale. Overstudy, I suppose. Inventing is hardwork. "

"What are you inventing?"

"All manner of things. Machine to forge large axes; another to grindcircular saws; a railway clip: but you don't care about such things. "

"I beg your pardon, sir. I care about whatever interests you. "

"Well, these inventions interest me very much. One way or other, theyare roads to fortune; and you know why I desire fortune. "

"Ah, that I do. But excuse me, you value independence more. Oh, Irespect you for it. Only don't make yourself pale, or you will make meunhappy, and a foe to invention. "

On this Mr. Little made himself red instead of pale, and beamed withhappiness. 

They spent a delightful hour together, and, even when they parted, theireyes lingered on each other. 

Soon after this the Cardens gave a dinner-party, and Grace asked if shemight invite Mrs. Little and Mr. Little. 

"What, is he presentable?"

"More than that, " said Grace, coloring. "They are both very superior tomost of our Hillsborough friends. "

"Well, but did you not tell me he had quarreled with Mr. Raby?"

"No, not quarreled. Mr. Raby offered to make him his heir: but hechooses to be independent, and make his own fortune, that's all. "

"Well, if you think our old friend would not take it amiss, invite themby all means. I remember her a lovely woman. "

So the Littles were invited; and the young ladies admired Mr. Little onthe whole, but sneered at him a little for gazing on Miss Carden, asif she was a divinity: the secret, which escaped the father, girlsof seventeen detected in a minute, and sat whispering over it in thedrawing-room. 

After this invitation, Henry and his mother called, and then Gracecalled on Mrs. Little; and this was a great step for Henry, the more soas the ladies really took to each other. 

The course of true love was beginning to run smooth, when it wasdisturbed by Mr. Coventry. 

That gentleman's hopes had revived in London; Grace Carden had beenvery kind and friendly to him, and always in such good spirits, that hethought absence had cured her of Little, and his turn was come again. The most experienced men sometimes mistake a woman in this way. The realfact was that Grace, being happy herself, thanks to a daily letter fromthe man she adored, had not the heart to be unkind to another, whoseonly fault was loving her, and to whom she feared she had not behavedvery well. However, Mr. Coventry did mistake her. He was detainedin town by business, but he wrote Mr. Carden a charming letter, andproposed formally for his daughter's hand. 

Mr. Carden had seen the proposal coming this year and more; so he wasnot surprised; but he was gratified. The letter was put into his handwhile he was dressing for dinner. Of course he did not open the subjectbefore the servants: but, as soon as they had retired, he said, "Grace, I want your attention on a matter of importance. "

Grace stared a little, but said faintly, "Yes, papa, " and all manner ofvague maidenly misgivings crowded through her brain. 

"My child, you are my only one, and the joy of the house; and need I sayI shall feel your loss bitterly whenever your time comes to leave me?"

"Then I never will leave you, " cried Grace, and came and wreathed herarms round his neck. 

He kissed her, and parting her hair, looked with parental fondness ather white brow, and her deep clear eyes. 

"You shall never leave me, for the worse, " said he: "but you are sureto marry some day, and therefore it is my duty to look favorably on adownright good match. Well, my dear, such a match offers itself. I havea proposal for you. "

"I am sorry to hear it. "

"Wait till you hear who it is. It is Mr. Coventry, of Bollinghope. "

Grace sighed, and looked very uncomfortable. 

"Why, what is the matter? you always used to like him. "

"So I do now; but not for a husband. "

"I see no one to whom I could resign you so willingly. He is well bornand connected, has a good estate, not too far from your poor father. "

"Dear papa!"

"He speaks pure English: now these Hillsborough manufacturers, withtheir provincial twang, are hardly presentable in London society. "

"Dear papa, Mr. Coventry is an accomplished gentleman, who has doneme the highest honor he can. You must decline him very politely: but, between ourselves, I am a little angry with him, because he knows I donot love him; and I am afraid he has made this offer to YOU, thinkingyou might be tempted to constrain my affections: but you won't do that, my own papa, will you? you will not make your child unhappy, who lovesyou?"

"No, no. I will never let you make an imprudent match; but I won't forceyou into a good one. "

"And you know I shall never marry without your consent, papa. But I'monly nineteen, and I don't want to be driven away to Bollinghope. "

"And I'm sure I don't want to drive you away anywhere. Mine will be adull, miserable home without you. Only please tell me what to say tohim. "

"Oh, I leave that to you. I have often admired the way you soften yourrefusals. 'Le seigneur Jupiter sait dorer la pillule'--there, that'sMoliere. "

"Well, I suppose I must say--"

"Let me see what HE says first. "

She scanned the letter closely, to see whether there was any thing thatcould point to Henry Little. But there was not a word to indicate hefeared a rival, though the letter was any thing but presumptuous. 

Then Grace coaxed her father, and told him she feared her inexperiencehad made her indiscreet. She had liked Mr. Coventry's conversation, and perhaps had, inadvertently, given him more encouragement than sheintended: would he be a good, kind papa, and get her out of the scrape, as creditably as he could? She relied on his superior wisdom. So then hekissed her, and said he would do his best. 

He wrote a kind, smooth letter, gilding and double-gilding the pill. Hesaid, amongst the rest, that there appeared to be no ground of refusal, except a strong disinclination to enter the wedded state. "I believethere is no one she likes as well as you; and, as for myself, I know nogentleman to whom I would so gladly confide my daughter's happiness, "etc. , etc. 

He handed this letter to his daughter to read, but she refused. "I haveimplicit confidence in you, " said she. 

Mr. Coventry acknowledged receipt of the letter, thanked Mr. Carden forthe kind and feeling way in which he had inflicted the wound, and saidthat he had a verbal communication to make before he could quite dropthe matter; would be down in about a fort-night. 

Soon after this Grace dined with Mrs. Little: and, the week after that, Henry contrived to meet her at a ball, and, after waiting patiently sometime, he waltzed with her. 

This waltz was another era in their love. It was an inspired whirl oftwo lovers, whose feet hardly felt the ground, and whose hearts boundedand thrilled, and their cheeks glowed, and their eyes shot fire; andwhen Grace was obliged to stop, because the others stopped, her elasticand tense frame turned supple and soft directly, and she still let hereyes linger on his, and her hand nestle in his a moment: this, and afaint sigh of pleasure and tenderness, revealed how sweet her partnerwas to her. 

Need I say the first waltz was not the last? and that evening they weremore in love than ever, if possible. 

Mr. Coventry came down from London, and, late that evening, he and Mr. Carden met at the Club. 

Mr. Carden found him in an arm-chair, looking careworn and unhappy, and felt quite sorry for him. He hardly knew what to say to him; butCoventry with his usual grace relieved him; he rose, and shook hands, and even pressed Mr. Carden's hand, and held it. 

Mr. Carden was so touched, that he pressed his hand in return, and said, "Courage! my poor fellow; the case is not desperate, you know. "

Mr. Coventry shook his head, and sat down. Mr. Carden sat down besidehim. 

"Why, Coventry, it is not as if there was another attachment. "

"There IS another attachment; at least I have too much reason to fearso. But you shall judge for yourself. I have long paid my respectfuladdresses to Miss Carden, and I may say without vanity that she usedto distinguish me beyond her other admirers; I was not the only one whothought so; Mr. Raby has seen us together, and he asked me to meet herat Raby Hall. There I became more particular in my attentions, and thoseattentions, sir, were well received. "

"But were they UNDERSTOOD? that is the question. "

"Understood and received, upon my honor. "

"Then she will marry you, soon or late: for I'm sure there is no otherman. Grace was never deceitful. "

"All women are deceitful. "

"Oh, come!"

"Let me explain: all women, worthy of the name, are cowards; andcowardice drives them to deceit, even against their will. Pray bear meto an end. On the fifth of last December, I took Miss Carden to the topof Cairnhope hill. I showed her Bollinghope in the valley, and asked herto be its mistress. "

"And what did she say? Yes, or no?"

"She made certain faint objections, such as a sweet, modest girl likeher makes as a matter of course, and then she yielded. "

"What! consented to be your wife?"

"Not in those very words; but she said she esteemed me, and she knew Iloved her; and, when I asked her whether I might speak to you, she said'Yes. '"

"But that was as good as accepting you. "

"I am glad you agree with me. You know, Mr. Carden, thousands have beenaccepted in that very form. Well, sir, the next thing was we were caughtin that cursed snow-storm. "

"Yes, she has told me all about that. "

"Not all, I suspect. We got separated for a few minutes, and I found herin an old ruined church, where a sort of blacksmith was working at hisforge. I found her, sir, I might say almost in the blacksmith's arms. Ithought little of that at first: any man has a right to succor any womanin distress: but, sir, I discovered that Miss Carden and this man wereacquaintances: and, by degrees, I found, to my horror, that he had aterrible power over her. "

"What do you mean, sir? Do you intend to affront us?"

"No. And, if the truth gives you pain, pray remember it gives meagony. However, I must tell you the man was not what he looked, a mereblacksmith; he is a sort of Proteus, who can take all manner of shapes:at the time I'm speaking of, he was a maker of carving tools. Well, sir, you could hardly believe the effect of this accidental interview withthat man: the next day, when I renewed my addresses, Miss Carden evadedme, and was as cold as she had been kind: she insisted on it she was notengaged to me, and said she would not marry anybody for two years; andthis, I am sorry to say, was not her own idea, but this Little's; for Ioverheard him ask her to wait two years for him. "

"Little! What, Raby's new nephew?"

"That is the man. "

Mr. Carden was visibly discomposed by this communication. He didnot choose to tell Coventry how shocked he was at his own daughter'sconduct; but, after a considerable pause, he said, "If what you havetold me is the exact truth, I shall interpose parental authority, andshe shall keep her engagement with you, in spite of all the Littles inthe world. "

"Pray do not be harsh, " said Coventry. 

"No, but I shall be firm. "

"Insanity in his family, for one thing, " suggested Coventry, scarcelyabove a whisper. 

"That is true; his father committed suicide. But really thatconsideration is not needed. My daughter must keep her engagements, as Ikeep mine. "

With this understanding the friends parted. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Grace happened to have a headache next morning, and did not come down tobreakfast: but it was Saturday, and Mr. Carden always lunched at home onthat day. So did Grace, because it was one of Little's days. This gaveMr. Carden the opportunity he wanted. When they were alone he fixedhis eyes on his daughter, and said quietly, "What is your opinion of--ajilt?"

"A heartless, abominable creature, " replied Grace, as glibly as if shewas repeating some familiar catechism. 

"Would you like to be called one?"

"Oh, papa!"

"Is there nobody who has the right to apply the term to you?"

"I hope not. " (Red. )

"You encouraged Mr. Coventry's addresses?"

"I am afraid I did not discourage them, as I wish I had. It is so hardto foresee every thing. "

"Pray do you remember the fifth day of last December?"

"Can I ever forget it?" (Redder. )

"Is it true that Mr. Coventry proposed for you, that day?"

"Yes. "

"And you accepted him. "

"No; no. Then he has told you so? How ungenerous! All I did was, Ihesitated, and cried, and didn't say 'no, ' downright--like a fool. Oh, papa, have pity on me, and save me. " And now she was pale. 

Mr. Carden's paternal heart was touched by this appeal, but he wasdetermined to know the whole truth. "You could love him, in time, Isuppose?"

"Never. "

"Why?"

"Because--"

"Now tell me the truth. Have you another attachment?"

"Yes, dear papa. " (In a whisper and as red as fire. )

"Somebody of whom you are not proud. "

"I AM proud of him. He is Mr. Coventry's superior. He is everybody'ssuperior in everything in the world. "

"No, Grace, you can hardly be proud of your attachment; if you had been, you would not have hidden it all this time from your father. " And Mr. Carden sighed. 

Grace burst out crying, and flung herself on her knees and clung, sobbing, to him. 

"There, there, " said he, "I don't want to reproach you; but to adviseyou. "

"Oh, papa! Take and kill me. Do: I want to die. "

"Foolish child! Be calm now; and let us talk sense. "

At this moment there was a peculiar ring at the door, a ring notviolent, but vigorous. 

Grace started and looked terrified: "Papa!" said she, "say what youlike to me, but do not affront HIM; for you might just as well take thatknife and stab your daughter to the heart. I love him so. Have pity onme. "

The servant announced "Mr. Little!"

Grace started up, and stood with her hand gripping the chair; hercheek was pale, and her eyes glittered; she looked wild, and evidentlystrained up to defend her lover. 

All this did not escape Mr. Carden. He said gently, "Show him into thelibrary. " Then to Grace as soon as the servant had retired, "Come here, my child. "

She knelt at his knees again, and turned her imploring, streaming eyesup to him. 

"Is it really so serious as all this?"

"Papa, words cannot tell you how I love. But if you affront him, and heleaves me, you will see how I love him; you will know, by my grave-side, how I love him. "

"Then I suppose I must swallow my disappointment how I can. "

"It shall be no disappointment; he will do you honor and me too. "

"But he can't make a settlement on his wife, and no man shall marry mydaughter till he can do that. "

"We can wait, " said Grace, humbly. 

"Yes, wait--till you and your love are both worn out. "

"I shall wear out before my love. "

Mr. Carden looked at her, as she knelt before him, and his heart wasvery much softened. "Will you listen to reason at all?" said he. 

"From you, I will, dear papa. " She added, swiftly, "and then you willlisten to affection, will you not?"

"Yes. Promise me there shall be no formal engagement, and I will let himcome now and then. "

This proposal, though not very pleasant, relieved Grace of such terriblefears, that she consented eagerly. 

Mr. Carden then kissed her, and rose, to go to young Little; but, before he had taken three steps, she caught him by the arm, and said, imploringly, "Pray remember while you are speaking to him that you wouldnot have me to bestow on any man but for him; for he saved my life, andMr. Coventry's too. Mr. Coventry forgets that: but don't you: and, ifyou wound him, you wound me; he carries my heart in his bosom. "

Mr. Carden promised he would do his duty as kindly as possible; and withthat Grace was obliged to content herself. 

When he opened the library door, young Little started up, his faceirradiated with joy. Mr. Carden smiled a little satirically, but he wasnot altogether untouched by the eloquent love for his daughter, thusshowing itself in a very handsome and amiable face. He said, "It is notthe daughter this time, sir, it is only the father. "

Little colored up and looked very uneasy. 

"Mr. Little, I am told you pay your addresses to Miss Carden. Is thatso?"

"Yes, sir. "

"You have never given me any intimation. "

Little colored still more. He replied, with some hesitation, "Why, sir, you see I was brought up amongst workmen, and they court the girl first, and make sure of her, before they trouble the parents; and, besides, itwas not ripe for your eye yet. "

"Why not?"

"Because I'm no match for Miss Carden. But I hope to be, some day. "

"And she is to wait for you till then?"

"She says she will. "

"Well, Mr. Little, this is a delicate matter; but you are astraightforward man, I see, and it is the best way. Now I must do myduty as a parent, and I am afraid I shall not be able to do that withoutmortifying you a little; but believe me, it is not from any dislike ordisrespect to you, but only because it IS my duty. "

"I am much obliged to you, sir; and I'll bear more from you than I wouldfrom any other man. You are her father, and I hope you'll be mine oneday. "

"Well, then, Mr. Little, I always thought my daughter would marry agentleman in this neighborhood, who has paid her great attention foryears, and is a very suitable match for her. You are the cause ofthat match being broken off, and I am disappointed. But although I amdisappointed, I will not be harsh nor unreasonable to you. All I say isthis: my daughter shall never marry any man, nor engage herself to anyman, who cannot make a proper settlement on her. Can YOU make a propersettlement on her?"

"Not at present, " said Little, with a sigh. 

"Then I put it to you, as a man, is it fair of you to pay her openattentions, and compromise her? You must not think me very mercenary; Iam not the man to give my daughter to the highest bidder. But there is amedium. "

"I understand you, sir, so far. But what am I to do? Am I to leave offloving, and hoping, and working, and inventing? You might as well tellme to leave off living. "

"No, my poor boy; I don't say that, neither. If it is really for her youwork, and invent, and struggle with fortune so nobly as I know you do, persevere, and may God speed you. But, meantime, be generous, and don'tthrow yourself in her way to compromise her. "

The young man was overpowered by the kindness and firmness of hissenior, who was also Grace's father. He said, in a choking voice, therewas no self-denial he would not submit to, if it was understood that hemight still love Grace, and might marry her as soon as he could make aproper settlement on her. 

Then Mr. Carden, on his part, went further than he had intended, andassented distinctly to all this, provided the delay was not unreasonablein point of time. "I can't have her whole life wasted. "

"Give me two years: I'll win her or lose her in that time. " He thenasked, piteously, if he might see her. 

"I am sorry to say No to that, " was the reply; "but she has been alreadyvery much agitated, and I should be glad to spare her further emotion. You need not doubt her attachment to you, nor my esteem. You are a veryworthy, honest young man, and your conduct does much to reconcile me towhat I own is a disappointment. "

Having thus gilded the pill, Mr. Carden shook hands with Henry Little, and conducted him politely to the street door. 

The young man went away slowly; for he was disconsolate at not seeingGrace. 

But, when he got home, his stout Anglo-Saxon heart reacted, and he facedthe situation. 

He went to his mother and told her what had passed. She colored withindignation, but said nothing. 

"Well, mother, of course it might be better; but then it might be worse. It's my own fault now if I lose her. Cutlery won't do it in the time, but Invention will: so, from this hour, I'm a practical inventor, andnothing but death shall stop me. "

CHAPTER XXVII. 

Grace Carden ran to the window, and saw Henry Little go away slowly, and hanging his head. This visible dejection in her manly lover madeher heart rise to her throat, and she burst out sobbing and weeping withalarming violence. 

Mr. Carden found her in this state, and set himself to soothe her. Hetold her the understanding he had come to with Mr. Little, and beggedher to be as reasonable and as patient as her lover was. But the appealwas not successful. "He came to see me, " she cried, "and he has goneaway without seeing me. You have begun to break both our hearts, withyour reason and your prudence. One comfort, mine will break first; Ihave not his fortitude. Oh, my poor Henry! He has gone away, hanginghis head, broken-hearted: that is what you have DONE for me. After that, what are words? Air--air--and you can't feed hungry hearts with air. "

"Well, my child, I am sorry now I did not bring him in here. But Ireally did it for the best. I wished to spare you further agitation. "

"Agitation!" And she opened her eyes with astonishment. "Why, it isyou who agitate me. He would have soothed me in a moment. One kind andhopeful word from him, one tender glance of his dear eye, one pressureof his dear hard hand, and I could have borne anything; but that drop ofcomfort you denied us both. Oh, cruel! cruel!"

"Calm yourself, Grace, and remember whom you are speaking to. It was anerror in judgment, perhaps--nothing more. "

"But, then, if you know nothing about love, and its soothing power, whymeddle with it at all?"

"Grace, " said Mr. Carden, sadly, but firmly, "we poor parents are allprepared for this. After many years of love and tenderness bestowedon our offspring, the day is sure to come when the young thing we havereared with so much care and tenderness will meet a person of her ownage, a STRANGER; and, in a month or two, all our love, our care, ouranxiety, our hopes, will be nothing in the balance. This wound is instore for us all. We foresee it; we receive it; we groan under it; weforgive it. We go patiently on, and still give our ungrateful childrenthe benefit of our love and our experience. I have seen in my own familythat horrible mixture, Gentility and Poverty. In our class of life, poverty is not only poverty, it is misery, and meanness as well. Myincome dies with me. My daughter and her children shall not go back tothe misery and meanness out of which I have struggled. They shall besecured against it by law, before she marries, or she shall marry underher father's curse. "

Then Grace was frightened, and said she should never marry under herfather's curse; but (with a fresh burst of weeping) what need was thereto send Henry away without seeing her, and letting them comfort eachother under this sudden affliction? "Ah, I was too happy this morning, "said the poor girl. "I was singing before breakfast. Jael always told menot to do that. Oh! oh! oh!"

Mr. Carden kept silence; but his fortitude was sorely tried. 

That day Grace pleaded headache, and did not appear to dinner. Mr. Carden dined alone, and missed her bright face sadly. He sent his loveto her, and went off to the club, not very happy. At the club he met Mr. Coventry, and told him frankly what he had done. Mr. Coventry, to hissurprise, thanked him warmly. "She will be mine in two years, " said he. "Little will never be able to make a settlement on her. " This remark setMr. Carden thinking. 

Grace watched the window day after day, but Henry never came nor passed. She went a great deal more than usual into the town, in hopes of meetinghim by the purest accident. She longed to call on Mrs. Little, butfeminine instinct withheld her; she divined that Mrs. Little must bedeeply offended. 

She fretted for a sight of Henry, and for an explanation, in whichshe might clear herself, and show her love, without being in the leastdisobedient to her father. Now all this was too subtle to be written. Soshe fretted and pined for a meeting. 

While she was in this condition, and losing color every day, who shouldcall one day--to reconnoiter, I suppose--but Mr. Coventry. 

Grace was lying on the sofa, languid and distraite, when he wasannounced. She sat up directly, and her eye kindled. 

Mr. Coventry came in with his usual grace and cat-like step. "Ah, MissCarden!"

Miss Carden rose majestically to her feet, made him a formal courtesy, and swept out of the room, without deigning him a word. She went to thestudy, and said, "Papa, here's a friend of yours--Mr. Coventry. "

"Dear me, I am very busy. I wish you would amuse him for a few minutestill I have finished this letter. "

"Excuse me, papa; I cannot stay in the same room with Mr. Coventry. "

"Why not, pray?"

"He is a dangerous man: he compromises one. He offered me anengagement-ring, and I refused it; yet he made you believe we wereengaged. You have taken care I shall not be compromised with the manI love; and shall I be compromised with the man I don't care for? No, thank you. "

"Very well, Grace, " said Mr. Carden, coldly. 

Shortly after this Mr. Carden requested Dr. Amboyne to call; he receivedthe doctor in his study, and told him that he was beginning to be uneasyabout Grace; she was losing her appetite, her color, and her spirits. Should he send her to the seaside?

"The seaside! I distrust conventional remedies. Let me see the patient. "

He entered the room and found her coloring a figure she had drawn: itwas a beautiful woman, with an anchor at her feet. The door was open, and the doctor, entering softly, saw a tear fall on the work from a faceso pale and worn with pining, that he could hardly repress a start; hedid repress it though, for starts are unprofessional; he shook handswith her in his usual way. "Sorry to hear you are indisposed, my dearMiss Grace. " He then examined her tongue, and felt her pulse; and thenhe sat down, right before her, and fixed his eyes on her. "How long haveyou been unwell?"

"I am not unwell that I know of, " said Grace, a little sullenly. 

"One reason I ask, I have another patient, who has been attackedsomewhat in the same way. "

Grace colored, and fixed a searching eye on the doctor. "Do I know thelady?"

"No. For it happens to be a male patient. "

"Perhaps it is going about. "

"Possibly; this is the age of competition. Still it is hard you can'thave a little malady of this kind all to yourself; don't you think so?"

At this Grace laughed hysterically. 

"Come, none of that before me, " said the doctor sternly. 

She stopped directly, frightened. The doctor smiled. 

Mr. Carden peeped in from his study. "When you have done with her, comeand prescribe for me. I am a little out of sorts too. " With this, heretired. "That means you are to go and tell him what is the matter withme, " said Grace bitterly. 

"Is his curiosity unjustifiable?"

"Oh no. Poor papa!" Then she asked him dryly if he knew what was thematter with her. 

"I think I do. "

"Then cure me. " This with haughty incredulity. 

"I'll try; and a man can but do his best. I'll tell you one thing: if Ican't cure you, no doctor in the world can: see how modest I am. Now forpapa. "

She let him go to the very door: and then a meek little timid voicesaid, in a scarce audible murmur, "Doctor!"

Now when this meek murmur issued from a young lady who had, up to thisperiod of the interview, been rather cold and cutting, the sagaciousdoctor smiled. "My dear?" said he, in a very gentle voice. 

"Doctor! about your other patient!"

"Well?"

"Is he as bad as I am? For indeed, my dear friend, I feel--my food hasno taste--life itself no savor. I used to go singing, now I sit sighing. Is he as bad as I am?"

"I'll tell you the truth; his malady is as strong as yours; but hehas the great advantage of being a man; and, again, of being a man ofbrains. He is a worker, and an inventor; and now, instead of succumbingtamely to his disorder, he is working double tides, and inventing withall his might, in order to remove an obstacle between him and one heloves with all his manly soul. A contest so noble and so perpetualsustains and fortifies the mind. He is indomitable; only, at times, hisheart of steel will soften, and then he has fits of deep dejectionand depression, which I mourn to see; for his manly virtues, and hislikeness to one I loved deeply in my youth, have made him dear to me. "

During this Grace turned her head away, and, ere the doctor ended, hertears were flowing freely; for to her, being a woman, this portrait of amale struggle with sorrow was far more touching than any descriptionof feminine and unresisted grief could be: and, when the doctor said heloved his patient, she stole her little hand into his in a way to meltOld Nick, if he is a male. Ladies, forgive the unchivalrous doubt. 

"Doctor, " said she, affecting all of a sudden a little air of smallsprightliness, very small, "now, do--you--think--it would do yourpatient--the least good in the world--if you were to take him this?"

She handed him her work, and then she blushed divinely. 

"Why, it is a figure of Hope. "

"Yes. "

"I think it might do him a great deal of good. "

"You could say I painted it for him. "

"So I will. That will do him no harm neither. Shall I say I found youcrying over it?"

"Oh, no! no! That would make him cry too, perhaps. "

"Ah, I forgot that. Grace, you are an angel. "

"Ah, no. But you can tell him I am--if you think so. That will do him nogreat harm--will it?"

"Not an atom to him; but it will subject me to a pinch for stale news. There, give me my patient's picture, and let me go. "

She kissed the little picture half-furtively, and gave it him, and lethim go; only, as he went out at the door, she murmured, "Come often. "

Now, when this artful doctor got outside the door, his face became graveall of a sudden, for he had seen enough to give him a degree of anxietyhe had not betrayed to his interesting patient herself. 

"Well, doctor?" said Mr. Carden, affecting more cheerfulness than hefelt. "Nothing there beyond your skill, I suppose?"

"Her health is declining rapidly. Pale, hollow-eyed, listless, languid--not the same girl. "

"Is it bodily do you think, or only mental?"

"Mental as to its cause; but bodily in the result. The two thingsare connected in all of us, and very closely in Miss Carden. Herorganization is fine, and, therefore, subtle. She is tuned in a highkey. Her sensibility is great; and tough folk, like you and me, mustbegin by putting ourselves in her place before we prescribe for her, otherwise our harsh hands may crush a beautiful, but too tender, flower. "

"Good heavens!" said Carden, beginning to be seriously alarmed, "do youmean to say you think, if this goes on, she will be in any danger?"

"Why, if it were to go on at the same rate, it would be very serious. She must have lost a stone in weight already. "

"What, my child! my sweet Grace! Is it possible her life--"

"And do you think your daughter is not mortal like other people? Theyoung girls that are carried past your door to the churchyard one afteranother, had they no fathers?"

At this blunt speech the father trembled from head to foot. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

"Doctor, " said Mr. Carden, "you are an old friend, and a discreet man; Iwill confide the truth to you. "

"You may save yourself the trouble. I have watched the whole progressof this amour up to the moment when you gave them the advantage of yourpaternal wisdom, and made them both miserable. "

"It is very unreasonable of them, to be miserable. "

"Oh, lovers parted could never yet make themselves happy with reason. "

"But why do you say parted? All I said was, 'No engagement till you canmake a settlement: and don't compromise her in the meanwhile. ' I did notmean to interdict occasional visits. "

"Then why not say so? That is so like people. You made your unfavorablestipulation plain enough; but the little bit of comfort, you left thatin doubt. This comes of not putting yourself in his place. I have hada talk with him about it, and he thinks he is not to show his face heretill he is rich enough to purchase your daughter of you. "

"But I tell you he has misunderstood me. "

"Then write to him and say so. "

"No, no; you take an opportunity to let him know he has really ratheroverrated my severity, and that I trust to his honor, and do not objectto a visit--say once a week. "

"It is a commission I will undertake with pleasure. "

"And do you really think that will do her bodily health any good?"

Before Doctor Amboyne could reply, the piano was suddenly touched in thenext room, and a sweet voice began to sing a cheerful melody. "Hush!"said Doctor Amboyne. "Surely I know that tune. Yes, I have heard THEOTHER whistle it. "

"She has not sung for ever so long, " remarked Mr. Carden. 

"And I think I can tell you why she is singing now: look at thispicture of Hope; I just told her I had a male patient afflicted with hercomplaint, and the quick-witted creature asked me directly if I thoughtthis picture would do him any good. I said yes, and I'd take it to him. "

"Come, doctor, that couldn't make her SING. "

"Why not? Heart can speak to heart, even by a flower or a picture. Theseparation was complete; sending this symbol has broken it a little, and so she is singing. This is a lesson for us ruder and less subtlespirits. Now mind, thwarted love seldom kills a busy man; but it oftenkills an idle woman, and your daughter is an idle woman. He is an ironpot, she is a china vase. Please don't hit them too hard with the hammerof paternal wisdom, or you will dent my iron pot, and break your chinavase to atoms. "

Having administered this warning, Dr. Amboyne went straight fromWoodbine Villa to Little's factory; but Little was still in London; hehad gone there to take out patents. Bayne promised to send the doctor aline immediately on his return. Nevertheless, a fortnight elapsed, and then Dr. Amboyne received a short, mysterious line to tell him Mr. Little had come home, and would be all the better of a visit. On receiptof this the doctor went at once to the works, and found young Littlelying on his carpenter's bench in a sort of gloomy apathy. "Hallo!" saidthe doctor, in his cheerful way, "why what's the matter now?"

"I'm fairly crushed, " groaned the inventor. 

"And what has crushed you?"

"The roundabout swindle. "

"There, now, he invents words as well as things. Come, tell me all aboutthe roundabout swindle. "

"No, no; I haven't the heart left to go through it all again, even inwords. One would think an inventor was the enemy of the human race. Yes, I will tell you; the sight of you has revived me a bit; it always does. Well, then, you know I am driven to invention now; it is my only chance;and, ever since Mr. Carden spoke to me, I have given my whole soul tothe best way of saw-grinding by machinery. The circular saws beat me fora while, but I mastered them; see, there's the model. I'm going to burnit this very afternoon. Well, a month ago, I took the other model--thelong-saw grinder--up to London, to patent the invention, as youadvised me. I thought I'd just have to exhibit the model, and lodge thedescription in some Government office, and pay a fee, of course, tosome swell, and so be quit of it. Lord bless you--first I had to lay thespecification before the Court of Chancery, and write a petition to theQueen, and pay, and, what is worse, wait. When I had paid and waited, I got my petition signed, not by the Queen, but by some go-between, andthen I must take it to the Attorney-general. He made me pay--and wait. When I had waited ever so long, I was sent back to where I had comefrom--the Home Office. But even then I could not get to the Queen. Another of her go-betweens nailed me, and made me pay, and wait: theselocusts steal your time as well as your money. At last, a copy of a copyof a copy of my patent got to the Queen, and she signed it like a ladyat once, and I got it back. Then I thought I was all right. Not a bitof it: the Queen's signature wasn't good till another of her go-betweenshad signed it. I think it was the Home Secretary this time. Thisgo-between bled me again, and sent me with my hard-earned signaturesto the Patent Office. There they drafted, and copied, and docketed, androbbed me of more time and money. And, when all was done, I had to takethe document back to one of the old go-betweens that I hoped I hadworn out, the Attorney-general. He signed, and bled me out of some moremoney. From him to the other go-betweens at Whitehall. From them tothe Stamp Office, if I remember right, and oh Lord, didn't I fall amongleeches there? They drafted, they copied, they engrossed, they juggledme out of time and money without end. The first leech was calledthe Lord Keeper of the Seal; the second leech was called the LordChancellor; it was some go-between that acted in his name; the thirdleech was the Clerk of the Patents. They demanded more copies, and thenemployed more go-betweens to charge ten times the value of a copy, andnailed the balance, no doubt. 'Stand and deliver thirty pounds forthis stamp. ' 'Stand and deliver to me that call myself the Chancellor'spurse-bearer--and there's no such creature--two guineas. ' 'Stand anddeliver seven, thirteen, to the clerk of the Hanaper'--and there'sno such thing as a Hanaper. 'Stand and deliver three, five, ' to ago-between that calls himself the Lord Chancellor again, and isn't. 'Stand and deliver six, naught, to a go-between that acts for thedeputy, that ought to put a bit of sealing-wax on the patent, but hasn'tthe brains to do it himself, so you must pay ME a fancy price for doingit, and then I won't do it; it will be done by a clerk at twenty-fiveshillings a week. ' And, all this time, mind you, no disposition tosoften all this official peculation by civility; no misgiving that thenext wave of civilization may sweep nil these go-betweens and leechesout of the path of progress; no, the deputy-vice-go-betweens allscowled, as well as swindled: they broke my heart so, often I sat downin their antechambers and the scalding tears ran down my cheeks, atbeing pillaged of my time as well as my money, and treated like acriminal--for what? For being, in my small way, a national benefactor. "

"Ay, " said the doctor, "you had committed the crime of brains; and theworse crime of declining to be starved in return for them. I don't rebelagainst the fees so much: their only fault is that they are too heavy, since the monopoly they profess to secure is short-lived, and yet notvery secure; the Lord Chancellor, as a judge, has often to upset thepatent which he has sold in another character. But that system ofgo-betweens, and deputy-go-betweens, and deputy-lieutenant-go-betweensand nobody doing his own business in matters of State, it really is anational curse, and a great blot upon the national intellect. It is adisease; so let us name it. We doctors are great at naming diseases;greater than at curing them. 

 "'Let us call it VICARIA, This English malaria. '

"Of this Vicaria, the loss of time and money you have suffered is onlyone of the fruits, I think. "

"All I know is, they made my life hell for more than a month; and ifI have ever the misfortune to invent any thing more, I'll keep it tomyself. I'll hide it, like any other crime. But no; I never will inventanother thing: never, never. "

"Stuff! Methinks I hear a duck abjure natation. You can't helpinventing. "

"I will help it. What, do you think I'll be such an ass as to haveBrains in a country where Brains are a crime? Doctor, I'm in despair. "

"Then it is time to cast your eyes over this little picture. "

The inventor turned the little picture listlessly about. "It is a woman, with an anchor. It's a figure of Hope. "

"Beautifully painted, is it not?"

"The tints are well laid on: but, if you'll excuse me, it is ratherflat. " He laid the picture down, and turned away from it. "Ah, Hope, mylass, you've come to the wrong shop. "

"Not she. She was painted expressly for you, and by a very beautifulgirl. "

"Oh, doctor, not by--"

"Yes; she sends it you. "

"Ah!" And he caught Hope up, and began to devour her with kisses, andhis eyes sparkled finely. 

"I have some good news, too, for you. Mr. Carden tells me he neverintended to separate you entirely from his daughter. If you can bemoderate, discreet, old before your time, etc. , and come only aboutonce a week, and not compromise her publicly, you will be as welcome asever. "

"That IS good news, indeed. I'll go there this very day; and I'll patentthe circular saw. "

"There's a non-sequitur for you!"

"Nothing of the kind, sir. Why, even the Queen's go-betweens will neverdaunt me, now I can go and drink love and courage direct from HER eyes;and nothing can chill nor discourage me now. I'll light my forge againand go to work, and make a few sets of carving-tools, and that will paythe go-betweens for patenting my circular-saw grinder. But first I'llput on my coat and go to heaven. "

"Had you not better postpone that till the end of your brilliant careeras an inventor and a lover?"

"No; I thirst for heaven, and I'll drink it. " So he made his toilet, thanked and blessed the good doctor, and off to Woodbine Villa. 

Grace Carden saw him coming, and opened the door to him herself, red asscarlet, and her eyes swimming. She scarcely made an effort to containherself by this time, and when she got him into the drawing-room allto herself, she cried, for joy and tenderness, on his shoulder; and, itcost him a gulp or two, I can tell you: and they sat hand in hand, and were never tired of gazing at each other; and the hours flew byunheeded. All their trouble was as though it had never been. Lovebrightened the present, the future, and even the past. He did not tellGrace one word of what he had suffered from Vicaria--I thank thee, doctor, for teaching me that word--it had lost all interest to him. Loveand happiness had annihilated its true character--like the afternoon sungilding a far-off pig-sty. He did mention the subject, however, but itwas in these terms: "And, dearest, I'm hard at work inventing, and Ipatent all my inventions; so I hope to satisfy your father before twoyears. "

And Grace said, "Yes; but don't overwork your poor brain and worryyourself. I am yours in heart, and that is something, I hope. I know itis to me; I wouldn't change with any wife in Christendom. "

CHAPTER XXIX. 

At the end of two months the situation of affairs was as follows:

Grace Carden received a visit every week from Henry, and met him now andthen at other houses: she recovered her health and spirits, and, being of a patient sex, was quite contented, and even happy. FrederickCoventry visited her often, and she received his visits quitegraciously, now that the man she loved was no longer driven from her. She even pitied him, and was kind to him and had misgivings that shehad used him ill. This feeling he fostered, by a tender, dejected, andinoffensive manner. Boiling with rage inside, this consummate actorhad the art to feign resignation; whereas, in reality, he was secretlywatching for an opportunity to injure his rival. But no such opportunitycame. 

Little, in humble imitation of his sovereign, had employed a go-betweento employ a go-between, to deal with the State go-betweens, anddeputy-go-betweens, that hampered the purchase--the word "grant" is outof place, bleeding is no boon--of a patent from the crown, and bythis means he had done, in sixty days, what a true inventor will do intwenty-four hours, whenever the various metallic ages shall be succeededby the age of reason; he had secured his two saw-grinding inventions, bypatent, in Great Britain, the Canadas, and the United States of America. He had another invention perfected; it was for forging axes andhatchets by machinery: but this he did not patent: he hoped to find hisremuneration in the prior use of it for a few months. Mere priority issometimes a great advantage in this class of invention, and there are nofees to pay for it nor deputy-lieutenant-vice-go-betweens' antechambersfor genius to cool its heels and heart in. 

But one thing soon became evident. He could not work his inventionswithout a much larger capital. 

Dr. Amboyne and he put their heads together over this difficulty, andthe doctor advised him in a more erudite style than usual. 

"True invention, " said he, "whether literary or mechanical, is thehighest and hardest effort of the mind. It is an operation so absorbingthat it often weakens those pettier talents which make what we call theclever man. Therefore the inventor should ally himself with some personof talent and energy, but no invention. Thus supported, he can have hisfits of abstraction, his headaches, his heartaches, his exultations, hisdepressions, and no harm done; his dogged associate will plow steadilyon all the time. So, after all, your requiring capital is no greatmisfortune; you must look out for a working capitalist. No sleepingpartner will serve your turn; what you want is a good rich, vulgar, energetic man, the pachydermatouser the better. "

Henry acted on this advice, and went to London in search of a moneyedpartner. Oh, then it was he learned--

"The hell it is in suing long to bide. "

He found capitalists particularly averse to speculate in a patent. Ittook him many days to find out what moneyed men were open to that sortof thing at all; and, when he got to them, they were cold. 

They had all been recently bitten by harebrained inventors. 

Then he represented that it was a matter of judgment, and offeredto prove by figures that his saw-grinding machines must return threehundred per cent. These he applied to would not take the trouble tostudy his figures. In another words, he came at the wrong time. And thewrong time is as bad as the wrong thing, or worse. 

Take a note of that, please: and then forget it. 

At last he gave up London in despair, and started for Birmingham. 

The train stepped at Tring, and, as it was going on again, a manran toward the third-class carriage Little was seated in. One of theservants of the company tried to stop him, very properly. He struggledwith that official, and eventually shook him off. Meantime the train wasaccelerating its pace. In spite of that, this personage made a run anda bound, and, half leaping, half scrambling, got his head and shouldersover the door, and there oscillated, till Little grabbed him withboth hands, and drew him powerfully in, and admonished him. "That is afoolhardy trick, sir, begging your pardon. "

"Young man, " panted the invader, "do you know who you're a-speaking to?"

"No. The Emperor of China?"

"No such trash; it's Ben Bolt, a man that's bad to beat. "

"Well, you'll get beat some day, if you go jumping in and out of trainsin motion. "

"A many have been killed that way, " suggested a huge woman in the cornerwith the meekest and most timid voice imaginable. 

Mr. Bolt eyed the speaker with a humorous voice. "Well, if I'm everkilled that way, I'll send you a letter by the post. Got a sweetheart, ma'am?"

"I've got a good husband, sir, " said she, with mild dignity, and pointedto a thin, sour personage opposite, with his nose in a newspaper. Deepin some public question, he ignored this little private inquiry. 

"That's unlucky, " said Bolt, "for here am I, just landed from Victoria, and money in both pockets. And where do you think I am going now? toChester, to see my father and mother, and show them I was right afterall. They wanted me to go to school; I wouldn't. Leathered me; I howled, but wouldn't spell; I was always bad to beat. Next thing was, theywanted to make a tanner of me. I wouldn't. 'Give me fifty pounds andlet me try the world, ' says I. THEY wouldn't. We quarreled. My uncleinterfered one day, and gave me fifty pounds. 'Go to the devil, ' saidhe, 'if you like; so as you don't come back. ' I went to Sydney, and doubled my fifty; got a sheep-run, and turned my hundred into athousand. Then they found gold, and that brought up a dozen ways ofmaking money, all of 'em better than digging. Why, ma'am, I made tenthousand pounds by selling the beastliest lemonade you ever tasted forgold-dust at the mines. That was a good swop, wasn't it? So now I'm comehome to see if I can stand the Old Country and its ways; and I'm goingto see the old folk. I haven't heard a word about them this twentyyears. "

"Oh, dear, sir, " said the meek woman, "twenty years is a long time. Ihope you won't find them dead an' buried. "

"Don't say that; don't say that!" And the tough, rough man showed agrain of feeling. He soon recovered himself, though, and said moreobstreperously than ever, "If they are, I disown 'em. None of yourfaint-hearted people for me. I despise a chap that gives in beforeeighty. I'm Ben Bolt, that is bad to beat. Death himself isn't going tobowl me out till I've had my innings. "

"La, sir; pray don't talk so, or you'll anger them above, and, ten toone, upset the train. "

"That's one for me, and two for yourself, ma'am. "

"Yes, sir, " said the mild soul. "I have got my husband with me, and youare only a bachelor, sir. "

"How d'ye know that?"

"I think you'd ha' been softened down a bit, if you'd ever had a goodwife. "

"Oh, it is because I speak loud. That is with bawling to my shepherdshalf a mile off. Why, if I'm loud, I'm civil. Now, young man, what isYOUR trouble?"

Henry started from his reverie, and looked astonished. 

"Out with it, " shouted Mr. Bolt; "don't sit grizzling there. What withthis lady's husband, dead and buried in that there newspaper, and you, that sets brooding like a hen over one egg, it's a Quaker's meeting, ornearly. If you've been and murdered anybody, tell us all about it. Onceoff your mind, you'll be more sociable. "

"A man's thoughts are his own, Mr. Bolt. I'm not so fond of talkingabout myself as you seem to be. "

"Oh, I can talk, or I can listen. But you won't do neither. Prettycompany YOU are, a-hatching of your egg. "

"Well, sir, " said the meek woman to Henry, "the rough gentleman he isright. If you are in trouble, the best way is to let your tongue put itoff your heart. "

"I'm sure you are very kind, " said Henry, "but really my trouble is oneof those out-of-the-way things that do not interest people. However, thelong and the short is, I'm an inventor. I have invented several things, and kept them dark, and they have paid me. I live at Hillsborough. But now I have found a way of grinding long saws and circular saws bymachinery, at a saving of five hundred per cent labor. That saving oflabor represents an enormous profit--a large fortune; so I havepatented the invention at my own expense. But I can't work it without acapitalist. Well, I have ransacked London, and all the moneyed men shyme. The fools will go into railways, and bubbles, and a lot of thingsthat are blind chance, but they won't even study my drawings andfigures, and I made it clear enough too. "

"I'm not of their mind then, " said Bolt. "My rule is never to letanother man work my money. No railway shares nor gold mines for BenBolt. My money goes with me, and I goes with my money. "

"Then you are a man of sense; and I only wish you had money enough to gointo this with me. "

"How do you know how much money I've got? You show me how to turn twentythousand into forty thousand, or forty thousand into eighty thousand, and I'll soon find the money. "

"Oh, I could show you how to turn fifteen thousand into fifty thousand. "He then unlocked his black bag, and showed Bolt some drawings thatrepresented the grinders by hand at work on long saws and circularsaws. "This, " said he, "is the present system. " He then pointed out itsdefects. "And this, " said he, "is what I propose to substitute. " Thenhe showed him drawings of his machines at work. "And these figuresrepresent the saving in labor. Now, in this branch of cutlery, the laboris the manufacturer's main expense. Make ten men grind what fifty used, you put forty workmen's wages in your pocket. "

"That's tall talk. "

"Not an inch taller than the truth. "

Mr. Bolt studied the drawings, and, from obstreperous, became quitequiet and absorbed. Presently he asked Henry to change places with him;and, on this being complied with, he asked the meek woman to read himHenry's figures, slowly. She stared, but complied. Mr. Bolt ponderedthe figures, and examined the drawings again. He then put a numberof questions to Henry, some of them very shrewd; and, at last, got sointerested in the affair that he would talk of nothing else. 

As the train slackened for Birmingham, he said to Henry, "I'm no greatscholar; I like to see things in the body. On we go to Hillsborough. "

"But I want to talk to a capitalist or two at Birmingham. "

"That is not fair; I've got the refusal. "

"The deuce you have!"

"Yes, I've gone into it with you; and the others wouldn't listen. Saidso yourself. "

"Well, but, Mr. Bolt, are you really in earnest? Surely this is quiteout of your line?"

"How can it be out of my line if it pays? I've bought and sold sheep, and wool, and land, and water, and houses, and tents, and old clothes, and coffee, and tobacco, and cabs. And swopped--my eye, how I haveswopped! I've swopped a housemaid under articles for a pew in thechurch, and a milch cow for a whale that wasn't even killed yet; I paidfor the chance. I'm at all in the ring, and devilish bad to beat. Heregoes--high, low, Jack, and the game. "

"Did you ever deal in small beer?" asked Henry, satirically. 

"No, " said Bolt, innocently. "But I would in a minute if I saw clear tothe nimble shilling. Well, will you come on to Hillsborough and settlethis? I've got the refusal for twenty-four hours, I consider. "

"Oh, if you think so, I will go on to Hillsborough. But you saidyou were going to see your parents, after twenty years' absence andsilence. "

"So I am; but they can keep; what signifies a day or two more aftertwenty years?" He added, rather severely, as one whose superior ageentitled him to play the monitor, "Young man, I never make a toil of apleasure. "

"No more do I. But how does that apply to visiting your parents?"

"If I was to neglect business to gratify my feelings, I should begrizzling all the time; and wouldn't that be making a toil of apleasure?"

Henry could only grin in reply to this beautiful piece of reasoning; andthat same afternoon the pair were in Hillsborough, and Mr. Bolt, underHenry's guidance, inspected the grinding of heavy saws, both long andcircular. He noted, at Henry's request, the heavy, dirty labor. Hethen mounted to the studio, and there Henry lectured on his models, andshowed them working. Bolt took it all in, his eye flashed, and then heput on, for the first time, the coldness of the practiced dealer. "Itwould take a good deal of money to work this properly, " said he, shakinghis head. 

"It has taken a good deal of brains to invent it. "

"No doubt, no doubt. Well, if you want me to join you, it must be onsuitable terms. Money is tight. "

"Well, propose your own terms. "

"That's not my way. I'll think it over before I put my hand to paper. Give me till to-morrow. "

"Certainly. "

On this Mr. Bolt went off as if he had been shot. 

He returned next day, and laid before Henry an agreement drawn bythe sharpest attorney in Hillsborough, and written in a clerk's hand. "There, " said he, briskly, "you sign that, and I'll make my mark, and atit we go. "

"Stop a bit, " said Henry. "You've been to a lawyer, have you? Then Imust go to one, too; fair play's a jewel. "

Bolt looked disappointed; but the next moment he affected cheerfulness, and said, "That is fair. Take it to your lawyer directly. "

"I will, " said Henry; but, instead of a lawyer, he took it to his friendDr. Amboyne, told him all about Ben Bolt, and begged his advice on theagreement. "Ought he to have the lion's share like this?"

"The moneyed man generally takes that. No commodity is sold so farbeyond its value as money. Let me read it. "

The purport of the agreement was as follows:--New premises to be builtby Bolt, a portion of the building to be constructed so that it could beeasily watched night and day, and in that part the patent saw-grindingmachines to be worked. The expenses of this building to be paid off bydegrees out of the gross receipts, and meanwhile Mr. Bolt was to receivefive per cent. Interest for his outlay and two-thirds of the profits, if any. Mr. Little to dispose of his present factory, and confine hispatents to the joint operation. 

Dr. Amboyne, on mature consideration, advised Little to submit to allthe conditions, except the clause confining his operations and hispatents. They just drew their pen through that clause, and sent theamended agreement to Bolt's hotel. He demurred to the amendment; butHenry stood firm, and proposed a conference of four. This took place atDr. Amboyne's house, and at last the agreement was thus modified: theuse of the patents in Hillsborough to be confined to the firm of Boltand Little: but Little to be free to sell them, or work them in anyother town, and also free, in Hillsborough, to grind saws by hand, or doany other established operation of cutlery. 

The parties signed; and Bolt went to work in earnest. With all hisresolution, he did not lack prudence. He went into the suburbs for hissite and bought a large piece of ground. He advertised for contractsand plans, and brought them all to Henry, and profited by his practicalremarks. 

He warned the builders it must be a fortress, as well as a factory: but, at Henry's particular request, he withheld the precise reason. "I'm notto be rattened, " said he. "I mean to stop that little game. I'm Ben Bolt, that's bad to beat. "

At last the tender of Mr. White was accepted, and as Mr. Bolt, experienced in the delays of builders, tied him tight as to time, he, onhis part, made a prompt and stringent contract with Messrs. Whitbread, the brickmakers, and began to dig the foundations. 

All this Henry communicated to Grace, and was in high spirits overit, and then so was she. He had a beautiful frame made for the littlepicture she had given him, and hung it up in his studio. It became thepresiding genius, and indeed the animating spirit, of his life. 

Both to him and Grace the bright and hopeful period of their love hadcome at last. Even Bolt contributed something to Little's happiness. The man, hard as he was in business, was not without a certain roughgeniality; and then he was so brisk and bustling. His exuberant energypleased the inventor, and formed an agreeable relief to his reveries anddeep fits of study. 

The prospect was bright, and the air sunny. In the midst of all whichthere rose in the horizon a cloud, like that seen by Elijah's servant, acloud no bigger than a man's hand. 

Bolt burst into the studio one day, like a shell, and, like a shell, exploded. 

"Here's a pretty go! We're all at a standstill. The brickmakers havestruck. "

"Why, what is the matter?"

"Fourpence. Young Whitbread, our brickmaker's son, is like you--a bitof an inventor; he altered the shape of the bricks, to fit a smallhand-machine, and Whitbreads reckoned to save tenpence a thousand. Thebrickmakers objected directly. Whitbreads didn't want a row, so theyoffered to share the profit. The men sent two of their orators toparley; I was standing by Whithread when they came up; you should haveheard 'em; anybody would have sworn the servants were masters, and themasters negro slaves. When the servants had hectored a bit, the masters, meek and mild, said they would give them sixpence out of the tenpencesooner than they should feel dissatisfied. No; that wouldn't do. 'Well, then, ' says young Whitbread, 'are you agreed what will do?' 'Well, ' saidone of the servants, 'we WILL ALLOW YOU TO MAKE THE BRICKS, if you giveus the tenpence. '"

"That was cool, " said Henry. "To be sure, all brainless beggars try tostarve invention. "

"Yes, my man: and you grumbled at my taking two-thirds. Labor is harderon you inventors than capital is, you see. Well, I told 'em I wonderedat their cheek; but the old man stopped me, and spoke quite mild:says he, 'You are too hard on us; we ought to gain a trifle by our ownimprovement; if it had come from you, we should pay you for it;' andhe should stand by his offer of sixpence. So then the men told them itwould be the worse for them, and the old gentleman gave a bit of sigh, and said he couldn't help that, he must live in the trade, or leave it, he didn't much care which. Next morning they all struck work; and therewe are--stopped. "

"Well, " said Henry, "it is provoking; but you mustn't ask me to meddle. It's your business. "

"It is, and I'll show you I'm bad to beat. " With this doughty resolve hewent off and drove the contractors; they drove the brickmakers, and thebrickmakers got fresh hands from a distance, and the promise of somemore. 

Bolt rubbed his hands, and kept popping into the yard to see how theygot on. By this means he witnessed an incident familiar to brickmakersin that district, but new to him. Suddenly loud cries of pain wereheard, and two of the brickmakers held up hands covered with blood, andtransfixed by needles. Some ruffian had filled the clay with needles. The sufferers were both disabled, and one went to the hospital. Temperedclay enough to make two hundred thousand bricks had been needled, andhad to be cleared away at a loss of time and material. 

