Tl 
 
 i^ 
 
 Hi
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 IO>1X)N : FEINTED ET WILLIAM CLOWES AND SOKS, STAIIFOED STP.EEr 
 AND CHARIKG CROSS
 
 GEIFFITH GAUNT 
 
 OB, 
 
 JEALOUSY. 
 
 By CHARLES READE. 
 
 IN TEEUE VOLUMES. 
 VOL I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 
 
 • 18G6. 
 
 (Right of Eeproduclion and Translation reserved.)
 
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 *' Then I say once for all, that priest shall never 
 darken my doors again." 
 
 " Then I say they are my doors and not yom:s, 
 and that holy man shall brighten them \vhenever 
 he will." 
 
 The gentleman and lady, who faced eacli other 
 pale and furious, and interchanged this bitter 
 defiance, were man and wife. And had loved 
 each other well. 
 
 Miss Catherine Peyton was a young lady of 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 ancient family in Cnmberlancl, and the most 
 striking, but least popular, beauty in the county. 
 She "was very tall and straight, and carried 
 herself a little too imperiously ; yet she would 
 sometimes relax and all but dissolve that haughty 
 figure, and hang sweetly drooping over her 
 favourites: then the contrast was delicious, and 
 the woman fascinating-. 
 
 Her hair was golden and glossy ; her eyes a 
 lovely grey ; and she had a way of turning them 
 on slowly and full, so that their victim could not 
 fail to observe two things : 1. that tliey were 
 grand and beautiful orbs; 2. that they were 
 thoughtfully overlooking him instead of looking 
 at him. 
 
 ; So contemplated by glorious eyes, a man feels 
 small ; and litter. 
 
 Catherine was apt to receive the blunt com- 
 pliments of the Cumlerland squires with this 
 sweet, celestial, superior gaze, and for this, and
 
 GEIFFltH GAUNT. 3 
 
 other imperial charms, was more admired than 
 liked. 
 
 The family estate was entailed on her brother ; 
 her father spent every farthing he could ; so she 
 had no money, and no expectations, except from a 
 distant cousin, Mr. Charlton, of Hernshaw Castle 
 and Bolton Hall. 
 
 Even these soon dwindled : Mr. Charlton took 
 a fancy to his late wife's relation, Griffith Gaunt, 
 and had him into his house, and treated him as 
 his heir. This disheartened two admirers who 
 had hitherto sustained Catherine Peyton's gaze, 
 and they retired. Comely girls, girls long-nosed 
 but rich, girls snub-nosed but Avinning, married on 
 all sides of her, but the imperial beauty remained 
 Miss Peyton at two-and-twenty. 
 
 She was rather kind to the poor ; would give 
 them money out of her slender purse, and would 
 even nmke clothes for the women, and sometimes 
 read to them (very few of them could read to 
 
 B 2
 
 4 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 themselves in tliat day). All she required in 
 return was that they should be Roman Catholics, 
 like herself, or at least pretend they might be 
 brought to that faith by little and little. 
 
 She was a high-minded girl ; and could be a 
 womanly one — whenever she chose. 
 
 She hunted about twice a week in the season, 
 and was at home in the saddle, for she had ridden 
 from a child ; but so ingrained was her character, 
 thsit this sport, which more or less unsexes most 
 women, had no perceptible effect on her mind nor 
 eyen on her manners. The scarlet riding-habit, 
 £md little purple cap, and the great white bony 
 horse she rode, were often seen in a good place at 
 the end of a long run : but, for all that, the lady 
 was a most ungenial fox-huntress; she never 
 spoke a word but to her acquaintances, and wore 
 a settled air of dreamy indifference, except when 
 the hounds happened to be in full cry, and she 
 galloping at their heels. Worse than that, when
 
 GKIFFITH GAUNT. D 
 
 tlie hounds were running into the fox, and his fate 
 certain, she had been known to rein in her strug- 
 gling horse, and pace thoughtfully home, instead 
 of coming in at the death, and claiming the- 
 brush. 
 
 One day being complimented, at the end of a> 
 hard run, by the gentleman who kept the hounds, 
 she turned her celestial orbs on him and said, 
 " Nay, Sir Ealph, I love to gallop ; and this sorry 
 business it gives me an excuse." 
 
 It was full a hundred years ago : the country 
 teemed with foxes ; but it abounded in stiff 
 coverts, and a knowing fox was sure to run from' 
 one to another ; and then came wearisome efforts 
 to dislodge him; and then IMiss Peyton's grey 
 eyes used to explore vacancy, and ignore her 
 companions, biped and quadruped. 
 .• But one day they drew Yewtree Brow and 
 found a stray fox. At Gaylad's first note he-
 
 6 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 broke cover and went away for home across the 
 open, country. A hedger saw him. steal out, and 
 gave a view Jialloo ; the riders came round helter 
 skelter; the hounds in cover one by one threw up 
 their noses and voices ; the horns blew, the canine 
 music swelled to a strong chorus, and away they 
 swept across country, dogs, horses, men ; and the 
 deuce take the hindmost. 
 
