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 MY YOUNG ALCIDES.
 
 MY YOUNG ALCIDES 
 
 A FADED PHOTOGRAPH 
 
 CHARLOTTE M.'^ YONGE 
 
 Author of "The Heir of Redclyffe" &c. 
 
 Young Hercules. — From a Gem 
 
 VOL. I. — Second Edition 
 
 Eoution 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 1875 
 
 [All Bights Reserved. ]
 
 v.l
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Ideas have a tyrannous power of insisting on 
 being worked out, even when one fears they may 
 be leading in a track already worthily pre-occupied. 
 
 But the Hercules myth did not seem to me 
 to be like one of the fairy tales that we have seen 
 so gracefully and quaintly modernised ; and at 
 the risk of seeming to travestie the Farnese statue 
 in a shooting-coat and wide-awake, I could not 
 help going on, as the notion grew deeper and 
 jnore engrossing. 
 
 For, whether the origin of the myth be, or be 
 not, founded on solar phenomena, the yearning 
 Greek mind formed on it an unconscious allegor}'' 
 of the course of the Victor, of whom the Sun, 
 rejoicing as a giant to run his course, is another 
 type, like Samson of old, since the facts of nature 
 and of history are Divine parables. 
 
 And as each one's conquest is, in the track of 
 his Leader, the only true Conqueror, so Hercules, 
 in spite of all the grotesque adjuncts that the lower 
 inventions of the heathen hung round him, is a 
 far closer likeness of manhood — as, indeed, the pro- 
 verbial use of some of his tasks testifies — and of 
 repentant man conquering himself. The great crime, 
 
 VOL. I. A
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 after which his Hfe was a bondage of expiation ; 
 the choice between Virtue and Vice ; the slain 
 passion ; the hundred-headed sin for ever cropping 
 up again ; the winning of the sacred emblem of 
 purity ;— then the subduing of greed ; the cleansing 
 of long-negleted uncleanness ; the silencing of foul 
 tongues ; the remarkable contest with the creature 
 which had become a foe, because, after being de- 
 voted for sacrifice, it Avas spared ; the obtaining 
 the girdle of strength ; the recovery of the spoil 
 from the three-fold enemy ; the gaining of the 
 fruit of life ; immediately followed by the victory 
 over the hell-hound of death ; and lastly, the at- 
 tainment of immortality — all seem no fortuitous 
 imagination, but one of those when "thoughts be- 
 yond their thoughts to those old bards were given." 
 I have not followed all these meanings, for this 
 is not an allegory, but a mere distant following 
 rather of the spirit than the letter of the old Greek 
 tale of the Twelve Tasks. Neither have I adhered 
 to every incident of Hercules' life; and the most 
 touching and beautiful of all — the rescue of Alcestis,. 
 would hardly bear to come in merely as an episode, 
 in this weak and presumptuous endeavour to show 
 that the half-divine, patient conqueror is not merely 
 a classic invention, but that he and his labours 
 belong in some form or other to all times and all 
 
 surroundings. 
 
 C. M. YONGE. 
 
 Nm;. 8, 1S75..
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 FACE 
 
 The Arghouse Inheritanxe i 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 The Liox of Neme Heath 65 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 The "Dragon's Head" 119 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 The Wrath of Diana 144
 
 viii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Capture in the Sxow 172 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Ogden's Buildings 205 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The Birds of III Omen 2^1
 
 MY YOUNG ALCIDES 
 
 A FADED PHOTOGRAPH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 
 
 One of the children brought me a photograph 
 album, long ago finished and closed, and showed 
 me a faded and blurred figure over which there 
 had been a little dispute. Was it Hercules with 
 club and lion-skin, or was it a gentleman I had 
 known ? 
 
 Ah me ! how soon a man's place knoweth him 
 no more ! What fresh recollections that majestic 
 form awoke in me — the massive features, with the 
 steadfast eye, and low, square brow, curled over with 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
 f^
 
 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 short rings of hair ; the mouth, that, through the 
 thick, short beard, still invited trust and reliance, 
 even while there was a look of fire and determina- 
 tion that inspired dread. 
 
 The thing seemed to us hideous and absurd 
 when it was taken by Miss Horsman. I hated it, 
 and hid it away as a caricature. But now those 
 pale, vanishing tints bring the very presence 
 before me ; and before the remembrance can 
 become equally obscure in my owni mind, let me 
 record for others the years that I spent M"ith my 
 young Alcides as he now stands before me in 
 memory. 
 
 Our family history is a strange one. I, Lucy 
 Alison, never even saw my twin brothers — nor, 
 indeed, knew of their existence — during my child- 
 hood. I had one brother a year younger than 
 myself, and as long as he lived he was treated as 
 the eldest son, and neither he nor I ever dreamed 
 that mv father had had a first wife and two sons. 
 He was a feeble, broken man, who seemed to my 
 young fancy so old that in after times it was 
 always a shock to me to read on his tablet,
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 3 
 
 " Percy Alison, aged fifty-seven ; " and I was 
 but seven years old when he died under the final 
 blow of the loss of my little brother Percy from 
 measles. 
 
 The dear old place — a house with five gables 
 on the garden front, black timbered, and with 
 white plaster between, and oh ! such flowers in the 
 garden — was left to my mother for her life ; and 
 she was a great deal younger than my father, so 
 we went on living there, and it was only when I 
 was almost a woman that I came to the knowledge 
 that the property would never be mine, but would 
 go in the male line to the son of one of my dis- 
 inherited convict brothers. 
 
 The story, as my mother knew it, was this : 
 Their names were Ambrose and Eustace ; there 
 was very little interval between their births, and 
 there had been some confusion between them 
 during the first few hours of their lives, so that 
 the question of seniority was never entirely clear, 
 though Ambrose was so completely the leader 
 and master that he was always looked upon as 
 the elder. 
 
 B 2
 
 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 In their early youth they were led away by a 
 man of Polish extraction, though a British sub- 
 ject, one Count Prometesky, who had thrown 
 himself into every revolutionary movement on the 
 Continent, had fought under Kosciusko in Poland, 
 joined the Carbonari in Italy, and at last escaped, 
 with health damaged by a wound, to teach lan- 
 guages and military drawing in England, and, 
 unhappily, to spread his principles among his 
 pupils, during the excitement connected with 
 the Reform Bill. Under his teaching my poor 
 brothers became such democrats that they 
 actually married the two daughters of a man 
 from Cumberland named Lewthwayte, whom 
 Lord Erymanth had turned out of one of his 
 farms for his insolence and radicalism ; and not 
 long after they were engaged in the agricul- 
 tural riots, drilling the peasants, making in- 
 flammatory speeches, and doing all they could 
 to bring on a revolution. Dreadful harm was 
 done on the Erymanth estate, and the farm 
 from which Lewthwayte had been expelled suf- 
 fered especially, the whole of the ricks and
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 5 
 
 buildings being burnt down, though the family of 
 the occupant Avas saved, partly by Prometesky's 
 exertions. 
 
 When the troops came, both he and my 
 brothers were taken with arms in their hands ; 
 they were tried by the special commission and 
 sentenced to death. Lewthwayte and his son 
 were actually hung ; but there was great interest 
 made for Ambrose and Eustace, and in con- 
 sideration of their early youth (they were not 
 twenty-two) their sentence was commuted to trans- 
 portation for life, and so was Prometesky's, be- 
 cause he was half a foreigner, and because he 
 was proved to have saved life. 
 
 My father would not sec them again, but he 
 offered their wives a passage out to join them, 
 and Avanted to have had their two babies left 
 with him, but the two young women refused to 
 part with them ; and it was after that that he 
 married again, meaning to cast them off for ever, 
 though, as long as their time of servitude lasted, 
 he sent the wives an allowance, and as soon as 
 his sons could hold property, he gave them a
 
 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 handsome sum with which to set themselves up 
 in a large farm in the Bush. 
 
 And when little Percy died, he wanted again 
 to have his eldest grandson sent home to him, 
 and was very much wounded by the refusal which 
 came only just before his death. His will had 
 left the estate to the grandson, as the right heir. 
 Everyone looked on it as a bad prospect, but no 
 one thought of the " convict boy " as in the 
 immediate future, as my mother was still quite a 
 young woman. 
 
 But when I was just three-and-twenty, an 
 attack of diphtheria broke out ; my mother and 
 I both caught it ; and, alas ! I alone recovered. 
 The illness was very long with me, partly from 
 my desolateness and grief, for, tender as my kind 
 old servants were, and good as were my friends 
 and neighbours, they could only make me feel 
 what they were not. 
 
 Our old lawyer, Mr. Prosser, had written to 
 my nephew, for we knew that both the poor 
 brothers were dead ; but he assured me that I 
 might safely stay on at the old place, for it
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 7 
 
 would be eight months before his letter could be 
 answered, and the heir could not come for a long 
 time after. 
 
 I was very glad to linger on, for I clung to 
 the home, and looked at every bush and flower, 
 blossoming for the last time, almost as if I were 
 dying, and leaving them to a sort of fiend. 
 My mother's old friends. Lady Diana Tracy and 
 Lord Erymanth, her brother, used to bemoan 
 with me the coming of this lad, born of a plebeian 
 mother, bred up in a penal colony, and, no doubt, 
 uneducated except in its coarsest vices. Lord 
 Erymanth told at endless length all the advice 
 he had given my father in vain, and bewailed the 
 sense of justice that had bequeathed the property 
 to such a male heir as could not fail to be a 
 scourge to the country. Everyone had some 
 story to tell of Ambrose's fiery speeches and 
 insubordinate actions, viewing Eustace as not so 
 bad because his mere satellite — and what must 
 not their sons be 'i 
 
 The only person who had any feeling of pity 
 or affection for them was old Miss Woolmer.
 
 8 J/y YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 She was the daughter of a former clergyman of 
 Myccning, the little town which is almost at our 
 park-gates. She was always confined to the 
 house by rheumatic-gout. She had grown up 
 with my brothers. I sometimes wondered if she 
 had not had a little tenderness for one of them, 
 but I believe it was almost elder-sisterly. She 
 told me much in their excuse. My father had 
 never been the fond, indulgent father to them that 
 I remembered him, but a strict, stern authority 
 when he was at home, and when he was absent 
 leaving them far too much to their own devices ; 
 while Prometesky was a very attractive person, 
 brilliant, accomplished, full of fire and of faith 
 in his theories of universal benevolence and 
 emancipation. 
 
 She thought, if the times had not been such as 
 to bring them into action, Ambrose would have 
 outgrown and modified all that was dangerous in 
 his theories, and that they would have remained 
 mere talk, the ebullition of his form of knicht- 
 errantry ; for it was generous indignation and 
 ardour that chiefly led him astray, and Eustace
 
 THE ARG HOUSE INHERITANCE. g 
 
 was always his double : but there were some inci- 
 dents at the time which roused him to fury. 
 Lewthwavte was a Cumberland man, who had 
 inherited the stock and the last years of a lease 
 of a farm on Lord Erymanth's property ; he had 
 done a good deal for it, and expended money on 
 the understanding that he should have the lease 
 renewed, but he was a man of bold, independent 
 northern tongue, and gave great offence to his 
 lordship, Avho was used to be listened to with a 
 sort of feudal deference. He was of the fierce 
 old Norse blood, and his daughters were tall, fair, 
 magnificent young women, not at all uneducated 
 nor vulgar, and it was the finding that my brothers 
 were becoming intimate at his farm that made 
 Lord Erymanth refuse to renew the lease and turn 
 the family out so harshly, and with as little notice 
 as possible. 
 
 The cruelty, as they thought it, was, Miss 
 Woolmer said, most ill-judged, and precipitated 
 the very thing that was dreaded. The youths 
 rushed into the marriage with the daughters, and 
 cast in their lot with all that could overturn the
 
 lo AfV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 existing order of things, but Miss Woolmer did 
 not believe they had had anything to do with the 
 rick-burning or machine-)Dreaking. All that was 
 taken out of their hands by more brutal, ignorant 
 demagogues. They were mere visionaries and 
 enthusiasts according to her, and she said the two 
 wives were very noble-looking, high-spirited young 
 women. She had gone to see them several 
 times when their husbands were in prison, and 
 had been much struck with x^lice, Ambrose's wife, 
 who held up most bravely ; though Dorothy, poor 
 thing, was prostrated, and indeed her child was 
 born in the height of the distress, when his father 
 had just been tried for his life, and sentenced to 
 death. 
 
 It was their birth and education that caused 
 them to be treated so severely ; besides, there was 
 no doubt of their having harangued the people, 
 and stirred them up, and they were seen, as well 
 as Prometesky, at the fire at what had been 
 Lewthwayte's farm ; at least, so it was declared 
 by men who turned King's evidence, and the proof 
 to the contrary broke down, because it depended
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. ii 
 
 on the wives, whose evidence was not admissible ; 
 indeed that — as the law then stood — was not the 
 question. Those who had raised the storm were 
 responsible^^for all that was done in it, and it was 
 very barely that their lives were spared. 
 
 That was the comfort Miss Woolmer gave. 
 No one else could see any at all, except a few 
 old women in the parish, who spoke tenderly of 
 poor Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Eustace ; but then 
 they had sons or brothers who had been out with 
 the rioters, and after these twenty-six years no 
 one remembered the outrages and terrors of the 
 time with anything but horror ; and the coming 
 of the wild lad from the Bush was looked on 
 as the end of all comfort. 
 
 I meant, as soon as I heard he was on the 
 way, to leave Arghouse, make visits among 
 friends, and decide on my future home, for, alas ! 
 there was no one who wanted me. I was quite 
 alone in the world ; my mother's cousins were 
 not near, and I hardly knew them ; and my only 
 relations were the bushrangers, as Lady Diana 
 Tracy called them.
 
 12 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 She was sister to Lord Erymanth, and widow 
 to an Irish gentleman, and had settled in the 
 next parish to us, with her children, on the 
 death of her husband. 
 
 Her little daughter, Viola, had been spending 
 the day with me, and it was a lovely spring 
 evening, when we sat on the lawn, wondering 
 whether I should ever care for anything so much 
 as for those long shadows from the fir woods 
 upon the sloping field, with the long grass rip- 
 pling in the wind, and the border of primroses 
 round the edge of the wood. 
 
 We heard wheels and thought it was the car- 
 riage come for Viola, much too soon, when out 
 ran one of the maids, crying, " Oh ! Miss Alison, 
 he is come. There's ever so many of them ! " 
 
 I believe we caught hold of one another in 
 our fright, and were almost surprised when, out- 
 stripping lame old Richardson, as he announced 
 " Mr. Alison ! " there came only three persons. 
 They were the two tallest men I had ever seen, 
 and a little girl of eight years old. I found my 
 hand in a very large one, and with the words
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 13 
 
 " Are you my 'aunt Lucy ? " I was, as it were, 
 gathered up and kissed. The voice, somehow, 
 carried a comfortable feehng in the kindness of 
 its power and depth ; and though it was a mouth 
 bristly with yellow bristles, such as had never 
 touched me before, the honest friendly eyes gave 
 me an indescribable feeling of belonging to some- 
 body, and of having ceased to be alone in the 
 world, 
 
 " Here is Eustace," he said, " and little Dora," 
 putting the child forward as she backed against 
 him, most unwilling to let me kiss her. "And, 
 I did not know I had another aunt." 
 
 " No," I said, starting between, for what would 
 Lady Diana's feelings have been if Viola had 
 carried home an Australian kiss } " This is Miss 
 Tracy." 
 
 Viola's carriage was now actually coming, and 
 as I went into the house with her, she held me, 
 whispering to me to come home at once with her, 
 but I told her I could not leave them in that way 
 and they were really my nephews. 
 
 "You are not afraid ?" she said.
 
 14 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 "What do you think he could do to me?" I 
 asked, laughing. 
 
 " He is so big," said Viola. " I never saw any 
 one so big, but I think he is like Coeur de Lion. 
 Ah ! " We both shrieked, for a most uncanny 
 monster was rearing up in front of us, hopping 
 about the hall, as far as was allowed by the chain 
 that fastened it to the leg of a table. 
 
 " Mr. Alison brought it, ma'am," said Richard- 
 son, in a tone of disgust and horror. "Will you 
 have the carriage out, Miss Alison, and go down 
 to the Wyvern ? Shuh ! you brute ! He shan't 
 hurt you, my dear ladies. I'll stand between." 
 
 We had recovered our senses, however, enough 
 to see that it was only a harmless kangaroo ; 
 and Dora came running out, followed by Harold, 
 caressing the beast, calling it poor Nanny, and 
 asking where he should shut it up for the 
 night. 
 
 I suggested an outhouse, and we conducted 
 the creature thither in procession, hearing by 
 the way that the kangaroo's mother had been 
 shot, and that the animal itself, then very young.
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 15 
 
 and no bigger than a cat, had taken Harold's 
 open shirt front for her pouch and leaped into his 
 bosom, and that it had been brought up to its 
 present stature tame at Boola Boola. Viola went 
 with us, fed the kangaroo, and was so much in- 
 terested and delighted, that she could hardly go 
 away, Eustace making her a most elaborate and 
 rather absurd bow, being evidently much im- 
 pressed by the carriage and liveried servants 
 who were waiting for her. 
 
 " Like the Governor's lady ! " he said. " And 
 I know, for I've been to a ball at Government 
 House." 
 
 He plainly cared much more for appearances 
 than did Harold. He was not so tall, much 
 slighter, with darker hair, rather too shiny, and 
 a neatly turned up moustache, a gorgeous tie 
 and watch chain, a brilliant breast pin, a more 
 brilliant ring, and a general air that made me 
 conclude that he regarded himself as a Sydney 
 beau. But Harold, in his loose, rough grey suit, 
 was very different. His height was extraordinary, 
 his breadth of chest and shoulder equally gigantic.
 
 1 6 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 though well proportioned, and with a look of 
 easy strength, and, as Viola had said, his head 
 was very much what one knows as the Lion 
 Heart's, not Marochetti's trim carpet knight, 
 but Vertue's rugged portrait from the monument 
 at Fontevraud. There was the same massive 
 breadth of feature, large yet not heavy, being 
 relieved by the exceeding keenness and quick- 
 ness of the light but very blue eyes, which 
 seemed to see eveiywhere round in a moment, 
 as men do in wild countries. The short thick 
 yellow curly beard and moustache veiled the lower 
 part of the face ; but the general expression, when 
 still, was decidedly a sad one, though a word 
 or a trick of Dora's would call up a smile all 
 over the browned cheeks and bright eyes. His 
 form and colouring must have come from the 
 Cumberland statesman, but people said his voice 
 and expression had much of his father in them ; 
 and no one could think him ungentlemanly, 
 though he was not like any English gentleman. 
 He wore no gaieties like Eustace, the hand- 
 kerchief loosely knotted round his neck sailor
 
 THE AR GROUSE INHERITANCE. 17 
 
 fashion was plain black, and he had a gold 
 ring on his little finger. 
 
 Dora had the same yellow curly hair, in tight, 
 frizzly rings all over her head, like a boy's, a 
 light complexion, and blue eyes, in a round, 
 pug-nosed face ; and she hung so entirely on 
 Harold that I never doubted that she was his 
 sister till, as we were sitting down to eat, I 
 said, " Can't you come a little way from your 
 brother?" 
 
 Eustace gave his odd little giggle, and said, 
 " There, Dora ! '' 
 
 " I'm not his sister — I'm his wife ! " 
 
 " There ! " and Eustace giggled again and 
 ordered her away ; but I saw Harold's brow knit 
 with pain, and as she began to reiterate her asser- 
 tion and resist Eustace, he gently sat her down 
 on the chair near at hand, and silently made her 
 understand that she was to stay there ; but Eustace 
 rather teasingly said : 
 
 ^' Aunt Lucy will teach you manners, Dora. 
 She is my sister, and Ave have brought her home 
 to send her to school." 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 1 8 AfV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 " I won't go to school," said Dora ; " Harold 
 would not/' 
 
 " You won't get away like him," returned 
 Eustace, in the same tone. 
 
 " Yes, I shall. I'll lick all the girls," she re- 
 turned, clenching a pair of red mottled fists that 
 looked very capable. 
 
 " For shame, Dora ! " said the low voice. 
 
 " Harold did," said she, looking up at me 
 triumphantly ; " he beat all the boys, and had to 
 come back again to Boola Boola." 
 
 I longed to understand more, but I was 
 ashamed to betray my ignorance of my near 
 relations, for I did not even know whether 
 their mothers were alive ; but I saw that 
 if I only listened, Eustace would soon tell 
 everything. He had a runaway chin, and his 
 mouth had a look at times that made me doubt 
 whether there were not some slight want in 
 his intellect, or at least weakness of character. 
 However, I was relieved from the fear of the 
 vice with which the neighbourhood had threat- 
 ened us, for neither of them would touch wine
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 19 
 
 or beer, but begged for tea, and drank oceans 
 of it. 
 
 We had not long finished, when Richardson 
 brought me a note from Lady Diana Tracy, say- 
 ing she had sent the carriage for me that I might 
 at once take refuge from this unforeseen invasion. 
 
 I felt it out of all possibility that I should 
 thus run away, and yet I knew I owed an apo- 
 logy for Harold's finding me and the old servants 
 in possession, so I began to say that my old friend 
 had sent the carriage for me. — I had been taken 
 by surprise, their journey (one of the first across 
 the Isthmus) had been so much quicker than I 
 had expected, or I should have left the house free 
 for them. 
 
 "Why.-*" asked Harold. And when I an- 
 swered that the place was his and I had no 
 business there, he did not seem to see it. " It 
 is your home,'' he said ; " you have always 
 lived here." 
 
 I began explaining that this was no reason 
 
 at all ; but he would not hear of my going away, 
 
 and declared that it Avas I who belonged to 
 
 c 2
 
 20 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 the place, so that I confessed that I should be 
 very thankful to stay a little while. 
 
 " Not only a little while/^ he said ; " it is 
 your home as much as ever, and the best thing 
 in the world for us/^ 
 
 " Yes, yes,'^ responded Eustace ; " we kept 
 on wondering what Aunt Lucy would be like, 
 and never thought she could be such a nice 
 young lady/^ 
 
 " Not realising that your aunt is younger 
 than yourselves,'^ I said. 
 
 " No," said Eustace, " the old folk never 
 would talk of home — my father did not like it, 
 you see — and Aunt Alice had moved off to New 
 Zealand, so that we could not go and talk about 
 it to her. Mr. Smith has got a school in Auck- 
 land, you know." 
 
 I did not know, but I found that a year or 
 two after the death of my brother Ambrose, his 
 widow had become the second wife of the master 
 of a boarding-school at Sydney, and that it was 
 there that Harold, at ten years old, had fought all 
 the boys, including the step-children, and had
 
 THE A RG HO USE INHERITANCE. 21 
 
 been so audacious and uncontrollable, that she 
 had been forced to return him to his uncle and 
 aunt in the " Bush." Eustace had been with the 
 Smiths at Sydney until her move to Auckland, 
 he had even been presented, and had been to a 
 ball at Government House, and thus was viewed 
 as the polished member of the family, though, if 
 he had come as master, I should never have been 
 drawn, as I -was by Harold's free, kindly sim- 
 plicity, into writing my thanks to Lady Diana, 
 and saying that I could not leave my nephews 
 so abruptly, especially as they had brought a little 
 sister. 
 
 It was gratifying to see that Harold was 
 uneasy till the note was sent off and the car- 
 riage dismissed. "You are not going.''" he said, 
 as persuasively as if he were speaking to Dora, 
 and I strove to make a wise and prudent answer, 
 about remaining for the next few days, and 
 settling the rest when he had made his plans. 
 
 Then I proposed to take Dora up to bed, but 
 though manifestly very weary, the child refused, 
 and when her brother tried to order her, she ran
 
 22 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 between Harold's knees, and there tossed her 
 
 head and glared at me. He lifted her on his 
 
 lap, and she drew his arm round her in defence. 
 
 Eustace said he spoilt her, but he still held her, 
 
 and, as she dropped asleep against his breast, 
 
 Eustace related, almost in a tone of complaint, 
 
 that she had cared for no one else ever since the 
 
 time she had been lost in the Bush, and Harold 
 
 had found her, after three days, in the last stage 
 
 of exhaustion, since which time she had had 
 
 neither eyes, ears, nor allegiance for any other 
 
 creature, but that she must be taught something, 
 
 and made into a lady. 
 
 Harold gazed down on her with his strange, 
 soft, melancholy smile, somehow seeming to vex 
 Eustace, who accused him of not caring how 
 rough and uncultivated she was, nor himself 
 either. 
 
 "We leave the polish to you," said Harold. 
 " Why, yes," said Eustace, simpering, " my 
 uncle Smith gave me the first advantages in 
 Sydney, and everyone knew my father was ' a 
 gentleman.' "
 
 7 HE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 23 
 
 Harold bit the hair that hung over his hp, 
 and I guessed, what I afterwards found to be 
 the truth, that his stepfather was no small trial 
 to him ; being, in fact, an unprosperous tutor and 
 hanger-on on some nobleman's family, finally sent 
 out by his patrons in despair, to keep school in 
 Sydney. 
 
 Poor Ambrose had died of lock-jaw from 
 a cut from an axe very soon after his eman- 
 cipation, just as his energy was getting the farm 
 into order, and making things look well with the 
 family, and, after a year or two, Alice, deceived 
 by the man's air and manners, and hoping to 
 secure education for her son, had married, and 
 the effect had been that, while Harold was pro- 
 voked into fierce insubordination, Eustace became 
 imbued with a tuft-hunting spirit, a great con- 
 trast to what might have been expected from 
 his antecedents. 
 
 I cannot tell whether I found this out the first 
 evening, or only gradually discovered it, with much 
 besides. I only remember that when at last 
 Harold carried Dora upstairs fast asleep, and my
 
 24 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 maid Colman and I had undressed her and put 
 her into a little bed in a room opening out of 
 mine, I went to rest, feeling rejoiced that the 
 suspense was over and I knew the worst. I felt 
 rather as if I had a magnificent wild beast in the 
 house ; and yet there was a wonderful attraction, 
 partly from the drawing of kindred blood, and 
 partly from the strength and sweetness of Harold's 
 own face, and, aunt like, I could not help feeling 
 proud of having such a grand creature belonging 
 to me, though there might be a little dread of 
 what he would do next. 
 
 In the morning all seemed like a dream, for 
 Dora had vanished, leaving no trace but her 
 black bag ; but while I was dressing a tremen- 
 dous cackling among my bantams caused me to 
 look out, when I beheld them scurrying right and 
 left at sight of the kangaroo leaping after the 
 three strangers, and my cat on the top of the 
 garden wall on tiptoe, with arched back, bristling 
 tail, and glassy eyes, viewing the beast as the 
 vengeful apotheosis of all the rats and mice she 
 had slaughtered in her time.
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 25 
 
 From the stairs I heard Dora scouting her 
 brother's orders to tidy herself for breakfast, 
 adding that Harry never did, to which he merely 
 replied, " I shall now. Come." 
 
 There was a sound of hoisting, that gave mc 
 warning rather fortunately, for he came striding 
 upstairs with that great well-grown girl of eight 
 perched on his shoulder as if she had been a 
 baby, and would have run me down if I had 
 not avoided into the nook on the landing. 
 
 All that day and the next those three were 
 out ; I never saw them but at meals, when they 
 came in full of eager questions and comments 
 on their discoveries in farming and other matters. 
 These were the early bright days of spring, 
 and they were out till after dark, only returning 
 to eat and go to bed. I found the fascination 
 of Harold's presence was on all the servants and 
 dependents, except perhaps our bailiff Bullock 
 who disliked him from the first. All the others 
 declared that they had no doubt about staying 
 on, now that they saw what the young squire 
 really was. It made a great impression on them
 
 26 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 that, when in some farmyard arrangements there 
 was a moment's danger of a faggot pile falHng, 
 he put his shoulder against it and propped the 
 whole weight without effort. His manhood, 
 strength, and knowledge of work delighted them, 
 and they declared already that he would be a 
 good friend to the poor. 
 
 I confess that here lay what alarmed me. He 
 was always given to few words, but I could see 
 that he was shocked at the contrast between our 
 poor and the Australian settlers, where food and 
 space were plenty and the wages high. I was 
 somewhat hurt at his way of viewing what had 
 always seemed to me perfection, at least all that 
 could be reasonably expected for the poor — our 
 pet school, our old women, our civil dependents 
 in tidy cottages, our picturesque lodges ; and I 
 did not half like his trenchant questions, which 
 seemed to imply censure on all that I had hitherto 
 thought unquestionable, and perhaps I told him 
 somewhat impatiently that, when he had been a 
 little longer here, he would understand our ways 
 and fall naturally into them.
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 27 
 
 '' That's just what I don't want," he said. 
 
 " Not want ? " I exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes ; I want to see clearly before I get used 
 to things." 
 
 And as, perhaps, I seemed to wonder at this 
 way of beginning, he opened a little, and said, 
 "It is my father. He told me that if ever I 
 came here I was to mind and do his work." 
 
 " What kind of work .? " I asked, anxiously. 
 
 " Doing what he meant to have done," returned 
 Harold, "for the poor. He said I should find 
 out about it." 
 
 " You must have been too young to understand 
 much of v/hat he meant then," I said. " Did he 
 not regret anything ? " 
 
 "Yes, he said he had begun at the wrong 
 end, when they were not ripe for it, and that the 
 failure had ruined him for trying again." 
 
 " Then he did see things differently at last .'' " 
 I said, hoping to find that the sentiments I had 
 always heard condemned had not been per- 
 petuated. 
 
 "Oh yes!" cried Eustace. "They were just
 
 28 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 brutes, you know, that nobody could do any good 
 to_, and were only bent on destroying, and had 
 no gratitude nor sense ; and that was the ruin 
 of him and of my father too." 
 
 " They were ignorant, and easily maddened," 
 said Harold, gravely. " He did not know how 
 little they could be controlled. I must find out 
 the true state of things. Prometesky said I 
 must read it up." 
 
 " Prometesky!" I cried in despair. "Oh, Harold, 
 you have not been influenced by that old fire- 
 brand } " 
 
 " He taught me almost all I know," was the 
 answer, still much to my dismay ; but I showed 
 Harold to the library, and directed him to some 
 old books of my father's, which I fancied might 
 enlighten him on the subjects on which he needed 
 information, though I feared they might be rather 
 out of date ; and whenever he was not out of 
 doors, he was reading them, sometimes running his 
 fingers through his yellow hair, or pulling his beard, 
 and growling to himself when he was puzzled 
 or met with what he did not like. Eustace's
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 29 
 
 favourite study, meanwhile, was " Burke's Peerage," 
 and his questions nearly drove me wild by their 
 absurdity ; and Dora rolled on the floor with my 
 Spitz dog, for she loathed the doll I gave her, 
 and made me more afraid of her than of either 
 of the others. 
 
 Harold was all might and gentleness ; Eustace 
 viewed me as a glass of fashion and directory of 
 English life and manners ; but I saw they both 
 looked to me not only to make their home, but 
 to tame their little wild cat of a child ; and that 
 was enough to make her hate and distrust me. 
 Moreover, she had a gleam of jealousy not far 
 from fierce in her wild blue eyes if she saw 
 Harold turn affectionately to me, and she always 
 protested sullenly against the " next week," w^ien 
 I was to begin her education. 
 
 She could only read words of four letters, 
 and could not, or would not, work a stitch. 
 Harold had done all her mending. On the 
 second day I passed by the open door of his 
 room, and saw him at woxV. on a great rect- 
 angular rent in her frock. I could not help
 
 o 
 
 o MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 stopping to suggest that Colman or I might save 
 him that trouble, whereupon Dora slammed the 
 door in my face. 
 
 Harold opened it again at once, saying, "You 
 ought to beg Aunt Lucy's pardon ;" and when no 
 apology could be extracted from her, and with 
 thanks he handed over the little dress to me, she 
 gave a shriek of anger (she hardly ever shed 
 tears) and snatched it from me again. 
 
 "Well, well," said Harold, patting her curly 
 head ; " I'll finish this time, but not again, Dora. 
 Next time, Aunt Lucy will be so good as to see 
 to it. After old Betty's eyes grew bad we had 
 to do our own needling." 
 
 I confess it was a wonderful performance — 
 quite as neat as Colman could have made it ; 
 and I suspect that Harold did not refrain from 
 producing needle and thread from his fat mis- 
 cellaneous pocket-book, and repairing her many 
 disasters before they reached the domestic eye ; 
 for there was a chronic feud between Dora and 
 Colman, and the attempts of the latter to make 
 the child more like a young lady were passionately
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 
 
 repelled, though she would better endure those of 
 a rough little under-housemaid, whose civilisation 
 was, I suppose, not quite so far removed from 
 her own. 
 
 On Sunday, she and Harold disappeared as 
 soon as breakfast was over, and only Eustace 
 remained, spruce beyond all imagination, and 
 giving himself childlike credit for not being with 
 them ; but when at church I can't say much for 
 his behaviour. He stared unblushingly, whispered 
 remarks and inquiries, could not find the places 
 in his book, and appeared incapable of kneel- 
 ing. Our little church at Arghouse was then a 
 chapelry, with merely Sunday morning service 
 by a curate from Mycening, and the congregation 
 a village one, to the disgust of Eustace, who 
 had expected to review his neighbours, and 
 thought his get-up thrown away. 
 
 "No one at all to see," he observed with dis- 
 content over our luncheon, Harold and Dora 
 having returned from roaming over Kalydon Moor. 
 
 " I go to afternoon service at Mycening, 
 Harold," I said. "Will not you come with me ?"
 
 32 jWV young ALCIDES. 
 
 "There will be somebody there?" asked Eus- 
 tace ; to which I replied in the affirmative, but 
 with some protest against his view of the object, 
 and inviting the others again, but Dora defiantly 
 answered that Harold was going to swing her 
 on the ash tree. 
 
 " You ought to appear at church, Harry," 
 said Eustace. " It is expected of an English 
 squire. You see everybody, and everybody sees 
 you." 
 
 "Well, then, go," said Harold. 
 
 "And won't you .^" I entreated. 
 
 " I've promised to swing Dora," he answered, 
 strolling out of the room, much to my concern ; 
 and though Eustace did accompany me, it was 
 so evidently for the sake of staring that there 
 was little comfort in that ; and it was only by 
 very severe looks that I could keep him from 
 asking everyone's name. I hoped to make every 
 one understand that he was not the squire, 
 but no one came across us as we went out of 
 church, and I had to reply to his torrent of 
 inquiries all the way home.
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 
 
 It was a wet evening, and we all stayed in 
 the house. Harold brought in one of his poli- 
 tical economy studies from the library, and I 
 tried to wile Dora to look at the pictures in a 
 curious big old Dutch Scripture history, the 
 Sunday delight of our youth. 
 
 Eustace came too, as if he wanted the amuse- 
 ment and yet was ashamed to take it, when he 
 exclaimed, " I say, Harry ; isn't this the book 
 father used to tell us about — that they used to 
 look over?" 
 
 Harold came, and stood towering above us 
 with his hands in his pockets ; but when we 
 came to the Temptation of Eve, Dora broke out 
 into an exclamation that excited my curiosity too 
 much not to be pursued, though it was hardly 
 edifying. 
 
 "Was that such a snake as Harold killed?" 
 
 " I have killed a good many snakes," he 
 answered. 
 
 "Yes, but I meant the ones you killed when 
 you were a little tiny boy." 
 
 " I don't remember," he said, as if to stop 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 the subject, hating, as he ahvays did, to talk 
 about himself. 
 
 " No, I know you don't," said Dora ; " but 
 it is quite true, isn't it, Eustace?" 
 
 "Hardly true that Harold ever was a little 
 tiny boy," I could not help saying. 
 
 " No, he never was littlel^ said Eustace. 
 " But it is quite true about the snakes. I seem- 
 to remember it now, and I've often heard my 
 mother and my Aunt Alice tell of it. It was 
 at the first place where we were in New 
 South Wales. I came running out screaming, I 
 believe — I was old enough to know the danger 
 — and when they went in there was Harry 
 sitting on the floor, holding a snake tight by 
 the neck and enjoying its contortions like a new 
 toy." 
 
 " Of course," said Harold, " if it were poi- 
 sonous, which I doubt, the danger would have 
 been when I let go. My mother quietly bade 
 me hold him tight, which I suppose I had just 
 sense enough to do, and in another moment 
 she had snatched up the bill -hook they had
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 35 
 
 been cutting wood with, and had his head off. 
 She had the pluck." 
 
 I could but gasp with horror, and ask how 
 old he was. About two ! That was clear to 
 their minds from the place where it happened, 
 which Harold could not recollect, though Eustace 
 could. 
 
 " But, Harold, you surely are the eldest," I 
 said. 
 
 " Oh no ; I am six months the eldest," said 
 Eustace, proud of his advantage. 
 
 We were to hear more of that by-and-by. 
 
 Monday afternoon brought Mr. Prosser, who 
 was closeted with Harold, while Eustace and I 
 devoted our faculties to pacifying Dora under her 
 exclusion, and preventing her from climbing up 
 to the window-sill to gaze into the library from 
 without. She scorned submission to either of 
 us, so Eustace kept guard by lying on the 
 grass below, and I coaxed her by gathering 
 primroses, sowing seeds, and using all induce- 
 ments I could think of, but my resources were 
 nearly exhausted when Harold's head appeared 
 
 D 2
 
 J 
 
 6 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 at the window, and he called, " Eustace ! Lucy ! 
 here ! " 
 
 We came at once, Dora before us. 
 
 " Come in," said Harold, admitting us at the 
 glass door. " It is all a mistake. I am not the 
 man. It is Eustace. Eu, I wish you joy, old 
 chap " 
 
 Mr. Prosser was at the table with a great 
 will lying spread out on it. " I am afraid Mr. 
 Alison is right, Miss Alison," he said. , " The 
 property is bequeathed to the eldest of the 
 late Mr. Alison's grandsons born here, not speci- 
 fying by which father. If I had copied the terms 
 of the will I might have prevented disappoint- 
 ment, but I had no conception of what he tells 
 me." 
 
 " But Ambrose was Harold's father," I ex- 
 claimed in bewilderment, " and he was the eldest." 
 
 " The seniority was not considered as certain," 
 said Mr. Prosser, "and therefore the late Mr. 
 Alison left the property to the eldest child born 
 at home. ' Let us at least have an English-born 
 heir,' I remember he said to me."
 
 THE ARG HOUSE INHERITANCE. 37 
 
 "And that is just what I am not," said 
 Harold. 
 
 " I cannot understand ! I have heard Miss 
 Woolmer talk of poor Ambrose's beautiful child, 
 several months older than Eustace's, and his 
 name was Harold." 
 
 " Yes," said Harold, " but that one died on 
 the voyage out, an hour or two before I was 
 born. He was Harold Stanislas. I have no 
 second name." 
 
 " And I always was the eldest," reiterated 
 Eustace, hardly yet understanding what it in- 
 volved. 
 
 All the needful documents had been preserved 
 and brought home. There was the extract from 
 the captain's log recording the burial at sea of 
 Harold Stanislas Alison, aged fifteen months, and 
 the certificate of baptism by a colonial clergyman 
 of Harold, son of Ambrose and Alice Alison, while 
 Eustace was entered in the Northchester register, 
 having been born in lodgings, as Mr. Prosser well 
 recollected, while his poor young father lay under 
 sentence of death.
 
 38 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 It burst on him at last. "Do you mean 
 that I have got it, and not you ? " 
 
 " That's about it," said Harold. " Never mind, 
 Eu, it will all come to the same thing in the end." 
 
 " You have none of it t " 
 
 " Not an acre. It all goes together ; but don't 
 look at me in that way. There's Boola Boola, 
 you know." 
 
 "You're not going back there to leave me.?" 
 exclaimed Eustace, with a real sound of dismay, 
 laying hold of his arm. 
 
 "Not just yet, at any rate," said Harold. 
 
 " No, no ; nor at all," reiterated Eustace, 
 and then, satisfied by the absence of contra- 
 diction, which did, in fact, mean a good deal 
 from the silent Harold, he began to discover his 
 own accession of dignity. "Then it all belongs 
 to me. I am master. I am squire — Eustace 
 Alison, Esquire, of Arghouse. How well it 
 sounds. Doesn't it, Harry, doesn't it, Lucy? 
 Uncle Smith always said I was the one cut out 
 for high life. Besides, I've, been presented, and 
 have been to a ball at Government House."
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 39 
 
 I saw that Mr. Prosser was a little overcome 
 with amusement, and I wanted to make my 
 retreat and carry off Dora, but she had perched 
 on her favourite post — Harold's knee — and I 
 was also needed to witness Eustace's signatures, 
 as well as on some matters connected with my 
 own property. So I stayed, and saw that he did 
 indeed seem lost without his cousin's help. 
 Neither knew anything" about business of this 
 kind, but Harold readily understood what made 
 Eustace so confused, that he was quite helpless 
 without Harold's explanations, and rather rough 
 directions what he was to do. How like them- 
 selves their writing was ! Eustace's neat and 
 clerkly, but weak and illegible ; and Harold's as 
 distinct, and almost as large, as a schoolboy's 
 copy, but with square-turned joints and strength 
 -of limb unlike any boy's writing. 
 
 The dressing-bell broke up the council, and 
 Harold snatched up his hat to rush out and 
 stretch his legs, but I could not help detaining 
 him to say : 
 
 ■" Oh, Harry, I am so sorry ! "
 
 40 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 " Why ? " he said. 
 