Bolt went and told Henry, and it only worried him; he could do nothing. Bolt went and hired a watchman and a dog, at his own expense. The dogwas shot dead one dark night, and the watchman's box turned over and satupon, watchman included, while the confederates trampled fifty thousandraw bricks into a shapeless mass. 

The brickmasters, however, stood firm, and at last four of the old handsreturned to him, and accepted the sixpence profit due to the master'sinvention. These four were contribution-men, that is to say, they paidthe Union a shilling per week for permission to make bricks; but thisweekly payment was merely a sort of blackmail, it entitled them to norelief from the Union when out of work: so a three-weeks' strike broughtthem to starvation, and they could cooperate no longer with the genuineUnion men, who were relieved from the box all this time. Nevertheless, though their poverty, and not their will, brought them back to work, they were all threatened, and found themselves in a position that meritsthe sympathy of all men, especially of the very poor. Starvation on oneside, sanguinary threats on the other, from an Union which abandonedthem in their need, yet expected them to stick by it and starve. Inshort, the said Union was no pupil of Amboyne; could not put itself inthe place of these hungry men, and realize their dilemma; it could onlysee the situation from its own point of view. From that intellectualdefect sprang a crime. On a certain dark night, Thomas Wilde, one ofthese contribution-men, was burning bricks all by himself, when a bodyof seven men came crawling up to within a little distance. These menwere what they call "victims, " i. E. , men on strike, and receiving payfrom the box. 

Now, when a man stands against the fire of a kiln, he cannot see manyyards from him: so five of the "victims" stood waiting, and sent twoforward. These two came up to Wilde, and asked him a favor. "Eh, mister, can you let me and my mate lie down for an hour by your fire?"

"You are welcome, " said honest Wilde. He then turned to break a piece ofcoal, and instantly one of those who had accepted his hospitality struckhim on the back of the head, and the other five rushed in, and they allset on him, and hit him with cartlegs, and kicked him with their heavyshoes. Overpowered as he was, he struggled away from them, groaning andbleeding, and got to a shed about thirty yards off. But these relentlessmen, after a moment's hesitation, followed him, and rained blows andkicks on him again, till he gave himself up for dead. He cried outin his despair, "Lord, have mercy on me; they have finished me!" andfainted away in a pool of his own blood. But, just before he becameinsensible, he heard a voice say, "Thou'll burn no more bricks. " Thenthe "victims" retired, leaving this great criminal for dead. 

After a long while he came to himself, and found his arm was broken, andhis body covered with cuts and bruises. His house was scarcely a furlongdistant, yet he was an hour crawling to it. His room was up a shortstair of ten steps. The steps beat him; he leaned on the rail at thebottom, and called out piteously, "My wife! my wife! my wife!" threetimes. 

Mrs. Wilde ran down to him, and caught hold of his hand, and said, "Whatever is to do?"

When she took his hand the pain made him groan, and she felt somethingdrip on to her hand. It was blood from his wounded arm. Then she wasterrified, and, strong with excitement, she managed to get him into thehouse and lay him on the floor. She asked him, had he fallen off thekiln? He tried to reply, but could not, and fainted again. This time hewas insensible for several hours. In the morning he came to, and toldhis cruel story to Whitbread, Bolt, and others. Bolt and Whitbread tookit most to heart. Bolt went to Mr. Ransome, and put the case in hishands. 

Ransome made this remark:--"Ah, you are a stranger, sir. The folkhereabouts never come to us in these Union cases. I'll attend to it, trust me. "

Bolt went with this tragedy to Henry, and it worried him; but he coulddo nothing. "Mr. Bolt, " said he, "I think you are making your owndifficulties. Why quarrel with the Brickmakers' Union? Surely that issuperfluous. "

"Why, it is them that quarreled with me; and I'm Ben Bolt, that isbad to beat. " He armed himself with gun and revolver, and watched theWhitbreads' yard himself at night. 

Two days after this, young Whitbread's wife received an anonymousletter, advising her, as a friend, to avert the impending fate of herhusband, by persuading him to dismiss the police and take back hisHands. The letter concluded with this sentence, "He is generallyrespected; but we have come to a determination to shoot him. "

Young Whitbread took no apparent notice of this, and soon afterward thesecretary of the Union proposed a conference. Bolt got wind of this, andwas there when the orators came. The deputation arrived, and, after avery short preamble, offered to take the six-pence. 

"Why, " said Bolt, "you must be joking. Those are the terms poor Wildecame back on, and you have hashed him for it. "

Old Whitbread looked the men in the face, and said, gravely, "You aretoo late. You have shed that poor man's blood; and you have sent ananonymous letter to my son's wife. That lady has gone on her knees to usto leave the trade, and we have consented. Fifteen years ago, your Unionwrote letters of this kind to my wife (she was pregnant at the time), and drove her into her grave, with fright and anxiety for her husband. You shall not kill Tom's wife as well. The trade is a poor one at best, thanks to the way you have ground your employers down, and, when youadd to that needling our clay, and burning our gear, and beating ourservants to death's door, and driving our wives into the grave, we bidyou good-by. Mr. Bolt, I'm the sixth brickmaster this Union has drivenout of the trade by outrages during the last ten years. "

"Thou's a wrong-headed old chap, " said the brickmakers' spokesman; "butthou canst not run away with place. Them as takes to it will have totake us on. "

"Not so. We have sold our plant to the Barton Machine BrickmakingCompany; and you maltreated them so at starting that now they won't leta single Union man set his foot on their premises. "

The company in question made bricks better and cheaper than any otherbrickmaster; but, making them by machinery, were ALWAYS at war with theBrickmakers' Union, and, whenever a good chance occurred for destroyingtheir property, it was done. They, on their part, diminished thosechances greatly by setting up their works five miles from the town, andby keeping armed watchmen and police. Only these ran away with theirprofits. 

Now, when this company came so near the town, and proceeded to work upWhitbread's clay, in execution of the contract with which their purchasesaddled them, the Brickmakers' Union held a great meeting, in which fulla hundred brickmakers took part, and passed extraordinary resolutions, and voted extraordinary sums of money, and recorded both in their books. These books were subsequently destroyed, for a reason the reader caneasily divine who has read this narrative with his understanding. 

Soon after that meeting, one Kay, a brickmaker, who was never seen tomake a brick--for the best of all reasons, he lived by blood alone--wasobserved reconnoitering the premises, and that very night a quantity ofbarrows, utensils, and tools were heaped together, naphtha poured overthem, and the whole set on fire. 

Another dark night, twenty thousand bricks were trampled so noiselesslythat the perpetrators were neither seen nor heard. 

But Bolt hired more men, put up a notice he would shoot any intruderdead, and so frightened them by his blustering that they kept away, being cowards at bottom, and the bricks were rapidly made, and burnt, and some were even delivered; these bricks were carted from the yard tothe building site by one Harris, who had nothing to do with the quarrel;he was a carter by profession, and wheeled bricks for all the world. 

One night this poor man's haystack and stable were all in flames in amoment, and unearthly screams issued from the latter. 

The man ran out, half-naked, and his first thought was to save his goodgray mare from the fire. But this act of humanity had been foreseen andprovided against. The miscreants had crept into the stable, and tied thepoor docile beast fast by the head to the rack; then fired the straw. Her screams were such as no man knew a horse could utter. They piercedall hearts, however hard, till her burnt body burst the burnt cords, andall fell together. Man could not aid her. But God can avenge her. 

As if the poor thing could tell whether she was drawing machine-madebricks, or hand-made bricks!

The incident is painful to relate; but it would be unjust to omit it. Itwas characteristic of that particular Union; and, indeed, without it myreader could not possibly appreciate the brickmaking mind. 

Bolt went off with this to Little; but Amboyne was there, and cuthis tales short. "I hope, " said he, "that the common Creator of thefour-legged animal and the two-legged beasts will see justice donebetween them; but you must not come here tormenting my inventor withthese horrors. Your business is to relieve him of all such worries, andlet him invent in peace. "

"Yes, " said Little, "and I have told Mr. Bolt we can't avoid adifficulty with the cutlers. But the brickmakers--what madness to go andquarrel with them! I will have nothing to do with it, Mr. Bolt. "

"The cutlers! Oh, I don't mind them, " said Bolt. "They are angelscompared with the brickmakers. The cutlers don't poison cows, andhamstring horses, and tie them to fire; the cutlers don't fling littleboys into water-pits, and knock down little girls with their fists, just because their fathers are non-Union men; the cutlers don't strewpoisoned apples and oranges about, to destroy whole families like rats. Why, sir, I have talked with a man the brickmakers tried to throw intoboiling lime; and another they tried to poison with beer, and, when hewouldn't drink it, threw vitriol in his eyes, and he's blind of an eyeto this day. There's full half a dozen have had bottles of gunpowder andold nails flung into their rooms, with lighted fuses, where they weresleeping with their families; they call that 'bottling a man;' it's afamiliar phrase. I've seen three cripples crawling about that have beenset on by numbers and spoiled for life, and as many fired at in thedark; one has got a slug in his head to this day. And, with all that, the greatest cowards in the world--daren't face a man in daylight, anytwo of them; but I've seen the woman they knocked down with their fists, and her daughter too, a mere child at the time. No, the cutlers are men, but the brickmakers are beasts. "

"All the more reason for avoiding silly quarrels with the brickmakers, "said Little. 

Thus snubbed, Mr. Bolt retired, muttering something about "bad to beat. "He found Harris crying over the ashes of his mare, and the man refusedto wheel any more machine-made bricks. Other carters, being applied to, refused also. They had received written warning, and dared not wheel oneof those bricks for their lives. 

The invincible Bolt bought a cart and a horse, hired two strangers, armed them and himself with revolvers, and carted the bricks himself. Five brickmakers waylaid him in a narrow lane; he took out his revolver, and told them he'd send them all to hell if one laid a finger on him; atthis rude observation they fled like sheep. 

The invincible carted his bricks by day, and at night rode the horseaway to an obscure inn, and slept beside him, armed to the teeth. 

The result of all which was that one day he burst into Little's studioshouting "Victory!" and told him two hundred thousand bricks were onthe premises, and twenty bricklayers would be at work on the foundationsthat afternoon. 

Henry Little was much pleased at that, and when Bolt told him how he hadcarted the bricks in person, said, "You are the man for me; you reallyare bad to beat. "

While they were congratulating each other on this hard-earned victory, Mr. Bayne entered softly, and said, "Mr. White--to speak to Mr. Bolt. "

"That is the builder, " said Bolt. "Show him up. "

Mr. White came in with a long face. 

"Bad news, gentlemen; the Machine Brickmaking Company retires frombusiness, driven out of trade by their repeated losses from violence. "

"All the worse for the nation, " said Bolt; "houses are a fancyarticle--got to be. But it doesn't matter to us. We have got bricksenough to go on with. "

"Plenty, sir; but that is not where the shoe pinches now. TheBrickmakers' Union has made it right with the Bricklayers' Union, and the Bricklayers' Union orders us to cart back every one of thosemachine-made bricks to the yard. "

"See them ---- first, " said Bolt. 

"Well, sir, have you considered the alternative?"

"Not I. What is it?"

"Not a bricklayer in Hillsboro', or for fifty miles round, will seta brick for us; and if we get men from a distance they will be talkedaway, or driven away, directly. The place is picketed on every side atthis moment. "

Even Bolt was staggered now. "What is to be done, I wonder?"

"There's nothing to be done but submit. When two such powerful Unionsamalgamate, resistance is useless, and the law of the land a deadletter. Mr. Bolt, I'm not a rich man; I've got a large family; let mebeg of you to release me from the contract. "

"White, you are a cur. Release you? never!"

"Then, sir, I'll go through the court and release myself. "

Henry Little was much dejected by this monstrous and unforeseen obstaclearising at the very threshold of his hopes. He felt so sad, that hedetermined to revive himself with a sight of Grace Carden. He pined forher face and voice. So he went up to Woodbine Villa, though it wasnot his day. As he drew near that Paradise, the door opened, and Mr. Frederick Coventry came out. The two men nearly met at the gate. Therejected lover came out looking bright and happy, and saw the acceptedlover arrive, looking depressed and careworn; he saw in a momentsomething was going wrong, and turned on his heel with a glance oftriumph. 

Henry Little caught that glance, and stood at the gate black with rage. He stood there about a minute, and then walked slowly home again: hefelt he should quarrel with Grace if he went in, and, by a violenteffort of self-restraint, he retraced his steps; but he went home sickat heart. 

The mother's eye read his worn face in a moment, and soon she had it allout of him. It cost her a struggle not to vent her maternal spleenon Grace; but she knew that would only make her son more unhappy. Sheadvised him minutely what to say to the young lady about Mr. Coventry:and, as to the other matters she said, "You have found Mr. Bolt not sobad to beat as he tells you: for he is beaten, and there's an end ofhim. Now let ME try. "

"Why, what on earth can you do in a case of this kind?"

"Have I ever failed when you have accepted my assistance?"

"No: that's true. Well, I shall be glad of your assistance now, heavenknows; only I can't imagine--"

"Never mind: will you take Grace Carden if I throw her into your arms?"

"Oh, mother, can you ask me?"

Mrs. Little rang the bell, and ordered a fly. Henry offered to accompanyher. She declined. "Go to bed early, " said she, "and trust to yourmother. We are harder to beat sometimes than a good many Mr. Bolts. "

She drove to Dr. Amboyne's house, and sent in her name. She was usheredinto the doctor's study, and found him shivering over an enormous fire. "Influenza. "

"Oh dear, " said she, "I'm afraid you are very ill. "

"Never mind that. Sit down. You will not make me any worse, you may besure of that. " And he smiled affectionately on her. 

"But I came to intrude my own troubles on you. "

"All the better. That will help me forget mine. "

Mrs. Little seated herself, and, after a slight hesitation, opened herbattery thus:--"Well, my good friend, I am come to ask you a favor. Itis to try and reconcile my brother and me. If any one can do it, youcan. "

"Praise the method, not the man. If one could only persuade you to putyourself in his place, and him to put himself in yours, you would beboth reconciled in five minutes. "

"You forget we have been estranged this five-and-twenty years. "

"No I don't. The only question is, whether you can and will deviate fromthe practice of the world into an obese lunatic's system, both of you. "

"Try ME, to begin. "

The doctor's eyes sparkled with satisfaction. "Well, then, " said he, "first you must recollect all the differences you have seen between themale and female mind, and imagine yourself a man. "

"Oh, dear! that is so hard. But I have studied Henry. Well, there--Ihave unsexed myself--in imagination. "

"You are not only a man but a single-minded man, with a high and clearsense of obligation. You are a trustee, bound by honor to protectthe interests of a certain woman and a certain child. The lady, underinfluence, wishes to borrow her son's money, and risk it on rottensecurity. You decline, and the lady's husband affronts you. In spiteof that affront, being a high-minded man not to be warped by pettyirritation, you hurry to your lawyers to get two thousand pounds of yourown, for the man who had affronted you. "

"Is that so?" said Mrs. Little. "I was not aware of that. "

"I have just learned it, accidentally, from the son of the solicitorRaby went to that fatal night. "

A tear stole down Mrs. Little's cheek. 

"Now, remember, you are not a woman, but a brave, high-minded man. Inthat character you pity poor Mr. Little, but you blame him a littlebecause he fled from trouble, and left his wife and child in it. To you, who are Guy Raby--mind that, please--it seems egotistical and weak todesert your wife and child even for the grave. " (The widow buried herface and wept. Twenty-five years do something to withdraw the veil theheart has cast over the judgment. ) "But, whatever you feel, you utteronly regret, and open your arms to your sister. She writes back in anagony, for which, being a man, you can not make all the allowance youwould if you were a woman, and denounces you as her husband's murderer, and bids you speak to her and write to her no more, and with that shegoes to the Littles. Can you blame yourself that, after all this, you wait for her to review your conduct more soberly, and to invite areconciliation. "

Mrs. Little gave Dr. Amboyne her hand, "Bitter, but wholesome medicine!"she murmured, and then was too overcome to speak for a little while. 

"Ah, my good, wise friend!" said she at last, "thick clouds seemclearing from my mind; I begin to see I was the one to blame. "

"Yes; and if Raby will be as docile as you, and put himself in yourplace, he will tell me he was the one to blame. There's no such thing as'the one to blame;' there very seldom is. You judged him as if he wasa woman, he judged you as if you were a man. Enter an obese maniac, andapplies the art of arts; the misunderstanding dissolves under it, andyou are in each other's arms. But, stop"--and his countenance fell againa little: "I am afraid there is a new difficulty. Henry's refusal totake the name of Raby and be his heir. Raby was bitterly mortified, and I fear he blames me and my crotchets; for he has never been near mesince. To be sure you are not responsible for Henry's act. "

"No, indeed; for, between you and me, it mortified me cruelly. Andnow things have taken a turn--in short, what with his love, and hisjealousy, and this hopeless failure to make a fortune by inventing, Ifeel I can bring him to his senses. I am not pleased with Grace Cardenabout something; but no matter, I shall call on her and show her shemust side with me in earnest. You will let my brother know I was alwayson his side in THAT matter, whatever other offense I may have given himyears ago. "

"And I am on your side, too. Your son has achieved a small independence. Bayne can carry on the little factory, and Henry can sell or leasehis patents; he can never sink to a mere dependent. There, I throw mycrotchets to the wind, and we will Raby your son, and marry him to GraceCarden. "

"God bless you, my good and true friend! How can I ever thank you?" Hercheek flushed, and her great maternal eye sparkled, and half the beautyof her youth came back. Her gratitude gave a turn to the conversationwhich she neither expected nor desired. 

"Mrs. Little, " said Dr. Amboyne, "this is the first time you haveentered my den, and the place seems transformed by your presence. Myyouth comes back to me with the feelings I thought time had blunted;but no, I feel that, when you leave my den again, it will be darker thanever, if you do not leave me a hope that you will one day enter it forgood. "

"For shame! At our age!--" said the widow. 

But she spoilt the remonstrance by blushing like a girl of eighteen. 

"You are not old in my eyes; and, as for me, let my years plead for me, since all those years I have lived single for your sake. "

This last appeal shook Mrs. Little. She said she could not entertain anysuch thoughts whilst her son was unhappy. "But marry him to his Grace, and then--I don't know what folly I might not be persuaded into. "

The doctor was quite content with that. He said he would go to Raby, assoon as he could make the journey with safety, and her troubles and herson's should end. 

Mrs. Little drove home, a happy mother. As for the promise she had madeher old friend, it vexed her a little, she was so used to look at himin another light; but she shrugged her maternal shoulders, as much as tosay, "When once my Henry leaves me--why not?"

She knew she must play the politician a little with Henry, so she openedthe battery cautiously. "My dear, " said she, at breakfast, "good news!Dr. Amboyne undertakes to reconcile us both to your uncle. "

"All the better. Mr. Raby is a wrong-headed man, but he is anoble-minded one, that is certain. "

"Yes, and I have done him injustice. Dr. Amboyne has shown me that. "

She said no more. One step at a time. 

Henry went up to Woodbine Villa and Grace received him a little coldly. He asked what was the matter. She said, "They tell me you were at thevery door the other day, and did not come in. "

"It is true, " said he. "Another had just come out--Mr. Coventry. "

"And you punished ME because that poor man had called on me. Have younot faith in me? or what is it? I shall be angry one of these days. "

"No, you will not, if I can make you understand my feelings. Putyourself in my place, dearest. Here am I, fighting the good fight foryou, against long odds; and, at last, the brickmakers and bricklayershave beat us. Now you know that is a bitter cup for me to drink. Well, I come up here for my one drop of comfort; and out walks my declaredrival, looks into my face, sees my trouble there, and turns off with aglance of insolent triumph. " (Grace flushed. ) "And then consider: I amyour choice, yet I am only allowed to visit you once a week. "

"That is papa's doing. "

"No matter; so it is. Yet my rival can come when he pleases: and nodoubt he does come every other day. "

"You fancy that. "

"It is not all fancy; for--by heaven! there he is at the gate. Twovisits to my one; there. Well, all the better, I'll talk to HIM. "

He rose from his seat black with wrath. 

Grace turned pale, and rang the bell in a moment. 

The servant entered the room, just as Mr. Coventry knocked at the door. 

"Not at home to anybody, " said she. 

Mr. Coventry's voice was heard to say incredulously, "Not at home?" Thenhe retired slowly, and did not leave the neighborhood. He had called atan hour when Grace was always at home. 

Henry sat down, and said, "Thank you, Grace. " But he looked very gloomyand disturbed. 

She sat down too, and then they looked at each other. 

Henry was the first to speak. "We are both pupils of the good doctor. Put yourself in my place. That man troubles our love, and makes my heavyheart a sore heart. "

The tears were in Grace's eyes. "Dearest, " said she, "I will not putmyself in your place; you would lose by that, for I love you better thanmyself. Yes, it is unjust that you should be allowed to visit me butonce a week, and he should visit me when he chooses. I assure you I havepermitted his visits out of pure good-nature; and now I will put an endto them. "

She drew her desk toward her, and wrote to Mr. Coventry. It took hersome little time. She handed Henry the letter to read. He took it in hishand; but hesitated. He inquired what would be the effect of it?

"That he will never visit me again till you and I are married, orengaged, and that is the same thing. Why don't you read it?"

"I don't know: it goes against me, somehow. Seems unmanly. I'll takeyour word for it. "

This charmed Grace. "Ah, " said she, "I have chosen right. "

Then he kissed her hands, and blessed her: and then she told him itwas nothing; he was a goose, and had no idea what she would do for him;"more than you would do for me, I know, " said she. 

That he denied, and then she said she might perhaps put him to the proofsome day. 

They were so happy together, time slipped away unheeded. It was fullthree hours before Henry could tear himself away, though he knew hewas wanted at the works; and he went out at the gate, glowing withhappiness: and Coventry, who was ready to drop with the fatigue ofwalking and watching just above, saw him come out triumphant. 

Then it was his turn to feel a deadly qualm. However, he waited a littlelonger, and then made his call. 

"Not at home. "

Henry, on his way to the works, looked in on his mother, and told herhow nobly Grace had behaved. 

Mrs. Little was pleased, and it smoothed down her maternal bristles, andmade it much easier for her to carry out her design. For the first timesince Mr. Carden had offended her by his cold-blooded treatment of herson, she called at Woodbine Villa. 

Grace was at home to see her, and met her with a blushing timidity, andpiteous, wistful looks, not easy to misunderstand nor to resist. 

They soon came to an understanding, and Mrs. Little told Grace what Dr. Amboyne had promised to do, and represented to her how much better itwould be for Henry to fall into his uncle Raby's views, than to engagein hopeless struggles like that in which Mr. Bolt and he had just beenso signally defeated. "And then, you know, my dear, you could marry nextmonth--you two; that is to say, if YOU felt disposed: I will answer forHenry. "

Grace's red face and swimming eyes told how this shaft went home. Inshort, she made a coy promise that she would co-operate with Mrs. Little"and, " said she, "how lucky! he has almost promised to grant me thefirst favor I ask him. Well, I shall entreat him to be a good nephew, and do whatever dear Mr. Raby asks him. But of course I shall not say, and then if you do, you and I"--here the young lady cut her sentencevery short. 

"Of course not, " said Mrs. Little. "THAT will follow as a matter ofcourse. Now, my dear, you and I are conspirators--for his good: and wemust write often and let each other know all we do. "

With this understanding, and a good many pretty speeches and kisses, they parted. 

Dr. Amboyne did not recover so quickly as they could have wished; butthey employed the interval. Feelers were adroitly applied to Henry byboth ladies, and they were pleased to find that he rather admired hiswrong-headed uncle, and had been deeply touched by the old gentleman'saddress to his mother's picture. 

Bolt never came near him, and the grass was beginning to grow onthe condemned bricks. In short, every thing seemed to incline in onedirection. 

There was, however, something very serious going on out of their sight. 

"Not at home!" That white lie made Mr. Coventry feel sick at heart. He went home disconsolate. The same evening he received Miss Carden'sletter. 

The writer treated him like a gentleman, said a few words about her ownpeculiar position, and begged him to consider that position, and to bevery generous; to cease his visits entirely for the present, and so givehimself one more title to her esteem, which was all she had to give him. This was the purport, and the manner was simply perfect, so gentle yetfirm; and then she flattered his amour propre by asking that from hisgenerosity which she could have taken as a right: she did all she couldto soften the blow. But she failed. The letter was posted too soon afterHenry's visit. Behind the velvet paw that struck him, Coventry saw theclaws of the jealous lover. He boiled with rage and agony, and cursedthem both in his fury. 

After an hour or two of frenzy, he sat down and wrote back a letter fullof bitter reproaches and sneers. He reflected. He lighted a cigar andsmoked it, biting it almost through, now and then. He burned his letter. He lay awake all night, raging and reflecting alternately, as passion orjudgment got the upper hand. 

In the morning he saw clearer. "Don't quarrel with HER. Destroy HIM. " Hesaw this as plainly as if it was written. 

He wrote Grace a few sad lines, to say that of course he submitted toher will. The letter ended thus: "Since I can do nothing to please you, let me suffer to please you: even that is something. "

(This letter brought the tears to Grace's eyes, and she pitied andesteemed the writer. )

He put on a plain suit, and drove into Hillsborough, burning withwild ideas of vengeance. He had no idea what he should do; but he wasresolved to do something. He felt capable of assassinating Little withhis own hand. 

I should be sorry to gain any sympathy for him; but it is only fairthe reader should understand that he felt deeply aggrieved, and thatwe should all feel aggrieved under similar circumstances. Priority is atitle, all the world over; and he had been the lady's lover first, hadbeen encouraged, and supplanted. 

Longing to wound, but not knowing how to strike, he wandered about thetown, and went into several factories, and talked to some of the men, and contrived to bring the conversation round to Little, and learn whathe was doing. But he gathered no information of any use to him. Thenhe went to Grotait's place, and tried to pump him. That sagaciousman thought this odd, and immediately coupled this with his previousdenunciation of Little, and drew him on. 

Coventry was too much under the influence of passion to be quite masterof himself that day; and he betrayed to this other Machiavel that hewished ill to Henry Little. As soon as he had thoroughly ascertainedthis, Grotrait turned coolly on him, and said, "I am sorry Mr. Littlehas got enemies; for he and his partner talk of building a new factory, and that will be a good thing for us: take a score of saw-grindersoff the box. " Then Coventry saw he had made a mistake, and left "TheCutlers' Arms" abruptly. 

Next day he took a lodging in the town, and went about groping forinformation, and hunting for a man whose face he knew, but not his name. He learned all about Bolt and Little's vain endeavor to build, and wentand saw the place, and the condemned bricks. The sight gratified him. He visited every saw-grinder's place he could hear of; and, at last, hefell in with Sam Cole, and recognized him at once. That worthy affectednot to know him, and went on grinding a big saw. Coventry stepped upto him, and said in his ear, "I want to speak with you. Make anappointment. "

Cole looked rather sulky and reluctant at being drawn from hisobscurity. However, he named a low public-house in a back slum, andthere these two met that night, and for greater privacy were soon seatedin a place bigger than a box and smaller than a room with discoloredwalls, and a rough wooden table before them splashed with beer. Itlooked the very den to hatch villainy in, and drink poison to itssuccess. 

Coventry, pale and red alternately, as fear and shame predominated, began to beat about the bush. 

"You and I have reason to hate the same man. You know who I mean. "

"I can guess. Begins with a Hel. "

"He has wronged me deeply; and he hurt you. "

"That is true, sir. I think he broke my windpipe, for I'm as hoarse asa raven ever since: and I've got one or two of the shot in my cheekstill. "

"Well, then, now is your time to be revenged. "

"Well, I don't know about that. What he done was in self-defense; and ifI play bowls I must look for rubs. "

Coventry bit his lip with impatience. After a pause, he said, "What wereyou paid for that job?"

"Not half enough. "

"Twenty pounds?"

"Nor nothing like it. "

"I'll give you a hundred to do it again, only more effectually. " Heturned very pale when he had made this offer. 

"Ah, " said Cole, "anybody could tell you was a gentleman. "

"You accept my offer, then?"

"Nay, I mean it is easy to see you don't know trades. I musn't meddlewith Mr. Little now; he is right with the Trade. "

"What, not if I pay you five times as much? say ten times then; twohundred pounds. "

"Nay, we Union chaps are not malefactors. You can't buy us to injure anunoffending man. We have got our laws, and they are just ones, and, if aman will break them, after due warning, the order is given to 'do' him, and the men are named for the job, and get paid a trifle for their risk;and the risk is not much, the Trade stand by one another too true, andin so many ways. But if a man is right with the Trade, it is treason toharm him. No, I mustn't move a finger against Little. "

"You have set up a conscience!" said Coventry bitterly. 

"You dropped yours, and I picked it up, " was the Yorkshireman's readyreply. He was nettled now. 

At this moment the door was opened and shut very swiftly, and a whispercame in through the momentary aperture, "Mind your eye, Sam Cole. "

Coventry rushed to the door and looked out; there was nobody to be seen. 

"You needn't trouble yourself, " said Cole. "You might as well run afterthe wind. That was a friendly warning. I know the voice, and Grotaitmust be on to us. Now, sir, if you offered me a thousand pounds, Iwouldn't touch a hair of Mr. Little: he is right with the Trade, andwe should have Grotait and all the Trade as bitter as death against us. I'll tell you a secret, sir, that I've kept from my wife"--(he loweredhis voice to a whisper)--"Grotait could hang me any day he chose. Youmust chink your brass in some other ear, as the saying is: only mind, you did me a good turn once, and I'll do you one now; you have beentalking to somebody else besides me, and blown yourself: so now dropyour little game, and let Little alone, or the Trade will make it theirjob to LAY YOU. "

Coventry's face betrayed so much alarm, that the man added, "And penalservitude wouldn't suit the likes of you. Keep out of it. "

With this rough advice the conference ended, and Mr. Coventry went homethoroughly shaken in his purpose, and indeed not a little anxious onhis own account. Suppose he had been overheard! his offer to Cole wasan offense within reach of the criminal law. What a mysterious labyrinthwas this Trade confederacy, into which he had put his foot so rashly, and shown his game, like a novice, to the subtle and crafty Grotait. Henow collected all his powers, not to injure Little, but to slip out ofhis own blunder. 

He seized this opportunity to carry out a coup he had long meditated: hewent round to a dozen timber-merchants, and contracted with them for thesale of every tree, old or young, on his estate; and, while the treeswere falling like grain, and the agents on both sides measuring thefallen, he vanished entirely from Hillsborough and Bollinghope. 

Dr. Amboyne's influenza was obstinate, and it was nearly a fortnightbefore he was strong enough to go to Cairnhope; but at last Mrs. Littlereceived a line from him, to say he was just starting, and would comestraight to her on his return: perhaps she would give him a cup of tea. 

This letter came very opportunely. Bolt had never shown his face again;and Henry had given up all hopes of working his patents, and had saidmore than once he should have to cross the water and sell them. 

As for Mrs. Little, she had for some time maintained a politic silence. But now she prepared for the doctor's visit as follows: "So, then, youhave no more hopes from the invincible Mr. Bolt?"

"None whatever. He must have left the town in disgust. "

"He is a wise man. I want you to imitate his example. Henry, my dear, what is the great object of your life at present? Is it not to marryGrace Carden?"

"You know it is. "

"Then take her from my hands. Why do you look so astonished? Have youforgotten my little boast?" Then, in a very different tone, "You willlove your poor mother still, when you are married? You will say, 'I oweher my wife, ' will you not?"

Henry was so puzzled he could not reply even to this touching appeal, made with eyes full of tears at the thought of parting with him. 

Mrs. Little proceeded to explain: "Let me begin at the beginning. Dr. Amboyne has shown me I was more to blame than your uncle, was. Wouldyou believe it? although he refused your poor father the trust-money, hewent that moment to get L2000 of his own, and lend it to us. Oh, Henry, when Dr Amboyne told me that, and opened my eyes, I could have thrownmyself at poor Guy's feet. I have been the most to blame in our unhappyquarrel; and I have sent Dr. Amboyne to say so. Now, Henry, my brotherwill forgive me, the doctor says; and, oh, my heart yearns to bereconciled. You will not stand in my way, dearest?"

"Not likely. Why, I am under obligations to him, for my part. "

"Yes, but Dr. Amboyne says dear Guy is deeply mortified by your refusalto be his heir. For my sake, for your own sake, and for Grace Carden'ssake; change your mind now. "

"What, go into his house, and wait for dead men's shoes! Find myselfsome day wishing in my heart that noble old fellow would die! Such alife turns a man's stomach even to think of it. "

"No, no. Dr. Amboyne says that Mr. Bayne can conduct your business here, and hand you a little income, without your meddling. "

"That is true. "

"And, as for your patents, gentlemen can sell them to traders, or leasethem out. My brother would make a settlement on Grace and you--she ishis goddaughter--now that is all Mr. Carden demands. Then you couldmarry, and, on your small present income, make a little tour together;and dispose of your patents in other places. "

"I could do great things with them in the United States. "

"That is a long way. "

"Why, it is only twelve days. "

"Well, marry first, " said the politic mother. 

Henry flushed all over. "Ah!" said he, "you tempt me. Heaven seems toopen its gates as you speak. But you can not be in earnest; he madeit an express condition I should drop my father's name, and take his. Disown my poor dead father? No, no, no!"

Now in reality this condition was wormwood to Mrs. Little; but she knewthat if she let her son see her feeling, all was over. She was all themother now, and fighting for her son's happiness: so she sacrificedtruth to love with an effort, but without a scruple. "It is not as ifit was a strange name. Henry, you compel me to say things that tear myheart to say, but--which has been your best friend, your mother, or yourpoor dear father?"

Henry was grieved at the question: but he was a man who turned his backon nothing. "My father loved me, " said he: "I can remember that; but hedeserted me, and you, in trouble; but you--you have been friend, parent, lover, and guardian angel to me. And, oh, how little I have done todeserve it all!"

"Well, dear, the mother you value so highly, her name was Raby. Yes, love; and, forgive me, I honor and love my mother's name even morethan I do the name of Little"--(the tears ran out of her eyes at thisfalsehood)--"pray take it, to oblige me, and reconcile me to my dearbrother, and end our troubles forever. " Then she wept on his neck, andhe cried with her. 

After a while, he said, "I feel my manhood all melting away together. I am quite confused. It is hard to give up a noble game. It is hard torefuse such a mother as you. Don't cry any more, for mercy's sake! I'mlike to choke. Mind, crying is work I'm not used to. What does SHE say?I am afraid I shall win her, but lose her respect. "

"She says she admires your pride; but you have shown enough. If yourefuse any longer, she will begin to fear you don't love her as well asshe loves you. "

This master-stroke virtually ended the battle. Henry said nothing, butthe signs of giving way were manifest in him, so manifest that Mrs. Little became quite impatient for the doctor's arrival to crown all. 

He drove up to the door at last, and Henry ran out and brought him in. He looked pale, and sat down exhausted. 

Mrs. Little restrained her impatience, and said, "We are selfishcreatures to send you on our business before you are half well. "

"I am well enough in health, " said he, "but I am quite upset. "

"What is the matter? Surely you have not failed? Guy does not refuse hisforgiveness?"

"No, it is not that. Perhaps, if I had been in time--but the fact is, Guy Raby has left England. "

"What, for good? Impossible!"

"Who can tell? All I know is that he has sold his horses, discharged hisservants all but one, and gone abroad without a word. I was the friendof his youth--his college chum; he must be bitterly wounded to go awaylike that, and not even let me know. "

Mrs. Little lifted up her hands. "What have we done? what have we done?Wounded! no wonder. Oh, my poor, wronged, insulted brother!"

She wept bitterly, and took it to heart so, it preyed on her health andspirits. She was never the same woman from that hour. 

While her son and her friend were saying all they could to console her, there appeared at the gate the last man any of them ever expected tosee--Mr. Bolt. 

Henry saw him first, and said so. 

"Keep him out, " cried the doctor, directly. "Don't let that braggingfool in to disturb our sorrow. " He opened the door and told theservant-girl to say "Not at home. "

"Not at home, " said the girl. 

"That's a lie!" shouted Bolt, and shoved her aside and burst into theroom. "None of your tricks on travelers, " said he, in his obstreperousway. "I saw your heads through the window. Good news, my boy! I've donethe trick. I wouldn't say a word till it was all settled, for Brag's agood dog, but Holdfast's a better. I've sold my building-site to somegents that want to speculate in a church, and I've made five hundredpounds profit by the sale. I'm always right, soon or late. And I'vebought a factory ready made--the Star Works; bought 'em, sir, with allthe gear and plant, and working hands. "

"The Star Works? The largest but one in Hillsborough!"

"Ay, lad. Money and pluck together, they'll beat the world. We have gota noble place, with every convenience. All we have got to do now is togo in and win. "

Young Little's eyes sparkled. "All right, " said he, "I like this way thebest. "

Mrs. Little sighed. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

In that part of London called "the City" are shady little streets, that look like pleasant retreats from the busy, noisy world; yet arestrongholds of business. 

One of these contained, and perhaps still contains, a public officefull of secrets, some droll, some sad, some terrible. The building had anarrow, insignificant front, but was of great depth, and its south sidelighted by large bay windows all stone and plate-glass; and these wereopen to the sun and air, thanks to a singular neighbor. Here, inthe heart of the City, was wedged a little rustic church, with itschurch-yard, whose bright-green grass first startled, then soothedand refreshed the eye, in that wilderness of stone--an emerald set ingranite. The grass flowed up to the south wall of the "office;" thosemassive stone windows hung over the graves; the plumed clerks could notlook out of window and doubt that all men are mortal: and the articlethe office sold was immortality. 

It was the Gosshawk Life Insurance. 

On a certain afternoon anterior to the Hillsborough scenes lastpresented, the plumed clerks were all at the south windows, looking at afuneral in the little church-yard, and passing some curious remarks;for know that the deceased was insured in the Gosshawk for nine hundredpounds, and had paid but one premium. 

The facts, as far as known, were these. Mr. Richard Martin, a Londonerby birth, but residing in Wales, went up to London to visit his brother. Toward the end of the visit the two Martins went up the river in a boat, with three more friends, and dined at Richmond. They rowed back inthe cool of the evening. At starting they were merely jovial; but theystopped at nearly all the public-houses by the water-side, and, byvisible gradations, became jolly--uproarious--sang songs--caught crabs. At Vauxhall they got a friendly warning, and laughed at it: underSouthwark bridge they ran against an abutment, and were upset in amoment: it was now dusk, and, according to their own account, they alllost sight of each other in the water. One swam ashore in Middlesex, another in Surrey, a third got to the chains of a barge, and was takenup much exhausted, and Robert Martin laid hold of the buttress itself, and cried loudly for assistance. They asked anxiously after each other, but their anxiety appeared to subside in an hour or two, when they foundthere was nobody missing but Richard Martin. Robert told the police itwas all right, Dick could swim like a cork. However, next morning hecame with a sorrowful face to say his brother had not reappeared, andbegged them to drag the river. This was done, and a body found, whichthe survivors and Mrs. Richard Martin disowned. 

The insurance office was informed, and looked into the matter; and Mrs. Martin told their agent, with a flood of tears, she believed her husbandhad taken that opportunity to desert her, and was not drowned at all. Ofcourse this went to the office directly. 

But a fortnight afterward a body was found in the water down atWoolwich, entangled in some rushes by the water-side. 

Notice was given to all the survivors. 

The friends of Robert Martin came, and said the clothes resembled thoseworn by Richard Martin; but beyond that they could not be positive. 

But, when the wife came, she recognized the body at once. 

The brother agreed with her, but, on account of the bloated anddiscolored condition of the face, asked to have the teeth examined:his poor brother, he said, had a front tooth broken short in two. Thisbroken tooth was soon found; also a pencil-case, and a key, in thepocket of the deceased. These completed the identification. 

Up to this moment the conduct of Richard Martin's relatives and friendshad been singularly apathetic; but now all was changed; they broke intoloud lamentations, and he became the best of husbands, best of men:his lightest words were sacred. Robert Martin now remembered that "poorDick" had stood and looked into that little church-yard and said, "Ifyou outlive me, Bob, bury me in this spot; father lies here. " So RobertMartin went to the church-warden, for leave to do this last sad office. The church-warden refused, very properly, but the brother's entreaties, the widow's tears, the tragedy itself, and other influences, extorted atlast a reluctant consent, coupled with certain sanatory conditions. 

The funeral was conducted unobtrusively, and the grave dug out of sightof Gosshawk. But of course it could not long escape observation; thatis to say, it was seen by the clerks; but the directors and manager wereall seated round a great table upstairs absorbed in a vital question, viz. , whether or not the Gosshawk should imitate some other companies, and insure against fire as well as death. It was the third and lastdiscussion; the minority against this new operation was small, butobstinate and warm, and the majority so absorbed in bringing them toreason, that nobody went to the window until the vote had passed, andthe Gosshawk was a Life and Fire Insurance. Then some of the gentlemenrose and stretched their legs, and detected the lugubrious enormity. "Hallo!" cried Mr. Carden, and rang a bell. Edwards, an old clerk, appeared, and, in reply to Mr. Carden, told him it was one of theirlosses being buried--Richard Martin. 

Mr. Carden said this was an insult to the office, and sent Edwards outto remonstrate. 

Edwards soon reappeared with Robert Martin, who represented, with theutmost humility, that it was the wish of the deceased, and they hadburied him, as ordered, in three feet of charcoal. 

"What, is the ceremony performed?"

"Yes, sir, all but filling in the grave. Come and see the charcoal. "

"Hang the charcoal!"

"Well, " said the humane but somewhat pompous director, "if the ceremonyhas gone so far--but, Mr. Martin, this must never recur, charcoal or nocharcoal. "

Mr. Martin promised it never should: and was soon after observed in thechurch-yard urging expedition. 

The sad company speedily dispersed, and left nothing to offend nordisgust the Life and Fire Insurance, except a new grave, and a debt ofnine hundred pounds to the heirs or assigns of Richard Martin. 

Not very far from this church-yard was a public-house; and in thatpublic-house a small parlor upstairs, and in that parlor a man, whowatched the funeral rites with great interest; but not in a becomingspirit; for his eyes twinkled with the intensest merriment all the time, and at each fresh stage of the mournful business he burst into peals oflaughter. Never was any man so thoroughly amused in the City before, atall events in business hours. 

Richard Martin's executor waited a decent time, and then presented hisclaim to the Gosshawk. His brother proved a lien on it for L300 and therest went by will to his wife. The Gosshawk paid the money after thedelay accorded by law. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

Messrs. Bolt and Little put their heads together, and played a prudentgame. They kept the works going for a month, without doing anythingnovel, except what tended to the health and comfort of their workmen. 

But, meantime, they cleared out two adjacent rooms: one was called thestudio, the other the experiment-room. 

In due course they hired a couple of single men from Birmingham to workthe machine under lock and key. 

Little with his own hands, affected an aperture in the party-wall, andthus conveyed long saws from his studio to the machine, and receivedthem back ground. 

Then men were lodged three miles off, were always kept at work half anhour later than the others, and received six pounds per week apiece, onpain of instant dismissal should they breathe a syllable. They did thework of twenty-four men; so even at that high rate of wages, the profitwas surprising. It actually went beyond the inventor's calculation, andhe saw himself at last on the road to rapid fortune, and, above all, toGrace Carden. 

This success excited Bolt's cupidity, and he refused to contract theoperation any longer. 

Then the partners had a quarrel, and nearly dissolved. However, itended in Little dismissing his Birmingham hands and locking up his"experiment-room, " and in Bolt openly devoting another room to themachines: two long, two circular. 

These machines coined money, and Bolt chuckled and laughed at hispartner's apprehensions for the space of twenty-one days. 

On the twenty-second day, the Saw-grinders' Union, which had beenstupefied at first, but had now realized the situation, sent Messrs. Bolt and Little a letter, civil and even humble; it spoke of the newinvention as one that, if adopted, would destroy their handicraft, andstarve the craftsmen and their families, and expressed an earnest hopethat a firm which had shown so much regard for the health and comfortof the workmen would not persist in a fatal course, on which they hadentered innocently and for want of practical advice. 

The partners read this note differently. Bolt saw timidity in it. Little saw a conviction, and a quiet resolution, that foreboded a sterncontest. 

No reply was sent, and the machines went on coining. 

Then came a warning to Little, not violent, but short, and rather grim. Little took it to Bolt, and he treated it with contempt. 

Two days afterward the wheel-bands vanished, and the obnoxious machinesstood still. 

Little was for going to Grotait, to try and come to terms. Boltdeclined. He bought new bands, and next day the machines went on again. 

This pertinacity soon elicited a curious epistle:

"MESSRS. BOLT AND LITTLE, --When the blood is in an impure state, brimstone and treacle is applied as a mild purgative; our taking thebands was the mild remedy; but, should the seat of disease not bereached, we shall take away the treacle, and add to the brimstone anecessary quantity of saltpetre and charcoal. 

"TANTIA TOPEE. "

On receipt of this, Little, who had tasted the last-mentioned drugs, showed such undisguised anxiety that Bolt sent for Ransome. He camedirectly, and was closeted with the firm. Bolt handed him the letters, told him the case, and begged leave to put him a question. "Is thepolice worth any thing, or nothing, in this here town?"

"It is worth something, I hope, gentlemen. "

"How much, I wonder? Of all the bands that have been stolen, and all thepeople that have been blown up, and scorched and vitrioled, and shotat, and shot, by Union men, did ever you and your bobbies nail a singlemalefactor?"

Now Mr. Ransome was a very tall man, with a handsome, dignified head, a long black beard, and pleasant, dignified manners. When short, round, vulgar Mr. Bolt addressed him thus, it really was like a terriersnapping at a Newfoundland dog. Little felt ashamed, and said Mr. Ransome had been only a few months in office in the place. "Thank you, Mr. Little, " said the chief constable. "Mr Bolt, I'll ask you a favor. Meet me at a certain place this evening, and let me reply to yourquestion then and there. "

This singular proposal excited some curiosity, and the partners acceptedthe rendezvous. Ransome came to the minute, and took the partners intothe most squalid part of this foul city. At the corner of a narrowstreet he stepped and gave a low whistle. A policeman in plain clothescame to him directly. 

"They are both in the 'Spotted Dog, ' sir, with half a dozen more. "

"Follow me, and guard the door. Will you come, too, gentlemen?"

The "Spotted Dog" was a low public, with one large room and a sandedfloor. Mr. Ransome walked in and left the door open, so that his threecompanions heard and saw all that passed. 

"Holland and Cheetham, you are wanted. "

"What for?"

"Wilde's affair. He has come to himself, and given us your names. "

On this the two men started up and were making for the door. Ransomewhipped before it. "That won't do. "

Then there was a loud clatter of rising feet, oaths, threats, and even aknife or two drawn; and, in the midst of it all, the ominous click of apistol, and then dead silence; for it was Ransome who had produced thatweapon. "Come, no nonsense, " said he. "Door's guarded, street's guarded, and I'm not to be trifled with. "

He then handed his pistol to the officer outside with an order, and, stepping back suddenly, collared Messrs. Holland and Cheetham with onemovement, and, with a powerful rush, carried them out of the house inhis clutches. Meantime the policeman had whistled, there was a confluxof bobbies, and the culprits were handcuffed and marched off to the TownHall. 

"Five years' penal servitude for that little lot, " said Ransome. 

"And now, Mr. Bolt, I have answered your question to the best of myability. "

"You have answered it like a man. Will you do as much for us?"

"I'll do my best. Let me examine the place now that none of them areabout. "

Bolt and Ransome went together, but Little went home: he had an anxietyeven more pressing, his mother's declining health. She had taken topining and fretting ever since Dr. Amboyne brought the bad news fromCairnhope; and now, instead of soothing and consoling her son, sheneeded those kind offices from him; and, I am happy to say, she receivedthem. He never spent an evening away from her. Unfortunately he did notsucceed in keeping up her spirits, and the sight of her lowered his own. 

At this period Grace Carden was unmixed comfort to him; she encouragedhim to encroach a little, and visit her twice a week instead of once, and she coaxed him to confide all his troubles to her. He did so; heconcealed from his mother that he was at war with the trade again, buthe told Grace everything, and her tender sympathy was the balm of hislife. She used to put on cheerfulness for his sake, even when she feltit least. 

One day, however, he found her less bright than usual, and she showedhim an advertisement--Bollinghope house and park for sale; and she wasnot old enough nor wise enough to disguise from him that this painedher. Some expressions of regret and pity fell from her; that annoyedHenry, and he said, "What is that to us?"

"Nothing to you: but I feel I am the cause. I have not used him well, that's certain. "

Henry said, rather cavalierly, that Mr. Coventry was probably sellinghis house for money, not for love, and (getting angry) that he hopednever to hear the man's name mentioned again. 

Grace Carden was a little mortified by his tone, but she governedherself and said sadly, "My idea of love was to be able to tell youevery thought of my heart, even where my conscience reproaches me alittle. But if you prefer to exclude one topic--and have no fear that itmay lead to the exclusion of others--"

They were on the borders of a tiff; but Henry recovered himself and saidfirmly, "I hope we shall not have a thought unshared one day; but, justfor the present, it will be kinder to spare me that one topic. "

"Very well, dearest, " said Grace. "And, if it had not been for theadvertisement--" she said no more, and the thing passed like a darkcloud between the lovers. 

Bollinghope house and park were actually sold that very week; they werepurchased, at more than their value, by a wealthy manufacturer: andthe proceeds of this sale and the timber cleared off all Coventry'smortgages, and left him with a few hundred pounds in cash, and an estatewhich had not a tree on it, but also had not a debt upon it. 

Of course he forfeited, by this stroke, his position as a countrygentleman; but that he did not care about, since it was all done withone view, to live comfortably in Paris far from the intolerable sight ofhis rival's happiness with the lady he loved. 

He bought in at the sale a few heirlooms and articles of furniture--whodoes not cling, at the last moment, to something of this kind?--andrented a couple of unfurnished rooms in Hillsborough to keep them in. He fixed the day of his departure, arranged his goods, and packed hisclothes. Then he got a letter of credit on Paris, and went about thetown buying numerous articles of cutlery. 

But this last simple act led to strange consequences. He was seen andfollowed; and in the dead of the evening, as he was cording with his ownhands a box containing a few valuables, a heavy step mounted the stair, and there was a rude knock at the door. 

Mr. Coventry felt rather uncomfortable, but he said, "Come in. "

The door was opened, and there stood Sam Cole. 

Coventry received him ill. He looked up from his packing and said, "Whaton earth do you want, sir?"

But it was not Cole's business to be offended. "Well, sir, " said he, "I've been looking out for you some time, and I saw you at our place; soI thought I'd come and tell you a bit o' news. "

"What is that?"

"It is about him you know of; begins with a hel. "

"Curse him! I don't want to hear about him. I'm leaving the country. Well, what is it?"

"He is wrong with the trade again. "

"What is that to me?--Ah! sit down, Cole, and tell me. "

Cole let him know the case, and assured him that, sooner or later, ifthreats did not prevail, the Union would go any length. 

"Should you be employed?"

"If it was a dangerous job, they'd prefer me. "

Mr. Coventry looked at his trunks, and then at Sam Cole. A small voicewhispered "Fly. " He stifled that warning voice, and told Cole he wouldstay and watch this affair, and Cole was to report to him whenever anything fresh occurred. From that hour this gentleman led the life of amalefactor, dressed like a workman, and never went out except at night. 

Messrs. Bolt and Little were rattened again, and never knew it tillmorning. This time it was not the bands, but certain axle-nuts andscrews that vanished. The obnoxious machines came to a standstill, andBolt fumed and cursed. However, at ten o'clock, he and the foreman wereinvited to the Town hall, and there they found the missing gear, and theculprit, one of the very workmen employed at high wages on the obnoxiousmachines. 

Ransome had bored a small hole in the ceiling, by means of which thisroom was watched from above; the man was observed, followed, and nabbed. The property found on him was identified and the magistrate offered theprisoner a jury, which he declined; then the magistrate dealt withthe case summarily, refused to recognize rattening, called the offense"petty larceny, " and gave the man six months' prison. 

Now as Ransome, for obvious reasons, concealed the means by which thisman had been detected, a conviction so mysterious shook that sense ofsecurity which ratteners had enjoyed for many years, and the tradesbegan to find that craft had entered the lists with craft. 

Unfortunately, those who directed the Saw-grinders' Union thoughtthe existence of the trade at stake, and this minor defeat merelyexasperated them. 

Little received a letter telling him he was acting worse than Brinsley, who had been shot in the Briggate; and asking him, as a practical man, which he thought was likely to die first, he or the Union? "You won'tlet us live; why should we let you?"

Bolt was threatened in similar style, but he merely handed the missivesto Ransome; he never flinched. 

Not so Little. He got nervous; and, in a weak moment, let his motherworm out of him that he was at war with the trades again. 

This added anxiety to her grief, and she became worse every day. 

Then Dr. Amboyne interfered, and, after a certain degree offencing--which seems inseparable from the practice of medicine--toldHenry plainly he feared the very worst if this went on; Mrs. Little wason the brink of jaundice. By his advice Henry took her to Aberystwith inWales, and, when he had settled her there, went back to his troubles. 

To those was now added a desolate home; gone was the noble face, thematernal eye, the soothing voice, the unfathomable love. He never knewall her value till now. 

