THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Harrison Wright
 
 A Fountain Sealed*
 
 Uniform -with this Volume 
 
 THE MASTER CRAFTSMAN 
 
 and 
 
 THE CITY OF REFUGE 
 
 By Sir Walter Besant
 
 . fc& 
 
 "SIR GEORGE LEU ME BY THE HAND." — Page l6j.
 
 
 A FOUNTAIN SEALED 
 
 a 1Rov>el 
 
 BY 
 
 SIR WALTER BESANT 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "The Master Craftsman/' "The City of Refuge," "All Sorts and 
 
 Conditions of Men," " Armorel of Lyonesse," etc. . 
 
 IWew JUorfc ant> Uonlion 
 Frederick A. Stokes Company 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 ' 
 
 Copyright, 1897 
 By Sir Walter Besant
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 Prologue :— Her Majesty's Own Words, 1 
 
 \. On the River Darenth, 24 
 
 II. A Miracle, 36 
 
 III. The Wicked World, 47 
 
 IV. The First Meeting. 58 
 V. The Next Day, 72 
 
 VI. "My Brother, Sir George," 84 
 
 VII. " The Opinions of a Gentleman, 96 
 
 VIII. The Christening of a Convert, 117 
 
 IX. King's Favourites, 123 
 
 X. Robert Storey, 132 
 
 XI. The Masquerade, 145 
 
 XII, Molly and the Corporal, 168 
 
 XIII. A River Party, 181 
 
 XTV. The Guard of Honour, 194 
 
 XV. The Palace and the Court, 203 
 
 XVI. "Invest it in my Business," 212 
 
 XVII. "Let him Tell me Himself," 223 
 
 XVIII. My Brother Joseph, 233 
 
 XIX. The "Tower of Brill," 244 
 
 XX. " There shall be no Obstacle," 264 
 
 XXI. To Dress the Bride, 276 
 
 XXII. God Save the King! 283 
 
 XXIH. Conclusion, 294
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 "Sir George led me by the hand," - Frontispiece 
 
 " Madam, I drink the health of that person," - - 22 
 
 "While my cousin played I sat beside her," 55 
 
 "So I stirred, laughing," ______ 94 
 
 "Many times as we walked with them, people gazed upon 
 
 us curiously," -------- 101 
 
 So he handed us into the cabin," - 183 
 
 " I could protect them against fifty," - 251 
 
 " George stood silent, hushed, awed, his brother kneeling 
 
 before him," -------- 291 
 
 11
 
 A FOUNTAIN SEALED. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Her Majesty's Own Words. 
 
 At noon, by the shadow of my sundial in the middle 
 of the grass ; by the striking of the clock in the tower 
 of Hackney Church ; by the disappearance of the sha- 
 dows from the side walls of my garden, which lie 
 exactly north and south ; I was taking the air upon 
 the lawn. It was, I remember, Saturday morning, 
 September 16th, in the year of grace 1780. The day, 
 though the season was already advanced into autumn, 
 was fair and warm ; the orchard was still pleasing to 
 the eye, those apples not yet gathered showing like 
 balls of vermilion and gold : the summer flowers were 
 nearly over, yet there were still some ; the sweet peas, 
 which had been that year more than commonly luxu- 
 riant, were now piled in a heap of brown seed-pods, 
 brown leaves, and grey stalks, yet there were blossoms 
 still among them : there were late roses still in bloom ; 
 the jessamine on the wall was still dotted with a few 
 white sweet-smelling blossoms — it is a scent which 
 makes the senses reel and the heart beat — it recalls old 
 memories. Wherefore I, who now for twenty years
 
 2 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 live wholly in the past, love that blossom. There were 
 hollyhocks, the flowers finished, all but one or two on 
 the very top of their drooping heads ; sunflowers gone 
 to seed weighing down the thick stalk ; trailing nas- 
 turtium ; flaunting marigolds, which refuse to believe 
 that winter is nigh ; mignonette lying all across the 
 path, its stalks breaking at a touch, its little delicate 
 flow'rets without scent yet still beautiful. The soft air 
 breathed a pleasing fragrance ; there was no breeze. 
 Such consolations* of lingering flowers and perfumed 
 air doth the autumn offer to those who are grow- 
 ing old and have retired from the world. With that 
 strange pride of man, which allows him to regard na- 
 ture as reflecting his own moods, as if the round earth, 
 and all that therein is, had nothing to do but to watch 
 his thoughts and to act in sympathy with them, I 
 chose to take this warm, sweet autumn morning as 
 granted especially to myself, and so sat on the garden 
 bench, or strolled across the lawn, and along the 
 walks, with a mind contented and grateful. The 
 humble-bee who rolled heavily about like some great 
 river barge on the flowing tide, reeling from flower 
 to flower, covered all over with white dust, boomed 
 its monotonous song for me: the honey-bee buzzed 
 louder — a note of accompaniment and solace — for me : 
 the yellow wasp fluttered about among the peaches — 
 for me to see his beauty : a thrush sat on a pear-tree, 
 singing, late as it was in the year — for me. What 
 they said, or sang, I know not, but they filled my 
 mind with peace and such happiness — that of resigna- 
 tion — as can befall a woman such as I am — lonely —
 
 Her Majesty's Own "Words. 3 
 
 bereaved — with no change before me — and with such 
 a past as mine to look back upon. 
 
 It was my own garden, lying at the back of my own 
 house : a large and richly furnished garden behind 
 the house of a gentlewoman. At the end of the gar- 
 den is a wicket-gate which I sometimes open in order 
 to gaze across the broad valley of the Lea. From the 
 elevation on which my house stands I can see below 
 me the whole expanse of low meadows called the 
 Hackney Flats, intersected with ditches here and 
 there. This morning a light mist rolled over them — 
 not the cold marshy exhalation which all through win- 
 ter lies upon them by day and night, but a gentle 
 vaporous veil through which I could discern the river 
 winding in the midst ; and beyond the river more 
 flats ; and beyond the flats the low green hills of 
 Essex, looking upon which, on such a day as this, 
 with the sunshine lying on them, the heart goes up to 
 heaven, and the distant hills remind one of the ever- 
 lasting rest to come when all tears shall be wiped 
 away and the memory of former sorrows will only 
 show as steps by which the soul hath climbed. 
 
 This morning I saw smoke mounting straight to the 
 sky from the bank of the river: 'twas an encampment 
 of the thievish people called gipsies ; only a week 
 before they had robbed my poultry-yard. Thus do 
 thoughts and memories of evil always mar the thing 
 most beautiful upon the earth. I shut the wicket and 
 locked it, and turned back to the house. 
 
 My own house : my own garden : all that is con- 
 tained in either is mine. I received them as a gift :
 
 4 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 and I have resolved upon telling you why I accepted 
 this gift and from whom it came. 
 
 Twenty years and more had I lived in this house 
 alone, save for Molly, my faithful woman. A long 
 time: a peaceful time: a time without pain or disease 
 of the body, without any anxiety of the mind except 
 for the natural sadness which can never leave a mind 
 so full of memories: yet from time to time I am dis- 
 turbed as I consider the place and remember that I 
 am the owner of all. Mine is the house: mine the 
 books, the furniture, the plate, the wardrobe, the 
 jewels, the garden, the orchard, the greenhouses — 
 everything mine. Yet what kind of price have I paid 
 for these things? Whenever I arrive at this question, 
 my heart beats and my cheek changes colour. If I 
 am in the house I make haste to open a desk and to 
 take from it two miniatures. The one represents him 
 who was once my lover ; the other, the fondest, faith- 
 fullest friend that ever woman had. These, too, were 
 mine, and they represented the price that I had paid. 
 You shall hear, if you will listen. Good name and 
 reputation I had given ; friends and relations I had 
 abandoned ; obscurity I had accepted — nay, embraced. 
 No anchoress woman in her cage was more lonely 
 than I, whom no one ever visited except one friend of 
 that undying past and the Rector of Hackney — a 
 good and worthy man who still, against his will, be- 
 lieves the worst that can be whispered of me and waits 
 for the time when I shall make confession. This was 
 a grievous price for a woman, then young, of good re- 
 pute, well connected, and of pious conversation. I
 
 Her Majesty's Own Words. 5 
 
 say that this was indeed a heavy price to pay. At 
 the time I counted not the cost. Indeed, I willingly 
 paid the price. Yes, and I would pay it all over 
 again : the loss of name and reputation ; the burden 
 of a shameful story : for nobody in the world who 
 once knew me or has heard tell of me — to be sure, 
 there are not many — but whispers evil things about 
 me and believes the worst. Their whispers do not 
 reach me here : the things that they believe do me no 
 harm. I am dead to scandal : I am dead to the 
 world : I live here, now a woman of forty and more : 
 I hear nothing that is said and know nothing that is 
 done. All my life lies in a brief season of three short 
 months. It is but a little time to make a life, but I 
 live it over and over and over again : I am never tired 
 of letting my memory dwell upon every day of that 
 short time. I desire no other Heaven than to live 
 that brief time over and over again, from the first even- 
 ing when those two, whose miniatures I keep, came 
 to my help, down to the last morning when we parted, 
 never to meet again. Oh ! Name, fame, rumour, 
 scandal, reputation — all — all — all would I freely give 
 over and over again and think them of no account for 
 the dear sake of that brief time and of that most god- 
 like lover ! 
 
 At the thought of that time, house and garden and 
 orchard and lawns, the breath of summer, the blue of 
 the sky, the sunshine, all vanish : they sink and fall 
 and disappear. I am once more in the parlour of the 
 house in St. James's Place, and my heart is beating 
 and my cheek is glowing because I know that he is
 
 6 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 coming and because he loves me. Yes — he loves me 
 — me, the first. To myself I dare to own and to avow 
 it : I confess it with a front of brass : I glory in the 
 memory of it : I am so proud of it that I can hardly 
 contain myself : on Sunday when I walk to church, 
 Molly — the faithful, fond Molly — who alone knows all 
 the truth, behind me, I dress myself in my best silk ; 
 I wear my gold chain ; I draw on my best silk gloves, 
 and I walk down the aisle to my pew with head erect 
 and proud bearing. The world knows not why ; but 
 Molly knows : Molly says to herself, as she carries 
 Bible and prayer-book, " Madam does well to bear her- 
 self proudly. Madam has been loved by " But 
 
 this we never say : we only think it. Some things 
 there are that must not even be whispered. 
 
 Now, as I was meditating this morning, not for the 
 first time, nor for the hundredth, upon these things, 
 there came running into the garden Molly herself — 
 and at the sight of her the past vanished again and the 
 present returned. 
 
 " Madam," she said, quickly, " there is my Lord's 
 carriage coming up the road : his runners are even 
 now standing at the door, but the carriage is stuck in 
 last year's ruts. They are lifting it over. Shall I lay 
 out your black silk frock? You have time." 
 
 There was but one noble Lord who ever came 
 to see me: there was no occasion to name him. 
 He was the one friend who remained to me of the 
 past. 
 
 " Molly," I said, " I will put on my grey silk, and, 
 if there is time, touch my hair before my Lord arrives.
 
 Her Majesty's Own Words. 7 
 
 And give the runners, while his carriage stands at the 
 door, a drink of ale and a piece of cheese." 
 
 So presently, in my grey silk and my gold chain and 
 lace gloves, I descended the stairs and found his Lord- 
 ship waiting for me in the best parlour. 
 
 Robert, Viscount de Lys, was at this time nearly 
 fifty years of age. Too great a devotion to the bottle 
 in his early manhood had produced in him symptoms 
 which threatened to cut short his earthly pilgrimage. 
 Indeed, he died about three months after this visit, 
 which was the last time that I saw him. The gout 
 flying about him, settled in his stomach, where it 
 killed him after inflicting terrible pains. As befits his 
 rank, he was buried in Westminster Abbey, where, I 
 am told (for I have not seen it) that a marble monu- 
 ment represents him as borne up to Heaven, with the 
 Star of the Bath upon his breast, by two angels. In- 
 deed, I hope that his soul has received the reward of 
 everlasting happiness, though it must be owned that 
 during life, like many other gentlemen of Quality, he 
 lived as if the means of grace were not intended for 
 persons of rank, and as if they had no occasion to 
 regard the next world with either fear or hope. Yet 
 a man of kindly heart and generous, and, except for 
 this vice of drinking, of a cleanly life. To me he was 
 always loyal and true. Wherefore, if the prayers of 
 the living could help the dead, Lord de Lys should 
 have my prayers, night and day. 
 
 On this day he hobbled, leaning on his gold-headed 
 cane more than was customary with him. His feet 
 were in soft shoes ; his fingers were swollen at the
 
 8 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 joints ; his face was red ; his eyes were bloodshot ; 
 his voice was husky. He was sitting in the window- 
 seat looking across my front garden planted with box 
 cut into shapes. 
 
 " Madam," he said, rising with difficulty, and kissing 
 my hand — he always had the finest manners in the 
 world — " I need not, I am sure, repeat that I am al- 
 ways your most obedient servant to command in any- 
 thing." 
 
 " Your Lordship," I replied, " is, which is much 
 better, always my kindest friend." Compliments 
 mean little, yet show friendliness. For instance, when 
 one gazes upon a man who is the mere pitiful wreck of 
 what he once was ; when one remembers what he 
 once was — how tall and gallant and comely ; and when 
 one tells that man that he looks well but for the touch 
 of gout in his feet — which, indeed, is a good sign, for 
 gout is better out than in — why, one means nothing 
 but the assurance of friendly interest. Such compli- 
 ments passed, we sat down, and came at once to the 
 business in hand. 
 
 " Madam," he said, " I have in my possession — they 
 have been lent to me by the person to whom they are 
 addressed for the express purpose of showing them 
 to you — certain letters which give me a pretext for 
 making this visit." 
 
 " Then am I vastly obliged to the letters. They 
 concern me, I may presume, in some way or other." 
 
 "They will certainly interest you. You shall judge 
 for yourself how they concern yourself." 
 
 "What letters can they be? You awaken my curi- 
 osity, my Lord."
 
 Her Majesty's Own Words. 
 
 " They are written by a certain Person — whom you 
 once knew — to Lord North." 
 
 " Oh ! But . . . What has Lord North to do with 
 me? Why does that Person write to Lord North 
 about me? " 
 
 " Lord North has nothing to do with you. He 
 does not even know of your existence." 
 
 "Then, how can they concern me? My Lord, do 
 not without reason remind me that the world is cruel 
 and censorious and believes the worst." 
 
 " I do not seek to do so, Madam, I assure you. 
 Indeed, you have so often informed me of the true 
 relations — I mean, of the true friendship once exist- 
 ing between yourself and a certain Person — that I 
 thought you would like to see these letters, which, in 
 fact, corroborate your information." 
 
 " If you wish me to read them I will do so, though 
 I do not desire. I had thought that nothing would 
 ever occur which would bring me back to the world 
 again — or bring the world to me." 
 
 " Believe me, dear Madam, I would not willingly 
 disturb your rest, since it is your pleasure to live 
 buried in this solitude. But these letters you must, 
 indeed, read, if only for your own satisfaction." 
 
 " But, my Lord, once more : how does Lord North 
 know anything about me?" 
 
 " I know not. I am sure that he knows nothing 
 definite about you. I am the only person now living 
 who knows anything about the matter." 
 
 " Are you quite sure that you know the story, my 
 Lord?"
 
 to A Fountain Sealed* 
 
 " Can any man know more of a woman than she 
 chooses to tell ? " 
 
 " I am still waiting to know what Lord North 
 thinks or has heard." 
 
 " There are rumours — quite uncertain and vague — 
 about the early life of the Person aforesaid : I sup- 
 pose, because alone among those of his rank he hath 
 led, and still doth lead, an unspotted life. People, as 
 a rule, do not like those in very high places to be vir- 
 tuous : every Prince must needs commit the common 
 sins in order to win the love of the multitude : his 
 faults, I suppose, bring him down to the common 
 level. Very well, these rumours cling to a certain 
 house in St. James's Place, and to a certain lady who 
 once lived there." 
 
 " The rumour is, of course, the worst that can be 
 invented? " 
 
 " It varies. The lady ran away with him : the 
 lady married him secretly — it varies according to the 
 imagination or the inventive faculty of the person 
 handing it on : it grows : it becomes embellished : 
 your name is known : your religion is known : nothing 
 else is certain. People turn into St. James's Place 
 when they wish to calumniate that person, and point 
 to the house and tell their story." 
 
 " Nothing matters to me now, since I am retired 
 from the world." 
 
 " Lord North, therefore, called upon me. He said 
 to me, ' Rumour credits you with knowing something 
 of certain passages which formerly happened in the 
 life of — this Person.' I replied that it was true that
 
 Her Majesty's Own Words. n 
 
 accident had placed me in possession of facts which 
 could not be published." 
 
 " In a word, my Lord, you allowed Lord North to 
 believe that these disgraceful rumours were true," I 
 replied, but would say no more, thinking of the price 
 I had paid for this house. 
 
 " Nothing of the kind, dear Madam, I assure you. 
 He wished me to confess that these rumours were 
 true, but I refused. He then lugged out these letters 
 and asked me to read them. ' If,' he said, 'any other 
 person knows the facts of the case, let that person also 
 read the letters. He, or she, will understand that 
 now, if ever, the most absolute silence must be ob- 
 served.' " 
 
 " But if there is nothing that need be concealed ? " 
 
 " So far as I can see, the whole world may read the 
 letters. If," he added, "any money were wanted for 
 the purchase of other letters " 
 
 " Do not insult me, my Lord." 
 
 " Pardon me, Madam. I do but repeat what he 
 said. 
 
 " The letters, you tell me, come from — a certain 
 Person. Does that Person know of this message of 
 yours ? " 
 
 " I believe not. I should say, not. My own ex- 
 istence is probably forgotten by that Person. He de- 
 sires, apparently, to bury in oblivion a certain passage 
 in his life. Would he, then, be thought more — or less 
 —than Man ? " 
 
 " He is more than Man," I replied. "The ordinary 
 man cannot contemplate such virtues as were hers.
 
 i2 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 Now, my Lord, it is idle to talk about secrecy. I, who 
 might have enjoyed notoriety at least, which is a kind 
 of fame, have accepted obscurity and silence. Is it 
 likely that I am going to attempt notoriety after 
 twenty years and more? As for money — you know 
 why I took certain gifts, once and for all, though I 
 had no need of any gifts, or any help whatever in that 
 way." 
 
 " Madam," — he bowed again — " your conduct has 
 been always full of dignity, and worthy of that pas- 
 sion which was once lavished upon you." 
 
 " Then," I said, " without more words, let me see 
 these letters." 
 
 He took out of his pocket a book in which lay two 
 letters. " You will, I believe," he said, " recognise 
 the handwriting." 
 
 I did. I had one letter — only one — in the same 
 handwriting, which was little changed. He opened 
 and gave me one of the letters. It had reference to 
 the creation of a separate establishment for the writer's 
 eldest son. The following passage halfway down 
 caught my eyes : " I thank Heaven that my morals 
 and course of life have but little resembled those pre- 
 valent in the present age : and certainly of all the ob- 
 jects of this life, the one I have most at heart is to 
 form my children that they may become useful ex- 
 amples and worthy of imitation." 
 
 " Well," I said, " the sentiment is worthy of the 
 writer." 
 
 " And his gratitude is, no doubt, based on a sound 
 and solid foundation."
 
 Her Majesty's Own Words. 13 
 
 " Assuredly," I replied. " Is this all you have to 
 show me ? " 
 
 " There is the other letter," he said, handing it to 
 me with curiosity in his eyes. 
 
 It was a letter of a very private character. I felt 
 that I had no right to be reading it : the letter was 
 not meant for the eyes of any one but Lord North. 
 At the end of it was this passage : " I am happy at 
 being able to say that I never was personally engaged 
 in such a transaction, which makes me feel this busi- 
 ness the stronger." 
 
 " Such a transaction," his Lordship repeated. " He 
 means an amour — a pre-nuptial amour." 
 
 " Not at all. It means that his son has become 
 involved in some love affair of a low and disgraceful 
 kind : that he has now, in order to avoid the exposure 
 which the disgraceful woman threatens, to buy back 
 letters. This Person writes that he has no such odious 
 business on his conscience : that he has never written 
 letters which the whole world might not read : that 
 there is no creature living who either could or would 
 threaten him. That is the meaning, my Lord, of this 
 passage." 
 
 " It seems to me, rather, as if his memory was play- 
 ing him false. Such a transaction. Has he, then, for- 
 gotten everything?" 
 
 " Go on, my Lord." But my cheek burned. 
 
 " Nay ! All I would say is that at the present 
 juncture it is highly important that the — the — passage 
 I referred to should not be whispered about. The 
 effect might be most mischievous. It must not even
 
 14 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 be known that the writer of this letter was ever en- 
 gaged in any love affair at all before his marriage, not 
 even a simple and platonic affair of conversation only, 
 and, you will allow me to observe, the censorious 
 might ask why a mere friendship was rewarded by a 
 comfortable allowance in the country." 
 
 " One moment, my Lord," I interrupted him. 
 " This house and the annuity on which I live were not 
 given me by the writer of this letter. Let me assure 
 you quite seriously upon this point. If you have 
 thought otherwise, pray think so no longer." 
 
 " Indeed," he said thoughtfully. " Then I know 
 
 not who But, dear Madam, why should I give you 
 
 pain ? I have shown you the letters. I have told you 
 what Lord North said. I have nothing to add." 
 
 " About secrecy ; who is there left to talk about 
 the affair ? You, my Lord, will never speak about it 
 to any one. His brother Edward died — alas ! — seven 
 years after it. Corporal Bates was killed in action. 
 Molly doesn't talk ; my cousin Isabel is dead ; Mr. 
 Robert Storey is dead : he died a bankrupt, poor 
 wretch ! in the Fleet. The Doctor, old Mr. Mynster- 
 chamber, went abroad, I believe, and must now be 
 dead. Mrs. Bates, the widow, may know something, 
 but very little " 
 
 " Dear Madam, there remain only you and I and 
 Molly. Yet this Mrs. Bates — it may be that through 
 her the rumours have spread. It is strange how 
 rumours arise and grow and are spread around. 
 Well, we cannot help rumours and whispers : we can- 
 not silence the world. It is enough for me to assure
 
 Her Majesty's Own Words. 15 
 
 Lord North that there is no danger of anything worse 
 than a whisper ; or more dangerous than scandalous 
 gossip. There will be no proof that the son is only 
 treading in the footprints of his father. Let us now, 
 dear Madam, talk of things more pleasant and, to me, 
 more interesting than of rumours which attack your 
 name." 
 
 We talked long and earnestly : there was much to 
 recall — the treachery of the Doctor, the good fortune 
 of the Corporal, the evening of the masquerade, and 
 many, many other things of which he knew a little 
 and thought he knew a great deal. We sat talking 
 together in my best parlour for three or four hours. 
 
 " Nancy," he said — for, having taken a glass or two 
 while we talked, he had gone back to the past, when 
 it was Fair Nancy, or Cruel Nancy or Conquering 
 Nancy, or Heartless Nancy, or Nancy the Toast, or 
 any other compliment that he might light upon, in a 
 word — his imagination was inflamed to some degree 
 — " Nancy, whenever I remember that happy time 
 when a bottle — nay, three bottles — brought nothing 
 worse in the morning than an aching head, and when 
 I gazed daily upon thy charms — ah ! sweet Nancy " — 
 he laid his hand upon mine, but a twinge of the gout 
 caused him to draw it back swiftly — " I say — devil 
 take this gout ! — that whenever I think of that time it 
 is your heavenly face that still I see." 
 
 " Through the bottles, my Lord ? " 
 
 "Perhaps." He sighed. "We could see through 
 half-a-dozen bottles in those days. Thy face, Madam 
 Nancy, was lovely then, and 'tis, I swear, lovely still.
 
 1 6 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 But in those days, for the angelic sweetness and tender- 
 ness of it, I say that it had no equal." 
 
 " Your Lordship is so good as to pay me compli- 
 ments." 
 
 " They are the truth, not compliments at all. And 
 this being the case, even though you should a thou- 
 sand times affirm the contrary, out of your constancy 
 and fidelity, I will never believe that a certain Person 
 did not think so as well. Come, Nancy, we are old 
 friends : I am discretion itself : it is an old story : tell 
 me : was this person a stock and a stone? " 
 
 " Certainly he was neither stock nor stone. Yet, 
 my Lord, the words written in these letters are the 
 truth." 
 
 " Ta-ra-ra ! Ta-ra-ra ! " said his Lordship. " 'Twas 
 ever the most obstinate piece — as well as the loveli- 
 est." 
 
 His Lordship, I know very well, always took plea- 
 sure in my society. On this occasion — though he kept 
 his horses standing in the road and his people waiting 
 for him — though as to that he paid no heed — he re- 
 mained talking with me, I say, for nearly four hours. 
 It pleases me now to think with what kindness and re- 
 membrance he spoke of the past which he had in a 
 measure shared. Yet, for all I could say, I perceived 
 that he could not believe one word as to my relations 
 with the Person above referred to. By this time I 
 was accustomed to this disbelief which at the outset 
 cut me to the soul. What did I say above? The 
 price was name and fame and reputation — all the 
 things that a woman most highly prizes. And I had
 
 Her Majesty's Own Words. 17 
 
 paid that price. Not one word did my Lord believe 
 — affirm it as I might — as to the truth of those two 
 letters. He laughed : he put it off with a smile, with 
 the uplifting of his eyebrows, with a gentle inclina- 
 tion of his head, with the wave of his hand, with a 
 " Nay, Madam, since you say so," with a pinch of 
 snuff. 
 
 " Well," said I, seized with a sudden thought, " doth 
 not Heaven itself send some thoughts, while the Devil 
 if we admit him into the chambers of Imagery, as the 
 Prophet calls them, sends others ? Advise me, my 
 Lord. I am now past forty " 
 
 " For most women it is a great age. You are still 
 young, however. At forty I already hobbled : I am 
 now nearly fifty, with both feet hanging over the 
 grave. But for my advice. How can I advise thee, 
 Nancy ? " 
 
 " I know not what length of days may remain to 
 me. But I think that perhaps some part of the al- 
 lotted space might be spent in dissipating whispers or 
 contradicting scandals which may be flying around 
 concerning this Person." 
 
 " For the moment it would, perhaps, be best to ob- 
 serve silence." 
 
 " Yet you say that there are whispers " 
 
 " Undoubtedly there are. When a certain Person 
 is observed, or is rumoured — his face was not abso- 
 lutely unknown in the neighbourhood of St. James's — 
 to visit a certain house : when it is ascertained that a 
 certain lady of that name really lived there -" 
 
 '•'Add, if you please, that the_ lady was always ac-
 
 18 A Fountain Sealed* 
 
 companied by another lady ; and the Person was al- 
 ways accompanied by his brother " 
 
 " These, observe, are facts which the world does 
 not know. Let me add that when this lady disap- 
 pears suddenly : when no one, not even her own 
 friends, know where she is . . . then ..." He took 
 a pinch of snuff and shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Granted the whispers : would it not suffice if I 
 wrote down exactly the truth as it happened — for the 
 sake of the reputation of the Person concerned?" 
 
 " Why," he replied, " the world would be very much 
 interested : the booksellers would be enriched : the 
 Person concerned would not be grateful : the lady 
 would not be cleared : and the whispers would go on." 
 
 " Still — it is surely best always to have the truth 
 told." 
 
 " No one, certainly, would tell it so well as you, 
 dear lady. Besides," he laughed, " what woman could 
 desire a more pleasing task than to relate in her own 
 words the history of her own amours?" 
 
 The words seemed, at the time, mocking and heart- 
 less. Lord de Lys sometimes spoke in this light and 
 satirical voice : he meant, I thought, that a woman 
 could thus hide what she wished, and reveal what 
 would set her in a better light. However, they were 
 wise words as I now understand. No one, sure, knows 
 the heart of a woman so well as herself. 
 
 " My Lord," I replied, " pleasing or not, I am re- 
 solved " — the resolution was formed at that moment 
 only — " to commit to writing a full and complete his- 
 tory of an affair concerning which the world knows
 
 Her Majesty's Own Words. 19 
 
 nothing — not for the clearing of my own reputation, 
 of which I care nothing, for in this secluded spot noth- 
 ing reaches me : but for the reputation of another." 
 
 " Well, Nancy, I think the world will like its own 
 version best. Tell the truth, dear woman, by all 
 means ; and the world will fall in love with thee : 
 and, what is more, will remain in love with thee, long 
 after thou art laid in Hackney Churchyard. Tell the 
 truth : nothing could possibly do more to raise the 
 soul of a young man than to love the idea and the 
 presentment of such a woman as thyself." 
 
 "Not compliments, my Lord; but as much advice 
 as you please." 
 
 " Then, Nancy, my advice is this. If you write 
 about love, talk little of other matters. Let your 
 discourse be always of love. Speak not of affairs of 
 State : keep the lover always before your readers. 
 Let them have the voice of love and see the eyes of 
 love. Do not dwell at length upon your previous 
 history or your later history, or anything except what 
 is necessary to show how he fell in love with you, 
 and why. Tell the world who you were and what 
 you were, and then let the Tragedy — or the Comedy — 
 begin. When the love tale is ended, close the vol- 
 ume : draw a line : write 'Finis' below — walk off the 
 stage, and do not let your lover lag behind." 
 
 This seemed sensible advice. As my story con- 
 cerns one person mostly, I must write about little 
 but what concerned him. 
 
 " I will try to remember your advice. Meantime, 
 my Lord, here is something for your own ears. You
 
 20 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 spoke about the fact of a certain lady retiring into 
 obscurity in affluence. I know, of course, what was 
 meant ; I have known all along that such a thing 
 would be meant.. This house is mine, and it was 
 given to me. I have lived in it since November, 1760. 
 It was given to me at my own request. On the even- 
 ing of the day when we parted — on October the 25th, 
 1760, his brother Edward came to see me." 
 
 " I met him walking across St. James's Place, I re- 
 member." 
 
 "He came to me. He remained with me alone for 
 some time : he spoke most tenderly and sorrowfully : 
 he took all the blame upon himself: he confessed that 
 he ought to have told me all at the outset : he asked 
 what I proposed to do : he agreed that I could not go 
 home to live with my brother, which would be worse 
 than anything : he promised that his own lawyers 
 should make him give up my fortune : then, with a 
 noble generosity, he offered to give me what I asked 
 of him — a house in the country, so that I could always 
 feel that I belonged still, and all my life should belong, 
 to his brother and to him." 
 
 " Madam," said Lord de Lys, "upon my word, you 
 amaze me. For twenty years I have believed that 
 this house, with an annuity, was given to you by that 
 Person." 
 
 " This is the literal truth. I knew what would be 
 said and thought by those who knew some of the cir- 
 cumstances of the case. But I have told you the lit- 
 eral truth. More : this most generous of men, this fond 
 and faithful friend, came often tp see me until he left
 
 Her Majesty's Own Words. 21 
 
 the country on his last voyage, from which he was 
 nevermore to return. No one can ever know with 
 what a truly brotherly love he regarded me, and how 
 he lamented with me the bitterness of fate which 
 dashed from my lips the cup which was just prepared 
 for me. My Lord, the world knows not what a heart 
 of gold was lost when Edward — I still must call him 
 by his Christian name — when my brother — yes, my 
 brother — Edward died." 
 
 " Nancy, tell me no more. Why should I revive 
 the tears of the past ? Well — give me a sailor — should 
 every woman say : 'tis only a sailor who does the 
 truly generous things." 
 
 It was then four o'clock. Molly opened the door 
 to tell me that dinner was served. 
 
 " My Lord, I have for dinner a simple breast of veal 
 roasted, stuffed. Molly is a plain cook, but I warrant 
 the roast wholesome and good. There will also be 
 some sweet-pudding or fruit-pie : and I can give you a 
 bottle of good wine, I believe, if you will honour me 
 with your company at my humble meal." 
 
 He condescended to dine with me. His appetite, as 
 I feared, was not good : indeed, he could eat but little : 
 yet he complimented Molly on her stuffing, and he 
 professed to find the pudding delicious. 
 
 After dinner Molly placed a bottle of port on the 
 table. My Lord took it up with affectionate, though 
 swollen fingers. 
 
 " I have loved thee too well," he said, addressing 
 the bottle, not Molly. " But for the warmth — nay — 
 the ardour of my passion for this ruby liquid wherein
 
 22 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 I found man's chief felicity, I might now be kneeling 
 at sweet Nancy's feet. Thou hast rewarded me, un- 
 grateful divinity, with ten thousand red-hot needles. 
 Nevertheless, as an invalid, a veteran — a discharged 
 soldier — I must still worship." He filled two glasses. 
 " Madam," he said, " I will drink to you. Strange it 
 is — oh ! wondrous strange ! " he gazed upon me with 
 admiring eyes — " we have been talking over the past 
 — and behold ! — it is a miracle ! — your former face has 
 come back to you. Memory is a witch. Your face, 
 divine Nancy, is now once more as young: your eyes 
 are as clear: your cheek is as soft — oh! the peach 
 blossom on that cheek : as twenty years ago, when 
 that young — Person — paid to all those charms the 
 adoration of a maiden heart. Nancy — a vos beaux 
 yeux I Could he again behold thee — could he get 
 rid " 
 
 " My Lord ! you must not, indeed, talk in this 
 strain. It is unbecoming for one of your station, and 
 it afflicts me to hear such discourse. In this house 
 we take one glass of wine a day — Molly and I — and 
 we drink it to the health and safety of that certain 
 Person." 
 
 He bowed. He gave me a glass and poured out 
 one for Molly, who stood beside my high-backed arm- 
 chair. 
 
 I stood up, glass in hand. " I drink," I said, " or 
 rather, I pray, for the continued health, happiness, 
 and safety of the noblest man in these three King- 
 doms." 
 
 Molly fell upon her knees. " By your leave,
 
 H 1 
 
 o 
 
 en 
 W 
 
 H 
 
 Pa 
 O 
 
 < 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 x 
 
 H 
 
 z 
 2 
 
 Q 
 

 
 Her Majesty's Own Words. 23 
 
 Madam," she said, " I drink to the health and happi- 
 ness of your friend." These words we exchanged in 
 fact every day after dinner. To me, if I may say so 
 in all respect, they were a kind of daily Sacrament. 
 
 His Lordship rose with some difficulty. " Nancy," 
 he said, " your heart is all constancy and fidelity. It 
 moves me. ... I wonder if any man born of an 
 earthly mother was ever worth a heart so true and 
 tender. Madam, I drink the health of that Person — 
 once your lover — His Majesty the King ! "
 
 CHAPTER L 
 On the River Darenth. 
 
 If I shut my eyes and let my memory go back to 
 early days I see a substantial square house : in the 
 front stand two goodly cedars sweeping the lawn : a 
 brick wall shuts out the house from the high road: 
 there are two gates with iron railings of fine workman- 
 ship : from the gates one can see a large mass of low 
 buildings — they are paper-mills, belonging to a Quaker 
 named Samuel Walden : the river Darenth flows past 
 the mills : about a mile away there stands the town 
 of Dartford. 
 
 The house is cold within and gloomy : it seems a 
 house which never gets any sunshine, yet the rooms 
 are lofty and the windows are high and broad ; the 
 furniture is massive and costly : yet, for the bareness 
 of the walls and the absence of ornament, the place 
 might pass for a prison. 
 
 At the back of the house is a most beautiful gar- 
 den, broad, well cultivated, full of everything that an 
 English garden can yield. I see a child running about 
 that garden under the shade of trees and across sunny 
 lawns. The place is lonely and silent, save for the 
 birds in the trees. Sometimes there flits across the 
 grass a pale drooping figure in the grey Quaker dress
 
 On the Rivet Darenth. 25 
 
 and white cap : sometimes she is sitting in the shade ; 
 sometimes she is looking at the child ; but mostly she 
 is wrapped in meditation. It is the child's mother, 
 who is like an anchoress of old, inasmuch as she spends 
 most of her life in considering the Divine Scheme 
 of Redemption : sh^ speaks little at any time, even 
 at meeting : in the Roman Church she would be a 
 saint, and work miracles : in the English Communion 
 she would be accounted a holy woman. In my recol- 
 lection I always see her thus, a silent ghost medita- 
 ting in the garden. Also in my memory summer and 
 (sunshine always remain ; rain and cold have vanished. 
 Always I see the fruit turning from green to gold : 
 always I breathe the fragrance of the flowers : always 
 the air is soft and warm : there is always blue sky : 
 there are always shadows on the lawn, and they slowly 
 turn, so that I know the time by their position as well 
 as by the sundial in the middle of the grass. I can 
 always see the honey-bees staggering under the weight 
 of their burdens ; the flowers are always in blossom : I 
 can see them still — roses, lilies, sunflowers, hollyhocks, 
 love-lies-bleeding, ragged robin, ivy's love, lavender, 
 pansy, clove, pink, convolvulus, stocks, sweet-william 
 1 — all that you may find in any garden. 
 
 The child has no playmates, no toys or dolls, she 
 knows only such games as her imagination has in- 
 vented for her. She has never heard any of the fool- 
 ish stories of fairies, lovely damsels, brave lads, and 
 happy lovers which are told to children of the world, 
 whereby their thoughts are turned to things of the 
 world : she has read no book except portions of the
 
 26 A Fountain Sealed* 
 
 Bible, because the godly books on the shelf have no 
 attraction for her. 
 
 The child has never heard the sound of music : in 
 the house there was no fond tinkling of the guitar, no 
 uplifting of the voice with a love ditty. 
 
 The child has never seen a picture or a drawing 
 of any kind. There were no pictures in the house 
 at all — not a single representation of even a tree 
 or a flower, to say nothing of man, woman, or 
 child. 
 
 The child has never heard the sound of laughter — 
 no one in that house ever laughed. The Society of 
 Friends, indeed, have for the most part forgotten how 
 to laugh. Nothing to them is ridiculous ; certainly 
 not the sight of a man suddenly suffering pain, which 
 always excites mirth in the mind bucolic ; nor the 
 sight of a man in bewilderment, consternation, or 
 amazement, which makes the littler sort to laugh. It 
 was a grave household even for one of that Society. 
 The master of the house was always serious and full 
 of thought, divided between his religion and his af- 
 fairs : the mistress was, as I have said, greatly oc- 
 cupied in religious meditation. 
 
 On Sundays in the silent Meeting-house, while the 
 clock ticked and the members sat with closed eyes, 
 meditating and waiting to be moved, the child looked 
 through an open door upon a green enclosure, which 
 was the burial ground. There were no head-stones or 
 altar tombs, or monuments of any kind. The memory 
 of the dead was not preserved : except for two small 
 slabs, each containing initials, there was nothing to
 
 On the River Darenth. 27 
 
 tell who slept beneath : they were godly people who 
 lived and died, and went to Heaven. What were 
 they doing in Heaven? the child asked. Sitting apart 
 in a Meeting-house, doubtless, out of sight or hearing 
 of the golden harps. The child wanted no tombstones 
 to know the people who lay in the ground : they were 
 sitting around her in the Meeting-house: the ghosts 
 of the dead — though she knew nothing about ghosts 
 — sat with the living and waited for the Divine prompt- 
 ing of the Word. 
 
 Among such people, the child of such people, did 
 this child grow up. Picture to yourself what kind of 
 child she would become! 
 
 Often in the winter evenings it pleases me to recall 
 these old days. There were many things which as a 
 child I neither observed nor understood — such, for in- 
 stance, as the stiffness and wooden carriage of both 
 men and women. To me, after more than twenty 
 years' knowledge of the world, I still contrast the 
 courtesy of a wellbred man ; the graceful movement 
 of a gentlewoman ; the unconscious ease with which 
 young people of the world move and speak ; with the 
 stiffness which I used to consider part of our holy call- 
 ing. I blush to remember how my own brother 
 moved with the constraint of a wooden image : how he 
 spoke with harsh voice ignorant of music or of modu- 
 lation : how he said things uncouth because he en- 
 joyed no softening influence of society to teach him 
 civility. 
 
 As for knowledge of the outer world I only knew 
 that it was the freehold property of the devil, the men
 
 2? A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 and women in it being merely his tenants. Surely 
 this was a most wicked thing to believe. 
 
 Yet let me not be harsh : let me still remember, 
 honour, and obey the Fifth Commandment. There 
 are no people more charitable than the Friends. My 
 father's hand was always extended in charity to the 
 unhappy ; my mother was always making and contriv- 
 ing for the poor. 
 
 When these two died I, being about fifteen, was left 
 alone save for my brother Joseph, my guardian. 
 
 My brother was twelve years older than myself, 
 therefore already a man, and on that account alone, 
 perhaps, not a companion for a young girl. For other 
 reasons, however, he could not become a companion. 
 It would not be enough to say of Joseph that no one 
 ever saw him smile, because no one in the house was 
 expected to smile, not to speak of laughing — how can 
 one laugh when one cannot forget the small number 
 of the Elect? Of Joseph it might be said that he 
 never even pretended to be cheerful. He knew not 
 the meaning of youthful sallies, of youthful gaieties, 
 of youthful longings : indeed, there was not much 
 scope for youthful sallies in our house. On one ac- 
 count his friends were able to be proud of him : he 
 was perfectly and literally acquainted with certain 
 portions of Holy Writ, and that above any of his fel- 
 lows — namely, those passages in St. Paul's Epistles 
 which support the doctrine to which Joseph clung as 
 to the very small number of the Elect. Out of those 
 passages he sucked abundant matter for the religious 
 controversies in which he delighted. He spoke often
 
 On the River Darenth. 29 
 
 at meeting, and if he failed to persuade he succeeded 
 in terrifying. How can mortal presume so to limit 
 and narrow the mercy of the Most High? 
 
 There was another point about Joseph which caused 
 him to be respected by, if not endeared to, many of 
 his brethren — namely, that he proved himself from the 
 very outset a most prudent, far-seeing, keen man of 
 business. Of course, if a young man has to enter 
 upon trade it is well that he should make himself 
 an accomplished tradesman. But it is not good 
 for a man to think about nothing except trade and re- 
 ligion. 
 
 In appearance Joseph was always stern, gloomy, 
 and forbidding : his hair was black ; he had bushy 
 black eyebrows and strong black eyes ; he was tall 
 and thin ; he carried himself bolt upright and walked 
 with a gold-headed stick. He had no private friends, 
 such as most young men have : nor did he desire the 
 company of any, but if company came he discoursed 
 upon things religious. He showed no inclination to- 
 wards the other sex, but held that woman must be in 
 all things submissive to man. In the evening he sat 
 apart, with the ledgers and account-books of the mills 
 spread out before him, and he would groan in anguish 
 if he discovered that the profit account was less than 
 he hoped. He read no books ; he took no interest in 
 the political situation of his country : he never knew, 
 or cared, whether the State which protected him and 
 allowed him to become rich was at peace or at war, 
 whether it was triumphant or humiliated. He was 
 what is called a gross feeder, sitting down to meat
 
 30 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 with eagerness ; and he drank largely, especially of 
 the wine called Madeira. Yet he was never fuddled 
 or the worse for wine : indeed I now remember that 
 the more Madeira he took the more resolute he be- 
 came still more to diminish the number of the Elect, 
 insomuch that after the second bottle there would re- 
 main nothing but a poor remnant. 
 
 Some children there are who are born for happiness, 
 some whose nature cannot bear happiness. If the 
 former do not obtain what they naturally crave after, 
 they become afflicted in some way. I think, nay, I 
 am sure, that I was one of those who were born for 
 happiness : as I grew out of childhood, and found no 
 happiness, but only a perpetual gloom with the neces- 
 sity of thinking continually about the safety of my 
 soul, there fell upon me a dreadful sickness of the 
 brain. It came to me when I was in my twenty-first 
 year. Even to think of that sickness fills my mind, 
 after more than twenty years, with horror unspeak- 
 able. I fall to trembling when I remember that sick- 
 ness. It was a despondency which attacked me, first, 
 as to things spiritual : I was convinced that my soul 
 was lost. Then a strange heaviness fell upon me. I 
 cared for none of my former amusements or occupa- 
 tions : neither for the flowers in the garden ; nor for 
 the singing of the birds ; nor for reading in the Bible. 
 I wished not to eat ; I could not carry on any house- 
 wifery. 
 
 In plain words, I suffered from melancholia. Some 
 physicians call it hysteria, I believe. Whatever its 
 name, those were its symptoms,
 
 On the River Darenth. 31 
 
 The further symptoms of my disorder, then, were, 
 first a strange disinclination to undertake anything : 
 the mind refused to follow a simple argument: I 
 wandered about alone, doing nothing : I would burst 
 into tears without a cause: I lay awake at night: I 
 had swoons and beating of the heart. Further, it 
 vexed me that Molly, my maid, would try to divert 
 me with strange gifts — such things as sailors bring 
 from foreign ports : tears would gather in her eyes 
 while she watched me. I would fly to the garden, 
 then in the beauty of spring, yet found no comfort 
 there: I would be alone, but solitude made me still 
 more wretched : I would compose my mind and re- 
 duce my wandering thoughts to order, but could not. 
 There is no misery — believe me — so great as to find 
 that you have lost control over the mind. 
 
 In the morning I awoke with apprehensions — I 
 knew not why. The day before me became a burden 
 too heavy to be borne : the night behind me was a 
 wilderness of unbidden thoughts and uncalled voices. 
 In one word, I was possessed, I say, with the demon 
 of melancholy, which is to the mind what leprosy is 
 to the body if it be not expelled. 
 
 Then terrible thoughts and temptations entered 
 my head — can the soul be destroyed while the mind 
 is in this condition of slavery? I thought that the 
 only way out of this wretchedness was death : and 
 then since it had not pleased the Lord to call me I 
 must take the matter into my own hands. 
 
 There was a deep black pond in the field beyond 
 the garden : a willow hung over it : steep banks su.r-
 
 3 2 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 rounded it. Whenever the temptation of death was 
 put into my mind — I say put into my mind because 
 of my own will could I never think of such a thing — 
 I remembered this pond. 
 
 One morning — the birds were singing and the gar- 
 den was full of flowers and the orchard was gay with 
 blossoms — I was made to think of this place. I can- 
 not call it my own action : I was dragged — I cannot 
 acknowledge that I walked — I say that I was dragged 
 by invisible hands — in the direction of the pond. My 
 heart beat ; I was agitated by the horror of the thing 
 which yet I could not escape. I reached the bank : I 
 stood over the dark waters : a moment more and I 
 should have fallen in — say, rather, I should have been 
 dragged in. Already I felt the bitterness of death : I 
 tried to pray, but could not : I felt the despair of the 
 soul that is lost — when suddenly I was pulled back. 
 'Twas my maid Molly who pulled me back: and at 
 sight of my face, which was wan and white, she cried 
 out, " Oh ! Nancy ! Nancy ! " and fell on her knees 
 clasping her hands and weeping. 
 
 After that she attended upon me day and night : 
 I was not left to myself — but the temptation did not 
 return ; the violence of the disorder left me. Yet 
 I was dull and apathetic, taking no interest in what 
 was said or done. My brother sent for a physi- 
 cian, who came with his great wig and his gold-headed 
 cane. He talked much: I know not what he said, 
 but I daresay he discoursed very learnedly. Still, 
 however, I remained in the same condition doing 
 nothing saying nothing, thinking nothing. And it;
 
 On the River Darenth. 33 
 
 seemed as if melancholy had indeed seized me, and 
 that no more was to be expected, for the rest of my 
 life, except that incurable distraction of the mind 
 which we call madness. 
 
 There was a certain cousin, Isabel by name, a young 
 widow, having been the wife of Mr. Reuben Storey, 
 my mother's nephew. She came to see me : she was 
 greatly shocked at my condition, and after a while 
 she proposed to my brother to take me away to her 
 own lodging, in London, there to give me change of 
 air and of scene. 
 
 My brother was, I think, glad to get rid of a girl in 
 such a condition. He put me off upon his cousin 
 with the greatest alacrity. And so I was carried to 
 London. 
 
 Now, remember that my cousin was dressed in 
 Quaker garb, the widow of a Quaker, herself, so far as 
 any of us knew, still a Quakeress, though she was not 
 born in the Society : that my brother would never 
 have allowed me to enter any house that did not be- 
 long to some member of the Society: that she was 
 always demure and quiet in Joseph's presence: and 
 that she never once before this revealed herself in any 
 other light than that of a consistent Friend. 
 
 What, then, was my surprise when, as soon as we 
 were through the garden gates, she began to kiss me 
 and to talk in a most unexpected manner ! 
 
 " Dear heart ! " she cried, " dear child, thou art 
 starving for happiness. I know the symptoms — I am 
 resolved to make thee cheerful. What? A young 
 girl — a lovely girl — ought to be happy and merry and
 
 34 A Fountain Sealed* 
 
 gay. Well, I shall give you something new to think 
 about : I shall teach you to laugh. Nancy — think of 
 that ! I do not believe you have ever heard a laugh 
 in that great silent house. It will be strange for 
 you to laugh : strange at first, but you will grow ac- 
 customed. We will talk like other Christians — you 
 will find it very easy. I will teach you to sing and to 
 play music: there are many ways of being happy in 
 the part of town where I live. You shall hear music. 
 Fie upon the Quakers that they have banished music 
 from their Society ! Why, it was music which soothed 
 the troubled heart of Saul : it is music which lifts the 
 soul. As for that pretty face" — she kissed that face 
 — "it shall know another kind of look in a day or 
 two : your pale cheek shall be rosy. Your white arm 
 — it is a poor thin arm at present — but it shall fill out. 
 What say you, Molly?" She ran on without waiting 
 for an answer. I listened with speechless wonder. 
 This kind of talk had I never heard before. And my 
 cousin kept laughing while she talked. Why did she 
 laugh ? 
 
 "Ah, Madam!" cried Molly. "This is cheerful 
 talk. The dear young lady wants not Meeting- 
 houses and tombstones. Give her cheerful talk, and 
 I warrant she will come round again, and that right 
 soon." 
 
 " Her eyes are brighter already, Molly. It is the 
 sight of the wicked world, Nancy, that does you good 
 already. What? You are looking out upon the 
 wicked world for the first time. There go the wicked 
 men working for their wicked wives for the support
 
 On the River Darenth. 35 
 
 of their wicked children — you see them all along the 
 streets. And here " — the journey of twenty miles 
 was done — " here is St. James's Place, close to the 
 wicked Park where the wicked ladies walk ; and here, 
 my dear, is my humble lodging."
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 A Miracle. 
 
 I HAVE now to relate an event which, I cannot 
 choose but believe was a direct miracle. How can we 
 doubt, I ask, that such miracles of healing are per- 
 formed every day, when we believe in the miracle of a 
 sinner's conversion ? 
 
 You shall hear. 
 
 I was overcome with the fatigue and the excite- 
 ment of the journey. When the carriage drew up at 
 the door of the house, instead of following my cousin 
 I fell down in some kind of swoon and was caught by 
 Molly. When I recovered Molly was standing over 
 me with the hartshorn and my cousin with a glass of 
 wine. They took me into a bedroom and put me to 
 bed, as if I was a child. I fell fast asleep, and con- 
 tinued the whole night through without disturbance, 
 without terrors, without once thinking of my soul, and 
 without any dreams. 
 
 It was about eight in the morning when I woke up. 
 I was awakened by a sweet and soothing sound. It 
 was music. Remember that I had never before heard 
 any music at all. How should a Quaker living in a 
 country house hear music ? Why, I knew not what it
 
 A Miracle. 37 
 
 meant. I had never to my recollection heard even 
 the ploughboy whistling on his way to work. My 
 cousin was playing on the harpsichord : she played 
 softly and sweetly, having a most skilful and tender 
 touch, so that the air fell upon my ears like a gentle 
 rain of refreshment. I thought of the harps of 
 Heaven and the hymns of the Blessed. My heart 
 beat ; tears crowded into my eyes. When a new 
 emotion is experienced, if the words are wanting 
 which should describe it, one speaks of it in terms 
 that belong to other senses. If I were to say, for 
 instance, that my cousin's music was like the fragrance 
 of violets in the hedge, or like the pine-trees in the 
 rare sunshine of March, or like the tender sweetness 
 of the mignonette, you would understand that I could 
 not tell you in other words the delight with which 
 this music filled my willing soul. 
 