 It was a gallant chase, and our dreamy virgin's 
 blood got up. Erect, but lithe and vigorous, and 
 one with her great white gelding, she came flying 
 behind the foremost riders, and took leap for leap 
 with them ; one glossy, golden curl streamed back 
 in the rushing air, her grey eyes glowed with 
 earthly fire, and two red spots on the upper part 
 of her cheeks showed she was much excited with- 
 out a grain of fear ; yet in the first ten minutes 
 one gentleman was unhorsed befoi-e her eyes, and 
 one came to gi'ief along with his animal, and a 
 thorough-bred chestnut was galloping and snorting
 
 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 beside lier witli empty saddle. Presently young 
 Featherstone, Avho led lier by about fifteen yards, 
 <}rasbed tbrougli a liigli hedge, and was seen no 
 more, but beard wallowing iu the deejD unsuspected 
 clitcli beyond. ' There was no time to draw bridle. 
 " Lie still, sir, if you please," said Catherine, with 
 cool civility ; then up rein, in spur, and she cleared 
 the ditch and its muddy contents, alive and dead, 
 and away without looking behind her. 
 
 On, on, on, till all the pinks and buckskins, erst 
 so smart, were splashed with clay and dirt of every 
 hue, and all the horses' late glossy coats were 
 bathed with sweat and lathered with foam, and 
 their gaping nostrils blowing and glowing red; 
 and then it was that Harrowden brook, swollen 
 wide and deep by the late rains, came right 
 between the fox and Dogmore imderwood, for 
 which he Avas making. 
 
 The hunt sweeping down a hill-side caught 
 sight of Keynard running for the brook. They
 
 8 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 made sure of him now. But lie lapped a drop^ 
 and then slipped in, and soon crawled out on the 
 other side, and made feebly for the covert, 
 weighted with wet fur. 
 
 At sight of him the hunt hallooed and trum- 
 peted, and came tearing on with fresh vigour. . 
 
 But, when they came near the brook, lo ! it was- 
 twenty feet wide, and running fast and brown. 
 Some riders skirted it, looking for a narrow part. 
 Two horses, being spurred at it, came to the bank, 
 and then went rearing round on their heels, de- 
 positing one hat and another rider in the current. 
 One gallant steed planted his feet like a tower^ 
 and snorted down at the water. One flopped 
 gravely in and had to swim, and be dragged out. 
 Another leaped, and landed with his feet on the 
 other bank, his haunches in the water, and his 
 rider curled round his neck and glaring out 
 between his retroverted ears. 
 
 But Miss Peyton encouraged her horse with
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 9 
 
 spur and voice, set her teeth, turned rather pale 
 this time, and went at the brook with a rush, and 
 cleared it like a deer. She and the huntsman 
 were almost alone together on the other side, and 
 were as close to the hounds as the hounds were 
 to poor pug, when he slipped through a run 
 in a quickset hedge, and glided into Dogmore 
 underwood, a stiff hazel coppice of five years' 
 growth. 
 
 The other riders soon straggled up, and then 
 the thing was to get him out again. There were 
 a few narrow roads cut in the underwood, and up 
 and down these the huntsman and whipper-in 
 went trotting, and encouraged the staunch hounds, 
 and whipped the skulkers back into covert. 
 Others galloped uselessly about, pounding the 
 earth, for daisy-cutters were few in those days ; 
 and Miss Peyton relapsed into the transcendental. 
 She sat in one place with her elbow on her knee, 
 and her fair chin supported by two fingers, as un-
 
 10 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 disturbed by the fracas of horns and voices as an 
 equestrian statue of Diana. 
 
 She sat so still, and so long, at a corner of the 
 underwood, that at last the harassed fox stole out 
 close to her, with lolling tongue and eye askant, 
 and took the open field again. She thrilled at 
 first sight of him, and her cheeks burned ; but her 
 €{uick eye took in all the signs of his distress, and 
 she sat quiet and watched him coolly. Not so her 
 horse ; he plunged and then trembled all over, and 
 planted his fore-feet together at this angle s., and 
 parted his hind-legs a little, and so stood quivering, 
 with cocked ears, and peeped over a low paling at 
 the retiring quadruped ; and fretted and sweated, 
 in anticipation of the gallop his long head told him 
 was to follow. He looked a deal more statuesque 
 than any three statues in England ; and all about 
 a creature not up to his knee — and by-the-by; 
 the gentlemen that carve horses in our native isle, 
 did they ever see one ? — Out of an omnibus ? The
 
 GEIFFITH GAUNT II 
 
 whipper-in came by and found him in this gallant 
 attitude, and suspected the truth ; but, observing 
 the rider's tranquil position, thought the fox had 
 only popped out and then in again. However, 
 he fell in with the huntsman and told him Miss 
 Peyton's grey had seen something. The hounds 
 appeared puzzled ; and so the huntsman rode 
 round to Miss Peyton, and, touching his cap, 
 asked her if she had seen anything of the fox. 
 