One night, as he sat by himself sad and disconsolate, his servant cameto tell him there was a young woman inquiring for Mrs. Little. Henrywent out to her, and it was Jael Dence. He invited her in, and toldher what had happened. Jael saw his distress, and gave him her womanlysympathy. "And I came to tell her my own trouble, " said she; "fie onme!"

"Then tell it me, Jael. There, take off your shawl and sit down. Theyshall make you a cup of tea. "

Jael complied, with a slight blush; but as to her trouble, she said itwas not worth speaking of in that house. 

Henry insisted, however, and she said, "Mine all comes of my sistermarrying that Phil Davis. To tell you the truth, I went to church witha heavy heart on account of their both beginning with a D--Dence andDavis; for 'tis an old saying--

 "'If you change the name, and not the letter, You change for the worse, and not for the better. '

"Well, sir, it all went wrong somehow. Parson, he was South country;and when his time came to kiss the bride, he stood and looked everso helpless, and I had to tell him he must kiss her; and even then hestared foolish-like a bit before he kissed her, and the poor lass's facegetting up and the tear in her eye at being slighted. And that put Pattyout for one thing: and then she wouldn't give away the ribbon to thefastest runner--the lads run a hundred yards to the bride, for ribbonand kiss, you know;--wasn't the ribbon she grudged, poor wench; but thefastest runner in Cairnhope town is that Will Gibbon, a nasty, ugly, slobbering chap, that was always after her, and Philip jealous of him;so she did for the best, and Will Gibbon safe to win it. But the villagelads they didn't see the reason, and took it all to themselves. Was shebetter than their granddam? and were they worse than their grandsires?They ran on before, and fired the anvil when she passed: just fancy! anaffront close to her own door: and, sir, she walked in a doors crying. There was a wedding for you! George the blacksmith was that hurt attheir making free with his smithy to affront her, he lifted his armfor the first time, and pretty near killed a couple of them, poorthoughtless bodies. Well, sir, Phil Davis always took a drop, you know, and, instead of mending, he got worse; they live with father, and ofcourse he has only to go to the barrel; old-fashioned farmers like usdon't think to spy on the ale. He was so often in liquor, I checked him;but Patty indulged him in every thing. By-and-by my lord gets ever socivil to me; 'What next?' said I to myself. One fine evening we are setupstairs at our tea; in he comes drunk, and says many things we had tolook at one another and excuse. Presently he tells us all that he hasmade a mistake; he has wedded Patty, and I'm the one he likes the best. But I thought the fool was in jest; but Patty she gave a cry as if aknife had gone through her heart. Then my blood got up in a moment. 'That's an affront to all three, ' said I: 'and take your answer, yedrunken sow, ' said I. I took him by the scruff of the neck and justturned him out of the room and sent him to the bottom of the stairsheadforemost. Then Patty she quarreled with me, and father he sided withher. And so I gave them my blessing, and told them to send for mein trouble; and I left the house I was born in. It all comes of herchanging her name, and not her letter. " Here a few tears interruptedfurther comment. 

Henry consoled her, and asked her what she was going to do. 

She said she did not know; but she had a good bit of money put by, andwas not afraid of work, and, in truth, she had come there to ask Mrs. Little's advice, "poor lady. Now don't you mind me, Mr. Henry, yourtrouble is a deal worse than mine. "

"Jael, " said he, "you must come here and keep my house till my poormother is better. "

Jael colored and said, "Nay, that will not do. But if you could findme something to do in your great factory--and I hear you have enemiesthere; you might as well have a friend right in the middle of them. Eh, but I'd keep my eyes and ears open for you. "

Henry appreciated this proposal, and said there were plenty of thingsshe could do; she could hone, she could pack, she could superintend, andkeep the girls from gabbling; "That, " said he, "is the real thing thatkeeps them behind the men at work. "

So Jael Dence lodged with a female cousin in Hillsborough, and filleda position of trust in the factory of Bolt and Little: she packed, andsuperintended, and the foreman paid her thirty shillings a week. Thefirst time this was tendered her she said severely, "Is this right, young man?" meaning, "Is it not too much?"

"Oh, you will be raised if you stay with us three months. "

"Raised?" said the virtuous rustic! Then, looking loftily round on theother women, "What ever do these factory folk find to grumble at?"

Henry told Grace all about this, and she said, rather eagerly, "Ah, I amglad of that. You'll have a good watch-dog. "

It was a shrewd speech. The young woman soon found out that Little wasreally in danger, and she was all eyes and ears, and no tongue. 

Yet neither her watchfulness, nor Ransome's, prevailed entirely againstthe deviltries of the offended Union. Machinery was always breaking downby pure accident; so everybody swore, and nobody believed: the water wasall let out of the boiler, and the boiler burst. Bands were no longertaken but they were cut. And, in short, the works seemed to be under acurse. 

And, lest the true origin of all these mishaps should be doubted, eachannoyance was followed by an anonymous letter. These were generally sentto Little. A single sentence will indicate the general tone of each. 

1. "All these are but friendly warnings, to save your life if possible. "

2. "I never give in. I fight to death, and with more craft and duplicitythan Bolt and Ransome. They will never save you from me, if you persist. Ask others whether I ever failed to keep my word. "

3. "If I but move my finger, you are sent into eternity. "

Henry Little's nerve began to give way more and more. 

Meantime Cole met Mr. Coventry, and told him what was going onbeneath the surface: at the same time he expressed his surprise at theextraordinary forbearance shown by the Union. "Grotait is turning soft, I think. He will not give the word to burn Sebastopol. "

"Then do it without him. "

Cole shook his head, and said he daren't. But, after some reflection, he said there was a mate of his who was not so dependent on Grotait: hemight be tempted perhaps to do something on his own hook, Little beingwrong with the trade, and threatened. "How much would you stand?"

"How far would your friend go?"

"I'll ask him. "

Next day Cole walked coolly into the factory at dinner-time and had aconversation with Hill, one of the workmen, who he knew was actingfor the Union, and a traitor in his employers' camp. He made Hill aproposal. Hill said it was a very serious thing; he would think of it, and meet him at a certain safe place and tell him. 

Cole strolled out of the works, but not unobserved. Jael Dence hadmade it her business to know every man in the factory by sight, andobserving, from a window, a stranger in conversation with Hill, she camedown and met Cole at the gate. She started at sight of him: he did notexactly recognize her; but, seeing danger in her eye, took to his heels, and ran for it like a deer: but Jael called to some of the men to followhim, but nobody moved. They guessed it was a Union matter. Jael ran toLittle, and told him that villain, who had escaped from Raby Hall, hadbeen in the works colloguing with one of the men. 

Ransome was sent for, and Cole described to him. 

As for Hill, Jael watched him like a cat from that hour, since a manis known by his friends. She went so far as to follow him home everyevening. 

Cole got fifty pounds out of Coventry for Hill, and promised him twenty. For this sum Hill agreed to do Little. But he demanded some time tobecome proficient in the weapon he meant to use. 

During the interval events were not idle. A policeman saw a cutter and adisguised gentleman talking together, and told Ransome. He set spies todiscover, if possible, what that might mean. 

One day the obnoxious machines were stopped by an ACCIDENT to themachinery, and Little told Jael this, and said, "Have you a mind to earnfive pound a week?"

"Ay, if I could do it honestly?"

"Let us see the arm that flung Phil Davis down-stairs. "

Jael colored a little, but bared her left arm at command. 

"Good heavens!" cried Little. "What a limb! Why mine is a shrimpcompared with it. "

"Ay, mine has the bulk, but yours the pith. "

"Oh, come; if your left arm did that, what must your right be?"

"Oh, " said Jael, "you men do every thing with your right hand; but welasses know no odds. My left is as strong as my right, and both at yourservice. "

"Then come along with me. "

He took her into the "Experiment Room, " explained the machine to her, gave her a lesson or two; and so simple was the business that she soonmastered her part of it; and Little with his coat off, and Jael, withher noble arms bare, ground long saws together secretly; and Little, with Bolt's consent, charged the firm by the gross. He receivedtwenty-four pounds per week, out of which he paid Jael six, in spiteof her "How can a lass's work be worth all that?" and similarremonstrances. 

Being now once more a workman, and working with this loyal lass so manyhours a day, his spirits rose a little, and his nerves began to recovertheir tone. 

But meantime Hill was maturing his dark design. 

In going home, Little passed through one place he never much liked, itwas a longish close, with two sharp rectangular turns. 

Since he was threatened by the trade, he never entered this closewithout looking behind him. He did not much fear an attack in front, being always armed with pistols now. 

On a certain night he came to this place as usual, went as far as thefirst turn, then looked sharply round to see if he was followed; butthere was nobody behind except a woman, who was just entering the court. So he went on. 

But a little way down this close was a small public-house, and thepassage-door was ajar, and a man watching. No sooner was Little out ofsight than he emerged, and followed him swiftly on tiptoe. 

The man had in his hand a weapon that none but a Hillsborough cutlerwould have thought of; yet, as usual, it was very fit for the purpose, being noiseless and dangerous, though old-fashioned. It was a longstrong bow, all made of yew-tree. The man fitted an arrow to this, andrunning lightly to the first turn, obtained a full view of Little'sretiring figure, not fifteen yards distant. 

So well was the place chosen, that he had only to discharge his weaponand then run back. His victim could never see him. 

He took a deliberate aim at Little's back, drew the arrow to the head, and was about to loose it, when a woman's arm was flung round his neck. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

Coventry and Cole met that night near a little church. 

Hill was to join them, and tell them the result. 

Now, as it happens, Little went home rather late that night; so theseconfederates waited, alternately hoping and fearing, a considerabletime. 

Presently, something mysterious occurred that gave them a chill. Anarrow descended, as if from the clouds, and stuck quivering on a gravenot ten yards from them. The black and white feathers shone clear in themoonlight. 

To Coventry it seemed as if Heaven was retaliating on him. 

The more prosaic but quick-witted cutler, after the first stupefaction, suspected it was the very arrow destined for Little, and said so. 

"And Heaven flings it back to us, " said Coventry, and trembled in everylimb. 

"Heaven has naught to do in it. The fool has got drunk, and shot it inthe air. Anyway, it mustn't stick there to tell tales. "

Cole vaulted over the church-yard wall, drew it out of the grave, andtold Coventry to hide it. 

"Go you home, " said he. "I'll find out what this means. "

Hill's unexpected assailant dragged him back so suddenly and violentlythat the arrow went up at an angle of forty-five, and, as the man loosedthe string to defend himself, flew up into the sky, and came down full ahundred yards from the place. 

Hill twisted violently round and, dropping the bow, struck the woman inthe face with his fist; he had not room to use all his force; yet theblow covered her face with blood. She cried out, but gripped him sotight by both shoulders that he could not strike again but he kickedher savagely. She screamed, but slipped her arms down and got him tightround the waist. Then he was done for; with one mighty whirl she torehim off his feet in a moment, then dashed herself and him under her tothe ground with such ponderous violence that his head rang loud on thepavement and he was stunned for a few seconds. Ere he quite recoveredshe had him turned on his face, and her weighty knee grinding down hisshoulders, while her nimble hands whipped off her kerchief and tied hishands behind him in a twinkling. 

So quickly was it all done, that by the time Little heard the scrimmage, ascertained it was behind him, and came back to see, she was seated onher prisoner, trembling and crying after her athletic feat, and verylittle fit to cope with the man if he had not been tied. 

Little took her by the hands. "Oh, my poor Jael! What is the matter? Hasthe blackguard been insulting you?" And, not waiting for an answer, gavehim a kick that made him howl again. 

"Yes, kill him, the villain! he wanted to murder you. Oh, oh, oh!"

She could say no more, but became hysterical. 

Henry supported her tenderly, and wiped the blood from her face; and asseveral people came up, and a policeman, he gave the man in charge, onJael's authority, and he was conveyed to the station accordingly, he andhis bow. 

They took Jael Dence to a chemist's shop, and gave her cold water andsalts: the first thing she did, when she was quite herself, was to seizeHenry Little's hand and kiss it with such a look of joy as brought tearsinto his eyes. 

Then she told her story, and was taken in a cab to the police-office, and repeated her story there. 

Then Henry took her to Woodbine Villa, and Grace Carden turned very paleat Henry's danger, though passed: she wept over Jael, and kissed her;and nobody could make enough of her. 

Grace Carden looked wistfully at Henry and said, "Oh that I had a strongarm to defend you!"

"Oh, Miss Grace, " said Jael, "don't you envy me. Go away with him fromthis wicked, murdering place. That will be a deal better than any thingI can do for him. "

"Ah, would to Heaven I could this minute!" said Grace, clinging tenderlyto his shoulder. She insisted on going home with him and sharing hisperil for once. 

Hill was locked up for the night. 

In the morning a paper was slipped into his hand. "Say there was noarrow. "

He took this hint, and said that he was innocent as a babe of any harm. He had got a bow to repair for a friend, and he went home twanging it, was attacked by a woman, and, in his confusion, struck her once, but didnot repeat the blow. 

Per contra, Jael Dence distinctly swore there was an arrow, with twowhite feathers and one black one, and that the prisoner was shooting atMr. Little. She also swore that she had seen him colloguing with anotherman, who had been concerned in a former attempt on Mr. Little, andcaptured, but had escaped from Raby Hall. 

On this the magistrate declined to discharge the prisoner; but, as noarrow could be found at present, admitted him to bail, two securitiesfifty pounds each, which was an indirect way of imprisoning him untilthe Assizes. 

This attempt, though unsuccessful in one way, was very effective inanother. It shook Henry Little terribly; and the effect was enhancedby an anonymous letter he received, reminding him there were plenty ofnoiseless weapons. Brinsley had been shot twice, and no sound heard. "When your time comes, you'll never know what hurt you. " The sense ofa noiseless assassin eternally dogging him preyed on Little's mindand spirits, and at last this life on the brink of the grave became sointolerable that he resolved to leave Hillsborough, but not alone. 

He called on Grace Carden, pale and agitated. 

"Grace, " said he, "do you really love me?"

"Oh, Henry! Do I love you?"

"Then save me from this horrible existence. Oh, my love, if you knewwhat it is to have been a brave man, and to find your courage all oozingaway under freezing threats, that you know, by experience, will befollowed by some dark, subtle, bloody deed or other. There, they havebrought me down to this, that I never go ten steps without lookingbehind me, and, when I go round a corner, I turn short and run back, andwait at the corner to see if an assassin is following me. I tremble atthe wind. I start at my own shadow. "

Grace threw her arms round his neck, and stopped him with tears andkisses. 

"Ah, bless you, my love!" he cried, and kissed her fondly. "You pityme--you will save me from this miserable, degrading life?"

"Ah, that I will, if I can, my own. "

"You can. "

"Then tell me how. "

"Be my wife--let us go to the United States together. Dearest, mypatents are a great success. We are making our fortune, though we riskour lives. In America I could sell these inventions for a large sum, orwork them myself at an enormous profit. Be my wife, and let us fly thishellish place together. "

"And so I would in a moment; but" (with a deep sigh) "papa would neverconsent to that. "

"Dispense with his consent. "

"Oh, Henry; and marry under my father's curse!"

"He could not curse you, if he love you half as well as I do; and if hedoes not, why sacrifice me, and perhaps my life, to him?"

"Henry, for pity's sake, think of some other way. Why this violent hasteto get rich? Have a little patience. Mr. Raby will not always beabroad. Oh, pray give up Mr. Bolt, and go quietly on at peace with thesedreadful Trades. You know I'll wait all my life for you. I will implorepapa to let you visit me oftener. I will do all a faithful, loving girlcan do to comfort you. "

"Ay, " said Henry, bitterly, "you will do anything but the one thing Iask. "

"Yes, anything but defy my father. He is father and mother both to me. How unfortunate we both are! If you knew what it costs me to deny youanything, if you knew how I long to follow you round the world--"

She choked with emotion, and seemed on the point of yielding, after all. 

But he said, bitterly, "You long to follow me round the world, and youwon't go a twelve-days' voyage with me to save my life. Ah, it is alwaysso. You don't love me as poor Jael Dence loves me. She saved my lifewithout my asking her; but you won't do it when I implore you. "

"Henry, my own darling, if any woman on earth loves you better thanI do, for God's sake marry her, and let me die to prove I loved you alittle. "

"Very well, " said he, grinding his teeth. "Next week I leave this placewith a wife. I give you the first offer, because I love you. I shallgive Jael the second, because she loves me. "

So then he flung out of the room, and left Grace Carden half fainting onthe sofa, and drowned in tears. 

But before he got back to the works he repented his violence, and hisheart yearned for her more than ever. 

With that fine sense of justice which belongs to love, he spoke roughlyto Jael Dence. 

She stared, and said nothing, but watched him furtively, and saw hiseyes fill with tears at the picture memory recalled of Grace's pale faceand streaming eyes. 

She put a few shrewd questions, and his heart was so full he could notconceal the main facts, though he suppressed all that bore referenceto Jael herself. She took Grace's part, and told him he was all in thewrong; why could not he go to America alone, and sell his patents, andthen come back and marry Grace with the money? "Why drag her across thewater, to make her quarrel with her father?"

"Why, indeed?" said Henry: "because I'm not the man I was. I have nomanhood left. I have not the courage to fight the Trades, nor yet thecourage to leave the girl I love so dearly. "

"Eh, poor lad, " said Jael, "thou hast courage enough; but it has beentoo sore tried, first and last. You have gone through enough to break aman of steel. "

She advised him to go and make his submission at once. 

He told her she was his guardian angel, and kissed her, in the warmthof his gratitude; and he went back to Woodbine Villa, and asked Grace'sforgiveness, and said he would go alone to the States and come back withplenty of money to satisfy Mr. Carden's prudence, and--

Grace clutched him gently with both hands, as if to hinder from leavingher. She turned very pale, and said, "Oh my heart!"

Then she laid her head on his shoulder, and wept piteously. 

He comforted her, and said, "What is it? a voyage of twelve days! Andyet I shall never have the courage to bid you good-by. "

"Nor I you, my own darling. "

Having come to this resolution, he was now seized with a fear that hewould be assassinated before he could carry it out; to diminish thechances, he took up his quarters at the factory, and never went out atnight. Attached to the works was a small building near the water-side. Jael Dence occupied the second floor of it. He had a camp-bed set up onthe first floor, and established a wire communication with the policeoffice. At the slightest alarm he could ring a bell in Ransome's ear. Healso clandestinely unscrewed a little postern door that his predecessorshad closed, and made a key to the lock, so that if he should everbe compelled to go out at night he might baffle his foes, who wouldnaturally watch the great gate for his exit. 

With all this he became very depressed and moody, and alarmed DoctorAmboyne, who remembered his father's end. 

The doctor advised him to go and see his mother for a day or two; but heshook his head, and declined. 

A prisoner detained for want of bail is allowed to communicate with hisfriends, and Grotait soon let Hill know he was very angry with him forundertaking to do Little without orders. Hill said that the job wasgiven him by Cole, who was Grotait's right-hand man, and Grotait hadbetter bail him, otherwise he might be induced to tell tales. 

Grotait let him stay in prison three days, and then sent twohouseholders with the bail. 

Hill was discharged, and went home. At dusk he turned out to find Cole, and tracing him from one public-house to another, at last lighted on himin company with Mr. Coventry. 

This set him thinking; however, he held aloof till they parted; and thenfollowing Cole, dunned him for his twenty pounds. 

Cole gave him five pounds on account. Hill grumbled, and threatened. 

Grotait sent for both men, and went into a passion, and threatened tohang them both if they presumed to attack Little's person again in anyway. "It is the place I mean to destroy, " said Grotait, "not the man. "

Cole conveyed this to Coventry, and it discouraged him mightily, and hetold Cole he should give it up and go abroad. 

But soon after this some pressure or other was brought to bear onGrotait, and Cole, knowing this, went to him, and asked him whether Boltand Little were to be done or not. 

"It is a painful subject, " said Grotait. 

"It is a matter of life and death to us, " said Cole. 

"That is true. But mind--the place, and not the man. " Cole assented, andthen Grotait took him on to a certain bridge, and pointed out theone weak side of Bob and Little's fortress, and showed him how theengine-chimney could be got at and blown down, and so the works stoppedentirely: "And I'll tell you something, " said he; "that chimney is builton a bad foundation, and was never very safe; so you have every chance. "

Then they chaffered about the price, and at last Grotait agreed to givehim L20. 

Cole went to Coventry, and told how far Grotait would allow him to go:"But, " said he, "L20 is not enough. I run an even chance of being hungor lagged. "

"Go a step beyond your instructions, and I'll give you a hundredpounds. "

"I daren't, " said Cole: "unless there was a chance to blow up the placewith the man in it. " Then, after a moment's reflection, he said: "I hearhe sleeps in the works. I must find out where. "

Accordingly, he talked over one of the women in the factory, and gainedthe following information, which he imparted to Mr. Coventry:

Little lived and slept in a detached building recently erected, andthe young woman who had overpowered Hill slept in a room above him. Shepassed in the works for his sweetheart, and the pair were often lockedup together for hours at a time in a room called the "Experiment Room. "

This information took Coventry quite by surprise, and imbittered hishatred of Little. While Cole was felicitating him on the situation ofthe building, he was meditating how to deal his hated rival a stab ofanother kind. 

Cole, however, was single-minded in the matter; and the next day he tooka boat and drifted slowly down the river, and scanned the place verycarefully. 

He came at night to Coventry, and told him he thought he might perhapsbe able to do the trick without seeming to defy Grotait's instructions. "But, " said he, "it is a very dangerous job. Premises are watched: and, what do you think? they have got wires up now that run over the streetto the police office, and Little can ring a bell in Ransome's room, andbring the bobbies across with a rush in a moment. It isn't as it wasunder the old chief constable; this one's not to be bought nor blinded. I must risk a halter. "

"You shall have fifty pounds more. "

"You are a gentleman, sir. I should like to have it in hard sovereigns. I'm afraid of notes. They get traced somehow. "

"You shall have it all in sovereigns. "

"I want a little in advance, to buy the materials. They are costly, especially the fulminating silver. "

Coventry gave him ten sovereigns, and they parted with the understandingthat Cole should endeavor to blow up the premises on some night whenLittle was in them, and special arrangements were made to secure this. 

Henry Little and Grace Carden received each of them, an anonymousletter, on the same day. 

Grace Carden's ran thus:--

"I can't abide to see a young lady made a fool of by a villain. Mr. Little have got his miss here: they dote on each other. She lives in theworks, and so do he, ever since she came, which he usen't afore. Theyare in one room, as many as eight hours at a stretch, and that roomalways locked. It is the talk of all the girls. It is nought to me, butI thought it right you should know, for it is quite a scandal. She is astrapping country lass, with a queerish name. This comes from a strange, but a well-wisher. 

"FAIR PLAY. "

The letter to Henry Little was as follows:--

"The reason of so many warnings and ne'er a blow, you had friends in thetrade. But you have worn them out. You are a doomed man. Prepare to meetyour God. 

"[Drawing of coffin. ]"

This was the last straw on the camel's back, as the saying is. 

He just ground it in his hand, and then he began to act. 

He set to work, packed up models, and dispatched them by train; clothesditto, and wrote a long letter to his mother. 

Next day he was busy writing and arranging papers till the afternoon. Then he called on Grace, as related, and returned to the works about sixo'clock: he ordered a cup of tea at seven, which Jael brought him. Shefound him busy writing letters, and one of these was addressed to GraceCarden. 

That was all she saw of him that night; for she went to bed early, andshe was a sound sleeper. 

It was nine o'clock of this same evening. 

Mr. Coventry, disguised in a beard, was walking up and down a certainstreet opposite the great door of the works. 

He had already walked and lounged about two hours. At last Cole joinedhim for a moment and whispered in a tone full of meaning, "Will it donow?"

Coventry's teeth chattered together as he replied, "Yes; now is thetime. "

"Got the money ready?"

"Yes. "

"Let us see it. "

"When you have done what you promised me. "

"That very moment?"

"That very moment. "

"Then I'll tell you what you must do. In about an hour go on the newbridge, and I'll come to you; and, before I've come to you many minutes, you'll see summut and hear summut that will make a noise in Hillsbro', and, perhaps, get us both into trouble. "

"Not if you are as dexterous as others have been. "

"Others! I was in all those jobs. But this is the queerest. I go to itas if I was going to a halter. No matter, a man can but die once. "

And, with these words, he left him and went softly down to thewater-side. There, in the shadow of the new bridge, lay a little boat, and in it a light-jointed ladder, a small hamper, and a basket of tools. The rowlocks were covered with tow, and the oars made no noise whatever, except the scarce audible dip in the dark stream. It soon emerged belowthe bridge like a black spider crawling down the stream, and melted outof sight the more rapidly that a slight fog was rising. 

Cole rowed softly past the works, and observed a very faint lightin Little's room. He thought it prudent to wait till this should beextinguished, but it was not extinguished. Here was an unexpected delay. 

However, the fog thickened a little, and this encouraged him to venture;he beached the boat very gently on the muddy shore, and began his work, looking up every now and then at that pale light, and ready to fly atthe first alarm. 

He took out of the boat a large varnish-can, which he had filledwith gunpowder, and wrapped tightly round with wire, and also witha sash-line; this can was perforated at the side, and a strong tubescrewed tightly into it; the tube protruded twelve inches from the canin shape of an S: by means of this a slow-burning fuse was connectedwith the powder; some yards of this fuse were wrapt loosely round thecan. 

Cole crept softly to the engine-chimney, and, groping about for theright place, laid the can in the engine bottom and uncoiled the fuse. Hetook out of his pocket some small pieces of tile, and laid the fuse dryon these. 

Then he gave a sigh of relief, and crept back to the boat. 

Horrible as the action was, he had done all this without much fear, andwith no remorse, for he was used to this sort of work; but now he hadto commit a new crime, and with new and terrible materials, which he hadnever handled in the way of crime before. 

He had in his boat a substance so dangerous that he had made a nest ofsoft cotton for the receptacle which held it; and when the boat touchedthe shore, light as the contact was, he quaked lest his imprisonedgiant-devil should go off and blow him to atoms. 

He put off touching it till the last moment. He got his jointed ladder, set it very softly underneath the window where the feeble gas-light was, and felt about with his hands for the grating he had observed when hefirst reconnoitered the premises from the river. He found it, but it wasso high that he had to reach a little, and the position was awkward forworking. 

The problem was how to remove one of those bars, and so admit hisinfernal machine; it was about the shape and size of an ostrich's egg. 

It must be done without noise, for the room above him was Little's, andLittle, he knew, had a wire by means of which he could summon Ransomeand the police in the turn of a hand. 

The cold of the night, and the now present danger, made Cole shiver allover, and he paused. 

But he began again, and, taking out a fine steel saw highly tempered, proceeded to saw the iron slowly and gently, ready at the first alarm tospring from his ladder and run away. 

With all his caution, steel grated against steel, and made too muchnoise in the stilly night. He desisted. He felt about, and found thegrating was let into wood, not stone; he oiled the saw, and it cut thewood like butter; he made two cuts like a capital V, and a bar of thegrating came loose; he did the same thing above, and the bar came out. 

Cole now descended the ladder, and prepared for the greatest danger ofall. He took from its receptacle the little metal box lined with glazedpaper, which contained the fulminating silver and its fuse; and, holdingit as gently as possible, went and mounted the ladder again, putting hisfoot down as softly as a cat. 

But he was getting colder and colder, and at this unfortunate momenthe remembered that, when he was a lad, a man had been destroyed byfulminating silver--quite a small quantity--in a plate over which he wasleaning; yet the poor wretch's limbs had been found in different places, and he himself had seen the head; it had been torn from the trunk andhurled to an incredible distance. 

That trunkless head he now fancied he saw, in the middle of the fog; andhis body began to sweat cold, and his hands to shake so that he couldhardly told the box. But if he let it fall--

He came hastily down the ladder and sat down on the dirty ground, withthe infernal engine beside him. 

By-and-by he got up and tried to warm his hands and feet by motion, andat last he recovered his fortitude, and went softly and cat-like up thesteps again, in spite of the various dangers he incurred. 

Of what was this man's mind composed, whom neither a mere bribe couldbuy to do this deed, nor pure fanaticism without a bribe; but, whereboth inducements met, neither the risk of immediate death, nor ofimprisonment for life, nor both dangers united, could divert him fromhis deadly purpose, though his limbs shook, and his body was bedewedwith a cold perspiration?

He reached the top of the ladder, he put his hand inside the grate;there was an aperture, but he could not find the bottom. He hesitated. 

Here was a fresh danger: if he let the box fall it might explode at onceand send him to eternity. 

Once more he came softly down, and collected all the tow and wool hecould find. He went up the ladder and put these things through thegrating; they formed a bed. 

Then he went back for the fatal box, took it up the ladder with beatingheart, laid it softly in its bed, uncoiled the fuse and let it hangdown. 

So now these two fiendish things were placed, and their devilish tailshanging out behind them. The fuses had been cut with the utmost nicetyto burn the same length of time--twelve minutes. 

But Cole was too thoughtful and wary to light the fuses until everythingwas prepared for his escape. He put the ladder on board the boat, disposed the oars so that he could use them at once; then crept to theengine-chimney, kneeled down beside the fuse, looked up at the faintlight glimmering above, and took off his hat. 

With singular cunning and forethought he had pasted a piece of sandpaperinto his hat. By this means he lighted a lucifer at once, and kept itout of sight from the windows, and also safe from the weather; he drewthe end of the fuse into the hat, applied the match to it out of sight, then blew the match out and darted to his other infernal machine. Inless than ten seconds he lighted that fuse too; then stepped into theboat, and left those two devilish sparks creeping each on its fatalerrand. He pulled away with exulting bosom, beating heart, and creepingflesh. He pulled swiftly up stream, landed at the bridge, staggered upthe steps, and found Coventry at his post, but almost frozen, and sickof waiting. 

He staggered up to him and gasped out, "I've done the trick, give me thebrass, and let me go. I see a halter in the air. " His teeth chattered. 

But Coventry, after hoping and fearing for two hours and a half, hadlost all confidence in his associate, and he said, "How am I to knowyou've done anything?"

"You'll see and you'll hear, " said Cole. "Give me the brass. "

"Wait till I see and hear, " was the reply. 

"What, wait to be nabbed? Another minute, and all the town will be outafter me. Give it me, or I'll take it. "

"Will you?" And Coventry took out a pistol and cocked it. Cole recoiled. 

"Look here, " said Coventry; "there are one hundred and fifty sovereignsin this bag. The moment I receive proof you have not deceived me, I giveyou the bag. "

"Here, where we stand?"

"Here, on this spot. "

"Hush! not so loud. Didn't I hear a step?"

They both listened keenly. The fog was thick by this time. 

Cole whispered, "Look down the river. I wonder which will go off first?It is very cold; very. " And he shook like a man in an ague. 

Both men listened, numbed with cold, and quivering with the expectationof crime. 

A clock struck twelve. 

At the first stroke the confederates started and uttered a cry. Theywere in that state when everything sudden shakes men like thunder. 

All still again, and they listened and shook again with fog and grime. 

Sudden a lurid flash, and a report, dull and heavy, and something tallseemed to lean toward them from the sky, and there was a mighty rushingsound, and a cold wind in their faces, and an awful fall of masonry onthe water, and the water spurted under the stroke. The great chimney hadfallen in the river. At this very moment came a sharp, tremendous reportlike a clap of thunder close at hand. It was so awful, that both bag andpistol fell out of Coventry's hand and rung upon the pavement, and hefled, terror-stricken. 

Cole, though frightened, went down on his knees, and got the bag, andstarted to run the other way. 

But almost at the first step he ran against a man, who was runningtoward him. 

Both were staggered by the shock, and almost knocked down. 

But the man recovered himself first, and seized Cole with a grip ofiron. 

When Coventry had run a few steps he recovered his judgment so far asto recollect that this would lay him open to suspicion. He left offrunning, and walked briskly instead. 

Presently the great door of the works was opened, and the porterappeared crying wildly for help, and that the place was on fire. 

The few people that were about made a rush, and Coventry, driven by anawful curiosity, went in with them; for why should he be suspected anymore than they?

He had not gone in half a minute when Mr. Ransome arrived with severalpolicemen, and closed the doors at once against all comers. 

Strange to say, the last explosion had rung the bell in thepolice-office; hence this prompt appearance of the police. 

The five or six persons who got in with Coventry knew nothing, andran hither and thither. Coventry, better informed, darted at once toLittle's quarters, and there beheld an awful sight; the roof presentedthe appearance of a sieve: of the second floor little remained but afew of the joists, and these were most of them broken and stood on andacross each other, like a hedgehog's bristles. 

In Little's room, a single beam in the center, with a fragment of board, kept its place, but the joists were all dislocated or broken in two, andsticking up here and there in all directions: huge holes had been blownin the walls of both rooms and much of the contents of the rooms blownout by them; so vast were these apertures, that it seemed wonderful howthe structure hung together; the fog was as thick in the dismemberedand torn building as outside, but a large gas-pipe in Little's room waswrenched into the form of a snake and broken, and the gas set on fireand flaring, so that the devastation was visible; the fireplace alsohung on, heaven knows how. 

Coventry cast his eyes round, and recoiled with horror at what he haddone: his foot struck something; it was the letter-box, full of letters, still attached to the broken door. By some instinct of curiosity hestooped and peered. There was one letter addressed "Grace Carden. "

He tried to open the box: he could not: he gave it a wrench, it wasa latticed box, and came to pieces. He went down the stairs with thefragments and the letters in his hand; feet approached, and he heard avoice close to him say, "This way, Mr. Ransome, for God's sake!" A sortof panic seized him; he ran back, and in his desperation jumped on tothe one beam that was standing, and from that through the open wall, andfell on the soft mud by the river bank. Though the ground was soft, the descent shook him and imbedded him so deeply he could not extricatehimself for some time. But terror lends energy, and he was nowthoroughly terrified: he thrust the letters in his pocket, and, being anexcellent swimmer, dashed at once into the river; but he soon found itchoked up with masonry and debris of every kind: he coasted this, gotinto the stream, and swam across to the other side. Then taking thelowest and darkest streets, contrived at last to get home, wet andfilthy, and quaking. 

Ransome and his men examined the shattered building within and without;but no trace could be found of any human being, alive or dead. 

Then they got to the river-side with lights, and here they foundfoot-marks. Ransome set men to guard these from being walked over. 

Attention was soon diverted from these. Several yards from the tornbuilding, a woman was found lying all huddled together on a heap ofbroken masonry. She was in her night-dress, and a counterpane half overher. Her forehead and head were bleeding, and she was quite insensible. The police recognized her directly. It was Jael Dence. 

She was alive, though insensible, and Ransome had her conveyed at onceto the infirmary. 

"Bring more lights to the water-side, " said he: "the explosion has actedin that direction. "

Many torches were brought. Keen eyes scanned the water. One or twopolicemen got out upon the ruins of the chimney, and went ankle-deep inwater. But what they sought could not be found. Ransome said he was gladof it. Everybody knew what he meant. 

He went back to Little's room, and examined it minutely. In the passagehe found a card-case. It was lying on the door. Ransome took it upmechanically, and put it in his pocket. He did not examine it at thistime: he took for granted it was Little's. He asked one of his menwhether a man had not been seen in that room. The officer said, "Yes. "

"Did he come down?"

"No; and I can't think how he got out. "

"It is plain how he got out; and that accounts for something I observedin the mud. Now, Williams, you go to my place for that stuff I use totake the mold of footprints. Bring plenty. Four of you scour the town, and try and find out who has gone home with river-mud on his shoes ortrousers. Send me the porter. "

When the porter came, he asked him whether Mr. Little had slept in theworks. 

The porter could not say for certain. 

"Well, but what was his habit?"

"He always slept here of late. "

"Where did you see him last?"

"I let him into the works. "

"When?"

"I should think about seven o'clock. "

"Did you let him out again?"

"No, Mr. Ransome. "

"Perhaps you might, and not recollect. Pray think. "

The porter shook his head. 

"Are you sure you did not let him out?"

"I am quite sure of that. "

"Then the Lord have mercy on his soul!"

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

That was Grace Carden's first anonymous letter. Its contents curdledher veins with poison. The poor girl sat pale and benumbed, turning theletter in her hand, and reading the fatal words over and over again. 

There was a time when she would have entirely disbelieved this slander;but now she remembered, with dismay, how many things had combined toattach Henry to Jael Dence. And then the letter stated such hard facts;facts unknown to her, but advanced positively. 

But what terrified her most was that Henry had so lately told her JaelDence loved him best. 

Yet her tossed and tortured mind laid hold of this comfort, that not theman only, but the woman too, were loyal, faithful spirits. Could theyboth have changed? Appearances are deceitful, and might have deceivedthis anonymous writer. 

After hours of mere suffering, she began to ask herself what she shoulddo?

Her first feminine impulse was to try and find out the truth withoutHenry's aid. 

But no; on second thoughts she would be open and loyal, show Henry theletter, and ask him to tell her how much truth, if any, there was in it. 

The agony she endured was a lesson to her. Now she knew what jealousywas; and saw at once she could not endure its torments. She thought toherself he was quite right to make her dismiss Mr. Coventry, and he mustdismiss Jael; she should insist on it. 

This resolution formed, she lived on thorns, awaiting Henry Little'snext visit. 

He came next day, but she was out. 

She asked the servant if he had said anything. 

The servant said, "He seemed a good deal put out at first, miss, butafterward he said, 'No, it was all for the best. '"

This was another blow. Grace connected these words of Henry in somemysterious way with the anonymous letter, and spent the night crying:but in the morning, being a brave, high-spirited girl, she resolved totake a direct course; she would go down to the works, and request anexplanation on the premises. She would see the room where Henry was saidto pass so many hours with Jael, and she would show him that the man sheloved, and lived for, must place himself above suspicion, or lose herforever. "And if he quarrels with me for that, " she thought, "why, Ican die. " She actually carried out her resolution, and went early nextmorning to the works to demand an explanation. She took the letter withher. As she went along she discussed in her own mind how she shouldproceed, and at last she resolved to just hand him the letter and fixher eye on him. His face would tell her the truth. 

She drove up to the great gate; there were a good many people about, talking, in excited groups. 

The porter came out to her. She said she wished to see Mr. Little. 

The porter stared: the people within hearing left off talking, andstared too, at her, and then at one another. 

At last the porter found his voice. "Mr. Little! why, we can't find himanywhere, dead or alive. "

Just then Ransome came out, and, seeing Miss Carden, gave a start, andlooked much concerned. 

Grace noticed this look, and her own face began to fill with surprise, and then with alarm. "Not to be found!" she faltered. 

She did not know Mr. Ransome, but he knew her; and he came to thecarriage-window and said, in a low voice, "Miss Carden, I am thechief-constable. I would advise you to return home. The fact is, therehas been an explosion here, and a young woman nearly killed. "

"Poor creature! But Mr. Little! Oh, sir! Oh, sir!"

"We can't find him, " said Ransome, solemnly: "and we fear--we sadlyfear--"

Grace uttered a low cry, and then sat trembling. 

Ransome tried to console her; said it was just possible he might havenot slept in the works. 

The porter shook his head. 

Grace sprung from the carriage. "Show me the place, " said she, hoarsely. 

Ransome demurred. "It is an ugly sight for any one to see. "

"Who has a better right to see it than I? I shall find him if he isthere. Give me your arm: I have heard him speak of you. "

Then Ransome yielded reluctantly, and took her to the place. 

He showed her Henry's room, all rent and mutilated. 

She shuddered, and, covering her face with her hands, leaned halffainting against her conductor; but soon she shook this off, and becameinspired with strange energy, though her face was like marble. 

She drew him, indeed almost dragged him, hither and thither, questioninghim, and listening to everybody's conjectures; for there were loudgroups here of work-people and towns-people. 

Some thought he was buried under the great chimney in the river, othersintimated plainly their fear that he was blown to atoms. 

At each suggestion Grace Carden's whole body winced and quivered as ifthe words were sword cuts, but she would not be persuaded to retire. "No, no, " she cried, "amongst so many, some one will guess right. I'llhear all they think, if I die on the spot: die! What is life to menow? Ah! what is that woman saying?" And she hurried Ransome toward awork-woman who was haranguing several of her comrades. 

The woman saw Ransome coming toward her with a strange lady. 

"Ah!" said she, "here's the constable. Mr. Ransome, will ye tell mewhere you found the lass, yesternight?"

"She was lying on that heap of bricks: I marked the place with twopieces of chalk; ay, here they are; her head lay here, and her feethere. "

"Well, then, " said the woman, "he will not be far from that place. Youclear away those bricks and rubbish, and you will find him underneath. She was his sweetheart, that is well known here; and he was safe to bebeside her when the place was blown up. "

"No such thing, " said Ransome, angrily, and casting a side-look atGrace. "She lay on the second floor, and Mr. Little on the first floor. "

"Thou simple body, " said the woman. "What's a stair to a young man whena bonny lass lies awaiting him, and not a soul about? They were a dealtoo close together all day, to be distant at night. "

A murmur of assent burst at once from all the women. 

Grace's body winced and quivered, but her marble face never stirred, nordid her lips utter a sound. 

"Come away from their scandalous tongues, " said Ransome, eagerly. 

"No, " said Grace; and such a "No. " It was like a statue uttering a chipof its own marble. 

Then she stood quivering a moment; then, leaving Ransome's arm, shedarted up to the place where Jael Dence had been found. 

She stood like a bird on the broken masonry, and opened her beautifuleyes in a strange way, and demanded of all her senses whether the bodyof him she loved lay beneath her feet. 

After a minute, during which every eye was riveted on her, she said, "Idon't believe it; I don't feel him near me. But I will know. "

She took out her purse full of gold, and held it up to the women. "Thisfor you, if you will help me. " Then, kneeling down, she began to tearup the bricks and throw them, one after another, as far as her strengthpermitted. The effect on the work-women was electrical: they swarmedon the broken masonry, and began to clear it away brick by brick. Theyworked with sympathetic fury, led by this fair creature, whose whitehands were soon soiled and bloody, but never tired. In less than an hourthey had cleared away several wagon-loads of debris. 

The body of Henry Little was not there. 

Grace gave her purse to the women, and leaned heavily on Mr. Ransome'sarm again. He supported her out of the works. 

As soon as they were alone, she said, "Is Jael Dence alive or dead?"

"She was alive half an hour ago. "

"Where is she?"

"At the hospital. "

"Take me to the hospital. "

He took her to the hospital, and soon they stood beside a clean littlebed, in which lay the white but still comely face of Jael Dence:her luxuriant hair was cut close, and her head bandaged; but for hermajestic form, she looked a fair, dying boy. 

"Stand back, " said Grace, "and let me speak to her. " Then she leanedover Jael, where she lay. 

Gentle women are not all gentleness. Watch them, especially in contactwith their own sex, and you shall see now and then a trait of the wildanimal. Grace Carden at this moment was any thing but dove-like; it wasmore like a falcon the way she clutched the bedclothes, and towered overthat prostrate figure, and then, descending slowly nearer and nearer, plunged her eyes into those fixed and staring orbs of Jael Dence. 

So she remained riveted. Had Jael been conscious, and culpable, nothingcould have escaped a scrutiny so penetrating. 

Even unconscious as she was, Jael's brain and body began to show somesigns they were not quite impervious to the strange magnetic power whichbesieged them so closely. When Grace's eyes had been close to hers abouta minute, Jael Dence moved her head slightly to the left, as if thoseeyes scorched her. 

But Grace moved her own head to the right, rapid as a snake, and fixedher again directly. 

Jael Dence's bosom gave a heave. 

"Where--is--Henry Little?" said Grace, still holding her tight by theeye, and speaking very slowly, and in such a tone, low, but solemn andcommanding; a tone that compelled reply. 

"Where--is--Henry Little?"

When this was so repeated, Jael moved a little, and her lips began toquiver. 

"Where--is--Henry Little?"

Jael's lips opened feebly, and some inarticulate sounds issued fromthem. 

"Where--is--Henry Little?"

Jael Dence, though unconscious, writhed and moaned so that the headnurse interfered, and said she could not have the patient tormented. 

Ransome waved her aside, but taking Grace Carden's hand drew her gentlyaway. 

She made no positive resistance; but, while her body yielded andretired, her eye remained riveted on Jael Dence, and her hand clutchedthe air like a hawk's talons, unwilling to lose her prey, and then sheturned so weak, Ransome had to support her to her carriage. 

As Grace's head sunk on Ransome's shoulder, Jael Dence's eyes closed forthe first time. 

As Ransome was lifting Grace Carden into the carriage, she said, in asort of sleepy voice, "Is there no way out of these works but one?"

"Not that I know of; but I will go at once and see. Shall he drive youhome?"

"Yes. No--to Dr. Amboyne. "

Dr. Amboyne was gone to Woodbine Villa. 

She waited in his study, moving about the room all the time, with herface of marble, and her poor restless hands. 

At last the doctor returned: they told him at the door Miss Carden wasthere; he came in to her with both hands extended, and his face workingwith emotion. 

She fell sobbing into his arms; sobbing, but not a tear. 

"Is there any hope?"

"I have one. May he not have left the country in a fit of despair? Heoften threatened. He talked of going to the United States. "

"So he did. Ah, he called on me yesterday afternoon. Might not that havebeen to bid me good-by?"

She looked so imploringly in Dr. Amboyne's face that he assented, thoughfull of doubt. 

And now there was a ring at the bell, and Mr. Ransome came to say therewas a little postern gate by which Mr. Little might possibly have goneout and the porter not seen him; and, what was more, this gate, by allaccounts, had been recently opened: it was closed before Bolt and Littletook the premises. 

Mr. Ransome added that he should now make it his business to learn, ifpossible, whether it had been opened by Mr. Little's orders. 

Grace thanked him earnestly, and looked hopeful; so did Dr. Amboyne. 

"But, doctor, " said Grace, "if he has gone away at all, he must havetold somebody. Even if there was nobody he loved, he would tell--ah! Mr. Bolt!!"

"You are right. Let us go to him at once. "

They found Mr. Bolt in quite a different frame of mind from their own;he was breathing vengeance. However, he showed some feeling for Grace, and told the doctor plainly he feared the worst. Little had beendownhearted for some time, and at last he (Bolt) had lost patience withhim, and had proposed to him to take an annual payment of nine hundredpounds instead of a share, and leave the concern. Little had asked twodays to consider this proposal. "Now, " argued Bolt, "if he meant toleave England, he could not do better than take my offer: and he wouldhave taken it before he left. He would have called, or else sent me aletter. But no; not a word! It's a bad job: I'm fond of money, but I'dgive a few thousands to see him alive again. But I don't think I evershall. There are five hundred thousand bricks of ours in that river, anda foot and a half of mud. "

While they were both shuddering at this dark allusion, he went off intoidle threats, and Grace left him, sick and cold, and clinging to Dr. Amboyne like a drowning woman. 

"Have courage, " said Dr. Amboyne. "There is one chance left us. Hismother! I will telegraph to Aberystwith. "

They drove together to the telegraph-office, and sent a telegram. Thedoctor would not consent to frighten Mrs. Little to death. He simplyasked whether her son had just visited or written to her. The answer waspaid for; but four hours elapsed, and no answer came. 

Then Grace implored the doctor to go with her to Aberystwith. He lookedgrave, and said she was undertaking too much. She replied, almostfiercely, that she must do all that could be done, or she should go mad. 

"But your father, my dear!"

"He is in London. I will tell him all when he returns. He would let mego anywhere with you. I must go; I will!"

At four o'clock they were in the train. They spoke to each other butlittle on the way; their hearts were too full of dire forebodings totalk about nothings. But, when they were in the fly at Aberystwith, going from the station to Mrs. Little's lodgings, Grace laid her head onher friend's shoulder and said, "Oh, doctor, it has come to this; I hopehe loved his mother better than me. " Then came a flood of tears--thefirst. 

They went to Mrs. Little's lodgings. The landlady had retired to bed, and, on hearing their errand, told them, out of the second-floor window, that Mrs. Little had left her some days ago, and gone to a neighboringvillage for change of air. 

Grace and Dr. Amboyne drove next morning to that village, and soonlearned where Mrs. Little was. Dr. Amboyne left Grace at the inn, for heknew the sight of her would at once alarm Mrs. Little; and in a matterso uncertain as this, he thought the greatest caution necessary. Gracewaited for him at the inn in an agony of suspense. She watched at thewindow for him, and at last she saw him coming toward her. His headwas down, and she could not read his face, or she could have told in amoment whether he brought good news or bad. 

She waited for him, erect but trembling. He opened the door, and stoodbefore her, pale and agitated--so pale and agitated she had never seenhim before. 

He faltered out, "She knows nothing. She must know nothing. She is tooill and weak, and, indeed, in such a condition that to tell her thefatal news would probably have killed her on the spot. All I dared dowas to ask her with assumed indifference if she had heard from Henrylately. No, Grace, not for these three days. "

He sat down and groaned aloud. 

"You love the son, " said he, "but I love the mother: loved her yearsbefore you were born. "

At this unexpected revelation Grace Carden kissed him, and wept on hisshoulder. Then they went sadly home again. 

Doctor Amboyne now gave up all hopes of Henry, and his anxiety wasconcentrated on Mrs. Little. How on earth was he to save her from ashock likely to prove fatal in her weak condition? To bring her toHillsborough in her present state would be fatal. He was compelled toleave her in Wales, and that looked so like abandoning her. He sufferedtorture, the torture that only noble minds can know. At midnight, as helay in bed, and revolved in his mind all the difficulties and perils ofthis pitiable situation, an idea struck him. He would try and persuadeMrs. Little to marry him. Should she consent, he could then take heron a wedding-tour, and that tour he could easily extend from place toplace, putting off the evil time until, strong in health and conjugalaffection, she might be able to endure the terrible, the inevitableblow. The very next morning he wrote her an eloquent letter; he told herthat Henry had gone suddenly off to Australia to sell his patents; thatalmost his last word had been, "My mother! I leave her to you. " This, said the doctor, is a sacred commission; and how can I execute it? Icannot invite you to Hillsborough, for the air is fatal to you. Think ofyour half-promise, and my many years of devotion, and give me the rightto carry out your son's wishes to the full. 

Mrs. Little replied to this letter, and the result of the correspondencewas this: she said she would marry him if she could recover her health, but THAT she feared she never should until she was reconciled to herbrother. 

Meantime Grace Carden fell into a strange state: fits of feverishenergy; fits of death-like stupor. She could do nothing, yet it maddenedher to be idle. With Bolt's permission, she set workmen to remove allthe remains of the chimney that could be got at--the water was high justthen: she had a barge and workmen, and often watched them, and urgedthem by her presence. Not that she ever spoke; but she hovered aboutwith her marble face and staring eyes, and the sight of her touchedtheir hearts and spurred them to exertion. 

Sometimes she used to stand on a heap of bricks hard by, and peer, withdilated eyes into the dark stream, and watch each bucket, or basket, asit came up with bricks, and rubbish, and mud, from the bottom. 

At other times she would stand on the bridge and lean over thebattlements so far as if she would fly down and search for her deadlover. 

One day as she hung thus, glaring into the water, she heard a deep sigh. She looked up, and there was a face almost as pale as her own, and evenmore haggard, looking at her with a strange mixture of pain and pity. This ghastly spectator of her agony was himself a miserable man, it wasFrederick Coventry. His crime had brought him no happiness, no hope ofhappiness. 

At sight of him Grace Carden groaned, and covered her face with herhands. 

Coventry drew back dismayed. His guilty conscience misinterpreted this. 

"You can forgive us now, " said Grace, with a deep sob: then turned awaywith sullen listlessness, and continued her sad scrutiny. 

Coventry loved her, after his fashion, and her mute but eloquent miserymoved him. 

He drew nearer to her, and said softly, "Do not look so; I can't bearit. He is not there. "

"Ah! How do you know?"

Coventry was silent for a moment, and seemed uneasy; but at last hereplied thus: "There were two explosions. The chimney fell into theriver a moment before the explosion that blew up the works. So how canhe be buried under the ruins of the chimney? I know this from a workmanwho was standing on the bridge when the explosions took place. "

"Bless the tongue that tells me that! Oh, how much wiser you are than therest of us! Mr. Coventry, pity and forgive a poor girl who has used youill. Tell me--tell me--what can have become of him?"

Coventry was much agitated, and could not speak for some time, andwhen he did, it was in a faint voice as of one exhausted by a mentalstruggle. "Would you rather he was--dead--or--false?"

"Oh false--a thousand times! Prove to me he is not dead, but only falseto his poor Grace, and I will bless you on my knees. "

Coventry's eye flashed. "Well, then, he was the lover of Jael Dence, thegirl who fought for him, and shed her blood for him, and saved his life. The connection was open and notorious. "

Grace was silent. 

"Many a man has fled from two women, who could have been happy witheither of them. I believe that this man found himself unable to play thedouble game any longer, and that he has fled the country--"

"I pray God it may be so, " sobbed Grace. 

"--Through remorse, or from dread of exposure. Have patience. Do notkill yourself, and break all our hearts. Take my word for it, you willhear from him in a few days, and he will give your reasons for hisstrange disappearance--excellent, business-like reasons, but not thetrue ones: there will not be a word about Jael Dence. " This last with asneer. 