 Then I remembered where I was — in my cousin's 
 lodging : not at home. I sprang from my bed and 
 pushed back the curtains of the darkened room. Yes, 
 it was a different room indeed. My own room at 
 home had in it nothing but a bed, a cupboard, and a 
 plain chair of cane : the walls were bare : there were 
 no curtains or hangings : a bedroom with us was a 
 place in which to sleep. This room had coloured 
 engravings on the walls ; samplers were hanging over 
 the mantelshelf : there was a soft carpet : the bed was 
 in an alcove with costly curtains and hangings : there 
 was a toilette-table with a large mirror and all kinds of 
 things that women are supposed to want, including a 
 pot of rouge and a silver patch-box and powder for the
 
 3^ A Fountain Sealed, 
 
 face. There were two low chairs covered with red 
 plush. 
 
 I turned, bewildered, to the window. It looked out 
 upon the Green Park. The morning was fair : it was 
 already eight o'clock; nurses or mothers were there 
 with their children, who ran about playing and crying 
 and laughing : soldiers were exercising : there were 
 trees in one place, and through the branches I saw the 
 gleaming of a pond : on the north side there ran a 
 road through fields — it was the road called Piccadilly, 
 horsemen were riding along : and there passed by a 
 stage-coach, laden and piled high with parcels and 
 packages, covered with mud, because it had come all 
 the way from the West Country. 
 
 For a while, filled with interest and curiosity, I gazed 
 upon all these things. Then suddenly I made a 
 strange discovery. It was nothing less than this. I 
 felt no longer the oppression that had held me down. 
 
 This was the Miracle of which I spoke above. 
 
 What had happened, then? My cousin was still 
 playing. I remembered how King Saul, who also 
 suffered from melancholia, was soothed by David's 
 harp. But when David went away his malady returned. 
 Doubtless when my cousin ceased to play my malady 
 would also return. 
 
 She did cease to play. Then I sat down and 
 waited. " It will begin again," I said to myself with 
 terror unspeakable. There should be a Prayer in the 
 Litany — " From a disordered brain : and from the 
 terror of a disordered brain, Good Lord deliver us ! " 
 
 But it came not. The fresh air from the Park
 
 b 
 
 A Miracle. 39 
 
 fanned my cheek : I heard the laughing children down 
 below : I heard the words of command as the Ser- 
 geant drilled his men : I found that I could think and 
 reason : the prospects of my immortal soul ceased to 
 loom before me heavy and black. Was not this a 
 miracle? A single night had done this. A single 
 night only had changed me. What is more, I have 
 never since suffered from melancholia. 
 
 Then, with hesitation and doubt, I dressed, and 
 opened the door of the parlour. My cousin ran and 
 caught me by both hands, and kissed me on both 
 cheeks. 
 
 "Why," she cried, laughing — why did she laugh? 
 but she laughed at everything — " the medicine works ! 
 Thine eyes are bright — tell me, dear, was thy sleep 
 sound? Thy cheek hath already a touch of the sum- 
 mer rose — was thy sleep peaceful ? Was it without 
 bad dreams? And thy poor head — it is better? and 
 thy brain — it is clearer? and thy heart — it is stout 
 again?" She made no pause for my replies. "Oh, I 
 rejoice, my dear ! To be sure, I expected nothing 
 less " — I had answered not one word — " sit down, 
 now: we will take our dish of chocolate." Molly 
 brought it that moment, foaming, in two bowls. 
 " Here are toast and buttered cakes. Eat, my dear, 
 and drink, and then we will talk. You must long to 
 talk, after so long a silence." Indeed, I was not burn- 
 ing to talk. It was enough to sit and listen while my 
 cousin talked. 
 
 I listened, and looked round the room. It needed 
 not the eye of a plain Quakeress to discover that this
 
 40 A Fountain Sealecl. 
 
 room and its tenant were clearly followers of the 
 world's fashions and pleasures. There was the harpsi- 
 chord with its books of music : on the walls pictures 
 hung, as many pictures as could be hung : some were 
 oil paintings ; some were coloured drawings. I was 
 never tired of looking at these pictures : for the most 
 part they presented rural scenes — is it not pleasant to 
 see, and to recall, the village green, the pond with the 
 flock of ducks, and all the country sights? They 
 presented heads — studies, my cousin called them — 
 groups of people, interiors of churches, men in taverns 
 drinking — everything that you can think of. What 
 harm can there be in studying such pictures ? Why 
 did our founder prohibit the practice of Art? Then 
 there were books on shelves — not serious books, but 
 plays and poetry. My cousin afterwards encouraged 
 me to read them. 
 
 While I listened and looked about me, my cousin 
 continued with the utmost volubility, talking of two 
 or three subjects at the same time. And she looked 
 into my face with a kind of exultant satisfaction be- 
 cause her prophecy had proved correct, and the 
 change was already apparent. When melancholia, 
 which is a disease of the imagination, leaves the pa- 
 tient, the recovery is instantaneous. But the terror — 
 yes — the terror of it remains until the dying day. 
 
 " You are astonished, my dear," she said. " I do 
 not use the Quaker manner of speech, nor do I dress 
 after their fashion, nor do I obey their rules about 
 music and pictures. Know then, sweet Nancy, that I 
 joined the Friends to please my husband ; and that I
 
 A Miracle* 4* 
 
 left them, after his death, to please myself. I do but 
 assume the dress when I go to visit thy brother's 
 house." She wore a very fine night-gown of pink 
 sarsnet, with a pink ribbon in her laced cap. Rings 
 were on her fingers, certainly, she had departed very 
 far from the Quaker rule. " I have not told you of 
 my resignation : he would not receive me if he knew ; 
 and Nancy, dear," she took my hand and held it,;' my 
 heart bled for thee, so young, so beautiful, condemned 
 to languish in obscurity, or to endure the wooing of 
 some sanctified Yea Verily. Heavens, my dear ! if 
 thy mother saw thee, this morning — eyes bright, face 
 clear, she would forgive this deception by which I 
 have rescued thee, and by which I hope to keep thee 
 for awhile. What is it, after all? I was born in the 
 Church of England. I was grown-up when I turned 
 Quaker. (Your mother would be amazed to mark the 
 difference.) I only joined the Society to please my 
 Reuben. For his sake I would have become a Mo- 
 hammedan, had he wished it. (Your eyes, Nancy, 
 are like lamps, and your lips like rosebuds !) As long 
 as he lived I said ' thee ' instead of ' thou ' and ' you.' 
 Oh ! the pride and the pretence of it ! While he 
 lived, too, I dressed always in his fashion, which I was 
 happy to discover is not unbecoming to a fine woman 
 like myself." My cousin was a tall and handsome 
 woman with large eyes, an ample cheek, and fullness 
 of figure. " Not at all unbecoming if the dress is 
 made of fine materials." Certainly I had never be- 
 fore heard talk so easy and so voluble, accompanied 
 by so many smiles and nods and little gestures of
 
 4 2 A Fountain Sealed, 
 
 head and lips and hands. " My dear, I was never 
 more than half a Quaker. They questioned me on 
 my admission. Reuben, though a Broadbrim, was as 
 anxious to marry me as if he had been a simple 
 Churchman. That was why I loved him — because he 
 loved me as a young man should. So he told me 
 what to say, and they received me. But only half a 
 Quaker, ever. I kept my harpsichord in a garret, out 
 of the way : I used to go secretly to St. Paul's to 
 hear the anthem. Oh ! I like the Friends well enough. 
 They are charitable to the poor, but they are stiff- 
 necked : even Reuben believed there was no salva- 
 tion except in his sect : and thy brother Joseph 
 believes that even membership does not insure salva- 
 tion. However, there is some safety in taking a 
 Quaker for a husband : he will not go to bed drunk, 
 nor will he indulge in those — rovings — or sallies — 
 which most torment a woman's heart." 
 
 I understood very little of this long discourse, be- 
 cause the newness of everything bewildered me. 
 However, one thing at least was plain : that my 
 cousin had me, for a time, in her keeping, and that 
 many other new things were going to happen. 
 
 So she went on talking, and I listening and looking 
 about me. 
 
 " Why, my Nancy, the gloom has gone already. It 
 was but sulks, I doubt, thou saucy girl! Yet it must 
 not return. The cloud hath rolled away — already I 
 see the sunshine on thy brow." She patted my 
 cheek softly. She was, in a word, one of those women 
 who would gladly see all their friends happy. " Why,
 
 A Miracle. 43 
 
 Nancy, I have seen for a long time that neither nun- 
 nery nor Meeting-house was designed for thee." 
 What did she mean ? " Brother Broadbrim hath no 
 concern with this soft face, with those rosy lips, with 
 those big eyes, with this velvet cheek which hath al- 
 ready the returning rose — 'tis now the time of roses : 
 thou art created for the happiness of a Man, not of a 
 Yea Verily." I ought to have remonstrated against 
 this talk, but, indeed, I had no power. " Well : we 
 shall show thee the Wicked World. My Lord and 
 Lady Vanity shall see the sweetest piece of Innocence 
 ever taken into the Park. I say the Park, my dear, 
 where the ladies of fashion walk, but I am not one of 
 them — although I go as fine as most — for Reuben left 
 money. I am not one of them. A mere tradesman's 
 widow who married a Broadbrim — yet his hat was the 
 only fault he had — one who for love put on the frock 
 of grey — I say that a tradesman's widow is not re- 
 ceived by these ladies, though her beauty may make 
 them tear their hair for mortification, and though her 
 dress be finer than theirs, and her accomplishments 
 better. Well — I mind it not — so much have I gotten 
 from the Friends that I regard no more the preten- 
 sions of rank, and am afraid to stand before no man — 
 and no woman either, which is saying more. We shall 
 look at them in the Park, Nancy, and it shall not be 
 my fault, my dear, if they do not look at thee. Al- 
 ready thou art transformed : the thought of the silent 
 
 house like a great grave " 
 
 Here she stopped suddenly and sprang to her feet, 
 for the mere mention of the silent house recalled to
 
 44 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 my mind, in a moment, all that had happened : the 
 gloomy forebodings of everlasting perdition, Joseph's 
 triumphant proofs that no one should presume to 
 hope, the lonely brooding over those sad thoughts in 
 the garden, the dreadful day when I stood over the 
 black water of the pond, my thoughts blacker still ; 
 and all the trouble returned to my eyes. I seemed to 
 hear the rustling of wings — the return of Melancholia 
 — I turned ashy pale — I fell back in my chair. When 
 I recovered, Molly was patting my hands with a cold 
 wet sponge, and my cousin was administering smell- 
 ing salts. 
 
 " Poor lamb ! " she was saying. " She is weaker 
 than I thought. Molly, never mention the house — 
 never speak to her about it. We must keep her 
 thoughts from the past." 
 
 " It was not the loneliness," said Molly. " A body 
 may bear to be lonely : 'twas Master Joseph with his 
 everlasting asking who could be saved. Oh ! they're 
 hard upon her with their Elected and their damned — 
 damned for nothing — as a body may say." 
 
 " Hush, Molly ! She opens her eyes." 
 
 So I sat up, and my cousin went on talking, looking 
 anxiously at me from time to time. I think she 
 talked faster than ever, keeping my mind fixed upon 
 the new things to which she was introducing me. 
 
 " When we are in the world, my dear, we must do 
 as the world does. Lord ! a body must not be singu- 
 lar. Therefore you will dress as they dress. And you 
 must speak as they speak. And you must learn the 
 pretty little nothings, the graces, the pretences, the
 
 A Miracle. 45 
 
 affectations : they mean nothing, but they please ; and 
 the art of smiling and laughing — it will amuse you in- 
 finitely for a while to be a lady of fashion. And I 
 have thought of a great moral lesson in it — oh ! a 
 most useful lesson. In the Society there are no temp- 
 tations for a lovely maid : no one turns her head with 
 love and compliments, flames and darts and burning 
 hearts, bosky groves and laughing Loves : she knows 
 nothing of these poetical snares which catch a girl 
 and make her vain and conceited. But, my Nancy, 
 which is better- — to meet temptation and resist it, or 
 never to be tempted at all ? Think how meritorious 
 it is to resist temptation." 
 
 If I am reproached with the readiness of this deser- 
 tion of my own people, remember that I was not in a 
 condition to resist, to question, or to object. The 
 chief emotions in my mind at the time were bewilder- 
 ment amidst these new surroundings, a newly awak- 
 ened curiosity, and an ever-present terror lest the 
 clutch of the demon — can I ever cease to believe that 
 I was truly Possessed ? — should again seize upon me. 
 But of resistance I was quite incapable. I knew not, 
 nor did my cousin know, that in putting off the Quaker 
 garb I could never again put it on. I knew not, nor 
 did she know, that in giving up their manner of speech 
 I could never resume it. For dress and speech alike 
 are connected with that time of Melancholia. Even 
 now, after more than twenty years, when I think of 
 the silent house where one heard nothing but the tick- 
 ing of the clock, which was haunted by a fearful whis- 
 per threatening in my ears everlasting torment, a
 
 46 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 shudder seizes me. I shake and tremble : for a little 
 while my mind is clouded : for a brief space the skies 
 are darkened, and I feel again, as I felt then, that 
 there is no hope, and can be none, for me, because I 
 am not one of the few Elect, and that my unhappy 
 soul is included among the innumerable multitude of 
 those for whom Christ did not die.
 
 CHAPTER IE. 
 The Wicked World. 
 
 THEN did my cousin address herself very seriously 
 to the task of making me observe, and imitate, the 
 fashions of the world. And I have to relate how what 
 was begun only as an experiment or a medicine proved 
 in the end to be a necessary condition of life : in other 
 words, how it became impossible for me to go back to 
 my old way of life. 
 
 First, because this meant one's outward appearance, 
 we engaged upon the subject of dress. To me there 
 had-been hitherto but two colours (except those with 
 which Nature had endowed the flowers) — namely, grey 
 and drab : the men dressed in the latter, the women 
 in the former. Yet colour, and the discrimination of 
 colour, came to me as by instinct. And as for fash- 
 ions — for the shape of a mantle or a sash or a hat ; 
 for stuffs of silk or satin ; brocade or velvet ; for rib- 
 bons, laces, gloves, embroidery, and such gear, it was 
 wonderful in the eyes of my instructress to mark the 
 rapid progress which I made. Yet I ventured some- 
 times — not every day — more feebly to protest against 
 giving to these things the whole attention of a woman. 
 
 " Why, Nancy," said my cousin laughing, " what is 
 the use of fine clothes ? They set off and adorn a fine
 
 4 8 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 woman. And why should a fine woman set off and 
 adorn her person? To attract the men, my dear. And 
 why should she wish to attract the men ? In order to 
 gain power and have her own way. The men believe 
 they rule the world. Not so. The women rule the 
 men, who rule the world." 
 
 One need not believe all the idle nonsense talked by 
 Isabel in her light and careless way, which, to one like 
 myself, was wonderful. Yet there is (for a woman) a 
 happiness (I know not why) in the mere putting on 
 things that are beautiful and becoming ; and not only 
 in wearing, but in choosing them out of other things 
 beautiful and becoming such as flowered silks, point 
 lace, and the like. If clothes were invented only for 
 warmth, a blanket and a leathern girdle would be 
 enough. If they were invented to show the figure — • 
 but why should we wish to show the figure? — then 
 hoops, head-dresses, sleeves, and many other things 
 would have to be discarded. The figure has nothing 
 to do with the fashions : if one were shaped like a pig 
 the fashions might continue. If the figure alone were 
 concerned the fashions would never change. But all 
 human creatures love change ; therefore the fashions 
 change : and all women, if they can afford to buy them, 
 delight in stuffs beautiful to look at and soft to handle. 
 
 In a word, I proved in this respect an apt pupil, 
 and speedily learned almost as much as my cousin 
 could teach me. And after a week or two you might 
 have seen me, who had been clad in plain Quakers' 
 grey all my life, now sitting in the shops of Ludgate 
 Hill or Cheap, while the complaisant draper and his
 
 The Wicked World. 49 
 
 patient apprentices brought out their choicest fabrics, 
 such as they do not use to set in the windows, and 
 learnedly discoursed for our instruction upon the new- 
 est fashions and their changes. 
 
 Another point was the manner of speech. It would 
 seem easy to change from " thee " to " thou " or " you " 
 when one is not familiar, or to say "yes" and " no" 
 instead of "yea" and "nay"; yet I confess that it 
 cost me a great deal of practice before I spoke easily 
 in the way of the world. Happily, a woman is not 
 called upon to use the oaths and appeals to the Deity 
 which are commonly the custom with men : thus I had 
 nothing to learn except (which I did never learn) such 
 familiarity with these words as might make them fall 
 unnoticed on my ears. 
 
 My cousin was anxious on the score of an easy or a 
 graceful carriage. It must be owned that the Quak- 
 ers in this respect are greatly to seek : yet among them 
 the stiffness of their carriage lends to those who are 
 advanced in years a certain dignity. It is of the 
 younger men and women that one would complain. 
 I think, for instance, with a kind of shame of my 
 brother Joseph, who moved and stood as if he was 
 of a verity made of wood and jointed like a puppet. 
 " My dear," said Isabel, " at Dartford one could hear 
 the joints creak." 
 
 For the sake of grace I must needs learn dancing. 
 "There is nothing," said my cousin, "that so takes 
 the stiffness out of the limbs. The Society of Friends 
 would make a woman believe that she hath no limbs 
 and is nothing but a head on a grey frock. I should
 
 5° A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 like, my dear, to give you a wooden hoop and make 
 you run in the Park every day — but it is a censorious 
 world. We will learn to dance." 
 
 By this time I was quite ready to accept without 
 question whatever regimen might be prescribed for 
 me. Nor did I stop to inquire or to consider what 
 would be my brother's wrath should he discover that 
 I had learned to dance. To dance ! Was there any- 
 thing which filled the heart of the Quaker with greater 
 horror than the spectacle of young men and maidens 
 dancing — hand in hand — round the ring — setting to 
 each other, beating time with their feet: with curtsies 
 and inclinations : singing as they danced ? All they 
 knew was the rude, coarse wake and village dance, not 
 the courtly, graceful, stately dance that my cousin 
 taught me. 
 
 One who has been cut off from the innocent plea- 
 sures of the world may well become, in a manner, in- 
 toxicated with them when they are at length placed 
 within her reach. I became greedy of everything, 
 and of dancing among the rest. The movement of 
 the body in harmony with the music : the expression 
 by the limbs of what music meant : the interpretation 
 of courtesy, respect, reverence, affection, gracefulness 
 by corresponding gestures and steps was a thing to me 
 so wholly unexpected and so new that I could not but 
 ask for more. 
 
 I learned, as well, to laugh. Yes : strange to say, 
 the power of laughing came to me unsolicited and 
 untaught. I cannot tell you when first I laughed, or 
 why. I learned to laugh, as a duckling learns to swirn,
 
 The Wicked World. 5 1 
 
 by observing others laugh. When one begins to 
 laugh, one finds a thousand things to laugh at : unex- 
 pected turns : the astonishment of some one : some- 
 thing said mal-a-propos ; something said unwarily : 
 the accidental discovery of a little secret. The diffi- 
 culty is to find out, not why one should laugh, but 
 why one did not always laugh. If we laughed when 
 Molly tripped on the carpet and fell down with the 
 dish of sausages, why did not my brother Joseph laugh 
 when a similar accident happened at his table? I 
 only note this trifling point because I desire you to 
 understand the great and wonderful transformation 
 which my cousin brought about. 
 
 I have said that my cousin's rooms were covered 
 with pictures, upon which I gazed with a pleasure al- 
 ways new. Most of these pictures are now hanging 
 on the walls of my own house : yet, after so many 
 years, the sight of them still affords delight to me, and 
 in each one I discover always some fresh beauty. In 
 some of them there are spiritual heights which are dis- 
 covered by long contemplation, when the soul is 
 lifted to the level of the picture. It seems to me, 
 thinking over all that I have read and seen and ex- 
 perienced, that there are times when the painter or 
 the poet describes or paints things far beyond his own 
 reach of mind : there is, for instance, a divinity, some- 
 times, in the face of Virgin or Saint as represented in 
 certain pictures which the painter himself could never 
 perceive or portray. Therefore I say that the soul 
 must be lifted to the level of such a picture before it 
 can convey its message. Why, then, have my former
 
 52 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 friends forbidden paintings ? Because, I suppose, the 
 founder of the sect was too ignorant to know what a 
 picture is, or what high thoughts may be suggested 
 by a picture. 
 
 Not only did my cousin possess these pictures in 
 frames fitted to the panels of her wainscotting, but she 
 had also portfolios full of prints and engravings, some 
 of them most exquisite ; some, it is true, of the earth, 
 earthy (which one could pass over). In addition she 
 could herself draw very dexterously in pencil outline, 
 which she would afterwards fill in with colour. Her 
 genius lay in drawing figures : thus she drew the 
 soldiers marching out of St. James's Palace: the fine 
 ladies in the Park: the beaux attending them: the 
 divine and the lawyer: and the people in the street — 
 the men and women who walk all day long about 
 every street carrying everything that a house can want 
 and bawling their wares at the top of the voice. Here 
 are her drawings before me. I remember every one : 
 the bandbox man with his bandboxes of every shape 
 and every colour, the man covered up and almost 
 hidden by his pile of baskets; the man who offered to 
 mend your bellows, the man who sold brickdust, the 
 woman with the cats'-meat, the girl who would mend 
 your rush-buttomed chair, the man with the brooms, 
 the knife-terror, the lavender girl, the boy with the 
 matches, the old clothes man, the Turk who sold the 
 slippers, the sandman, the strawberry-girl, and the 
 sweep. They are all before me, drawn to the life. 
 Why should these things be forbidden ? What sinful 
 emotion is excited in the mind by the picture of the
 
 The Wicked World. 53 
 
 knife-grinder? What by the picture of the straw- 
 berry-girl? 
 
 Among the pictures were figured certain marble 
 statues. Before one of them my cousin held me. 
 " Nancy," she said, " this figure is the sweetest dream 
 of beauty ever put into marble. Learn — for I am sure 
 you do not know already — that the type of perfection, 
 whether of Art, or of Learning, or of Holiness, is the 
 human figure, and the female figure. The curving 
 lines which artists love are taken by them to repre- 
 sent the highest and most perfect attainment in every- 
 thing. This form is the soul, blessed and purified ; or 
 it is Song at its noblest : it is the Muse of this or of 
 that. Regard it as a symbol, and ask only how far 
 the figure corresponds with the ideal." But this les- 
 son I learned gradually, and not in a single day. To 
 understand these things is to understand that ancient 
 art of which the connoisseurs speak and write with 
 such enthusiasm. 
 
 Then Isabel showed me her books — she had a case 
 full of them. 
 
 " I have always thought," she went on, " that the 
 finest invention of man has been the book which por- 
 trays the sufferings of imaginary people. In reading 
 of them we forget ourselves : and though we boil with 
 indignation we are restrained by the knowledge that 
 nothing is real. So, my dear, we will to-day, if you 
 please, begin the study of that most unfortunate of 
 puppets, the real — unreal, imaginary — veritable, hero- 
 ine, Clarissa." 
 
 In this immortal book the wickedness of man is so
 
 54 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 unmistakably held up to execration, and the unhappy 
 victim of a relentless passion is so movingly depicted 
 that one rises from its perusal with a heart strength- 
 ened for virtue and religion. I confess that to me 
 Clarissa is a real woman of flesh and blood. And to 
 think that this book, with all other works of imag- 
 ination which deal with the passions and sins of men 
 and women, should be prohibited by the Society of 
 Friends ! 
 
 After reading " Clarissa " we exchanged novels for 
 poetry. First my cousin introduced me to portions 
 of Shakspere, Milton, Dryden, Pope, and others. She 
 read these portions aloud. Many women, I think, 
 would do well to study the art of reading aloud. My 
 cousin read very well, and after study in the true 
 modulation of the voice and with gestures appropri- 
 ate to every emotion, she possessed a sweet voice and 
 read with much feeling. It is in the reading of fine 
 poetry that a generous heart most readily betrays 
 itself. As she read she would stop to say, " Listen, 
 Nancy — here is a noble thought — this is sweet and 
 tender — this is a passage that women would do well 
 to carry about in their minds . . . Here is a vivid 
 description. One can hear the clanking of the armour 
 . . . Here is a fine contempt for things base and low. 
 Can one hear such sentiments at Meeting? This poet 
 is all for giving up everything : our old friends are all 
 for getting what they can — every man for himself, 
 whether it is a seat in heaven or a hundred thousand 
 pounds. They forbid the poets. Why? Because, 
 they say, some poetry is not fit for a virtuous woman
 
 
 (A 
 W 
 
 X 
 
 w 
 
 »— i 
 
 w 
 
 H 
 < 
 
 Q 
 w 
 
 13 
 
 c 
 o 
 
 >" 
 
 S 
 
 w
 
 The Wicked World. 55 
 
 to read. Then they may as well forbid a walk in the 
 streets, where, to be sure, the things said are far worse 
 than any poet has ever written. No, my dear, the 
 same spirit which forbade poetry also forbade music 
 and painting. It is a narrow and an ignorant spirit, 
 my dear, which we have done well to put away." 
 
 One must not forget the power of music. Was not 
 my soul uplifted a thousand times? — yea, clean carried 
 out of itself into heights rilled with blissful dreams 
 and soft airs, by my cousin's playing? She knew all 
 kinds of music — soft and gentle : loud and martial : 
 tender, so that the heart yearned after something 
 unknown : meditative, sorrowful. Much of what she 
 played was music taken from Masses composed for the 
 Roman service : that service which I had been taught 
 to believe was all superstition and treachery and de- 
 ceit. Yet the music was unspeakably moving. While 
 my cousin played I sat beside her, my head on my 
 hand, seeing nothing, all my senses rapt by those 
 sweet strains. 
 
 Why — why — why — have the Friends closed this 
 avenue, this gate of Heaven ? Eye hath not seen the 
 glories of the world to come, but surely by means 
 of music the soul may be wafted upwards and so 
 be vouchsafed a glimpse through the Pearly Gates. 
 Never shall I forget the first morning when we heard 
 the music in Westminster Abbey. The church itself 
 amazed me : the tombs of the Kings and of the great 
 men of the country filled me with emotion : these 
 were the people — I had never thought them real before 
 I saw their tombs — who were set upon thrones and
 
 5 6 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 bidden to resist temptation not offered to lesser men ; 
 to be great and good and wise — for the sake of their 
 people. Well : all the people — kings and paupers, 
 wise or foolish, good or bad, great or little — the 
 Church receives them all. The Church receives them 
 all. And our little sect — our following small and nar- 
 row — refuses them all. The Church receives them all : 
 this building so wonderful in its height and length and 
 in the beauty of its pillars and its carvings stands for 
 the whole Church of Christ and is a symbol of the 
 Church of Christ : and it receives all — all — all within 
 its walls. Then, while I thought these things, the 
 sweet pure voices of the boys — they stood for the 
 angels — rose up and floated over our heads and rolled 
 about the roof and the arches and the aisles; and 
 after the anthem the voice of him who prayed was like 
 a whisper to us who stood outside under the tran- 
 sept. So great was the contrast between the univer- 
 sal Motherhood of the Church of England and the 
 straitness of my sect that my former opinions — all 
 that were left— fell from me as a mantle falls from the 
 shoulders. Come what might come, I would hence- 
 forth, I resolved, follow a creed which allowed me to 
 believe in the goodness and the love of the Lord. 
 
 " Child ! " my cousin cried when I told her these 
 things. " What is this? They will surely say that it 
 was my doing." 
 
 " Dear Isabel ! thou art all goodness to me. But, 
 indeed, I can no longer remain in the Society of 
 Friends." 
 
 Here I must stop. My education (or my transfor-
 
 The Wicked World. 57 
 
 mation) was now complete. Look at me at the begin- 
 ing of this chapter. In dress, in speech, in carriage, 
 a Quaker among Quakers : my mind, except for the 
 narrow creed of that sect, empty, and ready for the 
 possession of any wandering devils who might be per- 
 mitted to enter. Ignorant of the world : ignorant of 
 music, painting, singing, dancing: ignorant of manners. 
 In all these things my cousin was able to effect a com- 
 plete change principally because she found me at a 
 time when I was weak and humbled, and above all 
 things anxious never to look back. 
 
 As I said above, my cousin did not understand that 
 in doing all this for me she was making it impossible 
 for me to return to the old life. Not even the memory 
 of my mother could send me back to a sect where I 
 found no hope — or if any, no more than a struggling 
 ray of light in the darkness scarcely visible. Let me 
 live under the wings of the Church which admits all, 
 as the Abbey buries all, within its Avails. Here lie 
 saint and sinner : sinful King and innocent Queen, 
 martyr and murderess — the Church admits them all. 
 "Come," she cries. "All ye who have lived. Here 
 there is hope for all. Lie down and rest and trust." 
 And so, as John Bunyan journeyed through the Dark 
 Valley to the Hills beyond, I went through all those 
 agonies of terror and found myself at last standing on 
 the slopes of the Hills Beautiful.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The First Meeting. 
 
 YOU have heard from Lord de Lys how tradition 
 still attaches to a house in St. James's Place concern- 
 ing a certain Person and a certain lady. It cannot be 
 more than a garbled and mangled version of the truth. 
 Not one of the persons chiefly concerned would ever, 
 I believe, speak publicly of this episode. Not Cap- 
 tain Sellinger ; not the Corporal, who was afterwards 
 killed in action ; not my cousin, who died of smallpox 
 a year after this event ; not Dr. Mynsterchamber, who 
 went away under circumstances you shall learn, and 
 no doubt is long since dead ; not Molly, who remains 
 with me still ; not Mr. Robert Storey, who shortly 
 afterwards fell into misfortune and the Fleet Prison. 
 In whatever version was spread abroad, I make no 
 doubt that I was depicted as a woman of the basest 
 sort, practising the allurements of Delilah, decked 
 with fine raiment and jewels, costly head-tire and 
 wanton looks : in short, such a woman as is described 
 by the Wise King in his Book of Proverbs. You, 
 however, who have read so far will understand that a 
 young gentlewoman with such a history as mine — for 
 which reason I have written what precedes — formerly 
 a Quakeress, and of the strictest kind, daughter of a
 
 The First Meeting. 59 
 
 wealthy manufacturer, instructed in none of the arts 
 of allurement and only the simplest graces and accom- 
 plishments, would be unable — if she were basely to 
 wish — to attempt those arts. 
 
 This is a love story : for my own part I do not be- 
 lieve that any others are worth reading : I am indeed 
 sincerely sorry for all poor women who have no love 
 story of their own. One must not magnify the pas- 
 sion of love, but certainly there is no other passion 
 that plays so important a part in this transitory life, 
 especially for my sex. I say that this is a love story : 
 and I declare, further, that if any young man (what- 
 ever his rank) bestowed upon me his affections in the 
 springtime of my days, when I possessed some charms 
 of face and form, it was not on account of any allure- 
 ments or snares, but solely on account of those per- 
 fections which a generous and noble soul (out of his 
 own nobility) imagined in a woman all imperfections. 
 The more noble the lover the deeper and the stronger 
 is his love, the more heavenly becomes the woman of 
 his imagination. Such a young man sees in the wo- 
 man he loves a Living Well of Virtue, a Sealed Foun- 
 tain, a soul all beautiful within and without. Happy 
 is the woman who is loved by so great a heart ; for 
 even before her death she may be led upward so as to 
 become an angel of heaven. 
 
 My cousin spent an incredible amount of pains upon 
 me for three months — namely, May, June, and July of 
 the year 1760. During that time she transformed me 
 into a woman of the fashion — that is to say, not a 
 great Court lady, but a woman who dressed like the
 
 60 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 rest, spoke like the rest, and took the same pleasure 
 in the things that delight all other women. Of friends 
 we had not many, which afterwards proved an ad- 
 vantage to us. The other occupants of the house — 
 namely, Corporal Bates, of the Horse Guards, and his 
 family in the garrets, Captain Sellinger on the second 
 floor, and Dr. Mynsterchamber on the ground floor, 
 we knew, but had little intercourse with them. So 
 much was I changed that I could not bear to think of 
 the Society of Friends. Only to remember the house 
 at Dartford made me tremble and shiver. I had 
 ceased going to First Day Meeting, and had even be- 
 gun to attend the services at St. James's, Piccadilly, 
 with my cousin, who had a pew in that noble church. 
 As for singing, painting, reading poetry, making music, 
 embroidery, fine dress, and adornment of all kinds I was 
 now as fond of these things as my cousin could desire. 
 
 It was on Wednesday, August 17, that the event 
 happened which was destined to change the whole of 
 my life. At half-past seven in the evening I was re- 
 turning home from evening prayers at St. James's. 
 It was a sermon day, which made the service longer. 
 I was accompanied by Molly, who walked behind me, 
 carrying my prayer-book. Many other ladies were 
 also going home after prayers, either in their coaches 
 or accompanied by footmen carrying sticks, or, like 
 me, protected only by a woman-servant. 
 
 At such a time and in such a place one considers 
 that there is no danger save from some gentleman 
 whose attentions are uninvited or from some auda- 
 cious pickpocket : who could look for danger at the
 
 The Eirst Meeting;. 61 
 
 Court end of the town, in the most polite streets, with 
 numbers of passengers, and in broad daylight ? A 
 gentlewoman may, surely, go to evening prayers and 
 return home without fear of molestation within a few 
 yards of the King's Palace. There is, however, another 
 kind of danger to which one is exposed in every part 
 of the town. One thinks little of it : one cannot guard 
 against it : yet it always threatens : it is always pos- 
 sible : it can never be removed, so long as the world 
 continues to drink rum, punch, port-wine, or beer. 
 
 However, being tranquil as to this or any other 
 danger, and seeing many ladies and persons of respect- 
 able appearance in the streets, I walked along reflect- 
 ing on the discourse which the congregation had just 
 heard. It was one of the kind which the Church of 
 England loves : the preacher had an argument which 
 he expounded, followed up, and proved with a great 
 display of scholarship and with that appearance of 
 authority which the pulpit, the ecclesiastical wig, the 
 black gown, and a full voice also contributed to his 
 discourse. I know not, now, what he advanced or 
 proved. There was nothing of himself in it : no "ex- 
 periences," no claim to the special working of the Lord 
 in his soul : nothing individual : he spoke as one in a 
 collective Church, as if the individual shared with all 
 the rest the gifts and graces of the Church, which re- 
 ceives all alike, treats all alike : gives the same promise 
 to all alike. Nor did this preacher, as my brother 
 Joseph was wont to do, take a text here and a text 
 there and lay them side by side. Not so : he showed 
 us what each text means in the original Greek, and
 
 62 A Fountain Sealed* 
 
 what it means with reference to the passages that go 
 before and the passages which follow after. Such a 
 discourse to a person of my experience was like an in- 
 vitation to rest and be happy in an Ark of Refuge. 
 
 We accomplished our short walk through Jermyn 
 Street and down St. James's Street in perfect safety 
 until we reached the corner of St. James's Place. 
 When we turned into that very quiet place we were 
 met full face to face by two gentlemen walking arm- 
 in-arm, or rather, shoulder to shoulder. 
 
 They both wore the King's scarlet. One of them I 
 knew very well. He was the Honourable Robert 
 Sellinger, younger brother of the Viscount de Lys, 
 Captain in his Majesty's Horse-Guards. He was at 
 this time not more than five-and-twenty : a tall and 
 proper person, upon whom the King's uniform sat be- 
 comingly : all women I am sure, like to see a young 
 man in a handsome uniform. As yet the gout which 
 afterwards cruelly afflicted him, swelling his joints, 
 covering his face with unsightly blotches, crippling his 
 feet, had not appeared. He was, however, so to speak, 
 inviting and preparing the way for it : this he did by 
 drinking too much port-wine or rum punch, so that 
 already his neck was too thick and his cheek too 
 flushed, for so young a man. In the morning, how- 
 ever, there was no better company : he was as well- 
 bred a man as is expected in one of his rank : he had 
 some knowledge of books : he was of the kindliest 
 disposition : and he discoursed pleasantly. In ap- 
 pearance I say that he was tall : his nose was long 
 and narrow: his eyes had a constant light as of sun-
 
 The First Meeting. 63 
 
 shine in them : his lips were ever ready for a smile. 
 To me and to my cousin he was attentive : he visited 
 us frequently: he walked with us in the Park : he told 
 us about the old King in St. James's Palace and the 
 Princes in Leicester Square, and he paid me every day 
 some new and pleasing compliment. But he did not 
 make love to me, for which I am now thankful : in- 
 deed, the poor man, who had but this one fault, en- 
 tertained love towards the bottle as his only mistress. 
 Strange, that a man of parts and judgment should 
 every night voluntarily fuddle himself! Why did he 
 do it ? Why do men, our superiors in strength of mind 
 as well as of body, choose to deaden their finer senses 
 for the sake of — I know not what — say, a few drops of 
 sweetness, more or less? 
 
 Had Captain Sellinger been sober this evening I am 
 certain that nothing would have happened. Sober, 
 he respected me and all other women ; drunk, he re- 
 garded all women alike, just as he regarded (I sup- 
 pose) the impudent hussies in the Park, whom I have 
 seen the gentlemen, with a disgusting familiarity, take 
 by the chin. This evening, however, he was over- 
 come, and he walked with difficulty, holding up his 
 companion and being held up by him. 
 
 At the corner of St. James's Place, I say, we came 
 face to face with this pair, insomuch that there was no 
 way of avoiding them ; nor would they suffer me to 
 take the wall and pass, but, in a manner, spread them- 
 selves and barred the way. 
 
 " Captain Sellinger," I said, " will you let me pass? " 
 
 "Jack," he replied, speaking thickly, "'tis Nancy—
 
 64 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 divine Nancy. She hath been at her devotions — on 
 her lovely knees. Jack, let us take her to Maryle- 
 bone Gardens to finish the evening." 
 
 "T'other bottle," the other man replied still more 
 thickly. He understood nothing. 
 
 " Let me pass, Captain Sellinger." But he still 
 barred the way. 
 
 " Thou shalt take the maid, Jack," he continued. 
 " Molly will do for thee. Hold up, man — and I will 
 take the mistress. Call a coach — call a coach, Molly, 
 for thy mistress and Jack and me." 
 
 So he went on in his tipsy way, about the lovely 
 Nancy, the divine Nancy, and such nonsense as makes 
 me ashamed to set it down except to show that he 
 knew not what he said. 
 
 " Captain Sellinger," I said, " you have been drink- 
 ing, otherwise you would not behave in this strange 
 way. Please suffer me to pass. For shame, Sir; for 
 shame! " 
 
 "T'other bottle," murmured his companion, drop- 
 ping his head upon his chest. 
 
 " You shall pass," he said, " in my arms, in a chariot 
 — in a chair — " he hardly knew what he said — " to 
 Marylebone Gardens. There we will dance — you 
 have never yet danced with me, fair Nancy. We will 
 afterwards take supper — supper, and have — eh, Jack? 
 — t'other bottle." 
 
 " T'other bottle," the other gentleman replied ; but 
 his glassy eye showed that he at least would not 
 arrive at that stage, having certainly worked his way 
 already through as many bottles as he could hold.
 
 The First Meeting. 65 
 
 " Let me go, Captain Sellinger ! " I cried, as he 
 caught hold of my hand. 
 
 " We will go together," he repeated, firm in his 
 drunken mood, " to Marylebone Gardens. The women 
 shall expire — by Gad ! — with envy and spite — bless 
 their hearts ! And the men shall burst — hang 'em ! — 
 with envy. We will show them Venus herself — Venus 
 herself— fair Queen of Love. Willy-nilly, fair Nancy, 
 needs must thou show thy face at Marybone." 
 
 " Nay, Captain Sellinger, this passes endurance. 
 You are so tipsy that you are not yourself. You 
 know not what you say. Will you let me go, or must 
 I force my way through ? " 
 
 Now, what he did I know not. He seized my hand, 
 he tried to kiss my cheek. I know not, indeed, what 
 he did ; because to be accosted in this manner in such 
 a place as St. James's Street by two drunken gentle- 
 men terrifies a girl out of her senses. And to be told 
 that, willy-nilly, she must go with these two gentle- 
 men — almost unable to stand — to a place of public 
 resort disturbed me so much that I can hardly tell 
 what happened. However, I cried out for help, that 
 is quite certain, and Molly screamed and pulled me 
 back, and stood in front of me : and the poor Captain 
 was so fuddled that he hardly knew the maid from 
 the mistress, which, I suppose, was the reason why 
 Molly boxed his ears. And then — then — this was 
 the first meeting — there came running across the street 
 two gentlemen, both young, the elder not more than 
 one or two and twenty, and the other two years or so 
 younger. They drew their swords. " Madam," said
 
 66 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 the elder, with great resolution in his eyes and in his 
 voice, "have no fear, we will make a way for you." 
 
 So saying he stepped before me, drawing his sword 
 and holding it before him, pointed at the poor tipsy 
 Captain. 
 
 The other — the younger man — stepped to the right 
 hand of his friend, and also drew his sword quickly, 
 standing beside the first, yet a little in advance, and it 
 seemed to me as if he was defending his friend, so 
 watchfully did he hold his weapon. I noticed, be- 
 sides, that the two young men were richly dressed : 
 the elder, who was the taller and stouter, in scarlet, 
 like Captain Sellinger, with broad gold lace on his hat 
 and beautiful lace at his wrists and neck. His sash 
 was also trimmed with gold lace. His friend, on the 
 other hand, wore a blue coat with white facings, also 
 decorated with gold lace. I was so ignorant at the 
 time that I did not recognise the uniform of the 
 Royal Navy. 
 
 Now at sight of the drawn swords the Captain 
 showed an immediate and remarkable change of de- 
 meanour. All the soldier awakened in his breast ; he 
 stepped back, leaving hold of his friend, who fell to 
 the ground ; he stood upright and alert : he drew his 
 sword swiftly : the wine went out of his head. " As 
 you will, gentlemen," he said, " if you must interfere 
 where you have no business." So he turned half 
 round, saluted his enemy and crossed swords. 
 
 " Oh ! Good gentlemen ! " cried Molly, wringing 
 her hands. 
 
 " Gentlemen ! " I said. " They are drunk "
 
 The First Meeting;, 67 
 
 As I spoke an extraordinary transformation fell 
 upon Captain Sellinger. His face expressed suddenly 
 a swift succession of emotions — doubt, astonishment, 
 bewilderment, and recognition. "Good Lord!" he 
 cried. Then he lowered his sword to the ground, the 
 point touching the stones : he took off his hat, bowed 
 low, sheathed his sword, and still with bowed head 
 retreated backward, and so passed into the Park be- 
 yond. 
 
 For my own part, I was not so much astonished by 
 this behaviour, because my people practise these cour- 
 tesies of bows and bendings and reverences so little, 
 that, indeed, I knew not what kind of reverence is due 
 to this person or to that. 
 
 " So," said the younger of the two, " the adventure 
 ends well. What about this other brave companion 
 of the bottle? " 
 
 For Captain Sellinger's friend, on losing the support 
 of his brother toper, fell forward on the kerbstone, 
 and, not being able to get up, was fumbling about 
 stupidly in search of his sword, which he was too 
 drunk to find. 
 
 " Gentlemen," I said, " I thank you for your kindly 
 help. As for this poor man lying here, I say again 
 that he is drunk. Otherwise, pray, gentlemen, be so 
 good as to put up your swords." 
 
 So they obeyed. And the elder, with a bow, asked 
 me if I had far to go. I told him that at the end of 
 St. James's Place lived my cousin, whom I was then 
 visiting, and that I could now go home in perfect 
 safety.
 
 68 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 " Nay, Madam," he replied. " To the door at least 
 you will suffer us to attend you." 
 
 So they walked, one on either side of me, for the 
 short distance that remained. When we reached the 
 door I thanked them again and wished them good- 
 night. 
 
 " Madam," said the elder of the two, gazing into my 
 face but not boldly or impudently — the word impu- 
 dence can never, surely, be connected with him — 
 " may we, at least, learn the name of the lady — or the 
 goddess — whom we have this evening happily as- 
 sisted?" 
 
 " Sir," I replied, ashamed to be called a goddess, 
 " I am the daughter of the late Samuel Waldon, paper 
 manufacturer of Dartford in Kent. I am here on a 
 visit to my cousin Mrs. Isabel Storey, widow of my 
 father's cousin, the late Mr. Reuben Storey, American 
 merchant, of Great Tower Hill." 
 
 He received the information with a show of the 
 deepest interest, and lingered as if uncertain. 
 
 " Come, George," said the other, " we keep this lady 
 waiting on her doorstep." 
 
 So the elder of the two bowed. " Madam," he said, 
 " I humbly hope for our better acquaintance." 
 
 "I too, Madam," said the other, "venture to hope 
 for better acquaintance. If," he indicated his com- 
 panion, " this gentleman be permitted the honour of 
 calling " 
 
 "Sir," I replied, "I have no right to accept or to 
 refuse such an honour, being but a guest of my cousin." 
 
 "Sure, Miss Nancy," said the impudent Molly,
 
 The First Meeting. 69 
 
 "there are not too many young gentlemen coming to 
 the house. Do you call, gentlemen, and you will find 
 a welcome, trust me. Good-night, therefore, gentle- 
 men, and thank you for my mistress." 
 
 So they laughed and walked away. I turned my 
 head to look after them, and was punished for my curi- 
 osity like Lot's wife — for the elder of the two, he who 
 was called George, had also turned his head, and he 
 smiled and waved his hand. It made me blush to be 
 caught looking after him. 
 
 At his own door, half opened, stood Dr. Mynster- 
 chamber, the lodger of the ground floor, in his ragged 
 old gown and his head wrapped in a nightcap. The 
 man was so long and lean and so much like a vulture 
 that I shuddered whenever I met him, and this was 
 almost every time that we went out of the house or 
 returned to it. He would then open his door an 
 inch or two, poke out his hooked nose and nod his 
 head, saying, " Good-morning, fair Nancy " : or " Di- 
 vine Nancy"; or "Lovely nymph, good-day," with 
 the privilege which we accord to age. 
 
 This evening his door was opened wider than usual, 
 and his whole head came out. " Lovely Nancy," he 
 said, " the beaux are beginning. Thy train will soon 
 drive other nymphs to madness." 
 
 " I have no beaux, Dr. Mynsterchamber." 
 
 " It is a magnificent beginning. One of them, at 
 least, will come again, doubtless. Have they told 
 thee, child, who and what they are? Ha! not yet. 
 In good time. Well, history is made by women. Love 
 rules the Court ; love is victorious over the conqueror.
 
 7° A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 The Kings are led by Rosamond and Alice and Jane 
 and Nelly and Gabrielle, each in his turn ; each by one 
 at a time. For a time they have their day — their 
 little day " — his voice was like a raven's, hoarse and 
 boding ill. "Well — the candle is lit: the pretty moth 
 flies round and round : pure and clear burns the flame : 
 see ! the moth flies into it, and lies dying, all its colours 
 burned up. The story of Semele is a parable." 
 
 " I know not what you mean, Sir." 
 
 " No, no. Best not ask their names. That they 
 should come to this house — to this house — strange ! ' 
 He shut his door and retired. As I ran up the stairs, 
 I heard him muttering. His words made me uneasy. 
 What did he mean by his long list of women? Who 
 was the moth and what was the candle ? 
 
 ■* •* * * * * 
 
 " I wonder who they were," said my cousin. " So 
 Molly promised them a welcome in my name. Molly 
 is an impudent baggage. Yet, my dear, one would 
 not stand in your way. They will come to see you. 
 Oh, Nancy ! that such a lovely face was condemned to 
 go in grey, and to marry a man in drab ! Monstrous ! 
 Well, they shall have a welcome. Heaven grant they 
 may not prove to be profligates." 
 
 " They looked most virtuous, I think." 
 " Looked indeed ! Who can trust a man's looks ? 
 Last year one of them — a mere adventurer — carried 
 off an heiress, and was at Gretna Green before her 
 parents knew that she was lost. To be sure, they say 
 that she was nothing loth."
 
 The First Meeting* 7 1 
 
 " I am no heiress, cousin. Therefore no one will 
 carry me off." 
 
 " I don't know, child. There are other reasons for 
 carrying off a woman. Besides, thy father was 
 possessed of goodly bags of gold. There are hunters 
 of nymphs as well as hunters of fortune. There are' 
 in the world always young men named Lovelace. 
 Remember Clarissa, my dear." 
 
 I laid my hand on hers. " If Clarissa had lived with 
 thee, dear cousin, Lovelace would not have ventured 
 or succeeded."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 The Next Day. 
 
 In the morning Captain Sellinger presented himself, 
 making the excuses due from a gentleman. There 
 was not much repentance in his looks, but some : he 
 was not wholly without grace. His excuses were not 
 too full of self-reproach : he had not lost any self- 
 respect, because he was certainly not more drunk than 
 becomes a gentleman, as was shown by the fact that 
 he could still distinguish a lovely woman. " This," I 
 said, " was the reason why you kissed Molly, the 
 maid." The accident, he confessed, betrayed a mo- 
 mentary wandering of wits. 
 
 He owned, however, that he ought to have taken 
 my refusal seriously and allowed me to pass. And he 
 expressed himself as unfeignedly sorry for having 
 caused me the least pain. In a word, he spoke as a 
 gentleman should. 
 
 " Still, Captain Sellinger, I am pleased to think that 
 Molly boxed your ears." 
 
 " I shall call Molly out. She must give me satisfac- 
 tion. Can a man of honour sit down with ears tin- 
 gling? You say that I mistook the maid for the 
 mistress. That should be impossible in your case, 
 Miss Nancy. I have seen maids — but enough. You
 
 The Next Day. 73 
 
 say that Molly virtuously boxed my ears? Well, I 
 cannot remember. And then, suddenly, so far as 
 my memory serves me, who should jump out of the 
 ground like a Jack-in-the-box, or a ghost at Drury, but 
 the Prince of Wales himself, with his feathers on his 
 head and a naked sword in his hand ? " 
 
 "You are dreaming, Captain Sellinger." 
 
 " I suppose I am. But, Nancy, how came the 
 Prince of Wales in St. James's Place? " 
 
 " How came he in your muddled brain ? How can 
 any one account for tricks of imagination ? Besides, 
 there were two gentlemen, not one." 
 
 " Na — na — na — do not make me out sober. I saw 
 two gentlemen, which is a proof that there was but 
 one. Had there been two I should have seen four. 
 Everybody knows so much. There was one gentle- 
 man, I tell you, not two." 
 
 After the Captain came the Corporal. 
 
 Corporal Bates, also of the Guards, but not in Cap- 
 tain Sellinger's company, occupied the garrets of the 
 house with his wife and family of six little children. 
 All day long, unless it rained, the children played in 
 the Green Park, while their mother made and sewed 
 for them the clothes that they wore out as fast as 
 they could. The Corporal maintained them (but with 
 difficulty) by teaching the art of fence, the mathemat- 
 ics, drawing landscapes and houses, painting in water- 
 colours, and fine penmanship, for he was a man of 
 many accomplishments. When he was at leisure he 
 drew up plans of campaign, plans of sieges, observa- 
 tions on campaigns, and military pamphlets of all
 
 74 A Fountain Sealed* 
 
 kinds, but especially such as professed to extend the 
 power of the country. None of these learned tracts 
 would booksellers— who were in a league, he said, to 
 crush merit — publish for him. All his talk was on 
 military matters ; and he lived in the constant hope 
 (and as constant disappointment) of receiving a com- 
 mission. In a word, he was a brave, loyal, honest 
 man, who believed himself to be another Churchill, or 
 a Turenne at least, in the art of war. 
 
