ti'xJrXi^: -:::■:
 
 
 
 

 
 EVM EAEEINGTON
 
 GEORGE MEREDITH'S WORKS. 
 
 Each Xuvel complete in One Volume, price 6i' 
 
 DIANA OF THE CROSSWAYS. 
 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 THE ORDEAL OF RICHARD FEVEREL. 
 THE ADVENTURES OF HARRY RICHMOND. 
 SANDRA BELLONI, originally Emilia in England. 
 VITTORIA. 
 RHODA FLEMING. 
 BEAUCHAMP'S CAREER. 
 THE EGOIST. 
 
 THE SHAVING OF SHAGPAT, an Arabian 
 Entertainment ; and FARINA.
 
 Ex Libris 
 C K. OGDEN 
 
 EVAN HARRINaTON 
 
 ^ f 0tl£l 
 
 OEOEGE MEEEDITH 
 
 yEJr EBITIOX 
 
 LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL 
 
 Limited 
 
 1887
 
 lokdok: 
 
 PRIKIED BT J. S. \TSLTCB AST) CO-, LrSlTEn, 
 
 crrr koad. 
 
 Reprinted from stereotype plates. May, 1887.
 
 PR 
 I 88^ 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 imrVER^TTY OF CAUFOHNl 
 SANTA BABBARA 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHA.PTEE PAGE 
 
 I.— ABOVE BUTTONS 1 
 
 II. — THE HBEITAGE OF THE SON 9 
 
 III. — THE DAtJGHTEES OF THE SHEARS . .17 
 
 IV. — ON BOABD THE JOCABTA 2G 
 
 V. — THE FAMILY AND THE FUNERAL .... 42 
 
 VI. — MY GENTLEMAN ON THE EOAD 51 
 
 VII. — MOTHEE AND BON 60 
 
 VUI. — INTRODUCES AN ECCENTRIC 75 
 
 IX. — THE C0UNTE3.S IN LOW SOCIETY . 89 
 
 X. — MY GENTLEMAN ON THE EOAD AGAIN . . . . 102 
 
 XI. — DOINGS AT AN INN 114 
 
 XU. — IN WHICH ALE IS SHOWN TO HAVE ONE QUALITY OF 
 
 WINE 127 
 
 Xin. — THE MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST BECKLEY . 142 
 
 XIV. — THE COUNTESS DESCRIBES THE FIELD OF ACTION . 163 
 
 XV. — A CAPTUEE 174 
 
 XVI. — LEADS TO A SMALL SKIEMISH BETWEEN ROSE AND 
 
 EVAN 182 
 
 XVn. — IN WHICH EVAN WEITE3 HIMSELF TAILOE . . . 19-3 
 
 XVni. — IN WHICH EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN . . 208 
 
 XIX. — SECOND DESPATCH OF THE COUNTESS . . . . 227 
 
 XX. — BEEAK-NECK LEAP 233 
 
 XXI. — TRIBULATIONS AND TACTICS OF THE COUNTESS . . 242 
 XXn. — IN WHICH THE DAUGHTERS OF THE GREAT MEL 
 
 HAVE TO DIGEST HIM AT DINNER . . . 252 
 
 XXm. — TREATS OF A HANDKERCHIEF 263 
 
 XXIV. — THE COUNTESS MAKES HERSELF FELT . . . 272
 
 vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CilAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXV. IN WHICH THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR 280 
 
 XXVI.— MRS. MEL MAKES A BED FOR HERSELF AND FAMILY 296 
 XXVII.— EXHIBITS ROSE'S GENERALSHIP ; EVAN'S PER- 
 FORMANCE ON THE SECOND FIDDLE ; AND THE 
 
 WRETCHEDNESS OF THE COTTNTESS . . . 312 
 
 XXVIII.— TOM COGGLESBY'S PROPOSITION .... 323 
 
 XXIX. — PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT 334 
 
 XXX. — THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. — PART I. . . 350 
 
 XXXI. — THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. — PART II. . . 366 
 iXXII. — IN WHICH EVAN'S LIGHT BEGINS TO TWINKLE 
 
 AGAIN 381 
 
 XXXIII.— THE HERO TAKES HIS RANK IN THE ORCHESTRA . 392 
 
 XXXIV. — ^A PAGAN SACRIFICE 405 
 
 XXXV. — ROSE WOUNDED 413 
 
 XXXVI. — BEFORE BREAKFAST 418 
 
 XXXVII. — THE RETREAT FROM BECKLEY .... 425 
 
 XXXVIII.— IN WHICH WE HAVE TO SEE IN THE DARK . . 438 
 
 XXXIX.— IN THE DOMAIN OF TAILORDOM .... 444 
 
 XL.— IN WHICH THE COUNTESS STILL SCENTS GAME . 451 
 
 XLI. — REVEALS AN ABOMINABLE PLOT OP THE BROTHERS 
 
 COGGLESBY 463 
 
 XLII.— JULIANA 473 
 
 XLIII.— ROSE 476 
 
 XLIV. — CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIRATORS . . 484 
 XLV. — IN WHICH THE SHOP BECOMES THE CENTRE OF 
 
 ATTRACTION 498 
 
 XLVI. — A LOVERS' PARTING 507 
 
 XLVII. — A YEAR LATER, THE COUNTESS DE SALDAR DE 
 
 SANCORVO TO HER SISTER CAROLINE . . . 516
 
 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 ABOVE BUTTONS. 
 
 Long after the hours when tradesmen are in the habit of 
 commencing business, the shutters of a certain shop in the 
 town of Lymport-on-the-Sea remained significantly closed, 
 and it became known that death had taken Mr. Melchisedec 
 Hanington, and struck one off the list of living tailors. The 
 demise of a respectable member of this class does not ordi- 
 narily create a profound sensation. He dies, and his equals 
 debate who is to be his successor : while the rest of them who 
 have come in contact with him, very probably hear nothing 
 of his great launch and final adieu till the winding up of cash- 
 accounts; on which occasions we may augur that he is not 
 often blessed by one or other of the two great parties who sub- 
 divide this universe. In the case of Mr. Melchisedec it was 
 otherwise. This had been a grand man, despite his calling, 
 and in the teeth of opprobrious epithets against his craft. To 
 be both generally blamed, and generally liked, evinces a 
 peculiar construction of mortal. Mr. Melchisedec, whom 
 people in private called the great Mel, had been at once the 
 sad dog of Lymport, and the pride of the town. He was a 
 tailor, and he kept horses ; he was a tailor, and he had gallant 
 adventures; he was a tailor, and he shook hands with his 
 customers, finally, he was a tradesman, and he never was 
 known to have sent in a bill. Such a personage comes but 
 once in a generation, and, when he goes, men miss the man as 
 well as their money.
 
 2 EVAN HAERINGTOK 
 
 That he was dead, there could he no doubt. Kilne, the 
 publican opposite, had seen Sally, one of the domestic 
 servants, come out of the house in the early morning and 
 rush up the street to the doctor's, tossing her hands; and she, 
 not disinclined to dilute her grief, had, on her return, related 
 that her master was then at his last gasp, and had refused, in 
 so many words, to swallow the doctor. 
 
 " * I won't swallow the doctor ! ' he says, ' I won't swallow 
 the doctor! ' " Sally moaned. " ' I never touched him,' he 
 says, ' and I never will.' " 
 
 Kilne angrily declared that, in his opinion, a man who 
 rejected medicine in extremity, ought to have it forced down 
 his throat : and considering that the invalid was pretty deeply 
 in Kilne's debt, it naturally assumed the form of a dishonest 
 act on his part ; but Sally scornfully dared any one to lay hand 
 on her master, even for his own good. " For," said she, " he's 
 got his eyes awake, though he do lie so helpless. He marks 
 ye!" 
 
 " How does he look ? " said Kilne. 
 
 "Bless ye! I only seen him once since he was took," 
 returned Sally. "We're none of us allowed to come anigh 
 him — only missus." 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! " went Kilne, and sniffed the air. Sally then 
 rushed back to her duties. 
 
 " Now, there's a man ! " Kilne stuck his hands in his 
 pockets and began his meditation: which, however, was cut 
 short by the approach of his neighbour Barnes the butcher, 
 to whom he confided what he had heard, and who ejaculated 
 professionally, " Obstinate as a pig ! " As they stood together 
 they beheld Sally, a figure of telegraph, at one of the windows, 
 implying that all was just over. 
 
 "Amen ! " said Barnes, as to a matter-of-fact affair. 
 
 Some minutes after the two were joined by Grossby the 
 confectioner, who listened to the news, and observed : 
 
 " Just like him ! I'd have sworn he'd never take doctor's 
 stuff;" and, nodding at KUne, "liked his medicine best, 
 eh?" 
 
 "Had a— hem!— good lot of it," muttered KQne, with a 
 suddenly serious brow.
 
 ABOVE BUTTONS. 3 
 
 " How does he stand on your books ? " asked Barnes. 
 
 Kilne shouldered round, crving : " Who the deuce is to 
 know?" 
 
 " /don't," Grossby sighed. " In he comes with his ' Good 
 morning, Grossby, — fine day for the hunt, Grossby, and a ten- 
 pound note. ' Have the kindness to put that down in my 
 fayoui', Grossby.' And just as I am going to say, 'Look 
 herd, — this won't do,' he has me by the collar, and there's 
 one of the regiments going to give a supper party, which he's 
 to order ; or the Admiral's wife wants the receipt for that pie ; 
 or in comes my wife, and there's no talking of business then, 
 though she may have been bothering about his account all the 
 night beforehand. Something or other! and so we run on." 
 
 " What I want to know," said Barnes the butcher, " is 
 where he got his tenners from?" 
 
 Kilne shook a sagacious head : " No knowing ! " 
 
 " I suppose we shall get something out of the fire ? " 
 Barnes suggested. 
 
 " That depends ! " answered the emphatic Kilne. 
 
 " But, you know, if the widow carries on the business," 
 said Grossby, " there's no reason why we shouldn't get it all, 
 oh ? " 
 
 " There ain't two that can make clothes for nothing, and 
 make a profit out of it," said Kilne. 
 
 "That young chap in Portugal," added Barnes, "Ae won't 
 take to tailoring when he comes home. D'ye think he 
 wiU?" 
 
 Kilne muttered: "Can't say!" and Grossby, a kindly 
 creature in his way, albeit a creditor, reverting to the first 
 subject of their discourse, ejaculated, "But what a one he 
 was ! — eh ? " 
 
 " Fine ! — to look on," Kilne assented. 
 
 " Well, he was like a Marquis," said Barnes. 
 
 Here the three regarded each other, and laughed, though 
 not loudly. They instantly checked that unseemliness, and 
 Kilne, as one who rises from the depths of a calculation with 
 tlie sum in his head, spoke quite in a different voice : 
 
 "Well, what do you say, gentlemen? shall we adjourn? 
 No use standing here." 
 
 B 2
 
 4 EVAN HAERINGTON. 
 
 By the invitation to adjourn, it was well understood by the 
 committee Kilne addressed, that they were invited to pass his 
 threshold, and partake of a morning draught. Barnes, the 
 butcher, had no objection whatever, and if Grossby, a man of 
 milder make, entertained any, the occasion and common inte- 
 rests to be discussed, advised him to waive them. In single 
 file these mourners entered the publican's house, where Kilne, 
 after summoning them from behind the bar, on the important 
 question, what it should be? and receiving, first, perfect 
 acquiescence in his views as to what it should be, and then 
 feeble suggestions of the drink best befitting that early hour 
 and the speaker's particular constitution, poured out a tooth- 
 ful to each, and one to himself. 
 
 " Here's to him, poor fellow ! " said Kilne ; and was de- 
 liberately echoed twice. 
 
 "Now, it wasn't that," Kilne pursued, pointing to the 
 bottle in the midst of a smacking of lips, " that wasn't what 
 got him into difficulties. It was expensive luckshries. It was 
 being above his condition. Horses ! What's a tradesman got to 
 do with horses ? Unless he's retired ! Then he's a gentleman, 
 and can do as he likes. It's no use trying to be a gentleman 
 if you can't pay for it. It always ends bad. "Why, there was 
 he, consorting with gentlefolks — gay as a lark ! Who has to 
 pay for it?" 
 
 Kline's fellow- victims maintained a rather doleful tributaiy 
 silence. 
 
 " I'm not saying anything against him now," the publican 
 further observed. " It's too late. And there ! I'm sorry he's 
 gone, for one. He was as kind a hearted a man as ever 
 breathed. And there ! perhaps it was just as much my fault; 
 I couldn't say ' Ko ' to him, — dash me, if I could ! " 
 
 Lymport was a prosperous town, and in prosperity the 
 much-despised British tradesman is not a harsh, he is really 
 a well-disposed, easy soul, and recjuires but managemeut, 
 manner, occasional instalments — ^just to freshen the account — 
 and a surety that he who debits is on the spot, to be a right royal 
 king of credit. Only the account must never drivel. Stare 
 aut crescere appears to be his feeling on that point, and the 
 departed Mr. Melchisedec undoubredly understood him there ;
 
 ABOVE BUTTONS. 5 
 
 for, though, the running on of the account looked so de- 
 plorable and extraordinary now that Mr. Melchisedec was 
 no longer in a position to run on with it, it was precisely 
 that fact which had prevented it from being brought to a 
 summary close long before. Both Barnes, the butcher, 
 and Grossby, the confectioner, confessed that they, too, 
 found it hard ever to say "No" to him, and, speaking 
 broadly, never could. 
 
 " Except once," said Barnes, "when he wanted me to let 
 him have a ox to roast whole out on the common, for the 
 Battle of Waterloo. I stood out against him on that. ' No, 
 no,' says I, 'I'll joint him for ye, Mr. Harrington. You 
 shall have him in joints, and eat him at home ; ' — ha ! ha ! " 
 
 "Just like him!" said Grossby, with true enjoyment of 
 the princely disposition that had dictated that patriotic 
 order. 
 
 " Oh ! — there ! " Kilne emphasized, pushing out his arm 
 across the bar, as much as to say, that in anything of that 
 kind, the great Mel never had a rival. 
 
 " That ' Marquis ' affair changed him a bit," said Barnes. 
 
 "Perhaps it did, for a time," said Kilne. " What's in 
 the grain, you know. He couldn't change. He would be 
 a gentleman, and nothing'd stop him." 
 
 " And I shouldn't wonder but what that young chap out 
 in Portugal '11 want to be one, too ; though he didn't bid 
 fair to be so fine a man as his father." 
 
 " More of a scholar," remarked Kilne. " That I call his 
 worst fault — shilly-shallying about that youDg chap. I 
 mean Aw." Kilne stretched a finger toward the dead man's 
 house. " First, the young chap's to be sent into the Navy ; 
 then it's the Army ; then he's to be a judge, and sit on 
 criminals ; then he goes out to his sister in Portugal ; and 
 now there's nothing but a tailor open to him, as I see, if 
 we're to get our money." 
 
 ' ' Ah ! and he hasn't got too much spirit to work to pay his 
 father's debts," added Barnes. "There's a business there 
 to make any man's fortune — proi:)erly directed, I say. But, 
 I suppose, like father like son, he'll be coming the Marquis, 
 too. He went to a gentleman's school, and he's had foreign
 
 6 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 training. I don't know what to think about it. His sister 
 over there — she's a fine woman." 
 
 "Oh ! a fine family, every one of 'em! and married well !" 
 exclaimed the publican. 
 
 " I ne%-er had the exact rights of that ' Marquis ' affair," 
 said Grossby; and, remembering that he had pre^•iously 
 laughed knowingly when it was alluded to, pursued: "Of 
 course I heard of it at the time, but how did he behave when 
 he was blown upon?" 
 
 Barnes undertook to expla'"n ; but Kilne, who relished the 
 narrative quite as well, and was readier, said : 
 
 " Look here ! I'll tell 5-ou. I had it from his own mouth 
 one night wht-n he wasn't — not quite himself. He was 
 coming down King William Street, where he stabled his 
 horse, you know, and I met him. He'd been dining out — 
 somewhere out over Fallowfield, I think it was ; and he sings 
 out to me, ' Ah ! Kilne, my good fellow ! ' and I, wishing to 
 be equal with him, says, 'A fine night, my lord!' and he 
 draws himself up — he smelt of good company — says he, 
 'Kilne! I'm not a lord, as you know, and you have no 
 excuse for mistaking me for one, sir ! ' So I pretended I had 
 mistaken him, and then he tucked his arm under mine, and 
 said, 'You're no worse than your betters, Kilne. They took 
 me for one at Squire Uploft's to-night, but a man who wishes 
 to pass off for more than he is, Kilne, and impose upon 
 people,' he says, * he's contemptible, Kilne ! contemptible ! ' 
 So that, you know, set me thinking about ' Bath ' and the 
 ' Marquis,' and I coiddn't help smiling to myself, and just let slip 
 a question whether he had enlightened them a bit. ' Kilne,' 
 said he, ' you're an honest man, and a neighbour, and I'll tell 
 you what happened. The Squire,' he says, ' likes my com- 
 pany, and I like his table. jSTow the Squire'd never do a 
 dirty action, but the Squire's nephew, Mr. George XJploft, he 
 can't forget that I earn my money, and once or twice I have 
 had to correct him.' And I'll wager Mel did it, too ! Well, 
 he goes on : ' There was Admiral Sir Jackson Roseley and his 
 lady, at dinner, Squire Foulke of Hursted, Lady Barrington, 
 Admiral Combleman '- -our admiral, that was ; ' Mr. This and 
 That, I forget their names — and other ladies and gentlemen
 
 ABOVE BUTTO:SS. 7 
 
 whose aequaintaiiee I was not honotired with..' You know 
 his way of talking. 'And there was a goose on the table,' 
 he says ; and, looking stem at me, 'Don't laugh yet I ' says 
 he, like thunder. Well, he goes on : ' Mr. G-eorge caught my 
 eye across the tahle, and said, so as not to be heard by his 
 uncle, " If that bird was rampant, you would see your own 
 arms, Marquis." ' And Mel replied, quietly for him to hear, 
 ' And as that bird is couehant, Mr. George, you had better 
 look to your sauce.' Couehant means squatting, you know. 
 That's 'eraldy! "Well, that wasn't bad sparring of Mel's. 
 But, bless you I he was never taken aback, and the gentle- 
 folks was glad enough to get him to sit down amongst 'em. 
 So, says Mr. George, ' I know you're a fire-eater. Marquis,' 
 and his dander was up, for he began marquising Mel, and 
 doing the moek-poKte at such a rate, that, by-and-by, one of 
 the ladies who didn't know Mel called him ' my lord ' and 
 * his lordship.' 'And,' says Mel, 'I merely bowed to her, 
 and took no notice.' So that passed off : and there sits Mel 
 telling his anecdotes, as grand as a king. And, by-and-by, 
 young Mr. George, who hadn't forgiven MeL and had been 
 pulling at the bottle pretty well, he sings out, ' It's Michael- 
 mas I the death of the goose I and I should like to drink the 
 Marquis's health 1 ' and he drank it solemn. But, as {slt as I 
 can make out, the women part of the company was a little in 
 the dark. So Mel waited till there was a sort of a pause, 
 and then speaks rather loud to the Admiral, ' By the 
 way. Sir Jackson, may I ask you, has the title of Marquis 
 anything to do with tailoring ? ' Xow Mel was a great 
 favourite with the Admiral, and with his lady, too, — ^they 
 My — and the Admiral played into his hands, you see, and, 
 says he, * I'm not aware that it has, Mr. Harrington.' And 
 he begged for to know why he a=ked the question — e^led 
 him, • Mister,' you undeistand. So Mel said, and I can see 
 him now — right out 6x>m his chest he spoke, with his head 
 up — ' TV~hen I was a younger man, I had the good taste to 
 be fond of good society, and the bad taste to wish to apj^ear 
 different from what I was in it : ' — that's Mel speakirL? : 
 everybody was listening : so he goes on : * I was in the habit 
 of going to Bath in the season, and coitsoTtJJig with the gen-
 
 8 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 tlemen I met there on terms of equality; and for some reason 
 that I am quite guiltless q// says Mel, ' the hotel people gave 
 out that I was a Marquis in disguise ; and, upon my honour, 
 ladies and gentlemen — I was young then, and a fool — I could 
 not help imagining I looked the thing. At all events, I took 
 upon myself to act the part, and with some success, and con- 
 siderable gratification ; for, in my opinion,' says l^Iel, ' no 
 real Marquis ever enjoyed his title so much as I did. One 
 day I was in my shop — Xo. 193, Main Street, Lymport — and 
 a gentleman came in to order his outfit. I received his 
 directions, when suddenly he started back, stared at me, and 
 exclaimed: " My dear Marquis ! I trust you will pardon me 
 for having addressed you with so much familiarity." I 
 recognized in him one of my Bath acquaintances. That 
 circumstance, ladies and gentlemen, has been a lesson to me. 
 Since that time I have never allowed a false impression with 
 regard to my position to exist. I desire,' says Mel, smiling, 
 * to have my exact measure taken everywhere ; and if the 
 Michaelmas bird is to be associated with me, I am sure I 
 have no objection; all I can say is, that I cannot justify it 
 by letters patent of nobility.' That's how Mel put it. Do 
 you think they thought worse of him ? I warrant you he 
 came out of it in flying colours. Gentlefolks like straight- 
 forn^ardness in their inferiors — that's what they do. Ah ! " 
 said Kilne, meditatively, " I see him now, walking across 
 the street in the moonlight, after he'd told me that. A fine 
 figure of a man ! and there ain't many Marquises to match 
 him." 
 
 To this Barnes and Grossby, not insensible to the merits of 
 the recital they had just given ear to, agreed. And with a 
 common voice of praise in the mouths of his creditors, the 
 dead man's requiem was sounded. 
 
 I
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE HEKITAGE OF THE SOX. 
 
 TowAUD evening, a carriage drove up to the door of the 
 muted house, and the card of Lady Roseley, bearing a hurried 
 line in pencil, was handed to the widow. 
 
 It was when you looked upon her that you began to com- 
 prehend how great was the personal splendour of the husband 
 who could eclipse such a woman. Mrs. Harrington was a 
 tall and a stately dame. Dressed in the high waists of the 
 matrons of that period, with a light shawl drawn close over 
 her shoulders and bosom, she carried her head well ; and her 
 pale firm features, with the cast of immediate affliction on 
 them, had much dignity : dignity of an unrelenting physical 
 order, which need not express any remarkable pride of spirit. 
 The family gossips who, on both sides, were vain of this rare 
 couple, and would always descant on their beauty, even when 
 they had occasion to slander their characters, said, to distin- 
 guish them, that Henrietta Maria had a Port, and Melchisedec 
 a Presence : and that the union of a Port and a Pre- 
 sence, and such a Port and such a Presence, was so un- 
 common, that you might search England through and you 
 would not find another, not even in the highest ranks of 
 society. There lies some subtle distinction here; due to the 
 minute perceptions which compel the gossips of a family to 
 coin phrases that shall express the nicest shades of a domestic 
 difference. By a Port, one may understand them to indicate 
 something unsympathetically impressive ; whereas a Presence 
 would seem to be a thing that directs the most affable appeal 
 to our poor human weaknesses. His Majesty King George IV., 
 for instance, possessed a Port : Beau Brummel wielded a 
 Presence. Many, it is true, take a Presence to mean no more 
 than a shirt-frill, and interpret a Port as the art of walldng 
 erect. But this is to look upon language too narrowly. 
 
 On a more intimate acquaintance with the couple, you
 
 10 E7AN HAERINGTON. 
 
 acknowledge the aptness of the fine distinction. By birth 
 Mrs. Hanington had claims to rank as a gentlewoman. That 
 is, her father was a lawyer of Lymport. The lawyer, how- 
 ever, since we mast descend the genealogical tree, was known 
 to have married his cook, who was the lady's mother. Now Mr. 
 Melchiscdec was mysterious concerning his origin; and, in 
 his cups, talked largely and wisely of a great Welsh family, 
 issuing from a line of princes ; and it is certain that he knew 
 enough of their history to have instnicted them on particular 
 points of it. He never could think that his wife had done 
 him any honour in espousing him ; nor was she the woman 
 to tell him so. She had married him for love, rejecting 
 various suitors. Squire Uploft among them, in his favour. 
 Subsequently she had committed the profound connubial 
 error of transferring her affections, or her thoughts, from him 
 to his business, which, indeed, was much in want of a mate ; 
 and while he squandered the guineas, she patiently picked 
 up the pence. They had not lived unhappily. He was con- 
 stantly courteous to her. But to see the Port at that sordid 
 work considerably ruffled the Presence — put, as it were, the 
 peculiar division between them ; and to behave toward her 
 as the same woman who had attracted his youthful ardours 
 was a task for his magnificent mind, and may have ranked 
 with him as an indemnity for his general conduct, if his 
 reflections ever stretched so far. The townspeople of Lymport 
 were correct in saying that his wife, and his wife alone, had, 
 as they termed it, kept him together. Nevertheless, now 
 that he was dead, and could no longer be kept together, they 
 entirely forgot their respect for her, in the outburst of their 
 secret admiration for the popular man. Such is the constitu- 
 tion of the inhabitants of this dear Island of Britain, so falsely 
 accused by the Great Napoleon of being a nation of shop- 
 keepers. Here let any one proclaim himself Above Buttons, 
 and act on the assumption, his fellows with one accord hoist 
 him on their heads, and bear him aloft, sweating, and groan- 
 ing, and cursing, but proud of him ! And if he can contrive, 
 or has any good wife at home to help him, to die without 
 going to the dogs, they are, one may say, unanimous in 
 crying out the same eulogistic funeral oration as that com-
 
 THE HERITAGE OF THE SON. 11 
 
 menced by Kilne, the publican, when he was interrupted by 
 Barnes, the butcher, " Now, there's a man ! — " 
 
 Mrs. Harrington was sitting in her parlour with one of 
 her married nieces, Mrs. Fiske, and on reading Lady Roseley's 
 card she gave word for her to be shown up into the drawing- 
 room. It was customary among Mrs. Harrington's female 
 relatives, who one and all abused and adored the great Mel, 
 to attribute his shortcomings pointedly to the ladies ; which 
 was as much as if their jealous generous hearts had said that 
 he was sinful, but that it was not his fault. Mrs. Fiske 
 caught the card from her aunt, read the superscription, and 
 exclaimed: " The idea ! At least she might have had the 
 decency ! She never set her foot in the house before — and 
 right enough too ! What can she want now ? I decidedly 
 would refuse to see her, aunt ! " 
 
 The widow's reply was simply, " Don't be a fool, Ann ! " 
 
 Rising, she said: "Here, take poor Jacko, and comfoi't 
 him till I come back." 
 
 Jacko was a middle-sized South American monkey, and 
 had been a pet of her husband's. He was supposed to be 
 mourning now with the rest of the family. Mrs. Fiske 
 received him on a shrinking lap, and had found time to 
 correct one of his indiscretions before she could sigh and say, 
 in the rear of her aunt's retreating figure, " I certainly never 
 would let tmjsoK down so ; " but Mrs. Harrington took her 
 own counsel, and Jacko was of her persuasion, for he quickly 
 released himself from Mrs. Fiske's dispassionate embrace, and 
 Avas slinging his body up the balusters after his mistress. 
 
 " Mrs. Harrington," said Lady Roseley, very sweetly 
 swimming to meet her as she entered the room, " I have 
 intruded upon you, I fear, in venturing to call upon you at 
 such a time ? " 
 
 The widow bowed to her, and begged her to be seated. 
 
 Lady Iloselcy was an exquisitely silken dame, in whose 
 face a winning smile was cut, and she was still sufiiciently 
 youthful not to be accused of wearing a flower too artificial. 
 
 " It was so sudden ! so sad ! " she continued. " We 
 esteemed him so much. I thought you might be in need of
 
 12 EVAN HAREINGTON. 
 
 sympathy, and hoped I might— Dear Mrs. Harrington! 
 can you bear to speak of it ? " 
 
 " I can tell you anything you wish to hear, my lady," the 
 widow replied. 
 
 Lady Roseley had expected to meet a woman much more 
 like what she conceived a tradesman's wife would be : and 
 the grave reception of her proffer of sympathy slightly con- 
 fused her. She said : 
 
 "I should not have come, at least not so early, but Sir 
 Jackson, my husband, thought, and indeed I imagined — 
 You have a son, Mrs. Harrington ? I think his name is — " 
 
 "Evan, my lady." 
 
 "Evan. It was of him we have been speaking. I imagined 
 — that is, we thought, Sir Jackson might — you wiU be writing 
 to him, and will let him know we will use our best efforts to 
 assist him in obtaining some position worthy of his — superior 
 to — something that will secure him from the harassing em- 
 barrassments of an uncongenial employment." 
 
 The widow listened to this tender allusion to the sliears 
 without a smile of gratitude. She replied : " I hope my son 
 will return in time to bury his father, and he will thank you 
 himself, my lady." 
 
 " He has no taste for — a — for anything in the shape of 
 trade, has he, Mrs. Harrington ? " 
 
 " I am afraid not, my lady." 
 
 " Any position — a situation — that of a clerk even — would 
 be so much better for him ! " 
 
 The widow remained impassive. 
 
 "And many young genthMiien I know, who are clerks, and 
 are enabled to live comfortably, and make a modest appear- 
 ance in society ; and your son, Mrs. Harrington, he would 
 find it surely an improvement upon — many would think it 
 a step for him." 
 
 " 1 am bound to thank you for the interest you take in my 
 son, my lady." 
 
 "Does it not quite suit your views, Mrs. Harrington?" 
 Lady Eoseley was surprised at the widow's manner. 
 
 " If my son had only to think of himself, my lady." 
 
 "Oh! but of course," — the lady understood her now —
 
 THE HERITAGE OF THE SON. 13 
 
 "of course! You cannot suppose, Mrs. Harrington, but 
 that I should anticipate he would have you to live with him, 
 and behave to you in every way as a dutiful son, surely ? " 
 
 "A clerk's income is not very large, my lady." 
 
 "No; but enough, as I have said, and vnth the manage- 
 ment you would bring, Mrs. Harrington, to produce a modest, 
 respectable maintenance. My respect for your husband, 
 Mrs. Harrington, makes me anxious to press my services 
 upon you." Lady Roseley could not avoid feeling hurt at 
 the widow's want of common gratitude. 
 
 "A clerk's income would not be more than 100/. a year, 
 my lady." 
 
 "To begin with — no; certainly not more." The lady was 
 growing brief. 
 
 " If my son puts by the half of that yearly, he can hardly 
 support himself and his mother, my lady." 
 
 "Half of that yearly, Mrs. Harrington ? " 
 
 " He would have to do so, and be saddled till he dies, 
 my lady." 
 
 "I reallj'- cannot see why." 
 
 Lady Roseley had a notion of some excessive niggardly 
 thrift in the widow, which was arousing symptoms of 
 disgust. 
 
 Mrs. Harrington quietly said : " There are his father's debts 
 to pay, my lady." 
 
 " His father's debts ! " 
 
 "Under 5000/., but above 4000/., my lady." 
 
 " Five thousand pounds ! Mrs. Harrington ! " The lady's 
 delicately gloved hand gently rose and fell. " And this poor 
 young man — " she pursued. 
 
 "My son will have to pay it, my lady." 
 
 Por a moment the lady had not a word to instance. Pre- 
 sently she remarked: "But, Mrs. Harrington, he is surely 
 under no legal obligation ?" 
 
 "He is only under the obligation not to cast disrespect 
 on his father's memory, my lady; and to be honest, while he 
 can." 
 
 " But, Mrs. Harrington ! surely ! what can the poor young 
 man dc?"
 
 ]4 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 " He will pay it, my lady." 
 
 "But how, Mrs. Harrington?" 
 
 " There is his father's business, my lady " 
 
 His father's business ! Then must the young man become 
 a tradesman in order to show respect for his father ? Pre- 
 posterous ! That was the lady's natural inward exclamation. 
 She said, rather shrewdly, for one who knew nothing of 
 such things: "But a business which produces debts so 
 enormous, Mrs. Harrington!" 
 
 The widow replied : "My son will have to conduct it in 
 a different way. It would be a very good business, conducted 
 properly, my lady." 
 
 " But if he has no taste for it, !Mrs. Harrington ? If he 
 is altogether superior to it ? " 
 
 For the first time during the interview, the widow's 
 inflexible countenance was mildly moved, though not to 
 any mild expression. 
 
 " My son will have not to consult his tastes," she observed: 
 and seeing the lady, after a short silence, quit her seat, she 
 rose likewise, and touched the fingers of the hand held forth 
 to her, bowing. 
 
 "You will pardon the interest I take in your son," said 
 Lady Roseley. " I hope, indeed, that his relatives and friends 
 wili procure him the means of satisfying the demands made 
 upon him." 
 
 " He would still have to pay them, my lady," was the 
 widow's answer. 
 
 "Poor young man! indeed I pity him!" sighed her 
 visitor. " You have hitherto used no efi"orts to persuade him 
 to take such a step, Mrs. Harrington ? " 
 
 " I have written to Mr. Goren, who was my husband's 
 fellow-apprentice in London, my lady; and he is willing 
 to instruct him in cutting, and measuring, and keeping 
 accounts." 
 
 Certain words in this speech were obnoxious to the fine ear 
 of Lady Roseley, and she relinquished the subject. 
 
 "Your husband, Mrs. Harrington — I should so much have 
 wished ! — he did not pass away in — in pain ! " 
 
 " He died very calmly, my lady."
 
 THE HERITAGE OF THE SON". 15 
 
 " It is so terrible, so disfiguring, sometimes. One dreads 
 to see ! — one can hardly distinguish ! I have known cases 
 where death was dreadful ! But a peaceful death is very 
 beautiful! There is nothing shocking to the mind. It 
 suggests heaven ! It seems a fulfilment of our prayers ! " 
 
 " Would your ladyship like to look upon him ?" said the 
 widow. 
 
 Lady Eoseley betrayed a sudden gleam at having her 
 desire thus intuitively fathomed. 
 
 " For one moment, Mrs. Harrington ! We esteemed him 
 so much ! May I ? " 
 
 The widow responded by opening the door, and leading her 
 into the chamber where the dead man lay. 
 
 At that period when threats of invasion had formerly 
 stirred up the military fire of us Islanders, the great Mel, as 
 if to show the great Napoleon what character of being a British 
 shopkeeper really was, had, by remarkable favour, obtained 
 a lieutenancy of militia dragoons : in the uniform of which 
 he had revelled, and perhaps, for the only time in his life, felt 
 that circumstances had suited him with a perfect fit. How- 
 ever that may be, his solemn final commands to his wife, 
 Henrietta Maria, on whom he could count for absolute 
 obedience in such matters, had been, that as soon as the 
 breath had left his body, he should be taken from his bed, 
 washed, perfumed, powdered, and in that uniform dressed 
 and laid out ; with directions that he should be so buried at 
 the expiration of three days, that havoc in his features might 
 be hidden from men. In this array Lady Roseley beheld him. 
 The curtains of the bed were drawn aside. The beams of 
 evening fell soft through the blinds of the room, and cast a 
 subdued light on the figiu'e of the vanquished warrior. The 
 Presence, dumb now for evermore, was sadly illumined for 
 its last exhibition. But one who looked closely might have 
 seen that Time had somewhat spoiled that perfect fit which 
 had aforetime been his pride ; and now that the lofty spirit 
 had departed, there had been extreme difficulty in persuading 
 the sullen excess of clay to conform to the dimensions of those 
 garments. The upper part of the chest alone would bear its
 
 16 EVAN HAERINGTON. 
 
 buttons, and across one portion of the lower limbs an ancient 
 seam had started; recalling an incident to them who had 
 known him in his brief hour of glory. For one night, as he 
 was riding home from Fallowfield, and just entering the gates 
 of the town, a mounted trooper spurred furiously past, and 
 slashing out at him, gashed his thigh. Mrs. Melchisedec 
 found him lying at his door in a not unwonted way ; carried 
 him up-stairs in her arms, as she had done many a time be- 
 fore, and did not not perceive his state till she saw the blood 
 on her gown. The cowardly assailant was never discovered ; 
 but Mel was both gallant and had, in his military career, the 
 reputation of being a martinet. Hence, divers causes were 
 suspected. The wound failed not to mend, the trousers were 
 repaired : Peace about the same time was made, and the 
 affair passed over. 
 
 Looking on the fine head and face. Lady Roseley saw 
 nothing of this. She had not looked long before she found 
 covert employment for her handkerchief. The widow stand- 
 ing beside her did not weep, or reply to her whispered excuses 
 at emotion ; gazing down on his mortal length with a sort of 
 benignant friendliness; aloof, as one whose duties to that 
 form of flesh were well-nigh done. At the feet of his master, 
 Jacko, the monkey, had jumped up, and was there squatted, 
 with his legs crossed, veiy like a tailor ! The imitative wretch 
 had got a towel, and as often as Lady Roseley's handkerchief 
 travelled to her eyes, Jacko' s peery face was hidden, and you 
 saw his lithe skinny body doing grief's convulsions : till, 
 tired of this amusement, he obtained possession of the warrior's 
 helmet, from a small round table on one side of the bed ; a 
 casque of the barbarous military- Georgian form, with a huge 
 knob of horse-hair projecting over the peak ; and under this, 
 trying to adapt it to his rogue's head, the tricksy image of 
 Death extinguished himself. 
 
 All was very silent in the room. Then the widow quietly 
 disengaged Jacko, and taking him up, went to the door, and 
 deposited him outside. During her momentary absence, Lady 
 Eoseley had time to touch the dead man's forehead with her 
 lips, unseen.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE DAUGHTERS OP THE SHEARS. 
 
 Three daughters and a son were left to the world by Mr. 
 Melchisedec. Love, well endowed, had already claimed to 
 provide for the daughters : first in the shape of a lean Marine 
 subaltern, whose days of obscuration had now passed, and 
 who had come to be a major of that corps : secondly, present- 
 ing his addresses as a brewer of distinction : thirdly, and for 
 a climax, as a Portuguese Count : no other than the Seiior 
 Silva Diaz, Conde de Saldar : and this match did seem a far 
 more resplendent one than that of the two elder sisters with 
 Major Strike and Mr. Andrew Cogglesby. But the rays of 
 neither fell visibly on Lymport. These escaped Eurydices 
 never reappeared, after being once fairly caught away from 
 the gloomy realms of Dis, otherwise Trade. All three per- 
 sons of singular beauty, a certain refinement, some Port, and 
 some Presence, hereditarily combined, they feared the clutch 
 of that fell king, and performed the widest possible circles 
 around him. Not one of them ever approached the house of 
 her parents. They were dutiful and loving children, and 
 wrote frequently; but of coarse they had to consider their 
 new position, and their husbands, and their husbands' families, 
 and the world, and what it would say, if to it the dreaded 
 rumour should penetrate ! Lymport gossips, as numerous as 
 in other parts, declared that the foreign nobleman would rave 
 in an extraordinary manner, and do things after the outlandish 
 fashion of his country : for from him, there was no doubt, the 
 shop had been most successfully veiled, and he knew not of 
 Pluto's close relationship to his lovely spouse. 
 
 The marriages had happened in this way. Balls are given 
 in country towns, where the graces of tradesmen's daughters 
 may be witnessed and admired at leisure by other than 
 tradesmen : by occasional country gentlemen of the neigh- 
 bourhood, with light minds: and also by small officers:
 
 18 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 subalterns wishing to do tender execution upon man's fair 
 enemy, and to find a distraction for their legs. The classes 
 of our social fabric have, here and there, slight connecting 
 links, and provincial public balls are one of these. They are 
 dangerous, for Cupid is no respecter of class -prejudice ; and 
 if you are the son of a retired tea -merchant, or of a village 
 doctor, or of a half-pay captain, or of anything superior, and 
 visit one of them, you are as likely to receive his shot as any 
 shopboy. Even masquerading lords at such places, have been 
 known to be slain outrigut ; and although Society allows to 
 its highest and dearest to save the honour of their families, 
 and heal their anguish, by indecorous compromise, you, if you 
 are a trifle below that mark, must not expect it. You must 
 absolutely give yourself for what you hope to get. Dreadful 
 as it sounds to philosophic ears, you must marry. This, 
 having danced with Caroline Harrington, the gallant Lieute- 
 nant Strike determined to do. Nor, when he became aware 
 of her father's occupation, did he shrink from his resolve. 
 After a month's hard courtship, he married her straight out 
 of her father's house. That he may have aU the credit due 
 to him, it must be admitted that he did not once compare, or 
 possibly permit himself to reflect on, the dissimilarity in their 
 respective ranks, and the step he had taken downward, till 
 they were man and wife : and then not in any great degree, 
 before Fortune had given him his majority; an advance the 
 good soldier frankly told his wife he did not owe to her. If 
 we may be permitted to suppose the colonel of a regiment on 
 friendly terms with one of his corporals, we have an estimate 
 of the domestic life of Major and Mrs. Strike. Among the 
 garrison males, his comrades, he passed for a disgustingly 
 jealous brute. The ladies, in their pretty language, signalized 
 him as a " finick." 
 
 Now, having achieved so capital a man-iage, Caroline, 
 worthy creature, was anxious that her sisters should not be 
 less happy, and would have them to visit her, in spite of her 
 husband's protests. 
 
 " There can be no danger," she said, for she was in fresh 
 quarters, far from the nest of contagion. The lieutenant 
 himself ungrudgingly declared that, looking on the ladies, no
 
 THE DAUGHTERS OF THE SHEARS. 19 
 
 one for an instant could suspect ; and he saw many young 
 fellows ready to be as great fools as he had been : another 
 voluntary confession he made to his wife ; for the candour of 
 which she thanked him, and pointed out that it seemed to 
 run in the family ; inasmuch as Mr. Andrew Cogglesby, his 
 rich relative, had seen and had proposed for Harriet. The 
 lieutenant flatly said he would never allow it. In fact he 
 had hitherto concealed the non -presentable portion of his 
 folly very satisfactorily from all save the mess-room, and Mr. 
 Andrew's passion was a severe dilemma to him. It need 
 scarcely be told that his wife, fortified by the ferv^id brewer, 
 defeated him utterly. "What was more, she induced him to 
 be an accomplice in deception. For though the lieutenant 
 protested that he washed his hands of it, and that it was a 
 fraud and a snare, he certainly did not avow the condition of 
 his wife's parents to Mr. Andrew, but alluded to them in 
 passing as " the country people." He supposed " the country 
 people " must be asked, he said. The brewer ofiered to go 
 down to them. But the lieutenant drew an unpleasant 
 picture of the country people, and his wife became so grave 
 at the proposition, that Mr. Andrew said, he wanted to marry 
 the lady, and not the " country people," and if she would 
 have him, there he was. There he was, behaving with a 
 particular and sagacious kindness to the raw lieutenant since 
 Harriet's arrival. If the lieutenant sent her away, Mr. 
 Andrew would infallibly pursue her, and light on a discovery. 
 Twice cursed by Love, twice the victim of tailordom, our 
 excellent Marine gave away Harriet Harrington in marriage 
 to Mr. Andrew Cogglesby. 
 
 Thus Joy clapped hands a second time, and Horror deepened 
 its shadows. 
 
 From higher ground it was natural that the concluding 
 sister should take a bolder flight. Of the loves of the fair 
 Louisa Harrington and the foreign Count, and how she first 
 encountered him in the brewer's saloons, and how she, being 
 a humorous person, laughed at his " loaf" for her, and wore 
 the colours that pleased him, and kindled and soothed his 
 jealousy, little is known beyond the fact that she espoused 
 the Count, under the auspices of the affluent brewer, and 
 
 o 2
 
 20 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 engaged that her children should be brought up in the faith 
 of the Catholic Church : which Lymport gossips called, paying 
 the Devil for her pride. 
 
 The three sisters, gloriously rescued by their own charms, 
 had now to think of their one young brother. How to make 
 him a gentleman ! That was their problem. Preserve him 
 from tailordom — from all contact with trade — they must;, 
 otherwise they would be perpetually linked to the horrid 
 thing they hoped to ou<-live and bury. A cousin of Mr. 
 Melchisedec's had risen to he an Admiral and a knight for 
 valiant action in the old war, when men could rise. Him 
 they besought to take charge of the youth, and make a dis- 
 tinguished seaman of him. He courteously declined. They 
 then attacked the married Marine — Navy or Army being 
 quite indifferent to them as long aa they could win for their 
 brother the badge of one Service, "When he is a gentleman 
 at once ! " they said, like those who see the end of their 
 laboui'S. Strikebaselypretended to second them. It would 
 have been delightful to him, of course, to have the tailor's son 
 messing at the same table, and claiming him when he pleased 
 with a familiar "Ah, brother! " andpratingof their relation- 
 ship everywhere. Strike had been a fool : in revenge for it he 
 laid out for himself a masterly career of consequent wisdom. 
 The brewer — uxorious Andrew Cogglcsby — might and would 
 have bought the commission. Strike laughed at the idea of 
 giving money for what could be got for nothing. He told 
 them to wait. 
 
 In the meantime Evan, a lad of seventeen, spent the hours 
 not devoted to his positive profession — that of gentleman — 
 in the offices of the brewery, toying with big books and 
 balances, which he despised with the combined zeal of the 
 sucking soldier and emancipated tailor. 
 
 Two years passed in attendance on the astute brother-in- 
 law, to whom Fortune now beckoned to come to her and 
 gather his laurels from the pig-tails. About the same time 
 the Countess sailed over from Lisbon on a visit to her sister 
 Hai'riet (in reality, it was whispered in the Cogglesby saloons, 
 on a diplomatic mission from the Court of Lisbon ; but that 
 could not be made ostensible). The Countess narrowly
 
 THE DAUGHTERS OF THE SHEARS. 21 
 
 examined Evan, whose steady advance in his profession both 
 her sisters praised. 
 
 "Yes," said the Countess, in a languid alien accent. 
 " He has something of his father's carriage — something. 
 Something of his delivery — his readiness." 
 
 It was a remarkable thing that these ladies thought no 
 man on earth like their father, and always cited him as the 
 example of a perfect gentleman, and yet they buried him 
 with one mind, and each mounted guard over his sepulchre, 
 to secure his ghost from an airing. 
 
 " He can Avalk, my dears, certainly, and talk — a little. 
 Tete-a-tete, I do not say. I should think there he would be 
 — a stick ! All you English are. But what sort of a bow 
 has he got, I ask you? How does he enter a room ? And, 
 then his smile ! his laugh ! He laughs like a horse — abso- 
 lutely ! There's no music in his smile. Oh ! you should see 
 a Portuguese nobleman smile. mio Deus ! honeyed, my 
 dears ! But Evan has it not. None of you English have. 
 You go so." 
 
 The Countess pressed a thumb and finger to the sides of 
 her mouth, and set her sisters laughing. 
 
 " I assure you, no better ! not a bit ! I faint in your 
 society. I ask myself — Where am I ? Among what boors 
 have I fallen ? But Evan is no worse than the rest of you ; 
 I acknowledge that. If he knew how to dress his shoulders 
 properly, and to direct his eyes — Oh ! the eyes ! you should 
 see how a Portuguese nobleman can use his eyes ! Soul ! my 
 dears, soul ! Can any of you look the unutterable without 
 being absurd ! You look so." 
 
 And the Countess hung her jaw under heavily vacuous 
 orbits, something as a sheep might yawn. 
 
 "But I acknowledge that Evan is no worse than the rest 
 of you," she repeated. " If he understood at all the manage- 
 ment of his eyes and mouth! But that's what he cannot 
 possibly learn in England — not possibly ! As for your poor 
 husband, Harriet ! one really has to remember his excellent 
 qualities to forgive him, poor man ! And that stiff bandbox 
 of a man of yours, Caroline ! " addressing the wife of the 
 Marine, '* he looks as if he were all angles and sections, and
 
 22 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 were taten to pieces every night and put together in the 
 morning. He may be a good soldier— good anything you 
 -^iU — but, Diacho! to be married to that ! He is not civilized. 
 None of you English are. You have no place in the drawing- 
 room. You are like so many intrusive oxen — absolutely! 
 One of your men trod on my toe the other night, and what 
 do you think the creatui-e did ? Jerks back, then the half of 
 him forward — I thought he was going to break in two — 
 then grins, and grunts, ' Oh ! 'm sure, beg pardon, 'm sure ! ' 
 I don't know whether he didn't say, makam 1 " 
 
 The Countess lifted her hands, and fell away in laughing 
 horror. When her humour, or her feelings generally, were 
 a little excited, she spoke her vernacular as her sisters did, 
 but immediately subsided into the deliberate delicately-syl- 
 labled drawl. 
 
 " Now that happened to me once at one of our great Balls," 
 she pursued. "I had on one side of me the Duchesse 
 Eugenia de Formosa de Fontandigua ; on the other sat the 
 Countess de Pel, a widow. And we were talking of the ices 
 that evening. Eugenia, you must know, my dears, was in 
 love with the Count Belmaraiia. I was her sole confidante. 
 The Countess de Pel — a horrible creature ! Oh ! she was the 
 Duchess's determined enemy — would have stabbed her for 
 Belmaraiia, one of the most beautiful men ! Adored by every 
 woman ! So we talked ices, Eugenia and myself, quite com- 
 fortably, and that horrible De Pel had no idea in life! 
 Eugenia had just said, ' This ice sickens me ! I do not taste 
 the flavour of the vanille.' I answered, 'It is here! It 
 must — it cannot but be here ! You love the flavour of the 
 vanille ? ' With her exquisite smile, I see her now saying, 
 ' Too well! it is necessary to me ! I live on it ! ' — when up 
 he came. In his eagerness, his foot just effleured my robe. 
 Oh ! I never shall forget ! In an instant he was down on 
 one knee : it was so momentary that none saw it but we 
 three, and done with inefiable grace. ' Pardon ! ' he said, in 
 his sweet Portuguese; * Pardon ! ' looking up — the handsomest 
 man I ever beheld ; and when I think of that odious wretch 
 the other night, with his ' Oh ! 'm sure, beg pardon, 'm sure! — 
 'pou my honour ! ' I could have kicked him — I could, indeed! "
 
 THE DAUGHTERS OF THE SHEARS. 23 
 
 Here the Countess laughed out, but relapsed into : 
 
 " Alas ! that Belmarana should have betrayed that beau- 
 tiful trusting creature to De Pel. Such scandal ! — a duel ! — 
 the Duke was wounded. For a whole year Eugenia did not 
 dare to appear at Court, but had to remain immured in her 
 country-house, where she heard that Belmarana had married 
 De Pel ! It was for her money, of course. Rich as Croesus, 
 and as wicked as the black man below ! as dear papa used 
 to say. By the way, weren't we talking of Evan ? Ah, — 
 yes ! " 
 
 And so forth. The Countess was immensely admired, and 
 though her sisters said that she was " foreignized " over- 
 much, they clung to her desperately. She seemed so entirely 
 to have eclipsed tailordom, or " Demogorgon," as the Countess 
 pleased to call it. Who could suppose this grand-mannered 
 lady, with her coroneted anecdotes and delicious breeding, 
 the daughter of that thing ? It was not possible to suppose 
 it. It seemed to defy the fact itself. 
 
 They congratulated her on her complete escape from 
 Demogorgon. The Countess smiled on them with a lovely 
 sorrow. 
 
 "Safe from the whisper, my dears ; the ceaseless dread ? 
 If you knew what I have to endure ! I sometimes envy you. 
 'Pon my honour, I sometimes wish I had married a fish- 
 monger ! Silva, indeed, is a most excellent husband. 
 Polished ! such polish as you know not of in England. He 
 has a way — a wriggle with his shoulders in company — I 
 cannot describe it to you ; so slight ! so elegant ! and he is 
 all that a woman could desire. But who could be safe in any 
 part of the earth, my dears, while papa will go about so, 
 and behave so extraordinarily ? I was at dinner at your Eng- 
 lish embassy a month ago, and there was Admiral Comble- 
 man, then on the station off Lisbon, Sir Jackson Eoseley's 
 friend, who was the Admiral at Lymport formerly. I knew 
 him at once, and thought, oh ! what shall I do ! My heart 
 was like a lump of lead. I would have given worlds that 
 we might have one of us smothered the other ! I had to sit 
 beside him — it always happens ! Thank heaven ! he did not 
 identify me. And then he told an anecdote of Papa, It was
 
 24 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 the dreadful old 'Bath' story. I thought I should have 
 died. I could not but fancy the Admiral suspected. "Was it 
 not natural ? And what do you think I had the audacity to 
 do ? I asked him coolly, whether the Mr. Harrington he 
 mentioned was not the son of Sir Abraham Harrington, of 
 Torquay, — the gentleman who lost his yacht in the Lisbon 
 waters last year ? I brought it on myself. ' Gentleman, 
 ma'am, — Ma'am! says the horrid old creature, laughing, — 
 
 * gentleman ! he's a ' I cannot speak it : I choke ! 
 
 And then he began praising Papa. Diaeho ! what I suffered. 
 But, you know, I can keep ray countenance, if I perish. I 
 am a Harrington as much as any of us ! " 
 
 And the Countess looked superb in the pride with which 
 she said she was what she would have given her hand not to be. 
 Bat few feelings are single on this globe, and junction of 
 sentiments need not imply unity in oui' yeasty compositions. 
 
 ' ' After it was over — my supplioe, ' ' continued the Countess, 
 " I was questioned by all the ladies — I mean our ladies — 
 not your EngKsh. They wanted to know how I could be 
 so civil to that intolerable man. I gained a deal of credit, 
 my dears. I laid it all on — Diplomacy." The Countess 
 laughed bitterly. " Diplomacy bears the burden of it all. 
 I pretended that Combleman could be useful to Silva. Oh ! 
 what hypocrites we all are, mio Deus ! " 
 
 The ladies listening could not gainsay this favourite claim 
 of universal brotherhood among the select who wear masks 
 instead of faces. 
 
 With regard to Evan, the Countess had far outstripped -her 
 sisters in her views. A gentleman she had discovered must 
 have one of two things — a title or money. He might have 
 all the breeding in the world ; he might be as good as an 
 angel ; but without a title or money he was under eclipse 
 almost total. On a gentleman the sun must shine. Now, 
 Evan had no title, no money. The clouds were thick above 
 the youth. To gain a title he would have to scale aged 
 mountains. There was one break in his firmament through 
 which the radiant luminary might be assisted to cast its 
 beams on him still young. That divine portal was matri-
 
 THE DAUGHTEES OF THE SHEARS. 25 
 
 mony. If he could but make a rich marriage he would 
 blaze transfigured ; all would be well ! And why shoxild not 
 Evan marry an heiress, as well as another ? 
 
 " I know a young creature who would exactly suit him," 
 said the Countess. " She is related to the embassy, and is 
 in Lisbon now. A charming child — just sixteen ! Dios ! 
 how the men rave about her ! and she isn't a beauty, — there's 
 the wonder ; and she is a little too gauche — too English in her 
 habits and ways of thinking ; likes to be admired, of course, 
 but doesn't know yet how to set about getting it. She 
 
 rather scandalizes our ladies, but when you know her ! 
 
 She will have, they say, a hundred thousand pounds in her 
 own right ! Rose Jocelyn, the daughter of Sir Franks, and 
 that eccentric Lady Jocelyn. She is with her uncle, Mel- 
 ville, the celebrated diplomate — though, to tell you the truth, 
 we turn him round our fingers, and spin him as the boys 
 used to do the cockchafers. I cannot forget our old Fallow- 
 field school-life, you see, my dears. "Well, Eose Jocelyn 
 would just suit Evan. She is just of an age to receive an 
 impression. And / would take care she did. Instance me a 
 case where I have failed ? 
 
 " Or there is the Portuguese widow, the Rostral. She's 
 thirty, certainly ; but she possesses millions ! Estates all 
 over the kingdom, and the sweetest creature. But, no. Evan 
 would be out of the way there, certainly. But — our women 
 are very nice : they have the dearest, sweetest ways : but 
 I would rather Evan did not marry one of them. And then 
 there's the religion ! " 
 
 This was a sore of the Countess's own, and she dropped a 
 tear in coming across it. 
 
 " No, my dears, it shall be Rose Jocelyn ! " she concluded: 
 " I will take Evan over with me, and see that he has oppor- 
 tunities. It shall be Rose, and then I can call her mine ; for 
 in verity I love the child." 
 
 It is not my part to dispute the Countess's love for Misa 
 Jocelyn ; and I have only to add that Evan, unaware of the 
 soft training he was to undergo, and the brilliant chance in 
 store for him, offered no impediment to the proposition that 
 he should journey to Portugal with his aunt (whose subtlest
 
 26 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 flattery was to tell him that she should not he ashamed to 
 own him there) ; and ultimately, furnished with cash for the 
 trip by the remonstrating brewer, went. 
 
 So these Parcte, daughters of the shears, arranged and 
 settled the young man's fate. His task was to learn the 
 management of his mouth, how to dress his shoulders pro- 
 perly, and to direct his eyes — rare qualities in man or 
 woman, I assure you ; the management of the mouth being 
 especially admirable, and correspondingly difiicult. These 
 achieved, he was to place his battery in position, and win 
 the heart and hand of an heiress. 
 
 Our comedy opens with his return from Portugal, in com- 
 pany with Miss Rose, the heiress ; the Honourable Melville 
 Jocelyn, the diplomate ; and the Count and Countess de 
 Saldar, refugees out of that explosive little kingdom. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ON BOABD THE JOCASTA. 
 
 Fkoji the Tagus to the Thames the Government sloop-of- 
 war, Jocasta, had made a prosperous voyage, bearing that 
 precious freight, a removed diplomatist and his family; for 
 whose uses let a sufficient vindication be found in the exer- 
 cise he affords our crews in the science of seamanship. 
 She entered our noble river somewhat early on a fine July 
 morning. Early as it was, two young people, who had 
 nothing to do with the trimming or guiding of the vessel, 
 stood on deck, and watched the double-shore, beginning to 
 embrace them more and more closely as they sailed onward. 
 One, a young lady, veiy young in manner, wore a black felt 
 hat with a floating scarlet feather, and was clad about the 
 shoulders in a mantle of foreign style and pattern. The other 
 you might have taken for a wandering Don, were such an 
 object ever known; so simply he assumed the dusky som- 
 brero and dangling cloak, of which one fold was flung across 
 his breast and drooped behind him. The line of an adolescent
 
 ON BOAED THE JOCASTA. 27 
 
 dark moustache ran along his lip, and only at intervals could 
 you see that his eyes were blue and of the land he was 
 nearing. For the youth was meditative, and held his head 
 much down. The young lady, on the contrary, permitted an 
 open inspection of her countenance, and seemed, for the 
 moment at least, to be neither caring nor thinking of what 
 kind of judgement would be passed on her. Her pretty nose 
 was up, sniffing the still salt breeze with vivacious delight. 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried, clapping her hands, " there goes a dear 
 old English gull ! How I have wished to see him ! I haven't 
 seen one for two years and seven months. When I'm at 
 home, I'll leave my window open all night, just to hear the 
 rooks, when they wake in the morning. There goes another 
 dear old gull ! I'm sure they're not like foreign ones ! Do 
 you think they are ? " 
 
 "Without waiting for a reply, she tossed up her nose again, 
 exclaiming : 
 
 "I'm sure I smell England nearer and nearer! Don't 
 you ? I smell the fields, and the cows in them. I declare 
 I'd have given anything to be a dairy-maid for half an hour ! 
 I used to lie and pant in that stifling air among those stupid 
 people, and wonder why anybody ever left England. Aren't 
 you glad to come back ? " 
 
 This time the fair speaker lent her eyes to the question, 
 and shut her lips ; sweet, cold, chaste lips she had : a mouth 
 that had not yet dreamed of kisses, and most honest eyes. 
 
 The young man felt that they were not to be satisfied by his 
 own, and after seeking to fill them with a doleful look, which 
 was immediately succeeded by one of superhuman indifference, 
 he answered : 
 
 "Yes! We shall soon have to part!" and commenced 
 tapping with his foot the cheerful martyr's march. 
 
 Speech that has to be hauled from the depths usually 
 betrays the effort. Listening an instant to catch the import 
 of this cavernous gasp upon the brink of sound, the girl 
 said: 
 
 " Part ? what do you mean ? " 
 
 Apparently it required a yet vaster effort to pronounce an 
 explanation. The doleful look, the superhuman indifference.
 
 28 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 were repeated in due order : sound, a little more distinct, 
 uttered the words : 
 
 " "We cannot remain as we have been, in England! " and 
 then the cheerful martyr took a few steps farther. 
 
 " Why, you don't mean to say you're going to give me up, 
 and not be friends with me, because we've come back to 
 England?" cried the girl in a rapid breath, eyeing him 
 sei'iously. 
 
 Most conscientioiasly he did not mean it ! but he replied 
 with the quietest negative. 
 
 " No ? " she mimicked him. " Why do you say * No ' like 
 that ? Why are you so mysterious, Evan ? Won't you pro- 
 mise me to come and stop with us for weeks ? Haven't you 
 said we would ride, and hunt, and fish together, and read 
 books, and do all sorts of things ? " 
 
 He replied with the quietest affirmative. 
 
 " Yes ? What does ' Yes ! ' mean ? " She lifted her chest 
 to shake out the dead-alive monosyllable, as he had done. 
 "Why are you so singular this morning, Evan? Have I 
 oflfended you ? You are so touchy ! " 
 
 The slur on his reputation for sensitiveness induced the 
 young man to attempt being more explicit. 
 
 " I mean," he said, hesitating; " why, we must part. We 
 shall not see each other every day. Nothing more than that." 
 And away went the cheerful martyr in his sublimest mood. 
 
 "Oh! and that makes you sorry?" A shade of archness 
 was in her voice. 
 
 The girl waited as if to collect something in her mind, and 
 was now a patronizing woman. 
 
 " Why, you dear sentimental boy ! You don't suppose we 
 could see each other every day for everf^ 
 
 It was perhaps the cruelest question that could have been 
 addressed to the sentimental boy from her mouth. But he 
 was a cheerful martyr 1 
 
 "You dear Don Doloroso ! " she resumed. "I declare 
 if you are not just like those young Portugals this morning; 
 and over there you were such a dear English fellow ; and 
 that's why I liked you so much ! Do change ! Do, please, 
 be lively, and yourself again. Or mind ; I'll call you Don
 
 ON BOAED THE JOCASTA. 29 
 
 Doloroso, and that shall be your name in England. See 
 there! — that's — that's? — what's the name of that place? 
 Hoy! Mr. Skerne!" She hailed the boatswain, passing, 
 " Do tell me the name of that place." 
 
 Mr. Skerne righted about to satisfy her minutely, and then 
 coming up to Evan, he touched his hat, and said : 
 
 "I mayn't have another opportunity — we shall be busy 
 up there — of thankin' you again, sir, for what you did for 
 my poor drunken brother Bill, and you may take my word I 
 won't forget it, sir, if he does; and I suppose he'll be drown- 
 ing his memory just as he was near drowning himself." 
 
 Evan muttered something, grimaced civilly, and turned 
 away. The girl's observant brows were moved to a faittly 
 critical frown, and nodding intelligently to the boatswaii/s 
 remark, that the young gentleman did not seem quite himself, 
 now that he was nearing home, she went up to Evan, and 
 said: 
 
 "I'm going to give you a lesson in manners, to be quits 
 with you. Listen, sir. Why did you turn away so un- 
 graciously from Mr. Skerne, while he was thanking you for 
 having saved his brother's life? Now there's where you're 
 too English. Can't you bear to be thanked ? " 
 
 "I don't want to be thanked because I can swim," said 
 Evan. 
 
 "But it is not that. Oh, how you trifle! " she cried. 
 " There's nothing vexes me so much as that way you have. 
 Wouldn't my eyes have sparkled if anybody had come up to 
 me to thank me for such a thing ? I would let them know 
 how glad I was to have done such a thing ! Doesn't it make 
 them happier, dear Evan ? " 
 
 " My dear Miss Jocelyn ! " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 Evan stood silent. The honest grey eyes fixed on him, 
 narrowed their enlarged lids. She gazed before her on the 
 deck, saying: 
 
 "I'm sure I can't understand you. I suppose it's because 
 I'm a girl, and I never shall till I'm a woman. Heigho ! " 
 
 A youth who is engaged in the occupation of eating his 
 heart, cannot shine to advantage, and is as much a burden to
 
 so EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 himself as he is an enigma to others. Evan felt this ; but he 
 could do nothing and say nothing ; so he retired deeper into 
 the folds of the Don, and remained picturesque and scarcely 
 pleasant. 
 
 They were relieved by a summons to breakfast from below. 
 
 She brightened and laughed. " Now, what will you wager 
 me, Evan, that the Countess doesn't begin : ' Sweet child ! 
 how does she this morning? blooming?' when she kisses 
 me?" 
 
 Her capital imitation of his sister's manner constrained him 
 to join in her laugh, and he said : 
 
 "I'U back against that, I get three fingers from your 
 uncle, and ' Morrow, young sir ! " 
 
 Down they ran together, laughing ; and, sure enough, the 
 identical words of the respective greetings were employed, 
 which they had to enjoy with all the discretion they could 
 muster. 
 
 Rose went round the table to her little cousin Alec, 
 aged seven, kissed his reluctant cheek, and sat beside him, 
 announcing a sea appetite and great capabilities, while Evan 
 silently broke bread. The Count de Saldar, a diminutive 
 tawny man, just a head and neck above the tablecloth, sat 
 sipping chocolate and fingering dry toast, which he would 
 now and then dip in jelly, and suck with placidity, in the 
 intervals of a curt exchange of French with the wife of the 
 Hon. Melville, a ringleted English lady, or of Portuguese 
 with the Countess, who likewise sipped chocolate and 
 fingered dry toast, and was mournfully melodious. The Hon. 
 Melville, as became a tall islander, carved beef, and ate of it, 
 like a ruler of men. Beautiful to see was the compassionate 
 sympathy of the Countess's face when Rose offered her plate 
 for a portion of the world-subjugating viand, as who should 
 say: " Sweet child! thou knowest not yet of sorrows, thou 
 canst ballast thy stomach with beef!" In any other than 
 an heiress, she would probably have thought : " This is 
 indeed a disgusting little animal, and most unfeminine con- 
 duct ! " 
 
 Rose, unconscious of praise or blame, rivalled her uncle in 
 enjoyment of the fare, and talked of her delight in seeinr
 
 ON BOARD THE JOCASTA. 31 
 
 England again, and anything that belonged to her native 
 land. Mrs. Melville perceived that it pained the refugee 
 Countess, and gave her the glance intelligible ; but the 
 Countess never missed glances, or failed to interpret them. 
 She said : 
 
 "Let her. I love to hear the sweet child's prattle." 
 
 " It was fortunate " (she addressed the diplomatist) "that 
 we touched at S^Titharapton and procured fresh provision ! " 
 
 "Very lucky for ws/" said he, glaring shrewdly between 
 a mouthful. 
 
 The Count heard the word " Southampton," and wished to 
 know how it was comprised. A passage of Portuguese ensued, 
 and then the Countess said : 
 
 " Silva, you know, desired to relinquish the vessel at 
 Southampton. He does not comprehend the word ' expense,' 
 but" (she shook a dumb Alas !) " I must think of that for 
 him now ! " 
 
 " Oh ! always avoid expense," said the Hon. Melville, 
 accustomed to be paid for by his country. 
 
 " At what time shall we arrive, may I ask, do you think ? " 
 the Countess gently inquired. 
 
 The watch of a man who had his eye on Time was pulled 
 out, and she was told it might be two hours before dark. 
 Another reckoning, keenly balanced, informed the company 
 that the day's papers could be expected on board somewhere 
 about three o'clock in the afternoon. 
 
 " And then," said the Hon. Melville, nodding general 
 gratulation, " we shall know how the world wags." 
 
 How it had been wagging the Countess's straining eyes 
 under closed eyelids were eloquent of. 
 
 " Too late, I fear me, to wait upon Lord Livelyston to- 
 night?" she suggested. 
 
 "To-night?" The Hon. Melville gazed blank astonish- 
 ment at the notion. " Oh ! certainly, too late to-night. 
 A — hum ! I think, madam, you had better not be in too great 
 a hurry to see him. Repose a little. Recover your fatigue." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed the Countess, with a beam of utter 
 confidence in him, " I shall be too happy to place myself in 
 your hands — believe me."
 
 32 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 This was scarcely more to the taste of the diplomatist. He 
 put up his mouth, and said, blandly : 
 
 "I fear — you know, madam, I must warn you beforehand 
 — I, personally, am but an insignificant unit over here, you 
 know ; I, personally, can't guarantee much assistance to you 
 — not positive. What I can do — of course, very happy ! " 
 And he fell to again upon the beef. 
 
 " Not so very insignificant ! " said the Countess, smiling, 
 as at a softly radiant conception of him. 
 
 " Have to bob and bow like the rest of them over here,'' 
 he added, proof against the flattery. 
 
 " But that you will not forsake Silva, I am convinced," 
 said the Countess ; and, paying little heed to his brief ' ' Oh I 
 what I can do," continued, "for over here, in England, we 
 are almost friendless. My relations — such as are left of 
 them — are not in high place." She turned to Mrs. Melville, 
 and renewed the confession with a proud humility. " Truly, 
 I have not a distant cousin in the Cabinet ! " 
 
 Mrs. Melville met her sad smile, and returned it, as one 
 who understood its entire import. 
 
 "My brother-in-law — my sister, I think, you know — 
 married a — a brewer ! He is rich ; but, well ! such was her 
 taste ! My brother-in-law is indeed in Parliament, and 
 he—" 
 
 " Yery little use, seeing he votes with the opposite party," 
 the diplomatist interrupted her. 
 
 " Ah ! but he will not," said the Countess, serenely. " I 
 can trust with confidence that, if it is for Silva's interest, 
 he will assuredly so dispose of his influence as to suit the 
 desiderations of his family, and not in any way oppose his 
 opinions to the powers that would willingly stoop to serve 
 us!" 
 
 It was impossible for the Hon. Melville to withhold a 
 slight grimace at his beef, when he heard this extremely 
 alienized idea of the nature of a member of the Parliament of 
 Great Britain. He allowed her to enjoy her delusion, as she 
 pursued : 
 
 " No. So much we could off'er in repayment. It is little ! 
 But this, in verity, is a case. Silva's wrongs have only to be
 
 ON BOARD THE JOCASTA. 3*} 
 
 known in England, and I am most assured that the English 
 people will not permit it. In the daj-s of his prosperity, 
 Silva was a friend to England, and England should not — 
 should not — forget it now. Had we money ! But of that 
 arm our enemies have deprived us : and, I fear, without it 
 we cannot hope to have the justice of our cause pleaded in 
 the English papers. Mr. Redner, you know, the corre- 
 spondent in Lisbon, is a sworn foe to Silva. And why but 
 because I would not procure him an invitation to Court ! 
 The man was so horridly vulgar ; his gloves were never 
 clean ; I had to hold a bouquet to my nose when I talked 
 to him. That, you say, was my fault ! Truly so. But 
 what woman can be civil to a low-bred, pretentious, offen- 
 sive man ? " 
 
 Mrs. Melville, again appealed to, smiled perfect sympathy, 
 and said, to account for his character : 
 
 " Yes. He is the son of a small shopkeeper of some kind, 
 in Southampton, I hear." 
 
 " A very good fellow in his way," said her husband. 
 
 " Oh ! I can't bear that class of people," Rose exclaimed. 
 "I always keep out of their way. You can always tell 
 them." 
 
 The Countess smiled considerate approbation of her exclu- 
 siveness and discernment. So sweet a smile ! 
 
 " You were on deck early, my dear?" she asked Evan, 
 rather abruptly. 
 
 Master Alec answered for him : " Yes, he was, and so was 
 Rose. They made an appointment, just as they used to do 
 under the oranges." 
 
 " Children ! " the Countess smiled to Mrs. Melville. 
 
 " They always whisper when I'm by," Alec appended. 
 
 "Children!" the Countess's sweetened visage entreated 
 Mrs. Melville to re-echo ; but that lady thought it best for 
 the moment to direct Rose to look to her packing, now that 
 she had done breakfast. 
 
 "And I wiU take a walk with my brother on deck," said 
 the Countess. " Silva is too harassed for converse." 
 
 The parties were thus divided. The silent Count was left 
 to meditate on his wrongs in the saloon ; and the di2)lomatist,
 
 34 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 alone with his lady, thought fit to say to her, shortly : 
 "Perhaps it would be as well to draw away from these 
 people a little. We've done as much as we could for them, 
 in bringing them over here. They may be trying to com- 
 promise us. That woman's absurd. She's ashamed of the 
 brewer, and yet she wants to sell him — or wants us to buy 
 him. Ha ! I think she wants us to send a couple of frigates, 
 and threaten bombardment of the capital, if they don't 
 take her husband back, and receive him with honours." 
 
 " Perhaps it would be as well," said Mrs. Melville. "Rose's 
 invitation to him goes for nothing." 
 
 " Eose ? inviting the Count ? down to Hampshire ? " The 
 diplomatist's brows were lifted. 
 
 " No, I mean the other," said the diplomatist's wife. 
 
 " Oh! the young fellow ! very good young fellow. Gentle- 
 manly. No harm in him." 
 
 " Perhaps not," said the diplomatist's wife. 
 
 " You don't suppose he expects us to keep him on, or pro- 
 vide for him over here — eh ? " 
 
 The diplomatist's wife informed him that such was not her 
 thought, that he did not understand, and that it did not 
 matter; and as soon as the Hon. Melville saw that she was 
 brooding something essentially feminine, and which had no 
 relationship to the great game of public life, curiosity was 
 extinguished in him. 
 
 On deck the Countess paced with Evan, and was for a time 
 pleasantly diverted by the admiration she could, without 
 looking, perceive that her sorrow-subdued graces had aroused 
 in the breast of a susceptible naval lieutenant. At last she 
 spoke : 
 
 " My dear ! remember this. Your last word to Mr. Jocelyn 
 wiU be : ' I will do myself the honour to call upon my bene- 
 factor early.' To E.ose you will say : ' Be assured. Miss 
 Jocelyn ' — Miss Jocelyn is better just then — ' I shall not fail 
 in hastening to pay my respects to your family in Hamp- 
 shire.' You will remember to do it, in the exact form I 
 speak it." 
 
 Evan laughed : " What ! call him benefactor to his face ? 
 r couldn't do it." 
 
 I
 
 ON BOARD THE JOCASTA. 35 
 
 "Ah! my child!" 
 
 "Besides, he isn't a benefactor at all. His private secre- 
 tary died, and I stepped in to fill the post, because nobody 
 else was handy." 
 
 "And tell me of her who pushed you forward, Evan ? " 
 
 " My dear sister, I'm sure I'm not ungrateful." 
 
 * ' No ; but headstrong : opinionated. Now these people 
 will endeavour — Oh ! I have seen it in a thousand little 
 things — they wish to shake us off. Now, if you will but do 
 as I indicate ! Put your faith in an older head, Evan. It is 
 your only chance of society in England. For your brother- 
 in-law — I ask you, what sort of people will you meet at the 
 Cogglesbys ? Now and then a nobleman, very much out of 
 his element. In short, you have fed uj)on a diet which will 
 make you to distinguish, and painfully to know the differ- 
 ence ! Indeed ! Yes, you are looking about for Rose. It 
 depends upon your behaviour now, whether you are to see 
 her at all in England. Do you forget ? You wished once 
 to inform her of your origin. Think of her words at the 
 breakfast this morning ! " 
 
 The Countess imagined she had produced an impression. 
 Evan said : "Yes, and I should have liked to have told her 
 this morning that I'm myself nothing more than the son 
 of a—" 
 
 " Stop ! " cried his sister, glancing about in horror. The 
 admiring lieutenant met her eye. Blandishingly she smiled 
 on him: "Most beautiful weather for a welcome to dear 
 England ? " and passed with majesty. 
 
 " Boy ! " she resumed, " are you mad ? " 
 
 " I hate being such a hypocrite, madam." 
 
 " Then you do not love her, Evan ? " 
 
 This may have been dubious logic, but it resulted from 
 a clear sequence of ideas in the lady's head. Evan did not 
 contest it. 
 
 " And assuredly yoa wiU lose her, Evan. Think of my 
 troubles ! I have to intrigue for Silva ; I look to your future ; 
 I smile. Oh heaven ! how do I not smile when things are 
 spoken that pierce my heart ! This morning at the break- 
 fast ! " 
 
 D 2
 
 36 EVAN HARRINGTOK 
 
 Evan took her hand, and patted it tenderly. 
 
 " What is your pity ? " she sighed. 
 
 " If it had not been for you, my dear sister, I should never 
 have held my tongue." 
 
 " You are not a Harrington ! You are a Dawley ! " she 
 exclaimed, indignantly. 
 
 Evan received the accusation of possessing more of his 
 mother's spirit than his father's in silence. 
 
 " You would not have held your tongue," she said, with 
 fervid severity: "and you would have betrayed yourself! 
 and you would have said you were that ! and you in that 
 costume ! Why, goodness gracious ! could you bear to appear 
 so ridiculous ? " 
 
 The poor young man involuntarily surveyed his person. 
 The pains of an impostor seized him. The deplorable image 
 of the Don making confession became present to his mind. 
 It was a clever stroke of this female intriguer. She saw him 
 redden grievously, and blink his eyes ; and not wishing to 
 probe him so that he would feel intolerable disgust at his 
 imprisonment in the Don, she continued : 
 
 "But you have the sense to see your duties, Evan. You 
 have an excellent sense, in the main, No one would dream 
 — to see you. You did not, I must say, you did not make 
 enough of your gallantry. A Portuguese who had saved a 
 man's life, Evan, would he have been so boorish ? You 
 behaved as if it was a matter of course that you should go 
 overboard after anybody, in your clothes, on a dark night. 
 So, then, the Jocelyns took it. I barely heard one compli- 
 ment to you. And Rose — what an effect it should have had 
 on her ! But, owing to your manner, I do believe the girl 
 thinks it nothing but your ordinary business to go overboard 
 after anybody, in your clothes, on a dark night. 'Pon my 
 honour, I believe she expects to see you always dripping ! " 
 The Countess uttered a burst of hysterical humour. " So you 
 miss your credit. That inebriated sailor should really have 
 been gold to you. Be not so young and thoughtless." 
 
 The Countess then proceeded to tell him how foolishly he 
 had let slip his great opportunity. A Portuguese would 
 have fixed the young lady long before. By tender moonlight,
 
 ON BOARD THE JOCASTA. 37 
 
 in captivating language, beneath the umbrageous orange- 
 groves, a Portuguese would have accurately calculated the 
 effect of the perfume of the blossom on her sensitive nostrils, 
 and known the exact moment when to kneel, and declare his 
 passion sonorously. 
 
 " Yes," said Evan, " one of them did. She told me." 
 
 " She told you ? And you — what did you do ? " 
 
 " Laughed at him with her, to be sure." 
 
 " Laughed at him ! She told you, and you helped her to 
 laugh at love ! Have you no perceptions ? Why did she 
 tell you?" 
 
 " Because she thought him such a fool, I suppose." 
 
 "You never will know a woman," said the Countess, with 
 contempt. 
 
 Much of his worldly sister at a time was more than Evan 
 could bear. Accustomed to the symptoms of restiveness, she 
 finished her discourse, enjoyed a quiet parade up and down 
 under the gaze of the lieutenant, and could find leisure to 
 note whether she at all struck the inferior seamen, even while 
 her mind was absorbed by the multiform troubles and 
 anxieties for which she took such innocent indemnification. 
 
 The appearance of the Hon. Melville Jocelyn on deck, and 
 without his wife, recalled her to business. It is a peculiarity 
 of female diplomatists that they fear none save their own 
 sex. Men they regard as their natural prey : in women they 
 see rival hunters using their own weapons. The Countess 
 smiled a slowly-kindling smile up to him, set her brother 
 adrift, and delicately linked herself to Evan's benefactor. 
 
 "I have been thinking," she said, "knowing your kind 
 and most considerate attentions, that we may compromise you 
 in England." 
 
 He at once assured her he hoped not, he thought not at 
 all. 
 
 " The idea is due to my brother," she went on; "for I — 
 women know so little ! — and most guiltlessly should we have 
 done so. My brother perhaps does not think of us foremost ; 
 but his argument I can distinguish. I can see that, were you 
 openly to plead Silva's cause, you might bring yourself into 
 odium, Mr. Jocelyn ; and heaven knows I would nut that !
 
 88 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 May I tlien ask, that in England we may be simply upon the 
 same footing of private friendship ? " 
 
 The diplomatist looked into her uplifted visage, that had 
 all the sugary sparkles of a crystallized preserved fruit of the 
 Portugal clime, and observed, confidentially, that, with every 
 willingness in the world to serve her, he did think it would 
 possibly be better, for a time, to be upon that footing, apart 
 from political considerations. 
 
 " I was very sure my brother would apprehend your 
 views," said the Countess. "He, poor boy! his career is 
 closed. He must sink into a different sphere. He will 
 greatly miss the intercourse with you and your sweet 
 family." 
 
 Further relieved, the diplomatist delivered a high opinion 
 of the young gentleman, his abilities, and his conduct, and 
 trusted he should see him frequently. 
 
 By an apparent sacrifice, the lady thus obtained what she 
 wanted. 
 
 Near the hour speculated on by the diplomatist, the papers 
 came onboard, and he, unaware how he had been manoeuvred 
 for lack of a wife at his elbow, was quickly engaged in 
 appeasing the great British hunger for news ; second only to 
 that for beef, it seems, and equally acceptable salted when it 
 cannot be had fresh. 
 
 Leaving the devotee of statecraft with his legs crossed, and 
 his face wearing the cognizant air of one whose head is above 
 the waters of events, to enjoy the mighty meal of fresh and 
 salted at discretion, the Countess dived below. 
 
 Meantime the Jocasta, as smoothly as before she was igno- 
 rant of how the world wagged, slipped up the river with the 
 tide; and the sun hung red behind the forest of masts, 
 burnishing a broad length of the seipentine haven of the 
 nations of the earth. A young Englishman returning home 
 can hardly look on this scene without some pride of kinship. 
 Evan stood at the fore part of the vessel. Rose, in quiet 
 English attire, had escaped from her aunt to join him, singing 
 in his ears, to spur his senses : " Isn't it beautiful ? Isn't it 
 beautiful ? Dear old England ! " 
 
 " What do you find so beautiful ? " he asked.
 
 ON BOARD THE JOCASTA. 39 
 
 " Oh, you dull fellow ! Why the ships, and the houses, 
 and the smoke, to be sure." 
 
 " The ships ? Why, I thought you despised trade, made- 
 moiselle? " 
 
 "And so I do. That is, not trade, but tradesmen. Of 
 course, I mean shopkeepers." 
 
 "It's they who send the ships to and fro, and make the 
 picture that pleases you, nevertheless." 
 
 " Do they ? " said she, indiflferently, and then with a sort 
 of fervour, " Why do you always grow so cold to me when- 
 ever we get on this subject ? " 
 
 "I cold?" Evan responded. The incessant fears of his 
 diplomatic sister had succeeded in making him painfully 
 jealous of this subject. He turned it off. "Why, our feel- 
 ings are just the same. Do you know what I was thinking 
 when you came up ? I was thinking that I hoped I might 
 never disgrace the name of an Englishman." 
 
 " Now, that's noble ! " cried the girl. " And I'm sure you 
 never wiU. Of an English gentleman, Evan. I like that 
 better." 
 
 " Would you rather be called a true English lady than a 
 true English woman. Rose ? " 
 
 "Don't think I would, my dear," she answered, pertly ; 
 " but * gentleman ' always means more than * man' to me." 
 
 "And what's a gentleman, mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " Can't tell you, Don Doloroso. Something you are, sir," 
 she added, surveying him. 
 
 Evan sucked the bitter and the sweet of her explanation. 
 His sister in her anxiety to put him on his guard, had not 
 beguiled him to forget his real state. 
 
 His sister, the diplomatist and his lady, the refugee Count, 
 with ladies' maids, servants, and luggage, were now on the 
 main-deck, and Master Alec, who was as good as a newspaper 
 correspondent for private conversations, put an end to the 
 colloquy of the young people. They were all assembled in a 
 circle when the vessel came to her moorings. The diplomatist 
 glutted with news, and thirsting for confirmations ; the Count 
 dumb, courteous, and quick-eyed ; the honourable lady com- 
 placent in the consciousness of boxes well packed ; the
 
 40 EVAN HAERINGTON. 
 
 Countess breathing mellifluous long-drawn adieux that should 
 provoke invitations. Evan and Rose regarded each other. 
 
 The boat to convey them on shore was being lowered, and 
 they were preparing to move forward. Just then the vessel 
 was boarded by a stranger. 
 
 " Is that one of the creatures of your Customs ? I did 
 imagine we w^ere safe from them," exclaimed the Countess. 
 
 The diplomatist laughingly requested her to save herself 
 anxiety on that score, while under his wing. But she had 
 drawn attention to the intruder, who was seen addressing one 
 of the midshipmen. He was a man in a long brown coat and 
 loose white neckcloth, spectacles on nose, which he wore con- 
 siderably below the bridge and peered over, as if their main 
 use were to sight his eye ; a beaver hat, with broadish brim, 
 on his head. A man of no station, it was evident to the 
 ladies at once, and they would have taken no further notice 
 of him had he not been seen stepping toward them in the 
 rear of the young midshipman. 
 
 The latter came to Evan, and said : "A fellow of the name 
 of Goren wants you. Says there's something the matter at 
 home." 
 
 Evan advanced, and bowed stiffly. 
 
 Mr. Goren held out his hand. " You don't remember me, 
 young man ? I cut out your first suit for you when you 
 were breeched, though ! Yes — ah ! Your poor father 
 wouldn't put his hand to it. Goren ! " 
 
 Embarrassed, and not quite alive to the chapter of facts 
 this name should have opened to him, Evan bowed again. 
 
 " Goren I " continued the possessor of the name. He had 
 a cracked voice that, when he spoke a word of two syllables, 
 commenced with a lugubrious crow, and ended in what one 
 might have taken for a curious question. 
 
 " It is a bad business brings me, young man. I'm not the 
 best messenger for such tidings. It's a black suit, young 
 man ! It's your father ! " 
 
 The diplomatist and his lady gradually edged back : but 
 Rose remained beside the Countess, who breathed quick, and 
 seemed to have lost her self-command. 
 
 Thinking he was apprehended, Mr. Goren said: "I'm
 
 ON BOARD THE JOCASTA. 41 
 
 going down to-night to take care of the shop. He's to be 
 buried in his old uniform. You had better come with me by 
 the night-coach, if you would see the last of him, young man." 
 
 Breaking an odd pause that had fallen, the Countess cried 
 aloud, suddenly: 
 
 " In his uniform ! " 
 
 Mr. Goren felt his arm seized and his legs hurrying him 
 some paces into isolation. "Thanks! thanks!" was mur- 
 mured in his ear. "Not a word more. Evan cannot bear 
 it. Oh ! you are good to have come, and we are grateful. 
 My father ! my father ! " 
 
 She had to tighten her hand and wrist against her bosom 
 to keep herself up. She had to reckon in a glance how much 
 Rose had heard, or divined. She had to mark whether the 
 Count had understood a syllable. She had to whisper to 
 Evan to hasten away with the horrible man. She had to 
 enliven his stunned senses, and calm her own. And with 
 mournful images of her father in her brain, the female Spartan 
 had to turn to Rose, and speculate on the girl's reflective 
 brows, while she said, as over a distant relative, sadly, but 
 without distraction : " A death in the family ! " and preserved 
 herself from weeping her heart out, that none might guess 
 the thing who did not positively know it. 
 
 Evan touched the hand of Hose without meeting her eyes. 
 He was soon cast off in Mr. Goren's boat. Then the Countess 
 murmured final adieux ; twilight under her lids, but yet a 
 smile, stately, affectionate, almost genial. Eose, her sweet 
 Hose, she must kiss. She could have slapped Rose for 
 appearing so reserved and cold. She hugged Rose, as to hug 
 oblivion of the last few minutes into her. The girl leant her 
 cheek, and bore the embrace, looking on her with a kind of 
 wonder. 
 
 Only when alone with the Count, in the brewer's carriage 
 awaiting her on shore, did the lady give a natural course to 
 her grief; well knowing that her Silva would attribute it to 
 the darkness of their common exile. She wept : but in the 
 excess of her misery, two words of strangely opposite signifi- 
 cation, pronounced by Mr. Goren ; two words that were at 
 once poison and antidote, sang in her brain j two words that
 
 42 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 painted her dead father from head to foot, his nature and his 
 fortune : these were the Shop, and the Uniform. 
 
 Oh ! what would she not have given to have seen and 
 bestowed on her beloved father one last kiss ! Oh ! how she 
 hoped that her inspired echo of Uniform, on board the 
 Jocasta, had drowned the memory, eclipsed the meaning, of 
 that fatal utterance of Shop ! 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE FAMILY AND THE FUNEEAt. 
 
 It was the evening of the second day since the arrival of 
 the black letter in London from Lymport, and the wife of 
 the brewer and the wife of the Major sat dropping tears into 
 one another's laps, in expectation of their sister the Countess. 
 Mr. Andrew Cogglesby had not yet returned from his office. 
 The gallant Major had gone forth to dine with General Sir 
 George Frebooter, the head of the Marines of his time. It 
 would have been difficult for the Major, he informed his wife, 
 to send in an excuse to the General for non-attendance, 
 without entering into particulars; and that he should tell the 
 General he could not dine with him, because of the sudden 
 decease of a tailor, was, as he let his wife understand, and 
 requested her to perceive, quite out of the question. So he 
 dressed himself carefully, and though peremptory with his 
 wife concerning his linen, and requiring natural services from 
 her in the button department, and a casual expression of 
 contentment as to his ultimate make up, he left her that 
 day without any final injunctions to occupy her mind, and 
 she was at liberty to weep if she pleased, a privilege she did 
 not enjoy undisturbed when he was present; for the warrior 
 hated that weakness, and did not care to hide his contempt 
 for it 
 
 Of the three sisters, the wife of the Major was, oddly
 
 THE FAMILY AND THE FUNERAL. 4a 
 
 enough, the one who was least inveterately solicitous of con- 
 cealing the fact of her parentage. Reticence, of course, she 
 had to study with the rest; the Major was a walking book 
 of reticence and the observances ; he professed, also, in com- 
 pany with herself alone, to have had much trouble in drilling 
 her to mark and properly preserve them. She had no desire 
 to speak of her birthplace. But, for some reason or other, 
 she did not share her hero's rather petulant anxiety to keep 
 the curtain nailed down on that part of her life which pre- 
 ceded her entry into the ranks of the Eoyal Marines. Some 
 might have thought that those fair large blue eyes of hers 
 wandered now and then in pleasant unambitious walks behind 
 the curtain, and toyed with little flowers of palest memory. 
 Utterly tasteless, totally wanting in discernment, not to say 
 gratitude, the Major could not presume her to be ; and yet 
 his wits perceived that her answers and the conduct she 
 shaped in accordance with his repeated protests and long- 
 reaching apprehensions of what he called danger, betrayed 
 acquiescent obedience more than the connubial sympathy due 
 to him. Danger on the field the Major knew not of; he did 
 not scruple to name the word in relation to his wife. For, 
 as he told her, should he, some day, as in the chapter of 
 accidents might occur, sally into the street a Knight Com- 
 panion of the Bath and become known to men as Sir Maxwell 
 Strike, it would be decidedly disagreeable for him to be 
 blown upon by a wind from Lymport. Moreover she was 
 the mother of a son. The Major pointed out to her the duty 
 she owed her offspring. Certainly the protecting aegis of his 
 rank and title would be over the lad, but she might depend 
 upon it any indiscretion of hers would damage him in his 
 future career, the Major assured her. Young Maxwell must 
 be considered. 
 
 For all this, the mother and wife, when the black letter 
 found them in the morning at breakfast, had burst into a fit 
 of grief, and faltered that she wept for a father. Mrs. 
 Andrew, to whom the letter was addressed, had simply held 
 the letter to her in a trembling hand. The Major compared 
 their behaviour, with marked encomiums of Mrs. Andrew. 
 Now this lady and her husband were in obverse relative
 
 U EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 positions. The brewer had no will but his Harriet's. His 
 esteem for her combined the constitutional feelings of an 
 insignificantly-built little man for a majestic woman, and 
 those of a worthy soul for the wife of his bosom. Possessing, 
 or possessed by her, the good brewer was perfectly happy. 
 She, it might be thought, under these circumstances, would 
 not have minded much his hearing what he might hear. It 
 happened, however, that she was as jealous of the winds of 
 Lymport as the Major himself; as vigilant in debarring them 
 from access to the brewery as now the Countess could have 
 been. "We are not dissecting human nature : suffice it, there- 
 fore, from a mere glance at the surface, to say that, just as 
 moneyed men are careful of their coin, women who have all 
 the advantages in a conjunction, are miserly in keeping them, 
 and shudder to think that one thing remains hidden, which 
 the world they move in might put down pityingly in favour of 
 their spouse, even though to the little man 'twere naught. 
 She assumed that a revelation would diminish her moral 
 stature; and certainly it would not increase that of her 
 husband. So no good could come of it. Besides, Andrew 
 knew, his whole conduct was a tacit admission, that she had 
 condescended in giving him her hand. The features of their 
 union might not be changed altogether by a revelation, but 
 it would be a shock to her. 
 
 Consequently, Harriet tenderly rebuked Caroline, for her 
 outcry at the breakfast-table ; and Caroline, the elder sister, 
 who had not since marriage grown in so free an air, excused 
 herself humbly, and the two were weeping w^hen the Countess 
 joined them and related what she had just undergone. 
 
 Hearing of Caroline's misdemeanor, however, Louisa's eyes 
 rolled aloft in a paroxysm of tribulation. It was nothing to 
 Caroline; it was comparatively nothing to Harriet; but the 
 Count knew not Louisa had a father: believed that her 
 parents had long ago been wiped out. And the Count was by 
 nature inquisitive : and if he once cherished a suspicion he 
 was restless ; he was pointed in his inquiries : he was perti- 
 nacious in following out a clue : there never would be peace 
 with him ! And then Louisa cried aloud for her ftxther, her 
 beloved father ! Harriet wept silently. Caroline alone ex-
 
 THE FAMILY AND THE FUNERAL. 45 
 
 pressed regret that she had not set her eyes on him from the 
 day she became a wife. 
 
 " How could we, dear? " the Countess pathetically asked, 
 under drowning lids. 
 
 " Papa did not wish it," sobbed Mrs. Andrew. 
 
 "I never shall forgive myself ! " said the wife of the Major, 
 drying her cheeks. Perhaps it was not herself whom she felt 
 she never could forgive. 
 
 Ah ! the man their father was ! Incomparable Melchisedec ! 
 he might well be called. So generous ! so lordly ! "When 
 the rain of tears would subside for a moment, one would 
 relate an anecdote, or childish reminiscence of him, and pro- 
 voke a more violent outburst. 
 
 " Never, among the nobles of any land, never have I seen 
 one like him ! " exclaimed the Countess, and immediately 
 requested Harriet to tell her how it would be possible to stop 
 Andrew's tongue in Silva's presence. 
 
 "At present, you know, my dear, they may talk as much 
 as they like — they can't understand one another one bit." 
 
 Mrs. Cogglesby comforted her by the assurance that Andrew 
 had received an intimation of her wish for silence everywhere 
 and toward everybody ; and that he might be reckoned upon 
 to respect it, without demanding a reason for the restriction. 
 In other days Caroline and Louisa had a little looked down 
 on HaiTiet's alliance with a dumpy man — a brewer — and had 
 always sweet Christian compassion for him if his name were 
 mentioned. They seemed now, bj' their silence, to have a 
 happier estimate of Andrew's qualities. 
 
 While the three sisters sat mingling their sorrows and 
 alarms, their young brother was making his way to the 
 house. As he knocked at the door he heard his name pro- 
 nounced behind him, and had no difficulty in recognising the 
 worthy brewer. 
 
 " What, Van, my boy ! how are you ? Quite a foreigner ! 
 By George, what a hat ! " 
 
 Mr. Andrew bounced back two or three steps to regard 
 the dusky sombrero. 
 
 " How do you do, sir? " said Evan. 
 
 " Sir to you ! " Mr. Andrew briskly replied. " Don't they
 
 46 EVAN HAEEINGTON. 
 
 teach you to give your fist in Portugal, eh ? I'll ' sir ' you. 
 "Wait till I'm Sir Andrew, and then ' sir ' away. 'Gad! the 
 women'U be going it then. Sir Malt and Hops, and no 
 mistake ! I say, Yan, how- did you get on with the boys in 
 that hat? Aha! it's a plucky thing to wear that hat in 
 London ! And here's a cloak ! You do speak English still, 
 Van, eh ? Quite jolly, eh, my boy ? " 
 
 Mr. Andrew rubbed his hands to express that state in him- 
 self. Suddenly he stopped, blinked queerly at Evan, grew 
 pensive, and said, " Bless my soul ! I forgot." 
 
 The door opened, Mr. Andrew took Evan's arm, murmured 
 a "hush!" and trod gently along the passage to his 
 library. 
 
 " We're safe here," he said. " There — there's something 
 the matter up-stairs. The women are upset about something. 
 Harriet — " Mr. Andrew hesitated, and branched off: "You've 
 heard we've got a new baby ? " 
 
 Evan congratulated him ; but another inquiry was in Mr. 
 Andrew's aspect, and Evan's calm, sad manner answered it. 
 
 "Yes," — Mr. Andrew shook his head dolefully — "a 
 splendid little chap ! a rare little chap ! a — we can't help 
 these things, Yan ! They will happen. Sit down, my boy." 
 
 Mr. Andrew again interrogated Evan with his eyes. 
 
 " My father is dead," said Evan. 
 
 " Yes ! " Mr. Andrew nodded, and glanced quickly at 
 the ceUing, as if to make sure that none listened overhead. 
 " My parliamentary duties will soon be over for the season," 
 he added, aloud; pursuing, in an under breath: "Going 
 down to-night, Yan ? " 
 
 " He is to be buried to-morrow," said Evan. 
 
 " Then, of course, you go. Yes : quite right. Love your 
 father and mother ! always love your father and mother ! Old 
 Tom and I never knew ours. Tom's quite well — same as 
 ever. I'll," he rang the bell, " have my chop in here with 
 you. You must try and eat a bit, Yan. Here we are, and 
 there we go. Old Tom's wandering for one of his weeks. 
 You'll see him some day, Yan. He ain't like me. No dinner 
 to-day, I suppose, Charles?" 
 
 This was addressed to the footman. He announced;
 
 THE FAMILY AND THE FUNERAL. 47 
 
 "Dinner to-day at half-past six, as usual, sir," bowed, and 
 retired. 
 
 Mr. Andrew pored on the floor, and rubbed his hair back 
 on his head. " An odd world ! " was his remark. 
 
 Evan lifted up his face to sigh : " I'm almost sick of it ! " 
 
 " Damn appearances ! " cried Mr. Andrew, jumping on 
 his legs. 
 
 The action cooled him. 
 
 "I'm sorry I swore," he said. "Bad habit! The Major's 
 here — you know that ? " and he assumed the Major's voice. 
 And strutted in imitation of the stalwart marine. "Major — 
 a — Strike! of the Eoyal Marines! returned from China! 
 covered with glory I — a hero, Yan ! We can't expect him to 
 be much of a mourner. And we shan't have him to dine 
 with us to-day — that's something." He sunk his voice : 
 "I hope the widow'll bear it." 
 
 " I hope to God my mother is well ! " Evan groaned. 
 
 " That'll do," said Mr. Andrew. " Don't say any more." 
 
 As he spoke, he clapped Evan kindly on the back. 
 
 A message was brought from the ladies, requiring Evan to 
 wait on them. He returned after some minutes. 
 
 "How do you think Harriet's looking?" asked Mr. 
 Andrew. And, not waiting for an answer, whispered, " Are 
 they going down to the funeral, my boy ? " 
 
 Evan's brow was dark, as he replied : " They are not 
 decided." 
 
 " Won't Harriet go ? " 
 
 " She is not going — she thinks not." 
 
 " And the Countes^j— Louisa's up-stairs, eh ? — will she 
 go?" 
 
 " She cannot leave the Count — she thinks not." 
 
 " Won't Caroline go? Caroline can go. She — he — I mean 
 — Caroline can go ? " 
 
 " The Major objects. She wishes to." 
 
 Mr. Andrew struck out his arm, and uttered, " the Major I " 
 — a compromise for a loud anathema. But the compromise 
 was vain, for he sinned again in an explosion against appear- 
 ances. 
 * " I'm a brewer, Van. Do you think I'm ashamed of it ?
 
 48 EVAN HARRINGTOK 
 
 Not while I brew good beer, my boy ! — not while I brew 
 good beer ! They don't think worse of me in the House for 
 it. It isn't ungentlemanly to brew good beer, Yan. But 
 what's the use of talking ? " 
 
 Mr. Andrew sat down, and murmured, "Poor girl! poor 
 girl ! " 
 
 The allusion was to his wife; for presently he said: "I 
 can't see why Harriet can't go. What's to prevent her ? " 
 
 Evan gazed at him steadily. Death's levelling influence 
 was in Evan's mind. He was ready to say why, and fully. 
 
 Mr. Andrew arrested him with a sharp "'Never mind! 
 Harriet does as she likes. I'm accustomed to — hem ! — what 
 she does is best, after all. She doesn't interfere with my 
 business, nor I with hers. Man and wife." 
 
 Pausing a moment or so, Mr. Andrew intimated that thej' 
 had better be dressing for dinner. With his hand on the 
 door, which he kept closed, he said, in a business-like way, 
 "You know, Van, as for me, I should be very willing — only 
 too happy — to go down and pay all the respect I could." 
 He became confused, and shot his head from side to side, 
 looking anywhere but at Evan. " Happy now and to-morrow, 
 to do anything in mt/ power, if Harriet — follow the funeral — 
 one of the family — anything / could do: but — a — we'd better 
 be dressing for dinner." And out the enigmatic little man 
 went. 
 
 Evan partly divined him then. But at dinner his behaviour 
 was perplexing. He was too cheerful. He pledged the 
 Count. He would have the Portuguese for this and that, and 
 make Anglican efforts to repeat it, ^nd laugh at his failures. 
 He would not see that there was a father dead. At a table 
 of actors, Mr. Andrew overdid his part, and was the worst. 
 His wife could not help thinking him a heartless little man. 
 
 The poor show had its term. The ladies fled to the boudoir 
 sacred to grief. Evan was whispered that he was to join 
 them when he might, without seeming mysterious to the 
 Count. Before he reached them, they had talked tearfully 
 over the clothes he should wear at Lymport, agreeing that 
 his present foreign apparel, being black, would be suitable, 
 and would serve almost as disguise, to the inhabitants *at
 
 THE FAMILY AND THE FUNERAL. 49 
 
 large ; and as Evan had no English wear, and there was no 
 time to procure any for him, that was well. They arranged 
 exactly how long he should stay at Lymport, whom he should 
 visit, the manner he should adopt towards the different in- 
 habitants. By all means he was to avoid the approach of 
 the gentry. Eor hours Evan, in a trance, half stupefied, had 
 to listen to the Countess's directions how he was to comport 
 himself in Lymport. 
 
 " Show that 3'ou have descended among them, dear Van, 
 but are not of them. You have come to pay the last mortal 
 duties, which they will respect, if they are not brutes, and 
 attempt no familiarities. Allow none : gently, but firmly. 
 Imitate Silva. You remember, at Dona Risbonda's ball ? 
 When he met the Comte de Dartigues, and knew he was to 
 be in disgrace with his Court on the morrow ? Oh I the 
 exquisite shade of difference in Silva's behaviour towards the 
 Comte. So finely, delicately perceptible to the Comte, and 
 not a soul saw it but that wretched Frenchman ! He came 
 to me : " Madame," he said, ' is a question permitted? ' I 
 replied, 'As many as you please, M. le Comte, but no 
 answers promised.' He said : ' May I ask if the Courier has 
 yet come in ? ' ' Nay, M. le Comte,' I rejjlied, ' this is diplo- 
 macy. Inquire of me, or better, give me an opinion on the 
 new glace silk from Paris.' ' Madame,' said he, bowing, 
 ' I hope Paris may send me aught so good, or that I shall 
 grace half so well.' I smiled, 'You shall not be single in 
 your hopes, M. le Comte. The gift would be base that you 
 did not embellish.' He lifted his hands, French -fashion : 
 ' Madame, it is that I have received the gift.' ' Indeed ! M. 
 le Comte.' * Even now from the Count de Saldar, your 
 liusband.' I looked most innocently, ' From my husband, 
 M. le Comte ? ' ' From him, Madame. A portrait. An 
 Ambassador without his coat ! The portrait was a finished 
 performance.' I said : ' And may one beg the permission to 
 inspect it? ' * Mais,' said he, laughing : ' were it you alone, 
 it would be a privilege to me.' I had to check him. ' Believe 
 me, M. le Comte, that when I look upon it, my praise of the 
 artist will be extinguished by my pity for the subject.' He 
 should have stopped there ; but you cannot have the last word
 
 50 EVAN HARRINGTOX. 
 
 with a Frenchman — not even a woman. Fortunately the 
 Queen just then made her entry into the saloon, and his 
 7not on the charity of our sex was lost. We bowed mutually, 
 and were separated." (The Countess employed her hand- 
 kerchief.) " Yes, dear Van ! that is how you should behave. 
 Impl}' things. With dearest Mama, of course, you are the 
 dutiful son. Alas ! you must stand for son and daughters. 
 Mama has so much sense ! She will understand how sadly 
 we are placed. But in a week I will come to her for a 
 day, and bring you back." 
 
 So much his sister Louisa. His sister Harriet offered him 
 her house for a home in London, thence to project his new 
 career. His sister Caroline sought a word with him in 
 private, but only to weep bitterly in his arms, and utter a 
 faint moan of regret at marriages in general. He loved this 
 beautiful creature the best of his three sisters (partly, it 
 may be, because he despised her superior ofl3.cer), and tried 
 with a few smothered words to induce her to accompany 
 him : but she only shook her fair locks and moaned afresh. 
 Mr. Andrew, in the farewell squeeze of the hand at the 
 streec-door, asked him if he wanted anything. Evan knew 
 his broth er-iu -law meant money. He negatived the require- 
 ment of anything whatever, with an air of careless decision, 
 though he was aware that his purse barely contained more 
 chan would take him the distance, but the instincts of this 
 amateur gentleman were very fine and sensitive on questions 
 of money. His family had never known him beg for a 
 shilling, or admit his necessity for a penny : nor could he 
 be made te accept money unless it was thrust into his 
 pocket. Somehow, his sisters had forgotten this pecu- 
 liarity of his. Harriet only remembered it when too late. 
 
 "But I dare say Andrew has supplied him," she said. 
 
 Andrew being interrogated, informed her what had passed 
 between them. 
 
 "And you think a Harrington would confess he wanted 
 money ! " was her scornful exclamation. " Evan would 
 walk — he would die rather. It was treating him like a 
 mendicant." 
 
 Andrew had to shrink in his brewer's skin.
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD. 51 
 
 By some fatality all who were doomed to sit and listen to 
 the Countess de Saldar, were sure to be behindhand in an 
 appointment. 
 
 When the young man arrived at the coach-office, he was 
 politely informed that the vehicle, in which a seat had been 
 secured for him, was in close alliance with time and tide, and 
 being under the same rigid laws, could not possibly have 
 waited for him, albeit it had stretched a point to the extent 
 of a pair of minutes, at the urgent solicitation of a passenger- 
 
 " A gentleman who speaks so, sir," said a volunteer mimic 
 of the office, crowing and questioning from his throat in 
 Goren's manner. " Tok ! yok ! That was how he spoke, 
 sir." 
 
 Evan reddened, for it brought the scene on board the 
 Jocasta vividly to his mind. The heavier business obliterated 
 it. He took counsel with the clerks of the office, and even- 
 tually the volunteer mimic conducted him to certain livery 
 stables, where Evan, like one accustomed to command, 
 ordered a chariot to pursue the coach, received a touch of the 
 hat for a lordly fee, and was soon rolling out of London. 
 
 CHAPTEE YI 
 
 MT GEIfTLEMAN OX THE EOAD. 
 
 The postillion had every reason to believe that he carried a 
 real gentleman behind him ; in other words, a purse long and 
 liberal. He judged by all the points he knew of : a firm 
 voice, a brief commanding style, an apparent indifference to 
 expense, and the inexplicable minor characteristics, such as 
 polished boots, and a striking wristband, and so forth, which 
 show a creature accustomed to step over the heads of men. 
 He had, therefore, no particular anxiety to part company, 
 and jogged easily on the white highway, beneath a moon that 
 walked high and small over marble clouds. 
 
 Evan reclined in the chariot, revolving his sensations. In 
 another mood he would have called them thoughts, perhaps, 
 
 E 2
 
 62 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 and marvelled at their immensity. The theme was Love and 
 Death. One might have supposed, from his occasional mut- 
 terings at the pace regulated by the postillion, that he was 
 burning with anxiety to catch the flying coach. He had 
 forgotten it : forgotten that he was giving chase to any- 
 thing. A pair of wondering feminine eyes pursued him, and 
 made him fret for the miles to throw a thicker veil between 
 him and them. The serious level brows of Eose haunted 
 the poor youth ; and reflecting whither he was tending, and 
 to what sight, he had shadowy touches of the holiness there 
 is in death; from which came a conflict between the imaged 
 phantoms of his father and of Eose, and he sided against 
 his love with some bitterness. His sisters, weeping for their 
 father and holding aloof from his ashes, Evan swept from his 
 mind. He called up the man his father was : the kindliness, 
 the readiness, the gallant gaiety of the great Mel. Youths 
 are fascinated by the barbarian virtues ; and to Evan, under 
 present influences, his father was a pattern of manhood. He 
 asked himself : "Was it infamous to earn one's bread ? and 
 answered it very strongly in his father's favour. The great 
 Mel's creditors were not by to show him another feature of 
 the case. 
 
 Hitherto, in passive obedience to the indoctrination of the 
 Coimtess, Evan had looked on tailors as the proscribed race 
 of modern society. He had pitied his father as a man 
 superior to his fate ; but despite the fitfully honest prompt- 
 ings with Eose (tempting to him because of the wondrous 
 chivalry they argued, and at bottom false probably as the 
 hypocrisy they affected to combat), he had been by no means 
 sorry that the world saw not the spot on himself. Other 
 sensations beset him now. Since such a man was banned by 
 the world, which was to be despised ? 
 
 The clear result of Evan's solitary musing was to cast a 
 sort of halo over Tailordom. Death stood over the pale dead 
 man, his father, and dared the world to sneer at him. By 
 a singular caprice of fancy, Evan had no sooner grasped this 
 image, than it was suggested that he might as well inspect 
 his purse, and see how much money he was master of. 
 
 Are you impatient with this young man ? He has little
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD. 53 
 
 character for the moment. Most youths are like Pope's 
 women; they have no character at all. And indeed a cha- 
 racter that does not wait for circumstances to shape it, is of 
 small worth in the race that must be run. To be set too 
 early, is to take the work out of the hands of the Sculptor 
 who fashions men. Happily a youth is always at school, and 
 if he was shut up and without mark two or three hours ago, 
 he will have something to show you now : as I have seen 
 blooming sea-flowers and other graduated organisms, when 
 left undisturbed to their own action. Where the Fates have 
 designed that he shall present his figure in a story, this is 
 sure to happen. 
 
 To the postillion Evan was indebted for one of his first 
 lessons. 
 
 About an hour after midnight pastoral stillness and the 
 moon begat in the postillion desire for a pipe. Daylight 
 prohibits the dream of it to mounted postillions. At night 
 the question is more human, and allows appeal. The moon 
 smiles assentingly, and smokers know that she really lends 
 herself to the enjojonent of tobacco. The postillion could 
 remember gentlemen who did not object : who had even 
 given him cigars. Turning round to see if haply the present 
 inmate of the chariot might be smoking, he observed a head 
 extended from the window. 
 
 " How far are we ? " was inquired. 
 
 The postUlion numbered the milestones passed. 
 
 "Do you see anything of the coach ? " 
 
 " Can't say as I do, sir." 
 
 He was commanded to stop. Evan jumped out. 
 
 " I don't think I'll take you any farther," he said. 
 
 The postillion laughed to scorn the notion of his caring how 
 far he went. With a pipe in his mouth, he insinuatingly 
 remarked, he could jog on all night, and throw sleep to the 
 dogs. Fresh horses at Hillford ; fresh at Fallowfield : and 
 the gentleman himself would reach Lymport fresh in the 
 morning. 
 
 "No, no; I won't take you any farther," Evan re- 
 peated. 
 
 "But what do it matter, sir ? " urged the postillion.
 
 54 EYAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 " I'd rather go on as I am. I — a — made no arrangeraen 
 to take you the whole way." 
 
 " Oh ! " cried the postillion, " don't you go troublin' your- 
 self about that, sir. Master knows it's touch-and-go about 
 catchin' the coach. I'm all right." 
 
 So infatuated was the fellow in the belief that he was 
 dealing with a perfect gentleman — an easy pocket ! 
 
 Now you would not suppose that one who presumes he has 
 sufficient, would find a difficulty in asking how much he has 
 to pay. With an effort, indifferently masked, Evan blurted : 
 
 "By the way, tell me — how much — what is the charge 
 for the distance we've come? " 
 
 There are gentlemen-screws: there are conscientious gentle- 
 men. They calculate, and remonstrating or not, they pay. 
 The postillion would rather have had to do with the gentle- 
 man royal, who is above base computation; but he knew the 
 humanity in the class he served, and with his conception of 
 Evan, only partially dimmed, he remarked : 
 
 " Oh-h-h ! that won't hurt you, sir. Jump along in, — 
 settle that by-and-by." 
 
 But when my gentleman stood fast, and renewed the de- 
 mand to know the exact charge for the distance already 
 traversed, the postillion dismounted, glanced him over, and 
 speculated with his fingers tipping up his hat. Meantime 
 Evan drew out his purse, a long one, certainly, but limp. 
 Out of this drowned-looking wretch the last spark of life was 
 taken by the sum the postillion ventured to name ; and if 
 paying your utmost farthing without examination of the 
 charge, and cheerfully stepping out to walk fifty miles, 
 penniless, constituted a postillion's gentleman, Evan would 
 have passed the test. The sight of poverty, however, pro- 
 vokes familiar feelings in poor men, if you have not had 
 occasion to show them you possess particular qualities. The 
 postillion's eye was more on the purse than on the sum it 
 surrendered. 
 
 " There," said Evan, " I shall walk. Good night." And 
 he flung Kis cloak to step forward. 
 
 " Stop a bit, sir ! " arrested him. 
 
 The postillion rallied up sideways, with an assumption of
 
 I 
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD. 55 
 
 genial respect. " I didn't calc'late myself in that there 
 amount." 
 
 Were these words, think you, of a character to strike a 
 young man hard on the breast, send the blood to his head, 
 and set up in his heart a derisive chorus ? My gentleman 
 could paj^ his money, and keep his footing gallantly; but to 
 be asked for a penny beyond what he possessed ; to be seen 
 beggared, and to be claimed a debtor — alack ! Pride was the 
 one developed faculty of Evan's nature. The Fates who 
 mould us, always work from the main- spring. I will not 
 say that the postillion stripped off the mask for him, at that 
 instant completely ; but he gave him the first true glimpse 
 of his condition. From the vague sense of being an impostor, 
 Evan awoke to the clear fact that he was likewise a fool. 
 
 It was impossible for him to deny the man's claim, and he 
 would not have done it, if he could. Acceding tacitly, he 
 squeezed the ends of his purse in his pocket, and with a 
 "Let me see," tried his waistcoat. Not too impetuously; 
 for he was careful of betraying the horrid emptiness till 
 he was certain that the powers who wait on gentlemen had 
 utterly forsaken him. They had not. He discovered a small 
 coin, under ordinary circumstances not contemptible ; but he 
 did not stay to reflect, and was guilty of the error of offering 
 it to the postillion. 
 
 The latter peered at it in the centre of his palm ; gazed 
 queerly in the gentleman's face, and then lifting the spit of 
 silver for the disdain of his mistress, the moon, he drew a 
 long breath of regret at the original mistake he had com- 
 mitted, and said : 
 
 "That's what you're goin' to give rae for my night's 
 woi'k ? " 
 
 The powers who wait on gentlemen had only helped the 
 pretending youth to try him. A rejection of the demand 
 would have been infinitely wiser and better than this paltry 
 compromise. The postillion would have fought it : he would 
 not have despised his fare. 
 
 How much it cost the poor pretender to reply, " It's the 
 last farthing I have, my man," the ])Ostillion could not 
 know.
 
 56 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 " A scabby sixpence ? " The postillion continued his 
 question. 
 
 "You heard what I said," Evan remarked. 
 
 The postillion drew another deep breath, and holding out 
 the coin at arm's length : 
 
 " Well, sir ! " he observed, as one whom mental conflict 
 has brought to the philosophy of the case, " now, was we to 
 change places, I couldn't a' done it ! I couldn't a' done it ! " 
 he reiterated, pausing emphatically. 
 
 "Take it, sir!" he magnanimously resumed; "take it! 
 You rides when you can, and you walks when you must. 
 Lord forbid I should rob such a gentleman as you ! " 
 
 One who feels a death, is for the hour lifted above the 
 satire of postillions, A good genius prompted Evan to avoid 
 the silly squabble that might have ensued and made him 
 ridiculous. He took the money, quietly saying, " Thank 
 you." 
 
 Not to lose his vantage, the postillion, though a little stag- 
 gered by the move, rejoined : " Don't mention it." 
 
 Evan then said : "Good night, my man. I won't wish, 
 for your sake, that we changed places. You would have to 
 walk fifty miles to be in time for your father's funeral. Good 
 night." 
 
 " You are it — to look at ! " was the postillion's comment, 
 seeing my gentleman depart with great strides. He did not 
 speak offensively ; rather, it seemed, to appease his conscience 
 for the original mistake he had committed, for subsequently 
 came, " My oath on it, I don't get took in again by a squash 
 hat in a hurry ! " 
 
 Unaware of the ban he had, by a sixpenny stamp, put 
 upon an unoffending class, Evan went a-head, hearing the 
 wheels of the chariot still dragging the road in his rear. The 
 postillion was in a dissatisfied state of mind. He had asked 
 and received more than his due. But in the matter of his 
 sweet self, he had been choused, as he termed it. And my gen- 
 tleman had baflled him, he could not quite tell how ; but he 
 had been got the better of; his sarcasms had not stuck, and 
 returned to rankle in the bosom of their author. As a Jew, 
 therefore, may eye an erewhile bondsman who has paid the
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD. 57 
 
 bill, but stands out against excess of interest on legal grounds, 
 the postillion regarded Evan, of whom he was now abreast, 
 eager for a controversy. 
 
 " Fine night," said the postillion, to begin, and was 
 answered by a short assent. " Lateish for a poor man to be 
 out — don't you think sir, eh ? " 
 
 "/ ought to think so," said Evan, mastering the shrewd 
 unpleasantness he felt in the colloquy forced on him. 
 
 "Oh, you! you're a gentleman!" the postillion ejacu- 
 lated. 
 
 " You see I have no money." 
 
 " Feel it, too, sir." 
 
 " I am sorry you should be the victim." 
 
 " Victim ! " the postiUion seized on an objectionable word. 
 " I ain't no victim, unless you was up to a joke with me, 
 sir, just now. "Was that the game ? " 
 
 Evan informed him that he never played jokes with money, 
 or on men. 
 
 "'Cause it looks like it, sir, to go to offer a poor chap 
 sixpence." The postillion laughed hollow from the end of 
 his lungs. " Sixpence for a night's work ! It is a joke, if 
 you don't mean it for one. Why, do you know, sir, I could 
 go — there, I don't care where it is ! — I could go before any 
 magistrate livin', and he'd make ye pay. It's a charge, as 
 custom is, and he'd make ye pay. Or p'rhaps you're a goin' 
 on my generosity, and '11 say, he gev back that sixpence ! 
 Well ! I shouldn't a' thought a gentleman 'd make that 
 his defence before a magistrate. But there, my man ! if 
 it makes ye happy, keep it. But you take my advice, sir. 
 When you hires a chariot, see you've got the shiners. And 
 don't you go never again offerin' a sixpence to a poor man 
 for a night's work. They don't like it. It hurts their 
 feelin's. Don't you forget that, sir. Lay that up in youi 
 mind." 
 
 Now the postillion having thus relieved himself, jeeringly 
 asked permission to smoke a pipe. To which Evan said, 
 " Pray smoke, if it pleases you." And the postillion, hardly 
 mollified, added, " The baccy' s paid for," and smoked. 
 
 As will sometimes happen, the feelings of the man who
 
 58 EVAN HARRINGTON". 
 
 had spoken out and behaved doubtfully, grew gentle and 
 Christian, whereas those of the man whose bearing under 
 the trial had been irreproachable were much the reverse. The 
 postillion smoked — he was a lord on his horse ; he beheld 
 my gentleman trudging in the dust. Awhile he enjoyed the 
 contrast, dividing his attention between the footfarer and 
 moon. To have had the last word is always a great thing; 
 and to have given my gentleman a lecture, because he 
 shunned a dispute, also counts. And then there was the poor 
 young fellow trudging- to his father's funeral ! The postil- 
 lion chose to remember that now. In reality, he allowed, 
 he had not very much to complain of, and my gentleman's 
 courteous avoidance of provocation (the apparent fact that he, 
 the postillion, had humbled him and got the better of him, 
 equally, it may be), acted on his fine English spirit. I should 
 not like to leave out the tobacco in this good change that was 
 wrought in him. However, he presently astonished Evan 
 by pulling up his horses, and crying that he was on his way 
 to Hillford to bait, and saw no reason why he should not take 
 a lift that part of the road, at all events. Evan thanked him 
 briefly, but declined, and paced on with his head bent. 
 
 "It won't cost you nothing — not a sixpence ! " the pos- 
 tillion sang out, pursuing him. " Come, sir ! be a man ! I 
 ain't a hintin' at anything — jump in." 
 
 Evan again declined, and looked out for a side path to 
 escape the fellow, whose bounty was worse to him than his 
 abuse, and whose mention of the sixpence was unlucky. 
 
 " Dash it ! " cried the postillion, "you're going down to 
 a funeral — I think you said your father's, sir — you may as 
 well try and get there respectable — as far as I go. It's one 
 to me whether you're in or out; the horses won't feel it, and 
 I do wish you'd take a lift and welcome. It's because you're 
 too much of a gentleman to be beholden to a poor man, I 
 suppose ! " 
 
 Evan's young pride may have had a little of that base 
 mixture in it, and certainly he would have preferred that the 
 invitation had not been made to him ; but he was capable of 
 appreciating what the rejection of a piece of friendliness 
 involved, and as he saw that the man was sincere, he did
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD. 59 
 
 violence to himself, and said: "Very well; then I'll jump 
 in." 
 
 The postillion was off his horse in a twinkling, and trotted 
 his bandy legs to undo the door, as to a gentleman who paid. 
 This act of service Evan valued. 
 
 "Suppose I were to ask you to take the sixpence now?" 
 he said, turning round, with one foot on the step. 
 
 "Well, sir," the postillion sent his hat aside to answer. 
 "I don't want it — I'd rather not have it; but there! I'll 
 take it — dash the sixpence ! and we'll cry quits." 
 
 Evan, surprised and pleased with him, dropped the bit of 
 money in his hand, saying: "It will fill a pipe for you. 
 While you're smoking it, think of me as in your debt. You'ie 
 the only man I ever owed a penny to." 
 
 The postillion put it in a side pocket apart, and observed : 
 " A sixpence kindly meant is worth any crown-piece that's 
 grudged — that it is! In you j -imp, sir. It's a jolly 
 night!" 
 
 Thus may one, not a conscious sage, play the right tune 
 on this human nature of ours : by forbearance, put it in the 
 wrong ; and then, by not refusing the burden of an obliga- 
 tion, confer something better. The instrument is simpler 
 than we are taught to fancy. But it was doubtless owing to 
 a strong emotion in his soul, as well as to the stuff he was 
 made of, that the youth behaved as he did. We are now and 
 then above our own actions ; seldom on a level with them. 
 Evan, I dare say, was long in learning to draw any gratifica- 
 tion from the fact that he had achieved without money the 
 unparalleled conquest of a man. Perhaps he never knew 
 what immediate influence on his fortune this episode effected. 
 
 At Hillford they went their different ways. The postillion 
 wished him good speed, and Evan shook his hand. He did 
 so rather abruptly, for the postillion was fumbling at his 
 pocket, and evidently rounding about a proposal in his mind. 
 
 My gentleman has now the road to himself. Money is the 
 clothing of a gentleman : he may wear it well or ill. Some, 
 you will mark, carry great quantities of it gracefully : some, 
 with a stinted supply, present a decent appearance : very few, 
 I imagine, will bear inspection, who are absolutely stripped
 
 60 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 of it. All, save the shameless, are toiling to escape that trial. 
 My gentleman, treading the white highway across the solitary 
 heaths, that swell far and wide to the moon, is, by the pos- 
 tillion, who has seen him, pronounced no sham. Nor do I 
 think the opinion of any man worthless, who has had the 
 postillion's authority for speaking. But it is, I am told, a 
 finer test to embellish much gentleman-apparel, than to walk 
 with dignity totally unadorned. This simply tries the sound- 
 ness of our faculties : that tempts them in erratic directions. 
 It is the difference between active and passive excellence. 
 
 As there is hardly any situation, however, so interesting 
 to reflect upon as that of a man without a penny in his 
 pocket, and a gizzard full of pride, we will leave Mr. Evan 
 Harrington to what fresh adventures may befall him, walking 
 towards the funeral plumes of the firs, under the soft mid- 
 summer flush, westward, where his father lies. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 
 
 Eabe as epic song is the man who is thorough in what he 
 does. And happily so ; for in life he subjugates us, and he 
 makes us bondsmen to his ashes. It was in the order of 
 things that the great Mel should be borne to his final rest- 
 ing place by a troop of creditors. You have seen (since the 
 occasion demands a pompous simile) clouds that all day cling 
 about the sun, and, in seeking to obscrure him, are compelled 
 to blaze in his livery : at fall of night they break from him 
 illumined, hang mournfully above him, and wear his natural 
 glories long after he is gone. Thus, then, these worthy 
 fellows, faithful to him to the dust, fulfilled Mel's triumphant 
 passage amongst them, and closed his career. 
 
 To regale them when they returned, Mrs. Mel, whose 
 mind was not intent on greatness, was occupied in spreading 
 meat and wine. Mrs. Fiske assisted her, as well as she
 
 MOTHER AND SUN. 61 
 
 could, seeing that one hand was entirely engaged by her 
 handkerchief. She had already stumbled, and dropped a 
 glass, which had brought on her sharp condemnation from her 
 aunt, who bade her sit down, or go upstairs to have her cry 
 out, and then return to be serviceable. 
 
 "Oh! I can't help it!" sobbed Mrs. Fiske. "That he 
 should be carried away, and none of his children to see him 
 the last time ! I can understand Louisa — and Harriet, too, 
 perhaps ! But why could not Caroline ? And that they should 
 be too fine ladies to let their brother come and bury his ftither. 
 Oh ! it does seem " 
 
 Mrs. Piske fell into a chair, and surrendered to grief. 
 
 " Where is the cold tongue ? " said Mrs. Mel to Sally, the 
 maid, in a brief under-voice. 
 
 " Please mum, Jacko ! " 
 
 " He must be whipped. You are a careless slut." 
 
 " Please I can't think of everybody and everything, and 
 poor master " 
 
 Sally plumped on a seat, and took sanctuary under her 
 apron. Mrs. Mel glanced at the pair, continuing her labour. 
 
 " Oh, aunt, aunt ! " cried Mrs. Fiske, "-why didn't you put 
 it off for another day, to give Evan a chance ?" 
 
 " Master' d have kept another two days, he would ! " whim- 
 pered Sally. 
 
 " Oh, aunt ! to think ! " cried Mrs. Fiske. 
 
 "And his coffin not bearin' of his spurs!" whimpered 
 Sally. 
 
 Mrs. Mel interrupted them by commanding Sally to go to 
 the drawing-room, and ask a lady there, of the name of Mrs. 
 Wishaw, whether she would like to have some lunch sent up 
 to her. Mrs. Fiske was requested to put towels in Evan's 
 bedroom. 
 
 " Yes, aunt, if you're not infatuated ! " said Mrs. Fiske, as 
 she prepared to obey ; while Sally, seeing that her public 
 exhibition of sorrow and sympathy could be indulged but an 
 instant longer, unwound herself for a violent paroxysm, blui't- 
 ing between stops : 
 
 " If he'd ony 've gone to his last bed comfortable ! . . . 
 If he'd ony 've been that decent as not for to go to his last
 
 62 EVAN HAERINGTON. 
 
 bed with his clothes on ! ... If he'd ony 've had a comfort- 
 able sheet ! ... It makes a woman feel cold to think of him 
 fuU dressed there, as if he was goin' to be a soldier on the 
 Day o' Judgement!" 
 
 To let people speak was a maxim of Mrs. Mel's, and a wise 
 one for any form of society when emotions are very much on 
 the surface. She continued her arrangements quietly, and, 
 having counted the number of plates and glasses, and told off 
 the guests on her fingers, she sat down to await them. 
 
 The first who entered the room was her son. 
 
 "You have come," said Mrs. Mel, flushing slightly, but 
 otherwise outwardly calm. 
 
 " You didn't suppose I should stay away from you, 
 mother? " 
 
 Evan kissed her cheek. 
 
 " I knew you would not." 
 
 Mrs. Mel examined him with those eyes of hers that com- 
 passed objects in a single glance. She drew her finger on 
 each side of her upper lip, and half smiled, saying : 
 
 " That won't do here." 
 
 "What?" asked Evan, and proceeded immediately to 
 make inquiries about her health, which she satisfied with a 
 nod. 
 
 " You saw him lowered. Van ? " 
 
 " Yes, mother." 
 
 " Then go and wash yourself, for you are dirty, and then 
 come and take your place at the head of the table." 
 
 " Must I sit here, mother ? " 
 
 " Without a doubt you must, Van. You know your room. 
 Quick ! " 
 
 In this manner their first interview passed. 
 
 Mrs. Fiske rushed in to exclaim : 
 
 " So, you were right, aunt — he has come. I met him on 
 the stairs. Oh ! how like dear uncle Mel he looks, in the 
 militia, with that moustache. I just remember him as a 
 child ; and, oh, what a gentleman he is ! " 
 
 At the end of the sentence Mrs. Mel's face suddenly 
 darkened : she said, in a deep voice : 
 
 " Don't dare to talk that nonsense before him, Ann."
 
 I 
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 63 
 
 " Mrs. Fiske looked astonished. 
 
 " "What have I done, aunt ? " 
 
 " He shan't be ruined by a parcel of fools," said Mrs. Mel. 
 " There, go ! Women have no place here." 
 
 " How the wretches can force themselves to touch a morsel, 
 after this morning ! " Mrs. Fiske exclaimed, glancing at the 
 table. 
 
 " Men must eat,'" said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 The mourners were heard gathering outside the door. Mrs. 
 Fiske escaped into the kitchen. Mrs. Mel admitted them into 
 the pailour, bowing much above the level of many of the 
 heads that passed her. 
 
 Assembled were Messrs. Barnes, Kilne, and Grossby, whom 
 we know; Mr. Doubleday, the ironmonger; Mr. Joyce, the 
 grocer ; Mr. Perkins, commonly called Lawyer Perkins ; Mr. 
 Welbeck, the pier-master of Lymport ; Bartholomew Fiske ; 
 Mr. Coxwell, a Fallowfield maltster, brewer, and farmer; 
 creditors of various dimensions, all of them. Mr. Goren 
 coming last, behind his spectacles. 
 
 " My son will be with you directly, to preside," said Mrs. 
 Mel. " Accept my thanks for the respect you have shown my 
 husband. I wish you good morning." 
 
 " Morning, ma'am," answered several voices, and Mrs. 
 Mel retired. 
 
 The mourners then set to work to relieve their hats of the 
 appendages of crape. An undertaker's man took possession of 
 the long black cloaks. The gloves were generally pocketed. 
 
 " That's my second black pair this year," said Joyce. 
 " They'll last a time to come. I don't need to buy gloves 
 while neighbours pop off." 
 