Grace turned on him with eyes that literally gleamed: "You hated himliving, you slander him dead. Falsehood was not in him: his affectionfor Jael Dence was no secret. I knew it, and approved it. It was aspure as heaven. His poor mutilated body will soon contradict these vilecalumnies. I hate you! I hate you!"

Coventry drew back at first from this burst of ire, but soon he met herglance with one of fiendish bitterness. "You hate me for pitying you, and saying that man is not dead. Well, have your own way, then; he isnot false, but dead. "

He turned on his heel, and went away. 

As for Mr. Carden, he declined to admit that Little was dead, and saidhis conduct was unpardonable, and, indeed, so nearly resembled madness, that, considering the young man's father had committed suicide, he wasdetermined never to admit him into his house again--at all events as asuitor to Grace. 

Mr. Coventry had now taken spacious apartments, and furnished them. Heresumed his visits to the club. Mr. Carden met him there, and spoke moreconfidentially to him than he did to his daughter, and admitted he hadgrave doubts, but said he was a director of the Gosshawk, and wouldnever, either in public or private, allow that Little was dead unlesshis body should be found and properly identified. 

All this time there was a hot discussion in the journals, and theSaw-grinders' Union repudiated the outrage with horror, and offered aconsiderable reward. 

Outsiders were taken in by this, but not a single manufacturer orworkman. 

Mr. Holdfast denounced it as a Trade outrage, and Ransome groped thetown for evidence. 

The latter, however, was rather puzzled one day by an anonymous lettertelling him he was all on the wrong tack; it was not a Trade job, butcontrived by a gentleman for his private ends. Advantage had been takenof Little being wrong with the Trade; "but, " said the letter, "youshould look to the head for the motive, not to the hands. One or two sawthem together a good many times before the deed was done, and the swellwas seen on the very bridge when the explosion took place. "

This set Ransome thinking very seriously and comparing notes. 

Week after week went by and left the mystery unsolved. 

Mr. Coventry saw Mr. Carden nearly every day, and asked him was thereno news of Little? The answer was always in the negative, and thissurprised Coventry more and more. 

When a whole month had elapsed, even he began to fancy strange things, and to nurse wild projects that had never entered his head before. He studied books of medical jurisprudence, and made all manner ofexperiments. He resumed his intimacy with Cole, and they were oftencloseted together. 

Five weeks had elapsed, and Grace Carden had lost all her feverishenergy, and remained passive, lethargic, fearing every thing, hopingnothing, but quivering all day with expectation of the next blow; forwhat had she left to expect now but sorrow in some form or other?

She often wished to visit Jael Dence again at the hospital; but for sometime an invincible repugnance withheld her. 

She asked Dr. Amboyne to go instead, and question the unhappy girl. 

Dr. Amboyne did so; but Jael was now in a half-stupid condition, and herpoor brain not clear enough to remember what she was wanted to remember. Her memory was full of gaps, and, unluckily, one of these gaps embracedthe whole period between her battle with Hill and the present time. 

At last Grace was irritated, and blamed the doctor for his failure. 

She reminded him she had herself magnetized Jael, and had almost madeher speak. She resolved to go to the hospital herself. "I'll make hertell me one thing, " said she, "though I tear her heart out, and my owntoo. "

She dressed plainly, and walked rapidly down toward the hospital. Therewere two ways to it, but she chose the one that was sure to give herpain. She could not help it; her very feet dragged her to that fatalspot. 

When she drew near the fatal bridge, she observed a number of personscollected on it, looking down in the river at some distance. 

At the same time people began to hurry past her, making for the bridge. 

She asked one of them what it was. 

"Summut in the river, " was the reply, but in a tone so full of meaning, that at these simple words she ran forward, though her knees almost gaveway under her. 

The bridge was not so crowded yet, but that she contrived to push inbetween two women, and look. 

All the people were speaking in low murmurs. The hot weather had driedthe river up to a stream in the middle, and, in midstream, about fiftyyards from the foot of the bridge, was a pile of broken masonry, whichhad once been the upper part of Bolt and Little's chimney. It had falleninto water twelve feet deep; but now the water was not above five feet, and a portion of the broken bricks and tiles were visible, some justabove, some just under the water. 

At one side of this wreck jutted out the object on which all eyes werenow fastened. At first sight it looked a crooked log of wood stickingout from among the bricks. Thousands, indeed, had passed the bridge, and noticed nothing particular about it; but one, more observant or lesshurried, had peered, and then pointed, and collected the crowd. 

It needed but a second look to show that this was not a log of wood butthe sleeve of a man's coat. A closer inspection revealed that the sleevewas not empty. 

There was an arm inside that sleeve, and a little more under the waterone could see distinctly a hand white and sodden by the water. 

The dark stream just rippled over this hand, half veiling it at times, though never hiding it. 

"The body will be jammed among the bricks, " said a by-stander; and allassented with awe. 

"Eh! to think of its sticking out an arm like that!" said a young girl. 

"Dead folk have done more than that, sooner than want Christian burial, "replied an old woman. 

"I warrant ye they have. I can't look at it. "

"Is it cloth, or what?" inquired another. 

"It's a kind of tweed, I think. "

"What's that glittering on its finger?"

"It's a ring--a gold ring. "

At this last revelation there was a fearful scream, and Grace Cardenfell senseless on the pavement. 

A gentleman who had been hanging about and listening to the comments nowdarted forward, with a face almost as white as her own, and raised herup, and implored the people to get her a carriage. 

It was Mr. Coventry. Little had he counted on this meeting. Horror-stricken, he conveyed the insensible girl to her father's house. 

He handed her over to the women, and fled, and the women brought herround; but she had scarcely recovered her senses, when she utteredanother piercing scream, and swooned again. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Coventry passed a night of agony and remorse. He got up broken anddespondent, and went straight to Woodbine Villa to do a good action. 

He inquired for Miss Carden. They told him she was very ill. Heexpressed an earnest wish to see her. The servants told him that wasimpossible. Nobody was allowed to see her but Dr. Amboyne. He wentnext day to Dr. Amboyne, and the doctor told him that Miss Carden wasdangerously ill. Brain fever appeared inevitable. 

"But, sir, " said Coventry, eagerly, "if one could prove to her thatthose were not the remains of Henry Little?"

"How could you prove that? Besides, it would be no use now. She isdelirious. Even should she live, I should forbid the subject for manya day. Indeed, none but the man himself could make her believe thoseremains are not his; and even he could not save her now. If he stood byher bedside, she would not know him. "

The doctor's lip trembled a little, and his words were so grave andsolemn that they struck to the miserable man's marrow. He staggeredaway, like a drunken man, to his lodgings, and there flung himself onthe floor, and groveled in an agony of terror and remorse. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

One day it occurred to Raby he could play the misanthrope just as wellat home as abroad, so he returned home. 

He found old Dence dead and buried, and Patty Dence gone to Australiawith her husband. 

He heard Jael was in the hospital. He called at Woodbine villa, and theytold him Grace was lying between life and death. 

He called on Dr. Amboyne, and found him as sad as he used to be gay. Thedoctor told him all, and even took him to the town hall, and showed himan arm and part of the trunk of a man preserved in spirits, and a pieceof tweed cloth, and a plain gold ring. 

"There, " said he, "is all that remains to us of your nephew, and myfriend. Genius, beauty, courage--all come to this!" He could say nomore. 

The tears filled Raby's eyes, and all his bitterness melted away. Withrespect to his sister, he said he was quite willing to be reconciled, and even to own himself in the wrong, if Dr. Amboyne, on reading thecorrespondence, should think so. Dr. Amboyne said he would come to RabyHall for that purpose. He communicated this at once to Mrs. Little. 

Grace had a favorable crisis, and in a few days more she was out ofdanger, but in a deplorable state of weakness. Dr. Amboyne ordered herto the sea-side. A carriage was prepared expressly for her, and herfather took her there. 

Woodbine Villa was put up to let furnished, and it was taken by--Mr. Coventry. 

Jael Dence began to recover strength rapidly, but she wore at times aconfused look. The very day Grace left for Eastbank she was dischargedas cured, and left the hospital. This was in the morning. 

In the afternoon Dr. Amboyne, being now relieved of his anxiety as toGrace, remembered he had not been to see this poor girl for some time;so he went to the hospital. 

When he heard she was discharged, he felt annoyed with himself for nothaving paid her closer attention. And besides, Grace had repeatedly toldhim Jael Dence could make a revelation if she chose. And now, occupiedwith Grace herself, he had neglected her wishes. 

"Where is she gone? do you know?"

One of the nurses said she was gone home. 

Another said the patient had told her she should go down to the worksfirst. 

"And that is the very last place you should have let her go to, " saidthe doctor. "A fine shock the poor creature will get there. You wanther back here again, I suppose!" He felt uneasy, and drove down to theworks. There he made some inquiries among the women, and elicited thatJael Dence had turned faint at sight of the place, and they had shownher, at her request, where she had been picked up, and had told herabout the discovery of Little's remains, and she had persuaded a littlegirl to go to the town hall with her. 

"Oh, the tongue! the tongue!" groaned Amboyne. 

He asked to see the little girl, and she came forward of her ownaccord, and told him she had gone to the town hall with the lass, "but"(regretfully) "that the man would not show them it without an order fromthe Mayor. "

"IT!"

Dr. Amboyne said he was very glad that common sense had not quitedeserted the earth. "And where did you go next?"

"I came back here. "

"So I see; but the lass?"

"She said she should go home. 'My dear, ' says she, 'there's nobody leftme here; I'll go and die among my own folk. ' That was her word. "

"Poor thing! poor thing! Why--"

He stopped short, for that moment he remembered Raby had said old Dencewas dead, and Patty gone to Australia. If so, here was another blow instore for poor Jael, and she weakened by a long illness. 

He instantly resolved to drive after her, and see whether she was reallyin a fit state to encounter so many terrible shocks. If not, he shouldtake her back to the infirmary, or into his own house; for he had agreat respect for her, and indeed for all her family. 

He drove fast, but he could see nothing of her on the road. So then hewent on to Cairnhope. 

He stopped at the farm-house. It was sadly deteriorated in appearance. Inside he found only an old carter and his daughter. The place was intheir charge. 

The old man told him apathetically Jael had come home two hours ago andasked for her father and Patty, and they had told her the old farmer wasdead and buried, and Patty gone to foreign parts. 

"What, you blurted it out like that! You couldn't put yourself inthat poor creature's place, and think what a blow it would be? How, inHeaven's name, did she take it?"

"Well, sir, she stared a bit, and looked stupid-like; and then she satdown. She sat crowded all together like in yon corner best part of anhour, and then she got up and said she must go and see his grave. "

"You hadn't the sense to make her eat, of course?"

"My girl here set meat afore her, but she couldn't taste it. "

Dr. Amboyne drove to Raby Hall and told Raby. Raby said he would haveJael up to the hall. It would be a better place for her now than thefarm. He ordered a room to be got ready for her, and a large firelighted, and at the same time ordered the best bedroom for Dr. Amboyne. "You must dine and sleep here, " said he, "and talk of old times. "

Dr. Amboyne thanked him--it was dusk by this time--and was soon seatedat that hospitable table, with a huge wood fire blazing genially. 

Meantime Jael Dence sat crouched upon her father's grave, stupefied withgrief. When she had crouched there a long time she got up, and muttered, "Dead and gone! dead and gone!"

Then she crept up to the old church, and sat down in the porch, benumbedwith grief, and still a little confused in her poor head. 

She sat there for nearly two hours, and then she got up, and muttered, "Dead and gone--he is dead and gone!" and wandered on the hill desolate. 

Her feet wandered, her brain wandered. She found herself at last ina place she recognized. It was Squire Raby's lawn. The moon had justrisen, and shone on the turf, and on the little river that went curlinground with here and there a deep pool. 

She crept nearer, and saw the great bay-window, and a blaze of lightbehind it. 

There she had sung the great Noel with her father; and now he was deadand gone. 

There she had been with Henry Little, and seen him recognize hismother's picture; and now he was dead and gone. She had saved his lifein vain; he was dead and gone. Every body was dead and gone. 

She looked up at the glowing window. She looked down at the pool, withthe moon kissing it. 

She flung her arms up with a scream of agony, and sunk into the deeppool, where the moon seemed most to smile on it. 

Directly after dinner Dr. Amboyne asked to see the unhappycorrespondence of which he was to be the judge. 

Raby went for the letters, and laid them before him. He took up thefatal letter. "Why, this is not written by Mrs. Little. I know her neatItalian hand too well. See how the letters slant and straggle. "

"Oh! but you must allow for the writer's agitation. "

"Why should I allow for it? YOU DIDN'T. Who can look at this scrawl, and not see that the poor heart-broken creature was not herself whenshe wrote it? This is not a letter, it is a mere scream of agony. Putyourself in her place. Imagine yourself a woman--a creature in whomthe feelings overpower the judgment. Consider the shock, the wound, thefrenzy; and, besides, she had no idea that you left this house to gether husband the money from your own funds. "

"She never shall know it either. "

"She does know it. I have told her. And, poor thing, she thinks she wasthe only one to blame. She seeks your forgiveness. She pines for it. This is the true cause of her illness; and I believe, if you couldforgive her and love her, it might yet save her life. "

"Then tell her I blame myself as much as her. Tell her my house, myarms, and my heart are open to her. Amboyne, you are a true friend, anda worthy man. God bless you. How shall we get her here, poor soul? Willyou go for her, or shall I?"

"Let me sleep on that, " said Dr. Amboyne. 

In the course of the evening, Dr. Amboyne told Raby all the reportsabout Jael Dence and Henry Little. 

"What does that matter now?" said Raby, with a sigh. 

Whenever a servant came into the room, Amboyne asked him if Jael hadarrived. 

Raby shared his curiosity, but not his anxiety. "The girl knows herfriends, " said he. "She will have her cry out, you may depend; but afterthat she will find her way here, and, when she has got over it a little, I shall be sure to learn from her whether he was her lover, and where hewas when the place was blown up. A Dence never lies to a Raby. "

But when nine o'clock struck, and there were no tidings of her, Rabybegan to share the doctor's uneasiness, and also to be rather angry andimpatient. 

"Confound the girl!" said he. "Her grandfathers have stood by mine, in their danger and trouble, for two hundred years; and now, in hertrouble, she slinks away from me. "

"Put yourself in her place, " said Amboyne. "Ten to one she thinks youare offended about her and Henry. She is afraid to come near you. "

"What, when I ask her?"

"Through your stupid lazy servants, who, to save themselves trouble, have very likely told somebody else to tell her; and we know whatcomes of that process. Ten to one the invitation has either missed heraltogether, or come to her divested of all that is kind and soothing. And remember, she is not a man. She is a poor girl, full of shame andapprehension, and needs a gentle encouraging hand to draw her here. Do, for once, put yourself in a woman's place--you were born of a woman. "

"You are right, " said Raby. "I will send down a carriage for her, with aline in my own hand. "

He did so. 

At eleven the servant came back with the news that Jael Dence was not athome. She had been seen wandering about the country, and was believed tobe wrong in her head. George, the blacksmith, and others, were gone upto the old church after her. 

"Turn out with torches, every man Jack of you, and find her, " said Raby. 

As for Raby and Amboyne, they sat by the fireside and conversedtogether--principally about poor Mrs. Little; but the conversation waslanguid. 

A few minutes after midnight a terrible scream was heard. It was utteredout of doors, yet it seemed to penetrate the very room where Raby andAmboyne were seated. Both men started to their feet. The scream was notrepeated. They looked at each other. 

"It was in my garden, " said Raby; and, with some little difficulty, heopened the window and ran out, followed by Amboyne. 

They looked, but could see nothing. 

But, with that death-shriek ringing in their ears, they wasted no time. Raby waved Amboyne to the left, and himself dashed off to the right, andthey scoured the lawn in less than a minute. 

A cry of horror from Raby! He had found the body of a woman floating ina pool of the river, head downward. 

He dashed into the water directly and drew it to the bank; Dr. Amboynehelped him, and they got it out on dry land. The face was ghastly, thebody still. 

"Turn her face downward, " said Amboyne, "give her every chance. Carryher gently. "

One took the shoulders, the other the feet; they carried her slowly inand laid her gently down before the fire. 

She lay like dripping marble. 

Her clothes clinging tightly round her, revealed her marvelous form andlimbs of antique mold--but all so deadly still. 

Amboyne kneeled over her, searching, in vain, for some sign of life. Hegroaned. 

"Oh!" said he, "is it possible that such a creature as this can be cutoff in its prime?"

"Dead!" cried Raby, trembling all over. "Oh, God forbid! One of herancestors saved a Raby's life in battle, another saved a Raby in afoaming flood; and I couldn't save her in a dead pool! She is the lastof that loyal race, and I'm the last Raby. Farewell, Dence! Farewell, Raby!"

While he bemoaned her thus, and his tears actually dripped upon her paleface, Amboyne detected a slight quivering in the drowned woman's throat. 

"Hush?" said he to Raby. 

There was a pair of old-fashioned bellows by the side of the fire;Amboyne seized them, and opened Jael's mouth with more ease than heexpected. "That is a good sign, " said he. 

He inflated the bellows, and inserted the tube very carefully; then hedischarged the air, then gently sucked it back again. When he had donethis several times something like a sigh escaped from Jael's breast. Thedoctor removed the bellows, and felt her heart and examined her eyes. "Curious!" said he. "Give me some brandy. It is more like syncope thandrowning. "

Acting on this notion, he laid her flat on her back, and applied neatbrandy to her nostrils and ears. 

After a while she moved her whole body like a wounded snake, and moanedfeebly. 

Raby uttered a loud shout of joy. "She is saved!" he cried. "Sheis saved!" He jumped about the room like a boy, and, anxious to dosomething or other, was for ringing up the female servants. But Amboynewould not hear of it. "On the contrary, " said he, "lock the door, andlet only you and I see the poor girl's distress when she comes back tothis bitter world. Raby, don't you shut your eyes to the truth. This wasno accident. "

"I am afraid not, " said Raby. "She knows the water as well as I do, andshe picked out the deepest hole: poor girl! poor girl"

He then asked Amboyne in a whisper what he thought she would do when shecame to her senses. 

"Impossible to say. She may be violent, and if so we shall have enoughto do to hold her. They tell me she threw that workman like a sack. "

At this moment Jael stretched her great arms and sighed. The movement, though gentle and feminine, had a grandeur and freedom that only goeswith power. 

The doctor lowered his voice to a whisper. "She is a good Christian, andmost likely she will be penitent, and then she will cry her heart out. Any way, she is pretty sure to be hysterical, so mind and be firm aswell as kind. There, her color is coming back. Now put yourself in herplace. You and I must call this an accident. Stick to that through thickand thin. Ah, she is coming round safe. She shall see you first. Youtake her right hand, and look at her with all the pity and kindness I amsure you feel. "

Mr. Raby took Jael's hand in both his, and fixed his eyes on her withpity and anxiety. 

She came to her senses, and stared at him a long time. 

Then she looked down at her wet clothes. Then she snatched her handaway, and covered her face with both hands, and began to rock and moan, and finally turned round and hid her face against the very floor as ifshe would grovel and burrow into it. 

"Are you better, my dear?" said the doctor, quietly. 

No reply. And the face still crushed against the floor. 

"The next time you faint away, don't let it be on the banks of a river. You have been going too long without food; and you fainted away andfell into the river. Luckily it was not very deep or it might have beenserious. You have given us a fine fright, I can tell you. "

While these words were being uttered, Jael, who did not miss a syllable, began to look very, very slowly round with scared and troubled eyes, andto defend herself. "I remember naught, " said she, doggedly. "Who took meout?"

"Mr. Raby. "

She looked timidly at him, and saw his wet clothes. 

"Oh, squire, why did you spoil your clothes for me?" and she laid herhead on his knee and began to cry. 

"My clothes!" said Raby. "The girl wants to break my heart. "

"Eh, dear! and I've spoiled the beautiful carpet, " said Jael, piteously. 

"D--n the carpet!" said Raby, nearly blubbering. 

All this time Amboyne was putting himself in Jael's Dence's place. 

"Is there a good fire in her room?" asked he, with a significant look. 

Raby took the hint, and said he would go and see. 

As soon as he was out of the room, the transmigrator began to talk veryfast to Jael. "Now look here, Jael, that poor man is alone in the worldnow, and very sad; he wants you to keep his house for him. He has beensending messages all day after you, and your room has been ready ever solong. "

"My room in this house?"

"Yes. But we could not find you. However, here you are. Now you must notgo back to the farm. The poor squire won't be quite so sad if he seesyou about him. You know he was always fond of you Dences. You shouldhave seen him cry over you just now when he thought you were dead. "

"I am more cared for than I thought, " said Jael, softly. 

"Yes, but not more than you deserve, my dear. " He dipped a sponge-cakein wine. "Oblige me by eating that. "

She took it submissively. 

"Now another. "

She ate another, and a third. 

"It's a very wicked lass you are so good to, " said she, softly, and somegentle tears began to flow. 

"Stuff and nonsense!" said the doctor. "What do you know aboutwickedness? I'm a better judge of that than you, and I say you are thebest girl and the most unselfish girl in the world; and the proof isthat, instead of sitting down and nursing your own griefs, you are goingto pluck up courage, and be a comfort to poor Mr. Raby in his lonelycondition. "

These words appeared to sink into Jael's mind: she put her hands to herhead, and pondered them. Perhaps she might have replied to them, butRaby came down, and ordered her to her apartment. 

She took a step or two in that direction, but presently drew back andwould not move. "The women-folk! They'll see me on the stair, thisfigure. "

"Not they. They are all in bed. "

"Are they so? Then please let me go to the kitchen for a dry cloth ortwo. "

"What to do?"

"To dry the rug a bit. Just look--what a mess I've made!"

"I'll say it was the dog. "

"Will you, though? Oh, but you are a good friend to me this night. ThenI'll go. Let me wring my gown a bit, not to mess the stairs as well. "

"No, no; I'll take all the blame. Will you go, or must the doctor and Icarry you?"

"Nay, nay, there's no need. Your will is my pleasure, sir. "

So Mr. Raby showed Jael to her room, and opened a great wardrobe, andtook out several armfuls of antique female habiliments, and flung themon the floor; rich velvets, more or less faded, old brocades, lacescarves, chemises with lace borders; in short, an accumulation ofcenturies. He soon erected a mound of these things in the middle of thefloor, and told her to wear what she liked, but to be sure and air thethings well first; "for, " said he, "it is a hundred years or so sincethey went on any woman's back. Now, say your prayers like a good girl, and go to bed. "

"Ay, " said Jael, solemnly, "I shall say my prayers, you may be sure. "

As he left the room she said, in a sort of patient way, "Good squire, Iam willing to live, since you are so lonely. "

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Early next morning Mr. Raby was disturbed by female voices in a highkey. He opened his window quietly, intending to throw in his bass withstartling effect, when, to his surprise, he found the disputants werehis dairymaid and Jael Dence. 

"And who are you that interferes with me in my work? Where do you comefrom? Did ye get in over the wall? for ye never came in at no door. Whoare you?"

"I am one who won't see the good squire wronged. Aren't ye ashamed?What, eat his bread, and take his wage, and then steal his butter!"

"If ye call me a thief, I'll law ye. Thief yourself! you don't belongto the house; whose gown have you got on your back? Here, James! Tom!here's a strange woman making off with the squire's lady's clothes, andtwo pounds of butter to boot. "

Jael was taken aback for a moment by this audacious attack, and surveyedher borrowed habiliments with a blush of confusion. Several servantscame about at the noise, and her situation bade fair to be a veryunpleasant one: but Mr. Raby put in his word; "Hold your tongues, all ofye. Now, Jael Dence, what is the matter?"

Instantly all eyes were turned up to the window with a start, and Jaeltold her tale: "Sir, " said she, "I did see this young woman take outsomething from under her apron and give it to a little girl. I thoughtthere was something amiss, and I stopped the girl at the gate, andquestioned her what she was carrying off so sly. She gives a squeak anddrops it directly, and takes to her heels. I took it up and brought itin, and here it is, two beautiful pounds of butter, fresh churned; lookelse!"--here she undid a linen wrap, and displayed the butter--"so Ichallenged the dairymaid here. She says I'm a thief--and that I leave toyou, Squire; you know whether I come of thieves or honest folk; but whatI want to know from her is, why her lass dropped the butter and took toher heels at a word?"

"Now, my good Jael, " said the Squire, "if you are going to interfereevery time you catch my servants pilfering, you will have a hard timeof it. However, zeal is too rare a thing for me to discourage it. I mustmake an example. Hy, you young woman: I dare say you are no worse thanthe rest, but you are the one that is found out; so you must pack upyour clothes and begone. "

"Not without a month's warning, or a month's wage, sir, it you please, "said the dairymaid, pertly. 

"If I catch you in the house when I come down, I'll send you to prisonon my own warrant, with the butter tied round your neck. "

At this direful threat the offender began to blubber, and speedilydisappeared to pack her box. 

Mr. Raby then told the other servants that Jael Dence was the newhousekeeper, and that a person of her character was evidently requiredin the house; they must all treat her with respect, or leave hisservice. Thereupon two gave warning, and Mr. Raby, who never kept aservant a day after that servant had given him warning, had them up tohis room, and paid them a month's wages. "And now, " said he, "for thehonor of the house, don't leave us fasting, but eat a good breakfast, and then go to the devil. "

At his own breakfast he related the incident to Dr. Amboyne, with acharacteristic comment: "And the fools say there is nothing in race. Solikely, that of all animals man alone should be exempt from the lawof nature! Take a drowning watch-dog out of the water and put him in astrange house, he is scarcely dry before he sets to work to protect it. Take a drowning Dence into your house, and she is up with the lark tolook after your interests. That girl connive and let the man be robbedwhose roof shelters her? She COULDN'T; it is not in her blood. I'mafraid there's to be a crusade against petty larceny in this house, and more row about it than it is worth. No matter; I shall support thecrusader, on principle. It is not for me to check honest impulses, norto fight against nature in almost the only thing where she commands myrespect. "

"Very well, " said the doctor, "that is settled: so now let us talk ofsomething more important. How are we to get your sister, in her delicatestate, from Wales to this place?"

"Why, I will go for her myself, to be sure. "

"Raby, your heart is in the right place, after all. But when she ishere, how are we to conceal her unhappy son's fate from her? It will bemore difficult than ever, now Jael Dence is in the house. "

"Why so? We must take the girl into our confidence--that is all. "

"The sooner the better then. Let us have her in here. "

Jael was sent for, and Mr. Raby requested her to take a seat, and giveall her attention to something Dr. Amboyne had to say. 

Dr. Amboyne then told her, with quiet earnestness, that Mrs. Little wasat present so ill and weak he felt sure the news of Henry's death wouldkill her. 

"Ay, poor soul!" said Jael, and began to cry bitterly. 

The doctor held his peace, and cast a disconsolate look on Raby, as muchas to say, "We shall get no efficient aid in this quarter. "

After a little while Jael dried her eyes, and said, "Go on, sir. Imust needs cry before you now and then: 'tisn't to say I shall ever crybefore HER. "

"Well, then, if we CAN get her safe to this place, and keep her in thedark for a few months, I think we may save her life. Every thing elsewill be in her favor here: her native air, cherished memories, herbrother's love--and, after all, it was fretting about her quarrel withhim that first undermined her health and spirits. Well, we shall removethe cause, and then perhaps the effect may go. But how are we to keepthe sad truth from her?"

"Let me think, " said Jael Dence. "My head is a deal clearer since lastnight. "

She leaned her chin upon her hand, and her face and brow showed signs ofintellectual power no one had ever observed in them before. 

"Who is to go for her?" said she at last. 

"I am going myself. "

"That is a mistake at starting, begging your worship's pardon. Why, thevery sight of you might startle her into her grave. Nay, you'll give methe money--for mine is all in the savings bank--and I shall go for hermyself. I shall tell her squire is longing for her, and that I'm to behere for fear she might feel strange. She always liked me, poor soul. I shall get her safe here, you needn't fear for that. But when she ishere"--the chin rested on the hand again--"well, the doctor must forbidvisitors. Miss Grace must be told not to write. Every newspaper must beread before she is allowed to see it. And, squire, you will be verykind to her when you are in her company; but we must manage, somehow orother, so that you can keep out of her way. "

"What for, in heaven's name?"

"Sir, we shall have to lie from morn to night; and you will be a bunglerat that, saving your presence. If there's a servant left in the housewho knows, I'd give that servant a present, and part with her beforeMrs. Little sets her foot in the house. "

"This sounds very sensible, " said Raby. "I am a novice at lying. But Ishall cultivate the art for poor Edith's sake. I'm not a fanatic: thereis justifiable homicide, so why not justifiable facticide?"

"Raby, " said the doctor, "this young woman has said enough to show methat she is more fit to conduct this delicate undertaking than eitheryou or I. Let us profit by the discovery, put our vanity in our pocket, and give her the command. My dear, you see the importance, you see thedifficulty; now will you undertake it?"

"I will, sir, " said Jael, firmly; "and I look to succeed, God willing. Ishall be in Wales this afternoon. "

"Well, but would you not be the better yourself for one day's rest?"

"No, sir. I've learned, with a sad heart, what one day may bring forth. After that, I'm sworn never to throw away a day. And, as for sittingdown and thinking, 'tis the worst thing I can do. I do thank God that inthis, my own heavy trouble, I'm not tied to my sad thoughts, but can getabout, and do a little of good for Raby House. Do what I will, 'tis butgiving them back one pig out of their own farrow; for we owe all we haveto them. "

With this she retired to prepare for her journey, leaving both thegentlemen lost in admiration of her simple virtues, and the clearintelligence she had shown them in few words. 

She traveled into Wales that very day, and many a burst of bitter griefshe had all by herself in the train. 

At six P. M. She stood before Mrs. Little with a smiling countenance. Mrs. Little welcomed her with some little pleasure and much surprise. 

"Good news, madam, " said Jael. "Squire Raby has sent me to bring you toRaby Hall. He wanted to come himself, but I would not let him. "

"That is good news, " said Mrs. Little languidly. "Now I shall die atpeace with my brother--at peace with all mankind, I hope. "

"You'll die when your time comes, " said Jael. "But you have got a shorterjourney before you at present, and that is to Raby Hall. "

"Raby Hall! I shall never see it again. I have no strength to move. I amworn out with the battle of life. Stay with me here, and close my eyes. "

"Of course I shall stay with you, " said Jael, and began to gossip withevery appearance of carelessness. 

Next morning, with infinite difficulty, she persuaded the poor jaundicedlady to show her Aberystwith. She took the tickets herself, and got herpatient half-way to Hillsborough; next day, with less difficulty, toRaby Hall. All had been settled before. Edith little was shown into herold bedroom, adorned with pyramids of flowers in her honor; and thereshe found a loving line from Guy, begging her pardon for his pastharshness, and telling her she was to send for him as soon as she feltstrong enough to meet. 

That evening brother and sister were clasped in each other's arms, andwept tears of affection and regret over each other. 

Jael Dence slept on a camp-bed in Mrs. Little's room, which was veryspacious, and watched her, and was always about her. Under privateadvice from Dr. Amboyne, she superintended her patient's diet, and, bysoft, indomitable perseverance, compelled her to walk every day, andfight against her fatal lassitude. 

Heaven rewarded her by giving her a warm and tender affection for herpoor patient that did something to fill her own yearning and desolateheart. 

Here I must leave them both for the present, and show how these eventsaffected the main characters of my story. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

Just outside the little sea-side town of Eastbank is a house which, being very old, contrasts agreeably with the pretentious villas fashionhas raised. It is gloomy inside, yet outside it looks like a cottage:low, rambling, gabled, and picturesque. It stands on a slope just abovethe sea, and its front garden runs down almost to the sea-shore. Theaspect is southerly. The placid sea looks like a beautiful lake; for, about two miles out, a great tongue of land runs across and keeps thetempests out. 

The cottage itself was now closed deep with green creepers, and itsveranda with jessamine; and the low white walls of the garden werebeautiful with vine-leaves and huge fig-leaves, that ran up them andabout them, and waved over them in tropical luxuriance. In short, thehouse was a very bower, and looked the abode of bliss; and this timelast year a young couple had spent their honeymoon there, and left itwith a sigh. But one place sees many minds; and now this sweet place wasthe bed on which dropped the broken lily of this tale, Grace Carden. 

She lay in the warm air of the veranda, and turned her hollow eyes uponthe sea; and every day life crept slowly back to her young body, but notto her desolate heart. 

A brain fever either kills or blunts, and Grace's agony was blunted. Hermind was in a strange state. She was beginning to look two things in theface: that the man she loved was dead; that the man she loved, and hadnearly died for, had loved another as well as herself: and this lastgrief, strange to say, was the saving of her. She forgave him with allher heart, for he was dead; she made excuses for him, for she lovedhim; but since his whole heart had not been hers, her pride and modestyrebelled against dying for him, and she resolved to live; she foughthard to live and get well. Finally, being a very woman, though a nobleone, she hated Jael Dence. 

She was not alone in the world. Her danger, her illness, and her miseryhad shown her the treasure of a father's love. He had found this sweetbower for her; and here he sat for hours by her side, and his handin hers, gazing on her with touching anxiety and affection. Businesscompelled him to run into Hillsborough now and then, but he dispatchedit with feverish haste, and came back to her: it drove him to London;but he telegraphed to her twice a day, and was miserable till he gotback. She saw the man of business turned into a man of love for her, andshe felt it. "Ah, papa, " she said one day, "I little thought you lovedyour poor Grace so much. You don't love any other child but me, do you, papa?" and with this question she clung weeping round his neck. 

"My darling child, there's nothing on earth I love but you. When shall Isee you smile again?"

"In a few hours, years. God knows. "

One evening--he had been in Hillsborough that day--he said, "My dear, I have seen an old friend of yours to-day, Mr. Coventry. He asked verykindly after you. "

Grace made no reply. 

"He is almost as pale as you are. He has been very ill, he tells me. And, really, I believe it was your illness upset him. "

"Poor Mr. Coventry!" said Grace, but with a leaden air of indifference. 

"I hope I didn't do wrong, but when he asked after you so anxiously, Isaid, 'Come, and see for yourself. ' Oh, you need not look frightened; heis not coming. He says you are offended with him. "

"Not I. What is Mr. Coventry to me?"

"Well, he thinks so. He says he was betrayed into speaking ill to youof some one who, he thought, was living; and now that weighs upon hisconscience. "

"I can't understand that. I am miserable, but let me try and be just. Papa, Mr. Coventry was trying to comfort me, in his clumsy way; and whathe said he did not invent--he heard it; and so many people say so thatI--I--oh, papa! papa!"

Mr. Carden dropped the whole subject directly. 

However, she returned to it herself, and said, listlessly, that Mr. Coventry, in her opinion, had shown more generosity than most peoplewould in his case. She had no feeling against him; he was of no moreimportance in her eyes than that stool, and he might visit her if hepleased, but on one condition--that he should forget all the past, andnever presume to speak to her of love. "Love! Men are all incapableof it. " She was thinking of Henry, even while she was speaking of hisrival. 

The permission, thus limited, was conveyed to Mr. Coventry by his friendCarden; but he showed no hurry to take advantage of it; and, as forGrace, she forgot she had given it. 

But this coolness of Coventry's was merely apparent. He was onlyawaiting the arrival of Patrick Lally from Ireland. This Lally wasan old and confidential servant, who had served him formerly in manyintrigues, and with whom he had parted reluctantly some months ago, andallowed him a small pension for past services. He dared not leave thevilla in charge of any person less devoted to him than this Lally. 

The man arrived at last, received minute instructions, and then Mr. Coventry went to Eastbank. 

He found what seemed the ghost of Grace Carden lying on the sofa, looking on the sea. 

At the sight of her he started back in dismay. 

"What have I done?"

Those strange words fell from him before he knew what he was saying. 

Grace heard them, but did not take the trouble to inquire into theirmeaning. She said, doggedly, "I am alive, you see. Nothing kills. It iswonderful: we die of a fall, of a blow, of swallowing a pin; yet I amalive. But never mind me; you look unwell yourself. What is the matter?"

"Can you ask me?"

At this, which implied that her illness was the cause of his, she turnedher head away from him with weariness and disgust, and looked at thesea, and thought of the dead. 

Coventry sat speechless, and eyed her silent figure with miserabledevotion. He was by her side once more, and no rival near. He sethimself to study all her moods, and began by being inoffensive to her;in time he might be something more. 

He spent four days in Eastbank, and never uttered a word of love; buthis soft soothing voice was ever in her ear, and won her attention nowand then; not often. 

When he left her, she did not ask him to come again. 

Her father did, though, and told him to be patient; better days were instore. "Give her time, " said he, "and, a month or two hence, if you havethe same feeling for her you used to have--"

"I love her more than ever. I worship her--"

"Then you will have me on your side, stronger than ever. But you mustgive her time. "

And now Coventry had an ally far more powerful than himself--an ally atonce zealous and judicious. Mr. Carden contented himself at first withpraising him in general terms; next he affected to laugh at him forrenting the villa, merely to be in the place which Grace had occupied. Then Grace defended him. "Don't laugh at an honest love. Pity it. It isall we can do, and the least we can do. "

But when he advanced further, and began to remind his daughter she hadonce given this gentleman hopes, and all but engaged herself to him, she drew back with fear and repugnance, and said, "If he can not forgetthat, pray let him never come near me again. "

"Oh, " said Mr. Carden, "I believe he has no hopes of the kind; it is ofyou I am thinking, not of him. It has got about that poor Little had aconnection with some girl in humble life, and that he was in love withher, and you in love with him. That wounds a father's pride, and makesme grateful to Coventry for his unshaken devotion, whilst others aresneering at my poor child for her innocent love. "

Grace writhed, and the tears ran down her cheeks at this. "Oh, spare thedead!" she faltered. 

Then her father kissed her, and begged her to forgive him; he wouldavoid all these topics in future: and so he did, for some time; but whathe had said rankled. 

A few days after this Coventry came again, and did nothing but sootheGrace with words; only he managed so that Grace should detect himlooking very sad when he was not actually employed in cheering her. 

She began to pity him a little, and wonder at his devotion. 

He had not been gone many hours when another visitor arrived quiteunexpectedly--Mr. Raby. He came to tell her his own news, and warn herof the difficult game they were now playing at Raby Hall, that she mightnot thwart it inadvertently. 

Grace was much agitated, and shed tears of sympathy. She promised, witha sigh, to hold no communication with Mrs. Little. She thought it veryhard, but she promised. 

In the course of his narrative Mr. Raby spoke very highly of Jael Dence, and of her conduct in the matter. 

To this Grace did not respond. She waited her opportunity, and said, keenly and coldly, "How did she come to be in your house?"

"Well, that is a secret. "

"Can you not trust me with a secret?"

"Oh yes, " said Raby, "provided you will promise faithfully to tell noone. "

Grace promised, and he then told her that Jael Dence, in a moment ofdesperation, had thrown herself into the river at the back of his house. "Poor girl!" said he, "her brain was not right at the time. Heavenkeep us all from those moments of despair. She has got over it now, andnurses and watches my poor sister more like a mother watching her childthan a young woman taking care of an old one. She is the mainspring ofthe house. "

At all this Grace turned from pale to white, but said nothing; and Rabyran on in praise of Jael, little dreaming what pain his words inflicted. 

When he left her, she rose and walked down to the sea; for her torturedspirit gave her body energy. Hitherto she found she had only suspected;now she was sure. Hitherto she had feared Henry Little had loved JaelDence a little; now she was sure he had loved her best. Jael Dence wouldnot have attempted self-destruction for any man unless he loved her. Thevery act proved her claim to him more eloquently than words could do. Now she believed all--the anonymous letter--Mr. Coventry's report--thewoman's words who worked in the same factory, and could not be deceived. And her godfather accepted Jael Dence and her claim to sympathy: she wastaken into his house, and set to nurse Henry Little's mother: poor Gracewas slighted on all sides; she must not even write to Mrs. Little, nortake part in the pious falsehood they were concocting together, Raby andhis Jael Dence, whom everybody loved best--everybody except this poorfaithful ill-used wretch, Frederick Coventry; and him she hated forloving her better than the man she loved had loved her. 

Tender, but very proud, this sensitive creature saw herself dethronedfrom her love. Jael Dence had eclipsed her in every way; had saved hislife with her strong arm, had almost perished with him; and had triedto kill herself when he was dead. SHE was far behind this rival in everything. She had only loved, and suffered, and nearly died. "No, no, " shesaid to herself, "she could not love him better than I did: but HE lovedHER best; and she knew it, and that made her arm strong to fight, and her heart strong to die for him. I am nobody--nothing. " Then thescalding tears ran down her cheeks. But soon her pride got the upperhand, and dried her cheeks, and nearly maddened her. 

She began to blush for her love, to blush for her illness. She rose intothat state of exasperation in which persons of her sex do things theylook back upon with wonder, and, strange to say, all this without oneunkind thought of him whose faults she saw, but excused--he was dead. 

She now began to struggle visibly, and violently, against her deadlysorrow. She forced herself to take walks and rides, and to talk, withnothing to say. She even tried to laugh now and then. She made violentefforts to be gracious and pitiful to Mr. Coventry, and the next minutemade him suffer for it by treating him like a troublesome hound. 

He loved her madly, yet sometimes he felt tempted to kill her, and endboth her torture and his own. 

Such was the inner life of Grace Carden for many days; devoid ofstriking incident, yet well worthy of study by those who care to piercebelow the surface, and see what passes in the hearts of the unhappy, andto learn how things come gradually about that sound incredible whennot so traced, yet are natural and almost inevitable results of certainconflicting passions in a virgin heart. 

One day Mr. Carden telegraphed from London to Mr. Coventry atHillsborough that he was coming down to Eastbank by the midday express, and would be glad to meet him there at four o'clock. He also telegraphedto Grace, and said, "Dinner at five. "

Both gentlemen arrived about the same time, a little before dinner. 

Soon after dinner was over, Grace observed a restlessness in herfather's manner, which convinced her he had something private to say toMr. Coventry. Her suspicions were aroused: she fancied he was going toencourage Mr. Coventry to court her. Instantly the whole woman was inarms, and her love for the deceased came rushing back tenfold. She rose, soon after dinner, and retired to the drawing-room; but, as soon as shegot there, she slipped quietly into the veranda, and lay softly downupon her couch. The dining-room window was open, and with her quickears, she could hear nearly every word. 

She soon found that all her bitterness and her preparation forhostilities were wasted. Her father was telling Mr. Coventry the storyof Richard Martin; only he carried it a step further than I have done. 

"Well, sir, " said he, "the money had not been paid more than a month, when an insurance office down at Liverpool communicated with us. Thesame game had been played with them; but, somehow, their suspicions wereexcited. We compared notes with them, and set detectives to work. They traced Martin's confederates, and found one of them was in prisonawaiting his trial for some minor offense. They worked on him to tellthe truth (I am afraid they compounded), and he let out the whole truth. Every one of those villains could swim like ducks, and Richard Martinlike a fish. Drowned? not he: he had floated down to Greenwich orsomewhere--the blackguard! and hid himself. And what do you think themiscreants did next? Bought a dead marine; and took him down in a box tosome low public-house by the water-side. They had a supper, and dressedtheir marine in Richard Martin's clothes, and shaved its whiskers, andbroke its tooth, and set it up in a chair, with a table before it, anda pot of ale, and fastened a pipe in its mouth; and they kept toastingthis ghastly corpse as the thing that was to make all their fortunes. "At this grotesque and horrible picture, a sigh of horror was uttered inthe veranda. Mr. Carden, occupied with his narrative, did not hear it, but Coventry did. "Then, when it was pitch dark, they staggered down tothe water with it, and planted it in the weeds. And, mark the cunning!when they had gone through their farce of recognizing it publicly forRichard Martin, they bribed a churchwarden and buried it under our verynoses: it was all done in a way to take in the very devil. There's noRichard Martin; there never was a Richard Martin; there never will be:all this was contrived and executed by a swindler well known to thepolice, only they can't catch him; he is here, and there and everywhere;they call him 'Shifty Dick. ' He and his myrmidons have bled the'Gosshawk' to the tune of nine hundred pounds. "

He drew his breath and proceeded more calmly. "However, a lesson of thiskind is never thrown away upon a public man, and it has given me somevery curious ideas about another matter. You know what I mean. "

Coventry stared, and looked quite taken aback by this sudden turn. 

However he stammered out, "I suppose you mean--but, really, I can'timagine what similarity--" he paused, and, inadvertently, his eye glanceduneasily toward the veranda. 

"Oh, " said Mr. Carden, "these diabolical frauds are not done upon onepattern, or, of course, there would soon be an end of their success. Butcome now, what proof have we got that what they found in the river atHillsborough was the remains of Henry Little?"

"I don't know, I am sure. But nobody seems to doubt it. The situation, the clothes, the ring--so many coincidences. "

"That is all very well, if there were no rogues in the world. Butthere are; and I know it, to my cost. The 'Gosshawk' has just lost ninehundred pounds by not suspecting. It shall not lose five thousand by thesame weakness; I'll take care of that. "

He paused a moment, and then proceeded to argue the matter:

"The very idea of an imposture has never occurred to any body; inLittle's case, it did not occur to me until this business of Shifty Dickenlightened me. But, come now, just admit the idea of imposture intothat honest, unsuspicious mind of yours, and you'll find the whole thingwears a very doubtful appearance directly. A common workman--he was nomore at the time--insures his life, for how much? three hundred pounds?no; five thousand. Within one year after that he disappears, undercover of an explosion. Some weeks afterward--about as many as the Martinswindle--there is found in the river a fragment of humanity; an arm, anda hand, and a piece of a human trunk; but no face, mind you: arms arepretty much alike, faces differ. The fragment is clad in brown tweed, and Little wore brown tweed: that is all very well; but the marine wasfound dressed from head to foot in Shifty Dick's very clothes. But letus go on. There was a plain gold ring found on the hand in Hillsboroughriver, and my poor daughter had given Little a plain gold ring. Butwhat was there to hinder an impostor from buying some pauper's body, and putting a plain gold ring on the hand? Why, paupers' bodies areconstantly sold, and the funeral services gabbled over a coffin fullof stones. If I had paper and ink here, and could put Little's case andMartin's in two columns, I should soon show you that Martin and his gangfaced and overcame more and greater difficulties in the way of imposturethan any that have been overcome in Little's case. The Martin gang dealtwith the face; here, that is shirked. The Martin gang planted a body, not a fragment. Does it not strike you as very odd that the rest ofHenry Little is not to be found? It may be all right; but, of the two, Iincline to think it is a plan, and that some person, calling himselfthe heir or assign of Little, will soon apply to the 'Gosshawk' for fivethousand pounds. Well, let him. I shall look on that person as the agentof a living man, not the heir of a dead one; and I shall tell him Idon't believe in arms, and shoulders, and tweed suits, and plain goldrings--(why, wedding-rings are the very things conjurors take fromthe public at random to play hanky-panky with; they are so like oneanother). I shall demand to see the man's face; and the mother who borehim must identify that face before I will pay one shilling to his heirsor assigns. I am waiting to see who will come forward and claim. Nobodymoves; and that is curious. Well, when they do, I shall be ready forthem. You look pale! But no wonder: it is really no subject for anafter-dinner conversation. "

Coventry was pale indeed, and his mind all in a whirl as to what heshould say; for Mr. Carden's sagacity terrified him, and the worst of itwas, he felt sure that Grace Carden heard every word. 

At last, however, his natural cunning came to his aid, and he made avery artful speech, directed principally to his unseen hearer. 

"Mr. Carden, " said he, "this seems to me very shrewd; but surely itfails in one respect: you leave the man's character out of the account. Mr. Little came between me and one I love, and inflicted great miseryon me; but I will try and be just to him. I don't believe he was animpostor of that kind. He was false in love; he had been reared amongstworkmen, and every body says he loved a working-girl more than he didyour daughter; but as for his cheating you or any other person out offive thousand pounds, I can't believe it. They all say he was as honesta man in money matters as ever breathed. "

"You judge him by yourself. Besides, men begin by deceiving women, butthey go on to--Why, Grace, my poor child--Good heavens! have you--?"

Grace was leaning against the open window, ghastly and terrible. 

"Yes, " said she haughtily, "I have been guilty of the meanness oflistening, and I suffer for it. It is but one pang more to a brokenheart. Mr. Coventry, you are just, you are generous; and I will try andreward you for those words. No, papa, no impostor, but a man sore tried, sore tempted. If he is alive, we shall soon know. "

"How?"

"He will write--TO JAEL DENCE. "

Having uttered this strange speech, she rushed away with a wild cry ofagony, and nobody saw her face again that night. 

She did not come down-stairs next day. Mr. Carden went up to her. Hestayed with her an hour, and came down looking much dejected; he askedMr. Coventry to take a turn in the garden with him. When they werealone, he said, gravely, "Mr. Coventry, that unfortunate conversation ofours has quite upset my poor girl. She tells me now she will not believehe is dead until months and months have passed without his writing toJael Dence. "

"Well, but, sir, " said Coventry, "could you not convince her?"

"How can I, when I am myself convinced he is alive, and will give us agreat deal of trouble yet? for it is clear to me the poor girl loves himmore than she knows. Look here, Coventry, there's no man I so desire fora son-in-law as yourself; you have shown a patience, a fidelity!--butas a just man, and a man of honor, I must now advise you to give upall thoughts of her. You are not doing yourself justice; she will nevermarry you while that man is alive and unmarried. I am provoked with her:she will not leave her room while you are in the house. Shall I tell youwhat she said? 'I respect him, I admire him, but I can't bear the sightof him now. ' That is all because I let out last night that I thoughtLittle was alive. I told her, alive or not, he was dead to her. "

"And what did she say to that?"

"Not a word. She wrung her hands, and burst out crying terribly. Ah! myfriend, may you never know what it is to be a father, and see your childwring her hands, and cry her heart out, as I have seen mine. "

His own tears flowed, and his voice was choked. He faltered out, "We aretwo miserable creatures; forgive us, and leave us to our fate. "

Coventry rose, sick at heart, and said, "Tell her I will not intrudeupon her. "

He telegraphed to Lally, and went back to Hillsborough as miserable asthose he left behind; but with this difference, he deserved his misery, deserved it richly. 

Ere he had been two days in Hillsborough a telegram came from him to Mr. Carden:

"Re Little. Important discovery. Pray come here at once. "

Mr. Carden had the prudence to withhold from Grace the nature of thiscommunication. He merely told her business called him suddenly toHillsborough. He started by the next train and found Mr. Coventryawaiting him at "Woodbine Villa" with strange news: it was notconjecture, nor a matter of deduction, but a piece of undeniableevidence; and it knocked both Mr. Carden's theory and his daughter's toatoms at one blow. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Meantime the history of Raby House was the history of what Frenchdramatists call "a pious lie. "

Its indirect effect in keeping Grace Carden apart both from Mrs. Littleand Jael Dence was unforeseen and disastrous; its immediate and directeffect on Mrs. Little was encouraging to those concerned; what withthe reconciliation to her brother, the return to native air and belovedscenes, the tenderness and firmness of Jael Dence, and the convictionthat her son was safe out of the clutches of the dreaded Unions, shepicked up flesh and color and spirit weekly. 

By-and-by she turned round upon Jael Dence, and the nurse became thepupil. Mrs. Little taught her grammar, pronunciation, dancing, carriage, and deportment. Jael could already sing from notes; Mrs. Little taughther to accompany herself on the pianoforte. The teacher was so vigilant, and the pupil so apt and attentive, that surprising progress was made. To be sure, they were together night and day. 

This labor of love occupied Mrs. Little's mind agreeably, and, asthe pupil was equally resolute in making the teacher walk or ride onhorseback with her every day, the hours glided swiftly, and, to Mrs. Little, pleasantly. 

Her brother rather avoided her, by order of Jael Dence; but so manyprobable reasons were given for his absences that she suspected nothing. Only she said one day, "What a gad-about he is now. This comes of notmarrying. We must find him a wife. "

When he was at home they breakfasted together, all three, and then Mrs. Little sometimes spoke of Henry, and so hopefully and cheerfully that agreat qualm ran through her hearers, and Raby, who could not commandhis features so well as Jael could, looked gloomy, and sometimes retiredbehind his newspaper. 

Mrs. Little observed this one day, and pointed it out to Jael. "Oh, "said Jael, "take no notice. You know he wanted Mr. Henry to stay quietlyhere and be his heir. "

"And so did I. But his very name seems to--"

"He likes him well, for all that, ma'am; only he won't own it yet. Youknow what Squire is. "

"THE Squire you should say, dear. But, 'Mr. Raby' is better still. As arule, avoid all small titles: the doctor, the squire, the baronet, themayor. "

Jael seized this handle, and, by putting questions to her teacher, gother away from the dangerous topic. 

Ever on the watch, and occupied in many ways with Mrs. Little, Jael began to recover resignation; but this could not be without anoccasional paroxysm of grief. 

These she managed to hide from Mrs. Little. 

But one day that lady surprised her crying. She stood and looked ather a moment, then sat down quietly beside her and took her hand. Jaelstarted, and feared discovery. 