 Coming off duty that morning he knocked at our 
 door and appeared in his uniform, with a high hat, 
 white cross belt, and long worsted epaulettes, which 
 he played with proudly because they proclaimed his 
 rank. To be corporal is to stand on the lowest rung 
 of the ladder, but yet it is on the ladder. 
 
 " Ladies," he said, saluting us, " your most obedient 
 servant. I come to offer my respects and my condo- 
 lences. Truly I tear my hair to think that Fortune — 
 cruel Fortune — forbade me the happiness which two 
 unknown gentlemen enjoyed last night. Perhaps they 
 were not even soldiers. I venture to hope that no 
 evil consequences of the shock have ensued. Ha ! 
 had I been there — though he is Captain in my reg- 
 iment — yet he should have seen what sword-play 
 means. Captain or no Captain — even if I was broke 
 for it." He looked as valiant as Mars himself, the 
 God of War. 
 
 " Thank you, Corporal "Bates," I replied. " But it 
 was much better to have no fighting." 
 
 "As for consequences," said my cousin. "Miss 
 Nancy did not even swoon, which proves her courage ;
 
 The Next Day. 75 
 
 and Molly assures me that her own appetite is unim- 
 paired, which proves her insensibility. Yet she was 
 kissed." 
 
 " It is my sorrow, ladies," he repeated, bringing his 
 feet into position, " that I was not so favoured as to 
 be on the spot. In such a case, my commission they 
 could not choose but grant me as a reward." 
 
 " Courage, Corporal. Another occasion will per- 
 haps present itself." 
 
 " Madam, you will perhaps go again to evening 
 prayers. The Church bell is the ladies' call of duty: 
 it is their reveille. I most humbly offer my services as 
 escort. I presume not to walk beside my convoy — 
 I will walk behind with a drawn sword and a proud 
 heart." 
 
 Here, at least, was devotion and gratitude. One 
 would willingly be frightened a little if only to draw 
 forth such proof of kind hearts. 
 
 "But, Corporal, valour, even when it has no chance 
 of proving itself, deserves reward." My cousin took 
 from the cupboard a bottle of port and a glass. " Sir, 
 you must be thirsty." 
 
 " In the presence of Beauty, Madam, every soldier 
 is thirsty." I do not know what he meant by this aph- 
 orism. " I drink your health, Madam — Miss Nancy, 
 when Virginal distress next calls for the hero's arm, 
 may I be there to help ! " 
 
 Our next visitor that day was Mr. Robert Storey, 
 the bookseller of St. James's Street. He was cousin 
 to Isabel's late husband ; yet his branch of the family 
 belonged not to the Society. He was at this time
 
 7 6 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 still a young man, not more than eight-and-twenty, 
 having succeeded to his father's business two or three 
 years before. In his dress he aimed at the outward 
 semblance of the substantial citizen • he would be 
 taken for one known on 'Change ; therefore his coat 
 was of black velvet, his stockings of white silk, and his 
 buckles of silver; at his throat and wrists he wore fine 
 white lace; his buttons were of silver, and silver lace 
 adorned his hat ; his powdered hair was tied behind 
 with a large black silk bow ; a bunch of seals hung from 
 his fob ; a gold ring was on one finger ; and he carried a 
 gold-headed cane. He stood at the door for a mo- 
 ment in a studied attitude : in his right hand he held 
 his hat over his heart : in his left he held the gold- 
 headed cane : he brought his feet into the dancing- 
 master's first position,, that which shows the white 
 silk stockings and the shape of a good leg to advan- 
 tage. He was, in fact, a personable young man of fair 
 stature and reasonable face, though his eyes were too 
 close together. He bowed low, first to his cousin, and 
 then to myself. 
 
 "Cousin Storey," he said, "your most obedient. 
 Miss Nancy, your most humble." 
 
 Then he came in and sat down. In all his actions 
 and all his words, Robert Storey still preserved the 
 air of one who performs a duty properly. He now 
 held himself upright in his chair : his legs crossed : his 
 left hand plunged into his waistcoat, his right hand 
 free for gesture. 
 
 His shop in Pall Mall, which we often visited, was 
 large and filled with books : folios on the lower
 
 The Next Day. 77 
 
 shelves : quartos on the middle : and octavos on the 
 higher. It was all day filled with book collectors, 
 poets, scholars, divines, and certain persons for whom 
 he entertained a profound contempt, yet employed 
 them constantly, called booksellers' hacks. They are 
 persons, it appears, who have some tincture of learn- 
 ing but none of genius : they are cursed with an 
 ardent desire to write, a desire which unfits them for 
 any honourable employment ; yet they cannot with 
 all their efforts depict the passions, move the heart, or 
 fire the imagination. They compile books which 
 those who cannot distinguish treat seriously : such as 
 essays for the magazine, at a guinea the sheet, poetry 
 by subscription, translations of ancient poets already 
 translated a hundred times, histories copied from bet- 
 ter historians, travels in foreign countries (never hav- 
 ing left their own), sermons for clergymen who cannot 
 compose — in a word, they are hacks ready to do all 
 kinds of work at any pay that they can get. It is 
 needless to add that they will advocate any cause, 
 write on any side, and — still at a guinea a sheet — 
 would defend even the fallen angels. 
 
 Robert came often to visit us in the evening after 
 his shop was shut. Sometimes he read to us; some- 
 times he spoke of the poets, who made of his shop a 
 kind of Apollo's Walk. It must be confessed that, 
 although he despised the tribe of hacks, he spoke al- 
 ways with reverence of those scholars and poets and 
 wits whose productions lend a lustre to this age — such 
 men, I mean, as Samuel Johnson, Dr. Warburton, 
 Lord Lyttelton, Henry Fielding, Tobias Smollett, the
 
 78 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 Reverend Laurence Sterne, and David Garrick, if one 
 may include a mere actor with these illustrious names. 
 
 More often, however, Robert brought us news of 
 the great world, with anecdotes and scandals, which 
 he produced one by one, as a child picks out plums. 
 His shop, in fact, was a greater home for gossip and 
 scandal than even a barber's : scholars and men of 
 letters, I verily believe, love talking as much as wo- 
 men. He would deliver himself of these items slowly 
 and with intervals : and he was fond of concluding 
 any one, when he could, with a moral or a religious 
 observation. 
 
 This evening, however, he had no opportunity, for my 
 cousin instantly poured into his ears the story of my 
 adventure. He received it with a good man's horror. 
 
 " This," he exclaimed at length, as carried away by 
 righteous indignation, " appears to me one of the 
 most flagitious acts ever attempted by a profligate 
 aristocracy." 
 
 " Mr. Robert," I told him, somewhat surprised at 
 his heat, " the Captain was overcome with drink and 
 knew not what he did." 
 
 "Your ignorance, Miss Nancy," he replied with a 
 smile, " enables you to undertake the defence of that 
 bad man. The business seems to me (I am necessarily 
 acquainted with much of the wickedness of the world) 
 arranged beforehand : two men pretend to be drunk : 
 they waylay a young gentlewoman : two others pre- 
 tend to rescue her. The conspiracy is quite easy to 
 carry out, if one has the wickedness to devise it and 
 the daring to carry it through."
 
 The Next Day. 79 
 
 " That, Mr. Storey," I replied, " seems, if I may say 
 so, nonsense, because how could they know when we 
 should pass ? Besides, the Captain was really drunk." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders and bowed his head. 
 
 " Miss Nancy," he said, " has, I know, been already 
 remarked. I have heard observations upon her singu- 
 lar beauty in my shop — from Doctors of Divinity. If 
 these reverend persons observe the beauty of a lady, 
 be sure that the profligate beaux and sparks of this 
 end of town have also done the same thing. How- 
 ever, let us hope that the business is finished." 
 
 " On the contrary, Robert," said my cousin, " these 
 gentlemen have expressed a desire, which does us 
 great honour, to improve their acquaintance." 
 
 " Ay ? Ay? Dear! Dear! The wickedness of 
 this part of town is terrible : yet I have five satirists 
 in verse and eleven in prose on my books and in my 
 pay at this moment lashing the vices of the Great. 
 There is also a sermon every Sunday at St. James's. 
 Well, ladies, this is a very serious affair. You will 
 have to place it in my hands. Believe me, I shall do 
 justice to the occasion." 
 
 " It seems to me," I said, " that these are two well- 
 bred gentlemen who desire to pay their respects to 
 ladies who are indebted to them. I cannot under- 
 stand, Mr. Storey, either your heat or your charges 
 of deceit and wickedness. Is it not better to believe 
 that a man is honourable until he shows that he is 
 not ? " 
 
 " My dear young lady, you know nothing, believe 
 me. And my cousin here knows little more. How
 
 80 A Fountain Sealed* 
 
 can you know the kind of company into which you 
 may be led ?" 
 
 " We have at least read ' Clarissa,' " said Isabel. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Richardson knows how to teach and 
 warn the female heart. Without raising a blush to 
 your cheek, Miss Nancy, I cannot describe the com- 
 pany into which you may fall. Know, however, that 
 these young Sprigs of Quality (if such indeed is their 
 station) live in a world which is different indeed from 
 our own. So much so that we cannot get into it, if 
 we would. I thank the Lord, however, that I desire 
 not to exchange my station for theirs. We are hon- 
 est workers, they are unprofitable drones : we make 
 wealth, they consume it : we live with measure and 
 decorum, they without rule or order : we save, they 
 spend : we take thought for the morrow, their morrow 
 is assured : we live for the world to come, they for 
 the world that is : we fear God and keep His com- 
 mandments, they continue as if there were no com- 
 mandments at all : we are constant in our affections, 
 they continually mislead and deceive trusting women. 
 Miss Nancy, seek not further acquaintance with these 
 young men. They are so far above you, indeed, that 
 they are infinitely below you." 
 
 The last sentence so pleased him, inasmuch as it 
 sounded like a paradox from one of his essayists, that 
 he repeated it. The words impressed me at the mo- 
 ment as anything said sonorously which one does not 
 understand sometimes does impress a hearer — you 
 may hear such things in church. If you think of it, 
 however, it is a foolish thing to say, for it means that
 
 The Next Day. 81 
 
 the higher is a man's rank the more corrupt does he 
 become : in which case his Most Sacred Majesty him- 
 self — but I hesitate to write the words. 
 
 " Ladies," he went on, " it is your singular privilege, 
 also, to belong to this same class, which is as much 
 above the common herd as it is below the nobility. 
 What, to you, are the attractions of fashion and of 
 rank ? These two gentlemen hope to get a footing in 
 this house by an open and palpable trick, which they 
 have learned from a novel of intrigue (unhappily there 
 are such novels, but not published by me). What sort 
 of reception should they meet ? From me, if I were 
 here, they would hear the truth." He rose and stood 
 in an attitude of one who rebukes. " ' Retire,' I 
 should say, 'Retire in confusion '" — he stood up and 
 pointed to the door — " ' from this house of Virtue 
 and Religion. Leave unmolested the Daughters of 
 Innocence who adorn this house. Retire! Repent of 
 designs conceived in wickedness, or carry those de- 
 signs to places which are more fit for their attempt.' 
 These are the words, ladies — or words to this effect — 
 which I should feel it absolutely necessary to use, on 
 your behalf, were these gentlemen in my presence to 
 attempt an entrance." 
 
 More he would have added, in the same elevated 
 strain, for as a moraliser Robert Storey had no equal. 
 But at that moment Molly came running upstairs and 
 threw open the door, crying, without any ceremony, 
 " Madam ! Miss Nancy ! The two young gentlemen 
 are here ! " 
 
 And so, her honest face grinning from ear to ear,
 
 82 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 she withdrew, and our two gallant rescuers ap- 
 peared. 
 
 We all rose. 
 
 " Madam," the elder spoke, bowing first to my 
 cousin and then to me, " we have ventured to call, in 
 order to ask if Miss Nancy hath recovered from the 
 shock and affright of yesterday." 
 
 " Nay, Sir," I said. " If you call that a fright 
 which was but an affair of a moment, thanks to your 
 courage " 
 
 " Nancy," my cousin interposed, " was naturally 
 indisposed at first, but with the aid of a little cherry 
 brandy, she speedily recovered." 
 
 I hastened to present her by name. " Gentlemen, 
 this is my cousin, Mrs. Storey, widow of the late Reu- 
 ben Storey, American merchant, of Great Tower 
 Hill." 
 
 They bowed low again. "And this is Mr. Robert 
 Storey." They inclined their heads slightly with a 
 look of condescension — as if I had introduced Molly 
 my maid. They were dressed as the day before, but 
 their swords they had left outside on the landing. 
 
 We then sat down, and I waited with some trepida- 
 tion for Robert's promised harangue. Alas! there 
 would be no harangue. The poor man stood confused 
 and terrified. His face expressed this confusion : his 
 hands hung stupidly : his stiffness and resolution had 
 gone out of him. Where was the proper pride of the 
 bookseller, which should have sustained him even 
 in the presence of a Baron ? Gone : it had left him. 
 When the rest of us sat down he remained standing:
 
 The Next Day. 3 3 
 
 he appeared unable to decide what to do : he opened 
 his mouth and gasped : as for the words of fire where 
 were they? Then he stammered a confused good- 
 night to his cousin, bowed low to the gentlemen, and 
 retired, falling ignominiously over the mat as he went 
 out. So there was an end to the grand appeal in the 
 name of virtue.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 "My Brother, Sir George. 
 
 tf 
 
 When Mr. Robert Storey left us, in this sudden 
 and surprising manner, before we resumed our chairs, 
 the younger of the two visitors introduced his brother 
 and himself. 
 
 " Madam," addressing my cousin, " our anxiety for 
 the safety of Miss Nancy may, we hope, excuse our 
 presumption in calling. Let me present to you my 
 brother, Sir George Le Breton : I am myself — Mr. 
 Edward Le Breton, of His Majesty's Navy. And, 
 believe me, we are both very much at your service." 
 
 Sir George bowed low and looked about the room 
 curiously, as if he were in some strange place. 
 
 "Gentlemen," my cousin replied, smiling sweetly — 
 most grateful in her mind that she was arrayed becom- 
 ingly ! " I am indeed gratified by this honour, the 
 more so as it enables me to express my sense of your 
 gallantry last night." 
 
 They both disclaimed any cause for gratitude, and, 
 compliments finished, we sat down and began to talk. 
 
 " My brother," said the sailor, " is a country gentle- 
 man, so that he can stay at home while I go plough- 
 ing the salt wave." 
 
 While he spoke, his brother was looking about the
 
 "My Brother, Sir George." $5 
 
 room with curiosity. He appeared not to hear this 
 remark. 
 
 " To be a country gentleman," said my cousin, " is 
 a great thing. May I ask, Sir " — she addressed Sir 
 George — " in what county lies your estate ? " 
 
 Sir George started, and changed colour. 
 
 " I have property," he replied in some confusion — 
 I know not why — " chiefly in Berks and Wilts : but 
 also elsewhere " 
 
 The elder brother was at that time in the first flush 
 of early manhood : he was tall and strongly made : he 
 was much stronger, one would judge from his breadth 
 and height, than the ordinary run of young men : his 
 lips and mouth spoke of firmness : his features were 
 regular and large : he moved and spoke with an un- 
 mistakable air of authority, yet his eyes, swift to 
 change, betrayed the gentleness and softness of his 
 heart: although at a time of life when youth is at its 
 best and the spirits are at their highest, he wore an 
 habitual expression of seriousness, as of one who con- 
 templates grave responsibilities. His cheek betrayed 
 by its rosy hue his splendid health. 
 
 It must not be supposed that this summary of his 
 appearance could have been written after the first day 
 of conversation. Not at all. I write down the de- 
 scription of the man as I learned to know him in three 
 months of his society and conversation. 
 
 I must call the second, as he presently begged me to 
 do, being always of a frank and even fraternal kindli- 
 ness, by his Christian name. Not, therefore, Captain 
 Le Breton, but Edward. As for him, vivacity was
 
 86 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 stamped upon his face; he was animated in speech, 
 in look, in movement ; he was always happy ; he 
 seemed to laugh whenever he spoke ; not so much at 
 the wit or humour of what was said, as that, being 
 perfectly happy, he must needs laugh. Yet he could 
 at any moment assume an air of authority almost as 
 profound as that of his brother. In appearance he was 
 smaller and slighter ; his dress, which was that of a naval 
 officer, of blue cloth with white facings, gold buttons, 
 and a scarlet sash, was much less splendid than the 
 silk coat worn by his brother. Yet it seemed to befit 
 his character, which was entirely simple and trustful. 
 And as his own soul was incapable of aught that was 
 mean, disloyal, or treacherous, so he believed that 
 most of the world was created after the same mould. 
 I think, for my own part, that he who is thus consti- 
 tuted, and can so regard his fellows, is far more likely 
 to obtain such happiness as the world affords than one 
 who regards every other man as a rogue and a traitor : 
 who finds mean motives in the noblest actions : and 
 guards himself at every point against the possible 
 treachery of a friend. 
 
 The discourse on this, their first visit, was much more 
 formal than it afterwards became. Our friends mani- 
 fested some curiosity as to the Society of Friends 
 (Isabel made haste to explain our connection with that 
 body), of which they had never before seen any mem- 
 bers. 
 
 " I thought," said Sir George, " that there had been 
 some distinction in dress. I heard something of a 
 leather doublet which was never changed."
 
 "My Brother, Sir George." 87 
 
 " There were formerly extravagances," my cousin 
 replied. " These have now settled down into a dress 
 of drab for the men and of drab or grey for the wo- 
 men. They wear no ornaments, as they practise no 
 arts." 
 
 " Miss Nancy is, therefore, not a Quakeress." 
 
 " She has not yet left the Society. While she stays 
 with me she dresses as fashion orders. When my 
 husband died I went back to the Church of England, 
 in which I was born." 
 
 " Madam," said Sir George very earnestly,, "permit 
 me to say that you are quite right. There can be no 
 form of faith in which we can find so much happiness 
 or such solid assurance for the future. And there is 
 no other form of faith in which there have been and 
 are still so many scholars, divines, and philosophers." 
 
 " Add to which," his brother said, " that we must 
 not let Miss Nancy resume the grey and drab, or she 
 will make that fashion immortal. As it is, I look to 
 see no change in the present fashion while Miss 
 Nancy adorns it." 
 
 I take pleasure in remembering the little extrava- 
 gances which please at the time, because they are ex- 
 travagant, yet mean nothing. 
 
 " Perhaps," said my cousin, " Nancy may be per- 
 suaded not to return to the garb of the Quakeress." 
 
 " Grey and drab — 'tis the habit of a nun. Miss 
 Nancy, we cannot believe that you were intended for 
 a nunnery." 
 
 So we talked on all kinds of things. Sir George ad- 
 mired my cousin's pictures, and examined them more
 
 88 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 closely, my cousin explaining them. Mr. Edward and 
 I talked meanwhile. He asked me what people I 
 knew or visited about St. James's ; he expressed his 
 surprise that he had never met or seen us anywhere. 
 
 " Sir," I said, " I am not only a Quakeress, but also 
 the daughter of a manufacturer. On either ground I 
 can have no place in the fashionable world. We live 
 here, in the midst of noble people, but have no friends 
 among them." 
 
 "Yet I swear," he replied, laughing, "there is not 
 anywhere one better fitted to grace a Court." 
 
 Sir George had finished his round of the walls, and 
 now stood beside me and heard these words. 
 
 " Why," said Sir George, " you miss all the scandal. 
 This kind of life is full of scandals. You are happy 
 not to know how much Lady Betty lost last night at 
 ombre, and how Lady Charlotte has run away with 
 her groom. Pray, Madam, do not change in this par- 
 ticular. Do not let Miss Nancy join the goodly com- 
 pany of Scandal." 
 
 Presently turning over a portfolio of engravings, we 
 came upon one of a sea-fight. " Why," cried Edward, 
 " I myself am a mere tarpaulin. I ought to have 
 come in my petticoats." So he took up the picture 
 and began to talk about sea-fights, of which he had 
 seen more than one ; of engagements on land, and of 
 tempests and shipwrecks. Alas ! what a gallant lad 
 he was, and how the colour rose to his cheeks and the 
 light of his eye fired as he sprang to his feet and 
 cheered the striking of the enemy's flag ! His brother 
 listened, as much moved as ourselves. " Happy the
 
 "My Brother, Sir George." 89 
 
 land," he said, " happy the King for whom these 
 brave fellows fight ! " 
 
 "Yet I was taught to believe that all fighting is un- 
 christian," I said. " Our people hold the doctrine 
 of non-resistance. They obey the Gospel precept. 
 They turn the other cheek." 
 
 Sir George replied slowly : " Why, then, if fighting 
 is unchristian, where is patriotism or loyalty ? Where 
 is the honour that despises death ? Where is the sac- 
 rifice of personal advantage? It may be that the 
 time may come when the lion will lie down with the 
 lamb : believe me, ladies, that time is not yet. For 
 private slights and insults it may even be possible, 
 with some, to turn the other cheek. As yet, how- 
 ever, the words are to be taken as a prophecy rather 
 than a command." 
 
 At nine o'clock Molly brought up supper. At the 
 appearance of the tray, my cousin appeared anxious, 
 but her countenance cleared when she saw what was 
 on it. For our supper was commonly a slice or two 
 of bread with a little soft cheese and a glass of wine. 
 This incomparable Molly, finding that the gentlemen 
 did not withdraw, stepped round to Rider Street, 
 behind St. James's Street, and returned with a cold 
 roast chicken, some slices of ham, a greengage pie, 
 and two or three tarts — it was not for nothing that 
 the maid had lived with a wealthy Quaker, at whose 
 house, though the outlook of the soul was doubtful 
 that of the body was always secured. Well might my 
 cousin change countenance at the sight of so dainty 
 a supper, which, when laid out on the clean white
 
 9° A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 cloth, with the blue china and glass, the silver spoons, 
 and the ivory-handled steel forks of which my cousin 
 was justly proud — and embellished with a bottle of 
 Madeira, her late husband's best — was a supper to 
 tempt a nobleman. 
 
 " P ra y> gentlemen," she cried with smiling mock 
 humility, "do not leave us" — for they both rose at 
 sight of the supper — "to our simple meal. I have but 
 what you see, but indeed you will make us happy if 
 you partake of it with us." 
 
 So they sat down, and my cousin carved, while 
 Edward poured out the wine, not touching his glass 
 until his brother had first tasted. "This," he said, 
 "is a feast for the gods. Ah, ladies, could you but 
 behold us a thousand miles at sea with our salt junk 
 and our weevilly biscuit ! I thank you, Madam : the 
 leg was ever my favourite part of the bird : let me give 
 you a slice of ham. Brother, you let your glass stand 
 too long — he is but a one-legged creature : he bears 
 too heavy a load : lighten him a little. Miss Nancy 
 — nay — one more glass." I think I see him now — 
 making so much of this grand feast — laughing and 
 talking. " On Saturday night," he said, " we give our- 
 selves a little happiness in drinking to our mistresses : 
 but it is a shadowy joy : a winter's sunshine, which 
 only pretends to warm. This ham, Madam, must 
 have graced a porker of Westphalia. The Madeira 
 has been more than once to India — that I dare affirm 
 without taking an oath in the presence of Miss Nancy." 
 
 " It has been three times to India," said my cousin 
 proudly. " My husband was choice in his wine."
 
 u 
 
 My Brother, Sir George/* 91 
 
 Supper over, they invited us to play on the harpsi- 
 chord. My cousin obeyed, and I saw that Sir George 
 possessed a soul sensible to the power of music. My 
 cousin played with great taste and skill : she played, 
 first of all, some of the music of that famous composer, 
 Handel ; then she changed the theme, and played in 
 a lighter strain. Both our visitors listened intently : 
 but the elder was more moved. Then she struck into 
 the air of a song. 
 
 " Shall Nancy sing to you ? " she asked. " I prom- 
 ise you she hath a charming voice, though as yet it 
 is not completely trained." 
 
 They begged and entreated, though I would will- 
 ingly have been excused. So, while she played an 
 accompaniment, I sang a song which she had taught 
 me. The words were her own, set to the air called 
 " Drink to me only with thine eyes." Isabel wrote the 
 words herself one day after discoursing with me on the 
 wickedness of forbidding music to the people called 
 Quakers. She called the song " Life and Song " — 
 
 The thrushes sing from yonder wood, 
 
 The lark from yofider sky ; 
 And all day long the sweet wind's song 
 
 Among the leaves doth lie. 
 Oh ! gently touch the magic string, 
 
 Let soft strains rise and fall, 
 So that our thoughts in concert sing 
 
 With birds and leaves and all. 
 
 The birds love sun and light and air . 
 
 The glories of the day : 
 The living things, both foul and fair, 
 
 Rejoice to live alway.
 
 92 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 Oh ! gently touch the magic string ; 
 
 Let soft strains rise and fall : 
 So that our songs of praise we sing 
 
 In concert with them all. 
 
 The birds they sing : the birds they love: 
 
 List I mate his mate invites. 
 All living things around, above, 
 
 They know the same delights. 
 Oh ! gently touch the magic string, 
 
 Let soft strains rise and fall : 
 So that our hearts of love may sing 
 
 In concert with them all. 
 
 " Let me thank you, Miss Nancy. Such a voice, 
 with such a face, is rarely seen." It was Sir George 
 who spoke. " Perhaps we may have the happiness of 
 hearing another song." 
 
 " No, gentlemen," Isabel said, shutting the harpsi- 
 chord. "We would not tire your ears. If it pleases 
 you to come again, Nancy shall sing again and I will 
 play to you. And now let me offer you a simple glass 
 of punch. It is a custom of the City, to which both 
 my father and my husband belonged." 
 
 " Willingly, Madam." Edward spoke in the name 
 of his brother, for both. " Most willingly, especially 
 if you will permit me to make it, as we make it at sea 
 — I think you will own that even servants taught by 
 you cannot make punch so well as a sailor. Afar from 
 l OV e — torn from his sweetheart — what comfort for the 
 sailor but his punch ? " 
 
 So Molly brought the hot water, the lemons, sugar, 
 spice, and the rum in a decanter, with the punch bowl
 
 "My Brother, Sir George." 93 
 
 — be sure that it was Isabel's best punch bowl — that 
 reserved by her husband for the refreshment of the 
 pious company which frequented his house — and a 
 beautiful bowl it was, thin as an egg, painted with 
 flowers, gilt-edged, and, if you struck it lightly, giving 
 out a note as clear as a bell and almost as loud. 
 
 You could imagine that the making of punch was a 
 mighty mystery, so great was the attention bestowed 
 upon it by the maker of it. He pushed back his ruffles ; 
 he spread out his materials around him : then, with an 
 air of boundless importance, he began. 
 
 There is this difference between men and women, 
 that whatever men like to do it is with a will : they put 
 into it, for the time, all their heart ; women, on the 
 other hand, save for what touches their affections and 
 their dress, do everything as if it mattered not whether 
 it was ill done or well done. No woman could possi- 
 bly think that in the brewing of punch so much care 
 was necessary. To be sure I have seen equal care be- 
 stowed (by a man) upon the boiling of an egg or the 
 composition of a sallet. 
 
 First he cut his lemons ; then he rubbed the bowl 
 with the rind ; after this he opened the decanter and 
 sniffed at the contents. " Ha ! " he said, " I have not 
 been in the Navy for nothing. This is right Barba- 
 does ; your true West Indian spirit — twenty years old, 
 if it is a day. Your lamented husband, dear Madam, 
 knew punch as well as Madeira ! " 
 
 " He also knew Port and Rhenish and Canary — and, 
 indeed every wine there is. He had no equal as a 
 connoisseur."
 
 94 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 "It is to be hoped " — Edward began to squeeze his 
 lemons — " that where he now goes to Meeting, these 
 gifts will not be wasted." Then he put in the rum : 
 added a glass or two of Madeira: measured out the 
 sugar and the spice with anxious eyes : and lastly, 
 poured over all the hot water. Then he placed the 
 spoon in my hand, and begged me to stir it. " For," 
 he said, "the one thing that is lacking at sea is the 
 light touch of a woman's hand. Believe me, Miss 
 Nancy, there is a persuasiveness in the stirring of the 
 bowl by a lovely woman which induces the materials 
 to combine and mix with a will and a completeness, 
 which not even the youngest volunteer at sea can in- 
 duce." 
 
 So I stirred, laughing, and presently Edward de- 
 clared the punch ready, and, indeed, thanks to my 
 stirring, perfection. 
 
 He poured out five full glasses and bestowed one 
 upon each, including Molly, who stood by wondering 
 and pleased. Then he stood up and addressed his 
 brother. " George," he said, " a toast." 
 
 " I drink," said George, " to the fair Quakeress, Miss 
 Nancy." So, with a little maidenly blush which be- 
 came him, he drank half a glass and set it down. But 
 his brother drank two glasses one after the other, say- 
 ing that the toast deserved nine times nine. 
 
 Then, for it was now already ten o'clock, they de- 
 parted, promising that they would speedily call again. 
 
 " The elder," said my cousin, when they were gone, 
 " is a young man whose face announces, unless I am 
 mistaken, both honour and resolution — I think that he
 
 i STIKkED, laughing. ' — Page 97.
 
 "My Brother, Sir George* " 95 
 
 is rich because his brother deferred so deeply to his 
 opinion. Younger brothers do not so regard their 
 elders where there is no estate to inherit. I observed, 
 Nancy, that while the younger brother talked and 
 laughed, the elder sat gazing tenderly." 
 
 "Nay, cousin, at his first visit? Curiously, per- 
 haps. He looked about the room with a strange curi- 
 osity. He seemed unaccustomed to such rooms as 
 these." 
 
 "Well, child, unless I am mistaken, it was — ten- 
 derly." 
 
 "Isabel! What can he know of my mind?" 
 
 " Truly, very little, my dear, unless the face pro- 
 claims the mind, in which case he need be under no 
 apprehensions. Nancy, child, it is not a woman's 
 mind that a young man inquires after : her face, to him, 
 proclaims her mind : her lovely face, my dear, and her 
 bewitching form proclaim possible virtues and all pos- 
 sible wisdom."
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 The Opinions of a Gentleman. 
 
 EVERY woman is at heart a match-maker. This 
 proposition is generally advanced as an accusation or 
 charge against the sex. On the contrary, it should be 
 considered as a part of the eulogy which must be 
 pronounced on women by every candid man. For, 
 that every woman should be a match-maker proves 
 the natural kindness of her heart, and that in spite of 
 the (so-called) feminine jealousies commonly attrib- 
 uted to her. Nothing is more desired, or more desir- 
 able, by a woman than love : all her instincts lead her 
 to desire love : it is love that raises weak woman to 
 be mistress instead of servant : nay, it is love that 
 makes her a willing and happy servant, though the 
 mistress: it is love that distinguishes and glorifies 
 her : it is love that makes her live by the work of 
 other hands not her own : it is love that gives her 
 more than the full share of her lover's good fortune, 
 and enables her to mitigate and console him in adver- 
 sity : it is love that removes from her the loneliness 
 of the soul apart : finally, it is love, and love alone — 
 even past love — which lifts her out of the apparent 
 insignificance of her lot. 
 
 Every woman knows this : if every woman, know-
 
 The Opinions of a Gentleman. 97 
 
 ing this, desires that another woman should be loved 
 as well as herself, then must every woman's heart be 
 truly soft and kind, and anxious for the general hap- 
 piness. 
 
 My cousin was no exception to the rule. She as- 
 sumed from the outset that love brought these two 
 gentlemen to visit us. Why else should they come? 
 "My dear," said Isabel; "one of them is in love 
 with a certain person. Of that we may be assured. 
 The other comes, I suppose — unless he, too, is in love 
 — to lend support and countenance." 
 
 " I do not know," I replied, being as yet unmoved. 
 "They make no signs of love. What is a woman to 
 do whose lover, if there is one, makes no sign?" 
 
 "I cannot tell which it is" — we were still at the 
 outset. " Nothing astonishes me more than this diffi- 
 culty. Sometimes I think it is one : sometimes I 
 think it is the other. I have seen the elder brother 
 gazing upon you the whole evening through : the 
 next day, perhaps, it is the younger. However, let 
 us have patience. The flame will break out before 
 long. Meantime let us attend, my dear, with even 
 greater solicitude, to our ribbons and our rags." 
 
 It is not difficult to study the mode when one lives 
 in St. James's : one has but to walk down the street, 
 which is filled all day with fine people : or in St. 
 James's Park : or in the Green Park ; to see how the 
 ladies of fashion dress and rouge and patch. 
 
 " We are by right but City Madams," said Isabel. 
 "We ought to be living within the sound of Bow 
 Bells ; yet we can show as well as any how a fine
 
 98 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 woman may set off her charms. And as for charms, 
 my Nancy, what can they display at Court — in face 
 or figure — finer than can a certain person, who shall 
 be nameless ? " 
 
 At first this kind of talk shamed me. Was, I asked, 
 a woman to be praised according to her points, like a 
 horse or a dog ? Did love mean nothing more than 
 admiration of these points ? 
 
 " Nay," said my wise cousin. " We have Nature 
 behind us, and before us, and within us always. We 
 build upon Nature. Dress, for instance, keeps us 
 warm, but we do not wrap ourselves in a blanket : we 
 build the structure called Fashion upon that blanket. 
 Love begins with the attraction of beauty, but with 
 civilised beings it doth not end there. My husband 
 once owned that first he loved me for my face, which 
 he was pleased to admire ; but afterwards he found 
 other things — those which belong to the understand- 
 ing—which he also admired. Yet a lovely face must 
 ever give a woman the highest advantage. Do not 
 despise Nature, my dear." 
 
 I understand, now, that she was right. After all, it 
 is easy for a girl to be reconciled to the rulings of 
 nature when she has been endowed with what men 
 call charms. 
 
 "A man, in a word," Isabel continued, "is first 
 caught by a face and afterwards fixed — if ever he can 
 be fixed — by the heart, or the mind, or the capability, 
 or some other charm, real or imaginary, of which the 
 world knows nothing. Thus fixed, it is for life. My 
 dear, the only man a woman of sensibility as well as
 
 The Opinions of a Gentleman. 99 
 
 beauty has to fear is the dull man — the stupid man 
 — who cannot understand more than what he sees, 
 and, when he tires of one face, flies off to another. 
 Now let us go back to where we began, that is, our 
 ribbons and our rags." 
 
 Every one will believe me, I am sure, when I con- 
 fess that, although a Quakeress by breeding, I quickly 
 discovered how great a pleasure may be found in con- 
 sidering dress and fashion : stuffs and shape : trim- 
 mings and ribbons : to sit in a shop and have spread 
 out before you dazzling things in flowered silks, satin, 
 brocade, or velvet : to imagine a frock glorified with 
 ribbons, lace, and trimmings : to choose : to order : 
 to try on before a long glass : I confess that to my 
 newly awakened sense it was enchanting. Every 
 woman will understand me. But let no man, except 
 those of the Society, blame me : let him try to under- 
 stand that a woman's dress is far more to her than his 
 own can be to him : to the latter it is always, more or 
 less, his working dress, like the leathern apron of the 
 blacksmith ; the sign of his occupation, like the red 
 cap of the brewer, or the brown paper cap of the car- 
 penter : or his fighting dress, like the cuirass and the 
 helmet. In a woman dress is never intended for work 
 but for adornment : in youth it proclaims, and en- 
 shrines, and sets off the newly blossomed flower of her 
 beauty : and in age it conceals, as well as it can, the 
 decay and final disappearance of beauty. It also pro- 
 claims her wealth and her rank. To be sure I had no 
 rank, yet my cousin dressed me as fine as any coun- 
 tess, and when we walked in the park the other women
 
 ioo A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 stared at us with the rudeness of envy, or the equal 
 rudeness of curiosity. Even the highest rank, I have 
 learned by this experience, does not always confer 
 good breeding. It is not well bred, even for a duchess, 
 to stare after a new-comer with the air of asking what 
 right she has to appear among a well-dressed com- 
 pany, herself well dressed. 
 
 I am not therefore ashamed to confess that during 
 this period I spent much time standing before the 
 mirror, or sitting at the counter of the mercer's shop. 
 
 "Cousin," I said, "what if my brother should see 
 me now?" 'Twas when my first really fine frock 
 came home, and I stood in grandeur, hoop and all, 
 ready to sally forth into the park. 
 
 " Quakeress," she laughed, speaking in the old 
 style. " Will thee still be thinking about thy brother? 
 Thee are but a goose. I do not think that some one 
 will ever suffer thee to go back to him." 
 
 Did I, then, lay myself out, consciously, to attract 
 and captivate a man, like the woman in the Book 
 of Proverbs? Nay: that can I never confess. Sure 
 I am that if any woman should read this page, she 
 will forgive me for wishing to appear becomingly 
 dressed. 
 
 These friends of ours called upon us a second time : 
 and a third time : and again and again : they made 
 excuses for calling: they brought presents — an en- 
 graving for my cousin : some fine silver-work from 
 India for me : a book, because we loved books — al- 
 ways something new. Of course when they had offered 
 their gifts, they sat down and talked. After a week
 
 
 i 
 
 i r ) , 
 
 "•"'": 
 
 " MANY TIMES AS WE WALKED WITH THEM, PEOPLE GAZED 
 
 rn in us curiously." — Page TOT.
 
 The Opinions of a Gentleman. tot 
 
 or two, they came every day, either in the morning or 
 in the evening. 
 
 In August the fashionable part of town is empty. 
 The great people come up from the country in Janu- 
 ary and leave in June. The park is therefore nearly 
 empty during that month. Sometimes we walked 
 with our friends in the deserted paths of St. James's 
 Park : sometimes we saw the soldiers exercising in the 
 Green Park : sometimes we watched the Trooping of 
 the Colour at St. James's Palace. Many times as we 
 walked with them, Sir George beside me, and Edward 
 with Isabel, hats were taken off and people gazed upon 
 us curiously, especially upon me. " They are, I sup- 
 pose," he would say carelessly, " acquaintances of 
 mine. A great many people know me. Not every- 
 body. Yet they gaze upon you, Miss Nancy, for very 
 good reasons which I need not explain." 
 
 Meantime, I could no longer disguise from myself 
 
 » 
 
 the knowledge that Sir George came to see me, and 
 that the brother came simply to accompany him. 
 And it was manifest that the younger brother's defer- 
 ence to the elder was always most marked and un- 
 usual. On the other hand, Sir George accepted this 
 deference as if it were his due — yet not arrogantly. 
 
 I have told you that Sir George was a young man 
 of singularly fine appearance. Let me talk about him 
 again. His large and open face showed the nobility 
 of his soul : honour, truth, loyalty, bravery, were 
 stamped upon it ; his eyes were always full of light, 
 and — oh ! to think of it ! — I have seen them full of 
 love and tenderness. He wore his hair powdered and
 
 io2 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 tied behind in a bow of black ribbon ; his gold lace, 
 his gold buckles, were of the finest ; his dress was that 
 of a rich young man. In his speech he was rapid, but 
 authoritative ; his voice was musical and sweet. 
 
 In his manner he was extremely affable : he wore 
 habitually the gracious smile that belongs to a good 
 heart. I have since learned that he could be peremp- 
 tory, and even harsh on occasions : as when his orders 
 were not obeyed. For myself, I cannot understand 
 how he could ever be harsh. The mere look of re- 
 proach in those eyes, always so kindly, would have 
 made me sink into the earth. 
 
 It is a pleasure for me to recall some of the opinions 
 and judgments which he delivered in my presence ; 
 and, indeed, addressed chiefly to myself. And since 
 it is interesting to the world to know what were the 
 private sentiments and the opinions of a great man in 
 his younger days, while still a (comparatively) private 
 person, I propose to pause in my story in order to set 
 down some of those which I remember. There are 
 times when I seem to remember every word that he 
 ever said : there are other times (those of depression) 
 when many of his words seem to escape me. His 
 opinions may have been founded on imperfect knowl- 
 edge : but they were always such as a noble mind 
 would form and hold. 
 
 Sometimes we read poetry, but neither of the 
 brothers cared greatly for verse : they were not open 
 to the influence of the Muse: they were not moved 
 by poetry, though my cousin read, or declaimed, as 
 well as any actress. When I ventured to remonstrate
 
 The Opinions of a Gentleman. 103 
 
 with Sir George on this apparent insensibility, " If I 
 were a woman," he said, " I should read poetry. Men 
 act, women look on : they like to hear, if they cannot 
 see, how a thing is done. The poet fights the battle 
 over again for their instruction." 
 
 " But, Sir," I ventured to say, " the actors are few* 
 the spectators are many, and they are not all women." 
 
 " Let us say, then, that poets write not for men of 
 action. That is to say, not for kings and princes ; 
 generals and admirals, statesmen, lawmakers, judges, 
 bishops, divines. See how large a number are excluded, 
 for these are the men of action, who care little how 
 a thing is described so that it is done well. For my- 
 self, it is possible that I, too, shall be numbered here- 
 after among those who act. Do you think that I 
 shall concern myself about the gentry who are trying 
 to make croivn rhyme to frozvn ? It is a necessary 
 condition imposed upon the man who acts that he 
 should be the prey of the man who writes. Poets 
 eulogise the men who are successful. They are the 
 slanderers of the men who are defeated. Miss Nancy, 
 the poets do not write for the leaders, but for those 
 who are led : they write, I say, for the spectators : for 
 the herd : for the people who obey, and for the women 
 who look on. For my part, I cannot for the life of 
 me understand the admiration with which the world 
 regards the poets, or the vanity with which they regard 
 themselves." 
 
 " Does not their vanity spring from the world's 
 admiration?" I ventured to ask. "If we did not 
 admire and love their works thev would not be vain ? "
 
 104 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 " Yet — what is it we admire ? A feat of arms finely 
 described : yet, Miss Nancy, the feat of arms is neither 
 better nor worse for the description. The poet does 
 not make it. He only talks about it." 
 
 " He makes kings immortal, Sir. Who would know, 
 after all these years, anything of the Siege of Troy but 
 for Homer's Epic and Pope's Translation?" 
 
 " A general or a prince should so live that he should 
 carve his name himself in immortal granite never to 
 be forgotten. I hear that they accuse the King of 
 neglecting poets. What should he do for them ? If 
 they are good poets they become so without the 
 King's help. Why should the King encourage them ? 
 Elizabeth did not encourage Shakspere, who got on 
 very well, I believe, without her support. Kings must 
 encourage the soldiers who defend the nation and 
 extend her glory : and statesmen who administrate the 
 country : and merchants who increase her wealth : and 
 scholars who preserve her religion : but poets ! Let 
 those for whom the poets write maintain the poets. 
 Therefore, Miss Nancy, I prefer those who make the 
 history of the world : that is, the Kings who rule : to 
 the men who write verses upon them." 
 
 " But, Sir," I said, " there are other poets besides 
 those who write epics. There are pastoral poets, reli- 
 gious poets : those who write love poems : those who 
 write drinking songs : satirists " 
 
 " There, indeed," he said, " I congratulate you, Miss 
 Nancy. The pastoral poets talk about the warblers 
 in the bosky grove and the enamelled lawns. When 
 I walk in my gardens at Kew I see the flowers and
 
 The Opinions of a Gentleman. 105 
 
 I hear the birds. It would make me no happier if I 
 could repeat dozens of rhymes upon them. As for 
 drinking-songs, you would not like my brother to troll 
 out in this room some low sailor's drinking-song : and 
 as for satire, it is, truly, a fine thing to invent lies and 
 to take away another man's character. Of love-songs, 
 however, I must speak with respect, because my 
 father, who loved the arts of every kind, wrote at 
 least two. One, which I remember, was addressed to 
 his mistress — that is, his wife." 
 
 We begged him to recite it. 
 
 " I would rather sing it for you," he replied. 
 
 This was a new discovery. He could touch the 
 harpsichord and sing. His voice, I have already said, 
 was musical : it was also true to time and tune. The 
 words which I took down were as follows. I give the 
 best — which were the first two verses and the last — 
 
 ' Tis not the liquid brightness of thine eyes, 
 That swim with pleasure and delight, 
 
 Nor those two heavenly arches which arise 
 O'er each of them to shade their light. 
 
 ' Tis not that hair which plays with every wind, 
 And loves to wanton round thy face : 
 
 Now straying round the forehead, now behind. 
 Retiring with insidious grace. 
 
 No : 'tis that gentleness of mind, that love 
 
 So kindly answering my desire : 
 That grace with which you look and speak and move 
 
 That thus has set my soul on fire.
 
 106 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 After this he often sang to us. "At home," he 
 said, " when I sing, they all fall into ecstasies. Sure 
 never was heard so fine a singer! Never was heard so 
 fine a voice ! From your lips, dear ladies, alone can I 
 learn the truth and have my faults corrected, and so 
 improve. If singing is a trifle worth doing, it is worth 
 taking trouble about." My cousin had told him that 
 he hissed his consonants too much, and ran words to- 
 gether which should be separate. " Nay — but, indeed, 
 I thank you for your criticisms. Perhaps another 
 evening I may prove that I have laid your instructions 
 to heart." 
 
 Of books and authors he entertained as poor an 
 opinion as of poets. " If a gentleman chooses," he 
 said, " to entertain the world with his thoughts, I sup- 
 pose he may do so, though it would be more dignified 
 to communicate them to his private friends only, as 
 many learned scholars and wits prefer to do. But as 
 for these ragged fellows who hang about booksellers' 
 shops ; write vile pamphlets on either side for money ; 
 sell their pens to all comers ; praise or slander accord- 
 ing to pay, and supply whatever is wanted at a guinea 
 a sheet — this, I hear, is the rule — why, I think such a 
 trade most contemptible and most hateful." 
 
 " But," I said, " authors move the world through 
 the imagination, either by a play, or a poem, or a 
 romance." 
 
 " Why, if so, how is your author better than a 
 buffoon who makes the people laugh ? He is but a 
 Jack Pudding and a Merry Andrew at best. If we 
 condescend to laugh at such a fellow we despise him
 
 The Opinions of a Gentleman. 107 
 
 still. Pitiful trade, to make idle people laugh or cry ! 
 But perhaps there are people who do not think so. 
 Otherwise no one would be proud to take up the 
 trade." 
 
 I submitted with humility that many of these 
 authors wrote with a serious intention, for the pro- 
 motion of Virtue. And I instanced that remarkable 
 work, " Clarissa," by the ingenious Mr. Samuel 
 Richardson. 
 
 " I have heard of the book," he said : " I doubt, 
 however, whether virtue can be advanced by the de- 
 lineation of vice or the contemplation of virtue 
 brought to ruin. Besides, this advocacy of virtue be- 
 longs to Divines and to religion. Tell me, Miss 
 Nancy, if the Gospel, which contains the Word of 
 God, fails to inculcate virtue, can we expect success 
 from a printer of Fleet Street?" 
 
 He would, in fact, admit only as worthy of encour- 
 agement, books of instruction, such as works on agri- 
 culture, inventions, medicine, surgery, arts and crafts, 
 and the like. Much reading, he thought, made a man 
 rely on books more than upon himself. " Consider a 
 gardener," he said. " I dare swear that none of my 
 gardeners know how to read. Yet, what a vast field 
 of knowledge belongs to them : they know the trees 
 and the flowers and the roots and the vegetables, with 
 everything belonging to them : each kind of tree, and 
 how it lives and flourishes : its soil : its health and 
 diseases. They know all the birds and their customs : 
 there is no end to the knowledge of a gardener. What 
 book can teach this knowledge ? "
 
 108 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 One must confess that this kind of knowledge can- 
 not be imparted by books. 
 
 " As for me," he went on, " I find that I learn best 
 if I learn by the word of mouth. Whether it is in 
 the art of war or the art of government, I do not care 
 to read so much as to listen : then I turn over in my 
 mind what I have heard, and there it sticks. How 
 much better is this than the printed book, where 
 one always sees the peacock author strutting about 
 and crying, ' Hear me ! Behold me ! See these fine 
 feathers ! How clever I am ! ' " 
 
 Such were his opinions on poets and authors. He 
 did not advance them with the diffidence that one 
 finds in most young men : such diffidence, for instance, 
 as is due to the presence of older or more experienced 
 persons: such diffidence as one acquires by frequent- 
 ing places where men congregate : as the halls and 
 common rooms of colleges; coffee-houses and taverns. 
 This young man spoke as if he had been encouraged 
 to think his own opinions of the greatest importance : 
 this, indeed, as you will presently understand, was the 
 case. 
 
 His opinions, again, were such as one would expect 
 of a young man living out of the world : that is to say, 
 apart from the folk who do the work and are anxious 
 about their daily bread. His views of human nature 
 were not based on a sufficiently wide observation. 
 Yet they were remarkable, you will own, for their 
 sound justice. 
 
 We spoke of plays. I mentioned that I knew them 
 only by reading, for I had never been to the theatre.
 
 The Opinions of a Gentleman. 109 
 
 " A play," he said, " is the representation of history 
 or fable by action accompanied by dialogue proper to 
 the situation. If you only read a play you have to 
 imagine a succession of situations, which continually 
 change as they follow the course of the story. I con- 
 fess that my own imagination is too dull and the 
 effort is too great for this. If you will permit me to 
 accompany you to the play you will see a thousand 
 beauties in the story which you never guessed by 
 reading." 
 
 I said that in my youth I was taught that the thea- 
 tre is the house of the Devil. 
 
 " Why," he replied, " so is this house, and every 
 house, unless we keep him out. Miss Nancy's face 
 would frighten him even out of the playhouse." 
 
 " But," said my cousin, " I have always understood 
 that vice is open and unrestrained at the playhouse. 
 How can a gentlewoman venture into such a place ? " 
 
 "At first," he replied, "you will wonder what a 
 gentlewoman has to do in such a place : you will see 
 the people fighting in the gallery, brawling in the pit, 
 the fellows staring at the pretty women in the boxes, 
 the painted Jezebels laughing loud and staring at the 
 men, the footmen in their gallery whistling and calling 
 and bawling, the music making noise enough to crack 
 your ears, and the orange-girls shrieking above all. 
 But as soon as the piece begins you forget all that 
 offended you before : your eyes will be fixed upon the 
 stage : you will be carried quite out of yourself : you 
 will think of nothing but the story which they act. 
 They are not afraid — these actors — to place even Kings
 
 no A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 and Queens upon the stage: the Majesty of Kings, 
 which is conveyed to them by the holy Chrism, they 
 cannot, of course, imitate : but the dignity of a Queen 
 have I seen represented with wonderful power. That, 
 Miss Nancy, is, I suppose, because all women are born 
 to command." 
 
 " Well, but," I said, still thinking of the authors and 
 the poets, " every play must be written by some one, 
 who invents also the fable or plot." 
 
 " Nobody asks who wrote it. The playwright finds 
 his plot somewhere ; he does not invent it. He ar- 
 ranges it first, and then writes the words afterwards. 
 But the words are nothing : it is the scene and the sit- 
 uation that carry us out of ourselves. The play is 
 not made by the author, but by the actor, to whom 
 alone should be given the credit." 
 
 Now to this opinion, that the words are nothing, 
 and that the play is made by the actor, not the au- 
 thor, my cousin, who loved the reading of plays, de- 
 murred, and a long argument followed, which I omit 
 because nothing was settled, and to this day I know 
 not whether a play owes more to the poet or to the 
 actor. 
 
 In a word, he loved the play, which moved him 
 deeply, but he cared nothing for the fine poetry or the 
 noble sentiments : what moved him were the situa- 
 tions, the things that happened : Richard the Second 
 in prison filled him with pity : the fine verses put into 
 the King's mouth by the poet moved him not at all. 
 
 " If I were a schoolmaster," he said, " I would teach 
 history by means of plays, to be acted by the boys.
 
 The Opinions of a Gentleman. m 
 
 The schoolmaster would arrange the play and the 
 boys would make their own words." 
 
 Sometimes we sat down to play cards. His favour- 
 ite game was that called Comet. I believe that the 
 Founder of our Society called them the Devil's pic- 
 tures, or something equally severe. Surely, had he 
 seen our innocent games, at which no one wept at 
 losing or rejoiced at winning, he would have changed 
 his opinion. Cards, I apprehend, like wine, dress, and 
 many other things, are what we make of them. On 
 this subject he was quite clear and decided. He 
 played with interest, but it was the interest of watch- 
 ing the chances and varying fortunes of the cards, 
 which sometimes wantonly strip a player of all he has, 
 and at other times, with no more reason, load him 
 with wealth. 
 