 " Undertakers' gloves seem to me as if they're made for 
 mutton fists," remarked "Welbeck ; upon which Kilne nudged 
 Barnes, the butcher, with a sharp "Aha!" and Barnes 
 observed : 
 
 " Oh ! I never wear 'em — they does for my boys on 
 Sundays. I smoke a pipe at home." 
 
 The Fallowfield farmer held his length of crape aloft and 
 inquired : " What shall do with this ? " 
 
 " Oh, you keep it," said one or two.
 
 64 EVAN HAERINGTON. 
 
 Coxwell rubbed his chin. " Don't like to rob the widder." 
 
 " What's left goes to the undertaker ?" asked Grossby. 
 
 "To be sure," said Barnes; and Kilne added: " It's a 
 job : " Lawyer Perkins ejaculating confidently, " Perquisites 
 of office, gentlemen; perquisites of office ! " which settled the 
 dispute and appeased every conscience. 
 
 A survey of the table ensued. The mourners felt hunger, 
 or else thirst ; but had not, it appeared, amalgamated the two 
 appetites as yet. Thirst was the predominant declaration ; 
 and Grossby, after an examination of the decanters, unctuously 
 deduced the fact, which he announced, that port and sherry 
 were present. 
 
 " Try the port," said Kilne. 
 
 " Good ? " Barnes inquired. 
 
 A very intelligent "I ought to know," with a reserve of 
 regret at the extension of his intimacy with the particular 
 vintage under that roof, was winked by Kilne, 
 
 Lawyer Perkins touched the arm of a mourner about to be 
 experimental on Kilne' s port : 
 
 " I think we had better wait tUl young Mr. Harrington 
 takes the table, don't you see ? " 
 
 " Yes, — ah ! " croaked Goren. " The head of the family, 
 as the saying goes ! " 
 
 "I suppose we shan't go into business to-day?" Joyce 
 carelessly observed. 
 
 Lawyer Perkins answered : 
 
 " No. You can't expect it. Mr. Harrington has led me 
 to anticipate that he will appoint a day. Don't you see ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I see," returned Joyce. " I ain't in such a hurry. 
 What's he doing ? " 
 
 Doubleday, whose propensities were waggish, suggested 
 "shaving," but half ashamed of it, since the joke missed, fell 
 to as if he were soaping his face, and had some trouble to 
 contract his jaw. 
 
 The delay in Evan's attendance on the guests of the house 
 was caused by the fact that Mrs, Mel had lain in wait for 
 him descending, to warn him that he must treat them with no 
 supercilious civility, and to tell him partly the reason why. 
 On hearing the potential relations in which they stood
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 65 
 
 toward the estate of his father, Evan hastily and with the 
 assurance of a son of fortune, said they should be paid. 
 
 " That's what they would like to hear," said Mrs. Mel. 
 " You may just mention it when they're going to leave. Say 
 you will hx a day to meet them." 
 
 " Every farthing ! " pursued Evan, on whom the tidings 
 were beginning to operate. "What! debts? my poor 
 father ! " 
 
 "And a thumping sum, Van. You will open your eyes 
 wider." 
 
 " But it shall be paid, mother, — it shall be paid. Debts ? 
 I hate them. I'd slave night and day to pay them." 
 
 Mrs. Mel spoke in a more positive tense : " And so will I, 
 Yan. Now, go." 
 
 It mattered little to her what sort of effect on his demeanour 
 her revelation produced, so long as the resolve she sought to 
 bring him to was nailed in his mind ; and she was a woman 
 to knock and knock again, till it was firmly fixed there. 
 With a strong purpose, and no plans, there were few who 
 could resist what, in her circle, she willed ; not even a youth 
 who would gaily have marched to the scaffold rather than 
 stand behind a counter. A purpose wedded to plans may easily 
 suffer shijiwreck; but an unfettered purpose that moulds 
 circumstances as they ai'ise, masters us, and is terrible. 
 Character melts to it, like metal in the steady furnace. The 
 projector of plots is but a miserable gambler and votary of 
 chances. Of a far higher quality is the will that can subdue 
 itself to wait, and lay no petty traps for opportunity. Poets 
 may fable of such a will, that it makes the very heavens con- 
 form to it ; or, I may add, what is almost equal thereto, one 
 who would be a gentleman, to consent to be a tailor. The 
 only person who ever held in his course against Mrs. Mel, 
 was Mel, — her husband ; but, with him, she was under the 
 physical fascination of her youth, and it never left her. In 
 her heart she barely blamed him. What he did, she took 
 among other inevitable matters. 
 
 The door closed upon Evan, and waiting at the foot of the 
 stairs a minute to hear how he was received, Mrs. Mel went 
 to the kitchen and called the name of Dandy, which brought 
 
 F
 
 66 EVAN HARRINGTOK 
 
 out an ill-built, low-browed, small man, in a baggy suit of 
 black, who hopped up to her with a surly salute. Dandy 
 was a bird Mrs. Mel had herself brought down, and she had 
 for him something of a sportsman's regard for his victim. 
 Dandy was the cleaner of boots and runner of errands in the 
 household of Melchisedec, having originally entered it on a 
 dark night by the cellar. Mrs. Mel, on that occasion, -was 
 sleeping in her dressing-gown, to be ready to give the gallant 
 night-hawk, her husband, the service he might require on his 
 return to the nest. Hearing a suspicious noise below, she 
 rose, and deliberately loaded a pair of horse-pistols, weapons 
 Mel had worn in his holsters in the heroic days gone ; and 
 with these she stepped down-stairs straight to the cellar, 
 carrying a lantern at her girdle. She could not only load, 
 but present and fire. Dandy was foremost in stating that she 
 called him forth steadily, three times, before the pistol was 
 discharged. He admitted that he was frightened, and inca- 
 pable of speech, at the apparition of the tall, terrific woman. 
 After the third time of asking he had the ball lodged in his 
 leg and fell, Mrs. Mel was in the habit of bearing heavier 
 weights than Dandy. She made no ado about lugging him 
 to a chamber, "where, with her own hands (for this woman 
 had some slight knowledge of surgery, and was great in herbs 
 and drugs) she dressed his wound, and put him to bed ; crying 
 contempt (ever present in Dandy's memory) at such a poor 
 creature undertaking the work of housebreaker. Taught that 
 he really was a poor creature for the work. Dandy, his 
 nursing over, begged to be allowed to stop and wait on Mrs. 
 Mel ; and she who had, like many strong natures, a share of 
 pity for the objects she despised, did not cast him out. A 
 jerk in his gait, owing to the bit of lead Mrs. Mel had dropped 
 into him, and a little, perhaps, to her self-satisfied essay in 
 surgical science on his person, earned him the name he 
 went by. 
 
 When her neighbours remonstrated with her for housing a 
 reprobate, Mrs. Mel would say: "Dandy is well-fed and 
 Avell-physicked : there's no harm in Dandy;" by which she 
 may have meant that the food won his gratitude, and the 
 physic reduced his humours. She had observed human
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 67 
 
 nature. At any rate, Dandy was her creature ; and the great 
 Mel himself rallied her about her squii'e. 
 
 " When were you drunk last? " was Mrs. Mel's address to 
 Dandy, as he stood waiting for orders. 
 
 He replied to it in an altogether injured way : 
 
 " There, now; you've been and called me away from my 
 dinner to ask me that. "Why, when I had the last chauce, 
 to be sure." 
 
 " And you were at dinner in your new black suit ? " 
 
 ""Well," growled Dandy, "I borrowed Sally's apron. 
 Seems I can't please ye." 
 
 Mrs. Mel neither enjoined nor cared for outward forms of 
 respect, where she was sure of complete subserviency. If 
 Dandy went beyond the limits, she gave him an extra dose. 
 Up to the limits he might talk as he pleased, in accordance 
 with Mrs. Mel's maxim, that it was a necessary relief to all 
 talking creatures. 
 
 "Now, take off your apron," she said, "and wash your 
 hands, dii'ty pig, and go and wait at table in there ; " she 
 pointed to the parlour-door. " Come straight to me when 
 everybody has left." 
 
 " Well, there I am with the bottles again," returned 
 Dandy. " It's your fault this time, mind ! I'll come as 
 straight as I can." 
 
 Dandy turned away to perform her bidding, and Mrs. Mel 
 ascended to the drawing-room to sit with Mrs. Wishaw, who 
 was, as she told aU who chose to hear, an old flame of Mel's, 
 and was besides, what Mrs. Mel thought more of, the wife of 
 Mel's principal creditor, a wholesale dealer in cloth, resident 
 in London. 
 
 The conviviality of the mourners did not disturb the house. 
 Still, men who are not accustomed to see the colour of wine 
 every day, will sit and enjoy it, even upon solemn occasions, 
 and the longer they sit the more they forget the matter that 
 has brought them together. Pleading their wives and shops, 
 however, they released Evan from his miserable office late in 
 the afternoon. His mother came down to him, and saying, 
 "I see how you did the journey — you walked it," told him 
 to follow her. 
 
 v2.
 
 68 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 "Yes, mother," Evan yawned, "I walked part of the 
 way. I met a fellow in a gig about ten miles out of Fallow- 
 field, and he gave me a lift to Flatsham. I just reached 
 Lymport in time, thank Heaven ! I wouldn't have missed 
 that ! By the way, I've satisfied these men." 
 
 "Oh!" said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 " They wanted — one or two of them — what a penance it is 
 to have to sit among those people an hour ! — they wanted to 
 ask me about -the business, but I silenced them. I told 
 them to meet me here this day week." 
 
 Mrs. Mel again said " Oh ! " and, pushing into one of the 
 upper rooms, " Here's your bedroom, Van, just as you 
 left it." 
 
 "Ah, so it is," muttered Evan, eyeing a print. "The 
 Douglas and the Percy: ' he took the dead man by the hand.' 
 What an age it seems since I last saw that. There's Sir 
 Hugh Montgomery on horseback — he hasn't moved. Don't 
 you remember my father calling it the Battle of Tit-for-Tat? 
 Gallant Percy! I know he wished he had lived in those 
 days of knights and battles." 
 
 " It does not much signify whom one has to make clothes 
 for," observed Mrs. Mel. Her son happil}- did not mark her. 
 
 " I think we neither of us were made for the days of pence 
 and pounds," he .sontinued. "E"ow, mother, sit down, and 
 talk to me about him. Did he mention me ? Did he give 
 me his blessing ? I hope he did not suffer. I'd have given 
 anything to press his hand," and looking wistfully at the 
 Percy lifting the hand of Douglas dead, Evan's eyes filled 
 with big tears. 
 
 "He suffered very little," returned Mrs. Mel, " and his 
 last words were about you." 
 
 " "What were they ? " Evan burst out. 
 
 " I will tell you another time. IS'ow undress, and go to 
 bed. When I talk to you, Yan, I want a cool head to listen. 
 You do nothing but yawn yard-measures." 
 
 The mouth of the weary youth instinctively snapped short 
 the abhorred emblem. 
 
 " Here, I will help you, Yan." 
 
 In spite of his remonstrances and petitions for talk, she
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 69 
 
 took off his coat and ■waistcoat, contemptuously criticising the 
 cloth of foreign tailors and their absurd cut. 
 
 " Have you heard from Louisa? " asked Evan. 
 
 "Yes, yes — about your sisters by-and-by. Now, be good, 
 and go to bed." 
 
 She still treated him like a boy, whom she was going to 
 force to the resolution of a man. 
 
 Dandy's sleeping-room was on the same floor as Evan's. 
 Thither, when she had quitted her son, she directed her 
 steps. She had heard Dandy tumble up-stairs the moment 
 his duties were over, and knew what to expect when the 
 bottles had been in his way ; for drink made Dandy savage 
 and a terror to himself. It was her command to him tha( 
 when he happened to come across liquor, he should imme- 
 diately seek his bedroom and bolt the door, and Dandy had 
 got the habit of obeying her. On this occasion he was vin- 
 dictive against her, seeing that she had delivered him over 
 to his enemy with malice prepense. A good deal of knocking, 
 and summoning of Dandy by name, was required before she 
 was admitted, and the sight of her did not delight him, as he 
 testified. 
 
 " I'm drunk ! " he bawled. " Will that do for ye ? " 
 
 Mrs. Mel stood with her two hands crossed above her 
 apron-string, noting his sullen lurking eye with the calm of 
 a tamer of beasts. 
 
 "You go out of the room; I'm drunk!" Dandy re- 
 peated, and pitched forward on the bed-post, in the middle 
 of an oath. 
 
 She understood that it was pure kindness on Dandy's part 
 to bid her go and be out of his reach ; and therefore, on his 
 becoming so abusive as to be menacing, she, without a shade 
 of anger, and in the most unruffled manner, administered to 
 him the remedy she had reserved, in the shape of a smart 
 box on the ear, which sent him flat to the floor. He rose, 
 after two or three efforts, quite subdued. 
 
 " Now, Dandy, sit on the edge of the bed." 
 
 Dandy sat on the extreme edge, and Mrs. Mel pursued : 
 "Now, Dandy, tell me what your master said at the 
 table."
 
 70 EVAN HARRTNGTOK 
 
 " Talked at 'em like a lord, he did," said Dandy, stupidly 
 ^sonsoling the boxed ear. 
 
 " What were his words ? " 
 
 Dandy's peculiarity was, that he never remembered any 
 thing save when drunk, and Mrs. Mel's dose had rather 
 sobered him. By degrees, scratching at his head haltingly, 
 he gave the context. 
 
 " ' Gentlemen, I hear for the first time, you've claims 
 against my poor father. Nobody shall ever say he died, and 
 any man was the worse for it. I'll meet you next week, and 
 I'll bind myself by law. Here's Lawyer Perkins. No ; Mr. 
 Perkins. I'll pay ofi" every penny. Gentlemen, look upon 
 me as you debtor, and not my father.' " 
 
 Delivering this with tolerable steadiness. Dandy asked, 
 " Will that do ? " 
 
 " That will do," said Mrs. Mel. " I'U send you up some 
 tea presently. Lie down. Dandy." 
 
 The house was dark and silent when Evan, refreshed by 
 his rest, descended to seek his mother. She was sitting alone 
 in the parlour. With a tenderness which Mrs. Mel permitted 
 rather than encouraged, Evan put his arm round her neck, 
 and kissed her many times. One of the symptoms of heavy 
 sorrow, a longing for the signs of love, made Evan fondle his 
 mother, and bend over her j^earningly. Mrs. Mel said once : 
 " Dear Van ; good boy ! " and quietly sat through his caresses. 
 
 " Sitting up for me, mother ? " he whispered. 
 
 " Yes, Yan ; we may as well have our talk out." 
 
 "Ah ! " he took a chair close by her side, " tell me my 
 father's last words." 
 
 " He said he hoped you would never be a tailor." 
 
 Evan's forehead wrinkled up. " There's not much fear of 
 that, then ! " 
 
 His mother tui'ned her face on him, and examined him 
 with a rigorous placidity ; all her features seeming to bear 
 down on him. Evan did not like the look. 
 
 " You object to trade, Yan ? " 
 
 "Yes, decidedly, mother — hate it; but that's not what 
 I want to talk to you about. Didn't my father speak of me 
 much?"
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 71 
 
 " He desired that you should wear his militia sword, if 
 you got a commission." 
 
 " I have rather given up hope of the Army," said Evan. 
 
 Mrs. Mel requested him to tell her what a colonel's full 
 pay amounted to ; and again, the number of years it re- 
 quired, on a rough calculation, to attain that grade. In 
 rej)ly to his statement she observed: "A tailor might 
 realize twice the sum in a quarter of the time." 
 
 ""What if he does — double, or treble?" cried Evan, im- 
 petuously ; and to avoid the theme, and cast off the bad im- 
 pression it produced on him, he rubbed his hands, and said : 
 " I want to talk to you about my prospects, mother." 
 
 " What are they ? " Mrs. Mel inquired. 
 
 The severity of her mien and sceptical coldness of her 
 speech caused him to inspect them suddenly, as if she had 
 lent him her eyes. He put them by, till the gold shoiiid 
 recover its natural sbiue, sayiug: "By the way, mother, I've 
 written the half of a History of Portugal." 
 
 " Have you ? " said Mrs. Mel. " Eor Louisa ? " 
 
 "No, mother, of course not: to sell it. Albuquerque! 
 what a splendid fellow he was ! " 
 
 Informing him that he knew she abominated foreign names, 
 she said: "And your prospects are, writing Histories of 
 Portugal?" 
 
 " No, mother. I was going to tell you, I expect a Govern- 
 ment appointment. Mr. Jocelyn likes my work — I think he 
 likes me. You know, I was his private secretary for ten 
 months." 
 
 " You write a good hand," his mother interposed. 
 
 " And I'm certain I was born for diplomacy." 
 
 " Eor an easy chair, and an ink-dish before you, and lac- 
 queys behind. What's to be your income, Yan? " 
 
 Evan carelessly remarked that he must wait and see. 
 
 "A very proper thing to do," said Mrs. Mel; for now that 
 she had fixed him to some explanation of his prospects, she 
 could condescend in her stiff way to banter. 
 
 Slightly touched by it, Evan pursued, half-laughing, as 
 men do who wish to propitiate common sense on behalf of 
 what seems tolerably absurd: "It's not the immediate
 
 72 EVAN HAERINGTON 
 
 income, you know, mother : one thinks of one's future. In 
 the diplomatic service, as Louisa says, you come to be known 
 to Ministers — gradually, I mean. That is, they hear of you ; 
 
 and if you show you have some capacity Louisa wants me 
 
 to throw it up in time, and stand for Parliament. Andrew, 
 she thinks, would be glad to help me to his seat. Once in 
 Parliament, and known to Ministers, you — your career is 
 open to you." 
 
 In justice to Mr. Evan Harrington, it must be said, he 
 built up this extraordinary card-castle to dazzle his mother's 
 mind : he had lost his right grasp of her character for the 
 moment, because of an undefined suspicion of something 
 she intended, and which sent him himself to take refuge 
 in those flimsy structures ; while the very altitude he 
 reached beguiled, his imagination, and made him hope to 
 impress hers. 
 
 Mrs. Mel dealt it one fillip. " And in the meantime how 
 are you to live, and pay the creditors ? " 
 
 Though Evan answered cheerfully, " Oh, they will wait, 
 and I can live on anything," he was nevertheless flounder- 
 ing on the ground amid the ruins of the superb edifice ; 
 and his mother, upright and rigid, continuing, " You can 
 live on anything, and they will wait, and call your father a 
 rogue," he started, grievously bitten by one of the serpents 
 of earth. 
 
 '* Good heaven, mother! what are you saying?" 
 
 ' ' That they will call your father a rogue, and will have a 
 right to," said the relentless woman. 
 
 "Not while I live ! " Evan exclaimed. 
 
 "You may stop one mouth with your fist, but you won't 
 stop a dozen, Yan." 
 
 Evan jumped up and walked the room. 
 
 " What am I to do ? " he cried. " I will pay everything. 
 I will bind myself to pay every farthing. What more can 
 I possibly do?" 
 
 "Make the money," said Mrs. Mel's deep voice. 
 
 Evan faced her : " My dear mother, you are very unjust 
 and inconsiderate. I have been working and doing my best. 
 I promise what do the debts amount to?"
 
 MOTHER AND SON". 73 
 
 " Something like 5000/. in all, Van." 
 
 " Very well." Youth is not alarmed by the sound of big 
 Bums. "Very well — I will pay it." 
 
 Evan looked as proud as if he had just clapped down the 
 full amount on the table. 
 
 " Out of the History of Portugal, half written, and the 
 prospect of a Government appointment ? " 
 
 Mrs. Mel raised her eyelids to him. 
 
 "In time — in time, mother ! " 
 
 " Mention your proposal to the creditors when j-ou meet 
 them this day week," she said. 
 
 I^either of them spoke for several minutes. Then Evan 
 came close to her, saying : 
 
 "What is it you want of me, mother ? " 
 
 " /want nothing, Van — I can support myself." 
 
 " But what would you have me do, mother ? " 
 
 " Be honest; do your duty, and don't be a fool about it." 
 
 "I will try," he rejoined. "You tell me to make the 
 money. Where and how can I make it ? I am perfectly 
 willing to work." 
 
 " In this house," said Mrs. Mel ; and, as this was pretty 
 clear speaking, she stood up to lend her figure to it. 
 
 " Here ? " faltered Evan. " What ! be a " 
 
 " Tailor ! " The word did not sting her tongue. 
 
 " I ? Oh, that's quite impossible ! " said Evan. And 
 visions of leprosy, and Rose shrinking her skirts from contact 
 with him, shadowed out and away in his mind. 
 
 "Understand your choice!" Mrs. Mel imperiously spoke. 
 "What are brains given you for? To be played the fool 
 with by idiots and women? You have 5000i^. to pay to 
 save your father from being called a rogue. You can only 
 make the money in one way, Avhich is open to you. This 
 business might produce a thousand pounds a-year and more. 
 In seven or eight years you may clear your lather's name, 
 and live better all the time than many of your bankrupt 
 gentlemen. You have told the creditors you will pay them. 
 Do you think they're gaping fools, to be satisfied by a History 
 of Portugal? If you refuse to take the business at once, they 
 will sell me up, and quite right too. Understand your choice.
 
 74 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 There's Mr. Goren has promised to have you in London a 
 couple of months, and teach you what he can. He is a kind 
 friend. Would any of your gentlemen acquaintance do the 
 like for vou ? TJnierstand your choice. You will be a 
 beggar — the son of a rogue — or an honest man who has 
 cleared his father's name ! " 
 
 During this strenuously uttered allocution, Mrs. Mel, 
 though her chest heaved but faintly against her crossed 
 hands, showed by the dilatation of her eyes, and the light in 
 them, that she felt her words. There is that in the aspect of 
 a fine frame breathing hard facts, which, to a youth who has 
 been tumbled headlong from his card-castles and airy fabrics, 
 is masterful, and like the pressure of a Pate. Evan drooped 
 his head. 
 
 "Now," said Mrs. Mel, " you shall have some supper." 
 
 Evan told her he could not eat. 
 
 "I insist upon your eating," said Mrs. Mel; "empty 
 stomachs are foul counsellors." 
 
 " Mother ! do you want to drive me mad ? " cried Evan. 
 
 She looked at him to see whether the string she held him 
 by would bear this slight additional strain : decided not to 
 press a small point. 
 
 " Then go to bed and sleep on it," she said — sure of him — 
 and gave her cheek for his kiss, for she never performed the 
 operation, but kept her mouth, as she remarked, for food and 
 speech, and not for slobbering mummeries. 
 
 Evan returned to his solitary room. He sat on the bed and 
 tried to think, oppressed by horrible sensations of self-con- 
 tempt, that caused whatever he touched to sicken him. 
 
 There were the Douglas and the Percy on the wall. It was 
 a happy and a glorious time, was it not, when men lent each 
 other blows that killed outright; when to be brave and 
 cherish noble feelings brought honour; when strength of 
 arm and steadiness of heart won fortune ; when the fair stars 
 of earth — sweet women — wakened and warmed the love of 
 squires of low degree. This legacy of the dead man's hand ! 
 Evan would have paid it with his blood ; but to be in bondage 
 all his days to it ; through it to lose all that was dear to him ;
 
 INTRODUCES AN ECCENTRIC. 75 
 
 to wear the length of a loathed existence ! — we should pardon 
 a young man's wretchedness at the prospect, for it was in a 
 time before our joyful era of universal equality. Yet he 
 never cast a shade of blame upon his father. 
 
 The hours moved on, and he found himself staring at his 
 small candle, which struggled more and more faintly with 
 the morning light, like his own flickering ambition againsL 
 the facts of life. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ESTTRODrCES AI^" ECCENTETC. 
 
 At the Aurora — one of those rare antiquated taverns, 
 smelling of comfortable time and solid English fare, that had 
 sprung up in the great coffee days, when taverns were clubs, 
 and had since subsisted on the attachment of steady bachelor 
 Templars — there had been dismay, and even sorrow, for a 
 month. The most constant patron of the establishment — an 
 old gentleman who had dined there for seven-and-twenty 
 years, four days in the week, off dishes dedicated to 
 the particular days, and had grown grey with the land- 
 lady, the cook, and the head-waiter — this old gentleman 
 had abruptly withheld his presence. Though his name, his 
 residence, his occupation, were things only to be speculated 
 on at the Aurora, he was very well known there, and as 
 men are best to be known : that is to say, by their habits. 
 Some affection for him also was felt. The landlady looked 
 on him as a part of the house. The cook and the waiter 
 were accustomed to receive acceptable compliments from him 
 monthly. His precise words, his regular ancient jokes, his 
 pint of Madeira and after-pint of Port, his antique bow to the 
 landlady, passing out and in, his method of spreading his 
 table-napkin on his lap and looking up at the ceiling ere he 
 fell to, and how he talked to himself during the repast, and 
 indulged in short chuckles, and the one look of perfect felicity 
 that played over his features when he had taken his first sip 
 of Pert — these were matters it pained them at the Aurora to
 
 76 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 have to remember. For three weeks the resolution not to 
 regard him as of the past was general. The Aurora was the 
 old gentleman's home. Men do not play truant from home 
 at sixty years of age. He must, therefore, be seriously indis- 
 posed. The kind heart of the landlady fretted to think he 
 might have no soul to nurse and care for him ; but she kept 
 his corner near the fire-place vacant, and took care that his 
 pint of Madeira was there. The belief was gaining ground 
 that he had gone, and that nothing but his ghost would ever 
 sit there again. Still the melancholy ceremony continued : 
 for the landlady was not without a secret hope that, in spite 
 of his reserve and the mystery surrounding him, he would 
 have sent her a last word. The cook and head- waiter, 
 interrogated as to their dealings with the old gentleman, 
 testified solemnly to the fact of their having performed their 
 duty by him. They would not go against their interests so 
 much as to forget one of his ways, they said — taking oath, as 
 it were, by their lower nature, in order to be credited : an 
 instinct men have of one another. The landlady could not 
 contradict them, for the old gentleman had made no com- 
 plaint ; but then she called to memory that fifteen years back, 
 in such and such a year, "Wednesday's dish had been, by 
 shameful oversight, furnished him for Tuesday's, and he had 
 eaten it quietly, but refused his Port; which pathetic event 
 had caused alarm and inquiry, when the error was discovered, 
 and apologized for, the old gentleman merely saying, " Don't 
 ]et it happen again." Next day he drank his Port, as usual, 
 and the wheels of the Aurora went smoothly. The landlady 
 was thus justified in averring that something had been done 
 by somebody, albeit unable to point to anything specific. 
 "Women, who are almost as deeply bound to habit as old 
 gentlemen, possess more of its spiritual element, and are 
 warned by dreams, omens, creepings of the flesh, unwonted 
 chills, suicide of china, and other shadowing signs, when a 
 break is to be anticipated, or has occurred. The landlady of 
 the Aurora tavern was visited by none of these, and with 
 that sweet and beautiful trust which habit gives, and whic'n 
 boastful love or vainer earthly qualities would fail in eff'ect- 
 ing, she ordered that the pint of Madeira stood from six
 
 INTRODUCES AN ECCENTPJC. 77 
 
 o'clock in the evening till seven — a small monument of con- 
 fidence in him who was at one instant the "poor old dear;" 
 at another, the " naughty old gad-ahout ; " further, the 
 "faithless old good-for-nothing;" and again, the '' hlessed 
 pet" of the landlady's parlour, alternately and indiscriminately 
 apostrophized by herself, her sister, and daughter. 
 
 On the last day of the month a step was heard coming up 
 the long alley which led from the riotous scrambling street 
 to the j)lentiful cheerful heart of the Aurora. The landlady 
 knew the step. She checked the natural flutterings of her 
 ribbons, toned down the strong simper that was on her lips, 
 rose, pushed aside her daughter, and, as the step approached, 
 curtsied composedly. Old Habit lifted his hat, and passed. 
 With the same touching confidence in the Aurora that the 
 Aurora had in him, he went straight to his corner, expressed 
 no surprise at his welcome by the Madeira, and thereby 
 apparently indicated that his appearance should enjoy a 
 similar immunity. 
 
 As of old, he called "Jonathan !" and was not to be dis- 
 turbed till he did so. Seeing that Jonathan smirked and 
 twiddled his napkin, the old gentleman added, " Thursday I " 
 
 But Jonathan, a man, had not his mistress's keen intuition 
 of the deportment necessitated by the case, or was incapable 
 of putting the screw upon weak excited nature, for he con- 
 tinued to smirk, and was remarking how glad he was, he was 
 sure, and something he had dared to think and almost to fear, 
 when the old gentleman called to him, as if he were at the 
 other end of the room, " "Will you order Thursday, or not, 
 sir ? " Whereat Jonathan flew, and two or three cosy diners 
 glanced up from their plates, or the paper, smiled, and pur- 
 sued their capital occupation. 
 
 "Glad to see me!" the old gentleman muttered, queru- 
 lously. " Of course, glad to see a customer ! Why do you 
 tell me that ? Talk ! tattle ! might as well have a woman to 
 wait — ^just ! " 
 
 He wiped his forehead largely with his handkerchief, as 
 one whom Calamity hunted a little too hard in summer 
 weather. 
 
 " No tumbling-room for the wine, too ! "
 
 78 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 That was his next grievance. He changed the pint of 
 Madeira from his left side to his right, and went under his 
 handkerchief again, feverishly. The world was severe with 
 this old gentleman. 
 
 " Ah ! clock wrong now ! " 
 
 He leaned back like a man who can no longer carry his 
 burdens, informing Jonathan, on his coming up to place the 
 roll of bread and firm butter, that he was forty seconds too 
 fast, as if it were a capital offence, and he deserved to stej 
 into Eternity for outstripping Time. 
 
 "But, I daresay, you don't understand the importance of 
 a minute," said the old gentleman, bitterly. "Not you, or 
 any of you. Better if we had run a little ahead of ^jour 
 minute, perhaps — and the rest of you! Do you think you 
 can cancel the mischief that's done in the world in that 
 minute, sir, by hurrying ahead like that ? Tell me ! " 
 
 Rather at a loss, Jonathan scanne 1 the clock seriously, and 
 observed that it was not quite a minute too fast. 
 
 The old gentleman pulled out his watch. 
 
 "Forty seconds! That's enough. Men are hung for 
 ■vvhat's done in forty seconds. Mark the hour, sir ! mark the 
 hour, and read the newspaper attentively for a year !" 
 
 With which stern direction the old gentleman interlaced 
 his fingers on the table, and sounded three emphatic knocks, 
 while his chin, his lips, nose, and eyebrows were pushed up 
 to a regiment of wrinkles. 
 
 " We'll put it right sir, presently," murmured Jonathan, 
 in soothing tones ; " I'll attend to it myself." 
 
 The old gentleman seemed not to object to making the 
 injury personal, though he complained on broad grounds, for 
 he grunted that a lying clock was hateful to him ; subse- 
 quently sinking into contemplation of his thumbs, — a sign 
 known to Jonathan as indicative of the old gentleman's 
 svstem having resolved, in spite of external outrages, to be 
 ibrtified with calm to meet the repast. 
 
 It is not fair to go behind an eccentric ; but the fact was, 
 this old gentleman was slightly ashamed of his month's va- 
 grancy and cruel conduct, and cloaked his behaviour toward 
 the Aurora, in all the charges he could muster against it. 
 
 !
 
 INTRODUCES AN ECCENTKIC. T9 
 
 You SQe, he was very human, albeit an odd form of the 
 race. 
 
 Happily for his digestion of Thursday, the cook, warned 
 by Jonathan, kept the old gentleman's time, not the Aurora's : 
 and the dinner was correct ; the dinner was eaten in peace ; 
 the old gentleman began to address his plate vigorously, 
 poured out his Madeira, and chuckled, as the familiar ideas 
 engendered by good wine were revived in him. Jonathan 
 reported at the bar that the old gentleman was all right again. 
 
 One would like here to pause, while our worthy ancient 
 feeds, and indulge in a short essay on Habit, to show what a 
 sacred and admirable thiog it is that makes flimsy Time sub- 
 stantial, and consolidates his triple life. It is proof that we 
 have come to the end of dreams, and Time's delusions, and 
 are determined to sit down at Life's feast and carve for our- 
 selves. Its day is the child of yesterday, and has a claim on 
 to-morrow. Whereas those who have no such plan of exist- 
 ence and sum of their wisdom to show, the winds blow them 
 as they list. Sacred, I say ; for is it not a sort of aping in 
 brittle clay of the everlasting Round we look to ? We sneer 
 at the slaves of Habit ; but may it not be the result of a 
 strong soul, after shooting vainlj^ thither and yon, and finding 
 not the path it seeketh, lying down weariedly and imprinting 
 its great instinct on the prison-house where it must serve its 
 term? So that a boiled pullet and a pint' of Madeira on 
 Thursdays, for certain, becomes a solace and a symbol of per- 
 petuity ; and a pint of Port every day, is a noble piece of 
 Habit, and a distinguishing stamp on the body of Time, fore 
 and aft ; one that I, for my part, wish every man in these 
 islands might daily affix. Consider, then, mercifully the 
 wrath of him on whom carelessness or forgetfulness has 
 brought a snap in the links of Habit. You incline to scorn 
 him because, his slippers misplaced, or asparagus not on his 
 table the first day of a particular Spring month, he gazes 
 bjankly and sighs as one who saw the End. To you it may 
 appear small. You call to him to be a man. He is : but he is 
 also an immortal, and his confidence in unceasing orderly 
 progression is rudely dashed. Believe me, the philosopher, 
 whose optics are symbols, weeps for him !
 
 80 EVAN HARRINGTOK 
 
 But the old gentleman has finished his dinner and his 
 Madeira, and says : " Now, Jonathan, ' thock ' the Port ! " — 
 his joke when matters have gone well : meant to express the 
 sound of the uncorking, probably. The habit of making good 
 jokes is rare, as you know : old gentlemen have not yet 
 attained to it : nevertheless Jonathan enjoys this one, which 
 has seen a generation in and out, for he knows its purport to 
 be, " My heart is open." 
 
 And now is a great time with the old gentleman. He sips, 
 and in his eyes the world grows rosy, and he exchanges mute 
 or monosyllable salutes here and there. His habit is to avoid 
 converse ; but he will let a light remark season meditation. 
 
 He says to Jonathan : " The bill for the month," 
 
 "Yes, sir," Jonathan replies. "Would you not prefer, 
 sir, to have the items added on to the month ensuing?" 
 
 "I asked you for the bill of the month," said the old 
 gentleman, with an irritated voice and a twinkle in his 
 eye. 
 
 Jonathan bowed ; but his aspect betrayed perplexity, and 
 that perplexity was soon shared by the landlady : for Jonathan 
 said, he was convinced the old gentleman intended to pay for 
 sixteen days, and the landlady could not bring her hand to 
 charge him for more than two. Here was the dilemma fore- 
 seen by the old gentleman, and it added vastly to the flavour 
 of the Port. 
 
 Pleasantly tickled, he sat gazing at his glass, and let the 
 minutes fly. He knew the part he would act in his little 
 farce. If charged for the whole month, he would peruse the 
 bill deliberately, and perhaps cry out "Hulloa?" and then 
 snap at Jonathan for the interposition of a remark. But if 
 charged for two days, he would wish to be told whether they 
 were demented, those people outside, and scornfully return 
 the bill to Jonathan. 
 
 A slap on the shoulder, and a voice : " Found you at last, 
 Tom ! " violently shattered the excellent plot, and made the 
 old gentleman start. He beheld Mr. Andrew Cogglesby. 
 
 " Drinking Port, Tom?" said Mr. Andrew. " I'll join 
 you : " and he sat down opposite to him, rubbing his hands 
 and pushing back his hair.
 
 INTRODUCES AN ECCENTRIC. 81 
 
 Jonathan entering briskly with the bill, fell back a step, 
 in alarm. The old gentleman, whose inviolacy was thus 
 rudely assailed, sat staring at the intruder, his mouth com- 
 pressed, and three fingers round his glass, which it was 
 doubtful whether he was not going to hurl at him. 
 
 " Waiter ! " Mr. Andrew carelessly hailed, " a pint of this 
 Port, if you please." 
 
 Jonathan sought the countenance of the old gentleman. 
 
 "Do you hear, sir?" cried the latter, turning his wrath 
 on him. "Another pint!" He added: "Take back the 
 bill; " and away went Jonathan to relate fresh marvels to 
 his mistress. 
 
 Mr. Andrew then addressed the old gentleman in the most 
 audacious manner. 
 
 "Astonished to see me here, Tom? Dare say you are. I 
 knew you came somewhere in this neighbourhood, and, as I 
 wanted to speak to you very particularly, and you wouldn't 
 be visible till Monday, why, I spied into two or three places, 
 and here I am." 
 
 You might see they were brothers. They had the same 
 bushy eyebrows, the same healthy colour in their cheeks, 
 the same thick shoulders, and brisk way of speaking, and 
 clear, sharp, though kindly, eyes; only Tom was cast in 
 larger proportions than Andrew, and had gotten the grey 
 furniture of Time for his natural wear. Perhaps, too, a cross 
 in early life had a little twisted him, and set his mouth in a 
 rueful bunch, out of which occasionally came biting things. 
 Mr. Andrew carried his head up, and eyed every man living 
 with the benevolence of a patriarch, dashed with the impu- 
 dence of a London sparrow. Tom had a nagging air, and a 
 trifle of acridity on his broad features. Still, anyone at a 
 glance could have sworn they were brothers, and Jonathan 
 unhesitatingly proclaimed it at the Aurora bar. 
 
 Mr. Andrew's hands were working together, and at them, 
 and at his face, the old gentleman continued to look with a 
 firmly interrogating air. 
 
 " Want to know what brings me, Tom ? I'll tell you 
 presently. Hot, — isn't it ? " 
 
 "What the deuce are you taking exercise for?" the old 
 
 a
 
 82 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 gentleman burst out, and having unlocked his mouth, he 
 began to pufF and alter his posture. 
 
 " There you are, thawed in a minute! " said Mr. Andrew. 
 "What's an eccentric? a child grown grey. It isn't mine. 
 I read it somewhere. Ah, here's the Port ! — good, I'll 
 warrant." 
 
 Jonathan deferentially uncorked, excessive composure on 
 his visage. He arranged the table-cloth to a nicety, fixed the 
 bottle with exactness, and was only sent scudding by the old 
 gentleman's muttering of: "Eavesdropping pie!" followed 
 by a short, "Go !" and even then he must delay to sweep off 
 a particular crumb. 
 
 " Good it is ! " said Mr. Andrew, rolling the flavour on his 
 lips, as he put down his glass. " I follow you in Port, Tom. 
 Elder brother ! " 
 
 The old gentleman also drank, and was mollified enough 
 to reply : " Shan't follow you in Parliament." 
 
 " Haven't forgiven that yet, Tom ? " 
 
 " No great harm done when you're silent." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! "Well, I don't do much mischief, then." 
 
 " No. Thank your want of capacity ! " 
 
 Mr. Andrew laughed good-humoiiredly. " Capital place 
 to let ofi" gas in, Tom." 
 
 " Thought so. I shouldn't be safe there." 
 
 "Eh? Why not?" 
 
 Mr. Andrew expected the grim joke, and encouraged it. 
 
 "I do carry some light about," the old gentleman em- 
 phasized and Mr. Andrew called him too bad ; and the old 
 gentleman almost consented to smile. 
 
 " 'Gad, you blow us up out of the House. What would 
 you do in ? Smithereens, I think ! " 
 
 The old gentleman looked mild promise of Smithereens, in 
 that contingency, adding: " No danger." 
 
 " Capital Port ! " said Mr. Andrew, replenishing the glasses. 
 " I ought to have inquired where they kept the best Port. I 
 might have known you'd stick by it. By the way, talking 
 of Parliament, there's talk of a new election for Fallowfield. 
 You have a vote there. Will you give it to Jocelyn? There's 
 talk of his standing."
 
 INTRODUCES AN ECCENrRIC. 83 
 
 " If he'll wear petticoats, I'll give him my vote." 
 
 " There you go, Tom ! " 
 
 " I hate masquerades. You're penny trumpets of the 
 women. That tattle comes from the bed-curtains. When a 
 petticoat steps forward I give it my vote, or else I button it 
 up in my pocket." 
 
 This was probably one of the longest speeches he had ever 
 delivered at the Aurora. There was extra Port in it. Jona- 
 than, who from his place of observation noted the length of 
 time it occupied, though he was unable to gather the context, 
 glanced at Mr. Andrew with a mixture of awe and sly satis- 
 faction. Mr. Andrew, laughing, signalled for another pint. 
 
 " So you've come here for my vote, have you ? " said the 
 old gentleman. 
 
 "Why, no ; not exactly that, Tom," Mr. Andrew answered, 
 blinking and passing it by. 
 
 Jonathan brought the fresh pint, and the old gentleman filled 
 for himself, drank, and said emphatically, and with a con- 
 founding voice : 
 
 " Your women have been setting you on me, sir !" 
 
 Mr. Andrew protested that he was entirely mistaken. 
 
 " You're the puppet of your women ! " 
 
 " Well, Tom, not in this instance. Here's to the bachelors, 
 and brother Tom at their head ! " 
 
 It seemed to be Mr. Andrew's object to help his companion 
 to carry a certain quantity of Port, as if he knew a virtue it 
 had to subdue him, and to have fixed on a particular measure 
 that he should hold before he addressed him specially. 
 Arrived at this, he said : 
 
 " Look here, Tom. I know your ways. I shouldn't have 
 bothered you here ; I never have before ; but we couldn't 
 very well talk it over in business hours ; and besides you're 
 never at the brewery tiU Monday, and the matter's rather 
 urgent." 
 
 " Why don't you speak like that in Parliament ? " the old 
 man interposed. 
 
 "Because Parliament isn't my brother," replied Mr. 
 Andrew. " You know, Tom, you never quite took to my 
 wife's family." 
 
 a 2
 
 84 EVAN HAERINGTOIT. 
 
 " I'm not a match for fine ladies, jS'an." 
 
 " Well, Harriet would have taken to you, Tom, and will 
 now, if you'll let her. Of course, it's a pity if she's ashamed 
 
 of hem ! You found it out about the Lymport people, 
 
 Tom, and you've kept the secret and respected her feelings, 
 and I thank you for it. Women are odd in those things, you 
 know. She mustn't imagine I've heard a whisper. I believe 
 it would kill her." 
 
 The old gentleman shook silently. 
 
 "Do you want me to travel over the kingdom, hawking her 
 for the daughter of a marquis ? " 
 
 " I^ow, don't joke, Tom. I'm serious. Are you not a 
 Radical at heart ? Why do you make such a set against the 
 poor women ? What do we spring from ? " 
 
 " I take off my hat, Nan, when I see a cobbler's stall." 
 
 " And I, Tom, don't care a rush who knows it. Homo — 
 something ; but we never had much schooling. We've 
 thriven, and should help those we can. We've got on in the 
 world . . ." 
 
 " Wife come back from Lymport ? " sneered the old 
 gentleman. 
 
 Mr. Andrew hurriedly, and with some confusion, explained 
 that she had not been able to go, on account of the child. 
 
 "Account of the child!" his brother repeated, working 
 his chin contemptuously. " Sisters gone ? " 
 
 "They're stopping with us," said Mr. Andrew, reddening. 
 
 " So the tailor was left to the kites and the crows. Ah ! 
 hum ! " and Tom chuckled. 
 
 "You're angry with me, Tom, for coming here," said Mr. 
 Andrew. "I see what it is. Thought how it would be! 
 You're offended, old Tom." 
 
 " Come where you like," returned Tom, " the place is 
 open. It's a fool that hopes for peace anywhere. They sent 
 a woman here to wait on me, this day month." 
 
 "That's a shame!" said Mr. Andrew, propitiatingly. 
 " Well, never mind, Tom : the women are sometimes in 
 the way. — Evan went down to bury his father. He's there 
 now. You wouldn't see him when he was at the brewery, 
 Tom. He's — upon my honour I he's a good young fellow."
 
 INTRODUCES AN ECCENTRIC. 85 
 
 " A fine young gentleman, I've no doubt, Nan.'' 
 
 " A really good lad, Tom. No nonsense. I've come here 
 to speak to you about him." 
 
 Mr. Andrew drew a letter from his pocket, pursuing: 
 " Just throw aside your prejudices, and read this. It's a 
 letter I had from him this morning. But first I must tell you 
 how the case stands." 
 
 " Know more than you can tell me, Nan," said Tom, turning 
 over the flavour of a gulp of his wine, 
 
 " "Well, then, just let me repeat it. He has been capitally 
 educated ; he has always been used to good society : well, 
 we mustn't sneer at it : good society's better than bad, you'll 
 allow. He has refined tastes : well, you wouldn't like to 
 live among crossing-sweepers, Tom. He's clever and accom- 
 plished, can speak and write in three languages : I wish I 
 had his abilities. He has good manners: well, Tom, you 
 know you like them as well as anybody. And now — but 
 read for yourself." 
 
 *' Tah ! " went old Tom. " The women have been playing 
 the fool with him since he was a baby, /read his rigma- 
 role? No." 
 
 Mr. Andrew shrugged his shoulders, and opened the letter, 
 saying: "Well, listen;" and then he coughed, and rapidly 
 skimmed the introductory part. "Excuses himself for 
 addressing me formally — poor boy ! Circumstances have 
 altered his position towards the world : found his father's 
 aff'airs in a bad state: only chance of paying off father's debts 
 to undertake management of business, and bind himself to so 
 much a year. But there, Tom, if you won't read it, you 
 miss the poor young fellow's character. He says that he has 
 forgotten his station : fancied he was superior to trade, but 
 hates debt ; and will not allow anybody to throw dii't at his 
 father's name, while he can work to clear it ; and will sacrifice 
 his pride. Come, Tom, that's manly, isn't it? I call it 
 touching, poor lad ! " 
 
 Manly it may have been, but the touching part of it was a 
 feature missed in Mr. Andrew's hands. At any rate, it did 
 not appear favourably to impress Tom, whose chin had 
 gathered its ominous puckers, as he inquired :
 
 86 EVAN HAERINGTON. 
 
 "What's the trade? he don't say." 
 
 Andrew added, with a wave of the hand : " Out of a sort 
 of feeling for his sisters — I like him for it. Now what I 
 want to ask you, Tom, is, whether we can't assist him in 
 some way! Why couldn't we take him into our office, and. 
 fix him there, eh? If he works well — we're both getting 
 old, and my brats are chicks — we might, by-and-by, give 
 him a share." 
 
 " Make a brewer of him? Ha! there'd be another mighty 
 sacrifice for his pride ! " 
 
 " Come, come, Tom," said Andrew, " he's my wife's 
 brother, and I'm your's ; and — there, you know what women 
 are. They like to preserve appearances : we ought to con- 
 sider them." 
 
 "Preserve appearances!" echoed Tom: "ha! who'll do 
 that for them better than a tailor ? " 
 
 Mr. Andrew was, an impatient little man, fitter for a kind 
 action than to plead a cause. Jeering jarred on him ; and 
 from the moment his brother began it, he was of small ser- 
 vice to Evan. He flung back against the partition of the 
 compound, rattling it to the disturbance of many a quiet 
 digestion. 
 
 " Tom," he cried, " I believe you're a screw ! " 
 
 " Never said I wasn't," rejoined Tom, as he finished his 
 glass. " I'm a bachelor, and a person — you're married, and 
 an object. I won't have the tailor's family at my coat- 
 tails.' ' 
 
 "Do you mean to say, Tom, you don't like the young 
 fellow? The Countess says he's half engaged to an heiress; 
 and he has a chance of appointments — of course, nothing may 
 come of them. But do you mean to say, you don't like him 
 for what he has done ? " 
 
 Tom made his jaw disagre'eably prominent. " Traid I'm 
 guilty of that crime." 
 
 " And you that swear at people pretending to be above 
 their station!" exclaimed Andrew. "I shall get in a passion. 
 I can't stand this. Here, waiter ! what have I to pay?" 
 
 " Go," cried the time-honoured guest of the Aurora to 
 Jonathan, advancing.
 
 INTRODUCES AN ECCENTRIC. 87 
 
 Andrew pressed tlie very roots of his hair back from his 
 red forehead, and sat upright and resolute, glancing at Tom. 
 And now ensued a curious scene of family blood. For no 
 sooner did elderly Tom observe this bantam-like demeanour 
 of his brother, than he ruffled his feathers likewise, and 
 looked down on him, agitating his wig over a prodigious 
 frown. Whereof came the following sharp colloquy ; Andrew 
 beginning : 
 
 " I'll pay off the debts out of my own pocket." 
 
 " You can make a greater fool of yourself, then? " 
 
 "He shan't be a tailor ! " 
 
 " He shan't be a brewer ! " 
 
 " I say he shall live like a gentleman ! " 
 
 " I say he shall squat like a Turk ! " 
 
 Bang went Andrew's hand on the table: "I've pledged 
 my word, mind ! " 
 
 Tom made a counter demonstration: "And I'll have my 
 way!" 
 
 " Hang it ! I can be as eccentric as you," said Andrew. 
 
 "And I as much a donkey as you, if I try hard," said 
 Tom. 
 
 Something of the cobbler's stall followed this ; till waxing 
 furious, Tom smig out to Jonathan, hovering around them in 
 watchful timidity, " More Port ! " and the words immediately 
 fell oily on the wrath of the brothers ; both commenced 
 wiping their heads with their handkerchiefs : the faces of 
 both emerged and met, with a half-laugh : and, severally 
 determined to keep to what they had spoken, there was a 
 tacit accord between them to drop the subject. 
 
 Like sunshine after smart rain, the Port shone on these 
 brothers. Like a voice from the pastures after the bellowing 
 of the thunder, Andrew's voice asked : " Got rid of that 
 twinge of the gout, Tom? Did you rub in that ointment ? " 
 while Tom replied : "Ay. How about that rheumatism of 
 yours? Have you tried that Indy oil?" receiving a like 
 assurance. 
 
 The remainder of the Port ebbed in meditation and chance 
 remarks. The bit of storm had done them both good; and 
 Tom especially — the cynical, carping, grim old gentleman —
 
 88 EVAN HAREINGTON". 
 
 was mnch improved by the nearer resemblance of his manner 
 to Andrew's. 
 
 Behind this imafFected fraternal concord, however, the fact 
 that they were pledged to a race in eccentricity, was present. 
 They had been rivals before ; and anterior to the date of his 
 marriage, Andrew had done odd eclipsing things. Eut 
 Andrew required prompting to it; he required to be put 
 upon his mettle. Whereas, it was more nature with Tom : 
 nature and the absence of a wife, gave him advantages over 
 Andrew. Besides, he had his character to maintain. He 
 had said the word : and the first vanity of your born eccentric 
 is, that he shall be taken for infallible. 
 
 Presently Andrew ducked his head to mark the evening 
 clouds flushing over the court-yard of the Aurora. 
 
 " Time to be off, Tom," he said : " wife at home." 
 
 "Ah ! " Tom answered. " "Well, I haven't got to go to 
 bed so early." 
 
 " What an old rogue you are, Tom ! " Andrew pushed 
 his elbows forward on the table amiably. " 'Gad, we haven't 
 drunk wine together since — by George ! we'll have another 
 pint." 
 
 " Many as you like," said Tom. 
 
 Over the succeeding pint, Andrew, in whose veins the Port 
 was merry, favoured his brother with an imitation of Major 
 Strike, and indicated his dislike to that officer. Tom in- 
 formed him that Major Strike was speculating. 
 
 " The ass eats at my table, and treats me with contempt." 
 
 "Just tell him that you're putting by the bones for him. 
 He'll want 'em." 
 
 Then Andrew with another glance at the clouds, now 
 violet on a grey sky, said he must really be off. Upon which 
 Tom observed : " Don't come here again." 
 
 " You old rascal, Tom ! " cried Andrew, swinging over 
 the table: "it's quite jolly for us to be hob-a-nobbing together 
 once more. 'Gad ! — no, we won't though ! I promised 
 Harriet. Eh ? What say, Tom ? " 
 
 " 'Nother pint, Nan?" 
 
 Tom shook his head in a roguishly-cosy, irresistible way. 
 Andrew, from a shake of denial and resolve, fell into the 
 eame ; and there sat the two brothers — a j oily picture.
 
 THE COUNTESS IN LOW SOCIETY. 89 
 
 The hour was ten, when Andrew Cogglesby, comforted by 
 Tom's remark, that he, Tom, had a wig, and that he, Andrew, 
 would have a wigging, left the Aurora ; and he left it sing- 
 ing a song. That he would remember his match that night, 
 few might like to wager. Tom Cogglesby had a better- 
 seasoned bachelor head. He still sat at his table, holding 
 before him Evan's letter, of which he had got possession ; 
 and knocking it round and round with a stroke of the fore- 
 finger, to the tune of, " Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, 'pothe- 
 cary, ploughboy, thief; " each profession being sounded as a 
 corner presented itself to the point of his nail. After in- 
 dulging in this species of incantation for some length of time, 
 Tom Cogglesby read the letter from beginni'>ig to end, and 
 called peremptorily for pen, ink, and paper. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE COUNTESS IN LOW SOCIETY. 
 
 By dint of stratagems worthy of a Court intrigue, the 
 Countess de Saldar contrived to traverse the streets of Lym- 
 port, and enter the house where she was born, unsuspected 
 and unseen, under cover of a profusion of lace and veil and 
 mantilla, which only her heroic resolve to keep her beauties 
 hidden from the profane townspeople could have rendered 
 endurable beneath the fervid summer sun. Dress in a foreign 
 style she must, as without it she lost that sense of superiority, 
 which was the only comfort to her in her tribulations. The 
 period of her arrival was ten days subsequent to the burial of 
 her father. She had come in the coach, like any common 
 mortal, and the coachman, upon her request, had put her 
 down at the Governor's house, and the guard had knocked 
 at the door, and the servant had informed her that General 
 Hucklebridge was not the governor of Lymport, nor did 
 Admiral Combleman then reside in the town, which tidings, 
 the coach then being out of sight, it did not disconcert the
 
 90 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 Conntess to hear; and she reached her mother, having, at 
 least, cut off communication with the object of conveyance. 
 
 The Countess kissed her mother, kissed Mrs. Fiske, and 
 asked sharply for Evan. Mrs. Fiske let her know that Evan 
 was in the house. 
 
 "Where ? " inquired the Countess. " I have news of the 
 utmost importance for him. I must see him." 
 
 " Where is he, aunt? " said Mrs. Fiske. "In the shop, I 
 think ; I wonder he did not see you passing, Louisa." 
 
 The Countess went bolt down into a chair. 
 
 " Go to him, Jane," said Mrs. Mel. " Tell him Louisa 
 is here, and don't return." 
 
 Mrs. Fiske departed, and the Countess smiled. 
 
 " Thank you, Mama ! you know I never could bear that 
 odious, vulgar little woman. Oh, the heat! Tou talk of 
 Portugal ! And, oh ! poor dear Papa! what I have suffei'ed ! " 
 
 Flapping her laces for air, and wiping her eyes for sorrow, 
 the Countess poured a flood of sympathy into her mother's 
 ears and then said : 
 
 "But you have made a great mistake. Mama, in allowing 
 Evan to put his foot into that place. He — beloved of an 
 heiress ! Why, if an enemy should hear of it, it would 
 ruin him — positively blast him — for ever. And that she 
 loves him I have proof positive. Yes ; with all her frank- 
 ness, the little thing cannot conceal that from me now. She 
 loves him ! And I desire you to guess. Mama, whether 
 rivals will not abound ? And what enemy so much to be 
 dreaded as a rival ? And what revelation so awful as that 
 he has stood in a — in a — boutique ? " 
 
 Mrs. Mel maintained her usual attitude for listening. It 
 had occurred to her that it might do no good to tell the grand 
 lady, her daughter, of Evan's resolution, so she simply said, 
 " It is discipline for him," and left her to speak a private 
 word with the youth. 
 
 Timidly the Countess inspected the furniture of the apart- 
 ment, taking chiUs at the dingy articles she saw, in the 
 midst of her heat. That she should have sprung from this ! 
 The thought was painful ; still she could forgive Providence 
 so much. But should it ever be known she had snrung from
 
 THE COUNTESS IN LOW SOCIETY. 91 
 
 this ! Alas ! she felt she never could pardon such a dire 
 betrayal. She had come in good spirits, but the mention of 
 Evan's backsliding had troubled her extremely, and though 
 she did not say to herself, What was the benefit resulting 
 from her father's dying, if Evan would be so base-minded ? 
 she thought the thing indefinitely, and was forming the 
 words on her mouth. One Harrington in a shop is equal to 
 all ! when Evan appeared alone. 
 
 "Why, goodness gracious! where's your moustache?" 
 cried the Countess. 
 
 " Gone the way of hair ! " said Evan, coldly stooping to her 
 forehead. 
 
 "Such a distinction!" the Countess continued, reproach 
 fully. " Why, mon Dieu ! one could hardly tell you, as you 
 look now, from the very commonest tradesman — if you were 
 not rather handsome and something of a figure. It's a dis- 
 guise, Evan — do you know that ? " 
 
 " And I've parted with it — that's aU," said Evan. "No 
 more disguises for me !" 
 
 The Countess immediately took his arm, and walked with 
 him to a window. His face was certainly changed. Mur- 
 muiing that the air of Lymport was bad for him, and that he 
 must leave it instantly, she bade him sit aud attend to what 
 she was about to say. 
 
 "While you have been here, degenerating, Evan, day by 
 day — as you always do out of my sight — degenerating ! no 
 less a word ! — I have been slaving in your interests. Yes ; I 
 have forced the Jocelyns socially to acknowledge us. I have 
 not slept ; I have eaten bare morsels. Do abstinence and 
 vigils clear the wits ? I know not ! but indeed they have 
 enabled me to do more in a week than would suffice for a life- 
 time. Hark to me. I have discovered Eose's secret. Si ! 
 It is so 1 Eose loves you. You blush ; you blush like a girl. 
 She loves you, and you have let yourself be seen in a shop ! 
 Contrast me the two things. Oh ! in verity, dreadful as it 
 is, one could almost laugh. But the moment I lose sight of 
 you, my instructions vanish as quickly as that hair on your 
 superior lip, which took such time to perfect. Alas ! you 
 must grow it again immediately. Use any perfumer's con-
 
 92 EVAN HAREINGTOK 
 
 trivance. Rowland ! I have great faith in Rowland. "With- 
 out him, I believe, there would have been many bald women 
 committing suicide ! You remember the bottle I gave to the 
 Count de Yilla Plor ? ' Countess,' he said to me, ' you have 
 saved this egg-shell from a crack by helping to cover it ' — for 
 so he called his head — the top, you know, was beginning to 
 shine like an egg. And I do fear me he would have done it. 
 Ah ! you do not conceive what the dread of baldness is ! To 
 a woman death — death is preferable to baldness ! Baldness 
 is death ! And a wig — a wig ! Oh, horror ! total extinction 
 is better than to rise again in a wig ! But you are young, 
 and play with hair. But I was saying, I went to see the 
 Jocelyns. I was introduced to Sir Franks and his lady and 
 the wealthy grandmother. And I have an invitation for you, 
 Evan — you unmannered boy, that you do not bow ! A gentle 
 incline forward of the shoulders, and the eyes fixed softly, 
 your upper lids drooping triflingly, as if you thanked with 
 gentle sincerity, but were indifferent. "Well, well, if you 
 will not ! An invitation for you to spend part of the autumn 
 at Beckley Court, the ancestral domain, where there will be 
 company — the nobles of the land ! Consider that. You say 
 it was bold in me to face them after that horrible man com- 
 mitted us on board the vessel ? A Harrington is anything 
 but a coward. I did go — and because I am devoted to your 
 interests. That very morning, I saw announced in the paper, 
 just beneath poor Andrew's hand, as he held it up at the 
 breakfast-table, reading it, I saw among the deaths. Sir 
 Abraham Harrington, of Torquay, Baronet, of quinsy ! Twice 
 that good man has come to my rescue ! Oh ! I welcomed 
 him as a piece of Providence ! I turned and said to Harriet, 
 ' I see they have put poor Papa in the paper.' Harriet was 
 staggered. I took the paper from Andrew, and pointed it to 
 her. She has no readiness. She has had no foreign training. 
 She could not comprehend, and Andrew stood on tiptoe, and 
 peeped. He has a bad cough, and coughed himself black in 
 the face. / attribute it to excessive bad manners and his 
 cold feelings. He left the room. I reproached Harriet. But, 
 oh ! the singularity of the excellent fortune of such an event 
 at such a time ! It showed that our Harrington-luck had
 
 THE COUNTESS IN LOW SOCIETY. 93 
 
 not forsaken us. I hurried to the Jocelyns instantly. Of 
 course, it cleared away any suspicions aroused in them by 
 that horrible man on board the vessel. And the tears I wept 
 for Sir Abraham, Evan, in verity they were tears of deep and 
 sincere gratitude ! "What is your mouth knitting the corners 
 at ? Are you laughing ? " 
 
 Evan hastily composed his visage to the melancholy that 
 was no counterfeit in him just then. 
 
 " Yes," continued the Countess, easily reassured, " I shall 
 ever feel a debt to Sir Abraham Harrington, of Torquay. I 
 dare say we are related to him. At least he has done us more 
 service than many a rich and titled relative. No one sup- 
 poses he would acknowledge poor Papa. I can forgive him 
 that, Evan ! " The Countess pointed out her finger with 
 mournful and impressive majesty, "As loe look down on 
 tliat monkey, people of rank and consideration in society 
 look on what poor dear Papa was." 
 
 This was partly true, for Jacko sat on a chair, in his 
 favourite attitude, copied accurately from the workmen of the 
 establishment at their labour with needle and thread. Grow- 
 ing cognizant of the infamy of his posture, the Countess 
 begged Evan to drive him out of her sight, and took a sniff 
 at her smelling-bottle. 
 
 She went on: "Now, dear Van, you would hear of your 
 sweet Rose ? " 
 
 " Not a word ! " Evan hastily answered, 
 
 " Why, what does this indicate ? Whims ! Then you do 
 love?" 
 
 " I tell you, Louisa, I don't want to hear a word of any 
 of them," said Evan, with an angry gleam in his eyes. 
 " They are nothing to me, nor I to them. I — my walk in 
 life is not theirs." 
 
 " Paint heart ! faint heart ! " the Countess lifted a pro- 
 verbial forefinger. 
 
 " Thank heaven, I shall have the consolation of not going 
 about, and bowing and smirking like an impostor ! " Evan 
 exclaimed. 
 
 There was a wider intelligence in the Countess's arrested 
 gaze than she choose to fashion into speech.
 
 M EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 "I knew," she said, " I knew how the air of this horrible 
 Lymport would act on you. But while I live, Evan, you 
 shall not sink in the sludge. Tou, with all the pains I have 
 lavished on you ! and with your presence ! — for you have a 
 presence, so rare among young men in this England ! You, 
 who have been to a Court, and interchanged bows with 
 duchesses, and I know not what besides — nay, I do not accuse 
 you ; but if you had not been a mere boy, and an English boy — 
 poor Eugenia herself confessed to me that you had a look — a 
 tender cleaving of the under-lids — that made her catch her 
 hand to her heart sometimes : it reminded her so accutely of 
 false Belmaraiia. Could you have had a greater compliment 
 than that ? You shall not stop here another day ! " 
 
 "True," said Evan, "for I'm going to London to-night." 
 
 "Not to London," the Countess returned, with a conquer- 
 ing glance, "but to Beckloy Court — and with me." 
 
 " To London, Louisa, ^yiih. Mr. Goren." 
 
 Again the Countess eyed him largely ; but took, as it were, 
 a side-path from her broad thought, saying: " Yes, fortunes 
 are made in London, if you would they should be rapid." 
 
 She meditated. At that moment Dandy knocked at the 
 door, and called outside: "Please, master, Mr. Goren says 
 there's a gentleman in the shop — wants to see you." 
 
 " Yery well," replied Evan, moving. He was swung 
 violently round. 
 
 The Countess had clutched him by the arm. A fearful 
 expression was on her face. 
 
 " Whither do you go ? " she said. 
 
 " To the shop, Louisa." 
 
 Too late to arrest the villanous word, she pulled at him. 
 " Are you quite insane ? Consent to be seen by a gentleman 
 there ? What has come to you ? You must be lunatic ! Are 
 we all to be utterly ruined — disgraced ? " 
 
 " Is my mother to starve ? " said Evan. 
 
 •'Absurd rejoinder! No! You should have sold every- 
 thing here before this. She can live with Harriet — she — 
 once out of this horrible element — she would not show it. 
 But, Evan, you are getting away from me : you are not 
 going ? — speak ! "
 
 THE COUNTESS IN LOW SOCIETY. 95 
 
 " I am going," said Evan. 
 
 Thei Countess clung to him, exclaiming : " Never, while I 
 have the power to detain, you ! " but as he was firm and 
 strong, she had recourse to her woman's aids, and burst into 
 a storm of sobs on his shoiilder — a scene of which Mrs. Mel 
 was, for some seconds, a composed spectator, 
 
 " What's the matter now ? " said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 Evan impatiently explained the case. Mrs. Mel desired 
 her daughter to avoid being ridiculous, and making two fools 
 in her family ; and at the same time that she told Evan there 
 was no occasion for him to go, contrived, with a look, to make 
 the advice a command. He, in that state of mind when one 
 takes bitter delight in doing an abhorred duty, was hardly 
 willing to be submissive ; but the despair of the Countess 
 reduced him, and for her sake he consented to forego the 
 sacrifice of his pride which was now his sad, sole pleasure. 
 Feeling him linger, the Countess relaxed her grasp. Hers 
 were tears that dried as soon as they had served their end; 
 and, to give him the full benefit of his conduct, she said : " I 
 knew Evan would be persuaded by me." 
 
 Evan pitifully pressed her hand, and sighed. 
 
 "Tea is on the table down-stairs," said Mrs. Mel. "I 
 have cooked something for you, Louisa. Do you sleep here 
 to-night ? " 
 
 " Can I tell you. Mama ? " murmured the Countess. " I 
 am dependent on our Evan." 
 
 " Oh ! well, we wiU eat first," said Mrs. Mel, and they 
 went to the table below, the Countess begging her mother to 
 drop titles in designating her to the servants, which caused 
 Mrs. Mel to say : 
 
 "There is but one. I do the cooking," and the Countess, 
 ever disposed to fiatter and be suave, even when stung by a 
 fact or a phrase, added : 
 
 " And a beautiful cook you used to be, dear Mama ! " 
 
 At the table, awaiting them, sat Mrs. Wishaw, Mrs. Eiske, 
 and Mr. Goren, who soon found themselves enveloped in the 
 Countess's graciousness. Mr. Goren would talk of trade, and 
 compare Lymport business with London, and the Countess, 
 loftily interested in his remarks, drew him out to disgust her
 
 96 EVAN HAKEINGTON. 
 
 brother. Mrs. "Wishaw, in whom the Countess at once dis- 
 covered a frivolous pretentious vs^oman of the moneyed trading 
 class, she treated as one who was alive to society, and sur- 
 veyed matters from a station in the world, leading her to 
 think that she tolerated Mr. Goren, as a lady-Christian of the 
 highest rank should tolerate the insects that toil for us. Mrs. 
 I'iske was not so tractable, for Mrs. Fiske was hostile and 
 armed. Mrs. Fiske adored the great Mel, and she had never 
 loved Louisa. Hence, she scorned Louisa on account of her 
 late behaviour toward her dead parent. The Countess saw 
 through her, and laboured to be friendly with her, while she 
 rendered her disagreeable in the eyes of Mrs. Wishaw, and 
 let Mrs. Wishaw perceive that sympathy was possible 
 between them; — manoeuvring a trifle too delicate, perhaps, 
 for the people present, but sufficient to blind its keen-witted 
 author to the something that was being concealed from her- 
 self, of which something, nevertheless, her senses apprehen- 
 sively warned her : and they might have spoken to her wits, 
 but that mortals cannot, unaided, guess, or will not, unless 
 struck in the face by the fact, credit, what is to their minds 
 the last horror. 
 
 " I came down in the coach, quite accidental, with this 
 gentleman," said Mrs. "Wishaw, fanning a cheek and nodding 
 at Mr. Goren. "I'm an old flame of dear Mel's. I knew 
 him when he was an apprentice in London. Now, wasn't it 
 odd ? Your mother — I suppose I must call you ' my lady ? ' " 
 
 The Countess breathed a tender "Spare me," with a smile 
 that added, " among friends ! " 
 
 Mrs. Wishaw resumed : "Tour mother was an old flame 
 of this gentleman's, I found out. So there were two old 
 flames, and I couldn't help thinking ! But I was so glad to 
 have seen dear Mel once more." 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed the Countess. 
 
 " He was always a martial -looking man, and laid out, he 
 was quite imposing. I declare, I cried so, as it reminded 
 me of when I couldn't have him, for he had nothing but his 
 legs and arms — and I married Wishaw. But it's a comfort 
 to think I have been of some service to dear, dear Mel ! for 
 Wishaw' s a man of accounts and payments, and I knew Mel
 
 THE COUNTESS IN LOW SOCIETY. 97 
 
 had cloth from him, and," the ladj^ suggested bills delayed, 
 with two or three nods, " you know ! and I'll do tmj best for 
 his son." 
 
 "Tou are kind," said the Countess, smiling internally at 
 the vulgar creature's misconception of Evan's requirements. 
 
 ''Did he ever talk much about Mary Fence ? " asked Mrs. 
 Wishaw. " ' Polly Fence,' he used to say, * sweet Polly 
 Fence ! '" 
 
 " Oh ! I think so. Frequently," observed the Countess. 
 
 Mrs. Fiske primmed her mouth. . She had never heard the 
 great Mel allude to the name of Fence. 
 
 The Goren-croak was heard : 
 
 " Painters have painted out 'Melchisedec ' this afternoon. 
 Yes, — ah ! In and out — as the saying goes." 
 
 Here was an opportunity to mortify the Countess, 
 
 Mrs. Fiske placidly remarked : "Have we the other put 
 up in its stead? It's shorter." 
 
 A twinge of weakness had made Evan request that the 
 name of Evan Harrington should not decorate the shop-fron„ 
 till he had turned his back on it, for a time. Mrs. Mel 
 crushed her venomous niece. 
 
 " What have you to do with such things ? Shine in your 
 own affairs first, Ann, before you meddle with others." 
 
 Eelieved at hearing that ' Melchisedec ' was painted out, 
 and unsuspicious of the announcement that should replace 
 it, the Countess asked Mrs. Wishaw if she thought Evan like 
 her dear Papa. 
 
 " So like," returned the lady, " that I would not be alone 
 with him yet, for worlds. I should expect him to be making 
 love to me : for, you know, my dear — I must be familiar — 
 Mel never could be alone with you, without ! — It was his 
 nature. / speak of him before marriage. But, if I can 
 trust myself with him, I shall take charge of Mr. Evan, 
 and show him some London society." 
 
 " That is indeed kind," said the Countess, glad of a thick 
 veil for the utterance of her contempt. "Evan, though — I 
 fear — will be rather engaged. His friends, the Jocelyns of 
 Beckley Court, will — I fear — hardly dispense with him : and 
 Lady Splenders — you know her ? the Marchioness of Splen-
 
 98 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 ders ? No ? — by repute, at least : a most beautiful and most 
 fascinating woman ; report of him alone has induced her to 
 say that Evan must and shall form a part of her autumnal 
 gathering at Splenders Castle. And how he is to get out of it, 
 I cannot tell. But I am sure his multitudinous engagements 
 will not prevent his paying due court to Mistress Wishaw." 
 
 As the Countess intended, Mistress Wishaw' s vanity was 
 reproved, and her ambition excited : a pretty double -stroke, 
 only possible to dexterous players. 
 
 The lady rejoined th^t she hoped so, she was sure ; and 
 forthwith (because she suddenly seemed to possess him more 
 than his son), launched upon Mel's incomparable personal 
 attractions. This caused the Countess to enlarge upon Evan's 
 vast personal prospects. They talked across each other a 
 little, tUl the Countess remembered her breeding, allowed 
 Mrs. "Wishaw to run to an end in hollow exclamations, and 
 put a finish to the undeclared controversy, by a traverse of 
 speech, as if she were taking up the most important subject 
 of their late colloquy. " But Evan is not in his own hands 
 — he is in the hands of a lovely young woman, I must tell 
 you. He belongs to her, and not to us. You have heard of 
 Kose Jocelyn, the celebrated heiress?" 
 
 " Engaged ?" Mrs. "Wishaw whispered aloud. 
 
 The Countess, an adept in the lie implied — practised by 
 her, that she might not subject herself to future punishment 
 (in which she was so devout a believer, that she condemned 
 whole hosts to it) — deeply smiled. 
 
 "Really!" said Mrs. "Wishaw, and was about to inquire 
 why Evan, with these brilliant expectations, could think of 
 trade and tailoring, when the young man, whose forehead 
 had been growing black, jumped up, and quitted them ; thus 
 breaking the harmony of the table ; and as the Countess had 
 said enough, she turned the conversation to the always 
 welcome theme of low society. She broached death and 
 corpses; and became extremely interesting, and very sym- 
 pathetic : the only difference between the ghostly anecdotes 
 she related, and those of the other ladies, being that her 
 ghosts were all of them titled, and walked mostly under 
 the burden of a coronet. For instance, there was the Portu-
 
 THE COUNTESS IN LOW SOCIETY. 99 
 
 guese Marquis de Col. He had married a Spanish wife, 
 whose end was mysterious. Undressing, on the night of the 
 anniversary of her death, and on the point of getting into 
 bed, he beheld the dead woman lying on her back before him. 
 AU night long he had to sleep with this freezing phantom ! 
 Regularly, every fresh anniversary, he had to endure the 
 same penance, no matter where he might be, or in what 
 strange bed. On one occasion, when he took the live for the 
 dead, a curious thing occurred, which the Countess scrupled 
 less to relate than would men to hint at. Ghosts were the 
 one childish enjoyment Mrs. Mel allowed herself, and she 
 listened to her daughter intently, ready to cap any narrative ; 
 but Mrs. Fiske stopped the flood. 
 
 " You have improved on Peter Smithers, Louisa," she said. 
 
 The Countess turned to her mildly. 
 
 " You are certainly thinking of Peter Smithers," Mrs. 
 Fiske continued, bracing her shoulders. " Surely, you re- 
 member poor Peter, Louisa ? An old flame of your own ! 
 He was going to kill himself, but married a Devonshire 
 woman, and they had disagreeables, and she died, and he 
 was undressing, and saw her there in the bed, and wouldn't 
 get into it, and had the mattress, and the curtains, and the 
 counterpanes, and everything burnt. He told us it himself. 
 You must remember it, Louisa ? " 
 
 The Countess remembered nothing of the sort. No doubt 
 could exist of its having been the Portuguese Marquis de 
 Col, because he had confided to her the whole affair, and 
 indeed come to her, as his habit was, to ask her what he 
 could possibly do, under the circumstances. If Mrs. Fiske' s 
 friend, who married the Devonshire person, had seen the 
 same thing, the coincidence was yet more extraordinary than 
 the case. Mrs. Fiske said it assuredly was, and glanced at 
 her aunt, who, as the Countess now rose, declaring she 
 must speak to Evan, chid Mrs. Fiske, and wished her and 
 Peter Smithers at the bottom of the sea. 
 
 " No, no. Mama," said the Countess, laughing, " that 
 would hardly be proper," and before Mrs. Fiske could reply, 
 escaped to complain to Evan of the vulgarity of those 
 women. 
 
 n2
 
 100 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 She "was not prepared for the burst of wrath with which 
 Evan met her. 
 
 "Louisa," said he, taking her wrist sternly, "you have 
 done a thing I can't forgive. I find it hard to bear dis- 
 grace myself: I will not consent to bring it upon others. 
 Why did you dare to couple Miss Jocelyn's name with mine ? " 
 
 The Countess gave him out her arm's length. " Speak on. 
 Van," she said, admiring him with a bright gaze. 
 
 " Answer me, Louisa ; and don't take me for a fool any 
 more," he pursued. "You have coupled Miss Jocelyn's 
 name with mine, in company, and I insist now upon your 
 giving me your promise to abstain from doing it anywhere, 
 before anybody." 
 
 "If she saw you at this instant, Yan," returned the in- 
 corrigible Countess, "would she desire it, think you? Oh! 
 I must make you angiy before her, I see that ! You have 
 your father's frown. You surpass him, for your delivery is 
 more correct, and equally fluent. And if a woman is mo- 
 mentarily melted by softness in a man, she is for ever sub- 
 dued by boldness and bravery of mien." 
 
 Evan dropped her hand. " Miss Jocelyn has done me the 
 honour to call me her friend. That was in other days." His 
 lip quivered. "I shall not see Miss Jocelyn again. Yes; 
 I would lay down my life for her ; but that's idle talk. No 
 such chance will ever come to me. But I can save her from 
 being spoken of in alliance with me, and what I am, and I 
 tell you, Louisa, I will not have it." Saying which, and 
 while he looked harshly at her, wounded pride bled through 
 his eyes. 
 
 She was touched. "Sit down, dear; I must explain to 
 you, and make you happy against your will," she said, in 
 another voice, and an English accent. " The mischief is 
 done, Yan. If you do not want Rose Jocelyn to love you, 
 you must undo it in your own way. I am not easily de- 
 ceived. On the morning I went to her house in town, she 
 took me aside, and spoke to me. Not a confession in words. 
 The blood in her cheeks, when I mentioned you, did that for 
 her. Everything about you she must know — how you bore 
 your grief, and all. And not in her usual free manner, but
 
 THE COUNTESS IN LOW SOCIETY. 10] 
 
 timidly, as if she feared a surprise, or feared to be wakened 
 to the secret in her bosom she half suspects — ' Tell him ! ' 
 Rhe said, ' I hope he will not forget me.' " 
 
 The Countess was interrupted by a great sob ; for the pic- 
 ture of frank Rose Jocelyn changed, and soft, and, as it were, 
 shadowed under a veil of bashful regard for him, so filled the 
 young man with sorrowful tenderness, that he trembled, and 
 was as a child. 
 
 Marking the impression she had produced on him, and 
 having worn off that which he had produced on her, the 
 Countess resumed the art in her style of speech, easier to 
 her than nature. 
 
 " So the sweetest of Roses may be yours, dear Van ; and 
 you have her in a gold setting, to wear on your heart. Are 
 you not enviable ? I will not — no, I will not tell you she is 
 perfect. I must fashion the sweet young creature. Though 
 I am very ready to admit that she is much improved by this 
 — shall I call it, desired consummation?" 
 
 Evan co\ild listen no more. Such a struggle was rising in 
 his breast : the effort to quench what the Countess had so 
 shrewdly kindled ; passionate desire to look on Rose but for 
 one lightning flash : desire to look on her, and muffled sense 
 of shame twin-born Avith it : wild love and leaden misery 
 mixed : dead hopelessness and vivid hope. Up to the neck 
 in Purgatory, but his soul saturated with visions of Bliss ! 
 The fair orb of Love was all that was wanted to complete 
 his planetary state, and aloft it sprang, showing many faint, 
 fair tracts to him, and piling huge darknesses. 
 
 As if in search of something, he suddenly went from the room. 
 
 " I have intoxicated the poor boy," said the Countess, and 
 consulted an attitude by the evening light in a mirror. Ap- 
 proving the result, she rang for her mother, and sat with her 
 till dark ; telling her she could not and would not leave her 
 dear Mama that night. At the supper-table Evan did not 
 appear, and Mr. Goren, after taking counsel of Mrs. Mel, 
 dispersed the news that Evan was off to London. Oa the 
 road again, with a purse just as ill-furnished, and in his 
 breast the light that sometimes leads gentlemen, as well as 
 ladies, astray. 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNTVERSTTY OF TattfORNL
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MT GENTLEMAN ON THE KOAD AGAIN. 
 
 'N'eae a milestone, under the moonlight, crouched the 
 figure of a woman, huddled with her head against her 
 knees, and careless hair falling to the summer's dust. Evan 
 came upon this sight within a few miles of Fallowfield. At 
 first he was rather startled, for he had inherited superstitious 
 emotions from his mother, and the road was lone, the moon 
 full. He went up to her and spoke a gentle word, which 
 provoked no reply. He ventured to put his hand on her 
 shoulder, continuing softly to address her. She was flesh 
 and blood. Evan stooped his head to catch a whisper from 
 her mouth, but nothing save a heavier fall of the breath she 
 took, as of one painfully waking, was heard. 
 
 A misery beyond our own is a wholesome picture for 
 youth, and though we may not for the moment compare the 
 deep with the lower deep, we, if we have a heart for outer 
 sorrows, can forget ourselves in- it. Evan had just been 
 accusing the heavens of conspiracy to disgrace him. Those 
 patient heavens had listened, as is their wont. They had 
 viewed and had not been disordered by his mental frenzies. 
 It is certainly hard that they do not come down to us, and 
 condescend to tell us what they mean, and be dumb-foun- 
 dered by the perspicuity of our arguments — the argument, 
 for instance, that they have not fashioned us for the science 
 of the shears, and do yet impel us to wield them. Never- 
 theless, they to whom mortal life has ceased to be a 
 long matter perceive that our appeals for conviction are 
 answered, — now and then very closely upon the call. 
 When we have cast off the scales of hope and fancy, and 
 surrender our claims on mad chance : when the wild 
 particles of this universe consent to march as they are 
 directed, it is given them to see — if they see at all — that 
 Bome plan is working out: that the heavens, icy as they
 
 IIY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD AGAIN. 103 
 
 are to the pangs of our blood, have been throughout speaking 
 to our souls ; and, according to the strength there existing, 
 we learn to comprehend them. But their language is an 
 element of Time, whom primarily we have to know. Thus 
 a grey tailor (for in our noble days we may suppose such 
 a person gifted with that to which they address them- 
 selves), — a tailor in the flourishing of the almond-tree, who 
 looks back on a period when he summoned the bright heavens 
 to consider his indignant protest against the career they have 
 marked out for him ; does he not hear huge shouts of laughter 
 echoing round and round the blue ethereal dome ? Yet they 
 listened, and silently ! 
 
 Evan Harrington was young. He wished not to clothe 
 the generation. What was to the remainder of the exiled sons 
 of Adam simply the brand of expulsion from Paradise, was 
 to him hell. In his agony, anything less than an angel, soft- 
 voiced in his path, would not have satisfied the poor boy, and 
 here was this wretched outcast, and instead of being relieved, 
 he was to act the reliever ! 
 
 Striving to rouse the desolate creature, he shook her slightly. 
 She now raised her head with a slow, gradual motion, like 
 that of a wax-work, showing a white young face, tear- 
 less, — dreadfully drawn at the lips. After gazing at him, 
 she turned her head mechanically towards her shoulder, as 
 to ask him why he touched her. He withdrew his hand, 
 saying : 
 
 " Why are you here ? Pardon me; I want, if possible, to 
 help you." 
 
 A light sprang in her eyes. She jumped from the stone, 
 and ran forward a step or two, with a gasp : 
 
 " Oh, my God ! I want to go and drown myself." 
 
 Evan lingered behind her till he saw her body sway, and 
 in a fit of trembling she half fell on his outstretched arm. 
 He led her to the stone, not knowing what on earth to do 
 with her. There was no sign of a house near ; they were 
 quite solitary ; to all his questions she gave an unintelligiblfc 
 moan. He had not heart to leave her, so, taking a sharp 
 seat on a heap of flints, thus possibly furnishing future 
 occupation for one of his craftsmen, he waited, and amused
 
 104 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 himself by marking out diagrams with his stick in the tlrick 
 dust. 
 
 His thoughts were far away, when he heard, faintly uttered: 
 
 "Why do you stop here ? " 
 
 " To help you." 
 
 " Please don't. Let me be. I can't be helped." 
 
 "My good creature," said Evan, "it's quite impossible 
 that I should leave you in this state. Tell me where you 
 were going when your illness seized you ? " 
 
 "I was going," she commenced vacantly, "to the sea — 
 the water," she added, with a shivering lip. 
 
 The foolish youth asked her if she could be cold on such 
 a night. 
 
 " No, I'm not cold," she replied, drawing closer over her 
 lap the ends of a shawl which would in that period have been 
 thought rather gaudy for her station. 
 
 " You were going to Lymport ? " 
 
 " Yes, — Lymport's nearest, I think." 
 
 " And why were you out travelling at this hour? " 
 
 She dropped her head, and began rocking to right and 
 left. 
 
 While they talked the noise of waggon-wheels was heard 
 approaching. Evan went into the middle of the road, 
 and beheld a covered waggon, and a fellow whom he 
 advanced to meet, plodding a little to the rear of the horses. 
 He proved kindly. He was a farmer's man, he said, and 
 was at that moment employed in removing the furniture 
 of the farmer's son, who had failed as a corn-chandler in 
 Lymport, to Hillford, which he expected to reach about 
 morn. He answered Evan's request that he would afford 
 the young woman conveyance as far as Fallowfield : 
 
 " Tak' her in ? That I will." 
 
 " She won't hurt the harses," he pursued, pointing his 
 whip at the vehicle: "there's my mat', Gearge Stoakes, 
 he's in ther', snorin' his turn. Can't you hear'n a-snorin' 
 thraugh the wheels ? I can ; I've been laughin' ! He do 
 snore that loud — Gearge do !" 
 
 Proceeding to inform Evan how George Stokes had snored 
 in that characteristic manner from boyhood, ever since he and
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD AGAIN. 105 
 
 Oeorge had slept in a hayloft together ; and how he, kept 
 wakeful and driven to distraction by George Stokes' nose, 
 had been occasionally compelled, in sheer self-defence, madly 
 to start up and hold that pertinacious alarum in tight com- 
 pression between thumb and forefinger ; and how George 
 Stokes, thus severely handled, had burst his hold with a 
 tremendous snort, as big as a bull, and had invariably 
 uttered the exclamation, " HuUoa ! — same to you, my lad ! " 
 and rolled over to snore as fresh as ever; — all this with 
 singular rustic comparisons, racy of the soil, and in raw 
 Hampshire dialect, the waggoner came to a halt opposite the 
 stone, and, while Evan strode to assist the girl, addressed 
 himself to the great task of arousing tlie sturdy sleeper and 
 quieting his trumpet, heard by all ears now that the accom- 
 paniment of the wheels was at an end. 
 
 George, violently awakened, complained that it was before 
 his time, to which he was true ; and was for going off again 
 with exalted contentment, though his heels had been tugged, 
 and were dangling some length out of the machine ; but his 
 comrade, with a determined blow of the lungs, gave another 
 valiant pull, and George Stokes was on his legs, marvelling 
 at the world and man. Evan had less difficulty with the 
 girl. She rose to meet him, put up her arms for him to clasp 
 her waist, whispering sharply in an inward breath : " What 
 are you going to do with me .^" and indifferent to his verbal 
 response, trustingly yielded her limbs to his guidance. He 
 could see blood on her bitten underlip, as, with the help of 
 the waggoner, he lifted her on the mattress, backed by a 
 portly bundle, which the sagacity of Mr. Stokes had selected 
 lor his couch. 
 
 The waggoner cracked his whip, laughing at George 
 Stokes, who yawned and settled into a composed plough- 
 swing, without asking questions ; apparently resolved to 
 finish his nap on his legs. 
 
 " Warn't he like that Myzepper chap, I see at the succus, 
 bound athert gray mare ! " chuckled the waggoner. " So 
 he'd 'a gone on, had ye 'a let'n. No wulves waddn't wake 
 Geargo till he'd slept it out. Then he'd say, ' marniu' 1' 
 to 'm. Are ye 'wake now, Gearge ?"
 
 106 EVAN HARRINGTOK 
 
 The admirable sleeper preferred to be a quiet butt, and 
 the waggoner leisurely exhausted the fun that was to be 
 had out of him; returning to it with a persistency that 
 evinced more concentration than variety in his mind. At 
 last Evan said : " Your pace is rather slow. They'll be shut 
 up in Fallowfield. I'll go on ahead. You'll find me at one 
 of the inns — the Green Dragon." 
 
 In return for this speech, the waggoner favoured him with 
 a stare, followed by the exclamation : 
 
 " Oh, no ! dang that ! " 
 
 " Why, what's the matter ? " quoth Evan. 
 
 "You en't goin' to he off, for to leave me and Gearge in 
 the lurch there, with that ther' young woman, in that ther' 
 pickle ! " returned the waggoner. 
 
 Evan made an appeal to his reason, but finding that im- 
 pregnable, he pulled out his scanty purse to guarantee his 
 sincerity with an offer of pledge-money. The waggoner 
 waved it aside. He wanted no money, he said. 
 
 "Look heer," he went on; "if you're for a start, I tells 
 ye plain, I chucks that ther' j^oung woman int' the road." 
 
 Evan bade him not to be a brute. 
 
 " Nack and crop ! " the waggoner doggedly ejaculated. 
 
 Very much surprised that a fellow who appeared sound at 
 heart, should threaten to behave so basely, Evan asked an 
 explanation : upon which the waggoner demanded to know 
 what he had eyes for : and as this query failed to enlighten 
 the youth, he let him understand that he was a man of family 
 experience, and that it was easy to tell at a glance that the 
 complaint the young woman laboured under was one common 
 to the daughters of Eve. He added that, should an emer- 
 gency arise, he, though a family man, would be useless : that 
 he always vacated the premises while those incidental scenes 
 were being enacted at home ; and that for him and George 
 Stokes to be left alone with the young woman, why they 
 would be of no more service to her than a couple of babies 
 new-born themselves. He, for his part, he assured Evan, 
 should take to his heels, and relinquish waggon, and horses, 
 and all ; while George probably would stand and gape ; and 
 the end of it would be, they would all be had up for murder,
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD AGAIN. 107 
 
 He diverged from the alarming prospect, by a renewal of the 
 foregoing alternative to the gentleman who had constituted 
 himself the young woman's protector. If he parted company 
 with them, they would immediately part company with the 
 young woman, whose condition was evident. 
 
 "Why, couldn't you tall that?" said the waggoner, as 
 Evan, tingling at the ears, remained silent. 
 
 "/know nothing of such things," he answered, hastily, 
 like one hurt. 
 
 I have to repeat the statement, that he was a youth, and 
 a modest one. He ftit unaccountably, unreasonably, but hor- 
 ribly, ashamed. The thought of his actual position swamped 
 the sickening disgust at tailordom. "Worse, then, might 
 happen to us in this extraordinary world! There was some- 
 thing more abhorrent than sitting with one's legs crossed, 
 publicly stitching, and scoffed at ! He called Vehemently to 
 the waggoner to whip the horses, and hurry ahead into 
 Fallowfield; but that worthy, whatever might be his dire 
 alarms, had a regular pace, that was conscious of no spur : 
 the reply of " All right ! " satisfied him at least ; and Evan's 
 chaste sighs for the appearance of an assistant petticoat round 
 a turn of the road, were offered up duly, to the measure of 
 the waggoner's steps. 
 
 Suddenly the waggoner came to a halt, and said : " Elest 
 if that Gearge hain't a snorin' on his pins ! " 
 
 Evan lingered by him with some curiosity, while the 
 waggoner thumped his thigh to, " Yes he be ! no he 
 hain't ! " several times, in eager hesitation. 
 
 " It's a fellow calling from the downs," said Evan. 
 
 "Ay, so!" responded the waggoner. " Dang'd if I 
 didn't think 'twere that Grearge of our'n. Hark awhile." 
 
 At a repetition of the call, the waggoner stopped his team. 
 After a few minutes, a man appeared panting on the bank 
 above them, down which he ran precipitately, knocked 
 against Evan, apologized with the little breath that remained 
 to him, and then held his hand as to entreat a hearing. 
 Evan thought him half-mad ; the waggoner was about to 
 imagine him the victim of a midnight assault. He unde- 
 ceived them by requesting, in rather flowery terms, convey-
 
 108 EVAN HAEEINGTON. 
 
 ance on the road and rest for his limbs. It being explained 
 to him that the waggon was alread}^ occupied, he comforted 
 himself aloud with the reflection that it was something to be 
 on the road again for one who had been belated, lost, and 
 wandering over the downs for the last six hours. 
 
 " Walcome to git in, when young woman gits out," said 
 the waggoner. " I'll gi' ye my sleep on t'Hillford." 
 
 " Thanks, worthy friend," returned the new comer. " The 
 state of the case is this — I'm happy to take from humankind 
 whatsoever I can get. If this gentleman will accept of my 
 company, and my legs hold out, all will yet be well." 
 
 Though he did not wear a petticoat, Evan was not sorry to 
 have him. Next to the interposition of the Grods, we pray 
 for human fellowship when we are in a mess. So he 
 mumbled politely, dropped with him a little to the rear, 
 and they all stepped out to the crack of the waggoner's 
 whip. 
 
 " Rather a slow pace," said Evan, feeling bound to con- 
 verse, 
 
 " Six hours on the downs, sir, makes it extremely suitable 
 to me," rejoined the stranger. 
 
 " You lost your way ? " 
 
 "I did, sir. Yes; one does not court those desolate 
 regions wittingly. I am for life and society. The embraces 
 of Diana do not agree with my constitution. My belief — I 
 don't know whether you have ever thought on the point — 
 but I don't hesitate to say I haven't the slightest doubt 
 Endymion was a madman ! I go farther : I say this : that 
 the farmer who trusted that young man with his muttons was 
 quite as bad. And if classics there be who differ from me, 
 and do not reserve all their sympathy for those hapless 
 animals, I beg them to take six hours on the downs alone 
 with the moon, and the last prospect of bread and cheese, 
 and a chaste bed, seemingly utterly extinguished. I am 
 cured of my romance. Of course, sir, when I say bread and 
 cheese, I speak figuratively. Food is implied." 
 
 Evan stole a glance at his companion. 
 
 " Besides, sir," the other continued, with an inflexion of 
 grandeur, "for a man accustomed to his hunters, it is, you
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE ROAD AGAIN. 109 
 
 will confess, somewhat unpleasant for such a man — I speak 
 hypothetically — to be reduced to his legs to that extent that 
 it strikes him shrewdly he will run them into stumps. Nay, 
 who shall say but that he is stumped ? " 
 
 The stranger laughed, as if he knew the shrewdness of his 
 joke, and questioned the moon aloud: " What sayest thou, 
 Queen of lunatics ? " 
 
 The fair lady of the night illumined his face, like one who 
 recognised a subject. Evan thought, too, that he knew the 
 voice. A curious, unconscious struggle therein between 
 native facetiousness and an attempt at dignity, appeared to 
 Evan not unfamiliar ; and the egregious failure of ambition 
 and triumph of the instinct, helped him to join the stranger 
 in his mirth. 
 
 " Pardon me," cried the latter, suddenly. " Will you 
 favour me by turning your face to the moon ? " 
 
 Evan smiled at him. 
 
 He was silent for some paces, and then cried in brave 
 simplicity : " Won't you give your fist to a fellow ? " 
 
 It needed but a word or two further for two old schoolmates 
 to discover one another. Evan exclaimed, "Jack Eaikes ! 
 Sir John ! " while he himself was addressed as " Sir Amadis, 
 Viscount Harrington ! " In which, doubtless, they revived 
 certain traits of their earlier days, and with a brisk shaking 
 of hands, and interrogation of countenances, caught up the 
 years that had elapsed since they parted company. 
 
 Mr. John Raikes stood about a head under Evan. He had 
 extremely mobile features ; thick, flexible eyebrows ; a loose, 
 voluble mouth ; a ridiculous figure on a dandified foot. He 
 represented to you one who was rehearsing a part he wished 
 to act before the world, and was not aware that he perpetually 
 took the world into his confidence. 
 
 "Me, then, you remember," said Jack, cordially. "You 
 are doubtful concerning the hat and general habiliments ? I 
 regret to inform you that they are the same." He gave a 
 melo-dramatic sigh. " Yes ; if there is any gratification in 
 outliving one's hat, that gratification should be mine. lu 
 this hat, in this coat, I dined you the day before you 
 voyaged to Lisboa's tide, Changes have since ensued. We
 
 110 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 complain not ; but we do deplore. Fortune on Jack has 
 turned her back ! You might know it, if only by my regard 
 for the nice distinctions of language. The fact is, I've spent 
 my money. A mercurial temperament makes quicksilver of 
 any amount of cash. Mine uncle died ere I had wooed the 
 maiden, Pleasure, and transformed her into the hag. Experi- 
 ence! " 
 
 The hand of Mr. Eaikes fell against his thigh with theatrical 
 impressiveness. 
 
 "But how," said Evan — "it's the oddest thing in the 
 world our meeting like this — how did you come here ? " 
 
 "You thought me cut out for an actor — didn't you?" 
 asked Jack. 
 
 Evan admitted that it was a common opinion at school. 
 
 " It was a horrible delusion, Harrington ! My patrimony 
 gone, naked I sought the stage — as the needle the pole. 
 Alas ! there is no needle to that pole. I was hissed off the 
 boards of a provincial theatre, and thus you see me ! " 
 
 "Why," said Evan, "you don't mean to say you have 
 been running over the downs ever since? " 
 
 Mr. Eaikes punned bitterly. "No, Harrington, not in 
 your sense. Spare me the particulars. Euined, the last 
 ignominy endured, I fled from the gay vistas of the Bench — 
 for they live who would thither lead me ! and determined, 
 the day before the yesterday — what think'st thou ? why to 
 go boldly, and offer myself as Adlatus to blessed old Cudford ! 
 Yes ! a little Latin is all that remains to me, and I resolved, 
 like the man I am, to turn, hie, hcec, hoc, into bread and 
 cheese, and beer. Impute nought foreign to me, in the 
 matter of pride." 
 
 "Usher in our old school — poor old Jack!" exclaimed 
 Evan. 
 
 " Lieutenant in the Cudford Academy ! " the latter re- 
 joined. " I walked the distance from London. I had my 
 interview with the respected principal. He gave me of 
 mutton nearest the bone, which, they say, is sweetest ; and 
 on sweet things you should not regale in excess. Endymiou 
 watched the sheep that bred that mutton ! He gave me the 
 thin beer of our boyhood, that I might the more soberly state
 
 MY GENTLEMAN ON THE EOAD AGAIN. Ill 
 
 my mission. That beer, my friend, was brewed by one who 
 wished to form a study for pantomimic masks. He listened 
 with the gravity which is all his own to the recital of my 
 career ; he pleasantly compared me to Phaethon, congratu- 
 lated the river Thames at my not setting it on fire in my 
 rapid descent, and extended to me the three fingers of afi'ec- 
 tionate farewell. I am the victim of my antecedents ! " 
 
 Mr. Eaikes uttered this with a stage groan, and rapped his 
 breast. 
 
 " So you were compelled to go to old Cudford, and he re- 
 jected you — poor Jack ! " Evan interjected commiseratingly. 
 
 " Because of my antecedents, Harrington. I laid the train 
 in boyhood that blew me up as man. I put the case to him 
 clearly. But what's the use of talking to an old fellow who 
 has been among boys all his life ? All his arguments are 
 propositions. I told him that, as became a manly nature, I, 
 being stripped, preferred to stand up for myself like a bare 
 stick, rather than act the parasite — the female ivy, or the 
 wanton hop ! I joked — he smiled. Those old cocks can't 
 see you're serious through a joke. What do you think ! He 
 reminded me of that night when you and I slipped out to 
 hear about the prize-fight, and were led home from the pot- 
 house in glory. "Well ! I replied to him — ' Had you educated 
 us on beer a little stiffer in quality, sir — ' * Yes, yes,' says 
 he; 'I see you're the same John Raikes whom I once knew.' 
 I answered with a quotation : he corrected my quantity, and 
 quoted again : I capped him. I thought I had him. * Glad,' 
 says he, ' you bear in your head some of the fruits of my 
 teaching.' ' Fruits, sir,' says I, * egad ! they're more like 
 nails than fruits ; I can feel now, sir, on a portion of my 
 person, which is anywhere but the head, your praiseworthy 
 perseverance in knocking them in.' There was gratitude for 
 him, but he would treat the whole affair as a joke. ' You an 
 usher, a rearer of youth, Mr. Raikes ? Oh, no ! Oh no ! ' 
 That was all I could get out of him. 'Gad ! he might have 
 seen that I didn't joke with the mutton-bone. If I winced 
 at the beer it was imperceptible. Now a man who can do 
 that is what I call a man in earnest. But, Cudford avaunt ! 
 Here I am."
 
 112 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 "Yes," said Evan, suppressing a smile. "I want to 
 know how you came here." 
 
 " Short is the tale, though long the way, friend Harrington, 
 From Bodley is ten miles to Beckley. I walked them. 
 From Beckley is fifteen miles to Fallowfield. Them I was 
 traversing, when, lo ! towards sweet eventide a fair horse- 
 woman riding with her groom at her horse's heels. ' Lady, 
 or damsel, or sweet angel,' says 1, addressing her, as much 
 out of the style of the needy as possible, ' will you con- 
 descend to direct me to Fallowfield ? ' ' Are you going to 
 the match '? ' says she. I answered boldly that I was. 
 ' Beckley' s in,' says she, ' and you'll be in time to see them 
 out, if you cut across the downs there.' I lifted my hat — a 
 desperate measure, for the brim won't bear much — but honour 
 to women though we perish. She bowed : I cut across the 
 downs. Ah ! lovely deceiver ! Had I not cut across the 
 downs, to my ruin, once before ? In fine, Harrington, old 
 boy, I've been wandering among those downs for the last 
 seven or eight hours. I was on the point of turning my back 
 on the road for the twentieth time, I believe — when I heard 
 your welcome vehicular music, and hailed you ; and I ask 
 you, isn't it luck for a fellow who hasn't got a penny in his 
 pocket, and is as hungry as five hundred hunters, to drop on 
 an old friend like this ? " 
 
 Evan answered briefly, " Yes." 
 
 Mr. Raikes looked at him pacing with his head bent, and 
 immediately went behind him and came up on the further 
 side. 
 
 ""What's the matter?" said Evan, like one in a dream. 
 
 "I was only trying the other shoulder," remarked his 
 friend. 
 
 Evan pressed his hand. 
 
 " My dear Jack ! pray, forgive me. I have a great deal to 
 think about. Whatever I possess, I'm happy enough to share 
 with you. I needn't tell you that." He paused, and 
 inquired, " "Where was it you said you met the young 
 lady?" 
 
 " In the first place, Amadis ! I never said she was 
 young. You're on the scent, I see."
 
 MY GENTLEMAN" ON THE ROAD AGAIN. 113 
 
 " What was she like ? " said Evan, with forced gentleness. 
 
 " My dear fellow ! there's not the remotest chance of our 
 catching her now. She's a-bed and asleep, if she's not a 
 naughty girl." 
 
 " She went on to Becldey, you said? " 
 
 Jack dealt him a slap. 
 
 " Are you going to the Bar ? " 
 
 "I only wanted to know," Evan observed, meditatively 
 progressing. 
 
 He was sure that the young lady Jack had met was his 
 own Rose, and if Jack thought himself an unlucky fellow, 
 Evan's opinion of him was very different. 
 
 " Did you notice her complexion ? " 
 
 This remark, feebly uttered after a profound stillness, 
 caused Jack to explode. 
 
 " Who called you Amadis, Harrington ? I meet a girl on 
 horseback ; I tell you a word or two she says, and you can't 
 be quiet about her. Why,, she was only passably pretty — 
 talked more like a boy than a girl — opened her mouth wide 
 when she spoke — rather jolly teeth." 
 
 Mr. Eaikes had now said enough to paint Rose accurately 
 to the lover's mind, and bring contempt on his personal 
 judgement. Nursing the fresh image of his darling in his 
 heart's recesses, Evan, as they entered Fallowfield, laid the 
 state of his purse before Jack, and earned anew the epithet of 
 Amadis, when it came to be told that the occupant of the 
 waggon was likewise one of its pensioners. 
 
 Sleep had long held its reign in Eallowtield. Nevertheless, 
 Mr. Raikes, though blind windows alone looked on him, and 
 nought foreign was to be imputed to him in the matter of 
 pride, had become exceedingly solicitous concerning his pre- 
 sentation to the inhabitants of that quiet little country town ; 
 and while Evan and the waggoner consulted — the former 
 with regard to the chances of procuring beds and supper, the 
 latter as to his prospect of beer and a comfortable riddance of 
 the feminine burden weighing on them all — Mr. Raikes was 
 engaged in persuading his hat to assume something of the 
 gentlemanly polish of its youth, and might have been observed 
 now and then furtively catching up a leg to be dusted. Ere 
 
 I
 
 114 EVAN HAREINGTON. 
 
 the wheels of the wagg-on stopped he had gained that ease 
 of mind which the knowledge that you have done all a man 
 may do and circumstances warrant, establishes. Capacities 
 conscious of their limits may repose even proudly when they 
 reach them ; and, if Mr. Raikes had not quite the air of one 
 come out of a bandbox, he at least proved to the discerning 
 intelligence that he knew what sort of manner befitted that 
 happy occasion, and was enabled by the pains he had taken 
 to glance with a cheerful challenge at the sign of the hostelry, 
 under which they were now ranked, and from which, though 
 the hour was late, and Tallowfield a singularly somnolent 
 little town, there issued signs of life approaching to festivity. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 DOINGS AT AN INN. 
 
 What every traveller sighs to find, was palatably fur- 
 nished by the Green Dragon of Fallowfield — a famous inn, 
 and a constellation for wandering coachmen. There pleasant 
 smiles seasoned plenty, and the bill was gilded in a manner 
 unknown to our days. Whoso drank of the ale of the Grreen 
 Dragon kept in his memory a place apart for it. The secret 
 that to give a warm welcome is the breath of life to an inn, 
 was one the Green Dragon boasted, even then, not to share 
 with many Red Lions, or Cocks of the Morning, or Kings' 
 Heads, or other fabulous monsters ; and as if to show that 
 when you are in the right track you are sure to be seconded, 
 there was a friend of the Green Dragon, who, on a particular 
 night of the year, caused its renown to enlarge to the dimen- 
 sions of a miracle. But that, for the moment, is my secret. 
 
 Evan and Jack were met in the passage by a chambermaid. 
 Before either of them could speak, she had turned and fled, 
 with the words : 
 
 " More coming ! " which, with the addition of " My good- 
 ness me ! " were echoed by the hostess in her recess. Hurried 
 
 I
 
 DOINGS AT AN INN. 115 
 
 directions seemed to be consequent, and then the hostess 
 sallied out, and said, with a curtsey : 
 
 " Please to step in, gentlemen. This is the room, to- 
 night." 
 
 Evan lifted his hat; and bowing, requested to know 
 whether they could have a supper and beds. 
 
 " Beds, sir! " cried the hostess. " What am I to do for 
 beds ! Yes, beds indeed you may have, but bed -rooms — if 
 you ask for them, it really is more than I can supply you 
 with. I have given up my own. I sleep with my maid Jane 
 to-night." 
 
 " Anything will do for us, madam," replied Evan, renew- 
 ing his foreign courtesy. " But there is a poor young woman 
 outside." 
 
 "Another!" the hostess instantly smiled down the in- 
 hospitable outcry. 
 
 " She," said Evan, " must have a room to herself. She is 
 
 m." 
 
 " Must is must, sir," returned the gracious hostess. "But 
 I really haven't the means." 
 
 " Toa have bed-rooms, madam ? " 
 
 " Every one of them engaged, sir." 
 
 ^' By ladies, madam ? " 
 
 "Lord forbid, sir 1 " she exclaimed with the honest energy 
 of a woman who knew her sex. 
 
 Evan bade Jack go and assist the waggoner to bring in the 
 girl. Jack, who had been all the time pulling at his wrist- 
 bands, and settling his coat-collar by the dim reflection of a 
 window of the bar, departed, after, on his own authority, 
 assuring the hostess that fever was not the young woman's 
 malady, as she protested against admitting fever into her 
 house, seeing that she had to consider her guests. 
 
 " "We're open to all the world to-night, except fever," said 
 the hostess. " Yes," she rejoined to Evan's order that the 
 waggoner and his mate should be supplied with ale, "they 
 shall have as much as they can drink," which is not a speech 
 usual at inns, when one man gives an order for others, but 
 Evan passed it by, and politely begged to be shown in to one 
 of the gentlemen who had engaged bed-rooms, 
 
 12
 
 116 EVAN HAREINGTON. 
 
 " Oh ! if you can persuade any of them, sir, I'm sure I've 
 nothing to say," observed the hostess. "Pray don't ask me 
 to stand by and back it, that's all." 
 
 Had Evan been familiar with the Green Dragon, he would 
 have noticed that the landlady, its presiding genius, was 
 stifferthan usual; the rosy smile was more constrained, as if 
 a great host had to be embraced, and were trying it to the 
 utmost stretch. There was, however, no asperity about her, 
 and when she had led him to the door he was to enter to 
 prefer his suit, and she had aoked whether the young woman 
 was quite common, and he had replied that he had picked 
 her up on the road, and that she was certainly poor, the 
 hostess said : 
 
 "I'm sure you're a very good gentleman, sir, and if I 
 could spare your asking at all, I would." 
 
 "With that she went back to encounter Mr. Eaikes and his 
 charge, and prime the waggoner and his mate. 
 
 A noise of laughter and talk was stilled gradually, as 
 Evan made his bow into a spacious room, wherein, as the 
 tops of pines are seen swimming on the morning mist, about 
 a couple of dozen guests of divers conditions sat partially re- 
 vealed through wavy clouds of tobacco-smoke. By their 
 postures, which Evan's appearance by no means discon- 
 certed, you read in a glance men who had been at ease for so 
 many hours that they had no troubles in the world save the 
 two ultimate perplexities of the British Sybarite, whose bed 
 of roses is harassed by the pair of problems : first, what to do 
 with his legs ; secondly, how to imbibe liquor with the 
 slightest possible derangement of those members subordinate 
 to his upper structure. Of old the Sybarite complained. 
 N'ot so our self-helpful islanders. Since they could not, now 
 that work was done and jollity the game, take oif their legs 
 (a mechanical contrivance overlooked by Nature, who should 
 have made Britons like the rest of her childi'en in all things, 
 if unable to suit us in all), they got away from them as far 
 as they might, in fashions original or imitative : some by 
 thrusting them out at full length ; some by cramping them 
 under their chairs : while some, taking refuge in a mental 
 effort, forgot them, a process to be recommended if it did not
 
 DOINGS AT AN INN. 117 
 
 involve occasional pangs of consciousness to the legs of their 
 neighbours. We see in our cousins West of the great water, 
 who are said to exaggerate our peculiarities, beings labouring 
 under the same difficulty, and intent on its solution. As to 
 the second problem : that of drinking without discomposure 
 to the subservient limbs : the company present worked out 
 this republican principle ingeniously, but in a manner be- 
 neath the attention of the Muse. Let Clio record that mugs 
 and glasses, tobacco and pipes, were strewn upon the table. 
 But if the guests had arrived at that stage when to reach the 
 arm, or arrange the person, for a sip of good stuff, causes 
 moral debates, and presents to the mind impediments equal 
 to what would be raised in active men by the prospect of a 
 great excursion, it is not to be wondered at that the presence 
 of a stranger produced no immediate commotion. Two or 
 three heads were half turned ; such as faced him impercep- 
 tibly lifted their eyelids. 
 
 " Good evening, sir," said one who sat as chairman, with 
 a decisive nod. 
 
 "Good night, ain't it?" a jolly -looking old fellow queried 
 of the speaker, in an under- voice. 
 
 " 'Gad, you don't expect me to be wishing the gentleman 
 good-bye, do you? " retorted the former. 
 
 "Ha! ha! No, to be sure," answered the old boy; and 
 the remark was variously uttered, that " Good night," by a 
 caprice of our language, did sound like it. 
 
 "Good evening's 'How d'ye do?' — 'How are ye?' 
 Good night's ' Be off, and be bio wed to you,' " observed an 
 interpreter with a positive mind ; and another, whose intel- 
 ligence was not so clear, but whose perceptions had seized 
 the point, exclaimed : "I never says it when I hails a chap; 
 but, dash my buttons, if I mightn't 'a done, one day or 
 another! Queer! " 
 
 The chairman, warmed by his joke, added, with a sharp 
 wink : " Ay ; it would be queer, if you hailed ' Good night ' 
 in the middle of the day ! " and this among a company soaked 
 in ripe ale, could not fail to run the electric circle, and per- 
 suaded several to change their positions ; in the rumble of 
 which, Evan's reply, if he had made any, was lost. Few,
 
 118 EVAN HAKRINGTON. 
 
 however, were there who could think of him, and ponder on 
 that glimpse of fun, at the same time ; and he would have 
 been passed over, had not the chairman said : " Take a seat, 
 sir ; make yourself comfortable." 
 
 "Before I have that pleasure," replied Evan, " I — " 
 
 "/see where 'tis," burst out the old boy who had pre- 
 viously superinduced a diversion : " he's going to ax if he 
 can't have a bed ! " 
 
 A roar of laughter, and "Don't you remember this day 
 last year ? " followed the cunning guess. For awhile expli- 
 cation was impossible ; and Evan coloured, and smiled, and 
 waited for them. 
 
 " I was going to ask — " 
 
 " Said so ! " shouted the old boy, gleefully. 
 
 " — one of the gentlemen who has engaged a bed-room to 
 do me the extreme favour to step aside with me, and allow 
 me a moment's speech with him." 
 
 Long faces were drawn, and odd stares were directed 
 toward him, in reply. 
 
 "/ see where 'tis;" the old boy thumped his knee. 
 " Ain't it now ? Speak up, sir ! There's a lady in the 
 ease ? " 
 
 "I may tell you thus much," answered Evan, " that it is 
 an unfortunate young woman, very ill, who needs rest and 
 quiet." 
 
 " Didn't I say so ? " shouted the old boy. 
 
 But this time, though his jolly red jowl turned all round 
 to demand a confirmation, it was not generally considered 
 that he had divined so correctly. Between a lady and an 
 unfortunate young woman, there seemed to be a strong dis- 
 tinction, in the minds of the compaiiy. 
 
 The chairman was the most affected by the communication. 
 His bushy eyebrows frowned at Evan, and he began tugging 
 at the brass buttons of his coat, like one preparing to arm for 
 a conflict. 
 
 " Speak out, sir, if you please," he said. " Above board 
 — no asides — no taking advantages. You want me to give 
 up my bed-room for the use of your young woman, sir ? " 
 
 Evan replied quietly: "She is a stranger tome; and if
 
 DOINGS AT AN INN. 119 
 
 you could see her, sir, and know her situation, I think she 
 would move your pity." 
 
 " I don't doubt it, sir — I don't doubt it," returned the 
 chairman. " They all move our pity. That's how they get 
 over us. She has diddled you, and she would diddle me, 
 and diddle us all — diddle the devil, I dare say, when her 
 time comes. I don't doubt it, sir." 
 
 To confront a vehement old gentleman, sitting as president 
 in an assembly of satellites, requires some command of coun- 
 tenance, and Evan was not browbeaten : he held him, and 
 the whole room, from where he stood, under a serene and 
 serious eye, for his feelings were too deeply stirred on be- 
 half of the girl to let him think of himself. That question 
 of hers, "What are you going to do with me?" implying 
 such helplessness and trust, was still sharp on his nerves. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said, "I humbly beg your pardon for 
 disturbing you as I do." 
 
 But with a sudden idea that a general address on behalf of 
 a particular demand must necessarily fail, he let his eyes rest 
 on one there, whose face was neither stupid nor repellent, 
 and who, though he did not look up, had an attentive, 
 thoughtful cast about the mouth. 
 
 " May I entreat a word apart with you, sir ? " 
 
 Evan was not mistaken in the index he had perused. The 
 gentleman seemed to feel that he was selected from the com- 
 pany, and slightly raising his head, carelessly replied : " My 
 bed is entii-ely at your disposal," resuming his contemplative 
 pose. 
 
 On the point of thanking him, Evan advanced a step, 
 when up started the irascible chairman. 
 
 "I don't permit it! I won't allow it!" And before 
 Evan could a^k his reasons, he had rung the bell, muttering : 
 " They follow us to our inns, now, the baggages ! They 
 must harry us at our inns ! We can't have peace and quiet 
 at our inns!" 
 
 In a state of combustion, he cried out to the waiter : 
 " Here, Mark, this gentleman has brought in a dirty wrench : 
 pack her up to my bed-room, and lock her in : lock her in, 
 and bring down the key."
 
 120 EVAN HARRINGTOK 
 
 Agreeably deceived in the old gentleman's intentions, E-van 
 could not refrain from joining the murmured hilarity created 
 by the conclusion of his order. The latter glared at him, 
 and added : "Now, sir, you've done your worst. Sit down, 
 and be merry." 
 
 Replying that he had a friend outside, and would not fail 
 to accept the invitation, Evan retired. He was met by the 
 hostess with the reproachful declaration on her lips, that she 
 was a widow woman, wise in appearances, and that he had 
 brought into her house that night work she did not expect, 
 or bargain for. Eather (since I must speak truth of my 
 gentleman) to silence her on the subject, and save his ears, 
 than to propitiate her favour towards the girl, Evan drew out 
 his constitutionally lean purse, and dropped it in her hand, 
 praying her to put every expense incurred to his charge. 
 She exclaimed : "If Dr. Pillie has his full sleep this night, 
 I shall be astonished ; " and Evan hastily led Jack into the 
 passage to impart to him, that the extent of his resources 
 was reduced to three shillings and a few pence. Jack made 
 a wry face, but regained his equanimity, saying : " Well, we 
 can't be knights of chivalry and aldermen too. The thing 
 was never known. Let me see. I've almost forgotten how 
 to reckon. Beds a shilling a piece — the rest for provender. 
 To-morrow we die. That's a consolation to the stumped ! 
 Come along, Hamngton ; let us look like men who have had 
 pounds in their pockets ! " 
 
 Mr. Raikes assumed the braver features of this representa- 
 tion, and marched into the room without taking off his hat, 
 which was a part of his confidence in company. He took 
 his seat at a small table, and began to whistle. His de- 
 meanour signified : " I am equal to any of you." His 
 thoughts were : " How shall I prove it upon three shil- 
 lings ? " 
 
 " I see you're in mourning as well as myself. Jack," said 
 Evan, calling attention to his hat. 
 
 Mr. Raikes did not displace it, as he replied, " Yes," with 
 the pre-occupied air of a man who would be weeping the 
 past had he not to study the present. 
 
 Eyes were on him, he could feel. It appeared to him
 
 DOINGS AT AN INN. 121 
 
 that the company awaited his proceedings ; why they should, 
 he did not consider ; but the sense of it led him to stalk 
 with affected gravity to the bell, which he rang consequen- 
 tially ; and, telling Evan to leave the ordering to him, sat 
 erect, and scanned the measure and quality of the stuff in 
 the glasses. 
 
 " Mind you never mention about my applying to old 
 Cudford," he whispered to Evan, hurriedly. " Shouldn't 
 like it known, you know — one's family ! — Here, waiter ! " 
 
 Mark, the waiter, scudded past, and stopped before the 
 chairman to say: " If you please, sir, the gentlemen up-stairs 
 send their compliments, and will be happy to accept." 
 
 "Ha!" was the answer. '* Thought better of it, have 
 they! Lay for three more, then. Pretty nearly ready?" 
 
 " It will be another twenty minutes, sir." 
 
 " Oh, attend to that gentleman, then." 
 
 Mark presented himself to the service of Mr. Raikes. 
 
 " R-r-r-r — a — " commenced Jack, "what have you got — 
 a — that you can give a gentleman for supper, waiter ? " 
 
 "Receive the gentleman's orders!" shouted the chairman 
 to a mute interrogation from Mark, who capitulated sponta- 
 neously : 
 
 " Cold veal, cold beef, cold duck, cold — " 
 
 "Stop!" cried Mr. Raikes, "It's Summer, I know; but 
 cold, cold, cold ! — really ! And cold duck ! Cold duck and 
 old peas, I suppose ! I don't want to come the epicure 
 exactly, in the country. One must take what one can get, 
 I know that. But some nice little bit to captivate the 
 appetite?" 
 
 Mark suggested a rarebit. 
 
 Mr. Raikes shook his head with melancholy. 
 
 " Cun you let us have some Maintenon cutlets, waiter? — 
 or Soubise ? — I ask for some dressing, that's all — something 
 to make a man eat." He repeated to Evan: "Maintenon? 
 Soubise ? " whispering : "Anything will do ! " 
 
 " I think you had better order bread and cheese," said 
 Evan, meaningly, in the same tone. 
 
 "You think, on the whole, you prefer Soubise?" cried 
 Jack. "VeryweU. Rut can we have it ? These out-of- the-
 
 122 EVAN HAERINGTOK 
 
 way places — we must be modest! Now, I'll wager jou 
 don't know how to make an omelette here, waiter? Plain 
 English cookery, of course ! " 
 
 " Our cook has made 'em, sir," said Mark. 
 
 " Oh, that's quite enough!" returned Jack. Oh, dear me! 
 Has made an omelette ! That doesn't by any means sound 
 cheerful." 
 
 Jack was successful in the effect he intended to produce on 
 the company. The greater number of the sons of Britain 
 present gazed at him with the respectful antagonism peculiar 
 to them when they hear foreign words, the familiarity with 
 which appears to imply wealth and distinction. 
 
 " Chippolata pudding, of course, is out of the question," 
 he resumed. " Fish one can't ask for. Vain were the call ! 
 A composition of eggs, flour, and butter we dare not trust. 
 What are we to do ? " 
 
 Before Evan could again recommend bread and cheese, the 
 chairman had asked Mr. Raikes whether he really liked cutlets 
 for supper ; and, upon Jack replying that they were a 
 favourite dish, sung out to Mark: "Cutlets for two ! " and 
 in an instant Mark had left the room, and the friends found 
 themselves staring at one another. 
 
 "There's three shillings at a blow!" hissed Jack, now 
 taking off his hat, as if to free his distressed mind. 
 
 Evan, red in the face, reproached him for his folly. Jack 
 comforted him with the assurance that they were in for it, 
 and might as well comport themselves with dignity till the 
 time for payment. 
 
 "I shall do nothing of the sort," said Evan, getting up to 
 summon Mark afresh. " I shall sup on bread and cheese." 
 
 "My lord! my lord!" cried Jack, laying hold of his 
 arm, and appearing to forget some private necessity for an 
 incognito. 
 
 "Well," he added, as the bell rang, "perhaps at this late 
 hour we ought to consider the house. We should bear in 
 mind that a cook, however divine in bounties, is mortal, like 
 the rest of us. We are not at Trianon. I'm not the Abbe 
 Dubois, nor you the Due d' Orleans. Since they won't let us 
 cook for ourselves, which I hold that all born gentlemen are
 
 DOINGS AT AN INN. 123 
 
 bound to be able to do, we'll e'en content ourselve? with 
 modest fare." 
 
 "My good Jack," said Evan, less discreetly than it pleased 
 his friend to hear, " haven't you done playing at 'lords' yet? 
 It was fun when we were boys at school. But, let me tell 
 you, you don't look a bit like a lord." 
 
 "I'm the son of a gentleman," returned Jack, angrily. 
 
 " I'm sorry you find yourself compelled to tell everybody 
 of it," said Evan, touched by a nettle. 
 
 "But what's the use of singing small before these fellows?" 
 Jack inquired. 
 
 The chairman was doubled in his seat with laughter. 
 Among a portion of the guests there had been a return to 
 common talk, and one had observed that he could not get that 
 "Good Evening," and "Good Night," out of his head: 
 which had caused a friend to explain the meaning of these 
 terms of salutation to him : while another, of a philosophic 
 turn, pursued the theme : " Ye see, when we meets, we 
 makes a night of it. So, when we parts, it's Good Night 
 — natural! ain't it?" A proposition assented to, and con- 
 siderably dilated on ; but whether he was laughing at that, 
 or what had aroused the fit, the chairman did not say. Evan 
 countermanded the cutlets, and substituted an order for bread 
 and cheese. Jack adding, with the nod of a patron to the 
 waiter : 
 
 "We think — since it's late — we won't give you the trouble 
 to-night. "We'll try the effect of bread and cheese for once 
 in a way. Nothing like new sensations ! " 
 
 At this the chairman fell right forward, grasping the arms 
 of his chair, and shouting. 
 
 Jack unconsciously put on his hat, for when you have not 
 the key to current laughter — and especially when you are 
 acting apart, and acting it, as you think, with admirable truth 
 to nature — it has a hostile sound, and suggests devilries. 
 
 The lighter music of mirth had succeeded the chairman's 
 big bursts, by the time the bread and cheese appeared. 
 
 In the rear of the provision came three young gentlemen, 
 of whom the foremost lumped in, singing to one behind him, 
 — " And you shall have little Eosey ! "
 
 124 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 They were clad in crickotins: costume, and exhibited the 
 health and manners of youthful Englishmen of station. Frolic - 
 some young bulls bursting on an assemblage of sheep, they 
 might be compared to. The chairman welcomed them a trifle 
 snubbingly. The colour mounted to the cheeks of Mr. Eaikes 
 as he made incision in the cheese, under their eyes, knitting 
 his brows fearfully, as if at hard work. 
 
 " What a place ! " he muttered. "Nothing but bread and 
 cheese ! Well ! We must make the best of it. Content 
 ourselves with beer, too ! A drink corrupted into a likeness 
 of wine ! Due to our Teutonic ancestry, no doubt. Let 
 fancj^ beguile us!" And Mr. Eaikes, with a grand air of 
 good-nature, and the lofty mind that makes the best of 
 difficulties, offered Evan a morsel of cheese, saying: "We 
 dispense with souj). We commence with the entrees. May 
 I press a patty upon you." 
 
 " Thank you," said Evan, smiling, and holding out his 
 plate. 
 
 "Yes, yes; I understand you," continued Mr. Eaikes. 
 " We eat, and eke we swear. We'll be avenged for this. 
 In the interim let sweet fancy beguile us ! " 
 
 Before helping himself, a thought appeared to strike him. 
 He got up hastily, and summoned Mark afresh. 
 
 "E-r-r-r — a — what are the wines here, waiter?" he 
 demanded to knovv. 
 
 It was a final effort at dignity and rejection of the status 
 to which, as he presumed, the sight of a gentleman, or the 
 son of one, pasturing on plain cheese, degraded him. It was 
 also Jack's way of repelling the tone of insolent superiority 
 in the bearing of the three young cricketers. 
 
 " What are the wines in this establishment?" he repeated 
 peremptorily, for Mark stood smoothing his mouth, as if he 
 would have enjoyed the liberty of a grin. 
 
 " Port, — sir,— Sherry." 
 
 "Ah — the old story," returned Mr. Eaikes. "Dear! 
 dear ! dear ! " 
 
 "Perhaps, sir,'' insinuated Mark, "you mean foreign 
 wines ? " 
 
 " None of youi' infamous home-concoctions, waiter. Port!
 
 DOINGS AT AN INN. 125 
 
 I believe there's no Port in the country, except in half-a- 
 dozen private cellars — of which I know three. I do mean 
 foreign wines." 
 
 Now Mark had served in a good family, and in a London 
 hotel. He cleared his throat, and mutely begging the atten- 
 tion of the chairman, thus volubly started : "Foreign wines, 
 sir, yes ! Rhine wines ; we have Rudesham ; we have Ma- 
 regbrun ; we have Steenbug — Joehannisbug — Libefromil — 
 Asmyhaus, and several others. Claret I — we have Lafitte ; 
 we have Margaw ; we have Rose ; — Titte — Margaw — Rose — 
 Julia — Bodo. At your disposal, sir." 
 
 Jack, with a fiery face, blinked wildly under the torrent of 
 vintages. 
 
 Evan answered his plaintive look. " /shall drink ale." 
 
 "Then I suppose I must do the same," said Jack, with a 
 miserable sense of defeat and provoked humiliation. " Thank 
 you, waiter, it goes better with cheese. A pint of ale." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Mark, scorning to stop and enjoy his victory. 
 
 Heaving a sad " Heigho I " and not daring to glance at the 
 buzzing company, Mr. Raikes cut a huge bit of crust oif the 
 loaf, and was preparing to encounter it. The melancholy 
 voracity in his aspect was changed in a minute to surprise, 
 for the chairman had started out of a fit of compressed merri- 
 ment to arrest his hand. 
 
 " Let me ofier you vengeance on the spot, sir." 
 
 " How ? " cried Jack, angrily ; " enigmas ? " 
 
 The chairman entreated Evan to desist from the cheese; 
 and, pulling out his watch, thundered : " Time ! " 
 
 The company generally jumped on their legs ; and, in the 
 midst of a hum of talk and laughter, the chairman informed 
 Evan and Jack, that he invited them cordially to a supper up- 
 stairs, and would be pleased if they would partake of it, and 
 in a great rage if they would not. 
 
 "Sir," said Jack, by this time quite recovered, "the 
 alternative decides me. The alternative is one I should so 
 deeply grieve to witness, that, in short, I — a — give in my 
 personal adhesion, with thanks." 
 
 "You are not accustomed to this poor fare, sir," remarked 
 the chairman.
 
 126 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 " You have aptly divined the fact, sir," said Jack ; " nor 
 I, nor this, my friend. The truth is, that where cometh 
 cheese, and nothing precedeth it, there is, to the cultivated 
 intelligence, the sense of the hiatus which may promote 
 digestion, but totally at the expense of satisfaction. Man, 
 hy such means, is sunk below the level of the ruminating 
 animal. He cheweth — " 
 
 The stentorian announcement of supper interrupted Mr. 
 Raikes ; and the latter gentleman, to whom glibness stood for 
 greatness of manner, very well content with the effect he 
 conceived he had produced on the company, set about per- 
 suading Evan to join the feast. For several reasons, Evan 
 would have preferred to avoid it. He was wretched, inclined 
 to enjoy a fit of youthful misanthropy; Jack's dramalic 
 impersonation of the lord had disgusted him ; and bread and 
 cheese symboUed his condition. The chairman, catching 
 indications of reluctance, stooped forward, and said : " Sir ! 
 must I put it as a positive favour ? " 
 
 " Pray do not," replied Evan, and relinquished the table 
 with a bow. 
 
 The door was open, and the company of jolly yeomen, 
 tradesmen, farmers, and the like, had become intent on 
 observing all the ceremonies of precedence : not one would 
 broaden his back on the other ; and there was bowing, and 
 scraping, and grimacing, till Parmer Broadmead was hailed 
 aloud, and the old boy stepped forth, and was summarily 
 pushed through : the chairman calling from the rear, 
 "Hulloa! no names to-night!" to which was answered 
 lustily: "AH right, Mr. Tom!" and the speaker was 
 reproved with, " There you go ! at it again ! " and out and 
 up they hustled. 
 
 The chairman said quietly to Evan, as they were ascending 
 the stairs: "We don't have names to-night; may as well 
 drop titles." Which presented no peciiliar meaning to Evan's 
 mind, and he smiled the usual smile. 
 
 To Jack, at the door of the supper-room, the chairman 
 repeated the same; and Jack, with extreme affability and 
 alacrity of abnegation, rejoined, " Oh, certainly ! " 
 
 No wonder that he rubbed his hands with more delight
 
 ALE HAS ONE QUALITY OF WINE. 127 
 
 than aristocrats and people with gentlemanly connections are 
 in the habit of betraying at the prospect of refection, for the 
 release from bread and cheese was rendered overpoweringly 
 glorious, in his eyes, by the bountiful contrast exhibited on 
 the board before him. 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 IN WHICH AXE IS SHOWN TO HATE ONE QIJALITT OF WINE. 
 
 To proclaim that yon ribs of beef, and yonder ruddy 
 Britons hare met, is to furnish matter for an hour's comfort- 
 able meditation. 
 
 Digest the fact. Here the Fates have put their seal to 
 something Ifature clearly devised. It was intended ; and it 
 has come to pass. A thing has come to pass which we feel 
 to be right! The machinery of the world, then, is not 
 entirely dislocated : there is harmony, on one point, among 
 the mysterious powers who have to do with us. Discordant 
 as the individual may have become, the condition of the uni- 
 verse is vindicated by this great meeting of beef and Britons. 
 We have here a basis. I cherish a belief that, at some future 
 day, the speculative Teuton and experimental Gaul wiU make 
 pilgrimages to this island solely to view this sight, and 
 gather strength from it. 
 