"My child, " said Mrs. Little, "if you have lost a father, you havegained a mother; and then, as to your sister, why my Henry is gone tothe very same country; yet, you see, I do not give way to sorrow. Assoon as he writes, I will beg him to make inquiries for Patty, and sendthem home if they are not doing well. " Then Mrs. Little kissed Jael, and coaxed her and rocked with her, and Jael's tears began to flow, nolonger for her own great grief, but for this mother, who was innocentlyconsoling her, unconscious of the blow that must one day fall uponherself. 

So matters went on pretty smoothly; only one morning, speaking of Henry, Mrs. Little surprised a look of secret intelligence between her brotherand Jael Dence. She made no remark at the time, but she puzzled insecret over it, and began at last to watch the pair. 

She asked Raby at dinner, one day, when she might hope to hear fromHenry. 

"I don't know, " said he, and looked at Jael Dence like a person watchingfor orders. 

Mrs. Little observed this, and turned keenly round to Jael. 

"Oh, " said Jael, "the doctor--I beg pardon, Dr. Amboyne--can tell youthat better than I can. It is a long way to Australia. "

"How you send me from one to another, " said Mrs. Little, speaking veryslowly. 

They made no reply to that, and Mrs. Little said no more. But shepondered all this. She wrote to Dr. Amboyne, and asked him why no letterhad come from Henry. 

Dr. Amboyne wrote back that, even if he had gone in a steamboat, there was hardly time for a letter to come back: but he had gone in asailing-vessel. "Give him three months and a half to get there, and twomonths for his letters to come back. "

In this same letter he told her he was glad to hear she was renewing heryouth like an eagle, but reminded her it would entail some consequencesmore agreeable to him than to her. 

She laid down the letter with a blush and fell into a reverie. 

Dr. Amboyne followed up this letter with a visit or two, and urged herto keep her promise and marry him. 

She had no excuse for declining, but she procrastinated: she did notlike to marry without consulting Henry, or, at least, telling him byletter. 

And whilst she was thus temporizing, events took place at Eastbank whichended by rudely disturbing the pious falsehood at Raby Hall. 

That sequence of events began with the interview between Mr. Carden andMr. Coventry at Woodbine Villa. 

"Little had made a will. My own solicitor drew it, and holds it at thismoment. " This was the intelligence Coventry had to communicate. 

"Very well; then now I shall know who is coming to the 'Gosshawk' forthe five thousand pounds. That will be the next act of the comedy, youwill see. "

"Wait a moment. He leaves to Mrs. Little his own reversion to a sum ofnineteen hundred pounds, in which she has already the life interest;he gives a hundred pounds to his sweetheart Dence: all the rest of hisestate, in possession or expectation, he bequeaths to--Miss Carden. "

"Good heavens! Why then--" Mr. Carden could say no more, forastonishment. 

"So, " said Coventry, "If he is alive, she is the confederate who is toprofit by the fraud; those five thousand pounds belong to her at thismoment. "

"Are you sure? Who is your authority?"

"A communicative clerk, who happens to be the son of a tenant of mine. The solicitor himself, I believe, chooses to doubt his client's decease. It is at his private request that horrible object is refused Christianburial. "

"On what grounds, pray?"

"Legal grounds, I suppose; the man did not die regularly, and accordingto precedent. He omitted to provide himself with two witnessespreviously to being blown up. In a case of this kind we may safely putan old-fashioned attorney's opinion out of the question. What do YOUthink? That is all I care to know. "

"I don't know what to think now. But I foresee one thing: I shall beplaced in rather an awkward position. I ought to defend the 'Gosshawk;'but I am not going to rob my own daughter of five thousand pounds, if itbelongs to her honestly. "

"Will you permit me to advise you?"

"Certainly, I shall be very much obliged: for really I don't see myway. "

"Well, then, I think you ought to look into the matter carefully, butwithout prejudice. I have made some inquiries myself: I went down to theworks, and begged the workmen, who knew Little, to examine the remains, and then come here and tell us their real opinion. "

"Oh, to my mind, it all depends on the will. If that answers thedescription you give--hum!" Next morning they breakfasted together, andduring breakfast two workmen called, and, at Coventry's request, wereushered into the room. They came to say they knew Mr. Little well, and felt sure that was his dead hand they had seen at the TownHall. Coventry cross-examined them severely, but they stuck to theirconviction; and this will hardly surprise the reader when I tell him theworkmen in question were Cole and another, suborned by Coventry himselfto go through this performance. 

Mr. Carden received the testimony readily, for the best of allreasons--he wanted to believe it. 

But, when they were gone, he recurred to the difficulty of his position. Director of the "Gosshawk, " and father to a young lady who had a claimof five thousand pounds on it, and that claim debatable, though, to hisown mind, no longer doubtful. 

Now Mr. Coventry had a great advantage over Mr. Carden here: he hadstudied this very situation profoundly for several hours, and at lasthad seen how much might be done with it. 

He began by artfully complimenting Mr. Carden on his delicacy, but saidMiss Carden must not be a loser by it. "Convince her, on other grounds, that the man is dead; encourage her to reward my devotion with her hand, and I will relieve you of everything disagreeable. Let us settle on MissCarden, for her separate use, the five thousand pounds, and anythingelse derivable from Mr. Little's estate; but we must also settle my farmof Hindhope: for it shall never be said she took as much from that manas she did from me. Well, in due course I apply to the 'Gosshawk' formy wife's money. I am not bound to tell your Company it is not minebut hers; that is between you and me. But you really ought to write toLondon at once and withdraw the charge of fraud; you owe that piece ofjustice to Miss Carden, and to the memory of the deceased. "

"That is true; and it will pave the way for the demand you propose tomake on Mrs. Coventry's behalf. Well, you really are a true friend, aswell as a true lover. "

In short, he went back to Hillsborough resolved to marry his daughterto Coventry as soon as possible. Still, following that gentleman'sinstructions, he withheld from Grace that Little had made a will in herfavor. He knew her to be quite capable of refusing to touch a farthingof it, or to act as executrix. But he told her the workmen hadidentified the remains, and that other circumstances had also convincedhim he had been unjust to a deceased person, which he regretted. 

When her father thus retracted his own words, away went Grace's lastfaint hope that Henry lived; and now she must die for him, or live forothers. 

She thought of Jael Dance, and chose the latter. 

Another burst or two of agony, and then her great aim and study appearedto be to forget herself altogether. She was full of attention for herfather, and, whenever Mr. Coventry came, she labored to reward him withkind words, and even with smiles; but they were sad ones. 

As for Coventry, he saw, with secret exultation, that she was now toolanguid and hopeless to resist the joint efforts of her father andhimself, and, that some day or other, she must fall lifeless into hisarms. 

He said to himself, "It is only a question of time. "

He was now oftener at the villa than at Hillsborough, and, withremarkable self-denial, adhered steadily to the line of soothing andunobtrusive devotion. 

One morning at breakfast the post brought him a large envelope fromHillsborough. He examined it, and found a capital "L" in the corner ofthe envelope, which "L" was written by his man Lally, in compliance withsecret instructions from his master. 

Coventry instantly put the envelope into his pocket, and his handbegan to shake so that he could hardly hold his cup to his lips. Hisagitation, however, was not noticed. 

Directly after breakfast he strolled, with affected composure, into thegarden, and sat down in a bower where he was safe from surprise, as thetangled leaves were not so thick but he could peep through them. 

He undid his inclosure, and found three letters; two were of noimportance; the third bore a foreign postmark, and was addressed toMiss Carden in a hand writing which he recognized at a glance as HenryLittle's. 

But as this was not the first letter from Henry to Grace which he hadintercepted and read, perhaps I had better begin by saying a few wordsabout the first. 

Well, then, the letters with which Coventry swam the river on the nightof the explosion were six, viz. , to Mr. Bolt, to Doctor Amboyne, to Mr. Baynes, to Jael Dence, to Mrs. Little, and to Grace Carden. Theletter to Grace Carden was short but touching, full of devotion, hope, resolution, and grief at parting. He told her he had come to take leavethat afternoon, but she had been out, luckily; for he felt he ought togo, and must go, but how could he look at her and then leave her? Thiswas the general purport, and expressed with such anguish and fortitudeas might have melted a heart of marble. 

The reader may have observed that, upon his rival's disappearance, Coventry was no happier. This letter was the secret cause. First itshowed him his rival was alive, and he had wasted a crime; secondly, it struck him with remorse, yet not with penitence; and to be full ofremorse, yet empty of that true penitence which confesses or undoes thewrong, this is to be miserable. 

But, as time rolled on, bringing the various events I have related, butno news of Little, Coventry began to think that young man must reallyhave come to some untimely end. 

From this pleasant dream he was now awakened by the second interceptedletter. It ran thus:

"BOSTON, U. S. , June 20th. 

"MY OWN DEAR LOVE, --It is now nine weeks since I left England, and thiswill be a fortnight more getting to you; that is a long time for youto be without news from me, and I sadly fear I have caused you greatanxiety. Dearest, it all happened thus: Our train was delayed by anaccident, and I reached Liverpool just in time to see the steam-packetmove down the Mersey. My first impulse, of course, was to go back toHillsborough; but a seaman, who saw my vexation, told me a fast schoonerwas on the point of sailing for Boston, U. S. My heart told me if I wentback to Hillsborough, I should never make the start again. I summonedall my manhood to do the right thing for us both; and I got into theschooner, heaven knows how; and, when I got there, I hid my face forever so many hours, till, by the pitching and tossing, I knew that I wasat sea. Then I began to cry and blubber. I couldn't hold it any longer. 

"At such a time a kind word keeps the heart from breaking altogether;and I got some comfort from an old gentleman, a native of Boston: agrave old man he was, and pretty reserved with all the rest; but seeingme in the depths of misery, he talked to me like a father, and I toldhim all my own history, and a little about you too--at least, how Iloved you, and why I had left England with a heavy heart. 

"We had a very long passage, not downright tempestuous, but contrarywinds, and a stiff gale or two. Instead of twenty days, as theypromised, we were six weeks at sea, and what with all the fighting andthe threats--I had another letter signed with a coffin just before Ileft that beautiful town--and the irritation at losing so much timeon the ocean, it all brought on a fever, and I have no recollection ofleaving the boat. When I came to myself, I was in a house near Boston, belonging to the old gentleman I spoke of. He and his nieces nursed me, and now I am as well as ever, only rather weak. 

"Mr. Ironside, that is his name, but it should be Mr. Goldheart, if Ihad the christening of him--he has been my good Samaritan. Dear Grace, please pray for him and his family every night. He tells me he comes ofthe pilgrim fathers, so he is bound to feel for pilgrims and wanderersfrom home. Well, he has been in patents a little, and, before I lostmy little wits with the fever, he and I had many a talk. So now he issketching out a plan of operation for me, and I shall have to travelmany a hundred miles in this vast country. But they won't let me movetill I am a little stronger, he and his nieces. If he is gold, they arepearls. 

"Dearest, it has taken me two days to write this: but I am very happyand hopeful, and do not regret coming. I am sure it was the right thingfor us both. 

"Please say something kind for me to the good doctor, and tell him Ihave got over this one trouble already. 

"Dearest, I agreed to take so much a year from Bolt, and he must fightthe trades alone. Such a life is not worth having. Bayne won't wrong meof a shilling. Whatever he makes, over his salary and the men's wages, there it will be for me when I come home; so I write to no one atHillsborough but you. Indeed, you are my all in this world. I travel, and fight, and work, and breathe, and live for you, my own beloved; andif any harm came to you, I wouldn't care to live another moment. "

At this point in the letter the reader stopped, and something coldseemed to pass all through his frame. It struck him that all good menwould pity the writer of this letter, and abhor him who kept it fromthat pale, heart-broken girl inside the cottage. 

He sat freezing, with the letter in his hand, and began to doubt whetherhe could wade any deeper in crime. 

After a minute or two he raised his head, and was about to finishreading the letter. 

But, in the meantime, Grace Carden had resumed her accustomed place inthe veranda. She lay upon the couch, and her pale face, and hollow, butstill beautiful eyes, were turned seaward. Out of those great sad eyesthe sad soul looked across the waste of waters--gazed, and searched, andpined in vain. Oh, it was a look to make angels weep, and hover closeover her head with restless, loving pinions, longing to shadow, caress, and heal her!

Coventry, with Henry Little's letter in his hand, peered through theleaves, and saw the woman he loved fix this look of despair upon thesea--despair of which he was the sole cause, and could dispel it with agesture. 

"And this brings me back to what is my only great trouble now. I toldyou, in the letter I left behind me, you would hear from me in a monthat furthest. It will be not a month, but eleven weeks. Good heavens!when I think what anxiety you may have suffered on my account! You knowI am a pupil of the good doctor, and so I put myself in your place, and I say to myself, 'If my Grace had promised to write in a month, andeleven weeks had passed without a word, what would my feelings be?' Why, I think I should go mad; I should make sure you were ill; I should fearyou were dead; I should fancy every terrible thing on earth, except thatyou were false to your poor Henry. That I should never fear: I judge youby myself. Fly, steamboat, with this letter to my love, and set her mindat ease. Fly back with a precious word from her dear hand, and with thatin my bosom, nothing will ever daunt me. 

"God bless you! angel of my life, darling of my heart, star on which allmy hopes are fixed! Oh, what miserable bad tools words are! When I lookat them, and compare them with how I love you, I seem to be writingthat I love you no more than other people love. What I feel is so muchgreater than words. 

"Must I say farewell? Even on paper, it is like tearing myself away fromheaven again. But that was to be: and now this is to be. Good-by, my ownbeloved. 

"Yours till death, HENRY. "

Coventry read this sentence by sentence, still looking up, nearly everysentence, at her to whom it was addressed. 

The letter pleaded on his knee, the pale face pleaded a few yards off;he sat between the two bleeding lovers, their sole barrier and bane. 

His heart began to fail him. The mountain of crime looked high. Nowremorse stung him deeper than ever; jealousy spurred him harder thanever; a storm arose within his breast, a tempest of conflicting passion, as grand and wild as ever distracted the heart; as grand and wild asany poet has ever tried to describe, and, half succeeding, won immortalfame. 

"See what I can do?" whispered conscience. "With one bound I can giveher the letter, and bring the color back to that cheek and joy to thatheart. She will adore me for it, she will be my true and tender friendtill death. She will weep upon my neck and bless me. "

"Ay, " whispered jealousy, "and then she will marry Henry Little. "

"And am I sure to succeed if I persist in crime? Deserve her hatred andcontempt, and is it certain they will not both fall on me?"

"The fault began with them. He supplanted me--she jilted me. I hatehim--I love her. I can't give her up now; I have gone too far. What isintercepting a letter? I have been too near murder to stop at that. "

"But her pale face! her pale face!"

"Once married, supplant him as he has supplanted you. Away to Italy withher. Fresh scenes--constant love--the joys of wedlock! What will thisHenry Little be to her then?--a dream. "

"Eternal punishment; if it is not a fable, who has ever earned it betterthan I am earning it if I go on?"

"It IS a fable; it must be. Philosophers always said so, and now evendivines have given it up. "

"Her pale face! her pale face! Never mind HIM, look at her. What sort oflove is this that shows no pity? Oh, my poor girl, don't look so sad--sopale! What shall I do? Would to God I had never been born, to torturemyself and her!"

His good angel fought hard for him that day; fought and struggledand hoped, until the miserable man, torn this way and that, ended thestruggle with a blasphemous yell by tearing the letter to atoms. 

That fatal act turned the scale. 

The next moment he wished he had not done it. 

But it was too late. He could not go to her with the fragments. Shewould see he had intercepted it purposely. 

Well, all the better. It was decided. He would not look at her face anymore. He could not bear it. 

He rushed away from the bower and made for the seaside; but he soonreturned another way, gained his own room, and there burnt the fragmentsof the letter to ashes. 

But, though he was impenitent, remorse was not subdued. He could notlook Grace Carden in the face now. So he sent word he must go back toHillsborough directly. 

He packed his bag and went down-stairs with it. 

On the last landing he met Grace Carden. She started a little. 

"What! going away?"

"Yes, Miss Carden. "

"No bad news, I hope?" said she, kindly. 

The kindly tone coming from her, to whom he had shown no mercy, wentthrough that obdurate heart. 

"No--no, " he faltered; "but the sight of your unhappiness--Let me go. Iam a miserable man!"

And with this he actually burst out crying and ran past her. 

Grace told her father, and asked him to find out what was the matterwith Mr. Coventry. 

Mr. Carden followed Coventry to the station, and Coventry, who had nowrecovered his self-possession and his cunning, told him that for sometime Miss Carden had worn a cheerful air, which had given him hopes; butthis morning, watching her from a bower in the garden, he had seen suchmisery in her face that it had quite upset him; and he was going away totry and recover that composure, without which he felt he would be no useto her in any way. 

This tale Carden brought back to his daughter, and she was touched byit. "Poor Mr. Coventry!" said she. "Why does he waste so much love onme?"

Her father, finding her thus softened, pleaded hard for his friend, and reminded Grace that she had not used him well. She admitted that atonce, and went so far as to say that she felt bound never to marryany one but Mr. Coventry, unless time should cure him, as she hoped itwould, of his unfortunate attachment. 

From this concession Mr. Carden urged her daily to another, viz. , thatMr. Coventry might be permitted to try and win her affection. 

Her answer was, "He had much better content himself with what I can anddo give him--my esteem and gratitude and sincere pity. "

Mr. Carden, however, persisted, and the deep affection he had shownhis daughter gave him great power. It was two against one; and the twoprevailed. 

Mr. Coventry began to spend his whole time at Eastbank Cottage. 

He followed Grace about with a devotion to which no female heart couldbe entirely insensible; and, at last, she got used to him, and ratherliked to have him about her. He broke her solitude as a dog does, and hefetched and carried for her, and talked when she was inclined to listen, and was silent when he saw his voice jarred upon her bereaved heart. 

Without her father, matters might have gone on so for years; but Mr. Carden had now so many motives for marrying his daughter to Coventry, that he used all his judgment and all his influence. He worked on hisdaughter's pride, her affection, her sense of honor, and her sense ofduty. 

She struggled, she sighed, she wept; but, by little and little, shesubmitted. And, since three months more passed with no striking event, I will deviate from my usual custom and speak a little of what passed inher mind. 

First of all, then, she was so completely deceived by appearances, thatshe believed the exact opposite of the truth in each particular. To hernot only did black seem white, but white black. Her dead lover had givenher but half his heart. Her living lover was the soul of honor and truedevotion. It was her duty, though not her pleasure, to try and love him;to marry him would be a good and self-denying action. 

And what could she lose by it? Her own chance of happiness was gone. All she could hope for hereafter was the gentle satisfaction that arisesfrom making others happy. She had but a choice of evils: never to marryat all, or to marry Frederick Coventry. 

Thus far she was conscious of her own feelings, and could, perhaps, haveput them into words; but here she drifted out of her depth. 

Nature implants in women a genuine love of offspring that governsthem unconsciously. It governs the unconscious child; it governs thehalf-conscious mother who comes home from the toyshop with a waxen childfor her girl, and a drum for her boy. 

Men desire offspring---when they desire it at all--from vanity alone. Women desire it from pure love of it. 

This instinct had probably its share in withholding Grace from makingup her mind never to marry; and so operated negatively, though notpositively, in Coventry's favor. 

And so, by degrees and in course of time, after saying "no" a dozentimes, she said "yes" once in a moment of utter lassitude, and afterwardshe cried and wished to withdraw her consent, but they were two to one, and had right on their side, she thought. 

They got her to say she would marry him some day or other. 

Coventry intercepted several letters, but he took care not to read themwith Grace's sad face in sight. He would not give conscience such apower to torment him. The earlier letters gave him a cruel satisfaction. They were written each from a different city in the United States, andall tended to show that the writer had a year or two to travel yet, before he could hope to return home in triumph and marry his Grace. 

In all these letters she was requested to send her answers to New York(and, now I think of it, there was a postscript to that effect in thevery letter I have given in extenso). 

But at last came a letter that disturbed this delightful dream. It waswritten from the western extremity of the States, but the writer wasin high spirits; he had sold his patents in two great cities, and hadestablished them in two more on a royalty; he had also met with anunexpected piece of good fortune: his railway clip had been appreciated, a man of large capital and enterprise had taken it up with spirit, andwas about to purchase the American and Canadian right for a large sumdown and a percentage. As soon as this contract should be signed heshould come home and claim Mr. Carden's promise. He complained a littlethat he got no letters, but concluded the post-office authoritieswere in fault, for he had written to New York to have them forwarded. However, he soon should be in that city and revel in them. 

This troubled Coventry, and drove him to extremities. He went on hisknees to Grace, and implored her to name the day. 

She drew back with horror and repugnance; said, with a burst of tears, she was a widow, and would not marry till a decent time had elapsedsince--; then, with sudden doggedness, "I will never marry at all. "

And so she left him to repent his precipitation. 

He was at his wits' end, and could do nothing but look unhappy, andtemporize, and hope the wind might change. 

The wind did not change, and he passed a week or two of outward sorrow, but inward rage. 

He fell ill, and Mr. Carden pitied him openly. 

Grace maintained a sullen silence. 

One day, as he was in bed, an envelope was brought him, with a large"L. " He opened it slowly, fearing the worst. 

The letter was full of love, and joy, and triumph that made the reader'sheart faint within him till he came to this sentence:

"The gentleman who treats with me for the railway clip makes it anexpress stipulation that I shall spend a month in his works at Chicago, superintending the forging and perfecting of the clip. As he intendsto be there himself, and to buy it out-and-out if it answers hisexpectations, I shall certainly go, and wear a smith's apron oncemore for your sake. He is even half inclined to go into another ofmy projects--the forging of large axes by machinery. It was tried atHillsborough two years ago, but the Union sent a bullet through themanufacturer's hat, and he dropped it. "

The letter from which I give this extract was a reprieve. He had five orsix weeks before him still. 

Soon after this, his faithful ally, Mr. Carden, worked on Grace's pity;and as Coventry never complained, nor irritated her in any way, shesoftened to him. Then all the battery of imploring looks was broughtto bear on her by Coventry, and of kind admonition and entreaty by herfather; and so, between them, they gently thrust her down the slope. 

"Stop all their tongues, " said Mr. Carden. "Come back to Hillsborougha wife. I gave up my choice to yours once. Now give me my way. I amtouched to the heart by this young man's devotion: he invites me to livewith him when you are married. What other young fellow would show me somuch mercy?"

"Does he?" said Grace. "I will try and reward him for that, and forspeaking well of one who could not defend himself. But give me a littletime. "

Mr. Carden conveyed this to Coventry with delight, and told him heshould only have another month or so to wait. Coventry received thisat first with unmixed exultation, but by-and-by he began to feelsuperstitious. Matters were now drawing to such a point that Littlemight very well arrive before the wedding-day, and just before it. Perhaps Heaven had that punishment in store for him; the cup was to bein his very grasp, and then struck out of it. 

Only a question of time! But what is every race? The space betweenwinner and loser strikes the senses more obviously; but the race isjust as much a question of time as of space. Buridan runs second for theDerby, defeated by a length. But give Buridan a start of one second, andhe shall beat the winner--by two lengths. 

Little now wrote from Chicago that every thing was going on favorably, and he believed it would end in a sale of the patent clip in the UnitedStates and Canada for fifty thousand dollars, but no royalty. 

This letter was much shorter than any of the others; and, from thatalone, his guilty reader could see that the writer intended to follow itin person almost immediately. 

Coventry began almost to watch the sun in his course. When it wasmorning he wished it was evening, and when it was evening he wished itwas morning. 

Sometimes he half wondered to see how calmly the sun rose and set, andNature pursued her course, whilst he writhed in the agony of suspense, and would gladly have given a year out of his life for a day. 

At last, by Mr. Carden's influence, the wedding-day was fixed. But soonafter this great triumph came another intercepted letter. He went to hisroom and his hands trembled violently as he opened it. 

His eye soon fixed on this passage:

"I thought to be in New York by this time, and looking homeward; but Iam detained by another piece of good-fortune, if any thing can be calledgood-fortune that keeps me a day from you. Oh, my dear Grace, I am dyingto see your handwriting at new York, and then fly home and see your dearself, and never, never quit you more. I have been wonderfully lucky; Ihave made my fortune, our fortune. But it hardly pays me for losing thesight of you so many months. But what I was going to tell you is, thatmy method of forging large axes by machinery is wonderfully praised, and a great firm takes it up on fair terms. This firm has branches invarious parts of the world, and, once my machines are in full work, Hillsborough will never forge another ax. Man can not suppressmachinery; the world is too big. That bullet sent through Mr. Tyler'shat loses Great Britain a whole trade. I profit in money by theirshort-sighted violence, but I must pay the price; for this will keep meanother week at Chicago, perhaps ten days. Then home I come, with lotsof money to please your father, and an ocean of love for you, who don'tcare about the filthy dross; no more do I, except as the paving-stoneson the road to you and heaven, my adored one. "

The effect of this letter was prodigious. So fearful had been thesuspense, so great was now the relief, that Coventry felt exultant, buoyant. He went down to the sea-side, and walked, light as air, by thesands, and his brain teemed with delightful schemes. Little would cometo Hillsborough soon after the marriage, but what of that?

On the wedding-night he would be at Dover. Next day at Paris, on his wayto Rome, Athens, Constantinople. The inevitable exposure should neverreach his wife until he had so won her, soul and body, that she shouldadore him for the crimes he had committed to win her--he knew the femaleheart to be capable of that. 

He came back from his walk another man, color in his cheek and fire inhis eye. 

He walked into the drawing-room, and found Mr. Raby, with his hat on, just leaving Grace, whose eyes showed signs of weeping. 

"I wish you joy, sir, " said Raby. "I am to have the honor of being atyour wedding. "

"It will add to my happiness, if possible, " said Coventry. 

To be as polite in deed as in word, he saw Mr. Raby into the fly. 

"Curious creatures, these girls, " said Raby, shrugging his shoulders. 

"She was engaged to me long ago, " said Coventry, parrying the blow. 

"Ah! I forgot that. Still--well, well; I wish you joy. "

He went off, and Coventry returned to Grace. She was seated by thewindow looking at the sea. 

"What did godpapa say to you?"

"Oh, he congratulated me. He reminded me you and I were first engaged athis house. "

"Did he tell you it is to be at Woodbine Villa?"

"What?"

"The wedding. " And Grace blushed to the forehead at having to mentionit. 

"No, indeed, he did not mention any such thing, or I should have shownhim how unadvisable--"

"You mistake me. It is I who wish to be married from my father's houseby good old Dr. Fynes. He married my parents, and he christened me, andnow he shall marry me. "

"I approve that, of course, since you wish it; but, my own dearestGrace, Woodbine Villa is associated with so many painful memories--letme advise, let me earnestly entreat you, not to select it as the placeto be married from. Dr. Fynes can be invited here. "

"I have set my heart on it, " said Grace. "Pray do not thwart me in it. "

"I should be very sorry to thwart you in any thing. But, before youfinally decide, pray let me try and convince your better judgment. "

"I HAVE decided; and I have written to Dr. Fynes, and to the few personsI mean to invite. They can't all come here; and I have asked Mr. Raby;and it is my own desire; and it is one of those things the lady and herfamily always decide. I have no wish to be married at all. I only marryto please my father and you. There, let us say no more about it, please. I will not be married at Woodbine Villa, nor anywhere else. I wish papaand you would show your love by burying me instead. "

These words, and the wild panting way they were uttered in, broughtCoventry to his knees in a moment. He promised her, with abjectsubmission, that she should have her own way in this and every thing. He petted her, and soothed her, and she forgave him, but so littlegraciously, that he saw she would fly out in a moment again, if theleast attempt were made to shake her resolution. 

Grace talked the matter over with Mr. Carden, and that same evening hebegged Coventry to leave the Villa as soon as he conveniently could, forhe and his daughter must be there a week before the wedding, and invitesome relations, whom it was his interest to treat with respect. 

"You will spare me a corner, " said Coventry, in his most insinuatingtone. "Dear Woodbine! I could not bear to leave it. "

"Oh, of course you can stay there till we actually come; but we can'thave the bride and bridegroom under one roof. Why, my dear fellow, youknow better than that. "

There was no help for it. It sickened him with fears of what mighthappen in those few fatal days, during which Mr. Carden, Grace herself, and a household over which he had no control, would occupy the house, and would receive the Postman, whose very face showed him incorruptible. 

He stayed till the last moment; stopped a letter of five lines fromLittle, in which he said he should be in New York very soon, en routefor England; and the very next day he received the Cardens, with asmiling countenance and a fainting heart, and then vacated the premises. He ordered Lally to hang about the Villa at certain hours when the postcame in, and do his best. But his was catching at a straw. His real hopewas that neither Little himself, nor a letter in his handwriting, mightcome in that short interval. 

It wanted but five days to the wedding. 

Hitherto it had been a game of skill, now it was a game of chance; andevery morning he wished it was evening, every evening he wished it wasmorning. 

The day Raby came back from Eastbank he dined at home, and, in anunguarded moment, said something or other, on which Mrs. Littlecross-examined him so swiftly and so keenly that he stammered, and letout Grace Carden was on the point of marriage. 

"Marriage, while my son is alive!" said Mrs. Little, and looked fromhim to Jael Dence, at first with amazement, and afterward with a strangeexpression that showed her mind was working. 

A sort of vague alarm fell upon the other two, and they waited, in utterconfusion, for what might follow. 

But the mother was not ready to suspect so horrible a thing as her son'sdeath. She took a more obvious view, and inveighed bitterly againstGrace Carden. 

She questioned Raby as to the cause, but it was Jael who answered her. "I believe nobody knows the rights of it but Miss Carden herself. "

"The cause is her utter fickleness; but she never really loved him. Mypoor Henry!"

"Oh yes, she did, " said Raby. "She was at death's door a few monthsago. "

"At death's door for one man, and now going to marry another!"

"Why not?" said Raby, hard pushed; "she is a woman. "

"And why did you not tell me till now?" asked Mrs. Little, loftilyignoring her brother's pitiable attempt at a sneer. 

Raby's reply to this was happier. 

"Why, what the better are you for knowing it now? We had orders not toworry you unnecessarily. Had we not, Jael?"

"That is all very well, in some things. But, where my son is concerned, pray never keep the truth from me again. When did she break off withHenry--or did he quarrel with her?"

"I have no idea. I was not in the country. "

"Do YOU know, dear?"

"No, Mrs. Little. But I am of your mind. I think she could not haveloved Mr. Henry as she ought. "

"When did you see her last?"

"I could not say justly, but it was a long while ago. "

Mrs. Little interpreted this that Jael had quarreled with Grace for herfickleness, and gave her a look of beaming affection; then fell into adead silence, and soon tears were seen stealing down her cheek. 

"But I shall write to her, " said she, after a long and painful silence. 

Mr. Raby hoped she would do nothing of the kind. 

"Oh, I shall not say much. I shall put her one question. Of course SHEknows why they part. "

Next morning Jael Dence asked Mr. Raby whether the threatened lettermust be allowed to go. 

"Of course it must, " said Raby. "I have gone as far off the straightpath as a gentleman can. And I wish we may not repent our ingenuity. Deceive a mother about her son! what can justify it, after all?"

Mrs. Little wrote her letter, and showed it to Jael:

"DEAR MISS CARDEN, --They tell me you are about to be married. Can thisbe true, and Henry Little alive?"

An answer came back, in due course. 

"DEAR MRS. LITTLE, --It is true, and I am miserable. Forgive me, andforget me. "

Mrs. Little discovered the marks of tears upon the paper, and was sorelypuzzled. 

She sat silent a long time: then looking up, she saw Jael Dence gazingat her with moist eyes, and an angelic look of anxiety and affection. 

She caught her round the neck, and kissed her, almost passionately. 

"All the better, " she cried, struggling with a sob. "I shall have my ownway for once. You shall be my daughter instead. "

Jael returned her embrace with ardor, but in silence, and with avertedhead. 

When Jael Dence heard that Grace Carden was in Hillsborough, she feltvery much drawn to go and see her: but she knew the meeting must be asad one to them both; and that made her put it off till the very daybefore the wedding. Then, thinking it would be too unkind if she heldentirely aloof, and being, in truth, rather curious to know whetherGrace had really been able to transfer her affections in so short atime, she asked Mr. Raby's leave, and drove one of the ponies in toWoodbine Villa. 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

The short interval previous to the wedding-day passed, to allappearance, as that period generally does. Settlements were drawn, and only awaited signature. The bride seemed occupied with dress, andreceiving visits and presents, and reading and writing letters of thatsort which ought to be done by machinery. 

The bridegroom hovered about the house, running in and out on this orthat pretext. 

She received his presence graciously, read him the letters of her femalefriends, and forced herself to wear a look of languid complacency, especially before others. 

Under all this routine she had paroxysms of secret misery, and he was intortures. 

These continued until the eve of the wedding, and then he breathedfreely. No letter had come from the United States, and to-morrow was thewedding-day. The chances were six to one no letter came that day, and, even if one should, he had now an excuse ready for keeping Lally onthe premises that particular morning. At one o'clock he would be flyingsouth with his bride. 

He left the villa to dress for dinner. During this interval Jael Dencecalled. 

The housemaid knocked at Grace's door--she was dressing--and told herJael wished to see her. 

Grace was surprised, and much disturbed. It flashed on her in a momentthat this true and constant lover of Henry Little had come to enjoy hersuperiority. She herself had greatly desired this meeting once, but nowit could only serve to mortify her. The very thought that this youngwoman was near her set her trembling; but she forced herself to appearcalm, and, turning to her maid, said, "Tell her I can see no oneto-day. "

The lady's maid gave this message to the other servant, and she wentdown-stairs with it. 

The message, however, had not been gone long when the desire to put aquestion to Jael Dence returned strongly upon Grace Carden. 

She yielded to an uncontrollable impulse, and sent her maid down to saythat she would speak to Jael Dence, in her bedroom, the last thing atnight. 

"The last thing at night!" said Jael, coloring with indignation; "andwhere am I to find a bed after that?"

"Oh, " said the late footman, now butler, "you shall not leave the house. I'll manage that for you with the housekeeper. "

At half-past eleven o'clock that night Grace dismissed her maid, andtold her to bring Jael Dence to her. 

Jael came, and they confronted each other once more. 

"You can go, " said Grace to the maid. 

They were alone, and eyed each other strangely. 

"Sit down, " said Grace, coldly. 

"No, thank you, " said Jael, firmly. "I shall not stay long after the wayI have been received. "

"And how do you expect to be received?"

"As I used to be. As a poor girl who once saved HIS life, and nearlylost her own, through being his true and faithful servant. "

"Faithful to him, but not to me. "

Jael's face showed she did not understand this. 

"Yes, " said Grace, bitterly, "you are the real cause of my marrying Mr. Coventry, whom I don't love, and never can love. There, read that. Ican't speak to you. You look all candor and truth, but I know what youare: all the women in that factory knew about you and him--read that. "She handed her the anonymous letter, and watched her like an eagle. 

Jael read the poison, and colored a little, but was not confounded. 

"Do you believe this, Miss Carden?"

"I did not believe it at first, but too many people have confirmed it. Your own conduct has confirmed it, my poor girl. This is cruel of me. "

"Never mind, " said Jael, resolutely. "We have gone too far to stop. Myconduct! What conduct, if you please?"

"They all say that, when you found he was no more, you attemptedself-destruction. "

"Ah, " cried Jael, like a wounded hare; "they must tell you that!" andshe buried her face in her hands. 

Now this was a young woman endowed by nature with great composure, anda certain sobriety and weight; so, when she gave way like that, itproduced a great effect on those who knew her. 

Grace sighed, and was distressed. But there was no help for it now. She awaited Jael's reply, and Jael could not speak for some time. Sheconquered her agitation, however, at last, and said, in a low voice, "Suppose you had a sister, whom you loved dearly--and then you had aquarrel with her, and neither of you much to blame, the fault lay witha third person; and suppose you came home suddenly and found thatsister had left England in trouble, and gone to the other end of theworld--would not that cut you to the heart?"

"Indeed it would. How correctly you speak. Now who has been teachingyou?"

"Mrs. Little. "

"Ah!"

"You HAVE a father. Suppose you left him for a month, and then came backand found him dead and buried--think of that--buried!"

"Poor girl!"

"And all this to fall on a poor creature just off a sick-bed, andscarcely right in her head. When I found poor Mr. Henry was dead, andyou at death's door, I crawled home for comfort, and there I founddesolation: my sister gone across the sea, my father in the churchyard. I wandered about all night, with my heavy heart and distraught brain, and at last they found me in the river. They may say I threw myselfin, but it is my belief I swooned away and fell in. I wouldn't swear, though, for I remember nothing of it. What does it prove against me?"

"Not much, indeed, by itself. But they all say you were shut up with himfor hours. "

"And that is true; ten hours, every day. He was at war with thesetrades, and his own workmen had betrayed him. He knew I was as strongas a man at some kinds of work--of course I can't strike blows, and hurtpeople like a man--so he asked me, would I help him grind saws with hismachine on the sly--clandestinely, I mean. Well, I did, and very easywork it was--child's play to me that had wrought on a farm. He gave mesix pounds a week for it. That's all the harm we did together; and, asfor what we said, let me tell you a first-rate workman, like poor Mr. Henry, works very silently; that is where they beat us women. I am surewe often ground a dozen saws, and not a word, except upon the business. When we did talk, it was sure to be about you. Poor lad, the very lasttime we wrought together, I mind he said, 'Well done, Jael, that's goodwork; it brings me an inch nearer HER. ' And I said, All the better, and I'd give him another hour or two every day if he liked. That veryevening I took him his tea at seven o'clock. He was writing letters; onewas to you. He was just addressing it. 'Good-night, Jael, ' said he. 'Youhave been a good friend to her and me. '"

"Oh! did he say that? What became of that letter?"

"Upon my soul, he did; ay, and it was his last word to me in this world. But you are not of his mind, it seems. The people in the factory! I knowthey used to say we were sweethearts. You can't wonder at that; theydidn't know about you, nor any of our secrets; and, of course, vulgarfolk like them could not guess the sort of affection I had for poor Mr. Henry; but a lady like you should not go by their lights. Besides, I wasalways open with you. Once I had a different feeling for him: did I hideit from you? When I found he loved you, I set to work to cure myself. Idid cure myself before your very eyes; and, after that, you ought tobe ashamed of yourself to go and doubt me. There, now, I have made hercry. "

Her own voice faltered a moment, and she said, with gentle dignity, "Well, I forgive you, for old kindness past; but I shall not sleep underthis roof now. God bless you, and give you many happy days yet with thisgentleman you are going to marry. Farewell. "

She was actually going; but Grace caught her by the arm. "No, no, youshall not leave me so. "

"Ay, but I will. " And Jael's eyes, so mild in general, began to sparklewith anger, at being detained against her will; but, generous to thelast, she made no use of her great strength to get clear from Grace. 

"You will not go, if you are the woman you were. I believe your words, I believe your honest face, I implore your forgiveness. I am the mostmiserable creature in this world. Pray do not abandon me. "

This appeal, made with piteous gestures and streaming eyes, overpoweredJael Dence, and soon they were seated, rocking together, and Gracepouring out her heart. 

Jael then learned, to her dismay, that Grace's belief in Henry'sfalsehood was a main cause of this sudden marriage. Had she believed herHenry true, she would have mourned him, as a widow, two years at least. 

The unhappy young lady lamented her precipitation, and the idea ofmarrying Mr. Coventry to-morrow became odious to her. She asked Jaelwildly whether she should not be justified in putting an end to herlife. 

Jael consoled her all she could; and, at her request, slept in the samebed with her. Indeed she was afraid to leave her; for she was wild attimes, and said she would prefer to be married to that dead hand peoplesaid was at the Town hall, and then thrown into one grave with it. "That's the bridal I long for, " said she. 

In the morning she was calmer, and told Jael she thought she was doingright. 

"I shall be neither more nor less wretched for marrying this poor man, "said she: "and I shall make two people happy; two people that deservethe sacrifice I make. "

So, after all, the victim went calmly. 

Early in the morning came a letter from Dr. Fynes. He was confined bygout, and sorry to say the ceremony he had hoped to perform must be doneby his curate. 

Now this curate was quite a stranger to Grace, and indeed to most peoplein Hillsborough. Dr. Fynes himself knew nothing about him except that hehad come in answer to his inquiry for a curate, had brought good lettersof recommendation, and had shown himself acquainted with the learneddoctor's notes to Apollonius Rhodius; on which several grounds thedoctor, who was himself a better scholar than a priest, had made himhis curate, and had heard no complaints, except from a few puritanicalsouls. These he looked on as barbarians, and had calmly ignored them andtheir prejudices ever since he transferred his library from St. John'sCollege, Cambridge, to St. Peter's Rectory, and that was thirty yearsago. 

This sudden substitute of an utter stranger for Dr. Fynes afflictedGrace Carden not a little, and her wedding-day began with a tear or twoon that account. But, strange as it may appear, she lived to alter hermind, and to thank and bless Mr. Beresford for taking her old friend'splace on that great occasion. 

But while the bride dressed for church, and her bridemaids and friendsdrove up, events were taking place to deal with which I must retrogradea step. 

Jael Dence having gone to Woodbine Villa, Mrs. Little and her brotherdined tete-a-tete; and the first question she asked was, "Why where isJael?"

"Don't you know? gone to Woodbine Villa. The wedding is to-morrow. "

"What, my Jael gone to that girl's wedding!" And her eyes flashed withfire. 

"Why not? I am going to it myself. "

"I am sorry to hear you say so--very sorry. "

"Why, she is my godchild. Would you have me affront her?"

"If she is your godchild, Henry is your nephew. "

"Of course, and I did all I could to marry him to Grace; but, you see, he would be wiser than me. "

"Dear Guy, my poor Henry was to blame for not accepting your generousoffer; but that does not excuse this heartless, fickle girl. "

Raby's sense of justice began to revolt. "My dear Edith, I can't bearto hear you speak so contemptuously of this poor girl, who has so nearlydied for love of your son. She is one of the noblest, purest, mostunselfish creatures I ever knew. Why judge so hastily? But that is theway with you ladies; it must be the woman who is in the wrong. Men aregods, and women devils; that is your creed. "

"Is HENRY going to marry another?"

"Not that I know of. "

"Then what excuse can there be for her conduct? Does wrong become right, when this young lady does it? It is you who are prejudiced, not I. Herconduct is without excuse. I have written to her: she has replied, andhas offered me no excuse. 'Forgive me, ' she says, 'and forget me. ' Ishall never forgive her; and you must permit me to despise her for a fewyears before I forget her. "

"Well, don't excite yourself so. My poor Edith, some day or otheryou will be sorry you ever said a word against that amiable and mostunfortunate girl. "

He said this so sadly and solemnly that Mrs. Little's anger felldirectly, and they both sat silent a long time. 

"Guy, " said Mrs. Little, "tell me the truth. Has my son done anythingwrong--anything rash? It was strange he should leave England withouttelling me. He told Dr. Amboyne. Oh, there is some mystery here. If Idid not know you so well, I should say there is some deceit going onin this house. There IS--You hang your head. I cannot bear to give youpain, so I will ask you no more questions. But--"

There was a world of determination in that "but. "

She retired early to bed; to bed, but not to rest. 

In the silence of the night she recalled every thing, every look, everyword that had seemed a little strange to her, and put them all together. She could not sleep; vague misgivings crawled over her agitated mind. At length she slumbered from sheer exhaustion. She rose early; yet, whenshe came down-stairs, Raby was just starting for Woodbine Villa. 

Mrs. Little asked him to take her into Hillsborough. He looked uneasy, but complied, and, at her desire, set her down in the market-placeof Hillsborough. As soon as he was out of sight she took a fly, anddirected the driver to take her to Mr. Little's works. "I mean, " saidshe, "the works where Mr. Bayne is. "

She found Mr. Bayne in his counting-house, dressed in deep mourning. 

He started at sight of her, and then she saw his eye fall with surpriseon her gray dress. 

"Mr. Bayne, " said she, "I am come to ask you a question or two. "

"Be seated, madam, " said Bayne, reverently. "I expected a visit from youor from your agent, and the accounts are all ready for your inspection. I keep them as clear as possible. "

"I do not come here about accounts. My son has perfect confidence inyou, and so have I. "

"Thank you, madam; thank you kindly. He did indeed honor me with hisconfidence, and with his friendship. I am sure he was more like abrother to me than an employer. Ah, madam! I shall never, never, see hisfellow again. " And honest Bayne turned away with his hand to his eyes. 

This seemed to Mrs. Little to be more than the occasion required, anddid not tend to lessen her misgivings. However, she said gravely, "Mr. Bayne, I suppose you have heard there is to be a wedding in the townto-day--Miss Carden?"

"That is sudden! No, madam, I didn't know it. I can hardly believe it. "

"It is so. She marries a Mr. Coventry. Now I think you were in my son'sconfidence; can you tell me whether there was any quarrel between himand Miss Carden before he left us?"

"Well, madam, I didn't see so much of him lately, he was always at theother works. Would to heaven he had never seen them! But I don't believehe ever gave that lady an unkind word. He was not that sort. He wasready of his hand against a man, but a very lamb with women he was. Andso she is going to marry? Well, well; the world, it must go round. Sheloved him dearly, too. She was down at Bolt and Little's works day afterday searching for him. She spent money like water, poor thing! I haveseen her with her white face and great eyes watching the men drag theriver for him; and, when that horrible thing was found at last, they sayshe was on the bridge and swooned dead away, and lay at death's door. But you will know all this, madam; and it is sad for me to speak of, letalone you that are his mother. "

The color died out of Mrs. Little's cheek as he spoke; but, catching nowa glimpse of the truth, she drew Bayne on with terrible cunning, and solearned that there had been a tremendous explosion, and Jael Dence takenup for dead; and that, some time after, an arm and a hand had been foundin the river and recognized for the remains of Henry Little. 

When she had got this out of the unwary Bayne she uttered a piercingscream, and her head hung over the chair, and her limbs writhed, and thewhole creature seemed to wither up. 

Then Bayne saw with dismay what he had done, and began to falter outexpressions of regret. She paid no attention. 

He begged her to let him fetch her some salts or a cordial. 

She shook her head and lay weak as water and white as a sheet. 

At last she rose, and, supporting herself for a moment by the back ofthe chair, she said, "you will take me to see my son's remains. "

"Oh, for heaven's sake, don't think of it!"

"I must; I cannot keep away from them an instant. And how else canI know they are his? Do you think I will believe any eye but my own?Come. "

He had no power to disobey her. He trembled in every limb at what wascoming, but he handed her into her carriage, and went with her to theTown Hall. 

When they brought her the tweed sleeves, she trembled like an aspenleaf. When they brought her the glass receptacle, she seized Bayne bythe shoulder and turned her head away. By degrees she looked round, andseemed to stiffen all of a sudden. "It is not my son, " said she. 

She rushed out of the place, bade Mr. Bayne good-morning, and drovedirectly to Dr. Amboyne. She attacked him at once. "You have beendeceiving me all this time about my son; and what am I the better? Whatis anybody the better? Now tell me the truth. You think him dead?"

(Dr. Amboyne hung his head in alarm and confusion. )

"Why do you think so? Do you go by those remains? I have seen them. My child was vaccinated on the left arm, and carried the mark. He hadspecks on two of his finger-nails; he had a small wart on his littlefinger; and his fingers were not blunt and uncouth, like that; they wereas taper as any lady's in England; that hand is nothing like my son's;you are all blind; yet you must go and blind the only one who had eyes, the only one who really loved him, and whose opinion is worth a straw. "

Dr. Amboyne was too delighted at the news to feel these reproaches verydeeply. "Thank God!" said he. "Scold me, for I deserve it. But I did forthe best; but, unfortunately, we have still to account for his writingto no one all this time. No matter. I begin to hope. THAT was the worstevidence. Edith, I must go to Woodbine Villa. That poor girl must notmarry in ignorance of this. Believe me, she will never marry Coventry, if HE is alive. Excuse my leaving you at such a time, but there is not amoment to be lost. "

He placed her on a sofa, and opened the window; for, by a naturalreaction, she was beginning to feel rather faint. He gave hishousekeeper strict orders to take care of her, then snatching his hat, went hastily out. 

At the door he met the footman with several letters (he had a largecorrespondence), shoved them pell-mell into his breast-pocket, shoutedto a cabman stationed near, and drove off to Woodbine Villa. 

It was rather up-hill, but he put his head out of the window and offeredthe driver a sovereign to go fast. The man lashed his horse up the hill, and did go very fast, though it seemed slow to Dr. Amboyne, because hiswishes flew so much faster. 

At last he got to the villa, and rang furiously. 

After a delay that set the doctor stamping, Lally appeared. 

"I must see Miss Carden directly. "

"Step in, sir; she won't be long now. "

Dr. Amboyne walked into the dining-room, and saw it adorned with awealth of flowers, and the wedding-breakfast set out with the usualsplendor; but there was nobody there; and immediately an uneasysuspicion crossed his mind. 

He came out into the passage, and found Lally there. 

"Are they gone to the church?"

"They are, " said Lally, with consummate coolness. 

"You Irish idiot!" roared the doctor, "why couldn't you tell me thatbefore?" And, notwithstanding his ungainly figure, he ran down the road, shouting, like a Stentor, to his receding cabman. 

"Bekase I saw that every minute was goold, " said Lally, as soon as hewas out of hearing. 

The cabman, like most of his race, was rather deaf and a little blind, and Dr. Amboyne was much heated and out of breath before he capturedhim. He gasped out, "To St. Peter's Church, for your life!"

It was rather down-hill this time, and about a mile off. 

In little more than five minutes the cab rattled up to the church door. 

Dr. Amboyne got out, told the man to wait, and entered the church with arapid step. 

Before he had gone far up the center aisle, he stopped. 

Mr. Coventry and Grace Carden were coming down the aisle together inwedding costume, the lady in her bridal veil. 

They were followed by the bridemaids. 

Dr. Amboyne stared, and stepped aside into an open pew to let them pass. 

They swept by; he looked after them, and remained glued to his seat tillthe church was clear of the procession. 

He went into the vestry, and found the curate there. 

"Are that couple really married, sir?" said he. 

The curate looked amazed. "As fast as I can make them, " said he, ratherflippantly. 

"Excuse me, " said the doctor, faintly. "It was a foolish question toask. "

"I think I have the honor of speaking to Dr. Amboyne?"

Dr. Amboyne bowed mechanically. 

"You will be at the wedding-breakfast, of course?"

"Humph!"

"Why, surely, you are invited?"

"Yes" (with an equally absent air). 

Finding him thus confused, the sprightly curate laughed and bade himgood-morning, jumped into a hansom, and away to Woodbine Villa. 

Dr. Amboyne followed him slowly. 

"Drive me to Woodbine Villa. There's no hurry now. "

On the way, he turned the matter calmly over, and put this question tohimself: Suppose he had reached the villa in time to tell Grace Cardenthe news! Certainly he would have disturbed the wedding; but would ithave been put off any the more? The bride's friends and advisers wouldhave replied, "But that is no positive proof that he is alive; and, if he is alive, he has clearly abandoned her. Not a line for all thesemonths. "

This view of the matter appeared to him unanswerable, and reconciledhim, in a great degree, to what seemed inevitable. 

He uttered one deep sigh of regret, and proceeded now to read hisletters; for he was not likely to have another opportunity for an houror two at least, since he must be at the wedding breakfast. His absencewould afflict the bride. 

The third letter he took out of his breast-pocket bore an Americanpostmark. At the first word of it he uttered an ejaculation, and his eyedarted to the signature. 

Then he gave a roar of delight. It was signed "Henry Little, " and thedate only twelve days old. 

His first thought was the poor lady who, at this moment, lay on a sofain his house, a prey to doubts and fears he could now cure in a moment. 

But no sooner had he cast his eyes over the contents, than his veryflesh began to creep with dire misgivings and suspicions. 

To these succeeded the gravest doubts as to the course he ought topursue at Woodbine Villa. 

He felt pretty sure that Grace Carden had been entrapped into marrying avillain, and his first impulse was to denounce the bridegroom before theassembled guests. 

But his cooler judgment warned him against acting in hot blood, andsuggested it would be better to try and tell her privately. 

And then he asked himself what would be the consequence of telling her. 

She was a lady of great spirit, fire, and nobility. She would never livewith this husband of hers. 

And then came the question, What would be her life?

She might be maid, wife, and widow all her days. 

Horrible as it was, he began almost to fear her one miserable chance ofhappiness might lie in ignorance. 

But then how long could she be in ignorance?

Little was coming home; he would certainly speak out. 

Dr. Amboyne was more tormented with doubts than a man of inferiorintellect would have been. His was an academic mind, accustomed to lookat every side of a question; and, when he reached Woodbine Villa, hewas almost distracted with doubt and perplexity. However, there was oneperson from whom the news must not be kept a moment. He took an envelopeout of his pocket-book, and sent the cabman to Mrs. Little with thisline:

"Thank God, I have a letter from Henry Little by this day's post. Heis well. Wait an hour or two for me. I can not leave Woodbine Villa atpresent. "

He sent this off by his cabman, and went into the breakfast-room in astate of mind easier to imagine than to describe. 

The party were all seated, and his the only vacant place. 