 " What does it leave you, Harry ? " 
 
 " Half the capital stock farm, twelve thousand 
 sheep, and a tidy sum in the Sydney bank," 
 said Harold readily. 
 
 " Then I am afraid we shall lose you." 
 
 " That depends. I shall set Eustace in the 
 way of doing what our fathers meant ; and 
 there's Prometesky — I shall not go till I have 
 done his business." 
 
 I hardly knew what this meant, and could 
 not keep Harold, whose long legs were eager 
 for a rush in the fresh air ; and the next person 
 I met was Eustace. 
 
 " Aunt Lucy," he said, " that old fellow says 
 you are going away. You can't be ? " 
 
 I answered, truly enough, that I had not 
 thought what to do, and he persisted that I had 
 promised to stay. 
 
 " But that was with Harry," I said. 
 
 " I don't see why you should not stay as 
 much with me," he said. " I'm your nephew all 
 the same, and Dora is your niece ; and she must
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 41 
 
 be made a proper sister for me, who have 
 been, &c." 
 
 I don^t know that this form of invitation w^as 
 exactly the thing that would have kept me ; but 
 I had a general feeling that to leave these young 
 men and my old home would be utter banish- 
 ment, that there was nothing I so cared for as 
 seeing how they got on, and that it was worth 
 anything to me to be wanted anywhere and by 
 anyone ; so I gave Eustace to understand that 
 I meant to stay. I rather wished Harold to 
 have pressed me ; but I believe the dear good 
 fellow honestly thought everyone must prefer 
 Eustace to himself; and it was good to see the 
 pat he gave his cousin^s shoulder when that 
 young gentleman, nothing loath, exultingly settled 
 down in the master's place. 
 
 Before long I found out what Harold meant 
 about Prometesky's business ; for we had scarcely 
 begun dinner before he began to consult Mr. 
 Prosser about the ways and means of obtaining 
 a pardon for Prometesky. This considerably 
 startled Mr. Prosser. Some cabinets, he said,
 
 42 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 were very lenient to past political offences^ but 
 Prometesky seemed to him to have exceeded all 
 bounds of mercy. 
 
 " You never knew the true facts, then ? " said 
 Harold. 
 
 " I know the facts that satisfied the jury." 
 " You never saw my father's statement .'' " 
 No, Mr. Prosser had been elsewhere, and had 
 not been employed in my brother's trial ; he had 
 only inherited the connection with our family 
 affairs when the matter had passed into com- 
 parative oblivion. 
 
 My brothers had never ceased to affirm that 
 he had only started for the farm that had been 
 Lewthwayte's on hearing that an attack was to 
 be made on it, in hopes of preventing it, and 
 that the witness, borne against him on the trial 
 by a fellow who had turned king's evidence, had 
 been false ; but they had been unheeded, or 
 rather Prometesky was regarded as the most 
 truly mischievous of all, as perhaps he really had 
 been, since he had certainly drawn them into 
 the affair, and his life had barely been saved in
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 43 
 
 consideration of his having rescued a child from 
 the fire at great personal peril. 
 
 Ambrose had written again and again about 
 him to my father, but as soon as the name 
 occurred the letter had been torn up. On their 
 liberation from actual servitude they had sent up 
 their statement to the Government of New South 
 Wales ; but in the meantime Prometesky had 
 fared much worse than they had. They had 
 been placed in hands where their education, 
 superiority, and good conduct had gained them 
 trust and respect, and they had quickly obtained 
 a remission of the severer part of their sen- 
 tence and become their own masters ; indeed, if 
 Ambrose had lived, he would soon have risen 
 to eminence in the colony. But Prometesky had 
 fallen to the lot of a harsh, rude master, who 
 hated him as a foreigner, and treated him in a 
 manner that roused the proud spirit of the noble. 
 The master had sworn that the convict had 
 threatened his life, and years of working in 
 chains on the roads had been the consequence. 
 It was no time for entertaining a petition on
 
 44 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 his account, and before the expiration of this 
 additional sentence Ambrose was dead. 
 
 By that time Eustace, now a rich and prosper- 
 ous man, would gladly have taken his old tutor to 
 his home, but Prometesky was still too proud, and 
 all that he would do was to build a little hut 
 under a rock on the Boola Boola grounds, where 
 he lived upon the proceeds of such joiner's and 
 watchmaker's work as was needed by the settlers 
 on a large area, when things were much rougher 
 than even when my nephews came home. No 
 one cared for education enough to make his gifts 
 available in that direction, except as concerned 
 Harold, who had, in fact, learnt of him almost 
 all he knew in an irregular, voluntary sort of 
 fashion, and who loved him heartily. 
 
 His health was failing now, and to bring him 
 home was one of Harold's prime objects, since 
 London advice might yet restore him. Harold 
 had made one attempt in his cause at Sydney, 
 sending in a copy of his father's dying statement, 
 also signed by his uncle ; but though he was told 
 that it had been received, he had no encourage-
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 45 
 
 ment to hope it would be forwarded, and had 
 been told that to apply direct to the Secretary 
 of State, backed by persons from our own neigh- 
 bourhood, would be the best chance, and on this 
 he consulted Mr. Prosser, but without meeting 
 much sympathy. Mr. Prosser said many people's 
 minds had changed Avith regard to English or 
 Irish demagogues, and that the Alison Brothers 
 themselves might very probably have been par- 
 doned, but everyone was tired of Poles, and 
 popular tradition viewed Prometesky as the ogre 
 of the past. Mr. Prosser did not seem as if he 
 would even very willingly assist in the drawing 
 up in due form a petition in the Pole's favour, 
 and declared that without some influential person 
 to introduce it, it would be perfectly useless. 
 
 Eustace turned round with, "There, you see, 
 Harold, nothing can be done." 
 
 "I do not see that," said Harold, in his quiet 
 way. 
 
 " You do not mean to do anything } " 
 
 "Yes, I do." 
 
 " But what — what t What can you do ? "
 
 46 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 " I do not yet know." 
 
 " You see it is of no use. We shall only get into 
 a scrape with all the gentlemen of the county." 
 
 " Never mind now, Eustace," said Harold, 
 briefly. But I knew the expression of his face 
 by this time quite well enough to be certain 
 that nothing would make him abandon the cause 
 of his father's old friend ; and that his silence 
 was full of the strongest determination. I think 
 it fascinated me, and though in my cooler senses 
 I reverted to my old notion of Prometesky as 
 a dangerous firebrand, I could not help feeling 
 for and with the youth whose soul was set on 
 delivering his friend from exile. 
 
 My turn came the next morning, before Mr. 
 Prosser went away. He had much to say against 
 my making Arghouse my home, telling me that 
 I had a full independence and could live where 
 I pleased ; but that I knew already, and had 
 decided on the amount I ought to pay towards 
 the housekeeping. 
 
 Then he wanted me to understand how the 
 young men were looked upon, and the dread
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 47 
 
 all the neighbourhood had of them. I said I 
 had shared this dread, but on better acquaintance 
 I found it quite undeserved, and this being the 
 case it was incumbent on their only relation to 
 stand by them, and not shun them as if they 
 had brought the leprosy. 
 
 This he allowed, calling it a generous feeling, 
 if they were worthy of it. But what greatly 
 amazed me was his rejoicing that Eustace had 
 proved to be the heir, since nothing was known 
 against him, and when the other young man 
 was gone there was hope that any little distrusts 
 might be allayed, and that he might ultimately 
 take his place in the county. 
 
 The other young man ! Why should there be 
 any distrust of Harold .'* I grew hot and indig- 
 nant, and insisted on knowing what was meant ; 
 but Mr. Prosser declared that he knew nothing, 
 only there were vague reports which made him 
 rejoice that Mr. Harold Alison was not called to 
 be the manager of the property, and would make 
 him question whether a young lady Avould find it 
 expedient to be long an inmate of the same house.
 
 48 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 What reports could he mean ? No — I could 
 get no more out of him ; he was too cautious 
 to commit himself, and seemed to be satisfied by- 
 observing that if I changed my mind, I could at 
 any time leave my nephews. 
 
 " Her nephews,^' I heard him mutter to him- 
 self; "yes, her nephews. No one has any right 
 to object, and she can but judge for herself — 
 there's no harm done.'' 
 
 I shall always believe, however, that he set 
 on my friends to remonstrate, for letters began 
 coming in, in all the senses of the imperative 
 mood, commanding and entreating me to leave 
 Arghouse. There was one such as only Lord 
 Erymanth could write. He was an old man, 
 and never could make short work of anything. 
 They say that his chief political value was to 
 be set on when anyone was wanted to speak 
 against time. I know he was very dreadful at 
 all the platforms in the county ; but he was very- 
 good and conscientious, and everyone looked up 
 to him as a sort of father of the country. 
 
 But oh ! that letter ! Such a battery of heavy
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 49 
 
 arguments against my unprecedented step in 
 taking up my residence with these unfortunate 
 young men, who, though they had not themselves 
 openly transgressed the law of the land, yet were 
 the offspring of unhallowed unions with the 
 children of a felon. I cannot go through it all, but 
 it hinted that besides their origin, there was some 
 terrible stain on Harold, and that society could 
 not admit them ; so that if I persisted in casting in 
 my lot with them, I should share the ban. In- 
 deed, he would have thought my own good sense 
 and love of decorum would have taught me that 
 the abode of two such youths would be no fit 
 place for the daughter of such respected parents, 
 and there was a good deal more that I could not 
 understand about interceding with his sister, and 
 her overlooking my offence in consideration of my 
 inexperience and impulsiveness. 
 
 On my first impulse I Avrote to thank my old 
 friend, but to say I could see no harm in an aunt's 
 being with her nephews, and that I was sure he 
 had only to know them to lay aside all doubts of 
 their being thorough gentlemen and associates for 
 
 VOL, I. E
 
 50 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 anybody. My little niece required my care, and I 
 should stay and give it to her till some other 
 arrangement was made. If Lady Diana were dis- 
 pleased with me, I was very sorry, but I could see 
 no reason for it. 
 
 When I looked over the old EarFs letter, before 
 closing mine, some expressions wound out of the 
 mist that made me uncomfortable, especially 
 when I recollected that, though it was a week 
 since their arrival, no one had attempted to 
 call but Mr. Crosse, the vicar of Mycening, a 
 very "good man in the pulpit," as the servants 
 said, and active in the parish, but underbred and 
 no companion. 
 
 Our neighbourhood was what is called very 
 clannish. There were two families, the Horsmans 
 and the Stympsons, who seemed to make up all 
 the society. The sons either had the good livings, 
 ., or had retired from their professions into cottages 
 round and about, and the first question after any 
 party was, how many of each. The outsiders, not 
 decidedly of inferior rank, were almost driven into 
 making a little clique — if so it might be called — of
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 51 
 
 their own, and hanging together the more closely. 
 Lord Eiymanth of course predominated ; but he 
 was a widower of many years' standing, and his 
 heir lived in a distant county. His sister, Lady 
 Diana, had been married to an Irish Mr. Tracy, 
 who had been murdered after a few years by his 
 tenants, upon which she had come with her three 
 children to live at Arked House. I never could 
 guess how she came to marry an Irish landlord, 
 and I always thought she must have exasperated 
 his people. She was viewed as the perfection of a 
 Lady Bountiful and pattern of excellence ; but, I 
 confess, that I always thought of her Avhen I heard 
 of the devout and honourable women who were 
 stirred up against St. Paul. She was a person 
 who was admired more than she was liked, and 
 who was greatly praised and honoured, but some- 
 how did not proportionably endear herself on 
 closer acquaintance, doing a great deal of good, , 
 but all to large masses rather than individuals. 
 However, all the neighbourhood had a pride in 
 her, and it was a distinction to be considered a fit 
 
 companion for Diana and Viola Tracy. I never 
 
 B 2
 
 52 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 cared for Di, who was her mother over again, and 
 used to set us to rights with all her might ; but she 
 had married early, a very rich man — and Viola 
 and I had always been exceedingly fond of one 
 another, so that I could not bear to be cut off from 
 her, however I might be disposed to defy her 
 mother. 
 
 The upshot of my perplexities was that I set 
 off to Mycening to lay them before Miss Wool- 
 mer, another of the few belonging to neither 
 clan, to know what all this meant, as well as to 
 be interested in my nephews. 
 
 Mycening is one of the prettiest country towns 
 I know, at least it was twenty years ago. There 
 is a very wide street, unpaved, but with a broad 
 smooth gravelled way, slightly sloping down to- 
 wards the little clean stone-edged gutters that 
 border the carriage road along the centre, which 
 is planted on each side with limes cut into arches. 
 The houses are of all sorts, some old timbered 
 gable-ended ones with projecting upper stories, 
 like our own, others of the handsome old Queen 
 Anne type with big sash windows, and others-
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 53 
 
 quite modern. Some have their gardens in front, 
 some stand flush with the road, and the better 
 sort are mixed with the shops and cottages. 
 
 Miss Woolmcr Hved in a tiny low one, close 
 to the road, where, from her upstairs floor, she 
 saw all that came and went, and, intellectual 
 woman as she certainly was, she thoroughly 
 enjoyed watching her neighbours, as by judiciously- 
 arranged looking-glasses, she could do all up and 
 down the street. I believe she had been a pretty 
 woman, though on a small scale, and now she 
 had bright eyes, and a very sweet bright look, 
 though in complexion she had faded into the 
 worn pallor that belongs to permanent ill health. 
 She dressed nicely, and if she had been well, 
 might, at her age, scarcely above forty, have been 
 as much a young lady as Philippa Horsman ; 
 but I fancy the great crush of her life had taken 
 away her girlhood and left her no spring of con- 
 stitution to resist illness, so that she had sunk 
 into a regular crippled invalid before I could 
 remember, though her mind was full of activity. 
 
 " You are come to tell me about them, my
 
 54 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 dear," was her greeting. " I've seen them. No, 
 I don't mean that they have been to see me. You'll 
 bring them some day, won't you .'' I'm sure 
 Ambrose's boy would come to see a sick woman. 
 I watched one of them yesterday pick up old 
 Molly's oranges for her in the street, when her 
 basket got upset by a cart, and he then paid her 
 for them, and gave them among the children 
 round. It did my heart good, I'd not seen such 
 a sight since the boys were sent away." 
 
 " Harold would do anything kind," I said, 
 " or to see an old friend of his father. The worst 
 of it is that there seem to be so few who wish 
 to see him, or can even forgive me for staying 
 with him." 
 
 I showed her Lord Erymanth's letter, and told 
 her of the others, asking her what it meant. " Oh, 
 as to Lady Diana," she said, " there is no doubt 
 about that. She was greatly offended at your 
 having sent away her carriage and not having 
 taken her advice, and she goes about saying she 
 is disappointed in you." 
 
 For my mother's sake, and my little Viola,.
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 55 
 
 and Auld Lang Syne besides, I was much hurt, 
 and defended myself in a tone of pique which 
 made Miss Woolmer smile and say she was far 
 from blaming me, but that she thought I ought 
 to count the cost of my remaining at Arghouse. 
 And then she told me that the whole county was 
 up in arms against the new comers, not only from 
 old association of their name with revolutionary 
 notions, but because the old Misses Stympson, of 
 Lake Side, who had connections in New South 
 Wales, had set it abroad that the poor boys were 
 ruffians, companions of the double-dyed villain 
 Prometesky, and that Harold in especial was a 
 marked man, who had caused the death of his 
 own wife in a frenzy of intoxication. 
 
 At this I fairly laughed. Harold, at his age, 
 who never touched liquor, and had lived a sort 
 of hermit life in the Bush, to be saddled with 
 a wife only to have destroyed her ! The story 
 contradicted itself by its own absurdity ; and 
 those two Miss Stympsons were well - known 
 scandal - mongers. Miss Woolmer never beheved 
 a story of theirs without sifting, but she had
 
 56 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 been in a manner commissioned to let me know 
 that society was determined not to accept Eustace 
 and Harold Alison, and was irate at my doing 
 so. Mothers declared that they should be very 
 sorry to give poor Lucy Alison up, but that they 
 could not have their children brought into con- 
 tact with young men little better than convicts, 
 and whom they zuoidd, besides, call my cousins, 
 instead of my nephews. " I began to suspect it," 
 I said, " when nobody left cards but Mr. Lawless 
 and Peter Parsons." 
 
 " And that is the society they are to be left 
 to } " 
 
 "But I shall not leave them," I cried. "Why 
 should I, to please Miss Stympson and Lord 
 Erymanth .^ I shall stand by my own brothers' 
 sons against all the world." 
 
 "And if they be worthy, Lucy, your doing 
 so is the best chance of their weathering the 
 storm. See ! is not that one of them > The 
 grand-looking giant one, who moves like a king 
 of men. He is Ambrose's son, is he not .-* What 
 a pity he is not the squire ! "
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 57 
 
 Harold was, in effect, issuing from the toy- 
 shop, carrying an immense kite on his arm, like 
 a shield, while Dora frisked round in admiration, 
 and a train of humbler admirers flocked in the 
 rear. 
 
 I hurried down into the street to tell 
 Harold of my old friend's wish to see them, and 
 he followed me at once, with that manner which 
 was not courtesy, because, without being polished, 
 it was so much more. Dora was much displeased, 
 being ardent on the kite's tail, and followed with 
 sullen looks, while Harold had to stoop low to 
 get into the room, and brushed the low ceiling 
 with his curly hair as he stood upright. Miss 
 Woolmer gazing up to the very top of him. I 
 think she was rather disappointed that he had 
 not taken more after his father ; and she told 
 him that he was like his uncle Lewthwayte, look- 
 ing keenly to see whether he shrunk from the 
 comparison to a man who had died a felon's 
 death ; but he merely answered, " So I have been 
 told." 
 
 Then she asked for his mother, and he briefly
 
 58 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 replied that she was well and in New Zealand. 
 There was an attempt at noticing Dora, to which 
 she responded like the wild opossum that she 
 was, and her fidgeting carried the day. Harold 
 only made answer to one or two more observa- 
 tions, and then could not but take leave, promising 
 on the entreaty of the old lady, to come and see 
 her again. I outstayed them, being curious to 
 hear her opinion. 
 
 "A superb being," she said, with a long breath; 
 "there's the easy strength of a Greek demigod 
 in every tread." 
 
 " He seems to me more like Thor in Nifel- 
 heim," I said, " being, no doubt, half a Viking to 
 begin with." 
 
 " They are all the same, as people tell us 
 now," she said, smiling. "Any way, he looks 
 as if he was a waif from the heroic age. 
 But, my dear, did not I hear him call you 
 Lucy .? " 
 
 " They generally do." 
 
 " I would not let them. Cling to your aunt- 
 ship ; it explains your being with them. A grand
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 59 
 
 creature ! I feel like the people who had had a 
 visit from the gods of old." 
 
 "And you understand how impossible it would 
 be to run away," I said. 
 
 She smiled, but added, " Lucy, my dear, that 
 looked very like a wedding-ring!" 
 
 I could not think it possible. Why, he was 
 scarcely five-and-twenty ! And yet the sug- 
 gestion haunted me, whenever my eyes fell on 
 his countenance in repose, and noted the habitual 
 sadness of expression which certainly did not 
 match with the fine open face that seemed fitted 
 to express the joy of strength. It came on me 
 too when, at the lodge, a child who had been 
 left alone too long and had fallen into an unmiti- 
 gated agony of screaming, Harry had actually, 
 instead of fleeing from the sound, gone in, taken 
 the screamer in his arms, and so hushed and 
 pacified it, that on the mother's return she found 
 it at perfect rest. 
 
 " One would think the gentleman was a father 
 
 * 
 
 himself, ma'am," she had said to me ; and there- 
 upon Harold had coloured, and turned hastily
 
 6o MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 aside, so that the woman fancied she had offended 
 him and apologised, so that he had been forced 
 to look back again and say, " Never mind," and 
 " No harm done," with a half laugh, which, as 
 it now struck me, had a ring of pain in it, and 
 was not merely the laugh of a shy young man 
 under an impossible imputation. True, I knew 
 he was not a religious man, but to believe actual 
 ill of him seemed to me impossible. 
 
 He had set himself to survey the Arghouse 
 estate, so as to see how those dying wishes of 
 his father could best be carried out, and he was 
 making himself thoroughly acquainted with every 
 man, woman, child, and building, to the intense 
 jealousy of Bullock, who had been agent all 
 through my mother's time, and had it all his 
 own way. He could not think why " Mr. Harold " 
 should be always hovering about the farms and 
 cottages, sometimes using his own ready colonial 
 hand to repair deficiencies, and sometimes his 
 purse, and making the people take fancies into 
 their heads that were never there before, and 
 which would make Mr. Alison lose hundreds a
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 6i 
 
 year if they were attended to. And as Mr. 
 Alison always did attend to his cousin, and 
 gave orders accordingly, the much - aggrieved 
 Bullock had no choice but in delaying their 
 execution and demonstrating their impractica- 
 bility, whereas, of course, Harold did not believe 
 in impossibilities. 
 
 It was quite true, as he had once said, that 
 though he could not bring about improvements 
 as readily as if he had been landlord, yet he 
 could get at the people much better, and learn 
 their own point of vnew of what was good for 
 them. They were beginning to idolise him ; for, 
 indeed, there was a fascination about him which 
 no one could resist. I sometimes wondered 
 what it was, considering that he was so slow 
 of speech, and had so little sunshine of mirth 
 about him. 
 
 I never did enforce my title of Aunt, in 
 spite of Miss Woolmer's advice. It sounded too 
 ridiculous, and would have hindered the sisterly 
 feeling that held us together. 
 
 Eustace was restless and vexed at not beinsf
 
 62 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 called upon, and anxious to show himself on any 
 occasion, and I was almost equally anxious to 
 keep him back, out of reach of mortification. 
 Both he and Harold went to London on business, 
 leaving Dora with me. The charge was less 
 severe than I expected. My first attempts at 
 teaching her had been frustrated by her scorn 
 of me, and by Harold's baffling indulgence ; but 
 one day, when they had been visiting one of the 
 farms, the children had been made to exhibit 
 their acquirements, which were quite sufiicient 
 to manifest Dora's ignorance. Eustace had long 
 declared that if she would not learn of me she 
 must either have a governess or go to school, 
 and I knew she was fit for neither. Harold, I 
 believe, now enforced the threat, and when he 
 went away, left her a black silk necktie to be 
 hemmed for him, and a toy book with flaming 
 illustrations, with an assurance that on her read- 
 ing it to him on his return, depended his giving 
 her a toy steam-engine. 
 
 Dora knew that Harold kept his word, even 
 with her. I think she had a great mind to ^ret
 
 THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE. 63 
 
 no one's assistance but the kitchenmaid's, but 
 this friendship was abruptly terminated by Dora's 
 arraying the kangaroo in Sarah's best bonnet 
 and cloak, and launching it upon a stolen inter- 
 view between her and her sweetheart. The 
 screams brought all the house together, and, as 
 the hero was an undesirable party who had been 
 forbidden the house, Sarah viewed it as treachery 
 on Miss Dora's part, and sulked enough to 
 alienate her. 
 
 Dora could make out more to herself in a 
 book than she could read aloud, and one day 
 I saw her spelling over the table of degrees of 
 marriage in a great folio Prayer-Book, which 
 she had taken down in quest of pictures. Some 
 time later in the day, she said, " Lucy, are you 
 Harry's father's sister t " and when I said yes, 
 she added, with a look of discovery, "A man 
 cannot marry his father's sister." 
 
 It was no time to protest against the marriage 
 of first cousins. I was glad enough that from 
 that time the strange child laid aside her jealousy 
 of me ; and that thenceforth her resistance was
 
 64 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 simply the repugnance of a wild creature to be 
 taught and tamed. Ultimately she let me into 
 the recesses of that passionate heart, and, as I 
 think, loved me better than anybody else, except 
 Harold ; but even so, at an infinite distance from 
 that which seemed the chief part of her whole 
 being.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE LIOX OF NEME HEATH. 
 
 The work was done. The sixteen pages of 
 large -type story book were stumbled through; 
 and there was a triumphant exhibition when 
 the cousins came home — Eustace delighted ; 
 Harold, half-stifled by London, insisting on walk- 
 ing home from the station to stretch his legs, 
 and going all the way round over Kalydon Moor 
 for a whiff of air ! 
 
 If we had not had a few moors and heaths 
 where he could breathe, I don't know whether 
 he could have stayed in England ; and as for 
 London, the din, the dinginess, the squalor of 
 houses and people, sat like a weight on his 
 heart. 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 66 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 " They told mc a great deal had been done 
 for England. It is just nothing," he said, and 
 hardly anything else that whole evening ; while 
 Eustace, accoutred point - device by a London 
 tailor, poured forth volumes of what he had 
 seen and done. Mr. Prosser made up a dinner 
 party for them, and had taken them to an 
 evening party or two — at least, Eustace ; for 
 after the first Harold had declined, and had 
 spent his time in wandering about London by 
 gas-light, and standing on the bridges, or trying 
 how far it was on each side to green fields, 
 and how much misery lay between. 
 
 Eustace had evidently been made much of, 
 and had enjoyed himself greatly. It grieved me 
 that his first entrance into society should be 
 under no better auspices than those of the 
 family solicitor ; but he did not yet perceive 
 this, and was much elated. " I flatter myself 
 it was rather a success," was the phrase he had 
 brought home, a pyopos to everything he had 
 worn or done, from his tie to his shoe-buckles. 
 He told me the price of everything, all the dis-
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 67 
 
 cussions with his tradesmen, and all the gazes 
 fixed on him, with such simplicity that I could 
 not help caring ; and there sat Harold in his 
 corner, apparently asleep, but his eye now and 
 then showing that he was thinking deeply. 
 
 " Lucy," he said, as we bade one another 
 good-night, "is nothing being done?^' 
 
 "About what?" I asked. 
 
 " For all that wretchedness." 
 
 " Oh yes, there are all sorts of attempts," and 
 I told him of model cottages, ragged schools, 
 and the like, and promised to find him the 
 accounts ; but he gave one of his low growls, 
 as if this were but a mockery of the direful 
 need. 
 
 He had got his statement of Prometesky's 
 case properly drawn up, and had sent up a 
 copy, but in vain ; and had again been told 
 that some influential person must push it to 
 give it any chance. Mr. Prosser's acquaint- 
 ance lay in no such line ; or, at least, were 
 most unlikely to promote the pardon of an old 
 incendiary. 
 
 F 2
 
 68 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 "What will you do?" I asked. "Must you 
 give it up ? " 
 
 " Never ! I will make a way at last." 
 
 Meantime, he was necessary to Eustace In 
 accomplishing all the details of taking possession. 
 Horses were wanted by both, used to riding as 
 they had always been, and there was an old- 
 fashioned fair on Neme Heath, just beyond 
 Mycening, rather famous for its good show of 
 horses, where there was a chance of finding even 
 so rare an article as a hunter up to Harold's 
 weight, also a pony for Dora. 
 
 An excellent show of wild beasts was also 
 there. Harold had been on the heath when it 
 was being arranged in the earliest morning hours, 
 and had fraternised with the keepers, and came 
 home loquacious far more than usual on the 
 wonders he had seen. I remember that, instead 
 of being disappointed in the size of the lions and 
 tigers, he dwelt with special admiration on their 
 supple and terrible strength of spine and paw. 
 
 He wanted to take Dora at once to the mena- 
 gerie, but I represented the inexpedience of their
 
 THE LTON OF NE ME HEATH. 69 
 
 takini^ her about with them to the horse-fair after- 
 wards, and made Eustace perceive that it would 
 not do for Miss AHson ; and as Harold backed my 
 authority, she did not look like thunder for more 
 than ten minutes when she found we were to drive 
 to Neme Heath, and that she was to go home with 
 me after seeing the animals. Eustace was un- 
 certain about his dignity, and hesitated about not 
 caring and not intending, and not liking me to go 
 alone, but made up his mind that since. he had to 
 be at the fair, he would drive us. 
 
 So we had out the barouche, and Eustace held 
 the reins with infinite elation, while Harold endured 
 the interior to reconcile Dora to it, and was as 
 much diverted as she was at the humours of the 
 scene, exclaiming at every stall of gilt gingerbread, 
 every see-saw, and merry-go-round, that lined the 
 suburbs of Mycening, and I strongly suspect medi- 
 tating a private expedition to partake of their 
 delights. Harold was thoroughly the great child 
 nature meant him for, while poor Eustace sat aloft 
 enfolded in his dignity, not daring to look right or 
 left, or utter a word of surprise, lest he should
 
 70 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 compromise himself in the eyes of the coachman 
 by his side. 
 
 The fair was upon the heath, out to which the 
 new part of the town was stretching itself, and 
 long streets of white booths extended themselves 
 in their regular order. We drove on noiselessly 
 over the much-trodden turf, until we were checked 
 by the backward rush of a frightened crowd, and 
 breathless voices called out to Eustace, " Stop, sir ; 
 turn, for Heaven's sake. The lion ! He's loose ! " 
 
 Turning was impossible, for the crowd was 
 rushing back on us, blocking us up ; and Eustace 
 dropped the reins, turning round \\\\\\ a cry of 
 " Harry ! Harry ! I see him. Take us away ! " 
 
 Harold sprang on the back seat as the coach- 
 man jumped down to run to the horses' heads. 
 He saw over the people's heads, and after that 
 glance made one bound out of the carriage. I 
 saw then what I shall never forget, across the 
 wide open space round which the principal shows 
 were arranged, and which was now entirely bare 
 of people. On the other side, between the shafts 
 of a waggon, too low for him to creep under, lay
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 71 
 
 the great yellow lion,, waving the tufted end of 
 his tail as a cat does, when otherwise still, showing 
 the glassy glare of his eyes now and then, growl- 
 ing with a horrible display of fangs, and holding 
 between those huge paws a senseless boy as a 
 sort of hostage. From all the lanes between 
 the booths the people Avere looking in terror, 
 ready for a rush on the beast's least movement, 
 shrieking calls to someone to save the boy, fetch 
 a gun, bring the keeper, &c. 
 
 That moment, with the great thick carriage- 
 rug on his arm, Harold darted forward, knocking 
 down a gun which some foolish person had 
 brought from a shooting-gallery, and shouting, 
 " Don't ! It will only make him kill the boy ! " he 
 gathered himself up for a rush ; while I believe 
 we all called to him to stop : I am sure of 
 Eustace's " Harry ! don't ! What shall I do ? " 
 
 Before the words were spoken, Harold had 
 darted to the side of the terrible creature, and 
 with a bound, vaulted across its neck as it lay, 
 dealing it a tremendous blow over the nose with 
 that sledge-hammer fist, and throwing the rug
 
 72 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 over its head. Horrible roaring growls, like snarl- 
 ing thunder, were heard for a second or two, 
 and one man dashed out of the frightened throng, 
 rifle in hand, just in time to receive the child, 
 whom Harold flung to him, snatched from the 
 lion's grasp ; and again we saw a wrestling, strug- 
 gling, heaving mass, Harry still uppermost, pinning 
 the beast down with his weight and the mighty 
 strength against which it struggled furiously. 
 Having got free of the boy, his one ally was 
 again aiming his rifle at the lion's ear, when two 
 keepers, with nets and an iron bar, came on 
 the scene, one shouting not to shoot, and the 
 other holding up the bar and using some word 
 of command, at which the lion cowered and 
 crouched. The people broke into a loud cheer 
 after their breathless silence, and it roused the 
 already half-subdued lion. There was another 
 fierce and desperate struggle, lasting only a 
 moment, and ended by the report of the rifle. 
 
 In fact, the whole passed almost like a flash 
 of lightning from the moment of our first halt, 
 till the crowd closed in, so that I could only see
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 73 
 
 one bare yellow head, toueriny; above the hats, 
 and finally cleaving a way towards us, closely 
 followed by Dermot Tracy, carrying the rifle 
 and almost beside himself with enthusiasm and 
 excitement. "Lucy — is it you? What, he is 
 your cousin ! I never saw anything like it ! He 
 mastered it alone, quite alone!" 
 
 And then we heard Harry bidding those 
 around not touch him, and Dora screamed with 
 dismay, and I saw he had wrapped both hands 
 in his handkerchief To m\- frightened question, 
 whether he was hurt, he answered, " Only m}'- 
 hands, but I fancy the brute has done for some 
 of my fingers. If those fellows could but have 
 held their tongues ! " 
 
 He climbed into the carriage to rid himself 
 of the crowd, who were offering all sorts of aid, 
 commiseration, and advice, and Dermot begged 
 to come too, " in case he should be faint,'^ which 
 made Harry smile, though he was in much pain, 
 frowning and biting his lip while the coachman 
 took the reins, and turned us round amid the 
 deafening cheers of the people, for Eustace was
 
 74 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 quite unnerved, and Dora broke into sobs as she 
 saw the blood soaking through the handkerchiefs 
 — all that we could contribute. He called her a 
 little goose, and said it was nothing ; but the great 
 drops stood on his brow, he panted and moved 
 restlessly, as if sitting still were unbearable, and 
 he could hardly help stamping out the bottom 
 of the carriage. He shouted to Eustace to let 
 him walk, but Dermot showed him how he would 
 thus have the crowd about him in a moment. It 
 was the last struggle that had done the mischief, 
 when the lion, startled by the shout of the 
 crowd, had turned on him again, and there had 
 been a most narrow escape of a dying bite, 
 such as would probably have crushed his hand 
 itself beyond all remedy ; and, as it was, one 
 could not but fear he was dreadfully hurt, 
 when the pain came in accesses of violence 
 several times in the short distance to Dr. 
 Kingston's door. 
 
 No, Dr. Kingston was not at home ; nor would 
 be in for some time ; but while we were thinking 
 what to do, a }'oung man came hastily up, saying,
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 75 
 
 " I am Dr. Kingston's partner ; can I do any- 
 thing ? " 
 
 Harold sprang out on this, forbidding Eustace 
 to follow him, but permitting Dermot ; and Mrs. 
 Kingston, an old acquaintance of mine, came and 
 invited us all to her drawing-room, lamenting 
 greatly her husband's absence, and hoping that 
 Mr. Yolland, his new partner, would be able to 
 supply his place. The }'Oung man had very high 
 testimonials and an excellent education. She was 
 evidently exercised between her own^ distrust of 
 the assistant and fear of disparaging him. Seeing 
 how much shaken we were, she sent for wine, and 
 I was surprised to see Eustace take some almost 
 furtively, but his little sister, though still sobbing, 
 glared out from behind the knuckles she was 
 rubbing into her eyes, and exclaimed, " Eustace, 
 I shall tell Harry." 
 
 " Hold your tongue," said Eustace, petulantly ; 
 " Harry has nothing to do with it." 
 
 Mrs. Kingston looked amazed. I set to work 
 to talk them both down, and must have given 
 a very wild, nervous account of the disaster. At
 
 76 JfV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 last Dermot opened the door for Harry, who 
 came in, looking very pale, with one hand en- 
 tirely covered and in a sling, the other bound 
 up all but the thumb and forefinger. To our 
 anxious inquiries, he replied that the pain was 
 much better now, and he should soon be all 
 right ; and then, on being further pressed, admitted 
 that the little finger had been so much crushed 
 that it had been taken off from the first joint, 
 the other three fingers had been broken and were 
 in splints, and the right hand was only torn and 
 scratched. Mrs. Kingston exclaimed at this that 
 Mr. Yolland should have waited for the doctor 
 to venture on such an operation, but both Dermot 
 and Harold assured her that he could not have 
 waited, and also that it could not have been 
 more skilfully done, both of which assurances 
 she must have heard with doubts as to the com- 
 petence of the judges, and she much regretted 
 that she could not promise a visit from her doctor 
 that evening, as he was likely to be detained all 
 night. 
 
 Dermot came downstairs with us, and we
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 77 
 
 found Mr. Yolland waiting at the door to extract 
 a final promise that Harold would go to bed at 
 once on coming home. It seemed that he had 
 laughed at the recommendation, so that the 
 young surgeon felt bound to enforce it before 
 all of us, adding that it was a kind of hurt that 
 no one could safely neglect. There was some- 
 thing in his frank, brusque manner that pleased 
 Harold, and he promised with half a smile, 
 thanking the doctor hastily as he did so, while 
 Dermot Tracy whispered to me, " Good luck 
 getting him ; twice as ready as the old one ; " 
 and then vehemently shaking all our hands, to 
 make up for Harold's not being fit to touch, he 
 promised to come and see him on the morrow. 
 The moment we were all in the carriage — Eustace 
 still too much shaken to drive home — his first 
 question was, who that was } 
 
 " Mr. Tracy," I answered ; and Eustace added, 
 " I thought you called him Dermont .'' " 
 
 " Dermot — Dermot Tracy. I have known him 
 all our lives." 
 
 " I saw he was a gentleman by his boots,"
 
 78 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 quoth Eustace with dehberation, holding out his 
 own foot as a standard. " I saw they were 
 London made." 
 
 " How fortunate that you had not on your 
 Sydney ones," I could not help saying in mischief. 
 
 " I took care of that," was the complacent 
 answer. " I told Richardson to take them all 
 away." 
 
 I don't think Harold saw the fun. They had 
 neither of them any humour ; even Harold was 
 much too simple and serious. 
 
 Eustace next treated us to a piece of his well- 
 conned manual, and demonstrated that Dermot 
 St. Glear Tracy, Esquire, of Killy Marey, County 
 Cavan, Ireland, was grandson to an English peer, 
 great grandson to an Irish peer, and nephew to 
 the existing Edward St. Glear, 6th Earl of Ery- 
 manth. " And a very fashionable young man," 
 he went on, " distinguished in the sporting world." 
 
 "An excellent good fellow, with plenty of 
 pluck," said Harold warmly. " Is he not brother 
 to the pretty little girl who was with you when 
 we came.^"
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 79 
 
 I answered as briefly as I could ; I did not want 
 to talk of the Tracys. My heart was very sore 
 about them, and I was almost relieved when 
 Dora broke in with a grave accusing tone: " Harry, 
 Eustace drank a glass of wine, and I said I would 
 tell you !" 
 
 " Eustace has no reason to prevent him," was 
 Harold's quiet answer. 
 
 "And, really, I think, in my position, it is 
 ridiculous, you see," Eustace began stammering, 
 but was wearily cut short by Harold with, " As 
 you please." 
 
 Eustace could never be silent long, and broke 
 forth again : " Harold, your ring." 
 
 By way of answer Harold, with his available 
 thumb and finger, showed the ring for a moment 
 from his waistcoat pocket. Instantly Dora sprang 
 at it, snatched it from his finger before he was 
 aware, and with all her might flung it into the 
 river, for we w^ere crossing the bridge. 
 
 There was strength in that thumb and finger 
 to give her a sharp fierce shake, and the low voice 
 that said " Dora " was like the lion's growl.
 
 8o AfV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 " It's Meg's ring, and I hate her ! " she cried. 
 
 " For shame, Dorothy." 
 
 The child burst into a flood of tears and 
 sobbed piteously, but it was some minutes before 
 he would relent and look towards her. Eustace 
 scolded her for making such a noise, and vexing 
 Harold when he was hurt, but that only made 
 her cry the more. I told her to say she was sorry, 
 and perhaps Harold would forgive her; but she 
 shook her head violently at this, 
 
 Harold relented, unable to bear the sight of 
 distress. " Don't tease her," he said, shortly, to 
 us both. " Hush, Dora ; there's an end of it." 
 
 This seemed to be an amnesty, for she leant 
 against his knee again. 
 
 " Dora, how could you ? " I said, when we 
 were out of the carriage, and the two young 
 men had gone upstairs together. 
 
 " It was Meg's ring, and I hate her," an- 
 swered Dora, with the fierce wild gleam in her 
 eyes, 
 
 " You should not hate anyone," was, of 
 course, my answer.
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 8i 
 
 " But she's dead ! " said Dora, triumphantly 
 as a Httle tigress. 
 
 " So much the worse it is to hate her. Who 
 was she .''" 
 
 "His wife," said Dora. 
 
 I durst not ask the child any more questions. 
 
 "Eustace, who is Meg.?" 
 
 I could not but ask that question as we sat 
 tetc-a-tctc after dinner, Dora having gone to carry 
 Harold some fruit, and being sure to stay with 
 him as long as he permitted. 
 
 Eustace looked round with a startled, cautious 
 eye, as if afraid of being overheard, and said, 
 as Dora had done, " His wife." 
 
 "Not alive!'' 
 
 " Oh no — thank goodness." 
 
 "At his age!" 
 
 " He was but twenty when he married her. 
 A bad business ! I knew it could not be other- 
 wise. She was a storekeeper's daughter." 
 
 Then I learnt, in Eustace's incoherent style, 
 the sad story I understood better afterwards. 
 
 This miserable marriage had been the outcome 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 of the desolate state of the family after the loss 
 of all the higher spirits of the elder generation. 
 For the first few years after my brothers had won 
 their liberation, and could hold property, they 
 had been very happy, and the foundations of 
 their prosperity at Boola Boola had been laid. 
 Had Ambrose lived he would, no doubt, have 
 become a leading man in the colony, where he 
 had heartily embraced his lot and shaped his 
 career. 
 
 Poor Eustace was, however, meant by nature 
 for a quiet, refined English gentleman, living 
 in his affections. He would never have trans- 
 gressed ordinary bounds save for his brother's 
 overmastering influence. He drooped from the 
 time of Ambrose's untimely death, suffered much 
 from the loss of several children, and gradually 
 became a prey to heart complaint. But his wife 
 was full of sense and energy, and Ambrose's 
 plans were efficiently carried on, so that all went 
 well till Alice's marriage ; and, a year or two later 
 on, Dorothy's death, in giving birth to her little 
 girl, no woman was left at the farm but a rougli
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 83 
 
 though kind-hearted old convict, who did her 
 best for the motherless child. 
 
