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32X

The Haute Noblesse

A NOVEL.

GEORGE MANVILLE FENN

etc., etc.

monds,''

MONTREAL:

JOHN LOVELL & SON,
23 St. Nicholas Street.

/-«•

' Entered .iccording to Act of Parliament in the year 1889, by
John Lovell 6^ Son, in the office of the Minister of Agricuinre
and Statistics at Ottawa.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

CHAPTER I.

*' IN THE WEST COUNTREE."

" Take care, Mr. Luke Vine, sir. There's a big one com-
ing."

The thin, little, sharp-featured, grey-haired man on a
rock looked sharply round, saw the " big one coming,"
stooped, picked up a large basket, and, fishing-rod in hand,
stepped back and climbed up a few feet, just as a heavy
swell, which seemed to glide along rapidly over the other-
wise calm sea, heaved, llooded the rock, on which he had
been standing, ran right up so high as to bathe his feet,
then sank back in a series of glittering falls which sparkled
in the glorious sunshine ; there was a hissing and sighing
and sucking noise among the rocks, and the wave passed
on along the rugged coast, leaving the sea calm and bright
once more.

" Many a poor lad's been took like that, Mr. Luke, sir,"
said the speaker, " and never heard of again. Why, if I
hadn't called out, it would have took you off your legs,
and the current's so strong here you'd have been swept
away."

" And there'd been an end of me, Polly, and nobody a
bit the worse, eh ? "

The last speaker seemed to fill his sharp, paleface full of
tiny wrinkles, and reduced his eyes to mere slits, as he
looked keenly at the big robust woman at his side. She
was about fifty, but with he. bl?.ck hair as free from grey
as that of a girl, her dark eye s bright, and her sun-tanned
face ruddy with health, as she bent forward with a great
fish-basket supported on her back by means of a broad
leather strap passed over her print sun-bonnet and across
her forehead.

THE HAUTE XOBLESSE.

" Nobody the worse, Mr. lAike, sir ? " cried the woman.
" What a shame to talk hkc that ! You arn't no wife, nor
no child, but there's Miss Louise."

*' Louisa, woman, Louisa," said the fisher sharply.

"Well, Louisa, sir. I only want to be right; but it
was only ycs'day as old Miss Vine, as stood by when I
was selling her some hake, shook her finger at me and said
I was to say Miss Louise."

'* Humph ! Never mind what my sister says. Christ-
ened Louisa. — That ought to fetch 'em."

*' Yes, sir ; that ought to fetch "em," said the woman in
a sing-song way, as the elderly man gave the glistening
bait at the end of his running line a deft swing and sent it
far out into the bright sea. " 1 ve seen the water boiling
sometimes out there with the bass leaping and playing.
What, haven't you caught none, sir } "

" No, Polly, not one ; so just be off about your business,
and don't worry me with your chatter."

" Oh, Lm agoing, sir," said the woman good-humour-
edly ; " only I see you a-fishing, and said to myself,
' maybe Mr. Luke Vine's ketched more than he wants, and
he'd like to sell me some of 'em for my customers.' "

" And I haven't seen a bass this morning, so be off"

" To be sure, Mr. Luke Vine, sir ; and when are you
going to let me come up and give your place a good clean ?
I says to my 'Liza up at your brother's, sir, only yes'-
day "

" Look here, Polly Perrow," cried the fisher viciously,
" will you go, or must I ? "

" Don't be criss-cross, sir, Pm going," said the woman,
giving her basket a hitch. " Here's Miss Louise — isa —
coming down the rocks with Miss Madlin."

" Hang her confounded chatter 1 " snarled the fisher, as
he d. ew out his bait, unwound some more line, and made
another throw, " bad as those wretched stamps."

He cast an angry glance up at the mining works high
on the cliff-side, whose chimney shaft ran along the sloping
ground till it reared ilself in air on the very top of the hill,
where in constant repetition the iron-shod piles rose and fell,
crushing the broken ore to powder. " A man might have
thought he'd be free here from a woman's tongue."

He gave another glance behind him, along the rocky
point ''hich jutted out several hundred yards and formed

THE Il.lVTE XO/U./.SSE,

n natural breakwater to tlie estuary, which ran, rock-shel-
tered, right up into the himl, and on either side of which
were built rugged llights of natural steps, from the bright
water's edge to where, five hundred feet above, the grey
wind-swept masses of granite looked jagged against the
sky.

Tlicn he watched his great painted float, as it ran here
and there in the eddies of the tremendous Atlantic currents
whicn swept along by the ])oint. 'I'he sea s])arkled, the
sun shone, and the grey gulls tloated above the deep blue
transparent water, uttering a (luerulous cry from time to
time, and then dii)ning down at the small shoals of fry
Vr'hich played upon the surface.

Far away seaward a huge vessel was going west, leaving
behind a trail of smoke ; on his right a white-sailed yacht
or two glistened in the sun. In another direction, scat-
tered here and there, brown-sailed luggers were j^assing
slowly along ; while behind the fisher lay the ])icturesque
straggling old town known as East and \\'est Hakemouth,
with the estuary of the little river jjretty well filled with
craft, from tiie fishing luggers and trawlers up to the good-
sized schooners and brigs which traded round the coast
or adventured across the IJay of Storms, by Sj^ain and
through the Straits, laden with cargoes of ]jilchards for the
Italian ports.

" Missed him,'' grumbled the fisher, withdrawing his line
to rebait with a pearly strip of mackerel. '• Humph ! now
T'm to be worried by those chattering girls."

The worry was very close at hand, for directly after
balancing themselves on the rough rocks, and leapmg from
mass to mass, came two briglit-looking girls of about
twenty, their faces flushed by exercise, ai^id more than
slightly tanned by the strong air that blows health-laden
from the Atlantic.

As often happens in real life as well as in fiction, the
companions were dark and fair ; and as they came laugh-
ing and talking, full of animation, looking a couple of as
bonny-looking English maidens as the West Country could
produce, their aspect warranted, in rcjjjv to the greetings
of "Ah, Uncle Luke!" " Ah, Mr. Vine:" something a
little more courteous than —

*' Well, Nuisance? " addressed with a short nod to the
dark girl in white serge, and " Do, Madelaine ? " to the fair
girl in blue.

THE HAUTE XOBLESSE.

The gruffncss gf the greeting seemed to be taken as a
matter of course, for the girls seated tliemsclvcs directly
on convenient masses of rock, and busied themselves in
the governance of sundry errant strands of hair which were
playing in the breeze.

The elderly fisher watched them furtively, and his sour
face seemed a little less grim, and as if there was something
after all ])lcasant to look upon in the bright youthful coun-
tenances before him.

" Well, uncle, liow many fish?" said the dark girl.

" iiah ! and don't chatter, or 1 shall get none at all.
How's dad ? "

"Quite well. He's out here somewhere."

"Dabbling?"

"Ves."

The girl took off her soft yachting cap, and fanned her
face ; then ceased and half closing her eyes and throwing
back her head, let her red lips pnrt slightly as she breathed
in full draughts of the sofi western breeze.

'^ If he ever gives her a moment's pain," said the old
man to himself as he jerked a look up at the m.ining works,
" I'll kill him." Then, turning sharply to the fair girl, he
said aloud : — " Well, Madelainc, how's the bo/i pere ? "

" Quite well and very busy seeing to the lading of the
Coru/ina," said the girl with animation.

" Humph ! Old stupid. Worrying himself to death
money grubbing. Here, Louie, when's that boy going
back to his ])lace ? "

" To-morrow, uncle."

"Good job too. What did he want with a holiday?
Never did a day's ork in his life. Here ! Hold her,
Louie. She's going to peck," he added in mock alarm,
and with a cynical sneering laugh, as he saw his niece's
companion colour slightly, and compress her lips.

" Well, it's too bad of you, uncle. You are always find-
ing fault about Harry."

" Say Henri, pray, my child, and with a good strong
French accent," cried the old man with mock remonstrance.
" What would Aunt ALarguerite say?"

" Aunt Margaret isn't here, uncle," cried the girl
merrily ; " and it's of no use for you to grumble and say
sour things, because we know you by heart, and we don't
believe in vou a bit."

i 'i

THE if.ir ■//■: .w '/.■/ /■:s^;£.

"No," said tl; fislicrinan grimly, *' only hate mc like
poison, for a sour old crab. Never gave me a kiss when
you came."

" How could I without gcttinfj wet? " said the girl with
a glance at the liny rock island on which the t'lslur stood.

I lum

(i(jin[: back tn-moirow. eh

(

i(JC)(

too. \\\\y, he has been a wlu)lc half-year in his post.

I "

Yes, uncle, a whole half-year

" And never stayed two months before at any of the

excellent situations vour father and I worried ourselves

and our friends to death to get for hi

Now, uncle-

A lazy, thoughtless, good-for-nothing young vag-

There, hohl her again, Louie. She's going to jieck.

*' And you deserve it, uncle,'' cried the girl, with a smile
at her companion, in whose eyes the indignant tears were
rising.

*' What I for speaking the truth, and trying to let that
foolish girl see my lord in his right colours?"

"Harry's a good affectionate brother, and I love him
very dearly," said Louise, firmly ; " and he's your brother's
son, uncle, and in your heart, you love him too, and you're
proud of him, as proud can be."

'' You're a silly, young goose, and as feather-brained as
he is. Proud of him ? Bah ! I wish he'd enlist for a
soldier, and get shot."

'' For shame, uncle ! " cried Louise indignantly ; and
her face flushed too as she caught and held her companion's
hand.

" Yes. For shame ! It's all your aunt's doing, stuffing
the boy's head full of fantastic foolery about his descent,
and the disgrace of trade. And now I am speaking, look
here," he cried, turning sharply on the fair girl, and hold-
ing his rod over her as if it were a huge stick which he
was about to use. " Do you hear, Madelaine ? "

" Fm listening, Mr. Vine," said the girl, coldly.

'* Fve known you ever since you were two months old,
and your silly mother must insist upon my taking hold of
you — you miserable little bit of pink putty, as you were
then, and fooled me into being god-father. How I could
be such an ass, I don't know — but I am, and I gave you
that silver cup, and I've wanted it back ever since."

" Oh, uncle, what a wicked story ! " cried Louise, laugh-
ing.

S THE IIAUTK XOJiLESSE,

"It's quite true, miss. Dead waste of money. It has
never been used, I'll swear."

"No, Mr. Vine, never," said Nfadclaine, smiling now.

** Ah, you nt'cd not show your teclh at me because
you're so jjroud tiicy're white. Lots of the lisher-s^irls
have got better. 'I'hat's right, shut your lips up, and listen.
"What I've g(jt to say is this ; if 1 sec any more of that non-
sense there'll be an exjdosion."

" I df)n'tknow what you mean," said Madelaine, colour-
ing more dee])ly.

*' Ves, you do, miss. I saw Harry ])ut his arm round
your waist, and I won't have it. What's your father think-
ing al)Out? Why, tliat boy's no more fit to be your hus-
band than tliat great, ugly, long brown-bearded Scotchman
who poisons the air with his coj)per mine, is to be Louie's."

** Uncle, you are beyond bearing to-day."

"Am I? \Vell tlien be off. Hut you mind. Miss
Maddy, I won't liave it. You'll be silly enough to marry
some day, I'Ut when you do, you shall marry a man, not a
feather-headed voung ass, with no more brains than that
bass. Ah, I've got you this time, have I ? "

He had thrown in again, and this time struck and hooked
a large fish, whose struggles he watched with grim satis-
faction, till he drew it gasj)ing and quivering on to the
rock — a fine bass, whose silver sides glistened like those
of a salmon, and wliose sharp back fin stood up ready to
cut the unwitting hand.

" J)ad for liim, Louie," said the old man with a laugh ;
** but one must have dinners, eh ? ^Vhat a countenance 1"
he continued, holding up his fish, " puts me in mind of
that fellow you have up at the house, what's his name,
Priddle, Fiddle?"

" Pradelle, uncle."

" Ah, Pradelle. Of course he's going back too."

"Yes, uncle."

" Don't like him," continued Uncle Luke, rebaiting
quickly and throwing out j " that fellow has got scoundrel
written in his face."

"For shame! Mr. Vine," said Madelaine, laughing.
"Mr. Pradelle is very gentlemanly and pleasant."

" Good-looking scoundrels always are, my dear. But
he don't want vou. I watched him. Going to throw
over the Scotchman ard t;ike to Miss Louie?"

TifE ii.ir'i !■: xoiu.r.ssE,

((

Unrlc, you'vf .i^nt ;i l»iti'," said tlu" girl coolly.

" I'-h ? So I havo. (lot him, too," said the old man,
sirikini,' and playing his fish just as if he were angling in
fresh water. " Tliumper."

"What i)leasnrc can it give you to say such unpleasant
things, uncle?'' continued the girl.

" 'I'rulhs always are uni)l('asaiit," said the old man, laugh-
ing. " Don't bother me, there's a shoal off the iKjint now,
and I shall get some fish."

" Why you have all you want now, uncle."

'' Rubbish I Shall get a few shillingsworth to sell Mother
Perrow."

" Poor LTncle Luke I " said the girl with mock solemnity ;
"obliged to fish for his living."

" Better than idling and doing nothing. I like to do it,
and There he is again. Don't talk."

He hooked and landed another fine bass from the shoal
which had come up with the tide that ran like a millstream
off the i)oint, when as he placed the fish in the basket he
raised his eyes.

" Yah ! (io back and look after your men. I thought
that would be it. Maddy, look at her cheeks."

" Oh, uncle, if i did not know you to be the best and
dearest of "

" Tchah ! Carney!" he cried, screwing up his face.
'* Look here, I want to catch a few fish and make a little
money, so if that long Scot is coming courting, take him
somewhere else. ]>e off! "

" If Mr. Duncan Leslie is coming to say good-day, uncle,
I see no reason why he should not say it here," said Louise,
calmly enough now, and with the slight flush which had
suffused her cheeks fading out.

"Good-day. A great tall sheepish noodle who don't
know when he's well off," grumbled the fisher, throwing
out once more as a tall gentlemanly-looking young fellow
of about eight-and-twenty stepped actively from rock to
rock till he had joined the group, raising his soft tweed
hat to the ladies and shaking hands.

" ^Vhat a lovely morning!" he said eagerly. "I saw
you come down. Much sport, Mr. Vine ? " he added, as
he held out his hand.

" No," said Uncle Luke, nodding and holding tightly on
to his rod. " Hands full. Can't you see ? "

THE IfArTF. XOPLESSn.

" Oh, yes, I see. One at yen now."

" Thankye. 'riiink I couldn't see?" said the oid man,
striking and missing his fish. " Very kind of you to come
and sec how I was getting on."

" But I didn't," said the new-comer, smiling. *' I knew
you didn't want me."

•* Here, Louie, make a note of that," said Uncle Luke,
sharply. " The Scotch are not so dense as they pretend
they are."

" Uncle ! "

" Oh, pray, don't interpose, Miss Vine. Your uncle and
I often have a passage of arms together."

** Well, say what you've got to say, and then go back to
your men. Has the vein failed? "

" No, sir ; it grows richer every day."

" Sorry for it. I suppose you'll be burrowing under my
cottage and burying me one of these days before my time ? "

" Don't be alarmed, sir."

" I'm not," growled Uncle Luke.

*' Uncle is cross, because he is catching more fish than
he wants this morning," said Louise quietly.

"Hear that, jMaddy, my dear?" said the old man,
sharply. *' Here's a problem for you : — If my niece's
tongue is as keen-edged as that before she is twenty, what
will it be at forty ? "

The girl addressed laughed and shook her head.

" Any one would think it would be a warning to any
sensible man to keep his distance."

" Uncle 1 Pray ! " whispered the niece, looking troubled ;
1)ut the old man only chuckled and hooked another fish.

" Going to nieake a fortune out of the old mine, Leslie ? "
he said.

*' Fortune ? No, sir. A fair income, I hope."

" Which with prudence anl economy — Scottish prudence
and economy — " he added, meaningly, " would keep you
when you got to be an old man like me. Bah ! "

He snatched out his line and gave an impatient stamp
with his foot.

*' What is the matter, uncle ? "

"V/hat's the matter? It was bad enough before.
Look there 1 "

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

CHAPTER II.

ELEMENTS OF A WHOLE.

Madelaine Van Hkt,dre had seen the object of Uncle
Luke's vexation before he called attention to it ; and at
the fust glance her eyes had lit up with pleasure, but only
to give place to an anxious, troubled look, and faint lines
came across her brow.

*• Why, it is only Harry with his friend," said Louise
quietly.

"Yes : flopping and splashing about in the boat. There
will not be a li.ih left when thcv've done."

" I'll tell them to land at the lower stairs," said Louise
eagerly.

" No ; let 'cm come and do their worst," said the old
man, with quite a snarl. '• \\'hy doesn't Harry row, instead
of letting that miserable cockney fool about with an oar?"

" Miserable cockney ! " said I3uncan Leslie to himself;
and his face, which had been overcast, brightened a little
as he scanned the boat coming from the harbour.

" Mr. Pradelle likes exercise," said Louise quietly.

Duncan's face grew dull again.

'•Then I wish he would take it in London," said the old
man, "jumping over his desk or using liis pen, and not
come here."

The water glistened and sparkled with the vigorous
strokes given by the two young men who pro])er':'d the
boat, and quickly after there was a grating noise as the
bows ground against the rocks A the point and a young man
in white flannels lca])ed ashore, while his com])anion after
awkwardly la}'ing in his oar followed the example, balanc-
ing himself as he stepped on to the gunwale, and then
after the fashion of a timid horse at a gutter, making a
tremendous bound on to the rocks.

As he did this his companion made a quick leap back
into the bows to seize the chain, when he had to put out
an oar once more and paddle close up to the rock, the

'HIE IjAUTE XOni.ESSE,

boat liaving been sent adrift Ijy the force of the other's
leap.

" What a fellow you arc, Pradcllc ! " he said, as he
jum])cd on to a rock, and twisted the chaiii about a block.

" Very sorry, dear boy. Didn't think of that."

" No," said the first sourly, " you didn't."

He was a well-knit rn;inly fellow, singularly like his
sister, while his companion, whom he had addressed as
Prndellc. seemed to be his very o])posite in every way,
though on the whole better looking ; in fact, his f atures
were remarkably handsome, or would have been had they
not been rnarred by his eyes, which were set close logedier,
and gave him a shifty look.

" How are you, uncle? How do, Leslie? " said Harry,
as he stood twirling a gold locket at the end of his chain,
to receive a grunt from the fisherman, and a friendly nod
from the young mine-owner. ''So here you are tlien," lie
continued; "we've been lookiiig for you eve:ywl:ere.
You saitl you were going along th.e west walk."

*' Yes, but we saw uncle fisJnng, and came down lo him."

"Well, come along now."

''Come? Where?"

"Come where? Why for a sail. Wind's just light.
Jump in."

Dunc-an Leslie looked grave, but he brightened a little
as he heard what followed.

*' Oh no, LLirry."

As she spoke, Louise Vine glanced at her companion, in
whose face she read an eager look of acquiescence in tlie
prO|.osed trip, which changed instantly to one of agreement
with her ne!.:ative.

" There, Wa. Told you so. Taken all our trouble for
nothing."

" lUu, LLirry "

" Oh, all riglit," he cried, interru])ting her, in an ill-used
tone. " just lil:e girls. Here's our last day before we go
back to tlie confounded grindstone. AVe've got the boat,
the weather's lovelv ; we've been looking for vou everv-
where, and it's ' Oli no, ILirry ! ' And Madelaine looking
as if it would be too shocking to go for a sail."

"We don't like to desappoint you," said Madelaine,
" but ''

*' But you'd rather stay ashore," said the young man

THE IIA^/rr. XOBI.ESSF,

shortly. " Never mind, Vic, old chap, we'll go alone, and
have a good smoke. Cheerful, isn't it? 1 say, Uncle
Luke, }-ou're quite ri;;ht."

" First time you ever thought so then." said the old man
shortly.

'•Perhaps Miss Vine will reconsider her determination,"
said the young man's companion, in a low soft voice, as he
went toward Louise, and seemed to Duncan Leslie to be
throwing all tlie ])ersuasion i)ossil)le into his manner.

"Oh, no, thank you, Mr. Tradelle," siie replied hastily,
and Duncan Leslie once more felt relieved and yet pained,
for tl.erc was a peculiar consciousness in hei manner.

" \Ve had brought som: cans v/ith us and a hammer and
chisel," continued Pradclle. " Harry thought we might go
as far as the gorns."

" Zorns, man," cried Harry.

'- I beg pardon, zorns, and get a few specimens for Mr.
Vine."

" It was very kind and thoughttul of Harry," said Louise
hastily, " and we are sorry to disappoint him — on this his
last day — but "

*' P>lessed but /" said Harry, with a sneer ; and he gave
Madelaine a withering look, which made her bite her lip.

** And the fish swarming round tlie i)oint," said Uncle
Luke impatiently. " Wliy don't you go with them, girls? "

" Right again, uncle," said Harry.

The old man made him a mocking bow.

''Go, uncle?" said Louise eagerly, and then checking
herself.

Duncan Leslie's heart sank like an ingot of his own
copper dro])ped in a tub.

"Yes, go."

" If you think so, uncle "

''Well, I do," he said testily, "only pray go at once."

" There ! " cried LLirry. " Come, ALiddy."

He held out his hand to his sister's companion, but she
hesitated, still looking at Louise, whose colour was going
and coming as she saw Pradclle take off his cap and follow
his friend's example, holding out his hand to help her into
the boat.

" Yes, dear," she said to ALidelaine gravely. " They
would be terril)ly disajipointed if we did not go."

The next moment Madelaine was in the boat, Louise

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

Still hanging back till, feeling that it would be a slight
worse than the refusal to go if she ignored the help extended
to her, she laid her hand in Pradelle's and stepped off the
rock into the gently rising and falling boat.

" Another of my mistakes," said Duncan Leslie to him-
self; and then he started as if some one had given him
an electric shock.

" Hullo ! " cried the old man, " You're going too? "

<*I? going?"

" Yes, of course ! To take care of them. I'm not going
to have them set off without some one to act as ballast to
those boys."

Louise mentally cast her arms round the old man's neck
and kissed him.

Harry, in the same manner, kicked his uncle into the
sea, and Pradelle's eyes looked closer together than usual,
as he turned them upon the young mine owner.

" I should only be too happy." said the latter, " if "

" Oh, there's plenty of room, Mr. Leslie," cried the girls
in duet. " Pray come."

The invitation was so genuine that Leslie's heart seemed
to leap.

" Oh, yes, plenty of room," said Harry, " only if the wind
drops, you'll have to pull an oar."

" Of course," said Leslie, stepping in.

Harry raised the boat-hook, and thrust the little vessel
away, and then began to step the mast.

" Lay hold of the rudder, Leslie," he cried. "Send us
up some, fish for tea, uncle."

"I'll wait and see first whether you come. back," said
the old man. "Good-bye, girls. Don't be uneasy. I'll
go and tell the old people if you're drowned."

" Thank you," shouted back the young man as he hoisted
the little sail, which began to fill at once, and by the time
he had it sheeted home, the boat was swiftly running
eastward with the water pattering against her bows, and a
panorama of surpassing beauty seeming to glide slowly by
Ihem on the left.

" There 1 " cried Harry to his friend, who had seated
himself rather sulkily forward, the order to take the tiller
having placed Leslie between Louise and Madelaine.
" Make much of it, Vic : Paddington to-morrow night,
hansom cab or the Underground, and next morning the
office. Don't you feel happy ? "

THE IIACTK X0BIJ:SSE,

»S

** Yes, now," said Pradelle, with a glance at Louise.

"Easy, Leslie, easy," cried Harry; "where are you
going ? "

" I beg pardon," said the young man hastily, for he had
unwittingly changed the course of the boat.

" That's better. Any one would think you wanted to
gi^c Uncle Luke the job he talked about."

Madelaine looked u[) hastily.

" No ; we will not: do that. Miss Van Heldre," said
Leslie smiling. " Shall I hold the sheet, Vine ?"

'• No need," said the young man, making the rope
fast.

'• But "

" Oh, all right. I know what you're going to say — puff
of wind might lay us over as we pass one of the combes.
Wasn't born here for nothing."

Leslie said no more, but deferred to the opinion of the
captain of the boat.

" Might as well have brought a line to trail. You'd
have liked to fish, wouldn't you, Vic ? "

" Only when we are alone," said Pradelle. *' Can you
tell me the name of tl^at point, Miss Vine? "

" lirea," said Louise quietly.

" And that little valley ? "

" Tol Du. The old Cornish names must sound strange
to any one from London."

" c3h, no," he said, bending forward to engage her in
conversation. ** This place is very interesting, and I shall
regret going," he added with a sigh, and a thoughtful look
toward the picturesque little group of houses on either side
of the estuary.

" I should think you will," said Harry. *' Never mind,
we've had a very jolly time. I say, Maddy " he whispered,
•' you will write to a fellow, won't you ? "

*' No," she said quietly ; " there is no need."

" No need ? "

" Louie will be writing to you every week, and you will
answer her. I shall hear how you are getting on."

Harry whistled and looked angrily at his sister, who was
replying to some remark made by Leslie.

" Here, Vic," he said, " she's too heavy forward. Come
and sit by my sister. That's better. A little more over
to the side, Leslie. Always trim your boat."

THE irAVTF. KOIU.ESSE.

The changes were made, and the httle yawl sped ra])idly
on past llie hradlau^l (jf grey granite lioary and shaggy
with moss ; past hiack frowning masses of slaty shale,
over and amongst wliicli tlie waves broke in sj)arkling foam,
and on and on by ferny liollows and rifts, down which
trickled tiny streams. 'Die day was glorious, and the
reilection of the sapjthire sky dyed the sea tint of a blue
that seemed amethystine in its richer transi)arent hue.
The grey gulls lloated overliead, and the tiny fish they
pursued made tlie sea ilash as they played about and shoivcd
their silvery sides.

But the conversation flagged. Possibly the fact of its
being the last day of a pleasant sojourn acted ujjon the
s])irits of two of the ])arty, while the third of the male
occu])ants of the boat rather welcomed the restraint and
silence, for it gave him an opportunity to sit and think and
wonder what was to be his future, and what the animated
countenance of J.ouise Vine meant as she answered the
questions of her brother's friend.

He was a visitor as well as lier brother's comi)anion : he
had been staying at Mr. Vine's for a fortnight. They had
had endless opportunities for conversation and — in
short, Duncan T.jslie felt uncomfortable.

It Vv'as then with a feeling of relief that was shared by
both the ladies, that after a few miles' run Henry \'ine
stood up in the l)ows, and, kee})ing a sharp look out for
certain rocks, shouted his orders to Leslie as to the steer-
ing of the boat, and finally, as they neared the frowning
cliffs, suddenly lowered the sail and took up the oars.

They were abreast of a large cave where the swift grey-
winged pigeons Hew in and out over the swelling waves
which seemed to glide slowly on and on, to rush rapidly
after the birds and disai)pear in the gloom beneath the
arch. Then there was a low echoing boom as the wave
struck far away in the cave, and came back hissing and
v.'hispering to be merged in the next.

" Going to row close in?" said Leslie, scanning the
weird, forbidding place rather anxiously.

" Going to row right in," said Harry, with a contemptu-
ous smile. " Not afraid, are you ? "

" Can't say," replied Leslie. " A little perhaps. 7'he
place does not look tempting. Do you think it is safe to
go in ? "

THE IIAVTE XO PL ESSE.

»7

ine

er-

" Tiikc to land on the rock till wc comeback?" said
Harry instead of answering the question.

'' No,"' said Leslie fjuietly ; " but do you thii.k it wise to
row in iherc ? "'

" You're not afraid, are you, girls ? "

" I always feel nervous till wc are outside again," said
Louise quietly.

JUit you will be very careful, Harry," said ^Lade-

laine.

"Think I want to drown myself?" he said bitterly.
" I might just as well p'raps, as go back to that dismal
office in Loudon, to slave from morning till night."

He rested U{

>on

IS oars for a minute or two. anc

perha])s from the reflection of the masses of ferns wh'ch
fringed the arch of the cavern, and which were repeated
in the clear waters, Victor Pradelle's face seemed to
turn of a sickly green while one hand grasped the edge of
the boat with spasmodic force.

" Now them, hold tight," said the rower, as a swell came
from seaward, running right m and raising the boat so
that by skilful management she was borne forward, right
beneath the arch and then away into the depths of the
cavern, leaving her rocking upon the watery floor, while it
sped on away into the darkness where it broke with a
booming noise which echoed, and whisj^ered, and died
away in sobs and sighs, and strange hisses and gasps, as if
the creatures which made the cavern their lair had been
disturbed, and were settling down again to sleep.

'' There, Vic," cried Harry, " what do you think of
this?"

Pradelle was holding tightly by the side of the boat, and
gazing uneasily round.

" Think ? Yes : very wild and wonderful," he said
huskily.

" Wonderful ? I should think it is. Goes in ever so
far, only it isn't wide enough for the boat."

liCslie looked back at the mouth, fringed with the fronds
of ferns, and at the lovely picture it framea of sunny
amethystine sea ; then at the rocky sides, dripping with
moisture, and here of a rich metallic green, there covered
with glistening weed" of various shades of olive green and
brown.

*' Ahoy — oy I " shouted Harry with all his might, and
at the same moment he let his oars splash in the water.

THE HAUTE XOBLESSE.

1 1

Pradclle leaped to liis feet ar, there cnme a strange echo
and a whirring rush, and a dozen ])igcons swept i)ast their
heads from out of the depths of the water cave, and away
into the briUiant sunsliine.

*' Oh, if I had a gun," cried Pradelle, to hide his con
fusion.

" What for — to make a miss ? " sneered Harry. " Now
then, out with those cans. Fill every one, and I'll try and
knock off a few anemones for the governor."

As he sjjoke he laid in his oars, picked a hammer and
chisel from out of the locker in the forepart of the boat,
and then worked it along by the side of the great cave, as
from out of the clefts and crannies above and beneath the
water he searched for the semi-gelatinous sea an(moncs
that clustered among barnacles, and the snail-like whorl
molluscs whose home was on the weedy rocks.

The girls aided all they could, jjointing out and receiving
in the tins a many-rayed creature, which closed uj) till it
resembled a gout of blood ; now, still adhering to the rock
which Harry chipped off, a beautiful y^(7.'«/<? of olive-green
with gem-like spots around the mouth and amid its fringe
of tunpioise blue.

Duncan Leslie eagerly lent his help ; and, not to be
behindhand, Pradelle took up the boat-hook and held on,
but with the smoothness and care of a sleek tom-cat, he
carefully avoided wetting his hands.

" Nothing very new here," said Harry at last, as the
waves that ke})t coming in made the boat rise and fall
gently; "there's another better cave than this close by.
Let's go thc-e ; or what do you say to stoj^ping here and
having a smoke till the tide has risen and shut us in?"

" Is there any risk of that? " said Pradelle anxiously.

" Oh, yes, plenty."

Leslie glanced at I^ouise and thought that it would be
very pleasant to play ])rotector all through the darkness
till the way was open and daylight shone again. He caught
her eyes more than once and tried to read them as he
wondered whether there was hope for him ; but so surely
as she found him gazing rather wistfully at her, she hur-
riedly continued the collecting, pointing out one of the
beautiful objects they sought beneath the surface, and ask-
ing Pradelle to shift the boat a little farther along.

"All my vanity and conceit," said Leslie to himself

THE IIAVTi: XOnr F.SSF..

»9

on,
,he

the

fall

c by.

and

with a sigh ; " and why should I worry myself about a
woman ? 1 Ikivc jiknty to do without thinking of love and
marriage. If i did, why not begin to dream about
pleasant, straightforward Madclainc Van Ilcldre? There
can be nothing more than a friendly feeling towards Master
Harry here."

*' Now then, sit fast," cried the latter object of his
thoughts; *' and if we arc capsized, girls, I'll look after
you, Maddy. Pradelle here will swim out with Louie,
and I shall leave you to bring out the boat, Leslie. You
can swim, can't you ? "

"A little," said the yc ng man drily.

Pradelle looked rather more green, for the light within
the cave was of a peculiar hue, and he began to think un-
easily of bathing out of a machine at Margate, holding on
to a rope, and also of the effort he once made to swim
across a tepid bath in town, lUit he laughed heartily
directly after as he realised that it was all banter on his
friend's part, while, in spite of himself, he gave a sigh of
relief as, riding out on the crest of a broken wave, they once
more floated in the sunshine.

Ten minutes' careful rowing among the rocks, which
were now four or five feet beneath the water, now showing
their weedy crests above, brought them to the mouth of
another cave, only approachable from the sea, and sending
the boat in here, the collection went on till it was deemed
useless to take more specimens, when they passed out
again, greatly to Pradelle's satisfaction.

" IIow's time ? " said Plarry. " Half-past four? Plenty
of time. High tea at six. What shall we do — sail right
out and tack, or row along here in the smooth water among
the rocks ? "

" Row slowly back," said Louise : and Pradelle took an
oar.

At the end of half a mile he ceased rowing.

*' Tired ? " said Harry.

" No ; I have a blister on my hand ; that's all."

** Come and pull, Leslie," said Harry. "You'd better
steer, Louie, and don't send us on to a rock."

The exchange of places was made, and once more they
began to progress with the boat, travelling far more swiftly
as they glided on close in to the mighty cliff which rose up
overhead, dap])]cd with mossy grey and patches of verdure,
dotted with yellow and purple blooms.

TifE Ji.irri: xo in. esse.

** To go on like tliis for ever ! " lliought Leslie as he
swung to and fro, his strong muscles making the water
foam as he dipped his oar, watching Louise as slu' steered,
and seemed troubled and ready to converse witli ]'radellc
whenever she caught his eye.

" Starn all!" shouted Harry suddenly, as about three
miles from hc)me they came abreast of a narrow opening
close to the su 'face of the water.

'I'he way of the boat was checked, and Harry looked at
the hole into which the tide ran and ebbed as the swell
rose and fell, now nearly covering the ojjening, now leaving
it three or four feet wide.

" Bound to say there arc plenty of good specimens in
there," he said. " What do you say, Vic, shall we go in ? "

** Lnpossible."

" Not it. Bound to say that's the opening to quite a
large zorn. I've seen the seals go in there often."

"Has it ever been explored?" said Leslie, who felt
interested in the ])lace.

*' No ; it's nearly always covered. It's only at low
tides like this that the opening is bared. If the girls were
not here I'd go in."

" How ? " said Pradellc.

" How ? — why swim in."

'* And be shut nj) by the tide and drowned," said Louise.

*' Good thing too," said Harry, with the same look of a
spoiled boy at Madelaine. " I don't find life go very jolly.
Boat wouldn't pass in there."

He had risen from his seat and was standing with one
foot on the gunwale, the other on the thwart, gazing
curiously at the dark orifice some forty yards away, the
boat rising and falling as it swayed here and there on the
waves, which ran up tu *he fiice of the cliff and back,
when just as the attention of all was fixed upon the little
opening, from which came curious hissing and rushing
noises, the boat rose on a good-.?ized swell, and as it sank
was left upon the top of a weedy rock which seemed to
rise like the shaggy head of a huge sea monster beneath
the keel.

There was a bump, a grinding, grating noise, a shout
and a heavy sj)lash, and the boat, after narrowly esc.a})ing
being capsized, iloated once more in deep water ; but
Harry had lost his bahmcc, goiie overboard, and disap-
peared.

TIIK IIAI'TJ: XOni.ESSE,

Madchiiih,' uttered a rry of liorror, and tlien Tr a few
moiiK'iits ilicrc was a dra^l .siIlmicc. duritiL; which I/)iiiso
s;it v.ilh blanched face, parted lips, and dilated eyes, pa/.ing
at the spot where her l)rothcr had (lisai)])eared. J'nidellc
held on by the side of tlie boat, and Leslie spran;^ up,
rapidly stripped off coat and vest, and stood ready to
])lunge in.

'I'hose moments seemed indefinitely proloni^'ed, :ind a
terril)le feeling of despair began to attack the oceui)anls of
the bont as thought after thought, cuch of the l)lackest
type, llar.hcd through their brains. lie had been sucked
down by the undertow', and was l^eing carried out to sea —
he was entangled in the sliniv sea wrack, and could not
rise again — he had struck his head against the rocks,
stunned himself, and gone down like a stone, and so on.

Duncan Leslie darted one glance at the ])ale and suffer-
ing face of the sister, ])laced a foot on the gunwale, and
was in the act of gathering himself up to spring from the
boat, when Marry's head rose thirty }-ards away.

*' A-lioy I '' he shouted, as he began to ])addle and tre.td
water. "Hallo, Leslie, rjady f^jrabathe.'* Come out !
Water's beautiful. Swim you ba'k to the harbour."

There was a long-drawn breath in the boat which
sounded like a groan, as the tjrril^le mental pressu e was
removed, and tlie young man l)egan to swim easily and
tdowly toward:; his friciids.

" ^[ind she doesn't get on anotlicr rock, Leslie," he cried.

"Here, catch hold of this," cried I'ladelle, whose face
was ashy, and he held out the boat-hook as far as he could
reach.

"Thank ye," said I Larry mockingly, and twenty yards
away. " Little farther, please. V.'hat a lovely day for a
swim ! "

" Harry, pray come into the boat," cried Louise ex-
citedly.

" What for ? ]\[ind the porpoise."

He gave a few sh.arp blows on th.e water with his hands,
raising himself up and turning right over, dived, his legs
just appearing above the surface, and then there was an
eddy where he had gone dov.n.

" Don't be frightened," v.Iiispered Madelaine, whose
voice sounded a little husky.

"Here we are agiin!" cried Harry, reappearing close

Tin: iLir'j'j-: xoj^'ij:ssi\

to the boat and spluttering the water from his llj)s, as with
all the gaiety of a l)uy he looked niirtlifuily at ih',- oc:ciij)ant8
of the boat. " Any orders for jjcarls, Indies? "

"Don't be foolish, Harry," said Louise, as he swam
close to them.

" Not going to be. I say, Leslie, take the boat-hook
away from that fellow, or he'll be making a hole in the
bottom of the boat."

As he spoke, he laid a hand upon the gunwale and
looked merrily from one to the other.

'* Don't touch me, girls. I'm rather damp," he said.
** I say, what a capital bathing dress llanncls make ! "

"Shall I help you in ? " said Leslie.

" No, thank ye, I'm all right. As I am in, I may as
well have a swim."

*' No, no, PLarry, don'l be foolish," cried Louise.

" 'J'here, you'd better hitch a rope round me, and toW
me behind, or I shall swam]) the boat."

" LLarry ! what are you t':oing to do ? " cried Madelainc,
as he loosened his Iiold of the gunwale, and began to swim
away.

"Wait a bit and you'll see," he cried. "Leslie, you
take care of the boat. 1 shan't be long."

"But Harry '

"All right, I tell you."

" Where are you going ? "

" In here," he shouted back, and he swam straight to
the low opening at the foot of the massive granite cliff,
paddled a little at the moutii till the efllux of water was
over, and then as the fresh wave came, he took a iitw
strokes, gave a shout, and to the horror of tl>e two girls
seemed to be sucked right into the opening.

As he disappeared, he gave another shout, a hollow
strange echoing " dood-bye," and a few moments after
there was a run back of the water and a hollow roar, and
it needed very little exercise of the imagination to picture
the rugged opening as the mouth of some marine monster
into which the young man had passed.

Till iLirrr mn^i.nssii.

Cir.M'TKR HI.

DISCORDS.

*' L'^n't be alarmed," said Leslie quietly, " I daresay it is
like one of the zorns yonder, only the mouth is too narrow
for a boat."

\\\\\. it is so foolish," said Louise, giving him a grateful

look.

'• \'es, but he swinis so easily and well, there is nothing
to mind. What are you going to do, Mr. Pradelle ? "

" Work the boat close up so as to help him," said Pra-
delle slu)rlly

xVo, don't do that. We h

had

from

,, v.>... w viv I..CW.. ,,v- iMwv. ..civ. one cscn
capsize. We must keep out here in deep water."

Pradelle frowned.

" I think 1 know what Pm about, sir," he said sharply ;
•* do you supj)ose I am going to sit here when my friend
may be i.i danger ? "

" I have no doubt you know what you are about in
London, sir," said Leslie quietly, '' but this is not a j)ave-
ment in the Strand, and it is not safe to take the boat
closer in."

Pradelle was about to make some retort, but Louise
interposed.

" Try if you can get nearer the mouth of that dreadful
place, Mr. Leslie," she said, *' 1 am getting terribly
alarmed."

Leslie seated himself, took the oars, turned the boat,
and backed slowly and cautiously in, holding himself ready
to pull out again at the slightest appearance of danger.
For the sea rushed against the rocky barrier with tremen-
dous force, while even on this calm day, the swing and
wash and eddy amongst the loose rocks was formidable.

]U' skilful management Leslie backed the boat to within
some thirty feet of the opening ; but the position was so
perilous that he had to pull out for a few yards to avoid a
couple of rocks, which in the movement of the clear water

THE rr.trTF. .vonr.F.ssr..

seemed to be risiiii^ toward tlicni from time to lime, and
coming jjcrilously near.

Then lie sliouted. but there was no answer. He shouted
again and again, but there was no rejjly, and a chill of
horror, intensifying from moment to moment, came
uj)on all.

*' Harry ! Harry I " cried Louise, now raising her voice,
as Madelaine crept closer to her and clutched her hand.

But there was no reply. No sound but tlie rush and
splash and hiss of the waters as they struck the rocks, and
came back broken from the attack.

" What folly !" muttered Leslie, with jiis face growing
rugged. Then cpiickly, '' I don't think you need feel
alarmed ; I dare say he has swum in for some distance,
and our voices do not reach him. Sto|) a moment."

He suddenly remembered a little gold dog-whistle at his
watch-chain, and raising it to his lips he blew long and
shrilly, till the ear 'piercing note echoed along the cliff, and
the gulls came lloating lazily overhead and peering
wonderingly down.

'' I say, Harry, old man, come out now/' cried Pradelle,
and then rising from his seat, lie placed his hands on
either sid'} of his lii)s, and uttered the best imitation
he could manage of the Australian call, '* Coo-ey I
Coo-ey ! "

There were echoes and whisjjers, and the rush and hiss
of the water. 'I'hen two or three times over there came from
out of the opening a peculiar dull hollow sound, such as
might be made by some ^.^reat atiimal wallowing far within.

"Mr. Leslie,"' said Louise in a low appealing voice,
" what shall we do ? "

" Oh, wait a {(iw minutes, my dear Miss Vine," inter-
posed Pradelle, hastily. " Hell be out directly. 1 assure
you there is no cause for alarm."

Leslie frowned, but his face coloured directly, for his
heart gave a groat throb.

Louise paid not the slightest heed to Pradelle's words,
but kept her limpid eyes fixed a})pealingly upon Leslie's,
as if she looked to him for help.

" I hardly know what to do," he said in a low business-
like tone. " I dare not leave you without some one to
manage the boat, or I would go in."

*' Yes, yes, pray go ! " she said excitedly, " Never
mind us."

THE HAUTE XOBLESSE.

i-ey

itcr-
juro

his

rds,
c's,

to
rer

'' Wc could carh take an oar and keep tlic l)oal licrc,"
said Madelaine quickly, " we can both row."

*' No, really ; I'll manage the l)oat," said Pradelle.

"I think you had better leave it to the ladies, Mr. Pra-
delle," said Leslie coldlv. " 'I'hev know the coast.''

"Well really, sir, I—"

" This is no time for interference," cried Madelaine with
a flush of excitement, and she caught hold of an oar.
" Louie dear, quick ! "

The other oar was resigned, and as Leslie i)assed aft, nc
gave Louise one quick look, reading m her face, as he
believed, trust and thankfulness and then dread.

" No, no, Mr. Leslie, I hardly dare let you go," she
faltered.

Flash!

The boat was rolling and dancing on the surface,
relieved of another burden, and Duncan Leslie was swim-
ming toward the o])ening.

The two girls dii)ped their oars from time to time, for
th^ir seaside life liad given them plenty of experience of
the management of a boat ; and as Pradelle sat looking
sulky and ill-used, they watched the swimmer as he too
timed his movement'^, so that he gradually ajjproached,
and then in turn was sucked right into the weird water-
way, which might lead another into some terrible chasm
from which there was no return.

A low hoarse sigh, as if one had whispered while suffer-
ing pain the word " Hah ! " And then with dilated eyes
the two girls sat watching the black opening for what
seemed a terrible interval of time, before, to their intense
relief, there came a shout of laughter, followed by the
appearance of Leslie, who swam out looking stern, and
closely followed by Harry.

" It is not the sort of fun I can appreciate, Mr. Vine,"
said Leslie, turning as he reached the stern of the boat.

"Well, I know that," cried Harry mockingly. " Scotch-
men never can appreciate a joke."

" There, ladies, what did I tell you ? " cried Pradelle
triumphantly.

There was no reply, and the visitor from London
winc(;d, for his presence in the boat seemed to be thoroughly
de trop.

" Miss Vine — Miss Van Heldre," said Leslie quietly,

THE HAUTE XOBLESSE.

:i I

" will you change ])laces now ? Get right aft and wc will
climb in over the bows."

'•'■ But the l)oat ? " faltered Louise, wposc emotion was
so great that she could hardly trust herself to speak.

" We'll see to that," said Leslie. " Your brother and I
will row back."

It did not seem to trouble him now that the two girls
took their places, one on either side of Pradelle, while as
soon as they were seated he climbed in streaming with
water, seating himself on the gunwale, Harry climbing in
on the other side.

" Harry, how could you ? " cried Louise, now, with an
indignant look.

*' Ivasily enough," he said, seatmg himself calmly.
"Thought you'd lost me? "

He looked at Madelaine as he spoke, but she turned Iior
face away biting her lips, and it was Louise who replied,

•' I did not think you could have been so cruel."

"Cruel be hanged ! " he retorted. " Thought I'd fmd
out whether I was of any consequence after ail You
people seem to say I'm of none. Did they begin to cry,
Vic ? "

" Oh, I'm not going to tell tales," said Pradelle with a
smile.

" I should have had a pipe in there, only my matches
had got wet."

'' Ha-ha-ha ! " laughed Pradelle, and the mirth sounded
strange there beneath the rocks, and a very decided hiss
seemed to come from out of the low rugged opening.

" Try again, Vic," said Harry mockingly ; but his friend
made no reply, for he was staring hard and defiantly at
Leslie, who, as he handled his oar, gave him a calmly con-
temptuous look that galled him to the quick.

" Ready, Leslie ? " said Harry.

"Yes."

The oars dipped, Leslie pulling stroke, and the boat
shot out from its dangerous ])Osition among the rocks, rose
at a good-sized swelling wave, topped it, seemed to hang
as in a balance for a moment, and then glided down and
went forward in response to a few vigorous strokes.

" Never mind the tiller, Vic," said Harry ; " let it swing.
We can manage without tliat. All right, girls ? "

" There was no reply.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

"Sulky, ch ? Well, I'd a good mind to stop in. Sorry

crot. s J wet, Leslie.

Still no reply.

" Cheerful party, 'pon my word ! " said Harry, with a

contempt
smoking.'
He looked

us laugh.

Hope no one objects to my

hard at Madelaine, but she avoided his gaze,

and he uttered a short laujih.

Got a cigar to spare, Vic ? "
Yes, dear boy, certainly."

Pass it along then and the lights. Hold hard a
minute, Leslie."

The latter ceased rowmg as Pradelle handed a cigar and
the matches to his friend.

" Will you take one, Mr. Leslie?" said Pradelle.

" Thank's, no," said Leslie quietly, and to the would-be
donor's great relief, fur he had only two left. Then once
more the rowing was resumed, Pradelle striking a match
to light a cigar for himself, and then recollecting himself
and '.hrowincr the match awav.

" Well, we're enjoying ourselves ! " cried Harry after
they had proceeded some distance in silence. " I say,
Vic, say something ! ''

Pradelle had been cudgelling his brains for the past ten
minutes, but the more he tried to find something a propos
the more every pleasant subject seemed to recede.

In fact it would have been difficult just then for the
most accomplished talker to have set all present at their
ease, for Harry's folly had moved his sister so that she
feared to speak lest she should burst into a hysterical fit
of weeping, antl ^Ladelainc, as sb.e sat there with her lips
compressed, felt imbued with but one desire, which took
the form of the following words :

"Oh, how I should like to box his ears ! "

*' Getting dry, Leslie ? '' said Harry after a long silence.

" Not very," was the reply.

" Ah well, there's no fear of our catching cold pulling
like this."

'* Not the slightest," said Leslie coldly ; then there was
another period of silence, during which the water seemed
to patter and slap the bows of the boat, while the pano-
rama of rock and foam and glittering cascade, as the crags
Were bathed by the Atlantic swell, and it fell back broken.

THE HAUTE XOni.ESSE.

. 1

seemed perfectly fresh and new as seen from anotlier i)oint
of view.

At last Harry, after trying two or tlute times more to
start a conversation, said slioitly —

" Well, this is my last day at home, ar.d I think I ought
to say, ' Thank goodness I ' 'I'h.is is coniing out for a
pleasant sail, and having to row back like a galley-slave !
Oh, I beg your pardon, ladies ! All my mistake. 1 am
highly complimented. All this glumminess is because I
am going away."

He received such a look of reproach that he uttered an
angry ejaculation and began to \)\\\\ so hard that Leslie had
to second his movement to keep the boat's head straight
for the harbour, whose farther ])oint soon after came in
sight, with two figures on the rocks at the end.

" Pai)a along witli Uncle Luke," said Louise softly.

" Eh ? " said' Harry shar})ly ; " the old man still fisliing ? "

" Yes," said Louise ratlier coldly ; "and, ]\Laddy, dear,
is not that Mr. Van Hcldre ? "

Madelaine shaded her eyes from the western sun, where
it was sinking fast, and nodded.

"Where shall we land you?" said Harry sulkily now,
*' at the point, or will you go up tlie harbour? "

" If there is not too mucli sea on, at the point," said
Louise gravely.

" Oh, I dare say we can manage that without wetting
your plumes," said tlie young man contemptuously ; and
after another ten minutes' jjulling diey reached the har-
bour mouth and made for the j)oint, where Uncle Luke
stood leaning on his rod watcliip.g the coming boat, in
company with a tall grey man with refined features, who
had taken off the straw hat he wore to let the breeze play
through his closely cut hair, while from time to time he
turned to speak either to Undo Luke or to the short thick
set man who, with his pointed v/h.itc moustache and
closely cli})ped peaked beard, looked in his loose holland
blouse like a French officer taking his vacation at the sea-
side.

*' Mind how you come," said the latter in a sharp, de-
cided way. " Watch your time, Leslie. Back in, my lad.
Can you manage it, girls ? "

*' Oh, yes," they cried confidently.

"Sit still then till tl.e boat's close in, then one at a
time. You fi t, my dear."

THE IIAVTi: XOni ESSE.

her point

5 mure to

i I ought
)ut for a
ey-slavc !
1 am
Decaiise 1

ttcrcd an

.cslic had

straight

came in

fishing?"

Dflly
fisliii
dy, dear,

m, where

cily now,

int," said

t wetting

sly ; and
the har-

Ic Luke
boat, in
res, who
eze play
lime he
rt thick

|che and
holland
the sea-

larp, de-
Imy lad.

lie at a

This to T.ouisc, as he stepped actively down tlic graniij
rocks to a narrow natural shelf, which was now bare, now
several inches deep in water.

" If we manage it cleverly we can get you ashore with-
out a wetting."

The warnings were necessary, for the tide ran fast, and
the Atlantic swell made the boat rise and fall, smooth as
the surface was.

*' Now then," cried the French-looking gentleman, giving
his orders as if h.e were an officer in command, " easy,
Harry Vine ; back a little, Mr. Leslie. Be ready, Louie,
my dear. That's it ; a little more. [ have you. Bravo ! "

The words came slowly, and with the latter there was a
little action ; as he took the hands outstretched to him,
when the boat nearly grazed the rock, there was a light
sjH-ing, the girl was on the narrow shelf, and the boat, in
answer to a touch of the oars, was hall-a-dozen yards
away rising and failing on the sv,-ell.

"Give me your hand, my dear," said the tall grey gentle-
man, leaning down.

" Oh, I can manage, papa," she cried, and the next
moment she was by his side. Looking back, " Thank
you, Mr. Van Heldre,'' she said.

"Eh? All right, my child. Now, iVLaddy. Steady, my
lads. Mind that ledge ; don't get her under there. Ikavo !
that's right. Now, my girl. Well done."

^Ladelaine leaped to his side, and was in turn assisted
to the top, she accepting the tall gentleman's help, while
Uncle Luke, with his hands resting on his rod, which he
held with the butt on the rock, stood grimly looking down
at the boat.

" I think I'll land here," said Leslie. " You don't want
my help with the boat."

"Oh, no; we can manage," said Harry sourly; and
Leslie gave up his oar and leaped on to the rock as the
boat was again backed in.

"That chap looks quite green," said Uncle Luke with a
sneering laugh. " Our London friend been ])Oorly, Louie ? "

Before she could answer the tall gentleman cried to
those in the boat —

" Don't be long, my boy. Tea will be waitirig,"

" All right, dad. Lay hold of this oar, Vic, and let's
get her moored."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

** Why, you're wet, Mr. Leslie," said the tall gentleman,
shaking liands.

"Only sea-water, sir. It's nothing."

" But," said the former speaker, looking quickly from one
to the other, and liis handsome thoughtful face seemed
troubled, *'has there been anything wrong? "

" Harry fell in," said Louise, speaking rather quickly
and excitedly ; *' and, Mr. Leslie "

"Ah ! " ejaculated the tall gentleman excitedly.

" It was nothing, sir," said Leslie hastily. " He swam
in among the rocks — into a cave, and he was a long time
gone, and I went after him ; that's all."

" But, my dear boy, you must make haste and change
your things."

" I shall not be hurt, Mr. Vine."

" And — and — look here. Make haste and come on then
to us. There will be a meal ready. It's Harry's last day
at home."

" Oh, thank you, Mr. Vine ; I don't think I'll come to-
night."

" But you have been one of the party so far, and I
should — Louie, my dear "

" We shall be very glad if you will come, Mr. Leslie,"
said Louise, in rcs])onse to her father's hesitating words
and look, and there was a calm, ingenious invitation in
her words that made the young man's heart throb.

" I, too, shall be very glad," he said quietly.

"That's right, that's right," said Mr. Vine, laying one
of his long thin white hands on the young man's arm;
and then changing its position, so that he could take hold
of one of tlie buttons on his breast. Then turning
quickly: " Madelaine's coming, of course."

" Louie says so," said the girl quietly.

"To be sure; that's right, my dear; that's right," said
the old man. beaming u])on her as he took one of her
hands to hold and pat it in his. " You'll come too,
Van ? "

"I? No, no. I've some bills of lading to look over."

" Yah ! " ejaculated Uncle Luke with a snarl.

" Yes ; bills of lading, you idle old cynic. I can't
spend my time fishing."

"Pity you can't," said Uncle Luke, " Money, money,
always money."

THE IIAITI: XOBLESSE,

ntleman,

' from one
e sccmrd

r quickly

He swam
long time

d change

le on then
s last day

1 come to-

far, and I

r. Leslie,"
ng words
ration in
b.

aying one

tn's arm :

ake hold

turning

ht," said
ne of her
ome too,

Dk over."

I can't

y, money,

,#.

"Hear him, Mr. Leslie ?" said Van Hefdre smiling.
" Arc you disposed to follow his teachings ? "

" Lm afraid not," said Leslie.

" Not he," snarled Uncle Luke.

" But you will come, Van ? said Mr. Vine.

*' My dear fellow, I wish you would not tempt me.
There's work to do. Tiien there's my wife."

"Bring Mrs. Van Heldre too," said Louise, laying her
hand on his.

" Ah, you temptress," he cried merrily.

" It's Harry's last evening." said Mr. Vine.

'' Look here," said Van Heldre, " will you sing me
my old favourite if I come, Louie ? "

" Ves ; and you shall have a duet too."
* Ah, never mind the duct ," said Van Heldre laugh-
ingly ; " I can always hear ALiddy at home. There, out
of j)ocket again by listening to temi)tation. LU come."

'' Come and join us too, Luke," said Mr. Vine.

" No 1 " snapped tlie old fisher.

" Do, uncle," said Louise.

" Shan't," he snarled, stooping to pick up his heavy
basket.

" But it's Harry's last "

" Good job too," snarled the old man.

*' I'm going your way, Mr. Luke Vine, " said Leslie.
" Let me carry the basket } "

"Thank ye; I'm not above carrying my own fish,"
said the old man sharply ; and he raised and gave the
basket a swing to get it upon his back, but tottered
with the weight, and nearly fell on the uneven rocks.

''There, it is too heavy for you," said Leslie, taking pos-
session of the basket firmly ; and Louise Vine's eyes bright-
ened.

" Be too heavy for you when you get as old as I am,"
snarled the old man.

" I daresay," said Leslie quietly ; and they went off
together.

'' Luke's in fine form this afternoon," said Van Heldre,
nodding and smiling.

"Yes," said the brother, looking after him wistfully.
"We shall wait till you come, Mr. Leslie," he shouted,
giving vent to an afterthouglit.

The young man turned and waved his hand.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

" Rather liks Leslie," said Van Heldre. *' Maddy, you'll
have to set ycur cap at him."

Madelaine looked up at him and laughed.

** Yes, ])oor Luke I " said Mr. Vine thoughtfully, as he
stooped and picked up a small net and a tin can, contain-
ing the treasures he liad found in sundry rock pools. " I'm
afraid we are a very strange family, ^'an," he added, as
they walked back towards the little town.

*' Very, old fellow," said his friend smiling. " I'll be
with you before Leslie gets back, wife and the necessary
change of dress permitting."

I ' i

CHAPTER IV.

A THUNDERBOLT.

George Vine, gentleman, as he was set down in the parish
books and the Westcountry directory, lived in a handsome
old granite-built residence that he had taken years before,
when, in obedience to his sister's wish, he had retired from
the silk trade a wealthy man. But there he had joined
issue with the lady in question, obstinately refusing to
make France his home and selecting the house above
named in the old Cornish ] ort for two reasons : one, to be
near his old friend Godfrey Van Heldre, a well-to-do mer-
chant who carried on rather a mixed business, dealing
largely in pilchards, which he sent in his own ships to the
Italian ports, trading in return in such produce of the
Levant as oranges, olives, and dried fruit ; the other, so
that he could devote himself to the branch of natural
history, upon which he had grown to be an authority so
great that his work upon the Actiniad?e of our coast was
looked forward to with no little expectation by a good
many people, in addition to those who wrote F.Z.S. at the
end of their names.

The pleasant social meal known as high tea was spread
in the long low oak-panelled dining-room, whose very wide
bay window looked right over the town from its shelf upon
the huge granite cliffs, and far away westward from whence
came the gales which beat upon the old mansion, whose
granite sides and gables had turned them off for the past
two hundred years.

THE IfAl'TE KOIU.ESSE,

idded, as

"I'll be
lecessary

he parish
laiidsome
s before,
ircd from
d joined
"using to
;e above
ne, to be
do mer-
dealing
3S to the
of the
thcr, so
natural
lority so
Dast was
a good
. at the

spread
ry wide
;]f upon
whence

whose
he past

It was a handsomely furnished room, thoroughly English,
and yet with a suggestion of French in the i)aintings of
courtly-looking folk, whicli decorated the panels above the
old oak sideboard and dressers, upon which stood hand-
some old ciiased cui)s, tkigons and salvers battered and
scratched, but rich and glistening old silver all the same,
and looking as if the dents and scratches were only the
natural i)uckers and furrows such venerable pieces of plate
should possess.

There was another suggestion of the foreign element,
too, in the glazing of the deejily embayed window, for right
across and between all tlie mullions, the leaden lattice panes
gave place, about two-thirds of the way up, to a series of
artistically jjainted armorial bearings in stained glass,
shields ajid helmets with tlieir crests and su])porters, and
beneath the escutcheon in the midtlle, a ribbon with triple
curve and fold bearing the words Roy ct f'oy.

The furniture had been selected to be thoroughly in
keeping with t'ne antit'iuity of the mansion, and the old oak
chairs and so much of the table as could be seen for the
long fine white linen cloth, was of the oldest and darkest
oak.

'i'he table was spread with the abundant fare dear to
A\'esL-country folk ; fruit and llowcrs gave colour, and the
thick yellow cfL-am and white sugar were i)iled high in
silver boAvls. The great tea urn was hissing upon its
stand, the visitors had arrived, and the host was dividing
his time betweim fidgeting to and fro from the door to Van
Heidre, who was leaning up against one of the mullions
of the great bay window talking to Leslie ui)on subjects
paramount in Cornwall — fish and the yielding of the mines.

The young peo])Ie were standing about talking, Louise
with her hand resting on the chair where sat a pleasant-
looking, rosy little woman with abundant, white hair, and
her mittened hands crossed over the waist of her purple
velvet gown enrlclied with good French lace.

" ALirgaret Vine's keeping us waiting a long time this
evening." she said.

" ALimma ! " said Madelaine reproachfully.

"Well, my dear, it's the simple truth. And so you go
back to business to-morrow, Harry?

LUl.

Yes, Mrs. Van Heidre. Slave a^

Nonsense, my boy. Work's good for every one. I'm

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

sure your friend, Mr. Pradcllc, thinks so," she continued,
appealing to that ^'cntlcman.

•* Well," he said, with an unpleasant laugh, '* nobody
left me a fortune, so I'm obliged to say yes."

"Ah, here she is !" said Mr. Vine, with a sigh of relief,
as the duor opened, and with almost theatrical effect a
rather little shari)-looking woman of about sixty entered,
gazing quickly round and i)ausing just within the room to
make an extremely formal old-fashioned courtesy — sinking
nearly to the ground as if she were a telescopic figure dis-
ai>pearing into the folds of the stiff rich brocade silk dress,
of a wonderful ])attern of pink and green, and cut in a
fashion ])robably ])opularat Versailles a hundred years ago.
She did not wear i)Owder, but her white hair turned uj) and
piled upon her head after the fashion of that blooming
period, produced the sarnie effect ; and as she gave the fan
she held a twitch which sj)read it open with a loud rattling
noise, she seemed, with her haughty carriage, handsome
aquiline face with long chin, tliat appeared to have formed
the pattern for her stomacher, like one of the paintings on
the panelled wall suddenly come to life, and feeling strange
at finding herself among that modern comjjany.

" I hope you have not waited for me," she said, smiling
and speaking in a high-pitched musical voice. " Louise,
my child, you should not. Ah 1 " she continued, raising
her gold-rimmed eye-glass to her thin arched nose rnd
dropping it directly, ** Mrs. Van Heldrc, Mr. Vane Heldre,
pray be seated, ^ir. Victor Pradelle, will you be so good ? "

The young man had gone through the performance several
times before, and he was in v/aiting ready to take the tips
of the gloved fingers extended to him, and walking over
the thick Turkey carpet with the lady to the other end of
the room in a way that seemed to endow him with a court
suit and a sword, and suggested the ])robability of the
couple continuing their de])ortment walk to the polished
oak boards beyond the carpet, and then after sundry bows
and courtesies going through the steps of the lucmict de la
cour.

As a matter of fnct, Pradelle led the old girl, as he called
her, to the seat she occupied at the end of the table, when
she condescended to leave her room ; the rest of the com-
pany took tiieir seats, and the meal began.

Harry had tried to ensconce hiniself beside Madelaine,

THE If. I in'/-: xoniEssE.

of relief,
effect a
entered,
r(^om to
-sinking
:;i!rc dis-
Ik dress,
cut in a
jars ago.
\ \\\) and
)l()oming
: the fan
I rattling
mdsome
: formed
1 liners on
j; strange

, smiling

' Louise,

, raising

osc pnd

Heldre,

good ? "

e several

the tips

ng over

r end of

a court

r of the

:)olished

ry bows

let dc la

but thnt young l.idyhad made a sign to Duncan Leslie, who
eagerly took the chair lusid'" h"r, one whicii he coveted,
for it was between lu-r and Louisi', now busy witii the tea-
tray ; and in a sulky manner, Harry obeyetl the motion of
the elderly lady's fan.

"That's right, Henri, mon chcr,'' she said, smiling,
"come and sit by me. \ .shall miss you so, my darling,
when you are gone back to that horrible London, and that
wretched business."

" Don't, don't, don't. Margaret, my dear," said Mr. Vine,
good-humouredly. " Vou will make him unhapj-y at having
to leave home."

** I hoi)e so, fleorge." said the lady with dignity, and
pronouncing his Christian name with the softness ])eculiar
to the I'Yench tongue; " and," she added with a smile,
** especially as we have company, will you oblige me—
Marguerite, if you i)lease?"
''Certainly, certainly, my dear.'

" Is that Miss Vane Heldre ? " said the lady, raising lier
glass once more. '' I beg your pardon, my child : I hope
you are well."

" Quite well, thank you. Miss >Larguerite Vine," said
Madelaine quietly, and her bright young face looked per-
fectly calm, though there was a touch of sarcasm in her
tone.

" Louise, dearest, my tea a little sweeter, please."
The meal i)rogressed, and the stifness produced by the
entree of the host's sister — it was her own term for her
appearance — soon wore off, the lady being very quiet as
she discussed the viands placed before her with a very
excellent appetite. Mr;;. Van Heldre prattled j^leasantly
on, with plenty of homely common-sense, to her host. Van
Heldre threw in a word nov/ and then, joked Louise and
his daughter, and made a wrinkle on his broad forehead,
which was his way of making a note.

The note he made was that a susi)icion which had pre-
viously entered his brain was correct.

" He's taken with her," he said to himself, as he glanced
at Louise and then at Duncan Leslie, who seemed to be
living in a dream. As a rule he was an energetic, (piick,
and sensible man ; on this occasion he was particukirly
silent, and when he spoke to either >Ladelaine or Louise,
it was in a softened voice.

3fi

THE HAVTE XOIU.ESSE.

Van lleklre looked at his (laiiglitt-r.

Madclainc looked at lur father, and tliey thoroughly
read each other's thoughts, the girl's bright grey eyes say-
ing to him as ])lainiy as could be —

•* Vou are (juite right."

"Well," said \'an ileldre to himself, as he placed a
spoonful of l)hu:k currant jam on his ])late, nnd then over
that two i)iled-ui) tal)le-s])Oonfuls of clotted cream — *' she's
as nice and true-hearted a girl as ever stepped, and
Leslie's a man, every inch of him. I'd have said^vw in a
moment if he luid wanted my girl. I'm glad of il j but,
poor fellow, what he'll have to suffLT from that terrible old
woman !"

He had just thought this, and was busy composing a
nocturne or a diurne — probably the latter from its tints
of red and yellow — uj)on his plale, which flowed with
jam and cream, when Aunt Marguerite, who had eaten all
she wished, began to stir lur tea with courtly grace, and
raised her voice in continuation of something she had
been saying, but it was twenty-four hours before.

" Yes, Mr. Pradelle," she said, so that everyone should
hear: "my memories of the i)ast are painful, and yet a
delight. Wc old Huguenots are proud of our past."

"You must be, madam."

"And you too," said tlu- lady. "I feel sure that if you
will take the trouble you will find that I am right. The
Pradelles must have been of our people." \

"I'll look into it as soon as I get back to town," said
the yotmg man.

Harry gave him a very vulgar wink.

"Do," said Aunt Marguerite. "By the way, I don't
think I told you that though my brother persists in calling
himself Vine, cur name is des Vigncs, and we belong to
one of the oldest families in Auvcrgne."

"Yes, that's right, Mr. Pradcllc," said the host, nod-
ding i)leasantly ; "but when a cruel persecution drove us
over here, and old England held out her arms to us, and
we found a kindly welcome ''

" My dear George 1" interposed Aunt Marguerite.

" Let me finish, my dear," said Mr. Vine, good-tem-
peredly. " It's Mr. Prndello's last evening here."

" For the present, Cieorgc, for the present."

" Ah, yes, of course, for the present, and I should like
him to hear my version too.''

THE nAVTF. XOni ESSE

•oughly
rCS say-

laced a
en over
-'* she's
id, and
yes in a
il ; but,
il)le old

osing a
its tints
cd with
:aten all
ICC, and
^lic had

3 should
id yet a

It if you
t. The

n," said

I don't

calling
lOng to

it, nod-
rove us
us, and

od-tem-

uld like

Aunt Marguerite tapjicd the hack t)f her left hand with
her fan impatiently.

" We found here a hearty welcome and a home," con-
tinued Mr. Vine, "and we said we can never — we will
never —retLirn to the land of fire and the swi)r<l ; and then
. e, some of us i)()()r, some of us well-to-do, settled down
among our I'Jiglish brothers, and thanked Ciod that in this
new Land of (Canaan we had found rest."

"And my dear Mr. I'radelle," began Aunt NFarguerite,
hastily ; but Mr. Vine was started, and he talked on.

" In time we delermiu'd to be, in spite of our French
descent, Knglisli of the I''.ni;lish, for r)ur cliildren's sake,
and wc worked with them, and traded with them ; and, to
show our faith in them, and to avoid all further connec-
tion and military service in the country we had left, wc
even anglicised our names. My i)eoi)le became Vines ;
the D'Aubigneys, Daubney or Dobbs ; the Jioileaus,
Drinkwater ; the ( ) !i])ets, ( 'itipi)y. \'ulgarising our names,
some people say ; but never mind, we found rest, pros-
l)crity and peace."

"Quite right, Mr. Pradelle," said Van Heldre, "and in
sj)ite of my name and my Huguenot descent, I say, thank
Heaven 1 am now an iMiglishman."

" No, no, no, no, Mr. Van Heldre," said Aunt Margue-
rite throwing herself back, and looking at him with a pity-
ing smile. " You cannot prove your Huguenot descent."

"Won't contradict you, ma'am," said Van Heldre.
" Capital jam this, Louise."

" You must be of Dutch descent," said Aunt Margue-
rite.

" I went carefully over my father's i)edigrec Miss Mar-
guerite," said IvLadelaine quietly.

"Indeed, my child?" said the lady, raising her brows.

"And I found widiout dou!)t that the Venelttes fled
during the persecutions to Holland, where they stayed for
half a century, and clianged their names to Van Heldre
before coming to Enf^land."

" Quite right," said Van Heldre in a low voice. " Capi-
tal cream."

" Ah, yes," said Aunt Margaret ; " but, my dear child,
such papers arc often decei)tive"

"Yes." said Van Heldre, smiling, " often enough, so are
traditions and many of our beliefs about ancestry ; but I

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

1 1

hope I have enough of what you call the haute noblesse in
me to give v, \\\ and not attempt to argue the point."

" No, Mr Van Heldre," said Auiit Margaret, with a
smile of i)ily and good-humoured contemjjt ; •• we have
often argued together upon this question, l)Ut 1 cannot sit
in siicnce and hear you persist in that wliich is not true.
No : you have not any Huguenot blood in your veins."

*' My dear madam, I feel at times plethoric enough to
wish that the old-fashioned idea of being blooded in the
spring were still in vogue. I have so much Huguenot
blood in niy veins, that I should be glad to have less."

Aunt Margaret shook her head, and tightened her lips.

" Low Dutch," she said to herself, " Low Dutch."'

Van Heldre read her thoughts in the movement of her
lips.

" Don't much matter," he said. " Vine, old fellow,
think I shall turn over a new leaf."

"Eh? New leaf?"

" Yes ; get a good piece of marsh, make a dam to keep
out the sea and take to keepmg cows. What capital
cream ! "

" Yes, Mr. Pradelle," continued Aunt Margaret ; *' we
are Huguenots of the Huguenots, and it is the dream of
my life that Henri should assert hi? right to the title his
father repudiates, and become Comte des Vignes."

" Ah ! " said Pradelle.

'' Vigorous stcjjs have only to be taken to wrest the
family estates in Auvergne from the usurpers who hold
them. I have long fought for this, but so far, I grieve to
say, vainly. IVy l)rother here has mistaken noiions about
the respectability of trade, and is content to vegetate."

" Oh, you miserable old vegetable ! " said Van Heldre
to himself, as he gave his friend a droll look, and shook his
head.

"To vegetate in this out-of-the-way place when he
should be watching over the welfare of his couniry, and as
a nobleman of that land, striving to stem the tide cf demo-
cracy. He will not do it ; but if I live my nephew Henri
shall, as soon as he can be rescued from the degrading
influence of trade, and the clerk's stool in an office. Ah,
my poor boy, T pity you and I say out boldly that I am
not surprised that you should have thrown up post after
post in d'>gust, and refused to settle down to such sordid
wretchedness."

u obi esse in

'"m

HlU."

t, with a

" we have

cannot sit

s not true.

- -.

veins."

enough to

■!

led in the

Huguenot

J less."

d her hps.

ch.'"

lent of her

aid fellow,

m to keep

lat capital

aret ; "we

c dream of

he title his

s."

wrest the

who hold

I grieve to

ions about

;ctate."

an Heldre

shook his

when he

ry, and as

I cf dcmo-

lew Henri

degrading

fice. Ah,

that I am

post after

ch sordid

THE HAUTE Xoni.ESSE.

" My dear Marguerite ! our visitors."

** I must speak, George. Mr. \'-a.w Heldre loves trade."

'' I do, ma'am."

'•Therefore he cannot feci witli mc."

"Well, never mind, my dear. Let some one else be
Count des Vignes, only let me be in {leace, and don't fill
poor Harry's head with that stuff just before he's leaving
home to go up to the great city, v/hcrc he will 1 am sure
redeem the follies of the past, a;ul prove himself a true
man. Harry, my dear boy, we'll resj^ect Aunt Margaret's
opiiii(.):^ ; but we will not follov»' them out. Van, old fel-
low, Leslie, Mr. rradellc, a glass of wine. We'll drink
Harry's health. All filled? That's right. Harry, my
boy, a true honest man is nature's nobleman. God speed
you, my boy; and Llis blessing be upon all your works.
Health and happiness to you, my son ! "

" Amen," said Van Heldre ; and the simple old-fashioned
heal til was drunk.

'• lOh, v/hat's that — letters ? " said Vine, as a servant
entered the room and handed her master three.

'• For you, Mr. Pradelle ; for you, Harry, and for me.
May we open them. Mrs. Van Heldre? They may be
important."

" Of course, Mr. Vine, of course."

Pradelle opened his, glanced at it, and thrust it into his
]-ocket.

Harry did likewise.

Mr. Vine read his twice, then dropped it upon the
table.

'' Papa ! — lather" cried Louise, starting from her place,
and running round to him as he stood up with a fierce
angry light in his eyes, and the table was in confusion.

"Tidings at last of the French estates, Mr. Pradelle,"
whispered Aunt ALargaret.

'•Papa, is anything wrong? Is it bad news?" cried
Louise.

" Wrong ! Bad news ! " he cried, flashing up from the
quiet student to the stern man, stung to the quick by the
announcement he had just received. " Van Heldre, old
friend, you know how I strove among our connections and
Iriends to place him wlicre he might work and rise and
prove himself my son."

" Yes, yes, old fellow, but be calm."

THE HAUTE NOB LESS E.

" Father, hush ! " whispered Louise, as she glanced at
Leslie's s)mi)atheiic coiinlcnancc. "Hush! ]Jc ralm 1 "

*' How can 1 be calm 1 " cried the old man fiercely.
** The des Vignes ! The family estates ! The title ! Yen
hear this, ALirgaret. Here is a fine opportunity for the
search to be made — the old castle and the vineyards to be
rescued from the occupiers."

" George — brotlier, what do you mean ? " cried the old
lady indignantly, and she laid her hand u])on her nei)hew's
shoulder, as he sat gazing straight down before him at his
plate.

"What do I mean?" cried the indignant father tossing
the letter towards h'.-r. " I mean that my son is once
more dismissed from his situation in disgrace."

CHAPTER V.

POISON ANIJ ANTIDOTE.

" Now, sir, have the goodness to tell me what you mean
to do."

Harry Vine looked at his father, th.ust his hands low
down into his pockets, leaned back against the mantelpiece,
and was silent.

Vine senior leaned over a shallow glass jar, with a thin
splinter of wood in his hand, upon which he had just
impaled a small fragment of raw, minced periwinkle, and
this he thrust down to where a gorgeous sea-anemohe ■;;''
spread open upon a piece of rock — chipped from out of v--\\k
of the caverns on the coast.

The anemone's tentacles bristled all around, giving the
creature the aspect of a great flower ; and down among
these the scrap of food was thrust till it touched them,
when the tentacles began to curve over, and draw the scrap
of shell-fish down tov.'nrd the large central mouth, in which
it soon began to disappear.

Vine senior looked uj).

" I have done everything I could for you in the way of
education. I havj, I am sure, been a most kind nnd indul-
gent father. You have had a liberal supply of monev, and
by the exercise of my own and the personal interests of

THE HAUTE XOBI.ESSE.

anced at

r:ilm !"

fiercely.

L' ! You

1/ for the

\ls to be

\ the old
ici)hew's
m at his

■ tossing
is once

•II mean

nds low
elpiece,

|i a thin
ad just
Ic, and

ohe •;n'^
It of <nt

ing the

among

them,

; scrap

which

|way of

indul-

'V, and

>iJtS of

friends, I have ol)taincd for you ])Osts among our people,
any one of which was the bcginnirg of prosi)erity and
position, such as a youth should have been proud to win."

" But they were so unsuitable, father. All connected
with trade."

'•Shame, Harry ! As if there was anything undignified
in trade. No matter whether it be trade or ])rofession by
which a man honestly earns his subsistence, it is an hon-
ourable career. And yet five times over you have been
thrown back on my hands in disgrace."

** Well, I can't help it, father; I've done my best."

** Your best 1 " cried Vine senior, taking up a glass rod,
and stirring the water in another glass jar. " It is not
true."

" But it's so absurd. You're a rich man."

" If I were ten times as well off, 1 would not have you
waste your life in idleness. You are not twenty-four, and
I am determined that you shall take some post. I have
seen too much of what follows when a restless, idle young
man sits down to wait for his fiither's money. There, I
am busy now. Go and think over what I have said. You
must and shall do something. It is now a month since I
recoived that letter. What is Mr. Tradelle doing down
here again? "

'•Come for a change, as any other gentleman would."

"Gentleman? "

" Well, he has a little income of his own, I suppose. If
I've been unlucky, that's no reason why I should throw over
my friends."

The father looked at the son in a perplexed way, and
then fed another sea-anemone, Harry looking on con-
temptuously.

" Well, sir, you have heard what 1 said. Go and think
it over."

" Yes, father."

The young^an left the business-like study, and encoun-
tered his siote'n in the hall.

"Well, Harry?"

" Well, Lou."

" What does papa say ? "

''The old story. I'm to go back to drudgery. I think
I shall enlist."

" For shame ! and you professing to care as you do for
Madelaine."

Till'. Il.irTE .VOHLESSE.

" So T do. I worship her."

" 'I'hen prove it l)y exerting yourself in the way papa
WMslies. 1 wonder you have not more spirit."

*' And 1 wonder you have not more decency towards my
friends."

Louise coloured slightly.

" Here you profess to believe in my going into trade
and drudging behind a counter."

" I did not know that a counter had ever been in ques-
tion, Harry," said his sister sarcastically.

" Well, a clerk's desk ; it's all the same. I believe you
would like to see me selling tea and sugar."

" 1 don't thip.k I should mind."

" No ; that's it. I'm to be disgraced while you are so
much of the fine lady that you look down on, and quite
insult my friend Pradelle."

" Aunt Margaret wishes to speak to you, dear," said
Louise gravely. '' I promised to tell you as soon as you
left the study."

'• Then hang it all ! why didn't you tell me ? Couldn't
resist a chance for a lecture. There's only one body here
who understands me, and that's aunt. Why even Made-
laine's turning against me now, and I believe it is all your
doing."

" I have done nothing but what is for your good, Harry."

" Then you own to it ? You have been talking to
Maddy."

" She came and confided in me, and I believe I spoke the
truth."

'' Yes, I knew it ! " cried Harry warmly. " Then look
here, my lady, I'm not blind. I've petted you and been
the best of brothers, but if you Uirn against me I shall turn
against you."

•• Harry, dear ! "

" Ah, that startles you, does it ? Then I shall tell the
truth, and I'll back up Aunt Margaret throiK^h thick and
thin." -^

'•' What do you mean ? "

'• What Aunt Margaret says. That long Scotch copper-
miner is no match for you."

" Harry ! "

" And I shall tell him this, if he comes hanging about
here where he sees he is not wanted, and stands in the way

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

3u are so

of a gentleman of good French Huguenot descent, I'll
horsewhip him. There 1 "

He turned on his heel, and bounded up the old staircase
three steps at a time.

" Oh ! " ejaculated Louise, as she stood till she heard a
sharp tap at her aunt's door and her brother enter and
close it after him. " Mr. Pradelle, too, of all people in the
world!"

" Ah, my darling," cried Aunt Margaret, looking up from
the tambour-frame and smoothing out the folds of her
antique flowered j^eignoir. " Bring that stool, and come
and sit down here."

Harry bent down and kissed her rather sulkily. Then
in a half-contemptuous way he fetched the said stool,
embroidered by the lady herself, and placed it at her feet.

" Sit down, my dear,"

Harry lowered himself into a very uncomfortable posi-
tion, while Aunt Margaret placed one arm about his neck,
struck a jrraceful pose, and began to smooth over the young
man's already too smooth hair.

" I want to have another very serious talk to you, my
boy," she said. "Ah, yes," she continued, raising his chin
and looking down in his disgusted face ; " how every linea-
ment shuws your descent ! Henri, I do not mean to die
until I have seen you claim your own, and you are received
with acclamation as Comte Henri des Vignes."

'• I say, aunt, I've just brushed my hair," he protested.

'^Yes, dear, but you should not hide your forehead. It
is the brow of the des Vignes."

'' Oh, all right, auntie, have it your own way. But, I say,
have you. got any money? "

" Alas I no, my boy."

" I don't mean now. I mean haven't you really got any
to leave me in your will } "

There was a far-off look in Aunt Margaret's eyes as she
slowly shook her head.

" You will leave me what you have, aunt? "

" If I had hundreds of thousands, you should have all,
Henri ; but, alas, 1 have none. I had property once."

'• What became of it? "

" Well, my dear, it is a long story and a sad one. I could
not tell it to you even in brief, but you are a man now, and
must know the meanmg of the word love."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

" Oh; yes, I know what that means ; but I say, don't,
fidget my hair about so."

" I could not tell you all, Henri. It was thirty years ago.
He was a French gentleman of noble descent. His estates
had been confiscated, and I was only too glad to place my
little fortune at his disposal to recover them."

''And did he?"

" No, my dear. Those v/ere terrible times. He lost
all ; and with true nobility, he wrote to me that he loved me
too well to drag me down to poverty — to share his lot as an
exile. I have never seen him since. But I would have
shared his lot."

" Humph ! Lost it ? Then if I had money and tried for
our family estates, I might lose it too."

" No, no, my boy ; you would be certain to win. Did
you do what I told you ? "

"Yes, aunt; but 1 can't use them down here."

"liCt me look, my dear; and I do not sec v/hy not.
You must be bold; and pxoud of your descent."

" But they'd laugh."

" L-^t them," said Aunt Margaret grandly. ''By-and-by
they will bow down. Let me see."

The young man took a caid-case from his pocket, on
which was stamped in gold a French count's coronet.

'' Ah ! yes ; that is right," said the old lady, snatching
the case with trembling fingers, ojKming it, and taking out
a card on which was also printed a coronet. " Cofnte
Henri dcs Fi^i^/ics," she read, in an excited manner, and
with t^ars in her eyes. " I\Iy darling boy ! that will carry
conviction with it. I am very glad it is done."

" Costa precious lot, aunt ; made a regular hole in your
diamond ring."

" Did you'sell it? "

*' No ; Vic Pradelle pawned it for mc."

" Ah ! he is a friend of whom you may be proud, Henri."

" Not a bad sort of fellow, aunt. He got precious little
on the ring, though, and I si)ent it nearly all."

*' Never mind the ring, my boy, and I'm very glad you
have the cards. Now for a little serious talk about the
future."

" Wish to goodness there was no future," said Harry
glumly.

'' Would you like to talk about the past, then ? " said the
old lady playfully.

ay, don't

'ears ago.
is estates

place my

'^9

lie lost

loved me

lot as an

ulcl have

tried for

ir.. Did

THE /I.lCTF. XOBLESSE.

'' Wish there was no past neither," grumbled Harry,

*' Then we will talk about the present, my dear, and
about — let me whisper to you — love I ''

She ):)lar.ed her thin li])s close to her nephew's ear, and
then held him at arm's length and smiled upon him
proudly.

" Love I Too exj^ensivc a luxury for me, auntie. I
say, you are ruffling my hair so."

"Too expensive, Henri? No, my darling boy; follow
my advice, and the richest r-nd fairest of the daughters of
France shall sue for your hand, and be proud to take your
noble name."

*' I say, auntie,'' he said laughingly, " arn't you laying
on the colour rather thick ? "'

" Not a bit, my darling ; and that's why I want to talk
to you about your sister's friend."

•' What, Maddv? " he said eagerly ; •' then you approve
of it."

" Approve ! Bah ! you are jesting, my dear. I approve
of your making an alliance with a fat Dutch fraulein ! "

"Oh. come, aunt!" said Harry, looking nettles;
" Madelaine is not Dutch, nor yet fat."

" I know better, my boy. Dutch 1 Dutch ! Dutch !
Look at her father and her mother I No, my boy, you
could not make an alliance with a girl like that. She
might do for a kitchen-maid."

" Auntie, she's a very charming girl."

" Silly boy ! Go and travel, and see the daughters of
France."

"And she'll be rich some day."

" If she were heiress to millions she could not marry
you. As some writer says, eagles do not mate with plump
Dutch ducklings. No, Henri, my boy, you must wait."

Hr.rry frowned, but Aunt ALirgaret paid no heed.

" That is a boyish piece of nonsense, unworthy the
Comte dcs Vignes, my dear bi)y. But tell me — you have
been with vour father — what does he sav now ? "

" The old story. I'm to choose what I will do. I must
go to work."

" Poor George !" sighed Aunt Margaret; "always so
sordid in his ideas in early life ; now that he is wealthy, so
utterly wanting in aspirations ! Always dallying over some
miserable shrimp. He has no more ambition than one of

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

those Filly fish over which he sits and dreams. Oh, Henri,
my boy, when I look back at what our family has been —
right back into the distant ages of French history — valor-
ous knights and noble ladies; and later on, Iiow they
graced the court at banquet and at ball, 1 weep the salt
tears of misery to see my brother sink so low, and so care-
less about the welfare of his boy."

" Ah ! well, it's of no use, aunt. I must go and turn
somebody's grindstone again."

" No, Henri, it shall not be," cried the old lady, with flash-
ing eyes. *' \Vc must think ; we must plot and plan. You
must get money somehow, so as to carry on the war ; and
we will have back the estate in Auvergne ; and a noble
future shall be yours ; and "

"If you please, ma'am, I've brought your lunch," said
a voice ; and Liza, the maid, who bore a strong resemblance
to the fish-woman who had accosted Uncle Luke at the
mouth of the harbour, set down a delicately-cooked cutlet
and bit of fish, and spread on a snowy napkin, with the
accompaniments of plate, glass, and a decanter of sherry.

" Ah ! yes, my lunch," said Aunt Margaiet, with a sigh.
" Go, and think over what I have said, my dear, and we
will talk again another time."

" All right, auntie," said the young man, rising slowly ;
** but it seems to me as if the best thing I could do would
be to jump into the sea."

"• No, no, Henri," said Aunt Margaret, taking up a silver
spoon and shaking it slovly at her nephew, " a des Vignes
was ready widi his sword in defence of his honour, and to
advance his master's cause ; but he never dreamed of
taking his own life. That, my dear, would be the act of
one of the low-born canaille. Remember who you are,
and wait. I am working for you, and you shall triumph
yet. Consult your friend."

"Sometimes I think it's all gammon,'' said Harry, as he
went slowly down-stairs, and out into the garden, "and
sometimes it seems as if it would be very jolly. I dare
say the old woman is right, and "

" What are you talking about — muttering aside like the
wicked man on the stage ? "

" Hullo, Vic ! You there ? "

"Yes, dear boy. I'm here for want of somewhere
better,"

THE HAUTE jVOPrESSE.

'• Consult your friend ! " Aunt Margaret's last words.

" Been having a cigar ? "

'' I've been hanging al)out here this last hour. How is
it she hasn't been for a walk ? "

•' Louie ? Don't know. Here, let's go down under the
cliff, and find a snig corner, and have a talk over a i)i})e."

"The latter, if you like ; never mind the former. Yes,
I will : for I want a few words of a sort."

'' What about?" said Harry, as they strolled away.

'' Everything. Look here, old fellow ; we've been the
best of chums ever since you shared my desk."

" Yes, and you shared my allowance."

" Well, chums always do. Then I came down with you,
and it was all as jolly as could be, and I was making way
fasl, in spite of that confounded red-headed porridge-eating
fellow. Then came that upset, and I went away. Then
you wrote to me in answer to my letter about having a
good thing on, and said ' Come down.' "

*' And you came," said Harry thoughtfully, " and the
good thing turned out a bad thing, as every one does that
I join in."

" Well, that was an accident ; speculators must have
some crust as well as crumb."

" But I get all crust."

" No, I seem to be getting all crust now from your
people. Your aunt's right enough, but your father casts
his cold shoulder and stale bread at me whenever we meet ;
and as for a certain lady, she regularly cut me yesterday."

*• Well, I can't help that, Vic. You know what I said
when you told me you were on that. I said that I couldn't
do anything, and that I wouldn't do anything if I could :
but that I wouldn't stand in your way if you liked to try."

"Yes, I know what you said," grumbled Pradelle, as
they strolled down to the shore, went round the rocks, and
then strolled on over and amongst the shingle and sand,
till — a suitable spot presenting itself, about half a mile
from the town — they sat down on the soft sand, tilted their
hats over their eyes, leaned their backs against a huge
stone, and then lit up and began to smoke.

" You see ii's like this," said Pradelle ; " I know I'm
not much of a catch, but I like her, and that ought to
make up for a great deal."

"Yes," said Harry, whose mind was wandering else-

Tiir: iLirrr. kobi.f.s.^e.

where, and he was hositnlinjr ns towiiether he slioulJ take
his friend into l)is counsels or not.

"She don't know licr own mind, that's about it," con-
tinued Pradelle ; "and a word from yow might do a deal."

" Got any money, Vic ? "

" Now tliere's a mean sort of a question to ask a friend !
Have I got any money? As if a man must he made of
money before he may look at hi-; old chum's sister."

" 1 wasn't thinking about her, but of something else,"
said Harry hastily.

"Ah, well, I wasn't. I've got a little bit of an income,
a modest one 1 sujopose you'd call it, and — but look
there ! "

" What at? " said Harry, whose eyes were shut, and his
thou(i;hts far awav.

"Them. They're going for a walk. \\'hy, Hal, old
chap, they saw us conjc down here."

Harry started into waUefuhicss, and realised the fact
that his sister and Madelaine Van Heldre were jxissing
before them, but down by the water's edr^e, while the
young men were close up under tlie towering cliff

" Let's follow them," said Tradelle eageriy.

" Wait a moment."

Harry waited to think, and scraps of his aunt's remarks
floated through his br;un respecting tlie fair daughters of
!•' ranee, who would fall at the feet of tlie yoimg count
wlien he succeeded to his jjroperly, and the castle in the
air which she reconstr acted for him to see mentally.

Harry cogitated. The daughters cf France were no
doubt very lovely, but they were imaginative ; and though
Madelaine Van Ileldre miglit, as his aunt said, not be of
the pure Huguenot blood, still that lact did not seem to
matter to him. For that was not imagination before him,
but the bright, natural, clever girl whom he had known
from childhood, his old ]")layfellow, who had always seemed
tD supply a something wanting in liis mental organization,
the girl who had led him and inlluenced his career, and
whom he now told himself he loved very dearly, principally
liecause he felt bound to look up to her and submit to all
t he said.

It was a very raw, green, and acrid kind of love, though
Harry Vine was not aware of the fact, and he leaped to his
feet.

TIFF. rnrTi: NonrEss/-:.

" IjoUut Aunt M;iig!icrit(.' I " \\c said to himself, and then
nloii-', " Come aloncj I " in liaj)]))' ii^norance of the f:i('t that
liis good genius Iia^' prenarcd for him an antidote for the
j)oison of vanity lately administered l)y his aunt.

CIIAPTKR VI.

HARRY VINE SPFAKS PLAIXLV ; SO DOES HIS FRIEND.

In j^erfect ignorance (/f their i)resence, Louise and Made-
lainc went on down by the M-ati-r's edge, picking their way
among the rocks with an activity that would have startled
some of their contemporaries, whose high lieeled slioes and
non pcr])endicular walk would have rendered such progress
impossible. They were in profound ignorance of the fact
that they were followed at a distance of about a couple of
hundred yards, for Harry 1:e|>t back his more eager friend,
]>artly from a peculiar shrinking of a d'i])icx nature, relating
as it did to whether he was doing right in letting Pradelle
make such very pronounced ajiproaches to his sister, and
the reception his own words would have upon Madelaine.

Tiic two friends female were then in ])rofound ignorance
of the fact that they were watched, so were the two friends
male.

For some time past the owner of the mine high up on
the cliff, whose engine shaft went trailing along the ground
like a huge serpent, higher and higher, till it reared its
head for a landmark on the hill overlooking the sea, had
for some time past been awakening to th.e fact that he had
a heart, and that tliis h<\art was a good deal moved by
Louise Vine. Till now he had been a thoroughly energetic
man of business, but after the first .ntroduction to the Vine
family his business energy seemed to receive an impetus.
He was working for her, evervthing might be for her.

Then came Pradelle upon the scene, and the young Scot
was not long in seeing that the brother's London friend
was also impressed, and that his advances found favour
with Harry. Whether they did with the sister he could
not tell.

The consequence was that there was a good deal of
indecision on Duncan Leslie's part, some neglect of his

TIIF. HAUTE NOB T. ESSE.

busy minc,aiKl a good deal of use of a doiiMe glass, vvlu'rh
was supposed to l)c kept in a room, half office, half study
and laboratory, for ll^e i)urpose of scanning the shii)i)ing
coming into port.

On the day in rpicstion the glass was being ai)i)licd to a
purjjose rather n'j)reliensil)le, ])erhaps, bui with some
excuse of helping Duncaii Leslie's affiir of the heart.
From his window he could see the old granite-built house,
and with interruptions, due to rocks and doublings and
jutting pieces of clilT, a great deal of the winding and zig-zag
path, half steps, which led down to the shore.

As, then, was frequently the case, the glass was directed
toward the residence (»f the \'ines,and Duncan Leslie saw
Louise and Madelaine go down to the sea, stand watching
the receding tide, and then go off west.

After gazing through the glass for a time he laid it down,
with his heart beating faster than usual, as he debated
within himself whether he should go down to the shore and
follow them.

It was a hard fight, and inclination was ra])idly mastering
etiquette, when two figures, hitherto concealed ame into
view from beneath the cliff and began to folio i ladies.

Duncan Leslie's eyes flashed as he cauglit up the glass
again, and after looking through it for a few minutes he
closed it and threw it down.

" I'm making a fool of myself," he said bitterly. '' Better
attend to my business and think about it no more."

The desire was upon him to focus the glass again and
watch what took place, but he turned away with an angry
ejaculation and put the glass in its case.

" I might have known better," he said, " and it would be
like playing the spy."

He strode out and went to his engine-house, forcing
himself to take an interest in what was going on, and
wishing the while that he had not used that glass in so
reprehensible a way.

Oddly enough, just at that moment Uncle Luke was
seated outside the door of his little cottage in its niche of
the cliff below the mine, and wishing for this very glass.

His was a cottage of the roughest construction, which
he had bought some years before of an old fisherman ; and
his seat — he could not afford chairs, he said — was a rough
block of granite, upon which he was very fond of sunning
himself when the weather was fine.

Tin: iiAVTE xop/j:sisr..

5»

** I've a good mind to go and ask Leslie to lend me his
glass," muttered the old man. "No. He'd only begin
asking favours of me. IJut all that ought to be stopped.
Wonder whether George knows. What's \'an Ileldre
about? As for those two girls, I'll give them such a
talking to — the gipsies ! There they go, ])retending they
can't see that they arc followctl, and those two scamps
making after them, and won't close up till they're round the
point. Bah ! it's no business of mine 1 I'm not going to
marry."