It was like a hundred other weddings at which he had been; and, seeingthe bride and bridegroom seated together as usual, and the prettybridemaids tittering, as usual, and the gentle dullness lighted up withhere and there a feeble jest, as usual, he could hardly realize thathorrible things lay beneath the surface of all this snowy bride-cake, and flowers, and white veils, and weak jocoseness. 

He stared, bowed, and sunk into his place like a man in a dream. 

Bridemaids became magnetically conscious that an incongruous elementhad entered; so they tittered. At what does sweet silly seventeen nottitter?

Knives and forks clattered, champagne popped, and Dr. Amboyne was moreperplexed and miserable than he had ever been. He had never encountereda more hopeless situation. 

Presently Lally came and touched the bridegroom. He apologized, and leftthe room a moment. 

Lally then told him to be on his guard, for the fat doctor knewsomething. He had come tearing up in a fly, and had been dreadfully putout when he found Miss Carden was gone to the church. 

"Well, but he might merely wish to accompany her to the church: he is anold friend. "

Lally shook his head and said there was much more in it than that; hecould tell by the man's eye, and his uneasy way. "Master, dear, get outof this, for heaven's sake, as fast as ye can. "

"You are right; go and order the carriage round, as soon as the horsescan be put to. "

Coventry then went hastily back to the bridal guests, and Lally ran tothe neighboring inn which furnished the four post-horses. 

Coventry had hardly settled down in his chair before he cast a keen butfurtive glance at Dr. Amboyne's face. 

Then he saw directly that the doctor's mind was working, and that he wassecretly and profoundly agitated. 

But, after all, he thought, what could the man know? And if he had knownany thing, would he have kept it to himself?

Still he judged it prudent to propitiate Dr. Amboyne; so, when the timecame for the usual folly of drinking healths, he leaned over to him, and, in the sweetest possible voice, asked him if he would do them boththe honor to propose the bride's health. 

At this unexpected call from Mr. Coventry, Dr. Amboyne stared in thebridegroom's face. He stared at him so that other people began to stare. Recovering himself a little, he rose mechanically, and surprised everybody who knew him. 

Instead of the easy gayety natural to himself and proper to theoccasion, he delivered a few faltering words of affection for the bride;then suddenly stopped, and, after a pause, said, "But some younger manmust foretell her the bright career she deserves. I am unfit. We don'tknow what an hour may bring forth. " With this he sunk into his chair. 

An uneasy grin, and then a gloom, fell on the bright company at thesestrange words, and all looked at one another uncomfortably. 

But this situation was unexpectedly relieved. The young curate rose, andsaid, "I accept the honor Dr. Amboyne is generous enough to transfer tothe younger gentlemen of the party--accept it with pride. "

Starting from this exordium, he pronounced, with easy volubility, acharming panegyric on the bride, congratulated her friends, and thencongratulated himself on being the instrument to unite her in holywedlock with a gentleman worthy of her affection. Then, assuming for onemoment the pastor, he pronounced a blessing on the pair, and sat down, casting glances all round out of a pair of singularly restless eyes. 

The loud applause that followed left him in no doubt as to thefavorable effect he had produced. Coventry, in particular, looked mostexpressively grateful. 

The bridegroom's health followed, and Coventry returned thanks ina speech so neat and well delivered that Grace felt proud of hisperformance. 

Then the carriage and four came round, and Coventry gave Grace animploring glance on which she acted at once, being herself anxious toescape from so much publicity. She made her courtesies, and retired toput on her traveling-dress. 

Then Dr. Amboyne cursed his own indecision, but still could not make uphis mind, except to tell Raby, and make him the judge what course wasbest. 

The gayety, never very boisterous, began to flag altogether; whensuddenly a noise was heard outside, and one or two young people, whodarted unceremoniously to the window, were rewarded by the sight of aman and a woman struggling and quarreling at the gate. The disturbancein question arose thus: Jael Dence, looking out of Grace's window, sawthe postman coming, and ran to get Grace her letters (if any) before shewent. 

The postman, knowing her well, gave her the one letter there was. 

Lally, returning from the inn, where he had stopped one unlucky minuteto drain a glass, saw this, and ran after Jael and caught her justinside the gate. 

"That is for me, " said he, rudely. 

"Nay, it's for thy betters, young man; 'tis for Miss Grace Carden. "

"She is Mrs. Coventry now, so give it me. "

"I'll take her orders first. "

On this Lally grabbed at it and caught Jael's right hand, which closeddirectly on the letter like a vise. 

"Are these your manners?" said she. "Give over now. "

"I tell you I will have it!" said he, fiercely, for he had caught sightof the handwriting. 

He seized her hand and applied his knuckles to the back of it with allhis force. That hurt her, and she gave a cry, and twisted away from himand drew back; then, putting her left hand to his breast, she gavea great yaw, and then a forward rush with her mighty loins, and acontemporaneous shove with her amazing left arm, that would have pusheddown some brick walls, and the weight and strength so suddenly appliedsent Lally flying like a feather. His head struck the stone gate-post, and he measured his length under it. 

Jael did not know how completely she had conquered him, and she ran inwith a face as red as fire, and took the letter up to Grace, and wastelling her, all in a heat, about the insolence of her new husband'sIrish servant, when suddenly she half recognized the handwriting, andstood staring at it, and began to tremble. 

"Why, what is the matter?" said Grace. 

"Oh, nothing, miss. I'm foolish. The writing seems to me like a writingwe shall never see again. " And she stood and trembled still more, forthe handwriting struck her more and more. 

Grace ran to her, and at the very first glance uttered a shriek ofrecognition. She caught it from Jael, tore it open, saw the signature, and sunk into a chair, half fainting, with the letter pressedconvulsively to her breast. 

Jael, trembling, but comparatively self-possessed, ran to the doordirectly and locked it. 

"My darling! my darling! he is alive! The dear words, they swim beforemy eyes. Read! read! tell me what he says. Why has he abandoned me? Hehas not abandoned me! O God! what have I done? what have I done?"

Before that letter was half read, or rather sobbed, out to her, Gracetore off all her bridal ornaments and trampled them under her feet, andmoaned, and twisted, and writhed as if her body was being tortured aswell as her heart; for Henry was true as ever, and she had married avillain. 

She took the letter from Jael, and devoured every word; though she wasgroaning and sobbing with the wildest agony all the time. 

"NEW YORK, July 18th. 

"MY OWN DEAREST GRACE, --I write you these few lines in wonder and pain. I have sent you at least fifteen letters, and in most of them I havebegged you to write to me at the Post-office, New York; yet not one lineis here to greet me in your dear handwriting. Yet my letters must haveall reached Woodbine Villa, or why are they not sent back? Of threeletters I sent to my mother, two have been returned from Aberystwith, marked, 'Gone away, and not left her address. '

"I have turned this horrible thing every way in my mind, and even prayedGod to assist my understanding; and I come back always to the same ideathat some scoundrel has intercepted my letters. 

"The first of these I wrote at the works on the evening I leftHillsborough; the next I wrote from Boston, after my long illness, ingreat distress of mind on your account; for I put myself in your place, and thought what agony it would be to me if nine weeks passed, and noword from you. The rest were written from various cities, telling you Iwas making our fortune, and should soon be home. Oh, I can not write ofsuch trifles now!

"My own darling, let me find you alive; that is all I ask. I know Ishall find you true to me, if you are alive. 

"Perhaps it would have been better if my heart had not been so entirelyfilled by you. God has tried me hard in some things, but He has blessedme with true friends. It was ungrateful of me not to write to suchtrue friends as Dr. Amboyne and Jael Dence. But, whenever I thought ofEngland, I saw only you. 

"By this post I write to Dr. Amboyne, Mr. Bolt, Mr. Bayne, and JaelDence. 

"This will surely baffle the enemy who has stopped all my letters toyou, and will stop this one, I dare say. 

"I say no more, beloved one. What is the use? You will perhaps never seethis letter, and you know more than I can say, for you know how I loveyou: and that is a great deal more than ever I can put on paper. 

"I sail for England in four days. God help me to get over the interval. 

"I forget whether I told you I had made my fortune. Your devoted andmost unhappy lover, "Henry. "

Grace managed to read this, in spite of the sobs and moans that shookher, and the film that half blinded her; and, when she had read it, sank heavily down, and sat all crushed together, with hands working likefrenzy. 

Jael kneeled beside her, and kissed and wept over her, unheeded. 

Then Jael prayed aloud beside her, unheeded. 

At last she spoke, looking straight before her, as if she was speakingto the wall. 

"Bring my godfather here. "

"Won't you see your father first?" said Jael, timidly. 

"I have no father. I want something I can lean on over the gulf--a manof honor. Fetch Mr. Raby to me. "

Jael kissed her tenderly, and wept over her once more a minute, thenwent softly down-stairs and straight into the breakfast-room. 

Here, in the meantime, considerable amusement had been created by thecontest between Lally and Jael Dence, the more so on account of thetriumph achieved by the weaker vessel. 

When Lally got up, and looked about him ruefully, great was the delightof the younger gentlemen. 

When he walked in-doors, they chaffed him through an open window, andnone of them noticed that the man was paler than even the rough usage hehad received could account for. 

This jocund spirit, however, was doomed to be short-lived. 

Lally came into the room, looking pale and troubled, and whispered aword in his master's ear; then retired, but left his master as pale ashimself. 

Coventry, seated at a distance from the window, had not seen thescrimmage outside, and Lally's whispered information fell on him like athunderbolt. 

Mr. Beresford saw at once that something was wrong, and hinted as muchto his neighbor. It went like magic round the table, and there was anuneasy silence. 

In the midst of this silence, mysterious sounds began to be heard in thebride's chamber: a faint scream; feet rushing across the floor; a soundas of some one sinking heavily on to a chair or couch. 

Presently came a swift stamping that told a tale of female passion; andafter that confused sounds that could not be interpreted through theceiling, yet somehow the listeners felt they were unusual. One or twoattempted conversation, out of politeness; but it died away--curiosityand uneasiness prevailed. 

Lally put his head in at the door, and asked if the carriage was to bepacked. 

"Of course, " said Coventry; and soon the servants, male and female, wereseen taking boxes out from the hall to the carriage. 

Jael Dence walked into the room, and went to Mr. Raby. 

"The bride desires to see you immediately, sir. "

Raby rose, and followed Jael out. 

The next minute a lady's maid came, with a similar message to Dr. Amboyne. 

He rose with great alacrity, and followed her. 

There was nothing remarkable in the bride's taking private leave ofthese two valued friends. But somehow the mysterious things that hadpreceded made the guests look with half-suspicious eyes into everything; and Coventry's manifest discomfiture, when Dr. Amboyne was sentfor, justified this vague sense that there was something strange goingon beneath the surface. 

Neither Raby nor Amboyne came down again, and Mr. Beresford remarkedaloud that the bride's room was like the lion's den in the fable, "'Vestigia nulla retrorsum. '"

At last the situation became intolerable to Coventry. He rose, indesperation, and said, with a ghastly attempt at a smile, that he must, nevertheless, face the dangers of the place himself, as the carriage wasnow packed, and Mrs. Coventry and he, though loath to leave their kindfriends, had a longish journey before them. "Do not move, I pray; Ishall be back directly. "

As soon as he had got out of the room, he held a whispered consultationwith Lally, and then, collecting all his courage, and summoning all hispresence of mind, he went slowly up the stairs, determined to disownLally's acts (Lally himself had suggested this), and pacify Grace'sfriends, if he could; but, failing that, to turn round, and standhaughtily on his legal rights, ay, and enforce them too. 

But, meantime, what had passed in the bride's chamber?

Raby found Grace Carden, with her head buried on her toilet-table, andher hair all streaming down her back. 

The floor was strewn with pearls and broken ornaments, and fragments ofthe bridal veil. On the table lay Henry Little's letter. 

Jael took it without a word, and gave it to Raby. 

He took it, and, after a loud ejaculation of surprise, began to read it. 

He had not quite finished it when Dr. Amboyne tapped at the door, andJael let him in. 

The crushed figure with disheveled hair, and Raby's eye gleaming overthe letter in his hand, told him at once what was going on. 

He ceased to doubt, or vacillate, directly; he whispered Jael Dence tostand near Grace, and watch her closely. 

He had seen a woman start up and throw herself, in one moment, out ofa window, for less than this--a woman crushed apparently, and more deadthan alive, as Grace Carden was. 

Then he took out his own letter, and read it in a low voice to Mr. Raby;but it afterward appeared the bride heard every word. 

"MY BEST FRIEND, --Forgive me for neglecting you so long, and writingonly to her I love with all my soul. Forgive me, for I smart for it. Ihave written fifteen letters to my darling Grace, and received no reply. I wrote her one yesterday, but have now no hope she will ever getit. This is terrible, but there is worse behind. This very day I havelearned that my premises were blown up within a few hours of my leaving, and poor, faithful Jael Dence nearly killed; and then a report of my owndeath was raised, and some remains found in the ruins that fools saidwere mine. I suppose the letters I left in the box were all destroyed bythe fire. 

"Now, mark my words, one and the same villain has put that dead man'shand and arm in the river, and has stopped my letters to Grace; Iam sure of it. So what I want you to do is, first of all, to see mydarling, and tell her I am alive and well, and then put her on her guardagainst deceivers. 

"I suspect the postman has been tampered with. I write to Mr. Ransometo look into that. But what you might learn for me is, whether any bodylately has had any opportunity to stop letters addressed to 'WoodbineVilla. ' That seems to point to Mr. Carden, and he was never a friend ofmine. But, somehow, I don't think he would do it. 

"You see, I ask myself two questions. Is there any man in the world whohas a motive strong enough to set him tampering with my letters? and, again, is there any man base enough to do such an act? And the answerto both questions is the same. I have a rival, and he is base enough forany thing. Judge for yourself. I as good as saved that Coventry's lifeone snowy night, and all I asked in return was that he wouldn't blow meto the Trades, and so put my life in jeopardy. He gave his word of honorhe wouldn't. But he broke his word. One day, when Grotait and I werefast friends, and never thought to differ again, Grotait told me thisCoventry was the very man that came to him and told him where I wasworking. Such a lump of human dirt as that--for you can't call him aman--must be capable of any thing. "

Here the reading of the letter was interrupted by an incident. 

There was on the toilet-table a stiletto, with a pearl handle. It was asmall thing, but the steel rather long, and very bright and pointed. 

The unfortunate bride, without lifting her head from the table, hadreached out her hand, and was fingering this stiletto. Jael Dence wentand took it gently away, and put it out of reach. The bride went onfingering, as if she had still got hold of it. 

Amboyne exchanged an approving glance with Jael, and Raby concluded theletter. 

"I shall be home in a few days after this; and, if I find my darlingwell and happy, there's no great harm done. I don't mind my own troubleand anxiety, great as they are, but if any scoundrel has made herunhappy, or made her believe I am dead, or false to my darling, by God, I'll kill him, though I hang for it next day!"

Crushed, benumbed, and broken as Grace Coventry was, this sentenceseemed to act on her like an electric shock. 

She started wildly up. "What! my Henry die like a felon--for a villainlike him, and an idiot like me! You won't allow that; nor you--nor I. "

A soft step came to the door, and a gentle tap. 

"Who is that?" said Dr. Amboyne. 

"The bridegroom, " replied a soft voice. 

"You can't come in here, " said Raby, roughly. 

"Open the door, " said the bride. 

Jael went to the door, but looked uncertain. 

"Don't keep the bridegroom out, " said Grace, reproachfully. Then, in avoice as sweet as his own, "I want to see him; I want to speak to him. "

Jael opened the door slowly, for she felt uneasy. Raby shrugged hisshoulders contemptuously at Grace's condescending to speak to the man, and in so amiable a tone. 

Coventry entered, and began, "My dear Grace, the carriage is ready--"

No sooner had she got him fairly into the room, than the bride snatchedup the stiletto, and flew at the bridegroom with gleaming eyes, upliftedweapon, the yell of a furious wild beast, and hair flying out behind herhead like a lion's mane. 

CHAPTER XL. 

Dr. Amboyne and Raby cried out, and tried to interfere; but Grace'smovement was too swift, furious, and sudden; she was upon the man, withher stiletto high in the air, before they could get to her, and indeedthe blow descended, and, inspired as it was by love, and hate, and fury, would doubtless have buried the weapon in a rascal's body; but JaelDence caught Grace's arm: that weakened, and also diverted the blow; yetthe slight, keen weapon pierced Coventry's cheek, and even inflicted aslight wound upon the tongue. That very moment Jael Dence dragged heraway, and held her round the waist, writhing and striking the air; herwhite hand and bridal sleeve sprinkled with her bridegroom's blood. 

As for him, his love, criminal as it was, supplied the place of heroism:he never put up a finger in defense. "No, " said he, despairingly, "letme die by her hand; it is all I hope for now. " He even drew near her toenable her to carry out her wish: but, on that, Jael Dence wrenched herround directly, and Dr. Amboyne disarmed her, and Raby marched betweenthe bride and the bridegroom, and kept them apart: then they all drewtheir breath, for the first time, and looked aghast at each other. 

Not a face in that room had an atom of color left in it; yet it was notuntil the worst was over that they realized the savage scene. 

The bridegroom leaned against the wardrobe, a picture of despair, withblood trickling from his cheek, and channeling his white waist-coatand linen; the bride, her white and bridal sleeve spotted with blood, writhed feebly in Jael Dence's arms, and her teeth clicked together, andher eyes shone wildly. At that moment she was on the brink of frenzy. 

Raby, a man by nature, and equal to great situations, was the first torecover self-possession and see his way. "Silence!" said he, sternly. "Amboyne, here's a wounded man; attend to him. "

He had no need to say that twice; the doctor examined his patientzealously, and found him bleeding from the tongue as well as the cheek;he made him fill his mouth with a constant supply of cold water, andapplied cold water to the nape of his neck. 

And now there was a knock at the door, and a voice inquired ratherimpatiently, what they were about all this time. It was Mr. Carden'svoice. 

They let him in, but instantly closed the door. "Now, hush!" said Raby, "and let me tell him. " He then, in a very few hurried words, told himthe matter. Coventry hung his head lower and lower. 

Mr. Carden was terribly shaken. He could hardly speak for some time. When he did, it was in the way of feeble expostulation. "Oh, my child!my child! what, would you commit murder?"

"Don't you see I would, " cried she, contemptuously, "sooner than HEshould do it, and suffer for it like a felon? You are all blind, andno friends of mine. I should have rid the earth of a monster, and theywould never have hanged ME. I hate you all, you worst of all, that callyourself my father, and drove me to marry this villain. One thing--youwon't be always at hand to protect him. "

"I'll give you every opportunity, " said Coventry, doggedly. "You shallkill me for loving you so madly. "

"She shall do no such thing, " said Mr. Carden. "Opportunity? do you knowher so little as to think she will ever live with you. Get out of myhouse, and never presume to set foot in at again. My good friends, havepity on a miserable father and help me to hide this monstrous thing fromthe world. "

This appeal was not lost: the gentlemen put their heads together and ledCoventry into another room. There Dr. Amboyne attended to him, while Mr. Carden went down and told his guests the bridegroom had been taken ill, so seriously indeed that anxiety and alarm had taken the place of joy. 

The guests took the hint and dispersed, wondering and curious. 

Meantime, on one side of a plaster wall Amboyne was attending thebridegroom, and stanching the effusion of blood; on the other, Raby andJael Dence were bringing the bride to reason. 

She listened to nothing they could say until they promised her mostsolemnly that she should never be compelled to pass a night under thesame roof as Frederick Coventry. That pacified her not a little. 

Dr. Amboyne had also great trouble with his patient: the wound in thecheek was not serious; but, by a sort of physical retribution--of which, by-the-bye, I have encountered many curious examples--the tongue, thatguilty part of Frederick Coventry, though slightly punctured, bled sopersistently that Amboyne was obliged to fill his mouth with ice, and atlast support him with stimulants. He peremptorily refused to let him bemoved from Woodbine Villa. 

When this was communicated to Grace, she instantly exacted Raby'spromise; and as he was a man who never went from his word, he drove herand Jael to Raby Hall that very night, and they left Coventry in thevilla, attended by a surgeon, under whose care Amboyne had left him withstrict injunctions. Mr. Carden was secretly mortified at his daughter'sretreat, but raised no objection. 

Next morning, however, he told Coventry; and then Coventry insisted onleaving the house. "I am unfortunate enough, " said he: "do not let meseparate my only friend from his daughter. "

Mr. Carden sent a carriage off to Raby Hall, with a note, telling GraceMr. Coventry was gone of his own accord, and appeared truly penitent, and much shocked at having inadvertently driven her out of the house. He promised also to protect her, should Coventry break his word andattempted to assume marital rights without her concurrence. 

This letter found Grace in a most uncomfortable position. Mrs. Littlehad returned late to Raby Hall; but in the morning she heard from JaelDence that Grace was in the house, and why. 

The mother's feathers were up, and she could neither pity nor excuse. She would not give the unhappy girl a word of comfort. Indeed, shesternly refused to see her. "No, " said she: "Mrs. Coventry is unhappy;so this is no time to show her how thoroughly Henry Little's motherdespises her. "

These bitter words never reached poor Grace, but the bare fact ofMrs. Little not coming down-stairs by one o'clock, nor sending a civilmessage, spoke volumes, and Grace was sighing over it when her father'sletter came. She went home directly, and so heartbroken, that Jael Dencepitied her deeply, and went with her, intending to stay a day or twoonly. 

But every day something or other occurred, which combined with Grace'sprayers to keep her at Woodbine Villa. 

Mr. Coventry remained quiet for some days, by which means he pacifiedGrace's terrors. 

On the fourth day Mr. Beresford called at Woodbine Villa, and Gracereceived him, he being the curate of the parish. 

He spoke to her in a sympathetic tone, which let her know at once hewas partly in the secret. He said he had just visited a very guilty, but penitent man; that we all need forgiveness, and that a woman, oncemarried, has no chance of happiness but with her husband. 

Grace maintained a dead silence, only her eye began to glitter. 

Mr. Beresford, who had learned to watch the countenance of all thosehe spoke to changed his tone immediately, from a spiritual to a secularadviser. 

"If I were you, " said he, in rather an offhand way, "I would eitherforgive this man the sin into which his love has betrayed him, or Iwould try to get a divorce. This would cost money: but, if you don'tmind expense, I think I could suggest a way--"

Grace interrupted him. "From whom did you learn my misery, and hisvillainy? I let you in, because I thought you came from God; but youcome from a villain. Go back, sir, and say that an angel, sent by him, becomes a devil in my eyes. " And she rang the bell with a look thatspoke volumes. 

Mr. Beresford bowed, smiled bitterly, and went back to Coventry, withwhom he had a curious interview, that ended in Coventry lending him twohundred pounds on his personal security. To dispose of Mr. Beresfordfor the present I will add that, soon after this, his zeal for thepoor subjected him to an affront. He was a man of soup-kitchens andsubscriptions. One of the old fogies, who disliked him, wrote letters toThe Liberal, and demanded an account of his receipts and expenditure inthese worthy objects, and repeated the demand with a pertinacity thatimplied suspicion. Then Mr. Beresford called upon Dr. Fynes, and showedhim the letters, and confessed to him that he never kept any accounts, either of public or private expenditure. "I can construe ApolloniusRhodius--with your assistance, sir, " said he, "but I never could add uppounds, shillings, and pence; far less divide them except amongst theafflicted. " "Take no notice of the cads, " said Dr. Fynes. But Beresfordrepresented meekly that a clergyman's value and usefulness were gonewhen once a slur was thrown upon him. Then Dr. Fynes gave him hightestimonials, and they parted with mutual regret. 

It took Grace a day to get over her interview with Mr. Beresford; andwhen with Jael's help she was calm again, she received a letter fromCoventry, indited in tones of the deepest penitence, but remindingher that he had offered her his life, had made no resistance when sheoffered to take it, and never would. 

There was nothing in the letter that irritated her, but she saw in it anattempt to open a correspondence. She wrote back:

"If you really repent your crimes, and have any true pity for the poorcreature whose happiness you have wrecked, show it by leaving thisplace, and ceasing all communication with her. "

This galled Coventry, and he wrote back:

"What! leave the coast clear to Mr. Little? No, Mrs. Coventry; no. "

Grace made no reply, but a great terror seized her, and from that hourpreyed constantly on her mind--the fear that Coventry and Little wouldmeet, and the man she loved would do some rash act, and perhaps perishon the scaffold for it. 

This was the dominant sentiment of her distracted heart, when one day, at eleven A. M. , came a telegram from Liverpool:

"Just landed. Will be with you by four. 

"HENRY LITTLE. "

Jael found her shaking all over, with this telegram in her hand. 

"Thank God you are with me!" she gasped. "Let me see him once more, anddie. "

This was her first thought; but all that day she was never in the samemind for long together. She would burst out into joy that he was reallyalive, and she should see his face once more. Then she would cower withterror, and say she dared not look him in the face; she was not worthy. Then she would ask wildly, who was to tell him? What would become ofhim?

"It would break his heart, or destroy his reason. After all he had doneand suffered for her!"

Oh! why could she not die before he came? Seeing her dead body he wouldforgive her. She should tell him she loved him still, should always lovehim. She would withhold no comfort. Perhaps he would kill her, if so, Jael must manage so that he should not be taken up or tormented anymore, for such a wretch as she was. 

But I might as well try to dissect a storm, and write the gusts of atempest, as to describe all the waves of passion in that fluctuating andagonized heart: the feelings and the agitation of a life were crowdedinto those few hours, during which she awaited the lover she had lost. 

At last, Jael Dence, though she was also much agitated and perplexed, decided on a course of action. Just before four o'clock she took Graceupstairs and told her she might see him arrive, but she must not comedown until she was sent for. "I shall see him first, and tell him all;and, when he is fit to see you, I will let you know. "

Grace submitted, and even consented to lie down for half an hour. Shewas now, in truth, scarcely able to stand, being worn out with themental struggle. She lay passive, with Jael Dence's hand in hers. 

When she had lain so about an hour, she started up suddenly, and thenext moment a fly stopped at the door. Henry Little got out at the gate, and walked up the gravel to the house. 

Grace looked at him from behind the curtain, gazed at him tillhe disappeared, and then turned round, with seraphic joy on hercountenance. "My darling!" she murmured; "more beautiful than ever! Ohmisery! misery!"

One moment her heart was warm with rapture, the next it was cold withdespair. But the joy was blind love; the despair was reason. 

She waited, and waited, but no summons came. 

She could not deny herself the sound of his voice. She crept downthe stairs, and into her father's library, separated only by thinfolding-doors from the room where Henry Little was with Jael Dence. 

Meantime Jael Dence opened the door to Henry Little, and, putting herfingers to her lips, led him into the dining-room and shut the door. 

Now, as his suspicions were already excited, this reception alarmed himseriously. As soon as ever they were alone, he seized both Jael's hands, and, looking her full in the face, said:

"One word--is she alive?"

"She is. "

"Thank god! Bless the tongue that tells me that. My good Jael! my bestfriend!" And, with that, kissed her heartily on both cheeks. 

She received this embrace like a woman of wood; a faint color rose, butretired directly, and left her cheek as pale as before. 

He noticed her strange coldness, and his heart began to quake. 

"There is something the matter?" he whispered. 

"There is. "

"Something you don't like to tell me?"

"Like to tell you! I need all my courage, and you yours. "

"Say she is alive, once more. "

"She is alive, and not likely to die; but she does not care to live now. They told her you were dead; they told her you were false; appearanceswere such she had no chance not to be deceived. She held out for a longtime; but they got the better of her--her father is much to blame--sheis--married. "

"Married!"

"Yes!"

"Married!" He leaned, sick as death, against the mantel-piece, andgasped so terribly that Jael's fortitude gave way, and she began to cry. 

After a long time he got a word or two out in a broken voice. 

"The false--inconstant--wretch! Oh Heaven! what I have done and sufferedfor her--and now married!--married! And the earth doesn't swallow her, nor the thunder strike her! Curse her, curse her husband, curse herchildren! may her name be a by-word for shame and misery--"

"Hush! hush! or you will curse your own mad tongue. Hear all, before youjudge her. "

"I have heard all; she is a wife; she shall soon be a widow. Thought Iwas false! What business had she to think I was false? It is only falsehearts that suspect true ones. She thought me dead? Why? Because I wasout of sight. She heard there was a dead hand found in the river. Whydidn't she go and see it? Could all creation pass another hand off on mefor hers? No; for I loved her. She never loved me. "

"She loved you, and loves you still. When that dead hand was found, shefell swooning, and lay at death's door for you, and now she has stainedher hands with blood for you. She tried to kill her husband, the momentshe found you were alive and true, and he had made a fool of her. "

"TRIED to kill him! Why didn't she do it? I should not have failed atsuch work. I love her. "

"Blame me for that; I stopped her arm, and I am stronger than she is. Isay she is no more to blame than you. You have acted like a madman, andshe suffers for it. Why did you slip away at night like that, and nottell me?"

"I left letters to you and her, and other people besides. "

"Yes, left them, and hadn't the sense to post them. Why didn't you TELLme? Had ever any young man as faithful and true a friend in any youngwoman as you had in me? Many a man has saved a woman's life, but itisn't often that a woman fights for a man, and gets the upper hand: yetyou gave me nothing in return; not even your confidence. Look the truthin the face, my lad; all your trouble, and all hers, comes of yoursneaking out of Hillsborough in that daft way, without a word to me, thetrue friend, that was next door to you; which I nearly lost my life byyour fault; for, if you had told me, I should have seen you off, andso escaped a month's hospital, and other troubles that almost droveme crazy. Don't you abuse that poor young lady before me, or I sha'n'tspare you. She is more to be pitied than you are. Folk should look athome for the cause of their troubles; her misery, and yours, it is allowing to your own folly and ingratitude; ay, you may look; I mean what Isay--ingratitude. "

The attack was so sudden and powerful that Henry Little was staggeredand silenced; but an unexpected defender appeared on the scene; one ofthe folding-doors was torn open, and Grace darted in. 

"How dare you say it is his fault, poor ill-used angel! No, no, no, no, I am the only one to blame. I didn't love you as you deserved. I triedto die for you, and FAILED. I tried to kill that monster for you, andFAILED. I am too weak and silly; I shall only make you more unhapppy. Give me one kiss, my own darling, and then kill me out of the way. " Withthis she was over his knees and round his neck in a moment, weeping, andclutching him with a passionate despair that melted all his anger away, and soon his own tears tell on her like rain. 

"Ah, Grace! Grace!" he sobbed, "how could you? how could you?"

"Don't speak unkindly to her, " cried Jael, "or she won't be alive a day. She is worse off than you are; and so is he too. "

"You mock me; he is her husband. He can make her live with him. Hecan--" Here he broke out cursing and blaspheming, and called Gracea viper, and half thrust her away from him with horror, and his facefilled with jealous anguish: he looked like a man dying of poison. 

Then he rose to his feet, and said, with a sort of deadly calm, "Wherecan I find the man?"

"Not in this house, you may be sure, " said Jael; "nor in any house whereshe is. "

Henry sank into his seat again, and looked amazed. 

"Tell him all, " said Grace. "Don't let him think I do not love him atall. "

"I will, " said Jael. "Well, the wedding was at eleven; your letter cameat half-past twelve, and I took it her. Soon after that the villain cameto her, and she stabbed him directly with this stiletto. Look at it;there's his blood up on it; I kept it to show you. I caught her arm, orshe would have killed him, I believe. He lost so much blood, the doctorwould not let him be moved. Then she thought of you still, and would notpass a night under the same roof with him; at two o'clock she was on theway to Raby; but Mr. Coventry was too much of a man to stay in the houseand drive her out; so he went off next morning, and, as soon as sheheard that, she came home. She is wife and no wife, as the saying is, and how it is all to end Heaven only knows. "

"It will end the moment I meet the man; and that won't be long. "

"There! there!" cried Grace, "that is what I feared. Ah, Jael! Jael! whydid you hold my hand? They would not have hung ME. I told you so at thetime: I knew what I was about. "

"Jael, " said the young man, "of all the kind things you have done forme, that was the kindest. You saved my poor girl from worse trouble thanshe is now in. No, Grace; you shall not dirty your hand with such scumas that: it is my business, and mine only. "

In vain did Jael expostulate, and Grace implore. In vain did Jael assurehim that Coventry was in a worse position than himself, and try to makehim see that any rash act of his would make Grace even more miserablethan she was at present. He replied that he had no intention of runninghis neck into a halter; he should act warily, like the HillsboroughTrades, and strike his blow so cunningly that the criminal should neverknow whence it came. "I've been in a good school for homicide, " saidhe; "and I am an inventor. No man has ever played the executioner soingeniously as I will play it. Think of all this scoundrel has done tome: he owes me a dozen lives, and I'll take one. Man shall never detectme: God knows all, and will forgive me, I hope. If He doesn't, I can'thelp it. "

He kissed Grace again and again, and comforted her; said she was not toblame; honest people were no match for villains: if she had been twiceas simple, he would have forgiven her at sight of the stiletto; thatcleared her, in his mind, better than words. 

He was now soft and gentle as a lamb. He begged Jael's pardon humbly forleaving Hillsborough without telling her. He said he had gone up to herroom; but all was still; and he was a working man, and the sleep of aworking-woman was sacred to him--(he would have awakened a fine ladywithout ceremony). Be assured her he had left a note for her in his box, thanking and blessing her for all her goodness. He said that he hopedhe might yet live to prove by acts, and not by idle words, how deeply hefelt all she had done and suffered for him. 

Jael received these excuses in hard silence. "That is enough aboutme, " said she, coldly. "If you are grateful to me, show it by taking myadvice. Leave vengeance to Him who has said that vengeance is His. "

The man's whole manner changed directly, and he said doggedly:

"Well, I will be His instrument. "

"He will choose His own. "

"I'll lend my humble co-operation. "

"Oh, do not argue with him, " said Grace, piteously. "When did a man everyield to our arguments? Dearest, I can't argue: but I am full of misery, and full of fears. You see my love; you forgive my folly. Have pity onme; think of my condition: do not doom me to live in terror by night andday: have I not enough to endure, my own darling? There, promise me youwill do nothing rash to-night, and that you will come to me the firstthing to-morrow. Why, you have not seen your mother yet; she is at RabyHall. "

"My dear mother!" said he: "it would be a poor return for all your loveif I couldn't put off looking for that scum till I have taken you in myarms. "

And so Grace got a reprieve. 

They parted in deep sorrow, but almost as lovingly as ever, and Littlewent at once to Raby Hall, and Grace, exhausted by so many emotions, layhelpless on a couch in her own room all the rest of the day. 

For some time she lay in utter prostration, and only the tears thattrickled at intervals down her pale cheeks showed that she was consciousof her miserable situation. 

Jael begged and coaxed her to take some nourishment: but she shook herhead with disgust at the very idea. 

For all that at nine o'clock, her faithful friend almost forced a fewspoonfuls of tea down her throat, feeding her like a child: and, whenshe had taken it, she tried to thank her, but choked in the middle, and, flinging her arm round Jael's neck, burst into a passion of weeping, and incoherent cries of love, and pity, and despair. "Oh, my darling! sogreat! so noble! so brave! so gentle! And I have destroyed us both! heforgave me as soon as he SAW me! So terrible, so gentle! What will bethe next calamity? Ah, Jael! save him from that rash act, and I shallnever complain; for he was dead, and is alive again. "

"We will find some way to do that between us--you, and I, and hismother. "

"Ah, yes: she will be on my side in that. But she will be hard upon me. She will point out all my faults, my execrable folly. Ah, if I could butlive my time over again, I'd pray night and day for selfishness. Theyteach us girls to pray for this and that virtue, which we have too muchof already; and what we ought to pray for is selfishness. But no! Imust think of my father, and think of that hypocrite: but the one personwhose feelings I was too mean, and base, and silly to consult, wasmyself. I always abhorred this marriage. I feared it, and loathed it;yet I yielded step by step, for want of a little selfishness; we areslaves without it--mean, pitiful, contemptible slaves. O God, in mercygive me selfishness! Ah me, it is too late now. I am a lost creature;nothing is left me but to die. "

Jael got her to bed, and sleep came at last to her exhausted body; but, even when her eyes were closed, tears found their way through the lids, and wetted her pillow. 

So can great hearts and loving natures suffer. 

Can they enjoy in proportion?

Let us hope so. But I have my doubts. 

Henry Little kept his word, and came early next morning. He lookedhopeful and excited: he said he had thought the matter over, and wasquite content to let that scoundrel live, and even to dismiss allthought of him, if Grace really loved him. 

"If I love you!" said Grace. "Oh, Henry, why did I ask you to do nothingrash, but that I love you? Why did I attempt his life myself? becauseyou said in your letter--It was not to revenge myself, but to save youfrom more calamity. Cruel, cruel! Do I love him?"

"I know you love me, Grace: but do you love me enough? Will you give upthe world for me, and let us be happy together, the only way we can? Mydarling Grace, I have made our fortune; all the world lies before us; Ileft England alone, for you; now leave it with me, and let us roam theworld together. "

"Henry!--what!--when I can not be your wife!"

"You can be my wife; my wife in reality, as you are his in nameand nothing else. It is idle to talk as if we were in some ordinarysituation. There are plenty of countries that would disown such amarriage as yours, a mere ceremony obtained by fraud, and canceled bya stroke with a dagger and instant separation. Oh, my darling, don'tsacrifice both our lives to a scruple that is out of place here. Don'thesitate; don't delay. I have a carriage waiting outside; end all ourmisery by one act of courage, and trust yourself to me; did I ever failyou?"

"For shame, Henry! for shame!"

"It is the only way to happiness. You were quite right; if I kill thatwretch we shall be parted in another way, always parted; now we can betogether for life. Remember, dearest, how I begged you in this very roomto go to the United States with me: you refused: well, have you neverbeen sorry you refused? Now I once more implore you to be wise andbrave, and love me as I love you. What is the world to us? You are allthe world to me. "

"Answer him, Jael; oh, answer him!"

"Nay, these are things every woman must answer for herself. "

"And I'll take no answer but yours. " Then he threw himself at her feet, and clasping her in his arms implored her, with all the sighs and tearsand eloquence of passion, to have pity on them both, and fly at oncewith him. 

She writhed and struggled faintly, and turned away from him, and felltenderly toward him, by turns, and still he held her tight, and grewstronger, more passionate, more persuasive, as she got weaker andalmost faint. Her body seemed on the point of sinking, and her mind ofyielding. 

But all of a sudden she made a desperate effort. "Let me go!" she cried. "So this is your love! With all my faults and follies, I am truer thanyou. Shame on your love, that would dishonor the creature you love! Letme go, sir, I say, or I shall hate you worse than I do the wretch whosename I bear. "

He let her go directly, and then her fiery glance turned to one longlingering look of deep but tender reproach, and she fled sobbing. 

He sank into a chair, and buried his face in his hands. 

After a while he raised his head, and saw Jael Dence looking gravely athim. 

"Oh, speak your mind, " said he, bitterly. 

"You are like the world. You think only of yourself; that's all I haveto say. "

"You are very unkind to say so. I think for us both: and she will thinkwith me, in time. I shall come again to-morrow. "

He said this with an iron resolution that promised a long and steadystruggle, to which Grace, even in this first encounter, had shownherself hardly equal. 

Jael went to her room, expecting to find her as much broken down as shewas by Henry's first visit; but, instead of that, the young lady waswalking rapidly to and fro. 

At sight of Jael, she caught her by the hand, and said, "Well!"

"He is coming again to-morrow. "

"Is he sorry?"

"Not he. "

"Who would have thought he was so wicked?"

This seemed rather exaggerated to Jael; for with all Mrs. Little'steaching she was not quite a lady yet in all respects, though in manythings she was always one by nature. "Let it pass, " said she. 

 "'It is a man's part to try, And a woman's to deny. '"

"And how often shall I have to deny him I love so dearly?"

"As often as he asks you to be his mistress; for, call it what you like, that is all he has to offer you. "

Grace hid her face in her hands. 

Jael colored. "Excuse my blunt speaking; but sometimes the worst word isthe best; fine words are just words with a veil on. "

"Will he dare to tempt me again, after what I said?"

"Of course he will: don't you know him? he never gives in. But, supposehe does, you have your answer ready. "

"Jael, " said Grace, "you are so strong, it blinds you to my weakness. I resist him, day after day! I, who pity him so, and blame myself! Why, his very look, his touch, his voice, overpower me so that my whole frameseems dissolving: feel how I tremble at him, even now. No, no; let thoseresist who are sure of their strength. Virtue, weakened by love andpity, has but one resource--to fly. Jael Dence, if you are a woman, helpme to save the one thing I have got left to save. "

"I will, " said Jael Dence. 

In one hour from that time they had packed a box and a carpetbag, andwere on their way to a railway station. They left Hillsborough. 

In three days Jael returned, but Grace Coventry did not come back withher. 

The day after that trying scene, Henry Little called, not to urge Graceagain, as she presumed he would, but to ask pardon: at the same time wemay be sure of this--that, after a day or two spent in obtaining pardon, the temptation would have been renewed, and so on forever. Of this, however, Little was not conscious: he came to ask pardon, and offer apure and patient love, till such time as Heaven should have pity on themboth. He was informed that Mrs. Coventry had quitted Hillsborough, andleft a letter for him. It was offered him; he snatched it and read it. 

"MY OWN DEAR HENRY, --You have given me something to forgive, and Iforgive you without asking, as I hope you will one day forgive me. Ihave left Hillsborough to avoid a situation that was intolerable andsolicitations which I blushed to hear, and for which you would one dayhave blushed too. This parting is not forever, I hope; but thatrests with yourself. Forego your idea of vengeance on that man, whosechastisement you would best alleviate by ending his miserable existence;and learn to love me honorably and patiently, as I love you. Shouldyou obtain this great victory over yourself, you will see me again. Meantime, think of her who loves you to distraction, and whose soulhovers about you unseen. Pray for me, dear one, at midnight, and ateight o'clock every morning; for those are two of the hours I shall prayfor you. Do you remember the old church, and how you cried over me? Ican write no more: my tears blind me so. Farewell. Your unhappy

"GRACE. "

Little read this piteous letter, and it was a heavy blow to him; a blowthat all the tenderness shown in it could not at first soften. She hadfled from him; she shunned him. It was not from Coventry she fled; itwas from him. 

He went home cold and sick at heart, and gave himself up to grief anddeep regrets for several days. 

But soon his powerful and elastic mind, impatient of impotent sorrow, and burning for some kind of action, seized upon vengeance as the onlything left to do. 

At this period he looked on Coventry as a beast in human shape, whom hehad a moral right to extinguish; only, as he had not a legal right, itmust be done with consummate art. He trusted nobody; spoke to nobody;but set himself quietly to find out where Coventry lived, and what werehis habits. He did this with little difficulty. Coventry lodged in aprincipal street, but always dined at a club, and returned home late, walking through a retired street or two; one of these passed by themouth of a narrow court that was little used. 

Little, disguised as a workman, made a complete reconnaissance of thislocality, and soon saw that his enemy was at his mercy. 

But, while he debated within himself what measure of vengeance he shouldtake, and what noiseless weapon he should use, an unseen antagonistbaffled him. That antagonist was Grace Carden. Still forebodingmischief, she wrote to Mr. Coventry, from a town two hundred milesdistant:

"Whatever you are now, you were born a gentleman, and will, I think, respect a request from a lady you have wronged. Mr. Little has returned, and I have left Hillsborough; if he encounters you in his despair, hewill do you some mortal injury. This will only make matters worse, and Idread the scandal that will follow, and to hear my sad story in a courtof law as a justification for his violence. Oblige me, then, by leavingHillsborough for a time, as I have done. "

On receipt of this, Coventry packed up his portmanteau directly, and, leaving Lally behind to watch the town, and see whether this was a ruse, he went directly to the town whence Grace's letter was dated, and to thevery hotel. 

This she had foreseen and intended. 

He found she had been there, and had left for a neighboringwatering-place: he followed her thither, and there she withdrew theclew; she left word she was gone to Stirling; but doubled on him, and soon put hundreds of miles between them. He remained in Scotland, hunting her. 

Thus she played the gray plover with him she hated, and kept the belovedhands from crime. 

When Little found that Coventry had left Hillsborough, he pretended tohimself that he was glad of it. "My darling is right, " said he. "I willobey her, and do nothing contrary to law. I will throw him into prison, that is all. " With these moderated views, he called upon his friendRansome, whom of course he had, as yet, carefully avoided, to ask hisaid in collecting the materials for an indictment. He felt sure thatCoventry had earned penal servitude, if the facts could only be put inevidence. He found Ransome in low spirits, and that excellent publicservant being informed what he was wanted for, said dryly, "Well, butthis will require some ability: don't you think your friend Silly Billywould be more likely to do it effectually than John Ransome?"

"Why, Ransome, are you mad?"

"No, I merely do myself justice. Silly Billy smelt that faultygrindstone; and I can't smell a rat a yard from my nose, it seems. Youshall judge for yourself. There have been several burglaries in thistown of late, and planned by a master. This put me on my mettle, andI have done all I could, with my small force, and even pryed about inperson, night after night, and that is not exactly my business, but Ifelt it my duty. Well, sir, two nights ago, no more, I had the luck tocome round a corner right upon a job: Alderman Dick's house, full ofvaluables, and the windows well guarded; but one of his cellars is onlycovered with a heavy wooden shutter, bolted within. I found this open, and a board wedged in, to keep it ajar: down I went on my knees, saw alight inside, and heard two words of thieves' latin; that was enough, you know; I whipped out the board, jumped on the heavy shutter, andcalled for the police. "

"Did you expect them to come?"

"Not much. These jobs are timed so as not to secure the attendanceof the police. But assistance of another kind came; a gentleman fulldressed, in a white tie and gloves, ran up, and asked me what itwas. 'Thieves in the cellar, ' said I, and shouted police, and gave mywhistle. The gentleman jumped on the shutter. 'I can keep that down, 'said he. 'I'm sure I saw two policemen in acorn Street: run quick!' andhe showed me his sword-cane, and seemed so hearty in it, and confident, I ran round the corner, and gave my whistle. Two policemen came up; but, in that moment, the swell accomplice had pulled all his pals out ofthe cellar, and all I saw of the lot, when I came back, was the swell'sswallow-tail coat flying like the wind toward a back slum, where I andmy bobbies should have been knocked on the head, if we had tried tofollow him; but indeed he was too fleet to give us the chance. "

"Well, " said Henry, "that was provoking: but who can foresee every thingall in a moment? I have been worse duped than that a good many times. "

Ransome shook his head. "An old officer of police, like me, not to smella swell accomplice. I had only to handcuff that man, and set him downwith me on the shutter, till, in the dispensation of Providence, a bobbycame by. "

He added by way of corollary, "You should send to London for adetective. "

"Not I, " said Henry. "I know you for a sagacious man, and a worthy man, and my friend. I'll have no one to help me in it but you. "

"Won't you?" said Ransome. "Then I'll go in. You have done me good, Mr. Little, by sticking to a defeated friend like this. Now for your case;tell me all you know, and how you know it. "

Henry complied, and Ransome took his notes. Then he said, he had gotsome old memoranda by him, that might prove valuable: he would call intwo days. 

He did call, and showed Henry Coventry's card, and told him hehad picked it up close by his letter-box, on the very night of theexplosion. "Mark my words, this will expand into something, " said theexperienced officer. 

Before he left, he told Henry that he had now every reason tobelieve the swell accomplice was Shifty Dick, the most successful anddistinguished criminal in England. "I have just got word from Londonthat he has been working here, and has collared a heavy swag; he sayshe will go into trade: one of his old pals let that out in jail. Trade!then heaven help his customers, that is all. "

"You may catch him yet. "

"When I catch Jack-a-lantern. He is not so green as to stay a day inHillsborough, now his face has been close to mine; they all know Inever forget a face. No, no; I shall never see him again, till I amtelegraphed for, to inspect his mug and his wild-cat eyes in some jailor other. I must try and not think of him; it disturbs my mind, andtakes off my attention from my duties. "

Ransome adhered to this resolution for more than a month, during whichtime he followed out every indication with the patience of a beagle;and, at last, he called one day and told Little Hill had forfeited hisbail, and gone to Canada at the expense of the trade; but had letout strange things before he left. There was a swell concerned in hisattempt with the bow and arrow: there was a swell concerned in theexplosion, with some workman, whose name he concealed; he had seen themon the bridge, and had seen the workman receive a bag of gold, and hadcollared him, and demanded his share; this had been given him, but notuntil he threatened to call the bobbies. "Now, if we could find Hill, and get him to turn Queen's evidence, this, coupled with what you andI could furnish, would secure your man ten years of penal servitude. Iknow an able officer at Quebec. Is it worth while going to the expense?"

Little, who had received the whole communication in a sort ofdespondent, apathetic way, replied that he didn't think it was worthwhile. "My good friend, " said he, "I am miserable. Vengeance, I find, will not fill a yearning heart. And the truth is, that all this time Ihave been secretly hoping she would return, and that has enabled me tobear up, and chatter about revenge. Who could believe a young creaturelike that would leave her father and all her friends for good? I madesure she would come back in a week or two. And to think that it is I whohave driven her away, and darkened my own life. I thought I had soundedthe depths of misery. I was a fool to think so. No, no; life would beendurable if I could only see her face once a day, and hear her voice, though it was not even speaking to me. Oh! oh!"

Now this was the first time Little had broken down before Ransome. Hitherto he had spoken of Coventry, but not of Grace; he had avoidedspeaking of her, partly from manly delicacy, partly because he foresawhis fortitude would give way if he mentioned her. 

But now the strong man's breast seemed as if it would burst, and hisgasping breath, and restless body, betrayed what a price he must havepaid for the dogged fortitude he had displayed for several weeks, love-sick all the time. 

Ransome was affected: he rose and walked about the room, ashamed to lookat a Spartan broken down. 

When he had given Little time to recover some little composure, he said, "Mr. Little, you were always too much of a gentleman to gossip about thelady you love; and it was not my business to intrude upon that subject;it was too delicate. But, of course, with what I have picked up hereand there, and what you have let drop, without the least intending it, Iknow pretty well how the land lies. And, sir, a man does not come to mytime of life without a sore and heavy heart; if I was to tell you how Icame to be a bachelor--but, no; even after ten years I could not answerfor myself. All I can say is that, if you should do me the honor toconsult me on something that is nearer your heart than revenge, youwould have all my sympathy and all my zeal. "

"Give me your hand, old fellow, " said Little, and broke down again. 

But, this time, he shook it off quickly, and, to encourage him, Mr. Ransome said, "To begin, you may take my word Mr. Carden knows, by thistime, where his daughter is. Why not sound him on the matter?"

Henry acted on this advice, and called on Mr. Carden. 

He was received very coldly by that gentleman. 

After some hesitation, he asked Mr. Carden if he had any news of hisdaughter. 

"I have. "

The young man's face was irradiated with joy directly. 

"Is she well, sir?"

"Yes. "

"Is she happier than she was?"

"She is content. "

"Has she friends about her? Kind, good people; any persons of her ownsex, whom she can love?"

"She is among people she takes for angels, at present. She will findthem to be petty, mean, malicious devils. She is in a Protestantconvent. "

"In a convent? Where?"

"Where? Where neither the fool nor the villain, who have wrecked herhappiness between them, and robbed me of her, will ever find her. Iexpected this visit, sir; the only thing I doubted was which would comefirst, the villain or the fool. The fool has come first, and being afool, expects ME to tell him where to find his victim, and tortureher again. Begone, fool, from the house you have made desolate by yourexecrable folly in slipping away by night like a thief, or rather likethat far more dangerous animal, a fool. "

The old man delivered these insults with a purple face, and a loud fury, that in former days would have awakened corresponding rage in the fieryyoung fellow. But affliction had tempered him, and his insulter's hairswere gray. 

He said, quietly, "You are her father. I forgive you these cruel words. "Then he took his hat and went away. 

Mr. Carden followed him to the passage, and cried after him, "Thevillain will meet a worse reception than the fool. I promise you thatmuch. "

Little went home despondent, and found a long letter from his mother, telling him he must dine and sleep at Raby Hall that day. 

She gave him such potent reasons, and showed him so plainly his refusalwould infuriate his uncle, and make her miserable, that he had nochoice. He packed up his dress suit, and drove to Raby Hall, with aheavy heart and bitter reluctance. 

O caeca mens hominum. 

CHAPTER XLI. 

It was the great anniversary. On that day Sir Richard Raby had lost forthe Stuarts all the head he possessed. His faithful descendent seizedthe present opportunity to celebrate the event with more pomp than ever. A month before the fatal day he came in from Hillsborough with sixtyyards of violet-colored velvet, the richest that could be got fromLyons; he put this down on a table, and told his sister that was for herand Jael to wear on the coming anniversary. "Don't tell me there's notenough, " said he; "for I inquired how much it would take to carpet twosmall rooms, and bought it; now what will carpet two little librarieswill clothe two large ladies; and you are neither of you shrimps. "

While he was thus doing the cynical, nobody heeded him; quick andskillful fingers were undoing the parcel, and the ladies' cheeks flushedand their eyes glistened, and their fingers felt the stuff inside andout: in which occupation Raby left them, saying, "Full dress, mind! WeRabys are not beheaded every day. "

Mrs. Little undertook to cut both dresses, and Jael was to help sewthem. 