 Apart from its eloquent and consoling philosophy, the 
 picture is pleasant. You see two rows of shoulders reso- 
 lutely set for action : heads in divers degrees of proximity to 
 their plates : eyes variously twinkling, or hypocritically com- 
 posed : chaps in vigorous exercise. Now leans a fellow right 
 back vdth his whole face to the firmament : Ale is his adora- 
 tion. He sighs not till he sees the end of the mug. Now 
 from one a laugh is sprung ; but, as if too early tapped, he 
 turns off the cock, and serenely primes himself anew. Occu- 
 pied by their own requirements, these Britons allow that 
 their neighbours have rights : no cursing at waste of time is
 
 128 EVAN HARRrnGTON". 
 
 heard when plates have to be passed : disagreeable, it is still 
 duty. Field-Marshal Duty, the Briton's star, shines here. 
 If one usurps more than his allowance of elbow-room, bring 
 your charge against them that fashioned him : work away to 
 arrive at some compass yourself. 
 
 Now the mustard has ceased to travel, and the salt : the 
 guests have leisure to contemplate their achievements. 
 Laughs are more prolonged, and come from the depths. 
 
 Now Ale, which is to Beef what Eve was to Adam, 
 threatens to take possession of the field. Happy they who, 
 following Nature's direction, admitted not bright ale into 
 their Paradise till their manhood was strengthened with beef. 
 Some, impatient, had thirsted ; had satisfied their thirst ; 
 and the ale, the light though lovely spirit, with nothing to 
 hold it down, had mounted to their heads ; just as Eve will 
 do when Adam is not mature : just as she did — Alas ! 
 Gratitude forbid that I should say a word against good ale ! 
 I am disinclined to say a word in disfavour of Eve. Both 
 Ale and Eve seem to speak imperiously to the soul of man. 
 See that they be good, see that they come in season, and 
 we bow to the consequences. 
 
 Now, theruinsof thefeastbeingremoved, an da clear course 
 left for the flow of ale, farmer Broadmead, facing the chair- 
 man, rises. He stands in an attitude of midway. He speaks: 
 
 " Gentlemen ! 'Taint fust time you and I be met here, to 
 salbrate this here occasion. I say, not fust time, not by many 
 a time, 'taint. Well, gentlemen, I ain't much of a speaker, 
 gentlemen, as i/ou know. Howsever, here I be. No denyin' 
 that. I'm on my legs. This here's a strange enough world, 
 and a man as 's a gentlemen, I say, we ought for to be glad 
 when we got 'm. You know : I'm coming to it shortly. I 
 ain't much of a speaker, and if you wants somethiu' new, 
 you must ax elsewhere : but what I say is — dang it ! here's 
 good health and long life to Mr. Tom, up there ! " 
 
 "No names!" shouts the chairman, in the midst of a 
 tremendous clatter. 
 
 Farmer Broadmead moderately disengages his breadth 
 fi'om the seat. He humbly axes pardon, which is accorded.
 
 ALE HAS ONE QUALITY OF WINE. 129 
 
 Ale (to Beef what Eve was to Adam) circulates beneath a 
 dazzling foam, fair as the first woman. 
 
 Mr. Tom (for the breach of the rules in mentioning whose 
 name on a night when identities thereon dependent are 
 merged, we offer sincere apologies every other minute), Mr. 
 Tom is toasted. His parents, who selected that day sixty 
 years ago, for his bow to be made to the world, are alluded to 
 with encomiums, and float down to posterity on floods of 
 liquid amber. 
 
 But to see all the subtle merits that now begin to bud out 
 from Mr. Tom, the chairman and giver of the feast ; and also 
 rightly to appreciate the speeches, we requii-e to be enor- 
 mously charged with Ale. Mr. John Eaikes did his best to 
 keep his head above the surface of the rapid flood. He con- 
 ceived the chairman in brilliant colours, and probably owing 
 to the energy called for by his brain, the legs of the young 
 man failed him twice, as he tried them. Attention was 
 demanded. Mr. John Eaikes addressed the meeting. 
 
 The three young gentlemen-cricketers had hitherto behaved 
 with a certain propriety. It did not offend Mr. Eaikes to see 
 them conduct themselves as if they were at a play, and the 
 rest of the company paid actors. He had likewise taken a 
 position, and had been the first to laugh aloud at a particular 
 slip of grammar ; while his shrugs at the aspirates transposed 
 and the pronunciation prevalent, had almost established a 
 free-masonry between him and one of the three young gentle- 
 men-cricketers — a fair haired youth, with a handsome, reck- 
 less face, who leaned on the table, humorously eyeing the 
 several speakers, and exchanging by-words and laughs with 
 his friends on each side of him. 
 
 But Mr. Eaikes had the disadvantage of having come to 
 the table empty in stomach — thirsty exceedingly ; and, I 
 repeat, that as, without experience, you are the victim of 
 divinely-given Eve, so, with no foundation to receive it upon, 
 are you the victim of good sound Ale. Mr. Eaikes very soon 
 lost his head. He would otherwise have seen that he must 
 produce a wonderfully-telling speech if he was to keep the 
 position he had taken, and had better not attempt one. The 
 three young cricketers were hostQe from the beginning. AH
 
 130 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 of them leant forward, calling attention loudly, humming a 
 roll of Rhine wines, laughing for the fun to come. 
 
 " Gentlemen ! " he said : and said it twice. The gap was 
 wide, and he said, " Gentlemen ! " again. 
 
 This commencement of a speech proves that you have made 
 the plunge, but not that you can swim. At a repetition of 
 " Gentlemen ! " expectancy resolved into cynicism. 
 
 " Gie'n a help," sung out a son of the plough to a neigh- 
 bour of the orator. 
 
 " Dang it ! " murmured another, "we ain't such gentlemen 
 as that comes to." 
 
 Mr. Raikes was politely requested to " tune his pipe." 
 
 With a gloomy curiosity as to the results of Jack's adven- 
 turous undertaking, and a touch of anger at the three whose 
 bearing throughout had displeased him, Evan regarded his 
 friend. He, too, had drunk, and upon emptiness. Bright 
 ale had mounted to his brain. A hero should be held as 
 sacred as the Grand Llama : so let no more be said than that 
 he drank still, nor marked the replenishing of his glass. 
 
 Jack cleared his throat for a final assault : he had got an 
 image, and was dashing off ; but, unhappily, as if to make 
 the start seem fair, he was guilty of the reiteration of 
 "Gentlemen." 
 
 Everybody knew that it was a real start this time, and 
 indeed he had made an advance, and had run straight through 
 half a sentence. It was therefore manifestly unfair, inimical, 
 contemptuous, overbearing, and base, for one of the three 
 young cricketers at this period to fling back weariedly and 
 exclaim : " By the Lord ; too many gentlemen here ! " 
 
 Evan heard him across the table. Lacking the key of the 
 speaker's previous conduct, the words might have passed. As 
 it was, they, to the ale-invaded head of a young hero, feeling 
 himself the world's equal, and condemned nevertheless to 
 bear through life the insignia of Tailordom, not unnaturally 
 struck with peculiar offence. There was arrogance, too, in 
 the young man who had interposed. He was long in the 
 body, and, when he was not refreshing his sight by a careless 
 contemplation of his finger-nails, looked down on his company 
 at table, as one may do who comes from loftier studies. He
 
 AJLE HAS ONE QUALITY OF WINE. 131 
 
 had what is popularly known as the nose of our aristocracy : 
 a nose that much culture of the external graces, and affecta- 
 tion of suavity, are required to soften. Thereto were joined 
 thin lips and arched brows. Birth it was possible he could 
 boast : hardly brains. He sat to the right of the fair-haired 
 youth, who, with his remaining comrade, a quiet smiling 
 fellow, appeared to be better liked by the guests, and had 
 been hailed once or twice, under correction of the chairman, 
 as Mr. Harry, The three had distinguished one there by a 
 few friendly passages ; and this was he who had offered his 
 bed to Evan for the service of the girl. The recognition they 
 extended to him did not affect him deeply. He was called 
 Drummond, and had his place near the chairman, whose 
 humours he seemed to relish. 
 
 Now the ears of Mr. Raikes were less keen at the moment 
 than Evan's, but his openness to ridicule was that of a man 
 on his legs solus, amid a company sitting, and his sense of 
 the same — when he saw himself the victim of it — acute. 
 His face was rather comic, and, under the shadow of em- 
 barrassment, twitching and working for ideas — might excuse 
 a want of steadiness and absolute gravity in the countenances 
 of others. 
 
 "Gentlemen," this inveterate harper resumed. 
 
 It was too much. Numerous shoulders fell against the 
 backs of chah's, and the terrible rattle of low laughter com- 
 menced. Before it could burst overwhelmingly. Jack, with 
 a dramatic visage, leaned over his glass, and looking, as he 
 spoke, from man to man, asked emphatically : "Is there any 
 person present whose conscience revolts against being in- 
 volved in that denomination ? " 
 
 The impertinence was at least a saving sign of wits awake. 
 So the chairman led'off, in reply to Jack, with an encourag- 
 ing " Bravo ! " and immediately there ensued an agricultural 
 chorus of "Brayvos ! " 
 
 Jack's readiness had thus rescued him in extremity. 
 
 He nodded and went ahead cheerily. 
 
 " I should be sorry to think so. When I said ' Gentle- 
 men,' I included aU. If the conscience of one should impeach 
 him, or me — " Jack eyed the lordly contemplator of his 
 
 K 2
 
 132 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 nails, on a pause, adding, "It is not so. I rejoice. I was 
 about to observe, then, that, a stranger, I entered this hos- 
 pitable establishment — I and my friend — " 
 
 "The gentleman!" their now recognised antagonist in- 
 terposed, and turned his head to one of his comrades, and 
 kept it turned — a proceeding similar in tactics to striking 
 and running away. 
 
 " I thank my honourable — a — um ! I thank the — a — 
 whatever he may be!" continued Jack. "I accept his 
 suggestion. My friend, the gentleman ! — the real gentle- 
 man I — the true gentleman ! — the undoubted gentleman ! " 
 
 Further iterations, if not amplifications, of the merits of 
 the gentleman would have followed, had not Evan, strong in 
 his modesty, pulled Jack into his seat, and admonished him 
 to be content with the present measure of his folly. 
 
 But Jack had more in him. He rose, and flourished off: 
 " A stranger, I think I said. What I have done to deserve 
 to feel like an alderman I can't say; but — " (Jack, falling 
 into perfect good humour and sincerity, was about to confess 
 the cordial delight his supper had given him, when his eyes 
 met those of his antagonist superciliously set) : " but," he 
 resumed, rather to the perplexity of his hearers, " this sort 
 of heavy fare of course accounts for it, if one is not accus- 
 tomed to it, and gives one, as it were, the civic crown, which 
 I apprehend to imply a surcharged stomach — in the earlier 
 stages of the entertainment. I have been at feasts, I have 
 even given them — yes, gentlemen — " (Jack slid suddenly 
 down the slopes of anti-climax), " you must not judge by 
 the hat, as I see one or two here do me the favour to do. By ' 
 the bye," he added, glancing hurriedly about, " where did I 
 clap it down when I came in ? '' 
 
 His antagonist gave a kick under the table, saying, with a 
 sneer, " What's this ?" 
 
 Mr. Raikes dived below, and held up the battered decora- 
 tion of his head. He retui'ned thanks with studious polite- 
 ness, the more so as he had forgotten the context of his 
 speech, and the exact state of mind he was in when he broke 
 from it. " Gentlemen ! " again afflicted the ears of the 
 company.
 
 ALE HAS ONE QUALITY OF WINE. 133 
 
 " Oh, by Jove ! more gentlemen ! " cried Jack's enemy. 
 
 "No anxiety, I beg!" Jack rejoined, always brought 
 to his senses when pricked: "I did not include you, 
 sir." 
 
 " Am I in you way, sir ? " asked the other, hardening his 
 under lip. 
 
 "Well, I did find it difiicult, when I was a boy, to 
 cross the Ass's Bridge ! " retorted Jack — and there was 
 laughter. 
 
 The chairman's neighbour, Drummond, whispered him : 
 "Laxley will get up a row with that fellow." 
 
 " It's young Jocelyn egging him on," said the chairman. 
 
 "Um!" added Drummond: "it's the friend of that 
 talkative rascal that's dangerous, if it comes to anything." 
 
 Mr. Raikes perceived that his host desired him to conclude. 
 So, lifting his voice and swinging his arm, he ended : 
 "Allow me to propose to you the Fly in Amber. In other 
 words, our excellent host embalmed in briUiant ale ! Drink 
 him ! and so let him live in our memories for ever ! " 
 
 Mr. Raikes sat down very well contented with himself, 
 very little comprehended, and applauded loudly. 
 
 "The Flyin' Number!" echoed Farmer Broadmead, con- 
 fidently and with clamour ; adding to a friend, when both 
 had drunk the toast to the dregs, " But what number that 
 be, or how many 'tis of 'em, dishes me ! But that's ne'ther 
 here nor there." 
 
 The chairman and host of the evening stood up to reply, 
 welcomed by thunders — "There ye be, Mr. Tom! glad I 
 lives to see ye ! " and "No names!" and "Long life to 
 him ! " 
 
 This having subsided, the chairman spoke, first nodding. 
 
 "You don't want many words, and if you do, you won't 
 get 'em from me." 
 
 Cries of "Got something better!" took up the blunt 
 address. 
 
 " You've been true to it, most of you. I like men not to 
 forget a custom." 
 
 "Good reason so to be," and "A jolly good custom," re- 
 plied to both sentences.
 
 134 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 ' As to the beef, I hope you didn't find it tough : as to the 
 ale — I know all about that!^' 
 
 " Aha ! good ! " rang the verdict. 
 
 " All I can say is, that this day next year it will be on the 
 table, and I hope that every one of you will meet Tom — will 
 meet me here punctually. I'm not a Parliament man, so 
 that'll do—" 
 
 The chairman's breach of his own rules drowned the ter- 
 mination of his speech in an uproar. 
 
 Re-seating himself, he lifted his glass, and proposed : 
 "The Antediluvians!" 
 
 Farmer Broadmead echoed: *' The Anted^loovians !" ap- 
 pending, as a private sentiment, "And dam rum chaps they 
 were ! " 
 
 The Antediluvians, undoubtedly the toast of the evening, 
 were enthusiastically drunk, and in an ale of treble brew. 
 
 "When they had quite gone down, Mr. Raikes ventured to 
 ask for the reason of their receiving such honour from a 
 posterity they had so little to do with. He put the 
 question mildly, but was impetuously snapped at by the 
 chairman. 
 
 " You respect men for their luck, sir, don't you ? Don't 
 be a hypocrite, and say you don't — you do. Very well: 
 60 do I. That's why I drink ' The Antediluvians ! ' " 
 
 "Our woi-thy host here" (Drummond, gravely smiling, 
 undertook to elucidate the case) "has a theory that the 
 constitutions of the Postdiluvians have been deranged, and 
 their lives shortened, by the miasmas of the Deluge. I be- 
 lieve he carries it so far as to say that !N'oah, in the light 
 of a progenitor, is inferior to Adam, owing to the shaking 
 he had to endure in the ark, and which he conceives to 
 have damaged the patriarch and the nervous systems of his 
 sons. It's a theory, you know." 
 
 "They lived close on a thousand years, hale, hearty — and 
 no water ! " said the chairman. 
 
 " Well ! " exclaimed one, some way down the table, a 
 young farmer, red as a cock's comb: "no fools they, eh, 
 master? Where there's ale, would you drink water, my 
 hearty?" and back he leaned to enjoy the tribute to hia
 
 ALE HAS ONE QUALITY OF WINE. 135 
 
 wit ; a wit not remarkable, but nevertheless sufficient in the 
 noise it created to excite the envy of Mr. John Kaikes, who, 
 inveterately silly when not engaged in a contest, now began 
 to play on the names of the sons of Noah. 
 
 The chairman lanced a keen light at him from beneath 
 his bushy eyebrows. 
 
 "Ought to have excused this humble stuif to you, sir," 
 he remarked. "It's the custom. We drink ale to-night: 
 any other night happy to offer you your choice, sir — Joe- 
 hannisberg, Rudesheim, Steenberg, Libefreemilk, Asmanns- 
 hauser, Lafitte, La Rose, Margaux, Bordeaux : Clarets, 
 Rhine wines. Burgundies — drinks that men of your station 
 are more used to." 
 
 Mr. Raikes stammered: "Thank you, thank you; ale 
 will do, sir — an excellent ale ! " 
 
 But before long the chairman had again to call two parties 
 to order. Mr. Raikes was engaged in a direct controversy 
 with his enemy. In that young gentleman he had recog- 
 nised one of a station above his own — even what it was in 
 the palmy days of bank-notes and naughty suppers ; and he 
 did not intend to allow it. On the other hand, Laxley had 
 begun to look at him very distantly over the lordly bridge of 
 his nose. To Mr. Raikes, Laxley was a puppy : to Laxley, 
 Mr. Raikes was a snob. The antagonism, therefore, was 
 natural : ale did but put the match to the magazine. But 
 previous to an explosion, Laxley, who had observed Evan's 
 disgust at Jack's exhibition of himself, and had been led to 
 think, by his conduct and clothes in conjunction, that Evan 
 was his own equal ; a gentleman condescending to the society 
 of a low-born acquaintance; had sought with sundry pro- 
 pitiations — calm, intelligent glances, light shrugs, and such 
 like — to divide Evan from Jack. He did this, doubtless, 
 because he partly sympathized with Evan, and to assure him 
 that he took a separate view of him. Probably Evan was 
 already offended, or he held to Jack, as a comrade should, 
 or else it was that Tailordom bellowed in his ears, every 
 fresh minute : " Nothing assume ! " I incline to think that 
 the more ale he drank the fiercer rebel he grew against con- 
 ventional ideas of rank, and those class-barriers which we
 
 136 ■ EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 scorn so vehemently when we find ourselves kicking at them. 
 Whatsoever the reason that prompted him, he did not respond 
 to Laxley's advances ; and Laxley, deferentially disregarding 
 him, dealt with Jack alone. 
 
 In a tone plainly directed at Mr. Kaikes, he said : " "Well, 
 Harry, tired of this ? The agriculturals are good fun, but I 
 can't stand much of the small cockney. A blackguard who 
 tries to make jokes out of the Scriptures ought to be kicked!" 
 
 Harry rejoined, with wet lips : " Wopping stuff, this ale ! 
 "Who's that you want to kick ? " 
 
 "Somebody who objects to his bray, I suppose," Mr. 
 Eaikes struck in, across the table, negligently thrusting out 
 his elbow to support his head. 
 
 " Did you allude to me, sir ? " Laxley inquired. 
 
 " I alluded to a donkey, sir." Jack lifted his eyelids to 
 the same level as Laxley's : "a passing remark on that in- 
 teresting animal." 
 
 Laxley said nothing ; but the interjection "blackguard!" 
 was perceptible on his mouth. 
 
 " Did you allude to me, sir ? " Jack inquired in his turn. 
 
 " Would you like me to express what 1 think of a fellow 
 who listens to private conversations ? " was the answer. 
 
 "I should be happy to task your eloquence even to that 
 extent, if I might indulge a hope for grammatical results," 
 said Jack. 
 
 Laxley thought fit to retire upon his silent superiority. 
 His friend Harry now came into the ring to try a fall. 
 
 "Are you an usher in a school?" he asked, meaning by 
 his looks what men of science in fisticuffs call business. 
 
 Mr. Raikes started up in amazement. He recovered as 
 quickly. 
 
 " No, sir, not quite; but I have no doubt I should be able 
 to instruct you upon a point or two." 
 
 " Good manners, for instance? " remarked the third young 
 cricketer, without disturbing his habitual smile. 
 
 " Or what comes from not observing them," said Evan, 
 unwilling to have Jack over-matched. 
 
 " Perhaps you'll give me a lesson now ? " Harry indicated 
 a readiness to rise for either of them.
 
 ALE HAS ONE QUALITY OF WINE. 137 
 
 At this juncture the chairman interposed. 
 
 " Harmony, my lads ! — harmony to-night." 
 
 Parmer Broadmead, imagining it to be the signal for a 
 Bong, returned : 
 
 " All right, Mr. ■ Mr. Chair ! but we an't got pipes in 
 
 yet. Pipes before harmony, you know, to-night." 
 
 The pipes were summoned forthwith. System appeared to 
 regulate the proceedings of this particular night at the Green 
 Dragon. The pipes charged, and those of the guests who 
 smoked, well fixed behind them, celestial Harmony was 
 invoked through the slowly curling clouds. In Britain the 
 Goddess is coy. She demands pressure to appear, and great 
 gulps of ale. Vastly does she swell the chests of her island 
 children, but with the modesty of a maid at the commencement. 
 Precedence again disturbed the minds of the company. At last 
 the red-faced young farmer led off with "The Rose and the 
 Thorn." In that day Chloe still lived; nor were the amorous 
 transports of Strephon quenched. Mountainous inflation — 
 mouse-like issue characterised the young farmer's first verse. 
 Encouraged by manifest approbation he now told Chloe that 
 he "by Heaven! never would plant in that bosom a thorn," 
 with such a volume of sound as did indeed show how a 
 lover's oath should be uttered in the ear of a British damsel 
 to subdue her. 
 
 " Good ! " cried Mr. Raikes, anxious to be convivial. 
 
 Subsiding into impertinence, he asked Laxley, " Could you 
 tip us a Strephonade, sir ? Rejoiced to listen to you, I'm 
 sure ! Promise you my applause beforehand." 
 
 Harry replied hotly : " Will you step out of the room with 
 me a minute?" 
 
 " Have you a confession to make ? " quoth Jack, unmoved. 
 " Have yow planted a thorn in the feminine flower-garden? 
 Make a clean breast of it at the table. Confess openly and 
 be absolved. 'Gad, there's a young woman in the house. 
 She may be Chloe. If so, all I can say is, she may complain 
 of a thorn of some magnitude, and will very soon exhibit 
 one." 
 
 While Evan spoke a word of angry reproof to Mr. Raikes, 
 Harry had to be restrained by his two friends. Jack's insinu-
 
 138 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 ation seemed to toucli liim keenly. By a strange hazard 
 they had both glanced close upon facts, 
 
 Mutterings amid the opposite party of " Sit down, — Don't 
 be an ass, — Leave the snob alone," were sufficiently distinct. 
 The rest of the company looked on with curiosity ; the mouth 
 of the chairman was bunched. Drummond had his eyes on 
 Evan, who was gazing steadily at the three. Suddenly 
 " The fellow isn't a gentleman ! " struck the attention of Mr. 
 Kaikes with alarming force. 
 
 I remember hearing of a dispute between two youthful 
 clerks, one of whom launched at the other's head accusations 
 that, if true, would have warranted his being expelled from 
 society : till, having exhausted his stock, the youth gently 
 announced to his opponent that he was a numskull : upon 
 which the latter, hitherto full of forbearance, shouted that 
 he could bear anything but that, — appealed to the witnesses 
 generally for a corroboration of the epithet, and turned back 
 his wristbands. 
 
 It was with similar sensations, inexplicable to the historian, 
 that Mr. Raikes — who had borne to have imputed to him 
 frightful things — heard that he was not considered a gentle- 
 man : and as they who are themselves, perhaps, doubtful 
 of the fact, are most stung by the denial of it, so do 
 they take refuge in assertion, and claim to establish it by 
 violence. 
 
 Mr. John Baikes vociferated: "I'm the son of a gen- 
 tleman ! " 
 
 Drummond, from the head of the table, saw that a diversion 
 was imperative. He leaned forward, and with a look of great 
 interest said : 
 
 "Are you really? Pray never disgrace your origin, then." 
 
 He spoke with an apparent sincerity, and Jack, absorbed by 
 the three in front of him, and deceived by the mildness of his 
 manner, continued glaring at them, after a sharp turn of 
 the head, like a dog receiving a stroke while his attention is 
 taken by a bone. 
 
 " If the choice were offered me, I think I would rather 
 have known his father," said the smiling feUow, yawning, 
 and rocking on his chair.
 
 ALE HAS ONE QUALITY OF WINE. 139 
 
 " You would, possibly, have been exceedingly intimate — 
 with his right foot," said Jack. 
 
 The other merely remarked : " Oh ! that is the language of 
 the son of a gentleman." 
 
 Jack's evident pugnacity behind his insolence, astonished 
 Evan, as the youth was not famed for bravery at school ; but 
 this is what dignity and ale do for us in the world. 
 
 The tumult of irony, abuse, and retort, went on despite 
 the efforts of Drummond and the chairman. It was strange ; 
 for at Parmer Broadmead's end of the table, friendship had 
 grown maudlin : two were seen in a drowsy embrace, with 
 crossed pipes; and others were vowing deep amity, and 
 offering to fight the man that might desire it. 
 
 "Are ye a friend ? or are ye a foe ? " was heard repeatedly, 
 and consequences to the career of the respondent, on his 
 choice of affirmatives to either of these two interrogations, 
 emphatically detailed. 
 
 It was likewise asked, in reference to the row at the 
 gentlemen's end: "Why doan' they stand up and have't 
 out?" 
 
 " They talks, they speechifies — why doan' they fight for't, 
 and then be friendly ? " 
 
 "Where's the yarmony, Mr. Chair, I axes — so please ye?" 
 sang out Farmer Broadmead. 
 
 "Ay, ay! Silence ! " the chairman called. 
 
 Mr. Baikes begged permission to pronounce his excuses, 
 but lapsed into a lamentation for the squandering of property 
 bequeathed to him by his respected uncle, and for which — as 
 far as he was intelligible — he persisted in calling the three 
 offensive young cricketers opposite to account. 
 
 Before he could desist, Harmony, no longer coy, burst on 
 the assembly from three different sources. "A Man who is 
 given to Liquor," soared aloft with " The Maid of sweet 
 Seventeen," who participated in the adventures of " Young 
 Molly and the Kicking Cow ; " while the guests selected the 
 chorus of the song that first demanded it. 
 
 Evan probably thought that Harmony was herself only 
 when she came single, or he was wearied of his fellows, and 
 wished to gaze a moment on the skies whose arms were over
 
 HO EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 and around his young beloved. He went to the window and 
 threw it up, and feasted his sight on the moon standing on 
 the downs. He could have wept at the bitter ignominy that 
 severed him from Eose. And again he gathered his pride as 
 a cloak, and defied the world, and gloried in the sacrifice that 
 degraded him. The beauty of the night touched him, and 
 mixed these feelings with a strange mournfulness. He quite 
 forgot the bellow and clatter behind. The beauty of the 
 night, and heaven knows what treacherous hope in the depths 
 of his soul, coloured existence very warmly. 
 
 He was roused from his reverie by an altercation unmis- 
 takeahly fierce. 
 
 Mr. Raikes had been touched on a tender point. In reply 
 to a bantering remark of his, Laxley had hummed a list 
 of Claret and Ehenish : " Liebfraumilch — Johannisberg — 
 Asmannshauser — Steinberg — Chateau Margaux — La Rose — 
 Lafitte," over and again, amid the chuckles of his comrades, 
 and Mr. Eaikes, unfortunately at a loss for a biting retort, 
 was reduced to that plain confession of a lack of wit ; he 
 offered combat. 
 
 " I'll tell you what," said Laxley, " I never soil my hands 
 with a blackguard ; and a fellow who tries to make fun of 
 Scripture, in my opinion is one. A blackguard — do you 
 hear? But, if you'll give me satisfactory proofs that you 
 really are what I have some difficulty in believing — the son of 
 a gentleman — I'll meet you when and where you please, sir." 
 
 "Fight him, anyhow," said Harry. "I'll take him my- 
 self after we finish the match to-morrow." 
 
 Laxley rejoined that Mr. Raikes must be left to him. 
 
 " Then I'll take the other," said Harry. " Where is he ? " 
 
 Evan walked round to his place. 
 
 "I am here," he answered, " and at your service." 
 
 " WiU you fight ? " cried Harry. 
 
 There was a disdainful smile on Evan's mouth, as he 
 replied : "I must first enlighten you. I have no pretensions 
 to blue blood, or yellow. If, sir, you will deign to challenge 
 a man who is not the son of a gentleman, and consider the 
 expression of his thorough contempt for your conduct suffi- 
 cient to enable you to overlook that fact, you may dispose of
 
 ALE HAS ONE QUALITY OF WINE. 141 
 
 me. My friend here has, it seems, reason to be proud of his 
 connections. That you may not subsequently bring the charge 
 against me of having led you to * soil your hands ' — as your 
 friend there terms it — I, with all the willingness in the world 
 to chastise you or him for your impertinence, must — as I con- 
 ceive I am bound to do — first give you a fair chance of 
 escape, by telling you that my father was a tailor, and that I 
 also am a tailor." 
 
 The countenance of Mr. Raikes at the conclusion of this 
 speech was a painful picture. He knocked the table passion- 
 ately, exclaiming : 
 
 " Who'd have thought it ? " 
 
 Indeed, Evan could not have mentioned it, but for the ale. 
 It was the ale in him expelling truth ; and certainly, to look 
 at him, none would have thought it. 
 
 " That will do," said Laxley, lacking the magnanimity 
 to despise the advantage given him, " you have chosen the 
 very best means of saving your skins." 
 
 "We'll come to you when our supply of clothes runs 
 short," added Harry. " A snip ! " 
 
 " Pardon me ! " said Evan, with his eyes slightly widening, 
 " but if you come to me, I shall no longer give you a choice 
 of behaviour. I wish you good-night, gentlemen. I shall be 
 in this house, and am to be found here, till ten o'clock to- 
 morrow morning. Sir," he addressed the chairman, "I 
 must apologize to you for this interruption to your kindness, 
 for which I thank you very sincerely. It's ' good -night,' 
 now, sir," he pursued, bowing, and holding out his hand, 
 with a smile. 
 
 The chairman grasped it: "You're a hot-headed young 
 fool, sir : you're an ill-tempered ferocious young ass, sir. 
 Can't you see another young donkey without joining company 
 in kicks — eh ? Sit down, and don't dare to spoil the fun any 
 more. You a tailor ! Who'll believe it ? You're a nobleman 
 in disguise. Didn't your friend say so? — ha ! ha ! Sit down." 
 He pulled out his watch, and proclaiming that he was born 
 into this world at the hour about to strike, called for a bumper 
 all round. 
 
 "VVTiile such of the company as had yet legs and eyes
 
 142 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 unvanquislied by the potency of the ale, stood up to driuk 
 and cheer, Mark, the waiter, scurried into the room, and, to 
 the immense stupefaction of the chairman, and amusement of 
 his guests, spread the news of the immediate birth of a little 
 stranger on the premises, who was declared by Dr. Pillie to 
 be a lusty boy, and for whom the kindly landlady solicited 
 good luck to be drunk. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE MATCH OF FAXLOWFIELD AGAnSTST BECKLEY. 
 
 The dramatic proportions to which ale will exalt the 
 sentiments within us, and our delivery of them, are apt to 
 dwindle and shrink even below the natural elevation when 
 we look back on them from the hither shore of the river of 
 sleep — in other words, wake in the morning : and it was with 
 no very self-satisfied emotions that Evan, dressing by the full 
 light of day, reviewed his share in the events of the preceding 
 night. Why, since he had accepted his fate, should he 
 pretend to judge the conduct of people his superiors in rank ? 
 And where was the necessity for him to thrust the fact of his 
 being that abhorred social pariah down the throats of an 
 assembly of worthy good fellows ? The answer was, that he 
 had not accepted his fate : that he considered himself as good 
 a gentleman as any man living, and was in absolute hostility 
 with the prejudices of society. That was the state of the 
 case : but the evaporation of ale in his brain caused him to 
 view his actions from the humble extreme of that delightful 
 liquor, of which the spirit had flown and the corpse 
 remained. 
 
 Having revived his system with soda-water, and finding no 
 sign of his antagonist below, Mr. Raikes, to disperse the 
 tceptical dimples on his friend's face, alluded during break- 
 fast to a determination he had formed to go forth and show 
 on the cricket-field.
 
 MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST BECKLEY. 143 
 
 "For, you know," Jack observed, "they can't have any 
 objection to fight we." 
 
 Evan, slightly colouring, answered : "Why, you said up- 
 stairs, you thought fighting duels disgraceful folly." 
 
 " So it is, so it is ; everybody knows that," returned Jack ; 
 " but what can a gentleman do ? " 
 
 " That's decisive," said Evan. 
 
 " "What can a gentleman do?" Jack reiterated. 
 
 " Be a disgraceful fool, I suppose," said Evan: and Jack 
 went on with his breakfast, as if to be such occasionally was 
 the distinguished fate of a gentleman, of which others, not 
 so happy in their birth, might well be envious. 
 
 Mr. Eaikes could not help betraying that he bore in mind 
 the main incidents of the festival over-night ; for when he had 
 inquired who it might be that had reduced his friend to wear 
 mourning, and heard that it was his father (spoken by Evan 
 with a quiet sigh), Mr. Eaikes tapped an egg, and his flexible 
 brows exhibited a whole Bar of contending arguments within. 
 More than for the love of pleasure, Mr. Eaikes had spent 
 his money to be taken for a gentleman. He naturally 
 thought highly of the position, having bought it. But Mr. 
 Eaikes appreciated a capital fellow, and felt warmly to 
 Evan, who, moreover, was feeding him. To put Evan in 
 countenance, he said, with genial facetiousness, that was 
 meant to mark his generous humility : 
 
 " And I, Harrington, I mourn my hat. He is old — I 
 mourn him yet living. The presence of crape on him signifies 
 — he ne'er shall have a gloss again ! Nay, more — for thus 
 doth veritable sorrow serve us — it conceals one or two strik- 
 ing defects, my friend ! I say ! my family would be rather 
 astonished to see me in this travesty — in this most strange 
 attire, eh ? " 
 
 The latter sentence was uttered indirectly for the benefit 
 of the landlady, who now stood smiling in the room, wishing 
 them good morning, and hoping they had slept weU. She 
 handed to Evan his purse, telling him she had taken it last 
 night, thinking it safer for the time being in her pocket ; and 
 that the chaii-man of the feast paid for all in the Green 
 Dragon up to twelve that day, he having been born between
 
 144 EVAN HAREINGTOK 
 
 the hours, and liking to make certain : and that every year 
 he did the same ; and was a seemingly rough old gentleman, 
 but as soft-hearted as a chicken. His name must positively 
 not he inquired, she said; to he thankful to him was to 
 depart, asking no questions. 
 
 " And with a dart in the bosom from those eyes — those 
 eyes ! " cried Jack, shaking his head at the landlady's resist- 
 less charms. 
 
 " I hope you was not one of the gentlemen who came and 
 disturbed us last night, sir ? " she turned on him sharply. 
 
 Jack dallied with the imputation, but denied his guilt. 
 
 " No ; it wasn't your voice," continued the landlady. " A 
 parcel of young puppies calling themselves gentlemen ! I 
 know him. It's that young Mr. Laxley : and he the nephew 
 of a Bishop, and one of the Honourables ! and. then the poor 
 gals get the blame. I call it a shame, I do. There's that 
 poor young creature up- stairs — somebody's victim she is : 
 and nobody's to suffer but herself, the little fool ! " 
 
 "Yes," said Jack. "Ah! we regret these things in after 
 life ! " and he looked as if he had many gentlemanly burdens 
 of the kind on his conscience. 
 
 "It's a wonder, to my mind," remarked the landlady, 
 when she had placidly surveyed Mr. Eaikes, "how young 
 gals can let some of you men-folk mislead 'em." 
 
 " It is a wonder," said Jack ; " but pray don't be pathetic, 
 ma'am — I can't stand it." 
 
 The landlady turned from him huffily, and addressed Evan : 
 " The old gentleman is gone, sir. He slept on a chair, break- 
 fasted, and was off before eight. He left word, as the child 
 was born on his birthnight, he'd provide for it, and pay the 
 mother's bill, unless you claimed the right. I'm afraid he 
 suspected — what I never, never — no ! but by what I've seen 
 of you — never will believe. For you, I'd say, must be a 
 gentleman, whatever your company. She asks one favour of 
 you, sir : — for you to go and let her speak to you once before 
 you go away for good. She's asleep now, and mustn't be 
 disturbed. Will you do it, by-and-by '? Please to comfort 
 the poor creature, sir." 
 
 Evan consented. I am afraid also it was the landlady's
 
 MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST BECKLEY. 145 
 
 flattering speech made him, without reckoning his means, add 
 that the young mother and her child must be considered 
 under his care, and their expenses charged to him. The 
 landlady was obliged to think him a wealthy as well as a 
 noble youth, and admiringly curtsied. 
 
 Mr. John Raikes and Mr. Evan Harrington then strolled 
 into the air, and through a long courtyard, with brewhouse 
 and dairy on each side, and a pleasant smell of baking bread, 
 and dogs winking in the sun, cats at the corners of doors, 
 satisfied with life, and turkeys parading, and fowls, strutting 
 cocks, that overset the dignity of Mr. Raikes by awakening 
 his imitative propensities. Certain white-capped women, 
 who were washing in a tub, laughed, and one observed : 
 ** He's for all the world like the little bantam cock stickin' 
 'self up in a crow against the Spaniar'." And this, and the 
 landlady's marked deference to Evan, induced Mr. Eaikes 
 contemptuously to glance at our national blindness to the true 
 diamond, and worship of the mere plumes in which a person 
 is dressed. 
 
 " Strip a man of them — they don't know you," said Jack, 
 despondently. 
 
 " You ought to carry about your baby-linen, stamped 
 'gentleman born,' " said Evan. 
 
 Jack returned : " It's all very well for you to joke, but — " 
 his tardy delicacy stopped him. 
 
 They passed a pretty flower-garden, and entering a smooth- 
 shorn meadow, beheld the downs beautifully clear under sun- 
 light and slowly-sailing images of cloud. At the foot of the 
 downs, on a plain of grass, stood a white booth topped by a 
 flag, which signalled that on that spot Fallowfield and Beck- 
 ley were contending. 
 
 "A singular old gentleman ! A very singular old gentle- 
 man, that!" Jack observed, following an idea that had 
 been occupying him. "We did wrong to miss him. "We 
 ought to have waylaid him in the morning. Never miss a 
 chance, Harrington." 
 
 " What chance ? " Evan inquired. 
 
 " Those old gentlemen are very odd," Jack pursued : 
 *' very strange. Se wouldn't have judged me by my attire.
 
 146 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 Admetus' flocks I guard, yet am a God ! Dress is nothing to 
 those old cocks. He's an eccentric. I know it ; I can see 
 it. He's a corrective of Cudford, who is abhorrent to my 
 soul. To give you an instance, now, of what those old boys 
 will do — I remember my father taking me, when I was quite 
 a youngster, to a tavern he frequented, and we met one night 
 just such an old fellow as this; and the waiter told us after- 
 wards that he noticed me particularly. He thought me a 
 very remarkable boy — predicted great things. Por some 
 reason or other my father never took me there again. I re- 
 member our having a Welsh rarebit there for supper, and 
 when the waiter last night mentioned a rarebit, 'gad he 
 started up before me. I gave chase into my early youth. 
 However, my father never took me to meet the old fellow 
 again. I believe it lost me a fortune." 
 
 Evan's thoughts were leaping to the cricket-field, or he 
 would have condoled with Mr. Eaikes for a loss that evi- 
 dently afflicted him still, and of which he was doubtless fre- 
 quently reminded on occasions when, in a bad hat, he gazed 
 on a glittering company from afar. 
 
 " Shall we go over and look at them ? " Evan asked, after 
 watching the distant scene wistfully. 
 
 "Hem! I don't know," Jack replied. "The fact is, 
 my hat is a burden in the staring crowd. A hat like this 
 should counsel solitude. Oh ! " he fired up, "if you think 
 I'm afraid, come along. Upon my honour ! " 
 
 Evan, who had been smiling at him, laughed and led the way. 
 
 Now it must be told that the lady's-maid of Mrs. Andrew 
 Cogglesby, borrowed temporarily by the Countess de Saldar 
 for service at Beckley Court, had slept in charge of the 
 Countess's boxes at the Green Dragon : the Countess having 
 told her, with the candour of high-born dames to their at- 
 tendants, that it would save expense; and that, besides, 
 Admiral Combleman, whom she was going to see, or Sir 
 Perkins Eipley (her father's old friend), whom she should 
 visit if Admiral Combleman was not at his mansion — both 
 were likely to have full houses, and she could not take them 
 by storm. An arrangement which left her upwards of twelve 
 hours' liberty, seemed highly proper to Mai-ia Conning, this
 
 MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST BECKLEY. 147 
 
 lady's-maid, a very demure young person. She was at her 
 bed-room window, as Evan passed up the court-yard of the 
 inn, and recognized him immediately. " Can it be him they 
 mean that's the low tradesman? " was Maria's mysterious 
 exclamation. She examined the pair, and added : " Oh, no. 
 It must be the tall one they mistook for the small one. But 
 Mr. Harrington ought not to demean himself by keeping 
 company with such, and my lady should know of it." 
 
 My lady, alighting from the Lymport coach, did know of 
 it, within a few minutes after Evan had quitted the Green 
 Dragon, and turned pale, as high-boi^n dames naturally do 
 when they hear of a relative's disregard of the company he 
 keeps. 
 
 " A tailor, my lady ! " said scornful Maria; and the Coun- 
 tess jumped and complained of a pin. 
 
 "How did you hear of this, Conning?" she presently 
 asked with composure. 
 
 " Oh, my lady, he was tipsy last night, and kept swearing 
 out loud he was a gentleman." 
 
 " Tipsy ! " the Countess murmured in terror. She had 
 heard of inaccessible truths brought to light by the magic 
 wand of alcohol. Was Evan intoxicated, and his dreadful 
 secret unlocked last night ? 
 
 "And who may have told you of this. Conning?" she 
 asked. 
 
 Maria plunged into one of the boxes, and was understood 
 to say that nobody in particular had told her, but that among 
 other flj'ing matters it had come to her ears. 
 
 " My brother is Charity itself," sighed the Countess. " He 
 welcomes high or low." 
 
 " Yes, but, my lady, a tailor ! " Maria repeated, and the 
 Countess, agreeing with her scorn as she did, could have 
 killed her. At least she would have liked to run a bodkin 
 into her, and make her scream. In her position she could, 
 not always be Charity itself : nor is this the required 
 character for a high-born dame : so she rarely affected it. 
 
 " Order a fly : discover the direction Mr. Harrington has 
 taken ; spare me further remarks," she said; and Maria 
 humbly flitted from her presence. 
 
 l2
 
 148 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 "When she was gone, the Countess covered her face with 
 her hands. " Even this creature would despise us ! " she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 The young lady encountered hy Mr. Raikes on the road 
 to Fallowfield, was wrong in saying that Beckley would be 
 seen out before the shades of evening caught up the ball. Not 
 one, but two men of Beckley — the last two — carried out their 
 bats, cheered handsomely by both parties. The wickets 
 pitched in the morning, they carried them in again, and 
 plaudits renewed proved that their fame had not slumbered. 
 To stand before a field, thoroughly aware that every suc- 
 cessful stroke you make is adding to the hoards of applause 
 in store for you — is a joy to your friends, an exasperation to 
 your foes ; — I call this an exciting situation, and one as 
 proud as a man may desire. Then, again, the two last men of 
 an eleven are twins : they hold one life between them ; so 
 that he who dies extinguishes the other. Your faculties are 
 stirred to their depths. You become engaged in the noblest 
 of rivalries : in defending your own, you fight for your 
 comrade's existence. You are assured that the dread of 
 shame, if not emulation, is making him equally wary and 
 alert. 
 
 Behold, then, the two bold men of Beckley fighting to 
 preserve one life. Under the shadow of the downs they 
 stand, beneath a glorious day, and before a gallant company. 
 For there are ladies in carriages here, there are cavaliers ; 
 good county names may be pointed out. The sons of first- 
 rate families are in the two elevens, mingled with the yeomen 
 and whoever can best do the business. Fallowfield and 
 Beckley, without regard to rank, have drawn upon their 
 muscle and science. One of the bold men of Beckley at 
 the wickets is Nick Frim, son of the gamekeeper at Beckley 
 Court ; the other is young Tom Copping, son of Squire 
 Copping, of Dox Hall, in the parish of Beckley. Last year, 
 you must know, Fallowfield beat. That is why Nick Frim, 
 a renowned out-hitter, good to finish a score brilliantly with 
 a pair of threes, has taken to blocking, and Mr. Tom cuts 
 with caution, though he loves to steal his runs, and is 
 usually dismissed by his remarkable cunning:.
 
 MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST BECKLEY. 149 
 
 The field was ringing at a stroke of Nick Prim's, who 
 had lashed out in his old familiar style at last, and the 
 heavens heard of it, when Evan came into the circle of 
 spectators. Nick and Tom where stretching from post to 
 post, might and main. A splendid four was scored. The 
 field took breath with the heroes ; and presume not to doubt 
 that heroes they are. It is good to win glorj^ for your 
 country ; it is also good to win glory for your village. A 
 Member of Parliament, Sir George Lowton, notes this em- 
 phatically, from the etatesman's eminence, to a group of 
 gentlemen on horseback round a carriage wherein a couple of 
 fair ladies reclined. 
 
 "They didn't shout more at the news of the Battle of 
 "Waterloo. Now this is our peculiarity, this absence of ex- 
 treme centralization. It must be encouraged. Local jealousies, 
 local rivalries, local triumphs — these are the strength of the 
 kingdom." 
 
 " If you mean to say that cricket's a " the old squire 
 
 speaking (Squire Uploft of Fallowfield) remembered the 
 saving presences, and coughed — "good thing, I'm one with 
 ye, Sir George. Encouraged, egad ! They don't want much 
 of that here. Give some of your lean London straws a 
 strip o' clean grass and a bit o' liberty, and you'll do 'em a 
 service." 
 
 " What a beautiful hit ! " exclaimed one of the ladies, 
 languidly watching the ascent of the ball. 
 
 " Beautiful,d'ye call it?" muttered the squire. 
 
 The ball, indeed, was dropping straight into the hands of 
 the long-hit-ofi". Instantly a thunder rolled. But it was 
 Beckley that took the joyful treble — Fallowfield the deeply- 
 cursing bass. The long-hit-ofi", he who never was known 
 to miss a catch — butter-fingered beast ! — he has let the ball 
 slip through his fingers. 
 
 Are there Gods in the air ? Fred Linnington, the unfor- 
 tunate of Fallowfield, with a whole year of unhappy recol- 
 lection haunting him in prospect, ere he can retrieve his cha- 
 racter — Fred, if he does not accuse the powers of the sky, 
 protests that he cannot understand it, which means the same. 
 Fallowfield's defeat — should such be the result of the contest
 
 150 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 — he knows now will be laid at his door. Five men who 
 have bowled at the indomitable Beckleyans think the same. 
 Albeit they are Britons, it abashes them. They are not the 
 men they were. Their bowling is as the bowling of babies ; 
 and see ! Nick, who gave the catch, and pretends he did it 
 out of commiseration for Fallowfield, the ball has flown from 
 his bat sheer over the booth. If they don't add six to the 
 score, it will be the fault of their legs. But no : they rest 
 content with a fiver. Yet more they mean to do, and che- 
 rish their wind. Success does not turn the heads of these 
 Britons, as it would of your frivolous foreigners. 
 
 And now small boys (who represent the Press here) spread 
 out from the marking-booth, announcing foremost, and in 
 larger type, as it were, quite in Press style, their opinion — 
 which is, that Fallowfield will get a jolly good hiding ; and 
 vociferating that Beckley is seventy-nine ahead, and that Nick 
 Prim, the favourite of the field, has scored fifty-one to his own 
 cheek. The boys are boys of both villages : but they are 
 British boys — they adore prowess. The Fallowfield boys 
 wish that Nick Prim would come and live on their side ; the 
 boys of Beckley rejoice in possessing him. Nick is the wicket- 
 keeper of the Beckley eleven ; long-limbed, wiry, keen of eye. 
 His fault as a batsman is, that he will be a slashing hitter. 
 He is too sensible of the joys of a grand spanking hit. A short 
 life and a merry one, has hitherto been his motto. 
 
 But there were reasons for Nick's rare display of skill. 
 That woman may have the credit due to her (and, as there 
 never was a contest of which she did not sit at the springs, sc 
 is she the source of all superhuman eff'orts exhibited by men), 
 be it told that Polly Wheedle is on the field ; Polly, one of 
 the upper housemaids of Beckley Court; Polly, eagerly 
 courted by Fred Linnington, humbly desired by Nick Prim — 
 a pert and blooming maiden — who, while her suitors combat 
 hotly for an undivided smile, improves her holiday by instil- 
 ling similar unselfish aspirations into the breasts of others. 
 
 Between his enjoyment of society and the melancholy it 
 engendered in his mind by reflecting on him the age and 
 decrepitude of his hat, Mr. John Kaikes was doubtful of his 
 happiness for some time. But as his taste for happiness was
 
 MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST BECKLET. 151 
 
 sharp, he, -witli a great instinct amounting almost to genius in 
 its pursuit, resolved to extinguish his suspicion by acting the 
 perfectly happy man. To do this, it was necessary that he 
 should have listeners : Evan was not enough, and was besides 
 unsympathetic. He had not responded to Jack's cordial 
 assurances of his friendship " in spite' of any thing, ^^ uttered 
 before they came into the field. 
 
 Mr. Raikes tried two or three groups. There is danger, 
 when you are forcing a merry countenance before the mirror 
 presented to you by your kind, that your features, unless 
 severely practised, will enlarge beyond the artistic limits and 
 degenerate to a grimace. Evan (hardly a fair judge, perhaps) 
 considered the loud remarks of Mr. Raikes on popular pas- 
 times, and the expression of his approval of popular sports, 
 his determination to uphold them, his extreme desire to see 
 the day when all the lower orders would have relaxation once 
 a week, and his unaffected willingness to stoop to join their 
 sports, exaggerated, and, in contrast with his attire, incon- 
 gruous. He allowed Mr. Raikes but a few minutes in one 
 spot. He was probably too much absorbed in himself to see 
 and admire the sublime endeavour of the imagination of Mr. 
 Raikes to soar beyond his hat. 
 
 Heat and lustre were now poured from the sky, on whose 
 soft blue a fleet of clouds sailed heavily. Nick Frim was 
 very wonderful, no doubt. He deserved that the Gods should 
 recline on those gold-edged cushions above, and lean over to 
 observe him. Nevertheless, the ladies were beginning to ask 
 when Nick Frim would be out. The small boys alone pre- 
 served their enthusiasm for Nick. As usual, the men took a 
 middle position. Theirs was the pleasure of critics, which, 
 being founded on the judgement, lasts long, and is without 
 disappointment at the close. It was safficient that the ladies 
 should lend the inspiration of their bonnets to this fine match. 
 Their presence on the field is another beautiful instance of 
 the generous yielding of the sex simply to grace our amuse- 
 ment, and their acute perception of the part they have to play. 
 
 Mr. Raikes was rather sliy of them at first. But his acting 
 rarely failing to deceive himself, he began to feel himself the 
 perfectly happy man he impersonated, and where there were
 
 152 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 ladies Jack went, and talked of days wlien he had creditably 
 handled a bat, and of a renown in the annals of Cricket cut 
 short by mysterious calamity. The foolish fellow did not 
 know that they care not a straw for cricketing fame. Jack's 
 gaiety presently forsook him as quickly as it had come. In- 
 stead of remonstrating' at Evan's restlessness, it was he who 
 now dragged Evan from spot to spot. He spoke low and 
 nervously. By-and-by he caught hold of Evan's arm, and 
 breathed in an awful voice the words : 
 
 "We're watched! " 
 
 "Oh, are we?" said Evan, carelessly. " See, there are 
 your friends of last night." 
 
 Laxley and Harry Jocelyn were seen addressing Miss 
 "Wheedle, who apparently had plenty of answers for them, 
 and answers of a kind that encouraged her sheepish natural 
 courtiers (whom the pair of youthful gentlemen entirely 
 overlooked) to snigger and seem at their ease. 
 
 " Will you go over and show ? " said Evan. 
 
 Mr. Kaikes glanced from a corner of his eye, and returned, 
 with tragic emphasis and brevity : 
 
 " We're watched. I shaU bolt." 
 
 " Very well," said Evan. " Go to the inn. I'll come to 
 you in an hour or so, and then we'll walk on to London, if 
 you like." 
 
 " Bailiffs do take fellows in the country," murmured Jack. 
 " They've an extraordinary scent. I fancied them among my 
 audience when I appeared on the boards. That's what upset 
 me, I think. Is it much past twelve o'clock ? " 
 
 Evan drew forth his watch. 
 
 "Just on the stroke." 
 
 " Then I shall just be in time to stick up something to the 
 old gentleman's birthday. Perhaps I may meet him ! I 
 rather think he noticed me favourably. Who knows? A 
 sprightly half -hour's conversation might induce him to do odd 
 things. He shall certainly have my address." 
 
 Mr. Eaikes, lingering, caught sight of an object, cried 
 "Here he comes: I'm off," edged through the crowd, over 
 whose heads he tried — standing on tip-toe — to gain a glimpse 
 of his imaginary persecutor, and dodged away.
 
 MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST BECKLEY. 153 
 
 Evan strolled on. A long success is better when seen at a 
 distance of time, and Nick Friin was beginning to suffer from 
 the monotony of his luck. Fallowfield could do nothing with 
 him. He no longer blocked. He lashed out at every ball, 
 and far flew every ball that was bowled. The critics saw, in 
 this return to his old practices, promise of Nick's approaching 
 extinction. The ladies were growing hot and weary. The 
 little boys gasped on the grass, but like cunning circulators 
 of excitement, spread a report to keep it up, that Nick, on 
 going to his wickets the previous day, had sworn an oath that 
 he would not lay down his bat till he had scored a hundred. 
 So they had still matter to agitate their youthful breasts, and 
 Nick's gradual building up of tens, and prophecies and specu- 
 lations as to his chances of completing the hundred, were still 
 vehemently confided to the field, amid a general mopping of faces. 
 
 Evan did become aware that a man was following him. 
 The man had not the look of a dreaded official. His counte- 
 nance was sun-burnt and open, and he was dressed in a 
 countryman's holiday suit. When Evan met his eyes, they 
 showed perplexity. Evan felt he was being examined from 
 head to heel, but by one unaccustomed to his part, and with- 
 out the courage to decide what he ought consequently to do 
 while a doubt remained, though his inspection was verging 
 towards a certainty in his mind. 
 
 At last, somewhat annoyed that the man should continue to 
 dog him wherever he moved, he turned on him and asked him 
 what he wanted ? 
 
 "Be you a Muster Ew'n Harrington, Esquire? " the man 
 drawled out in the rustic music of inquiry. 
 
 " That is my name," said Evan. 
 
 "Ay," returned the man, "it's somebody lookin' like a 
 lord, and has a small friend wi' shockin' old hat, and I see 
 ye come out o' the Green Drag'n this mornin' — I don't reck'n 
 there's e'er a mistaak, but I likes to make cock sure. Be 
 you been to Poortigal, sir ? " 
 
 "Yes," answered Evan, " I have been to Portugal." 
 
 ""What's the name o' the capital o' Poortigal, sir ? " The 
 man looked immensely shrewd, and nodding his consent at 
 the laughing reply, added :
 
 154 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 "And there you was born, sir ? You'll excuse my bold- 
 ness, but I only does what's necessary." 
 
 Evan said he was not born there. 
 
 "No, not born there. That's good. Now, sir, did you 
 happen to be born anywheres within smell o' salt water ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Evan, " I was born by the sea." 
 
 " Not far beyond fifty mile from Fairfield here, sir ? " 
 
 " Something less." 
 
 "All right. Now I'm cock sure," said the man. "Now, 
 if you'll have the kindness just to oblige me by — " he sped 
 the words and the instrument jointly at Evan, " — takin' 
 that there letter, I'll say good-bye, sir, and my work's done 
 for the day." 
 
 Saying which, he left Evan with the letter in his hands. 
 
 Evan turned it over curiously. It was addressed to " Evan 
 Harrington, Esquire, T of Lymport." 
 
 A voice paralyzed his fingers : the clear ringing voice of 
 a young horsewoman, accompanied by a little maid on a 
 pony, who galloped up to the carriage upon which Squire 
 Uploft, Sir George Lowton, Hamilton Jocelyn, and other 
 cavaliers, were in attendance. 
 
 " Here I am at last, and Beckley's in still! How d'ye do. 
 Lady Roseley? How d'ye do. Sir George. How d'ye do, 
 everybody. Your servant. Squire ! We shall beat you. 
 Harry says we shall soon be a hundred a-head of you. Fancy 
 those boys I they would sleep at Fallowfield last night. How 
 I wish you had made a bet with me, Squire." 
 
 " "Well, my lass, it's not too late," said the Squire, detain- 
 ing her hand. 
 
 " Oh, but it wouldn't be fair now. And I'm not going to 
 be kissed on the field, if you please. Squire. Here, Dorry 
 will do instead. Dorry! come and be kissed by the Squire." 
 
 It was Rose, living and glowing ; Rose, who was the 
 brilliant young Amazon, smoothing the neck of a mettlesome 
 gray cob. Evan's heart bounded up to her, but his limbs 
 were motionless. 
 
 The Squire caught her smaller companion in his arms, and 
 sounded a kiss upon both her cheeks ; then settled her in the 
 saddle, and she went to answer some questions of the ladies.
 
 MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST BECKLEY. 155 
 
 She had the same lively eyes as Rose ; quick saucy lips, 
 red, and open for prattle. Rolls of auburn hair fell down 
 her back, for being a child she was allowed privileges. To 
 talk as her thoughts came, as well as to wear her hair as it 
 grew, was a special privilege of this young person, on horse- 
 back or elsewhere. 
 
 "Now, I know what you want to ask me. Aunt Shome. 
 Isn't it about my Papa? He's not come, and he won't be 
 able to come for a week. — Glad to be with cousin Rosey ? I 
 should think I am ! She's the nicest girl I ever could 
 suppose. She isn't a bit spoiled by Portugal ; only browned; 
 and she doesn't care for that ; no more do I. I rather like 
 the sun when it doesn't freclde you. I can't bear freckles, 
 and I don't believe in milk for them. People who have them 
 are such a figure. Drummond Forth has them, but he's a 
 man, and it doesn't matter for a man to have freckles. — 
 How's my uncle Mel ? Oh, he's quite well. I mean he has 
 the gout in one of his fingers, and it's swollen so, it's just like 
 a great fat fir cone ! He can't write a bit, and rests his hand 
 on a table. He wants to have me made to write with my 
 left hand as well as my right. As if I was ever going to 
 have the gout in one of m^J fingers ! " 
 
 Sir George Lowton observed to Hamilton Jocelyn, that 
 Melville must take to his tongue now. 
 
 " I fancy he will," said Hamilton. " My father won't 
 give up his nominee; so I fancy he'll try Fallowfield. Of 
 course, we go in for the agricultural interest ; but there's a 
 cantankerous old ruffian down here — -a brewer, or something — 
 he's got half the votes at his bidding. We shall see." 
 
 " Dorothy, my dear child, are you not tired ? " said Lady 
 Roseley. " You are very hot." 
 
 " Yes, that's because Rose would tear along the road to get 
 here in time, after we had left those tiresome Copping people, 
 where she had to make a call. ' What a slow little beast 
 your pony is, Dorry ! ' — she said that at least twenty times." 
 
 '"Oh, you naughty puss!" cried Rose. "Wasn't it, 
 ' Rosey, Rosey, I'm sure we shall be too late, and shan't see 
 a thiug : do come along as hard as you can ? ' " 
 
 ''I'm sure it was not," Miss Dorothy retorted, with the
 
 156 EVAN HAREINGTOK 
 
 large eyes of innocence. " You said you wanted to see Nick 
 Frim keeping the wicket, and Ferdinand Laxley bowl. And, 
 oh ! you know something you said about Drummond Forth." 
 
 " Now, shall I tell upon you? " said Rose. 
 
 "'No, don't!" hastily replied the little woman, blushing. 
 And the cavaliers laughed out, and the ladies smiled, and 
 Dorothy added : "It isn't much, after all." 
 
 " Then, come ; let's have it, or I shall be jealous," said the 
 Squire. 
 
 " ShaU I teU P " Rose asked slily. 
 
 "It's unfair to betray one of your sex, Rose," remarked 
 the sweetly-smiling lady. 
 
 " Yes, Lady Roseley — mayn't a woman have secrets ? " 
 Dorothy put it with great natural earnestness, and they all 
 laughed aloud. " But I know a secret of Rosey's," continued 
 Miss Dorothy, " and if she tells upon me, I shall tell upon 
 her." 
 
 " They're out ! " cried Rose, pointing her whip at the 
 wickets. "Good night to Beckley! Tom Copping' s run out." 
 
 Questions as to how it was done passed from mouth to 
 mouth. Questions as to whether it was fair sprang from 
 Tom's friends, and that a doubt existed was certain : the 
 whole field was seen converging toward the two umpires : 
 Farmer Broadmead for Fallowfield, Master Nat Hodges for 
 Beckley. 
 
 " It really is a mercy there's some change in the game," 
 said Mrs. Shorne, waving her parasol. "It's a charming 
 game, but it wants variety — a little. "When do you return, 
 Rose ? " 
 
 " Not for some time," said Rose, primly. "I like variety 
 very well, but I don't seek it by running away the moment 
 I've come." 
 
 " No, but, my dear," Mrs. Shorne negligently fanned her 
 face, " you will have to come with us, I fear, when we go. 
 Your uncle accompanies us. I really think the Squire 
 will, too ; and Mr. Forth is no chaperon. Even you under- 
 stand that." 
 
 " Oh, I can get an old man — don't be afraid," said Rose, 
 " Or must I have an old woman, aunt? " 
 
 I
 
 MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAlNvST BECKLEY. 157 
 
 The lady raised her eyelids slowly on Eose, and thought : 
 " If you were soundly whipped, my little madam, what a 
 good thing it would be for you." And that good thing Mrs. 
 Shorne was willing to do for Rose. She turned aside, and 
 received the salute of an unmistakeable curate on foot. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Parsley, you lend your countenance to the game, 
 then ? " 
 
 The curate observed that sound Churchmen unanimously 
 supported the game. 
 
 " Bravo !" cried Rose. " How I like to hear you talk like 
 that, Mr. Parsley. I didn't think you had so much sense. 
 You and I will have a game together — single wicket. We 
 must play for something — what shall it be ? " 
 
 " Oh — for nothing," the curate vacuously remarked. 
 
 "That's for love, you rogue!" exclaimed the Squire. 
 " Come, come, none o' that, sir — ha! ha ! " 
 
 "Oh, very well ; we'll play for love," said Rose. 
 
 " And I'll hold the stakes, my dear— eh ? " 
 
 "You dear old naughty Squire! — what do you mean?" 
 Rose laughed. But she had all the men surrounding her, and 
 Mrs. Shorne talked of departing. 
 
 Why did not Evan bravely march away ? Why, he asked 
 himself, had he come on this cricket-field to be made thus 
 miserable ? What right had such as he to look on Rose ? 
 Consider, however, the young man's excuses. He could not 
 possibly imagine that a damsel who rode one day to a match, 
 would return on the following day to see it finished : or 
 absolutely know that unseen damsel to be Rose Jocelyn. And 
 if he waited, it was only to hear her sweet voice once again, 
 and go for ever. As far as he could fathom his hopes, they 
 were that Rose would not see him : but the hopes of youth 
 are deep. 
 
 Just then a toddling small rustic stopped in front of Evan, 
 and set up a howl for his " fayther." Evan lifted him high 
 to look over people's heads, and discover his wandering 
 parent. The urchin, when he had settled to his novel posi- 
 tion, surveyed the field, and shouting, " Eayther, fayther ! 
 here I bes on top of a gentleman ! " made lusty signs, which 
 attracted not his father alone. Rose sang out, " Who can
 
 158 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 lend me a penny?" Instantly the Curate and the Squire 
 had a race in their pockets. The Curate was first, hut Rose 
 favoured the Squire, took his money with a nod and a smile, 
 and rode at the little lad, to whom she was saying : *' Here, 
 bonny boy, this wiU buy you " 
 
 She stopped and coloured. 
 
 "Evan!" 
 
 The child descended rapidly to the ground. 
 
 A bow and a few murmured words replied to her. 
 
 "Isn't this just like you, my dear Evan? Shouldn't I 
 know that whenever I met you, you would be doing some- 
 thing kind ? How did you come here P Tou were on your 
 way to Beckley ! " 
 
 " To London," said Evan. 
 
 " To London ! and not coming over to see me — us ? " 
 
 Here the little fellow's father intervened to claim his 
 offspring, and thank the lady and the gentleman : and, with his 
 penny firmly grasped, he who had brought the lady and the 
 gentleman together, was borne ofi" a wealthy human creature. 
 
 Before much further could be said between them, the 
 Countess de Saldar drove up. 
 
 " My dearest Eose ! " and " My dear Countess ! " and 
 " Not Louisa, then ? " and, " I am very glad to see you ! " 
 without attempting the endearing " Louisa " — passed. 
 
 The Countess de Saldar then admitted the presence of her 
 brother. 
 
 " Think ! " said Eose. " He talks of going on straight from 
 here to London." 
 
 " That pretty feminine pout will alone suffice to make him 
 deviate, then," said the Countess, with her sweetest open 
 slyness. " I am now on the point of accepting your most 
 kind invitation. Our foreign habits allow us to visit — thus 
 early ! He will come with me." 
 
 Evan tried to look firm, and speak as he was trying to 
 look. Rose fell to entreaty, and from entreaty rose to com- 
 mand ; and in both was utterly fascinating to the poor youth. 
 Luxuriously — while he hesitated and dwelt on this and that 
 fdint objection — his spirit drank the delicious changes of her 
 face. To have her face before him but one day seemed so
 
 MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST BECKLEY. 159 
 
 rich a boon to deny himself, that he was beginning to wonder 
 at his constancy in refusal ; and now that she spoke to him 
 60 pressingly, devoting her guileless eyes to him alone, he 
 forgot a certain envious feeling that had possessed him while 
 she was rattling among the other males — a doubt whether she 
 ever cast a thought on Mr. Evan Harrington. 
 
 "Yes; he will come," cried Eose; "and he shall ride 
 home with me and my friend Drummond ; and he shall have 
 my groom's horse, if he doesn't mind. Bob can ride home in 
 the cart with Polly, my maid ; and he'll like that, because 
 Polly's always good fun — when they're not in love with her. 
 Then, of course, she torments them." 
 
 " iSTaturaUy," said the Countess. 
 
 Mr. Evan Harrington's final objection, based on his not 
 having clothes, and so forth, was met by his foreseeing 
 sister. 
 
 " I have your portmanteau packed, in with me, my dear 
 brother ; Conning has her feet on it. I divined that I shoulc" 
 overtake you." 
 
 Evan felt he was in the toils. After a struggle or two he 
 yielded ; and, having yielded, did it with grace. In a 
 moment, and with a power of self-compression equal to that 
 of the adept Countess, he threw off his moodiness as easily as 
 if it had been his Spanish mantle, and assumed a gaiety that 
 made the Countess's eyes beam rapturously upon him, and 
 was pleasing to Rose, apart from the lead in admiration the 
 Countess had given her — not for the first time. We mortals, 
 the best of us, may be silly sheep in our likes and dislikes : 
 where there is no premeditated or instinctive antagonism, we 
 can be led into warm acknowledgment of merits we have not 
 sounded. This the Countess de Saldar knew right well. 
 
 Rose now intimated her wish to perform the ceremony of 
 introduction between her aunt and uncle present, and the 
 visitors to Beckley Court. The Countess smiled, and in the 
 few paces that separated the two groups, whispered to her 
 brother: " Miss Jocehjn, my dear." 
 
 The eye-glasses of the Beckley group were dropped with 
 one accord. The ceremony was gone through. The softly- 
 shadowed differences of a grand manner addressed to ladies.
 
 160 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 and to males, were exquisitely accomplished by the Countess 
 de Saldar. 
 
 "Harrington? Harrington?" her quick ear caught on the 
 mouth of Squire TJploft, scanning Evan. 
 
 Her accent was very foreign, as she said aloud : " We are 
 entirely strangers to your game — your creecket. My brother 
 and myself are scarcely English. Nothing save diplomacy 
 are we adepts in ! " 
 
 " You must be excessively dangerous, madam," said Sir 
 George, hat in air. 
 
 " Even in that, I fear, we are babes and sucklings, and 
 might take many a lesson from you. "Will you instruct me 
 in your creecket ? What are they doing now ? It seems 
 very unintelligible — indistinct — is it not ? " 
 
 Inasmuch as Farmer Broadmead and Master Nat Hodges 
 were surrounded by a clamorous mob, shouting both sides of 
 the case, as if the loudest and longest-winded were sure to 
 wrest a favourable judgment from those two infallible autho- 
 rities on the laws of cricket, the noble game was certainly 
 in a state of indistinctness. 
 
 The Squire came forward to explain, piteously entreated 
 not to expect too much from a woman's inapprehensive wits, 
 which he plainly promised (under eyes that had melted harder 
 men) he would not. His forbearance and bucolic gallantry 
 were needed, for he had the Countess's radiant full visage 
 alone. Her senses were dancing in her right ear, which had 
 heard the name of Lady Roseley pronounced, and a voice 
 respond to it from the carriage. 
 
 Into what a pit had she suddenly plunged ! You ask why 
 she did not drive away as fast as the horses would carry her, 
 and fly the veiled head of Demogorgon obscuring valley and 
 hill and the shining firmament, and threatening to glare 
 destruction on her ? You do not know an intriguer. Slie 
 relinquishes the joys of life for the joys of intrigue. This is 
 ber element. The Countess did feel that the heavens were 
 hard on her. She resolved none the less to fight her way to 
 her object; for where so much had conspired to favour her — 
 the decease of the generous Sir Abraham Harrington, of Tor- 
 quay, and the invitation to Beckley Court — could she believe
 
 MATCH OF FALLOWFIELD AGAINST BECKLEY. 161 
 
 the heavens in league against her ? Did she not nightly pray 
 to them, in all humbleness of body, for the safe issue of her 
 cherished schemes ? And in this, how unlike she was to the 
 rest of mankind ! She thought so ; she relied on her devout 
 observances ; they gave her sweet confidence, and the sense 
 of being specially shielded even when specially menaced. 
 Moreover, tell a woman to put back, when she is once clearly 
 launched ! Timid as she may be, her light bark bounds to 
 meet the tempest. I speak of women who do launch : they 
 are not numerous, but, to the wise, the minorities are the 
 representatives. 
 
 " Indeed, it is an intricate game \ " said the Countess, at 
 the conclusion of the Squire's explanation, and leaned 
 over to Mrs, Shorne to ask her if she thoroughly under- 
 stood it. 
 
 "Tes, I suppose I do," was the reply; "it — rather than 
 the amusement they find in it." This lady had recovered 
 Mr. Parsley from Eose, but had only succeeded in making the 
 Curate unhappy, without satisfying herself. 
 
 The Countess gave her the shrug of secret sympathy. 
 
 " We must not sai/ so," she observed aloud, most artlessly, 
 and fixed the Squire with a bewitching smile, under which 
 her heart beat thickly. As her eyes travelled from Mrs. 
 Shorne to the Squire, she had marked Lady Eoseley looking 
 singularly at Evan, who was mounting the horse of Bob the 
 groom. 
 
 " Eine young fellow, that," said the Squire to Lady 
 Roseley, as Evan rode off with Eose. 
 
 " An extremely handsome, well-bred young man," she 
 answered. Her eyes met the Countess's, and the Countess, 
 after resting on their surface with an ephemeral pause, mur- 
 mured: "I must not praise my brother," and smiled a smile 
 which was meant to mean : "I think with you, and thank 
 you, and love you for admiring him." 
 
 Ead Lady Eoseley joined the smile and spoken with ani- 
 mation afterwards, the Countess would have shuddered and 
 had chills of dread. As it was, she was passably content. 
 Lady Eoseley slightly dimpled her cheek, for courtesy's sake, 
 and then looked gravely on the ground. This was no pro- 
 
 M
 
 162 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 misej it was even an indication (as the Countess read iier), 
 of something beyond suspicion in the lady's mind; but it 
 was a sign of delicacy, and a sign that her feelings had been 
 touched, from which a truce might be reckoned on, and no 
 betrayal feared. 
 
 She heard it said that the match was for honour and glory. 
 A match of two days' duration under a broiling sun, all for 
 honour and glory ! "Was it not enough to make her despise 
 the games of men ? For something better she played. Her 
 game was for one hundred thousand pounds, the happiness of 
 her brother, and the concealment of a horror. To win a game 
 like that was worth the trouble. Whether she would have 
 continued her efforts, had she known that the name of Evan 
 Harrington was then blazing on a shop-front in Lymport, I 
 cannot tell. The possessor of the name was in love, and did 
 not reflect. 
 
 Smiling adieu to the ladies, bowing to the gentlemen, and 
 apprehending all the homage they would pour out to her 
 condescending beauty when she had left them, the Countess's 
 graceful hand gave the signal for Beckley. 
 
 She stopped the coachman ere the wheels had roUed off the 
 muf&ing turf, to enjoy one glimpse of Evan and Rose riding 
 together, with the little maid on her pony in the rear. How 
 suitable they seemed! how happy! She had brought them 
 together after many difficulties : — might it not be ? It was 
 surely a thing to be hoped for ! 
 
 Rose, galloping freshly, was saying to Evan: "Why did 
 you cut off your moustache ? " 
 
 He, neck and neck with her, replied : " You complained 
 of it in Portugal." 
 
 And she : " Portugal's old times now to me — and I always 
 love old times. I'm sorry ! And, oh, Evan ! did you really 
 do it for me ? " 
 
 And really, just then, flying through the air, close to the 
 darling of his heart, he had not the courage to spoil that deli- 
 cious question, but dallying with the lie, he looked in her eyes 
 lingeringly. 
 
 This picture the Countess contemplated. Close to her 
 carriage two young gentlemen-cricketers were strolling, while
 
 THE COUNTESS DESCRIBES THE FIELD. 163 
 
 Fallowfield gained breath to decide which men to send in 
 first to the wickets. 
 
 One of these stood suddenly on tiptoe, and pointing to the 
 pair on horseback, cried, with the vivacity of astonishment : 
 
 " Look there ! do you see that ? What the deuce is little 
 Rosey doing with the tailor-fellow ? " 
 
 The Countess, though her checks were blanched, gazed 
 calinly in Demogorgon's face, took a mental impression of the 
 speaker, and again signalled for Beckley. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE COUNTESS DESClilBES THE FIELD OF ACTION. 
 
 Now, to clear up a point or two : You may think the 
 Comic Muse is straining human nature rather toughly in 
 making the Countess de Saldar rush open-eyed into the jaws 
 of Demogorgon, dreadful to her. She has seen her brother 
 pointed out unmistakeably as the tailor-fellow. There is yet 
 time to cast him off or fly with him. Is it her extraordinary 
 heroism impelling her onward, or infatuated rashness ? or is 
 it her mere animal love of conflict ? 
 
 The Countess de Saldar, like other adventurers, has her 
 star. They who possess nothing on earth, have a right to 
 claim a portion of the heavens. In resolute hands, much may 
 be done with a star. As it has empires in its gift, so may it 
 have heiresses. The Countess's star had not blinked bale- 
 fully at her. That was one reason why she went straight on 
 to Beckley. 
 
 Again : the Countess was a born general. "With her star 
 above, with certain advantages secured, with battalions of 
 lies disciplined and zealous, and with one clear prize in view, 
 besides other undeveloped benefits dimly shadowing forth, 
 the Countess threw herself headlong into the enemy's 
 country. 
 
 But, that you may not think too highly of this lady, I 
 
 M 2
 
 164 EVAN HAEEINGTON. 
 
 must add that the trivial reason was the exciting cause — as 
 in many great enterprises. This was nothing more than the 
 simple desire to be located, if but for a day or two, on the 
 footing of her present rank, in the English country-house of 
 an offshoot of ' our aristocracy. She who had moved in the 
 first society of a foreign capital — who had married a Count, a 
 minister of his sovereign — had enjoyed delicious high-bred 
 badinage with refulgent ambassadors — could boast the friend- 
 ship of duchesses, and had been the amiable receptacle of 
 their pardonable follies — she who, moreover, heartily despised 
 things English : — this lady experienced thrills of proud 
 pleasure at the prospect of being welcomed at a third-rate 
 English mansion. But then, that mansion was Beckley 
 Court. "We return to our first ambitions, as to our first loves : 
 not that they are dearer to us, — quit that delusion : our 
 ripened loves and mature ambitions are probably closest to 
 our hearts, as they deserve to be — but we return to them be- 
 cause our youth has a hold on us which it asserts whenever a 
 disappointment knocks us down. Our old loves (with the 
 bad natures I know in them) are always lurking to avenge 
 themselves on the new by tempting us to a little retrograde 
 infidelity. A schoolgirl in Fallowfield, the tailor's daughter, 
 had sighed for the bliss of Beckley Court. Beckley Court 
 was her Elysium ere the ardent feminine brain conceived a 
 loftier summit. Fallen from that attained eminence, she 
 sighed anew for Beckley Court. JSTor was this mere spiritual 
 longing; it had its material side. At Beckley Court she 
 covdd feel her foreign rank. Moving with our nobility as an 
 equal, she could feel that the short dazzKng glitter of her 
 career was not illusory, and had left her something solid ; not 
 coin of the realm exactly, but yet gold. She could not feel 
 this in the Cogglesby saloons, among pitiable bourgeoises — 
 middle-class people daily soiled by the touch of tradesmen ! 
 They dragged her down. Their very homage was a mockery. 
 Let the Countess have due credit for still allowing Evan 
 to visit Beckley Court to follow up his chance. If Demo- 
 gorgon betrayed her there, the Count was her protector : a 
 woman rises to her husband. But a man is what he is, and 
 must stand upon that. She was positive Evan had com-
 
 THE COUNTESS DESCEIBES THE FIELD. 1G5 
 
 mitted himself in some manner. As it did not suit her to 
 think so, she at once encouraged an imaginary conversation, 
 in which she took the argument that it was quite impossible 
 Evan could have been so mad, and others instanced his youth, 
 his wrong-headed perversity, his ungenerous disregard for 
 his devoted sister, and his known weakness : she replying, 
 that undoubtedly they were right so far : but that he could 
 not have said he himself was that horrible thing, because 
 he was nothing of the sort : which faith in Evan's stedfast 
 adherence to facts, ultimately silenced the phantom opposi- 
 tion, and gained the day. 
 
 With admiration let us behold the Countess de Saldar 
 alighting on the gravel sweep of Beckley Court, the footman 
 and butler of the enemy bowing obsequious welcome to 
 the most potent visitor Beckley Court has ever yet em- 
 braced. 
 
 The despatches of a general being usually acknowledged 
 to be the safest sources from which the historian of a cam- 
 paign can draw, I proceed to set forth a letter of the Coun- 
 tess de Saldar, forwarded to her sister, Harriet Cogglesby, 
 three mornings after her arrival at Beckley Court ; and which, 
 if it should prove false in a few particulars, does neverthe- 
 less let us into the state of the Countess's mind, and gives 
 the result of that general's first inspection of the field of 
 action. The Countess's epistolary English does small credit 
 to her Fallowfield education; but it is feminine, and flows 
 more than her ordinary speech. Besides, leaders of men 
 have always notoriously been above the honours of grammar. 
 
 " My deaeest Harriet, 
 
 " Your note awaited me. No sooner my name an- 
 nounced, than servitors in yellow livery, with powder and 
 buckles started before me, and bowing one presented it on a 
 salver. A venerable butler — most impressive ! led the Vraj. 
 In future, my dear, let it be de Saldar de Sancorvo. That is 
 our title hj rights, and it may as well be so in England. 
 English Countess is certainly best. Always put the de. But 
 let us be systematic, as my poor Silva says. He would be in
 
 166 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 the way here, and had better not come till I see something 
 he can do. Silva has great reliance upon me. The farther 
 he is from Lymport, my dear ! — and imagine me, Harriet, 
 driving through Fallowiield to Beckley Court ! I gave one 
 peep at Dubbins's, as I passed. The school still goes on. 
 I saw three little girls skipping, and the old swing-pole. 
 Seminaet foe totjng ladies as bright as ever! I should 
 have liked to have kissed the children and given them 
 bonbons and a holiday. 
 
 " How sparing you English are of your crests and arms ! 
 I fully expected to see the Jocelyn's over my bed ; but no — 
 four posts totally without ornament ! Sleep, indeed, must 
 be the result of dire fatigue in such a bed. The Jocelyn 
 «rest is a hawk in jesses. The Elburne arms are, Or, three 
 falcons on a field, vert. How heraldry reminds me of poor 
 Papa ! the evenings we used to spend with him, when he 
 stayed at home, studying it so diligently under his directions ! 
 "VVe never shall again ! Sir Franks Jocelyn is the tliird son of 
 Lord Elburne, made a Baronet for his patriotic support of 
 the Ministry in a time of great trouble. The people are 
 sometimes grateful, my dear. Lord Elburne is the fourteenth 
 of his line — originally simple country squires. They talk of 
 the E,oses, but we need not go so very far back as that. 
 I do not quite understand why a Lord's son should con- 
 descend to a Baronetcy. Precedence of some sort for his lady, 
 I suppose. I have yet to learn whether she ranks by his 
 birth, or his present title. If so, a young Baronetcy cannot 
 possibly be a gain. One thing is certain. She cares very 
 little about it. She is most eccentric. But remember what I 
 have told you. It will be serviceable when you are speaking 
 of the family. 
 
 "The dinner-hour, six. It would no doubt be full seven 
 in Town. I am convinced you are half-an-hour too early. 
 I had the post of honour to the right of Sir Pranks. Evan 
 to the right of Lady Jocelyn. Most fortunately he was in 
 the best of spirits — quite brilliant. I saw the eyes of that 
 sweet Rose glisten. On the other side of me sat my pet 
 diplomatist, and I gave him one or two political secrets 
 which astonished him. Of course, my dear, I was wheedled
 
 THE COUNTESS DESCEIBES THE FIELD. 16J 
 
 out of them. His contempt for our weak intellects is in- 
 effable. But a woman must now and then ingratiate herself 
 at the expense of her sex. This is perfectly legitimate. 
 Tory policy at the table. The Opposition, as Andrew says, 
 not rei)resented. So to show that we were human beings, 
 we differed among ourselves, and it soon became clear to me 
 that Lady Jocelj'u is the rankest of Radicals. Mj' secret 
 suspicion is, that she is a person of no birth whatever, 
 wherever her money came from. A fine woman — yes ; still 
 to be admired, I suppose, by some kind of men ; but totally 
 wanting in the essentially feminine attractions. 
 
 "There was no party, so to say. I will describe the 
 people present, beginning with the insignificants. 
 
 " First, Mr. Parsley, the curate of Beckley. He eats 
 everything at table, and agrees with everj'thing. A most 
 excellent orthodox young clergyman. Except that he was 
 nearly choked by a fish-bone, and could not quite conceal his 
 distress — and really Rose should have repressed her desire to 
 laugh till the time for our retirement — he made no sensation. 
 I saw her eyes watering, and she is not clever in turning it 
 off. In that nobody ever equalled dear Papa. I attribute 
 the attack almost entirely to the tightness of the white neck- 
 cloths the young clergymen of the Established Church wear. 
 But, my dear, I have lived too long away from them to wish 
 for an instant the slightest change in anything they think, 
 say, or do. The mere sight of this young man was most re- 
 freshing to my spirit. He may be the shepherd of a 
 flock, this poor Mr. Parsley, but he is a sheep to one 
 young person. 
 
 " Mr. Drummond Forth. A great favourite of Lady 
 Jocelyn's ; an old friend. He went with them to the East. 
 Nothing improper. She is too cold for that. He is fair, 
 with regular features, very self-possessed, and ready — your 
 English notions of gentlemanly. But none of your men treat 
 a woman as a woman. We are either angels, or good fellows, 
 or heaven knows what that is bad. No exquisite delicacy, 
 no insinuating softness, mixed with respect, none of that 
 hovering over the border, as Papa used to say, none of that 
 happy indefiniteness of manner which seems to declare ' I
 
 168 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 would love you if I might,' or 'I do, but I dare not tell,' 
 even when engaged in the most trivial attentions — handing a 
 footstool, remarking on the soup, &c. You none of you 
 know how to ineet a woman's smile, or to engage her eyes 
 without boldness — to slide off them, as it were, gracefully. 
 Evan alone can look between the eyelids of a woman. I 
 have had to correct him, for to me he quite exposes the 
 state of his heart towards dearest Eose. She listens to 
 Mr. Forth with evident esteem. In Portugal we do not 
 understand young ladies having male friends. 
 
 "Hamilton Jocelyn — all politics. The stiff Englishman. 
 Not a shade of manners. He invited me to drink wine. 
 Before I had finished my bow his glass was empty — the man 
 was telling an anecdote of Lord Livelyston! You may be 
 sure, my dear, I did not say I had seen his lordship. 
 
 " Seymour Jocelyn, Colonel of Hussars. He did nothing 
 but sigh for the cold weather, and hunting. All I envied 
 him was his moustache for Evan. Will you believe that the 
 ridiculous boy has shaved ! 
 
 ' ' Then there is Melville, my dear diplomatist ; and here is 
 another instance of our Harrington luck. He has the gout 
 in his right hand; he can only just hold knife and fork, and 
 is interdicted Port-wine and penmanship. The dinner was 
 not concluded before I had arranged that Evan should resume 
 (gratuitously, you know) his post of secretary to him. So 
 here is Evan fixed at Becklej^ Court as long as Melville stays. 
 Talking of him, I am horrified suddenly. They call him the 
 great Mel I 
 
 " Sir Franks is most estimable, I am sure, as a man, and 
 redolent of excellent qualities — a beautiful disposition, very 
 handsome. He has just as much and no more of the English 
 polish one ordinarily meets. When he has given me soup 
 or fish, bowed to me over wine, and asked a conventional 
 question, he has done with me. I should imagine his opinions 
 to be extremely good, for they are not a multitude. 
 
 " Then his lady — but I have not grappled with her yet. 
 Now for the women, for I quite class her with the opposite 
 sex. 
 
 " You must know that before I retired for the night, I
 
 THE COUXTESS DESCRIBES THE FIELD. 169 
 
 induced Conning to think she had a bad head-ache, and Rose 
 lent me her lady's-maid — they call the creature Polljr. A 
 terrible talker. She would tell all about the family. Rose 
 has been speaking of Evan, It wovild have looked better had 
 she been quiet — but then she is so English ! " 
 
 Here the Countess breaks off to say that, from where she 
 is writing, she can see Rose and Evan walking out to the 
 cypress avenue, and that no eyes are on them ; great praise 
 being given to the absence of suspicion in the Jocelyn nature. 
 
 The communication is resumed the night of the same day. 
 
 "Two days at Beckley Court are over, and that strange 
 sensation I had of being an intruder escaped from Dubbins's, 
 and expecting every instant the old schoolmistress to call for 
 me, and expose me, and take me to the dark room, is quite 
 vanished, and I feel quite at home, and quite happy, Evan 
 is behaving very well. Quite the young nobleman. With 
 the women I had no fear of him — he is really admirable with 
 the men — easy, and talks of sport and politics, and makes 
 the proper use of Portugal. He has quite won the heart of 
 his sister. Heaven smiles on us, dearest Harriet ! 
 
 " We must be favoured, my dear, for Evan is very trouble- 
 some — distressingly inconsiderate ! I left him for a day — 
 remaining to comfort poor Mama — and on the road he picked 
 up an object he had known at school, and this creature in 
 shameful garments, is seen in the field where Rose and Evan 
 are riding — in a dreadful hat — Rose might well laugh at it ! 
 — he is seen running away from an old apple woman, whose 
 fruit he had consumed without means to liquidate; but, of 
 course, he rushes bolt up to Evan before all his grand com- 
 pany, and claims acquaintance, and Evan was base enough to 
 acknowledge him ! He disengaged himself so far well by 
 tossing his purse to the wretch, but if he knows not how to 
 cut, I assure him it will be his ruin. Resolutely he must 
 cast the dust off his shoes, or he will be dragged down to 
 their level. Apples, my dear ! 
 
 "Looking out on a beautiful lawn, and the moon, and 
 all sorts of trees, I must now tell you about the ladies 
 here.
 
 170 EVAN HAERINGTON. 
 
 "Comiing undid me to-night. While Conning remains 
 unattached, Conning is likely to be serviceable. If Evan 
 ■would only give her a crumb, she would be his most faithful 
 dog. I fear he cannot be induced, and Conning will be 
 snapped up by somebody else. You know how susceptible 
 she is behind her primness — she will be of no use on earth, 
 and I shall find excuse to send her back immediately. After 
 aU, her appearance here was all that was wanted. 
 
 " Mrs. Melville and her dreadful juvenile are here, as you 
 may imagine — the complete Englishwoman. I smile. on her, 
 but I could laugh. To see the crow's-feet under her eyes on 
 her white skin, and those ringlets, is really too ridiculous. 
 Then there is a Miss Carrington, Lady Jocelyn's cousin, aged 
 thirty-two — if she has not tampered with the register of her 
 birth. I should think her equal to it. Between dark and 
 fair. Always in love with some man, Conning tells me she 
 hears. Rose's maid, Polly, hinted the same. She has a little 
 money. 
 
 " But my sympathies have been excited by a little cripple 
 — a niece of Lady Jocelyn's and the favourite grand- daughter 
 of the rich old Mrs. Bonner — also here — Juliana Bonner. 
 Her age must be twenty. You would take her for ten. In 
 spite of her immense expectations, the Jocelyn's hate her. 
 They can hardly be civil to her. It is the poor child's 
 temper. She has already begun to watch dear Evan — cer- 
 tainly the handsomest of the men here as yet, though I grant 
 you, they are well-grown men, these Jocelyns, for an un- 
 travelled Englishwoman. I fear, dear Harriet, we have been 
 dreadfully deceived about Rose. The poor child has not, in 
 her own right, much more than a tenth part of what we 
 supposed, I fear. It was that Mrs. Melville. I have had 
 occasion to notice her quiet boasts here. She said this morn- 
 ing, ' when Mel is in the Ministiy ' — he is not yet in Parlia- 
 ment ! I feel quite angry with the Avoman, and she is not 
 so cordial as she might be. I have her profile very frequently 
 while I am conversing with her. 
 
 " With Grandmama Bonner I am excellent good friends, — 
 venerable silver hair, high caps, &c. More of this most 
 interesting Juliana Bonner by-and-by. It is clear to me that
 
 THE COUNTESS DESCRIBES THE FIELD. 171 
 
 Rose's fortune is calculated upon the dear invalid's death ! 
 Is not that harrowing ? It shocks me to think of it. 
 
 " Then there is Mrs. Shorne. She is a Jocelyn — and such a 
 history ! She married a wealthy manufacturer — bartered her 
 blood for his money, and he failed, and here she resides, a 
 bankrupt widow, petitioning any man that may be willing 
 for his love and a decent home. And — I say in charity. 
 
 "Mrs. Shorne comes here to-morrow. She is at present 
 with — guess, my dear ! — with Lady Roseley. Do not be 
 alarmed. I have met Lady Eoseley. She heard Evan's 
 name, and by that and the likeness I saw she knew at once, 
 and I saw a truce in her eyes. She gave me a tacit assurance 
 of it — she was engaged to dine here yesterday, and put it off 
 — probably to grant us time for composure. If she comes I 
 do not fear her. Besides, has she not reasons ? Providence 
 may bave designed her for a staunch ally — I will not say, 
 confederate. 
 
 " Would that Providence had fixed this beautiful man- 
 sion five hundred miles fromL , though it were in a deso- 
 late region ! And that reminds me of the Madre. She is in 
 health. She always will be overbearingly robust till the 
 day we are bereft of her. There was some secret in the 
 house when I was there, which I did not trouble to pene- 
 trate. That little Jane F was there — not improved. 
 
 Pray, be firm about Torquay. Estates mortgaged, but 
 hopes of saving a remnant of the property. Third son ! 
 Don't commit yourself there. We dare not baronetize him. 
 You need not speak it — imply. More can be done that 
 way. 
 
 "And remember, dear Harriet, that you must manage 
 Andrew so that we may positively promise his vote to the 
 Ministry on all questions when Parliament next assembles. 
 I understood from Lord Lively ston, that Andrew's vote 
 would be thought much of. A most amusing nobleman ! He 
 pledged himself to nothing ! But we are above such a thing 
 as a commercial transaction. He must countenance Silva. 
 Women, my dear, have sent out armies — why noi fleets? Do 
 not spare me your utmost aid in my extremity, my dearest 
 sister.
 
 172 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 "As for Strike, I refuse to speak of him. He is insuiferable 
 and next to useless. How can one talk with any confidence 
 of relationship with a Major of Marines ? "When I reflect ou 
 what he is, and his conduct to Caroline, I have inscrutable 
 longings to slap his face. Tell dear Carry her husband's 
 friend — the chairman or something of that wonderful com- 
 pany of Strike's — you know — the Duke of Belfield is coming 
 here. He is a blood-relation of the Elburnes, therefore of the 
 Jocelyns. It will not matter at all. Breweries, I find, are 
 quite in esteem in your England. It was highly com- 
 mendable in his Grace to visit you. Did he come to see the 
 Major of Marines ? Caroline is certainly the loveliest woman 
 I ever beheld, and I forgive her now the pangs of jealousy 
 she used to make me feel. 
 
 "Andrew, I hope, has received the most kind invitations 
 of the Jocelyns. He must come. Melville must talk with 
 him about the votes of his abominable brother in Fallowfield. 
 We must elect Melville and have the family indebted to us. 
 But pray be careful that Andrew speaks not a word to his 
 odious brother about our location here. It would set him 
 dead against these hospitable Jocelyns. It will perhaps be 
 as well, dear Harriet, if you do not accompany Andrew. You 
 would not be able to account for him quite thoroughly. Do 
 as you like — I do but advise, and you know I may be trusted 
 — for our sakes, dear one! I am working for Carry to 
 come with Andrew. Beautiful women always welcome. 
 A prodigy ! — if they wish to astonish the Duke. Adieu ! 
 Heaven bless your babes ! " 
 
 The night passes, and the Countess pursues : 
 
 " Awakened by your fresh note from a dream of Evan on 
 horseback, and a multitude hailing him Count Jocelyn for 
 Fallowfield ! A morning dream. They miglit desire that 
 he should change his name ; but ' Count ' is preposterous, 
 though it may conceal something. 
 
 "You say Andrew will come, and talk of his bringing 
 Caroline. Anything to give our poor darling a respite from 
 her brute. You deserve great credit for your managing of 
 that dear little good-natured piece of obstinate man. I will 
 at Qnce see to prepare dear Caroline's welcome, and trust her
 
 THE COUNTESS DESCRIBES THE FIELD. 173 
 
 stay may be prolonged in the interest of common humanity. 
 They have her story here already. 
 
 ' ' Conning has come in, and says that young Mr. Harry 
 Jocelyn will be here this morning from Fallowfield, where he 
 has been cricketing. The family have not spoken of him in 
 my hearing. He is not, I think, in good odour at home — a 
 scapegrace. Eose's maid, Polly, quite flew out when I hap- 
 pened to mention him, and broke one of my laces. These 
 English maids are domesticated savage animals. 
 
 " My chocolate is sent up, exquisitely concocted, in plate 
 of the purest quality — lovely little silver cups ! I have 
 already quite set the fashion for the ladies to have chocolate 
 in bed. The men, I hear, complain that there is no lady at 
 the breakfast-table. They have Miss Carrington to superin- 
 tend. I read, in the subdued satisfaction of her eyes (com- 
 pletely without colour), how much she thanks me and the 
 institution of chocolate in bed. Poor Miss Carrington is no 
 match for her opportunities. One may give them to her 
 without dread. 
 
 " It is ten on the Sabbath morn. The sweet church-bells 
 are ringing. It seems like a dream. There is nothing but 
 the religion attaches me to England ; but tJiat — is not that 
 everything ? How I used to sigh on Sundays to hear them 
 in Portugal ! 
 
 " I have an idea of instituting toilette-receptions. They 
 will not please Miss Carrington so well. 
 
 " Now to the peaceful village church, and divine worship. 
 Adieu, my dear. I kiss my fingers to Silva. Make no eflFort 
 to amuse him. He is always occupied. Bread ! — he asks no 
 more. Adieu ! Carry will he invited with your little man. 
 . . . You unhappily unable. . . . She, the sister I pine to 
 see, to show her worthy of my praises. Expectation and 
 excitement ! Adieu ! " 
 
 Filled with pleasing emotions at the thoughts of the ser- 
 vice in the quiet village church, and worshipping in the 
 principal pew, under the blazonry of the Jocelyn arms, the 
 Countess sealed her letter and addressed it, and then 
 examined the name of Cogglesby ; which plebeian name, it 
 struck her, would not sound well to the menials of Beckley
 
 174 EVAN HARRINGTON". 
 
 Court. While she was deliberating what to do to conceal it, 
 she heard, through her o^^en window, the voices of some 
 young men laughirg. She beheld her brother pass these 
 young men, and bow to them. She beheld them stare at 
 him without at all returning his salute, and then one of 
 them — the same who had filled her ears with venom at 
 Fallowfield — turned to the others and laughed outrage- 
 ously, crying : 
 
 ' ' By Jove ! this comes it strong. Fancy the snipocracy 
 here — eh? " 
 
 What the others said the Countess did not wait to hear. 
 She put on her bonnet hastily, tried the effect of a peculiar 
 smile in the mirror, and lightly ran down-stairs. 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 A CAPTURE. 
 
 The three youths were standing in the portico when the 
 Countess appeared among them. She singled out him who 
 was specially obnoxious to her, and sweetly inquired the 
 direction to the village post. With the renowned gallantry 
 of his nation, he offered to accompany her, but presently, 
 with a different exhibition of the same, proposed that they 
 should spare themselves the trouble by dropping the letter 
 she held prominently, in the bag. 
 
 " Thanks," murmured the Countess, " I will go." Upon 
 which his eager air subsided, and he fell into an awkward 
 silent march at her side, looking so like the victim he was to 
 be, that the Countess could have emulated his power of 
 laughter. 
 
 " And you are Mr. Harry Jocelyn, the very famous 
 cricketer? " 
 
 He answered, glancing back at his friends, that he was, 
 but did not know about the " famous." 
 
 " Oh ! but I saw you — I saw you hit the ball most beauti- 
 fully, and dearly wished my brother had an equal ability. 
 Brought up in the Court of Portugal, he is barely English. 
 There they have no manly sports. You saw him pass you ? " 
 
 " Him ! Whom ? ' ' asked Harry.
 
 A CAPTURE. 175 
 
 " My brother, on the lawn, this moment. Your sweet 
 sister's friend. Your Uncle Melville's secretary." 
 
 " "What's his name?" said Harry, in blunt perplexity. 
 
 The Countess repeated his name, which in her pronouncia- 
 tion was " Hawington," adding, " That was my brother. I 
 am his sister. Have you heard of the Countess de Saldar? " 
 
 "Countess ! " muttered Harry. " Dash it! here's a mis- 
 take." 
 
 She continued, with elegant fan-like motion of her gloved 
 fingers : " They say there is a likeness between us. The dear 
 Queen of Portugal often remarked it, and in her it was a 
 compliment to me, for she thought my brother a model ! You 
 I should have known from your extreme resemblance to your 
 lovely young sister." 
 
 Coarse food, but then Harry was a youthful Englishman ; 
 and the Countess dieted the vanity according to the nation- 
 ality. "With good wine to wash it down, one can swallow 
 anything. The Countess lent him her eyes for that purpose ; 
 eyes that had a liquid glow under the dove-like drooping 
 lids. It was a principle of hers, pampering our poor sex with 
 swinish solids or the lightest ambrosia, never to let the 
 accompanying cordial be other than of the finest quality. She 
 knew that clowns, even more than aristocrats, are flattered 
 by the inebriation of delicate celestial liquors. 
 
 " 1^0 w," she said, after Harry had gulped as much of the 
 dose as she chose to administer direct from the founts, " you 
 must accord me the favour to tell me all about yourself, for I 
 have heard much of you, Mr. Harry Jocelyn, and you have 
 excited my woman's interest. Of me you know nothing." 
 
 "Haven't I?" cried Harry, speaking to the pitch of his 
 new warmth. " My Uncle Melville goes on about you 
 tremendously — makes his wife as jealous as fire. How could 
 I tell that was your brother ? " 
 
 "Your uncle has deigned to allude to me?" said the 
 Countess, meditatively. "But not of him — of you, Mr. 
 Harry ! "What does he say ? " 
 
 " Says you're so clever you ought to be a man." 
 
 "Ah! generous! " exclaimed the Countess. "The idea, I 
 think, is novel to him. Is it not? "
 
 176 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 " Well, I believe, from what I hear, he didn't back you 
 for much over in Lisbon," said veracious Harry. 
 
 "I fear he is deceived in me now. I fear I am but a 
 woman — I am not to be ' backed.' But you are not talking 
 of yourself." 
 
 " Oh ! never mind me," was Harry's modest answer. 
 
 "But I do. Try to imagine me as clever as a man, and 
 talk to me of your doings. Indeed I will endeavour to com- 
 prehend you." 
 
 Thus humble, the Countess bade him give her his arm. 
 He stuck it out with abrupt eagerness. 
 
 "Not against my cheek." She laughed forgivingly. "And 
 you need not start back half-a-mile," she pursued with plain 
 humour : " and please do not look irresolute and awkward — 
 Tt is not necessary," she added. "There!" and she settled 
 her fingers on him, " I am glad I can find one or two things 
 to instruct you in. Begin. You are a great cricketer. "What 
 else?" 
 
 Ay ! what else ? Harry might well say he had no wish to 
 talk of himself. He did not know even how to give his arm 
 to a lady! The first flattery and the subsequent chiding 
 clashed in his elated soul, and caused him to deem himself 
 one of the blest suddenly overhaiiled by an inspecting angel 
 and found wanting : or, in his own more accurate style of 
 reflection, " What a rattling fine woman this is, and what a 
 deuce of a fool she must think me ! " 
 
 The Countess leaned on his arm with dainty languor. 
 
 " You walk well," she said. 
 
 Harry's backbone straightened immediately. 
 
 " No, no ; I do not want you to be a drill-sergeant. Can 
 j-QU not be told you are perfect without seeking to improve, 
 vain boy ? You can cricket, and you can walk, and will very 
 soon learn how to give your arm to a lady. I have hopes of 
 you. Of your friends, from whom I have ruthlessly dragged 
 you, I have not much. Am I personally offensive to them, 
 Mr. Harry ? I saw them let my brother pass without return- 
 ing his bow, and they in no way acknowledged my presence 
 as I passed. Are they gentlemen ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Harry, stupefied by the question. "One's
 
 A CAPTURE. 177 
 
 Ferdinand Laxley, Lord Laxley's son, heir to the title ; the 
 other's William Harvey, son of the Chief Justice — both 
 friends of mine." 
 
 " But not of your manners," interposed the Countess. " I 
 have not so much compunction as I ought to have in divorcing 
 you from your associates for a few minutes. I think I shall 
 make a scholar of you in one or two essentials. You do want 
 polish. Have I not a right to take you in hand ? I have 
 defended you already." 
 
 "Me?" cried Harry. 
 
 "None other than Mr. Harry Jocelyn. "Will he vouchsafe 
 to me his j)ardon ? It has been whispered in my ears that 
 his ambition is to be the Don Juan of a country district, and 
 I have said for him that, however grovelling his undirected 
 tastes, he is too truly noble to plume himself upon the repu- 
 tation they have procured him. Why did I defend you ? 
 Women, you know, do not shrink from Don Juans — even 
 provincial Don Juans — as they should, perhaps, for their own 
 sakes ! You are all of you dangerous, if a woman is not 
 strictly on her guard. But you will respect your champion, 
 will you not ?" 
 
 Harry was about to reply with wonderful briskness. He 
 stopped, and murmured boorishly that he was sure he was 
 very much obliged. 
 
 Command of countenance the Countess possessed in 
 common with her sex. Those faces on which we make them 
 depend entirely, women can entirely control. Keenly sensible 
 to humour as the Countess was, her face sidled up to his 
 immovably sweet. Harry looked, and looked away, and 
 looked again. The poor fellow was so profoundly aware of 
 his foolishness that he even doubted whether he was 
 admired. 
 
 The Countess trifled with his English nature ; qxiietly 
 watched him bob between tugging humility and airy conceit, 
 and went on : 
 
 " Yes ! I will trust you, and that is saying very much, for 
 what protection is a brother ? I am alone here — defence- 
 less ! " 
 
 Men, of coui'se, grow virtuously zealous in an instant ou 
 
 w
 
 178 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 behalf of the lovel}^ dame who tells them bewitchingly, she 
 is alone and defenceless, with pitiful dimples round the dewy- 
 mouth that entreats their guardianship and mercy ! 
 
 The provincial Don Juan found words — a sign of clearer 
 sensations within. He said : 
 
 "Upon my honour, I'd look after you better than fifty 
 brothers ! " 
 
 The Countess eyed him softly, and then allowed herself the 
 luxury of a laugh. 
 
 " No, no ! it is not the sheep, it is the wolf I fear." 
 
 And she went through a bit of the concluding portion of 
 the drama of Little Red Riding Hood veiy prettily, and 
 tickled him so that he became somewhat less afraid of her. 
 
 " Are you truly so bad as report would have you to be, 
 Mr. Harry?" she asked, not at all in the voice of a censor. 
 
 "Pray don't think me — a — anything you wouldn't have 
 me," the youth stumbled into an apt response. 
 
 "We shall see," said the Coim^tess, and varied her admi- 
 ration for the noble creature beside her with gentle ejaculations 
 on the beauty of the deer that ranged the park of Beckley 
 Court, the grand old oaks and beeches, the clumps of flower- 
 ing laurel, and the rich air swarming Summer. 
 
 She swept out her arm. "And this most magnificent 
 estate will be yours ? How happy will she be who is led 
 hither to reside by you, Mr. Harry ! " 
 
 "Mine? No; there's the bother," he answered, with 
 unfeigned chagrin. " Beckley isn't Elbume property, you 
 know. It belongs to old Mrs. Bonner, Rose's grand- 
 mama." 
 
 " Oh ! " interjected the Countess, indifferently. 
 
 " /shall never get it — no chance," Harry pursued. " Lost 
 my luck with the old lady long ago." He waxed excited on 
 a subject that drew him from his shamefacedness. "It goes 
 to Juley Bonner, or to Rosey ; it's a toss-up which. If I'd 
 stuck up to Juley, I might have had a pretty fair chance. 
 They wanted me to, that's why I scout the premises. But 
 fancy Juley Bonner ! " 
 
 " You couldn't, upon your honour ! " rhymed the Countess. 
 (And Harry let loose a delighted "Ha! ha!" as at a fine
 
 A CAPTURE. 179 
 
 Btroke of wit.) " Are we enamoured of a beautiful maiden, 
 Senor Harry ? " 
 
 "Not a bit," he assured her, eagerly. "I don't know 
 any girl. I don't care for 'em. I don't, really." 
 
 The Countess impressively declared to him that he must be 
 guided by her ; and that she might the better act his moni- 
 tress, she desired to hear the pedigree of the estate, and 
 the exact relations in which it at present stood towai-d the 
 Elburne family. 
 
 Glad of any theme he coiJd speak on, Harry informed her 
 that Beckley Court was bought by his grandfather Bonner 
 from the proceeds of a successful oil speculation. 
 
 " So we ain't much on that side," he said. 
 
 " Oil ! " was the Countess's weary exclamation. " I 
 imagined Beckley Court to be your ancestral mansion. Oil ! " 
 
 Harry deprecatingly remarked that oil was money. 
 
 " Yes," she replied ; " but you are not one to mix oil with 
 your Elbui'ne blood. Let me see — oU ! That, I conceive, is 
 grocery. So, you are grocers on one side ! " 
 
 " Oh, come ! hang it ! " cried Harry, turning red. 
 
 "Am I leaning on the grocer's side, or on the lord's? " 
 
 Harry felt di'eadfully taken down. " One ranks with one's 
 father," he said. 
 
 " Yes," observed the Countess ; " but you should ever be 
 careful not to expose the grocer. "When I beheld my brother 
 bow to you, and that your only return was to stare at him in 
 that singular way, I was not aware of this, and could not 
 account for it." 
 
 " I declare I'm very soiTy," said Harry, with a nettled 
 air. " Do just let me tell you how it happened. "We were 
 at an inn, where there was an odd old fellow gave a supper ; 
 and there was your brother, and another fellow — as thorough 
 an upstart as I ever met, and infernally impudent. He got 
 drinking, and wanted to fight us. Now I see it! Your 
 brother, to save his friend's bones, said he was a tailor ! Of 
 course no gentleman could fight a tailor ; and it blew over 
 with my saying we'd order our clothes of him." 
 
 " Said he was a ! " exclaimed the Countess, gazing 
 
 blankly. ^^
 
 180 EVAN HAREINGTOK 
 
 " I don't wonder at your feeling annoyed," returned 
 Harry. "I saw him with Kosey next day, and began to 
 smell a rat then, but Laxley won't give up the tailor. He's 
 as proud as Lucifer. He wanted to order a suit of your 
 brother to-day ; but I said not while he's in the house, how- 
 ever he came here." 
 
 The Countess had partially recovered. They were now in 
 the village street, and Harry pointed out the post-office. 
 
 " Your divination with regard to my brother's most 
 eccentric behaviour was doubtless correct," she said. " He 
 wished to succour his wretched companion. Anywhere — it 
 matters not to him what ! — he allies himself with miserable 
 mortals. He is the modern Samaritan. You should thank 
 him for saving you an encounter with some low creature." 
 
 Swaying the letter to and fro, she pursued archly : " I can 
 read your thoughts. You are dying to know to whom this 
 dear letter is addressed ! " 
 
 Instantly Hai-ry, whose eyes had previously been quite 
 empty of expression, glanced at the letter wistfully. 
 
 "Shall I tell you?" 
 
 "Yes, do." 
 
 " It's to somebody I love." 
 
 " Are you in love then P " was his disconcerted rejoinder. 
 
 " Am I not married ? " 
 
 " Yes; but every woman that's married isn't in love with 
 her husband, you know." 
 
 " Oh ! Don Juan of the provinces ! " she cried, holding the 
 seal of the letter before him in playful reproof. " Fie ! " 
 
 " Come ! who is it ? " Harry burst out. 
 
 " I am not, surely, obliged to confess ray correspondence 
 to you? Eemember ! " she laughed lightly. "He already 
 assumes the airs of a lord and master ! You are rapid, Mr. 
 Harry." 
 
 " Won't you really teU me ? " he pleaded. 
 
 She put a corner of the letter in the box. " Must I ? " 
 
 All was done with the archest elegance : the bewildering 
 condescension of a Groddess to a boor. 
 
 " I don't say you must, you know : but I should like to 
 see it," returned Harry.
 
 A CAPTURE. 181 
 
 " There ! " She showed him a glimpse of " Mrs.," cleverly 
 concealing plebeian " Cogglesby," and the letter slid into 
 darkness. "Are you satisfied ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Harry, wondering why he felt a relief at the 
 sight of " Mrs." written on a letter by a lady he had only 
 known half an hour. 
 
 "And now," said she, "I shall demand a boon of you, Mr. 
 Harry. Will it be accorded ? " 
 
 She was hurriedly told that she might count upon him for 
 whatever she chose to ask; and after much trifling and 
 many exaggerations of the boon in question, he heard that 
 she had selected him as her cavalier for the day, and that he 
 was to consent to accompany her to the village chui'ch. 
 
 "Is it so great a request, the desu'e that you should sit 
 beside a solitary lady for so short a space ? " she asked, noting 
 his rueful visage. 
 
 Harry assured her he would he very happy, but hinted at 
 the bother of having to sit and listen to that fool of a Parsley : 
 rigain assuring her, and with real earnestness, which she now 
 affected to doubt, that he would be extremely happy. 
 
 " You know, I haven't been there for ages," he explained. 
 
 "I hear it!" she sighed, aware of the credit his escort 
 would bring her in Beckley, and especially with Harry's 
 grandmama Bonner. 
 
 They went together to the village church. The Countess 
 took care to be late, so that all eyes beheld her stately marcli 
 up the aisle, with her captive beside her. Nor was her 
 captive less happy than he professed he would be. Charming 
 comic side-play, at the expense of Mr. Parsley, she mingled 
 with exceeding devoutness, and a serious attention to Mr. 
 Parsley's discourse. In her heart this lady really thought 
 her confessed daily sins forgiven her by the recovery of the 
 lost sheep to Mr. Parsley's fold. 
 
 The results of this small passage of arms were that Evan's 
 disclosure at Pallowfield was annulled in the mind of Harry 
 Jocelyn, and the latter gentleman became the happy slave of 
 the Countess de Saldar.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 LEADS TO A SMALL SKIRMISH BETWEEN KOSE AND EVAN". 
 
 Lady Joceltn belonged properly to that order which the 
 Sultans and the Eoxalanas of earth combine to exclude from 
 their little games, under the designation of blues, or strong- 
 minded women : a kind, if genuine, the least dangerous and 
 etaunchest of the sex, as poor fellows learn when the jElippant 
 and the frail fair have made mummies of them. She had the 
 frankness of her daughter, the same direct eyes and firm 
 step : a face without shadows, though no longer bright with 
 youth. It must be charged to her as one of the errors of her 
 strong mind, that she believed friendship practicable between 
 men and women, young or old. She knew the world pretty 
 well, and was not amazed by extraordinary accidents ; but as 
 she herself continued to be an example of her faith, we must 
 presume it natural that her delusion should cling to her. She 
 welcomed Evan as her daughter's friend, walked half-way 
 across the room to meet him on his introduction to her, and 
 with the simple words, " I have heard of you," let him see 
 that he stood upon his merits in her house. The young man's 
 spirit caught something of hers even in their first interview, 
 and at once mounted to that level. Unconsciously he felt 
 that she took, and would take, him for what he was, and he 
 rose to his worth in the society she presided over, A youth 
 like Evan could not perceive that in loving this lady's 
 daughter, and accepting the place she offered him, he was 
 guilty of a breach of confidence ; or reflect that her entire 
 absence of suspicion imposed upon him a corresponding 
 honesty toward her. B.e fell into a blindness. Without 
 dreaming for a moment that she designed to encourage his 
 passion for Rose, he yet beheld himself in the light she had 
 cast on him ; and, received as her daughter's friend, it 
 seemed to him not so utterly monstrous that he might be her 
 daughter's lover. A haughty, a grand, or a too familiar
 
 SKIRMISH BETWEEN ROSE AND EVAN. 183 
 
 manner, would have kept his eyes more clear to his true 
 condition. Lady Jocelyn spoke to his secret nature, and 
 eclipsed in his mind the outward aspects with which it was 
 warring. To her he was a gallant young man, a fit com- 
 panion for Rose, and when she and Sir Franks said, and 
 showed him, that they were glad to know him, his heart 
 swam in a flood of happiness they little suspected. 
 
 This was another of the many forms of intoxication to 
 which circumstances subjected the poor lover. In Fallow- 
 field, among impertinent young men, Evan's pride proclaimed 
 him a tailor. At Beckley Court, acted on by one genuine 
 soul, he forgot it, and felt elate in his manhood. The shades 
 of Tailordom dispersed like fog before the full South-west 
 breeze. "When I say he forgot it, the fact was present 
 enough to him, but it became an outward fact : he had 
 ceased to feel it within him. It was not a portion of his 
 being, hard as Mrs. Mel had struck to fix it. Consequently, 
 though he was in a far worse plight than when he parted 
 with Rose on board the Jocasta, he felt much less of an im- 
 postor now. This may have been partly because he had 
 endured his struggle with the Demogorgon the Countess 
 painted to him in such frightful colours, and found him hu- 
 man after all ; Lut it was mainly owing to the hearty welcome 
 Lady Jocelyn had extended to him as the friend of Eose. 
 
 Loving Rose, he nevertheless allowed his love no tender 
 liberties. The eyes of a lover are not his own; but his 
 hands and lips are, till such time as they are claimed. The 
 sun must smile on us with peculiar warmth to woo us forth 
 utterly — pluck our hearts out. Rose smiled on many. She 
 smiled on Drummond Forth, Ferdinand Laxley, William 
 Harvey, and her brother Harry ; and she had the same eyes 
 for all ages. Once, previous to the arrival of the latter three, 
 there was a change in her look, or Evan fancied it. They 
 were going to ride out together, and Evan, coming to his 
 horse on the gravel walk, saw her talking with Drummond 
 Forth. He mounted, awaiting her, and either from a slight 
 twinge of jealousy, or to mark her dainty tread with her 
 riding-habit drawn above her heels, he could not help 
 turning his head occasionally. She listened to Drummond
 
 184 EVAN HARRINGTON". 
 
 with attention, but presently broke from him, crying : " It's 
 an absurdity. Speak to them youi'self — I shall not." 
 
 On the ride that day, she began prattling of this and that 
 with the careless glee that became her well, and then sank 
 into a reverie. Betweenwhiles her eyes had raised tumults 
 in Evan's breast by dropping on him in a sort of questioning 
 way, as if she wished him to speak, or wished to fathom 
 something she would rather have unspoken. Ere they had 
 finished their ride, she tossed off what burden may have been 
 on her mind as lightly as a stray lock from her shoulders. 
 He thought that the singular look recurred afterwards. It 
 charmed him too much for him to speculate on it. 
 
 The Countess's opportune ally, the gout, which had re- 
 duced the Hon. Melville Jocelyn's right hand to a state of 
 nselessness, served her with her brother equally : for, having 
 volunteered his services to the invalided diplomatist, it ex- 
 cused his stay at Beckley Court to himself, and was a mask 
 to his intimacy with Rose, besides earning him the thanks of 
 the family. Harry Jocelyn, released from the wing of the 
 Countess, came straight to him, and in a rough kind of way 
 begged Evan to overlook his rudeness. 
 
 " You took us all in at Eallowfield, except Drummond," 
 he said. "Drummond would have it you were joking. I 
 see it now. And you're a confoundedly clever fellow into the 
 bargain, or you wouldn't be quill-driving for Uncle Mel. 
 Don't be uppish about it — will you ?" 
 
 "You have nothing to fear on that point," said Evan. 
 With which promise the peace was signed between them. 
 Drummond and William Harvey were cordial, and just 
 laughed over the incident. Laxley, however, held aloof. 
 His retention of ideas once formed befitted his rank and 
 station. 
 
 Some trifling qualms attended Evan's labours with the 
 diplomatist; but these were merely occasioned by the itera- 
 tion of a particular phrase. Mr. Goren, an enthusiastic tailor, 
 lad now and then thrown out to Evan stirring hints of an 
 invention he claimed : the discovery of a Balance in Breeches: 
 apparently the philosopher's stone of the tailor craft, a 
 secret that should ensure harmony of outline to the person
 
 SKIRMISH BETWEEN ROSE AND EVAN. 185 
 
 and an indubitable accommodation to the most difficult 
 legs. 
 
 Since Adam's expulsion, it seemed, the tailors of this 
 ■wilderness had been in search of it. But like the doctors of 
 this "wilderness, their science knew no specific : like the 
 Babylonian workmen smitten with confusion of tongues, they 
 had but one word in common, and that word was " cut." 
 Mr. Goren contended that to cut was not the key of the 
 science : but to find a Balance was. An artistic admii-er of 
 the frame of man, Mr. Goren was not wanting in veneration 
 for the individual who had arisen to do it justice. He spoke 
 of his Balance with supreme self-appreciation. JN'or less so 
 the Honourable Melville, who professed to have discovered 
 the Balance of Power, at home and abroad. It was a capital 
 Balance, but inferior to Mr. Goren' s. The latter gentleman 
 guaranteed a Balance with motion : whereas one step not 
 only upset the Honourable Melville's, but shattered the limbs 
 of Europe. Let us admit that it is easier to fit a man's legs 
 than to compress expansive empires. 
 
 Evan enjoyed the doctoring of kingdoms quite as well as 
 the diplomatist. It suited the latent grandeur of soul in- 
 herited by him from the great Mel. He liked to prop 
 Austria and arrest the Czar, and keep a watchful eye on 
 France ; but the Honourable Melville's deep-mouthed phrase 
 conjured up to him a pair of colossal legs imperiously de- 
 manding their Balance likewise. At first the image scared 
 him. In time he was enabled to smile it into phantom vague- 
 ness. The diplomatist diplomatically informed him, that it 
 might happen the labours he had undertaken might be neither 
 more nor less than education for a profession he might have 
 to follow. Out of this, an ardent imagination, with the 
 Countess de Saldar for an interpreter, might construe a pro- 
 mise of some sort. Evan soon had high hopes. What 
 though his name blazed on a shop-front ? The sun might 
 yet illumine him to honour ! 
 
 Where a young man is getting into delicate relations with 
 a young woman, the more of his sex the better — they serve 
 as a blind ; and the Countess hailed fresh arrivals warmly. 
 There was Sir John Loring, Dorothy's father, who had
 
 186 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 married the eldest of the daughters of Lord Elburne. A 
 widower, handsome, and a flirt, he capitulated to the Countess 
 instantly, and was played off against the provincial Don 
 Juan, who had reached that point with her when youths of 
 his description make bashful confidences of their successes, 
 and receive delicious chidings for their naughtiness — rebukes 
 which give immeasurable rebounds. Then came Mr. Gordon 
 Graine, with his daughter. Miss Jenny Graine, an early 
 friend of Rose's, and numerous others. For the present, Miss 
 Isabella Current need only be chronicled among the visitors — 
 a sprightly maid fifty years old, without a wrinkle to show for 
 it — the Aunt Bel of fifty houses where there were young 
 women and little boys. Aunt Bel had quick wit and capital 
 anecdotes, and tripped them out aptly on a sparkling tongue 
 with exquisite instinct for climax and when to strike for a laugh. 
 No sooner had she entered the hall than she announced the 
 proximate arrival of the Duke of Belfield at her heels, and it 
 was known that his Grace was as sure to follow as her little 
 dog, who was far better paid for his devotion. 
 
 The dinners at Beckley Court had hitherto been rather lan- 
 guid to those who were not intriguing or mixing young love 
 with the repast. Miss Current was an admirable neutral, sent, 
 as the Countess fervently believed, by Providence. Till now 
 the Countess had drawn upon her own resources to amuse the 
 company, and she had been obliged to restrain herself from 
 doing it with that unctuous feeling for rank which n\ armed 
 her Portuguese sketches in low society and among her sisters. 
 She retired before Miss Current and formed audience, glad of 
 a relief to her inventive labour. While Miss Current and her 
 ephemerals lightly skimmed the surface of human life, the 
 Countess worked in the depths. Vanities, passions, preju- 
 dices beneath the surface, gave her full employment. How 
 naturally poor Juliana Bonner was moved to mistake Evan's 
 compassion for a stronger sentiment! The Countess eagerly 
 assisted Providence to shufiie the company into their proper 
 places. HarryJocelyn was moodily happy, but good; greatly 
 improved in the eyes of his grandmama Bonner, who attri- 
 buted the change to the Countess, and partly forgave her the 
 Hinful consent to the conditions of her love-match with the
 
 SKIRMISH BETWEEN ROSE AND EVAN. 187 
 
 foreign Count which his penitent wife had privately confessed 
 to that strict Churchwoman. 
 
 " Thank Heaven that you have no children," Mrs. Bonner 
 had said; and the Countess humbly replied : "It is indeed 
 my remorseful consolation ! " 
 
 "Who knows that it is not your punishment?" added 
 Mrs. Bonner ; the Countess weeping. 
 
 She went and attended morning prayers in Mrs. Bonner's 
 apartments, alone with the old lady. "To make up for lost 
 time in Catholic Portugal ! " she explained it to the house- 
 hold. 
 
 On the morning after Miss Current had come to shape the 
 party, most of the inmates of Beckley Court being at break- 
 fast, Rose gave a lead to the conversation. 
 
 "Aunt Bel! I want to ask you something. We've been 
 making bets about you. Now, answer honestly, we're all 
 friends. Why did you refuse all your oifers ? " 
 
 "Quite simple, child," replied the unabashed ex-beauty. 
 "A matter of taste. I liked twenty shillings better than a 
 sovereign." 
 
 E,ose looked puzzled, but the men laughed, and Rose ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 "Now I see! How stupid I am ! You mean you may 
 have friends when you are not married. Well, I think 
 that's the wisest, after all. You don't lose them, do you ? 
 Pray, Mr. Evan, are you thinking Aunt Bel might still alter 
 her mind for somebody, if she knew his value ? " 
 
 " I was presuming to hope there might be a place vacant 
 among the twenty," said Evan, slightly bowing to both. 
 " Am I pardoned ? " 
 
 "I like you!" returned Aunt Bel, nodding at him. 
 "Where do you come from? A young man who'll let him- 
 self go for small coin's a jewel worth knowing." 
 
 "Where do I come from?" drawled Laxley, who had 
 been tapping an egg with a dreary expression. 
 
 " You, Ferdinand Laxley I " said Aunt Bel. " How 
 terribly you despise our curiosity! " 
 
 "Aunt Bel spoke to Mr. Harrington," said Rose, pettishly. 
 
 "Asked him where he came from," Laxley continued his
 
 188 EVAK HARRINGTON. 
 
 drawl. "He didn't answer, so I thought it polite for some* 
 body to." 
 
 " I must thank you expressly," said Evan, with a two- 
 edged smile. 
 
 Rose gave Evan one of her bright looks, and then called 
 the attention of Ferdinand Laxley to the fact that he had lost 
 a particular bet made among them. 
 
 " What bet ? " asked Laxley. " About the profession? " 
 
 A stream of colour shot over Eose's face. Her eyes flew 
 nervously from Laxley to Evan, and then to Drummond. 
 Laxley appeared pleased as a man who has made a witty 
 sally : Evan was outwardly calm, while Drummond replied 
 to the mute appeal of Rose, by saying : 
 
 "Yes; we've all lost. But who could hit it? The lady 
 admits no sovereign in our sex." 
 
 "So you've been betting about me?" said Aunt Bel. 
 "I'll settle the dispute. Let him who guessed * Latin ' pocket 
 the stakes, and, if I guess Mm, let him hand them over to 
 me." 
 
 " Excellent ! " cried Rose. " One did guess ' Latin,' Aunt 
 Bel! Now, tell us which one it was." 
 
 " Not you, my dear. You guessed ' temper,' " 
 
 " No ! you dreadful Aunt Bel ! " 
 
 " Let me see," said Aunt Bel, seriously. " A young man 
 would not marry a woman with Latin, but would not guess 
 it the impediment. Gentlemen moderately aged are mad 
 enough to slip their heads under any yoke, but see the 
 
 obstruction It was a man of forty guessed ' Latin.' I 
 
 request the Hon. Hamilton Everard Jocelyn to confirm it," 
 
 Amid laughter and exclamations Hamilton confessed him- 
 self the man who had guessed Latin to be the cause of Miss 
 Current's remaining an old maid; Rose, crying: "You really 
 are too clever. Aunt Bel ! " 
 
 A divergence to other themes ensued, and then Miss Jenny 
 Graine said : " Isn't Juley learning Latin ? I should like to 
 join her while I'm here." 
 
 "And so should I," responded Rose. "My friend Evan 
 is teaching her during the intervals of his arduous diplomatic 
 labours. Will you take us into your class, Evan ? "
 
 SKIRMISH BETWEEN" ROSE AND EVAN. 189 
 
 "Don't be silly, girls," interposed Aunt Bel. "Do you 
 want to graduate for my state with your eyes open? " 
 
 Evan objected his poor qualifications as a tutor, and Aunt 
 Bel remarked, that if Juley learnt Latin at all, she should 
 have regular instruction. 
 
 " I am quite satisfied," said Juley, quietly. 
 
 " Of course you are," Rose snubbed her cousin. " So 
 would anybody be. But Mama really was talking of a tutor 
 for Juley, if she could find one. There's a school at Bodley ; 
 but that's too far for one of the men to come over." 
 
 A school at Bodley, thought Evan, and his probationary 
 years at the Cudford Establishment uprose before him ; and 
 therewith, for the first time, since his residence at Beckley, 
 the figure of Mr. John Eaikes. 
 
 "There's a friend of mine," he said, aloud, "I think 
 if Lady Jocelyn does wish Miss Bonner to learn Latin 
 thoroughly, he would do very well for the groundwork, and 
 would be glad of the employment. He is very poor." 
 
 " If he's poor and a friend of yours, Evan, we'll have 
 him," said Rose : " we'll ride and fetch him." 
 
 " Yes," added Miss Carrington, " that must be quite suffi- 
 cient qualification." 
 
 Juliana was not gazing gratefully at Evan for his proposal. 
 
 Rose asked the name of Evan's friend. 
 
 "His name is Raikes," answered Evan. " I don't know 
 where he is now. He may be at EaUowfield. If Lady 
 Jocelyn pleases, I will ride over to-day and see." 
 
 " My dear Evan ! " cried Rose, " you don't mean that 
 absurd figure we saw on the cricket-field ? " She burst out 
 laughing. "Oh! what fun it will be! Let us have him 
 here by all means." 
 
 " I shall certainly not bring him to be laughed at," said 
 Evan. 
 
 " I will remember he is your friend," Rose returned 
 demurely ; and again laughed, as she related to Jenny Graine 
 the comic appearance Mr. Raikes had presented. 
 
 Laxley waited for a pause, and then said: "I have met 
 this Mr. Raikes. Asa friend of the family, I should protest 
 against his admission here in any office whatever — into the
 
 190 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 upper part of the house, at least. He is not a gentle- 
 man." 
 
 " "We don't want teachers to be gentlemen," observed 
 Rose. 
 
 " This fellow is the reverse," Laxley pronounced, and 
 desired Harry to confirm it ; but Harry took a gulp of 
 coffee. 
 
 " Oblige me by recollecting that I have called him a fi'iend 
 of miae," said Evan. 
 
 Rose murmtu'ed to him : " Pray forgive me ! I forgot." 
 Laxley hummed something about "taste." Aunt Bel led 
 from the theme by a lively anecdote. 
 
 After breakfast the party broke into knots, and canvassed 
 Laxley's behaviour to Evan, which was generally condemned. 
 Rose met the young men strolling on the lawn ; and, with 
 her usual bluntness, accused Laxley of wishing to insult her 
 friend. 
 
 "I speak to him — do I not?" said Laxley. ""What 
 would you have more ? I admit the obligation of speaking 
 to him when I meet him in your house. Out of it — that's 
 another matter." 
 
 " But what is the cause for your conduct to him, 
 Ferdinand ? " 
 
 " By Jove ! " cried Harry, " I wonder he puts up with it : 
 I wouldn't. I'd have a shot with you, my boy." 
 
 " Extremely honoured," said Laxley. "But neither you 
 nor I care to fight tailors." 
 
 " Tailors ! " exclaimed Rose, indignantly. There was a 
 sharp twitch in her body, as if she had been stung or struck. 
 
 " Look here. Rose," said Laxley; " I meet him, he insults 
 me, and to get out of the consequences tells me he's the son 
 of a tailor, and a tailor himself; knowing that it ties my 
 hands. Very well, he puts himself hors de combat to save 
 his bones. Let him unsay it, and choose whether he'U apolo- 
 gize or not, and I'll treat him accordingly. At present I'm 
 not bound to do more than respect the house I find he has 
 somehow got admission to." 
 
 "It's clear it was that other feUow," said Harry, casting 
 a side-glance up at the Countess's window.
 
 SKIRMISH BETWEEN ROSE AND EVAN. 191 
 
 Rose looked straight at Laxley, and abruptly turned on her 
 heel. 
 
 In the afternoon, Lady Jocelyn sent a message to Evan 
 that she wished to see him. Rose was with her mother. 
 Lady Jocelyn had only to say, that, if he thought his friend 
 a suitable tutor for !Miss Bonner, they would be happy to 
 give him the office at Beckley Court. Glad to befriend poor 
 Jack, Evan gave the needful assurances, and was requested 
 to go and fetch him forthwith. When he left the room, 
 Rose marched out silently beside him. 
 
 ""Will you ride over with me. Rose ?" he said, though 
 scarcely anxious that she should see Mr. Raikes immediately. 
 
 The singular sharpness of her refusal astonished him none 
 the less. 
 
 " Thank you, no ; I would rather not." 
 
 A lover is ever ready to suspect that water has been thrown 
 on the fire that burns for him in the bosom of his darling. 
 Sudden as the change was, it was very decided. His sen- 
 sitive ears were pained by the absence of his Christian name, 
 which her lips had lavishly made sweet to him. 
 
 He stopped in his walk. 
 
 " You spoke of riding to Fallowfield. Is it possible you 
 don't want me to bring my friend here? There's time to 
 prevent it." 
 