 Harold, then sixteen, and master of his 
 father's half of the property, was already its chief 
 manager. He was, of course, utterly unrestrained, 
 doing all kinds of daring and desperate things 
 in the exuberance of his growing strength, and, 
 though kind to his feeble uncle, under no au- 
 thority, and a thorough young barbarian of the 
 woods ; the foremost of all the young men in 
 every kind of exploit, as marksman, rider, hunter, 
 and what-not, and wanting also to be foremost 
 in the good graces of Meg Cree, the handsome 
 daughter of the keeper of the wayside store on 
 the road to Sydney, where young stock-farmers 
 were wont to meet, with the price of their wool 
 fresh in their hands. It was the rendezvous for 
 all that was collectively done in the district ; and 
 many were the orgies and revelries in which 
 Harold had shared when a mere boy in all but 
 strength and stature, and ungovernable in pro- 
 portion to the growing forces within him. 
 
 Of course she accepted him, with his grand 
 
 G 2
 
 84 MV YOUNG A LCI DBS. 
 
 physical advantages and his good property. There 
 was rivahy enough to excite him, her beauty 
 was sufficient to fire his boyish fancy ; and oppo- 
 sition only maddened his headstrong will. A 
 loud, boisterous, self-willed boy, with already 
 strength, courage, and power beyond those of 
 most grown men ; his inclination light and un- 
 formed, as the attachments of his age usually 
 are, was so backed that he succeeded where failure 
 would have been a blessing. 
 
 My poor brother Eustace ! what must not 
 Harold's marriage have been to him ! Into the 
 common home, hitherto peaceful if mournful, was 
 brought this coarse, violent, uneducated woman, 
 jealous of him and his family, unmeasured in 
 rudeness, contemning all the refinements to which 
 he clung, and which even then were second nature 
 to the youths, boasting over him for being a con- 
 vict, whereas her father was a free settler, and 
 furious at any act of kindness or respect to him 
 from her husband. 
 
 She must have had a sort of animal jealousy, 
 for the birth of her first child rendered her so
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 85 
 
 savagely intolerant of poor Dora's fondness for 
 Harold, that the offer of a clergyman's wife to 
 take charge of the little girl was thankfully ac- 
 cepted by her father, though it separated him 
 Irom his darling by more than fifty miles. 
 
 The woman's plan seemed to be to persecute 
 the two Eustaces out of her house, since she 
 could not persuade Harold that it was not as 
 much theirs as his own. They clung on, as 
 weak men do, for want of energy to make a 
 change, and Eustace said his father would never 
 complain ; but Harold never guessed how much 
 she made him suffer. Home had become a 
 wretched place to all, and Harold was more 
 alienated from it, making long expeditions, stay- 
 ing out as long and as late as he could 
 whenever business or pleasure called him away, 
 and becoming, alas, more headlong and reckless 
 in the pursuit of amusement. There were fierce 
 hot words when he came home, and though 
 a tender respect for his uncle was the one 
 thing in which he never failed, the whole 
 grand creature was being wrecked and ruined
 
 86 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 by the wild courses to which home misery was 
 driving him. 
 
 After about three years of this kind of life, 
 Meg, much against his will, went to her father's 
 station for the birth of her second child ; lingered 
 in the congenial atmosphere there far longer than 
 was necessary after her recovery, and roused 
 Harold's jealousy to a violent pitch by her de- 
 meanour towards a fellow of her own rank, whom 
 she probably would have married but for Harold's 
 unfortunate advantages, and whom she now most 
 perilously preferred. 
 
 The jollification after the poor child's long- 
 deferred christening ended in furious language on 
 both sides, Meg insisting that she would not go 
 home while " the old man " remained at Boola 
 Boola, Harold swearing that she should come at 
 once, and finally forcing her into his buggy, silenc- 
 ing by sheer terror her parents' endeavours to keep 
 them at least till morning, rather than drive in his 
 half-intoxicated condition across the uncleared 
 country in the moonlight. 
 
 In the early morning Harold stood at their
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 87 
 
 door dazed and bleeding, with his eldest child 
 crushed and moaning in his arms. Almost with- 
 out a word he gave it to the grandmother, and 
 then guided the men at hand, striding on silently 
 before them, to the precipitous bank of a deep 
 gulley some twelve miles off. In the bottom lay 
 the carriage broken to pieces, and beside it, where 
 Harold had dragged them out, Meg and her 
 baby both quite dead — where he had driven 
 headlong down in the darkness. 
 
 The sun was burning hot when they brought 
 her back in the cart, Harold walking behind with 
 the little one in his arms, and when he had laid 
 it down at home, the elder one wailed till he 
 took it. It was a fine boy of two years old, the 
 thing he loved best in the world ; but with a 
 broken spine there was no hope for it, and for 
 a whole day and night he held it, pacing the 
 room, and calling it, speaking to and noticing 
 no one else, and touching no food, only slaking 
 his thirst with the liquor that stood at hand, 
 until the poor little thing died in convulsions. 
 
 Unhappily, he had scarcely laid it down be-
 
 88 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 side its mother and brother, when he saw his 
 rival in the outer room of the store, and with 
 one deadly imprecation, and a face which Eustace 
 could not think of without horror, challenged him 
 to fight, and in a second or two had struck him 
 down, with a fractured skull. But the deed was 
 done in undoubted brain fever. That was quite 
 established, and for ten days after he was des- 
 perately ill and in the wildest delirium, probably 
 from some injury to the head in the fall, aggra- 
 vated by all that followed. 
 
 Neither magistrate nor doctor was called 
 in, but Prometesky came to their help, and 
 when he grew calmer, brought him home, 
 where his strength rallied, but his mind was for 
 some time astray. For weeks he alternated be- 
 tween moods of speechless apathy and hours of 
 frenzy, which, from his great strength, must have 
 been fatal to someone if he had not always 
 known his gentle, feeble old uncle, and obeyed 
 his entreaties, even when Prometesky lost power 
 with him. 
 
 In this remote part of the country no one
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 89 
 
 interfered ; the Crees, whose presence maddened 
 him, were afraid to approach, and only Prometesky 
 sustained the hopes of the two Eustaces by his 
 conviction that this was not permanent insanity, 
 but a passing effect of the injury ; and they 
 weathered that dreadful time till the frantic fits 
 ceased, and there was only the dull, silent, stoni- 
 ness of look and manner, lasting on after his 
 health had entirely returned, and he had begun 
 mechanically to attend to the farm and stock, 
 and give orders to the men. 
 
 The final cure was the message that Dora 
 was lost in the Bush. Harold had the keen 
 sagacity of a black fellow, and he followed up 
 the track with his unwearied strength until, on 
 the third day, he found her, revived her with 
 the food he had brought with him, and carried 
 her home. There was only just nourishment 
 enough to support her, and he took none himself, 
 so that when he laid her down beside her father, 
 he was so spent that, after a mouthful or two, 
 he slept for twenty hours without moving, as 
 he had never rested since the accident ; and
 
 90 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 when he woke, and Dora ran up and stroked his 
 face, it was the first time he had been seen to 
 smile. Ever since he had been himself again, 
 though changed from the boy of exuberant spirits, 
 and the youth of ungovernable inclinations, into 
 a grave, silent man, happier apparently in Dora's 
 vehement affection than in anything else, and, at 
 any rate, solaced, and soothed by the child's fond- 
 ness and dependence upon him. This was two 
 years ago, and no token of mental malady had 
 since shown itself 
 
 My poor brother Eustace ! My heart yearned 
 to have been able to comfort him. His tender 
 nature had been all along the victim of others, 
 and he was entirely shattered by these last 
 miseries ; an old man when little more than 
 forty, and with heart disease so much accelerated 
 by distress and agitation, that he did not live a 
 month after Dora's adventure ; but at least he 
 had the comfort of seeing Harold's restoration, 
 and being able to commit the other two to his 
 charge, being no doubt aware that his son was 
 at the best a poor Aveak being, and that Harold's
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 91 
 
 nature would rise under responsibility which would 
 call out its generosity. 
 
 Harold had never touched liquor since the 
 day of his child's death, nor spoken of it ; but 
 when his dying uncle begged him to watch over 
 his young cousins, he took up the Bible that 
 lay on the bed, and, unsolicited, took a solemn 
 oath to taste nothing of the kind for the rest of 
 his life. 
 
 Afterwards the three had lived on together at 
 Boola Boola. Then had come the tidings of the 
 inheritance supposed to be Harold's, and with the 
 relief of one glad to make a new beginning, to 
 have a work to do, and leave old things behind, 
 he had taken both the others with him. 
 
 So it was true ! My noble-looking Harold 
 had those dark lines in his spectrum. Wild un- 
 governable strength had whirled him in mere 
 boyhood at the beck of his passions, and when 
 most men are entering freshly upon life, he was 
 already saddened and sobered by sin and suffering. 
 The stories whispered of him were more than 
 true. I remember I cried over them as I sat
 
 92 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 alone that evening. Eustace had not told all 
 with the extenuations that I discovered gradually, 
 some even then by cross-questioning, and much 
 by the tuition of that sisterly affection that had 
 gone out from me to Harold, and fastened on 
 him as the one who, to me, represented family 
 ties. 
 
 I never thought of breaking with him. No, 
 if I had been told he might be insane that very 
 night, it would have bound me to him the more. 
 And when I went to bid him " Good-night " and 
 take away Dora, and saw the massive features 
 in their stillness light up into a good-natured 
 smile of thanks at my inquiries, I could believe 
 it all the less. He was lying cornerwise across 
 the bed, with a stool beyond for his feet to rest 
 on, and laughed a little as he said he always had 
 to contrive thus, he never found a bed long 
 enough ; and our merriment over this seemed to 
 render what Eustace had told me even more in- 
 congruous in one so scrupulously gentle. 
 
 That gentleness was perhaps reactionary in 
 one who had had such lessons in keeping back
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 93 
 
 his strength. He had evidently come forth a 
 changed man. But that vow of his — was it the 
 binding of a worse Hon than that he had fought 
 with to-day .'' Yet could such things be done 
 in the might of a merely human will } And what 
 token was there of the higher aid being invoked } 
 My poor Harold ! I could only pray for him ! 
 Alas ! did he pray for himself? 
 
 I was waked in early morning by Dora's 
 vociferous despair at the disappearance of her 
 big patient, and then Eustace's peremptory fretful 
 tone was heard silencing her by explaining that 
 Harold's hurts had become so painful that he 
 had walked off to Mycening to have the bandages 
 loosened. 
 
 Indeed, when wc met at breakfast, Eustace 
 seemed to think himself injured by the inter- 
 ruption of his slumbers by Harold's coming to 
 him for assistance in putting on his clothes, and 
 stared at my dismay at his having permitted such 
 an exertion. Before long, however, we saw an 
 unmistakable doctor's gig approaching, and from 
 it emerged Harold and Mr. Yolland. I saw now
 
 94 MY YOUNG ALCJDES. 
 
 that he was a sturdy, hard-working-looking young 
 man of seven or eight and twenty, with sandy 
 hair, and an honest, open, weather-beaten face. 
 He had a rather abrupt manner, but much more 
 gentleman-hke than that of the usual style of 
 young Union doctors, who are divided between fine 
 words and affectation and Sawbones roughness. 
 
 He said he had come in to enforce on us what 
 he could not get his patient to believe — that it 
 was madness to take such liberties with himself, 
 while such serious wounds were so fresh ; and 
 certainly Harold did not seem to suppose a two- 
 mile walk more of an exertion than a turn on 
 the terrace ; indeed, but for Mr. Yolland, he would 
 have set off again after breakfast for the inter- 
 rupted quest of horses at the fair. This, how- 
 ever, was forbidden, wdth a hint about even the 
 strongest constitution not being able to defy 
 tetanus. This made us all look grave, and sub- 
 mission being promised, the young doctor took 
 his leave, saying he would come in the evening 
 and dress the hands again for the night. 
 
 " Why did you go to that fellow } " asked
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 95 
 
 Eustace. " It is the old doctor who attends gen- 
 tlemen ; he is only the partner." 
 
 " He is good enough for me," said Harold. " I 
 was right glad to meet him." 
 
 Then it appeared that as Harold was striding 
 into town, half distracted with the pain of his 
 hands, in the sunrise of that April morning, he 
 had had the good fortune to meet Mr. Yolland 
 just coming from the cottage where the poor 
 little boy lay who had been injured by the lion. 
 The fright and shock had nearly killed the mother, 
 and the young doctor had been up all night, 
 trying to save her, while on the floor, in a 
 drunken sleep, lay the father, a navvy, who had 
 expended the money lavished on the child by the 
 spectators of the accident, in a revel at the public- 
 house. If any were left, it was all in the brute's 
 pocket, and the only hope of peace was when he 
 should have drunk it up. 
 
 Eustace went off to the fair to look at horses, 
 Harold impressing on him to do nothing final 
 in haste ; and I could see that, while proud of 
 doing anything on his own account, he was al-
 
 96 JlfY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 most afraid of the venture alone. Tired by his 
 sleepless night and morning walk, Harold, when 
 we went into the hall for Dora's lessons, lay down 
 on the white bear-skin, let us build a pile of 
 cushions for his head, and thanked us with " That's 
 nice." I suppose he had never been waited on 
 before, he smiled with such a grateful look, almost 
 of surprise. 
 
 Have I not said that ours was a black oak- 
 panelled hall, with a wide fireplace, a gallery and 
 oriel window, matted, and so fitted up as to be 
 a pleasant resort for summer days. Our lessons 
 took place there, because I had found that my old 
 schoolroom, out of sight and sound of everything, 
 Avas such an intolerable prison to my little wild 
 Bush girl, that she really could not learn there, 
 since her very limited attention could only be 
 secured, under the certainty that Harold did not 
 leave the house without her. 
 
 He bade her let him hear how well she could 
 read, but he was very soon fast asleep, and I 
 was persuading her that the multiplication-table 
 could not disturb his slumbers, when, at the
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 97 
 
 sound of horses' feet, she darted from my side, 
 Hke an arrow from a bow, to the open front door, 
 and there waved her hand in command, caUing 
 to the rider in a hushed voice, " He is asleep." 
 
 I followed, expecting to see Eustace ; but the 
 rider was instead Dermot Tracy, who in unfeigned 
 alarm asked if he were seriously ill ; and when I 
 laughed and explained, he gave his horse to the 
 groom, and came quietly enough, to satisfy Dora, 
 into the hall with us. 
 
 There he stood transfixed, gazing at the great 
 sleeping figure Avith a passion of enthusiasm in 
 his dark-grey eyes. " Glorious ! " he said. " Splen- 
 did fellow ! Worthy of the deed, Lucy ! It was 
 the most plucky thing I ever saw ! " 
 
 " You distinguished yourself too," I said. 
 
 " I .'' Wh}', I had a rifle. I galloped down 
 to Grice's for mine at the first, when I saw the 
 menagerie people were cowed. What's that to 
 going at him alone, and mastering him too, as 
 he had done before those idiots thought proper 
 to yell } " 
 
 Being talked about, of course, awoke Harold; 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 his eyes opened, and he answered for himself 
 greeting Dermot heartily. Only then did we 
 understand the full history of wdiat had happened. 
 The lion-tamer, whose part it was to exhibit the 
 liberty he could take with the animals, was ill, 
 and his assistant, after much bravado as to his 
 equal power, had felt his courage quail, and tried 
 to renew it with drink. Thus he was in no 
 state to perceive that he had only shot-to the 
 bolt of the door of the cage ; and his be- 
 haviour had so irritated the beast that, after so 
 dealing with him that he lay in a most 
 dangerous state, it had dashed out at the 
 door in rage and terror, and, after seizing the 
 hindmost of the flying crowd, had lain down 
 between the shafts of the waggon, as we had 
 seen him. 
 
 The keepers had lost their heads in the panic, 
 and no one durst go near him. The lion-tamer 
 had to be called from his bed, in lodgings in 
 the town, and only came on the scene just as 
 Dermot's rifle had finished the struggle. The 
 master had quite seen the necessity, but was in
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 99 
 
 great despair at the loss of so valuable an 
 animal. 
 
 " I'll share in making it good to him," said 
 Harold. 
 
 "You.-* You are the last to do so. If you 
 liad only been let alone, the beast would have 
 been captured unhurt. No, no ! I settled all 
 that, as it was I who meddled in the matter 
 when, I believe, you could have settled him your- 
 self." 
 
 " I don't know that," said Harold. " I was 
 glad enough to see your rifle at his ear. But I 
 should like to have his skin, if they would sell it." 
 
 Dermot explained that he had been bargain- 
 ing for the skin, and hoped Mr. Alison would 
 accept it from him, but here Harold's resolution 
 won the day, much as Dermot evidently longed 
 to lay the trophy at his feet. Poor Dermot, I 
 could see hero-worship growing in his eyes, as 
 they talked about horses, endlessly as men can 
 and do talk of them, and diligent inquiries 
 elicited from Harold what things he had done 
 
 with the unbroken animal in Australia. 
 
 H 2
 
 loo MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 I went off the scene at once, but when I re- 
 turned to knicheon they were at it still. And 
 Eustace's return with two steeds for Harold's 
 judgment renewed the subject with double vigour. 
 Dermot gave his counsel, and did not leave 
 Arghouse without reiterating an invitation to the 
 cousins to come to-morrow to his cottage at 
 Biston, to be introduced to his stables, let- 
 doctors say what they might, and Eustace was 
 in raptures at the distinguished acquaintance 
 he fancied he had made for himself. He had 
 learnt something of Mr. Tracy's sporting re- 
 nown, and saw himself introduced to all the 
 hunting world of the county, not to say of 
 England. 
 
 It gave me a great deal to consider, knowing, 
 as I did full well, that poor Dermot's acquaint- 
 ance was not likely to bring him into favour 
 with society, even if it were not dangerous in 
 itself And my poor mother would not have 
 been delighted at my day, a thing I had totally 
 forgotten in the pleasantness of having someone 
 to talk to ; for it was six weeks since I had
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. loi 
 
 spoken to anyone beyond the family, except Miss 
 Woolmer. Besides, it was Dermot ! And that 
 was enough to move me in itself. 
 
 I think I have said that his father was an 
 Irish landlord, who was shot at his own hall- 
 door in his children's infancy. Lady Diana 
 brought them back to her old neighbourhood, 
 and there reigned over one of her brother's 
 villages, with the greatest respect and admira- 
 tion from all, and viewed as a pattern matron, 
 widow, and parent. My mother was, I fancy, a 
 little bit afraid of her, and never entirely at ease 
 with her. I know I was not, but she was so 
 "particular" about her children, that it was a 
 great distinction to be allowed to be intimate 
 Avith them, and my mother was proud of my 
 being their licensed playfellow, when Horsmans 
 and Stympsons were held aloof But even in those 
 days, when I heard the little Tracys spoken of 
 as pattern children, I used to have an odd feeling 
 of what it was to be behind the scenes, and 
 know how much of their fame rested on Di. I 
 gloried in the knowledge how much more charm-
 
 I02 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 ing the other two were than anyone guessed, who 
 thought them models of propriety. 
 
 In truth, Dermot did not keep that reputation 
 much longer than his petticoats. Ere long he 
 was a pickle of the first order, equalling the sub- 
 lime naughtiness of Holiday House, and was con- 
 tinually being sent home by private tutors, who 
 could not manage him. All the time I had a 
 secret conviction that, if he had been my own 
 mother's son, she could have managed him, and 
 he would never have even wished to do what 
 she disapproved ; but Lady Diana had no sym- 
 pathy or warmth in her, and while she loved her 
 children she fretted them, and never thawed nor 
 unbent ; and when she called in her brother's 
 support, Dermot's nerves were driven frantic by 
 the long harangues, and his relief was in antics 
 which of course redoubled his offence. After he 
 had put crackers into his uncle's boots, peppered 
 the coachman's wig, inserted a live toad in the 
 centre of a fortification of clear jelly at a great 
 luncheon, and had one Christmas painted the 
 two stone wild boars that guard the iron gates
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 103 
 
 of Erymanth Castle into startling resemblance of 
 the porkers as displayed in butchers' shops, with 
 a little tin pail at the snout of each, labelling 
 each 7>-2d. per lb., his uncle had little more hope 
 of him. 
 
 Dreading his father's fate for him, Lady Diana 
 put him into the Guards, to prevent him from 
 living in Ireland, and there he fell into all the 
 usual temptations of his kind, so that everybody 
 came to look on him as a black sheep, and all 
 the time I knew that, if any one had taken him 
 in the right way, he might have been kept out 
 of it. Why there was one talk that he and I 
 had at a picnic on Kalydon Moor, which showed 
 me how hopeless he was of ever really pleasing 
 or satisfying his mother without being, what he 
 could never be, like his uncle in his youth, and 
 how knowing that I cared really might make a 
 difference to him. But mamma and Lady Diana 
 were both very much vexed about that talk ; 
 mamma was angry with me ; and when Dermot, 
 in a poetical game a little after, sent me some 
 verses — well, with a little more blarney and ten-
 
 104 MY YOUNG A LCI DBS. 
 
 derness than the case required — there was a real 
 uproar about them. Di showed them to her 
 mother, who apologised in her lofty way for my 
 having been insulted. Oh ! how angry it did 
 make me ; and mamma absolutely cried about it. 
 It seems foolish to say so, but if they would hav^e 
 let us alone I could have done something towards 
 inducing him to keep straight, whereas the way 
 he was treated by his mother and Di only made 
 him worse. Poor mamma ! I don't wonder at 
 her, when even his own mother and uncle would 
 not stand up for him ; but I knew, whenever we 
 met afterwards at ball or party, that it was pain 
 and grief to her for me to speak a word to him, 
 and that she thought me wrong to exchange any- 
 thing beyond bare civility. He was vexed, too, 
 and did not try; and we heard worse and worse 
 of him, especially when he went over to his place 
 in Ireland. 
 
 Then came the Crimean war, and all the 
 chances of showing what I knew he really was ; 
 but at the Alma he was wounded, not very 
 dangerously, but just touching his lungs, and
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 105 
 
 after a long illness in London, the doctors said 
 he must not go back to Sebastopol, for to serve 
 in the trenches would be certain death to him. 
 He wanted to go back all the same, and had an 
 instinct that it would be better for him, but his 
 mother and uncle prevented him and made him 
 sell out, and after that, w^hen he had nothing to 
 do — oh ! there's no need to think of it. 
 
 In the course of this last year he had taken 
 the shooting of Kalydon Moor, and a house with 
 it, with immense stables, which one of the Hors- 
 mans had made for his hunters, and had ruined 
 himself and died. He had not quarrelled with 
 his mother — indeed nobody could quarrel with 
 Dermot — and he used to go over to see her, but he 
 would not live at home, and since he had been 
 at Biston I had never once met him till I saw him 
 run up to attack the lion, the only man in all 
 the fair except Harold who had courage to do 
 so ! I could not help my heart bounding at 
 the thought, and afterwards enjoying the talk 
 with him that I could not help. But then it 
 made me feel undutiful to my dear mother, and
 
 io6 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 then there was the further difficulty to be faced. 
 It would have been all very well to live with 
 my nephews if we had been in a desert island, 
 but I could not expect them not to make friends 
 of their own ; and if mine chose to drop me, how 
 would it be for me, at my age, all alone in the 
 house ? 
 
 Harold was forced to confess that he had 
 done too much that first day. His hand was 
 inflamed, and pain and weariness forbade all 
 thought of spending a long day from home ; and, 
 besides, there arrived letters by the morning's post 
 which left grave lines on his brow. 
 
 So Eustace drove off alone, a good deal 
 elated at such an expedition, and I took Harold 
 to my own little sitting-room, so despised by 
 Dora, for the convenience of bathing the flesh 
 wounds on the right hand, which, though really 
 the least injured, was a much greater torment 
 than the broken fingers, and had allowed him 
 very little sleep. 
 
 It was the first time he had been in the 
 room, and on the chimney-piece stood open a
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 107 
 
 miniature-case containing a portrait, by Thorburn, 
 of my little brother Percy, in loose brown holland. 
 Harold started as he came in, and exclaimed, 
 " Where did that come from ? " I told him, and 
 he exclaimed, " Shut it up, please," and sat down 
 with his back to it, resigning his hand to me, 
 and thanking me warmly when the fomentation 
 brought some relief, and when I asked if I could 
 do any more for him he seemed undecided, ex- 
 tracted some letters from his pocket with his 
 two-fifths of a hand, and sent Dora to his room 
 for his writing-case. I offered to write anything 
 for him, but he said, " Let me try," and then en- 
 deavoured ; but he found that not only did the 
 effort hurt him unbearably, but that he could 
 not guide the pen for more than a word or two ; 
 so he consented to make use of me, saying, how- 
 ever, " Dora, it is no use your staying in ; you 
 had better go out." 
 
 Dora, of course, wanted to stay ; but I devised 
 that she should go, under the escort of one of 
 the maids, to carry some broth to the wounded 
 boy, an expedition which would last her some
 
 io8 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 time, and which Harold enforced with all his 
 might as a personal favour, till she complied. 
 
 " Thank you," said Harold ; " you see this 
 must be done at once, or we shall have them 
 coming over here." 
 
 He gave me the sheet he had begun with 
 " Dear Mother," and went on dictating. It was 
 not at all after Julius C?esars fashion of dictating. 
 He sat with his eyes on his own letter, and 
 uttered one brief but ponderous sentence after 
 another, each complete in all its parts, and quite 
 unhesitating, though slowly uttered. I gathered 
 it up, wrote it down, said " Well," and waited 
 for more in silence, till, after I had looked at him 
 once or twice to see whether he were asleep or 
 in a reverie, another such sentence followed, and 
 I began to know him ver\' much better. 
 
 After saying " My hands have been lamed 
 for a few days, and my aunt is so good as to 
 write for me," he went on to say, in forcible and 
 not very affectionate terms, that " Smith must 
 not think of coming home ; Eustace could do 
 nothing for him there, but as long as the family
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 109 
 
 remained at Nelson their allowance should be 
 increased b\' one hundred pounds a year." I tilled 
 up an order, which he signed on a S}'dney bank 
 for the first quarter. " It must not be more," 
 he said, as he told me the sum, " or they will be 
 taking their passage with it." 
 
 " No more .' " I asked, when he prepared to 
 conclude this short letter. 
 
 "No. Smith reads all her letters." 
 
 "That is very hard on you." 
 
 " She meant to do well for me, but it was a 
 great mistake. If Smith comes home to prey 
 upon Eustace, it will be a bad business." 
 
 " But he has no claim on Eustace, whatever 
 he may think he has on you." 
 
 " He is more hkely to come now. He knows 
 he can get nothing out of me — " Then, as I looked 
 at the order, he added, " Beyond my mother's 
 rights. Poor mother ! " 
 
 I found that the schoolmaster had been 
 induced to marry Alice Alison in the expectation 
 that her share in the proceeds of Boola Boola 
 would be much larger than it proved to be. He
 
 no MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 had fawned on the two Eustaces, and obtained 
 all he could from the elder, but, going too far 
 at last, had been detected by the Sydney bank 
 in what amounted to an embezzlement. Prosecu- 
 tion was waived, and he was assisted to leave 
 Australia and make a fresh start in New Zealand, 
 whence he had never ceased to endeavour to gain 
 whatever he could from Boola Boola. He could 
 twist Eustace round his finger, and Harold, 
 though loathing and despising him, would do 
 anything for his mother, but was resolved, for 
 Eustace's sake, to keep them at a distance, as 
 could only be done by never allowing them a 
 sufficient sum at once to obtain a passage home, 
 and he knew the habits of Smith and his sons 
 too well to expect them to save it. In fact, the 
 letter before him, which he ended by giving me 
 to read, had been written by the poor woman 
 at her husband's dictation, in the belief that 
 Harold was the heir, to demand their passage- 
 money from him, and that there was a sad little 
 postscript put in afterwards, unknown to her tyrant. 
 "My boy, don't do it. It will be much better
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. iii 
 
 for you not ; " and, brave woman as she was, she 
 added no entreaty that his refusal might be 
 softened. I asked if she had had any more 
 children. " No, happily," was Harold's answer. 
 *' If I might only wring that fellows neck, I 
 could take care of her." In fact, I should think, 
 when he wanted to come within Harold's grasp, 
 he hardly knew what he asked. 
 
 This finished, it appeared that Harold 
 wanted to have a letter finished to Prometesky 
 which he had begun some days before. This 
 astonished me more, both by the questions Pro- 
 metesky had been asking, and the answers 
 Harold was returning, as to the state of the 
 country and the condition of the people. They 
 did much to relieve my mind of the fears 
 I had sometimes entertained of Harold's beine 
 a ferocious demagogue incited thereto by his 
 friend. 
 
 Who would have thought there was so much 
 depth in his brain 1 He ended by saying, "Eustace 
 takes kindly to his new position, and is gone to- 
 day to see Mr, Tracy, nephew to Lord Erymanth,
 
 112 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 but who does not appear disposed to carry on the 
 same hostihty to us." 
 
 I exclaimed at his having said nothing of the 
 lion either to his mother or his friend, and asked 
 leave to add it, which he did not refuse, though 
 saying there was no use in it, and that he 
 wanted me to do one thing more for him — namely, 
 to write to his agent in Sydney an order which 
 he signed for the transmission of some money to 
 England. He had learnt from Mr. Yolland that 
 morning that the " Dragon's Head " and some 
 adjoining houses at Mycening were for sale, and 
 that the purchaser could have immediate pos- 
 session. 
 
 " What are you going to do with it .'' " 
 
 " Shut it up." 
 
 " You can't do much good by shutting up one 
 public-house." 
 
 " Eustace will do the same with those on his 
 property." 
 
 " I am very much afraid your crusade will not 
 succeed, unless you can put something better into 
 people's minds."
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 113 
 
 " I shall see about that," he answered, thinking-, 
 I believe, that I was going to suggest religion, 
 from all mention of which he shrank, as if it 
 touched a wound. '' Smith talked of religion," 
 he once said, with a shudder. Besides, he was a 
 creature in the superabundance of all human 
 faculties to whom their exercise seemed for a 
 time all-sufficient, and the dark shade of horror 
 and remorse in the depths of his heart made 
 him unwilling to look back or think. At any 
 rate, he silenced me on that head ; but, thinking, 
 perhaps, that he had been unkindly blunt, he 
 resumed, " There is no risk for Eustace in this 
 acquaintance } " 
 
 In spite of the pang that smote me, I felt 
 that this was the only time I might have for 
 that Avord of warning which seemed incumbent 
 on me. " I do not think there is danger in his 
 going to-day, but it does seem right to tell you 
 that poor Dermot Tracy is said to be very extra- 
 vagant, and to lead a wild life. And Harold, 
 though I have known him all my life, I have 
 been thinking that it will not do for me to be 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 here, if this should become a resort of the set of 
 people he has made friends of" 
 
 Harold answered in his steady, grave way, 
 "I see. But, Lucy, I suppose none of them have 
 been so bad as I have been ?/' — rather as if he 
 were wondering over the matter. 
 
 " But you belong to me,'^ I answered, 
 and I saw a look of real pleasure meet my 
 smile. 
 
 " I wish I knew what was best for Eustace," 
 he said, after a few more moments' thought. " Is 
 it doing him harm for me to be here .'' I could 
 go back to New South Wales at once, only in 
 some ways I don't think the old fellow could get 
 on without me, till he is more used to it all,, 
 and in safe hands." 
 
 I had no hesitation in answering that Eustace 
 would be much worse off without his cousin, and 
 that the treatment we were receiving was chiefly 
 on account of the fathers of both, not personal to 
 Harold. 
 
 " Then you think it would not help him for 
 me to leave him } "
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 115 
 
 " I think he is far more hkely to live it down 
 with you to help him." 
 
 " But, Lucy, are you being given up by all 
 your friends for our sakes ? We did not know it 
 meant that when we asked you to stay with 
 us !" 
 
 " No more did I. But don't be uneasy about 
 that, Harold dear. Don't you think one's own 
 flesh and blood is more than all such friends .? " 
 
 " I should not have thought two fellows like 
 us could have been worth much to you," said 
 Harold, gravely pondering. " That pretty little 
 thing who was with you the night we came ; she 
 has never been here again. Don't you miss her .? " 
 
 " It is not her fault," I said. " Besides, nothing 
 is like the tie of blood." 
 
 I shall never forget the look that was in 
 
 Harold's eyes. I was standing over him, putting 
 
 some fresh warm water on his hand. He put 
 
 back his head and looked up earnestly in my 
 
 face, as if to see whether I meant it, then said, 
 
 " We are very thankful to you for thinking so." 
 
 I could not help bending and touching his 
 
 I 2
 
 ii6 AfV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 forehead with my hps. His eyes ghstened and 
 twinkled, but he said nothing for a httle space, 
 and then it was, " If any one hke you had been 
 out there " 
 
 I don't think I ever had a comphment that 
 gave me more pleasure, for there was somehow 
 an infinite sense of meaning in whatever Harold 
 said, however short it might be, as if his words 
 had as much force in them as his muscles. 
 
 After a good deal more of silent sponging 
 and some knitting of his brows, either from 
 thought or from pain, he said, "Then, as I un- 
 derstand, you cast in your lot with us, and give 
 us the blessing of your presence and care of poor 
 little Dora, to help to set Eustace in his proper 
 place in society. I see then that it is your due 
 that we should bring no one here of whom you 
 do not fully approve." 
 
 " It is not only a matter of approval," I ex- 
 plained. " There are many with whom I could 
 freely associate in general society, or if I had 
 any lady with me, whom I ought not to have 
 constantly here with only you two."
 
 THE LION OF NEME HEATH. 117 
 
 " England is different from the Bush," he an- 
 swered, and meditated for ten minutes more, for 
 no doubt it was the AustraHan practice to offer 
 free quarters to all comers without Mrs. Grundy, 
 who had hardly yet had her free passage. My 
 heart smote me lest I were acting unkindly for 
 her sake, but then surely I was saving my alle- 
 giance to my dead mother, and while I was 
 still thinking it ov^er, Harold said : 
 
 " You are more to us than any one could be ; 
 Eustace shall see the thing rightly, and while 
 you are good enough to make this our home, I 
 promise you that no one shall be invited here 
 but as you like." 
 
 It was a bold promise, especially as it turned 
 out that Eustace had been making large invita- 
 tions to the Arghouse fishing to Dermot Tracy 
 and some officer friends whom he had found at 
 Biston, and who seemed to have made them- 
 selves very pleasant. I bade Harold never mind 
 about that sort of invitation, as it need not affect 
 Dora or me, since we could keep out of the way 
 of it, being unconcerned with gentlemen's parties.
 
 ii8 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 Miss Woolmer said I had done right, and gave 
 us a general invitation to spend the evening with 
 her if Eustace wished to entertain his friends, 
 though she hinted, " Don^t be too ready to leave 
 the coast clear. Remember that you are a whole- 
 some check."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE "dragon's head." 
 
 Harold's right hand healed quickly, and was 
 free in a few days, but the left had to be kept 
 for some time in a sling, and be daily attended 
 to, though he heeded it but little, walking miles to 
 look at horses and to try them, for he could 
 manage them perfectly with one hand, and in this 
 way he saw a good deal of Dermot Tracy, who 
 exerted himself to find a horse to carry the mighty 
 frame. 
 
 The catastrophe at the fair had gained him two 
 friends, entirely unlike one another — Dermot, who 
 thenceforward viewed him with unvarying hero- 
 worship, and accepted Eustace as his appendage ; 
 and George Yolland, the very reverse of all
 
 I20 
 
 jyy YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 Dermot's high-bred form of Irishism, and careless, 
 easy self-indulgence. 
 
 A rough-hewn, rugged young man, intensely in 
 earnest, and therefore neither popular nor success- 
 ful was that young partner of Dr. Kingston. Had 
 Harold been squire, the resignation of the patient 
 into his hands would have been less facile ; but as 
 a mere Australian visitor, he was no prize, and 
 might follow his own taste if he preferred the 
 practitioner to whom club, cottage, and union 
 patients were abandoned. 
 
 By him Harold was let into those secrets of 
 the lower stratum of society he had longed to 
 understand. Attention to the poor boy who had 
 been torn by the lion brought him into the great 
 village of workmen's huts, that had risen up round 
 the Hydriot clay works on the Lerne. 
 
 These had been set up by a company about 
 eighteen years before, much against all our wills. 
 With Lord Erymanth at our head, we had opposed 
 with all our might the breaking up of the beautiful 
 moorland that ran right down into Mycening, and 
 the defilement of our pure and rapid Lerne ; but
 
 THE ''DRAGON'S HEADP 121 
 
 modern progress had been too strong for us. 
 Huge brick inclosures with unpleasant smoky- 
 chimneys had arisen, and around them a whole 
 colony of bare, ugly little houses, filled with 
 squalid women and children, little the better for 
 the men's wages when they were high, and now 
 that the Company was in a languishing state, 
 miserable beyond description. We county people 
 had simply viewed ourselves as the injured parties 
 by this importation, bemoaned the ugliness of the 
 erections, were furious at the interruptions to our 
 country walks, prophesied the total collapse of the 
 Company, and never suspected that we had any 
 duties towards the potters. The works were lin- 
 gering on, only just not perishing; the wages that 
 the men did get, such as they were, went in drink ; 
 the town in that quarter was really unsafe in the 
 evening ; and the most ardent hope of all the 
 neighbourhood was, that the total ruin constantly- 
 expected would lead to the migration of all the 
 wretched population. 
 
 Mr. Yolland, who attended most of their 
 sicknesses, used to tell fearful things of the
 
 122 MY YOUNG ALCWES. 
 
 misery, vice, and hardness, and did acts of 
 almost heroic kindness among them, which did 
 not seem consistent with what, to my grief and 
 dismay, was reported of this chosen companion 
 of Harold — that physical science had conducted 
 him into materialism. The chief comfort I had 
 was that Miss Woolmer liked him and opened 
 her house to him. She was one of the large- 
 hearted women who can see the good through 
 the evil, and was interested by contact with all 
 phases of thought ; and, moreover, the lad should 
 not be lost for want of the cjitj'-ee to something 
 like a home, because the upper crust of Mycening 
 considered him as " only Dr. Kingston's partner,^' 
 and the Kingstons themselves had the sort of 
 sense that he was too much for them which 
 makes a spider dislike to have a bluebottle in 
 his web. 
 
 She was interested, too, rather sadly in the 
 crusade without the cross that the two young men 
 were trying to undertake against the wretched- 
 ness of those potters. 
 
 It was much in their favour that the land-
 
 THE ''DRAGON'S HEAD." 123 
 
 lord, who was also the owner of the " Dragon's 
 Head/' was invited to join a brother in America 
 without loss of time, and Avas ready to sell and 
 give immediate possession ; so that Harry actually 
 owned it in a fortnight from first hearing of the 
 offer, having, of course, given a heavy price 
 for it. 
 
 The evening it came into his possession he 
 went down, and, standing at the door, tried to 
 explain why he had closed it, and why he could 
 not bear to see its frequenters spending their 
 Avages on degrading themselves and making their 
 homes miserable. In no mood for a temperance 
 harangue, the men drowned, or would have 
 drowned aught but his short incisive sentences, 
 in clamours for their beer, and one big bully 
 pushed forward to attack him. His left hand 
 was still in the sling, but with the other 
 he caught hold of the fellow by the collar, 
 and swung him over the side of the stone steps 
 as helpless as a puppy dog, shaking him till 
 his teeth chattered ere setting him on his 
 feet. " If you wish for any more," he said,
 
 124 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 " we'll have it out as soon as this hand is 
 well.'^ 
 
 That made them cheer him, and the fellow 
 slunk away ; while Harold, having gained a hear- 
 ing, told them that he meant to make the 
 former " Dragon^s Head '^ a place where they 
 might smoke, read the papers, play games, and 
 have any refreshment such as coffee, tea, or 
 ginger-beer, at which they hissed, and only one 
 or two observed, " I am sure you wishes us 
 well, sir." 
 
 It was a good-sized house, and he meant to 
 put in a steady couple to keep it, giving up 
 two upper rooms to make a laboratory for Mr. 
 Yolland, whose soul was much set on experi- 
 ments for which his lodgings gave him no space ; 
 but the very day when Harold opened his coffee- 
 rooms, as he went down the street, an " Original 
 Dragon's Head" and a "Genuine Dragon's Head" 
 grinned defiance at him, in the full glory of 
 teeth, fiery breath, and gilded scales, on the 
 other side of the way. I believe they had been 
 beershops before ; but, be that as it may, they
 
 THE ''DRAGON'S HEADP 125 
 
 devoured quite as many as their predecessor, 
 and though newspapers and draught-boards lay- 
 all about the place, they attracted onl}- two 
 clients ! 
 
 And the intended closing of all the beer- 
 houses on the Arghouse property, except the 
 time-honoured "Blue Boar" on the villasre crreen, 
 seemed likely to ha\e the same effect ; for the 
 notices to their holders, grimh' resisted by Bullock, 
 seemed only to cause dozens of householders to 
 represent the absolute need of such houses when- 
 ever they did not belong to us. 
 
 "To destroy one is to produce two," sighed 
 Harold. 
 
 " There's nothing to be done but to strike 
 at the root," I said. 
 
 " What's that .?" said Harold. 
 
 " Man's evil propensities," I said. 
 
 " Humph," said Harold. " If I could manage 
 the works now ! They say the shares are to be 
 had for an old song." 
 