But, when they came to be tried on, Jael was dismayed. "Why, I shall behalf naked, " said she. "Oh, Mrs. Little, I couldn't: I should sink withshame. "

Mrs. Little pooh-poohed that, and an amusing dialogue followed betweenthese two women, both of them equally modest, but one hardened, andperhaps a little blinded, by custom. 

Neither could convince the other, but Mrs. Little overpowered Jael bysaying, "I shall wear mine low, and you will mortally offend my brotherif you don't. "

Then Jael succumbed, but looked forward to the day with a simpleterror one would hardly have expected from the general strength of hercharacter. 

Little arrived, and saw his mother for a minute or two before dinner. She seemed happy and excited, and said, "Cheer up, darling; we will finda way to make you happy. Mark my words, a new era in your life datesfrom to-day: I mean to open your eyes tonight. There, don't question me, but give me one kiss, and let us go and make ourselves splendid for poorSir Richard. "

When Little came down-stairs he found his uncle and adistinguished-looking young gentleman standing before the fire; bothwere in full dress. Raby had the Stuart orders on his breast and lookeda prince. He introduced Little to Mr. Richard Raby with high formality;but, before they had time to make acquaintance, two ladies glided intothe room, and literally dazzled the young men, especially DissoluteDick, who knew neither of them. 

Mrs. Little, with her oval face, black brow and hair, and statelybut supple form, was a picture of matronly beauty and grace; her richbrunette skin, still glossy and firm, showed no signs of age, but underher glorious eyes were the marks of trouble; and though her face wasstill striking and lovely, yet it revealed what her personconcealed, that she was no longer young. That night she looked abouteight-and-thirty. 

The other lady was blonde, and had a face less perfect in contour, butbeautiful in its way, and exquisite in color and peach-like bloom; butthe marvel was her form; her comely head, dignified on this occasionwith a coronet of pearls, perched on a throat long yet white andmassive, and smooth as alabaster; and that majestic throat sat enthronedon a snowy bust and shoulders of magnificent breadth, depth, grandeur, and beauty. Altogether it approached the gigantic; but so lovely was theswell of the broad white bosom, and so exquisite the white and polishedskin of the mighty shoulders adorned with two deep dimples, that the awethis grand physique excited was mingled with profound admiration. 

Raby and Henry Little both started at the sudden grandeur and brillianceof the woman they thought they knew, but in reality had never seen; andRaby, dazzled himself, presented her, quite respectfully, to DissoluteDick. 

"This is Miss Dence, a lady descended, like the rest of us, from poorSir Richard; Miss Dence; Mr. Richard Raby. "

Jael blushed more deeply than ladies with white and antique busts are inthe habit of doing, and it was curious to see the rosy tint come on herwhite neck, and then die quietly away again. Yet she courtesied withgrace and composure. (Mrs. Little had trained her at all points; andgrace comes pretty readily, where nature has given perfect symmetry. )

Dinner was announced, and Raby placed the Dissolute between his sisterand the magnificent Beauty dead Sir Richard had developed. He even gavea reason for this arrangement. 

"All you ladies like a rake: you PRAISE sober fellows like me; but whatyou PREFER is a Rake. "

As they were rustling into their places, Mrs. Little said to Dick, witha delicious air of indifference, "ARE you a rake, Mr. Raby?"

"I am anything you like, " replied the shameless fellow. 

All the old plate was out, and blazing in the light of candlesinnumerable. 

There was one vacant chair. 

Dick asked if there was anybody expected. 

"Not much, " said Raby dryly. "That is Sir Richard's chair, on theseoccasions. However, he may be sitting in it now, for aught I know. Isincerely hope he is. "

"If I thought that, I'd soon leave mine, " said Jael, in a tremulouswhisper. 

"Then stay where you are, Sir Richard, " said the Rake, making anaffected motion with his handkerchief, as if to keep the good Knightdown. 

In short, this personage, being young, audacious, witty, and animatedby the vicinity of the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, soondeprived the anniversary of that solemn character Mr. Raby desired togive it. Yet his volubility, his gayety, and his chaff were combinedwith a certain gentlemanlike tact and dexterity; and he made Raby laughin spite of himself, and often made the ladies smile. But Henry Littlesat opposite, and wondered at them all, and his sad heart became verybitter. 

When they joined the ladies in the drawing-room, Henry made an effort tospeak to Jael Dence. He was most anxious to know whether she had heardfrom Grace Carden. But Jael did not meet him very promptly, and whilehe was faltering out his inquiries, up came Richard Raby and resumed hisattentions to her--attentions that very soon took the form of downrightlove-making. In fact he stayed an hour after his carriage was announced, and being a young man of great resolution, and accustomed to pleasehimself, he fell over head and ears in love with Miss Dence, and showedit then and thereafter. 

It did not disturb her composure. She had often been made love to, andcould parry as well as Dick could fence. 

She behaved with admirable good sense; treated it all as a polite jest, but not a disagreeable one. 

Mrs. Little lost patience with them both. She drew Henry aside, andasked him why he allowed Mr. Richard Raby to monopolize her. 

"How can I help it?" said Henry. "He is in love with her; and no wonder:see how beautiful she is, and her skin like white satin. She is everso much bigger than I thought. But her heart is bigger than all. Who'dthink she had ever condescended to grind saws with me?"

"Who indeed? And with those superb arms!"

"Why, that is it, mother; they are up to anything; it was one of thosesuperb arms she flung round a blackguard's neck for me, and threw himlike a sack, or I should not be here. Poor girl! Do you think thatchatterbox would make her happy?"

"Heaven forbid! He is not worthy of her. No man is worthy of her, exceptthe one I mean her to have, and that is yourself. "

"Me, mother! are you mad?"

"No; you are mad, if you reject her. Where can you hope to find herequal? In what does she fail? In face? why it is comeliness, goodness, and modesty personified. In person? why she is the only perfect figure Iever saw. Such an arm, hand, foot, neck, and bust I never saw all in thesame woman. Is it sense? why she is wise beyond her years, and beyondher sex. Think of her great self-denial; she always loved you, yetaided you, and advised you to get that mad young thing you preferred toher--men are so blind in choosing women! Then think of her saving yourlife: and then how nearly she lost her own, through her love for you. Oh, Henry, if you cling to a married woman, and still turn away fromthat angelic creature there, and disappoint your poor mother again, whose life has been one long disappointment, I shall begin to fear youwere born without a heart. "

CHAPTER XLII. 

"Better for me if I had; then I could chop and change from one toanother as you would have me. No, mother; I dare say if I had never seenGrace I should have loved Jael. As it is, I have a great affection andrespect for her, but that is all. "

"And those would ripen into love if once you were married. "

"They might. If it came to her flinging that great arm round my neck inkindness she once saved my life with by brute force, I suppose a man'sheart could not resist her. But it will never come to that while mydarling lives. She is my lover, and Jael my sister and my dear friend. God bless her, and may she be as happy as she deserves. I wish I couldget a word with her, but that seems out of the question to-night. Ishall slip away to bed and my own sad thoughts. "

With this he retired unobserved. 

In the morning he asked Jael if she would speak to him alone. 

"Why not?" said she calmly. 

They took a walk in the shrubbery. 

"I tried hard to get a word with you yesterday, but you were so taken upwith that puppy. "

"He is very good company. "

"I have seen the time when I was as good; but it is not so easy tochatter with a broken heart. "

"That is true. Please come to the point, and tell me what you want of menow. "

This was said in such a curious tone, that Henry felt quite discouraged. 

He hesitated a moment and then said, "What is the matter with you?You are a changed girl to me. There's something about you so cold andsevere; it makes me fear I have worn out my friend as well as lost mylove; if it is so, tell me, and I will not intrude my sorrow any more onyou. "

There was a noble and manly sadness in the way he said this, and Jaelseemed touched a little by it. 

"Mr. Henry, " said she, "I'll be frank with you. I can't forgive youleaving the factory that night without saying a word to me; and if youconsider what I had done before you used me so, and what I sufferedin consequence of your using me so--not that you will ever know all Isuffered, at least I hope not--no, I have tried to forgive you; for, ifyou are a sinner, you are a sufferer--but it is no use, I can't. I nevershall forgive you to my dying day. "

Henry Little hung his head dejectedly. "That is bad news, " he faltered. "I told you why I did not bid you good-by except by letter: it was outof kindness. I have begged your pardon for it all the same. I thoughtyou were an angel; but I see you are only a woman; you think the time tohit a man is when he is down. Well, I can but submit. Good-by. Stay onemoment, let me take your hand, you won't refuse me that. " She did notdeign a word; he took her hand and held it. "This is the hand and armthat worked with me like a good master: this is the hand and arm thatoverpowered a blackguard and saved me: this is the hand and arm thatsaved my Grace from a prison and public shame. I must give them both onekiss, if they knock me down for it. There--there--good-by, dear Jael, good-by! I seem to be letting go the last thing I have to cling to inthe deep waters of trouble. "

Melted by this sad thought, he held his best friend's hand till a warmtear dropped on it. That softened her; the hand to which he owed so muchclosed on his and detained him. 

"Stay where you are. I have told you my mind, but I shall ACT just as Iused to do. I'm not proud of this spite I have taken against you, don'tyou fancy that. There--there, don't let us fret about what can't behelped; but just tell me what I can DO for you. "

Young Little felt rather humiliated at assistance being offered on theseterms. He did not disguise his mortification. 

"Well, " said he, rather sullenly, "beggars must not be choosers. Ofcourse I wanted you to tell me where I am likely to find her. "

"I don't know. "

"But you left Hillsborough with her?"

"Yes, and went to York. But there I left her, and she told me she shouldtravel hundreds of miles from York. I have no notion where she is. "

Little sighed. "She could not trust even you. "

"The fewer one trusts with a secret the better. "

"Will she never return? Will she give up her father as well as me? Didshe fix no time? Did she give you no hint?"

"No, not that I remember. She said that depended on you. "

"On me?"

"Yes. "

Here was an enigma. 

They puzzled over it a long time. At last Jael said, "She wrote a letterto you before she left: did she say nothing in that? Have you got theletter?"

"Have I got it?--the last letter my darling ever wrote to me! Do youthink it ever leaves me night or day?"

He undid one of his studs, put his hand inside, and drew the letterout warm from his breast. He kissed it and gave it to Jael. She readit carefully and looked surprised. "Why, you are making your owndifficulties. You have only got to do what you are told. Promise notto fall foul of that Coventry, and not to tempt her again, and you willhear of her. You have her own word for it. "

"But how am I to let her know I promise?"

"I don't know; how does everybody let everybody know things nowadays?They advertise. "

"Of course they do--in the second column of 'The Times. '"

"You know best. " Then, after a moment's reflection, "Wherever she is, she takes in the Hillsborough papers to see if there's anything aboutyou in them. "

"Oh, do you think so?"

"Think so? I am sure of it. I put myself in her place. "

"Then I will advertise in 'The Times' and the Hillsborough papers. "

He went into the library and wrote several advertisements. This is theone Jael preferred:

"H. L. To G. C. I see you are right. There shall be no vengeance exceptwhat the law may give me, nor will I ever renew that request whichoffended you so justly. I will be patient. "

He had added an entreaty that she would communicate with him, but thisJael made him strike out. She thought that might make Grace suspect hissincerity. "Time enough to put that in a month hence, if you don't hearfrom her. "

This was all I think worth recording in the interview between Jael andHenry, except that at parting he thanked her warmly, and said, "May Igive you one piece of advice in return? Mr. Richard Raby has fallen inlove with you, and no wonder. If my heart was not full of Grace I shouldhave fallen in love with you myself, you are so good and so beautiful;but he bears a bad character. You are wise in other people's affairs, pray don't be foolish in your own. "

"Thank you, " said Jael, a little dryly. "I shall think twice before Igive my affections to any young man. "

Henry had a word with his mother before he went, and begged her notto prepare disappointment for herself by trying to bring Jael and himtogether. "Besides, she has taken a spite against me. To be sure it isnot very deep; for she gave me good advice; and I advised her not tothrow herself away on Dissolute Dick. "

Mrs. Little smiled knowingly and looked very much pleased, but she saidnothing more just then. Henry Little returned to Hillsborough, and puthis advertisement in "The Times" and the Hillsborough journals. 

Two days afterward Ransome called on him with the "HillsboroughLiberal. " "Is this yours?" said Ransome. 

"Yes. I have reason to think she will write to me, if she sees it. "

"Would you mind giving me your reason?"

Little gave it, but with so much reticence, that no other man inHillsborough but Ransome would have understood. 

"Hum!" said he, "I think I can do something with this. " A period ofexpectation succeeded, hopeful at first, and full of excitement; butweeks rolled on without a word from the fugitive, and Little's heartsickened with hope deferred. He often wished to consult Jael Denceagain; he had a superstitious belief in her sagacity. But therecollection of her cold manner deterred him. At last, however, impatience and the sense of desolation conquered, and he rode over toRaby Hall. 

He found his uncle and his mother in the dining-room. Mr. Raby waswalking about looking vexed, and even irritable. 

The cause soon transpired. Dissolute Dick was at that moment in thedrawing-room, making hot love to Jael Dence. He had wooed her ever sincethat fatal evening when she burst on society full-blown. Raby, tooproud and generous to forbid his addresses, had nevertheless been alwaysbitterly averse to them, and was now in a downright rage; for Mrs. Little had just told him she felt sure he was actually proposing. 

"Confound him!" said Henry, "and I wanted so to speak to her. "

Raby gave him a most singular look, that struck him as odd at the time, and recurred to him afterward. 

At last steps were heard overhead, and Dissolute Dick came down-stairs. 

Mrs. Little slipped out, and soon after put her head into thedining-room to the gentlemen, and whispered to them "YES. " Then sheretired to talk it all over with Jael. 

At that monosyllable Mr. Raby was very much discomposed. 

"There goes a friend out of this house; more fools we. You have lost herby your confounded folly. What is the use spooning all your days afteranother man's wife? I wouldn't have had this happen for ten thousandpounds. Dissolute Dick! he will break her heart in a twelvemouth. "

"Then why, in heaven's name, didn't you marry her yourself?"

"Me! at my age? No; why didn't YOU marry her? You know she fancies you. The moment you found Grace married, you ought to have secured this girl, and lived with me; the house is big enough for you all. "

"It is not so big as your heart, sir, " said Henry. "But pray don't speakto me of love or marriage either. "

"Why should I? The milk is spilt; it is no use crying now. Let us go anddress for dinner. Curse the world--it is one disappointment. "

Little himself was vexed, but he determined to put a good face on it, and to be very kind to his good friend Jael. 

She did not appear at dinner, and when the servants had retired, hesaid, "Come now, let us make the best of it. Mother, if you don't mind, I will settle five thousand pounds upon her and her children. He is aspendthrift, I hear, and as poor as Job. "

Mrs. Little stared at her son. "Why, she has refused him!"

Loud exclamations of surprise and satisfaction. 

"A fine fright you have given us. You said 'Yes. '"

"Well, that meant he had proposed. You know, Guy, I had told you hewould: I saw it in his eye. So I observed, in a moment, he HAD, and Isaid 'Yes. '"

"Then why doesn't she come down to dinner?"

"He has upset her. It is the old story: he cried to her, and told her hehad been wild, and misconducted himself, all because he had never meta woman he could really love and respect; and then he begged her, andimplored her, and said his fate depended on her. "

"But she was not caught with that chaff; so why does she not come andreceive the congratulations of the company on her escape?"

"Because she is far too delicate;" then, turning to her son, "andperhaps, because she can't help comparing the manly warmth and lovingappreciation of Mr. Richard Raby, with the cold indifference andingratitude of others. "

"Oh, " said Henry, coloring, "if that is her feeling, she will accept himnext time. "

"Next time!" roared Raby. "There shall be no next time. I have given thescamp fair play, quite against my own judgment. He has got his answernow, and I won't have the girl tormented with him any more. I trust thatto you, Edith. "

Mrs. Little promised him Dick and Jael should not meet again, in RabyHall at least. 

That evening she drew her son apart and made an earnest appeal to him. 

"So much for her spite against you, Henry. You told her to declineRichard Raby, and so she declined him. Spite, indeed! The gentle piqueof a lovely, good girl, who knows her value, though she is too modestto show it openly. Well, Henry, you have lost her a husband, and shehas given you one more proof of affection. Don't build the mountain ofingratitude any higher: do pray take the cure that offers, and makeyour mother happy, as well as yourself, my son. " In this strain shecontinued, and used all her art, her influence, her affection, till atlast, with a weary, heart-broken sigh, he yielded as far as this: hesaid that, if it could once be made clear to him there was no hope ofhis ever marrying Grace Carden he would wed Jael Dence at once. 

Then he ordered his trap, and drove sullenly home, while Mrs. Little, full of delight, communicated her triumph to Jael Dence, and told herabout the five thousand pounds, and was as enthusiastic in praise ofHenry to Jael, as she had been of Jael to Henry. 

Meantime he drove back to Hillsborough, more unhappy than ever, andbitter against himself for yielding, even so far, to gratitude andmaternal influence. 

It was late when he reached home. He let himself in with a latch-key, and went into his room for a moment. 

A letter lay on the table, with no stamp on it: he took it up. Itcontained but one line; that line made his heart leap:

"News of G. C. RANSOME. "

CHAPTER XLIII. 

Late as it was, Little went to the Town-hall directly. But there, to hisbitter disappointment, he learned that Mr. Ransome had been called toManchester by telegram. Little had nothing to do but to wait, and eathis heart with impatience. However, next day, toward afternoon, Ransomecalled on him at the works, in considerable excitement, and told hima new firm had rented large business premises in Manchester, obtainedgoods, insured them in the "Gosshawk, " and then the premises had caughtfire and the goods been burned to ashes; suspicions had been excited;Mr. Carden had gone to the spot and telegraphed for him. He had met aLondon detective there, and, between them, they had soon discovered thatfull cases had come in by day, but full sacks gone out by night: theashes also revealed no trace of certain goods the firm had insured. "Andnow comes the clew to it all. Amongst the few things that survived thefire was a photograph--of whom do you think? Shifty Dick. The dog hadkept his word, and gone into trade. "

"Confound him!" said Little; "he is always crossing my path, thatfellow. You seem quite to forget that all this time I am in agonies ofsuspense. What do I care about Shifty Dick? He is nothing to me. "

"Of course not. I am full of the fellow; a little more, and he'll make amonomaniac of me. Mr. Carden offers L200 for his capture; and we got aninkling he was coming this way again. There, there, I won't mention hisname to you again. Let us talk of what WILL interest you. Well, sir, have you observed that you are followed and watched?"

"No. "

"I am glad of it; then it has been done skillfully. You have beenclosely watched this month past by my orders. "

This made young Little feel queer. Suppose he had attempted anythingunlawful, his good friend here would have collared him. 

"You'll wonder that a good citizen like you should be put undersurveillance; but I thought it likely your advertisement would eithermake the lady write to you, or else draw her back to the town. Shedidn't write, so I had you watched, to see if any body took a sly peepat you. Well, this went on for weeks, and nothing turned up. But theother night a young woman walked several times by your house, and wentaway with a sigh. She had a sort of Protestant nun's dress on, and athick veil. Now you know Mr Carden told you she was gone into a convent. I am almost sure it is the lady. "

Little thanked him with all his soul, and then inquired eagerly wherethe nun lived. 

"Ah, my man didn't know that. Unfortunately, he was on duty in thestreet, and had no authority to follow anybody. However, if you can keepyourself calm, and obey orders--"

"I will do anything you tell me. "

"Well, then, this evening, as soon as it is quite dark, you do whatI have seen you do in happier times. Light your reading-lamp, and sitreading close to the window; only you must not pull down the blind. Lower the venetians, but don't turn them so as to hide your face fromthe outside. You must promise me faithfully not to move under anycircumstances, or you would be sure to spoil all. "

Little gave the promise, and performed it to the letter. He lightedhis lamp, and tried to read book after book; but, of course, he was tooagitated to fix his attention on them. He got all Grace's letters, andread them; and it was only by a stern effort he kept still at all. 

The night wore on, and heart-sickness was beginning to succeed tofeverish impatience, when there was a loud knock at the door. Littleran to it himself, and found a sergeant of police, who told him in a lowvoice he brought a message from the chief-constable. 

"I was to tell you it is all right; he is following the party himself. He will call on you at twelve to-morrow morning. "

"Not before that?" said Little. However, he gave the sergeant asovereign for good news, and then, taking his hat, walked twenty milesout of Hillsborough, and back, for he knew it was useless his going tobed, or trying to settle to any thing. 

He got back at ten o'clock, washed, breakfasted, and dozed on twochairs, till Ransome came, with a carpet-bag in his hand. 

"Tell me all about it: don't omit any thing. " This was Little'sgreeting. 

"Well, sir, she passed the house about nine o'clock, walking quickly;and took just one glance in at your window, but did not stop. She cameback in half an hour, and stood on the opposite side of the way, andthen passed on. I hid in a court, where she couldn't see me. By-and-byshe comes back, on your side the way this time, gliding like a cat, andshe crouched and curled round the angle of the house, and took a goodlook at you. Then she went slowly away, and I passed her. She was cryingbitterly, poor girl! I never lost sight of her, and she led me a dance, I can tell you. I'll take you to the place; but you had better let medisguise you; for I can see she is very timid, and would fly away in amoment if she knew she was detected. "

Little acquiesced, and Ransome disguised him in a beard and a loose setof clothes, and a billy-cock hat, and said that would do, as long as hekept at a prudent distance from the lady's eye. They then took a cab anddrove out of Hillsborough. When they had proceeded about two miles upthe valley, Ransome stopped the cab, and directed the driver to wait forthem. 

He then walked on, and soon came to a row of houses, in two blocks offour houses each. 

The last house of the first block had a bill in the window, "To be letfurnished. "

He then knocked at the door, and a woman in charge of the house openedit. 

"I am the chief-constable of Hillsborough; and this is my friend Mr. Park; he is looking out for a furnished house. Can he see this one?"

The woman said, "Certainly, gentlemen, " and showed them over the house. 

Ransome opened the second-story window, and looked out on the backgarden. 

"Ah, " said he, "these houses have nice long gardens in the rear, whereone can walk and be private. "

He then nudged Henry, and asked the woman who lived in the first houseof the next block--"the house that garden belongs to?"

"Why, the bill was in the window the other day; but it is just took. Sheis a kind of a nun, I suppose: keeps no servant: only a girl comes inand does for her, and goes home at night. I saw her yesterday, walkingin the garden there. She seems rather young to be all alone like that;but perhaps there's some more of 'em coming. They sort o' cattle mostlygoes in bands. "

Henry asked what was the rent of the house. The woman did not know, but told him the proprietor lived a few doors off. "I shall take thishouse, " said Little. "I think you are right, " observed Ransome: "itwill just answer your purpose. " They went together, and took the housedirectly; and Henry, by advice of Ransome, engaged a woman to come intothe house in the morning, and go away at dusk. Ransome also advised himto make arrangements for watching Grace's garden unseen. "That will bea great comfort to you, " said he: "I know by experience. Above allthings, " said this sagacious officer, "don't you let her know she isdiscovered. Remember this: when she wants you to know she is here, she'll be sure to let you know. At present she is here on the sly: so ifyou thwart her, she'll be off again, as sure as fate. "

Little was forced to see the truth of this, and promised to restrainhimself, hard as the task was. He took the house; and used to lethimself into it with a latch-key at about ten o clock every night. 

There he used to stay and watch till past noon; and nearly every day hewas rewarded by seeing the Protestant nun walk in her garden. 

He was restless and miserable till she came out; when she appeared hisheart bounded and thrilled; and when once he had feasted his eyes uponher, he would go about the vulgar affairs of life pretty contentedly. 

By advice of Ransome, he used to sit in his other house from seven tillnine, and read at the window, to afford his beloved a joy similar tothat he stole himself. 

And such is the power of true love that these furtive glances soothedtwo lives. Little's spirits revived, and some color came back to Grace'scheek. 

One night there was a house broken into in the row. 

Instantly Little took the alarm on Grace's account, and bought powderand bullets, and a double-barreled rifle, and a revolver; and now at theslightest sound he would be out of bed in a moment ready to defend her, if necessary. 

Thus they both kept their hearts above water, and Grace visited thesick, and employed her days in charity; and then, for a reward, crept, with soft foot, to Henry's window, and devoured him with her eyes, andfed on that look for hours afterward. 

When this had gone on for nearly a month, Lally, who had orders to keephis eye on Mr. Little, happened to come and see Grace looking in at him. 

He watched her at a distance, but had not the intelligence to follow herhome. He had no idea it was Grace Carden. 

However, in his next letter to his master, who was then in London, hetold him Little always read at night by the window, and, one night, akind of nun had come and taken a very long look at him, and gone awaycrying. "I suspect, " said Lally, "she has played the fool with him sometime or other, before she was a nun. "

He was not a little surprised when his master telegraphed in reply thathe would be down by the first train; but the fact is, that Coventryhad already called on Mr. Carden, and been told that his wife was in aconvent, and he would never see her again. I must add that Mr. Cardenreceived him as roughly as he had Little, but the interview terminateddifferently. Coventry, with his winning tongue, and penitence andplausibility, softened the indignant father, and then, appealing to hisgood sense, extorted from him the admission that his daughter's onlychance of happiness lay in forgiving him, and allowing him to atone hisfaults by a long life of humble devotion. But when Coventry, presumingon this, implored him to reveal where she was, the old man stood stanch, and said that was told him under a solemn assurance of secrecy, andnothing should induce him to deceive his daughter. "I will not lose herlove and confidence for any of you, " said he. 

So now Coventry put that word "convent" and this word "nun" together, and came to Hillsborough full of suspicions. 

He took lodgings nearly opposite Little's house, and watched in a darkroom so persistently, that, at last, he saw the nun appear, saw herstealthy, cat-like approaches, her affected retreat, her cunningadvance, her long lingering look. 

A close observer of women, he saw in every movement of her supple bodythat she was animated by love. 

He raged and sickened with jealousy, and when, at last, she retired, hefollowed her, with hell in his heart, and never lost sight of her tillshe entered her house in the valley. 

If there had been a house to let in the terrace, he would certainly havetaken it; but Little had anticipated him. 

He took a very humble lodging in the neighborhood; and by dint ofwatching, he at last saw the nun speaking to a poor woman with her veilup. It revealed to him nothing but what he knew already. It was thewoman he loved, and she hated him; the woman who had married him undera delusion, and stabbed him on his bridal day. He loved her all the morepassionately for that. 

Until he received Lally's note, he had been content to wait patientlyuntil his rival should lose hope, and carry himself and his affectionselsewhere; he felt sure that must be the end of it. 

But now jealousy stung him, wild passion became too strong for reason, and he resolved to play a bold and lawless game to possess his lawfulwife. Should it fail, what could they do to him? A man may take his ownby force. Not only his passions, but the circumstances tempted him. Shewas actually living alone, in a thinly-peopled district, and close to aroad. It was only to cover her head and stifle her cries, and fly withher to some place beforehand prepared, where she would be brought tosubmission by kindness of manner combined with firmness of purpose. 

Coventry possessed every qualification to carry out such a scheme asthis. He was not very courageous; yet he was not a coward: and no greatcourage was required. Cunning, forethought, and unscrupulousness werethe principal things, and these he had to perfection. 

He provided a place to keep her; it was a shooting-box of his own, on aheathery hill, that nobody visited except for shooting, and the seasonfor shooting was past. 

He armed himself with false certificates of lunacy, to show on anemergency, and also a copy of his marriage certificate: he knew howunwilling strangers are to interfere between man and wife. 

The only great difficulty was to get resolute men to help him in thisact. 

He sounded Cole; but that worthy objected to it, as being out of hisline. 

Coventry talked him over, and offered a sum that made him tremble withcupidity. He assented on one condition--that he should not be expectedto break into the house, nor do any act that should be "construedburglarious. " He actually used that phrase, which I should hardly haveexpected from him. 

Coventry assented to this condition. He undertook to get into the house, and open the door to Cole and his myrmidons: he stipulated, however, that Cole should make a short iron ladder with four sharp prongs. Bymeans of this he could enter Grace's house at a certain unguardedpart and then run down and unbar the front door. He had thoroughlyreconnoitered the premises, and was sure of success. 

First one day was appointed for the enterprise, then another, and, atlast, it was their luck to settle on a certain night, of which I willonly say at present, that it was a night Hillsborough and its suburbswill not soon forget. 

Midnight was the hour agreed on. 

Now at nine o'clock of this very night the chief-constable ofHillsborough was drinking tea with Little scarcely twenty yards from thescene of the proposed abduction. Not that either he or Little had theleast notion of the conspiracy. The fact is, Hillsborough had latelybeen deluged with false coin, neatly executed, and passed with greatdexterity. The police had received many complaints, but had been unableto trace it. Lately, however, an old bachelor, living in this suburbanvalley, had complained to the police that his neighbors kept suchenormous fires all night, as to make his wall red-hot and blister hispaint. 

This, and one or two other indications, made Ransome suspect theexistence of a furnace, and he had got a search-warrant in his pocket, on which, however, he did not think it safe to act till he had watchedthe suspected house late at night, and made certain observations forhimself. So he had invited himself to tea with his friend Little--forhe was sure of a hearty welcome at any hour--and, over their tea, he nowtold him his suspicions, and invited him to come in and take a look atthe suspected house with him. 

Little consented. But there was no hurry; the later they went to thehouse in question the better. So they talked of other matters, and theconversation soon fell on that which was far more interesting to Littlethan the capture of all the coiners in creation. 

He asked Ransome how long he was to go on like this, contenting himselfwith the mere sight of her. 

"Why;" said Ransome, "even that has made another man of you. Your eyeis twice as bright as it was a month ago, and your color is coming back. That is a wise proverb, 'Let well alone. ' I hear she visits the sick, and some of them swear by her. If think I'd give her time to take roothere; and then she will not be so ready to fly off in a tangent. "

Little objected that it was more than flesh and blood could bear. 

"Well, then, " said Ransome, "promise me just one thing: that, if youspeak to her, it shall be in Hillsborough, and not down here. "

Little saw the wisdom of this, and consented, but said he was resolvedto catch her at his own window the next time she came. 

He was about to give his reasons, but they were interrupted by a man andhorse clattering up to the door. 

"That will be for me, " said Ransome. "I thought I should not get leaveto drink my tea in peace. "

He was right; a mounted policeman brought him a note from the mayor, telling him word had come into the town that there was something wrongwith Ousely dam. He was to take the mayor's horse, and ride up at onceto the reservoir, and, if there was any danger, to warn the valley. 

"This looks serious, " said Ransome. "I must wish you good-by. "

"Take a piece of advice with you. I hear that dam is too full; ifso, don't listen to advice from anybody, but open the sluices of thewaste-pipes, and relieve the pressure; but if you find a flaw in theembankment, don't trifle, blow up the waste-wear at once with gunpowder. I wish I had a horse, I'd go with you. By the way, if there is the leastdanger of that dam bursting, of course you will give me warning in time, and I'll get her out of the house at once. "

"What, do you think the water would get as far as this, to do any harm?It is six miles. "

"It might. Look at the form of the ground; it is a regular trough fromthat dam to Hillsborough. My opinion is, it would sweep everythingbefore it, and flood Hillsborough itself--the lower town. I shall not goto bed, old fellow, till you come back and tell me it is all right. "

With this understanding Ransome galloped off. On his way he passed bythe house where he suspected coining. The shutters were closed, buthis experienced eye detected a bright light behind one of them, and apeculiar smoke from the chimney. 

Adding this to his other evidence, he now felt sure the inmates werecoiners, and he felt annoyed. "Fine I look, " said he, "walking tamelypast criminals at work, and going to a mayor's nest six miles off. "

However he touched the horse with his heel, and cantered forward on hiserrand. 

John Ransome rode up to the Ousely Reservoir, and down again in lessthan an hour and a half; and every incident of those two rides isimprinted on his memory for life. 

He first crossed the water at Poma bridge. The village of that name layon his right, toward Hillsborough, and all the lights were out exceptin the two public houses. One of these, "The Reindeer, " was near thebridge, and from it a ruddy glare shot across the road, and some booncompanions were singing, in very good harmony, a trite Scotch chorus:

 "We are no that fou, we are no that fou, But just a drappie in our ee; The cock may craw, the day may daw, But still we'll taste the barley bree. "

Ransome could hear the very words; he listened, he laughed, and thenrode up the valley till he got opposite a crinoline-wire factorycalled the "Kildare Wheel. " Here he observed a single candle burning; awatcher, no doubt. 

The next place he saw was also on the other side the stream; Dolman'sfarm-house, the prettiest residence in the valley. It was built ofstone, and beautifully situated on a promontory between two streams. Ithad a lawn in front, which went down to the very edge of the water, andwas much admired for its close turf and flowers. The farm buildings laybehind the house. 

There was no light whatever in Dolman's; but they were early people. The house and lawn slept peacefully in the night: the windows werenow shining, now dark, for small fleecy clouds kept drifting at shortintervals across the crescent moon. 

Ransome pushed on across the open ground, and for a mile or two sawfew signs of life, except here and there a flickering light in somewater-wheel, for now one picturesque dam and wheel succeeded anotheras rapidly as Nature permitted; and indeed the size of these dams, nowshining in the fitful moonlight, seemed remarkable, compared with themere thread of water which fed them, and connected them together formiles like pearls on a silver string. 

Ransome pushed rapidly on, up hill and down dale, till he reached thehigh hill, at whose foot lay the hamlet of Damflask, distant two milesfrom Ousely Reservoir. 

He looked down and saw a few lights in this hamlet, some stationary, buttwo moving. 

"Hum, " thought Ransome, "they don't seem to be quite so easy in theirminds up here. "

He dashed into the place, and drew up at the house where several personswere collected. 

As he came up, a singular group issued forth: a man with a pig-whip, driving four children--the eldest not above seven years old--andcarrying an infant in his arms. The little imps were clad in shoes, night-gowns, night-caps, and a blanket apiece, and were shivering andwhining at being turned out of bed into the night air. 

Ransome asked the man what was the matter

One of the by-standers laughed, and said, satirically, Ousely dam was toburst that night, so all the pigs and children were making for the hill. 

The man himself, whose name was Joseph Galton, explained more fully. 

"Sir, " said he, "my wife is groaning, and I am bound to obey her. Shehad a dream last night she was in a flood, and had to cross a plankor summut. I quieted her till supper; but then landlord came round andwarned all of us of a crack or summut up at dam. And so now I am takingthis little lot up to my brother's. It's the foolishest job I ever done:but needs must when the devil drives, and it is better so than to havemy old gal sour her milk, and pine her suckling, and maybe fret herselfto death into the bargain. "

Ransome seized on the information, and rode on directly to the villageinn. He called the landlord out, and asked him what he had been tellingthe villagers. Was there any thing seriously amiss up at the reservoir?

"Nay, I hope not, " said the man; "but we got a bit of a fright thisafternoon. A young man rode through, going down to Hillsborough, andstopped here to have his girth mended; he had broke it coming down ourhill. While he was taking a glass he let out his errand; they had founda crack in the embankment, and sent him down to Hillsborough to tell Mr. Tucker, the engineer. Bless your heart, we should never have known aughtabout it if his girth hadn't broke. " He added, as a reason for thinkingit was not serious that Mr. Tucker had himself inspected the dam justbefore tea-time, and hadn't even seen the crack. It was a laboring manwho had discovered it, through crossing the embankment lower down thanusual. "But you see, sir, " said he, in conclusion, "we lie very lowhere, and right in the track; and so we mustn't make light of a warning. And, of course, many of the workmen stop here and have their say; and, to tell you the truth, one or two of them have always misliked thefoundation that embankment is built on: too many old landslips to beseen about. But, after all, I suppose they can empty the dam, if needbe; and, of course, they will, if there is any danger. I expect Mr. Tucker up every minute. "

Ransome thanked him for his information and pushed on to Lower Hatfield:there he found lights in the houses and the inhabitants astir; but hepassed through the village in silence, and came to the great corn-mill, a massive stone structure with granite pillars, the pride of theplace. The building was full of lights, and the cranes were all at workhoisting the sacks of flour from the lower floors to the top story. Thefaces of the men reflected in the flaring gas, and the black cranes withtheir gaunt arms, and the dark bodies rising by the snake-likecords, formed a curious picture in the fluctuating moonlight, and aninteresting one too; for it showed the miller did not feel his flourquite safe. 

The next place Ransome came to was Fox Farm. 

Farmer Emden was standing at the door of his house, and, in reply toRansome, told him he had just come down from the reservoir. He had seenthe crack and believed it to be a mere frost crack. He apprehended nodanger, and had sent his people to bed; however, he should sit up for anhour or two just to hear what Tucker the engineer had to say about it;he had been sent for. 

Ransome left him, and a smart canter brought him in sight of what seemeda long black hill, with great glow-worms dotted here and there. 

That hill was the embankment, and the glow-worms were the lanterns ofworkmen examining the outer side of the embankment and prying into everypart. 

The enormous size and double slope of the bank, its apparent similarityin form and thickness to those natural barriers with which nature hemsin lakes of large dimensions, acted on Ransome's senses, and set himwondering at the timidity and credulity of the people in Hatfield andDamflask. This sentiment was uppermost in his mind when he rode up tothe south side of the embankment. 

He gave his horse to a boy, and got upon the embankment and lookednorth. 

The first glance at the water somewhat shook that impression of absolutesecurity the outer side of the barrier had given him. 

In nature a lake lies at the knees of the restraining hills, or else hasa sufficient outlet. 

But here was a lake nearly full to the brim on one side of the barrierand an open descent on the other. 

He had encountered a little wind coming up, but not much; here, however, the place being entirely exposed, the wind was powerful and blew rightdown the valley ruffling the artificial lake. 

Altogether it was a solemn scene, and, even at first glance, one thatcould not be surveyed, after all those comments and reports, withoutsome awe and anxiety. The surface of the lake shone like a mirror, andwaves of some size dashed against the embankment with a louder roar thanone would have thought possible, and tossed some spray clean over all;while, overhead, clouds, less fleecy now, and more dark and sullen, drifted so swiftly across the crescent moon that she seemed flyingacross the sky. 

Having now realized that the embankment, huge as it was, was not so highby several hundred feet as nature builds in parallel cases, and that, besides the natural pressure of the whole water, the upper surface ofthe lake was being driven by the wind against the upper or thin part ofthe embankment, Ransome turned and went down the embankment to look atthe crack and hear opinions. 

There were several workmen, an intelligent farmer called Ives, and Mr. Mountain, one of the contractors who had built the dam, all examiningthe crack. 

Mr. Mountain was remarking that the crack was perfectly dry, a plainproof there was no danger. 

"Ay, but, " said Ives, "it has got larger since tea-time; see, I can getmy hand in now. "

"Can you account for that?" asked Ransome of the contractor. 

Mountain said it was caused by the embankment settling. "Everythingsettles down a little--houses and embankments and all. There's nodanger, Mr. Ransome, believe me. "

"Well, sir, " said Ransome, "I am not a man of science, but I have goteyes, and I see the water is very high, and driving against your weakpart. Ah!" Then he remembered Little's advice. "Would you mind openingthe sluice-pipes?"

"Not in the least, but I think it is the engineer's business to give anorder of that kind. "

"But he is not here, and professional etiquette must give way whereproperty and lives, perhaps, are at stake. To tell you the truth, Mr. Mountain, I have got the advice of an abler man than Mr. Tucker. Hisword to me was, 'If the water is as high as they say, don't waste time, but open the sluices and relieve the dam. '"

The workmen who had said scarcely a word till then, raised an assentingmurmur at the voice of common sense. 

Mountain admitted it could do no harm, and gave an order accordingly;screws wore applied and the valves of the double set of sluice-pipeswere forced open, but with infinite difficulty, owing to the tremendouspressure of the water. 

This operation showed all concerned what a giant they were dealing with;while the sluices were being lifted, the noise and tremor of the pipeswere beyond experience and conception. When, after vast efforts, theywere at last got open, the ground trembled violently, and the water, asit rushed out of the pipes, roared like discharges of artillery. So hardis it to resist the mere effect of the senses, that nearly every bodyran back appalled, although the effect of all this roaring could onlybe to relieve the pressure; and, in fact, now that those sluices wereopened, the dam was safe, provided it could last a day or two. 

Lights were seen approaching, and Mr. Tucker, the resident engineer, drove up; he had Mr. Carter, one of the contractors, in the gig withhim. 

He came on the embankment, and signified a cold approval of the sluicesbeing opened. 

Then Ransome sounded him about blowing up the waste-wear. 

Tucker did not reply, but put some questions to a workman or two. Theiranswers showed that they considered the enlargement of the crack a fatalsign. 

Upon this Mr. Tucker ordered them all to stand clear of the suspectedpart. 

"Now, then, " said he, "I built this embankment, and I'll tell youwhether it is going to burst or not. "

Then he took a lantern, and was going to inspect the crack himself; butMr. Carter, respecting his courage and coolness, would accompany him. They went to the crack, examined it carefully with their lanterns, andthen crossed over to the waste-wear; no water was running into it in theordinary way, which showed the dam was not full to its utmost capacity. 

They returned, and consulted with Mountain. 

Ransome put in his word, and once more remembering Little's advice, begged them to blow up the waste-wear. 

Tucker thought that was a stronger measure than the occasion required;there was no immediate danger; and the sluice-pipes would lower thewater considerably in twenty-four hours. 

Farmer Ives put in his word. "I can't learn from any of you that anenlarging crack in a new embankment is a common thing. I shall go home, but my boots won't come off this night. "

Encouraged by this, Mr. Mountain, the contractor, spoke out. 

"Mr. Tucker, " said he, "don't deceive yourself; the sluice-pipes aretoo slow; if we don't relieve the dam, there'll be a blow-up in half anhour; mark my words. "

"Well, " said Mr. Tucker, "no precaution has been neglected in buildingthis dam: provision has been made even for blowing up the waste-wear;a hole has been built in the masonry, and there's dry powder and a fusekept at the valve-house. I'll blow up the waste-wear, though I think itneedless. I am convinced that crack is above the level of the water inthe reservoir. "

This observation struck Ransome, and he asked if it could not beascertained by measurement. 

"Of course it can, " said Tucker, "and I'll measure it as I come back. "

He then started for the wear, and Carter accompanied him. 

They crossed the embankment, and got to the wear. 

Ives went home, and the workmen withdrew to the side, not knowingexactly what might be the effect of the explosion. 

By-and-by Ransome looked up, and observed a thin sheet of waterbeginning to stream over the center of the embankment and trickledown: the quantity was nothing; but it alarmed him. Having no specialknowledge on these matters, he was driven to comparisons; and it flashedacross him that, when he was a boy, and used to make little mud-dams inApril, they would resist the tiny stream until it trickled over them, and from that moment their fate was sealed. Nature, he had observed, operates alike in small things and great, and that sheet of water, though thin as a wafer, alarmed him. 

He thought it was better to give a false warning than withhold a trueone; he ran to his horse, jumped on him, and spurred away. 

His horse was fast and powerful, and carried him in three minutes backto Emden's farm. The farmer had gone to bed. Ransome knocked him up, andtold him he feared the dam was going; then galloped on to Hatfield Mill. Here he found the miller and his family all gathered outside, ready fora start; one workman had run down from the reservoir. 

"The embankment is not safe. "

"So I hear. I'll take care of my flour and my folk. The mill will takecare of itself. " And he pointed with pride to the solid structure andgranite pillars. 

Ransome galloped on, shouting as he went. 

The shout was taken up ahead, and he heard a voice crying in the night, "IT'S COMING! IT'S COMING!" This weird cry, which, perhaps, his owngalloping and shouting had excited, seemed like an independent warning, and thrilled him to the bone. He galloped through Hatfield, shouting, "Save yourselves! Save yourselves!" and the people poured out, and ranfor high ground, shrieking wildly; looking back, he saw the hill dottedwith what he took for sheep at first, but it was the folk in theirnight-clothes. 

He galloped on to Damflask, still shouting as he went. 

At the edge of the hamlet, he found a cottage with no light in it; hedismounted and thundered at the door: "Escape for your lives! for yourlives!"

A man called Hillsbro' Harry opened the window. 

"The embankrncnt is going. Fly for your lives!"

"Nay, " said the man, coolly, "Ouseley dam will brust noane this week, "and turned to go to bed again. 

He found Joseph Galton and another man carrying Mrs. Galton and hernew-born child away in a blanket. This poor woman, who had sent her fivechildren away on the faith of a dream, was now objecting, in a faintvoice, to be saved herself from evident danger. "Oh, dear, dear! youmight as well let me go down with the flood as kill me with taking meaway. "

Such was the sapient discourse of Mrs. Galton, who, half an hour ago, had been supernaturally wise and prudent. Go to, wise mother and sillywoman; men will love thee none the less for the inequalities of thineintellect; and honest Joe will save thy life, and heed thy twaddle nomore than the bleating of a lamb. 

Ransome had not left the Galtons many yards behind him, when there was asharp explosion heard up in the hills. 

Ransome pulled up and said aloud, "It will be all right now, thankgoodness! they have blown up the wear. "

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when he heard a loud sullenroar, speedily followed by a tremendous hiss, and a rumbling thunder, that shook the very earth where he stood, two miles distant. 

This is what had taken place since he left the reservoir, but tenminutes ago. 

Mr. Tucker and Mr. Carter laid the gunpowder and the train, and lightedthe latter, and came back across the middle of the embankment. 

Being quite safe here from the effect of the explosion, Mr. Tucker wasdesirous to establish by measurement that the water in the reservoir hadnot risen so high as the crack in the embankment. 

With this view he took out a measure, and, at some risk of being sweptinto eternity, began coolly to measure the crack downward. 

At this very time water was trickling over; and that alarmed Carter, andhe told Tucker they were trifling with their own lives. 

"Oh, " said Tucker, "that is only the spray from the waves. "

They actually measured the crack, stooping over it with their lanterns. 

When they had done that, Carter raised his head, and suddenly clutchedTucker by the arm and pointed upward. The water was pouring over thetop, still in a thin sheet, but then that sheet was gradually widening. The water came down to their feet, and some of it disappeared in thecrack; and the crack itself looked a little larger than when lastinspected. Tucker said, gravely, "I don't like that: but let me examinethe valve-house at once. " He got down to the valve-house, but beforehe could ascertain what quantity of water was escaping Carter called tohim, "Come out, for God's sake, or you are lost. "

He came running out, and saw an opening thirty feet wide and nearly afoot deep, and a powerful stream rushing over it. 

The moment Tucker saw that, he cried, "It's all up, the embankment mustgo!" And, the feeling of the architect overpowering the instincts of theman, he stood aghast. But Carter laid hold of him, and dragged him away. 

Then he came to himself, and they ran across the embankment. 

As they started, the powder, which had hung fire unaccountably, wentoff, and blew up the waste-wear; but they scarcely heard it; for, asthey ran, the rent above kept enlarging and deepening at a fearfulrate, and the furious stream kept rushing past their flying heels, andthreatened to sweep them sideways to destruction. 

They were safe at last; but even as they stood panting, the rent in thetop of the embankment spread--deepened--yawned terrifically--and thepent-up lake plunged through, and sweeping away at once the centerof the embankment, rushed, roaring and hissing, down the valley, anavalanche of water, whirling great trees up by the roots, and sweepinghuge rocks away, and driving them, like corks, for miles. 

At that appalling sound, that hissing thunder, the like of which he hadnever heard before, and hopes never to hear again, Ransome spurredaway at all his speed, and warned the rest of the village with loudinarticulate cries: he could not wait to speak, nor was it necessary. 

At the top of the hill he turned a moment, and looked up the valley;soon he saw a lofty white wall running down on Hatfield Mill: it struckthe mill, and left nothing visible but the roof, surrounded by whitefoam. 

Another moment, and he distinctly saw the mill swim a yard or two, thendisappear and leave no trace, and on came the white wall, hissing andthundering. 

Ransome uttered a cry of horror, and galloped madly forward, to savewhat lives he might. 

Whenever he passed a house he shrieked his warning, but he never drewrein. 

As he galloped along his mind worked. He observed the valley widen inplaces, and he hoped the flying lake would spread, and so lose some ofthat tremendous volume and force before which he had seen Hatfield stonemill go down. 

With this hope he galloped on, and reached Poma Bridge, five miles and ahalf from the reservoir. 

Here, to his dismay, he heard the hissing thunder sound as near to himas it was when he halted on the hill above Damflask; but he could seenothing, owing to a turn in the valley. 

At the bridge itself he found a man standing without his hat, staringwildly up the valley. 

He yelled to this man, "Dam is burst. Warn the village--for theirlives--run on to Hillsborough--when you are winded, send another on. You'll all be paid at the Town Hall. "

Then he dashed across the bridge. 

As he crossed it, he caught sight of the flying lake once more: he hadgone over more ground, but he had gone no further. He saw the white wallstrike Dolman's farm; there was a light in one window now. He saw thefarm-house, with its one light, swim bodily, then melt and disappear, with all the poor souls in it. 

He galloped on: his hat flew off; he came under the coiners' house, andyelled a warning. A window was opened, and a man looked out; the lightwas behind him, and, even in that terrible moment, he recognized--ShiftyDick. 

"The flood! the flood! Fly! Get on high ground, for your lives!"

He galloped furiously, and made for Little's house. 

CHAPTER XLIV. 

Little took a book, and tried to while away the time till Ransome'sreturn; but he could not command his attention. The conversation aboutGrace had excited a topic which excluded every other. 

He opened his window, a French casement, and looked out upon the night. 

Then he observed that Grace, too, was keeping vigil; for a faint lightshot from her window and sparkled on the branches of the plane-tree inher little front garden. 

"And that, " thought Henry, sadly, "is all I can see of her. Close toher, yet far off--further than ever now. "

A deep sadness fell on him, sadness and doubt. Suppose he were to lay atrap for her to-morrow, and catch her at her own door! What good wouldit do? He put himself in her place. That process showed him at once shewould come no more. He should destroy her little bit of patient, quiethappiness, the one daily sunbeam of her desolate life. 

By-and-by, feeling rather drowsy, he lay down in his clothes to wait forRansome's return. He put out his light. 

From his bed he could see Grace's light kiss the plane-tree. 

He lay and fixed his eyes on it, and thought of all that had passedbetween them; and, by-and-by, love and grief made his eyes misty, andthat pale light seemed to dance and flicker before him. 

About midnight, he was nearly dozing off, when his ear caught amuttering outside; he listened, and thought he heard some instrumentgrating below. 

He rose very softly, and crept to the window, and looked keenly throughhis casement. 

He saw nothing at first; but presently a dark object emerged from behindthe plane-tree I have mentioned, and began to go slowly, but surely upit. 

Little feared it was a burglar about to attack that house which held hisdarling. 

He stepped softly to his rifle and loaded both barrels. It was abreech-loader. Then he crawled softly to the window, and peered out, rifle in hand. 

The man had climbed the tree, and was looking earnestly in at one of thewindows in Grace's house. His attention was so fixed that he never sawthe gleaming eye which now watched him. 

Presently the drifting clouds left the moon clear a minute, and HenryLittle recognized the face of Frederick Coventry. 

He looked at him, and began to tremble. 

Why did he tremble? Because--after the first rush of surprise--rage, hate, and bloody thoughts crossed his mind. Here was his enemy, thebarrier to his happiness, come, of his own accord, to court his death. Why not take him for a burglar, and shoot him dead? Such an act might beblamed, but it could not be punished severely. 

The temptation was so great, that the rifle shook in his hands, and acold perspiration poured down his back. 

He prayed to God in agony to relieve him from this temptation; he feltthat it was more than he could bear. 

He looked up. Coventry was drawing up a short iron ladder from below. Hethen got hold of it and fixed it on the sill of Grace's window. 

Little burst his own window open. "You villain!" he cried, and leveledhis rifle at him. 

Coventry uttered a yell of dismay. Grace opened her window, and lookedout, with a face full of terror. 

At sight of her, Coventry cried to her in abject terror, "Mercy! mercy!Don't let him shoot me!"

Grace looked round, and saw Henry aiming at Coventry. 

She screamed, and Little lowered the rifle directly. 

Coventry crouched directly in the fork of the tree. 

Grace looked bewildered from one to the other; but it was to Henry shespoke, and asked him in trembling tones what it "all meant?"

But, ere either could make a reply, a dire sound was heard of hissingthunder: so appalling that the three actors in this strange scene wereall frozen and rooted where they stood. 

Then came a fierce galloping, and Ransome, with his black hair and beardflying, and his face like a ghost, reined up, and shouted wildly, "Damburst! Coming down here! Fly for your lives! Fly!"

He turned and galloped up the hill. 

Cole and his mate emerged, and followed him, howling; but before theother poor creatures, half paralyzed, could do any thing, the hissingthunder was upon them. What seemed a mountain of snow came rolling, andburst on them with terrific violence, whirling great trees and fragmentsof houses past with incredible velocity. 

At the first blow, the house that stood nearest to the flying lake wasshattered and went to pieces soon after: all the houses quivered as thewater rushed round them two stories high. 

Little never expected to live another minute; yet, in that awful moment, his love stood firm. He screamed to Grace, "The houses must go!--thetree!--the tree!--get to the tree!"

But Grace, so weak at times, was more than mortal strong at that dreadhour. 