Uncle Luke was quite right. Harry Vino and his friend
were waiting till the jutting mass of cliff was passed —
about a cpiarter of a mile to the westward, and they over-
took the objects of their pursuit just as a consultation
was taking place as to whether they should sit down and
rest.

" Yes, let's sit down," said Madelaine, turning round.

" Oh : "

"What is it? sprained your ankle?"

" No. Mr. Pradclle and Harry are close by."

" Let's walk on quickly then, and go round back by the
fields."

" But it will be six miles."

" Never mind if it's sixteen," said Louise, increasing her
pace.

" Hallo, girls," cried Harry, and they were obliged to
face round.

There was no warm look of welcome from either, but
Pradclle was too much of the London man of the world to
be taken aback, and he stepped forward to Louise's side,
smiling.

" You have chosen a delightful morning for your walk,
Miss Vine."

" Yes, but we were just going back."

" No ; don't go back yet," said Harry quickly, for he
had strung himself up. '* Vic, old boy, you walk on with
my sister. I want to have a chat with Miss Van Heldre."

The girls exchanged glances, each seeming to ask the
other for counsel.

Then, in a quiet, decisive way, Madelaine spoke.

" Yes, do, Louie dear ; I wanted to speak to your bro-
ther, too."

There was another quick look passing between the

THE HAl'TE :\'0/i/./:sSF..

friends, and then Louise bowed and walked on, Pradelle
giving Harry a short nod which meant, according to his
judgment, " It's all right."

Louise was for keeping close to her comjjanion, but her
brother evidently intended her to have a ictc-d tetc en-
counter with his friend, and she realised directly that Made-
laine did not second her efforts. In fact the latter yielded
at once to Harry's mancjeuvres, and hung back with him,
while Pradelle pressed forward, so that before many min-
utes had elapsed, the couples, as they walked west, were
separated by a space of quite a couple of hundred yards.

'* Now I do call that good of you^ Maddy," said Harry
eagerly. " You are, and you always were, a dear good
little thing."

" Do you think so ? " she said directly, and her plea; mt
bright face was now very grave.

" Do I think so ! You know I do. There, I want a
good talk to you, dear. It's time I spoke plainly, and that
we fully understood one another."

" I thought we did, Harry."

" Well, yes, of course, but I want to be more plain.
We're no boy and girl now."

" No, Harry, we have grown up to be inan and woman."

" Yes, and ever since we were boy and girl, ALiddy, I've
loved you very dearly."

Madclaine turned her clear searching eyes upon him in
the most calm and untroubled way.

** Yes, Harry, you have always seemed to."

" And you have always cared for me very much ? "

" Yes, Harry. Always."

" Well, don't say it in such a cold, serious way, dear."

" But it is a rnatter upon which one is bound to be cool
and very serious."

" Well, yes, of course. I don't know that people are
any the better for showing a lot of gush."

*' No, Harry, it is not so deep as the liking which is calm
and cool and enduring."

" I s'pose not," said the young man very disconcertedly.
" But don't be quite so cool. I know you too well to think
you would play with me."

" I hope I shall always be very sincere, Harry."

*' Of course you will. 1 know you will. ^Ve began by
being playmates — ahnost like brother and sister."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

'radelle

I to his

but her
tete en-
t Made-
yielded
th him,
ny min-
st, were
yards,
i Harry
ar good

[)lea: ant

want a
md that

c plain.

pie are

is calm

;rtedly.
o think

Igan by

''Yes, Harry."

" But I always felt as I grew older that I should some
day ask you to be my darling little wife, and, come now,
you always thought so too ? "

" Yes, Harry, 1 always thought so too."

' Ah, that's right, dear," said the young man flushing.
" You always were the dearest and most honest and plain-
spoken girl I ever met."

"I try to be."

" ( )f course ; and look yonder, there's old Pradelle, the
dearest and best friend a fellow ever had, talking to Louise
as I'm talking to you."

" Yes, I'm afraid he is."

*' Afraid ? Oh, come now, don't be prejudiced. I want
you to like Victor."

"That would be impossible."

" Impossible ! What, the man who will most likely be
Louie's husband ? "

'* Mr. Pradelle will never be Louie's husband."

'' What ! Why, how do you know ? "

" Because I know your sister's heart too well."

" And you don't like Pradelle ? "

" No, Harry ; and I'm sorry you ever chose him for a
companion."

" Oh, come, dear, that's prejudice . nvl a bit of jealousy.
Well, never mind about that now. 1 want to talk about
ourselves."

*'Yes, Harry."

*' I want you to ^-romise to be my little wife. I'm four-
and-lwenty, and you are nearly twenty, so it's quite time
to talk about it."

Mndelaine shook her head.

" Oh, come I " he said merrily, " no girl's coyness ; we
are too old friends for that, and understand one another
too well. Come, dear, when is it to be ? "

She turned and looked in the handsome flushed face
beside her, and then said in the most cool and matter-of-
fact way :

" It is too soon to talk like that. Harry."

" Too soon? Not a bit of it. You have told me that
you will be my wife."

" Some day ; perhajjs."

" Oh, nonsense, dear ! I've been thinking this all over

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

well. You see, Maddy, you've let my not sticking to busi*
ness trouble vou."

" Yes, Harry, very much."

** Well, I'm very ?:orry, dear ; and I suppose I have
been a bit to blame, l);it I've been doing distasteful work,
and I've been like a boat swinging about without an
anchor. I want you to be my anchor to hold me fast.
I've wanted something to steady me — something to work
for; and if I've got you for a wife I shall be a different
man directly."

Madelaine sighed.

" Aunt Marguerite won't like it, because she is not very-
fond of you."

" No," said Madelaine '* she does not like fat Dutch
frauleins — Dutch dolls."

" Get out ! What stuff ! .She's a prejudiced old woman
full of fads. She never did like you."

" Never, Karry."

'* Well, that doesn't matter a bit."

" No. That does not matter a bit."

" You see I've had no end of thinks about ail this, and
it seems to me that if we're married at once, it will settle
all the worries and bothers I've had lately. The governor
wants me to go to business again \ but what's the use of
that? He's rich, and so is your father, and they can
easily supjily us with all that we should want, and then we
shall be as happy as can l)e. Of course I shall work at
something. I don't believe in a fellow with nothing to do.
You don't either ? "

" No, Harry."

" Of course not, but all that toiling and moiling for the
sake of money is a mistake. Never mind what Aunt
Marguerite says. I'll soon work her round, and of course
I can do what I '"ke with the governor. He's so fond of
you that he'll i.^ delighted, and he knows ii will do me
good. So now there's nothing to <' ')ut for me to go and
see your father and ask his • > .sri .. I did think of
letting you coax him round; but . -x would be cowardly,
wouldn't it."

" Yes, Harry, very cowardly, and lower you very much
in my eyes."

*' Of course ; but, I say. don't be so serious. Well, it's
a bitter pill to swallow, for your governor will be down on

THE IIAl'TE NOBLESSE,

the

Liint

iirse

lich

lit's
on

me tremendously. I'll face lilm, thouirh. I'll talk about
our love and all that sort o'i thinu. and it will be all right.
I'll go to him to-day."

" No, Ilany," said Madelaine, looking him full in the
face, " don't do that."

"Why?"

" Because it would expose you to a very severe rebuff."

" Will you speak to him then ? No ; I'll do it."

" No. If you did my father would immediately speak
to me, aixl I should have to tell him what I am going to
tell you.'' ,

"Well. Outwilhit."

" Do you suppose," said Madelaine, once more turning
her clear frank eyes upon the young man, and speaking
with a quiet decision that startled him; "do you suppose
I could be so wanting in duty to those at home, so want-
ing in love to you, Harry, that I could consent to a
marriage which would only mean fixinc,' you permanently
in your present thoughtless ways? You talk like a foolish
boy, and not like the Harry Vine whom I have always
looked forward to being my protector through life."

" Madelaine 1 "

"Let me finish, Harry, and tell what has been on my
lijjs for months past, but which you have never given me
the ojDportunity to say to you till now. I am younger by
several years than you, l)ut do you think I am so wanting
in worldly experience that I am blind to your reckless
folly, or the pain you are giving father and sister by your
acts ? "

" Vv'hy, Maddy," he cried, in a voice full of vexation,
which belied the mocking laugh upon his lips, " I didn't
think you could preach like that,"

" It is lime to preach, Harry, when I see you so lost to
self-resi)ect, and find that you are .ready to place yourself
and the girl you wish to call wife, in a dependent position,
instead of proudly and manfully making yourself your own
master."

" Well, this is pleasant," cried Harry, as soon as he had
recovered somewhat from his astonishment, " and am I to
understand that you throw me over? "

" No, Harry," said Madelaine sadly, "you are to under-
stand that I care for you too much to encourage you in a
weak folly."

5«

rirE iLirTF. noblesse.

" A weak folly — to ask you what you have always expected
I should ash ! "

" Yes, to ask it at such a time wlien, after being placed
in post after ])0St by my father's help, and losing them one
by one by your folly, yoi; "

"Oh, come, that will do," cried the young man angrily;
*' if it's to be like this it's a !j;ood job that we came to an
explanation at once. So tliis is gentle, amiable, sweet-
tempered Madelaine, eh ! Hallo ! You ? "

He turned sharply, for during the latter part of the con-
\4ersati0n they liad been standing still, and Louise and
Pradelle had come over a stretch of sand with their foot-
steps inaudible.

" It is quite time we returned, Madelaine," said Louise
gravely; and without anolhr. word the two girls walked
away.

•' Ton my word," cried Hany with a laugh, " things are
improving. Well, Vic, how did you get on ? "

'* How did I get on indeed ! " cried Pradelle angrily.
*' Look here, Harry Vine, are you playing square with me ? "

" What do you mean ? "

" What I say ; are you honest, or have you been setting
her against me ? "

" Why you no, I won't quarrel," cried Harry.

" What did she say to you ? "

" Say to me ? I was never so snubbed in my life. Any
one would think I had been the dirt under her feet ; but
I've not done yet. Her ladyship doesn't know me if she
thinks I'm going to give up like that."

'■' There, that'll do, Vic. No threats, please."

*' Oh, no ; I'm not going to threaten. I can wait."

" Yes," said Harry, thoughtfully ; " we chose the wrong
time. We mustn't give up, Vir ; we shall have to wait."

And they went back to their old nook beneath the cliff to
smoke their pii)es, while as the thin blue vapour arose,
Harry's hot anger grew cool, and he began to think of his
aunt's words, of Comte Henri des Vignes, and of the fair
daughters of France — a reverie from which he was aroused
by his companion, as he said suddenly —

" I say, Harry lad, I want you to lend me a little coin."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

CHAPTER VII.

CHEZ VAN HELDRE.

The two friends parted at tlie gate, Madelaine refusing to
go in.

'* No," she said ; " they will be expecting me at home.

They kissed, and Lhcn stood holding one another's hands,
both wanting to relieve their full hearts, but dreading to
begin. Hardly a word had ])ecn spoken on their way
back, and such words as had been said were upon in-
different subjects.

But now the moment for parting had come, and they
gazed wistfully in each other's eyes.

Louise was the lirst to break the painful since.

" Maddy, dear, ought we not to confide in each other? "

'* Ah ! " exclaimed Madelaine, with a sigh of relief that
the constraint was over. " Yes, dear. Did Mr. Pradelle
pr ^i)0se to you? "

"Yes."

" And you told him it was impossible f "

" Yes. What did my brother want to say ? "

"That we ought to be married now, and it would make
him a better man."

" And you told him it was impossible ? "

"Yes."

There was another sigh as if of relief on both sides, and
I the two girls kissed again and parted.

It was a brisk quarter of an hour's walk to the Van

jHeldre's, which lay at the end of the main street up the

valley down wliich the little river ran ; and on entering

the door, witli a longi g upon her to go at once to her

room and sit down and cry, ^^ladelaine uttered a sigh full

jof misery, for she saw that it was impossible.

As she approached the great stone porch leading into

jthe broad hall, which was one of the most attractive look-

jing places in the house, filled as it was with curiosities and

)ther objects brought by the various captains from the

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

Mediterranean, and embracing cabinets from Constanti-
nople with rugs and jiipcs, little terra-cotta figures from
Sardinia, and pictures and pieces of statuary from Rome,
Naples, and Trieste — there was the sound of music, but
such music as might be expected from a tiny bird organ,
whose handle Mrs. Van Ileldre was turnijig as she gazed
wistfully up at a bullfinch, whose black cap was set on one
side, and little beady eyes gazed down from the first one
and then the other side of tlieir owner's little black stumpy
beak, which it every now and then used to ruffle the
delicate red feathers of its breast or the soft grey blue of
its back.

The notes that came from the little box-'Jike instrument
— a very baby of an organ — as !Mrs. Van Heldre turned,
were feeble in the extreme, but there was a method in the
machine which piped forth most irregularly and in the
most feeble way the quaint old French air '' Ma Nor-
mandie \ " and as Madclaine heard it, her broad white
forehead grew perplexed and a thrill of misery and dis-
comfort ran through her.

''Ah, my dear, I'm so glad you've come back. Where's
papa? "

"I have not seen him, mamma."

" Busy, I suppose. How he does work ! But do look,
dear, at this tiresome bird. He'll never learn to pipe."

" Not wiih patience, mamma? I think so."

" I don't, Maddy. It seems to take more patience than
I've got. It's worse than trying to teach that parrot. It
nevei' would learn the words you wanted it to."

" Is it worth the trouble, mamma, dear? "

" No, my dear, I don't think it is \ but I seemed to fancy
that I should like to have a piping bullfinch. Every body
has some fancy, dear ; and I'm sure mine's better than
Margaret Vine's for aristocratic connections. Ah ! how
cross that woman does make mc feel."

" She is rather irritating," said Madclaine, holding the
tip of a white finger between the bars of the cage.

"Irritating?" said the plump little woman flushing;
"I call her maddening. The life she leads that poor
patient man ! dictating "s she does, and worrying him
about the French estates and the family name, while
George Vine is so patient that "

" He would succeed in teaching a bullfinch to pipe,
mamma."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

anti-
from
ome,
:, but
igan,
razed
n one
;t one
iimpy
c the
ue of

.iment
irned,
in the
n the
L Nor-
white
id dis-

Hiere's

look,
pe."

le than
it. It

fancy

body

ir than

! how

the

shing ;
|t poor
him
while

'' Ah, now you're laughing at me, and thinking me weak ;
but it's better to have my weakness than hers. Only
fancy: ever since she formed that mad, fooHsh attachment
for that French scoundrel, wiio <:ijaxed tiie whole of her
money away from her and tlicn threw her over, has
George Vine taken her to liis home and let her tyrannise
over him. A silly woman ! Your fatlier always said the
man was a scamp. And, by the way, that Mr. Pradelle,
I don't like him, my dear.''

" Neither do I, manmia."

"Thai's right, my dear; I'm very glad to hear you say
so ; but surely Louie Vine is not going to be beguiled by
him ? "

"Oh, no."

" Ah, that's all very well ; but Taike Vine came in as he
went by, to say in his sneering fasliion that I.ouie and Mr.
Tradclle were down on the shore, and that you were walk-
ing some distance behind with Harry."

'•Mr. Luke Vine seems to have i)Ienty of time for watch-
ing his neighbours," said ^Lldelaine, contemptuously.

" Yes ; he is always noticing things ; but oo't blame
him, dear. I'm sure he means v»'ell, and I f .n forgive him
anything for that. Ah ! here's your father."

" Ah ! my dears," said Van Heldre cheerily. " Tired
out."'

■" You must be," said Mrs. Van Heldre, bustling about
him tu take his hat and gloves. '"Here do come and sit
down."

The merchant went into the drawing-room very readily,
and submitted to several little pleasant attentions from wife
and daughter, as he asked fiucstions about the bullfinch,
laughing siily the while at Aladelaine.

Evening came on with Van Heldre seated in his easy-
chair, thoughtfully watching wife and daughter, both of
whom had work in their laps ; but Mrs. Wan Heldrc's was
all a i)retence, for, after a few stitches, her head began to
nod forward, then back against the cushion, and then, as
if by magic, she was f:ist asleep.

^Ladelaine's needle, however, llcw fast, and she went on
working, with her father watcliir,g her attentively, till she
raised her eyes, let her hands rest in her lap, and
returned his gaze with a frank, calm look of love and trust
that made him nod his head \\\ a satisfied way.

pipe,

THE HAUTE A'OniESSE.

I El

" You want to say something to nic, Maddy," he said
in a low voice.

'' Yes, i)apa."

" Al)out your walk down on the beach? "

Madelaine nodded.

'* You know I went."

'* Yes ; I saw you, and Luke Vine came and told me as
well."

** It was very kind ot' him," said Madelaine, with a touch
of sarcasm in her voice.

" Kind and unkind, my dear. You see he has no busi-
ness — nothing t:> do but to ilii:.k ot" other people. But he
means well, my dear, aiul lir likes you."

" I have often thought S(.."

"Yes ; and you were riglit. He warned me that I was
not to let your intimacy grow closer with his nephew.

" Inded, papa ! "

" Yes, my dear. He said that T was a well, 1 will

not tell you what, for not stopping it directly, for that
Harry was rapidly drifting into a bad course — that it was
a hopeless case."

"That is not the way to redeem him, father."

" No, my dear, it is not. But you were going to say
something to me ? "

"Yes," said Madelaine, hesitating. Then putting down
her work she rose and went to her father's side, knelt
down, and resting her arms upon his knees, looked straight
up in his face.

"Well, Maddy?"

" I wanted to speak to you about Harry Vine."

There was a slight twitching about the merchant's brows,
but his face was calm directly, and he said coolly —

" What about Harry Vine ? "

Madelaine hesitated for a few moments, and then spoke
out firmly and bravely.

" I have been thinking about his position, father, and of
how sad it is for him to be wasting his days as he is down
here."

" Very sad, Maddy. He is, as Luke Vine savs, going
wrong. Well ? "

" I have been thinking, papa, that you might take him
into your office and give him a chance of redeeming the
past."

riiK iiAi'Ti: \o/:i /:::sK.

6 1

wid

*' Nice suggestion, my dear. \\'liat would old 0.11111)1011

say

ne as

touch

busi-
Jut he

I was

1 will

)r that

it was

to say

; down
', knelt
itraight

[brows,

spoke

and of
down

|, going

Ike him
ling the

" Mr. Crampton could only say that you had done a
very kind act for the son of your old friend."

"Humph : Well?"

" You could easily arrange to take him, papa, and with
your firm hand over him it would do an immense deal of
good."

" Not to me."

There was a pause during which Van Heldre gazed into
his child's unblenching eyes.

"So we are coming at facts,'' he said at last. " Harry
asked you to interfere on his behalf? "

Madelaine shook her head and smiled.

" Is this your own idea? "

'' Kntirelv."

" Then what was the meaning of the walk on the beach
to-day ? "

" Harry sought for it, and said that we had been play-
fellows from children, that he loved me vsry dearly, and
he asked me to be his wife."

" The "

Van Heldre checked himself.

*' And what did you say ? "

" That it was impossible."

" Then you do not care for him ? " cried Van Heldre
eagerly.

Madelaine was silent.

"Then you do not care for him?" said Van Heldre
again.

" I'm afraid I care for him very much indeed, father,"
said Madelaine firmly ; " and it grieves me so to see him
drifting away that I determined to ask you to come to his
help."

" Let me thoroughly understand you, my darling. You
love George Vine's so 1— your old friend's brother'? "

"Yes, father," said >[adelaine, in a voice little above a
whisper.

" And he has asked you to be his wife ? "

"Yes."

"Tell me what answer you g.ive him ? "

"In brief, that T would never marry a man so wanting
jin self-respect and independence as he has shown himself
to be."

THE IlAUrr. XO PL ESSE,

I I

"Hall!"

It was a softly-uttered ejaculation, full of .ontent.

" He said that our parcJits were ricii, that there was no
need for liim to toil as he had done, but tiiat if 1 consented
it would give him an impetus to work."

'* And you declined conditionally ? "

" I declined absolutely, father."

" And yet you love him? "

"I'm afraid I love him very dearly, father."

" You are a strange girl, Madelaine."

"Yes, father."

" Do you know what it means for me to take this wilful
young fellow into my office? "

" ^Iuch trouble and care."

" Yes. Then why should I at my time of life fill my
brain with worry and care ? "

" Because, as you have so often taught me, we cannot
live for ourselves alone. Because he is the son of your
very old friend."

" Yes," said Van Heldre softly.

*' Because it might save him from a downward course
now that there is, I believe, a crisis in his life."

" And because you love him, Maddy? "

She answered with a look.

" And if I were so insane, so quixotic, as to do all this,
what guarantee have I that he would not gradually lead
you to think differently — to consent to be his wife before
he had redeemed his character?"

" The trust you have in me that I should not do anything
you did not consider right."

" Hah ! " ejaculated Van Heldre again. And there was
another long silence.

" I feel that I must plead for him, father. It would be
the turning-point of his life. You could influence him so
much."

" I'm afraid not, mv child. If he has not the manliness
to do what is right for your sake, I'm afraid that anything
I could do or say would not be of much avail."

" You underrate your power, father," said Madelaine,
with a look full of pride in him.

"And if I did this I might have absolute confidence
that matters should go no farther until he had completely
changed ? "

THE HAUTE NO ni ESSE.

It.

: was no

)nscntt'd

lis wilful

fill my

e cannot
i of your

d course

» all this,
ally lead
e before

lything

lie re was

ould be
him so

lanliness
JLinything

idelaine,

Infidence
npletely

"You know you might."
" Hah : " sighed \'an Hold re.
*' Vou will think this over, father?
There is no need, my dear."

((

" No need?

'' No, my child. I Iiavc for some days past been think-
ig over liiis very thing, just in the liglit in which you
>lacc(l it."

You have, father ? "

Yes, and I had a long talk with George Vine this after-
noon resi)ecling his son."
Oh, father!"

I told liiin I could sec that the trouble was growing
>iggcr and telling ujjon him, and projjosod that I should
ike Harry here.''
Madclaine had started to her feet.

" Presuming that he docs not refuse afier his father has
lade my proposals known, Harry Vine comes here daily
|o work under Crampton's guidance."

Madclaine's arms were round her father's neck.
, " You have made me feel very happy and satisfied, my
4ear," said Van Heldre, pressing her to his breast; "and
ttiay heaven speed what is going to be a very arduous task.
He will commence in the office next week."

Just then Mrs. Van Heldre raised her head and looked
round.

• '* Bless my heart ! " she exclaimed. " I do believe I
have nearly been to sleep."

CHAPTER VHI.

■ UNCLE LUKE SPEAKS HIS MIND.

Hallo, Scotchman ! "

9 Hallo, Eng 1 mean, French — —What am I to call

•oi, Mr. Luke Vine?"

*? Englishman, of course."

Ui' le Luke was seated, in a very shabby-looking grey
weed Norfolk jacket made long, a garment which suited
"'"tastes, from its being an easy comfortable article of
re. He had on an old Panama hat, a good deal

77//; llAVTK NO lU. ESSE.

\ tte;'

stained, and a thick stick armed with a strong iron point
useful for walking among the rocks ; and nnon this staff he
rested as he sat outside liis cottage door watching the sea
and pondering as to the probability of a shoal of fish being
off tile point.

His home with its tiny scrap of rough walled-in garden,
whicii grew nothing l)Ut sea holly and tamarisk, was deso-
late looking in the extreme, but the view therefrom of the
half-natural j)ier sheltering the vessels in the harbour of the
twin town, with its busy wharves and warehouses and resi-
dences, rising in terrace above terrace, and of the blue,
ever-changing sea, was glorious.

He had had his breakfa'^t and taken his seat out in the
sunshine, when he became aware of tlie fact that Duncan
Leslie was coming down fior.i the mine buildings above,
and he hailerl him with a snarl and the above words.

*' Glorious morning."

" Humph ! Yes," said the old man, looking up at the
handsome young mine owner with his face all in lines,
" but what's that got to do with you ? "

" Everything. Do you suppose I don't like fine
weather ? "

** I thought you didn't care for anything but money
grubbing."

"Then you were mistaken, because 1 do.'

" Nonsense ! You (hin.. of nothing ])ut coi^per, spoiling
the face of nature with the broken rubbish your men dig
out of the bowel.s of th' eaali, poisoning the air with tlie
fumes of those abominable furnaces. Look at that ! "

The old man raised his stick and made a vicious dig
with it in the direction of the mine.

" Look at what ? "

"That shaft. Looks like some huge worm that your
men disturbed down below, and sent it crawling along the
hill slope till it could rear its abominable h?ad in the air
and look which way to go to be at rest."

" What an idea ! It isn't pretty loc-kin^^. I r.v^st say."

" Pretty looking ! No. Why do you have it then ? "

" It was there when 1 bought the mine, and it answers
its purpose."

" "^^ah ! What purpose? To make money ? "

" Yes ; to make money. Very useful tiling, Mr. Leslie."

" Rubbish ! You're as bad as Van Heldre v.ith his ships

I't

lA ^1

THE HAUTE XO /if. ESSE.

fis

and his smelting works. Money

oncy

Always money, morning, noon and night. One constant
limit for the accursed stuff. Look at mc

I "

»»

was looking at you, old fellow ; and studying you.

'• Humph ! Waste of time, unless you follow my
cxami)lc."

" Then it will be waste of time, sir, for I certainly shall
not follow your example."

" Why not, b.)y ? Look at me. I have no troubles. I
j)ay no rent. My wants are few. 1 am nearly indepen-
dent of trades-people and t.ix men. I've no slatternly wife
to worry me, no young children to be always tumbling
down the rocks or catching thv." measles. I'm free of all
these troubles and I'm a happy man."

" Well, then, your appearance belies you, sir, for you do
not look it," said Leslie, laughing.

" Never you mind my aj)pearance,'' said Uncle Luke
sharply. " I am hapjjy ; at least, I should be, if you'd do
away with that great smoky chimney and stop those rattling
stamps."

" Then I'm afraid that I cannot oblige you, neighbour."

" Humph ! Neighbour! "

" I fancy that an unbiassed person would blame you
and not me."

" Of course he would."

" He'd say if a man chooses to turn himself into a sort
of modern Diogenes "

" Diogenes be hanged, sir ! All a myth. I don't believe
there ever was such a body. And look here, Leslie, I
imitate no man — no myth. I prefer to live this way for my
own satisfaction, and I shall "

" And welcome for me, old fellow ; only don't scold me
for living my way."

'' Not going to. Here, stop ! I want to talk to you.
How's copper ? "

" Up a good deal, but you don't want to know."

" Of course I don't. But look here. What do you think
of my nephew? "

*' Tall, good-looking young fellow."

"Humph! What's the good of that? You know all
about him, of course ? "

*' I should prefer not to sit in judgment on the gentleman
in question."

1 m
I

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

" So I suppose. Nice boy, thougli. isn't he? "

Leslie- was silent.

''I ,y he's a nice boy; isn't he?" cried the old man,
raising his voice.

'* 1 heard what you said. He is your nephew."

" Worse luck ! How is he getting on at Van Hcldre's ? "

** I have not the least idea, sir."

" More have I. 'i'hcy won't tell me. Ho>y about that
friend of his ? What do vou think of him ? "

*' Really, Mr. Vine," said Leslie laughing, " I do not set
up as a judge of young men's character. It is nothing to
me."

" Ves, it is. Do you suppose I'm blind? Do you sup-
pose I can't tell wliich way the wind blows? If I were
young, do you know what I should do? "

" Do away with the chimney-shaft and the stamps," said
Leslie, laughing.

" No ; I should just get hold of that fellow some night,
and walk him to where the coach starts."

Leslie's face looked warm.

** And then I should say, * Jump up, and when you get
to the station, book for London ; and if ever you show
your face in Hakemouth again I'll break your neck.'"

" You must excuse me, Mr. Luke ; I'm busy this morn-
ing," said Leslie ; and he walked on and began to descend
the steep path.

" Toucliod him on the lender place," said Uncle Luke,
with a chuckle. " Humph ! wonder whether Louie will
come and see me to-day."

Duncan Leslie went on dov/n the zig-zag cliff-path lead-
ing from the Wheal Germains copper mine to the town.
It was a picturesque way, with a fresh view at every turn
west and east ; and an advanced member of the town board
had proposed and carried tlie suggestion of placing rough
granite seats here and there in the best parts for resting
those who climbed, and for giving others attractive places
for sunning themselves and looking out to sea.

The plan was a great success, and these seats were
largely patronised by the fishermen in the case of those
nearest the shore, where they could follow out their favour-
ite pastimo to the full, and also by the towns-people, espe-
cially by the invalids and those young folk who had arrived
at the billing and cooing stage of life, when there are only
two people m the world — themselves.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

About half-way down Leslie passed an invalid, "who had
taken jjosscssion of a scat, and was ga/.ing right away south,
and dreaming of lands where tiie sun always shone — won-
dering whether the bright maiden Health could be found
there.

Lower still Leslie was going on thoughtfully, pondering
on Unci J Luke's hints, when t!ie blood suddenly flushed
into his cheeks, his heart began to beat raj)idly, and he in-
creased his pace. For there unmistakably were two ladies
going down the zig-zag, and there were no two others in
llakcmouth could be mistaken for them.

He hurried on to overtake them. Then he checked
himself.

" Where had they been ? "

His sinking heart suggested that they had been on their
way to visit Uncle Luke, but that they had caught
sight of him, and in consequence returned.

His brow grew gloomy, and he walked slowiy on, when
the blood flushed to his cheeks again, as if he had been
surprised in some guilty act, for a sharp voice said —

"No, Mr. Leslie ; you would not be able to overtake
them now."

He stopped short, and turned to the warm sheltered
nook among the rocks where Aunt Margaret was seated;
her grey lavender dress was carefully spread about her,
her white hair turned back beneath a black velvet satin-
lined liood, and a lace fichu pinned across her breast.

" Vou here. Miss Vine? " said Leslie, hiding his annoy-
ance.

*' Yes ; and I thought I would save you a thankless
effort. I know these paths so well, and they are very
deceptive as to distance. You could not overtake the girls
unless you ran."

" I was not going to try and overtake them. Miss Vine,"
s-.id Leslie coldly.

" Lndced ! 1 beg your pardon ; I thought you were.
But would you mind, Nh-. Leslie — it is a very trifling re-
quest, but I set store by these little relics of our early his-
tory — yWv3> Marguerite Wvid, if you W(juld be so kind?"

Leslie bowed. " Certainly, Miss ^L^,rguerite " he said
quietly.

"Thank you," she said, detaining him. "It is very
good of you. Of course you are surprised to see me up
here ? "

THE HAUTE XOBLESSE,

\\:

** Oh, no," said Leslie quietly. *' It is a delightful place
to sit and rest and read."

" Ve — es ; l)iit I cannot s.iy thnt I care much for the
rough walking (jf this ])art (.f the world, nnd my brother
seems somehow to have taken (juite a di.slike to the idea
of having a carriage ? "

*'Ves?"

** So I am obliged to walk when I do come out. There
are certain duties one is forced to attend to. For instance,
there is my poor brother up yonder. I feel bound to see
him from time to time. Vou sec him frequently, of
course ? "

*' Every day, necessarily. "^Ve are so near."

"Poor fellow! Yes. Very eccentric and peculiar; but
you need be under no apprehension, Mr. Leslie. He is
quite harmless, I am sure."

" Oh, (juite harmless, Miss Marguerite. Merely original."

" It is very good of you to call it originality ; but as
friends, Mr. Leslie, there is no harm in our alluding to his
poor brain. Softening, a medical man told me."

*' Hardening, I should say," thought Leslie.

"Very peculiar ! very peculiar I Father and uncle both
so different to my d^ar nephew. So you were going to
overtake the girls ? "

" No, Miss Marguerite ; I liad no such idea."

" Indeed ! They walked with me as far as here ; and
then I said, ' My dears, it is im])ossible for me to go up
to Uncle I>uke to-day, so I will sit down and rest, and go
back alone.' I believe the air will refresh me."

" I am sure it will. It is so fresh and sweet up here."

" Ye — es," said Aunt Marguerite. '' Have you seen my
nephew to-day? No? Poor boy 1 He is in very bad
spirits. Ah ! Mr. Leslie, I shall be very glad to see him
once more as a des \'ig'aes should l)e. \Vith him placed
in the i)o:;ition that should 1)j his, aiul that engagement
carried out rega'-ding my darling Louise's future, 1 could
leave this world of sorrow without a sigh."

Leslie winced, but it was not jicrci^ptible to Aunt Mar-
guerite, who, feeling dissatislu d with the result of her
shot, fired again.

" Of course it would ii.volve losing my darling ; but at
my lime of life, Mr. Leslie, one has learned tha; it is one's
duty always to study self-sacrifice. The des Vignes were

THr. IIAl'TE XOIU ESSE

alwny>
some on

If-^acrificinL: f.iniilv. \Vhcn il was not for

e or oilier ol" their kindred it was for llu

king,

and then for their faith. \'ou know i.)ur old ['rcnc', motto,
Mr. Leslie?"

'• I ? No. I Iteg pardon."

'' Really ? I should have tlioiight you could not fail to
see that. Il is almost the only trace of our former great-
ness that my misguided brother •"

'• Were you alluding to Mr. Luke \'ine ? "

" No, no, no, no ! To my brother, (leorge dcs Vignes.
Surely, Mr. Leslie, you must have nou.'d our arms upon
the dining-room windows."

" Oh, yes, of course, of course ; and the motto, Roy et
Foyr

*' Exactly," said Aunt >Lirgucrite, smiling, '' I thought
it must have caught your eye.''

Something else was calcliing Duncan Leslie's eye just
then — tlie last ilutter of the scarf Louise wore before it dis-
appeared round the f)ot of the cliff

" I shall bear it. I daresay, and with fortitude, Mr. Leslie,
for it will be a g:anil }»osition that sh.e will take. The de
Lignys are a family almost as old as our own ; antl fate
might arrange for me to visit them and make a h^ng stay.
She's a sweet girl, is she not, Mr. Leslie?"

"Miss Vine? Yes : you must be very j)roud of her,"
said the young man, without moving a muscle.

" We are ; we are indeed, Mr, Leslie ; but I am afraid
I am detaining you.''

" I will not call it detaining me, Miss ^^arglIcrite," said
Leslie, mockingl\ issimiing a courtly manner in accord
with that of his tormentor. " The Scotch had so much,
intercourse with the Trench years ago that they gave us a
little polish, and I hope we have some trace of the old
politeness left."'

lie smiled and bowed before passing o-.i. and .Vunt Mar-
guerite watched him till he disappeared dou'n tlie zig-zag
]Kith, her own smile remaining so fixed llu.t it seemed to
be frozen on Ik r lip, tlie more so that il was a cold, cruel-
looking smile, verging on the malignant as she said soflly--

"Tliat will be something for ynu to think about, Mr.
Duncan Leslie ; and you shall find I am not a woman to
be despised."

" It is curious." said the object of her thoughts, as he

;::■

Till-: HAUTE XOBLl.SSE,

walked slowly down the clifT-])ath. " Surely there was
never a family l)ef*)re whose various members were so dif-
ferent in their ways. De Ligny, de l.igny ? Who is de
Ligny? Well," he added witli a sigh, ** I ought to thank
Heaven that the name is not Pradelle."

CHAPTER IX.

IN OFFICE HOURS.

" Now, my dear Mr. Crampton, believe me, I am only
actuated by a desire to do good."

" That's exactly what actuates me, sir, when I make
bold, after forty years' service with you and your father, to
tell you that you have made a great mistake."

'•All men make mistakes, Crampton," said Van Heldre,
to his plump, grey, stern-looking head clerk.

" Yes, sir ; but if they are then worth their .salt they see
where they have made a mistake, and try and correct it.
We did not want him."

"As far as actual work to be done, no ; but I will tell
you plainly why I took on the young man. I wish to help
my old friend in a peculiarly troubled period of his life."

"That's you all over, Mr. Van Heldre," said the old
clerk, ])inching his very red nose, and then arranging his
thin hair with a pen-holder ; " but I can't feel that it's right.
You sec the young man d(jn't take to his work. He comes
and goes in a sui)ercilious manner, and treats me as if I
were his servant."

" Oh, that will soon pass off, Crampton."

" I hope so, Mr. Van Heldre, sir, but his writing's as
bad as a schoolboy's."

" That will im])rove."

" He's always late of a morning."

" I'll ask him to correct that."

" And he's always doing what I hate in a young man,
seeing how short is life, sir, and how soon we're gone — he's
always looking at the clock and yawning."

" Never mind, Cramj'ton, he'll soon give up all that sort
of thing. The young man is like an ill-trained tree. He
has grown rather wild, but now he has been transplanted

THE ILirTR XOni.ESSJ-..

to an orderly office, to be under your constant f^upcrvision,
he will gradually imbibe your habits and precision. It
will be his making."

" Now, now, now," said the old clerk, shaking his head,
'■'■ that's flattering, sir. My habits and })rccision. No, no,
sir ; I'm a very bad clerk, and I'm growing old as fast as I
can."

" Vou are the best clerk in the west of England, Cramp-
ton, and you are only growing old at the customary rate.
And now to oblige me, look over these little blemishes in
the young man's character. There is a good deal of the
spoiled boy in him, but I believe his heart's right ; and for
more reasons than one I want him to develop into a good
man of business — such a one as wc can make of him if we
try."

" Don't say another word, Mr. \ an Heldre. You know
me, and if I say as long as the young man is honest and
straightforward I'll do my best for him, I sui)pose that's
.sufficient."

"• More than sufficient, Crampton."

" But you know, sir, he ought to have made some little
advance in a month.''

" No, no, Crampton," said Van Heldre, smiling," he has
not grown used to the new suit yet : have patience, and he'll
come right."

''That's enough, sir," said Crampton, climbing on to a
hJL^h stool in front of a well-polished desk, "now for
business. The St. Aiihyn has taken in all her cargo, and
will sail to-morrow, ^^'e ought soon to have news of the
Miuh'laine. By the way, I hope Miss Madelaine's quite
Well, sir. Haven't seen her for a day and a half."

" Quite well, Crampton."

" That's right, sir," said the old man, smiling and
rubbing his hands. " Bless her ! I've only one thing
against her. \\\\\ wasn't she a boy ? "

Van Heldre smiled at his old confidential man, who still
rubbed his hands softly, and gazed over his silver-rimmed
spectacles at a file of bills of lading hanging from the wall.

"What a boy she would ha\e made, and what a man I
euuld have made of him I Van Heldre and Son once more,
iis it ought to be. I'd have made just such a man of
business of him as I made of you. Going, sir? "'

■' Yes, I'm going up to Tol/arn. By the way, send Mr.
Henry Vine up to me about twelve."

TITR HAUTE NOBLESSE.

" Yes, Fir," said Cnimi)ton, beginning to write away-
very l)usily. " I suppose he'll come ? "

** Of course, of course," said \'an Heldre hastily, and
leaving the oflice he went into the house just as Mrs. Van
Heldre had made her way into the hall to cover u]; her
bullfinch's cage ; and her hand was upon the bird organ
when she heard her husband's stej), when, colouring like a
girl, slie hurried uj^stairs.

Van Heldre crossed the hall and entered the morning-
room, where Madelaine was busy with her needle.

She looked at him in an inquiring way, to which he had
become accustomed during the past month, and in accor-
dance with an unwritten contract.

" No, my dear, not come yet."

INIadclaine's countenance changed as she saw her father
glance at his watch, and she involuntarily darted a quick
look at the clock on the chimney-])iece.

" I'm going up to the works," continued Van Heldre.
** Back before one. Morning,"

Madelaine resumed her work for a few minutes, and
then rose to stand where, unseen, she could watch the
road. .She saw her father go by up the valley, but her
attention was turned toward the sea, from which direction
Harry Vine would have to come.

She stood watching for nearly a quarter of an hour
before she heard a familiar step, and then the young man
passed smoking the end of a cigar, which he threw away
before turning in at the way which led to Van Heldre's
offices.

Directly after, as Madelaine sat looking very thoughtful
over her work, there was the (juick patter of Mrs. Van
Heldre's feet.

'* Madelaine, my dear," she said as she entered ; " I
thought you said that }Ir. Pradelle had gone away a fort-
night ago."

" 1 did, mamma."

" Well, then, he has come back agam."

" l>ack again? " said ATadelaine, letting her work fall in
her la]).

"■ Yes, I was at llic up-stairs window just now, and I saw
him i)ass as I was looking out for Harry Vine. He's very
late this morning, and it does UKikc papa so vexed."

It was late, for ir.stcad (f being nine o'clock, the clock

TiiF. n.ii'n: xoni i:ssi-:.

in the office was on the stroke of ten as Tlarry Vine
hurriedly entered, and glanced at the yeliowy-whiie faced
dial.

''Morning, Mr. Crampton. 1 say that clock's fast, isn't

Kh ? fast ? " said the old man grimly. " \o, Mr.
Harry \'ine ; that's a steady old time-keeper, not a modern
young man."

" Disagreeable old hunks," said Harry to himself, as he
hung up his hat. ''Bad headache this morning, Mr.
Crampton, thought T shouldn't he able to come."

Seidlitz powder," said the old man, scratching away

with his pen, and without looking u}j.

Y\\ ?

" Dissolve the blue in a tuml)ler of warm water."

" Bother ! " muttered Harry, frowning.

"The white in a wineglassful of cold. Pour one into
the other — and — drink — while effervescing."

The intervals between some of the words were filled up
by scratches of the pen.

" Headache, eh ? Bad things, sir, bad things."

He removed himself from his stool and went to the safe
in the inner office, where Van Heldre generally sat, and
Harry raised his head from his desk and listened, as he
heard the rattling of keys and the clang of a small iron
door.

" Yes, bad things headaches, Mr. Harry," said the old
man returning. " Try early hours for 'em, and look here :
Mr, \'an Heldre says "

" Has he been in the office this morning ? " cried Harry
hastily.

" Yes, sir, he came in as soon as I'd come, nine to the
minute, and he wants you to join him at the tin works
about twelve."

" Wigging ! " said guilty conscience.

" Do your head good, sir."

C)ld Crampton resumed his seat, and for an hour and
three quarters, during which period Harry had several
times looked at the clock and yawned, there was a
constant scratching of pens.

Then Harry Vine descended from his stool.

" I'd better go now ? "

" Yes, sir, you'd better go now. And might have gone

f I

.1 '

THE riACTE NOBLESSE.

1)ef()rc for all the good you've done," grumbled the old
man, as Harry passed the window. "Tut — tut — tjt !
What careless writing. He's spoiling my books, that he
is."

The old man had hardly spent another half-hour over
his work when there was a sharp tapping at the door, such
as might be given by the knob on a stick.

" Come in."

The door was opened, and Pradelle entered and gave a
sharp look round.

" JNIorning," he said in a cavalier way. " Tell Mr. Vine
I want to speak to him for a moment."

Old Crami)ton looked up from \ is writing, and fixed
his eyes on the visitor's hat.

" is^ot at home," he said shortly.

" How long will he be ? "

" Don't know."

" Where has he gone ? "

" Tin works," said Crampton, resuming his writing.

"Confounded old bear ! " muttered Pradelle as he went
out, after frowning severely at the old clerk, who did not
see it.

" Idle young puppy ! " grumbled Crampton, dotting an
I so fiercely that he drove his pen though the paper.
I'd have knocked his hat off if I had had my ruler handy.
Now what does he want, I wonder ? "

Van Heldre was busy at work with a shovel when
Harry Vine reached the tin-smelting works, which the
merchant had added to his other ventures. He was
beside a heap of what rather resembled wet coarsely ground
coffee.

" Ah, Harry," he said, '* you may as well learn all these
things. Be useful some day. Take hold of that shovel
and turn that over. Tell me what you think of it."

A strong mind generally acts upon one that is weak, and
it was so here.

Harry felt disposed, as he looked at his white hands, the
shovel, and the heap, to thrust the said white hands in his
pocket and walk away.

But he took the shovel and plunged it in the heap,
lifted it full, and then with a look of disgust said : —

" What am I to do with it ? "

" Shovel it away and get more out of the centre.*'

THE HAUTE XO EI. ESSE.

Harry obeyed, and looked up for fresh orders.

" Now take a couple of handfuls and examine them.
Don't be afraid, man, it's honest dirt."

Van Heldre set the example, took a handful and poured
it from left to right and back again.

" Now," he said, " take notice ; that's badly washed."

" Not soap enough," said Harry, hiding his annoyance
with an attempt at being facetious.

"Not exactly," said Van Heldre drily; "bad work.
Now when that tin is jiasscd through the furnace, there'll
be twice as much slag and refuse as there ought to be.
That will do. Leave the shovel, I want you to take
account of those slabs of tin. Mark them, number
them, and enter them in this book. It will take you an
hour. Then bring the account down to me at the oftice."

" I can have a man to move the slabs ? " said Harry.

" No, they are all busy. If I were doing it, I should
work without a man."

" Hang it all ! I'm about sick of this," said Harry, after
he had been alone about half an hour, and feeling more
disgusted moment by moment with his task. " How mad
Aunt Marguerite would be if she could see me now ! "

He looked round at the low dirty sheds on one side, at
the row of furnaces on the other, two of which emitted a
steady roar as the tin within gradually turned from a
brown granulated powder to a golden fluid, whose stony
scum was floating on the top.

" It's enough to make any man kick against his fate.
Nice occupation for a gentleman, 'pon my word ! "

A low whistle made him look uj) quickly, and his coun-
tenance brightened.

" Why, Vic," he cried ; " I thought you were in
town."

" How are you, my Trojan ? '" cried the visitor
boisterously. " I was in town, but I've come back. I say,
cheerful work this for Monsieur le Comte Henri des
Vigncs ! "

" Don't chaff" a fellow," said Harry angrily. " What
brought you down ? "

" Two things."

" Now, look here, Vic. Don't say any more about that.
Perhaps after a time I may get her to think differently,
but now "

THE if.irr/: xonrj-issi:.

** I was not going to say anything al)()iit your sister, my
dcnr l)oy. I <aii wait and hear anyiliing. Jiul 1 suppose
I may say sonicthuig alK)Ut yuu ? "

"Aln)utmc?"

"Yes. I've g(jt a splendid tln'ng on. Safe to make
money — heaps ol it."

" \'es ; l)ut your S( h^'mcs always want money first."

** Well, hang it all, lad I you can't expect a'l oj) of jjotatoes
without planting a few hits first. It wouldn't want much.
Only about fifty jjounds. A hundred would be better, but
wc could make fifty do.''

Harry shook his head.

'* Come, coine ; you JKivcn't heard luilf yet. I've the
genuine inf(H'mati(jn. Itv^-ouul bj worth a pile of money.
It's our chance now — such a chance as may never occur
again."

" No, no ; don't tcmi)t me, Vic," .said Harry, after a
long whi.;j)ered conversation.

'•Tempt? 1 feel dis] .ed to force you, lad. It makes
me half wild to sej you degradetl to such work as this.
Why, if we do as I ])roj)ose you will be in a ])osition to
follow out your aunt's instructions, engage lawyers to push
on your case, and while you obtain youi^ rights, 1 sliall be
in a jiosilion to ask your sister's hand without the chance
of a refusal. I tell you the thing's safe.''

" Xo, no," said Harry, slialcing his liead ; " it's too risky.
Wc should lose and be worse off than ever."

" With a horse like that, and me with sate i)rivatc infor-
mation abcjut him ! ''

'• X(s'' said Harry, '' I won't. I'm going to keep stead-
ily on here, and, as the governor calls it, plod."

"'Hiat you're not, if I know it," cried Pradelle indig-
nantly. '• I won't stand it. It's disgraceful. Vou shan't
throw yourself away.''

" But I've got no money, old fellow."

*' Nonsense ! Get some t)f the old man."

*' No ; I've done it too often. He won't stand it now."

" Well, of yt)ur aunt."

"She hasn't a penny but what my father lets her have."

** Your sister. Come, she would let you have some."

Harry shook his head.

" No, I'm not going to ask her. It's no good, Vic; I
won't."

THE Il.irTE XO HI. ESSE.

"Well,'' said Pradello, apci trophism^ .in ingot of tin as
it lay at his feet glistening with iridescent hues, " if any one
had told me, I wouldn't have believed it. Why, Harry,
lad. you've only been a month at this mill-horse life, and
V 'ii're (juite changed. Wiuit have they been doii.g to vou,
m.m?"

•' IJrraking my spirit, I suppose, they'd call it," said the
young man bitteriy.

'* Nonsense ! yours isn't a s])irit to be broken in to a
begL^arly trade. Think of what your aunt has said to you,
as well as to me. Vour estates, vour title, the woman
yiju are to marr\ . ^Vhy, Harry, lad, you don't think I'm
L;oing to sit still and see you break down without a word ? "

Harry shook his In ad.

"(iet out! I won't have it. You want waking up,"
.said Pradelle iu a low, earnest voice. " Think, lad, a few
1' 'imds j)la( <■'! as 1 could ])lace 'em. and there's fortune for
ui both, without reckoning on what you could do in
1 ranee. As your aunt say-, there's money and a title
waiting for you if you'll only stretch out your hand to take
'em. Come, rouse yourself". Harry \'ine isn't the lad to
settle down to this drudgery. Why, I thought it was one
of the workmen when I came up."

*' It's of no use," said Harry gloomily, as he seated him-
self on the ingots of tin. " A man must submit to his fate."

" ]5.ih ! a man's fate is what he makes it. Look here ;
fifty or a hundred borrowed for a few di'ys, and then repaid."

•• But sujipose "

'•Suppose!" cried Pradelle mockingly; "a business
man has no time to supjjose. iio strikes while the iron's
liot. You're going to strike iron, not tii.\"

" How ? Where's the \\\ )ney ? "

" Where's the money ? " said Pradelle mockingly. " You
want fifty or a hundred for a few days, wher you . ()uld
return it fifty times over ; and you say, where's the money } "

" Don't I tell ou I have no one I could borrow from? "
said Harry angrily.

" Yes, you have," said Pradelle, sinking his voice. " It's
easy as easy. Only for a few days. A temj)orary loan.
Look here."

He bent down, and whispered a few words in the young
man's ear, words which turned him crimson, and then
deadly pale.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

" Pradcllc ! " he cried, in a hoarse whisper \ *' are you
mad ? "

"No. I was thinking of coming over to Aiivergnc to
spend a month with my friend, the Count. JJy-and-by,
dear lad — by-and-by."

" No, no ; it is impossible," said Harry hoarsely, and he
gave a hasty glance round.

" No," wiiispcrcd Pradelle, " no ; it is not imi)ossible,
but as simple as A 15 C."

"Rut," faltered Harry, who was trem])ling now.

** Hush ! some one coming. No ; you need not mind,"
said Pradelle with a sneer ; ** only two ladies walking up
the road. Now, I wonder whom they've come to sec."

** No, no," said Harry in a husky whisper, as his com-
panion's last words seemed unheeded j " I couldn't do
that."

"You could," said Pradelle, and then to himself: "and,
if I know you, Harry Vine, you shall."

CHAPTER X.

HARRY VINE HAS A WANT.

Breakfast-time, with George Vine quietly partaking of
his toast, and giving furtive glances at a Beloe in a small
squat bottle. He was feeding his mind at the same time
that he supplied the wants of his body. Now it was a
bite of toast, leaving in the embrowned bread such a mark
as was seen by the dervish when the man asked after the
lost camel : for the student of molluscous ^ica life had lost
a front tooth. Now it was a glance at the little goose-
berry-shaped creature, clear as crystal, glistening in the
clear water with iridescent hues, and trailing behind it a
couple of filaments of an extreme delicacy and beauty that
warranted the student's admiration.

Louise was seated opposite, performing matutinal experi-
ments, so it seemed, with pots, cups, an urn, and various
infusions and crystals.

Pradelle was reading the paper, and Harry was dividing
his time between eating some fried ham and glancing at
the clock, which was pointing in the direction of the hour
when he should be at Van Heldre's.

THE IIAVTE XOIU.ESSE

"More ten, T-ouio ; too sweet," said the head of the
lioiisc, ])assing liis cwj), rid IMadellc.

'ri\c cup was filled up and passed iiack, Louise failing to
notice that Pradelle niaiKjeuvtcd to touch iier hand as he
played liis part in the transfer. 'I'hen the door opened,
and Liza, the brown-fLired, black-haired Cornish maid,
enl<*red, bearing a tray willi an untouched cup of tea, a
brown i)iecc of ham 'm its j)late, and a little covered dish
of hot toast.

'* Please, 'm, Miss Vine says she don't want no break-
fast this morning."

The Bcloe bottle dropi)ed back into George Vine's
po( ket.

" I''.h? My sister ill ? '' he said anxiously.

" No, sir ; she seems quite well, but she was gashly
cross with me, and said why didn't Miss Louie bring it
up."

" Liza, I forbade you to use that foolish word — * gashly,' "
said Louise, pouring out a fresh cuj) of tea, and changuig
it for the one cooling on the tray.

" Why don't you take up auntie's breakfast as you
always do ? You know she doesn't like it sent uj).'' '

Louise made no reply to her brother, but turned to
Pradelle.

" Vou will excuse me for a few minutes, Mr. Pradelle,"
she said as she rose.

"Excuse — you?" '^e :o^ ied with a peculiar smile;
and, rising in turn he loan-Vv^ed so badly as he hurried to
the door to open i; ior Louif j's passage with the tray, that
he and Liza, bent on the ?; • c errand, came into collision.

" Thank you, Air PraO'lle," said Louise, cpiietly, as she
passed out with the tray, and Liza gave him an indignant
glance as she closed the door.

" PLij ha ! What a bungle ! " cried Harry mockingly,
as he helped himself to more ham.

George Vine was absorbed once more in the study of
the Be he.

" Never you mind, my lord the count," said Pradelle in
an undertone ; '' I don't see that you get on so very well."

Harry winced.

" What are you going to cjo this morning? "

"Fish!"

" Humph ! well to be you," said Harry, with a vicious

TIfE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

bite at hir> bread, while liis fnllier was ion i,. . h al^soibed
in i\is study even to hear. " \'oirre going hjaling about,
and I've got to g(j and turn that grindstone."

" Which you can leave wlienever you Hkc," said Pradelle
meaningly.

'• Mold your tongue !" cried Harry roughly, as the door
re-opened, and Louise, looking sliglitly Hushed, again took
her i)lace at the tal>lc.

" Aunt poorly ? " said Vine.

" Oh, no, i)apa ; she is having her breakfast now."

'* If you're too idle to take Uj) auntie's breakfast, I'll
take it," said Harry severely. " Don't send it up by that
girl again,"

" I shall always take it myself, Harry," said Louise
quietly.

The breakfast was ended ; George Vine v.cnt to his
study to feed his sea anemones on chopi)ed wlielk ; Pra-
delle m.ide an excuse about fishing lines, after reading
plainly enough that his presence was imwelcome ; and
Harry stood with his hands in his pockets, looking on as
his sister put away the tea-caddy.

"Will you n jt be late, Harry?"

" Perha])s," lie said, ill-humouredly. " I shall be there as
soon as old bottle nose, I daresay."

'' How long is Mr. Pradelle going to stay? "

" Long as'l like."

There was a ]),uise. Then Harry continued : " He's a
friend of mine, a gentleman, and Aunt Marguerite likes him
to stay."

"Yes," said Louise gravely. "Aunt Marguerite seems
to like him."

"And so do you, only you're such a T)rccious coquette."

Louise raised her eyebrows. This was news to her, but
she saiil nothing.

" The more any one sees of Pradelle the more one
likes him. Deal nicer fellow than that Scotch prig
Leslie."

There Vas a slight flush on Louise \'ine's face, but she
did not speak, merely glanced at the clock.

"All right; I'm n.,)t going yet,"

Then, clianging his inanner —

" Oh, Lou, you can't think wliat a life it is," he cried
impetuously.

THE IlArTK XOBI.ESSE.

te seems

" W'lv, Ilarrv, ii oiiLrlU t^ be a very ])lcasant oiie."

" What, \\\\\\ yii'.ir iv.)- c ovit aii account Ixiok, and every
linio )0U liai>i'C!i to hxjk up, old C>ami)ton staring at you
ui nii:c!i as to say. * \\\\\ doii"t yt u p;o on ? ' "

'• Never mind, dear. Try and think that it is for your
gooi!.

'* For my good I " he said with a mocking kuigh.

" 'V'cs, and to please raliie:-. ^\'hy, Harry, dear, is it not
somethini' to have a chance to redeem vour charact'-r? "

•' Redeem my gran(hiK;lher I I've never lost it. Why,
l>oii, it's too bad. Here's lather rich as a Jew, and Uncle
JAiko with no end of money."

•' Has lie, Harry? " said Louise thoughtfully. '* Really
I dnn't know."

" I'm sure he lias — lots. A jolly old miser, and no one
tvj leave it to ; and I don't see then why I should be ground
down to work like an errand boy."'

" Don't make a sentimental grievance of it, dear, but go
and do your duty like a man."

" If I do my duty like a man I shall go and try to recover
the French estates which my father neglects."

'• No, don't do that, dear ; go and get my (jld school
spcllingd)0ok and read the fable of the dog and the
shadow."

'• There } ou go, sneering again. You women can't
understand a lelluw. Here am I worried to death for
money, and have to drudge as old \'an Heldre's clerk."

** Worried for money, Harry ? What nonsense 1 "

'' I am. You don't know. 1 say, I,ou, tlear."

"Now, Ilairv ! vou will be so late."

" I won't go at nil if you don't listen to me. Look here ;
I want fiftv jtounds."

"What for?"

•' Never mind. Will you lend it to me? "

"lint what can you want with fifty pounds, Harry?
You're not in debt ? "

" You've got some saved uj). Now, lend it to me, there's
a good girl ; I'll ])ay you again, honour bright."

" Harry, I've lent you money till I'm tired of lending,
and \ou never do pay me back."

"But I will this time."

Louise shook her head.

"What, you don't believe me?"

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

" I believe you would pay nic ngain if you had the
money ; but if I lent it you would spend it, and be as poor
as ever in a month."

" Not this time, Lou. Lend it to mc."

She shook her head.

'* Then hang me if I don't go and ask Duncan Leslie."

" Harry ! No ; you would n(^t degrade yourself to
that."

" Will you lend it?"

'' No."

"Then I will ask him. The poor fool will think it will
please you, and lend it directly. I'll make it a hundred
whilst I'm about it."

** Harry !"

** Too late now," he cried, and he hurried away.

" Oh ! " ejaculated Louise, as she stood gazing after him
with her cheeks burning. '* No," she said, after a pause ;
" It was only a threat ; he would not dare."

"Harry gone to his office.^" said Vine, entering the
room.

"Yes, dear."

" Mr. Pradclle gone too ? "

"Yes, dear; fishing, I think."

" Hum. Makes this house (|uite his home."

" Yes, papa ! and do you tliink we are doing right? "

" Eh ? " said Vine shar})ly, as he dragged his mind back
from wliere it had gone under a tide-covered rock. " Oh,
I see, about having that young man here. Well, Louie, it's
like this : I don't want to draw the rein too tightly. Harry
is at work now, and keeping to it. Van Heldre says his
conduct is very fair. Harry likes Mr. Pradelle, and they
are old companions, so I feel disposed to wink at the
intimacy, so long as our boy keeps to his business."

" Perhaps you are right, dear." said Louise.

"You don't like Mr. Pradelle, my dear? "

"No, I do not.''

" No fear of liis robbing me of you, eh ? "

"Oh, :ather!"

" That's right ; that's right ; and look here, as we're
talking about that little thing which makes the world
go round, please, understand this, and help me, my dear.
There's to be no nonsense between Harry and Made-
laine."

" Then you don't like Madelaine? '*

THE ILll'TE XOBl ESSE.

" Eh ? What ? Not like her ? ]Mess her ! You've almost
cause to be jealous, only you need not be, for I've room in
my heart for both of you. I love her too weli to let her be
made uncomfortable by our family scape-grace. Dear me !
I'm sure that it has."

" Have you lost anything, dear? "

" Yes, a glass stoi)i)er. Perhaps I left it in my room.
Mustn't lose it; stoppers cost money."

" And here's some money of yours, father."

"Kh? Oh, that change."

" Twenty-five shillings."

"Put it on the chimmy-piecc, my dear; Til take it
presently. We will not be hard on Harry. Let him have
his companion. We shall get him round by degrees. Ah,
here comes some one to tempt you away."

In effect Madelaine was passing the window on her way
to the front entrance ; but \'ine forgot all about his glass
stopj)cr for the moment, and threw open the glass door,

"Come in here, my dear," he said. "We were just
talking about you."

"About me, Mr. Yine ? Whatever were you saying?"

" Slander of course, of course."

" My father des , A to be kindly remembered, and I was
to say, ' Very satisfactory so far.' "

"Very satisfactory so far? " said Vine, dreamily.

" He said you would know what it meant."

"To be sure — to be sure. Louie, my dear. I'm afraid
vour aunt is right. My brain is getting to be like that of a
jelly fish."

He nodded laughingly and left the room.

" Did you meet Harry as you came ? " said Louise, as
soon as they were alone.

" Yes ; but he kept on one side of the street, and I was
on the other."

*' Didn't he cross over to speak ? "

" Xo ; he couldn't see the Dutch fraulein — the Dutch
Idoll."

"Oil, that's cruel, Maddy. I did not think my aunt's
[^vords could sting you."

" Well, sometimes I don't tliink they do, but at others
Ithcy seem to rankle. I'ut, look, isn't that Mr. Pradelle
[coming ? "

For answer Louise caught her friend's hand to hurry her
lout of the room before Pradelle entered.

■ t

THE HA (■/•/: XO/iLESSE.

CIIAPTl'.R X[.

AINT M.\R(;rKKHK SrUDIKs A COMF.DY.

That morning aflcr breakfast Aunt Marguerite sat by her
oi)cn window in her old-fashioned French /^'/^''Wt^/V.

Sl^.e saw Pradelle go out, and she smiled and beamed as
lie turned to look, u]) at her window, and raised his hat
before proceeding down into the back lanes of the l)ort, to
inveigle an urcliin into the task of obtaining for him a j)ot
of ragworms for bait.

Soon after she saw her nephew go out, but he did not
raise his head. i)\\ the contrary, he bent it down, and
lieaved up his shoulders like a wet sailor, as he went oi\ to
his office.

** .'A'// paurrt' enfant f' she murmured, as she ha:f
close^l her eyes, and kissed the tips of the fingers. " JJiit
wait a while, Henri, mon infant, and all shall be well.''

There was a lapse of time devoted to thought, and tlicn
Aunt >rarguerite's eyes glistened with malice as she saw
Madelaine approach.

" Pah ! '' she ejaculated softly. ''This might be Aiiis
terdam or the Ijoomj^jes. Wretched J)utch v.'ench I How
can (leorgc tolerate her presence here? "

Then Pratlelle came back, but he did not look up this
time, mrrely went to the door and entered, his eyes looking
searchinglv about as if in search of Louise.

Lastly, a coui)le of ])articularly unseamanlike men.
dressed in shiny tarpaulin hats and pea-jackets, with
earrings and very smooth j)omatumy hair, came into siglii.
Kacli man carried a ])ack and a big stick, and as they dnw
near their eyes wandered over window and door in a parti
cularlv searchini: wav.

They did not come to the front, but in i slouchini;.
fiirtive way went jiast the front of the I;oust. ai.o round to
the back, where the next minute there v/r.-^ a low tapping
ma«lc by the knob of a stick on a door, anu : j ju afr jr a
buzzing murmur of voices arose.

THE IfACr/C XOPLESSF.

Aunt Marguerite h.id nothing whatever to do. and the
rm;ir ini Tested her to the extent of iiKii^ing her rise, g

mil

across her room,

and through a door ai the back into her
hed-ehaniher, where :\x\ oyrn hittice window had a cliair
l)L'nealli, and the said window being just over the back

trance from whence the murmur came. Aunt Marguerite
had nodiing to do ))ut go and sit down tl-.-re unseen, and
luar every word that was said.

" \\s.'' said tlie f.imiUar voire of l^rown-faccd. black-
l Li/a; " ihev're beautiful, but [ haven't uot the

hair

inoiics

" riiat there red riljl)on 'd just soot you, my lass," said
a dvL]) voic!', so fuz/y that it must have come from under
a v»oollen jackrt.

•' lust look at tliat there hankvchv, too." said another

drt-p V

oice.

Did V')U ever see a better match?

N.ver," said the other dcLp V'ac(j emphatically.
'• Ws, they're very lovely, but I ain't got the money.
1 let mother have all I had this week."

" Never mind the gashlv monev. mv lass," said the first

deeji-v
can se

oice(

man

huski

ain'tcher got nothing you

Then arose a gu^.d deal of murmuring whisper, and
Aunt MargU'Tite's lips became like a pale i)ink Hne drawn
across the lower \k\vX of her face, and both her eyes were
closely shut.

" Well, you wait," was the concluding sentence of the
»vhispcred trio, and then tlie door was heard to shut.

The click of a latch rose to where Aunt Marguerite sat,
and tlien there was a trio oncj again — a whi-,j)ered trio —
ending wiih a little rustling, and the sound of heavy steprs.

'I'hen the door clos (1. and i,i/,a, daughter of Poll Perrow,
the fish woman, who carri. d a lieavy maund by the help of
a strap across her forcliead, hurried up to her bedroom,
and threw herself upon her knees as she spread two or
liiree yards of brilliant red ribbon on the bed, and taste-
fully placed beside the ribbon an oiange silk kerchief,
whose united colours made her dark eyes sparkle with
delight.

The quick ringing of a bell put an end to the colour-
'>vurshi]>, and I,i/.a. with a h.isty ejaculation, opened her

\, thrust in iu-r n<w treasures. dropj)ed the lid. and
lucked it again !;efpre hurrying down to the dining- room,

THE HAUTE KOBLESrK,

where she found licr yo'.ing mistress, her master, and
Madclaine Van Held re.

" There was some cliangc on the chimney-piece, Liza,"
said Louise. *' Did you see it? "

" No, miss."

" It is very strange. You are quite sure you did not
take it, papa ? "

" Quite, my dear."

"That will do, Liza."

The girl went out, looking scared.

" It is very strange," said Vine.

"Yes, dear; and it is a great trouble to me. This is
the third time money has been missing lately. I don't
like to suspect i)eople, but one seems to be forced."

" But surely, Louie, dear, that, poor girl would not take
it."

" I have always tr'cd to hope not, Maddy," said Louise
sadly.

" You had better make a change."

" Send her away, father? How can T do that? How
can I recommend her for another situation ? "

" Ah ! it's a j^uzzle — it's a puzzle," said Vine irritably.
" One of the great difliculties of domestic service. I shall
soon begin to think that your uncle Luke is right after
all. He has no troubles, eh, Louise? "

She looked up in his face with a peculiar smile, but
made no reply. Her father, however, seemed to read her
look, and continued :

" Ah, well, I daresay you are right, my dear ; we can't
get away from trouble ; and if we don't have one kind we
have another. Get more than our share, though, in this
house."

Louise smiled in his face, and the comical aspect of
chagrin displayed resulted in a general laugh.

" Is one of the sea anemones dead ? "

" Yes, confound it ! and it has poisoned the water, so
that I'm afraid th'- rest will go."

" I think we can get over that trouble,'' said Louise,
laughing. " It will be an excuse for a pleasant ramble
with you."

"Yes." said Vine dryly, " but we shall not get over the
trouble of the thief quite so well. I'm afraid these Perrows
are a dishonest family. I'll speak to the girl."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

'* No, father, leave it to me."

" \'cry well, my child ; l)i!t I think you ought to speak."

'l"he okl man left the room, the bell was rung, and Liza
summoned, when a scene of tears and protestations arose,
resulting in a i»assionaie declaration that Li/.a would tell
her mother, that she would not stop in a house were she
was going to be suspected, and that she had never taken
anybody's money but her own.

"This is the third time that I have missed money, Liza,
or I would not have spoken. If you took it, confess like a
good girl, and we'll forgive you if you promise never to
lake anything of the kind again."

'* 1 can't confess, miss, and won't confess," sobbed the
girl. " Mother shall come and speak to you. I wouldn't
do such a thing."

" Where did you get the money with which you bought
the red ribbon and orange kerchief this morning, Liza ? "
said a voice at the door.

All started to see that Aunt Marguerite was there look-
ing on, and apparently the recipient of all that had been
said.

Liza stood with eyes dilated, arul jaw dropped.

" Then you've been at my box," she suddenly exclaimed.
" Ah, what a shame ! "

" At your box, you wretched creature ! " said Aunt
Marguerite contcmi)tuously. " Do you suppose I should
go into your room? "

'•You've been opening my box," said the girl again, more
angrily ; '* and it's a shame.''

" 1 saw her take them uj) to her room, Louise. My
dear, she was buying them under my window, of some
I'cdlar. You had better send her away."

Liza did not wait to be sent away, from the room, but
ran out sobl)ing, to hurry upstairs to her bed-chamber,
ojien her box, and sec if the brilliant specimens of silken
fabric were safe, and then cry ■- them till they were
blotched with her tears. _ ^

" A bad family," said Apn"^^ ^^ x -erite. "I'm quite
sure that girl stol-' my piece of f: ^- 5 lace, and gave it to
t'.Kit wretched woman your uncle Luke encourages."

" No, no, aunt, you lost that piece of lace one day when
you were out."

" Nonsense, child 1 your memory is not good. Who is
that with you? Uh, I see; Miss \'an Heldre."

THE IlAUri-: XOBI.ESSE.

Aunt Marc^iicrilc, :\{wx suddenly l)ccoming aware of tlie
])rescn<:c of MadflaiiK', iii:idc a most ceremonious curtsey,
and then sailed out of the room.

" Louise nuist he forced to give \\\> the companionship
of that wretched Dutcli girl," she said as she reached her
own dooi, at which she paused to listen to Liza sobbing.

"I wonder what Miss \'ine would have been like,"
thouglit Madrhiine, " if she had married some good sensi-
ble man, and had a large fannly to well employ her
mind?" 'Liien she a.-,keil herself what kind of man she
would have selecied as i)ossessing the necessary qua-
lificati(jns, and concluded that he should have been such
a man as l)uncan Leslie, and wondered whether he would
marry her friend.

" Why, .\Lidelair:e," said Louise, breaking her chain of
thought, " what are you tliinking about? "

"Thinking al)Out? " said the girl, starting, and colour-
ing slightly. "Oh, I v/as thinking about Mr. Leslie just
then."

CHAPTER XIL

UNCLK I.UKK's spare CASH.

*' Late again," said old Crampton, as Marry Vine entered
the office.

** How I do hate the siglit of that man's nose ! " said
the young man ; and he stared hard, as if forced by some
attraction.

'I'hc old clerk frowned, a'ul felt annoyed.

•• I beg pardon," he said.

''Granted," said Harry, coolly.

" I said I beg ])ardon, Mr. Harry Vine."

" I heard vou."

''But 1 thought v«''i"^' It 0.''

" No," grumbled' H:V»11 P, " did'nt speak."

"Then I will," said 'tld' Crampton merrily,
morning, Mr. ILirr}* Vine," and he rattled the big ruler by
his desk.

"Eh? oh, yes, I see. Didn't say it as I came in.
Good morning, Mr. l'rampt(Mi."

Good

THE HAUTE XOBI.ESSE.

came in.

" Lesson for the proud young upstart in good beha-
viour," grumbled old Cram])lon. i

" l)0thcr liim I " muttered Harry, as he took liis ]->lace
at his desk, oijcned a bij^' account l)0()k Craniptr)n jOaced
before him, with some amounts to transfer from one that
was smaller, and began writing,

But as he wn^te, the figures seemed to join hands and
dance before him; then his pen ceased to fnnn ot.liers,
and dw imaginary picture j)aintfd itscif on tlie delicately
tinted blue paper with its red lines — a pleasant laiuKcape
in fair Trance with sunny hill-sides on which ranged in
rows were carefully cultured vines. 'i"o the north and cast
were softened bosky woods, and dominating all, one of
I lose antique castellated chateaus with })e])perbox towers
and gilded vanes, such as he had seen in pictures or read
of in some books.

'• If 1 only had the money," thought Harry, as he
, entered a sum sim.ilar to that which Tradelle had named.
He knows all these things. He has good advice from
friends, and if wc won, — Hah ! "

The chateau rose before his eyes again, bathed in sun-
shine. Then he pictured the terrace overlooking the vine-
yards — a grey old stone terrace, vvith many seats and slicl-
tering trees, and along ■ that terrace walked just such a
maiden as Aunt Marf,^uerite had described.

Scratch ! Scratcli ! Scratch ! Scratch ! His \)<z\\ nnd
Cramj)tc>n's ])en ; and he had no monc}', and Pradelle's
I>roject to borrow as he iiad suggested was absurd.

Ah, if he only had eigluy-oiie ].iounds ten shillings and
sixpence ! the sum he now i)laced in neat figures in their
appropriate columns.

Old Crampton tilted back liis tall stool, swung liimself
round, and lowered himself to the ground. Then crossing'
the office, he went into Van Heldre's jjrivate room, and
there was the rattle of a key, a creaking hinge, as an iron
door was swung open ; and directly after the old man
returned.

Harry Vine could not see his hands, and ho did not

raise his eye:: to watch the old clerk ; but in the imagination

\vii;cli so readily ])ictured the chateau that was not in

^i»ain, he seemed to see as he heard every movement of

j the fat. white fmgers. when a canvas bag v/as dumped

' down on the mahogany desk, the string untied, and a little

THE HAUTE XOniESSE,

heap of coins were poured out. 'I'hen followed the
scratching of those coins upon the mahogany, as they were
counted, ranged in liitic piles, and fnuilly, after an entry
had been ciu'cked. they were rcphued in the hag, wiiieh
the old man bore back into the safe in the i)rivate room.

•' ]''ifty or a hundred ])ounds," said Harry to himself, as
a curious sensation of heat came int(j his cheeks, to bal-
ance which there seemed to be a i)e{:uliarly cold thrill
running up his spine, to the nape of his neck.

" Anybody at home ? "

•' Ves, sir ; here we are hard at work."

Marry had looked u); sharply to sec Uncle Luke stand-
ing in the opening, a grim-looking grey figure in his old
Norfolk j ir.ket and straw hat, one hand resting on his
heavy stick, the other carrying a l)attcred fish-basket.
The old man's face was in shadow, for the sunshine
streamed in behind him ; but there was i)lenty of light to
disi)lay his grim, sardonic features, as, after a short nod to
Cramjiton, he gazed from under his shaggy brows pierc-
ingly at his nephew.

'• Well, ([uill-driver," he said sneeringly ; "doing some-
thing US' fid at last?"

'* Morning, uncle," said Harry shortly ; and he muttered
to himself, ** I should like to throw the ledger at him."

*' Hope he's a good boy, hey? "

"Oh, he's getting on, ^^r. Luke Vine — slowly," said
Crampton unwillingly. " He'll do better by-and by."

A sharp remark was on Harry's lips, but he checked it
for a particular reason. Uncle Luke might have the
money he wanted.

"Time he did," said the old man. "Look liere, boy,"
he continued with galling, sneering tone in his voice.
" Go and tell ycnir master I want to see him."

Harry drew a long breath, and his teeth gritted together.

" I c.ai!ght a splendid conger this morning," continued
Uncle Luke, giving his basket a swing, "and I've brought
your master half"

" My master ! " muttered Harry.

" Like conger ]ue. boy? "

" No," said Harry, shortly.

" More nice than wise." said L^ncle Luke. " Always
were. There, be quick. I want to see your master."

" To sec my master," thought Harry, with a strange

THE HAUTE XO HI. ESSE,

feeling of exasj)cratlon in liis breast as ho looked up at
Cranipton.

Crampton was looking uj) at him with eyes which said
very clearly, " \\'eli, why don't yuu go ? "

" They'll make nie an errand boy next," saitl the young
man to himself, as after twisting his locket rcnmd and
round like a firework, he swung himself down, " and want
me to clean the knives and boots and shoes."

'' Tell him I'm in a hurry," said Unde Luke, as Harry
reached the door which led into the private house along a
l)a.ssage built and covered with glass, by one bide of what
was originally a garden.

Ah,

id Uncle Luk(

:1(

to old Ci

)ton'

?, gomg closer to old L>rami
desk, and taking down from where it rested on two brass
hooks the heavy ebony ruler. " Nice bit o' wood that."

" \'es, sir," said the old clerk, in the fidgety way of a
workman who objects to have his tools touched.

'* Pretty weighty," continued Uncle Luke, balancing it
in his hand. " Give a man a pretty good topi)er that, eh ? "

'• Vcs, Mr. Luke Vine — I should like to give him one
with it," thought (.'rami)lon.

" Do for a constable's staff, or to kiil burglars, eh? "

"Capitally, sir."

'• Hah ! Vou don't get burglars here, though, do you? "

" No, sir ; never had any yet."

" Good job, too," said Uncle Luke, putting the ruler back
in its jilacc, greatly to Grampton's relief. *' Rather an
awkward cub to lick into shajje, my nej^hew, eh ? "

" Rather, sir."

** Well, you must lick away, Grampton, not with that
ruler though," he chuckled. '"Time something was made
of him — not a bad sort of boy ; but spoiled."

*' I sliall do my best, Mr. Luke Vine," said ('rampton
dryly ; '• but I must tell you candidly, sir, he's too much
of the gentleman for us, and he feels it."

" lUh ! "

'' Not at all the sort of young man I should have select-
ed for a clerk."

" Never mind ; make the best of him."

'' Mr. Van Lleldre is coming, sir," said Harry coldly, as
he re-entered the office,

" Bah I I didn't tell you to bring him here. I want to
go in there."

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23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

V MP^

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THE HAUTE A'Oni.ESSE.

i;'

Afj Luke Vine spoke, he rose and mo\c(l to the door.

" Be a good l)oy," ht said, turning witii a peculiar smile
at his nephew. " 1 daresay you'll get on."

** Oh !" muttered Harry, as he retook his place at his
desk ; " how I should like to tell you, Uncle Luke, just
what 1 think."

The door closed behind the old man, who had nearly
reached the end of the long passage, when he met Van
Heldre.

*' Ah, Luke Vine, I was just coming."

** Go back," said the visitor, making a stab at the mer-
chant with his stick. " Brought you something. ^Vhere's
Mrs. Van Heldre ? "

" In the breakfast-room. Come along."

Van Heldre clapped the old man on the shoulder, and
led him into the room where Mrs. Van Heldre was seated
at work.

" Ah, Mr. Luke Vine," she cried, *' who'd have thought
of seeing you? "

" Not you. How are you? Where's the girl? "

"Gone up to your brother's."

" Humph ! to gad about and idle with Louie. I suppose.
Here, I've brought you some fish. Caught it at daylight
this morning. Ring for a dish."

" It's very kind and thoughtful of you, Luke Vine," said
Mrs. Van Heldre, with her pink face dimpling as she rang
the bell, and then trotted to the door which she opened,
and cried, " Bring in a large dish, Esther ! I always like
to save the servant's legs if I can,'' she continued as she
returned to her seat, while Van Heldre stood with his
hands in his pockets, waiting. He knew his visitor.

Just tKen a neat-looking maid-servant entered with a
large blue dish, and stood holding it by the door, gazing
at the quaint-looking old man, sitting with the basket be-
tween his legs, and his heavy stick resting across his knees.

"Put it down and ro."

The girl placed the dish on the table hurriedly, and left
the room.

" vSee if she has gone."

" No fear," said Van Heldre, obeying, to humour his
visitor. " I don't tliink my servants listen at doors."

" Don't trust 'em, or anybody else," said Uncle Luke
with a grim look, as he opened his basket wide. " Going
to trust her ? "

THE HAI'TE XOBI.ESSK

93
Van

"Well, I'm sure, Mr. T>iike ^'inc I " cried A[rs.
Heldre, *' I believe you learn u]^ rude things to say."

" He can't help it," said Van Ileldre laughing. *' Vcs,"
he continued, with a droll look at liis wife, which look her
frown away, ** I think we'll trust her, Luke, my lad — as far
as the fish is concerned."

"Eh! What?" said Uncle I.uke, snatching his hands
from his basket. " \Vhat do you mean ? "

'' That the dish is waiting for the bit of conger."

'* Let it wait," said the old man sna})pishly. *' Vou're
too, clever Van — too clever. Look here ; how aro you
getting on with that boy ? "

** Oh, slowly. Rome was not built in a day."

"No," cluiclded the old man, "no. Work away, and
make him a useful member of societv — like his aunt, eh
Mx->. Van."

- Useful ! " cried Mrs. Van. " Ah 1 "

Then old Luke chuckled and drew the fish from the
basket.

" Fine one, ain't it ? " he said.

" A beauty." cried Mrs. Van Heldre ecstatically.

" Pshah ! " ejaculated LTncle Luke. " >La'am you don't
care for it a bit ; but there's more than I want, and it will
help keep your servants."

" It would, Luke," said Vai; Heldre laughing as the
fish was laid in the dish, " but they will not touch it.
Well?"

"Eh? What do you mean by well?" snorted the old
man with a suspicious look.

" Out with it."

" Out with what ? "

" W^hat you have brought."

The two men gazed in each other's faces, the merchant
looking half amused, the visitor annoyed ; but his dry
countenance softened into a smile and he turned to Mrs.
Van Heldre. " Artful ! " he said drvlv. " Don't you find
him too cunning to get on with ? "

" I should think not indeed," said Mrs. Van Heldre
indignantly.

" Might have known you'd say that," sneered Uncle
Luke. " Wliat a weak, foolish woman you are I "

" Yes, I am, thank goodness ! l wish you'd have a
little more of my foolishness in you. Mr. L;ike Vine. There,
I beg your pardon. What have you got there, shrimps? "

v..

: f

iili'

THE HAUTE NO n I. ESSE.

"Yes," said Uncle Luke (grimly, a ; he l)r<night a ])ro\vn
paper parcel from the bottom of his basket, wiiere it had
lain under the wet ])iece of conger, whose stain was on
the cover. " some nice crisp fresh shrimi)s. Here, Van —
catch."

He threw the packet to his brother's old friend and
comrade, by whom it was delftly caught, while Mrs. Van
Heldre looked on in a puzzled way.

" Put 'em in your safe till I find another investment for
'em. Came down by post this morning, and I don't like
having 'em at home. Out fishing so much."

" How much is there ? " said Van Heldre, opening the
fishy brown paper, and taking therefrom sundry crisp new
Bank of England notes.

" Five hundred and fifty," said Uncle Luke. " Count

'em over."

This was already being done, Van Heldre having
moistened a finger, and begun handling the notes in regular
bank-clerk style.

"All right'; five fifty," he said.

" And he said they were shrimps," said Mrs. Van
Heldre."

" Eh ? I did? " said Uncle Luke with a grim look and a
twinkle of the eye. "Nonsense, it must have been you."

" Look here, Luke Vine," said \'an Heldre ; " is it any
use to try and teach you at your time of life? "

" Not a bit; so don't try."

" But why expose yourself to all this trouble and risk?
Why didn't your broker send you a cheque ? "

" Because I wouldn't let him."

" Why not have a banking account, and do all your
money transactions in an ordinary way ? "

" Because I like to do things in my own way. I don't
trust bankers, nor anybody else."

" Except my husband," said Mrs. Van Heldre, beaming.

" Nonsense, ma'am, I don't trust him a bit You do as
I tell you, Van. Put those notes in your safe till I ask
you for them. I had that bit of money in a company I
doubted, so I sold out. I shall put it in something el^e
soon."

" You're a queer fellow, Luke."

" Eh ? Pm not the only one of my family, am I ?
What's to become of brother George when that young

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

scapegrace has ruined him ? What's to become of Louie,
when we're all dead and buried, and out of all this worry
and care ? What's to become of my mad sister, who
squandered her money on a French scamp, and made what
she calls her heart bankrupt? "

" Nearly done questioning ? " said Van Heldrcj doubling
the notes longwise.

" No, I haven't, and don't play with that money as if it
was your wife's curl-pajjers."

Van Heldrc shrugged his shoulders, and placed the
notes in his pocket.

" And as I was saying when your husband interrupted
me so rudely, Mrs. Van Heldre, what's to become of that
boy by-and-by? Money's useful sometimes, though I
don't want it myself."

" Ah ! you needn't look at me, Mr. Luke Vine. It's of
no use for you to pretend to be a cynic with me."

'' Never pretend anything, ma'am," said Uncle Luke
risiuLf ; '* and don't be rude. I did mean to come in and

'b i

.'«- "

have some conger-jMc to-night ; now I won't.

" No, you didn't mean to do anything of the sort, Luke
Vine," said Mrs. Van Heldre tartly ; " I know you better
than that. If I've asked you to come and have a bit of
dinner with us like a Christian once, I've asked you five
hundred times, and one might just as well ask the hard
rork.

'' Just as well, ma'am ; just as well. There, I'm going.
T.ike care of that money. Van. I shall think out a decent
investment one of these days."

" When you want it there it is," said Van Heldre
quietly.

" Hope it will be. And now look here ; I want to
know a little more about the Count."

'• The Count ? " said Mrs. Van Heldre.

'' My nephew, ma'am. And I hope you feel highly
honoured at having so distinguished a personage in your
husband's service."

" What does he mean, dear ? "

"Mean, ma'arn? Why you know how his aunt has
stuffed his head full of nonsense about French estates."

"Oh! that, and the old ti'le," cried Mrs. Van Heldre.
'"There, don't say any more about it, for if there is any-
thing that worries me, it's all th.at talk about French
descents."

1. *:

( 1 1

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

** Why, hang It, ma'am, you don't think your husband is
a Frencliman, and that my sister, who has made it all the
study of her life, is wrong?"

" 1 don't know and 1 don't care whether my husband's
a Dutchman or a double Dutciiman by birth ; all 1 know
is he's a very good husband to me and a good father
to his cliild ; and I thank God, Mr. Luke Vine, every
night that things are just as they are ; so that's all I've got
to say."

" Tut— tut ! tut— tut ! This is all very dreadful, Van,"
said Uncle Luke, fastening his basket, and examining his
old straw hat to see which was the best side to wear in
front ; '' I can't stand any more of this. Here, do you want
a bit of advice ? ''

"Yes, if it's good."

*' Ah ! I was forgetting about the Count. Keep the
curb tight and keep him in use."

" I shall do both, Luke, for George's sake," said Van
Hcldre warmly.

" Good, lad I — I mean, more fool )-ou ! " said Uncle Luke,
stumping out after ignoring extended hands and giving
each a nod. '* That's all."

He left the room, closing the door after him as loudly
as he could without the sliock being considered a bang ;
and directly after the front door was served in the same
way, and they saw him pass the window.

" Odd fish, Luke," said Van Heldre.

"Odd! I sometimes think he's half mad."

" Nonsense, my dear; no more mad than Hamlet. Here
he is again."

For the old man had come bad:, and was tapping the
window-frame with his slick.

" What's the matter? " said Van Heldre, throwing open
the window, when Uncle Luke thrust in tlie basket he
carried and his stick, resting his arms on the window-sill.

" Don't keep that })icce of conger in this hot room all
the morning," he said pointing with his stick.

" Why, goodness me, Luke Vino, how can you talk like
that?" cried Mrs. Van Heidre indignantlv.

" Easy enough, ma'am. Forgot my bit of advice,"
said Uncle Luke, speaking to his old friend, but talking at
Mrs. Van Heldre.

" What is it ? "

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

'' Send mat girl of yours to a boarding-school."

" Bless my hiart, T.iikc Vino, what for ? " cried the lady

o: tlie house. " Why, she finished two years ago."
"■ To kecj) her out of the way of Oeorge Vine's stupid

boy, and because her mother's spoiling her. Morning."

CHAPTER XIII.

TO REAP THE WIND.

■ X,

Late dinner was nearly over — at least late according to
the ideas of the West Country family, who sat down now
directly Harry returned from his office work. Aunt Mar-
guerite, after a week in her bedroom, had come down that
day, the trouble with Liza exciting her ; and that maiden
had rather an unpleasant time as she waited at table, look-
ing red-eyed and tearful, for Aunt Marguerite watched her
witli painful, basilisk-like glare all through the meal, the
consequence being a series of mishaj)s and blunders, end-
ing with the spilling of a glass dish of clotted cream.

With old-fashioned politeness. Aunt Marguerite tried to
take Pradelle's attention from the accident.

'' Are you going for a walk this evening, Mr. Pradelle?"

" Yes," he said ; " I daresay we shall smoke a cigar
together after the labours of the day."

Aunt Marguerite sighed and looked pained.

" Tobacco ! Yes, Mr. Pradelle," she sighed ; and she
continued, in a low tone, " Do pray try to use your influ-
ence on poor Henri, to coax him from these bad pursuits."

Harry was talking cynically to his sister and Madelaine,
who had been pressed by Vine to slay, a message having
been sent down to the Van Lleldres to that effect.

" The old story," he said to himself; and then, as he
caught his sister's eye afier she had gazed uneasily in the
direction of her aunt ; " ves,
Surely you don't mind that."

He, too, glanced now in Aunt Marguerite's direction, as
Pradelle talked to her in a slow, impressive tone.

"Ah ! no," said Aunt Marguerite, in a playful whisper,
" nothing of the kind. A little boy and girl badinage in

she's talking about me.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

1 1

l|!l

the past. Look for yourself, Mr. Pradelle ; there is no
warmth there ! My nephew cannot marry a Dutch doll."

•' Lover's tiff, perhaps," said Pradelle.

" No, no," said Aunt Marguerite, shaking her head con-
fidently. " Harry is a little wild and changeable, but he
pays great heed to my words and advice. Still I want
your helj), Mr. Pradelle. Human nature is weak. Harry
must win back his French estates."

^' Hear that, Lcuie? " said Harry, for Aunt Marguerite
had slightly raised i.er voice.

" Yes, I heard," said Louise quietly.

"Aunt is sick of seeing her nephew engaged in a
beggarly trade."

'' For which Mr. Henry Vine seems much too good,"
said Madelaine to herself, as she darted an indignant glance
afthe young man. " Oh, Harry, what a weak, foolish boy
you are ! 1 don't love you a bit. It was all a mistake."

'* I hate business," continued Harry, as he encountered
her eyes fix: d upon him.

"Yes," said Louise coldly, as an angry feeling of anno)'-
ance shot through her on her friend's behalf. " Harry has
no higher ambition than to lead a lap-dog kind of life in
attendance upon Aunt Marguerite, and listening to her
stories of middle-aged chivalry."

** Thank goodness ! " said Harry, as they rose from the
table. " No, no, aunt, I don't want any coffee. I should
stille if I stopped here much longer."

Aunt Marguerite frowned as the young man declined
the invitation to come to her side.

** Only be called a lap-dog again. Here Vic, let's go
and have a cigar down by the sea."

" Certainly," said Pradelle, smiling at all in turn.

" Yes, ;he room is warm," said the host, who had hardly
spoken all through the dinner, being deep in thought upon
one of his last discoveries.

Harry gave his sister a contemptuous look, which she
returned witli one half sorrowful, half pitying, from which
he turned to glance at Madelaine, who was standing by
her friend.

Aunt Marguerite smiled, for there was certainly the
germ of an incurable rupture between these two, and she
turned aw: y her head to hide her triumph.

" She will nevei forgive him for speaking as he did

THE IfAVTE NOP I. ESSE.

about the beggarly trade." Then crossing with a graceful
old-world carriage, slic laid her hand on Madclaine's aim.

" Come into the drawing-room, my dear," she said,
smiling, and to Madelaine it seemed that her bright,
malicious-looking eyes were full of triumph. " Vou and I
will have a good hard figlit over genealogies, till you con-
fess that I am riglit, and that your father and you have no
claim to Huguenot descent."

** Oh, no. Miss Vine,'' said the girl, laughing, *' my father
must fight his own battle. As for jne, I give up. Perhaps
you are right, and I am only a Dutch girl after all."

" Oh, I wish we were back in London ! " cried Harry as
they strolled along towards tlie cliff walk.

" Ah, this is a dead-and-alive place, and no mistake,"
said Pradellc.

"Why don't you leave it then?" said Harry sulkily.
" You are free."

'' No, I am not. I don't like to see a friend going to the
bad ; and besides I have your aunt's commission to try
and save you from sinking down into a miserable trades-
man."

" Why don't you save me, then ? "

" That's just like you. Look here, sink all cowardice,
and go up to the old boy like a Trojan. Plenty of money,
hasn't he?"

** I suppose so. I don't know."

'• Pie's sure to have."

" But he's such an old porcupine."

" Never mind. Suppose vou do get a few pricks, what
of that ? Think of the future."

"But that venture must be all over now."

"What of that? You get the money and I can find a
dozen ways of investing it. Look here, Harry, you profess
to by my friend, and to have confidence in my judgment,
and yet you won't trust me."

" I trusted you over several things, and see how I lost."

" Come, that's unkind A man can't always win. 'J'here,
never look back, look forward. ShoW some fight, and
make one good plunge to get out of that miserable shop-
boy sort of life."

" Come along then."

" You'll go up and ask him ? "

" Yes, if you'll back me up."

loo

Tin: HAUTE NoniEssr..

"Back you up, lad? I should tliink I will. Lead on,
I'll follow thcc."

"We'll do it sensibly, tluMi. If you speak hrforo Uncle
Luke in that theatrical way wc shall come down faster
then wc go u])."

" I'll talk to the old man like a young Solomon.
And he shall say that never did youth choose more
wisely for his friend than Harry Vine, otherwise Henri,
Comte des Vignes."

"Look here," said Harry, peevishly— "' otherwise
Comte des Vignes.' Why don't you say alias at once?
Why, if the old man heard that, he'd want to know how
long it was since you were in a police-court. Here,
you'd better slay down here."

" All right, my dear fellow. Anything to help you
on."

** No ; I'd rather you came tro."

There was a pause in a niche of the rocks, and then,
after the scratching of a match, the young men went up
the cliff path, smoking furiously, as they prepared them-
selves for the attack.

CHAPTER XIV.

DIOGENES IN HIS TUB.

Uncle Luke was in very good spirits. He had rid
himself of his incubus, ^s he called the sum of money,
and though he would not own it, he always felt better
when he had had a little converse with his fellow-creatures.
His lonely life was very miserable, and the more so that
he insisted upon its being the highest form of happiness
to exist in hermit fashion, as the old saints proved.

The desolate hut in its rocky niche looked miserable
when he climbed up back on his return from Van
Heldre's, so he stopped by the granite wall and smiled.

" Finest prospect in all Cornwall," he said, half aloud ;
" freshest air. Should like lO blow up Leslie's works,
though."

The door was locked, but it yielded to the heavy key
which secured it against visitors, though they were very
rare upon that rocky shelf.

TlfF irM'TE XOniKSSE.

loi

ITf Nvas tlu- more surprised then, after his frugal mid-
(1-v meal, liv a sliai p rappiiii; at the (h)()r. and on going
lie stared angrily ;"..l the two sturdy saiittr-(h-esse'l ])ediars,
who were resting their i)aeks on tiie h)w granite wall.

'• fan we sell a hit o' l)a( co, (jr a poinid o* tea, master?"
said the man who had won over Liza to the ptircha.e of
his coloured silk.

" liang ! "

That was Unele Taike's answer as tlie man spoke to
him, and his fellow swept the inte/ior of the cottage with
one quick glance.

'• Steal as soon as sell any day," griunhled Uncle Luke.
" Toljacco and tea, indeed ! "

Outside one of the men gave his companion a wink and
a laugh, as he shouldered his ])ack, while the other
chuckled and followed his exami)le.

Meanwhile Uncle Luke had seated himself at his rough
deal table, and written a long business letter to his lawyer
in London.

This missive he read over twice, made an addition to
the paragraph dealing most particularly with the mortgage
on which he had been invited to lend, and then carefully
folded the square post ]Kiper he used in old-fashioned
letter sha])e, tucking one end into the other from objects
of economy, so as to disi)ensc with envclo[)es, but necessi-
tating all the same the use <jf sealing-wax and a light.

However, it i)leased him to think that he was saving,
and he lit a very thin candle, took the stick of red wax
from a drawer, a curious (dd-fashioned signet gold ring
hearing the family crest, from a nail where it himg over the
fireplace, and then sitting down as if to some very impor-
tant i)iece of business, he burned his wax, laid on a liberal
quantity, and tlien impressed the seal. This done, the
ring was hung once more upon its nail, and the old man
stood gazing at it and thinking. The next minute he took
down the ring, and slipped it on one of his fingers, and
worked it up and down, trying it on another finger, and
then going back to the first.

"Used to fit too tightly, " he said; ''now one's fingers
are little more than bone."

He held up the ring to the light, his white hand looking
very thin and wasted, and the worn gold glistened and the
old engraved blood-stone showed its design almost as
clearly as when it was first cut.