 "Oh, Harr>^, doiit have anything to do with 
 them," I entreated. " They have ruined every
 
 126 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 creature who has meddled with them, and done 
 unmitigated mischief." 
 
 Harold made no answer, but the next day he 
 was greatly stimulated by a letter from Prometesky, 
 part of which he read to me, in its perfect 
 English, yet foreign idiom. 
 
 " I long to hear of the field of combat we 
 had to quit, because one party was too stolid, 
 the other too ardent. I see it all before me with 
 the two new champions freshly girded for the 
 strife, but a peaceful strife, my friend. Let 
 our experience be at least profitable to you, 
 and let it be a peaceful contention of emulation 
 such as is alone suited to that insular nation 
 which finds its strongest stimulus in domestic 
 comfort and wealth. Apropos, has some one 
 pursued a small discovery of mine, that^ had I 
 not been a stranger of a proscribed nation, and 
 had not your English earl and the esquires been 
 hostile to all save the hereditary plough, might 
 have found employment for thousands and pre- 
 vented the history of your fathers and of myself } 
 That bed of argillaceous deposit around the
 
 THE ''DRAGON'S HEAJD." 127 
 
 course of your Lerne, which I found to be of the 
 same quahty as the porcelain clay of Meissen, 
 does it still merely bear a few scanty blades of 
 corn, or is its value appreciated, and is it occupy- 
 ing hundreds of those who starved and were 
 discontented, to the great surprise of their respect- 
 able landlords ? I wonder whether a few little 
 figures that I modelled in the clay for specimens, 
 and baked in my hostess's oven, are still in 
 existence. The forms of clay were there. Alas ! 
 I asked in vain of your English magnates for the 
 fire from heaven to animate the earth, or rather 
 I would have brought it, and I suffered." 
 
 It was amusing to see how much delighted 
 honest Harold was with this letter, and how 
 much honoured he seemed by his dear old Pro- 
 metesky having spent so much time and thought 
 upon writing to him. It fired him with doubled 
 ardour to investigate the Hydriot Company, and 
 he could hardly wait till a reasonable hour the 
 next day. Then he took Eustace down with 
 him and returned quite talkative (for him) with 
 the discoveries he had made, from one of the
 
 128 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 oldest workmen \\\\o had become disabled from 
 the damp of working in the clay. 
 
 The Company had been set up by a clever 
 speculating- young attorney, but the old man 
 remembered that " that there foreign gentleman, 
 the same as was sent to foreign parts with the 
 poor young squires," was " always a-puddling 
 about in it ; and they did say as how he tried 
 to get my lord, and Squire Horsman, and Squire 
 Stympson to see to setting up summut there ; 
 but they wasn't never for 'speriments, and there 
 was no more talk of it not till that there young 
 Crabbe got hold, they say, of some little images 
 as he had made, and never rested till he had 
 got up the Company, and begun the works, having 
 drawn in by his enthusiasm half the tradesmen 
 and a few of the gentlemen of the place." 
 
 Three years of success ; then came a bad 
 manager ; young Crabbe struggled in vain to 
 set things right, broke down, and died of the 
 struggle ; and ever since the unhappy affair had 
 lingered on, starving its workmen, and just keep- 
 ing alive by making common garden pots and
 
 THE "DRAGON'S HEAD:' 129 
 
 pans and drain-tiles. Most people who could had 
 sold out of it, thanking the Limited Liabilities 
 for its doing them no further harm ; and the 
 small remnant only hung on because no one 
 could be found to give them even the absurdly- 
 small amount that was still said to be the value 
 of their shares. 
 
 That they would find now Harold had fallen 
 in with young Yolland, who had been singing 
 the old song, first of Prometesky, then of Crabbe, 
 and had made him listen to it. Five pounds 
 would now buy a share that used to be vv^orth a 
 hundred, and that with thanks from the seller 
 that he got anything from what had long ceased 
 to pay the ghost of a dividend. And loose cash 
 was not scarce with Harold ; he was able to buy 
 up an amount which perfectly terrified me, and 
 made me augur that the Hydriot would swallow 
 all Boola Boola, and more too ; and as to Mr. 
 Yolland's promises of improvements, no one, after 
 past experience, could believe in them. 
 
 "Now, Harold, you know nothing of all this 
 intricate business ; and as to these chemical 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 I30 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 agencies, I am sure you know nothing about 
 them." 
 
 "I shall learn." 
 
 "You will only be taken in," I went on in 
 my character as good aunt, "and utterly 
 ruined." 
 
 "No matter if I am." 
 
 " Only please, a.t least, don't drag in Eustace 
 and Arghouse." 
 
 " Eustace will only have five shares standing 
 in his name to enable him to be chairman." 
 
 "Five too many! Harold! I cannot see 
 why you involve yourself in all this. You are 
 well off! You don't care for these foolish hopes 
 of gain." 
 
 "I can't see things go so stupidly to 
 wrack." 
 
 The truth was that he saw in it a continua- 
 tion of Prometesky's work and his father's, so ex- 
 postulations were vain. He had been thoroughly 
 bitten, and was the more excited at finding that 
 Dermot and Viola Tracy were both shareholders. 
 Their father had been a believer in Crabbe, and
 
 THE ''DRAGON'S HEADr 131 
 
 had taken a good many shares, and these had 
 been divided between them at his death. They 
 could not be sold till they were of age, and by 
 the time Dermot was twenty-one, no one would 
 buy them ; and now, when they were recalled 
 to his mind, he would gladly have made Harold 
 a present of them, but Harold would not even 
 buy them ; he declared that he wanted Dermot's 
 vote, as a shareholder, to help in the majority; 
 and, in fact, the effective male shareholders on 
 the spot v\'ere only just sufficient to furnish 
 directors. Mr. Yolland bought two shares that 
 he might have a voice ; Eustace was voted into 
 the chair, and the minority was left to consist 
 of the greatly-soured representative of the original 
 Crabbe, and one other tradesman, who held on 
 for the sake, as it seemed, of maintaining ad- 
 herence to the red pots and pans, as, at any rate, 
 risking nothing. 
 
 Of course I hated and dreaded it all, and it 
 was only by that power which made it so hard 
 to say nay to Harold, that he got me down to 
 
 look at the very lair of the Hydriot Company. 
 
 K 2
 
 132 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 It was a melancholy place ; the buildings were 
 so much larger, and the apparatus so much 
 more elaborate than there was any use for ; and 
 there were so few workmen, and those so un- 
 healthy and sinister-looking. 
 
 I remember the great red central chimney with 
 underground furnaces all round, which opened like 
 the fiery graves where Dante placed the bad 
 Popes ; and how dreadfully afraid I was that Dora 
 would tumble into one of them, so that I was glad 
 to see her held fast by the fascination of the never- 
 superseded potter and his wheel fashioning the 
 clay, while Mr. Yolland discoursed and Harold 
 muttered assents to some wonderful scheme that 
 was to economise fuel — the rock on which this 
 furnace had split. 
 
 It has been explained to me over and over 
 again, and I never did more than understand it 
 for one moment, and if I did recollect all about 
 it, like a scientific dialogue, nobody would thank 
 me for putting it in here, so it will be enough 
 to say that it sounded to me very bewildering 
 and horribly dangerous, not so much to the body
 
 THE ''DRAGON'S HEAD." 133 
 
 as to the pocket, and I thought the Hydriot bade 
 fair to devour Boola Boola and Harold, if not 
 Arghouse and Eustace into the bargain. 
 
 They meant to have a Staffordshire man 
 down to act as foreman and put things on a 
 better footing. 
 
 " I'll write to my brother to send one," said 
 Mr. YoUand. " He's a curate in the Potteries ; has 
 a wonderful turn for this sort of thing." 
 
 " Have you a brother a clergyman } " I said, 
 rather surprised, and to fill up Harold's silence. 
 
 "Yes, my brother Ben. It's his first curacy, 
 and his two years are all but up. I don't know 
 if he will stay on. He's a right down jolly 
 good fellow is Ben, and I wish he would come 
 down here." 
 
 Neither of us echoed the wish. Harold had 
 no turn for clergymen after the specimen of Mr. 
 Smith ; and Mr. Yolland, though I could specify- 
 nothing against him but that he was rough and 
 easy, had offended me by joining us, when I 
 wanted Harold all to myself. Besides, was he 
 not deluding my nephews into this horrid Hy-
 
 134 ^^y YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 driot Company, of which they would be the 
 certahi victims ? 
 
 The Staffordshire man came, and the former 
 workmen looked very bitter on him. After a 
 meeting, in which the minority made many vehe- 
 ment objections, Eustace addressed the w^orkmen 
 in the yards — that is to say, he thought he did ; 
 but Harold and Mr. Yolland made his meaning 
 more apparent. A venture in finer workmanship, 
 imitating Etruscan ware, was to be made, and, if 
 successful, would much increase trade and profits, 
 and a rise in wages was offered to such as could 
 undertake the workmanship. Moreover, it was 
 held out to them that they might become the 
 purchasers of shares or half shares at the market 
 price, and thus have an interest in the concern, 
 whereat they sneered as at some new dodge of 
 the Company for taking them in. It did not seem 
 to me that much was done, save making Harry 
 pore over books and accounts, and run his hands 
 through his hair, till his thick curls stood up in 
 all directions. 
 
 And Miss Woolmer herself was sorry. She
 
 THE ''DRAGON'S HEAD:' 135 
 
 remembered the old story — nay, she had one of 
 Prometesky's own figures modelled in terra cotta, 
 defective, of course, as a work of art, but with 
 that fire that genius can breathe into the imper- 
 fect. She believed it had been meant for the 
 Hope of Poland. Alas ! the very name reminded 
 one of the old word for despair, " Wanhope." 
 But Harold admired it greatly, and both he 
 and George Yolland seemed to find inspiration 
 in it. 
 
 But one summer evening, when the young 
 men were walking up and down the garden, 
 smoking, we heard something that caused us to 
 look round for a thunder-cloud, though none could 
 be seen in the clear sky, and some quarter of an 
 hour after, Richardson hurried out to us with the 
 tidings, " I beg your pardon, sir, but there is a 
 person come up to say there has been an explo- 
 sion at the Hydriot works." 
 
 " Impossible ! " said Harold. " There's nothing 
 to explode ! " 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir, but it is Mr. Yolland 
 they say has blowed himself up with his experi-
 
 136 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 ments, and all the old "Dragon's Head" in Lerne 
 Street, and he is buried under the ruins. It is all 
 one mass of ruin, sir, and he under it." 
 
 Harold rushed off, without further word or 
 query, and Eustace after him, and I had almost 
 to fight to hold back Dora, and should hardly 
 have succeeded if the two had not disappeared 
 so swiftly that she could not hope to come up 
 with them. 
 
 I let her put on her things and come down 
 with me to the lodge-gate to watch. I was afraid 
 to go any farther, and there we waited, without 
 even the relief of a report, till we had heard the 
 great clock strike quarter after quarter, and were 
 expecting it to strike eleven, when steps came near 
 at last, and Eustace opened the gate. We threw 
 
 ourselves upon him, and he cried out with surprise, 
 then said, " He is alive ! " 
 
 " Who ! Harold } " 
 
 " Harold ! Nonsense. What should be the 
 matter with Harold } But he is going to stay 
 with him — Yolland I mean — for the night ! It 
 was all his confounded experiments. It was very
 
 THE ''DRAGON'S HEAD." 137 
 
 well that I went down — nothing was being done 
 without a head to direct, but they always know 
 what to be at when / come among them." 
 
 No one there knew the cause of the accident, 
 except that it had taken place in Mr. YoUand's 
 laboratory, where he had been trying experiments. 
 The house itself had been violently shattered, and 
 those nearest had suffered considerably. Happily, 
 it stood in a yard of its own, so that none adjoined 
 it, and though the fronts of the two opposite 
 "Dragon's Heads" had broken windows and torn 
 doors, no person within them had been more than 
 stunned and bruised. But the former "Dragon's 
 Head" itself had become a mere pile of stones, 
 bricks, and timbers. The old couple in charge 
 had happily been out, and stood in dismay over 
 the heap, which Harold and a few of the men 
 were trying to remove, in the dismal search for 
 Mr. Yolland and the boy he employed to assist 
 him. The boy was found first, fearfully burnt 
 about the face and hands, but protected from being 
 crushed by the boards which had fallen slant- 
 wise over him. And under another beam, which
 
 138 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 guarded his head, but rested on his leg, lay young 
 Yolland. 
 
 Harold's strength had raised the beam, and he 
 was drawn out. He revived as the night air 
 blew on his face, looked up as Harold lifted him, 
 said, " I have it,'' and fainted the next moment. 
 They had taken him to his lodgings, where Dr. 
 Kingston had set the broken leg and bound the 
 damaged rib, but could not yet pronounce on the 
 other injuries, and Harold had taken on himself 
 the watch for the night. 
 
 The explanation that we all held by was, that 
 the damage was caused by an officious act of 
 the assistant, who, perceiving that it was growing 
 dark, fired a match, and began to light the gas at 
 the critical moment of the experiment, by which 
 the means of obtaining the utmost heat at the 
 smallest expense of fuel was to be attained. It 
 was one of those senseless acts that no one would 
 have thought of forbidding ; and though the boy, 
 on recovering his senses, owned that the last thing 
 he remembered was getting the matches and Mr. 
 Yolland shouting to stop him, there were many
 
 THE ''DRAGON'S HE AD!' 139 
 
 who never would believe anything but that it 
 was blundering of his, and that he was a dan- 
 gerous and mischievous person to have in the 
 town. 
 
 Harold came home for a little while just as 
 we were having breakfast, to bring a report that 
 his patient had had a much quieter night than 
 he expected, and to say that he had telegraphed 
 for the brother and wanted Eustace to meet him 
 at the station. The landlady was sitting with 
 the patient now, and Harold had come home 
 for ice, strawberries, and, above all, to ask for 
 help in nursing, for the landlady could not, and 
 would not, do much. I mentioned a motherly 
 woman as, perhaps, likely to be useful, but 
 Harold said, " I could do best with Dora.^^ 
 
 He had so far learnt that it was not the 
 Bush as not to expect me to offer, and was 
 quite unprepared for the fire that Eustace and 
 I opened on him as to the impossibility of his 
 request. " Miss Alison, my sister,^^ as Eustace 
 said, "going down to a little, common, general 
 practitioner to Avait on him ; ^' while I confined
 
 140 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 myself to " It won't do at all, Harold/' and pro- 
 mised to hunt up the woman and to send her 
 to his aid. But when I had seen her, arranged 
 my housekeeping afifairs, and called Dora to 
 lessons, she was nowhere to be found. 
 
 " Then she has gone after Harold ! " indig- 
 nantly exclaimed Eustace. " It is too bad ! I 
 declare I will put a stop to it ! To have my 
 sister demeaning herself to put herself in such 
 a situation for a little Union doctor ! " 
 
 I laughed, and observed that no great harm 
 was done with so small a person, only I could 
 not think what use Harold could make of her; 
 at which Eustace was no less surprised, for a 
 girl of eight or nine was of no small value in 
 the Bush, and he said Dora had been most 
 helpful in the care of her father. But his dignity 
 Avas so much outraged that he talked big of 
 going to bring her home — only he did not go. I 
 was a little wounded at Harold having taken her 
 in the face of my opposition, but I found that 
 that had not been the case, for Eustace had 
 walked to the lodge with him, and she had
 
 THE ''DRAGON'S HEADr 141 
 
 rushed after and joined him after he was in the 
 town. And at luncheon Eustace fell on mc \vith 
 entreaties that I would come with him and help 
 him meet " this parson," whom he seemed to 
 dread unreasonably, as, in fact, he always did 
 shrink from doing anything alone when he could 
 get a helper. I thought this would be, at least, 
 as queer as Dora's nursing of the other brother ; 
 but it seemed so hard for the poor man, coming 
 down in his anxiety, to be met by Eustace 
 either in his vague or his supercilious mood, 
 that I consented at last, so that he might have 
 someone of common sense, and walked down with 
 him. 
 
 We could not doubt which was the right 
 passenger, when a young clergyman, almost as 
 rough-looking as his brother, and as much bearded, 
 but black where he was yellow, sprang out of a 
 second-class with anxious looks. It was I who 
 said at one breath, " There he is ! Speak to him, 
 Eustace ! Mr. YoUand — he is better — he will do 
 
 well " 
 
 "Thank— thank you " And the hat was
 
 142 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 pushed back, with a long breath ; then, as he 
 only had a little black bag to look after, we 
 all walked together to the lodgings, while the 
 poor man looked bewildered and unrealising under 
 Eustace's incoherent history of the accident — a 
 far more conjectural and confused story than it 
 became afterwards. 
 
 I waited till Harold came down with Dora ; 
 and to my " How could you ? " and Eustace's 
 more severe and angry blame, she replied, " He 
 wanted me ; so of course I went." 
 
 Harold said not a word in defence of her or 
 of himself; but when I asked whether she had 
 been of any use, he said, smiling affectionately 
 at her, "Wasn't she?" 
 
 Then we went and looked at the shattered 
 houses, and Harold showed us where he had 
 drawn out his poor friend, answering the ag- 
 grieved owners opposite that there would be 
 an inquiry, and means would be found for com- 
 pensation. 
 
 And when I said, " It is a bad beginning 
 for the Hydriot plans ! " he answered, " I don't
 
 THE ''DRAGON'S HEAD:' 143 
 
 know that," and stood looking at the ruins 
 of his " Dragon's Head " in a sort of brown 
 study, till we grew impatient, and dragged him 
 home.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE WRATH OF DIANA. 
 
 Harold did not like clergymen. " Smith was a 
 clergyman," he said, with an expressive look ; 
 and while George Yolland had his brother and 
 the nurse I had sent, he merely made daily 
 inquiries, and sometimes sat an hour with his 
 friend. 
 
 Mr. Crosse's curate had kindred in Stafford- 
 shire, and offered to exchange a couple of 
 Sundays with Mr. Benjamin Yolland, and this 
 resulted in the visitor being discovered to have 
 a fine voice and a great power of preaching, 
 and as he was just leaving his present parish, 
 this ended in Mr. Crosse begging him to remain 
 permanently, not much to Harold's gratification ;
 
 THE WRATH OF DIANA. 145 
 
 but the two brothers were all left of their family, 
 and, different as their opinions were, they were 
 all in all to each other. 
 
 The agreement with Mr. Crosse would hardly 
 have been made, had the brothers known all that 
 was coming. George Yolland was in a strange 
 stupefied state for the first day or two, owing, it 
 was thought, to the effects of the gas ; but he 
 revived into the irritable state of crankiness which 
 could not submit in prudent patience to Dr. 
 Kingston's dicta, but argued^ and insisted on his 
 own treatment of himself, and his own theory of 
 the accident, till he as good as told the doctor 
 that he w^as an old woman. Whether it were in 
 consequence or not, I don't know, but as soon as 
 Dr. Kingston could persuade himself that a shock 
 would do no harm, he wrote a polite letter ex- 
 plaining that the unfortunate occurrence from 
 which Mr. Yolland was suffering had so destroyed 
 the confidence of his patients, that he felt it due 
 to them to take steps to dissolve the partner- 
 ship. 
 
 Perhaps it was no wonder. Such things were 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 told and believed, that those who had never yet 
 been attended by George Yolland believed him 
 a wild and destructive theorist. Miss Avice 
 Stympson asked Miss Woolmer how she could 
 sleep in her bed when she knew he was in the 
 town, and the most astonishing stories of his 
 practice were current, of which I think the 
 mildest was, that he had pulled out all a poor 
 girl's teeth for the sake of selling them to a 
 London dentist, and that, when in a state of 
 intoxication, he had cut off a man's hand, because 
 he had a splinter in his finger. 
 
 However, the effect was, that Harold sum- 
 moned a special meeting of the shareholders, the 
 same being nearly identical with the Directors of 
 the Hydriot Company, and these contrived to 
 get George Yolland, Esquire, appointed chemist 
 and manager of the works, with a salary of jQjQ 
 per annum, to be increased by a percentage on 
 the sales ! Crabbe objected vehemently, but was 
 in the minority. The greater number were 
 thoroughly believers in the discovery made on that 
 unlucky night, or else were led away by that
 
 THE WRATH OF DIANA. 147 
 
 force of Harold's, which was almost as irresistible 
 by mind, as by matter. But the tidings were 
 received with horror by the town. Three nervous 
 old ladies who lived near the Lerne eave notice 
 to quit, and many declared that it was an indict- 
 able offence. 
 
 Small as the salary was, it was more than 
 young Yolland was clearing by his connection 
 with Dr. Kingston ; and as he would have to 
 spare himself during the next few months, and 
 could not without danger undertake the exertions 
 of a wide field of Union practice, the offer was 
 quite worth his acceptance. Moreover, he had 
 the enthusiasm of a practical chemist, and would 
 willingly have starved to see his invention carried 
 out, so he received the appointment with the 
 gruff gratitude that best suited Harold ; and 
 he and his brother were to have rooms in the 
 late "Dragon's Head," so soon as it should 
 have been rebuilt on improved principles, with a 
 workman's hall below, and a great court for the 
 children to play in by day and the lads in the 
 evening. 
 
 L 2
 
 148 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 Of the clerical Yolland we saw and heard 
 very little. Harold was much relieved to find 
 that even before his brother could move beyond 
 the sofa, he was always out all day, for though 
 he had never spoken a word that sounded official^ 
 Harold had an irrational antipathy to his black 
 attire. Nor did I hear him preach, except by 
 accident, for Arghouse chapelry was in the beat 
 of the other curate, and in the afternoon, when I 
 went to Mycening old church, he had persuaded 
 Mr. Crosse to let him begin what was then a 
 great innovation — a children's service, with open 
 doors, in the National School-room. Miss Woolmer 
 advised me to try the effect of this upon Dora, 
 whose Sundays were a constant perplexity and 
 reproach to me, since she always ran away into 
 the plantations or went with Harold to see the 
 horses ; and if we did succeed in dragging her 
 to church, there behaved in the most unedifying 
 manner. 
 
 " I don't like the principle of cutting religion 
 down for children," said my old friend. " They 
 ought to be taught to think it a favour to be
 
 THE WRATH OF DIANA. 149 
 
 admitted to grown-up people's services, and learn 
 to follow them, instead of having everything made 
 to please them. It is the sugar-plum system, and 
 so I told ]\Ir. Ben, but he says you must catch 
 wild heathens with sugar ; and as I am afraid 
 your poor child is not much better, you had better 
 try the experiment." 
 
 I did try it, and the metrical litany and the 
 hymns happily took Dora's fancy, so that she 
 submitted to accompany me whenever Harold was 
 to sit with George Yolland, and would not take 
 her. 
 
 One afternoon, when I was not well, I was 
 going to send her with Colman, and Harold 
 coming in upon her tempest of resistance, and 
 trying to hush it, she declared that she would 
 only go if he did, and to my amazement he 
 yielded and she led him off in her chains. 
 
 He made no comment, but on the next 
 Sunday I found him pocketing an immense 
 parcel of sweets. He walked into the town with 
 us, and when I expected him to turn off to his 
 friend's lodging, he said, " Luc}-, if you prefer the
 
 I50 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 old church, I'll take Dora to the school. I like 
 the little monkeys." 
 
 He went, and he went again and again^ 
 towering among the pigmies in the great room, 
 kneeling when they knelt, adding his deep bass 
 to the curate's in their songs, responding with 
 them, picking up the sleepy and fretful to sit on 
 his knee during the little discourse and the 
 catechising ; and then, outside the door, solacing 
 himself and them with a grand distribution of 
 ginger-bread and all other dainty cakes, especially 
 presenting solid plum buns, and even mutton pies, 
 where there were pinched looks and pale faces. 
 
 It was delightful, I have been told, to see 
 him sitting on the low wall with as many children 
 as possible scrambling over him, or sometimes 
 standing up, holding a prize above his head, to 
 be scrambled for by the lesser urchins. It had 
 the effect of rendering this a highly popular 
 service, and the curate was wise enough not to 
 interfere Avith this anomalous conclusion to the 
 service, but to perceive that it might both bless 
 him that eave and those that took.
 
 THE WRATH OF DIANA. 151 
 
 In the early part of the autumn, one of the 
 little members of the congregation died, and was 
 buried just after the school service. Harold did 
 not know of it, or I do not think he would have 
 been present, for he shrank from whatever re- 
 newed the terrible agony of that dark time in 
 Australia. 
 
 But the devotions in the school were full of 
 the thought, the metrical litany was one specially 
 adapted to the occasion, so was the brief address, 
 which dwelt vividly, in what some might have 
 called too realising a strain, upon the glories 
 and the joys of innocents in Paradise. And, 
 above all, the hymns had been chosen with special 
 purpose, to tell of those who — 
 
 For ever and for ever 
 Are clad in robes of white. 
 
 I knew nothing of all this, but when I came 
 home from my own church, and went to my own 
 sitting-room, I was startled to find Harold there, 
 leaning over the table, with that miniature of 
 little Percy, which, two months before, he had
 
 152 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 bidden me shut up, open before him, and the 
 tears streaming down his face. 
 
 In great confusion he muttered, " I beg your 
 pardon," and fled away, dashing his handker- 
 chief over his face. I asked Dora about it, but 
 she would tell nothing ; I believe she was half 
 ashamed, half jealous, but it came round through 
 Miss Woolmer, how throughout the address 
 Harold had sat with his eyes fixed on the 
 preacher, and one tear after another gathering 
 in his eyes. And when the concluding hymn 
 was sung — one specially on the joys of Paradise — ■ 
 he leant his forehead against the wall, and could 
 hardly suppress his sobs. When all was over, 
 he handed his bag of sweets to one of the Sun- 
 day-school teachers, muttering " Give them," and 
 strode home. 
 
 From that time I believe there never was a 
 day that he did not come to my sitting-room to 
 gaze at little Percy. He chose the time when I 
 was least likely to be there, and I knew it well 
 enough to take care that the coast should be left 
 clear for him. I do believe that, ill-taught and
 
 THE WRATH OF DIANA. 153 
 
 unheeding as the poor dear fellow had been, that 
 service was the first thing that had borne in upon 
 him any sense that his children were actually 
 existing, and in joy and bliss ; and that when 
 he had once thus hearkened to the idea, that 
 load of anguish, which made him wince at the 
 least recollection of them, was taken off. It was 
 not his nature to speak in the freshness of emotion, 
 and, after a time, there was a seal upon his feel- 
 ings ; but there was an intermediate period when 
 he sometimes came for sympathy, but that was 
 so new a thing to him that he did not quite know 
 how to seek it. 
 
 It was the next Sunday evening that I came 
 into my room at a time I did not expect him to 
 be there, just as it was getting dark, that he 
 seemed to feel some explanation due. " This 
 picture," he said, "it is so hke my poor little 
 chap." 
 
 Then he asked me how old Percy had been 
 when it was taken ; and then I found myself 
 listening, as he leant against the mantelpiece, to 
 a minute description of poor little Ambrose, all
 
 154 MV YOUNG A LCI DBS. 
 
 the words he could say, his baby plays, and his 
 ways of welcoming and clinging to his father, 
 even to the very last, when he moaned if anyone 
 tried to take him out of Harold's arms. It seemed 
 as though the dark shadow and the keen sting 
 had somehow been taken away by the assurance 
 that the child might be thought of full of enjoy- 
 ment ; and certainly, from that time, the peculiar 
 sadness of Harold's countenance diminished. It 
 was always grave, but the air of oppression went 
 away. 
 
 I said something about meeting the child 
 again, to which Harold replied, " You will, may 
 be.^^ 
 
 " And you, Harold.'^ And as he shook his 
 head, and said something about good people, I 
 added, " It would break my heart to think you 
 would not,^'' 
 
 That made him half smile in his strange, 
 sad way, and say, " Thank you, Lucy ; ^' then 
 add, " But it's no use thinking about it ; Tm 
 not that sort.'^ 
 
 "But you are, but you are, Harold V I remem-
 
 THE WRATH OF DIANA. 155 
 
 ber crying out with tears. " God has made you 
 to be nobler, and greater, and better than any 
 of us, if you only would '^ 
 
 " Too late,'' he said. " After all I have been, 
 and all I have done " 
 
 " Too late ! Harry — with a whole lifetime 
 before you to do God real, strong service in.'"' 
 
 " It won't ever cancel that " 
 
 I tried to tell him what had cancelled all ; 
 but perhaps I did not do it well enough, for he 
 did not seem to enter into it. It was a terrible 
 disadvantage in all this that I had been so 
 slightly taught. I had been a fairly good girl, 
 I believe, and my dear mother had her sweet, 
 quiet, devotional habits ; but religion had always 
 sat, as it were, outside my daily life. I should 
 have talked of "performing my religious duties" 
 as if they were a sort of toll or custom to be 
 paid to God, not as if one's whole life ought to 
 be one religious duty. That sudden loss, which 
 left me alone in the world, made me, as it were, 
 realise who and what my Heavenly Father was 
 to me; and I had in my loneliness thought more
 
 156 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 of these things, and was learning more every 
 day as I taught Dora ; but it was dreadfully 
 shallow, untried knowledge, and, unfortunately, I 
 was the only person to whom Harold would talk 
 Mr. Smith's having been a clergyman had given 
 him a distaste and mistrust of all clergy ; nor 
 do I think he was quite kindly treated by those 
 around us, for they held aloof, and treated him 
 as a formidable stranger with an unknown ill 
 repute, whose very efforts in the cause of good 
 were untrustworthy. 
 
 I thought of that mighty man of Israel whom 
 God had endowed with strength to save His 
 people, and how all was made of little avail 
 because his heart was not whole with God, and 
 his doings were self-pleasing and fitful. Oh ! that 
 it might not be thus with my Harold .^ Might not 
 that little child, who had for a moment opened 
 the gates to him, yet draw him upwards where 
 naught else would have availed } 
 
 As to talking to me, he did it very seldom, 
 but he had a fashion of lingering to hear me 
 teach Dora, and I found that, if he were absent,
 
 THE WRATH OF DIANA. 157 
 
 he always made her tell him what she had 
 learnt ; nor did he shun the meeting me over 
 Percy's picture in my sitting-room in the twilight 
 Sunday hour. Now and then he asked me to 
 find him some passage in the Bible which had 
 struck him in the brief instruction to the children 
 at the service, but what was going on in his 
 mind was entirely out of my reach or scope ; 
 but that great strength and alertness, and keen, 
 vivid interest in the world around, still made the 
 present everything to him. I think his powerful- 
 ness, and habit of doing impossible things, made 
 the thought of prayer and dependence — nay, even 
 of redemption — more alien to him, as if weak- 
 ness were involved in it ; and though to a cer- 
 tain extent he had, with Prometesky beside him, 
 made his choice between virtue and vice beside 
 his uncle's death-bed ; yet it was as yet but the 
 Stoic virtue of the old Polish patriot that he had 
 embraced. 
 
 And yet he was not the Stoic. He had far 
 more of the little child, the Christian model in 
 his simplicity, his truth, his tender heart, and that
 
 158 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 grand modesty of character which, though natural, 
 is the step to Christian humihty. How one longed 
 for the voice to say to him, " The Lord is with 
 thee, thou mighty man of valour." 
 
 And so time went on, and we were still in 
 solitude. People came and went, had their season 
 in London and returned, but it made no differ- 
 ence to us. Dermot Tracy shot grouse, came home 
 and shot partridges, and Eustace and Harold 
 shared their sport with him, though Harold found 
 it dull cramped work, and thought English gentle- 
 men in sad lack of amusement to call that sport. 
 Lady Diana and Viola went to the seaside, and 
 came back, and what would have been so much to 
 me once was nothing now. Pheasant shooting had 
 begun and I had much ado to prevent Dora from 
 joining the shooting parties, not only when her 
 brother and cousin were alone, but when they were 
 going to meet Mr. Tracy and some of the officers 
 to whom he had introduced them. 
 
 On one of these October days, when I was 
 trying to satisfy my discontented Dora by a game 
 at ball upon the steps, to my extreme astonish-
 
 THE WRATH OF DIANA. 159 
 
 ment I beheld a white pony, led by Harold, and 
 seated on the same pony, no other than my 
 dear little friend, unseen for four months, Viola 
 Tracy ! 
 
 I rushed, thinking some accident had happened, 
 but Harold called out in a tone of exultation, 
 " Here she is ! Now you are to keep her an hour," 
 and she held out her arms with " Lucy, Lucy, 
 dear old Lucy ! " and jumped down into mine. 
 
 " But Viola, your mother " 
 
 " I could not help it," she said with a laughing 
 light in her eyes. " No, indeed, I could not. I 
 was riding along the lane by Lade Wood, on my 
 white palfrey, when in the great dark glade 
 there stood one, two, three great men with guns, 
 and when one took hold of the damsel's bridle 
 and told her to come with him, what could she 
 do } " . 
 
 I think I said something feeble about " Harold, 
 how could you.'" but he first shook his head, 
 and led off the pony to the stable, observing, 
 " ni come for you in an hour," and Dora rushing 
 after him.
 
 i6o 3fV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 And when I would have declared that it was 
 very wrong, and that Lady Diana would be very 
 angry, the child stopped my ^ mouth with, 
 " Never mind, I've got my darling Lucy for an 
 hour, and I can't have it spoilt." 
 
 Have I never described my Viola ? She was 
 not tall, but she had a way of looking so, and 
 she was not pretty, yet she always looked prettier 
 than the prettiest person I ever saw. It was 
 partly the way in which she held her head and 
 long neck, just like a deer, especially when she 
 was surprised, and looked out of those great 
 dark eyes, whose colour was like that of the lakes 
 of which each drop is clear and limpid, and yet, 
 when you look down into the water, it is of a 
 wonderful clear deep grey. 
 
 Those eyes were her most remarkable feature ; 
 her hair was light, her face went off suddenly 
 into rather too short a chin, her cheeks wanted 
 fulness, and were generally rather pale. So people 
 said, but plump cheeks would have spoilt my 
 Viola's air, of a Avild, half-tamed fawn, and 
 lessened the wonderful play of her lips, which
 
 THE WRATH OF DIANA. i6i 
 
 used often to express far more than ever came 
 out of them in words. Lady Diana had done 
 her utmost to suppress demonstrativeness, but 
 unless she could have made those eyes less trans- 
 parent, the corners of that mouth less flexible, 
 and hindered the colour from mantling in those 
 cheeks, she could not have kept Viola's feelings 
 from being patent to all who knew her. 
 
 And now the child was really lovely, with 
 the sweet carnation in her cheeks, and eyes 
 dancing with the fear and pretence at alarm, 
 and the delight of a stolen interview with 
 me. 
 
 " Forth stepped the giant ! Fee ! fo ! fum ! " 
 said she ; " took me by the bridle, and said, ' Why 
 haven't you been to see my Aunt Lucy 1 ' 
 
 " ' I must not,' she said. 
 
 "'And I say you must,' he answered. 'Do 
 you know she is wearying to see you } ' " 
 
 Then I fancy how Viola's tears would swim 
 in her eyes as she said, " It's not me ; it's mamma." 
 And he answered, "Now, it is not you, but I, 
 that is taking you to see her." 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 1 62 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 " Should auld acquaintance be forgot ! " was 
 whistled out of the wood ; and the whistle Viola 
 knew quite well enough to disarm me when I 
 came to the argument what was to become of 
 her if she let such things be done with her; and 
 she had quite enough of Dermot's composition 
 in her to delight in a "little bit of naughtiness 
 that wasn't too bad," and when once she had 
 resigned herself into the hands of her captor 
 she enjoyed it, and twittered like a little bird ; 
 and I believe Harold really did it, just as he 
 would have caught a rare bird or wild fawn, to 
 please me. 
 
 " Then you were not frightened ? " I said. 
 
 " Frightened ? No. It Avas such fun ! Besides^ 
 we heard how he mastered the lion to save that 
 poor little boy, and how he has looked after 
 him ever since, and is going to bind him appren- 
 tice. Oh, mind you show me his skin — the lion's, 
 I mean. Don't be tiresome, Lucy. And how he 
 g-oes on after the children's service with the dear 
 little things. I should think him the last person 
 to be afraid of."
 
 THE WRATH OF DIANA. 163 
 
 " I wish your mother saw it so." 
 
 Viola put on a comically wise look, and shook 
 her head, as she said, "You didn't go the right 
 way to work. If you had come back in the 
 carriage, and consulted her, and said it was a 
 mission — yes, a mission — for you to stand, with 
 a lily in your hand, and reform your two bush- 
 ranger nephe\\'s, and that you wanted her consent 
 and advice, then she would have let you go back 
 and be good aunt, and what-not. Oh, I wish 
 you had, Lucy ! That was the way Dermot 
 managed about getting the lodge at Biston. He 
 says he could consult her into going out hunting." 
 
 " For shame, Viola ! O fie ! O Vi ! " said I, 
 according to an old formula of reproof 
 
 "Really, I wanted to tell you. It might not 
 be too late if you took to consulting her now ; 
 and I can't bear being shut up from you. Every- 
 thing is grown so stupid. When one goes to a 
 garden-party there are nothing but Horsmans 
 and Stympsons, and they all get into sets of 
 themselves and each other, and now and then 
 coalesce, especially the Stympsons, to pity poor 
 
 M 2
 
 1 64 ^^^y YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 ]Miss Alison, wonder at her not taking mamma's 
 advice, and say how horrid it is of her to hve 
 with her cousins. I've corrected that so often 
 that I take about with me the word 'nephews' 
 written in large text, to confute them, and I've 
 actually taught Cocky to say, ' Nephews aren't 
 cousins.' Dermot is the only rational person in 
 the neighbourhood. I'm always trying to get 
 him to tell me about you, but he says he can't 
 come up here much without giving a handle to 
 the harpies." 
 
 I had scarcely said how good it was in Dermot, 
 when he sauntered in. " There you are, Vi ; I'm 
 come to your rescue, you know," he said, in his 
 lazy way, and disposed himself on the bear-skin 
 as we sat on the sofa. I tried again to utter a 
 protest. " Oh Dermot, it was all your doing." 
 
 " That's rather too bad. As if I could control 
 your domestic lion-tamer." 
 
 '' You abetted him. You could have prevented 
 him." 
 
 " Such being your wish." 
 
 " I am thinking of your mother.' 
 
 . a
 
 THE WRATH OF DIANA. 165 
 
 " Eh, Viola, is the meeting worth the reckon- 
 
 ing ? " 
 
 " You should not teach her your own bad 
 ways," said I, resisting her embrace. 
 
 " Come, we had better be off, Dermot," she 
 said, pouting ; " we did not come here to be 
 scolded." 
 
 " I thought you did not come of your own 
 free will at all," I said, and then I found I had 
 hurt her, and I had to explain that it was the 
 disobedience that troubled me ; whereupon they 
 both argued seriously that people were not bound 
 to submit to a cruel and unreasonable prejudice 
 which had set the country in arms against us. 
 " Monstrous," Dermot said, " that two fellows 
 should suffer for their fathers' sins, and such 
 fellows, and you too for not being unnatural to 
 your own flesh and blood." 
 
 "But that does not make it right for Viola 
 to disobey her mother." 
 
 " And how is it to be. Lucy t " asked Viola. 
 "Are we always to go on in this dreadful 
 way :
 
 1 66 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 By this time Eustace could no longer be with- 
 held from paying" his respects to the lady guest, 
 and Harold and Dora came with him, bringing 
 the kangaroo, for which Viola had entreated ; and 
 she also made him fetch the lion-skin, "which had 
 been dressed and lined and made into a beautiful 
 carriage-rug ; and to Dora she owed the exhibition 
 of the great scar across Harold's left palm, which, 
 though now no inconvenience, he would carry 
 through life. It was but for a moment, for as 
 soon as he perceived that Dora meant anything 
 more than her usual play with his fingers, he 
 coloured and thrust his hand into his pocket. 
 
 We all walked through the grounds with 
 Viola, and when we parted she hung about my 
 neck and assured me that now she had seen me 
 she should not grieve half so much, and, let mamma 
 say what she would, she could not be sorry ; and 
 I had no time to fight over the battle of the 
 sorrow being for wrongdoing, not for reproof, for 
 ■the pony would bear no more last words. 
 
 Eustace had behaved all along with much 
 politeness ; in fact, he was always seen to most
 
 THE WRATH OF DIANA. 167 
 
 .advantage with strangers, for his manners had 
 some training, and a httle constraint was good 
 for him by repressing some of his sayings. His 
 first remark, when the brother and sister were out 
 of hearing, was, " A very sweet, hvely young lady. 
 I never saw her surpassed in Sydney ! " 
 
 " I should think not," said Harold. 
 
 "Well, you know I have been presented and 
 have been to a ball at Government House, 
 There's an air, a toimmi'e about her, such as uncle 
 Smith says belongs to the real aristocracy ; and 
 you saw she was quite at her ease with me. 
 We understand each other in the higher orders. 
 Don't be afraid, Lucy, we shall yet bring back 
 your friend to you." 
 
 " I'm glad she is gone," said Dora, true to her 
 jealousy. " I like Dermot ; he's got some sense 
 in him, but she's not half so nice and pretty as 
 Lucy." 
 
 At which we all laughed, for I had never had 
 any attempt at beauty, except, I believe, good 
 hair and teeth, and a habit of looking good- 
 liumoured.
 