 " A gentleman," he said, " must not play above his 
 means : let him lose no more than he will never miss, 
 and win no more than will not make him rich. Let us 
 not see your lovely face, Miss Nancy, distorted by the 
 anxieties of the gamester. Sometimes, at my moth- 
 er's card parties, I watch the ladies over their play. 
 Heavens ! If they only mark the havoc which play 
 can make upon a woman's face ! What lover would 
 not fly in horror from his mistress when he saw her 
 snatch up her cards ; bite her lips ; turn white and red 
 through her rouge : when her eyes are filled with 
 tears : when her voice chokes : and her brow wrinkles 
 with rage and despair? Yet the next night they are 
 ready to begin again ! Miss Nancy, you have again 
 all the luck of the cards."
 
 ii2 A Fountain Sealed* 
 
 He spoke often and willingly on religion, in which 
 he was firmly attached to the Established Church: 
 holding in pity all those persons who dissent from the 
 Thirty-Nine Articles ; not, as some clergymen of the 
 Establishment do, treating them with hatred as if 
 they were criminals : or derision, as if their judgment 
 were contemptible : but with a sincere and deep- 
 rooted pity that, owing to some early prejudice or 
 confusion of brain, they should not be able to discern 
 the truth. He knew all the arguments against the 
 Catholics, and wondered openly why the Pope of 
 Rome did not acknowledge the English Church as the 
 only true form : the Jesuits, and the Pretender's 
 brother, he supposed, kept him from reading the sim- 
 ple arguments against Popery. As for the Protestant 
 sects, he knew some of them— their name is legion — 
 and what was to be said against them. As for the 
 Society of Friends, he had been, till he knew us, in 
 complete ignorance. How could a young gentleman 
 grow up in ignorance of the Society? In every town 
 the Friends are to be found : always in trade ; always 
 wealthy ; spoken of continually on account of their 
 refusal to pay tithes; having colonies in America ; be- 
 longing more largely than most sects to the history of 
 their country : and here was a young man of two-and- 
 twenty who knew nothing of them. " Who are they ? " 
 he asked. " Why were they called Friends ? Why 
 did they offer no resistance ? Why did they refuse to 
 pay tithes and Easter dues ? By what arguments did 
 they defend their position ? If we were all equal it 
 would be right for all to wear the same dress : then we
 
 The Opinions of a Gentleman. 113 
 
 ought all to have the same fortune." He took the 
 greatest pleasure in knocking down the doctrines of 
 my people. This, I daresay, was not difficult with 
 two women, only half-hearted, against him. 
 
 " I take my doctrines," he said, " from the Arch- 
 bishops, the Bishops, and the Divines of my own 
 Church. These doctrines, I understand, were origi- 
 nally laid down for us in Hebrew, Chaldean, and in 
 Greek — perhaps in other languages, none of which 
 do I understand, even if I had them laid before me. 
 How, then, can I pretend to judge of these doctrines, 
 what they were and what the translation should be? 
 Do the Quakers understand these ancient languages? 
 I think not. Yet they venture to construct their own 
 interpretation. This is presumption ! Do they also 
 profess to expound the law which has been made for 
 them by successive Kings ? Dear Miss Nancy, there 
 is no safety among such people, believe me. In things 
 religious, above all, the wise must lead the igno- 
 rant." 
 
 These words I have remembered ever since. Of 
 their wisdom I have now no doubt. Scholarship and 
 learning are of small importance except for the acqui- 
 sition of wisdom and the imparting of knowledge. It 
 is to the Divines that the world at large must look for 
 their opinions. 
 
 Sometimes he asked questions about the people — 
 how they live, how they work, what they think, of 
 their loyalty, their religion, their manners ; betraying 
 a strange ignorance of the lower classes whom we qi 
 the middle sort continually meet, and know.
 
 ii4 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 " I suppose," he said, " that I ought to know some- 
 thing of these people. My excuse is that while my 
 brother Edward has been to sea, and so knows the 
 world, I have had to live at home — for reasons which 
 I will spare you. Few indeed are the houses into 
 which I have gone: few are the people outside my 
 own — relations — whom I know. Therefore, all that 
 you tell me interests me." 
 
 My cousin, for instance, told him how the City peo- 
 ple of the better class live : she described her own 
 life before she married a Quaker : the cheerful life of 
 a London merchant's daughter, with the assembly 
 once a week in winter : the country drives in summer 
 — to Hampstead and Highgate in the north, to Dul- 
 wich and the hanging woods of Penge in the south : 
 the card-parties in the winter evenings: the river 
 parties : the City feasts : the church and the sermons : 
 the visits accompanied by a 'prentice with a club and 
 a lantern : the sets and coteries and the different 
 ranks and stations: all of which she depicted with 
 much vividness. The differences in position he could 
 not possibly understand. " Rank," he said, " very 
 rightfully belongs to the Sovereign. A peer would not 
 condescend to know a craftsman : but why is a lawyer 
 above a schoolmaster? — a merchant above a shop- 
 keeper? They are all commoners." 
 
 " The quarterdeck cannot associate with the fo'c'sle," 
 said the sailor. 
 
 "There, brother, we have the officer. That is rank. 
 That we understand." 
 
 This strange ignorance of the lower walks of So-
 
 The Opinions of a Gentleman. 115 
 
 ciety seemed connected with the fact that his mother, 
 as he told us, was a foreigner. 
 
 " For myself," he said, " it is my chief pride that I 
 am born an Englishman." 
 
 Then he raised his hand, and recited these verses— 
 " I spoke them," he explained, " as a prologue to a 
 play when I was thirteen or fourteen — 
 
 " Should this superior to my years be thought, 
 Know — 'tis the first great lesson I was taught. 
 What ? The a boy ! It ?nay with pride be said; 
 A boy : in England born : in England bred : 
 Where freedom well becomes the earliest state, 
 For there the laws of Liberty innate." 
 
 These lines he pronounced (as he did everything) 
 with the utmost sincerity. He could never under- 
 stand the differences in position (rather than in rank) 
 which make the pride (or the misery) of so many of 
 our City dames. I suppose that to one who stands 
 on a pinnacle, or looks down upon the world from 
 the summit of some high mountain, the smaller differ- 
 ences vanish : all becomes a plain surface. 
 
 " As for our own class," said my cousin, "it is that 
 of the sober and successful merchant, who is raised 
 above the shopkeeper by his superior education and 
 knowledge : by his superior wealth : and by the mag- 
 nitude of his enterprises." 
 
 He made haste to compliment her as to her own 
 class. 
 
 " Madam," he said, " your class is the chief glory of 
 the country : you make its wealth : you employ the.
 
 n6 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 people. Believe me, we are truly sensible of the 
 service which London has always rendered to this 
 country. As for myself and my brother, we hold it a 
 singular happiness that we are permitted to join the 
 society of so much virtue and so much refinement as 
 that of yourself and Miss Nancy." 
 
 We both acknowledged this compliment. 
 
 " Here," he continued, " I find amusement without 
 rudeness : wit without coarseness, and " — he rose, for 
 it was nearly ten — " friendship without self-seeking." 
 
 He bent his head and kissed both our hands, with a 
 humid eye which betrayed his sensibility.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 The Christening of a Convert* 
 
 EVERY history is like a journey : there are long 
 stretches of road dusty or muddy with joltings and 
 jostlings in the deep ruts : then come periods of rest, 
 of smooth road, of pleasant company. One such mo- 
 ment of rest and refreshment I would note here, if 
 only to show the natural piety of heart which distin- 
 guished my lover, whom I must still call, as his brother 
 called him, Sir George le Breton. 
 
 I write these words in my summer-house : there are 
 two windows in it : one of them looks upon the val- 
 ley of the Lea. I can see the barges towed up and 
 down the river : it is a broad flat valley, a marsh in 
 winter, a meadow in summer: day after day, year 
 after year, I sit and gaze across this expanse broken 
 only by the meandering stream. Beyond it are the 
 low hills of Essex. As this landscape so is my life : it 
 is the stream which always goes on towards the end : 
 and there is no change'in it : nothing happens. 
 
 The other window looks upon my garden — a brave 
 garden full of fruit and flowers. The garden speaks 
 to me daily. It says — I gave it to you — I who loved 
 you well — yet not as he — the other — loved you. Do 
 not forget either of us — this garden is so full of fruits
 
 n8 A Fountain Sealed* 
 
 and flowers because it is a garden of Love. When 
 you walk in it : when you look upon it : remember. 
 
 As if I could ever forget ! The days pass : the 
 nights pass : the suns rise and set : I desire nothing : 
 I expect nothing : I hope nothing : I have no friends : 
 I live only in the past : I do not wish to die because 
 the memory of the past is precious and I would not lose 
 it : I console myself concerning inevitable death with 
 thinking that we shall preserve the memories of the 
 past. There was once a poet who wrote that there is 
 no greater misery than the memory of past joys. No, 
 no, no : that is not so. I would not for all the world 
 part with the memory of my past joys. They make 
 my life happy ; they give me pride : even though, I 
 know, the people at church whisper that this is the 
 
 lady who was once What does it matter what 
 
 they whisper? Alas! A woman's heart rules her in 
 everything, even in religion. Sometimes when I read 
 Paul's promises concerning the future life — where he 
 tells us — this great consoler — that eye hath not seen : 
 nor can man's mind understand : the glories, the joys, 
 that await us in the other world, I, being only a hum- 
 ble and unlettered woman, feel that unless one person 
 is there with me, I shall be insensible to those joys. 
 Again, since all human delights, all the joys and 
 pleasures and ecstasies of which we can form any con- 
 ception (being limited by what we can see and under- 
 stand here) have their roots in corruption, but soar 
 high as the highest human nature can allow : we may 
 understand how out of the basest desires may spring 
 the highest spiritual gifts : and since of all sources of
 
 The Christening of a Convert. 119 
 
 human happiness love is the first, the most copious, 
 the most satisfying, it is therefore the counterpart of 
 the supreme joys, whatever they may be, of Heaven. 
 In which case, my lover will come back to me. There, 
 at least, will be no talk of rank and birth and barriers 
 of love. For I was his first : I was his first : before 
 the Other came across the seas. 
 
 By this time, there was no doubt possible. He 
 came every evening, sometimes in the morning : he 
 gazed in my face with such love as one could hardly 
 believe. What was it that he saw in my face? In- 
 deed, I know not why a man should be so overcome 
 by a woman's face. I knew very well by this time 
 that he was of high rank : I understood what he 
 meant when once he spoke of the story about Lord 
 Burleigh and the village maid, saying that he was 
 wrong to take her to his great castle, but should have 
 left her in her native village or placed her somewhere 
 in a cottage surrounded by flowers and orchards 
 where she would be happy in her own way, and where 
 he could find rest from the cares of rank and station. 
 And to this story he often returned. As for things 
 that have been suspected, no one, I am sure, who 
 reads this history will continue to believe them. Never 
 — never — never could this noble soul stoop to any- 
 thing disgraceful. How could I respect him other- 
 wise? How could I, otherwise, think him worthy the 
 love and respect which still I bear towards him ? 
 
 It was at this time, and in consequence of his desire, 
 that I was baptized and received into the Church of 
 England.
 
 i2d A Fountain Sealed* 
 
 It was a desire very greatly at his heart. He urged 
 the cause of the Church with singular spirit and full 
 conviction. It was the ancient Church of Christ 
 purged from corruption : it taught nothing but what 
 the Bible sanctions and commands : it has its organ- 
 ised authority, as the early Church had, with bishops, 
 and priests, and deacons : the ancient sacraments : the 
 ancient forms of prayer. He showed me that the 
 Church was the mother of a great number of divines, 
 scholars, and philosophers. Further, that my own 
 poor sect was founded by simple men who were gov- 
 erned by the letter — and that an uncertain letter, be- 
 cause they knew not the ancient languages. 
 
 " One thing only," he said to my cousin, " is lacking 
 in this sweet girl — she is still a schismatic." 
 
 " I think that she will never return to the Society 
 again." 
 
 " Yet she is not baptized. Nancy, the Church waits 
 thee — she waits with open arms." 
 
 Tn a word, I repaired to the rector of St. James's, 
 Piccadilly, and laid my case before him. This excel- 
 lent man was so good as so devote some time to my 
 instruction in the doctrines of the Church, showing 
 me at the same time how they rest upon the solid 
 Rock of the Word. 
 
 When I fully understood the meaning of the things 
 which are prohibited by the Society of Friends — as 
 the efficacy of the sacraments : the baptism of in- 
 fants : the kneeling posture : the chanting and singing : 
 the litanies and forms of prayer : the declaration of 
 absolution : and so forth — when I had learned the
 
 The Christening- of a Convert. 121 
 
 Catechism and read the Articles (which my tutor 
 kindly allowed me to accept unquestioned), I was 
 baptized. 
 
 The ceremony took place after the Second Lesson 
 of Evening Prayer. My cousin appeared as my god- 
 mother, to present me at the font : very few people 
 were present : Sir George stood retired under the 
 gallery, where he could see, but was not observed. 
 
 Thus, consenting at first to receive instruction out 
 of a desire to please my lover, I found myself a 
 daughter — I hope a true and loyal daughter — to a 
 Church which numbers in its illustrious company of 
 children an infinite number of scholars and divines : 
 poets and philosophers : statesmen and soldiers : mar- 
 tyrs and confessors. 
 
 When the awful service was over and my vows were 
 pronounced, my soul was filled with solemn thoughts. 
 I felt myself regenerate, in a sense which would never 
 be admitted by my brother : I was lifted out of a 
 barn, so to speak, into a palace : out of a fold sur- 
 rounded by wolves into meadows safely guarded. 
 
 At the doors of the church, after the baptism, Sir 
 George met us. 
 
 " We are now," he whispered, " of the same faith 
 and of the same mind. What I believe, you believe: 
 what I think, you think. I am now completely happy." 
 Not one word of love had yet been pronounced. Yet 
 I, like him, was now completely happy. 
 
 This day is one of those which mark the course of 
 the journey. It can never be forgotten. My heart is 
 full when I think of it. For the first time in my life,
 
 I2 2 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 I understood what it was to be a member of the Chris- 
 tian Church : not one of a little flock apart, torn by 
 fears and saddened by doubts, but one of the whole 
 great company of human creatures for whom our 
 Lord came to earth : He loved that whole great com- 
 pany : not one or two among them. And now those 
 evil shadows fled from my soul : these demons of ter- 
 ror and doubt left me for good. I have no fear now. 
 I am one of that great Company. My lover led me 
 into it. I owe to him, in a sense, even my certainty 
 of Redemption. 
 
 Two days later, in the same church, I was confirmed 
 by the Lord Bishop of London, alone. It was at the 
 special request of my lover that this learned prelate 
 consented to receive me. "A gentlewoman of great 
 piety and many virtues," the Bishop was told. No 
 one was present except my cousin and the verger. 
 The doors were shut, and I received, in a kind of soli- 
 tude, the blessing and a brief exhortation of the 
 Bishop. The solitude, had I understood it, should 
 have foreshadowed the solitude of my after life, with 
 the blessing to console and comfort the lonely woman. 
 
 On the following Sunday I completed my entrance 
 into the Church of England by communion at the 
 Sacred Table.
 
 CHAPTER DC 
 King's Favourites* 
 
 I SUPPOSE it was natural that we should feel some 
 curiosity as to the family to which our friends be- 
 longed. They had a mother living : she was of Ger- 
 man birth ; they spoke as if she lived in London, and 
 with her sons ; their father was dead. Sir George had 
 a country house at Kew ; Edward had a younger son's 
 portion ; there was a grandfather of whom both spoke 
 with a reverence not usual, I believe, in young men ; 
 in fact we knew, as we thought, everything about 
 them, except the extent and the position of their 
 estates and the history of their family. " Everybody," 
 said my cousin, " knows about the Storeys. There is 
 always a Storey of good repute on 'Change. In City 
 names I am learned, and can tell you of any one, 
 whether he belongs to a good City family or not. But 
 of these people of rank I know nothing." Therefore 
 we were in ignorance as to the history and position of 
 the Le Bretons. 
 
 And yet — it was truly wonderful — everybody about 
 us knew perfectly well the history, the position, and 
 everything concerning that family and the two young 
 men who belonged to it. Thus, Captain Sellinger 
 knew : Corporal Bates knew : the Doctor knew : Rob-
 
 124 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 ert Storey knew : what is still more wonderful, no one 
 told us who they were : everybody, on the other hand, 
 supposed that we knew. 
 
 As for the Doctor, his behaviour surprised me ex- 
 tremely, because I could not for the life of me un- 
 derstand what he meant. I think I have already 
 mentioned him. He was the old man whose means of 
 living were not apparent. He occupied the front 
 room on the ground floor. He called himself Myn- 
 sterchamber, which, as we now know, was an assumed 
 name. We called him Doctor, I know not why, for 
 he did not practise. For the most part he seemed to 
 be sitting like a spider with his door ajar, watching 
 the people pass in and out. He had many visitors of 
 his own : some of them he let out privately by the 
 garden door, which opened upon the Park. When- 
 ever my cousin and I went out or returned, he would 
 throw open the door and stand there, a long, lean 
 figure with a hatchet face, a cunning foxy face all 
 wrinkles, with a pair of keen bright eyes. Then he 
 would laugh gently and rub his hands while he passed 
 some extravagant compliment. I expected these com- 
 pliments : they amused me: one knew how foolish they 
 were : yet they amused me. It was, " Miss Nancy will 
 kill all the swains this morning": or "Miss Nancy, 
 I protest, hath called up all her angelic soul into her 
 eyes." And so on. Why, we might defend a com- 
 pliment as a homage to virtue: it cannot harm a 
 woman to be reminded that an angelic soul is much to 
 be desired : she may then be induced to raise her own 
 imperfect soul. Cold would be the world : it would be
 
 King's Favourites. 125 
 
 a world after the fashion of our Society : in which the 
 exact truth, and nothing more, was told. In that kind 
 of world the Doctor would have saluted me some 
 morning with, " Miss Nancy, I vow, doth express in 
 her sour and peevish countenance the whole of her 
 detestable temper." That, I am quite sure, would 
 have made me very angry. 
 
 One morning he not only threw the door wide open 
 and passed the usual compliment, but he invited us to 
 enter his room. Out of curiosity to see the lodging 
 of this mysterious person, my cousin accepted and we 
 went in. The room was furnished most meagrely. 
 There was a low and narrow wooden bed covered with 
 a blanket : there was a table littered with papers : two 
 or three common chairs : and a cupboard with shelves 
 containing his wardrobe. There was also a large 
 wooden box strengthened with iron. His hat, sword, 
 and coat hung from the wall : his wig hung from an- 
 other nail : he wore a white cotton nightcap tied round 
 his head like a turban, and a long, ragged nightgown 
 of faded silk. 
 
 " The place," he said, " is simple, as you see ; yet it 
 does very well for an old soldier." 
 
 He handed us to chairs. " I believe," he said, "that 
 this is the first time during my residence here, of ten 
 years, that I have been visited by a lady. What can I 
 offer ?" He went to his cupboard and brought out a 
 bottle of curious shape and two little wine-glasses, into 
 which he poured some liquid. "This," he said, " is a 
 cordial made by certain monks in a place called the 
 Grande Chartreuse. Taste it, ladies. Be not afraid :
 
 i26 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 it is strong, but I have given you only a few drops." 
 It was, indeed, the most delicious nectar that I had 
 ever tasted, but too strong for a woman's drink. 
 While we tasted this cordial he went on talking. 
 "This is my humble lodging: hither come a few old 
 friends from time to time to visit me : we exchange 
 recollections and experiences : like all old men, we 
 praise the days that are past. Alas ! They come no 
 more. Age has few pleasures except wine and recol- 
 lections and the snuff-box." He produced his own 
 and illustrated the remark. 
 
 He spoke with something of a foreign accent. 
 
 "You have travelled abroad, Sir?" my cousin 
 asked. 
 
 " I have travelled over most of Europe. I have 
 seen the Courts of Kings and the cottages of the peo- 
 ple. I speak most of the European languages. That 
 man cannot be said to travel who cannot speak the 
 language of the country." 
 
 "You must have observed many interesting 
 things?" 
 
 " The differences between peoples appear interest- 
 ing at first. When one grows old, they become insig- 
 nificant. All men and women in every country are 
 the same. And their highest virtues are simply those 
 which we teach to children." 
 
 " What teaching do you mean, Sir? " 
 
 " I mean, Madam, the elementary virtues which are, 
 I believe, taught in your Church Catechism : Honesty, 
 obedience, chastity, industry, loyalty — nothing more 
 is wanted. Were these virtues actually practised in
 
 King's Favourites. 127 
 
 the world, there would be no poverty, no discontent, 
 no lawyers, no prisons, no gibbets, no sermons. Noth- 
 ing is wanted in spite of your Thirty-nine Articles 
 and your libraries of theology but the simple virtues. 
 Honesty to beget confidence and trust : obedience to 
 preserve order and authority : chastity to preserve the 
 dignity of women : industry to supply the world : 
 and, above all, and before all, loyalty to keep the 
 social machine from falling to pieces." 
 
 " Is loyalty to be put first, Doctor? To be sure, in 
 this favoured land, we are all loyal." 
 
 He made a wry face. "All loyal, Madam?" he 
 repeated. " All loyal? I would to Heaven we were! 
 Loyalty, Madam, to the lawful sovereign — not to any 
 usurper — is the first of all duties. He who is loyal is 
 everything : he is ready at all times to spend and be 
 spent in the service of his King. There may be a bad 
 King, yet some time or other he dies : whatever may 
 be said of him he fulfils — he cannot choose but fulfil 
 — the function of a King. When he dies there comes 
 a better. The King is the keystone to the arch : the 
 only stone that belongs to that place. If all the world 
 were loyal there would be no rebellions, no heresies, 
 no false prophets, no mischievous liberties : we should 
 all think alike, hold the same faith, and, if need be, 
 should die alike." 
 
 He spoke earnestly, and his face lost for a moment 
 its habitual look of cunning. 
 
 "When a man is loyal," he went on, " he will do 
 cheerfully whatever he is bidden to do by his supe- 
 riors, even if it cost him his fortune and estate : even
 
 128 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 if it ruins his children : yea, even if it orders him to 
 carry out the basest of tasks ; even if his loyalty cover 
 him with infamy, he will dare it cheerfully. A man 
 who is loyal will place more than his life — he will 
 place his honour — at the disposal of his King." 
 " Could a King take a man's honour from him ? " 
 "In politics and statecraft, Miss Nancy, everything 
 may be possible — even necessary." 
 
 " Of course," said my cousin, " everybody must be 
 
 loyal." 
 
 " Madam, believe me : it is the superlatively good 
 thing. Remember all the miseries— the civil wars — 
 brought upon this country by disloyalty. Henry the 
 Fourth takes his cousin's place. Presently the coun- 
 try is red with rivers of blood. Charles the First is 
 murdered, with more rivers of blood. James the 
 Second is deposed, and what end do we see to the 
 troubles that followed that act of wickedness ? " 
 
 "Nay, Sir!" My cousin opened her eyes. This 
 was a strange theory to hear in the reign of George II. 
 
 "Loyalty remains in the country still. There are 
 the martyrs of 1715 and those of 1745. Derwentwa- 
 ter's spirit yet survives " 
 
 My cousin jumped up. 
 
 " Nancy ! " she cried. " This gentleman is a Jaco- 
 bite." 
 
 "Nay, nay." He spoke as one who coaxes. 
 " What matter the opinions of an old man who can no 
 longer fight and is not a pamphleteer? You shall 
 have your own way and be as loyal as you like. Sit 
 down again, and I will show you something." We
 
 King's Favourites. 129 
 
 sat down, and he opened his box. " You must know, 
 ladies, that I have a poor house — in the country — a 
 country house. Here I have certain collections — an 
 old man likes to collect things. I have some paint- 
 ings : some china ; some curiosities of all kinds. Since 
 I have been in London I have made a little collection 
 of miniatures which will interest you, I am sure. 
 They are portraits — real or imaginary — of lovely and 
 celebrated ladies — not one so lovely as Miss Nancy, 
 who will, I am sure, be the most celebrated of them 
 all." He took out a box about a foot long and placed 
 it on the table. It contained a large number of minia- 
 tures set in gold frames. I took them up one after 
 the other. They were, as he said, portraits of really 
 beautiful women. 
 
 "That portrait," he said — I was looking at one 
 representing a girl wearing a Scotch plaid over her 
 shoulder — "will never be given you, Miss Nancy, by 
 the gentleman who visits you every day." 
 
 " Why not, Sir ? " 
 
 " Truly, I cannot say. If you do not know, I do 
 not. It is the portrait of Flora Macdonald, a very dis- 
 tinguished loyalist, who saved the life of Prince 
 Charles Edward." 
 
 " The Young Pretender," my cousin corrected him. 
 
 "If you please — Prince or Pretender — she saved 
 his life. The Prince has been — though there is still 
 time for fortune to change — singularly unfortunate 
 hitherto : misfortune dogs his steps : he is continually 
 pursued by misfortune : yet he has had his consola- 
 tion in the women whose portraits are in this box.
 
 130 A Fountain Scaled. 
 
 Clementina Walkinshaw : Jenny Cameron : Lady Mac 
 kintosh : and not the least the subject of this piece, 
 Flora Macdonald. Now Miss Nancy, I repeat, would 
 your friends give you this picture? " 
 
 "Why should they not, Sir?" 
 
 " Indeed, I repeat, I cannot say. If you do not 
 know I do not. Will you choose to look at the rest ? 
 They are all the favourites of Kings and Princes. See 
 — here is Agnes Sorel, beloved of Charles the Seventh 
 of France: here La Belle Gabrielle, mistress of Henry 
 the Fourth of France : here is La Valliere : here 
 Madame de Montespan : all French ladies. Here, 
 again, are some English portraits. Fair Rosamond — 
 but I doubt the genuineness of this portrait : Alice 
 Ferrars : Jane Shore: — they are all sad in the eyes. 
 I know not why, but the King's sweetheart is never 
 happy for long. Here is Nell Gwynne " 
 
 << 
 
 Put them up — put them up, Doctor Mynster- 
 chamber. Are these things to be shown to a young 
 lady ? " My cousin was greatly moved. The Doctor 
 grinned, with such a meaning look that though I 
 knew not what it meant I shivered and shook as in 
 the presence of some evil thing. 
 
 "Come, Nancy, come," she caught me by the hand. 
 " This is the last time, Doctor Mynsterchamber, that I 
 shall enter your lodging. Do not dare, Sir, so much 
 as to speak to us ! Rosamond and Nell Gwynne, in- 
 deed ! " 
 
 She pushed me out, very indignant. " What does 
 the old villain mean ? " she asked. " As for the 
 French pictures I know nothing about the persons,
 
 King's Favourites. 131 
 
 and, I am sure, I do not desire to know anything : but 
 the English creatures one has heard about in history. 
 What does he mean by the loyalty of Derwentwater ? 
 My dear, the creature is a Jacobite. That is certain. 
 And what does he mean by saying that our friends 
 would not give us the portrait of the Scotch wo- 
 man?"
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Robert Storey. 
 
 It was somewhere about this time that Mr. Robert 
 Storey paid me a remarkable visit. He came in the 
 morning, when (I suppose) he knew that Isabel would 
 probably be out with Molly and a basket, somewhere 
 about Shepherd's Market. I was, in fact, alone, for 
 that reason. Since the evening when he fairly ran 
 away, frightened by the mere aspect of our visitors, he 
 had not once called upon us. For my own part, as I 
 did not think of him, or miss him, I asked not why 
 he came no longer, who had before that event come 
 so often. 
 
 This morning he was dressed in the plain brown 
 cloth in which he served his customers and showed his 
 books. One expected the studied respect of the coun- 
 ter : the self-satisfaction with which he stood before 
 me was out of place in the workaday dress. A cer- 
 tain anxiety, however, was in his eyes and his saluta- 
 tion showed some doubt or difficulty in his mind by 
 the omission of some of his ceremonies. 
 
 Yet he remembered, on sitting down, to thrust his 
 right hand under his waistcoat, which is an attitude 
 denoting authority. A suppliant, if you think of it, 
 doth never sit upright, with his hand in his waistcoat 
 over his heart.
 
 Robert Storey * 133 
 
 " This is unexpected, Mr. Robert," 1 said, " The 
 cares of business, I believe, generally occupy your 
 mornings." 
 
 " I have left a shopful of poets and authors solicit- 
 ing, as usual, my patronage. They must wait. I 
 come at the call of duty. Consider me, Miss Nancy, 
 as a man who never flinches at the call of duty." 
 
 " Indeed, Sir ! I am honoured, whatever the cause." 
 
 " Where ruin threatens one in whom a man takes a 
 friendly interest, or even a warmer interest, he would 
 be below a man were he not to obey the voice of duty. 
 In such a case to flinch would be degrading. Vanish, 
 safety! Welcome, danger! — so that duty points the 
 way." 
 
 " Really, Mr. Robert ! You are doubtless right. 
 But — does the occasion justify these noble senti- 
 ments ? " 
 
 " In some cases," he went on, " as in old friendship, 
 or in blood relationship, a man has a right to intervene : 
 in other cases, the right has been conferred upon him 
 by circumstances : as when two persons have been 
 lovers. The recollection of the past preserves a ten- 
 der interest, and confers that right. He who hath 
 once loved, always loves. He who hath once loved 
 retains the right of intervention. So sacred, Miss 
 Nancy, is the passion of love." 
 
 He must have got this exordium off by heart : with 
 so much dignity and roundness of phrase was it ad- 
 vanced : indeed, in what followed as well, he seemed 
 like one who is saying a lesson ; or like a schoolboy 
 reciting, with studied gestures, the words of another.
 
 134 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 As for me, I understood not one word. What had 
 Robert Storey to do with love? Why should he 
 speak to me about the sacred passion of love? Never 
 had I suspected, never did my cousin suspect, that 
 the man entertained towards me any sentiment of the 
 kind. As for myself, as you know very well, I had 
 no thought of love from any quarter until a certain 
 person began to occupy my heart. 
 
 " Love," he went on, grandly, "even when rejected 
 and scorned, confers rights. To love a worthy woman 
 — that is, a woman worthy the affection of a mer- 
 chant — not only raises the woman but also the man, 
 in whom love confirms and strengthens his former con- 
 spicuous virtues. It is a patent of nobility. Venus 
 borrows the sword of Mars and lays it over the 
 shoulders of the lover." He repeated the last clause, 
 being carried away by admiration of it. 
 
 I know not how long he might have gone on with 
 these extravagances, had I not stopped him, being out 
 of patience. 
 
 "Pray, Sir, for Heaven's sake cease talking language 
 fit for one of your starving authors and come to the 
 point. What do you mean, once for all, by your 
 rights and your duty and your sacred passion of 
 love?" 
 
 He turned very red, took his hand out of his bosom, 
 and leaning both hands on his knees, he bent down 
 and whispered hoarsely, though there was nobody else 
 in the room, " Miss Nancy, I can never forget that I 
 was first in the field." 
 
 "What do mean, Sir?"
 
 Robert Storey* *35 
 
 " First in the field. That you cannot deny." 
 
 " I do not wish to deny anything that is true. But, 
 if you please, what field? " 
 
 " First in the field, I say : you know very well what 
 I mean. For two months my attentions — those of a 
 plain substantial merchant — a sober, godly citizen — 
 pleased — until the Other came." 
 
 " Attentions! To me, Mr. Robert?" This did 
 astonish me, because, I repeat, I had no kind of suspi- 
 cion at all that he had ever paid me attentions 
 Speeches of a highly moral character he had made, 
 often : but these I could not take for attentions. 
 
 " Understand me, if you please, Sir. I have never 
 received any attentions from you, to my knowledge. 
 You have behaved to me in no way differently than to 
 my cousin. I am certain that Isabel has never 
 suspected such a thing. Put it out of your thoughts, 
 therefore, instantly and for ever. I cannot admit that 
 you have any rights, or that I have ever heard you 
 speak to me except as Isabel's cousin should be al- 
 lowed to speak." 
 
 Perhaps I spoke more strongly than was necessary : 
 but I confess that the claim made me angry. Rob- 
 ert Storey ever my lover ! This smug, self-satisfied 
 man of second-hand maxims and third-rate phrases ! 
 Robert Storey ever to occupy the heart afterwards 
 filled with oh ! 
 
 In reply he sighed heavily, joined his hands, and sat 
 back in his chair with his eyes raised as if appealing to 
 Heaven. " So quickly may the world corrupt ! So 
 quickly may the most transparent soul be clouded !
 
 i3 6 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 So quickly may coquetry — heartless coquetry — grow 
 up even in the Quaker heart ! " 
 
 " Now, Mr. Robert Storey, you become rude. I 
 assure you, once more, that I was quite unconscious 
 of any attentions on your part." 
 
 " Alas ! " he replied. " That Miss Nancy should so 
 stoop ! How can I believe such a thing ? Did I not 
 lend books? Did I not come here instead of going to 
 my club where I am an honoured member? " 
 
 " I am sorry, Sir. I was brought up in such seclusion 
 that I understood not what these attentions might 
 mean." 
 
 " Nay — think — you allowed me to believe: you suf- 
 fered me to flatter myself : that I was not displeasing 
 to you." 
 
 "Displeasing? Why should you be displeasing? 
 Besides, if you were I could not tell you so in my 
 cousin's house." 
 
 ' Then, suddenly, there appeared upon the scene — 
 Another — one who dazzled — and I am forgotten and 
 cast aside. This gives me, I say, the right to warn." 
 
 I was silent because what he said was quite true. I 
 had forgotten him. Persons for whom we do not 
 greatly care, pass out of our minds very easily. I had 
 forgotten him. Yet as to these intentions, indeed I 
 did not even suspect them. 
 
 " These young — gentlemen — are admitted every 
 night : the honest merchant is turned out of doors." 
 
 " Not turned out of doors. Remember, Mr. Robert, 
 you ran away. We do not keep you out of doors. 
 Come back if you please."
 
 Robert Storey* 13? 
 
 " You know that I cannot pretend to associate with 
 these two — persons." 
 
 " You were once, if I remember, convinced that they 
 were highwaymen or impostors of some kind. Do you 
 now own that you were wrong?" 
 
 " If," he replied slowly, " it will help you to return 
 to your senses, I do own that I was wrong. They are 
 young men, as you know, of high place. Their world 
 is not mine. I cannot presume to sit in the same 
 room with them." 
 
 " You also thought that they are profligates. How- 
 ever, that matters little. What is your present griev- 
 ance r 
 
 " They are admitted here every evening, Miss Nancy. 
 Have you considered — has my cousin considered — the 
 construction which the world may put upon such an 
 intimacy ? " 
 
 " We live so much out of the world that we do not 
 hear what the world says." 
 
 " No woman can afford to disregard the character 
 which she bears in the world. As for me, my cousin's 
 name is also concerned. This adds to the apprehen- 
 sions with which I contemplate the situation." 
 
 " It is very good of you, Mr. Robert, to caution me 
 against the world. Meantime, I doubt if the most 
 censorious can find anything to say against visits paid 
 openly to two women — one of them a widow — by two 
 brothers, who always come together." 
 
 He rose : he made as if he would speak : he checked 
 himself : he walked to the window and looked out : 
 he came back and stood by the table.
 
 13 s A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 " You shall hear what is said. Only the day before 
 yesterday you passed my shop in Pall Mall, I was 
 standing on the door step conversing with a customer, 
 concerning a certain person. As you passed he said to 
 me ' Those are the ladies whom he visits.' As he 
 spoke he turned away his head." 
 
 " Is that all ? Why, it is quite true." 
 
 He groaned so unaffectedly that I did not laugh at 
 him as I was at first inclined. 
 
 "The world will always think the worst. Oh, Miss 
 Nancy ! you know not the wickedness of the world." 
 
 " But — what have we to do with the wickedness of 
 the world ? These gentlemen come not alone, if it is 
 a sin for a man to call alone upon two ladies : I do not 
 receive them alone, but in the company of my cousin. 
 Believe me, Sir, they never transgress — they could 
 not — the rules of good breeding. They are well-bred 
 young men, with whom it is a great pleasure to con- 
 verse. I am sure that they have no place in the 
 corrupt society of which you speak " 
 
 " That is as it may be — but why do they come? I 
 will tell you, then, in so many words, why they 
 come." 
 
 He sat down again and delivered himself of the 
 suspicions which filled his soul. 
 
 " I will tell you," he repeated, " why they come. 
 They are not highwaymen or adventurers, or im- 
 postors of any kind : you pretend not to know their 
 rank : well, I will not know either." 
 
 " I wish to learn the truth when it pleases my 
 friends to tell me. Besides, Mr. Robert, I could hardly
 
 Robert Storey. *39 
 
 believe you on this subject, after your mistake as to 
 the highwaymen. Go on, however." 
 
 " I will begin, then. In this country " — Robert 
 Storey always affected, as you have perceived, the 
 preacher, or lecturer, or moral philosopher. " In this 
 country where there exists a hierarchy, which is a word 
 derived from the Latin meaning a ladder, there are 
 levels in which each of us is born. To take your 
 place on the wrong level brings misery and repent- 
 ance. Those on the higher levels must not marry 
 with those of the lower. Yet, sometimes, to the ir- 
 reparable injury of the women concerned, the men of 
 the upper levels make love to the women of the 
 lower. They either dazzle the poor creatures with 
 their ribbons and their gold lace ; or they make prom- 
 ises which they never mean to perform : or one makes 
 his society so pleasing to a woman that — poor wretch ! 
 — she cannot live without her lover, and so — and so — 
 the rest is easy." 
 
 " The rest, Mr. Storey ? " I sprang to my feet fired 
 with indignation. "What rest, pray? What rest, I 
 say r 
 
 " The rest ? It is what happens whenever a woman 
 like yourself listens to a man like either of these two. 
 There can be but one rest, Miss Nancy ; there can be, 
 I say " — he rose quietly, forgot his affectations, and 
 spoke quite plainly straight to my face — " but one 
 termination to such an affair as that. If no one else 
 will warn thee, I will. What ? Can you suppose that 
 a person of that position can marry one of the trading 
 class — can marry a Quakeress — one of that despised
 
 140 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 sect? A Quakeress? If he were to do such a thing 
 in the heat and madness of his passion, he would have 
 to conceal and to deny the fact. How would you en- 
 dure the slights, the rudenesses, the cruelties, the sus- 
 picions which such a position would bring upon you ? 
 What friends would you have? Your own? Not so: 
 they would not meet your husband. His friends? 
 They would not meet you. The men would not con- 
 cern themselves about you : the women would hate 
 you. They would leave no stone unturned to make 
 mischief between your husband and you. Nancy, 
 you know nothing of the fine ladies of London. 
 They come to my shop, and I listen to their talk : 
 they regard me not. I am only a shopkeeper : a 
 servant. They say what they please before me : what 
 do they care about a servant's opinion about them ? 
 Their lovers call them angels, but they are fallen 
 angels. They are as false as Belial : as cruel as Death : 
 as vain as peacocks: their cheeks are painted: their 
 hair once belonged to some poor, honest girl : beneath 
 their fine clothes they are made of wood and of whale- 
 bone : they are selfish, greedy, grasping, insatiable as 
 the daughters of the horseleech, and as pitiless as a 
 slave-driver of Virginia." 
 
 He spoke with so much fervour that he moved me. 
 Yet what grounds were there for his outbreak? Noth- 
 ing could be charged against our friends: neither of 
 them had begun to make love, although I felt and 
 understood the truth very well. As for the fine 
 ladies, he had probably received some affront in their 
 behaviour to him which caused this outburst of wrath. 
 What could he know about them ? "
 
 Robert Storey. 14 1 
 
 He sat down and wiped his forehead with his hand- 
 kerchief. Then he composed himself once more, 
 ashamed of his heat, and represented the man who 
 has delivered a message or a prophecy and now smiles 
 gently over the recollection of an effective speech. 
 
 " Mr. Storey," I replied, " I think that what you 
 have said passes all bounds; yet I am willing to be- 
 lieve that you are in earnest. Understand, however, 
 that there is no ground for this suspicion at all — none. 
 And now, if you please, we will end the conversation." 
 
 " One word more, if you will permit. The danger 
 exists: of that I am quite sure: my cousin Isabel 
 ought to perceive it, and to avoid it — even by flight. 
 My passion has perhaps betrayed me into speaking 
 with greater heat than I had intended — pray forgive 
 me. And now, Miss Nancy, hear me quietly on 
 another subject. All these suspicions and whispered 
 scandals can be avoided in one simple way — by marry- 
 ing me." 
 
 He rose again, took one step forward, held out both 
 his arms, and threw his head back in an attitude 
 which he believed to be one of admiration or passion 
 controlled by virtue. 
 
 " By marrying me," he repeated. " Miss Nancy, it 
 is in your power to make a good man happy, not 
 
 a 
 
 I stepped back, and took up a position which en- 
 abled me to have the table between us. 
 
 " By marrying you, Mr. Robert ? " 
 
 " It is the only way. Then the voice of the world, 
 which does not concern itself about honourable wives
 
 142 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 of sober citizens, will pour its calumny upon the name 
 of some other woman. Marry me, Nancy." 
 
 " It is impossible — quite impossible." 
 
 " Nancy, when I think of that other Person playing 
 with thy heart my own is like to burst with rage. Be- 
 lieve me, Nancy, I love thee. Thy image is always 
 before my eyes, day and night Sometimes I come at 
 night and stand under the window here — and think 
 with madness that those two are upstairs with Isabel 
 and you. Nancy, I cannot bear it." 
 
 " Mr. Robert," I said, " it is impossible. Say no 
 more. Leave me now." 
 
 " I must say what I came to say. Consider again : 
 these friends of yours are only playing with you. 
 For you, if not for them, it is playing with fire. For 
 myself, I have no other desire than to make you my 
 partner for life. You know me — I am personable : I 
 have good manners : I come of a good family. In 
 the trade I hold a good position. I have money 
 saved and a reasonable income. I possess shares in 
 many important books. As for reading, few have read 
 more books. For religion, I am a sidesman of St. 
 
 J» »» 
 
 ames s 
 
 "It is no use — oh ! no use at all. Please go away 
 and leave me." 
 
 " I shall prove a fond and loving husband." 
 
 " Mr. Robert, I could not marry you, even if these 
 gentlemen had never come here." 
 
 He looked at me fixedly for some moments. Then 
 he picked up his hat, which had fallen on the ground. 
 
 " Your eyes are hard, Nancy. I perceive plainly
 
 Robert Storey. J 43 
 
 that another presence, not mine, is wanted to make 
 them soft. I say no more for this time. Only, 
 Nancy, when trouble comes, remember that there was 
 a man in your own rank who once loved thee, but was 
 driven away. When trouble comes — it must come — 
 there is no help for it — it must come : remember that 
 it would not have come had you taken that good man, 
 that religious and respectable man, and embarked 
 your money in his business." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Robert." I offered him my 
 hand, but he would not take it. " If trouble comes, I 
 will remember that the same kind of trouble would 
 not have come with you. Believe me, Sir, I would 
 rather have that sort of trouble without you, than any 
 other kind with you." 
 
 So he went away, without any attitudes, quite 
 naturally, and with his face full of rage. He loved 
 me, in his fashion, I dare say, but how could I endure 
 him after that Other? 
 
 This conversation for a time disquieted me. Not 
 all of it. I cared nothing about the difference of 
 station : if two people love each other heartily what 
 matters difference of station ? Nor did I care what 
 he said about the women of fashion, except for the 
 curiosity of it, and to think of the smiling, bowing 
 shopkeeper all the time listening with both ears to 
 the talk of these persons ! No : the part which con- 
 cerned me most was the statement that the time may 
 come to every woman so courted when she can no 
 longer live happily except in the society of the man 
 who courts her.
 
 i44 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 Was that time already come to me? 
 With flushed cheek and beating heart I put the 
 question by.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 The Masquerade. 
 
 THUS slipped away the months of August and Sep- 
 tember. Oh! the happy time ! The sweet and happy 
 time ! In the evening we sang or played cards : some- 
 times we danced : sometimes we read : continually we 
 talked and laughed : continually I saw in the eyes of 
 one that look which no woman, not even the most 
 innocent, can misunderstand ; and in the eyes of the 
 other a look of interest — I will call it brotherly in- 
 terest — with something of anxiety, which now I un- 
 derstand. Always we laughed and were happy. Kind 
 Heaven gives to youth that power of happiness ; but 
 only for a short time, lest men and women should 
 cease to bethink them of the world to come. Should 
 not that glad time of spring warn us that there are 
 joys of which we know not, even sweeter than the joys 
 of love and youth ? 
 
 Sometimes, but not often, we walked together in 
 the morning. Then, as I have said before, people 
 sometimes stared at us : hats were doffed — it becomes 
 more and more wonderful, the more I think of it, that 
 we did not discover the names and the rank of our 
 friends. 
 
 London is full of places where the men amuse
 
 146 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 themselves. There are theatres, masquerades, danc- 
 ing places, gardens such as those at Bagnigge, Vaux- 
 hall, Marylebone, Sadler's Wells, St. George's Fields, 
 and others : there are races, fairs, taverns, clubs, coffee- 
 houses, cock-fighting, boxing, bull-baiting, quarterstaff, 
 wrestling, and other things. Some of these amuse- 
 ments—not many — -are open to gentlewomen. The 
 rest we gladly leave to men, with the drinking, riot- 
 ing, fighting, and robbing that go on afterwards. We 
 talked of these amusements, none of which had either 
 of us seen. They proposed to show us some of them. 
 What would we choose ? 
 
 " Madam," said Sir George, " it has been our happy 
 fortune, so far, to accept your favours. Suffer us to 
 become still more indebted to you by accepting from 
 us in your turn some amusement, however trifling." 
 
 "What say you, Nancy? Sir George is very kind. 
 What would you like?" 
 
 " Should we walk in St. Paul's, or go to see the 
 Royal Exchange?" I asked, not knowing what else 
 to say. 
 
 The brothers looked at each other doubtfully. Sir 
 George replied, with a little hesitation, that there was 
 little pleasure in walking about crowded streets, and 
 being possibly followed and mobbed and stared at. 
 
 " Why should the crowd stare ? " I asked. 
 
 " Because, Miss Nancy," Edward replied quickly, 
 " they always stare at every handsome woman, and 
 they always mob and follow her if she happens to be 
 very handsome." 
 
 It was prettily said, and there was no answer possi-
 
 The Masquerade. 147 
 
 ble, At least none occurred to me. Yet I knew very- 
 well that this was not meant. 
 
 "Should we," I said, "go to see the Court? We 
 are told that any one decently dressed is admitted in 
 the afternoon? I should like to see his Majesty, if 
 only once." 
 
 " I fear not," said Sir George quickly. " The King 
 is old : the Court is now very quiet : it is, I am told, 
 greatly desired to keep it quiet. Your loyalty, Miss 
 Nancy, were better displayed by keeping away. Yet 
 a chance may occur when I might show you St. 
 ames s. 
 
 " Then, Sir George," said my cousin, " should we 
 not leave the choice to yourself? " 
 
 " It is a grave responsibility, Madam," he replied. 
 " Nothing less than to make or to mar the happiness 
 of two most amiable ladies for a whole evening. I 
 say the evening, because at that hour there is less 
 danger of being followed and mobbed." 
 
 This was one of a hundred indications which he 
 gave of an unwillingness to be recognised. For my 
 own part, I could see no reason why any young man 
 should fear recognition, or dread being followed. 
 
 " No one will recognise you, George," said his 
 brother, " outside St. James's Street. But, if you 
 please, let us choose the evening. We will go where 
 we can find company, music, dancing, and supper. 
 Will that please you, Miss Nancy?" 
 
 "What is there, Edward?" asked Sir George. 
 
 " To-night there is a ball at Carlisle House, Soho 
 — one of Madame Cornely's subscription balls,"
 
 148 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 Sir George shook his head. " You can afford to go 
 there, Edward, perhaps. I cannot." 
 
 "What do you say to Vauxhall?" 
 
 " The last time I went there it was full of tallow 
 chandlers." 
 
 " So long as they leave their tallow at home, what 
 matter? What do you say to Ranelagh ? " 
 
 "To walk round and round with a crowd of chatter- 
 ing women all talking about each other. Our friends, 
 brother, would quickly tire of Ranelagh." 
 
 " Well, then, there is a grand masquerade to-morrow 
 evening at the Marylebone Gardens." 
 
 " We could all wear dominoes, I suppose. The 
 place could not possibly be worse than Vauxhall. It 
 might amuse our friends to witness the amusements of 
 the people." 
 
 We looked at each other. A masquerade ! Surely 
 this was not a form of amusement which decorum al- 
 lowed to a lady. 
 
 "You have never seen a masquerade, Madam?" I 
 suppose we both looked astonished. 
 
 " I have always been given to understand," my 
 cousin replied, " that none but females who have lost 
 respect for their reputation are ever seen there." 
 
 " I observe, Madam, with admiration, the jealousy 
 with which City ladies regard their pleasures. It is 
 true that after midnight these masquerades often be- 
 come scenes of riot. Before that hour, they are gen- 
 erally amusing, and sometimes full of surprises and of 
 vivacity. Believe me, dear Madam, we would not in- 
 vite you to an orgy, any more than we would escort 
 you to a cock-fight or a prize-fight."
 
 The Masquerade. 149 
 
 " To be sure, Sir, we can trust ourselves with you. 
 If you think that we could go " 
 
 " I not only think you can, but I think you should, 
 as to a sight worth seeing. Briefly, dear ladies, if you 
 care to be present at a scene of harmless merriment 
 and good-natured frolic, we will attend you there. I 
 think I can promise that you will experience no other 
 inconveniences or rudenesses than one may expect 
 among persons all disguised." He spoke with anima- 
 tion, as if he was anxious that we should go. 
 
 My cousin still hesitated, thus showing that some 
 traces yet remained of her Quaker experiences. For 
 myself, I was now quite abandoned, and ready for any 
 innocent pleasure that the world affords, especially in 
 such company. 
 
 Well, after a little demur, she acquiesced. For my 
 own part, I confess I was most curious to see a public 
 assembly, particularly one in which everybody was in 
 disguise. 
 
 " I am the widow of a sober merchant," said Isabel. 
 " What would that sober merchant — himself a member 
 of the Society of Friends — say and think if he saw his 
 relict at a masquerade disguised and wearing a dom- 
 ino r 
 
 " He would call it the enlargement of your mind, 
 Madam. He was, no doubt, a reasonable person, al- 
 though a Quaker, and has now discovered that the 
 amusements of the world are not only innocent, but 
 laudable. Else why were they created ? Doubtless, 
 he now regrets that on earth he had no share in them. 
 We might even picture," he added gravely, "the soul
 
 150 A Fountain Scaled. 
 
 in Heaven regretting that it never learned to dance 
 on earth." 
 
 It was agreed, then, that we should go to the mas- 
 querade, provided that we were not to remain after 
 supper, when revelry would come in, and manners 
 would go out. As for the characters we were to as- 
 sume, it appeared that if we put on something, or car- 
 ried something appropriate to the character assumed, 
 or to its history, that would be enough to indicate our 
 intention. Otherwise it might be difficult to obtain a 
 dress such as that worn by the character assumed, or, 
 as in the case of that chosen for myself, even impossi- 
 ble. 
 