!' M

I03

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

** * Roy ct Foy!'" muttered tlic old man, reading the
mollo l)cneatli tlie crest. '* Jiit of vanity. Margaret asked
where it was, last time I saw her. Let's see ; I lost you
twice, once wiien I wore you as I was tishing off the pier,
and once on llie Mack rock you snj)i)ed off my bony
fiULjer, and each time the sea washed you into a crack."

Ho smiled as he ga/ed at the ring, and there was a
])leasant, handsome trace of what he had been as a young
man in his refmetl features

" Please the young dog — old family ring," he muttered.
" Might sell it and make a pound. Xo, he may have it
when I'm gone. Can't be so very long."

lie hung the ring ujjon the nail once more, and spent
the rest of the afternoon ga/ing out to sea, sometimes run-
nin.'f over the past, but more often looking out for the
glistening and flashing of die sea beneath where a flock of
gulls v/ere hovering over some shoal of fish.

it was quite evening when there was a staid, heavy step
and the click of nailed boots, as the old fishwoman came
toiling up the cliff i)ath, her basket on her back, and the
band which supi)orted it across her brow.

*' Any fish to sell, Master Vine ? " she said in a «;ing-
song tone. " I looked down the pier, but you weren't
there."

" How could I be there when I'm up here, Poll
Perrow ? "

'' Ah, to be sure ; how could you? " said the old woman,
trying to nod her head, but without performing the feat,
on account of her basket. " Got any fish to sell ? "

*' No. Yes," said the old man.

" That's right. I want some to-night. Will you go and
fetch it?"

" Yes. Stop there," said Uncle Luke sourly, as he saw a
chance of making a few pence, and wondered whether he
would get enough from his customer.

"Mind my sitting down inside. Master Luke Vine, sir?
It's hot, and I'm tired ; and it's a long way up here."

" Why do you come, then ? "

*' Wanted to say a few words to you about my gal when
we've done our bit o' trade."

" Come in and sit down, then," said the old man grufily.
And his visitor slipped the leather band from her forehead.
set her basket on the granite wall, and went into the

TlfE IIAVTE KOBI.ESSE,

103

kitchcn-likc room, wipin.L,' Iicr l)r()W as she seated herself
in llic old rush-bottomed duiir.

" I'll f^'tch it here," said I'lule ],uke,and he went round
to the l)ar.k, t(^ return directly widi the second half of tlie
conifer.

•'There," said the old man eagerly, "liow much for
that ? "

" Oh. I can't buy half a conger, Mr, Tvukc Vine, sir ; and
1 don't know as I'd have took it if it lui'l been whole."

"Then be off, and don't come bothering me," grunted
the old man snai)i)ishly.

" Hon't be cross, master: you've no call to be. You
never have no gashly troubles to worry you."

'* No, nor don't mean to have. What's the matter now ? "

" My gal ! "

'* Serve you right. No business to have married. You
never saw me make such a fool of myself"

" No, master, never ; but when you've got gals you must
du your best for 'em."

" Humph ! what's the matter? "

Poll Perrow looked slowly round the ill-furnished, untidy
])lace.

" You want a woman here, Master Luke Vine, sir," she
said at last."

" Don't talk nonsense ! "

" It aren't nonsense. Master Luke Vine, and you know
it. You want your bed made proper, and your washing
done, and your place scrubbed. Now wh • don't you let
my gal come up every morning to do these things ? "

'* I^ook here," said Uncle Luke, *' what is it you mean ? "

'* She's got into a scrape at Mr. Vine's, sir — something
about some money being missing — and I suppose she'll
have to come home, so I want to get her something to do."

'* Oh, she isn't honest enough for my brother's house,
but she's honest enough for mine."

** Oh, the gal's honest enough. It's all a mistake. But
I can't afford to keep her at home, so, seeing as we'd had
dealings together, I thought you'd oblige me and take her
here."

" Seeing that we'd had dealings togeiher ! " grumbled
Uncle Luke.

" Everything is so untidy like, sir," said the old fish-
dealer, looking round. " Down at your brother's there's

104

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

,1
III 'I

everything a gentleman could v/ish for, but as to your
place — why, tlicrc ; it's worse llian mine."

** Look here, Toll Pcrrow," snid the old eccentricity
fiercely, ' this is my place, and I do in it just as I like. I
don't want your girl to come and tidy my place, and I
don't want you to come and bother me, so be off. T'.icrc's
a letter ; take it down and post it for mc ; and there's a
penny for your trouble."

" Thank ye, master. Penny saved is a penny got ; but
Mr. Cieorge Vine would have given me sixpence — I'm not
sure he wouldn't have given mc a shilling. Miss Louise
would."

Uncle Luke was already pointing at the door, tov/ards
which the woman moved unwillingly.

" Let me come up to-morrow and ask you, Mr. Luke,
sir. Perhaps you'll l^e in a better temper then."

"Better temper ! ' he cried wrathfully. " I'm always in
a better temi)er. Because I refuse to ruin myself by hav-
ing your great, idle girl to cat mc out of house and home.
I'm not in a good tcmi)er, eh? There, be off! or I shaU
say something unjjleasant."

** I'm a-going, sir. It's all because I wouldn't buy half
a fish, as I should have had thrown on my hands, and been
obliged to eat myself. Look here, sir." cried the woman,
as she adjusted the strap of her basket, '' if I buy the bit
offish will you take the poor gal then? "

" No ! " cried Lhicle Luke, slamming the door, as the
woman stood with her basket once more upon her back.

" Humph I " exclaimed the old woman, as she thrust the
penny in her pocket, and then hesitated as to where slie
should place the letter.

While she was considering, the little window was opened
and Uncle Luke's head appeared.

" Mind you don't lose that letter."

" Never you fear about that," said the old woman; and
as if from a bright inspiration she pitched it over her head
into her basket, and then trudged away.

" She'll lose that letter as sure as fate," grunted Uncle
Luke. " Well, there's nothing in it to mind. Now I su])-
pose I can have a little peace, and — who's this ? "

He leaned a little farther out of his window, so as to
bring a curve of the cliff i)ath well into view.

" My beautiful nephew and that parasite. Going up to

THE HAUrr. XOBLESSE,

los

Leslie, I suppose — to smoke. Waste and debauchery —
smoking."

He shut the window sharply, and settled himself down
with his back to it, determined r:Ot to see his nephew pass ;
but five minutes later there was a sharp rapping at the
door.

" Uncle Luke ! Uncle ! "

The old man made no reply.

*' Here, Uncle Luke. I know you're at home ; the old
woman said so."

*• Hang that old woman ! " grumbled Uncle Luke ; and
in response to a fresh call he rose, and opened his door
with a snatch.

" Now, then, what is it ? I'm just going to bed."

*' Bed at this time of tl.e day ? " cried Harry cheerfully.
" Why you couldn't go to sleep if you did go."

" Why not ? " snapped the old man ; " you can m the
mornings — over the ledger."

Harry winced, but he turned off the malicious remark
with a laugl'.

" Uncle loves his joke, Pradellc," he said. ** Come,
uncle, I don't often visit you ; ask us in."

** No, you don't often visit me, Harry," said the old man,
looking at him searchingly ; *'and when you do come it's
lijcause you want something."

Harry winced again, for the old man's words cut deeply.

*' Oh, nonsense, uncle ! Pradelle and I were having a
stroll, and we thought we'd drop in here and smoke a
cigar with you."

*' Very kind," said the old man, looking meaningly from
one to the other. *' Missed meeting the girls, or have
they snubbed you and sent you about your business ? "

'• Have a cigar, uncle ? " said Harry, holding out his
case. " 1 tell you we came on purpos*. to see you.''

" Humph ! " said Uncle Luke, taking the handsome
morocco cigar case, and turning it over and over with
great interest. " How much did that cost ? "

'* Don't remember now ; fifteen shillings I think."

" Ah," said Uncle Luke, pressing the snap and opening
it. " One, two, three, four ; how much do these cigars
cost? "

" Only fourpence, uncle ; can't afford better ones."

" And a cigar lasts — how long ? "

• \

lo6

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

1 t :

illl

" Oh, I make one last thr^c-qiiarters of an hour, because
I smoke very slowly. Try one."

*' No, ihankye ; can't afford such luxuries, my boy,"
said the old man, shutting the case \ath a snap, and return-
ing it. *' That case and the cigars there cost nearly a
pound. Your income must be rising fast.''

Harry and Pradelle exchanged glances. The reception
did not promise well for a loan.

" Cigar does you good sometimes."

" Harry," said the old man, laughing and pointing at
case.

" What's the matter, uncle ? " said Harry eagerly ; " want
one ? "

** No, no. Why didn't you have it put on there ? "

"What?"

*• Crest and motto, and your title — Comte des Vignes.
You might lose it, and then people would know where to
take it."

" Don't chaff a fellow, uncle," said Harry, colouring.
" Here, we may come and sit down, mayn't 've ? "

'• Oh, certainly, if your friend will condescend to take a
seat in my homely place."

" Only too happy, Mr. Luke Vine."

"Are you now? Shouldn't have thought it," sneered
the old man. " No wine to offer you, sir ; no brandy and
soda ; that's the stuff young men drink now, isn't it ? "

*' Don't name it, my dear sir; don't name it," said Pra-
delle, with an attempt at heartiness that made the old man
half close his eyes. " Harry and I only came up for a
stroll. Besides we've just dined."

"Have you? That's a good job, because I've only a
bit of conger in the house, and that isn't cooked. Come
in and sit down, sir. You, Harry ; you'll have to sit down
on that old oak chest."

" Anywhere will do for me, uncle. May we smoke ? "

" Oh, yes, as fast as you like ; it's too slow a poison for
you to die up here."

" Hope so," said Harry, whose mission and the climb
had made him very warm.

" Now, then," said Uncle Luke, fixing his eyes on Pra-
delle — like gimlets, as that gentleman observed on the way
back ; " what is it ? "

"Eh? I beg pardon ; the business here is Harry's.'

THE HAUTE iVOBrESSE.

107

*' Be fair, Vic," said Harry, shortly; *' tlic business
appertains to both."

" Does it really ? " said Uncle Liil:e, with a mock dis-
play of interest.

" Yes, uncle," said the nephew, uneasily, as he sat twid-
dling the gold locket attached to his chain, and his voice
sounded husky ; *' it relatci to both."

''Really ! " said Uncle Luke, with provoking solemnity,
as he looked frc>m one to the other, " Well, I Vv-as young
myself once. Now, look here ; can I make a shrewd guess
at what you want? "

" ril be bound to say you could, sir," said Pradelle, in
despite of an ?.ngry look from Harry, who knew his uncle
better, and foresaw a trap.

" Then I'll guess," said the old man, smiling pleasantly ;
" you want some money."

" Yes, uncle, you're right," said Harry, as cautiously as
a fencer preparing for a thrust from an expert handler of
the foils.

" Hah ; I thought I was. Well, young men always were
so. Want a little money to spend, eh ? "

*' Well, uncle, I "

" Wait a minute, my boy," said the old man, seriously ;
'Met me see. I don't want to disappoint you and your
friend as you've come all this way. Your father wouldn't
let you have any, I suppose ? "

'• Haven't asked him, sir."

" That's T-ight, Harry," said the old man earnestly ;
*' don't, my ooy, don't. George always was close with his
money. Well, I'll see what I can do. How much do you
want to spend — a shilling ? "

" Hang it all, uncle ! " cried Harry angrily, and nearly
^ tearing off his locket, " don't talk to me as if I were a little
' boy. I want a hundred pounds."
; "Yes, sir, a hundred pounds," said Pradelie.
I " A hundred, eh ? A hundred pounds. Do you, now?"
said Uncle Luke, without seeming in the slightest degree
surprised.

" The fact is, uncle, my friend Pradelle here is always hear-
ing of openings for making a little money by speculations,
and we have a chance now that would make large returns
for our venture."

'' Hum I hah ! " ejaculated Uncle Luke, as he looked at

j ;

J,-

V ^»

io8

T///-: nAUTE XOBLESSE.

Pradclle in a quiet, almost appealing way. " Let me see,
Mr. Pradelle. You arc a mail of property, are you not? "

"Well, sir, hardly that," said Pradelle nonchalantly.
and he rose, placed his elbows on the rough chimney-piece,
and leaned back with his legs crossed as he looked down
at Uncle Luke. " My little bit of an estate brings me in
a very small income."

" K state here ? "

" No, no; in France, near Marseilles,"

" That's awkward ; a long way off."

" Go on," said Pradclle with his eyes, as he glanced at
Harry.

" No good. Making fun of us," said Harry's return
look ; and the old man's eyes glistened.

" Hundred ]')Ounds. Speculation, of course?"

" Hardly fair to call it speculation, it is so safe," said
Pradelle, in face of a frown from his friend.

'• Hum ! A hundred pounds — a hundred pounds," said
Uncle Luke thoughtfully. "It's a good deal of money."

"Oh, dear me, no, sir," said Pradclle. " In business
matters a mere trifle."

"Ah ! you see I'm not a business man. Why don't you
lend it to my nephew, Mr. Pradelle?"

" I — I'm — well — er — really, I — The fact is, sir, every
shilling I have is locked up."

"Then I should advise you to lose the key, Mr. Pra-
delle," chuckled the old man, "or you may be tempted to
spend it."

" You're playing with us, uncle," cried Harry. " Look
here, will you lend me a hundred ? I promise you faithfully
I'll pay it to you back."

" Oh ! of course, of course, my dear boy."

" Then you'll lend it to me.

" Lend you a hundred ? My dear boy, I haven't a
hundred pounds to lend you. And see how happy I am
without ! "

"Well, then, fifty, uncle. I'll make that do."

"Come, I like that, Harry," cried the old man, fixing
Pradelle with his eye, " 'J'here's something frank and
generous about it. It's brave, too ; isn't it, sir?"

" Yes, sir. Harry's as frank and good-hearted a lad
as ever stepped."

" Thank you, Mr. Pradelle. It's very good of you to
say so."

II •: I

THE IfAl'I'E XOIU.ESSE.

109

'' Come along, Vic," said Harry.

" Don't hurry, my dear hoy. So you have an estate in
France, have you, Mr. Pradelle ? "

" Vcs, sir."

" Humph ; so has Harry — at least he will have some
day, 1 suppose. Yes, he is gomg to get it out of the
usurper's hands — usurper is the word, isn't it, Harry? "

Harry gave a kick out with one leg.

" Yes, usurper is the word. He's going to get the estate
some day, Mr. Pradelle ; and then he is going to be a
count. Of course he will have to give uj) being Mr. Van
Hcldre's clerk then."

'• Look here, uncle," cried the young man hotly ; '^ if you
'>vill not lend me the money, you needn't insult me before
my friend."

" Insult you, my dear boy ? Not I. What a peppery
fellow you are I Now your -^.unt will tell you that this is
your fine old French aristocratic blood effervescing ; but
it can't be good for you."

" Come along, Vic," said Harry.

" Oh, of course," said Pradelle. '' I'm sorry, though.
Fifty pounds isn't much, sir; perhaps you'll think it over."

"Eh? think it over. Of coi rse I shall. Sorry I can't
oblige you, gentlemen. Good-evening."

" Grinning at us all the time — a miserable old miser ! "
said Harry, as they began to walk back. *' He'd have
done it if you hadn't made such a mess of it, Vic, with
your free-and-easy way."

'' It's precious vexatious, Harry ; but take care, oi" you'll
sling that locket out to sea," said Pradelle, after they had
been walking for about ten minutes. " You'll have to think
about my proposal. You can't go on like this."

'* No," said Harry fiercely ; '• I can't go on like this,
and I'll have the money somehow."

*' Bravo ! That's spoken like a man who means business.
Harry, if you keep to that tone, we shall make a huge
fortune apiece. How will you get the money? "

'• I'll ask Duncan Leslie for it. He can't refuse me. I
should like to see him say ' No.' He must and he shall."

" Then have a hundred, dear lad. Don't be content
with fifty."

" I will not, you may depend upon that/' cried Harry,
" and "

■■ J

\ r

r »l
41

■'' 4 1

I 11. 1

■ > if

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

III

li' I

He stopped short, and turned wliitc, then red, and took
half-a-dozen strides forward towards where Madelaine Van
Heldre was seated upon one of the stone resting-places in
a niche in the cliff — the very one where Duncan Leslie
had had his unpleasant conversation with Aunt Marguerite.

The presence of his sister's companion, in spile of their
being slightly at odds, might have been considered pleasant
to Harry Vine ; and at any other time it would have been,
but in this instance, she was bending slightly forward, and
listening to Duncan Leslie, who was standing with his
back to the young men.

Only a minute before, and Harry Vine had determined
that with the power given by Leslie's evident attachment
to his sister, he would make that gentleman open his cash-
box, or write a cheque on the Penzance bank for a hundred
pounds.

The scene before him altered Harry Vine's ideas, and
sent the blood surging up to his brain.

He stepped right up to Madelaine, giving Leslie a furious
glance as that gentleman turned, and without the slightest
preface, exclaimed —

" Look here, Madelaine, it's time you were at home.
Come along with me."

Madelaine flushed as she rose ; and her lips parted as
if to speak, but Leslie interposed.

** Excuse me, Miss Van Heldre, I do not think you need
reply to such a remark as that."

*' Who are you ! " roared Harry, bursting into a fit of
passion that was schoolboy-like in its heat and folly. " Say
another word, sir, and I'll pitch you off the clifi into the
sea."

" Here, steady, old fellow, steady ! " whispered Pradelle ;
and he laid his hand on his companion's arm.

" You mind your own business, Vic ; and as for you "

He stopped, for he could say no more. Leslie had
quite ignored his presence, turning his back and offering
his arm to Madelaine.

** Shall I walk home with you, Miss Van Heldre?" he
said.

For answer, and without so much as looking at Harry
Vine, Madelaine took the offered arm, and Pradelle tight-
ened his hold as the couple walked away.

The grasp was needless, for Harry's rage was evaporating
fast, and giving place to a desolate sensation of despair.

THE iiAvrr. xoPi.r.ssE.

Ill

'' Look here," said Pradelle ; "you've kicked that over.
Vou can't ask him now."

•• No," said Marry, gazing at the departing figures, and
trying to call up soniCihln^- about the fair daughters of
France ; " no, I can't ask him now."

•'Then look here, old fellow, I can't stand by and see
you thrown over by everybody like this. You know what
your prospects are on your own relative's showing, not
mine ; and you know what can be done if we have the
money, '^'ou are not ht for this i)lace, and 1 say you shall
get out of it. Now then, you know how it can be done.
Just a loan for a few weeks. Will you, or will you not? "

Harry turned upon him a face that was ghastly pale.
" ]iut if," he whisi)ered hoarsely, " if we should fail ? "

•'Fail? You shan't fail."

"One hundred," said Marry, hoarsely.

"Well, I suppose so. We'll make that do. Now then,
I'm not going to waste time. Is it yes or no ? "

Harry Vine felt a peculiar humming in the head, his
mouth was hot and dry, and his lips felt i)arched. He
looked Pradelle in the face, as if pleading to be let off ; but
there was only a cunning, insistent smile to meet him there,
and once more the question came in a sharp whisper,

" Yes or no ? "

'• Yes," said Harry ; and as soon as he had said that
word, it was as if a black cloud had gathered about his life.

CHAPTER XV.

MY aunt's BfeTE NOIRE.

i '

Duncan Leslie was a sturdy, manly young fellow in his
way, but he had arrived at a weak period. He thought
over his position, and what life would become had he a
wife at home he really loved ; and in spite of various
displays of reserve, and the sneers, hints, and lastly the
plain declaration that Louise was to marry some French
gentleman of good family and positir-n, Duncan found
himself declaring that his ideas were folly one hour, and
the next he was vowing .nat he would not give up, but
that he would win in spite of all the Frenchmen on the
face of the earth.

112

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

|l: it

" I must have a walk," he used to say. '* If I stop
poring over books now, I shall he qui;c thick-headed
to-morrow. A man must study his health."

So Duncan Leslie studied his healih, and started off that
evening in a different direction to the \'ines' ; and then, in
si)ite of himself, began to make a curve, one which grew
smaller and smaller as he walked thoughtfully on.

" I don't see why I should not call," he said to himself.
" 'J'here's no harm in that. Wish I had found some
curious sea anemone; I could go and ask the old man
what it was — and have her sweet clear eyes reading me
through and through. I should feel that I had lowered
myself in her sight."

'* No," he said, emphatically ; " I'll be straightforward
and manly over it if I can."

" Hang that old woman ! She doesn't like me. There's
a peculiarly malicious look in her eyes whenever we meet.
Sneering fashion, something like her old brother, only he
seems honest and she does not. I'd give something to
know whether Louise cares for that French fellow. If she
doesn't, why should she be condemned to a life of misery ?
Could I make her any happier? "

*' I'll go home now."

«' No, I— I will not ; I'll call."

These questions had been scattered over Duncan Leslie's
walk, and the making up of his mind displayed in the last
words was three-quarters of an hour after the first.

" I'm no better than a weak boy," he said, as he strode
along manfully now. " I make mountains of molehills.
What can be more natural and neighbourly than for me to
drop in, as I am going to do, for a chat with old Vine?"

There was still that peculiar feeling of consciousness,
though, to trouble him, as he knocked, and was admitted
by Liza, whose eyelids were nearly as red as the ribbon
bhe had bought.

The next minute he was in the pleasant homely drawing-
room, feeling a glow of love and pride, and ready to do
battle with any de Ligny in France for the possession of
the prize whose soft warm hand rested for a few moments
in his.

"Ah, Miss Van Heldre," he said, as he shook hands
with her in turn, and his face lit up and a feeling of satis-
faction thrilled him, for there was something in matter-of-
fact Madelaine that gave him confidence.

Aul
f;.iw 1 1

ni.;t>

as he
sii'>ul|
couldl
sensil

A, J
was h
youuij]
cornel
natui;|

"(i

Hal
ready
voice
homcl
would
Aunt

THE irAVTE XOBT.ESSE,

Aunt Marj^ucritc's eyes twinklcl with satisfaction, as she
i\v ihc cordial gt•ccliv;_,^ and hiiilt up a future of her own

m,;l. ri.ils.

.Miss Margucrii'

d tl

le young man ccremoniou

sly,

he touched the extended hand, nianii)ulated so that he
sii''Uld o!ily grasp the tijjs ; and, as he saluted, Leslie
could not help thinking philosophical'y ui)on the different
sensitioiis following the touch of a lur-.d.

A growing chill was coining over the visit, and Leslie
was hcginning to feel as awkward as a sturdy well-grown
young tree might, if suddenly t"ransplanted from a warm
corner to a situation facing an iceberg, when the old
naturalist handed a chair for his - isitor.

"(Had to see you, Leslie," he said ; " sit down."

" Vou will take some tea, Mr. Leslie? ''

Hall ! The moment before the young man had felt
readv to beat an ignominious retreat, but as soon as the
voice of Louise Vine rang in his ears with that simple
homely question, he looked up manfully, declared that he
would take some tea, and in spite of himself glanced at
Aup.t Marguerite's tightening lips, his eyes seeming to say,
'• Now, then, march out a brigade of de Lignys if you
like. "

" And sugar, Mr. Leslie ? "

" And sugar," he said, for he was ready to accept any
sweets she would give.

'I'hen he took the cup of tea, looked in the eyes that met
his very frankiy and pleasantly, and then his own rested
upon a quaintdooking cornelian locket, which was evidently
French.

There was i^othing to an ordinary looker-on in thrit piece
of jewellery, but somehow it troubled Duncan Leslie ; and
as he turned to speak to Aunt AL- rgucrite, he felt that she
had read his thoughts, and her lips had relaxed into a
smile.

"Well, George, if you do not mind Mr. Leslie hearing,
I do not," said Aunt ALarguerite. " I must reiterate that
the poor boy is growing every day more despondent and
unhappy."

" Nonsense, Margaret ! "

'' Ah, you may say nonsense, my good brother, but I
understand his nature better that you. Yes, my dear," she
continued, "such a trade as that carried on by Mr. Van
Heldre is not a suitable avocation for your son."

i I

■ i !

JI4

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

■I

I' '

" Hah ! " sighed Vine.

" Now, you are a tradesman, Mr. Leslie — " continued
Aunt Marguerite.

"Kh? I, a tradesman?" said Leslie, looking at her
wondcringly. '* Yes, of course ; I suppose so ; I trade in
copper and tin."

*' Yes, a tradesman, Mr. Leslie; hut you have your
perceptions, you h.-ve seen, and you know my nephew.
Now, answer me honestly, is Mr. Van Heldre's business
suitable to a young man with such an ancestry as Henri's?"

Louise watched him wonderingly, and her lips parted as
she hung upon his words.

"Well, really, madam," he began.

"Ah," she said, "you shrink. His French ancestors
would have scorned such a pursuit."

" Oh, no," said Leslie, " I do not shrink ; and as to
that, I think it would have been very stupid of his French
ancestors. Trading in tin is a very ancient and honourable
business. Let mc see, it was the Phoenicians, was it not,
who used to come to our ports for the metal in question.
They were not above trading in tin and Tyrian dye."

Aunt Marguerite turned up her eyes.

" And a metal is a metal. For my part, it seems quite
as good a pursuit to trade in tin as in silver or gold."

Aunt Marguerite gave the young man a pitying, con-
temptuous look, which made Louise bite her lip.

" Aunt, dear," she said hurriedly, " let me give you some
more tea."

" I was not discussing tea, my dear, but your brother's
future ; and pray, my dear child," she continued, turning
suddenly upon Madelaine with an irritating smile, " pray
do not think I am disparaging yoi'r worthy father and his
business affairs."

"Oh, no. Miss Vine."

" Miss Marguerite Vine, my child, if you will be so
good. Oh, by the way, has your father heard any news of
his ship ? "

" Not yet, Miss Marguerite," said Madelaine quietly.

" Dear me, I am very sorry. It would be so serious a
loss for him, Mr. l^eslie, if the ship did not come safe to
port."

" Yes, of course," said Leslie ; " but I should suppose,
Miss Van Heldre, that your father is well insured."

rifE irACTE KOFI. ESSE.

««s

" Yes," said Madclaine quietly.

" There, never mind about Van Hcldre's ship," said
Vine plea antly. " Don't croak like a Cassandra, Mar-
garet ; and as to Harry, a year or two in a good solid
business will not do him any harm, eh, Leslie ? "

•* I should say it would do him a world of good."

'* My nephew is not to be judged in the same light as a
young man who is to be brought up as a tradesman," said
Aunt Marguerite, with dignity.

"Only a tradesman's son, my dear."

" The descendant of a long line of ennobled gentry,
George; a fact you always will forget," said Aunt Mar-
guerite, rising and leaving the room, giving Leslie, who
opened the door, a mciiuet de la cour curtsey on the
threshold, and then rustling across the hall.

Her brother took it all as a matter of course. Once that
Marguerite had ceased speaking the matter dropped, to
make way for something far more important in the natu-
ralist's eyes — the contents of one of his glass aquaria ; but
Louise, to remove the cloud her aunt had left behind,
hastily kept the ball rolling.

'* Don't think any more about aunt's remarks, Madclaine.
Harry is a good fellow, but he would be discontented any-
where sometimes."

" I do not think he would be discontented now," she
replied, " if his aunt would leave him alone."

"It is very foolish of him to think of what she says."

"Of course it is irksome to him at first," continued
Madclaine ; " but my father is not exacting. It is the
hours at the desk that trouble your brother most."

" I wish I could see him contented," sighed Louise. " I'd
give anything to see him settle down."

A very simple wish, which went right to Duncan Leslie's
heart, and set him thinking so deeply that for the rest of his
visit he was silent, and almost constrained — a state which
Madclaine noted as she rose.

" Must you go so soon, dear 1 " said Louise consciously,
for a terrible thought crossed her mind, ar.d sent the blood
surging to her cheekr, — Madclaine was scheming to leave
her and the visitor alone.

" Yes ; they will be expecting me back," said Madclaine
smilling, as she grasped her friend's thoughts ; and then to
herself, " Oh, you stupid fellow ! "

I -1

i :

Ii6

rui: iiArrr. xoiu.esse.

For Leslie rose at once.

" And I must \w. f<<)iiii< too. Let's sec, I am walking

your way, Miss Win Heldrc. ^Lly I see you home ?"
<( J "

"Yes, do, Mr. Leslie," said Louise quietly.

" Ah ! I will," he said hastily. " I want a chat with
your father, too."

Madelaine would have avoided the escort, but she could
only have done this at the expense of making a fuss ; so
merely said " Very well ; " and went off with Louise to put
on her hat and mantle, leaving Leslie alone with his host,
who was seated by the window with a watchmaker's glass
in his eye, making use of the remaining light for the study
of some wonderful marine form.

" She would give anything to see her brother settled
down," said Leslie to himself, over and over again. *' Well
why not ? "

Five minutes later he and Madelaine were going along
the main street, with Louise watching them from behind
her father's chair, and wondering why she did not feel so
hapi)y as she did half an hour before ; and Aunt Mar-
guerite gazing from her open window.

"Ah!" said the old lady ; '' that's better. Birds of a
feather do flock together, after all."

But the flocking pair had no such thoughts as those
with which they were given credit, for directly they were
outside, Duncan Leslie set Madelaine's heart beating by
his first words.

" Look here," he said, " I want to take you into my
counsel, Miss Van Heldre, because you have so much
sound common sense."

" Is that meant for a compliment, Mr. Leslie? "

"No; I never pay 'compliments. Look here," he said
bluntly, " you take an mterest in Harry Vine."

!NLT.delaine was silent.

" That means yes," said Leslie. " Now, to be perfectly
plain with you. Miss Van Heldre, so do I ; and I want to
serve him if I can."

"\es?" said Madelaine, growing more deeply
interested.

" Yes, it is — as the sailors say. Now it's very plain
that he is not contented where he is."

" I'm afraid not."

Tiin iiAvrr. xopi.rssr.

117

''What do you say t(» this — I will not be a sliain — I
want to sorvc him for reasons whicli I dare say you guess ;
reasons of which I am not in the len'-t ashamed Now
what do yen think of thii? How wou'd he be with me? "

Madelaine Hushed wiih pleasure.

"I cannot say. Is this a sudden resolve?"

"Quite. I never thought of sucli a tiling till I went
there."

'•Then *ake time to think it over. Mr. I-eslie."

*' (lo(;d ad' ice ; but it is a thing that requires very little
thouu;ht. I cannot say what arrangements \ should make
— that would recjiire consideration, but I should riot tic
him to a desk. He would have the overdooking of a lot
of men. and I should try tf) make him as happy as I could."

" Oh, Mr. Leslie I " said Madelaine, rather excitedly.

"Pray do not think I am slighting your father, or look-
ing down upon what he has (hone, which, speaking as a
blunt man, is very self-sacrificing."

"As it would be on your jjari."

"On mine? Oh, no," said Leslie frankly. "When a
man has such an arriere petisce d^'^ I have, there is nv) self-
sacrifice. There, you see, I am i)erfectly plain."

"And I esteem you all the more for it."

The conversation extended, and in (julte a long discussion
everything was forgotten but the subject in hand, till
Leslie said : —

"There, you had l)etter sit down and rest for a few
minutes. You are quite out of breath."

Madelaine looked startled, for she had been so intent
upon their conversation that she had not heeded their
going up the cliff walk.

" Sit down," said Leslie ; and she obeyed. " Get your
breath, and we'll walk back to your house together ; but
what do you think of it all ? "

" I cannot help thinking that it would for many reasons
be better."

" So do I," said Leslie, "in spite of the risk."

"Risk?"

"Yes. Suppose I get into an imbroglio with Master
Harry? He's as pepi)ery as can be. How then?"

" You will be firm and forbearing," said Madelaine
gravely. " I have no fear."

" Well, I have. I know mys-^lf better than you know

* r

.^i:

I.il

THE HA UTE NOBLESSE.

me," said Leslie, placing a foot on the seat and resting
his arm on his knee, as he spoke thoughtfully. "I am a
very hot-headed kind of Highlander ])y descent, and there's
no knovring what might happen. Now one more question.
Shall I open fire on your lather to-night ? "

" That requires more consideration," said Madelaine.
"We will talk that over as we go back. Here is Harry,"
she said quickly, as that gentleman sudde ily burst upon
them ; and the walk back to Van Hcldrc's was accom-
plished without the discussion.

" I'm afraid I've made a very great mistake, Miss Van
Heldre," said Leslie, as they nearcd the house.

" Don't say that," she replied. '' It was most
unfortunate."

"But you will soon set that right.? " he added, after a
pause.

" I don't know," said Madelaine quietly. ** You will
come in ? "

" No ; not this evening. We had better both have a
grand think before anything is said."

" Yes," said Madelaine ; and they parted at the door —
to think.

" Why, John," said Mrs. Van Heldre, turning from the
window to gaze in her husband's face, " did you see that ? "

"Yes," said Van Heldre shortly; " quite plainly."

"But what does \l mean? "

" Human nature."

" But I thought, dear "

"So did I, and now I think quite differently."

" Well, really, I must speak to Madelaine ; it is so "

" Silence I " said Van Heldre sternly. " Madelaine is
not a child now. Wait, wife, and she will speak to us."

CHAPTER XVL

IN A WEST COAST GALE.

If, I

That project is knocked over as ifit werea card house,"
said Duncan Leslie, as he reached home, and sat thinking
of Lo'-ise and her brother.

He looked out to see that in a very short time the total

( ]'

THE I FA I'VE NOBLESSE,

119

aspect of the sea had changed. Tlie sky had become
overcast, and in tlic dim light the v/hice horses of the
Atlantic were displaying their manes.

'* Very awkward run fur the harbour to-night," he said
as he returned to his seat. " Can't be pleasant to be a
shipowner. I wonder whether Miss Marguerite Vine
would consider that a more honourable way of making
money ? "

" Yes, a tradesman, I suppose. Well, why not ? Better
than being a descendant of some feudal gentleman whose
sole idea of right was might."

*' My word ! " he exclaimed ; " what a sudden gale to have
sprung up. Heavy consumption of coal in the furnaces
to-night. How this wind will make them roar."

He faced round to the window and sat listening as the
wind shrieked, and howled, and beat at the panes, every
now and then sending the raindrops pattering almost as
loudly as hail. " Hope it w^ill not blow down my chimney
on the top yonder. Hah ! I ought to be glad that I have
no ship to trouble me on a night like this."

" No,'' he said firmly just as the wind had hurled itself
with redoubled fury against the house ; " no, she does not
give me a second tliought. But I take heart of grace, for
I can feel that she has never had that gentle little heart
troubled by such thoughts. The Frenchman has not won
her, and he never shall if I can help it. It's a fair race for
both of us, and only one can win."

'* My word ! What a night ! "

He walked to the window and looked out at the sombre
sky, and listened to the roar of the rumbling billows before
closing his casement and ringing.

" Is all fastened ? " he said to the servant. " You need
not sit up. I don't believe a dog would be out to-night,
let alone a human being."

He was wrong ; for just as he spoke a dark figure en-
cased in oilskins was sturdily making its way down the
cliff path to the town. It was hard work and in places on
the exposed cliff-side even dangerous, for the wind seemed
to pounce upon the figure ar.d try to tear it off; but after
a i'i\^ moments' pause tlic wa'k was continued, the town
reached, and the wind-swopt street traversed without a
soul being j)asscd.

The figurd passed on l'\ iliv wharves and warehouses,

I !

I20

niE i[ai:tk xoiu.fsse.

and sheltered now from llic windinade good way till, some
distance ahead, a door was opened, a Ijroad patch of light
shone out on tlic wet c(jl)ble stones, Crampton's voice said
" Good night," and the figure drew back into a deep door-
way, and waited.

The old clerk had been to the i)rincipal inn, where, once
a week, he visited his chil), and drank one glass of Hol-
lands and water, and smoked one i»ipe, talking mostly to
one friend, to whom if urged he would relate one old story.

This was his one dissitjation ; and afterwards he per-
formed one regular duty which took him close up to the
watching figure, which remained there almost breathless till
Crampton had performed his reg alar duty and gone home.

It was ten minutes or a quarter oi an hour before he
passed that watching figure, which ccemed to have sunk
av/ay in the darkness that grew more dense as the gale
increased.

Morning at last, a slowly breaking dawn, and with it the
various sea-going men slowly leaving their homes, to direct
their steps in a long procession towards one point, where
the high cliff face formed a shelter from the south-west
wind, and the great billows which rolled heavily in beneath
the leaden sky. Tliese came on with the regularity of
machinery, to charge the cliffs at which they leaped with
a hiss and a roar, and a boom like thunden followed by a
peculiar rattling, grumbling sound, as if the peal of thun-
der had been broken up into heavy pieces which v/ere
rolling over each other back toward the sea.

They were not pieces of thunder but huge boulders,
which had been rolled over and over for generations to
batter the cliffs, and then fall back down an inclined
plane.

Quite a crowd had gathered on the bror.d, glistening
patch of rugged granite, :v^ soon a? the day broke, and
this crowd was ever augmenting, till quite a phalanx of
oil-skin coats and tarpaulin hats presented its face to the
thundering sea, v/liilc men shouted to each other, and
swept the lead-coloured horizon with heavy glasses, or the
naked hand-shaded eye, in search of some vessel trying to
make the harbour, or in distress.

"She bi'es this morning,"' said one old fisherman, shak-
ing the spray from his drip})!i ?< face, after looking round
the corner of a ukiss (;f slicliering rock.

am
buo^

nighl

i<
ing

u
il
((

mall
brig

77/^ HAUTE NOBLESSE.

tan

"Ay, mate, and it aren't in me to tell you how glad I
am my boat's up tlie harbour with her nose fast to a
buoy,'' said anotlicr.

"There'll be widdcrs and or])hans in some ports 'fore
nightfall."

•'And thank the Lord that won't be in Hakemouth."

" I dunno so much about that," growled a heavy-look-
ing man, wilh a fringe of white hair round his face.
*' Every boat that sails out of this harbour arn't in port."

" That it is. Why, wliat's yer thinking about ? "

"'Bout Van licldre's brig, my lad."

" Ah," chorused half-a-dozcn voices, " we didn't think
o' she."

" Been doo days and days," said the white-fringed old
fisherman ; " and if she's out yonder, 1 say. Lord ha*
mercy on 'em all, Amen."

" Not had such a storm this time o' year since the Cape
mail were wrecked off the Long Chain."

" Ah, and that warn't so bad as this. Bound to say the
brig has put into Mount's Bay."

'' And .ot a nice place either with the wind this liow.
Well, my lads, I say, there's blessings and blessings, and
we ought all to be werry thankful as we arn't ship-owners
with wessels out yonder."

This was from the first man who had spoken ; but his
words were not received with much favour, and as in a lull
of the wind one of the men had to use a glass, he growled
out,

" Well, I dunno 'bout sending one's ship to sea in such
a storm, but I don't see as it's such a very great blessing
not to have one of your own, speshly if she happened to
be a brig like !\Last' Van Hcldre's ! "

" Hold your row," said a man beside him, as he drove
his elbow into his ribs, and gave a side jerk of his head.

The man thus adjured turned sharply, and saw close to
him a sturdv-looking fiL(ure clothed from head to foot
in black mackintosh, which glistened as it dripped with
the showery spray.

" Ugly day. my lads."

" Ay, ay, sir ; much snugger in port tlian out yonder."

Boom ! came a heavy blow from a wave, and the offmg
seemed to be obscured now by the drifting spray.

Van Heldrc focussed a heavy binocular, and gazed out
to sea long and carefully.

i I

180

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

\ t

"Any one been up to the look-out?" he said, as he
lowered his glass.

" Two on us tried it, sir," said one of the men, " but the
wind's offle up yonder, and you can't see nothing."

*' Going to try it, sir ? " said another of the group.

Van Heldre nodded ; and he was on his way to a
roughly-formed flight of granite steps, which led up to the
ruins of the old castle which had once defended the mouth
of the harbour, when another mackintosh-clothed figure
came up.

" Ah, Mr. Leslie," said Van Heldre, looking at the new-
comer searchingly.

" Good morning," was the reply, " or I should say bad
morning. There'll be some mischief after this."

Van Heldre nodded, for conversation was painful, and
passed on.

" Going up yonder? " shouted Leslie.

There was another nod, and under the circumstances,
not pausing to ask permission, Leslie followed the old
merchant, climbing the rough stone steps, and holding on
tightly by the rail.

'* Best look out, master," shouted one of the group.
" Soon as you get atop roosh acrost and kneel down behind
the old parry-putt."

It was a difficult climb and full of risk, for as they went
higher they were more exposed, till as they reached the
rough top which formed a platform, the wind seemed to
rush at ♦^hem as interlopers which it strove to sweep off
and out to sea.

Van Heldre stood, glass in hand, holding on by a block
of granite, his mackintosh tightly pressed to his figure in
front, and filling out behind till it had a balloon-like
aspect that seemed grotesque.

" I daresay I look as bad," Leslie muttered, as, taking
the rough fisherman's advice, he bent down and crept under
the shelter of the ancient parapet, a dwarf breastwork,
with traces of the old crude bastions just visible, and here,
to some extent, he was screened from the violence of the
wind, and signed to Van Heldre to join him.

Leslie placed his hands to his mouth, and shouted
through them.

" Hadn't you better come here, sir? "

For the position seemed terribly insecure. They were

\\\

Ti:^. HAUTE NOBLESSE,

i«3

on the summit of the rocky headland, with the sides going
on three sides sheer down to the shore, on two of which
sides the sea kept hurHng huge waves of water, which
seemed to make the rock quiver to its foundations. One
side of the platform was protected by the old breast-work ;
on the opposite the stones had crumbled away or fallen,
and here there was a swift slope of about thirty feet to the
cliff edge.

It was at the top of this slope that Van Heldre stood
gazing out to sea.

Leslie, as he watched him, felt a curious premonition of
danger, and gathered himself together involuntarily, ready
for a spring.

The danger he anticipated was not long in making its
demand upon him, for all at once there was a tremendous
gust, as if an atmospheric wave had risen up to spring at
the man standing on high as if daring the fury of the tem-
pest ; and in spite of Van Heldre's sturdy frame he com-
jjletely lost his balance. He staggered for a moment, and,
but for his presence of mind in throwing himself down, he
would have been swept headlong down the swift slope to
destruction.

As it was he managed to cling to the rocks, as the wind
swept furiously over, and checked his downward progress
for the moment. This would have been of little avail, for,
buffeted by the wind, he was gliding slowly down, and but
for Leslie's quickly rendered aid, it would only have been
a matter of moments before he had been hurled down
upon the rocks below.

Even as he staggered, Leslie mastered the peculiar feel-
ing of inertia which attacked him, and, creeping rapidly
over the intervening space, made a dash at the fluttering
overcoat, caught it, twisted it rapidly, and held on.

Then for a space neither moved, for it was as if the
storm was raging with redoubled fury at the chance of its
Mctim being snatched away.

The lull seemed as if it would never come ; and when it
did Leslie felt afraid to stir lest the fragile material by
which he supported his companion should give way. In a
few moments, however, he was himself, and shouting so as
to make his voice plainly heard — for, close as he was, his
words seemed to be swept away as uttered — he uttered a
few short clear orders, which were not obeyed.

'I >i

]

!■ i

124

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

"Do you hear? " he cried again, " Mr. Van Hcldre —
quick ! "

Still there was no reply by voice or action, and it
seemed as if the weight upon Lciilie's wrists was growing
heavier moment by moment. He yelled to him now, to
act ; and what seemed to be a terrible time elapsed before
Van Heldre said hoarsely —

" One moment ; better now. I felt paralysed."

There was mother terrible pause, during which the
storm beat upon them, the waves thundered at the base of
the rock, and even at that height there crime a rain of
spray which had run up the face of the rock and swept
over to where they lay.

" Now, quick ! " said Van Heldre, as he lay face down-
ward, spread-eagled, as a sailor would term it, against the
face of the sloping granite.

What followed seemed to be a struggling scramble, a
tremendous effort, and then with the wind shrieking round
them, Van Heldre reached the level, and crept slowly to
the shelter of the ])arapet.

*• Great heavens ! " panted Leslie, as he lay there
exhausted, and gazed wildly at his companion. " What
an escape ! "

There was no reply. Leslie thought that Van Heldre
had fainted, for his eyes were nearly closed, and his face
seemed to be drawn. Then he realised that his lips were
moving slowly, as if in prayer.

" Hah ! " the rescued man said at last, his words faintly
heard in the tempest's din. '' Thank God ! For their sake
— for their sake."

Then, holding out his hand, he pressed Leslie's in a firm
strong grip.

" Leslie," he said, with his lips close to his companion's
ear, "you have saved my life."

Neither si)oke much after that, but they crouched there
— in turn using the glass.

Once Van Heldre grasped his companion's arm and
pointed out to sea.

" A ship ?" cried Leslie.

" No. Come down now."

Waiting till the wind had dropped for the moment, they
reached the rough flight of steps, and on returning to the
level found that the crowd had greatly increased ; and
among them Leslie saw Harry Vine and his companion.

THE HAUTE XOBLESSE.

»2S

'• Can't see iin, sir, can you? " shouted one of the men.

Van Heldre shook his head.

" I thought you wouldn't, sir," shouted another. " Capt'n
?\Iuskerry's too good a sailor to try and make tliis port in
sueli a storm."

'^ Ay," shouted another. " She's safe behind the harbour
wall at Penzaunce."

" I pray she may be," said Van Heldre. " Come up to
my place and have some breakfast, Leslie, but not a word,
mind, about the slip. I'll tell that my way."

" Then I decline to come," said Leslie, and after a hearty
grip of the hand they parted.

'' I thought he meant Vine's girl," said Van Heldre, as
he walked along the wharves street, '* but there is no account-
ing for these things."

" I ought to explain to him how it was I came to be walk-
ing with Miss Van Heldre," said Leslie to himself. " Good
morning."

He had suddenly found himself face to face with Harry,
who walked by, arm in arm with Pradelle, frowning and
without a word, when just as they passed a corner the
wind came with a tremendous burst, and but for Leslie's
hand Harry Vine must have gone over into the harbour.

It was but the business of a moment, and Harry seemed
to shake off the hand which held him with a tremendous
grip and passed on.

" Might have said thank you," said Leslie smiling. " I
seem to be doing quite a business in saving people this
morning, only they are of the wrong sex — there is no
heroism. Hallo, Mr. Luke Vine. Come down to look at
the storm ? '

*' Couldn't I have seen it better ud at home? " shouted
the old man. " Ugh ! what a wind. Thought I was going
to be blown off the cliff. I see your chimney still stands,
worse luck. Going home ? "

" No, no. One feels so much unsettled at such a time."

*' Don't go home then ; stop with me."

Leslie looked at the quaint old man in rather an amused
way, and then stopped with him to watch the tumbling
billows off the point where his companion so often fished.

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THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

CHAPTER XVII.

THE NEWS.

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The day wore on with the storm now lulh'ng slightly, now
increasing in violence, till it seemed as if the great rolling
banks of green water must end by conquering in their
attack, and sweeping away first the rough pier, and then
the little twin towns on either side of the estuary. Nothing
was visible seawards, but in a maritime place the attention
of all is centred upon the expected, and in the full belief
that sooner or later there would be a wreck, all masculine
Hakemouth gathered in sheltered places to be on the
watch.

Van Heldre and Leslie came into contact again that after-
noon, and after a long look seaward, the merchant took the
young man's arm.

" Come on to my place," he said quietly. " You'll come
too, Lvke Vine ? "

" I ? No, no," said the old fellow, shaking his head. ** I
want to stop and watch the sea go down."

His refusal was loud and demonstrative, but somehow
there was a suggestion in it of a request to be asked again.

" Nonsense ! " said Van Heldre. " You may as well
come and take shelter for a while. You will not refuse,
Leslie ? "

'' Thanks all the same, but I hope you will excuse me
too," replied Leslie with his lips, but with an intense desire
to go, for there was a possibility of Louise being at the
house with Madelaine.

" I shall feel vexed if you refuse," said Van Heldre
quietly. " Come along, Luke, and dine with us. I'm
depressed and worried to-day ; be a bit neighbourly if you
can."

"Oh, I'll come," said the old man; *^but it serves you
right. Why can't you be content as I am, instead of ven-
turing hundreds and hundreds of pounds in ships on the
sea? Here, come along, Leslie, and let's cat and drink all
we can to help him, the extravagant spendthrift."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

127

Van ITcldre smiled, and they went along to the house
together.

"The boy in yonder at work? " said Uncle Luke, giving
a wag of his head toward the office.

"Yes," said Van Ileldrc, and ushered his visitors in, the
closed door seeming directly after to shut out the din and
confusion of the wind-swei)t street.

"There, throw your mackintoshes on that chair," said
Van Hcldre ; and hardly had Leslie "got rid of his than
Mrs. Van Heldre was in the hall, her short plump arms
were round Leslie's neck, and she kissed him heartily.

*' God bless you ! " she whispered with a sob ; and
before Leslie had well recovered from his surprise and
confusion, Madelaine was holding one of his hands in both
of hers, and looking tearfully in his face m a way which
spoke volumes.

" Ah, it's nice to be young and good-looking, and well
off," said Uncle Luke. '* Nobody gives me such a wel-
come."

" How can you say that," said Madelaine, with a laugh.
"Come, Uncle Luke, and we're very glad to see you."

As she spoke she put her hands on his shoulders, and
kissed his wrinkled cheek.

" Hah ! that's like old times, Maddy," said the grim-
looking visitor, softening a little. " Why didn't you keep
a nice plump little girl, same as you used to be?"

Madelaine gave him a smile and nod, but left the old
man with her father, and followed her mother and Leslie
into the dining room.

" So that's to be it, is it. Van, eh? "

" I don't know," was the reply. "It's all very sudden
and a surprise to me."

" Angled for it, haven't you?"

"Angled? No."

" She has then. My dear boy, son of my heart, the very
man for my darling, eh ? " chuckled Uncle Luke.

" Be quiet, you sham cynic," said Van Heldre dreamily.
" Don't banter me, Luke, I'm sorely ill at case,"

*' About money, eh ? " cried Uncle Luke eagerly.

" Money ? No ! I was thinking about those poor fellows
out at sea."

"In your brig, eh? Ah, 'tis sad. But that money —
quite safe, eh ? "

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TIfE HAUTE yoniESSE.

M;i !
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"Oh, yes, safe enough."

"Oh, (If) CA)\\\Q, papa dear," said Madelainc, reappearing
at the door. " Dinner is waitin:r."

" Yes, yes, we're coming, rny dear," said Van Heldre,
laying his hand affectionately on Uncle Luke's shoulder,
and they were soon after seated round the table, with the
elder visitor showing at times quite another side of his
character.

No allusion was made to the adventure of the morning,
but Leslie felt in the gentle tenderness displayed towards
him by mother and daughter that much had been said, and
that he had won a very warm place in their regard. In
fact, in word and look, Mrs. Van Heldre seemed to be
giving him a home in her motherly heart, which was rather
embarrassing, and would have been more so, but for ALadc-
laine's frank, pleasant way of meeting his gaze, every action
seemed to be sisterly and affectionate, but nothing more.

So Leslie read them, but so did not the elders at the
table.

By mutual consent no allusion was made to the missing
brig, and it seemed to Leslie that the thoughts of mother
and daugh^er were directed principally to one point, that
of diverting Van Heldre from his troublesome thoughts.
*' Ah, I was hungry," said Uncle Luke, when the repast
was about half over. " Very pleasant meal, only wanted
one thing to make it perfect."

" Why, my dear Luke Vine, why didn't you speak ?
What is it ? oh, pray say."

" Society," said Uncle Luke, after pausing for a moment
to turn towards the window, a gust having giving it a tre-
mendous shake. " I say if I find my place blown away,
can you find me a dry shed or a dog kennel, or some-
thing, Leslie ? "

" Don't talk such stuff, Luke Vine," cried Mrs. Van
Heldre. " Don't take any notice of him, Mr. Leslie, he's
a rich old miser and nothing else. Now Luke Vine,
what do you mean ? "

"Said what I meant, society. Why didn't you ask my
sister to dinner? She'd have set us all right, eh, Made-
line? "

"Oh, I don't know," said i\Tadclnine, smiling.

" But I do," cried her mother ; " she'd have set us all
by the ears with her nonsense. You are a strange pair."

" We are — we are. Nice sherry this, Van."

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129

" Cii.id you like it," said Van Heldrc, witli his eyes
turned towards tlie window, as if he expected news.

'• How a woman can be so full of pride and so useless
jMi/zles me."

" Mamma ! " whispered Madelaine, with an imploring
iwok.

" Let her talk, my dear," said Unele Luke," it doesn't
hurt any one. Don't talk nonsense. Van's wife. What
use could you make of her? Siie is like the thistle that
grows up behind my place, a good looking prickly plant,
with a ball of down for a head. Let her be; you always
get the worst of il. The more you excite her the more
t!iat head of hers sends out floating downy seeds to settle
here and there, and do mischief. She has spoiled my
nt'i)hcw Harry, and nearly spoiled my niece."

" Don't you believe it, Mr. Leslie," cried Madelaine,
with a long earnest look in her eyes.

" Quite true. Miss Impudence," continued L^ncle Luke.
" Always was a war between me and the useless plants."

" Well, I can't sit here silent and listen to such heresy,"
cried Mrs. Van Heldre, shaking lu.-r head. '* Surely, Luke
Vine, you don't call yourself a useful plant."

•' JJiess my soul, ma'am, then I suppose I'm a weed ? "

'' Not you," said Van Heldre, forcing a show of interest
in the conversation.

'•Yes, old fellow, I am," said Uncle Luke, holding his
sherry up to the light, and sipping it as if he found real
enjoyment therein. '• I suppose I am only a weed, not a
tliislle. like Margaret up yonder, but a tough-rooted, stringy,
matter-of-fact old nettle, who comes up quietly in his own
corner and injures no one so long as people let him alone."

" No, no, no, no ! " said Madelaine emphatically.

"Quite right. Miss Van Heldre," said Leslie.

" Hear, hear ! " cried Van Heldre.

*' Stir me up, then, and see," cried the old man grimly.
'■ More than one person has found out before now how I
can sting, and — hallo I what's wrong ? You here ? "

There had been a quick step in the long passage, and,
without ceremony, the door was thrown open, Harry V^ne
entering, to stand in the gathering gloom hatless and
excited.

He v/as about to speak. Van Heldre having sprung to
his feet, when the young man's ev(.'S alighted on Leslie and

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130

THE HAUTE XOBLESSE.

!,i

Madclainc seated side hy sido at the lal)lc, and the flash
of anger which mounted to liis brain drove everything else
away.

*' What is it ? " cried Van Heldre hoarsely. " Do you
hear? — speak ! "

*' There is a brig on the Conger Rock," said Harry
quickly, as if roused to a recolleciion of that which he had
come to say.

*' Yes, sir," cried another voice, as old Crampton sud-
denly appeared. "And the man has just run up to the
ofTice with the news, for "

" Well, man, speak out," said Van Heldre whose florid
face was mottled with patches of ghastly white.

"They think it's ours."

" I felt it coming," groaned Van Heldre, as he rushed
into the hall, Leslie following quickly.

As he hurriedly threw on his waterproof a hand caught
his, and turning, it was to see Madelaine looking up im-
ploringly in his eyes.

" My father, Mr. Leslie. Keep him out of danger,
pray ! "

"Trust me. I'll do my best," said the young man
quickly ; and then he awoke to the fact that Harry Vine
was beside him, white with anger, an anger which seemed
to make him dumb.

The next minute the whole party were struggling down
the street against the hurricane-like wind, to learn from a
dozen voices, eager to tender the bad news, that the mist
of spray had been so thick that in the early gloom of
evening the vessel had approached quite unseen till she
was close in, and directly after she had struck on the
dangerous rock, in o wild attempt to reach the harbour, a
task next to impossible in such a storm.

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131

CHAPTER XVIII.

HARRY VINE SHOWS HIS IJRKUIT Smr,.

The wreck of a ship, on the threshold of the home where
every occupant is known, is a scene of excitement beyond
the reach of pen to adetpiately describe ; and as the two
young men reached the mouth of the harbour, followinj^
closely upon Van Hildre, their own ])etty animosity was
forgotten in the face of the terrible disaster.

The night was coming fast, and a light had been hoisted
in the rigging of the vessel, now hard on the dangerous
rock — the long arc of a circle described by the dim star,
showing plainly to those on shore the precarious position
of the unfortunate crew.

The sides of the harbour were crowded, in sjnte of the
tremendous storm of wind and spray ; and, as Leslie fol-
lowed the shipowner, he noted the horror and despair in
many a spray-wet face.

As Van Heldre approached and was recognised, there
was a cheer given by those who seemed to take it for granted
that the owner would at once devise a way to save the
vessel from her perilous i)osition, and rescue the crew
whose lives were dear to many gathered in agony around,
to see, as it were, their dear ones die.

Steps had already been taken, however, and as the little
party from Van Heldre's reached the harbour, it was to see
the life-boat launched, and a crew of sturdy fellows in their
places ready to do battle with the waves.

It seemed to be a terrible task to row right out from the
comparatively calm harbour, whose long rocky j)oint acted
as a breakwater, to where the great billows came rolling in,
each looking as if it would engulf a score of such frail craft
as that which, after a little of the hesitation of i)reparation,
and amidst a tremendous burst of cheering, was rowed out
into the middle of the estuary, and then straight away for
the mouth.

But they were not all cheers which followed the boat.

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THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

Close by v/here Leslie stood, with a choking sensation of
emotion in his brca t, a woman uttered a wild shriek as
the boat went off, and )ier hands were outstretched towards
one of the (jiisicin-casecl men, who sat in his pkice tugging
stolidly at his oar.

That one cry, heard above the roaring of the wind, the
hiss of the spray, and the heavy thunder of the waves, acted
like a signal to let loose the pent-up agony of a score of
hearts; and wives, mothers, sisters, all joined in that one
wild cry, ''Come back ! "

The answer was a hoarse " Give way ! " from the cox-
swain ; and the crew turned their eyes determinedly from
the harbour wall and tugged at their oars.

The progress of tlie boat was followed as for as was pos-
sible by the crowd ; and when they could go no farther,
every sheltered spot was seized upon as a coign of vantage
from which to watch the saving of the doomed crew.

Leslie was standing close to the harbour wall, sheltering
his face with his hands as he watched the lifeboat fast
Hearing the mouth of the harbour, where the tug of war
would commence, when he felt a hand laid upon his arm.

He turned sharply, to find Madelaine at his elbow, her
hood drawn over her head and tightly secured beneath her
chin.

He hardly saw her face, though, for close beside her
stood another closely-hooded figure, whose face was stream-
ing with the spray, while strand after strand of her dark
hair had been torn from its place by the wind, and refused
to be controlled.

" Miss Van Heldr^ \ Miss Vine ! "

" Yes. Where is my father? "

" Here ; talking to this coastguardsman."

" And 1 thought we had lost him," murmured Madelaine.

" ViVX is it wise of you two ladies ? " said Leslie, as he
grasped Ivouise's hand for a moment. " The storm is too
terrible."

" We could not rest indoors," said Louise. *' My fiaiher
is down here, is he not ? "

" I have not seen him. You want some better shelter."

" No, no ; don't think of us," said Louise excitedly ;
" but if you can help in any way "

"You know I will," said Leslie earnestly.

"Here, whet are you two girls doing?" said a quick,
angry voice. " Louie, I'm sure this is no place for you.

THE IIAVTE NOBLESSE,

>33

Harry spoke to his sister, but liis eyes were fixed upon
thc^e of Leslie, wlio. liowever. declined liis challenge, as it
seemed, to quarrel, and glanced at the y;)iing man's c:m-
|)anion.

At that moment the brothers Vine came up, and there
was no farther excuse for Harry's fault-finding objections.

" Can't you young fellows do anything to help?" said
Uncle Luke.

'* I wish you would tell us what to do, Mr. Vine," said
Leslie coldly.

Just then Van Heldre turned to, and joined them.

*' He is afraid the distance is too far " he said dreamily,
as if in answer to a question.

"For the boat, Mr. Van Heldre?" cried T,ouise.

'' No, no ; for the rocket apparatus. Ah ! Vine," he
continued, as he saw his old friend, " how helpless we are
in such a storm ! "

No more was said. It was no time for words. The
members of the two families stood together in a group
watching the progress of the boat, and even Aunt ^Lirguc-
rite's cold and sluggish blood was moved enough to draw
her tu the window, through whose s])ray and salt-blurred
panes she could dimly see the tossing light of the brig.

It was indeed no time for words, and even the very
breath was held, to be allowed to escape in a low hiss of
exultation as the lifeboat was seen to rise suddenly and
swiftly up a great l)ank of water, stand out upon its summit
for a few moments, and then plunge down out of sight as
the wave came on, deluged the point, and roared and
tumbled over in the moutii of the harbour.

It was plain enough now, the lifeboat was beyond the
protection of the point ; and its progress was watched as
it rose and fell, slowly growing more distant, and at times
invisible for minutes together.

At such times the excitement seemed bevond bearing.
The boat, all felt, must have been swamped, and those on
board left tossing in the boiling sea. The catastro})]ie of
the wreck of the brig seemed to be swallowed up now in
one that was greater : and as Leslie glanced round once,
it was to see Louise and Madelaine clinging together, wild-
eyed and pale.

" There she is ! " shouted a voice ; and the lifeboat was
seen to slowly rise again, as a hoarse cheer arose — the
pent-up excitement of the moment.

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T///-: HAUTE NOBLESSE.

It seemed an interminable length of time before the life-
Saving vessel reached the brig, and what followed during the
next half-hour could only be guessed at. So dark had it
become, that now only the tossing light on board the
doomed merchantman could be seen, rising and falling
slowly with rhythmical regularity, as if those on board
were waving to those they loved a sad farewell.

Then at last a faint spark was seen for a few moments
before it disajjpcared. Again it shone for a while and
again disappeared.

*' One of the lanthorns in the lifeboat."

" Coming back," said Van Hcldrc hoarsely.

*' With tlie crew, sir? " cried I>eslie.

" Ilah ! " exclaimed Van Hcldrc slowly ; " that we must
sec."

Another long time of suspense and horror. A dozen
times over that boat's light sccni.d to have gone for ever,
but only to reappear ; and at la ., in the darkness it was
seen, after a few minutes' tremendous tossing, to become
steady.

The lifeboat was in the haibour once again, and a ringing
burst of cheers, that seemed smothered directly after by the
roar of the storm, greeted the crew as they rowed up to the
landing-place, utterly exhausted, but bringing with them
two half-dead mcnibcrs of the brig's crew.

*' All we could get to stir," said the sturdy coxswain,
" and we cuuld not get aboard."

" How many are there ? "

" Seven, sir — in main-top. Half dead."

*' You should have stayed and brought them off," cried
Leslie frantically, for he did not realise the difficulties of
the task the men had had to fulfil.

"Who goes next?" cried Van Heldre, as the half-
drowned men were borne, under the direction of the doctor,
to the nearest inn.

" No one can't go again, sir," said the old coxswain
sternly. " It arn't to be done."

" A crew must go again," cried Van Heldre. " We
cannot stand here and let them perish before our eyes.
Here, my lads ! " he roared. " Volunteers ! "

'* Mr. Leslie ! My father," whispered Madelaine ; but
the young mine-owner was already on his way to where
Van Heldre stood.

THE HAUTE X OB LESS E.

>35

" Do you hear? " roared the latter. " Do as you would
be done by. Volunteers 1 ''

Not a man stirred, the i)cril was too great.

" It's no good, master," said the old coxiwain ; " they're
gone, poor lads, by now."

" No," cried Leslie excitedly ; '• the light is there still."

'* Ay," said the coxswain, '• a lamp'll burn some time
longer than a man's life. Here, master, I'll go again, if
you can get a crew."

'• Volunteers I " shouted Van Heldre ; but there was only
a confused babble of voices, as women clung to their men,
and held back these who would have yielded.

" Are you men ! " roared Leslie excitedly : and Madc-
laine felt her arm grasped tightly.

" I say, are you men, to stand there and see those poor
fellows perish before your eyes ! "

** It's throwing lives away," cried a shrill woman's voice.

*' Ay, go yourscn," shouted a man angrily.

" I'm going,'' roared Leslie. " Only a landsman. Now
then, is there never a sailor who will come } "

There was a panting, s])asmodic cry at Madelainc's car,
one whicli she echeod, as Harry Vine stepped up to Leslie's
side.

" Here's another landsman,'' he cried excitedlv. *' Now,
PradeJle, come on ! "

Th'^ive was no response from his companion, who drew
back,

" Vo, no," panted Madelaine. '' Louy — help me — they
must not go."

lit T words were drowned in a tremendous cheer, for Van
Heldre, without a word, had stepped into the life-boat,
followed by the two young men.

Ex\mple is said to be better than precept. It was so
here, for, with a rush, twenty of the sturdy Hakemouth
fishe' s made for the boat, and the crew was not only made
up, lut a dozen men begged Van Heldre and the two
yourg men to come out and let others take their ]ilaces.

" ' v[o," said Leslie through his set teeth ; " not if I never
see fhore again, Henry Vine."

" Is that brag to Hector over me, or British pluck?"
said Harry.

*' Don't know, ray lad. Are you going ashore ? "

" Let's wait and sec," muttered Harry, as he tied on the
life preserver handed to him.

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136

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

'' Harry, my boy ! "

The young man looked uj) and saw his father on the
harbour wall.

'' Hallo ! Father ! " he said sadly.

" You are too young and weak. Let some strong man

go."

" I can pull an oar as well as most of them, father," he
shouted ; and then to himself: " And if I don't get back —
well — I suppose I'm not much good."

** Let him go," said L^ncle Luke, as he held back his
brother. " Hang the boy, he has stuff in him after all."

A busy scene of confusion for a few minutes, and then
once more a cheer arose, as the life-boat, well niaiined,
parted the waters of the harbour, and the lanthorrs for-
ward and astern shone wilh a dull glare as that first great
wave was reached, up whicli the boat glided, and then
plunged down and disa])pcared.

One long hour of intense agony, but not for those in the
boat. The energy called forth, the tremendous L'.ruggle.
the excitement to which every spirit was wrought, kept off
agony or fear. It was like being in tlie supreme mc ments
of a battle-charge, when in the wild whirl there is no room
for dread, and a man's spirit carries him through to the
end.

The agony was on shore, where women clung together
no longer weeping, but slraining their eyes seaward for
the dancing lights which dimly crei)t up each billow, and
then disappeared, as if never to appear again.

'* Madelaine ! "

" Louise ! "

All that was said as the two girls clasped each other and
watched the dim lanthorns far at sea.

" Ah ! "

Then a loud groan.

" I knowed it couldn't be long."

Then another deep murmur, 'vhose strange intensity had
made it dominate the shrieks, roars, and thunder of the
storm.

The light, which had been slowly waving up and down
in the rigging of the brig, had disappeared, and it told to
all the sad tale — that the mast had gone, and with it those
who had been clinging in the top.

I3ut the two dim lanti!orn.j in the life-boat went on and

THE HAUTE KOBLESSE,

137

on, the thunder of the surf on the wreck guiding them.
As the crew toiled away, the landsmen sufificiently accus-
tomed to the use of the oar could pretty well hold their
own, till, in utter despair and hopelessness, after hovering
hours about the place where the wreck should have been,
the lifeboat's head was laid for the liarbour-lights ; and
after a fierce battle to avoid being driven beyond, the
gallant little crew reached the shelter given by the long low
point, but several had almost to be lifted to the wharf.

A few jagged and torn timbers, and a couple of bodies
cast up among the rocks, a couple of miles to the east,
were all the traces of Van Heldre's handsome brig, which
had gone to pieces in the darkness before the life-boat, on
its second journey, was half-way there.

CHAPTER XIX,

A BAD NIGHT S WORK.

"Oh, yes, you're a very brave fellow, no doubt," said
Pradelle. '' Everybody says so. Perhaps if I could have
handled an oar as well as you did I should have come too.
But, look here, Harry Vine ; all these fine words butter no
l)arsnips. You are no better off than you were before, and
you gave me your promise."

It was quite true : fine words buttered no parsnips.
Aunt Marguerite had cnllcd him her gallant young hero ;
Louise had kissed him affectionately ; his fiither had shaken
hands very warmly ; Uncle Luke had given him a nod, and
Van Heldrc had said a few kindly words, while there was
always a smile for him among the fishermen who hung
about the harbour. But that was all ; he was still Van
Heldre's clerk, and with a dislike to his position, which
had become intensified since Madelaine had grown cold,
and her intimacy with Leslie had seemed to increase.
" Look here," said Pradelle ; " it's time I was off"
'' Why ? What for ? " said Harry, as they sat among the
rocks,
" Because I feel as if I were being made a fool."
'' Why, every one is as civil to you as can be. My
father "

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T//£ IIA UTE NOFyLESSE.

'•' Oil, yes ; tlic old man's right enough."

" My aunt."

" Yes, wish she wasn't so old, Harry, and had some
money ; I'd marry her."

" Don't be a fool."

" Not going to be ; so I tell you I'm off."

" No, no, don't go. This place will be unbearable when
you are gone."

'• Can't help it, dear boy. I must do something to
increase my income, and if you will not join in and make
a fortune, why I must go and find some one who will."

" But I dare not, Vic."

" You gave me your word — the word of a gentleman.
I ask you to borrow the money for a week or two, and
then we would replace it, and nobody be a bit the wiser,
while we shall be on the high-road to fortune and Fair
France."

" I tell you I dare not."

" Then I shall do it myself."

" No, that you shall not."

"Then you shall."

*' I daren't."

"•■ Bah ! what a milksop you are ; you have nothing to
care for here. Miss Van He]dre has pitched you over
because you are now her father's clerk."

" Tet that be, please."

'' And taken up with Mr. Bagpipes."

'• Do you want to quarrel, Pradelle ?

" Not I, dear boy ; I'm dumb."

He said no more on that subject, but he had said
enough. That was the truth then. Madelaine had given
him up on that account, and the sting rankled in Harry's
breast.

" Money goes to the bank every day, you say ? " said
Pradelle.

" Yes. Crampton takes it ! "

" But that sum of money in notes ? How much is there
of that?"

" Five hundred."

" Why don't that go to the bank ? "

^* I don't know. A deposit, I think; likely to be called
for."

"May be; but that's our game, Harry. The other

rilE UAU rt XOBLESSE.

139

could not 1)0 managed without being mi^bcd ; this, you
see, is not in use."

*' Pradelle, it's madness."

" Say Vic, dear boy."

" Well, Vic, I say it's madness."

" Nothing of the kind. It's making use of a little coin
that you can get at easily. Vv'hy, hang it, old fellow, you
talk as if I were asking you to steal the money."

" Hush ! Don't talk 'like that."

*' Well, you aggravate me so. Now, am I trying to
serve you, or am 1 not? "

'*To serve me, of course."

"Yes, and you behave like a child."

" I want to behave like an honourable man to my
father's friend."

*' Oh, if you are going to ])reach I'm off."

" I'm not going to })reach."

" Then do act like a man. Here is your opportunity.
You know what the old chap said about the tide in the
affairs of men ? "

Harry nodded.

" Well, your tide is at its height. You arc going to
seize your opportunity, and then you can do as you like.
Why you might turn the tables on Miss Madelainc."

"If you don't want to quarrel, just leave her name
alone," said Harry, with a bulldog-like growl.

" Oh, I'll never mention it again if you like. Now, then,
once for all, is it business? "

Harry was silent for a few minutes, and then replied —

" Yes."

"Your hand on it."

Harry stretched out his hand unv/illingly, and it was
taken and held.

" I shall hold you to it now, my lad. Now, then, when
is it to be ?"

" Oh, first opportunity."

" No ; it's going to be now — to-night — as soon as it's
dark."

" Nonsense, it must be some day — when Crampton is
not there."

" That means it will not be done at all, for Crampton
neaver leaves ; you told me so. Look here, Harry Vine,
if you borrow the amount then, and it's missed, of course

"i i'

140

THE HAU'J'E NOELES.^E.

i 1;

you are asked directly, and there you are. No, my lad,
you'll have to go to-night."

" But it will be like housebrcakin

&•

" Bah ! You'll go (juietly in by the back way, make your
way along the passage to Van Heldre's room, take the
keys down from the hook "

" How did you know that the keys hung there ? "

** Because, my dear little man, I have wormed it all out
of you by degrees. To continue : you will go down the
glass passage, open the office door, go to the srfe, open
that, get the two hundred "

" Two hundred ! You said fifty would do."

" Yes, but then I said a hundred, and now I think two
will be better. Easier paid back. You can work more
spiritedly with large sums tlian with small. You've got to
do this, Harry Vine, so no nonsense."

" Harry was silent.

*' When you have the notes, you will lock all up as
before, and then if they are missing before we return
them, which is not likely, who can say that you have been
there ? Bah ! don't be so squeamish. You've got to do
that to-night. You have promised, and you shall. It is
for your good, my lad."

" Yes, and yours," said Harry gloomily.

" Of course. Emancipation for us both."

Harry was silent, and soon after they rose and strolled
back to tli.e old house, v/here through the open windov;
came the strains of music, and the voices of Madelaine
and Louise harmonisei^ in a duet.

" One less at Van Heldre's, lad. The old man will be
having his evenmg pipe, and the doors open. Nothing
could be better. Half-past nine, mind, while they are at
tea. It v.'ill be quite dark then."

Harry was silent, and the two young men entered and
sat down, their coming seeming to cast a damp on the
little i)arty, for the music was put aside and work taken
up, Vine being busy with some notes of his day's observa-
tions of the actions of a newly found mollusc.

Tea was brought in at about a quarter-past nine, and
Pradelle rose and went to the window.

" What a beautiful night, Harry," he said. "Coming
for half-an liour's stroll before bed? "

" Don't you want some tea?" said Harry, loudly.

I t

THE IIAL'Tt: XOBLLSSE,

141

" Xo. Do you ? "

" Xo," said Harry shortly ; and he rose and went out,
fuiluwccl by his friend.

'' Vou mean tliis then," he said, as soon as they were
out on the cliff.

•' Xo ; but you do. There is just time for it, so now

Harry hesitated for a few minutes, and then strode oflf
down toward the town, Pradelle keeping step with him,
till they reached the street where a lane branched off,
going round by the back of Van Heldre's house, but on a
iiigher level, a Hight of steps leadir.g down into the half
garden, half yard, overlooked by the houses at the back,
wlio^e basements were level with Van Heldre's first floor.

The time selected by Pradelle for the carrying out of
liis scheme happened to be Cramptcn's club night, and,
according to his weekly custom, he had gone to the old-
fashioned inn where it was kejjt, i)assing a nuiffled-up figure
as lie went along, the said figure turning in at one of the
low entrances leading to dock premises as the old clerk
came out, so that he did not see the face.

It was a trifling matter, but it was not the first time
Crampton had seen this figure loitering about at nighty
and it som-'how impressed liim so that he did not enjoy
his one glass of spirits and water and his pipe. But the
matter seemed to have slipped his memory for the time
that he was transacting his club business, making entries
and the like. Later on it came back with renewed force.

Harry and Pradelle parted in the dark lane with very
few more words spoken, the understanding being that
they should meet at home at half-past nine.

As soon as the former was alone he walked slowly on
round the front of Van Heldre's house, and there, accord-
ing to custom, sat the merchant smoking his nightly pipe,
reeling one arm upon the table, with the shaded lamp
shining down on his bald forehead, and a thoughtful,
dreamy look in his eyes. Mrs. Van Heldre was seated
opposite working and respecting her husband's thoughtful
mood, for he was in low spirits respecting the wreck of
his ship. Insurance made up the monetary loss, but
nothing could restore the poor fellows who had gone down,

Harry stood on tlie opposite side watching thoughtfully.

" It would be very easy," he said to himself. '"' Just

\- '\.

I4a

7 HE HAUTE NOBLESHE.

as wc planned, 1 can slip round to the back, drop in the
garden, go in, take the keys, get the money, lock up again,
and go and hang up the keys. Yes ; liow easy ft)r any one
who knows, and how risky it seems for jiim to leave his
place like that. But then it is peoi)le's want of knowledge
which forms the safest lock."

" Yes," he said, after a pause, as he stood there in
profound ignorance of the fact that the muftk-d-iip figure
which had taken Crampton's attention was in a low dark
doorway, watching his every movement. " Yes, it would
be very easy ; and in spite of all your precious gloss,
Master Victor Pradelle, I should feel the next moment
that I had been a thief ; and I'll drudge as a clerk till I'm
ninety-nine before I'll do anything of the kind."

He thrust his hands into his pockets and turned off down
by the harbour side, and hardly had he reached the water
when Pradelle walked slowly up to the front of the house,
noted the positions of those within by taking his stand just
beneath the arched doorway opposite, and so close to the
watcher that they nearly touched.

The next moment Pradelle had passed on.

** I knew he hadn't the pluck," he muttered bitterly.
" A contemptible hound ! Well, he shall see." *

Without a moment's hesitation, and as if he were quite
at home about the place, Pradelle went round to the nar-
row back lane and stood by the gate leading down the
steps into the yard. As he pressed the gate it gave way,
and he could see that the docrway into the glazed passage
was open, for the light in the hall shone through.

There was no difficulty at all ; and after a moment's
hesitation he stepped lightly down, ready with an excuse
that he was seeking Harry, if he should meet any one ;
but the excuse was not needed. He walked softly and
boldly into the passage, turned to his right, and entered
the back room, which acted as Van Heldre's private office
and study. The keys lay where he knew them to be — in
a drawer, which he opened and took them out, and then
walked straight along the glazed passage to the office.
The door yielded to the key, and he entered. The inner
office was locked, but that was opened by a second key,
and the safe showed dimly l)y the reflected lights which
shone through the barred window.

" How easy these things are ! " said Pradelle to himself,

THE ir.irrr. xopr.r.ssr..

>43

IS he unlocked the safe ; *' enough to tempt a man to be a
burglar."

'I'he iron door creaked faintly as he drew it open, and
then began to feel about hastily, and with the i)ersi)iratioa
streaming from liis forencad. J looks in plenty, but no
notes.

With an exclamation of impatience, he drew out a little
match-box, struck a light, and saw that there was an iron
drawer low down. The flame went out, but he had seen
enough, and stooi)ing he dragged out the drawer, thrust
in his hand, which came in contact with a leaden paper
weight, beneath which, tied round with tape, was a bundle
of notes.

" Hah I " he muttered with a half laugh, " I can't stop
to count you. Yes, I must, or they'll miss 'em. Its
tempting though. Humph ! tied both "

T/iud !

One heavy blow on the back of Victor Pradelle's head
which sent him staggering forward against the door of the
safe ; then he felt in a confused, half-stunned way that
something had been snatched from his hand. A dead
silence followed, during which his head swam, but he had
sufficient sense left to totter across the outer office, and
along the passage to the garden yard.

How he got outside into the little lane he could not
afterwards remember, his next recollection being of sitting
down on the steps by the water-side bathing his face.

Five minutes before Harry Vine had been in that very
spot, from which he turned to go home.

" Let him say what he likes," muttered the young man,
" I must have been mad to listen to him. Why "

Harry Vine stopped short, for a thought had struck him
like a flash.

How it was — why he should have such a suspicion he
could not tell ; but a terrible thought h" J seemed to burn
into his brain. Then he felt paralysed as he shivered, and
uttering an ejaculation full of rage and anger, he started off
at a run toward Van Heldre's place.

" Nonsense ! " he said to himself, and he checked his
headlong speen. " What folly ! "

He walked on past a group of seamen, who had just
quitted a public-house, and was about to turn up the lane
which led to his home, when the thought came once more.

144

rnr. iiai'te xoiuesse.

"Curse him!" he said, half aloud, '• I'd sf)ont'r kill
him," and hurryiiif^ hack, lit' iikkK' str.iii^lit for llic lane
behind Van I Icldrt's.

The gate yielded, he stepped down (|Mi(l.!y into the yard,
walked to the oi)en door, looked lo the right toward the
hall, and then to the left toward the offiee. A dim light
shone down the ])assage, and his lieart seemed to stand
still. The office door was open, and without hesitation he
turned down the ])assage jjanting with horror, as he felt
that his suspicions were confirme<l. lie crossed the outer
room, the inner door was shut, and entering, he jniusedfor
a moment.

" Vic I " he whispered harshly.

All was still.

Trembling now with agitation, he was raj)idly crossing
to the safe when he stepped on something which gave
beneath his feet, and he nearly fell headlong.

Recovering himself, he stooi^ed down to pick up the
heavy ebony ruler used by old Cranipton, and polished by
rubs of his coat-tail till it shone.

Harry felt giddy now with excitement, but he went to
the safe door, felt that it was swung open, and groai ' g to
himself, " Too late, too late ! " he bent his head i ""elt
for the drawer.

iMiipty !

" You scoundrel ! " he groaned ; '' but he shall give up
every note, and "

Once more he felt as if paralysed, for as he turned from
the safe he knew that he was not alone in the office.

Caught in the act ! Burglary — the open safe — the notes
gone, who would believe in his innocence ?

He could think of nothing else, as he heard Van Heldre's
voice in the darkness — one fierce angry utterance — '* Who's
there ? "

" He does not know me," flashed through Harry Vine's
brain.

" You villain ! " cried Van Heldre, springing at him.

It was the instinctive act of one smitten by terror,
despair, shame, and the desire to escape — a mad act, but
])rompted l)y the terrible position. As Van Heldre s[)rang
at him and grasped at his breast, Harry Vine struck with
all his might, the heavy rule fell with a sickening crash
upon the unguarded head, he felt a sudden tug, and with
a groan his father's friend sank senseless on the floor.

'/•///; 11 M'TE XOnt.ESSE,

145

For 011c moiiunt Ilany \'inc stofxl l)tn(ling over his
VI. "im; then utlctin^' ji lioarsc si^Ii, he leaped over the
1k)(1v and lied.

c:iiAi'ri:R xx.

IN 'IIII. l'.l,\(K MIAIiOW.

Mrs. \'a\ Hi.i.drk let her work fcdl in her lap and gazed

.icr(^s.s at her hushand.

" I suppose Harry Vine will walk home with Made-
laiiie ? " she said.

"Kh? Maddy? I'd f(.rr;ottcn her," said Van Ilcldrc
lavinj? down his i)ipe. "No; I'll g(j up and fetch her
myself."

'• Do, dear, but don't stay."

" Not 1," was the reply; and going out of the dining-
room, where he always sat when he had his evening pipe,
the merchant v/ent into the study, wliere by the dim light
he saw that his v/riting-table drawer was open.

•' Mow's that? " he thought. " .)id I— No."

He ran out into the passage, saw that his officc-door was
oi)en, and entered to receive the blow which laid him
schdcIcss before the safe.

Van Hcldre did not lie there lon;;j.

Crampton came away from the old inn, .stick in hand,
conscious of having done a good evening's work over the
business of the Fishermen's JJencfit Club, the men having
paid uj) with unusual regularity ; but all the same, he did
not. feel satisfied. Those ])edlar sailor men troubled him.
They had been hanging about the town for some time, and
tliough he knew nothing against them, he had, as a respect-
able householder, a confirmed dislike to all nomadic
trading gentry. To him they were, whether Jew or Gentile,
French or German, all gipsies, and belonging to a class
who, to use his words, never took anything out of their
reach.

Pie felt sure that the man he had seen in the darkness
was one of these, and blaming himself now for not having
taken further notice of the matter, he determined to call at
his employer's on his way home to mention the fact.

"Better late than never," he said, and he stumped
steadily down the main street as a man walks who is
possessed of a firm determination to do his duty.

III

14.1

T/I£ HAUTE XOBLF.SSE,

As he went on he peered down every one of the dark,
narrow alleys which led to the water-side places, all reek-
ing of tar and old cordage, and creosoted nets, and with
more than a suspicion of the celebrated ancient and fish-
like smell so often quoted.

" If I had my way," said Crampton, " I'd have a lamp
at each end of those places. They're too dark — too
dark."

But though he scanned cacl) place carefully, he did not
see any lurking figure, and he went on till he reached his
employer's house, where, through the well-lit window, he
could see Mrs. Van Heldre looking plumj), rosy, and
smiling, as she busied herself in putting away her work.

Cramj)ton stopi)ed at the opposite side, took off his hat
and scratched his head.

" Now if I go and tell him what I think, he'll call me a
nervous old fool, and abuse me for frightening his wife."

He hesitated, and instead of going to the front door,
feeling that perhaps, after all, he had taken an exaggerated
view of things, he went on to the corner of the house and
lane, with the intention of having a look round and then
going on home.

He had just gone about half way, when there was a loud
rap given by the gate leading down into Van Heldrc's
yard. Some one had thrown it violently br.ck against the
wooden step, and that somebody had sprung oi:t and run
down the lane in the opposite direction to that by which
the old clerk had come.

" Hah ! " he ejaculated, and hurrying on he hastily
descended the steps, entered the passage, and trembling
now in every limb, made his way into the office, where,
with all the regular method of the man of business, he
quickly took a box of matches from the chimney-piece, and
turned on and lit one of the gas burners.

The soft light from the ground-glass globe showed
nothing wrong as he glanced round.

Yes ; something was missing — the heavy ebony ruler
which always reposed on the two brass hooks like a
weapon of war at ihc end of his de^5k. That was ^ijone.

Crampton's brow knitted, and his hands shook so that
he could hardly strike a second match, as he pi'shed open
the door and entered the inner office where, forcing him-
self not to look round, he lit another gas jet before taking
in the scene at a glance. .

Tin: HAUTE NOBLESSE.

There Iny Van Hcldre, bleeding profusely from a terrible
cut on the forcliead, the safe was open, and in a very few
minutes the old clerk knew that the picket of bank-notes
was gone.

"But I've got all their numbers entered," he said to
himself, as he went down on his knee by his master's side,
and now, knowing the worst, growing moment by moment
more calm and self-contained.

His first act was to take his voluminous white cravat
from his neck, and bind it tightly round Van Heldre's
temples to staunch the bleeding.

" I knew no good would come of it," he muttered. " I
felt it from the first. Are you much hurt, sir?" he said
aloud, with his lips close to the injured man's ear.

There was no reply ; just a spasm and a twitching of the
hands.

" What shall I do ? " thought Crampton. " Give the
alarm? No; only frighten those poor women into fits.
Fetch the doctor."

He hurried out by the back way as quietly as he could,
and caught the principal medical man just as he was going
up to bed for a quiet night.

" Eh ? Van Heldre ? " he said. " Bless my soul ! On
directly. Back way ? "

"Yes."

Crampton hurried out, displaying wonderful activity for
so old a man, and took the police station on his way back.

The force in Hakemouth was represented by a sergeant
and two men, the former residing at the cottage which
bore the words " Police Station " over the door.

" Where is your husband ? " said Crampton to a brisk-
looking woman.

"On his rounds, sir."

" I want him at our office. Can I find him? Can you ? "

" I know where he'll be in about ten minutes, sir," said
the woman promptly, as if she were a doctor's helpmate.

"Very well," said Crampton. "Get him and send
him on."

The divergence had taken so long that he had hardly
reached the office and poured out some water from a table
tiltcr, to bathe the injured man's face, when he heard the
doctor's step.

" Hah I " said the latter- after a brief examination, " we
riiUbt get him to bed, Mr. Crampton."

; i

ri 1

! 1

I4S

THE HAUTE XOBLESSE.

El f-

" Is he much hurt, sir ? "

"Badly. There is a fracture of the skull. It must have
been a terrible blow. Thieves, of course ? "

*' Or thief, sir," said the old clerk, with his lip quiverini,'.
*' My dear master ! what would his poor father have
said ? "

" Hush ! Be firm, man," said the doctor, who was busy
readjusting the bandage. " I )oes Mrs. Van Heldre know ? "

Crampton shook his head.

" I found him like this, sir, and came over to fetch you
at once."

"But she must be told."

"John, John dear, are you there."* I thought you had
gone on to fetch Madelaine."

Crampton rose hastily to try and bar the way ; but he
was too late. Mrs. Van Heldre was at the door, and had
caught a glimpse of the prostrate man.

" Doctor Knatchbull ! what is the matter — a fit ? "

The trouble was culminating, for another voice was heard
in the glass corridor.

" Papa ! papa ! here is Mr. Vine, He walked home with
me. I made him come in. Oh, what a shame to be at
work so late ! "

■• Keep her — keep her back," gasped Mrs. Van HeLlrc,
and then wilh a piteous sob she sank down by Van Hcldre's
side.

"John, my husband! speak to me, oh, speak," she
moaned as she raised his head to her lap.

" Ah, you want Brother Luke to you, John Van," cried
Vine, as wilh Madelaine on his arm he came to the door
of the inner room.

There was a moment's silence, and then Madelaine
uttered a wild cry, and ran to her father's side.

"Good heavens! Crampton, what is it?" cried Vine
excitedly, — "a fit? "

" No, sir, stf',- ': down by a villain — a thief — and that
thief "

CramjUon stopped short in th*^ ■ Mst of his excitement,
for there was a heavy step no \\\ he passage, and the
sergeant of police and one of his -~ a came in.

" Yes. I've had my eye on a couple of strangers lately."
he said, as he took out a book and gave a sharji 1« ik
round. " P'r'aps Mr. Crampton, sir, you'll give me the
information I want."

1 cs
Knalchi

THE HAUTE XOnLESSE.

149

" Mr. Crampton will give you no information at all,"
said the keen-looking doctor angrily. " The first thing is
to save the man's life. Here, sergeant, and you, my man,
help me to carry him up to his bed — or no — well, yes, he'll
he l)eiter in his own room. Prav, ladies, pray stand
aside."

" Yes, yes," cried Madelaine excitedly, as she rose.
'• Mother, dear, we must be calm and helpful."
" \'es ; but — but — " moaned the jjoor woman.
''Yes, dearest," cried ^Sladelaine, "afterwards. Dr.
Knatchbull wants our help."

'•(lood girl," said the doctor, nodding. "Get the
scissors, some old linen, and basin, sponge and water, in
the bedroom."

"Yes, doctor," said Madelaine, perfectly calm and self-
contained now. " Mother, dear, I want your help."

Slie knelt down and pressed her lips for a moment to
her father's cheek, and then placed her arm round her
mother, and led her away.

An hour later, when everything ])ossible had been done,
and Mrs. Van Heldre was seated by her husband's j)illow,
Yine being on the other side holding his friend's hand,
Madelaine showed the doctor into the next room.

'' Tell me," she said firmly. " I v.'ant to know the
truth."

''My dear child," said the doctor, "You know all that
J know. Some scoundrel must have been surprised by

your father, and "

" Doctor," said Madelaine quietly, and with her clear
matter-of-fact eyes gazing into his, " 1 have been praying
for strength to help my mother and my poor father in this
terrible affliction. I feel as if the strength had been given
to nie, so s])eak now as if I were a woman whom you could
trust. Tell me the whole truth."

The doctor gazed at her with a look full of admiration,
and taking her hand, he said kindly :

•' I was treating you as if you were a girl, but I will tell
you the truth. I am going to telegraph to town for Mr.
Reston ; there is a fracture and pressure on the brain."
'"And great danger, doctor? "

" Yes," he said, after a pause, " and great danger. But,
l>lease God, my child, we will save his life. He is a fine,
strong, healthy man. There ; 1 can say no more."

ISO

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

"Thank you/' said Madelaine calmly, and she quietly
left the room.

" Any one might think that she did not feel it," said the
doctor slowly ; '' but I know better than that. It's wonder-
ful what a woman will suffer without making a sign. I
cannot telegraph till eight o'clock, but 1 may as well write
my message," he muttered, as he went down-stairs.
*' Humph ! the news is spreading. Somebody come."

I I

I i i:

CHAPTER XXI.

HARRV LOOKS THK FACT IN THE FACE.

Harrv Vane checked his headlong pace as soon as he
was out of the lane, and walked swiftly along by the harbour
till he reached the sea. Here, in the shelter of a rock, he
stooped down and lit a cigar, before throwing himself on
a patch of shingle, and holding his temples with his hands,
as he tried to quell the tumult in his brain and to think
calmly.

But it was in vain. He felt half mad, and as if the best
way out of his difficulty was to go and leap into the sea.

" Curse Pradelle ! " he groaned. " I wish I had ne\'cr
seen him — coward, thief, cheat ! Oh, what am I talking
about? Why didn't I face it^ and tell Van Heldre the
honest truth ? I was innocent. No, no ; I was as bad as
Pradelle, and he shall disgorge. Every penny shall go
back. If he says no, come what may, I'll out with the
whole truth."

"I couldn't help it," he groaned after a pause. "I'd
give anything to have frankly told the truth.''

He walked quickly home, and assuming a calmness he
did not feel, entered the drawing-room, where Louise was
seated reading.

" Your company gone ? " he said roughly.

"Yes, dear. Papa has walked home with Madelaine."

Harry turned sharply round, for he mentally pictured in
one agonising thought the scene at Van Heldre's home.

" Is anything the matter ? " asked Louise.

"Matter? No. It's very dark outside, and the light
makes one's eyes ache. Seen Pradelle ? "

TIIF. ir.\rTE xVOBLESSR.

»5»

'• Xo. dear,'' said Louise gravely. " I thought he went
out witli you."

" Vcs, of course, hut he lilces to go wandering about the
town. I wanted a quiet smoke by the water-side. I'm
tired. I think I shall go to ])ed."

'• Do, dear. I'll wait till i)apa comes."

"Ciood night."

''(ii)od night, Harry dear," she said rising, and, putting
her arms around his neck, she laid her cheek to his.
'• (lood nigh!, dear. Harry darling, don't worry about the
work. Do it like a brave, true man ; it will make father
so happy."

There was a sudden catching sol) in Harry Vine's throat,
as like a flash, the memory of old happy boy and girl
days came back. He caught his sister to his breast, and
held her tightly there as he kissed her passionately again
and again.

" My darling brother ! " cried Louise as she tightened
her grasp about his neck. '• And you will try for all our
sakes."

'• Yes, yes," he said in a hoarse whisper.

" Never mind what poor aunt says. Be a man — a frank,
honourable man, Harry. It is the order of the true haute
nob/csse after all. You will try ? "

" Please Jod, yes, Lou — so hard — ah, so hard."

" That's like my dear brother once again," she cried,
fondling him. *' There, darling, I'm speaking o you like
our mother would. Let me be your mother to you as
well as sister. You will begin again ? "

" Yes, yes, yes," he whispered hoarsely ; " from this
moment, Lou, I will."

'• May I say more ? " she said gently, as her hand played
about his brow.

'• Yes, anything, Lou ; anything. I've been a. fool, but
that's all over now."

"Then about Mr. Pradelle? "

"Curse Mr. Pradelle," he cried passionately. " I wish
I had never brought him here."

" Don't curse, dear," said Louise, with a sigh of relief.
" Yes, there has been an ugly cloud over this house, but it
is lifting fast, Harry dear, and we are all going to be very
ha])py once again. Good night."

He could not speak ; something seemed to choke him ;
but he strained her to his heart, and ran out of the room.

ltM..t

V52

77//': //A LITE NOBLESSE.

''Oil I" ejaculated T.ouisc ; and throwing herself into a
chair, she Inirst into n p.ission of weeping ; hut her tears
were those of joy, and a relief to her C)Verl)urdened heart.

" Is it too late? " said Marry to himself, as a cold chilly
hand seemed to grasj) his heart. *' No \ I can keej) my
own secret, and I will turn over a new leaf now, and old
Crampton shall rule it for nic. A\'hat an idiot I have been ! "

He shuddered as he recalled the scene in Van Heldre's
office, and involuntarily held his hands close to the land-
ing-lamp.

"Poor old fellow 1 ■■ he said, as his hand involuntarily
went towards his vest ; " hut he'll soon get over that.
He couldn't have known me in the dark. I >ry locket ! "

He turned like ice as he gazed down to see that the gold
locket he wore at his watchchain had been torn off

" No, no ; 1 lost it when 1 threw myself down on the
shingle," he muttered, as he fingered the broken link.
*' I could not have lost it there."

Just then he started, for there was a faint cough on his
left.

" Then he has come back," he cried hastily ; and going
a few steps along the passage he tapped sharply, and
entered Pradelle's room.

CHAPTER XXn.

THE PUNISHMENT BEGINS.

Pradrlle was seated in a low chair with his head resting
on his hand. He looked up curiously at Harry as the
young man hastily closed and locked the door.

"You've come at last, then,'' said Pradelle sourly, as he
winced from the pain he was in.

" Yes, Pve come at last," replied Harry. " Now, Pra-
delle, no nonsense ! There has been enough of this.
Where is the money ? "

" Where's what ? "

'' The money — those notes ? "

" I don't know what you mean.