 She looked him dreamily in the face. " The 
 fox," said she : " he broke cover ten minutes ago." 
 
 The man blew his horn lustily, and then asked 
 her reproachfully why she had not tally-hoed him, 
 or winded her horn ; with that he blew his own 
 again impatiently. Miss Peyton replied very 
 slowly and pensively that the fox had come out 
 soiled and fatigued, and trailing his brush. "I 
 looked at him," said she, "and I pitied him; he 
 was one, and we are many ; he was so little, and 
 we are so big : he had given us a good gallop ;
 
 12 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 and so I made up my mind be should live to run 
 another day." 
 
 The huntsman stared stupidly at her for a 
 moment, then burst into a torrent of oaths, then 
 blew his horn till it was hoarse, then cursed and 
 swore till he was hoarse himself ; then to his horn 
 again, and dogs and men came rushing to the 
 sound. 
 
 " Couple up and go home to supper," said Miss 
 Peyton, quietly. " The fox is half-way to Gallows- 
 tree Gorse, and you won't get hiin out of that this 
 afternoon, I promise you." 
 
 As she said this, she just touched her horse with 
 the spur, leaped the low hedge in front of her, and 
 cantered slowly home across country ; she was 
 one that seldom troubled the hard road, go where 
 she would. 
 
 She had ridden about a mile when she heard a 
 horse's feet behind her ; she smiled, and her 
 colour rose a little, but she cantered on.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 13 
 
 « Halt ! in the King's name," shouted a mellow 
 voice, and a gentleman galloped up to her side, 
 and reined in his mare. 
 
 "TMiat! have they killed ?" inquired Catherine, 
 
 demurely. 
 
 " Not they ; he is in the middle of GaUowstree 
 Gorse by now." 
 
 " And is this the way to GaUowstree Gorse ?" 
 
 " Nay, mistress," said the young man ; " but, 
 when the fox heads one way and the deer another, 
 what is a poor hunter to do ?" 
 
 " Follow the slower, it seems." 
 
 " Say the lovelier and the' dearer, sweet Kate." 
 
 *' Now, Griffith, you know I hate flattery," said 
 Kate; and the next moment came a soft smile, 
 and belied this unsocial sentiment. 
 
 " Flattery ?" said the lover. " I have no tongue 
 to speak half your praise, I think the people in 
 this country are as blind as bats, or they'd "" 
 
 " All except Mr. Griffith Gaunt ; lie has found
 
 14 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 a paragon where wiser people see a wa3rward, 
 capricious girl." 
 
 " Then lie is the man for you. Don't you see 
 that, mistress ?" 
 
 " No, I don't quite see that," said the lady, drily. 
 
 This cavalier reply caused a dismay the speaker 
 never intended. The fact is, Mr. George Neville, 
 young, handsome, and rich, had lately settled' in 
 the county, and had been greatly smitten with 
 Kate. The county was talking about it, and 
 Griffith had been secretly on thorns for some days 
 past. And now he could hide liis uneasiness no 
 longer ; he cried out, in a sharp, trembling voice, 
 " Why, Kate, my dear Kate, what, could you love 
 any man but me ? Could you be so cruel ? — could 
 you ? There, let me get off my horse, and lie 
 down on this stublile, and you ride over me, and 
 trample me to death. I would rather have you 
 trample on my ribs, than on my heart with loving 
 any one but me."
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 15 
 
 **' Why, what now ?" said Catherine, drawing 
 herself up. " I must scold you handsomely ;" and 
 she drew rein and turned full upon him ; but by 
 this means she saw his face was full of real dis- 
 tress ; so, insteard of reprimanding him, she said 
 gently, " Why, Griffith, what is to do ? Are you 
 not my servant ? Do not I send you word when- 
 ever I dine from home ?" 
 
 " Yes, dearest ; and then I call at that house, 
 and stick there till they guess what I would be at, 
 and ask me too." 
 
 Catherine smiled ; and proceeded to remind 
 him that thrice a week she permitted him to ride 
 over from Bolton (a distance of fifteen miles) to 
 see her. 
 