 1 68 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 " She's a tip-topper," pronounced Eustace, " and 
 no wonder, considering who she is. Has she 
 been presented, Lucy ? " 
 
 Though she had not yet had that inestimable 
 advantage, Eustace showed himself so much struck 
 with her that, when next Harold found himselt 
 alone with me, he built a very remarkable castle 
 in the air— namely, a wedding between Eustace 
 and Viola Tracy. " If I saw him with such hap- 
 piness as that," said Harold, " it would be all 
 right. I should have no fears at all for him. 
 Don't you think it might be, Lucy .'' " 
 
 " I don't think you took the way to recom- 
 mend the family to Lady Diana," I said, laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 " I had not thought of it then," said Harold ; 
 " I'm always doing something wrong. I wonder 
 if I had better go back and keep out of his 
 way ? " 
 
 He guessed what I should answer, I believe, 
 for I was sure that Eustace would fail without 
 Harold, and I told him that his cousin must not 
 be left to himself till he had a good wife. To
 
 THE WRATH OF DIANA. 169 
 
 which Harold rephed, " Are all English ladies like 
 that?" 
 
 He had an odd sort of answer the next day, 
 when we were all riding together, and met another 
 riding party — namely, the head of the Horsman 
 family and his two sisters, who had been on the 
 Continent when m}- nephews arrived. Mamma 
 did not like them, and we had never been great 
 friends ; but the}- hailed me quite demonstratively 
 with their eager, ringing voices : " Lucy ! Lucy 
 Alison! So glad to see you! Here we are again. 
 Litroduce us, pra\-." 
 
 So I did. Mr. Horsman, Miss Hippolyta, and 
 Miss Philippa Horsman — Baby Jack, Hippo, and 
 Pippa, as they were commonly termed — and we 
 all rode together as long as we were on the Roman 
 road, while they conveyed, rather loudly, informa- 
 tion about the Dolomites. 
 
 They were five or six years older than I, and 
 the recollection of childish tyranny and compul- 
 sion still made me a little afraid of them. They 
 excelled in all kinds of sports in which we 
 younger ones had not had nearly so much prac-
 
 lyo MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 tice, and did not much concern themselves whether 
 the sport were mascuhne or feminine, to the dis- 
 tress of the quiet elder half-sister, who stayed at 
 home, like a hen with ducklings to manage. 
 
 They spoke of calling, and while I could not 
 help being grateful, I knew how fallen my poor 
 mother would think me to welcome the notice of 
 Pippa and Hippo. 
 
 Most enthusiastic was the latter as she rode 
 behind with me, looking at the proportions of 
 Harry and his horse, some little way on before, 
 with Dora on one side, and Pippa rattling on 
 the other. 
 
 " Splendid ! Splendiferous ! More than I was 
 prepared for, though I heard all about the lion 
 — and that he has been a regular stunner in Aus- 
 tralia — eh, Lucy, just like a hero of Whyte-Mel- 
 ville's, eh t " 
 
 " I don't think so." 
 
 " And, to complete it all, what has he been 
 doing to little Viola Tracy .'' Oh, what fun ! 
 Carrying her off bodily to see you, wasn't it ? 
 Lady Diana is in such a rage as never was — says
 
 THE WRATH OF DIANA. 171 
 
 Dermot is never to be trusted with his sister 
 again, and won't let her go beyond the garden 
 without her. Oh, the fun of it ! I would have 
 gone anywhere to see old Lady Di's face ! "
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE CAPTURE IX THE SNOW. 
 
 I DO not recollect anything- happening for a good 
 while. Our chief event was the perfect success of 
 Mr. Yolland's concentrated fuel, which did not 
 blow up anything or anybody, and the production 
 of some lovel}' Etruscan vases and tiles, for which 
 I copied the designs out of a book I happily dis- 
 covered in the library. They were sent up to the 
 porcelain shops in London, and orders began to 
 come in, to the great exultation of Harold and 
 Co., an exultation which I could not help par- 
 taking, even while it seemed to me to be plunging 
 him deeper and deeper in the dangerous specu- 
 lation. 
 
 We put the vases into a shop in the town,
 
 THE CAPTURE IX THE SNOW. 173 
 
 and wondered they did not sell ; but happily 
 people at a distance were kinder, and native genius 
 was discovered in a youth, who soon made beau- 
 tiful desicjns. But I do not think the revived 
 activity of the unpopular pottery did us at that 
 time any good with our neighbours. 
 
 Harold and Eustace sent in their subscrip- 
 tions to the hunt and were not refused, but there 
 were rumours that some of the Stympsons had 
 threatened to withdraw. 
 
 I had half a mind to ride with them to the 
 meet, but I could not tell who would cut me, and 
 I knew the mortification would be so keen to 
 them that I could not tell how they would behave, 
 and I was afraid Eustace's pride in his scarlet 
 coat might be as manifest to others as to us, and 
 make me blush for him. So I kept Dora and 
 myself at home. 
 
 I found that by the management of Dermot 
 Tracy and his friends, the slight had been less 
 apparent than had been intended, when all the 
 other gentlemen had been asked in to ^Ir. St}'mp-. 
 son's to breakfast, and they had been left out with
 
 174 -^'i'^y YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 the farmers ; Dermot had so resented this that he 
 had declined going into the house, and ridden to 
 the village inn with them. 
 
 To my surprise, Eustace chose to go on hunt- 
 ing, because it asserted his rights and showed he 
 did not care ; and, besides, the hard riding was 
 almost a necessity to both the young men, and 
 the Foling hounds, beyond Biston, were less ex- 
 clusive, and they were welcomed there. I believe 
 their horsemanship extorted admiration from the 
 whole field, and that they were gathering acquaint- 
 ance, though not among those who were most 
 desirable. The hunting that was esteemed hard 
 exercise here was nothing to them. They felt 
 cramped and confined even when they had had 
 the longest runs, and disdained the inclosures 
 they were forced to respect. I really don't know 
 what Harold would have done but for Kalydon 
 Moor, where he had a range without inclosures 
 of some twelve miles. I think he rushed up 
 there almost every day, and thus kept himself in 
 health, and able to endure the confinement of our 
 civilised life.
 
 THE CAPTURE IN THE SNOW. 175 
 
 A very hard winter set in unusually early, 
 and with a great deal of snow in December. It 
 was a great novelty to our Australians, and was 
 not much relished by Eustace, who did not enjoy 
 the snow-balling and snow fortification in which 
 Harold and Dora revelled in front of the house 
 all the forenoon. After luncheon, when the 
 snowstorm had come on too thickly for Dora to 
 go out again, Harold insisted on going to see 
 how the world looked from the moor. I en- 
 treated him not to go far, telling him how easy 
 it was to lose the way when all outlines were 
 changed in a way that would baffle even a black 
 fellow ; but he listened with a smile, took a plaid 
 and a cap and sallied forth. I played at shuttle- 
 cock for a good while with Dora, and then at 
 billiards with Eustace ; and when evening had 
 closed darkly in, and the whole outside world was 
 blotted out with the flakes and their mist, I began 
 to grow a little anxious. 
 
 The hall was draughty, but there was a huge 
 wood fire in it, and it seemed the best place to 
 watch in, so there we sat together, and Eustace
 
 176 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 abused the climate and I told stones — dismal ones, 
 I fear — about sheep and shepherds, dogs and 
 snowdrifts, to the tune of that peculiar howl that 
 the Avind always makes when the blast is snow 
 laden ; and dinner time came, and I could not 
 make up my mind to go and dress so as to be 
 out of reach of — I don't know Avhat I expected 
 to happen. Certainly what did happen was far 
 from anything I had pictured to myself. 
 
 Battling with the elements and plunging in 
 the snow, and seeing, whenever it slackened, so 
 strange and new a world, was a sort of sport to 
 Harold, and he strode on, making his goal the 
 highest point of the moor, whence, if it cleared 
 a little, he would be able to see to a vast distance. 
 He was curious, too, to look down into the railway 
 cutting. This was a sort of twig from a branch 
 of the main line, chiefly due to Lord Erymanth, 
 who, after fighting off the railway from all points 
 adjacent to his estate, had found it so inconvenient 
 to be without a station within reasonable distance, 
 that a single line had at last been made from 
 Mycening for the benefit of the places in this
 
 THE CAPTURE IN THE SNOW. 177 
 
 direction, but not many trains ran on it, for it 
 was not much frequented. 
 
 Harold came to the brow of the cutting", and 
 there beheld the funnel of a locomotive engine, 
 locomotive no more, but firmly embedded in the 
 snowdrift into which it had run, with a poor little 
 train of three or four carriages behind it, alread}' 
 half buried. Not a person was to be seen, as 
 Harold scrambled and slid down the descent and 
 lighted on the top of one of the carriages; for, as 
 it proved, the engineer, stoker, and two or three 
 passengers had left the train an hour before, and 
 were struggling along the line to the nearest 
 station. Harold got down on the farther side, 
 which was free of snow, and looked into all the 
 carriages. No one was there, till, in a first-class 
 one, he beheld an old gentleman, well wrapped up 
 indeed, but numb, stiff, and dazed with the sleep 
 out of which he was roused. 
 
 " Tickets, eh .-* '^ he said, and he dreamily held 
 one out to Harold and tried to get up, but he 
 stumbled, and hardly seemed to understand when 
 Harold told him it Avas not the station, but that 
 
 VOL. I. " N
 
 1 78 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 they had run into the snowdrift ; he only mut- 
 tered something about being met, staggered for- 
 ward, and fell into Harold's arms. There was a 
 carriage-bag on the seat, but Harold looked in 
 vain there for a flask. The poor old man was 
 hardly sensible. 
 
 Ours was the nearest house, and Harold saw 
 that the only chance for the poor old gentle- 
 man's life was to carry him home at once. 
 Even for him it was no small effort, for his bur- 
 then was a sturdy man with the solidity of years, 
 and nearly helpless, save that the warmth of 
 Harold's body did give him just life and instinct 
 to hold on, and let himself be bound to him 
 with the long plaid so as least to impede his 
 movements ; but only one possessed of Harold's 
 almost giant strength could have thus clambered 
 the cutting at the nearest point to Arghouse and 
 plodded through the snow. The only wonder is 
 that they were not both lost. Their track was 
 marked as long as that snow lasted by mighty 
 holes. 
 
 It was at about a quarter-past seven that
 
 THE CAPTURE IN THE SNOW. 179 
 
 g . 
 
 all the dogs barked, a fumbling was heard at 
 the door, and a muffled voice, " Let me in." 
 
 Then in stumbled a heap of snow, panting, 
 and amid Spitz's frantic barks, we saw it was 
 Harold, bent nearly double by the figure tied to 
 him. He sank on his knee, so as to place his 
 burthen on the great couch, gasping, " Untie 
 me," and as I undid the knot, he rose to his 
 feet, panting heavily, and, in spite of the cold, 
 bathed in perspiration. 
 
 " Get something hot for him directly," he 
 said, falling back into an arm-chair, while we 
 broke out in exclamations. " Who — where did 
 you find him } Some poor old beggar. Not 
 too near the fire — call Richardson — hot brandy- 
 and-water — bed. He's some poor old beggar," 
 and such outcries for a moment or two, till 
 Harold, recovering himself in a second, explained, 
 " Snowed up in the train. Here, Lucy, Eustace, 
 rub his hands. Dora, ask Richardson for some- 
 thing hot. Are you better now, sir } " beginning 
 to pull off the boots that he might rub his feet; 
 
 but this measure roused the traveller, who resisted, 
 
 N 2
 
 I So MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 crying out, "Don't, don't, my good man, I'H 
 revv^ard }'Ou handsomely. I'm a justice of the 
 peace." 
 
 Thick and stifled as it was, the voice was 
 famihar. I looked again, and screamed out, " Lord 
 Erymanth, is it you .'* " 
 
 That roused him, and as I took hold of both 
 hands and bent over him, he looked up, dazzled 
 and muttering, " Lucy, Lucy Alison ! Arghouse ! 
 How came I here.''" and then as the hot cordial 
 came at last, in the hand of Richardson, who 
 had once been in his service, he swallowed it, 
 and then leant back and gazed at me as I went 
 on rubbing his hands. " Thank you, my dear- 
 Is it you } I thought I was snowed up, and I 
 have never signed that codicil about little Viola, 
 or I could die easily. It is not such a severe 
 mode, after all." 
 
 " But you're not dying, you're only dreaming. 
 You are at Arghouse. Harold here found you 
 and brought you to us." 
 
 And then we agreed that he had better be 
 put to bed at once in Eustace's room, as there
 
 THE CAPTURE IN THE SNOW. i8i 
 
 was already a fire there, and any other would 
 take long- in being warmed. 
 
 Harold and Eustace got him upstairs between 
 them, and Richardson followed, while I looked 
 out with dismay at the drifting snow, and wondered 
 how to send either for a doctor or for Lady Diana 
 in case of need. He had been a childless widow^er 
 for many years, and had no one nearer belonging 
 to him. Dora expressed her amazement that I 
 did not go to help, but I knew this would have 
 shocked him dreadfully, and I only sent Colman 
 to see whether she could be of any use. 
 
 Harold came out first, and on his way to get 
 rid of his snow-soaked garments, paused to tell 
 me that the old gentleman had pretty well come 
 round, and was being fed with hot soup and Avine, 
 while he seemed half asleep. " He is not frost- 
 bitten," added Harold ; " but if he is likely to 
 want the doctor, I'd better go on to Mycening 
 at once, before I change my things." 
 
 But I knew Lord Erymanth to be a hale, 
 strong man of his years, little given to doctors, 
 and as I heard he had said " No, no," when
 
 1 82 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 Eustace proposed to send for one, I was glaid 
 to negative the proposal from a man already- 
 wet through and tired — "well, just a little." 
 
 Our patient dropped asleep almost as soon 
 as he had had his meal, in the very middle of a 
 ceremonious speech of thanks, which sent Eustace 
 down to dinner more than ever sure that there 
 was nothing like the aristocracy, who all under- 
 stood one another ; and we left Richardson to 
 watch over him, and sleep in the dressing-room 
 in case of such a catastrophe as a rheumatic 
 waking in the night. 
 
 We were standing about the fire in the hall, 
 our usual morning waiting-place before breakfast, 
 and had just received Richardson's report that 
 his lordship had had a good night, seemed none 
 the worse, and would presently appear, but that 
 he desired we would not wait breakfast, when 
 there was a hasty ring at the door, and no 
 sooner was it opened than Dermot Tracy, bat- 
 tered and worn, in a sou'-wester sprinkled with 
 snow and with boots up to his thighs, burst into 
 the hall.
 
 THE CAPTURE IN THE SNOW. 183 
 
 "Alison, you there ? All right, I want you," 
 shaking hands in an agitated way all round, 
 and speaking very fast with much emotion. " I 
 want you to come and search for my poor uncle. 
 He ^\-as certainly in the train from Mycening that 
 ran into a drift. Men went to get help ; couldn't 
 get back for three hours. He wasn't there — 
 never arrived at home. My mother is in a 
 dreadful state. Hogg is setting all the men to 
 dig at the Erymanth end. I've got a lot to begin 
 in the Kalydon cutting ; but you'll come, Alison, 
 you'll be worth a dozen of them. He might be 
 alive still, you see." 
 
 " Thank you, Dermot, I am happy to say 
 that such is the case," said a voice from the oak 
 staircase, and down it was slowly proceeding 
 Lord Erymanth, as trim, and portly, and well 
 brushed-up as if he had arrived behind his two 
 long-tailed bays. 
 
 Dermot, with his eyes full of tears, which he 
 was squeezing and winking away, and his rapid, 
 broken voice, had seen and heard nothing in our 
 faces or exclamations to prepare him. He started
 
 1 84 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 violently and sprang forward, meeting Lord Ery- 
 manth at the foot of the stairs, and wringing 
 both his hands — nay, I almost thought he would 
 have kissed him, as he broke out into some in- 
 coherent cry of scarcely-believing joy, which per- 
 haps surprised and touched the old man. " There, 
 there, Dermot, my boy, your solicitude is — is 
 honourable to you ; but restrain — restrain it, my 
 dear boy — -we are not alone." And he advanced, 
 a little rheumatically, to us, holding out his hand 
 with morning greetings. 
 
 " I must send to my mother. Joe is here 
 with the sleigh," said Dermot. " Uncle, how did 
 you come here .' " he added, as reflection only 
 made his amazement profounder. 
 
 " It is true, as you said just now, that Mr. 
 Harold Alison is equal to a dozen men. I owe 
 my preservation, under Providence, to him," said 
 Lord Eiymanth, who, though not a small man, 
 had to look far up as Harold stood towering above 
 us all. "My most earnest acknowledgments are 
 due to him," he added, solemnly holding out 
 his hand.
 
 THE CAPTURE IN THE SAOJp: 185 
 
 " I might have expected that ! " ejaculated 
 Dermot, while Harold took the offered hand 
 with a smile, and a mutter in his beard of " I 
 am very glad." 
 
 " I'll just send a line to satisfy my mother," 
 said Dermot, taking a pen from the inkstand on 
 the hall-table. " Joe's here with the sleigh, and 
 we must telegraph to George St. Glear." 
 
 Lord Erymanth repeated the name in some 
 amazement, for he was not particularly fond of 
 his heir. 
 
 " Hogg telegraphed to him this morning," and 
 as the uncle observed, " Somewhat premature," 
 he went on: "Poor Hogg was beside himself; 
 he came to Arked at ten o'clock last night to 
 look for you, and, luckily, I was there, so we've 
 been hallooing half the night along the line, and 
 then getting men together in readiness for the 
 search as soon as it was light. I must be off to 
 stop them at once. I came in to get the Alisons' 
 help — never dreamt of such a thing as finding 
 you here. And, after all, I don't understand — 
 how did you come ? "
 
 i86 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 " I cannot give you a detailed account," said 
 his lordship. " Mr. Harold Alison roused me 
 from a drowsiness which might soon, veiy pro- 
 bably, have been fatal, and brought me here. I 
 have no veiy distinct recollection of the mode, 
 and I fear I must have been a somewhat helpless 
 and encumbering burthen." 
 
 Dora put in her oar. " Harry can carry any- 
 thing," she said ; " he brought you in so nicely 
 on his back — ^just as I used to ride." 
 
 " On his back ! '' 
 
 "Yes,^^ said Dora, who was fond of Mr. Tracy, 
 and glad to impart her information, " on his 
 back, with his boots sticking out on each side, so 
 funnily ! " 
 
 Lord Erymanth endeavoured to swallow the 
 information suavely by the help of a classical 
 precedent, and said, w^ith a gracious smile, " Then 
 I perceive w^e must have played the part of ^Eneas 
 
 and Anchises " But before he had got so 
 
 far, the idea had been quite too much for Dermot, 
 who cried out, " Pick-a-back ! With his boots 
 sticking out on both sides ! Thank you, Dora.
 
 THE CAPTURE IN THE SNOW. 187 
 
 Oh ! my uncle, pick-a-back ! " and went off in an 
 increasing, uncontrollable roar of laughter, while 
 Harold, with a great tug to his moustache, ob- 
 served apologetically to Lord Erymanth, " It was 
 the only way I could do it," which speech had 
 the effect of so prolonging poor Dcrmot's mirth, 
 that all the good effect of the feeling he had 
 previously displayed for his uncle was lost, and 
 Lord Erymanth observed, in his most dry and 
 solemn manner, " There are some people who 
 can see nothing but food for senseless ridicule in 
 the dangers of their friends." 
 
 " My dear Lord Erymanth," I said, almost 
 v/ild, " do just consider Dermot has been up all 
 night, and has had nothing to eat, and is immensely 
 relieved to find you all safe. He can't be expected 
 to quite know what he is about when he is so 
 shaken. Come to breakfast, and we shall all be 
 better." 
 
 "That might be a very sufficient excuse for 
 you or for Viola, my dear Lucy," returned Lord 
 Erymanth, taking, however, the arm I offered. 
 " Young ladies may be very amiably hysterical,
 
 1 88 xMY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 but a young man, in my day, who had not 
 trifled away his manliness, would be ashamed of 
 such an excuse/' 
 
 There was a certain truth in what he said. 
 Dermot was not then so strong, nor had he the 
 self-command he would have had, if his life had 
 been more regular ; but he must always have had 
 a much more sensitive and emotional nature than 
 his uncle could ever understand. The reproach, 
 however, sobered him in a moment, and he fol- 
 lowed us gravely into the dining-room, without 
 uttering a word for the next quarter of an hour ; 
 neither did Harold, who was genuinely vexed at 
 having made the old man feel himself ridiculous, 
 and was sorry for the displeasure with his friend. 
 Nobody did say much except Eustace, who was 
 delighted at having to play host to such distin- 
 guished guests, and Lord Erymanth himself, who 
 was so gracious and sententious as quite to restore 
 Dermot's usual self by the time breakfast was 
 over, and he saw his servant bringing back his 
 sleigh, in which he offered to convey his uncle 
 either home or to Arked. But it was still fit-
 
 THE CAPTURE IN THE SNOW. 189 
 
 fully snowing, and Lord Erymanth was evidently 
 not without touches of rheumatism, which made 
 him lend a willing ear to our entreaties to him 
 not to expose him.self. Harold then undertook 
 to go in search of his portmanteau either to the 
 scene of the catastrophe or the Hall. 
 
 " My dear sir, I could not think of exposing 
 you to a repetition of such inclement Aveather as 
 you have already encountered. I am well supplied 
 here, my young friend — -I think I may use the 
 term, considering that two generations ago, at 
 least, a mutual friendship existed between the 
 houses, which, however obscured for a time — 
 hum — hum — hum — -may be said still to exist 
 towards my dear friend's very amiable young 
 daughter ; and although I may have regretted as 
 hasty and premature a decision that, as her oldest 
 and most experienced — I may say paternal — 
 friend, I ventured to question — -you will excuse 
 my plain speaking ; I am. always accustomed to 
 utter my sentiments freely — yet on better acquaint- 
 ance — brought about as it was in a manner which, 
 however peculiar, and, I may sa}^ unpleasant —
 
 I90 J/F YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 cannot do otherwise than command my perpetual 
 gratitude — I am induced to revoke a verdict, 
 uttered, perhaps, rather with a view to the ante- 
 cedents than to the individuals, and to express 
 a hope that the ancient family ties may again 
 assert themselves, and that I may again address 
 as such Mr. Alison of Arghouse." 
 
 That speech absolutely cleared the field of 
 Harold and Dermot both. One strode, the other 
 backed, to the door, Dermot hastily said, " Good- 
 bye then, uncle, I shall look you up to-morrow, 
 but I must go and stop George St. Glear," and 
 Harold made no further ceremony, but departed 
 under his cover. 
 
 Probably, Richardson had spoken a word or 
 two in our favour to his former master, for, when 
 Lord Erymanth was relieved from his nephew's 
 trying presence, he was most gracious, and his 
 harangues, much as they had once fretted me, 
 had now a familiar sound, as proving that we 
 were no longer " at the back of the north wind," 
 while Eustace listened with rapt attention, both 
 to the long words and to anything coming from
 
 THE CAPTURE IN THE SNOW. 191 
 
 one whose name was enrolled in his favourite 
 volume ; who likewise discovered in him like- 
 nesses to generations past of Alisons, and seemed 
 ready to admit him to all the privileges for which 
 he had been six months pining. 
 
 At the first opportunity, Lord Erymanth 
 began to me, " My dear Lucy, it is a confession 
 that to some natures may seem humiliating, but 
 I have so sedulously cultivated candour for my 
 whole term of existence, that I hope I may 
 flatter myself that I am not a novice in the great 
 art of retracting a conclusion arrived at under 
 promises which, though probable, have proved to 
 be illusory. I therefore freely confess that I ha\-e 
 allowed probability to weigh too much with me 
 in my estimation of these young men." I almost 
 jumped for joy as I cried out that I knew he 
 would think so when he came to know them. 
 
 " Yes, I am grateful to the accident that has 
 given me the opportunity of judging for myself," 
 quoth Lord Erymanth, and with a magnanimity 
 which I was then too inexperienced to perceive, 
 he added, " I can better estimate the motives
 
 ic)2 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 which made you decide on fixing your residence 
 with your nephews, and I have no reluctance in 
 declaring them natural and praiseworthy." I 
 showed my satisfaction in my old friend's forgive- 
 ness, but he still went on : " Still, my dear, you 
 must allow me to represent that your residence 
 here, though it is self-innocent, exposes you to 
 unpleasant complications. I cannot think it well 
 that a young lady of your age should live 
 entirely Avith two youths without female society, 
 and be constantly associating with such friends 
 as they may collect round them." 
 
 I remember now how the unshed tears burnt 
 in my eyes as I said the female society had left 
 me to myself, and begged to know with whom 
 I had associated. In return I heard something 
 that filled me with indignation about his nephew, 
 Dermot Tracy, not being exactly the companion 
 for an unchaperoned young lady, far less his 
 sporting friends, or that young man who had been 
 Dr. Kingston's partner. He was very soriy for 
 me, as he saw my cheeks flaming, but he felt it 
 rio"ht that I .should be aware. I told him how I 
 
 o
 
 THE CAPTURE IN THE SNOW. 193 
 
 had guarded myself — never once come across 
 the sportsmen, and only seen Mr. Yolland pro- 
 fessionally when he showed me how to dress 
 Harold's hand, besides the time Avhen he went 
 over the pottery with us. Nay, Dermot himself 
 had only twice come into my company — once 
 about his sister, and once to inquire after Harold 
 after the adventure with the lion. 
 
 There I found I had alluded to what made 
 Lord Erymanth doubly convinced that I must be 
 blinded ; my sight must be amiably obscured, as 
 to the unfitness — he might say, the impropriety 
 of such companions for me. He regretted all 
 the more where his nephew was concerned, but 
 it was due to me to warn, to admonish, me of 
 the true facts of the case. 
 
 I did not see how I could want any admo- 
 nition of the true facts I had seen with my own 
 eyes. 
 
 He was intensely astonished, and did not 
 
 know how to believe that I had actually seen 
 
 the lion overpowered ; whereupon I begged to 
 
 know what he had heard. He was very unwilling 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 to tell mc, but it came out at last that Dermot 
 and Harold— being", he feared, in an improperly 
 excited condition — had insisted on going to the 
 den with the keeper, and had irritated the animal 
 by wanton mischief, and he was convinced that 
 this could not have taken place in my pre- 
 sence. 
 
 I was indignant beyond measure. Had not 
 Dermot told him the true story t He shook his 
 head, and was much concerned at having to say 
 so, but he had so entirely ceased to put any con- 
 fidence in Dermot's statements that he preferred 
 not listening to them. And I knew it was vain 
 to try to show him the difference between deli- 
 berate falsehood, which was abhorrent to Dermot^ 
 and the exaggerations and mystifications to which 
 his uncle's solemnity always prompted him. I 
 appealed to the county paper ; but he had been 
 abroad at the time, and had, moreover, been told 
 that the facts had been hushed up. 
 
 Happily, he had some trust in my veracity,, 
 and let me prove my perfect alibi for Harold 
 as well as for Dermot. When I represented how
 
 THE CAPTURE IN THE SNOW. 195 
 
 those two were the only men among some hun- 
 dreds who had shown either courage or coohiess, 
 he granted it with the words, '' True, true. Of 
 course, of course. That's the way good blood 
 shows itself. Hereditary qualities are sure to 
 manifest themselves." 
 
 Then he let me exonerate Harold from the 
 charge of intemperance, pointing out that not 
 even after the injury and operation, nor after 
 yesterday's cold and fatigue, had he touched any 
 liquor ; but I don't think the notion of teetotalism 
 was gratifying, even when I called it a private, 
 individual vow. Nor could I make out whether 
 his Australian life was known, and I was afraid 
 to speak of it, lest I should be betraying what 
 need never be mentioned. Of Viola's adventure, 
 to my surprise, her uncle did not make much, 
 but he had heard of that from the fountain-head, 
 unpolluted by Stympson gossip ; and, moreover, 
 Lady Diana had been so disproportionately angry 
 as to produce a reaction in him. Viola was his 
 darling, and he had taken her part when he had 
 
 found that she knew her brother was at hand. 
 
 2
 
 196 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 He allowed, too, that she might fairly be inspired 
 with confidence by the voice and countenance of 
 her captor, whom he seemed to view as a good- 
 natured giant. But even this was an advance on 
 " the prize-fighter,^' as Lady Diana and the 
 Stympsons called him. 
 
 It was an amusing thing to hear the old earl 
 moralising on the fortunate conjunction of circum- 
 stances, which had brought the property, contrary 
 to all expectation, to the most suitable individual. 
 Much did I long for Harold to return and show 
 what he was, but only his lordship's servant^ 
 letters, and portmanteau came on an improvised 
 sleigh. He had an immense political, county, 
 and benevolent correspondence, and was busied 
 with it all the rest of the day. Eustace hovered 
 about reverentially and obligingly, and secured 
 the good opinion which had been already partly 
 gained by the statement of the police at the 
 Quarter Sessions, whence Lord Erymanth had 
 been returning, that they never had had so few 
 cases from the Hydriot potteries as during this 
 last quarter. Who could be complimented upon
 
 THE CAPTURE IN THE SNOW. 197 
 
 this happy state of things save the chairman ? 
 And who could appropriate the compliment more 
 readily or with greater delight ? Even I felt that 
 it would be cruel high treason to demonstrate 
 which was the mere chess king. 
 
 Poor Eustace ! Harold had infected me enough 
 with care for him to like to see him in such glory, 
 though somewhat restless as to the appearances of 
 this first state dinner of ours, and at Harold's 
 absence ; but, happily, the well-known step was in 
 the hall before our guest came downstairs, and 
 Eustace dashed out to superintend the toilette 
 that was to be as worthy of meeting with an 
 earl as nature and garments would permit. " Fit 
 to be seen 1 " I heard Harold growl. " Of course 
 I do when I dine with Lucy, and this is only an 
 old man." 
 
 Eustace and Richardson had disinterred and 
 brushed up Harold's only black suit (ordered as 
 mourning for his wife, and never worn but at 
 his uncle's funeral) ; but three years' expansion of 
 chest and shoulder had made it pinion him so as 
 to lessen the air of perfect ease which, without
 
 198 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 being what is called grace, was goodly to look 
 upon. Eustace's studs were in his shirt, and the 
 unnatural shine on his tawny hair too plainly re- 
 vealed the perfumeries that crowded the young 
 squire's dressing-table. With the purest intentions 
 of kindness Eustace had done his best to disguise 
 a demigod as a lout. 
 
 We had a diner a la Russc, to satisfy Eustace's 
 aspirations as to the suitable. I had been seeking 
 resources for it all the afternoon and building up 
 erections with Richardson and Colman ; and when 
 poor Harold, who had been out in the snow with 
 nothing to eat since breakfast, beheld it, he ex- 
 claimed, " Lucy, why did you not tell me 1 I 
 could have gone over to Mycening and brought 
 you home a leg of mutton." 
 
 " Don't expose what a cub you are ! " muttered 
 the despairing Eustace. " It is a deena a la 
 Roos." 
 
 " I thought the Russians ate blubber," ob- 
 served Harold, somewhat unfeelingly, though I 
 don't think he saw the joke ; but I managed to 
 reassure him, sotto voce, as to there being some-
 
 THE CAPTURE IN THE SNOW. 199 
 
 thing solid in the background. He was really 
 ravenous, and it was a little comedy to see the 
 despairing contempt Avith which he regarded the 
 dainty little mouthfuls that the cook viewed 
 with triumph, and Eustace in equal misery at his 
 savage appetite ; while Lord Erymanth, far too 
 real a gentleman to be shocked at a man's eating 
 when he was hungry^ was quite insensible of the 
 by-play until Harold, reduced to extremity at 
 sight of one delicate shaving of turkey's breast, 
 burst out, " I say, Richardson, I must have some 
 food. Cut me its leg, please, at once ! " 
 
 " Harry," faintly groaned Eustace, while Lord 
 Erymanth observed, " Ah ! there is no such 
 receipt for an appetite as shooting in the snow. 
 I remember when a turkey's leg would have 
 been nothing to me, after being out duck-shooting 
 in Kalydon Bog. Have you been there to-day^.'' 
 There would be good sport." 
 
 "No," said Harold, contented at last with 
 the great leg, which seemed in the same pro- 
 portion to him as a chicken's to other men. " I 
 have been getting sheep out of the snow."
 
 2 00 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 I elicited from him that he had, in making 
 his way to Erymanth, heard the barking of a 
 dog, and found that a shepherd and his flock 
 had taken refuge in a hollow of the moor, which 
 had partly protected them from the snow, 
 but whence they could not escape. The 
 shepherd, a drover who did not know the 
 locality, had tried with morning light to find 
 his way to help, but, spent and exhausted, would 
 soon have perished, had not Harold been 
 attracted by the dog. After dragging him to 
 the nearest farm, Harold left the man to be 
 restored by food and fire, while performing his 
 own commission at the castle, and then returned 
 to spend the remainder of the daylight hours 
 in helping to extricate the sheep, and convey 
 them to the farmyard, so that only five had been 
 lost. 
 
 " An excellent, not to say a noble, manner 
 of spending a winter's day," quoth the earl. 
 
 " I am a sheep farmer myself," was the 
 reply. 
 
 Lord Erymanth really wanted to draw him
 
 THE CAPTURE IN THE SNO]V. 201 
 
 out, and began to ask about Australian stock- 
 farming-, but Harold's slowness of speech left 
 Eustace to reply to everything, and when once 
 the rage of hunger was appeased, the harangues 
 in a warm room after twenty miles' walk in the 
 snow, and the carrying some hundreds of sheep 
 one by one in his arms, produced certain nods 
 and snores which were no favourable contrast with 
 Eustace's rapt attention. 
 
 For, honestly, Eustace thought these speeches 
 the finest things he had ever heard, and though 
 he seldom presumed to understand them, he 
 listened earnestl}-, and even imitated them in a 
 sort of disjointed way. Now Lord Erymanth, if 
 one could manage to follow him, was always 
 coherent. His sentences would parse, and went 
 on uniform principles — namely the repeating every 
 phrase in finer words, with all possible quali- 
 fications ; whereas Eustace never accomplished 
 more than catching up some sonorous period ; 
 but as his manners were at their best when he 
 was overawed, and nine months in England had 
 so far improved his taste that he did not once
 
 202 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 refer to his presentation at Government House, 
 he made such an excellent impression that Lord 
 Erymanth announced that he was going to give 
 a ball to introduce his niece, Miss Tracy, on her 
 seventeenth birthday, in January, and invited us 
 all thereto. 
 
 Eustace's ecstacy was unbounded. He tried 
 to wake Harold to share it, but only produced 
 some murmurs about half-inch bullets : only when 
 the " Good-night" came did Harold rouse up, and 
 then, of course, he was wide awake ; and while 
 Eustace w^as escorting the distinguished guest to 
 his apartment, we stood over the hall fire, enjoying 
 his delight, and the prospect of his being righted 
 with the county. 
 
 " And you will have your friends again, Lucy," 
 added Harold. 
 
 " Yes, I don't suppose Lady Diana will hold 
 out against him. He will prepare the way." 
 
 "And," said Eustace, coming downstairs, "it 
 is absolutely necessary that you go and be mea- 
 sured for a dress suit, Harry." 
 
 " I will certainly never get into this again,"
 
 THE CAPTURE IN THE SNOW. 203 
 
 he said, Avith a thwarted sigh ; " it's all I can 
 do to help splitting it down the back. You must 
 get it off as you got it on/' 
 
 " Not here ! '' entreated Eustace, alarmed at 
 his gesture. " Remember the servant. Oh Harold, 
 if you could but be more the gentleman ! Why 
 cannot you take example by me, instead of over- 
 throwing all the advantageous impressions that 
 such— such a service has created. I really think 
 there's nothing he would not do for me. Don't 
 you think so, Lucy } " 
 
 " Could he do anything for Prometesky ? " 
 asked Harold. 
 
 "He cotdd, more than anyone," I said; "but 
 I don't know if he would." 
 
 " I'll see about that." 
 
 "Now, Harold," cried Eustace in dismay, 
 "don't spoil everything by offending him. Just 
 suppose he should not send us the invita- 
 tion ! " 
 
 " No great harm done." 
 
 Eustace was incoherent in his wrath and 
 horror, and Harold, too much used to his childish
 
 204 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 selfishness to feel the annoyance, answered, " I 
 am not you." 
 
 " But if you offend him ? " 
 
 " Never fear, Eu, I'll take care you don't fare 
 the worse." 
 
 And as he lighted his candle he added to 
 poor Eustace's discomfiture by the shocking utter- 
 ance under his beard : 
 
 " You are welcome to him for me, if you can 
 stand such an old bore."
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 OGDEX'S BUILDINGS. 
 
 When I came downstairs the next morning-, I 
 found Lord Erymanth at the hall window, watch- 
 ing the advance of a great waggon of coal which 
 had stuck fast in the snow half way up the hill 
 on which the house stood. Harold, a much more 
 comfortable figure in his natural costume than he 
 had been when made up by Eustace, was truly put- 
 ting his shoulder to the wheel, with a great lever, 
 so that every effort aided the struggling horses, 
 and brought the whole nearer to its destination. 
 
 "A grand exhibition of strength," said his 
 lordship, as the waggon was at last over its diffi- 
 culties, and Harold disappeared with it into the 
 back-yard ; " a magnificent physical development.
 
 2o6 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 I never before saw extraordinary height with 
 proportionate size and strength." 
 
 I asked if he had ever seen anyone as tall. 
 
 " I have seen one or two men who looked 
 equally tall, but they stooped and were not well- 
 proportioned, whereas your nejohew has a wonder- 
 fully fine natural carriage. What is his measure .'' " 
 he added, turning to Eustace. 
 
 " Well, really, my lord, I cannot tell ; mine 
 is six feet two and five-sixteenths, and I much 
 prefer it to anything so out of the way as his, 
 poor fellow." 
 
 The danger that he would go on to repeat his 
 tailor's verdict " that it was distinguished without 
 being excessive," was averted by Harold's entrance, 
 and Dora interrupted the greetings by the query 
 to her cousin, how high he really stood ; but he 
 could not tell, and when she unfraternally pressed 
 to know whether it was not nice to be so much 
 taller than Eustace, he replied, " Not on board 
 ship," and then he gave the intelligence that it 
 seemed about to thaw. 
 
 Lord Erymanth said that if so, he should try
 
 OGDEN'S BUILDINGS. 207 
 
 to make his way to Mycening, and he then paid 
 his renewed compHments on the freedom of the 
 calendar at the Quarter Sessions from the usual 
 proportion of evils at Mycening. He understood 
 that Mr. Alison was making most praiseworthy 
 efforts to impede the fatal habits of intoxication 
 that were only too prevalent. 
 
 " I shall close five beer-houses at Christmas," 
 said Eustace. " I look on it as my duty, as land- 
 lord and man of property." 
 
 "Quite right. I am glad you see the matter 
 in Its right light. Beer-shops were a well-meaning 
 experiment started some twenty years ago. I well 
 remember the debate, &c." 
 
 Harold tried with all his might to listen,, 
 though I saw his chest heave with many a sup- 
 pressed yawn, and his hand under his beard, 
 tweaking It hard ; but substance could be sifted 
 out of what Lord Erymanth said, for he had 
 real experience, and his own parish was in admir- 
 able order. 
 
 Where there was no power of expulsion, as. 
 he said, there would always be some degraded.
 
 2o8 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 beings whose sole amusement was intoxication ; 
 but good dwelling-houses capable of being made 
 cheerful, gardens, innocent recreations, and in- 
 struction had, he could testify from experience, 
 no small effect in preventing such habits from 
 being formed in the younger population, backed, 
 as he was sure (good old man) that he need 
 not tell his young friends, by an active and 
 efficient clergyman, Avho would place the motives 
 for good conduct on the truest and highest foot- 
 ing, Avithout which all reformation Avould only be 
 surface work. I was glad Harold should hear 
 this from the lips of a layman, but I am afraid 
 he shirked it as a bit of prosing, and went back 
 to the cottages. 
 
 " They are in a shameful state," he said. 
 
 " They are to be improved," exclaimed Eustace, 
 eagerly. "As I told Bullock, I am quite deter- 
 mined that mine shall be a model parish. I am 
 ready to make any sacrifices to do my duty as 
 a landlord, though Bullock says that no outlay 
 on cottages ever pays, and that the test of their 
 being habitable is their being let, and that the
 
 OGDEN'S BUILDINGS. 209 
 
 people are so ungrateful that they do not deserve 
 to have anything done for them." 
 
 " You arc not led away by such selfish argu- 
 ments ? " said Lord Erymanth. 
 
 " No, assuredly not," said Eustace, decidedly ; 
 " though I do wish Harold would not disagree so 
 much with Bullock. He is a very civil man, 
 and much in earnest in promoting my interests." 
 
 "That's not all," put in Harold. 
 
 " And I can't bear Bullock," I said. " ' Our 
 interest ' has been always his cry, whenever the 
 least thing has been proposed for the cottage 
 people ; and I know how much worse he let 
 things get than we ever supposed." 
 
 On which Lord Erymanth spoke out his dis- 
 tinct advice to get rid of Bullock, telling us how 
 he had been a servant's orphan whom my father 
 had intended to apprentice, but, being placed with 
 our old bailiff for a time, had made himself neces- 
 sary, and ingratiated himself with my father so 
 as to succeed to the situation ; and it had been 
 the universal belief, ever since my mother's widow- 
 hood, that he had taken advantage of her seclusion 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 2IO MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 and want of knowledge of business to deal harshly 
 by the tenants, especially the poor, and to feather 
 his own nest. 
 