" Then I'll tell you plainly. I want five hundred pounds
in Bank of England notes, stolen by you from Mr. Van
Heldre's safe."

THE HAUTE X 01'- 1. ESSE

Pradelle sank back in his chair.

" I like that," he said, with a low, snceri ig laugh.

153

'' No nonsense. Give me those notes."

" You mean you want to give me the notes."

" I mean what I say," cried Harry, in a low, angr) voice.

" Why, you went and got them, as we agreed. '

"I did not go and get them as we agreed."

"Yes, you did, for I saw you."

" How dare you, you lying cur ! " cried Harry, seizing
him by the throat and holding iiim back against the chair.
"Give me the notes."

" Don't ! don't. You've hurt me enough once to-night.
Look ! my head's bleeding now."

Harry loosed his grasp, for the fact was patent.

"I— 1 hurt you? "

"Yes, with that ruler. What made you hit me like
that? Take me for old Van Heldre?"

Harry's jaw dropped, and he stared wildly at his com-
panion.

" I — I hit you ! " he faltered, as he struggled with h's
memory and asked himself whether he had stricken P' •.-
delle down and not the old merchant.

" Well, I've got a cut two inches long and my head all
swollen up. What made you do it.

" I — do it ! Here, what do you mean ? "

" Mean ? Why, that you were so long getting the
loan "

" Say stealing the notes. It would be more like the
truth," said Harry shortly.

'• I won't. I say you were so long getting the loan that
I came to see what you were about, and you flew at mc
and knocked me down with the big ruler. Took mc for a
watchman, I suppose."

" But when ? — where ? " cried Harry excitedly.

" Where ? By the safe ; inner office. What a fool you
were ! "

"' Impossible ! " thought Harry, as his confusion wore
off. *' Look here," he cried aloud, " this is a mean, con-
temptible lie. You have the money ; give it me, I say."

" Supposing I had it," snarled Pradelle, " what for? "

" To restore it to its owner."

"Well, seeing that I haven't got the money I say you
shall not give it back. If I had got it I'd say the same."

" You have got it. Come, no excuses."

\::\

"fWm

»54

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

" I tell you I haven't got a penny. You struck me
down after you had token it from the safe."

" It's a lie ! " cried Harry fiercely. '* I was not going to
do the accursed work, and 1 did not strike you down."

** Then look here," cried Pradelle, pointing to his in-
jured head.

" I know nothing about that. You have the money, and
I'll have it before I leave this room."

" You'll be clever then," sneered Pradelle.

" Will you give it me ? "

" No. How can 1 ? "

" Don't make me wild, Pradelle, for Pm desperate
enough without that. Give me those notes, or, by all
that's holy, Pll go straight to the police and charge you
with the theft."

" Do," said Pradelle, *' if you dare."

The man's coolness staggered Harry for the moment.

" If I'd got the money do you think I should be fool
enough to make all this fuss? What do you mean?
What game are you playing? Come, honour among--I
mean, be square with me. You've got the notes."

*' Ah ! " ejaculated Harry, with a look of disgust. *' I
tell you I have not."

'* Harry ! Harry ! "

It was his sister's voice, and he heard her knocking
sharply at his door.

" Look here, Pradelle, you've got those notes, and I
tell you once more, you have to give them up or it's a case
of police. "

He had been moving towards the door, which he un-
fastened and threw open.

*' I'm here, Louy," he said.

" Quick, dear 1 A message from papa. We are to go
on to Mr. Van Heldre's at once."

" Van Heldre's ? " faltered Harry, whose legs seemed to
give way beneath him.

*' Yes, dear ; a policeman brought the message."

" A policeman ? "

"Something is wrong. No, no, don't turn like that. It
is not father, but Mr. Van Heldre, so the man said. I
think it is a fall."

Harry Vine's breath came thick and short. What should
he do ? Fly at once ? No ; that meant being taken and
brought ignominiously back.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

»S5

"Don't hesitate, dear," said Louise; "Pray come
quickly."

•• Yes," said Hariy huskily. "Of course, I'll come on.
Will you — you go first ? "

'' Harry, what are you thinking, dear ? Why do you
look so shocked? Indeed I am not deceiving you."

" Deceiving me? "

'• No, dear ; I am sure it is not papa who is hurt. There
come along, and see — for Madclainc's sake."

She said these last words very softly, almost in a
whisper ; but the only effect they had upon him was to
make him shudder.

What should he do — face the danger or go? He must
face it ; he knew he must. It was his only hope, and
already his sister was hurrying him to the door — his sister,
perhaps unconsciously to hand him over to the police.

" No," he said to himself, with an attempt to be firm,
"he could not have seen me ; but was it after all Pradelle
I struck down ? "

A chill shot through him.

The locket torn from his watch-chain ?

"Why, Harry dear, you seem quite upset."

" Upset — I — yes, it is so sudden. I am a bit — there,
I'm all right now."

" Poor Madelaine ! she must be in sad trouble."

Greater than the speaker realised.

She was in the dining-room with the elder Vine, and
hung for a few moments on Louise's neck to sob forth her
troubles when she entered. Then, without a word or look
at Harry, she hurried upstairs.

" Why did you not speak to her, Harry ? " whispered
Louise.

He made no reply, but sat listening to his father, his
eyes dilated and throat dry.

" And — and do they suspect any one ? " whispered the
young man in a voice he did not know for his own.

" No ; the police have been away since, and they think
they have a clue — two pedlars who have been about the
place lately."

" And Mr. Van Heldre — is — is he badly hurt ? "

''Very badly. It is doubtful whether he can recover."

The young man's breath came and went in a strange
labouring way as he sat rigidly upon his seat, while his

156

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

father went on telling him fact after fict that the son knew
only too well.

" Poor Van Hcldrc ! First the sliip, tlien this tcrril)!
calamity. Cram})ton tells me tiuit there was a sum u\
money deposited in the safe — five hundred pounds in notes,
and all gone — every penny — all gone. Poor old Cramplon 1
he almost worshipped Van Ileldrc, He is nearly wild
with grief. One minute he scowled at me savagely ; tlic
next minute he was apologetic. It's a terrible busincs-.
children. I thought you had better both come on, for, uf
course, I could not leave now."

Just then Mrs. Van Ileldrc came down, looking red-ey 1
and pale, to take Louise to her breast.

" Thank you, my dear, thnnk you," she sobbed ; '' it w ;.s
like you to come. And you too, Harry \'ine." Slie t(Jok aiid
pressed the young man's hand which was dank and cdM,
Then, in a (juick access of gratitude, she laid her hand;
upon his shoulders, and kissed him.

" Thank you, my dear'" she said in a voice broken witli
sobs. " You seem always to have been like Maddy's
brother. I might have known that you would come."

If ever man suffered agony, that man was Harry Vine
as he listened to the poor simple-hearted woman's thanks.
His punishment had commenced, and every time the door
oi)ened he gave a guilty start, and turned white as ash.

" Don't take it like that, Harry," said Louise tenderly.
" There is always hope, dear."

She looked lovingly in his eyes, and pressed his hand.
as their father went on talking in a low voice, and givin:;
utterance to his thoughts.

" The scoundrels, as far as I can make out, Harry, mv
boy, seem to have got in by the back. The door was
unfastened, and they must have known a good deal abtui:
the place — by watching I supi)Osc, for they knew where to
find the keys, and how to open the safe."

Harry's breath came in a spasmodic way, as he sat there
chained, as it were, to his place.

" Five hundred pounds. A very heavy sum. I must
not blame him, poor fellow, but I should have thought it a
mistake to have so large a sum in the house."

At last the doctor descended looking very grave.

" Ah, Knatclibuil," said Vine in an excited whispei as
he rose and caught the doctor's hand ; ''how is he?"

7//A IIAVTE .\Olil i:SSF..

»57

The doctor sliook his head.

" Has lie recovered his senses? "

" No."

" Nor said a word about who his assailants were? "

'' No, sir, nor is lie likely lo for S(jnie lime to come."

Harry Vine sat with his eyes closed, not daring to look ;
and as the dc)clor's words came a terrible weight of
dread seemed to be lifted from his f)rain.

" I may go uj) now, may 1 not ? "

" No, sir, certainly not," said the doctor.

" But we are such old friends ; we were boys together,
Knatchbull."

*' If you were twin-brothers, sir, I should say the same.
Why, do you know, sir, I've forbidden Mrs. \'an Heldre
to go into the room. .She coukl not control her feelings,
and absolute silence is indispensable.''

" Then he is alone ? "

" No, no ; his daughter is with him. By George I Mr.
Vine, if I had been a married man instead of a surly old
soured bachelor, I should be so proud and jealous of such
a girl as Miss Van Heldre that I should have been ready
to poison the first young fellow who dared to think about
her."

" We arc all very proud of Madelaine," said Vine slowly
" I love her as if she were my own child."

" Humph ! your sister is not," said the doctor dryly.

" No, my sister is not," said the old man slowly.

"Then, now, Mr. Vine, if you please, 1 am going to ask
you people to go."

'* Go ? " said Vine, in angry remonstrance.

" Yes ; you can do nothing. No change is likely to
take place, perhaps for days, and with Miss Van Heldre
for nurse and Crampton to act as my helj) if necessary,
there will be plenty of assistance here. What 1 want
most is quiet."

" Harry, take Louise home," said the old man quickly.

" And you will go with them, sir ? "

" No," said Vine quietly. " If I lay in my room
stricken down, John Van Heldre would not leave me,
Knatchbull, and I am not going to leave him. Good-night,
my children. Go at once."

" But, Madelaine, father."

'' I shall tell her when slic comes down that you were

ri'

tsi

THE HAUTE XOBLESSE.

driven away, but 1 shall send for you to relieve her as
soon as I may."

Louise stifled a sob, and the old doctor took and patted
her hand.

" You shall be sent for, my dear, as soon as you can be
of use. You are hel]>ing me in goihg. 'I'here, good-
night."

A minute later, hanging heavily on her brother's arm,
Louise Vine was walking slowly homeward through the
silent night. Her heart was too full for words, and Harry
uttered a low hoarse sigh from time to time, his lips never
once j)ariing to speak till they reached llie house.

To the surprise of both, on entering they were con-
fronted by Aunt Marguerite.

"What does all this mean?" she said angrily. "Why
did every one go out without telling me a word ? "

Louise gently explained to her what had befallen her
father's friend.

" Oh," said Aunt Marguerite, with a slight shrug of the
shoulders. " Well, it might have been worse. There, I
am very tired. 'lake me up, child, to bed."

" Good night, Harry ; you will go and lie down," whis-
pered Louise. " Good night, dear."

She clung to him as if tlie trouble had drawn them
closer, and then went into the hall to light a candle.

"Good nigiit, Henri," '=?.id Aunt Margaret, holding her
cheek Tor ihe young laai.'s mechanical kiss. "This is
very sad, of "course, but it seonir, to me like emancipaiiun
for you. If it is, I shall not look uj)on it as a calamity,
but as a blessing for us all. Good night."

The door closed upon her, and Harry Vine sat alone in
the dining-room with his hands clasped before him, gazing
straight away into his future, and trying to see the road.

" If I had but thrown niyself upon his mercy," he
groaned ; but he knew that it was impossible all through
his regret.

What to do now? Where to go ? Money? Yes; he
had a little, thanks to his regular work as Va.i Heldrc's
clerk — his money that he had received, and he was about
to use it to escape — where ?

"God help mc ! " groaned the unhappy man at last;
"what shall I do?"

He started up in horror for the door handle turned.

TITE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

»59

Had they found out so soon ? ^Vas he to be arrested
now ?

" Harry — Harry 1 "

A quick husky whisper, but he could not speak.

' Harry, wiiy don't you answer ? Wliat are you staring
at?"

'* What do you want ? "

" Look licrc, old fellow ; I've been waiting for you to
come up — all these hours. What have you found out?
Van Heldre was robbed to-night of five hundred pounds
in notes, and you have that money."

" 1 haven't, 1 tell you again, not a shilling of it. Look
here, what about the police? Have they juit it in their
liand^

■i "

"The police are trying to trace the money and the man
vho struck Van Heldre down. Where is that money?
U must be restored."

" Then you must restore it, for I swear I haven't a
single note. Hang it, man, have I ever played you false? "

Harry was silent. His old companion's persistence
staggered him.

" I tell you once more, I went to the office to see if you
^ud got the loan, and was knocked down. Curse it all !
^s this true or is it not ? "

He placed his head close to the light, and Harry shud-
dered.

'' Don't believe me unless you like. I wish I had never
tome near the place."

" I wish so too," said Harry, coldly.

"Tiiere, don't talk like that, man. It has turned out a
failure, unless you have got the coin — have you ? "

'' Have I ? " said Harry with utter loathing in his voice,
" No ! "

" You can believe mc or not, as you like, but I always
was your friend, and always will be, come what may.
Now, look here ; we are safe to get the credit of this. If
you didn't fell me, some one else did. Van Heldre, I
i'Dppose ; and now some one must have knocked him
ilown. Of course you'll say it wasn't you."

*' No," said Harry coldly. *• I shall not say it. I was
by the safe, and he caught hold of me. In my horror I
Hit at him. I wish he had struck me dead instead."
, " Don't talk like a fool. Now look here ; the game's

i6o

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

\\\

up and the world's wide. We can start at once, and get
to St. Dree's station in time to catch the up train ; let's
go, and str t afresh somewhere. You and I are safe to
get on. Co.Tie."

Harry made no reply.

" I've packed uj) my bag, and I'm ready. Get a few
things together, and let's go at once. "

"Go— with you?"

"Yes. Look sharj). F^very minute now is worth an
hour."

Go with Pradelle ' the mnri who had been his evil genius
ever since they hafl first met. A feeling of revulsion, such
as he had never felt before, came over Marry Vine, and
with a voice full of repressed rage he cried : —

" I'd sooner give myself up to the ])olice."

" Don't be a fool. I tell you to come at once. It's
now half-past two. Plenty of lime."

'* Then in heaven's name go ! " said Harry ; " and never
let me see your face again."

"You'll talk differently to-morrow. Will you; once
more ? "

" No."

" Then I'm off. What do you mean to do ? "

"Wait."

"Wait?"

"Yes. I shall not try to escape. If they suspect me,
let them take me. I shall fjce it all."

" You'll soon alter your tune. Look here ; I've been
true to you ; now you be true to me. Don't set the police
on to me. No, you will not do that. You'll come after
me; and mind this, you will al.vays hear of me at the old
lodgings. Great Ormond Street."

Harry stood gazing straight at him, believing, in spite of
his doubts, that Pradelle had not taken the money.

The idea was strengthened.

" Look here ; I've only three hnlf-crowns. I can't go
with that. How much have you ? "

" Thirtv shillings."

" Then come, and we'll share."

"No."

'*Lend me half then. I'll manage witii that."

For answer Harry thrust his hand into his pocket and
took out all he had.

THE ','4UTE NOBLESSE.

i6i

" What, all ? " said Pradelle, as he took the mc aey.

There was no reply.

" Once more. Will you come ? "

Silence !

"Then I'm off."

Harry Vine stood gazing at vacancy; and once more
tried to see his own path in the future, but all was dark.

One thing he did know, and that was that his path did
not run side by side with Victor Pradelle's. His sister's
words still rang in his ears ; her kisses seemed yet to be
clinging to his lips.

" No," he said at last, moodily ; " 1 11 face what there is
to come alone. No," he groaned, " I could not face it, I
dare not."

He started guiltily and scared, for there v/as the sound
of a door closing softly.

He listened, and there was a step, but it was not inside
the house, it was on the shingle path ; and as he darted to
the old bay window, he could see a shadowy figure hurry-
ing down the path.

" Gone ! " he said in a low voice, " gone ! Yes, I'll keep
my word — if I can."

He opened the casement window, and stood there
leaning against the heavy stone muHion, listening to the
low soft beating of the waves far below. The cool air
fanned his fevered cheek, and once more the power to
think seemed to be coming back.

He had had no idea of the lapse of time, and a flash of
broad sunlight came upon him like a shock, making him
start away from the window, now lit up, with the old
family shield and crest a blaze of brilliant colour.

'* Roy et I'oy,'' he read silently ', and the words seemed
to mock him.

Henri Comte des Vignes, the plotter in a robbery of the
man who had been his benefactor, perhaps his murderer.

" Comte des Vignes ! " he said, with a curious laugh.
" Boy ! vain, weak, empty-headed boy ! What have I done
—what have I done ? "

" Harry ! "

He started round with a cry to face his sister.

"Not been to bed?"

'■' No," he said wearily. " I could not sleep."

She laid her hands upon his shoulders and kissed him.

wm^

9. M'f.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

" Neither could I," she said, " for thinking of it all.
Harry, if he should die ! "

He looked down into the eyes gazing so questioning]/
into his, but his lips framed no answer.

He was listening to the echoing of his sister's words,
which seemed to go on and on thrilling through the mazes
of his brain, an infinitesimally keen and piercing sound at
last, but still so plain and clear —

''If he should die!"

V i ■ 'I

CHAPTER XXni.

UNCLE LUKE GROWS HARDER.

I i

" I WOULD not stop over these, my dears," said Vine, as
they sat ni breakfast, which was hardly tasted, **but if I
neglect them they will die."

He had a glass globe on the table, and from time to
time he went on feeding with scraps of mussel the beauti-
ful specimens of actiniae attached to a fragment of rock.

** We'll all go on directly and see if we can be of any
use. I'm glad KnatchbuU called as he went by."

**But what news !" said Louise sadly. "It seems so
terrible. Only yesterday evening so well, and now "

She finished her remark with a sob.

" It is very terrible," said her father ; " but I hope we
shall soon hear that the villains are caught."

Harry sat holding the handle of his tea-cup firmly, and
gazing straight before him.

" Voii'll go up to the office, of course, my boy ? " said
Vme.

" Eh ? Go up to the office ? " cried Harry, starting.

** Yes, as if nothing had happened. Do all you can to
assist Crampton."

" Yes, father."

" He was very quiet and reserved when I went in at
seven ; quite snappish, I might say. But he was too much
occupied and troubled, I suppose, to be very courteous to
such an old idler as I am. Ah ! " he continued, as a figure
passed the window, "here's Uncle Luke."

THE HAUTE XOBI.ESSE.

163

IH-

A cold chill had run through Harry at the mention of
Crampton — a chill of horror lest he should suspect any-
thing ; and now, at the announcement of his uncle's
approach, he felt a flush run up to his temples, and as if the
room had suddenly become hot.

" Morning," said Uncle Luke, entering without ceron jny,
a rush basket in one hand, his strapped-together rod in the
other.

" Breakfast? Late for breakfast, isn't it? "

" No, Luke, no ; our usual time," said his brother mildly.

'* You will sit down and have some, uncle ? "

" No, Louy, no," he replied, nodding his head and look-
ing a little less hard at her, " I've had some bread and
skim milk, and Lm just off to catch my dinner. The idiot
know ? "

" My dear Luke ! " said his brother mildly, as
Uncle Luke made a gesture upward towards Aunt Mar-
guerite's room ; ** why will you strive to increase the breach
between you and our sister ? "

" Well, she tells every one that I'm mad. Why shouldn't
I call her an idiot ? But nic; goings on, these. Wonder
you're all alive."

" Then you have heard ? "

" Heard? Of course. If I hadn't I could have read it
in your faces. Look here, sir," he cried, turning sharply
on his nephew, '* where were you last night? "

Harry clutched the table-cloth that hung into his lap.

" I ? Last night ? " he faltered.

*' Yes; didn't I speak plainly? Where were you last
night ? Why weren't you down at Van Heldre's, behav-
ing like a man, and figli for your master along with your
henchman ? "

*' Uncle, dear, don't be so unreasonable," said Louise,
leaning back and looking up in the old man's face — for he
had thrown his basket and rod on a chair, and gone behind
her to stand stroking her cheek — " Harry was at home
with Mr. Pradelle."

" Pradelle, eh ? " said the old man sharply. '* Not up ? "

" Mr. Pradelle has gone," said Louise.

" Gone, eh ? " said Uncle Luke sharply.

" Yes," said his brother. " Mr. Pradelle behaved very
iiicely. He left this note for me."

"Note, eh? Bank note-

'»

1 64

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

lis

i|:i

Hi W'^

Ha-rry winced and set his teeth.

" No, no, Luke. Nonsense!"

" Nonsense ? I mean to pay for his board and lodging
all the time he has been here."

"Absurd, Luke !" said his brother, taking up a liberal
meal for a sea anemone on the end of a thin glass rod.
" He said that under the circumstances he felt that he
should be an encumbrance to us, and therefore he had
gone by the earliest train."

" Like the sneak he is, eh, Harry ? "

The young man met his uncle's eyes for the moment,
and then dropped his own.

" You'll kill those things with kindness, George. Any
one would think you were fattening them for market. So
Master Pradelle has gone, eh ? Don't cry, Louy \ perhaps
we can coax him back."

He chuckled, and patted her cheek.

" Uncle, dear, don't talk like that. We are in such
trouble."

** About Van Heldre, that boy's master. Yes, of course.
Very sad for Mrs. Van and little Madelaine. Leslie was
down there as soon as one of the miners brought up the
news, trying to comfort them."

Harry's teeth gritted slightly, but he relapsed into his
former semi-cataleptic state, as if forced to listen, and
unable to move.

" I like Leslie," said Vine sadly.

"So do L At least, I don't dislike him so much as I
do some folks. Now if he had been there, he'd have be-
haved better than you did, Master Harry."

" Uncle, dear, don't be so hard on poor Harry."

" Poor Harry ! Good job he is poor. What's the good
of being rich for thieves to break through and steal ? "

" Ah ! what indeed ! " said his brother sadly.

" Look at Van Heldre, knocked on the head and going
to die."

" Uncle ! "

"Well, I dare say he will, and be at rest. Knocked on
the head, and robbed of five hundred pounds. My money,
every penny."

" Yours, Luke ? " jaid his brother, pointing at him with
the glass rod.

" Thanks, no, George ; give it to the sea anemone. I
don't like raw winkle."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

165

*' But you said that money was yours ? "

" Yes ; a deposit ; all in new crisp Bank of England
notes, Harry. Taking care of it for me till 1 got a fresh
investment."

" You surprise me, Luke."

" Always did. Surprised you more if Margaret had had
five hundred pounds to invest, eh? ""„

" Then the loss will fall upon you, uncle," said Louise
sympathetically, as she took the old man's hand.

" Yes, my dear. But better have the loss fall ui)on me
than Crampton's heavy ebony ruler, eh, Harry? "

The young man looked once more in the searching
malicious eyes, and nodded.

" Bad job though, Louy. I'd left poor Harry that
money in my will."

" Oh, uncle ! " cried Louise, holding his hand to her
cheek.

" Yes ; but not a penny for you, pussy. There, it don't
matter. I shan't miss the money. If I run short, George,
you'll give me a crust, same as you do Margaret."

'' My dear Luke, I've told you a hundred times, I should
be glad if you would give up that — that "

'* Dog kennel? " sneered the old cynic.

" That hut on the cliff, and come and share my home."

" Yes, two hundred limes. I'il swear," said Uncle Luke.
" You always were weak, George. One idiot's enough for
you to keep, and very little does for me. There's my
larder," he continued pointing toward the sea ; " and as
to Harry here, he won't miss the money. He's going to
be the Count dcs Vignes, and take Aunt Marguerite over
to Auvergne, to live in his grand chateau. Five hundred
pounds is nothing to him."

Tiie perspiration stood on Harry's brow, cold and damji,
and he sat enduring all this torture. One moment he felt
that his uncle .-.uspected him, the next that it was impossible.
At times a fierce sensation of rage bubbled up in his
breast, and he felt as if he would have liked to strangle
the keen-eyed old man ; but directly alter he felt that tliis
was his punishment called down by his wcaknjss and folly,
and that he must bear it.

" Going, Harry ? " said his father, as the young man
rose.

" Yes ; it is time I went on to the office."

166

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

"Goodboy. Punctuality's tlie soul (^f ]ju>inoss," said
Uncle JAikc. '' I'i.y we have no corporaliiMi here. \'ou
might rise to he mayor. Here, 1 don't think I shall gu
fishin^^ to-day. I'il sLoj), and go on with }'Ui two to sec
old \'an. l/>uy, dear, go and tell your aunt I'm here.
She might like to cc^me down and have a snarl."

'* Uncle, dear," said Lcniise, rising and kissing him,
"you can'l deceive me."

She went out after Harry.

"Not a ]'air, George," said Uncle Luke, grimly.
*' Lilly's Worth five hundred of the boy."

'■ He'd drive me mad, Lou, he'd drive me mad," cried
Harry, tearing his hand f.'-om his sister's grasp, and hurry-
ing away ; but only to run back repentant and kiss her
fondly before hurrying away.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE TRIFI,E THAT TELLS TALES.

As Harry Vine left his father's house, and hurried down
the slope he gazed wildly out to sea. There were no
thoughts of old Huguenot estates, or ancient titles, but
France lay yonder over that glistening sea, and as he
watched a cinnamon-sailed lugger gliding rapidly souih
and east, he longed to be aboard.

V/hy should he not do as Pradelle had done, escape from
the dangers which surrounded and hemmed him in ? li
was the easiest way out of his difficulties.

There were several reasons.

Togo would stam}) him with the crime, and sc» invite
pursuit. To d.o this was to disgrace father and sister, ar.d
perhai)s be taken and dragged back.

When he reac led the harbour, instead of turning down
to the left, by the estuary, he made liis way at once on Ic;
the shore, and after a little hesilation, })icked out the spot
where on the previous night he had thrown himself down.
half mad with the course he had been called upon to
take.

The engraved gold locket with which his nervous fingers
had so often played would be lying somewhere among the

THE JIAUTE NOBLESSE,

167

stones, perhaps caught ar.d WL-dgcd in a crevice. It was
so easy when lyin^j prone to catch such an ornament and
snap it off without kncnving. He looked carefully over the
heap of stones, and then around in every direction ; but
the locket was n(jt there.

" It must be somewhere about," he said angrily, as if he
willed that it should ; but there was no sign of the glitter-
ing piece of wcll-i)olished gold, and a suspicion that had
for a long time being growing increased raj)idly in force,
till he could bear it no longer, and once more something
seemed to uru'c him to llv.

He had clung so to that hope, shutting his eyes to the
truth, and going down to the beach to search for the locket.
Even when he had not found it, he said that perhaps some
child had p)icked it uj) ; but there was the truth now
refusing to be smothered longer, and he walked on hastily
to reach Van Heldre's oflice, so as to search for the locket
there. For it was the truth he had fell that sudden snatch,
that tug when the old merchant da .hcd at him, and then
fill. 'The locket was torn off ilien. He micht not be too
late. In the hurry and confusion it might not have been
i^ccn.

The ordinary door of entrance to the offices was closed,
iind at the hotisc the blinds were half drawn down. He
fell that he could not go to the front door. So after a little
hesitation, he went roimd into the back lane, and with a
strange sensation of dread, passed through the gateway
and down the stei)S into the neatly ke])t garden yard.

ICverything was very still ; and Harry Vine, with an
atlem])t to look as if entirely bent upon his ordinary task,
Went up to the door, entered the glass corridor, as he had
entered it the nigl;t before, and by a trem.endous effort of
will walked quickly into the outer office.

The inner door was open, and after a hasty glance round,
he was in the act of crossing to it when he found himself
face to face with the old ck'-k. For some moments neither
spoke — tiie old man gazing straight at Harr\' with a pecu-
liar, stony glare, and the latter, so throv.'u off his balance,
that no Words would conic.

" Good morning," he said at last.

The old man continued to stare as if looking him through
-^.mithrourh.

" What do you want? " he said at last.

I ,

168

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

"Want? It is past nine o'clock, and

" Go back. The office is closed."

** Go back ? " said Harry, troubled by the old man's
manner more than by the announcement ; for it seemed
natural that the office should be closed.

"Yes, young man ; you can go back."

" But- "

" I said, go back, sir — go back ! The office is closed,"
said the old man fiercely \ and there was something menac-
ing in the manner of his approach, as he backed his
junior to the closed door, and unlocked it and pointed lo
the street.

" Mr. Crampton — " began Harry.

The old man looked at him as if he could have struck
him down, waved him aside, and closed and locked the
door.

Harry stood a few moments thinking. What could he
do to gain an entrance there, and have a quiet search of
the ])lacc ? The only plan oi)en seemed to be to wait until
Crampton had gone away.

He had just come to this conclusion, after walking a short
distance along the street and returning, when a fresh sl.ock
awaited him. Van Heldre's front door was open, and
Duncan Leslie came out, walking quickly towards him, but
not noticing whom he approached till they were face to
face.

" Ah, Mr. Vine," he said, holding out his hand ; " I had
some thought of coming up to you."

" What for ? "

" What for ? Surely at a time like this there ought not
to be a gap between friends. I am afraid yoji misunder-
stood me the other night. I am very sorry. There is my
hand."

But trembling with that other anxiety, Harry Vine had
still the old sting of jealousy festering in his breast. Leslie
had just come from Van Heldre's ; perhaps he had been
talking with ALidelaine even there ; and, ignoring the prof-
fer, Harry bowed coldly and was passing on, but Leslie
laid his hand upon his arm.

"•If I have been more in the wrong than I think, pray
tell me," said Leslie. " Come, Vine, you and I ought net
to be ill friends."

For a moment the desire was upon him to grasp the

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

169

extended hand. It was a time when he was ready to cling
to anyone for help and support, and the look in his eyes
changed.

" Ah, that's better ! " said Leslie frankly. " I want to
talk to you."

Why not go with him? Why not tell Leslie all, and ask
his help and advice ? He needed both sorely. It was but
a moment's fancy, which he cast aside as mad. What would
Leslie say to such a one as he ? And how could he take
the hand of a man who was taking the place which should
be his ?

Leslie stood still in the narrow seaport street for a few
moments, looking after Harry, who had turned off suddenly
and walked away.

CHAPTER XXV.

ON THE RACK.

How was he to pass that day ? At home in a state of
agony, starting at every word, trembling at every knock
which came to the door ? He felt that he could not do
that, and that he must be engaged in some way to crush
down the thoughts which were fermenting in his brain.

Certain now that he had lost the locket in the slight
struggle in the office, he literally determined to leave no
stone unturned, and walked once more down to the beach,
where he went on searching, till glancing up he saw Poll
Perrow, the old fish woman, resting her arm on the rail at
the edge of the cliff, looking down at him, and apparently
watching him.

That was sufficient to turn him from his quest, and he
went off hastily, and without intent, to find himself upon
the long, narrow, pier-like point which acted as a break-
water to the harbour.

He went on and on, till he reached the end, where with
the sea on three sides, and the waves washing at his feet,
he sat down on one of the masses of rock as his uncle so
often took up his position to fish, and watched the swirling
current that ran so swiftly by the end of the point.

" How easy it would be," he thought, " to step down off

I' r

170

THE HAUTE A'OIU.ESJ^E.

iil

the end of the rock into the sea, and be carried right
away."

•* And disgrace thorn by acting like a coward," he said
lialf aloud ; and leaping up he walked swiftly jjack to the
cliff, and then went up the path that led to home.

At the door he met Louise and his father.

" Back again, Harry?" said the latter, wonderingly.

" Yes ; the place is shut up. No business to-day," he
said hastily.

" Did you see Madelaine ? " asked I>ouise, anxiously.

He shook his head.

" Or poor Mrs. Van Heldre ? " said his father.

" No ; I th(jught it would worry them."

" But you asked how Van Heldre was ? "

*' No," said Harry, confusedly. " I — it seemed a pity to
disturb them.''

" Come back and make amends," said Vine rather
sternly. " They must not think we desert them in their
trouble."

" But both you and T.oui . have been on this morning."

" Yes, and would have stayed if it would have helped
them," said Vine. "Come."

Harry hung back for a moment, and then, in the hope
that he might ])e able to sli}) away from them, and search
the office in Crami)ton's absence, he went on by their side.

To the surprise of all, as they reached the house the
door was opened by Crampton, who stood scowling in the
doorway, and barred the way.

" How is he now, Crampton?" said Vine, as Harry's
heart began to palpitate with the fear that all this was
intended for him.

" Dying," said the old man, shortly.

" No, no, not so bad as that," cried Louise and her
father in a breath. " Doctor KnatchbuU said "

" What doctors always say, Miss Louise, that while
there's life there's hope. 'Tisn't true. There's often life
and no hope, and it's so here."

" Crampton, you are taking too black a view of the
matter," said Vine, quickly. *• It's very good of you to be
so much moved as his old and faithful servant, but let's all,
as a duty, look on the best side of things."

" There is no best side," said Crampton, bitterly. " The
whole world's corrupt. Well ; wiiat do you people want
to say ? "

rirr iiArrr. xopifsse.

"To say? \\'i' have come lo be of help if wo can.
Come, Louise, my dear."

He took a step forward, l)iit tlic old mai"> stood fast.

"Vol! know all there is to know," said the old clerk
sourly, as he locked half angrily at \'ine, and then, totally
ignoring Harry, he turniil his eyes on l>ouise, when the
hard luok softened a little. ".Send in l)y-andd)y if you
want to hear, or I'll send to you -if he die'i."

" Dies ! " cried Vine, with a start of horror. *' No, no ;
he is not so bad as that."

"As bad as a man can be lo live."

"Vou forget \ourself, Crami)ton," said Vine, \\ ith
dignity. " \'ou forget yourself. ]iut there, I can look
over it all now. 1 know what you must feci, do and tell
Mrs. Van Heldre or Miss .Madelaine that we are here.''

'J'he old man hesitated for a few moments, and then
drew back to allow Louise and her father to j)ass ; but as
Harry stepped forw.ird hastily to follow, the o'd man
interposed, and fiercely iai>. d i is hand.

"No," he said. "I'm master now. Go back! Go
back ! "

Harry shrank from him as Crampton stood pointing
down the street, and then strove hard to master the abject
sensation of dread which made him feel that all the old
man said was true. He was master now, and with an angry
gesture he turned and walked swiftl) away, to turn as he
reached the end of the street and see Crampton watching
him from the doorstep, and with his hand still raised.

"Am I such an abject coward diat I am frightened of
that old man ? " he muttered, as lu, '•'•c.alled how o' U' a
few hours back he used to treat him with a flippant con-
descending contempt. '' Yes. he's master now, and means
to show it. Why did I not go in boldly? "

He knew why, and writhed in his impotence ai d dread.
The task of keeping a bold face on the matter was harder
than he thought, He w;tndered about the town in an
objectless way hour after hour, and then went home. His
father and sister had not irturned, but Aunt MargU'iite
was down, ready to rise in iier artificial manner and extend
her hand.

"Ah, Henri, my child," she said ; "liow pale and care-
worn you look ! Where are they ail? "

"Van Heldre's," said Harry shortly.

♦

I7»

THE HAUTF. NO B I. ESS R.

fit

i ^mm

*' Ah, poor man ! Very bad, I hear. Yes, it's very sad,
but I do not sec why his accident should so reverse our
regular lives at home. Henri, dear, you must break wiih
Mr. Van Heldrc after this."

" I have broken with him, aunt," cried the young man
fiercely.

" Ah ! that's right ; that is spoken like one of our race
should speak. Good boy. And, Henri, my darling, of
course there will be no more silly flirtings with you sister's
friend. Remember what I have told you of the fair daugh-
ters of Franco, and let the fraiilein marry that man Leslie."

** Aunt, you'll drive me mad," exclaimed Harry, grind-
ing his teeth ; and without another word he dashed out of
the house. His first thought was to go up the clifi'-i)alh on
to the wild granite plain and moors which overlooked the
town, but he could not stir in that direction. 'I'here was
the hunting dread of that locket being found, and he went
on down again into the town, and looked about the shore
for hours.

The afternoon was growing old, and his mind was
becoming better able to bear the brunt of all that was to
come.

He raised his eyes, and was on the point of going back
home to see if his father and sister had returned, when he
caught sight of old Crampton coming out of the post-
oflfice, after which the old man walked on in the direction
of his home.

The opportunity at last ! The office would be unguarded ;
and, walking sv/iftly in the direction of Van Heldre's, he
turned round into the back lane, and, strung up to act
firmly and determinedly, he pressed the back gate.

It was fast.

Desperate and determined now, he went round to the
principal office-door, but it was locked. Harry drew a long
breath, and walked straight to the front door and rang.
The maid who opened drew back to 'et him pass.

" My father — sister here ? "

" In the drawing-room ; in with my mistress.'

" No, no," said Harry hastily, as the maid moved
towards the door ; " never mind me ; I'll go in soon."

The woman left him in the hall, and he waited till he
heard the kitchen-door close, when he walked swiftly and
softly to the glass window, and hurried into the office.

II. i ■

THE IfACTE NOBLESSE.

173

Tlic inner office-door was open, and he darted in, to
Iiastily look all round, under table, chairs, beneath the
luioksholves, among the newspapers that lay in places in a
hi-aji ; but there was no sign of the missing trinket, and an
icy reeling of dread began to grow upon him.

The waste-paper basket !

li was half full, and the locket might easily have dropped
v\ there, but a hasty examination was without avail.

The firei)lace !

lie looked there, in the ready-laid fire, beneath the
grite, in the fender ; he even raised it, but without avail.

'• It niu. I be here somewhere," he muttered fiercely ; and
he looked round again, and in amongst the papers on the
table.

Siill without avail.

'• It is in the waste-paper basket," he said, with a feeling
of convi( lion upon him, as, trembling in every limb, he
went to the other side of the table where it stood.

"What's that?"

A faint sound. Was it Crampton returning?

He stood listening, his brow glistening with the cold
perspiration ; and as he remained breathless and intent, he
seemed to see again the office as it was on the previous
night, almost totally dark, the safe opened, and the
shadowy figure of Van Heldrc dashing at him.

Was it fancy, or was the place really dark ? A curious
.nist was before his eyes, but all was silent ; and he went
(1 )wn on his knees, turned ll c vaste-paper basket upside
(lou'n — tlie torn letter? cn'clo:x's,and circulars forming a
heap on the well-worn '.'. nrke> ^n -pet ; but no piece of metal
fj'.l out with a lo\'. pat

" It is here ; it • h^^ro ; i' shall be here," he panted ;
and tlicn he sprang to his feet shivering with shame and
dread, face to face with Madelaine Van Heldre, who, pale
^vilh emotion, heavy-eyed with weeping, but erect and
stern, flashed upon him a look full of anger and contempt.

"Ah, Madelaine!" he stammered, "have you seen a
half-written letter — must be here somewhere — left on my
desk?"

" Henri dcs Vignes — the soul of honour I " she said
bitterly. *' Have you fallen so low as this?"

'* I — I don't understand vou."

" You coward ! And you can lie to me — the v/oman
you professed to love ! "

-^IIE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

" Madelaine, for pity's sake."

" Let me tell you what you arc looking for."

" I— looking for ? "

"Yes ; you are looking for something for fear it should
fall into the hands of the police."

*' I don't know what you mean."

" Oh ! is it possible that a man can be so base ? Let
me tell you, then. You arc looking for the locket sna])pcd
from your chain when my jioor father was stricken dcwn."

" Madelaine ! what are you saying ? "

" Stricken down by the wretch whom, in my pity and
love, I 'jad asked him to receive into his house, that he
might redeem his character, and prove to the world that
he had only been weak."

"You — you did this ! " he gasped.

*' I did this ; and found that in his love for his old friend
my father had already determined to be a second father to
his son."

"Oh!"

"And for what? To bring him where he might play
the part of serpent on the hearth, and sting him to the
quick."

" Madelaine, for God's sake, mercy ! "

She could have none then.

" To give shelter, ah ! and, some day, the hand of the
weak, trusting girl who loved him, and said, ' Give him
time, father, and he will change ' — to give him some day
her hand and love, and welcome him as a son."

" Madelaine ! " he cried, throwing himself on his knees,
to clasp the hem of her dress and literally grovel at her
feet.

" To the man who could stoop to be a vile contemptible
thief ! "

" No, no, no ! " cried Harry, springing to his feet ;
"not that— not that."

"And rob him."

" No ; anything but that. I swear I did not do that."

" And when detected in the act did net scruple to play
the would-be murderer."

" Madelaine, have pity ! "

" And cruelly struck him down."

" Madelaine. All you say is not true."

" Not true ? Gf; up to where he lies hovering between

THE HAUTE XOBI ESSE.

«7S

life and death, and sec your work. Coward ! Villain !
Oh, lliat I :>hould cer have iKcn so weak as to think that
I loved su'h a v.-rctch as v<ni ! "

He drew himself \\\i.

" It is not true," he said. '- 1 did not '^ommit that theft ;
and it was in my agony and shame a', being found before
the safe that I struck him down."

'* Voii confess you \vere there — that you were a partner
in the crime ? "

"Yes, I was there," said Harry slowly ; '* and I sinned.
Well, I am ready. Take your revenge. I am in your
hands. You have the evidence of my crime. Denounce
mc, and let me go out of your sight for ever."

'•And my father's old friend — my second father? And
Louise, my more than sister. What of them ? "

He quailed before her as she stood, her eyes flashing, a
hectic flush on either cheek ; and he felt he had never
known Madelaine Van Heldre till then.

" Oh ! " he groaned as he covered his face with his
hands, " I am guilty. Let me suffer," he said slowly.
"They will soon forget, for I shall be as one who is dead."

" No," she said ; " I cannot speak. If he who is hover-
ing between life and death could advise, he would say,
'Be silent; let his conscience be his judge.' I say the
same. Go. The locket is not there."

*' The police ? " he cried in a questioning tone.

"No," she said, "the secret was mine. I found it
tightly clasped in my poor father's hand."

" Then the secret is sai*e."

"Safe?" she said scornfully. "Safe? Yes, it is my
secret. You asked for mercy. I give it you, for the sake
of all who are dear to me ; and because, if he lives, my
poor father would not prosecute the son of his old friend.
There is your locket. I'ake it, and I pray heaven we may
never meet again. Crampton ! "

" Yes, Miss Maddy, Crampton — old Crampton, who held
you in his arms when you were one hour old."

" What are you doing here ? "

"Wacching my master's interests — watching over you.**

" Tnen you have heard ? " ■

" Kvery word, my child."

" You cursed spy I " cried Harry fiercely, as he seized
the old man by the throat.

176

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

"You've done enough, Master Harry Vine, enough to
transport you, sir ; and if he dies to send you to your
death."

" Crampton ! " shrieked Madehiine, as Harry drew back
trembling.

** Be merciful, like you, my dear? No, 1 cannot."

" Then you'll go and tell "

" What I've heard now, my dear ? No ; there is no
need."

*' What do you mean? "

'*To watch over you, whetner my poor master lives or
dies. I know you ! You'd forgive iiim if he asked."

"Never! But Crampton, it is our secret. He must
go — to repent. Dear Crampton," she cried, throv/ing her
arms about his neck, '* you must be merciful too ! "

" Too late, my dear," said the old man sternly ; '* too
late."

He placed his arm round her and drew her to his
breast, as if to defend her fiom Harry.

" When I went home that night," he continued in a
slow, solemn voice, "I felt that something was not right,
and I came on here — in time to sec "

'* Oh ! " cried Madelaine.

" In time to see that shivering, guilty wretch flee from
where he had struck my poor master down ; and if I had
been a young man and strong I could have killed him for
his crime."

" You saw him? "

" Yes, my dear. No need for the locket to bear witness.
I had my duty to do, and it is done."

" Done ? "

*' Yes ; to punish him for his crime."

" Crampton, what have you said ? Harry ! before it is
loo late ! "

" It is too late, my child. See here." He h'^ld out a
scrap of reddish pajicr. "From the London police. I
could not trust those bunglers here."

Madelaine snatched the i)apcr from his hand and read it.

" Oh ! " she moaned, and the paper dropped from her
hand.

Harry snatched it from the floor, read it, let it fall, and
reeled against the table, whose edge he grasped.

Madelaine struggled and freed herself from the old
man's detaining arm.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

177

" Harry ! " she panted — ** it would be my father's wish
— escape ! There may yet be time."

He leaned back against the table, gazing at her wildly,
as if he did not grasp her words. Then he started as if
stung by a sudden lash ab old Crampton said :

•' 1 have done my duty. It is too late."

CHAPTER XXVI.

LESLIE MAKES A DECLARATION.

" Where is Harry ? '* said George Vine that same evening,
as he sat in his study, surrounded by his living specimens
of natural history, and with the paper before him that he
had vainly tried to fill.

" He must be waiting about down in the town — for news,"
said Louise, looking up from her work

" He ought to have been here to dinner, my dear," said
the naturalist querulously ; *' it would have been some
comfort. Tut — liii — tut ! I cannot collect my thoughts ;
everything seems to slip from me."

"Then why not leave it, dear, for the present? This
terrible trouble iias unhinged you."

She had risen and gone to the back of his chair, to j)ass
her arm lovingly about his neck, and he leaned back,
dropj)ing his pen to take her hand and play with it, pres-
sing it to his lips from time to time.

" I suppose I had belter," he said sadly ; '* but I am
dreadfully behindhand — four letters from the Society un-
answered. I wish they did not expect so much from me,
my darling."

" I do not," said Louise, smiling. " W!iy should you
wish to be less learned than you arc ? "

" Had we not better go on again to Van Htldre's now ? "

" I think I would leave it till cpiite the last thing."

** Ye — cs," said Vine, hesitating, " perhaps so ; but I
don't like it, my child. Van Ileldre has always been to
me like a brother, and it seems so strange and hard to be
ahnost diiven from his side. Doctor's like a tyrant, and
as for Crampton — there, wait till the poor fellow is well
again, and if we together do not give Master Crampton a
severe setting down, my name is not what it is."

1 78

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

Iji !

"You must forgive it, dear; he is so anxious about his
master."

'* Yes, yes, of course," said Vine pettishly ; '* but the
man is so insolently overbearing. Really, my dear, if he
has been in the habit of behaving to Harry ai. he has con-
ducted himself towards us, 1 do not wonder at the poor
boy's intense dislike to the office routine."

" It is not fair to judge him now," said Louise.

** No, my dear, I suppose not ; but it is very painful,
when I feel as if you and I have (juite a right in that poor
fellow's bt.'droom, to be literally txi)elled, Madclaine siding
with the doctor, and poor Mrs. Van Heldre really utterly
broken down."

" We should only make matters more painful ])y inter-
fering. Let us go and ask how Mr. Van Heldre is about
ten, and 1 will get ^Ladelaine to let me sit up with her and
help."

•' No," snid Vine, rising and i)acing the room, " I shall
not sit do\vn quietly. 1 feel that it is my duty to insist
upon being the:-*. I shall go up at once."

" Wait till I put on my things, dear."

*' No ; I shall only go for an hour now, and I will come
back and fetch you later on."

" But, papa, dear ! ''

" There, there, there ! don't be alarmed, I shall not get
out of temi)er with Cram[)ton now. That will keep."

" Then you will go — now ? "

" Yes," he said decidedly ; '• I cannot sit here."

" ])Ut you hardly tjsied your dinner. Let me get you
some tea first."

" My dear child, T can touch nothing ; and pray don't
oppose mc. I am in such a state of nervous irritation that
if you do I am sure I shall say something unkind, and then
I shall be more u])set than 1 am now."

*' 1 am not afraid," said Louise, hanging on his shoulder
for a few moments, and then kissing his wrinkled, careworn
brow.

** Thank you, my darling, thank you. You will not mind
being left? Harry ought to be here."

" Uh, no, d'-ar ; but yuu will come back soon and tell me
all. Harry will be here before then."

" Of course, my dear, of course."

" And you will give my dear love to Madtiainc," Loui:=?e
cried, as her father moved away from me door.

TjiL UAurr. xoBi.r.ssE.

179

He nodded, and with bended head went off down the
juath, wliilc, after watching till he had disappeared, Louise
stood i^azing out to sea, as the evening began to close in,
and a soft, melancholy breeze came whispering among the
trees.

She could not tell why it was, tnit cverythmg seemed to
wear a different asj)cct, and a profound sense of dejection
came \\\>o\\ her, which bmvght the tears to her eyes.

^\■he^e could Harry br ? It was hours since she had
seen him, and as she felt how much she recpiired helj) and
counsel at that time, her thoughts strayed to Duncan
Leslie, and she looked across an intervening depression
to the stcej) cliff path, which led up i)ast Tncle Luke's (\q\\
to the Mine House, where a faint light twinkled, and away
beyond, like a giant finger pointing upward, the great
chimney shaft towered.

She stood gazing at that faint I'ght for some minutes,
with her eyes growing dim, and the troubled feelings which
had often assailed her in secret increasing till, with cheeks
burning and an angry ejaculation, she turned into the
house, where she fetched her work from the study, and
was soon after seated by the window trying to sew. At
the end of a few minutes she rose and rang for the lamp,
wiiich was brought in by the cook.

" Where's Liza?" said Louise.

"Gone down into the town, ma'am," said the cook,
looking at her uneasily.

" What for ? She did not ask leave."

" She said she would not be long, ma'am," said the
woman evasively.

'■' Tell her to bring in the tea the moment my father
returns. Let everything be ready."

"Yes, ma'am."

The woman hurried out, and Louise sat gazing at the
door, tliinking that the woman's manner was strange.

" I am upset," she' said with a sigh, '' and that makes
things seem different."

She had been dreaming over her work for a few minutes
when she started, for she heard voices talking loudly. She
sat up in her chair with her senses on the strain, trembling
lest there should be bad news from the Van Hcldre's. She
was not kept long in suspense, for there was a quick step
in the hall, a sharp rap at the door, and Liza entered,

i8o

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

scarlet with excitement and "xertion, her hawl over one
arm, her hat hanging by its strings from th other.

"Liza!"

'* Yes, miss, it's me. Can I speak to you a minute ? "

" Have you brought news from Mr. Van Heldre's ? "

" Which I have, miss, and I haven't."

" How is he?" cried Louise, paying no heed to Liza's
paradoxical declaration.

" No better, and no worse, miss ; but it wasn't about
that. I leaves you this day month, miss ; and as much
sooner as you can suit yourself."

" Very well, Liza. That will do."

"No, miss!" cried the girl excitedly, "it won't do.
Tusing i)coplc o' being thiefs when it was nothing but a
bit of a bundle o' old rags and things I saved, as might ha'
been burnt, and they bought 'em of me, and I bought llic
ribbons o' them."

*' I do not wish to hear anymore about that transaction,
Li/a ; but I am glad to hear you can explain it away.
You should have been frank at first."

*'So ought other people, miss, if you'll excuse me ; antl
not go taking away a poor servant's character by alluding
to money left on no chimley-pieces as I never took."

"Liza!"

" Yes, miss ; I know, and thinking o' sending for the
police."

*' I had too much feeling for you, Eliza, and for your
future character. I did not even send you away."

'• I siiould think not indeed, miss. Mother and me's as
honest as the day ; and if you want police send for 'em for
them as has been picking and stealing."

" My good girl, wha^ do you mean ? "

"Oh, you don't know, o* course, miss; but you very
soon will. And him with his fine airs, and his boots never
shiny enough. He'll find out the difference now ; and as
to me staying in a home like this where one of us is a
thief, I've got my character to look after, and-

Tliere was a sharp knock and ring, and from force of
habit, Liza turned.

" \\\ a month, miss, if you please ; and now you're going
to hear what come nn hour ago, and is all over the tcun
by now."

Louise caugiit at the table to steady herself, and her lii'S

THE IIAVTE NOIU.ESSE,

l8i

parted to question the girl, but she had luirrled oiit of the
ro( >m. The door was opened, a deep male voice was heard,
nnd directly after Duncan Leslie hurried in.

" It is no time for ceremony," he gasped, breathlessly.
"Where is your father? "

" At — Mr. Van Heldrc's," i)anted Louise as she turned
to him with extended hands. **Mr. Leslie, pray — i)ray
t.ll me — what is wrong ? "

" Tell you? " he cried, catching her almost in his arms,
and holding her firmly; and his voice sounded deep,
hoarse and full of commiseration. " How am I to dare to
tell vou, Louise ? "

"Mr. Leslie!"

She half struggled from him, but he retained her hands.

"Tell me." he cried; "what shall I say? Am I to
S[)cak. out ? "

'' Yes, quick ! You torture me."

" Torture you, whom I would die to save from pain ! "

She trembled and flushed, and turned pale by turns.

" I must tell you," he said ; *' there is no time to spare.
I liavc — try and bear it, my child, like the true, brave heart
you are. Your brother "

" Yes ; quick ! w hat-do you mean ? "

Leslie stood looking at her for a few moments, his mind
dragged two ways, and shrinking from giving his news as
he gazed into her dilated eyes.

" Why do you not speak ? " she said passionately. " Do
you not see the pain you give me? "

" I must speak," he groaned. " Where is your brother ?
There is a horrible rumour in the town. Mr. Crampton — "

" Crampton ! "

" Accuses your ])rother of having robbed and struck
down Mr. Van Heldre."

" It is a lie I " she cried fiercely, as she snatched away
her hands, gazing at him with flashing eyes and l)urning
cheeks. " My brother a thief — almost a murderer 1 Oh I "

" It cannot be true," said Leslie ; " but— — "

" Weak and reckless and foolish ; but — oh, why have
you come up to say these things ? "

" Because I love you ! " he cried passionately ; and he
caught her hands in his, and held them tightly, " Because
I ]:ncw that the horrible charge must soon reach your ears,
and that it would be better that it should come from me —
when you were in trouble — when you wanted help."

i8a

77//; //. / 1 '7'/; xc v"/ /:ss/:.

** It IS not true — it is not true ! " cried Louise, excitedly.

" Where is he ? Let mc see him. I may l;c able to advise
and help. Louise, dear Louise, let this terrible time of
trial be that which i)rings us together. Let me prove to
you how I love you by being your counsellor, your aid
in this time of need."

She heard his words, uttered with an earnestness which
told their truth ; but their effect was merely to arouse her
indignation. How dared he take advantage of her agony
and weakness at a time like tliis, and insult her with pro-
fessions ! It was an outrage.

"Don't shrink from me," he whispered. " I will say
no more now. Forgive my clumsy blundering out of the
words I have for months been longing to speak. Only let
me feel that you understand me — that I may love ; and
then you will turn to me for hclj) in this lime of trouble."

For answer she j)oinled to the door.

" It is false," she cried ; '• my brother a common thief! "

" It must be false," he echoed, ngainst his own ])elief ;
"but the charge has been made, and he must be warned
in time."

'' Warned in time? " she cried. '* And you who profess
to be our friend stood by and heard this charge made, and
did not strike down the villain who made it."

** Miss Vine — Louise, you are histy. The shock I know
is terrible, but we must be prci)ared to meet it. He must
not be taken unawares."

*' My brother can meet such a charge as a gentleman
should. It is not the first time that so foul an attack has
been made against an innocent man."

** You are too hard upon me," he pleaded. " How could
I, loving you as I do "

" Loving ! " she cried, scornfully.

" What have I done ? " he groaned. " I ran up here
directly to try and be of service. In my excitement, I
spoke words that I should have kept back for a time, but
they would have vent, and — No, I am not ashamed of
what I have said/' he <^ried, drawing himself up. '' Louise
Vine, I love you, and I must help you and your brother in
this terrible strait."

" Then go back to the town, and tell all who have dared
to say my ])rother committed this crime that what they say
is false, and that his father^ his sister will prove his
innocence. Gv? 1 "

t«3

Louise, go to

THE IIAVTE NOBLESSE.

^^Vcs.go: said a shriil, Ilu-.^Ii voice.
your room and let iiic speak to ihis man."

" Aunt, you liavc heard?"

•'\'es,lVoni the rcrv.^nts. And I liearJ his last insult-
ing words. (jO to you' room, child."

She thrtw open the room, and, accustomed to obey from
her ciiildhood, Louise moved slowly towards the hall; but
as she turned sli'dulv to dart a last indignant look at the
man who had set her heart heating wildly as he at the
sanij time roused lier iiidi:^nation, she saw such a look of
a^^'ony that her courage failed, a strange sense of i)ity stole
ihrough her, and she stepped back and took her aunt's
arm.

■ IIusli^ aunt dear/' she said, " there is no need to say
mirc. Mr. Leslie has made a great mistake in bringing up
that cruel report, and he will go now and contradict it for
my brother's sake."

'• And apologise for his insult/' cried Aunt Marguerite
fiercely. " Child, I bade you go to your room."

" Ves, aunt. I am going."

'* I must speak to this man alone."

" Aunt, dear — "

" Pray go, Miss Vine," said Leslie, approaching and
taking her hand.

She yielded, and he led her to the door.

" Xotliing your aunt can say will change my feelings
towards you, When you are calm you will forgive me.
J>elieve me, [ will do everything to clear your brother from
this charge."

She looked at him wildly, and still hesitated to obey her
aunt's words. Finally, she gave way, Leslie held the door
open till she was on the stairs, and then closed it, his
manner completely changing as he turned and faced Aunt
Marguerite, who stood with her head thrown back, and
an indignant look of anger in her keen eyes.

" So, sir," she exclaimed, " you, in your common igno-
rance of everything connected with the social life of such
a iauiiiy as ours, dare to come up as a tale-bearer — as one
of our servaiits did a few minutes back — and tell this piti-
ful story about my nephew."

" I grieved greatly. Miss Vine," said Leslie inr quiet
husiness-like tones.

"You grieved I " she cried. " A theft ! Do you know
that a des Vignes would prefer death to dishonour? "

1 84

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

'* No, madam ; but I am very glad to hear it, for that
])cing the case Harry Vine must be innocent."

*' Innocent ! " she cried scornfully. " My nephew
Henri ! As if it could be for a moment in doubt ! "

•* I shall strive hard to help Mr. Vine, your brother, to
clear him from this disgrace."

** Disgrace, sir? It is no disgrace. If the canaille
cast mud at one of noble lineage, does it disgrace him ?
No. The disgrace is where some plebeian — some trading
person — is mad enough to advance his pretensions, and
dares to address a lady as I heard you address my niece.
Let me see, sir, did I not once give you to understand that
Miss Louise dcs Vignes would in all probability be soon
married to a gentleman of Auvergne— a gentleman whose
I'neage ir> as noble as her own? "

" 1 did understand something of the kind, madam ; but
until I see Miss Louise Vine another's wife, I shall boldly
advance my i)re tensions, hoping to the last."

** Even supposing that her brother has committed some
faux pas f "

" That would be the greater inducement to me to stand
by her in her time of need."

^' Most gratifying, 1 am sure, Mr. Leslie, and highly cre-
ditable to one of your nationality," said Aunt Marguerite
sneeringly, as she raised her glass to her eye, and gazed
at him in an amused way. " Now may I ask you to leave
me ? My brother and my nephew are from home, and I
cannot entertain you as I am sure you would wish. Good
evening, Mr. Leslie — good evening."

She bowed him out with a sneering smile upon her thin
lips, and Leslie hurried back towards the town.

" What shall I do ? " he muttered. " Oh, that sneering
old woman, how she does raise one's gall ? Poor Louise !
she did look more gentle toward the last ; and I don't
believe in the Frenchman of great lineage. If there is one,
let's do battle as they did of old, if he likes. What a fool I
was to speak as I did just when she was so full of trcublc !
I must have been mad — a declaration of love, and an
announcement that the poor girl's brother was in trouble.
The young idiot ! The scoundrel ! How I should like
to have-his drilling for the next five years ! What shall I
do? I must help him. It's true enough, I'm afraid ; and
he must have the best lethal help. If I had only somcore
to consult with. Van Heldre would have been the man."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

185

There was a pause as the young man thouglit deeply of
what steps he ouglit to take next.

"Yes, with all his sham cynicism and silly whims, the
old man is shrewd, and can help when he likes. Uncle
Luke 1 "

I i

CHAPTER XXVII.

A BROTHER S APPEAL.

Louise Vine stood trembling in her own room, listening
till she heard the door close, and Duncan Leslie's step
on the gravel. Her agitation was terrible, and in place of
being clear-headed and ready to act in this emergency,
she felt as if her brain was in a turmoil of contending
emotions. Indignation on her brother's behalf, anger
against Leslie for his announcement, and another form of
anger which she could not define struggled with a desire
to go to her brother's helj), and at last she placed her
hands to her head and pressed them there.

" What shall I do ? " she panted.

" Louise, Louise, my child ! "

It was Aunt IVLarguerite's voice, and there was a sharp
tapping on the panel of the door after the handle had
been turned.

" Louise, my child, unlock this door."

She made iio reply, but stood with her hands clasped
together, listening to the sharp voice and the quick
tapping repeated on the panel. Both ceased after a iii^'
minutes, and Aunt Marguerite's door was heard to close
loudly.

" I could not talk to her now," muttered the girl. " She
makes me so angry. She was so insulting to Mr. Leslie.
But he deserved it," she said aloud, with her checks burn-
ing once more, and her eyes Hashing, as she drew herself
up. " My brother — a common thief — the man who injured
Mr. Van Heldre ! It is not true."

She started violently and began to tremble, for there was
a sharj) pattering on her window "panes, as if someone had
thrown a few small shots. Would Duncan Leslie dare to
summon her like that ? The jjattering was repeated, and

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i86

THE IL^. ' TE NOBLESSE.

111

she went cautiously to the window, to make out in the
gloom a figure that certainly was not that of Leslie.

She opened the casement with nervous anxiety now.

" Asleep ? " cried a hasty voice. " There, stand aside —
I'm coming up."

There was a rustling noise — a sharp crack or two, a
hand was thrown over the window-sill, and, panting with
exertion, Harry climbered in.

" Harry ! " cried Louise in alarm, for his acts, his furtive
way of coming to tlic house, and his manifest agitation did
not suggest innocence.

" Hush ! Don't talk aloud. AVhere's the governor ? "

" Father is at Mr. Van Heldre's."

Harry drew a quick spasmodic breath.

" And Aunt Marguerite ? "

*' In her room. But, Harry ! "

" Be quiet. Don't talk. Let me get my breath."

Louise stood before him with her hands clasped, and a
flow of agonising thoughts seemed to sweep her reason
away. All was confusion, but above the flood there was
one thing to which she clung — Harry was innocent. In
spite of everything hi the way of appearance, he was inno-
cent ; nothing should turn her from that.

" Well," he said suddenly, " haven't you anything to
say ? "

There was a savage vindictive tone in his voice which
startled her more than his previous threatening way.

'' Yes ; where have you been ? Why do you come back
like this ? "

" Where have I been ? Up on the clifl"s, wandering about
among the rocks, and hiding till it grew dark and I could
come home. And why did 1 come home like this ? You
know. Of course you have heard."

*' Mr. Leslie came, and "

'' Mr. Leslie ! " cried Harry with a mocking laugh.
" Save us from our friends."

Louise's .".ympathy swung round on the instant to the
side of the attacked ; and, hardly knowing what she said —

" Mr. Leslie came to bear some terrible news, and to
offer to help you."

" To help me ! " cried Harry with the eagerness of him
who catches at straws. "And you — what did you say?"

" I said the information was false — a miserable invention.
And I repeat it. Harry, it is not true ? "

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

187

He made no reply for a few moments while, sobbing and
terrified, Louise clung to him.

" Harry," she said excitedly, '' why do you not speak ? "

" Don't talk to me," he said hoarsely, " I'm thinking."

" But, Harry, I laugh at Aunt Marguerite's follies about
descent and our degradation ; but it is your duty to make
a stand for our father's sake. Who has dared to accuse you
of all this ? "

" Don't talk to me," he said in an angry whisper, as he
ran to the window and listened, crossing the room directly
after to try the door.

Louise gazed at him in a horrified way, and her heart
sank down, down, as her brother's acts suggested the pos-
sibility of his guilt. Then, like a flash of light, a thought
irradiated her darkening soul, and she caught her brother's
arm.

"I know ! " she cried.

" You — you know ? "

" Yes, I see it all now ; and why this charge has been
made. It was Mr. Pradelle."

" Pradelle I "

" And that is why he left so suddenly. Harry, my poor
brother ! "

" Let Pradelle be," he said huskily. " I'm not going to
hide behind another man."

^'Oh; But, Harry!"

" Look here," he said uneasily ; " I want your help,
and you do nothing but talk."

" I will be silent ; but tell me it is not true."

" Do you w ant me to make matters worse by telling some
paltry lie ? " he said. " Yes ; it is true."

"Harry!"

" No ; not all true. I did not steal that money."

" Ah ! " ejaculated Louise ; and she reeled to her bed,
and would have fallen but for the post she grasped.

" I've no time to explain, but you must know. Yes ; I
did knock old Van Heldre down."

" Harry ! " she groaned.

" And Crampton saw me come away ; he has sent for
the London police ; and, unless I can get off, I shall be
taken and tried."

Louise literally tottered towards him.

*' No, no," he said angrily. " You are going to talk and

mmmum

WKm

iS8

T/^£ HAUTE NOBLESSE.

preach. You don't want to see me disgracing you all i y
being cast in gaol ? "

Disgracing them ! Louise's first thought was of Dune n
Leslie, and a pang of agony shot through her. Kow could
she ever look him in the face again ? A chill that seenicd
to paralyze shot through her. The hope that she had
nursed was cast out, and her brother's words seemea to
open out a future so desolate and blank that she turned
upon him angrily.

" Harry ! " she cried, " this is not — cannot be true."
He paid no heed to her words, but stood biting his nails,
evidently thinking, and at last he turned upon her like one
at bay, as she said, after a painful pause : ** You do not
answer. Am I to believe all this ? No, I cannot — will
not believe it. Harry. It cai't — it can't be true."

" Yes," he said, as if waking from a dream. ** One of
the lads would take me over in his lugger. St. Malo : that
would do. Louy, what money have you ? "

" Then it is true ? " she said.

" True? Yes ; it's true enough. '

" Then you — oh, Harry, for pity's sake — Harry ! "

She burst into a wild fit of sobbing.

" That's right," h<^ cried savagely. " I came to you for
help and you go into hysterics. There, unlock that door,
and get me something to eat, and while I'm enjoying
mvself, you can send Liza for the police,"

'" Harry ! "

" Then why don't you act like a sensible girl? Listen :
nobody must know that I have been here ; not even the
governor. I'm going to steal down to the harbour by-and-
by ; and I shall get Joe Lennen or Dick Paul to take me
over to France. If I stay here I shall be arrested, and
disgrace you all. There never was such an unlucky fellow
as I am. Here, once niore, what money have you ? "

" Very little, Harry," she said ; " about three sovereigns."

** Has aunt any? No; she must not know that I'm
here. Louy, you must let me have your watch."

''Yes, Harry," she said, as she stood before him cold,
and striving hard to master her emotion as a mute feeling
of despair attacked her.

'• And you'll help me, won't you ? "

"Yes, Harry," she said, in the same cold mechanical
way.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

189

" Let me have your chain and rings, and any otlicr
trinket that will fetcli money. Must have something to live
upon till this trouble has blown over. You see I am
penniless, I am not a thief. I shall soon get right again,
and you shall have all these things a dozen times over."
She suppressed a sigh. *' Be quick then — there's a good
girl. I've no time to waste."

Louise moved across the room to the drawers and took
'from the top a small rosewood box, which she placed upon
the table. Then taking her watch from her waist, she was
in the act of unfastening the chain, when there was the
sound of a closing door below, and her father's voice,
sounding loud and excited, as ?t called her by name.

CHAPTER XXVIIL

IN DEFENCE OF HIS YOUNG.

i
:! !

" Louise ! Where is Louise ? " The step on the stairs
sounded like thai of a younger man ; and as the door was
tried, PLarry had reached the window, from whence he was
about to climb, when he fancied he saw some one below,
and he hastily closed the casement, and drew back trem-
bling. •' Louise ! open this door."

" No, no," whispered Harry. " He must not know I am
here."

" Not know ? "

*'Am I to break this door?" was thundered from the
other side.

Harry glanced once more at the window. It was fancy.
No one was below now that he could see ; and he was in
the act of unfastening it when there was a crash, the door
flew open, and his father strode into the room. It did not
seem to be the same man, and Harry shrank from the
fierce, erect, angry figure which approached.

*' As I might have guessed. You coward ! So you
would strip your sister of what money and jewels she has,
and then escape ! " Harry stood before him silent and
with his head averted. " You did net counsel this flight,
Louise ? "

190

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

? '

i wh

" No, father," she said, in a low voice full of pain ; and
she looked from one to the other, as if mentally stunned,
and unable to realise the force of all that was taking place.

" I thought not. You abject, miserable wretch ! "

Harry started, and gazed half in fear, half in wonder, at
the stern, commanding figure before him.

'* It — it was to save you all from disgrace."

Vine burst into a aiscordant laugh.

" From disgrace — to save us from disgrace ? And 13
this part of your cliildish aunt's teaching ? "

" Father ! Pray ! " whispered Louise, rousing herself
and clinging to his arm.

" Silence, my child ! " he cried. '' I am not angry with
you. I blame myself. Weak and indulgent. Tolerating
that foolish woman's whims, that her old age might pass
peacefully away, I have allowed all her follies to go on ;
but I did not believe these seeds could strike so deep a
root. To save us from disgrace ! So this is being the
aristocratic gentleman of French descent ! The man who
would prefer death to dishonour — the man who scorns to
sully his hands by embarking in some honest trade !
And I, wrapped in my pursuits, riding my weak hobby,
have let things go on till they have ended thus ! "

" But, father, think ! Be merciful."

" Think ? I dare not, girl. Merciful ? No. He is no
longer my son. We must bear the disgrace as best we
can ; hide our shame elsewhere. You and I, father and
sister of a miserable convict, who in the pursuit of money
and title could stoop to rob."

" No, no, father ; not rob."

" Scoundrel ! don't speak or I may forget myself, and
strike you down as you struck down your benefactor, the
man who stretched out his hand to save you from the ruin
that dogged your heels."

*' It was a miserable accident, father. I did not steal."

*' Bah ! Lies come easily to such as you ; but I have no
words to waste, there is no time for that."

" No, father ; quick before it is too late," whispered
Louise. "Let him go; let him escape to France — to re-
pent, father. He is your son."

*' No. I disown him. And you counsel this — you,
girl ? "

" Yes, father, you will spare him," sobbed Louise ; " he is
my brother."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

191

" He has broken those ties ; neither son nor brother to
us, my child. He has blasted your future by branding
you as a convict's sister, and embittered the fev/ years left
to me, 50 that I would gladly end them now."

" Father 1 "

'' Hush, my child ! I am rightly punished for my weak-
ness. I hoped that he would change. I was not blind,
only patient, for I said that these follies would soon pass,
and now I am awakened to this. j\Iy son in the hands of
the police ! " he laughed in a wild, discordant tone. " Mon-
sieur le Comte des Vignes, I must have been mad."

" Go on ! " said Harry, fiercely. " Trample me down.
There, let me pass. Better in the hands of the police than
here."

*' No, no? " cried Louise excitedly. *' Father, he must
escape. It is one great horror, do not make it worse by
letting him go there."

" Worse, girl ? there is no worse ! " cried Vine, sternly.
"I thank my God that we are living in a land where stern,
good laws are pre-eminent, and where justice rules with un-
swerving hand. You know not what you say."

*' Yes, father — dearest father, help him to go and repent
the evil he has done."

"Go and repent? Yes, that is the only hope; br.t it
shall be as tlie honest repentant man, ready to acknow-
ledo^e and bear the punishment of his crime."

'^Father!" '

" Yes ; look at him — look at the base, cowering wretch,
ready to go and hide his face in any shelter to escape the
fate he has earned ! Look at his guilty conscience, brand-
ing him even now ! And you say, let him go 1 "

'• Yes, father. What could I say? "

'' Nothing ! " cried Harry, turning round, as the trampled
worm turns beneath the boot that crushes it into the earth.
"It is true ; I struck poor old Van Heldrc down; but
whatever I may have thought before, I did not go to steal
that money. I did not steal it. And now what do you
want me to do ? "

"Go; act as a . nm who claims such descent as ours
should do, in the country which opened to him its arms,
and whose laws he has transgressed. The police are
here from London. Go and give yourself up ; suffer
your punishment as one who would atone, and years

ill

«1t ■' '

192

T//£ HAUTE NOBLESSE,

hence in the future, when you are freed, come to me
and ask my pardon — kneeling humbly by my grave."

" Father ! "

" No more. The way is open now. Go at once, be-
fore you are dragged through the streets handcuffed
like some common felon. To save us from disgrace,
you say — that is the only way."

" He stood erect, with his eyes flashing, his brows,
and nostrils quivering, pointing to the door, while with
his left arm he suppoited Louise, whose face gazed
wildly into his, no mean representative of that Haute
Noblesse which had sought refuge here when persecution
drove them from their land.

" Father ! Harry i " cried Louise, but only the latter
spoke.

" Yes," he said, drawing himself up. " You are right,
I'll go."

He strode quickly toward the door; but before he
reached it, Liza threw it back.

"Miss Louise," she cried, "the police !"

With hasty strides the old man rushed to the door and
thrust it to.

" Oh ! " he gasped, and then after a pause, there was
one low, hoarse appeal to heaven for aid, " My God ! "

The adjuration spoke volumes, and for a few moments
the old man stood there as if in a catalyptic state. Then
a change came over him, his pale face flushed, the veins in
his forehead stood out and throbbed, and he dashed to his
son.

" Quick, Harry ! France ! "

As he spoke, Harry broke frorn him, and dashed to the
window, threw it open, and was about to spring out, but
he drew back. There was no fancy this time ; two police-
men could be dimly seen below.

" Too late, father," he said calmly.

" No. my boy ! this way, hush ! "

He snatched open the door, and a quick-looking, well-
knit man stood framed in the entry.

" Ah ! " he said sharply, as he fixed Harry with his eye,
" Mr. Harry Vine, I arrest you on a warrant. Robbery
and attempt to murder."

" No," roared the father frantically ; and he flung him-
self upon the officer. " Run, Harry, run ! "

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

'93

Louise stood clinging to the ironwork of her bedstead,
sick with horror, as a terrible struggle ensued. It only
lasted a few moments ; and as she saw her father and the
detective officer wrestling together, her brother clenched
his fists, set his teeth, and dashed at them.

" No, no ; run ! " roared the father in a voice she did
not know ; and in obedience, Harry dashed through the
doorway and was gone.

" You're mad, old man ! " cried the detective, tearing
himself free, drawing back, and then rushing towards the
door.

But with a wonderful display of activity and vigour, the
old naturalist sprang at him once more, and with clenched
fist struck him so fierce a blow full on the cheek, that the
num swerved sidewise, and would have fallen but for the
wall.

" When I come back ! " he roared savagely, as he recov-
ered himself, and, springing through the door, he bounded
down the stairs after Harry Vine, father and sister stagger-
ing to the landing just as the door across the hall swung
to with a heavy bang, and the sound of feet rapidly beating
the shingle rose loudly on the silence of the night.

:|*

CHAPTER XXIX.

ON HIS BEHALF.

" What have I done ? what have I done ? " groaned Vine.
"I might have forgiven him and let him escape, and then

Louise, Louise, my child, come with me. We must

find him and help."

Louise hurried bacK into her room to get hat and scarf,
and returned to the landing to find her father and Aunt
Margaret face to face.

" It is a judgment upon you, George — a judgment ! "
cried the old lady excitedly. " Yes ; you dragged the poor
boy down to that wretched life, and in his madness and
misery he made one bold stroke for freedom."

" Louise, my child, quick ! " cried Vine. " I cannot
answer her now. Quick ! get me away, or I shall say
words to her that I shall repent as long as I live."

194

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

I i

I 'fl

1^;

ill

'J-f : 3

b I

r 'j

** I say it is a judgment ! " cried Aunt Margaret. " Poor
boy ! if you had taken my advice "

The door closed. Tliey were out in the clear, slnrry
night, luirryiiig down the path toward the town, but Aiini
Margaret's words were ringing in Vine's cars. A judgment

Why ? What had he done ?

" Have 1 been to blame? Is she right? Have I been
to blame ? " he muttered, as tliey hurried down, the words
being the secret communings of his heart, but they were
loud enough for Louise to hear, and as she clung to his
arm she whispered emphatically —

'' No, father, no ! "

*' No ? Louise, what are you saying ? "

" That you have not been to blame. My dear, patient,
indulgent father."

"Lidulgent?" he said hoars«'ly, ''Yes; indulgent. I
have been ii dulgent, and yet heaven knows how I have
striven to make ou -s a, happy home for all."

*' And you have, father," sobbed Louise, '* till Harry
proved so wilful and went astray."

"Yes; went astray. But he must go, my child ; he
must not be taken. I have a little money with me, and
will send him more. I want to do that which is just and
right, but I could not bear to see him taken off to gaol."

Louise uttered a low moan as they hurried on down the
path.

"Where will he hide? where will he hide? " whispered
Vine excitedly. " He could not escape by the road, the
railway station is certain to be watched, and there is the
telegraph."

" Stop ! said Louise, holding one hand to her head, as
in the terrible confusion of conflicting thoughts she tried to
recall something her brother had said.

" Yes, I recollect now," she said. " He told me he
meant to escape across to France, and that he would ask
one of the fishermen to sail with him to St. Malo."

'• Plah ! yes. Then he will escape. Whom did he
say ? "

" I cannot recollect the name, and yet it is familiar."

" Try, my chiKI, try."

" I am trying hard, father," said Louise sadly, " but I
cannot recollect."

" Oh ! " groaned her father, as they hurried on down the
path, "for pity's sake, try, my child, try."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

195

" Ves, r ..Mncnibcr," slie cried :il last— " Paul."
' Dick Paul — the man who sailed with us to the rocks
near Scilly ? "

" Yes, yes ! "

" Hah ! then if he has escaped so far he will be there."

*' Do you know which is his collage ? "

" Yes, I know. Quick, girl, quick ! "

They almost ran down the rest of the way, each looking
excitedly about in the expectation of there being a hue
and cry, and of seeing the fugitive rush by, hunted by a
senseless crowd, eager to see him caught.

But all was perfectly still, the great stars shone down
on the sleepy place, the lights burned in windows here and
there, and as they reached a turn where the harbour lay
before them the light at the mouth shone out like a lurid,
fiery eye, staining the calm water with a patch of light,
which seemed weird and strange amidst the spangled
gU-ams reflected from the stars. Hardly a sound, till a
swing door was opened a short distance in front, and there
lloated out in harmony one of the West Country ditties the
fishermen loved to sing. The door swung to, and the
part-song became a murmur.

Vine gripped his daughter's hand with spasmodic
violence, but she did not wince. There was a pain, an
agony in her breast which neutralised all other, as she
hurried on by her father's side, thinking now of her erring
brother, now of Duncan Leslie. That dream, that growing
love which she had tremblingly avowed to herself she felt
for the frank, manly young mi;"ie-owner, was over, was
crushed out, with all its bright-hued hopes of happiness ;
but he had said he loved her, and offered his aid. Why
v^as he not there now to help, when her brother was in
such peril ? Why was he not there?

The answer came like a dull blow. She had reviled him,
insulted him, and driven him awav. Then her heart
replied : He loves me, he will forgive my hasty words,
and will save my brother if I humble myself and ask.

She started back to the reality from what seemed a
dream, as her father hurried on along by a row of ill-built,
rugged cottages on the cliff.

"It is in one of these," he said huskily, " but I cannot
recall which."

As he hesitated one of the doors was opened, and a
great, burly merman appeared, pipe in mouth.

l\\

^ i .

196

THE HAUTE NO n LESS E.

If m

I m

' .1

" Dick Paul's," he said, in answer to a question, 'Mlrst
door fiirdcr on. Fine night, mnster."

" Ves, yes ; liumk you, thank you," cried Vine hastily.

** But he arn't at home."

" What ? "

" Him and four more went out at sundown to shoot their
nets."

Vine uttered a low groan.

" Good night ! " said the man, and he moved off.

*' Stop ! " cried Vine, and the man's heavy boots ceased
to clatter on the rugged pebbles with which the way was
paved.

''Call me, Master Vine !'

'* Ves. You know me ?

"Know you? Ay, and the young lady too. 'J.iza
Perrow's Uncle Bob. Didn't I take you 'long the coast
one day ? "

" Yes, yes, of course," said Vine hastily. " Look here,
my man ; you have a boat."

" Third share master, just going out now. My mates
are waiting yonder."

" In the harbour?"

" Ay. That's their lantern."

" Look here, Perrow," said Vine excitedly, as he held
the man tightly by the arm, " you are going fishing ? "

" Going to have a try, master."

" And you will perhaps earn a pound a-piece."

" If we are lucky, P'r'aps naught."

"Perrow," whispered the old man, with his lips close to
the man's face, " will you do me a service — a great
service ? "

" Sarvice, sir? — Ay, sure I will."

" Then look here. Your boat would sail across to
France ? "

" To France ? " said the great bluff fellow, with a
chuckle. " Why didn't some of our mates sail to Spain in
a lugger a foot shorter than ours, and not so noo a boot !
France, ay, or Spain either."

" Then look here ; take a passenger over for me to-
night ; and I'll give you fifty pounds."

" Fifty pounds, Master Vine ? "

" Yes. Be ready ; take him safely over, and bring me
back word from him that he's safe, and I'll pay you a
hundred."

Tin: HAUTK xohlesse.

197

" Win you sliakc hands on tliat, master ? "

"Will you do il?"

"Do it for you, Master \'ine? Why, sir, bless you,
we'd ha' done il for five. iUit if you tempt poor men \vi'

a big lumj) o' money like that Do it ? 1 should

think we will."

" But your partners ?" said Louise excitedly.

*' Never y(ni mind about them, miss. I'm cap'n of (*ur
boat. ^Vhere's our ])asserigcr? I. or, miss, don't do that."

I'he man started, for Louise had caught his rough liand
and kissed it.

"I'll soon bring him to you," said the old man, with his
voice trembling ; " but look here, my man — you must ask
no questions, you will not be put off, you will not refuse at
the last moment ? "

" Look here. Master Vine, sir," said the man stolidly,
" I arn't a fool. Hundred ptjund's a lot o' money, and of
course it's to smuggle some one away on the (juiet. Well,
so be it."

" Hah ! " ejaculated Vine.

" It's to 'blige you as I've knowd for a kind-hearted gent
these ever so many years, though there wrs that bit o'
trouble 'bout my brother's ^ass, as I don't believe took
that there money.

" No, no, she was innocent," cried Louise.

" Thanks for that, miss, and say, has young Master

Harry been up to some game ? "

There was no reply.

'' Never mind. Don't you speak without you like,
Master Vine, sir. Yonder's our boot, aiid I'll go down to
her, and she shall lie off just outside, and I'll wait in our
little punt down by the harbour steps. Will that do ? "

" Yes ; and you will trust me to pay you a hundred
pounds ? "

" Trust you 1 "

The man uttered a low chuckle.

" How long will he be, master? "

" I don't know. Wait till he comes."

" Master Harry ? " whispered the man.

"Yes."

" All right, sir. You trust mc. I'll trust you. Night,
miss. I'll wait there if it's a week."

" Hah ! " ejaculated Vine, as the man's heavy step went

ao«fe"

198

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

on before tlicm. " 1 here is a way of escape for him. I am
a fLither, and what 1 ought to do by my friend pales before
that. Now to find him, my child, to find him. He fnust
escape."

Louise clung to his arm, and they stood there on the
cliff jjath listening, and each mentally asking the question,
what to do ?

" If I could oniy get the faintest clue of his move-
ments,'' muttered Vine, " Louise, my child, can you not
suggest sometliing?"

She did not answer, for a terrible dread was upon her
now. Her brother might have been taken ; and if so,
there was no need to hesitate as to the way to go.

As if the same thoughts had impressed him, Vine
suddenly exclaimed,

" No, no, they would not have taken him. The man
was a stranger, and LLirry would be too quick."

For the next hour they hurried here and there, passing
Van Hcldre's house, where a dim light in the window
showed where the injured man lay. There was a vague
kind of feeling that sooner or later they would meet
Harry, but the minutes glided slowly by, and all was still.

Out beyond the harbour light the faint gleam of a lan-
tern could be s"en, showMig that Bob Perrow had kept
faith with them, and tliat the lugger was swinging in the
rapid current, fast to one of the many buoys used l^y the
fishermen in fine weadier. But there was no sign or
sound appa-ent ; and with their hearts, sinking beneath
the impression that Harry had been taken, and yet not
daring to go a^^d ask, father and daughter still wandered to
and fro along the various streets of the little town.

*' Can he have taken boat and gone ? " whispered Vine
at last.

" No," said Louise, " there would not have been time,
and we should have seen the lights had a boat gone out."

*' George ! "

Two figures suddenly appeared out of the darkness, and
stop])ed before them.

" Luke ? You here ? "

" Yes ; have you seen him ? "

*' No ; but is — is he — "

** No, islr. Vine," said Leslie quickly. *' I have been
up to the station twice."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

199

Sir

>»

*' For heaven's sake don't speak to me like that, Mr.
Vine," cried Leslie. '* I know everything, and I am work-
ing Tor him as I would for my ovn brother."

" Yes, it's all right, George," said Uncle Lmce, with his
voice softening a little. "Leslie's ?^ good fellow. Look
here \ we must get the young dog away. Leslie has
chartered a fast boat, and she lies in the head oi" the har-
bour ready."

" Ah ! "

It was an involuntary ejaculation from Louise.

'' We'll have him taken across the Channel if we can
find him. Where can he be hidden ? "

" We have been twice on to your house, Mr. Vine."
said Leslie, wlio kept right away from Louise, and out of
delicacy seemed to ignore her presence, but sjjoke so that
she could hear every word. " I have three of my miners
on the look-out — men I can trust, and law or no law, we
must save him from arrest."

" Heaven bless you, Mr. Leslie. Forgive "

" Hush, sir. There is no time for words. The men
from London with our own police are searching in every
direction. He got right away, and he is hiding some-
where, for he certainly would not take to the hill.j or the
road, and it would be madness to try the rail."

" Yes," said Uncle Luke. " He's safe to make for the
sea, and so get over yonder. There's a boat lying off
though, and Fm afraid that's keeping him back. The
police have that outside to stop him."

" No ; that is a boat I have chartered, Luke, waiting to
save my poor boy."

" Then before many hours are gone he'll be down by the
harbour, that's my impression," said Uncle Luke. " Con-
found you, George, why did you ever have a boy ? "

George Vine drew a long breath and remained silent.

*' If you will allow me, gentlemen," said Leslie, " I think
we ought not to stay here like this. The poor fellow will
not know what precautions his friends have taken, and
some one ought to be on the look-out to give him warning
whenever he comes down to the harbour."

" Yes ; that's true."

" Then if I may advise, T should suggest, sir, that you
patrol this side lo and fro, where you must see him if he

20O

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

comes down to make for the west point ; I'll cross over
and watch the east pier, and if Mr. Luke Vine here will
stop about the head of the harbour, we shall have three
chances of seeing him instead of one."

Louise pressed her hand to her throbbing heart, as she
listened to these words, and in spite of her agony of spirits,
noted how Leslie avoided speaking to her, devoting himself
solely to the task of helping her brother; and as she felt
thisj and saw that in futi^re they could be nothing more
than the most distant fri.mds, a suffocating feeling of misery
seemed to come over her, and she longed to hurry away,
and sob to relieve her overcharged breast.

" Leslie's right," said Uncle Luke, in a decisive way.
" Let's separate at once. And look here, whoever sees
him is to act, give him some money, and get him off at
once. He must go. The trouble's bad enough now, it
would be worse if he were taken, and it's the last thing
Van Hcldre would do, hand him to the police. Leslie ! "

He held up his hand, but th.e steps he heard were only
those of some fishermen noina; home from the river.

" Now, tlien, let's act ; and fo' goodness' sake, let's get
the young idiot away, for I warn you all, if that boy's taken
there'll be fiir worse trouble than you know of now."

''Uncle Luke !" cried Louise piteously.

" Can't help it, my dear. There will, for I shall end a
respectable life by killing old Crampton and being hung.
Come along, Leslie."

The little party separated without a word, and Louise
and her father stood listening till the steps of their late
companions died away.

CHAPTER XXX.

IN THE queen's NAME.

As they stood together at the lower end of the rocky
point listening nnd waiting, it seemed to Louise Vine as if
she were nbout to be an actor in some terrible scene.

Vine muttered a few words ncAv and then, but they were
inaudible to his child, who clung to his arm as he walked

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

20 1

untiringly to and fro, watcliing the harbour and tlic way
back into the town, wliile when he ])aused it was to fix his
eyes upon the dimly-socn lantern of the lugger lying out
beyond the point. The portion of their walk nearest the
town was well kept and roughly paved with great slabs of
granite, in which were here and there great rings for moor-
ing purposes, while at some distance apart were prcj-cting
masses roughly hewn into posts. But as the distance from
the town increased and the harbour widened, tlie jutting
point was almost as if it had been formed by nature, and
the footing was difficult, even dangerous at times.

But in his excitement Vine did not heed this, going on
and on regardless of the difficulties, and Louise unmur-
muringly walked or at times climbed along, till they were
vight out at the e/.treme point where, some feet below
them, the water rushed and gurgled in and out of the
crevices with terrible gasping noises, such as might be
made by hungry sea monsters thronging round to seize
them if either of them should make a slip.

Here Vine paused again and again to watch the lantern
in the lugger, and listen for the rattle of oars in the
rowlocks, the oars of the boat conveying his son to the
men who would at once hoist the sails and bear him away
to a place of safety. But the dim light of the horn lantern
rose and fell, there was no rattle of oars, not even the
murmur of a voice ; nothing but the sucking, gasping
noises at their feet, as the tide swirled by like the race of
waters from some huge mill.

Louise clung more tightly to her father's arm, as he
stood again and again where she had often from a rock
hehind watched her uncle deftly throwing out his line to
capture some silvery-sided bass or a mackerel, glowing
with all the glories of the sea at sun-rise.

" If he should slip," she said to herself, as she tightened
her grasp of her father's thin arm, '' if he should slip ! "
and she shuddered as she gazed down into the deep, black
rushing water, where the star reflections were all broken
up and sparkled deep down as if the current were charged
with gold dust, swirling and eddying by. Then she started
as her father spoke aloud to himself.

" No, no, no ! " he murmured. Then sharply, " Come,
let us get back."

Louise crept along by him in silence, her heart giving

•£•« -i,i(01il»,. .Wjfcfh,,.

202

T//£ HAUTE NOBLESSE.

m
•If,

one violent leap, as Vine slipped once on the spray-wet
rocks, but recovered himself and went on without a "word.
Again and again, she suffered that terrible catching of the
breath, as her father slipped, caught his foot in- some
inequality, or would, but for her guidance, have stumbled
over some projecting rock post and been thrown into the
harbour. For as he walked on, his eyes were constantly
searching the dark surface as he listened intently for some
token of the escaping man.

But all was still as they neared the town, still with the
silence of death. No one could have told that there were
watchers by the ferry, where a rough boat was used for
crossing from side to side of the harbour ; that two boats
were waiting, and that Duncan Leslie was patrolling the
short arm of granite masonry that ran down to the tower-
like building were the harbour lantern burned.

" Hist ! " w hispered Louise, for there was a step some
little distance away, but it ceased, and as she looked in its
direction, the cliffs seemed to tower up behind the town
till a black, jagged ridge cut the starry sky.

'' Let's go back./' said her father, huskily. '' I fancied I
heard a boat stealing along the harbour ; we cannot see
the lugger light from here."

'^ George ! " came from out of the darkness ahead.

" Yes, Luke ! " was whispered back sharply, and the old
man came up.

" Seen anything of him ? "

" No. Have you ? "

" Not a sign. I sent one of the fishermen up to the
police to see what he could find out, and "

" Uncle ! " panted out Louise, as she left her father to
cling to the old man.

*" Poor little lassie ! poor little lassie ! " he said tenderly,
as he took her and patted her head. " No news, and that's
good news. They haven't got him, but they're all out on
the watch : the man from London and our dunderheads.
All on the watch, and I fancy they're on the look-out close
here somewhere, and that's what keeps him back."

Louise uttered a low moan.

"Ah, it's bad for you, my dear," said Uncle Luke,
whose manner seemed quite changed. *' You come with
me, and let me take you home. We don't want mother
trouble on our hands."

" No, no," she said firmly, " I cannot leave him."

THE HAUTE XOBIESSE.

203

'' But you will be ill, child."

" I cannot leave him, uncle," she said again ; and going
back to her father, she locked her fingers about his arm.

" Hi ! hoi ! look out ! " came from a distance ; and it
was answered directly by a voice not a hundred yards
away.

A thrill of excitement shot through the little group as
they heard now the tramj) of feet.

'•' I knew it," whis])ered Uncle Luke. ^^ He's making
for the harbour now."

'' Ah ! " gasped Vine^ as he almost dragged Louise over
the rugged stones.

" Stop where you arc," said Uncle Luke, excitedly ; and
he placed something to his lips and gave a low shrill whistle.

It was answered instantly from the other side of the
harbour.

^' Leslie's on the look-out. Yes, and the men with the
boat/' he whispered^ excitedly, as another low whistle was
heard.

Then there was a few moment's silence as if people were
listening, followed by steps once more, and a quick voice
exclaimed fror/ out of the darkness :

'' Seen him ?

Neither of the group answered, and a man stepped up
to them and Hashed the light of a lantern quickly over them
before closing it again.

'' That's you, is it? " he said. "^ I'll have a word with
you by-and-by ; but look here, I call upon you two men in
the Queen's name to help me to t ike him. If you help
him to get away, it's felony, so you may take the con-
sequences. You haven't got to do with your local police
now."

The man turned away and walked swiftly back toward
the town^ the darkness seeming to swallow him up. He
paused for a few moments at the edge of the harbour^ to
throw the light of his lantern across the water.

" The London man," said Uncle Luke, unconcernedly.
Well, God save the Queen, but I'm sure she don't want
us to help to capture our poor boy."

«■

204

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

CHAPTER XXXI.

** OH ! ABSALOM, MY SON, MY SON."

Harry Vine had but one thought as he dashed out of his

father's house, and that was to escape — far away to some
other country where neither he nor his crime were known —
to some place where, with the slate of his past life wiped
clean, he might begin anew, and endeavour to show to his
father, to his sister, perhaps to Madelaine Van Heldre, that
he was not all bad. How he would try, he told himself.
Only let him get aboard one of the fishing luggers, and
after confiding in some one or other of his old friends, the
bluff fishermen who had often given him a sail or a day's
fishing, beg of him to take him across to Jersey or St. Malo ;
anywhere, so as to avoid the terrible exposure of the law
— anywhere to be free.

" I'd sooner die tlian be taken," he said to himself as he
sped on downward at a rapid rate.

''The way to the harbour seemed clear, and, though the
officer was pursuing him, Harry had the advantage of the
darkness, and the local knowledge of the intricate ways of
the little town, so that he felt no fear of being able to reach
the harbour and some boat. He was reckoning without'
his host. His host, or would-be host, was the detective
sergeant who had gone about his business in a business-
like manner, so that when Harry Vine was congratulating
himself upon the ease with which he was able to escape,
one of the local policeman started from his post right in
the fugitive's way, nearly succeeding in catching him by
the arm, an attention Harry avoided by doubling down
one of the little alleys of the place. Over and over again
he tried to steal down to the harbour, but so sure as he
left his hiding place in one of the dark lanes or among the
fishermen's stores he heard steps before him, and with the
feeling that the whole town had now risen up against him,
and that the first person he encountered would seize and
hold him until the arrival of the police, he crept back,

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

205

bathed with cold perspiration, to wait what seemed to be
an interminable time before he ventured again.

His last hiding-place was a wooden shed not far from
the water-side — a place of old ropes and sails, and with a
loft stored full of carefully dried nets, put away till the
shoals of fish for which they were needed visited the shore.
Here in profound ignorance of what had been done on his
behalf, he threw himself down on a heap of tarred canvas
to try and devise some certain means of escape. He had
a vague intention of getting the fishermen to help him;
but after thinking of several, he could not decide which of
the sturdy fellows would stand by such a culprit as he.
A?ul as he lay there the bitter regrets for the past began
to attack him.

" Louise — sister," he muttered to himself. " 1 must have
been mad. And I lie here groaning like the coward I am,"
lie said fiercely, as, thrusting back all thoughts of the past
with the intention of beginning afresh, he stole out once
more into the dark night, meaning to get to the harbour,
and, failing a better means, to take some small sailing-boat,
and to trust to his own skill to get safely across.

The place was far more ({uiet now ; and, avoiding the
larger lanes, he threaded his way through passage after
])assagc among the net-stores and boat-houses till he
reached the main street, along which he was walking
noiselessly when a heavy regular pace ahead checked him,
and, turning shortly round, he made for the first narrow
back lane, reached it, and turned trembling as he recog-
nized that it was the familiar path leading by the back of
Van Heldre's, the way he knew so well.