 Judged by the Countess de Saldar, the behaviour of this 
 well-born English maid was anything but well-bred. She 
 absolutely shrugged her shoulders and marched a-head of him 
 into the conservatory, where she began smelling at flowers 
 and plucking off sere leaves. 
 
 In such cases a young man always follows ; as her womanly 
 instinct must have told her, for she expressed no surprise 
 when she heard his voice two minutes afterwards. 
 
 " Rose ! what have I done ? " 
 
 "Nothing at all," she said, sweeping her eyes over his a 
 moment, and resting them on the plants. 
 
 " I must have uttered something that has displeased you." 
 
 " No." 
 
 Brief negatives are not re- assuring to a lover's uneasy 
 mind.
 
 192 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 " I beg you — Be frank with me, Rose ! " 
 
 A flame of the vanished fire shone in her face, but subsided, 
 and she shook her head darkly. 
 
 " Have you any objection to my friend ?" 
 
 Her fingers grew petulant with an orange leaf. Eyeing a 
 spot on it, she said, hesitatingly : 
 
 " Any friend of yours I am sure I should like to help. But 
 — but I wish you wouldn't associate with that — that kind 
 of friend. It gives people all sorts of suspicions." 
 
 Evan drew a sharp breath. 
 
 The voices of Master Alec and Miss Dorothy were heard 
 shouting on the lawn. Alec gave Dorothy the slip and 
 approached the conservatory on tip -toe, holding his hand out 
 behind him to enjoin silence and secrecy. The pair could 
 witness the scene through the glass before Evan spoke. 
 
 "What suspicions?" he asked, sternly. 
 
 Rose looked up, as if the harshness of his tone pleased her. 
 
 " Do you like red roses best, or white ? " was her answer, 
 moving to a couple of trees in pots. 
 
 " Can't make up your mind ? " she continued, and plucked 
 both a white and red rose, saying : ' ' There ! choose your 
 colour by-and-by, and ask Juley to sew the one you choose in 
 your button-hole." 
 
 She laid the roses in his hand, and walked away. She 
 must have known that there was a burden of speech on his 
 tongue. She saw him move to follow her, but this time she 
 did not linger, and it may be inferred that she wished to 
 hear no more.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 m WHICH EVAN WRITES HIMSELF TAILOK. 
 
 The only philosophic method of discovering what a young 
 woman means, and what is in her mind, is that zigzag process 
 of inquiry conducted by following her actions, for she can tell 
 you nothing, and if she does not want to know a particular 
 matter, it must be a strong beam from the central system of 
 facts that shall penetrate her. Clearly there was a disturb- 
 ance in the bosom of Rose Jocelyn, and one might fancy 
 that amiable mirror as being wilfully ruffled to confuse a 
 thing it was asked by the heavens to reflect : a good fight 
 fought by all young people at a certain period, and now and 
 then by an old fool or two. The young it seasons and 
 strengthens ; the old it happily kills ofi^ ; and thus, what is, is 
 made to work harmoniously with what we would have be. 
 
 After quitting Evan, Rose hied to her friend Jenny Graine, 
 and in the midst of sweet millinery talk, darted the odd 
 question, whether baronets or knights ever were tradesmen : 
 to which Scottish Jenny, entirely putting aside the shades of 
 beatified aldermen and the illustrious list of mayors that 
 have welcomed royalty, replied that it was a thing quite im- 
 possible. Eose then wished to know if tailors were thought 
 worse of than other tradesmen. Jenny, premising that she was 
 no authority, stated she imagined she had heard that they 
 were. 
 
 "Why? " said Eose, no doabt because she was desirous of 
 seeing justice dealt to that class. But Jenny's bosom was a 
 smooth reflector of facts alone. 
 
 Rose pondered, and said with compressed eagerness, "Jenny, 
 do you think you could ever bring yourself to consent to care 
 at all for anybody belonging to them ? Tell me. " 
 
 Now Jenny had come to Beckley Court to meet William 
 Harvey : she was therefore sufiiciently soft to think she could 
 care for him whatever his origin were, and composed in the 
 
 o
 
 194 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 knowledge tbat no natal stigma was upon him to try the 
 strength of her affection. Designing to generalize, as women 
 do (and seem tempted to do most when they are secretly 
 speaking from their own emotions), she said, shyly moving 
 her shoulders, with a forefinger laying down the principle : 
 
 " You know, my dear, if one esteemed such a person very 
 very much, and were quite sure, without any doubt, that he 
 liked you in return — that is, completely liked you, and was 
 quite devoted, and made no concealment — I mean, if he was 
 very superior, and like other men — you know what I mean — 
 and had none of the cringing ways some of them have — I 
 mean, supposing him gay and handsome, taking " 
 
 "Just like William," Eose cut her short; and we may 
 guess her to have had some one in her head for her to con- 
 ceive that Jenny must be speaking of any one in particular. 
 
 A young lady who can have male friends, as well as friends 
 of her own sex, is not usually pressing and secret in her con- 
 fidences, possibly because such a young lady is not always 
 nursing baby-passions, and does not require her sex's coddling 
 and posseting to keep them alive. With Rose love will be 
 full grown when it is once avowed, and will know where to 
 go to be nourished. 
 
 " Merely an idea I had," she said to Jenny, who betrayed 
 her mental pre-occupation by putting the question for the 
 questions last. 
 
 Her Uncle Melville next received a visit from the restless 
 young woman. To him she spoke not a word of the inferior 
 classes, but as a special favourite of the diplomatist's, begged 
 a gift of him for her proximate birthday. Pushed to explain 
 what it was, she said, "It's something I want you to do for 
 a friend of mine, Uncle Mel." 
 
 The diplomatist instanced a few of the modest requests 
 little maids prefer to people they presume to have power to 
 grant. 
 
 "No, it's nothing nonsensical," said Rose; "I want you 
 to get my friend Evan an appointment. You can if you like, 
 you know. Uncle Mel, and it's a shame to make him lose his 
 time when he's young and does his work so well — that you 
 can't deny ! Now, please, be positive, Uncle Mel. You know 

 
 EVAN WRITES HIMSELF TAILOR. 195 
 
 I hate — I have no faith in your ' nous verrons.' Say yon 
 will, and at once." 
 
 The diplomatist pretended to have his weather-eye awa- 
 kened. 
 
 " You seem very anxious about feathering the young 
 follow' s nest, Rosey?" 
 
 " There," cried Rose, with the maiden's mature experience 
 of us, " isn't that just like men ? They never can beHeve you 
 can be entirely disinterested ! " 
 
 "Hulloa!" the diplomatist sung out, "I didn't sai/ any- 
 thing, Rosey." 
 
 She reddened at her hastiness, but retrieved it by saying : 
 
 " No, but you listen to your wife; you know you do, Uncle 
 Mel; and now there's Aunt Shorne and the other women, 
 who make you think just what they like about me, because 
 they hate Mama." 
 
 " Don't use strong words, my dear." 
 
 "But it's abominable! " cried Rose. " They asked Mama 
 yesterday what Evan's being here meant ? Why, of course, 
 he's your secretary, and my friend, and Mama very properly 
 stopped them, and so will I ! As for me, I intend to stay at 
 Beckley, I can tell you, dear old boy." Uncle Mel had a 
 soft arm round his neck, and was being fondled. "And I'm 
 not going to be bred up to go into a harem, you may be sure." 
 
 The diplomatist whistled, " You talk your mother vnth a 
 vengeance, Rosey." 
 
 "And she's the only sensible woman I know," said Rose. 
 " Now promise me — in earnest. Don't let them mislead you, 
 for you know you're quite a child, out of your politics, and I 
 shall take you in hand myself. Why, now, think, Uncle 
 Mel ! wouldn't any girl, as silly as they make me out, hold 
 her tongue — not talk of him, as I do ; and because I reaUy 
 do feel for him as a friend. See the difference between me 
 and Juley ! " 
 
 It was a sad sign if Rose was growing a bit of a hypocrite, 
 but this instanco of Juliana's different manner of showing 
 her feelxDgo towards Evan would have quieted suspicion in 
 shrewder men, for Juliana watched Evan's shadow, and it 
 was thought by two or three at Beckley Court, that Evan 
 
 02
 
 196 EVAN HARRmOTON. 
 
 would be conferring a benefit on all by carrying off the 
 romantically-inclined but little presentable young lady. 
 
 The diplomatist, with a placid " Well, well ! " ultimately 
 promised to do his best for Eose's friend, and then Eose said, 
 " Now I leave you to the Countess," and went and sat with 
 her mother and Drummond Forth. The latter was strange in 
 his conduct to Evan. While blaming Laxley's unmannered 
 behaviour, he seemed to think that Laxley had grounds for 
 it, and treated Evan with a sort of cynical deference that 
 had, for the last couple of days, exasperated Eose. 
 
 " Mama, you must speak to Ferdinand," she burst upon 
 the conversation, "Drummond is afraid to — he can stand by 
 and see my friend insulted. Ferdinand is insufferable with 
 his pride — he's jealous of everybody who has manners, and 
 Drummond approves him, and I will not bear it." 
 
 Lady Jocelyn hated household worries, and quietly re- 
 marked that the young men must fight it out together. 
 
 "!N^o, but it's your duty to interfere, Mama," said Eose; 
 " and I know you will when I tell you that Ferdinand 
 declares my friend Evan is a tradesman — beneath his notice. 
 Why, it insults me ! " 
 
 Lady Jocelyn looked out from a lofty window on such 
 veritable squabbles of boys and girls as Eose revealed. 
 
 " Can't you help them to run on smoothly Avhile they're 
 here?" she said to Drummond, and he related the scene at 
 the Green Dragon. 
 
 " I think I heard he was the son of Sir Something 
 Harrington, Devonshire people," said Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 " Yes, he is," cried Eose, " or closely related. I'm sure I 
 understood the Countess that it was so. She brought the 
 paper with the death in it to us in London, and shed tears 
 over it." 
 
 " She showed it in the paper, and shed tears over it ? " 
 said Drummond, repressing an inclination to laugh. "Was 
 her father's title given in full ? " 
 
 "Sir Abraham Harrington," replied Eose. "I think she 
 said father, if the word wasn't too common-place for her." 
 
 " You can ask old Tom when he comes, if you are anxious 
 to know," said Drummond to her ladyship. "His brother
 
 EVAN WRITES HIMSELF TAILOR. 197 
 
 married one of the sisters. By the way, he's coming, too, 
 Harrington ought really to clear up the mystery." 
 
 "Now you're sneering, Drummond," said Hose: "for you 
 know there's no mystery to clear up." 
 
 Drummond and Lady Jocelyn began talking of old Tom 
 Cogglesby, whom, it appeared, the former knew intimately, 
 and the latter had known. 
 
 " The Cogglesby s are sons of a cobbler. Rose," said Lady 
 Jocelyn. " You must try and be civil to them." 
 
 " Of course I shall, Mama," Hose answered,' seriously. 
 
 "And help the poor Countess to bear their presence as well 
 as possible," said Drummond. " The Harringtons have had 
 to mourn a dreadful mesalliance. Pity the Countess ! " 
 
 " Oh I the Countess ! the Countess ! " exclaimed Rose to 
 Drummond' s pathetic shake of the head. She and Drummond 
 were fully agreed about the Countess; Drummond mimicking 
 the lady: " In verity, she is most mellifluous ! " while Rose 
 sugared her lips and leaned gracefully forward with " Be 
 Saldar, let me petition you — since we must endure our title — 
 since it is not to be your Louisa? " and her eyes sought the 
 ceiling, and her hand slowly melted into her drapery, as the 
 Countess was wont to effect it. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn laughed, but said : " You're too hard upon 
 the Countess. The female euphuist is not to be met with 
 every day. It's a different kind from the Precieuse. She is 
 not a Precieuse. She has made a capital selection of her 
 vocabulary from Johnson, and does not work it badly, if we 
 may judge by Harry and Melville. Euphuism in ' woman ' 
 is the popular ideal of a Duchess. She has it by nature, or 
 she has studied it : and if so, you must respect her abilities.'' 
 
 "Yes — Harry!" said Rose, who was angry at a loss of 
 influence over her rough brother, " any one could manage 
 Harry ! and Uncle Mel's a goose. You should see what a 
 ' female euphuist ' Dorry is getting. She says in the Coun- 
 tess's hearing : ' Rose ! I should in verity wish to play, if it 
 were pleasing to my sweet cousin ? ' I'm ready to die with 
 laughing. I don't do it, Mama." 
 
 The Countess, thus being discussed, was closeted with old 
 Mrs. Bonner: not idle. Like Hannibal in Italy, she had
 
 198 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 crossed her Alps in attaining Beckley Court, and here in the 
 enemy's country the wary general found herself under the 
 necessity of throwing up entrenchments to fly to in case of 
 defeat. Sir Abraham Harrington of Torquay, who had helped 
 her to cross the Alps, became a formidable barrier against her 
 return. 
 
 Meantime Evan was riding over to Fallowfield, and as he 
 rode under black visions between the hedgeways crowned 
 with their hop-garlands, a fragrance of roses saluted his 
 nostril, and he called to mind the red and the white the 
 peerless representative of the two had given him, and which 
 he had thrust sullenly in his breast-pocket : and he drew 
 them out to look at them reproachfully and sigh farewell to 
 all the roses of life, when in company with them he found in 
 his hand the forgotten letter delivered to him on the cricket- 
 field the day of the memorable match. He smelt at the roses, 
 and turned the letter this way and that. His name was cor- 
 rectly worded on the outside. "With an odd reluctance to 
 open it, he kept trifling over the flowers, and then broke the 
 broad seal, and these are the words that met his eyes : — 
 
 "Mr. Evan Hakkington. 
 
 " You have made up your mind to be a tailor, instead of a 
 Tomnoddy. You're right. Not too many men in the world — 
 plenty of nincompoops. 
 
 " Don't be made a weathercock of by a parcel of women. 
 I want to find a man worth something. If you go on with 
 it, you shall end by riding in your carriage, and cutting it as 
 fine as any of them. I'll take care your belly is not punished 
 while you're about it. 
 
 " From the time your name is over your shop, I give you 
 300^. per annum. 
 
 " Or stop. There's nine of you. They shall have 40?. per 
 annum apiece, 9 times 40, eh P That's better than 300?., if 
 you know how to reckon. Don't you wish it was ninety. 
 nine tailors to a man ! I could do that too, and it would 
 not break me; so don't be a proud young ass, or I'll throw 
 my money to the geese. Lots of them in the world. How 
 many geese to a tailor p
 
 EVAN WRITES HIMSELF TAILOR. 199 
 
 "Go on for five years, and I double it. 
 
 " Give it up, and I give you up. 
 
 " No question about me. The first tailor can be paid his 
 40?. in advance, by applying at the offices of Messrs. Grist, 
 Gray's Inn Square, Gray's Inn. Let him say he is tailor 
 No. 1, and show this letter, signed Agreed, with your name 
 in full at bottom. This will do — money will be paid — no 
 questions one side or other. So on — the whole nine. The 
 end of the year they can give a dinner to their acquaintance. 
 Send in bill to Messrs. Grist. 
 
 " The advice to you to take the cash according to terms 
 mentioned is advice of 
 
 "A Fkiend." 
 
 " P.S. You shall have your wine. Consult among your- 
 selves, and carry it by majority what wine it's to be. Five 
 carries it. Dozen and half per tailor, per annum — that's the 
 limit." 
 
 It was certainly a very hot day. The pores of his skin 
 were prickling, and his face was fiery ; and yet he increased 
 his pace, and broke into a wild gallop for a mile or so ; then 
 suddenly turned his horse's head back for Beckley. The 
 secret of which evolution was, that he had caught the idea 
 of a plotted insult of Laxley's in the letter, for when the 
 blood is up we are drawn the way the tide sets strongest, and 
 Evan was prepared to swear that Laxley had written the 
 letter, because he was burning to chastise the man who had 
 injured him with Rose. 
 
 Sure that he was about to confirm his suspicion, he read it 
 again, gazed upon Beckley Court in the sultry light, and 
 turned for Fallowfield once more, devising to consult Mr. John 
 Raikes on the subject. 
 
 The letter had a smack of crabbed age hardly counterfeit. 
 The savour of an old eccentric's sour generosity was there, 
 Evan fell into bitter laughter at the idea of Rose glancing 
 over his shoulder and asking him what nine of him to a man 
 meant. He heard her clear voice pursuing him. He could 
 not get away from the mocking sound of Rose beseeching him
 
 200 EVAN HAREINGTON. 
 
 to instruct her on that point. How if the letter were 
 genuine ? He began to abhor the sight and touch of the 
 paper, for it struck division cold as death between him and 
 his darling. He saw now the immeasurable hopes his resi- 
 dence at Beckley had lured him to. Rose had slightly awa- 
 kened him : this letter was blank day to his soul. He saw 
 the squalid shop, the good, stern, barren-spirited mother, the 
 changeless drudgery, the existence which seemed indeed no 
 better than what the ninth of a man was fit for. The 
 influence of his mother came on him once more. Dared he 
 reject the gift if true ? No spark of gratitude could he feel, 
 but chained, dragged at the heels of his fate, he submitted to 
 think it true ; resolving the next moment that it was a fabri- 
 cation and a trap : but he flung away the roses. 
 
 As idle as a painted cavalier upon a painted drop-scene, 
 the figure of Mr. John Eaikes was to be observed leaning 
 with crossed legs against a shady pillar of the Green Dragon ; 
 eyeing alternately, vsdth an indiff"erence he did not care to 
 conceal, the assiduous pecking in the dust of some cocks and 
 hens that had strayed from the yard of the inn, and the 
 sleepy blinking in the sun of an old dog at his feet : nor did 
 Evan's appearance discompose the sad sedateness of his de- 
 meanour. 
 
 " Yes; I am here still," he answered Evan's greeting, 
 with a flaccid gesture. " Don't excite me too much. A 
 little at a time. I can't bear it ! " 
 
 " How now ? "What is it now, Jack ? " said Evan. 
 
 Mr. Eaikes pointed at the dog. "I've made a bet with 
 myself he won't wag his tail within the next ten minutes. 
 The tail is that animal's tongue. 'Tis thus we talk. I beg 
 of you, Harrington, to remain silent for both our sakes." 
 
 Evan was induced to look at the dog, and the dog looked at 
 him, and gently moved his tail. 
 
 "I've lost!" cried Jack, in languid anguish. "He's 
 getting excited. He'll go mad. We're not accustomed to 
 this in Fallowfield." 
 
 Evan dismounted, and was going to tell him the news he 
 had for him, when his attention was distracted by the sight 
 of Rose's maid, Polly Wheedle, splendidly boimeted, who
 
 EVAN WRITES HIMSELF TAILOR. 201 
 
 slipped past them into the inn; after repulsing Jack's careless 
 attempt to caress her chin ; which caused Jack to tell Evan 
 that he could not get on without the society of intellectual 
 women. 
 
 Evan called a boy to hold the horse. 
 
 " Have you seen her before, Jack ? " 
 
 In the tones of tragedy Jack replied : " Once. Your pen- 
 sioner up-stairs she comes to visit. I do suspect there kin- 
 ship is betwixt them. Ay ! one might swear them sisters. 
 Plainly, Harrington, her soul is prosaic. I have told her I 
 am fain, but that fate is against it. She has advised me to 
 get a new hat before I consider the question. These country 
 creatures ai-e all for show ! She's a relief to the monotony 
 of the petrified street — the old man with the brown-gaitered 
 legs and the doubled-up old woman with the crutch. Heigho ! 
 I heard the London horn this morning." 
 
 Evan thrust the letter in his hands, telling him to read 
 and form an opinion on it, and went in the track of Miss 
 Wheedle. 
 
 Mr. E,aikes resumed his station against the pillar, and held 
 the letter out on a level with his thigh. Acting (as it was 
 his nature to do off the stage), he had not exaggerated his 
 profound melancholy. Of a light soil and with a tropical 
 temperament, he had exhausted all lively recollection of his 
 brilliant career, and, in the short time since Evan had parted 
 with him, sunk abjectly down into the belief that he was 
 fixed in Eallowfield for life. His spirit pined for agitation 
 and events. The horn of the London coach had sounded 
 distant metropolitan glories in the ears of the exile in rustic 
 parts. 
 
 Sighing heavily. Jack opened the letter, in simple obe- 
 dience to the wishes of his friend ; for he would have pre- 
 ferred to stand contemplating his own state of hopeless stagna- 
 tion. The sceptical expression he put on when he had read 
 the letter through must not deceive us. Mr. John Raikes had 
 dreamed of a beneficent eccentric old gentleman for many 
 years: one against whom, haply, he had bumped in a crowded 
 thoroughfare, and had with cordial politeness begged pardon 
 of; had then picked up his walking-stick; restored it, ventur-
 
 202 EVAN HARRINGTOK 
 
 in g a witty remark; retired, accidentally dropping his card- 
 case ; subsequently, to his astonishment and gratification, 
 receiving a pregnant missive from that old gentleman's 
 lawyer. Or it so happened that Mr. Eaikes met the old 
 gentleman at a tavern, and, by the exercise of a signal dexte- 
 rity, relieved him from a bone in his throat, and reluctantly 
 imparted his address on issuing from the said tavern. Or 
 perhaps it was a lonely highway where the old gentleman 
 walked, and Mr. John Raikes had his name in the papers for 
 a deed of heroism, nor was man ungrateful. Since he had 
 eaten up his uncle, this old gentleman of his dreams walked 
 in town and country — only, and alas ! Mr. Eaikes could 
 never encounter him in the flesh. The muscles of his face, 
 therefore, are no index to the real feelings of Mr. Raikes when 
 he had thoroughly mastered the contents of the letter, and 
 reflected that the dream of his luck — his angelic old gen- 
 tleman — had gone and wantonly bestowed himself upon 
 Evan Harrington, instead of the expectant and far worthier 
 John Raikes. "Worthier inasmuch as he gave him cre- 
 dence for existing long ere he knew of him and beheld 
 him manifest. 
 
 Mr. Raikes retreated to the vacant parlour of the Green 
 Dragon, and there Evan found him staring at the unfolded 
 letter, his head between his cramped fists, with a desperate 
 contraction of his mouth. Evan was troubled by what he had 
 seen up-stairs, and did not speak till Jack looked up and 
 said, " Oh, there your are." 
 
 " Well, what do you think. Jack ? " 
 
 " Yes — it's all right," Mr. Raikes rejoined in most matter- 
 of-course tone, and then he stepped to the window, and puffed 
 a very deep breath indeed, and glanced from the straight line 
 of the street to the heavens, with whom, injured as he was, 
 he felt more at home now that he knew them capable of 
 miracles. 
 
 " Is it a bad joke played upon me ? " said Evan. 
 
 Mr. Raikes upset a chair. "It's quite childish. You're 
 made a gentleman for life, and you ask if it's a joke played 
 upon you ! It's perfectly maddening ! There — there goes 
 my hat!"
 
 EVAN WRITES HIMSELF TAILOR. 203 
 
 With a vehement kick, Mr. Raikes despatched his ancient 
 head gear to the other end of the room, saying that he must 
 have some wine, and would ; and very disdainful was his look 
 at Evan, when the latter attempted to reason him into eco- 
 nomy. He ordered the wine ; drank a glass, which coloured 
 a new mood in him ; and affecting a practical manner, said : 
 
 "I confess I have been a little hurt with you, Harrington. 
 You left me stranded on the desert isle. I thought myself 
 abandoned. I thought I should never see anything but the 
 lengthening of an endless bill on my landlady's face — my sole 
 planet. I was resigned till I heard my friend ' to-lootl ' this 
 morning. He kindled recollection. I drank a pint of ale 
 bang off to drown him, and still do feel the wretch's dying 
 kicks. But, hem ! this is a tidy Port, and that was a freshish 
 sort of girl that you were riding with when we parted last ! 
 She laughs like the true metal. I suppose you know it's the 
 identical damsel I met the day before, and owe it to for the 
 downs — ^I've a compliment ready made for her. Well, you 
 can stick up to her now." 
 
 "Will you speak seriously," said Evan. "What is 
 your idea of this letter ? " 
 
 " I have," returned Mr. Raikes, beginning to warm to his 
 wine, " typified my ideas eloquently enough, Harrington, 
 if you weren't the prosiest old mortal that ever hood-winked 
 Fortune. I tell you you may marry the girl : I kick out the 
 crown of my hat. I can do no more." 
 
 " You really think it written in good faith ? " 
 
 " Look here." Mr. Raikes put on a calmness. " You got 
 up the other night, and said you were a tailor — a devotee of 
 the cabbage and the goose. Why the notion didn't strike me 
 is extraordinary — I ought to have known my man. However, 
 the old gentleman who gave the supper — he's evidently one 
 of your beastly rich old ruffianly republicans — spent part 
 of his time in America, I dare say. Put two and two 
 together." 
 
 " You're too deep for me, Jack," said Evan. 
 
 " Oh, 'you can afford to pun," Jack pursued, painfully 
 repressing his wrath at Evan's dulness and luck. 
 
 But as Harrington desired plain prose, Mr. Raikes tamed
 
 204 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 his imagination to deliver it. He pointed distinctly at the 
 old gentleman who gave the supper as the -writer of the letter. 
 Evan, in return, confided to him his history and present posi- 
 tion, and Mr. Raikes, without cooling to his fortunate friend, 
 hecame a trifle patronizing. 
 
 " You said your father — I think I remember at old Cud- 
 ford's — was a cavalry officer, a bold dragoon? " 
 
 " I did," replied Evan. " I told a lie." 
 
 Mr. Raikes whistled. " That's very wrong, you know, 
 Harrington." 
 
 " Yes. I'm more ashamed of the lie than of the fact. 
 Oblige me by not reverting to the subject. To tell you the 
 ti-uth," added Evan, with frank bitterness, " I don't like the 
 name." 
 
 Quoth Jack : " Truly it has a tang. I should have to 
 drink at somebody else's expense to get up the courage to call 
 myself a sn — a shears-man, say." 
 
 Evan had to bear with the sting of similar observations tiU 
 he begged Jack to tell him the condition of his father, and 
 the limit of the distance between them. 
 
 " Pardon me, pardon me," said Jack. " I forget myself." 
 
 Evan firmly repeated his request for the information. 
 
 " He is an officer, Harrington." 
 
 " In what regiment ? " 
 
 " Government employ, friend Harrington." 
 
 "Of course. Where?" 
 
 " In the Customs — high up." 
 
 Mr. Raikes stopped from the announcement to plunge at 
 Evan's hand and shake it warmly, assuring him that he did 
 not measure the difference between them ; adding, with a 
 significant nod, " We rank from our mother ; " as if the 
 Customs scarcely satisfied the Raikes-brood. 
 
 Then they talked over the singular letter uninterruptedly, 
 and Evan, wanting money for the girl up-stairs, for Jack's 
 bill at the Green Dragon, and for his own immediate require- 
 ments, and with the bee buzzing of Rose in his ears : " She 
 does not love you — she despises you," consented ultimately to 
 sign his name to it, and despatch Jack forthwith to Messrs. 
 Grist, a prospect that brought wild outcries of " Alarums and 
 
 ll
 
 EVAN WRITES HIMSELF TAILOR. 205 
 
 Excursions ! — hautboys ! " from the dramatic reminiscences 
 of Mr. John Eaikes. 
 
 "You'll find it's an imposition," said Evan; for having 
 here signed the death-warrant of his love, he passionately 
 hoped it might be moonshine. 
 
 " Ko more an imposition than it's 50 of Virgil," quoth the 
 rejected usher. 
 
 " It must be a plot," said Evan. 
 
 "It's the best joke that will be made in my time," said 
 Mr. Eaikes, rubbing his hands. 
 
 "And now listen to your luck," said Evan; " I wish mine 
 were like it ! " and Jack heard of Lady Jocelyn's ofier. He 
 heard also that the young lady he was to instruct was an heir- 
 ess, and immediately inspected his garments, and showed the 
 sacred necessity there was for him to refit in London, under 
 the hands of scientific tailors. Evan then wrote him an 
 introduction to Mr. Groren, counted out the contents of his 
 purse (which Jack had reduced in his study of the pastoral 
 game of skittles, he confessed), and calculatedin a niggardly 
 way, how far it would go to supply Jack's wants ; sighing, 
 as he did it, to think of Jack installed at Beckley Coui't, 
 while Jack, comparing his luck with Evan's, had discovered 
 it to be dismally inferior. 
 
 " Oh, confound those bellows you keep blowing ! " he ex- 
 claimed. ' ' I wish to be decently polite, Harrington, but you 
 annoy me. Excuse me, pray, but the most unexampled case 
 of a lucky beggar that ever was known — and to hear him 
 panting and ready to whimper — it's outrageous. You've 
 only to put up j^ourname, and there you are — an independent 
 gentleman ! By Jove ! this isn't such a dull world. John 
 Eaikes ! thou livest in times. I feel warm in the sun of your 
 prosperity, Harrington. Now listen to me. Propound thou 
 no inquiries anywhere about the old fellow who gave the 
 supper. Humour his whim — he won't have it. All Eallow- 
 field is paid to keep him secret. I know it for a fact. I 
 plied my rustic friends every night. ' Eat you yer victuals, 
 and drink yer beer, and none o' yer pry in' s and peerin's 
 among we!' That's my rebuff from Earmer Broadmead. And 
 that old boy knows more than he will tell. / saw his cunning
 
 206 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 old eye cock. Be silent, Harrington. Let discretion be the 
 seal of thy luck." 
 
 " You can reckon on my silence," said Evan. "I believe 
 in no such folly. Men don't do these things." 
 
 " Ha! " went Mr. Eaikes, contemptuously. 
 
 Of the two he was the foolisher fellow ; but quacks have 
 cured incomprehensible maladies, and foolish fellows have 
 au instinct for eccentric actions. 
 
 Telling Jack to finish the wine, Evan rose to go. 
 
 " Did you order the horse to be fed ? " 
 
 " Did I order the feeding of the horse ? " said Jack, rising 
 and yawning. " No, I forgot him. "Who can think of horses 
 now? " 
 
 "Poor brute!" muttered Evan, and went out to see to 
 him. 
 
 "Poor brute, indeed!" echoed Mr. Eaikes, indignantly; 
 for to have leisure to pity an animal, one must, according to 
 his ideas, be on a lofty elevation of luck, and Evan's conceal- 
 ment of his exultation was a piece of hypocrisy that offended 
 him. 
 
 The ostler fortunately had required no instructions to give 
 the horse a good feed of corn. Evan mounted, and rode out 
 of the yard to where Jack was standing, bare-headed, in his 
 old posture against the pillar, of which the shade had rounded, 
 and the evening sun shone full on him over a black cloud. 
 He now looked calmly gay. 
 
 "I'm laughing at the agricultural Broadmead!" he said: 
 " ' None o' yer pry in' a and peerin's ! ' There is no middle 
 grade in rustic respect. You're their lord, or you're their 
 equal. So it is. Though I believe he thought me more than 
 mortal. He thought my powers of amusing prodigious. ' Dang 
 'un, he do maak a chap laugh ! ' Well, Harrington, that sort 
 of homage isn't much, I admit." 
 
 " Eh, where are you now? " said Evan. 
 
 " Merely reflecting that these rustics are acute in their 
 way," Jack pursued. " I'm not sure I shan't feel a touch 
 of regret " 
 
 Mr. Eaikes rubbed his forehead like one perplexed by self- 
 contemplation.
 
 EVAN WRITES HIMSELF TAILOR. 207 
 
 •'I fancy," said Evan, trying to be shrewd, "jou're a 
 man to be always regretting the day you've left behind 
 
 you." 
 
 Too deep in himself to answer, if indeed he did not despise 
 his friend's little penetrative insight, Mr. Eaikes silently 
 accepted his last instructions about the presentation of the 
 letter to Messrs. Grist, and even condescended to be quiet 
 while the behaviour he was bound to adopt as tutor to a 
 young lady was outlined for him by his companion. 
 
 " Even so," he assented, abstractedly. "As you observe. 
 Just as you observe. Exactly. The poets are not such fools 
 as you take them to be, Harrington ! " 
 
 Evan knitted a puzzled brow at Jack, beneath him. 
 
 Jack pursued: "There's something in a pastoral life, 
 after all." 
 
 " Pastoral ! " muttered Evan. " I was speaking of you at 
 Beckley, and hope when you're there you won't make me 
 regret my introduction of you. Keep your mind on old Cud- 
 ford's mutton-bone." 
 
 " I perfectly understood you," said Jack, " I'm presumed 
 to be in luck. Ingratitude is not my fault — I'm afraid ambi- 
 tion is ! " 
 
 These remarks appeared to Evan utterly random and dis- 
 traught, and he grew impatient. 
 
 It was perhaps unphilosophical to be so, but who can com- 
 prehend the flights of an imaginative mind built ui^on a mer- 
 curial temperament ? In rapidity it rivals any force in nature, 
 and 'weird' is the accuracy with which, when it once has an 
 heiress in view, however great the distance separating them, 
 it will hit that rifle-mark dead in the centre. The head 
 whirls describing it. Nothing in Eastern romance eclipsed 
 the marvels that were possible in the brain of John Eaikes. 
 And he, moreover, had just been drinking Port, and had seen 
 his dream of a miracle verified. 
 
 "When, therefore, Mr. Eaikes, with a kindly forlorn smile, 
 full of wistful regret turned his finger towards the Green 
 Dragon, and said : " Depend upon it, Harrington, there's 
 many a large landed proprietor envies the man who lives 
 at his ease in a comfortable old inn like that I " it was as the
 
 208 EVAN HAREINGTON. 
 
 wind that blew to Evan ; not a luminous revelation of charac- 
 ter ; and lie gave Jack a curt good-bye. 
 
 "Whither, with his blood warmed by the wine and his foot 
 upon one fulfilled miracle, had Mr, John Eaikes shot? "What 
 did he regret ? Perhaps it was his nature to cling to any- 
 thing he was relinquishing, and he accused his invitation to 
 Beckley Court, and the young heire.^s tiiere, as the cause of it. 
 Now that he had to move, he may have desired to stay; and 
 the wish to stay may have forced him to think that nothing 
 but a great luck could expel from such easy quarters. Magnify 
 these and consecutive considerations immensely, and you ap- 
 proach to a view of the mind of Raikes. 
 
 But he looked sad, and Evan was sorry for him, and think- 
 ing that he had been rather sharp at parting, turned half- 
 way down the street to wave his hand, and lo, John Raikes 
 was circling both arms in air madly : he had undergone a 
 fresh change ; for now that they were separated, Mr. Raikes 
 no longer compared their diverse lucks, but joined both in one 
 intoxicating cordial draught ; and the last sight of him showed 
 him marching up and down in front of the inn, quick step, 
 with inflated cheeks, and his two fists in the form of a 
 trumpet at his mouth, blowing jubilee. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 IS WHICH EVAN CAXLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAlf. 
 
 The laughable contrast of John Raikes melancholy and 
 John Raikes revived, lingered with Evan as he rode out of 
 Eallowfield, till he laughed himself into a sombre fit, and 
 read the letter again in memory. Genuine, or a joke of the 
 enemy, it spoke wakening facts to him. He leapt from the 
 spell Rose had encircled him with. Strange that he should 
 have rushed into that dream with his eyes open! But he 
 was fully awake now. He would speak his last farewell to 
 her, and so end the earthly happiness he paid for in deep 
 humiliation, and depart into that gray cold mist where his
 
 EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN. 20y 
 
 duty lay. It is thus that young men occasionally design to 
 burst from the circle of the passions, and think that they 
 have done it, when indeed they are but making the circle 
 more swiftly. Here was Evan mouthing his farewell to 
 Rose, using phrases so profoundly humble, that a listener 
 would have taken them for bitter ii'ony. He said adieu to 
 her, — pronouncing it with a pathos such as might chance 
 to melt scornful princesses. He tried to be honest, and was 
 as much so as his disease permitted. 
 
 The black cloud had swallowed the sun ; and turning off to 
 the short cut across the downs, Evan soon rode between the 
 wind and the storm. He could see the heavy burden breast- 
 ing the beacon-point, round which curled leaden arms, and a 
 low internal growl saluted him advancing. The horse laid 
 back his ears. A last gust from the opposing quarter shook 
 the furzes and the clumps of long pale grass, and straight fell 
 columns of rattling white rain, and in a minute he was closed 
 in by a hissing ring. Men thus pelted abandon without pro- 
 test the hope of retaining a dry particle of clothing on their 
 persons. Completely drenched, the track lost, everything in 
 dense ■ gloom beyond the white enclosure that moved with 
 him, Evan flung the reins to the horse, and curiously watched 
 him footing on ; for physical discomfort balanced his mental 
 perturbation, and he who had just been chafing was now quite 
 calm. 
 
 "Was that a shepherd crouched under the thorn? The place 
 betokened a shepherd, but it really looked like a bundle of 
 the opposite sex ; and it proved to be a woman gathered up 
 with her gown over her head. Apparently, Mr. Evan Har- 
 rington was destined for these encounters. The thunder 
 rolled as he stopped by her side, and called out to her. She 
 heard him, for she made a movement, but without sufficiently 
 disengaging her head of its covering to show him a part of 
 her face. 
 
 Bellowing against the thunder, Evan bade her throw back 
 her garment, and stand and give him up her arms, that he 
 might lift her on the horse behind him. 
 
 There came a muffl.ed answer, on a big sob, as it seemed 
 And as if heaven paused to hear, the storm was mute.
 
 210 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 Could he have heard correctly ? The words he fancied he 
 had heard were : 
 
 " Best bonnet." 
 
 The elements undoubtedly had matter for volleys of 
 laughter, for the moment the faint squeal had ceased, they 
 crashed deep and long from end to end, like a table of Titans 
 passing a jest. 
 
 B,ain-drops, hard as hail, were spattering a pool on her 
 head. Evan stooped his shoulder, seized the soaked garment, 
 and pulled it back, revealing the featui-es of Polly Wheedle, 
 and the splendid bonnet in ruins — all limp and stained. 
 
 Polly blinked at him penitentially. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Harrington; Oh, ain't I punished! " she whim- 
 pered. 
 
 In truth, the maid resembled a well-watered poppy. 
 
 Evan told her to stand up close to the horse, and Polly 
 stood up close, looking like a creature that expected a whip- 
 ping. She was suffering, poor thing, from that abject sense 
 of the lack of a circumference, which takes the pride out of 
 women more than anything. Note, that in. all material 
 fashions, as in all moral observances, women demand -a cir- 
 cumference, and enlarge it more and more as civilization 
 advances. Eespect the mighty instinct, however mysterious 
 it seem. 
 ' " Oh, Mr. Harrington, don't laugh at me," said Polly. 
 
 Evan assured her that he was seriously examining her 
 bonnet. 
 
 "It's the bonnet of a draggletail," said Polly, giving up 
 her arms, and biting her under lip for the lift. 
 
 "With some display of strength, Evan got the lean creature 
 up behind him, and Polly settled there, and squeezed him 
 tightly with her arms, excusing the liberty she took. 
 
 They mounted the beacon, and rode along the ridge whence 
 the West became visible, and a washed edge of red over Beck- 
 ley church spire and the woods of Beckley Court. 
 
 "And what have you been doing to be punished? What 
 brought you here?" said Evan. 
 
 " Somebody drove me to Eallowfield to see my poor sister 
 fiusan," returned Polly, half crying.
 
 EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN. 211 
 
 " "Well, did he bring you here and leave you ? " 
 
 " No : he wasn't true to his appointment the moment I 
 wanted to go back ; and I, to pay him out, I determined I'd 
 walk it where he shouldn't overtake me, and on came the 
 etorm .... And my gown spoilt, and such a bonnet! " 
 
 " Who was the somebody ? " 
 
 " He's a Mr. Nicholas Trim, sir." 
 
 " Mr. Nicholas Trim will be very unhappy, I should 
 think." 
 
 " Yes, that's one comfort," said Polly ruefully, drying her 
 eyes. 
 
 Closely surrounding a young man as a young woman 
 must be when both are on the same horse, they, as a rule, 
 talk confidentially together in a very short time. His "Are 
 you cold?" when Polly shivered, and her "Oh, no; not 
 very," and a slight screwing of her body up to him, as she 
 spoke, to assure him and herself of it, soon made them 
 intimate. 
 
 "I think Mr. Nicholas Prim mustn't see us riding into 
 Beckley," said Evan. 
 
 "Oh, my gracious! Ought I to get down, sir?" Polly 
 made no move, however. 
 
 "Is he jealous? " 
 
 " Only when I make him, he is." 
 
 " That's very naughty of you." 
 
 "Yes, I know it is — all the Wheedles are. Mother says, 
 we never go right till we've once got in a pickle." 
 
 "You ought to go right from this hour," said Evan. 
 
 "It's 'dizenzy does it," said Polly. "And then we're 
 ashamed to show it. My poor Susan went to stay with her 
 aunt at Bodley, and then at our cousin's at Hillford, and then 
 she was off to Lymport to drown her poor self, I do believe, 
 when you met her. And all because we can't bear to be seen 
 when we're in any of our pickles. I wish you wouldn't look 
 at me, Mr. Harrington." 
 
 " You look very pretty." 
 
 " It's quite impossible I can now," said Polly, with a 
 Avretched effort to spread open her collar. " I can see myself 
 a fi'ight, like my Miss Rose did, making a face in the looking- 
 
 r 2
 
 212 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 glass when I was undressing her last night. But, do you 
 know, I would much rather Nicholas saw us than somebody." 
 
 "Who's that?" 
 
 " Miss Bonner. She'd never forgive me." 
 
 "Is she so strict?" 
 
 "She only uses servants for spies," said Polly. "And 
 since my Miss Eose come — though I'm up a step — I'm still a 
 servant, and Miss Bonner'd be in a fury to see my — though 
 I'm sure we're quite respectable, Mr. Harrington — my having 
 hold of you as I'm obliged to, and can't help myself. But 
 she'd say I ought to tumble off rather than touch her engaged 
 with a little finger." 
 
 " Her engaged ? " cried Evan. 
 
 "Ain't you, sir?" quoth Polly. "I understand you were 
 going to be, from my lady, the Countess. We aU. think so at 
 Beckley. Why, look how Miss Bonner looks at you, and 
 she's sure to have plenty of money." 
 
 This was Polly's innocent way of bringing out a word 
 about her own young mistress. 
 
 Evan controlled any denial of his pretensions to the hand 
 of Miss Bonner. He said : "Is it your mistress's habit to 
 make faces in the looking-glass ? " 
 
 "I'll tell you how it happened," said Polly. "But I'm 
 afraid I'm in your way, sir. Shall I get off now? " 
 
 "Not by any means," snid Evan. Make your arm 
 tighter." 
 
 " WiU that do ? " asked PoUy. 
 
 Evan looked round and met her appealing face, over which 
 the damp locks of hair straggled. The maid was fair : it was 
 fortunate that he was thinking of the mistress. 
 
 " Speak on," said Evan, but Polly put the question 
 whether her face did not want washing, and so earnestly that 
 he had to regard it again, and compromised the case by 
 saying that it wanted kissing by Nicholas Frim, which set 
 Polly's lips in a pout. 
 
 'I'm sure it wants kissing by nobody," she said, adding 
 with a spasm of passion : " Oh ! I know the colours of my 
 bonnet are all smeared over it, and I'm a dreadful fright." 
 
 Evan failed to adopt the proper measures to make Misa
 
 EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN. 213 
 
 Wheedle' s mind easy with regard to her appearance, and she 
 commenced her story rather languidly. 
 
 " My Miss Rose — what was it I was going to tell? Oh! — 
 my Miss Rose. Tou must know, Mr. Harrington, she's very 
 fond of managing ; I can see that, though I haven't known 
 her long before she gave up short frocks ; and she said to Mr. 
 Laxley, who's going to marry her some day, ' She didn't like 
 my lady, the Countess, taking Mr. Harry to herself like that.' 
 I can't abear to speak his name, but I suppose he's not a bit 
 more selfish than the rest of men. So Mr. Laxley said — ^just 
 like the jealousy of men — they needn't talk of women ! I'm 
 sure nobody can tell what we have to put up with. We 
 mustn't look out of this eye, or out of the other, but they're 
 up and — oh, dear me ! there's such a to-do as never was 
 known — all for nothing! — " 
 
 " My good girl ! " said Evan, recalling her to the subject- 
 matter with all the patience he could command. 
 
 " Where was I ? " Polly travelled meditatively back. " I 
 do feel a little cold." 
 
 " Come closer," said Evan. " Take this handkerchief — it's 
 the only dry thing I have — cover your chest with it." 
 
 " The shoulders feel wettest," Polly replied, " and they 
 can't be helped. I'll tie it round my neck, if you'll stop, 
 sir. There, now I'm warmer." 
 
 To show how concisely women can narrate when they feel 
 warmer, Polly started off: 
 
 " So, you know, Mr. Harrington, Mr. Laxley said — he said 
 to Miss Eose, ' You have taken her brother, and she has taken 
 yours.' And Miss Rose said, * That was her own business, 
 and nobody else's.' And Mr. Laxley said, * He was glad she 
 thought it a fair exchange.' / heard it all ! And then Miss 
 Rose said — for she can be in a passion about some things — 
 'What do you mean, Ferdinand,' was her words, *I insist 
 upon your speaking out.' Miss Rose always will call gentle- 
 men by their Christian names when she likes them ; that's 
 always a sign with her. And he wouldn't tell her. And 
 Miss Rose got awful angry, and she's clever, is my Miss Rose, 
 for what does she do, Mr. Harrington, but begins praising 
 you up so that she knew it must make him mad, only because
 
 214 EVAN HAKRINGTON. 
 
 men can't abide praise of another man when it's a woman that 
 says it— meaning, young lady; for my Miss Rose has my 
 respect, however familiar she lets herself be to us that she 
 likes. The others may go and drown themselves. Are yoa 
 took ill, sir?" 
 
 " No," said Evan, " I was only breathing." 
 
 " The doctors say it's bad to take such long breaths," 
 remarked artless Polly. "Perhaps my arms are pressing 
 you ? " 
 
 "It's the best thing they can do," murmured Evan, 
 dejectedly. 
 
 "What, sir?" 
 
 " Go and drown themselves ! " 
 
 Polly screwed her lips, as if she had a pin between them, 
 and continued : 
 
 " Miss Rose was quite sensible when she praised you as her 
 friend ; she meant it — every word ; and then sudden what 
 does Mr. Laxley do, but say you was something else besides 
 friend — worse or better ; and she was silent, which made him 
 savage, I could hear by his voice. And he said, Mr. Har- 
 rington, 'You meant it if she did not.' 'No,' says she, 'I 
 know better; he's as honest as the day.' Out he flew and 
 said such things : he said, Mr. Harrington, you Avasn't fit to 
 be Miss Rose's friend, even. Then she said, she heard he had 
 told lies about you to her Mama, and her aunts; but her 
 Mama, my lady, laughed at him, and she at her aunts. Then 
 he said you — oh, abominable of him ! " 
 
 "What did he say?" asked Evan, waking up. 
 
 "Why, if I were to tell my Miss Rose some things of 
 him," Polly went on, " she'd never so much as speak to him 
 another instant." 
 
 " What did he say ? " Evan repeated. 
 
 "I hate him!" cried Polly. "It's Mr. Laxley that 
 misleads Mr. Harry, who has got his good nature, and 
 means no more harm than he can help. Oh, I didn't hear 
 what he said of you, sir. Only I know it was abominable, 
 because Miss Rose was so vexed, and you were her dearest 
 friend." 
 
 " Well, and about the looking-glass? "
 
 EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN. 215 
 
 "That was at ni^ht, Mr. Harrington, when I was undress- 
 ing of her. Miss Rose has a beautiful figure, and no need of 
 lacing. But I'd better get down now." 
 
 "For heaven's sake, stay where you are." 
 
 " I tell her she stands as if she'd been drilled for a soldier," 
 Polly quietly continued. " You're squeezing my arm with 
 your elbow, Mr. Harrington. It didn't hurt me. So when 
 I had her nearly undressed, we were talking about this and 
 that, and you amongst 'em — and I, you know, rather like 
 you, sir, if you'll not think me too bold — she started off by 
 asking me what was the nickname people gave to tailors. It 
 was one of her whims. I told her they were called snips — 
 I'm off!" 
 
 Polly gave a shriek. The horse had reared as if violently 
 stung. 
 
 " Go on," said Evan. " Hold hard, and go on." 
 
 " Snips — Oh ! and I told her they were called snips. It is 
 a word that seems to make you hate the idea. I shouldn't 
 like to hear my intended called snip. Oh, he's going to 
 gallop ! " 
 
 And off in a gallop Polly was borne. 
 
 " Well," said Evan, " well ? " 
 
 "I can't, Mr. Harrington; I have to press you so," cried 
 Polly ; " and I'm bounced so — I shall bite my tongue." 
 
 After a sharp stretch, the horse fell to a canter, and then 
 trotted slowly, and allowed Polly to finish. 
 
 " So Miss Rose was standing sideways to the glass, and 
 she turned her neck, and just as I'd said ' snip,' I saw her 
 saying it in the glass ; and you never saw anything so funny- 
 It was enough to make anybody laugh ; but Miss Rose, she 
 seemed as if she couldn't forget how ugly it had made her 
 look. She covered her face with her hands, and she shud- 
 dered ! It is a word — snip I that makes you seem to despise 
 yourself." 
 
 Beckley was now in sight from the edge of the downs, 
 lying in its foliage dark under the grey sky backed by motion- 
 less mounds of vapour. Miss "Wheedle to her great surprise 
 was suddenly though safely dropped ; and on her return to the 
 ground the damsel instantly ' knew her place,' and curtsied
 
 216 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 becoming gratitude for his kindness ; but he was off in a fiery 
 gallop, the gall of Demogorgon in his soul. 
 
 "What's that the leaves of the proud old trees of Beckley 
 Court hiss as he sweeps beneath them ? "What has suddenly 
 cut him short ? Is he diminished in stature ? Are the 
 lackeys sneering? The storm that has passed has marvel- 
 lously chilled the air. 
 
 His sister, the Countess, once explained to him what "Demo- 
 gorgon was, in the sensation it entailed. " You are skinned 
 alive ! " said the Countess. Evan was skinned alive. Fly, 
 wretched young man ! Summon your pride, and fly ! Ply, 
 noble youth, for whom storms specially travel to tell you that 
 your mistress makes faces in the looking-glass ! Fly where 
 human lips and noses are not scornfully distorted, and get 
 thee a new skin, and grow and attain to thy natural height in 
 a more genial sphere ! You, ladies and gentlemen, who may 
 have had a matter to conceal, and find that it is oozing out : 
 you, whose skeleton is seen stalking beside you, you know 
 what it is to be breathed upon : you, too, are skinned alive : 
 but this miserable youth is not onlj^ flayed, he is doomed 
 calmly to contemplate the hideous image of himself burning 
 on the face of her he loves ; making beauty ghastly. In vain 
 — for he is two hours behind the dinner-bell — Mr. Burley, 
 the butler, bows and offers him viands and wine. How can 
 he eat, with the phantom of Eose there, covering her head, 
 shuddering, loathing him ? But he must appear in company : 
 he has a coat, if he has not a skin. Let him button it, and 
 march boldly. Our comedies are frequently youth's trage- 
 dies. 'We will smile reservedly as we mark Mr. Evan Har- 
 rington step into the midst of the fair society of the drawing- 
 room. Rose is at the piano. Near her reclines the Countess 
 de Saldar, fanning the languors from her cheeks, with a word 
 for the diplomatist on one side, a whisper for Sir John Loring 
 on the other, and a very quiet pair of eyes for everybody. 
 Providence, she is sure, is keeping watch to shield her sensi- 
 tive cuticle ; and she is besides exquisitely happy, albeit 
 outwardly composed : for, in the room sits his Grace the 
 Duke of Belfield, newly arrived. He is talking to her 
 sister, Mrs. Strike, masked by Miss Current. The wife
 
 EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN. 217 
 
 of tlie Major has come this afternoon, and Andrew Cogglesby, 
 who brought her, chats with Lady Jocelyn like an old 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Evan shakes the hands of his relatives. Who shall turn 
 over the leaves of the fair singer's music- book? The young 
 men are in the billiard-room : Drummond is engaged in con- 
 verse with a lovely person with Giorgione hair, which the 
 Countess intensely admires, and asks the diplomatist whether 
 he can see a soupgon of red in it. The diplomatist's taste is 
 for dark beauties : the Countess is dark. 
 
 Evan must do duty by Rose. And now occurred a pheno- 
 menon in him. Instead of shunning her, as he had rejoiced 
 in doing after the Jocasta scene, ere she had wounded him, 
 he had a curious desire to compare her with the phantom 
 that had dispossessed her in his fancy. Unconsciously when 
 he saw her, he transferred the shame that devoured him, from 
 him to her, and gazed coldly at the face tbat could twist to 
 that despicable contortion. 
 
 He was in love, and subtle love will not be shamed and 
 smothered. Love sits, we must remember, mostly in two 
 hearts at the same time, and the one that is first stirred by 
 any of the passions to wakefulness, may know more of the 
 other than its owner. Why had Rose covered her head and 
 shuddered ? Would the girl feel that for a friend ? If his 
 pride suffered, love was not so downcast ; but to avenge him 
 for the cold she had cast on him, it could be critical, and 
 Evan made his bearing to her a blank. 
 
 This somehow favoured him with Rose. Sheep's eyes are 
 a dainty dish for little maids, and we know how largely they 
 indulge in it; but when they are just a bit doubtful of the 
 quality of the sheep, let the good animal shut his lids forth- 
 with, for a time. Had she not been a little unkind to him in 
 the morning ? She had since tried to help him, and that had 
 appeased her conscience, for in truth he was a good young 
 man. Those very words she mentally pronounced, while he 
 was thinking, " Would she feel it for a friend?" We dare 
 but guess at the puzzle young women present now and then, 
 but I should say that Evan was nearer the mark, and that 
 the ' good young man ' was a sop she threw to that within
 
 218 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 her which wanted quieting', and was thereby passably 
 quieted. Perhaps the good young man is offended? Let 
 us assure him of oxrr disinterested graciousness. 
 
 "Is your friend coming?" she asked, and to his reply 
 said, " I'm glad ; " and pitched upon a new song — one that, 
 by hazard, did not demand his attentions, and he surveyed 
 the company to find a vacant seat with a neighbour. Jule)-- 
 Bonner was curled up on the sofa, looking like a damsel who 
 has lost the third volume of an exciting novel, and is divining 
 the climax. He chose to avoid Miss Bonner. Drummond 
 was leaving the side of the Giorgione lady. Evan passed 
 leisurely, and Di'ummond said : 
 
 " You know Mrs. Evremonde? Let me introduce you." 
 
 He was soon in conversation with the glorious-haired dame. 
 
 " Excellently done, my brother ! " thinks the Countess de 
 Saldar. 
 
 Rose sees the matter coolly. "What is it to her ? But she 
 has finished with song. Jenny takes her place at the piano ; 
 and, as Hose does not care for instrumental music, she natu- 
 rally talks and laughs Avith Drummond, and Jenny does not 
 altogether like it, even though she is not playing to the ear 
 of William Harvey, for whom billiards have such attractions ; 
 but, at the close of the performance. Rose is quiet enough, 
 and the Countess observes her sitting, alone, pulling the petals 
 of a flower in her lap, on which her eyes are fixed. Is the 
 doe wounded ? The damsel of the disinterested graciousness 
 is assuredly restless. She starts up and goes out upon the 
 balcony to breathe the night-air, mayhap regard the moon, 
 and no one follows her. 
 
 Had Rose been guiltless of ofi'ence, Evan might have left 
 Beckley Court the next day, to cherish his outraged self-love. 
 Love of woman is strongly distinguished from pure egoism 
 when it has got a wound : for it will not go into a corner 
 complaining, it will fight its duel on the field or die. Did 
 the young lady know his origin, and scorn him ? He resolved 
 to stay and teach her that the presumption she had imputed 
 to him was her own mistake. And from this Evan graduated 
 naturally enough the finer stages of self-deception downward. 
 
 A lover must have his delusions, just as a man must have a
 
 EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN. 219 
 
 skin. But here was another singular change in Evan. After 
 his ale-prompted speech in rallowfield, he was nerved to face 
 the truth in the eyes of all save Rose. Now that the truth 
 had enmeshed his beloved, he turned to battle with it; he 
 was prepared to deny it at any moment ; his burnt flesh wag 
 as sensitive as the Countess's. Let Rose accuse him, and he 
 would say, " This is true. Miss Jocelyn — what then ? " and 
 behold Rose confused and dumb! Let not another dare 
 suspect it. For the fire that had scorched him was in some 
 sort healing, though horribly painful; but contact with the 
 general air was not to be endured — was death ! This, I 
 believe, is common in cases of injury by fire. 
 
 So it befell that Evan, meeting Rose the next morning, 
 was playfully asked by her what choice he had made between 
 the white and the red ; and he, dropping on her the shallow 
 eyes of a conventional smile, replied that, unable to decide 
 and form a choice, he had thrown both away ; at which Miss 
 Jocelyn gave him a look in the centre of his brows, let her 
 head slightly droop, and walked off. 
 
 " She can look serious as well as grimace," was all that 
 Evan allowed himself to think, and he strolled out on the 
 lawn with the careless serenity of lovers when they fancy 
 themselves heart-free. 
 
 Rose, whipping the piano in the drawing-room, could see 
 him go to sit by Mrs. Evremonde, till they were joined by 
 Drummond, when he left her and walked with Harry, and 
 apparently shadowed that young gentleman's unreflective 
 face ; after which HaiTy was drawn away by the appearance 
 of that dark star, the Countess de Saldar, whom Rose was 
 beginning to detest. Jenny glided by William Harvey's side, 
 far off. Rose, the young Queen of Friendship, was left 
 deserted on her music-stool for a throne, and when she ceased 
 to hammer the notes she was insulted by a voice that cried 
 frombelow : " Gro on. Hose, it's nice in the sun to hear you," 
 causing her to close her performances and the instrument 
 vigorously. 
 
 Rose was much behind her age : she could not tell what 
 was the matter with her. In these little torments young 
 people have to pass through they gain a rapid maturity. Let
 
 220 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 a girl talk with her own heart an hour, and she is almost a 
 woman. Rose came down-stairs dressed for riding. Laxley 
 was doing her the service of smoking one of her rose-trees. 
 Evan stood disengaged, prepared for her summons. She did 
 not notice him, but beckoned to Laxley drooping over a bud, 
 while the curled smoke floated from his lips. 
 
 " The very gracefullest of chimney-pots — is he not ? " saj-s 
 the Countess to Harry, whose immense guffaw fails not to 
 apprise Laxley that something has been said of him, and he 
 steps towards Eose red and angry, for in his dim state of 
 consciousness absence of the power of retort is the prominent 
 feature, and when anything is said of him, all he can do is 
 silently to resent it. Probably this explains his conduct to 
 Evan. Some youths have an acute memory for things that 
 have shut their mouths. 
 
 " Come for a ride, Ferdinand ? " said Rose, jauntily. 
 
 " Don't mean to say you're going alone? " he answered. 
 
 " Of course I am." 
 
 "Oh! I thought— " 
 
 " Don't think, please, Ferdinand; you're nicer when you 
 don't." 
 
 Rose marched on to the lawn, not glancing at Evan, whom 
 she approached. 
 
 " Do you snub everybody in that Avay ? " said Laxley. 
 
 " I tell them my ideas," Rose coolly replied. 
 
 The Countess observed to Harry that his dear friend Mr. 
 Laxley appeared, by the cast of his face, to be biting a sour 
 apple. 
 
 "Grapes, you mean?" laughed Harry. "Never mind! 
 she'll bite at him when he comes in for the title." 
 
 "Anything crude wUl do," rejoined the Countess. " Why 
 are you not courting Mrs. Evremonde, naughty Don ? " 
 
 " Oh ! she's occupied — castle's in possession. Besides — ! " 
 and Harry tried hard to look sly. 
 
 " Come and tell me about her," said the Countess. 
 
 Rose, Laxley, and Evan were standing close together. 
 
 " You really are going alone. Rose ? " said Laxley. 
 
 " Didn't I say so ? — unless ^ou wish to join us ? " She 
 turued upon Evan.
 
 EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN. 221 
 
 " I am at your disposal," said Evan. 
 
 Rose nodded briefly. 
 
 " I think I'll smoke the trees," said Laxley, imperceptibly 
 huffing. 
 
 " You won't come, Ferdinand ? " 
 
 " I only offered to fill up the gap. One does as well as 
 another." 
 
 Eose flicked her whip, and then declared she would not 
 ride at all, and, gathering up her skirts, hurried back to the 
 house. 
 
 As Laxley was turning away, Evan stood before him, and 
 spoke sharply : 
 
 " Which of us two is to leave this house ? " 
 
 Laxley threw up his head, and let his eyes descend on 
 Evan. "Don't understand," he observed, removing his 
 cigar, and swinging round carelessly. 
 
 "I'll assist your intelligence," said Evan. "You must 
 go, or I wiU; if I go I will wait for you." 
 
 "Wait for me?" 
 
 " Which implies that I intend to call you to account for 
 your very silly conduct, and that you shall not escape it." 
 
 Laxley vented an impatient exclamation, and seeming to 
 command a fit of anger by an effort of common sense, mut- 
 tered some words, among which Evan heard, " Appeal to a 
 magistrate ; " and catching at the clue, a cloud came over his 
 reason. 
 
 " You will appeal to a magistrate if a man beneath your 
 own rank horsewhips you? But remember, I give you a 
 chance of saving your reputation by offering you first the 
 weapons of gentlemen." 
 
 "Of gentlemen!" returned Laxley, who, in spite of the 
 passion arising within him, could not forbear the enjoyment 
 of his old advantage." 
 
 "And," continued Evan, "I will do this for the sake of 
 the honour of your famUy. I will speak to the Duke and 
 two or three others here to get them to bring you to a sense 
 of what is due to your name, before I proceed to ulterior 
 measures." 
 
 Laxley's eyes grew heavy with blood. The sarcasm was
 
 222 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 just on a level with his wits, but above his poor eflPorts at a 
 retort. 
 
 " What gentleman fights tailors ? " was so very poor and 
 weakly uttered, that Evan in his rage could laugh at it ; and 
 the laughter convinced Laxley that his ground was untenable. 
 He, of all others, was in reality the last to suspect Evan of 
 having spoken truth that night in Fallowfield; otherwise 
 would he have condescended to overt hostility, small jealousies, 
 and the shadows of hatred ? 
 
 " You really would not object to fight a gentleman ? " said 
 Evan. 
 
 Laxley flung down his cigar. " By Jove! as a gentleman 
 you owe it me — you shall fight me." 
 
 " I thank you," said Evan. " You require the assurance? 
 I give it you." 
 
 A shout of derision interrupted the closing of the pretty 
 quarrel. It had been seen by two or three on the lawn that 
 a matter was in hand between the youths. Drummond stood 
 by, and Harry Jocelyn pitched against them, clapping them 
 both on the shoulders. 
 
 " Thought you'd be on to each other before the day was 
 over, you pair of bantam-cocks ! Welcome the peacemaker. 
 Out with your paw, Harrington — Ferdinand, be magnani- 
 mous, my man." 
 
 Harry caught hold of their hands. 
 
 At this moment the Duke, holding Mrs. Strike in conver- 
 sation, hove in sight. The impropriety of an open squabble 
 became evident. Laxley sauntered off, and Evan went to 
 meet his sister. Drummond returned laughing to the side of 
 Mrs. Evremonde, nearing whom, the Countess, while one ear 
 was being filled by Harry's eulogy of her brother's recent 
 handling of Laxley, and while her intense gratification at the 
 success of her patient management of her most difiicult subject 
 made her smiles no mask, heard, "Is it not impossible to 
 suppose such a thing ? " A hush ensued — the Countess passed. 
 
 Harry continued the praises that won him special con- 
 descension from the fascinating dame : 
 
 " Harrington's a cunning dog ! he measures his man before 
 he comes to close quai'ters. He — "
 
 EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN. 223 
 
 " "WTiat English you talk ! 'Measures his man!'" inter- 
 posed the Countess, in a short-breathed whisper. Before she 
 spoke she had caught an inexplicable humorous gleam travel- 
 ling over Drummond's features ; at which her star reddened 
 and beamed ominously on her. She had seen something like 
 it once or twice in company — she had thought it habitual 
 with him : now, and because she could not forget it, the 
 peculiar look interpreted Mrs. Evremonde's simple words in 
 the Countess's suspicious nature. She drew Harry, nothing 
 loth, from the lawn to the park, and paid him well for what 
 he knew of the private histories of Mrs. Evremonde and 
 Drummond Forth. 
 
 In the afternoon, the Jocelyns, "William Harvey, and 
 Drummond met together to consult about arranging the dis- 
 pute; and deputations went to Laxley and to Evan. The 
 former was the least diiBcult to deal with. He demanded an 
 apology for certain expressions that day ; and an equivalent 
 to an admission that Mr. Harrington had said, in Eallowfield, 
 that he was not a gentleman, in order to escape the conse- 
 quences. All the Jocelyns laughed at his tenacity, and 
 "gentleman" began to be bandied about in ridicule of the 
 arrogant lean-headed adolescent. They paid Evan the com- 
 pliment of appealing to his common sense, and Evan was now 
 cool; for which reason he resolved that he would have all 
 that his hot blood had precipitated him to forfeit he knew 
 how much for; in other words, he insisted upon the value for 
 his lie. 
 
 " I bear much up to a certain point," he said : " beyond it 
 I allow no one to step." 
 
 It sounded well. Though Harry Jocelyn cried, "Oh, 
 humbug ! " he respected the man who held such cavalier 
 principles. 
 
 Drummond alone seemed to understand the case. He said 
 (and his words were carried faithfully to the Countess by her 
 dog) : " Harrington has been compelled by Laxley to say he's 
 a gentleman. He can't possibly retract it without injuring his 
 ancestors. Don't you comprehend his dilemma ? You must 
 get Ferdinand to advance a step closer." 
 
 Ferdinand refused; and the men acknowledged themselves
 
 224 EVAN HAREINGTON. 
 
 at a dead lock, and had recourse to the genius of the women. 
 Lady Jocelyn enjoyed the fun, and still more the serious way 
 in which her brothers-in-law regarded it. 
 
 "This comes of Eose having friends, Emily," said Mrs. 
 Shorne. 
 
 The Countess heard that Miss Carrington added: "People 
 one knows nothing about! " and the Countess smiled wickedlj^ 
 for she knew something about Miss Carrington. 
 
 There would have been a dispute to arrange between Lady 
 Jocelyn and Mrs. Shorne, had not her ladyship been so firmly 
 established in her phlegmatic philosophy. She said : " Quelle 
 enfantillage ! I dare say Rose was at the bottom of it : she 
 can settle it best." 
 
 " Indeed, Emily," said Mrs. Shorne, " I desire you, by all 
 possible means, to keep the occurrence secret from E.ose. She 
 ought not to hear of it." 
 
 "No; I dare say she ought not," returned Lady Jocelyn; 
 " but I wager you she does. You can teach her to pretend 
 not to, if you Uke. Ecce signum." 
 
 Her ladyship pointed through the library window at Rose, 
 who was walking with Laxley, and showing him her pearly 
 teeth in return for one of his jokes: an exchange so manifestly 
 unfair, that Lady Jocelyn's womanhood, indifferent as she 
 was, could not but feel that Eose had an object in view; 
 which was true, for she was flattering Laxley into a consent 
 to meet Evan half way. 
 
 The ladies murmured and hummed of these proceedings, 
 and of Eose's familiarity with Mr. Harrington ; and the Coun- 
 tess in trepidation took Evan to herself, and spoke to him 
 seriously; a thing she had not done since her residence in 
 Beckley. She let him see that he must be on a friendly foot- 
 ing with everj^body in the house, or go : which latter alter- 
 native Evan told her he had decided on. 
 
 "Yes," said the Countess, "and then you give people full 
 warrant to say it was jealousy drove you hence ; and you do 
 but extinguish yourself to implicate dear Eose. In love, 
 Evan, when you run away, you don't live to fight another 
 day." 
 
 She was commanded not to speak of love.
 
 EVAN CALLS HIMSELF GENTLEMAN", 225 
 
 "Whatever it may be, my dear," said the Countess, " Mr. 
 Laxley has used you ill. It may be that you put yourself at 
 his feet;" and his sister looked at him, sighing a great sigh. 
 She had, with violence, stayed her mouth concerning what 
 she knew of the Fallowfield business, dreading to alarm 
 Evan's sensitiveness; but she could not avoid giving him a 
 little slap. It was only to make him remember by the smart 
 that he must always suffer when he would not be guided 
 by her. 
 
 Evan professed to the Jocelyns that he was willing to apo- 
 logize to Laxley for certain expressions ; determining to leave 
 the house when he had done it. The Countess heard and 
 nodded. The young men, sounded on both sides, were ac- 
 cordingly lured to the billiard-room, and pushed together : 
 and when he had succeeded in thrusting the idea of Eose 
 from the dispute, it did seem such folly to Evan's common 
 sense, that he spoke with pleasant bonhommie about it; 
 saying, as he shook Laxley's hand : " Is this my certificate 
 of admission into your ranks ? " 
 
 Laxley thought it sufficient to reply that he was quite 
 satisfied; which, considering the occasion, and his position in 
 life, was equal to a repartee. 
 
 Then Evan, to wind up the affair good-humourediy, said : 
 
 " It would be better if gentlemen were to combine to put au 
 end to the blackguards, I fancy. They're not too many, for 
 them to begin killing each other yet; " and Seymour Jocelyn, 
 for the sake of conviviality, said: "Gad, a good idea!" and 
 Harry called Evan a trump, and Laxley, who had even less 
 relish for commerce in ideas than in clothes, began to whistle 
 and look distressfully easy. 
 
 It will not be thought that the Countess intended to permit 
 her brother's departure. To have toiled, and yet more, to 
 have lied and fretted her conscience, for nothing, was as little 
 her principle, as to quit the field of action till she is furcibly 
 driven fi'om it is that of any woman. 
 
 "Going, my dear," she said coolly. "To-morrow? Oh! 
 very well. You are the judge. And this creature — the 
 insolvent to the apple-woman, who is coming, whom you 
 would push here — will expose us, without a soul to guide hi? 
 
 Q
 
 226 EVAN HAERINGTON. 
 
 conduct, for / shall not remain. And Carry will not remain. 
 
 Carry ! " The Countess gave a semi-sob. " Cairy must 
 
 return to her hrute — " meaning the gallant Marine, her 
 possessor. 
 
 And the Countess, knowing that Evan loved his sister 
 Caroline, incidentally related to him an episode in the 
 domestic life of Major and Mrs. Strike. 
 
 " Greatly redounding to the credit of the nolle martinet for 
 the discipline he upholds," the Countess said, smiling at the 
 stunned youth. 
 
 " I would advise you to give her time to recover from one 
 bruise," she added. " You will do as it pleases you." 
 
 Evan was sent rushing from the Countess to Caroline, with 
 whom the Countess was content to leave him. 
 
 The young man was daintily managed. Caroline asked 
 him to stay, as she did not see him often, and (she brought it 
 in at the close) her home was not very happy. She did not 
 entreat him, but looking resigned, her lovely face conjured 
 up the Major to Evan, and he thought, " Can I drive her 
 back to him ? " 
 
 Andrew, too, threw out genial hints about the Brewery. 
 Old Tom intended to retire, he said, and then they would see 
 what they would see ! He silenced every word about Lym- 
 port; called him a brewer already, and made absurd jokes, 
 that were nevertheless serviceable stuff to the Countess, who 
 deplored to this one and to that the chance existing that Evan 
 might, by the urgent solicitations of his brother-in-law, give 
 up diplomacy and its honours for a brewery and lucre ! 
 
 Of course Evan knew that he was managed. The memoirs 
 of a managed man have yet to be written ; but if he be honest 
 he will tell you that he knew it all the time. He longed for 
 the sugar-plum ; he knew it was naughty to take it : he dared 
 not for fear of the devil, and he shut his eyes while somebody 
 else popped it into his mouth, and assumed his responsibility. 
 Being man-driven or chicaned, is different from being ma- 
 naged. Being managed implies being led the way this other 
 person thinks you should go : altogether for your own benefit, 
 mind : you are to see with her eyes, that you may not disap- 
 point your own appetites : which does not hurt the flesh,
 
 SECOND DESPATCH OF THE COUNTESS. 227 
 
 certainly; but does damage the conscience; and from the 
 moment you have once succumbed, that function ceases to 
 perform its office of moral strainer so well. 
 
 After all, was he not happier when he wrote himself tailor, 
 than when he declared himself gentleman ? 
 
 So he thought, till Eose, wishing him "Good night" on 
 the balcony, and abandoning her hand with a steady sweet 
 voice and gaze, said : " How generous of you to forgive my 
 friend, dear Evan ! " And the ravishing little glimpse of 
 womanly softness in her, set his heart beating ; and if he 
 thought at all, it was that he would have sacrificed body and 
 soul for her. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 SECOND DESPATCH OF THE COUNTESS. 
 
 "We do not advance very far in this second despatch, and 
 it will be found chiefly serviceable for the indications it affords 
 of our General's skill in mining, and addiction to that branch 
 of military science. For the moment I must beg that a 
 little indulgence be granted to her. 
 
 " Purely business. Great haste. Something has happened. 
 An event ? I know not ; but events may flow from it. 
 
 " A lady is here who has run away from the conjugal 
 abode, and Lady Jocelyn shelters her, and is hospitable to 
 another, who is more concerned in this lady's sad fate than he 
 should be. This may be morals, my dear : but please do not 
 talk of Portugal now. A fine-ish woman with a great deal of 
 hair worn as if her maid had given it one comb straight down 
 and then rolled it up in a hurry round one finger. Malice 
 would say carrots. It is called gold. Mr. Forth is in a glass 
 house, and is wrong to cast his sneers at perfectly/ inoffensive 
 people. 
 
 " Perfectly impossible we can remain at Beckley Court 
 together — if not dangerous. Any means that Providence may 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 designate, T would etnploy. It will be like exorcising a 
 demon. Alwaj-s excusable. I only ask a little more time 
 for stupid Evan. He might have little Bonner now. / 
 should not object; but her family is not so good. 
 
 " Now, do attend. At once obtain a copy of Strike's 
 Company people. You understand — prospectuses. Tell me 
 instantly if the Captain Evremonde in it is Captain Lawson 
 Evremonde. Pump Strike. Excuse vulgar words. Whether 
 he is not Lord Laxley's half-lrother. Strike shall be of use to 
 
 us. Whether he is not w«(^. Captain E 's address. Oh! 
 
 when I think of Strike — brute ! and poor beautiful uncom- 
 plaining Carry and her shoulder ! But let us indeed most 
 fervently hope that his Grace may be balm to it. We must, 
 not pray for vengeance. It is sinful. Providence will inflict 
 that. Always hiow that Providence is quite sure to. It 
 comforts exceedingly. 
 
 " Oh, that Strike were altogether in the past tense ! No 
 knowing what the Duke might do — a widower and completely 
 subjugated. It makes my bosom bound. The man tempts me 
 to the wickedest Erenchy ideas. There ! 
 
 " We progress with dear venerable Mrs. Bonner. Truly 
 pious — interested in your Louisa. She dreads that my hus- 
 band will try to convert me to his creed. I can but weep and 
 say — never ! 
 
 " I need not say I have my circle. To hear this ridiculous 
 boy Harry Jocelyn grunt under my nose when he has led me 
 unsuspectingly away from company — Harriet ! dearest ! He 
 thinks it a sigh ! But there is no time for laughing. 
 
 " My maxim in any house is — never to despise the good 
 opinion of the nonentities. They are the majority. I think 
 they all look up to me. But then of course you must fix that 
 by seducing the stars. ' My diplomatist praises my abilities — 
 Sir John Loring my style — the rest follow and I do not with- 
 hold my smiles, and they are happy, and I should be but that 
 for ungrateful Evan's sake I sacrificed my peace by binding 
 myself to a dreadful sort of half-story. I know I did not 
 quite say it. It seems as if Sir A.'s ghost were going to haunt 
 me. And then I have the most dreadful fears that what 
 I have done has disturbed him in the other world. Can it be
 
 SECOND DESPATCH OF THE COUNTESS. 229 
 
 so ? It is not money or estates we took at all, dearest ! And 
 these excollcnt young curates — I almost wish it was Protestant 
 to speak a word behind a board to them and imbibe comfort. 
 For after all it is nothing : and a word even from this poor 
 thin mopy Mr. Parsley might be relief to a poor soul in 
 trouble. Catholics tell you that what you do in a good 
 cause is redeemable if not exactly right. And you know the 
 Catholic is the oldest Religion of the two. I would listen to 
 the Pope, staunch Protestant as I am, in preference to King 
 Henry the Eighth. Though, as a woman, I bear him no 
 rancour, for his wives were — fools, point blank. No man 
 was ever so manageable. My diplomatist is getting liker and 
 liker to him every day. Leaner, of course, and does not 
 habitually straddle. "Whiskers and morals, I mean. We 
 must be silent before our prudish sister. Not a prude ? We 
 talk diplomacy, dearest. He complains of the exclusiveness 
 of the port of Oporto, and would have strict alliance between 
 Portugal and England, with mutual privileges. I wish the 
 alliance, and think it better to maintain the exclusiveness. 
 Very trifling ; but what is life ! 
 
 " Adieu. One word to leave you laughing. Imagine 
 her situation ! This stupid Miss Carrington has offended 
 me. She has tried to pump Conning, who, I do not doubt, 
 gave her as much truth as I chose she should have in 
 her well. But the quandarj'- of the wretched creature ! 
 She takes Conning into her confidence — a horrible malady 
 just covered by high-neck dress ! Skin ! and impossible 
 that she can tell her engaged — who is — guess — Mr. George 
 
 Up ! Her name is Louisa Carrington. There was a 
 
 Louisa Harrington once. Similarit}' of names perhaps. Of 
 course I could not let him come to the house ; and of course 
 Miss C. is in a state of wonderment and bad passions, 1 fear. 
 I went straight to Lady Eoseley, my dear. There was 
 nothing else for it but to go and speak. She is truly a 
 noble Avoman — serves us in every way. As she should ! — 
 much affected by sight of Evan, and keeps aloof from Beckley 
 Court. The finger of Providence is in all. Adieu ! but do 
 pray think of Miss Carrington ! It was foolish of her to 
 offend me. Drives and walks— the Duke attentive. Descrip-
 
 230 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 lion of him when I embrace you. I give amiable Sir Franks 
 Portuguese dishes. Ah, my dear, if we had none but men to 
 contend against, and only women for our tools ! But this is 
 asking for the world, and nothing less. 
 
 " Open again," she pursues. " Dear Carry just come in. 
 There are fairies, I think, where there are dukes ! "Where 
 could it have come from ? Could any human being have sent 
 messengers post to London, ordered, and had it despatched 
 here within this short time ? You shall not be mystified ! I 
 do no think I even hinted; but the afternoon walk I had with 
 his Grace, on the first day of his arrival, I did shadow it very 
 delicately how much it was to be feared our poor Carry could 
 not, that she dared not, betray her liege lord in an evening 
 dress. Nothing more, upon my veracity! And Carry has 
 this moment received the most beautiful green box, containing 
 two of the most heavenly old lace shawls that you ever beheld. 
 We divine it is to hide poor Carry's matrimonial blue mark ! 
 "We know nothing. Will you imagine Carry is for not accept- 
 ing it ! Priority of birth does not imply superior wits, dear 
 — no allusion to you. I have undertaken all. Arch looks, 
 but nothing pointed. His Grace will understand the exqui- 
 site expression of feminine gratitude. It is so sweet to deal 
 with true nobility. Carry has only to look as she always 
 does. One sees Strike sitting on her. Her very pliability 
 has rescued her from being utterly squashed long ere this ! 
 The man makes one vulgar. It would have been not the 
 slightest use asking me to be a Christian had I wedded Strike. 
 But think of the fairy presents ! It has determined me not 
 to be expelled by Mr. Forth — quite. Tell Silva he is not 
 forgotten. But, my dear, between us alone, men are so selfish, 
 that it is too evident they do not care for private conversations 
 to turn upon a lady's husband : not to be risked, only now 
 and then. 
 
 " I hear that the young ladies and the young gentlemen 
 have been out riding a race. The poor little Bonner girl 
 cannot ride, and she says to Carry that Bose wishes to break 
 our brother's neck. The child hardly wishes that, but she is 
 feelingless. If Evan could care for Miss Bonner, he might 
 have B. C. ! Oh, it is not so very long a shot, my dear. I
 
 SECOND DESPATCH OF THE COUNTESS. 231 
 
 am on the spot, remember. Old Mrs. Bonner is a most just- 
 minded spirit. Juliana is a cripple, and her grandmother 
 wishes to be sure that, when she departs to her Lord, the 
 poor cripple may not be chased from this home of hers. 
 Rose cannot calculate — Harry is in disgrace — there is really 
 no knowing. This is how I have reckoned; 10,000^. extra 
 to Rose; perhaps 1000/. or nothing to H. ; all the rest of 
 ready-money — a large sum — no use guessing — to Lady Joce- 
 lyn; and B. C. to little Bonner — it is worth 40,000/. Then 
 she sells, or stops — permanent resident. It might be so soon, 
 for /can see worthy Mrs. Bonner to be breaking visibly. But 
 young men will not see with wiser eyes than their own. 
 Here is Evan risking his neck for an indiflferent — there's 
 some word for ' not soft.' In short. Rose is the cold-blooded 
 novice, as I have always said, the most selfish of the creatures 
 on two legs. 
 
 "Adieu! Would you have dreamed that Major Night- 
 mare's gallantry to his wife would have called forth a 
 gallantry so truly touching and delicate ? Can you not see 
 Providence there ? Out of evil — the Catholics again ! 
 
 ^'Address. If Lord Lax — 's half-hrother. If wrong in 
 noddle. This I know you will attend to scrupulously. Ridi- 
 culous words are sometimes the most expressive. Once more, 
 may Heaven bless you all ! I thought of you in church last 
 Sunday. 
 
 " I may tell you this : young Mr. Laxley is here. He — 
 but it was Evan's utter madness was the cause, and I have 
 not ventured a word to him. He compelled Evan to assert 
 his rank, and Mr. Forth' s face has been one concentrated 
 sneer since then-. He must know the origin of the Coggles- 
 bys, or something. ISfow you will understand the importance. 
 I cannot be more explicit. Only the man tmist go. 
 
 "P.S. I have just ascertained that Lady Jocelyn is quite 
 familiar with Andrew's origin ! ! She must think my poor 
 Harriet an eccentric woman. Of course I have not pretended 
 to ranh here, merely gentry. It is gentry in reality, for had 
 poor Papa been legitimized, he would have been a nobleman. 
 You know that; and between the two we may certainly 
 claim gentry. I twiddle your little good Andrew to assert
 
 232 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 it for us twenty times a day. Of all the dear little man- 
 ageable men ! It does you infinite credit that you respect 
 him as you do. What would have become oime I do not know. 
 
 " P.8. I said two shawls — a black and a white. The 
 black not so costly — very well. And so delicate of him to 
 think of the mourning ! But the white, my dear, must be 
 family — must ! Old English point. Exquisitely chaste. So 
 different from that Brussels poor Andrew surprised you with. 
 I know it cost money, but this is a question of taste. The 
 Duke reconciles me to England and all my troubles ! He is 
 more like poor Papa than anyone of the men 1 have yet seen. 
 The perfect gentleman ! I do praise m.yself for managing 
 an invitation to our Carry. She has been a triumph." 
 
 Admire the concluding stroke. The Countess calls this 
 letter a purely business communication. Commercial men 
 might hardlj^ think so ; but perhaps ladies will perceive it. 
 She rambles concentrically, if I may so expound her. Full of 
 luxurious enjoyment of her position, her mind is active, and 
 you see her at one moment marking a plot, the next, with a 
 light exclamation, appeasing her conscience, proud that she 
 has one ; again she calls up rival forms of faith, that she may 
 show the Protestant its little shortcomings, and tbat it is 
 slightly in debt to her (like Providence) for her constancy, 
 notwithstanding. The Protestant you see, does not confess, 
 and she has to absolve herself, and must be doing it internally 
 while she is directing outer matters. Hence her slap at King 
 Henry VIII. In fact, there is much more business in this 
 letter than I dare to indicate ; but as it is both impertinent 
 and unpopular to dive for any length of time beneath the sur- 
 face (especially when there are few pearls to show for it), we 
 will discontinue our examination. 
 
 The Countess, when she had dropped the letter in the bag, 
 returned to her chamber, and deputed Dorothy Loring, whom 
 she met on the stairs, to run and request Rose to lend her her 
 album to beguile the afternoon with ; and Dorothy dances to 
 Eose, saying, " The Countess de Lispy-Lispy would be 
 delighted to look at your album all the afternoon." 
 
 "Oh what a woman that is! " says Hose. " Countess de 
 Lazy-Lazy, I think."
 
 BREAK-NECK LEAP. 233 
 
 The Countess, had she been listening, would have cared 
 little for accusations on that head. Idlesse was fashionables : 
 exquisite languors were a sign of breeding ; and she always 
 had an idea that she looked more interesting at dinner after 
 reclining on a couch the whole of the afternoon. The great 
 Mel and his mate had given her robust health, and she was 
 able to play the high-born invalid without damage to her 
 constitution. Anything amused her ; Rose's album even, and 
 the compositions of W. H., E. H., D. F., and P. L. The 
 initials F. L. were diminutive, and not unlike her own hand, 
 she thought. They were appended to a piece of facetiousness 
 that would not have disgraced the abilities of Mr. John Eaikes; 
 but we know that very stiff young gentlemen betray monkey- 
 minds when sweet young ladies compel them to disport. On 
 the whole, it was not a lazy afternoon that the Countess 
 passed, and it was not against her wish that others should 
 think it was. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 BREAK-NECK LEAP. 
 
 The August sun was in mid-sky, when a troop of ladies 
 and cavaliers issued from the gates of Beckley Court, and 
 winding through the hopgardens, emerged on the cultivated 
 slopes bordering the downs. Foremost, on her grey cob, was 
 Rose, having on her right her uncle Seymour, and on her left 
 Ferdinand Laxley. Behind came Mrs. Evremonde, flanked 
 by Drummond and Evan. Then followed Jenny Graine, sup- 
 ported by Harry and William Harvey. In the rear came an 
 open carriage, in which Miss Carrington and the Countess de 
 Raldar were borne, attended by Lady Jocelyn and Andrew 
 Cogglesby on horseback. The expedition had for its object 
 the selection of a run of ground for an amateur steeple-chase : 
 the idea of which had sprung from Laxley's boasts of his 
 horsemanship : and Rose, quick as fire, had backed herself, 
 and Drummond and Evan, to beat him. The mention of the 
 latter was quite enough for Laxley.
 
 234 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 " If he follows mo, let him take care of his neck," said 
 that youth. 
 
 " Why, Ferdinaud, he can beat you in anything ! " 
 exclaimed Eose, imprudently. 
 
 But the truth was, she was now more restless than ever. 
 She was not distant with Evan, hut she had a feverish 
 manner, and seemed to thirst to make him show his qualities, 
 and excel, and shine. Billiards, or jumping, or classical 
 acquirements, it mattered not — Evan must come first. He 
 had crossed the foils with Laxley, and disarmed him; for 
 Mel his father had seen him trained for a military career. 
 Eose made a noise about the encounter, and Laxley was 
 eager for his opportunity, which he saw in the proposed mad 
 gallop. 
 
 Now Mr. George TJploft, who usually rode in buckskins 
 whether he was after the fox or fresh air, was out on this 
 particular morning; and it happened that, as the cavalcade 
 wound beneath the down, Mr. George trotted along the ridge. 
 He was a fat-faced, rotund young squire — a bully where he 
 might be, and an obedient creature enough were he must be — 
 good humoured when not interfered with ; fond of the table, 
 and brimful of all the jokes of the county, the accent of which 
 just seasoned his speech. He had somehow plunged into 
 a sort of half-engagement with Miss Carrington At his age, 
 and to ladies of Miss Carrington's age, men unhappily do not 
 plunge head-foremost, or Miss Carrington would have had him 
 long before. But he was at least in for it half a leg ; and a 
 desperate maiden, on the criminal side of thirty, may make 
 much of that. Previous to the visit of the Countess de Saldar, 
 Mr. George had been in the habit of trotting over to Beckley 
 three or four times a week. Miss Carrington had a little 
 money: Mr. George was heir to his uncle. Miss Carrington 
 was lean and blue-eyed : Mr. George black-eyed and obese. 
 By everybody, except Mr. George, the match was made : but 
 that exception goes for little in the country, where half the 
 population are talked into mai'riage, and gossips entirely 
 devote themselves to continuing the speciss. Mr. George was 
 certain that he had not been fighting shy of the fair Car- 
 rington of late, nor had he been unfaithful. He had only
 
 BREAK-NECK LEAP. 235 
 
 been in an extraordinary state of occupation. Messages for 
 Lady Roseley had to be delivered, and he had become h(T 
 cavalier and escort suddenly. The young squire was bewil- 
 dered ; but as he was only one leg in love — if the sentiment 
 may be thus spoken of figuratively — his vanity in his preseiit 
 office kept bini from remorse or uneasiness. He rode at an 
 easjr pace within sight of the home of his treasure, and his 
 back turned to it. Presently there rose a cry from below. 
 Mr. George looked about. The party of horsemen hallooed : 
 Mr, George yoicked. Rose set her horse to gallop up ; Sey- 
 mour Jocelyn cried "fox," and gave the view; hearing which 
 Mr. George shouted, and seemed inclined to surrender; but 
 the fun seized him, and, standing up in his stirrups, he 
 gathered his coat-tails in a bunch, and waggled them with a 
 jolly laugh, which was taken up below, and the clamp of hoofs 
 resounded on the turf as Mr. George led off, after once more, 
 with a jocose twist in his seat, showing them the brush 
 mockingly. Away went fox, and a mad chase began. Sey- 
 mour acted as master of the hunt. Hose, Evan, Drummoud, 
 and Mrs. Evremonde and Dorothy, skirted to the right, all 
 laughing, and full 9f excitement. Harry bellowed the direc- 
 tion from above. The ladies in the carriage, with Lady 
 Jocelyn and Andrew, watched them till they flowed one and 
 all over the shoulder of the down. 
 
 " And who may the j^oor hunted animal be ? " inquired 
 the Countess. 
 
 " George TJploft," said Lady Jocelyn, pulling out her 
 watch. "I give him twentj' minutes." 
 
 "Providence speed him!" breathed the Countess, with 
 secret fervour. 
 
 "Oh, he hasn't a chance," said Lady Jocelyn. "The 
 Squire keeps wretched beasts." 
 
 " Is there not an attraction that will account for his hasty 
 capture?" said the Countess, looking tenderly at Miss Car- 
 rington, who sat a little straighter, and the Countess, hating 
 manifestations of stiff-backedncss, could not forbear adding: 
 ' I am at war with my sympathies, which should be with the 
 poor brute flj'ing from his persecutors." 
 
 She was in u bitter state of trepidation, or she would have
 
 236 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 thought twice before she touched a nerve of the enamoured 
 lady, as she knew she did in calling her swain a poor brute, 
 and did again by pertinaciously pursuing: "Does he then 
 shun his captivity ? " 
 
 " Touching a nerve " is one of those unforgivable small 
 offences which, in our civilized state, produce the social ven- 
 dettas and dramas that, with savage nations, spring from the 
 spilling of blood. Instead of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a 
 tooth, we demand a nerve for a nerve. " Thou hast touched 
 me where I am tender — thee, too, Avill I touch." 
 
 Miss Carrington had been alarmed and hurt at the strange 
 evasion of Mr. George ; nor could she see the fun of his mimi- 
 cry of the fox and his flight away from instead of into her 
 neighbourhood. She had also, or she now thought it, remarked 
 that when Mr. George had been spoken of casually, the Coun- 
 tess had not looked a natural look. Perhaps it was her pre- 
 sent inflamed fancy. At any rate the Countess was offensive 
 now. She was positively vulgar, in consequence, to the mind 
 of Miss Carrington, and Miss Carrington was drawn to think 
 of a certain thing Ferdinand Laxley had said he had heard 
 from the mouth of this lady's brother when ale was in him. 
 Alas ! how one seed of a piece of folly will lurk and sprout to 
 confound us ; though, like the cock in the eastern tale, we 
 peck up zealously all but that one ! 
 
 The carriage rolled over the turf, attended by Andrew and 
 Lady Jocelyn, and the hunt was seen ; Mr. George some forty 
 paces a-head ; Seymour gaining on him. Rose next. 
 
 " Who's that breasting Rose ?" said Lady Jocelyn, lifting 
 her glass. 
 
 "My brother-in-law, Harrington," returned Andrew. 
 
 "He doesn't ride badly," said Lady Jocelyn. "A little 
 too military. He must have been set up in England." 
 
 " Oh, Evan can do anything," said Andrew enthusiasti- 
 cally. " His father was a capital horseman, and taught him 
 iencing, riding, and every accomplishment. You won't find 
 Buch a young fellow, my lady " 
 
 " The brother like him at all ? " asked Lady Jocelyn, stiU 
 eying the chase. 
 
 " Brother? He hasn't got a brother," said Andrew.
 
 BKEAK-NECK LEAP. 237 
 
 Lady Jocelyn continued : "I mean the present baronet." 
 
 She was occupied with her glass, and did not observe the 
 tiush that took hold of Andrew's ingenuous cheeks, and his 
 hurried glance at and off the quiet eye of the Countess. Miss 
 Carrington did observe it. 
 
 Mr. Andrew dashed his face under the palm of his hand, 
 and murmured : 
 
 " Oh — yes ! His brother-in-law isn't much like him — ha I 
 ha!" 
 
 And then the poor little man rubbed his hands, unconscious 
 of the indignant pitj^ for his wretched abilities in the gaze of 
 the Countess; and he must have been exposed — there was a 
 fear that the ghost of Sir Abraham would have darkened this 
 day, for Miss Carrington was about to speak, when Lady 
 Jocelyn cried : *' There's a purl ! Somebody's down." 
 
 The Countess was unaware of the nature of a purl, but she 
 could have sworn it to be a piece of Providence. 
 
 "Just by old Nat Hodges' farm, on Squire Copping's 
 ground," cried Andrew, much relieved by the particular 
 individual's misfortune, " Dear me, my lady ! how old Tom 
 and I used to jump the brook there, to be sure ! and when 
 you were no bigger tban little Miss Loring — do you remem- 
 ber old Tom ? We're all fools one time in our lives ! '' 
 
 "Who can it be?" said Lady Jocelyn, spying at the 
 discomfited horseman. " I'm afraid it's poor Ferdinand." 
 
 They drove on to an eminence from which the plain was 
 entirely laid open. 
 
 " I hope my brother will enjoy his ride this day," sighed 
 the Countess. "It will be his limit of enjoyment for a 
 lengthened period ! " 
 
 She perceived that Mr. George's capture was inevitable, 
 and her heart sank ; for she was sui-e he would recognize her, 
 and at the moment she misdoubted her powers. She dreamed 
 of flight. 
 
 "You're not going to leave us?" said Lady Jocelyn. 
 " My dear Countess, what will the future member do without 
 you ? We have your promise to stay till the election is over." 
 
 " Thanks for your extreme kind courtesy. Lady Jocelyn," 
 murmured the Coimtess: " but my husband — the Count."
 
 238 • EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 "The favour is yours," returned her ladyship. "And 
 if the Count cannot come, you at least are at liberty ? " 
 
 "You are most kind," said the Countess. 
 
 "Andrew and his wife I should not dare to separate for 
 more than a week," said Lady Jocclyn. " He is the great 
 British husband. The proprietor '. ' My wife ' is his unan- 
 swerable excuse." 
 
 " Yes," Andrew replied cheerily. " I don't like division 
 between man and wife, I must say." 
 
 The Countess dared no longer instance the Count, her hus- 
 band. She was heard to murmur that citizen feelings were 
 not hers. 
 
 "You suggested Fallowfield to Melville, did you not?" 
 asked Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 " It was the merest suggestion," said the Countess, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Then you must really stay to see us through it," said her 
 ladyship. " Where are they now ? They must be making 
 straight for break -neck fence. They'll have him there. 
 George hasn't pluck for that." 
 
 " Hasn't what ? " 
 
 It was the Countess who requested to know the name of 
 this other piece of Providence Mr. George Uploft was defi- 
 cient in. 
 
 "Pluck — go," said her ladyship hastily, and telling the 
 coachman to drive to a certain spot, trotted on with Andrew, 
 saying to him : " I'm afraid we are thought vulgar by the 
 Countess." 
 
 Andrew considered it best to reassure her gravely. 
 
 " The young man, her brother, is well-bred," said Lady 
 Jocelyn, and Andrew was very ready to praise Evan. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn, herself in slimmer days a spirited horse- 
 woman, had correctly estimated Mr. George's pluck. He 
 was captured by Harry and Evan close on the leap, in the act 
 of shaking his head at it ; and many who inspected the leap 
 would have deemed it a sign that wisdom weighted the head 
 that would shake long at it ; for it consisted of a post and 
 rails, with a double ditch. 
 
 Seymour Jocelyn, Mrs. Evremonde, Drummond, Jenny
 
 BREAK-NECK LEAP. 239 
 
 Graine, and 'Williani Harvey, rode with Mr. George in quest 
 of the carriage, and the captive was duly delivered over. 
 
 "Butwhei-e's the brush?" said Lady Jocelyn, laughing. 
 and introducing him to the Countess, who dropped her head, 
 and with it her veil. 
 
 "Oh! they leave that on for my next run," said Mr 
 George, bowing civilly. 
 
 " You are going to run again ? " 
 
 Miss Carrington severely asked this question ; and Mr. 
 George protested. 
 
 " Secure him, Louisa," said Lady Jocelyn. " See here : 
 what's the matter with poor Dorothy ? " 
 
 Dorothy came slowly trotting up to them along the green 
 lane, and thus expressed her grief, between sobs : 
 
 " Isn't it a shame ? Rose is ««<c7i a tyrant. They're going 
 to ride a race and a jump down in the field, and its break-neck 
 leap, and Rose won't allow me to stop and see it, though she 
 knows I'm just as fond of Evan as she is ; and if he's killed I 
 declare it will be her fault ; and it's all for her stupid, dirty 
 old pocket handkerchief! " 
 
 "Break-neck fence!" said Lady Jocelyn; "that's rather 
 mad." 
 
 " Do let's go and see it, darling Aunty Joey," pleaded the 
 little maid. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn rode on, saying to herself: " That girl has a 
 great deal of devil in her." The lady's thoughts were of 
 Rose. 
 
 "Black Lymport 'd take the leap," said Mr. George, fol- 
 lowing her with the rest of the troop. "Who's that fellow 
 on him?" 
 
 " His name's Harrington," quoth Drummond. 
 
 "Oh, Harrington!" Mr. George responded; but imme- 
 diately laughed — " Harrington ? 'Gad, if he takes the leap 
 it'll be odd — another of the name. That's where old Mel had 
 his spill." 
 
 "Who?" Drummond inquired. 
 
 "Old Mel Harrington — the Lymport wonder. Old Mar- 
 quis Mel," said Mr. George. " Haven't ve heard of 
 him?"
 
 240 EVAN HARRINGTOK 
 
 " What ! the gorgeous tailor ! " exclaimed Lady Jocelyn. 
 "How I regret never meeting that magnificent snob! that 
 efflorescence of sublime imposture! I've seen the Regent; 
 but one's life doesn't seem complete without having seen his 
 twin -brother. You must give us warning when you have 
 him down at Croftlands again, Mr. George." 
 
 " 'Gad, he'll have to come a long distance — poor old 
 Mel ! " said Mr. George ; and was going on, when Seymour 
 Jocelyn stroked his moustache to cry, " Look ! Eosey's start- 
 ing 'em, by Jovel" 
 
 The leap, which did not appear formidable from where 
 they stood, was four fields distant from the point where Rose, 
 with a handkerchief in her hand, was at that moment giving 
 the signal to Laxley and Evan. 
 
 Miss Carrington and the Countess begged Lady Jocelyn to 
 order a shout to be raised to arrest them, but her ladyship 
 marked her good sense by saying: "Let them go, now they're 
 about it; " for she saw that to make a fuss now matters had 
 proceeded so far, was to be uncivil to the inevitable. 
 
 The start was given, and off they flew. Harry Jocelyn, be- 
 hind them, was evidently caught by the demon, and clapped 
 spurs to his horse to have his fling as well, for the fun of the 
 thing ; but Rose, farther down the field, rode from her post 
 straight across him, to the imminent peril of a mutual over- 
 set ; and the party on the height could see Harry faming, and 
 Rose coolly looking him down, and letting him understand 
 what her will was ; and her mother, and Drummond, and 
 Seymour who beheld this, had a common sentiment of admi- 
 ration for the gallant girl. But away went the rivals. Black 
 Lymport was the favourite, though none of the men thought 
 he would be put at the fence. The excitement became conta- 
 gious. The Countess threw up her veil. Lady Jocelyn, and 
 Seymour, and 'Drummond, gallopped down the lane, and Mr. 
 George was for accompanying them, till the line of Miss Car- 
 rington's back gave him her unmistakeable opinion of such a 
 course of conduct, and he had to dally and fret by her side. 
 Andrew's arm was tightly grasped by the Countess. The 
 rivals were crossing the second field, Laxley a little a-head. 
 "He's holding in the black mare — that fellow ! " said Mr.
 
 BREAK-NECK LEAP. 241 
 
 George. " 'Gad, it looks like going at the fence. Fancy 
 Harrington ! " 
 
 They were now in the fourth field, a smooth shorn meadow. 
 Laxley was two clear lengths in advance, but seemed riding, as 
 Mr. George remarked, more for pace than to take the jump. 
 The ladies kept plying random queries and suggestions : the 
 Countess wishing to know whether they could not be stopped 
 by a countryman before they encountered any danger. In the 
 midst of their chatter, Mr. George rose in his stirrups, crying : 
 " Bravo, the black mare ! " 
 
 " Has he done it? " said Andrew, wiping his poll. 
 
 "He? 'No, the mare!" shouted Mr. George, and bolted 
 oflf, no longer to be restrained. 
 
 The Countess, doubly relieved, threw herself back in the 
 carriage, and Andrew drew a breath, saying : " Evan has 
 beat him — I saw that ! The other's horse swerved right 
 round." 
 
 " I fear," said Mrs. Evremonde, " Mr. Harrington has had 
 a fall. Don't be alarmed — it may not be much." 
 
 " A fall ! " exclaimed the Countess, equally divided between 
 alarms of sisterly affection and a keen sense of the romance of 
 the thing. 
 
 Miss Carrington ordered the carriage to be driven round. 
 They had not gone far when they were met by Harry Jocelyn 
 riding in hot haste, and he bellowed to the coachman to drive 
 as hard as he could, and stop opposite Brook's farm. 
 
 The scene on the other side of the fence would have been a 
 sweet one to the central figure in it had his eyes then been 
 open. Surrounded by Lady Jocelyn, Drummond, Seymour, 
 and the rest, Evan's dust-stained body was stretched along 
 the road, and his head was lying in the lap of Rose, who, 
 pale, heedless of anything spoken by those around her, and 
 with her lips set and her eyes turning wildly from one to the 
 other, held a gory handkerchief to his temple with one hand, 
 and with the other felt for the motion of his heart. 
 
 But heroes don't die, you know.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 TKinULATIONS AND TACTICS 01^ THE COUNTESS. 
 
 " You have murdered my brother, Rose Jocclyn 1 " 
 
 " Don't say so now." 
 
 Such was the interchange between the two that loved the 
 senseless youth, as he was being lifted into the carriage. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn sat upright in her saddle, giving directions 
 about what was to be done with Evan and the mare, 
 impartially. 
 
 " Stunned, and a good deal shaken, I suppose; Lymport's 
 knees are terribly cut," she said to Druminond, who merely 
 nodded. And Seymour remarked, " Eilty guineas knocked 
 off her value ! " One added, " Nothing worse, I should 
 think;" and another, "A little damage inside, perhaps." 
 Difficult to say whether they spoke of Evan or the brute. 
 
 No violent outcries ; no reproaches cast on the cold-blooded 
 coquette; no exclamations on the heroism of her brother! 
 They could absolutely spare a tliought for tlie animal ! And 
 Evan had risked his life for this, and might die unpitied. 
 The Countess diversified her grief with a deadly bitterness 
 against the heartless Jocolyns. 
 
 Oh, if Evan dies! Avill it punish Rose sufficiently? 
 
 Andrew expressed emotion, but not of a kind the Countess 
 liked a relative to be seen exhibiting ; for in emotion worthy 
 Andrew betrayed to her his origin offensively. 
 
 " Go away and puke if you must," she said, clii)ping poor 
 Andrew's word about his " dear boy." She could not help 
 speaking in that way — he was so vulgar. A word of sym- 
 pathy from Lady Jocelyn might have saved her from the sour- 
 ness into whicli her many conilicting passions were resolving; 
 and might also have saved her ladysliip from the rancour she 
 had sown in the daughter of the great Mel by her selection of 
 epithets to characterize him. 
 
 Will it punish Eose at all, if Evan dies P
 
 TRIBULATIONS, ETC., OF THE COUNTESS. 243 
 
 Rose saw that she was looked at. How could tlic Countess 
 tell that Rose envied her the joy of holding Evan in the car- 
 riage there? lloae, to judge hy her lace, was as calm as 
 glass. Not so well seen tlirough, however. Mrs. Evremondo 
 rode beside lier, whose fingers she cauglit, and twined lier 
 own with theni tightly once for a fleeting instant. Mrs. 
 Evremonde wanted no further confession of her state. 
 
 Then Hose said to her mother, " Mama, may I ride to havo 
 the doctor ready ?" 
 
 Ordinarily, llosc would havo clapped heel to norse the 
 moment the thought came. She waited for the permission, 
 and flew off at a gallop, waving back Laxley, who was for 
 joining her. 
 
 "Franks will be a little rusty about the mare," the 
 Countess heard Lady Jocclyn say ; and Ilarry just then 
 stooped his head to the carriage, and said, in his blunt 
 fashion, "After, all, it won't show much." 
 
 " We arc not cattle ! " exclaimed the frenzied Countess, 
 louder than she intended. Alas ! it was almost a democratic 
 outcry they made her guilty of; but she was driven past 
 patience. And as a further provocation, Evan would open 
 his eyes. She laid her handkerchief over them with loving 
 delicacy, remembering in a flaKh that her own face had been 
 all the while exposed to Mr. George Uploft ; and then the 
 terrors of his presence at Beckley Court came upon her, and 
 the fact that she had not for the last ten minutes been the 
 serene Countess de Saldar ; and she quite hated Andrew, for 
 vulgarity in others evoked vulgarity in her, which was the 
 reason why she ranked vulgarity as the chief of the deadly 
 sins. Her countenance for Hurry and all the others save 
 poor Andrew was soon the placid heaven-confiding sister's 
 again ; not before Lady Jocclyn had found cause to observe 
 to Drummond : 
 
 "Your Countess doesn't rufllo well." 
 
 But a lady who is at war with two or three of the facts of 
 Providence, and yet will have Providence for her ally, can 
 hardly rufile well. 
 
 Do not imagine that the Countess's love for her brother 
 was hollow. She was assured when she came up to the spot 
 
 R 2
 
 244 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 where he fell, that there was no clanger ; he had but dislo- 
 cated his shoulder, and bruised his head a little. Hearing 
 this, she rose out of her clamorous heart, and seized the oppor- 
 tunity for a small burst of melo- drama. Unhappily, Lady 
 Jocelyn, who gave the tone to the rest, was a Spartan in 
 matters of this sort ; and as she would have seen those dearest 
 to her bear the luck of the field, she could see others. "When 
 the call for active help reached her, you beheld a different 
 woman. 
 
 The demonstrativeness the Countess thirsted for Avas 
 afforded her by Juley Bonner, and in a measure by her sister 
 Caroline, who loved Evan passionately. The latter was in 
 riding attii'e, about to mount to ride and meet them, accom- 
 panied by the Duke. Caroline had hastily tied up her hair ; 
 a rich golden brown lump of it hung round her cheek ; her 
 limpid eyes and anxiously-nerved brows impressed the 
 Countess wonderfully as she ran down the steps and bent her 
 fijie well-filled bust forward to ask the first hurried question. 
 
 The Countess patted her shoulder, " Safe, dear," she 
 said aloud, as one who would not make much of it. And in 
 a whisper, " You look superb." 
 
 I must charge it to Caroline's beauty under the ducal 
 radiance, that a stream of sweet feelings entering into the 
 Countess made her forget to tell her sister that George TJploft 
 was by. Caroline had not been abroad, and her skin was not 
 olive-hued ; she was a beauty, and a majestic figure, little 
 altered since the day when the wooden marine marched her 
 out of Lymport. 
 
 The Countess stepped from the carriage to go and cherish 
 Juliana's petulant distress; for that unhealthy little body was 
 stamping with impatience to have the story told to her, to 
 burst into fits of pathos ; and while Seymour and Harry 
 assisted Evan to descend, trying to laugh off the pain he 
 endured, Caroline stood by, soothing him with words and 
 tender looks. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn passed him, and took his hand, saying, " Not 
 killed this time ! " 
 
 "At your ladyship's service to-morrow," he replied, and 
 his hand was kindly squeezed.
 
 TRIBULATIONS, ETC., OF THE COUNTESS. 245 
 
 "My darling Evan, you will not ride again P" Caroline 
 cried, kissing him on the steps ; and the Duke watched the 
 operation, and the Countess observed the Duke. 
 
 That Providence should select her sweetest moments to 
 deal her wounds, was cruel ; but the Countess just then dis- 
 tinctly heard Mr. George Uploft ask Miss Carrington: "Is 
 that lady a Harrington ? " 
 
 " Tou perceive a likeness ? " was the answer. 
 
 Mr. George went " Whew ! — tit — tit — tit ! " with the pro- 
 found expression of a very slow mind. 
 
 The scene was quickly over. There was barely an hour 
 for the ladies to dress for dinner. Leaving Evan in the 
 doctor's hand, and telling Caroline to dress in her room, the 
 Countess met Rose, and gratified her vindictiveness, while she 
 furthered her projects, by saying : 
 
 " JVoi till my brother is quite convalescent will it be advis- 
 able that you should visit him. I am compelled to think of 
 him entirely now. In his present state he is not fit to be 
 played with." 
 
 Rose, steadfastly eyeing her, seemed to swallow down 
 something in her throat, and said : 
 
 " I will obey you. Countess. I hoped you would allow me 
 to nurse him." 
 
 " Quite above all things. Rose Jocelyn ! " returned the 
 Countess, with the suavity of a governess, who must be civil 
 in her sourness. " If you would not complete this morning's 
 achievement — stay away." 
 
 The Countess declined to see that Rose's lip quivered. She 
 saw an unpleasantness in the bottom of her eyes ; and now 
 that her brother's decease was not even remotely to be appre- 
 hended, she herself determined to punish the cold, unimpres- 
 sionable coquette of a girl. Before returning to Caroline, she 
 had five minutes' conversation with Juliana, which fully 
 determined her to continue the campaign at Beckley Court, 
 commence decisive movements, and not to retreat, though 
 fifty George Uplofts menaced her. Consequently, having 
 dismissed Conning on a messsage to Harry Jocelyn to ask him 
 for a list of the names of the new people they were to meet 
 that day at dinner, she said to Caroline ;
 
 246 EVAN HAEKINGTON. 
 
 " My dear, I think it will be incumbent on us to depart 
 very quickly." 
 
 Much to the Countess's chagrin and astonishment, Caroline 
 
 replied : 
 
 " I shaU hardly be sorry." 
 
 " Not sorry ? Why, what now, dear one ? Is it true, 
 then, that a flagellated female kisses the rod ? Are you so 
 eager for a repetition of Strike ? " 
 
 Caroline, with some hesitation, related to her more than 
 the Countess had ventured to petition for in her prayers. 
 
 "Oh! how exceedingly generous! " the latter exclaimed. 
 " How very refreshing to think that there are nobles in your 
 England as romantic, as courteous, as delicate as our own 
 foreign ones ! But his Grace is quite an exceptional noble- 
 man. Are you not touched, dearest Carry ?" 
 
 Caroline pensively glanced at the reflection of her beautiful 
 arm in the glass, and sighed, pushing back the hair from her 
 temples. 
 
 " But, for mercy's sake ! " resumed the Countess, in alarm 
 at the sigh, " do not be too — too touched. Do, pray, preserve 
 your wits. You weep ! Caroline, Caroline ! my good- 
 ness ; it is just five-and-twenty minutes to the first dinner- 
 bell, and you are crying ! For God's sake, think of you face ! 
 Are you going to be a Gorgon ? And you show the marks 
 twice as long as any other, you fair women. Squinnying 
 like this ! Caroline, for your Louisa's sake, do not ! " 
 
 Hissing which, half angrily and half with entreaty, the 
 Countess dropped on her knees. Caroline's fit of tears sub- 
 sided. The eldest of the sisters, she was the kindest, the 
 fairest, the weakest. 
 
 " Not," said the blandishing Countess, when Caroline's 
 face was clearer, " not that my best of Carry s does not look 
 delicious in her shower. Cry, with your hair down, and you 
 would subdue any male creature on two legs. And that 
 reminds me of that most audacious Marquis de Bemilla. He 
 saw a dirty drab of a fruit-girl crying in Lisbon streets one 
 day, as he was riding in the carriage of the Duchesse de Col 
 da Eosta, and her husband and duena, and he had a letter for 
 her — the Duchesse. They loved ! How deliver the letter ?
 
 • TllIBULATIONS, ETC., OF THE COUNTESS. 247 
 
 " Save me ! " he cried to the Duchesse, catching her hand, 
 and pressing his heart, as if very sick. The Duchess felt 
 the paper — turned her hand over on. her knee, and he with- 
 drew his. What does my Carry think was the excuse he 
 tendered the Duke ? This — and this gives you some idea of 
 the wonderful audacity of those dear Portuguese — that he — 
 he must precipitate himself and marry any woman he saw 
 weep, and be her slave for the term of his natural life, unless 
 another woman's hand at the same moment restrained him ! 
 There ! " and the Countess's eyes shone brightly. 
 
 "How excessively imbecile! " Caroline remarked, hitherto 
 a passive listener to these Lusitanian contes. 
 
 It was the first sign she had yet given of her late inter- 
 course with a positive Duke, and the Countess felt it, and 
 drew back. No more anecdotes for Caroline, to whom she 
 quietly said : 
 
 " You are very English, dear ! " 
 
 " But now, the Duke — ^his Grace," she went on, " how did 
 he inaugurate? " 
 
 ** I spoke to him of Evan's position. God forgive me ! — I 
 said that was the cause of my looks being sad." 
 
 " Tou could have thought of nothing better," interposed 
 the Countess. "Yes?" 
 
 " He said, if he might clear them he should be happy." 
 
 "In exquisite language, Carry, of course." 
 
 " No ; just as others talk." 
 
 " Hum ! " went the Countess, and issued again brightly 
 from a cloud of reflection, with the remark : "It was to 
 seem business-like — the commerciality of the English mind. 
 To the point — / know. "Well, you perceive, my sweetest, 
 that Evan's interests are in your hands. You dare not quit 
 the field. In one week, I fondly trust, he will be secure. 
 "What more did his Grace say ? May we not be the repository 
 of such delicious secresies ? " 
 
 Caroline gave tremulous indications about the lips, and the 
 Countess jumped to the bell and rang it, for they were too 
 near dinner for the trace of a single tear to be permitted. 
 The bell and the appearance of Conning efi'ectually checked 
 the flood.
 
 248 EVAN HAKKINGTON. 
 
 While speaking to her sister, the Countess had hesitated 
 to mention George Uploft's name, hoping that, as he had no 
 dinner-suit, he wovild not stop to dinner that day, and would 
 fall to the charge of Lady Eoseley once more. Conning, 
 however, brought in a sheet of paper on which the names of 
 the guests were written out by Harry, a daily piece of service 
 he performed for the captivating dame, and George Uploft's 
 name was in the list. 
 
 " We will do the rest, Conning — retire," she said, and then 
 folding Caroline in her arms, murmured, the moment they 
 were alone, " Will my Carry dress her hair plain to-day, for 
 the love of her Louisa ? " 
 
 " Goodness ! what a request ! " exclaimed Caroline, throw- 
 ing back her head to see if her Louisa could be serious. 
 
 "Most inexplicable — is it not ? Will she do it ? " 
 
 " Flat, dear? It makes a fright of me." 
 
 " Possibly. May I beg it ? " 
 
 " But why, dearest, why ? If I only knew why ! " 
 
 " For the love of your Louy." 
 
 " Plain along the temples ? " 
 
 "And a knot behind." 
 
 "And a band along the forehead ?'' 
 
 " Gems, if they meet your favour." 
 
 " But my cheek-bones, Louisa ? " 
 
 "They are not too prominent, Carry.** 
 
 " Curls relieve them." 
 
 " The change will relieve the curls, dear one." 
 
 Caroline looked in the glass, at the Countess, as polished a 
 reflector, and fell into a chair. Her hair was accustomed to 
 roU across her shoulders in heavy curls. The Duke would 
 find a change of the sort singular. She should not at all 
 know herself with her hair done differently : and for a lovely 
 woman to be transformed to a fright is hard to bear in soU- 
 tude, or in imagination. 
 
 " Eeally ! " she petitioned. 
 
 "Eeally — yes, or no ? " added the Countess. 
 
 " So unaccountable a whim ! " Caroline looked in the glass 
 dolefully, and pulled up her thick locks from one cheek, 
 letting them fall on the instant.
 
 TRIBULATIONS, ETC., OF THE COUNTESS. 249 
 
 " She will ? " breathed the Countess. 
 
 " I really cannot," said Caroline, with vehemence. 
 
 The Countess burst into laughter, replying : " My poor 
 child! it is not my whim — it is your obligation. George 
 Uploft dines here to-day. Now do you divine it ? Disguise 
 is imperative for you." 
 
 Mrs. Strike, gazing in her sister's face, answered slowly, 
 
 " George ? But how will you meet him '? " she hurriedly 
 
 asked. 
 
 " I have met him," rejoined the Countess, boldly. " I 
 defy him to know me. I brazen him ! Tou with your hair 
 in my style are equally safe. You see there is no choice. 
 Pooh ! contemptible puppy ! " 
 
 "But I never," — Caroline was going to say she never 
 could face him. " I will not dine. I will nurse Evan." 
 
 " You have faced him, my dear," said the Countess, " and 
 you are to change your head-dress simply to throw him off his 
 scent." 
 
 As she spoke the Countess tripped about, nodding her 
 head like a girl. Triumph in the sense of her power over all 
 she came in contact with, rather elated the lady. 
 
 Do you see why she worked her sister in this roundabout 
 fashion ? She would not tell her George Uploft was in the 
 house till she was sure he intended to stay, for fear of 
 frightening her. When the necessity became apparent, she 
 put it under the pretext of a whim in order to see how far 
 Caroline, whose weak compliance she could count on, and 
 whose reticence concerning the Duke annoyed her, would 
 submit to it to please her sister ; and if she rebelled positively, 
 why to be sure it was the Duke she dreaded to shock : and, 
 therefore, the Duke had a peculiar hold on her : and, there- 
 fore, the Countess might reckon that she would do more than 
 she pleased to coniess to remain with the Duke, and was 
 manageable in that quarter. All this she learnt without ask- 
 ing. I need not add, that Caroline sighingly did her bidding. 
 
 " "We must all be victims in our turn, Carry," said the 
 Countess. " Evan's prospects — it may be, Silva's restoration 
 — depend upon your hair being dressed plain to-day. Reflect 
 on that ! "
 
 250 EVAN HAERINGTON. 
 
 Poor Caroline obeyed; but she was capable of reflecting 
 only that her face was unnaturally lean and strange to 
 her. 
 
 The sisters tended and arranged one another, taking care 
 to push their mourning a month or two a -head : and the 
 Countess animadverted on the vulgar mind of Lady Jocelyn, 
 who would allow a " gentleman to sit down at a gentlewoman's 
 table, in full company, in pronounced undress:" and Caroline, 
 utterly miserable, would pretend that she wore a mask and 
 kept grimacing as they do who are not accustomed to paint 
 on the cheeks, till the Countess checked her by telling her 
 she should ask her for that before the Duke. 
 
 After a visit to Evan, the sisters sailed together into the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 "Uniformity is sometimes a gain," murmured the Countess, 
 as they were parting in the middle of the room. She saw 
 that their fine figures, and profiles, and resemblance in con- 
 trast, produced an efifect. The Duke wore one of those calmly 
 intent looks by which men show they are aware of change 
 in the heavens they study, and are too devout worshippers 
 to presume to disapprove. Mr. George was standing by Miss 
 Carrington, and he also watched Mrs. Strike. To bewilder 
 him yet more the Countess persisted in fixing her eyes upon 
 his heterodox apparel, and Mr. George became conscious and 
 uneasy. Miss Carrington had to address her question to him 
 twice before he heard. Melville Jocelyn, Sir John Loring, 
 Sir Franks, and Hamilton surrounded the Countess, and told 
 her what they had decided on with regard to the election 
 during the day ; for Melville was warm in his assertion that 
 they would not talk to the Countess five minutes without 
 getting a hint worth having. 
 
 " Call to us that man who is habited like a groom," said 
 the Countess, indicating Mr. George. "I presume he is in 
 his right place up here ? " 
 
 "Whew — take care, Countess — our best man. He's good 
 for a dozen," said Hamilton. 
 
 Mr. George was brought over and introduced to the 
 Countess de Saldar. 
 
 ** So the oldest Tory in the county is a fox?" she said, in
 
 TRIBULATIONS, ETC., OF THE COUNTESS. 251 
 
 allusion to the hunt. Fever did Caroline Strike admire her 
 sister's fearful genius more than at that moment. 
 
 Mr. George ducked and rolled his hand over his chin, with 
 " ah-um ! " and the Kke, ended by a dry laugh. 
 
 " Are you our supporter, Mr. Uploft?" 
 
 " Tory interest, ma-um — my lady." 
 
 " And are you staunch and may be trusted? " 
 
 " 'Pon my honour, I think I have that reputation." 
 
 "And you would not betray us if we give you any 
 secrets? Say * 'Pon my honour,' again. You launch it out 
 so courageously." 
 
 The men laughed, though they could not see what the 
 Countess was driving at. She had for two minutes spoken 
 as she spoke when a girl, and George — entirely off his guard 
 and unsuspicious — looked unenlightened. If he knew, there 
 were hints enough for him in her words. If he remained 
 blind, they might pass as air. The appearance of the butler 
 cut short his protestation as to his powers of secresy. 
 
 The Countess dismissed him. 
 
 "You will be taken into our confidence when we require 
 you." And she resumed her foreign air in a most elaborate 
 and overwhelming bow. 
 
 She was now perfectly t/atisfied that she was safe from 
 Mr. George, and, as she thoroughly detested the youthful 
 squire, she chose to propagate a laugh at him by saying, with 
 the utmost languor and clearness of voice, as they descended 
 the stairs : 
 
 "After all, a very clever fox may be a very dull dog — 
 don't you think ? " 
 
 Gentlemen in front of her, and behind, heard it, and at 
 Mr. George's expense her reputation rose. 
 
 Thus the genius of this born general prompted her to adopt 
 the principle in tactics — boldly to strike when you are in 
 the dark as to your enemy's movements.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 TS WHICH THE DAUGHTERS OF THE GEEAT MEL HAYE TO 
 DIGEST HIM AT DINNEE. 
 
 You must know, if you would form an estimate of the 
 Countess's heroic impudence, that a rumour was current in 
 Lymport that the fair and well-developed Louisa Harrington, 
 in her sixteenth year, did advisedly, and with the intention 
 of rendering the term indefinite, entrust her guileless person 
 to Mr. George Uploft's honourable charge. The rumour, un- 
 flavoured by absolute malignity, was such ; and it went on 
 to say, that the sublime Mel, alive to the honour of his 
 family, followed the fugitives with a pistol, and with a horse- 
 whip, that he might chastise the offender according to the 
 degree of his offence. It was certain that he had not used 
 the pistol: it was said that he had used the whip. The details 
 of the interview between Mel and Mr. George were numerous, 
 but at the same time various. Some declared that he put a 
 pistol to Mr. George's ear, and under pressure of that per- 
 suader got him into the presence of a clergyman, when he 
 turned sulky ; and when the pistol was again produced, the 
 ceremony would have been performed, had not the outraged 
 Church cried out for help. Some vowed that Mr. George 
 had referred all questions implying a difference between 
 himself and Mel to their mutual fists for decision. At 
 any rate, Mr. George turned up in Fallowfield subsequently; 
 the fair Louisa, unhurt and with a quiet mind, in Lymport ; 
 and this amount of truth the rumours can be reduced to — 
 that Louisa and Mr. George had been acquainted. Rumour 
 and gossip know how to build : they always have some solid 
 foundation, however small. 
 
 Upwards of twelve years had run since Louisa went to the 
 wife of the brewer — a period quite long enough for Mr. 
 George to forget any one in ; and she was altogether a 
 different creature ; and, as it was true that Mr. George was
 
 THE DINNER. 253 
 
 a dull one, she was, after the test she had put him to, justified 
 in hoping that Mel's progeny might pass unchallenged any- 
 where out of Lymport. So, with Mr. George facing her at 
 table, the Countess sat down, determined to eat and be 
 happy. 
 
 A man with the education and tastes of a young country 
 squire is not likely to know much of the character of women ; 
 and of the marvellous power they have of throwing a veil of 
 oblivion between themselves and what they don't want to 
 remember, few men know much. Mr. George had thought, 
 when he saw Mrs. Strike leaning to Evan, and heard she 
 was a Harrington, that she was rather like the Lymport 
 family ; but the reappearance of Mrs. Strike, the attention of 
 the Duke of Belfield to her, and the splendid tactics of the 
 Countess, which had extinguished every thought in the 
 thought of himself, drove Lymport out of his mind. 
 
 There were some dinner guests at the table — people of 
 Fallowfield, Beckley, and Bodley. The Countess had the 
 diplomatist on one side, the Duke on the other. Caroline 
 was under the charge of Sir Franks. The Countess, almost 
 revelling in her position opposite Mr. George, was ambi- 
 tious to lead the conversation, and commenced, smiling at 
 MelviUe : 
 
 ""We are to be spared politics to-day? I think politics 
 and cookery do not assimilate." 
 
 " I'm afraid you won't teach the true Briton to agree with 
 you," said Melville, shaking his head over the sums involved 
 by this British propensity. 
 
 " No," said Seymour. " Election dinners are a part of the 
 Constitution : " and Andi'ew laughed : " They make Radicals 
 pay as well as Tories, so it's pretty square." 
 
 The topic was taken up, flagged, fell, and was taken up 
 again. And then Harry Jocelyn said : 
 
 " I say, have you worked the flags yet? The great Mel 
 must have his flags." 
 
 The flags were in the hands of ladies, and ladies would 
 look to the rosettes, he was told. 
 
 Then a lady of the name of Barrington laughed lightly, 
 and said :
 
 254 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 " Only, pray, my dear Harry, don't call your uncle the 
 ' Great Mel ' at the election." 
 
 " Oh ! very well," quoth Harry : " why not ? " 
 
 " You'll get him laughed at — that's all." 
 
 "Oh! well, then, I won't," said Harry, whose wits were 
 attracted by the Countess's visage. 
 
 Mrs. Barrington turned to Seymour, her neighbour, and 
 resumed : 
 
 " He really would be laughed at. There was a tailor — 
 he was called the Great Mel — and he tried to stand for Fal- 
 lowfield once. I believe he had the support of Squire TJp- 
 loft — George's uncle — and others. They must have done it 
 for fun ! Of course he did not get so far as the hustings ; 
 but I believe he had flags, and principles, and all sorts of 
 things worked ready. He certainly canvassed." 
 
 " A tailor — canvassed — for Parliament? " remarked an old 
 Dowager, the mother of Squire Copping. " My ! what are 
 we coming to next ? " 
 
 " He deserved to get in," quoth Aunt Bel : " After 
 having his principles worked ready, to eject the man was 
 infamous." 
 
 Amazed at the mine she had sprung, the Countess sat 
 through it, lamenting the misery of owning a notorious 
 father. Happily Evan was absent, on his peaceful blessed 
 bed! 
 
 Bowing over wine witt the Duke, she tried another 
 theme, while still, like a pertinacious cracker, the Great Mel 
 kept banging up and down the table. 
 
 ""We are to have a feast in the open air, I hear. What 
 you call pic-nic." 
 
 The Duke believed there was a project of the sort. 
 
 " How exquisitely they do those things in Portugal ! I 
 suppose there would be no scandal in my telling something 
 now. At least we are out of Court-jurisdiction." 
 
 "Scandal of the Court!" exclaimed his Grace, in mock 
 horror. 
 
 " The option is yours to listen. The Queen, when young, 
 was sweetly pretty; a divine complexion; and a habit of 
 smiling on everybody. I presume that the young Habral, 
 son of the first magistrate of Lisbon, was also smiled on.
 
 THE DINNER. 255 
 
 Most innocently, I would swear ! But it operated on tlie 
 wretched youth ! He spent all his fortune in the purchase 
 and decoration of a fairy villa, bordering on the Val das 
 Eosas, where the Court enjoyed its rustic festivities, and one 
 day a storm ! all the ladies hurried their young mistress to 
 the house where the young Habral had been awaiting her for 
 ages. None so polished as he ! Musicians started up, the 
 floors were ready, and torches beneath them ! — there was a 
 feast of exquisite wines and viands sparkling. Quite en- 
 chantment. The girl-Queen was in ecstasies. She deigned 
 a dance with the young Habral, and then all sat down to 
 supper ; and in the middle of it came the cry of Fire ! The 
 Queen shrieked ; the flames were seen all around ; and if the 
 arms of the young Habral were opened to save her, or perish, 
 could she cast a thought on Royalty, and refuse? The 
 Queen was saved, the villa was burnt; the young Habral 
 was ruined, but, if / know a Portuguese, he was happy till 
 he died, and well remunerated ! For he had held a Queen 
 to his heart ! So that was a pic-nic ! " 
 
 The Duke slightly inclined his head. 
 
 "Yrai Portughez derrendo," he said. "They tell a 
 similar story in Spain, of one of the Queens — I forget her 
 name. The difference between us and your Peninsular 
 cavaliers is, that we would do as much for uncrowned 
 ladies." 
 
 " Ah ! your Grace ! " The Countess swam in the pleasure 
 of a nobleman's compliment. 
 
 " "What's the story ? " interposed Aunt Bel. 
 
 An outline of it was given her. Thank heaven, the table 
 was now rid of the Great Mel. For how could he have any, 
 the remotest relation with Queens and Peninsular pic-nics? 
 You shall hear. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn happened to catch a word or two of the 
 story. 
 
 " "Why," said she, " that's English ! Franks, you re- 
 member the ballet divertissement they improvised at the 
 Bodley race-ball, when the magnificent footman fired a cur- 
 tain and caught up Lady Eoseley, and carried her — " 
 
 " Heaven knows where ! " cried Sir Franks. " I remember
 
 256 EVAN HARRINGTON". 
 
 it perfectly. It was said that the magnificent footman did it 
 on purpose to have that pleasure." 
 
 " Ay, of course," Hamilton took him up. " They talked 
 of prosecuting the magnificent footman." 
 
 " Ay," followed Seymour, " and nobody could tell where 
 the magnificent footman bolted. He vanished into thin 
 air." 
 
 "Ay, of course," Melville struck in; " and the magic en- 
 veloped the lady for some time." 
 
 At this point Mr. George Uploft gave a horse-laugh. He 
 jerked in his seat excitedly. 
 
 "Bodley race-ball!" he cried; and looking at Lady 
 Jocelyn : *' "Was your ladyship there, then P Why — ha ! ha ! 
 why, you hawe seen the Great Mel, then ! That tremendous 
 footman was old Mel himself! " 
 
 Lady Jocelyn struck both her hands on the table, and 
 rested her large grey eyes, full of humorous surprise, on Mr. 
 George. 
 
 There was a pause, and then the ladies and gentlemen 
 laughed. 
 
 "Yes," Mr. George went on, "that was old Mel. I'll 
 swear to him." 
 
 " And that's how it began ? " murmured Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 Mr. George nodded at his plate discreetly. 
 