 We then, sitting round the table, with great solem- 
 nity proceeded to pass in review famous women, begin- 
 ning with the history of our own country and going 
 on to other countries and even back to remote history. 
 You would not believe, if you have not already en- 
 joyed this experience, how difficult it is to choose a 
 character for a masquerade, especially if your friends 
 are jealous of your reputation. First, I remember, we 
 thought of Queen Boadicea, but she would be useless 
 without her chariot and her two daughters, therefore 
 she was dismissed. How could we introduce her char- 
 iot into Marylebone Gardens ? Next Fair Rosamond 
 was proposed, but Sir George objected on account of 
 her character: he could not bear, he said, that Miss 
 Nancy's name should be coupled with one whose con- 
 duct might be forgiven, but could not be forgotten. 
 The same objection was raised to the character of 
 Jane Shore, even if I presented myself barefooted,
 
 The Masquerade. 151 
 
 bareheaded, in a white skirt and carrying a wax taper, 
 doing penance. " I suppose," said Edward, " that we 
 must not so much as mention Nell Gwynne or Lady 
 Castlemaine? " 
 
 " Certainly not," said Sir George, colouring. " How 
 can we even name such persons in this presence ? " 
 
 " There is Anne Boleyn." 
 
 " The mother of Queen Elizabeth. But, if we choose 
 Anne Boleyn, it would be taken as a protest against 
 her execution. One would not choose to condemn 
 the judgment of the King." 
 
 " There is Mary Queen of Scots." 
 
 " For private reasons," said Sir George, " I should 
 take it as a personal honour if Miss Nancy played that 
 part " — I knew not what he meant—" for I believe 
 that if ever any woman was maligned Mary Queen of 
 Scots is one. But I cannot deny that there are grave 
 historians who believe her life to have been what her 
 enemies pretended. Therefore we will pass over the 
 name of Mary. Miss Nancy," he spoke earnestly, 
 " you could not take her part without interesting 
 yourself in her history, which is, I assure you, a tan- 
 gled mass of invention and lies." 
 
 Some one suggested Queen Elizabeth. " Her fea- 
 tures," said Sir George, "were strongly marked: her 
 eyes were piercing : her hair was red : her port was 
 imperious. Miss Nancy, whose eyes are all gentle- 
 ness and softness, and her face all maidenly sweetness, 
 could not possibly represent that part." 
 
 What were we to do then ? Where to find an illus- 
 trious woman ? Observe that none of us were stu-
 
 i$ 2 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 dents of history. However, we proceeded to think of 
 names in ancient history, of which the gentlemen 
 seemed to know something. Most of the names pro- 
 posed were strange to me. For instance, there was 
 the name of Helen of Troy. I had read somewhere 
 that she was the loveliest woman of her time (for 
 which reason it would have been a pleasant piece of 
 presumption to represent her). It now appeared that 
 she had actually run away from her own husband. 
 This deplorable act not only caused a ten years' war 
 and the destruction of a noble city, but also prevented 
 me from attending the masquerade in her character. 
 Queen Dido, for much the same reason, as I con- 
 cluded, for I knew not the history of that sovereign, 
 was next rejected. So also were other Queens and 
 great ladies. Zenobia, Cleopatra, Aspasia, Theodora, 
 and others whose names and actions I have forgotten 
 if I ever knew them, all of them, it appeared, though 
 great in other respects, were (unless they were ma- 
 ligned) cracked in reputation. 
 
 " Should I go as a Vestal Virgin ? " 
 
 " What ! " cried Sir George. " You to go as a wo- 
 man who has forsworn love? Why . . . Miss Nancy, 
 you were born for love." 
 
 " We might," observed his brother, " cause her to 
 accept a lover publicly, and so to break her vows. 
 This would make an interesting play for the masquer- 
 ade. At the same time, for a Vestal to break her vows 
 was anciently thought to be the worst possible omen, 
 and to be productive of the greatest national calami- 
 ties." He looked strangely at his brother as he spoke.
 
 The Masquerade. 153 
 
 "No Vestal Virgin, then," said Sir George. "We 
 will avoid national calamities." 
 
 What was to be tried next? After ancient history, 
 sacred history. It was then suggested that Deborah, 
 Miriam, Judith, or Esther might be attempted. But 
 I could not consent to take into a masquerade — a 
 place containing many scoffers — women belonging to 
 the Bible. 
 
 " Let us try the women of the poets," said my 
 cousin. " There are the creations of Shakspere : 
 Portia the lawyer : the loving Cordelia : the unfortu- 
 nate Ophelia: Juliet, the child of fourteen: Rosalind 
 in the dress of a boy " 
 
 " Nay," said Sir George impatiently — I have said 
 that he loved not poetry — " Miss Nancy must not 
 wear the dress of a boy. Let us leave the foolish 
 poets and find something for her that the world will 
 understand." 
 
 " We waste our time," said his brother. " What 
 character can we find more fitting for Miss Nancy 
 than Venus herself, the Goddess of Love ? " 
 
 "Venus?" cried my cousin, looking up at a certain 
 picture on her walls, " why — how in the world would 
 you present her? " 
 
 " Nothing more easy. She will go in her ordinary 
 white dress, in which Venus herself could not look 
 more divine : she will have a golden belt about her 
 waist : everybody will understand that — all the women 
 who have been compared to Venus by their lovers ; 
 and every man who has been flogged through his 
 Latin Grammar and his Ovid. The golden belt will
 
 154 A Fountain Sealed* 
 
 proclaim her : perhaps you might add a flowing robe 
 of muslin — say blue — to look like the old God's 
 Heaven : and she might carry a sceptre in one hand, 
 and a golden apple in the other. You remember, 
 brother, that the shepherd bestowed the golden apple 
 upon Venus as the most beautiful." 
 
 " Did he?" Sir George was not greatly concerned 
 with mythology. " Perhaps he was right, so long as 
 Miss Nancy was not there." 
 
 I laughed. "You are both bent on making me 
 blush with your compliments. Let me have the 
 golden apple, if you like ; but my sceptre shall be my 
 fan." 
 
 So that was arranged. Then came my cousin. 
 How was she to go ? " As Diana," said Edward. 
 " Madam, as the huntress with a quiver at your back 
 filled with arrows ; a bow in your hand, and a crescent 
 moon above your forehead, the whole world will swear 
 that you are Diana to the life." 
 
 " Shall I be asked to shoot any one ? " asked my 
 cousin. 
 
 " If any one should be rude, you will turn him into 
 a stag and hunt him. You must take care of the 
 whole party, most dread Diana. There is one thing, 
 however, I learned once, that gods and goddesses are 
 jealous. Will the real Venus forgive one before whom 
 her beauty pales ? Will the real Diana burst with 
 envy at the sight of her supplanter? " 
 
 So, after a great deal of talk, this important matter 
 was decided. 
 
 The next morning we spent in the manner cus-
 
 The Masquer ade» 155 
 
 tomary (say necessary) for women who are going to 
 an entertainment where all the world will have on 
 their best frocks. We sat together, that is, with our 
 whole wardrobe spread out before us, and considered 
 what we should wear in the evening. Oh ! Friends, 
 once truly Friends ! Oh ! Society of Friends ! Oh ! 
 solemn Meeting House and silent congregation ! Oh ! 
 Brother with the broad brim ! Oh ! Sisters with the 
 flat straw hat and the grey stuff ! Alas ! How 
 changed was this damsel, once so meek and silent, 
 once wrapped in continual meditation upon things 
 which she could never understand, and tortured by 
 terrors which she could never drive away. Behold her 
 now, full of anxiety — not about her soul — but about 
 her frock ; about her head ; about the decorations of 
 that worthless person which she had been taught to 
 consider was already, even in comely youth, little better 
 than dust and ashes ! 
 
 "Yes, dear child," said Isabel: "the world has plea- 
 sures which draw us on. For my own part, I am cer- 
 tain that we were designed by Heaven always to seek 
 after happiness. When we have settled these things 
 of real importance, I will prove to you by argument 
 that we do right to be happy when we can." 
 
 While we were thus debating, Molly running up 
 and down between kitchen and parlour, grappling 
 with the double cares of dress and dinner, there came 
 a messenger — Molly said he was a footman with a 
 most splendid livery — who brought a large parcel. 
 Imagine our delight when we opened it ! First of all 
 there was Venus's belt of gold — I did not think them
 
 156 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 in earnest about it, but they were. It was a belt of 
 pure gold — what is called filigree gold, of the kind 
 they make in Venice, I am told : it was open-work 
 about three inches broad, with a buckle set with 
 pearls: never was a more delightful belt or girdle. It 
 fitted my waist so perfectly that it would have been 
 miraculous had not Molly confessed to giving the 
 measurement. With the belt was an apple, a large 
 pippin gilt and pierced so as to admit a ribbon with 
 which to tie it to my wrist : and, for sceptre, there 
 was a fan — a large and beautiful fan — painted on one 
 side with Cupids flying, Cupids shooting, Cupids lying 
 hidden behind flowers: and in the midst Venus herself 
 rising out of the waters. All this was meant for me. 
 For Diana there was the bow — about three feet long 
 and adorned with ribbons — a quiver of open silver 
 wire twisted together, and half-a-dozen sticks, feathered 
 and gilt, to represent the arrows of the huntress. In 
 addition, there was a thin silver plate shaped like the 
 crescent moon ; and a fan like mine, but representing 
 the miserable fate of Actaeon when he surprised 
 Diana bathing in the river. 
 
 " My dear," said Isabel, " these things are vanities, 
 indeed. What would your brother say? But Nancy, 
 they mean — what do they mean ? They are rich 
 young men. I sometimes think that they may be of 
 higher rank than they confess. Well : for to-night let 
 us enjoy ourselves — low rank or high rank : they are 
 but men : and when a young man is in love speak he 
 must ere long — or die. I say no more, my dear." 
 
 My frock was the best I had, you may be sure ; of
 
 The Masquerade. *57 
 
 white satin over a great hoop: given to me by Isabel. 
 I was all in white : my cousin's lace adorned my 
 throat and my wrists : I wore a white silver chain 
 about my neck, white gloves and white ribbons in the 
 lofty structure of my head. Our hairdressers came at 
 four, and finished us before six ! Oh ! what a day was 
 that, spent altogether in making oneself fine ! As for 
 my cousin, she swore that she had never enjoyed such 
 a day since she was herself a girl, and went to her first 
 assembly at Grocers' Hall. "To dress thee, Nancy, 
 recalls the day of my first ball before I met my 
 Reuben and turned Quaker. That was a day ! Alack ! 
 That youth should so quickly fly ! Well— to-night the 
 folk shall see Venus herself. And I know who longs 
 to say so — but I say no more, my dear." 
 
 Our escort arrived at about seven with a coach and 
 four horses. They brought the dominoes — oh ! the 
 pretty little black things. How saucy could one be in 
 a domino, with no one to know her name ! 
 
 " Put it on before you get into the coach," said Sir 
 George. " Then no one will recognise you." 
 
 For themselves, they waited till we drew near the 
 place where the crowd began to be thick, before they 
 put on their own. They were dressed with great rich- 
 ness and magnificence, in crimson coats lined with 
 white silk, flowered silk waistcoats, and gold buckles 
 on their shoes. 
 
 Marylebone Gardens lie in the fields (which are now, 
 I hear, mostly built over) north of Tyburn Road. 
 The gates are opposite Marylebone Church, a neat 
 and handsome structure. They are approached by a
 
 J 58 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 lane called the Marylebone Lane. Outside the gates 
 and half-way down Marylebone Lane there was col- 
 lected a crowd of people come to see the dresses and 
 the disguises : link-boys ran along with the carriages, 
 and the people looked in and shouted their approval 
 or the reverse. For ourselves, we received, one is 
 pleased to remember, a continuous roar of approba- 
 tion. " They are so polite," said Sir George, " that 
 one would almost like you to take off your domino." 
 
 For myself, as this was my first experience of the 
 nocturnal pleasures of London, I felt a strange timid- 
 ity of expectation as we entered the gates. There 
 were already a considerable company assembling: 
 and more arrived continually : all were walking in one 
 direction, which we followed. The way led through 
 an avenue of trees, lit with lamps hanging from 
 the branches, but at rare intervals, so that at best 
 there was but twilight in that avenue beyond the 
 gate. Suddenly, however, we burst upon the main 
 avenue. Then, indeed, I started with surprise and 
 admiration. The avenue was broad and long: it had 
 rows of beautiful trees on either side : coloured lamps 
 hung in festoons from tree to tree : there were thou- 
 sands of coloured lamps : we walked beneath these 
 lights, the ladies' dresses showing a quick succession 
 of varying hues : at the end there were certain erec- 
 tions standing out in a blaze of light. As for the 
 company, I paid no attention to them, being wholly 
 absorbed in admiring the beautiful lights. When we 
 came to the end of the avenue we were in an open 
 space, which was boarded over and already crowded
 
 The Masquerade. 159 
 
 with people. In a balcony covered over to keep off 
 rain the band was playing an accompaniment softly, 
 while a woman richly dressed was singing some song, 
 the words of which I could not distinguish. Half the 
 people, however, were not listening. 
 
 On the other side rose another building also filled 
 with light. Behind and between the trees were alcoves 
 illuminated with colored lamps. In these alcoves 
 parties were already gathered over supper and bowls of 
 punch. 
 
 "Behold our masquerade," said Sir George. "We 
 will do what all the world docs. First we will walk 
 round the Hall, and then we will come out to see the 
 mummers." 
 
 We followed the throng and entered, Sir George 
 walking first, with me : and his brother following after 
 with my cousin. I found myself in a large square 
 room : the walls, painted a light blue, were decorated 
 with pictures of nymphs and swans; Loves and god- 
 desses : flowers and fruit : there were also large mir- 
 rors at intervals, in which I observed that the whole 
 company gazed as they passed. A gallery contained 
 accommodation for a band : the floor was smooth for 
 dancing : but to-night, the weather being fair and 
 warm, the dancing was to be outside : round the wall 
 were seats if any chose to rest. 
 
 " We walk round," said Sir George, " and look at 
 each other." 
 
 All the women wore masques, and nearly all were 
 in character of some kind. One in black silk and carry- 
 ing a lute, was the Muse of Comedy. A Turkish
 
 160 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 Sultana in short skirts and full trousers wore a crown 
 to mark her rank : two Greek slaves followed her, 
 clinking their gilded fetters : Queen Elizabeth ruined 
 her part by inattention to the points which we had 
 considered : Dido wept perpetually — when she remem- 
 bered to weep. Queens, mistresses, characters from 
 plays and poetry followed in rapid succession. I 
 know not how many came as Fair Rosamond — you 
 knew her by her bowl of poison : I remember three 
 Jane Shores, all in white, with tapers : Nell Gwynne 
 was so great a favourite that one hopes her history 
 was unknown: Joan of Arc was there in multitudes: 
 as for mythology, one could not have believed that so 
 many women understood the Deities of Olympus. 
 Nymphs of every kind : of the wood : of the stream : 
 of the ocean: displayed their charms with liberality: 
 all the greater goddesses were there, including at least 
 twenty Dianas and a dozen who pretended to play the 
 part of Venus. 
 
 They were all, I have said, in domino. The gentle- 
 men with them were divided about equally, some being 
 in disguise and some not ; some wearing a domino 
 and some not. I observed that the gentlemen, though 
 they affected the finest manners possible, paying 
 extravagant compliments to the ladies, and even walk- 
 ing backwards, did not possess the ease which alone 
 can give to fine manners their charm : their studied 
 gestures reminded me of Robert Storey : when I 
 turned to my partner I observed at once the great 
 difference. Yet they all took infinite pains to show 
 their breeding, handling the snuff-box, for instance,
 
 The Masquerade. 161 
 
 with all the ceremony and pretence which that per- 
 formance demands in the polite world. It has always 
 seemed to me that one secret of good manners is to 
 assume or to pretend that everything is of the great- 
 est value and rarity — even a pinch of snuff : a glass of 
 wine : a slice of chicken : a hat or a wig : a man's 
 opinion : a lady's smile: a woman's face. But all this, 
 which is charming when it is done with ease, just as a 
 good actor will play his part so naturally as to appear 
 not an actor at all, is ridiculous when it is clearly pre- 
 tence and imitation. 
 
 My escort looked about him with an air of good- 
 natured disdain. 
 
 " I wonder," he said, " who they are, and where 
 they come from, and why they think it becoming to 
 mock the manners of gentlefolk." 
 
 " How do you know that they are not gentlefolk ? 
 They are well dressed." I knew for my own part that 
 they were playing at good manners : but I wanted to 
 hear what he would say. 
 
 " Dress maketh not the man," he replied. " What 
 I see is that all this parade of compliment ; this making 
 legs and brandishing hat and snuff-box, is acting — and 
 mostly bad acting. I should like to see their real 
 manners off the stage of the assembly floor — in their 
 counting-house and their shops." 
 
 " Remember, Sir George, that I also am but the 
 daughter. ..." 
 
 He turned his eyes from the crowd to me. " I care 
 not whose daughter you are, Miss Nancy. It is suf- 
 ficient for me to know that you are the most beautb
 
 1 62 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 ful woman in the world, with the finest manners and 
 the best breeding. There is not, believe me, a single 
 Court lady to be compared with thee." He took my 
 hand and pressed it tenderly. The open Assembly 
 Room of Marylebone Gardens is not the place for 
 making love, however, so, for_the moment, he said no 
 more. And then I observed with astonishment that 
 he wore on his breast a splendid great star, blazing 
 with diamonds. I was not so ignorant as not to know 
 that this badge denoted high rank. 
 
 " What," I asked, " is the meaning of this star, Sir 
 George ? You have hidden something from me, have 
 you not? " 
 
 " Have I hidden anything from you, Nancy? Be- 
 lieve me, dear child, there was good reason. I will 
 tell you what it is, if you desire to know." 
 
 " Nay, I am content to wait for your good pleasure. 
 Tell me when you please, so long as you do not treat 
 me as you treat these people, with a domino. Let 
 me see your face and read your mind, Sir George." 
 
 I said no more, but I confess that my heart sank a 
 little. What did I want with rank ? We continued 
 to walk round the room, the people falling back at the 
 side. So great is the respect of the English for rank 
 that they show respect even for the star that indicates 
 it, not knowing even the name of the person it adorns. 
 Yet so much of the Quaker remains in me that I re- 
 spect the man first and his rank next. 
 
 "That Marquis of Exeter" — Sir George went back 
 to the story which had so taken his fancy — " the one 
 who wooed a village maiden and married her and took
 
 The Masquerade. 163 
 
 her to Burleigh House. He did wrongly. He should 
 have kept her in her village all her life. It would have 
 been happier for him to exchange his rank and dig- 
 nity for the life of a simple country gentleman ; and 
 for her to live in ignorance of irksome rank with all 
 its cares and responsibilities. Ah, Miss Nancy ! " he 
 murmured ; " if it could be my happy lot to live with 
 such a companion — so pure and sweet and innocent — 
 untouched by the world — free from ambition, greed, 
 
 or self-interest — content to love her Lord " He 
 
 stopped and sighed. 
 
 We were once more come round to the doors of the 
 assembly room, having walked round it twice or three 
 times in such discourse as the above. At the doors, 
 his brother, with my cousin, was waiting. 
 
 "George," his brother called him, "they are danc- 
 ing on the boards outside. Come out and dance just 
 once. Do you know," he whispered, " you have for- 
 gotten to take off your star? Never mind now. 
 Perhaps they will take it for your disguise : there is 
 another star among the crowd much finer than yours 
 — the diamonds from Drury Lane, I imagine : they 
 mark, no doubt, the rank of a merchant's rider or his 
 accountant." 
 
 Then the Master of the Ceremonies, a very polite 
 gentleman, came up, and with smiling obsequiousness, 
 bowed low to the star. 
 
 " If your Lordship," he said, "will command a min- 
 uet de la cour : if the Queen of Love " — he recognised 
 the emblem — " will consent to walk a minuet with 
 your Lordship "
 
 164 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 " If fair Venus condescends." Sir George led me 
 by the hand into the middle of the floor before all 
 that multitude of eyes. I know that they were ask- 
 ing each other to whom the star belonged and who 
 was the lady his partner. I knew that they were 
 expecting to witness the manner and style of the 
 dance as practised in the highest circles. Alas ! my 
 dancing mistress was but the daughter of one City 
 merchant and the widow of another ; my style was 
 that of the City assembly. 
 
 The band struck up the first bars. The dance be- 
 gan. I have reason to remember that dance because 
 it was the first and the last dance that I ever per- 
 formed in a public place. 
 
 You have seen how I sometimes danced with Sir 
 George at home. I therefore knew, at least, his style, 
 and had borrowed something, perhaps, of his dignity. 
 He moved, indeed, through the dance with a courtli- 
 ness and an authority quite in keeping with the spirit 
 of the dance, which is intended, as some say, to indi- 
 cate the true position of our sex, and to show how we 
 should be treated with the greatest possible honour 
 and respect, if only to make us endeavour after the 
 virtues which the men attribute to us. Others there 
 are who see in the minuet the progress of a courtly 
 amour. The whole company stood round and looked 
 on while we two alone occupied the floor : and prob- 
 ably on account of the star, they all applauded loudly 
 when we finished. Then we retired, and they made a 
 lane to let us pass. 
 
 "Nancy," said my cousin, " we are proud of you. 
 Everybody was charmed."
 
 The Masquerade* 165 
 
 " No one so much charmed as her partner," said Sir 
 George. 
 
 Then the masques ran over the floor and seized it, 
 so to speak ; and some began to dance — the music 
 playing a noisy tune — in country dances, while others 
 ran about making jokes and rough play. For half a 
 dozen would get together and get something that be- 
 longed to their characters : there were clowns and 
 French Pierrots all in white : there were dancing har- 
 lequins : there were sailors in petticoats dancing horn- 
 pipes : there were shepherds and shepherdesses with 
 crooks and ribbons : there were negroes : there were 
 milkmaids : there were queens without dignity ; and 
 judges without authority: there were devils who 
 caused no fear; in short, it was a scene of pure merri- 
 ment and of simple frolic, so far, without apparent 
 rudeness or license. As we stood aloof, yet were the 
 object of much attention, some of the mummers came 
 out and ventured to pray to me as to a goddess. 
 
 " Fair Venus," cried one, " soften the heart of my 
 mistress or I die " ; or, " Great .Goddess ! incline my 
 mistress's heart," and so forth. One brought a censer, 
 such as they use in Roman Catholic churches, and 
 swung it before me. 
 
 " Come," said Sir George, " we shall presently have 
 too much of this, brother ; let us to supper." 
 
 In one of the alcoves we found waiting for us some 
 partridges, with a salad and a bottle of Lisbon ; and, 
 after the Lisbon, a bowl of punch. 
 
 From our supper-table we could look out upon the 
 revellers capering and acting and laughing on the
 
 1 66 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 dancing-stage. Now while we sat there, the gentle- 
 men over their punch, I was surprised to see under 
 the trees before our alcove Dr. Mynsterchamber him- 
 self. What was he doing in this place, at his age ? 
 He had three or four gentlemen with him. They 
 were all masked, but I knew the Doctor by his long 
 lean figure and by the old brown coat which he wore, 
 frayed and threadbare. What was the Doctor doing 
 in the Gardens? Why did he and his friends keep 
 looking into our alcove ? Why did they stand out- 
 side waiting, while all the other people walked about ? 
 The sight of that old hawk made me uneasy, I knew 
 not why. 
 
 Then I observed another strange thing. Under the 
 trees in a place not illuminated, I discerned, having 
 eyes both strong and quick, two figures familiar to 
 me. Presently I made out that they were Captain 
 Sellinger and Corporal Bates. Strange. The Captain 
 at the Gardens in company with a corporal ! Was he 
 drunk? No; he stood upright, a cane in his hand, 
 without the support of any one. What were they 
 doing? 
 
 About half-past eleven, when the music was at its 
 loudest, the mummers at the merriest, and queens, 
 goddesses, nymphs, and heroines were all jumping 
 about like Blowsabella of the Village Green : when 
 from the alcoves near us men were bawling songs, 
 whose words, happily, were lost to us, we rose to go, 
 sorry to leave the scene of so much mirth, yet anxious 
 not to witness the scenes of disorder which take 
 place later. Many ladies were directing their steps
 
 The Masquerade. * 6 7 
 
 towards the gates at the same time and for the same 
 reason. 
 
 When we stood outside the alcove, just before we 
 started, the Doctor and his friends moved forward. 
 With what object I know not. At that moment Cap- 
 tain Sellinger stepped out of the shade followed by 
 the Corporal. They marched straight to the place 
 where we were standing : and there they stood beside 
 us, but facing the Doctor and his party. 
 
 No one seemed to notice this movement except my- 
 self. We then walked along the avenue of trees, Sir 
 George leading me and Edward, my cousin. Behind 
 us, but at some distance, walked the Captain and the 
 Corporal ; behind them the Doctor and his party. 
 
 When we reached the gates and got into the coach, 
 I looked again. Just within the gates stood the Cap- 
 tain barring the way. And the Doctor and his party 
 stood irresolute. For some reason or other I felt sure 
 that they were baffled, and for no reason at all I con- 
 nected their proposed action with the gallant youth 
 who held my hand in the coach.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Molly and the Corporal. 
 
 HITHERTO I have told you what I saw and did and 
 heard myself. I must now ask you to read something 
 which bears upon this history, yet was confessed or 
 delivered to me by another or by others. 
 
 It is nothing less than the reason why Captain Sel- 
 linger was at Marylebone Gardens that evening. 
 
 Servants, especially women, are always listening and 
 prying, the ear at the door ajar, the eye at the key- 
 hole. It affords them, I suppose, some pleasure, unin- 
 telligible by ourselves, to find out what is going on, 
 even when there is nothing to conceal. 
 
 My own maid Molly, a person of great curiosity, 
 though in other respects an excellent woman, when 
 she was not watching her mistress and trying to make 
 out which was the lover, turned her attention to the 
 other residents of the house. The Corporal and Mrs. 
 Bates had become her intimate friends : Captain Sel- 
 linger provoked no curiosity — a man who is drunk 
 every day cannot be interesting to a woman who nat- 
 urally prefers Apollo to Bacchus : therefore there re- 
 mained only the Doctor. 
 
 'There is something wrong," she said— one cannot
 
 Molly and the Corporal. 169 
 
 stop the tongue of a woman when she is dressing your 
 hair. " The Doctor keeps the key of the garden door " 
 — it opened out upon the park. " He has friends 
 calling all day long : they come in at the front door, 
 and he lets them out by the garden door. He thinks 
 I can't see out of the kitchen window for the shrubs, 
 but I can. They whisper in the passage : sometimes 
 they go out quite late at night." 
 
 One did not encourage her in these confidences; 
 but it was strange. What was the man doing that he 
 should receive visitors by day and night in this secret 
 manner ? He might be a wizard, perhaps : or a for- 
 tune-teller, or an astrologer: there are always plenty 
 of these gentry about for those who wish to learn the 
 future and make themselves miserable beforehand ; to 
 be sure, the Doctor looked like a gentleman though he 
 went about with torn ruffles and ragged skirts. How- 
 ever, the subject concerned us not, and, besides, there 
 were more pleasant things to think about. 
 
 But Molly communicated her suspicions to the Cor- 
 poral, who frequently took a pipe of tobacco in the 
 kitchen of an evening with a tankard of our small ale, 
 to which the honest fellow was truly welcome. 
 
 He listened carelessly, at first, as not concerned 
 with a prying woman's chatter : a gentleman had a 
 right to receive his friends at one door and to let them 
 out at another if he pleases. There is no law against 
 whispering in the passage : one is not compelled to go 
 to bed at midnight. 
 
 "But," said Molly, mysteriously, "they talk a for- 
 eign jargon."
 
 170 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 "What language?" he asked. " Molly, it may be 
 pure Yorkshire or Welsh." 
 
 " It may be French," she replied. And at this the 
 Corporal sat up, attentive. 
 
 At that time, as everybody knows, we were at war 
 with France. If it was French, what did Frenchmen 
 do in St. James's Place? The Corporal, therefore, 
 became thoughtful : he put down his pipe and con- 
 sidered the subject. Presently, after binding Molly 
 over on the New Testament to secrecy, he told her 
 that he thought it might be worth his while to become, 
 for the first time in his life, a spy ; he would watch 
 and listen : he would find out why this company 
 talked a foreign language. A spy, he explained, was 
 a person whose occupation justly stinks; yet in such 
 a cause as this: for country and King: as a soldier: 
 a man must not shrink. Besides, he confessed, much 
 advantage, in case of the thing proving important, 
 might accrue to his own interests. 
 
 He was moved, therefore, to turn spy, and to watch 
 the Doctor closely and constantly. 
 
 "The thing," he said, "must be done by rule and 
 plan, as one lays siege to a fortification. Let us con- 
 sider. At two the Doctor goes to his dinner: he re- 
 turns at six. He, therefore, after dinner, sits in the 
 coffee-house. His habits and his hours are fixed. 
 Molly, I shall procure a master-key. That in our 
 hands, we will to-morrow shut the front door when the 
 Doctor goes out, and I will then secretly make a first 
 examination of the country." 
 
 This he did. He found the room as you have
 
 Molly and the Corporal. 171 
 
 heard. There were papers on the table which he did 
 not disturb ; but he examined the wall. The room 
 was wainscotted like our own upstairs. He measured 
 a certain distance from the fireplace at the height of 
 his own eye : he then came out having touched noth- 
 ing on the table, nor opened the cupboard or the box. 
 " That will do for a beginning," he said. " You can 
 open the front door again, Molly, and the Doctor 
 may return when he pleases." 
 
 He then returned to the kitchen, the walls of which 
 were plastered with a yellow stuff : he scraped away a 
 square space at a place corresponding to his measure- 
 ments in the other room, and with some difficulty re- 
 moved two or three bricks from the party-wall. He 
 could then put his eye close to the wainscotting in 
 the other room. " A small skewer, Molly," he called. 
 With this he made half-a-dozen little holes in the 
 wainscotting which would be invisible the other side. 
 " Excellent ! I can now command the table, and I 
 think I shall hear what they say. Molly, there must 
 be no talking in the kitchen while these bricks are 
 out. Every evening I shall take them out : every 
 evening I shall put them back : you must cover the 
 place with a frying-pan or something in the daytime." 
 
 In the evening, about nine o'clock, the Doctor's 
 friends arrived : there were four or five of them, and 
 they entered by the front door singly and without 
 knocking at the door, which stood open. 
 
 The Corporal took down the frying-pan, removed 
 the bricks, and stood prying through one of the holes, 
 and listened intently.
 
 172 A Fountain Sealed* 
 
 " Molly," he murmured, " they are talking French. 
 A fortunate chance indeed that I should understand 
 that language." 
 
 So he listened again, very earnestly. " Molly," he 
 murmured presently, " they are the greatest villains 
 unhung. They are traitors: they are rebels: they 
 are . . ." Again he applied himself. 
 
 In a word, save for occasional whispered ejacula- 
 tions, the Corporal stood there till eleven o'clock, 
 when the Doctor arose and let out his friends by the 
 back way, Molly blowing out the candle so that he 
 should not suspect. 
 
 The Corporal replaced the bricks, hung up the fry- 
 ing-pan, and went to bed, where he lay awake all 
 night long, thinking what he had better do. 
 
 In the morning he came down, greatly moved and 
 agitated. " Molly," he whispered, " not a word, even 
 to your ladies. You have sworn. There will be mur- 
 der if you talk. Not a word, Molly, on your life. 
 And now go call my wife downstairs." She came 
 down, the poor patient thing, so hard-worked, so anx- 
 ious about her brats. " My dear," he said, " cheer up. 
 Let us rejoice. Look out upon the world with smil- 
 ing face. Behold the sun : the clouds fly, the rain 
 stops, I see fair weather coming. My dear, something 
 is going to happen — some great thing — I know not 
 yet what ; but some great thing. I must drink to my 
 good fortune. If you please, Molly, a tankard — we 
 will all drink. Give it to me. Ha ! " He poured out 
 a glass and held it up to the light. " It foams and 
 sparkles, and the bubbles rise. They rise like me, my
 
 Molly and the Corporal. 173 
 
 dear. For thy husband this day is a made man. It 
 shall mean — I swear — my commission — long deferred 
 — nothing less." He still held the glass to the light. 
 
 " My dear," said his wife, " has trouble driven thee 
 distraught ? " 
 
 " Distraught ? I ? Nay, it is not trouble before us, 
 but joy. My dear, I am like unto one who lights on 
 buried treasure. I see before me a splendid future. 
 Let us drink first to the Lieutenant — that is, to me 
 myself: next to the Lieutenant's charming wife — to 
 thee, my dear: then to the Captain's lovely consort — 
 to thee, my dear; and lastly, to the Colonel's honoured 
 lady — to thee, Madam, to thee." 
 
 " Oh ! what does this mean ? " she asked. 
 
 " I drink to you, my dear — always to you — in silk 
 and satin, the Pride of the Regiment !" 
 
 He finished the tankard and set it down. "And 
 now," he said, " I go to consult Captain Sellinger. I 
 am the bearer of State news — State Despatches. I 
 am a Royal Messenger! " 
 
 " Well, Sir," said Molly, " the Captain was put to 
 bed last night, and he will be sleeping still." 
 
 That was, in fact, the case. The Corporal had, 
 therefore, to wait until noon, when he waited upon 
 him while he was dressing. 
 
 " Sir," said the Corporal, " my errand shall prove, I 
 make bold to say, an excuse for this intrusion upon 
 your privacy." 
 
 " Corporal, you have your Lieutenants : you have 
 the Captain of your troop. If your business concerns 
 your troop, go to them,"
 
 i74 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 " It does not, Sir. It is a business of so great im- 
 portance that I crave permission to pour it into your 
 Honour's ears. After that, if you so direct, I will take 
 it to my own Captain." 
 
 "Go on, then, Corporal. But first give me the 
 tankard." The Captain took a long drink of that re- 
 freshing creature, small ale, with which he would al- 
 ways revive his spirits in the morning. " So," he 
 said, " the night was cheerful : the punch was strong." 
 He sat on the table in his shirt sleeves, his stockings 
 down at heel, his hair not dressed. " Now I am ready ; 
 go on, Corporal." 
 
 What he heard was what you have already surmised. 
 The Doctor on the ground floor was both a Jacobite and 
 a French spy. His friends, also Jacobites, appeared 
 to be of English descent, but, as they spoke French 
 fluently, were probably the sons or grandsons of those 
 who formed the Court of James II. in exile, whom he 
 created earls and barons. They were talking over the 
 chances of a rising or demonstration in favour of the 
 Pretender whenever the King, who was already seventy- 
 seven years of age, should die. For greater security 
 as they fondly thought, they conversed in French. As 
 for their hopes they were assured of support in many 
 quarters — it was not, remember, more than fifteen years 
 from the Rebellion of 1745, which so nearly succeeded. 
 
 That was the general purport of the nightly meet- 
 ings. 
 
 " You say," said the Captain, thoughtfully, after an- 
 other draught of ale, " that they have papers and lists 
 with them."
 
 Molly and the Corporal. 175 
 
 "They were lying on the table." 
 
 " If the Doctor has them in his keeping we can se- 
 cure them easily. However — Hark ye, Corporal, this 
 business should be told to your Captain. If it be- 
 comes a case for trial, you must show that you went to 
 the right quarter." 
 
 " By your leave, Sir, one minute more." 
 
 " If they want to proclaim James Francis Edward " 
 — the Captain went on — " let them. I would counsel 
 encouraging them till they grew confident. We shall 
 then know who are his friends in the country and 
 shall be able to hang 'em all and so an end." 
 
 " But this is not all, Sir." 
 
 " Not all ! What the devil would the fellow have ? 
 Will they carry off the King?" 
 
 " You shall hear, Sir. They have hatched a most 
 diabolical plot, which will be carried into execution 
 this very evening : or to-morrow evening, as the cir- 
 cumstances will allow." 
 
 " Go on, man. Come to the point. What is their 
 plot?" 
 
 " In one word, Sir. Two young gentlemen, as your 
 Honour very well knows, come to this house often 
 and always in the evening. Your Honour knows 
 their faces very well. So do I, although but a cor- 
 poral, and for the same reason. Well, Sir, they shall 
 be nameless. At ten o'clock, or thereabouts, they 
 come downstairs, thinking of nothing : the stairs are 
 dark : suppose an ambuscade ot half-a-dozen men in 
 the dark passage : suppose the Doctor's door suddenly 
 thrown open ; there is a rush : the two gentlemen are
 
 176 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 seized — gagged — handcuffed. In the place outside 
 waits a coach : at Westminster Bridge stairs waits a 
 boat : in the pool lies a ship ready to weigh anchor 
 and drop down the river, and so cross to the coast of 
 France." 
 
 The Captain sprang to his feet, dropping the tank- 
 ard and spilling the beer. " Corporal Bates," he cried, 
 " I believe you are a liar of the first water." 
 
 " I wish I was, Sir. But for my truth and honesty 
 I might now be commanding my company." 
 
 " This is the most desperate villainy ! This is un- 
 heard of ! The King so old 'that he may die any day 
 . . . How many of them are there ? " 
 
 " Not more than six, I should say. But there may 
 be more behind." 
 
 " Yes — more behind, perhaps — but no more for an 
 attempt in a narrow passage. Corporal, if you are 
 lying . . ." 
 
 " Sir," said the Corporal, taking a Bible which lay, 
 more for show, I fear, than for use, in the window, " I 
 swear, upon this sacred volume " — he kissed it — " by 
 all my hopes of eternal happiness ; by the sacred 
 name of God Almighty, that every word is true. Cap- 
 tain, this evening will show that I am no liar. The 
 ship which waits for them is a brig called the Tower of 
 Brill, Amsterdam. The captain has been bought, 
 though I believe he does not know the names of the 
 gentlemen he is to take across. He will sail into 
 French waters and will become a French prize : the 
 coach has been hired : it will be driven by one of the 
 conspirators : they will assemble to-night, and in the
 
 Molly and the Corporal. 177 
 
 Doctor's room : they have not yet decided whether to 
 make the attempt on the stairs or as the gentlemen 
 are walking out of the door." 
 
 The Captain looked at him seriously. " I cannot 
 choose but believe you, my man. Well — how best to 
 tackle this villainy ? " 
 
 He proceeded to dress leisurely, turning upon the 
 Corporal at intervals with a question, while he turned 
 the matter over in his mind. 
 
 " Corporal, you are ready to fight in this cause?" 
 
 " Sir, I ask nothing better. And I am a master in 
 the art of fence, which I teach, with fortification and 
 the forms of siege." 
 
 "Corporal, you can be silent?" 
 
 " Sir, I am a soldier — therefore silent. I teach the 
 art of war, with the soldier's duties, to all who come." 
 
 " Corporal, you have a wife, I understand. Can she 
 hold her tongue ?" 
 
 "The poor creature knows nothing of this busi- 
 ness." 
 
 " Corporal, you appear to be a man of courage." 
 
 " Will your Honour give me the command of a for- 
 lorn hope?" 
 
 " Does any one in this house, or out of it, know these 
 visitors? " 
 
 " I think not, Sir. Molly, the maid, knows that 
 they come. You and I are the only two who know." 
 
 " Hark ye, Corporal. This is not an affair to take to 
 Bow Street. It is one in which your loyalty will be 
 best shown in keeping the thing dark. If it were to 
 succeed the Lord only knows what would happen. If
 
 178 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 it were to fail with a fight and half a dozen killed and 
 wounded and the noise of it spread over the whole 
 world, there would be a proper kind of scandal indeed. 
 No : the attempt itself must be prevented. Now, 
 Corporal, you and I must prevent it for the sake of the 
 ladies. Our services will not be put in the Gazette : 
 there will be no promotion for us : yet I take it upon 
 me to assure you that you shall be no loser." 
 
 The poor Corporal hung his head. Silence and 
 secrecy ! And he had dreamed of a fight : slaughter of 
 the conspirators : and himself the hero of the fray ! 
 And, after all, silence and secrecy ! 
 
 " I repeat, Corporal, you shall be no loser. Very 
 well. You and I must mount guard together every 
 night from the time these villains arrive till the time 
 they go away. And we must escort these gentlemen 
 unseen home. Meantime, you are sure that the ladies 
 know nothing about it ? " 
 
 " I am certain they do not." 
 
 " Humph ! Give Molly, the maid, this guinea to 
 keep her mouth shut. Very good. Let me think." 
 He sat on the table again and buried his nose in the 
 tankard, now empty. Custom connected the attitude 
 with the assistance of thought. 
 
 The Corporal, meanwhile, pulled out of his pocket a 
 paper, which he unrolled and smoothed upon the table. 
 " It is a plan, Sir, drawn to scale, of the ground floor. 
 Here is the Doctor's room : here the stairs : here is the 
 kitchen : here the back door, the garden, and the gar- 
 den door. I drew it this morning for your Honour's 
 
 »» 
 use,
 
 Molly and the Corporal. 179 
 
 "You are a man of infinite accomplishments, Cor- 
 poral. This is admirable. Well, I think a little sand 
 in the lock of the garden door will stop their retreat, 
 in case we come to cold steel, which I doubt. This, 
 evening, Corporal, you will patrol the passage and the 
 back garden. If you find a man or two in ambus- 
 cade, run him through. I will take the consequences 
 — run him through." 
 
 " I will, Sir." The Corporal drew himself up and 
 smiled satisfaction. 
 
 " Have a candle burning in the passage or at the 
 bend of the stairs: have another in the kitchen. 
 Don't hide yourself : make a little noise to show that 
 you are there. I will take the court and the front 
 door. Remember, man, we want to prevent them, not 
 to draw them on : we want to save certain gentlemen 
 from a scandal and certain ladies from things which 
 would be believed and said about them." 
 
 That night the Doctor's friends were assembled : 
 the coach was waiting : those who were to hide under 
 the stairs found a candle burning in the passage and a 
 soldier carelessly walking about : the man on the coach- 
 box observed that another, an officer, was standing 
 on the door-steps or walking backwards and forwards 
 before the door : one or two came out of the Doctor's 
 room and observed him. At about ten o'clock there 
 were steps on the stairs : the Doctor's door was 
 opened and his head was poked out. The two gentle- 
 men came down : they stood on the door-step : be- 
 hind them was the Corporal, beside them was the 
 Captain. They walked away : after them, at a little
 
 i So A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 distance, followed the Captain and the Corporal. 
 Then the Doctor's friends got into their coach and 
 silently drove away. 
 
 We knew nothing about this nightly watch, but 
 the guard at Marylebone could not be passed over. I 
 asked Captain Sellinger what it meant. " We are not 
 Princesses," I said, " to want a guard of honour." 
 
 " Nobody more deserves a guard of honour, Miss 
 Nancy." He looked at me strangely and anxiously. 
 
 " But you seemed to come after us." 
 
 "Highwaymen are about: foot-pads are hanged 
 every day by the dozen : pickpockets, hustlers, ruf- 
 fians, are as common as oysters. Ladies must be pro- 
 tected." 
 
 " Thank you, Captain Sellinger," I replied. " But 
 ladies do not ask for better protection than that of their 
 own escort. We have two very gallant gentlemen for 
 our escort." 
 
 " Villains abound. London is full of dangers. 
 There can be no other reason, Miss Nancy, since you 
 know of none."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 A River Party. 
 
 After the masquerade, the next event of interest 
 was our party on the river. It took place one evening 
 early in October, when the sun sets soon after five. 
 The weather, however, in that year was, for the season, 
 open and mild — even warm, so that the freshness of 
 the air upon the river and its coolness were pleasant. 
 
 When our friends first proposed this excursion, I 
 looked forward to nothing more than to be tugged up 
 the river by two pairs of brawny arms, and to be re- 
 galed by the horrid language of the rowers : in short, 
 such a pleasure-party as may be seen upon the river 
 whenever the weather is fine. We should probably, 
 also, be splashed with water during the voyage. There- 
 fore, I looked forward to it with no great pleasure, ex- 
 cept for the society which I had— alas ! — already learned 
 to desire so much. 
 
 It was arranged that we should be at the Whitehall 
 Stairs, whither Corporal Bates escorted us, at the hour 
 of half-past four. Whitehall Stairs, formerly the stairs 
 of the Palace, of which little now remains, are not a 
 very convenient place for two gentlewomen to be kept 
 waiting, though they are less frequented than many 
 others, and consequently less disgusting for ears of
 
 1 82 A Fountain Sealed* 
 
 delicacy. I wonder if there will ever arrive a time 
 when the watermen of London will learn to speak 
 with decency and to affirm without blasphemy. 
 
 But we were not kept waiting, for, true to time, the 
 boat which was to convey us came sweeping up the 
 river, and was held by a hook to the long pole or 
 mast at the end of the stairs. Boat, do I call it ? Why, 
 Queen Cleopatra herself, whose barge is represented in 
 one of my cousin's pictures, never had so beautiful a 
 vessel : nor had Queen Elizabeth anything, I am sure, 
 half so fine when she took the air upon the river : nor 
 has the Lord Mayor a finer vessel when he comes up 
 the river on the ninth day of November : nor has any 
 City Company a more beautiful vessel. It was a barge 
 capable of holding I know not how many people : 
 within and without it was all carved work, bright paint 
 and gilded wood : most lovely was she — every boat is 
 feminine — to look at as she lay upon the water : her 
 bows rose up high, with a figurehead representing a 
 maiden, all (apparently) of pure gold : in the middle 
 she was low, and she rose again in the stern : she had 
 six oars on each side : the men wore a scarlet livery : 
 the man who took the helm was also in scarlet : two 
 or three footmen, also in scarlet, stood about beside 
 the steersman : a cabin or chamber was constructed 
 in front of the helm : that is to say, neither in the 
 middle nor in the stern, but between the two: the 
 roof was supported by slim and elegant intertwined 
 pillars of carved wood : the sides were open, but there 
 were velvet curtains to be drawn if the air should 
 prove cold : round the sides were cushioned seats : in
 
 
 
 HI 
 
 lull i 
 
 II 
 
 • , ->' 
 
 
 vH 
 
 u bO HE HANDED US INTO THE CABIN." — Page l8j.

 
 A River Party, 183 
 
 th« middle stood a small table, at present with nothing 
 upon it : in the bows was a band of music, hautboys, 
 horns, harps, violins, and other instruments. 
 
 When we came down the stairs the harpist ran his 
 fingers over the strings and struck up the old air, 
 " How should I my true love know ? " This I received 
 as a compliment to myself, because I once said that 
 a harp moved me more than any other instrument 
 and another time said that I liked the tune of " How 
 should I my true love know." 
 
 "Heavens!' murmured my cousin. "Where did 
 they get this splendid barge? It is not one of the 
 City barges, or I should know it." 
 
 " Welcome ! " said Sir George, stepping on to the 
 stairs. " We have luckily secured this barge. I hope 
 it will prove comfortable." So he handed us into the 
 cabin and placed us at the end, taking his own seat on 
 the right-hand side by me, and his brother sitting op- 
 posite on the left-hand of Isabel. 
 
 And then they pushed off the boat, and the voyage, 
 which remains graven upon my heart to this day, 
 began. Oh! that the happy day could come back 
 again ! Oh ! that one could not only remember past 
 joys and recall sweet words, but also see the lovely 
 youth once more, rejoicing in his manhood, full of 
 love and happiness ! But for the hope that, somehow, 
 we cannot imagine in what way, vanished joys will be 
 restored to us, life •would be too sad for endurance. 
 We should accuse Providence, and die hopeless. They 
 pushed off the boat, I say, and we dropped down into 
 the open stream. Over our heads hung or streamed
 
 184 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 out a long silken pennant : thus were flags flying in 
 the bows and at the stern : the boat was all glorious 
 within and without : my heart beat : my colour came 
 and went : my eyes, I know not why, filled with tears : 
 and Sir George gazed upon me fondly and fixedly as 
 if he could never have enough. 
 
 We passed without accident through the arches of 
 Westminster Bridge and pursued our stately way, the 
 oars lifting and falling without noise, up the river be- 
 yond the houses and buildings which cease at Lambeth 
 and are followed by low shores with trees, fields, and 
 market-gardens, and a house here and there. 
 
 The course of the river at Westminster is nearly 
 north and south : before reaching Chelsea the river 
 bends to the west : here we faced the sun, now wester- 
 ing rapidly : before us the river lay spread out like a 
 sheet of red gold reflecting the sky above, which was 
 truly like a vision of the New Jerusalem. 
 
 " This is a dream of fairyland," said my cousin. 
 
 " I have seen many sunsets on the Atlantic," said 
 Edward ; " both sunsets over a rough sea and sunsets 
 over a sea as smooth as this river to-night ; and I have 
 seen sunsets in the Mediterranean : but give me still 
 the river Thames." 
 
 " My brother is happier than I," Sir George added. 
 " He is a sailor and can travel. I must stay at home. 
 Therefore I rejoice to hear that our Thames is as 
 beautiful as any of the famous rivers of foreign lands." 
 
 The tide was flowing and nearly high: the river 
 seemed brimming over, it was so full : the water was 
 covered with swans floating about by twos and threes — ■
 
 A River Party. 185 
 
 there were hundreds of the graceful creatures ; there 
 were also many boats on the river. Mostly they con- 
 tained girls and their sweethearts (one supposes they 
 were sweethearts) enjoying like us the freshness of the 
 air and their own society : and there were many of the 
 huge unwieldy barges filled to the water's edge with 
 hay or with casks or coals or iron, working their way 
 up stream with the tide, the men on board tugging at 
 their long sweeps. 
 
 The scene was so beautiful that we sat in silence, 
 ravished by the sight. And all this time the harper 
 played to us, changing his tune continually into some- 
 thing still more sweet and beautiful. Thus he played, 
 " Early one morning, just as the sun was rising," 
 " Drink to me only with thine eyes " — when Sir George 
 began to sing my song softly — " Begone, dull care," 
 " Sweet, if you love me," " The dusky night rides 
 down the sky " ; and more. The smaller boats, as we 
 swept along, tried to keep up with us for the delight 
 of the music : but could not, so they huzzaed and let 
 us go on our way. Presently the sun sank, and before 
 long there fell upon the world a soft and sweet twi- 
 light, on which rose a moon glorious and beautiful. 
 
 "Will the ladies take their regale now, brother?" 
 asked Edward. 
 
 " Sir, can you speak of eating in such a scene as 
 this?" replied my cousin. 
 
 But she sat up as if in readiness — while two of the 
 footmen quickly spread the cloth and laid upon it the 
 supper. Truly, the supper would tempt an ankress, if 
 any ankresses yet remain to mortify their appetites
 
 1 86 A Fountain Sealed* 
 
 and serve the Lord by starving. For there were 1 
 pheasants and grouse — the latter bird brought out of 
 Yorkshire, we were told, by flying post, so that the 
 brace on our table had actually been shot two hundred 
 and fifty miles away, two days before. And there was 
 fruit of all kinds, pears, peaches, plums, grapes, the 
 most costly and the most delicious that the country 
 can produce. 
 
 It was now nearly dark. Then a new surprise 
 awaited us. For, as if by magic, there appeared hang- 
 ing round'the high bows of the barge a kind of crown 
 of gleaming lamps of all colours, and a footman lit 
 candles in our cabin, and we found ourselves sitting in 
 a blaze of light. Then the harpist stopped, and the 
 horns and the hautboys began tossing the music out 
 upon the waters, which tossed it on to the shore, and 
 so it came echoing back. If this world, I thought, can 
 be made so heavenly, what must Heaven itself be like? 
 
 " Come," said our host, when we had exclaimed and 
 applauded, " let us see what they have given us for 
 supper. It will be found, I fear, a poor offering in 
 return for your great kindness in coming." 
 
 Their poor offering was, I have said, a most delicate 
 little banquet. One wanted nothing: the fresh air, 
 the gleaming lights, the music of the horns, the com- 
 pany and conversation of our entertainers, were as 
 exhilarating as the wine and as staying as the chicken 
 and partridge. It must be confessed that we did 
 justice to these viands, cheered as they were by the 
 lively sallies of Edward, and the graver discourse of 
 his brother.
 
 A River Party. 187 
 
 Supper finished, the footman who had been stand- 
 ing behind the cabin came in and rapidly carried ©ff 
 the dishes, leaving in their place a bowl of punch. He 
 also extinguished the candles in the cabin and left us 
 in the light produced by the glass lamps in the bows. 
 