Hurrying on, he had nearly reached the bottom, wlien
he became aware of the fiict that there was a policeman
waiting. He turned sharply back, after nearly walking
into the arms of one of his enemies, and was nearly at the
top once more, when he found that the man whom he had
tried to avoid was there too waiting.

" I'm caught," he said bitterly, as he paused midway.
" Shall I dash for libertv? No," he said bitterly ; " better
give up."

He raised his hand to guide himself silently along, when
he shivereu, for it touched a gate which yielded, and as
the steps advanced from front and rear, he stepped down.
Fate in her irony had decided that, to avoid arrest, he

■^\

f >i

1 ;i'

mmm

W M "

mBSBB

1^ r

206

7///^ irAUTR NOBLESSE,

should take refuge in the premises of the man he had
injured. The steps came nearer, and trembling with
horror the fugitive glanced upward to sec that two windows
were illumined, and there was light enough to show that
the door leading into the corridor was open. He shrank
from it, and was then driven to enter and stand inside,
listening, for the steps stopped outside, the door yielded,
and a voice said :

"Couldn't have been him. He wouldn't have gone
there."

The gate swung gently to, and the fugitive began to
breathe more freely, for after a low whispered conversation,
it was evident that the watchers were about to separate,
when there was a loud cough which Harry knew only too
well ; and to his horror he saw faintly in at the end of the
passage his figure more plain by a light in the hall, the
short stooping figure of Crampton coming towards him.
To have stepped out into the yard would have been into
the light, where the old man must have seen him ; and,
obeying his first instinct, Harry crouched down, and as
Cramj^ton advanced, backed slowly along the corridor till
farther progress was stayed by the outer door of the office.
Harry sank down in the corner, a dark shapeless heap
to any one who had approached, and with heart throbbing,
he waited.

" He is coming into the ofiice," he thought.

But as the old man reached the opening into the yard he
paused. There was a faint rustling, then a flash and a
match flared out illuminating the old clerk's stern coun-
tenance, and it seemed as the tiny splint burned that dis-
covery must take place now. But Crampton was intent
upon the business which had brought him there. He had
stolen out from his self-appointed task of watching over
the house to have his nightly pipe, and for fully an hour,
Harry Vine crouched in the corner by the office door, see-
ing over and over again the horrors of the past, and
trembling as he waited for the fresh discovery, while old
Crampton softly paced the little yard, smoking pipe after
pipe.

That hour seemed as if it would never end, and at last
in despair Harry was about to rise, when he heard Made-
line's voice, gently calling to the old man.

" Hah ! " he said sofdy ; "a bad habit, Miss Madelaine,
but it seems to soothe me now."

The iiautk xobi.ksse.

207

Would he fasten tlic door and gate, and complete the
horror of Harry's position by makin.^ him a prisoner?
The youn-i man crouched there trem])ling, for Crampton
rccrossed the yard, and there was the sound of two l)olts
hcing shot. Then he regained the glass door, and was
al)OUt to close that.

" No," said Madelaine softly ; *' the night is so hot.
Leave that open, Mr. Crampton."

"Yes, my dear; yes, my dear," sighed the old man. '' I
shall be in the little room, and no one is likely to come
here now."

Gone at last, a^d trembling so in his wild excitement
that he could haraiy stir, Harry Vine literally crept along
tlic corridor, rose up and ran across the yard with the
horrible sensation that the old clerk's hand was about to
descend upon his shoulder. The two bolts were shot back
widi a loud snap, the gate was flung open ; and, reckless
now, he dashed out and down the narrow lane.

" He could bear no more," he said. *' The harbour and
a boat." He now ran rapidly, determined to end the
terrible suspense, and for the first few moments, he felt
that his task would be easy ; then he heard a warning
shout, and in his dread took refuge in the first alley lead-
ing down to the harbour.

Steps passed, and he emerged at the lower end, gained
the main street by returning through another of the alleys
by which, after the fashion of Yarmouth, the little town
was scored.

" Five minutes will take me there now," he panted ; and,
forcing himself to walk, he was hurrying on when a shout
told him that his enemies were well upon the alert. With
the horrible sense of being hunted, he dashed on, blindly
now, reckless as to which way he went, so long as he
reached the water side. As he ran, he was about to strike
down to the left where the landing steps lay; and had he
reached them there was a boat and men waiting, but the
London detective had discovered that and was on the
alert.

Harry almost ran into his arms, but with a cry of rage
he doubled back and ran for the shore, where he might set
pursuit at defiance hy hiding in the rocks below the cliff.
But another man sprang up in his way, and in his despair
he ran off to his left again, right along the great pier,
towards the point.

208

THE IIAUTl'. NOBLESSE.

u We've got liim now," slioutcd a v(jic:c behind as Harry
rushed out, just conscious of w sluitk as lie bruslied by a
group of figures, liardly seen in ihe darkness. He heard,
too, some confused words in which '' l)oal " and "■ escaj c "
seemed to be mingled. lUit in his excitement he could
only think of those behind, as there came the patter of his
pursuers' feet on the rough stone:>.

There was a shrill whistle from the other side of the
harbour, followed by a hail, and the splash of oars in the
darkness, while a low " ahoy ! " came from off the jjoint.

"Yes," muttered the officer between his teeth, "you're
a nice party down here, but I've got my man."

What followed was the work of moments. Harry ran
on till the rugged nature of the point compelled him to
walk, then step cautiously from rock to rock. The har-
bour was on one side, the tide rushing in on the other;
before him the end of the point, with its deep water and
eddying currents, wdnch no swimmer could stem, and
behind him the London officer with the local police close
up.

There was a boat, too, in the harbour, and the fugitive
had heard the whistle, and cries. He saw the light of the
lugger out ahead, and to him, in his mad horror of capture,
they meant enemies — enemies on every hand.

And so he reached the extreme point, where, peering
wildly about, like some lunited creature seeking a way ol
escape, he turned at bay.

" There, sir, the game's up," cried the ofiicer. " You've
made a good fight of it, so now give in."

"Keep back!" roared Harry hoarsely. And he
stooped and felt a'oout for a loose piece of rock where
every scrap had been washed aw\ay.

" Will you give in ? " cried the officer.

" Keep back ! " cried Harry again, in a tone so fierce
that for a moment the officer paused.

There was another whistle from across the harbour, a
shout and a hail out of the darkness, but nothing save the
dim lantern light could be seen.

" Now then, you two," said the officer decidedly,
" back me up."

There was a faint click as he drew something from his
pocket, and without hesitation stepped boldly over the
few leet which separated him from Harrv Vine.

Tin-: IIACTK XOIU.I'.SSE,

209

Panting, half wild, hearing the whisllcs, the cries, and
still divining notliing bnt that there were enemies on
ever;,' lumd, the yo'.ing man uttered a liDnrsc cry as the
detective caught at his hreast. Widione well-aimed blow
he struck out, sent the nian st;iggiTing back, and then, as
those who liad watcr.ed a:ul wailed came panting up, he
turned qiiickly, stepjjcd to the very edge, raised his hands
and ])l;mged into tlie rushing tide.

" Harry ! my son ! " rang out on the darkness of the
night.

But there was no ansv/er. The black water seemed to
tiash with myriad points of light and then ran, hissing and
rushing in a contending current, out to sea.

CHAPTER XXXH.

*• THE LORT) CAVE, AXD "

'' Boat ahoy ! Whoever you are — this way — boat ! "

'"Ahoy!" came back from three quarters — from two
different points in the harbour, and from out to sea.

Then came another whistle from far back on the othe'*
side of the harbour, and in a shrill voice from between his
hands Uncle Luke yelled :

" Leslie, another boat, man, for the lOve of lieaven !"

" Here ! you there, sir ! the nearest boat — quick, pull 1 " .
roared the detective in stentorian tones. " Have you no
light?"

" Ay, ay," came back ; and a lantern that had been
hidden under a tarpaulin coat shone out, dimly showing the
boat's whereabouts.

" That's right ; pull, my lads, oii here. Man overboard
off the rocks. This way."

An order was given in the boat, and her course was
altered.

"No, no," cried the officer; "this way, my lads, this
way."

"We know wdiat we're about," came back.

"Yes, yes; they know," said Uncle Luke, hoarsely.
" Let them be ; the current sets the way they've taken.
He's right out there by now."

210

THE IIAUTE NO n I. ESSE.

The old man's arm was dimly seen i)()inling seawards,
but the detective was not convinced.

" It's a trick to tlirow me on tlie wrong scent," he said
excitedly. "Here, you" — to one of the local police —
" why don't you speak ? "

" Mr. Luke Vine's rif,'ht, sir ; he knows the set o' the
tide. 'I'he i)Oor lad's swept ri^^ht nut yonder long ago, and
Lord ha' mercy upon liim, poor chap. They'll never pick
him uj)."

" Can you see him? " roared the officer, using his hands
as a speaking trumpet.

There was no reply ; but the lantern could be seen rising
and falling now, as the little craft began to reach the swell
at the harbour bar.

Then there was a hail out of the harbour, as the second
boat came along, and five minutes nftcr the rai)id beat of
oars told of the coming of another boat.

" Ahoy, lad ! this way," rose from the boat with the
lantern.

" Whose boat's that ? " said the detective, quickly.

" Dunno," replied the nearest policeman.

** They'll pick him u{). and he'll escape after all.
Confound it ! Here, hoi ! you in that boat. In the
Queen's name, stoj) and take me aboard."

" They won't pick him up," said the nearest policeman
solemnly. " You don't know this coast."

There was a low groan from a figure crouching upon its
' knees, and supporting a woman's head, happily insensible
to what was passing around.

"George, lad," whispered Uncle Luke, ''for the poor
girl's sake, let's get her home. George ! don't you hear
me. George! It is I — Luke."

There was no reply, and the excitement increased as a
swift boat now neared the end of the point.

*' Where is he ? Is he swimminuj for the boat ? " cried a
voice, hardly recognisable in its hoarse excitement for that
of Duncan Leslie.

** He jumped off, Mr. Leslie, sir," shouted one of the
policemen.

" Row, my lads. Pull ! " shouted Leslie ; " right out."

" No, no," roared the detective ; " take me aboard. In
the Queen's name, stop ! "

"Pull," cried Leslie to the men; and then turning to the

Till': riAr'TE xoni.r.ssE.

2It

detective, '' while wc stopped to take you the man would
drown, and you couldn't get aboard at this time of the
tide."

"lies quite right," said the i)oliceman who had last
spoken. " It's risky at any time ; it would be madness
nf)W."

The detective stamped, as in a weird, strange way the
voice kept coming from out of the darkness, where two
dim stars could be seen, as the lanterns v*'cre visible from
time to time ; and now Leslie's voice followed the others,
as he shouted :

'^This way. Vine, this way. Hail, man! Why don't
you hail?"

" Is this i)art of the trick to get him away ? " whispered
the detective to one of his men.

The man made no reply, and his silence was more
j)rcgnant than any words he could have s])oken.

" j'ut they'll pick him up," he whispered, now impressed
by the other's manner.

•' Look out yonder," said the policeman, a native of the
place ; '^ is it likely they'll find him there ? "

" 1 Lib ! " ejaculated the detective.

'^ And there's no such current anywhere for miles along
the coast as runs off here."

" Hah ! " ejaculated the man again, as he stood now
watching the lights, one of which kept growing more dis-
tant, while the* hails somehow seemed to be more faint
and wild, and at last to resemble the despairing cries of
drowning men.

" Listen," whispered the detective in an awe-stricken
tone, as he strove to pierce the darkness out to sea.

" It was Master Leslie, that," said the second police-
man ; " I know his hail."

Just then there was a wild hysterical fit of sobbing,
and George Vine rose slowly from his knees, and stag-
gered towards the group.

" Luke ! " he cried, in a half stunned, helpless way,
" Luke you know Where are you ? Luke I "

Here, Geon^c," said Uncle Luke sadly, for he had
knelt down in the place his brother had occupied the mo-
ment before.

'• You know the currents. Will they Will he "

He faltered ar.d paused, waiting his brother's reply,

212

77/75: HAUTE NOBLESSE.

a si

31.1

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and the three officers of the law shuddered, as, after a few
minutes' silence, broken only by a groan from the kneel-
ing man, George Vine cried in a piteous voice that sound-
ed wild and thrilling in the solemn darkness of the night :

*' God help me ! Oh, my son, my son ! "

" Quick, mind ! Good heavens, sir ! Another step
and "

The detective had caught the stricken father as he
tottered and would have 'alien headlong into the tide,
while, as he and another of the men helped him back to
where Louise still lay, he was insensible to whai passed
around.

But still the dim lights could be seen growing more and
more distant, and each hail sounded more faint, as the
occupants of the boats called to each other, and then to
him they sought, while, after each shout, it seemed to
those who stood straining their eyes at the end of the pier,
that there was an answering cry away to their left ; btit it
was only the faint echo repeating the call from the face of
the stupendous cliffs behind the town.

" Why don't they come back here and search ? " cried
the officer angrily.

" What for ? " said a voice at his elbow ; and he turned
to see dimly the shrunken, haggard face of Uncle I-ukc.

"What for?" retorted the officer. "He may have
swrm in the other direction."

" So might tlic world have rolled in the other direction
and the sun rise to-morrow in the west," said the old man
angrily. " >io swimmer could stem that current."

" But why have they gone so far ? "

" They have gone where the current took them," said
Uncle Luke, coldly. " Want the help of your men to get
these poor creatures home."

The detective made no reply, but stood gazing out to
sea and listening intently. Then turning to his men —

" One of you keep watch here in casv"; they try to land
with him. You come with me."

The two policemen followed his instructions, one taking
his place at the extreme end of the point, the other follow-
ing just as voices were heard, and a group of fishermen,
who had been awakened to the fret that there v/as some-
thing wrong, came down the rocky breakwater.

" Here, some of you, I want a boat^a swift boat, and
four men to pull. Ah, you ! "

THE IIAUTK xXOJU.ESSE.

2'3

This to a couple of the coastguard who had put in au
appearance, and after a few hurried words one party went
toward the head of the breakwater, wiiile another, full of
sympathy for the Vines, went on to the end of the point.

There was plenty of willing help, but George Vine had
now recovered from his swoon, and rose up to refuse all
offers of assistance.

" No, Luke," he said more firmly now ; " J. must stay."

" But our child, Louise? "

*' She must st.ay with me."

Louise had risen to her feet, as he spoke, and clung to
his arm in mute acquiescence ; and once more they stood
watching the star-spangled sea.

Ten minutes later a well-manned boat passed out of tlie
harbour, with the detective officer in her bows and a cou-
ple of the strongest lights they could obtain.

Just as this boat came abreast of the point the rowing
ceased, and a brilliant glare suddenly flashed out as the
officer held aloft a blue signal light ; and while the boat
^vas forced slowly along he carefully scanned the rocks, in
the expectation of seeing his quarry clinging somewhere to
their face.

The vivid light illumined the group upon the i)oint,
and the water flashed and sparkled as it ran eddying l-)y,
while from time to time a gleaming drop of golden fire
dropped with a sharp hissing explosion into the water,
and a silvery grey cloud of smoke gathered overhead.

The officer stayed till the blue light had burned out, and
then tossing the wooden handle into the water, he gave his
orders to the men to row on out toward the other boats.

The transition from brilliant light to utter darkness was
startling as it was sudden ; and as the watchers followed
the dim looking lanterns, they saw that about a mile out
they had paused.

George Vine uttered a gasping sigh, and his child clung
to him as if both realised the meaning of that halt. But
they were wrong, for when the men in the detective's boat
had ceased rowing, it was because they were close abreast
of the lugger, whose crew had hailed them.

" Got him?"

" No. Is he aboard your boat ? "

Without waiting for an answer, the detective and his
men boarded the lugger, and, to the disgust of her crew,
searched from end to end.

^ '

214

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

" Lucky for you, my lads, that he is not here," said the
officer.

" Unhicky for him he arn't," said one of the men. " If
he had been we shouldn't have had you aboard to-night."

" What do you mean ? "

** Only that we should have been miles away by now,"

" Do you think either of tlie other boats have picked him
up?"

" Go and ask 'em," said another of the men sulkily.

" No, sir," said one of the coastguard, " they haven't
picked him up."

" Back ! " said the detective shortly ; and, as .soon as
they were in the boat, he gave orders for them to row
towards the faint light they could see right away east.
They were not long in coming abreast, for the boat was
returning.

" Got him ? " was shouted.

" No."

" Then why did you make the signal ? "

The detective officer was a clever man, but it had not
occurred to him that the blue light he had obtained frc m
the coastguard station and burned would act as a recall.
But so it was, and before long the second boat was reached,
and that which contained Duncan Leslie came up, the latter
uttering an angry expostulation at being brought backfiom
his search.

"It's no good, Mr. Leslie, sir," said the fisherman who
had made the bargain v.'itli Vine,

*' No good ? " cried I^eslie angrily. " You mean you're
tired, and have not the manhood to continue the search."

'' No, sir, I don't," said the man quietly. '' I mean I
know this coast as well as most men. I'll go on r^earching
everywhere you like ; but I don't think the poor lad can
be alive."

" Ay, ay, that's right, mate," growled two others of hib
fellows.

''He was a great swimmer," continued the man sadly;
*' but it's my belief he never come uj) again."

" Why do you say that ? " cried the detective from his
boat, as the four hung clustered together, a singular-looking
meeting out there on the dark sea by lantern light.

"Why do I say that? Why 'caiise he hever hailed any
on US who knew him, and was ready to take him aboard.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

2IS

Don't matter how good a swimmer a man is, he'd be glad
of a hand out on a dark night, and with the tide running
so gashly strong.''

•' You may be right," said Leslie. " but I can't go back
like this. Now, my lads, who's for going on? "

'• All on us," said the fisherman who had first spoken,
and the boats separated to continue their hopeless task.

All at once there was a faint streak out in the east, a
streak of dull grey, and a strange wild, faint cry came off
the sea.

" There ! " cried the detective ; *' pull, my lads, pull ! he
is swimming still. No, no, more towards the right."

"Swimming? — all this time, and in his clothes !" said
one of the coastguard quietly. " That was only a gull."

The detective struck his fist into his open left hand, and
stood gazing round over the glistening water, as the stars
paled, the light in the east increased till the surface of the
sea seemed steely grey, and by degrees it grew so light
that near the harbour a black speck could be seen, toward
which the officer pointed.

" Buoy," said the nearest rower laconically, and the
officer swept the surface again. Then there was a fiiint
shade of orange nearly in the zenith, a flock of gulls flew
past, and here and there there were flecks and splashes of
the pale silvery water, which ere long showed the reflection
of the orange sky, and grew golden. The rocks that lay at
the foot of the huge wall of cliff were fringed with foam, and
wherever there was a break in the shore and some tiny
river gurgled down, a wreathing cloud of mist hung in the
hollow.

Moment by moment the various objects grew more dis-
tinct ; black masses of rock tringed with green or brown
sea-wrack, about which the tide eddied and played, now
hiding, now revealing for some crested wave to pounce
upon as a sea monster might upon its prey. The dark
slaty rocks displayed their wreaths of ivy, and the masses
of granite stood up piled in courses of huge cubes, as if by
titanic hands, grey with parched moss, dull and dead look-
ing ; and then all at once, as the sun slowly rose above the
sea, glorious in God's light, sparkling as if set with myriads
of gems, the grey became gold, and all around there was a
scene of beauty such as no painter could do more than
suggest. Everything was glorified by the rising sun ; sea,

2l6

rilE HAUrE NOBLESSE.

p. w

\:'^

sky, the distant houses, and s]iii)i)ing, all gleamed as if of
burnished gold — all was of sui)rcmc beauty in the birth of
that new day. No, not at all : here and there slowly using
their oars as they scanned sea and rock, sat a crew of hag-
gard men, while back on the golden i)oint clustered a crowd
watching their efforts, and hanging back with natural
kindly delicacy from tie group c-f tl»ree at the extreme
edge of the granite point — two pale-faced, grey, wild-eyed
men, and the girl who sat crouching on a fragment of rock,
her hair loose, her hands clasped round her knees, and a
look of agonised sorrow in the piteous drawn face, ever
directed towards the east.

'* They're all coming back," said some one close at
hand.

The man was right ; slowly one by one the boats crept
over the glorious sea towards the harbour, Duncan Leslie's
last.

" Nothing ? " said Uncle Luke in a low whisper as the
coastguard boat was backed toward the point, and the
detective sprang ashore.

" Nothing, sir. Poor foolish, misguided lad! Might
have been my boy, sir, I've only done my duty ; but this
is a dark night's work I shall never forget. I feel as if I
were answerable for his death."

Ten minutes later Duncan Leslie landed in the same
way, and laid his hand upon Uiicle Luke's arm.

"" I was obliged to coine back," he said ; " my men are
fagged out."

" No signs of him ! "

Leslie shook his head and spoke in a whisper.

" ni be off again as soon as I can get a fresh crew, and
search till I do find him. For Heaven's sake, sir, do take
them home ! "

It was a kindly whisper, but Louise heard every word,
and shuddered as she turned, and hid her face in her
father's breast. For she knew what it meant ; it was to
spare her tlie agonising sight, when the sea, according to
its wont, threw something up yoiider among the rugged
stones, where, to use the fishermen's words, the curicnt
bit hardest on the shore. She fought hard to keep back
the wild cry that struggled in her breast ; but it was in
vain, and many a rough fellow turned aside as he heaid
the 1 jor girl's piteous wail out therein the sunshine d
that glorious morn.

!■• ■)/

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

217

" Harry ! brother ! what shall I do? "

George Vine's lips parted as he bent down over his
child. " The Lord gave, and "

His voice failed, but his lips completed poor old
stricken Job's words, and there was a pause. Then he
.v^emed to draw himself up, and held out his hand for a
rnomeni: to Duncan Leslie.

" Luke ! " he said then calmly and gravely. " Your arm
too. Let us go home."

The little crowd parted left and rights and every hat
was doffed in the midst of a great silence, as the two old
men walked slowly up the rough pier, supporting the
stricken girl.

Duncan Leslie followed, and as they passed on through
ihe narrow lane of humble, sympathising people of the
port, these turned in and slowly followed, two and two,
bare-headed, as if it were a funeral procession.

Just then, high above the top of the grand cliff, a lark
soared up, sprinkling the air as from a censer of sound,
with his silvery notes joyous, loud, and thrilling ; and one
patriarchal fisherman, who had seen many a scene of
sorrow in his time^ whispered to the mate walking at his
side —

"Ay, lad, and so it is ; midst of life we are in death."

" Ah/' sighed his companion ; '^ but on such a morn as
this ! "

CHAPTER XXXHL

AT THE GRANITE HOUSE.

The Vines had hardly reached their home when quietly
and in a furtive way boat after boat put off down the
harbour, from the little punt belonging to some lugger,
right up to the heavy fishing-craft, rowed by some six or
eight men. There was no conmiunication one with the
other ; no general order had been given, but, with one
consent, all were bent upon the same mission, and hour
after hour, every mass of weedy rock, chasm, hollow, and
zorn was scanned, where it was known that the current
was likely to throw up that which it had engulfed j but,

'«'

;

. ,|

2l8

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

'11 1;!..

if
%.

though every inch of shore was searched, the task proved
to be wiihoiit avail, and the brothers, seated together in
the quaint, old-fashioned dining room, wailing to be sunv
rnoned for the reception of their dead, sat waiting, and
without receiving the call.

Louise had refused to leave them, and had clung to
her father, asking to be allowed to stay ; but no sooner
was the consent obtained than it proved to be useless, for
the poor girl was completely prostrated by the excitement
and horror of the past night, and had to be helped up to
her couch.

And there the brothers sat in silence, George Vine calm,
stern, and with every nerve on the strain ; Uncle Luke
watching him furtively without attempting to speak.

AVhen any words had passed between the brothers, the
old cynic's voice sounded less harsh, and its tones were
sympathetic, as he strove to be consolatory to the suffering
man. They had been seated some time together in silence,
when Uncle Luke rose, and laid his hand upon his brother's
shoulder.

" I don't know what to say to you, George," he whispered
softly. " For all these years past I've been, what you
know, a childless, selfish man ; but I feel for you, my lad
— I feel for you, and I'd bear half your agony, if I could."

George Vine turned upon him with a piteous smile, and
took the hand resting on his shoulder.

"You need not speak, Luke," he said sadly. " Do you
think we have lived all these years without my under-
standing my brother, and knowing what he is at heart?"

Luke shook his head, gripped the hand which held his
firmly, but could not speak.

" I am going to bear it like a man, please God ; but it
is hard, Luke, hard ; and but for poor Louise's sake I
could wish that my journey was done."

" No, no. No, no, George," said the brother huskily.
*' There is, lad, much to do here yet — for you, my boy—
for Louise — that poor, half-crazy woman upstairs, and
Uncle Luke, who is not much better, so they say. No,
my boy, you must fight — you must bear, and bear it
bravely, as you will, as soon as this first shock is over,
and there's always hope — always hope. The poor boy
may have escaped."

"Ay, to where? Luke, brother, for heaven's sake let

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

219

niL' be in peace. I cannot bear to speak now. I feel as if
the strain is too great for my poor brain."

I Aike pressed his hand, and walked slowly to the window,
from whence he could gaze down at the boats going and
coming into the harbour ; and he shuddered as he thought
what any one of them might bring.

" I5etter it should, and at once," he said to himself.
" He'll know no rest until that is past."

He turned and looked in wonder at the door, which
o])cned then, and Aunt Marguerite, dressed in one of her
siiffesL brocades, pale, but with her eyes stern and fierce,
entered the room, to sweep slowly across, till she was
opposite to George Vine, when she crossed her arms over
her breast, and began to beat her shoulder with her large
ivory fan, the thin leaves making a peculiar pattering noise
against her whalebone stiffened bodice.

" Don't talk to him, Margaret," said Uncle Luke, coming
forward. " He is not fit. Say what you have to say
another time."

" Silence ! you poor weak imbecile ! " she cried, as her
eyes flashed at him. " What do you do here at a time like
this ? Now," she continued, darting a vindictive look at
her broken-hearted brother, " what have you to say ? "

" To say, Margaret ? " he replied piteously. "God help
me, what can I say ? "

" Nothing, miserable that you are. The judgment has
come upon you at last. Have I not striven to save that
poor murdered boy from you — to raise him from the slough
into which you plunged him in your wretched degradation ?
Time after time I have raised my voice, but it has been
unheard. I have been treated as your wretched dependant,
who could not even say her soul was her own, and with
my heart bleeding, I have seen "

" Margaret, you were always crazy," cried Uncle Luke
fiercely ; " are you raving mad "> "

" Yes," she cried. " Worm, pitiful crawling worm.
You are my brother by birth, but what have I seen of you
but your wretched selfish life — of you who sold your
birthright to sink into the degraded creature you are, so
degraded that you side with this man against me, now that
he is worthily punished for his crime against his son."

*'I cannot listen to this," cried Uncle Luke furiously.

" Let her speak," said George Vine sadly ; '' she thinks
she is right."

220

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

*' And so do you," cried Aunt Margiicrilc. " If yon
had kept tlie poor l)oy a gentleman ?11 this would not l,;ive
happened. See to wliat extent you have driven the jiof.r,
brave-hearted, noble l)oy, the only true des Vignes. Voii.
degenerate creature that you are, maddened him by the
life you forced him to lead, till in sheer recklessness ho
took this money, struck down the tyrant to whom you
made him slave, and at last caused him to be hunted down
till, with the daring of a des Vignes, he turned, and diLci
like one of his chivalrous ancestors, his face to his foes,
his "

"Bah!" cried Uncle Luke, with a fierce snarl, "his
chivalrous ancestors ! "

" Luke ! "

'' I tell you, George, I'm sick of the miserable cant.
Died like a hero ! Woman, it was your miserable teach-
ing made him the discontented wretch he was."

*' For pity's sake, Luke."

*' I must speak, now," cried the old man furiously ; " it's
time she knew the truth : but for you who, in return for
the shelter of your brother's roof, filled the boy's head with
your vain folly, he would have been a respectable men.ber
of society, an honest Englishman, instead of a would-be
murderer and thief."

*' It is false ! " cried Aunt Marguerite.

*' It is true ! " thundered the old man, in spite of his
brother's imploring looks ; '' true, and you know^ it's true.
Died like a hero, with his face to the foe ! He died, if he
be dead, like a coward, afraid to face the officer of the law
he had outraged — a disgrace to the name of Vine."

Aunt Marguerite stood gazing at him, as if trying to
stay him with the lightning of her eyes, but his burst of
passion was at an end, and he did not even realise thai
her vindictive looks had faced out, and that she had grown
ghastly as a sheet, and tottered half palsied from the rocm.

For, horrified by the agony he read in his brother's face,
T.uke Vine had seized his hands, and was gazing implor-
ingly at him.

" Forgive me, George," he whispered. " I knew not
what I said."

" Let me be alone — for a while," faltered his brother.
*' I am weak. I cannot bear it now."

But the strain was not yet at an end, for at that moment

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

221

there was a tap at the door, and Liza entered, looking icd-
eyed and strange ; and a sob escaped her as she saw her
master's face.

"A gentleman to see you, sir. He must see you at
once," she stammered.

" If you please, Mr. Vine," said a short, stern voice, and,
without further ceremony, the detective officer entered the
room.

George Vine rose painfully, and tried to cross to where the
man stood inside the door, looking sharply from one to
the other.

'* No," he said, inaudibly, as his eyes seemed to grasp
everything ; '' they're honest. Don't know where he is."

George Vine did not cro~.'i to the officer ; his strength
seemed to fail him.

" You have come," he said slowly, as he tried to master
a piteous sigh. " Luke, you v/ill come with me ? "

*' Yes, lad, I'll come," said Uncle Luke. Then turning
towards the officer, he whispered, *' Where did you find
the poor lad ? "

" You are labouring under a mistake, sir," said the man.
" We have not found him — yet. My people are searching
still, and half the fishermen are out in their boats, but they
say it is not likely tliat they will find liim till after a tide or
two when he will be cast ashore."

The words sounded hard and brutal, and Luke gave the
speaker a furious look as he saw his brother wince.

" Wliy have you come here, then?" said Uncle Luke,
harshly. " Do you think he has not suffered enough ? "

The officer made no reply, but stood, note-book in hand,
thinking. Then sharply :

" A person named Pradelle has been staying here."

" Yes," said Uncle Luke, with a snap of his teeth ; " and
if you had taken him instead of hunting down our poor
boy you would have done some good."

" All in good time, sir. I expect he was at the bottom
of it all. Have you any information you can give me as
to where he is likely to have gone ? "

'' Where do all scoundrels and thieves go to hide ? Lon-
don, I suppose."

" I expected that," said the officer, talking to Uncle
Luke, but watching George Vine's drawn, grief-stricken
face the while. " I daresay we shall be able to put a

332

THE IIAUTi: NOBLESSE.

y'3i\

finger upon him before long. Tic docs not seem to have
a very good record, and yet you gentlemen ai)pear to have
given him a welcome here."

George Vine made a deprecating movement witli his
hands, the detective watching him keenly the while, and
evidently hesitating over something he had to say.

" And now, sir," said Uncle lAike, *' you'll excuse me if
I ask you to go. This is not a time lor cross-examination."

" Eh ? perhaps not," said the ofiicer sharj)]y, as he gave
the old man a resentful glance. Then to himself, " Well
— it's duty. He had no business to. I've no time for
fine feelings."

"At another time," continued Uncle Tuke, ''if you will
come to me, I daresay I can give you whatever information
you require."

" Oh, you may rest easy about that, sir," said the officer,
half laughingly, " don't you be afraid. But I want a few
words now with this other gentleman."

*' And I say no ; you shall not torture him now," cried
Uncle Luke, angrily. " He has suffered enough."

" Don't you interfere, sir, till you are called upon," said
the officer roughly. " Now, Mr. George Vine, if you
please."

"I will not have it," cried Uncle Luke; "it is an
outrage."

" Let him speak, brother," said George Vir 2, with calm
dignity; ''now sir, go on."

" I will, sir. It's a painful duty, but it is a duty. Now,
sir, I came here with a properly signed warrant for the
arrest of Henry Vine, for robbery and attempted murder."

" Ah ! " sighed Vine, with his brow wrinkling.

" The young man would have resigned himself quietly,
but you incited him to resist the law and escape."

"It is quite true. I have sinned, sir," said Vine, in a
low pained voice, " and I am ready to answer for what I
have done."

" But that is not all," continued the officer. ** Not con-
tent with aiding my prisoner to escape, you attacked me,
sir, and twice over you struck me in the execution of my
duty."

" Is this true, George ? " cried Uncle Luke, excitedly.

" Yes, said his brother, calmly bending to this new storm ;
*'yes, it is quite true."

■■'h 1

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

223

" Well, sir, what have you to say ? "

"Nothing."

" You know, I suppose, that it is the duty of every
citizen to help the ofticcrs of the law?"

"Yes."

" And yet you not only fought against me; but struck
me heavily. I have the marks."

''Yes ; I own to it all."

"And you know that it is a very serious offence ? "

" Yes," said the wretched man ; and he sank into the
nearest chair, looking straight before him into vacancy.

" Well, sir," said the officer sharply, " I'm glad you know
the consequences." Then turning sharply on Uncle Luke,
who stood biting his lij^s in an excited manner, " Perhaps
you'll come into the next room with me, sir. I should like
a few words with you."

Uncle Luke scowled at him, as he led the way into the
drawing-room, and shut the door angrily.

" Now, sir," he began fiercely, " let mc "

"Hold hard, old gentleman !" said the officer ; "don't
be so excitable. I want a few words, and then, for good-
ness' sake, give me a glass of wine and a biscuit. I've
touched nothing since I came here last night."

" Ah !" ejaculated Uncle Luke, furiously ; but the man
went on.

" Of course it's a serious thing striking an officer ; let
alone the pain, there's the degradation, for people know of
it. I'm sore at losing my prisoner, and if he had not held
me I should have had the young fellow safe, and that
horrible accident wouldn't have happened."

"And now what are you going to do? " snarled Uncle
Luke , " drag him off to gaol ? "

" Going to act like a man, sir. Think I'm such a brute ?
Poor old fellow, I felt quite cut, hard as I am, and I'd
have asked him to shake hands over it, only he couldn't
have taken it kindly from me. You seem a man of the
world, sir. He's one of those dreamy sort of naturalist
fellows. Tell him from me I'd have given anything sooner
than all this should have happened. It WcTS my duty to
see him about his ^resistance to the law. But, poor old
fellow, he was doing his natural duty in defence of his boy,
just as T felt that T was doing miu .v"

Uncle Luke did not speak but stood holding out his

i M

■m
i- .'1'

824

r/fli IhWTE NO PI. ESSE,

hand. The officer gripped il cngerly, and they two stood
gazing in e.icli other's facc-^ T-r ;i few inoiiKiUs.

" Tliank you," said Uncle Luke gently ; and after a lime
the officer rose to go.

Yes, sir," he sai(l, at parting, " I shall stay down here
till the poor boy is found. Some one in town will be on
the look-out for our friend Pr.ulelk', for, unless I'm very
much mistaken, he's the monkey who handled the cat's
paws. Good morning."

Uncle Luke stood at the door watching the officer till
he was out of sight, and then returned to the old dining-
room, to find his brother still gazing into vacancy, just as
he had been left.

"News, Luke? "he said, as he looked eagerly. "No,
you need not speak. Perhaps it is better so. Better death
than this terrible dishonour."

CHAPTER XXXIV.

GEORGE VINE ASKS FOR HELP.

** She shall go. I always knew she was a thief," 'said
Aunt Marguerite, as she stood by her open window, listen-
ing to a whispered communication going on. *' Wait till
Louise can act like a woman, and see to her housekeeping
again, and that girl shall go."

She listened again, and could hear a rough woman's
voice urging something, while the more familiar voice of
Liza was raised again and again in a whispered protest.

Then followed more talking, and at last there was a
pause, followed by a hasty whisper, and the heavy ste]) of
old Poll Perrow, with her basket on her back, supported
by the strap across her brovv-. Aunt Marguerite had beep
to her niece's door again and again, and tried it to find it
fastened ; and she could get no response to her taps and
calls. She seemed to feel no sorrow only rage agcamst all
by whom she was surrounded ; and, isolated as it were.
she spent the afternoon going to and fro between her own
room and one which gave her a good view of the harbour
mouth with boats goim^^ and r .'turning ; for the search for
the body of Harry Vine was kept up without cessation,

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

225

the fishermen lending themselves willingly to the task, and
submitting, but with an ill grace, to the presence of the
j)olicc.

Aunt Marguerite, however, in spite of her vindictive
feeling, suffered intense grief ; and her sorrow seemed to
deepen the lines in her handsome old face.

"They've murdered him, they've murdered him !" she
kept on muttering as she watched the passing boats.
"No one understood him but me."

She drew back sharply from the window, for just then
a closely veiled figure came hurriedly into view, her goal
being evidently the old granite house.

Aunt Marguerite's eyes sparkled with vindictive malice.

"Yes," she said, half aloud ; "and you too, madam —
you had your share in the poor boy's death. Oh ! how I
do hate your wretched Dutch race."

She crossed to the door, and opened it slightly, to stand
listening, to hear voices a few minutes later, and then steps
on the stairs, which stopped, after a good deal of whisper-
ing, at her niece's door, after which there was a low
tapping, and I^iza's voice arose :

" Miss Louise ! Miss Louise ! "

"Yes, knock again. She will not answer. One of them
has some pride left."

" Miss Louise, Miss Louise, you're wanted, please."

There v/as no reply to the repeated knocks. There
was a smile of satisfaction on Aunt Marguerite's face as
she drew herself up, and opened her fan as if at some pre-
sentation, or about to dismiss an intruder; but her coun-
tenance changed directly, and, forgetting her dignity, she
craned forward, for all at once a pleading voice arose.

" Louise, Louise, for pity's sake let me in."

There was a short pause, and then the sharp sound of
the shooting back of a bolt and the creaking of a door.
Then it was closed again, and as the listener threw her
own open there came the faint sound of a passionate cry
and a low sobbing.

Aunt Marguerite stepped out into the passage, her head
erect, and her stiff silk training noisily behind her, to go
to her own room, but the way was barred by the presence
of Liza, who was down on the floor crouched in a heap,
sobbing passionately, with her apron up to her eyes.

22(J

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

Pi ''^ m

•4 ' '

" Get up ! " said Aunt Marguerite imperiously, as she
struck ■•.V, the girl's hand with her fan.

Liza leaped to her feet, looked aghast at the figure before
her, and fled, while Aunt Marguerite strode into her room,
and loudly closed the door. As she passed her niece's
chamber, Louise was clasped tightly in Madelaine's arms,
and it was long before the two girls were seated, hand in
hand, gazing wonderingly at the inroads made so soon by
grief.

" It is so horrible — all so horrible," whispered Madelaine
at last, for the silence was for long unbroken, save by an
occasional sob.

Louise looked at her wildly, and then burst into a
passion of tears.

" Maddy ! " she cried at last, " is it all true ? "

They could say no more, but sat gathering comfort from
the sympathetic grasp of each other's hands.

At last, in a dull heavy way, the words came, each
sounding as if the speaker were in despair, but willing to
suffer so that her companion might be spared, and by
degrees Louise learned that Van Heldre still lay in the
same insensible state, the awaking from which Madelaine
chrank from with horror, lest it should mean the return for
a brief time of sense before the great final change.

" I could not come to you," said Louise, after a long
silence, as she gazed wistfully in her friend's face, " and
thought we should never meet again as friends."

'' You should have known me better," replied Madelaine.
'' It is very terrible, such a — such a — oh Louy, dearest,
there must have been some mistake. Harry — Harry could
not have been so base."

Louise was silent for a time. At last she spoke.

*' There must be times," she said gently, " when even the
best of us are not answerable for our actionj. He must
have been mad. It was when, too — he had — promised —
he had told me — that in the future — oh," she cried, shud-
dering, as she covered her face with her hands, *' it can't
be true — it cannot be true."

Again there was a long silence in the room, whose drawn-
down blind turned the light of a sickly yellow hue. But
the window was open, and from time to time the soft sea
breeze wafted the blind inward, and a bright ray of sunny
light streamed in like hope across the two bent forms.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

227

jlaine.

rarest,

could

IS.

" I must not stay long," said Madelaine. " I shiver
whenever I am away, lest "

'* No, no," cried Louise, passionately, as she strained
her friend to her breast^ '' we will not despond yet. All
this comes across our lives like a dense black cloud, and
there must be a great change in the future. Your father
will recover."

" I pray that he may," said Madelaine.

" And I will not believe that Harry is — dead."

*' I pray that he may be alive, Louy, to come some time
in the future to ask forgiveness of my father. For I did
love him, Louy ; at first as a sister might the brother with
whom she had played from childhood^ and of late in sorrow
and anguish, as the woman whom he had always said he
loved. I fought with it, oh, so hard, but the love was
there, and even when I was most hard and cold "

" And he believed you cared for Mr. Leslie."

The words slipped from Louise Vine's lips like an escaped
thought, and the moment they were spoken, she shrank
away with her pale cheeks crimsoning, and she gazed
guiltily at her companion.

"It was a foolish fancy on his part," said Madelaine
gravely. " I cannot blame myself for anything I ever said
or did to your brother. If I had been wrong, my lapse
would have come upon me now like the lash of a whip ;
but in the long hours of my watches by my poor father's
bed, I have gone over it again and again, and I cannot
feel that I have been wrong."

Louise drew her more closely to her breast.

''Maddy," she whispered, *' years will have to pass, and
we must separate. The pleasant old days must end, but
some day, when all these horrors have been softened by
time, we may call each other sister again, and in the long
dark interval you will not forget."

" Forget ! " said Madelaine, with a smile full of sadness.
"You know that we shall always be unchanged."

" Going — so soon ? " exclaimed Louise, for her friend
had risen.

" He is lying yonder," said Madelaine. " I must go
back. I could not stay away long from you though with-
out a word."

They stood for a few moments clasped in each other's
arms, and then in a slow, sad way, went hand in hand to-

228

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

wards the door. As she opened it for her friend to pass
through, Louise shrank back from the burst of sunshine
that flooded the passage, and placed her hand across her
eyes. It was a momentary act, and then she drew a long
breath and followed her friend, as if her example had given
the needed strength, and acted as an impetus to raise her
from the lethargic state into which she had fallen.

In this spirit she went down with her to the door,
when, as their steps sounded on the hall floor, the dining-
room door was thrown open quickly, and Vine stood in
the darkened opening, gazing wildly at the veiled figure of
Madelaine.

'' Van Heldre ? " he said, in an excited whisper ; "not

— not " He could not finish his speech, but stood

with his hand pressed to his throat.

" My father's state is still unchanged," said Madelaine
gently.

*' Then there may yet be hope, there may yet be hope,"
said Vine hoarsely as he shrank onc^ more into the dark-
ened room.

" Mr. Vine," said Madelaine piteously, as she stood with
extended hands asking sympathy in her grievous trouble.

" My child ! " he cried, as he caught her to his breast,
and she clung there sobbing bitterly. Then he softly dis-
engaged her hands from his neck. " No, no," he said
dreamily, " I am guilty too ; I must never take you to my
heart again."

" What have I done ? " sobbed Madelaine, as she clung
to him still.

" You? " he said fondly. " Ah ! it was oncv"' my dream
that you would be more and more my child. ' ittle Made-
laine ! "

He drew her to his breast again, kissed her with spas-
modic eagerness, and tht.i held out a hand to Louise, who
flew to his breast as with an angry, malicious look, Aunt
Marguerite advanced to the end of the landing and looked
down at the sobbing group.

" Good-bye ! " whispered the stricken man hoarsely,
*' good-bye, my child. I am weak and helpless. I hardly
know what I say \ but you must come here no more.
Good-bye."

He turned from them hastily, and glided back into the
darkened room, where Louise followed him, as Madelaine
went slowly down toward the town.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

229

Vine was seated before the emi)ty grate, his head resting
on his hand, as Louise went to his side, and he started as
if from a dream when she touched his shoulder.

•* You, my child? " he said, sinking back. "Ah, stay
with me — pray with me. It is so hard to bear alone."

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE OLD WATCHDOG.

: clung

I spas-
who

Aunt
coked

larsely,
Ihardly
more.

[to the
elaine

The silence as if of death reigned for days and days at
Van Heldre's house, which, unasked, old Crampton had
made his residence. In a quiet furtive way he had taken
possession of the inner office, to which he had brought
from his own house a sofa-cushion and pillow, carrying
them there one dark night unseen, and at times, no doubt,
he must have lain down and slept ; but to all there it was
a mystery when he did take his rest.

If Mrs. Van Heldre called him to partake of a meal he
came. If he was forgotten he ate one of a store of cap-
tain's biscuits which he kept in his desk along with his
very strong tobacco, which flavoured the said biscuits in a
way that, being a regular smoker, he did not notice, while
at ten o'clock he regularly went out into the yard to have
his pipe. He was always ready to sit up and watch, but,
to his great annoyance, he had few opportunities, the task
being shared between Madelaine and her mother.

As to the business of the office, that went on as usual
as far as the regular routine was concerned, everything
fresh being put back till the principal resumed his place
at his desk. Bills of lading, the smelting-house accounts
bank deposits, and the rest, all were attended to, just as if
Van Heldre had been there instead of lying above between
life and death. From time to time Mrs. Van Heldre came
down to him to beg that he would ask for everything he
wanted.

" I cannot help neglecting you, Mr. Crampton," she said
with her hands playing about the buttons of her dress.

" Never you mind about me, ma'am." he said, admon-
ishing her with a penholder. '• I'm all light, and waiting
to take my turn."

2y>

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

" Yes, yes, you're very good, Mr. Crampton, and you
will see that everything goes on right, so that when he
comes down he may find that we have not neglected any
single thing."

Crampton frowned, but his face grew smooth again as
he looked at the little anxious countenance before him.

" Don't you be afraid, ma'am. If Mr. Van Heldre came
down to-day everything is ready for him — everything."

" Yes, of course, Mr. Crampton. I might have known
it. But I can't help feeling anxious and worried about
things."

** Naturally, ma'am, naturally ; and I've been trying to
take all worry away from you about the business. Every-
thing is quite right. Ah !" he said as the little woman
hurried away from the office, " if Miss Maddy would only
talk to me like that. But she won't forgive me, and I
suppose she never will." He made an entry and screwed
up his lips, as he dipped a pen in red ink and ruled a
couple of lines, using the ebony ruler which had laid his
master low. " Poor girl ! I never understood these
things ; but they say love makes people blind and contrary,
and so it is that she seems to hate me, a man who wouldn't
rob her father of a penny, and in her quiet hiding sort of
way worships the man who robbed him of five hundred
pounds, and nearly killed him as well. Ah ! it's a curious
world."

" I've — I've brought you a glass of wine and a few
biscuits, Mr. Crampton," said Mrs. Van Heldre, entering,
and speaking in her pleasant prattling wviy. Then she set
down a tray, and hurried out before he could utter his
thanks.

" Good little woman," said Crampton. " Some people
would have brought a glass of wine and not the decanter.
Well, yes, ma'am, I will have a glass of wine, for I feel beat
out."

He poured out a glass of good old sherry, held it up to
the light, and closed one eye.

" Your health, Mr. Van Heldre," he said solemnly.
" Best thing I can wish you. Yours, Mrs. Van Heldre,
and may you never be a widow. Miss Madelaine, your
health, my dear, and may your eyes be opened. I'm not
such a bad man as you think."

He drank the glass of wine, and then made a grimace.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

231

" Sweet biscuits," he said, " only fit for children. Hah,
well ! Eh ? What's the matter ? "

He had heard a cry, and hurrying across the office, he
locked the door, and ran down the glass corridor to the
house.

" Worse, ma'am, worse ? " he cried, as Mrs. Van
Heldre came running down the stairs and into the dining-
room, where she plumped herself on the floor, and held
her hands to her lips to keep back the hysterical sobs
which struggled for vent.

" Shall I run for the doctor, ma'am? "

" No^ no ! " cried Mrs. Van Heldre, in a stifled voice,
with her mouth still covered. " Better."

''Better?"

She nodded violently.

" Then it was very cruel of you, ma'am," said the old
man, plaintively. " I thought — I thought "

Crampton said no more, but he walked to the window
with his face buried in his great yellow silk handkerchief,
blowing his nose with a continuity and force which became
at last so unbearable that Mrs. Van Heldre went out into
the hall.

She went back soon into the dining-room where Cramp-
ton was waiting anxiously.

" He looked at me whenT was in the room with my
darling child, Mr. Crampton, and his lips parted, and he
spoke to me, and I was obliged to come away, for fear I
should do him harm."

'•' Come away, ma'am ! and at a time like that ! " said
Crampton, angrily.

Mrs. Van Heldre drew herself up with dignity.

" My child signed to me to go," she said quietly ; and
then with her eyes brimming over with tears, " Do you
think I would not have given the world to stay?"

At that moment Madelaine came quickly and softly
into the room.

*' He is sleeping," she whispered excitedly ; " he looked
at me and smiled, and then his eyes closed and he seemed
to go into a calm sleep, not that terrible stupor, but sleep.
Mother, come and see — it must be sleep."

Old Crampton was left alone to begin pacing the room
excitedly for a few minutes, when Madelaine came down
once more.

232

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

\
I

PI!: I

" Pray go for Dr. KnatchbuU ! " she cried piteously.

" But isn't he "

*' We do not know — we are afraid to hope — pray, pray

go."

'' She hasn't spoken so gently since that night," mutteied

Crampton, as he hurried down the street. *' Poor girl !
it is very hard ; and this may be only the change before —
No, I won't think that," cried the old clerk, and he broke
into a run.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

CRAMPTON REPORTS PROGRESS.

" Yes," said Dr. KnatchbuU, confidently ; " he will get
over it now. Can't say," he said, rubbing his hands in
his satisfaction, " whether it's the doctor's physic or the
patient's physique, but one of them has worked wonders.
What do you say. Miss Van Heldre ? "

" That we can never be sufficiently grateful to you."

*' Never," cried Mrs. Van Heldre, wringing his hdnd.

"Bah!" exclaimed the doctor, "that's what you people
say now that you have got to the turn ; but by-and- by
when I send in my bill — and I mean to make this a pretty
stiff one, Mrs. Van Heldre — you will all be as grumpy as
possible, and think it a terrible overcharge."

" Well, really. Dr. KnatchbuU," began Mrs. Van Heldre,
ruffling up like an aggravated hen, " I am quite sure my
dear husband will pay any "

" Mamma, mamma, dear ! " cried Madelaine, smiling
through her tears ; " can you not see that Dr. KnatchbuU
is laughing at us? "

" No, my dear," said the little lady angrily ; " but if he
is, I must say that it is too serious a matter for a joke."

" So it is, my dear madam," said the doctor, taking her
hand, " far too serious ; but I felt in such high spirits to
find that we have won the fight, that I was ready to talk
any nonsense. All the same though, with some people
it's as true as true."

" Yes, but we are not some people," said Mrs. Van
Heldre. " But now tell us what we are to do."

' (SI

THE HAUTE XOBI.ESSE.

233

^dre,
my

[ling
IbuU

'an

" Nothing, my dear maddai, but let him have rest and
peace."

"But he has been asking f(jr Mr. C'rampton this morn-
ing, and that means business."

" Well, let him see him to-morrow, if he asks. If he is
not allowed, he will fidget, and that will do him more harm
than seeing him, only 1 would not let him dwell on the
attack. Divert his attention all you can, and keep from
him all you possibly can about the Vines."

John Van Heldre did not ask for his confidential clerk
for two days more, the greater part of which time he spent
in sleep ; but in the intervals he talked in a low voice to
his wife or Madelaine, not even alluding once, to their
great surprise, to the cause of his illness.

" He must know it, mamma," said Madelaine, sadly j
'•and he is silent, so as to spare me."

At last the demand for Crampton was made, and the old
clerk heard it looking eager and pleased.

" At last ma'am," said Crampton, rubbing his hands.

" You'll go up very quietly, Mr. Crampton," said Mrs.
Van Heldre. *' If you would not mind."

She pointed to a pair of slippers she had laid ready.
The old clerk looked grim, muttered something about the
points of his toes, and ended by untying his shoes, and
putting on the slippers.

Madelaine was quite right, for no sooner had Van
Heldre motioned the clerk to a chair by the bed's head,
learned that all was right in his office, and assured the old
man that he was mending fast, than he opened upon him
regarding the attack that night.

" Was that money taken ? " he said, quickly.

" Is it right for you to begin talking about that so soon ? "
replied Crampton.

"Unless you want me to go backwards, yes," said his
employer, sharply. " There, answer my questions. I have
nothing the matter now ; only weak, and I cannot ask any
one else."

" I'm your servant, Mr. Van Heldre," said Crampton,
stitfiy. "Go on, sir."

" That money, then ? "

" Gone, sir, every note. Five hundred pounds."

" Dead loss," said Van Heldre ; " but it must be repaid."

" Humph ! pretty opinion you seem to have of me, sir,
as a confidential clerk."

234

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

" What do you mean, Crampton ? "

" Mean, sir ? Why, that I did my duty, and stopped
every note at the Bank of England, of course."

" You did that, Crampton ? "

" Yes, sir ; and those notes are of no use to anybody."

" Capital, Hah ! that's better. Five hundred just
coming on the other misfortune worried me. Why, Cramp-
ton, that's a white paper plaster for my sore head.''

"Glad you're satisfied, sir."

" More than satisfied. Now teH me : have the police
any notion who committed the robbery ? "

Crampton nodded.

" Do you know ? "

Crampton looked at his employer curiously, and nodded
again.

" Have they taken any one ? "

" No, sir," said the old man sadly.

" Hah ! That's bad. Who was it ? "

" Well, sir, you know of course."

"I? No!"

" You don't know, sir ? "

*' I have no idea, Crampton. I heard a noise, and went
in and surprised the scoundrel, but it was quite dark, and
as I tried to seize him I was struck down."

" And you mean to assure me, sir, that you don't know
who it was ? "

" I have not the most remote idea."

" Well then, sir, I must tell you it was him who had been
robbing you ever since the first day he came to us."

" Robbing me ? "

" Well, not exactly of money in hard cash, but of your
time, which is just the same. Time's money. Always an
hour late."

Van Heldre turned upon him fiercely.

"Crampton, can you let your prejudice go so far as to
suspect that young man ? "

" Yes, sir. I can. . . Suspect ? No, I am sure. I
doubted him from the first."

" It is monstrous. You were unjust to him from the
first."

"I, sir?"

" Yes. But then how can a man who has never had a
child be just to the weaknesses of the young ? "

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

23s

'•' I can be just, sir, and I have been. You don't know
the supercilious way in which that boy treated me from
the day he entered our office. Always late, and as soon as
he was settled down to his work, in must come that scoun-
drel with the French name to ask for him, and get him
away. Why, Mr. Van Heldre, sir, if I hadn't been a law-
abiding subject of her most gracious Majesty Queen
Victoria, I'd have knocked that man down."

" Pish ! " said Van Heldre impatiently, as he lay back
frowning, and looking very thoughtful. *' I am sorry that
you should have entertained such a suspicion about the son
of my old friend."

" Ah ! " sighed Crampton. " Poor Mr. Vine ! It's
heart-breaking work, sir. It is, indeed."

" Heart-breaking ! " said Van Heldre. " It is atrocious.
There, I will not speak angrily, Crampton."

" No, sir. You must not ; and now I'm going, sir.
You've talked twice as much as is good for you."

"Sit down," said Van Heldre sternly.

Crampton, who had moved towards the door, slowly
resumed his place.

" I am not too weak to talk about this terrible accusa-
tion. I am not going to say much now, only to ask you
to throw aside all this prejudice and to look upon the mishap
as an unfortunate occurrence. Come, Crampton, be a
little broader. Don't be so ready to suspect the first
person you dislike, and then to keep obstinately to your
opinion."

" Better not filk any more," said Crampton, shortly.

" I must talk," said Van Heldre, more sternly. " Mind
this, Crampton, you are wrong."

The care, want of rest, and anxiety had produced a state
of acidity in the old clerk's organization which had made
him exceptionally irritable.

" Wrong, eh ? " he said sharply.

" Yes ; and I must call upon you to be careful to keep
these fancies to yourself."

" Fancies, sir ? "

" Yes, fancies, man. I would not on any consideration
have Mr. Vine know that such a suspicion had existed in
my office, and — "

He paused for a few moments, and then held out his
hand to the old clerk, who took it, and felt his own gripped
warmly.

236

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

"^•A\

"Come, Crampton," continued Van Heldre, smiling;
" after all these years together, I trust we are something
more than master and man. You have always proved
yourself a friend in the way in which yoii have looked
after my interests."

" I've always tried to do my duty, Mr. Van Heldre."

"And you always have done your duty — more than
duty. Now just go quietly down, and ask Henry Vine to
step upstairs with you. I must have this put straight at
once. Crampton, you and my old friend's son must make
a fresh start."

Crampton's fresh countenance grew dingy-looking, and
Van Heldre felt his hand twitch.

" Come, I tell yon that your suspicions are absurd, and
I must have you two work well together. The young man
only wants a little humouring to make him all that we
could wish. Go and fetch him up."

" He — he is not here this morning, sir," gasped Cramp-
ton, at last.

"Not here?"

" No, sir," said the old man hastily ; and he passed the
hand at liberty across his face.

" I am sorry. I should have liked to settle this, now it
is on my mind."

Crampton looked wildly towards the door, in the hope
that the coming of wife or daughter would bring about a
diversion.

" Of course," said Van Heldre suddenly, " you have not
shown the young man that you have had this idea in your
head ? "

Crampton was 5;ilent, and as Van Heldre looked at him
he saw the great beads of perspiration were standing upon
his face.

" Why, good heavens, Crampton," he cried, "you have
not breathed a word of all this to a soul ? "

The old clerk looked at him wildly.

" Ah ! you are kejping something back," said Van
Heldre.

" Hush, sir, hush ! " cried the old clerk in alarm ; "for
goodness sake don't be excited. Think of how weak you
are."

" Then answer," said Van Heldre, in a low whisper.
"Tell me what you have done."

THE IIAUTK NO nr. ESSE,

237

" I — I did everything for the best, sir."

" Henry Vine ! You did not accuse him of this terrible
affair?"

Crampton's face grew gradually hard and stern. His
tremulous state passed off, and he turned as if at bay.

" Crampton ! Good heavens, man ! What have you
done."

" I had to think of you, sir, lying here. Of Mrs. Van
Heldre, sir, and of Miss Madelaine."

** Yes, yes ; but speak, man. What have you done ? "

" My duty, sir."

" And accused him of this — this crime ? "

Crampton was silent.

" Are you mad ? Oh, man, man, you must have been
mad."

Crampton drew a long breath.

** Do my wife and daughter know ? "

*' Yes, sir," said Crampton slowly.

" And — and they have spoken as I speak ? They told
you it was prejudice."

Cramptoix drew a long breath once more.

" Don't, jjray don't say any more, sir — not now," he said
at last pleadingly.

" They— surely they don't — there, quick ! Ring that
bell."

" Mr. Vrn Heldre, sir. Pray — pray don't take it like
that ; I on'y did my duty by you all."

" Duty \ In a fit of madness to make such a charge as
Ihis and 'prejudice others!" cried Van Heldre angrily.
*' Ring th/^t bell, man. I cannot rest till this is set right."

*' Thi'jV , sir, how I was situated," pleaded the old clerk.
" You wrre robbed ; I saw you lying, as I thought, dying,
and I ir.w the scoundrel .who had done all this escape.
What could I do but cal^ in the police? "

" The police I Then it is known by every one in the
place ? "

Crampton looked pityingly down at the anguished coun-
tenance before him.

" And Henry Vine ? He refuted your charge? Speak,
man, or you will drive me mad."

" Henry Vine did not deny the charge, sir. He was
manly enough for that."

'• Crampton, is this all true? "

93S

THE HAUTE N on /.ESSE,

" It was my duty, sir."

" He does not deny it ? Oh ! it seems monstrous. But
you said the pohce ; you gave information. Cramplon—
his father — his sister — my poor child ! "

" Is saved from a villain, Mr. Van Heldre !" cried the
old clerk fiercely. " Better she should have died than
have married such a man as he."

"And I — I lying here helpless as a child," said the sick
man feebly. " But this must all be stopped. Crampton,
you should not have done all this. Now go at once, fetch
George Vine here, and — Henry — the young man. Where
is he?"

" Gone, sir, to answer for his crime," said the old man
solemnly. " Henry Vine is dead."

CHAPTER XXXVII.

A TITLE OF HONOUR.

Duncan Leslie sought patiently ant ^11, but he was as
unsuccessful as the rest, and after seaicumg from a boat
and being pulled close in along the shore, he rose at
daybreak one morning, and crossing the harbour, went up
along the cliff away to the east, and wherever he could find
a place possible for a descent, he lowered himself from
among the rocks, and searched there.

The work was toilsome, but it was an outlet for his
pent-up energy, and he went on and on, reaching places
where the boat could not land him ; but even here he found
that he had been forestalled, for hunting along among the
broken rocks, he could see a figure stepping cautiously
from crag to crag, where the waves washed in, and the
slimy sea-wrack made the task perilous, the more so that it
was the figure of a woman whom he recognised as the old
fish-dealer by the maund hanging on her back from the
band across her forehead.

As he toiled after her she looked round, and waited till
he came up, and addressed him in a singing tone.

" Not found him, have you, sir ? "

Leslie shook his head, and continued his search, seeing
the old woman on two alternate days still peering about

ii't-BP

THE HAUTE NO HI. ESSE,

239

among ihu rocks, like many more, for the young master,
and more stnl)l)orn in lier searcli than any of the rest.

liy slow (lc;j;rces the search was given up. It had l)een
kept u|) long after what would have been customary under
the circumstances, some of the searchers working from
sheer respect for the Vines, others toiling on in the hope of
reward.

But there was no result, and the last of the boats, that
containing Duncan Leslie, returned to the harbour, after
days of seeking to and fro along the coast.

" I felt it were no good all along, Mr. Leslie, sir," said the
old fisherman who had been chartered for the escape.
*' Sea's a mystery, sir, and when she gets hold of a body she
hides it where mortal man can't find it, and keeps it till
she's tired, and then she throws it ashore. I've watched it
well these thirty years, and one gets to know by degrees."

Leslie bowed his head dejectedly.

" Course I wasn't going to say so before, sir, because it's
a man's dooty like to go on seeking for what's lost \ but,
mark my words, sir, one o' these days that poor fellow will
be throwed uj) pretty close to where he jumped in. You
mark my words, he will, and Poll Perrow will be the first
to sec."

Leslie thought but little of the man's words then ; in fact
he hardly heard them, for in those hours his mind was full
of Louise's sufferings, and the terrible misfortune which had
come upon the homes of those two families so linked
together, and now so torn apart. Unsuccessful in his
search, he was now terribly exercised in mind as to what he
should do to help or show some sympathy for the poor girl
who, in the sorrow which had befallen her home, seemed
nearer and dearer to him than ever.

It was a hard problem to solve. He wished to show his
willingness to help, but he felt that his presence at the
Vines' could only be looked upon now as an intrusion, and
must inflict pain.

On the other hand, he was in dread lest he should be
considered indifferent, and in this state of perplexity he
betook himself to Uncle Luke.

" Nonsense, my good fellow," said the old man, quickly ;
" what more could you have done ? "

" I don't know," he said desolately. " Tell me ; I want
to help — to serve you all if I can, and yet I seem to do
nothing."

i':i?

' Hmk

24P

T/J£ HAUTE NOBLESSE.

" There is nothing that we can do," said the old man
solemnly. " Time must be the only cure for their trouble.
Look at me, Duncan Leslie \ I came to live up here with
the fewest of necessities — alone, without wife or child, to
be away from trouble, and you see I have failed. I can-
not even help myself, so how can you expect to help them?
There, leave it all to time."

" And your brother, how is he ? "

Leslie felt that he had been speaking for the sake of say-
ing something, and he bit his lip, as the old man gave him
a peculiar look.

" How is a man likely to be who has lost a son as he
has lost his ? "

Leslie was silent.

" And now you would ask after my niece, young man,
but you feel as if you dare not."

Leslie gave him an imploring look.

"Broken-hearted as her poor father, Leslie, seeing
nothing in the future but one black cloud of misery.
There, let's go out and sit in the sunshine and think."

Leslie followed the old man without a word. He longed
to ask his advice about that future, and to question him
about the friend in France, for in spite of himself he could
not help feeling a thrill of satisfaction at the thought that
for a certainty there must be an end to that engagement.
No scion of a great house could er ter into an alliance
with the sister of a man whose career had ended as had
ended Harry Vine's.

But he could not lay bare his heart to that cynical old
man, who read him as easily as the proverbial book, and
on whose lip there was always lurking the germ of a sneer-
ing smile.

He accompanied him then to his favourite seat among
the rocks, just in front of his cottage, and they sat in silence
for a time, Leslie hardly caring to start a topic lest it
should evoke a sneer.

" Let's go down into the town," said Uncle Luke, jump-
ing up suddenly.

Leslie rose without a word, and looked wonderingly at
the old man, who, with his eyes shaded by his hands, was
gazing along the rugged coast towards where, looking like
dolls, a couple of fishermen were standing by something
lying on a pebbly patch of sand.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

241

[y ^"^

1 was

Hike

ling

Leslie looked at Uncle Luke, but the old man avoided
his gaze, as if unwilling to lay lare his thoughts, and
together they walked pretty quickly down the steep slope.

" Yes," said Uncle Luke ; " the doctor says he will pull
him through."

"Mr. Van Heldrc?"

" Yes. Why don't you go and see him ? "

'^ I have sent to ask again and again, but I felt that any
call on my part in the midst of such trouble would be out
of place."

"Walk faster," said the old man excitedly, " if you can.
No. Let me go on alone. Look at them — running.
Look ! "

Leslie had already noted the fact, and out of respect for
the old man he stopped short at once, with the result that
Uncle Luke stopped too.

" Wliy don't you come on ? " he cried. •' Good heavens,
man, what can I do alone ? There, there, Leslie, it's of
no use, I can play the cynic no longer. Man is not in-
dependent of his fellows I never felt more in need of
help than I do now."

Leslie took the old man's arm, and could feel that he
was trembling, as they hurried on down towards the har-
bour, which they would have to cross by the ferry before
they could reach the little crowd gathering round the first
two men on the patch of sand.

" Keep a good heart, sir," said Leslie, gently. " It may
not be after all."

"Yes, it is — it is," groaned Uncle Luke. "I've hung
on so to the belief that being a clever swimmer he had
managed to get away; but I might have known better,
Leslie, I might have known better."

" Let's waU first and be sure, sir."

'' There is no need. I don't think I cared for the boy,
Leslie ; there were times when he made me mad with him
for his puppyism ; but he was my brother's son, and I
always hoped that after a few vears he would change and
become another man."

" Well, sir, let's cling to that hope yet."

" No, no," said the old man gloomily. " There is the
end. He was no thief, Leslie. Believe that of him. It
was his wretched scoundrel of a friend, and if Harry struck
down poor Van Heldre, it was in his horror of being taken.
He was no thief."

242

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

As they reached the lowest t -ri of the cHff path, the old
man gripped LesHe's arm with spasmodic violence and
stopped short, for the far side of the harbour lay before
them, and they could see clearly all that was going on
amid the rocks behind.

" We should be too late,'' he said huskily. " Your eyes
are younger than mine. That's the police sergeant yonder
in that bviat, isn't it ? "

" Yes."

Uncle Luke stood motionless, watching, and they could
see that a boat rowed out from the harbour had gone on,
and put in just opposite to the patch of the sand where that
remote something had been cast up by the sea. To have
carried it would have meant the use of a boat at the little
ferry, and it was evident that the sergeant had decided to
bring the sad flotsam and jetsam round to the harbour
steps.

Leslie felt the old man's arm tremble, and his efforts to
be firm, as they stood and watched the boat put off again,
after a few minutes' delay. Then the little crowd which had
collected came slowly back over the rugged shore, till they
reached the eastern arm of the harbour just as the boat was
coming in, and a piece of sail spread in the stern sheets
told but too plainly the nature of her load.

" Mr. Luke Vine," said Leslie.

" Yes," cried the old man, starting and speaking in a
harsh way, as if suddenly brought back to the present.

" Will you let me make a suggestion ? "

The old man only stared hard at him.

" Let me spare you this painful scene. It may not be as
you think, and if it is not, it will be a shock ; but if — there,
let me go, and if it prove to be according to your fears, let
me send you word by a trusty messenger, and you can
then go up to your brother's house and break the terrible
news as gently as you can."

Uncle Luke shook his head and began to descend the
sloT . timing his speed so as to reach the harbour steps at
the Sc*me time as the boat.

There was a cro^'' ' -iting, but the people parted res-
pectfully to allow li. ' Vi.' man and his companion to pass,
and the next minute CJncle Luke was questioning the
sergeant with his eyes.

The man stepped ashore, and gave an order or two

1. 1

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

243

which sent a constable off at a trot, and another policeman
took his post at the head of the steps, to keeo the way down
to the boat.

"Am I to speak plainly, sir?" said the detective in a
low voice.

** Yes ; let me know the worst."

" I'm afraid it is, sir. We have made no examination
yet."

He did not finish all he had to say aloud, but whispered
in the old man's ear. Uncle lAike made an effort to be
firm, but he shuddered and turned to Leslie.

" Up to the King's Arms," he said huskily ; and taking
Leslie's arm, the old man walked slowly towards the water-
side inn ; but they had not gone half way before they
encountered George Vine coming hastily down.

Uncle Luke's whole manner changed.

*' Where are you going ? " he cried, half angrily.

His brother merely pointed to the boat.

" How did you know ? Who told you ? " he said harshly.

'* No one," was the calm reply. " Luke, do you sup-
pose I could rest without watching for what I knew must
come ? " '

His piteous, reproachful voice went to the heart of his
hearers.

"Tell me," he continued earnestly, "Mr. Leslie, the
truth."

" There is nothing to tell, sir," said Leslie gravely, " so
far it is only surmise. Come with us and wait."

Their suspense was not of long duration. In a very
short time they were summoned from where they were wait-
ing to another room, where Dr. Knatchbull came forward
with a face so full of the gravity of the situation, that any
hope which flickered in Duncan Leslie's breast died out on
the instant ; and he heard George Vine utter a low moan,
as, arm in arm, the two brothers advanced for the identifi-
caiion, and then Luke led his brother away.

Leslie followed to lend his aid, but Uncle Luke signed
to hnn to go back.

He stood watching them till they disappeared up the
narrow path leading to the old granite house, and a sense
of misery such as he had never before felt swelled in the
young man's breast, for, as he watched the bent forms of
the two brothers, he saw in imagination what must follow,

. fe

244

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

and his brow grew heavy, as he seemed to see Louise
sobbing on her father's neck, heart-broken at her loss.

" And yet I could not help clinging to the hope that lie
had swum ashore," muttered Leslie, as he walked back to
the inn, where he found Dr. KnatchbuU in conversation
with the officer.

" I wish I had never seen Cornwall, sir," said the latter
warmly, " poor lad ! poor lad i "

''Then there is no doubt whatever? " said Leslie hur-
riedly.

" Identification after all these days in the water is impos-
sible," said the doctor ; " I mean personal identification."

" Then it may not be after all," said Leslie excitedly.

The detective shrugged his shoulders, and took a packet
from a little black bag. This he opened carefully, and
placed before L" :lie a morocco pocket-book and a card-
case, both stamped >vith a gold coronet and the motto J^oy
et Foy, while, when the card-case was drawn open and its
water-soaked contents were taken out, the cards separated
easily, and there, plainly enough, was the inscription, the
result of Aunt Marguerite's inciting —

" Henri Comte des Vignes.''^

CHAPTER XXXVIIL

POLL PER ROW GOES A-BEGGING.

Dark days of clouds with gloomy days of rain, such as
washes the fertile soil from the tops of the granite hills,
leaving all bare and desolate, with nothing to break the
savage desolation of the Cornish prospect but a few pro-
jecting blocks, and here and there a grim-looking, desolate
engine-house standing up like a rough mausoleum erected
to the memory of so much dead coin.

There were several of these in the neighbourhood of
Hakemouth, records of mining adventures where blasting
and piercing had gone on for years in search of that rich
vein of copper or tin, which experts said existed so many
feet below grass, but which always proved to be a fev; feet
lower than was ever reached, and instead of the working
leading to the resurrection of capital, it only became its
grave.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

245

The rain fell, and on the third day the wind beat, and
much soil was washed down into the verdant ferny gullies,
and out to sea. The waves beat and eddied and churned
up the viscous sea wrack till the foam was fixed, and sent
flying in balls and flakes up the rocks and over the fields,
where it lay like dirty snow.

In and out of the caverns the sea rushed and bellowed
and roared, driviig the air in before it, till the earth
seemed to quiver, and the confined air escaped with a
report like that of some explosion. Then the gale passed
over, the stars came out, and in the morning, save that the
sea looked muddy instead of crystal clear and pure, all was
sunshine and joy.

During the storm there had been an inquest, and with
rain pouring down till there were inches of water in the
grave, the body of the unfortunate man was laid to rest.

Duncan Leslie had been busy for a couple of hours in a
restless, excited way, till, happening to look down from up
by his engine-house, he caught sight of a grey-looking
figure seated upon a stone by the cliff path. Giving a few
orders, he hurried along the track.

Uncle Luke saw him coming, out of the corner of one
eye, but he did not move, only sat with his hands resting
upon his stick gazing out at the fishing-boats, which
seemed to be revelling in the calm and sunshine, and
gliding out to sea.

" Good morning."

" Bah ! nothing of the kind," said Uncle Luke, viciously.
" There isn't such a thing."

"No? " said Leslie, smiling sadly.

" Nothing of the kind. Life's all a mistake. The
world's a round ball of brambles with a trouble on every
thorn. Young Harry has the best of it, after all. Get
wet?"

"Yesterday, at the funeral? Yes, very."

" Hah ! Saw you were there. Horrible day. Well,
good job it's all over."

Leslie was silent, and stood watching the old man.

" Something upset you ? " he said at last.

" Upset me ? Do you think it's possible lor me to go
to my brother's without being ui)set?"

" No, no. It haii been a terrible business for you all."

" Wasn't talking about that," snapped out Uncle Luke.
" That's dead and buried and forgotten."

246

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

" No, sir ; not forgotten."

" I said, * and forgotten.' "

Leslie bowed.

** Confound that woman ! " continued Uncle Luke, after
a pause. " Talk about Huguenot martyrs, sir ; my brother
George and that girl have lived a life of martyrdom putting
up with her."

" She is old and eccentric."

" She has no business to be old and eccentric. Nobody
has, sir ; unless — unless he shut himself up all alone as I
do myself. I never worry any one ; I only ask to be let
alone. There, you needn't sneer."

" I did not sneer, sir."

" No, you didn't, Leslie. I beg pardon. You're a good
fellow, Leslie. True gentleman. No man could have
done more for us. But, only to think of that woman
attacking poor George and me as soon as we got back
from the funeral. Abused him for degrading his son, and
driving him to his terrible death. It was horrible, sir.
Said she would never forgive him, and drove Louise
sobbing out of the room."

Duncan Leslie winced, and Uncle Luke gave him a
stern look

" Ah, fool — fool — fool ! " he exclaimed. '' Can't you
keep out of those trammels ? Louise ? Yes, a nice girl —
now ; but she'll grow up exactly like her aunt. We're a
half-mad family, Leslie. Keep away from us."

" Mr. Luke Vine "

" No, no. You need not say anything. Be content as
you are, young man. Women are little better than monkeys,
only better looking. Look at my sister. Told George
last night than he was living under false pretences, because
he signed his name Vine. Bah ! she's an idiot. Half mad."

He turned sharply round from gazing out to sea, and
looked keenly in Leslie's face.

" Very well," he said quickly. ** I don't care if you
think I am."

" Really, Mr. Luke Vine, I "

" Don't trouble yourself to say it. You thought I wasn't
much better than my sister. I could see you did. Very
well ; perhaps I am not, but I don't go dancing my lunacy
in everybody's face. Ah, it's a queer world, Leslie."

" No, sir ; it is the people who are queer."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

247

" Humph ! That's not bad for you, Leslie. Yes ; you
are about right. It is the people who are queer. I'm a
queer one, so my folks think, because I sent my plate to
the bank, had my furniture in a big town house sold, and
came to live down here. My sister says, to disgrace them
all. There, I'm better now. Want to speak to me? "

" N — no, nothing very particular, Mr. Vine."

Uncle Luke tightened his lips, and stared fiercely out to
sea.

'' Even he can't tell the truth," he said. " Stupid fellow 1
Just as if I couldn't read him through and through."

The meeting was assuming an unpleasant form when
there was a diversion. Poll Perrow coming slowly up,
basket on back, examining each face keenly with her sharp,
dark eyes.

" Morning, Master Leslie," she said in her sing-song
tone. " Nice morning, my son. Morning, Master Luke
Vine, sir. Got any fish for me to day ?*"

Leslie nodded impatiently ; Uncle Lrkedid not turn his
head.

" I said to myself," continued the old woman, " Master
Luke Vine saw that shoal of bass off the point this morning,
and he'll be sure to have a heavy basket for me of what he
don't want. Dessay I can sell you one, Mr. Leslie, sir."

" Can't you see when two gentlemen are talking } " said
Uncle Luke, snappishly. " Go away."

" Ay, that I will, Master Luke, only let's have the fish
first."

" I told you I haven't been fishing."

" Nay, not a word. Master Luke. Now, did he, Master
Leslie ? No fish, and I've tramped all the way up here
for nothing."

"Shouldn't have come, then."

" It's very hard on a poor woman," sighed Poll, sinking
on a stone, and resting her hands on her knees, her basket
creaking loudly. " All this way up and no fish."

" No ; be off."

" Iss, Master Luke, I'll go ; but you've always been a
kind friend to me, and I'm going to ask you a favour, sir.
I'm a lone woman, and at times I feed gashly ill, and
I thought if you'd got a drop of wine or sperrits "

"To encourage you in drinking."

" Now listen to him, what hard things he can say, Mas-

248

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

ter Leslie, when I'm asking for a little in a bottle 10 keep
in the cupboard for medicine."

" Go and beg at my brother's," snarled Uncle Luke.

" How can I, sir, wilJi them in such troul)le ? Givenic
a drop, sir; 'bout a pint in the bottom of a bottle."

** Hear her, Leslie ? That's modest. What would her
ideas be of a fair quantity ? There, you can go, Poll Pcr-
row. You'll get no spirits or wine from me."

" Not much, sir, only a little."

" A little ? Ask some of your smuggling friends that
you go to meet out beyond the East Town."

The woman's jaw dropped, and Leslie saw that a pecu-
liar blank look of wonder came over her countenance.

" Go to meet — East Town ? "

" Yes, you're always stealing out there now before day-
break. I've watched you."

" Now think of that. Master Leslie," said the woman
with a forced laugh. " I go with my basket to get a few of
the big mussels yonder for bait, and he talks to me like
that. There see," she continued, swinging round her
basket and taking out a handful of the shell fish, " that's the
sort, sir. Let me leave you a few, Master Luke Vine."

" I don't believe you. Poll. It would not be the first
time you were in a smuggling game. Remember that
month in prison ? "

" Don't be hard on a poor woman," said Poll. " It was
only for hiding a few kegs of brandy for a poor man."

" Yes, and you're doing it again. I shall just say a word
to the coast-guard, and tell them to have an eye on some of
the caves yonder."

" No, no ; don't. Master Luke, sir," cried the woman,
rising excitedly, and making the shells in her basket rattle.
" You wouldn't be so hard as to g2t me in trouble."

"There, Leslie," he said with a merry laugh ; "am I
right? Nice, honest creature this ! Cheating the revenue.
If it was not for such women as this, the fishermen wouldn't
smuggle."

" But it doesn't do any one a bit of harm, Master Luke,
sir. You won't speak to the coast-guard."

" Indeed, but I will," cried Uncle Luke ; " and have you
punished. If you had been honest your daughter wouldn't
have been charged with stealing down at my brother's."

" And a false charge too," cried the woman, ruffling up

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

249

angrily. Then changing her manner, " Now, Master Luke,
you wouldn't be so hard. Don't say a word to the coast-
guard."

"Not speak to them? Why time after time I've seen
you going off after some game."

*' And more shame for you to watch. I didn't spy on
you wlien you were down the town of a night, and 1 used
to run against you in the dark lanes by the harbour."

Uncle Luke started up with his stick in his hand, and a
curious grey look in his face.

'• Saw — saw me ! " he cried fiercely. " Why, you — but
there, I will not get out of temper with such a woman.
Do you hear? Go, and never come here again."

" Very well. Master Luke, sir, I'm going now," said the
woman, as she adjusted the strap across her forehead ;
' but you won't be so hard as to speak to the coast-guard.
Don't sir, please."

The woman spoke in a low, appealing way ; and after
trying in vain to catch Luke Vine's eye, she went slowly
up the hill.

" Bad lot — a bad family," muttered Uncle Luke uneasily,
as he glanced sharply up at Leslie from time to time.
" Good thing to rid the place of the hag. Begging at my
brother's place for food and things every time I've been
there. Yes. Good morning, Leslie, good morning."

He nodded shortly and went into the cottage, cutting
short all further attempts at being communicative.

Leslie walked steadily back up the hill to his works, and
had not been at his office five minutes before Poll Perrow's
basket was creaking outside.

'' I know you won't be so gashly hard on a poor woman,
Master Leslie," she said. " It arn't true about me getting
biandy, sir. Let me have a drop in the bottom of a bottle,
sir. You'll never miss it, and you don't know what good
you'll do a poor soul as wants it bad."

'' Look here," said Leslie, " I'll give you some on one
condition ; that you do not come here again to beg."

" Not if I can help it, sir ; but a well-off gentleman like
you will never miss a drop. A pint will be \ lenty, sir, in
as small a bottle as ycu cap."

Leslie could not help laughing at the woman's impu-
dence, but he said nothing, only went into the house and
returned with a pint bottle filled with the potent spirit.

t >

250

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

•

Jfi

" And bless you for it, Master Leslie ! " cried Poll Per-
row, with her eyes sparkling. *' Now, sir, only one liitic
thing more."

" No," said Leslie, sternly. " I have given you what
you asked ; now go."

" I only want you to put in a word for me to Master
Luke, sir. Don't let him speak to the coast-guard."

"Don't be alarmed ; the old man is too good-hcartcd to
do anything of the kind. But I should advise you to give
up all such practices. There, good-day."

"Good-day, and bless you, my son ! " cried Poll eagcily.
"I shan't forget this."

" I was foolish to give it to her," said Leslie to himself,
as he watched the woman's slowly retirinj' figure ; and then
he turned his eyes in the direction of the v ines', as it stood
peaceful and bright-looking on its shelf by the cliff, across
the intervening valley.

" Might venture to-night. Surely they would not think
it intrusive? Yes ; 1 will."

Duncan Leslie felt better after coming to this determi-
nation, and went busily about his work at the mine.

Poll Perrow went straight down into the little town and
then up the path at the back, trudging steadily along and
at a very good pace, till she saw about fifty yards in front
a figure going in the same direction.

" Miss Madlin ! " she said to herself. " I'd know her
walk anywhere. And all in black, too. Ah ! "

Poll Perrow stopped short with her mouth open.

" How horrid ! " she ejaculated. " It killed him then,
after all. Poor Master Van Heldre ! Poor Master Harrv
Vine ! "

She rubbed a tear away with her rough brown hand.
Then starting up, she made the mussels in her basket
rattle.

*' What nonsense ! " she said. *' Why Master Crampton
told me last night, and down the street, that Master ^'an
Heldre was much better, and he couldn't ha' died and Miss
Madlin gone in mourning since last night. They couldn't
ha' got the gownd made."

By this time Madelaine had reached the Vines' gate and
gone in.

" Phew ! "

Poll Perrow gave vent to a low whistle, something like
the cry of a gull.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

251

"Why, I know !" she muttered. '' Miss Madlin's gone
into mourning all along 'o Master Marry. Then my Liza's
a great goose. She was fond of him after all. Why ! only
tothmk!"

She turned off down a narrow path, so as to get round
to the back door, where she was met by Liza, looking very
red and angry.

'' Now, what have you come for again ? I saw you
coming as I let Miss Madlin in, and it's too bad."

" Oh, Liza, Liza ! " said the fish-woman, " what a wicked
girl you are to talk to your poor mother like that ! "

" I don't care whether it's wicked or whether it arn't
wicked, but I just tell you Miis : if you come begging again,
you may just go back, for you'll get nothing here. It's
disgraceful ; you taking to that."

" No, no, not begging, my dear," said Poll, staring at
her daughter's red-brown face, as if lost in admiration.
"Lor, Liza, what a hansum gal you do grow ! "

" Now, do adone, mother, and don't talk like that."

" I can't help it, Liza. I wonder half the fi'^her lads in
port arn't half mad after you."

" Now, mother, be quiet ; you'll have Miss Margreet
hear ! "

** Nay, she'll be down-stairs with the company, won't
she? Yes, Liza, you do grow more and more hansum
every day."

'• Then you oughtn't to tell me so, mother. It'll only
make me prouder than I am. Now, what do you want
again ? This is four times you've been here this week."

" Is it, my dear ? W^ell, you see, I've got some of them
big mussels as you're so fond on, and I brought you a few
to cook for your supper."

*' It's very good of you. Well, there ; give them to me,
and do please go."

" Yes, my dear, there you are. That's right. Haven't
got a bit o' cold meat, and a bit 0' bread you could give
me, have you, Liza ? "

" No, I haven't, mother ; and you ought to be ashamed
to ask."

" So I am, my dear, almost. But you have got some, or
lialf a chicken and some ham."

" Chicken ! Oh, the idea ! "

" Yes. There's a good girl ; and if there's a bit 0' cold

%vv

THE HAUTE XO/iLESSE.

ilr-vl

'■■ ^ '"'■ ' '4'

puddcn, or anything else, let's have it too I'ut it all
togetlicr in a cloth."

" Now, mother, I won't. It's stealing, and I siioulcl
feel as if I'd stole it."

" Oh, what a gal you are, Liza ! Why, didn't I wash,
and iron, and bring home that last napkin, lookihg white
as snow ? "

" Yes, but—"

" And so I will this."

" But you won't bring back the cold chicken and ham,"
retorted Liza.

" Why, how could I, my dear ? You know they won't
keep."

" Well, once for all, mother, I won't, and there's an end
of it."

" You'll break my heart, Liza, 'fore you've done,''
whimpered the fish-woman. " Think o' the days and clays
as I've carried you 'bout in this very basket, when I've
been out gathering mussels or selling fish."

" Now, don't talk stuff, mother. You weared out half-
a-dozen baskets since then."

** P'r'aps I have, Liza, but I haven't weared out the
feeling that you're my gal, as lives here on the fat o' the
land, and hot pu:.Mens every day, and refuses to give your
poor mother a bit o' broken wittle to save her from starving.
Oh!"

" Mo*:!>er, Jon't ! " cried Liza, stamping her foot. " If
you cry like that they'll hear you in the j^arlour,"

" Then _;^ive m a bit o' something to eat, and let me go."

" I won't, and that's tlat, mother."

*' Then I shall sit down on the front door-step, and I'll
wait till Miss Louy comes ; and she'll make you give me
something. No, I won't ; I'll stop till cook comes. Where
is she ? "

" A cleaning herself."

"Then I shall wait."

" Oh, dear I oh, dear ! " cried Li.ra. stamping about, and
speaking in a tearful whisjier. " i do wish I never hadn't
had no mother, that I do."

"There's a ungrateful gal," said the fish-woman ; "and
you growed up so beautiful, and me so proud on you."

" Well, will you promise to go away, mother, and nevtr
come and ask no more if I give you something this time ? '

THE IIAVTE XOni.ESSE.

253

" To be sure I will, my dear, of course. There, be quick,
before any one comes, and do it up neat in a napkin,
there's a good gal, and I'll bring you a lobster next tune I

come.

" There, now, and you promised you wouldn't come no

more.

" Ah, well, I won't then, my dear."

"Then I'll get you a bit this time ; but mind, never no
more."

" No, never no more, my beauty. Only be (juick."

Liza disapp'^ared, and Poll Perrow took off her basket
and sat down on the edge, rubbing her knees and laughing
heartily to herself, but smoothing her countenance again
directly, as she heard her daughter's step.

"There, mother," whispered Liza, "and I feel just as if
there was the police after me, same as tiicy was after
Master Harry. This is the last time, mind."

"Yes, my beauty, the last time. AVIiat is there?"

" No, no, don't open it," cried the girl, laying her hand
sharply upon the parcel she had given to her mother.
" There's half a pork pie, and a piece of seed cake, and a
bit o' chicken."

"Any bread?"

" Yes, lots. Now hide it in your basket, and go."

" To be sure I will, Liza." And the white napkin and
its contents were soon hidden under a piece of fishing-net.
" There, good-bye, my dear. You'll be glad you've helped
your poor old mother, that you will, and — Good mornin',
Miss Margreet."

" Put that basket down," said the old lady sharply, as
she stood gazing imperiously at the detected pair.

" Put the basket down, miss ? "

" Yes, directly. I am glad I came down and caught you
in the act. Shameful ! Disgraceful I Liza, take out that
parcel of food stolen from my brother."

" No, no. Miss Margreet, only broken wittles, as would
be thrown away."

Liza stooped down, sobbing, and pulled the bundle out
of the basket.

" I always said you'd be the ruin of me, mother," she
sobbed.

" No, no, my dear," cried the woman ; " Miss Margreet
won't be hard on us. Let m,^ have it, miss, do please."

" Go away ! " cried Aunt Marguerite fiercely.

254

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

" Pray, pray do, miss," cried the woman imploringly.

" Go away, I say ! " cried Aunt Marguerite, '' and if you
set foot on these premises again, you shall leave with the
police. Go."

Poor Liza stood inside the door, sobbing, with the
bundle of good things neatly pinned up in her hand, while
Aunt Marguerite stood pointing imperiously with her
closed fan, as if it were a sceptre, till Poll Perrow, with
her basket swung once more upon her back, disappeared
out of the gate.

** Now, madam," said Aunt Marguerite, *' the moment
that young person in the drawing-room has gone, you shall
receive your dismissal, and in disgrace."

CHAPTER XXXIX.

A MEETING IN PAIN.

George Vine sat in his easy chair in front of the fire-place,
gazing at the cut paper ornaments and willow shavings,
and seeing in them the career of his son, and the dismal
scene in the churchyard, with the rain falling and making
little pearls on the black coffin cloth.

He had not spoken for hours, but from time to time,
as Louise laid her hand upon his arm, he had slowly taken
and pressed it between his own before raising it with a
sigh to his lips.

" Don't speak to me, my darling," he had pleaded to
her when he first took his place there that morning. " I
want to think."

She had respected his prayer, and in her endeavours to
take her thoughts from the horrors which oppressed her
she had stolen into her father's study, as an idea struck
her, but only to come away sadly. Her visit had been too
late ; the cherished collection of marine objects were one
and all dead.

Her father looked up as she returned. He had not
seemed to notice her, but he kn-nv where she had been, and
as he gave her a questioning look Liza entered the room.

" Miss Van Heldre, miss."

Vine caught his child's hand, as if too weak for the

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

2SS

encounter ; but, as the closely-veiled figure in black crossed
the room quickly, and both realised the meaning of those
mourning garments, Louise burst into a wild fit of sobbing,
and turned away for a moment, but only to be clasped in
Madelaine's arms.

There was an earnest, loving embrace, and then Made-
line turned to Vine, laying her hands upon his breast,
and kissing him as a child would its parent.

" So much better," she said, in answer to the wistful,
inquiring look directed at her. " I have come to fetch you
both."

" To fetch us ? " faltered Vine with a horrified look.

" My father begs you will come to him. I am his am-
bassador. You will not refuse } "

*' I cannot meet him," said Vine in a faint voice full of
despair ; " and," he added to himself, " I could not bear it."

" He would come to you, but he is weak and suffering,"
said Madelaine as she laid her hand upon the stricken
man's arm. " Tell him I beg he will come to me,' he
said," she whispered. " You will not refuse, Mr. Vine?"

" No, I will not refuse. Louise, dear? "

" Yes, father, I will go with you," she said slowly ; and
in a few minutes she returned, ready for the walk, and
crossed to where her father sat holding Madelaine's hand.

As she entered he rose and met her.

" Louise, my child, must we go ? " he said feebly. " I
feci as if it where almost more than I can bear. Must we

go?"

" Yes," she replied gravely ; " we must go."

Vine bowed his head.

•'Come, my child," he said, turning to Madelaine, and
he was half way to the door when Aunt Marguerite en-
tered.

"Going out?" she said, shrinking from the sombre
figure in black.

" Yes, aunt."

''You must attend first to what I have to say, Louise.
Miss Van Heldre can, I daresay, wait."

^L^delaine bent her head and drew back.

''I have business with Mr. Van Heldre, Marguerite,"
said Vine more sternly tlian he had ever spoken to her
before. '.' You must v/ait till our return."

Aunt Marguerite's eyes flashed an indignant look at

256

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

f■^^

Madelaine, as the cause of this rebuff, and she drew b *k
with a stiff curtsey and walked slowly before them out of
the room.

George Vine gazed wildly round him as he walked ^i,<n'-
ly down the steep way toward the town. It seemed terri-
ble to him that in such a time of suffering and mowr.rning,
sea, sky, and earth should be painted in such lovely
colours. The heavy rain of the previous days setiaied to
have given a brilliancy to leaf and flower that be^^ore was
wanting ; and as, from time to time, he glanced wildly at
the rocky point, the scene of the tragedy of hi» life, the
waves were curling over, and breaking in irride-icent foam
upon the rocks, to roll back in silvery cataracts to the sea.

He turned away his eyes with a shudder, fighting hard
to keep his thoughts from the horrors of that; night ; but
he was doomed to have them emphasised, for, just before
reaching the foot of the steep way, the little party came
suddenly upon the great burly fisherman, who had under-
taken to sail across to St. Malo with the fugitive that
night.

" Mornin', master," he said.

Vine turned ghastly pale, and his brain reeled ; but he
soon recovered himself.

" Louise, Madelaine, my children, go on, and I will
follow."

Louise looked at him appealingly ; but he was perfectly
firm, and she went on with her friend.

" I fear, in the midst of my trouble, Perrow, that I had
forgotten my engagement with you."

" Like enough, master, no wonder. There was no
hurry."

" Yes, but there is," said Vine slowly. " Will you come
to my house to-night or to-morrow morning ? and I'll give
you my cheque to take to the bank."

" For how much ? " said the man eagerly.

" One hundred pounds ; the amount I promised you."

" Ay, but that was for taking the poor boy across. No,
Master Vine, we've been talking it over, the five on us,
and there's the boat, and one night's fishing gone as might
have been a good one or it mightn't been nothing ; so
we're going to ask you to pay us a pound aniece."

<' But "

" Good day, Master Vine, busy now. I'll come on in
a day or two."

I, A

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

257

The man turned away abruptly, and, with his brow
heavily wrinkled, as he felt moved by the man's generosity,
Vine walked slowly on, and overtook Louise and Made-
laine.

Mrs. Van Heldre was waiting v. tie hall as the little
party entered, and she hurried fci^vard with extended
hands, and her lips parted to speak, but no words would
came. She could only press her old friend's hand before
leading him up to where Van Heldre lay, his face ghastly
pale beneath his bandaged head.

As they entered he held out his hand to Vine, who stood
gazing at him without an attempt to accept the friendly
grip.

" Louise, my child," said Van Heldre, turning to her ;
and she stepped quickly across to take the extended hand.
" Now leave us," he said quietly ; and, in obedience to his
wish, the rest quitted the room.

•' You did not take my hand, George Vine," said Van
Heldre, as soon as they were alone.

" How can I, after the wrong you have received at
mine } "'

" Hah ! that is why I sent for you," said Van Heldre.
" I have lain here insensible and ignorant of what was
done, else those proceedings would never have been taken.
You have much to forgive me, Vine."

" You have much to forgive me," said the latter slowly.

" Then take my hand, and let us forgive, if there is any
call for such a proceeding on eitlier side. Vine, old friend,
how you must have suffered, and I not there to say one
kindly w rd ! "

" Van Heldre," said Vine slowly, as, holding his friend's
hand, he slowly seated himself by the bed's head, "did you
ever know what it was to pray for death ? "

" Thank Heaven, no," replied Van Heldre with a slight
shudder, for there was something weird and strange about
his old friend's manner. " Since I have regained my senses
I have prayed to live. There seems so much to be done
at times like this. But, Vine, old friend, what can I say to
you? For pity's sake don't look at me like that ! "

" Look at you — like that? " said Vine slowly.