 It was only what Harold had already found 
 out for himself, but it disposed of his scruples 
 about old adherents, and it was well for Eustace 
 to hear it from such oracular lips as might neu- 
 tralise the effect of Bullock's flattery, for it had 
 become quite plain to my opened eyes that he 
 was trying to gain the squire's ear, and was very 
 jealous of Harold. 
 
 I knew, too, that to listen to his advice was 
 the way to Lord Erymanth's heart, and rejoiced 
 to hear Harold begging for the names of recent 
 books on drainage, and consulting our friend upon 
 the means of dealing with a certain small farm 
 in a tiny enclosed valley, on an outlying part of 
 the property, where the yard and outhouses were 
 in a permanent state of horrors ; but interference 
 was alike resented by Bullock and the farmer, 
 though the wife and family were piteous spectacles 
 of ague and rheumatism, and low fever smouldered 
 every autumn in the hamlet.
 
 OGDEN'S BUILDINGS. 2u 
 
 Very sound advice was given and accepted 
 with pertinent questions, such as I thought must 
 ■convince anyone of Harold's superiority, when he 
 must needs produce a long blue envelope, and 
 beg Lord Erymanth to look at it and tell him 
 how to get it presented to the Secretary of 
 State. 
 
 It was graciously received, but no sooner did 
 the name of Stanislas Prometesky strike the earl's 
 eyes than he exclaimed, " That rascally old dema- 
 gogue ! The author of all the mischief It was 
 the greatest error and weakness not to have had 
 him executed." 
 
 " You have not seen my father's statement ? " 
 
 " Statement, sir ! I read statements till I was 
 ■sick of them, absolutely disgusted with their re- 
 iteration, and what could they say but that he 
 was a Pole ? A Pole ! " (the word uttered with 
 infinite loathing). " As if the very name were not 
 a sufficient conviction of whatever is seditious and 
 treasonable, only that people are sentimental about 
 it, forsooth ! '' 
 
 Certainly it was droll to suspect sentiment in 
 
 p 2
 
 212 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 the great broad giant, who indignantly made 
 reply, " The Poles have been infamously 
 treated." 
 
 " No more than they deserved," said Lord 
 Erymanth, startled for once into brevity. "A 
 nation who could never govern themselves de- 
 cently, and since they have been broken up, as 
 they richly deserved, though I do not justify the 
 manner — ever since, I say, have been acting the 
 incendiary in every country where they have set 
 foot. I would as soon hear of an infernal machine 
 in the country as a Pole!" 
 
 " Poles deserve justice as well as other men," 
 said Harold, perhaps the more doggedly because 
 Eustace laid a restraining hand on his arm. 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me, sir, that every 
 man has not received justice at the tribunal of 
 this country } " exclaimed Lord Erymanth. 
 
 Perhaps he recollected that he was speaking- 
 to the son of a convict, for there was a moment's, 
 pause, into which I launched myself " Dear Lord 
 Erymanth," I said, "we all know that my poor 
 brothers did offend against the laws and were
 
 OGDEN'S BUILDINGS. 213 
 
 sentenced according to them. They said so them- 
 seh'es, and that they were mistaken, did they 
 not, Harold ? " 
 
 Harold bent his head. 
 
 " And owing to whom .' " demanded Lord 
 Erymanth. " I never thought of blaming those 
 two poor lads as I did that fellow who led them 
 astray. I did all I could to save their lives ; if 
 they were alive this moment I would wish nothing 
 better than to bring them home, but as to asking 
 me to forward a petition in favour of the hoary 
 old rebel that perverted them, I should think it 
 a crime.'^ 
 
 " But/' I said, " if you would only read this, 
 you would see that what they wanted to explain 
 was that the man who turned king's evidence 
 did not show how Count Prometesky tried to 
 withhold them." 
 
 "Count, indeed! Just like all women. All 
 those Poles are Counts ! All Thaddeuses of 
 Warsaw ! " 
 
 "That's hard," I said. "I only called him 
 Count because it would have shocked you if I
 
 214 -^y YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 had given him no prefix. Will you not see what 
 poor Ambrose wanted to say for him ? " 
 
 " Ah ! " said Lord Erymanth, after a pause, in 
 which he had really glanced over the paper. 
 " Poor boys ! It goes to my heart to think 
 what fine fellows were lost there, but compassion 
 for them cannot soften me towards the man who 
 practised on their generous, unsuspecting youth. 
 I am quite aware that Prometesky saved life at 
 the fire, and his punishment was commuted on 
 that account, contrary to my judgment, for it is 
 a well-known axiom, that the author of a riot is 
 responsible for all the outrages committed in it> 
 and it is undeniable that the whole insurrection 
 was his work. I am quite aware that the man 
 had amiable, even fascinating qualities, and great 
 enthusiasm, but here lay the great danger and 
 seduction to young minds ; and though I can 
 perfectly understand the warm sympathy and 
 generous sentiment that actuates my young 
 friends, and though I much regret the being 
 obliged to deny the first request of one to whom, 
 I may say, I owe my life, I must distinctly refuse
 
 OGDEN'S BUILDINGS. 215 
 
 to take any part in relieving Count Stanislas 
 Prometesky from the penalty he has incurred." 
 
 Harold's countenance had become very gloomy 
 during this peroration. He made no attempt 
 at reply, but gathered up his papers, and, gnaw- 
 ing his fringe of moustache, walked out of the 
 room, v/hile Eustace provoked me by volunteer- 
 ing explanations that Prometesky was no friend 
 of his, only of Harold's. His lordship declared 
 himself satisfied, provided no dangerous opinions 
 had been imbibed, and truly Eustace might 
 honestly acquit himself of having any opinions 
 at all. 
 
 That afternoon he drove Lord Erymanth to 
 Mycening, whence the railway was now open. 
 Harold could nowhere be found, and kind 
 messages were left for him, for which he was 
 scarcely grateful when he came in late in the 
 evening, calling Lord Erymanth intolerably vin- 
 dictive, to bear malice for five-and-twenty 
 years. 
 
 I could not get him to see that it was 
 entirely judicial indignation, and desire for the
 
 2i6 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 good of the country, not in the least personal 
 feeling ; but Harold had not yet the perception 
 of the legislative sentiment that actuates men of 
 station in England. His strong inclination was 
 not to go near the old man or his house again, 
 but this was no small distress to Eustace, who, 
 in spite of all his vaunting, dreaded new scenes 
 without a protector, and I set myself to persuade 
 him that it was due to his cousin not to hide 
 himself, and avoid society so as to give a colour 
 to evil report. 
 
 " It might be best to separate myself from 
 him altogether and go back." On this, Eustace 
 cried out with horror and dismay, and Harold 
 answered, " Never fear, old chap ; I'm not going 
 yet. Not till I have seen you in good hands.'' 
 
 " And you'll accept the invitation," said Eus- 
 tace, taking up one of the coroneted notes that 
 invited us each for two nights to the castle. 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 "And you'll come up to town, and have a 
 proper suit." 
 
 "As you please."
 
 OGDEN'S BUILDINGS. 217 
 
 Eustace went off to the library to find some 
 crested paper and envelopes worthy to bear the 
 acceptance, and Harold stood musing. "A good 
 agent and a good wife would set him on his 
 feet to go alone," he said. 
 
 " Meantime he cannot do without you." 
 
 " Not in some ways." 
 
 "And even this acquaintance is your achieve- 
 ment, not his." 
 
 " Such as it is." 
 
 I pointed out that though Lord Erymanth 
 refused to assist Prometesky, his introduction 
 might lead to those who might do so, while 
 isolation was a sort of helplessness. To this he 
 agreed, saying, " I must free him before I go 
 back." 
 
 "And do you really want to go back.-*" said 
 I, fearing he was growing restless. 
 
 His face worked, and he said, " When I feel 
 like a stone round Eustace's neck." 
 
 " Why should you feel so .'' You are a lever 
 to lift him." 
 
 " Am I .'' The longer I live with you, the
 
 2i8 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 more true it seems to me that I had no bushiess 
 to come into a world with such people in it as 
 you and Miss Tracy." 
 
 Eustace came back, fidgeting to get a pen 
 mended, an operation beyond him, but patiently 
 performed by the stronger fingers. We said no 
 more, but I had had a glimpse which made me 
 hope that the pilgrim was beginning to feel the 
 burthen on his back. 
 
 Not that he had much time for thought. 
 He was out all day, looking after the potteries, 
 where orders were coming in fast, and workmen 
 increasing, and likewise toiling in the fields at 
 Ogden's farm, making measurements and experi- 
 ments on the substrata and the waterfall, on 
 which to base his plans for drainage according 
 to the books Lord Erymanth had lent him. 
 
 After the second day he came home half- 
 laughing. Farmer Ogden had warned him off 
 and refused to listen to any explanation, though 
 he must have known whom he was expelling — 
 yes, like a very village Hampden, he had thrust 
 the unwelcome surveyor out at his gate with such
 
 OG DEN'S BUILDINGS. 219 
 
 a trembling, testy, rheumatic arm, that Harold 
 had felt obliged to obey it. 
 
 Eustace, angered at the treatment of his cousin, 
 volunteered to come and " tell the ass, Ogden, to 
 mind \\h^.t he was about," and Harold added, 
 " If you would come, Lucy, you might help to 
 make his wife understand." 
 
 I came, as I was desired, where I had never 
 been before, for we had always rested in the belief 
 that the Alfy Valley was a nasty, damp, un- 
 health}' place, with " something always about," 
 and had contented ourselves with sending broth 
 to the cottages whene\'er we heard of any un- 
 usual amount of disease. If we had ever been 
 there ! 
 
 We rode the two miles, as I do not think Dora 
 and I would ever have floundered through the 
 mud and torrents that ran down the lanes. It was 
 just as if the farm had been built in the lower 
 circle, and the cottages in Malebolge itself, where 
 the poor little Alfy, so pure when it started from 
 Kalydon Moor, brought down to them all the 
 leakage of that farm}-ard. Oh ! that yard, I never
 
 2 20 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 beheld, imagined, or made my way through the 
 Hke, though there was a Httle causeway near the 
 boundary wall, where it was possible to creep 
 along on the stones, rousing up a sleeping pig 
 or a dreamy donkey here and there, and barked 
 at in volleys by dogs stationed on all the higher 
 islets in the unsavoury lake. If Dora had not 
 been a colonial child, and if I could have feared 
 for myself with Harold by my side, I don't think 
 we should ever have arrived, but Farmer Ogden 
 and his son came out, and a man and boy or 
 two ; and when Eustace was recognised, they 
 made what way they could for us, and we were 
 landed at last in a scrupulously clean kitchen with 
 peat fire and a limeash floor, where, alas ! we 
 were not suffered to remain, but were taken into 
 a horrid little parlour, with a newly-lighted, 
 smoking fire, a big Bible, and a ploughing- 
 cup. Mrs. Ogden was a dissenter, so we had 
 really no acquaintance, and, poor thing, had 
 long been unable to go anywhere. She was 
 a pale trembling creature, most neat and clean, 
 but with the dreadful sallow complexion given by
 
 OGDEN'S BUILDINGS. 221 
 
 perpetual ague. She was \-ery ci\il, and gave us 
 cake and wine, to the former of which Dora did 
 ample justice ; but oh ! the impracticabihty of 
 those people ! 
 
 The men had it all out of doors, but when I 
 tried my eloquence on Mrs. Ogden I found her 
 firmly persuaded not only that her own ill health 
 and the sickness in the hamlet were " the will of 
 the Lord," but in her religious fatalism, that it 
 "was absolutely profane to think that cleansing and 
 drainage would amend them ; and she adduced 
 texts which poor uninstructed I was unable to 
 answer, even while I knew they were a 
 perversion ; and, provoked as I was, I felt that 
 her meek patience and resignation might be 
 higher virtues than any to which I had yet 
 attained. 
 
 Her husband, who, I should explain, was but 
 one remove above a smock-frock farmer, took a 
 different line. He had unsavoury proverbs in 
 which he put deep faith. " Muck was the mother 
 of money," and also " Muck was the farmer's 
 nosegay." He viewed it as an absolute effemi-
 
 2 22 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 nacy to object to its odorous savours ; and as to 
 the poor people, " they were an ungrateful lot, 
 and had a great deal too much done for them/' 
 the small farmer's usual creed. Mr. Alison could 
 do as he liked, of course, but his lease had five 
 years yet to run, and he would not consent to 
 pay no more rent, not for what he didn't ask for, 
 nor didn't want, and Mr. Bullock didn't approve 
 of — that he would not, not if Mr. Alison took the 
 law of him. 
 
 His landlord do it at his own expense .-* That 
 made him look knowing. He was evidently cer- 
 tain that it was a trick for raising the rent at the 
 end of the lease, if not before, upon him, whose 
 fathers had been tenants of Alfy Vale even before 
 the Ahsons came to Arghouse ; and, with the rude 
 obstinacy of his race, he was as uncivil to Harold 
 as he durst in Eustace's presence. " He had no 
 mind to have his fields cut up just to sell the 
 young gentleman's drain-pipes, as wouldn't go off 
 at them potteries." 
 
 " Well, but all this stuff would be doing much 
 -more good upon your fields than here," Eustace
 
 OG DEN'S BUILDINGS. 223 
 
 said. " I — I really must insist on this farmyard 
 being cleansed." 
 
 " You'll not find that in the covenant, sir," said 
 the farmer with a grin. 
 
 " But, father," began the son, a more intelligent- 
 looking man, though with the prevailing sickly 
 tint. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Phil," said Ogden. " It's 
 easy to talk of cleaning out the yard ; I'd like to 
 see the gentleman set about it, or you either, for 
 that matter." 
 
 " Would you r said Harold. " Then you shall." 
 
 Farmer Ogden gaped. " I won't have no 
 strange labourers about the place." 
 
 " No more you shall," said Harold. " If your 
 son and I clean out this place with our own hands 
 in the course of a couple of days, putting the 
 manure in any field you may appoint, will you 
 let the drainage plans be carried out without 
 opposition } " 
 
 "It ain't a bet.^" said the farmer; "for my 
 missus's conscience is against bets." 
 
 " No, certainly not."
 
 2 24 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 "Nor a trick?" he said, looking from one to 
 another. 
 
 " No. It is to be honest work. I am a 
 farmer, and know what work is, and have done 
 it too." 
 
 Farmer Ogden, to a certain extent, gave in, 
 and we departed. His son held the gate open 
 for us, with a keen look at Harold, full of wonder 
 and inquiry. 
 
 "You'll stand by me .^" said Harold, lingering 
 with him. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Phil Ogden ; " but I doubt if 
 we can do it Father says it is a week's work 
 for five men, if you could get them to do it." 
 
 " Never fear," said Harold. " We'll save your 
 mother's life yet against her will, and make you 
 all as healthy as if you'd been born in New South 
 Wales." 
 
 This was Friday, and Phil had an engagement 
 on the Monday, so that Tuesday was fixed, much 
 to Eustace's displeasure, for he did not like 
 Harold's condescending to work which labourers 
 would hardly undertake ; and besides, he would
 
 OGDEN'S BUILDINGS. 225 
 
 make his hands, if not himself, absohitely unfit 
 for the entertainment on Thursday. On which 
 Harold asked if there were no such thing as water. 
 Eustace implored him. to give it up and send 
 half-a-dozen unemployed men, but to this he 
 answered, " I should be ashamed." 
 
 And when we went home he rode on into 
 Mycening, to see about his equipment, he said, 
 setting Eustace despairing, lest he, after all, meant 
 to avoid the London tailor, and to patronise 
 Mycening ; but the equipment turned out to be a 
 great smock-frock. And something very different 
 came home with him — namely, a little dainty 
 flower-pot and pan, with an Etruscan pattern, the 
 very best things that had been turned out of the 
 pottery, adorned with a design in black and white, 
 representing a charming little Greek nymph w^ater- 
 ing her flowers. 
 
 " Don't you think, Lucy, Miss ^Tracy being a 
 shareholder, and it being her birthday, the chair- 
 man might present this .?" he inquired. 
 
 I agreed heartily, but Eustace, with a twist of 
 his cat's-whisker moustache, opined that they were 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 scarcely elegant enough for Miss Tracy; and on 
 the Monday, when he did drag Harold up to the 
 tailor's, he brought down a fragile little bouquet 
 of porcelain violets, very Parisian, and in the 
 latest fashion, which he flattered himself was the 
 newest thing extant, and a much more appropriate 
 offering. The violets could be made by a pinch 
 below to squirt out perfume ! 
 
 "Nevermind, Harold," I said, "you can give 
 your flower-pot all the same/^ 
 "You may," said Harold. 
 " Why should not you V 
 
 He shook his head. " I've no business," he 
 said ; " Eustace is chairman." 
 
 I said no more, and I hardly saw Harold the 
 two following days, for he was gone in the twilight 
 of the January morning and worked as long as 
 light would allow, and fortunately the moon was 
 in a favourable quarter ; and Phil, to whom the 
 lighter part of the task was allotted, confided to 
 his companion that he had been wishing to get 
 father to see things in this light for a long time, 
 but he was if/^«^ slow to move; and since Harold
 
 OGDEN'S BUILDINGS. 227 
 
 had been looking about, Mr. Bullock had advised 
 him not to give in, for it would be sure to end 
 in the raising of his rent, and young gentlemen 
 had new-fangled notions that only led to expense 
 and nonsense, and it was safest in the long run 
 to trust to the agent. 
 
 However, the sight of genuine, unflinching 
 toil, with nothing of the amateur about it, had 
 an eloquence of its own. Farmer Ogden looked 
 on grimly and ironically for the first two hours, 
 having only been surprised into consent in the 
 belief that any man, let alone a gentleman, must 
 find out the impracticability of the undertaking, 
 and be absolutely sickened. Then he brought 
 out some bread and cheese and cider, and was 
 inclined to be huffy when Harold declined the 
 latter, and looked satirical when he repaired to 
 wash his hands at the pump before touching the 
 former. When he saw two more hours go by 
 in work of which he could judge, his furrowed 
 old brow grew less puckered, and he came out 
 again to request Mr. Harold to partake of the 
 mid-day meal. I fancy Harold's going up to 
 
 Q 2
 
 2 28 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 Phil's room, to make himself respectable for Mrs. 
 Og den's society, was as strange to the farmer 
 as were to the Australian the good wife's excuses 
 for making him sit down with the family in the 
 kitchen ; but I believe that 'during the meal he 
 showed himself practical farmer enough to win 
 their respect ; and Avhen he worked harder than 
 ever all the afternoon, even till the last moment 
 it was possible to see, and came back with the 
 light the next morning, he had won his cause ; 
 above all, when the hunt swept by without dis- 
 turbing the labour. 
 
 The farmer not only turned in his scanty sup- 
 ply of men to help to finish off the labour, and 
 seconded contrivances which the day before he 
 would have scouted, but he gave his own bowed 
 back to the work. A pavement of the court which 
 had not seen the day for forty years was brought 
 to light ; and by a series of drain tiles, for which 
 a messenger was dispatched to the pottery, streams 
 were conducted from the river to wash these up ; 
 and at last, when Harold appeared, after Eus- 
 tace had insisted on waiting no longer for dinner,.
 
 OGDEN'S BUILDINGS. 229 
 
 he replied to our eager questions, " Yes, it is 
 done." 
 
 "And Ogden?" 
 
 " He thanked me, shook hands with me, and 
 said I was a man." 
 
 Which we knew meant infinitely more than a 
 gentleman. 
 
 Harold wanted to spend Thursday in banking 
 up the pond in the centre of the yard, but the 
 idea seemed to drive Eustace to distraction. Such 
 work before going to that sublime region at Ery- 
 manth ! He laid hold of Harold's hands — shapely 
 handb, and with that look of latent strength one 
 sees in some animals, but scarred with many a 
 seam, and horny within the fingers — and com- 
 pared them with those he had nursed into dainty 
 delicacy of whiteness, till Harold could not help 
 saying, "I wouldn't have a lady's fingers," 
 
 " I would not have a clown's," said Eustace. 
 " Keep your gloves on, Harold, and do not make 
 them any worse. If you go out to that place 
 to-day, they won't even be as presentable as they 
 are."
 
 230 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 "I shall wash tliem." 
 
 "Wash! As if oceans of Eau-de-Cologne 
 would make them fit for society ! " said Eustace^ 
 with infinite disgust, only equalled by the "Faugh! " 
 with which Harold heard of the perfume. In fact, 
 Eustace was dreadfully afraid the other hunters 
 seen and recognised those shoulders, even under 
 the smock-frock, as plainly as he did, and he 
 had been wretched about it ever since. 
 
 "You talk of not wanting to do me harm,^' 
 he said, " and then you go and grub in such 
 work as any decent labourer would despise." 
 
 So miserable was he, that Harold, who never 
 saw the foolery in Eustace that he would have 
 derided in others, yielded to him so far as only 
 to give directions to Bullock for sending down 
 the materials wanted for the pond, and likewise 
 for mending the roof of a cottage where a rheu- 
 matic old woman was habitually obliged to sleep 
 under a crazy umbrella.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN. 
 
 Nothing stands out to me more distinctly, Avith 
 its pleasures and pains, than the visit to Erymanth 
 Castle — from our arrival in the dark — the lighted 
 hall — the servants meeting us — the Australians' 
 bewilderment at being ushered up to our rooms 
 without a greeting from the host — my lingering 
 to give a last injunction in Eustace's ear, " Now, 
 Eustace, / wori't have Harold's hair greased ; 
 and put as little stuff as you can persuade your- 
 self to do on your pocket-handkerchief" — orders 
 I had kept to the last to make them more 
 emphatic ; then dashing after the housekeeper 
 leaving them to work — my great room, where it' 
 was a perfect journey from the fire to the toilet-
 
 232 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 table — my black lace dress, and the silver 
 ornaments those dear nephews had brought me 
 from London — and in the midst of my hair-doing- 
 dear little Viola's running in to me in one of 
 her ecstacies, hugging me, to the detriment of 
 Colman's fabric and her own, and then dancing 
 round and round me in her pretty white cloudy 
 tulle, looped up with snowdrops. The one thing 
 that had been wanting to her was that her dear, 
 darling, delightful Lucy should be at her own 
 ball — her birthday ball ; and just as she had 
 despaired, it had all come right, owing to that 
 glorious old giant of ours ; and she went off into 
 a series of rapturous little laughs over Dermot's 
 account of her uncle's arrival pick-a-back. It 
 was of no use to look cautious, and sign at 
 Colman ; Viola had no notion of restraint ; and 
 I was thankful when my dress was complete, 
 and w^e were left alone, so that I could listen 
 without compunction to the story of Lord 
 Erymanth's arrival at Arked House, and solemn 
 assurance that he had been most hospitably re- 
 ceived, and that his own observation and
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN. 233 
 
 inquiry had convinced him that Mr. AHson was 
 
 a highly estimable young man, in spite of all 
 
 disadvantages, unassuming, well-mannered, and 
 
 grateful for good advice. Dermot had shown 
 
 his discernment in making him his friend, and 
 
 Lucy had, in truth, acted with much courage, as 
 
 well as good judgment, in remaining with him ; 
 
 " and that so horrified mamma," said Viola, 
 
 "that she turned me out of the room, so I don't 
 
 know how they fought it out ; but mamma must 
 
 have given in at last, though she has never said 
 
 one word to me about it, not even that you 
 
 were all to be here. What a good thing it is to 
 
 have a brother ! I should never have known but 
 
 for Dermot. And, do you know, he says that 
 
 my uncle's pet is the cousin, after all — the 
 
 deferential fool of a cousin, he says." 
 
 " Hush, hush, Viola ! " 
 
 " I didn't say so — it was Dermot ! " said 
 the naughty child, with a little arch pout ; " he 
 says it is just like my uncle to be taken with a 
 little worship from — well, he is your nephew, 
 Lucy, so I will be politer than Dermot, who does
 
 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 rage because he says Mr. Alison has not even sense 
 to see that he is dressed in his cousin's plumes." 
 
 " He is ver>^ fond of Harold, Viola, and they 
 both of them do it in simplicity ; Harold does 
 the things for Eustace, and never even sees that 
 the credit is taken from him. It is what he does 
 it for.'' 
 
 " Then he is a regular stupid old jolly giant," 
 said Viola. " Oh, Lucy, what delicious thing is 
 this } " 
 
 It was the little flower-pot, in which I had 
 planted a spray of lemon-scented verbena, which 
 Viola had long coveted. I explained how Harold 
 had presided over it as an offering from the 
 Hydriot Company to its youngest shareholder, 
 and her delight was extreme. She said she 
 would keep it for ever in her own room ; it was 
 just what she w^anted, the prettiest thing she 
 had had — so kind of him ; but those great, 
 grand giants never thought anything too little for 
 them. And then she went into one of her 
 despairs. She had prepared a number of Christ- 
 mas presents for the people about the castle to
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEiY. 235 
 
 whom she had always been hke the child of the 
 house, and her maid had forgotten to bring the 
 box she had packed, nor was there any means 
 of getting them, unless she could persuade her 
 brother to send early the next morning. 
 
 " Is Dermot staying here ? " 
 
 " Oh yes — all night ; and nobody else, ex- 
 cept ourselves and Piggy. Poor Piggy, he moves 
 about in more awful awe of my uncle than ever 
 — and so stiff! I am always expecting to see 
 him bristle ! " 
 
 There came a message that my lady was 
 ready, and was asking for Miss Tracy to go 
 down with her. Viola fluttered away, and I 
 waited till they should have had time to descend 
 before making my own appearance, finding all 
 the rooms in the cleared state incidental to ball 
 preparations — all the chairs and tables shrunk up 
 to the walls ; and even the drawing-room, where 
 the chaperons were to sit, looking some degrees 
 more desolate than the drawing-room of a lady- 
 less house generally does look. 
 
 Full in the midst of an immense blue damask
 
 236 My YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 sofa sat Lady Diana, in grey brocade. She was 
 rather a small woman in reality, but dignity made 
 a great deal more of her. Eustace, with a splen- 
 did red camellia in his coat, was standing by her, 
 blushing, and she was graciously permitting the 
 presentation of the squirting violet. " Since it 
 was a birthday, and it was a kind attention," &c., 
 but I could see that she did not much like it ; 
 and Viola, sitting on the end of the sofa with 
 her eyes downcast, was very evidently much less 
 delighted than encumbered with the fragile china 
 thing. 
 
 Lord Erymanth met me, and led me up to 
 his sister, who gave me a cold kiss, and we had 
 a little commonplace talk, during which I could 
 see Viola spring up to Harold, who was standing 
 beside her brother, and the colour rising in his 
 bronzed face at her eager acknowledgments of 
 the flower-pot ; after which she applied herself 
 to begging her brother to let his horse and groom 
 go over early the next morning for the Christmas 
 gifts she had left behind, but Dermot did not 
 seem propitious, not liking to trust the man he
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN. 237 
 
 had with him with the precious Jack o'Lantern 
 over hills slippeiy with frost ; and Viola, as one 
 properly instructed in the precariousness of equine 
 knees, subsided disappointed ; while I had leisure 
 to look up at the two gentlemen standing there, 
 and I must say that Harold looked one of 
 Nature's nobles even beside Dermot, and Dermot 
 a fine, manly fellow even beside Harold, though 
 only reaching to his shoulder. 
 
 I was the greatest stranger, and went in to 
 the dining-room with his lordship, which spared 
 me the sight of Eustace's supreme satisfaction in 
 presenting his arm to Lady Diana, after she had 
 carefully paired off Viola with her cousin Piggy — 
 i.e., Pigou St. Clear, the eldest son of the heir- 
 presumptive, a stiff, shy youth in the Erj'manth 
 atmosphere, w^hatever he might be out of it, and 
 not at all happy with Viola, who was wont to 
 tease and laugh at him. 
 
 It was a save-trouble dinner, as informal as 
 the St. Glear nature and servants permitted. 
 Lord Erymanth carved, and took care that Harold 
 should not starve, and he was evidently trying to
 
 2i8 AIY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 turn the talk into such a direction as to shoAV 
 his sister Avhat his guests were ; but Eustace's 
 tongue was, of course, the ready one, and answered 
 glibly about closed beershops, projected cottages, 
 and the complete drainage of the Alfy — nay, 
 that as to Bullock and Ogden hearing reason, he 
 had only to go over in person and the thing was 
 done ; the farmyard was actually set to rights, 
 and no difficulty at all was made as to the further 
 improvements now that the landlord had once 
 shown himself concerned. That was all that was 
 wanting. And the funny part of it was that he 
 actually believed it. 
 
 Dermot could not help saying to Harold, 
 " Didn't I see you applying a few practical argu- 
 ments .'' " 
 
 Harold made a sign with his head, with a 
 deprecatory twinkle in his eye, recollecting how 
 infra dig Eustace thought his exploit. The party 
 was too small for more than one conversation, so 
 that when the earl began to relate his expe- 
 riences of the difficulties of dealing with farmers 
 and cottagers, all had to listen in silence, and I
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN. 239 
 
 saw the misery of restless sleepiness produced by 
 the continuous sound of his voice setting in upon 
 Harold, and under it I had to leave him, on my 
 departure with Lady Diana and her daughter, 
 quaking in my satin shoes at the splendid gra- 
 ciousness I saw in preparation for me ; but I 
 was kept all the time on the outer surface ; Lady 
 Diana did not choose to be intimate enough even 
 to give good advice, so that I was very glad when 
 the carriages were heard and the gentlemen joined 
 us, Harold hastily handing to Viola the squirting 
 violets which she had left behind her on the 
 dining-table, and which he had carefully con- 
 cealed from Eustace, but, alas ! only to have them 
 forgotten again, or, maybe, with a little malice, 
 deposited in the keeping of the brazen satyr on 
 the ante-room chimney-piece. 
 
 Dermot had already claimed my first dance, 
 causing a strange thrill of pain, as I missed the 
 glance which always used to regret without for- 
 bidding my becoming his partner. Viola was 
 asked in due form by Eustace, and accepted him 
 with alacrity, which he did not know to be due to
 
 240 MV YOUNG ALCJDES. 
 
 her desire to escape from Piggy. Most solicitously 
 did our good old host present Eustace to every 
 one, and it was curious to watch the demeanour of 
 the different classes — the Horsmans mostly cordial, 
 Hippa and Pippa demonstratively so ; but the 
 Stympsons held aloof with the stififest of bows, 
 not one of them but good-natured Captain George 
 Stympson would shake hands even with me, and 
 Miss Avice Stympson, of Lake House, made as if 
 Harold were an object invisible to the naked eye, 
 while the kind old earl was doing his best that he 
 should not feel neglected. Eustace had learnt 
 dancing for that noted ball at Government House, 
 but Harold had disavowed the possibility. He had 
 only danced once in his life, he said, when Dermot 
 pressed him, " and that counted for nothing.'" 
 To me the pain on the bent brow made it plain 
 that it had been at the poor fellow's wedding. 
 
 However, he stood watching, and when at the 
 end of our quadrille Dermot said, " Here lies the 
 hulk of the Great Harry,^' there was an amused 
 air about him, and at the further question, " Come, 
 Alison, what do you think of our big corroborks?''
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN. 241 
 
 he deliberately replied, " I never saw such a pretty 
 sight!" And on some leading exclamation from 
 one of us, " It beats the cockatoos on a cornfield ; 
 besides, one has got to kill them!'^ 
 
 " Mr. Alison looks at our little diversion in the 
 benevolent spirit of the giant whose daughter 
 brought home ploughman, oxen, and all in her 
 apron for playthings,^' said Viola, who with 
 Eustace had found her ^^•ay to us, but A\'e were all 
 divided again, Viola being carried off by some 
 grandee, Eustace having to search for some noble 
 damsel to whom he had been introduced, and I 
 falling to the lot of young Mr. Horsman, a nice 
 person in himself, but unable to surmount the 
 overcrowing of the elder sisters, who called him 
 Baby Jack, and publicly ordered him about. Even 
 at the end of our dance, at the sound of Hippa's 
 authoritative summons, he dropped me suddenly, 
 and I found myself gravitating towards Harold 
 like a sort of chaperon. I was amazed by his 
 observing, " I think I could do it now. Would you 
 try me, Lucy } " 
 
 After all, he Avas but five-and-twenty, and could 
 
 VOL. I. • R
 
 2 42 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 hardly look on anything requiring agility or dex- 
 terity without attempting it, so I consented, with 
 a renewal of the sensations I remembered when, 
 as a child, I had danced with grown-up men, only 
 with alarm at the responsibility of what Dermot 
 called " the steerage of the Great Harry," since 
 collision with such momentum as ours might soon 
 be would be serious ; but I soon found my anxiety 
 groundless ; he was too well made and elastic to be 
 clumsy, and had perfect power over his own weight 
 and strength, so that he could dance as lightly and 
 safely as Dermot with his Irish litheness. 
 
 " Do you think I might ask Miss Tracy ? ^' 
 he said, in return for my compliments. 
 
 " Of course ; why not ? " 
 
 When he did ask, her reply was, " Oh, will 
 you indeed ? Thank you." Which naivete ac- 
 tually raised her mother's colour with annoyance. 
 But if she had a rod laid up, Viola did not feel 
 it then ; she looked radiant, and though I don't 
 believe three words passed between the partners, 
 that -waltz was the glory of the evening to 
 her.
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN. 243 
 
 She must have made him take her to the 
 tea-room for some ice, and there it was that, while 
 I was standing with my partner a little way off, 
 we heard Miss Avice Stympson's peculiarly pene- 
 trating attempt at a whisper, observing, "Yes, 
 it is melancholy ! I thought we were safe here, 
 or I never should have brought my dear little 
 'Birdie. . . . What, don't you know ? There's 
 no doubt of it — the glaze on the potteiy is dead 
 men's bones. They have an arrangement with 
 the hospitals in London, you understand. I can't 
 think how Lord Erymanth can be so deceived. 
 But you see the trick was a perfect success. 
 Yes, the blocking up the railway. A mercy no 
 lives were lost ; but that would have been nothing 
 to him after the way he has gone on in Aus- 
 tralia. — Oh, Lord Erymanth, I did not know 
 you were there." 
 
 "And as I could not avoid overhearing you," 
 said that old gentleman, "let me remind you 
 that I regard courtesy to the guest as due re- 
 spect to the host, and that I have good reason to 
 expect that my visitors should have some con- 
 
 R 2
 
 244 MY YOUNG A LCI DBS. 
 
 fidence in my discrimination of the persons I 
 invite them to meet/' 
 
 Therewith both he and Miss Stympson had 
 become aware of the head that was above them 
 all, and the crimson that dyed the cheeks and 
 brow ; while Viola, trembling with passion, and 
 both hands clasped oyer Harold's arm, ex- 
 claimed, in a panting- whisper, " Tell them it is 
 a wicked falsehood — tell them it is no such 
 thing ! '' 
 
 " I will speak to your uncle to-morrow. I 
 am obliged to him." 
 
 " Everybody heard that, and all who had 
 either feeling or manners knew that no more 
 ought to be said. Only Lord Erymanth made 
 his way to Harold to say, " I am very sorry this 
 has happened." 
 
 Harold bent his head with a murmur of 
 thanks, and was moving out of the supper-room, 
 when Dermot hastily laid a hand on him with, 
 '* Keep the field, Harry ; don't go." 
 
 " I'm not going." 
 
 "That's right. Face it out before the hags.
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN. 245 
 
 Whom shall I introduce you • There's Birdie 
 
 Stympson — come/' 
 
 " No, no ; I don't mean to dance again." 
 
 " Why not ? Beard the harpies like a man. 
 Dancing would refute them all." 
 
 "Would it.'"' gravely said Harold. 
 
 Nor could he be persuaded, save once at his 
 host's bidding, but showed no signs of being 
 abashed or distressed, and most of the male 
 Stympsons came and spoke to him. The whole 
 broke up at three, and we repaired to our rooms, 
 conscious that family prayers would take place 
 as the clock struck nine as punctually as if 
 nothing had happened, and that our characters 
 depended on our punctuality. Viola was in 
 time, and so was Eustace ; I sneaked in late and 
 ashamed ; and the moment the servants had filed 
 out Viola sprang to Eustace with vehement 
 acknowledgments ; and it appeared that just 
 before she came down her missing box of gifts 
 had been brought to her room, and she was told 
 that Mr. Alison had sent for them. Eustace 
 smirked, and Lady Diana apologised for her little
 
 246 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 daughter's giddy, exaggerated expressions, by 
 which she had given far more trouble than she 
 ever intended. 
 
 " No trouble," said Eustace. " Harold always 
 wants to work off his steam/' 
 
 "What, it was he.'" said Viola. 
 
 " Yes, of course ; he always does those things," 
 said Eustace, speaking with a tone of proprietor- 
 ship, as if Harold had been a splendid self-acting 
 steam-engine. " I am very glad to have gratified 
 you, Miss Tracy " 
 
 "Only he did, and not you," said Viola, boldly, 
 luckily without being heard by her mother, while 
 Eustace murmured out, rather bewildered, " It is 
 all the same." 
 
 Viola evidently did not think so when Harold 
 came in with beads of wet fringing his whiskers, 
 though he had divested himself of the chief 
 evidences of the rivers of muddy lane through 
 which he had walked to Arked House, full four 
 miles off. 
 
 Viola's profuse thanks were crossed by Lady 
 Diana's curt apologies ; and as poor Piggy, who
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN. 247 
 
 had genuinely overslept himself, entered with his 
 apologies — poor fellow — in a voice very much as 
 if he was trying to say "Grumph, grumph/^ while 
 he could only say " Wee, wee,'^ they were received 
 solemnly by his uncle with, "The antipodes are 
 a rebuke to you, Pigou. I am afraid the young 
 men of this hemisphere have no disposition to 
 emulate either such chivalrous attentions or exer- 
 tions as have been Mr. Harold Alison's excuse." 
 When so much was said about it, Harold pro- 
 bably wished he had let the Avhole matter alone, 
 and was thankful to be allowed to sit down in 
 peace to his well-earned breakfast, which was 
 finished before Dermot lounged in — not waited 
 for by his uncle, Avho offered an exhibition of his 
 model-farm-buildings, machines, cattle, &c. Fain 
 would Viola and I have gone in the train of the 
 gentlemen, but the weather, though not bad enough 
 to daunt a tolerably hardy man, was too damp 
 or me, and we had to sit down to our Avork in 
 the drawing-room, while Piggy, always happier 
 without his great-uncle, meandered about until 
 Lady Diana ordered off Viola to play at billiards
 
 248 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 with him, but kept me, for, as I perceived, the 
 awful moment was come, and the only consolation 
 was that it might be an opportunity of pleading 
 Harold's cause. 
 
 With great censure of the Stympsons' ill-breed- 
 ing and discourtesy to her brother (which seemed 
 to affect her far more than the direct injury to 
 Harold), and strong disclaimers of belief in them, 
 still my mother's old friend must inquire into the 
 character of these young men and my position 
 with regard to them. If she had been tender 
 instead of inquisitorial, I should have answered 
 far more freely, and most likely the air of defiance 
 and defence into which she nettled me had a par- 
 tisan look ; but it was impossible not to remember 
 that Miss Woolmer had always said that, however 
 she might censure the scandal of the Stympsons, 
 they only required to dish it up with sauce piquant 
 to make her enjoy it hcartil}\ 
 
 And really and truly it did seem as if there 
 was nothing in the whole lives of those poor 
 youths on which those women had not contrived 
 to cast some horrid stain ; working backwards
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN. 249 
 
 from the dead men's bones in the pottery (Der- 
 mot had told her they used nothhig but Hve 
 men's bones), through imputations on Mr. George 
 Yolland's character, and the cause of the catas- 
 trophe at the " Dragon's Head ; " stories of my 
 associating with all the low, undesirable friends 
 they picked up at ]\Iycening, or in the hunting- 
 field ; and as to the Australian part of the his- 
 tory, she would hardly mention to me all she 
 had heard, even to have it confuted. 
 
 I was not sure how far she did believe my 
 assurances, or thought me deceived, when I 
 strenuously denied all evil intent from Harold 
 towards his poor wife, and explained that he had 
 merely driven over a precipice in the dark, and 
 had a brain fever afterwards ; all I could see 
 was that, though not perfectly satisfied or con- 
 vinced, she found that her brother would not 
 allow the separation to be kept up, and therefore 
 she resumed her favourite office of adviser. She 
 examined me on the religious habits of my 
 nephews and niece, impressing on me that it was 
 for the sake of the latter that my presence at
 
 250 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 Arghouse was excusable ; but insisting that it 
 was incumbent on me to provide her with an 
 elderly governess, both for her sake and my own. 
 I was m.uch afraid of having the governess at 
 once thrust upon me ; but, luckily, she did not 
 happen to have one of a chaperon kind of age 
 on her list, so she contented herself with much 
 advice on what I was teaching Dora, so that 
 perhaps I grew restive and was disposed to think 
 it no concern of hers, nor did I tell her that much 
 of the direction of Dora's lessons was with a view 
 to Harold ; but she could not have been wholly 
 displeased, since she ended by telling me that 
 mine was a vast opportunity, and that the pro- 
 priety of my residence at Arghouse entirely de- 
 pended on the influence I exerted, since any ac- 
 quiescence in lax and irreligious habits would 
 render my stay hurtful to all parties. She worried 
 me into an inclination to drop all my poor little 
 endeavours, since certainly to have tried to follow 
 out all the details of her counsel would have 
 alienated all three at once. 
 