 " "Well," said Lady Jocelyn, leaning back, and lifting her 
 face upward in the discixrsive fulness of her fancy, " I feel I 
 am not robbed. II y a des miracles, et j'en ai vus. One's 
 life seems more perfect when one has seen what nature can 
 do. The fellow was stupendous ! I conceive him present. 
 Who'll fire a house for me ? Is it my deficiency of attrac- 
 tion, or a total dearth of gallant snobs ? " 
 
 The Countess was drowned. The muscles of her smiles 
 were horribly stiff and painful. Caroline was getting pale. 
 Could it be accident that thus resuscitated Mel, their father, 
 and would not let the dead man die ? Was not malice at 
 the bottom of it? The Countess, though she hated Mr. 
 George infinitely, was clear-headed enough to see that Pro- 
 vidence alone was trying her. No glances were exchanged 
 between him and Laxley, or Drummond.
 
 THE DINNER. 257 
 
 Again Mel returned to his peace, and again he had to 
 come forth. 
 
 "Who was this singular man you were speaking about 
 just now ? " Mrs. Evremonde asked. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn answered her : " The light of his age. The 
 embodied protest against our social prejudice. Combine — 
 say, Mirabeau and Alcibiades, and the result is the Lymport 
 Tailor : — he measures your husband in the morning : in tho 
 evening he makes love to you, through a series of panto- 
 mimic transformations. He was a colossal Adonis, and I'm 
 sorry he's dead!" 
 
 " But did the man get into society ? " said Mrs. Evre- 
 monde. " How did he manage that ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! and what sort of a society ! " the dowager 
 Copping interjected. " None but bachelor-tables, I can 
 assure you. Oh ! I remember him. They talked of fetching 
 him to Dox Hall. I said, No, thank you, Tom ; this isn't 
 your Vauxhall." 
 
 "A sharp retort," said Lady Jocelyn, " a most conclusive 
 rhyme ; but you're mistaken. Many families were glad to 
 see him, I hear. And he only consented to be treated like 
 a footman when he dressed like one. The fellow had some 
 capital points. He fought two or three duels, and behaved 
 like a man. Franks wouldn't have him here, or I would 
 have received him. I hear that, as a conteur, he was inimit- 
 able. In short, he was a robust Brummel, and the Eegent 
 of low life." 
 
 This should have been Mel's final epitaph. 
 
 Unhappily, Mrs. Melville would remark, in her mincing 
 manner, that the idea of the admission of a tailor into society 
 seemed very unnatural; and Aunt Bel confessed that her 
 experience did not comprehend it. 
 
 "As to that," said Lady Jocelyn, ''phenomena are un- 
 natural. The rules of society are lightened by the exceptions. 
 "What I like in this Mel is, that though he was a snob, and 
 an impostor, he could still make himself respected by his 
 betters. He was honest, so far ; he acknowledged his tastes, 
 which were those of Pranks, Melville, Seymour, and George 
 — the tastes of a gentleman. I prefer him infinitely to your
 
 258 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 cowardly democrat, who barks for what he can't get, and is 
 generally beastly. In fact, I'm not sure that I haven't a 
 secret passion for the great tailor." 
 
 "After all, old Mel wasn't so bad," Mr. George Uploft 
 chimed in. " Granted a tailor — you didn't see a bit of it at 
 table. I've known him taken for a lord. And when he 
 once got hold of you, you couldn't give him up. The Squire 
 met him first in the coach, one winter. He took him for a 
 Russian nobleman — didn't find out what he was for a month 
 or so. Says Mel, ' Yes, I make clothes. You find the 
 notion unpleasant; guess how disagreeable it is to me.' The 
 old Squire laughed, and was glad to have him at Croftlands 
 as often as he chose to come. Old Mel and I used to spar 
 sometimes ; but he's gone, and I should like to shake his fist 
 again." 
 
 Then Mr. George told the * Bath ' story, and episodes in 
 Mel's career as Marquis ; and while he held the ear of the 
 table, Rose, who had not spoken a word, and had scarcely 
 eaten a morsel during dinner, studied the sisters with serious 
 eyes. Only when she turned them from the Countess to 
 Mrs. Strike, they were softened by a shadowy drooping 
 of the eyelids, as if for some reason she deeply pitied that 
 lady. 
 
 Next to Rose sat Drummond, with a face expressive of 
 cynical enjoyment. He devoted uncommon attention to the 
 Countess, whom he usually shunned and overlooked. He 
 invited her to exchange bows over wine, in the fashion of 
 that day, and the Countess went through the performance with 
 finished grace and ease. Poor Andrew had all the time been 
 brushing back his hair, and making strange deprecatory 
 sounds in his throat, like a man who felt bound to assure 
 everybody at table he was perfectly happy and comfortable. 
 
 "Material enough for a Sartoriad," said Drummond to 
 Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 "Excellent. Pray write it forthwith, Drummond," re- 
 plied her ladyship ; and as they exchanged talk unintelli- 
 gible to the Countess, this lady observed to the Duke : 
 
 " It is a relief to have buried that subject." 
 
 The Duke smiled, raising an eyebrow ; but the persecuted
 
 THE DINNER. 259 
 
 Countess perceived she had been much too hasty when 
 Drumraond added, 
 
 "I'll make a journey to Lymport in a day or two, and 
 master his history." 
 
 "Do," said her ladyship; and flourishing her hand, " 'I 
 sing the Prince of Snobs ! ' " 
 
 " Oh, if it's about old Mell, I'll sing you material enough," 
 said Mr. George. " There ! you talk of it's being imnatural, 
 his dining out at respectable tables. Why, I believe — upon 
 my honour, I believe it's a fact — he's supped and thrown dice 
 with the Regent." 
 
 Lady Jocelyn clapped her hands. " A noble culmination, 
 Drummond ! The man's an Epic ! " 
 
 " Well, I think old Mel was equal to it," Mr. George pur- 
 sued. "He gave me pretty broad hints; and this is how it 
 was, if it really happened, you know. Old Mel had a friend ; 
 some say he was more. Well, that was a fellow, a great 
 gambler. I dare say you've heard of him — Burley Bennet — 
 him that won Eyelands Park of one of the royal dukes — died 
 worth upwards of £100,000 ; and old Mel swore he ought to 
 have had it, and would if he hadn't somehow offended him. 
 He left the money to Admiral Harrington, and he was a 
 relation of Mel's." 
 
 "But are we then utterly mixed up with tailors?" ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Barrington. 
 
 "Well, those are the facts," said Mr. George. 
 
 The wine made the young squire talkative. It is my belief 
 that his suspicions were not awake at that moment, and that, 
 like any other young country squire, having got a subject he 
 could talk on, he did not care to discontinue it. The Coun- 
 tess was past the effort to attempt to stop him. She had work 
 enough to keep her smile in the right place. 
 
 Every dinner may be said to have its special topic, just as 
 every age has its marked reputation. They are put up twice 
 or thrice, and have to contend with minor lights, and to swal- 
 low them, and then they command the tongues of men and 
 flow uninterruptedly. So it was with the great Mel upon 
 this occasion. Curiosity was aroused about him. Aunt Bel 
 agreed with Lady Jocelyn that she would have liked to 
 
 s2
 
 260 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 know the mighty tailor. Mrs. Shorne tut very impercep- 
 tibly i^rotested against the notion, and from one to another 
 it ran. His Grace of Belfield expressed positive apj)roval 
 of Mel as one of the old school. 
 
 " Si ce n'est pas le gentilhomme, au moins, c'est le gentil- 
 homme manque," said Lady Jocelyn. "He is to be regretted, 
 Duke. You are right. The stuff was in him, but the Fates 
 were unkind. I stretch out my hand to the pauvre diable." 
 
 " I think one learns more from the mock magnifico than 
 from anything else," observed his Grace. 
 
 " When the lion saw the donkey in his own royal skin," 
 said Aunt Bell, " add the rhyme at your discretion — ^he 
 was a wiser lion, that's all." 
 
 "And the ape that strives to copy one — ^he's an animal 
 of judgement," said Lady Jocelyn. " We will be tolerant 
 to the tailor, and the Countess must not set us down as a 
 nation of shopkeepers : philosophically tolerant." 
 
 The Countess started, and ran a little broken "Oh!" 
 affably out of her throat, dipped her lips to her table- 
 napkin, and resumed her smile. 
 
 "Yes," pursued her ladyship ; " old Mel stamps the age 
 gone by. The gallant adventurer tied to his shop ! Alter- 
 nate footman and marquis, out of intermediate tailor! Isn't 
 <here something fine in his buffoon imitation of the real 
 thing ? I feel already that old Mel belongs to me. Where is 
 the great man buiied? Where have they set the funeral 
 brass that holds his mighty ashes ? " 
 
 Lady Jocelyn's humour was fully entered into by the men. 
 The women smiled vacantly, and had a common thought that 
 it was ill-bred of her to hold forth in that way at table, and 
 unfeminine of anj'- woman to speak continuously anywhere 
 — except, perhaps, in bed. 
 
 " Oh, come ! " cried Mr. George, who saw his own subject 
 snapped away from him by sheer cleverness ; "old Mel wasn't 
 only a buffoon, my lady, you know. Old Mel had his qua- 
 lities. He was as much a ' no-nonsense ' fellow, in his way, 
 as a magistrate, or a minister." 
 
 "Or a king, or a constable," Aunt Bel helped his 
 illustration.
 
 THE DINNER. 261 
 
 "Or a prince, a poll-parrot, a Perigord-pie," added Drum- 
 mond, whose gravity did not prevent Mr. George from seeing 
 that he was laughed at. 
 
 ""Well, then, now, listen to this," said Mr. George, leaning 
 his two hands on the table resolutely. Dessert was laid, and, 
 with a full glass beside him, and a pear to peel, he determined 
 to be heard. 
 
 The Countess's eyes went mentally up to the vindictive 
 heavens. She stole a glance at Caroline, and was alarmed 
 at her excessive pallor. Providence had rescued Evan from 
 this! 
 
 " Now, I know this to be true," Mr. George began. 
 " "When old Mel was alive, he and I had plenty of sparring, 
 and that — but he's dead, and I'll do him justice. I spoke of 
 Burley Bennet just now. Now, my lady, old Burley was, 1 
 think, Mel's half-brother, and he came, I know, somewhere 
 out of Drury Lane — one of the courts near the theatre — I 
 don't know much of London. However, old Mel wouldn't 
 have that. Nothing less than being born in St. James's 
 Square would content old Mel, and he must have a Marquis 
 for his father. I needn't be more particular. Before ladies 
 — ahem ! But Burley was the shrewd hand of the two. 
 Oh-h-h ! such a card ! He knew the way to get into com- 
 pany without false pretences. Well, I told you, he had lots 
 more than 100,000^. — some said two — and he gave up Rye- 
 lands; never asked for it, though he won it. Consequence 
 was, he commanded the services of somebody pretty high. 
 And it was he got Admiral Harrington made a captain, 
 posted, commodore, admiral, and K.C.B., all in seven years! 
 In theArmy it'd have been half the time, for the H.R.H. was 
 stronger in that department. Now, I know old Burley pro- 
 mised Mel to leave him his money, and called the Admiral an 
 ungrateful dog. He didn't give Mel much at a time — now 
 and then a twenty-pounder or so — I saw the cheques. And 
 old Mel expected the money, and looked over his daughters 
 like a turkey-cock. Nobody good enough for them. "Whack- 
 ing handsome gals — three ! used to be called the Three Graces 
 of Lymport. And one day Burley comes and visits Mel, and 
 sees the girls. And he puts his finger on the eldest, I can 
 tell you. She was a spanker ! She was the handsomest gal,
 
 262 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 I think, ever I saw. For the mother's a fine woman, and 
 what with the mother, and what with old Mel — " 
 
 " "We won't enter into the mysteries of origin," quoth Lady 
 Jocelyn. 
 
 "Exactly, my lady. Oh, your servant, of course. Before 
 
 ladies. A Burley Bennet, I said. Long and short was, 
 
 he wanted to take her up to London. Says old Mel : ' London's 
 a sad place.' ' Place to make money,' says Burley. ' That's 
 not work for a young gal,' says Mel. Long and short was, 
 Burley wanted to take her, and Mel wouldn't let her go." 
 Mr. George lowered his tone, and mumbled, " Don't know 
 how to explain it very well before ladies. What Burley 
 wanted was — it wasn't quite honourable, you know, though 
 there was a good deal of spangles on it, and whether a real 
 H.R.H., or a Marquis, or a Yiscount, I can't say, but the 
 offer was tempting to a tradesman. 'No,' says Mel, like a 
 chap planting his flagstaff and sticking to it. I believe that 
 to get her to go with hira, Burley offered to make a will 
 on the spot, and to leave every farthing of his money and pro- 
 perty — upon my soul, I believe it to be true — to Mel and his 
 family, if he'd let the gal go. 'No,' says Mel. I like the 
 old bird! And Burley got in a rage, and said he'd leave 
 every farthing to the sailor. Says Mel : ' I'm a poor trades- 
 man ; but I have and I always will have the feelings of a 
 gentleman, and they're more to me than hard cash, and the 
 honour of my daughter, sir, is dearer to me than my blood. 
 Out of the house ! ' cries Mel. And away old Burley went, 
 and left every penny to the sailor, Admiral Harrington, 
 who never noticed 'em an inch. Now, there ! " 
 
 All had listened to Mr. George attentively, and he had 
 slurred the apologetic passages, and emphasized the pro- 
 pitiatory ' before ladies ' in a way to make himself well 
 understood a generation back. 
 
 " Bravo, old Mel ! " rang the voice of Lady Jocelyn, and a 
 murmur ensued, in the midst of which Eose stood up and 
 hurried round the table to Mrs. Strike, who was seen to rise 
 from her chair ; and as she did so, the ill-arranged locks fell 
 from their unnatural restraint down over her shoulders ; one 
 great curl half forward to the bosom, and one behind her right
 
 TREATS OF A HANDKERCHIEF. 263 
 
 ear. Her eyes were wide, her whole face, neck, and fingers, 
 white as mai'ble. The faintest tremor of a frown on her 
 brows, and her shut lips, marked the continuation of some 
 internal struggle, as if with her last conscious force she kept 
 down a flood of tears and a wild outcry which it was death to 
 hold. Sir Franks felt his arm touched, and looked up, and 
 caught her, as Rose approached. The Duke and other gentle- 
 men went to his aid, and as the beautiful woman was borne 
 out white and still as a corpse, the Countess had this dagger 
 plunged in her heart from the mouth of Mr. George, address- 
 ing Miss Carrington : 
 
 " I swear I didn't do it on purpose. She's Carry Harring- 
 ton, old Mel's daughter, as sure as she's flesh and blood! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 TREATS OF A HANDKERCHIEF. 
 
 Rtinning through Beckley Park, clear from the chalk, a 
 little stream gave light and freshness to its pasturage. Near 
 where it entered, a bathing-house of white marble had been 
 built, under which the water flowed, and the dive could be 
 taken to a paved depth, and you swam out over a pebbly 
 bottom into sun-light, screened by the thick-weeded banks, 
 loose-strife and willow-herb, and mint, nodding over you, and 
 in the later season long-plumed yellow grasses. Here at sunrise 
 the young men washed their limbs, and here since her return 
 home English Hose loved to walk by night. She had often 
 spoken of the little happy stream to Evan in Portugal, and 
 when he came to Beckley Court, she arranged that he should 
 sleep in a bed-room overlooking it. The view was sweet 
 and pleasant to him, for all the babbling of the water was of 
 Rose, and winding in and out, to East, toNorth, it wound to 
 embowered hopes in the lover's mind, to tender dreams; and 
 often at dawn, when dressing, his restless heart embarked on 
 it, and sailed into havens, the phantom joys of which coloured
 
 264 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 his life for him all the day. But most he loved to look across 
 it when the light fell. The palest solitary gleam along its 
 course spoke to him rich promise. The faint blue beam of a 
 star chained all his longings, charmed his sorrows to sleep. 
 Kose like a fairy had breathed her spirit here, and it was a 
 delight to the silly luxurious youth to lie down, and fix some 
 image of a flower bending to the stream on his brain, and 
 in the cradle of fancies that grew round it, slide down the 
 tide of sleep. 
 
 Prom the image of a flower bending to the stream, like his 
 own soul to the bosom of Rose, Evan built sweet fables. It 
 was she that exalted him, that led him through glittering 
 chapters of adventure. In his dream of deeds achieved for 
 her sake, you may be sure the young man behaved worthily, 
 though he was modest when she praised him, and his limbs 
 trembled when the land whispered of his great reward to 
 come. The longer he stayed at Beckley the more he lived in 
 this world within world, and if now and then the harsh outer 
 life smote him, a look or a word from E,ose encompassed him 
 again, and he became sensible only of a distant pain. 
 
 At first his hope sprang wildly to possess her, to believe 
 that, after he had done deeds that would have sent ordinary 
 men in the condition of shattered hulks to the hospital, she 
 might be his. Then blow upon blow was struck, and he 
 prayed to be near her till he died : no more. Then she, 
 herself, struck him to the ground, and sitting in his chamber, 
 sick and weary, on the evening of his mishap, Evan's sole 
 desire was to obtain the handkerchief he had risked his neck 
 for. To have that, and hold it to his heart, and feel it as a 
 part of her, seemed much. 
 
 Over a length of the stream the red round harvest-moon 
 was rising, and the weakened youth was this evening at the 
 mercy of the charm that encircled him. The water curved, 
 and dimpled, and flowed flat, and the whole body of it rushed 
 into the spaces of sad splendour. The clustered trees stood like 
 temples of darkness; their shadows lengthened supernaturally; 
 and a pale gloom crept between them on the sward. He had 
 been thinking for some time that Eose would knock at his 
 door, and give him her voice, at least; but she did not come;
 
 TREATS OF A HANDKERCHIEF. 265 
 
 and wlieii he had gazed out on the stream till his eyes ached, 
 he felt that he must go and walk by it. Those little flashes of 
 the hui-rying tide spoke to him of a secret rapture and of a 
 joy-seeking impulse ; the pouring onward of all the blood of 
 life to one illumined heart, mournful from excess of love. 
 
 Pardon me, I beg. Enamoured young men have these 
 notions. Ordinarily Evan had sufficient common sense and 
 was as prosaic as mankind could wish him ; but he has had a 
 terrible fall in the morning, and a young woman rages in his 
 brain. Better, indeed, and ' more manly,' were he to strike 
 and raise huge bosses on his forehead, groan, and so have 
 done with it. We must let him go his own way. 
 
 At the door he was met by the Countess. She came into 
 the room without a word or a kiss, and when she did speak, 
 the total absence of any euphuism gave token of repressed 
 excitement yet more than her angry eyes and eager step. 
 Evan had grown accustomed to her moods, and if one moment 
 she was the halcyon, and another the petrel, it no longer 
 disturbed him, seeing that he was a stranger to the influences 
 by which she was affected. The Countess rated him severely 
 for not seeking repose and inviting sympathy. She told him 
 that the Jocelyns had one and all combined in an infamous 
 plot to destroy the race of Harrington, and that Caroline had 
 already succumbed to their assaults ; that the Jocelyns would 
 repent it, and sooner than they thought for ; and that the 
 only friend the Harringtons had in the house was Miss 
 Bonner, whom Providence would liberally reward. 
 
 Then the Countess changed to a dramatic posture, and 
 whispered aloud, "Hush: she is here. She is so anxious. 
 Be generous, my brother, and let her see youl" 
 
 " She ? " said Evan, faintly. " May she come, Louisa?" 
 He hoped for Rose. 
 
 "I have consented to mask it," returned the Countess. 
 " Oh, what do I not sacrifice for you." 
 
 She turned from him, and to Evan's chagrin introduced 
 Juliana Bonner. 
 
 " Eive minutes, remember ! " said the Countess. " I must 
 not hear of more." And then Evan found himself alone with 
 Miss Bonner, and very uneasy. This young lady had restless
 
 266 EVAN HAERINGTON. 
 
 brilliant eyes, and a contraction, about the forehead which 
 f;ave one the idea of a creature suffering perpetual headache. 
 She said nothing, and when their eyes met she dropped hers 
 in a manner that made silence too expressive. Feeling which, 
 Evan began : 
 
 "May I tell you that I think it is I who ought to be 
 nursing you, not you me ? " 
 
 Miss Bonner replied by lifting her eyes and dropping them 
 as before, murmuring subsequently, " Would you do so ? " 
 
 "Most certainly, if you did me the honour to select me," 
 
 The fingers of the young lady commenced twisting and 
 intertwining on her lap. Suddenly she laughed : 
 
 " It would not do at all. You won't be dismissed from 
 your present service till you're unfit for any other." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Evan, thinking more of the 
 unmusical laugh than of the words. 
 
 He received no explanation, and the irksome silence caused 
 him to look through the window, as an escape for his mind, 
 at least. The waters streamed on endlessly into the golden 
 arms awaiting them. The low moon burnt through the 
 foliage. In the distance, over a reach of the flood, one tall 
 aspen shook against the lighted sky. 
 
 " Are you in pain?" Miss Bonner asked, and broke his 
 reverie. 
 
 "No; I am going away, and perhaps I sigh involuntarily." 
 
 " You like these grounds ? " 
 
 " I have never been so happy in any place." 
 
 " With those cruel young men about you ? " 
 
 Evan now laughed. " We don't call young men cruel, 
 Miss Bonner." 
 
 "But were they not? To take advantage of what Rose 
 told them — it was base ! " 
 
 She had said more than she intended, possibly, for she 
 coloured under his inquiring look, and added: " I wish I 
 could say the same as you of Beckley. Do you know, I am 
 called Eose's thorn ? " 
 
 " Not by Miss Jocelyn herself, certainly ! " 
 
 " How eager you are to defend her. But am I not — tell 
 me — do I not look like a thorn in company with her ? "
 
 TREATS OF A HANDKERCHIEF. 2G7 
 
 " There is but the difference that ill health would make." 
 
 " 111 health ? Oh, yes ! And Rose is so much better 
 born." 
 
 *' To that, I am sure, she does not give a thought." 
 
 "Not Rose? Oh!" 
 
 An exclamation, properly lengthened, convinces the feel- 
 ings more satisfactorily than much logic. Though Evan 
 claimed only the handkerchief he had won, his heart sank at 
 the sound. Miss Bonner watched him, and springing forward, 
 said sharply : 
 
 " May I tell you something? " 
 
 " You may tell me what you please." 
 
 " Then, whether I offend you or not, you had better leave 
 this." 
 
 " I am going," said Evan. " I am only waiting to intro- 
 duce your tutor to you." 
 
 She kept her eyes on him, and in her voice as well there 
 was a depth, as she returned : 
 
 "Mr. Laxley, Mr. Forth, and Harry, are going to Lymport 
 to-morrow." 
 
 Evan was looking at a figure, whose shadow was thrown 
 towards the house from the margin, of the stream. 
 
 He stood up, and taking the hand of Miss Bonner, said : 
 
 " I thank you. I may, perhaps, start with them. At any 
 rate, you have done me a great service, which I shall not 
 forget." 
 
 The figure by the stream he knew to be that of Rose. He 
 released Miss Bonner's trembling moist hand, and as he 
 continued standing, she moved to the door, after once following 
 the line of his eyes into the moonlight. 
 
 Outside the door a noise was audible. Andrew had come 
 to sit with his dear boy, and the Countess had met and en- 
 gaged and driven him to the other end of the passage, where 
 he hung remonstrating with her. 
 
 "Why, Van," he said, as Evan came up to him, "I thought 
 you were in a profound sleep. Louisa said — " 
 
 "Silly Andrew!" interposed the Countess, "do you not 
 observe he is sleep-walking now ? " and she left them with a 
 light laugh to go to Juliana, whom she found in tears. The
 
 268 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 Countess was quite aware of the efficacy of a little bit of 
 burlesque lying to cover her retreat from any petty exposure. 
 
 Evan soon got free from Andrew. He was under the dim 
 stars, walking to the great fire in the East. The cool air 
 refreshed him. He was simply going to ask for his own, 
 before he went, and had no cause to fear what would be 
 thought by any one. A handkerchief! A man might fairly 
 win that, and carry it out of a very noble family, without 
 having to blush for himself. 
 
 I cannot say whether he inherited his feeling for rank from 
 Mel, his father, or that the Countess had succeeded in instill- 
 ing it, but Evan never took Republican ground in opposition 
 to those who insulted him, and never lashed his ' manhood ' 
 to assert itself, nor compared the fineness of his instincts with 
 the behaviour of titled gentlemen. Rather he seemed to 
 admit the distinction between his birth and that of a gentle- 
 man, admitting it to his own soul, as it were, and struggled 
 simply as men struggle against a destiny. The news Miss 
 Bonner had given him sufficed to break a spell which could 
 not have endured another week ; and Andrew, besides, had 
 told him of Caroline's illness. He walked to meet Rose, 
 honestly intending to ask for his own, and wish her good- 
 bye. 
 
 Rose saw him approach, and knew him in the distance. 
 She was sitting on a lower branch of the aspen, that shot out 
 almost from the root, and stretched over the intervolving rays 
 of light on the tremulous water. She could not move to meet 
 him. She was not the Rose whom we have hitherto known. 
 Love may spring in the bosom of a young girl, like Hesper 
 in the evening sky, a grey speck in a field of grey, and not 
 be seen or known, till surely as the circle advances the faint 
 planet gathers fire, and, coming nearer earth, dilates, and 
 will and must be seen and known. When Evan lay like a 
 dead man on the ground. Rose turned upon herself as the 
 author of his death, and then she felt this presence within 
 her, and her heart all day had talked to her of it, and was 
 throbbing now, and would not be quieted. She could only 
 lift her eyes and give him her hand ; she could not speak. 
 She thought him cold, and he was; cold enough to think
 
 TREATS OF A HANDKERCHIEF. 269 
 
 that slie and her cousin were not unlike in their manner, 
 though not deep enough to reflect that it was from the same 
 cause. 
 
 She was the first to find her wits : but not before she spoke 
 did she feel, and start to feel, how long had been the silence, 
 and that her hand was still in his. 
 
 " Why did you come out, Evan? It was not right." 
 
 " I came to speak to you, Eose. I shall leave early to- 
 morrow, and may not see you alone." 
 
 " You are going ? " 
 
 She checked her voice abruptly, and left the thrill of it 
 wavering in him. 
 
 "Yes, Eose, I am going; I should have gone before." 
 
 "Evan ! " she grasjDed his hand, and then timidly retained 
 it. "You have not forgiven me? I see now. I did not 
 think of any risk to you. I only wanted you to beat. I 
 wanted you to be first and best. If you knew how I thank 
 God for saving you ! What my punishment would have 
 been ! " 
 
 Till her eyes were full she kept them on him, too deep in 
 emotion to be conscious of it. 
 
 He could gaze on her tears coldly. 
 
 " I should be happy to take the leap any day for the prize 
 you offered. I have come for that." 
 
 "For what, Evan?" But while she was sjieaking the 
 colour mounted in her cheeks, and she went on rapidly : 
 " Did you think it unkind of me not to come to nurse you. I 
 must tell you, to defend myself. It was the Countess, Evan. 
 She is off'ended with me — very justly, I dare say. She would 
 not let me come. "What could I do ? I had no claim to 
 come." 
 
 Eose was not aware of the import of her speech. Evan, 
 though he felt more in it, and had some secret nerves set 
 tingling and dancing, was not to be moved from his demand. 
 
 " Do you intend to withhold it, Eose ? " 
 
 " Withhold what, Evan? Anything that you wish for is 
 yours." 
 
 " The handkerchief. Is not that mine ? " 
 
 Eose faltered a word. Why did he ask for it ? Because
 
 270 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 he asked for nothing else, and wanted no other thing save 
 that. 
 
 Why did she hesitate ? Because it was so poor a gift, and 
 so unworthy of him. 
 
 And why did he insist ? Because in honour she was bound 
 to surrender it. 
 
 And why did she hesitate still ? Let her answer. 
 
 " Oh, Evan ! I would give you anything but that ; and 
 if you are going away, I should beg so much to keep it." 
 
 He must have been in a singular state not to see her heart 
 in the refusal, as was she not to see his in the request. But 
 Love is blindest just when the bandage is being removed from 
 his forehead. 
 
 " Then you will not give it me. Rose ? Do you think I 
 shall go about boasting ' This is Miss Jocelyn's handkerchief, 
 and I, poor as I am, have won it ? ' " 
 
 The taunt struck aslant in Eose's breast with a peculiar 
 sting. She stood up. 
 
 " I will give it you, Evan." 
 
 Turning from him she drew it forth, and handed it to him 
 hurriedly, with her head still averted. 
 
 It was warm. It was stained with his blood. He guessed 
 where it had been nestling, and now, as if by revelation, he 
 saw that large sole star in the bosom of his darling, and was 
 blinded by it and lost his senses. 
 
 " Rose ! beloved ! I love you ! " 
 
 Her hand, her arm, her waist, he seized, bending over her. 
 And like the flower of his nightly phantasy bending over the 
 stream, he looked and saw in her sweet face the living 
 wonders that encircled his image ; she murmuring : " No, 
 no ; you must hate me. I know it." 
 
 Anything but a denial, and he might have retrieved his 
 step, but that she should doubt his strong true love plunged 
 him deeper. 
 
 " I love you, Rose. I have not a hope to win you ; but I 
 love you. My heaven ! my only darling ! I hold you a 
 moment — and I go ; but know that I love you and would 
 die for you. Beloved Rose I do you forgive me ? " 
 
 She raised her face to him.
 
 TREATS OF A HANDKERCHIEF. 271 
 
 " Porgive you for loving me ? " she said, smiling the soft 
 inward smile of rarest bliss. 
 
 Holy to them grew the stillness: the ripple suffused in 
 golden moonlight : the dark edges of the leaves against super- 
 lative brightness. Not a chirp was heard, nor anything save 
 the cool and endless carol of the happy waters, whose voices 
 are the spirits of silence. Nature seemed consenting that 
 their hands should be joined, their eyes intermingling. And 
 when Evan, with a lover's craving, wished her lips to say 
 what her eyes said so well, Rose drew his fingers up, and, 
 with an arch smile and a blush, kissed them. The simple 
 act set his heart thumping, and from the look of love, she 
 saw an expression of pain pass through him. Her fealty — 
 her guileless, fearless truth — which the kissing of his hand 
 brought vividly before him, conjured its contrast as well in 
 this that was hidden from her, or but half suspected. Did 
 she know — know and love him still ? He thought it might 
 be : but that fell dead on her asking : 
 
 " Shall I speak to Mama to-night ? " 
 
 A load of lead crushed him. 
 
 " Rose ! " he said ; but could get no farther. 
 
 Innocently, or with well-masked design, Rose branched off 
 into little sweet words about his bruised shoulder, touching it 
 softly, as if she knew the virtue that was in her touch, and 
 accusing her selfish self as she caressed it: " Dearest Evan ! 
 you must have been sure I thought no one like you. Why 
 did you not tell me before ? I can hardly believe it now ! 
 Do you know," she harried on, " they think me cold and 
 heartless, — am I ? I must be, to have made you run such 
 risk; but yet I'm sure I could not have survived you." 
 
 Dropping her voice, Rose quoted Ruth. As Evan listened, 
 the words were like food from heaven poured into his spirit. 
 
 "To-morrow," he kept saying to himself, "to-morrow I 
 will teU her all. Let her think well of me a few short 
 hours." 
 
 But the passing minutes locked them closer; each had a 
 new link — in a word, or a speechless breath, or a touch : and 
 to break the marriage of their eyes there must be infinite 
 baseness on one side, or on the other disloyalty to love.
 
 272 EVAN HARRINGTON". 
 
 The moon was a silver ball, high up through the aspen. 
 Evan kissed the hand of Eose, and led her back to the house. 
 He had appeased his conscience by restraining his wild desire 
 to kiss her lips. 
 
 In the hall they parted. Rose whispered, " Till death ! " 
 giving him her hands. She was then warm beneath his 
 mouth, and one eternal kiss hung ripe for him. The force of 
 his passion plucked him down, but his lips rested on her 
 forehead. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ■ THE COtTNTESS MAKES HEKSELF FELT. • 
 
 Theee is a peculiar reptile whose stroke is said to deprive 
 men of motion. On the day after the great Mel had stalked 
 the dinner-table of Beckley Court, several of the guests were 
 sensible of the effect of this creature's mysterious touch, 
 without knowing what it was that paralyzed them. Drum- 
 mond Eorth had fully planned to go to Lymport. He had 
 special reasons for making investigations with regard to the 
 great Mel. Harry, who was fond of Drummond, offered to 
 accompany him, and Laxley, for the sake of a diversion, 
 fell into the scheme. Mr. George Uploft was also to be of 
 the party, and promised them fun. But when the time came 
 to start, not one could be induced to move : Laxley was 
 pressingly engaged by E-ose : Harry showed the rope the 
 Countess held him by ; Mr. George made a singular face, and 
 seriously advised Drummond to give up the project. 
 
 " Don't rub that woman the wrong way," he said, in a 
 private colloquy they had. " By Jingo, she's a Tartar. She 
 was as a gal, and she isn't changed, Lou Harrington. Fancy 
 now : she knew me, and she faced me out, and made me 
 think her a stranger ! Gad, I'm glad I didn't speak to the 
 others. Lord's sake, keep it quiet. Don't rouse that woman, 
 now, if you want to keep a whole skin."
 
 THE COUNTESS MAKES HERSELF FELT. 2-/3 
 
 Driimmond laughed at his extreme earnestness in caution- 
 ing him, and appeared to enjoy his dread of the Countess. 
 Mr. George would not tell how he had been induced to change 
 his mind. He repeated his advice with a very emphatic 
 shrug of the shoulder. 
 
 " You seem afraid of her," said Drummond. 
 
 " I am. I ain't ashamed to confess it. She's a regular 
 viper, my boy!" said Mr. George. "She and I once were 
 pretty thick — least said soonest mended, you know. I 
 offended her. Wasn't quite up to her mark — a tailor's 
 daughter, you know. Gad, if she didn't set an Irish Dra- 
 goon Captain on me ! — I went about in danger of my life. 
 The fellow began to twist his damned black moustaches the 
 moment he clapped eyes on me — bullied me till, upon my 
 soul, I was almost ready to fight him ! Oh, she was a little 
 tripping Tartar of a bantam hen then. She's grown since 
 she's been countessed, and does it peacocky. Now, I give 
 you fair warning, you know. She's more than any man's 
 match." 
 
 "I dare say I shall think the same when she has beaten 
 me," quoth cynical Drummond, and immediately went and 
 gave orders for his horse to be saddled, thinking that he 
 would tread on the head of the viper. 
 
 But shortly before the hour of his departure, Mrs. Evre- 
 monde summoned him to her, and showed him a slip of paper, 
 on which was written, in an uncouth small hand : 
 
 " Madam : a friend warns you that your husband is 
 
 coming here. Deep interest in your welfare is the cause of 
 
 an anonymous communication. The writer wishes only to 
 warn you in time." 
 
 Mrs. Evremonde told Drumrnond that she had received it 
 from one of the servants when leaving the breakfast-room. 
 Beyond the fact that a man on horseback had handed it to a 
 little boy, who had delivered it over to the footman, Drummond 
 could learn nothing. Of course, all thought of the journey 
 to Lymport was abandoned. If but to excogitate a motive 
 for the origin of the document, Drummond was forced to 
 
 r
 
 274 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 remain ; and now he had it, and now he lost it again ; and 
 as he was wandering about in his maze, the Countess met 
 him with a " Good morning, Mr. Forth. Have I impeded 
 your expedition by taking my friend Mr. Harry to cavalier 
 me to-day ?" 
 
 Drummond smilingly assured her that she had not in any 
 way disarranged his projects, and passed with so absorbed a 
 brow that the Countess could afford to turn heu head and in- 
 spect him, without fear that he would surprise her in the act. 
 Knocking the pearly edge of her fan on her teeth, she eyed 
 him under her joined black lashes, and deliberately read his 
 thoughts in the mere shape of his back and shoulders. She 
 read him through and through, and was unconscious of the 
 effective attitude she stood in for the space of two full 
 minutes, and even then it required one of our unhappy sex 
 to recall her. This was Harry Jocelyn. 
 
 "My friend," she said to him, with a melancholy smile, 
 " my one friend here ! " 
 
 Harry went through the form of kissing her hand, which 
 he had been taught, and practised cunningly as the first step 
 of the ladder. 
 
 " I say, yoa looked so handsome, standing as you did just 
 now," he remarked ; and she could see how far beneath her 
 that effective attitude had precipitated the youth. 
 
 "Ah! " she sighed, walking on, with the step of majesty 
 in exile. 
 
 " What the deuce is the matter with everybody to-day ? " 
 cried Harry. " I'm hanged if I can make it out. There's 
 the Carrington, as you call her, I met her with such a pair 
 of eyes, and old George looking as if he'd been licked, at her 
 heels; and there's Drummond and his lady fair moping about 
 the lawn, and my mother positively getting excited — there's 
 a miracle ! and Juley's sharpening her nails for somebody, 
 and if Ferdinand don't look out, your brother' 11 be walking 
 off with Eosey — that's my opinion." 
 
 " Indeed," said the Countess. " You really think so ? " 
 
 " "Well, they come it pretty strong together." 
 
 "And what constitutes the 'come it strong,' Mr. 
 Harry?"
 
 THE COUNTESS MAKES HERSELF FELT. 275 
 
 "Hold of hands, you know," the young gentleman in- 
 dicated. 
 
 " Alas, then ! must not we be more discreet ? " 
 
 " Oh ! but it's different. With young people one knows 
 what that means." 
 
 "Deus!" exclaimed the Countess, tossing her head 
 weariedly, and Harry perceived his slip, and down he went 
 again. 
 
 What wonder that a youth in such training should consent 
 to fetch and carry, to Hsten and relate, to play the spy and 
 know no more of his office than that it gave him astonishing 
 thrills of satisfaction, and now and then a secret sweet 
 reward? 
 
 The Countess had sealed Miss Carrington's mouth by one 
 of her most dexterous strokes. On leaving the dinner-table 
 over -night, and seeing that Caroline's attack would preclude 
 their instant retreat, the gallant Countess turned at bay. A 
 word aside to Mr. George TJploft, and then the Countess took 
 a chair by Miss Carrington. She did all the conversation, 
 and supplied all the smiles to it, and when a lady has to do 
 that she is justified in striking, and striking hard, for to 
 abandon the pretence of sweetness is a gross insult from one 
 woman to another. 
 
 The Countess then led circuitously, but with all the ease in 
 the world, to the story of a Portuguese lady, of a marvellous 
 beauty, and who was deeply enamoured of the Chevalier 
 Miguel de Rasadio, and engaged to be married to him : but, 
 alas for her ! in the insolence of her happiness she wantonly 
 made an enemy in the person of a most unoffending lady, and 
 she repented it. "While sketching the admirable Chevalier, 
 the Coxontess drew a telling portrait of Mr. George TJploft, and 
 gratified her humour and her wrath at once by strong truth 
 to nature in the description and animated encomiums on the 
 individual. The Portuguese lady, too, a little resembled 
 Miss Carrington, in spite of her marvellous beauty. And it 
 was odd that Miss Carrington should give a sudden start and 
 a horrified glance at the Countess just when the Countess was 
 pathetically relating the proceeding taken by the revengeful 
 lady on the beautiful betrothed of the Chevalier Miguel de 
 
 t2
 
 276 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 Easadio : which proceeding was nothina; other than to bring 
 to the Chevalier's knowledge that his beauty had a defect con- 
 cealed by her apparel, and that the specks in his fruit were 
 not one, or two, but, Oh ! And the dreadful sequel to the 
 story the Countess could not tell : preferring ingeniously to 
 throw a tragic veil over it. Miss Carrington went early to 
 bed that night. 
 
 The courage that mounteth with occasion was eminently 
 the attribute of the Countess de Saldar. After that dreadful 
 dinner she (since the weaknesses of great generals should not 
 be altogether ignored), did pray for flight and total obscurity, 
 but Caroline could not be left in her hysteric state, and now 
 that she really perceived that Evan was progressing and on 
 the point of sealing his chance, the devoted lady resolved to 
 hold her ground. Besides, there was the pic-nic. The Coun- 
 tess had one di'ess she had not yet appeared in, and it was for 
 the pic-nic she kept it. That small motives are at the bottom 
 of many illustrious actions is a modern discovery ; but I shall 
 not adopt the modern principle of magnifying the small 
 motive till it overshadows my noble heroine. I remember 
 that the small motive is only to be seen by being borne into 
 the range of my vision by a powerful microscope ; and if I do 
 more than see — if I carry on my reflections by the aid of the 
 glass, I arrive at conclusions that must be false. Men who 
 dwarf human nature do this. The gods are juster. The 
 Countess, though she wished to remain for the pic-nic, and 
 felt warm in anticipation of the homage to her new dress, was 
 still a gallant general and a devoted sister, and if she said to 
 herself, " Come what may, I will stay for that pic-nic, and 
 they shall not brow-beat me out of it," it is that trifling plea- 
 sures are noisiest about the heart of human nature : not that 
 they govern us absolutely. There is mob-rule in minds as in 
 communities, but the Countess had her appetites in excellent 
 drill. This pic-nic surrendered, represented to her defeat in 
 all its ignominy. The largest longest-headed of schemes ask 
 occasionally for something substantial and immediate. So 
 the Countess stipulated with Providence for the pic-nic. It 
 was a point to be passed : ' Thorough flood, thorough 
 fire.'
 
 THE COUNTESS MAKES HERSELF FELT. 277 
 
 In vain poor Andrew Cogglesby, to whom the dinner had 
 been torture, and who was beginning to see the position they 
 stood in at Beckley, begged to be allowed to take them away, 
 or to go alone. The Countess laughed him into submission. 
 As a consequence of her audacious spirits she grew more 
 charming and more natural, and the humour that she pos- 
 sessed, but which, like her other faculties, was usually sub- 
 ordinate to her plans, gave spontaneous bursts throughout the 
 day, and delighted her courtiers. Nor did the men at all 
 dislike the difference of her manner with them, and with the 
 ladies. I may observe that a woman who shows a mai'ked 
 depression in her conduct in the presence of her own sex will 
 be thought very superior by ours ; that is, supposing she is 
 clever and agreeable. Sublime manhood distinguishes what 
 flatters it. A lady approaches. " We must be proper," says 
 the Countess, and her hearty laugh dies with a suddenness 
 and is succeeded by a gravity almost superhuman. And the 
 Countess can look a profound merriment with perfect sedate- 
 ness when there appears to be an equivoque in company. 
 Finely secret are her glances, as if under every eye-lash there 
 lurked the shade of a meaning. What she meant was not so 
 clear. All this was goiug on, and Lady Jocelyn was simply 
 amused, and sat as at a play. 
 
 " She seems to have stepped out of a book of French 
 memoirs," said her ladyship. " La vie galante et devote — 
 voila la Comtesse." 
 
 In contradistinction to the other ladies, she did not detest 
 the Countess because she could not like her. 
 
 "Where's the harm in her?" she asked. "She doesn't 
 damage the men, that I can see. And a person you can laugh 
 at and with, is inexhaustible." 
 
 "And how long is she to stay here?" Mrs. Shorne 
 inquired. Mrs. Melville remarking : "Her visit appears to 
 be inexhaustible." 
 
 Mrs. Melville was a specimen of the arrant British wife, — 
 inflexible in her own virtue, and never certain of her hus- 
 band's when he was out of her sight : a noble being (Heaven 
 preserve the breed ! ), but somewhat wanting in confidence 
 and Christianity.
 
 278 EVAN HARRTNGTOK 
 
 "I suppose she'll stay till theElection business is over," 
 said Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 The Countess had just driven with Melville to Fallowfield 
 in Caroline's black lace shawl. 
 
 "Upwards of four weeks longer!" Mrs. MelviUe inter- 
 jected. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn chuckled. Friendship between the sexes 
 was her doctrine, and the arrant British wife aroused there- 
 fore her strong aversion. 
 
 Miss Carrington was present. She had been formerly 
 sharp in her condemnation of the Countess — her affected- 
 ness, her euphuism, and her vulgarity. Now she did not say 
 a word, though she might have done it with impunity. 
 
 "I suppose, Emily, you see what Rose is about?" said 
 Mrs. Melville. " I should not have thought it advisable to 
 have that young man here, myself. I think I let you know 
 that." 
 
 " One young man's as good as another," responded her 
 ladyship. "I've my doubts of the one that's much better. I 
 fancy Rose is as good a judge by this time as you or I." 
 
 Mrs. Melville made an effort or two to open Lady Jocelyn's 
 eyes, and then relapsed into the confident serenity inspired by 
 evil prognostications. 
 
 "But there really does seem some infatuation about these 
 people ! " exclaimed Mrs. Shorne, turning to Miss Current. 
 "Can you understand it? The Duke, my dear! Things 
 seem to be going on in the house, that really — and so 
 openly." 
 
 " That's one virtue," said Miss Current, with her impertur-- 
 bable metallic voice, and face like a cold clear northern sky. 
 " Things done in secret throw on the outsiders the onus of 
 raising a scandal," 
 
 "Tou don't believe, then?" suggested Mrs. Shorne. 
 
 Miss Current replied : " I always wait for a thing to happen 
 first." 
 
 " But haven't yoa seen, my dear ? " 
 
 " I never see anything, my dear." 
 
 " Then you must be blind, my dear." 
 
 " On the contrary, that's how I keep my sight, my dear."
 
 THE COUNTESS MAKES HERSELF FELT. 279 
 
 ** I don't understand you," said Mrs. Shorne. 
 
 "It's a part of the science of optics, and requires study," 
 said Miss Current. 
 
 Neither with the worldly nor the unworldly woman could 
 the ladies do anything. Bat they were soon to have their 
 triumph. 
 
 A delicious morning had followed the lovely night. The 
 stream flowed under Evan's eyes, like something in a lower 
 sphere, now. His passion took him up, as if a genie had 
 lifted him into mid-air, and showed him the world on a palm 
 of a hand; and yet, as he dressed by the window, little 
 chinks in the garden wall, and nectarines under their shiny 
 leaves, and the white walks of the garden, were stamped on 
 his hot brain accurately and lastingly. Ruth upon the lips 
 of Rose : that voice of living constancy made music to him 
 everywhere. " Thy God shall be my God." He had heard 
 it all through the night. He had not yet broken the tender 
 charm sufficiently to think that he must tell her the sacrifice 
 she would have to make. When partly he did, the first 
 excuse he clutched at was, that he had only kissed her on the 
 forehead. A brother might do as much ; and he would be 
 her brother, her guardian. Behold, Rose met him descending 
 the stairs, and, taking his hand, sang, unabashed, by the tell- 
 tale colour coming over her face, a stave of a little Portuguese 
 air that they had both been fond of in Portugal ; and he, 
 listening to it, and looking in her eyes, saw that his feelings 
 in the old time had been hers, and the thought made his love 
 irrevocable. 
 
 Rose, now that she had given her heart, had no idea of 
 concealment. She would have denied nothing to her aunts : 
 she was ready to confide it to her mother. Was she not 
 proud of the man she loved ? When Evan's hand touched 
 hers she retained it, and smiled up at him frankly, as it were 
 to make him glad in her gladness. If before others his eyes 
 brought the blood to her cheeks, she would perhaps drop her 
 eye-lids an instant, and then glance quickly level again to 
 reassure him. And who would have thought that this 
 boisterous, boyish creature had such depths of eye ! Cold, 
 did they call her ? Let others think her cold. The tender
 
 280 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 knowledge of her— the throbbing secret they held in common 
 sung at his heart like a passionate nightingale. Eose, too, 
 sat as if through the clatter of silly talk she at times heard 
 a faint far music. She made no confidante, but she attempted 
 no mystery. Evan should have risen to the height of the 
 noble girl. Alas ! the dearer and sweeter her bearing became, 
 the more conscious he was of the dead weight he was 
 dragging. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 IN WHICH THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAfi. 
 
 YoTJ will think it odd, not to say reprehensible, and a fatal 
 declension from heroics, that Miss Eose Jocelyn should devote 
 the better part of the day following her love-avowal, to dog- 
 breaking; and I doubt not that you wonder how a young 
 man could be inspired by such a person with transcendent, 
 with holy, and with melting images. It was that Evan felt 
 the soul of Eose, and felt it akin to his own. Her tastes, 
 her habits, could not obscure the bright and perfect steadfast- 
 ness which was in her, and which Evan worshipped more 
 than her face ; and indeed that firm truth of her character 
 gave a charm to all her actions. Among girls you have 
 creatures of the morning, of the night, and of the twilight. 
 Eose was of Aurora's train : soft when you caught her, shy 
 in your shadow ; capable of melting wholly to your kiss, but 
 untroubled, and light-limbed, and brisk, a fresh young maid 
 when you withdrew the charm. Her friend Jenny Grains 
 flitted bat-like round William's figure, and Juliana Bonner 
 loved sombrely. There are some who neither thoroughly 
 sleep, nor thoroughly waken, but dream while they walk, 
 and toss while they lie. Eose was a cool sleeper, and the 
 light fiowed into her open eyes as into a house that lifts the 
 blinds. Slightly, perhaps, even while dog-breaking, a little 
 thought would thrill her, and move a quivering corner in her
 
 THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR. 281 
 
 lips, but it passed like a happy bird from the bough, and was 
 as innocent under heaven. 
 
 An Irish retriever-pup of the Shannon breed, Pat by name, 
 was undergoing tuition on the sward close by the kennels, 
 Eose's hunting-whip being passed through his collar to 
 restrain erratic propensities. The particular point of instruc- 
 tion which now made poor Pat hang out his tongue, and 
 agitate his crisp brown curls, was the performance of the 
 ' down-charge ; ' a ceremony demanding implicit obedience 
 from the animal in the midst of volatile gambadoes, and a 
 simiJation of profound repose when his desire to be up and 
 bounding was mighty. Pat's Irish eyes were watching Eose, 
 as he lay with his head couched between his fore-paws in the 
 required attitude. He had but half learnt his lesson, and 
 something in his half-humorous, half-melancholy look talked 
 to Eose more eloquently than her friend Ferdinand at her 
 elbow. Laxley was her assistant dog-breaker. Eose would 
 not abandon her friends because she had accepted a lover. 
 On the contrary, Eose was very kind to Ferdinand, and 
 perhaps felt bound to be so to-day. To-day, also, her face 
 was lighted very sweetly. A readiness to colour, and an 
 expression of deeper knowledge which she now had, made 
 the girl dangerous to friends. This was not Eose's fault : 
 but there is no doubt among the faculty that love is a conta- 
 gious disease, and we ought not to come within a thousand 
 miles of the creatures in whom it lodges. 
 
 Pat's tail kept hinting to his mistress that a change would 
 afford him great satisfaction. After a time she withdrew her 
 wistful gaze from him, and listened entirely to Ferdinand : 
 and it struck her that he spoke particularly well to-day, 
 though she did not see so much in his eyes as in Pat's. The 
 subject concerned his departure, and he asked Eose if she 
 should be sorry, Eose, to make him sure of it, threw a 
 music into her voice dangerous to friends. For she had given 
 heart and soul to Evan, and had a sense, therefore, of being 
 irredeemably in debt to her old associates, and wished to be 
 doubly kind to them. 
 
 Pat took advantage of the diversion to stand up quietly 
 and have a shake. He then began to kiss his mistress's hand,
 
 282 EVAN HAERINGTON. 
 
 to show that all was right on both sides ; and followed this 
 with a plaj'ful pretence at a bite, that there might be no 
 subsequent misunderstanding, and then a bark and a whine. 
 As no attention was paid to this amount of plain-speaking, 
 Pat made a bolt. He got no farther than the length of the 
 whip, and all he gained was to bring on himself the terrible 
 word of drill once more. But Pat had tasted liberty. Irish 
 rebellion against constituted authority was exhibited. Pat 
 would not : his ears tossed over his head, and he jumped to 
 right and left, and looked the raggedest rapparee that ever 
 his ancestry trotted after. Eose laughed at his fruitless 
 efforts to get free ; but Ferdinand meditatively appeared to 
 catch a sentiment in them. 
 
 "Down-charge, sir, will you? Ah, Pat! Pat! Ton' 11 
 have to obey me, my boy. Now, down-charge ! " 
 
 "While Rose addressed the language of reason to Pat, 
 Ferdinand slipped in a soft word or two. Presently she saw 
 him on one knee. 
 
 " Pat won't, and I will," said he. 
 
 "But Pat shall, and you had better not," said she. 
 " Besides, my dear Ferdinand," she added, laughing, " you 
 don't know how to do it." 
 
 " Do you want me prostrate on all fours. Rose ? " 
 
 "No. I hope not. Do get up, Ferdinand. You'll be 
 seen from the windows." 
 
 Instead of quitting his posture, he caught her hand, and 
 scared her with a declaration. 
 
 " Of all men, you to be on your knees ! and to me, 
 Ferdinand I " she cried, in utter discomfort. 
 
 " "Why shouldn't I, Eose ? " was this youth's answer. 
 
 He had somehow got the idea that foreign cavalier manners 
 would take with her ; but it was not so easy to make his 
 speech correspond with his posture, and he lost his oppor- 
 tunity, which was pretty. However, he spoke plain English. 
 The interview ended by Eose releasing Pat from drill, and 
 running off in a hurry. "Where was Evan ? She must have 
 his consent to speak to her mother, and prevent a recurrence 
 of these silly scenes. 
 
 Evan was with Caroline, his sister.
 
 THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR. 283 
 
 It was contrary to the double injunction of the Countess 
 that Caroline should receive Evan during her absence, or that 
 he should disturb the dear invalid with a visit. These two 
 were not unlike both in organization and character, and they 
 had not sat together long before they found each other out. 
 Wow, to further Evan's lo-ve-suit, the Countess had induced 
 Caroline to continue yet awhUe in the Purgatory Beckley 
 Court had become to her ; but Evan, in speaking of Eose, 
 expressed a determination to leave her, and Caroline caught 
 at it. 
 
 "Can you? — will you? Oh, dear Van! have you the 
 courage ? I — look at me — you know the home I go to, and 
 — and I think of it here as a place to be happy in. "What 
 have our marriages done for us? Better that we had married 
 simple stupid men who earn their bread, and would not 
 have been ashamed of us ! And, my dearest, it is not only 
 that. None can tell what our temptations are. Louisa has 
 strength, but I feel I have none ; and though, dear, for your 
 true interest, I would indeed sacrifice myself — I would, Van! 
 I would! — it is not good for you to stay, — I know it is not. 
 For you have Papa's sense of honour — and oh ! if you should 
 learn to despise me, my dear brother ! " 
 
 She kissed him convulsively. Her nerves were agitated 
 by strong mental excitement. He attributed it to her recent 
 attack of illness, but could not help asking, while he caressed 
 her : 
 
 " What's that ? Despise you ? " 
 
 It may have been that Caroline felt then, that to speak of 
 something was to forfeit something. A light glimmered 
 across the dewy blue of her beautiful eyes. Desire to breathe 
 it to him, and have his loving aid : the fear of forfeiting it, 
 evil as it was to her, and at the bottom of all, that doubt we 
 choose to encourage of the harm in a pleasant sin unaccom- 
 plished; these might be read in the rich dim gleam that 
 swept like sunlight over sea- water between breaks of cloud. 
 
 " Dear Van ! do you love her so much ? " 
 
 Caroline knew too well that she was shutting her own 
 theme with iron clasps when she once touched on Evan's. 
 
 Love her ? Love Rose ? Let the skylark go up and sing
 
 284 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 of her. It became an endless carol with Evan. Caroline 
 sighed for him from her heart. 
 
 "You know — yon understand me; don't you ?" he said, 
 after a breathless excursion of his fancy. 
 
 " I believe you love her, dear. I think I have never loved 
 any one but my one brother." 
 
 His love for Eose he could pour out to Caroline ; when it 
 came to Rose's love for him his blood thickened, and his 
 tongue felt guilty. He must speak to her, he said, — tell 
 her all. 
 
 "Yes, tell her all," echoed Caroline. " Do, do tell her. 
 Trust a woman utterly if she loves you, dear. Go to her 
 instantly." 
 
 " Could you bear it? " said Evan. He began to think it 
 was for the sake of his sisters that he had hesitated. 
 
 " Bear it? bear anything rather than perpetual imposture. 
 What have I not borne ? Tell her, and then, if she is cold 
 to you, let us go. Let us go. I shall be glad to. Ah, Yan ! 
 I love you so." Caroline's voice deepened. " I love you 
 so, my dear. You won't let your new love drive me out ? 
 Shall you always love me ? " 
 
 Of that she might be sure, whatever happened. 
 
 " Should you love me. Van, if evil befel me ? " 
 
 Thrice as well, he swore to her. 
 
 "But if I — if I, Van Oh! my life is intolerable! 
 
 Supposing I should ever disgrace you in any way, and not 
 turn out all j'ou fancied me. I am very weak and un- 
 happy." 
 
 Evan kissed her confidently, with a warm smile. He said 
 a few words of the great faith he had in her : words that were 
 bitter comfort to Caroline. This brother who might save her, 
 to him she dared not speak. Did she wish to be saved? 
 She only knew that to wound Evan's sense of honour and the 
 high and chivalrous veneration for her sex and pride in him- 
 self, and those of his blood, would be wicked and unpardon- 
 able, and that no earthly pleasure could drown it. Thinking 
 this, with her hands joined in pale dejection, Caroline sat 
 silent, and Evan left her to lay bare his heart to Eose. On 
 his way to find Eose, he was stopped by the announcement
 
 THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR. 285 
 
 of the arrival of Mr, Raikes, who thrust a bundle of notes 
 into his hand, and after speaking loudly of " his curricle," 
 retired on important business, as he said, with a mysterious 
 air. " I'm beaten in many things, but not in the article 
 Zwc^," he remarked ; "you will hear of me, though hardly 
 as a tutor in this academy." 
 
 Scanning the bundle of notes, and wondering at the appa- 
 rition of the curricle, Evan was joined by Harry Jocelyn, 
 and Harry linked his arm in Evan's and plunged with extra- 
 ordinary spontaneity and candour into the state of his money 
 affairs. What the deuce he was to do for money he did not 
 know. From the impressive manner in which he put it, it 
 appeared to be one of Nature's great problems that the whole 
 human race were bound to set their heads together to solve. 
 A hundred pounds — Harry wanted no more, and he could 
 not get it. His uncles ? they were as poor as rats ; and all 
 the spare money they could club was going for Mel's Election 
 expenses. A hundred and fifty was what Harry really 
 wanted ; but he could do with a hundred. Ferdinand, who 
 had plenty, would not even lend him fifty. Ferdinand had 
 dared to hint at a debt abeady unsettled, and he called him- 
 self a gentleman ! 
 
 " You wouldn't speak of money -matters now, would you, 
 Harrington ?" 
 
 "I dislike the subject, I confess," said Evan. 
 
 "And so do I." Harry jumped at the perfect similarity 
 between them. " You can't think how it bothers one 
 to have to talk about it. You and I are tremendously 
 alike." 
 
 Evan might naturally suppose that a subject Harry de- 
 tested, he would not continue, but for a whole hour Harry 
 turned it over and over with grim glances at Jewry. 
 
 "You see," he wound up, "Fm in a fix, I want to help 
 that poor girl, and one or two things " 
 
 "It's for that you want it ? " cried Evan, brightening to 
 him. " Accept it from me," 
 
 It is a thing familiar to the experience of money-borrowers, 
 that your ' last chance ' is the man who is to accommodate 
 you ; but we are always astonished, nevertheless j and Harry
 
 286 EVAN HARRINGTON". 
 
 was, when notes to the amount of the largest sum named 
 by him were placed in his hand by one whom he looked upon 
 as the last to lend. 
 
 " What a trump you are, Harrington ! " was all he could 
 say ; and then he was for hurrying Evan into the house, to 
 find pen and paper, and write down a memorandum of the 
 loan : but Evan insisted upon sparing him the trouble, though 
 Harry, with the admirable scruples of an inveterate borrower, 
 begged hard to be allowed to bind himself legally to repay 
 the money. 
 
 " 'Pon my soul, Harrington, you make me remember I 
 once doubted whether you were a gentleman," said Harry. 
 " You'll bury that, won't you P " 
 
 " Till your doubts recur," Evan observed ; and Harry 
 burst out, " Gad, if you weren't such a melancholy beggar, 
 you'd be the j oiliest fellow I know ! There, go after Eosey. 
 Dashed if I don't think you're ahead of Ferdinand, long 
 chalks. Tour style does for girls, /like women." 
 
 With a chuckle and a wink, Harry swung off. Evan had 
 now to reflect that he had just thrown away part of the 
 price of his bondage to Tailordom ; the mention of Eose 
 fiUed his mind. "Where was she ? Both were seeking one 
 another. Eose was in the cypress walk. He saw the star- 
 like figure up the length of it, between the swelling tall dark 
 pillars, and was hurrying to her, resolute not to let one 
 minute of deception blacken further the soul that loved so 
 true a soul. She saw him, and stood smiling, when the 
 Countess issued, shadow-like, from a side path, and declared 
 that she must claim her brother for a few instants. "Would 
 her sweet Eose pardon her ? Eose bowed coolly. The hearts 
 of the lovers were chilled, not that they perceived any malice 
 in the Countess, but their keen instincts felt an evil fate. 
 
 The Countess had but to tell Evan that she had met the 
 insolvent in apples, and recognized him under his change of 
 fortune, and had no doubt that at least he would amuse the 
 company. Then she asked her brother the superfluous 
 question, whether he loved her, which Evan answered satis- 
 factorily enough, as he thought ; but practical ladies require 
 proofs.
 
 THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR. 287 
 
 "Quick," said Evan, seeing Rose vanish, "what do you 
 want ? I'll do anything." 
 
 " Anything ? Ah, but this will be disagreeable to you." 
 
 " Name it at once. I promise beforehand." 
 
 The Countess wanted Evan to ask Andrew to be the very 
 best brother-in-law in the world, and win, unknown to him- 
 self, her cheerful thanks, by lending Evan to lend to her the 
 sum of one hundred pounds, as she was in absolute distress 
 for money. 
 
 " Eeally, Louisa, this is a thing you might ask him your- 
 self," Evan remonstrated. 
 
 " It would not become me to do so, dear," said the Coun- 
 tess demurely ; and inasmuch as she had already drawn on 
 Andi'ew in her own person pretty largely, her views of pro- 
 priety were correct in this instance. 
 
 Evan had to consent before he could be released. He ran 
 to the end of the walk thi'ough the portal, into the park. 
 Rose was not to be seen. She had gone in to dress for 
 dinner. The opportunity might recur, but would his courage 
 come with it ? His courage had sunk on a sudden ; or it 
 may have been that it was worse for this young man to ask 
 for a loan of money, than to tell his beloved that he was 
 basely born, vile, and unworthy, and had snared her into 
 loving him ; for when he and Andrew were together, money 
 was not alluded to. Andrew, however, betrayed remark- 
 able discomposure. He said plainly that he wanted to leave 
 Beckley Court, and wondered why he didn't leave, and whe- 
 ther he was on his head or his feet, and how he had been 
 such a fool as to come. 
 
 "Do you mean that for me ? " said sensitive Evan. 
 
 " Oh, you ! You're a young buck," returned Andrew, 
 evasively. " We common-place business men — we're out of 
 our element ; and there's poor Carry can't sit down to their 
 dinners without an upset. I thank God I'm a Radical, 
 "Van; one man's the same as another to me, how he's born, 
 as long, as he's honest and agreeable. But a chap like 
 that George Uploft to look down on anybody ! 'Gad, I've 
 a good mind to bring in a Bill for the Abolition of the 
 Squirearchy."
 
 288 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 Ultimately, Andrew somehow contrived to stick a hint or 
 two about the terrible dinner in Evan's quivering flesh. He 
 did it as delicately as possible, half begging pardon, and 
 perspiring profusely. Evan grasped his hand, and thanked 
 him. Caroline's illness was now explained to him. 
 
 " I'll take Caroline with me to-morrow," he said. " Louisa 
 wishes to stay — there's a pic-nic. Will you look to her, and 
 bring her with you ? " 
 
 "My dear Van," replied Andrew, "stop with Louisa? 
 Now, in confidence, it's as bad as a couple of wives; 
 no disrespect to my excellent good Harry at home; but 
 Louisa — I don't know how it is — but Louisa, — you lose 
 your head, you're in a whirl, you're an automaton, a 
 teetotum ! I haven't a notion of what I've been doing or 
 saying since I came here. My belief is, I've been lying 
 right and left. I shall be found out to a certainty. Oh ! 
 if she's made her mind up for the pic-nic, somebody must 
 stop. I can only tell you, Van, it's one perpetual vapour- 
 bath to me. There'll be room for two in my trousers when I 
 get back. I shall have to get the tailor to take them in a 
 full half." 
 
 Here occurred an opening for one of those acrid pleasantries 
 which console us when there is horrid warfare within. 
 
 "You must give me the work," said Evan, partly pleased 
 with himself for being able to jest on the subject, as a piece 
 of preliminary self-conquest. 
 
 " Aha ! " went Andrew, as if the joke were too good to be 
 dwelt on ; " Hem ; " and by way of diverting from it cleverly 
 and naturally, he remarked that the weather was fine. This 
 made Evan allude to his letter written from Lymport, upon 
 which Andrew said: "tush! pish! humbug! nonsense! 
 won't hear a word. Don't know anything about it. Van, 
 you're going to be a brewer. I say you are. You're afraid 
 you can't ? I tell you, sir, I've got a bet on it. You're not 
 going to make me lose, are you — eh ? I have, and a stiff 
 bet, too. You must and shall, so there's an end. Only we 
 can't make arrangements just yet, my boy. Old Tom — very 
 good old fellow — but, you know — must get old Tom out of 
 the way, first. Now go and dress for dinner. And Lord
 
 THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR. 289 
 
 preserve us from the Great Mel to-day ! " Andrew mumbled 
 as lie turned away. 
 
 Evan could not reach, his chamber without being waylaid 
 by the Countess. Had he remembered the sister who sacri- 
 ficed so much for him ? " There, there ! " cried Evan, and 
 her hand closed on the delicious golden whispers of bank- 
 notes. And "Oh, generous Andrew! dear good Evan !" 
 were the exclamations of the gratified lady. 
 
 There remained nearly another hundred. Evan laid out 
 the notes, and eyed them while dressing. They seemed to 
 say to him, " We have you now." Materially, he was bound 
 to Tailordom before ; now he was bound in honour. At the 
 thought he turned cold ; it shot him in an instant millions of 
 miles away from sunny Hose. And he must speak to her and 
 tell her all. How would she look ? The glass brought 
 Polly "Wheedle somehow to his mind; and then came that 
 horrible image of Rose mouthing the word " snip," and 
 shuddering at the hag-like ugliness it reduced her to. Speak 
 to her, and see that aspect with his own eyes ? Impossible. 
 Besides, there was no necessity. A letter would explain 
 everything fully. Evan walked up and down the room, 
 rejoicing in the inspired idea of the letter, and not aware that 
 it was the suggestion of his cowardice. The pains and aches 
 of the word snip, too, set him thinking of his merits. He 
 brought that mighty host to encounter the obnoxious epithet, 
 and quite overwhelmed it ; he all but stifled it. Unfortu- 
 nately, it would give a faint squeak still. And in company 
 his merits evaporated; and though there was no talk of 
 tailors, snip arose in its might, and was dominant. I am 
 doing the young man a certain injustice in thus baring to you 
 his secret soul, for he made himself agreeable, and talked 
 afi'ably and easily, while within him the morbid conflict was 
 going on ; but if you care for him at all, you should know 
 the springs of his conduct. 
 
 That night the letter was written. When written, Evan 
 burned to have Rose reading it to the end, just as condemned 
 criminals long for instant execution. He heard a step in the 
 passage. It was Polly Wheedle. Polly had put her young 
 mistress to bed, and was retiring to her own slumbers. He 
 
 V
 
 290 EVAN HAERINGTON. 
 
 made her take the letter and promise to deliver it immediately. 
 "Would not to-morrow morning do, she asked, as Miss Rose 
 was very sleepy. He seemed to hesitate — he was picturing 
 how Rose looked when very sleepy, and a delicious dreamy 
 languor crept through his veins, and he felt an unutterable 
 pang then. "WTiy should he surrender this darling ? And 
 subtler question — why should he make her unhappy ? Why 
 disturb her- at all in her sweet sleep ? 
 
 "Well," said Evan. "To-morrow will do. — No, take it 
 to-night, for God's sake ! " he cried, as one who bursts the 
 spell of an opiate. " Go at once." The temptation had 
 almost overcome him. 
 
 Polly thought his proceedings very queer. And what 
 could the letter contain ? A declaration, of course. She 
 walked slowly along the passage, meditating on love, and 
 remotely on its slave, Mr. Nicholas Frim. Nicholas had 
 never written her a letter ; but she was determined that he 
 should, some day. She wondered what love-letters were 
 like ? Like valentines without the Cupids. Practical valen- 
 tines, one might say. Not vapoury and wild, but hot and to 
 the point. Delightful things ! No harm in peeping at a 
 love-letter, if you do it with the eye of a friend. 
 
 "Beloved Rose : 
 
 " I call you so for the last " 
 
 Polly spelt thus far when a door opened at her elbow. She 
 dropped her candle, thrust the letter in her bosom, and 
 curtsied to the Countess's voice. The Countess desired her 
 to enter, and all in a tremble Polly crept in. Her air of 
 guilt made the Countess thrill, scenting prey. She had 
 merely called her in to extract daily gossip. The comer of 
 the letter sticking up under Polly's neck attracted her 
 strangely, and beginning with the familiar, "Well, child," 
 she talked of things interesting to Polly, and then exhibited 
 the pic-nic dress. It was a lovely half-mourning; airy 
 sorrows, gauzy griefs, you might imagine to constitute the 
 wearer. White delicately striped, exquisitely trimmed, and 
 of a stuff to make the feminine mouth water !
 
 THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR. 291 
 
 Could Polly refuse to try it on, -when the flattering proposal 
 met her ears? Blushing, shame -faced, adoring the lady who 
 made her look so adorable, Polly tried it on, and the Countess 
 complimented her, and made a doll of her, and turned her 
 this way and that way, and intoxicated her. 
 
 " A rich husband, Polly, child ! and you are a lady ready 
 made." 
 
 Infamous poison to poor Polly ; but as the thunder destroys 
 small insects, exalted schemers are to be excused for riding 
 down their few thousands. Moreover, the Countess really 
 looked upon domestics as being only half-souls. 
 
 Dressed in her own attire again, Polly felt in her pockets, 
 and at her bosom, and sang out : " Oh, my ! Oh, where ! 
 Oh!" 
 
 The letter was lost. The letter could not be found. The 
 Countess grew extremely fatigued, and had to dismiss Polly, 
 in spite of her eager petitions to be allowed to search under 
 the carpets and inside the bed. 
 
 In the morning came Evan's great trial. There stood Rose. 
 She turned to him, and her eyes were happy and unclouded. 
 
 " You are not changed ? " he said. 
 
 " Changed ? what could change me? " 
 
 The God of true hearts bless her ! He could hardly be- 
 lieve it. 
 
 " You are the Eose I knew yesterday ? " 
 
 "Yes, Evan. But you — you look as if you had not 
 slept." 
 
 " You will not leave me this morning, before I go. Rose? 
 Oh, my darling ! this that you do for me is the work of an 
 angel — nothing less ! I have been such a coward. And my 
 beloved ! to feel vile is such agony to me — it makes me feel 
 unworthy of the hand I press. Now all is clear between us. 
 I go : I am forgiven." 
 
 Rose repeated his last words, and then added hurriedly : 
 " All is clear between us? Shall I speak to Mama this 
 morning ? Dear Evan ! it will be right that I should." 
 
 For the moment he could not understand why, but suppos- 
 ing a scrupulous honesty in her, said : " Yes : tell Lady 
 Jocelyn all.'' 
 
 u2
 
 292 EVAN HAREINGTON. 
 
 " And then, Evan, you will never need to go." 
 
 They separated. The deep-toned sentence sang in Evan's 
 heart. Eose and her mother were of one stamp. And Rose 
 might speak for her mother. To take the hands of such a 
 pair and be lifted out of the slough, he thought no shame : 
 and all through the hours of the morning the image of two 
 angels stooping to touch a leper, pressed on his brain like a 
 reality, and went divinely through his blood. 
 
 Towards mid-day Eose beckoned to him, and led him out 
 across the lawn into the park, and along the borders of the 
 stream. 
 
 " Evan," she said, " shall I really speak to Mama ?" 
 
 " You have not yet ? " he answered. 
 
 " No. I have been with Juliana and with Drummond. 
 Look at this, Evan." She showed a small black speck in the 
 palm of her hand, which turned out, on your viewing it closely, 
 to be a brand of the letter L. " Mama did that when I was 
 a little girl, because I told lies. I never could distinguish 
 between truth and falsehood; and Mama set that mark on 
 me, and I have never told a lie since. She forgives anything 
 but that. She will be our friend ; she will never forsake us, 
 Evan, if we do not deceive her. Oh, Evan ! it never is of 
 any use. But deceive her, and she cannot forgive you. It 
 is not in her nature." 
 
 Evan paused before he replied: "You have only to tell 
 her what I have told you. You know everything." 
 
 Eose gave him a flying look of pain : " Everything, Evan ? 
 What do I know ? " 
 
 " Ah, Eose ! do yon compel me to repeat it ? " 
 
 Bewildered, Eose thought : "Have I slept and forgotten 
 it?" 
 
 He saw the persistent grieved interrogation of her eye- 
 brows. 
 
 " Well ! " she sighed resignedly : " I am yours ; you know 
 that, Evan." 
 
 But he was a lover, and quarrelled with her sigh. 
 
 " It may well make you sad now. Rose." 
 
 " Sad ? no, that does not make me sad. No ; but my 
 hands are tied. I cannot defend you or justify myself, and
 
 THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR. 293 
 
 induce Mama to stand by us. Oh, Evan ! you love me ! 
 "why can you not open your heart to me entirely, and trust 
 me?" 
 
 "More?" cried Evan: "Can I trust you more?'' He 
 spoke of the letter : Rose caught his hand. 
 
 " I never had it, Evan. You wrote it last night ? and all 
 was written in it ? I never saw it — but I know all." 
 
 Their eyes fronted. The gates of Rose's were wide open, 
 and he saw no hurtful beasts or lurking snakes in the happy 
 garden within, but Love, like a fixed star. 
 
 " Then you know why I must leave. Rose." 
 
 " Leave? Leave me? On the contrary, you must stay by 
 me, and support me. AVhy, Evan, we have to fight a 
 battle." 
 
 Much as he worshipped her, this intrepid directness of soul 
 startled him — almost humbled him. And her eyes shone 
 with a firm cheerful light, as she exclaimed : "It makes me 
 so happy to think you were the first to mention this. You 
 meant to be, and that's the same thing. I heard it this 
 morning: you wrote it last night. It's you I love, Evan. 
 Your birth, and what you were obliged to do — that's nothing. 
 Of course I'm sorry for it, dear. But I'm more sorry for the 
 pain I must have sometimes put you to. It happened 
 through my mother's father being a merchant; and that side 
 of the family the men and women are quite sordid and un- 
 endurable; and that's how it came that I spoke of disliking 
 tradesmen. I little thought I should ever love one sprung 
 from that class." 
 
 She turned to him tenderly. 
 
 "And in spite of what my birth is, you do love me, 
 Rose?" 
 
 " There's no spite in it, Evan. I do." 
 
 Hard for him, while his heart was melting to caress her, 
 the thought that he had snared this bird of heaven in a net ! 
 Rose gave him no time for reflection, or the moony imagin- 
 ing of their raptures lovers love to dwell upon. 
 
 "You gave the letter to PoUy, of course?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Oh, naughty Polly! I must punish you," Rose apostro-
 
 294 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 phized her. " You might have divided us for ever. Well, 
 we shall have to fight a battle, you understand that. Will 
 you stand by me ? " 
 
 " Would he not risk his soul for her ? 
 
 " Very well, Evan. Then — but don't be sensitive. Oh, 
 how sensitive you are ! I see it all now. This is what we 
 shall have to do. We shall have to speak to Mama to-day — 
 this morning. Drummond has told me he is going to speak 
 to lier, and we must be first. That's decided. I begged a 
 couple of hours. You must not be offended with Drummond. 
 He does it out of pure affection for us, and I can see he's 
 right — or, at least, not quite wrong. He ought, I think, 
 to know that he cannot change me. Yery well, we shall 
 win Mama by what we do. My mother has ten times my 
 wits, and yet I manage her like a feather. I have only to 
 be honest and straightforward. Then Mama will gain over 
 Papa. Papa, of course, won't like it. He's quiet and 
 easy, but he likes blood, but he also likes peace better ; 
 and I think he loves Posey — as well as somebody — almost? 
 Look, dear, there is our seat where we— where you would 
 rob me of my handkerchief I can't talk any more." 
 
 Pose had suddenly fallen from her prattle, soft and 
 short-breathed. 
 
 " Then, dear," she went on, " we shall have to fight the 
 family. Aunt Shorne will be terrible. My poor uncles ! I 
 pity them. But they will soon come round. They always 
 have thought what I did was right, and why should they 
 change their minds now ? I shall tell them that at their 
 time of life a change of any kind is very unwise and bad 
 for them. Then there is Grandmama Bonner. She can. 
 hurt us really, if she pleases. Oh, my dear Evan ! if you 
 had only been a ciirate ! Why isn't your name Parsley ? 
 Then my Grandmama the Countess of Elburne. Well, we 
 have a Countess on our side, haven't we ? And that re- 
 minds me, Evan, if we're to be happy and succeed, you 
 must promise one thing : you will not tell the Countess, 
 your sister. Don't confide this to her. Will you promise V " 
 
 Evan assured her he was not in the habit of pouring 
 secrets into any bosom, the Countess's as little as another's.
 
 THE STREAM FLOWS MUDDY AND CLEAR. 295 
 
 "Very well, then, Evan, it's unpleasant while it lasts, but 
 we shall gain the daj'. Uncle Melville will give you an 
 appointment, and then? " 
 
 At this arch question he seized her and kissed her. The 
 sweet, fresh kiss ! She let him take it as his own. Ah, the 
 darling prize ! Her cheeks were a little redder, and her eyes 
 softer, and softer her voice, but all about her looked to him as 
 her natural home. 
 
 "Yes, Eose," he said, "I will do this, though I don't 
 think you can know what I shall have to endure — not in 
 confessing what I am, but in feeling that I have brouglit you 
 to my level." 
 
 " Does it not raise me ? " she cried. 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 "But in reality, Evan — apart from mere appearances — in 
 reality it does ! it does ! " 
 
 " Men will not think so. Rose, nor can I. Oh, my liose ! 
 how different you make me. Up to this hour I have been so 
 weak ! torn two ways ! You give me double strength. No I 
 though all the hills on earth were heaped on me, I swear I 
 could not surrender you. Nothing shall separate us." 
 
 Then these lovers talked of distant days — compared their 
 feelings on this and that occasion with mutual wonder and 
 delight. Then the old hours lived anew. And — did you 
 really think that, Evan ? And — Oh, Rose ! was that your 
 dream ? And the meaning of that by-gone look : was it what 
 they fancied ? And such and such a tone of voice ; would it 
 bear the wished interpretation ? Thus does Love avenge 
 himself on the unsatisfactory Past, and call out its essence. 
 
 Could Evan do less than adore her ? She knew all, and 
 she loved him ! Since he was too shy to allude more than 
 once to his letter, it was natural that he should not ask her 
 how she came to know, and how much the "all" that she 
 knew comprised. In his letter he had told all ; the condition 
 of his parents, and his own. Honestly, now, what with his 
 dazzled state of mind, his deep inward happiness, and love's 
 endless delusions, he abstained from touching the subject 
 further. Honestly, therefore, as far as a lover can be 
 honest.
 
 296 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 So they toj-ed, and then Rose, setting her fingers loose, 
 whispered: "Are you ready?" And Evan nodded; and 
 Rose, to make him think light of the matter in hand, laughed : 
 " Pluck not quite up yet ? " 
 
 "Quite, my Rose!" said Evan, and they walked to the 
 house, not quite knowing what they were going to do. 
 
 On the steps they met Drummond with Mrs. Evremonde. 
 Little imagining how heart and heart the two had grown, and 
 that Evan would understand him, Drummond called to Rose 
 playfully : " Time's up." 
 
 " Is it? " Rose answered, and to Mrs. Evremonde : " Give 
 Drummond a walk. Poor Drummond is going silly." 
 
 Evan looked into his eyes calmly as he passed, 
 
 "Where are you going. Rose?" said Mrs. Evremonde. 
 
 "Going to give my maid Polly a whipping for losing a 
 letter she ought to have delivered to me last night," said 
 Rose, in a loud voice, looking at Drummond. "And then 
 going to Mama. Pleasure first — duty after. Isn't that the 
 proverb, Drummond ? " 
 
 She kissed her fingers rather scornfully to her old friend. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 MRS. MEL MAKES A BED FOK HERSELF AND FAMILY. 
 
 The last person thought of by her children at this period 
 was Mrs. Mel : nor had she been thinking much of them till 
 a letter from Mr. Goren arrived one day, which caused her to 
 pass them seriously in review. Always an early bird, and 
 with maxims of her own on the subject of rising and getting 
 the worm, she was standing in a small perch in the corner of 
 the shop, dictating accounts to Mrs. Fiske, who was copying 
 hurriedly that she might earn sweet intervals for gossip, when 
 Dandy limped up and delivered the letter. Mrs. Fiske worked 
 hard while her aunt was occupied in reading it, for a great 
 deal of fresh talk follows the advent of the post, and may be
 
 MRS. MEL MAKES A BED. 297 
 
 reckoned on. Without looking up, however, she could tell 
 presently that the letter had been read through. Such being 
 the case, and no conversation coming of it, her curiosity was 
 violent. Her aunt's face, too, was an index of something 
 extraordinary. That inflexible woman, instead of alluding to 
 the letter in any way, folded it up, and renewed her dicta- 
 tion. It became a contest between them which should show 
 her human nature first. Mrs. Mel had to repress what she 
 knew ; Mrs. Fiske to control the passion for intelligence. The 
 close neighbourhood of one anxious to receive, and one capable 
 of giving, waxed too much for both, 
 
 " I think, Anne, you are stupid this morning," said Mrs. 
 Mel. 
 
 " "Well, I am, aunt," said Mrs. Fiske, pretending not to 
 see which was the first to unbend, " I don't know what it is. 
 The figures seem all dazzled like. I shall really be glad when 
 Evan comes to take his proper place." 
 
 " Ah ! " went Mrs. Mel, and Mrs. Fiske heard her mutter- 
 ing^ Then she cried out : " Are Harriet and Caroline as 
 great liars as Louisa ? " 
 
 Mrs. Fiske grimaced. " That would be difiicult, would it 
 not, aunt ? " 
 
 " And I have been telling everybody that my son is in town 
 learning his business, when he's idling at a country house, 
 and trying to play his father over again ! IJpon my word, 
 what with liars and fools, if you go to sleep a minute you 
 have a month's work on your back." 
 
 " "What is it, aunt ?" Mrs. Fiske feebly inquired. 
 
 " A gentleman, I suppose ! He wouldn't take an order if 
 it was ofiered. Upon my word, when tailors think of winning 
 heiresses it's time we went back to Adam and Eve." 
 
 " Do you mean Evan, aunt? " interposed Mrs. Fiske, who 
 probably did not see the turns in her aunt's mind. 
 
 "There — read for yourself," said Mrs. Mel, and left her 
 with the letter. 
 
 Mrs. Fiske read that Mr. Goren had been astonished at 
 Evan's non-appearance, and at his total silence ; which he 
 did not consider altogether gentlemanly behaviour, and cer- 
 tainly not such as his father would have practised. Mr.
 
 298 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 Goren regretted his absence the more as he would have found 
 him useful in a remarkable invention he was about to patent, 
 being a peculiar red cross upon shirts — a fortune to the 
 patentee ; but as Mr. Goren had no natural heirs of his body, 
 he did not care for that. What affected him painfully was 
 the news of Evan's doings at a noble house, Beckley Court, 
 to wit, where, according to the report of a rich young gentle- 
 man friend, Mr. Raikes (for whose custom Mr. Goren was 
 bound to thank Evan), the youth who should have been 
 learning the science of Tailoring, had actually passed himself 
 off as a lord, or the son of one, or something of the kind, and 
 had got engaged to a wealthy heiress, and would, no doubt, 
 marry her if not found out. Where the chances of detection 
 were so numerous, Mr. Goren saw much to condemn in the 
 idea of such a marriage. But "like father like son," said 
 Mr. Goren. He thanked the Lord that an honest tradesman 
 was not looked down upon in this country; and, in fact, gave 
 Mrs. Mel a few quiet digs to waken her remorse in having 
 missed the man that he was. 
 
 When Mrs. Fiske met her aunt again she returned her the 
 letter, and simply remarked : " Louisa." 
 
 Mrs. Mel nodded. She understood the implication. 
 
 The General who had schemed so successfully to gain 
 Evan time at Beckley Court, in his own despite and against a 
 hundred obstructions, had now another enemy in the field, and 
 one who, if she could not undo her work, could punish her. 
 By the afternoon coach, Mrs. Mel, accompanied by Dandy 
 her squire, was journeying to Pallowfield, bent upon desperate 
 things. The faithful squire was kept by her side rather as a 
 security for others than for his particular services. Dandy's 
 arms were crossed, and his countenance was gloomy. He 
 had been promised a holiday that afternoon to give his 
 mistress, Sally, Kilne's cook, an airing, and Dandy knew in 
 his soul that Sally, when she once made up her mind to 
 an excursion, would go, and would not go alone, and that her 
 very force of will endangered her constancy. He had begged 
 humbly to be allowed to stay, but Mrs. Mel could not trust 
 him. She ought to have told him so, perhaps. Explanations 
 were not approved of by this well-intended despot, and how-
 
 MRS. MEL MAKES A BED. 299 
 
 ever beneficial tier resolves might turn out for all parties, it 
 was natural that in the interim the children of her rule 
 should revolt, and Dandy, picturing his SaUy flaunting on 
 the arm of some accursed low marine, haply, kicked against 
 Mrs. Mel's sovereignty, though all that he did was to shoot 
 out his fist from time to time, and grunt through his set 
 teeth: "Iron!" doubtless to expi-ess the character of her 
 awful rule. 
 
 Mrs. Mel alighted at the Dolphin, the landlady of which 
 was a Mrs. Hawkshaw, a rival of Mrs. Sockley of the Green 
 Dragon. She was welcomed by Mrs. Hawkshaw with con- 
 siderable respect. The great Mel had sometimes slept at the 
 Dolphin. 
 
 "Ah, that black!" she sighed, indicating Mrs. Mel's 
 dress and the story it told. 
 
 "I can't give you his room, my dear Mrs. Harrington, — 
 wishing I could! I'm sorry to say it's occupied, for all I 
 ought to be glad, I dare say, for he's an old gentleman who 
 does you a good turn, if you study him. But there ! I'd 
 rather have had poor dear Mr. Harrington in my best bed 
 than old or young— Princes or nobodies, I would — he was 
 that grand and pleasant." 
 
 Mrs. Mel had her tea in Mrs. Hawkshaw' s parlour, and 
 was entertained about her husband up to the hour of supper, 
 when a short step and a querulous voice were heard in the 
 passage, and an old gentleman appeared before them. 
 
 " Who's to carry up my trunk, ma'am? No man here ? " 
 
 Mrs. Hawkshaw bustled out and ti'ied to lay her hand on 
 a man. Palling to find the growth spontaneous, she returned 
 and begged the old gentleman to wait a few moments and the 
 trunk would be sent up. 
 
 "Parcel o' women!" was his reply. " Pegularly be- 
 devilled. Gets worse and worse. I'll carry it up myself." 
 
 With a wheezy eff'ort he persuaded the trunk to stand on 
 one end, and then looked at it. The exertion made him hot, 
 which may account for the rage he burst into when Mrs. 
 Hawkshaw began flutteringly to apologize. 
 
 "You're sure, ma'am, sure — what are you sure of ? I'll 
 tell you what I am sure of — eh ? This keeping clear of men's
 
 300 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 a damned pretence. You don't impose upon me. Don't believe 
 in your pothouse nunneries — not a bit. Just like j-ou ! when 
 you are virtuous it's deuced inconvenient. Let one of the 
 maids try? No. Don't believe in 'em." 
 
 Having thus relieved his spleen the old gentleman addressed 
 himself to further eiforts and waxed hotter. He managed to 
 tilt the trunk over, and thus gained a length, and by this 
 method of progression arrived at the foot of the stairs, where 
 he halted, and wiped his face, blowing lustily. 
 
 Mrs. Mel had been watching him with calm scorn all the 
 while. She saw him attempt most ridiculously to impel the 
 trunk upwards by a similar process, and thought it time to 
 interfere. 
 
 " Don't you see, sir, you must either take it on your 
 shoulders, or have a help ? " 
 
 The old gentleman sprang up from his peculiarly tigbt 
 posture to blaze round at her. He had the words well- 
 peppered on his mouth, but somehow he stopped, and was 
 subsequently content to growl: "Where's the help in a 
 parcel of petticoats ? " 
 
 Mrs. Mel did not consider it necessary to give him an 
 answer. She went up two or three steps, and took hold of 
 one handle of the trunk, saying : " There; I think it can be 
 managed this way," and she pointed for him to seize the 
 other end with his hand. 
 
 He was now in that unpleasant state of pricklj' heat when 
 testy old gentlemen could commit slaughter wholesale with 
 ecstasy. Had it been the maid holding a candle who had 
 dared to venture to advise, he would have overturned her 
 undoubtedly, and established a fresh instance of the imper- 
 tinence, the uselessness, and weakness of women. Mrs. Mel 
 topped him by half a head, and in addition stood three steps 
 above him ; towering like a giantess. The extreme gravity 
 of her large face dispersed all idea of an assault. The old 
 gentleman showed signs of being horribly injured : neverthe- 
 less, he put his hand to "the trunk ; it was lifted, and the pro- 
 cession ascended the stairs in silence. 
 
 The landlady waited for Mrs. Mel to return, and then 
 eaid :
 
 MRS. MEL MAKES A BED. 301 
 
 "Eeally, Mrs. Harrington, you are clever. That lifting 
 that trunk's as good as a lock and bolt on him. You've as 
 good as made him a Dolphin — him that was one o' the 
 oldest Green Dragons in Fallifield. My thanks to you most 
 sincere." 
 
 Mrs. Mel sent out to hear where Dandy had got to : after 
 which, she said : " Who is the man? " 
 
 " I told you, Mrs. Harrington — the oldest Green Dragon. 
 His name, you mean ? Do you know, if I was to breathe it 
 out, I believe he'd jump out of the window. He'd be off, 
 that you might swear to. Oh, such a whimsical ! not ill- 
 meaning — quite the contrary. Study his whims, and you'll 
 never want. There's Mrs. Sockley — she's took iU. He 
 won't go there — that's how I've caught him, my dear — but 
 he pays her medicine, and she looks to him the same. He 
 hate a sick house : but he pity a sick woman. Now, if I can 
 only please him, I can always look on him as half a Dolphin, 
 to say the least ; and perhaps to-morrow I'll teU you who he 
 is, and what, but not to-night ; for there's his supper to get 
 over, and that, they say, can be as bad as the busting of one 
 of his own vats. Awful ! " 
 
 " What does he eat? " said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 " A pair o' chops. That seem simple, now, don't it? And 
 yet they chops make my heart go pitty-pat." 
 
 " The commonest things are the worst done," said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 "It ain't that ; but they must be done his pai'ticular way, 
 do you see, Mrs. Harrington. Laid close on the fire, he say, 
 so as to keep in the juice. But he ups and bounces in a 
 minute at a speck o' black. So, one thing or the other, there 
 you are : no blacks, no juices, I say." 
 
 " Toast the chops," said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 The landlady of the Dolphin accepted this new idea with 
 much enlightenment, but ruefully declared that she was 
 afraid to go against his precise instructions. Mrs. Mel then 
 folded her hands, and sat in quiet reserve. She was one of 
 those numerous women who always know themselves to be 
 right. She was also one of those very few whom Providence 
 favours by confounding dissentients. She was positive the 
 chops would be ill-cooked : but what could she do ? She
 
 302 EVAN HAKRINGTON. 
 
 was not in command here ; so she waited serenely for the cer- 
 tain disasters to enthrone her. Not that the matter of the 
 chops occupied her mind particularly : nor could she dream 
 that the pair in question were destined to form a part of her 
 history, and divert the channel of her fortunes. Her thoughts 
 were about her own immediate work ; and when the land- 
 lady rushed in with the chops under a cover, and said : 
 " Look at 'em, dear Mrs. Harrington ! do look at 'em ! " she 
 had forgotten that she was again to be proved right by the 
 turn of events. 
 
 " Oh, the chops ! " she responded. " Yes : they don't look 
 bad. Send them while they are hot." 
 
 " Send 'em ! Why you don't think I'd have risked their 
 cooling? I have sent 'em; and what do he do but send 'em 
 travelling back, and here they be ; and what objections his is 
 I might study till I was blind, and I shouldn't see 'em." 
 
 "No; I suppose not," said Mrs. Mel. "He won't eat 
 'em ? " 
 
 "Won't eat anything : but his bed-room candle immedi- 
 ately. And whether his sheets are aired. And Mary says he 
 sniffed at the chops ; and that gal really did expect he'd fling 
 them at her. I told you what he was. Oh, dear ! " 
 
 The bell was heard ringing in the midst of the landlady's 
 lamentations. 
 
 "Go to him yourself," said Mrs. Mel. "No Christian 
 man should go to sleep without his supper." 
 
 " Ah ! but he ain't a common Christian," returned Mrs. 
 Hawkshaw. 
 
 The old gentleman was in a hurry to know when his bed- 
 room candle was coming up, or whether they intended to give 
 him one at all that night; if not, let them say so, as he liked 
 plain-speaking. The moment Mrs. Hawkshaw touched upon 
 the chops, he stopped her mouth. 
 
 " Go about your business, ma'am. You can't cook 'em. I 
 never expected you could cook 'em : I was a fool to try you. 
 It requires at least ten years' instruction before a man can 
 get a woman to cook his chop as he likes it." 
 
 " But what was your complaint, sir?" said Mrs. Hawkshaw, 
 imploringly.
 
 MRS. MEL MAKES A BED. 30.3 
 
 " That's right ! " and he rubbed his hands, and brightened 
 his eyes savagely. "That's the way. Opportunity for gos- 
 sip ! Thing's well done — down it goes : you know that. 
 You can't have a word over it — eh ? Thing's done fit to toss 
 on a dungheap, aha ! Then there's a cackle ! My belief is, 
 you do it on purpose. Can't be such rank idiots. You do it 
 on purpose. All done for gossip ! " 
 
 " Oh, sir, no ! " The landlady half curtsied. 
 
 " Oh, ma'am, yes ! " The old gentleman bobbed his head. 
 
 " No, indeed, sir ! " The landlady shook hers. 
 
 " Damn it, ma'am, I swear you do." 
 
 Symptoms of utter wrath here accompanied the declaration ; 
 and, with a sigh and a very bitter feeling, Mrs. Hawkshaw 
 allowed him to have the last word. Apparently this — which 
 I must beg to call the lady's morsel — comforted his irascible 
 system somewhat ; for he remained in a state of composure 
 eight minutes by the clock. And mark how little things hang 
 together. Another word from the landlady, precipitating a 
 retort from him, and a gesture or muttering from her ; and 
 from him a snapping outburst, and from her a sign that she 
 held out still ; in fact, had she chosen to battle for that last 
 word, as in other cases she might have done, then would he 
 have exploded, gone to bed in the dark, and insisted upon 
 sleeping : the consequence of which would have been to 
 change this history. Now while Mrs. Hawkshaw was up- 
 stairs, Mrs. Mel called the servant, who took her to the 
 kitchen, where she saw a prime loin of mutton ; off which she 
 cut two chops with a cunning hand : and these she toasted at 
 a gradual distance, putting a plate beneath them, and a tin 
 behind, and hanging the chops so that they would turn 
 without having to be pierced. The bell rang twice before 
 she could say the chops were ready. The first time, the maid 
 had to tell the old gentleman she was taking up his water. 
 Her next excuse was, that she had dropped her candle. The 
 chops ready — who was to take them ? 
 
 " Really, Mrs. Harrington, you are so clever, you ought, if 
 I might be so bold as say so ; you ought to end it yourself," 
 said the landlady. *' I can't ask him to eat them : he was all 
 but on the busting point when I left him."
 
 304 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 "And that there candle did for him quite," said Mary, the 
 maid. 
 
 " I'm afraid it's chops cooked for nothing," added the 
 landlady. 
 
 Mrs. Mel saw them endangered. The maid held hack : the 
 landlady feared. 
 
 " "We can but try," she said. 
 
 " Oh ! I wish mum, you'd face him, 'stead o' me," said 
 Mary ; " I do dread that old bear's den." 
 
 " Here, I will go," said Mrs. Mel. "Has he got his ale? 
 Better draw it fresh, if he drinks any." 
 
 And up-stairs she marched, the landlady remaining below 
 to listen for the commencement of the disturbance. An 
 utterance of something certainly followed Mrs. Mel's entrance 
 into the old bear's den. Then silence. Then what might 
 have been question and answer. Then — was Mrs. Mel as- 
 saulted? and which was knocked down? It really was a 
 chair being moved to the table. The door opened. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am; do what you like," the landlady heard. 
 Mrs. Mel descended, saying : " Send him up some fresh 
 ale." 
 
 " And you have made him sit down obedient to those 
 chops?" cried the landlady. ""Well might poor dear Mr. 
 Harrington — pleasant man as he was! — say, as he used to 
 say, ' There's lovely women in the world, Mrs. Hawkshaw,' 
 he'd say, ' and there's Duchesses,' he'd say, ' and there's they 
 that can sing, and can dance, and some,' he says, ' that can 
 cook.' Eut he'd look sly as he'd stoop his head and shake it. 
 'Roll 'em into one,' he says, 'and not any of your grand 
 ladies can match my wife at home.' And, indeed, Mrs. Har- 
 rington, he told me he thought so many a time in the great 
 company he frequented." 
 
 Perfect peace reigning above, Mrs. Hawkshaw and Mrs. 
 Mel sat down to supper below ; and Mrs. Hawkshaw talked 
 much of the great one gone. His relict did not care to con- 
 verse about the dead, save in their practical aspect as ghosts ; 
 but she listened, and that passed the time. By-and-by the 
 old gentleman rang, and sent a civil message to know if the 
 landlady had ship's rum in the house.
 
 MKS. MEL MAKES A BED. 305 
 
 "Dear! here's another trouble," cried the poor woman. 
 " No— none ! " 
 
 " Say, yes," said Mrs. Mel, and called Dandy, and charged 
 him to run down the street to the square, and ask for the 
 house of Mr. Coxwell, the maltster, and beg of him, in her 
 name, a bottle of his ship's rum. 
 
 "And don't you tumble down and break the bottle. Dandy. 
 Accidents with spirit-bottles are not excused." 
 
 Dandy went on the errand, after an energetic grunt of 
 "Iron!" 
 
 In due time he retiirned with the bottle, whole and sound, 
 and Mr. Coxwell's compliments. Mrs. Mel examined the 
 cork to see that no process of suction had been attempted, and 
 then said : 
 
 " Carry it up to him, Dandy. Let him see there's a man 
 in the house besides himself." 
 
 "Why, my dear,"^ the landlady turned to her, "it seems 
 natural to you to be mistress where you go. I don't at all 
 mind, for ain't it my profit ? But you do take us off our 
 legs." 
 
 "Iron!" was heard in muttered thunder from Dandy 
 aloft. 
 
 Then the landlady, warmed by gratitude towards Mrs. Mel, 
 told her that the old gentleman was the great London brewer, 
 who brewed there with his brother, and brewed for himself 
 five mUes out of Fallowfield, half of which and a good part of 
 the neighbourhood he owned, and his name was Mr. Tom 
 Cogglesby. 
 
 " Oh ! " went Mrs. Mel. " And his brother is Mr. 
 Andrew." 
 
 "That's it," said the landlady. "And because he took it 
 into his head to go and to choose for himself, and be married, 
 no getting his brother, Mr. Tom, to speak to him. Why not, 
 indeed ? If there's to be no marrying, the sooner we lay 
 down and give up, the better, I think. But that's his way. 
 He do hate us women, Mrs. Harrington. I have heard he 
 was crossed. Some say it was the lady of Beckley Court, 
 who was a Beauty, when he was only a poor cobbler's son." 
 
 Mrs. Mel breathed nothing of her relationship to Mr. Tom,
 
 306 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 but continued, from time to time, to express solicitude about 
 Dandy. They beard the door open, and old Tom laughing in 
 a capital good temper, and then Dandy came down, evidently 
 full of ship's rum. 
 
 " He's pumped me ! " said Dandy, nodding heavily at his 
 mistress. 
 
 Mrs. Mel took him up to his bed-room, and locked the 
 door. On her way back she passed old Tom's chamber, and 
 his chuckles were audible to her. 
 
 " They finished the rum," said Mrs. Hawkshaw. 
 
 "I shall rate him for that to-morrow," said Mrs. Mel. 
 " Giving that poor beast liquor ! " 
 
 "Rate Mr. Tom! Oh! Mrs. Harrington! Why, he'U 
 snap your head off for a word." 
 
 Mrs. Mel replied that her head would require a great deal 
 of snapping to come off. 
 
 During this conversation they had both heard a singular 
 intermittent noise above. Mrs. Hawkshaw was the first 
 to ask : 
 
 " "What can it be? More trouble with him? He's in his 
 bed-room now." 
 
 "Mad with drink, like Dandy, perhaps," said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 " Hark ! " cried the landlady. " Oh ! " 
 
 It seemed that Old Tom was bouncing about in an extra- 
 ordinary manner. Now came a pause, as if he had sworn 
 to take his rest : now the room shook, and the windows 
 rattled. 
 
 " One 'd think, really, his bed was a frying-pan, and him 
 a live fish in it," said the landlady. " Oh — there, again ! 
 My goodness ! have he got a flea? " 
 
 The thought turned Mrs. Hawkshaw white. Mrs. Mel 
 joined in : 
 
 " Or a " 
 
 " Don't ! don't, my dear ! " she was cut short. " Oh ! one 
 o' them little things 'd be ruin to me. To think o' that ! 
 Hark at him ! It must be. And what's to do ? • I've sent 
 the maids to bed. "We haven't a man. If I was to go and 
 knock at his door, and ask ? " 
 
 " Better try and get him to be qiiiet somehow." 
 
 J
 
 MKS. MEL MAKES A BED. 307 
 
 " Ah ! I dure say I shall make him fire out fifty times 
 worse." 
 
 Mrs. Hawkshaw stipulated that Mrs. Mel should stand by 
 her, and the two women went up-stairs and stood at Old 
 Tom's door. There they could hear him fuming and mutter- 
 ing unearthly imprecations, and anon there was an interval of 
 silence, and then the room was shaken, , and the cursings 
 recommenced. 
 
 " It must be a fight he's having with a flea," said the land- 
 lady. " Oh ! pray heaven, it is a flea. For a flea, my dear 
 — gentlemen may bring that theirselves ; but a b — , that's a 
 stationary, and born of a bed. Don't you hear ? The other 
 thing 'd give him a minute's rest ; but a flea's hop — hop — ofi" 
 and on. And he sound like an old gentleman worried by a 
 flea. What are you doing? " 
 
 Mrs. Mel had knocked at the door. The landlady waited 
 breathlessly for the result. It appeared to have quieted Old 
 Tom. 
 
 " What's the matter?" said Mrs. Mel, severely. 
 
 The landlady implored her to speak him fair, and reflect 
 on the desperate things he might attempt. 
 
 " "What's the matter ? Can anything be done for you? " 
 
 Mr. Tom Cogglesby's reply comprised an insinuation so in- 
 famous regarding women when they have a solitary man in 
 their power, that I refuse to place it on record. 
 
 " Is anything the matter with your bed ? " 
 
 "Anything? Yes; anything is the matter, ma'am. Hope 
 twenty live geese inside it's enough — eh ? Bed, do you call 
 it ? It's the rack ! It's damnation ! Bed ? Ha ! " 
 
 After delivering this, he was heard stamping up and down 
 the room. 
 
 " My very best bed ! " whispered the landlady. " Would 
 it please you, sir, to change — I can give you another ? " 
 
 " I'm not a man of experiments, ma'am — 'specially in 
 strange houses." 
 
 " So very, very sorry ! " 
 
 " What the deuce ! " Old Tom came close to the door. 
 "You whimpering! You put a man in a beast of a bed — 
 you drive him half mad — and then begin to blubber ! Go away." 
 
 X 2
 
 308 EVAN HARRINGTOK 
 
 " I am so sorry, sir! " 
 
 " If you don't go away, ma'am, I shall think your inten- 
 tions are improper." 
 
 " Oh, my goodness ! " cried poor Mrs. Hawkshaw. " "What 
 can you do with him? I never was suspected of such a 
 thing." 
 
 " And I'll open the door, ma'am, and then — ha ! Then ! — 
 though I am the only man in the house — " 
 
 Mrs. Mel put Mrs. Hawkshaw behind her. 
 
 "Are you dressed ? " she called out. 
 
 In this way Mrs. Mel tackled Old Tom. He was told that 
 should he consent to cover himself decently, she would come 
 into his room and make his bed confortable. And in a voice 
 that dispersed armies of innuendoes, she bade him take his 
 choice, either to rest quiet or do her bidding. 
 
 Had Old Tom foucd his master at last, and in one of the 
 hated sex ? 
 
 Breathlessly Mrs. Hawkshaw waited his answer, and she 
 was an astonished woman when it came. 
 
 (I Yery well, ma'am. Wait a couple of minutes. Do as 
 you like." 
 
 On their admission to the interior of the chamber, Old Tom 
 was exhibited in his daily garb, sufficiently subdued to be 
 civil and explain the cause of his discomfort. Lumps in his 
 bed. He was bruised by them. He supposed he couldn't 
 ask women to judge for themselves — they'd be shrieking — 
 but he could assure them he was blue all down his back. He 
 knew it by the glass. JSTo mistake. He believed the geese 
 in the bed were not alive now, or they took a deuced deal of 
 killing. 
 
 Mrs. Mel and Mrs. Hawkshaw turned the bed about, and 
 punched it, and rolled it. 
 
 " Ha ! " went Old Tom, " what's the good of that ? That's 
 just how I found it. Moment I got into bed geese began to 
 put up their backs." 
 
 Mrs. Mel seldom indulged in a joke, and then only when it 
 had a proverbial cast. On the present occasion, the truth 
 struck her forcibly, and she said : 
 
 " One fool makes many, and so, no doubt, does one goose."
 
 MRS. MEL MAKES A BED. 309 
 
 Accompanied by a smile the words would have seemed im- 
 pudent ; but spoken as a plain fact, and with a grave face, it 
 set Old Tom blinking like a small boy ten minutes after the 
 whip. 
 
 " J^ow," she pursued, speaking to him as to an old child, 
 "look here. This is how your manage, ^nead down in the 
 middle of the bed. Then jump into the hollow. Lie there, 
 and you needn't wake till morning." 
 
 Old Tom came to the side of the bed. He had prepared 
 himself for a wretched night, an uproar, and eternal com- 
 plaints against the house, its inhabitants, and its foundations; 
 but a woman stood there who as much as told him that 
 digging his fist into the flock and jumping into the hole — 
 into that hole under his eyes — was all that was wanted ! that 
 he had been making a noise for nothing, and because he had 
 not the wit to hit on a simple contrivance ! Then, too, his 
 jest about the geese — this woman had put a stop to that ! He 
 inspected the hollow cynically. A man might instruct Old 
 Tom on a point or two: Old Tom was not going to admit that 
 a woman could. 
 
 "Oh, very well; thank you, ma'am; that's your idea. I'll 
 try it. Good night." 
 
 " Good night," returned Mrs. Mel. " Don't forget to jump 
 into the middle." 
 
 " Head foremost, ma'am ? " 
 
 "As you weigh," said Mrs. Mel, and Old Tom crumped his 
 lips, silenced if not beaten. Beaten, one might almost say, 
 for nothing more was heard of him that night. 
 
 He presented himself to Mrs. Mel after breakfast next 
 morning. 
 
 " Slept well, ma'am." 
 
 " Oh ! then you did as I directed you," said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 " Those chops, too, very good. I got through 'em." 
 
 " Eating, like scratching, only wants a beginning," said 
 Mrs. Mel. 
 
 " Ha ! you've got your word, then, as well as everybody 
 else. Where's your Dandy this morning, ma'am? " 
 
 "Locked up. Ton ought to be ashamed to give that poor 
 beast liquor. He won't get fresh air to-day."
 
 810 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 "Ha! May I ask you where you're going to-day, 
 ma'am ? " 
 
 " I am going to Beckley." 
 
 " So am I, ma'am. What d'ye say, if we join company. 
 Care for insinuations ? " 
 
 " I want a conveyance of some sort," returned Mrs. Mel. 
 
 " Object to a donkey, ma'am ? " 
 
 "Not if he's strong and will go." 
 
 " Good," said Old Tom; and while he spoke a donkey-cart 
 stopped in front of the Dolphin, and a well-dressed man 
 touched his hat. 
 
 "Get out of that damned bad habit, will you?" growled 
 Old Tom. " What do ye mean by wearing out the brim o' 
 your hat in that way ? Help this woman in." 
 
 Mrs. Mel helped herself to a part of the seat. 
 
 " "We are too much for the donkey," she said. 
 
 "Ha, that's right. What I have, ma'am, is good. I can't 
 pretend to horses, but my donkey's the best. Are you 
 going to cry about him ? " 
 
 "No. When he's tired I shall either walk or harness 
 you," said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 This was spoken half-way down the High Street of Fallow- 
 field. Old Tom looked full in her face, and bawled out : 
 
 " Deuce take it. Are you a woman ? " 
 
 " I have borne three girls and one boy," said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 " What sort of a husband ? " 
 
 " He is dead." 
 
 "Ha! that's an opening, but ' tain' t an answer. I'm off 
 to Beckley on a marriage business. I'm the son of a cobbler, 
 so I go in a donkey-cart No damned pretences for me. I'm 
 going to marry off a young tailor to a gal he's been playing 
 the lord to. If she cares for him she'll take him : if not, 
 they're all the luckier, both of 'em." 
 
 " What's the tailor's name ? " said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 "You are a woman," returned Old Tom. "Now, come, 
 ma'am, don't you feel ashamed of being in a donkey- cart ? " 
 
 " I'm ashamed of men, sometimes," said Mrs. Mel; "never 
 of animals." 
 
 " 'Shamed o' me, perhaps." 
 
 I
 
 MRS. MEL MAKES A BED. 311 
 
 " I don't know you." 
 
 " Ha ! well ! I'm a man with no pretences. Do you like 
 'em ? How have you brought up your three girls and one 
 boy ? No pretences — eh ? " 
 
 Mrs. Mel did not answer, and Old Tom jogged the reins 
 and chuckled, and asked his donkey if he wanted to be a 
 racer. 
 
 " Should you take me for a gentleman, ma'am ? " 
 
 "I dare say you are, sir, at heart. Not from your manner 
 of speech." 
 
 " I mean appearances, ma'am." 
 
 " I judge by the disposition." 
 
 "You do, ma'am? Then, deuce take it, if you are a 
 woman, you're " Old Tom had no time to conclude. 
 
 A great noise of wheels, and a horn blown, caused them 
 both to turn their heads, and they beheld a curricle descend- 
 ing upon them vehemently, and a fashionably attired young 
 gentleman straining with all his might at the reins. The 
 next instant they were rolling on the bank. About twenty 
 yards ahead the curricle was halted and turned about to see 
 the extent of the mischief done. 
 
 " Pardon, a thousand times, my worthy couple," cried the 
 sonorous Mr. Raikes. " What we have seen we swear not to 
 divTilge. Franco and Fred — your pledge ! " 
 
 " We swear ! " exclaimed this couple. 
 
 But suddenly the cheeks of Mr. John Raikes flushed. He 
 alighted from the box, and rushing up to Old Tom, was 
 shouting, " My bene — " 
 
 "Do you want my toe on your plate?" Old Tom stopped 
 him with. 
 
 The mysterious words completely changed the aspect of Mr. 
 John Raikes. He bowed obsequiously and made his friend 
 Franco step down and assist in the task of re-establishing 
 the donkey, who fortunately had received no damage.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 EXHIBITS EOSe's GENERALSHIP; EVAN's PEEFOEMANCE Olif 
 THE SECOND PIDDLE ; AND THE WRETCHEDNESS OF THE 
 COUNTESS. 
 
 "We left Rose and Evan on their way to Lady Jocelyn. At 
 the library-door Eose turned to him, and with her chin 
 archly lifted sideways, said : 
 
 " I know what you feel ; you feel foolish." 
 
 Now the sense of honour, and of the necessity of acting the 
 part it imposes on him, may he very strong in a young man ; 
 but certainly, as a rule, the sense of ridicule is more poignant, 
 and Evan was suffering horrid pangs. We none of us like to 
 play second fiddle. To play second fiddle to a woman is an 
 abomination to us all. But to have to perform upon that 
 instrument to the darling of our hearts — would we not rather 
 die ? nay, almost rather end the duet precipitately and with 
 violence. Evan, when he passed Drummond into the house, 
 and quietly returned his gaze, endured the fii'st shock of this 
 strange feeling. There could be no doubt that he was playing 
 second fiddle to Rose. And what was he about to do ? Oh, 
 horror ! to stand like a criminal, and say, or worse, have said 
 for him, things to tip the ears with fire ! To tell the young 
 lady's mother that he had won her daughter's love, and 
 meant — what did he mean ? He knew not. Alas ! he was 
 second fiddle ; he could only mean what she meant. Evan 
 loved Rose deeply and completely, but noble manhood was 
 strong in him. You may sneer at us, if you please, ladies. 
 We have been educated in a theory, that when you lead off 
 with the bow, the order of Nature is reversed, and it is no 
 wonder, therefore, that, having stript us of one attribute, our 
 fine feathers moult, and the majestic cock-like march which 
 distinguishes us degenerates. You unsex us, if I may dare 
 to say so. Ceasing to be men, what are we ? If we are to 
 please you rightly, always allow us to play First.
 
 ROSE'S GENERALSHIP. 313 
 
 Poor Evan did feel foolish. "Whether Rose saw it in his 
 walk, or had a loving feminine intuition of it, and was aware 
 of the golden rule I have just laid down, we need not inquire. 
 She hit the fact, and he could only stammer, and bid her open 
 the door. 
 
 "No," she said, after a slight hesitation, "it will be better 
 that I should speak to Mama alone, I see. "Walk out on the 
 lawn, dear, and wait for me. And if you meet Drummond, 
 don't be angry with him. Drummond is very fond of me, 
 and of course I shall teach him to be fond of you. He only 
 thinks . . . what is not true, because he does not know 
 you. I do thoroughly, and there, you see, I give you my 
 hand." 
 
 Evan drew the dear hand humbly to his lips. Rose then 
 nodded meaningly, and let her eyes dwell on him, and went 
 in to her mother to open the battle. 
 
 Could it be that a flame had sprung up in those grey eyes 
 latterly ? Once they were like morning before sunrise. How 
 soft and warm and tenderly transparent they could now be ! 
 Assuredly she loved him. And he, beloved by the noblest 
 girl ever fashioned, why should he hang his head, and shrink 
 at the thought of human faces, like a wretch doomed to the 
 pillory ? He visioned her last glance, and lightning emotions 
 of pride and happiness flashed through his veins. The gene- 
 rous, brave heart ! Yes, with her hand in his, he could stand 
 at bay — meet any fate. Evan accepted Rose because he 
 believed in her love, and judged it by the strength of his own; 
 her sacrifice of her position he accepted, because in his soul 
 he knew he should have done no less. He mounted to the 
 level of her nobleness, and losing nothing of the beauty of 
 what she did, it was not so strange to him. 
 
 Still there was the baleful reflection that he was second 
 fiddle to his beloved. No harmony came of it in his mind. 
 How could he take an initiative ? He walked forth on the 
 lawn, where a group had gathered under the shade of a 
 maple, consisting of Drummond Forth, Mrs. Evremonde, Mrs. 
 Shorne, Mr. George "Cploft, Seymour Jocelyn, and Ferdinand 
 Laxley. A little apart Juliana Bonner was walking with 
 Miss Carrington. Juliana, when she saw him, left her com-
 
 314 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 panion, and passing him swiftly, said, " Follow me presently 
 into the conservatory." 
 
 Evan strolled near the group, and bowed to Mrs. Shorne, 
 whom he had not seen that morning. 
 
 The lady's acknowledgment of his salute was constrained, 
 and but a shade on the side of recognition. They were silent 
 till he was out of earshot. He noticed that his second 
 approach produced the same effect. In the conservatory 
 Juliana was awaiting him. 
 
 " It is not to give you roses I called you here, Mr. Harring- 
 ton," she said. 
 
 " Not if I beg one ? " he responded. 
 
 *' Ah ! but you do not want them from ... It depends on 
 the person." 
 
 " Pluck this," said Evan, pointing to a white rose. 
 
 She put her fingers to the stem. 
 
 " What folly ! " she cried, and turned from it. 
 
 "Are you afraid that I shall compromise you?" asked 
 Evan. 
 
 " You care for me too little for that." 
 
 " My dear Miss Bonner ! " 
 
 " How long did you know Rose before you called her by 
 her Christian name ? " 
 
 Evan really could not remember, and was beginning to 
 wonder what he had been called there for. The little lady 
 had feverish eyes and fingers, and seemed to be burning to 
 speak, but afraid. 
 
 " I thought you had gone," she dropped her voice, "with- 
 out wishing me good bye." 
 
 " I certainly should not do that. Miss Bonner." 
 
 " Eormal ! " she exclaimed, half to herself. " Miss Bonner 
 thanks you. Do you think I wish you to stay ? No friend 
 of yours would wish it. Yoa do not know the selfishness — 
 brutal ! — of these people of birth, as they call it." 
 
 " I have met with nothing but kindness here," said 
 Evan. 
 
 " Then go while you can feel that," she answered ; "for it 
 cannot last another hour. Here is the rose." She broke it 
 from the stem and handed it to him. " You may wear that, 
 
 I
 
 ROSE'S GENERALSHIP. 315 
 
 and they are not so likely to call you an adventurer, and 
 names of that sort. I am. hardly considered a lady by 
 them." 
 
 An adventurer! The full meaning of the phrase struck 
 Evan's senses when he was alone. Miss Bonner knew some- 
 thing of his condition, evidently. Perhaps it was generally 
 known, and perhaps it was thought that he had come to win 
 Rose for his worldly advantage ! The idea was overwhelm- 
 ingly new to him. Up started self-love in arms. He would 
 renounce her. 
 
 It is no insignificant contest when love has to crush self- 
 love utterly. At moments it can be done. Love has divine 
 moments. There are times also when Love draws part of his 
 being from self-love, and can find no support without it. 
 
 But how could he renounce her, when she came forth to 
 him, smiling, speaking freshly and lightly, and with the 
 colour on her cheeks which showed that she had done her 
 part ? How could he retract a step ? 
 
 "I have told Mama, Evan. That's over. She heard it 
 first from me." 
 
 "And she?" 
 
 "Dear Evan, if you are going to be sensitive, I'll run 
 away. You that fear no danger, and are the bravest man I 
 ever knew ! I think you are really trembling. She will 
 speak to Papa, and then — and then, I suppose, they will both 
 ask you whether you intend to give me up, or no. I'm afraid 
 you'll do the former." 
 
 " Your mother — Lady Jocelyn listened to you, Eose ? You 
 told her aU?" 
 
 " Every bit." 
 
 " And what does she think of me ? " 
 
 " Thinks you very handsome and astonishing, and me very 
 idiotic and natural, and that there is a great deal of bother in 
 the world, and that my noble relatives will lay the blame of 
 it on her. No, dear, not all that ; but she talked very sen- 
 sibly to me, and kindly. You know she is called a philo- 
 sopher : nobody knows how deep-hearted she is, though. My 
 mother is true as steel. I can't separate the kindness from 
 the sense, or I would tell you all she said. When I say
 
 316 EVAN HAKKINGTON. 
 
 kindness, I don't mean any ' Oh, my child,' and tears, and 
 kisses, and maundering, you know. You mustn't mind her 
 thinking me a little fool. You want to know what she thinks 
 of you. She said nothing to hurt you, Evan, and we have 
 gained ground so far, and now we'll go and face our ene- 
 mies. Uncle Mel expects to hear about your appointment, 
 in a day or two, and " 
 
 " Oh. Eose ! " Evan burst out. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Why must I owe everything to you ? " 
 
 "Why, dear? Why, because, if you do, it's very much 
 better than your owing it to anybody else. Proud again? " 
 
 Not proud : only second fiddle. 
 
 " You know, dear Evan, when two people love, there is no 
 Buch thing as owing between them." 
 
 "Eose, I have been thinking. It is not too late. I love 
 3^ou, God knows ! I did in Portugal : I do now — more and 
 more. But Oh, my bright angel ! " he ended the sen- 
 tence in his breast. 
 
 "Well? but— what?" 
 
 Evan sounded down the meaning of his " but." Stripped 
 of the usual heroics, it was, " what will be thought of me ? " 
 not a small matter to any of us. He caught a distant glimpse 
 of the little bit of bare selfishness, and shrunk from it. 
 
 " Too late," cried Eose. " The battle has commenced 
 now, and, Mr. Harrington, I will lean on your arm, and be 
 led to my dear friends yonder. Do they think that I am 
 going to put on a mask to please them ? Not for anybody ! 
 What they are to know they may as well know at once." 
 
 She looked in Evan's face. . 
 
 " Do you hesitate ? " 
 
 He felt the contrast between his own and hers ; between 
 the niggard spirit of the beggarly receiver, and the high 
 bloom of the exalted giver. Nevertheless, he loved her too 
 well not to share much of her nature, and wedding it sud- 
 denly, he said : 
 
 " Eose ; tell me, now. If you were to see the place whe'"> 
 I was born, could you love me still ? " 
 
 " Yes, Evan."
 
 EOSE'S GENERALSHIP. 317 
 
 " If you were to hear me spoken of with contempt " 
 
 " Who dares ? " cried Eose. *' Never to me ! " 
 
 " Contempt of what I spring from, Eose. Names used . . . 
 Ifames are used ..." 
 
 " Tush !— names ! " said Eose, reddening. " How cowardly 
 that is ! Have you finished ? Oh, faint heart ! I suppose 
 I'm not a fair lady, or you wouldn't have won me. Now, 
 come. Eemember, Evan, I conceal nothing ; and if anything 
 makes you wretched here, do think how I love you." 
 
 In his own fijm belief he had said everything to arrest her 
 in her course, and been silenced by transcendent logic. She 
 thought the same. 
 
 Leaning on his arm, Eose made up to the conclave under 
 the maple. 
 
 The voices hushed as they approached. 
 
 " Capital weather," said Eose. "Does Harry come back 
 from London to-morrow — does anybody know ? " 
 
 " Not awaah," Laxley was heard to reply. 
 
 Eose had not relinquished Evan's arm. She clung to it 
 ostentatiously, with her right hand stuck in her side. 
 
 " Do you find support necessary ? " inquired Mrs. Shorne. 
 
 " No, aunt," Eose answered, immoveably. 
 
 " Singular habit ! " Mrs. Shorne interjected. 
 
 " No habit at all, aunt. A whim." 
 
 " More suitable for public assemblies, I should think." 
 
 " Depends almost entirely upon the gentleman ; doesn't it, 
 aunt?" 
 
 Anger at her niece's impertinence provoked the riposte : 
 
 " Yes, upon its being a gentleman." 
 
 Mrs. Shorne spoke under her breath, but there was an 
 uneasy movement through the company after she had spoken. 
 Seymour Jocelyn screwed his moustache : Mr. George Uploft 
 tugged at his waistcoat : Laxley grimaced : and the ladies 
 exchanged glances : all very quietly and of the lightest kind 
 — a mere ruifle of the surface. It was enough for Evan. 
 
 " I want to speak a word to you, Eose," said Mrs. Shorne. 
 
 "With the greatest pleasure, my dear aunt:" and Eose 
 walked after her. 
 
 "My dear Eose," Mrs. Shorne commenced,
 
 318 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 duct requires that I should really talk to you most seriously. 
 You are probably not aware of what you are doing. Nobody 
 likes ease and natural familiarity more than I do. I am per- 
 suaded it is nothing but your innocence. You are young to 
 the world's ways, and perhaps a little too headstrong, and 
 vain." 
 
 " Conceited and wilful," added Rose. 
 
 " If you like the words better. But I must say — I do not 
 wish to trouble your father — you know he cannot bear worry 
 — but I must say, that if you do not listen to me, he must 
 be spoken to." 
 
 " Why not Mama ? " 
 
 " I should naturally select my brother first. No doubt you 
 understand me." 
 
 " Any distant aUusion to Mr. Harrington? " 
 
 " Pertness wiU not avail you, Eose." 
 
 " So you want me to do secretly what I am doing 
 openly?" 
 
 " You must and shall remember you are a Jocelyn, 
 Eose." 
 
 " Only half, my dear aunt ! " 
 
 " And by birth a lady, Eose." 
 
 *' And I ought to look under my eyes, and blush, and 
 shrink, whenever I come near a gentleman, aunt ! " 
 
 " Ah ! my dear. No doubt you will do what is most 
 telling. Since you have spoken of this Mr. Harrington, I 
 ■must inform you that I have it on certain authority from two 
 or three sources, that he is the son of a small shopkeeper at 
 Lymport." 
 
 Mrs. Shorne watched the effect she had produced. 
 
 " Indeed, aunt ? " cried Eose. " And do you know this to 
 be true?" 
 
 *' So when you talk of gentlemen, Eose, please be careful 
 whom you include." 
 
 "I mustn't include poor Mr. Harrington? Then my 
 Grandpapa Bonner is out of the list, and such numbers of 
 good worthy men ? " 
 
 Mrs. Shorne understood the hit at the defunct manufac- 
 turer. She said: " You must most distinctly give me your
 
 ROSE'S GENERALSHIP. 319 
 
 promise, while this young adventiu'er remains here — I think 
 it will not be long — not to be compromising yourself further, 
 as you now do. Or — indeed I must — I shall let your parents 
 perceive that such conduct is ruin to a young girl in your 
 position, and certainly you will be sent to Elburne House 
 for the winter." 
 
 Rose lifted her hands, crying : "Ye Gods! — as Harry says. 
 But I'm very much obliged to you, my dear aunt. Con- 
 cerning Mr. Harrington, wonderfully obliged. Son of a 
 small ! Is it a t-t-tailor, aunt? " 
 
 " It is — I have heard." 
 
 " And that is much worse. Cloth is viler than cotton ! And 
 don't they call these creatures sn-snips ? Some word of that 
 sort?" 
 
 " It makes little difference what they are called." 
 
 " "Well, aunt, I sincerely thank you. As this subject 
 seems to interest you, go and see Mama, now. She can tell 
 you a great deal more : and, if you want her authority, come 
 back to me." 
 
 Rose then left her aunt in a state of extreme indignation. 
 It was a clever move to send Mrs. Shorne to Lady Jocelj-n. 
 They were antagonistic, and, rational as Lady Jocelyn was, 
 and with her passions under control, she was unlikely to side 
 with Mrs. Shorne. 
 
 Now Rose had fought against herself, and had, as she 
 thought, conquered. In Portugal Evan's half insinuations 
 had given her small suspicions, which the scene on board the 
 Jocasta had half confirmed: and since she came to communicate 
 •with her own mind, she bore the attack of all that rose 
 against him, bit by bit. She had not been too blind to see 
 the unpleasantness of the fresh facts revealed to her. They 
 did not change her ; on the contrary, drew her to him faster 
 — and she thought she had completely conquered whatever 
 coidd rise against him. But when Juliana Bonner told her 
 that day that Evan was not only the son of the thing, but the 
 thing himself, and that his name could be seen any day in 
 Lymport, and that he had come from the shop to Beckley, 
 poor Rosey had a sick feeling that almost sank her. For a 
 moment she looked back wildly to the doors of retreat. Her
 
 320 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 eyes had to feed on Evan, she had to taste some of the luxury 
 of love, before she could gain composure, and then her arro- 
 gance towards those she called her enemies did not quite 
 return. 
 
 " In that letter you told me all — aU — all, Evan ? " 
 
 " Yes, all — religiously." 
 
 " Oh, why did I miss it ! " 
 
 " Would it give you pleasure ? " 
 
 She feared to speak, being tender as a mother to his sensi- 
 tiveness. The expressive action of her eyebrows sufficed. 
 She could not bear concealment, or doubt, or a shadow of dis- 
 honesty ; and he, gaining force of soul to join with hers, took 
 her hands and related the contents of the letter fully. She 
 was pale when he had finished. It was some time before she 
 was able to get free from the trammels of prejudice, but when 
 she did, she did without reserve, saying : " Evan, there is no 
 man who would have done so much," and he was told that 
 he was better loved than ever. These little exaltations and 
 generosities bind lovers tightly. He accepted the credit she 
 gave him, and at that we need not wonder. It helped him 
 further to accept herself, otherwise could he — his name known 
 to be on a shop-front — have aspired to her still ? But, as an 
 unexampled man, princely in soul, as he felt, why, he might 
 kneel to Eose Jocelyn. So they listened to one another, and 
 blinded the world by putting bandages on their eyes, after the 
 fashion of little boys and girls. 
 
 Meantime the fair being who had brought these two from 
 the ends of the social scale into this happy tangle, the bene- 
 ficent Countess, was wretched. When you are in the enemy's 
 country you are dependent on the activity and zeal of your 
 spies and scouts, and the best of these — Polly Wheedle, to 
 wit — had proved defective, recalcitrant even. And because a 
 letter had been lost in her room ! as the Countess exclaimed 
 to herself, though Polly gave her no reasons. The Countess 
 had, therefore, to rely chiefly upon personal observation, upon 
 her intuitions, upon her sensations in the proximity of the 
 people to whom she was opposed; and from these she gathered 
 that she was, to use the word which seemed fitting to her, 
 betrayed. Still to be sweet, still to smile and to amuse, —
 
 ROSE'S GENERALSHIP. 321 
 
 still to give her zealous attention to the business of the diplo- 
 matist's Election, still to go through her church-services 
 devoutly, required heroism ; she was equal to it, for she had 
 remarkable courage; but it -was hard to feel no longer at one 
 with Providence. Had not Providence suggested Sir Abra- 
 ham to her? killed him off at the right moment in aid of her? 
 And now Providence had turned, and the assistance she had 
 formerly received from that Power, and given thanks for so 
 profusely, was the cause of her terror. It was absolutely as 
 if she had been borrowing from an abhorred Jew, and were 
 called upon to pay fifty -fold interest. 
 
 "Evan!" she writes in a gasp to Harriet. "We must 
 pack up and depart. Abandon every*;hing. He has disgraced 
 us all, and ruined himself. The greater his punishment, the 
 greater the mercy to him. Impossible that we can stay for 
 the pic-nic. "We are Icnoivn, dear. Think of my position one 
 day in this house ! Particulars when I embrace you. I dare 
 not trust a letter here. If Evan had confided .in me ! He is 
 impenetrable. He will be low all his life, and I refuse any 
 more to sully myself in attempting to lift him. For Silva's 
 sake I must positivel)'' break the connection. Heaven knows 
 what I have done for this boy, and will support me in the 
 feeling that I have done enough. My conscience at least is 
 safe." 
 