" Yes ; your eyes seem so full of rej)roach. I tell you,
my dear old fellow, that I would rather have died than that
ixior boy should have been j)rosecuted for my sake."

S 9

\ ■'

•}' (■ ' '', ' -Vt,

258

Ty/i? ^^ t/r^ NOBLESSE.

" I know everything," said Vine slowly. " I do not
reproach you, John. I reproach myself, and at times it
seems more than I can bear."

" Louise," said Van Heldre softly.

" Louise ? Ah, Louise ! " said Vine eagerly. " Without
her I must have died."

The two old friends sat, hand clasped in hand, in perfect
silence for quite an hour before there was a gentle tap at
the door, and Madelaine entered.

" He is so weak yet, Mr. Vine," she said, taking and
separating their hands.

" Madelaine — my child ! "

" Mr. Vine may come again in the evening for a little
while," said Madelaine, smiling, as she bent down, and
kissed her father's brow,

" So stern and tyrannical," protested Van Heldre.

" Only to make you well, father," replied Madelaine
smiling ; and she led their old friend from the room.

" He spoke as if he wanted my forr^iveness," said Vine as
he walked slowly back, noting as they went the kindly
deference paid to them by those they met.

" Mr. Van Heldre, fadier? " said Louise gently.

" Did I speak aloud, my child? "

" Yes, dear."

" Ah, these thoughts are too keen, and will not be
crushed down. Yes, child, yes. My forgiveness, when it
is I who should plead, for all the honors of the past, plead
for his forgiveness, Louise. He must have suffered terribly
to be brought down to this."

Louise looked wistfully in her father's face, whose sunken
cheeks and hollow eyes tol^ of mental suffering greater far
than that which their friend had been called upon to bear.

"Will time heal all this agony and pain?" she asked
herself; and it was with a sigh of relief that she reached
the gate, and her father went straight to his chair, to sit
down and stare straight before him at the unlit grate, as if
seeing in the burning glow scene after scene of the past, till
he started excitedly, for there was a ring at the gate bell.

Louise rose to lay her hand upon his shoulder.

** Only some visitors, or a letter," she said tenderly.

" I thought — I thought it might be news," he said
wearily. " But no, no, no. There can be no news now."

" Mr. Leslie, miss," said Liza from the door.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

" To see me, Liza ? Say that "

" No, sir. In the drawing-room, sir.

259

*Tis to see Miss
Louise, if she will give him an interview, he said."

Louise looked wildly at her father.

" Must I see him, father ? " she said, with her face now
ghastly pale.

He did not answer for some moments, and then slowly
said the one word : —

" Yes."

She bent down and kissed him, and then summoning up
all her courage, slowly left the room.

:.i

CHAPTER XL.

DUNCAN LESLIE SPEAKS OUT.

Duncan Leslie was standing at a table on which was a
photograph of Louise, as she entered the room silently ;
and as, after a long contemplation of the counterfeit, he
drew a long breath, and looked up to see the object of his
thoughts standing just inside the doorway, too much
agitated to give notice of her presence, he coloured like a
boy caught in some act of which he was ashamed.

" Miss Vine," he cried, advancing quickly with extended
hands.

Louise did not speak, but slowly raised one hand for
him to take, and suffered him to lead her to a chair.

He remained standing, before her as she looked up at
him in a wild, frightened manner, as if imploring him not
to speak, and for a few moments silence reigned.

" You will forgive me," said Leslie, at last, " if my visit
is ill-timed, for I am a busy man, ill-versed in the etiquette
of such matters. I was in a dilemma. I wished to try
and show my sympathy, and I was afraid to stay away for
fear of seeming neglectful."

" Mr. Leslie need have been under no apprehension,"
said Louise slowly, and speaking as if sorrow had
exhausted itself, and there was nothing left but resignation.
" My father and I have thought very deeply, and can
never be sufficiently grateful for all that has been done."

" You have suffered so," he said in a low voice, " that I

260

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

am going to beg of you not to refer to the past. Of course,
I know," he addded quickly, " how easy it is to speak pla-
titudes — how hard to express what one feels at a time like
this."

*' Mr. Leslie need not speak," said Louise quietly. " He
has shown his sympathy in a way that no words can
express."

Leslie gazed down at the piteous, sorrow-stricken face
before him ; and, as if wrenching himself away, he walked
to the window, and stood gazing out for a few moments
while Louise sat watching him, and fighting hard with lur
emotions. She felt weakened by all that had gone by,
and as if, had he extended his arms to her, she could have
flown to him, nestled in his breast, and begged him to lu'lp
her in this terrible strait. And yet all the time her
sorrow had strengthened, as well as enfeebled, for she was
able to master her weakness and follow out the course she
had planned.

Leslie returned to her side.

" I must speak," he said hoarsely. " It is not cruelty
at a time like this ; it is the desire to help, to console, to
be near you in distress. Miss Vine — Louise — you — forgive
me for saying it — you must have known that for months
past 1 have loved you."

She looked up at him wistfully, and there was a look of
such pain and sorrow in her eyes that he paused, and took
the hand which she resigned to him without shrinking, but
only to send a thrill of pain through him, for the act was
not that of one accepting the offer of his love.

" Yes," she said after a painful pause, " I did think that
you must care for me."

" As I do," he whispered earnestly, " and is this my
excuse for speaking now ? No ; don't shrink from me. I
only ask you to think of me as one whose sole thought is
of you, and of how he may help and serve you."

*' You have helped us in every way," she said sadly.

" I have tried so hard," he said huskily ; " but every-
thing has seemed little compared to what I wished ; and
now — it is all I ask : you will let this formal barrier
between us be cast away, so that in everything I may be
your help and counsellor. Louise, it is no time to talk ; t
love," he cried earnestly, " and my wooing is that ot a
rough, blunt man ; and — don't shrink from me — only tell

THE HAVTE XOni.ESSE.

261

me thnt S(3inf' day, v/iicii all this luilii and suffering has
been softened by time, 1 ruay ask you to listen to me ;
and now that I may go away feeUng you believe in my
love and sympathy. You will tell me this? "

She softly drew away her hand, giving him a look so full
of pity and sorrow that a feeling akin to despair made his
heart swell within his breast. He had read of those who
resigned the world with all its hopes and j)leasures from a
feeling that their time was short here, and of death .jed
farewells, and there was so much of this in Louise's
manner that he became stricken and chilled.

It was only by a tremendous effort over self that he was
able to summon up the strength to s])eak ; and, in ])lace
of the halting, hesitating words of a few minutes before, he
now spoke out earnestly and well.

" Forgive me," he said ; and she trembled as f,he shrank
away to cover her eyes with her hand. " It was folly on
my part to speak to you at such a time, but my love is
stronger than worldly forms, and though I grieve to have
given you pain, I cannot feel sorry that I have spoken the
simjjle, honest truth. You are too sweet and true to deal
lightly with a man's frank, earnest love. Forgive me — say
good-bye. I am going away patiently — to wait."

His manner changed as he took her disengaged hand
and kissed it tenderly and respectfully.

" I will not ask to see your father to-day. He is, I.
know, suffering and ill ; but tell him from me he has only
to send a messenger to bring me here at once. I want to
help him in every way. Good-bye."

" Stop ! •'

He was half way to the door when that one word
arrested him, and with a sense of delicious joy flooding
his breast, he turned quickly to listen to the words which
would give him a life's happiness. The flash of joy died
out as quickly as that of lightning, and in the same way
seemed to i^ave the hope that had arisen scathed and
dead. For here was no mistaking that look, nor the tone
of the voice which spoke what seemed to him the death
warrant of his love.

'' I could not speak," she said in a strange low voice
fall of the pain she suffered. " I tried to check you, but
the words would not come. What you ask is impossible ;
1 could not promise. It would be cruel to you — unjust,
and it would raise hopes that could never be fulfilled."

262

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

" No, no. Don't say that," he cried appeah'ngly.
have been premature. I should have waited patiently."

" It would have been the same. Mr. J^cslie, you should
not have asked this. You should not have exposed your-
self to the pain of a refusal, me to the agony of being forced
to speak."

" I grant much of what you say,'' he pleaded. "Forgive
me."

" Do not misunderstand me," she continued, after a
brave effort to master her emotion. " After what has
passed it would be impossible. I have but one duty now :
that of devoting myself to my f.ithcr."

" You feel this," he pleaded ; " and you are speaking
sincerely ; but wait. Pray say no more — now. There :
let me say good-bye."

" No," she said sternly ; " you shall not leave me under
a misapprehension. It has been a struggle that has been
almost too great ; but I have won the strength to speak.
No; Mr. Leslie, it is impossible."

** No, Mr. Leslie, it is impossible ! " The words were
like a thin, sharp echo of those spoken by Louise, and they
both started and turned, to see that Aunt Marguerite had
entered the room, and had not only heard her niece's refusal
of Leslie, but gathered the full import of the sentence.

She stood drawn up half way between them and the door,
looking very handsome and impressive in her deep mourn-
ing ; but there was the suggestion of a faint sneering smile
upon her lip, and her eyes were half closed, as with hands
crossed over her breast, she seemed to point over her
shoulder with her closed black fan.

"Aunt ! " exclaimed Louise. " How could "

Her strength was spent. She could say no more. Her
senses seemed to reel, and with the impression upon her
that if she stayed she would swoon away, she hurried from
the room, leaving Leslie and the. old woman face to face.

He drew a long breath, set his teeth, and meeting Aunt
Marguerite's angry look firmly, he bowed, and was about
to quit the house.

" No, not yet." she said. " I'm no eaves-dropper, Mr.
Leslie ; but 1 felt bound to watch over that poor motherless
girl. It was right that I should, for in spite of all my hints,
I may say my plain speaking regarding my child's future,
you* have taken advantage of her helplessness to press for-
ward your suit."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

363

"Miss Vine."

" Miss Marguerite Vine, if you please, Mr. Leslie," said
the lady with a ceremonious how.

** Miss Marguerite Vine then," cried Leslie angrily, " I
cannot discuss this matter with you : I look to Mr. Vine."

" My brother is weak and ill. I am the head of this
family, sir, and I have before now told you my intentions
respecting my niece."

" Yes, madam, but you are not her father."

" I am her father's sister, and if my memory serves me
rightly, I told you that Monsieur de Ligny "

" Who is Monsieur de Ligny ? " said Vine entering the
room slowly.

" Mr. Vine, I mast appeal to you," cried Leslie.

" No. It would be indecorous. I have told Mr. Leslie,
who has been persecuting Louise with his addresses, that
it is an outrage at such a time ; and that if our child mar-
ries there is a gentleman of good French lineage to be
studied. That his wishes are built upon the sand, for
Monsieur de Ligny "

" Monsieur do Ligny ? "

" A friend of mine," said Aunt Marguerite quickly.

" Mr. Vine," said Leslie hotly, " [ cannot stay here to
discuss this matter with Miss Vine."

'* Miss Marguerite Vine," said the old lady with an
aggravating smile.

Leslie gave an impatient stamp with one foot, essayed
to speak, and choking with disappointment and anger,
failed, and hurried out of the house.

" Such insufferable insolence ! And at a time like this,"
cried Aunt Marguerite, contemptuously, as her brother with
a curiously absorbed look upon his face began to pace the
room.

" He has sent the poor girl sobbing to her room."

" Louise has not engaged herself to this man. Margue-
rite ? "

" Engaged herself. Pah ! You should have been here.
Am I to sit still and witness another wreck in our unhappy
family through your weakness and imbecility? Mr. Leslie
has had his answer, however. He will not come again."

She swept out of the room, leaving her brother gazing
vacantly before him,

'* She seems almost to have forgotten poor Harry. I

{ \

264

yy/A- HAUTE NOIiLESSE,

thought she would have taken it more to heart. But
Monsieur de Viv^wy — Monsii'ur dc Ligny ? I cannot
think. Another time I shall remember all, I daresay. Ah.
my darling," he cried eagerly, as Louise re-entered the
room. " You heard what Mr. Leslie said ? "

" Yes, father."

" And refused him? "

"Yes."

Her father took her hand, and stood trying to collect his
thoughts, which, as the result of the agony from which he
had suffered, seemed now to be beyond control.

"Yes," he said at last, " it was right. You could not
acce])t Mr. Leslie now. But your aunt said "

He looked at her vacantly with his hand to his head.

" What did your aunt say about your being engaged?"

" Pray, pray, (\.<i nut speak to me about it, dear," said
Louise, piti ously. " I cannut bear it. Feather, 1 wish to
be v/ith you — to help and comfort, and to find help and
comfort in your arms."

" Yes," he said, folding her to his breast ; ** and you are
suffering and . It is not the first time that our peoi)le
have been called upon to suffer, my child. But your
aunt "

*' Pray dearest, not now — not now," whispered Louise,
laying her brow against his cheek.

" I will say no more," he said tenderly. " Yes, to be niy
help and comftjrt in all this trouble and distress. You are
right, it is no time for thinking of such things as that."

CHAPTER XLL

AUNT MARGUERITE MAKES PLANS.

" I COULD not — I could not. A wife should accept her
husband, proud of him, proud of hers-. If, the gift she gives
him with her love ; and I should havi been his disgrace.
Impossible ! How could I have ever looked him bravely
in the face ? I should have felt that he must recall the
past, and repented when it was too late."

So mused Louise Vine as she sat trying to work that
same evening after a wearisome meal, at which Aunt M;u-

THE riArrr. vop/.r.ssE.

265

gucritc had taken her j)la(:c to rouse them from their des-
pondent stale. So she e\i)resse(l ii. and tlie result had
been painful in the exlrenu'.

Aunt Marguerite's remedy was change, and she proposed
that they shcjuld all go for a toui to tlio south of France.

" Don't shake > our head, George," she said. '• Vou arc
not a coninion i)erson. The lov/er classes — tlu' uneducated
of ' ourse — go on nursing their troubles, but it is a duty
wiili i)eople of our positi^ai to suffer and be strong. So
put the trouble behind us, and show a brave face to thy
world, Vou hear this, Louise ? "

"Yes, aunt," said Louise, sadly.

'• Then pray listen to it as if you took some interest in
what I said, and meant to profit by it, child."

Louise murmured some thing suggestive of a promise to
pr )fil by her aunt's wisdom, and the old lady turned to her
brother.

"Yes, George, I have planned it all out. We will go to
the south of France, to the sea-side if you wish, and while
Louise and 1 try and find a little relaxation, you can dabble
and net strange things out of the water-pools. Girl ; be
careful."

This to ])oor Liza, whose ears seemed to be red-hot, and
her cheeks alternately flushed and pale, as she brought in
and took out the dinner, waiting, at other times being dis-
l)cnsed with fortunately F'or Liza's wits were wool-gather-
ing, according to Aunt ^Largue rite's theory, and in her
agitation resi)ecting the manner in which slie had been
surjjrised, when yieldmgto her mother's importunities, she
was constantly waiciiinfr the faces of her master and
Louise, and calculating the chances for and against
ignominious dismissal. One mmvite she told herself they
knew all. 'Hie next minute her heart ive a thump of
satisfiiction, for Louise's sad eyes hid looked so kindly in
hers, that Liza told herself her young mistress either did not
know or was going to forgive her.

Directly after L.iza dropped the cover of a vegetable
dish in her agitation right on Aunt ^Lirguerite's black silk
crape-trimmed dress, for 'ler master had told her to bring
him bread, and in a tone of voice which thrilled through
her as he looked her in the face with, according to her
idea, his eyes seeming to say, " This is some of the bread
you tried to steal."

i66

THE HAUTE NOULESSE,

Liza escaped from the room as soon as possible, and
was relieving her pent-up feelings at the Lack door wlicu
she heard her name whispered.

♦'Who's there? what is it?" she said.

" It's only mc, Liza, my dear. Has she told "

"Oh, mother! Vou siiouidn't," sobbed r,i/a. '' Voii
won't be hajtpy till you've got me put in prison."

" Nonsense, my dear, they won't do that. Never you
fear. Now look here. What became of that parcel you
made up ? "

" I don't know ; I've been half wild ever since, and I
don't know how it's going to end."

*' Then I'll tell you," cried the old fish-woman. " You've
got to get me that i)arcel, or else to m;ike me up another '

" I won't ; there ! " cried Liza angrily.

*♦ How dare you say won't to your mother, miss I " said
the old woman angrily. " Now look here ; I'm going a
bit farther on, and then I'm coming back, and I shall
expect to find the napkin done up all ready. If it isn't
you'll see."

Liza stood with her mouth open, listening to her
mother's retiring footste]>s ; and then with a fresh burst of
tears waiting to be wiped away, she ran in to answer the
bell, and clear away, shivering the while, as she saw that
Aunt Marguerite's eyes were fixed upon her, watching
every movement, and seeming to threaten to reveal what
had been discovered earlier in the day.

Aunt Marguerite said nothing, however, then, foi her
thoughts were taken up with her project of living away for
a time. She had been talking away pretty rapidly, first to
one and then to the other, but rarely eliciting a reply; but
at last she turned sharply upon her brother.

*♦ How soon shall we be going. George ? "

"Going? Where?" he replied dreamily.

** On the Continent for our change."

" We shall not go on the Continent, Marguerite," he
said gravely. '• I shall not think of leaving here."

Aunt Marguerite rose from the table, and gazed at her
brother, as if not sure that she had heard aright. Lhtn
she turned to her niece, to gaze at her with questioning
eyes, but to gain no information there, for Louise gazed
down at the work she had taken from a stand.

" Did you understand what your father said ? " she
asked sharply.

THE JIAUTE AVBLESSE.'

267

"Yes, aunt."

" And j)ray wliat did he say ? "

'• Tliat lie would nol go on the Continent."

" What ? "

" That he would not leave home with this terrible weight
ujion his mind."

Aunt Marguerite sat bolt upright in her chair for a few
moments without speaking, and the look she gave her
brother was of the most withering nature.

" Am i to understand," she said at last, " that you
])refer to stay here and visit and nurse your Dutch
friend ? "

Her brother looked at her, but there was no trace of
anger in his glance.

Aunt Marguerite lowered her eyes, and then turned
them in a supercilious way upon Louise.

" May I count upon your companionship," she said,
*' if I decide to go through Auvergne and stay there for a
few days, on my way to Hyeres.

" If you go, aunt ? " said Louise wonderingly.

*' There is a certain estate in the neighbourhood of Mont
d'Or," she continued ; " I wish to see in what condition
it is kept. These things seem to devolve now on me who
am forced to take the lead as representative of our
neglected family."

" For Heaven's sake. Marguerite ! " cried Vine impe-
tuously. " No — no, no," he muttered, checking himself
hastily. " i:c\\?r not — better not."

"I 'eg vouv pardon, brother," she said, raising her
glass.

'' ^ oi hing- • '■ othing," he replied.

raise, child, I am waiting," she continued,
turning her eyes in a half pitying, condescending way upon
Ikt niece. *' Well? i\Lay I count upon you ? "

" Aunt dear "

" It will do you good. You look too pale. This place
crushes you down, and narrows your intellect, my child.
A little French society would work a vast change in you."

"Aunt, dear," said Louise, rising and crossing to her to
lay her hands ujjon the old lady's shoulder, " don't talk
about such things now. Let me come up to your room,
and read to you a little while."

Aunt Marguerite smiled.

268

771 E HAUTE NOBLESSE.

" My dear Louise, why do you ta'k to me like this ? Do
you take mc for a cliild ? "

George Vine heaved a deep sigh, and turned in his
chair.

" Do you think I have lived all these years in the world
and do not know what is best for sucli a girl as you ? "

"But indeed, aunt, 1 am not ill. I do not require a
change."

*' Ah, poor young obstinacy I I must take you well in
hand, child, and see if I cannot teach you to comport
yourself more in accordance witji your position in life. I
shall have time nijw, especially during our little journey.
When would it be convenient for you to be ready ? "

" Aunt dear ! It is impossible ; we could not go."

" Impossible ? Then I must speak. You will be ready
in three days from now. I feel that I require change, and
we will go."

" Margaret ! " cried \'ine, who during the past few
minutes had been writhing in his seat, *' how can you be
FO absurd ! "

" Poor (ieorge ! " she said, with a sigh, as she rose from
her chair. " I wish I could persuade him to go. Mind,
Louise, my child, in three days from now. We shall go
straight to Paris, ])crhaps for a month. Yoi need not
trouble about dress. A few necessaries. All that you
will recpiire we can get in Paris. Come in before you go
to bed, I may have a few more words to say."

She sailed shnvly across the room, waving her fm
gently, as if it were a wing wliicli helped her i)rogress, as
she preserved her graceful carriage. Then the door closed
behind her, and Louise half ran to her father's side.

*' Shall I go up with her? " she whispered anxiously.

Her father shook his head.

"But did you not notice how strancfe slie seemed ?"

" No more strange, my dear, than slie has often been
before, after something has agitated her greatly. In lier
way she was very fond of ]>oor Harry."

" Yes. father, I know ; but I never saw her so agitated
as this."

" She will calm down, ns she has cahiied down befou.'

" But this idea of going abroad ? "

"Siie will forget il by to-morrow. I was wrong to
speak as I did. It only sets her thinking more seriously.

THE HAUTE NOBIJLSSE.

269

Poor Margaret ! We must be very patient and forbearing
with her. Her life was turned out of its regular course by
a terrible di;-appointment. I try always to remember this
wiien she is more eccentric — more trying tlian usual."

Louise shrank a little more round to the back of her
father's chair, as he drew her hand over his shoulder, and
she laid her cheek upon his head as, ,vith fixed eyes, she
gazed straight before her into futurity, and a spasm of pain
shot through her at her father's words, *' a terrible disap-
pointment," " eccentric." Had Aunt ^[arguerite ever
suffered as she suffered now? and did such mental agony
result in changing the whole course of a girl's young li<"3 ?

The tears stood in her eyes and dimmed them ; but in
spite of the blurring of her vision, she seemed to see her-
self gradually changing and growing old and eccentric too.
For was not she also wasting with a terrible disappoint-
ment — a blow that must be as agonizing as any Aunt Mar-
guerite could have felt }

'Jlie outlook seemed so blank and terrible that a strange
feeling of excitement came over her, waking dream succeed-
ing waking dream, each more painful than the last ; but
she was brought back to the present by her father's voice.

'' Why, my darling," he said, *' your hand is quite cold,
and you tremble. Come, come, come, you ought to know
Aunt Margaret by now. There, it is time I started for
^'an Heldre's. I faithfully promised to go back this
evening. Perhaps Luke will be there."

" Yes, father," she said, making an effort to be calm, " it
is time you went down. Give my dear love to Madelaine."

" F'.h? Give your love? why, you are coming too."

'• No, no," she said hastily ; " I — I am not well this

evenmg.

" No, you are not well," he said tenderly. " Your hands

arc icy, and — yes, I expected so, your forehead burns.

Why, my darling, you must not be ill."^

"Oh no, dear. I am not going to be' ill, I shall be quite

well to-morrow."

" Then come with me. The change will do you good."

" No ; not to-night, father. I would rather stay."

" But Madelaine is in sad trouble, too, my child, and she

ss\\\ be greatly disai>pointcd, if you do not come."
" Tell her 1 felt too unwell, dear," said Louise implor-

istence seemed to trouble her

^giy

270

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

'1 '

more and more ; and he looked at her wonderingly, she
seemed so agitated.

'* But I don't like to leave you like this, my child."

*' Yes, yes ; please go, dear. I shall be so much better
alone. There, it is growing late. You will not stop very
long."

" No ; an hour or two. I nmst be guided by circum-
stances. If that man is there — I cannot help it — I shall
stay a very short time."

''That man. father?"

** Yes," said Vine, with a shudder. " Crampton. He
makes me shiver whenever we meet."

His face grew agonized as he spoke ; and he rose hastily
and kissed Louise.

" You will not alter your mind and come ? " he said
tenderly.

" No, no, father ; pray do not press me. I cannot go
to-night."

** Strange ! " said George Vine thoughtfully. " Strange
that she should want to stay."

He had crossed the little rock garden, and closed the gate
to stand looking back at the old granite house, dwelling
sadly upon his children, and mingling thoughts of the dc
termined refusal of Louise to come, with projects which he
had had in petto for the benefit of his son.

He shuddered and turned to go along the level platform
cut in the great slope before beginning the rapid descent.

CHAPTER XLIL

A STARTLrNG VISITATION.

" Fine night, master, but gashly dark," said a gruff voice,
as Vine was nearly at *he bottom of the slope.

" Ah, Perrow ! Yes, very dark," said Vine quietly.
*' Not out with your boat to-night ? "

''No, Master Vine, not to-night. Sea brimes. Why,
if we cast a net to-night every mashi would look as if it w;is
a-firc. Best at liomc night like this. Going down town ? "

*' Yes, Perrow."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

%ft

" Ah, you'll be going to see Master Van Heldre. You
don't know, sir, how glad my mates are as he's better.
Good night, sir. You'll ketch up to Master Leslie if you
look sharp. He come up as far as here and went back."

" Thank you. Good night,'* said Vine, and he walked
on, but slackened his pace, for he felt that he could not
meet Leslie then. The poor fellow would be suffering from
his rebuff, and Vine shrank from listening to any appeal.

But he was fated to meet Leslie all the same, for at a
turn of the steep path he encountered the young mine-
owner coming towards him, and he appeared startled on
finding who it was.

" Going out, Mr. Vine ? " he stammered. " I was
coming up to the house, but — er — never mind ; I can call
some other time."

" I would turn back with you, only I promised to go
down to Mr. Van Heldre's to-night."

" Ah, yes, to Van Heldre's," said Leslie confusedly.
" I'll walk with you if you will not mind."

" I shall be glad of your company," said Vine quietly ;
and they continued down to the town, Leslie very thought-
ful, and Vine disinclined to converse.

'^ No, I am not going in, Mr. Vine. Will you let me
come and say a few words to you to-morrow ? "

■ Yes," replied Vine gently.

He had meant to speak firmly and decisively, but a
feeling of pity and sympathy for the young man, whose
heart he seemed to read, changed his tone. It had been in
his heart, too, to say, " It will be better if you do not
come," but he found it impossible, and they parted.

Leslie hesitated as soon as he was alone. What should
he do? Go home? Home was a horrible desert to him
now ; and in his present frame of mind, the best thing he
could do was to go right off for a long walk. liy fatiguing
the body he would make the brain ask for rest, instead of
keeping up that whirl of anxious thought.

He felt that he must act. That was the only way to find
oblivion and repose from the incessant thought which
troubled him. He started off with the intention of weary-
ing his muscles, so as to lie down that night and win the
sleep to which he was often now a stranger.

His first intent was to go rip;ht up by the cliff-path, by
Uncle Luke's, and over the hill by his own place, but if he

272

yV/Ji IIAUTK NOBLESSE.

went that way there was the possibiHty of finding Uncle
Luke leaning over the wall, gazing out at the starlit sea,
and probably he would slop and question him.

That night his one thought was of being alone, and he
took the opposite direction, went down to the ferry, hunted
out the man from the inn hard by, and had himself rowed
across the harbour, so as to walk along the cliff eastwards,
and then strike in north and round by the head of the
estuary, where he could recross by the old stone bridge,
and reach home — a walk of a dozen miles.

At the end of a couple of miles along the rugged path-
way, where in places the greatest care was needed to avoid
going over some precipitous s])ot to the shore below,
Leslie stopped short to listen to the hollow moaning sound
of the waves, and he seated himself close to the cliff edge,
in a dark nook, which formed one of the sheltered look-
outs used by the coastguard in bad weather.

The sea glittered as if the surface were of polished jet,
strewn with diamonds, and, impressed by the similarity of
the scene to that of the night on which the search had been
carried on after Harry Vine, Leslie's thoughts went ba( k
to the various scenes which repeated themselves before
his mental gaze from the beginning to that terrible finale
when the reniains lay stark and disfigured in the inn shed,
and the saturated cards i)roclaimed who the dead man was.

'-Poor girl!" he said half aloud, "and with all that
trouble fresh upon her, and the feeling that she and h(.r
family are disgraced for ever, I go to her to press forward
my selfish, egotistical love. God forgive me ! What weak
creatures we men are."

He sat thinking, taking off his hat for the cool, moist
sea air to fan his feverish temples, when the solemn silence
of the starry night seemed 10 bring to him rest and repose
such as he had not enjoyed since the hour when Aunt
Marguerite planted that sharj), poisoned barb in his breast.

" It is not that," he said to himself, with a sigh lull of
satisfaction. '* She never felt the full force of love ^'ct for
any man, but if ever her gentle young nature turned
towards any one, it was towards me. And, knowing this,
I, in my imjiatience and want of consideration, contri\ed
my own downfall. No, not my downfall ; there is hope
yet, and a few words rightly spoke; i v 1; irvnove the past."

The feverish sensation was ])ayi'ng aw; y swiftly. The

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

273

moist
ilcnce
cpose
Aunt
ircast.
mil of
let for
miK'd

this,
|ri\c'(l
[hope
|)ast."

I'he

calm serenity of the night beneath the glorious dome of
stars was bringing with it restfiilness, and hope rose
strongly, as, far away in the east, he saw a glittering point
of light rise above tne sea slowly higher and higher, a
veritable star of hope to liim.

" What's that? " he said to himself, as heard above the
boom of the waves which struck below and then filled
some hollow and fell back with an angry hiss, he fancied
he heard a sob.

There was no mistake ; a woman was talking in a low,
moaning way, and then there came another sob.

He rose quickly.

" Is anything the matter ? " he said sharply.

" Ah ! Why, how you frightened me 1 Is that you,
Master Leslie? "

"Yes. Who is it? PollPerrow?"

"Yes, Master Leslie, it's me,"

" Why, what are you doing here ? " said Leslie, as cyni-
cal old Uncle Luke's hints about the smuggling flashed
across his mind.

*' Nothing to do with smuggling," she said, as if divining
his thoughts.

*' Indeed, old lady I Well, it looks very suspicious."

" No, it don't, sir. D'you think if I wanted to carry
any landed goods I should take 'em along the coastguard
path?"

"A man would not," said Leslie, "but I should say it's
just what a cunning old woman's brain would suggest, as
being the surest way to throw the revenue men off the
scent."

" Dessay you're right, Master Leslie, but you may search
me if you like. I've got nothing to-night."

" I'm not going to search you, old lady. I'll leave that
to the revenue men. But what's the matter? "

" Matter, Master Leslie? "

" Yes ; I heard you sobbing. Are you in trouble ? "

"Of course I am, sir. Aren't I a lone widow? "

" So vou have been these fifteen \ ears."

" Fourteen and three-quarters, sir."

" Ah, well, I was near enough. But what is it, old lady ?
Want a little money ? "

" No, no, no, ^^aster Leslie, sir ; and that's very kind of
you, sir ; and if I don't bring }ou up half-a-dozen of the

•1!

■'i

Jra

274

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

finest niack'rel that come in these next days, my name
aren't Perrow."

" Thank you. There, I d I't want to be inquisitive, but
it seems strange for a womaii Hke you to be crying away
here on the cHff two miles from home on a dark night."

" And it seems strange for a young gen'leman like you to
be up here all alone and three miles from home. You was
watching me. Master Leslie."

"You'll take my word, Poll Perrow," said Leslie/quietly.
" I did not know you were here."

** Yes, I'll believe you. Master Leslie, sir. But you was
watching someone else ? "

** No, I came for a walk, my good woman, that's all."

" Then I won't stop you, sir. Good night, sir."

" Good night," said Leslie ; and feeling more content,
he took out his cigar case, and after selecting one by feel-
ing he went back into the coastguard's station and struck
a match.

He looked along the cliff path as the match flashed, and
caught sight faintly of the old woman.

" Watching me anyhow," he said to himself, as he lit
his cigar. '' Now, what can that old girl be doing here?
She's fifty-five if she's a day, but if she is not courting and
had a quarrel with her youthful lover, I'm what that old
lady says that Van Heldre is — a Dutchman."

He turned back along the path feeling comparatively
light-hearted and restful. The long, dark, weary walk to
tire himself was forgotten, and he went slowly back along
the coastguard path, turning a little from time to time to
gaze over his left slioulder at the brilliant planet which rose
higher and higher over the glistening sea.

" Hope ! " he said half aloud. " What a glorious word
that is, and what a weary world this would be if there were
none ! Yes, I will hope."

He walked slowly on, wondering v/hether Poll Perrow
was watching and following him. Then he forgot all about
her, for his thoughts were fixed upon the granite house
across the estuary, and the sweet sad face of Louise half
in shadow, half lit by tiie soft glow of the shaded lamp.

" Mr. Vine will be l:.ack by now," he said. " I might
call in and ask how Van Heldre is to-night. It would be
sociable, and I should see her, and let my manner show
my sorrow for having grieved her and given her pain ; and,

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

275

Is il possible to let her sec that I am full of patient, abiding
hope, that some day she will speak differently to the way
in wiiich she spoke to-day ? Yes, a woman would read
all that, and I will be patient and guarded now."

It was astonishing how eager Duncan Leslie felt now to
see what news George Vine had brought from Van
Heldre's ; and with the beautiful absurdity of young men
in his position, he never allowed himself to think that when
he crossed the ferry he would be within a stone's throw of
the merchant's house, and that all he need do was to
knock and ask old Crarapton or Mrs. Van Heldre for the
latest bulletin, which would be gladly given.

It was so much easier to go on by the house, make for
the path which led up the steep slope, and go right to the
home on the shelf of the cliff, and ask there.

Meanwhile, Louise Vine had seated herself by the
dining-room table, with the light of the shaded lamp falling
athwart her glossy hair, and half throwing up her sweet
])alc face, just as Leslie had pictured it far away upon the
cliff Now and then her needle glittered, but only at rai'e
intervals, for she was deep in thought.

At times her eyes closed, and as she sat there bending
forward, it seemed as if she slept ; but her lips moved,
and a i)iteous sigh escaped her overladen breast.

The night seemed hot and oppressive, and she rose after
a time and unhasped the casement window, beneath the
old i)ainted glass coat-of-arms ; and, as she approached it,
dimly seen by the light cast from behind her, she shuddered,
for it struck her there was a black stain across the paint-
ing, and a shadowy dark mark obliterated the proud words
of the old family motto.

As she threw back the casement she stood leaning her
head against the window, gazing oiit into the starlit space,
and listening to the faint whisper of the coming tide.

While she listened it seemed to her that the faint boom
and rush of the water obliterated every other sound, as she
tried in vain to detect her father's step slowly ascending
the steep i)ath.

" Too soon — too soon," she said softly, and she returned
to her seat to try and continue her work, but the attempt
was vain. The light fell u])on her motionless hands holding
a piece of some black material, the thread was invisible, and
only at times a keen thin gleam of light betrayed the where-

t 4

276

THE HArrr. aoiu.ksse

abouts of the needle. Her sad eyes were fixed on the dark
opening of the window, through which she could see a
scarcely defined ))atch of starry sky, while the soft night
air gave her a feeling of rest, such as had come to the man
who had told her that he loved.

" Never more," she sighed at last ; " that is all passed.
A foolish dream."

Making an effort over herself, she resumed her work,
drawing the needle through quickly for a few moments,
and trying hard to dismiss Duncan Leslie from her thoughts.
As she worked, she pictured her father seated by Van
Heldre's side ; and a feeling of thankfulness came over
her as she thought of the warm friendship between her
elders, and of how firm and staunch Van Heldre seemed
to be. Then she thought of the home troubles with her
Aunt Marguerite, and her Cither's patient forben "an( e
under circumstances w^hich were a heavy trial to his
patience.

" Poor Aunt iSfarguerite ! " she sighed, as her hands
dropi)ed with her work, and she sat ga/ing across ih.;
table straight out at the starry heavens. *' How she loved
poor Harry in her w;iy ; and yet how soon he seems to
have passed out of her mind ! "

She sighed as the past came back with her brothers wil-
fulness and folly ; but, throwing these weaknesses into the
shade, there were all his frank, good (jualilies, his tender-
ness to her before the troubles seemed to wrench them
apart ; the hajjpy hours they had passed with Madeiaineas
boy and girls together ; all hapi)y days — gone for ever,
but which seemed to stand out now as i)arts of Harry's
life which were to be remembered to the exclusion of all
that was terrible and black.

" My brother I " she breathed, as she gazed straight out
seaward, and a faint smile ]»assed her lips ; "he loved me,
and I could always win him over to my side."

The thought seemed frozen in her brain, her Iialf-closed
eyes opened widely, the pupils dilated, and her lips parted
more and more, as she sat there fixed to her seat, the
chilly drops gathering on her white brow, and a thrill of
horror coursing through her veins. For as she looked she
seemed to have conjured up the countenance of her brother,
to gaze in there by the open casement — the face as shv* hud
seen it last — when he escaped from her bedroom, but not

THE II A UTE NOBLESSE,

277

flushed and excited ; it was now pale, the eyes hollow, and
his liair clinging unkempt ahout liis brow.

Was she awake, or was this some evolution of her imagin-
ation, or were those old stories true that at certain times
the for'iis of those we loved did return to visit the scenes
wiiere they had i)assed their lives? This then was such a
vision of the form of the brother whom she loved ; and she
gazed wildly, with her eyes starting, excited, more than
fearing, in the strange exaltation which she felt.

Then she sank back in her chair with the chill of dread
now emphasized, as she gazed fixedly at the ghastly face,
for she saw the lips part as if to speak, and she uttered a
low, gasping sound, for from the open window came in a
quick hoarse whisper —

" Louy, why don't you speak ? Are you alone ? "

CHAP! KR XLIII.

ill of
d she
other,

.' hud
not

FOR LIl'.KRTY AND LIFE.

NATURALISTS and students of animal life tell us that the
hunted deer sheds tears in its agony and fear, and that the
hare is ignorant of what is before it, for its eyes are strained
back in its dread as it watches the stride of the pursuing
hounds.

The reverse of the latter was the case with Harry Vine,
who in his horror and shame could only see forward right
into the future. For there before him was himself — hand-
cuffed, in gaol, before the magistrates, taking his trial,
sentenced, and then he, the scion of a good family, inflated
by the false ho])es placed before him by his aunt, dressed
in the broad-arrow convict's suit, drudging on in his debased
and weary life — the shame, the disgrace of those who loved
him, and whom, in those brief moments of agony, he knew
he dearly loved.

" Better death '. "

He muttered these words between his teeth, as in a mad
fit of cowardice and despair, he turned suddenly at the end
of the rock i)ier an^l ])lunged headlong into the eddying
tide.

Whatever the will may wisli at such a time, instinct

iw.

•78

r/J£ HAUTE NOIiLESSE.

always seems to make a frantic effort to combat this mad
will, and the struggle for life begins.

It was so here, for the sudden plunge into the cold dark
water produced its instantaneous effect. The nerves and
muscles grew tense, and after being borne for some dis-
tance straight out to sea, Harry Vine rose to the surface,
and in obedience to the natural instinct of a good
swimmer, struck out and tried to regain the pier.

But as he turned he hesitated. There were the police
waiting for him when he landed, and his i)eople were on
the shore waiting to see him disgraced — fo. he was, of
course, in utter ignorance of the efforts that had been
made to enable him to escai)e. And even as he hesitated
he knew that such a proceeding was impossible. Had he
been tenfold the swimmer he could not have readied that
point, for the current, after coming from the west and
striking full a^jainst the rocks, w^is bearing him seaward at
a tremendous rate. The voices that had been in a clamour
of excitement and the shouts and orders were growing
distant ; the lights that were Hashing over the water seemed
minute by minute more faint, and as, almost without effort,
he floated on, he wondered at the feeling of calm, matter-
of-fact reasoning which the cold plunge seemed to have
aroused.

Always a clever swimmer from the days when the sturdy
fisherman Perrow had tied a stout hake-line about his
waist, and bid him leap into the sea from the lugger's side,
and taught him to feel confidence in the water, he had
never felt so much at home as now. He was clothed, but
the strong current bore him along, and the slightest move-
ment of his limbs kept him with his nostrils clear of the
golden-spangled water.

What should he do ?

He looked seaward, and there, right off the harbour
mouth, was a lantern. He could not make out the shape
of the boat ; but his guilty conscience suggested that it was
one placed there by the ])olice for his capture ; shoreward
he could see other moving lights, and he knew as well as
if he were there tliat they were boat lanterns, and that
people were putting off in pursuit.

It did not seem to occur to him that they would be
essaying to save him ; he had committed an offence against
the law, and in his then frame of mind he could only admit

THE HAUTE NOnLESSE,

879

urdy
t his
side,

le had
, bill

niove-
f the

boiir
hape

t was
ward
ell as
that

one thought in connection with them into his l)rain, ..nd
that was that any boat's crew which i>ushed off would
have but one idea — to make every effort to capture him,
and so he swam, letting the swift tide carry him where it
would.

Shouts arose, sounding faint and strange as they came
from where the lanterns gleamed faintly ; and there was an
answering hail from the light off the harbour — the light
toward which he was being borne.

" They'll see me," he thought, and he made a few
vigorous strokes to turn aside, but gave up directly, as he
felt it possible that he might be carried by in the darkness.

To his horror, he found that he would be taken so close,
that he could easily swim to and touch the boat. For one
moment fear swayed him of another kind, and he felt that
he must give up.

" Better be taken aboard to prison than drown," he
muttered ; and he swam toward the boat.

" Better be drowned then taken off to prison," he said
the next moment ;and then, *' why should I drown? "

His confidence returned as he was borne nearer and
nearer to the lugger riding here to its buoy ; and he could
hear the voices of the men on board talking eagerly as they
gazed shoreward.

" Keep a bright look-out," said a rough voice ; and Harry
ceased swimming after turning over on his back, and let
the current bear him swiftly and silently along.

The spangled water seemed hardly disturbed by his
presence as he neared the light, then saw it eclipsed by the
boat's hull, just as he felt that he must be seen. Then he
was past the boat, and in a few seconds the light reap-
peared from the other side, shining full upon his wliite face,
but the men were looking in the other direcUon and he was
not seen.

Once more the horror of drowning came upon him, and
he turned on his face to swim back. It was only a
momentary sensation, and as he swam and felt his power
in the water he closed the lips firmly that had parted to
hail, and swam on.

The shouts came and were answered from time to time,
he could hear the regular rattle and beat of an oar, and
then the blue light flashed out brilliantly, and as he raised
himself at each long steady stroke he could see quite a

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23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY. 14580

(716) 872-4503

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THE HAUTE . WLESSE,

crowd of figures had gathered on tlie pier, and he was
startled to see how far he was from the shore. And all
this time there upon his left was the bright red harbour-
light, glaring at him like an eye, which seemed to be
watching him and waiting to see him drown. At times it
looked to be so lifelike that it ai)peared to blink at him,
and as he swam on he ceased to gaze at the dull yellow
light of the moving lanterns, and kept on watching that
redder eye-like lamp.

The blue light blazed for a time like a brilliant star and
then died out ; the shouts of the men in the boat floated to
him, and the lights of the town grew farther away as he still
swam steadily on with a sea of stars above him, and another
concave of stars apparently below ; on his right the open
sea, and on his left, where the dull land was, arose a jaggod
black line against the starry sky showing the surface of the
cliff.

" What shall I do ? " he said to himself, as he looked
back at light after light moving slowly on the water, but all
far behind him, for he was, as he well knew, in one of the
swiftest currents running due east of the quay, and for a
distance from that point due south. It was a hard ques-
tion to answer. He might swim on for an hour — he felt as
if he could swim for two — and what then ?

He could not tell, but all the time the tide was bearing
him beyond the reach of pursuit so fast that the hails grew
more faint, and every minute now the roar of the surf grew
plainer.

Should he swim ashore — land — and escape?

Where to ?

" Hah ! "

He uttered a faint cry, for just then his hand touched
something cold and slimy, and for the moment he felt
paralyzed, as he recalled how often a shark had come in
with the tide. For the object he had touched seemed to
glide by him, and a\ hat felt like a slimy moving fin swept
over his hand. He struck out now with all his strength,
blindly, and moved solely by one impulse — that of escaping
from a death so hideous — a chill of horror ran through him,
and for the moment he felt half paralyzed. The sensation
was agonising, and the strokes he gave were quick, spas-
modic, and of the kind given by a drowning man ; but as he
swam CD and the moments passed without his being seized,

rilE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

281

the waning courage began to return strongly once more, he
recovered his nerve, and ceasing his frantic efforts swam
slowly on.

The efforts he had made had exhausted him, however,
and he turned over en his back to rest, and lie paddling
gently, gazing straight up at the glorious stars which
burned so brilliantly overhead. The change was restful,
and conscious that the current swept him still swiftly along,
he turned once more and began to swim.

That fit of excitement, probably from touching some old
weed-grown piece of timber, must have lasted longer than
he thought, for he had toiled on heedless of which direction
he took, and this direction had been shoreward, the current
had done the rest ; and now that he swam it was into one
of the back tidal eddies, and the regular dull roar and rush
and the darkness ahead taught him that he was only a few
hundred yards from the cilffs. He rose up as he swam and
looked sharply from side to side, to see a faint lambent
light where the phosphorescent waves broke, and bciore
him the black jagged line which seemed to terminate the
golden-spangled heavens, where the stars dipped down
behind the shore.

He hesitated for a few moments — not for long. It was
madness to strike out again into the swift current, when in
a short time he could land or, if not, reach one of the
detached masses of rock, and rest there till the tide went
down. But what to do then? Those who searched for
him would be certain to hunt along the shore, and to land
and strike inland was, in his drenched condition, to invite
capture.

He shuddered at the thought, and awaking now to the
fact that he was rapidly growing exhausted, he swam on
into the black band that seemed to stretch beneath the
cliffs.

He was weaker than he realised, and, familiar as he was
with this part of the coast, it now in the darkness assumed
a weird, horrifying aspect ; the sounds grew, in his strangely
excited state, appalling, and tliere wer^ moments when he
felt as if the end had come. For as he swam on it was
every now and then into some moving mass of anchored
wrack, whose slimy fronds wrai)i)ed round and clung to
his limbs, hampering his movements and calling forth a
desperate struggle before he could get clear.

a'.

282

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

Then, as he reached the broken water, in spite of the
lambent glare he struck himself severely again and again
upon some piece of jagged rock, once so heavily that he
littered a moan of pain, and floated helplessly and half un-
nerved, listening to the hissing rush and hollow gasping of
the waves as they plunged in and out among the cavities
and hollows of the rocks. A hundred yards out the sea
was perfectly smooth, but here in shore, as the tidal sM-ell
encountered the cliffs, the tide raced in and out through
the chaos of fallen blocks like some shoal of mad creatures
checked in their career and frightened in their frantic efforts
to escape.

Then every now and then came a low hollow moan like
a faint and distant explosion, followed by the rattling of
stones, and a strange whispering, more than enough to
appal the stoutest swimmer cast there in the darkness of
the night.

Three times over was the fugitive thrown across a mass
of shmy rock, to which, losing heart nov^, he frantically
clung, but only to be swept off again, confused, blinded
by the spray and with the water thundering in his cais.
Once his feet touched bottom, and he essayed to stand for
a moment to try and wade acr-oss, but he only stepped
directly into a deep chasm, plunging over his head, to rise
beating the waves wildly, half strangled, and in the strange
numbed feeling of confusion which came over him, his
efforts grew more feeble, his strokes more aimless, and as
once more he went under and rose with the clinging weeds
about his neck, the fight seemed to be over, and he threw
back his head gasping for breath.

Rush ! A wave curled right over, swept him from
among the clammy weed, and the next moment his head
was driven against a mass of rock.

What followed seemed to take place in a feverish dream.
He had some recollection afterwards of trying to clamber
up the rough limpet-bossed rock, and of sinking down with
the water plunging about his eyes and leaping at intervals
right up his chest, but some time elapsed before he
thoroughly realised his position, and dazed and half helj)-
less climbed higher up to lie where the rock was dr}',
listening with a shudder to the strange sounds of the hurry-
ing tide, and gazing up from time to time at the watching
stars.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

a83

CHAPTER XLIV.

A PLACE OF REFUGE.

from

head

If ever miserable wretch prayed for the h'ght of returning
day that wretch was Harry Vine. It seemed hours of
agony during which the water hissed and surged all round
him, as if in search of the victim who nas escaped before
the faint light in the east began to give promise of the
morn.

Two or three times over he had noted a lantern far out
toward the distant harbour, but to all appearances the
search had ceased for the night, and he was too cold and
mentally stunned to heed that now.

He had some idea of where he must be — some three
miles from the little harbour, but he could not be sure, and
the curve outward of the land hid the distant light.

Once or twice he must have slept and dreamed in a
fcveied way, for he started into wakefulness with a cry of
horror, to sit chilled and helpless for the rest of the night,
trying to think out his future, but in a confused, dreamy
way that loft him where he had started at the first.

As the day broke he knew exactly where he was,
recollecting the rock as one to which he had before now
rowed with one of. the fishermen, the deep chasms at its
base being a favourite resort of conger. Hard by were
the two zorns to which they had made the excursion that
day, and searched for specimens for his father's hobby —
that day when he had overbalanced himself and fallen in.

Those zorns ! either of those caves would form a hiding
place.

'' That is certain vo be seen," he said bitterly, and with
the feeling upon him that even then some glass might be
directed toward the isolated rock on which he sat, a hun-
dred yards from the cliff, in a part where the shore was
never bared even at the lowest tides, he began to lower
himself into the deep water to swim ashore and climb up
the face of the cliff in search of some hiding place.

V m:

284

T//E HAUTE NOBLESSE,

\m.

■1*1

He was bitterly cold and longing for the sunshine, so
that he might gain a little warmth for his chilled limbs, and
under the circumstances it seemed in his half-dried con-
dition painful in the extreme to plunge into the water
again.

Half in he held on by the side of the barnacle-covered
rock, and scanned the face of the cliff, nearly perpendicular
facing there, and seeming to offer poor foothold unless he
were daring in the extreme.

He was too weak and v/eary to attempt it, and he turned
his eyes to the right with no better success.

" Better give up," he said bitterly. " I couldn't do it

now.

As he gazed to his left the rock, however, seemed more
practicable. There was a chasm there, up which it would
certainly be possible to climb, and, feeling more hopeful,
he was about to make the attempt, when a flush of excite-
ment ran though him. There in full view, not fifty yards
to the left, was the zigzag water-way up which they had
sent the boat that day toward the narrow hole at the foot
of the cliff, the little entrance to the cavern into which he
had swum, and there sat for his own amusement, startling
the occupants of the boat.

" The very place ! " he thought. " No one would fnul
me there."

His heart began to throb, and a warm glow seemed to
run through his chilled limbs as. carefully picking his time,
he swam amongst the waving seaweed to the narrow chan-
nel, and then in and out, as he had gone on that bright
sunny day which seemed to him now as if it was far away
in the past, when he was a careless, thoughtless boy, before
he had become a wretched, hunted man.

The sun, little by little, rose above the sea and flooded
the face of the rocks ; the black water became amethystine
and golden, and the mysterious gasping and moaning
sounds of the current were once more the playful splash-
ings of the waves as they leaped up the empurpled rocks
and fell in glittering cascades. It was morning, glorious
morning once again, and the black, frowning cliffs of the
terrible night were now hoi)e-inspiring in their hanging
wreaths of clustering ivy and !?oMen stars.

The swell bore him on, and he rode easily to the uK.ith
of the cave, a low rift now that was nearly hidden when a

V; ■ ■■ - :■' :

THE HAVTK NOBLESSE.

285

wave ran up, and when it retired not more than a yard
high. And as he recalled the day wb.eii he swam in his
hopes rose higher, for even if careful search were made it
was not likely that any one would venture into such a i)lace
as that. Then, as he held on by a i)iece of rock at the
mouth, he hesitated, for strange whispering sounds and
solemn gurgling came out as he peered in. Where he
clung, with his shoulders above the water, all v/as now
bright sunshine ; beneath that rough arch all was weird and
dark, and it was not until he had felt how possible it was
that he might be seen that he gave a frightened glance in
the direction of the harbour, and then, drawing a long
breath, waited for the coming of a wave, lowering himself
down at the right moment, an ' allowing the water to bear
him in.

He must have glided in, riding, as it were, on that wave
some twenty or thirty yards, when, after a hissing, splash-
ing, and hollow echoing noise, as a heavy breath of pent-
up air, like the expiration of some creature struck upon his
face, he felt that he was being drawn back.

The rugged sides of the place, after his hands had glided
over the clinging sea anemones for a few moments, gave
him a firm hold, and as the wave passed out he found
bottom beneath his feet, and waded on in the darkness
with a faint shadow thrown by the light at the mouth before
him.

The place opened out right and left, and as his eyes
grew more used to the gloom he found himself in a rugged
chamber rising many feet above his head, and continuing in
a narrow rift right on into the darkness. Where he stood
the water was about three feet deep, and his feet rested on
soft sand, while, as he continually groped along sidewise,
he found the water shallowed. Then another wave rushed
in, darkening the place slightly, and it seemed to pass him,
and to go on and on into the depths of the narrow rift
onward, and return. The tide he knew was falling, so that
some hours must elapse before there was any danger of his
being shut in and deprived of air, while there was the pos-
sibility of the cavern be. ig secure in that respect, and
remaining always sufiicien: ly open for him to breathe. But
there were other dangers. There might be enough air, but
too much water, and at the next tiilc lie might be shut in
and drowned. Then there was starvation staring him in the

2^5

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

»4k

^ k »

face. But on the otlicr side there was a balance to coun-
teract all this ; he had found sanctuary, and as long as he
liked to make this place his refuge he felt that he would be
safe.

The waves came and went, always pursuing their way
along a rift-like channel inward, while he cautiously groped
his way along to the left into the darkness, with the water
shallowing, and his hands as he went on, bent nearly double,
splashing in the water or feeling the rougli, rocky wall,
which at times he could not reach, on account of the
masses projecting at the foot.

The place was evidently fairly spacious, and minute by
minute, as more of the outer sunshine penetrated, and his
eyes grew accustomed to the place, it became filled with a
dim greenish light, just sufiicient to show him the dripping
roof about ten feet above him, while all below was black.

All at once, as he waded in with the water now to his
knees, his hands touched something wet, cold, and yielding,
and he started back in horror, with the splashing noise he
made echoing strangely from the roof.

For the moment his imagination conjured up the form
of some hideous sea-monster, which must make the zorn its
home, but once more sense and experience of the coast
told him that the creature he had touched must be a seal,
and that the animal, probably more frightened than he was
himself, had escaped now out into the open water.

A couple of yards farther and he was on dry sand, while,
on feeling about, he found that the side of the cave had
been reached, and that he could climb up over piled-up
rocks heaped with sand till he could touch the roof.

For some few minutes, as he stood there with the water
streaming from him, he could not make out whether the
heaped-up sand which filled in the rifts among the rocks
was thoroughly dry or only lately left by the tide, but at
last, feeling convinced that no water, save such as might
have dripped from the roof, could have touched it, he care-
fully explored it with his hands till he found a suitable
place, where he could sit down and rest.

He was so near the roof that the sandy spot he selected
seemed to be more suitable for reclining than sitting, and^
lying down, chilled to the very marrow, he tried to think,
but cc uld only get his thoughts to dwell upon the rushing
in of the waves as he watched them coming along what

THE HAUTE XOBLESSE,

287

seemed to be a l)road beam of light, and go on and on past
where he lay right into a dimly-seen rift to his left.

He was cold, hungry, and wretched. A feeling of utter
hopelessness and despair seemed to rob him of the ])ower
to act and think. His wet clothes clung to him, and it was
not till he had lain there some time that the thought
occurred to him to try and wring out some of the water.
This he at last did, and then lay down to think once
more.

He had not so much difficulty in making out the shape
of the place now, but it presented few differences from the
many rifts in the rocks which he had examined when boat-
ing. There were dimly-seen shell-fish on the sides, scarce
specimens such as would at one time have gladdened his
father's heart, just visible by the opening, which grew
brighter and brighter as the tide went down, and the en-
trance broadened till a new dread assailed him, and that
was that the place would be so easy of access that he would
be sought for and found.

The bitter, chilled sensation seemed to abate somewhat
now, but he was tortured by hunger and thirst. Every
louder lap or splash of the waves made him start and try
to make out the shadow of a coming boat, but these frights
passed off, leaving him trying still to think of the future
and what he should do.

How beautiful the water seemed ! That glistening band
where the light fell, and cut on either side by a band of
inky blackness, while the light was thrown from the water
in curious reflections on the glistening rock, which seem-
ed to be covered with a frosted metal of a dazzling golden
green.

He could think of +hat, and of the amethysdne water
which ran on through what was evidently a deep channel,
into the far depths of the cave, along which, in imaginadon,
he followed it on and on right into the very bowels of the
earth, a long, strange journey of curve and zig-zag, with
the water ever rushing and gurgling on, and the noise
growing fainter and fainter till it was just a whisper, then
the merest breath, and then utter darkness and utter
silence.

The excitement and exhaustion of the past night were
playing their part now, and Harry Yine lay utterly uncons-
cious of everything around.

! '

288

'JUL UAUTL AOIUJLSSE.

CHAPTER XLV.

THK HORROk IN THE ZORN.

.( I J.

!. li

" Yes ! What is it ? Aunt I^rargiierite ill ? "

Harry Vine started uj), listening.

" Did any one call ? "

There was no reply, and he sat there listening, still with
the impression strong iii)on him that he had heard some
one knock at his bedroom door and call him by name.

Then a curious sense of confusion came over him as lie
tried to make out what it meant. His head was hot, but
his hands were cold, and he felt that he cughttokniw
something which constantly eluded his mental grasp.

Land — rock — water running, gurgling, and splashing,
and utter darkness. Where was he ? What did it all
mean ?

For along time the past was a blank. Then, as he sat
with his hands pressed to his head, staring wildly befoje
him, it all came back like i flash — his trouble, the escape.
the long swim, and his takitig refuge in this cave.

Then he must have slept all day, and it was now night,
or else the tide had risen abovv:. the mouth of the entrance
and the water was slowly rising to strangle him, and
Heaven have mercy '^pon him, there was no escape !

He began to creep down slowly toward the water,
determined to swim with the next retiring wave, and try
to reach the shore. Even if he drowned in the effoit. it
would be better than sitting there in that horrible cave,
waiting for a certain death.

But he found that comparatively he had to descend
some distance before he could feel the water, and as he
touched it with his extended l,and, he fancied tl;at he
could detect a gleam of lltTjht.

For a long time he could not convince himself that it
was not fancy, but at last he was sure that there was a
faint reflection as from a star whose light struck obliquely
in. Then the month of the cave was open still and he
could swim out if he wished. But did he wish ?

THE JIAUTE NOBLESSE,

389

He felt about, and in a short time could distinguish by
the sense of touch now high the tide had risen, and that
it had not been within a couple of feet of where he had
lain, where the sand was quite warm still. lie too was
dry, and therefore it must be night, and he had been
plunged in a state of stupor for many hours. Suddenly a
thought struck him.

He had a match-box in his pocket, a little tight-fitting,
silver match-box, which held a few cigar lights. That
match-box was inside his cigar-case, and both fitted so
tightly that the watnr might have been kept out. A light,
if only for a few moments, would convince him of his
jjOsition, and then there were his cigars. He was
ravenously hungry now, and if he smoked that would
perhaps dull the sensation.

He drew out his cigar-case and opened it, and took out
a cigar. This was dry comparatively ; and as with trem-
bling fingers he felt the little silver case, he wondered
whether it closed tightly enough to keep out the water.

He took out a match. It felt dry, and the box was quite
warm, but when he gave the match one rub on the sand-
faced end, he obtained nothing but a faint line of light.
He tried again and again, but in vain ; and hesitated about
testing another match till some hours had passed.

He could not resist the temptation, and taking another
of the frail waxen tapers, he struck it sharply, and to his
great delight it emitted a sharp, crackling sound. Another
stroke and it flashed out, and there beamed steadily a tiny
clear flame which lit up the place, revealing that it was
just such a zorn as his touch and imagination had painted,
while the water was about a couple of feet below where
he knelt on the sand, and —

The yomig man uttered a wild cry of horror, the nearly
cxtmct match fell from his fingers, and burned out sputter-
ing on the wet sands at his feet.

His first effort was to crawl right away as high up as
possible, and there, shuddering and confused, he sat, or,
rather, crouched, gazing down beyond where the match
had fallen.

At times he could see a tiny, wandering point of light in
the water, which gradually faded out, and after this seemed
to reappear farther away, but otherwise all was black and
horrible once more. More than once he was tempted to

390

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

''•' 1

walk down into the water and swim out, but in his half-
delirious, fevered state he shrank from doing this, and
waited there in the darkness, suffering agonies till, after
what seemed to be an interminable time, there was a ftiint,
pearly light in the place which gradually grew and grew
till it became opalescent, then growing, and he knew that
the sun had risen over the sea.

Half frantic with horror, a sudden resolve came upon
him. There was so strong a light now in the cavern that
he could dimly see the object which had caused him so
much dread, an ol:)ject which he had touched v/hen he lir.st
waded in, and imagined to be a seal.

Trembling with excitement, he crept down to the water's
edge, waded in to his knees, and in haste, forcing himself
now to act, he drew from where it lay entangled among the
rocks, the body of a drowned man, the remains of one of
the brave fellows who had been lost at the wreck of Van
Heldre's vessel. The body was but slightly wedged in
just as it had been floated in by a higher tide than usual,
and left on the far side of some piece of rock when the
water fell, but had not'since risen high enough to float it
out.

The horrifying object yielded easily enough as he drew
it away along the surface, and he was about to wade and
swim with it to the mouth, when he stopped short, for a
sudden thought occurred to him.

It was a horrible thought, but in his excitement he did
not think of that, for in the dim light he could see enough
to show him that it was the body of a young man of about
his ov.m physique, still clothed and wearing a rough pea-
jacket.

Disguise — a means of evading justice — the opportunity
for commencing anew and existing till his crime had been
forgotten, and then some day making himself known to
those who thought him dead.

"They think me dead now," he muttered excitedly.
" They must. They shall."

Without pausing for further thought, and without feel-
ing now the loathsome nature of the task, he quickly
stripped the pea-jacket and rough vest from the dead
form, and trembling with excitement now in place of fear,
tore off his own upper garments, pausing for a few
moments to take out pocket-book and case and cigars, but

THE HAVTE XOni.rsSE.

291

; drew
ie and
for a

:itedly.

ut feel-
quickly
I dead
of fear,
a fe^v
»rs, but

only to cmnty out the latter, thrust the book and case
back, and at the end of a few minutes he was standing in
shirt and trousers, tlie rough jacket and vest lying on the
sands, and the form of the drcjwned sailor tightly buttoned
in the dry garments just put on.

Harry stood trembling for a few minutes, shrinking
from achieving liis task. Then with the full knowledge
that the body if borne out of the cave would be swej)t here
and there by the current, perhaps for days, and fmally cast
ashore not many miles away, he softly waded into the
water, drew the waif of the sea along after him, '•ight away
to the mouth of the cave, where he cautiously peered out,
and made well sure that ]io fi.ihermen were in sight before
swimming with his ghastly burden along the /ig-zag chan-
nel, out beyond the njcks, where after a fmal thrust, he
saw the current bear it slowly away before he returned
shuddering into the cave, and then landed on the dry sand
to crawl up and crouch there.

"They think me dead," he said in a husky whisper,
" let them find that, and be sure."

He was silent for a time, and then as the thoughts of
the past flooded his soul, he burst into a wild fit of sob-
bing.

" Home — sister — Madelaine," he moaned, "gone, gone
for ever ! Better that I had died ; better that I was
dead 1 "

But the horror was no longer there, and in a short time
he roused up from his Drostrate condition half wild and
faint with hunger.

After a few minutes' search he found a couple of his
cigars lying where he had thrown them on the sand, and
lighting one, he tried to dull the agony of famine by smok-
ing hard.

The effect was little, and he rose from where he was
seated and began to feel about the shelves of the rock for
limpets, a few of which he scraped from their conical
shells and ate with disgust ; but they did something to-
wards alleviating his hunger, and seemed to drive away the
strange half-delirious feeling which came over him from
time to time, making him look wildly round, and wonder
whether this was all some dreadful dream.

About mid-day he heard voices and the beating of oars,
when, wading towards the opening, he stood listening,

292

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

aiiH was not long in convincing himself that the party was
in search of him, while a word or two that he heard spoken
made him think that the party must have picked up the
body of the drowned sailor.

The voices and the sound of the oars died away, and in
the midst of the deep silence he crept nearer and peered
out, to be aware that a couple of boats wer'^' passing about
a quarter of a mile out, while from their hailing some one,
it seemed that a third boat, invisible to the fugitive, was
coming along nearer in.

He crept back into the semi-darkness and Hstened with
his ear close to the water, till, after a time, as he began to
conclude that this last boat must have gone back, and he
wondered again and again whether the drifting body had
been found, he heard voices once more, every word com-
ing now with marvellous clearness.

" No, sir, only a bit of a crevice."

" Does it go far in? "

" Far in, Mr. Leslie, sir? Oh, no. Should waste time
by going up there. You can see right up to the mouth,
and there's nothing."

" But the current sets in there."

" Yes, sir, and comes out round that big rock yonder.
Deal more likely place for him to ha* been washed up
farther on."

" Leslie, and in search of me," said Harry to himself as
the boat passed by. " Yes ; they do believe I'm dead."

That day dragged wearily on with the occupant of the
cave, tossed by indecision from side to side till the shadow
began to deepen, when, unable to bear his sufferings
longer, he crept out of the opening with the full intent of
climbing the cliff, and throwing himself on the mercy of
one of the cottagers, if he could find no other means oi
getting food.

The tide was xow, and he was standing hesitating as to
which way to go, when he turned cold with horror, for all
at once he became aware of the fact that not fifty yards
away there was a figure stooping down with a hand rest-
ing on the rock, peering into an opening as if in search of
of him.

His first instinct was to dart back into the cavern, but
in the dread that the slightest movement or sound would
attract attention, he remained fixed to the spot, while the

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

293

figure waded knee deep to another place, and seemed to
be searching- there, for an arm was phmged deeply into the
water, a rope raised, and after a good deal of hauling, a
dripping basket was drawn out and a door opened at the
side, and flapping its tail loudly, a good siztd lobster
was brought out and deposited in the basket the figure
bore upon her back.

" Mother Perrow ! " exclaimed Harry beneath his breath,
and then an excited mental debate took place. " Dare he
trust her, or would she betray him ? "

Fear was mastering famine, when Poll Perrow, after
rebaiting her lobster pot, was about to throw it back into
deep water, but dropped it with a splash, and stood star-
ing hard at the shivering man.

" Master Harry ! " she exclaimed, and, basket on back,
she came through water and over rock toward him with
wonderful agility for a woman of her age. " Why, my dear
lad," she cried in a voice full of sympathy, " is it you ? "

"Yes, Poll," he said tremulously, "it is I."

" And here have I been tryi;.g to find you among the
rocks while I looked at my crab pots. For I said to my-
self, ' If Master Harry's washed up anywhere along the
coast, there's nobody more like to find him than me.' And
you're not dead after all."

" No, Poll Perrow," he said agitatedly, " Fm not dead."

" Come on back home," she cried. " I am glad I found
you. Master Vine and Miss Louise, oh, they will be
glad ! "

" Hush, woman ! " he gasped, " not a word. No one
must know you have seen me."

" Lor', and I forget all about that/" she said in a vdiisper.
'•' More I mustn't. There's the police and Master Leslie,
and everybody been out in boats trying to find you washed
up, you know."

" And now you've found me, and will go ana get the
reward," he said bitterly.

" I don't know nothing about no reward," said the
woman staring hard at him. " Why, where's your jacket
and weskut ? Aren't you cold ? "

"Cold? Fm starving," he cried.

" You look it. Here, what shall I do ? Go and get you
something to eat ? "

" Yes— no ! " he cried bitterly. " You'll go and tell the
police."

294

TffE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

"Well, I am ashamed o' you, Moster Harry, ;hi/ y fot<. '

" But it was all a misfortune, Poll Perrovv," a,r« acciden...
I am not guilty. I'm not indeed."

"I vvarn't talking about that," said the uchian surlily,
" but 'bout you saying I should tell the police. It's likely,
arn't it ? "

"Then you will not tell — you will not hiXxd^y mer' "

" Yah ! are it likely, Master Harry ? Did I tell the
pleece 'bout Mark Nackley when he mxj in trouble over
the smuggling and hid away ? "

" But I am innocent ; I am indeed."

" All right, my lad, all right. Master Harry. If you says
so, that's 'nough for me. Here, VX ^o and tell Master
Vine I've found you."

" No, no ; he. thinks I'm dead."

" Well, everybody does ; and I :.stid it was a pity such a
nice, handsome young lad slwilf be drowned like that.
I told my Liza so."

" My father must not know '

" Miss Louy then ? "

" No, no. You must keep it a secret from everybody,
unless you want to see me \yxx in prise 'i."

*' Now is that likely, my !ad ? Here, I've got it. I'll
go and tell Master Luke Vine."

** Worst of all. No ; i,ot a word to a soul."

" All right. Master H i/ry ; I can keep my mouth shut
when I try. But wha' a/e you going to do ? "

" I don't know yet. J'm hiding yonder."

" What ! in the littL seal zorn ? "

" Yes. Don't betiA/ me, woman, pray ! "

" Betray you, Man^r Harry? You know I v/on't."

" You will not teli a soul ? ''

*' You tell me not to tell nobody, and I won't say a word
even to my 'Liza. But they're seeking for you every-
where — dead. Oh \ »ny dear lad, shake hands. I am glad
you warn't drownej/'*

The warm grasp of the rough woman's coarse hand and
the genuine sympa/hy in her eyes were too much for Harry
Vine. Weak from >nental trouble — more weak from hunger
— manhood, self-rv,jpect, everything passed from him as
he sank upon one of the hard pieces of weedy rock; and
as the woman bei\t over him and laid her hands upon his
shoulder, he flung his arms about her, let his head sink
upon her breast, a^id cried like a child.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

295

iden..,.

urlily,
likely,

;11 the
e over

:)U says
Master

uth shut

y a word
Li every-
am glad

land and
or Harry
m hunger
him as
)ck; and
upon his
ead sink

" Why, my poor, poor ooy ! " she said tenderly, with her
hard wooden stay busk creaking in front, and her maund
basket creaking behind, *' don't — don't cry like that, or —
or — or — there, I knew I should," she sobbed, as her tears
came fast, and her voice sounded broken and hoarse.

'' There, what an old fool I am ! Now, look here ; you
want to hide for a bit, just as if it was brandy or a bit o'
lace."

" Yes, Poll ; yes."

" Then wait till it's dark, and then come on to my
cottage."

" No, no," he groaned ; " I dare not."

" And you that cold and hungry ? "

'' I've tasted nothing but the limpets since that night."

" Limpets ! " she cried, with a tone of contempt in her
voice, " why they ain't even good for bait. And there are no
mussels here. Look here, my dear lad, I've got a lobster.
No, no ; it's raw. Look here ; you go back to where you
hide, and I'll go and get you something to eat. and be back
as soon as I can."

" You will ? " he said pitifully.

'' Course I will."

" And you'll keep my secret ? "

" Now don't you say that again, my lad, because it
aggravates me. There, you go back and wait, and if I
don't come again this side of ten o'clock Poll Perrow's
dead ! "

She bent down, kissed his cold forehead, and hurried
back among the rocks, splashing and climbing, till he saw
her begin to ascend the narrow rift in the cliff; and in a
fe\\ minutes the square basket, which looked like some
strange crustacean of monstrous size creeping out of the
sea and up the rocks, disappeared in the gathering gloom ;
and Harry Vine, half delirious from hunger, crept slowly
back into the cave, half wondering whether it was not all
a dream.

296

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

' I

CHAPTER XLVI.

THE FRIEND OF ADVERSITY.

It was a dream from which he was aroused three hours
later — a wild dream of a banquet served in barbaric splen-
dour, but wliose viands seemed to be snatched from his
grasp each time he tried to satisfy the pangs which seemed
to gnaw him within. He had fallen into a deep sleep, in
which he had remained conscious of his hunger, though in
perfect ignorance of what had taken place around.

His first thought was of capture, for his head was clear
now, and he saw a rough hand as he gazed up wildly at a
dim horn lantern.

The dread was but momentary, for a rough voice full of
sympathy said : —

" There, that's right. Sit up, my dear, and keep the
blankets round you. They're only wet at one corner. I
did that bringing them in. There, drink that ! "

He snatched at the bottle held to him, and drank with
avidity till it was drawn away.

^' That'll put some life into you, my dear; it's milk, and
brandy too. Now oat that. It's only bread and hake, but
it was all I could manage now. To-morrow I'll bring you
something better, or I'll know the reason why."

Grilled fish still warm, and pleasant home-made bread.
It was a feast to the starving man ; and he sat there with
a couple of blankets sending warmth into his chilled limbs,
while the old fishwoman sat and talked after she had placed
the lantern upon the sand.

" Let them go on thinking so," said Harry at last.
'* Better that I should be dead to every one I know."

" Now, Master Harry, don't you talk like that. You
don't know what may happen next. You're talking in the
dark now AVhen you wake up in the sunshine to-morrow
morning you'll think quite different to this."

" No," he said, " I must go right away ; but I shall
stay in hiding here for a few days first. Will you bring
me a little food from time to time, unknown to any one ? "

THE II A UTE NOBLESSE,

297

"Why of course I will, dear lad. IJiit why don't you
put on your pea-jacket and weskit. They is dry now."

Harry shuddered as he glanced at the rough garments
the woman was turning over.

" Throw them here on the dry sand," he said hastily.
" I don't want them now."

•'There you are then, dear lad," said the old woman,
spreading out the drowned man's clothes ; " p'r'ap they
are a bit damp yet. And now I must go. There's what's
left in the bottle, and there's a fried mack'rel and the rest
of the loaf That'll keep you from starving, and to-morrow
night I'll see if I can't bring you something better."

" And yoii'll be true to me ? "

" Don't you be afraid of that," said the old woman
quietly, as Harry clasped her arm.

" Why, you are quite wet," he said.

" Wet ! Well, if you'll tell me how to get in there with
the tide pretty high and not be wet I should like to know
it. Why, I had hard work to keep the basket out of the
water, and one corner did go in."

" And you'll have to wade out," said Harry thought-
fully.

" Well, what of tha ? How many times have I done
the same to get alongside of a lugger after fish ? Drop o'
salt water won't hurt me. Master Harry ; I'm too well
tanned lor that."

" I seem to cause trouble and pain to all I know," he
said mournfully.

" What's a drop o' water? " said the old woman with a
laugh. " Here, you keep that lantern up in the corner, so
as nobody sees the light. There's another candle there,
and a box o' matches : and now I'm going. Good-bye,
dear lad."

" Good-bye," he said; with a shudder ; " I trust you,
mind."

" Trust me \ Why, of course you do. Good-night."

" One moment," said Harry. " What is the time ? "

" Lor, how particular people are about the time when
they've got naught to do. Getting on for twelve, I should
say. There, good-night. Don't you come and get wet,
too."

She stepped boldly into the water, and waded on with
the depth increasing till it was to her shoulders, and then

298

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

Harry Vine watched her till she disappeared, and the
yellow light of the lantern shone on the softly heaving
surface, glittering with bubbles, which broke and flashed.
Then, by degrees, the rushing sound made by the water
died out, and the lit-up place seemed more terrible than
the darkness of the nights before.

The time glided on ; now it was day, now it was night ;
but day or night, that time seemed to Harry Vine one
long and terrible punishment. He heard the voices of
searchers in boats and along the cliffs overhead, and sat
trembling with dread lest he should be discovered ; and
with but one thought pressing ever — that as soon as Poll
Perrow could tell him that the heat of the search was over,
he must escape to France, not in search of the family
estates, but to live in hiding, an exile, till he could purge
his crime.

After a while he got over the terrible repugnance, and
put on the rough pea-jacket and vest which had lain upon
a dry piece of the rock, for the place was chilly, and in his
inert state he was glad of the warmth ; while as the days
slowly crept by, his sole change was the coming of the old
fish-woman with her basket punctually, almost to the
moment, night by night.

He asked her no questions as to where she obtained the
provender she brought for him, but took everything
mechanically, and in a listless fashion, never even wonder-
ing how she could find him in delicacies as well as in
freshly-cooked fish and home-made bread. Wine and
brandy he had, too, as much as he wished ; and when
there was none for him, it was Poll Perrow who bemoaned
the absence, not he.

'* Poor boy ! " she said to herself, '' he wants it all badly
enough, and he shall have what he wants somehow, and if
my Liza don't be a bit more lib'ral, I'll go and help myself.
It won't be stealing."

Several times over she had so much difficulty in obtain-
ing supplies that she determine^ to try Madelaine and the
Van Heldres ; but her success was not great.

" If he'd only let me tell 'em," she said, " it would be as
easy as easy." But at the first hint of taking any one into
their confidence, Harry broke out so fiercely in opposition
that the old woman said no more.

"No," he said; ''I'm dead — they believe I'm dead.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

299

Let them think so still. Some day I may go to them and
tell them the truth, but now let them think I'm dead."

" Which they do now," said the old woman.

" What do you mean ? "

She hesitated to tell him what had taken place, but he
pressed her fiercely, and at last he sat trembling with
horror, and with great drops bedewing his brow as she
told him of the finding of the body and what had followed.

It was only what he had planned and looked for, but
the fruition seemed too horrible to bear, and at last a
piteous groan escaped from his breast.

That night, after the old woman had gone, the food she
had obtained from his old home remained untouched, and
he lay there upon the sand listening to the sighing wind
and the moaning and working of the waves, picturing the
whole scene vividly — the finding of the body, the inquest,
und the funeral.

" Yes," he groaned again and again, " I am dead. I
pray God that I may escape now, forgotten and alone, to
begin a new life."

He pressed his clasped hands to his rugged brow, and
thought over his wasted opportunities, the rejected happi-
ness of his past youth, and there were moments when he
was ready to curse the weak old woman who had en-
"couraged him in the chimerical notions of wealth and title.
But all that passed off.

" I ought to have known better," be said bitterly
" Poor weak old piece of vanity ! Poor Louise ! My
Bweet, true sister ! Father ! " he groaned, " my indulgent,
patient father ! Poor old honest, manly Van Heldre !
Madelaine ! my lost love ! " And then, rising to his knees
for the first time since his taking refuge in the cave, he
bowed himself down in body and spirit in a genuine heart-
felt prayer of repentance, and for the forgiveness of his sin.

One long, long communing in the gloom of that solemn
place with his God. The hours glided on, and he still
prayed, not in mere words, but in thought, in deep agony
of spirit, for help and guidance in the future, and that he
might live, and years hence return to those who had loved
him and loved his memory, another man.

The soft, pearly light of the dawn was stealing in
through the narrow opening, and the faint querulous cry
of the gull -fell upon his ear, and seemed to arouse him to

300

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

the knowledge that it was once more day — a day he spent
in thinking out wliat he should do.

Time gHded slowly on, and a hundred plans had been
conceived and rejected. Poll Perrow came and went,
never once complaining of the difficulties she experienced
in supplying him and herself, and daily did her best to
supply him with everything but money. That was beyond
her.

And that was the real necessary now. He must have
money to enable him to reach London, and then France.
So long a time had elai)sed, and there had been so terrible
a finale to the episode, that he knew he might endea-
vour to escape unchallenged ; and at last, after a long
hesitancy and shrinking, and after feeling that there was
only one to whom he could go and confide in, and who
would furnish him with help, he finally made up his mind.

It was a long process, a constant fight of many hours of
a spirit weakened by suffering, till it was swayed by every
coward dread which arose. He tried to start a doz(n
times, but the heavier beat of a wave, the fall of a stone
from the cliff, the splash made by a fish, was sufficient to
send him shivering back ; but at last he strung himself uj)
to the effort, feeling that if he delayed longer he would
grow worse, and that night poor old Poll Perrow reached
the hiding-place after endless difficulties, to sit down
broken-hearted and ready to sob wildly, as. she felt that she
must have been watched, and that in spite of all her care
and secrecy her " poor boy " had been taken away.

-1*1

^u, 'I

CHAPTER XLIV.

BROTHER — LOVER.

Trembling, her eyes dilated with horror, Louise Vine
stood watching the dimly-seen pleading face for some
moments before her lips could form words, and her reason
tell her that it was rank folly and superstition to stand
trembling there.

" Harry !" she whispered, "alone? yes."
" Hah ! " he ejaculated, and thrusting in his hands he
climbed into the room.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

301

Louise gazed wildly at the rough-looking figure in sea^
stained old pea-jacket and damaged cap, hair unkempt, and
a hollow look in eye and cheek that, joined with the ghastly
colourless skip, was quite enough to foster the idea that
this was one risen from the grave.

" Don't be scared," he said harshly, " I'm not dead after
all."

" Harry ! my darling brother."

That was all in words, but with a low, moaning cry
Louise had thrown her soft arms about his neck and
covered his damp cold face with her kisses, while the tears
streamed down her cheeks.

'' Then there is sout" one left to My darling sis ! "

He began in a half-cynical way, but the genuine embrace
was contagious, and clasping her to his breast, he had to
fight hard to keep back his own tears and sobs as he
returned her kisses.

Then the fugitive's dread of the law and of discovery
reasserted itself, and pushing her back, he said quickly : —

''Where is father?"

" At Mr. Van Heldre's. Let me "

" Hush ! answer my questions. Where is Aunt Mar-
guerite ? "

" Gone to bed, dear."

" And the servants ? "

" In the kitchen. They will not come without I ring.
But Harry — brother — we thought you dead — we thought
you dead."

" Hush ! Louy, for heaven's sake ! You'll ruin me," he
whispered as she burst into a fit of uncontrollable sobbing,
so violent at times that he grew alarmed.

" We thought you dead — we thought you dead."

It was all s'le could say as she clung to him, and looking
wildly from door to window and back.

'' Louy ! " he whispered at last passionately, " I must
escape. Be quiet or you will be heard."

By a tremendous effort she mastered her emotion, and
tightening her grasp upon him, she set her teeth hard,
compressed her lips, and stood with contracted brow
gazing in his eyes.

'' Now ! " he said, " can you listen? "

She nodded her head, and her wild eyes seemed so
questioning, that he said quickly —

302

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

l>:P

'* I can't tell you much. You know I can swim well."

She nodded silently.

** Well, I rose after my dive and let the current carry me
away till I swam ashore three miles away, and I've been in
hiding in one of the zorns."

*' Oh, my brother?" she answered.

" Waiting till it was safe to come out."

" But Harry ' " she paused ; " we — my father — we all
believed you dead. How could you be so "

She stopped.

** Cruel ? " he said firmly. " Wouldn't it have been more
cruel to be dragged off to prison and disgrace you more ? "

" But "

" Hush ! I tell you I have been in hiding. They think
me dead ? "

" Yes ; they found you "

" Hush, I tell you, I have no time to explain. Let
them go on thinking me dead."

" Bu.: Harry?" she cried; "my poor broken-hearted
father — Madelaine. "

" Hold your tongue ! " he said in a broken voice, " unless
you want to drive me mad."

He paused, for his face was working ; but at last with a
stamp he controlled his emotion.

" Look here," he said hoarsely. " I had no one to come
tc but you. Will you help me ? "

" Harry? " she whispered reproachfully, as she clung to
him more firmly.

" Hah ! that's better," he said. '' Now don't talk, only
listen. But are you sure that we shall not be overheard ? "

" Quite, dear, we are alone."

" Then listen. I have thought all this out. I've been a
blackguard ; I did knock old Van Heldre down."

Louise moaned.

" But once more I tell you I'm not a thief. I did not
rob him, and I did not go to rob him. I swear it."

" I believe you, Harry," she whispered.

" Well, I'll tell you what I'm going to do."

She nodded again, unable to speak, but clung to him
spasmodically, for everything seemed to swim round before
her eyes.

*'I am penniless. There, that proves to you I did not
rob poor old Van. I want money — enough to escape over

ifl

THE HAUTE XOnr.ESSE.

303

to France— to get to London first. Tlien I shall cliange
iny name. Don't Ipe alarmed," he said tremblingly, as he
felt Louise start. " I shall give uj) the name of Vine, but
I'm not going to call myself des Vignes, or any of that
cursed folly."

" Harry ! "

" All right, dear. It made me mad to think of it all.
I've come to my senses now, and I'm going over the
channel to make a fresh start and to try and prove myself
a man. Some day when I've done this father shall know
that I am alive, and perhaps then he may take me by the
hand and forgive me."

" Harry, let mc send for him — let me tell him now."

" No," said the young man sternly.

** He loves you ! He will forgive you and bless God for
restoring you once more, as I do, my darling. Oh, Harry,
Harry ! My mother ! "

" Hush," he whispered with his voice trembling as he
held her to him and stroked her face. " Hush, sis, hush ! "

'* Then I may send for him ? "

" No, no, no ! " he cried fiercely. I am little better
than a convict. He must not, he shall not know I am
alive."

" But Harry, dearest — "

" Silence ! " he whispered angrily, '' I came to you, my
sister, for help. No, no, dear, I'm not cross ; but you talk
like a woman. The dear old dad would forgive me, God
bless him ! I know he would, just as you have, and fall on

my neck and kiss me as — as — as Ah ! Lou, Lou, Lou,

my girl," he cried, fighting against his emotion, " the law
will not be like your love. You must help me to escape,
at all events for a time."

" And may I tell him where you are gone — my father
andMaddy?"

" Hush ' " he cried, in so wild and strange a voice that
she shrank from him. '• Do you want to unman me when
I have planned my future, and then see me handcuffed
and taken to gaol ? No ; Harry Vine is dead. Some day
another man will come and ask the forgiveness he needs."

'' Harry ! "

'* But not this shivering, cowardly cur — a man, a true
blameless man, whom it will take years to make. Now,
then, once more, will you help me, and keep my secret ? "

Louise was silent for a few moments.

304

THE HAUTE lYOJU.ESSE.

\i ,:

111

:',

** Well, never mind, you must keep my secret, for after
I am gone if you said you had seen me, people would tell
you that you were mad."

** I will help you, Harry, and keep your secret, dear —
even," she added to herself, " if it breaks my heart."

"That's light. We've wasted too much time in talking
as it is, and " —

" But Harry — Madelaine — she loves you."

He wrested himself from her violently, and stood with
his hands pressed to his head. A few moments before he
had been firm and determined, but the agonised thought
of Madelaine and of giving her up for ever had ended the
fictitious strength which had enabled him to go so far.

It was the result of his long agony shut up in that cave ;
and though he struggled hard he could do no more, but
completely unnerved, trembling violently, and glancing
wildly from time to time at the door and window, he sank
at his sister's feet and clutched her knees.

" Harry, Harry ! " she whispered — she, the stronger
now — " for Heaven's sake don't give way like that."

*' It's all over now. I'm dead beat ; I can do no more."

" Then let me go for father ; let me fetch him from Van
Heldre's."

**Yes," he moaned; "and while you are gone I'll go
down to the end of the point and jump in. This time I
shall be too weak to swim."

" Harry, don't talk like that ! " she cried, embracing
him, as she saw with horror the pitiable, trembling state
in which he was.

" I can't help it," he whispered as he clung to her now
like a frightened child, and looked wildly at the door.
" You don't know what I've suffered, buried alive like, in
that cave, and expecting the sea to come in and drown
me. It has been one long horror."

*' But, Harry, dear, you are safe now."

"Safe?" he groaned; " yes, to be taken by the first
policeman I meet, and locked up in gaol."

" But, Harry ! " she cried, his agitation growing conta-
^•ious, " I have promised. I will help you now. I'll keep
it a secret, if you think it best, dear. Harry, for Heaven's
sake be a man."

" It's all over now," he groaned, " so better end it all.
I wish I was dead. I wish I was dead."

■<.f • *T '- ■ i! '■■■ ' *

THE HAUTE A'OPI.ESSE.

305

(ta-

il's

«' But, Harry, dear," slic wiiisj)crt;d, trembling now as
miu'.h ;is he, " tell me wiiat to du."

'• I can't now," ho said ; " I'm too weak and broken.
All this has been so maddening that I'm like some i)Oor
wretch half-killed by drink. It's too late now."

" No, no, Harry, dear. It shall be our secret then. Up,
and be a man, my brave, true brother, and you shall go
and redeem yourself. Yes, I'll suffer it all hopefully, for
the future shall make amends, dear. You shall go across
to F: Mice, and I will study my father's comfort, and [)ray
nightly Tor you."

" Too late," he moaned—" too late ! "

She looked at him wildly. The long strain upon his
nerves had been too great, and he was white as a sheet,
and shaking violently.

" Harry, dear, tell me what to do."

" Let them take me," he said weakly. " It's of no use."

" Hush ! " she said, full now of a wild desire to save him
from disgrace and to aid him in his efforts to redeem the
past. *' Let me think. Yes; you want money."

P'ull of the recollection of his former appeal, she took
out her keys, opened a drawer, while he half knelt, half
crouched upon the carpet. She had not much there, and,
whispering to him to wait, she left the room, locking him
in, and ran up to her chamber.

Harry started as he heard the snap made by the lock ;
but he subsided again in a helpless state, and with the
disease that had been hanging about waiting to make its
grand attack, gradually sapping its way.

In five minutes Louise was back.

" I have not much money," she whispered hastily ; ''but
here are my watch, two chains, and all the jewels I have,
dear. They are worth a great deal."

" Too late ! " he moaned as he gazed up at her piteously,
and for the moment he was delirious, as a sudden flush of
fever suffused his cheeks.

" It is not too late," she said firmly. " Take them.
Novv tell me what next to do."

" What next? " he said vacantly.

'' Yes. You must not stay here. My father may return
at any time. Brother — Harry — shall I get you some
clothes ? "

'' No — no," he said mouixifully. " I shall want no more
clothes."

3o6

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

tr^A

'^1^

" Harry ! " she cried, taking his Hice between her hands,
and drawing it round so that the liglit fell upon it; ''are
you ill ? "

" 111 ? yes," he sai 1 feebly. *' I've felt it before — in the
wet cave — fever, I suppose. Lou, dear, is it very hard to
die ? "

"Oh, what shall I do? "cried the agitated girl, half
frantic now, " Harry, you are not very ill ? "

" Only sometimes," he said slowly, as he looked round.
" I seem to lose my head a bit, and then something seems
to hold me back."

" Harry ! "

" Yes," he cried, starting up ; " who called ? You,
Louy, money — give me some money."

I gave you all I had, dear, and my jewels."
Yes, I forgot," he said huskily, as in a moment his
whole manner had changed, and with feverish energy he
felt for the trinkets she had given him.

" You are ill, dear ; " she whispered tenderly. ''Would
it not be better to let me fetch our father ? "

" I'd sooner die," he cried, catching her wrist. " No.
He shall not know. There, I can see clearly now. That
horrible weakness is always taking me now, and when it's
on I feel as if I should kill myself."

" Harry ' "

" Hush ! I know now. We must go before he comes
back."

'' We ? " she said aghast.

"Yes, we. I'm not fit to be alone. You must come
with me, Lou, and help me. If I go alone I shall go mad."

" Oh, Harry ! my darling brother."

" Yes," he cried in a hoarse whisper ; " I know I shall.
It's too horrible to live alone, as I've been living. You
must come with me and save me — from myself— from
everybody. Why do you look at me like that? "

He caught her by the shoulder, and glared at her with
a long, fierce stare.

" I — I could not leave home, Harry," she said fiintly.

" You must, you shall," he cried, " unless you want me
to really die."

" But my father, dear ? "

" Quick ! write ! " he said with the feverish energy which
frightened her ; and dragging open the blotter on a side
table, he pointed to a chair.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

307

hands,

—in the
hard to

;irl, half

i round,
ig seems

? You,

uTient his
jnergy he

ing.

;rgy which
• on a side

" He is mad — he is mad," she wailed to herself, as in
obedience to a will far stronger at that moment than her
own, she sat down and took up pen and paper.

" Write," he said hoarsely.

" Write, Harry ? "

*' Yes, quick !"

In a horror of dread as she read her brother's wild looks,
and took in his feverish semi-delirium, lest he should cany
out a threat which chilled her, she dipped her pen and
waited as, after an evident struggle with a clouding intel-
lect, Harry said quickly,

" Dear father, I am forced by circumstances to leave
home. Do not grieve for me, I am well and happy ; and
no matter what you hear do not attempt to follow me. If
you do you will bring sorrow upon yourself, and ruin upon
one I love. Good-bye ; some day all will be cleared up.
Till then, your loving daughter, Louise."

" Harry ! " she sobbed, as he laid down the pen, and
gazed at the tear-blurred paper. " You cannot mean this.
I da-') not — I could not go."

" Very well," he said coldly. ** I told you it was too
late. It does not matter now."

" Oh," she panted, " you are not reasonable. I have
given you money. Go as you said and hide somewhere.
You are weak and ill now."

" Yes," he said, in a voice which wrung her heart. " I
am v/eak and ill now."

"A little rest, dear, and the knowledge that you bave
the means of escaping will make you more calm."

He looked at her with his eyes so full of wild anger that
she half shrank from him, but his face changed.

*' Poor little sis ! " he said tenderly ; " I frighten you.
Look at me. Am I fit to go away alone? I know — I feel
that at any moment I may break down and go off my head
among strangers."

She looked at him wildly, and as she stood trembling
there in a state of agitation which overset her generally
calm balance, she read in his eyes that he was speaking
the truth.

" Put that note in an envelope and direct it," he said in
a slow, measured way, and mechanically, and as if for tiie
time being his w^ill was again stronger than hers, she obeyed
liim, dropped the letter on the table, and then stood gazing
from it to her brother and back again.

3o8

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

" It's hard upon you," he said, with his hand to his head,
as if he could think more clearly then, " hard upon the
poor old dad. But it seems my only chance, Lou, my
girl."

Father — brother — what should she do ?

'* I can feel it now," he said drearily. *' There, I'm cool
now. It's lying in that cold, wet cave, and the horrors
I've gone through. I've got something coming on — had
touches of it before — in the nights," he went on slowly and
heavily, " p'r'aps it'll kill me — better if it does."

" No, no, Harry. Stay and let me nurse you here. We
could keep it a secret from every one, and "

** Hold your tongue ! " he said fiercely. " I might live
— if I went away — where I could feel — I was safe. I can't
face the old man again. It would kill me. There, it's
too much to ask you— what's that ? "

Louise started to the door. Harry dashed to the win-
dow, and his manner was so wild and excited that she
darted after him to draw him away.

•' Nothing, dear, it is your fancy. There, listen, there
is no one coming."

He looked at her doubtingly, and listened as she drew
him from the window.

** I thought I heard them coming," he said. "Some
one must have seen me crawl up here. Coming to take
me — to gaol."

" No, no, dear. You are ill, and fancy all this. Now
come and listen to me. It would be so wild, so cruel if I
were to leave my home like this. Harry ! be reasonable,
dear. Your alarm is magnified because you aie il . Let
me — no, no, don't be angry with me — let nje speak lo my
father- —take him into our confidence, and he will help you."

" No," he said sternly.

*' Let me make him happy by the knowledge that you
are alive."

*' And come upon him like a curse," said Harry, as there
was a tap at the door, which neither heard in the excite-
ment of the moment, for, eager to help him, and trembling
lest he should, in the excited state he was, go alone, Louise
threw herself upon her knees at her brother's feet.

" Be guided bv me, dearest," she sobbed, in a low,
pained voice. "You know how I love you, how I would
die if it were necessary to save you from suffering ] but

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

309

don't — pray don't ask me to go away from poor father in
such a way as this."

As she spoke a burst of hysteric sobbing accompanied
her words \ and then, as she raised her tear-blinded eyes,
she saw that which filled her with horror. Uttering a faint
cry, she threw herself before her brother, as if to shield
him from arrest.

Duncan Leslie was standing in the open doorway, and
at her action, he took a stride fiercely into the room.

Harry's back was half turned toward him, but he caught a
glimpse of the figure in the broad mirror of an old dressoir,
and with one sweep of his arm dashed the light over upon
the floor.

The heavy lamp fell with a crash of broken glass, and as
Louise stood clinging to her brother, there was a dead
silence as well as darkness in the room.

CHAPTER XLVHL

THE PLANT AUNT MARGUERITE GREW.

As Duncan Leslie walked up the steep path leading to the
old granite house he could not help thinking of the
absurdity of his act, and wondering whether Louise Vine
and her father would see how much easier it would have
been for him to call at Van Heldre's.