 Never was I more glad than when the luncheon-
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN. 251 
 
 bell put a stop to the conversation, and the sun 
 struggling out dispensed me from further endur- 
 ance, and set me free to go with Viola to bestow 
 her gifts, disposing on the way of the overflow 
 of talk that had been pent up for months past. 
 In the twilight, near the lodge of a favourite old 
 nurse of Dermot's, we encountered all the younger 
 gentlemen, and not only did Viola drag her 
 brother in but Harold also, to show to whom 
 was owing the arrival of her wonderful tea-pot 
 cozy. 
 
 The good woman was just going to make her 
 tea. Viola insisted on showing the use of her cozy, 
 and making everybody stay to nurse^s impromptu 
 kettledrum, and herself put in the pinches of tea. 
 Dermot chaffed all and sundry ; Viola bustled 
 about ; Harold sat on the dresser, with his blue 
 eyes gleaming in the firelight with silent amuse- 
 ment and perfect satisfaction, the cat sitting on 
 
 • 
 
 his shoulder ; and nurse, who was firmly persuaded 
 that he had rescued her dear Master Dermot from 
 the fangs of the lion, was delighted to do her best 
 
 for his entertainment. Viola insisted on displaying
 
 252 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 all the curiosities — the puzzle-cup that could not 
 be used, the horrid frog that sprang to your lips 
 in the tankard, the rolling-pin covered with senti- 
 mental poetry, and her extraordinary French pic- 
 tures on the walls. Dermot kept us full of 
 merriment, and we laughed on till the sound of 
 the dressing-bell sent us racing up to the castle 
 in joyous guilt. That kettledrum at the lodge is 
 one of the brightest spots in my memory. 
 
 We A\'ere very merry all the evening in a 
 suppressed way over the piano, Viola, Dermot, 
 and I singing, Harold looking on, and Eustace 
 being left a willing victim to the good counsel 
 lavished by my lord and my lady, who advised 
 him nearly out of his senses and into their own 
 best graces. 
 
 Rut we had not yet done with the amenities 
 of the Stympsons. The morning's post brought 
 letters to Lady Diana and Lord Erymanth, which 
 were swallowed by the lady with only a flush on 
 her brow, but which provoked from the gentle- 
 man a sharp interjection. 
 
 "Scandalous, libellous hags !'^
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN. 253 
 
 "The vara Avis?'^ inquired Dermot. 
 And in spite of Lady Diana^s warning, " Not 
 now/' Lord Erymanth declared, "'Avicc, yes! A 
 bird whose quills are quills of iron dipped in 
 venom, and her beak a brazen one, distillincf o-all 
 on all around. I shall inform her that she has 
 made herself liable to an action for libel. A 
 very fit lesson to her.'^ 
 
 "What steps shall I take, my lord.'" said 
 Eustace, with much importance. " I shall be 
 most happy to be guided by you.'' 
 
 " It is not you," said Lord Erymanth. 
 " Oh ! if it is only he, it does not signify so 
 much." 
 
 "Certainly not," observed Dermot. "What 
 sinks some floats others." 
 
 Lady Diana here succeeded in hushing up the 
 subject, Harold having said nothing all the time ; 
 but, after we broke up from breakfast, I had a 
 private view of Lady Diana's letter, which was 
 spiteful beyond description as far as we were 
 concerned ; making all manner of accusations on 
 the authority of the Australian relations ; the old
 
 2 54 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 stories exaggerated into horrible blackness, besides 
 others for which I could by no means account. 
 Gambling among the gold-diggers, horrid frays 
 in Victoria, and even cattle-stealing, were so im- 
 possible in a man who had always been a rich 
 sheep farmer, that I laughed ; yet they were told 
 by the cousins with strange circumstantiality. 
 Then came later tales — about our ways at Arg- 
 house — all as a warning against permitting any 
 intercourse of the sweet child's, which might be 
 abused. Lady Diana was angered and vexed, 
 but she was not a woman who rose above the 
 opinion of the world. Her daughter, Di Enderby, 
 was a friend of Birdie Stympson, and would be 
 shocked ; and she actually told me that I must 
 perceive that, while such things were said, it was 
 not possible — for her own Viola's sake — to keep 
 up the intimacy she would have wished. 
 
 For my part it seemed to me that, in Lady 
 Diana's position, unjust accusations against a poor 
 young girl were the very reason for befriending 
 her openly ; but her ladyship spoke in a grand, 
 authoritative, regretful way, and habitual sub-
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN. 255 
 
 mission prevented me from making any protest 
 beyond saying coldly, " I am very sorry, but I 
 cannot give up my nephews/^ 
 
 Viola was not present. It was supposed to be 
 so shocking that she could know nothing about 
 it, but she flew into my room and raged like a 
 little fury at the cruel wickedness of the Stymp- 
 sons in trying to turn everyone's friends against 
 them, and trumping up stories, and mamma giving 
 up as if she believed them. She wished she was 
 Dermot — she wished she was uncle Erymanth — 
 she wished she was anybody, to stand up and do 
 battle with those horrid women ! — anybody but a 
 poor little girl, who must obey orders and be 
 separated from her friends. And she cried, and 
 made such violent assurances that I had to 
 soothe and silence her, and remind her of her 
 first duty, &c. 
 
 Lord Erymanth was a nobler being than his 
 sister, and had reached up to clap Harold on 
 the shoulder, while declaring that these assertions 
 made no difference to him, and that he did not 
 care the value of a straw for what Avice Stymp-
 
 256 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 son might say, though Harold had no defence but 
 his own denial of half the stories, and was forced 
 to own that there was truth in some of the others. 
 He was deeply wounded. "Why cannot the 
 women let us keep our friends .-'" he said, as I 
 found him in the great hall. 
 
 " It is very hard," I said, with grief and anger. 
 
 "Verv hard on the innocent," he answered. 
 
 Then I saw he was preparing to set off to 
 walk home, twelve miles, and remonstrated, since 
 Lake Valley would probably be flooded. 
 
 " I must," he said ; " I must work it out with 
 myself, whether I do Eustace most harm or good 
 by staying here." 
 
 And off he Avent, with the long swift stride 
 that was his way of walking off vexation. I did 
 not see him again till I was going up to dress, 
 when I found him just inside the front door, 
 struggling to get off his boots, which were per- 
 fectly sodden ; while his whole dress, nay, even 
 his hair and beard, was soaked and drenched, so 
 that I taxed him with having been in the water. 
 
 " Yes, I went in after a dog," he said, and
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN. 257 
 
 as he gave a shiver, and had just pulled off his 
 second boot, I asked no more questions, but 
 hunted him upstairs to put on dry clothes with- 
 out loss of time ; and when we met at dinner, 
 Eustace was so full of our doings at the castle, 
 and Dora of hers with Miss Woolmer, that his 
 bath was entirely driven out of my head. 
 
 But the next day, as I was preparing for 
 my afternoon's walk, the unwonted sound of our 
 door-bell was heard. " Is our introduction Avorking 
 already.'" thought I, little expecting the announce- 
 ment — "The Misses Stympson." 
 
 However, there were Stympsons and Stympsons, 
 so that ev^en this did not prepare me for being 
 rushed at by all three from Lake House — two 
 aunts and one niece — Avice, Henny, and Birdie, 
 with "How is he.'" "Where is he.? He would 
 not take anything. I hope he went to bed and 
 had something hot." " Is he in the house .'' No 
 cold, I hope. We have brought the poor dear 
 fellow for him to see. He seems in pain to-day; 
 we thought he would see him." 
 
 At last I got in a question edgeways as to the 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 MV YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 antecedents, as the trio kept on answering one 
 another in chorus, " Poor dear Nep — your cousin — 
 nephew, I mean — the bravest " 
 
 Then it flashed on me. " Do you mean that 
 it was for your dog that Harold went into the 
 water yesterday V 
 
 " Oh, the bravest, most generous, the most 
 forgiving. So tender-handed ! It must be all a 
 calumny. I wish we had never believed it. He 
 could never lift a hand against anyone. We will 
 contradict all rumours. Report is so scandalous. 
 Is he within ?" 
 
 Harold had been at the Hydriot works ever 
 since breakfast, but on my first question the chorus 
 struck up again, and I might well quail at the 
 story. " Lake Mill ; you know the place, Miss 
 Alison.?" 
 
 Indeed I did. The lake, otherwise quiet to 
 sluggishness, here was fed by the rapid little 
 stream, and at the junction was a great mill, into 
 which the water w^as guided by a sharp descent, 
 which made it sweep down with tremendous 
 force, and, as I had seen from the train, the river
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN. 259 
 
 was swelled by the thaw and spread far beyond 
 its banks. "The mill-race!" I cried in horror. 
 
 "Just observe. Dear Nep has such a passion 
 for the water, and Birdie thoughtlessly threw a 
 stick some way above the weir. I never shall for- 
 get what I felt when I saw him carried along. He 
 struggled with his white pav/s, and moaned to us, 
 but we could do nothing, and we thought to have 
 seen him dashed to pieces before our eyes, when, 
 somehow, his own struggles I fancy — he is so saga- 
 cious — brought him up in a lot of weeds and stuff 
 against the post of the flood-gates, and that 
 checked him. But we saw it could not last, and 
 his strength was exhausted. Poor Birdie rushed 
 down to beg them to stop the mill, but that 
 could never have been done in time, and the 
 dear dog was on the point of being sucked in 
 by the ruthless stream, moaning and looking 
 appealingly to us for help, when, behold ! that 
 superb figure, like some divinity descending, was 
 with us, and with one brief inquiry he was in 
 the water. We called out to him that the cur- 
 rent was frightfully strong — we knew a man's
 
 2 6o MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 life ought not to be perilled ; but he just smiled, 
 
 took up the great pole that lay near, and waded 
 
 in. I cannot describe the horror of seeing him 
 
 breasting that stream, expecting, as we did, to see 
 
 him borne down by it into the Avheel. The 
 
 miller shouted to him that it was madness, but 
 
 he kept his footing like a rock. He reached the 
 
 place where the poor dog was, and the fury of 
 
 the stream was a little broken by the post, took 
 
 up poor Nep and put him over his shoulder. 
 
 Nep was so good — lay like a lamb — while Mr. 
 
 Alison fought his way back, and it was harder 
 
 still, being upwards. The miller and his men 
 
 came out and cheered, thinking at least he would 
 
 come out spent and want help ; but no, he came 
 
 out only panting a little, put down the dog, and 
 
 when it moaned and seemed hurt he felt it all 
 
 over so tenderly, found its leg was broken, took 
 
 it into the miller's kitchen, and set it like any 
 
 surgeon. He would take nothing but a cup of 
 
 tea, whatever they said, and would not change 
 
 his clothes — indeed, the miller is a small man, 
 
 so I don't see how he could — but I hope he
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN. 261 
 
 took no harm. He walked away before we could 
 thank him. But, oh dear ! what a wicked thing 
 scandal is ! I will never believe anything report 
 says again.'^ 
 
 To the end of their days the Misses Stympson 
 believed that it was the convenient impersonal 
 Rumour which had maligned Harold — not them- 
 selves. 
 
 I was just parting with them when Harold 
 appeared, and they surrounded him, with an 
 inextricable confusion of thanks — hopes that he 
 had not caught cold, and entreaties that he 
 would look at his patient, whom they had brought 
 on the back seat of the barouche to have his leg 
 examined. Harold said that his was self-taught 
 surgery, but was assured that the dog would bear 
 it better from him than any one, and could not 
 but consent. 
 
 I noticed, however, that when he had to touch 
 the great black Newfoundland dog, a strong 
 shudder ran through his whole frame, and he had 
 to put a strong force on himself, though he spoke 
 to it kindly, and it wagged its tail, and showed
 
 262 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 all the grateful, wistful affection of its kind, as he 
 attended to it with a tender skill in which his 
 former distaste w^as lost ; and the party drove 
 away entreating him to come and renew the 
 treatment on the Monday, and asking us all to 
 luncheon, but not receiving a distinct answer in 
 Eustace's absence, for he was very tenacious of 
 his rights as master of the house. 
 
 I was quite touched with the dog's parting 
 caress to his preserver, " So you have conquered 
 the birds with iron quills ! " I cried, triumphantly. 
 
 " Who were they 1 " asked Harold, astonished. 
 
 " Surely you know them 1 I never thought of 
 introducing you." 
 
 " You don't mean that they were those 
 women 1 " 
 
 " Of course they were. I thought you knew 
 you w^ere performing an act of heroic forgiveness." 
 
 Harold's unfailing politeness towards me hin- 
 dered him from saying "heroic fiddlesticks," but 
 he could not suppress a " Faugh ! " which meant 
 as much, and that mortified me considerably. 
 
 "Come now, Harry," I said, "you don't
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN. 26 t 
 
 mean that you would not have done it if you 
 had known ? ^' 
 
 " I should not have let the poor beast drown 
 because his mistresses were spiteful hags/^ And 
 there was a look on his face that made me cry 
 out in pain, " Don't, Harry ! "" 
 
 " Don't vrhat ? " 
 
 " Don't be unforgiving. Say you forgive 
 them." 
 
 " I can't. I could as soon pardon Smith." 
 
 "But you ought to pardon both. It would 
 be generous. It would be Christian." 
 
 I was sorry I had said that, for he looked 
 contemptuously and said, " So they teach you. 
 I call it weakness." 
 
 "Oh, Harry! dear Harry, no! The highest 
 strength ! " 
 
 " I don't understand that kind of talk," he 
 said. " You don't know what that Smith is to 
 my poor mother ! " 
 
 " We won't talk of him ; but, indeed, the 
 Misses Stympson are grateful to you, and are 
 sorry. Won't you go to them on Monday t "
 
 264 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 " No ! I don't like scandal-mongers/^ 
 
 " But you have quite conquered them/' 
 
 " What do you mean ? If we are the brutes 
 they tell those who would have been our friends, 
 we are not less so because I pulled a dog out of 
 the river." 
 
 The hard look was on his face, and to my 
 faint plea, " The poor dog I" 
 
 " The dog will do very well." He went 
 decisively out of the way of further persuasions, 
 and when a formal note of invitation arrived, he 
 said Eustace and I might go, but he should not. 
 He had something to do at the potteries ; and 
 as to the dog, the less it was meddled wath the 
 better. 
 
 " I know you hate black dogs," said Eustace ; 
 " I only wonder you ever touched it." 
 
 Harold's brow lowered at this, and afterwards 
 I asked Eustace to account for the strange dis- 
 like. He told me that the dogs at the store 
 had run yelping after the buggy on that fatal 
 drive, and this and the melancholy howl of the 
 dingoes had always been supposed to be the cause
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN. 26^ 
 
 of the special form of delirious fancy that had 
 haunted Harold during the illness following — 
 that he was pursued and dragged down by 
 a pack of black hounds, and that the idea had 
 so far followed him that he still had a sort of 
 alienation from dogs, though he subdued it with a 
 high hand. 
 
 He would still not go with us to Lake House, 
 for go we did. An invitation was stimulating to 
 Eustace, and though I much disliked the women» 
 I knew we could not afford to reject an advance 
 if we were not to continue out of humanity's 
 reach. 
 
 So I went, and we were made much of in 
 spite of the disappointment. 
 
 Had not Mr. Harold Alison been so kind as 
 to come over both Sunday and Monday morning 
 and see to poor Nep in his kennel before they 
 were down } Oh, yes, they had heard of it from 
 the stable-boy, and had charged him to take care 
 the gentleman came in to breakfast, but he could 
 not persuade him. Such a pity he was too busy 
 to come to-day !
 
 266 MY YOUNG ALCIDES. 
 
 Eustace gave learned and elaborate opinions 
 on Nep, and gained the hearts of the ladies, who 
 thenceforth proclaimed that Mr. Alison was a 
 wonderfully finished gentleman, considering his 
 opportunities ; but Mr. Harold was at the best a 
 rough diamond, so that once more his conquest 
 Jiad been for Eustace rather than for himself. ■ 
 They showed me, in self-justification, letters from 
 their relations in Melbourne, speaking of the noto- 
 rious Harry Alison as a huge bearded ruffian, 
 and telling horrid stories of his excesses in no 
 measured terms. Of course we denied them, and 
 represented that some other man must have borne 
 the same name, and gratitude made them agree ; 
 but the imputation lay there, ready to revive at 
 any time. And there had been something in the 
 whole affair that had not a happy effect on Harold. 
 He was more blunt, more gruff, less tolerant or 
 ready to be pleased ; Eustace's folly was no longer 
 incapable of provoking him ; and even his gentle- 
 ness towards Dora and mc was with a greater 
 effort, and he was plainly in an irritable state 
 of suppressed suffering of mind or temper, which
 
 THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN. 267 
 
 only the strong force he put upon hnnself kept 
 in check. Tvly poor Harold, would he see that 
 there were moral achievements higher than his 
 physical ones, and would he learn that even his 
 strength was not equal to them, unaided ? 
 
 END OF VOL, I. 
 
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 The present work aims to afford information and direction touch
 
 BELLES LETT RES. 
 
 the early efforts of France in poetical literature. " In one viode- 
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 late Esquire Bedel and Coroner in the University of Oxford. 
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 BELLES LETTRES, 
 
 the faculty divhte.' . . . Clever and full of kindly humour," — 
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 Gray. — the POETICAL WORKS OF DAVID GRAY. New 
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 8 BELLES LETTRES. 
 
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 ' ' A story of very tinusual merit. The entire story is well conceived, 
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 Hood (Tom).— THE PLEASANT TALE OF PUSS AND 
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 Crown 8vo. gilt. 3^. dd.
 
 BELLES LETTRES. 
 
 " The vohwie is prettily got up, and is sure to be a favourite in the 
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 Keary (A.) — Works by Miss A. Keary :— 
 JANET'S HOME. New Edition. Globe 8vo. 2s. dd. 
 
 *^ N^ever did a more charming family appear jipon the canvas ; and 
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 the Miss Austin of her generation," — SuN. 
 
 CLEMENCY FRANKLYN. New Edition. Globe 8vo. 2s. ed. 
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 TWO YEARS AGO. Fifth Edition. Crown Svo. 6j. 
 
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 HYPATIA ; or. New Foes with an Old Face. Seventh Edition. 
 
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 HEREWARD THE WAKE— LAST OF THE ENGLISH. 
 
 Second Edition. Crown Svo. 6j'. 
 
 YEAST : A Problem. Sixth Edition. Crown Svo. 5^. 
 
 ALTON LOCKE. New Edition. With a New Preface. Crown Svo. 
 ifS. 6d,
 
 10 BELLES LETTRES. 
 
 Kingsley (C.) — continued. 
 
 The author shotos, to quote the Spectator, ^^zuhatitis that con- 
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 THE WATER BABIES. A Fairy Tale for a Land Baby. New 
 Edition, with additional Illustrations by Sir Noel Paton, R.S.A., 
 and P. Skelton. Crown 8vo. cloth^ extra gilt. 5^. 
 '''' Jn fun, in humour, and in innocent imagination, as a child'' s 
 
 book we do not knaiu its equal." — London Review. '■'■Mr. 
 
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 . . . There is in the ' Water Babies ' an abundance of loit, fun, 
 
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 will surely becotne a classic." — Nonconformist. 
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 POEMS ; including The Saint's Tragedy, Andromeda, Songs, 
 
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 which many readers will be glad to possess." 
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 8vo. 5.f. 
 
 Contents: — A Charm of Birds; Chalk-Stream Studies; The 
 Fens ; My Winter- Garden ; Frotn Ocean to Sea ; North Devon. 
 
 ^^ Altogether a delightful book It exhibits the author'' s best 
 
 traits, and cannot fail to infect the reader with a love of nature 
 and of out-door life and its enjoyments. It is well calculated to 
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 could hardly be found." — British Quarterly Review. 
 
 Kingsley (H.)— Works by Henry Kingsley :— 
 TALES OF OLD TRAVEL. Re-narrated. With Eight full-page 
 Illustrations by HuARD. Fourth Edition. Crowm 8vo. cloth, 
 extra gilt. 5j, 
 
 "■We knoiu no better book for those who want knowledge or seek to 
 refresh it. As for the 'sensational,' most novels are tame com- 
 pared with these narratives." — Athen^UM. " Exactly the book 
 to interest and to do good to intelligent and high-spirited boys. " — 
 Literary Churchman.
 
 BELLES LETT RES. ii 
 
 Kingsley (H.) — continued. 
 
 THE LOST CHILD. With Eight Illustrations by Frolich 
 Crown 4to. cloth gilt. 3J. (>d. 
 "A pathetic story, and told so as to give children an interest in 
 
 Australian ways and sceneiy." — GLOBE. " Very char??iingly and 
 
 very toiichingly told.'" — SATURDAY Review. 
 OAKSHOTT CASTLE. 3 Vols. Crown 8vo. 31J. U. 
 
 * ' A^o otie -djko takes up ' Oakshott Castle ' will luillingly pmt it doiun 
 
 until the last page is turned. . . . It may fairly be considered a 
 
 capital story, full of go, and abounding in word pictures of storins 
 
 a)id wrecks." — Observer. 
 
 Knatchbull-Hugessen. — Works by E. H. Knatchbull- 
 Hugessen, M.P. : — 
 
 Mr. J^natchbiill-ffugessett has won for himself a reputation as 
 a teller of fairy-tales. " His po7t'ers," says the Times, 
 ^^ are of a very high order ; light and brilliant narrative flows 
 fi-ofti his pen, and is fed by ait invention as graceful as it is inex- 
 haustible." " Children reading his stories," the SCOTSMAN says, 
 '■^or heai-ing theni read, will have their juinds refreshed and in- 
 vigoratedas much as their bodies would be by abundance of fresh 
 air and exercise." 
 STORIES FOR MY CHILDREN. With Illustrations. Fourth 
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 " The stories are charming, and full of life ait d fun." — STANDARD. 
 " The author has an imagination as fanciful as Grit?im himself 
 while some of his stories are superior to anything that Hans ChriS' 
 tian Andersen has written." — NONCONFORMIST. 
 CRACKERS FOR CHRISTMAS. More Stories. With Illustra- 
 tions by Jellicoe and Elwes. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. ^s. 
 "A fascinating little volume, which will make him friends in every 
 household in which there are children." — DAILY News. 
 jMOONSHINE: Fairy Tales. With Illusti-ations by W. Brunton. 
 SLxth Edition. Crown Svo. cloth gilt. 5^. 
 
 " A volume of fairy tales, written not only for ungrown children, 
 but for bigger, and if you are nearly worn out, or sick, or sorry, 
 you will find it good reading. " — GRAPHIC. ' ' The most charming 
 volume of fairy tales which we have ever read. . . . IVe cannot quit 
 this very pleasant book without a word of praise to its illustrator, 
 Mr, Brunton from first to last has done admirably." — TiMES. 
 TALES AT TEA-TIME. Fairy Stories. With Seven Illustra- 
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 " Capitally illustrated by W. Brunton. . . . In frolic and fancy they 
 are quite equal to his other books. The author knows how to write 
 fairy stories as they sJiould be luritten. The whole book is full of 
 the most delightful drolleries." — TiMES. 
 QUEER FOLK. FAIRY STORIES. Illustrated by S. E. 
 Waller. Fourth Edition. Crown Svo. Cloth gilt. 5j-. 
 "Decidedly the author's happiest effort. . . . One of tJie best story 
 books of the year." — Hour.
 
 12 BELLES LETTRES. 
 
 Knatchbull-Hugessen (Louisa).— the HISTORY OF 
 PRINCE PERRYPETS. A Fairy Tale. By Louisa Knatch- 
 bull-Hugessen. With Eight Illustrations by Weigand. 
 New Edition. Crown 4to. cloth gilt. y. 6d. 
 
 ''A grand atid exciting fairy ^a/^."— MoRNiNG PosT. "A delicious 
 piece of fairy «^«j«?^t'."— Illustrated London News. 
 
 Knox.— SONGS OF CONSOLATION. By Isa Craig Knox. 
 Extra fcap. 8vo. Cloth extra, gilt edges. 4^. dd. 
 " The verses are truly sweet ; there is in them not only much genuine 
 poetic quality, but an ardent, flowing devotedness, and a pectiliar 
 skill in propounding theological tenets in the most graceful way, 
 which any divine might envy." — SCOTSMAN. 
 Latham. — SERTUM SHAKSPERIANUM, Subnexis aliquot 
 aliunde excerptis floribus. Latine reddidit Rev. H. Latham, 
 M.A. Extra fcap. 8vo. 5^-. 
 Lemon.— THE legends of number nip. By Mark 
 Lemon. With Illustrations by C. Keene. New Edition. Extra 
 fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 Life and Times of Conrad the Squirrel, a Story 
 
 for Children. By the Author of "Wandering WiUie," " Eff»e's 
 Friends," &c. With a Frontispiece by R. Farren. Second 
 Edition. Crown 8vo. y. 6d. 
 ''Having commenced on the first page, 'Jje were compelled to go on to 
 
 the conclusion, and this we predict will be the case with every one 
 
 -cvho opens the bookr—VtAA. Mall Gazette. 
 Little E Stella, and other FAIRY TALES FOR THE YOUNG. 
 i8mo. cloth extra. 2s. 6d. 
 " This is a fine story, and we thank heaven for not being too wise to 
 
 enjoy it." — DAILY NEWS. 
 
 Lowell. — Works by J. Russell Lowell :— 
 
 AMONG MY BOOKS. Six Essays. Dryden — Witchcraft — 
 Shakespeare once More— New England Two Centuries Ago— 
 Lessing— Rousseau and the Sentimentalists. Crown 8vo. Ts. bd. 
 " We may safely say the volume is one of which our chief complaint 
 ■ must be that there is not more of it. There are good sense and L ve'.y^ 
 feeling forcibly and tersely expressed in every page of his writing. 
 — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS of James Russell Lowell. 
 With Portrait, engi-aved by Jeens. iSmo. cloth extra. 4?. td. 
 ''All readers who are able to recognise and appreciate genuine verse 
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 Mall Gazette. 
 
 Lyttelton. — Works by Lord Lyttelton :— 
 
 THE "COMUS" OF MILTON, rendered into Greek Verse. 
 
 Extra fcap. 8vo. 5^-. j ■ ^^ 
 
 THE "SAMSON AGONISTES" OF MILTON, rendered into 
 
 Greek V^erse. Extra fcap. 8vo. ds. 6d.
 
 BELLES LETT RES. 13 
 
 " Classual in spirit, full of force, and true to the original.''* 
 — Guardian. 
 
 Macdonell. — FOR THE KING'S DUES. By Agnes Mac- 
 
 DONELL, Author of " Martin's Vineyard." Crown 8vo, 10s. 6d. 
 
 " It is rarely that so pleasant and unaffected piece of fiction finds its 
 
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 hnght, pleasant, and tuholesome .". . An exceedingly tender, 
 
 natural, and fascinating little love story." — MORNING PoST. 
 
 Maclaren. — the fairy family, a series of Ballads and 
 jNIetrical Tales illustrating the Fairy Mythology of Europe. By 
 Archibald Maclaren. With Frontispiece, Illustrated Title, 
 and Vignette. Crown Svo. gilt. ^s. 
 
 " A successful attempt to translate into the vernacular some of the 
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 no shirking difficulties of rhyme, and the ballad metre which is 
 oftenest employed has a great deal of the kind of ' go^ which we find 
 so seldom outside the pages of Scott. The book is of permanetit 
 value." — Guardian. 
 
 Macmillan's Magazine. — Published Monthly. Price IS. 
 
 Volumes I. to XXX. are now ready. 7^. 6d. each. 
 Macquoid. — PATTY. By Katharine S. Macquoid. Third 
 and Cheaper Edition. Crown Svo. 6s. 
 
 ^' A book to be read." — Standard, "A powerful afid fascinating 
 storv." — Daily Telegraph. The G'LO'B's. considers it *^ well- 
 written, amusing, and interesting, and has the merit of being out 
 of the ordinary run of novels.'" 
 
 Maguire, — YOUNG PRINCE MARIGOLD, AND OTHER 
 
 FAIRY STORIES. By the late John Francis Maguire, M.P. 
 
 Illustrated by S. E. "Waller. Globe Svo. gilt. 4f. ()d. 
 
 " The author has evidently studied the ways and tastes of children and 
 
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 book." — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 Marlitt (E.) — the COUNTESS GISELA. Translated from 
 the German of E. Marlitt. Crown Svo. ^s. 6d. 
 "A very beautiful story of German country life.^' — Literary 
 Churchman. 
 
 MaSSOn (Professor). — Works by David Masson, M.A., 
 
 Professor of Rhetoric and English Literature in the University 
 
 of Edinburgh. 
 
 BRITISH NOVELISTS AND THEIR STYLES. Being a Critical 
 
 Sketch of the History of British Prose Fiction. Crown Svo. ^s. 6d. 
 
 WORDSWORTH, SHELLEY, KEATS, AND OTHER 
 
 ESSAYS. Crown Svo. fj-. 
 •CHATTERTON : A Story of the Year 1770. Crown Svo. 5^-. 
 
 THE THREE DEVILS : LUTHER'S, MILTON'S, and 
 GOETHE'S ; and other Essays. Crown Svo. 5^.
 
 14 BELLES LETTRES. 
 
 Mazini. — in the golden shell ; a story of Palermo. 
 By Linda Mazini. With Illustrations. Globe 8vo. cloth gilt. 
 4J'. 6^. 
 
 '■'■ As beautiful and bright and fresh as the scenes to zvhich it ibafis 
 us over the blue Mcditerratiean, and as pure and innocent, bict 
 piquant and sprightly as the little girl who plays the part of its 
 heroine^ is this admirable little book " — Illustrated London 
 News. 
 
 Merivale. — KEATS' Hyperion, rendered into Latin Verse. 
 By C. Merivale, B.D. Second Edition. Extra fcap. 8vo. 
 
 is. ed. 
 
 Milner. — the lily of LUMLEY. By Edith Milner. 
 Crown 8vo. "Js. 6d. 
 
 " The novel is a good 07ie and decidedly worth the readitig." — 
 Examiner. "^ pretty, brightly-written story." — Literary 
 Churchman, "yi tale possessing the deepest interest." — Court 
 Journal. 
 
 Milton's Poetical Works. — Edited with Text collated from 
 the best Authorities, with Introduction and Notes by David 
 Masson. Three vols. 8vo. With Three Portraits engraved by 
 C. H. Jeens and Radcliffe. (Uniform with the Cambridge 
 Shakespeare. ) 
 
 Mistral (F.) — MIRELLE, a Pastoral Epic of Provence. Trans- 
 lated by H. Crichton. Extra fcap. 8vo. 6s. 
 " It would be hard to overpraise the sweetness and pleasing freshness 
 of this charjning epic." — Athen^UM. ^^ A good translation of 
 a poem that deserves to be known by all students of literature and 
 friends of old-world simplicity in story-telliiig." — NONCONFORMIST. 
 
 Mitford (A. B.)— TALES OF OLD JAPAN. By A. B. 
 
 MiTFORD, Second Secretary to the British Legation in Japan. 
 
 With Illustrations drawn and cut on Wood by Japanese Artists. 
 
 New and Cheaper Edition. Crown 8vo. (>s. 
 
 " They will always be interesting as memorials of a most exceptional 
 society ; ivhile, regarded si^nply as tales, they are sparkling, sensa- 
 tional, and dramatic, and the originality of their ideas and the 
 guaintness of their language give them a most captivating piquancy. 
 The illustrations are ext7-emely interesting, and for the curious in 
 such matters have a special and particular value. " — Pall Mall 
 Gazette. 
 
 Mr. Pisistratus Brown, M.P., in THE PIIGHLANDS. 
 
 New Edition, with Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 3^-. dd. 
 
 " The book is calculated to recall pleasant memoties of holidays well 
 spent, and scenes not easily to be forgotten. To those who have 
 never been in the Western Highlands, or sailed along the Frith of 
 Clyde 07! d 07t the Weste7-7i Coast, it will see?>i al77iost like afai>y 
 story. Ihere is a charm in the vohime which inakes it anythi7ig
 
 BELLES LETT RES. 15 
 
 but easy for a reader ivho has opened it to put it down until the last 
 page has been read." — Scotsman. 
 
 Mrs. Jerningham's Journal, a Poem purporting to be the 
 
 Journal of a newly-married Lady. Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 
 
 "/if is nearly a perfect gem. We have had nothing so good for a 
 long time, and those who neglect to read it are neglecting otie of 
 the jewels of contemporary history." — EDINBURGH Daily Re- 
 view. '■'■ One quality 171 the piece, sufficient of itself to claim a 
 moment's attention, is that it is unique — original, indeed, is not too 
 strong a word — in the manner of its conception and execution." 
 — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 Mudie.— STRAY LEAVES. By C. E. Mudie. New Edition. 
 
 Extra fcap. 8vo. 3^. dd. Contents: — "His and Mine" — 
 
 "Night and Day"— ''One of Many," &c. 
 
 This little volume consists of a number of poems, mostly of a genuinely 
 devotional character. " They are for the most part so exquisitely 
 sweet and delicate as to be quite a marvel of composition. They are 
 worthy of being laid up in the recesses of the heart, and recalled to 
 mernoryfrom time to time." — Illustrated London News. 
 
 Murray.— THE BALLADS AND SONGS OF SCOTLAND, 
 
 in View of their Influence on the Character of the People. By 
 
 J. Clark Murray, LL.D., Professor of Mental and Moral 
 
 Philosophy in McGill College, Montreal. Crown 8vo. 6^. 
 
 " Independently of the lucidity of the style in which the whole booh 
 
 is written, the selection of the examples alone would recommend it 
 
 to favour, 'while the geniality of the criticistn upon those examples 
 
 cannot fail to make them highly appreciated and valued."— 
 
 Morning Post. 
 
 Myers (Ernest).— the PURITANS. By Ernest Myers. 
 Extra fcap. Svo. cloth. 2s. 6d. 
 
 ' ' It is not too much to call it a really gr ami poem, stately and dig- 
 nified, and showing not only a high poetic mind, but also great 
 power over poetic expression." — Literary Churchman. 
 
 Myers (F. W. H.)— POEMS. By F. W. H. Myers. Con- 
 taining "St, Paul," "St. John," and others. Extra fcap. Svo. 
 4^. dd. 
 
 ^^ It is rare to find a writer who combines to such an extent the faculty 
 of communicating feelings with the faculty of euphonious expres- 
 sion." — Spectator. ^^ ^ St. Paul ' stands without a rival as the 
 noblest religious poem which has been written in an age which 
 beyond any other has been prolific in this class of poetry. The sub- 
 liviest conceptions are expressed in language which, for richness, 
 taste, and purity, we have never seen excelled." — JOHN BULL. 
 
 Nichol. — HANNIBAL, A HISTORICAL DRAMA. By John 
 NiCHOL, B.A. Oxon., Regius Professor of English Language and 
 Literature in the University of Glasgow. Extra fcap. Svo. 7^-. 6d. 
 " The poem covibines in no ordinary degree firmness and workman-
 
 r6 BELLES LETTRES. 
 
 ship. AftiT the lapse of many cejthiries, an English poet is found 
 paying to the great Carthagenian the woi'thiest poetical tribute 'which 
 has as yet, to our knotvledge, been afforded to his noble and stainless 
 name.'" — SATURDAY Review. 
 
 Nine Years Old.— By the Author of "St. Olave's," "When I 
 was a Little Girl," &c. Illustrated by Frolich. Third Edition. 
 Extra fcap. 8vo. cloth gilt. 4^. dd. 
 
 It is believed that this story, by the favourably known author of 
 " St. Olave's," ivill be found both highly interesting and instr74ctive 
 to the young. The volume contains eight graphic illustrations by 
 Mr. L. Frolich. The Examiner says : " Whether the readers 
 are nine years old, or tzvice, or seven times as old, they tnust enjoy 
 this pretty voluf)ie." 
 
 Noel. — BEATRICE, AND OTHER POEMS. By the Hon. 
 
 RoDEN Noel. Fcap. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 '■^ It is impossible to rectd the poem through without being powerfully 
 moved. There are passages in it ivJiich for intensity and tender- 
 ness, dear and vivid vision, spontatieous and delicate sympathy, 
 7?iay be compared with the best eff'oris of our best living writers" 
 — Spectator. 
 
 Norton. — Works by the Hon. Mrs. Norton : — 
 
 THE LADY OF LA GARAYE. With Vignette and Frontispiece. 
 New Edition, Fcap. 8vo. \s. 6d. 
 
 '^ lull of thought well expressed, and may be classed among her best 
 efforts." — Times. 
 
 OLD SIR DOUGLAS. Cheap Edition. Globe Svo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 " This varied and lively novel — this clever novel so full of character, 
 and of fine incidental remark." — SCOTSMAN. ^^ One of the 
 pleasa7ttest and healthiest stories of t?iodern fiction." — Globe. 
 
 Oliphant. — Works by Mrs. Oliphant :— 
 
 . AGNES HOPETOUN'S SCHOOLS AND HOLIDAYS. New 
 Edition with Illustrations. Royal i6mo. gilt leaves. 4^-. 6d. 
 ' ' There are few books of late years jnore fitted to touch the heart, 
 purify the feeling, and quicken and sustain right principles." — 
 Nonconformist. '■'A more gracefully written story it is impos- 
 sible to desire." — Daily News. 
 A SON OF THE SOIL. New Edition. Globe Svo. 2s. 6d. 
 ' ' It is a very different work frotn the ordinary run of novels. 
 The whole life of a jnan is portrayed in it, zuorked out zvith subtlety 
 and insight." — Athen^UM. 
 
 Our Year, a Child's Book, in Prose and Verse. By the Author 
 of "John Halifax, Gentleman." Illustrated by Clarence 
 Dobell. Royal i6mo. 3J-. dd. 
 
 ^^ It is just the book we could wish to see in the hands of every child." 
 — English Churchman. 
 
 Olrig Grange. Edited by Hermann Kunst, Philol. Professor. 
 Extra fcap. Svo. 6^-. 6d.
 
 BELLES LETTRES. 17 
 
 "A masterly and original power of impression, pouring itself forth 
 in clear, sweet, strong rhythm, ... It is a fine poem, full of life, 
 of music and of clear visivn." — North British Daily Mail. 
 
 Oxford Spectator, The. — Reprinted. Extra fcap. 8vo. 
 
 y. 6d. 
 
 '■'There is," the Saturday Review says, "all the old fun, the 
 old sense of social ease and brightness and freedom, the old medley 
 of work and indolence, of jest and earnest, that made Oxford life 
 so picturesque. " 
 
 Palgrave. — Works by Francis Turner Palgrave, M.A., late 
 
 Fellow of Exeter College, Oxford : — 
 THE FIVE DAYS' ENTERTAINMENTS AT WENTWORTH 
 
 GRANGE. A Book for Children. With Illustrations by Arthur 
 
 Hughes, and Engraved Title-page by Jeens. Small 4to. cloth 
 
 extra. 6j. 
 
 " If you want a really good book for both sexes and all ages, buy 
 this, as handsome a volume of tales as you'll find in all the 
 market. " — Athenaeum. "Exquisite both inform atul substance." 
 — Guardian. 
 
 LYRICAL POEMS. Extra fcap. 8vo. 6s. 
 
 ' ' A volume of pure quiet verse, sparkling with tender fiielodies, and 
 alive with thoughts of genuine poetry. . . . Turn where we will 
 throughout the volume, we find traces op beauty, tenderness, and 
 truth ; true poet's work, touched and refined by the master-hatid of 
 a real artist, who shows his genius even in trifles.'^ — Standard. 
 ORIGINAL HYMNS. Third Edition, enlarged, i8mo. li'. 6d. 
 " So choice, so perfect, and so refined, so tender in feeling, and so 
 scholarly in expression, that we look with special interest to every- 
 thing that he gives us." — LITERARY CHURCHMAN. 
 GOLDEN TREASURY OF THE BEST SONGS AND LYRICS. 
 
 Edited by F. T. Palgrave. See Golden Treasury Series. 
 SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS AND SONGS. Edited by F. T. 
 Palgrave. Gem Edition. With Vignette Title by Jeens. y.6d. 
 "For minute elegance no volume could possibly excel the 'Gem 
 Edition.' " — SCOTSMAN. 
 
 Parables. — twelve parables OF OUR lord, illus- 
 trated in Colours from Sketches taken in the East by McEniry, 
 with Frontispiece from a Picture by John Jellicoe, and Illumi- 
 nated Texts and Borders. Royal 4to. in Ornamental Binding. i6s. 
 The Times calls it "one of the most beautiful of modern pictorial 
 
 works;" while the GRAPHIC says "nothing in this style, so good, 
 
 has ever before been published." 
 
 Patmore. — the children's garland, from the Best 
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 Golden Treasury Edition. i8mo. 4;. bd. 
 
 ' ' The charming illustrations added to many of the poems will add 
 greatly to their value in the eyes of children." — Daily News. 
 
 B
 
 1 8 BELLES LETTRES. 
 
 Pember. — the tragedy of LESBOS. a Dramatic Poem. 
 By E. H. Pember. Fcap. 8vo. a,s. 6d. 
 
 Founded upon the story of Sappho. "He fells his story with dramatic 
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 OF ENGLAND. By Margaret E. Poole. New and Cheaper 
 
 Edition. With Frontispiece by R. Farren. Crown 8vo. y. 6d. 
 
 " Charming stories of peasant life, zvritten in something of George 
 
 Eliot's style. . . . Her stories could not be other than they are, as 
 
 literal as ti'uth, as romantic as fiction, full of pathetic touches 
 
 and strokes of genuine humour. . . . All the stories are studies 
 
 of actual life, executed with no mean art." — TiMES. 
 
 Population of an Old Pear Tree. From the French 
 
 of E. Van Bruyssel. Edited by the Author of " The Heir of 
 
 Redclyffe." With Illustrations by Becker. Cheaper Edition. 
 