 Like many illustrious Generals, the Countess had, for 
 the hour, lost heart. We find her, however, the next day, 
 writing : 
 
 "Oh! Harriet! what trials for sisterly affection! Can I 
 possibly — weather the gale, as the old L — sailors used to 
 say ? It is dreadful. I fear I am by duty bound to stop on. 
 — Little Bonner thinks Evan quite a duke's son, — has been 
 speaking to her Grandmama, and to-day, this morning, the 
 venerable old lady quite as much as gave me to understand 
 that an union between our brother and her son's child would 
 sweetly gratify her, and help her to go to her rest in peace. 
 Can I chase that spark of comfort from one so truly pious ? 
 Dearest Juliana ! I have anticipated Evan's feeling for her, 
 and so she thinks his conduct cold. Indeed, I told her, point 
 blank, he loved her. That, you know, is different from
 
 322 EVAN" HARRINGTON. 
 
 saying dyhig of love, which would have been an untruth. 
 But, Evan, of course ! No getting him ! Should Juliana ever 
 reproach me, I can assure the child that any man is in love 
 with any woman — which is really the case. It is, you dear 
 humdrum ! what the dictionary calls ' nascent.' I never liked 
 the word, but it stands for a fact, though I would rather have 
 had it ' sweet scent.' " 
 
 The Countess here exhibits the weakness of a self-educated 
 intelligence. She does not comprehend the joys of scholar- 
 ship in her employment of Latinisms. It will be pardoned to 
 her by those who perceive the profound piece of feminine dis- 
 cernment which precedes it. 
 
 " I do think I shall now have courage to stay out the pic- 
 nic," she continues. " I really do not think all is known. 
 Very little can be known, or I am sure I could not feel as I 
 
 do. It would burn me up. George Up does not dare ; 
 
 and his most beautiful lady-love had far better not. Mr. 
 Forth may repent his whispers. But, Oh ! what Evan may 
 do ! Rose is almost detestable. Manners, my dear ? Totally 
 deficient ! 
 
 '* An ally has just come. Evan's good fortune is most 
 miraculous. His low friend turns out to be a young Fortu- 
 natus ; very original, sparkling, and in my hands to be made 
 much of. I do think he will — for he is most zealous — he 
 will counteract that hateful Mr. Forth, who may soon have 
 work enough. Mr. Raikes (Evan's friend) met a mad captain 
 in Fallowfield ! Dear Mr. Raikes is ready to say anything ; 
 not from love of falsehood, but because he is ready to think it. 
 He has confessed to me that Evan told him ! Louisa de Saldar 
 has changed his opinion, and much impressed this eccentric 
 young gentleman. Do you know any young j^irl who wants 
 a fortune, and would be grateful ? 
 
 " Dearest ! I have decided on the pic-nic. Let your con- 
 Rcience be clear, and Providence cannot be against you. So I 
 feel. Mr. Parsley spoke very beautifully to that purpose last 
 Sunday in the morning service. A little too much through 
 his nose, perhaps ; but the poor young man's nose is a great 
 organ, and we will not cast it in his teeth more than nature 
 has done. I said so to my diplomatist, who was amused. Oh !
 
 TOM COGGLESBY'S PROPOSITION. 323 
 
 M'hat principle we women require in the thorny walk of life. 
 1 can show you a letter when we meet that will astonish 
 humdrum. Not so diplomatic as the WTiter thought ! Mrs. 
 Melville (sweet woman!) must continue to practise civility; 
 for a woman who is a wife, my dear, in verity she lives in a 
 glass house, and let her fling no stones. ' Let him who is 
 without sin.' How beautiful that Christian sentiment! I 
 hope I shall be pardoned, but it always seems to me that what 
 we have to endure is infinitely worse than any other suffering, 
 for you find no comfort for the children of T s in Scrip- 
 ture, nor any defence of their dreadful position. Robbers, 
 thieves, Magdalens ! but, no I the unfortunate ofi'spring of 
 that class are not even mentioned : at least, in my most dili- 
 gent perusal of the Scriptures, I never lighted upon any 
 remote allusion; and we know the Jews did wear clothing. 
 Outcasts, verily ! And Evan could go, and write— but I have 
 no patience with him. He is the blind tool of his mother, 
 and anybody's puppet." 
 
 The letter concludes, with horrid emphasis : 
 " The Madre in Beckley ! Has sent for Evan from a low 
 public-house ! I have intercepted the messenger. Evan 
 closeted with Sir Eranks. Andrew's horrible old brother 
 with Lady Jocelyn. The whole house, from garret to kitchen, 
 full of whispers ! " 
 
 A prayer to Providence closes the communication. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIIL 
 
 TOM COGGLESBT S PK0P0SITI0]Sr. 
 
 The appearance of a curricle and a donkey-cart within the 
 gates of Beckley Court, produced a sensation among the men 
 of the lower halls, and a couple of them rushed out, with the 
 left calf considerably in advance, to defend the house from 
 violation. Towards the curricle they directed what should 
 have been a bow, but was a nod. Their joint attention was 
 
 T 2
 
 324 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 then given to the donkey-cart, in which old Tom Cogglesby 
 sat alone, bunchy in figure, bunched in face, his shrewd grey 
 eyes twinkling under the bush of his eyebrows. 
 
 " Oy, sir — you ! my man ! " exclaimed the tallest of the 
 pair, resolutely. " This won't do. Don't you know driving 
 this 'ere sort of conveyance slap along the gravel 'ere, up to 
 the pillars 'ere, 's unparliamentary ? Can't be allowed. Now, 
 right about ! " 
 
 This address, accompanied by a commanding elevation of 
 the dexter hand, seemed to excite Mr. John Eaikes far more 
 than Old Tom. He alighted from his perch in haste, and. was 
 running up to the stalwart figure, crying, " Fellow ! fellow ! " 
 when, as you tell a dog to lie down. Old Tom called out, 
 "Be quiet, sir!" and Mr. John Eaikes halted with prompt 
 military obedience. 
 
 The sight of the curricle acting satellite to the donkey-cart 
 quite staggered the two footmen. 
 
 "Are you lords ? " sang out Old Tom. 
 
 A burst of laughter from the friends of Mr. John Eaikes, 
 in the curricle, helped to make the powdered gentlemen aware 
 of a sarcasm, and one with no little dignity replied that they 
 were not lords. 
 
 "Are ye judges?" 
 
 "We are not." 
 
 " Oh ! Then come and hold my donkey." 
 
 Great irresolution was displayed at the injunction, but 
 having consulted the face of Mr. Eaikes, one fellow, evidently 
 half overcome by what was put upon him, with the steps of 
 Adam into exile, descended to the gravel, and laid his hand 
 on the donkey's head. 
 
 "Hold hard!" cried Old Tom. "Whisper in his ear. 
 He'll know your language." 
 
 " May I have the felicity of assisting you to terra firma? " 
 interposed Mr. Eaikes, with the bow of deferential fami- 
 liarity. 
 
 " Done that once too often," returned Old Tom, jumping 
 out. " There. What's the fee ? " 
 
 Mr. Eaikes begged that all minor arrangements with the 
 menials should be left to him.
 
 TOM COGGLESBY'S PROPOSITION. 325 
 
 "What's the fee?" Old Tom repeated. "There's a fee 
 for everything in this world. If you ain't lords or judges, 
 you ought to be paid for dressing like 'em. Come, there's a 
 crown for you that ain't afraid of a live donkey; and there's 
 a sixpenny bit for you that are— to keep up your courage; 
 and when he's dead you shall have.his skin — to shave by." 
 
 "Excellent! Most admirable!" shouted Mr. Raikes. 
 " Franco, you heard ? Fred ? " 
 
 "First-rate!" was the unanimous response from the cur- 
 ricle : nor was Old Tom altogether displeased at the applause 
 of his audience. The receiver of the sixpenny bit gratified 
 his contempt by spinning it in the air, and remarking to his 
 comrade, as it fell : " Do for the beggars." 
 
 "Must be a lord!" interjected Old Tom. "Ain't that 
 their style?" 
 
 Mr. Raikes laughed mildly. " When I was in Town, sir, 
 on my late fortunate expedition, I happened to be driving 
 round St. Paul's. Rather a crush. Some particular service 
 going on. In my desire to study humanity in all its aspects, 
 I preferred to acquiesce in the blockade of carriages and avoid 
 manslaughter. My optics were attracted by several effulgent 
 men that stood and made a blaze at the lofty doors of the 
 cathedral. Nor mine alone. A dame with an umbrella — she 
 likewise did regard the pageant show. ' Sir,' says she to me. 
 I leaned over to her, affably — as usual. ' Sir, can you be so 
 good as to tell me the names of they noblemen there ? ' Atro- 
 cious grammar is common among the people, but a gentleman 
 passes it by : it being his duty to understand what is meant 
 by the poor creatures. You laugh, sir ! You agree with me. 
 Consequently I looked about me for the representatives of the 
 country's pride. ' What great lords are they ? ' she repeats. 
 I followed the level of her umbrella, and felt — astonishment 
 was uppermost. Should I rebuke her ? Should I enlighten 
 her ? Never, I said to myself : but one, a wretch, a brute, 
 had not these scruples. ' Them 'ere chaps, ma'am ? ' says he. 
 ' Lords, ma'am ? why. Lor' bless you, they're the Lord 
 Mayor's footmen ! ' The illusion of her life was scattered ! I 
 mention the circumstance to show you, sir, that the mistake 
 is perfectly possible. Of course, the old dame in question, if
 
 326 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 a woman of a great mind, will argue that supposing Lord 
 Mayor's footmen to be plumed like estridges — gorgeous as the 
 sun at Midsummer — what must Lord Mayors be, and semper- 
 annual Lords, and so on to the pinnacle ? — the footmen the 
 basis of the aristocratic edifice. Then again she may say, 
 Can nature excel that magnificent achievement I behold, and 
 build upon it ? She may decide that nature cannot. Hence 
 democratic leanings in her soul ! For me, I know and can 
 manage them. Thomas ! hand in my card. Mr. John Fevers- 
 ham Raikes." 
 
 Mr. Raikes spoke peremptorily ; but a wink and the 
 glimpse of his comic face exhibited his manner of manage- 
 ment. 
 
 "And tell my lady, Tom Cogglesby's come," added the 
 owner of that name. " Be off." 
 
 " M.P. let us hope we may shortly append," pursued Jack. 
 " Methinks 'tis a purer ambition to have a tail than a handle 
 to one's name. Sir John F. Eaikes were well. John F. 
 Raikes, M.P., is to the patriotic intelligence better, I have 
 heard also — into mine ear it hath been whispered — that of 
 yon tail a handle may be made." 
 
 " If your gab was paid by the yard, you'd have a good 
 many thousands a year," Old Tom interrupted this mono- 
 logue. 
 
 " You flatter me," returned Jack, sincerely. " The phy- 
 siologists have said that I possess an eloquent feature or so. 
 Ciceronic lips." 
 
 "How was it you got away from the menagerie — eh?" 
 said Old Tom. 
 
 " By the assistance of the jolliest old bear in the world, I 
 believe," Mr. Raikes replied. "In life I ride on A^'s broad 
 back : he to posterity shall ride on mine." 
 
 "Ha! that'll do," said Old Tom, for whom Mr. Raikes 
 was too strong. 
 
 " May we come to an understanding before we part, sir ? " 
 continued the latter. 
 
 " Go about your business," cried Old Tom; and was at that 
 moment informed that her ladyship would see him, and 
 begged Mr. Raikes to make himself at home.
 
 TOM COGGLESBY'S PROPOSITION. 327 
 
 "Artful ! " mused Mr. Raikes, as Old Tom walked away : 
 "Artful! but I have thee by a clue, my royal Henry. Thy 
 very secret soul I can dissect. Strange fits of generosity are 
 thine beneath a rough exterior ; and for me, I'd swear thee 
 client of the Messrs. Grist." 
 
 Mentally delivering this, Mr. Eaikes made his way towards 
 a comj^any he perceived on the lawn. His friend Harrington 
 chanced to be closeted with Sir Franks : the Countess de 
 Saldar was in her chamber : no one was present whom he 
 knew but Miss Jocelyn, who welcomed him very cordially, 
 and with one glance of her eyes set the mercurial youth 
 thinking whether they ought to come to explanations before 
 or after dinner ; and of the advantages to be derived from 
 a good matrimonial connection, by a young member of our 
 Parliament. He soon let Miss Jocelyn see that he had wit, 
 affording her deep indications of a poetic soul; and he as much 
 as told her, that, though merry by nature, he was quite 
 capable of the melancholy fascinating to her sex, and might 
 shortly be seen under that aspect. He got on remarkably 
 well till Laxley joined them ; and then, despite an excessive 
 condescension on his part, the old Fallowfield sore was rubbed, 
 and in a brisk passage of arms between them, Mr. John Raikes 
 was compelled to be the victor — to have the last word and the 
 best, and to win the laughter of Rose, which was as much to 
 him as a confession of love from that young lady. Then 
 Juliana came out, and Mr. Raikes made apologies to her, 
 rejecting her in the light of a spouse at the first perusal of her 
 face. Then issued forth the swimming Countess de Saldar, 
 and the mutual courtesies between her and Mr. Raikes were 
 elaborate, prolonged, and smacking prodigiously of Louis 
 Quatorze. But Rose suffered laughter to be seen struggling 
 round her mouth ; and the Countess dismayed Mr. Raikes by 
 telling him he would be perfect by- and -by, and so dislocating 
 her fair self from the ridicule she opened to him : a stroke 
 which gave him sharp twinges of uneasiness, and an immense 
 respect for her. The Countess subsequently withdrew him, 
 and walked him up and down, and taught him many new 
 things, and so affected him by her graces, that Mr. John 
 Raikes had a passing attack of infidelity to the heiress.
 
 828 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 While this lull occurs, we will follow Tom Cogglesby, as 
 he chooses to be called. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn rose on his entering the library, and walking 
 up to hira, encountered him with a kindly full face. 
 
 " So I see you at last, Tom ?" she said, without releasing 
 his hand ; and Old Tom mounted patches of red in his wrinkled 
 cheeks, and blinked, and betrayed a singular antiquated bash- 
 fulness, which ended, after a mumble of " Yes, there he 
 was, and he hoped her ladyship was well," by his seeking 
 refuge in a chair, where he sat hard, and fixed his attention 
 on the leg of a table. 
 
 "Well, Tom, do you find much change in me?" she was 
 woman enough to continue. 
 
 He was obliged to look up. 
 
 " Can't say I do, my lady." 
 
 " Don't you see the grey hairs, Tom ? " 
 
 " Better than a wig," rejoined he. 
 
 Was it true that her ladyship had behaved rather ill to Old 
 Tom in her youth? Excellent women have been naughty 
 girls, and young Beauties will have their train. It is also 
 very possible that Old Tom had presumed upon trifles, and 
 found it difiicult to forgive her his own folly. 
 
 "Preferable to a wig? Well, I would rather see you 
 with your natural thatch. You're bent, too. You look as if 
 you had kept away from Beckley a little too long." 
 
 " Told you, my lady, I should come when your daughter 
 was marriageable." 
 
 " Oho ! that's it ? I thought it was the Election." 
 
 " Election be — hem ! — beg pardon, my lady." 
 
 " Swear, Tom, if it relieves you. I think it bad to check 
 an oath or a sneeze." 
 
 "I'm come to see you on business, my lady, or I shouldn't 
 have troubled you." 
 
 " Malice ? " 
 
 " You'U see I don't bear any, my lady." 
 
 "Ah ! if you had only sworn roundly twenty -five years ago, 
 what a much younger man you would have been ! and a brave 
 capital old friend whom I should not have missed aU that time." 
 
 " Come!" cried Old Tom, varying his eyes rapidly between
 
 TOM COGGLESBY'S PROPOSITION. 329 
 
 her ladyship's face and the floor, " you acknowledge I had 
 reason to." 
 
 "Mais, cela va sans dire." 
 
 " Cobblers' sons ain't scholars, my lady." 
 
 "And are not all in the habit of throwing their fathers in 
 our teeth, I hope! " 
 
 Old Tom wriggled in his chair. " "Well, my lady, I'm not 
 going to make a fool of myself at my time o' life. I*[eedn't be 
 alarmed now. You've got the bell-rope handy and a husband 
 on the premises." 
 
 Lady Jocelyn smiled, stood up, and went to him. " I like 
 an honest fist," she said, taking his. " "We're not going to be 
 doubtful friends, and we won't snap and snarl. That's for 
 people who're independent of wigs, Tom. I find, for my 
 part, that a little grey on the top of my head cools the temper 
 amazingly. I used to be rather hot once." 
 
 "You could be peppery, my lady." 
 
 " Now I'm cool, Tom, and so must you be ; or, if you 
 fight, it must be in my cause, as you did when you thrashed 
 that saucy young carter. Do you remember ? " 
 
 "If you'll sit ye down, my lady, I'll just tell j'ou what 
 I'm come for," said Old Tom, who plainly showed that he did 
 remember, and was alarmingly softened by her ladyship's 
 retention of the incident. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn returned to her place. 
 
 " You've got a marriageable daughter, my lady?" 
 
 " I suppose we may call her so," said Lady Jocelyn, with 
 a composed glance at the ceiling. 
 
 " 'Gaged to be married to any young chap ? " 
 
 " You must put the question to her, Tom." 
 
 " Ha ! I don't want to see her." 
 
 At this Lady Jocelyn looked slightly relieved. Old Tom 
 continued. 
 
 " Happen to have got a little money — not so much as many 
 a lord's got, I dare say ; such as 'tis, there 'tis. Young fel- 
 low I know wants a wife, and he shall have best part of it. 
 "Will that suit ye, my lady ? " 
 
 Lady Jocelyn folded her hands. "Certainly; I'^-e no 
 objection. "What it has to do with me I can't perceive."
 
 330 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 "Ahem ! " went Old Tom. " It won't hurt your daughter 
 to be married now, will it ? " 
 
 "Oh! my daughter is the destined bride of your 'young 
 fellow,' " said Lady Jocelyn. " Is that how it's to be ? " 
 
 " She " — Old Tom cleared his throat — " she won't marry a 
 lord, my lady; but she — 'hem — if she don't mind that — '11 
 have a deuced sight more hard cash than many lord's son 'd 
 give her, and a young fellow for a husband, sound in wind 
 and limb, good bone and muscle, speaks grammar and two or 
 three languages, and — " 
 
 " Stop ! " cried Lady Jocelyn. " I hope this is not a prize 
 young man ? If he belongs, at his age, to the tmco guid, I 
 refuse to take him for a son-in-law, and I think Kose will, 
 too." 
 
 Old Tom burst out vehemently : " He's a damned good 
 young fellow, though he isn't a lord." 
 
 " WeU," said Lady Jocelyn, " I've no doubt you're in ear- 
 nest, Tom. It's curious, for this morning Rose has come to 
 me and given me the first chapter of a botheration, which she 
 declares is to end in the common rash experiment. What is 
 your ' young fellow's ' name ? Who is he ? What is he ? " 
 
 " Won't take my guarantee, my lady ? " 
 
 " Kose — if she marries — must have a name, you know ? " 
 
 Old Tom hit his knee. "Then there's a pill for ye to 
 swallow, for he ain't the son of a lord." 
 
 " That's swallowed, Tom. What is he ? " 
 
 " He's the son of a tradesman, then, my lady." And Old 
 Tom watched her to note the effect he had produced. 
 
 " More's the pity," was all she remarked. 
 
 "And he'll have his thousand a year to start with; and 
 he's a tailor, my lady." 
 
 Her ladyship opened her eyes. 
 
 "Harrington's his name, my lady. Don't know whether 
 you ever heard of it." 
 
 Lady Jocelyn flung herself back in her chair. " The 
 queerest thing I ever met ! " said she. 
 
 " Thousand a year to start with," Old Tom went on, " and 
 if she marries — I mean if he marries her, I'll settle a thousand 
 per ann. on the first baby — boy or gal."
 
 TOM COGGLESBY'S PROPOSITION. 331 
 
 " Hum ! Is this gross collusion, Mr. Tom ? " Lady Jocelyn 
 inquired. 
 
 " "What does that mean ? " 
 
 " Have you spoken of this before to any one ? " 
 
 " I haven't, my lady. Decided on it this morning. Hem ! 
 you got a son, too. He's fond of a young gal, or he ought to 
 be. I'll settle him when I've settled the daughter." 
 
 "Harry is strongly attached to a dozen, I believe," said his 
 mother. " Well, Tom, we'll think of it. I may as well tell 
 you : Eose has just been here to inform me that this Mr. 
 Harrington has turned her head, and that she has given her 
 troth, and all that sort of thing. I believe such was not to be 
 laid to my charge in my day." 
 
 "You were open enough, my lady," said Old Tom. " She's 
 fond of the young fellow ? She'll have a pill to swallow ! 
 poor young woman ! " 
 
 Old Tom visibly chuckled. Lady Jocelyn had a momentary 
 temptation to lead him out, but she did not like the subject 
 well enough to play with it. 
 
 " Apparently Rose has swallowed it," she said. 
 
 "Goose, shears, cabbage, and all!" muttered Old Tom. 
 "Got a stomach ! — she knows he's a tailor, then? The young 
 fellow told her ? He hasn't been playing the lord to her ? " 
 
 "As far as he's concerned, I think he has been tolerably 
 honest, Tom, for a man and a lover." 
 
 " And told her he was born and bound a tailor ? " 
 
 " Rose certainly heard it from him." 
 
 Slapping his knee. Old Tom cried : " Bravo ! " For though 
 one part of his nature was disappointed, and the best part 
 of his plot disarranged, he liked Evan's proceeding and felt 
 warm at what seemed to him Rose's scorn of rank. 
 
 " She must be a good gal, my lady. She couldn't 'a got it 
 from t'other side. Got it from you. Not that you " 
 
 " No," said Lady Jocelyn, apprehending him. "I'm 
 afraid I have noEepublican virtues. I'm afraid I should 
 have rejected the pill. Don't be angry with me," for Old 
 Tom looked sour again; "I like birth and position, and 
 worldly advantages, and, notwithstanding Rose's pledge of 
 the instrument she calls her heart, and in spite of your offer,
 
 332 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 I shall, I tell you honestly, counsel her to have nothing to do 
 with " 
 
 "Anything less than lords," Old Tom struck in. " Very 
 well. Are ye going to lock her up, my lady ? " 
 
 " No. Nor shall I whip her with rods." 
 
 " Leave her free to her choice ? " 
 
 " She will have my advice. That I shall give her. And I 
 shall take care that before she makes a step she shall know 
 exactly what it leads to. Her father, of course, will exercise 
 his judgment." (Lady Jocelyu said this to uphold the honour 
 of Sir Franks, knowing at the same time perfectly well that 
 he would be wheedled by Eose.) " I confess I like this Mr. 
 Harrington. But it's a great misfortune for him to have had 
 a notorious father. A tailor should certainly avoid fame, and 
 this young man will have to carry his father on his back. 
 He'U never throw the great Mel off." 
 
 Tom Cogglesby listened, and was really astonished at her 
 ladyship's calm reception of his proposal. 
 
 " Shameful of him ! shameful!" he muttered perversely: 
 for it would have made Old Tom desolate to have had to 
 change his opinion of her ladyship after cherishing it, and 
 consoling himself with it, five-and-twenty years. Fearing the 
 approach of softness, he prepared to take his leave. 
 
 " Now — your servant, my lady. I stick to my word, mind : 
 and if your people here are willing, I — I've got a candidate 
 up for Fall' field — I'll knock him down, and you shall sneak 
 in your Tory. Servant, my lady." 
 
 Old Tom rose to go. Lady Jocelyn took his hand cordially, 
 though she could not help smiling at the humility of the 
 cobbler's son in his manner of speaking of the Tory can- 
 didate. 
 
 " Won't you stop with us a few days ? " 
 
 "I'd rather not, I thank ye." 
 
 " Won't you see Rose ? " 
 
 " I won't. Not till she's married." 
 
 "Well, Tom, we're friends now? " 
 
 " Not aware I've ever done you any harm, my lady." 
 
 " Look me in the face." 
 
 The trial was hard for him. Though she had been fiTC-and-
 
 TOM COGGLESBY'S PROPOSITION. 333 
 
 twenty years a wife, she was still very handsome : but he was 
 not going to be melted, and when the perverse old fellow 
 obeyed her, it was with an aspect of resolute disgust that 
 would have made any other woman indignant. Lady Jocelyn 
 laughed. 
 
 " Why, Tom, your brother Andrew's here, and makes him- 
 self comfortable with us. "We rode by Brook's farm the other 
 day. Do you remember Copping's pond — how we dragged it 
 that night ? What days we had ! " 
 
 Old Tom tugged once or twice at his imprisoned fist, while 
 these youthful frolics of his too stupid self and the wild and 
 beautiful Miss Bonner were being recalled. 
 
 "/ remember!" he said savagely, and reaching the door 
 hurled out : "And I remember the Bull-dogs, too ! — servant, 
 my lady." With which he efi'ected a retreat, to avoid a 
 ringing laugh he heard in his ears. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn had not laughed. She had done no more 
 than look and smile kindly on the old boy. It was at the 
 Bull-dogs, a fall of water on the borders of the park, that 
 Tom Cogglesby, then a hearty young man, had been guilty of 
 his folly : had mistaken her frank friendliness for a return of 
 his passion, and his stubborn vanity still attributed her rejec- 
 tion of his suit to the fact of his descent from a cobbler, or, as 
 he put it, to her infernal worship of rank. 
 
 " Poor old Tom ! " said her ladyship, when alone. " He's 
 rough at the rind, but sound at the core." She had no idea 
 of the long revenge Old Tom cherished, and had just shaped 
 into a plot to be equal with her for the Bull-dogs I
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT. 
 
 Money was a strong point with the Elbume brood. The 
 Jocelyns very properly respected blood ; but being, as Harry, 
 their youngest representative, termed them, poor as rats, 
 they were justified in considering it a marketable stuff; and 
 when they married they married for money. The Hon. Miss 
 Jocelyn had espoused a manufacturer, who failed in his con- 
 tract, and deserved his death. The diplomatist, Melville, had 
 not stepped aside from the family traditions in his alliance 
 with Miss Black, the daughter of a bold bankrupt, educated 
 in affluence ; and if he touched nothing but 5000?. and some 
 very pretty ringlets, that was not his fault. Sir Franks, too, 
 mixed his pure stream with gold. As yet, however, the gold 
 had done little more than shine on him; and, belonging 
 to expectancy, it might be thought unsubstantial. Beckley 
 Court was in the hands of Mrs. Bonner, who, with the highest 
 sense of duty towards her only living child, was the last to 
 appreciate Lady Jocelyn's entire absence of demonstrative 
 affection, and severely reprobated her daughter's philosophic 
 handling of certain serious subjects. Sir Pranks, no doubt, 
 came better off than the others; her ladyship brought him 
 twenty thousand pounds, and Harry had ten in the past tense, 
 and Rose ten in the future ; but living, as he had done, a 
 score of years anticipating the demise of an incurable invalid, 
 he, though an excellent husband and father, could scarcely be 
 taught to imagine that the Jocelyn object of his bargain was 
 attained. He had the semblance of wealth, without the per- 
 sonal glow which absolute possession brings. It was his habit 
 to call himself a poor man, and it was his dream that Eose 
 should marry a rich one. Harry was hopeless. He had been 
 his Grandmother's pet up to the years of adolescence: he was 
 getting too old for any prospect of a military career : he had 
 no turn for diplomacy, no taste for any of the walks open to
 
 PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT. 335 
 
 blood and birth, and was in headlong disgrace with the foun- 
 tain of goodness at Beckley Court, where he was still kept in 
 the tacit understanding that, should Juliana inherit the place, 
 he must be at hand to marry her instantly, after the fashion 
 of the Jocelyns. They were an injured family ; for what they 
 gave was good, and the commercial world had not behaved 
 honourably to them, 
 
 Now Ferdinand Laxley was just the match for Rose. Bom 
 to a title and fine estate, he was evidently fond of her, and 
 there had been a gentle hope in the bosom of Sir Franks that 
 the family fatality would cease, and that Rose would marry 
 both money and blood. 
 
 From this happy delusion poor Sir Franks was awakened 
 to hear that his daughter had plighted herself to the son of a 
 tradesman : that, as the climax to their evil fate, she who had 
 some blood and some money of her own — the only Jocelyn 
 who had ever united the two — was desirous of wasting herself 
 on one who had neither. The idea was so utterly opposed to 
 the principles Sir Franks had been trained in, that his intel- 
 lect could not grasp it. He listened to his sister, Mrs. Shorne : 
 he listened to his wife ; he agreed with all they said, though 
 what they said was widely diverse : he consented to see and 
 speak to Evan, and he did so, and was much the most dis- 
 tressed. For Sir Franks liked many things in life, and hated 
 one thing alone — which was ' bother.' A smooth world was 
 his delight. Rose knew this, and her instruction to Evan 
 was : "You cannot give me up — you will go, but you cannot 
 give me up while I am faithful to you : tell him that." She 
 knew that to impress this fact at once on the mind of Sir 
 Franks would be a great gain ; for in his detestation of bother 
 he would soon grow reconciled to things monstrous : and 
 hearing the same on both sides, the matter would assume an 
 inevitable shape to him. Mr. Second Fiddle had no difficulty 
 in declaring the eternity of his sentiments ; but he toned them 
 with a despair Rose did not contemplate, and added also his 
 readiness to repair, in any way possible, the evil done. He 
 spoke of his birth and position. Sir Franks, with a gentle- 
 manly delicacy natural to all lovers of a smooth world, begged 
 him to see the main and the insurmountable objection. Birth
 
 336 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 was to be desired, of course, and position, and so forth : but 
 without money how can two young people marry ? Evan's 
 heart melted at this generous way of putting it. He said he 
 saw it, he had no hope : he would go and be forgotten : and 
 begged that for any annoyance his visit might have caused Sir 
 Franks and Lady Jocelyn, they would pardon him. Sir 
 Franks shook him by the hand, and the interview ended in 
 an animated dialogue on the condition of the knees of Black 
 Lymport, and on horseflesh in Portugal and Spain, 
 
 Following Evan, Rose went to her father and gave him a 
 good hour's excitement, after which the worthy gentleman 
 hurried for consolatioji to Lady Jocelyn, whom he found 
 reading a book of French memoirs, in her usual attitude, with 
 her feet stretched out, as if she made a footstool of trouble. 
 Her ladyship read him a piquant story, and Sir Franks capped 
 it with another from memory ; whereupon her ladyship held 
 him wrong in one turn of the story, and Sir Franks rose to 
 get the volume to verify, and while he was turning over the 
 leaves. Lady Jocelyn told him incidentally of old Tom Cog- 
 glesby's visit and proposition. Sir Franks found the passage, 
 and that her ladyship was right, which it did not move her 
 countenance to hear. 
 
 "Ah ! " said he, finding it no use to pretend there was no 
 bother in the world, " here's a pretty pickle ! Eose says she 
 will have that fellow." 
 
 "Hum! it's a nuisance," replied her ladyship. "And 
 if she keeps her mind a couple of years, it will be a 
 wonder." 
 
 " Very bad for her this sort of thing — talked about," mut- 
 tered Sir Franks. " Ferdinand was just the man." 
 
 " Well, yes ; I suppose it's her mistake to think brains an 
 absolute requisite," said Lady Jocelyn, opening her book 
 again, and scanning down a column. 
 
 Sir Franks, being imitative, adopted a similar refuge, 
 and the talk between them was varied by quotations and 
 choice bits from the authors they had recourse to. Both 
 leaned back in their chairs, and spoke with their eyes on 
 their books. 
 
 "Julia's going to write to her mother," said he.
 
 PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT. 337 
 
 "Very filial and proper," said she. 
 
 " There'll be a horrible hubbub, you know, Emily." 
 
 "Most probably. I shall get the blame; cela se con- 
 9oit." 
 
 " Young Harrington goes the day after to-morrow. Thought 
 it better not to pack him off in a hurry." 
 
 "And just before the pic-nic; no, certainly. I suppose it 
 would look odd." 
 
 " How are we to get rid of the Countess ? " 
 
 " Eh ? This Bautru is amusing, Franks ; but he's nothing 
 to Yandy. Homme incomparable ! On the whole I find 
 Menage rather dull. The Countess ? what an accomplished 
 liar that woman is ! She seems to have stepped out of 
 Tallemant's Gallery. Concerning the Countess, I suppose 
 you had better apply to Melville." 
 
 "Where the deuce did this young Harrington get his 
 breeding from ? " 
 
 " He comes of a notable sire." 
 
 "Yes, but there's no sign of the snob in him." 
 
 " And I exonerate him from the charge of ' adventuring ' 
 after Rose. George Uploft tells me — I had him in just now 
 — that the mother is a woman of mark and strong principle. 
 She has probably corrected the too luxuriant nature of Mel in 
 her offspring. That is to say in this one. Pour les autres, 
 je ne dis pas. "Well, the young man will go; and if Rose 
 chooses to become a monument of constancy, we can do 
 nothing. I shall give my advice ; but as she has not deceived 
 me, and she is a reasonable being, I shan't interfere. Putting 
 the case at the worst, they will not want money. I have no 
 doubt Tom Cogglesby means what he says, and will do it. So 
 there we will leave the matter till we hear from Elburne 
 House." 
 
 Sir Franks groaned at the thought. 
 
 " How much does he offer to settle on them? " he asked. 
 
 " A thousand a year on the marriage, and the same amount 
 to the first child. I daresay the end would be that they would 
 get all." 
 
 Sir Franks nodded, and remained with one eye-brow pitiably 
 elevated above the level of the other.
 
 858 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 "Anything but a tailor! " he exclaimed presently, half to 
 himself. 
 
 " There is a prejudice against that craft, isn't there ? " her 
 ladyship acquiesced. "B^ranger — let me see — your favourite 
 Frenchman, Pranks, wasn't it his father? — no, his grand- 
 father. ' Mon pauvre et humble grandpere,' I think, was a 
 tailor. Hum ! the degrees of the thing, I confess, don't 
 affect me. One trade I imagine to be no worse than 
 another." 
 
 "Ferdinand's allowance is about a thousand," said Sir 
 Franks, meditatively. 
 
 "And won't be a farthing more till he comes to the title," 
 added her ladyship. 
 
 *' "Well," resumed Sir Franks, " it's a horrible bother ! " 
 
 His wife philosophically agreed with him, and the subject 
 was dropped. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn felt with her husband, more than she chose 
 to let him know, and Sir Franks could have burst into 
 anathemas against fate and circumstances, more than his love 
 of a smooth world permitted. He, however, was subdued by 
 her calmness ; and she, with ten times the weight of brain, 
 was manoeuvred by the wonderful dash of General Rose Joce- 
 lyn, For her ladyship, thinking, "I shall get the blame of 
 all this," rather sided insensibly with the offenders against 
 those who condemned them jointly; and seeing that Rose had 
 been scrupulously honest and straightforward in a very deli- 
 cate matter, this lady was so constituted that she could not 
 but applaud her daughter in her heart. A worldly woman 
 would have acted, if she had not thought, differently ; but her 
 ladyship was not a worldly woman. Evan's bearing and 
 character had, during his residence at Beckley Court, become 
 so thoroughly accepted as those of a gentleman, and one of 
 their own rank, that, after an allusion to the origin of his 
 breeding, not a word more was said by either of them on 
 that topic. Besides, Rose had dignified him by her decided 
 conduct. 
 
 By the time poor Sir Franks had read himself into tran- 
 quillity, Mrs. Shorne, who knew him well, and was deter- 
 mined that he should not enter upon his usual negociations
 
 PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT. 339 
 
 •vrith an unpleasantness, that is to say, to forget it, joined 
 them in the library, bringing with her Sir John Loring and 
 Hamilton Jocelyn, Her first measure was to compel Sir 
 Pranks to put down his book. Lady Jocelyn subsequently 
 had to do the same. 
 
 "Well, what have you done, Franks?" said Mrs. 
 Shorne. 
 
 " Done ? " answered the poor gentleman. " "What is there 
 to be done? I've spoken to young Harrington." 
 
 " Spoken to him! He deserves horsewhipping ! Have you 
 not told him to quit the house instantly ? " 
 
 Lady Jocelyn came to her husband's aid : " It wouldn't 
 do, I think, to kick him out. In the first place, he hasn't 
 deserved it." 
 
 " Not deserved it, Emily ! — the commonest of low, vile, 
 adventuring tradesmen ! " 
 
 "In the second place," pursued her ladyship, "it's not 
 advisable to do anything that will make Rose enter into the 
 young woman's sublimities. It's better not to let a lunatic 
 see that you think him stark mad, and the same holds with 
 young women afiiicted with the love-mania. The sound of 
 sense, even if they can't understand it, flatters them so as to 
 keep them within bounds. Otherwise you drive them into 
 excesses best avoided." 
 
 " Eeally, Emily," said Mrs. Shorne, "you speak almost, 
 one would say, as an advocate of such unions." 
 
 "You must know perfectly well that I entirely condemn 
 them," replied her ladyship, who had once, and once only, 
 delivered her opinion of the nuptials of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Shorne. 
 
 In self-defence, and to show the total difference between 
 the cases, Mrs. Shorne interjected: "An utterly penniless 
 young adventurer ! " 
 
 " Oh, no; there's money," remarked Sir Franks. 
 "Money is there ? " quoth Hamilton, respectfully. 
 "And there's wit," added Sir John, " if he has half his 
 sister's talent." 
 
 " Astonishing woman ! " Hamilton chimed in ; adding, with 
 a shrug, " But, egad ! " 
 
 £ 2
 
 340 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 "Well, we don't want him to resemble his sister," said 
 Lady Jocelyn. " I acknowledge she's amusing." 
 
 " Amusing, Emily ! " Mrs. Shorne never encountered her 
 sister-in-law's calmness without indignation. " I could not 
 rest in the house with such a person, knowing her what she 
 is. A vile adventui'ess, as I firmly believe. What does she 
 do all day with your mother? Depend upon it, you will 
 repent her visit in more ways than one." 
 
 "A prophecy ? " asked Lady Jocelyn, smiling. 
 
 On the grounds of common sense, on the grounds of pro- 
 priety, and consideration of what was due to themselves, all 
 agreed to condemn the notion of Eose casting herself away on 
 Evan. Lady Jocelyn agreed with Mrs. Shorne ; Sir Franks 
 with his brother, and Sir John. But as to what they were to 
 do, they were divided. Lady Jocelyn said she should not 
 prevent Rose from writing to Evan, if she had the wish 
 to do so. 
 
 "Folly must come out," said her ladyship. "It's a com- 
 bustible material. I won't have her health injured. She 
 shall go into the world more. She will be presented at Court, 
 and if it's necessary to give her a dose or two to counteract 
 her vanity, I don't object. This will wear ofi", or, si c'est 
 veritablement une grande passion, eh bien ! we must take 
 what Providence sends us." 
 
 "And which we might have prevented if we had con- 
 descended to listen to the plainest worldly wisdom," added 
 Mrs. Shorne. 
 
 " Yes," said Lady Jocelyn, equably, " you know, you and 
 I, Julia, argue from two distinct points. Giiis may be shut 
 up, as you propose. I don't think nature intended to have 
 them the obverse of men. I'm sure their mothers never 
 designed that they should run away with footmen, riding- 
 masters, chance curates, as they occasionally do, and wouldn't 
 if they had points of comparison. My opinion is that Prospero 
 was just saved by the Prince of Naples being wrecked on his 
 island, from a shocking mis-alliance between his daughter and 
 the son of Sycorax. I see it clearly. Poetry conceals the 
 extreme probability, but from what I know of my sex, I 
 should have no hesitation in turning prophet also, as to that."
 
 PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT. 341 
 
 "What could Mrs. Shorne do? Mrs. Melville, when she 
 arrived to take part in the conference, which gradually 
 swelled to a family one, was equally unable to make Lady 
 Jocelyn perceive that her plan of bringing up Rose was, in 
 the present result of it, other than unlucky, 
 
 Now the two Generals — Rose Jocelyn and the Countess de 
 Saldar — had brought matters to this pass ; and from the two 
 tactical extremes : the former by openness and dash ; the 
 latter by subtlety, and her own interpretations of the means 
 extended to her by Providence. I will not be so bold as to 
 state which of the two I think right. Good and evil work 
 together in this world. If the Countess had not woven the 
 tangle, and gained Evan time. Rose would never have seen his 
 blood, — never have had her spirit hurried out of all shows, 
 and forms, and habits of thought, up to the gates of existence, 
 as it were, where she took him simply as God created him and 
 her, and clave to him. Again, had Rose been secret, when 
 this turn in her nature came, she would have forfeited the 
 strange power she received from it, and which endowed her 
 with decision to say what was in her heart, and stamp it 
 lastingly there. The two Generals were quite antagonistic, but 
 no two, in perfect ignorance of one another's proceedings, 
 ever worked so harmoniously toward the main result. The 
 Countess was the skilful engineer : Rose the General of 
 cavalry. And it did really seem that, with Tom Cogglesby 
 and his thousands in reserve, the victory was about to be 
 gained. The male Jocelyns, an easy race, decided that, if the 
 worst came to the worst, and Rose proved a wonder, there 
 was money, which was something. 
 
 But social prejudice was about to claim its champion. 
 Hitherto there had been no General on the opposite side. 
 Love, aided by the Countess, had engaged an inert mass. The 
 champion was dicovered in the person of the provincial Don 
 Juan, Mr. Harry Jocelyn. Harry had gone on a mysterious 
 business of his own to London. He returned with a green 
 box under his arm, which, five minutes after his arrival, was 
 entrusted to Conning, in company with a genial present for 
 herself, of a kind not perhaps so fit for exhibition ; at least 
 they both thought so, for it was given in the shades. Harry
 
 842 EVAN HARRIKGTON". 
 
 then went to pay his respects to his mother, who received him 
 with her customary ironical tolerance. His father, to whom 
 he was an incarnation of bother, likewise nodded to him and 
 gave him a finger. Duty done, Harry looked round him for 
 pleasure, and observed nothing but glum faces. Even the face 
 of Mr. John Raikes was heavy. He had been hovering about 
 the Duke and Miss Current for an hour, hoping the Countess 
 would come and give him a promised introduction. The 
 Countess stirred not from above, and Jack drifted from group 
 to group on the lawn, and grew conscious that wherever he 
 went he brought silence with him. His isolation made him 
 humble, and when Harry shook his hand, and said he remem- 
 bered Fallowfield and the fun there, Mr. Raikes thanked him, 
 and in a small speech, in which he contrived to introduce the 
 curricle, remarked that the Hampshire air suited his genius, 
 and that the friendship of Mr. Harry Jocelyn would be agree- 
 able to him. 
 
 "Where's the tailor?" cried Harry, laughing. 
 
 "Tailor!" Jack exclaimed, reprovingly, "oh! now, my 
 dear fellow, you must positively drop that. Harrington's 
 sisters ! consider ! superb women ! unmatched for style ! No, 
 no; Harrington's father was an officer. I know it. A 
 distant relative of Sir Abraham Harrington, the proud baronet 
 of Torquay, who refused to notice them. Why ? Because of 
 the handle to his name. One could understand a man of 
 genius ! — a member of Parliament ! but proud of a baronetcy ! 
 His conduct was hideous. The Countess herself informed 
 me." 
 
 "Ha! ha!" laughed Harry, "I was only joking. I 
 shall see you again." And Mr. Raikes was left to fresh 
 meditation. 
 
 Harry made his way to join his friend Ferdinand, and fur- 
 nished him with the latest London news not likely to appear 
 in the papers. Laxley was distant and unamused. From the 
 fact, too, that Harry was known to be the Countess's slave, 
 his presence jjroduced the same effect in the different circles 
 about the grounds, as did that of Mr. John Raikes. Harry 
 began to yawn and wish very ardently for his sweet lady. 
 She, however, had too fine an instinct to descend.
 
 PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT. 343 
 
 An hour before dinner, Juliana sent him a message that 
 she desired to see him. 
 
 "Jove! I hope that girl's not going to be blowing hot 
 again," sighed the conqueror. 
 
 He had nothing to fear fi'om Juliana. The moment they 
 were alone she asked him, "Have you heard of it ? " 
 
 Harry shook his head and shrugged. 
 
 " They haven't told you ? Rose has engaged herself to Mr. 
 Harrington, a tradesman, a tailor ! " 
 
 "Pooh! have you got hold of that story?" said Harry. 
 " But I'm sorry for old Ferdy. He was fond of Eosey, 
 Here's another bother ! " 
 
 " You don't believe me, Harry ? " 
 
 Harry was mentally debating whether, in this new posture 
 of affairs, his friend Ferdinand would press his claim for 
 certain moneys lent. 
 
 " Oh, I beUeve you," he said. " Harrington has the knack 
 with you women. Why, you made eyes at him. It was a 
 toss-up between you and Eosey once." 
 
 Juliana let this accusation pass. 
 
 "He is a tradesman. He has a shop in Lymport, I teK 
 you, Harry, and his name on it. And he came here on pur- 
 pose to catch Eose. And now he has caught her, he tells 
 her. And his mother is now at one of the village inns, 
 waiting to see him. Go to Mr. George Uploft ; he knows the 
 family. Yes, the Countess has turned your head, of course ; 
 but she has schemed and schemed, and told such stories — God 
 forgive her ! " — 
 
 The girl had to veil her eyes in a spasm of angry 
 weeping. 
 
 " Oh, come 1 Juley ! " murmured her killing cousin. Harry 
 boasted an extraordinary weakness at the sight of feminine 
 tears. "I say! Juley! you know if you begin crying I'm 
 done for, and it isn't fair." 
 
 He dropped his arm on her waist to console her, and 
 generously declared to her that he always had been very fond 
 of her. These scenes were not foreign to the youth. Her fits 
 of crying, from which she would burst in a frenzy of con- 
 tempt at him, had made Harry say stronger things ; and the
 
 344 ' EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 assurances of profound affection uttered in a most languid 
 voice will sting the hearts of women. 
 
 Harry still went on with his declarations, heating them 
 rapidly, so as to bring on himself the usual outburst and 
 check. She was longer in coming to it this time, and he 
 had a horrid fear, that instead of dismissing him fiercely, and 
 so annulling his words, the strange little person was going 
 to be soft and hold him to them. There were her tears, 
 however, which she could not stop. 
 
 "Well, then, Juley, look. I do, upon my honour, yes — 
 there, don't cry any more — I do love you." 
 
 Harry held his breath in awful suspense. Juliana quietly 
 disengaged her waist, and looking at him, said, "Poor Harry ! 
 You need not lie any more to please me." 
 
 Such was Harry's astonishment, that he exclaimed, "It 
 isn't a lie ! I say, I do love you." And for an instant he 
 thought and hoped that he did love her. 
 
 "Well, then, Harry, I don't love you," said Juliana; 
 which at once revealed to our friend that he had been utterly 
 mistaken in his own emotions. Nevertheless, his vanity was 
 hurt when he saw she was sincere, and he listened to her, a 
 moody being. This may account for his excessive wrath at 
 Evan Harrington after Juliana had given him proofs of the 
 truth of what she said. 
 
 But the Countess was Harrington's sister ! The image of 
 the Countess swam before him. Was it possible? Harry 
 went about asking everybody he met. The initiated were 
 discreet; those who had the whispers were open. A bare 
 truth is not so convincing as one that discretion confirms. 
 Harry found the detestable news perfectly true. 
 
 " Stop it by all means if you can," said his father. 
 
 " Yes, try a fall with Eose," said his mother. 
 
 " And I must sit down to dinner to-day with a confounded 
 
 fellow, the son of a tailor, who's had the impudence to 
 
 make love to my sister ! " cried Harry. " I'm determined to 
 kick him out of the house ! — half." 
 
 " To what is the modification of your determination due ? " 
 Lady Jocelyn inquired, probably suspecting the sweet and 
 gracious person who divided Harry's mind.
 
 PKELUDE TO AK ENGAGEMENT. 315 
 
 Her ladyship treated her children as she did mankind 
 generally, from her intellectual eminence. Harry was com- 
 pelled to fly from her cruel shafts. He found comfort with 
 his Aunt Shorne, as the wicked called that honourable ladj'. 
 Mrs. Shorne as much as told Harry that he was the head of 
 the house, and must take up the matter summarily. It was 
 expected of him. Now was the time for him to show his 
 manhood. 
 
 Harry could think of but one way to do that. 
 
 " Yes, and if I do — all up with the old lady," he said, and 
 had to exj^lain that hisGrandmama Bonner would never leave 
 a penny to a fellow who had fought a duel. 
 
 "A duel! " said Mrs. Shorne. "No, there are other ways. 
 Insist upon his renouncing her. And Rose — treat her with 
 a high hand, as becomes you. Your mother is incorrigible, 
 and as for your father, one knows him of old. This devolves 
 upon you. Our family honour is in your hands, Harry." 
 
 Considering Han-y's reputation, the family honour must 
 have got low. Harry, of course, was not disposed to think so. 
 He discovered a great deal of unused pride within him, for 
 which he had hitherto not found an agreeable vent. He 
 vowed to his aunt that he would not suffer the disgrace, and 
 while still that blandishing olive-hued visage swam before his 
 eyes, he pledged his word to Mrs. Shorne that he would come 
 to an understanding with Harrington that night. 
 
 " Quietly," said she. "No scandal, pray." 
 
 " Oh, never mind how I do it," returned Harry, manfully. 
 " How am I to do it, then?" he added, suddenly remember- 
 ing his debt to Evan. 
 
 Mrs. Shorne instructed him how to do it quietly, and 
 without fear of scandal. The miserable champion replied 
 that it was very well for her to tell him to say this and that, 
 but — and she thought him demented — he must, previous to 
 addi'essing Harrington in those terms, have money. 
 
 " Money ! " echoed the lady. " Money ! " 
 
 "Yes, money! " he iterated doggedly, and she learnt that 
 he had borrowed a sum of Harrington, and the amount of the 
 Bum. 
 
 It was a disastrous plight, for Mrs. Shorne was penniless.
 
 346 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 She cited Perdinand Laxley as a likely lender. 
 
 "Oh, I'm deep with him already," said Harry, in apparent 
 dejection. 
 
 " How dreadful are these everlasting borrowings of yours ! " 
 exclaimed his aunt, unaware of a trifling incongruity in her 
 sentiments. " You must speak to him without — pay him 
 by-and-by. We must scrape the money together. I will 
 write to your grandfiither." 
 
 "Yes; speak to him! How can I when I owe him? 1 
 can't tell a fellow he's a blackguard when I owe him, and I 
 can't speak any other way. I ain't a diplomatist. Dashed if 
 I know what to do ! " 
 
 "Juliana," murmured his aunt. 
 
 " Can't ask her, you know." 
 
 Mrs. Shorne combatted the one prominent reason for the 
 objection : but there were two. Harry believed that he had 
 exhausted Juliana's treasury. Eeproaching him further for 
 his wastefulness, Mrs. Shorne promised him the money should 
 be got, by hook or by crook, next day. 
 
 "And you will speak to this Mr. Harrington to-night, 
 Harry ? No allusion to the loan till you return it. Appeal 
 to his sense of honour." 
 
 The dinner-bell assembled the inmates of the house. Evan 
 was not among them. He had gone, as the Countess said 
 aloud, on a diplomatic mission to Fallowfield, with Andrew 
 Cogglesby. The truth being that he had finally taken Andrew 
 into his confidence concerning the letter, the annuity, and 
 the bond. Upon which occasion Andrew had burst into a 
 laugh, and said he could lay his hand on the writer of the 
 letter. 
 
 " Trust Old Tom for plots, Yan ! He'll blow you up in a 
 twinkling. Cunning old dog ! He pretends to be hard — he's 
 as soft as I am, if it wasn't for his crotchets. "We'll hand 
 him back the cash, and that's ended. And — eh? what a 
 dear girl she is ! Not that I'm astonished. My Harry might 
 have married a lord — sit at top of any table in the land ! 
 And you're as good as any man. That's my opinion. But I 
 say she's a wonderful girl to see it." 
 
 Chattering thus, Andrew drove with the dear boy into
 
 PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT. 847 
 
 Fallowfield. Evan was still in his dream. To him the 
 generous love and valiant openness of Eose, though they were 
 matched and mated in his own bosom, seemed scarcely human. 
 Almost as -uoble to him were the gentlemanly plain-speaking 
 of Sir Franks and Lady Jocelyn's kind common-sense. But 
 the more he esteemed them, the more unbounded and mira- 
 culous appeared the prospect of his calling their daughter by 
 the sacred name, and kneeling with her at their feet. Did the 
 dear heavens have that in store for him ? The horizon edges 
 were dimly lighted. 
 
 Harry looked about under his eyelids for Evan, trying at 
 the same time to compose himself for the martyrdom he had 
 to endure in sitting at table with the presumptuous fellow. 
 The Countess signalled him to come within the presence. 
 As he was crossing the room, Eose entered, and moved to 
 meet him, with: "Ah, Harry! back again! Glad to see 
 you." 
 
 Harry gave her a blunt nod, to which she was inatten- 
 tive. 
 
 " What ! " whispered the Countess, after he pressed the 
 tips of her fingers. " Have you brought back the grocer? " 
 
 Now this was hard to stand. Harry could forgive her 
 her birth, and pass it utterly by if she chose to fall in love 
 with him ; but to hear the grocer mentioned, when he knew 
 of the tailor, was a little too much, and what Harry felt his 
 ingenuous countenance was accustomed to exhibit. The 
 Countess saw it. She turned her head from him to the diplo- 
 matist, and he had to remain like a sentinel at her feet. He 
 did not want to be thanked for the green box : still he 
 thought she might have favoured him with one of her much- 
 embracing smiles. 
 
 In the evening, after wine, when he was warm, and had 
 almost forgotten the insult to his family and himself, their 
 representative, the Countess snubbed him. It was unwise on 
 her part, but she had the ghastly thought that facts were 
 oozing out, and were already half known. She was therefore 
 sensitive tenfold to appearances ; savage if one failed to keep 
 up her lie to her, and was guilty of a shadow of difference of 
 behaviour. The pic-nic over, our General woiild evacuate
 
 348 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 Beckley Court, and shake the dust off her shoes, and leave 
 the harvest of what she had sown to Providence. Till then, 
 respect, and the honours of war ! So the Countess snubbed 
 him, and he being full of wine, fell into the hands of Juliana 
 who had witnessed the little scene. 
 
 " She has made a fool of others as well as of you," said 
 Juliana. 
 
 " How has she ? " he inquired. 
 
 "Never mind. Do you want to make her humble and 
 crouch to you ? " 
 
 "I want to see Harrington," said Harry. 
 
 "He will not return to-night from Fallowfield. He has 
 gone there to get Mr. Andrew Cogglesby's brother to do 
 something for him. You won't have such another chance 
 of humbling them both — both ! I told you his mother is at 
 an inn here. The Countess has sent Mr. Harrington to 
 Fallowfield to be out of the way, and she has told her mother 
 all sorts of falsehoods." 
 
 " How do you know all that ? " quoth Harry. " By 
 Jove, Juley ! talk about plotters ! No keeping anything from 
 you, ever ! " 
 
 "Never mind. The mother is here. She must be a 
 vulgar woman. Oh ! if you could manage, Harry, to get this 
 woman to come — you could do it so easily ! — while they are at 
 the pic-nic to-morrow. It would have the best effect on Hose. 
 She would then understand ! And the Countess ! " 
 
 " I could send the old woman a message ! " cried 
 Harry, rushing into the scheme, inspired by Juliana's 
 fiery eyes. " Send her a sort of message to say where 
 we all were." 
 
 " Let her know that her son is here, in some way," Juley 
 resumed. 
 
 "And, egad ! what an explosion ! " pursued Harry. " But, 
 suppose — " 
 
 " No one shall know, if you leave it to me — if you do just 
 as I teU you, Harry. You won't be treated as you were this 
 evening after that, if you bring down her pride. And, Harry, 
 I hear you want money — I can give you some." 
 
 "You're a perfect trump, Juley! " exclaimed her enthu-
 
 PRELUDE TO AN ENGAGEMENT. 349 
 
 siastic cousin. " But, no ; I can't take it. I must kiss you, 
 though. 
 
 He put a kiss upon her cheek. Once his kisses had left a 
 red waxen stamp ; she was callous to these compliments 
 now. 
 
 ""Will you do what I advise you to-morrow?" she 
 asked. 
 
 After a slight hesitation, during which the olive-hued 
 visage flitted faintly in the distances of his brain, Harry 
 said : 
 
 " It'll do Rose good, and make Harrington cut. Yes ! I 
 declare I will." 
 
 Then they parted. Juliana went to her bed-room, and 
 flung herself upon the bed hysterically. As the tears came 
 thick and fast, she jumped up to lock the door, for this 
 outrageous habit of crying had made her contemptible in the 
 eyes of Lady Jocelyn, and an object of pity to Eose. Some 
 excellent and noble natures cannot tolerate disease, and are 
 mystified by its ebullitions. It was sad to see the slight thin 
 frame grasped by those wan hands to contain the violence of 
 the frenzy that possessed her! the pale, hapless face rigid 
 above the torment in her bosom ! She had prayed to be loved 
 like other girls, and her readiness to give her heart in return 
 had made her a by-word in the house. She went to the 
 window and leaned out on the casement, looking towards 
 Fallowfield over the downs, weeping bitterly, with a hard 
 shut mouth. One brilliant star hung above the ridge, and 
 danced on her tears. 
 
 " Will he forgive me ? " she murmured. " Oh, my God ! 
 I wish we were dead together ! " 
 
 Her weeping ceased, and she closed the window, and un- 
 dressed as far away from the miiTor as she could get ; but its 
 force was too much for her, and drew her to it. Some unde- 
 fined hope had sprung in her suddenly. With nervous slow 
 steps she approached the glass, and first brushing back the 
 masses of black hair from her brow, looked as for some new 
 revelation. Long and anxiously she perused her features : the 
 wide bony forehead; the eyes deep-set and rounded with the 
 scarlet of recent tears, the thin nose — sharp as the dead ; the
 
 350 EVAN HARRINGTOK 
 
 weak irritable mouth and sunken cheeks. She gazed like a 
 spirit disconnected from what she saw. Presently a sort 
 of forlorn negative was indicated by the motion of her 
 head. 
 
 " I can pardon him," she said, and sighed. " How could 
 he love such a face ! " 
 
 I doubt if she really thought so, seeing that she did not 
 pardon him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL -DOGS. — PAET I. 
 
 At the South-western extremity of the park, with a view 
 extending over wide meadows and troubled mill-waters, 
 yellow barn-roofs and weather-gray old farm-walls, two 
 grassy mounds threw their slopes to the margin of the 
 stream. Here the bull-dogs held revel. The hollow between 
 the slopes was crowned by a bending birch, which rose three- 
 stemmed from the root, and hung a noiseless green shower 
 over the basin of green it shadowed. Beneath it the inter- 
 minable growl sounded pleasantly ; softly shot the sparkle of 
 the twisting water, and you might dream things half-fulfiUed. 
 Knots of fern were about, but the tops of the mounds were 
 firm grass, evidently well rolled, and with an eye to airy 
 feet. Olympus one eminence was called, Parnassus the other. 
 Olympus a little overlooked Parnassus, but Parnassus was 
 broader and altogether better adapted for the games of the 
 Muses. Eound the edges of both there was a well-trimmed 
 bush of laurel, obscuring only the feet of the dancers from 
 the observing gods. For on Olympus the elders reclined. 
 Great eflforts had occasionally been made to dispossess and 
 unseat them, and their security depended mainly on a hump 
 in the middle of the mound which defied the dance. 
 
 "Watteau-like groups were already couched in the shade. 
 There were ladies of all sorts : town-bred and country-bred : 
 
 I
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. 351 
 
 farmers' daughters and daiightors of peers : for this pic-nic, 
 as Lady Jocclyn, disgusting the Countess, would call it, was 
 in reality a fete chauipetre, given annually, to which the fair 
 offspring of the superior tenants were invited — the brothers 
 and fathers coming to fetch them in the evening. It struck 
 the eye of the Countess de Saldar that Olympus would bo a 
 fitting throne for her, and a point whence her shafts might 
 fly without fear of a return. Like another illustrious General 
 at Salamanca, she directed a detachment to take possession of 
 the height. Courtly Sir John Loring ran up at once, and 
 gave the diplomatist an opportunity to thank her flatteringly 
 for gaining them two minutes to themselves. Sir John waved 
 his handkerchief in triumph, welcoming them under an 
 awning where carpets and cushions were spread, and whence 
 the Countess could eye the field. She was dressed ravish - 
 ingly ; slightly in a foreign style, the bodice being peaked at 
 the waist, as was then the Portuguese persuasion. The neck, 
 too, was deliciously veiled with fine lace — and thoroughly 
 veiled, for it was a feature the Countess did not care to 
 expose to the vulgar daylight. Ofi" her gentle shoulders, as 
 it were some fringe of cloud blown by the breeze this sweet 
 lady opened her bosom to, curled a lovely black lace scarf : 
 not Caroline's. If she laughed, the tinge of mourning lent 
 her laughter new charms. If she sighed, the exuberant array 
 of her apparel bade the spectator be of good cheer. Was she 
 witty, men surrendered reason, and adored her. Only when 
 she entered the majestic mood, and assumed the languors of 
 greatness, and recited musky anecdotes of her intimacy with 
 it, only then did mankind, as represented at Beckley Court, 
 open an internal eye and reflect that it was wonderful in a 
 tailor's daughter. And she felt that mankind did so reflect. 
 Her instincts did not deceive her. She knew not how much 
 was known ; in the depths of her heart she kept the struggling 
 fear that possibly all might be known ; and succeeding in this, 
 she said to herself that probably nothing was known after all. 
 George Uploft, Miss Carrington, and Eose, were the three she 
 abhorred. Partly to be out of their way, and to be out of the 
 way of chance shots (for she had heard names of people 
 coming that reminded her of Dubbins' s, where, in past days,
 
 352 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 there had been on one awful occasion a terrific discovery 
 made), the Countess selected Olympus for her station. It 
 was her last day, and she determined to be happy. Doubt- 
 less, she was making a retreat, but have not illustrious Gene- 
 rals snatched victory from their pursuers ? Fair, then, sweet, 
 and full of grace, the Countess moved. As the restless shift- 
 ing of colours to her motions was the constant interchange 
 of her semi-sorrowful manner and ready archness. Sir 
 John almost capered to please her, and the diplomatist in 
 talking to her forgot his diplomacy and the craft of his 
 tongue. 
 
 It was the last day also of Caroline and the Duke. The 
 Countess clung to Caroline and the Duke more than to Evan 
 and Rose. She could see the first couple walking under an 
 avenue of limes, and near them Mr. John Raikes, as if in 
 ambush. Twice they passed him, and twice he doffed his hat 
 and did homage. 
 
 "A most singular creature!" exclaimed the Countess. 
 " It is my constant marvel where my brother discovered such 
 a curiosity. Do notice him." 
 
 "That man? Raikes?" said the diplomatist. "Do you 
 know he is our rival ? Harry wanted an excuse for another 
 bottle last night, and proposed the Member for Fallowfield. 
 Up got this Mr, Raikes and returned thanks." 
 
 " Yes ? " the Countess negligently interjected in a way she 
 had caught from Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 " Cogglesby's nominee, apparently." 
 
 "I know it all," said the Countess. "We need have no 
 apprehension. He is docile. My brother-in-law's brother, 
 you see, is most eccentric. We can manage him best through 
 this Mr. Raikes, for a personal application would be ruin. 
 He quite detests our family, and indeed all the aristo- 
 cracy." 
 
 Melville's mouth pursed, and he looked very grave. 
 
 Sir John remarked : "He seems like a monkey just turned 
 into a man." 
 
 "And doubtful about the tail," added the Countess. 
 
 The image was tolerably correct, but other causes were at 
 the bottom of the air worn by Mr. John Raikes. The Coun-
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. 353 
 
 tess had obtained an invitation for him, with instructions that 
 he should come early, and he had followed them so implicitly 
 that the ciu'ricle was flinging dust on the hedges between 
 Fallowfield and Beckley but an hour or two after the chariot 
 of Apollo had mounted the heavens, and Mr. Eaikes presented 
 himself at the breakfeast table. Fortunately for him the 
 Countess was there. After the repast she introduced him to 
 the Duke : and he bowed to the Duke, and the Duke bowed 
 to him : and now, to instance the peculiar justness in the 
 mind of Mr. Haikes, he, though he worshipped a coronet and 
 would gladly have recalled the feudal times to a corrupt land, 
 could not help thinking that his bow had beaten the Duke's 
 and was better. He would rather not have thought so, for it 
 upset his preconceptions and threatened a revolution in his 
 ideas. For this reason he followed the Duke, and tried, if 
 possible, to correct, or at least chasten the impressions he had 
 of possessing a glaring advantage over the nobleman. The 
 Duke's second bow did not, Mr. Eaikes sadly judged, retrieve 
 the character of his first: his final bow was a mere nod. 
 "Well!" Mr. Eaikes reflected, "if this is your Duke, why, 
 egad ! for figure and style my friend Harrington beats him 
 hollow." And Mr. Eaikes thought he knew who could con- 
 duct a conversation with superior dignity and neatness. The 
 torchlight of a delusion was extinguished in him, but he did 
 not wander long in that gloomy cavernous darkness of the 
 disenchanted, as many of us do, and as Evan had done, when 
 after a week at Beckley Court he began to examine of what 
 stuff his brilliant father, the great Mel, was composed. On 
 the contrary, as the light of the Duke dwindled, Mr. Eaikes 
 gained in lustre. "In fact," he said, "there's nothing but 
 the title wanting." He was by this time on a level with the 
 Duke. 
 
 Olympus had been held in possession by the Countess about 
 half an hour, when Lady Jocelyn mounted it, quite un- 
 conscious that she was scaling a fortified point. The Coun- 
 tess herself fired off' the first gun at her. 
 
 " It has been so extremely delightful up alone here. Lady 
 Jocelyn : to look at everybody below ! I hope many will not 
 intrude on us ! " 
 
 AA
 
 354 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 " None but the dowagers who have breath to get up," 
 replied her ladyship, panting. " By the way, Countess, you 
 hardly belong to us yet. You dance ? " 
 
 "Indeed, I do not." 
 
 "Oh, then you are in your right place. A dowager is a 
 woman who doesn't dance : and her male attendant is — what 
 is he ? We will call him a fogy." 
 
 Lady Jocelyn directed a smile at Melville and Sir John, 
 who both protested that it was an honour to be the Countess's 
 
 fogy- 
 Rose now joined them, with Laxley morally dragged in her 
 
 wake. 
 
 "Another dowager and fogy!" cried the Countess, musi- 
 cally. " Do you not dance, my child ? " 
 
 " Not till the music strikes up," rejoined Eose. " I sup- 
 pose we shall have to eat first." 
 
 " That is the Hamlet of the pic-nic play, I believe," said 
 her mother. 
 
 "Of course you dance, don't you. Countess?" Rose in- 
 quired, for the sake of amiable conversation. 
 
 The Countess's head signified : "Oh, no! quite out of the 
 question : " she held up a little bit of her mournful draperies, 
 adding : " Besides, you, dear child, know your company, and 
 can select ; / do not, and cannot do so. I \inderstand we 
 have a most varied assembly ! " 
 
 Rose shut her eyes, and then looked at her mother. Lady 
 Jocelyn' 8 face was undisturbed; but while her eyes were stUl 
 upon the Countess, she drew her head gently back, imper- 
 ceptibly. If anything, she was admiring the lady ; but Rose 
 could be no placid philosophic spectator of what was to her a 
 horrible assumption and hypocrisy. For the sake of him she 
 loved, she had swallowed a nauseous cup bravely. The Coun- 
 tess was too much for her. She felt sick to think of being 
 allied to this person. She had a shuddering desire to run into 
 the ranks of the world, and hide her head from multitudinous 
 hootings. With a pang of envy she saw her friend Jenny 
 walking by the side of William Harvey, happy, untried, un- 
 offending : full of hope, and without any bitter draughts to 
 swallow I
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. 355 
 
 Aunt Bel now came tripping up gaily. 
 
 " Take the alternative, douairiere or demoiselle ? " cried 
 Lady Jocelyn. "We must have a sharp distinction, or 
 Olympus will be mobbed." 
 
 "Entre les deux, s'il vous plait," responded Aunt Bel. 
 "Rose, hurry down, and leaven the mass. I see ten girls in 
 a bunch. It's shocking. Ferdinand, pray disperse yourself. 
 Why is it, Emily, that we are always in excess at pic-nics ? 
 Is man dying out ? " 
 
 " From what I can see," remarked Lady Jocelyn," Harry 
 will be lost to his species unless some one quickly relieves 
 him. He's already half eaten up by the Conley girls. Coun- 
 tess, isn't it your duty to rescue him ? " 
 
 The Countess bowed, and murmured to Sir John : 
 
 " A dismissal ! " 
 
 "I fear my fascinations. Lady Jocelyn, may not compete 
 with those fresh young persons." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ' fresh young persons,' " laughed Sir John : for 
 the ladies in question were romping boisterously with Mr. 
 Harry. 
 
 The Countess inquired for the names and condition of the 
 ladies, and was told that they sprang from Farmer Conley, a 
 well-to-do son of the soil, who farmed about a couple of 
 thousand acres between Fallowfield and Beckley, and bore a 
 good reputation at the county bank. 
 
 "But I do think," obsei'ved the Countess, "it must indeed 
 be pernicious for any youth to associate with that class of 
 woman. A deterioration of manners ! " 
 
 Rose looked at her mother again. She thought : " Those 
 girls would scorn to marry a tradesman's son ! " 
 
 The feeling grew in Rose that the Countess lowered and 
 degraded her. Her mother's calm contemplation of the lady 
 was more distressing than if she had expressed the contempt 
 Rose was certain, according to her young ideas. Lady Jocelyn 
 must hold. 
 
 Now the Countess had been considering that she would like 
 to have a word or two with Mr. Harry, and kissing her 
 fingers to the occupants of Olympus, and fixing her fancy on 
 the diverse thoughts of the ladies and gentlemen, deduced 
 
 AA 2
 
 356 EVAN HARRINGTOK 
 
 from a rapturous or critical contemplation of her figure fi:om 
 behind, she descended the slope. 
 
 Was it going to be a happy day ? The well-imagined opi- 
 nions of the gentleman on her attire and style, made her lean 
 to the affirmative ; but E,ose's demure behaviour, and some- 
 thing — something would come across her hopes. She had, as 
 she now said to herself, stopped for the pic-nic, mainly to 
 give Caroline a last opportunity of binding the Duke to visit 
 the Cogglesby saloons in London. Let Caroline cleverly con- 
 trive this, as she might, without any compromise, and the 
 stay at Beckley Co art would be a great gain. Yes, Caroline 
 was still with the Duke ; thty were talking earnestly. The 
 Countess breathed a short appeal to Providence that Caroline 
 might not prove a fool. Overnight she had said to Caroline : 
 " Do not be so English. Can one not enjoy friendship with 
 a nobleman without wounding one's conscience or breaking 
 with the world ? My dear, the Duke visiting you, you cow 
 that infamous Strike of yours. He will be utterly obsequious ! 
 I am not telling you to pass the line. The contrary. But we 
 continentals have our grievous reputation because we dare to 
 meet as intellectual beings, and defy the imputation that 
 ladies and gentlemen are no better than animals." 
 
 It sounded very lofty to Caroline, who, accepting its since- 
 rity, replied : 
 
 "I cannot do things by halves. I cannot life a life of 
 deceit. A life of misery — not deceit." '. 
 
 Whereupon, pitying her poor English nature, the Countess 
 gave her advice, and this advice she now implored her fami- 
 liars to instruct or compel Caroline to follow. 
 
 The Countess's garment was plucked at. She beheld little 
 Dorothy Loring glancing up at her with the roguish timidity 
 of her years. 
 
 " May I come with you?" asked the little maid, and went 
 off into a prattle : "I spent that five shillings — I bought a 
 shilling's worth of sweet stuff, and nine penn'orth of twine, 
 and a shilling for small wax candles to light in my room 
 when I'm going to bed, because I like plenty of light by the 
 looking-glass always, and they do make the room so hot ! 
 My Jane declared she almost fainted, but I burnt them out !
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. 357 
 
 Then I only had very little left for a horse to mount my doll 
 on ; and I wasn't going to get a screw, so I went to Papa, 
 and he gave me five shillings. And, oh, do you know, Rose 
 can't bear me to be with you. Jealousy, I suppose, for 
 you're very agreeable. And, do you know, your Mama is 
 coming to-day ? I've got a Papa and no Mama, and you've 
 got a Mama and no Papa. Isn't it funny ? But I don't think 
 so much of it, as you're grown up. Oh, I'm quite sure she 
 is coming, because I heard Harry telling Juley she was, 
 and Juley said it would be so gratifying to you." 
 
 A bribe and a message relieved the Countess of Dorothy's 
 attendance on her. 
 
 What did this mean ? Were people so base as to be guilty 
 of hideous plots in this house ? Her mother coming ! The 
 Countess's blood turned deadly chill. Had it been her father 
 she would not have feared, but her mother was so vilely 
 plain of speech ; she never opened her mouth save to deliver 
 facts : which was to the Countess the sign of atrocious 
 vulgarity. 
 
 But her mother had written to say she would wait for Evan 
 in Pallowfield ! The Countess grasped at straws. Did Doro- 
 thy hear that? And if Harry and Juliana spoke of her 
 mother, what did that mean? That she was hunted, and 
 must stand at bay ! 
 
 " Oh, Papa ! Papa ! why did you marry a Dawley ? " she 
 exclaimed, plunging to what was, in her idea, the root of 
 the evil. 
 
 She had no time for outcries and lamentations. It dawned 
 on her that this was to be a day of battle. Where was 
 Harry? Still in the midst of the Conley throng, appa- 
 rently pooh-poohing something, to judge by the twist of his 
 mouth. 
 
 The Countess delicately signed for him to approach her. 
 The extreme delicacy of the signal was at least an excuse for 
 Harry to perceive nothing. It was renewed, and Harry burst 
 into a fit of laughter at some fun of one of the Conley girls. 
 The Countess passed on, and met Juliana pacing by herself 
 near the lower gates of the park. She wished only to see 
 how Juliana behaved. The girl looked perfectly trustful, as
 
 355 EVAN HARKINGTON. 
 
 much so as when the Countess was pouring in her ears the 
 tales of Evan's growing but bashful affection for her, 
 
 "He will soon be here," whispered the Countess. "Has 
 he told you he will come by this entrance ? " 
 
 " No," replied Juliana. 
 
 " You do not look well, sweet child." 
 
 " I was thinking that you did not, Countess ? " 
 
 " Oh, indeed, yes ! All our visitors have by this time 
 arrived, I presume ? " 
 
 " They come all day." 
 
 The Countess hastened away from one who, when roused, 
 could be almost as clever as herself, and again stood in me- 
 ditation near the joyful Harry. This time she did not signal 
 so discreetly. Harry could not but see it, and the Conley 
 girls accused him of cruelty to the beautiful dame, which 
 novel idea stung Harry with delight, and he held out to 
 indulge in it a little longer. His back was half turned, and 
 as he talked noisily, he could not observe the serene anrl 
 resolute march of the Countess toward him. The youth 
 gaped when he found his arm taken prisoner by the in- 
 sertion of a small deliciously-gloved and perfumed hana 
 through it. 
 
 " I must claim you for a few moments," said the Countess, 
 and took the startled Conley girls one and all in her beautiful 
 smile of excuse. 
 
 "Why do you compromise me thus, sir?" 
 
 These astounding words were spoken out of the hearing of 
 the Conley girls. 
 
 " Compromise you ! " muttered Harry. 
 
 Masterly was the skill with which the Countess contrived 
 to speak angrily and as an injured woman, while she wore 
 an indifferent social countenance. 
 
 "I repeat, compromise me. No, Mr. Harry Jocelyn, you 
 are not the jackanapes you try to make people think you : you 
 understand me." 
 
 The Countess might accuse him, but Harry never had the 
 ambition to make people think him that : his natural tendency 
 was the reverse : and he objected to the application of the 
 word jackanapes to himself, and was ready to contest the fact
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. 359 
 
 of people having that opinion at all. However, all he did 
 was to repeat : " Compromise ! " 
 
 " Is not open nnkindness to me compromising me ? " 
 
 " How ? " asked Harry. 
 
 ** "Would you dare to do it to a strange lady ? "Would you 
 have the impudence to attempt it with any woman here but 
 me ? No, I am innocent ; I know that ; it is my consolation ; 
 I have resisted you, but you by this cowardly behaviour place 
 me — and my reputation, which is more — at your mercy. 
 Noble behaviour, Mr. Harry Jocelyn ! I shall remember my 
 young English gentleman." 
 
 The view was totally new to Harry. 
 
 "I really had no idea of compromising you," he said. 
 " Upon my honour, I can't see how I did it now ! " 
 
 " Oblige me by walking less in the neighbourhood of those 
 fat-faced glaring farm-girls," the Countess spoke under her 
 breath ; '' and don't look as if you were being whipped. The 
 art of it is evident — you are but carrying on the game. — 
 Listen. If you permit yourself to exhibit an unkindness to 
 me, you show to any man who is a judge, and to every 
 woman, that there has been something between us. You 
 know my innocence — yes ! but you must punish me for having 
 resisted you thus long." 
 
 Harry was staggered. He swore he never had such an 
 idea, and was much too much of a man and a gentleman to 
 behave in that way. — And yet it seemed wonderfully clever! 
 And there was the Countess saying : 
 
 " Take your reward, Mr. Harry Jocelyn. You have suc- 
 ceeded ; I am your humble slave. I come to you and sue 
 for peace. To save my reputation I endanger myself. This 
 is generous of you." 
 
 "Am I such a clever fellow?" thought the ingenuous 
 young gentleman. " Deuced lucky with women : " he knew 
 that : still a fellow must be wonderfully, miraculously, clever 
 to be able to twist and spin about a woman in that way. He 
 did not object to conceive that he was the fellow to do it. 
 Besides, here was the Countess de Saldar — worth five hundred 
 of the Conley girls — almost at his feet ! 
 
 Mollified, he said : " Now, didn't you begin it? "
 
 360 EVAN HARRIFGTON". 
 
 "Evasion ! " was the answer. " It would be such plea- 
 sure to you to see a proud woman weep ! And if yesterday, 
 persecuted as I am, with dreadful falsehoods abroad respecting 
 me and mine, if yesterday I did seem cold to your great 
 merits, is it generous of you to take this revenge ? " 
 
 Harry began to scent the double meaning in her words. 
 She gave him no time to grow cool over it. She leaned, 
 half-abandoned, on his arm. Arts feminine and irresistible 
 encompassed him. It was a fatal mistake of Juliana's to 
 enlist Harry Jocelyn against the Countess de Saldar. He 
 engaged, still without any direct allusion to the real business, 
 to move heaven and earth to undo all that he had done ; and 
 the Countess engaged to do — what ? more than she intended 
 to fulfil. 
 
 Ten minutes later the Countess was alone with Caroline. 
 
 " Tie yourself to the Duke at the dinner," she said, in the 
 forcible phrase she could use when necessary. " Don't let 
 them scheme to separate you. Never mind looks — do it ! " 
 
 CaroKne, however, had her reasons for desiring to maintain 
 appearances. The Countess dashed at her hesitation. 
 
 "There is a plot to humiliate us in the most abominable 
 way. The whole family have sworn to make us blush publicly. 
 Publicly blush ! They have written to Mama to come and 
 speak out. Now will you attend to me, Caroline ? You do 
 not credit such atrocity ? I know it to be true." 
 
 "I never can believe that Eose would do such a thing," 
 said Caroline. "We can hardly have to endure more than 
 has befallen us already." 
 
 Her speech was pensive, as of one who had matter of her 
 own to ponder over. A swift illumination burst in the 
 Countess's mind. 
 
 " No ? Have you, dear, darling Carry ? not that I intend 
 that yoa should! but to-day the Duke would be such ineffable 
 support to us. May I deem you have not been too cruel 
 to-day ? You dear silly English creature, ' Duck,' I used to 
 call you when I was your little Louy. All is not yet lost, 
 but I will save you from the ignominy if I can. I will ! — 
 I will ! " 
 
 Caroline denied nothing — confirmed nothing, just as the
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. 361 
 
 Countess had stated nothing. Yet they understood one 
 another perfectly. "Women have a subtler language than 
 ours : the veil pertains to them morally as bodily, and they 
 see clearer through it. 
 
 The Countess had no time to lose. "Wrath was in her heart. 
 She did not lend all her thoughts to self-defence. 
 
 Without phrasing a word, or absolutely shaping a thought 
 in her head, she slanted across the sun to Mr. John Eaikes, 
 who had taken refreshnient, and in obedience to his instinct, 
 notwithstanding his enormous pretensions, had commenced a 
 few preliminary antics. 
 
 " Dear Mr. Kaikes!" she said, drawing him aside, "not 
 before dinner ! " 
 
 "I really can't contain the exuberant flow ! " returned that 
 gentleman. " My animal spirits always get the better of 
 me," he added confidentially. 
 
 " Suppose you devote your animal spirits to my service for 
 half an hour." 
 
 "Yours, Countess, from the os frontis to the chine! " was 
 the exuberant rejoinder. 
 
 The Countess made a wry mouth. 
 
 " Your curricle is in Beckley ? " 
 
 " Behold ! " said Jack. " Two juveniles, not half so blest 
 as I, do from the seat regard the festive scene o'er yon park- 
 palings. They are there, even Franko and Fred. I'm afraid 
 I promised to get them in at a later period of the day. "Which 
 sadly sore my conscience doth disturb ! But what is to bo 
 done about the curricle, my Countess ? " 
 
 " Mr. Eaikes," said the Countess, smiling on him fixedly, 
 "you are amusing; but in addressing me, you must be 
 precise, and above all things accurate. I am not your 
 Countess ! " 
 
 Mr. Eaikes bowed profoundly. " Oh, that I might say 
 my Queen ! ' " 
 
 The Countess replied : "A conviction of your lunacy would 
 prevent my taking offence, though I might wish you enclosed 
 and guarded." 
 
 "Without ary further exclamations, Mr. Eaikes acknow- 
 ledged 9 superior.
 
 362 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 "And, now, attend to me," said the Coimtess. " Listen : 
 You go yourself, or send your friends instantly to Fallowiield. 
 Bring with you that girl and her child. Stop : there is such 
 a person. Tell her she is to be spoken to about the prospects 
 of the poor infant. I leave that to your inventive genius. 
 Evan wishes her here. Bring her, and should you see the 
 mad captain who behaves so oddly, favour him with a ride. 
 He says he dreams his wife is here, and he will not reveal his 
 name ! Suppose it should be my own beloved husband ! I 
 am quite anxious, ha ! ha ! " 
 
 "That fortunate man is a foreignere ! " exclaimed Mr. 
 Raikes. 
 
 "Anglicized! — anglicized!" said the Countess. "Will 
 you do this ? You know how interested I am in the man. 
 If he is not my husband, some one ought to be ! " 
 
 " Capital ! " cried Jack. " Lord ! how that would tell on 
 the stage. * Some one ought to be ! ' " 
 
 "Away, and do my best," the Countess called to him with 
 the faint peep of a theatrical manner. 
 
 It captivated Mr. John Eaikes : "Yea, to the letter, 
 though I perish for't," he pronounced, departing, and 
 subsequently appending, "Nor yet the damned reason can 
 perceive." 
 
 The Countess saw him go up to the palings and hold a 
 communication with his friends Franko and Fred. One took 
 the whip, and after mutual flourishes, drove away from Mr. 
 Eaikes. 
 
 "Now!" mused the Countess, "if Captain Evremonde 
 should come ! " It would break up the pic-nic. Alas ! the 
 Countess had surrendered her humble hopes of a day's plea- 
 sure. But if her mother came as well, what a diversion that 
 would be ! If her mother came before the Captain, his 
 arrival would cover the retreat ; if the Captain preceded her, 
 she would not be noticed. Suppose her mother refrained 
 from coming ? In that case it was a pity, but the Jocelyns 
 had brought it on themselves. 
 
 This mapping out of consequences followed the Countess's 
 deeds, and did not inspire them. Her passions sharpened 
 her instincts, which produced her actions. The reflections
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. 363 
 
 ensued : as in nature the consequences were all seen subse- 
 quently ! Observe the difference between your male and 
 female Generals. 
 
 On reflection, too, the Countess praised herself for having 
 done all that could be done. She might have written to her 
 mother : but her absence would have been remarked : her 
 messenger might have been overhauled : and, lastly, Mrs. 
 Mel — "Gorgon of a mother!" the Countess cried out: for 
 Mrs. Mel was like a fate to her. She could remember only 
 two occasions in her whole life when she had been able 
 to manage her mother, and then by lying in such a way as to 
 distress Jier conscience severely. 
 
 " If Mama has conceived this idea of coming, nothing will 
 impede her. My prayers will infuriate her ! " said the Coun- 
 tess, and she was sure that she had acted both rightly and 
 with wisdom. 
 
 She put on her armour of smiles : she plunged into the 
 thick of the enemy. Since they would not allow her to taste 
 human happiness — she had asked but for the pic-nic ! a small 
 truce ! — since they denied her that, rather than let them 
 triumph by seeing her wretched, she took into her bosom the 
 joy of demons. She lured Mr. George Uploft away from Miss 
 Carrington, and spoke to him strange hints of matrimonial 
 disappointments, looking from time to time at that apprehen- 
 sive lady, doating on her terrors. And Mr. George seconded 
 her by his clouded face, for he was ashamed not to show that 
 he did not kno\\f Louisa Harrington in the Countess de Saldar, 
 and had not the' courage to declare that he did. The Countess 
 spoke familiarly, but without any hint of an ancient acquain- 
 tance between them. " What a post her husband's got ! " 
 thought Mr. George, not envying the Count. He was wrong : 
 she was an admirable ally. All over the field the Countess 
 went, watching for her mother, praying that if she did come, 
 Providence might prevent her from coming while they were 
 at dinner. How clearly Mrs. Shorne and Mrs. Melville saw 
 her vulgarity now ! By the new light of knctwledge, how 
 certain they were that they had seen her imgentle training iu 
 a dozen little instances. 
 
 " She is not well-bred, cela se voit," said Lady Jocelyn.
 
 364 EVAN HARRINGTOK 
 
 " Bred ! it's the stage ! How could such a person be 
 bred?" said Mrs. Shorne. 
 
 Accept in the Countess the heroine who is combatting 
 class-prejudices, and surely she is pre-eminently noteworthy. 
 True she fights only for her family, and is virtually the 
 champion of the opposing institution misplaced. That does 
 not matter : the fates may have done it purposely : by con- 
 quering she establishes a principle. A Duke adores her sister, 
 the daughter of the house her brother, and for herself she has 
 many protestations in honour of her charms : nor are they 
 empty ones. She can confound Mrs. Melville, if she pleases 
 to, by exposing an adorer to lose a friend. Issuing out of 
 Tailordom, she, a Countess, has done all this; and it were 
 enough to make her glow, did not little evils, and angers, 
 and spites, and alarms so frightfully beset her. 
 
 The sun of the pic-nic system is dinner. Hence philo- 
 sophers may deduce that the pic-nic is a British invention. 
 There is no doubt that we do not shine at the pic-nic until 
 we reflect the face of dinner. To this, then, all who were 
 not lovers began seriously to look forward, and the advance 
 of an excellent county band, specially hired to play during 
 the entertainment, gave many of the guests quite a new taste 
 for sweet music; and indeed we all enjoy a thing infinitely 
 more when we see its meaning. 
 
 About this time Evan entered the lower park-gates with 
 Andrew. The first object he encountered was Mr. John 
 Raikes in a state of great depression. He explained his 
 case : 
 
 "Just look at my frill! Now, upon my honour, you know, 
 I'm good-tempered ; I pass their bucolic habits, but this is 
 beyond bearing. I was near the palings there, and a fellow 
 calls out, * Hi ! will you help the lady over ? ' Holloa ! 
 thinks I, an adventure ! However, I advised him to take 
 her round to the gates. The beast burst out laughing. ' Now, 
 then,' says he, and I heard a scrambling at the pales, and up 
 came the head of a dog. ' Oh ! the dog first,' says I. ' Catch 
 by the ears,' says he, I did so. 'Pull,' says he. 'Gad, 
 pull indeed ! The beast gave a spring and came slap on my 
 chest, with his dirty wet muzzle in my neck ! I felt
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. 365 
 
 instantly it was the death of my frill, but gallant as you 
 know me, I still asked for the lady. ' If you will please, or 
 an it meet your favoiu', to extend your hand to me ! ' I con- 
 fess I did think it rather odd, the idea of a lady coming in 
 that way over the palings ! but my curst love of adventure 
 always blinds me. It always misleads my better sense, Har- 
 rington. Well, instead of a lady, I see a fellow — he may 
 have been a lineal descendant of Cedric the Saxon. * "Where's 
 the lady ? ' says I. ' Lady ? ' says he, and stares, and then 
 laughs : ' Lady ! why,' he jumps over, and points at his beast 
 of a dog, ' dont you know a bitch when you see one ? ' I 
 was in the most ferocious rage ! If he hadn't been a big 
 burly bully, down he'd have gone. * Why didn't you say 
 what it was?' I roared. 'Why,' says he, ' the word isn't 
 considered polite ! ' I gave him a cut there. I said, ' I 
 rejoice to be positively assured that you uphold the laws and 
 forms of civilization, sir.' My belief is he didn't feel it." 
 
 " The thrust sinned in its shrewdness," remarked Evan, 
 ending a laugh. 
 
 " Hem ! " went Mr. Raikes, more contentedly : " after all, 
 what are appearances to the man of wit and intellect ? Dress, 
 and women will approve you : but I assure you they much 
 prefer the man of wit in his slouched hat and stockings down. 
 I was introduced to the Duke, this morning. It is a curious 
 thing that the seduction of a Duchess has always been one of 
 my dreams." 
 
 At this Andrew Cogglesby fell into a fit of laughter. 
 
 " Tour servant," said Mr. Raikes, turning to him. And 
 then he muttered " Extraordinary likeness ! Good Heavens ! 
 PoAvers ! " 
 
 From a state of depression, Mr. Raikes changed into one of 
 bewilderment. Evan paid no attention to him, and answered 
 none of his hasty undertoned questions. Just then, as they 
 were on the skirts of the company, the band struck up a 
 lively tune, and quite unconsciously, the legs of Mr. John 
 Raikes, affected, it may be, by supernatural reminiscences, 
 loosely hornpiped. It was but a moment : he remembered 
 himself the next : but in that fatal moment eyes were on him. 
 He never recovered his dignity in Beckley Court.
 
 366 EVAN HARRINGTON-. 
 
 " "What is the joke against this poor fellow ? " asked Evan 
 of Andrew. 
 
 " Never mind, "Van. You'll roar. Old Tom again. We'll 
 see by-and-by, after the champagne. He — this young Eaikes 
 — ha ! ha ! — but I can't tell you." And Andrew went away 
 to Drummond, to whom he was more communicative. Then 
 he went to Melville, and one or two others, and the eyes of 
 many became concentrated on Mr. John Eaikes, and it was 
 observed as a singular sign that he was constantly facing 
 about, and flushing the fiercest red. Once he made an effort 
 to get hold of Evan's arm and drag him away, as one who 
 had an urgent confession to be delivered of, but Evan was 
 talking to Lady Jocelyn, and other ladies, and quietly dis- 
 engaged his arm without even turning to notice the face 
 of his friend. Then the dinner was announced, and men saw 
 the dinner. The Countess went to shake her brother's hand, 
 and with a very gratulatory visage, said through her half- 
 shut teeth : "If Mama appears, rise up and go away with her, 
 before she has time to speak a word." An instant after Evan 
 found himself seated between Mrs. Evremonde and one of the 
 Conley girls. The dinner had commenced. The first half of 
 the Battle of the Bull-dogs was as peaceful as any ordinary 
 pic-nic, and promised to the general company as calm a 
 conclusion. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. PAET U. 
 
 If it be a distinct point of wisdom to hug the hour that is, 
 then does dinner amount to a highly intellectual invitation to 
 man, for it furnishes the occasion ; and Britons are the wisest 
 of their race, for more than all others they take advantage of 
 it. In this Nature is undoubtedly our guide, seeing that he 
 who, while feasting his body allows to his soul a thought for 
 the morrow, is in his digestion curst, and becomes a house of 
 evil humours. Now, though the epicure may complain of
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. 367 
 
 the cold meats, a dazzling table, a buzzing company, blue 
 sky, and a band of music, are incentives to the forgetfulness 
 of troubles past and imminent, and produce a concentration of 
 the faculties. They may not exactly prove that peace is 
 established between yourself and those who object to your 
 carving of the world, but they testify to an armistice. 
 
 Aided by these observations, you will understand how it 
 was that the Countess de Saldar, afflicted and menaced, was 
 inspired, on taking her seat, to give so graceful and stately a 
 sweep to her dress that she was enabled to conceive woman 
 and man alike to be secretly overcome by it. You will not 
 refuse to credit the fact that Mr. John Raikes threw care to 
 the dogs, heavy as was that mysterious lump suddenly preci- 
 pitated on his bosom; and you will think it not impossible 
 that even the springers of the mine about to explode should 
 lose their subterranean countenances. A generous abandon- 
 ment to one idea prevailed. As for Evan, the first glass 
 of champagne rushed into reckless nuptials with the music in. 
 his head, bringing Rose, warm almost as life, on his heart. 
 Sublime are the visions of lovers ! He knew he must leave 
 her on the morrow; he feared he might never behold her 
 again ; and yet he tasted exquisite bliss, for it seemed within 
 the contemplation of the Gods that he should dance with his 
 darling before dark — haply waltz with her ! Oh, heaven ! 
 he shuts his eyes, blinded. The band wheels off meltingly in 
 a tune all cadences, and twirls, and risings and sinkings, and 
 passionate outbursts trippingly consoled. Ah ! how sweet 
 to waltz through life with the right partner. And what 
 a singular thing it is to look back on the day when we 
 thought something like it ! Never mind : there may be 
 spheres where it is so managed — doubtless the planets have 
 their Han well and Bedlam. 
 
 I admit that I myself am not insensible to the effects of 
 that first glass of champagne. I feel the earthly Muse 
 escaping me, and a desire for the larger-eyed heavenly. 
 The poetry of my Countess's achievements waxes rich in 
 manifold colours : I see her by the Kght of her own pleas 
 to Providence. I doubt almost if the hand be mine which 
 daxed to make a hero play second fiddle, and to his beloved.
 
 868 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 I have placed a bushel over his light, certainly. Poor boy ! 
 it was enough that he should have tailordom on his shoulders : 
 I ought to have allowed him to conquer Mature, and so come 
 out of his eclipse. This shall be said of him : that he can 
 play second fiddle without looking foolish, which, for my 
 part, I call a greater triumph than if he were performing the 
 heroics we are more accustomed to. He has steady eyes, can 
 gaze at the right level into the eyes of others, and commands 
 a tongue which is neither struck dumb nor set in a flutter by 
 any startling question. The best instances to be given that 
 he does not lack merit are that the Jocelyns, whom he has 
 offended by his birth, cannot change their treatment of him, 
 and that the hostile women, whatever they may say, do not 
 think Rose utterly insane. At any rate, Eose is satisfied, 
 and her self-love makes her a keen critic. The moment Evan 
 appeared, the sickness produced in her by the Countess 
 passed, and she was ready to brave her situation. With no 
 mock humility she permitted Mrs. Shorne to place her in 
 a seat where glances could not be interchanged. She was 
 quite composed, calmly prepared for conversation with any- 
 one. Indeed, her behaviour since the hour of general expla- 
 nation had been so perfectly well-contained, that Mrs. Melville 
 said to Lady Jocelyn : 
 
 " I am only thinking of the damage to her. It will pass 
 over — this fancy. You can see she is not serious. It is mere 
 spirit of opposition. She eats and drinks just like other girls. 
 You can see that the fancy has not taken such very strong 
 hold of her." 
 
 " I can't agree with you," replied her ladyship. " I would 
 rather have her sit and sigh by the hour, and loathe roast 
 beef. That would look nearer a cure." 
 
 " She has the notions of a silly country girl," said Mrs. 
 Shorne. 
 
 " Exactly," Lady Jocelyn replied. "A season in London 
 will give her balance." 
 
 So the guests were tolerably happy, or at least, with scarce 
 an exception, open to the influences of champagne and music. 
 Perhaps Juliana was the wretchedest creature present. She 
 was about to smite on both cheeks him she loved, as well as
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS 369 
 
 the woman she despised and had been foiled by. Still she 
 had the consolation that Rose, seeing the vulgar mother, 
 might turn from Evan : a poor distant hope, meagre and 
 shapeless like herself. Her most anxious thoughts concerned 
 the means of getting money to lock up Harry's tongue. She 
 could bear to meet the Countess's wrath, but not Evan's 
 offended look. Hark to that Countess I 
 
 " Why do you denominate this a pic-nic, Lady Jocelyn ? It 
 is in verity a fete ! " 
 
 "I suppose we ought to lie down a la Grccque to come 
 within the term," was the reply. " On the whole, I prefer 
 plain English for such matters." 
 
 "But this is assuredly too sumptuous for a pic-nic. Lady 
 Jocelyn. From what I can remember, pic-nic implies con- 
 tribution from all the guests. It is true I left England a 
 child ! " 
 
 Mr. George Uploft could not withhold a sharp grimace. 
 The Countess had throttled the inward monitor that tells us 
 when we are lying, so grievously had she practised the habit 
 in the service of her family. 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Melville, " I have heard of that fashion, 
 and very stupid it is." 
 
 "Extremely vulgar," murmured Miss Carrington. 
 
 " Possibly," Lady Jocelyn observed; " but good fun. I have 
 been to pic-nics, in my day. I invariably took cold pie and 
 claret. I clashed with half-a-dozen, but all the harm we did 
 was to upset the dictum that there can be too much of a 
 good thing. I know for certain that the bottles were left 
 empty." 
 
 "And this woman," thought the Countess, "this woman, 
 with a soul so essentially vulgar, claims rank above me ! " 
 The reflection generated contempt of English society, in the 
 first place, and then a passionate desire for self-assertion. 
 
 She was startled by a direct attack which ai'oused her mo- 
 mentarily lulled energies. 
 
 A lady, quite a stranger, a dry simpering lady, caught the 
 Countess's benevolent passing gaze, and leaning forward, said : 
 " I hope her ladyship bears her afiliction as well as can be 
 expected ? "
 
 370 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 In military parlance, the Countess was taken in flank. 
 Another would have asked — "What ladyship P To whom do 
 you allude, may I beg to inquire? The Countess knew 
 better. Rapid as light it shot through her that the relict 
 of Sir Abraham was meant, and this she divined because 
 she was aware that devilish malignity was watching to 
 trip her. 
 
 A little conversation happening to buzz at the instant, the 
 Countess merely turned her chin to an angle, agitated her 
 brows very gently, and crowned the performance with a 
 mournful smile. All that a woman must feel at the demise 
 of so precious a thing as a husband, was therein eloquently 
 expressed : and at the same time, if explanations ensued, 
 there were numerous ladyships in the world, whom the Coun- 
 tess did not mind afflicting, should she be hard pressed. 
 
 " I knew him so well ! " resumed the horrid woman, 
 addressing anybody. " It was so sad ! so unexpected ! but 
 he was so subject to affection of the throat. And I was 
 so sorry I could not get down to him in time. I had not 
 seen him since his marriage, when I was a girl ! — and to 
 meet one of his chUdi-en ! — But, my dear, in quinsey, I 
 have heard that there is nothing on earth like a good hearty 
 laugh." 
 
 Mr. John Raikes hearing this, sucked down the flavour of 
 a glass of champagne, and with a look of fierce jollity, said : 
 ' ' Then our vocation is at last revealed to us ! Quinsey- 
 doctor ! I remember when a boy, wandering over the paternal 
 mansion, and envying the life of a tinker, which my mother 
 did not think a good omen in me. But the traps of a Quinsey- 
 doctor are even lighter. Say twenty good jokes, and two or 
 three of a practical kind. Prom place to place he travels on, 
 tracked by the loud guffaw ! A man most enviable ! — 'Gad," 
 our mercurial friend added, in a fit of profound earnestness, 
 " I know nothing I should like so much ! " But lifting his 
 head, and seeing in the face of the ladies that it was not the 
 profession of a gentleman, he exclaimed : "I have better 
 prospects, of course ! " and drank anew, inwardly cursing his 
 betraying sincerity. 
 
 " It appears," he remarked aloud to one of the Conley
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. 371 
 
 girls, " that quinsey is needed before a joke is properly 
 appreciated." 
 
 " I like fun," said she. Mr. Eaikes looked at her 
 with keen admiration. "I can laugh at a monkey all 
 day long," she continued. He drifted leagues from 
 her. 
 
 What did that odious woman mean by perpetually talkiu"; 
 about Sir Abraham ? Tbe Countess intercepted a glance 
 between her and the hated Juliana. She felt it was a 
 malignant conspiracy : still the vacuous vulgar air of the 
 woman told her that most probably she was but an instru- 
 ment, not a confederate, and was only trying to push herself 
 into acquaintance with the great : a proceeding scorned and 
 abominated by the Countess, who longed to punish her 
 for her insolent presumption. The bitterness of her situa- 
 tion stung her tenfold when she considered that she dared 
 not. 
 
 Meantime the champagne became as regular in its flow 
 as the Bull-dogs, and the monotonous bass of these latter 
 sounded through the music, like life behind the murmur of 
 pleasure, if you will. The Countess had a not uu feminine 
 weakness for champagne, and old Mr. Bonner's cellar was 
 well and choicely stocked. But was this enjoyment to the 
 Countess ? — this dreary station in the background ! No 
 creatures grinding their teeth with envy of her ! None 
 bursting with admiration and the ardent passions ! " May 
 I emerge ? " she as much as implored Providence. The 
 petition was infinitely tender. She thought she might, or it 
 may be that nature was strong, and she could not restrain 
 herself. 
 
 Taking wine with Sir John, she said : 
 
 " This bowing! Do you know how amusing it is deemed 
 by us Portuguese ? "Why not embrace ? as the dear Queen 
 used to say to me." 
 
 "I am decidedly of Her Majesty's opinion," observed Sir 
 John, with emphasis, and the Countess drew back into a 
 mingled laugh and blush. 
 
 Her fiendish persecutor gave two or three nods. "And 
 you know the Queen ! " she said. 
 
 bb2
 
 372 EVAN HARRINGTON". 
 
 She had to repeat the remark : whereupon the Countess 
 murmured, " Intimately." 
 
 "Ah, we have lost a staunch old Tory in Sir Abraham," 
 said the lady, performing lamentation. 
 
 What did it mean ? Could design lodge in that empty- 
 looking head with its crisp curls, button nose, and diminish- 
 ing simper? Was this pic-nic to be made as terrible to the 
 Countess by her putative father as the dinner had been by 
 the great Mel? The deep, hard, level look of Juliana met 
 the Countess's smile from time to time, and like flimsy light 
 horse before a solid array of infantry, the Countess fell back, 
 only to be worried afresh by her perfectly unwitting tor- 
 mentor. 
 
 " His last days ? — without pain ? Oh, I hope so ! " came 
 after a lapse of general talk. 
 
 "Aren't we getting a little funereal, Mrs. Perkins ? " Lady 
 Jocelyn asked, and then rallied her neighbours. 
 
 Miss Carrington looked at her vexedly, for the fiendish 
 Perkins was checked, and the Countess in alarm, about 
 to commit herself, was a pleasant sight to Miss Carrington. 
 
 " The worst of these indiscriminate meetings is that there 
 is no conversation," whispered the Countess, thanking Provi- 
 dence for the relief. 
 
 Just then she saw Juliana bend her brows at another per- 
 son. This was George Uploft, who shook his head, and indi- 
 cated a shrewd-eyed, thin, middle-aged man, of a lawyer-like 
 cast; and then Juliana nodded, and George Uploft touched 
 his arm, and glanced hurriedly behind for champagne. The 
 Countess's eyes dwelt on the timid young squire most affec- 
 tionately. Tou never saw a fortress more unprepared for 
 dread assault. 
 
 "Hem!" was heard, terrific. But the proper pause had 
 evidently not yet come, and now to prevent it the Countess 
 strained her energies and tasked her genius intensely. Have 
 you an idea of the difficulty of keeping up the ball among a 
 host of ill-assorted, stupid country people, who have no open 
 topics, and can talk of nothing continuously but scandal of 
 their neighbours, and who, moreover, feel they are not up to 
 the pv'^ople they are mixing with? Darting upon Seymour
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. 373 
 
 Jocelyn, the Countess asked touchingly for news of the 
 partridges. It was like the unlocking of a machine. Sey- 
 mour was not blythe in his reply, but he was loud and for- 
 cible ; and when he came to the statistics — oh, then you 
 would have admired the Countess ! — for comparisons ensued, 
 braces were enumerated, numbers given were contested, and 
 the shooting of this one jeered at, and another's sure mark 
 respectfully admitted. And how lay the coveys? And what 
 about the damage done by last winter's floods? And was 
 there good hope of the pheasants ? Outside this clatter the 
 Countess hovered. Twice the awful " Hem ! " was heard. 
 She fought on. She kept them at it. If it flagged she 
 wished to know this or that, and finally thought that, really, 
 she should like herself to try one shot. The women and Mr. 
 John Raikes had previously been left behind. This brought 
 in the women. Lady Jocelyn proposed a female expedition 
 for the morrow. 
 
 "I believe I used to be something of a shot, formerly," 
 she said. 
 
 " You peppered old Tom once, my lady," remarked Andrew, 
 and her ladyship laughed, and that foolish Andrew told the 
 story, and the Countess, to revive her subject had to say : 
 "May I be enrolled to shoot?" though she detested and 
 shrank from fire-arms. 
 
 " Here are two ! " said the hearty presiding dame. " La- 
 dies, apply immediately to have your names put down." 
 
 The possibility of an expedition of ladies now struck 
 Seymour vividly, and said he: "I'll be secretary;" and 
 began applying to the ladies for permission to put down their 
 names. Many declined, with brevity, muttering, either aloud 
 or to themselves, "unwomanly;" varied by "unladylike:" 
 some confessed cowardice; some a horror of the noise close to 
 their ears ; and there was the plea of nerves. But the names 
 of half-a-dozen ladies were collected, and then followed much 
 laugliter, and musical hubbub, and delicate banter. So the 
 ladies and gentlemen fell one and all into the partridge pit 
 dug for them by the Countess : and that horrible "Hem! " 
 equal in force and terror to the roar of artillery preceding the 
 cliarge of ten thousand dragoons, was silenced — the pit ap-
 
 374 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 peared impassable. Did the Countess crow over her advan- 
 tage? Mark her: the lady's face is entirely given up to 
 partridges. "English sports are so much envied abroad," 
 she says : but what she dreads is a reflection, for that leads 
 off from the point. A portion of her mind she keeps to 
 combat them in Lady Jocelyn and others who have the 
 tendency : the rest she divides between internal prayers for 
 succour, and casting about for another popular subject to 
 follow partridges. Now, mere talent, as critics say when 
 they are lighting candles round a genius, mere talent would 
 have hit upon pheasants as the natural sequitur, and then 
 diverged to sports — a great theme, for it ensures a chorus of 
 sneers at foreigners, and so on probably to a discussion of 
 birds and beasts best adapted to enrapture the palate of man. 
 Stories may succeed, but they are doubtful, and not to be 
 trusted, coming after cookery. After an exciting subject 
 which has made the general tongue to wag, and just enough 
 heated the brain to cause it to cry out for spiced food — then 
 start your story: taking care that it be mild; for one too 
 marvellous stops the tide, the sense of climax being strongly 
 implanted in all bosoms. So the Countess told an anecdote — 
 one of Mel's. Mr. George TJploft was quite familiar with it, 
 and knew of one passage that would have abashed him to 
 relate * before ladies. ' The sylph-like ease with which the 
 Countess floated over this foul abysm was miraculous. Mr. 
 George screwed his eye-lids queerly, and closed his jaws with 
 a report, completely beaten. The anecdote was of the cha- 
 racter of an apologue, and pertained to game. This was, as 
 it happened, a misfortune ; for Mr. John Eaikes had felt him- 
 self left behind by the subject ; and the stuff' that was in this 
 young man being naturally ebullient, he lay by to trip it, and 
 take a lead. His remarks brought on him a shrewd cut from 
 the Countess, which made matters worse ; for a pun may also 
 breed puns, as doth an anecdote. The Countess's stroke was 
 so neat and perfect that is was something for the gentlemen 
 to think over ; and to punish her for giving way to her clever- 
 ness and to petty vexation, " Hem ! " sounded once more, 
 and then : " May I ask you if the present Baronet is in 
 England ? "
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. 375 
 
 Now Lady Jocclyn perceived that some attack was 
 directed against her guest. She allowed the Countess to 
 answer : — 
 
 " The eldest was drowned in the Lisbon waters : " 
 
 And then said : " But who is it that persists in serving Tip 
 the funeral baked meats to us ? " 
 
 Mrs. Shorne spoke for her neighbour : " Mr. Farnley's 
 cousin was the steward of Sir Abraham Harrington'^ 
 estates." 
 
 The Countess held up her head boldly. There is a coura. 
 geous exaltation of the nerves known to heroes and great 
 Grenerals in action when they feel sure that resources within 
 themselves will spring up to the emergency, and that over 
 simple mortals success is positive. 
 
 "I had a great respect for Sir Abraham," Mr. Farnley ex- 
 plained, "very great. I heard that this lady" (bowing to 
 the Countess) " was his daughter." 
 
 Lady Jocelyn's face wore an angry look, and Mrs. Shorne 
 gave her the shade of a shrug and an expression implying, 
 "/didn't!" 
 
 Evan was talking to Miss Jenny Graine at the moment 
 rather earnestly. "With a rapid glance at him, to see that his 
 oars were closed, the Countess breathed : 
 
 " Not the elder branch !— Cadet ! " 
 
 The sort of noisy silence produced by half-a-dozen people 
 respirating deeply and moving in their seats was heard. 
 The Countess watched Mr. Farnley's mystified look, and 
 whispered to Sir John : " Est-ce qu'il comprenne le Fran- 
 9ais, lui P " 
 
 It was the final feather-like touch to her triumph. She 
 saw safety and a clear escape, and much joyful gain, and the 
 pleasure of relating her sufferings in days to come. This 
 vista was before her when, harsh as an execution bell, telling 
 her that she had vanquished man, but that Providence 
 opposed her, " Mrs. Melchisedec Harrington ! " was an- 
 nounced to Lady Jocelj-n. 
 
 Perfect stillness reigned immediately, as if the pic-nic had 
 heard its doom. 
 
 "Oh! I will go to her," said her ladyship, whose first
 
 376 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 thought was to spare the family. "Andrew, come and give 
 me yoiu" arm." 
 
 But when she rose Mrs. Mel was no more than the length 
 of an arm from her elbow. 
 
 In the midst of the horrible anguish she was enduring, the 
 Countess could not help criticising her mother's curtsey to 
 Lady Jocelyn. Fine, but a shade too humble. Still it was 
 fine ; all might not yet be lost. 
 
 " Mama ! " she softly exclaimed, and thanked heaven that 
 she had not denied her parent. 
 
 Mrs. Mel did not notice her or any of her children. There 
 was in her bosom a terrible determination to cast a devil out 
 of the one she best loved. For this purpose, heedless of all 
 pain to be given, or of impropriety, she had come to speak 
 publicly, and disgrace and humiliate, that she might save 
 him from the devils that had ruined his father. 
 
 " My lady," said the terrible woman, thanking her in 
 reply to an invitation that she should be seated, " I have 
 come for my son. I hear he has been plajdng the lord in 
 your house, my lady. I humbly thank your ladyship for 
 your kindness to him, but he is nothing more than a tailor's 
 son, and is bound a tailor himself that his father may be 
 called an honest man. I am come to take him away." 
 
 Mrs. Mel seemed to speak without much effort, though 
 the pale flush of her cheeks showed that she felt what she 
 was doing. Juliana was pale as death, watching Rose. In- 
 tensely bright with the gem-like light of her gallant spirit, 
 Rose's eyes fixed on Evan. He met them and smiled. The 
 words of Ruth passed through his heart, nourishing him. 
 "With this angel lifting him up, what need he fear ? If he 
 reddened, the blush was taken up by love. But the Coun- 
 tess, who had given Rose to Evan, and the Duke to Caroline, 
 where was her supporter P The Duke was entertaining Caro- 
 line with no less dexterity, and Rose's eyes said to Evan : 
 " Feel no shame that I do not feel ! " but the Countess stood 
 alone. It is ever thas with genius ! to quote the numerous 
 illustrious authors who have written of it. 
 
 "What mattered it now that in the dead hush Lady Jocelyn 
 should assure her mother that she had been misinformed, and
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. 377 
 
 that Mrs. Mel was presently quieted, and made to sit with 
 others before the fruits and wines ? All eyes were hateful — 
 the verj' thought of Providence confused her brain. Almost 
 reduced to imbecility, the Countess imagined, as a reality, 
 that Sir Abraham had borne with her till her public an- 
 nouncement of relationship, and that then the outraged ghost 
 would no longer be restrained, and had struck this blow. 
 She talked, she laughed, — she was unaware of what passed 
 in the world. 
 
 The crushed pic-nic tried to get a little air, and made 
 pathetic attempts at conversation. Mrs. Mel sat upon the 
 company with the weight of all tailordom. 
 
 And now a messenger came for Harry. Everybody was so 
 zealously employed in the struggle to appear comfortable 
 under Mrs, Mel, that his departure was hardly observed. 
 The general feeling for Evan and his sisters, by their supe- 
 riors in rank, was one of kindly pity. Laxley, however, did 
 not behave well. He put up his glass and scrutinized Mrs. 
 Mel, and then examined Evan, and Rose thought that in his 
 interchange of glances with anyone there was a lurking re- 
 vival of the scene gone by. She signalled with her eyebrows 
 for Drummond to correct him, but Drummond had another 
 occupation. Andrew made the diversion. He whispered to 
 his neighbour, and the whisper went round, and the laugh ; 
 and Mr. John Eaikes grew extremely uneasy in his seat, and 
 betrayed an extraordinary alarm. But he also was soon 
 relieved. A messenger had come from Harry to Mrs. Evre- 
 monde, bearing a slip of paper. This the lady glanced at, 
 and handed it to Drummond. A straggKng pencil had traced 
 these words : 
 
 " Just running by S.W. gates — saw the Captain coming in 
 — couldn't stop to stop him — tremendous hurry — important. 
 Harry J." 
 
 Drummond sent the paper to Lady Jocelyn. After her 
 perusal of it a scout was despatched to the summit of Olym- 
 pus, and his report proclaimed the advance in the direction of 
 the BuU-dogs of a smart little figure of a man in white hat 
 and white trousers, who kept flicking his legs with a cane. 
 
 Mrs. Evremonde rose and conferred with her ladyship an
 
 B78 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 instant, and then Drunimond took her arm quietly, and passed 
 round Olympus to theEast, and Lady Jocelyn broke up the 
 Bitting. 
 
 Juliana saw Rose go up to Evan and take his hand, and 
 make him introduce her to his mother. She turned lividly 
 white, and went to a corner of the park by herself, and cried 
 bitterly. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn, Sir Franks, and Sir John, remained by the 
 tables, but before the guests were out of ear-shot, the indivi- 
 dual signalled from Olympus presented himself. 
 
 " There are times when one can't see what else to do but 
 to lie," said her ladyship to Sir Pranks, "and when we do 
 lie the only way is to lie intrepidly." 
 
 Turning from her perplexed husband, she exclaimed : 
 
 "Ah! Lawson?" 
 
 Captain Evremonde lifted his hat, declining an intimacy. 
 
 " Where is my wife, madam ? " 
 
 " Have you just come from the Arctic Eegions P " 
 
 " I have come for my wife, madam ! " 
 
 His unsettled grey eyes wandered restlessly on Lady Joce- 
 lyn' s face. The Countess standing apart near the Duke, felt 
 some pity for the wife of that cropped-headed, tight-skinned 
 lunatic at large, but deeper was the Countess's pity for Lady 
 Jocelyn, in thinking of the account she would have to render 
 on the Day of Judgement, when she heard her ladyship 
 reply : 
 
 " Evelyn is not here." 
 
 Captain Evremonde bowed profoundly, trailing his broad 
 white hat along the sward. 
 
 "Do me the favour to read this, madam," he said, and 
 handed a letter to her. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn raised her brows as she gathered the contents 
 of the letter. 
 
 " Ferdinand's handwriting ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " I accuse no one, madam, — I make no accusation. I 
 have every respect for you, madam, — you have my esteem. 
 I am sorry to intrude, madam, an intrusion is regretted. My 
 wife runs away from her bed, madam, — and I have the law, 
 madam, — the law is with the husband. No force!" He
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BULL-DOGS. 379 
 
 lashed his cane sharply against his white legs. " The law, 
 madam. No brute force ! " His cane made a furious whirl, 
 cracking again on his legs, as he reiterated, " The law ' " 
 
 " Does the law advise you to strike at a tangent all over 
 the country in search for her ? " inquired Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 Captain Evremonde became ten times more voluble and 
 excited. 
 
 Mrs. Mel was heard by the Countess to say : " Her lady- 
 ship does not know how to treat madmen." 
 
 Nor did Sir Pranks and Sir John. They began expostu- 
 lating with him. 
 
 "A madman gets madder when you talk reason to him," 
 said Mrs. Mel. 
 
 And now the Countess stepped forward to Lady Jocelyn, 
 and hoped she would not be thought impertinent in offering 
 her opinion as to how this frantic person should be treated. 
 The case indeed looked urgent. Many gentlemen considered 
 themselves bound to approach and be ready in case of need. 
 Presently the Countess passed between Sir Pranks and Sir 
 John, and with her hand put up, as if she feared the furious 
 cane, said : 
 
 " You will not strike me ? " 
 
 " Strike a lady, madam ? " The cane and hat were simul- 
 taneously lowered. 
 
 " Lady Jocelyn permits me to fetch for you a gentleman of 
 the law. Or will you accompany me to him ? " 
 
 In a moment, Captain Evremonde's manners were subdued 
 and civilized, and in perfectly sane speech he thanked the 
 Countess and offered her his arm. The Countess smilingly 
 waved back Sir John, who motioned to attend on her, aud 
 away she went with the Captain, with all the glow of a 
 woman who feels that she is heaping coals of fire on the 
 heads of her enemies. 
 
 Was she not admired now ? 
 
 " Upon my honour," said Jjadj Jocelyn, " they are a re- 
 markable family," meaning the Harringtons. 
 
 What farther she thought she did not say, but she was a 
 woman who looked to natural gifts more than the gifts of 
 accidents ; and I think Evan's chance stood high with her
 
 380 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 then. So the battle of the Bull-dogs was fought, and 
 cruelly as the Countess had been assailed and wounded, she 
 gained a brilliant victory ; yea, though Demogorgon, aided 
 by the vindictive ghost of Sir Abraham, took tangible shape 
 in the ranks opjoosed to her. True, Lady Jocelyn, forgetting 
 her own recent intrepidity, condemned her as a liar ; but the 
 fruits of the Countess's victory were plentiful. Drummond 
 Forth, fearful perhaps of exciting unjust suspicions in the 
 mind of Captain Evremonde, disappeared altogether. Harry 
 was in a mess which threw him almost upon Evan's mercy, 
 as will be related. And, lastly, Ferdinand Laxley, that 
 insufferable young aristocrat, was thus spoken to by Lady 
 Jocelyn. 
 
 " This letter addressed to Lawson, telling him that his 
 wife is here, is in your handwriting, Ferdinand. I don't say 
 you wrote it — I don't think you could have written it. But, 
 to tell you the truth, I have an unpleasant impression about 
 it, and I think we had better shake hands and not see each 
 other for some time." 
 
 Laxley, after one denial of his guilt, disdained to repeat it. 
 He met her ladyship's hand haughtily, and, bowing to Sir 
 Franks, turned on his heel. 
 
 So, then, in glorious complete victory, the battle of the 
 Bull-dogs ended ! 
 
 Of the close of the pic-nic more remains to be told. 
 
 For the present I pause, in observance of those rules 
 which demand that after an exhibition of consummate deeds, 
 time be given to the spectator to digest what has passed 
 before him.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 TS WHICH EVAN'S LIGHT BEGINS TO TWINKLE AGAIN. 
 
 The dowagers were now firmly planted on Olympus. 
 Along the grass lay warm, strong colours of the evening sun, 
 reddening the pine-stems and the idle aspen-leaves. For a 
 moment it had hung in doubt whether the pic-nic could sur- 
 vive the two rude shocks it had received. Happily the 
 youthful element Avas large, and when the band, refreshed 
 by chicken and sherry, threw off half-a-dozen bars of one of 
 those irresistible waltzes that first catch the ear, and then 
 curl round the heart, till on a sudden they invade and will 
 have the legs, a rush up Parnassus was seen, and there were 
 shouts and laughter and commotion, as over other great fields 
 of battle the corn will wave gaily and mark the re-establish- 
 ment of nature's reign. 
 
 How fair the sight ! Approach the twirling couples 
 They talk as they whirl. 
 
 "Fancy the run-away tailor! " is the male's remark, and 
 he expects to be admired for it, and is. 
 
 " That make-up Countess — his sister, you know — didn't 
 you see her ? she turned green," says Creation's second effort, 
 almost occupying the place of a rib, 
 
 " Isn't there a run-away wife, too ? ' 
 
 " Now, you musn't be naughty ! " 
 
 They laugh and flatter one another. The power to give 
 and take flattery to any amount is the rare treasure of youth. 
 
 Undoubtedly they are a poetical picture ; but some poetical 
 pictures talk dreary prose ; so we will retire. 
 
 l^ow, while the dancers carried on their business, and dis- 
 tance lent them enchantment, Rose stood by Juliana, near an 
 alder which hid them from the rest. 
 
 "I don't accuse you," she was saying; "but who could 
 have done this but you ? Ah, Juley ! you will never get 
 what you want if you plot for it. I thought once you cared 
 for Evan. If he had loved you, would I not have done all
 
 882 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 that I could for you both ? I pardon you with all my heart, 
 Juley." 
 
 " Keep your pardon ! " was the angry answer. " I have 
 done more for you, Rose. He is an adventurer, and I have 
 tried to open your eyes and make you respect your family. 
 You may accuse me of what you like, I have my con- 
 science." 
 
 "And the friendship of the Countess," added Rose. 
 
 Juliana's figure shook as if she had been stung. 
 
 " Go and be happy — don't stay here and taunt me," she 
 said, with a ghastly look. " I suppose he can lie like his 
 sister, and has told you all sorts of tales." 
 
 " Not a word — not a word ! " cried Rose. " Do you think 
 my lover could tell a lie ? " 
 
 The superb assumption of the girl, and the true portrait of 
 Evan's character which it flashed upon Juliana, were to the 
 latter such intense pain, that she turned like one on the rack, 
 exclaiming : 
 
 "You think so much of him? You are so proud of him ? 
 Then, yes ! I love him too, ugly, beastly as I am to look at ! 
 Oh, I know what you think ! I loved him from the first, 
 and I knew all about him, and spared him pain, I did not 
 wait for him to fall from a horse. I watched every chance 
 of his being exposed. I let them imagine he cared for me. 
 Drummond would have told what he knew long before — only 
 he knew there would not be much harm in a tradesman's son 
 marrying me. And I have played into your hands, and now 
 you taunt me ! " 
 
 Rose remembered her fretful unkiudness to Evan on the 
 subject of his birth, when her feelings towards him were less 
 warm. Dwelling on that alone, she put her arms round 
 Juliana's stifi'ening figure, and said : "I dare say I am much 
 more selfish than you. Forgive me, dear." 
 
 Staring at her, Juliana replied, " Now you are acting." 
 
 "No," said Rose, with a little effort to fondle her; "I 
 only feel that I love you better for loving him." 
 
 Generous as her words sounded, and were, Juliana in- 
 tuitively struck to the root of them, which was comfortless. 
 For how calm in its fortune, how strong in its love, must
 
 EVAN'S LIGHT BEGINS TO TWINKLE AGAIN. 383 
 
 Rose's heart be, when she could speak in this unwonted 
 way ! 
 
 "Go, and leave me, pray," she said. 
 
 Rose kissed her burning cheek. " I will do as you wish, 
 dear. Try and know me better, and be sister Juley as you 
 used to be. I know I am thoughtless, and horribly vain 
 and disagreeable sometimes. Do forgive me. 1 will love 
 you truly." 
 
 Half melting, Juliana pressed her hand. 
 
 "We are friends?" said Rose. "Good-bye;" and her 
 countenance lighted, and she moved away, so changed by 
 her happiness ! Juliana was jealous of a love strong as she 
 deemed her own to overcome obstacles. She called to her : 
 "Rose! Rose, you wiU not take advantage of what I have 
 told you, and repeat it to any one ? " 
 
 Instantly Rose turned with a glance of full contempt over 
 her shoulder. 
 
 " To whom ? " she asked. 
 
 " To any one." 
 
 " To him ? He would not love me long if I did ! " 
 
 Juliana burst into fresh tears, but Rose walked into the 
 sunbeams and the circle of the music. 
 
 Mounting Olympus, she inquired whether Ferdinand was 
 within hail, as they were pledged to dance the first dance 
 together. A few hints were given, and then Rose learnt that 
 Ferdinand had been dismissed. 
 
 " And where is he ?" she cried with her accustomed im- 
 petuosity. "Mama! — of course you did not accuse him — 
 but. Mama ! could you possibly let him go with the suspicion 
 that you thought him guilty of writing an anonymous 
 letter?" 
 
 " Not at all," Lady Jocelyn replied. " Only the handwrit- 
 ing was so extremely like, and he was the only person who 
 knew the address and the circumstances, and who could have a 
 motive — though I don't quite see what it is — I thought it as 
 well to part for a time." 
 
 "But that's sophistry ! " said Rose. " You accuse or you 
 exonerate. Nobody can be half guilty. If you do not hold 
 him innocent you are unjust ! "
 
 384 EVAN HAERINGTON. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn rejoined: "Yes? It's singular what a 
 stock of axioms young people have handy for their occa- 
 sions." 
 
 Rose loudly announced that she would right this matter. 
 
 " I can't think where Eose gets her passion for hot water," 
 said her mother, as Rose ran down the ledge. 
 
 Two or three young gentlemen tried to engage her for a 
 dance. She gave them plenty of promises, and hurried on 
 tiU she met Evan, and, almost out of breath, told him the 
 shameful injustice that had been done to her friend. 
 
 "Mama is such an Epicurean! I really think she is 
 worse than Papa. This disgraceful letter looks like Fer- 
 dinand's writing, and she tells him so ; and, Evan ! will you 
 believe that instead of being certain it's impossible any 
 gentleman could do such a thing, she tells Eerdinand she shall 
 feel more comfortable if she doesn't see him for some time ? 
 Poor Ferdinand ! He has had so much to bear ! " 
 
 Too sure of his darling to be envious now of any man 
 she pitied, Evan said, "I would forfeit my hand on his 
 innocence ! " 
 
 "And so would I," echoed Eose. "Come to him with 
 me, dear. Or no," she added, with a little womanly discre- 
 tion, "perhaps it would not be so well — you're not very 
 much cast down by what happened at dinner ? " 
 
 "My darling! I think of you." 
 
 " Of me, dear? Concealment is never of any service. "What 
 there is to be known people may as well know at once. 
 They'll gossip for a month, and then forget it. Tour mother 
 is dreadfully outspoken, certainly; but she has better manners 
 than many ladies — I mean people in a position : you under- 
 stand me ? But suppose, dear, this had happened, and I had 
 said nothing to Mama, and then we had to confess ? Ah, 
 you'll find I'm wiser than you imagine, Mr. Evan." 
 
 "Haven't I submitted to somebody's lead ? " 
 
 "Yes, but with a sort of ' under protest.' I saw it by the 
 mouth. Not quite natural. You have been moody ever 
 since — ^just a little. I suppose it's our manly pride. But I'm 
 losing time. Will you promise me not to brood over that 
 occurrence ? Think of me. Think everything of me. I am
 
 EVAN'S LIGHT BEGINS TO TWINKLE AGAIN. 385 
 
 yours; and, dearest, if I love you, need you cure what any- 
 body else thinks ? We will soon change their opinion." 
 
 "I care so little," said Evan, somewhat untruthfully, 
 " that till you return I shall go and sit with my mother." 
 
 " Oh, she has gone. She made her dear old antiquated 
 curtsey to Mama and the company. * If my son has not been 
 guilty of deception, I will leave him to your good pleasure, 
 my lady.' That's what she said. Mama likes her, I know. 
 But I wish she didn't mouth her words so precisely: it 
 reminds me of — " the Countess, E.ose checked herself from 
 saying. "Good-bye. Thank heaven! the worst has happened. 
 Do you know what I should do if I were you, and felt at all 
 distressed ? I should keep repeating," Rose looked archly 
 and deeply up under his eyelids, " ' I am the son of a trades- 
 man, and Rose loves me,' over and over, and then, if you 
 feel ashamed, what is it of? " 
 
 She nodded adieu, laughing at her own idea of her great 
 worth ; an idea verj^ firmly fixed in her fair bosom, notwith- 
 standing. Mrs. Melville said of her, " I used to think she 
 had pi'ide." Lady Jocelyn answered, "So she has. The 
 misfortune is that it has taken the wrong turning." 
 
 Evan watched the figure that was to him as that of an 
 angel — no less ! She spoke so frankly to them as she passed : 
 or here and there went on with a light laugh. It seemed an 
 act of graciousness that she should open her mouth to one I 
 And, indeed, by virtue of a pride which raised her to the 
 level of what she thought it well to do, Rose was veritably 
 on higher ground than any present. She no longer envied 
 her friend Jenny, who, emerging from the shades, allured by 
 the waltz, dislinked herself from William's arm, and whis- 
 pered exclamations of sorrow at the scene created by Mr. 
 Harrington's mother. Rose patted her hand, and said : 
 "Thank you, Jenny dear: but don't be soytj. I'm glad. 
 It prevents a number of private explanations." 
 
 " Still, dear I " Jenny siiggested. 
 
 " Oh ! of course, I should like to lay my whip across the 
 shoulders of the person who arranged the conspiracy," said 
 Rose. " And afterwards I don't mind returning thanks to 
 him, or her, or them." 
 

 
 386 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 William cried out, *' I'm always on your side, Rose." 
 
 " And I'll be Jenny's bridesmaid," rejoined Rose, stepping 
 blithely away from them. 
 
 Evan debated whither to turn when Rose was lost to his eyes. 
 He had no heart for dancing. Presently a servant approached, 
 and said that Mr. Harry particularly desired to see him. 
 From Harry's looks at table, Evan judged that the interview 
 was not likely to be amicable. He asked the direction he 
 was to take, and setting out with long strides, came in sight 
 of John Raikes, who walked in gloom, and was evidently 
 labouring under one of bis mountains of melancholy. Jack 
 affected to be quite out of the world ; but finding that Evan 
 took the hint in his usual prosy manner, was reduced to call 
 after him, and finally to run and catch him. 
 
 " Haven't you one single spark of curiosity? " he began. 
 
 " What about ? " said Evan. 
 
 "Why, about my amazing luck! You haven't asked a 
 question. A matter of course." 
 
 Evan complimented him by asking a question : saying that 
 Jack's luck certainly was wonderful. 
 
 " Wonderful, you call it," said Jack, witheringly. "And 
 what's more wonderful is, that I'd give up all for quiet 
 quarters in the Green Dragon. I knew I was prophetic. I 
 knew I should regret that peaceful hostelry. Diocletian, if 
 you like. I beg you to listen. I can't walk so fast without 
 danger." 
 
 "Well, speak out, man. What's the matter with you?" 
 cried Evan, impatiently. 
 
 Jack shook his head: "I see a total absence of sympathy," 
 he remarked. " I can't." 
 
 " Then stand out of the way." 
 
 Jack let him pass, exclaiming, with cold irony, " I will 
 pay homage to a loftier Nine I" 
 
 Mr. Raikes could not in his soul imagine that Evan was 
 really so little inquisitive concerning a business of such im- 
 portance as the trouble that possessed him. He watched his 
 friend striding off, incredulously, and then commenced run- 
 ning in pursuit. 
 
 "Harrington, I give in; I surrender; you reduce me to
 
 EVAN'S LIGHT BEGINS TO TWINKLE AGAIN. 387 
 
 prose. Thy nine have conquered my nine ! — pardon me, old 
 fellow. I'm immensely upset. This is the first day in my 
 life that I ever felt what indigestion is. Egad, I've got 
 something to derange the best digestion going ! 
 
 "Look here Harrington. What happened to you to-day, 
 I declare I think nothing of. You owe me your assistance, 
 you do, indeed; for if it hadn't been for the fearful fascinations 
 of your sister — that divine Countess — I should have been 
 engaged to somebody by this time, and profited by the oppor- 
 tunity held out to me, and which is now gone. Gone, I say ! 
 I'm disgraced. I'm betrayed. I'm known. And the worst of 
 it is, I must face people. I daren't turn tail. Did you ever 
 hear of such a dilemma ? " 
 
 " Ay," quoth Evan, " what is it ? " 
 
 Mr. Eaikes turned pale. "Then you haven't heard of it?" 
 " Not a word." 
 