 Beside me sat Sir George. He had been pensive 
 and even melancholy during the supper, gazing from 
 time to time upon me with eyes that now I under- 
 stand. Sad is the lot of the woman upon whom those 
 eyes have never rested : eyes full of tenderness, and 
 respect, and longing. The memory of those eyes 
 remains with me to comfort my lonely age : " Once," 
 they say, " thou wert fair and a man loved thee for 
 thy beauty : once thou wert so fair that a man be- 
 lieved thee to have all the virtues that belong to an 
 angel : once wast thou thought so fair that a man wor- 
 shipped thee as one worships a wood-nymph or a 
 goddess of the heathen." 
 
 "What think you of our music, fair Nancy?" he 
 said, bending over me. 
 
 It was now, I say, almost dark in our cabin save for 
 the lights in the bows : the rowers lifted and dipped 
 their oars noiselessly : the music was gentle : the air 
 was soft : my heart was well-nigh full of happiness. 
 And now I was to be lifted out of myself — yea — to 
 the seventh heaven — with such joy as I never thought 
 could fill a human heart. 
 
 "The music," I replied, "seems to celebrate the 
 happiness of this evening. Yet for a touch I could 
 weep. Why does music move one to tears?" 
 
 He laid his left hand timidly round my waist : with
 
 J 88 A Fountain Sealed, 
 
 the right he took my hand and kissed it. " Sweet 
 Nancy," he whispered, "believe that I would die 
 rather than bring a tear into those eyes. If the music 
 makes thee sad, sweet girl, it shall cease." 
 
 ' Nay, but there are tears of joy as well as of sad- 
 ness." I tried to withdraw my hand, but he held it 
 firmly. Besides, it was the kind of capture to which 
 a woman is resigned ; and, again, his words, his grasp, 
 the pressure of his arm upon my waist all together, 
 suddenly and swiftly, awakened me and changed vague 
 yearnings into strong love — strong as death — yea- 
 stronger. From that moment I was wholly his — all 
 my heart, all my soul, all my thoughts — were his, and 
 his alone. 
 
 It costs me no pain now to remember these things ; 
 a few tears of regret, perhaps : but such regrets con- 
 sole the season of age : the memory of those days en-, 
 nobles me : it makes me proud and happy : sometimes 
 when I have thought long over them I take down a 
 book which, in spite of all the Divines pretend, I find 
 full of earthly love. I mean the Song of Solomon : 
 and I read the verses concerning my beloved with that 
 sense of experience which makes me understand them 
 all. 
 
 " My tender sweetheart ! " he whispered low, while 
 the music drowned his words, and the others could 
 not see. I hear that soft, sweet whisper still; 'twill 
 comfort my dying moments : it is my consolation 
 from day to day, from hour to hour, to remember it. 
 Oh ! I was the first in his heart : the first. Yes, the 
 first : before the Other came across the seas : I was
 
 A River Party. 189 
 
 the first. " My tender sweetheart ! My most beloved 
 mistress ! " Then he drew me gently to his bosom, 
 and laid my head upon his shoulder and kissed me on 
 the forehead and on the cheek and on the lips, mur- 
 muring, " Oh, my tender sweetheart ! Oh, my most 
 beloved mistress! " This was all he said. It was not 
 so dark in the cabin but that the others might see 
 something ; but I know not how much they saw. 
 
 How long did this declaration last? Indeed, I have 
 no recollection, because I lost myself. Presently I 
 heard his brother's voice. 
 
 "George, we are near the Stairs. Are you asleep?" 
 
 " No, brother. I have never been so wakeful, be- 
 lieve me. Are we really near Whitehall Stairs again ? 
 Oh ! let us turn round and have it all over again ! " 
 
 Hin brother laughed. " I wish we could. But 
 there are other things to do this evening." 
 
 "True— a most tedious card-party awaits us, Miss 
 Nancy. Alas ! here we are, and the evening is done." 
 
 It surprised me when we landed at the stairs to find 
 a link-boy waiting tor us, and Captain Sellinger, quite 
 sober, with Corporal Bates, in attendance. 
 
 " By your leave, Sir," said the Captain, taking off 
 his hat, " I will escort the ladies home." 
 
 " If you please, Sir." Sir George seemed to know 
 the Captain. He stooped and kissed my hand once 
 more. " I shall never forget this evening," he whis- 
 pered. " Never, so long as I live." So we landed, 
 and the barge pushed off again and went down the 
 river. 
 
 I was also greatly surprised to see on the stairs Dr.
 
 igo A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 Mynsterchamber and two or three gentlemen with 
 him whom I knew not. They whispered to each 
 other : they looked at the barge and at Captain Sel- 
 linger. When the barge pushed off they walked 
 away. 
 
 The Captain walked home with us, the Corporal 
 marching behind. 
 
 " You know Sir George Le Breton, then ? " I asked. 
 " Have you known him long? " 
 
 " Sir George Le Breton ? Oh ! yes — yes ! " he re- 
 plied, with a little confusion. " Oh, yes — I know — 
 Sir George — Sir George Le Breton." 
 
 " Do you know him intimately ? " 
 
 " No, certainly not. I have not that honour. But 
 of course — I know him. Not so well as you know 
 him, Miss Nancy." 
 
 If I blushed the night concealed that sign of guilt. 
 
 " We find him and his brother most agreeable com- 
 pany, Captain Sellinger." 
 
 " It is quite certain that they find most agreeable 
 company in St. James's Place." 
 
 " They are young gentlemen of many virtues, Cap- 
 tain Sellinger." 
 
 " So I have understood — especially Sir George. 
 He has all the virtues there are. It is his inheritance. 
 His father had all the virtues before him ; so has his 
 grandfather. All the virtues reside permanently in 
 the family." 
 
 " I know not what you mean, Captain Sellinger. 
 But they do not get tipsy in the evening." 
 
 " Which is best, child : to repent in the morning
 
 A River Party* 19 
 
 101 
 
 with a headache, or to be sorry in the morning for an 
 evening thrown away? " 
 
 By this time we were arrived at our own door. 
 "And now," said the Captain, "that I have left you 
 in safety at the door, I will go to the Cocoa-Tree and 
 drink. There is still time- Good-night, ladies. It is 
 indeed a most wonderful thing." 
 
 What was most wonderful ? 
 
 " We must talk a little, Nancy," said Isabel, sitting 
 down. 
 
 " What shall we talk about ? " 
 
 " Let me look in thy face, Nancy. Oh ! she says 
 • What shall we talk about ? ' We will talk about St. 
 Paul's Cathedral, my dear, if you wish ; or about 
 Dartford Paper Mills; or about your brother Joseph 
 of pious memory ; or, indeed, about everything except 
 what you want to talk about." 
 
 " Cousin, what do you mean ? " 
 
 " Oh ! you know very well. The cabin was dark, 
 but not so dark but I could see one head bending over 
 another. The oars made a splashing and the water 
 lapped against the side of the boat, yet I heard a 
 whisper on the other side of the cabin. Nancy, why 
 was that head bent down ? What did that whisper 
 mean?" 
 
 " Oh ! Cousin " — I threw my arms round her — " I am 
 the happiest, most joyful woman in the whole world ! 
 He loves me! " Then I broke from her and ran into 
 my own room, because I must needs be alone to sit 
 and think. 
 
 In the morning she asked me no more questions,
 
 19 2 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 being always so kind and so thoughtful about me; 
 and after breakfast I went out to walk by myself in 
 the Green Park to think over the thing which had be- 
 fallen me. 
 
 When I came back I was waylaid by the Doctor, 
 who came out of his room to meet me. 
 
 " I hope, Miss Nancy," he said, bowing profoundly, 
 " that you enjoyed your voyage on the river last night. 
 I saw the boat landing you at Whitehall Stairs. With 
 a cavalier the river may be delightful. Without, it 
 may provoke a sore throat. Miss Nancy, I beg once 
 more to offer for your acceptance one of the min- 
 iatures " — he drew it out of his pocket — " which I 
 showed you once before. It is a truly beautiful piece 
 of work — see ! it is set with pearls. Believe me, it is 
 worthy even of your acceptance." 
 
 I took it in my hands. Yes : it presented a most 
 lovely face with a strange sadness in the eyes : a face 
 having blue eyes and light hair — like my own. 
 
 " Tis none other than the portrait of Mademoiselle 
 la Valliere, first mistress of Louis Quatorze : once as 
 good and beautiful as yourself. She was dazzled by 
 the passion of the young Prince. She was the first love 
 of Louis. They say he never truly loved any other 
 woman. Take it, Miss Nancy. Take it — keep it. 
 See — there is a touch — turn it to the light — just a 
 touch of yourself, Miss Nancy — it may be my imagi- 
 nation — in those eyes. Keep it. She was a Prince's 
 first and only love." 
 
 I had no suspicion why he forced thiYgift upon me: 
 not the least suspicion. But now I know. Well, I
 
 A River Party. i93 
 
 took it : I have it still : when I take it out in these 
 latter days, when the past is so far off and I so changed 
 and the whole history dim except to me, I see that 
 the Doctor was right. There is in the eyes a touch — 
 a touch of sadness — a touch of myself. And I am 
 glad that I never showed this miniature to my lover. 
 Henceforth I can call him my lover.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 The Guard of Honour. 
 
 I NOW return to the events which were not con- 
 ducted in my presence ; namely, those concerned with 
 the Corporal's discovery and the Doctor's conspiracy. 
 
 You may be sure that it was not long before one of 
 the two brothers — the younger — discovered the fact 
 that these two sentinels were posted at the door every 
 night, and that they formed a voluntary escort out of 
 St. James's Place. As for Sir George, this was a thing 
 which he would not notice. The presence of an escort 
 would seem to him natural and no more to be ques- 
 tioned than the following of a footman. As elder 
 brother, he was more accustomed to these attentions 
 than an officer in the Royal Navy. Besides, he left 
 us every evening, I am quite sure, with his Head as 
 full as his Heart. For the Head said, "She is only a 
 daughter of a bourgeois : of no family : of no connec- 
 tions except those of trade. She is far, far below 
 your rank. You must put her out of your thoughts." 
 And the Heart said, "Nay; but you love her: you 
 have told her so : she loves you : to leave her would 
 be the basest cruelty : arrange some plan, with your 
 Head, so that you may love her still." And always 
 Conscience whispered, " Remember, George, those in
 
 The Guard of Honour, 195 
 
 high place must not set base examples." With these 
 conflicts going on, do you think it wonderful that he 
 did not notice certain things ? 
 
 One evening, therefore, the younger brother, after 
 allowing George to enter his own house, stopped in 
 the street outside, and called the Captain. 
 
 " Hark ye, Sir," he began with some roughness, " I 
 observe that in the exercise of a zeal which, I suppose, 
 does an officer of Horse Guards credit, you have con- 
 stituted yourself into a special Guard of Honour to 
 my brother and myself." 
 
 Captain Sellinger bowed low. " I would explain, 
 Sir," he began. 
 
 " Sir, I know you very well by sight, and you, I 
 suppose, know my brother and myself, also by sight." 
 
 " I have that honour, Sir." 
 
 " Well, Sir, your zeal, let me tell you, is uncalled 
 for and meddlesome. I beg — I command — that it be 
 discontinued." 
 
 " When I have explained, Sir " 
 
 " What ? When a gentleman wishes to preserve an 
 incognito : when he pays visits which he does not 
 wish to be proclaimed by beat of drum : when he 
 carries his own sword, and is not afraid to use it : to 
 have his privacy invaded by a volunteer escort? Al- 
 low me to say, Sir, again, that it is meddlesome." 
 
 " Sir," said the Captain quietly, "you are able to 
 say what you please " 
 
 " Well, Sir, I will say what I please, and I will give 
 you satisfaction afterwards like any other man. Why 
 not bring your troops and trot along beside us ? They
 
 196 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 would look well drawn up every evening in St. James's 
 Place, would they not? Certain ladies of your ac- 
 quaintance would receive this delicate attention with 
 pleasure, no doubt." 
 
 " Sir, I desire nothing but permission to explain. 
 Indeed, Sir, I shall show you the gravest reasons. Be- 
 lieve me, neither presumption nor meddling. . . . But 
 if you will not hear me." 
 
 " Go on, then. Explain if you can." He stood upon 
 the doorstep leaning against the pillars of the porch. 
 " Explain, then." 
 
 " I will not take long, Sir. To begin with, there is 
 a person on the ground floor of that house who, I 
 have discovered, is a rank Jacobite, and possibly a 
 French spy : of the former there is no doubt." 
 
 " Jacobite — Jacobite." He threw up his arms im- 
 patiently. " What does it matter, man ? Are you so 
 foolish as to believe in that cry ? Why, Sir, the Young 
 Pretender is forty and childless, and his brother is in 
 the Romish Church ! Jacobite ! Let him go to the 
 Devil for a Jacobite! He is a French spy, too, is 
 he? Well — St. James's is not Portsmouth Dockyard. 
 What is he to learn ? What mighty secrets will he 
 pick up? Have him to Bow Street and hang him. Is 
 it because there is a Jacobite scoundrel in the house 
 that you think fit to dog my brother's steps every 
 night ?" 
 
 " Pardon me, Sir. I said there was the gravest rea- 
 son. I will tell it in short. It is this. Every evening 
 there assembles in this man's lodging on the ground 
 floor of that house in St. James's Place a company of
 
 The Guard of Honour. 197 
 
 half a dozen : they are, apparently, the grandsons ot 
 those English and Irish who followed James into exile : 
 they come and go without suspicion because they talk 
 English perfectly : they are over here in the desperate 
 hope of reviving a lost cause. Meantime, they have 
 another matter in hand — which is the grave reason of 
 which I spoke." 
 
 "Well, Sir?" 
 
 " To-morrow night, Sir, you may remark, if you 
 choose, a coach in waiting. That coach is driven by 
 one of themselves : at Whitehall Stairs there is wait- 
 ing a boat, manned by two of themselves : down the 
 river off Redriff lies a vessel waiting for them. The 
 ship is called the Tower of Brill, of Amsterdam : the 
 captain has been won over in the usual way : when he 
 has received certain passengers, who will be carried 
 up the ship's side, he will drop down the river: he 
 will then make for Calais, and be taken by the French, 
 who will learn when they get into port the names of 
 the passengers." 
 
 "The names of the passengers? Who are they, 
 
 then?" 
 
 "Your brother, Sir, and yourself." 
 
 " The Devil ! How are they to get hold of us ?" 
 
 " I have told you, Sir. Every evening that com- 
 pany is assembled in that Jacobite's room looking for 
 an opportunity to seize you both at the bottom of the 
 stairs, and carry you away, prisoners, to France." 
 
 " To seize us — seize my brother ? To carry us 
 away ? Man — this is some foolish joke." 
 
 " No joke at all, Sir. It is plain truth, as I can
 
 198 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 show. Now, Sir, with this conspiracy before you — 
 say — was my interference justified ? Was I to lay the 
 matter before the magistrates and cause those ladies 
 to give evidence, and " 
 
 Edward put up his hand. " Captain Sellinger," he 
 said, " this is a serious business. I must think for a 
 moment." 
 
 He was silent for some minutes. " Are you quite 
 sure of your information ? " he asked. " From whom 
 did it come to you ? " 
 
 " From a Corporal in the Horse Guards — a man of 
 education, who speaks French and overheard their con- 
 versation. I can show you this evening, Sir, how he 
 operates. The coach you can see for yourself." 
 
 "Then, Captain Sellinger," Edward replied, "I 
 thank you." So he held out his hand, which the 
 other, bowing low, touched with his fingers. " For- 
 give me, Sir, for my haste. I am to blame. I should 
 have known that a gentleman must have had his rea- 
 sons. What do you advise ? " 
 
 "With submission, Sir, that we continue the nightly 
 watch. There will be no attempt, I am sure, where 
 there is the certainty of a fight. A sudden and un- 
 expected rush of five or six upon two might succeed : 
 not a rush provided for against four armed men. 
 These kind of conspirators are mighty coy about the 
 clashing of steel and waking the neighbours. They 
 desire a noiseless abduction, with gags and handcuffs. 
 If they still persist, it would be well to warn them." 
 
 " The business wants careful handling. We must 
 keep the ladies out of the affair : we must keep my
 
 The Guard of Honour. 199 
 
 brother out of it. No breath of it must get about to 
 his detriment. This Corporal of yours — is he an hon- 
 est fellow? " 
 
 " I believe him to be so. He is a fellow of many 
 accomplishments and vain. But honest and zealous." 
 
 " For my own part I should like a brush with the 
 villains — you beside me and the gallant Corporal dis- 
 tinguishing himself behind. I am not sure whether 
 we can contrive to keep my brother in ignorance. 
 However I shall try. Above all things, his name must 
 not appear publicly, and his person must not be put 
 into any danger, if that is possible. Tell your man, 
 Captain, to continue his silence. We will talk of this 
 business again when I have turned it over in my mind." 
 
 For some days nothing more was done ; the coach 
 was brought every evening to St. James's Place, 
 where it waited : the Doctor's friends came every 
 evening to his lodging, where they waited : and every 
 evening they were baulked by the accidental presence 
 of Corporal Bates in the kitchen and about the pas- 
 sage, whistling and singing so that there could be no 
 doubt concerning his presence, while outside in St. 
 James's Place for some purpose of his own, doubtless 
 to meet a girl, Captain Sellinger strolled about the 
 Place or waited in the doorway. From time to time 
 the Doctor would get up and look out, as if to ascer- 
 tain the weather : his door was kept ajar, so that any 
 footsteps could be heard : regularly at ten o'clock, 
 when the two gentlemen came downstairs, the Cor- 
 poral was standing at the bottom of the stairs ready 
 with a salute, and the Captain was standing on the
 
 200 A Fountain SealecL 
 
 doorstep ; and if the conspirators made a rush it would 
 be met by these two defenders first. 
 
 What did the Doctor suspect? I cannot tell. The 
 coach, I say, continued to come every evening. I 
 conjecture that they were resolved to wait until an 
 opportunity should occur, and that they thought this 
 opportunity would certainly occur before long. I 
 conjecture, further, that they had no thought of mur- 
 der, which would be useless, but of seizing the person. 
 If they had desired murder they might bring six or 
 more against four and so set upon them; but it was 
 plainly their interest to avoid bloodshed : now when 
 swords are crossed even in self-defence, one cannot 
 say who will receive a thrust. Meanwhile it is also 
 certain, in my mind, that they had no suspicion that 
 their purpose was discovered. Else why this perse- 
 verance in making everything ready night after night ? 
 Their very security showed that they had no sus- 
 picions : for this security would have been impossible 
 if the plot had been known, in which case there would 
 have been no delay, but they would all have been 
 seized, committed, tried, and executed in the usual 
 way. These considerations account for the fact that 
 they made no attempt to fly or to disperse them- 
 selves. 
 
 "You walk abroad late, Captain Sellinger," said the 
 Doctor, one morning. " Last night I went forth to 
 watch the stars, and saw you in the Court : the night 
 before, if I mistake not, I heard your footsteps." 
 
 " Doctor, if a little friend sometimes came to talk 
 to you in this quiet Court, where there is no one ex-
 
 The Guard of Honour 20 1 
 
 cept a cursed mysterious coach which waits every 
 evening for some one, would you like to be watched ? " 
 
 "Oh ! If a woman is in the case, Captain — one has 
 been young " 
 
 "The nights grow cold. In a few days I fear she 
 will come no longer." 
 
 That night the coach came not, nor did the com- 
 pany gather in the Doctor's room. Yet soon after 
 the coach appeared again, and the men came again. 
 They had not lost their hopes of an opportunity. 
 
 On another occasion — " Captain," said the Doctor, 
 " advise me. The fellow who lives in the garret- 
 Corporal Bates by name " 
 
 " What of him, Doctor ? " 
 
 " A noisy fellow. He disturbs me in the evening. 
 When one would be writing or reading, or perhaps 
 sleeping, he walks about the passage whistling. He 
 goes in and out of the kitchen and drinks." 
 
 " He is not in my Company, Doctor. I cannot 
 speak to him. But bid Molly the maid tie a dish- 
 clout to his coat-tail. Or make his wife jealous." 
 
 That was all that the Doctor and his friends got by 
 their interference. Yet it showed uneasiness. It is 
 certain that they feared all was not right. 
 
 As for my cousin and myself, we knew nothing. 
 For my own part I lived in a Fool's Paradise, i. e., in 
 the Paradise which every woman desires for herself, 
 the Paradise of Love. This gallant young gentleman 
 loved me : so brave and so handsome ; so rich and so 
 highly placed, he loved me, when he might have 
 chosen among the noblest ladies of the land : he had
 
 202 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 chosen me : he loved me : he loved me. While I sat 
 with those words day and night ringing in my brain, 
 downstairs went on the plots and conspiracies of those 
 villains and the devotion of those two, the Captain 
 and the Corporal, thwarting and preventing. 
 
 The patience, both of conspirators and of guard, is 
 shown by the time during which the former waited for 
 an opportunity, and the latter continued to interpose 
 obstacles. Consider the time that the watch con- 
 tinued. Yet the thing was worth patience and watch- 
 fulness incredible. We went to Marylebone Gardens 
 on the last day of September ; the plot was then dis- 
 covered and in the possession of Captain Sellinger. 
 He began his watch and escort and continued both, as 
 you shall see, for more than three weeks. When the 
 coach was waiting in the Place, the Captain and his 
 companion patrolled the open square and guarded the 
 steps and the stairs. What put an end to the business 
 you shall learn in due course.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The Palace and the Court. 
 
 You have read how Sir George turned the conver- 
 sation when my cousin or I expressed a desire to see 
 the Court and Palace of St. James's. The King was 
 old : one must not annoy the King : our loyalty 
 would be best shown by not attempting to enjoy the 
 privilege of seeing the Palace : and so forth. There- 
 fore we were greatly surprised when he offered of his 
 own accord to show us what was to be seen. " Come," 
 he said, " to the Colour Court, which is that within 
 the gate, at the Mounting of the Guard, to-morrow 
 morning, and I will try to let you see everything." 
 
 You may be sure that we joyfully accepted the 
 invitation. For my own part, I understood that 
 something, I knew not what, was intended for me, 
 especially, by this invitation, and I dressed with some 
 trepidation yet with happy expectancy. What he 
 chose to do would be well done. 
 
 The Mounting of the Guard at eleven every morn- 
 ing is a pretty sight : we had often witnessed it from 
 the end of St. James's Street. First marches the 
 band headed by the drum major, a very majestic per- 
 son, over six feet high and carrying a gold-headed 
 staff : after him the " trumpets and shawms," that is
 
 204 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 to say, men in cocked hats and scarlet uniforms blow- 
 ing strange instruments : then two little boys, pretty 
 little fellows, who look as if they ought to be still in a 
 Dame's school, with drums : then a great fat negro 
 with a turban carrying the big drum, and on either 
 side another negro with cymbals and tambourine. 
 Then a company of twenty-four drums and fifes : then 
 the Captain or Colonel with his sword drawn march- 
 ing before the ensign who carried the colours; lastly, 
 the guard of the day, fellows so well shaven and so 
 finely dressed that you would not believe their daily 
 work was that of the humble, though useful, coal- 
 heaver. 
 
 At eleven the next morning, therefore, we repaired 
 to Colour Court. When the Guard had left the 
 Court Sir George came to us dressed in scarlet with 
 his star and a glittering order on his breast. " I am 
 here," he said, " as a kind of official : do not be sur- 
 prised when they salute me. I have ordered that 
 none are to be admitted except on the King's busi- 
 ness while you are here. You will have the Palace to 
 yourselves, ladies, except for the private apartments 
 of the King." 
 
 So saying, he led the way. I observed that where- 
 ever we met one of the Palace servants, or any gen- 
 tleman belonging to the Court, our guide was saluted 
 in the most respectful manner possible, everybody 
 falling back out of our way and bowing low or salut- 
 ing. 
 
 I forget most of the things we saw, and, indeed, it 
 does not greatly matter, because the importance of
 
 The Palace and the Court. 205 
 
 the morning lay not in the State rooms of the Palace, 
 but in the words which were spoken in them. 
 
 First we went into the Chapel, where the King 
 every year makes his offering of gold, frankincense, 
 and myrrh. Here, also, we learned, the Sovereign 
 formerly touched for the King's Evil, working mir- 
 acles daily. 
 
 " If," said our guide, " the King reigns by Divine 
 permission, there would seem nothing ridiculous in 
 the function which George I. discontinued." 
 
 " But," I said, " we all live by Divine permission : 
 and all we do or say is only what we are permitted : 
 yet we do not work miracles." 
 
 " I do not press the point," he replied. " What 
 divines ordain or decide that do I accept with hu- 
 mility. The King touches no longer, by the ruling of 
 the Church. It is enough. Let me show you, next, 
 the State rooms." 
 
 These rooms are called Queen Anne's Room, the 
 Throne Room, the Armoury, and others which I 
 forget. The rooms were large and lofty, opening 
 one out of the other: in one or two there were card- 
 tables and chairs : all had thick carpets and heavy 
 curtains: there were gilded chairs and sofas: there 
 were very large looking-glasses, hanging chandeliers, 
 carved cornices and chimney pieces with coats-of- 
 arms and crowns and initials : among them those 
 of Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn. There were 
 also pictures, chiefly portraits. Here were the two 
 Princes of Wales who died young: Arthur, son of 
 Henry VII. ; and Henry, son of James. Here is Jane
 
 206 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 Seymour, the Duchess of York, Charles I. in Green- 
 wich Park : and I remember a famous picture of 
 Adam and Eve in the Garden of Paradise. As for 
 the rooms themselves, they were full of memories. I 
 looked about in curiosity. Here Queen Mary died — 
 in great misery and deserved : here King Charles 
 slept — if he could sleep— on the night before his exe- 
 cution : here Queen Anne lived and died : these rooms 
 are full of history : great Lords and Ladies fill them 
 in the imagination : here are held the grand Levees and 
 Drawing-Rooms : here the King and the Court hold 
 their great gambling nights at the New Year : here are 
 the Court Balls : here the foreign Ambassadors are re- 
 ceived and the Deputations from the City of London 
 and elsewhere: here the Privy Council assemble. 
 
 " Yes," said Sir George, " the rooms have many 
 memories. For my own part, I think more of West- 
 minster than of St. James's. A King in Westminster 
 Palace was a King indeed. One would rather be Ed- 
 ward the First than — even — George the Second. 
 However, I will now take you to a part of the Palace 
 which the public are not allowed to see." 
 
 He took us by some corridors, empty and deserted, 
 to a door which he opened. A porter, sitting on a 
 chair half asleep, jumped up and stood with his hands 
 down, ready for service. " Where is the King ? " 
 asked our guide. 
 
 " His Majesty is in the Palace Garden, Sir," the 
 man replied. 
 
 " We can walk round, then. I am going to show the 
 King's own private rooms. And first, these " — he led
 
 The Palace and the Court* 207 
 
 the way — " are the private rooms of the late Queen." 
 It was a suite, or collection, of rooms containing the 
 bed-chamber with a great bed richly hung with velvet 
 and gold fringes : the little bed-chamber for the 
 Queen's personal attendant: the room for the robes: 
 the dressing-room : and the withdrawing-room. " All 
 is kept exactly," whispered Sir George, " as the Queen 
 left it : the furniture undisturbed : the robes hanging 
 as they were. She was a great woman, greater than 
 the world will ever know. Come." 
 
 We left the room hushed by the presence of death 
 and the emotion expressed on our conductor's face. 
 
 " You have spoken with the late Queen, Sir George ? " 
 
 "Thousands of times. She was good enough to — 
 to — love me." 
 
 I said no more and he led us away. 
 
 He showed us next the King's private rooms : his 
 bedroom : his writing and reception-room : his dining- 
 room : and so forth. Of course, one knows that not 
 even a King can eat or drink more than a subject : 
 nor can he take up more room : yet one was perhaps 
 astonished to observe the simplicity with which their 
 rooms were furnished. 
 
 " You see," Sir George remarked, smiling, " why the 
 public must not be admitted to these rooms: in their 
 eyes the King must always appear in robes of State: 
 if with a crown upon his head, so much the better: if 
 on horseback in gilded armour, so much the better still. 
 That he should appear as a good old man, living in 
 quiet ease without any State except on State occasions, 
 would perhaps cause the loss, or, at least, the decay of
 
 208 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 his magnificence as King. It is the same with other 
 dignities: the Judge does well to confine himself to 
 the society of other Judges: the Bishop must consort 
 with Bishops : the General must not descend to the 
 merchant's company. Authority is kept up by dig- 
 nity : and dignity cannot admit of familiarity save 
 among equals. The world has not yet learned to sep- 
 arate the office from the man : otherwise, in his 
 moments of leisure, the King might walk about Pall 
 Mall or watch the humours of the Park, seated among 
 his people on a chair." 
 
 There certainly was an aspect of homeliness not 
 only in the King's own room but about the whole 
 Palace. The Guard in the Guardroom lounged about : 
 the servants sat about : there was a sleepy look in 
 the courts and in the brick walls. But I was pleased 
 to have seen it all. 
 
 " It was different," said our conductor, " while the 
 Queen lived. Then the discipline of the service was 
 sharper : Guards and Yeomen knew their duty, and 
 did it with alacrity. The King is old : the Queen is 
 dead : there are no longer the State balls and card- 
 parties and receptions. When the — the successor ar- 
 rives, he will have to restore that strictness of outward 
 ceremonial which keeps up the kingly dignity." He 
 sighed heavily. " Little ease hath he who wears a 
 crown. No solitude: no moments to himself: much 
 care and little ease." He sighed again. " And now," 
 he went on, " there is little more to show you. The 
 King's Library has been given to the British Museum, 
 where no doubt it will prove of greater use. Reading
 
 The Palace and the Court. 209 
 
 is not at present much cultivated at Courts. What ? 
 I said before that we who make history are not con- 
 cerned about reading it, save for instruction in youth. 
 Thus, it is useful for an English King to learn that 
 Richard the Second was ill advised when he seized on 
 the savings of the merchants : the Stuarts might have 
 been reigning still had not Charles the Second shut up 
 the Exchequer and so robbed the City of a million and a 
 half, for which they never forgave him. Yet the King 
 must defend his own prerogative or he would not be 
 King." He spoke as if to himself. " Come," he said, 
 " you shall see the Queen's Library." 
 
 The Queen's Library stands apart from the Palace 
 in the gardens in the west : it is a small building with 
 one or two pictures. 
 
 "The Library," said Sir George, "was built for 
 Queen Caroline. She wanted books of a lighter kind 
 than the old folios, which have now been sent to the 
 Museum. Her ladies came here in her lifetime : it 
 has been of late neglected, but you should see it." 
 
 We looked round at the books. Some were on the 
 table : some were on the floor : some were lying care- 
 lessly about the shelves. Sir George turned to my 
 cousin. " You would like to look at the books, 
 Madam. Walk round the Library and see for your- 
 self what the late Queen loved to read." 
 
 Isabel smiled and left us. 
 
 Then Sir George took my hand and led me to a 
 chair which was in a window looking over the garden. 
 
 At that moment the door at the other end of the 
 room opened and there entered an old man leaning
 
 210 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 upon a stick : an old man of singular aspect, had one 
 met him in the street : he was followed by two ser- 
 vants who stood at the door while their master entered 
 the room and looked round. 
 
 " It is the King," said my lover. " I must speak 
 with him." He walked down the room and knelt on 
 one knee. 
 
 " George ! " cried the King, surprised. " You in the 
 Library? " 
 
 " Yes, Sir. I trust your Majesty is well this morn- 
 ing. 
 
 " Ay — ay — well enough. Come to see me presently, 
 when you have left your friends." So he looked at 
 me curiously : shook his head, as if he could not 
 remember my face, and went out again. 
 
 " He comes to look at the Library," said George, 
 " because it was the Queen's. Otherwise he loves not 
 reading. But he loves everything that belongs to the 
 memory of his wife." 
 
 And even then I did not guess : I had no suspicion : 
 not the least. 
 
 And now I understand it all so well : what was in 
 his mind : the sacrifice that he was ready to make : the 
 meaning of it all : how love had trampled upon inter- 
 est ; and how he was prepared even to give up his in- 
 heritance after himself, to his brother. He would give 
 all — all — all — for my sake — mine. 
 
 " Be seated, Nancy. Oh, my dear ! my dear ! " He 
 kissed my hand regardless of Isabel's presence : but I 
 think she was among the books. " I have brought 
 you here, dear, because — because" — he hesitated a
 
 The Palace and the Court. 2 1 1 
 
 little, " I thought to show you what should have been 
 the ending of that story of Lord Burleigh and his 
 country maid. He took her to see his castle — his stately 
 castle. Burleigh House is a very noble place : he 
 showed her all over it : his Rooms of State, his Court' 
 yards, his Halls, his Chapel, his Park : everything. And 
 when she understood who and what he was — how great 
 his State — he took her away again — to her old home 
 and said, ' My dear, it is not in that great gilded place 
 that you can love me : it is in some rustic cottage like 
 your own, whither I can steal when I can from the 
 cares and forms of State.' What say you, Nancy ?" 
 
 " Will your State be so very great — as great as that 
 of the Lord Burleigh? " 
 
 " It will be greater. It will be — something — some- 
 thing like this." 
 
 And even then I never guessed. 
 
 I gave him my hand. "Oh!" I whispered. "lam 
 all yours. Do with me — dispose of me — as your heart 
 and honour please." 
 
 Again he kissed me, but on the forehead. 
 
 " My honour bade me show thee these things, 
 Nancy. My heart bids me tie myself to thee for life 
 — so that none but the call of God shall part us."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 ** Invest it in my Business/' 
 
 ROBERT Storey called again — his last visit it proved. 
 He came the day after our voyage up the river, when 
 the words of my lover were still ringing in my brain, 
 with the accompaniment of sweet music, all in fantasy, 
 as happens when one is happy and hears voices sing- 
 ing and silver bells ringing, and melodies hitherto 
 unknown. The sight of the man jangled the bells, and 
 made discords instead of the music. Not only the prim 
 decorum of his dress, the self-satisfaction in his face 
 — these were things which one expected in the worthy 
 bookseller — there was also visible a certain purpose in 
 his face. Yet I received him with an appearance of 
 graciousness. 
 
 " I have left our cousin," he said, " in the shop. 
 She is talking with a traveller lately returned from 
 Siberia, (if his word can be taken : but we have many 
 pretended travellers). He has been telling her of the 
 cannibals who dwell in that unknown country, (but 
 one of my poets swears that the traveller hath been 
 seen of late in Grub Street). He is to issue his ' De- 
 scription of Siberia ' by subscription. I doubt not 
 that he will have our cousin's name and guinea before
 
 "Invest it in my Business." 213 
 
 he leaves her. A plausible fellow in discourse, and 
 once at Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge. When I 
 left them, he was beginning upon the marriage cus- 
 toms of those distant islanders. Apparently they 
 have never heard of the English Church." He shook 
 his head sadly, sighed, and asked permission to sit 
 down. He did so, carefully arranging the correct dis- 
 position of his legs, and thrusting, as was his wont, 
 one hand in his bosom. 
 
 " When I came last," he said, " I allowed myself to 
 fall into some heat of temper because it pained me 
 to watch the continuance of an acquaintance which 
 from the incompatibility of rank and station, can 
 never become more than a passing incident — pray 
 Heaven not a painful incident ! — in the history of a 
 beautiful though unfortunate young lady." 
 
 This was the introduction or preface to what fol- 
 lowed. I hope my readers are as well satisfied with it 
 as the author appeared to be. 
 
 "You mean something, Mr. Robert, I daresay." 
 
 " I always mean something. One of my satirists 
 told me yesterday when I gave him three guineas, 
 that my words are of gold, like the Greek Father 
 named Socrates, which means, unless my Greek is 
 rusty, he with the golden mouth. What I say, Miss 
 Nancy, is received by my friends as well as my de- 
 pendent poets, as something worth the hearing. The 
 sayings of Robert Storey, perhaps, will prove here- 
 after as worthy of record as the 'Table Talk ' of 
 Selden, of which I have a share, with six other book- 
 sellers."
 
 214 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 " Will you kindly proceed to your meaning then ? 
 If Isabel grows tired of her Siberian she may return, 
 and so you may lose your opportunity. For, Mr. 
 Robert, I suppose you wish to speak to me alone." 
 
 " With your permission. Ahem ! The — the — gen- 
 tleman who comes here nearly every day, with whom 
 you have been seen at Marylebone Gardens and on 
 the river in a barge, with music, is attracted by a 
 lovely face. Naturally — for a gentleman. We in 
 business do not consider the beauty of our fair cus- 
 tomers. Handsome or ugly makes no difference in 
 the buying of books. You may believe me, Miss 
 Nancy, when I assure you that although in business 
 hours I must not have any eye for beauty, yet out of 
 business hours, when I might relax from this severity, 
 respect for my own reputation, on which a tradesman's 
 success greatly depends, would not allow me to run 
 after a pretty face if I wished to do so." 
 
 "Indeed, Mr. Robert, I am quite sure that you are 
 incapable of running after a pretty face." 
 
 " What respect, indeed, should I receive from my 
 poets if I were thus to betray the amorous propensi- 
 ties which they are constantly singing and praising?" 
 
 " Do you think, Mr. Robert, that this subject is the 
 most proper one in the world to discuss with me? " 
 
 " I introduced it, believe me, for contrast only. 
 That I do not run after pretty faces is due not only 
 to my principles, which would, I believe, resist Helen 
 of Troy herself, but also to my calling, which necessi- 
 tates a reputation for virtue. Every bookseller should 
 be christened Joseph, even though his temperament
 
 "Invest it in my Business." 215 
 
 should incline him rather to the character of Solo- 
 mon." 
 
 " Mr. Robert, I do not know you this morning." 
 
 " I mean, then, that a tradesman of virtue, like my- 
 self, is as capable of the passion of love as the greatest 
 man in the country." 
 
 " I hope, Sir, that an honest love for a worthy ob- 
 ject — if there be any woman worthy of Mr. Robert 
 Storey — will reward these present privations." 
 
 I believe that if you humour a man in accordance 
 with his vanity you may say what you please. He 
 took this remark as a confession of admiration and 
 bowed, smiling. 
 
 " There is, then," he continued, "this difference be- 
 tween myself and a gentleman. While I am heed- 
 fully employed in making a profit by getting copy 
 from an author (whose necessities make him take 
 what I offer, while his unbridled greed makes him 
 still dissatisfied) a gentleman has nothing to occupy 
 his thoughts, and therefore suffers them to rove at will. 
 If he sees a pretty girl, he instantly follows her: 
 converses with her : makes love to her, regardless of 
 consequences which will not injure him. It is the way 
 with his class — his rank. A woman, he thinks, is a 
 creature made for love, and especially for the love of 
 a gentleman. It is condescension in him to offer love : 
 it is an honour in her to accept love. In my rank — 
 the happier because the more virtuous — we do not 
 speak much of love before we tie the nuptial knot. 
 Then, believe me, no nobleman could be more affec- 
 tionate, no gentleman so constant,"
 
 2l 6 A Fountain Sealed* 
 
 ' I believe that you are come again in order to 
 malign certain friends of mine. Mr. Robert, once for 
 all, you need not continue." 
 
 " I come, Miss Nancy, with a more important object 
 than that. I have nothing to say against this gentle- 
 man. He comes here in order to enjoy your society. 
 His behaviour, I am informed, by your cousin, is as ad- 
 mirable as your own most honourable principles would 
 demand : can I say more than that I believe this as- 
 surance ? " 
 
 These words naturally softened me. "Since you 
 admit that he is a man of honour, Mr. Robert, I am 
 satisfied. You can therefore go on." 
 
 " I admit, moreover, that he comes here after you. 
 I do not doubt that he greatly admires, and perhaps 
 loves, you. Who can be surprised ? Who can for a 
 moment doubt? What I would ask you, most ear- 
 nestly, Miss Nancy, is this : What is to be the end of 
 it?" 
 
 " In reply, Mr. Robert : What right have you to ask 
 this question ? " 
 
 He did not answer this question. "Consider, I be- 
 seech you," he said, "the position of this gentleman. 
 Consider only what it means." 
 
 " Do you know his position ? " 
 
 " Of course I know." 
 
 I understand, now, that he could not believe that I 
 did not know ; yet if he had only spoken to Isabel he 
 would have learned, at least, that we did not know. 
 
 " Do not, I entreat you," he added, " deceive your- 
 self by the belief that no one else knows. I recog-
 
 "Invest it in my Business/' 217 
 
 nised them at the very first evening, when I ran away, 
 as you said. Captain Sellinger knows ; that Corporal 
 of Horse Guards knows ; the tall lean man on the 
 ground-floor knows: he is said in my shop to be a 
 Jacobite. Sometimes he looks in to ask after rare 
 books. He was talking to me about other things, and 
 from what he dropped, I am certain that he knows 
 your friends." 
 
 Everybody knew, except me. And I was not anx- 
 ious to know. My lover was a man of exalted rank — 
 an Earl, perhaps : or, indeed, I knew not, never hav- 
 ing been taught to respect rank, which is an accident 
 of birth. He would tell me himself, in his own good 
 time. 
 
 "So, Miss Nancy, since so many people know; and 
 since we cannot stop their tongues ; all the world will 
 soon know." 
 
 " Well, Sir? " This kind of talk began to vex me. 
 " If a gentleman is his own master, why should he not 
 visit whom he pleases?" 
 
 " His own master? Yes. But for how long? The 
 old man is now getting on for eighty. For how long ? " 
 
 " I know nothing about any old man." 
 
 " Tut-tut ! " he said impatiently. " Consider, I say, 
 the position. It is impossible for him to marry you. 
 It is perfectly impossible — it is out of the question — 
 not to be thought of. You must acknowledge that." 
 
 " I acknowledge nothing." 
 
 " You cannot entertain the thought ! It would be 
 madness ! " 
 
 " Mr. Robert ! Pray understand once for all that I 
 cannot speak of these things to you,"
 
 218 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 " If not marriage, then — what? " 
 
 I rose. " Mr. Robert, your talk on this* subject is 
 nauseous. Have done, or you will drive me out of 
 the room." 
 
 "Well, I have spoken. Pray sit down again, Miss 
 Nancy. I will sin no more, even for your sake, in this 
 respect. I must now tell you that, being in the City 
 yesterday, I came upon your brother, Mr. Joseph, in a 
 coffee-house. I told him, perhaps incautiously, that 
 you were in good health and staying near the Palace 
 of St. James's with the widow of my cousin, Reuben 
 Storey. That, he said, was with his consent, but he 
 would call here when next his business takes him to 
 London." 
 
 " My brother Joseph ? My brother here ? " 
 
 "Yes. He will see in these lodgings a great deal " 
 — Robert looked round the room — " which he will dis- 
 approve. He is still stiff, I observe, in his Quaker 
 principles. What will you say ? How will you defend 
 your abandonment of their principles ? " 
 
 I was silent. I had quite forgotten the very exist- 
 ence of my brother Joseph. 
 
 " Joseph is your guardian. You want, it is true, 
 only a few days of coming of age, when you can do as 
 you please. He is trustee, I understand, for a large 
 fortune, which he will if possible keep in his own 
 hands. Shall you return, may I ask, to Dartford ? " 
 
 " Never." I shuddered. At the very thought of 
 Dartford the memory of the old melancholy returned 
 to me. " Never." 
 
 " Well. He will be here. You must tell him your-
 
 "Invest it in my Business." 219 
 
 self that you have changed your religion and that you 
 intend to become — or have become — a member of the 
 Church of England. As myself a humble follower of 
 that Church, I rejoice. Joseph will not rejoice. He 
 is an austere man. He will be angry." 
 
 I looked about the room. If we were to deceive 
 him again — it was by sheer deception that Isabel got 
 me into her custody — we should have to go back to 
 the old pretences: we should change again our dress: 
 change the fashion of our heads : change our conver- 
 sation : take down all the pictures from the walls : 
 banish all the books : send away the harpsichord : 
 hide the music : put away the china and gewgaws. 
 Oh ! But we would not deceive him. I resolved to 
 let my brother know the truth. But, alas ! a sinking 
 of the heart followed this disagreeable intelligence. I 
 felt as if the pleasant time was threatened. 
 
 "As yet," Robert went on, " Joseph knows nothing 
 of your visitors. I did not venture to tell him. I 
 know not what he will say, or think, if he should learn 
 the truth." 
 
 " Joseph," I said, " may be my brother and even my 
 guardian. But he is no longer my master. Nor shall 
 he be, henceforth." 
 
 " You are warned, however, that he is about to visit 
 you. It may be to-day : it may be to-morrow — or 
 next week. I know not how often his affairs call him 
 to the City of London." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Robert, is that all you had to say ? You 
 are, indeed, a messenger of good tidings." 
 
 " One thing more, Miss Nancy. I would in cold
 
 220 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 blood renew the proposal which last I made in passion. 
 You are now in a perilous position : your reputation, 
 if certain things were known, would be more than 
 cracked : I offer to take you out of the meshes which 
 surround you. Miss Nancy" — he drew out his hand 
 from his bosom and fell upon his knees — " I offer you 
 — myself. I care nothing for what may be said : I 
 take you as you are. Your fortune will be put into 
 the shop. I offer you a good business, a careful and 
 prudent manager of that business, a loving and tender 
 husband, and a partner who will be respected through 
 life for his manners and for his probity. He is also 
 not without learning." 
 
 "Get up, Sir! Mr. Robert," I said, nothing moved 
 by his earnestness — because he must have been very 
 much in earnest to offer thus to repair a reputation 
 which he certainly believed to be cracked. At the 
 time I did not understand in this his insults to my 
 good name, nor his eagerness to get my money. " Get 
 up, Sir ; dismiss this matter from your mind at once." 
 
 "Why?" he asked, still on his knees. "Nothing 
 stands in the way, so far as the world and your brother 
 know. It is but cutting a knot. I will marry you 
 at once, by license — to-morrow. You need not pain 
 yourself by saying farewell to your illustrious lover : 
 you will only have to leave the house — and him — for 
 ever. I will make people render an account of thy 
 fortune. Consider, my dear Nancy. I cannot bear to 
 think that things will be said about thee. So lovely 
 — so bewitching. Oh ! " he caught my hand and tried 
 to kiss it. " Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! " he mumbled.
 
 "Invest it in my Business/* 221 
 
 " Get up, I say, Mr. Robert. How can the man 
 make such a fool of himself ? " 
 
 Thus adjured, he rose, and taking his handkerchief, 
 brushed off a little dust from his knees. Thus did 
 prudence govern passion in the excellent man of busi- 
 ness. 
 
 " You will want a man of business," he added, " to 
 make Joseph disgorge and to invest your fortune pru- 
 dently. I will become that man of business. In my 
 own calling I can invest with safety as much money as 
 I can lay hands on. Nancy, I know of shares in books 
 to be had cheap : and there is money in them of 
 which no one else knows. Marry me, Nancy. You 
 shall invest your money in my shop. You shall have 
 a chariot. You shall have a country house with a gar- 
 den — what do I care about a cracked reputation ? " 
 
 I sprang to my feet. " Sordid wretch ! " I cried. 
 " To pretend love when all thy thoughts are of money ! 
 Go ! Leave me. The man — whose shoe-latchet thou 
 art not worthy to loose — is the noblest, truest, purest 
 heart that beats. Go ! Let me never see thee or speak 
 to thee again ! Go ! Lest I . . . but go — go ! " 
 
 I sank back into my chair and turned my head from 
 him. 
 
 " I obey," he replied hoarsely. " I am a sordid 
 wretch. Your brother Joseph will come here in a day 
 or two. You will have to explain a great deal more — 
 a great deal more, I say — than a change of faith. He 
 shall know all before he comes." 
 
 So he left me. His threats concerned me little, 
 because I hardly knew what he meant by a cracked
 
 222 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 reputation — certainly not all he meant. But I confess 
 I was not anxious to meet Joseph. I was willing to 
 avow that I could no longer remain in the Society of 
 Friends : I could tell him that I now loved and prac- 
 tised all those things which, according to the illiterate 
 Founder, send souls in multitudes to the abode of 
 Devils — namely, music, painting, dancing, dress, poe- 
 try, books of the imagination. All that mattered noth- 
 ing. I had the support — the strong arm — of the man 
 who loved me; who kissed me and called me his ten- 
 der sweetheart — his lovely mistress — and other sweet 
 things which I cannot write down even after these 
 long years. I had, I say, the support of this man for 
 whose sake I had been baptised and received into the 
 Church of England.
 
 CHAPTER XVII, 
 "Let him Tell me Himself." 
 
 It was, however, a week and more before Joseph 
 came. When he did come, he found his sister in no 
 mood to listen to any reproaches or threats. What 
 was the anger of Joseph compared with the troubles 
 and terrors which at that moment filled my heart? 
 
 It was, I well remember, the 24th day of October — 
 the day before the End. Outside, from my bedroom 
 window, I looked out upon the Park full of people, 
 and full of sunshine, the warm yellow sunshine of 
 autumn. The autumn sun could not reach our gar- 
 den on the north side of St. James's Place: the dwell- 
 ers in the garrets, on the other hand, enjoyed all the 
 sunshine that falls upon London and Westminster. 
 So that if sunshine can compensate, poverty has its 
 compensations. 
 
 As was often the case in the morning, I was alone. 
 My cousin was gone by water to the City, whither her 
 affairs often called her. The house was quiet save for 
 the chatter of Mrs. Bates and her children upstairs. 
 The window was open for the sweetness of the air ; 
 yet, because the night had been cold, there was a 
 small coal fire burning in the grate. I sat beside the 
 table, leaning my head on my hand, an open book of
 
 224 A Fountain Sealed* 
 
 poetry before me, some needlework in my lap, and my 
 lover in my mind. When a girl is loved and also loves 
 — sad for one of these things to be found without the 
 other ! — I suppose her lover is always in her mind : she 
 dreams of him : she thinks of him if she wakes in the 
 .dark hours of the night : she puts his name, instead 
 of her own, into her prayers : she dresses to please 
 him : she thinks to please him : she considers all day 
 long what will please him. Only to please him she 
 would be beautiful, she would be good. My sisters! 
 great and wonderful, nay, miraculous, is the power of 
 Love, since it can even raise the soul from lowest 
 depths to heights of virtue. 
 
 I have never been to a theatre, but I have read 
 many plays. Every play has a story, which they call 
 a plot : every play is divided into five acts, in each of 
 which something is done which carries on the plot and 
 advances it and increases the interest and absorption 
 of the reader or the spectator. My life is a play — 
 that is, a small portion of my life. The Prologue or 
 Introduction is the House at Dartford with the gloomy 
 Joseph. Act I. is the First Meeting in St James's 
 Place: Act II. is the Masquerade: Act III. is the 
 River: Act IV. is the Morning of October 24. The 
 last Act is the Morning of October 25. 
 
 There was a step on the stairs — a step I knew full 
 well: a step that always announced a cheerful face 
 and an affectionate heart — yet not the step I should 
 have wished to hear. 
 
 The door opened, and Edward stood there alone. 
 
 " Edward ! " I sprang to my feet with the cold
 
 "Let him Tell me Himself !* 225 
 
 shiver which heralds coming evil. " But where is 
 George ? " 
 
 " I have not seen him this morning." His face was 
 very grave — what had happened ? " George does not 
 know that I am here. Are you alone, Nancy? " 
 
 " My cousin has gone into the City with Molly. I 
 am quite alone." 
 
 He entered the room and closed the door. " I am 
 so far fortunate," he said. " May I sit down and talk 
 with you a little? " 
 
 He sat down, took my hand, pressed it — and kissed 
 it. 
 
 " Nancy," he said, " you know that I love you — I 
 would delight in seeing you happy — in the way that 
 you most desire. Believe this always, dear girl. I 
 have no other wish for you — the way you most desire 
 — I know full well what that way is." 
 
 " You have always been kind, Edward. Why 
 should I not believe it ? You are my brother — almost 
 — George's brother will be mine, will he not ? " 
 
 " I am not blind, or deaf, Nancy. On the river, 
 dark as the cabin was, I heard and saw — certain things. 
 Forgive me for reminding you. My dear, it is very 
 certain to me that George loves you to distraction, 
 and that you — may I say it ? " 
 
 " No, Edward ; but you may think it." 
 