 Crown 8vo. gilt. /\s. 6d. 
 
 " This is not a regular book of natm-al history, but a description 0/ 
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 become microscopic, recorded by a pen that finds dramas in every- 
 thing, and illustrated by a dainty pencil. . . . We can hardly 
 fancy anyone with a moderate turn for the curiosities of insect 
 life, or for delicate Fj'ench esprit, not being taken by these clroer 
 sketches.''^ — GUARDIAN, "^ zvhimsical and charming little book." 
 — Athen^um. 
 
 Prince Florestan of Monaco, The Fall of. By 
 
 Himself. New Edition, with Illustration and Map. 8vo. cloth. 
 
 Extra gilt edges, 5^. A French Translation, 5^. Also an Edition 
 
 for the People. Crown 8vo. is. 
 
 " Those who have read only the extracts given, will not need to be 
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 other purposes than amusement can hardly fuiss the sober and 
 sou7id political lessons with which its light pages abound, and which 
 are as much needed in England as by the nation to zvhom the author 
 directly addresses his moral." — Pall Mall Gazette. " This 
 little book /r very clever, wild with animal spirits, but shelving 
 plenty of good sense, amid all the heedless no7isense which fills so 
 many of its pages. " — Daily News. " In an age little remarkable 
 for powers of political satire, the sparkle <7/ the pages gives the^n 
 every claim to welcome. " — Standard. 
 
 Rankine.— SONGS AND fables. By W. J. McQuoRN 
 Rankine, late Professor of Civil Engineering and Mechanics at 
 Glasgow. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Realmah. — By the Author of "Friends in Council." Crown 
 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Rhoades. — poems. By James Rhoades. Fcap. 8vo. e^s. 6d.
 
 BELLES LETTRES. 19 
 
 Richardson. — THE ILIAD OF THE EAST. A Selection of 
 
 Legends dra%vn from Valmiki's Sanskrit Poem, "The Ramayana." 
 
 By Frederika Richardson. Crown 8vo. 7^. 6(/. 
 
 "// is impossible to read it -without recognizing the value and interest 
 
 of the Eastern epic. It is as fascinatijig as a fairy tale, this 
 
 rornajitic poem of India." — Globe. "A charming volume^ which 
 
 at once enmeshes the reader in its snares." — Athen^um. 
 
 Roby.— STORY OF A HOUSEHOLD, AND OTHER POEMS. 
 By Mary K. Roby. Fcap. Svo. 5^. 
 
 Rogers. — Works by J. E. Rogers :— 
 RIDICULA REDIVIVA. Old Nursery Rhymes. Illustrated in 
 Colours, with Ornamental Cover. Crown 4to. 3^. dd. 
 " The most splendid, and at the same time the most really meritorious 
 of the books specially intended for children, that we have seen." — 
 Spectator. " These large bnght pnctures will attract children to 
 really good and honest artistic work, and that ought not to be an 
 indifferent consideration with parents who propose to educate their 
 children^ — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 MORES RIDICULE Old Nursery Rhymes. Illustrated in Colours, 
 
 with Ornamental Cover. Crown 4to. 3^. dd. 
 
 *' These world-old rhymes have never had and need never wish for 
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 Times. *^ Nothing could be quainter or more absurdly comical 
 than most of the pictures, which are all carefully executed and 
 beautifully coloured. " — Globe. 
 
 RoSSetti. — Works by CHRISTINA Rossetti :— 
 
 GOBLIN MARKET, AND OTHER POEMS. With two De- 
 signs by D. G. Rossetti. Second Edition. Fcap. Svo. 5^-. 
 ''She handles her little marvel with that rare poetic discrimination 
 which neither exhausts it of its simple wonders by pushing sym- 
 bolism, too far, nor keeps those wonders in the merely fabulous and 
 capricious stage. In fact, she has produced a true children's poem, 
 which is far more delightful to the mature than to children, though 
 it would be delightful to all." — Spectator. 
 
 SPEAKING LIKENESSES. Illustrated by Arthur Hughes. 
 Crown Svo. gilt edges. 4.f. dd. 
 
 " Certain to be a delight to many a juvenile fireside circle." — Morn- 
 ing Post. 
 
 Runaway (The), a Story for the Young. By the Author of 
 " Mrs. Jemingham's Journal." With Illustrations by J. Lawson. 
 Globe Svo. gilt. 4^-. dd. 
 
 * ' This is one of the best, ij not indeed the very best, oj all the stories 
 that has come before us this Christinas. The heroines are both 
 charming, and, unlike heroines, they are as Jull of fun as of charms. 
 It is an admirable book to read aloud to the young folk wfien tJiey 
 are all gathered round the fire, and nurses and other apparitions 
 are still far away." — Saturday Review. 
 
 E 2
 
 20 BELLES LETTRES. 
 
 Ruth and her Friends, a Story for Girls. With a Frontis- 
 piece. Fourth Edition. iSmo. Cloth extra. 2s.6d. 
 " IVe wish all the school girls and home-taught girls in the land had 
 the opportunity of reading it." — NONCONFORMIST. 
 
 Scouring of the ^A^hite Horse; or, the Long 
 
 VACATION RAMBLE OF A LONDON CLERK. Illustrated 
 by Doyle. Imp. i6mo. Cheaper Issue. 3^. 6d. 
 
 Shairp (Principal). — KILMAHOE, a Highland Pastoral, with 
 
 other Poems. By John Campbell Shairp, Principal of the 
 
 United College, St. Andrews. Fcap. 8vo. 5^. 
 
 *^ Kilmahoe is a Highland Pastoral, redolent of the warm soft air 
 
 of the 7vester7t lochs and tnoors, sketched out with remarkable 
 
 grace and picturesqueness.'''' — Saturday Review. 
 
 Shakespeare. — The Works of William Shakespeare. Cam- 
 bridge Edition. Edited by W. George Clark, M.A. and W. 
 Aldis Wright, M.A. Nine vols. 8vo. cloth. 4/. i4j-. 60^. 
 The Guardian calls it an '■^ excellent, and, to the student, almost 
 indispensable edition ;" and theY.yiAMi't^'EK calls it ^^ an unrivalled 
 edition. " 
 
 Shakespeare's Tempest. Edited with Glossarial and Ex- 
 planatory Notes, by the Rev. J. M. Jephson. New Edition. 
 l8mo. \s. 
 
 Slip (A) in the Fens. — illustrated by the Author. Crown 
 8vo. 6j. 
 
 " An artistic little volume, for every page is a picture." — Times. "// 
 7uill be read with pleasure, and with a pleasure that is altogether 
 innocent. " — SATURDAY Review. 
 
 Smith. — POEMS. By Catherine Barnard Smith. Fcap. 
 8vo. 5J-. 
 
 Smedley — TWO DRAMATIC POEMS. By Menella Bute 
 Smedley, Author of " Lady Grace," Sec. Extra fcap. 8vo. 6s. 
 " A really beautiful drama." — AtheN/EUM. 
 
 Smith (Rev. Walter).— hymns of Christ and the 
 
 CHRISTIAN LIFE. By the Rev. Walter C. Smith, M.A. 
 
 Fcap. Svo. ()s. 
 
 " These are among the s^veetest sacred poems we have read for a long 
 time. With no profuse imagery, expressing a ra7ige of feeling 
 and expressio7i by no means uncofnmon, they are true and elevated, 
 and their pathos is Profound and simple.'" — Nonconformist. 
 
 Stanley, — TRUE TO life.— A SIMPLE STORY. By Mary 
 Stanley. Crown Svo. lOi-. 6d. 
 
 " For many a long day we have not met with a more simple, healthy, 
 and unpretending story." — Standard. 
 
 Stephen (C. E.)— the service of the POOR; being 
 an Inquiry into the Reasons for and against the Establishment of
 
 BELLES LETTRES. 2i 
 
 Religious Sisterhoods for Charitable Purposes. By Caroline 
 
 Emilia Stephen. Crown 8vo. 6j. 6^. 
 
 *'/^ touches incidentally and with much wisdom and tenderness on 
 so many of the relations of women, particularly of single zvomen, 
 with society, that it may be read ivith advantage by jnany who 
 have never thozcght of entering a Sisterhood." — Spectator. 
 
 Stephens (J. B.)— CONVICT ONCE. A Poem. By J. 
 Brunton Stephens. Extra fcap. 8vo. 3^. 6d. 
 " It is as far more interesting than ninety-nine novels out of a 
 
 hundred, as it is superior to them in power, worth, and beauty. 
 
 We should most strongly advise everybody to read ' Convict Once, ' " 
 
 — Westminster Review. 
 
 Streets and Lanes of a City : Being the Reminiscences 
 of Amy Button. With a Preface by the Bishop of Salis- 
 bury. Second and Cheaper Edition. Globe 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 "One of the most really striking books that has ever co7ne before us.'' 
 — Literary Churchman. 
 
 Strivelyne — THE PRINCESS OF SILVERLAND; and 
 
 other Tales. By Elsie Strivelyne. With Frontispiece by Sir 
 
 Noel Baton. Globe 8vo. gilt. 45-. 
 
 *' Delightfully fresh and original." — Graphic. 
 
 " Readable and pleasant." — AtheN/EUM. 
 
 Thring. — SCHOOL SONGS. A Collection of Songs for Schools. 
 With the Music arranged for four Voices. Edited by the Rev. E. 
 Thring and H. Riccius. Folio. 75. 6^. 
 
 Tom Brown's School Days. — By An Old Boy. 
 
 Golden Treasury Edition, i^. bd. People's Edition, zs. 
 
 With Seven Illustrations by A. Hughes and Sydney Hall. 
 
 Crown 8vo. 61. 
 
 " The most famous boy's book in the language" — Daily News. 
 
 Tom Brown at Oxford. — New Edition. With lUustrations. 
 Crown 8vo. bs. 
 
 "In no other work that we can call to mind are the finer qualities of 
 the English gentlei?ian more happily portrayed" — Daily News. 
 "A book of g}-eat power and truth." — NATIONAL Review. 
 
 Trench. — Works by R. Chenevix Trench, D.D., Archbishop 
 of Dublin. (For other Works by this Author, see Theological, 
 Historical, and Philosophical Catalogues.) 
 
 POEMS. Collected and arranged anew. Fcap. 8vo. 7j. 6d. 
 
 ELEGIAC POEMS. Third Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 CALDERON'S LIFE'S A DREAM : The Great Theatre of the 
 World. With an Essay on his Life and Genius. Fcap. 8vo. t\s. 6d. 
 
 " HOUSEHOLD BOOK OF ENGLISH POETRY. Selected and 
 arranged, with Notes, by Archbishop Trench. Second Edition. 
 Extra fcap. 8vo. 5^. 6d. 
 ' ' The A rchbishop has conferred in this delightful volume an important
 
 22 BELLES LETTRES. 
 
 Trench (Archbishop) — continued. 
 
 gift on the whole English-speaking population of the world," — 
 Pall Mall Gazette. 
 SACRED LATIN POETRY, Chiefly Lyrical. Selected and 
 arranged for Use. By Arclibishop Trench. Third Edition, 
 Corrected and Improved. Fcap. 8vo. 7^, 
 JUSTIN MARTYR, AND OTHER POEMS. Fifth Edition. 
 Fcap. 8vo. 6j-. 
 
 Trollope (Anthony). — SIR HARRY HOTSPUR OF 
 
 HUMBLETHWAITE. By Anthony Trollope, Author of 
 
 " Framley Parsonage," etc. Cheap Edition. Globe 8vo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 The Athen^UM remarks : '^ No reader %vho begins to read this book 
 
 is likely to lay it doivn until the last page is turned. This brilliant 
 
 novel appears to us decidedly more successful than any other of Mr. 
 
 Trollops s shorter stories." 
 
 Turner. — Works by the Rev. Charles Tennyson Turner : — 
 
 SONNETS. Dedicated to his Brother, the Poet Laureate. Fcap. 
 
 8vo. 6^. dd. 
 SMALL TABLEAUX. Fcap. 8vo. 4J. 6d. 
 
 Tyrwhitt — our SKETCHING CLUB. Letters and Studies 
 on Landscape Art. By Rev. R. St. John Tyrwhitt, M.A. 
 With an Authorized Reproduction of the Lessons and Woodcuts 
 in Professor Ruskin's "Elements of Drawing." Crown 8vo. 
 7J-. 6d. 
 
 Under the Limes. — By the Author of "Christina North." 
 Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 " One of the prettiest and best told stories which it has been our 
 goodjortune to read for a longtime.'''' — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 Vittoria Colonna.— LIFE AND POEMS. By Mrs. Henry 
 RoscoE. Crown 8vo. 9^-. 
 
 Waller. — six WEEKS IN THE SADDLE : A Painter's Journal 
 in Iceland. By S. E. Waller. Illustrated by the Author. 
 Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 
 " An exceedingly pleasant a}ui naturally zvj'itten little book. . . Afr. 
 Waller has a clever pencil, and the text is well illustrated with, his 
 own sketches." — Times. 
 
 Wandering Willie. By the Author ol "Effie's Friends," and 
 " John Hatherton." Third Edition. . Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 " This is an idyll of rare truth and beauty. . . . The story is simpU 
 and touching, the style oj extraordinary delicacy, precision, and 
 pictuj-esqueness. . . . A charming gift-book for young ladies not 
 yet pro/noted to novels, and will at/iply repay those of their dders 
 who may give an hour to its perusal." — Daily News. 
 
 "Webster. — Works by Augusta Webster : — 
 
 "// Mrs. Webster only remains true to herself, she will assuredly
 
 BELLES LETTRES. 23 
 
 AA^e b S t e r — continued. 
 
 take a higher rank as a poet than any woman has yet done." — 
 Westminster Review. 
 
 DRAMATIC STUDIES. Extra fcap. 8vo. i,s. 
 
 "A voiut?te as strongly marked by perfect taste as by poetic power." —^ 
 Nonconformist. 
 
 A WOMAN SOLD, AND OTHER POEMS. Crown 8vo. 'js. 6d. 
 "Mrs. Webster has shown us that she is able to d-raw admirably 
 from the lije ; that she can observe with subtlety, and render her 
 observations with delicacy ; that she can impersonate complex con- 
 ceptions and venture into which few living writers can follow her. " 
 — Guardian. 
 
 PORTRAITS. Second Edition. Extra fcap. 8vo. 3J-. 6d. 
 
 '^ Mrs. Webster's poetns exhibit simplicity and tenderness . . . her 
 taste is perfect . . . This simplicity is combined with a subtlety of 
 thought, feeling, and observation which demand that attention which 
 only real lovers of poetry are apt to bestow." — WESTMINSTER 
 Review. 
 
 PROMETHEUS BOUND OF ^SCHYLUS. Literally translated 
 
 into English Verse. Extra fcap. 8vo. 3^. dd. 
 
 "Closeness and simplicity combined with literary skill." — Athe- 
 N^UM. *' Airs. Webster's ^Dramatic Studies' and ' Traiislatioii 
 of Prometheus'' have won for her an ho7ioiirable place among our 
 female poets. She writes %mth remarkable vigour a>id dramatic 
 realization, and bids fair to be the most successful claimant of Mrs. 
 Browning's mantle." — BRITISH Quarterly Review. 
 
 MEDEA OF EURIPIDES. Literally translated into English 
 Verse. Extra fcap. 8vo. 3^. dd. 
 
 " Mrs. Webster's translation surpasses oitr utmost expectations. It is 
 a photop-aph of the original without any oj that harshness which 
 so often accompanies a photograph." — Westminster Review. 
 
 THE AUSPICIOUS DAY. A Dramatic Poem. Extra fcap. 
 8vo. 5j. 
 
 " The ''Auspicious Day' shows a marked advance, not only in art, 
 but, in ivhat is of far tnore imp07'tance, in breadth of thought and 
 intellectual grasp." — Westminster Review. " This drama is 
 a manifestation of high dramatic power on the part of the gifted 
 writer, and entitled to our warmest admiration, as a worthy piece 
 of work. " — Standard. 
 
 YU-PE-YA'S LUTE. A Chinese Tale in English Verse. Extra 
 fcap. 8vo. 3^. 6d. 
 
 ' ' A very charming tale, charmingly told in dainty verse, with 
 occasional lyrics of tender beauty." — Standard. " We close the 
 hook with the reneived conviction that in Airs. Webster we have a 
 profound and original poet. The book is marked not by 7nere 
 sweetness of melody — -rare as that gift is — but by the infinitely 
 rarer gifts of dramatic potver, of passion, and sympathetic insight." 
 — Westminster Review.
 
 24 BELLES LETTRES. 
 
 When I was a Little Girl, stories for children. 
 
 By the Author of "St. Olave's." Fourth Edition. Extra fcap. 
 
 8vo. 4^. ()d. With Eight Illustrations by L. Frolich. 
 
 ''''At the head, and a long way ahead, of all books for girls, we 
 place ' IVhen I was a Little GirW " — Times. "// is one of the 
 choicest morsels oj child-biography which we have met with." — 
 Nonconformist. 
 
 White.— RHYMES BY WALTER WHITE. 8vo. 'js. 6d. 
 
 Whittier,— JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER'S POETICAL 
 WORKS. Complete Edition, with Portrait engraved by C. H. 
 Jeens. i8mo. 4^-. 6d. 
 " Mr. Whittier has all the smooth melody and the pathos of the author 
 
 of 'Hiawatha,^ with a greater nicety of description and a 
 
 quainter fancy." — GRAPHIC. 
 
 Wolf.— THE LIFE AND HABITS OF WILD ANIMALS. 
 
 Twenty Illustrations by Joseph Wolf, engraved by J. W. and E. 
 
 Whymper. With descriptive Letter-press, by D. G. Elliot, 
 
 F.L.S. Super royal 4to, cloth extra, gilt edges. 2is. 
 
 This is the last series of drawings which will be made by Mr. Wolj, 
 either upott wood or stone. The Pall Mall Gazette says: 
 " The fierce, untameable side of brute nature has never received a 
 more robust and vigorous interpretation, and the various incidents 
 in which particular character is shotun are set forth with rare dra- 
 matic po^ver. For excellence that will endure, we incline to place 
 this very near the top of the list of Christ?nas books." And the 
 Art Journal observes, "Rarely, if ever, have we seen animal 
 life more forcibly and beautifully depicted than in this really 
 splendid volume. " 
 Also, an Edition in royal folio, handsomely bound in Morocco 
 
 elegant. Proofs before Letters, each Proof signed by the Engravers, 
 
 Price 8/. 8^. 
 
 Wollaston. — LYRA DEVONIENSIS. By T. V. Wollaston, 
 M.A. Fcap. 8vo. 3^. 6^. 
 
 "// is the work of a man of refined taste, of deep religious sentiment, 
 a true artist, and a good Christian." — Church Times. 
 
 Woolner. — my beautiful lady. By Thomas Woolner. 
 
 With a Vignette by Arthur Hughes. Third Edition. Fcap. 
 
 8vo. 5^. 
 
 " No man can read this poem without being struck by the fitness and 
 
 finish of the 7uorkmatiship, so to speak, as well as by the chastened 
 
 and unpretending loftiness of thought which pervades the whole." 
 
 — Globe. 
 
 Words from the Poets. Selected by the Editor of " Rays 
 
 of Sunlight." With a Vignette and Frontispiece. iSmo. limp., is. 
 
 " The selection aims at popularity, and deserves it." — GUARDIAN. 
 
 Yonge (C. M.) — Works by Charlotte M. Yonge, 
 
 the HEIR OF REDCLYFFE. Twentieth Edition. With Illus- 
 trations. Crown 8vo. 6s,
 
 BELLES LETTRES. 25 
 
 Yonge (C. M.) — continued. 
 
 HEARTSEASE. Thirteenth Edition. With Illustrations. Crown 
 
 8vo. 6^. 
 THE DAISY CHAIN. Twelfth Edition. With Illustrations. 
 
 Crown 8vo. 6j. 
 THE TRIAL: MORE LINKS OF THE DAISY CHAIN. 
 
 Twelfth Edition. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo. ds. 
 
 DYNEVOR TERRACE. Sixth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6j-. 
 HOPES AND FEARS. Fourth Edition. Cro^vn Svo. 6s. 
 THE YOUNG STEPMOTHER. Fifth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6j. 
 CLEVER WOMAN OF THE FAMILY. Third Edition. 
 
 Crown 8vo. ds. 
 THE DOVE IN THE EAGLE'S NEST. Fourth Edition. 
 Crown 8vo. bs. 
 
 " We think the authoress of ' The Heir of Redely ffe^ has surpassed 
 her previous efforts in this illuminated chronicle of the olden ti7ne.'^ 
 — British Quarterly. 
 THE CAGED LION. Illustrated. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 
 " Prettily and tenderly written, and will with yotitig people especially 
 be a great favourite.^'' — Daily News. '■' Everybody should read 
 this." — Literary Churchman. 
 
 THE CHAPLET OF PEARLS; or, THE WHITE AND 
 BLACK RIBAUMONT. Crown 8vo. 6j-. New Edition, 
 "Miss Yonge has brought a lofty aim as well as high art to the con- 
 struction of a story which tnay claim a place among the best efforts 
 in historical romance." — Morning Post. " The plot, in truth, 
 is of the very first order of merit." — SPECTATOR. " We have 
 seldom read a more char??iing story." — GUARDIAN. 
 
 THE PRINCE AND THE PAGE. A Tale of the Last Crusade. 
 
 Illustrated. i8mo. 2s. 6d. 
 
 " A tale zuhich, we are sure, ■zdll give pleasure to many others besides 
 the young people for whom it is specially intended. . . . This 
 extremely prettily-told story does not require the guarantee afforded 
 by the naine of the author of ' The Heir of Redclyffe ' on the title- 
 page to ensure its becotning a universal favourite." — DUBLIN 
 Evening Mail. 
 THE LANCES OF LYNWOOD. New Edition, with Coloured 
 
 Illustrations. i8mo. 4J. 6d. 
 
 " The illustrations are very spirited and rich in colour, and the 
 story can hardly fail to charm the youthful reader .'''' — MANCHESTER 
 Examiner. 
 
 THE LITTLE DUKE : RICHARD THE FEARLESS. New 
 Edition. Illustrated. i8mo. is. 6d. 
 
 A STOREPIOUSE OF STORIES. First and Second Series. 
 Globe 8vo. 3J-. 6d. each. 
 
 Contents of First Series : — History of Philip Quarll — 
 Goody Twoshoes — The Governess — Jemima Placid — The Perambu-
 
 26 BELLES LETTERS. 
 
 Yonge (C. M.) — continued. 
 
 lations of a Mouse — The Village School — The Little Queen — 
 
 History of Little Jack. 
 
 " 3Iiss Yonge has done great service to the infantry of this generation 
 
 by putting these eleveti stories of sage si?nplicity within their reach." 
 
 — British Quarterly Review. 
 
 Contents of Second Series : — Family Stories — Elements of 
 Morality — A Puzzle for a Curious Girl — Blossoms of Morality. 
 
 A BOOK OF GOLDEN DEEDS OF ALL TIMES AND ALL 
 COUNTRIES. Gathered and Narrated Anew. New Edition, 
 with Twenty Illustrations by Frolich, Crown 8vo. cloth gilt. 6j. 
 (See also Golden Treasury Series). Cheap Edition, is. 
 " IVe have seen no prettier gift-book for a long time, and none which, 
 
 both for its cheapness and the spirit in which it has been compiled, 
 
 is more deserving of praise." ■ — Athen^um. 
 
 LITTLE LUCY'S WONDERFUL GLOBE. Pictured by 
 Frolich, and narrated by Charlotte M. Yonge. Second 
 Edition. Crown 4to. cloth gilt. 6j. 
 "^Lucy's IVonderful Globe^ is capital, and will give its youthful 
 
 readers more idea op foreign countries and ctistojns than any nu?nber 
 
 of books of geography or travel." — Graphic. 
 
 CAMEOS FROM ENGLISH HISTORY. From Rollo to 
 Edward II. Extra fcap. 8vo. 5^. Second Edition, enlarged, ^s. 
 
 A Second Series. THE WARS IN FRANCE. Extra fcap, 
 8vo. 5^-. 
 
 ^'Instead op dry details," says the NONCONFORMIST, "we have 
 living pictures, faithful, vivid, and striking." 
 
 P's AND Q's ; OR, THE QUESTION OF PUTTING UPON. 
 
 With Illustrations by C. O. Murray. Second Edition. Globe 
 
 8vo. cloth gilt. 4^. (yd. 
 
 ''^ One op her 7iiost successful little pieces . . . . Just what a naj'rative 
 should be, each incident simply and naturally related, 7io preaching 
 or mo7-alizing, and yet the 7noral cotnifig out most powerfully, and 
 the whole story not too long, or with the least appearance of being 
 spun out." — Literary Churchman. 
 
 THE PILLARS OF THE HOUSE; or, UNDER WODE, 
 UNDER RODE. Second Edition. Four vols, crown 8vo. 2.QS. 
 ' ' A domestic story op English professional life, which for sweetness 
 of tone and absorbing interest from fi'st to last has never been 
 rivalled." — Standard. " Miss Yonge has certainly added to 
 her already high reputation by this charming book, which, although 
 in four volumes, is not a single page too long, but keeps the reader' s 
 attention fixed to the end. Indeed we are only sorry there is not 
 another volume to cotne, and part with the Undei-wood family with 
 sincere regret." — CouRT Circular. 
 
 LADY HESTER; or, URSULA'S NARRATIVE. Second 
 Edition. Crown 8vo. 6^.
 
 GOLDEN TREASURY SERIES. 27 
 
 ' We shall not anticipate tJie interest by epitomizing the plot, butivt 
 shall otily say that readers ivill find in it all t/ie gracefulness, i-ight 
 feeling, and delicate perception which they have been long accttstomed 
 io look for in Miss Yonge's writings" — Guardian. 
 
 MACMILLAN'8 GOLDEN TREASURY SERIES. 
 
 Uniformly printed in i8mo., with Vignette Titles by Sir 
 Noel Paton, T. Woolner, W. Holman Hunt, J. E. 
 MiLLAis, Arthur Hughes, &c. Engraved on Steel by 
 Jeens. Bound in extra cloth, 45. dd. each volume. Also 
 kept in morocco and calf bindings. 
 
 " Messrs. Macmtllan have, in their Golden Treasury So-ies, especially 
 provided editio7is of statidard works, volianes of selected poetry, and 
 original compositions, which entitle this series to be called classical. 
 Nothing can be better tlian the literary execution, nothing ?nore 
 elegant than the viaterial workmanship.'^ — British Quarterly 
 Review. 
 
 The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and 
 
 LYRICAL POEMS IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 
 
 Selected and arranged, wdth Notes, by Francis Turner 
 
 Palgrave. 
 
 " This delightful little vohwie, the Golden Treasury, which contains 
 7nany of the best original lyrical pieces and songs i}i our language, 
 grouped with care and skill, so as to illustrate each other like the 
 pictures in a ivell-arranged gallery."- — Quarterly Review. 
 
 The Children's Garland from the best Poets. 
 Selected and arranged by Coventry Patmore. 
 " It includes specimens of all the gr tat masters in the art of poetry, 
 selected with the matured judgment of a tnan concentrated on 
 obtaining insight into the feelings and tastes of childhood, a7id 
 desirous to awaken its finest impulses, to cultivate its keenest sensi- 
 bilities" — Morning Post. 
 
 The Book of Praise. From the Best English Hymn Wiiters. 
 Selected and arranged by Lord Seleourne. A New and En- 
 larged Edition. 
 
 ^^ All previous compilations of this kind must undeniably for the 
 present give place to the Book of Praise. . . . The selection has 
 bee7i 77iade throughout with sou7id judgmetit and critical taste. The 
 pains i7tvolved in this conipilatio7i must have been imme7ise, e7n- 
 bracing, as it does, roery writer of note in this special provi7tce oj 
 E7iglish literature, a7id ranging over the most widely diverge7ii 
 tracks of religious thought."— ^Ar£\!K^A.Y Review.
 
 28 GOLDEN TREASURY SERIES. 
 
 The Fairy Book ; the Best Popular Fairy Stories. Selected 
 and rendered anew by the Author of " John Halifax, 
 Gentleman." 
 
 ' ' A delightful selection, in a delightful external form ; full of the 
 physical spletidour and vast opnle7ice of proper fairy tales." — 
 Spectator. 
 
 The Ballad Book, a Selection of the Choicest British Ballads. 
 Edited by William Allingham. 
 
 ' ' His taste as a Judge of old poetry zuill be found, by all acquainted with 
 the various readings of old English ballads, true enough to justify 
 his undertaking so critical a task.''^ — SATURDAY REVIEW. 
 
 The Jest Book. The Choicest Anecdotes and Sayings. Selected 
 and arranged by Mark Lemon. 
 
 " The fullest and best jest book that has yet appeared^ — Saturday 
 Review. 
 
 Bacon's Essays and Colours of Good and Evil. 
 
 With Notes and Glossarial Index. By W. Aldis Wright, 
 
 M.A. 
 
 " The beautiful little edition of Bacon'' s Essays, now before us, does 
 credit to the taste and scholarship of Mr. Aldis Wright. . . . Is 
 puts the reader in possession of all the essential literary facts and 
 chronology necessary for reading the Essays in cottnection with 
 Bacon's life and times." — SPECTATOR. 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress from this World to that which is to 
 come. By John Bunyan. 
 "A beautiful and scholarly reprint." — SPECTATOR. 
 
 The Sunday Book of Poetry for the Young. 
 
 Selected and arranged by C. F. Alexander. 
 
 " A well-selected volume of Sacred Poetry." — SPECTATOR. 
 
 A Book of Golden Deeds of All Times and All Countries- 
 Gathered and narrated anew. By the Author of "The Heir of 
 Redclyffe." 
 
 "... To the young, J or whom it is especially itttended, as a most 
 interesting collection of thrilling tales well told ; and to their elders, 
 as a useful handbook of refere7ice, and a pleasant one to take up 
 when their wish is to while away a weary half hour. We have 
 seen no prettier gift-book for a long titfie." — Athen^UM. 
 
 The Poetical Works of Robert Burns. Edited, with 
 
 Biographical Memoir, Notes, and Glossary, by Alexander 
 Smith. Two Vols. 
 
 ' ' Beyond all question this is the most beautiful edition of Burns 
 yet out." — Edinburgh Daily Review. 
 
 The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. Edited from 
 
 the Original Edition by J. W. Clark, M.A. Fellow of Trinity 
 
 College, Cambridge. 
 
 " Mutilated and modified editions of this English classic are so much
 
 GOLDEN TREASURY SERIES. 29 
 
 the rule, that a cheap and pretty copy of it, rigidly exact to the 
 original, will be a prize to manv book-buyers." — EXAMINER. 
 
 The Republic of Plato. Translated into English, with 
 Notes by J. LI. Davies, M.A. and D. J. Vaughan, M.A. 
 *'A dainty and cheap little edition.''^ — Examiner. 
 
 The Song Book. Words and Tunes from the best Poets and 
 Musicians. Selected and arranged by John Hullah, Professor 
 of Vocal Music in King's College, London. 
 
 ''A choice collection of the sterling songs of England, Scotland, and 
 Ireland, luith the music of each prefixed to the Words. How much 
 true wholesome pleasure such a book can disuse, and will diffuse, 
 we trust through many thousand families y — EXAMINER. 
 
 La Lyre Francaise. Selected and arranged, with Notes, by 
 GusTAVE I\L\sson, P'rench Master in Harrow School. 
 A selection of the best French songs and lyrical pieces. 
 
 Tom Brown's School Days. By An Old Boy. 
 
 " A perfect gem of a book. The best and most healthy book about 
 boys Jor boys that ever was 'written.'''' — Illustrated Times. 
 
 A Book of Worthies. Gathered from the Old Histories and 
 written anew by the Author of " The Heir of Redclyffe." 
 With Vignette. 
 
 '''■ An admirable addition to an admirable scries. ^^ — WESTMINSTER 
 Review. 
 
 A Book of Golden Thoughts. By Henry Attwell, 
 Knight of the Order of the Oak CrowTi. 
 ^^ Mr. Attwell has produced a book of rare value . . . - Happily it 
 is' small enough to be carried about in the pocket, and of such a com- 
 panion it would be difficult to weary." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 Guesses at Truth. By Two Brothers. New Edition. 
 
 The Cavalier and his Lady. Selections from the Works 
 of the First Duke and Duchess of Newcastle. With an Intro- 
 ductory Essay by Edward Jenkins, Author of " Ginx's Baby," 
 &c. i8mo. 4J. ()d. 
 
 ^'A charming little volume." — STANDARD. 
 
 Theologia Germanica. — Which setteth forth many fair Linea- 
 ments of Divine Truth, and saith very lofty and lovely things 
 touching a Perfect Life. Edited by Dr. Pfeiffer, from the only 
 complete manuscript yet known. Translated from the German, 
 by Susanna Winkworth. With a Preface by the Key. Charles 
 KiNGSLEY, and a Letter to the Translator by the Chevalier 
 Bunsen, D.D. 
 
 Milton's Poetical Works. — Edited, with Notes, &c., by 
 Professor Masson. Two vols. i8mo. gs. 
 
 Scottish Song, a Selection of the Choicest Lyrics of Scotland. 
 Compiled and arranged, with brief Notes, by Mary Carlyle 
 Aitkin. i8mo. 4?. 6d.
 
 30 GLOBE LIBRARY. 
 
 ^^ Miss AitkerCs exquisite collection of Scottish Song is so alluring, 
 and suggests so many topics, that ive find it difficult to lay it down. 
 The book is one that should find a place in every library, we had 
 almost said in every pocket, and the sujnmer tourist who wishes to 
 
 ■ carry tvith him into the country a volume of genuine poetry, will 
 find it difficult to select one containing within so small a co?>ipass 
 so much of rarest value." — Spectator. 
 
 IVIACMILLAN'8 GLOBE LIBRARY. 
 
 Beautifully printed on toned paper and bound in cloth extra, gilt 
 edges, price 4-r. (>d. each ; in cloth plain, y. 6d. Also kept in a 
 variety oj calf and morocco bindings at modei'ate prices. 
 
 Books, AVordsworth says, are 
 
 "the spirit breathed 
 By dead men to their kind ; " 
 
 and the aim of the pubHshers' of the Globe Library has 
 been to make it possible for the universal kin of English- 
 speaking men to hold communion with the loftiest " spirits 
 of the mighty dead ; " to put within the reach of all classes 
 complete and accurate editions, carefully and clearly printed 
 upon the best paper, in a convenient form, at a moderate 
 price, of the works of the master-minds of English 
 Literature, and occasionally of foreign literature in an 
 attractive English dress. 
 
 The Editors, by their scholarship and special study of 
 their authors, are competent to afford every assistance to 
 readers of all kinds : this assistance is rendered by original 
 biographies, glossaries of unusual or obsolete words, and 
 critical and explanatory notes. 
 
 The publishers hope, therefore, that these Globe Editions 
 may prove worthy of acceptance by all classes wherever the 
 English Language is spoken, and by their universal circula- 
 tion justify their distinctive epithet ; while at the same time 
 they spread and nourish a common sympathy with nature's 
 most "finely touched" spirits, and thus help a little to 
 " make the whole world kin." 
 
 The Saturday Review says : " The Globe Editions aj-e admirable 
 for their scholarly editing, their typographical excellence, their com- 
 pendious form, and their cheapness.'" The British Quarterly 
 Review says: "In co?npendiousness, elegance, and scholarliness, 
 the Globe Editions of Messrs. Macmillan surpass any popular series
 
 GLOBE LIBRARY. 31 
 
 of our classics hitherto given to the public. As near an approach 
 to miniature perfection as has ever been made." 
 
 Shakespeare's Complete Works. Edited by w. G. 
 
 Clark, M.A., and W. Alois Wright, M. A., of Trinity College, 
 
 Cambridge,' Editors of the "Cambridge Shakespeare," wtth 
 
 Glossary, pp. 1,075. 
 
 77z^Athen^UM says this edition is "a fnarvel of beauty, cheapness, 
 and compactness. . . . For the busy man, aboz'e all for the 
 -working student, this is the best of all existing Shakespeares." 
 And the Pall Mall Gazette observes: " To have produced 
 the C07nplete works of the world's greatest poet in such a fortn, 
 and at a priee within the reach of every one, is of itself almost 
 sufficient to give the publishers a clai?n to be considered public bene- 
 factors." 
 
 Spenser's Complete Works. Edited from the Original 
 
 Editions and Manuscripts, by R. Morris, with a Memoir by J. 
 
 W. Hales, M.A With Glossary, pp. Iv., 736. 
 
 ''Worthy— and higher praise it needs not— of the beautiful 'Globe 
 
 Series.^ The work is edited with all the care so noble a poet 
 
 deserves." — Daily News. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott's Poetical Works. Edited with a 
 
 Biographical and Critical Memoir by Fran'CIS Turner Palgrave, 
 
 and copious Notes, pp. xliii., 559. 
 
 " IVe can almost sympathise with a tniddle-aged grumbler, who, aftei- 
 reading Air. Palgrave' s memoir and introduction, should exclaim 
 — ' Why was there not such an edition of Scott when I zvas a school- 
 boy I ' " — Guardian. 
 
 Complete Works of Robert Burns. — THE POEMS, 
 
 SONGS, AND LETTERS, edited from the best Printed and 
 Manuscript Authorities, with Glossarial Index, Notes, and a 
 Biographical Memoir by Alexander Smith, pp. Ixii., 636. 
 "Admirable in all respects." — SPECTATOR. " The cheapest, the 
 
 most perfect, and the most interesting edition which has ever been 
 
 published." — Bell's Messenger. 
 
 Robinson Crusoe. Edited after the Original Editions, with a 
 Biographical Introduction by Henry Kingsley. pp. xxxi., 607. 
 "A most excellent and in every way desirable edition." — COURT 
 
 Circular. " Macmillan's ' Globe' Robitison Ci-usoe is a book to 
 
 have and to keep." — MORNiNG STAR. 
 
 Goldsmith's Miscellaneous Works. Edited, with 
 
 Biographical Introduction, by Professor Masson. pp. Ix., 695. 
 
 ' Such an adjnirable compendium of the facts of Goldsmith' s life, 
 
 and so careful and minute a delineation of the mixed traits of his 
 
 peculiar character as to be a very model of a literary biography 
 
 in little." — Scotsman. 
 
 Pope's Poetical Works. Edited, with Notes and Intro- 
 ductory Memoir, by Adolphus William Ward, M.A., Fellow
 
 32 GLOBE LIBRARY. 
 
 of St. Peter's College, Cambridge, and Professor of History in 
 
 Owens College, Manchester, pp. lii., 508. 
 
 The Literary Churchman re7narks : " The editor's own notes 
 and introductory memoir are excellent, the tnef/ioir alone would be 
 cheap and well ivorth buying at the price of the whole volume.^'' 
 
 Dryden's Poetical Works. Edited, with a Memoir, 
 
 Revised Text, and Notes, by W. D. Christie, M.A., of Trinity 
 
 College, Cambridge, pp. Ixxxvii., 662. 
 
 '■''An admirable edition, the result of great research and of a careful 
 revision of the text. The memoir prefixed contains, within less 
 than 7iinety pages, as much sound criticis7?i and as co?nprehensive 
 a biography as the student of Dryden need desire." — Pall Mall 
 Gazette. 
 Cowper's Poetical Works. Edited, with Notes and 
 
 Biographical Introduction, by William Benham, Vicar of 
 
 Addington and Professor of Modern History in Queen's College, 
 
 London, pp. Ixxiii., 536. 
 
 "il/r. Benham' s edition of Cowpei- is one of permanent value. 
 The biographical introduction is excellent, full of information , 
 singularly neat and readable and modest — indeed too modest in 
 its conwients. The notes are concise and accurate, and the editor 
 has been able to discover and introduce some hitherto imprinted 
 matter. Altogether the book is a very excellent one.'' — Saturday 
 Review. 
 Morte d'Arthur. — SIR THOMAS MALORY'S BOOK OF 
 
 KING ARTHUR AND OF HIS NOBLE KNIGHTS OF 
 
 THE ROUND TABLE. The original Edition of Caxton, 
 
 revised for Modern Use. With an Introduction by Sir Edward 
 
 Strachey, Bart. pp. xxxvii., 509. 
 ' ~' *'// is with pa- feci confidence that we recoj?imend this edition of the old 
 romance to every class of readers.'^ — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 The ^A^O^ks of Virgil. Rendered into English Prose, with 
 Introductions, Notes, Running Analysis, and an Index. By James 
 Lonsdale, M.A., late Fellow and Tutor of BaUiol College, 
 Oxford, and Classical Professor in King's College, London ; and 
 Samuel Lee, M.A., Latin Lecturer at University College, 
 London, pp. 288. 
 
 '■'■A more cojnplete edition of Virgil in English it is scarcely possible 
 to conceive than the scholarly work before us." — Globe. 
 
 The Works of Horace. Rendered into English Prose, with 
 
 Introductions, Running Analysis, Notes, and Index.- By John 
 
 Lonsdale, M.A., and Samuel Lee, M.A. 
 
 The Standard says, " To classical and non-classical readers it 
 
 will be ittvaluable as a faithful interpretation of t/ie mind and 
 
 meanitjg of tJie poet, enriched as it is with notes and dissertations 
 
 of tfie Iiighest value in the way of criticism, illustration, and 
 
 cxplariation." 
 
 LONDON: R, CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS.
 
 
 DATE 
 
 : DUE 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 GAYLORD 
 
 
 
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