 "Then it's all for me to tell," returned Jack, groaning. 
 " Harrington, I called on Messrs. Grist. I dined at the 
 Aurora afterwards. Depend upon it, Harrington, we're led 
 by a star. I mean, fellows with anything in them are. I 
 recognizee! our Fallowfield host, and thinking to draw him 
 out, I told our mutual histories. Next day I went to Messrs. 
 Grist, for tailor No. 2 — had to go nine days, you know. 
 They proposed the membership for Fallowfield, five hundred 
 a year, and the loan of a curricle, on condition. It's singular, 
 Harrington; before anybody knew of the condition I didn't 
 care about it a bit. It seemed to me childish. Who would 
 think of minding wearing a tin plate ? But now ! — the 
 sufierings of Orestes — what are they to mine? He wasn't 
 tied to his Furies. They did hover a little above him ; but 
 as for me, I'm scorched ; and I mustn't say where : my 
 mouth is locked; the social laws vyhich forbid the employ- 
 ment of obsolete words arrest my passionate exclamations of 
 despair. I feel as if I were frying on my own conscience. 
 What do you advise me to do ? " 
 
 "Eh?" quoth Evan, "a tin plate? Is that the founda- 
 tion of your fortune? Oh, change your suit and renounce 
 the curricle." 
 
 " Will you measure me ? " 
 
 00 2
 
 388 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 " Jack ! Jack ! " said Evan, softly. 
 
 " There, pardon me, Harrington, pray. It's bile. My 
 whole digestion's seriously deranged." 
 
 " You seemed happy this morning ? " 
 
 " Yes, but there was still the curst anticipation of its 
 oozing out. I confess I didn't think I should feel it so acutely. 
 But I'm awfully sensitive. And now it's known, I don't 
 seem to live in front. My spirit somehow seems to have 
 faced about. !N^ow I see the malignant nature of that old 
 wretch ! I told him over a pint of port — and what noble 
 stuff is that Aurora port ! — I told him — I amused him till he 
 was on the point of bursting — I told him I was such a 
 gentleman as the world hadn't seen — minus money. So he 
 determined to launch me. And he has ! Harrington, I'm 
 like a ship. Literally I carry my name behind. ' John P. 
 Raikes, Gentleman.' I see the eyes of the world directed on 
 it. It completely blasts my genius. Upon my honour — I 
 got it in your service — and you ought to claim part pro- 
 prietorship. Oh ! I shall give up Fallowfield. Fancy the 
 hustings ! It would be like hell ! Ungenerous old man ! 
 Oh! why didn't I first — ass that I was! — stipulate for silence. 
 I should never have been in danger then, except when 
 dancing, or in a high wind. All my bright visions are 
 faded." 
 
 Evan listened to the tribulations of his friend as he would 
 to those of a doll — the sport of some experimental child. By 
 this time he knew something of old Tom Cogglesby, and was 
 not astonished that he should have chosen John Raikes to 
 play one of his farces on. Jack turned off abruptly the 
 moment he saw they were nearing human figures, but soon 
 returned to Evan's side, as if for protection. 
 
 "Hoy! Harrington!" shouted Harry, beckoning to him. 
 " Come, make haste ! I'm in a deuce of a mess." 
 
 The two Wheedles — Susan and Polly — were standing in 
 front of him, and after his call to Evan, he turned to continue 
 some exhortation or appeal to the common sense of women, 
 largely indulged in by young men when the mischief is done. 
 
 " Harrington, do speak to her. She looks upon you as a 
 sort of parson. I can't make her believe I didn't send for
 
 EVAN'S LIGHT BEGINS TO TWINKLE AGAIN. 389 
 
 her. Of course, she knows I'm fond of her. My dear 
 fellow," he whispered, " I shall be ruined if my grandmother 
 hears of it. Get her away, please. Promise anything." 
 
 Evan took her hand and asked for the child. 
 
 " Quite well, sir," faltered Susan. 
 
 "You should not have come here." 
 
 Susan stared, and commenced whimpering: "Didn't you 
 wish it, sir? " 
 
 " Oh, she's always thinking of being made a lady of," 
 cried Polly. " As if Mr. Harry was going to do that. It 
 wants a gentleman to do that." 
 
 " The carriage came for me, sir, in the afternoon," said 
 Susan, plaintively, "with your compliments, and would I 
 come. I thought " 
 
 " What carriage ? " asked Evan. 
 
 Mr. Eaikes, who was ogling PoUy, interposed grandly, 
 " Mine ! " 
 
 " And you sent in my name for this girl to come here ? " 
 Evan turned wrathfully on him. 
 
 " My dear Harrington, when you hit you knock down. 
 The wise require but one dose of experience. The Countess 
 wished it, and I did dispatch." 
 
 " The Countess ! " Harry exclaimed; " Jove ! do you mean 
 to say that the Countess " 
 
 " De Saldar," added Jack. " In Britain none were worthy 
 found." 
 
 Harry gave a long whistle. 
 
 "Leave at once," said Evan to Susan. ""Whatever you 
 may want send to me for. And when you think you can 
 meet your parents, 1 will take you to them. Remember that 
 is what you must do." 
 
 " Make her give up that stupidness of hers, about being 
 made a lady of, Mr. Harrington," said the inveterate Polly. 
 
 Susan here fell a- weeping. 
 
 " I would go, sir," she said. "I'm sure I would obey 
 you: but I can't. I can't go back to the inn. They're 
 beginning to talk about me, because — because I can't — can't 
 pay them, and I'm ashamed " 
 
 Evan looked at Harry.
 
 890 EVAN HAEEINGTON. 
 
 " I forgot," the latter mumbled, but bis face was crimson. 
 He put his hands in his pockets. " Bo you happen to have a 
 note or so ? " he asked. 
 
 Evan took him aside and gave him what he had ; and this 
 amount, without inspection or reserve, Harry offered to 
 Susan. She dashed his hand impetuously from her sight. 
 
 " There, give it to me," said Polly. " Oh, Mr. Harry ! 
 what a young man you are ! " 
 
 Whether from the rebuff, or the reproach, or old feelings 
 reviving, Harry was moved to go forward, and lay his hand 
 on Susan's shoulder and mutter something in her ear that 
 softened her. 
 
 Polly thrust the notes into her bosom, and with a toss of 
 her nose, as who should say, " Here's nonsense they're at 
 again," tapped Susan on the other shoulder, and said impe- 
 riously : " Come, Miss ! " 
 
 Hurrying out a dozen sentences in one, Harry ended by 
 suddenly kissing Susan's cheek, and then Polly bore her 
 away ; and Harry, with great solemnity, said to Evan : 
 
 " 'Pon my honour, I think I ought to ! I declare I think 
 I love that girl. What's one's family ? Why shouldn't you 
 button to the one that just suits you ? That girl, when she's 
 dressed, and in good trim, by Jove ! nobody'd know her from 
 a born lady. And as for grammar, I'd soon teach her 
 that." 
 
 Harry began to whistle vacantly : a sign that he was think- 
 ing his hardest. 
 
 "I confess to being considerably impressed by the maid 
 Wheedle," said Mr. Raikes, very pompously. 
 
 "Would you throw yourself away on her. Jack?" Evan 
 inquired. 
 
 Apparently forgetting his position, Mr. Paikes replied : 
 
 " You ask, perhaps, a little too much of me. One owes 
 some consideration to one's position. In the world's eyes a 
 matrimonial slip outweighs a peccadillo. No. To much the 
 maid might wheedle me, but to Hymen ! She's decidedly 
 fresh and pert — the most delicious little fat lips and cocky 
 nose ; but cease we to dwell on her, or of us two, lo ! one 
 will be undone."
 
 EVAIT'S LIGHT BEGINS TO TWINKLE AGAIN. 391 
 
 Harry burst into a laugh : "Is this the T. P. for Fallow- 
 field ? " 
 
 " M.P. I think you mean," quoth Mr. Raikes, serenely; 
 but a curious glance being directed towards him, and pursu- 
 ing him pertinaciously, it was as if the pediment of the lofty 
 monument Mr. Raikes stood on were smitten with violence. 
 He stammered an excuse, and retreated somewhat as it is 
 tbe fashion to do from the presence of royalty, followed by 
 Harry's roar of laughter, in which Evan cruelly joined. 
 
 " Gracious powers ! " exclaimed the victim of ambition, 
 " I'm laughed at by tbe son of a tailor ! " and he edged once 
 more into the shade of trees. 
 
 It was a strange sight for Harry's relatives to see him 
 arm-in-arm with the man he should have been kicking, 
 challenging, denouncing, or whatever the code prescribes : to 
 see him talking to this young man earnestly, clinging to him 
 affectionately, and when he separated from him, heartily 
 wi'inging his hand. Well might they think that there was 
 something extraordinary in these Harringtons. Convicted of 
 Tailordom, these Harringtons appeared to shine with double 
 lustre. How was it ? They were at a loss to say. They 
 certainly could say that the Countess was egregiously affected 
 and vulgar; but who could be altogether complacent and 
 sincere that had to fight so hard a fight ? In this struggle 
 with society I see one of the instances where success is 
 entirely to be honoured and remains a proof of merit. For 
 however boldly antagonism may storm the ranks of society, it 
 ■will certainly be repelled, whereas affinity cannot be resisted ; 
 and they who, against obstacles of birth, claim and keep their 
 position among the educated and refined> have that affinity. 
 It is, on the whole, rare, so that society is not often invaded. 
 I think it will have to front Jack Cade again before another 
 Old Mel and his progeny shall appear. You refuse to believe 
 in Old Mel ? You know not nature's cunning. 
 
 Mrs. Shorne, Mrs. Melville, Miss Carrington, and many of 
 the guests who observed Evan moving from place to place, 
 after the exposure, as they called it, were amazed at his 
 audacity. There seemed such a quietly superb air about him. 
 He would not look out of his element ; and this, knowing
 
 392 EVAN HAEEINGTON. 
 
 what they knew, was his offence. He deserved some com- 
 mendation for still holding up his head, but it was love and 
 Rose who kept the fires of his heart alive. 
 
 The sun had sunk. The figures on the summit of Par- 
 nassus were seen bobbing in happy placidity against the twi- 
 light sky. The sun had sunk, and many of Mr. Raikes' best 
 things were unspoken. "Wandering about in his gloom, he 
 heard a feminine voice : 
 
 " Yes, I will trust you." 
 
 " You will not repent it," was answered. 
 
 Recognizing the Duke, Mr. Raikes cleared his throat. 
 
 " A-hem, your Grace ! This is how the days should pass. 
 I think we should diurnally station a good London band on 
 high, and play his Majesty to bed — the sun. My opinion is, 
 it would improve the crops. I am not, as yet, a landed pro- 
 prietor " 
 
 The Duke stepped aside with him, and Mr. John Raikes 
 addressed no one for the next twenty minutes. When he 
 next came forth Parnassus was half deserted. It was known 
 that old Mrs. Bonner had been taken with a dangerous 
 attack, and under this third blow the pic-nic succumbed. 
 Simultaneously with the messenger that brought the news to 
 Lady Joeelyn, one approached Evan, and informed him that 
 the Countess de Saldar urgently entreated him to come to the 
 house without delay. He also wished to speak a few words 
 to her, and stepped forward briskly. He had no prophetic 
 intimations of the change this interview would bring upon 
 him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE HERO TAKES HIS EANK IN THE ORCHESTKA. 
 
 The Countess was not in her dressing-room when Evan 
 presented himself. She was in attendance on Mrs. Bonner, 
 Conning said ; and the primness of Conning was a thing to 
 have been noticed by anyone save a dreamy youth in love. 
 Conning remained in the room, keeping distinctly aloof. Her
 
 THE HEEO TAKES HIS RANK IN THE OKCHESTRA. 393 
 
 duties absorbed her, but a presiding thought mechanically 
 jerked back her head from time to time : being the mute 
 form of, " Well, I never ! " in Conning' s rank of life and 
 intellectual capacity. Evan remained quite still in a chair, 
 and Conning was certainly a number of paces beyond suspi- 
 cion, when the Countess appeared, and hurling at the maid 
 one of those feminine looks which contain huge quartos of 
 meaning, vented the cold query : 
 
 " Pray, why did you not come to me, as you were com- 
 manded ? " 
 
 " I was not aware, my lady," Conning drew up to reply, 
 and performed with her eyes a lofty rejection of the volume 
 cast at her, and a threat of several for offensive operations, 
 if need were. 
 
 The Countess spoke nearer to what she was implying : 
 " You know I object to this : it is not the first time." 
 
 "Would your ladyship please to say what your ladyship 
 means ? " 
 
 In return for this insolent challenge to throw off the mask, 
 the Countess felt justified in punishing her by being explicit. 
 "Your irregularities are not of yesterday," she said, kindly 
 making use of a word of double signification still. 
 
 "Thank you, my lady." Conning accepted the word in 
 its blackest meaning. " I am obliged to you. If your lady- 
 ship is to be believed, my character is not worth much. But 
 I can make distinctions, my lady." 
 
 Something very like an altercation was continued in a 
 sharp, brief undertone; and then Evan, waking up to the 
 afi'aii'S of the hour, heard Conning say : 
 
 " I shall not ask your ladyship to give me a character." 
 
 The Countess answering with pathos : "It would, indeed, 
 be to give you one." 
 
 He was astonished that the Couutess should burst into tears 
 when Conning had departed, and yet more so that his effort 
 to console her should bring a bolt of wrath upon himself. 
 
 "Now, Evan, now see what you have done for us — do, 
 and rejoice at it. The very menials insult us. You heard 
 what that creature said ? She can make distinetmis. Oh ! I 
 could beat her. They know it : all the servants know it : I
 
 394 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 can see it in their faces. I feel it when I pass them. The 
 insolent wretches treat us as impostors ; and this Conning — ■ 
 to defy me ! Oh ! it comes of my devotion to you. I am 
 properly chastized. I passed Rose's maid on the stairs, and 
 her reverence was harely perceptible." 
 
 Evan murmured that he was sorry, adding, foolishly : 
 " Do you really care, Louisa, for what servants think and 
 say ? " . 
 
 The Countess sighed deeply : " Oh ! you are too thick- 
 skinned ! Your mother from top to toe ! It is too dreadful ! 
 What have I done to deserve it ? Oh, Evan, Evan ! " 
 
 Her head dropped in her lap. There was something 
 ludicrous to Evan in this excess of grief on account of such a 
 business; but he was tender-hearted, and wrought upon to 
 declare that, whether or not he was to blame for his mother's 
 intrusion that afternoon, he was ready to do what he could 
 to make up to the Countess for her sufferings : whereat the 
 Countess sighed again : asked him what he possibly could do, 
 and doubted his willingness to accede to the most trifling 
 request. 
 
 "No; I do in verity believe that were I to desire you to 
 do aught for your own good alone, you would demur, Van." 
 
 He assured her that she was mistaken. 
 
 ""We shall see," she said. 
 
 " And if once or twice, I have run counter to you, 
 Louisa — " 
 
 "Abominable language ! " cried the Countess, stopping her 
 eai's like a child. " Do not excruciate me so. You laugh! 
 My goodness ! what will you come to I " 
 
 Evan checked his smile, and, taking her hand, said: "I 
 must tell you, that, on the whole, I see nothing to regret in 
 what has happened to-day. You may notice a change in the 
 manners of the servants and some of the country squiresses, 
 but I find none in the bearing of the real ladies, the true 
 gentlemen, to me." 
 
 "Because the change is too fine for you to perceive it," 
 interposed the Countess. 
 
 " Eose, then, and her mother, and her father ! " Evan cried 
 impetuously.
 
 THE HERO TAKES HIS RANK IN THE ORCHESTRA. 395 
 
 "As for Lady Jocelyn ! " the Countess shrugged : "And 
 Sir Franks ! " her head shook : " and Rose, Rose is simply 
 self-willed; a ' she will ' or * she won't ' sort of little person. 
 No criterion ! Henceforth the world is against us. "We have 
 to struggle with it : it does not rank us of it ! " 
 
 " Your feeling on the point is so exaggerated, my dear 
 Louisa," said Evan, " one can't bring reason to your ears. 
 The tattle we shall hear we shall outlive. I care extremely 
 for the good opinion of men, but I prefer my own ; and I do 
 not lose it because my father was in trade." 
 
 "And your own name, Evan Harrington, is on a shop," the 
 Countess struck in, and watched him severely from under her 
 brow, glad to mark that he could still blush. 
 
 "Oh, heaven!" she wailed to increase the effect, " on a 
 shop ! a brother of mine ! " 
 
 " Yes, Louisa, it is so. It may not last .... I did it — 
 is it not better that a son should blush, than cast dishonour 
 on his father's memory ? " 
 
 " Ridiculous boy-notion ! " 
 
 "Rose has pardoned it, Louisa — cannot you? I find that 
 the naturally vulgar and narrow-headed people, and cowards 
 who never forego mean advantages, are those only who would 
 condemn me and my conduct in that." 
 
 "And you have joy in your fraction of the world left to 
 you ! " exclaimed his female-elder. 
 
 Changing her manner to a winning softness, she said : 
 " Let me also belong to the very small party ! You have 
 been really romantic, and most generous and noble ; only the 
 shop smells ! But, never mind, promise me you will not 
 enter it." 
 
 " I hope not," said Evan. 
 
 " You do hope that you will not officiate ? Oh, Evan ! the 
 eternal contemplation of gentlemen's legs! think of that! 
 Think of yourself sculptured in that attitude ! A fine young 
 man I " Innumerable little pricks and stings shot over Evan's 
 skin. 
 
 " There — there, Louisa ! " he said, impatiently ; " spare 
 your ridicule. "We go to London to-morrow, and when there 
 I expect to hear that I have an appointment, and that thia
 
 896 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 engagement is over." He rose and walked up and down the 
 room. 
 
 " I shall not be prepared to go to-morrow," remarked the 
 Countess, drawing her figure up stiffly. 
 
 " Oh ! well, if you can stay, Andrew will take charge of 
 you, I dare say." 
 
 "'No, my dear, Andrew will not — a nonentity cannot — 
 you must." 
 
 "Impossible, Louisa," said Evan, as one who imagines he 
 is uttering a thing of little consequence. " I promised 
 Eose." 
 
 " You promised Rose that yoa would abdicate and retire ? 
 Sweet, loving girl ! " 
 
 Evan made no answer. 
 
 " You will stay with me, Evan." 
 
 " I really can't," he said in his previous careless tone. 
 
 " Come and sit down," cried the Countess, imperiously. 
 " The first trifle is refused. It does not astonish me. I will 
 honour you now by talking seriously to you. I have treated 
 you hitherto as a child. Or, no — " she stopped her mouth; 
 "it is enough if I tell you, dear, that poor Mrs. Bonner is 
 dying, and that she desires my attendance on her to refresh 
 her spirit with readings on the Prophecies, and Scriptural 
 converse. No other soul in the house can so soothe her." 
 
 " Then stay," said Evan. 
 
 " Unprotected in the midst of enemies ! Truly ! " 
 
 "I think, Louisa, if you can call Lady Jocelyn an enemy, 
 you must read the Scriptures by a false light." 
 
 "The woman is an utter heathen I " interjected the Coun- 
 tess. "An infidel can be no friend. She is therefore the 
 reverse. Her opinions embitter her mother's last days. But 
 now you will consent to remain with me, dear Van ! " 
 
 An implacable negative responded to the urgent appeal of 
 her eyes. 
 
 "By the way," he said, for a diversion, "did you know of 
 a girl stopping at an inn in Fallowfield ? " 
 
 "Know a barmaid?" the Countess's eyes and mouth 
 were wide at the question. 
 
 " Did you send Eaikes for her to-day ? "
 
 THE HERO TAKES HIS RANK IN THE ORCHESTRA. 397 
 
 "Did Mr. Raikes — ah, Evan! that creature reminds me, 
 you have no sense of contrast. For a Brazilian ape — he 
 resembles, if he is not truly one — what contrast is he to 
 an English gentleman ! His proximity and acquaintance — 
 rich as he may be — disfigure you. Study contrast ! " 
 
 Evan had to remind her that she had not answered him : 
 whereat she exclaimed: "One would really think you had 
 never been abroad. Have you not evaded me, rather ? " 
 
 The Countess commenced fanning her languid brows, and 
 then pursued : " Now, my dear brother, I may conclude that 
 you will acquiesce in my moderate wishes. You remain. 
 My venerable friend cannot last three days. She is on the 
 brink of a better world ! I will confide to you that it is of 
 the utmost importance we should be here, on the spot, until 
 the sad termination ! That is what I summoned you for. 
 You are now at liberty. Ta-ta, as soon as you please." 
 
 She had baffled his little cross-examination with regard to 
 Mr. Eaikes, but on the other point he was firm. She would 
 listen to nothing : she aflPected that her mandate had gone 
 forth, and must be obeyed ; tapped with her foot, fanned 
 deliberately, and was a consummate queen, till he turned the 
 handle of the door, when her complexion deadened, she' 
 started up, trembling, and tripping towards him, caught him 
 by the arm, and said : " Stop ! After all that I have sacri- 
 ficed for you ! As well try to raise the dead as a Dawley 
 from the dust he grovels in ! Why did I consent to visit this 
 place ? It was for you. I came, I heard that you had dis- 
 graced yourself in drunkenness at Fallowfield, and I toiled to 
 eclipse that, and I did. Young Jocelyn thought you were 
 what you are : I could spit the word at you ! and I dazzled 
 him to give you time to win this minx, who wiU spin you 
 like a top if you get her. That Mr. Forth knew it as well, 
 and that vile young Laxley. They are gone ! Why are they 
 gone ? Because they thwarted me — they crossed your inte- 
 rests — I said they should go. George Uploft is going to-day. 
 The house is left to us ; and I believe firmly that Mrs. Bon- 
 ner's will contains a memento of the eff'ect of our frequent 
 religious conversations. So you would leave now? I suspect 
 nobody, but we are all human, and AVills would not have been
 
 898 EVAN HARRmGTON. 
 
 tampered with for the first time. Besides," and the Coun- 
 tess's imagination wai-med till she addressed her brother as a 
 confederate, "we shall then see to whom Beekley Court is 
 bequeathed. Either way it may be yours. Tours, and you 
 suffer their plots to drive you forth. Do you not perceive 
 that Mama was brought here to-day on purpose to shame us 
 and cast us out ? "We are surrounded by conspiracies, but ii 
 our faith is pure who can hurt us ? If I had not that conso- 
 lation — would that you had it, too ! — would it be endurable 
 to me to see those menials whispering and showing their 
 forced respect? As it is, I am fortified to forgive them, j 
 breathe another atmosphere. Oh, Evan ! you did not attend 
 to Mr. Parsley's beautiful last sermon. The Chuixh should 
 have been your vocation." 
 
 From vehemence the Countess had subsided to a mournful 
 gentleness. She had been too excited to notice any changes 
 in her brother's face during her speech, and when he turned 
 from the door, and still eyeing her fixedly, led her to a chair, 
 she fancied from his silence that she had subdued and con- 
 vinced him. A delicious sense of her power, succeeded by a 
 weary reflection that she had constantly to employ it, occupied 
 her mind, and when presently she looked up from the shade 
 of her hand, it was to agitate her head pitifully at her brother. 
 " All this you have done for me, Louisa," he said. 
 " Yes, Evan, — all ! " she fell into his tone. 
 " And you are the cause of Laxley's going ? Did you 
 know anything of that anonymous letter ? " 
 
 He was squeezing her hand — with grateful affection, as she 
 was deluded to imagine. 
 
 " Perhaps, dear, — a little," her conceit prompted her to 
 admit. 
 
 " Did you write it? " 
 
 He gazed intently into her eyes, and as the question shot 
 like a javelin, she tried ineffectually to disengage her fingers; 
 her delusion waned ; she took fright, but it was too late ; he 
 had struck the truth out of her before she could speak. Her 
 spirit writhed like a snake in his hold. Innumerable things 
 she was ready to say, and strove to ; the words would not 
 form on her lips.
 
 THE HERO TAKES HIS RANK IN THE ORCHESTRA. 399 
 
 " I will be answered, Louisa." 
 
 The stern imperious manner he had assumed gave her no 
 hope of eluding him. With an inward gasp, and a sensation 
 of nakedness altogether new to her, dismal, and alarming, she 
 felt that she could not lie. Like a creature forsaken of her 
 staunchest friend, she could have flung herself to the floor. 
 The next instant her natural courage restored her. She 
 jumped up and stood at bay. 
 
 "Yes. I did." 
 
 And now he was weak, and she was strong, and used her 
 strength. 
 
 " I wrote it to save you. Tes. Call on your Creator, and 
 be my judge, if you dare. Never, never will you meet a 
 soul more utterly devoted to you, Evan. This Mr. Forth, 
 this Laxley, I said, should go, because they were resolved to 
 ruin you, and make you base. They are gone. The respon- 
 sibility I take on myself. Nightly — during the remainder of 
 my days — I will pray for pardon." 
 
 He raised his head to ask sombrely : "Is your handwriting 
 likeLaxley's?" 
 
 "It seems so," she answered, with a pitiful sneer for one 
 who could arrest her exaltation to inquire about minutiae. 
 " Eight or wrong, it is done, and if you choose to be my 
 judge, think whether your own conscience is clear. "Why 
 did you come here ? Why did you stay ? You have 
 your free will, — do you deny that? Oh, I will take the 
 entire blame, but you must not be a hj'pocrite, Yan. You 
 know you were aware. We had no confidences. I was 
 obliged to treat you like a child; but for you to pretend to 
 suppose that roses grow in your path — oh, that is paltry ! 
 You are a hypocrite or an imbecile, if that is your course." 
 
 Was he not something of the former ? The luxurious mist 
 in which he had been living, dispersed before his sister's 
 bitter words, and, as she designed he should, he felt himself 
 her accomplice. But, again, reason struggled to enlighten 
 him ; for surely he would never have done a thing so dispro- 
 portionate to the end to be gained ! It was the unconnected 
 action of his brain that thus advised him. No thoroughly- 
 fashioned, cleai'-spirited man conceives wickedness impossible
 
 400 EVAN HAEKINGTON. 
 
 to him : but wickedness so largely mixed with folly, the 
 best of us may reject as not among our temptations. Evan, 
 since his love had dawned, had begun to talk with his own 
 nature, and though he knew not yet how much it would 
 stretch or contract, he knew that he was weak and could not 
 perform moral wonders without severe struggles. The cynic 
 may add, if he likes — or without potent liquors. 
 
 Could he be his sister's judge ? It is dangerous for young 
 men to be too good. They are so sweeping in their condem- 
 nations : so sublime in their conceptions of excellence, and 
 the most finished Puritan cannot out-do their demands upon 
 frail humanity. Evan's momentary self-examination saved 
 him from this, and he told the Countess, with a sort of cold 
 compassion, that he himself dared not blame her. 
 
 His tone was distinctly wanting in admiration of her, but 
 she was somewhat over-wrought, and leaned her shoulder 
 against him, and became immediately his affectionate, only 
 too-zealous, sister ; dearly to be loved, to be forgiven, to be 
 prized : and on condition of inserting a special petition for 
 pardon in her orisons, to live with a calm conscience, and to 
 be allowed to have her own way with him during the rest of 
 her days. 
 
 It was a happy union — a picture that the Countess was 
 lured to admire in the glass. 
 
 Sad that so small a murmur should destroy it for 
 ever! 
 
 " What ? " cried the Countess, bursting from his arm. 
 
 " Go?" she emphasised with the hardness of determined 
 unbelief, as if plucking the words, one by one, out of her 
 reluctant ears. " (xo to Lady Jocelyn, and tell her I wrote 
 the letter ? " 
 
 " You can do no less, I fear," said Evan, eyeing the floor 
 and breathing a deep breath. 
 
 " Then I did hear you correctly ? Oh, you must be mad 
 — idiotic ! There, pray go away, Evan. Come in the morn- 
 ing. You are too much for my nerves." 
 
 Evan rose, putting out his hand as if to take hers and 
 plead with her. She rejected the first motion, and repeated 
 her desire for him to leave her ; saying, cheerfully :
 
 THE HERO TAKES HIS RANK IN THE ORCHESTRA. 401 
 
 "Good night, dear; I dare say we shan't meet till the 
 morning." 
 
 "You can't let this injustice continue a single night, 
 Louisa ? " said he. 
 
 She was deep in the business of arranging a portion of liei 
 attire. 
 
 "Go — go; please," she responded. 
 
 Lingering, he said : " If I go, it will be straight to Lady 
 Jocelyn. 
 
 She stamped angrily, 
 
 " Only go ! " and then she found him gone, and she stooped 
 lower to the glass to mark if the recent agitation were ob- 
 servable under her eyes. There, looking at herself, her heart 
 dropped heavily in her bosom. She ran to the door and 
 hurried swiftly after Evan, pulling him back speechlessly. 
 
 " Where are you going, Evan ? " 
 
 " To Lady Jocelyn." 
 
 The unhappy victim of her devotion stood panting. 
 
 " If you go, I — I take poison ! " 
 
 It was for him now to be struck ; but he was suffering too 
 strong an anguish to be susceptible to mock tragedy. The 
 Countess paused to study him. She began to fear her 
 brother. "I will ! " she reiterated wildly, without moving 
 him at all. And the quiet inflexibility of his face forbade 
 the ultimate hope which lies in giving men a dose of hysterics 
 when they are obstinate. She tried by taunts and angry 
 vituperations to make him look jS.erce, if but an instant, to 
 precipitate her into an exhibition she was so well prepared for. 
 
 " Evan ! what ! after all my love, my confidence in you 
 — I need not have told you — to expose us ! Brother ? would 
 you? Oh!" 
 
 "I will not let this last another hour," said Evan, firmly, 
 at the same time seeking to caress her. She spurned his 
 fruitless affection, feeling, nevertheless, how cruel was her 
 fate ; for, with any other save a brother, she had arts at her 
 disposal to melt the manliest resolutions. The glass showed 
 her that her face was pathetically pale ; the tones of her 
 voice were rich and harrowing. What did they avail with a 
 brother ?
 
 402 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 " Promise me," she cried eagerly, "promise me to stop 
 here — on this spot — till I return." 
 
 The promise was extracted. The Countess went to fetch 
 Caroline. 
 
 Evan did not count the minutes. One thought was mount- 
 ing in his brain — the scorn of Eose. He felt that he had 
 lost her. Lost her when he had just won her ! He felt it, 
 Avithout realizing it. The first blows of an immense grief 
 are dull, and strike the heart through wool, as it were. The 
 belief of the young in their sorrow has to be flogged into 
 them, on the good old educational principle. Could he do 
 less than this he was about to do ? Rose had wedded her 
 noble nature to him, and it was as much her spirit as his 
 own that urged him thus to forfeit her, to be worthy of her 
 by assuming unworthiness. There he sat neither conning 
 over his determination nor the cause for it, revolving Eose's 
 words about Laxley, and nothing else. The words were so 
 sweet and so bitter ; every now and then the heavy smiting 
 on his heart set it quivering and leaping, as the whip starts 
 a jaded horse. 
 
 Meantime the Countess was participating in a witty con- 
 versation in the drawing-room with Sir John and the Duke, 
 Miss Current, and others ; and it was not till after she had 
 displayed many graces, and, as one or two ladies presumed to 
 consider, marked effrontery, that she rose and drew Caroline 
 away with her. Returning to her dressing-room, she found 
 that Evan had faithfully kept his engagement ; he was on the 
 exact spot where she had left him. 
 
 Caroline came to him swiftly, and put her hand to his 
 forehead that she might the better peruse his features, saying, 
 in her mellow caressing voice : " What is this, dear Van, 
 that you wiU do ? Why do you look so wretched ? " 
 
 " Has not Louisa told you ? " 
 
 "She has told me something, dear, but I don't know what 
 it is. That you are going to expose us ? What further 
 exposure do we need ? I'm sure. Van, my pride — what I 
 had — is gone. I have none left ! " 
 
 Evan kissed her brows warmly. An explanation, full of 
 the Countess's passionate outcries of justification, necessity,
 
 THE HERO TAKES HIS RANK IN THE ORCHESTRA. 403 
 
 and innocence in higher than fleshly eyes, was given, and 
 then the three were silent. 
 
 "But, Van," Caroline commenced, deprecatingly, "my 
 darling ! of what use — now ! Whether right or wrong, why 
 should you, why should you, when the thing is done, dear ? 
 —think ! " 
 
 " And you, too, would let another suffer under an unjust 
 accusation ?" said Evan. 
 
 " But, dearest, it is surely your duty to think of your 
 family first. Have we not been afflicted enough? Why 
 should you lay us under this fresh burden ? " 
 
 " Because it's better to bear all now than a life of remorse," 
 answered Evan. 
 
 " But this Mr. Laxley — I cannot pity him ; he has behaved 
 so insolently to you throughout ! Let him suffer." 
 
 "Lady Jocelyn," said Evan, "has been unintentionally 
 unjust to him, and after her kindness — apart from the right 
 or wrong — I will not — I can't allow her to continue 
 so." 
 
 " After her kindness ! " echoed the Countess, who had been 
 fuming at Caroline's weak expostulations. " Kindness ! have 
 I not done ten times for these Jocelyns what they have done 
 for us ? mio Deus ! why, I have bestowed on them the 
 membership for Fallowfield : I have saved her from being a 
 convicted liar this very day. Worse ! for what would have 
 been talked of the morals of the house, supposing the scandal. 
 Oh ! indeed I was tempted to bring that horrid mad Captain 
 into the house face to face with his flighty doll of a wife, as 
 I, perhaps, should have done, acting by the dictates of my 
 conscience. I lied for Lady Jocelyn, and handed the man to 
 a lawyer, who withdrew him. And this they owe to me ! 
 Kindness P they have given us bed and board, as the people 
 say. I have repaid them for that." 
 
 " Pray be silent, Louisa," said Evan, getting up hastily, 
 for the sick sensation Rose had experienced came over him. 
 His sister's plots, her untruth, her coarseness, clung to him 
 and seemed part of his blood. He now had a personal desire 
 to cut himself loose from the wretched entanglement revealed 
 to him, whatever it cost. 
 
 D D 2
 
 404 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 " Are you really, truly going ? " Caroline exclaimed, for 
 he "was near the door. 
 
 " At a quarter to twelve at night ! " sneered the Countess, 
 still imagining that he, like herself, must be partly acting. 
 
 " But, Yan, is it — dearest, think ! is it manly for a brother 
 to go and tell of his sister ? And how would it look ? " 
 
 Evan smiled. "Is it that that makes you unhappy ? 
 Louisa's name will not be mentioned — be sure of that." 
 
 Caroline was stooping forward to him. Her figure straight- 
 ened : " Good Heaven, Evan! you are not going to take it 
 on yourself ? Eose ! — she will hate you." 
 
 " God help me ! " he cried internally. 
 
 " Oh, Evan, darling ! consider, reflect ! " She fell on her 
 knees, catching his hand. "It is worse for us that you 
 should suffer, dearest ! Think of the dreadful meanness and 
 baseness of what you will have to acknowledge." 
 
 " Yes I " sighed the youth, and his eyes, in his extreme 
 pain, turned to the Countess reproachfully. 
 
 "Think, dear," Caroline hurried on, " he gains nothing 
 for whom you do this — you lose all. It is not your deed. 
 You will have to speak an untruth. Your ideas are wrong — 
 wrong, I know they are. Yoa will have to lie. But if you 
 are silent, the little, little blame that may attach to us will pass 
 away, and we shall be happy in seeing our brother happy." 
 
 "You are talking to Evan as if he had religion," said the 
 Countess, with steady sedateness. And at that moment, 
 from the sublimity of his pagan virtue, the young man 
 groaned for some pure certain light to guide him : the ques- 
 tion whether he was about to do right made him weak. He 
 took Caroline's head between his two hands, and kissed her 
 mouth. The act brought Rose to his senses insufferably, and 
 she — his Goddess of truth and his sole guiding light — spurred 
 him afresh. 
 
 " The dishonour of my family, Caroline, is mine, and on 
 me the public burden of it rests. Say nothing more — don't 
 think of me. I will not be moved from what I have resolved. 
 I go to Lady Jocelyn to-night. To-morrow we leave, and 
 there's the end. Louisa, if you have any new schemes for 
 my welfare, I beg you to renounce them."
 
 A PAGAN SACRIFICE. 405 
 
 " Gratitude I never expected from a Dawley ! " the 
 Countess retorted. 
 
 "Oh, Louisa! he is going! "cried Caroline; "kneel to 
 him with me : stop him : Rose loves him, and he is going to 
 make her hate him." 
 
 " You can't talk reason to one who's mad," said the 
 Countess, more like the Dawley she sprang from than it 
 would have pleased her to know. 
 
 " My darling ! My own Evan ! it will kill me," Caroline 
 exclaimed, and passionately imploring him, she looked so 
 hopelessly beautiful, that Evan was agitated, and caressed 
 her, while he said, softly : " Where our honour is not involved 
 I would submit to your smallest wish." 
 
 '* It involves my life — my destiny ! " murmured Caroline. 
 
 Could he have known the double meaning in her words, 
 and what a saving this sacrifice of his was to accomplish, he 
 would not have turned to do it feeling abandoned of heaven 
 and earth. 
 
 The Countess stood rigidly as he went forth. Caroline 
 was on her knees, sobbing. 
 
 " The dishonour of my family is mine, and on me tho 
 burden of it rests." 
 
 That was the chant that rose in Caroline's bosom. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 A PAGAN SACKIFICE. 
 
 Three steps from the Countess's chamber door, the knot 
 of Evan's resolution began to slacken. The clear light of his 
 simple duty grew cloudy and complex. His pride would 
 not let him think that he was shrinking, but cried out in 
 him, " Will you be believed ? " and whispered that few would 
 believe him guilty of such an act. Yet, while something 
 said that full surely Lady Jocelyn would not, a vague dread 
 that Rose might, threw him back on the luxury of her love
 
 406 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 and faith in him. He found himself hoping that his state- 
 ment would be laughed at. Then why make it ? 
 
 No : that was too blind a hope. Many would take him at 
 his word ; all — all save Lady Jocelyn ! Eose the first ! 
 Because he stood so high with her now he feared the fall. 
 Ah, dazzling pinnacle ! our darlings shoot us up on a 
 wondrous juggler's pole, and we talk familiarly to the stars, 
 and are so much above everybody, and try to walk like 
 creatures with two legs, forgetting that we have but a pin's 
 point to stand on up there. Probably the absence of natural 
 motion inspires the prophecy that we must ultimately come 
 down : our unused legs wax morbidly restless. Evan thought 
 it good that Rose should lift her head to look at him ; never- 
 theless, he knew that Rose would turn from him the moment 
 he descended from his superior station. Nature is wise in 
 her young children, though they wot not of it, and are always 
 trying to rush away from her. They escape their wits sooner 
 than their instincts. 
 
 But was not Rose involved in him, and part of him ? Had 
 he not sworn never to renounce her ? What was this but a 
 betrayal ? 
 
 Go on, young man : fight your fight. The little imps 
 pluck at you : the big giant assails you : the seductions of 
 the soft-mouthed siren are not wanting. Slacken the knot 
 an instant, and they will all have play. And the worst is, 
 that you may be wrong, and they may be right ! Por is it, 
 can it be proper for you to stain the silvery whiteness of your 
 skin by plunging headlong into yonder pitch-bath ? Con- 
 sider the defilement ! Contemplate your hideous aspect on 
 issuing from that black baptism ! 
 
 As to the honour of your family, Mr. Evan Harrington, pray, 
 of what sort of metal consists the honour of a tailor's family ? 
 
 One little impertinent imp ventured upon that question on 
 his own account. The clever beast was torn back and 
 strangled instantaneously by his experienced elders, but not 
 before Evan's pride had answered him. Exalted by Love, 
 he could dread to abase himself and strip off his glittering 
 garments ; lowered by the world, he fell back upon his innate 
 worth.
 
 A PAGAN SACRIFICE. 407 
 
 Yes, he was called on to prove it ; he was on his way to 
 prove it. Surrendering his dearest and his best, casting aside 
 his dreams, his desires, his aspirations, for this stern duty, he 
 at least would know that he made himself doubly worthy of 
 her who abandoned him, and the world would scorn him by 
 reason of his absolute merit. Coming to this point, the knot 
 of his resolve tightened again ; he hugged it with the furious 
 zeal of a martyr. 
 
 Religion, the lack of which in him the Countess deplored, 
 would have guided him and silenced the internal strife. But 
 do not despise a virtue purely Pagan. The young who can 
 act readily up to the Christian light are happier, doubtless : 
 but they are led, they are passive : I think they do not make 
 such capital Christians subsequently. They are never in such 
 danger, we know; but some in the flock are more than sheep. 
 The heathen ideal it is not so very easy to attain, and those 
 who mount from it to the Christian have, in my humble 
 thought, a firmer footing. 
 
 So Evan fought his hard fight from the top of the stairs to 
 the bottom. A Pagan, which means our poor unsupported 
 flesh, is never certain of his victory. Now you will see him 
 kneeling to his Gods, and anon drubbing them ; or he makes 
 them fight for him, and is complacent at the issue. Evan 
 had ceased to pick his knot with one hand and pull it with 
 the other : but not finding Lady Jocelyn below, and hearing 
 that she had retired for the night, he mounted the stairs, and 
 the strife recommenced from the bottom to the top. Strange 
 to say, he was almost unaware of any struggle going on 
 within him. The suggestion of the foolish little imp alone 
 was loud in the heart of his consciousness ; the rest hung 
 more in his nerves than in his brain. He thought : " Well, 
 I will speak it out to her in the morning;" and thought so 
 sincerely, while an ominous sigh of relief at the reprieve rose 
 from his over-bardened bosom. 
 
 Hardly had the weary deep breath taken flight, when thft 
 figure of Lady Jocelyn was seen advancing along the corridor, 
 with a lamp in her hand. She trod heavily, in a kind of 
 march, as her habit was; her large fully-open grey eyes look- 
 ing straight ahead. She would have passed him, and he
 
 408 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 would have let her pass, but seeing the unusual pallor on her 
 face, his love for this lady moved him to step forward and 
 express a hope that she had no present cause for sorrow. 
 
 Hearing her mother's name. Lady Jocelyn was about to 
 return a conventional answer. Recognizing Evan, she 
 said: 
 
 "Ah! Mr. Harrington ! Yes, I fear it's as bad as it can be. 
 She can scarcely outlive the night." 
 
 Again he stood alone : his chance was gone. How could 
 he speak to her in her affliction ? Her calm sedate visage 
 had the beauty of its youth, when lighted by the animation 
 that attends meetings or farewells. In her bow to Evan, he 
 beheld a lovely kindness more unique, if less precious, than 
 anything he had ever seen on the face of Rose. Half ex- 
 ultingly, he reflected that no opportunity would be allowed 
 him now to teach that noble head and truest of human hearts 
 to turn from him : the clear-eyed morrow would come : the 
 days of the future would be bright as other days! 
 
 Wrapped in the comfort of his cowardice, he started to see 
 Lady Jocelyn advancing to him again. 
 
 "Mr. Harrington," she said, "Rose tells me you leave us 
 early in the morning. I may as well shake your hand now. 
 We part very good friends. I shall always be glad to hear 
 of you." 
 
 Evan pressed her hand, and bowed. " I thank you, 
 madam," was all he could answer. 
 
 " It will be better if you don't write to Rose." 
 
 Her tone was rather that of a request than an injunction. 
 
 " I have no right to do so, madam." 
 
 " She considers that you have : I wish her to have a fair 
 trial." 
 
 " Madam ! " His voice quavered. The philosophic lady 
 thought it time to leave him. 
 
 " So good-bye. I can trust you without extracting a pro- 
 mise. If you ever have need of a friend, you know you are 
 at liberty to write to me." 
 
 " You are tired, my lady ? " He put this question more 
 to dally with what he ought to be saying. 
 
 " Tolerably. Your sister, the Countess, relieves me in the
 
 A PAGAN SACRIFICE. 409 
 
 night. I fancy my mother finds her the better nurse of the 
 two." 
 
 Lady Jocelyn's face lighted in its gracious pleasant way, as 
 she just, inclined her head : but the mention of the Countess 
 and her attendance on Mrs. Bonner had nerved Evan : the 
 contrast of her hypocrisy and vile scheming with this most 
 open, noble nature, acted like a new force within him. He 
 begged Lady Jocelyn's permission to speak with her in 
 private. Marking his fervid appearance, she looked at him 
 seriously. 
 
 " Is it really important ? " 
 
 " I cannot rest, madam, till it is spoken." 
 
 "I mean, it doesn't pertain to the delirium? We may 
 sleep upon that." 
 
 He divined her sufficiently to answer : "It concerns a 
 piece of injustice done by you, madam, and which I can help 
 you to set right." 
 
 Lady Jocelyn stai'ed somewhat. " Follow me into my 
 dressing-room," she said, and led the way. 
 
 Escape was no longer possible. He was on the march to 
 execution, and into the darkness of his brain danced Mr. 
 John Raikes, with his grotesque tribulations. It was the 
 harsh savour of reality that conjured up this flighty being, 
 who probably never felt a sorrow or a duty. The farce Jack 
 lived was all that Evan's tragic bitterness could revolve, and 
 seemed to be the only light in his mind. You might have 
 seen a smile on his mouth when he was ready to ask for a 
 bolt from heaven to crush him. 
 
 "Now," said her ladyship, and he found that the four 
 walls enclosed them, " what have I been doing? " 
 
 She did not bid him be seated. Her brevity influenced 
 him to speak to the point. 
 
 "You have dismissed Mr. Laxley, madam : he is innocent." 
 
 " How do you know that ? " 
 
 "Because, madam," — a whirl of sensations beset the 
 wretched youth, — " because I am guilty." 
 
 His words had run ahead of his wits ; and in answer to 
 Lady Jocelyn's singular exclamation he could but simply 
 repeat them.
 
 410 EVAN HARmNGTON. 
 
 Her head drew back ; her face was slightly raised ; she 
 looked, as he had seen her sometimes look at the Countess, 
 with a sort of speculative amazement. 
 
 " And why do you come to tell me ? " 
 
 " Por the reason that I cannot allow you to be unjust, 
 madam." 
 
 " What on earth was your motive ? " 
 
 Evan stood silent, flinching from her frank eyes. 
 
 " Well, well, well ! " Her ladyship dropped into a chair, 
 and thumped her knees. 
 
 There was lawyer's blood in Lady Jocelyn's veins: she had 
 the judicial mind. A confession was to her a confession. 
 She tracked actions up to a motive; but one who came 
 voluntarily to confess needed no sifting. She had the habit 
 of treating things spoken as facts. 
 
 " You absolutely wrote that letter to Mrs. Evremonde's 
 husband ! " 
 
 Evan bowed, to avoid hearing his own lie. 
 
 " You discovered his address and wrote to him, and imitated 
 Mr. Laxley's handwriting, to effect the purpose you may 
 have had?" 
 
 Her credulity did require his confirmation of it, and he 
 repeated; "It is my deed, madam." 
 
 "Hum! And you sent that premonitory slip of paper to 
 her?" 
 
 " To Mrs. Evremonde, madam ? " 
 
 " Somebody else was the author of that, perhaps ? " 
 
 " Madam, it is all on me." 
 
 " In that case, Mr. Harrington, I can only say that it's 
 quite right you should quit this house to-morrow morning." 
 
 Her ladyship commenced rocking in her chair, and then 
 added: "May I ask, have you madness in your family? 
 No? Because when one can't discern a motive, it's natural 
 to ascribe certain acts to madness. Had Mrs. Evremonde 
 offended you? or Ferdinand — but one only hears of such 
 practices towards fortunate rivals, and now you have come to 
 undo what you did ! I must admit that, taking the mon- 
 strousness of the act and the inconsequence of your proceed 
 ings together, the whole affair becomes more incomprehensible
 
 A PAGAN SACRIFICE. 411 
 
 to me than it was before. Would it be unpleasant to you to 
 favour me with explanations ? " 
 
 She saw the pain her question gave him, and, passing it, 
 said: 
 
 "Of course you need not be told that Rose must hear of 
 this ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Evan, " she must hear it." 
 
 "You know what that's equivalent to ? But, if you like, 
 I" will not speak to her till you have left us." 
 
 "Instantly," cried Evan. "Now — to-night, madam! I 
 would not have her live a minute in a false estimate of me." 
 
 Had Lady Jocelyn's intellect been as penetrating as it was 
 masculine, she would have taken him and turned him inside out 
 in a very short time ; for one who would bear to see his love 
 look coldly on him rather than endure a minute's false esti- 
 mate of his character, and who could yet stoop to concoct a 
 vile plot, must either be mad or simulating the baseness for 
 some reason or other. She perceived no motive for the latter, 
 and she held him to be sound in the head, and what was 
 spoken from the mouth she accepted. Perhaps, also, she saw 
 in the complication thus offered an escape for Rose, and was 
 the less inclined to elucidate it herself. But if her intellect 
 was baffled, her heart was unerring. A man proved guilty of 
 writing an anonymous letter would not have been allowed 
 to stand long in her room. She would have shown him to 
 the door of the house speedily; and Evan was aware in 
 his soul that he had not fallen materially in her esteem. 
 He had puzzled and confused her, and partly because she 
 had the feeling that this young man was entirely trust- 
 worthy, and because she never relied on her feelings, she 
 let his own words condemn him, and did not personally 
 discard him. In fact, she was a veritable philosopher. She 
 permitted her fellows to move the world on as they would, 
 and had no other passions in the contemplation of the show 
 than a cultured audience will usually exhibit. 
 
 " Strange, — most strange ! I thought I was getting old ! " 
 she said, and eyed the culprit as judges generally are not 
 wont to do. " It will be a shock to Hose. I must tell you 
 that I can't regret it. I would not have employed force with
 
 412 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 her, but I should have given her as strong a taste of the world 
 as it was in my power to give. Girls get their reason from 
 society. But, come ! if you think you can make your case 
 out better to her, you shall speak to her first yourself." 
 
 "No, madam," said Evan, softly. 
 
 " You would rather not ? " 
 
 "I could not." 
 
 " But, I suppose, she'll want to speak to you when she 
 knows it." 
 
 " Then she will — madam ! I can take death from her 
 hands, but T cannot slay myself." 
 
 The language was natural to his condition, though the note 
 was pitched high. Lady Jocelyn hummed till the sound of it 
 was over, and an idea striking her, she said : 
 
 " Ah, by the way, have you any tremendous moral 
 notions ? " 
 
 " I don't think I have, madam." 
 
 " People act on that mania sometimes, / believe. Do you 
 think it an outrage on decency for a wife to run away from a 
 mad husband whom they won't shut up, and take shelter 
 with a friend ? Is that the cause ? Mr. Forth is an old 
 friend of mine. I would trust my daughter with him in a 
 desert, and stake my hand on his honour." 
 
 " Oh, Lady Jocelyn ! " cried Evan. " Would to God you 
 might ever have said that of me ! Madam, I love you. I 
 shall never see you again. I shall never meet one to treat me 
 so generously. I leave you, blackened in character — you 
 cannot think of me without contempt. I can never hope that 
 this will change. But, for your kindness let me thank you." 
 
 And as speech is poor where emotion is extreme — and he 
 knew his own to be especially so — he took her hand with 
 petitioning eyes, and dropping on one knee, reverentially 
 kissed it. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn was human enough to like to be appreciated. 
 She was a veteran Pagan, and may have had the instinct that 
 a peculiar virtue in his young one was the spring of his con- 
 duct. She stood up and said: "Don't forget that you have 
 a friend here." 
 
 The poor youth had to turn his head from her.
 
 ROSE WOUNDED. 413 
 
 " You wisli that I should tell Eose what you have tuld 
 me at once, Mr. Harrington ? " 
 
 " Yes, my lady ; I beg that you will do so." 
 
 "WeU!" 
 
 And the queer look Lady Jocelyn had been wearing dimpled 
 into absolute wonder. A stranger to Love's cunning, she 
 marvelled why he should desire to witness the scorn Eose 
 would feel for him. 
 
 " If she's not asleep, then, she shall hear it now," said her 
 ladyship. " You understand that it will be mentioned to no 
 other person." 
 
 " Except to Mr. Laxley, madam, to whom I shall offer the 
 satisfaction he may require. But I will undertake that." 
 
 "Just as you think proper on that matter," remarked her 
 philosophical ladyship, who held that man was a figbting 
 animal, and must not have his nature repressed. 
 
 She lighted him part of the way, and then turned off to 
 Rose's chamber. 
 
 "Would Eose believe it of him ? Love combated his dismal 
 foreboding. Strangely, too, now that he had plunged into 
 his pitch-bath, the guilt seemed to cling to him, and instead 
 of hoping serenely, or fearing steadilj^ his spirit fell in a kind 
 of abject supplication to Eose, and blindly trusted that she 
 would still love even if she believed him base. In his weak- 
 ness he fell so low as to pray that she might love that 
 crawling reptile who could creep into a house and shrink 
 from no vileness to win her. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 ROSE WOUNDED. 
 
 The light of morning was yet cold along the passages of 
 the house when Polly "Wheedle, hurrying to her young 
 mistress, met her loosely dressed and with a troubled face. 
 " "What's the matter, Polly? I was coming to you." 
 " 0, Miss Eose ! and I was coming to you. Miss Bonner's
 
 414 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 gone back to her convulsions again. She's had them all 
 night. Her hair won't last till thirty, if she keeps on giving 
 way to temper, as I tell her: and I know that from a 
 barber." 
 
 " Tush, you stupid PoUy ! Does she want to see me ? " 
 
 " You needn't suspect that. Miss. But you quiet her best, 
 and I thought I'd come to you. But, gracious ! " 
 
 Eose pushed past her without vouchsafing any answer to 
 the look in her face, and turned off to Juliana's chamber, 
 where she was neither welcomed nor repelled. Juliana said 
 she was perfectly well, and that Polly was foolishly officious : 
 whereupon Rose ordered Polly out of the room, and said to 
 Juliana, kindly : " You have not slept, dear, and I have not 
 either. I am so unhappy." 
 
 AVhether Rose intended by this communication to make 
 Juliana eagerly attentive, and to distract her from her own 
 affair, cannot be said, but something of the effect was 
 produced. 
 
 " You care for him, too," cried Rose, impetuously. " Tell 
 me, Juley : do you think him capable of any base action ? 
 Do you think he would do what any gentleman would be 
 ashamed to own ? Tell me." 
 
 Juliana looked at Rose intently, but did not reply. 
 
 Rose jumped up from the bed. "You hesitate, Juley? 
 What ? Could you think so ? " 
 
 Young womon after a common game are shrewd. Juliana 
 may have seen that Rose was not steady on the plank she 
 walked, and required support. 
 
 " I don't know," she said, turning her cheek to her 
 pillow. 
 
 "What an answer!" Rose exclaimed. "Have you no 
 opinion? What did you say yesterday? It's silent as the 
 grave with me : but if you do care for him, you must think 
 one thing or the other." 
 
 "I suppose not, then — no," said Juliana. 
 
 Repeating the languid words bitterly. Rose continued : 
 " What is it to love without having faith in him you love ? 
 You make my mind easier." 
 
 Juliana caught the implied taunt, and said, fretfully: " I'm
 
 ROSE WOUNDED. 416 
 
 ill. You're 80 passionate. You don't tell me what it is. 
 How can I answer you ? " 
 
 "Never mind," said Eose, moving to the door, wondering 
 why she had spoken at all : but when Juliana sprang forward, 
 and caught her by the dress to stop her, and with a most un- 
 wonted outbui-st of affection, begged of her to tell her all, the 
 wound in Rose's breast began to bleed, and she was glad to 
 speak. 
 
 " Juley, do you — can you believe that he wrote that letter 
 which poor Ferdinand was accused of writing ? " 
 
 Juliana appeared to muse, and then responded : " "Why 
 should he do such a thing ? " 
 
 "0 my goodness, what a girl ! " Rose interjected. 
 
 "Well, then, to please you, Rose, of course I think he is 
 too honourable." 
 
 "You do think so, Juley? But if he himself confessed it 
 — what then ? You would not believe him, would you ? " 
 
 " Oh, then I can't say. Why should he condemn him- 
 self?" 
 
 "But you would know — you would know that he was a 
 man to suffer death rather than be guilty of the smallest 
 baseness. His birth — what is that!" Rose filliped her 
 fingers : " But his acts — what he is himself you would be 
 sure of, would you not? Dear Juley! Oh, for heaven's 
 sake, speak out plainly to me." 
 
 A wily look had crept over Juliana's features. 
 
 " Certainly," she said, in a tone that belied it, and draw- 
 ing Rose to her bosom, the groan she heard there was passing 
 sweet to her. 
 
 " He has confessed it to Mama," sobbed Rose. " Why did 
 he not come to me first ? He has confessed it — the abominable 
 thing has come out of his own mouth. He went to her last 
 night . . . ." 
 
 Juliana patted her shoulders regularly as they heaved. 
 When words were intelligible between them, Juliana said : 
 " At least, dear, you must admit that he has redeemed it." 
 
 " Redeemed it ? Could he do less ? " Rose dried her 
 eyes vehemently, as if the tears shamed her. " A man who 
 could have let another suffer for his crime — I could never
 
 416 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 have lifted my head again. I think I -would have cut off 
 this hand that plighted itself to him ! As it is, I hardly dare 
 look at myself. But you don't think it, dear? You know it 
 to be false ! false ! false ! " 
 
 " Why should Mr. Harrington confess it ? " said Juliana. 
 " Oh, don't speak his name ! " cried Rose. 
 Her cousin smiled. " So many strange things happen," 
 she said, and sighed. 
 
 " Don't sigh : I shall think you believe it ! " cried Rose. 
 An ajipearance of constrained repose was assumed. Rose 
 glanced up, studied for an instant, and breathlessly uttered : 
 " You do, you do believe it, Juley ? " 
 
 For answer, Juliana hugged her with much warmth, and 
 recommenced the patting. 
 
 "I dare say it's a mistake," she remarked. "He may 
 have been jealous of Ferdinand. You know I have not seen 
 the letter. I have only heard of it. In love, they say, you 
 ought to excuse . . . And the want of religious educa- 
 tion ! His sister . . . ." 
 
 Rose interrupted her with a sharp shudder. Might it not 
 be possible that one who had the same blood as the Countess 
 would stoop to a momentary vileness. 
 
 How changed was Rose from the haughty damsel of 
 yesterday ! 
 
 "Do you think my lover could tell a lie?" "He — 
 would not love me long if / did ! " 
 
 These phrases arose and rang in Juliana's ears while she 
 pursued the task of comforting the broken spirit that now 
 lay prone on the bed, and now impetuously paced the room. 
 Rose had come thinking the moment Juliana's name was 
 mentioned, that here was the one to fortify her faith in 
 Evan : one who, because she loved, could not doubt 
 him. She moaned in a terror of distrust, loathing her 
 cousin : not asking herself why she needed support. And 
 indeed she was too young for much clear self-questioning, 
 and her blood was flowing too quickly for her brain to 
 perceive more than one thing at a time. 
 
 " Does your mother believe it ? " said Juliana, evading 
 a direct assault.
 
 ROSE WOUNDED 417 
 
 " Mama ? She never doubts what you speak," answered 
 Rose, disconsolately. 
 
 "She does?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Whereat Juliana looked most grave, and Eose felt that it 
 was hard to breathe. 
 
 She had grown very cold and calm, and Juliana had to be 
 expansive unprovoked. 
 
 "Believe nothing, dear, till you hear it from his own lips. 
 If he can look in your face and say that he did it ... . 
 well, then ! But of course he cannot. It must be some 
 wonderful piece of generosity to his rival." 
 
 "So I thought, Juley ! so I thought," cried Rose, at the 
 new light, and Juliana smiled contemptuously, and the light 
 flickered and died, and all was darker than before in the 
 bosom of Eose. She had borne so much that this new di-op 
 was poison. 
 
 " Of course it must be that, if it is anything," Juliana pur- 
 sued. "You were made to be happy. Rose. And consider, 
 if it is true, people of very low birth, till they have lived 
 long with other people, and if they have no religion, are so 
 very likely to do things. You do not judge them as you do 
 real gentlemen, and one must not be too harsh — I only wish 
 to prepare you for the worst." 
 
 A dim form of that very idea had passed through Rose, 
 giving her small comfort. 
 
 " Let him tell you with his own lips that what he has told 
 your mother is true, and then, and not till then, believe him," 
 Juliana concluded, and they kissed kindly, and separated. 
 Rose had suddenly lost her firm step, but no sooner was 
 Juliana alone than she left the bed, and addressed her visage 
 to the glass with brightening eyes, as one who saw the 
 gKmmer of young hope therein. 
 
 " She love him ! Not if he told me so ten thousand times 
 would I believe it ! and before he has said a syllable she 
 doubts him. Asking me in that frantic way ! as if I couldn't 
 see that she wanted me to help her to her faith in him, as she 
 calls it. Not name his name ? Mr. Harrington ! I may 
 call him Evan : some day ! " 
 
 Half-uttered, half-mused, the unconscious exclamations
 
 418 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 issued from her, and for many a weary day since she had 
 dreamed of love, and studied that which is said to attract the 
 creature, she had not been so glowingly elated or looked so 
 much farther in the glass than its pale reflection. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 BEFORE BREAKFAST. 
 
 Cold through the night the dark-fringed stream had whis- 
 pered under Evan's eyes, and the night breeze voiced " Fool, 
 fool! " to him, not withoiit a distant echo in his heart. By sym- 
 bols and sensations he knew that Eose was lost to him. There 
 was no moon : the water seemed aimless, passing on carelessly 
 to oblivion. iN'ow and then, the trees stirred and talked, or a 
 noise was heard from the pastures. He had slain the life that 
 lived in them, and the great glory they were to bring forth, and 
 the end to which all things moved. Had less than the loss of 
 Rose been involved, the young man might have found him- 
 self looking out on a world beneath notice, and have been 
 sighing for one more worthy of his clouded excellence : but 
 the immense misery present to him in the contemplation of 
 Eose's sad restrained contempt, saved him from the silly 
 elation which is the last, and generally successful, struggle 
 of human nature in those who can so far master it to commit 
 a sacrifice. The loss of that brave high young soul — Eose, 
 who had lifted him out of the mire with her own white 
 hands : Eose, the image of all that he worshipped : Eose, so 
 closely wedded to him that to be cut away from her was to 
 fall like pallid clay from the soaring spirit : surely he was 
 stunned and senseless when he went to utter the words to her 
 mother ! Now that he was awake, and could feel his self- 
 inflicted pain, he marvelled at his rashness and foolishness, 
 as perhaps numerous mangled warriors have done for a time, 
 when the battle-field was cool, and they were weak, and the 
 liproar of their jarred nerves has beset them, lying uncherished.
 
 BEFORE BREAKFAST. 419 
 
 By degrees he grew aware of a little consolatory touch, 
 like the point of a needle, in his consciousness. Laxley 
 would certainly insult him ! In that case he would not 
 refuse to fight him. The darkness broke and revealed this 
 happy prospect, and Evan held to it an hour, and could 
 hardly reject it when better thoughts conquered. Por would 
 it not be sweet to make the strength of his arm respected ? 
 He took a stick, and ran his eye musingly along the length, 
 trifling with it grimly. The great Mel had been his son's 
 instructor in the chivalrous science of fence, and a maitre 
 d'armes in Portugal had given him polish. In Mel's time 
 duels with swords had been occasionally fought, and Evan 
 looked on the sword as the weapon of combat. Pace to face 
 with his adversary — what then were birth or position? 
 Action ! — action ! — he sighed for it, as I have done since I 
 came to know that his history must be morally developed. A 
 glow of bitter pleasure exalted him when, after hot passages, 
 and parryings and thrusts, he had disarmed Perdinand 
 Laxley, and bestowing on him his life, said : ' ' Accept this 
 worthy gift of the son of a tailor ! " and he wiped his sword, 
 haply bound up his wrist, and stalked off the ground, the 
 vindicator of man's natural dignity. And then he turned 
 upon himself with laughter, discovering a most wholesome 
 power, barely to be suspected in him yet; but of all the 
 children of glittering Mel and his solid mate, Evan was the 
 best mixed compound of his parents. 
 
 He put the stick back in its corner and eyed his wrist, as 
 if he had really just gone through the pretty scene he had 
 just laughed at. It was nigh upon reality, for it suggested 
 the employment of a handkerchief, and he went to a place 
 and drew forth one that had the stain of his blood on it, and 
 the name of Rose at one end. The beloved name was half- 
 blotted by the dull-red mark, and at that sight a strange 
 tenderness took hold of Evan. His passions became dead 
 and of old date. This, then, would be his for ever ! Love, 
 for whom earth had been too small, crept exultingly into a 
 nut-shell. He clasped the treasure on his breast, and saw a 
 life beyond his parting with her. 
 
 Strengthened thus, he wrote by the morning light to Lax- 
 
 £ £ 2
 
 420 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 ley. The letter was brief, and said simply that the act of 
 •which Laxley had been accused, Evan Harrington was respon- 
 sible for. The latter expressed regret that Laxley should 
 have fallen under a false charge, and, at the same time, indi- 
 cated that if Laxley considered himself personally aggrieved, 
 the writer was at his disposal. 
 
 A messenger had now to be found to convey it to the 
 village-inn. Footmen were stirring about the house, and one 
 meeting Evan close by his door, observed with demure grin, 
 that he could not find the gentleman's nether-garments. The 
 gentleman, it appeared, was Mr. John Eaikes, who according 
 to report, had been furnished with a bed at the house, 
 because of a discovery, made at a late period over-night, that 
 farther the gentleman could not go. Evan found him sleep- 
 ing soundly. How much the poor youth wanted a friend ! 
 Fortune had given him instead a horn buffoon; and it is per- 
 haps the greatest evil of a position like Evan's, that, with 
 cultured feelings, you are likely to meet with none to know 
 you. Society does not mix well in money-pecking spheres. 
 Here, however, was John Raikes, and Evan had to make the 
 best of him. 
 
 " Eh ? " yawned Jack, awakened; " I was dreaming I was 
 I^apoleon Bonaparte's right-hand man." 
 
 " I want you to be mine for half-an-hour," said Evan. 
 
 Without replying, the distinguished officer jumped out of 
 bed at a bound, mounted a chair, and peered on tip-toe over 
 the top, from which, with a glance of self- congratulation, he 
 pulled the missing piece of apparel, sighed dejectedly, as he 
 descended, while he exclaimed : 
 
 " Safe ! but no distinction can compensate a man for this 
 state of intolerable suspicion of everybody. I assure you, 
 Harrington, I wouldn't be Napoleon himself— and I have 
 always been his peculiar admirer — to live and be afraid of 
 my valet ! I believe it will develop cancer sooner or later in 
 me. I feel singular pains already. Last night, after crown- 
 ing champagne with ale, which produced a sort of French 
 Revolution in my interior — by the way, that must have made 
 me dream of Napoleon ! — last night, with my lower members 
 in revolt against my head, I had to sit and cogitate for hours
 
 BEFORE BREAKFAST. 421 
 
 on a hiding-place for these — call them what you will. De- 
 pend upon it, Harrington, this world is no such funny affair 
 as we fancy." 
 
 " Then it is true, that you could let a man play pranks on 
 you," said Evan. " I took it for one of your jokes." 
 
 " Just as I can't believe that you're a tailor," returned 
 Jack. "It's not a bit more extraordinary." 
 
 "But, Jack, if you cause yourself to be contemp- 
 tible " 
 
 "Contemptible!" cried Jack. "This is not the tone I 
 like. Contemptible ! why it's my eccentricity among my 
 equals. If I dread the profane vulgar, that only proves that 
 I'm above them. Odi, &c. Besides, Achilles, had his weak 
 point, and egad, it was when he faced about ! By Jingo ! I 
 wish I'd had that idea yesterday. I should have behaved 
 better." 
 
 Evan could see that the creature was beginning to rely 
 desperately on his humoiu-. 
 
 "Come," he said, "be a man to-day. Throw off your 
 motley. When I met 5'ou that night so oddly, you had been 
 acting like a worthy fellow, trying to earn your bread in the 
 best way you could " 
 
 "And precisely because I met you, of all men, I've been 
 going round and round ever since," said Jack. "A clown or 
 pantaloon would have given me balance. Say no more. 
 You couldn't help it. We met because we were the two 
 extremes." 
 
 Sighing, " What a jolly old inn ! " Eaikes rolled him- 
 self over in the sheets, and gave two or three snug jolta 
 indicative of his determination to be comfortable while he 
 could. 
 
 " Do you intend to carry on this folly. Jack ? " 
 
 " Say, sacrifice," was the answer. " I feel it as much as 
 you possibly could, Mr. Harrington. Hear the facts," Jack 
 turned round again. " Why did I consent to this absiirdity ? 
 Because of my ambition. That old fellow, whom I took to 
 be a clerk of Messrs. Grist, said : 'You want to cut a figure 
 in the world — you're armed now.' A sort of Fortunatus's 
 joke. It was his way of launching me. But did he think I
 
 i22 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 intended this for more than a lift ? I his puppet ? He, sir, 
 was my tool ! Well, I came. All my efforts were strained 
 to shorten the period of penance. I had the best linen, and 
 put on captivating manners. I should undoubtedly have won 
 some girl of station, and cast oif my engagement like an old 
 suit, but just mark ! — now mark how Fortune tricks us ! 
 After the pic-nic yesterday, the domestics of the house came 
 to clear away, and the band being there, I stopped them and 
 bade them tune up, and at the same time seizing the maid 
 Wheedle, away we flew. We danced, we whirled, we 
 twirled. Ale upon this ! My head was lost. ' Why don't 
 it last for ever? ' says I. 'I wish it did,' says she. The 
 na'iveU enraptured me. ' Oooo ! ' I cried, hugging her, and 
 then, you know, there was no course open to a man of honour 
 but to offer marriage and make a lady of her. I proposed : 
 she accepted me, and here I am, eternally tied to this accurst 
 insignia, if I'm to keep my promise ! Isn't that a sacrifice, 
 friend H.? There's no course open to me. The poor girl is 
 madly in love. She called me a ' rattle ! ' As a gentleman, 
 I cannot recede." 
 
 Evan got up and burst into laughter at this burlesque of 
 himself. Telling- the fellow the service he required, and 
 receiving a groaning assurance that the letter should, with- 
 out loss of time, be delivered in proper style, the egoist, as 
 Jack heartily thought him, fell behind his knitted brows, 
 and, after musing abstractedly, went forth to light upon his 
 fate. 
 
 But a dread of meeting had seized both Eose and Evan. 
 She had exhausted her first sincerity of unbelief in her inter- 
 view with Juliana : and he had begun to consider what he 
 could say to her. More than the three words " I did it," 
 would not be possible; and if she made him repeat them, 
 facing her truthful eyes, would he be man enough to strike 
 her bared heart twice ? And, ah ! the sullen brute he must 
 seem, standing before her dumb, hearing her sigh, seeing her 
 wretched effort not to show how unwillingly her kind spirit 
 despised him. The reason for the act — she would ask for 
 that ! Eose would not be so philosophic as her mother. She 
 would grasp at every chance to excuse the deed. He cried
 
 BEFORE BREAKFAST. 423 
 
 out against his scheming sister in an agony, and while he did 
 so, encountered Miss Carrington and Miss Bonner in deep 
 converse. Juliana pinched her arm, whereupon Miss Carring- 
 ton said : " You look merry this morning, Mr. Harrington : " 
 for he was unawares smiling at the image of himself in the 
 mirror of John Raikes. That smile, transformed to a chuck- 
 ling grimace, travelled to Rose before they met. 
 
 Why did she not come to him ? 
 
 A soft voice at his elbow made his blood stop. It was 
 Caroline. She kissed him, answering his greeting: "Is it 
 good morning ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said he. " By the way, don't forget that the 
 coach leaves early." 
 
 "My darling Evan ! you make me so happy. For it was 
 really a mistaken sense of honour. Eor what can at all 
 excuse a falsehood, you know, Evan ! " 
 
 Caroline took his arm, and led him into the sun, watching 
 his face at times. Presently she said: "I want just to be 
 assured that you thought more wisely than when you left us 
 last night." 
 
 "More wisely?" Evan turned to her with a playful 
 smile. 
 
 "My dear brother! you did not do what you said you 
 would do ? " 
 
 " Have you ever known me not to do what I said I would 
 do?" 
 
 "Evan! Good heaven! you did it? Then how can you 
 remain here an instant? Oh, no, no ! — say no, darling ! " 
 
 " Where is Louisa ? " he inquired. 
 
 " She is in her room. She will never appear at breakfast, 
 if she knows this." 
 
 " Perhaps more solitude would do her good," said Evan. 
 
 " Remember, if this should prove true, think how you 
 punish her ! " 
 
 On that point Evan had his own opinion. 
 
 " Well, I shall never have to punish you in this way, 
 my love," he said fondly, and Caroline dropped her eyelids. 
 
 " Don't think that I am blaming her," he added, trying to 
 feel as honestly as he spoke. " I was mad to come here. I
 
 424 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 eee it all now. Let us keep to our place. "We are all the 
 same before God till we disgrace ourselves." 
 
 Possibly with that sense of shame which some young 
 people have who are not professors of sounding sentences, or 
 aifected by missionary zeal, when they venture to breathe 
 the holy name, Evan blushed, and walked on humbly silent. 
 Caroline murmured : " Yes, yes ! oh, brother ! " and her 
 figure drew to him as if for protection. Pale, she looked up. 
 
 " Shall you always love me, Evan ? " 
 
 " "Whom else have I to love ? " 
 
 " But always — always ? Under any circumstances ? " 
 
 " More and more, dear. I always have, and shall. I look 
 to you now. I have no home but in your heart now." 
 
 She was agitated, and he spoke warmly to calm her. 
 
 The throb of deep emotion rang in her rich voice. " I 
 will live any life to be worthy of your love, Evan," and she 
 wept. 
 
 To him they were words and tears without a history. 
 
 Nothing further passed between them. Caroline went to 
 the Countess : Evan waited for Rose. The sun was getting 
 high. The face of the stream glowed like metal. "Why did 
 she not come ? She believed him guilty from the mouth of 
 another ? If so, there was something less for him to lose. 
 And now the sacrifice he had made did whisper a tale of 
 mortal magnificence in his ears : feelings that were not his 
 noblest stood up exalted. He waited till the warm meadow- 
 breath floating past told that the day had settled into heat, 
 and then he waited no more, but quietly walked into the 
 house with the strength of one who has conquered more thaa 
 human scorn.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE EETREAT FKO^I BECKLEY. 
 
 Never would the Countess believe that brothei of hers, 
 idiot as by nature he might be, and heir to unnumbered 
 epithets, would so far forget what she had done for him, as 
 to drag her through the mud for nothing : and so she told 
 Caroline again and again, vehemently. 
 
 It was about ten minutes before the time for descending to 
 the breakfast-table. She was dressed, and sat before the 
 glass, smoothing her hair, and applying the contents of a pot 
 of cold cream to her forehead betweenwhiles. "With perfect 
 sincerity she repeated that she could not believe it. She had 
 only trusted Evan once since their visit to Beckley ; and that 
 this once he should, when treated as a man, turn traitor to 
 their common interests, and prove himself an utter baby, was 
 a piece of nonsense her great intelligence indignantly re- 
 jected. 
 
 " Then, if true," she answered Caroline's assurances finally, 
 "if true, he is not his father's son ! " 
 
 By which it may be seen that she had indeed taken refuge 
 in the Castle of Negation against the whole army of facts, 
 
 "He is acting. Carry. He is acting the ideas of his 
 ridiculous empty noddle ! " 
 
 "No," said Caroline, mournfully, "he is not. I have 
 never known Evan to lie." 
 
 " Then you must forget the whipping he once had from 
 his mother — little dolt ! little selfish pig ! He obtains his 
 reputation entirely from his abominable selfishness, and then 
 stands tall, and asks us to admu-e him. He bursts with 
 vanity. But if yoii, lend your credence to it. Carry, how, in 
 the name of goodness, me you to appear at the breakfast ? " 
 
 " I was going to ask you whether you would come," said 
 Caroline, coldly. 
 
 " If I can get my hair to lie flat by any means at all, of
 
 426 EYAN HAEEINGTON. 
 
 course ! " returned the Countess. " This dreadful horrid 
 country pomade ! "Why did we not bring a larger stock of 
 the Andalu9ian Eegenerator ? Upon my honour, my dear, 
 you use a most enormous quantity ; I must really tell you 
 that." 
 
 Conning here entered to say that Mr. Evan had given 
 orders for the boxes to be packed and everything got ready to 
 depart by half-past eleven o'clock, when the fly would call 
 for them and convey them to Fallowfield in time to meet the 
 coach for London. 
 
 The Countess turned her head round to Caroline like an 
 astonished automaton. 
 
 " Given orders ! " she interjected, 
 
 " I have very little to get ready," remarked Caroline. 
 
 "Be so good as to wait outside the door one instant," said 
 the Countess to Conning, with particular urbanity. 
 
 Conning heard a great deal of vigorous whispering within, 
 and when summoned to re-appear, a note was handed to her 
 to convey to Mr. Harrington immediately. He was on the. 
 lawn ; read it, and wrote back three hasty lines in pencil. 
 
 "Louisa. You have my commands to quit this house, at 
 the hour named, this day. Tou will go with me. E. H." 
 
 Conning was again requested to wait outside the Countess's 
 door. She was the bearer of another note. Evan read it 
 likewise ; tore it up, and said that there was no answer. 
 
 The Castle of Negation held out no longer. Ruthless batta- 
 lions poured over the waUs, blew up the Countess's propriety, 
 made frightful ravages in her complexion. Down fell her 
 hair. 
 
 " Tou cannot possibly go to breakfast," said Caroline. 
 
 " I must ! I must ! " cried the Countess. " Why, my dear, 
 if he has done it — wretched creature ! don't you perceive 
 lliat, by withholding our presences, we become implicated 
 with him ? " And the Countess, from a burst of frenzy, put 
 this practical question so shrewdly, that Caroline's wits 
 succumbed to her. 
 
 "But he has not done it; he is acting!" she pursued, 
 restraining her precious tears for higher purposes, as oniy true 
 heroines can. ' Thinks to frighten me into submission ! "
 
 THE RETREAT FROM BECKLEY. 427 
 
 " Do you not think Evan is right in wishing us to leave, 
 after — after — " Caroline humbly suggested. 
 
 " Say, before my venerable friend has departed this life," 
 the Countess took her up. " No, I do not. If he is a fool, 
 I am not. No, Carry : / do not jump into ditches for 
 nothing. I will have something tangible for all that I have 
 endured. We are now tailors in this place, remember. If 
 that stigma is affixed to us, let us at least be remunerated for 
 it. Come." 
 
 Caroline's own hard struggle demanded all her strength : 
 yet she appeared to hesitate. " You will surely not disobey 
 Evan, Louisa?" 
 
 " Disobey ? " The Countess amazedly dislocated the syl- 
 lables. " Why, the boy will be telling you next that he will 
 not permit the Duke to visit you ! Just your English order 
 of mind, that cannot — brutes ! — conceive of friendship be- 
 tween high-born men and beautiful women. Beautiful as you 
 truly are, Carry, five years more will tell on you. But per- 
 haps my dearest is in a hurry to return to her Maxwell ? At 
 least he thwacks well ! " 
 
 Caroline's arm was taken. The Countess loved an occa- 
 sional rhyme when a point was to be made, and went off 
 nodding and tripping till the time for stateliness arrived, near 
 the breakfast-room door. She indeed was acting. At the 
 bottom of her heart there was a dismal rage of passions : 
 hatred of those who would or might look tailor in her face : 
 terrors concerning the possible re-visitation of the vengeful 
 Sir Abraham : dread of Evan and the efforts to despise him : 
 the shocks of many conflicting elements. Above it all her 
 countenance was calmly, sadly sweet : even as you may 
 behold some majestic lighthouse glimmering over the tumult 
 of a midnight sea. 
 
 An unusual assemblage honoured the breakfast that morn- 
 ing. The news of Mrs. Bonner's health was more favourable. 
 How delighted was the Countess to hear that ! Mrs. Bonner 
 was the only firm ground she stood on there, and after receiv- 
 ing and giving gentle salutes, she talked of Mrs. Bonner, and 
 her night-watch by the sick bed, in a spirit of doleful hope 
 This passed off the moments till she could settle herself to
 
 428 EVAN HAREmGTON. 
 
 study faces. Decidedly, e\^ery lad)'- present looked glum, 
 with the single exception of Miss Current. Evan was by 
 Lady Jocelyn's side. Her ladyship spoke to him; but the 
 Countess observed that no one else did. To herself, however, 
 the gentlemen were as attentive as ever. Evan sat three 
 chairs distant from her. 
 
 If the traitor expected his sister to share in his disgrace, by 
 noticing him, he was in error. On the contrary, the Countess 
 joined the conspiracy to exclude him, and would stop a mild 
 laugh if perchance he looked up. Presently Eose entered. 
 She said *' Good morning " to one or two, and glided into a 
 seat. 
 
 That Evan was under Lady Jocelyn's protection soon be- 
 came generally apparent, and also that her ladyship was 
 angry : an exhibition so rare with her that it was the more 
 remarked. Eose could see that she was a culprit in her 
 mother's eyes. She glanced from Evan to her. Lady Jocelyn's 
 mouth shut hard. The girl's senses then perceived the some- 
 thing that was afloat at the table ; she thought with a pang 
 of horror : "Has Juliana told?" Juliana smiled on her; 
 but the aspect of Mrs. Shorne, and of Miss Carrington, spoke 
 for their knowledge of that which must henceforth be the 
 perpetual reproof to her headstrong youth. 
 
 "At what hour do you leave us ? " said Lady Jooelyn to 
 Evan. 
 
 ' * AVhen I leave the table, my lady. The fly will call for 
 my sisters at half-past eleven." " 
 
 " There is no necessity for you to start in advance ?" 
 
 " I am going over to see my mother, madam." 
 
 Eose burned to speak to him now. Oh! why had she 
 delayed ! Why had she swerved from her good rule of open, 
 instant explanations? But Evan's heart was stern to his 
 love. Not only had she, by not coming, shown her doubt of 
 him, — she had betrayed him ! 
 
 Between the Countess, Melville, Sir John, and the Duke, 
 an animated dialogue was going on, over which Miss Current 
 I)layed like a lively iris. They could not part with the 
 Countess. Melville said he should be left stranded, and 
 numerous pretty things were uttered by other gentlemen:
 
 THE RETREAT FROM BECKLEY. 429 
 
 by the -women not a word. Glancing from certain of them 
 lingeringly to her admirers, the Countess smiled her thanks, 
 and then Andrew, pressed to remain, said he was willing and 
 happy, and so forth ; and it seemed that her admirers had 
 prevailed over her reluctance, for the Countess ended htr 
 little protests with a vanquished bow. Then there was a 
 gradual rising from table. Evan pressed Lady Jocelyn's 
 hand, and turning from her bent his head to Sir Franks, 
 who, without offering an exchange of cordialities, said, at 
 arm's length : " Good-bye, sir." Melville also gave him that 
 greeting stiffly. Harry was perceived to rush to the other 
 end of the room, in quest of a fly apparently. Poor Caroline's 
 heart ached for her brother, to see him standing there in the 
 shadow of many faces. But he was not left to stand alone. 
 Andrew quitted the circle of Sir John, Seymour Jocelyn, Mr. 
 George Uploft, and others, and linked his arm to Evan's, 
 Rose had gone. While Evan looked for her despairingly to 
 say his last word and hear her voice once more, Sir Franks 
 said to his wife : 
 
 " See that Rose keeps up-stairs." 
 
 " I want to speak to her," was her ladyship's answer, and 
 she moved to the door. 
 
 Evan made way for her, bowing. 
 
 " You will be ready at half-past eleven, Louisa," he said, 
 with calm distinctness, and passed from that purgatory. 
 
 Now honest Andrew attributed the treatment Evan met 
 with to the exposure of yesterday. He was frantic with 
 democratic disgust. 
 
 " Why the devil don't they serve me like that, eh ? 'Cause 
 I got a few coppers ! There, Van ! I'm a man of peace ; 
 but if you'll call any man of 'em out I'U stand your second 
 — 'pon my soul, I will. They must be cowards, so there 
 isn't much to fear. Confound the fellows, I tell 'em every 
 day I'm the son of a cobbler, and egad, they grow civiller. 
 What do they mean ? Are cobblers ranked over tailors ? " 
 
 "Perhaps that's it," said Evan. 
 
 " Hang your gentlemen ! " Andrew cried. 
 
 " Let us have breakfast first," uttered a melancholy voice 
 near them in the passage.
 
 430 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 " Jack ! " said Evan. " Where have you been ? " 
 
 " I didn't know the breakfast-room," Jack returned, "and 
 the fact is, my spirits are so down, I couldn't muster up courage 
 to ask one of the footmen. I delivered your letter. Nothing 
 hostUe took place. I bowed fiercely to let him know what 
 he might expect. That generally stops it. You see, I talk 
 prose. I shall never talk anything else ! " 
 
 Andrew recommenced his jests of yesterday with Jack. 
 The latter bore them patiently, as one who had endured 
 worse. 
 
 " She has rejected me! " he whispered to Evan. " Talk 
 of the ingratitude of women ! Ten minutes ago I met her. 
 She perked her eyebrows at me ! — tried to run away. * Miss 
 Wheedle : ' I said. ' If you please, I'd rather not,' says she. 
 To cut it short, the sacrifice I made to her was the cause. 
 It's all over the house. She gave the most excruciating hint. 
 Those low-born females are so horribly indelicate. I stood 
 confounded." 
 
 Commending hia new humour, Evan persuaded him to 
 breakfast immediately, and hunger being one of Jack's solitary 
 incitements to a sensible course of conduct, the disconsolate 
 gentleman followed its dictates. " Go with him, Andrew," 
 said Evan. " He is here as my friend, and may be made 
 uncomfortable. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, yes, — ha! ha! I'll follow the poor chap," said 
 Andrew. "But what is it all about? Louisa won't go, you 
 know. Has the girl given you up because she saw your 
 mother, Yan ? I thought it was all right. Why the deuce 
 are you running away ? " 
 
 " Because I've just seen that I ought never to have come, I 
 suppose," Evan replied, controlling the wretched heaving of 
 his chest. 
 
 " But Louisa worUt go, Yan." 
 
 " Understand, my dear Andrew, that I know it to be quite 
 imperative. Be ready yourself with Caroline. Louisa will 
 then make her choice. Pray help me in this. We must not 
 stay a minute more than is necessary in this house." 
 
 " It's an awful duty," breathed Andrew, after a pause. 
 *' I see nothing but hot water at home. Why — but it's no 
 
 i
 
 THE RETREAT FROM BECKLEY. 431 
 
 use asking questions. My love to your mother. I say, Van, 
 — now isn't Lady Jocelyn a trump ? " 
 
 "God bless her!" said Evan. And the moisture in 
 Andrew's eyes affected his own. 
 
 " She's the staunchest piece of woman-goods I ever ■ 
 
 I know a hundred cases of her ! " 
 
 " I know one, and that's enough," said Evan. 
 
 ITot a sign of Rose ! Can Love die without its dear farewell 
 on which it feeds, away from the light, dying by bits ? In 
 Evan's heart Love seemed to die, and all the pangs of a death 
 were there as he trod along the gravel and stepped beneath 
 the gates of Beckley Court. 
 
 Meantime the gallant Countess was not in any way dis- 
 posed to retreat on account of Evan's defection. The 
 behaviour toward him at the breakfast-table proved to her 
 that he had absolutelycommittedhis egregious folly, and as 
 no Greneral can have concert with a fool, she cut him off from 
 her affections resolutely. Her manifest disdain at his last 
 speech, said as much to everybody present. Besides, the 
 lady was in her element here, and compulsion is required to 
 make us relinquish our element. Lady Jocelyn certainly had 
 not expressly begged of her to remain : the Countess told 
 Melville so, who said that if she required such an invitation 
 she should have it, but that a guest to whom they were so 
 much indebted, was bound to spare them these formalities. 
 
 "What ami to do?" 
 
 The Countess turned piteously to the diplomatist's wife. 
 
 She answered, retiringly: " Indeed I cannot say." 
 
 Upon this, the Countess accepted Melville's arm, and had 
 some thoughts of punishing the woman. 
 
 They were seen parading the lawn. Mr. George Uploft 
 chuckled singularly. 
 
 "Just the old style," he remarked, but corrected the 
 inadvertence with a ' hem ! ' committing himself more shame- 
 fully the instant after. " I'll wager she has the old Dip. 
 down on his knee before she cuts." 
 
 "Bet can't be taken," observed Sir John Loring. "It 
 requires a spy." 
 
 Harry, however, had heard the remark, and because he
 
 432 EVAN HARRINGTON". 
 
 wished to speak to lier, let us hope, and reproach her for 
 certain things when she chose to be disengaged, he likewise 
 sallied out, being forlorn as a youth whose sweet vanity is 
 much hurt. 
 
 The Duke had paired off with Mrs. Strike. The lawn was 
 fair in sunlight where they walked. The air was rich with 
 harvest smells, and the scent of autumnal roses. Caroline 
 was by nature luxurious and soft. The thought of that 
 drilled figure to which she was returning in bondage, may 
 have thrown into bright relief the polished and gracious 
 nobleman who walked by her side, shadowing forth the 
 chances of a splendid freedom. Two lovely tears fell from 
 her eyes. The Duke watched them quietly. 
 
 "Do you know, they make me jealous ? " he said. 
 
 Caroline answered him with a faint smile. 
 
 " Eeassure me, my dear lady; you are not going with your 
 brother this morning ? " 
 
 " My lord, I have no choice ! " 
 
 " May I speak to you as your warmest friend ? From 
 what I hear, it appears to be right that your brother should 
 not stay. To the best of my ability I will provide for him : 
 bat I sincerely desire to disconnect you from those who are 
 unworthy of you. Have you not promised to trust in me ? 
 "Pray, let me be your guide." 
 
 Caroline replied to the heart of his words : " My lord, I 
 dare not." 
 
 " What has changed you ? " 
 
 "I am not changed, but awakened," said Caroline. 
 
 The Duke paced on in silence. 
 
 " Pardon me if I comprehend nothing of such a change," 
 he resumed. "I asked you to sacrifice much; all that I 
 could give in return I offered. Is it the world you fear ? " 
 
 " "What is the world to such as I am, my lord ? " 
 
 " Can you consider it a duty to deliver yourself bound to 
 that man again ? " 
 
 " Heaven pardon me, my lord, I think of that too little ! " 
 
 The Duke's next question : " Then what can it be ? " stood 
 in his eyes. 
 
 "Oh, my lord!" Caroline's touch quivered on his arm,
 
 THE RETREAT FROM BECKLEY. 433 
 
 " Do not suppose me frivolous, ungrateful, or — or cowardly. 
 For myself you have offered more happiness than I could 
 have hoped for. To be allied to one so generous, I could 
 bear anything. Yesterday you had my word: give it me 
 back to-day!" 
 
 Very curiously the Duke gazed on her, for there was evi- 
 dence of internal torture across her forehead. 
 
 " I may at least beg to know the cause for this request ? " 
 
 She quelled some throbbing in her bosom. "Yes, my lord." 
 
 He waited, and she said : " There is one — if I offended 
 him, I could not live. If now, I followed my wishes, he 
 would lose his faith in the last creature that loves him. He 
 is unhappy. I could bear what is called disgrace, my lord — 
 I shudder to say it — I could sin against heaven ; but I dare 
 not do what would make him despise me." 
 
 She was trembling violently; yet the nobleman, in his 
 surprise, could not forbear from asking who this person might 
 be, whose influence on her righteous actions was so strong. 
 
 " It is my brother, my lord," she said. 
 
 Still more astonished, "Your brother!" the Duke ex- 
 claimed. "My dearest lady, I would not wound you; but is 
 not this a delusion ? "We are so placed that we must speak 
 plainly. Your brother I have reason to feel sure is quite 
 unworthy of you." 
 
 "Unworthy? My brother Evan? Oh, my lord! he is 
 noble, — he is the best of men ! " 
 
 " And how, between yesterday and to-day, has he changed 
 
 you?" 
 
 "It is that yesterday I did not know him, and to-day 
 I do." 
 
 Her brother, a common tradesman, a man guilty of forgery 
 and the utmost baseness — all but kicked out of the house ! 
 The Duke was too delicate to press her further. Moreover, 
 Caroline had emphasized the 'yesterday' and 'to-day,' 
 showing that the interval which had darkened Evan to 
 everybody else, had illumined him to her. He employed 
 some courtly eloquence, better unrecorded ; but if her firm 
 resolution perplexed him, it threw a strange halo round 
 the youth from whom it sprang.
 
 434 EYAN HARKINGTOIT. 
 
 The hour was now eleven, and the Countess thought it full 
 time to retire to her entrenchment in Mrs. Bonner's chamber. 
 She had great things still to do : vast designs were in her 
 hand awaiting the sanction of Providence. Alas ! that little 
 idle j)romenade was soon to be repented. She had joined her 
 sister, thinking it safer to have her upstairs till they were 
 quit of Evan. The Duke and the diplomatist loitering in the 
 rear, these two fair women sailed across the lawn, conscious, 
 doubtless, over all their sorrows and schemes, of the freight 
 of beauty they carried. 
 
 What meant that gathering on the steps? It was fortuitous, 
 like everything destined to confound us. There stood Lady 
 Jocelyn with Andrew, fretting his pate. Harry leant 
 against a pillar. Miss Carrington, Mrs. Shome, and Mrs. 
 Melville, supported by Mr. George TJploft, held watchfully 
 by. Juliana, with Master Alec and Miss Dorothy, were in 
 the background. 
 
 Why did our General see herself cut off from her strong- 
 hold, as by a hostile band ? She saw it by that sombre light 
 in Juliana's eyes, which had shown its ominous gleam when- 
 ever disasters were on the point of unfolding. 
 
 Turning to Caroline, she said : "Is there a back way ? " 
 
 Too late ! Andrew called. 
 
 " Come along, Louisa. Just time, and no more. Carry, 
 are you packed? " 
 
 This in reality was the first note of the retreat from 
 Beckley; and having blown it, the hideous little trumpeter 
 burst into scarlet perspirations, mumbling to Lady Jocelyn : 
 ' Now, my lady, mind you stand by me." 
 
 The Countess walked straight up to him. 
 
 " Dear Andrew ! this sun is too powerful for you. I beg 
 you, withdraw into the shade of the house." 
 
 She was about to help him with all her gentleness. 
 "Yes, yes. All right, Louisa," rejoined Andrew. "Come, 
 go and pack. The fly'll be here, you know — too late for 
 the coach, if you don't mind, my lass. Ain't you packed yet ? " 
 
 The horrible fascination of vulgarity impelled the wretched 
 lady to answer : "Are we herrings ? " And then she laughed, 
 but without any accompaniment.
 
 THE RETREAT FROM BECKLEY. 435 
 
 "I am now going to dear Mrs. Bonner," she said, with a 
 tender glance at Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 "My mother is sleeping," her ladyship remarked. 
 
 " Come, Carry, my darling I " cried Andrew. 
 
 Caroline looked at her sister. The Countess divined An- 
 drew's shameful trap. 
 
 " I was under an engagement to go and canvass this after- 
 noon," she said. 
 
 " Why, my dear Louisa, Ave've settled that in here this 
 morning," said Andrew. " Old Tom only stuck up a puppet 
 to play with. We've knocked him over, and march in victo- 
 rious — eh, my lady?" 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed the Countess, "if Mr. Raikes shall 
 indeed have listened to my inducements ! " 
 
 " Deuce a bit of inducements ! " returned Andrew. " The 
 fellow's ashamed of himself — ha! ha! Now then, Louisa." 
 
 While they talked, Juliana had loosed Dorothy and Alec, 
 and these imps were seen rehearsing a remarkable play, in 
 which the damsel held forth a hand and the cavalier advanced 
 and kissed it with a loud smack, being at the same time 
 reproached for his lack of grace. 
 
 "You are so English! " cried Dorothy, with perfect lan- 
 guor, and a malicious twitter passed between two or three. 
 Mr. George spluttered indiscreetly. 
 
 The Countess observed the performance. Not to convert 
 the retreat into a total rout, she, with that dark flush which 
 was her manner of blushing, took formal leave of Lady 
 Jocelyn, who, in return, simply said : " Good-bye, Countess." 
 Mrs. Strike's hand she kindly shook. 
 
 The few digs and slaps and thrusts at gloomy Harry and 
 prim Miss Carrington and hoorish Mr. George, wherewith the 
 Countess, torn with wrath, thought it necessary to cover her 
 retreat, need not be told. She struck the weak alone : Juliana 
 she respected. Masterly tactics, for they showed her power, 
 gratified her vengeance, and left her unassailed. On the road 
 she had Andrew to tear to pieces. delicious operation ! 
 And shameful brother to reduce her to such joys ! And, 
 Providence ! may a poor desperate soul, betrayed through her 
 devotion, unremunerated for her humiliation and absolute 
 
 F F 2
 
 436 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 hard work, accuse thee ? The Countess would have liked to. 
 She felt it to be the instigation of the devil, and decided to 
 remain on the safe side still. 
 
 Happily for Evan, she was not ready with her packing by 
 half-past eleven. It was near twelve when he, pacing in 
 front of the inn, observed Polly Wheedle, followed some yards 
 in the rear by John Raikes, advancing towards him. Now 
 Polly had been somewhat delayed by Jack's persecutions, and 
 Evan declining to attend to the masked speech of her mission, 
 which directed him to go at once down a certain lane in the 
 neighbourhood of the park, some minutes were lost. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Harrington," said Polly, "it's Miss Rose: 
 she's had leave from her Ma. Can you stop away, when it's 
 quite proper ? " 
 
 Evan hesitated. Before he could conquer the dark spirit, 
 lo, Rose appeared, walking up the village street. Polly and 
 her adorer fell back. 
 
 Timidly, unlike herself. Rose neared him. 
 " I have offended you, Evan. You would not come to me : 
 I have come to you." 
 
 " I am glad to be able to say good-bye to you, Rose," was 
 his pretty response. 
 
 Could she have touched his hand then, the blood of these 
 lovers rushing to one channel must have made all clear. At 
 least he could hardly have struck her true heart with his 
 miserable lie. But that chance was lost : they were in the 
 street, where passions have no play. 
 " Tell me, Evan, — it is not true." 
 
 He, refining on his misery, thought, She would not ask 
 it if she trusted me : and answered her: "You have heard 
 it from your mother, Rose." 
 
 " But I will not believe it from any lips but yours, Evan. 
 Oh, speak, speak ! " 
 
 It pleased him to think : How could one who loved me 
 believe it even then ? 
 
 He said : "It can scarcely do good to make me repeat it, 
 Rose." 
 
 And then, seeing her dear bosom heave quickly, he was 
 ' tempted to fall on his knees to her with a wild outcry
 
 THE RETREAT FROM BECKLEY. 437 
 
 of love. The chance was lost. The inexorable street for- 
 bade it. 
 
 There they stood in silence, gasping at the barrier that 
 divided them. 
 
 Suddenly a noise was heard. " Stop ! stop ! " cried the 
 voice of John Raikes. "When a lady and gentleman are 
 talking together, sir, do you lean your long ears over them — 
 ha?" 
 
 Looking round, Evan beheld Laxley a step behind, and 
 Jack rushing up to him, seizing his collar, and instantly 
 undergoing ignominious prostration for his heroic defence of 
 the privacy of lovers. 
 
 "Stand aside," said Laxley, imperiously. " Eosey ! so 
 you've come for me. Take my arm. You are under my 
 protection." 
 
 Another forlorn "Is it true?" Eose cast toward Evan 
 with her eyes. He wavered under them. 
 
 " Did you receive my letter ? " he demanded of Laxley. 
 
 " I decline to hold converse with you," said Laxley, draw- 
 ing Rose's hand on his arm. 
 
 " You will meet me to-day or to-morrow ? " 
 
 " I am in the habit of selecting my own company." 
 
 Rose disengaged her hand. Evan grasped it. No word of 
 farewell was uttered. Her mouth moved, but her eyes were 
 hard shut, and nothing save her hand's strenuous pressure, 
 equalling his own, told that their parting had been spoken, 
 the link violently snapped. 
 
 Mr. John Raikes had been picked up and pulled away by 
 Polly. She now rushed to Evan : " Good-bye, and God 
 bless you, dear Mr. Harrington. I'll find means of let- 
 ting you know how she is. And he shan't have her, 
 mind ! " 
 
 Rose was walking by Laxley's side, but not leaning on his 
 arm. Evan blessed her for this. Ere she was out of sight 
 the fly rolled down the street. She did not heed it, did not 
 once turn her head. Ah, bitter unkindness ! 
 
 When Love is hurt, it is self-love that requires the opiate. 
 Conning gave it him in the form of a note in a handwriting 
 not known to him. It said ; —
 
 438 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 "/do not believe it, and nothing will ever make me. 
 
 Juliana." 
 
 Evan could not forget these words. They coloured hia 
 farewell to Beckley : the dear old downs, the hop-gardens, 
 the long grey farms walled with clipped yew, the home of his 
 lost love I He thought of them through weary nights when 
 the ghostly image with the hard shut eyelids and the quiver- 
 ing lips would rise and sway irresolutely in air till a shape 
 out of the darkness extinguished it. Pride is the God of 
 Pagans. Juliana had honoured his God. The spirit of 
 Juliana seemed to pass into the body of Rose, and suffer 
 for him as that ghostly image visibly suffered. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 FN WHICn WE HAVE TO SEE IN THE DAEK. 
 
 So ends the fourth act of our comedy. 
 
 After all her heroism and extraordinary efforts, after, as 
 she feared, offending Providence — after facing Tailordom — 
 the Countess was rolled away in a dingy fly : unrewarded 
 even by a penny, for what she had gone through. For she 
 possessed eminently the practical nature of her sex ; and 
 though she would have scorned, and would have declined to 
 handle coin so base, its absence was upbraidingly mentioned 
 in her spiritual outcries. Not a penny ! 
 
 Nor was there, as in the miseries of retreat she affected 
 indifferently to imagine, a Duke fished out of the ruins of 
 her enterprise, to wash the mud off her garments and edge 
 them with radiance. Caroline, it became clear tq her, had 
 been infected by Evan's folly. Caroline, she subsequently 
 learnt, had likewise been a fool. Instead of marvelling at 
 the genius that had done so much in spite of the pair of fools 
 tliat were the right and left wing of her battle array, the
 
 IN WHICH WE HAVE TO SEE IN THE DARK. 439 
 
 simple-minded lady wept. She wanted success, not genius. 
 Admiration she was ever ready to forfeit for success. 
 
 Nor did she say to the tailors of earth : " Weep, for I 
 sought to emancipate you from opprobrium by making one of 
 you a gentleman ; I fought for a great principle and have 
 failed." Heroic to the end, she herself shed all the tears ; 
 took all the sorrow ! 
 
 Where was consolation ? Would any Protestant clergy- 
 man administer comfort to her ? Could he ? — might he do 
 so ? He might listen, and quote texts ; but he would de- 
 mand the harsh rude English for everything; and the Coun- 
 tess's confessional thoughts were all innuendoish, aerial ; too 
 delicate to live in our shameless tongue. Confession by im- 
 jDlication, and absolution ; she could know this to be what 
 she wished for, and yet not think it. She could see a haven 
 of peace in that picture of tlie little brown box with the 
 sleekly reverend figure bending his ear to the kneeling 
 Beauty outside, thrice ravishing as she half-lifts the veil 
 of her sins and her visage ! — yet she started alarmed to hear 
 it whispered that the fair penitent was the Countess de 
 Saldar ; urgently she prayed that no disgraceful brother 
 might ever drive her to that ! 
 
 Never let it be a Catholic priest ! — she almost fashioned 
 her petition into words. Who was to save her? Alas ! alas ) 
 in her dire distress — in her sense of miserable pennilessness, 
 she clung to Mr. John Raikes, of the curricle, the myste- 
 riously rich young gentleman ; and on that picture, with 
 Andrew roguishly contemplating it, and Evan, with feelings 
 regarding his sister that he liked not to own, the curtain 
 commiseratingly drops. 
 
 As in the course of a stream you come upon certain dips, 
 where, but here and there, a sparkle or a gloom of the full 
 flowing water is caught through deepening foliage, so the 
 history that concerns us wanders out of day for a time, and 
 we must violate the post and open written leaves to mark the 
 turn it takes. 
 
 First we have a letter from Mr. Goren to Mrs. Mel, to 
 inform her tluit her son has arrived and paid his respects to
 
 440 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 his future instructor in the branch of Bcience practised by 
 Mr. Goi'en. 
 
 "Ho has arrived at last," says the worthy tradosman. 
 " His appearance in the shop will bo highly gentloinanly, 
 and when he looks a little more pleasing, and grows fond of 
 it, nothing Avill be left to be desired. The ladies, his sisters, 
 have not tliought proper to call. I had hopes of the custom 
 of Mr. Andrew Cogglesby. Of course you wish him to learn 
 tailoring thorouglily ? " 
 
 Mrs. Mel writes back, tliaidcing ^Ir. Goren, and saying 
 that she had shown the letter to inquiring creditors, and that 
 she does wish her son to learn his business from the root. 
 This produces a second letter from Mr. Goren, which imparts 
 to her that at the root of the tree of tailoring the novitiate 
 must sit no less than six hours a day with his legs crossed 
 and doubled under him, clieerfully plying needle and thread ; 
 and that, without this probation, to undergo which the son 
 resolutely objects, all hope of his climbing to the top of the 
 lofty tree, and viewing mankind from an eminence, must be 
 surrendered. 
 
 " If you do not insist, my dear Mrs. Harrington, I tell 
 you candidly, your son may have a sliop, but he will bo no 
 tailor y 
 
 Mrs. Mel understands her son and his state of mind well 
 enough not to insist, and is resigned to the melancholy con- 
 sequence. 
 
 Then Mr. Goren discovers an extraordinary resemblance 
 between Evan and his father : remarking merely that the 
 youth is not the gentlenuin his father was in a shop, while 
 he admits that, had it been conjoined to business habits, he 
 should have envied his departed friend. 
 
 He has soon something fresh to tell ; and it is that young 
 Mr. Harrington is treating him cavalierly. That ho should 
 penetrate the idea or appreciate the merits of Mr. Goren's 
 Balance was hardly to be expected at present : the world did 
 not, and Mr. Goren blamed no young man for his ignorance. 
 Still a proper attendance was requisite. Mr. Goren thought 
 it very singular that young Mr. Harrington should demand 
 all the hours of the day for his own jturposes, — up to half-
 
 IN" WHICH WE HAVE TO SEE IN THE DAKK. 441 
 
 past four. He found it difficult to speak to hi in as a master, 
 and begged that Mrs. Harrington would, as a mother. 
 
 The reply of Mrs. Mel is dashed with a trifle of cajolery. 
 She has heard from her son, and seeing that her son takes all 
 that time from his right studies, to earn money wherewith to 
 pay debts of which Mr. Goren is cognizant, she trusts that 
 their oldest friend will overlook it. 
 
 Mr. Goren rejoins that he considers that he need not have 
 been excluded from young Mr. Harrington's confidence. 
 Moreover, it is a grief to him that the young gentleman 
 should refrain from accepting any of his suggestions as to 
 the propriety of requesting some, at least, of his rich and 
 titled acquaintance to confer on him the favour of their 
 patronage. 
 
 "Which they would not repent," adds Mr. Goren, "and 
 might learn to be very much obliged to him for, in return 
 for kindnesses extended to him." 
 
 Notwithstanding all my efforts, you see, the poor boy is 
 thrust into the shop. There he is, without a doubt. He 
 sleeps under Mr. Goren' s roof: he (since one cannot be too 
 positive in citing the punishment of such a Pagan) stands 
 behind a counter : he (and, oh ! choke, young loves, that 
 have hovered around him ! shrink from him in natural 
 horror, gentle ladies !) handles the shears. It is not my 
 fault. He would be a Pagan. 
 
 If you can think him human enough still to care to know 
 how he feels it, I must tell you that he feels it hardly at all. 
 After a big blow, a very little one scarcely counts. What 
 are outward forms and social ignominies to him whose 
 heart has been struck to the dust ? His Gods have fought 
 for him, and there he is ! He deserves no pity. 
 
 But he does not ask it of you, the callous Pagan ! Despise 
 him, if you please, and rank with the Countess, who despises 
 him most heartily. 
 
 Dipping further into the secrets of the post, we discovei 
 a brisk correspondence between Juliana Bonner and Mrs. 
 Strike. 
 
 " A thousand thanks to you, my dear Miss Bonner," writes
 
 442 EVAN HAURINGTON. 
 
 the latter lady. " The unaffected interest you take iu ray 
 brother touches me deeply. I know him to be worthy of 
 your good opinion. Yes, I will open my heart to you, 
 dearest Juliana ; and it shall, as you wish, be quite secret 
 between us. Not to a soul ! 
 
 " He is quite alone. My sisters Harriet and Louisa will 
 not see him, and I can only do so by stealth. His odd little 
 friend sometimes di'ives me out on Sundaj-s, to a place where 
 I meet him ; and the Duke of Belfield kindly lends me his 
 carriage. Oh, that we might never part ! I am only happy 
 with him ! 
 
 "Ah, do not doubt him, Juliana, for anything he does ! 
 You say, that now the Duke has obtained for him the Secre- 
 taryship to my husband's Company, he should not stoop to 
 that other thing, and you do not understand whj'. I will 
 tell you. Our poor father died in debt, and Evan receives 
 money which enables him by degrees to liquidate these debts, 
 on condition that he consents to be what / dislike as much as 
 you can. He bears it ; you can have no idea of his pride ! 
 He is too proud to own to himself that it debases him — too 
 proud to complain. It is a tangle — a net that drags him 
 down to it : but whatever he is outwardly, he is the noblest 
 human being in the world to me, and hut for Mm, oh, what 
 should I he ? Let me beg you to forgive it, if you can. My 
 darling has no friends. Is his temper as sweet as ever ? I 
 can answer that. Yes, only he is silent, and looks — when 
 you look into his eyes — colder, as men look when they will 
 not bear much from other men. 
 
 " He has not mentioned her name. I am sure she has not 
 ^^'Titten. 
 
 " Pity him, and jiray for him." 
 
 Juliana then makes a communication, which draws forth 
 the following : — 
 
 " Mistress of all the Beckley property — dearest, dearest 
 Juliana ! Oh ! how sincerely I congratulate you ! The 
 black on the letter alarmed me so, I could hardly open it, my 
 fingers trembled so; for I esteem you all at Beckley; but 
 when I had opened and read it, I was recompensed. You say 
 you are sorry for Rose. But surely what your Gi-andniama
 
 IN WHICH WE HAVE TO SEE IN THE DARK. 443 
 
 has done is quite right. It i?>just, in every sense. But why 
 am I not to tell Evan ? I am certain it would make him very 
 happy, and happiness of any kind he needs so much ! I will 
 obey you, of course, but I cannot see why. Do you know, 
 my dear child, you are extremely mysterious, and puzzle me. 
 Evan takes a pleasure in speaking of you. You and Lady 
 Joeelyn are his great themes. Why is he to be kept ignorant 
 of your good fortune ? The spitting of blood is bad. You 
 must winter in a warm climate. I do think that London is 
 far better for you in the late Autumn than Hampshire. May 
 I ask my sister Harriet to invite you to reside with her for 
 Bome weeks? Nothing, I know, would give her greater 
 pleasure." 
 
 Juliana answers this — 
 
 " If you love me — I sometimes hope that you do — but the 
 feeling of being loved is so strange to me that I can only 
 believe it at times — but, Caroline — there, I have mustered up 
 courage to call you by your Christian name at last — Oh, dear 
 Caroline ! if you do love me, do not tell Mr. Harrington. I 
 go on my knees to you to beg you not to tell him a word. I 
 have no reasons indeed — not any ; but I implore you again 
 never even to hint that I am anything but the person he knew 
 at Beckley. 
 
 " Kose has gone to Elburne House, where Eerdinand, her 
 friend, is to meet her. She rides and sings the same, and 
 keeps all her colour. 
 
 " She may not, as you imagine, have much sensibility. 
 Perhaps not enough. I am afraid that Rose is turning into a 
 very worldly woman ! 
 
 "As to what you kindly say about inviting me to London, 
 I should like it, and I am my own mistress. Do you know, 
 I tliiuk I am older than your brother ! I am t^^enij -three. 
 Pray, when yon write, tell me if he is older than that. But 
 should I not be a dreadful burden to you ? Sometimes I 
 have to keep to my chamber whole days and days. When 
 that happens now, I think of you entirely. See how I open 
 my heart to you. You say that you do to me. I wish I 
 could really think it." 
 
 A postscript begs Caroline " not to forget about the a(/es."
 
 444 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 In this fashion the two ladies open their hearts, and con- 
 trive to read one another perfectly in their mutual hypo- 
 crisies. 
 
 Some letters bearing the signatures of Mr. John Raikes, 
 and Miss Polly Wheedle, likewise pass. Polly inquires for 
 detailed accounts of the health and doings of Mr. Harrington. 
 Jack replies with full particulars of her own proceedings, and 
 mild corrections of her grammar. It is to be noted that 
 Polly grows much humbler to him on paper, which being 
 instantly perceived by the mercurial one, his caressing conde- 
 scension to her is very beautiful. She is taunted with Mr. 
 Nicholas Trim, and answers, after the lapse of a week, that 
 the aforesaid can be nothing to her, as he "went in a passion 
 to church last Sunday and got married." It appears that 
 they had quarrelled, " because I danced with you that 
 night." To this Mr. Eaikes rejoins in a style that would be 
 signified by "ahem!" in language, and an arrangement of 
 the shirt collar before the looking-glass, in action. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 IN THE DOMAIN OF TAILORDOM. 
 
 There was peace in Mr. Goren's shop. Badgered Ministers, 
 bankrupt merchants, diplomatists with a headache — any of 
 our modern grandees under difficulties, might have envied 
 that peace over which Mr. Goren presided : and he was an 
 enviable man. He loved his craft, he believed that he had 
 not succeeded the millions of antecedent tailors in vain ; and, 
 excepting that trifling coquettry with shirt-fronts, viz., the 
 red crosses, which a shrewd rival had very soon eclipsed by 
 representing nymphs triangularly posed, he devoted himself 
 to his business from morning to night ; as rigid in demanding 
 respect from those beneath him, as he was profuse in lavishing 
 it on his patrons. His public boast was, that he owed no 
 man a farthing ; his secret comfort, that he possessed two
 
 IN THE DOMAIN OF TAILORDOM. 445 
 
 thousand pounds in the Funds. But Mr. Goren did not stop 
 here. Behind these external characteristics he nursed a passion. 
 Evan was astonished and pleased to find in him an enthusiastic 
 fern-collector. Not that Mr. Harrington shared the passion, 
 but the sight of these brown roots spread out, ticketed, on 
 the stained paper, after supper, when the shutters were up 
 and the house defended from the hostile outer world ; the old 
 man poring over them, and naming this and that spot where, 
 during his solitary Saturday afternoon and Sunday excursions, 
 he had lighted on the rare samples exhibited : this conti'ast 
 of the quiet evening with the sordid day humanized Mr. 
 Goren to him. He began to see a spirit in the rigid trades- 
 man not so utterly dissimilar to his own, and he fancied that 
 he, too, had a taste for ferns. Round Beckley how they 
 abounded ! 
 
 He told Mr. Goren so, and Mr. Goren said : — 
 
 " Some day we'll jog down there together, as the saying 
 goes." 
 
 Mr. Goren spoke of it as an ordinary event, likely to 
 happen in the days to come : not as an incident the mere 
 mention of which, as being probable, stopped the breath and 
 made the pulses leap. 
 
 For now Evan's education taught him to feel that he was 
 at his lowest degree. Never now could Rose stoop to him. 
 He carried the shop on his back. She saw the brand of it on 
 his forehead. Well ! and what was Bose to him, beyond a 
 blissful memory, a star that he had once touched ? Self-love 
 kept him strong by day, but in the darkness of night came 
 his misery; wakening from tender dreams, he would find his 
 heart sinking under a horrible pressure, and then the fair 
 fresh face of Bose swam over him ; the hours of Beckley were 
 revived; with intolerable anguish he saw that she was blame- 
 less — that he alone was to blame. Yet worse was it when 
 his closed eyelids refused to conjure up the sorrowful lovely 
 nightmare, and he lay like one in a trance, entombed — 
 wretched Pagan ! feeling all that had been blindly ; when the 
 Past lay beside him like a corpse that he had slain. 
 
 These nightly torments helped him to brave what the 
 morning brought. Insensibly also, as Time hardened hia
 
 446 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 sufferings, Evan asked himself what the shame of his position 
 consisted in. He grew stiff-necked. His Pagan virtues 
 stood up one by one to support him. Andrew, courageously 
 evading the interdict that forbade him to visit Evan, would 
 meet him by appointment at City taverns, and flatly offered 
 him a place in the Brewery. Evan declined it, on the pretext 
 that, having received old Tom's money for the year, he must 
 at least work out that term according to the conditions. 
 Andrew fumed and sneered at Tailordom. Evan said that 
 there was peace in Mr. Goren's shop. His sharp senses 
 discerned in Andrew's sneer a certain sincerity, and he re- 
 volted against it. Mr. John Raikes, too, burlesqued Society 
 so well, that he had the satisfaction of laughing at his enemy 
 occasionally. The latter gentleman was still a pensioner, 
 flying about town with the Countess de Saldar, in deadly 
 fear lest that fascinating lady should discover the seat of his 
 fortune ; happy, notwithstanding. In the mirror of Evan's 
 little world, he beheld the great one from which he was 
 banished. 
 
 Now the dusk of a winter's afternoon was closing over 
 London, when a carriage drew up in front of Mr. Goren's 
 shop, out of which, to Mr. Goren's chagrin, a lady stepped, 
 with her veil down. The lady entered, and said that she 
 wished to speak to Mr. Harrington. Mr. Goren made way 
 for her to his pupil ; and was amazed to see her fall into his 
 arms, and hardly gratified to hear her say : " Pardon me, 
 darling, for coming to you in this place." 
 
 Evan asked permission to occupy the parlour. 
 
 " My place," said Mr. Goren, with humble severity, over 
 his spectacles, "is very poor. Such as it is, it is at the lady's 
 service." 
 
 Alone with her, Evan was about to ease his own feelings 
 by remarking to the effect that Mr. Goren was human like 
 the rest of us, but Caroline cried, with unwonted vivacity : — 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know; but I thought only of you. I have 
 such news for you! You will and must pardon my coming — 
 that's my first thought, sensitive darling that you are! " She 
 kissed him fondly. "Juliana Bonner is in town, staying 
 with us ! "
 
 IN THE DOMAIN OF TAILORDOM. 4 47 
 
 "Is that your news?" asked Evan, pressing her against 
 his breast. 
 
 " No, dear love — but still ! You have no idea what her 
 fortune — Mrs. Bonner has died and left her — but I mustn't 
 tell you. Oh, my darling ! how she admires you ! She — 
 she could recompense you ; if you would ! We will put that 
 by, for the present. Dear ! the Duke has begged you, 
 through me, to accept — I think it's to be a sort of bailiff to 
 his estates — I don't know rightly. It's a very honourable 
 post, that gentlemen take : and the income you are to have, 
 Evan, will be near a thousand a year. Now, what do I 
 deserve for my news? " 
 
 She put up her mouth for another kiss, out of breath. 
 
 " True ? " looked Evan's eyes. 
 
 "True!" she said, smiling, and feasting on his bewilder- 
 ment. 
 
 After the bubbling in his brain had a little subsided, Evan 
 breathed as a man ou whom fresh air is blown. Were not 
 these tidings of release? His ridiculous pride must never- 
 theless inquire whether Caroline had been begging this for 
 him. 
 
 "No, dear — indeed!" Caroline asserted with more than 
 natural vehemence. " It's something that you yourself have 
 done that has pleased him. I don't know what. Only he 
 says, he believes you are a man to be trusted with the keys 
 of anything — and so j-ou are. You are to call on him 
 to-morrow. Will you ? " 
 
 While Evan was replying, her face became white. She 
 had heard the Major's voice in the shop. His military step 
 advanced, and Caroline, exclaiming, "Don't let me see him!" 
 bustled to a door. Evan nodded, and she slipped through. 
 The next moment he was facing the stiff marine. 
 
 " Well, young man," the Major commenced, and, seating 
 himself, added, "be seated. I want to talk to you seriously, 
 sir. You didn't think fit to wait till I had done with the 
 Directors to-day. You're devilishly out in your discipline, 
 whatever you are at two and two. I suppose there's no fear 
 of being intruded on here? None of your acquaintances 
 likely to be introducing themselves to me ? "
 
 448 EVAN HAREINGTON. 
 
 " There is not one that I would introduce to you," said Evan. 
 
 The Major nodded a brief recognition of the compliment, 
 and then, throwing his back against the chair, fired out : 
 " Come, sir, is this your doing?" 
 
 In military phrase, Evan now changed front. His first 
 thought had been that the Major had come for his wife. 
 He perceived that he himself was the special object of his 
 visitation. 
 
 " I must ask you what you allude to," he answered. 
 
 " You are not at your office, but you will speak to me as 
 if there was some distinction between us," said the Major. 
 "*My having married your sister does not reduce me to the 
 ranks, I hope." 
 
 The Major drummed his knuckles on the table, after this 
 impressive delivery. 
 
 "Hem!" he resumed. "Now, sir, understand, before you 
 speak a word, that I can see through any number of infernal 
 lies. I see that you're prepared for prevarication. By George ! 
 it shall come out of you, if I get it by main force. The Duke 
 compelled me to give you that appointment in my Company. 
 Now, sir, did you, or did you not, go to him and deliberately 
 state to him that you believed the affairs of the Company to 
 be in a bad condition — infamously handled, likely to involve 
 his honour as a gentleman ? I ask you, sir, did you do this, 
 or did you not do it ? " 
 
 Evan waited till the sharp rattle of the Major's close had 
 quieted. 
 
 " If I am to answer the wording of your statement, I may 
 say that I did not." 
 
 "Very good; very good; that will do. Are you aware 
 that the Duke has sent in his resignation as a Director of our 
 Company?" 
 
 " I hear of it first from you." 
 
 " Confound your familiarity ! " cried the irritable officer, 
 rising. "Am I always to be told that I married your sister ? 
 Address me, sir, as becomes your duty." 
 
 Evan heard the words " beggarly tailor " mumbled : " out 
 of the gutters," and "cursed connection." He stood in the 
 attitude of attention, while the Major continued : —
 
 IN THE DOMAIN OF TAILORDOM. 449 
 
 "Now, young man, listen to those facts. You came to me 
 this day last week, and complained that you did not compre- 
 hend some of our transactions and affairs. I explained them 
 to your damned stupidity. You went away. Three days 
 after that, you had an interview with the Duke. Stop, sir ! 
 What the devil do you mean by daring to speak while I am 
 speaking? You saw the Duke, I say. Now, what took 
 place at that interview?" 
 
 The Major tried to tower over Evan powerfully, as he puf. 
 this query. They were of a common height, and to do so, he 
 had to rise on his toes, so that the effect was but momentary. 
 
 " I think I am not bound to reply," said Evan. 
 
 " Yery well, sir ; that will do." The Major's fingers were 
 evidently itching for an absent rattan. "Confess it or not, 
 you are dismissed from your post. Do you hear ? You are 
 kicked in the street. A beggarly tailor you were born, and a 
 beggarly tailor you will die." 
 
 " I must beg you to stop, now," said Evan. " I told you 
 that I was not bound to reply : but I will. If you will sit 
 down. Major Strike, you shall hear what you wish to 
 know." 
 
 This being presently complied with, though not before a 
 glare of the Major's eyes had shown his doubt whether it 
 might not be construed into insolence, Evan pursued : 
 
 "I came to you and informed you that I could not reconcile 
 the cash-accounts of the Company, and that certain of the 
 later proceedings appeared to me to jeopardize its prosperity. 
 Your explanations did not satisfy me. I admit that you 
 enjoined me to be silent. But the Duke, as a Director, had 
 as strong a right to claim me as his servant, and when he 
 questioned me as to the position of the Company, I told him 
 what I thought, just as I had told you." 
 
 " You told him we were jobbers and swindlers, sir ! " 
 
 " The Duke inquired of me whether I would, under the 
 circumstances, while proceedings were going on which I did 
 not approve of, take the responsibility of allowing my name 
 to remain " 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! " the Major burst out. This was too good 
 a joke. The name of a miserable young tailor! — " Go on,
 
 450 EVAN HAREINGTOK 
 
 sir, go on ! " He swallowed his laughter like oil on his 
 rage. 
 
 " I have said sufficient." 
 
 Jumping up, the Major swore by the Lord, tliat he had said 
 sufficient. 
 
 "Now, look you here, young man." He squared his finger 
 before Evan, eyeing him under a hard frown, " You have 
 been playing your game again, as you did down at that place 
 in Hampshire. I heard of it — deserved to be shot, by 
 heaven ! You think you have got hold of the Luke, and 
 you throw me over. You imagine, I dare say, that I will 
 allow my wife to be talked about to further your interests — 
 you self-seeking young dog ! As long as he lent the Company 
 his name, I permitted a great many things. Do you think 
 me a blind idiot, sir ? But now she must learn to be satisfied 
 with people who've got no titles, or carriages, and who can't 
 give hundred guinea compliments. You're all of a piece — a 
 set of . . . ." 
 
 The Major paused, for half a word was on his mouth which 
 had drawn lightning to Evan's eyes. 
 
 Not to be baffled, he added : "But look you, sir. I may 
 be ruined. I dare say the Company will go to the dogs— 
 every ass will follow a Duke. But, mark, this goes on no 
 more. I will be no woman's cully. Mind, sir, I take excel- 
 lent care that you don't traffic in your sister ! " 
 
 The Major delivered this culminating remark with a well- 
 timed deflection of his forefinger, and slightly turned aside 
 when he had done. 
 
 You might have seen Evan's figure rocking, as he stood 
 with his eyes steadily levelled on his sister's husband. 
 
 The Major, who, whatever he was, was physically no 
 coward, did not fail to interpret the look, and challenge it. 
 
 Evan walked to the door, opened it, and said, between his 
 teeth, " You must go at once." 
 
 "Eh, sir, eh? what's this?" exclaimed the warrior: but 
 the door was open, Mr. Goren was in the shop ; the scandal 
 of an assault in such a house, and the consequent possibility 
 of his matrimonial alliance becoming bruited in the news- 
 papers, held his arm after it had given an involuntary jerk.
 
 THE COUNTESS STILL SCENTS GAME. 451 
 
 He marched through with becoming dignity, and marched 
 out into the street ; and if necks unelastic and heads erect 
 may be taken as the sign of a proud soul and of nobility of 
 mind, my artist has the Major for his model. 
 
 Evan displayed no such a presence. He returned to the 
 little parlour, shut and locked the door to the shop, and for- 
 getting that one was near, sat down, covered his eyes, and 
 gave way to a fit of tearless sobbing. "With one foot in the 
 room Caroline hung watching him. A pain that she had 
 never known wrung her nerves. His whole manhood seemed 
 to be shaken, as if by regular pulsations of intensest miseiy. 
 She stood in awe of the sight till her limbs failed her, and 
 then staggering to him she fell on her knees, clasping his, 
 passionately kissing them. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 IN WHICH THE COTJJ^ITESS STILL SCENTS GAME. 
 
 Mr. John Eaikes and his friend Frank Remand, surnamed 
 Franko, to suit the requirements of metre, in which they 
 habitually conversed, were walking arm-in-arm along the 
 drive in Society's Park on a fine frosty Sunday afternoon of 
 midwinter. The quips and jokes of Franko were lively, and 
 he looked into the carriages passing, as if he knew that a 
 cheerful countenance is not without charms for their inmates. 
 Jack's face, on the contrary, was barren and bleak. Being 
 of that nature that when a pun was made he must perforce 
 outstrip it, he fell into Franko' s humour from time to time, 
 but albeit aware that what he uttered was good, and by com- 
 parison transcendent, he refused to enjoy it. Nor when 
 Franco started from his arm to declaim a passage, did he do 
 other than make limp eiforts to unite himself to Franko 
 again. A further sign of immense depression in him was that 
 instead of the creative, it was the critical faculty he exercised, 
 and rather than reply to Franko in his form of speech, he 
 
 gg2
 
 452 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 scanned occasional lines and objected to particular phrases. 
 He had clearly exchanged the sanguine for the bilious tempe- 
 rament, and was fast stranding on the rocky shores of prose. 
 Pranko bore this very well, for he, like Jack in happier days, 
 claimed all the glances of lovely woman as his own, and on 
 his right there flowed a stream of Beauties. At last he was 
 compelled to observe : " This change is sudden : wherefore so 
 downcast ? With tigrine claw thou mangiest my speech, thy 
 cheeks are like December's pippin, and thy tongue most 
 sour ! " 
 
 " Then of it make a farce ! " said Jack, for the making of 
 farces was Franko's profession. "Wherefore so downcast ! 
 What a line ! There ! let's walk on. Let us the left foot 
 forward stout advance. I care not for the herd." 
 
 '"Tislove!" cried Franko. 
 
 " Ay, an' it be ! " Jack gloomily returned. 
 
 " For ever cruel is the sweet Saldar ? " 
 
 Jack winced at this name. 
 
 '* A truce to banter, Franko!" he said sternly: but the 
 subject was opened, and the wound. 
 
 "Love!" he pursued, mildly groaning. "Suppose you 
 adored a fascinating woman, and she knew — positively knew 
 — your manly weakness, and you saw her smiling upon 
 everybody, and she told you to be happy, and egad, when you 
 came to reflect, you found that after three months' suit you 
 were nothing better than her errand-boy ? A thing to boast 
 of, is it not, quotha ? " 
 
 " Love's yellow-fever, jealousy, methinks," Franko com- 
 menced in reply ; but Jack spat at the emphasized word. 
 
 " Jealousy ! — who's jealous of clergymen and that crew ? 
 Not I, by Pluto ! I carried five messages to one fellow with 
 a coat-tail straight to his heels, last week. She thought I 
 should drive my curricle — I couldn't aiford an omnibus ! I 
 had to run. When I returned to her I was dirty. She made 
 remarks ! " 
 
 " Thy sufferings are severe — but such is woman ! " said 
 Franco. " 'Gad, it's a good idea, though." He took out a 
 note-book and pencilled down a point or two. Jack watched 
 the process sardonically.
 
 THE COUNTESS STILL SCENTS GAME. 453 
 
 " My tragedy is, then, thy farce ! " he exclaimed. " "Well, 
 be it so ! I believe I shall come to song- writing again myself 
 shortly — beneath the shield of Catnach I'll a nation's ballads 
 frame. I've spent my income in foiu' months, and now I'm 
 living on my curricle. I underlet it. It's like trade — it's 
 as bad as poor old Harrington, by Jove ! But that isn't the 
 ■worst, Franko ! " Jack dropped his voice : " I believe I'm 
 furiously loved by a poor country wench." 
 
 ** Morals! " was Franko's most encouraging' reproof. 
 
 " Oh, I don't think I've even kissed her," rejoined Jack, 
 who doubted because his imagination was vivid. " It's my 
 intellect that dazzles her. I've got letters — she calls me 
 clever. By Jove ! since I gave up di-iving I've had thoughts 
 of rushing down to her and making her mine in spite of 
 home, family, fortune, friends, name, position — every- 
 thing ! I have, indeed." 
 
 Franko looked natui'ally astonished at this amount of 
 self-sacrifiee. " The Countess ? " he shrewdly suggested. 
 
 "I'd rather be my Folly's prince, 
 Than yon great lady's errand-boy ! " 
 
 Jack burst into song. 
 
 He stretched out his hand, as if to discard all the great 
 ladies who were passing. By the strangest misfortune ever 
 known, the direction taken by his fingers was toward a 
 carriage wherein, beautifully smiling opposite an elaborately 
 reverend gentleman of middle age, the Countess de Saldar was 
 sitting. This great lady is not to be blamed for deeming that 
 her errand-boy was pointing her out vulgarly on a public 
 promenade. Ineffable disdain curled off her sweet olive 
 visage. She turned her head. 
 