" Can't help it," he said. " The old man must think
what he likes. Laugh at me in his sleeve ? Well, let
him. I shan't be the first man in love who has been
laughed at."

" In love, man, in love ! How stupid it sounds ; and I
suppose I am weak."

" Human nature ! " he said after a pause ; and he walked
very fast.

Then he began to walk very slowly, as a feeling of hesi-
tation came over him, and he asked himself whether the
Vines would not feel his coming as an intrusion, and be
annoyed.

"She can't be annoyed," he said half aloud. "She
may think it unfortunate, but she knows I love her, and
she is too true and sweet a woman to be hard u])on me."

3IO

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

With the full intention of going boldly to the house,
and trying to act in a frank, manly way, letting Louise see
that he was going to be patient and earnest, he again
strode on rapidly, but only to hesitate again and stop by
one of the great masses of rock, which occurred here and
there along the shelf-like slope cut from the side of the
towering hill.

Here he rested his arms upon the shaggy stone, and
stood gazing out to sea, the darkness looking wonderfully
transparent and pure. From where he stood the harbour
was at his feet, and he could see a spark-like light here
and there in cottage or boat, and a dull glow from some
open doorway on the op])osite side of the estuary.

The red light at the end of the east pier sent a ruddy
stain out to sea, and there was another light farther out
just rocking gently to and fro, and as it caught his eye he
shuddered, for it shone out softly, as did the light of tlie
lugger on the night when Harry Vine took that terrible
leap.

" Poor weak boy," said Leslie to himself. And then,
** The more need for her to have one in whom she can
confide ; only I must be patient — patient."

He turned with a sigh, and began to walk back, for in
his indecision the feeling was in him strong now that a call
would be an intrusion, and that he must be content to
wait. By the time he was fifty yard? down the path the
desire to see Louise again was stronger than ever, and he
walked back to the stone, leaned over it, and stood think-
ing. After a few minutes he turned sharply round and
looked, for he heard a heavy step as of a man approach-
ing ; but directly after, as he remained quiescent, he just
made out that it was not a man's step, but that of a sturdy
fisherwoman, who seemed in the gloom to resemble Poll
Perrow, but he could not be sure, and forgot the inci-
dent as soon as she passed. By the time the steps had
died out, Duncan Leslie's mind was fully made up; and,
following the woman, he walked firmly up to the gate-
way, entered, and, reaching the hall door, which stood
open, he rang. He waited for some time listening to a
low murmur of voices in the dining room, and then rang
again. There was no reply, consequent upon the fact
that Liza w",s at the back gate, to which she had
been summoned by her mother, who had come up in

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

trouble, and was asking her questions whose bearing she
could not understand.

Leslie's courage and patience began to fail, but he
still waited, and then at last changed colour, leelingthe
blood rush to his cheeks, for there was a peculiarity in
the conversation going on in the dining-room, and it
seemed to him that some one was agitated and in
pain.

He turned away so as to force himself not to hear,
feeling that he was an interloper, and then, in spite of
himself, he returned to find that the sounds had grown
louder, and as if involuntarily agitated and troubled more
than he would have cared to own, he rang again and then
entered the hall.

He hesitated for a few moments, and then certain from
the voices that there was something strange, and divining
wrongly or rightly from the tones of one of the voices — a
voice which thrilled him as he stood there trembling with
excitement, that the woman he loved needed help, he
threw aside all hesitation, and turned the handle of the
door.

The words which fell upon his ear, the scene he saw of
Louise kneeling at some strange rough-looking man's feet,
sent the blood surging up to his brain, rendering him in-
capable of calm thought, and turned the ordinarily
patient deliberative man into a being wrougiit almost
to a pitch of madness.

It did not occur to him that he was an intruder, and
that he had no right to make such a demand, but taking a
stride forward, he exclaimed —

*' Louise ! Who is this man?" as the lamp was swept
from the table, and they were in darkness.

For a few moments no one spoke, and Louise stood
clinging to her brother, trembling violently and at her wits'
end to know what to do.

The simple way out of the difficulty would have been to
take Duncan Leslie into their confidence at once ; but in
her agitation, Louise shrank from that. She knew his
stern integrity ; she had often heard of his firmness with
his mine people ; and she feared that in his surprise and
disgust, at what seemed to her now little better than a
trick played by her brother to deceive them, Leslie would
turn against him and refuse to keep the secret.

312

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

'I't

15i

i„.i

On the other hand, Harry, suffering from a fresh access
of dread, but now strung up and excited, placed his lips to
her ear and bade her be silent on her life.

The silence was for a few moments terrible, and then
Harry's breath could be heard coming and going as if he
had been hunted, while Louise, in her agony of excitement,
sought vainly for words that should put an end to the pain-
ful encounter.

No one moved ; and in the midst of the nervous strain
a sharp puff of wind came sweeping up from the sea, like
the avant-garde of a storm, and the casement window was
blown to with a loud clang.

Harry started as if he had felt that his retreat was cut off,
but he kept his face averted, and dragged his rough hat
down over his eyes, though the action was unnecessary, for
the darkness was too great for him to be recognised.

As he started Louise clung to him, and for the moment
he struggled to escape from her, but he clung to her the
next instant, and quivered with fear as the silence was
broken by Leslie's voice, so cold, deep, and harsh that it
seemed as if a stranger was speaking.

" I suppose I have no right to interfere," he said ; " but
there are times when a man forgets or puts aside etiquette,
and there are reasons here why I should speak. Miss Vine,
where is your father ? "

Louise made an effort to reply, but there vras only a
spasmodic catching of her breath.

" Send him away. Tell him to go," whispered Harry.

" I said, where is your father, Miss Vine ? " said Leslie
again more coldly.

" At — at Mr. Van Heldre's," she murmured at last.
" Mr. Leslie — pray "

*' I am your father's friend, and I should not be doing
my duty — Ah ! my duty — to myself," he cried angrily, " if
I did not speak plainly. Does Mr. Vine know that this
gentleman is here ? "

" No," said Louise, in an almost inaudible voice, and in
the contagion of her brother's fear she seemed to see him
once more hunted down by the officers of justice ; and the
terrible scene on the pier danced before her eyes.

" So I suppose," said Leslie coldly.

" Send him away," whispered Harry hoarsely.

** It is not in Miss Louise Vine's power to send, me away,

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

313

sir," cried Leslie fiercely ; and the poor trembling girl felt
her brother start once more.

''You, sir, are here, by her confession, clandestinely.
You are a scoundrel and a cur, who dare not show your
face or you would not have dashed out that light."

Harry made a harsh guttural sound, such as might be
uttered by a beast at bay.

" Who are you ? I need not ask your object in coming
here. I could not help hearing."

•' Tell him to go away," said Harry sharply, speaking in
French to disguise his voice.

" Mr. Leslie, pray, pray go. This is a private visit. I
beg you will go."

"Private enough," said Leslie, bitterly; "and once
more I say you may think I have no right to interfere. I
give up all claims that I might have thought I had upon
you, but as your father's friend I will not stand calmly by
and see wrong done his child. Speak out, sir; who are
you ? Let's hear your name, if you are ashamed to show
your face."

" Tell him to go away," said Harry again.

Leslie writhed, for Aunt Marguerite's hints about the
French gentleman of good descent came up now as if to
sting him. This man he felt, in his blind rage, was the
noble suitor who in his nobility stooped to come in the
darkness to try and persuade a weak girl to leave her
home ; and as he thought this it was all he could do, hot
blooded, madly jealous and excited, to keep from flinging
himself upon the supposed rival, the unworthy lover of the
woman he had worshipped with all the strength of a man's
first passion.

" I can't talk to him in his wretched tongue," cried
Leslie, fiercely ; " but I understand his meaning. Perhaps
he may comprehend mine. No. I shall not go. I shall
not leave this room till Mr. Vine returns. He can answer
to your father, or I will, if I have done wrong,"

" Mr. Leslie ! " cried Louise, *' You don't know what you
are doing — what you say. Pray — pray go."

" When my old friend George Vine tells me I have done
wrong, and I have seen you safe in his care."

" No, no. Go now, now ! " cried Louise.

Leslie drew a deep breath and his heart beat heavily in
the agony and despair he felt. She loved this man, this

\ ^

: 15 V

314

T//£ HAUTE NOBLESSE,

contemptible wretch who had gained such ascendency over
her that she was pleading in his behalf, and trying to screen
him from her father's anger.

"Mr. Leslie. Do you hear me?" she cried, taking
courage now in her despair and dread lest her father should
return.

" Yes," he said coldly. " I hear you, Miss Vine ; and it
would be better for you to retire and leave this man with

me.

»»

" No, no," she cried excitedly. " Mr. Leslie ! You arc
intruding here. This is a liberty. I desire you to go."

" When Ml. Vine comes back," said Leslie sternly.
"If I have done wrong then no apology shall be too hum-
ble for me to speak. But till he comes I stay. I have
heard too much. I may have been mad in indulging in
those vain hopes, but if that is all dead there still remains
too much honour and respect for the woman I knew in
happier times for me to stand by and let her wrong herself
by accompanying this man."

" Mr. Leslie, you are mistaken."

" I am not."

" Indeed — indeed ! "

" Prove it then," he cried, in stern judicial tones. " I
am open to conviction. You love this man ? " Louise
was silent. " He was begging you to accompany him in
flight." Louise uttered a low wail. " Hah ! " ejaculated
LesHe, " I am right."

" No, no ; it is all a misapprehension," cried Louise,
excitedly. " Mr. Leslie, this "

" Hold your tongue," whispered Harry hoarsely, and she
moaned as she writhed in spirit.

" There are reasons why my father should not know of
this visit."

"So I suppose," said Leslie sternly; ''and you ask me
to be a partner by giving way to a second blow to that
true-hearted, trusting man. Louise Vine, is it you who are
speaking, or has this man put these cruelly base words in
your mouth ? "

" What can I say ? What can I do ? " wailed Louise,
wringing her hands, as with every sense on the strain she
listened for her father's step.

Harry, who now that the first shock had passed was
rapidly growing more calm and calculating, bent down over

(I 'I

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

3'S

his sister, and whispered to lier again in French to go
quickly, and get lier hat and mantle.

" He will not dare to stop us," he said.

Louise drew a long breath full of ])ain, for it seemed to
be the only way to save her brother. She must go ; and,
taking a step or two she made for the door.

" No," said Leslie calmly, "it is better that you should
stay. Miss Vine."

Harry was at her side in a moment.

'* Never mind your hat," he whispered in French, " we
must go at once."

'' Stand back, sir ! " cried Leslie, springing to the door.
*' Your every act shows you to be a base scoundrel. You
may not understand my words, but you can understand
my action. I am here by this door to Leep it till Mr. Vine
returns. For the lady's sake, let there be no violence."

'* Mr. Leslie, let us pass ! " cried Louise imperiously, but
he paid no heed to her, continuing to address his supposed
rival in calm, judicial tones, which did not express the wild
rnge seething in his heart.

" I say once more, sir, let there be no violence — for your
own sake — for hers."

Harry continued to advance, with Louise's hand in his,
till Leslie had pressed close to the door.

^' Once more I warn you," said Leslie, '' for I swear by
Heaven you shall not pass while I can lift a hand."

At that moment, in the obscurity, Louise felt her hand
dropped, and she reeled to the side of the room, as now,
with a fierce, harsh sound, Harry sprang at Leslie's throat,
pushed him back against the door in his sudden onslaught,
and then wrenched him away.

'' Quick, Louise !" he cried in French. "The door!"

Louise recovered herself and darted to the door, the
handle ratding in her grasp. But she did not open it.
She stood as if paralysed, her eyes staring and lips parted,
gazing wildly at the two dimly-seen shadows which moved
here and there across the casement frames in a curiously
Weird manner, to the accompaniment of harsh, panting
sounds, the dull tramping of feet, heavy breathing, and the
quick, sharp ejaculations of angry men.

Then a fresh chill of horror shot through her, as there
was a momentary cessation of the sounds, and Leslie
panted.

316

T//E HAUTE NOBLESSE.

*' ftah ! then you give in, sir ! "

The apparent resignation of his adversary had thrown
him off his guard, and the next moment Harry had sprung
at him, and with his whole weight borne him backwards,
so that he fell with his head upon the bare patch of the
hearthstone.

There was the sound of a terrible blow, a faint rustling,
and then, as Louise stood there like one in a nightmare,
she was roused to action by her brother's words.

*' Quick ! " he whispered, in a hoarse, panting way.
" Your hat and mantle. Not a moment to lose ! "

The nightmare-like sensation was at an end, but it was slill
all like being in a dream to Louise as, forced against her
own will by the effort of one more potent, she ran \\\> to
her own room, and catching up a bonnet and a loose
cloak, she ran down again.

" You have killed him," she whispered.

" Pish ! stunned. Quick, or I shall be caught."

He seized her wrist, and hurried her out of the front
door just as Liza went in at the back, after a long whis-
pered quarrel with her mother, who was steadily plodding
down towards the town, as brother and sister stepped
out.

** What's that ? some one in front ? " whispered Harry,
stopping short. " Here, this way."

" Harry " moaned his sister, as he drew her sidewise, and
began to climb up the rough side of the path so as to 1 oach
the rugged land above.

" It is the only chance," he said hastily. " Quick ! "

She followed him, half climbing, half dragged, till she
was up on the granite-strewn waste, across which he hur-
ried her, reckless of the jagged masses of rock that were
always cropping up in their way, and of the fact that in
three places farther along, once fenced in by stones, which
had since crumbled down, were, one after the other, tlie
openings to three disused mines, each a terrible yawning
chasm, with certain death by drowning for the unfortunate
who was plunged into their depths.

"-- ;i

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

317

CHAPTER XLIX.

AFTER THE GREAT SORROWS.

"No, no, no, Mr. Vine — I mean no, no, no, George
Vine," sobbed Mrs. Van Heldre; "I did, I know, feel
bitter and full of hatred against one who could be so base
as to raise his hand against my loving, forbearing husband ;
but that was when I was in misery and despair. Do you
think that now God has blessed us by sparing his life and
restoring him to us, I could be so thankless, hard and wicked
as to bear malice ? "

" You are very, very good," said Vine sadly.

** I wish I was," said Mrs. Van Heldre, with a comic
look of perplexity on her pretty, elderly countenance,
" but I'm not, George, I'm a very curious woman."

" You are one of the best and most amiable creatures
that ever existed," said Vine, taking her hand and kissing
it.

" I try to be good-tempered and to do my best," said
the little woman with a sigh, " but I'm very weak and
stupid ; and I know that is the one redeeming point in my
character, I can feel what a weak woman I am."

" Thank God you are what you arc," said Vine rever-
ently. " If I had had such a wife spared to me all these
years, that terrible catastrophe would not have occurred."

" And you, George Vine, thank God, too, for sparing to
you the best and most loving daughter that ever lived.
Now, now, now, don't look like that. I wanted to tell you
how fond and patient John always has been with me, and
Maddy too, when I have said and done weak and silly
things. For I do, you know, sometimes. Ah, it's no use
for you to shake your head, and pretend you never noticed
it. You must."

*' I hope you will never change," said Vine with a sad
smile.

" Ah, that's better," cried Mrs. Van Heldre. " I'm glad
to see you smile again, for Louy's sake, for oar sake : and

''I

is' *'

m '1 i

i -Hk.i ,

■mil

Si»

T//£ HAUTE NOBLESSE.

now, once for all, never come into our house again, my
dear old friend and brother, looking constrained. John
has had long, long talks with me and Maddy."

" Yes," cried Vine excitedly. *' What did he say ? "

Mrs. Van Heldrc took his hand and held it.

" He said," she whispered slowly, " That it grieved and
pained him to see you come to his bedside, looking as if
you felt that we blamed you for what has passed. lie
said you had far more cause to blame him."

** No, no," said Vine hastily. " I do not blame him. It
was fate — it was fate."

"It wasn't anything of the kind," said Mrs. Van Hcldre
sharply ; '* it was that stupid, obstinate, bigoted, wrong-
headed old fellow Crampton."

" Who felt that he owed a duty to his master, and did
that duty."

" Oh ! " sighed the little woman with a look of perplexity
in her puckered-up forehead, " I told you that I was a very
stupid woman. I wanted to make you more cheerful and
contented, and see what I have done ! "

" How can I be cheerful and contented, my good little
woman?" said Vine sadly. "There, there! I shall be
glad when a couple of years have gone."

"Why?" said Mrs. Van Heldre, sharply.

" Because I shall either be better able to bear my bur-
den or be quite at rest."

" George Vine ! " exclaimed Mrs. Van Heldre reproach-
fully. " Is that you speaking ? Louise — remember
Louise."

" Ah, yes," he said sadly, but sat gazing dreamily before
him. " Louise. If it had not been for her "

He did not linish his sentence.

" Come, my dear. John will be expecting you for a
long chat. Try and be more hopeful, and don't go up to
him looking like that. Doctor Knatchbull said we were
to make him as cheerful as we could, and to keep him from
thinking about the past. He did say, too, that we were
not to let you see him much. There "

Poor little Mrs. Van Heldre looked more perplexed
than ever, and now burst into tears.

" He said that ? The doctor said that ? "

" Yes ; but did you ever hear such a silly woman in
your life ? To go and blurt out such a thing as that to
you 1 "

THE HAVTE NOP T. ESSE,

3»9

^ain, my
1. John

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icd. Ho

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remember

lily before

you for a
go up to

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him from

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perplexed

kvoman in
as that to

" I-Ic was quite right— (iiiiic right," said Vine hastily;
"and I'll be ve-ry t:arcrul not to say or do anything to
depress him. Poor John ! Do you think he is awake
now ? "

" No," said Mrs. Van 1 Icldre, wiping her eyes. " Maddy
i with him, and she will come down directly he wakes."

At that moment tiierc was a ring, and on the door being
opened the servant announced Luke Vine.

" Hallo," he said, coming in after his usual unceremo-
nious fashion. *' How is he ? "

" Very, very much better, Luke Vine," said Mrs. Van
Heldre. ** George is going up to see liim as soon as he
wakes."

" George ? My brother George ? Oh, you're there,
are you? How are you, George? How's the girl? "

" Sit down, Luke Vino."

" No, thank you, ma'am. .Sit too much as it is. Don't
get enough exercise."

*' You shall go up and sec John, as soon as he wakes."

'* No, thankye. What's the use? I couldn't do him
any good. One's getting old now. No time to spare.
Pity to waste what's left."

" Well, Pm sure," said Mrs. Van Heldre bridling. *' Of
all men to talk like that, you ought to be the last. PIl go
up and sec whether he is awake."

" Poor little woman," said Uncle Luke, as she left the
room. " Always puts me in mind, George, of a pink and
white bantam hen."

" As good a little woman as ever breathed, Luke."

** Yes, of course ; but it's comic to see her ruffle up her
feathers and go off in a huff. How's Lou ? "

" Not very well, Luke. Poor girl, she frets. I shall
have to take her away."

" Rubbish I She'll be all right directly. Women have
no brains."

George Vine looked up at him with an air of mild
reproof.

"All tears and doldrums one day; high jinks and
coquetry the next. Marry, and forget all about you in a
week."

" Luke, my dear brother, you do not mean this."

*' Don't soap, George. I hate to be called my dear
brother. Now, do I look like a dear brother ? '

f. K

320

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

'''Lif

" I shall ne'"'er forget your goodness to us over our
terrible trouble."

"Will you be quiet? Hang it all, George! don't be
such an idiot. Let the past be. The poor foolish boy is
dead ; let him rest. Don't be fo/ ever digging up the old
sorrov,', to brood over it and try to hatch fresh. The eggs
may not be addled, and you might be successful. Plenty
of trouble without making more."

" 1 do not wish to make more, Luke ; but you hurt me
when you speak so lightly of Louise."

" A jade ! I hate her."

*' No, you do not."

" Yes, I do. Here's Duncan Leslie, as good a fellow as
ever stepped, who has stuck to her through thick and thin,
in spite of my lady's powder, and fan, and her insults."

" Marguerite has been very sharp and spiteful to Mr.
Leslie," said George Vine sadly.

'' She's mad. Well, he wants to marry the girl, and she
has pitched him over."

'* Has Louise refused him ? "

" He doesn't say so ; but I saw him, and that's enough.
Of course I know that at present — et cetera, et cetera ;
but the girl wants a husband ; all girls do. There was
one for her, and she is playing st a Jid off w'lih. him. Just
like woman. He ! he ! he ! he ! " He uttered a sneering
laugh. " Going to marry Madge's French count, I sup-
pose — Monsieur le Comte de Mythville. There, I can't
help it, George, old lad ; it makes me wild. Shake hands,
old chap. Didn't mean to hurt your feelings ; but between
ourselves, though I've never shown it to a soul, I was
rather hit upon the idea of Leslie marrying Louise."

" I had thought it possible," said George Vine, v.ith a
sigh.

" Her fault. Hang it all, George, be a man, and bestir
yourself."

" I am trying, brother Luke."

" That's right, lad ; and for goodness' sake put down
your foot and keep Margar^^t in her place. Louy is soft
now with trouble, and that wicked old woman will try to
work her and mould her into what shape she pleases.
You've had enough of Margaret."

" I haw: tried to do my duty by our sister."

" You've done more, my lad. Now take care that she

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

321

leaves Louy alone. You don't want another old maid of
hei pattern in the family."

"John is awake now, George Vine," said Mrs. Van
Ht'ldre, re-entering the room.

'' Will you go up ? "

" Yes, I'll go up," said George Vine quietly.

" Well, aren't I to be asked to see him ? " grumbled
Uncle Luke.

" Oh, what a strange man you are ! " said Mrs. Van
Heldre ; " you know I wanted you to go up."

" No, I don't ; I know you asked me to go up. Different
thing altogether."

" I did want you to go. I felt that it would cheer up
poor John.'*

" Well, don't be cross about it, woman. Ask me again."

Mrs. Van Heldre turned with a smile to Georg? Vine,
as much as to say, " Did you ever hear such an unreason-
able being ? "

" Rum one, aren't I, John's wife, eh ? " said Uncle Luke
grimly. " Good little woman, after all."

•' After all ! " ejaculated Mrs. Van Heldre, as she fol-
lowed them into the room, and then stepped back. **Too
many of us at once can't be good, so I must stay down,"
she added with a sigh.

Crossing to the table where her bird's cage was standing,
she completely removed the cover, now displaying a pink
and grey ball of feathers upon the perch, her action having
been so gentle that the bird's rest was not disturbed.

" Poor litde prisoner ! " she said gently. "There, you
may wake up to-morrow morning and pipe and sing in the
bright sunshine, for we can bear it now — thank God ! we
can bear it now."

CHAPTER L.

THE DISCOVERY.

Madelaine rose as the brothers entered the room, and
before coming to the bed, where Van Heldre lay rapidly
mending now, George Vine took the girl's hands, looked

322

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

jti

i f ^

down in her pale face, which sorrow seemed to have refined,
and bent down and kissed her.

" How are you, Maddy ? " said Luke Vine, gruffly ; and
he was going on to the bed, but Madelaine laid her hand
upon his shoulder, leant towards him, and kissed him.

" Hah ! yes, forgot," he said, brushing her forehead
roughly with his grey beard ; and then, yielding to a sudden
impulse, kissing the girl tenderly, ** How I do hate girls !"
he muttered to himself, as he went straight to the wmdow
and stood there for a few moments.

" Poor lad ! " he said to himself. " Yes, hopeless, or a
girl like that would have redeemed him."

He turned back from the window.

" Room too hot and stuffy," he said. " Well, how are
you, John? "

** Getting well fast," replied Van Heldre, shaking hands.
"Splendid fish that was you sent me to-day; delicious."

" Humph ! all very fine ! Shilling or fifteen pence out
of pocket," grumbled Uncle Luke.

" Get out ! " said Van Heldre, after a keen look at
George Vine. " Poll Perrow wouldn't have given you
more than ninepence for a fish like that. It's wholesale,
Luke, wholesale."

" Ah ! you may grin and wink at George," grumbled
Uncle Luke, "but times are getting hard."

" They are, old fellow, and we shall be having you in
the workhouse, if we can't manage to get you to the Victoria
Park place."

** Here, come away, George," snarled Uncle Luke.
*' He's better. Beginning to sneer. Temper's getting very
bad now, I suppose, my dear?" he added to Madf laiiie.

" Terrible. Leads me a dreadful life, Uncle Lui c,"
she said, putting her arm round Van Heldre's neck to 'ay
her cheek against his brow for a moment or two before
turning to leave the room.

" Cant and carny," said Uncle Luke. *' Don't you
believe her, John Van ; she'll be coming to you for money
to-morrow — bless her," he added sotto voce; then aloud,
'♦What now?"

For Madelaine had gone behind his chair, and placed
her hands upon his slioulders,

"It's all waste of breath, Uncle Luke," slie said gently.
" We found you out a long time ago, Louise and I."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE

323

efined,

y ; and
:r hand
im.

)rehead

sudden

girls!"

window

;ss, or a

how are

g hands,
licious."
ence out

look at
ven you
holesale,

[rumbled

you in
Victoria

lie Luke.
;ting very

|ad(:.lrih;e.

o before

lon't you
)r money
ni aloud,

d placed

d gently-
I."

" What do you mean ? "

" All this pretended cynicism. It's a mere disguise."

" An ass in the lion's skin, eh ? "

" No, Uncle Luke," she whispered, with her lips close to
his ear, so that the others should not catch the words,
" that is the wrong way, sir. Reverse the fable."

*' What do you mean, hussy? "

" The dear old lion in the ass' skin," she whispered ;
" and whenever you try to bray it is always a good honest
roar."

" Well, of all "

He did not finish, for Madelaine had hurried from the
room, but a grim smile came over his cynical countenance,
and he rubbed his hands softly as if he was pleased. Then,
drawing his chair nearer to the bed, he joined in the con-
versation at rare intervals, the subjects chosen being al) as
foreign as possible from the past troubles, till Mrs. Van
Heldre came softly into the room.

" I am Doctor KnatchbuU's deputy," she said ; " and
my orders are not to let John excite himself."

" All nonsense, my dear," said Van Heldre.

" She is quite right, John," said George Vine, rising.

" Quite right," said Uncle Luke, following his brother's
example. " Keep him quiet. Make haste and get well.
Good night. Come, George."

He was at the door by the time he had finished his
speech, and without pausing to shake hands began to
descend.

Madelaine came out of the drawing-room as the old man
reached the hall.

'• What do you think of him ? " she said eagerly.

'* Going backwards — dying fast," he said shortly.

" Oh ! "

*' Don't be a little goose," he cried, catching her in his
arms as she reeled. " We all are ; especially people over
fifty. Bonny little nurse. You've done wonders. Good
night, my dear ; Grd bless you ! "

She returned his loving fatherly kiss, given hastily, as if
he were ashamed of his weakness, and then he strode out
into the dark night.

" Poor Uncle Luke!" she said softly. " I was right.
He mnst have had some shock to change his life like this.
Good night, dear Mr. Vine. My dearest love to Louy."

324

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

'■>■ n: 1 ■■■

( fl* ' 1

" Good night, my darling," he whispered huskily, and
the next minute he was walking slowly away beside his
brother in the direction of the turning up to the granite
house.

" Good night, Luke," said George Vine. " It is of no
use to say come up."

" Yes, it is," said Uncle Luke snappishly. " I want to
see Louy, and have a decent cup of tea,"

*' I am very glad," said his brother warmly. " Hah !
that's right. Come more often, Luke. We are getting old
men now, and it's pleasant to talk of the days when we
were boys."

" And be driven from the place by Madge with her
pounce-box and her civet-cat airs. You kick her out, and
I'll come often."

*' Poor Marguerite ! "

" There you go ; encouraging the silly French notions.
Why can't you call her Margaret, like a British Christian?"

" Let her finish her span in peace, brotl.er," said George
Vine, whose visit to his old friend seemed to have bright-
ened him, and made voice and step elastic. " We are cro-
chety and strange too, I with my mollusk hobby, and you
with your fishing."

" If you want to quarrel, I'm not coming up."

" Yes, you are, Luke. There, come often, and let poor
Margaret say what she likes. We shall have done our
duty by her, so that will be enough for us."

" Hang duty ! I'm getting sick of duty. No matter
what one does, or how one tries to live in peace and be
left alone, there is always duty flying in one's face."

" Confession of failure, Luke," said his brother, taking
his arm. " You have given up ordinary social life, invested
your property, sent your plate to your banker's, and settled
down to the life of the humblest cottager to, as you say,
escape the troubles of every-day life."

"Yes, and I've escaped 'em — roguish tradespeople,
household anxieties, worries out of number."

" In other words," said Vine, smiling, " done everything
you could to avoid doing your duty, and for result you
have found that trouble comes to your cottage in some
form or another as frequently as it does to my big house."

Uncle Luke stopped short, and gave his stick a thump
on the path.

.»'i.

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

325

" I have done, Luke," said Vine quietly. " Come along;
Louise will think we are very long."

" Louise will be very glad to have an hour or two to
herself without you pottering about her. Hah ! what idiots
we men are, fancying that the women are looking out for
us from our point of view when they are looking out from
theirs for fear of being surprised, and "

" Here we are, Luke. Come in, my dear boy."

Uncle Luke grunted.

'* Oh, I don't know," he said, " it's getting late. Perhaps
I had better not come in now."

" The tea will be waiting," said his brother, holding his
arm lightly as he rang.

" Horribly dark for my walk back afterwards," grumbled
Uncle Luke. " Really dangerous place all along there by
the cliff. No business to be out at night. Ought to be at
home."

"Tea ready, Liza?" said George Vine, as the door was
opened, and the pleasant glow from the hall shone upon
them in a way that, in spite of his assumed cynicism,
looked tempting and attractive to Uncle Luke.

" Miss Louise hasn't rung for the urn yet, sir."

" Hah ! that will do. Give me your hat, Luke."

" Bah ! nonsense ! Think I can't hang up my own hat
now."

George Vine smiled, and he shook his head at his
brother with a good-humoured smile as he let him follow
his own bent.

" That's right. Come along. Louy dear, I've brought
Uncle Luke up to tea. All dark ? Liza, bring the lamp."

Liza had passed through the baize-covered door which
separated the domestic offices from the rest of the house,
and did not hear the order.

" Louy? Louy dear ! "

" Oh ! I don't mind the dark," said Uncle Luke. " Here,
why don't the girl let in some air these hot nights ? " he
continued, as he crossed the room towards the big embay-
ment, with its stained glass heraldic device.

Crack ! Crackle !

" Hullo here ! broken glass under one's feet," said Luke
Vine, with a chuckle. " This comes of having plenty of
servants to keep your place clean."

'' Glass ? "

326

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

" Yes, glass. Can't you hear it ? " snarled Uncle Luke,
who, as lie found his brother resume his old demeanour,
relapsed into his own. " There ! glass — glass — glass
crunching into your Turkey carpet."

As he spoke he gave his foot a stamp, with the result
that at each movement there was a sharj^ cracking sound.

" It's very strange. Louise ! "

" Oh ! "

A low, piteous moan.

" What's that ? " cried Uncle Luke sharply.

George Vine stood in the darkness paralysed with dread.

Some fresh trouble had befallen his house — some new
horror assailed him ; and his hand wandered vaguely about
in search of support as a terrible feeling of sickness came
over him, and he muttered hoarsely, " Louise ! my child !
my child ! "

Luke Vine was alarmed, but he did not lose his presence
of mind.

" Margaret — a fit," he said to himself, as, turning quickly,
his foot kicked against another portion of the larnp-globe,
which tinkled loudly as it fell to pieces.

He brushed by his brother, hurrying out into the hall, to
return directly bearing the lamp whicn stood on a bracket,
and holding it high above his head as he stepped carefully
across the carpet.

" There 1 there ! " whispered George Vine, pointing to-
wards the fire-place, where he could see a figure lying
athwart the hearthrug.

Then, as Luke held the light higher, George Vine seemed
to recover his own presence of mind, and going down on
one knee as he bent over, he turned the face of the pro-
strate man to the lif2;ht.

" Duncan Leslie ! " cried Uncle Luke excitedly, as he
quickly set down the lamp and knelt on the other side.
*' Where's Louy ? The ])oor boy's in a fit."

"No, no," whispered his brother hoarsely. ''Look!
look ! "

Luke drew in a quick, hissing breath,

*' Call Louy," he said sharply. " Tell her to bring some-
thing to bind up his head — scissors, sponge, and water."

'' Has he been struck down ? " faltered George Vine,
with the thought of his old friend rushing to his mind.

" No, no. Don't talk. Here, your handkerchief, man,"

THE HAUTE A'OBLESSE.

327

said Luke, who was far the more mattcr-of-foct. "A fall.
Head cut. Slip on the cliff, I suppose, and he has come
here for help."

Taking the handkerchief passed to him by his brother,
he rajndly bound it round the place where a deep cut was
slowly swelling, while George Vine dragged sharj)ly at the
bell and then ran to the door and called, " Louise ! Louise."

Liza came hurrying into the hall, round-eyed and start-
led.

" Where is your mistress ? " cried Vine.

" Miss Louise, sir ? Isn't she there ? "

" No. Go up to her room and fetch her. Perhaps she
is with Miss Vine."

" ril go and see, sir," said the girl wonderingly ; and
she ran up-stairs.

" Help me to get him on the sofa, George," said Uncle
Luke ; and together they placed the injured man with his
head resting on a cushion.

" Now, then, I think we had better have Knatchbull.
He must have had a nasty fall. Send your girl ; or no,
I'll go myself."

" No," said Leslie feebly ; '' don't go."

" Ah ! that's better. You heard what I said? "

" Yes ; what you said."

It v/as a feeble whisper, and as the brothers bent over
the injured man, they could see that he was gazing wildly
at them wi«-h a face full of horror and despair.

*' I'll trot down and fetch Knatchbull," whispered Uncle
Luke.

" No."

The negative came from Leslie, who was lying back
with his eyes closed, and it was so decisive that the brothers
paused.

At that moment Liza entered the room.

" She isn't up-stairs, sir. Ow ! "

The girl had caught sight of Leslie's ghastly face, and
she uttered an excited howl and thrust her fingers into her
ears.

Leslie looked up at George Vine vacantly for a moment,
and then light seemed to come to his clouded brain,
and his lips moved.

'* Say it again," said Vine, bending over him.

" Send — her — away," whispered the injured man..

328

T//I^ HAUTE NOBLESSE.

Wi\

" Yes, of course. Liza, go and wait — no ; get a basin
of water, sponge, and towel, and bring them when I ring."

The girl looked at him wildly, but she had not heard his
words ; and Uncle Luke put an end to the difhculty by
taking lier arm and leading her into the hall.

'* Go and get sponge and basin. Mr. Leslie has fallen
and hurt himself. Now, don't be stupid. You needn't
cry."

The girl snatched her arm away and ran through the
baize door.

"Just like a woman ! " muttered Uncle Luke as he went
back ; " no use when she's wanted. V.'ell, how is he ? "

Leslie heard the whisper, and turned his eyes upon him
with a look of recognition.

" Better," he whisi)ered. " Faint — water."

George Vine opened the cellarette, and gave him a little
brandy, whose reviving power proved wonderful. But
after heaving a deep sigh, he lay back with his forehead
puckered.

" Hadn't I better fetch Knatchbull, my lad? " said Uncle
Luke gruffly, but with a kindly ring in his voice. " Cut
on the back of your head. He'd soon patch it up."

" No. Better soon," said Leslie in a low voice. " Let
me think."

" Be on the look-out," whispered Uncle Luke to his
brother. "Better not let Louise come in."

Leslie's eyes opened quickly, and he gazed from one to
the other.

" Better not let her see you till you are better," said
Uncle Luke, taking the injured man into their confidence.

A piteous sigh escaped from Leslie, and he closed his
eyes tightly.

" Poor boy ! " said Uncle Luke, " he must have had an
ugly fall. Missed his way in the dark, I suppose. George,
you'll have to keep him here to-night."

" Yes, yes, of course," said George Vine uneasily, for
his ears were on the strain to catch his child's step, and
her absence troubled him.

All at once Leslie made an effort to sit up, but a giddy
sensation overcame him, and he sank back, staring at them
wildly.

" Don't be alarmed," said George Vine kindly. '' You
are faint. That's better."

THE IlAUrE NO lU. ESSE.

329

\ basin
1 ring."
:ard his
ully by

IS fallen
needn't

)Ugh the

he went

is he?"

ipon him

m a little

ill. But

forehead

aid Uncle
,e. " Cut
ip."

Ive had an
George,

easily, for
step, and

Leslie lay still for a fuw moments, and then made a fresh
effort to sit up. This time it was with mere success.

" Give him a little more brandy," whispered Uncle
Luke.

** No ; he is feverish, and it may do harm. Yes," he
said to Leslie, as the injured man grasped his arm " you
want to tell us how you fell down."

" No," said Leslie quickly, but in a faint voice, " I did
not fall. It was in the struggle."

" Struggle ? " cried Uncle Luke. " Were you attacked ? "

Leslie nodded quickly.

" Where ? Along the road ? "

" No," said Leslie hoarsely ; " here."

'' Here ! " exclaimed the brothers in a breath ; and then
they exchanged glances, each silently saying to the other,
" The poor fellow is wandering."

" There," said Leslie, " I can think clearly now. It all
seemed like a dream. You must know, ^Ir, Vine. I must
tell you," he added piteously. '' Mr. Vine, what do you
propose doing ? "

^* Hush ! " said George Vine, laying his hand upon the
young man's shoulder, ^' you are ill and excited now.
Don't talk at present. Wait a little while."

" Wait ? " cried Leslie, growing more excited. " You
do not know what you are saying. How long have I been
lying here ? What time is it ? "

''About nine/' said Vine kindly. " Come, come, lie
back for a few moments. We'll get some cold water, and
bathe your temples."

" Man, you will drive me mad," cried Leslie. " Do you
not — no, you have not understood yet. Louise — Miss
Vine ! "

George Vine staggered as if he had been struck, and his
brother caught his arm as he stood there gasping, with his
hand to his throat.

" What do you mean ? " cried Uncle Luke sternly.

"I am sick and faint," said Leslie, pressing his hands to
his brow, as if unable to think clearly. I remember now.
I came in to ask about Mr. Van Heldre, and a stranger
was with Miss Vine. I tried to stop him — till you . ^ irned.
We struggled, and he threw me. I recollect no more."

" You're mad ! " said Uncle Luke savagely. " Where is
Louise ? "

ill

330

T/f/i HAUTE NOBLESSE.

His brother caught liold of the back of a chair to
siii)port liimsclf, and his lips moved, but no sound came.

" Yes, I can recollect it all clearly now," panted Leslie.
" You must know ! "

And he told them all.

They heard him in silence, devouring his words, and
from time to time exchanging a hurried glance of inquiry.

'' Bah ! " ejaculated Uncle Luke, as the young man
finished. Then, changing his manner, " Yes, of course.
There, lie back, my lad, and tell us again after you've had
a rest."

'^ No, no," cried Leslie passionately, ** it is wasting time.
She was forced to go. She was imploring him to let her
stay when I came in, and they must be miles away by now.
For heaven's sake do something before it is too late."

"■ A Frenchman ? " said Uncle Luke eagerly.

" Yes ; he spoke to her in French, as well as in P^nglish."

"And did my niece speak to him in French ? "

" No ; she was ai)pealing to him in English, but he spoke
at times in French."

"Do you hear this, George ? Has Louise a French
friend ? "

" No," cried her father angrily, " it is a delusion."

" I would to heaven it were," groaned Leslie, '' 1 would
to heaven it were I "

George Vine crossed to the bell-pull, and rang sharply,
repeating the summons before Liza had time to enter the
room.

'* When did you see your mistress last ? " he said sharply.

" When I took in the lamp, sir."

Liza knew no more, and was dismissed, after staring
wonderingly from one to the other.

" Stop ! " cried Uncle Luke. " Go up and ask JMiss Vine
if my niece has been with her."

Liza returned with an answer in the ncgaiivj; and as
soon as they were alone, Leslie said piteously,

" You disbelieve me."

" No, no, my lad," said Uncle Luke ; " we only think
you are suffering from your fall, and distrust what you
have, or think you have, seen."

" Think 1 " said Leslie angrily.

" You say some man was with my niece — a Frenchman."

" Yes ; I am bound to tell you for her sake."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

331

hair to

1 came.

Leslie.

•ds, and
[iquiry.
ng man
course,
i've had

ing time.

let her

1 by now.
ate."

English."

, he spoke

a French

1 would

sharply,
enter the

d sharply.

;r staring

Isliss Vine

J ; and as

only think
what you

enchman.

" It is not true," cried Crcorge Vine fiercely.

They looked at him with surprise, for he seemed trans-
formed from the quiet, mild-lo(jking man to one full of
fierce determination as he stood there with Hashing eyes.

'^ My daughter kn-'W no Frenchman."

Leslie winced as if stung, for the mental suggestion was
there that Louise had hoodwinked her father, and kept up
some clandestine engagement with tiiis man.

" Do you hear me ? " cried Vine angrily. " 1 say it is not
true. Mr. Leslie, you have been deceived, or you have
deceived yourself. I beg your pardon. You are not
yourself. It seems useless to discuss this further. Luke,
all this seems mysterious because we have no key to the
puzzle. Pish ! puzzle ! it is no puzzle. Louise will be
here shortly. Mr. Leslie, be advised ; lie still for an
hour, and then my brother and I will see you home. Or,
betier still, let me offer you the hosoitaliiy of my house
for the night."

The cloud that had obscured Leslie's brain had now
passed away, leaving his mental perceptions clear, while
his temper was exacerbated by the injury he had received,
and by the agony he suffered on account of Louise. In
])lace of lying back, he rose from the couch and faced
George Vine, with his lips quivering and an angry look in
his eyes.

" Look," he said hoarsely, " I am weak and helpless.
If I take a few steps I shall reel and fall, or I would do
what I tried to do before, act on her behalf. You mock
at my words. You, her father, and stand there wasting
time ; valuable time, which, if used now, might save that
poor girl from a life of misery. Do you hear me ? I tell
you she has gone — fled with that man. He forced her to
go with threats. Do you not hear me ? "

" Leslie, my lad," said Uncle Luke, " be calm, be
calm."

" You are as mad and blind as he ! " cried Leslie.
" Heaven help me, and I am as weak as a child."

He strode tov/ards the door, and proved the truth of his
words, for he tottered, and would have fallen but for Uncle
Luke.

" There, you see," he cried fiercely, '' I can do nothing,
and you, uncle and father, stand blind to the misery and
disgrace which threaten you."

332

THE HAUTE mini. ESSE.

1*3

" Silence ! " cried George Vine ; " I can hear no more."

He turned upon Leslie fiercely.

"Your words, sir, are an insult to me, an insult to my
child. T tell you I can hear no more. What you say is
false. My daughter could not leave my house like this.
Go, sir, before 1 say words which I may afterwards repent,
and — and "

"George, man, what is it? " cried Uncle Luke, as his
brother's words trailed off, and he stopped suddenly in the
agitated walk he had kept up to and fro while he was
addressing Leslie.

There was no answer to the agitated question, for George
Vine was gazing down at something beside the table, lying
half covered by the dragged-aside cloth.

Whatever it was it seemed to act as a spell upon the old
naturalist, whose eyes were fixed, and his whole aspect
that of one suddenly fixed by some cataleptic attack.

'* What is it ? Are you ill ? " cried Uncle liUke excitedly
as he stejiped forward. *' Hah, a letter ! "

He was in the act of stooping to pick it up, but his act
seemed to rouse his brother from his lethargy, and he
caught him by the arm.

" No, no," he whispered ; and slowly put his brother
back, he stooped and stretched out his hand to pick up the
half-hidden letter.

They could see that his hand trembled violently, and
the others stood watching every act, for the feeling was
strong upon both that the letter which Vine raised and
held at arm's length contained the explanation needed.

George Vine held the letter toward the shaded lamp, and
then passed his left hand over his eyes, and uttered a hoarse
sigh, which seemed as if torn from his heart.

" I — I can't read," he whispered — " eyes dim to-night,
Luke. Read."

LTncle Luke's hand trembled now as he took the missive,
and slowly tore open the envelope ; but as he drew out
the letter it was snatched from his hands by his brother,
who held it beneath the lamp-shade and bent down to
read.

He raised himself up quickly and passed his hand across
his eyes, as if to swee]) away some film which hindered his
reading, and the silence in that room was terrible as he b^nt
down again.

;in

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

333

A strong pang of suffering shot through Duncan Leslie
as he saw the old man's lips (juivering, while he read in a
slow, laborious way the few lines contained in the note,
and then, after once more making an effort to clear his
vision, he seemed to read it again.

" George — brother — why don't you speak ? " said Uncle
Luke at last.

George Vine looked up in a curiously dazed way.

" Speak ? " he said huskily ; " speak ? "

'' Yes ; is that from Louise ? "

He bowed his head in assent.

" Well, what does she say, man ? What does it mean ? "

George Vine looked in his brother's eyes once more —
the same curiously dazed look as if he hardly comprehended
what was taking place. Then he slowly placed the note in
Luke's hands.

There was no slow, dazed manner here, for the old cynic
was full of excitement, and he seemed to read the note at
a glance.

" Gone ! " he said. " Then she has gone ? "

" Yes," said his brother lowly ; " she has gone."

" But this man, George — this man, Leslie. Don't stare,
man, speak."

" What do you wish me to say, sir ? " said Leslie,
hoarsely.

" Who was he ? What was he like ? "

" I could not see his face, he kept it averted. I can tell
you no more, sir. I tried to force him to stay till Mr.
Vine's return, as I before told you, and you saw the
rtjsult."

"A Frenchman?"

" He spoke in French."

" George, had you any suspicion of this ? "

" No."

" You never heard a word ? "

" I never heard a word."

" But it must have been going on for long enough. And
you knew nothing whatever ? "

" And I knew nothing whatever," said George Vine, his
words coming slowly and in a voice which sounded per-
fectly calm.

" Then you know from what black cloud this bolt has
come ? "

S*.' •

334

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

L~3 i-

V' h ■-*■•* -.

■:■'! , ■■ ■

" I — I know nothing," said Vine, in the same slow,
strange way.

" Then 1 can tell you," cried Luke, furiously. " If ever
man nursed viper at his fireside, you have done this, for it
to sting you to the heart. Hah ! " he cried, as the door
opened and Aunt Marguerite sailed in, drawing herself up
in her most dignified way, as she saw who was present, and
then ignoring both strangers, she turned to her brother.

'* What is the meaning of these inquiries ? " she said
sternly. " Where is Louise ? "

" Ask your own heart, woman," cried Uncle Luke,
furiously. " Gone — gone with some wretched French
impostor of your introduction here."

Aunt Marguerite gazed at him angrily.

" I say where is Louise ? " she cried excitedly.

" Mr. Leslie," said George Vine, after drawing a long
breath, his sister's shrill voice having seemed to rouse him ;
"you will forgive a weak, trusting old man for what he
said just now ? "

" Forgive you, Mr. Vine ! "

" I was sure of it. Thcnk you. I am very weak."

" But Louise ? " cried Aunt Marguerite.

" Read her letter. Gone ! " cried Uncle Luke fiercely,
as he thrust the note in the old woman's face.

'* Gone ! " said George Vine, staring straight before him
with the curious look in his eyes intensified, as was the
stony aspect of his face. " Gone ! Thank God — thank
God ! "

" George, what are you saying ? " cried Uncle Luke
excitedly.

" I say thank God that my dear wife was not spared to
me to see the blow that has fallen upon my home to-night."

Brother, sister, Duncan Leslie stood gazing at the silvered
head, dimly seen above the shaded lamp. The face was
unnaturally calm and strange ; and weak as he was, Duncan
Leslie sprang forward. He had seen what was coming,
and strove vainly to save the stricken man, for George
Vine seemed to have been robbed of all power, and fell
with a weary moan senseless at his brother's feet.

i. !'^''i

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

33S

CHAPTER LI.

BROKEN WITH THE FIGHT.

" Better slop where you are, man," said Uncle Luke.

" No," said Leslie, as he stood gazing straight before him,
as one who tries to see right on into the future along the
vista of one's own life.

" But it is nearly one o'clock. Sit down there and get
a nap."

'• No. I must go home," said Leslie slowly, and in a
measured way, as if he were trying to frame his sentences
correctly in carrying on the conversation while thinking of
something else.

" Well, you are your own master."

" Yes," said Leslie. " How is he ? "

" Calmer now. He was half mad when he came to, and
KnatchbuU was afraid of brain fever, but he gave him
something to quiet the excitement. Better have given you
something too."

" What are you going to do ? " said Leslie, turning upon
the old man suddenly, and with a wild look in his eyes.

" Do nothing rashly," said Uncle Luke.

"But time is flying, man."

" Yes. Always is," said Uncle Luke, coolly, as he
watched his companion with half-closed eyes.

" But "

" That will do. I cannot discuss the matter to-night,
my head's in a whirl. Do nothing rashly is a capital
maxim."

" But we are wasting time."

" Look here, young man," said LTncle Luke, taking
Leslie by the lappet of the coat. '' I'm not blind. I dare-
say I can see as far through you as most people can. I am
an old man, and at my time of life I can be calm and
dispassionate, and look on at things judicially."

" Judicially ? " said Leslie bitterly ; " any child could
judge here."

336

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

" Oh, no," said the old man ; " big child as you are, you
can't."

*' What do you mean ? "

" That you are only a big stupid boy, Duncan Leslie."

" Don't insult me in my misery, man."

" Not I, my lad. I like you too well. I am only play-
ing the surgeon, hurting you to do you good. Look here,
Leslie, you are in pain, and you are madly jealous."

" Jealous ! " cried the young man scornfully, '* of whom } "

" My niece — that man — both of them."

*' Not I. Angry with myself, that's all, for being an
idiot."

" And because you are angry with yourself, you want to
follow and rend that man who knocked you down ; and
because you call yourself an idiot for being deeply attached
to Louise, you are chafing to go after her, and at any cost
bring her back to throw yourself at her feet, and say,
* Don't have him, have me.' "

" Ah ! " cried Leslie furiously. " There, you are an old
man and licensed."

" Yes, I am the licensed master of our family, Leslie,
and I always speak my mind."

" Yes, you sit there talking, when your duty is to follow
and bring your niece back from disgrace," cried the young
man furiously.

" Thank you for teaching me my duty, my lad. You
have had so much more experience than L AH the same,
Duncan LesHe, my hot-headed Scot, I am going to sleep
on it, and that's what I advise you to do. There ; be
reasonable, man. You know you are not in a condition
for dispassionate judgment."

" I tell you any one could judge this case," said Leslie
hotly.

** And I tell you, my dear boy, that it would have puz-
zled Solomon."

" Will you go in search of her directly ? "

" Will I go rut in the dark, and run my head against the
first granite v.dl? No, my boy, I will not."

" Then I must."

"What, run your head agr. n; r wall? "

" Bah ! "

" Look here, Leslie, I've watched you, my lad, for long
enough past. I saw you take a fancy to my darling niece

THE HA UTE NOBLESSE.

337

Louy ; and I felt as if I should like to come behind and
pitch you off the cliff. Then I grew more reasonable, for
I found by careful watching that you were not such a bad
fellow after all, and what was worse, it seemed to me that,
in spite of her aunt's teaching, Louy was growing up into
a clever sensible girl, with only one weakness, and that a
disposition to think a little of you."

Leslie made an angry gesture.

"Come, my lad, I'll speak plainly and put aside all
cynical nonsense. Answer me this : How long have you
known my niece ? "

" What does that matter ? "

" Much. I'll tell you. About a year, and at a distance.
And yet you presume, in your hot-headed, mad, and pas-
sionate way, to sit in judgment upon her and to treat my
advice with contempt."

'* You cannot see it all as I do."

" Thank goodness ! " muttered Uncle Luke.

" You did not witness what I did to-night."

" No. I wish I had been there."

" I wish you had," said Leslie, bitterly.

" Now you are growing wild again. Be calm, and listen.
Now I say you have known our child a few months at a
distance, and you presume to judge her. I have known
her ever since she was the little pink baby which I held in
these hands, and saw smile up in my face. I have known
her as the patient, loving, unwearying daughter, the for-
bearing niece to her eccentric aunt — and uncle, my lad.
You ought to have said that. I have known her these
twenty years as the gentle sister who fought hard to make
a sensible man of my unfortunate nephew. Moreover, I
have known her in every phase, and while I have openly
snarled and sneered at her, I have in my heart groaned
and said to myself, what a different life might mine have
been had I known and won the love of such a woman as
that."

" Oh, yes, I grant all that," said Leslie, hurriedly ; '' but
there was the vein of natural sin within."

" Natural nonsense, sir ! " cried Uncle Luke, angrily.
" How dare you ! A holier, truer woman never breathed."

" Till that scoundrel got hold of her and cursed her
life," groaned Leslie. " Ye^, trample on me. I suppose
I deserve it."

jl' t^\

till

. 1 .' - !

338

T//E HA UTE NOBLESSE.

" Yes," cried the old man, " if only for daring to judge
her, when I tell you. that with all my knowledge of her and
her life, I dare not. No, my lad, I'm going to sleep on it,
and in the morning see if I can't find out the end of the
thread, of the clue which will lead us to the truth."

" There is no need," groaned Leslie. " We know the
truth."

" And don't even know who this man is. No, indeed,
we do not know the truth. All right, my lad, I can read
your looks. I'm a trusting, blind, old fool, am I ? Very
well, jealous pate but I warn you, I'm right and you're
wrong."

" Would to heaven I were ! I'd give ten years of my
life that it could be proved."

" Give ten years of nonsense. How generous people
are at making gifts of the impossible ! But look here,
Duncan Leslie, I'll have you o\\ your knees for this when
we have found out the mystery ; and what looks so black
and blind is as simple as A B C. Trash ! bolt with some
French adventurer ? Our Louy ! Rubbish, sir ! Every-
thing will be proved by-and-by. She couldn't do it.
Loves her poor old father too well. There, once more
take my advice, lie down there and have a nap, and set
your brain to work in the sunshine not in the dark."

" No."

"Going?"

" Yes, I am going. Good night, sir."

** Good night, you great stupid, obstinate, thick-headed
Scotchman," growled Uncle Luke, as he let him out, and
stood listening to his retiring steps. '' I hope you'll slip
over the cliff and half kill yourself. There's something
about Duncan Leslie that I like after all," he muttered, as
he went back to the dining-room, and after a few minutes'
thought, went softly up to hi? brother's chamber, to find
him sleeping heavily from the effect of the sedative given
by the doctor.

Uncle Luke stole out quietly, shook his fist at his sister's
door, and then went below to sit for a while studying
Louise's letter, before lying down to think, and dropping
off to sleep with the comforting self-assurance that all would
come right in the end.

Meanwhile Duncan Leslie had gone down the steep
descent, and made his way to the foot of the cliff-path, up

I i

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

339

judge

;r and

on it,

of the

)W the

ndeed,

n read

Very

you're

of my

people

k here,

s when

black

h some

Every-

do it.

:e more

nd set

leaded
lut, and

11 slip
nething
ered, as
linutes'

to find
given

sister's
tr.dying
ropping

1 would

steep
)ath, up

which, with brain and heart throbbing painfully, ne slowly
tramped. The night was dull and cold, and as he ascended
toward Luke Vine's rough cottage, he thought of how often
he had met Louise on her way up there to her uncle's ;
and how he had often remained at a distance watching from
his own place up at the mine the graceful form in its simple
attire, and the sweet, earnest face, whose eyes used once
to meet his so kindly, and with so trusting a look.

" Sleep on it ! " he said, as he recalled the old man's
words. " No sleep will ever make me think differently.
I must have been mad — I must have been mad."

He had reached the old man's cottage, and almost un-
consciously stopped and seated himself on the rough block
of granite which was Uncle Luke's favourite spot when the
sun shone.

33efore him lay the sea spreading out deep and black,
and as impenetrable as to its mysteries as the blank future
he sought to fathom, and as he looked ahead, the sea, the
sky, the future all seemed to grow more black.

His had been a busy life ; school, where he had been
ambitious to excel ; college, svhere he had worked still
more hard for honours, with the intention of studying
afterwards for the bar ; but fate had directed his steps in
another direction, and through an uncle's wish and sug-
gestions, backed by the fact that he held the mine, Duncan
L ,blie found himself, when he should have been eating his
dinners at the Temple, partaking of them in the far West
of England, with a better appetite, ana perhaps with better
prospects from a monetary point of view.

His had been so busy a life that the love-idleness com-
plaint of a young man was long in getting a hold, but when
it did seize him, the malady was the more intense.

He sat there upon the old, worn piece of granite, making
no effort to go farther, but letting his memory drift back to
those halcyon days when he had first begun to know that
he possessed a heart disposed to turn from its ordinary
force-i)ump work to the ])laying of a sentimental jiart such
as had stranded him where he was, desolate and despair-
ing, a wreck with his future for ever spoiled.

He argued on like that, sometimes with tender recollec-
tions of happy days when he had gone back home from
some encounter, with accelerated pulses and a sensation
of hope and joy altogether new.

He dwelt upon one particular day when he had come

-ti.

ii\i

340

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

\-'A ivn

down from the mine to find Louise seated where he then
was ; and as he recalled the whole scene, he uttered a groan
of misery, and swept it away by the interposition of that
of the previous evening ; and here his wrath once more
grew hot against the man who had come between them,
for without vanity he could feel that Louise had turned
toward him at one time, and that after a while the memory
of the trouble which had come upon them would have
grown more faint, and then she would once more have lis-
tened to his suit.

But for that man — He ground his teeth as he recalled
Aunt Marguerite's hints and smiles ; the allusions to the
member of the French haute iioblesse ; their own connec-
tion with the blue blood of Gaul, and his own plebeian
descent in Aunt Marguerite's eyes. And now that the
French noble had arrived, how noble he was in presence
and in act ! Stealing clandestinely into the house during
the father's absence, forcing the woman he professed to
love into obedience by threats, till she knelt at his feet as
one who pleads for mercy.

"And this is the haute noblesse !" cried LesHe, with a
mocking laugh. " Thank heaven, I am only a commoner
after all."

He sat trying to compress his head with his hands, for
it ached as if it would split apart. The cool night breeze
came off the sea, moist and bearing refreshment on its
wings ; but Duncan LesHe found no comfort in the deep
draught he drank. His head burned, his heart felt on fire,
and he gazed straight before him into the blackness trying
to make out his path. What should he do ? Act like a
man and cast her off as unworthy of a second thought, or
rouse himself to the manly and forgiving part of seeking
her out, dragging her from this scoundrel, and placing her
back in her stricken father's arms ?

It was a hard fight, fought through the darkness of that
terrible night, as he sat there on the rock, with the wind
sighing from off the sea, and the dull, low boom of the
v/c».ves as they broke at the foot of the cliff far below.

It was a fight between love and despair, between love
and hate, between the spirit of a true, honest man who
loved once in his life, and the cruel spirits of suspicion,
jealousy, and malignity, which tortured him with their
suggestions of Louise's love for one who had tempted her
to leave her father's home.

i .(!^

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

As the day approached the air grew colder, but Duncan
Leslie's brow still burned, and his heart seemed on fire.
The darkness grew more dense, and the fight still raged.

What should he do? The worse side of his fallible
human nature was growing the stronger ; and as he felt
himself yielding, the greater grew his misery and despair.

" My darling ! " he groaned aloud, " I loved you — I
loved you with all my heart."

He started, alarmed at his own words, and gazed wildly
round as if expecting that some one might have heard.
But he was quite alone, and all was so dark right away
ahead. Was there no such thing as hope for one stricken
as he ? The answer to his wild, mental appeal seemed to
come from the far east, for he suddenly became conscious
of a pale, pearly light which came from far down where
sea and sky were mingled to the sight. That pale, soft
light grew and grew, seeming to slowly suffuse the eastern
sky, till all at once he caught sight of a fiery flake far on
high, of another, and another, till the whole arc of heaven
was ablaze with splendour from which the sea borrowed
glistening dyes.

And as he gazed the tears rose to his ey^b, and seemed
to quench the burning fire in his brain, as a fragment which
he had read floated through his memory : —

" Joy cometh in the morning — joy cometh in the
morning."

Could joy ever again come to such a one as he ? He
asked the question half-bitterly. as he confessed that the
dense blackness had passed away, and that hope might
still rise upon his life, as he now saw that glittering orb of
light rise slowly above the sea, and transform the glorious
world with its golden touch.

'* No, no," he groaned, as he rose to go on at last to his
desolate home. " I am broken with the fight. I can do no
more, and there is no cure for such a blow as mine.
Where could I look for help? "

" Yes ; there," he said resignedly. " I'll bear it like a
man," and as he turned he resled his hand upon the rough
granite wall to gaze dovvni the path, and drew back with a
curious catching of the breath, as he saw the light garments
of a woman pass a great patch of the black shaly rock.

Madelaine Van Heldre was hurrying up the cliff path
towards where he had passed those long hours of despair.

34*

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

CHAPTER LII.

A STRANGE SUMMONS.

Madelaine Van Heldre closed the book and sat by the
little table gazing towards her father's bed.

Since he had been sufficiently recovered she had taken her
father's task, and read the chapter and prayers night and
morning in his bedroom — a little later on this night, for
George Vine had stayed longer than usual.

Madelaine sat looking across the chamber at where her
father lay back on his pillow with his eyes closed, and her
mother seated by the bed's head holding his hand, the
hand she had kept in hers during the time she knelt and
ever since she had risen from her knees.

Incongruous thoughts come at the best of times, and,
with the tears standing in her eyes, Madelaine thought of
her many encounters with Aunt Marguerite, and of the
spiteful words. She did not see why a Dutchman should not
be as good as a Frenchman, but all the same there was a
little of the love of descent in her heart, and as she gazed
at the fine manly countenance on the pillow, with its closely-
cut grey hair displaying the broad forehead, and at the
clipped and pointed beard and moustache, turned quite
white, she thought to herself that if Aunt Marguerite could
see her father now she would not dare to argue about his
descent.

The veil of tears grew thicker in her eyes, and one great
drop fell with a faint /rt:/ upon the cover of ^he prayer-book
as she thought of the past, and that the love in her heart
would not be divided now. It would be all for those before
her, and help to make their path happier to the end.

" ' And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them
that trespass against us,' " said Van Heldre thoughtfully.
" Grand words, wife — grand words. Hah ! I feel wonder-
fully better to-night. George Vine acted like a tonic. I've
lain here hours thinking that our old companionship would
end, but I feel at rest now. His manner seemed to say

I i

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

343

that the old brotherly feeling would grow stronger, and
that the past was to be forgotten."

He stopped short, and a faint flush came into his pale
cheeks, for on opening his eyes they had encountered the
wistful look in Madelaine's. He had not thought of her
sufferings, but now with a rush came the memories of her
confession to him of her love for Harry, on that day when
she had asked him to take the young man into his office.

" My darling ! " he said softly as he held out his arms ;
and the next moment she was folded sobbing to his heart.

No word was spoken till the nightly parting ; no word
could have been spoken that would have been more touch-
ing and soothing than that eml)race.

Then '* Good night ! " and Madelaine sought the solitude
of her own chamber, to sit by the open window listening
to the faintly heard beat of the waves upon the bar at the
mouth of the harbour. Her spirit was low, and the hidden
sorrow that she had fought hard to keep down all through
the past trouble had its way for the time, till, at last
wearied out, she closed her window and went to bed. Still
for long enough it was not to sleep, but to think of the old
boy-and-girl days, when Harry was merely thoughtless,
and the better part of his nature, his frank kindness and
generosity, had impressed her so that she had grown to
love him with increasing years, and in spite of his follies
that love still lay hidden in her heart.

" And always will be there," she said softly, as she felt
that the terrible end had been the expiation, and with the
thought that in the future Harry Vine, forgiven, purified —
the Harry of the past — would always be now the frank,
manly youth she idealised, she dropped off to sleep — a
deep, restful slumber, from which she started with the
impression full upon her that she had only just closed her
eyes. There must have been some noise to awaken her,
and she sat up listening, to see that it was day.

" Yes ? Did any one knock ? " she said aloud, for the
terror was upon her now, one which had often haunted her
during the unnerving past days— that her father had been
taken worse.

All silent.

Then a sharp pattering noise at her window, as if some
one had thrown up some shot or pebbles. She hurried out
of bed, and ran to the window to peep through the slit

344

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

beside the blind, to sec below in the street Liza, the Vines'
maid, staring uj).

" Louise — ill? or Mr. Vine?" thought Madelaine, as she
quickly unfastened and opened the window.

'* Yes, Liza. Quick ! what is it ? "

*' Oh, miss, I've been awake all night, and, not knowing
what to do, and so I come on."

"Is Mr. Vine ill? "

*' No, 'm ; Miss Louise."

" 111? I'll come on at once."

" No, miss ; gone," whisjK'red Liza hoarsely ; and in a
blundering way she whisi)ered all she knew.

" I'll come on and see Mr. Vine," said Madelaine hastily,
and Liza ran back while her blundering narrative, h-^slily
delivered, had naturally a confusing effect upon one just
awakened from sleep.

Louise gone, Mr. Leslie found bleeding, Mr. Vine sitting
alone in his room busy over the mollusks in his aquaria !
It seemed impossible. Aunt Marguerite hysterical.
Everything so strange.

No mention had been made of Uncle Luke by the girl,
nor yet of Leslie's departure.

" Am I still dreaming ? " Madelaine asked herself as she
hastily dressed, " or has some fresh terrible disaster come
upon us ? "

" Upon ?/j," she said, for the two families seemed so
drawn together that one could not suffer without thrilling
the other's nerves.

" Louise gone ! It is impossible ! "

She said that again and again, trying all the while to be
cool and think out what were best to be done. She felt
that it would be better not to alarm her father by waking
him at that early hour, and that she could not arouse her
mother without his knowing.

She was not long in deciding.

Uncle Luke had shown during the troubles of the past
how he could throw aside his eccentricity and become a
useful, helpful counsellor, and it seemed the natural thing
to send a message up to him, and beg him to come down.
Better still, to save time, she would run up there first.

Liza had not been gone a quarter of an hour before
Madelaine was well on her way, after stealing silently out
of the house.

11 '

;■ I m '

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

345

The effort to be calm was iinavailin[.% for a wild fit of
excitement was growing upon her, and instead of walking
up the steep ciiff path, she nearly ran.

Would Uncle Luke be at home? He was eccentric and
strange in his habits, and perhaps by that time out and
away fishing off some rocky point.

She scanned the rough pier by the harbour, and shud-
dered as the scene of that horrible night came back. But
there was no sign of the old man there, neither could she
see iiim farther away, and feeling hopeful that perhaps she
would be in time to catch him, she hurried on, panting. As
she turned a corner of the devious way, and came in sight of
the cottage, with Leslie's hou^ e and mine chimney far up
at the back, she stopped short, breathless and wondering,
and with a strange reaction at work, suggesting that after
all, this was some mythical invention on the part of the
servant, for there, stood Duncan Leslie outside Uncle
Luke's cottage awaiting her coming.

CHAPTER LIIL

HER DEFENDER.

to be
ie felt

aking
le her

past
)me a
thing
town,
it.

)efore
ly out

" Miss Van Heldrk ! "

" Mr. Leslie 1 That woman came to our house this
morning to say Oh, then, it is not true ? "

" Yes," he said slowly ; " it is all true."

" True that — that you were hurt — that — that Oh,

pray speak ! Louise — Louise ! "

" Gone ! " said Leslie hoarsely, and, sick at heart and
suffering, he leaned back against the wall.

" Gone ? Louise gone ? Gone where ? "

Leslie shook his head mournfully, and gazed out to sea.

"Why do you not speak? "cried Madelaine. "Can
you not see how your silence troubles me? Mr. Leslie,
what is the matter? You were found hurt— and Louise —
gone I What does it mean ? "

He shook his head again.

" Where is Mr. Luke Vine? " cried Madelaine, turning
from him quickly.

" At the house."

!'l

346

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

"Then I have come here for nothing," she cried
agitatedly. " Mr. Leslie, i)ray, pray speak."

He looked at her wisUiiUy lor a few moments.

" What am I to say? " he said at last.

"Tell me— everything."

He still remained retentive ; l)iit tliere was a grim smile
full of pity and contemi)t for himselt upon his lips as he
said coldly —

" Monsieur de Ligny has been."

" Monsieur de Ligny ? "

"The French gentleman, the member of the haute
noblesse who was to marry Miss Vine."

Madelaine looked at him wonderingly.

" Mr. Leslie," she said, laying her hand ui)on his arm,
and believing that she saw delirium in his eyes, consequent
upon his injury, her late experience having made her prone
to anticii)ate such a sequel. " Mr. Leslie, do you know
what you are saying? "

" Yes, perfectly," he said slowly. " Monsieur de Ligny
the French gentleman of whom Miss Marguerite so often
talked to me, came last night, while Mr. Vine was at your
father's, and he was persuading Louise to go with him,
when I interfered and said she should not go till her father
returned."

"Yes? — well?" said Madelaine, watching him keenly.

" Well, there was a struggle, ".nd I go; the worst of it.
That's r.l].''

" That is not all ! '' cried Madelaine angrily. " Louise,
what did she say ? "

" Begged him — not to press her to go," he said slowly
and unwillingly, as if the words were being dragged out of
him.

"Yes?"

"That is all," he said, still in the same slow, half-
dreamy way. " I heard no more. When I came to, the
Vines were helping me, and "

" Louise? "

" Louise was gone."

" Mr. Leslie," said Madclnlne gently, as in a gentle,
sympathetic wr.y she laid her hand upon his arm. " You
seem to have been a good deal hurt. I win not press you
to speak. I'm afraid you hardly know what you say.
This cannot be true."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

347

cried

smile
as he

haute

IS arm,
equent
r prone
L know

s Ligny
io often
at your
th him,
r father

keenly,
t of it.

.ouise

slowly
out of

w, half-
to, the

gentle,
'< You
ress you
ou say.

" Would to Heaven it wtie not ! " he cried i)assIonately.
" You think 1 am wandering. No, iv., no ; I wish I could
convince myself that it was. She is gone gone ! "

'* Gone ? J.ouisc gone ? It cannot be."

"Yes," he said bitterly; "it is true. I suppose when
a man once gets a strong liold upon a woman's heart she
is ready to be his slave, and obey him to the end. I don't
know. I never won a woman's love."

" His slave — obey — but who— who is this man? "

'' iMonsieur de Ligny, I suppose. The French noble-
man."

Madelaine made a gesticulation with her hands, as if
throwing the idea aside.

" No, no, no," she said impatiently. *' It is impossible,
de Ligny — de Ligny ? You mean that Louise Vine, my
dear friend, my sister, was under the influence of some
French gentleman unknown to me ? "

" Unknown to her father too," said Leslie bitterly, '' for
he reviled me when I told him."

" I cannot do that," said Madelaine firmly ; '' but I tell
you it is not true."

"As you will," he said coldly; "but I saw her at his
knees last night."

" De Ligny— a French gentleman ? "

"Yes."

" I tell you it is impossible."

" But she has gone," said Leslie coldly.

"Gone? I cannot believe it. M'*. Y'ine? He knows
where ? "

Leslie shook his head mournfully. " Some secret love,"
he said.

" Yes ; Louise did nurture a secret love," said Madelaine
scornfully, " and for a man unworthy of her."

" Poor girl ! "

" Yes ; poor girl ! Shame upon you, Duncan Leslie !
She may be gone for some good reason, but it is not as
you say and think. Louise, my sister, my poor suffering
friend, carry on a clandestine intrigue with some French
gentleman ? It is not true."

" You forget her aunt — the influence she has had upon
the poor girl."

*' I forget everything but the fact that Louise loved you,
Duncan Leslie, with all her heart."

" No, no," he cried with an angry start.

n ;

348

T//I^ HAUrR NOBLESSE.

" I tell you it is true," cried Madelaine. " De Ligny ?
— a French nobleman? Absurd! A fable invented by
that poor old naif-crazy woman to irritate you and scare
you away

"I might have thought so once, but after what I saw
last night ''

" A jealous man surrounds all he sees with a glamour of
his own,'' cried Madelaine. "Oh where is your reason ?
How could you be so ready to believe it of the truest,
sweetest girl that ever lived ! "

"But "

" Don't speak to me," cried Madelaine, angrily. "You
know what that old woman i: with her wild ideas about
birth and position. Louise, deceive her father — cheat me
— elope ! Duncan Leslie, I did not think you could be so
weak."

" I will not fight against your reproaches," he said, coldly.

" No. Come with me. Let us go down and see Uncle
Luke."

" But you really think ' he faltered.

" I really tliink ? " she cried with her eyes flashing.
" Am I to lose all faith and confidence in you ? I tell you
what you say is impossible."

Her words, her manner, sent flashes of hope through the
darkness that haunted Leslie's spirit, and without a wo;d
he turned and walked luirriedly down with her toward the
town till they reached th,^ seat in the sheltered niche, where
he had had that memorable conversation with Aunt Mar-
guerite.

There he paused, and pointed ^o the seat.

"She sat there with me," he said bitterly, " and poured
her poison into my ears till under a smiling face I felt half
mad. I have tried so hard to free myself from their effect,
but it has been hard — so hard. And last night "

" You saw something which shook your confidence in
Louise for the moment, but that is all gone now."

" I think— I "

" I vouch for my friend's truth," said Madelaine proudly.
" I tell you that you have been deceived."

Leslie was ghastly pale, and the injury he had received
and the incntal agony of the past night made him look

ten years older, as he drev/ in a catching breath, and then
said hastily —

" Come on, and let us find out the truth."

THE HAUTE XOBLESSE,

349

CHAPTER LIV.

AUNT MARGUERITE FINDS A FRIEND.

Uncle Luke met them at the garden gate, and took
Madelaine's hands in his, drawing her towards him, and
kissing her brow.

*' Tell me, Mr. Luke," she said quickly, '• it is not trie ? "

" What he says is not true, Maddy," said the old man
quietly.

" But Louise ? "

'' Gone, my dear. Left here last night. No," he con-
tinued, " we know nothing except what her letter says.
She has good reason for what she has done, no doubt, but
it is very terrible for my brother."

Madelainc darted a triumphant look at Leslie.

" Look here, my child," said Uncle Luke, " I am uneasy
about George. Go in and see him, and if he says any-
thing about Louy, you will side with me and take her
part?"

" Do you think I could believe it of Louise ? " said
Madelaine, proudly.

Uncle Luke held her hand in his, patting it softly the
while.

" No," he said, " I don't think you could. Go to him
now. Tell him it will all be cleared up some day, perhaps
sooner than we think."

" Where is he ? " she said quietly.

"In his study."

She nodded her head with a confident look in her eyes,
crossed the hall, and tapped at the study door.

" Come in."

The words bidding her to enter were uttered in so calm
and matter-of-fact a way, that Madelaine felt startled, and
Uncle Luke's words, " T am uneasy about George," came
with a meaning they had nut before possessed.

She entered and stopjied sliort, for there before the
open window, close to which was a glass vessel full of

ma^f^wr^^^^mmmm^fm^

3SO

T/f£ HAUTE NOBLESSE,

>ii

water, stood George Vine, busy with .i microscope, by
whose help he was carefully examining the structure of
some minute organism, while one busy hand made notes
upon a sheet of paper at his side.

His face was from her, and he was so intent upon his
task that he did not turn his head.

"Breakfast?'' he said quietly. "I shall not have any.
Yes," he added hastily ; " bring a cup of tea, Liza — no
sugar, and a little dry toast."

A pang shot through Madelaine's heart, and for a few
moments she strove vainly to speak.

" It is I, Mr. Vine," she faltered at last in a voice she did
not recognise as her own.

" Madelaine, my child ! " he cried, starting and dropping
his pencil as he turned. " How rude of me ! so intent
upon this beautiful preparation of mine here. Very, very
glad to see you," he continued, as he took her hands in his.
" How is your father this morning ? "

" I — I have not seen him this morning," faltered Made-
laine, iir- she gazed upon the pale, lined face before her, to
note the change thereon, in spite of the unnatural calmness
which the old man had assumed, ** I — I came on at once,
as soon as I had heard.''

He drew in a long breath as if her words were cutting
him. Then raising her hands to his lips he kissed them
tenderly.

" Like you," he said gently, " like you, my child. There,
I have nothing to say, nothing to hear."

** But dear Mr. Vine," cried Madelaine, as she clung to
him, and her tears fell fast, '• I am sure "

He smiled down at her lovingly, as he kissed her hand
again.

" Spare me, my child," he said. " Never mention her
name again."

" But, Mr. Vine "

" Hush, my dear ! It is like you," he whispered.
" Good, gentle and forgiving. Let the whole of the past
be dead."

*' But, Mr. Vine, Louise — "

'* Hush ! " he said sternly. " There, come and sit down
and talk to me. No, my dear, I had a nasty fainting attack
last night, but I am not mad. You need not fear that.
Let the past be dead, my child. Will you bring me some
tea ? "

I'l

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

lit

3pe, by
iture of
t notes

poll his

ive any.
aza — no

or a few

I she did

iropping
10 intent
ery, very
ds in his.

-d Made-
re her, to
calmness
L at once,

e cutting
ed them

I. There,

clung to

her hand

tion her

|hispered.
the past

sit down

ng attack

Ifear that.

me some

Madelaine's face worked pitifully, as she clung to him for
a few moments, and then as he resumed his place at the
tabic, she felt that the hour was not opjjortune, a"d turned
to leave the room.

At that moment there was a gentle tap at t'le door.

" See who that is, my child,'' said Vine, caietly ; •' and
do not let me be interrupted. If it is my :^' other, ask him
not to speak to me to-day."

Tvladelaine crossed quickly to the old man's side, bent
over him, and kissed his forehead, before going to the door,
tc find Uncle Luke waiting.

" Maddy," he whispered, " tell my brother that Margaret
v/ants to see her. Ask him if she may come in."

Madelaine took the message, and felt startled at the
angry look in the old man's face.

" No," he cried peremptorily. *' I could not bear to see
her Maddy, my darling, you arc almost like a daughter
to me. You know all. Tell her from me to keep to her
room, I could not trust myself to see her now."

Madelaine clung to him, with the tears gathering in her
eyes. From her earliest childhood she had looked up to
him as to srnie near relative, who had treated her as he
had treated his own child — her companion, Louise ; and
now as she saw the agony depicted in his face, she suffered
with him, and in her womanly sympathy her tears still fell
fast.

" But, dear Mr. Vine," she whispered, " forgive me for
pressing you at such a time, but there is some mistake."

" Yes," he said sternly ; and she shivered as she saw
how he was changed, and heard how harsh his voice had
grown. " Yes, Madelaine, my child, there has been a
terrible mistake made by a weak, infatuated man, who
acted on impulse, and never lei his mind stray from the
hobby he ])ursued — mine."

" Mr. Vine ! "

" Hush, my child, I know. You arc going to say words
that 1 could not bear to lear now. I know what 1 have
dtne, I see it too plainly now. In my desire to play a
kindly brother's part, I let that of a father lapse, and my
I'Unishment has come — doubly come.''

'' If you would only let me speak," she winspered.

" Not now — n.ot now. I wn lu strcngrh first to bear my
punishment, to bear it patiently as a man."

SI ' '111
I i 1 ^k

352

T//E HAUTE NOBLESSE.

It seemed to be no time to argue and plead her friend's

cause, but she still clung to him.

" Bear with me," he whispered. " I am net going to
reproach you for what you have said. There, my dear,
leave me now."

Madelaine sighed, and with her brow wrinkled by the
lines of care, she stood watching the old man as he bent
over his microscope once more, and then softly left the
room.

*' Well?" said Uncle Luke 'eagerly, as she joined him in
the hall. "' What does he say ? "

" That he will not see her. That he could not trust
himself to meet her now."

''Ah!';

Madelaine started, and turned sharply round as a piteous
wail fell upon her ears.

Aunt Marguerite was standing within the dining-room
door, wringing her hands, and looking wild and strange.

" I can't bear it," she cried. *' I can't bear it. He
thinks it is my fault. Go in and tell him, Luke. He must
not, he shall not blame me."

" Let him alone for a bit," said Luke, coldly.

" But he thinks it is all my fault. I want to tell him — I
want him to know that it is no fault of mine."

" Can't convince him of impossibilities," said Uncle
Luke coldly.

" And you think it, too ! " cried Aunt Marguerite pas-
sionately. " I will see him."

"Go up to your room and wait a bit. That's the best
advice I can give you."

" But George will "

" Say things to you that will be rather startling to your
vain old brain, Madge, if you force yourself upon him, and
I'll take care that you do not."

" And this is my brother ! " cried Aunt Marguerite in-
dignantly.

*' LTncle Luke is right," said Madelaine quietly, speak-
ing of him as in the old girlish days. " If I might advise
you. Miss Vine."

" Miss Margue — No, no," cried the old lady, hastily.
" Miss Vine ; yes, Miss Vine. Vou will help me, my
child. I want my brother to know that it is not my fault."

The old contemptuous manner was gone, and she caught

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

353

fiend's

Ding to
yr dear,

by the
le bent
left the

him in

ot trust

piteous

ng-room
ange.
it. He
Se must

him — I
i Uncle
rite pas-
he best

to your
lim, and

lerite in-

r, speak-
it advise

I, hastily.

me, my

ly fault."

le caught

Madclaine's arm and pressed it spasmodically with her
iioiiy fingers.

" You could not go to Mr. Vine at a worse time," said
Madelaine. " He is suffering acutely."

" But if you come with me," whispered Aunt Marguerite.
'* Oh, my child, I have been very, very hard to you, but
you will not turn and trample on me now 1 am down."

" 1 will help you all I can," said Madelaine gravely ;
'* and I am helping you now in advising you to wait."

" I — I thought it was for the best," sobbed the old lady
piteously. *' Hush ! don't speak to me aloud. Mr. Leslie
may hear."

She glanced sharply round lo where Leslie was stand-
ing with his back to them, gazing moodily from the win-
dow.

" Yes ; Mr. Leslie may hear," said Madelaine sadly ;
and then in spite of the long years of dislike engendered
by Aunt Marguerite's treatment, she felt her heart stirred
by pity for the lonely, suffering old creature upon who.se
head was being visited the sufferings of the stricken house-
hold.

" Let me go with you to your room," she said gently.

" No, no ! " cried Aunt Marguerite, with a frightened
look. '' You hate me too, and you will join the others in
condemning me. Let me go to my brother now."

" It would be madness," said Madelaine gently ; and she
tried to take the old woman's hand, but at that last word,
Aunt Marguerite started from her, and stretched out her
hands to keep her off.

" Don't say that," she said in a low voice, and with a
quick glance at her brother and at Leslie, to see if they
had heard. Then catching Madeline's hand, she whis-
pered, " It is such a horrible word. lAike said it to me
before you came. He said I must be mad, and George
might hear it and think so too."

" Let me go with you to your room."

" Btit— but," faltered the old woman, with her lips quiv-
ering, and a wildly appealing look in her eyes, " you— you
don't think that ? "

" No," said Madelaine, quietly ; " I do not think that."

Aunt Marguerite uttered a sigh full of relief.

" I only think," continued Madelaine in her matter-of-
fact, straightforward way, '• that you have been very vain,

''■irk'

.fi?l'. ■

354

T//E HAUTE NOBLESSE.

prejudiced, and foolish, but I am wrong to reproach you

now.

" No, no," whispered Aunt Marguerite clinging to her,
and looking at her in an abject, piteous way ; " you are
quite right, my dear. Come with me, talk to me, my
child. I deserve what you say, and — and I feel so lonely
now."

She glanced again at her brother and Leslie, and her
grasp of Madelaine's arm grew painful.

*' Yes," she whispered, with an excited look ; " you are
right, I must not go to him now. Don't let them think
that of me. I know — I've been very — very foolish, but
don't— don't let them think that."

She drew Madelaine toward the door, and in pursuance
of her helpful role^ the latter went with her patiently, any
resentment which she might have felt toward her old
enemy falling away at the pitiful signs of abject misery
and dread before her ; the reigning idea in the old lady's
mind now being that her brothers would nurture some
plan to get rid of her, whose result would be one at which
she shuddered, as in her heart of hearts she knew that if
such extreme measures w^re taken, her conduct for years
would give plenty of excuse.

CHAPTER LV.

HALF CONVERTED.

** Well, Leslie," said Uncle Luke, as he stood gazing at
the closed door through which the two women had passed,
'* What do you think of that ? "

" Think of that? " said Leslie absently.

'' Those two. Deadly enemies grown friends. My sis-
ter will be adopting you directly, you miserable low-born
Scotch pleb, without a drop of noble French blood in your
veins."

" Poor old woman ! " said Leslie absently.

" Ah, poor old woman I Margaret and I ought to be
shut up together in some private asylum. AVell, you have
blept on all that? "

f-'

•im

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

3SS

" No," said Leslie sadly. '' I have not slept."

" You're— well, I won't say what you are— well?"

♦' Well ? " said Leslie, sadly.

" You have come to your senses, I hope."

'' Had I lost them ? "

'' Pro tern., young man. And it is a usurpation of our
rights. One lunatic family is enough in a town. We're
all off our heads, so you had better keep sane."

Leslie remained silently thinking over Madelaine's
words.

" Look here," said Uncle Luke. " I have slept upon it,
and I am cool."

" What nave you learned, sir ? "

" Nothing but what I knew last night — at present."

" And what do you propose doing ? "

*' I propose trying to act as nearly like a quite sensible
man as one of my family can."

" And Mr. Vine ? "

" As much like a lunatic as he can. You had better
take his side and leave me alone. He is of your opinion."

" And you remain steadfast in yours ? "

'^ Of course, sir. I've known my niece from a child, as
I told you last night ; and she could not behave like a
weak, foolish, brainless girl, infatuated over some hand-
some scoundrel."

*^ But Miss Marguerite — have you questioned her?"

'' Might as well question a weather-cock. Knows
nothing, or pretends she knows nothing. There, I'm
going to start at once and see if I cannot trace her out.
While I'm gone I should feel obliged if you would keep an
eye on my cottage ; one way and another there are quite
a couple of pounds' worth of things up yonder which I
should not like to have stolen. You may as well come
down here too, and see how my brother is going on. Now
then, I'll just step down to Van Heldre's and say a word
before I start."

'' By what train shall you go ? "

'•' Train ? Oh, yes, I had almost forgotten trains.
Hateful way of travelling, but saves time. Must arrange
to be driven over to catch one at mid-day. Come and see
me off."

'' Yes," said Leslie, '^ I'll come and see you off. What
shall you take with you ? "

t '

M'-

I! I

11 S'

356

y/Zi? HAUTE NOBLESSE.

" Tooth-brush and comb," grunted Uncle Luke. " Dcs-
say I shall find a bit of soap somewhere. Now then, have
you anything to say before I go ? "

" There is no occasion ; we can make our plans as we
go up."

"We?"

" Yes ; I am going with you."

Uncle Luke smiled.

" I knew you would/' he said, quietly chuckling.

" You knew I should ? Why did you think that ? "

" Because you're only a big boy after all, Duncan, and
show how fond you are of Louy at every turn."

" I am not ashamed to own that I loved her," said the
young man, bitterly.

"Loved?" said Uncle Luke, quietly. " Wonder what
love's like, to make a man such a goose. Don't be a
sham, Leslie- You always meant to go. You said to
yourself, when you thought ill of the poor girl, you would
go after her and try and break the man's neck."

" Not exactly, sir."

" Well, something of the kind. And now Maddy Van
Held re has been giving you a good setting down, and
showing you what a weak baby you are-

" Has Miss Van Heldre-

*' No, Miss Van Heldre has not said a word ; but your
face is as plain as a newspaper, and I know what Maddy
would say if anybody attacked my niece. There, what's
the use of talking ? You will say with your lips that
Louise is nothing to you now, and that you believe she
has eloped with some French scoundrel."

Leslie bit his lip and made an impatient gesture.

" While that noble countenance of yours, of which you
are so proud, has painted upon it love and trust and hope,
and all the big-boy nonsense in which young men indulge
when they think they are only a half, which needs another
half to make them complete."

'•' I am not going to quarrel with you," said Leslie, flush-
ing angrily, all the same.

"" No, my boy, you are not. You are coming with me,
my unfortunate young hemisphere, to try and find that
other half to which you shall some day be joined to make
you a complete little world of trouble of your own, to roll
slowly up the hill of life, hang on the top for a few hours,

••fl-

'sM^^

THE HAUTE XOHLESSE.

357

" Des-
;n, have

IS as we

t?"
can, and

said the

der what
n't be a
, said to
ou would

iddy Van
own, and

but your

Maddy

, what's

ips that

ieve she

re.

hich you
indhope,
indulge
s another

jlie, flush-

with me,

find that

to make

irn, to roll

ew hours,

and then roll rapidly down. 'J'licre. we have wasted time
enougli in talking, and I'll hold off. Thank ye, though,
Leslie, you're a good fellow after all."

He held out his hand, which Leslie slowly -took, and
Uncle Luke was shaking it warmly as Madelaine re-
entered the room.

"■ Well," said the old man grimly, " have you put the
baby to bed ? "

** Uncle Luke ! " said ^Ladelaine imploringly , " pray be
serious and helj) us."

" Serious, my girl ! I was never so serious before. I
only called Margaret a baby. So she is in intellect, and a
very troublesome and mischievous one. Glad to see
though that my little matter-of-fact Dutch doll has got the
better of her. Why, Maddy, henceforth, you'll be able to
lead her with a silken string."

" Uncle Luke dear — Louise," said Madelaine implor-
ingly.

"Ah, to ])e sure, yes, Louise," said the old man with his
eyes twinkling mischievously. " Circumstances alter
cases. Now look here,, you two. I'm only an old man,
and of course thoroughly in your confidence. Sort of
respectable go-between. Why shouldn't 1 try and make
you two happy? "

Leslie bit his lip, and Madelaine gave the old man an
imploring look ; but in a mocking way he went on :

" Now suppose I say to you two, what can be better
than for you to join hands — partners for life, you know,
and, "

"Mr. Luke Vine !" cried Leslie sternly, "setting aside
the insult to me, is this gentlemanly to annoy Miss Van
Heldre with your mocking, ill-chosen jokes?"

" Hark at the hot-blooded Scotchman, Maddy ; and look
here how pleasantly and patiently my little Dutch doll
takes it, bless her ! "

He put his arm round M jJclaine and held her to his
side.

"Why, what are you rutfling up for in that fashion?
Only a few minutes ago you were swearing that you hated
Louy, and that you gave her u^) to the French nobleman
— French nobleman, Maddy !— and I offer you a i)leasant
anodyne for your sore heart — ond a very pleasant anodyne
too, eh, Maddy? Ah, don't— don't cry— hang it all, girl,

.:-:i

3S8

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

^ow

m ' ■;

don't. I do hate to see a woman with wet eyes,
what have you got to sob about ? "

" Is this helping us?"

*' No. But I'm going to, httle one. I was obhged to
stick something into LesHe, here. He is such a humbug.
Swore he didn't care a bit for Louy now, and that he
beheved everything that was bad of her, and yet look at his
face."

" It is impossible to quarrel with you, sir," said Leslie,
with the look of a human mastiff

"Of course it is," cried Uncle Luke. "Well, Maddy,
I've converted him. He sees now that it's a puzzle we
don't understand, and he is coming up to town with me
to solve the problem."

" I knew he would," cried Madelaine warmly. " Mr.
Leslie, I am very, very gkid."

'* Of course, you are ; and as soon as I bring Louy back,
and all is cleared, Leslie shall come and congratulate us.
D'ye hear, Leslie ? I'am going to marry Madelaine. Marry
her and stoj) up in tlv churchyard afterwards," he said
with a grim smile full ■ piteous sadness.

" Uncle Luke 1 '

"Well, it's riglu enough, my dear. At my time of life
hardly worth while to make two journeys up i^o the church-
yard. So you could leave me there and go backhand take
possession of my estate."

" Louise."

"Ah, yes. I mustn't forget Louise," said the old man.
" Let's see — about Margaret. Leave her all right ? "

" Yes ; she is more calm now."

" Did you cpiestion her, and get to know anything? "

" Nothing."

"Humph!" ejaculated the old man. "Close as an
oyster, or else she doesn't know anything."

"That is what I think," said Madelaine eagerly.

" Ah, well, we are only wasting time," said Uncle Luke
testily. "So now, Leslie, business. First ihing we have
to do is to go up to London. No ; first thii g, Maddy, is
to run on to your house, and tell ihem what we are going
to do. You'll have to stay here, my dear, and look after
those two. Comfort George all you can ; drive him with
that silken thread rein of yours, and keep a good tight curb
over Margaret. There, you'll manage them."

THE HAUTE NO BLESS E.

359

Now

;ed to

mbug.
hat he
K at his

Leslie,

Maddy,
zzle we
krith me

((

Mr.

ly back,

late lis.

Marry

he said

e of life

church-

md take

" Yes. Tell them at home 1 think it better to stay here
now," said Madjlainc earnestly. '* Wm will send me every
scrap of news ? "

" Leslie and I are going to secure the wire and run our-
selves in telegrams. Ready, Miner ? "

"Yes."

"Then come on."

Madelaine caught Leslie's extended liand, and leaned
towards liim.

" My liic on it," she whispered " Louise is true."

He wrung ii'-r hand and luirried awa\.

" Good-bye, Uncle Luke. JJe happy about them here ;
and, mind, we are dying for news."

" Ah ! yes ; I know," he said testily ; and he walked
away — turned back, and caught ^Lxdelaine to his l)reast.
" Good-bye, Dutch doll. God bless you, my darling," he
said huskily. " If 1 could only bring back poor Harry
too ! "

^Madelaine stood wiping the tears from her eyes as the
old man luirried off after Leslie, but she wii)ed another
tear away as well, one which rested on her cheek, a big salt
tear that ought almost to have been a fossil globule of
crystallised water and salt. It was the first Uncle Luke
had shed for fifty years.

Did man.

»>

ng?"
e as an

;le Luke
we have
[addy, is
re going
)ok after
im with
tght curb

CHAPTER LVL

K HARD TEST.

" Harry, dear Harry ! " said Louise, as they stood together
in a shabbily furnished room in one of the streets off Tot-
tenham Court Road, '' I feel at times as if i' " ould drive
me mad. Pray, pray let me write ! "

" Not yet, I tell you ; not yet," he said angriiy. " Wait
till we are across the Channel, and then you shall."

"But "

" Louy ! " he half shouted at her, " have some patience."

" Patience, dear.? Think of our father's agony of mi.id.
He loves us."

"Then the joy of findinii; we are ])o:li ali\ ■ and well
must compensate for what he suffers now."

360

THE HAUTE NOP* I. ESSE.

*' But you do not realise \vl\at must be thouphl of me."

"Oh, yes. I do," lie said bitterly; '* but you do not
realise what would be thought of nie, if it were known that
I was alive. I shiver every time 1 meet a policeman.
Can't you see how 1 am placed ? "

" Yes — yes," said Louise wearily ; ** but at times I can
only think of our father — of Madelainc — of Uncle Luke.''

** Hush ! " he cried with an irritable stamp of the fool.
" Have ])aticnce. Once we are on the Continent I shall
feel as if I could breathe ; but this wretched dilatory way
of getting money worries me to death."

"Then why not sell the jewels, and let us go?"

" That's talking like a woman again. It's very easy to
talk about selling the jewels, and it is easy to sell them if
you go to some blackguard who will take advantage of
your needs, and give you next to nothing for them. But,
as Pradelle says "

"Pradelle!" ejaculated Louise, with a look of dislike
crossing her face.

" Yes, Pradelle. That's right, speak ill of the only friend
we have. Why, we owe everything to him. What could
we have done ? Where could we have gone if it had not
been for him, and my fmding out where he was through
asking at the old meeting-place ? "

" I do not like Mr. Pradelle," said Louise firmly.

" Then you ought to," said Harry, as he walked up and
down the room like some caged animal. "As he says, if
you go to sell the things at a respectable place they'll ask
all manner of questions that it is not convenient to answer,
and we must not risk detection by doing that."

" Risk detection ? " said Louise, clasping her hands about
one knee as she gazed straight before her.

" The people here are as suspicious of us as can be, and
the landlady seems ready to ask questions every time we
meet on the stairs."

" Yes," said Louise in a sad, weary way ; " she is always
asking questions."

" But you do not answer them ? "

" I — I hardly know what I have said, Harry. She is so
pertinacious."

" We must leave here," said the young man excitedly.
" Why don't Pradelle come ? "
" Do you expect him to-night ? "

dlM;

^ii ^■

Tirr. i/.M'TK xo/u.i-.ssf':.

3^t

do nut
vn llial
ccnian.

s T can
Luke."

\Q, loot.