"What! live with him, " she cried, "when I can die with you!"

She folded her arms, and her pale face was radiant, no hope, no fear. 

Now came a higher wave, and the water reached above the window-sills ofthe bedroom floor and swept away the ladder; yet, driven forward like acannon-bullet, did not yet pour into the bed-rooms from the main stream;but by degrees the furious flood broke, melted, and swept away theintervening houses, and then hacked off the gable-end of Grace's house, as if Leviathan had bitten a piece out. Through that aperture the floodcame straight in, leveled the partitions at a blow, rushed into theupper rooms with fearful roar, and then, rushing out again to rejoin thegreater body of water, blew the front wall clean away, and swept Graceout into the raging current. 

The water pouring out of the house carried her, at first, toward thetree, and Little cried wildly to Coventry to save her. He awoke from hisstupor of horror, and made an attempt to clutch her; but then the mainforce of the mighty water drove her away from him toward the house; herhelpless body was whirled round and round three times, by the strugglingeddies, and then hurried away like a feather by the overwhelmingtorrent. 

CHAPTER XLV. 

The mighty reflux, which, after a short struggle, overpowered the rushof water from the windows, and carried Grace Carden's helpless body awayfrom the tree, drove her of course back toward the houses, and she waswhirled past Little's window with fearful velocity, just as he was goingto leap into the flood, and perish in an insane attempt to save her. With a loud cry he seized her by her long floating hair, and tried todraw her in at the window; but the mighty water pulled her from himfiercely, and all but dragged him in after her; he was only saved byclutching the side of the wall with his left hand: the flood was likesome vast solid body drawing against him; and terror began to seize onhis heart. He ground his teeth; he set his knee against the horizontalprojection of the window; and that freed his left hand; he suddenlyseized her arm with it, and, clutching it violently, ground his teethtogether, and, throwing himself backward with a jerk, tore her out ofthe water by an effort almost superhuman. Such was the force exerted bythe torrent on one side, and the desperate lover on the other, that nother shoes only, but her stockings, though gartered, were torn off her inthat fierce struggle. 

He had her in his arms, and cried aloud, and sobbed over her, and kissedher wet cheeks, her lank hair, and her wet clothes, in a wild rapture. He went on kissing her and sobbing over her so wildly and so long, thatCoventry, who had at first exulted with him at her rescue, began to ragewith jealousy. 

"Please remember she is my wife, " he shrieked: "don't take advantage ofher condition, villain!"

"Your wife, you scoundrel! You stole her from me once; now come and takeher from me again. Why didn't you save her? She was near to you. Youlet her die: she lives by me, and for me, and I for her. " With thishe kissed her again, and held her to his bosom. "D'ye see that?--liar!coward! villain!"

Even across that tremendous body of rushing death, from which neitherwas really safe, both rivals' eyes gleamed hate at each other. 

The wild beasts that a flood drives together on to some little eminence, lay down their natures, and the panther crouches and whimpers beside theantelope; but these were men, and could entertain the fiercest of humanpassions in the very jaws of death. 

To be sure it was but for a moment; a new danger soon brought them bothto their senses; an elm-tree whirling past grazed Coventry's plane-tree;it was but a graze, yet it nearly shook him off into the flood, and heyelled with fear: almost at the same moment a higher wave swept intoLittle's room, and the rising water set every thing awash, and burstover him as he kneeled with grace. He got up, drenched and half-blindedwith the turbid water, and, taking Grace in his arms, waded waist-highto his bed, and laid her down on it. 

It was a moment of despair. Death had entered that chamber in a new, unforeseen, and inevitable form. The ceiling was low, the water wasrising steadily; the bedstead floated; his chest of drawers floated, though his rifle and pistols lay on it, and the top drawers were fullof the tools he always had about him: in a few minutes the rising watermust inevitably jam Grace and him against the ceiling, and drown themlike rats in a hole. 

Fearful as the situation was, a sickening horror was added to it bythe horrible smell of the water; it had a foul and appalling odor, acompound of earthiness and putrescence; it smelt like a newly-openedgrave; it paralyzed like a serpent's breath. 

Stout as young Little's heart was, it fainted now when he saw hisbedstead, and his drawers, and his chairs, all slowly rising toward theceiling, lifted by that cold, putrescent, liquid death. 

But all men, and even animals, possess greater powers of mind, as wellas of body, than they ever exert, unless compelled by dire necessity:and it would have been strange indeed if a heart so stanch, and a brainso inventive, as Little's, had let his darling die like a rat drowned ina hole, without some new and masterly attempt first made to save her. 

To that moment of horror and paralysis succeeded an activity of mindand body almost incredible. He waded to the drawers, took his rifleand fired both barrels at one place in the ceiling bursting a hole, andcutting a narrow joist almost in two. Then he opened a drawer, got an axand a saw out, and tried to wade to the bed; but the water now took himoff his feet, and he had to swim to it instead; he got on it, and withhis axe and his saw he contrived to paddle the floating bed under thehole in the ceiling, and then with a few swift and powerful blows ofhis ax soon enlarged that aperture sufficiently; but at that moment thewater carried the bedstead away from the place. 

He set to work with his saw and ax, and paddled back again. 

Grace, by this time, was up on her knees, and in a voice, the suddenfirmness of which surprised and delighted him, asked if she could help. 

"Yes, " said he, "you can. On with my coat. "

It lay on the bed. She helped him on with it, and then he put his ax andsaw into the pockets, and told her to take hold of his skirt. 

He drew himself up through the aperture, and Grace, holding his skirtswith her hands and the bed with her feet, climbed adroitly on to thehead of the bed--a French bed made of mahogany--and Henry drew herthrough the aperture. 

They were now on the false ceiling, and nearly jammed against the roof:Little soon hacked a great hole in that just above the parapet, and theycrawled out upon the gutter. 

They were now nearly as high as Coventry on his tree; but their housewas rocking, and his tree was firm. 

In the next house were heard the despairing shrieks of poor creatureswho saw no way of evading their fate; yet the way was as open to them asto this brave pair. 

"Oh, my angel, " said Grace, "save them. Then, if you die, you go toGod. "

"All right, " said Henry. "Come on. "

They darted down the gutter to the next house. Little hacked a hole inthe slates, and then in the wood-work, and was about to jump in, whenthe house he had just left tumbled all to pieces, like a house of sugar, and the debris went floating by, including the bedstead that had helpedto save them. 

"O God!" cried Little, "this house will go next; run on to the lastone. "

"No, Henry, I would rather die with you than live alone. Don't befrightened for me, my angel. Save lives, and trust to Jesus. "

"All right, " said Little; but his voice trembled now. 

He jumped in, hacked a hole in the ceiling, and yelled to the inmates togive him their hands. 

There was a loud cry of male and female voices. 

"My child first, " cried a woman, and threw up an infant, which Littlecaught and handed to Grace. She held it, wailing to her breast. 

Little dragged five more souls up. Grace helped them out, and they ranalong the gutter to the last house without saying "Thank you. "

The house was rocking. Little and Grace went on to the next, and hesmashed the roof in, and then the ceiling, and Grace and he were gettingthe people out, when the house they had just left melted away, all buta chimney-stack, which adhered in jagged dilapidation to the house theywere now upon. 

They were now upon the last. Little hacked furiously through the roofand ceiling, and got the people out; and now twenty-seven souls crouchedin the gutter, or hung about the roof of this one house; some praying, but most of them whining and wailing. 

"What is the use of howling?" groaned Little. 

He then drew his Grace to his panting bosom, and his face was full ofmortal agony. 

She consoled him. "Never mind, my angel. God has seen you. He is good tous, and lets us die together. "

At this moment the house gave a rock, and there was a fresh burst ofwailing. 

This, connected with his own fears, enraged Henry. 

"Be quiet, " said he, sternly. "Why can't you die decently, like yourbetters?"

Then he bent his head in noble silence over his beloved, and devouredher features as those he might never see again. 

At this moment was heard a sound like the report of a gun: a large treewhirled down by the flood, struck the plane-tree just below the fork, and cut it in two as promptly as a scythe would go through a carrot. 

It drove the upper part along, and, going with it, kept it perpendicularfor some time; the white face and glaring eyes of Frederick Coventrysailed past these despairing lovers; he made a wild clutch at them, thensank in the boiling current, and was hurried away. 

This appalling incident silenced all who saw it for a moment. Then theybegan to wail louder than ever. 

But Little started to his feet, and cried "Hurrah!"

There was a general groan. 

"Hold your tongues, " he roared. "I've got good news for you. The waterwas over the top windows; now it is an inch lower. The reservoir must beempty by now. The water will go down as fast as it rose. Keep quiet fortwo minutes, and you will see. "

Then no more was heard but the whimpering of the women, and, every nowand then, the voice of Little; he hung over the parapet, and reportedevery half-minute the decline of the water; it subsided with strangerapidity, as he had foreseen. 

In three minutes after he had noticed the first decline, he took Gracedown through the roof, on the second floor. 

When Grace and Henry got there, they started with dismay: the dangerwas not over: the front wall was blown clean out by the water; all buta jagged piece shaped like a crescent, and it seemed a miracle that theroof, thus weakened and crowded with human beings, had not fallen in. 

"We must get out of this, " said Little. "It all hangs together by athread. "

He called the others down from the roof, and tried to get down by thestaircase, but it was broken into sections and floating about. Then hecut into the floor near the wall, and, to his infinite surprise, foundthe first floor within four feet of him. The flood had lifted it bodilymore than six feet. 

He dropped on to it, and made Grace let herself down to him, he holdingher round the waist, and landing her light as a feather. 

Henry then hacked through the door, which was jammed tight; and, the water subsiding, presently the wrecks of the staircase left offfloating, and stuck in the mud and water: by this means they managedto get down, and found themselves in a layer of mud, and stones, anddebris, alive and dead, such as no imagination had hitherto conceived. 

Dreading, however, to remain in a house so disemboweled within, and soshattered without, that it seemed to survive by mere cohesion of mortar, he begged Grace to put her arm round his neck, and then lifted her andcarried her out into the night. 

"Take me home to papa, my angel, " said she. 

He said he would; and tried to find his way to the road which he knewled up the hill to Woodbine Villa. But all landmarks were gone; houses, trees, hedges, all swept away; roads covered three feet thick withrocks, and stones, and bricks, and carcasses. The pleasant valley wasone horrid quagmire, in which he could take few steps, burdened ashe was, without sticking, or stumbling against some sure sign ofdestruction and death: within the compass of fifty yards he found asteam-boiler and its appurtenances (they must have weighed some tons, yet they had been driven more than a mile), and a dead cow, and thebody of a wagon turned upside down: [the wheels of this same wagon wereafterward found fifteen miles from the body]. 

He began to stagger and pant. 

"Let me walk, my angel, " said Grace. "I'm not a baby. "

She held his hand tight, and tried to walk with him step by step. Herwhite feet shone in the pale moonlight. 

They made for rising ground, and were rewarded by finding the debrisless massive. 

"The flood must have been narrow hereabouts, " said Henry. "We shall soonbe clear of it, I hope. "

Soon after this, they came under a short but sturdy oak that hadsurvived; and, entangled in its close and crooked branches, wassomething white. They came nearer; it was a dead body: some poor man orwoman hurried from sleep to Eternity. 

They shuddered and crawled on, still making for higher ground, but soreperplexed. 

Presently they heard a sort of sigh. They went toward it, and found apoor horse stuck at an angle; his efforts to escape being marred by aheavy stone to which he was haltered. 

Henry patted him, and encouraged him, and sawed through his halter;then he struggled up, but Henry held him, and put Grace on him. She satacross him and held on by the mane. 

The horse, being left to himself, turned back a little, and crossed thequagmire till he got into a bridle-road, and this landed them high anddry on the turnpike. 

Here they stopped, and, by one impulse, embraced each other, and thankedGod for their wonderful escape. 

But soon Henry's exultation took a turn that shocked Grace's religioussentiments, which recent acquaintance had strengthened. 

"Yes, " he cried, "now I believe that God really does interpose inearthly things; I believe every thing; yesterday I believed nothing. Theone villain is swept away, and we two are miraculously saved. Now we canmarry to-morrow--no, to-day, for it is past midnight. Oh, how good Heis, especially for killing that scoundrel out of our way. Without hisdeath, what was life worth to me? But now--oh, Heavens! is it all adream? Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!"

"Oh, Henry, my love!" said Grace imploringly; "pray, pray do notoffend Him, by rejoicing at such a moment over the death, perhaps theeverlasting death, of a poor, sinful fellow-creature. "

"All right, dearest. Only don't let us descend to hypocrisy. I thankHeaven he is dead, and so do you. "

"Pray don't SAY so. "

"Well, I won't: let him go. Death settles all accounts. Did you see mestretch out my hand to save him?"

"I did, my angel, and it was like you: you are the noblest and thegreatest creature that ever was, or ever will be. "

"The silliest, you mean. I wondered at myself next minute. Fancy mebeing such an idiot as to hold out a hand to save him, and so witherboth our lives--yours and mine; but I suppose it is against nature notto hold out a hand. Well, no harm came of it, thank Heaven. "

"Let us talk of ourselves, " said Grace, lovingly. "My darling, let noharsh thought mar the joy of this hour. You have saved my life again. Well, then, it is doubly yours. Here, looking on that death we have justescaped, I devote myself to you. You don't know how I love you; but youshall. I adore you. "

"I love you better still. "

"You do not: you can't. It is the one thing I can beat you at and Iwill. "

"Try. When will you be mine?"

"I am yours. But if you mean when will I marry you, why, whenever youplease. We have suffered too cruelly, and loved too dearly, for me toput you off a single day for affectations and vanities. When you please, my own. "

At this Henry kissed her little white feet with rapture, and keptkissing them, at intervals, all the rest of the way: and the horrorsof the night ended, to these two, in unutterable rapture, as they pacedslowly along to Woodbine Villa with hearts full of wonder, gratitude, and joy. 

Here they found lights burning, and learned from a servant that Mr. Carden was gone down to the scene of the flood in great agitation. 

Henry told Grace not to worry herself, for that he would find him andrelieve his fears. 

He then made Grace promise to go to bed at once, and to lie withinblankets. She didn't like that idea, but consented. "It is my duty toobey you now in every thing, " said she. 

Henry left her, and ran down to the Town Hall. 

He was in that glorious state of bliss in which noble minds long todo good actions; and the obvious thing to do was to go and comfort theliving survivors of the terrible disaster he had so narrowly escaped. 

He found but one policeman there; the rest, and Ransome at their head, were doing their best; all but two, drowned on their beat in the verytown of Hillsborough. 

CHAPTER XLVI. 

Round a great fire in the Town Hall were huddled a number of half-nakedcreatures, who had been driven out of their dilapidated homes; someof them had seen children or relatives perish in the flood they hadthemselves so narrowly escaped, and were bemoaning them with chatteringteeth. 

Little spoke them a word of comfort, promised them all clothes as soonas the shops should open, and hurried off to the lower part of the townin search of Ransome. 

He soon found the line the flood had taken. Between Poma Bridge andHillsborough it had wasted itself considerably in a broad valley, but still it had gone clean through Hillsborough twelve feet high, demolishing and drowning. Its terrible progress was marked by a layer ofmud a foot thick, dotted with rocks, trees, wrecks of houses, machinery, furniture, barrels, mattresses, carcasses of animals, and dead bodies, most of them stark naked, the raging flood having torn their clothes offtheir backs. 

Four corpses and two dead horses were lying in a lake of mud about thevery door of the railway station; three of them were females in absolutenudity. The fourth was a male, with one stocking on. This proved to beHillsbro' Harry, warned in vain up at Damflask. When he actually heardthe flood come hissing, he had decided, on the whole, to dress, and hadgot the length of that one stocking, when the flying lake cut short hisvegetation. 

Not far from this, Little found Ransome, working like a horse, with thetear in his eyes. 

He uttered a shout of delight and surprise, and, taking Little by bothshoulders, gazed earnestly at him, and said, "Can this be a living man Isee?"

"Yes, I am alive, " said Little, "but I had to work for it: feel myclothes. "

"Why, the are dryer than mine. "

"Ay; yet have been in water to the throat; the heat of my body and mygreat exertions dried them. I'll tell you all another day: now show mehow to do a bit of good; for it is not one nor two thousand pounds I'llstick at, this night. "

"Come on. "

Strange sights they saw that night. 

They found a dead body curled round the top frame of a lamppost, and, inthe suburbs, another jammed between a beam and the wall of a house. 

They found some houses with the front wall carried clean away, and, onthe second floor, such of the inmates as had survived huddled togetherin their night-clothes, unable to get down. These, Ransome and his menspeedily relieved from their situation. 

And now came in word that the whole village of Poma Bridge had beendestroyed. 

Little, with Ransome and his men, hurried on at these sad tidings asfast as the mud and ruins would allow, and, on the way, one of thepolicemen trod on something soft. It was the body of a woman imbedded inthe mud. 

A little further they saw, at some distance, two cottages in a row, both gutted and emptied. An old man was alone in one, seated on theground-floor in the deep mud. 

They went to him, and asked what they could do for him. 

"Do? Why let me die, " he said. 

They tried to encourage him; but he answered them in words that showedhow deeply old Shylock's speech is founded in nature:

"Let the water take me--it has taken all I had. "

When they asked after his neighbors, he said he believed they were alldrowned. Unluckily for HIM, he had been out when the flood came. 

Little clambered into the other cottage, and found a little boy and girlplacidly asleep in a cupboard upstairs. 

Little yelled with delight, and kissed them, and cuddled them, as ifthey had been his own, so sweet was it to see their pretty innocentfaces, spared by death. The boy kissed him in return, and told him theroom had been full of water, and dada and mamma had gone out at thewindow, and they themselves had floated in the bed so high he had puthis little sister on the top shelf, and got on it himself, and then theyhad both felt very sleepy. 

"You are a dear good boy, and I take you into custody, " said Ransome, ina broken voice. 

Judge if this pair were petted, up at the Town Hall. 

At Poma Bridge the devastation was horrible. The flood had bombarded arow of fifty houses, and demolished them so utterly that only one archof one cellar remained; the very foundations were torn up, and hugeholes of incredible breadth and depth bored by the furious eddies. 

Where were the inhabitants?

Ransome stood and looked and shook like a man in an ague. 

"Little, " said he, "this is awful. Nobody in Hillsborough dreams theextent of this calamity. I DREAD THE DAWN OF DAY. There must be scoresof dead bodies hidden in this thick mud, or perhaps swept throughHillsborough into the very sea. "

A little further, and they came to the "Reindeer, " where he had heardthe boon-companions singing--over their graves; for that night, longbefore the "cock did craw, or the day daw, " their mouths were full ofwater and mud, and not the "barley bree. "

To know their fate needed but a glance at the miserable, shattered, gutted fragment of the inn that stood. There was a chimney, a triangularpiece of roof, a quarter of the inside of one second-floor room, withall the boards gone and half the joists gone, and the others eitherhanging down perpendicular or sticking up at an angle of forty-five. Even on the side furthest from the flood the water had hacked and plowedaway the wall so deeply, that the miserable wreck had a jagged waist, nobigger in proportion than a wasp's. 

Not far from this amazing ruin was a little two-storied house, whosefour rooms looked exactly, as four rooms are represented in sectionon the stage, the front wall having been blown clean away, and thefurniture and inmates swept out; the very fender and fire-irons had beencarried away: a bird-cage, a clock, and a grate were left hanging to thethree walls. 

As a part of this village stood on high ground, the survivors werewithin reach of relief; and Little gave a policeman orders to buyclothes at the shop, and have them charged to him. 

This done, he begged Ransome to cross the water, and relieve the poorwretches who had escaped so narrowly with him. Ransome consented atonce; but then came a difficulty--the bridge, like every bridge that theflying lake had struck, was swept away. However, the stream was narrow, and, as they were already muddy to the knee, they found a place wherethe miscellaneous ruin made stepping-stones, and by passing first on toa piece of masonry, and from that to a broken water-wheel, and then onto a rock, they got across. 

They passed the coiner's house. It stood on rather high ground, and hadgot off cheap. The water had merely carried away the door and windows, and washed every movable out of it. 

Ransome sighed. "Poor Shifty!" said he; "you'll never play us anothertrick. What an end for a man of your abilities!"

And now the day began to dawn, and that was fortunate, for otherwisethey could hardly have found the house they were going to. 

On the way to it they came on two dead bodies, an old man of eighty anda child scarce a week old. One fate had united these extremes of humanlife, the ripe sheaf and the spring bud. It transpired afterward thatthey had been drowned in different parishes. Death, that brought thesetogether, disunited hundreds. Poor Dolman's body was found scarce amile from his house, but his wife's eleven miles on the other side ofHillsborough; and this wide separation of those who died in one place byone death, was constant, and a pitiable feature of the tragedy. 

At last they got to the house, and Little shuddered at the sight of it;here not only was the whole front wall taken out, but a part of theback wall; the jagged chimneys of the next house still clung to thismiserable shell, whose upper floors were slanting sieves, and on itslower was a deep layer of mud, with the carcass of a huge sow lying onit, washed in there all the way from Hatfield village. 

The people had all run away from the house, and no wonder, for it seemedincredible that it could stand a single moment longer; never had ruincome so close to demolition and then stopped. 

There was nothing to be done here, and Ransome went back toHillsborough, keeping this side the water. 

Daybreak realized his worst fears: between Poma Bridge and the firstsuburb of Hillsborough the place was like a battle-field; not that manyhad been drowned on the spot, but that, drowned all up the valley by theflood at its highest, they had been brought down and deposited in thethick layer of mud left by the abating waters. Some were cruelly gashedand mangled by the hard objects with which they had come in contact. Others wore a peaceful expression and had color in their cheeks. Onedrew tears from both these valiant men. It was a lovely little girl, with her little hands before her face to keep out the sight of death. 

Here and there, a hand or a ghastly face appearing above the mud showedhow many must be hidden altogether, and Ransome hurried home to get moreassistance to disinter the dead. 

Just before the suburb of Allerton the ground is a dead flat, and herethe flying lake had covered a space a mile broad, doing frightfuldamage to property but not much to life, because wherever it expanded itshallowed in proportion. 

In part of this flat a gentleman had a beautiful garden andpleasure-grounds overnight: they were now under water, and theirappearance was incredible; the flood expanding here and thencontracting, had grounded large objects and left small ones floating. Inone part of the garden it had landed a large wheat-rick, which now stoodas if it belonged there, though it had been built five miles off. 

In another part was an inverted summer-house and a huge water-wheel, both of them great travelers that night. 

In the large fish-pond, now much fuller than usual, floated awheel-barrow, a hair mattress, an old wooden cradle, and an enormous boxor chest. 

Little went splashing through the water to examine the cradle: he wasrichly rewarded. He found a little child in it awake but perfectlyhappy, and enjoying the fluttering birds above and the buoyant bedbelow, whose treacherous nature was unknown to him. This incident thegenius of my friend Mr. Millais is about to render immortal. 

Little's shout of delight brought Ransome splashing over directly. Theytook up the cradle and contents to carry it home, when all of a suddenRansome's eye detected a finger protruding through a hole in the box. 

"Hallo!" said he. "Why, there's a body inside that box. "

"Good heavens!" said Little, "he may be alive. "

With that he made a rush and went in over head and ears. 

"Confound it" said he as soon as he got his breath. But, being in for itnow, he swam to the box, and getting behind it, shoved it before him toRansome's feet. 

Ransome tried to open it, but it shut with a spring. However, there wereair-holes, and still this finger sticking out of one--for a signal nodoubt. 

"Are ye alive or dead?" shouted Ransome to the box. "Let me out andyou'll see, " replied the box; and the sound seemed to issue from thebowels of the earth. 

Little had his hatchet in his pocket and set to work to try and openit. The occupant assisted him with advice how to proceed, all of whichsounded subterraneous. 

"Hold your jaw!" said Little. "Do you think you can teach me?"

By a considerable exertion of strength as well as skill, he at last gotthe box open, and discovered the occupant seated pale and chattering, with knees tucked up. 

The two men lent him a hand to help him up; Ransome gave a slight start, and then expressed the warmest satisfaction. 

"Thank Heaven!" said he. "Shake hands, old fellow. I'm downright glad. I've been groaning over you: but I might have known you'd find some wayto slip out of trouble. Mr. Little, this is Shifty himself. Please putyour arm under his; he is as strong as iron, and as slippery as an eel. "

The Shifty, hearing this account given of himself, instantly collapsed, and made himself weak as water, and tottered from one of his guards tothe other in turn. 

"I was all that once, Mr. Ransome, " said he, in a voice that becamesuddenly as feeble as his body, "but this fearful night has changed me. Miraculously preserved from destruction, I have renounced my errors, andvowed to lead a new life. Conduct me at once to a clergyman, that I mayconfess and repent, and disown my past life with horror; then swear mein a special constable, and let me have the honor of acting underyour orders, and of co-operating with you, sir" (to Little), "in yourChristian and charitable acts. Let me go about with you, gentlemen, andrelieve the sufferings of others, as you have relieved mine. "

"There, " said Ransome, proudly; "there's a man for you. He knowsevery move of the game--can patter like an archbishop. " So saying, hehandcuffed the Shifty with such enthusiasm that the convert swore ahorrible oath at him. 

Ransome apologized, and beckoning a constable, handed him the Shifty. 

"Take him to the Town Hall, and give him every comfort. He is NumberOne. "

This man's escape was not so strange as it appeared. The flood neverbombarded his house--he was only on the hem of it. It rose and filledhis house, whereupon he bored three holes in his great chest, and gotin. He washed about the room till the abating flood contracted, and thenit sucked him and his box out of the window. He got frightened, andlet the lid down, and so drifted about till at last he floated into thehands of justice. 

Little and Ransome carried the child away, and it was conveyed to thehospital and a healthy nurse assigned it. 

Ransome prevailed on Little to go home, change his wet clothes and liedown for an hour or two. He consented, but first gave Ransome anorder to lay out a thousand pounds, at his expense, in relief of thesufferers. 

Then he went home, sent a message to Raby Hall, that he was all right, took off his clothes, rolled exhausted into bed, and slept till theafternoon. 

At four o'clock he rose, got into a hansom, and drove up to WoodbineVilla, the happiest man in England. 

He inquired for Miss Carden. The man said he believed she was not up, but would inquire. 

"Do, " said Little. "Tell her who it is. I'll wait in the dining-room. "

He walked into the dining-room before the man could object, and therehe found a sick gentleman, with Dr. Amboyne and a surgeon examining him. The patient lay on a sofa, extremely pale, and groaning with pain. 

One glance sufficed. It was Frederick Coventry. 

CHAPTER XLVII. 

"What! you alive?" said Little, staring. 

"Alive, and that is all, " said Coventry. "Pray excuse me for not dyingto please you. "

Ere Little could reply, Mr. Carden, who had heard of his arrival, lookedin from the library, and beckoned him in. 

When they were alone, he began by giving the young man his hand, andthen thanked him warmly for his daughter. "You have shown yourself ahero in courage. Now go one step further; be a hero in fortitude andself-denial; that unhappy man in the next room is her husband; like you, he risked his life to save her. He tells me he heard the dam was goingto burst, and came instantly with a ladder to rescue her. He was lessfortunate than you, and failed to rescue her; less fortunate than youagain, he has received a mortal injury in that attempt. It was I whofound him; I went down distracted with anxiety, to look for my daughter;I found this poor creature jammed tight between the tree he was uponand a quantity of heavy timber that had accumulated and rested againsta bank. We released him with great difficulty. It was a long time beforehe could speak; and then, his first inquiry was after HER. Show somepity for an erring man, Mr. Little; some consideration for my daughter'sreputation. Let him die in peace: his spine is broken; he can't livemany days. "

Little heard all this and looked down on the ground for some time insilence. At last he said firmly, "Mr. Carden, I would not be inhuman toa dying man; but you were always his friend, and never mine. Let me seeHER, and I'll tell her what you say, and take her advice. "

"You shall see her, of course; but not just now. She is in bed, attendedby a Sister of Charity, whom she telegraphed for. "

"Can I see that lady?"

"Certainly. "

Sister Gratiosa was sent for, and, in reply to Little's anxiousinquiries, told him that Sister Amata had been very much shaken by theterrible events of the night, and absolute repose was necessary to her. In further conversation she told him she was aware of Sister Amata'sunhappy story, and had approved her retirement from Hillsborough, under all the circumstances; but that now, after much prayer to God forenlightenment, she could not but think it was the Sister's duty, as aChristian woman, to stay at home and nurse the afflicted man whose nameshe bore, and above all devote herself to his spiritual welfare. 

"Oh, that is your notion, is it?" said Henry. "Then you are no friend ofmine. "

"I am no enemy of yours, nor of any man, I hope. May I ask you onequestion, without offense?"

"Certainly. "

"Have you prayed to God to guide you in this difficulty?"

"No. "

"Then seek his throne without delay; and, until you have done so, do notrashly condemn my views of this matter, since I have sought for wisdomwhere alone it is to be found. "

Henry chafed under this; but he commanded his temper, though withdifficulty, and said, "Will you take a line to her from me?"

The Sister hesitated. "I don't know whether I ought, " said she. 

"Oh, then the old game of intercepting letters is to be played. "

"Not by me: after prayer I shall be able to say Yes or No to yourrequest. At present, being at a distance from my Superior, I must needshesitate. "

"Right and wrong must have made very little impression on your mind, ifyou don't know whether you ought to take a letter to a woman from a manwho has just saved her life--or not. "

The lady colored highly, courtesied, and retired without a word. 

Little knew enough of human nature to see that the Sister would not prayagainst feminine spite; he had now a dangerous enemy in the house, andforesaw that Grace would be steadily worked on through her religioussentiments. 

He went away, sick with disappointment, jealousy, and misgivings, hireda carriage, and drove at once to Raby Hall. 

CHAPTER XLVIII. 

Mrs. Little saw her son arrive, met him in the hall, and embraced him, with a great cry of maternal joy, that did his heart good for a moment. 

He had to tell her all; and, during the recital, she often clasped himto her bosom. 

When he had told her all, she said: "Much as I love you, darling, I amready to part with you for good: there is a cure for all your griefs;there is a better woman in this house than ever Grace Carden was or willbe. Be a man; shake off these miserable trammels; leave that vacillatinggirl to nurse her villain, and marry the one I have chosen for you. "

Henry shook his head. "What! when a few months perhaps will free myGrace from her incumbrance. Mother, you are giving me bad advice foronce. "

"Unwelcome advice, dear, not bad. Will you consult Dr. Amboyne? hesleeps here to-night. He often comes here now, you know. " Then the widowcolored just a little. 

"Oh yes, I know; and I approve. "

Dr. Amboyne came to dinner. In the course of the evening he mentionedhis patient Coventry, and said he would never walk again, his spine wastoo seriously injured. 

"How soon will he die? that is what I want to know, " said Henry, withthat excessive candor which the polite reader has long ago discovered inhim, and been shocked. 

"Oh, he may live for years. But what a life! An inert mass below thewaist, and, above it, a sick heart, and a brain as sensitive as everto realize the horrid calamity. Even I, who know and abhor the man'scrimes, shudder at the punishment Heaven inflicts on him. "

There was dead silence round the table, and Little was observed to turnpale. 

He was gloomy and silent all the evening. 

Next morning, directly after breakfast, his mother got him, and imploredhim not to waste his youth any longer. 

"The man will never die, " said she: "he will wear you out. You havegreat energy and courage; but you have not a woman's humble patience, to go on, year after year, waiting for an event you can not hasten bya single moment. Do you not see it is hopeless? End your misery by onebrave plunge. Speak to dear Jael. "

"I can't--I can't!"

"Then let me. "

"Will it make you happy?"

"Very happy. Nothing else can. "

"Will it make her happy?"

"As happy as a queen. "

"She deserves a better fate. "

"She asks no better. There, unless you stop me, I shall speak to her. "

"Well, well, " said Henry, very wearily. 

Mrs. Little went to the door. 

"Wait a moment, " said he. "How about Uncle Raby? He has been a goodfriend to me. I have offended him once, and it was the worst job I everdid. I won't offend him again. "

"How can you offend him by marrying Jael?"

"What, have you forgotten how angry he was when Mr. Richard Rabyproposed to her? There, I'll go and speak to him. "

"Well, do. "

He was no sooner gone than Mrs. Little stepped into Jael's room, andtold her how matters stood. 

Jael looked dismayed, and begged her on no account to proceed: "For, "said she, "if Mr. Henry was to ask me, I should say No. He would alwaysbe hankering after Miss Carden: and, pray don't be angry with me, but Ithink I'm worth a man's whole heart; for I could love one very dearly, if he loved me. "

Mrs. Little was deeply mortified. "This I did NOT expect, " said she. "Well, if you are all determined to be miserable--BE. "

Henry hunted up Mr. Raby, and asked him bluntly whether he would likehim to marry Jael Dence. 

Raby made no reply for some time, and his features worked strangely. 

"Has she consented to be your wife?"

"I have never asked her. But I will, if you wish it. "

"Wish it?"

"Why, sir, if you don't wish it, please forbid it, and let us say nomore at all about it. "

"Excuse me, " said Raby, with his grandest air: "a gentleman may dislikea thing, yet not condescend to forbid it. "

"That is true, sir; and an ex-workman may appreciate his delicacy, andgive the thing up at once. I will die a bachelor. "

"Henry, my boy, give me your hand--I'll tell you the truth. I love hermyself. She is a pattern of all I admire in woman. "

"Uncle, I suspected this, to tell the truth. Well, if you loveher--marry her. "

"What, without her consent?"

"Oh, she will consent. Order her to marry you: she will never disobeythe Lord of the Manor. "

"That is what I fear: and it is base to take advantage of her in thatway. "

"You are right, sir, " said Henry, and ran off directly. 

He found Jael, and said, "Jael, dear, couldn't you like Uncle Raby? heloves you dearly. "

He then appealed to her heart, and spoke of his uncle's nobleness infearing to obtain an unfair advantage over her. 

To his surprise, Jael blushed deeply, and her face softened angelically, and presently a tear ran down it. 

"Hallo!" said Henry. "That is the game, is it? You stay here. "

He ran back to Mr. Raby, and said: "I've made a discovery. She lovesyou, sir. I'll take my oath of it. You go and ask her. "

"I will, " said Raby; and he went to Jael, like a man, and said, "Jael, he has found me out; I love you dearly. I'm old, but I'm not cold. Doyou think you could be happy as my wife, with all the young fellowsadmiring you?"

"Sir" said Jael, "I wouldn't give your little finger for all the youngmen in Christendom. Once I thought a little too much of Mr. Henry, butthat was over long ago. And since you saved my life, and cried overme in this very room, you have been in my head and in my heart; butI wouldn't show it; for I had vowed I never would let any man know myheart till he showed me his. "

In short, this pair were soon afterward seen walking arm in arm, radiantwith happiness. 

That sight was too much for Henry Little. The excitement of doing a kindthing, and making two benefactors happy, had borne him up till now; butthe reaction came: the contrast of their happiness with his misery wastoo poignant. He had not even courage to bid them good-by, but fled backto Hillsborough, in anguish of spirit and deep despair. 

When he got home, there was a note from Grace Carden. 

"MY OWN DEAREST HENRY, --I find that you have called, and been denied me;and that Mr. Coventry has been admitted into the house. 

"I have therefore left Woodbine Villa, and taken lodgings opposite. Sister Gratiosa has convinced me I ought to labor for the eternalwelfare of the guilty, unhappy man whose name it is my misfortune tobear. I will try to do so: but nobody shall either compel, or persuademe, to be cruel to my dear Henry, to whom I owe my life once more, andwho is all the world to me. I shall now be employed nearly all the day, but I reserve two hours, from three till five, when you will always findme at home. Our course is clear. We must pray for patience. 

"Yours to eternity, GRACE. "

After reading this letter, and pondering it well, Henry Little'sfortitude revived, and, as he could not speak his mind to Grace at thatmoment, he wrote to her, after some hours of reflection, as follows:

"MY OWN DEAREST GRACE, --I approve, I bless you. Our case is hard, butnot desperate. We have been worse off than we are now. I agree with youthat our course is clear; what we have got to do, as I understand it, isto outlive a crippled scoundrel. Well, love and a clear conscience willsurely enable us to outlive a villain, whose spine is injured, and whoseconscience must gnaw him, and who has no creature's love to nourish him. 

"Yours in this world, and, I hope, in the next, "HENRY. "

Sister Gratiosa, to oblige Grace stayed at Woodbine Villa. She wasalways present at any interview of Coventry and Grace. 

Little softened her, by giving her money whenever she mentioned a caseof distress. She had but this one pleasure in life, a pure one, and herpoverty had always curbed it hard. She began to pity this poor sinner, who was ready to pour his income into her lap for Christian purposes. 

And so the days rolled on. Raby took into his head to repair the oldchurch, and be married in it. This crotchet postponed his happiness forsome months. 

But the days and weeks rolled on. 

Raby became Sheriff of the county. 

Coventry got a little better, and moved to the next villa. 

Then Grace returned at once to Woodbine Villa; but she still paidcharitable visits with Sister Gratiosa to the wreck whose name she bore. 

She was patient. 

But Little, the man of action, began to faint. 

He decided to return to the United States for a year or two, anddistract his mind. 

When he communicated this resolve, Grace sighed. 

"The last visit there was disastrous, " said she. "But, " recoveringherself, "we can not be deceived again, nor doubt each other's constancyagain. " So she sighed, but consented. 

Coventry heard of it, and chuckled inwardly. He felt sure that in timehe should wear out his rival's patience. 

A week or two more, and Little named the very day for sailing. 

The Assizes came on. The Sheriff met the Judges with great pomp, andcertain observances which had gone out. This pleased the Chief Justice;he had felt a little nervous; Raby's predecessor had met him in acarriage and pair and no outriders, and he had felt it his duty to finethe said Sheriff L100 for so disrespecting the Crown in his person. 

So now, alluding to this, he said, "Mr. Sheriff, I am glad to findyou hold by old customs, and do not grudge outward observances to theQueen's justices. "

"My lord, " said the Sheriff, "I can hardly show enough respect tojustice and learning, when they visit in the name of my sovereign. "

"That is very well said, Mr. Sheriff, " said my lord. 

The Sheriff bowed. 

The Chief Justice was so pleased with his appearance, and his respectfulyet dignified manner, that he conversed with him repeatedly during thepauses of the trials. 

Little was cording his boxes for America when Ransome burst in on him, and said, "Come into court; come into court. Shifty Dick will be updirectly. "

Little objected that he was busy; but Ransome looked so mortified thathe consented, and was just in in time to see Richard Martin, alias LordDaventree, alias Tom Paine, alias Sir Harry Gulstone, alias the Quaker, alias Shifty Dick, etc. , etc. , appear at the bar. 

The indictment was large, and charged the prisoner with various fraudsof a felonious character, including his two frauds on the Gosshawk. 

Counsel made a brief exposition of the facts, and then went into theevidence. But here the strict, or, as some think, pedantic rules ofEnglish evidence, befriended the prisoner, and the Judge objected tocertain testimony on which the prosecution had mainly relied. As for theevidence of coining, the flood had swept all that away. 

Ransome, who was eager for a conviction, began to look blue. 

But presently a policeman, who had been watching the prisoner, came andwhispered in his ear. 

Up started Ransome, wrote the Crown solicitor a line, begging himto keep the case on its legs anyhow for half an hour, and giving hisreason. He then dashed off in a cab. 

The case proceeded, under discouraging remarks from the Judge, most ofthem addressed to the evidence; but he also hinted that the indictmentwas rather loosely drawn. 

At last the Attorney-General, who led, began to consult with his juniorwhether they could hope for a conviction. 

But now there was a commotion; then heads were put together, and, tothe inexpressible surprise of young Little and of the Sheriff, GraceCoventry was put into the witness-box. 

At the sight of her the learned Judge, who was, like most reallygreat lawyers, a keen admirer of beautiful women, woke up, and becameinterested. 

After the usual preliminaries, counsel requested her to look at thatman, and say whether she knew him. 

Grace looked, and recognized him. "Yes, " said she, "it is Mr. Beresford;he is a clergyman. "

Whereupon there was a loud laugh. 

Counsel. "What makes you think he is a clergyman?"

Witness. "I have seen him officiate. It was he who married me to Mr. --"Here she caught sight of Henry, and stopped, blushing. 

"What is that?" said the Judge, keenly. "Did you say that man performedthe marriage ceremony over you?"

"Yes, my lord. "

"When and where was that?"

She gave the time and place. 

"I should like to see the register of that parish. "

"Let me save you the trouble, " said the prisoner. "Your lordship's timehas been wasted enough with falsehoods; I will not waste it further bydenying the truth. The fact is, my lord, I was always a great churchgoer(a laugh), and I was disgusted with the way in which the clergy deliverthe Liturgy, and with their hollow discourses, that don't go home tomen's bosoms. Vanity whispered, 'You could do better. ' I applied for thecuracy of St. Peter's. I obtained it. I gave universal satisfaction; andno wonder; my heart was in the work; I trembled at the responsibility Ihad undertaken. Yes, my lord, I united that young lady in holy matrimonyto one Frederick Coventry. I had no sooner done it, than I began torealize that a clergyman is something more than a reader and a preacher. Remorse seized me. My penitence, once awakened, was sincere. I retiredfrom the sacred office I had usurped--with much levity, I own, but, asheaven is my witness, with no guilty intent. "

The Judge, to Grace. "Did you ever see the prisoner on any otheroccasion?"

Grace. "Only once. He called on me after my marriage. He left the townsoon after. "

The Judge then turned to Grace, and said, with considerable feeling, "It would be unkind to disguise the truth from you. You must petitionParliament to sanction this marriage by a distinct enactment; it isthe invariable course, and Parliament has never refused to make thesemarriages binding. Until then, pray understand that you are Miss Carden, and not Mrs. Coventry. "

The witness clasped her hands above her bead, uttered a loud scream ofjoy, and was removed all but insensible from the box. 

The Judge looked amazed. The Sheriff whispered, "Her husband is agreater scoundrel than this prisoner. "

Soon after this the Judge withdrew to luncheon, and took the Sheriffalong with him. "Mr. Sheriff, " said he, "you said something to me incourt I hardly understood. "

Then Raby gave the Judge a brief outline of the whole story, and, in avoice full of emotion, asked his advice. 

The Judge smiled at this bit of simplicity; but his heart had beentouched, and he had taken a fancy to Raby. "Mr. Sheriff, " said he, "etiquette forbids me to advise you--"

"I am sorry for that, my lord. "

"But humanity suggests--Tell me, now, does this Coventry hold to her?Will he petition Parliament?"

"It is very possible, my lord. "

"Humph! Get a special license, and marry Grace Carden to Henry Little, and have the marriage consummated. Don't lose a day, nor an hour. I willnot detain you, Mr. Sheriff. "

Raby took the hint, and soon found Henry, and told him the advice he hadgot. He set him to work to get the license, and, being resolved to standno nonsense, he drove to Grace, and invited her to Raby Hall. "I am tobe married this week, " said he, "and you must be at the wedding. "

Grace thought he would be hurt if she refused, so she colored a little, but consented. 

She packed up, with many a deep sigh, things fit for a wedding, and Rabydrove her home. He saw her to her room, and then had a conversation withMrs. Little, the result of which was that Henry's mother received herwith well-feigned cordiality. 

Next day Henry came to dinner, and, after dinner, the lovers were leftalone. This, too, had been arranged beforehand. 

Henry told her he was going to ask her a great favor; would she considerall they had suffered, and, laying aside childish delays, be married tohim in the old church to-morrow, along with Mr. Raby and Jael Dence?

Oh, then she trembled, and blushed, and hesitated; and faltered out, "What! all in a moment like that? what would your mother think of me?"

Henry ran for his mother, and brought her into the room. 

"Mother, " said he, "Grace wants to know what you will think of her, ifshe should lay aside humbug and marry me to-morrow?"

Mrs. Little replied, "I shall say, here is a dear child, who has seenwhat misery may spring from delay, and so now she will not coquet withher own happiness, nor trifle with yours. "

"No, no, " said Grace; "only tell me you will forgive my folly, and loveme as your child. "

Mrs. Little caught her in her arms, and, in that attitude, Grace gaveher hand to Henry, and whispered "Yes. "

Next day, at eleven o'clock, the two couples went to the old church, and walked up the aisle to the altar. Grace looked all around. Raby hadeffaced every trace of Henry's sacrilege from the building; but not fromthe heart of her whose life he had saved on that very spot. 

She stood at the altar, weeping at the recollections the place revived, but they were tears of joy. The parson of the parish, a white-haired oldman, the model of a pastor, married the two couples according to the lawof England. 

Raby took his wife home, more majorum. 

Little whirled his prize off to Scotland, and human felicity has seldomequaled his and his bride's. 

Yet in the rapture of conjugal bliss, she did not forget duty and filialaffection. She wrote a long and tender letter to her father, tellinghim how it all happened, and hoping that she should soon be settled, andthen he would come and live with her and her adored husband. 

Mr. Carden was delighted with this letter, which, indeed, was onegush of love and happiness. He told Coventry what had taken place, andcounseled patience. 

Coventry broke out into curses. He made wonderful efforts for a man inhis condition; he got lawyers to prepare a petition to Parliament; hehad the register inspected, and found that the Shifty had married twopoor couples; he bribed them to join in his petition, and inserted in itthat, in consideration of this marriage, he had settled a certainfarm and buildings on his wife for her separate use, and on her heirsforever. 

The petition was read in Parliament, and no objection taken. It wasconsidered a matter of course. 

But, a few days afterward, one of the lawyers in the House, primed by aperson whose name I am not free to mention, recurred to the subject, andsaid that, as regarded one of these couples, too partial a statement hadbeen laid before the House; he was credibly informed that the partieshad separated immediately after the ceremony, and that the bride hadsince been married, according to law, to a gentleman who possessed heraffections, and had lived with him ever since the said marriage. 

On this another lawyer got up, and said that "if that was so, thepetition must be abandoned. Parliament was humane, and would protect anillegal marriage per se, but not an illegal marriage competing with alegal one, that would be to tamper with the law of England, and, indeed, with morality; would compel a woman to adultery in her own despite. "

This proved a knock-down blow; and the petition was dropped, asrespected Frederick Coventry and Grace Little. 

Coventry's farm was returned to him, and the settlement canceled. 

Little sent Ransome to him with certain memoranda, and warned him tokeep quiet, or he would be indicted for felony. 

He groaned and submitted. 

He lives still to expiate his crimes. 

While I write these lines, there still stands at Poma Bridge onedisemboweled house, to mark that terrible flood: and even so, this humansurvivor lives a wreck. "Below the waist an inert mass; above it, araging, impotent, despairing criminal. " He often prays for death. Sincehe can pray for any thing let us hope he will one day pray for penitenceand life everlasting. 

Little built a house in the suburbs leading to Raby Hall. There is aforge in the yard, in which the inventor perfects his inventions withhis own hand. He is a wealthy man, and will be wealthier for he livesprudently and is never idle. 

Mr. Carden lives with him. Little is too happy with Grace to bear maliceagainst her father. 

Grace is lovelier than ever, and blissfully happy in the husband sheadores, and two lovely children. 

Guy Raby no longer calls life one disappointment: he has a loving andprudent wife, and loves her as she deserves; his olive branches arerising fast around him; and as sometimes happens to a benedict of hisage, who has lived soberly, he looks younger, feels younger, talksyounger, behaves younger than he did ten years before he married. He isquite unconscious that he has departed from his favorite theories, inwedding a yeoman's daughter. On the contrary, he believes he has actedon a system, and crossed the breed so judiciously as to attain greaterphysical perfection by means of a herculean dam, yet retain that avitamfidem, or traditional loyalty, which (to use his own words) "is bornboth in Rabys and Dences, as surely as a high-bred setter comes into theworld with a nose for game. "

Mrs. Little has rewarded Dr. Amboyne's patience and constancy. They haveno children of their own, so they claim all the young Littles and Rabys, present and to come; and the doctor has bound both the young women by asolemn vow to teach them, at an early age, the art of putting themselvesinto his place, her place, their place. He has convinced these youngmothers that the "great transmigratory art, " although it comes of itselfonly to a few superior minds, can be taught to vast numbers; and hedeclares that, were it to be taught as generally as reading and writing, that teaching alone would quadruple the intelligence of mankind, and gofar to double its virtue. 

But time flies, and space contracts: the words and the deeds of Amboyne, are they not written in the Amboyniana?

One foggy night, the house of a non-Union fender-grinder was blownup with gunpowder, and not the workman only--the mildest and mostinoffensive man I ever talked with--but certain harmless women andinnocent children, who had done nothing to offend the Union, were allbut destroyed. The same barbarous act had been committed more thanonce before, and with more bloody results, but had led to no largeconsequences--carebat quai vate sacro; but this time there happened tobe a vates in the place, to wit, an honest, intrepid journalist, witha mind in advance of his age. He came, he looked, he spoke to the poorshaken creatures--one of them shaken for life, and doomed now to startfrom sleep at every little sound till she sleeps forever--and theblood in his heart boiled. The felony was publicly reprobated, and withhorror, by the Union, which had, nevertheless, hired the assassins; butthis well-worn lie did not impose on the vates, or chronicler aheadof his time. He went round to all the manufacturers, and asked them tospeak out. They durst not, for their lives; but closed all doors, andthen, with bated breath, and all the mien of slaves well troddendown, hinted where information might be had. Thereupon the vatesaforesaid--Holdfast yclept--went from scent to scent, till he droppedon a discontented grinder, with fish-like eyes, who had been in "manya night job. " This man agreed to split, on two conditions; he was toreceive a sum of money, and to be sent into another hemisphere, sincehis life would not be worth a straw, if he told the truth about theTrades in this one. His terms were accepted, and then he made sometremendous revelations and, with these in his possession, Holdfast wroteleader upon leader, to prove that the Unions must have been guilty ofevery Trade outrage that had taken place for years in the district; butadroitly concealing that he had positive information. 

Grotait replied incautiously, and got worsted before the public. Theablest men, if not writers, are unwise to fence writers. 

Holdfast received phonetic letters threatening his life: he acknowledgedthem in his journal and invited the writers to call. 

He loaded a revolver and went on writing the leaders with a finger onthe trigger. CALIFORNIA! Oh, dear, no: the very center of England. 

Ransome co-operated with him and collected further evidence, and thenHoldfast communicated privately with a portion of the London press, andbegged them to assist him to obtain a Royal commission of inquiry, inwhich case he pledged himself to prove that a whole string of murdersand outrages had been ordered and paid for by the very Unions which hadpublicly repudiated them in eloquent terms, and been believed. 

The London press took this up; two or three members of the House ofCommons, wild, eccentric men, who would not betray their country tosecure their re-election to some dirty borough, sided with outraged law;and by these united efforts a Commission was obtained. The Commissionsat, and, being conducted with rare skill and determination, squeezedout of an incredible mass of perjury some terrible truths, whosediscovery drew eloquent leaders from the journals; these filled simplemen, who love their country, with a hope that the Government of thisnation would shake off its lethargy, and take stringent measures todefend the liberty of the subject against so cruel and cowardly aconspiracy, and to deprive the workmen, in their differences with themasters, of an unfair and sanguinary weapon, which the masters coulduse, but never have as YET; and, by using which, the workmen dothemselves no lasting good, and, indeed, have driven whole trades andmuch capital out of the oppressed districts, to their own great loss. 

That hope, though not extinct, is fainter now than it was. Matters seemgoing all the other way. An honest, independent man, who did honor tothe senate, has lost his seat solely for not conniving at these Tradesoutrages, which the hypocrites, who have voted him out, pretend todenounce. Foul play is still rampant and triumphant. Its victims weresympathized with for one short day, when they bared their wounds to theRoyal Commissioners; but that sympathy has deserted them; they are nowhidden in holes and corners from their oppressors, and have to go byfalse names, and are kept out of work; for odisse quem loeseris isthe fundamental maxim of their oppressors. Not so the assassins: theyflourish. I have seen with these eyes one savage murderer employed athigh wages, while a man he all but destroyed is refused work on allhands, and was separated by dire poverty from another scarred victim, his wife, till I brought them together. Again, I have seen a wholesalemurderer employed on the very machine he had been concerned in blowingup, employed on it at the wages of three innoxious curates. And I findthis is the rule, not the exception. "No punishment but for alreadypunished innocence; no safety but for triumphant crime. "

The Executive is fast asleep in the matter--or it would long agohave planted the Manchester district with a hundred thousand specialconstables--and the globule of LEGISLATION now prescribed to Parliament, though excellent in certain respects, is null in others, would, ifpassed into law, rather encourage the intimidation of one man by twenty, and make him starve his family to save his skin--cruel alternative--andwould not seriously check the darker and more bloody outrages, norprevent their spreading from their present populous centers all overthe land. Seeing these things, I have drawn my pen against cowardlyassassination and sordid tyranny; I have taken a few undeniable truths, out of many, and have labored to make my readers realize those appallingfacts of the day which most men know, but not one in a thousandcomprehends, and not one in a hundred thousand REALIZES, untilFiction--which, whatever you may have been told to the contrary, is thehighest, widest, noblest, and greatest of all the arts--comes to hisaid, studies, penetrates, digests the hard facts of chronicles andblue-books, and makes their dry bones live.