 "I'll go down to that girl to-night," said Jack, with com- 
 pressed passion. And then he hurried Franko along to the 
 bridge, where, behold, the Countess alighted with the gentle- 
 man, and walked beside him into the gardens. 
 
 " Follow her," said Jack, in agitation. " Do you see her ? 
 by yon long-tailed raven's side ? Follow her, Franko! See 
 it he kisses her hand — anything ! and meet me here m half 
 an hour. I'll have evidence ! "
 
 454 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 Erankodid not altogether like the office, but Jack's dinners, 
 singular luck, and superiority in the encounter of puns, 
 gave him the upper hand with his friend, and so Frauko 
 went. 
 
 Turning away from the last glimpse of his Countess, Jack 
 crossed the bridge, and had not strolled far beneath the bare 
 branches of one of the long green walks, when he perceived 
 a gentleman with two ladies leaning on him. 
 
 " Now, there," moralized Jack ; " now, what do you say to 
 that ? Do you call that fair ? He can't be happy, and it's 
 not in nature for them to be satisfied. And yet, if I went up 
 and attempted to please them all by taking one away, the 
 probabilities are that he would knock me down. Such is 
 life ! We worUt be made comfortable ! " 
 
 Nevertheless, he passed them with indifference, for it was 
 merely the principle he objected to; and, indeed, he was so 
 wrapped in his own conceptions, that his name had to be 
 called behind him twice before he recognized Evan Harring- 
 ton, Mrs. Strike, and Miss Bonner. The arrangement he had 
 previously thought good, was then spontaneously adopted. 
 Mrs. Strike reposed her fair hand upon Jack's arm, and 
 Juliana, with a timid glance of pleasure, walked ahead in 
 Evan's charge. Close neighbourhood between the couples 
 was not kept. The genius of Mr. John E,aikes was wasted 
 in manoeuvres to lead his beautiful companion into places 
 where he could be seen with her, and envied. It was, per- 
 haps, more flattering that she should betray a marked disposi- 
 tion to prefer solitude in his society. But this idea illumined 
 him only near the moment of parting. Then he saw it .; 
 then he groaned in soul, and besought Evan to have one more 
 promenade, saying, with characteristic cleverness in the 
 masking of his real thoughts : " It gives us an appetite, you 
 know." 
 
 In Evan's face and Juliana's there was not much sign that 
 any protraction of their walk together would aid this bene- 
 ficent process of nature. He took her hand gently, and when 
 he quitted it, it dropped. 
 
 " The Rose, the Rose of Beckley Court ! " Jack sang aloud. 
 " Why, this is a day of meetings. Behold John Thomas in
 
 THE COUNTESS STILL SCENTS GAME. 455 
 
 the rear — a tower of plush and powder ! Shall I rush — shall 
 I pluck her from the aged stem ? " 
 
 On the gravel-walk above them Rose passed with her aris- 
 tocratic grandmother, miiffled in furs. She marched delibe- 
 ratelj^ looking coldly before her. Evan's face was white, 
 and Juliana, whose eyes were fixed on him, shuddered. 
 
 "I'm chilled," she murmured to Caroline. " Let us go." 
 
 Caroline eyed Evan with a meaning sadness. 
 
 " We will hurry to our carriage," she said. " I will 
 write." 
 
 They were seen to make a little circuit so as not to approach 
 Hose; after whom, thoughtless of his cruelty, Evan bent his 
 steps slowly, halting when she reached her carriage. He be- 
 lieved — rather, he knew that she had seen him. There was 
 a consciousness in the composed outlines of her face as she 
 passed : the indifi'erence was too perfect. Let her hate him, 
 if she pleased. It recompensed him that the air she wore 
 should make her appearance more womanly ; and that black 
 dress and crape-bonnet, in some way, touched him to mourn- 
 ful thoughts of her that helped a partial forgetfulness of 
 wounded self. 
 
 Rose had driven off. He was looking at the same spot, 
 where Caroline's hand waved from her carriage. Juliana was 
 not seen. Caroline requested her to nod to him once, but she 
 would not. She leaned back hiding her eyes, and moving a 
 petulant shoulder at Caroline's hand. 
 
 "Has he offended jon, my child ? " 
 
 Juliana answered harshly : 
 
 "No— no." 
 
 "Are my hopes false ?" asked the mellow voice. 
 
 No reply was heard. The wheels rolled on, and Caroline 
 tried other subjects, knowing possibly that they would lead 
 Juliana back to tliis of her own accord. 
 
 "You saw how she treated him?" the latter presently 
 said, without moving her hand from before her eyes. 
 
 " Yes, dear. He forgives her, and will forget it." 
 
 "Oh!" she clenched her long thin hand, "I pray that 
 I maj'- not die before I have made her repent it. She 
 shall!"
 
 456 EVAN HARRINGTOK 
 
 Juliana looked glitteringly in Caroline's face, and then fell 
 a-weeping, and suffered herself to be folded and caressed. 
 The storm was long subsiding. 
 
 "Dearest ! you are better now? " said Caroline, 
 
 She whispered : " Yes." 
 
 " My brother has only to know you, dear " 
 
 "Hush! That's past." Juliana stopped her; and, on a 
 deep breath that threatened to break to sobs, she added in 
 a sweeter voice than was common to her, "Ah, why — why 
 did you tell him about the Beckley property ? " 
 
 Caroline vainly strove to deny that she had told him. 
 Juliana's head shook mournfully at her; and now Caroline 
 knew what Juliana meant when she begged so earnestly that 
 Evan should be kept ignorant of her change of fortune. 
 
 Some days after this the cold struck Juliana's chest, and 
 she sickened. The three sisters held a sitting to consider 
 what it was best to do with her. Caroline proposed to take 
 her to Beckley without delay. Harriet was of opinion that 
 the least they could do was to write to her relatives and make 
 them instantly aware of her condition. 
 
 But the Countess said " No," to both. Her argument was, 
 that Juliana being independent, they were by no means 
 bound to "bundle" her, in her state, back to a place where 
 she had been so shamefully maltreated : that here she would 
 live, while there she would certainly die : that absence of 
 excitement was her medicine, and that here she had it. 
 Mrs. Andrew, feeling herself responsible as the young lady's 
 hostess, did not acquiesce in the Countess's views till she had 
 consulted Juliana; and then apologies for giving trouble were 
 breathed on the one hand ; sympathy, condolences, and pro- 
 fessions of esteem, on the other. Juliana said, she was but 
 slightly ill, would soon recover. Entreated not to leave them 
 before she was thoroughly re-established, and to consent to 
 be looked on as one of the family, she sighed, and said it was 
 the utmost she could hope. Of course the ladies took this 
 compliment to themselves, but Evan began to wax in impor- 
 tance. The Countess thought it nearly time to acknowledge 
 him, and supported the idea by a citation of the doctrine, 
 
 I
 
 THE COUNTESS STILL SCENTS GAME. 457 
 
 that to forgive is Christian. It happened, however, that 
 Harriet, who had less art and more will than her sisters, was 
 inflexible. She, living in a society but a few steps above 
 Tailordom, however magnificent in expenditure and resources, 
 abhorred it solemnly. From motives of prudence, as well as 
 personal disgust, she continued firm in declining to receive 
 her brother. She would not relent when the Countess pointed 
 out a dim, a dazzling prospect, growing out of Evan's proxi- 
 mity to the heiress of Beckley Court; she was not to be 
 moved when Caroline suggested that the specific for the 
 frail invalid was Evan's presence. As to this, Juliana was 
 sufficiently open, though, as she conceived, her art was 
 extreme. 
 
 "Do you know why I stay to vex and trouble you?" 
 she asked Caroline. " Well, then, it is that I may see your 
 brother united to you all : and then I shall go, happy." 
 
 The pretext served also to make him the subject of many 
 conversations. Twice a week a bunch of the best flowers 
 that could be got were sorted and aiTanged by her, and sent 
 namelessly to brighten Evan's chamber. 
 
 " I may do such a thing as this, you know, without incur- 
 ring blame," she said. 
 
 The sight of a love so humble in its strength and affluence, 
 sent Caroline to Evan on a fruitless errand. What availed it 
 that, accused of giving lead to his pride in refusing the heiress, 
 Evan should declare that he did not love her ? He did not, 
 Caroline admitted as possible, but he might. He might learn 
 to love her, and therefore he was wrong in wounding her 
 heart. She related flattering anecdotes. She drew tearful 
 pictures of Juliana's love for him; and noticing how he 
 seemed to prize his bouquet of flowers, said : 
 
 " Do you love them for themselves, or the hand that sent 
 them?" 
 
 Evan blushed, for it had been a struggle for him to receive 
 them, as he thought, from Eose in secret. The flowers lost 
 their value; the song that had arisen out of them, "Thou 
 livest in my memory," ceased. But they came still. How 
 many degrees from love gratitude may be, I have not 
 reckoned. I rather fear it lies on the opposite shore. Erom
 
 458 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 a youth to a girl, it may yet be very tender ; the more so, 
 because their ages commonly exclude such a sentiment, and 
 nature seems willing to make a transition stage of it. Ev.an 
 wrote to Juliana. Incidentally he expressed a wish to see 
 her. Juliana was under doctor's interdict : but she was not 
 to be prevented from going when Evan wished her to go. 
 They met in the park, as before, and he talked to her 
 five minutes through the carriage window. 
 
 "Was it worth the risk, my poor child?" said Caroline, 
 pityingly. 
 
 Juliana cried : " Oh ! I would give anything to live ! " 
 
 A man might have thought that she made no direct 
 answer. 
 
 " Don't you think I am patient ? Don't you think I am 
 very patient ? " she asked Caroline, winningly, on their way 
 home, 
 
 Caroline could scarcely forbear from smiling at the feverish 
 anxiety she showed for a reply that should confirm her words 
 and hopes. 
 
 " So we must all be ! " she said, and that common-place 
 remark caused Juliana to exclaim : " Prisoners have lived in 
 a dungeon, on bread and water, for years ! " 
 
 Whereat Caroline kissed her so very tenderly that Juliana 
 tried to look surprised, and failing, her thin lips quivered; 
 she breathed a soft "hush," and fell on Caroline's bosom. 
 
 She was transparent enough in one thing ; but the flame 
 which burned within her did not light her through. Others, 
 on other matters, were quite as transparent to her. Caroline 
 never knew that she had as much as told her the moral 
 suicide Evan had committed at Beckley; so cunningly had 
 she been probed at intervals with little casual questions ; 
 random interjections, that one who loved him could not fail 
 to meet ; petty doubts requiring elucidations. And the 
 Countess, kind as her sentiments had grown toward the 
 afflicted creature, was compelled to proclaim her densely 
 stupid in material affairs. For the Countess had an itch of 
 the simplest feminine curiosity to know whether the dear 
 child had any notion of accomplishing a certain holy duty of 
 the perishable on tliis earth, who miglit jjossess worldly goods;
 
 THE COUNTESS STILL SCENTS GAME. 450 
 
 and no hints — not even plain speaking, would do. Juliana 
 did not understand her at all. 
 
 The Countess exhibited a mourning-ring on her finger, 
 Mrs. Bonner's bequest to her. 
 
 "How fervent is my gratitude to my excellent departed 
 friend for this ! A legacy, however trifling, embalms our 
 dear lost ones in the memory ! " 
 
 It was of no avail. Juliana continued densely stupid. 
 Was she not worse? The Countess could not, "in decency, ' 
 as she observed, reveal to her who had prompted Mrs. Bonner 
 so to bequeath the Beckley estates as to " ensure sweet 
 Juliana's future;" but ought not Juliana to divine it? — 
 Juliana at least had hints sufficient. 
 
 Cold Spring winds were now blowing. Juliana had resided 
 no less than two months with the Cogglesbys. She was en- 
 treated still to remain, and she did. From Lady Jocelyn she 
 heard not a word of remonstrance ; but from Miss Carrington 
 and !Mrs. Shorne she received admonishing letters. Finally, 
 Mr. Harry Jocelyn jjresented himself. In London, and with- 
 out any of that needful subsistance which a young gentleman 
 feels the want of in London more than elsewhere, Harrj^ 
 began to have thoughts of his own, without any instigation 
 from his aunts, about devoting himself to business. So he 
 sent his card up to his cousin, and was graciously met in the 
 drawing-room by tlie Countess, who ruffled him and smoothed 
 him, and would possibly have distracted his soul from busi- 
 ness had his circumstances been less straitened. Juliana was 
 declared to be too unwell to see him that day. He called a 
 second time, and enjoyed a similar greeting. His third visit 
 procured him an audience alone with Juliana, when, at once, 
 despite the warnings of his aunts, the frank fellow 
 plunged, medias res. Mrs. Bonner had left him totally 
 dependent on his parents and his chances. 
 
 '' A desperate state of things, isn't it, Juley ? I think I 
 shall go for a soldier — common, you know." 
 
 Instead of shrieking out against such a debasement of his 
 worth and gentility, as was to be expected, Juliana said : 
 
 " That's what Mr. Harrington thought of doing."
 
 460 EVAN HAERINGTON. 
 
 "He ! If he'd had the pluck he would." 
 
 "His duty forbade it, and he did not." 
 
 " Duty! a confounded tailor ! What fools we were to have 
 him at Beckley ! " 
 
 " Has the Countess been unkind to you, Harry ? " 
 
 " I haven't seen her to-day, and don't want to. It's my 
 little dear old Juley I came for." 
 
 "Dear Harry!" she thanked him with eyes and hands. 
 " Come often, won't you? " 
 
 " Why, ain't you coming back to us, Juley ? " 
 
 " Not yet. They are very kind to me here. How is 
 Rose?" 
 
 "Oh, quite jolly. She and Ferdinand are thick again. 
 Balls every night. She dances like the deuce. They want 
 me to go ; but I ain't the sort of figure for those places, and 
 besides, I shan't dance till I can lead you out." 
 
 A spur of laughter at Harry's generous nod brought on 
 Juliana's cough. Harry watched her little body shaken and 
 her reddened eyes. Some real emotion — perhaps the fear 
 which healthy young people experience at the sight of deadly 
 disease — made Harry touch her arm with the softness of a 
 child's touch. 
 
 "Don't be alarmed, Harry," she said. "It's nothing — 
 only Winter. I'm determined to get well." 
 
 "That's right," quoth he, recovering. "I know you've 
 got pluck, or you wouldn't have stood that operation." 
 
 " Let me see : when was that ? " she asked slyly. 
 
 Harry coloured, for it related to a time when he had not 
 behaved prettily to her. 
 
 " There, Juley, that's all forgotten. I was a fool — a 
 scoundrel, if you like. I'm sorry for it now." 
 
 " Do you want money, Harry?" 
 
 " Oh, money ! " 
 
 " Have you repaid Mr. Harrington yet? " 
 
 "There — no, I haven't. Bother it! that fellow's name's 
 always on your tongue. I'll tell you what, Juley — but it's 
 no use. He's a low, vulgar adventurer." 
 
 "Dear Harry," said Juliana, softly; "don't bring your 
 axmts with you when you come to see me." 
 
 i
 
 THE COUNTESS STILL SCENTS GAME. 461 
 
 "Well, then I'll tell you, Julcj'. It's enough that he's a 
 beastly tailor." 
 
 " Quite enough," she responded; " and he is neither a foul 
 nor a scoundrel." 
 
 Harry's memory for his own speech was not quick. When 
 Juliana's calm glance at him called it up, he jumped from his 
 chair, crying: "Upon my honour, I'll tell you what, Juley! If 
 I had money to pay him to-morrow, I'd insult him on the spot." 
 
 Juliana meditated, and said : " Then all your friends must 
 wish you to continue poor." 
 
 This girl had once been on her knees to him. She had 
 looked up to him with admiring love, and he had given her a 
 crumb or so occasionally, thinking her something of a fool, and 
 more of a pest ; but now he could not say a word to her without 
 beiug baffled in an elderly- sisterly tone that exasperated him 
 so far that he positively wished to marry her, and coming to 
 the point, offered himself with downright sincerity, and was 
 rejected. Harry left in a passion. Juliana confided the 
 secret to Caroline, who suggested interested motives, which 
 Juliana would not hear of. 
 
 "Ah," said the Countess, when Caroline mentioned the 
 case to her, "of course the poor thing cherishes her first ofier. 
 She would believe a curate to be disinterested ! But mind 
 that Evan has due warning when she is to meet him. Mind 
 that he is dressed becomingly." 
 
 Caroline asked why. 
 
 " Because, my dear, she is enamoured of his person. These 
 little unhealthy creatures are always attracted by the person. 
 She thinks it to be Evan's qualities. I know better : it is 
 his person. Beckley Court may be lost by a shabby coat ! " 
 
 The Countess had recovered from certain spiritual languors 
 into which she had fallen after her retreat. Ultimate victory 
 hung still in the balance. Oh ! if Evan would only marry 
 this little suff'erer, who was so sure to die within a year! or, if 
 she lived (for marriage has often been as a resm'rection to some 
 poor female invalids), there was Beckley Court, a splendid 
 basis for future achievements. Beflecting in this fashion, 
 the Countess pardoned her brother. Glowing hopes hung 
 fresh lamps in her charitable breast. She stepped across the
 
 462 EVAN HAREINGTOK 
 
 threshold of Tailordom, won Mr. Goren's heart by her con- 
 descension, and worked Evan into a sorrowful mood concerning 
 the invalid. Was not Juliana his only active friend ? In 
 return, he said things which only required a little colouring 
 to be very acceptable to her. The game waxed exciting 
 again. The enemy (the Jocelyn party), was alert, but 
 powerless. The three sisters were almost wrought to perform 
 a sacrifice far exceeding Evan's. They nearly decided to 
 summon him to the house : but the matter being broached at 
 table one evening, Major Strike objected to it so angrily that 
 they abandoned it, with the satisfactory conclusion that if 
 they did wrong it was the Major's fault. 
 
 Meantime Juliana had much on her conscience. She knew 
 Evan to be innocent, and she allowed Eose to think him 
 guilty. Could she bring her heart to join them ? That was 
 not in her power : but desiring to be lulled by a compromise, 
 she devoted herself to make his relatives receive him^ and 
 on days of bitter winds she would drive out to meet him, 
 answering all expostulations with — " I should not go if he 
 were here." 
 
 The game waxed hot. It became a question whether 
 Evan should be admitted to the house in spite of the Major. 
 Juliana now made an extraordinary move. Having the 
 Count with her in the carriage one day, she stopped in front 
 of Mr. Goren's shop, and Evan had to come out. The Count 
 returned home extremely mystified. Once more the unhappy 
 Countess was obliged to draw bills on the fabulous ; and as 
 she had recommenced the system, which was not without its 
 fascinations to her, Jidiana, who had touched the spring, had 
 the full benefit of it. The Countess had deceived her before 
 — what of that? She spoke things sweet to hear. Who 
 could be false that gave her heart food on which it lived ? 
 
 One night Juliana returned from her drive alarmingly ill. 
 She was watched through the night by Caroline and the 
 Countess alternately. In the morning the sisters met. 
 
 " She has consented to let us send for a doctor," said 
 Caroline. 
 
 "Her chief desire seems to be a lawyer," said the Countess. 
 
 " Yes, but the doctor must be sent for first."
 
 PLOT OF THE BROTHERS COGGLESBY. 4(33 
 
 "Yes, indeed! But it behoves us to previse that the 
 doctor does not kill her before the lawyer comes." 
 
 Caroline looked at Louisa, and said : "Are you ignorant?" 
 
 "No — what?" cried the Countess eagerly. "Evan has 
 written to tell Lady Jocelyn the state of her health, and — " 
 
 "And that naturally has aggravated her malady!" The 
 Countess cramped her long fingers. " The child heard it from 
 him yesterday ! Oh, I could swear at that brother ! " 
 
 She dropped into a chair and sat rigid and square-jawed, a 
 sculpture of unutterable rage. 
 
 In the afternoon Lady Jocelyn arrived. The doctor was 
 there — the lawyer had gone. "Without a word of protest 
 Juliana accompanied her ladyship to Beckley Coui't. Here 
 was a blow ! 
 
 But Andrew was preparing one more mighty still. What 
 if the Cogglesby Brewery proved a basis most unsound ? 
 Where must they fall then ? Alas ! on that point whence 
 they sprang. If not to Perdition — Tailordom ! 
 
 CHAPTER XLL 
 
 REVEALS AN ABOMINABLE PLOT OF THE BROTHERS COGGLESBY. 
 
 A LIVELY April day, with strong gusts from the South-west, 
 and long sweeping clouds, saluted the morning coach from 
 London to Lymport. Thither Tailordom triumphant was 
 bearing its victim at a rattling pace, to settle him, and seal 
 him for ever out of the ranks of gentlemen : Society, mean- 
 time, howling exclusion to him in the background : " Out of 
 our halls, degraded youth : The smiles of turbaned matrons : 
 the sighs of delicate maids ; genial wit, educated talk, refined 
 scandal, vice in harness, dinners sentineled by stately plush : 
 these, the flavour of life, are not for you, though you stole a 
 taste of them, wretched impostor ! Pay for it with years of 
 remorse ! " 
 
 The coach went rushing against the glorious high wind.
 
 464 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 It stirred his blood, freshened his cheeks, gave a bright tone 
 of zest to his eyes, as he cast them on the yonng green 
 country. Not banished from the breath of heaven, or from 
 self-respect, or from the appetite for the rewards that are to 
 follow duties done ! Not banished from the help that is always 
 reached to us when we have fairly taken the right road : 
 and that for him is the road to Lymport. Let the kingdom 
 of Gilt Gingerbread howl as it will! "We are no longer 
 children, but men : men who have bitten hard at experience, 
 and know the value of a tooth : who have had our hearts 
 bruised, and cover them with armour: who live not to feed, 
 but look to food that we may live ! What matters it that 
 yonder high-spiced kingdom should excommunicate such as 
 we are ? We have rubbed oflP the gilt, and have assumed the 
 command of our stomachs. We are men from this day ! 
 
 Now, you would have thought Evan's companions, right 
 and left of him, were the wretches under sentence, to judge 
 from appearances. In contrast with his look of insolent 
 pleasure, Andrew, the moment an ej^e was on him, exhibited 
 the cleverest impersonation of the dumps ever seen : while 
 ■ Mr. John Raikes was from head to foot nothing better than a 
 moan made visible. Nevertheless, they both agreed to rally 
 Evan, and bid him be of good cheer. 
 
 "Don't be down. Van; don't be down, my boy," said 
 Andrew, rubbing his hands gloomily. 
 
 " I ? do I look it? " Evan answered, laughing. 
 
 " Capital acting ! " exclaimed Jack. " Try and keep it up." 
 
 " Well, I hope you're acting too," said Evan. 
 
 Jack let his chest fall like a collapsing bellows. 
 
 At the end of five minutes, he remarked : " I've been 
 sitting on it the whole morning ! There's violent inflamma- 
 tion, I'm persuaded. Another hour, and I jump slap from 
 the summit of the coach ! " 
 
 Evan turned to Andrew. 
 
 " Do you think he'll be let off ? " 
 
 " Mr. Raikes? Can't say. You see. Van, it depends upon 
 how Old Tom has taken his bad luck. Ahem ! Perhaps he'll 
 be all the stricter ; and as a man of honour, Mr. Raikes, you 
 see, can't very weU "
 
 PLOT OF THE BROTHERS COGGLESBY. 4G5 
 
 "By Jove! I wish I wasn't a man of honour!" Jack 
 interposed, heavily. 
 
 "You see, Van, Old Tom's circumstances" — Andrew 
 ducked, to smother a sort of laughter — "are now such that 
 he'd be glad of the money to let him off, no doubt; but Mr. 
 Raikes has spent it, I can't lend it, and you haven't got it, 
 and there we all are. At the end of the year he's free, and 
 he — ha ! ha ! I'm not a bit the merrier for laughing, I can 
 teU you." 
 
 Catching another glimpse of Evan's serious face, Andrew 
 fell into louder laughter ; checking it with doleful solemnity, 
 as Evan said : " You know, Andrew, that if your brother 
 will come to me with you for a time — I am in his debt 
 doubly : I owe him both for the money, and a lesson ; if he 
 doesn't mind coming, I shaU. be very happy to receive him." 
 
 Andrew drew his hand tightly down his cheeks and chin, 
 and nodded, " Thank you, Van, thank you, I'm sure. Never 
 doubted your good heart, my boy. And very kind of you." 
 
 " And you are certain to come ? " 
 
 " 'Hem ! women in the case, you know. Van ! " 
 
 " "Well, if I may work for you and yours, Andrew, I shall 
 thank my destiny, whatever it is." 
 
 Andrew's mouth twitched, and his eyelids began blinking 
 fast. With a desperate effort, he avoided either crying or 
 laughing, but at the expense of Evan's ribs, into which he 
 drove his elbow with a "pooh" and an apology, and then 
 commenced a conversation with the coachman. 
 
 Up hiU and down hill, and past little homesteads shining 
 with yellow crocuses ; across wide brown heaths, whose out- 
 iices laised in Evan's mind the night of his funeral walk, 
 and tossed up old feelings dead as the whirling dust. At last 
 Jack called out : 
 
 " The towers of Fallowfield, — heigho ! " 
 
 And Andrew said : 
 
 "Now then. Van: if old Tom's anywhere, he's here. 
 You get down at the Dragon, and don't you talk to me, but 
 let me go in. It'll be just the hour he dines in the countr3% 
 Isn't it a shame of him to make me face every man of the 
 creditors — eh ? " 
 
 H H
 
 466 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 Evan gave Andrew's hand an affectionate squeeze, at which 
 Andrew had to gulp down something — reciprocal emotion, 
 doubtless. 
 
 "Hark" said Jack, as the horn of the guard was heard. 
 " Once that sound used to set me caracoling before an abject 
 multitude. I did wonders. All London looked on me ! It 
 had more effect on me than champagne. Now I hear it — the 
 whole charm has vanished ! I can't see a single old castle. 
 Would you have thought it possible that a small circular 
 bit of tin on a man's person could produce such changes in 
 him?" 
 
 " You are a donkey to wear it," said Evan. 
 
 *'I pledged my word as a gentleman, and thought it 
 small, for the money ! " said Jack. " This is the first 
 coach I ever travelled on, without making the old whip 
 burst with laughing. I ain't myself. I'm haunted. I'm 
 somebody else." 
 
 The three passengers having descended, a controversy com- 
 menced between Evan and Andrew as to which should pay. 
 Evan had his money out ; Andrew dashed it behind him ; 
 Evan remonstrated. 
 
 " "Well, you mustn't pay for us two, Andrew. I would have 
 let you do it once, but — " 
 
 " Stuff! " cried Andrew. "/ ain't paying — it's the cre- 
 ditors of the estate, my boy ! " 
 
 Evan looked so ingenuously surprised and hurt at his lack 
 of principle, that Andrew chucked a sixpence at a small boy, 
 saying,— 
 
 " If you don't let me have my own way, Van, I'll shy my 
 purse after it. What do you mean, sir, by treating me like 
 a beggar ? " 
 
 " Our friend Harrington canH humour us," quoth Jack. 
 " For myself, I candidly confess I prefer being paid for ; " and 
 he leaned contentedly against one of the posts of the inn till 
 the filthy dispute was arranged to the satisfaction of the 
 ignobler mind. There Andrew left them, and went to Mrs. 
 Sockley, who, recovered from her illness, smiled her usual 
 placid welcome to a guest. 
 
 " You know me, ma'am ? "
 
 PLOT OF THE BROTHERS COGGLESBY. 467 
 
 " Oh, yes ! The London Mr. Cogglesby ! " 
 
 " Now, ma'am, look here. I've come for my brother. 
 Don't be alarmed. No danger as yet. But, mind ! if you 
 attempt to conceal him from his lawful brother, I'll summon 
 here the myrmidons of the law." 
 
 Mrs. Sockley showed a serious face. 
 
 " You know his habits, Mr. Cogglesby ; and one doesn't go 
 against any one of his whimsies, or there's consequences : 
 but the house is open to you, sir. /don't wish to hide him." 
 
 Andrew accepted this intelligent evasion of Tom Cogglesby's 
 orders as sufficient, and immediately proceeded upstairs. A 
 door shut on the first landing. Andrew went to this door 
 and knocked. No answer. He tried to open it, but found 
 that he had been forestalled. After threatening to talk busi- 
 ness through the key-hole, the door was unlocked, and Old 
 Tom appeared. 
 
 "So! now you're dogging me into the country. Be off; 
 make an appointment. Saturday's my holiday. You know 
 that." 
 
 Andrew pushed through the doorway, and, by way of an 
 emphatic reply and a silencing one, delivered a punch slap 
 into Old Tom's belt. 
 
 " Confound you. Nan ! " said Old Tom, grimacing, but 
 friendly, as if his sympathies had been irresistibly assailed. 
 
 "It's done, Tom! I've done it. Won mij bet, now," 
 Andrew exclaimed. " The women — poor creatures ! What 
 a state they're in. I pity 'em." 
 
 Old Tom pursed his lips, and eyed his brother incredulously, 
 but with curious eagerness. 
 
 " Oh, Lord ! what a face I've had to wear ! " Andrew con- 
 tinued, and while he sank into a chair and rubbed his hand- 
 kerchief over his crisp hair, Old Tom let loose a convinced 
 and exulting, " ha ! ha ! " 
 
 " Yes, you may laugh. I've had all the bother," said 
 Andrew. 
 
 " Serve ye right — marrying such cattle," Old Tom snapped 
 at him. 
 
 " They believe we're bankrupt — owe fifty thousand clear, 
 Tom ! " 
 
 HU 2
 
 468 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 "Ha! ha!" 
 
 " Brewery stock and household furniture to be sold by 
 general auction, Friday week." 
 
 "Ha! ha!" 
 
 " Not a place for any of us to poke our heads into. I 
 talked about ' pitiless storms ' to my poor Harry — no shelter 
 to be had unless we go down to Lymport, and stop with 
 their brother in shop ! " 
 
 Old Tom did enjoy this. He took a great gulp of air for a 
 tremendous burst of laughter, and when this was expended 
 and reflection came, his features screwed, as if the acidest of 
 flavours had ravished his palate. 
 
 " Bravo, Nan ! Didn't think you were man enough. Ha 1 
 ha! Nan — I say — eh? how did ye get on behind the cur- 
 tains ? " 
 
 The tale, to guess by Andrew's face, appeared to be too 
 strongly infused with pathos for revelation. 
 
 " Will they go. Nan, eh ? d'ye think they'll go ? " 
 
 " Where else can they go, Tom? They must go there, or 
 on the parish, you know." 
 
 " They'll all troop down to the young tailor — eh ? " 
 
 " They can't sleep in the parks, Tom." 
 
 "No. They can't get into Buckingham Palace, neither — 
 'cept as housemaids. 'Gad, they're howling like cats, I'd 
 swear — nuisance to the neighbourhood — ha ! ha ! " 
 
 Somehow, Old Tom's cruel laughter made Andrew feel for 
 the unhappy ladies. He struck his forehead, and leaned for- 
 ward, saying: "I don't know — 'pen my honour, I don't 
 know — can't think we've quite done right to punish 'em so." 
 
 This acted like cold water on Old Tom's delight. He 
 j)itched it back in the shape of a doubt of what Andrew had 
 told him. Whereupon Andrew defied him to face three 
 miserable women on the verge of hysterics ; and Old Tom, 
 beginning to chuckle again, rejoined that it would bring 
 them to their senses, and emancipate him. 
 
 "You may laugh, Mr. Tom," said Andrew; " but if poor 
 Harry should find me out, deuce a bit more home for me." 
 
 Old Tom looked at him keenly, and rapped the table. 
 " Swear you did it, Nan."
 
 PLOT OF THE BROTHERS COGGLESBY. 469 
 
 " You promise you'll keep the secret," said Andrew. 
 
 " Never make promises." 
 
 " Then there's a pretty life for me ! I did it for that poor 
 dear boy. You were only up to one of your jokes — I see 
 that. Confound you, Old Tom, you've been making a fool of 
 me." 
 
 The flattering charge was not rejected by Old Tom, who 
 now had his brother to laugh at as well. Andrew affected to 
 be indignant and desperate. 
 
 " If you'd had a heart, Tom, you'd have saved the poor 
 fellow without any bother at all. "What do you think ? 
 When I told him of our smash — ha ! ha ! it isn't such a bad 
 joke — well, I went to him, hanging my head, and he offered 
 to arrange our affairs — that is — " 
 
 " Damned meddlesome young dog ! " cried Old Tom, quite 
 in a rage. 
 
 "There — you're up in a twinkling," said Andrew. 
 " Don't you see he believed it, you stupid Old Tom ? Lord ! 
 to hear him say how sorry he was, and to see how glad he 
 looked at the chance of serving us ! " 
 
 " Serving us ! " Tom sneered. 
 
 " Ha ! " went Andrew. "Yes. There. You're a deuced 
 deal prouder than fifty peers. You're an upside-down old 
 despot ! " 
 
 No sharper retort rising to Old Tom's lips, he permitted his 
 brother's abuse of him to pass, declaring that bandying words 
 was not his business, he not being a Parliament man. 
 
 " How about the Major, Nan ? He coming down, too ? " 
 
 "Major!" cried Andrew. "Lucky if he keeps his com- 
 mission. Coming down ? No. He's off to the Continent." 
 
 "Find plenty of scamps there to keep him company," 
 added Tom. " So he's broke— eh ? ha ! ha ! " 
 
 " Tom," said Andrew, seriously, " I'll tell you all about it, 
 if you'll swear not to split on me, because it would really 
 upset poor Harry so. She'd think me such a beastly hypo- 
 crite, I couldn't face her afterwards." 
 
 "Lose what pluck you have — eh? " Tom jerked out his 
 hand, and bade his brother continue. 
 
 Compelled to trust in him without a promise, Andrew
 
 470 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 said : " "Well, then, after we'd arranged it, I went back to 
 Harry, and begged her to have poor Yan at the house : told 
 her what I hoped you'd do for him about getting him into 
 the Brewery. She's very kind, Tom, 'pon my honour she is. 
 She was willing, only — " 
 
 '< Only— eh?" 
 
 "Well, she was so afraid it'd hurt her sisters to see him 
 there." 
 
 Old Tom saw he was in for excellent fun, and wouldn't 
 spoil it for the world. 
 
 "Yes, Nan?" 
 
 " So I went to Caroline. She was easy enough; and she 
 went to the Countess." 
 
 "Well, and she— ?" 
 
 " She was willing, too, tUl Lady Jocelyn came and took 
 Miss Bonner home to Beckley, and because Evan had written 
 to my lady to fetch her, the Countess — she was angry. That 
 was all. Because of that, you know. But yet she agreed. 
 But when Miss Bonner had gone, it turned out that the 
 Major was the obstacle. They were all willing enough to 
 have Evan there, but the Major refused. I didn't hear liim. 
 I wasn't going to ask him. I mayn't be a match for three 
 women, but man to man, eh, Tom ? You'd back me there ? 
 So Harry said the Major'd make Caroline miserable, if his 
 wishes were disrespected. ByGeorge, I wish I'd known, then. 
 Don't you think it odd, Tom, now ? There's a Duke of 
 Belfield the fellow had hooked into his Company; and — 
 through Evan I heard — the Duke had his name struck off. 
 After that, the Major swore at the Duke once or twice, and 
 said Caroline wasn't to go out with him. Suddenly, he 
 insists that she shall go. Days the poor thing kept crying ! 
 One day, he makes her go. She hasn't the spirit of my Harry, 
 or the Countess. By good luck, Yan, who was hunting ferns 
 for some friends of his, met them on Sunday in Eichmond 
 Park, and Yan took her away from the Duke. But, Tom, 
 think of Yan seeing a fellow watching her wherever she went, 
 and hearing the Duke's coachman tell that fellow he had 
 orders to drive his master and a lady hard on to the sea that 
 night. I don't believe it — it wasn't Caroline ! But what do
 
 PLOT OF THE BROTHERS COGGLESBY. 471 
 
 you think of our finding out that beast of a spy to be in the 
 Major's pay? We did. Van put a constable on his track; 
 we found him out, and he confessed it. A fact, Tom ! That 
 decided me. If it was only to get rid of a brute, I deter- 
 mined I'd do it, and I did. Strike came to me to get my 
 name for a bill that night. 'Gad, he looked blanker than his 
 bill when he heard of us two banki'upt. I showed him one 
 or two documents I'd got ready. Says he : ' I^ever mind ; 
 it'll only be a couple of hundred more in the schedule.' Stop, 
 Tom! he's got some of our blood. I don't think he meant 
 it. He is hard pushed. Well, I gave him a twentier, and 
 he was off the next night. You'll soon see all about the 
 Company in the papers." 
 
 At the conclusion of Andrew's recital, Old Tom thrummed 
 and looked on the floor under a heavy frown. His mouth 
 worked dubiously, and, from moment to moment, he plucked 
 at his waistcoat and pulled it down, throwing back his head 
 and glaring. 
 
 " I've knocked that fellow over once," he said. " Wish he 
 hadn't got up again." 
 
 Andrew nodded. 
 
 " One good thing, Nan. He never boasted of our connec- 
 tion. Much obliged to him." 
 
 " Yes," said Andrew, who was gladly watching Old Tom's 
 change of mood with a quiescent aspect. 
 
 " TJm ! — must keep it quiet from his poor old mother." 
 
 Andrew again affirmatived his senior's remarks. That his 
 treatment of Old Tom was sound, he presently had proof of. 
 The latter stood up, and after sniffing in an injured way for 
 about a minute, launched out his right leg, and vociferated 
 that he would like to have it in his power to kick all the 
 villains out of the world : a modest demand Andi'ew at once 
 chimed in with ; adding that, were such a faculty extended to 
 him, he would not object to lose the leg that could benefit man- 
 kind so infinitely, and consented to its following them. Then, 
 Old Tom, who was of a practical turn, meditated, swung his 
 foot, and gave one grim kick at the imaginary bundle of villains, 
 discharged them headlong straight into space. Andrew, 
 naturally imitative, and seeing that he had now to kick them
 
 472 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 flying, attempted to excel Old Tom in the vigour of his 
 delivery. No wonder that the efforts of both were heating : 
 they were engaged in the task of ridding the globe of the 
 larger half of its inhabitants. Tom perceived Andrew's use- 
 less emulation, and with a sound translated by "yack," sent 
 his leg out a long way. Not to be outdone, Andrew imme- 
 diately, with a still louder " yack," committed himself to an 
 effort so violent that the alternative between his leg coming 
 off, or his being taken off his leg, was propounded by nature, 
 and decided by the laws of gravity in a trice. Joyful grunts 
 were emitted by Old Tom at the sight of Andrew prostrate, 
 rubbing his pate. But Mrs. Sockley, to whom the noise of 
 Andrew's fall had suggested awful fears of a fratricidal con- 
 flict upstairs, hurried forthwith to announce to them that 
 the sovereign remedy for human ills, the promoter of concord, 
 the healer offends, the central point of man's destiny in the 
 flesh — Dinner, was awaiting them. 
 
 To the dinner they marched. 
 
 Of this great festival be it simply told that the supply was 
 copious and of good quality — much too good and copious for 
 a bankrupt host : that Evan and Mr. John Raikes were 
 formally introduced to Old Tom before the repast commenced, 
 and welcomed some three minutes after he had decided the 
 flavour of his first glass ; that Mr. Eaikes in due time pre- 
 ferred his petition for release from a dreadful engagement, 
 and furnished vast amusement to the company under Old 
 Tom's hand, until, by chance, he quoted a scrap of Latin, 
 at which the brothers Cogglesby, who would have faced 
 peers and princes without being disconcerted or performing 
 mental genuflexions, shut their mouths and looked injured, 
 unhappy, and in the presence of a superior: Mr. Eaikes not 
 being the man to spare them. Moreover, a surprise was 
 afforded to Evan. Andrew stated to Old Tom that the hospi- 
 tality of Main Street, Ljinport, was open to him. Strange to 
 say. Old Tom accepted it on the spot, observing, " You're 
 master of the house — can do what you like, if you're man 
 enough," and adding that he thanked him, and would come 
 in a day or two. The case of Mr. Eaikes was still left uncer- 
 tain, for as the bottle circulated, he exhibited such a faculty for 
 
 i
 
 JULIANA. 473 
 
 apt, but to tlie brothers totally incomprebensible quot^ion, 
 that they fled from him without leaving him time to remember 
 what special calamity was on his mind, or whether this earth 
 was other than an abode conceived in great jollity for his life- 
 lonar entertainment. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 The sick night-light burned steadily in Juliana's chamber. 
 On a couch, beside her bed, Caroline lay sleeping, tired with 
 a long watch. Two sentences had been passed on Juliana : 
 one on her heart : one on her body : " Thou art not loved " ; 
 and, "Thou must die." The frail passion of her struggle 
 against her destiny was over with her. Quiet as that quiet 
 which. Nature was taking her to, her body reposed. Calm 
 as the solitary night-light before her open eyes, her spirit 
 was wasting away. " If I am not loved, then let me die ! " 
 In such a sense she bowed to her fate. 
 
 At an hour like this, watching the round of light on the 
 ceiling, with its narrowing inner rings, a sufferer from whom 
 pain has fled, looks back to the shores she is leaving, and 
 would be well with them who walk there. It is false to 
 imagine that schemers and workers in the dark are destitute 
 of the saving gift of conscience. They have it, and it is 
 perhaps made livelier in them than with easy people ; and 
 therefore, they are imperatively spurred to hoodwink it. 
 Hence, their self-delusion is deep and endures. They march 
 to their object, and gaining or losing it, the voice that calls 
 to them is the voice of a blind creature, whom any answer, 
 provided that the answer is ready, will silence. And at an 
 hour like this, when finally they snatch their minute of sight 
 on the threshold of black night, their souls may compare 
 with yonder shining circle on the ceiling, which, as the light 
 below gasps for air, contracts, and extends but to mingle
 
 474 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 wit^^jhe darkness. They would be nobler, better, boundlessly 
 good to all; — to those who have injured them; — to those 
 whom they have injured. Alas ! for any definite deed the 
 limit of their circle is immoveable, and they must act within 
 it. The trick they have played themselves imprisons them. 
 Beyond it, they cease to be. 
 
 Lying in this utter stillness, Juliana thought of Kose ; of 
 her beloved by Evan. The fever that had left her blood, had 
 left it sttignant, and her thoughts were quite emotionless. 
 She looked faintly on a far picture. She saw Rose blooming 
 with pleasui'es in Elburne House, sliding as a boat borne by 
 the river's tide to sea, away from her living joy. The breast 
 of Rose was lucid to her, and in that hour of insight she had 
 clear knowledge ol her cousin's heart; how it scoffed at its 
 base love, and unwittingly betrayed the power on her still, 
 by clinging to the world and what it would give her to fill 
 the void ; how externally the lake was untroubled, and a 
 mirror to the passing day ; and how within there pressed a 
 flood against an iron dam. Evan, too, she saw. The Countess 
 was right in her judgement of Juliana's love. Juliana looked 
 very little to his qualities. She loved him when she thought 
 him guilty, which made her conceive that her love was of a 
 diviner cast than Rose was capable of. Guilt did not spoil 
 his beauty to her ; his gentleness and glowing manhood were 
 unchanged ; and when she knew him as he was, the revela- 
 tion of his high nature simply confirmed her impression of 
 his physical perfections. She had done him a wrong ; at her 
 death news would come to him, and it might be that he 
 would bless her name. Because she sighed no longer for 
 those dear lips and strong arms to close about her tremulous 
 frame, it seemed to her that she had quite surrendered him. 
 Generous to Evan, she would be just to Rose. Beneath her 
 pillow she found pencil and paper, and with difficulty, scarce 
 seeing her letters in the brown light, she began to trace lines 
 of farewell to Rose. Her conscience dictated to her thus, 
 " Tell Rose that she was too ready to accept his guilt ; and 
 that in this as in all things, she acted with the precipitation 
 of her character. Tell her that you always trusted, and that 
 now you know him innocent. Give her the proofs you have.
 
 JULIANA. 475 
 
 Show that he did it to shield his intriguing sister. Tell lior 
 that you write this only to make her just to him. End with 
 a prayer that Rose may be happy." 
 
 Ere Juliana had finished one sentence, she resigned the 
 pencil. Was it not much, even at the gates of death, to be 
 the instrument to send Eose into his arms? The picture 
 swayed before her, helping her weakness. She found her- 
 self dreaming that he had kissed her once. Dorothy, she 
 remembered, had danced up to her one day, to relate what 
 the maids of the house said of the gentlemen — (at whom, il 
 is known, they look with the licence of cats toward kings) ; 
 and Dorothy's fresh careless mouth had told how one obser- 
 vant maid, amorously minded, proclaimed of Evan, to a com- 
 panion of her sex, that, ' ' he was the only gentleman who gave 
 you an idea of how he would look when he was kissing you." 
 Juliana cherished that vision likewise. Young ladies are not 
 supposed to do so, if menial maids are; but Juliana did 
 cherish it, and it possessed her fancy. Bear in your recollec- 
 tion that she was not a healthy person. Diseased little 
 heroines may be made attractive, and are now popular ; but 
 strip off the cleverly woven robe which is fashioned to cover 
 them, and you will find them in certain matters bearing a 
 resemblance to menial maids. 
 
 "While the thoughts of his kiss lasted, she could do no- 
 thing ; but lay with her two hands out on the bed, and her 
 eyelids closed. Then waking, she took the pencil again. It 
 would not move : her bloodless fingers fell from it. 
 
 " If they do not meet, and he never marries, I may claim 
 him in the next world," she mused. 
 
 But conscience continued uneasy. She turned her wrist 
 and trailed a letter from beneath the pillow. It was from 
 Mrs. Shome. Juliana knew the contents. She raised it un- 
 opened as high as her faltering hands permitted, and read 
 like one whose shut eyes read syllables of fire on the 
 darkness. 
 
 " Rose has at last definitively engaged herself to Ferdinand, 
 you will be glad to hear, and we may now treat her as a 
 woman." 
 
 Having absorbed these words, Juliana's hand found strength
 
 476 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 to write, with little difficulty, what she had to say to Rose. 
 She conceived it to be neither sublime nor generous : not even 
 good; merely her peculiar duty. "When it was done, she 
 gave a long, low sigh of relief. 
 
 Caroline whispered, "Dearest child, are you awake ? " 
 
 " Yes," she answered. 
 
 " Sorrowful, dear ? " 
 
 "Very quiet." 
 
 Caroline reached her hand over to her, and felt the paper. 
 
 " "What is this ? " 
 
 " My good-by to Eose. I want it folded now." 
 
 Caroline slipped from the couch to fulfil her wish. She 
 enclosed the pencilled scrap of j)aper, sealed it, and asked, 
 " Is that right ? " 
 
 "Now unlock my desk," Juliana uttered, feebly. " Put it 
 beside a letter addressed to a law-gentleraan. Post both the 
 morning I am gone." 
 
 Caroline promised to obey, and coming to Juliana to mark 
 her looks, observed a faint pleased smile dying away, and had 
 her hand gently squeezed. Juliana's conscience had preceded 
 her contentedly to its last sleep ; and she, beneath that round 
 of light on the ceiling, drew on her counted breaths in peace 
 till dawn. 
 
 CHAPTER XLTIL 
 
 KOSE. 
 
 Have you seen a young audacious spirit smitten to the 
 earth? It is a singular studj- ; and, in the case of young 
 women, a trap for inexperienced men. Puose, who had com- 
 manded and managed every one surrounding her since 
 infancy, how humble had she now become ! — how much more 
 womanly in appearance, and more child-like at heart ! She 
 was as wax in Lady Elburne's hands. A hint of that veiled 
 episode, the Beckley campaign, made Rose pliant, as if she
 
 ROSE. 477 
 
 had woven for herself a rod of scorpions. The high ground 
 she had taken ; the perfect trust in one ; the scorn of any 
 judgement, save her own ; these had vanished from her. 
 Eose, the tameless heroine who had once put her mother' 3 
 philosophy in action, was the easiest filly that turbaned ma- 
 tron ever yet di-ove into the straight road of the world. It 
 even surprised Lady Jocelyn to see how wonderfully she had 
 been broken in by her grandmother. Her ladyship wrote to 
 Drummond to tell him of it, and Drummond congratulated 
 her, saying, however : — " Changes of this sort don't come of 
 conviction. Wait tiU you see her at home. I think they 
 have been sticking pins into the sore part." 
 
 Drummond knew Rose well. In reality there was no 
 change in her. She was only a suppliant to be spared from 
 ridicule : spared from the application of the scourge she had 
 woven for herself. 
 
 And, ah! to one who deigned to think warmly stiU of 
 such a disgraced silly creature, with what gratitude she 
 turned ! He might well suppose love alone could pour that 
 profusion of jewels at his feet. 
 
 Ferdinand, now Lord Laxley, understood the merits of his 
 finger-nails better than the nature of young women ; but he 
 is not to be blamed for presuming that Rose had learnt to 
 adore him. Else why did she like his company so much? 
 He was not mistaken in thinking she looked up to him. She 
 seemed to beg to be taken into his noble serenity. In truth 
 she sighed to feel as he did, above everybody ! — she that 
 had fallen so low ! Above everybody ! — born above them, 
 and therefore superior by grace divine ! To this Rose 
 Jocelyn had come — she envied the mind of Ferdinand. 
 
 He, you may be sm'e, was quite prepared to accept her 
 homage. Rose he had always known to be just the girl for 
 him ; spirited, fresh, and with fine teeth ; and once tied to 
 you safe to be staunch. They walked together, rode together, 
 danced together. Her soft humility touched him to elo- 
 quence. Say she was a little hypocrite, if you like, when the 
 blood came to her cheeks under his eyes. Say she was a 
 heartless minx for allowing it to be bruited that she and Fer- 
 dinand were betrothed. I can but tell you that her blushes
 
 478 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 were blushes of gratitude to one who could devote his time to 
 such a disgraced silly creature, and that she, in her abject 
 state, felt a secret pleasure in the protection Ferdinand's 
 name appeared to extend over her, and was hardly willing to 
 lose it. 
 
 So far Lady Elburne's tact and discipline had been highly 
 successful. One morning, in May, Ferdinand, strolling with 
 Rose down the garden made a positive appeal to her common 
 sense and friendly feeling ; by which she understood that he 
 wanted her consent to his marriage with her. 
 
 Rose answered : 
 
 " "Who would have me ? " 
 
 Ferdinand spoke pretty well, and ultimately got possession 
 of her hand. She let him keep it, thinking him noble for 
 forgetting that another had pressed it before him. 
 
 Some minutes later the letters were delivered. One of 
 them contained Juliana's dark- winged missive. 
 
 " Poor, poor Juley ! " said Eose, dropping her head, after 
 reading all that was on the crumpled leaf with an inflexible 
 face. And then, talking on, long low sighs lifted her bosom 
 at intervals. She gazed from time to time with a wistful 
 conciliatory air on Ferdinand. Rushing to her chamber, the 
 first cry her soul framed was : " He did not kiss me ! " 
 
 The young have a superstitious sense of something incon- 
 testably true in the final protestations of the dead. Evan 
 guiltless ! she could not quite take the meaning this revelation 
 involved. That which had been dead was beginning to move 
 within her; but blindly: and now it stirred and troubled; 
 now sank. Guiltless ? — all she had thought him ! Oh ! she 
 knew she could not have been deceived. But why, why had 
 he hidden his sacrifice from her ? 
 
 "It is better for us both, of course," said Rose, speaking 
 the world's wisdom, parrot-like, and bursting into tears the 
 next minute. Guiltless, and gloriously guiltless ! but nothing 
 — nothing to her ! 
 
 She tried to blame him. It would not do. She tried 
 to think of that grovelling loathsome position painted 
 to her by Lady Elburne's graphic hand. Evan dis- 
 persed the gloomy shades like sunshine. Then in a sort
 
 ROSE. 479 
 
 of terror she rejoiced to think she was partially engaged to 
 Ferdinand, and found herself crying again with exultation, 
 that he had not kissed her : for a kiss on her mouth was to 
 Hose a pledge and a bond. 
 
 The struggle searched her through : bared her weakness, 
 probed her strength ; and she, seeing herself, suffered 
 grievously in her self-love. Am I such a coward, inconstant, 
 cold? she asked. Contirmatory answers coming, flung her 
 back under the shield of Ferdinand : if for a moment her 
 soul stood -up armed and defiant, it was Evan's hand she 
 took. 
 
 To whom do I belong ? was another terrible question. In 
 her ideas, if Evan was not chargeable with that baseness 
 which had sundered them he might claim her yet, if he 
 would. If he did, what then ? Must she go to him ? 
 
 Impossible : she was in chains. Besides, what a din of 
 laughter there would be to see her led away by him. Twist- 
 ing her joined hands : weeping for her cousin, as she thought, 
 Rose passed hours of torment over Juliana's legacy to her. 
 
 " Why did I doubt him ? " she cried, jealous that any 
 soul should have known and trusted him better. Jealous : 
 and I am afraid that the kindling of that one feature of love 
 relighted the fire of her passion thus fervidly. To be out- 
 stripped in generosity was hateful to her. Rose, naturally, 
 could not reflect that a young creature like herself, flghting 
 against the world, as we call it, has all her faculties at the 
 utmost stretch, and is often betrayed by failing nature when 
 the will is still valiant. 
 
 And here she sat — in chains ! " Yes ! I am fit only to 
 be the wife of an idle brainless man, with money and a title," 
 she said, in extreme self-contempt. She caught a glimpse of 
 her whole life in the horrid tomb of his embrace, and ques- 
 tions whether she could yield her hand to him — whether it 
 was right in the eyes of heaven, rushed impetuously to con- 
 sole her, and defied anything in the shape of satisfactory 
 affirmations. Nevertheless, the end of the struggle was, that 
 she felt that she was bound to Ferdinand. 
 
 "But this I will do," said Rose, standing with heat-bright 
 eyes and deep-coloured cheeks before the glass. " I will
 
 480 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 clear his character at Beckley. I will help him. I will be 
 his friend. I will wipe out the injustice I did him." And 
 this bride-elect of a lord absolutely added that — she was 
 unworthy to be the wife of a tailor ! 
 
 " He ! how unequalled he is ! There is nothing he fears 
 except shame. Oh ! how sad it will be for him to find 
 no woman in his class to understand him and be his help- 
 mate ! " 
 
 Over this sad subject, of which we must presume her to be 
 accurately cognizant, Rose brooded heavily. By mid-day 
 she gave her Grandmother notice that she was going home to 
 Juliana's funeral. 
 
 "Well, Rose, if you think it necessary to join the cere- 
 mony," said Lady Elburne. " Beckley is bad quarters for 
 you, as you have learnt. There was never much love between 
 you cousins." 
 
 "No, and I don't pretend to it," Rose answered. "I am 
 sorry poor Juley's gone." 
 
 " She's better gone for many reasons — she appears to have 
 been a little venomous toad," said Lady Elburne; and Rose, 
 thinking of a snakelike death-bite working through her blood, 
 rejoined: "Yes, she isn't to be pitied : she's better off than 
 most people." 
 
 So it was arranged that Rose should go. Ferdinand and 
 her aunt, Mrs. Shorne, accompanied her. Mrs. Shorne gave 
 them their opportunities, albeit they were all stowed together 
 in a carriage, and Ferdinand seemed willing to profit by 
 them ; but Rose's hand was dead, and she sat by her future 
 lord forming the vow on her lips that they should never 
 be touched by him. 
 
 Arrived at Beckley, she, to her great delight, found Caro- 
 line there, waiting for the funeral. In a few minutes she got 
 her alone, and after kisses, looked penetratingly into her 
 lovely eyes, shook her head, and said: "Why were you 
 false to me ? " 
 
 " False ? " echoed Caroline. 
 
 " You knew him. You knew why he did that. Why did 
 you not save me ? 
 
 Caroline fell upon her neck, asking pardon. She spared
 
 ROSE. 481 
 
 her the recital of facts further than the broad avowal. Evan's 
 present condition she plainly stated : and Rose, when the 
 bitter pangs had ceased, made oath to her soul she -would 
 rescue him from it. 
 
 In addition to the task of clearing Evan's character, and 
 rescuing him, Rose now conceived that her engagement to 
 Ferdinand must stand ice-bound till Evan had given her back 
 her troth. How could she obtain it from him ? How could 
 she take anything from one so noble and so poor ! Happily 
 there was no hurry; though before any bond was ratified, she 
 decided conscientiously that it must be done. 
 
 You see -that like a lithe snake she turns on herself, and 
 must be tracked in and out. Not being a girl to solve the 
 problem with tears, or outright perfidy, she had to ease her 
 heart to the great shock little by little : sincere as far as she 
 knew : as far as one who loves may be. 
 
 The day of the funeral came and went. The Jocelyns were 
 of their mother's opinion : that for many reasons Juliana was 
 better out of the way. Mrs. Bonner's bequest had been a 
 severe blow to Sir Franks. However, all was now well. 
 The estate naturally lapsed to Lady Jocelyn. No one in the 
 house dreamed of a will, signed with Juliana's name, attested, 
 under due legal forms, being in existence. None of the 
 members of the family imagined that at Beckley Court they 
 were then residing on somebody's else's ground. 
 
 Want of hospitable sentiments was not the cause that led 
 to an intimation from Sir Franks to his wife, that Mrs, Strike 
 must not be pressed to remain, and that Rose must not be 
 permitted to have her own way in this. Knowing very well 
 that Mrs. Shorne spoke through her husband's mouth. Lady 
 Jocelyn still acquiesced, and Rose, who had pressed Caroline 
 publicly to stay, had to be silent when the latter renewed 
 her faint objections ; so Caroline said she would leave on 
 the morrow morning. 
 
 Juliana, with her fretfulness, her hand bounties, her petty 
 egoisms, and sudden far-leaping generosities, and all the cou' 
 tradictory impulses of her malad}^, had now departed utterly. 
 The joys of a landed proprietor mounted into the head of 
 Sir Franks. He was up early the next morning, and lie and 
 
 1 1
 
 i82 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 Harry walked over a good bit of tlie ground before breakfast. 
 Sir Franks meditated making it entail, and favoured Harry 
 with a lecture on the duty of his shaping the course of his 
 conduct at once after the model of the landed gentry 
 generally. 
 
 " And you may think yourself lucky to come into that 
 catalogue — the son of a younger son ! " said Sir Franks, 
 tapping Mr. Harry's shoulder. Harry also began to enjoy 
 the look and smell of land. At the breakfast, which, though 
 early, was well attended, Harry spoke of the adviseability 
 of felling timber here, planting there, and so forth, after the 
 model his father held up. Sir Franks nodded approval of his 
 interest in the estate, but reserved his opinion on matters of 
 detail. 
 
 " All I beg of you is," said Lady Jocelyn, "" that you 
 won't sow turnips within the circuit of a mile; " which was 
 obligingly promised. 
 
 The morning letters were delivered and opened with the 
 customary calmness. 
 
 " Letter from old George," Harry sings out, and buzzes 
 over a few lines. " Halloa ! — Hum ! " He was going to make 
 a communication, but catching sight of Caroline, tossed the 
 letter over to Ferdinand, who read it and tossed it back with 
 the comment of a careless face. 
 
 " Eead it, Rosey ?" says Harry, smiling bluntly. 
 
 Rather to his surprise, Rose took the letter. Study her 
 eyes if you wish to gauge the potency of one strong dose of 
 ridictde on an ingenuous young heart. She read that Mr. 
 George TJploft had met " our friend Mr. Snip " riding, by 
 moonlight, on the road to Beckley. That great orbed night 
 of their deep tender love flashed luminously through her 
 frame, storming at the base epithet by which her lover was 
 mentioned, flooding grandly over the ignominies cast on him 
 by the world. She met the world, as it were, in a death- 
 grapple ; she matched the living heroic youth she felt him to 
 be, with that dead wooden image of him which it thrust 
 before her. Her heart stood up singing like a craven who 
 sees the tide of victory setting toward him. But this passed 
 beneath her eyelids. When her eyes were lifted, Ferdinand
 
 ROSE. 483 
 
 eould have discovered nothing in them to complain of, had his 
 suspicions been light to raise : nor cold Mrs. Shorne perceive 
 that there was the opening for a shrewd bodkin-thrust. Rose 
 had got a mask at last : her colour, voice, expression, were 
 perfectly at command. She knew it to be a cowardice to 
 Avear any mask: but she had been burnt, horribly burnt: 
 how much so you may guess from the supple dissimulation of 
 such a bold clear-visaged girl. She conquered the sneers of 
 Ihe world in her soul : but her sensitive skin was yet alive to 
 the pangs of the scorching it had been subjected to when 
 weak, helpless, and betrayed by Evan, she stood with no 
 philosophic parent to cry fair play for her, among the skilful 
 torturers of Elburne House. 
 
 Sir Franks had risen and walked to the window. 
 
 "News?" said Lady Jocelyn, wheeling round in her chair. 
 
 The one eyebrow up of the easy-going baronet signified 
 trouble of mind. He finished his third perusal of a letter 
 that appeared to be written in a remarkably plain legal hand, 
 and looking as men do when their intelligences are just equal 
 to the comprehension or expression of an oath, handed the 
 letter to his wife, and observed that he should be found in 
 the library. Nevertheless he waited first to mark its efi'ect 
 on Lady Jocelyn. At one part of the document her forehead 
 wrinkled slightly. 
 
 " Doesn't sound like a joke ! " he said. 
 
 She answered : 
 
 "No." 
 
 Sir Franks, apparently quite satisfied by her ready response, 
 turned on his heel and left the room quickly. 
 
 An hour afterward it was rumoured and confirmed that 
 Juliana Bonner had willed all the worldly property she held 
 in her own right, comprising Beckley Court, to Mr. Evan . 
 Harrington, of Lymport, tailor. An abstract of the will was 
 forwarded. The lawyer went on to say, that he had con- 
 formed to the desire of the testatrix in communicating the 
 existence of the aforesaid will six days subsequent to her 
 death, being the day after her funeral. 
 
 There had been railing and jeering at the Countess de 
 Saldar, the clever outwitted exposed adventui'ess, at Elburne 
 
 II 2
 
 484 EVAE" HARRINGTON, 
 
 House and Beckley Court. What did the crowing cleverer 
 aristocrats think of her now ? 
 
 On Eose the blow fell bitterly. Was Evan also a foul 
 schemer ? "Was he of a piece with his intriguing sister ? His 
 close kinship with the Countess had led her to think baseness 
 possible to him when it was confessed by his own mouth 
 once. She heard black names cast at him and the whole of 
 the great Mel's brood, and incapable of quite disbelieving 
 them merited, unable to challenge and rebut them, she 
 dropped into her recent state of self- contempt: into her lately- 
 instiUed doubt whether it really was in Nature's power, 
 unaided by family-portraits, coats-of-arms, ball-room practice, 
 and at least one small phial of Essence of Society, to make a 
 Gentleman. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIEATOKS. 
 
 This, if jou have done me the favoiu' to read it aright, has 
 been a chronicle of desperate heroism on the part of almost 
 all the principal personages represented. But not the Coun- 
 tess de Saldar, scaling the embattled fortress of Society ; or 
 Rose, tossing its keys to her lover from the shining turret- 
 tops ; or Evan, keeping bright the lamp of self-respect in his 
 bosom against South wind and East ; none excel friend 
 Andrew Cogglesby, who, having fallen into Old Tom's plot 
 to humiliate his wife and her sisters, simply for Evan's 
 sake, and without any distinct notion of the terror, confu- 
 sion, and universal upset he was bringing on his home, 
 could yet, after a seared contemplation of the scene when 
 he returned from his expedition to Fallowfield, continue to 
 wear his rueful mask ; and persevere in treacherously out- 
 raging his lofty wife. 
 
 He did it to vindicate the ties of blood against accidents of 
 position. "Was he justified ? I am sufficiently wise to ask 
 my own sex alone. 
 
 1
 
 CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIRATORS. 485 
 
 On the other side, he it said (since in our modern days 
 eveiy hero must have his weak heel), that now he had gone 
 this distance it was difficult to recede. It would be no laugh- 
 ing matter to teU his solemn Harriet that he had been playing 
 her a little practical joke. His temptations to give it up 
 were incessant and most agitating ; but if to advance seemed 
 terrific, there was, in stopping short, an awfulness so over- 
 whelming that Andrew abandoned himself to the current, his 
 real dismay adding to his acting powers. 
 
 The worst was, that the joke was no longer his : it was 
 Old Tom's. He discovered that he was in Old Tom's hands 
 completely. Andrew had thought that he would just frighten 
 the women a bit, get them down to Lymport for a week or 
 so, and then announce that matters were not so bad with 
 the Brewery as he had feared ; concluding the farce with a 
 few domestic fireworks. Conceive his dismay when he en- 
 tered the house, to find there a man in possession. 
 
 Andrew flew into such a rage that he committed an assauK 
 on the man. So ungovernable was his passion, that for some 
 minutes Harriet's measured voice summoned him from over 
 the banisters above, quite in vain. The miserable English- 
 man refused to be taught that his house had ceased to be hi^ 
 castle. It was something beyond a joke, this ! The intruder, 
 perfectly docile, seeing that by accurate calculation every 
 shake he got involved a bottle of wine for him, and ultimate 
 compensation probably to the amount of a couple of sovereigns, 
 allowed himself to be lugged up stairs, in default of sum- 
 mary ejection on the point of Andrew's toe into the street. 
 There he was faced to the lady of the house, who apologized 
 to him, and requested her husband to state what had made 
 him guilty of this indecent behaviour. The man showed 
 his papers. They were quite in order. "At the suit of 
 Messrs. Grist." 
 
 " My own lawyers ! " ci'ied Andrew, smacking his fore- 
 head ; and Old Tom's devilry flashed on him at once. He 
 sank into a chair. 
 
 " Why did you bring this person up here ? " said Harriet, 
 like a speaking statue. 
 
 "My dear! " Andrew answered, and spread out his hand.
 
 486 EVAN HARRINGTOK 
 
 and waggled his head ; " My — please ! — I — I don't know. 
 We all want exercise." 
 
 The man laughed, which was kindly of him, hut offensive 
 to Mrs. Cogglesby, who gave Andrew a glance which was 
 full payment for his imbecile pleasantry, and promised more. 
 
 "With a hospitable inquiry as to the condition of his appetite, 
 and a request that he would be pleased to satisfy it to the full, 
 the man was dismissed : whereat, as one delivered of noxious 
 presences, the Countess rustled into sight. Not noticing 
 Andrew, she lisped to Harriet : "Misfortunes are sometimes 
 no curses ! I bless the catarrh that has confined Silva to his 
 chamber, and saved him from a bestial exhibition." 
 
 The two ladies then swept from the room, and left An- 
 drew to perspire at leisure. 
 
 Fresh tribulations awaited him when he sat down to 
 dinner. Andrew liked his dinner to be comfortable, good, 
 and in plenty. This may not seem strange. The fact is 
 stated that I may win for him the warm sympathies of the 
 body of his countrymen. He was greeted by a piece of cold 
 boiled neck of mutton and a solitary dish of steaming pota- 
 toes. The blank expanse of table-cloth returned his desolate 
 stare. 
 
 " Why, what's the meaning of this ? " Andrew brutally ex- 
 claimed, as he thumped the table. 
 
 The Countess gave a start, and rolled a look as of piteous 
 supplication to spare a lady's nerves, addressed to a ferocious 
 brigand. Harriet answered: " It means that I will bave no 
 butcher's bills." 
 
 "Butcher's bills! butcher's bills!" echoed Andrew; 
 " why, you must have butcher's bills ; why, confound ! 
 why, you'll have a bill for this, won't you, Harry ? eh ? of 
 course ! " 
 
 " There will be no more bills dating from yesterday,'' 
 said his wife. 
 
 " What ! this is paid for, then ? " 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Cogglesby; and so will all household expenses 
 be, while my pocket-money lasts." 
 
 Resting his eyes full on Harriet a minute, Andrew dropped 
 them on the savourless white-rimmed chop, which looked aa
 
 CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIRATORS. 487 
 
 lonely in his plate as its parent dish on the table. The poor 
 dear creature's pocket-money had paid for it! The thouglit, 
 mingling with a rush of emotion, made his ideas spin. His 
 imagination surged deliriously. He fancied himself at the 
 Zoological Gardens, exchanging pathetic glances with a me- 
 lancholy marmoset. Wonderfully like one the chop looked ! 
 There was no use in his trying to eat it. He seemed to be 
 fixing his teeth in solid tears. He choked. Twice he took 
 up knife and fork, put them down again, and plucking forth 
 his handkerchief, blew a tremendous trumpet, that sent the 
 Countess's eyes rolling to the ceiling, as if heaven were her 
 sole refuge from such vulgarity. 
 
 "Damn that Old Tom!" he shouted at last, and pitched 
 back in his chair. 
 
 " Mr, Cogglesby ! " and "In the presence of ladies ! " were 
 the admonishing interjections of the sisters, at whom the 
 little man frowned in turns. 
 
 "Do j-ou wish us to quit the room, sir?" inquired his 
 wife. 
 
 " God bless your soul, you little darling ! " he apostro- 
 phized that stately person. " Here, come along with me, 
 Harry. A wife's a wife, / say — hang it ! Just outside the 
 room — just a second! or up in a corner will do." 
 
 Mrs, Cogglesby was amazed to see him jump up and run 
 round to her. She was prepared to defend her neck fi-ora 
 his caress, and refused to go: but the words, " Sometliiug 
 particular to tell you," awakened her curiositj'', which urged 
 her to compliance. She rose and went with him to the door. 
 
 "Well, sir; what is it ? " 
 
 No doubt he was acting under a momentary weakness : he 
 was about to betray the plot and take his chance of forgive- 
 ness : but her towering port, her commanding aspect, re- 
 stored his courage. (There may be a contrary view of the 
 case.) He enclosed her briskly in a connubial hug, and re- 
 marked with mad ecstasy : " What a duck you are, Harry ! 
 What a likeness between you and your mother." 
 
 Mrs. Cogglesby disengaged herself imperiously. Had he 
 called her aside for this gratuitous insult ? Contrite, he saw 
 his dreadful error.
 
 488 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 " Harry ! I declare ! " was all he was allowed to say. 
 Mrs. Cogglesby marched back to her chair, and recommenced 
 the repast in majestic silence. 
 
 Andrew sighed ; he attempted to do the same. He stuck 
 his fork in the blanched whiskerage of his marmoset, and 
 exclaimed : "I can't ! " 
 
 He was unnoticed. 
 
 " You do not object to plain diet?" said Harriet to 
 Louisa. 
 
 " Oh, no, in verity ! " murmured the Countess. *' How- 
 ever plain it be! Absence of appetite, dearest. You are 
 aware I partook of luncheon at midday with the Honourable 
 and Reverend Mr. Duffian. You must not look condem- 
 nation at your Louy for that. Luncheon is not conver- 
 sion ! " 
 
 Harriet observed that this might be true ; but still, to her 
 mind, it was a mistake to be too intimate with dangerous 
 people. " And besides," she added, " Mr. Duffian is no 
 longer ' the Eeverend.' "We deprive all renegades of their 
 spiritual titles. His worldly ones let him keep ! " 
 
 Her superb disdain nettled the Countess. 
 
 " Dear Harriet ! " she said, with less languor, " You are 
 utterly and totally and entirely mistaken. I tell you so 
 positively. Eenegade ! The application of such a word to 
 such a man ! Oh ! and it is false, Harriet : quite ! Rene- 
 gade means one who has gone over to the Turks, my dear. 
 I am most certain I saw it in Johnson's Dictionary, or 
 an improvement upon Johnson, by a more learned author. 
 But there is the fact, if Harriet can only bring her — shall I 
 say stiff-necked prejudices to envisage it?" 
 
 Harriet granted her sister permission to apply the phrases 
 she stood in need of, without impeaching her intimacy with 
 the most learned among lexicographers. 
 
 "And is there no such thing as being too severe ? " the 
 Countess resumed. "What our enemies call unchristian ! " 
 
 "Mr. Duffian has no cause to complain of us," said Har- 
 riet. 
 
 "Nor does he do so, dearest. Calumny may assail himj 
 you may utterly denude him "
 
 CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIRATORS. 489 
 
 "Adam!" interposed Andrew, distractedly listening. 
 He did not disturb the Countess's flow. 
 
 "You may vilify and victimize Mr. Duffian, and strip 
 him of the honours of his birth, but, like the Martyrs, 
 he will still continue the perfect nobleman. Stoned, I 
 assure you that Mr. Duffian would preserve his breed- 
 ing. In character lie is exq[uisite ; a polish, to defy 
 misfortune." 
 
 "I suppose his table is good?" said Harriet, almost 
 ruffled by the Countess's lecture. 
 
 " Plate," was remarked in the cold tone of supreme indif- 
 ference. 
 
 "Hem ! good wines ?" Andrew asked, waking up a little, 
 and not wishing to be excluded altogether. 
 
 " All is of the very best," the Countess pursued her eulogy, 
 not looking at him. 
 
 " Don't you think you could — eh, Harry ? — manage a pint 
 for me, my dear ? " Andrew humbly petitioned. " This cold 
 water — ^ha! ha! my stomach don't like cold bathing," 
 
 His wretched joke rebounded from the impenetrable 
 armour of the ladies. 
 
 "The wine-cellar is locked," said his wife. "I have 
 sealed up the key till an inventory can be taken by some 
 agent of the creditors." 
 
 " What creditors ? " roared Andrew. 
 
 "You can have some of the servants' beer," Mrs. Cogglesby 
 appended. 
 
 Andrew studied her face to see whether she really was not 
 hoisting him with his own petard. Perceiving that she was 
 sincerely acting according to her sense of principle, he 
 fumed, and departed to his privacy, unable to stand it any 
 longer. 
 
 Then like a kite the Countess pounced upon his character. 
 Would the Honourable and Reverend Mr. Duffian decline to 
 participate in the sparest provender ? Would lie be guilty 
 of the discourtesy of leaving table without a bow or an 
 apology, even if reduced to extremest poverty ? No, indeed ! 
 which showed that, under all circumstances, a gentleman was 
 a gentleman. And, oh ! how she pitied her poor Harriet —
 
 490 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 eternally tied to a most vulgar little man, without the gilding 
 of wealth. 
 
 " And a fool in his business to boot, dear ! " 
 
 "These comparisons do no good," said Harriet. "Andrew 
 at least is not a renegade, and never shall be while I live. 1 
 Avill do my duty by him, however poor we are. And now, 
 Louisa, putting my husband out of the question, what ai'o 
 your intentions ? I don't understand bankruptcy, but I 
 imagine they can do nothing to wife and children. My little 
 ones must have a roof over their heads ; and, besides, there 
 is little Maxwell. You decline to go down to Lymport, of 
 coui'se." 
 
 "Decline!" cried the Countess, melodiously; "and do 
 not you?" 
 
 " As far as I am concerned — yes. But I am not to think 
 of myself." 
 
 The Countess meditated, and said : " Dear Mr. Duffian has 
 offered me his hospitality. Renegades are not absolutely in- 
 Jmman. They may be generous. I have no moral doubt 
 that Mr. Duffian would, upon my representation — dare I 
 venture ? " 
 
 " Sleep in his house ! break bread with him ! " exclaimed 
 Harriet. " What do you think I am made of? I would 
 perish — go to the workhouse, rather ! " 
 
 "I see you trooping there," said the Countess, intent on 
 the vision. 
 
 " And have you accepted his invitation for yourself, 
 Louisa ? " 
 
 The Countess was never to be daunted by threatening 
 aspects. She gave her affirmative with calmness and a deli- 
 berate smile. 
 
 " You are going to live with him ? " 
 
 " Live with him ! What expressions ! My husband 
 accompanies me." 
 
 Harriet drew up. 
 
 " I know nothing, Louisa, that could give me more pain.'' 
 
 The Countess patted Harriet's knee. "It succeeds to bank- 
 ruptcy, assuredly. But would you have me drag Silva to the 
 — the shop, Harriet, love ? Alternatives ! "
 
 CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIRATORS. 491 
 
 Mrs. Andrew got up and rang the bell to have the remains 
 of their dinner removed. When this was done, she said, — 
 
 " Louisa, I don't know whether I am justified : you told 
 me to-day I might keep my jewels, trinkets, and lace, and 
 such like. To me, I know they do not belong now : but I 
 will dispose of them to procure you an asylum somewliere — 
 they will fetch, I should think, 400^., — to prevent your going 
 to Mr. Duffian." 
 
 No exhibition of great-mindedness which the Countess 
 could perceive, ever found her below it. 
 
 "JS'ever, love, never ! " she said. 
 
 " Then, will you go to Evan ? " 
 
 " Evan ? I hate him ! " The olive-hued visage was dark. 
 It brightened as she added, " At least as much as my reli- 
 gious sentiments permit me to. A boy who has thwarted 
 me at every turn ! — disgraced us ! Indeed, I find it difiicult 
 to pardon you the supposition of such "a possibility as your 
 own consent to look on him ever again, Harriet." 
 
 " You have no children," said Mrs. Andrew. 
 
 The Countess mournfully admitted it. 
 
 " There lies your danger with Mr. Duffian, Louisa ! " 
 
 " What ! do you doubt my virtue ? " asked the Countess. 
 
 " Pish ! I fear something difierent. You understand me. 
 Mr. Duffian's moral reputation is none of the best, perhaps." 
 
 " That was before he renegaded,'^ said the Countess. 
 
 Harriet bluntly rejoined: "You will leave that house a 
 Eoman Catholic." 
 
 " Now you have spoken," said the Countess, pluming. 
 "Now let me explain myself. My dear, I have fought 
 worldly battles too long and too earnestly. I am rightly 
 punished. I do but quote Herbert Duffian's own words: he 
 is no flatterer — though you say he has such soft fingers. I 
 am now engaged in a spiritual contest. He is very wealthy ! 
 1 have resolved to rescue back to our Church what can benefit 
 the flock of which we form a portion, so exceedingly ! " 
 
 At this revelation of the Countess's spiritual contest, Mrs. 
 Andrew shook a worldly head. 
 
 "You have no chance with men there, Louisa." 
 
 " My Harriet complains of female weakness ! "
 
 492 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 " Yes. We are strong in our own element, Louisa. Don't 
 be tempted out of it." 
 
 Sublime, tbe Countess rose : 
 
 ' ' Element ! am I to be confined to one ? "What but spiri- 
 tual solaces could assist me to live, after the degradations I 
 have had heaped on me ? I renounce the world. I turn my 
 sight to realms where caste is unknown. I feel no shame 
 there of being a tailor's daughter. You see, I can bring my 
 tongue to name the thing in its actuality. Once, that member 
 would have Mistered. Confess to me that, in spite of your 
 children, you are tempted to howl at the idea of Lymport — " 
 
 The Countess paused, and like a lady about to fire off a 
 gun, appeared to tighten her nerves, crying out rapidly — 
 
 " Shop ! Shears ! Geese ! Cabbage ! Snip ! Kiue to a 
 man ! " 
 
 Even as the silence after explosions of cannon, that which 
 reigned in the room was deep and dreadful. 
 
 " See," the Countess continued, "you are horrified: you 
 shudder. I name all our titles, and if I wish to be red m my 
 cheeks, I must rouge. It is, in verity, as if my senseless clay 
 were pelted, as we heard of Evan at his first Lymport boys' 
 school. You remember when he told us the story ? He 
 lisped a trifle then. ' I'm the thon of a thnip.' Oh ! it was 
 hell-fire to us, then ; but now, what do I feel ? Why, I 
 avowed it to Herbert DuflS.an openly, and he said, that the 
 misfortune of dear Papa's birth did not the less enable him to 
 proclaim himself in conduct a nobleman's ofi'spring — " 
 
 "Which he never was." Harriet broke the rhapsody in 
 a monotonous low tone : the Countess was not compelled to 
 hear : 
 
 « — and that a large outfitter — one of the very largest, was 
 in reality a merchant, whose daughters have often wedded 
 nobles of the land, and become ancestresses ! Now, Harriet, 
 do you see what a truly religious mind can do for us in the 
 way of comfort ? Oh ! I bow in gratitude to Herbert Duffian. 
 I will not rest till I have led him back to our fold, recovered 
 from his error. He was our own preacher and pastor. He 
 quitted us from conviction. He shall return to us from con- 
 viction."
 
 CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIRATORS. 493 
 
 The Countess quoted texts, whicli I respect, and will not 
 repeat. She descanted further on spiritualism, and on the 
 balm that it was to tailors and their offspring; to all outcasts 
 from Society. 
 
 Overpowered by her, Harriet thus summed up her opinions : 
 " You were always self-willed, Louisa." 
 
 "Say, full of sacrifice, if you would be just," added the 
 Countess ; " and the victim of basest ingratitude." 
 
 " "Well, you are in a dangerous path, Louisa." 
 
 Harriet had the last word, which usually the Countess was 
 not disposed to accord ; but now she knew herself strength- 
 ened to do so, and was content to smile pityingly on her 
 sister. 
 
 Pull upon them in this frame of mind, arrived Caroline's 
 great news from Beckley. 
 
 It was then that the Countess's conduct proved a memorable 
 refutation of cynical philosophy; she rejoiced in the good 
 fortune of him who had offended her ! Though he was not 
 crushed and annihilated (as he deserved to be) by the wrong 
 he had done, the great-hearted woman pardoned him ! 
 
 Her first remark was : " Let him thank me for it or not, I 
 will lose no moment in hastening to load him with my con- 
 gratulations." 
 
 Pleasantly she joked Andrew, and defended him from 
 Harriet now. 
 
 "So we are not ail bankrupts, you see, dear brother-in- 
 law." 
 
 Andrew had become so demoralized by his own plot, that 
 in every turn of events he scented a similar piece of human 
 ingenuity. Harriet was angry with his disbelief, or say, the 
 gi'udging credit he gave to the glorious news. Notwithstand- 
 ing her calmness, the thoughts of Lymport had sickened her 
 soul, and it was only for the sake of her children, and from a 
 sense of the dishonesty of spending a farthing of the money 
 belonging, as she conceived, to the creditors, that she had 
 consented to go. 
 
 " I see your motive, Mr. Cogglesby," she observed. "Your 
 measures are disconcerted. I will remain here till my brother 
 gives me shelter."
 
 494 EVAN HARRINGTOK 
 
 " Oh, that'll do, my love ; that's all I want," said Andrew, 
 sincerely. 
 
 " Both of you, fools ! " the Countess interjected. " Know 
 you Evan so little ? He will receive us anywhere : his arms 
 are open to his kindred : bat to his heart the road is through 
 humiliation, and it is to his heart we seek admittance." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " Harriet inquired. 
 
 "Just this," the Countess answered in bold English : and 
 her eyes were lively, her figure elastic : "We must all of us 
 go down to the old shop and shake his hand there — every 
 man Jack of us ! — I'm only quoting the sailors, Harriet — and 
 that's the way to win him." 
 
 She snapped her fingers, laughing. Harriet stared at her, 
 and so did Andrew, though for a diff'erent reason. She 
 seemed to be transformed. Seeing him inclined to gape, she 
 ran up to him, caught up his chin between her ten fingers, 
 and kissed him on both cheeks, saying : 
 
 "You needn't come, if you're too proud, you know, little 
 man! " 
 
 And to Harriet's look of disgust, the cause for which she 
 divined with her native rapidity, she said : " What does it 
 matter? They will talk, but they can't look down on us now. 
 Why, this is my doing ! " 
 
 She came tripping to her tall sister, to ask plaintively : 
 " Mmjrit I be glad? " and bobbed a curtsey. 
 
 Harriet desired Andrew to leave them. Flushed and 
 indignant she then faced the Countess. 
 
 " So unnecessary! " she began. " What can excuse your 
 indiscretion, Louisa ? " 
 
 The Countess smiled to hear her talking to her younger 
 sister once more. She shrugged. 
 
 " Oh, if you will keep up the fiction, do. Andrew knows 
 — he isn't an idiot — and to him we can make light of it 
 now. What does anybody's birth matter, who's well off?" 
 
 It was impossible for Harriet to take that view. The 
 shop, if not the thing, might still have been concealed from 
 her husband, she thought. 
 
 "It mattered to me when / was well off," she said, 
 sternly. 
 
 1
 
 CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIRATORS. 405 
 
 " Yes ; and to me when /was ; but we've had a fall and a 
 lesson since that, my dear. Half the aristocracy of England 
 spring from shops ! — Shall I measure you? " 
 
 Harriet never felt such a desire to inflict a slap upon mor- 
 tal cheek. She marched away from her in a tiff. On the 
 other hand, Andrew was half-fascinated by the Countess's 
 sudden re-assumption of girlhood, and returned — silly fellow ! 
 to have another look at her. She had ceased, on reflection, 
 to be altogether so vivacious : her stronger second nature had 
 somewhat resumed its empire : still she was fi-esh, and could 
 at times be roguishly affectionate : and she patted him, and 
 petted him, and made much of him ; slightly railed at him 
 for his uxoriousness and domestic subjection, and proffered 
 him her fingers to try the taste of. The truth must be told : 
 Mr. Duffian not being handy, she in her renewed earthly 
 happiness wanted to see her charms in a woman's natural 
 mirror : namely, the face of man : if of man on his knees, all 
 the better : and though a little man is not much of a man, 
 and a sister's husband is, or should be, hardly one at all, 
 still some sort of a reflector he must be. Two or three jests 
 adapted to Andrew's palate achieved his momentary cap- 
 tivation. 
 
 He said : " 'Gad, I never kissed you in my life, Louy." 
 
 And she, with a flavour of delicate Irish brogue, "Why 
 don't ye catch opportunity by the tail, then ? " 
 
 Perfect innocence, I assure you, on both sides. 
 
 But mark how stupidity betrays. Andrew failed to under- 
 stand her, and act on the hint immediately. Had he done so, 
 the affair would have been over without a witness. As it 
 happened, delay permitted Harriet to assist at the ceremony. 
 
 " It wasn't your mouth, Louy," said Andrew. 
 
 "Oh, my mouth! — that I keep for my chosen," was 
 answered. 
 
 " 'Gad you make a fellow almost wish — " Andrew's fingers 
 worked over his poll, and then the spectre of righteous wrath 
 flashed on him — naughty little man that he was ! He knew 
 himself naughty, for it was the only time since his marriage 
 that he had ever been sorry to see his wife. This is a 
 comedy, and I must not preach lessons of life here : but I am
 
 496 EVAN HAERINGTOlSr. 
 
 obliged to remark that the husband must be proof, the sister- 
 in-law perfect, where arrangements exist that keep them 
 under one roof. She may be so like his wife ! Or, from the 
 knowledge she has of his circumstances, she may talk to him 
 almost as his wife. He may forget that she is not his wife ! 
 A nd then again, the small beginnings, which are in reality the 
 mighty barriers, are so easily slid over. But what is the use 
 of telling this to a pure generation ? My constant error 
 is in supposing that I write for the wicked people who 
 begat us. 
 
 Note, however, the difference between the woman and the 
 man! Shame confessed Andrew's naughtiness; he sniggered 
 pitiably : whereas the Countess jumped up, and pointing at 
 him, asked her sister what she thought of that. Her next 
 sentence, coolly delivered, related to some millinery matter. 
 If this was not innocence, what is ? 
 
 Nevertheless, I must here state that the scene related, 
 innocent as it was, and, as one would naturally imagine, of 
 puny consequence, if any, did no less a thing than, subse- 
 quently, to precipitate the Protestant Countess de Saldar into 
 the bosom of the Roman Catholic Church. A little bit of 
 play ! 
 
 It seems barely just. But if, as I have heard, a lady has 
 trod on a pebble and broken her nose, tremendous results like 
 these warn us to be careful how we walk. As for play, 
 it was never intended that we should play with flesh and 
 blood. 
 
 And, oh, be charitable, matrons of Britain ! See here, 
 Andrew Cogglesby, who loved his wife as his very soul, and 
 who almost disliked her sister; — in ten minutes the latter 
 had set his head spinning ! The whole of the day he went 
 about the house meditating frantically on the possibility of 
 his Harriet demanding a divorce. 
 
 She was not the sort of woman to do that. But one thing 
 she resolved to do; and it was, to go to Lymport -with Louisa, 
 and having once got her out of her dwelling-place, never to 
 allow her to enter it, wherever it might be, in the light of a 
 resident again. Whether anything but the menace of a par- 
 ticipation in her conjugal possessions could have despatched
 
 CONTAINS A WARNING TO ALL CONSPIRATORS. . 497 
 
 her to that hateful place, I doubt. She went : she would not 
 let Andrew be out of her sight. Growing haughtier toward 
 him at every step, she advanced to the strange old shop, 
 EvAisr Haeeington over the door ! There the Countess, 
 having meantime returned to her state of womanhood, shared 
 her shudders. They entered, and passed in to Mrs. Mel, 
 leaving their footman, apparently, in the rear, Evan was 
 not visible. A man in the shop, with a yard measure negli- 
 gently adorning his shoulders, said that Mr. Harrington was 
 in the habit of quitting the shop at five. 
 
 "Deuced good habit, too," said Andrew. 
 
 " Why, sir," observed another, stepping forward, " as you 
 truly say — yes. But — ah ! Mr. Andrew Cogglesby ? Pleasure 
 of meeting you once in Fallowfield ! Eemember Mr. Perkins ? 
 — the lawyer, not the maltster. Will you do me the favour 
 to step out with me? " 
 
 Andrew followed him into the street. 
 
 "Are you aware of our young friend's good fortune?" 
 said Lawyer Perkins. "Yes. Ah! Well! — Would you 
 believe that any sane person in his condition, now — nonsense 
 apart — could bring his mind wilfully to continue a beggar ? 
 No. Um ! Well, Mr. Cogglesby, I may tell you that I hold 
 here in my hands a document by which Mr. Evan Harrington 
 transfers the whole of the property bequeathed to him to 
 Lady Jocelyn, and that I have his orders to execute it 
 instantly, and deliver it over to her ladyship, after the will 
 is settled, probate, and so forth : I presume there will be 
 an arrangement about his father's debts. Now what do 
 you think of that ? " 
 
 "Think, sir, — think!'' cried Andrew, cocking his head 
 at him like an indignant bird, " I think he's a damned 
 young idiot to do so, and you're a confounded old rascal to 
 help him." 
 
 Leaving Mr. Perkins to digest his judgement, which he 
 had solicited, Andrew bounced back into the shop. 
 
 K K
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 IX ■\VHICH THE SHOP BECOMES THE CEJfTEE OF ATTEACTIOIf. 
 
 Under the first lustre of a May-night, Evan was galloping 
 over the moon-shadowed downs toward Beckley. At the 
 ridge commanding the woods, the park, and the stream, his 
 horse stopped, as if from habit, snorted, and puffed its sides, 
 while he gazed steadily across the long lighted vale. Soon 
 he began to wind down the glaring chalk-track, and reached 
 grass levels. Here he broke into a round pace, till, gaining 
 the first straggling cottages of the village, he knocked the 
 head of his whip against the garden-gate of one, and a man 
 came out, who saluted him, and held the reins. 
 
 " Animal does work, sir," said the man. 
 
 Evan gave directions for it to be looked to, and went on to 
 the doorway, where he was met by a young woman. She 
 uttered a respectful greeting, and begged him to enter. 
 
 The door closed, he flung himself into a chair, and said : 
 " Well, Susan, how is the child?" 
 
 " Oh ! he's always well, Mr. Harrington ; he don't know 
 the tricks o' trouble yet." 
 
 " Will Polly be here soon ? " 
 
 " At a quarter after nine she said, sir." 
 
 Evan bade her sit down. After examining her features 
 quietly, he said : 
 
 "I'm glad to see you here, Susan. You don't regret that 
 you followed my advice?" 
 
 "No, sir; now it's over, I don't. Mother's kind enough, 
 and father doesn't mention anything. She's a-bed with bile 
 — father's out." 
 
 " But what ? There's something on your mind." 
 
 " I shall cry, if I begin, Mr. Harrington." 
 
 " See how far you can get without." 
 
 " Oh! sir, then," said Susan, on a sharp rise of her bosom, 
 '* it ain't my fault. I wouldn't cause trouble to Mr. Harry,
 
 THE SHOP BECOMES AN ATTRACTION. 499 
 
 or any friend of yours ; but, sir, father have got hold of hia 
 letters to me, and he says, there's a promise in 'em — least, 
 one of *em ; and it's as good as law, he says — he heard it in 
 a public-house ; and he's gone over to Fall' field to a law- 
 gentleman there." Susan was compelled to give way to some 
 sobs. " It ain't for me father does it, sir," she pleaded. " I 
 tried to stop him, knowing how it'd vex you, Mr. Harrington ; 
 but he's heady about points, though a quiet man ordinarj' ; 
 and he says he don't expect — and I know now no gentleman' d 
 marry such as me — I ain't such a stupid gaper at words as I 
 used to be ; but father says it's for the child's sake, and he 
 does it to have him provided for. Please, don't ye be angry 
 with me, sir." 
 
 Susan's half-controlled spasms here got the better of her. 
 
 While Evan was awaiting the return of her calmer senses, 
 the latch was lifted, and Polly appeared. 
 
 "At it again ! " was her sneering comment, after a short 
 survey of her apron- screened sister ; and then she bobbed to 
 Evan. 
 
 "It's whimper, whimper, and squeak, squeak, half their 
 lives with some girls. After that they go wondering they 
 can't see to thread a needle ! The neighbours, I suppose. I 
 should like to lift the top off some o' their houses. I hope I 
 haven't kept you, sir." 
 
 " No, Polly," said Evan ; " but you must be charitable, or 
 I shall think you want a lesson yourself. Mr. Raikes tells me 
 you want to see me. What is it ? Yoa seem to be corre- 
 spondents." 
 
 Polly replied : " Oh, no, Mr. Harrington : only accidental 
 ones — when something particular's to be said. And he dances 
 -like on the paper, so that you can't help laughing. Isn't 
 he a very eccentric gentleman, sir?" 
 
 "Very," said Evan. "I've no time to lose, Polly." 
 
 " Here, you must go," the latter called to her sister. 
 "Now pack at once. Sue. Do rout out, and do leave off 
 thinking you've got a candle at your eyes, for Goodness' sake ! " 
 
 Susan was too well accustomed to PoUy's usage to com- 
 plain. She murmured a gentle " Good night, sir," and 
 retired. Whereupon PoUy exclaimed : " Bless her poor dear 
 
 KK 2
 
 600 EVAN HAKRINGTON. 
 
 soft heart ! It's us hard ones that get on best in the world. 
 I'm treated better than her, Mr. Harrington, and I know I 
 ain't worth half of her. It goes nigh to make one religious, 
 only to see how exactly like Scripture is the way Beckley 
 treats her, whose only sin is her being so soft as to believe in 
 a man! Oh, dear I Mr. Harrington! I wish I had good news 
 for you." 
 
 In spite of all his self-control, Evan breathed quickly and 
 looked eagerly. 
 
 "Speak it out, PoUy," 
 
 " Oh, dear ! I must, I suppose," Polly answered. " Mr. 
 Laxley's become a lord now, Mr. Harrington." 
 
 Evan tasted in his soul the sweets of contrast. 
 
 ''Well?" 
 
 "And my Miss Eose — she — " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 Moved by the keen hunger of his eyes, Polly hesitated. 
 Her face betrayed a sudden change of mind. 
 
 " Wants to see you, sir," she said, resolutely. 
 
 " To see me? " 
 
 Evan stood up, so pale that Polly was frightened. 
 
 "Where is she ? Where can I meet her?" 
 
 " Please don't take it so, Mr. Harrington." 
 
 Evan commanded her to tell him what her mistress had said. 
 
 Ifow up to this point Polly had spoken truth. She was 
 positive her mistress did want to see him. Polly, also, with 
 a maiden's tender guile, desii'ed to bring them together for 
 once, though it were for the last time, and for no good on 
 earth. She had been about to confide to him her young 
 mistress's position toward Lord Laxley, when his sharp 
 interrogation stopped her. Shrinking from absolute inven- 
 tion, she remarked that of course she could not exactly 
 remember Miss Rose's words; which seemed indeed too much 
 to expect of her. 
 
 " She will see me to-night ? " said Evan. 
 
 " I don't know about to-night," Polly replied. 
 
 " Go to her instantly. Tell her I am ready. I will be at 
 the West park-gates. This is why you wrote, Polly ? Why 
 did you lose time ? Don't delay, my good girl I Come I "
 
 THE SHOP BECOMES AN ATTRACTION. 501 
 
 Evan had opened the dooi\ He would not allow Polly an 
 instant for expostulation; but drew her out, saj-ing, "You 
 will attend to the gates yourself. Or come and tell me the 
 day, if she appoints another." 
 
 Polly made a final effort to escape from the pit she was 
 being pushed into. 
 
 "Mr. Harrington! it wasn't to tell you this I wrote. 
 Miss Eose is engaged, sir." 
 
 "I understand," said Evan, hoarsely, scarcely feeling it, 
 as is the case with men who are shot through the 
 heart. 
 
 Ten minutes later he was on horseback by the Fallowfield 
 gates, with the tidings shrieking through his frame. The 
 night was still, and stiller in the pauses of the nightingales. 
 He sat there, neither thinking of them nor reproached in his 
 manhood for the tears that rolled down his cheeks. Presently 
 his horse's ears pricked, and the animal gave a low neigh. 
 Evan's eyes fixed harder on the length of gravel leading to 
 the house. There was no sign, no figure. Out from the 
 smooth grass of the lane a couple of horsemen issued, and 
 came straight to the gates. He heard nothing till one spoke. 
 It was a familiar voice. 
 
 "By Jove, Eerdy, here is the fellow, and we've been all 
 the way to Lymport ! " 
 
 Evan started from his trance. 
 
 "It's you, Harrington ? " 
 
 "Yes, Harry." 
 
 "Sir!" exclaimed that youth, evidently flushed with wine, 
 "what the devil do you mean by addressing me by my 
 Christian name?" 
 
 Laxley pushed his horse's head in front of Harry. In a 
 manner apparently somewhat improved by his new dignity, 
 he said : " We have ridden to Lymport to speak to you, sir. 
 Eavour me by moving a little ahead of the lodge." 
 . Evan bowed, and moved beside him a short way down the 
 lane, Harry following. 
 
 "The purport of my visit, sir," Laxley began, "was to 
 make known to you that Miss Jocelyn has done me the 
 honour to accept me as her husband. I learn from her that
 
 502 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 during the term of your residence in the house, you contrived 
 to extract from her a promise to which she attaches certain 
 scruples. She pleases to consider herself bound to you till 
 you release her. My object is to demand that you will do so 
 immediately." 
 
 Evan did not reply. 
 
 " Should you refuse to make this reparation for the harm 
 you have done to her and her family," Laxley pursued, " I 
 must let you know that there are means of compelling you 
 to it, and that those means will be employed." 
 
 Harry, fuming at these postured sentences, burst out : 
 " What do you talk to the fellow in that way for? A fellow 
 who makes a fool of my cousin, and then wants to get us to 
 buy oif my sister! "What's he spying after here? The 
 place is ours till we troop. I tell you there's only one way 
 of dealing with him, and if you don't do it, I will." 
 
 Laxley pulled his reins with a jerk that brought him to 
 the rear. 
 
 " Miss Jocelyn has commissioned you to make this demand 
 on me in her name ? " said Evan. 
 
 "I make it in my own right," returned Laxley. " I de- 
 mand a prompt reply." 
 
 " My lord, you shall have it. Miss Jocelyn is not bound 
 to me by any engagement. Should she entertain scruples 
 which I may have it in mj'' power to obliterate, I shall not 
 hesitate to do so — but only to her. What has passed between 
 us I hold sacred." 
 
 " Hark at that ! " shouted Harry. " The damned trades- 
 man means money ! You ass, Ferdinand ! What did we go 
 to Lymport for ? Not to bandy words. Here ! I've got my 
 own quarrel with you, Harrington. You've been setting 
 ihat girl's father on me. Can you deny that ? " 
 
 It was enough for Harry that Evan did not deny it. The 
 calm disdain which he read on Evan's face acted on his fury, 
 and digging his heels into his horse's flanks he rushed full at 
 him and dealt him a sharp flick with his whip. Evan's 
 beast reared. 
 
 " Accept my conditions, sir, or aff'ord me satisfaction," 
 cried Laxley.
 
 THE SHOP BECOMES AN ATTRACTION. 503 
 
 "You do mc great honour, my lord; but I have told you I 
 cannot," said Evan, curbing his horse. 
 
 At that moment Hose came among them. Evan raised his 
 hat, as did Laxley. Harry, a little behind the others, per. 
 formed a laborious mock salute, and then ordered her back to 
 the house. A quick altercation ensued ; the end being that 
 Harry managed to give his sister the context of the previous 
 conversation. 
 
 "Now go back, Eose," said Laxley. " I have particular 
 business with Mr. Harrington." 
 
 "I came to see him," said Rose, in a clear voice. 
 
 Laxley reddened angrily. 
 
 " Then tell him at once you want to be rid of him," her 
 brother called to her. 
 
 Rose looked at Evan. Could he not see that she had no 
 word in her soul for him of that kind ? Yes : but love is not 
 alwaj s to be touched to tenderness even at the sight of love. 
 
 "Rose," he said, "I hear from Lord Laxley, that you 
 fancy yourself not at liberty ; and that you require me to 
 disengage you." 
 
 He paused. Did he expect her to say there that she 
 wished nothing of the sort ? Her stedfast eyes spoke as 
 much : but misery is wanton, and will pull all down to it. 
 Even Harry was checked by his tone, and Laxley sat silent. 
 The fact that something more than a tailor was speaking 
 seemed to impress them. 
 
 " Since I have to say it, Rose, I hold you in no way bound 
 to me. The presumj)tion is forced upon me. May you have 
 all the happiness I pray God to give you. Gentlemen, good 
 night ! " 
 
 He bowed and was gone. How keenly she could have re- 
 torted on that false prayer for her happiness! Her limbs 
 were nerveless, her tongue speechless. He had thrown her 
 off — there was no barrier now between herself and Ferdinand. 
 "Why did Ferdinand speak to her with that air of gentle 
 authority, bidding her return to the house ? She was inca- 
 pable of seeing, what the young lord acutely felt, that he had 
 stooped very much in helping to bring about such a scene. 
 She had no idea of having trifled with him and her own
 
 504 EVAN HARRINGTOISr. 
 
 heart, when she talked feebly of her bondage to another, as 
 one who would be warmer to him were she free. Swiftly 
 she compared the two that loved her, and shivered as if she 
 had been tossed to the embrace of a block of ice. 
 
 " Ton are cold, Eose," said Laxley, bending to lay his 
 hand on her shoulder. 
 
 "Pray, never touch me," she answered, and walked on 
 hastily to the house. 
 
 Entering it, she remembered that Evan had dwelt there. 
 A sense of desolation came over her. She turned to Fer- 
 dinand remorsefully, saying : " Dear Ferdinand ! " and 
 allowed herself to be touched and taken close to him. "When 
 she reached her bed-room, she had time to reflect that he 
 had kissed her on the lips, and then she fell down and shed 
 such tears as had never been drawn from her before. 
 
 Next day she rose with an undivided mind. Belonging 
 henceforth to Ferdinand, it was necessary that she should 
 invest him immediately with transcendent qualities. His 
 absence of character rendered this easy. What she had 
 done for Evan, she did for him. But now, as if the Fates 
 had been lying in watch to entrap her and chain her, that 
 they might have her at their mercy, her dreams of Evan's 
 high nature — hitherto dreams only — were to be realized. 
 With the purposeless waywardness of her sex, Polly Wheedle, 
 while dressing her young mistress, and though quite aware 
 that the parting had been spoken, must needs relate her 
 sister's story and Evan's share in it. Rose praised him 
 like one for ever aloof from him. Fay, she could secretly 
 congratulate herself on not being deceived. Upon that came 
 a letter from Caroline : 
 
 " Do not misjudge my brother. He knew Juliana's love 
 for him and rejected it. Tou will soon have proofs of his 
 disinterestedness. Then do not forget that he works to 
 support us all. I vrrite this with no hope save to make you 
 just to him. That is the utmost he will ever anticipate." 
 
 It gave no beating of the heart to Rose to hear good of 
 Evan now : but an increased serenity of confidence in the 
 accurary of her judgement of persons.
 
 THE SHOP BECOMES AN ATTRACTION. 505 
 
 The arrival of lawyer Perkins supplied the key to Caro- 
 line's communication. No one was less astonished than Hose 
 at the news that Evan renounced the estate. She smiled at 
 HaiTy's contrite stupefaction, and her father's incapacity of 
 belief in conduct so singular, caused her to lift her head 
 and look down on her parent. 
 
 " Shows he knows nothing of the world, poor young 
 fellow ! " said Sir Franks. 
 
 "Nothing more clearly," observed Lady Jocelyn. "I 
 presume I shall cease to be blamed for having had him here ? " 
 
 " Upon my honour, he must have the soul of a gentle- 
 man ! " said the baronet. " There's nothing he can expect 
 in return, you know ! " 
 
 " One would think, Papa, you had always been dealing 
 with tradesmen ! " remarked Rose, to whom her father now 
 accorded the treatment due to a sensible girl. 
 
 Laxley was present at the family consultation. What was 
 his opinion ? Rose manifested a slight anxiety to hear it. 
 
 " What those sort of fellows do never surprises me,'' he 
 said, with a semi-yawn. 
 
 Rose felt fixe on her cheeks. 
 
 "It's only what the young man is bound to do," said 
 Mrs. Shorne. 
 
 " His duty, aunt ? I hope we may all do it ! " Rose in- 
 terjected. 
 
 " Championing him again?" 
 
 Rose quietly turned her face, too sure of her cold appre- 
 ciation of him to retort. But yesterday night a word from 
 him might have made her his ; and here she sat advocating 
 the nobility of his nature with the zeal of a barrister in fuU 
 swing of practice. Remember, however, that a kiss separates 
 them : and how many millions of leagues that counts for in 
 love, in a pure girl's thought, I leave you to guess. 
 
 Now, in what Avay was Evan to be thanked ? how was he 
 to be treated ? Sir Franks proposed to go down to him in 
 person, accompanied by Harry. Lady Jocelyn acquiesced. 
 But Rose said to her mother : 
 
 " Will not you wound his sensitiveness by going to him 
 there ? "
 
 506 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 " Possibly," said her ladyship. " Shall we write and asK 
 him to eome to us ? " 
 
 " No, Mama. Could we ask him to make a journey to re- 
 ceive our thanks ? " 
 
 "Not till we have solid ones to offer, perhaps." 
 
 " He will not let us help him, Mama, unless we have all 
 given him our hands." 
 
 " Probably not. There's always a fund of nonsense in 
 those who are capable of great things, I observe. It shall 
 he a family expedition, if you like." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Mrs. Shorne. "Do you mean that 
 you intend to allow Rose to make one of the party ? Pranks ! 
 is that i/our idea ? " 
 
 Sir Franks looked at his wife. 
 
 " What harm ?" Lady Jocelyn asked; for Rose's absence 
 of conscious guile in appealing to her reason had subjugated 
 that great faculty. 
 
 "Simply a sense of propriety, Emily," said Mrs. Shorne, 
 with a glance at Ferdinand. 
 
 "You have no objection,'! suppose!" Lady Jocelyn ad- 
 dressed him. 
 
 " Ferdinand will join us," said Rose. 
 
 " Thank you. Rose, I'd rather not," he replied. " I 
 thought we had done with the fellow for good last night." 
 
 " Last night ? " quoth Lady Jocelyn. 
 
 'No one spoke. The interrogation was renewed. Was it 
 Rose's swift instinct which directed her the shortest way to 
 gain her point ? or that she was glad to announce that her 
 degrading engagement was at an end? She said: "Fer- 
 dinand and Mr. Harrington came to an understanding last 
 night, in my presence." 
 
 That, strange as it struck on their ears, appeared to be 
 quite sufficient to aU, albeit the necessity for it was not so 
 very clear. The carriage was ordered forthwith ; Lady 
 Jocelyn went to dress ; Rose drew Ferdinand away into the 
 garden. Then, with all her powers, she entreated him to 
 join her. 
 
 "Thank you Hose," he said ; " I have no taste for the 
 genus." 
 
 " For my sake, I beg it, Ferdinand."
 
 A LOVERS' PARTING. 507 
 
 "It's really too mueli to ask of me, Eose." 
 
 " If you care for me, you will." 
 
 " 'Pon my honour, quite impossible I " 
 
 "You refuse, Ferdinand ? " 
 
 " My London tailor'd find me out, and never forgive me." 
 
 This pleasantry stopped her soft looks. Why she wished 
 him to be with her, she could not have said. For a thousand 
 reasons : which implies no distinct one : something prophe- 
 tically pressing in her blood. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 A LOVEES PAETING. 
 
 Now, to suppose oneself the fashioner of such a chain of 
 events as this which brought the whole of the Harrington 
 family in tender unity together once more, would have elated 
 an ordinary mind. But to the Countess de Saldar, it was 
 simply an occasion for reflecting that she had misunderstood 
 — and could most sincerely forgive — Providence. She ad- 
 mitted to herself that it was not entu'ely her work ; for she 
 never would have had their place of meeting to be the Shop. 
 Seeing, however, that her end was gained, she was entitled 
 to the credit of it, and could pardon the means adopted. Her 
 brother lord of Beckley Court, and all of them assembled in 
 the old 193, Main Street, Lymport ! What matter for proud 
 humility ! Providence had answered her numerous petitions, 
 but in its own way. Stipulating that she must swallow this 
 pill, Providence consented to serve her. She swallowed it 
 with her wonted courage. In half an hour subsequent to 
 her arrival at Lymport, she laid siege to the heart of Old Tom 
 Cogglesby, whom she found installed in the parlour, com- 
 fortably sipping at a tumbler of rum-and-water. Old Tom was 
 astonished to meet such an agreeable unpretentious woman, 
 who talked of tailors and lords with equal ease, appeared to 
 comprehend a man's habits instinctively, and could amuse 
 him while she ministered to them.
 
 508 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 " Can you cook, ma'am ? " asked Old Tom. 
 
 "All but that," said the Countess, with a smile of sweet 
 meaning. 
 
 " Ha ! then you won't suit me as well as your mother." 
 
 " Take care you do not excite my emulation," she returned, 
 graciously, albeit disgusted at his tone. 
 
 To Harriet, Old Tom had merely nodded. There he sat, in 
 the arm-chair, sucking the liquor, with the glimpse of a sour 
 chuckle on his cheeks. Now and then, during the evening, 
 he rubbed his hands sharply, but spoke little. The unbend- 
 ing Harriet did not conceal her disdain of him. When he 
 ventured to allude to the bankruptcy, she cut him short. 
 
 " Pray, excuse me — I am unacquainted with affairs of 
 business — I cannot even understand my husband." 
 
 "Lord bless my soul! " Old Tom exclaimed, rolling his 
 eyes, 
 
 Caroline had informed her sisters up-stairs that their 
 mother was ignorant of Evan's change of fortune, and that 
 Evan desired her to continue so for the present. Caroline 
 appeared to be pained by the subject, and was glad when 
 Louisa sounded his mysterious behaviour by saying : " Evan 
 has a native love of concealment — he must be humoured." 
 
 At the supper, Mr. John Raikes made his bow. He was 
 modest and reserved. It was known that this young gentle- 
 man acted as shopman there. "With a tenderness for his 
 position worthy of all respect, the Countess spared his feel- 
 ings by totally ignoring his presence ; whereat he, unac- 
 customed to such great-minded treatment, retired to bed, a 
 hater of his kind. Harriet and Caroline went next. The 
 Countess said she would wait up for Evan, but hearing 
 that his hours of return were about the chimes of matins, she 
 cried exultingly : "Darling Papa all over!" and departed 
 likewise. Mrs. Mel, when she had mixed Old Tom's third 
 glass, wished the brothers good night, and they were left to 
 exchange what sentiments they thought proper for the occa- 
 sion. The Countess had certainly disappointed Old Tom's 
 farce, in a measxire ; and he expressed himself puzzled by her. 
 "You ain't the only one," said his brother. Andrew, with 
 some effort, held his tongue concerning the news of Evan —
 
 A LOVERS' PARTING. 609 
 
 his fortune and his folly, till he could talk to the youth in 
 person. 
 
 All took their seats at the early breakfast next morning. 
 
 "Has Evan not come home yet ? " was the Countess's first 
 question. 
 
 Mrs. Mel replied, "No." 
 
 " Do you know where he has gone, dear Mama ?" 
 
 " He chooses his own way." 
 
 "And you fear that it leads somewhere?" added the 
 Coxintess. 
 
 " I fear that it leads to knocking up the horse he rides." 
 
 " The horse, Mama ! He is out on a horse all night ! But 
 don't you see, dear old pet ! his morals, at least, are safe on 
 horseback." 
 
 " The horse has to be paid for, Louisa," said her mother, 
 sternly ; and then, for she had a lesson to read to the guests 
 of her son, " Ready money doesn't come by joking. What 
 will the creditors think ? If he intends to be honest in 
 earnest, he must give up four-feet mouths." 
 
 " ¥ouvteen-{eet, ma'am, you mean," said Old Tom, count- 
 ing the heads at table. 
 
 " Bravo, Mama ! " cried the Countess, and as she was 
 sitting near her mother, she must show how prettily she 
 kissed, by pouting out her playful lips to her parent. " Do 
 be economical always ! And mind ! for the sake of the 
 wretched animals, I will intercede for you to be his inspector 
 of stables." 
 
 This, with a glance of intelligence at her sisters. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Raikes," said Andrew, " yoi« keep good hours, 
 at all events — eh ? " 
 
 "Up with the lark," said Old Tom. " Ha ! 'fraid he won't 
 be so early when he gets rid of his present habits — eh ?" 
 
 "Nee dierum numerum, ut nos, sed noctium computant," 
 said Mr. Raikes, and both the brothers sniffed like dogs that 
 have put their noses to a hot, coal, and the Countess, who was 
 less insensible to the aristocracy of the dead languages than 
 are women generally, gave him the recognition that is occa- 
 sionally afforded the family tutor. 
 
 About the hour of ten Evan arrived. He was subjected to
 
 510 EVAN HAERmGTON. 
 
 the hottest embrace he bad ever yet received from hia sistei 
 Louisa. 
 
 " Darling ! " she called him before them all. " Ob ! how 
 I suffer for this ignominy I see you compelled for a moment 
 to endure. But it is but for a moment. They must vacate ; 
 and you will soon be out of this horrid hole." 
 
 " Where he just said he was glad to give us a welcome," 
 muttered old Tom. 
 
 Evan beard him, and laughed. The Countess laughed too. 
 
 " No, we will not be impatient. We are poor insignificant 
 people ! " she said ; and turning to her mother, added : " And 
 yet I doubt not you think the smallest of our landed gentry 
 equal to great continental seigneurs. I do not say the contrary." 
 
 "You will fill Evan's head with nonsense till you make 
 him knock up a horse a week, and never go to his natural 
 bed," said Mrs. Mel, angrily. " Look at him! Is a face like 
 that fit for business ? " 
 
 " Certainly, certainly not! " said the Countess. 
 
 " Well, Mother, the horse is dismissed, — you won't have 
 to complain any more," said Evan, touching her hand. 
 "Another history commences from to-day." 
 
 The Countess watched him admiringly. Such powers of 
 acting she could not have ascribed to him. 
 
 "Another history, indeed ! " she said. " By the way, Van, 
 love ! was it out of Glamorganshire — were we Tudors, ac- 
 cording to Papa ? or only Powys chieftains ? It's of no mo- 
 ment, but it helps one in conversation." 
 
 " Not half so much as good ale, though ! " was Old Tom's 
 comment. 
 
 The Countess did not perceive its fitness, till Evan burst 
 into a laugh, and then she said : 
 
 "Oh! we shall never be ashamed of the Brewery. Do 
 not fear that, Mr. Cogglesby." 
 
 Old Tom saw his farce reviving, and encouraged the Coun- 
 tess to patronize him. She did so to an extent that called on 
 her Mrs. Mel's reprobation, which was so cutting and perti- 
 nent, that Harriet was compelled to defend her sister, remark- 
 ing that perhaps her mother would soon learn that Louisa 
 was justified in not permitting herself and family to be classed
 
 A LOVERS' PARTING. 611 
 
 too low. At this Andrew, coming from a private interview 
 with Evan, threw up his hands and eyes as one who foretold 
 astonishment but counselled humility. What with the effort 
 of those -who knew a little to imply a great deal ; of those 
 who knew all to betray nothing ; and of those who were kept 
 in ignorance to strain a fact out of the conflicting innuendos 
 the general mystification waxed apace, and was at its 
 height, when a name struck on Evan's ear that went 
 through his blood like a touch of the torpedo. 
 
 He had been called into the parlour to assist at a consulta- 
 tion over the Brewery affairs. Mr. John Raikes opened the 
 door, and announced " Sir Franks and Lady Jocelyn." 
 
 Them he could meet, though it was hard for his pride to 
 pardon their visit to him there. But when his eyes discerned 
 Rose behind them, the passions of his lower nature stood 
 up armed. What could she have come for but to humiliate, 
 or play with him ? 
 
 A very few words enabled the Countess to guess the cause 
 for this visit. Of course, it was to beg time ! But they 
 thanked Evan. For something generous, no doubt. Sir 
 Franks took him aside, and returning remarked to his wife 
 that she perhaps would have greater influence with him. All 
 this while Rose sat talking to Mrs. Andrew Cogglesby, Mrs. 
 Strike, and Evan's mother. She saw by his face the offence 
 she had committed, and acted on by one of her impulses, 
 said : " Mama, I think if I were to speak to Mr. Harring- 
 ton " 
 
 Ere her mother could make light of the suggestion. Old 
 Tom had jumped up, and bowed out his arm. 
 
 "Allow me to conduct ye to the drawing-room, upstairs, 
 young lady. He'U follow, safe enough ! " 
 
 Rose had not stipulated for that. Nevertheless, seeing no 
 cloud on her mother's face, or her father's, she gave Old Tom 
 her hand, and awaited a movement from Evan. It was too 
 late to object to it on either side. Old Tom had caught the 
 tide at the right instant. Much as if a grim old genie had 
 planted them together, the lovers found themselves alone. 
 
 "Evan, you forgive me?" she began, looking up at him 
 timidly.
 
 512 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 ""With all my heart, Rose," he answered, with great cheer- 
 fulness. 
 
 "No. I know your heart better. Oh, Evan! you must 
 be sure that we respect you too much to wound you. We 
 came to thank you for your generosity. Do you refuse to 
 accept anything from us ? How can we take this that you 
 thrust on us, unless in some way — " 
 
 " Say no more," he interposed. "You see me here. You 
 know me as I am, now." 
 
 "Yes, yes! "the tears stood in her eyes. "Why did I 
 come, you would ask ? That is what you cannot forgive ! 
 I see now how useless it was. Evan ! why did you betray 
 me?" 
 
 " Betray you, Rose ? " 
 
 " You said that you loved me once." 
 
 She was weeping, and all his spirit melted, and his love 
 cried out: "I said 'till death,' and till death it will be, 
 Rose." 
 
 " Then why, why did you betray me, Evan ? I know it 
 all. But if you blackened yourself to me, was it not because 
 you loved something better than me ? And now you think 
 me false ! Which of us two has been false ? It's silly to 
 talk of these things now — too late ! But be just. I wish 
 that we may be friends. Can we, unless you bend a 
 little ? " 
 
 The tears streamed down her cheeks, and in her lovely 
 humility he saw the baseness of that pride of his which had 
 hitherto held him up. 
 
 " Now that you are in this house where I was born and 
 am to live, can you regret what has come between us, 
 Rose ? " 
 
 Her lips quivered in pain. 
 
 " Can I do anything else but regret it all my life, Evan ? " 
 
 How was it possible for him to keep his strength ? 
 
 " Rose ! " he spoke with a passion that made her shrink, 
 "are you bound to this man?" and to the drooping of her 
 eyes, "JSTo. Impossible, for you do not love him. Break it. 
 Break the engagement you cannot fulfil. Break it and 
 belong to me. It sounds ill for me to say that in such a
 
 A LOVERS' PARTING. 513 
 
 place. But Rose, I will leave it. I will accept any assist- 
 ance that your father — that any man will give me. Beloved 
 — noble girl ! I see my falseness to you, though I little 
 thought it at the time — fool that I was ! Be my help, my 
 guide — as the soul of my body ! Be mine ! " 
 
 " Oh, Evan ! " she clasped her hands in terror at the change 
 in him, that was hurrying her she knew not whither, and 
 trembling, held them supplicatingly. 
 
 "Yes, Rose ; you have taught me what love can be. You 
 cannot marry that man." 
 
 " But, my honour, Evan ! l^o. I do not love him ; for 
 I can love but one. He has my pledge. Can I break it? " 
 
 The stress on the question choked him, just as his heart 
 sprang to her. 
 
 " Can you face the woi'ld with me, Rose ? " 
 
 " Oh, Evan ! is there an escape for me ? Think ! Decide ! 
 No — no ! there is not. My mother, I know, looks on it so. 
 "Why did she trust me to be with you here, but that she 
 thinks me engaged to him, and has such faith in me ? Oh, 
 help me ! — be mi/ guide. Think whether you would trust 
 me hereafter! I should despise myself." 
 
 " Not if you marry him ! " said Evan, bitterly. And then 
 thinking as men will think when they look on the figure of 
 a fair gii'l marching serenely to a sacrifice, the horrors of 
 which they insist that she ought to know : — half-hating her 
 for her calmness — adoring her for her innocence : he said : 
 " It rests with you. Rose. The world will approve you, and 
 if your conscience does, why — farewell, and may heaven be 
 your help." 
 
 She murmured, "Earewell." 
 
 Did she expect more to be said by him ? "What did she 
 want or hope for now ? And yet a light of hunger grew in 
 her eyes, brighter and brighter, as it were on a wave of 
 yearning. 
 
 " Take my hand once," she faltered. 
 
 Her hand and her whole shape he took, and she with closed 
 eyes let him strain her to his breast. 
 
 Their swoon was broken by the opening of the door, where 
 Old Tom Cogglesby and Lady Jocelyn appeared. 
 
 L L
 
 514 EVAN HAREINGTON. 
 
 " 'Gad ! he seems to have got his recompense — eh, my 
 lady?" cried Old Tom. 
 
 However satisfactorily they might have explained the case, 
 it certainly did seem so. 
 
 Lady Jocelyn looked not absolutely displeased. Old Tom 
 ■was chuckling at her elbow. The two principal actors re- 
 mained dumb. 
 
 " I suppose, if we leave young people to settle a thing, 
 this is how they do it," her ladyship remarked. 
 
 " 'Gad, and they do it well ! " cried Old Tom. 
 
 Rose, with a deep blush on her cheeks, stepped from Evan 
 to her mother. Not in eflrontery, but earnestly, and as the 
 only way of escaping from the position, she said: " I have 
 succeeded, Mama. He will take what I offer." 
 
 " And what's that, now ? " Old Tom inquired. 
 
 Rose turned to Evan. He bent and kissed her hand. 
 
 " Call it ' recompense' for the nonce," said Lady Jocelyn. 
 "Do you still hold to your original proposition, Tom ?" 
 
 " Every penny, my lady. I like the young fellow, and 
 she's a jolly little lass — if she means it:— she's a woman." 
 
 "True," said Lady Jocelyn. " Considering that fact, you 
 will oblige me by keeping the matter quiet." 
 
 " Does she want to try whether the tailor's a gentleman 
 still, my lady — eh ? " 
 
 " No. I fancy she will have to see whether a certain 
 nobleman may be one." 
 
 The Countess now joined them. Sir Franks had informed 
 her of her brother's last fine performance. After a short, 
 uneasy pause, she said, glancing at Evan : — 
 
 " You know his romantic nature. I can assure you he was 
 sincere ; and even if you could not accept, at least — " 
 
 " But we ha/ve accepted, Countess," said Rose. 
 
 " The estate ! " 
 
 " The estate. Countess. And what is more, to increase the 
 effect of his generosity, he has consented to take a recompense." 
 
 "Indeed! " exclaimed the Countess, directing a stony look 
 at her brother. " May I presume to ask what recompense?" 
 
 Rose shook her head. " Such a very poor one, Countess ! 
 He has no idea of relative value."
 
 A LOVERS' PARTING. 515 
 
 The Countess's great mind was just then running hot on 
 estates, and thousands, or she would not have played goose to 
 them, you may be sure. She believed that Evan had been 
 wheedled by Rose into the acceptance of a small sum of 
 money, in return for his egregious gift ! With an internal 
 groan, the outward aspect of which she had vast difficulty in 
 masking, she said: "You are right — he has no head. 
 Easily cajoled ! " 
 
 Old Tom sat down in a chair, and laughed outright. Lady 
 Jocelyn, in pity for the poor lady, who always amused her, 
 thought it time to put an end to the scene. 
 
 " I hope your brother will come to us in about a week," she 
 said. " May I expect the favour of your company as weU ? " 
 
 The Countess felt her dignity to be far superior as she re- 
 sponded : " Lady Jocelyn, when next I enjoy the gratifica- 
 tion of a visit to your hospitable mansion, I must know that 
 I am not at a disadvantage. I cannot consent to be twice 
 pulled down to my brother's level." 
 
 Evan's heart was too full of its dim young happiness to 
 speak, or care for words. The cold elegance of the Countess's 
 curtsey to Lady Jocelyn : her ladyship's kindly pressure of 
 his hand : Rose's stedfast look into his eyes : Old Tom's 
 smothered exclamation that he was not such a fool as he 
 seemed : all passed dream-like, and when he was left to the 
 fury of the Countess, he did not ask her to spare him, nor 
 did he defend himself. She bade adieu to him and their 
 mutual relationship that very day. But her star had not 
 forsaken her yet. Chancing to peep into the shop, to intrust 
 a commission to Mr. John Raikes, who was there doing 
 penance for his career as a gentleman, she heard Old Tom 
 and Andrew laughing, utterly unlike bankrupts. 
 
 ""Who'd have thought the women such fools! and the 
 Countess, too ! " 
 
 This was Andrew's voice. He chuckled as one emanci- 
 pated. The Countess had a short interview with him (before 
 she took her departure to join her husband, under the roof of 
 the Honourable Herbert Duifian), and Andrew chuckled no 
 more.
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 A TEAR LATEK, THE COUNTESS DE SALDAB, DE SANCOEVO TO 
 HEE SISTEE CAEOLINE. 
 
 "Rome. 
 
 "Let the post -mark be my reply to your letter received 
 through the Consulate, and most courteously delivered with 
 the Consul's compliments. We shall yet have an ambassador 
 at Eome — mark your Louisa's words. Yes, dearest ! I am 
 here, body and spirit ! I have at last found a haven, a 
 refuge, and let those who condemn me compare the peace of 
 their spirits with mine. You think that you have quite con- 
 quered the dreadfulness of our origin. My love, I smile at 
 you ! I hioiv it to be impossible for the Protestant heresy 
 to offer a shade of consolation. Earthly-born, it rather 
 encourages earthly distinctions. It is the sweet sovereign 
 Pontiff alone who gathers all in his arms, not excepting 
 tailors. Here, if they could know it, is their blessed comfort! 
 
 " Thank Harriet for her message. She need say nothing. 
 By refusing me her hospitality, when she must have known 
 that the house was as free of creditors as any foreigner under 
 the rank of Count is of soap, she drove me to Mr. Duffian. 
 Oh ! how I rejoice at her exceeding unkindness ! How 
 warmly I forgive her the unsisterly — to say the least — vindic- 
 tiveness of her unaccountable conduct ! Her sufferings will 
 one day be terrible. Good little Andrew supplies her place 
 to me. Why do you refuse his easily afforded bounty ? No 
 one need know of it. I tell you candidly, I take double, and 
 the small good punch of a body is only too delighted. But 
 then, / can be discreet, 
 
 " Oh ! the gentlemanliness of these infinitely maligned 
 Jesuits ! They remind me immensely of Sir Charles Grandison, 
 and those frontispiece pictures to the novels we read when
 
 A LETTER OF THE COUNTESS. 517 
 
 girls — I mean in manners and the ideas they impose — not in 
 dress or length of leg, of course. The same winning softness; 
 the same irresistible ascendancy over the female mind ! They 
 require virtue for two, I assure you, and so I told Silva, who 
 laughed. 
 
 " But the charms of confession, my dear ! I will talk of 
 Evan first. I have totally forgiven him. Attache to the 
 Naples embassy, sounds tol-lol. In such a position I can 
 rejoice to see him, for it permits me to acknowledge him. I 
 am not sure that, spiritually, Eose will be his most fitting 
 helpmate. However, it is done, and I did it, and there is no 
 more to be said. The behaviour of Lord Laxley in refusing 
 to surrender a young lady who declared that her heart was 
 with another, exceeds all /could have supposed. One of the 
 noble peers among his ancestors must have been a pig ! Oh I 
 the Roman nobility! Grace, refinement, intrigue, perfect 
 comprehension of your ideas, wishes — the meanest trifles ! 
 Here you have every worldly charm, and all crowned by 
 Religion ! This is my true delight. I feel at last that what- 
 soever I do, I cannot go far wrong while I am within hail 
 of my gentle priest. I never could feel so before. 
 
 "The idea of Mr. Parsley proposing for the beautiful widow 
 Strike ! It was indecent to do so so soon — widowed under 
 such circumstances ! But I dare say he was as disinterested 
 as a Protestant curate ever can be. Beauty is a good dowry 
 to bring a poor, lean, worldly curate of your Church, and he 
 knows that. Your bishops and arches are quite susceptible 
 to beautiful petitioners, and we know here how your livings 
 and benefices are dispensed. What do you intend to do? 
 Come to me ; come to the bosom of the old and the only true 
 Church, and I engage to marry you to a Roman prince the 
 very next morning or two. That is, if you have no ideas 
 about prosecuting a certain enterprise which / should not 
 abandon. In that case, stay. As Duchess of B., Mr. Duffian 
 says you would be cordially welcome to his Holiness, who 
 may see women. That absurd report is all nonsense. "We 
 do not kiss his toe, certainly, but we have privileges equally 
 enviable. Herbert is all charm. I confess he is a little
 
 518 EVAN HARRINGTON. 
 
 wearisome with his old ruins, and his Dante, the poet. He 
 is quite of my opinion, that Evan will never wash out the 
 trade stain on him until he comes over to the Church of 
 Rome. I adjure you, Caroline, to lay this clearly before our 
 dear brother. In fact, while he continues a Protestant, to me 
 he is a tailor. J3ut here Rose is the impediment. I know 
 her to be just one of those little dogged minds that are inca- 
 pable of receiving new impressions. Was it not evident in 
 the way she stuck to Evan after I had once brought them 
 together ? I am not at all astonished that Mr. Raikes should 
 have married her maid. It is a case of natural selection. But 
 it is amusing to think of him carrying on the old business in 
 193, and with credit! I suppose his parents are to be 
 pitied ; but what better is the creature fit for ? Mama 
 displeases me in consenting to act as housekeeper to old 
 Grumpus. I do not object to the fact, for it \% prospective ; 
 but she should have insisted on another place of resort than 
 Eallowfield. I do not agree with you in thinking her right 
 in refusing a second marriage. Her age does not shelter her 
 from scandal in your Protestant communities. 
 
 " I am every day expecting Harry Jocelyn to turn up. He 
 was rightly sent away, for to think of the folly Evan put 
 into his empty head ! No ; he shall have another wife, and 
 Protestantism shall be his forsaken mistress ! 
 
 "See how your Louy has given up the world and its 
 vanities ! You expected me to creep up to you contrite and 
 whimpering ? On the contrary, I never felt prouder. And 
 I am not going to live a lazy life, I can assure you. The 
 Church hath need of me! If only for the peace it hath given 
 me on one point, I am eternally bound to serve it. 
 
 "Postscript: I am persuaded of this; that it is utterly 
 impossible for a man to be a true gentleman who is not of the 
 true Church. What it is I cannot say; but it is as a convert 
 that I appreciate my husband. Love is made to me, dear, 
 for Catholics are human. The other day it was a question 
 whether a lady or a gentlemen should be compromised. It 
 required the grossest fib. The gentleman did not hesitate. 
 And why ? His priest was handy. Fancy Lord Laxley in such
 
 A LETTER OF THE COUNTESS. 619 
 
 a case. I shudder. This shows that your religion precludes 
 any possibility of the being the real gentleman, and whntcver 
 Evan may think of himself, or Rose think of him, I know 
 the thing. ^^ 
 
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