, I shall
Dry way

easy to

them if

itage of

1. But,

f dislike

ily friend

lat could

had not

through

up and

says, if

ley'll ask

answer,

Ids about

be, and
time we

is always

IShe is so
jxcitedly.

*< Expect him? Yes. I have only luiH-.i crown left, and
he has your gold chain to pledge. He is to bring tlie
money to-night. 1 expected him before."

** Harry, dear."

" Well ? "

" Do you think Mr. Pradelle is trustworthy ? "

"As trustworthy as most people," said the young man
carelessly. "Yes, of course. He is obliged to be."

" But could you not pledge the things yourself instead of
trusting him?"

" No," he cried, v^'ith an imjjatient stamj). " You know
how I tried, and how the assistant began to question and
s/ire at me, till I snatched the thing out of his hands and
hurried out of the shop. I'd sooner beg than try to do it
again."

Louise was silent for a few moments, and sat gazing
thoughtfully before her.

" Let me write, Harry, telling everything, and asking my
father to send us money."

** Send for the police at once. There, open the windows,
and call the first one up that you see pass. It will be the
shortest way."

" But I am sure, dear "

•"Once more, so am I. At the present moment I am
free. Let me have my liberty to begin life over again
honestly, repentantly, and with the earnest desire to redeem
the past. Will you let me have that ? "

"Ofcourr.e — of coi'-se, dear."

" Then say no laort' to me about communicating with
home."

Louise wai; silent 'gain, beaten once more by her
brother's a.T/ivncnts i i her desire to see him redeem the
past.

" Harry," she said at last, after her brother had been
standing with his cheek pressed against the window pane,
looking down the street in search of the expected visitor.

" Well ? "

" Has it ever occurred to you that Mr. Pradelle is trymg

to keep us here ? "

" Absurd ! "

" No ; I feel sure it is so, and that he does not want us
to go away. Let me take my bracelets and necklet to one
of those places where they buy jewellery or lend money."

362

THE IL4UTE NOBLESSE.

" You ? "

" Yes. Why not ? "

" Are you mad? "

" No. Why sliould I not sell what is my own ? "

" Can you not understand? " cried Harry, whose voice
sounded harsh from the mental irritation which had given
him the look of one in constant dread of arrest.

" No, dear, I cannot. I want to help you. I want to
get away from here — to remove you from tlie influence of
this man, so that we may, if it mus be so, get abroad and
then set them at rest."

'^ Now you are bringing that up again," he cried angrily.

" I must, Harry, I must. I have been too weak as it is ;
but in the excitement of all that trouble I seemed to be
influenced by you in all I did."

" There, there, little sis," he said more gently. '* I
ought not to speak so crossly, but 1 am always on thorns,
held back as I am for want of a few imltry pounds."

" Then let me go and dispose of these things."

" It is impossible."

*' No, dear, you think of the degradation I should rot be
ashamed. We have made a false "^tep, Harry, but if we
must go on, let me do what I can to help you. Let me
go."

"• But the beggarly disgrace. You don't know what you
are going to undertake."

She looked at him with her f';ank, clear eyes.

'' I am going to help you. Tiiere can be no disgrace in
disposing of these trinke!.s for /ou to escape."

" Ah ! at last ! " cried Harry, leaving the window to
hurry to the door, regardless of the look of dislike which
came into his sister's fiice.

" Is that Mr. Pradelle ? " she said shrinkinyly.

^' Yes, at last. No, Louy, I'm bad enoiigli, but I'm not
going to send you to the pawn-broker's while I sloj) hiding
here, and it's all riglit now."

*' Ah, I-l"arry ! Da}', Miss Louy," said Pradelle, entering,
very fashionably dressed, and with a rose in liis buttonhole.
" Nice weather, isn't it ? "

*' T.ook here, Vic," cried Harry, catching him by the
arm. *' How much did you get ? "

"(;et?>"

'* Yes J for the chain ? "

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

363

jxracc in

"Oh, for the chain," said Pradelle, who kept his eyes
fixed on Louise. " Nothing, old fellow."

" Nothing ? "

" Haven't taken it to the right place, yet."

"And you promised to. Look here, what do you
mean ? "

"What do I mean? Well, I like that. Hear him,
Miss Louy ? What a fellow he is ! Here have I got him
into decent apartments, where he is safe as the bank,
when if he had depended iij^on himself he would have
taken you to some slum where you would have been
stopped and the police have found you out."

" You promised to pledge those things for me."

" Of course I did, and so I will. Why, if you had been
left to yourself, vdio would have taken you in without a
reference ? "

" Never mind that," said Harry, so angrily that Louise
rose, went to his side, and laid her hand upon his arm.
" If you don't want to help me, say so."

" If I don't want to help you ! Why, look here, Miss
Louy, I aj^peal to you. Haven't I helped him again and
again? Haven't I lent him money, and acted as a friend
should?"

" Why haven't you pledged that chain ? '' said Harry.

" Because people are so suspicious, and I was afraid.
There you have the truth."

"I don't believe it," cried Harry, excitedly.

"Well then, don't. Your sister will. M you want me
to bring the police on your track, say so."

In a furtive way, he noted Harry's start of dread, and
went on.

" Take the chain or a watch yourself, and if the pawn-
broker is suspicious, he'll eilher detain it till you can give
a good account of how you came by it, or send for a
policeman to follow you to you lodgings."

" 13ut I am quite penniless ! " cried Harry.

" Then why didn't you say so, old fellow ? Long as I've
got a pound you're welcome to it, nnd always were. I'm
not a fine-weather friend, you know that. There you are,
two halves. That'll keep you going for a week."

" But I don't want to keep borrowing of you," said
Harry. " We have enough to do what I want. A sovereign
will do little more than pay for these lodgings."

i '

,. <

364

TI/£ HAUTE NOBLESSE.

'* Enough for a day or two, old fellow, and do, for good-
ness' sake, have a little more faith in a man you have
proved."

" I have faith in you, Vic, and I'm very grateful ; but this
existence maddens me. I want enough to get us across
the Channel. I must and will go."

** Right into the arms of those who are searching for
you. What a baby you are, Harry ! Do you want to be
told again that every boat which starts for the Continent
will be watched ^ "

Harry made n despriring gesture, and his haggard coun-
tenance told plainly of the agony he suffered.

'* My dear Miss Louy," continued Pradelle, " do pray
help me to bring him to reason. You must see that you
are both safe here, and that it is the wisest thing to wait
patiently till the worst of the pursuit is over."

" We do not know that there is any pursuit, Mr. Pra-
delle," said Louise coldly.

" Come, I like that ! " cried Pradelle, in an ill-used tone.
" I thought I told you that they were searching for you
both. If you like to believe that you can leave your home
as you did without your peoi)le making any search, why
you have a right to."

Harry began pacing the room, while Pradelle went on
in a low, pleading way.

" P>er since Harry came to me, 1 thought I had done
all that a friend could, but if I can do more, Miss Louy,
you've only got to tell me what, and it shall be done."

*'^'ou've done your best, Prad," said Harry.

*'Yes, but you don't think it. 1 could go and do all
kinds of rash things ; but I've been working to throw them
off the scent, and I don't think, so far, I've done amiss.
You're not taken yet."

Harry drew a long breath and glanced at door and
window, as if for a way of escape.

" Come, that's better," cried Pradelle. '' Take a more
cheerful view of things. You want change, Harry. You've
been shut up too much. Have a cigar," he continued,
drawing out his case. "No? I beg your pardon, Miss
Louy. Oughtn't to ask him to smoke here."

Hariy shook his head jmpntiently. ■ •

** Yes ; have one, old fellow. They're good. Take two
or three ; and, look here ; go and have a walk up and down
for an hour. It's getting dusk now."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

Louise gave her brother an excited look, which did not
escape Pradelle. " Let's all go," he said. " We might
go along the back streets as far as the park. Do you both
good."

"No, no," said Harry sharply. "I shall not go out."

'' Go together, then," said Pradelle, half mockingly.
" I don't want to intrude ; but for goodness' sake, man, try
and have a little change ; it would make life move different,
and you'd be more ready to take a friend's advice."

"What advice?"

"To settle down here. London's the best place in the
world for hiding yourself"

" Don't talk to me any more, old fellow," said Harry.
" I'm out of temper. I can't help it."

" All right, lad. I'll go now ; and you get him out, Miss
Louy, do. It's the best thing for him."

Harry made an impatient gesture, and threw himself in
a chair.

" You shall do as you like, and I'll raise all the money
for you that I can," said Pradelle, rising lo go; "but take
things more coolly. Good-bye, old bo}'."

" Good-bye," said Harry, shaking hands limply.

" Good-bye," said Pradelle, as Harry turned away to
rest his aching head upon his hand.

" Miss Louy 1 "

He gave his head a jerk towards the door, and Louise
rose and followed him.

" Come outside," lie whispered. " I want to speak to

you.

Mr. Pradelle can say wliat he has to say here."

But it's about him."

Well, Mr. Pradelle?"

Well, Miss Louy, I only wanted to say that some day
you'll find out who is your true friend. I want to help you
both. I do, on my honour."

Your honour ! " thought Louise.

Have a little more confidence in a man if you can. I

((

do want to help you. Good-bye."

He held out his hand, and she felt constrained to give
him hers, which he held, and, after glancing hastily at Harry,
raised to his lips; but the kiss he imprinted was on
the yielding air, for the hand was snatched indignantly
away.

'>z r

V X

i3| ■

366

T//£ IIAVTE XOBLESSE.

" You'll know me better by-and-l)y," said Pradelle ; and
giving her a peculiar look, he left the room,

Louise stood for a few minutes gazing after him, her
brow knit and her eyes thoughtful. Then, going back to
where her brother sat with his head resiting upon his hand,
she laid hers upon his shoulder.

" Harry, dear," she said firmly, " that man is fighting
against us."

" Rubbish," he cried impatiently. " You never liked
Pradelle."

" Better for you if you had hated him. Harry, he is
striving to keep us here."

" Nonsense ! Don't talk to me now."

" I must, Harry. You must act, and decisively."

" What do you mean ? "

" Either you must raise money at once, and go right
away from here "

He looked up sharply.

** No, I do not mean that," she said sadly. " I will not
leave you till you are fit to leave ; but you must either act
as I advise at once, or I shall do what 1 think best."

" What do you mean ? "

** Write to our father to come and help us, for you are
too weak and broken down to protect me."

" Louy ' " he cried excitedly ; " I am not so weak as
you think. I will act ; I will take your advice."

" And get rid of this Mr. Pradelle ? "

** Anything you like, Louy, only don't let them know at
home — yet, and don't leave me. If you did I should break
down at once."

" Then will you be guided by me?"

" Yes."

" And take these jewels yourself and raise money ? "

"Yes; but it is too late now."

Louise glanced at the window, and in her ignorance of
such matters half felt the truth of his words,

" Then to-morrow you will do as I wish ? "

" Yes, to-morrow," he said wearily.

'* Put not off until to-morrow " said Louise softly to

herself; and she stood watching her brother as he sat with
bended head, weak, broken, and despairing, in the gather-
ing gloom.

THE llAl'TF. M)IU.ESS!\

3<>7

CHAPTKR LVII.

AN OLD FRIEXIJ — OR KXE.MY?

"Where shall we stay? I'll show you/' said Uncle Luke,
after giving instructions to the cabman. " My old hotel
in Surrey street. Comfortable, motherly woman. No non-
sense."

" And what do you propose doing? "

" Let's hear first what you propose," shouted the old
man, so as to make hi^ voice heard above the rattle of the
cab windows — four-wheelers Jehu's enemies, which lose him
many a fare.

" I have nothing to propose," said Leslie sadly ; " only
to find her."

" And I've given you twenty-four hours to think it out,
including last night at Plymouth." ,

" My head is in a whirl, sir ; I am in no condition to
think. Pray suggest something."

" Hah ! The old folks are useful, then, after all. Well,
then, you would like to hear my plans ? "

Leslie nodded.

" First, then, there is a good tea, with some meat ;
and while we are having that I shall send off a messenger."

"To find them?"

" No. Wait."

Leslie had found out that the best way to deal with
Uncle Luke was to treat him like a conger-eel, such as
they caught among the rocks about Hakemouth. Once
jiooked, if the fisher dragged at the line, the snaky monster
pulled and fought till the line cut into the holder's hands,
and sometimes was broken or the hook torn out : whereas,
if, instead of pulling, the creature had its head given, it
began to swim up rapidly, and placed itself within reach
of the gaff. So, in spite of his fretful irritation of mind he
allowed the old man to have his own way.

The result was, that before they sat down to their meal
at the quiet hotel, Uncle Luke wrote a letter, which was

368

THE HAUTE iVOBLESSE.

If 5

l-,f;

5j,

I' '

dispatched by special messenger, after which he ate heart-
ily ; while Leslie played with a cup of tea and a piece of
dry toast.

*' Not the way to do work," said 1 ncle Luke grimly.
*' Eat, man ; eat. Coal and coke to aiake the human
engine get up steam."

Leslie made an effort to obey, but everything seemed
distasteful, and he took refuge behind a paper till the waiter
entered with a card.

" Hah ! yes ; show him in," said Uncle Luke. " Here
he is, Leslie," he continued.

" Here who is?"

" Parkins."

" Parkins ? "

" Sergeant Parkins. You remember? "

Leslie had forgotten the name, but directly after the
whole scene of the search for Harry came back as the quiet,
decisive-looking detective officer entered the room, nodded
shortly to both, and after taking the seat indicated, looked
inquiringly at Uncle Luke.

" At your service, sir," he said. " You've brought me
some news about that affair down yonder ? "

" No," said Uncle Luke. " I have come to see if you
can help us in another way;" and he told him the object
of his visit.

" Hah ! " ejaculated their visitor. " Yes, that's different,
sir ; " and taking out a note-book, he began to ask question
after question on points which seemed to him likely to be
useful, till he had gained all the information he thought
necessary, when he closed the book with a snap, and
buttoned it up in his breast.

•' Rather curious fact, sir," he said, looking at both in
turn; "but I've been thinking about Hakemouth a good
deal this last day or two."

''Why?" asked Uncle Luke shortly.

" I've been away all over the Continent for some time —
forgery case, and that Hakemouth business has gone no
farther. As soon as I got back, and was free, 1 wanted
something to do, so I said to myself that I'd take it on
again, and I have."

" Oh, never mind that now," said Leslie angrily. " Can
you help us here? "

" I don't know, sir. I shall try ; but I might mention to

THE HAUTE KOBLESSE.

3«l»

me—
le no
mted
it on

Can

m to

you that wc think we have obtained a clue to the gentle-
man who escaped."

" Yes, yes," said Leslie impatiently ; '' but can you help
us here ? "

"Give me time, sir, and 1 11 do my best," said the ser-
geant. " Not an easy task, sir, you know. A needle is
hard to find in a bundle of hay, and all the clue you give
me is that a lady left your neighbourhood with a French
gentleman. Fortunately I did see the lady, and should
know her again. Good morning."

" But what are we to do? " said Leslie eagerly.

"You, sir?" said the sergeant quietly, and with a sus-
picion of contempt in his tone. " Oh, you'd better wait."

" Wait ! " cried Leslie in a voice full of suppressed rage.

" And practise patience," muttered the man. '' One
moment, sir," he said aloud. " You saw this French gen-
tleman ? "

" I saw him, but not his face. Mr. Viae here told you ;
the light was overturned."

" But you saw his figure, the man's shape ? "

''Yes, of course."

" And you heard his voice ? "

" Yes."

" Broken French ? "

"Yes."

" Now, sir, just think a moment. I have a slight idea.
French name — spoke "

" We mentioned no name."
" One minute, sir. Spoke

French — brother's fellow-
clerk and intimate — gentleman who went off— been staying
at the house — long time in the lady's society. What do
you say now to its being this Mr. PradeUc ? "

Uncle Luke gave the table a thump n'hich made the tea-
things rattle, and Leslie started from hi;s seat, gazing wildly
at the officer, who smiled rather triumphantly.

" Great Heavens 1 " faltered Leslie, as if a new light had
flashed into his darkened mind.

" Of course, sir, this is only a suggestion," said the ser-
geant. " It is all new to me ; but seems likely."

'• No," said Uncle Luke emphatically, '■ no. She would
never have gone off with him."

" Very good, gentlemen. I'll see what I can do at
once."

370

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

" One moment," said Ta'sHc as he slii-pcd some notes
into the man's hand. " ^'oii will s|)are neither time nor
money."

'• I will not, sir."

" Tell me one thing. What shall you do first ? "

"Just the opposite to what you've done, gentlemen,"
said the officer.

" What do you mean ? "

" Go down to Hakemouth by to-night's mail, and work
back to town."

" I feel certain," said Leslie, " that he brought her to
London to take tickets for France."

" I don't, sir, yet. Rut even if I did, it's a long bridge
from here to Cornwall, and I might find them resting in
one of the recesses. You leave it to me, sir. Good day.
** Humph ! " he added as he went out ; " plain as a pike-
staff. Women are womanly, and I have known msl inces
of a woman sticking to a man for no reason whatever,
except that he was a scamp, and sometimes the greater the
scamp the tighter the tie. Pradelle's my man, and I think
I can put my thumb upon him before long."

"No, Leslie, no. Louy wouldn't look at him. That's
not the clue," said Uncle Luke.

CHAPTER LVHL

THE NEEDLE IN A BUNDLE OF HAY.

'•'"^lUii:

A WEEK of anxiety, with the breaks in it of interviews with
Sergeant Parkins, who had very little to communicate ;
but still that little was cogent.

He had been down to Hakemouth, and by careful inquiry
had tracked the missing i)air to Plymouth, where he had
missed them. But, after the fashion of a huntsman, he
made long casts round and i)ickcd u\) the clue at P^xeter,
where a porter remembered them from wb.at sounded like
an altercation in a second-class compartment, where a dark
young lady was in tears, and the " gent " who was with her
said something to her sharply in a foreign tongue. Pressed
as to what it was like, he said it sounded as if the gent said
" Taisev."

THE II Am-: xobiesse.

yi^

There the sergeant had lost the clue ; but he had
learned enough to satisfy himself that the fugitives had
been making for London, unless tiiey had branched off at
Bristol, which was hardly likely.

•'Come up to London," said Leslie. "Well, that is
wh:?i: we surmised before we a})|)lied to you.

* Exactly, sir ; but 1 have nearly made your surmise a
certainty."

•' Yes, nearly," said Leslie bitterly.

" \\'e must have time, sir. A hunter does not secure
his game by rushing at it. He stalks it."

'* Yes," said Uncle Luke in assent, " and of course you
must be certain, 'i'his is not a criminal matter."

" No, sir, of course not," said the sergeant drily, and
with a meaning in his tone which the others did not
detect.

" If you are successful in finding their whereabouts,
mind that your task ends there. You will give us due
notice, and we will see to the rest."

"Certainly, sir ; and I have men on the look-out. 7'he
bundle of hay is being j)relly well tossed over, anil some
day I hope to see the shine of the needle among the
puzzling dry strands, (iood morning."

" Is that man a humbug, sir, or in earnest? "

"Earnest," replied Uncle Luke. "He proved tliat
before."

If the occupants of the hotel room, wliieh seemed to
Leslie like a prison, could have read Sergeant Parkins'
mind as he went away, they would have thought hiin in
deadly earnest.

" Not a criminal case, gentlemen, eh } '' he said to him-
self. " If it is as I think, it is very criminal indeed, and
Mr. Pradelle will find it so before he is much older. I
haven't forgotten the night on Hakeinouth Tier, and that
poor boy's death, and I shan't feel very hapi)y till I've
squared accounts with him, for if he was not the starter of
all that trouble I am no judge of men.''

37*

THE IIACTE AOBLESSE,

IMS,

f^H

^|il'

fe:.

CHAPTER LTX.

PRADELLE IS PRICKED.

Seeing more and more that if an alteration was to be
made in their present position, the change must come from
her urging, Louise attacked her brother soon i./ter break-
fast the next morning. She was fully convinced that Pra-
delle was determined to keep them in London for reasons of
his own — reasons the bare thought of which brought an in-
dignant flush into her cheek ; and it was evident that he was
gaining greater influence over his old companion, who was
just now in the stage when it would be easy for one of
strong mind to gain the mastery. This being so, Louise
determined that hers should be the strong will, not Pra-
delle's. To this end she took three or four of the most
likely of her jewels, making a point of carefully wrapping
them u]), and dwelling upon the task till she caught her
brother's attention.

" What are you doing there ? " he said.

" Getting ready some things upon which to raise
money."

He uttered an impatient ejaculation.

"Leave them till Pradelle comes."

" No, Harry ; either you or I must part with these.
Who is it to be ? "

" Let Pradelle take them."

" No," she said firmly. " It is time that we acted for
ourselves. Will you go, or shall I ? "

" But you heard what he said yesterday ? "

'* Yes, and I do not believe it. Come, Harry, for your
own sake, for mine."

'* Yes, yes ; but wait."

" You forced me into this compromising position to help
you escape from England."

" I could not help it."

" I am not blaming you ; I only say act, or let me."

He started from his chair, and stood there swayed by
the various passions which pervaded his spirit.

THE HAUTE iXOBLEH^SE,

373

" Harry."

" I cannot do it."

"Then let mc go."

"No, no, no ! " he cried. ** f :im not so lost to all manly
feeling as that. Here, give ihcni to me, and let us get
away."

" Yes," she said eagerlv, " at once. You will go, Harry,
and let us cross to-ni^ht."

He nodded his heatl, antl without another word swei)t
the jewels into hi^. pocket, and made towards the door.
As he laid his hand upon the lock he turned sharply and
came back.

** I'm like a curse to you. Louy," he said kissing her ;
"but I'm going to try, and you shall guide me now."

She clung to him for a few moments, and then loosened
her grasp.

" I shall be ready when you come back," she said.
" We can pay these people, and it will be like breathing
afresh to get away."

" Yes," he said. " But Tradelle ? "

" Is our enemv

larry. Your cv
No, no ; he has been very kind.
For his own ends. There, go.

He went off without a wcjrd ; and after making the few
trifling prejjarations necessary, Louise i)Ut on her hat and
cloak, and waited imi)atiently for her brotiier's return.
An hour passed, which seemed like two, and then the
blood mounted to her ])ale cheek, and she crossed towards
the door ready to admit her brother, for there was a step
upon the stair. She glanced round to see if she had for-
gotten anything, but there was nothinj,' to do, save to pay
the landlady, and then they would be free. She threw
open the door as the step paused on the landing, and then
she ran back with her lips apart, and a hjok of repugnance
and dread in her eves.

((

t »'

Mr. Pradelle

Yes, Miss Louy, me it is, aid you don't look best

pleased to see me.

As she fell back he entered and closed the door.

My brother is out, Mr. Pradelle.

He nodded, and stood smiling at her.

"You can leave any message you wish for him."

" And go ? Exactly. Haii : "l should like to make you

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374

rrTE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

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think differently of me, Miss Louy. You know I always
loved "

'* Mr. Pradelle, I am alone here, and this visit is an
intrusion."

"• Intrusion ? Ah, how hard you do keep on me ; but
I'm patient as a man can be. \Vhat a welcome to one who
has come to serve you ! I am only your brother's mes-
senger, Miss Louy. He has been and done that business."
■ '' You know? "

" Of cour<5e I know. Harry is not so hard upon me as
you are. I have seen him, and he sent me on here with a
cab. He wants you to join hiiu."

" To join him ? "

" Yes, at the station. He says it is not safe to come
back here, and you are to join him at the waiting-room."

" He sent that message by you? "

'' Yes. It's all nonsense, of course, for I think he has
not so much cause to be alarmed. There is a risk, but he
magnifies it. You are ready, so let's go on at once."

" Why did not my brother return ? There is the land-
lady to pay."

" He has commissioned me to do that. I am going to
see you both off, and if you'll only say a kind word to me,
Miss Louy, I don't know but what I'll come with you."

'' Did my brother send that message to me, Mr, Pra-
delle ? " said Louise, looking at him fixedly.

"Yes, and the cab's waiting at the door."

'* It is not true," said Louise firmly.
. ''What?"

" I say, sir, it is not true. After what has passed
between us this morning, my brother would not send such
a message by you."

'' Well, if ever man had cause to be hurt I have," cried
Pradelle. " Why, you'll tell me next that he didn't go out
to pawn some of your jewels."

Louise hesitated.

" There, you see, I am right. He has taken quite a
scare, and daren't come back. Perhaps you won't believe
that. There, come along ; we're wasting time."

'' It is not true."

'' How can you be so foolish ! I tell you I was to brmg
you along, and you must come now. Hush i don't talk,
but come."

fi. , .

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

375

He caught her hand and drew it through his arm so
suddenly that, hesitating between faith and doubt, she made
no resistance ; and, ready to blame herself now for her
want of trust, she was accompanying him towards the door
when it was opened quickly, and their way was blocked
by Leslie and Uncle Luke.

Pradelle uttered an angry ejaculation, and Louise shrank
back speechless, her eyes dilated, her lips apart, and a
bewildering sense of confusion robbing her of the power of
speech, as she realised to the full her position in the sight
of those who had sought her out.

" Then he was right, Leslie," said Uncle Luke slowly,
as he looked from his niece to Pradelle, and back.

" Uncle ! " she cried m agony, '^ whnt are you thinking ?"

"That you are my niece — a woman," said the old man
coldly; ''and that this is Mr. Pradelle."

" Uncle, dear uncle, let me explain," cried Louise wildly,
as she shivered at the look of contempt cast upon her by
Leslie.

"The situation needs no explanation," said Uncle Luke
coldly.

" Not a bit," said Pradelle with a half lough. '' Well,
gentlemen, what do you want ? This lady is under my
protection. Please to let us pass."

" Yes," said Uncle Luke in the same coldly sarcastic
tone of voice, *'you can pass, but, in spite of everything,
the lady stays with me."

" No, sir, she goes with me," said Pradelle in a bluster-
ing tone. " Come on," he whispered, " for Harry's sake."

" No," said Uncle Luke. " I think we will spare her
the pain of seeing you arrested. Mr. Pradelle, the police
are on the stairs."

CHAPTER LX.

THE DGG BITES.

Pradelle started back as if he had been stung.
" Police ? " he said. *' What do you mean ? "
" What a man does mean, you scoundrel, when he talks

about them — to give you into custody."

376

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

.\m

'* It is not a criminal cffcnce to elope with a lady," said
Pradelle with a malicious look at Leslie, who stood before
the door with his hands clenched.

*' Uncle ! " cried Louise, whose pale face now flamed
up as she glanced at Leslie, and saw that he avoided her
eyes.

" You wait," he said. " I'll finish with this fellow first,
and end by taking you home."
But, uncle, let me explain.''

You'll hold your tongue ! " cried Pradelle sharply.
" Think what you are going to do."

"Yes, she can hold her tongue," cried Uncle Luke,
" while I settle our little business, sir. Let me see. Ah !
I was always sure of that."

Pradelle had thrust himself forward offensively, and in
a threatening manner so near that the old man had only
to dart out one hand to seize him by the throat ; and quick
as lightning had drawn an old gold ring from the scarf the
young man wore.

''What are you doing? " roared Pradelle, clenching his
fist.

" Taking possession of my own. Look here, Leslie, my
old signet ring that scoundrel took from a nail over my
chimney-piece."

" It's a lie; it's "

*' My crest, and enough by itseif to justify the police
being called up."

" A trick, a trumped-up charge," cried Pradelle.

"You must prove that at the same time you clear
yourself of robbing Van Heldre."

" I — I rob Van Heldre ! I swear I never had a shilling
of his money."

" You were not coming away when I knocked you down
with old Crampton's ruler, eh?"

Pradelle shank from the upraised stick, and with an in-
voluntary movement clapped his hand to his head.

" See that, Leslie ! " cried the old man with a sneering
hugh. "Yes, that was the place. I hit as hard as I
could."

" A trick, a trap ! Bah ! I'm not scared by your threats.
You stand aside, and let us pass ! " cried Pradelle in a
loud, bullying way, as he tried to draw Louise toward the
door ; but she freed herself from his grasp.

I I

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

377

" No, no ! " she cried widely, as with her ears and eyes
on the strain she glanced at window and door, and caught
her uncle's arm.

" Hah ! glad you have so much good sense left. Nice
scoundrel this to choose, my girl ! "

" Uncle ! " she whispered, " you shall let mc -explain."

" I don't want to hear any explanation," cried the old
man angrily. ''I know quite enough. Will you come
home with me ? "

*' Yes ! " she cried eagerly, and Leslie drew a breath
full of relief. " No i "

The negative came like a cry of agony.

"I cannot, uncle, I cannot."

" I'll see about that," cried the old man. " Now, Les-
lie, ask Sergeant Parkins to step up here."

" Let him if he dares 1 " cried Pradelle fiercely.

" Oh, he dares," said Uncle Luke, smiling. '' Call him
up, for it is a criminal case, after all."

" Stop ! " cried Pradelle, as Leslie laid his hand upon
the door.

" Yes, stop^ — pray, pray stop ! " cried Louise in agony;
and with a wild look of horror, which stung Leslie with
jealous rage. " Uncle, you must not do this."

" I'd do it if it was ten times as hard 1 " cried the old
man.

"■ What shall I say — what shall I do? " moaned Louise.

" Uncle, uncle, pray don't do this. You must not send
for the police. Give me time to explain — to set you right."

*' Shame upon you ! " cried the old man fiercely. De-
fending such a scoundrel as that ! "

" No, no, uncle, I do not defend this man. Listen to
me ; you do not know what you are doing."

" Not know what I am doing ? Ah ! "

He turned from her in disgust, and with a look of agony
that thrilled him, she caught Leslie's arm.

" You will listen to me, Mr. Leslie. You must not, you
j'hall not, call in the police."

He did not speak for the moment, but stood hesitating
as if yielding to her prayer ; but the frown deepened upon
his brow as he loosened her grasp upon his arm.

" It is for your good," he said coldly, " to save you
from a man like t^hat."

" I must speak, I must speak ! " cried' Louise, and then

378

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

t/i t*.

she uttered a wail of horror, and shrank to her uncle's
side.

For as she clung to Leslie, Pradelle, with a bullying look,
planted himself before the door to arrest Leslie's progress,
and then shrank back as he saw the grim smile of satis-
faction upon the young Scot's face.

It was the v\'ork of moments, and the action seemed like
to that of one of his own country deer hounds, as Leslie
dashed at him ; there was the dull sound of a heavy blow,
and Pradelle went down with a crash in one corner of the
room.

*' Mr. Leslie ! Mr. Leslie ! for pity's sake stay ! " cried
Louise as she made for the door ; but Uncle Luke caught
her hand, and retained it as the door swung to.

" Uncle, uncle ! " she moaned, " what have you done? "

" Done ! " he cried. *' You mad, infatuated girl ! My
duty to my brother and to you."

" All right," said Pradelle, rising slowly, *' Let's have in
the police then. I can clear myself, I daresay."

" Mr. Pradelle, if you have a spark of manliness in you,
pray say no more," cried Louise, as, snatching herself free,
she ran to him now.

" Oh, I'm not going to be made a scapegoat ! " he cried
savagely ; but as his eyes met hers full of piteous appeal,
his whole manner changed, and he caught her hands in
his.

" Yes, I will," he whispered. " I'll bear it all. It can't
be for long, and I may get off. Promise me "

He said the rest of the words with his lips close to her
ear.

" Your wife ? " she faltered as she shrank away and
crossed to her uncle. " No, no, no ! "

There was a sharp rap on the panel, the door yielded,
and Sergeant Parkins stepped in.

" Mr. Pradelle, eh ? " he said with a grim smile. **Glad
to make your acquaintance, sir, at last. You'll come
quietly? "

'' Oh, yes, I'll come," said Pradelle. " I've got an
answer to the charge."

" Of course you have, sir. Glad to hear it. Sorry to
put a stop to your pleasant little game. Shall I ? "

" There's no need, " said Pradel^s in answer to a
meaning gesticulation toward his wrists. " I know how
to behave like a gentleman."

r '

""^

THE HAUTE XOBLESSE.

379

"That's right," said the sergeant, who with a display
of dehcacy hardly to have been expected in his triumph
at having, as he felt, had his prognostication fulfilled,
carefully abstained from even glancing at the trembling
girl, who stood there with agony and despair painted
on her face.

"It ain't too late yet. Miss Louy," said Pradelle
crossing toward her.

" Keep that scoundrel back, Parkins," cried Uncle
Luke.

" Right sir. Now, Mr. Pradelle."

" Stop a moment, can't you ? " shouted the prisoner.
" Miss Louy — to save him you'll promise, and I'll be
dumb. I swear I will."

Louise drew herself up as a piteous sigh escaped her
breast.

" No," she said firmly. " I cannot promise that.
Uncle dear, I have tried to save him to the last. I
can do no more."

" No," said the old man. " ^'ou cm do no more."

" Mr. Pradelle," she cried, "you will not be so base?"

" Will you promise ? " he cried.

"No."

" Then — here, just a minute, You, Mr Luke Vine,
will you give me a word ? "

" No," roared Uncle Luke. " Take him away."

"Then the sergeant here will," cried Pradelle savagely.
" Look here, sit down and wait for a few minutes, and you
can take Harry Vine as well."

" What do you mean ? " cried the sergeant roughly.

" Only that he has gone out to raise the money for a
bolt to' France, and he'll be back directly. Two birds
with one stone."

" Only a trick, sir," said the sergeant grimly. " Now,
Mr. Pradelle, hansom or four-wheeler? I give you your
choice."

" Four-wheeler," said Pradelle, with a sneering laugh.

" My poor brother ! " moaned Louise, as she made a
clutch at the air, and then sank fainting in her uncle's
arms.

"You scoundrel ! to speak like that," cried Uncle Luke
fiercely.

" Here, what do you mean ? " said the sergeant.

380

T///^ HAUTE NOBLESSE,

" What I said. He wasn't drowned. Harry was too
clever for that."

Click— Click!

A pair of handcuffs were fastened to his wrists with
marvellous celerity, and he was swung into a chair.

"I don't know whether this is a bit of gainmon, Mr,
Pradelle," said the sergeant sharply, '' but I never lose a
chance."

He paid not the slightest heed to the other occupants of
the room, but ran to the window, threw it open, and called
to some one below but only his last words were heard by
those inside.

" Quick ! lirst one you see, and I'll give you a shilling."

The sergeant closed the window and crossed to Pradelle.

*' irit's a trick it will do you no good. You see, to begin
with, it has brought you those."

" I don't care," said Pradelle, glowering at Uncle Luke.
" It will take some of the pride out of him, and I shan't
go alone."

'* It is a trick, sergeant. Take the scoundrel away."

" Must make sure, sir. Sorry for the lady, but she may
have been deceived that horrible night, and there's more
in this than I can understand. Your friend be long, sir ? "

"Mr. Leslie? I expected him back with you."

" Mr. Leslie went on out into the street, sir. Here, I
have it. He has been in hiding down your way, and
came up with the lady there."

" That's it, sergeant, you're a 'cute one/' said Pnidelle
with a laugh.

" Who has been in hiding ? "

" Your nephew, sir. I see it all now. What a fool I've
been."

" My nephew ! — Not dead ? "

" Harry — brother ! " moaned Louise. " I could do no
more. Ah ! "

Uncle Luke fell a-trembling as he caught the half-
insensiole girl's nand, gazing wildly at the sergeant the
while.

" Look here, Pradelle, no more nonsense. Will he come
back?"

" If you keep q jiet of course. Not if he sees you."

" Ah ! " ejaculated the sertjeant, crossing to the door as
he heard a step ; and hurrying out he returned directly
with a constable in uniform.

THE n.WTF. iXOBl.ESSE.

381

"Stop ! " he said shorlly, and lie nodded to ihc prisoner
Very sorry, Mr. Vine, sir," he then said ; " but you must

Stay here tor a bit. I am goim; down to wait outside '

•'But Parkins ! " cried LTncle J Aike, agitatedly." I cannot.
If this IS true— that poor boy— no, wo, he must not be
taken now."

" Too late, sir, to talk like that," cried the sergeant
" You stop there."

'[ Yes," said Pradelle, as the door closed on the sergeant's
retiring figure; ''pleasant for you. I always hated you
for a sneering old crab. It's your time to feel now."

*' Silence, you scoundrel ! " cried Uncle Luke, fiercely.
*' She's coming to."

Uncle Luke was wrong, for Louise only moaned slightly,
and then relapsed into insensibility, from which a doctor
who was fetched did not seem to recall her, and hour after
hour of patient watching followed, but Harry did not
return.

" The bird has been scared, sir," said Parkins, entering
the room at last. " I can't ask you to stay longer. There's
a cab at the door to take the lady to your hotel."

" But are you sure — that — my poor boy lives? "

" Certain, sir, now. I've had his description from the
people down below. I shall have him before to-night."

" L'homme propose, mais — "

Five minutes later Louise, quite insensible, was being
borne to the hotel; Mr. Pradelle, to an establishment
offering similar advantages as to bed and board, but with
the freedom of ingress and egress left out.

CHAPTER LXL

DIOGENES DISCOVERS.

" Blame you, my dear ? No, no, of course not. Then you
knew nothing about it till that night when he came to the
window ? "

"Oh, no, uncle, dear."

Louise started up excitedly from the couch at the hotel
upon which she was lying, while the old man trotted up
and down the room.

If "

382

r/IE HAUTE NO HI. ESSE.

" Now, now, now," he cried pitcously, l)iit with exceed-
ing tenderness as lie laid iiis hand upon her brow, and
pressed her back till her head rested on the pillow.
" Your head's getting hot again, and the doctor said you
were not to be excited in any way. There, let's talk about
fishing, or sea anemones, or something else."

'' No, no, uncle dear, I must talk about this, or I shall
be worse."

" Then for goodness' sake let's talk about it," he said
eagerly, as he took a chair by her side and held her hand.

" You don't blame me then — very much."

** Well, say not very much ; l)ut it's not very pleasant to
have a nephew who makes one believe he's dead, and a
niece who pretends that she has bolted with a scampish
Frenchman."

" Uncle, uncle," she cried piteously,

'* You see it has been a terrible upset for me, while as to
your poor father ■-"

" But, uncle, dear, what could I do ? "

" Well, when you were writing, you might have said a
little more."

" I wrote what poor Harry forced me to write. What
else could I say ? "

" You see, it has upset us all so terribly. George — I
mean your fnther — will never forgive you."

" But you do not put yourself in my place, uncle. Think
of how Harry was situated ; think of his horror of being
taken. Indeed, he was half mad."

" No ; quite, Louy ; and you seem to have caught the
complr'nt."

'' I hardly knew what I did. It was like some terrible
dream. Harry frightened me then."

" Enough to frighten any one, appearing like a ghost at
the window when we believed he was dead."

" I did not mean that, uncle. I mean that he was in a
terrible state of fever, and hardly seemed accountable for
his actions. I think I should have felt obliged to go with
him, even if he had not been so determined."

*' Ah ! well, you've talked about it quite enough."

" No, no ; I must talk about it — about Harry. Oh !
uncle ! uncle ! after all this suffering for him to be taken
after all ! The horror ! the shame ! the disgrace ! You
must — you shall save him ! "

THE iiArTE xoiur.ssr..

383

'' I'm going to try all I know, my darling ; but when
c ice you have started the police it's hard work to keep
them back."

"How could yo'i do it?"

"Mow could I do it? " cried the old man testily. " I
didn't do it to find him, of course ; but to try and run you
to earth. How could I know that Harry was alive ? "

" l^ut you will not let him be imprisoned. Has he not
suffered enough ? "

' Not more than he deserves to suffer, my child ; but we
must stop all that judge and jury business somehow. Get
Van Heldre not to prosecute."

" I will go down on my knees to him, and stay at his
feet till he promises to spare him — poor foolish boy ! But,
uncle, what are you going to do ? You will not send
word down ? "

" Not send word? Why, I sent to Madelaine a couple
of hours ago, while you lay there insensible."

" You sent ? "

"Yes, a long tdegram."

" Uncle, what have you done ? "

" What I ought to do, my child, and bade her tell her
father and mother, and then go and break it gently to my
brother."

" Uncle ! "

" There, there, my dear, you said I ought to put myself
in your place ; suppose you put yourself in mine."

" Yes, yes, uncle, dear; I see now ; I see."'

" Then try and be calm. You know how these difficulties
sometimes settle themselves."

" Not such difficulties as these, uncle. Harry ! my
brother ! my poor brother ! "

" Louy, my dear child ! " said the old man, with a
comical look of perplexity in his face, " have some pity on
me."

" ]\ty dearest uncle," she sobbed, as she drew his face
down to hers.

" Yes," he said, kissing her ; " that's all very well, and
affectionate, and nice ; but do look here. You know how
1 live, and why I live as I do."

" Yes, uncle."

" To save mvsclf from worry and anxiety. I am saving
myself from trouble, am I not ? Here, let go of my hand,

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384

T//E HAUTE NOBLESSE.

and I'll send off another message to hasten your father up,
so as to set me free."

" No, uncle, dear, you will not leave me," she said, with
a pleading look in his eyes.

*' There you go ! " he cried. " I wish you wouldn't have
so much faith in me, Louy. You ought to know better ;
but you always would believe in me."

'' Yes, uncle, always," said Louise, as she placed his
hand upon her pillow, and her cheek in his palm.

" Well, all I can say is that it's a great nuisance for me.
But I'm glad I've found you, my dear, all the same."

" After believing all manner of evil of me, uncle."

" No, no, not quite so bad as that. There ; never mind
what I thought. I found you out, and just in the nick of
time. I say, where the dickens can Leslie be ? "

" Mr. Leslie ! "

Louise raised her face, with an excited look in her eyes.

" Well, why are you looking like that ? "

" Tell me, uncle — was he very much hurt, that night ? "

'* Nearly killed," said the old man grimly, and with a
furtive look at his niece.

"Uncle!"

" Well, what of it ? He's nothing to you. Good enough
sort of fellow, but there are thousands of better men in the
world."

Louise's brow grew puckered, and a red spot burned in
each of her cheeks.

" Been very good and helped me to find you ; paid the
detective to hunt you out."

" Uncle ! surely you will not let Mr. Leslie pay."

" Not let him ? I did let him. He has plenty of money,
and I have none — handy."

'' But, uncle ! "

" Oh ! it pleased him to pay. I don't know why,
though, unless, like all young men, he wanted to make
ducks and drakes of his cash."

Louise's brow seemed to grow more contracted.

" Bit of a change for him to run up to town. I suppose
that's what made him come," continued the old man \
" and now I've found you, I suppose he feels free to go
about where he likes. I never liked him."

If Uncle Luke expected his niece to make some reply
he was mistaken, for Louise lay back with her eyes half

m.:-

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

38s

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closed, apparently thinking deeply, till there was a tap at
the door.

" Hah ! that's Leslie," cried the old man, rising.

" You will come back and tell me if there is any news of
Harry, uncle," whispered Louise. Then, with an agonised
look up at him as she clung to liis hands, " He will not
help them ? "

"What, to capture that poor boy? No, no. Leslie
must feel bitter against the man who struck him down, but
not so bad as that."

The knock was repeated before he could free his hands
and cross the room.

"Yes, what is it?"

** That gentleman who has been to see you before, sir,"
said the waiter, in a low voice.

" Not Mr. Leslie ? He has not returned? "

'' No, sir."

** I'll come directly. Where is he ? "

" In the coffee-room, sir."

Uncle Luke closed the door and recrossed the room, to
where Louise had half risen and was gazing at him wildly.

** News of Harry, uncle ? "

" Don't know, my dear."

" You are keeping it from me. That man has taken him,
and all this agony of suffering has been in vain."

" I'd give something if Madelaine were here," said
Uncle Luke. " No, no ; I am not keeping back anything.
I don't know anything ; I only came back to beg of you
to be calm. The e, I promise you that you shall know all."

" Even the worst ? "

" Even the worst."

Louise sank back, and the old man descended to the
coffee-room, to find Parkins impatiently walking up and
down.

" Well ? "

" No, sir ; no luck yet," said that officer.

" What do you mean with your no luck ? " cried Uncle
Luke angrily. " You don't suppose 1 want him found ? "

" Perhaps not, sir, but I do. I never like to undertake
a job without carrying it through, and I feel over this that
I have been regularly tricked."

" What's that to me, sir? "

'* Nothing, sir ; but to a man in my position, with his

1 1'

^1 %.

386

Tff£ HAUTE NOBLESSE,

character as a keen officer at stake ; a great deal. Mr.
Leslie, sir. Has he been back ? "

" There, once for all, it's of no uso for you to come and
question me, Parkins. I engaged you to track out my
niece ; you have succeeded, and you may draw what I pro-
mised you, and five-and-twenty guineas besides for the
sharp way in which you carried it out. You have done
your task, and I discharge you. I belong to the enemy
now."

" Yes, sir ; but I have the other job to finish, in which
you did not instruct me."

" Look here. Parkins,'* said Uncle Luke, taking him by
the lappel of his coat, "never mind about the other busi-
ness."

" But I do, sir. Every man has some pride, and mine
is to succeed in every job I take in hand."

" Ah ! well, look here ; you shall succeed. You did
your best over it, and we'll consider it was the last act of
the drama when my foolish nephew jumped into the sea."

'' Oh, no, sir. I "

*' Wait a minute. What a hurry you men are in. Now
look here. Parkins. I'm only a poor quiet country person,
and I should be sorry for you to think I tried to bribe
you'; but you've done your duty. Now go no farther in
this matter, and I'll sell out stock to a hundred pounds,
and you shall transfer ii to your name in the bank."

Parkins shook his head and frowned.

** For a nest egg, man."
; " No, sir."

" Then look here, my man ; this is a painful family scan-
dal, and I don't want it to go any farther, for the sake of
those who are suffering. I'll make it two hundred."

" No, sir ; no."

" Then two hundred and fifty; all clean money, Par-
kins."

** Dirty money, sir, you mean," said the sergeant quietly.
" Look here, Mr. Luke Vine, you are, as you say, a quiet
country gentleman, so I won't be angry with you. You'll
give me five hundred pounds to stop this business and let
your nephew get right away ? "

Uncle Luke drew a long breath.

*' Five hundred ! " he muttered. " Well, it will come
out of what I meant to leave him, and I suppose he'll be
very glad to give it to escape."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

387

quietly.

a quiet

You'll

and let

** Do you understand me, sir? You'll give me five hun-
dred pounds to stop diis search ? "

Uncle Luke drew another long breath.

" You're a dreadful scoundrel, Parkins, and too much
for me ; but yes, you shall have the money."

** No, sir, I'm not a dreadful scoundrel, or I should
make you pay me a thousand pounds."

" I wouldn't pay it— not a penny r^ore than five hun-
dred."

" Yes, you would, sir ; you'd pay me a thousand for the
sake of that sweet young lady upstairs. You'd pay me
every shilling you've got if I worked you, and in spite of
your shabby looks I believe you're pretty warm."

*' Never you mind my looks, sir, or my warmth," cried
Uncle Luke indignantly. " That matter is settled, then ?
Five hundred pounds ? "

" Thousand would be a nice bit of money for a man like
me to have put away against the day I get a crack on the
head or am shot by some scoundrel. Nice thing for the
wife and my girl. Just about the same age as your niece,
sir."

'' That will do ; that will do," said Uncle Luke stiffly.
" The business is settled, then."

" No, sir ; not yet. I won't be gruff with you, sir,
because your motive's honest, and I'm sorry to have to be
hard at a time like this."

" You dog ! " snarled Uncle Luke ; " you have me down.
Go on, worry me. There, out with it. I haven't long to
live. Tell me what I am to give you, and you shall
have it."

" Your — hand, sir," cried the sergeant ; and as it was
unwillingly extended he gripped it with tremendous force.
" Your hand, sir, for that of a fine, true-hearted English
gentleman. No, sir ; I'm not to be bought at any price.
If I could do it I would, for the sake of that poor broken-
hearted girl ; but it isn't to be done. I will not insult you,
though, by coming here to get information. Good-day,
sir ; and you can write to me. Good-bye."

He gave Uncle Luke's hand a final wring, and then,
with a short nod, left the room.

** Diogenes the second," said Uncle Luke, with a dry,
harsh laugh ; "and I've beaten Diogenes the first, for he
took a lantern to find his honest man, and didn't find him.
I have found one without a light."

388

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

CHAPTER LXII.

UNCLL LUKE TURNS PROPHET.

n\ , ,< ill

* m

" Why doesn't Leslie come ? " said Uncle Luke impatiently,
as he rose from a nearly untasted breakfast the next morn-
ing to go to the window of his private room in the hotel,
and try to look up and down the street. ** It's too bad of
him. Here, what in the world have I done to be con-
demned to such a life as this ? "

" Life ? " he exclaimed after a contemptuous stare at the
grimy houses across the street. " Life ? I don't call this
life i What un existence ! Prison would be preferable."

He winced as the word prison occurred to him, and
began to think of Harry.

*^ I can't understand it. Well, he's clever enough at
hiding, but it seems very cowardly to leave his sister in
the lurch. Thought she was with me, I hope. Confound
it, why don't Leslie come ? "

" Bah ! want of pluck ! " he cried, after another glance
from the whidow. " Tide must be about right this week,
and the bass playing in that eddy off the point. Could
have fished there again now. Never seemed to fancy it
when I thought poor Harry was drowned off it. Confound
poor Harry ! He has always been a nuisance. Now, I
wonder whether it would be possible to get communication
with him unknown to these police ? "

He took a walk up and down the room for a few
minutes.

' Now that's where Leslie would be so useful ; and he
keeps away. Because of Louy, I suppose. Well, what is
it ? Why have you brought the breakfast back ? "

" The young lady said she was coming down, sir," said
the chambermaid, who had entered with a tray.

" Stuff and nonsense ! " cried the old man angrily. " Go
up and tell her she is not to get up till the doctor has seen
her, and not then unless he gives her leave."

Bl^

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

389

norii-
hotel,
)ad of
: con-

at the
.11 this
■able."
n, and

Ligh at
ster in
nfoiind

glance
s week,

Could

fancy it

mfoimd

Now, I

nication

>r a few

and he
, what is

sir," said

ly. "Go
has seen

The maid gave her shoulders a slight shnm, and turned
to go, when the door opened, and, looking very pale and
hollow-eyed, Louise entered.

Uncle Luke gave his foot an impatient stamp,
ir '^liat's right," he cried ; " do all you can to make your-
self ill, and keep me a prisoner in this black hole No
no, my darling, I didn't mean that. So you didn't like
haying your breakfast alone } That'll do ; set it down."

The maid left the room, and Louise stood, with her
head resting on the old man's breast.

'' Now, tell me, uncle, dear," she said in a low voice,
and without looking up. " has poor Harry been taken ? "
" No."
" Hah ! "

A long sigh of relief.

" And Mr. Leslie ? What does he say ? "
" I don't know. Lie has not been here since he left with
me yesterday."

''And he calls himself our friend ! " cried Louise, look-
ing up with flushing face. " Uncle, why docs he not try
to save Harry instead of joining the cowardly pack who
are hunting him down ? "

"Come, I like that !" cried Uncle Luke. '' I'd rather
see you in a passion than down as you were last night."

" I— I cannot help it, uncle ; I can think of only one
thing — Harry."

" And Mr. Leslie, and accuse him of hunting Harry
down."

" Well, did he not do so .? Did he not come with that
dreadful man ? "

" To try and save you from the French scoundrel with
whom he thought you had eloped."

"Oh, hush, uncle, dear. Now tell mc, what do you
propose doing ? "

" Nothing."

"Uncle!"

" That's the best policy. There, my darling, I have done
all I could this morning to help the poor boy, but — I must
be plain — the police are in hot pursuit, and if I move a
step I am certain to be watched. Look there ! "

He pointed down into the street.

" That man on the other side is watching this house,
I'm sure and if I go away I shall be followed."

390

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

If' '•

111

,il k

" But while we are doing nothing, who knows what may
happen, dear ? "

" Don't let's imagine things. Harry is clever enough
perhaps to get away, and now he knows that we have found
out the truth, you will see that he is not long before he
writes. I want Leslie now. Depend upon it the poor
fellow felt that he would be £le trop^ and has gone straight
back home."

Louise uttered a sigh full of relief.

" You scared him away, my dear, and perhaps it's for
the best. He's a very stupid fellow, and as obstinate —
well, as a Scot."

" But knowing Harry as he does, uncle, and being so
much younger than you are, would it not be better if he
were working with you ? We must try and save poor
Harry from that dreadful fate."

'* Oh, I don't know," said Uncle Luke slowly. " There,
have some tea."

Then rising from his seat, he rang, and going to the
writing-table sat down ; and while Louise made a miserable
pretence of sipping her tea, the old man wrote down some-
thing and gave it to the waiter who entered.

'' Directly," lie said ; and the man left the room.

" Yes, on second thoughts you are quite right, my dear."

Louise looked up at him inquiringly.

" So I have telegraphed down to Hakemouth for Leslie
to come up directly."

Louise's eyes dilated, and she caught his arm.

" No, no," she whispered, " don't do that. No ; you
and I will do what is to be done. Don't send to him,
uncle, pray."

''Too late, my dear; the deed is done."

Just then the waiter re-entered.

"Telegram, sir."

Louise turned if possible more pale.

" Tut — tut ! " whispered Uncle Luke. " It can't be an
answer back. Hah ! from Madelaine."

" Your news seems too great to be true. Mr. George
Vine started for town by the first train this fnorning.
My father regrets his helplessness^

" Hah ! Come. That's very business-like of George,"
said the old man. " Louy, my dear, I'm going to turn
prophet. All this trouble is certain to turn in the right
direction after all. Why, my child 1 "

.',,

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

391

t may

lough
found
3re he
poor
raight

t's for
nate —

ing so
r if he
I poor

There,

to the
serable
1 some-

dear."
Leslie

o ; you
to him,

't be an

George
I or fling.

eorge,"

to turn

;he right

She had sunk back in her chair with the cold, dank dew
of suffering gathering upon her forehead, and a piteous look
of agony in her eyes.

" How can I meet him now ! "

The terrible hours of agony that had been hers during
the past month had so shattered the poor girl's nerves,
that even this meeting seemed more than she could bear,
and it called forth all the old man's efforts to convince her
that she had nothing to fear, but rather everything to
desire.

It was a weary and a painful time though before Louise
was set at rest.

She was seated in the darkening room, holding tightly
by the old man's hand, as a frightened child might in dread
of punishment. As the hours had passed she had been
starting at every sound, trembling as the hollow rumbling
of cab-wheels came along the street, and when by chance
a carriage stopped at the hotel her aspect was pitiable.

*' I cannot help it," she whispered. "All through these
terrible troubles I seem to have been strong, while now I
am so weak and unstrung — uncle, I shall never be myself
again."

" Yes, and stronger than ever. Come, little woman,
how ")ften have you heard or read of people suffering from
nervous reaction and — thank God ! " he muttered, as he
saw the door softly open behind his niece's chair, and his
brother stand in the doorway.

" I did not catch \vhat you said, dear," said Louise
feebly, as she lay back with her eyes closed.

Uncle Luke gave his brother a meaning look, and laid
his niece's hand back upon her knees.

" No ; it's very hard to make ont-'s self heard in this
noisy place. I was only saying, my dear, that your nerves
have been terribly upset, and that you are suffering from
the shock. You feel now afraid to meet your father lest
he should reproach you, and you can only think of him as
being bitter and angry against you for going away, as you
did ; but when he thoroughly grasps the situation, and
how you acted as you did to save your brother from arrest,
and all as it were in the wild excitement of that time, and
under pressure "

" Don't leave me, uncle."

" No, no, my dear. Only going to walk up and down,"

392

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

said the old man as he left his chair. " When he grasps
all this, and your dread of Harry's arrest, and that it was
all nonsense — there, lie back siill, it is more restful so.
That's better," he said, kissing her, and drawing away.
*' When, I say, he fully knows that it was all nonsense due
to confounded Aunt Margaret and her noble Frenchmen,
and that insteiid of an elopement with some scoundrel,
you were only performing a sisterly duty, he'll take you in
his arms "

Uncle Luke was on the far side of the room now, and
in obedience to his signs, and trembling violently, George
"Vine had gone slowly towards the vacated seat.

** You think he will, uncle, and forgive me ? " she fal-
tered, as she lay back still with her eyes closed.

" Think, my darling ? I'm sure of it. Yes, he'll take
you in his arms."

A quiet sigh.

" And say "

G'^orge Vine sank trembling into the empty chair.

" Forgive me, my child, for ever doubting you."

" Oh, no, uncle."

" And I say, yes ; and thank God for giving me my
darling back once more."

" Forgive me ! Thank God for giving me my darling
back once more ! Louise ! "

" Father ! "

A wild, sobbing cry, as the two were locked in each
other's arms.

At that moment the door was closed softly, and Uncle
Luke stood blowing his nr je outside upon the mat.

" Nearly seventy, and sobbing like a child," he muttered
softly. " Dear me, what an old fool I am."

CHAPTER LXHL

LESLIE MAKES AN ANNOUNCEMENT.

It was a week before the London doctor said that Louise
Vine might undertake the journey down home ; but when
it was talked of, she looked up at her father in a troubled
way.

^HHBPp— ^

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

393

sps
was
so.
iray.
due
nen,
drel,
»u in

, and

;orge

2 fal-
take

le my
iarling

each
Uncle
ittered

; Louise
ut when
roubled

" It would be better, my darling," lie whispered. '* You
shrink from going back to the old place. Why should you,
where there will be nothing but lovj andc(;mmiseration?"

" It is not that," she said sadly. '• Harry ! "

" Yes ! But we can do no more by staying here."

" Not a bit," said Uncle Luke. '* Let's get down to the
old sea shore again, Louy. Jf we stop here much longer
I shall die. Plarry's safe enough somewhere. Let's go
home."

Louise made no more opposition, and it was decided
that they should start at once, but the journey had to be
deferred on account of business connected with Pradelle's
examination.

This was not talked of at the hotel, and I.ouise remained
in ignorance of a great deal of what took place l)efore they
were free to depart.

That journey down was full of painful memories for
Louise, and it was all she could do to restrain her tears as
the train stopped at the station, which was associated in
her mind with her brother, and again and again she seemed
to see opposite to her, shrinking back in the corner by
the window nearest the platform, the wild, iiaggard eyes
and the frightened furtive look at every passenger that
entered the carriage.

The journey seemed interminable, and even when Ply-
mouth had been reached, there was still the long slow ride
over the great wooden bridges with the gurgling streams
far down in the little rock ravines

*' Hah ! " said Uncle Luke cheerily, " one begins to
breathe now. Look."

He pointed to the shadow of the raihvay train plainly
seen against the woods, for the full round moon was rising
slowly.

" This is better than a gas-lamp shadow, eh, and you
don't get such a moon as that in town. I've lost count,
George. How arc the tides this week } "

Vine shook his head.

"No, you never did know anything about the tides,
George. Always did get cut off Be drowned some day,
shut in under a cliff; and you can't climb."

They rode on in silence for some time, watching the
moonlight effect on the patches of wood in the dark
hollows, the rocky hill slopes, and upon one or another of

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

t\f^l

.S \

^1 Mis \
l''''7 if

iff I

•\%

W^i

the gaunt deserted engine-houses looking like the towers
of ruined churches high up on the hills, here black, and
there glittering in the moonlight, as they stood out against
she sky.

These traces of the peculiar industry of the district had
a peculiar fascination for Louise, who found herself con-
stantly comparing these buildings with one beyond their
house overlooking the beautiful bay. There it seemed to
stand out bold and picturesque, with the long shaft running
snake-like up the steep hillside, to end in the perpendicular
monument-like chimney that formed the landmark by
which the sailors set vessels' heads for the harbour.

But that place did not seem deserted as these. At any
time when she looked she could picture the slowly moving
beam of the huge engine, and the feathery plume of grey
smoke which floated away on the western breeze. There
was a bright look about the place, and always associated
with it she seemed to see Duncan Leslie, now looking
appealingly in her eyes, now bitter and stern as he looked
on her that night when Harry beat him down and they fled,
leaving him insensible upon the floor.

What might have been !

That was the theme upon which her busy brain toiled
in spite of her efforts to divert the current of thought into
another channel. And when in despair she conversed
with father or uncle for a few minutes, and silence once
more reigned, there still was Duncan Leslie's home, and its
owner gazing at her reproachfully.

" Impossible ! " she always said to herself; and as often
as she said this she felt that there would be a terrible
battle with self, for imperceptibly there had grown to be a
subtle advocate for Duncan Leslie in her heart.

" But it is impossible," she always said, and emphasized
it. " We are disgraced. With such a shadow over our
house tbit could never be ; and he doubted, he spoke so
cruelly, his eyes flashed such jealcus hatred. If he had
loved me, he would have trusted, no matter what befel."

But as she said all this to herself, the advocate was
busy, and she felt the weakness of her case, but grew more
determinedly obstinate all the same.

And the train glided on over the tall scaffold-like
bridges, the treetops glistened in the silvery moonlight,
and there was a restful feeling of calm in her spirit that
she had not known for days.

waa^-

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

39S

owers
k, and
[gainst

ict had
If con-
d their
med to
•mining
idicular
ark by

•

At any
moving

of grey

There

sociated

looking
e looked
hey fled,

lin toiled
ight into
onversed
nee once
e, and its

as often

terrible

n to be a

aphasized
over our
spoke so

If he had

: befel."

ocate was
lew more

;affold-like
iioonlight,
spirit that

^ " No place like home," said Uncle Luke, breaking a long
silence as Ihcy glided away from the last station.

"No place like home," echoed his brother, as he
sought for and took liis cliild's hand. ''You will stop
with us to-night, Luke ? "

" Hear him, Louy ? " said the old man. '' Now, is it
likely?"

"But your place will be cheerless and bare to-night."

"Cheerless? Hare! I'ou don't know what you are
talking about. If you only knew the longing I have to be
once more in my own bed. listening to wind and sea. No,
thank you."

" But, uncle, for to-night, do stay."

"N( T, that's unkind, Louy, after all the time you've
made me be away. Well, I will, as a reward to you for rous-
ing yourself up a bit. One condition though ; will you
come down to-morrow and talk to me while I fish? "

She remained silent.

"Then I don't stop to-niglit."

" I will come to-morrow, uncle."

" Then, I'll stop."

The train glided on as they watched in silence now for
the lights of the little town. First, the ruddy glow of the
great lamp on the cast pier of tlie harbour nj^jieared ; then
glittering faintly like stars, there were the various lights of
the town rising from tlie water's edge right up to the high
terrace level, with the old granite house — the erst peace-
ful, calm old home.

The lights glittered brightly, but they looked dim to
Louise, seen as they were through a veil of tears, and now,
as they rapidly neared, a strange feeling of agitation filled
the brain of the returned wanderer.

It w IS home, but it could never be the same home again.
All would be changed. A feeling of separation must arise
between her and Madelaine. The two families must live
apart, and a dark rift in her life grow wider as the time
glided on, till she was farther and farther away from the
bright days of youth, with little to look forward to but
sorrow and the memory of the shadow hanging over their
home.

" Here we are," cried Uncle Luke, as the train glided
slowly alongside the platform and then "topped. " Got all
your traps ? George, give me my stick. Now, then, you
first."

396

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

;:!^
%

Nil , '

I' ■

1- • '

f <

The station lamps were burning brightly as T.ouise gave
her father licr hand and stcj^pcd out. Then slie rc'ltl)lin(l
and troubled with a strange feeling of dread, and fur a few
moments everything seemed to swim round as a strange
singing filled jier ears.

Then there was a fiiint ejaculation, two warm soft arms
clasped her, and a well-known voice said, in a loving
whisper,

*' l.ouise — sister-^— at last ? "

For one moment the dark veil over her eyes seemed to
lift, and like a flash she realised that Madelainc was not in
black, and that resting upon a stick there was a pale face
which lit up with smiles as its owner clasped her to his
breast in turn.

" ]\Iy dearest child ! welcome back. The place is not
the same without you."

'• Louy, my darling ! " in another pleasant voice, as
kisses were rained upon her cheek, and there was another
suggestion of rain which left its marks warm.

" He would come, George Vine ; " and the giver of these
last kisses and warm tears did battle for the possession
of the returned truant. " Maddy, my dear," she cried re-
proachfully, and in a loud parenthesis, *' let me have one
hand. He ought not to have left the house, but he is so
determined. He would come."

" Well, Dutch doll, don't I deserve a kiss ? " cried old
Luke grimlv.

"Dear Uncle Luke!"

" Hah, that's better. George, I think I shall go home
with the Van Heldres. I'm starving."

" But you can't," cried the lady of that house in dismay ;
" we are all coming up to you. Ah, Mr. Leslie, how do
you do ?"

** Quite well," said that personage quietly ; and Madelaine
felt Louise's hand close upon hers spasmodically.

" Leslie ! you here ? " said George Vine eagerly.

" Yes ; I came down from town in the same train."

*' Too proud to be seen with us, eh ? " said Uncle Luke
sarcastically, as there was a warm salute from the Van
Heldres to one as great a stranger as the Vines.

" 1 thought it would be more delicate to let you come
down alone," said Leslie gravely.

George Vine had by this time got hold of the young
man's hand.

THE II A UTE NOBLESHE,

397

gave
blind
a few
range

; arms
oving

"My boy — Harry?" he whispered, "have you any
news ? "

" Yes," was whispered back. " Let me set your mind
at rest. He is safe."

"But where? For Heaven's sake, man, speak!"
panted the trem])ling father as he cUnig to him.

" Across the sea."

led to
not in
e face
to his

is not

ce, as
.nother

)f these
session
ried re-
ive one
le is so

ried old

JO home

dismay ;
how do

adelaine

[n."

cle Luke

the Van

ou come

te young

CHAPTKR T.XIV.

HARRY'S MKSSAOK.

"Do you wish me to repeat it? Have you not neard
from your father or your uncle ? "

" Yes ; but I want to hear it all again from you. Harry
sent me some message."

Leslie was silent.

" Why do you not speak? You are keeping something
back."

" Yes ; he gave me a message for you, one I was to
deliver."

"Well," said Louise quickly, "why do you not deliver

it?"

" Because Harry is, in spite of his trouble, still young
and thoughtless. It is a message that would make you
more bitter against me than you are now."

Louise rose from where she was seated in tlie dining-
room, waUced across to the bay window, looked out upon
the sea, and then returned.

" I am not bitter against you, Mr. Leslie. How could
I be against one who has served us so well? But tell me
my brother's message now."

He looked at her with so deep a sense of passionate
longing in his eyes, that ns she met his ardent gaze her
eyes sank, and her colour began to heighten.

"No," he said, "I cannot deliver the message now.
Some day, when time has worked its changes, T will tell
you word for word. Be satisfied when I assure you that
your brother's message will not affect his position m the
least, and will be better told later on." _

.She looked at him half wondermgly, and it seemed to
him that there was doubt in her eyes.

398

TIIK HAUTE NO lU. ESSE,

h 1

i'*^

Ij'i

i H

■\\ I

" Can you not have faith in mc ? " he said quietly, " and
believe when I tell you that it is better tluit 1 should not
speak ? "

" Yes," she said softly, " I will have faith in you and
wait."

" I thank you," he said gravely.

" Now tell me more about Harry."

"There is very little to tell," replied Leslie. "As I
went downstairs that day, I found him just about to enter
the house. For a moment I was startled, but I am not a
superstitious man, and I grasped at once how we had all
been deceived, and who it was dealt me the blow and
tripped me that night ; and in the reaction which came upon
me, I seized him, and dragged him to the first cab I could
find."

" I was half mad with delight," continued Leslie, speak-
ing, in spite of his burning words, in a slow, calm, respect-
ful way. *• I saw how I had been deceived that night, who
had been your companion, and why you had kept silence.
For the time I hardly knew what I did or said in my
delirious joy, but I was brought to myself, as I sat holding
your brother's wrist tightly, by his saying slowly.

" ' There, I'm sick of it. You can leave go. I shan't
try to get away. It's all over now.' "

" He thought you had made him a prisoner ? '

" Yes ; and I thought him a messenger of peace, who
had come to point out my folly, weakness, and want of
faith."

Louise covered her face with her hands, and he saw that
she was sobbing gently.

" It was some time before I could speak," continued
Leslie. " I was still holding his wrist tightly, and it was
not until he spoke again that I felt as if I could explain."

" ' Where are you taking me ? ' he said. ' Is it necessary
for Mr. Leslie, my father's friend, to play policeman in the
case ? '

" ' When will you learn to believe and trust in me, Harry
Vine ? ' I said.

" ' Never,' he replied bitterly, and in the gladness of my
heart I laughed, and could have taken him in my arms
and embraced him as one would a lost brother just returned
to us from the dead.

" ' You will repent that,' I said ; and I felt then that my
course was marked out, and I could see my way."

THE IIAVTE .YOnr.r.SSF.

390

Louise let fall licr hands, and s;uik into a chair, her
eyes dilating as sh.c gazed earnestly ai the ([iiiet, endiirinjj
man, who .low narrated to her much that was new ; and
ever as he sj^oke somcihing in her brain seemed to Veep
on repeating in a low and constant repetition ;

" lie loves mc — he loves \\\c — bui it can never he."

** ' Where am 1 taking you?' 1 said," continued Leslie.
'* ' To where you can make a fresh start in life.' " And as
Louise gazed at him she saw that he was looking fixedly
at the spot upon the carpet where her brother had last
stood when he was in that room.

*' ' Not to '

*' He stopped short there ; and I Yes, and I naist

stop short too. It is very absurd, Miss Vine, for me to be
asked all this."

" Go on — go on ! " said Louise hoarsely.

Leslie glanced at her, and withdraw his eyes.

" ' Will you go abroad, Harry, and make a new begin-
ning?' I said.

" Poor lad ! he was utterly broken down, and he would
have thrown himself upon his knees to me if 1 had not
forced him to keep his seat."

" My brother 1 " sighed Louise.

" 1 asked him then if he would be willing to leave you
all, and go right away ; and I told him what I proposed—
that I had a brother superintending some large tin mines
north of Malacca. That I would give him such letters as
would ensure a welcome, and telegraph his coming under
an assumed name."

" And he accepted ? "

" Yes. There, I have nothing to add to all this. I
went across with him to Paris, and, after securing a berth
for him, we went south to Marseilles, where I saw hmi on
board one of the Messagerics Mar i times vessels bound for
the P:ast, and we parted. That is all."

" But money ; necessaries, Mr. Leslie ? He was pen-

iiiless."

" Oh, no," said Leslie smiling; and Louise pressed her

teeth upon her quivering lip.

" There," said Leslie, " T wouid not have said all this,
but you forced it from me ; and now you know all, try to
be at rest. As I told Mr. Vine last night, I suppose it
would mean trouble with the authorities if it were known,

■5?fS?

^•"vwjwmsms

'''il

400

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

but I think I was justified in what I did. We understand
Harry's nature better thaa any judge, and our plan for
bringhig him back to his life as your brother is better than
theirs. So," he went on with a pleasant smile, " we will
keep our secret about him. My brother Dick is one of
the truest fellows that ever stepped, and Harry is sure to
like him. The climate is not bad. It will be a complete
change of existence, and some day when all this trouble is
forgotten he can return."

" My brother exiled ; /;one for ever."

" My dear Miss Vine," said Leslie quietly, " the world
has so changed now that we can smile at al^ those old-
fashioned ideas. Your brother is in Malacca. Well, I
cannot speak ex?xtly, but I believe I am justified in say-
ing that you could send a message to him from this place
in Cornwall, and get an answer by to-morrow morning at
the farthest, perhaps to-night. You father at one time
could not have obtained one from Exeter in the same
space."

" There," he continued quietly, " you are agitated now,
and I will say good-bye. Is not that Madelaine Van Hel-
dre coming up the path ? Yes, unmistakably. Now, le*-
us bury the past and look forward to the future — a happier
one for you, I hope and pray. Good-bye."

He held out his hand, and she looked at him wcnder-
ingly.

" Good-bye ? "

" Well, for a time. You are weak and ill. Perhaps you
will go away for a change — perhaps I shall. Next time
we meet '.ime will have softened all this trouble, and you
will have forgiven one whose wish was to serve you, all his
weakness, all his doubts. God bless you, Louise Vine !
Good-bye ! "

He held out his hand again, but she did not take it.
She only stood gazing wildly at him in a way that he dared
not interpret, speechless, pale, and with her lips quivering.

He gave her one long, yearning look, and, turning
quickly, he was at the door.

"■ Mr. Leslie— stop ! "

"■ You wished to say something," he cried as he turned
toward her and caught her out-stretched hand to raise it
passionately to his lips. " You do not, you cannot, say
it ? I will say it for you, then. Good-bye

I "

mmmmmmm

THE HAUTE MBLESSE. . ^^I

bro'thl°/s'Jetge"'"' " ='^ '^'""^ '° his hand. "My

'' Tell me now ; what did Harry say > "
-Leslie was silent for a while Th^,,' ^lo • i.
tighUy to his breast, he :!^t a il^ '^0 ToTc^^^ "°^^

everted ask h^' '^""II^ '" ^°" "'^ '"''=^' ^^'^^^ *at
ever lived , ask her some day to make it so indeed "

There was a long silence, during which the door w,,
pressed slowly open ; but they did not leed and he To
en ered heard h,s child's words come almost in a ,v^' 3;^°
Some day," she said; " some day when time has soft
ened a 1 these griefs. Yonr own worlds. Dun an." " '°"-
Yes,' he said, "my own."
" Hah ! "

.•Jh\% ^'^ ""li '^^'^ ^'^"^ ^^''' ^"^^'^^^ ^' that long-drawn
w| "^^t^"' ^^^^' ^^^ ^^^^^ -^^^ ^^- --e q'uesti^n

holI^^'A l""'"^ P^'''^^ ^^'"^ S'^^'^^y as he took Leslie's
dark night, but joy cometh m the morning."

CHAPTER LXV.

UNCLE LUKE HAS A WORD.

John Van Heldre sat in his office chair at his table once
more after a long and weary absence, and Crampton stood
opposite scowling at him.

The old clerk had on one cf his most sour looks when
Van Heldre raised his eyes from the ledger he was scan-

40^

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

ning, and he made no remark ; but looking up again he
saw the scowl apparently intensified.

" What's the matter, Crampton ? Afraid I shall dis-
cover that you have been guilty of embezzlement? " said
Van Heldre, smiling.

" Not a bit," said the old clerk, ^* nor you aien't either."

" Then what is the meaning of the black look ? "

" Oh, nothing — nothing ! "

" Come, out with it, man. What's the matter ? "

" Well, if you must know, sir, I want to know why you
can't keep quiet and get quite well, instead of coming
muddling here."

" Crampton ! "

" Well, I must speak, sir. I don't want you to be laid
up again."

" No fear."

" But there is fear, sir. You know I can keep things
going all right."

" Yes, Crampton, and show a better balance than I did."

" Well then, sir, why don't you let me go on ? I can
manage, and I will manage if you'll take a holiday."

" Holiday, man ? why it has been nothing but one Ion-
painful holiday lately, and this does me good. Now, bring
in the other book."

Crampton grunted and went into the outer office to
return with the cash-book, which he placed before his
employer, and drew back into his old position, watching
Van Heldre as he eagerly scanned the pages and marked
their contents, till, apparently satisfied, he looked up to see
that Crampton was smiling down at him.

" What now ? "

" Eh ? "

" I say what now ? Why are you laughing ? "

" Only smiling, sir."

" Well, what have I done that is ridiculous? "

" Ridiculous ? Why I was smiling because it seemed
like the good old times to have you back busy with the
books."

" Crampton, we often say that my old friend is an
eccentric character, but really I think Luke Vine must give
place to you."

" Dessay," said Crampton sourly. " You go on with
these accounts. Look half way down."

mmmmmm

with

TB£ HAUTE NOBLESSE, ^^^

^f'^v?"/ "^'"/^^ ^°°^ ¥^ '"^y ^^^^"' ^"d paused.
Five hundred pounds on the credit side per the
cheque wrote for Mr. Luke Vine-why, whaP^h'ir? '' '
Ah ! that s what you may well say, sir. Refused to take
the money, sir. I'm sure I'm not so'eccentric as that.''
^^^ut you never mentioned it, Crampton ? "

whifr^'T! H ' '''' T^\ "'>' P^"- ^"^^'^ ^t is "^ black and
wJiite. Better ajul plainer than soundine words • and
besides you weren't here." ^"x^uing woras . and,

•• But this is absurd, Crampton."

" That's what I told him, sir."

"Well, what did he say?"

" That I was an old fool, sir."

" Tut— tut— tut ! " ejaculated Van Heldre ; "but he
must be paid. I can't let him lose the money."

" What I told him, sir. I said we couldn't let him lose the
money.

" What did he say to that? "

" Called me an old fool again much stronger, si" Most
ungentlemanly—used words, sir, that he must have picked
up on the beach." ^

"I hardly like to trouble him directly he is back • but
would you mind sending up to Mr. Luke Vine, with my
compliments, and asking him to come here."

" Send at once, sir ? "

"At once."

" Perhaps before I leave the office, sir, I might as well
call your attention to a communication received this
morning."

Van Heldre looked enquiringly at his old clerk.

" It's rather curious, sir," he said, handing a letter,
which he had been keeping back as a sort of hon7ie bouche
for the last piece of business transacted that morning.

*' Never presented yet ? " said Van Heldre, nodding his
head slowly.

" They must have known I stopped the notes directly,"
said Crampton with a self-satisfied smile.

'' I had hoped that the whole of that terrible business
had been buried for good."

" So it had, sir," grunted Crampton ; *' but some one or
another keeps digging it up again."

Van Heldre made no rei)ly, so Crampton left the office,
sent off a messenger, and ic turned to find his employer

404

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

\\\

if '•'

^m'i

'. I

"'1 ,!

■II -

"I .1 •>

seated with his face buried in his hands, thinking deeply,
and heedless of his presence.

" Poor George ! " he said aloud. " Poor misguided boy I
I wish Crampton had been "

" I'm back here," said Crampton.

" Ah ! Crampton/' said "Van Heldre starting, " sent off
the message ? "

"Yes, sir, I've sent off the message," said the old man
sternly. " Pray finish what you were saying, sir. Never
mind my feelings."

" What I was saying, Crampton ? I did not say any-
thing."

" Oh, yes, you did, sir; you wished Crampton had been
— what, sir — buried too, like the trouble ? "

" My good fellow — my dear old Crampton ! surely I did
not say that aloud."

" Hov/ could I have heard it, sir, if you hadn't ? I only
did my duty."

" Yes, yes, of course, of course, Crampton. Really I am
very, very sorry."

" And only just before I left the room you were com-
plaining about people digging up the old trouble."

"Come, Crampton, I can deny that. I apologize for
thinking aloud, but it was you who spoke of digging up the
old trouble."

"Ah ! well, it doesn't matter, sir. It was my birthday
just as you were at your worst. Seventy-five, ]\Ir. Van
Heldre, sir, and you can't be troubled with such a blunder-
ing old clerk much longer."

" My dear Crampton "

" May I come in ? " followed by three thumps with a
heavy stick.

Crampton hurried to the outer ofiice to confront Uncle
Luke.

" Met your messenger just outside, and saved him from
going up. How much did you give him? He ought to
pay that back."

" Oh, never mind that, Luke. How are you ? "

" How am I ? "

" Yes. Getting settled down again ? "

" How am I ? Well, a little better this morning. Do I
smell of yellow soap ? "

" No."

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

;ply,
)oy !

It off

man
lever

any-
been
I did

I only

y lam

I com-

ize for
up the

rthday
r. Van
lunder-

with a

t Uncle

im from
ught to

40s

Do!

Wonder at it. I spent nearly all yesterday trying to
get off the London dirt and smoke. Treat to get back to
where there's room to breathe."

" Ah, you never did like London."

"And London never hked me, so we're even there
Well," he continued after a pause filled up by a low mutter-
ing grunt, " what do you want? You didn't send for me
to come and tell you that I had caught a cold on my
journey down, or got a rheumatic twinge."

" No, no, Luke, of course not."

" Nice one, 'pon my word ! " muttered Crampton.

'' Well, what is it ? "

Crampton moved toward the door, his way lying by
Uncle Luke ; but juot as he neared the opening, the visitor
made a stab at the wall with his heavy stick, and, as it
were, raised a bar before the old clerk, who started
violently.

" Bless my heart, IMr. Luke Vine ! " he cried ; '' what are
you about? Don't do that."

" Stop here, then. Who told you to go ? "

'' No one, sir, but— ^ — "

_" How do I know what he wants. I may be glad of a
witness."

" Oh, yes ! You need not go, Crampton," said Van
Heldre. '^ Sit down, Luke."

" No, thankye. Sit too much for my health now. Come ;
out with it. What do you want ? There is something ? "

" Yes, there is something," said Van Heldre quietly.
" Look here, my dear Luke Vine."

" Thought as much," sneered the old man. " You want
to borrow money, my dear Van Heldre."

" No ; I want to pay money, Luke Vine. It seems that
you have returned that five hundred pounds to Crampton."

'* What five hundred pounds ? "

'* The money you — there, we will not dwell upon that
old trouble, my dear Luke. Come ; you know what I
mean."

" Oh, I sec," said the old man with much surprise.
*' That five hundred pounds. Well, what about it? "

*' How could you be so foolish as to return my cheque ? "

" Because you didn't owe me the money."

"Nonsense, my dear fellow ! Wc are old friends, but
that was entirely a business transaction."

ill ihi

^ hi)

-Ji'4 '

f.l

406

7Wii HAUTE NOBLESSE,

" Yes, of course it was."

" Five hundred pounds were stolen."

" Yes, and 1 was all right."

" Exactly. Why should you suppose it was your
money?"

" Suppose ? Because it was mine — my new Bank of
England notes."

" How do you know that? "

" Never mind how I know it, and never mind talking
about the money I didn't lose."

'* But you did, Luke Vine, and heavily. Of course I
am going to refund you the money."

" You can't, man."

"Can't?"

** No ; because I've got it safely put away in my pocket-
book."

Van Heldre made an impatient gesticulation.

" I tell you I have. The same notes, same numbers,
just as you laid them all together."

'* Nonsense, man ! Come, Luke Vine, my dear old
friend, let me settle this matter with you in a business-like
way ; I shall not be hai)py till I do."

" Then you'll have to wait a long lime for happiness,
John," said Uncle Luke, smiling, " for you are not going
to pay me."

" But, my dear Luke."

" But, my dear Jolin ! you men who turn over your
thousands are as careless as boys over small amounts, as
you call them."

" Oh, come, Mr. Luke Vine, sir," said Crampton sturdily;
" there's no carelessness in this office."

" Bah ! Clerk ! " cried Uncle Luke. " Careful, very.
Then how was it the money was stolen ? "

" Well, sir, nobody can guard against violence," said
Crampton sourly.

" Yes, they can, you pompous old antiquity. I could.
I'm not a business man. I don't have ledgers and iron
safes and a big office, but I took care of the money better
than you did."

" My dear Luke Vine, what do you mean ? " cried Van
Heldre, after giving Crampton a look which seemed to
say, '• Don't take any notice."

" Mean ? Why, what I said. You people were so care-
less that I didn't trust you. I had no confidence."

'* Well, sir, you had confidence cnoii:;h to place five
hundred pounds in our house," said Crampton gruffly

*' Yes, and you lost it."

" Yes, sir, and our house offered you a cheque for the
amount, and you sent it back."

" Of course I did. I didn't want my money twice over,
did I ? "

*' Is this meant for a riddle, Luke? " said Van Heldre,
annoyed, and yet amused.

" Riddle ? No. I only want to piick that old bubble
Crampton, who is so proud of the way in which he can
take care of money, and who has always been these last
ten years flourishing that iron safe in my face."

"■ Really, Mr. Luke Vine ! "

"Hold your tongue, sir! Wasn't my five hundred
pounds — new crisp Bank of England notes— in your
charge ? "

"Yes, sir, in our charge."

" Then, why didn't you watch over them, and take care
of 'em? Where are they now? "

" Well, sir, it is hard to say. They have never been
presented at any bank."

" Of course they haven't, when I've got 'em safe in my
pocket-book."

" In your pocket-book, sir ? "

" Yes. Don't you believe me ? There ; look. Bit
rubbed at the edges with being squeezed in the old leather,
but there are the notes; aren't they? Look at the num-
bers."

As the old man spoke he took a shabby old pocket-
book from his breast, opened it, and drew out a bundle of
notes held together by an elastic band, and laid them on
the office table with a bang.

" Bless my heart ! " cried Crampton excitedly, as he
hastily put on his spectacles and examined the notes, and
compared them with an entry in a book. " Yes, sir," he
said to Van Heldre ; " these are the very notes."

" But how came you by them, Luke Vine ? " cried Van
Heldre, who looked as mucli astounded as his clerk.

" How came I by them?" snarled Uncle Luke. "Do
you think five hundred pounds are to be picked up in the
gutter. I meant that money, and more too, for that
unfortunate boy ; and the more careless he was the more
necessary it became for me to look after his interests."

4o8

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE,

" You meant that money for poor Harry ? "

"To be sure I did, and by the irony of fate the poor
misguided lad sent his companion to steal it."

" Good heavens ! " ejaculated Van Heldre, while Cramp-
ton nodded his head so sharply that his spectacles dropped
off, and were only saved from breaking by a quick
interposition of the hands.

** And did the foolish fellow restore the money to you ? "
said Van Heldre.

" Bah ! no ! He never had it."

" Then how "

" How? Don't I tell you I watched — hung about the
place, not feeling satisfied about my property, and I came
upon my gentleman just as he was escaping with the
plunder."

" And " exclaimed Crampton excitedly.

" I knocked him down — with that ruler, and got my
money out of his breast. Narrow escape, but I got it."

" Why did you not mention this before, Luke Vine ? "

'* Because I had got my money safe — because I wanted
to give clever people a lesson — because I did not want to
see my nephew in gaol — because I did not choose — because

Here, you Crampton, give me back those n..tes.

Thankye, I'll take care of theni in future myself."

He replaced the notes in the case, and buttoned it care-
fully in his breast.

*' Luke, you astonish me," cried Van Heldre.

" Eccentric, my dear sir, eccentric. Now, then, you
see why I returned you the cheque. Morning."

Crampton took out his silk pocket-handkerchief, and
began to polish his glasses as he gazed hard at his em-
ployer after following Uncle Luke to the door, which was
closed sharply.

" Poor Harry Vine ! " said Van Heldre sadly. " Com-
bining with another to rob himself. Surely the ways of
sin are devious, Crampton ? "

" Yes," said the old man thoughtfully. *' I wish I had
waited till you got well."

" Too late to think of that, Crampton," said Van Heldre
sadly. " When do you go to Pradelle's trial ? "

" There, sir, you've been an invalid, and you're not well
yet. Suppose we keep that trouble buried, and let other
people dig it up, and I'll go when I'm obliged. I suppose
you don't want to screen him ? "

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.
" I screen him ? "

'' Know anything about— eli ? "
** Yes, sir, I hope so too— for ^^ood."

CHAPTER LXVI.

TRIED IN THE FIRE.

After, as it were, a race for life, the breathless compe-
itors seemed to welcome the restful change, and the sTeen
that came almost unalloyed by the mental pang wtct
had left their marks upon the brows of young tnd old
And swift tides came and went with the calms and storms'
of the western coast, but somehow all seemed to tell of
rest and peace.

.J.VT "" ^''^' ^^T- ^'"f "^^ ^^"^^^"'^ ^'^^ been placed in
what Sergeant Parkins facetiously termed one of her

Majesty s boarding schools, under a good master, that
John Van Heldre wrote the following brief letter m answer
to one that was very long, dated a month previous to the
response, and bearing the post-mark of the Straits Settle-
ments : —

"Harry YixNe,— I quite appreciate what you say re-
garding your long silence. I am too old a man to believe
in a hasty repentance forced on by circumstances
Hence, I say, you have done wisely in waiting a year be-
fore writing as fully as you have. George and Luke Vine
have always been to me as brothers. You know how I
felt toward their son. I say to him now you are acting
wisely, and I am glad that you have met such a friend as
Richard Leslie.

" Certainly ; stay where you are, though there is nothing
to fear now from the law, I guarantee that. The years
soon roll by. I say this for all our sakes.

" As to the final words of your letter— one of my earliest

4IO

THE HAUTE NOBLESSE.

1, d, f '

recollections is that of my little hands being held together
by one whom you lost too soon in life. Had your mother
lived, your career might have been different. What I was
taught as my little hands were held together, I still re-
peat : * As we forgive them that trespass against us.' Yes.
Some day I hope to give you in the flesh that which I give
you in the spirit now — my hand."

Six more years had passed before a broad-shouldered,
bronzed, and bearded man — partner in the firm of Leslie
and Vine, Singapore and Penang — grasped John Van
Heldre's hand, and asked him a question to which the old
merchant replied : " Yes, all is forgiven and forgotten
now. If you can win her ; yes."

• But the days glided on and the question was not asked.
Uncle Harry was constantly on the beach or down on the
rocks with the two little prattling children of Duncan
Leslie and his wife, and Uncle Luke, who seemed much
the same, was rather disposed to be jealous of the favour
in which the returned wanderer stood ; but he indulged in
a pleasant smile now and then, when he was not seen, and
had taken to a habit of stopping his nephew on the beach
at unexpected times, and apparently for no reason what-
ever.

The question was not asked, for Aunt Marguerite, who
had taken to her bed for the past year, was evidently fad-
ing fast. As Dr. KnatchbuU said, she h d been dying for
months, and it was the state of her health which brought
her nephew back to England, to find his old sins forgotten
or forgiven, a year sooner than he had intended.

By slow degrees the vitality had passed from the old
woman step by step, till the brain alone remained bright
and clear. She was as exacting as ever, and insisted upon
her bed being draped with flowers and lace and silk, and
her one gratification was to be propped up, with a fan in
one nerveless hand and a scent-bottle in the other, listen-
ing to the reading of some old page of French history,
over which she smiled and softly nodded her head.

One day Harry was down near the harbour talking to
Poll Perrow, whose society he often affected, to the old
woman's great delight, when Madelaine Van Heldre came
to him hastily.

" Is anything wrong ? " he asked excitedly.

She bowed her head, and for the moment could not
speak.

t'.

^\\

THE HAUTE mniESSE. ^„

"Aunt Marguerite?"

never mill the mire KrpnK \ V '"r '"■-' "'« I should
changc^iid ',1'^^ '/'"'-'' r™"'' "'"-" ^I'e seemed lo

no. gi,e ,,o„^e ^I'Tvln:yi::^,;;;;/ ,ir ^r rof Jr7 ^^'^

and she is witi, her aunt I ^Tw. \ll ■ ^^ "°''''

Vine Who is do.,, <.„ i,;- shore'l^it '^.fdelilL.V'^" '^''•

Which ihe rest of fh^LX ry:!;,r'' "'^' ^"'' •^^°'"

wan^lrs;'eak';: niu-r;';;""'-^'' " >■"" "-^ -' -it- I

and^the'itT i", ':^r;;i,^-\;T: ';,:r;:;!! "'^ ^-"^"^ "-^'

strong even in den h in h, , "*>' ''•■'■'*'*'™ ^"H

but ht heard Ih^all.""'^ ^'' ""^■^ •^'^™^- ^"^ '^''"'1/;

VVe are the des \ ignes, say what thev will. Nowmirrv

"au^i^T^^il,^""^-""-''™-^''-

An hour later she was peaccfullv aslcen.
Closed m death," said Harry S-ine a he laid his hind
reverently across the witliered li Is; '• hut her eves mus?.
open now, father, to the truth." ^ " ^^

There was to he a quiet litt e dinner at I eslie's il^nnt ,
fortnight later, and after a walk down h ourl he church
yard the party were going up the s.eep cliff ah Leslie
and h,.s handsome young wife were on ahead the old men
coining slowly to.hng on behind as Harry topped with
Madelaine ,n the well-known sheltered niche
. J hey stood gazing out at the sea, stretchinr as it were
into infinity, and as tl-.ey ga.ed they went oif w (h heir

dicrs'^i-y:?' '■"« ^^''™'^ "^ ">^ ""-^' °"i ••^'^^•^ pS-

;; Did you hear her last words? " sai<I Harry gravely.

The look which accompanied the answer was frank and
calm. It seemed to la^k emoiion, hut ihere was a dep h
of patient truth and trust therein which told of endurmg

" She would have me many soon—some good true
woman, one of the Haitte Nobicsur ^ '

412

THE irAUTE XOniESSE.

"Yes; it would bcbL'ltcr so."

" I have loved one of the JIautc Noblesse for seven years
as a weak, foolish boy — seven years as a trusting man —
and she has not changed. Maddy, is my reward to come
at last ? "

As Madelaine placed her hands calmly in those extenoed
to her she seemed without emotion still ; but there was a
joyous light in her brightening eyes, and then a deep flush
suffused her cheeks, as two words were spoken by one of
the trio of old men who had slowly toiled up toward where
they stood.

" Thank God ! "

It was George Vine who spoke, and the others seemed to
look ^^Amen"

I if

THE END.

',1 ih

Burdock.

Blood^

il ITERS

THE KEY TO HEALTH unlocks
all the clogfjt'il secretiong of tlio Ktomjich, Liver,
iHovvt'lg mill iiloo'l, carryinf? off all humors and
fimpuritic^^froni tlicentire system, correcting Acid-
ity, and curiuf^iJiliousncss, Dyspepsia, Sick Head-
ache. Uonstipuiion, Hlieumatism, Dr> i)sy, Dry
Skin. Dizzinoi^a, Jaundice, Heartburn. Nervou.1
^and General Debility, Salt Rheum, Erysipelas,
pcrofula, etc. It purifies and eradicates from the
Blood all poisonous humors, from a common
.Pimple to the worst Scrofulous Sore.

THE CURSE OF CARNE'S HOLD

A STORY OF ADVENTURE.

From our perusal of the book we have no hesitation
in declaring that the Story will be enjoyed by all classes
of Readers. Their sympathies will be at once aroused
in the characters first introduced to their notice, and
in the circumstances attending a lamentable catastrophe,
which breaks up a happy household in grief and despair.
The hero of the story, broken-hearted and despairing, tlees
to the Cape, determined if i)ossil)le to lose hi". life in battle.
He joins the Cape Mounted Rifles, and in c»ctr e ..ervice
finds the best solace for his dejected spirits. Romance is
again infused into his life by his success in rescuing from
the Kaffirs a young and beautiful lady, whom he gallantly
bears on horseback beyond reach of their sjjears.

From this point the Story takes up novel and startling
developments. The hero's affairs in the old country are
adjusted by a surprising disc(3very, and " The Curse of
Carne's Hold " is brought to a happy and satisfactory
conclusion.

Few authors possess in so eminent a degree as Mr G. A-
Henty the ability to produce stories full of thrilling situ-
ations, while at the same time preserving and inculcating
a high moral tone throughout. As a writer of stories fitted
for the home circle he is surpassed by none. His books
for boys have gained for him an honoured jolace in parent's
hearts. Whilst satisfying the youthful longing for adventures
oey inspire admiration for straigiitforwardness, truth and
thurage, never exceed the bounds of veracity, and in many
ways are highly instructive. From the first word to the
last they are interesting — full of go, freshness and verve.
Mr. Henty, fortunately for his readers, had an extensive
personal experience of adventures and " moving accidents,
by flood and field," while acting as war correspondent.
He has a vivid and picturesque style of narrative, and we
have reason to say " Ihe Curse of Carne's Hold " is written
in his very best style.

No- 10 in Lovell's Canadian Copyright Series,

FOB, SALE AT ALL BOOKSTORES.
PRICE 30 CENTS.

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JUST PUBLISHED.

JEZEBEL'S FRIENDS.

By DORA RUSSELL,

AUTHOR OF

^* Footprints in the Snoxu,^^ ^*The Track of the Storm, ^^ Elc.

Ill " Jezebel's Friends " — we have presented to us a
fresh and vivid picture of modern life. The opening chap-
ters introduce to us a couple of sisters, both attractive and
winsome — but both in deep trouble. What that trouble is
the Reader will burn to discover. The first scene in this
clever and thrilling Novel finds us on the sea drenched
sands, watching the struggles of a woman in the teeth of a
hurricane and storm of lightning and rain, to find a spot
near the waves, where she may bury beyond the ken of her
kind sometning cancealed in a long narrow box. The
darkness aids her, but her presence is revealed by the
lightning to a watcher on the cliffs — the one person above
all others whom she wished to avoid. He sets himself to
fathom her secret, with what success the fuller develop-
ments of the plot must reveal. Suffice it to say that from
the very first chapter the Reader's interest is enlisted, his
sympathies aroused, and his curiosity keenly excited.

tbe