 " My poor Nancy ! " Again he took my hand and 
 held it. " All this has been my fault." 
 
 "All your fault? Is it your fault that two people 
 love each other and are happy?" 
 
 " It was by accident that we met, that night, for the
 
 226 A Fountain Sealed, 
 
 first time. George was greatly excited by the ad- 
 venture. He has been brought up, for certain reasons, 
 in seclusion, so that he has not been allowed the lib- 
 erty which other young men enjoy — he has not been 
 able to enjoy adventures and dangers such as other 
 young men court " 
 
 " But why ? " 
 
 "For certain reasons," he replied. "As for me, I 
 am of very little importance — a younger son does not 
 count. I could go and come as I pleased. Besides, I 
 was placed in the Navy, where I have had opportuni- 
 ties of learning the world. Well . . . the truth is 
 that I was grieved to find George so ignorant of peo- 
 ple : this seemed an opportunity for him to observe 
 certain gentlewomen of tastes and manners delicate, 
 yet not belonging to the great world. In other words, 
 I would introduce him, through you, to the better 
 class of those who work for their incomes." 
 
 " Yes — so you brought him here — not thinking 
 what else might happen." 
 
 " If we were always thinking of that we should do 
 nothing. I wanted to get him outside the narrow 
 circle — of course a man in his position is always kept 
 in a narrow circle — it is his greatest danger. You ob- 
 served that George talked at first as if he had been 
 taught everything." 
 
 " We could understand that he was wonderfully ig» 
 norant of many things — how people live, for instance." 
 
 " How should he know everything? Nancy, there 
 was also another point in which he was profoundly 
 ignorant — the knowledge of women. Above all things
 
 "Let him Tell me Himself. " 227 
 
 a young man in his position ought to know something 
 on that important subject. What have I taught 
 him?" 
 
 " You brought him here. He did the rest himself." 
 
 " Yes. At first it was to be a polite call — just to 
 hope the lady is none the worse. But George was 
 struck : the simplicity of the conversation — let me say 
 it, Nancy : the absence of flattery, self-interest, effort 
 to please : the refinement of the ladies : the ease, and 
 yet the propriety of their manners : add to which, the 
 beauty of one : these things, which he had never met 
 before, fired him in his way. George is slow in being 
 moved by anything except by principle. But when 
 he is moved he is firm — even obstinate. He would 
 come again and again : I must come with him : pres- 
 ently he would not keep away : he talked about you 
 all the morning : in the evening he talked with you : 
 after returning home he sat among his mother's friends 
 as mute as a mouse, because he was thinking about 
 you." 
 
 " Well, Sir — was that a calamity ? " 
 
 " Nancy, he was slowly, for the first time in his life, 
 falling in love. Yet he is now already twenty-two 
 years of age. For my part — I am twenty — but — well 
 — sailors are made of stuff more inflammable. Yet it 
 would be incredible if it were not true. For the first 
 time, George is fully possessed with the idea of a 
 woman. Your image wholly occupies his heart." 
 
 " Oh ! Is this what you came to tell me ? Will 
 this knowledge make me unhappy ?" 
 
 " No, sweet girl, I think not, In thy society George
 
 228 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 hath learned more than love. He has learned to 
 think of men and women as a man himself : they are 
 no longer of importance to him in regard only to 
 their position and their rank; he has learned that 
 however high may be a man's rank, a simple woman 
 with no rank at all may surpass him in knowledge — 
 yes, Nancy, and in breeding and in heart. A dozen 
 times has my brother spoken to such effect as this. 
 Whatever happens, Nancy, never will he forget the 
 lessons that he has learned from thee." And the 
 tears stood in his eyes. 
 
 I was silent — foreboding something terrible. He 
 went on, his dear kind face so full of trouble that I 
 trembled and shivered. 
 
 "This has been a pleasant time, Nancy, to me, as 
 well as to George. To me, because I have seen that 
 noble heart bursting the bonds in which an ill-judged 
 seclusion has swathed it. No one knows what George 
 might have become, or may yet become, except my- 
 self, his brother and his playmate. He is all truth 
 and candour ; full of religion ; full of principle ; want- 
 ing only in the knowledge of men and women. Dear 
 Nancy, it has been, believe me, a very pleasant time." 
 Yet now the tears, already in his eyes, came also into 
 his voice. " But it must stop. The time has come 
 when it must stop." 
 
 " Why must it stop ? " 
 
 " It should have been stopped long ago. It is all my 
 fault. It should have been stopped before — before 
 George felt the whole force of love and before — before, 
 Nancy, you yourself "
 
 "Let him Tell me Himself. " 229 
 
 " Why must it stop ? Oh ! Edward, tell me — why- 
 must it stop ? Oh ! do you know what these words 
 mean to me?" 
 
 "Nancy, has George told you nothing? Child, do 
 you suspect nothing?" 
 
 " George is a gentleman of noble birth. What else 
 is there to tell me ? " 
 
 " Then he must tell you himself. I cannot. I pro- 
 mised I would not. Nancy, in a word, he cannot marry 
 you. Understand. It is not a question of what he 
 would like or would choose. He has no voice in the 
 matter. He cannot marry you. He must make an 
 alliance fitting his position." 
 
 I made no reply at first. " Then," I said, " why 
 does he swear that he loves me? " 
 
 " Because it is the truth, Nancy — the real downright 
 truth. How he will get out of it I know not. Nay, 
 for him I care little : many a man has to give up the 
 girl he loves — for this or that reason. It is — oh ! 
 Nancy — it is not George that concerns me so much — 
 it is the girl whom he must leave behind." 
 
 " Why do you tell me all this then ? What do you 
 wish me to do?" I asked, trembling. 
 
 " I do not know. I want to put an end to a situa- 
 tion which is full of peril. Nancy — sweetest girl — I 
 would to Heaven you were in love with me — then 
 would I brave the world and show the way ! But it is 
 my brother. It will make him miserable to end it. 
 Yet it must be ended. It must be ended." Thus he 
 repeated continually, as not knowing what else to say. 
 " His wife you cannot be. Nancy, you cannot — you
 
 230 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 cannot. Believe me, you cannot — you cannot — and 
 his light o' love you cannot be. Never would George 
 propose such a thing. He loves you too well, Nancy. 
 What is to be done? Try to think of some way out." 
 
 " I know not — yet — Edward — if that is your name 
 — perhaps I ought to call you Lord something." 
 
 " It is Edward. Call me Edward, Nancy. And 
 don't think too hardly of me for telling you the dread- 
 ful truth." 
 
 " Do you come from George ? " 
 
 " No, I have no message from George." 
 
 " Does he know that you are here ? Does he know 
 that the end must come ? " 
 
 " George is in the Heaven of accepted lovers: he is 
 drunk with love : he cannot listen to reason : one can- 
 not discourse with George as with a rational being. 
 No, Nancy, George has not sent me : George would 
 not allow that there must be an end : George is inca- 
 pable of acting with prudence. I have come myself, 
 without authority, to give you a warning, so that 
 you may be prepared. The forces against you are 
 overwhelming. There must be an end." 
 
 I waited awhile, thinking. Then I rallied my poor 
 shattered spirits, and presently stood up and spoke 
 slowly. 
 
 " You have been so kind a friend, Edward, that I 
 cannot believe you would seek to do me injury. 
 Pray remember, however, that you did not court me 
 for George ; he did his courting for himself. He 
 asked me to be his. I am his — I belong to him. I 
 will take my release from none other than George him-
 
 "Let him Tell me Himself/' 23 » 
 
 self. I shall do what he commands me, not what you 
 wish. If he desires to marry me and keep me in con* 
 cealment I shall cheerfully obey. I am wholly his^ 
 his servant — his slave, Edward " 
 
 " Dear girl, you stab me with a knife. What shall 
 I say? I want you to break it off suddenly — to go 
 away and remain concealed — and so to break it off. 
 Better so — believe me, than to wait — I know not 
 what may happen at any moment — and then there 
 will be the full shock — of discovery " — he went on 
 talking as if with himself — " and no more possibility 
 of going anywhere or doing anything except under 
 the eyes of the whole world. Oh ! Nancy — Nancy — 
 if you would only go away and bring it to an end your- 
 self." 
 
 " I will not. Nothing shall induce me to run away 
 from George. He shall tell me what to do. I belong 
 to him," I repeated. " I belong to him." 
 
 "Then I waste my time. Yet I know that there 
 must be an end, and that before long. There must — 
 well — I have executed my task. You will hate me 
 all your life, Nancy." 
 
 " No, Edward — you will all my life be as a brother, 
 whether — oh, my heart! my heart !" 
 
 He stayed with me while I sobbed and wept. He 
 wept with me. Twas the most tender pitiful soul. 
 He could not bear to see tears rise to any woman's 
 eyes : and I know that he regarded me with a partic- 
 ular esteem and affection. Else would he have 
 brought his brother back day after day? 
 
 " Let things go on," he said at last. " Let them
 
 232 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 end as George and you shall agree. For me, I 
 neither make nor mend in the matter henceforth. 
 George loves you, Nancy, that is quite certain. How- 
 he will find an end, the Lord knows, not I. Rocks 
 are on the lee : and a plaguey surf : well — let her 
 drive."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 My Brother Joseph. 
 
 He turned and left me. That is, he would have 
 left me, but he was stopped, because, as he opened 
 the door, he was met by the figure of my brother 
 Joseph — none other — who stood there face to face 
 with him. 
 
 Edward stepped back with a bow. " Oh, Sir," he 
 said, " I ask your pardon." And so made way for 
 him and would have passed behind him but Joseph 
 banged the floor with his great gold-headed stick and 
 turned upon him with the fierceness of Joshua rather 
 than the meekness of Moses. 
 
 " Friend ! " he roared — he meant " Enemy," if the 
 voice has any meaning — " what does thee in this place ? 
 What does thee with my sister ?'" 
 
 " The lady, Sir, does me the honour of receiving a 
 visit from me. If she is your sister I would point out 
 that your question might be put more courteously, 
 even from one of your coloured cloth." 
 
 "I care nothing, friend, for thy opinion. Tell me 
 what does thee with my sister ? " 
 
 " I have nothing more, Sir, to tell you. Miss Nancy, 
 your brother — if he is your brother — seems angry. 
 Do you wish me to stay? It seems as if you may 
 need some protection."
 
 234 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 " Stay, if you please," I replied. 
 
 I remember even now the picture of these two and 
 the contrast they presented standing one on either 
 side of the open door. What could be greater than 
 this contrast ? On the one side a gentleman well 
 bred and courteous, easy and assured : on the other 
 my brother, angry and rude. As he stood in the 
 doorway, dressed in his stiff Quaker drab, with neither 
 cuff nor collar, and with metal buttons ; on his head 
 he kept his hat without lace ; his hair was without 
 powder, and just tied behind. His face was red and 
 threatening, full of wrath, hard as the nether mill- 
 stone: his eyes were angry : his brows knit. With it 
 all, because wrath does not go well with Quaker tran- 
 quillity, he was stubborn, self-satisfied, schismatic, still. 
 Never was there seen so great a contrast as that be- 
 tween these two men. It made me ashamed to think 
 that I must call this ungainly monster my brother. 
 
 Robert Storey must have given him some garbled 
 account of my life and of my friends. Nay, I am 
 quite sure that he must have decorated the account 
 with circumstances, invented for the occasion, of dis- 
 honour. Otherwise, how to understand Joseph's con- 
 dition of rage? 
 
 He came, in fact, straight from Robert's book-shop, 
 and was resolved to drag me, willy-nilly, by the hair 
 of my head, if necessary, out of this Pit of Destruction 
 — this Lake of Unforgiven Sin. 
 
 It was unfortunate for his purpose that he arrived 
 at a moment when I was face to face with a danger 
 far more terrible than the wrath of Joseph. His ar-
 
 My Brother Joseph, '235 
 
 rival was a thing that annoyed — but there was a 
 greater thing behind it. 
 
 Joseph began by pointing about the room : at the 
 pictures: at the books: at the music and the harp- 
 sichord. 
 
 I repeat that the trouble in which I was plunged by 
 the unexpected disclosure — if disclosure it should 
 prove — of obstacles in our way only hardened my 
 soul against the wrath of my brother. This trouble 
 was so great that the interference of Joseph and his 
 indignation over such a trifle as my defection from the 
 Society irritated me. The moment was certainly 
 most inopportune for any remonstrance from him. 
 
 " Sister," he said, " is this my cousin's lodging? Or 
 is it thine?" 
 
 " It is Isabel's, Joseph. Do you like it ? " 
 
 He pointed with his stick to the pictures on the 
 wall. "These Allurements of the Devil" — 'twas 
 Diana surprised by Actaeon. The picture represents 
 nymphs surrounding the goddess in the water. If the 
 Devil has no stronger Allurements than the sight of 
 bare arms and shoulders the women are comparatively 
 safe. " Allurements, I say, of the Devil. Are these 
 the property of Reuben Storey's widow ? Or are they 
 thine?" 
 
 " They are Isabel's, Joseph. I wish they were my 
 own." 
 
 " Nancy," said Edward, " I will with your permis- 
 sion sit down." 
 
 " If you please, Edward. My brother will be more 
 angry, I fear, before he leaves me."
 
 236 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 Joseph looked at him with displeasure in his face, 
 but said nothing. 
 
 " Had these pictures been thine, sister, I should 
 have destroyed them. This tinkling cymbal " — he 
 pointed to the harpsichord — " which drives sinners to 
 the Pit by its foolish jingle, is this also my cousin's? 
 Or is it thine?" 
 
 " It is Isabel's. Everything in this room is hers — 
 pictures, harpsichord, books, music, Prayer-books of 
 the Church of England." 
 
 " What does all this mean ? There is treachery — 
 villainy — the Devil hath broken loose." 
 
 " It means that Isabel has returned to the Church 
 of England, of which she was a member before her 
 marriage." 
 
 " Robert Storey told me something. She has left 
 us. And as for thee, sister . . . What means this — 
 this man of the world alone with thee? " 
 
 "You have to learn many things, Joseph. In the 
 first place, I too have left the Society of Friends." 
 
 He banged his stick upon the table. 
 
 "Come out from this place," he bawled. "Come 
 
 out from this accursed den " He added a great 
 
 deal more, which I refrain from setting upon paper. 
 Suffice it to say that he accused poor Isabel with all 
 imaginable wickedness, and myself with quite as much. 
 Never could I believe that Joseph could possess an 
 imagination capable of conceiving such things. 
 
 " I say, Joseph, that I no longer belong to the So- 
 ciety of Friends " 
 
 " Come out, I say, lest I drag thee from the place
 
 My Brother Joseph. 23; 
 
 by the hair of thy head — sister of mine ? Shame and 
 disgrace to thy name ! " 
 
 " Friend Broadbrim," said Edward, stepping forward, 
 " I am here for the protection of your sister. Under- 
 stand me : another word of abuse and you shall descend 
 the stairs head first." He sat down again quietly, but 
 his face looked ready for mischief. 
 
 "Go, sister," said Joseph more quietly, "put on 
 again the garb of the Friends and come with me out 
 of the Pit of Hell." 
 
 " Joseph," I stood up before him and close to him, 
 face to face, not afraid. "Look at me well. Behold 
 your sister, transformed. Look at this dress" — 'twas 
 in pink and blue — " look at the dressing of my head ; 
 listen to the language which I speak " 
 
 "No more," he said ; " put off these gauds." 
 
 "This very day, Joseph" — why, I had actually for- 
 gotten the fact till then, and remembered it oppor- 
 tunely — " I am twenty-one years of age. I am there- 
 fore my own mistress." 
 
 "Thine own mistress? Oh! That shall be seen. 
 And while I live? Go, I say. No more mutinous 
 words. Obey your guardian, and come. What ! 
 Must I drag thee ? " 
 
 " No," said Edward. "That must thee not, while I 
 am here." 
 
 " Moreover," I went on, " I have been baptised, 
 and received into the Church of England." 
 
 " Go, child of the Devil. Put off, I say, these vani- 
 ties." 
 
 " Joseph, I shall never go back to the old house. 
 Henceforth, your ways and mine are separate."
 
 238 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 " Sir." It was Edward who stepped forward once 
 more. ** It behoves not a man to interfere between 
 brother and sister or between husband and wife. Yet 
 suffer me to remind you that if this young lady is of 
 age you can have no more authority over her." 
 
 ■"Thee knoweth nothing." 
 
 " If any authority, then claim it by law. I am no 
 lawyer, thank Heaven ; but this I believe, that the 
 Courts would think twice before they suffered a Quaker 
 to take forcible possession of a girl belonging to the 
 Established Church." 
 
 " Is this the friend of whom Robert Storey spoke to 
 me — two young men — great men about the Court — 
 the godless Court — men who come here constantly to 
 ensnare and corrupt the heart of women. Sister, thy 
 position is perilous indeed — I knew not how perilous 
 until I came here. Well — I threaten nothing — I call 
 no names — I declare no more of my mind. Choose 
 between the bottomless Pit and the joys of Heaven. 
 Choose between your brother and your — what ? — your 
 friend ? — your lover ? " 
 
 " Miss Nancy is of age," said Edward, "and will do 
 as she pleases." 
 
 " Nancy ! Her name is Hannah. She will do, Sir, 
 as I please. Or she will have no money. Thee can 
 understand, Hannah, that thee will have no money." 
 
 " I gather, Sir," Edward replied, " that this lady, 
 your sister, has been your ward. Your father — and 
 hers — either left a will or he did not. If he did, you 
 can have no control over her fortune after she is of 
 age. If he left none, the inheritance must be divided.
 
 My Brother Joseph. 239 
 
 Let me tell you, that Sir, this affectation of authority 
 is foolish : and this pretence of power is ridiculous. 
 Understand also, Sir, that this lady's friends are fully 
 prepared to set the law in motion on her behalf* 
 Therefore set your papers in order." 
 
 " Law or no law," said Joseph, " she shall have no 
 money unless she comes with me." 
 
 " Law or no law, Joseph, I will not come with you." 
 
 Joseph turned to Edward. " Friend," he said, " will 
 thee listen? This obstinate girl, some time ago, fell 
 into a kind of melancholy which happens often with 
 the younger women of our Society from serious con- 
 templation of their soul and its dangers. It is a 
 wholesome rod administered to young blood, which 
 might else be presumptuous and headstrong, as a cor- 
 rection." 
 
 "As a correction," Edward repeated. " Pray go on, 
 Sir. Nancy, poor child, was corrected in a wholesome 
 manner peculiar to your Society. It consists of per- 
 suading innocent souls that the good God has created 
 them for torments. No doubt most wholesome." 
 
 " My cousin, herself a widow and, I believed, a 
 godly member of the Society of Friends, offered to 
 take her away for a change of air. I let her go." 
 
 "You did wisely, Sir. The end has fully justified 
 your judgment in letting her go." 
 
 " I now learn the deceit that has been practised 
 upon me. She has been allured into the vanities of 
 the world. She is a woman of the world : her com- 
 panions belong to the world: her thoughts" — he 
 groaned deeply — " are of the world. She is rebellious ;
 
 240 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 she has thrown away her religion. Friend, blame not 
 the righteous wrath of one who hath been tricked — 
 tricked — duped — wickedly tricked — even out of his 
 sister's immortal soul." He groaned bitterly, and for 
 the moment I felt almost sorry for him. 
 
 " Forgive me if I think that you exaggerate the 
 mischief." 
 
 " What ! To leave her one of the Elect — to find 
 her a companion of the Devil?" 
 
 " Nay, Sir, by your leave. Console yourself, Sir. 
 The Devil, if Nancy is his companion, cannot fail to 
 be speedily converted. He will then, perhaps, join 
 your Society." 
 
 "Joseph," I said, "let me speak. Oh! nothing 
 that I can say will move your heart or your reason. 
 You are too far apart from me. I cannot reach to 
 you. But I want this gentleman whom you have in- 
 sulted to understand what all this means." 
 
 Joseph grunted, but made no reply. 
 
 "I was driven mad by your cruel doctrines: my 
 cousin pretended to be still a Quakeress in order to 
 get me away. I should have been a poor raving mad 
 woman but for her deception. Oh ! my mind was 
 sick with terror. Edward ! You could never under- 
 stand how sick and miserable I had become. I hated 
 even the name of my God, whom I feared with a 
 terror not to be told in words." 
 
 " Poor Nancy ! I have heard of these things among 
 enthusiasts." 
 
 " Then my cousin came, and changed me within 
 and without: she gave me music and taught me to
 
 My Brother Joseph. 241 
 
 love painting and singing and dancing. Then, Ed 
 ward, your brother led me into the fold of the Church 
 where we are all sheep of one pasture, with one Shep- 
 herd who will lead us all — all — all " But here I 
 
 broke into tears. 
 
 " Calm yourself, Nancy," said Edward. " Make an 
 end of it. You had better go, Sir." 
 
 Then I recovered, and finished what I had to say. 
 " I owe all this to the kindest and best woman of the 
 world — to Isabel Storey. As for returning with you, 
 Joseph, learn that, rather than do so, I would become 
 a scullery-maid in this house. Understand me clearly, 
 Joseph. I will never go back to the house. Only to 
 think of that sepulchre makes me tremble and shake. 
 Now go, brother." 
 
 He growled something which I did not understand. 
 
 "Come, Joseph. Your authority is finished. Leave 
 me. 
 
 " If I go, it is for ever. I cast thee off. None of 
 my money shalt thee have ; not one farthing." 
 
 " She shall have her own, though," said Edward. 
 
 " One more chance — Wilt thee come, sister?" 
 
 " One more reply — No, brother ! " 
 
 Joseph turned and walked slowly down stairs. 
 
 I have never seen him since ; and now, I suppose, I 
 never shall see him. I have heard that he married— I 
 know not the name of his wife. She was, of course, a 
 member of the Society of Friends. 
 
 As regards Joseph's threat of keeping all the money 
 in his own hands, Edward was as good as his word ; 
 for he sent a person learned in the law who asked me
 
 242 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 a good many questions, and then went to Dartford, 
 where he spoke at length with Joseph. It appeared 
 that no will had been found on the death of my 
 father, and that Joseph had quietly stepped into pos- 
 session, intending to keep everything as his by right : 
 that, being undisturbed so long, he had come to re- 
 gard himself as the rightful owner of everything. 
 When, therefore, he learned that there was no quibble 
 or pretence that would save him, but that he would 
 be compelled to pay over to his sister nothing less 
 than one half of the whole estate, including the great 
 house and gardens: the furniture: the paper mills, 
 worth I know not how much every year : many houses 
 and cottages in Dartford and elsewhere : certain farms 
 in Kent : and certain shares and stocks in London : 
 when, I say, he understood that there was no help for 
 it but that he must pay all this money, he became like 
 a madman, falling into a kind of fit, in which his face 
 grew purple and his neck swelled. They blooded 
 him, taking a great quantity. Presently he recovered 
 a little, and moaned and cried like a child. " The 
 half!" he lamented. "The half! I cannot and I 
 will not. The half! I am a ruined man! The half! 
 I will die first ! " And so forth, showing very plainly 
 that, in spite of his doctrine, wherein he fancied him- 
 self another Gamaliel, or even a Daniel, his mind 
 dwelt continually upon riches as the one thing needful. 
 In this way, some months afterwards, I learned that 
 I was a great heiress indeed. Robert Storey would 
 have called it a plum, and would have liked to em- 
 bark the whole in his bookselling business.
 
 My Brother Joseph. 243 
 
 No one, I suppose, would refuse unexpected wealth, 
 but I wanted little, as you shall presently learn, and 
 the rest I have endeavoured to use for the assistance 
 of those less favoured than myself. 
 
 To return. Joseph gone, Edward went back to the 
 discourse which his arrival interrupted. 
 
 " Edward," I said, " do not forget what I said. 
 Suffer George to tell me himself. Whatever he bids 
 me to do — that will I do. But he — and he alone — 
 must tell me that we must part. Not from your lips 
 will I have it — though I think you love me too." 
 
 " God knows, Nancy ! " he murmured. 
 
 " Let George tell me himself. He will come this 
 evening. I will ask my cousin to stay in her own 
 room. Leave us alone. George shall tell me what 
 he pleases : and I will do — whatever he commands."
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 The u Tower of Brill/' 
 
 LEAVE the love-sick girl. She is best alone. Come 
 now to things of greater importance — to traitors and 
 the clash of arms. 
 
 When Edward left me he did not go down the 
 stairs but climbed up as far as Captain Sellinger's 
 room. 
 
 The Captain, who was in his shirt-sleeves, sprang to 
 his feet in some confusion when he recognised his 
 visitor. 
 
 "Sir," he cried. "This surprise — this honour." 
 He offered a chair, but his visitor remained standing. 
 
 " I have been paying a morning call upon your fair 
 neighbours," he said. " Do not disturb yourself, Sir. 
 Nay, I entreat : shirt-sleeves will not hinder discourse. 
 Now, Sir," he sat down on the table. " Let us talk." 
 
 " At your convenience, Sir." 
 
 " Well, then, I came here, Captain Sellinger, to 
 confer with you about this plaguey business — of which 
 you know." 
 
 The Captain bowed. 
 
 " Night after night the coach waits in the court, 
 and I hear the voices of the fellows below. Where is 
 it going to end ? " 
 
 " Indeed, Sir, I know not."
 
 The "Tower of Brill." 245 
 
 " Will they never grow tired of watching for the 
 opportunity that never comes?" 
 
 "We are not tired of defeating their intentions, 
 lr. 
 
 " I believe you are not. Some time or other it will 
 be my duty to acquaint my brother with the whole 
 business. But it is I who am tired of it. Let me tell 
 you, Captain Sellinger, that I am heartily sick of the 
 whole business. Let me tell you that to sneak down- 
 stairs and out of St. James's Place under convoy — 
 even the convoy of the Horse Guards — sticks. It 
 sticks in the gullet. And all for half-a-dozen damned 
 Jacobites ! " 
 
 " And yet, Sir, with submission " 
 
 " Oh, I know — I know," he replied impatiently, 
 " My brother's person must not be exposed to any 
 danger. And his reputation must be kept clear from 
 calumny. Concerning the young lady below, there 
 should be no scandal — no scandal at all, I repeat, Sir." 
 He fixed his eyes earnestly on Captain Sellinger. 
 
 "There is none, I believe, Sir." 
 
 " Well, Sir. I have considered the case, and I think 
 I have found a way by which my brother will be safe- 
 guarded — name and fame and life and limb. But I 
 shall want your help, and that of your fellow the Cor- 
 poral." 
 
 " You shall have both, Sir." 
 
 " And your silence, drunk or sober, until the thing 
 is done." 
 
 " Sir, I am never drunk till your illustrious brother 
 is safe."
 
 246 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 "Ay — ay. We don't drink on board as you drink 
 ashore, otherwise we should be on the rocks or among 
 the breakers very speedily. But of course there are 
 some . . . Captain Sellinger, there is a kind of man 
 who, when the drink is in him, babbles like a running 
 brook, the louder and the more foolish the more he 
 drinks. And there is another kind of man whose 
 lips are sealed like wax, the tighter with every glass. 
 
 To which kind, Captain " He did not finish the 
 
 question. 
 
 " To the latter kind, Sir. But, indeed, if you doubt, 
 I will undertake to drink nothing — a bottle or so, no 
 more — at a sitting until this business is despatched. 
 As for being tired, Sir, let me entreat you not to think 
 of it. They must grow weary of the nightly watch- 
 ing with the nightly baffling : they must understand, 
 by this time, that their designs are suspected ; they 
 will get tired of bribing the Dutch skipper; besides, 
 the nights grow cold ; we shall soon have frost and 
 
 snow." 
 
 " It is not certain that they will grow tired." 
 
 " The ladies might change their lodging for some 
 place unknown." 
 
 " Yes : but I want to give the fellows a lesson, and 
 as sharp as you please." 
 
 " I am pleased, Sir, with what pleases you." 
 
 " As for the termination of the business, that, Cap- 
 tain Sellinger, I frankly tell you, lies with my brother, 
 not with me." 
 
 Captain Sellinger bowed. 
 
 " But the termination of this watching and waiting
 
 The u Tower of BrilL" 247 
 
 I will end as soon as I can — and I say that I have 
 found a way in which we may end it without my 
 brother's name being so much as mentioned or sus- 
 pected." 
 
 " If, Sir, I might be trusted " 
 
 " You shall be trusted. Hang it, Captain, I have 
 climbed this steep stair of yours with no other object 
 than to trust you. There will, perhaps, be a little 
 fighting. There are six of them, you say." 
 
 " One for the coach : five for the seizure, without 
 counting the old man, the Doctor." 
 
 " Good ! We are three. Well, this is my plan. 
 The Corporal will get into hiding on the evening of 
 action : under the stairs : in the kitchen : there will 
 be a light on the wall in the passage — there is a sconce, 
 I believe. You will remain quiet upstairs in your own 
 room. At half-past nine o'clock you will come down 
 and knock at Mrs. Storey's door. I will come out : 
 we two will descend the stairs as noisily as we can : 
 this will be a signal for the Corporal to hold himself 
 in readiness. Your Jacobites will think it is my 
 brother coming downstairs with me. Out they come : 
 out flies the steel, and to it hammer and tongs. 
 What do you think of that, Captain Sellinger?" 
 
 "Why, Sir, except for the danger to yourself " 
 
 "Never fear, man; the danger to me is nothing: 
 my brother's name must not be mentioned, and those 
 fellows must be scattered. Do you agree to this plan ? 
 Can you think of a better? " 
 
 " Sir, I believe it is excellent. I will answer for the 
 Corporal when you choose to give the word,"
 
 248 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 " Why, Captain, I love not to think of your suffering 
 privation in our cause. We will strike the blow to- 
 night — this very night — and you shall go back to 
 your bottle released from your self-imposed penance." 
 
 " To-night, Sir. By all means." 
 
 So it was decided. The Captain looked after the 
 simple arrangements: one candle on the landing: an- 
 other in the passage : the Corporal in the kitchen with 
 the door locked : they allowed Molly to sit there as 
 well, on the condition that she was not to be told 
 before the evening what was intended. At half-past 
 nine, when the two gentlemen came downstairs, the 
 Corporal was to step out quickly, armed and ready 
 for the fray. 
 
 At half-past eight our friends arrived. Isabel re- 
 mained in her room, at my request, pretending a head- 
 ache. I received the two brothers. George was agi- 
 tated : he sat down to play, but rose again : he sat 
 beside me and talked about things indifferent. Ed- 
 ward, anxious for the time to pass, walked about the 
 room and looked at the clock. We were all three full 
 of disquiet. 
 
 Upstairs, the Captain sat at his window watching. 
 In the court below the coach was standing: two men 
 stood at the horses' heads : that was satisfactory. 
 The Captain shut his window and waited in the 
 dark. 
 
 Downstairs the Corporal, in his hiding-place, removed 
 the bricks and listened to the conversation in the 
 Doctor's room. They were talking about desisting 
 from the attempt : it was disheartening to find them-
 
 The "Tower of Brill." 249 
 
 selves baffled every evening : their purpose must have 
 been discovered and guarded against, and so forth. 
 The Doctor, on the other hand, earnestly entreated 
 them to persevere a few nights more ; this nightly 
 guard simply showed that Captain Sellinger had re- 
 cognized the visitors, and that he made it his business 
 sometimes to let them understand the fact : accident 
 any night might place in their hands these two gentle- 
 men, unarmed, without the power of resistance : then, 
 what a splendid prize to carry across the Channel ! 
 
 He then went out to look about him, to reconnoitre, 
 as the soldiers call it. He walked up and down St. 
 James's Place ; neither Captain nor Corporal was there : 
 he went out into St. James's Street, but could see 
 neither of them : he looked in the back garden : no 
 one was there, and the door was bolted : he tried the 
 kitchen door ; it was locked. 
 
 "Who's there?" cried Molly. "I'm not going to 
 have no one in my kitchen." 
 
 " Where's the Corporal, Molly? " 
 
 " I don't know. He's gone out." 
 
 " I would speak with the Captain, Molly. Have 
 you seen him ? " 
 
 " He's gone out too," said Molly, the shameless. 
 
 So the Doctor returned to his own room and re- 
 ported with great contentment of mind what he had 
 seen and heard. Both guards — if they were guards — 
 gone out : the job was easy : before their prisoners had 
 found room or time to draw their swords, they would 
 be seized and pinioned and gagged. A dark and 
 cloudy night, too ; a threatening of rain : nothing
 
 250 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 could be more convenient for this great and holy pur- 
 pose of theirs. 
 
 With the Doctor this evening were four men. One 
 of them, a great fat fellow of six feet or more, the 
 Corporal took to be the Skipper of the ship engaged to 
 carry the prisoners — namely, the Tower of Brill — be- 
 cause he was dressed somewhat like a sailor and be- 
 cause he talked execrable French. 
 
 " You have hired me, gentlemen," he said, " and I 
 will fight for you and carry off your prisoners for you. 
 But I think we shall come badly out of this business. 
 Every night we have been watched and baffled. Do 
 you think that knowing we are here and the object of 
 our attempt is there " — he pointed up stairs — " that 
 they will ever suffer those two persons to be without 
 a guard ? " 
 
 " There is no sign of any guard," said the Doctor. 
 
 " There must be a guard. Gentlemen, you are, no 
 doubt, prepared for the worst. After dangling for a 
 minute or two, they will cut us down and strip us and 
 prick out the place where the knife is to go. We shall 
 look very pretty, all of us. However, you have hired 
 me — I am your servant." 
 
 The others sat in patience and silence : they were 
 gentlemen of English descent, born in France. Mostly 
 they were pale of countenance, for the audacity of the 
 enterprise was such that it moved the heart even of a 
 Jacobite. 
 
 At a quarter past nine the Corporal left off listening 
 and watching and replaced his bricks. 
 
 "A few minutes more, Molly," he said, "and I am
 
 I COULD PROTECT THEM AGAINST FIFTY." — Page 2jl.
 
 The " Tower of Brill." 251 
 
 at last Fortune's Favourite. I may now speak openly, 
 because there is no fear of your tongue." 
 
 " I am no talker, Corporal." 
 
 " Thou art as discreet a woman as lives, Molly. In 
 a few minutes, therefore, let me tell thee that I shall 
 win my commission in the noblest way possible, or I 
 shall have left my wife — poor disconsolate wretch ! — to 
 the gratitude of my country, while I myself shall be 
 sitting on a golden stool or throne playing the harp." 
 
 " God forbid, Corporal ! " 
 
 " God forbid, indeed, Molly ! I confess, that at pre- 
 sent, at the early age of twenty-eight, I prefer the 
 King's commission if I could get it, even to the celes- 
 tial harp. A single jug of small ale, Molly. Thank 
 you. Learn, my girl, that the object of the bloody 
 villains in the other room is to secure the persons of 
 the two gentlemen now sitting with Madam and Miss 
 Nancy overhead — to secure their persons, Molly, and 
 to take them prisoners across the seas. To their own 
 poor beggarly country." 
 
 "What for?" asked Molly. 
 
 " That I will tell thee on another occasion. I must 
 now make ready for the fray. Ha ! my time has 
 come." He loosed his sword in its scabbard. "Ha! 
 my wrist is firm : my eye is steady. 'Tis the day of 
 Fortune — wish me luck, Molly. It is my happy 
 chance to protect those two gentlemen. I could pro- 
 tect them against fifty. Ha ! " he made as if he was 
 thrusting. " Ha ! I had you there. Come on ! Come 
 on ! Come all ! " 
 
 So he vaunted, in his braggart way ; yet it was a
 
 252 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 brave heart and ready to face death in the cause of 
 loyalty. And the moments passed all too slowly for 
 his impatient spirit. " Not half-past nine yet ? " look- 
 ing at his watch. "Molly, time crawls for the hero 
 who would still stand sword in hand. Ha ! I had you 
 there ! " 
 
 At last the expected steps were heard upon the 
 stairs, and the welcome signal — the three knocks. 
 The Corporal drew his sword and stepped out into the 
 passage dimly lit by the candle in the sconces. 
 
 The two coming down on the stairs were close to 
 the bottom : there was a little more light upon the 
 stairs from a candle higher up at the landing: the 
 Corporal saw the glimmer of their swords, which were 
 drawn. He stood waiting for one moment only. 
 Then the Doctor's door was thrown open and the four 
 men rushed out. They were unarmed : they trusted 
 to the suddenness of the attack. 
 
 " Ha ! " cried the Corporal. " Have at you ! " and 
 sprang upon them. It was the big sailor who led the 
 party, I suppose on account of his weight. He threw 
 himself forward but met, I know not in what part of 
 him, the Corporal's sword. Whether he was killed or 
 whether it was but a blood-letting will never be known, 
 for he fell with a deep groan and moved no more. 
 All this that takes time to relate passed in a moment. 
 The other three recoiled and drew their swords. Cap- 
 tain Sellinger pushed aside his companion, and stood 
 astride the fallen man sword in hand. Beside him 
 stood the Corporal, lunging and parrying and crying 
 all the time like a fencing-master. "Ha! ha! ha!"
 
 The "Tower of Brill." 253 
 
 We heard it upstairs, and could not understand what 
 had happened, the last thing in our minds being a 
 fight. Yet these were the words: "Ha! Come on 
 then! Ha! Take your bellyful, then. Ha! ha!" 
 stamping with heel as if at a fencing-school. 
 
 " It is your friend the Corporal," said George up- 
 stairs. " He is giving somebody a lesson. A strange 
 time and a strange place ! By candle-light, in a narrow 
 passage ! " 
 
 He was, indeed, giving a lesson, but not the kind of 
 lesson that we thought. 
 
 Then the old Doctor snatched up two candles that 
 stood upon the table and brought them to the door, 
 throwing their light upon the scene of battle. I say 
 that these things, as told to me by the Captain, lasted 
 not a moment. And I say, further, that the end would 
 have been the death of some besides the fat Dutch 
 skipper, who perhaps was only wounded, had it not 
 been for an unexpected blow, quite contrary to the 
 recognised principles of polite warfare. One must 
 admit that the decisive blow in this battle was 
 delivered by a woman — none other than Molly. 
 
 When she saw the Corporal rush out of the kitchen, 
 sword in hand, she ran after him : she saw him with 
 that swift lunge despatch one of the assailants — the 
 biggest and the strongest. She neither shrieked nor 
 swooned nor wrung her hands : she acted much more 
 sensibly : she ran back to her kitchen : you think, to 
 weep and wring her hands ? Not at all. Molly was 
 a quick woman : quick to see and to act : she was also 
 as strong a woman as you will meet on a summer's
 
 254 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 day: strong and strapping and brave. She remem- 
 bered — 'twas a kind of inspiration if we may venture 
 to think so — yet why not, considering the magnitude 
 of the danger and the audacity of the assailants ? Yes, 
 I needs must think it was by a kind of inspiration — 
 she remembered the great black pot hanging over the 
 fire, and filled with boiling beef broth : she quickly 
 lifted it off the chain : she carried it out in her strong 
 arms, which were burned and scarred for life, of which 
 she took no heed : and she threw the contents — the 
 bubbling, boiling broth — full in the faces of the three 
 men at the moment when their swords were drawn, 
 and the battle was beginning. 
 
 They shrieked : they dropped their swords : they 
 leaped in the air, cursing and shrieking: they were 
 scalded : they were blinded. 
 
 "What sort of a lesson is this?" asked George, 
 above. " Some one must be hurt." He rose to go 
 downstairs, but I stopped him. 
 
 " They are laughing," I said. " It is some horse- 
 play of the Captain and his friends." 
 
 The Corporal seized their swords. " Surrender, 
 gentlemen," he said. Alas ! They could neither sur- 
 render nor fight, such was the agony of their faces 
 from the boiling broth. 
 
 Captain Sellinger put up his sword. " I think, 
 Sir," he said to his chief, " that Molly, the maid, carries 
 off the honours of the field. What shall we do 
 next?" 
 
 " When these gentlemen have arrived at a lower 
 pitch of pain, which will enable them to speak — Do
 
 The "Tower of Brill." 255 
 
 you surrender, gentlemen, or shall Corporal Bates 
 finish this encounter for you ? " 
 
 " We surrender," one of them replied. 
 
 "We surrender, Sir," said Dr. Mynsterchamber, sit- 
 ting down and replacing the candles on the tabie. 
 
 "Gentlemen, I am sorry that we did not proceed to 
 a more legitimate conclusion. Let us hope that when 
 your designs are more complete, you will allow me to 
 meet you in the open field. For the moment, I have 
 but one thing to say. If we take you prisoners, there 
 is no doubt that you will end your days on Tower 
 Hill or at Newgate. As your attempt has proved 
 futile, I am disposed to think that the less said about 
 it the better. You will therefore get into the coach 
 you designed for my brother and myself: you will 
 make your way to the Tower of Brill, your ship ; and 
 if that vessel is found in the Pool to-morrow morn- 
 ing you shall all be arrested, tried, and hanged as 
 traitors." 
 
 No one replied. The pain of the scalding forbade 
 any reply. 
 
 " Here is a man either dead or wounded. Carry 
 your man away." 
 
 Thus, in grievous plight, in the agony of scalded 
 cheeks and blinded eyes, they lifted their great fat 
 skipper and bore him into the coach. 
 
 Captain Sellinger followed after. He declared 
 afterwards that the wounded man groaned audibly ; 
 so that, perhaps, he was not killed. When they were 
 all in the coach he stood at the window and addressed 
 the discomfited conspirators.
 
 256 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said, " I congratulate you. The 
 attempt was gallant : but you were ill advised in try- 
 ing to fight in so narrow a space, which exposed you 
 to the sword of the first comer — and in the flank. 
 Moreover, you did not take into account the devotion 
 of the women to our cause. Believe me, the Roman 
 Catholic Pretender, should he land, will go home with 
 a dishclout to his tail. Remember, that the evidence 
 against you is full and complete. You are allowed to 
 escape, but you are known : if any one of you should 
 venture to show his face again on this soil of Great 
 Britain, he will have himself to blame for his own trial 
 and subsequent hanging with its usual trimmings. 
 Corporal, is the coachman ready ? Good. Coachman, 
 you will get your fare embarked as soon as you can at 
 Whitehall Stairs. You are also known after your long 
 attendance in St. James's Place. You had better get 
 into the boat as well. What has been said to the 
 gentlemen inside, is also said to you. 'Ware prison ! 
 'ware gallows! Gentlemen, bon voyage! Some kinds 
 of soft soap or goose-grease are recommended for 
 scalds and burns. No doubt, on board, you will find all 
 that the ' Pharmacopoeia' itself could recommend." 
 
 The Captain returned to the house when the coach 
 had rumbled out of St. James's Place. 
 
 He found his chief sitting at the table in the 
 Doctor's room, his sword lying across the table. 
 
 " So," he said, " they are gone, Captain? Thus is 
 broken up a nest of traitors and rebels. Let them go. 
 Is the man dead ? " 
 
 " I believe he groaned as they carried him. An-
 
 The "Tower of Brill." 257 
 
 other is pricked, but I believe not seriously : the hot 
 broth did the job, Sir." 
 
 " Here is the contriver and leader in the whole busi- 
 ness. I have kept him for a little conversation." 
 
 The Doctor was dressed in a long travelling roque- 
 laure : his neck was muffled up : he wore his hat. 
 The box in which he kept his papers was open and 
 empty : his cupboard door stood open : it was evident 
 that as soon as the attempt was resolved upon he had 
 made hasty arrangements for immediate flight ; and 
 that, whether the attempt was successful or not. He 
 stood leaning against the wall, his wrinkled old face 
 showing no sign of any emotion whatever : at the door 
 stood the Corporal as guard, carrying his naked sword, 
 on the blade of which he observed with infinite grati- 
 fication signs of the recent conflict. On the table lay 
 a packet of papers, tied up. 
 
 " These papers, Captain Sellinger, were taken from 
 the pocket of our prisoner — this man whom they call 
 Dr. Mynsterchamber. He was preparing for depar- 
 ture and had tied them up in readiness. I have looked 
 at them. I find sufficient proof in them that he is a 
 double-dyed traitor. Tell me, Sir, what should I do 
 with him ? " 
 
 " Hang him ! " said the Captain, " unless some other 
 and slower form of death can be found." 
 
 The Doctor neither spoke nor moved. 
 
 " It is now some weeks since I made it my business 
 to ascertain who and what this Dr. Mynsterchamber 
 professed to be. The creature " — he spoke and looked 
 as if the man was not present — " is by profession a
 
 258 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 spy. He is a spy,£ say. He is in the service of his 
 Majesty's Government to act as a spy in France. He 
 is in the household of the Elder Pretender. As a spy 
 in our service he can come here and live here when he 
 pleases: as a Jacobite he is free to go all over France 
 as he pleases. It is a most honourable occupation. 
 First, he deceives his friends in France and reports 
 their doings. Then he comes over here and takes the 
 King's pay, and spies out our doings." 
 
 " Hang him ! Hang him ! " said the Captain. 
 
 (" They are quite quiet again," said George, up- 
 stairs. " I wonder what all the noise meant.") 
 
 " What shall we do with this villain, Captain? " 
 
 " Hang him ! " 
 
 " As for this conspiracy, it was audacious/enough to 
 be successful. Had it not been for the accidental dis- 
 covery of Corporal Bates it would have been success- 
 ful. The kingdom, for some time afterwards, would 
 have been thrown into confusion. But no great harm 
 would have followed. We've got to fight out the 
 quarrel with France, whether my brother and I are 
 prisoners or not. Still, the attempt, made by one in 
 English pay, was, as I said, audacious." He turned 
 suddenly to the prisoner, " Now, Sir, have you any- 
 thing to say ? " 
 
 The Doctor lifted his head, took off his hat, and 
 cried in a strong resolute voice — 
 
 " God save King James ! " 
 
 " The Pretender ! " said Captain Sellinger. 
 
 " And God save Prince Charles Edward ! ' 
 
 "Very good. What else have you to say before 
 you go into Newgate Jail ? ''
 
 The "Tower of Brill" 259 
 
 " Learn, Sir," the Doctor repfied with dignity, 
 " that my friends are loyal men. With us loyalty 
 means an attachment to the Throne, which you could 
 hardly be expected to understand. The loyalty of 
 the Jacobites survives everything : the stupidity of 
 one King: the profligacy of another: the obstinacy 
 of a third. If a King is a weak or a bad King, he 
 is still King by Divine appointment : we wait for a 
 better King. James the Second threw away the 
 Crown : but he could not throw away the loyalty of 
 the faithful. Our loyalty means not only loyalty to 
 death, but more : it means loyalty to dishonour if 
 necessary. I am a gentleman : my father was en- 
 nobled by James the Second when in exile : yet I am 
 a spy. I pretend to betray my King's secrets in order 
 to obtain the secrets of your Court. I take money 
 from you : in return I supply you with false informa- 
 tion as to%he strength and the destination of the 
 French fleets " 
 
 " The villain ! " said Captain Sellinger. 
 
 " And I am permitted to come over here ; to go 
 about where I please; to converse with Ministers; to 
 learn your plans. All that I learn and discover I most 
 faithfully report by means of secret messengers, who 
 are English on this side and French on the other. 
 These things — this treachery which would be dishon- 
 ouring in any other cause, are accounted among loyal- 
 ists as honourable and commendable. If, Sir, I have 
 the approbation of my King and my friends, what do 
 I care for any opinion of yours? " 
 
 " You confess that you lie, degrade, and debase your
 
 260 A Fountain Sealed* 
 
 soul every day. Yet it is in the cause of righteousness. 
 Then we may break all the Commandments daily in 
 support of the Christian Faith." 
 
 " I am loyal. That is the sum of all. Now, Sir, I 
 am ready to go to your prison. I am an old man, 
 seventy-five years of age. Not too old to die for my 
 King, but too old to fear death." 
 
 " Perhaps there will be no prison. I think, Master 
 Loyalist, that if you are once out of the country you 
 can do us very little further harm. Therefore, while 
 we keep the papers, we will not keep the writer. 
 Corporal, search the prisoner for more papers." 
 
 There were no more. All the papers were in the 
 packet lying on the table. 
 
 " Now, Sir, you can go. There will be time for you 
 to get on board the Toiver of Brill before she weighs 
 anchor. Should the ship be taken to-morrow morning, 
 I fear that you, too, will be hanged with the rest. 
 The Corporal here, who understands French, will give 
 sufficient evidence for hanging purposes." 
 
 " Oh ! ' The Doctor looked astonished. " You 
 understand French — you ? Perhaps you, too, are a 
 loyalist." 
 
 " I am. To the House of Brunswick," said the Cor- 
 poral stiffly. 
 
 " And you listened, I suppose : and reported what 
 you heard. Villain ! " Indignation choked him. 
 " A spy ! Faugh ! A spy ! " 
 
 "Come," said the Captain roughly. "What the 
 devil are you yourself? Pack ! March ! Get thee to 
 thine own friends, double-dyed traitor!"
 
 The "Tower of Brill/' 261 
 
 The Doctor walked away with dignity, tall and erect 
 as a lance, although so old. It degrades a man to be 
 a spy : but loyalty covers all. 
 
 " Corporal Bates." The Chief turned to his 
 defender. 
 
 The Corporal stood at attention. 
 
 " It is not likely that I shall ever forget the events 
 of this evening. Had it not been for your zeal in dis- 
 covering this horrid plot ', and for your discretion in 
 keeping the thing a secret ; and for your bravery this 
 evening, which at the very outset despatched one of 
 the villains, my brother and I might now have been 
 occupants of a French prison with a dismal outlook as 
 regards liberty. Or we might have fought for our 
 liberty and fallen. Be assured that as opportunity 
 offers I shall inform my brother as to these particulars. 
 Meantime, here is my purse, which contains, I believe, 
 fifty guineas. Take it, Corporal Bates, as an earnest 
 of future favours." 
 
 The Corporal received the purse with a salute and in 
 silence. He hadn't expected a gift of money, which 
 he could not refuse. Yet it was not what he wanted. 
 
 " I understand further, Corporal Bates, that you are 
 a person of many accomplishments ; speaking other 
 languages, skilled in the art of fence, able to instruct 
 in fortifications and the mathematics ; and that you are, 
 in addition, a sober man, well mannered, creditably 
 married, and in no way likely to bring discredit upon 
 epaulettes not of wool." The Corporal made no sign 
 save that his cheek turned pale. He was now on the 
 point of achieving his fondest and most constant
 
 262 A Fountrin Sealed. 
 
 dream. " I understand, further, from Captain Sellinger, 
 that you are desirous, above all things of obtaining his 
 Majesty's Commisson." 
 
 " Sir, I have no other ambition," the poor Corporal 
 murmured. 
 
 " It is a highly laudable ambition. Well, Sir, I take 
 it upon myself to speak for your valour. As to the 
 rest of your accomplishments I take the word of Cap- 
 tain Sellinger. I shall venture, Sir, to recommend 
 you to his Majesty." 
 
 The Corporal's face fell. Other patrons had made 
 him the same promise, but he remained a Corporal. 
 
 Then Captain Sellinger whispered something. 
 
 " Corporal Bates," said the Chief, " would you ex- 
 change your woolen epaulettes for the gold lace of a 
 Royal Marine ? " 
 
 " Sir, you make me the proudest man in the whole 
 world." 
 
 " Then it is as good as done. Captain Sellinger, 
 present to me Lieutenant Bates, of his Majesty's Reg- 
 iment of Royal Marines." 
 
 The Lieutenant fell on his knees while the tears of 
 joy ran down his cheek. " Sir," he said, " my only 
 prayer is that I may be sent in command of a com- 
 pany to take the enemy's forts, and that under your 
 very eyes, to justify this promotion ! " 
 
 " We will dispense with your convoy to-night, Cap- 
 tain Sellinger." So he went upstairs, nodding his head 
 good humouredly to the Corporal. 
 
 " Lieutenant Bates," said the Captain. " We are 
 now brothers-in-arms. We can drink together. There
 
 The "Tower of Brill." 263 
 
 are — ah ! — arrears to pull up and new toasts to drink. 
 ' Confusion to all Traitors and Rebels ! ' " Success to 
 the Youngest Officer in his Majesty's Service!' 'The 
 Health of the Divine Nancy ! ' Come, Lieutenant. 
 This night, if ever, thou shalt have a skinful."
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 "There shall be no Obstacle." 
 
 All that afternoon my cousin and I talked over the 
 position of things. I had no secrets from her: I told 
 her exactly what Edward had said : how at the end he 
 melted : how I had resolved to leave everything to 
 George himself. 
 
 " Not able to marry you ? What does the man 
 mean?" my cousin asked. "Why, Nancy, to be 
 sure, he is a great lord : I am certain of that : the 
 star which he sometimes wears betrays his rank : and 
 as for us, we belong only to the trading class : but 
 Love levels all : and Sir George has over and over 
 again assured me that he has never found, among the 
 greatest ladies, any whose manners are more polite 
 than your own ; nor any whose mind is purer and 
 whose face and form are more bewitching. Not marry 
 you r 
 
 " Edward was all kindness, Isabel : he shed tears 
 while he spoke to me." 
 
 " Not able to marry ? Then the creature must be 
 married already." 
 
 " Nay ; I am certain that he is not. I am, he has 
 told me, the first. His brother assures me that no 
 other woman has ever yet attracted his eyes."
 
 ** There shall be no Obstacle." 265 
 
 " Then — what can he mean ? He is of age ; his 
 father is dead ; he can please himself. Perhaps they 
 promised him when he was of tender years to some 
 girl of his own rank. Why can he not please himself? 
 If he would please himself, it would be with thee, my 
 Nancy. Of that be well assured." 
 
 " Indeed," I confessed, " I am well assured of that. 
 Never was any woman more assured of her lover's 
 truth." 
 
 " So we all think ; yet . . . not that my Reuben ever 
 gave me any cause to think otherwise. But, Nancy, 
 the question is, what are the reasons? Why cannot 
 Sir George marry you ? " 
 
 " The reasons he must tell me himself." 
 
 "Shall I ask him, child? Stay in your own room 
 this evening and I will ask him." 
 
 " Nay, but I would not have any one — not even 
 thee, cousin, between him and me. Let him tell me 
 what he pleases. If we are to part, it must come 
 from his own lips . . . ." And again tears came to 
 my relief. 
 
 " Part — part — why ? " My cousin bent over me 
 and kissed me. " Has the man eyes? Has the man 
 a heart? Part with the sweetest girl in the world? 
 He cannot, my dear. He cannot, except he were the 
 King of Great Britain and Ireland. Heart up, Nancy! 
 Heart up! Thy sweetheart shall carry thee off to 
 church — he shall — with a laugh on his lips and a shake 
 in his leg, and ring thee before all the world. Why 
 else did he wish thee to be baptised ? Why else did 
 he take us on the river and to the Gardens ? My
 
 266 A Fountain Sealed, 
 
 dear, it Were else a most monstrous thing thus to play 
 with a girl's affections. It were worse with such a 
 girl as mv Nancy, than to betray the blowsy inno- 
 cence of some milkmaid. No — no — Sir George could 
 not. His face and his discourse : his heart and his 
 mind : are too full of truth and of religion. He could 
 not, I say. Oh, he could not." 
 
 "Then there is another thing, cousin. If to marry 
 me would bring trouble upon him, it were better that 
 I should die." 
 
 "Trouble? What trouble, I pray?" she replied 
 quickly. " Out of honest love no trouble ever sprang. 
 Say he is above thee in rank, Nancy. Call him Earl 
 or Duke — he is master of himself and his own actions. 
 What can his friends do when they find it out? 
 Nothing. They may be disappointed. Those fine 
 Court ladies of whom Robert speaks so kindly will 
 tear their hair for spite. But, since the thing is 
 done " 
 
 " It is not yet done, cousin." 
 
 " It will be done — and that very soon — if I have 
 studied that young gentleman to any purpose. My 
 dear, men are like chips and matches, some of which 
 catch fire quickly and burn out in no time, while 
 others are slow to light but burn on steadily and 
 gradually. Sir George is one who is slow to light. 
 But once he burns he is all pure flame." 
 
 Thus we talked, and though my cousin assured me 
 of her perfect confidence there lay upon me the 
 weight of foreboding — a sense of coming evil. 
 
 In the evening, about half-past eight, our friends
 
 44 There shall be no Obstacle/' 267 
 
 came as usual. Isabel begged to be excused, because 
 she must go to see a poor woman in the garrets who 
 had children to clothe. So she went away, promising 
 to return shortly. 
 
 What happened next, you know. At a certain sig- 
 nal Edward went out, also promising to return shortly. 
 
 Then we heard the noise below: the trampling and 
 the shouting. 
 
 " One would think it a fencing-bout," said Sir 
 George. " A strange place and a strange time for a 
 fencing-bout! " 
 
 Then he sat down beside me. 
 
 For the first time we were alone. He sat down, I 
 say, beside me : then he sank on one knee and caught 
 my hand and began to kiss it fondly. 
 
 "Oh, Nancy! " he said, "sweet maid — heart of my 
 heart ! " I cannot write down all that he said. Sure, 
 never did fond lover express his love more passion- 
 ately, or with greater extravagance. Women do not 
 love in the same way. Their sweethearts are not gods 
 to them — yet they desire no other gods : they love the 
 man: they see him as he might be: as he was in- 
 tended to be : as the Lord meant him to be : they 
 see, though in a glass darkly, because their eyes are 
 not strong enough to gaze upon the glory, nor can 
 their minds imagine or figure to themselves the splen- 
 dour of the truth — but they see imperfectly the man 
 as he will be, glorified and made perfect 1 they under, 
 stand his shortcomings and his faults, which are to 
 them only like so many excrescences that can be 
 shaken off. Never did I worship George as he wor-
 
 268 A Fountain Sealed, 
 
 shipped me: why, the fact itself that he should find in 
 me so much perfection when I was conscious of so many 
 faults, made me feel his weakness. Yet every woman 
 likes it. Oh! how happy did it make me to be told 
 that I was a goddess ! Oh ! how did my poor heart 
 beat and the colour fly to my face when that dearest 
 and best of men — that man in whom were united all 
 the virtues of honour, truth, and purity — knelt at my 
 feet to tell me with such extravagances as moved me 
 well-nigh to tears of joy and happiness that he loved 
 me — he loved me — he loved me. 
 
 " My dearest Nancy," he said, calming himself after 
 a while. " We are so seldom alone. This is the rar- 
 est chance. It is only on such a chance that we can 
 speak. Nancy : when wilt thou be mine, altogether 
 — my bride ? " 
 
 " Oh ! When my Lord shall command. I will 
 obey in anything." 
 
 " Yes — yes — I will think. I will consult Edward. I 
 can do nothing without Edward." 
 
 " He was here this morning. He told me ... he 
 said plainly . . . that there were reasons which would 
 stand between you and me." 
 
 " What reasons are those ? I know of none that I 
 cannot meet, if I choose." 
 
 " I know not. He would not tell me. Nor, indeed, 
 did I press him, because I would know nothing except 
 from your own lips. If there are reasons, let us part 
 at once." 
 
 Part at once! Why he was sitting beside me: my 
 head was on his heart : he was kissing me fondly : one
 
 44 There shall be no Obstacle." 269 
 
 arm was round my waist : one hand was holding my 
 hand. Part at once ! 
 
 He laughed. " Part at once ? " he cried. " We will 
 part, my Nancy, when the span of life is finished and 
 I am called away. Then you shall remain to pray a 
 little for me (if it is allowed to pray for the dead)." 
 
 " Child ! " he said, after these transports, or in the 
 midst of them. " I cannot live without thee. Edward 
 has been telling me this, and that, and the other. 
 They are obstacles, he says. I will admit no obstacles. 
 I care not what they say. If I cannot please my own 
 heart, I will step down and suffer Edward to take my 
 place." 
 
 " Nay," I said, not understanding what he meant, 
 " but I love thee too well, George, to stand in thy way. 
 It is enough for me to be loved. Let me go and re- 
 member that." 
 
 "Go? Never! I will not leave thee, Nancy. Now 
 listen. There are reasons why I cannot place thee be- 
 side me : we must love in secret, and thou must live in 
 obscurity. But I would not wrong thee. Oh ! to 
 wrong this pure angel — to bring sorrow and shame 
 upon thee — I could not, Nancy, were I the deepest 
 profligate in all this wicked town. I could not, I say. 
 Believe me, dearest girl. I were not worthy to love 
 so much goodness if I were capable of such a thought." 
 
 There needed no assurance on this point. I told 
 him so. 
 
 " Edward and I have talked it over. Edward is the 
 best brother that ever lived. Of all creatures I love 
 him best — next to you. I told him, this very day,
 
 270 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 that I would hear of no obstacles. He gave way. 
 He will help us in everything. Now, Nancy, listen to 
 what we have arranged. We will be married to- 
 morrow morning — I know not in what Church — Ed- 
 ward knows: I know not by what clergyman — Edward 
 knows : in some name or other — perhaps that of Le 
 Breton — Edward knows. The coach shall come for 
 thee in the morning about eight. After the ceremony 
 we shall go to some place — it is a small house close by 
 in Catherine Wheel Alley, looking over the Park. He 
 found it, bought it, furniture and all, this afternoon : 
 he has also put a few servants in it : it shall be thy nest, 
 my love, thy bower, where thou shalt sit and dream of 
 love and of thy lover. Nancy, never did I know what 
 happiness meant until I learned to love thee. I am 
 not like one of the town gallants who catch fire at the 
 rustle of a furbelow : I cannot, I think, love a woman 
 unless I am truly persuaded that she is as beautiful 
 within as without. I would lay my whole heart open 
 to the woman I love. I would make her the casket to 
 contain all my secret thoughts, my ambitions, and 
 everything. With such a woman for a partner a man 
 might become indeed a king." He raised his head : 
 his eyes became fixed : he was one who saw in a vision 
 noble deeds and kingly thoughts. 
 
 " But thou must be effaced from view — an invisible 
 bride— canst thou do so much for me, Nancy, without 
 repining? " 
 
 41 I can do more than that, George, for such a lover — 
 I could die for him— oh ! so gladly, if it would help 
 him."
 
 "There shall be no Obstacle*" 271 
 
 With that he kissed me again, and so we continued 
 our discourse till Edward came back, this business of 
 his happily accomplished. 
 
 "You have had your fencing-bout?" said George. 
 
 " Ay, ay ! We have had the fencing-bout," he re- 
 plied. " Now, George, have you told this sweet girl 
 what to-morrow brings with it?" 
 
 " I have told her. She agrees." 
 
 Oh ! But he never asked me if I agreed. 
 
 " Then, Nancy, to-morrow we shall be brother and 
 sister — as dear to me, believe it, as any other sister 
 could be. George is not worthy of thee, I begin to 
 think. Yet a moderately fond lover; and I dare 
 swear, as constant as any of his rank in Europe. 
 Well, Nancy, I hope the house will be to thy liking. 
 The rooms are small ; the house belonged to old Lady 
 Harlow who died some months ago. There is a win- 
 dow in the first floor overlooking the park, with a 
 Venetian balcony." 
 
 "And we have never yet told her our real names," 
 said George. 
 
 " Tell me at your own leisure. Not to-night, George. 
 Let me not be dazzled with greatness. I am too 
 happy to-night. To-morrow, be Baron, Earl, or Duke 
 — what you will." 
 
 " I shall use your permission — I will be what I am. 
 I remember what you told me, about the Lord Bur- 
 leigh who married the country girl : that he should not 
 have taken her to his grand house. Have you got a 
 grand house ? "
 
 272 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 " I have two or three. In due course I shall have 
 more." 
 
 " Then, my dear, do not take me to them : leave me 
 in that modest cottage of which you speak, near at 
 hand, so that I may see you often. Let me remain in 
 obscurity : believe me, I shall never desire to take my 
 place before the world : it will be happiness enough for 
 me to be so in reality and enjoy your affection." 
 
 " Nancy ! " So he fell into a transport again, swear- 
 ing — but you know what he would swear at such a 
 moment. 
 
 At this moment my cousin returned. " Sir George," 
 she said, " I pray you to forgive me. That poor 
 woman, with her six children " 
 
 "Let me minister, through you, dear lady, to their 
 wants." So he lugged out his purse, filled with guineas, 
 and laid it in her hands. " It is a thank-offering," he 
 said. " I give thee this money in memory. This fair 
 cousin of yours, Madam, has this morning come to an 
 understanding with me. We have, in a word, arranged 
 things for our own satisfaction first ; and for the con- 
 sideration of other people — who must also be consi- 
 dered — next. I am blessed indeed, for my own part, 
 because she hath promised to become my own when- 
 ever those arrangements can be made." He spoke 
 now with the greatest dignity. "I trust, Madam, that 
 you will believe me when I assure you that whatever 
 arrangements I may be compelled to make — always 
 subject to my Nancy's approval — I shall be guided only 
 by the resolution to make her happiness the first con- 
 sideration, and her interest the chief study of my life."
 
 "There shall be no Obstacle." 273 
 
 " Oh, Sir ! oh, Nancy J . . . I have, of course, looked 
 for this. I could not choose but be aware of what was 
 going on. Else why should you and your brother so 
 often visit two simple ladies who have none of the arts 
 and accomplishments of the Great?" 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 " My Nancy has arts and accomplishments which 
 the people you call the Great cannot have. She has 
 taught me, dear Madam, some of the dangers and temp- 
 tations which beset great people. By your leave I 
 will tell you what these are. We — may I say we and 
 not they ? We, I say, have not to work for what we 
 enjoy: therefore we enjoy nothing: we have not to 
 long for something and save up for it, and deprive our- 
 selves of this and of that in order to get it : if we 
 want a thing we have it. Therefore, we value noth- 
 ing. No one contradicts us ; therefore, we think we 
 know everything, and are vain accordingly. We have 
 no uncertainty about fortune : it is true that history 
 is full of the sad ends of prince and noble : but in this 
 polite age such deaths by violence or by Civil War do 
 not happen. There will be no more murder of princes 
 in the Tower : no more beheading of Kings at White- 
 hall. Again, we know nothing of the struggle for a 
 livelihood and of the patience of women in poverty 
 and their contrivance to keep the children. We are 
 raised, as they call it, above these things. Therefore 
 we grow selfish. Now, my dear Nancy has contra- 
 dicted me times out of number. She has taught me 
 that I know nothing : she has shown me what they are 
 like — the people of whom I used to speak ignorantly.
 
 274 A Fountain Scaled. 
 
 I am lowered in my own conceit, and therefore I am 
 raised in reality. She has herself most unconsciously 
 made me more worthy — yet still most unworthy — to be 
 her lover. Believe me, Madam " — again he took my 
 hand and kissed it — " there is no rank so lofty which 
 would not be graced by Nancy. There is no title so 
 grand as that of Nancy's lover." 
 
 " Oh ! Sir," cried my cousin, quite overcome and 
 unable to say more. " Oh ! Sir ; it is too much, in- 
 deed," and so fell back into a chair, where she lay, 
 half in tears and half laughing, fanning herself vio- 
 lently. She said afterwards that the reason of this 
 emotion was the first discovery of the authority — not 
 to say the majesty — with which this young man spoke. 
 In a Bishop, she said, or in a Judge, such authority 
 might be looked for: but in so young a man 'twas 
 wonderful. However, the events of the next day 
 might possibly have coloured her imagination. All I 
 know is that the dear woman was profoundly affected 
 when she heard this gracious speech. I may say it 
 here, and once for all, that whatever my cousin did for 
 me ; whether she took me away from my sepulchral 
 home: whether she took off the Quaker habits and 
 made me drop the Quaker speech : whether she 
 showed me the wicked world : whether she allowed 
 these young men to visit us : whether she suffered 
 them to offer entertainments : all she did was done 
 out of pure love for me and consideration for me. 
 First, she would drag me out of the melancholy 
 which oppressed my soul, and next she would en- 
 Courage the passion of which she watched and knew
 
 "There shall be no Obstacle/' 275 
 
 the first beginnings. If my cousin's conduct brought 
 upon me my greatest misfortunes, it gave me my 
 greatest happiness. But for her, Robert Storey 
 might have been in my estimation a man of the finest 
 manners. Nay, more : but for her, Robert Storey 
 might have been my husband.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 To Dress the Bride. 
 
 It was late when they went away, for there was 
 much to say, and Edward was full of spirits, all the 
 more because of the victory won down below, of 
 which we heard from Molly you may be sure. 
 
 When they were gone, my cousin fell to kissing me 
 again. " Thou art born for love, Nancy. Oh ! not 
 the common kind. He who once loves thee will never 
 forget thee ! What have I read ? There is a love, 
 even between man and woman, which is heavenly 
 love : there is also the love which is earthly love. 
 Thine is the heavenly love ! So long as thy lover is 
 filled with thy image he will never go wrong : he will 
 be guided always by the principles of honour and 
 religion." 
 
 " My lover wants not that guidance, cousin." 
 
 " Women," she went on, " may pretend what they 
 please, but there is no solid happiness in life unless it 
 be accompanied by love. Oh, yes ! here one and here 
 another, cold and unfit for love. I talk of the sex, 
 my dear. 'Tis love, 'tis love — 'tis love they still de- 
 sire. Love protects them from the rubs and knocks 
 of the world : love provides them with all the good 
 things for which their husbands, work : love fills the
 
 To Dress the Bride. 277 
 
 heart. I am a widow, and I think I shall not marry 
 again because love has filled my heart and fills it still, 
 though my Reuben has been called away. Now to 
 bed, my dear. Wake in the morning with rosy cheeks 
 and bright eyes. Go not to the altar with pale cheek 
 and dull looks. Go like one who greets the day with 
 a thankful heart." 
 
 So I went to bed : but not to sleep. 
 
 In the morning, at seven o'clock, a letter came to 
 me : brought, Molly told me, by a footman in splendid 
 livery. It is the only love-letter I ever received. 
 
 " Dearest Nancy ! Dearest Nancy ! Dearest 
 Nancy ! " Thus the letter began. How tender and 
 sweet were the words ! " All night long have I been 
 awake with thy loving idea in my mind, so that I had 
 no desire to sleep, but would fain lie awake for ever. 
 It is now six of the clock, and I am sending thee this 
 note for a Valentine to greet thee on thy pillow. In 
 an hour or two thou wilt be mine. Edward has 
 arranged everything. We have only to do as he tells 
 us. It is pleasant to obey for one's own happiness. 
 Well, I enter this day upon a life of obedience. This 
 world may obey me, but I shall obey my Nancy. It 
 is like taking the vow of a monk. I take the vow of 
 poverty, for all my wealth is thine, to the uttermost 
 farthing : and of constancy to thee : and of celibacy, 
 except to thee : and of obedience. You shall hear me 
 take those vows at the altar. 
 
 " A pretty story Edward had to tell me about that 
 fencing-bout. My dear, it was no fencing-bout, but a 
 battle with Edward, Captain Scllinger, of the Horse
 
 278 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 Guards, and a Corporal on one side, and half-a-dozen 
 traitors and would-be kidnappers on the other. They 
 were peppered. I must thank Captain Sellinger at 
 the first opportunity. Edward will procure for the 
 Corporal a commission in the Royal Marines. It is a 
 pretty story, and it must be kept private for the sake 
 of certain ladies of whom we know something. If 
 Edward was endeared to me before, by a thousand acts 
 of friendship, think what I must feel for him now 
 when he has risked his life to save my liberty. Every- 
 thing was arranged: a coach in readiness: a ship in 
 waiting. Well — Providence has interfered, for which I 
 am, I hope, properly grateful. 
 
 " Thou wilt be in bed, my dearest, when you get 
 this note. Rise, Nancy, and in thy morning prayers 
 remember me. This day shall see us to the altar, and 
 ever after shall we be happy as the day is long in each 
 other's arms. My dearest — my dearest — my dearest. 
 Thy fond lover, GEORGE." 
 
 Did ever a girl receive so peremptory an order to 
 get up and dress in order to be married ? Yet did 
 ever girl kiss the bridegroom's letter with greater fond- 
 ness? Did ever girl obey so readily and so joyfully, 
 as thinking to make her lover happy if she could ? 
 
 I dressed : I took my letter to my cousin's room 
 and showed it to her. She, too, made haste to rise. I 
 called Molly : I told her that it was my wedding day : 
 that I was to be taken away, but not far, by my hus- 
 band : but that I should expect to keep her in my ser- 
 vice. 
 
 While she dressed my head, she told me about the
 
 To Dress the Bride. 279 
 
 terrible battle and the boiling broth. I rejoiced over 
 the bravery of our side, and congratulated her upon 
 her contribution. One man, she said, was carried off 
 wounded, and perhaps dead : there was a red pool of 
 blood only just dried up on the floor to show that his 
 wound was desperate. I shuddered. Was a fight, with 
 a death, of good omen to a wedding-day ? But then 
 the fight was in a good cause and the right side won. 
 
 " Corporal Bates," she said, " is well-nigh off his head. 
 He struts about this morning like one possessed. The 
 gentlemen gave him fifty guineas : the other gentle- 
 man — yours, Miss Nancy — sent his wife fifty more: 
 they are rich : the children are to have new frocks : 
 Mrs. Bates is buying a new frock: and the Corporal 
 is to be called henceforth Lieutenant." 
 
 I was pleased, indeed, to hear of his good fortune. 
 
 " The Doctor is gone," she continued. " They took 
 away his papers and they let him go. If he returns, 
 he will be hanged and drawn and quartered for a 
 French spy." 
 
 That, too, was a pleasant thing to hear. 
 
 " Well, Molly," I said. " We shall all, I hope, prove 
 fortunate over this event. Meantime, wait for your 
 share, till I go to my new home which I have not seen 
 in St. Catherine Wheel Court." 
 
 " Miss Nancy, may I go to the church, too ? " 
 
 " Surely, Molly. I could not be happy unless thou 
 wert present. The church is — we shall find out where 
 it is presently. It may be St. James's ; or St. Martin's- 
 in-the-Fields : or even St. Margaret's, Westminster: 
 but we shall find out."
 
 280 A Fountain Sealed* 
 
 " The bridegroom would like a dish of chocolate 
 and some buttered toast before starting," she said. 
 " The mornings are cold and raw. You, too, Miss 
 Nancy, must take something before you go out." 
 
 " Everything," said my cousin, always ready to wel- 
 come a cheerful aspect of Fate, " has turned out for 
 the best. You suffered from melancholia at Dart- 
 ford : you repined at that affliction : but for that you 
 would not have come to me. You gave up the 
 Society : but for that you would not have met your 
 lover. You were ignorant of the world : but for that 
 artless ignorance he would not have loved you. It 
 was necessary to tell your brother Joseph something 
 of your change. He came and stormed like a mad- 
 man, yet learned all that it was proper for you to tell 
 him. You need not keep him informed, for the future, 
 of your doings. You have explained to him the 
 things which concern him : a lawyer will make him 
 disgorge what I verily believe he intended to keep 
 altogether : it matters not how rich George may be — 
 a few more thousands are always a pleasant addition 
 to one's fortune. Thy George, dear Nancy, will be a 
 pattern to all husbands : sober, religious, virtuous, of 
 kindly temper : he is everything that a husband should 
 be. Add to this that he is young, strong, and well 
 formed. What matter if he expects obedience ? A 
 wife should obey her husband cheerfully. I always 
 did, the more readily because Reuben would never 
 command anything unless he knew that it was in ac- 
 cordance with my wishes. What was the result, my 
 dear? How was I rewarded? The whole of his for-
 
 To Dress the Bride. 281 
 
 tune devolved upon me : not a life interest, or a 
 moiety, or a third part, on which some poor widows 
 have to scratch along. Obedience ? 'Tis the first 
 mark of a good wife that she obeys cheerfully and 
 readily. An obedient wife makes an obedient hus- 
 band. Obedience ensures for a wife her own way : it 
 gives the responsibility of work to the man and the 
 enjoyment of the harvest to the woman. Never, my 
 dear, was apostolic injunction more misunderstood 
 than that in which is enjoined obedience in women." 
 
 So she went on chattering while we busied about 
 the bridal dress, giving me such hints and advice as to 
 the management of a husband as wedded women like 
 to bestow out of their experience. The sum of it all 
 is, I believe, that if two people love each other they 
 will give way to each other, study each other, take 
 care not to insist too strongly on their own wishes, 
 and never think obedience a duty, but a pleasure. 
 Alas ! It was love's labour lost, this advice, as you 
 shall presently see. 
 
 I put on my white satin frock over a hoop : Isabel 
 trimmed it with laces and with white ribbons : my hat 
 she also trimmed with white ribbons, very fine ; and 
 she gave me a pair of white silk gloves. 
 
 "It is said," she said, "that thou wilt be married 
 with so few spectators. I could wish all the Society of 
 Friends to be in the church : thy brother Joseph at 
 the head of them. And Robert Storey to stand like 
 a play-actor: and the fine Court ladies in a row : all 
 to see thy beauty, and to burst with envy at the spec- 
 tacle of thy great fortune."
 
 282 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 " Oh, dear cousin ! There will be enough — with 
 thee and Molly and Edward." 
 
 " My dear," she stepped back and looked at me 
 from top to toe, "thou art, indeed, a charming bride ! 
 Some women at the altar make charming corpses : as 
 for thee, thy colour so comes and goes ; thine eyes 
 are so bright, thy cheeks so soft ! Oh, Nancy, 
 Nancy !" she caught me in her arms — " How shall I 
 live without thee ? Oh, what a happy three months 
 have I spent ! and now, though everything ends as it 
 should, I am loth, I am loth, my dear, to let thee go." 
 
 I turned over my drawers to see what things Molly 
 should bring me. I had not much to fit out a bride. 
 But for Isabel I could not have made a decent appear- 
 ance. Among the things which I turned out, one was 
 the miniature of Mademoiselle de la Valliere, first love 
 of King Louis XIV. of France. Her sweet sad face 
 looked upon me as if with pity. Yet why should she 
 pity me, the happiest and most fortunate girl in the 
 world ? I put it down again, somewhat dashed. 
 Such little things suffice to jar upon one. We are 
 full of joy and happiness : then we remember some- 
 thing ; we hear something ; we see something ; and 
 lo ! it is like cold water poured upon the boiling pot : 
 the water sings no more, the bubbles die : it is like an 
 ice-cold wind blowing over the meadows on a warm 
 spring day: our joy is suddenly sobered.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 God Save the King! 
 
 By half-past seven I was out of Molly's hands, 
 dressed and ready for my wedding. I sat down to 
 wait. The clock ticked slowly, slowly : the hands 
 seemed unable to move. My cousin sat down beside 
 me — I remember all she said — I remember all that was 
 said and done by everybody till the end. My cousin 
 talked. Her voice was like the voice of a person afar 
 off : yet I heard it, and I remember all she said. It 
 was the shadow of coming calamity that weighed down 
 my heart. Molly brought some chocolate. My cousin 
 took a dish, talking the while. 
 
 " My dear," she said, " what shall I do without thee? 
 How shall I live? What shall I do in the long winter 
 evenings for a companion? The house will be empty. 
 The Corporal, now that he is a Lieutenant, will go 
 abroad. The Lieutenant's lady — poor Mrs. Bates! — 
 will give up her garret. Molly will go to cook for 
 thee : the old Doctor, the long lean Don Quixote, the 
 Knight of the Sorrowful Countenance — he, too, has 
 gone : to his own place — villain ! Pity the wretch 
 was not pinked, as the men say, last night. The only 
 person left at night will be the Captain with six bot- 
 tles inside his belt. What shall I do?
 
 284 A Fountrin Sealed. 
 
 " I will go and stay with you, my dear, whenever 
 thy husband is away at his country seat. Sometimes 
 when he is at home he will ask me. I think he must 
 love me. I am sure he does. But for me, he would 
 never have met his Nancy. I was the instrument of 
 Providence : the poets would call me Love's Messen- 
 ger — Venus's handmaid. He has always spoken 
 kindly of what he calls my kindness to thee, my dear, 
 as if any one with a heart could help being kind to 
 the sweetest and fondest of her sex. 
 
 " Some day, my dear, in spite of what has been 
 said, thou wilt be a great Lady. Oh ! it will be im- 
 possible for him to avoid that end. He will grow 
 only more affectionate as the time goes on : such a 
 man as this is always constant : thine image will be 
 carven so deeply on his heart that he will never be 
 able to tear it out. I know that look. I know that 
 slow, deliberate mind, which gradually grasps a thing 
 and never lets it go. Then nothing will do but he 
 must publicly place thee beside him in the full light 
 of day. Well, there is no position which thou wilt 
 not grace. And to think that Robert Storey dared to 
 aspire to thine hand ! Well ! Fools rush in where 
 angels fear to tread, as the poets say. 
 
 " Strange, that he has never told us his name and 
 family. He reserves it to be a surprise at the wedding. 
 Captain Sellinger knows, and he will not believe that 
 we do not know. Corporal Bates — now Lieutenant 
 — knows, and pretends that we know as well. The 
 old French spy and traitor knew. All the world 
 knows, it seems, except the person most concerned.
 
 God Save the King! 285 
 
 Patience, my dear. It is now a quarter to eight. In 
 half an hour thou shalt know. 
 
 " That was a pretty piece of business downstairs last 
 night. To carry off two young men of rank and 
 fortune : to design them for a French prison : I sup- 
 pose to have them held to ransom. It is like an old 
 story of Moorish pirates. I am sorry they let the 
 wretch go in peace. My dear, our friends might have 
 been killed. Now we understand what was meant by 
 his talk about loyalty. Fine loyalty, truly ! Wretch ! " 
 
 At eight o'clock the rumbling of wheels told us that 
 our bridegroom had arrived. He jumped out and ran 
 up the stairs with the eagerness of a bridegroom, threw 
 himself into my arms, regardless of my head, which he 
 nearly ruined, and regardless of Isabel's presence. 
 "My dear!" he cried. "My dear!" and kissed me 
 again and again. All the weight and fear left my 
 heart at sight and touch of my bridegroom. I was 
 perfectly happy again. 
 
 Then he perceived Isabel. " Madam," he said, bow- 
 ing low. In the presence of his bride a man may 
 well have eyes for none other — even for Mrs. Reuben 
 Storey. " Pray forgive me." 
 
 " Dear Sir, there i-s nothing to forgive, and most 
 heartily do I wish you joy." 
 
 He kissed her hand and laughed. " Joy ! " he cried. 
 " I am the most joyful man in the whole world. I 
 would exchange places with no one." 
 
 " Not even with the Kins ? " said Isabel. 
 
 ■t> 
 
 He chansred colour in a moment. Something 1 
 
 '£■> 
 
 touched him. " Indeed," he said, " I do not wish to
 
 286 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 take the place of the King." Then he recovered. 
 " Where is Edward ? " he asked, looking round him. 
 
 " He has not yet come." 
 
 " Not come ? Edward is generally most punctual. 
 Well, it is but just eight. We can afford to wait a 
 little. I shall give him ten minutes more. If he does 
 not arrive by that time, he shall be punished by not 
 being present at his brother's wedding. That would 
 indeed be a punishment for my loyal and affectionate 
 brother." 
 
 " Where is the church ? " 
 
 " I don't know. Edward knows. Oh, he will come ! 
 He will come! " 
 
 But his face showed a little anxiety. 
 
 " May we offer a dish of chocolate against the 
 morning air?" my cousin asked. 
 
 " Dear Madam, who can think of food — even of your 
 chocolate, which is the best I ever tasted — on such a 
 day as this? I wonder what makes Edward so late." 
 
 The chocolate was brought up, and he took some 
 with a little bread-and-butter cut thin and rolled as 
 Molly knew how to make it. 
 
 " Edward," he went on, " is the best of brothers. 
 Some men are jealous of their elder brother: not so 
 Edward. I have heard cases where the younger 
 wished the death of the elder. Not so Edward. 
 There is nothing he would not do for me. He has 
 arranged this business for us, Nancy, all by himself. 
 I believe he loves thee as much as I do — yet without 
 envy. The other day he began to remonstrate, all in 
 thy interests, dear girl. There must be some kind of
 
 God Save the King;! 287 
 
 end, he said. Thy name would suffer if we continued 
 night after night to enjoy the heaven of thy society. 
 He wanted me for thy happiness, dear Nancy, to give 
 up coming here : he tried to persuade me that I could 
 never hope to marry thee — could not hope— those 
 were his very words. In remonstrating Edward is 
 the very devil : these sailors know not round-about 
 methods : they steer straight as a line. Could not 
 hope — he said : his very words. I wonder why Ed- 
 ward is so late." He looked out of the window and 
 then resumed his discourse, talking rapidly as one who 
 is naturally agitated by the occasion. There were 
 other reasons for agitation of mind he knew not. In 
 a word, he was about to take a step the consequences 
 of which no one could foresee. He would not sit 
 down, therefore he kept walking up and down the 
 room, looking continually out of the window for his 
 brother. He continued, therefore, talking. " Well, 
 Edward declared that there were insuperable obsta- 
 cles. What were they? I asked him. They were this : 
 they were that. I must marry into my own class and 
 rank. Everybody would demand it. There would be 
 jealousies : the English nobles love not a mesalliance. 
 He instanced cases where jealousies amounting to 
 civil wars have followed such mesalliances. I speak 
 freely and frankly, because we have agreed, dear girl, 
 on what we shall do. There will be no jealousies 
 aroused because you will live retired and unknown. 
 The world will not know that I am married. Dear 
 Nancy, think not that I am ashamed of thee. Far 
 from it. Thou art my chiefest pride. The world will
 
 288 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 presently discover that I am not inclined to marry — 
 in my own rank. Then Edward will become of greater 
 importance. That will not harm thee, my dear, nor 
 myself. So when he talked to me of obstacles, I 
 brushed them all aside. ' Obstacle or no obstacle,' 
 I said, ' I will marry my Nancy to-morrow morning. I 
 must and I will.' 'Well, George,' he said, 'if you 
 will you must: if you must you will. As for what will 
 happen when it is discovered I know not. They can- 
 not order you off for execution on Tower Hill. Yet 
 there will be mighty indignation in certain quarters.' 
 He said a great deal more, but I made an end. ' Come 
 what may,' I swore, ' I will marry my Nancy.' ' 
 
 "And now," said my cousin, "we shall learn your 
 true name." 
 
 " I am afraid you must. Is it true that you do not 
 know it ? Yes — yes — it is true. The sweet and sim- 
 ple friendliness would have been impossible else. It 
 was because you did not, either of you, know my 
 name that you were able." 
 
 He laughed gently. " To me," he said, " one of 
 the chief charms of our friendship has been the fact 
 that you accepted our incognito with no apparent de- 
 sire to penetrate to the truth." 
 
 "Indeed, no!" my cousin replied. "It was enough 
 for us that we were receiving two gentlemen who 
 were perhaps of rank, but certainly of good breeding 
 and honour. Our Quaker experience teaches us to 
 set no value on rank alone." 
 
 " At first we doubted whether you really were 
 ignorant of our names. The people who live about
 
 God Save the King! 289 
 
 St. James's Street for the most part know us. You 
 were from the country, it is true, or from a part of 
 London which does not know the faces which are here 
 familiar. The liveries, the arms, I thought would 
 proclaim aloud " 
 
 " The Quakers do not know liveries and have no 
 knowledge of arms." 
 
 " So I learned. Well, dear ladies, what happened ? 
 I found myself, for the first time, among people who 
 were not in the least afraid of contradicting me. If 
 you only knew the happiness of being contradicted. 
 You paid me no respect on account of rank — 'twas 
 like stepping out of a prison into the open air: you 
 sought no favour from me — neither place nor pension 
 nor office — for yourselves or your friends — how charm- 
 ing to meet such people ! " 
 
 " Why, Sir," said Isabel, " what could we ask ? " 
 
 "And you — you offered no favours," he added, 
 with a blush. " In a word, dear ladies, I learned to 
 love you because you did not know me. Oh, the 
 happiness of equality ! You never flattered me : 
 when I spoke in ignorance you corrected me: you 
 told me things that I had never learned before : you 
 talked to me about the people — the working people — 
 you told me what the Quakers mean, but the Church 
 above all ! Dear Nancy, you have learned to love me 
 wholly for myself as a private gentleman, happy in the 
 duties and in the blessings of the position." He had 
 been walking about during this long speech — agitated 
 in his mind, but full of sweetness and full of dignity. 
 Then he took my hand and kissed it again. " Well,"
 
 290 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 he added, " if you really wish to know — if you can- 
 not wait until we leave the church, I will tell you now." 
 
 " George," I murmured when he took my hand. 
 " No — no — no. Let me be all yours before you tell 
 me. Then, if you must, tell me when you please. 
 But oh ! believe me. I do not wish to know. I 
 would that I could never know except that I am 
 loved by a gallant and noble gentleman, and that his 
 love is the greatest honour and the greatest happi- 
 ness of my life." 
 
 " Have it your own way, dear — all shall be your 
 own way. Ah ! " he looked out of window again. 
 " Here comes Edward running." 
 
 I sprang to my feet and looked out, beside him. 
 Why — Edward's face was pale and anxious. He ran 
 across the court as fast as he could run. He ran up 
 the stairs — again I felt the dreadful presentiment of 
 misfortune. He threw open the door. His face was 
 white : his eyes were wild — 
 
 " George ! " he cried, gasping in a harsh and broken 
 voice. 
 
 " Well, brother, you are late. But there is plenty 
 of time. Now, Nancy dear, we will go downstairs." 
 
 "Come with me, come, I say," Edward cried. 
 
 " With you ? No — you are coming with me. This 
 is my wedding-day. Are you in your senses, brother ? " 
 
 " Come with me, George. Oh ! come without ask- 
 ing why ! " 
 
 " Leave my bride ? Edward, are you mad ? " 
 
 " I wish I was. Come, George — Nancy, my poor 
 child, send him away— Mrs. Storey, take her away.
 
 *^. 4 >*m ■ 
 
 '■ -- 
 
 GEORGE STOOD SILENT, HLSHED, AWED, HIS BROTHER KNEELING 
 BEFORE HIM." Page 2QT.
 
 God Save the King! 291 
 
 For God's sake, take her into her own room — take off 
 that dress ! " 
 
 George stepped forward. " What is it ? What has 
 happened ? " 
 
 " Everybody is looking for you. Come, you must 
 come. Oh, Nancy ! Nancy ! Poor girl ! Come, 
 George ! " 
 
 " What is it, man ? " 
 
 Edward threw out his arms. " Then if you must be 
 told before her — The King is Dead ! " 
 
 Then he knelt on one knee, placed George's hand 
 on his left arm and kissed it, saying solemnly and 
 slowly — " God Save the King ! " 
 
 No one spoke for a moment — a long moment. I 
 know not how long. George stood silent, hushed, 
 awed, his brother kneeling before him. 
 
 Then the whole truth burst upon me. I reeled and 
 fell and was caught by my cousin. But I was not 
 fainting. No — I was not in a swoon. I saw and was 
 conscious of everything. 
 
 My lover, my bridegroom who was never to be my 
 husband, stood with his face turned upwards — alas ! 
 away from his bride. And his face was changed. 
 There was in it a new authority — a new majesty — 
 that of the Sovereign : a new expression, that of king- 
 ship. 
 
 Love had gone out of that face. It was filled with 
 a new emotion. The young King saw, suddenly, be- 
 fore him, the vastness of his responsibilities: the bur- 
 den of empire : the great duties. What was the simple 
 girl beside him, in presence of these things? War
 
 292 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 and peace : prosperity and adversity : the happiness 
 of millions or their misery : the sovereignty of a great, 
 proud, and free people : their love and loyalty : or 
 their hate. How could love survive that sudden 
 shock? In a moment the passion died out in his 
 heart, though the memory of it might afterwards re- 
 turn. He was the King. Needs must that he marry 
 in his own class. 
 
 How could love remain when the new kingship 
 filled the soul ? Love was gone. I knew — alas ! I 
 knew — alas! — I saw — Love had gone for ever: our 
 simple, artless Love could not live beneath the shadow 
 of the Crown. 
 
 " Dei Gratia," he murmured. " By the Grace of 
 God!" 
 
 Then he turned to me and his brother rose. 
 
 " Nancy," he said solemnly, " Fate calls me. I am 
 now the King — unworthy. Pray for me. My brother 
 will see thee. What has passed I pray thee to forget. 
 Thou art all goodness, Nancy. Farewell. Be happy." 
 He stooped and kissed my head — and I fell back. 
 
 When I recovered they were gone, and my cousin 
 was weeping beside me. 
 
 Sometimes I think it would have been better forme 
 if I had died that day. But yet . . . no — I have still 
 these tender memories which I have tried to set down. 
 I can think of my gallant Prince. I can remember 
 how he loved me. Surely no woman was ever loved 
 so well. This short chapter makes all my life. And 
 I was the first — yes — the first. I was the first. When 
 I meet him in the world to come, I shall go up to him
 
 God Save the King! 293 
 
 fearlessly. I shall say: " George, you loved me first. 
 I was the first : you loved me before the Other came 
 across the sea. A man's first love is his best. You 
 loved me first, and since I have never ceased to love 
 you, I think that my image must be in your heart 
 still."
 
 CHAPTER XXIIL 
 Conclusion, 
 
 I SAW my death warrant in his face. When the 
 sudden shock had passed away — when he understood, 
 indeed, that he was King — then the light of love, I 
 say, went out of his eyes. He kissed my forehead, 
 indeed, but it was no longer the kiss of a bridegroom. 
 I knew that it was all over. I knew that I had looked 
 upon his face for the last time. 
 
 As for the days that followed, let me forget them ; 
 or if that may not be granted, let me pass over them. 
 
 Prince Edward came often to sit with me and com- 
 fort me. Sometimes he wept with me — it was the 
 kindest heart in the world. " Consider," he said, over 
 and over again, " that a King cannot marry whom he 
 pleases, or where he pleases: he must marry among 
 the sovereign houses of Europe : he must make an 
 alliance that will advance the country either for safety 
 or for policy, or for the good of trade. His sons who 
 will succeed him must be of kingly rank on both sides: 
 his daughters must marry Princes for the good of 
 their own country. Why, if the King were to marry 
 one of his own nobility, there would be such jealousies 
 that his throne would be in danger or succession dis-
 
 Conclusion. 295 
 
 puted. Nothing is more certain than that the King 
 must belong to a Royal House and be married into a 
 Royal House." 
 
 I do not know that these words comforted me: but 
 they brought the Hand of Fate into the business. It 
 grew to appear inevitable. 
 
 " I consented," he said, " to a secret marriage 
 because George was headstrong and determined. But 
 it was with a heavy heart, believe me. Now, consider 
 what would have been your lot. A secret marriage : 
 a wife put away in a cupboard : not allowed at Court. 
 Then the House of Parliament would petition the 
 King to marry — if they knew the truth they would 
 urge him to divorce you. The Archbishop would 
 show that the case was excusable and laudable. If he 
 resisted these importunities, I believe he would have 
 to abdicate. As for your children, what would be 
 their lot ? Born in wedlock, yet not the heirs ; born 
 in the highest rank, yet possessing no rank at all." 
 
 Still I was not consoled. 
 
 " As for me," he said, " I declare that I have had no 
 happy moment since the time when I perceived that 
 George was in love with you, Nancy — and you with 
 him. For George is in everything serious and sincere. 
 It was in no light mood that he fell in love with you, 
 but seriously and sincerely. If George loved you 
 yesterday he loves you to-day. Yet I do not think 
 that he will speak much about it to me, not even to 
 me. His sorrows he will lock up in his own heart. 
 His memory he will keep under lock and key." 
 
 A great deal more he said, but to little purpose.
 
 296 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 Time alone could heal that gaping wound, which would 
 leave a horrid scar for the rest of my days. 
 
 I heard nothing from the object, or the Cause, of 
 these troubles. At first I thought he would send me 
 a letter : but the days went on : no letter came. Then 
 I thought he would send me a message or a token : 
 but the days went on : there was no token nor any 
 message. No letter, token, or message has ever come 
 to me. And now I am glad to think that he chose to 
 sever the bond as he did, at one stroke. 
 
 Edward spoke about it. " At that fatal moment," 
 he told me, " George said ' Farewell.' He meant you, 
 and me, and your cousin to understand, then, that it 
 was ' Farewell.' He has since talked to me, but only 
 once, and with few words. He said, 'What must be 
 done had best be done as quickly as possible. I have 
 said ' Farewell.' " 
 
 Wonderful it was how the thought that one might 
 be cast away but not forgotten comforted me. Since 
 I was led to suspect that he was suffering on my ac- 
 count it seemed a duty plainly laid upon me to strive 
 after such resignation as I might attain to. 
 
 I told Edward this, and began to put on some 
 measure of cheerfulness. When one is young, it is 
 not difficult, even in the worst kind of bereavement, 
 when the object of one's affection is not dead, but 
 carried away out of reach and beyond the power of 
 speech. 
 
 He was patient with me : he saw that I took some 
 small pleasure in his coming. He came, therefore, 
 every day. But everything, as you know, was
 
 Conclusion. 297 
 
 changed. The whole house was changed. To begin 
 with, Captain Sellinger's elder brother had died un- 
 expectedly, the day after King George the Second, 
 and left him the title of Viscount De Lys and an 
 estate, so that he resigned his commission in the 
 Guards and went to live upon his country estates. 
 Corporal Bates had become Lieutenant Bates of the 
 Royal Marines, and was off to sea. He called to say 
 farewell, looking very gallant in his new uniform and 
 the gold lace instead of the woollen epaulettes. 
 
 " Ladies," he said, " I have come to ask your good 
 wishes. I am now on the lowest step of the ladder. 
 A soldier has no chance until he has the King's com- 
 mission. I start for Portsmouth to-night — I join my 
 corps on arrival. If I am lucky in action I may be 
 gazetted to my company in a few weeks. Then, 
 ladies, to victory or death ! It may be the gallant 
 death of a simple Lieutenant : it may be the funeral 
 of a hero in Westminster Abbey. Fortune of war ! 
 Fortune of war ! " 
 
 We asked him what would become of his wife and 
 children. They were to stay on in the house, but had 
 come down from the garrets to the second floor. So 
 he went off, to meet his death, poor man. Yet one 
 would not pity him, because I am sure that his last 
 breath must have been one of satisfaction that he had 
 been permitted to fall on the field. The Doctor was 
 gone : no one ever set eyes upon that man again : he 
 and his treacheries and villainies are now, I suppose, 
 all dead and forgotten. 
 
 One day about the end of November Prince Edward
 
 298 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 spoke to me seriously about my future. What did I 
 wish to do ? Where would I live ? I had been re- 
 flecting on the subject for some time, and my mind 
 was made up, as you shall see. 
 
 I told you that by my father's death without a will 
 I was entitled to half the fortune which he left behind 
 him. My brother had in his keeping the whole, as 
 you have seen. 
 
 " I have been wishing," I said, " to converse with you 
 upon this subject. My cousin would have me live on 
 with her. But I am a kind of wife — a woman that 
 was to have been a wife — and I must live as an inde- 
 pendent woman." 
 
 " Quite so." 
 
 " I do not wish to live in London. I desire to find 
 a cottage in the country, where with a garden and a 
 few books, and Molly to wait upon me, I can medi- 
 tate." 
 
 " Nancy, you are but young. This is but a passing 
 storm." 
 
 " Nay, it is what you sailors call a Jawricano. My 
 ship is wrecked well-nigh to sinking." 
 
 " Say that you find the cottage, how long before you 
 will pine after London again?" 
 
 " Edward, do you know me so little ? " 
 
 " Well . . . first, there is this inheritance of yours. 
 Let me at least instruct some of my people to get that 
 out of your brother's hand." 
 
 " Yes, if you will be so kind. At first I was set 
 against interfering with my brother at all. Let him 
 keep everything, I thought. It is all he cares about.
 
 Conclusion. 299 
 
 15ut afterwards I reflected that it would be best to 
 have the means of retrieving a little distress in the 
 world. There is so much poverty and unhappiness. 
 I also am myself so unhappy that I can feel for all. 
 It is the consolation which the Lord gives to the un- 
 happy." Here Edward turned away his head. " So, 
 if you will be so kind, get for me what is mine. It 
 may be little, or it may be much. And now let me 
 open all my mind." 
 
 He took my hand, but said nothing. 
 
 " Remember, Edward, I was promised to him — to 
 your brother. I am his, as much as any nun is vowed 
 to Christ. But one short half-hour more, and you 
 would have been my brother." 
 
 " Nancy," he said, " I am your brother. I am 
 always your brother. Tell me all — all — that weighs 
 down your poor soul." 
 
 " Let me feel, then, that I am in reality your sister. 
 Send me not adrift in the world. Let me feel that I 
 owe something of my life to you, besides the memories. 
 That cottage in the country of which we spoke— give 
 it to me, Edward, yourself, for the sake of your 
 brother. Let it be your gift — your wedding gift — for 
 the wedding which will never be celebrated. Oh ! my 
 brother — let me live in a house that I may call my 
 brother's gift. And come to see me sometimes. It 
 will be a consolation to me only to call you brother." 
 
 I have done. The house in which I live was given 
 to me by Prince Edward, Duke of York. It hath been 
 rumoured abroad, I believe, that it was given to me 
 by the King himself. The house, with all the furni-
 
 300 A Fountain Sealed. 
 
 ture, was bought for me, and given to me, I say by 
 Prince Edward, in remembrance of that happy time 
 when the royal brothers came night after night to 
 talk with two simple gentlewomen. 
 
 My story is told. Many a Prince has loved a 
 maiden beneath his rank. Love cares not for rank 
 and station. Yet never before, I think, was a poor 
 woman so suddenly dashed to the ground as I myself. 
 I hear people speaking of his happiness, his domestic 
 happiness, with the Royal Lady his consort. Oh ! 
 think not I grudge his happiness: he cannot be too 
 happy for me : my prayers go up for him both day 
 and night : but still I feel — yes — I cannot choose but 
 feel — I was the first — I was the first. Before the 
 Other came across the sea, I was the first. 
 
 THE END.
 
 The City of Refuge. 
 
 By SIR WALTER BESANT. 
 
 Author of " Beyond the Dreams of Avarice" " Armorcl of 
 
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 The basis of the novel is a strike in an English factory, but 
 there is a love-story running through it, and it contains many in- 
 teresting and amusing characters depicted in Mr. Barr's well- 
 known vein. This book, which is now appearing serially, is 
 regarded by competent critics as the best work that Mr. Barr has 
 ever done. 
 
 Mr. Barr's other Recent Books Include: 
 
 A Woman Intervenes 
 
 l2mo. Linen, Beautifully stamped with Colored Inks 
 and Silver. With 20 Full-page Illustrations by Hal 
 Hurst. $1.25. 
 
 "A Woman Intervenes " deals with life on both sides of the 
 Atlantic. Its characters include promoters, :tock speculators, 
 mining engineers, and last but not least the modern newspaper 
 woman. 
 
 " So interesting that you will be -willing to cut short your sleep 
 in order to finish it." — The Goldsmith. 
 
 Revenge 
 
 With 12 Full-page Illustrations. i2mo. Tastefully 
 Stamped with Silver and Colored Inks. $1.25. 
 
 A collection of short stories for which Mr. Barr is so famous. 
 The motive of each story is revenge, and the different tales are 
 marked by wonderful fertility 0/ plot and are all of absorbing 
 interest. 
 
 " Mr, Barr is certainly one of the best living short-story 
 writers, and his ability, humor, fecundity, dramatic insight 
 and knowledge of men arid things seem to be improving as the 
 days go by." — Detroit Tribune. 
 
 ^* ^* ^* 
 
 For Sale by all Booksellers, or Sent Postpaid. 
 
 FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY, 
 
 27 and 29, West 23rd Street, New York. 
 
 Pltast Mention THE POCKET MAGAZINE.
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000 600 811 4