 " Yes," replied Griffith, " and I must say you 
 always come, wet or dry, to the shrubbery gate, 
 and put your hand in mine a minute. And Kate," 
 said he piteously, " at the bare thought of your 
 putting that same dear hand in another man's, my
 
 16 GRIFFITH GAUNT, 
 
 heart turns sick within me, and my skin burns and 
 trembles on me." 
 
 "But you have no cause," said Catherine, 
 soothingly. " Nobody, except yourself, doubts 
 my affection for you. You are often thrown in 
 my teeth, Griffith — and (clenching her own) I like 
 you all the better — of course." 
 
 Griffitli replied with a burst of gratitude : and 
 then, as men will, proceeded to encroach. " Ah," 
 said he, " if you would but pluck up courage, and 
 take the matrimonial fence with me at once." 
 
 Miss Peyton sighed at that and drooped a little 
 upon her saddle. After a pause, she enumerated 
 the " just impediments." She reminded him that 
 neither of them had means to marry on. 
 
 He made light of that, he should soon have 
 plenty ; Mr. Charlton had as good as told him he 
 was to have Bolton Hall and Grange : " Six 
 hundred acres, Kate, besides the park and pad- 
 docks."
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 17 
 
 In ids warmth lie forgot that Catherine was to» 
 have been Mr. Charlton's heir. Catherine was too 
 high-minded to bear Griffith any grudge ; but she 
 coloured a little, and said she was averse to come- 
 to him a penniless bride. 
 
 "Why, what matters it which of us has the- 
 dross, so that there is enough for both?" saidi. 
 Griffith, with an air of astonishment. 
 
 Catherine smiled approbation, and tacitly yielded 
 that point. But then she objected the difference 
 in then* faith. 
 
 "Oh, honest folk get to heaven by different 
 roads," said Griffith, carelessly. 
 
 "I have been taught otherwise," replied. 
 Catherine, gravely. 
 
 " Then give me your hand and I'll give you my 
 soul," said Griffith Gaunt, impetuously. " I'll gO' 
 to heaven your way, if you can't go mine. Any- 
 thing sooner than be parted in this world, or the 
 next." 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 She looked at liim in silence ; and it was in a 
 faint half apologetic tone she objected that all her 
 kinsfolk were set against it." 
 
 " It is not their business ; it is ours," was the 
 prompt reply. 
 
 " Well, then," said Catherine, sadly, '•' I suppose 
 T must tell you the true reason ; I feel I should 
 not make you happy ; I do not love you quite 
 as you want to be loved, as you deserve to be 
 loved. You need not look so ; nothing in flesh 
 and blood is your rival. But my heart it bleeds 
 for the church I think of her ancient glory in 
 this kingdom,' and, when I see her present con- 
 dition, I lojig to devote myself to her service. I 
 am very fit to be an abbess or a nun ; most imfit 
 to be a wife. No, no ; I must not, ought not, dare 
 not, marry a Protestant. Take the advice of one 
 who esteems you dearly ; leave me — fly from me 
 — forget me — do everything but hate me. Nay, 
 do not hate me : you little know the struggle in
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 19 
 
 my miud. Farewell ; the saints, whom you scorn, 
 watch over and protect you : farewell." 
 
 And with this she sighed, and struck her sjmr 
 into the grey, and he darted oft' at a gallop. 
 
 Griffith, little able to cope with such a character 
 as this, sat petrified, and would have been rooted 
 to the spot if he had happened to be on foot. But 
 his mare set off after her companion, and a chase 
 of a novel kind commenced. Catherine's horse 
 was fresher than Griffith's mare, and the latter, 
 not being urged by her petrified master, lost 
 ground. 
 
 But, when she drew near to her father's gate, 
 Catherine relaxed her speed, and Griffith rejoined 
 her. 
 
 She had already half relented, and only wanted a 
 warm and resolute wooer to bring her round. But 
 Griffith was too sore, and too little versed in 
 woman. Full of suspicion and bitterness he 
 paced gloomy and silent by her side, till they 
 
 c 2
 
 20 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 reached the great avenue that led to her father's 
 house. 
 
 And, while he rides alongside the capricious 
 creature in sulicy silence, I may as well reveal a 
 certain foible in his own character. 
 
 This Griffith Gaunt was by no means deficient 
 in physical courage ; but he was instinctively dis- 
 posed to run away from mental pain the moment 
 he lost hope of driving it away from him. For 
 instance, if Catherine had been ill and her life in 
 danger, he Avould have ridden day and night to 
 save her ; but if she had died he would either 
 have killed himself, or else fled the country, and 
 so escaped the sight of every object that was asso- 
 ciated with her, and could agonize him. I do not 
 tliink he could have attended the funeral of one he 
 loved. 
 
 - The mind, as well as the body, has its self-pro- 
 tecting instincts. This of Griffith's was after all 
 an instinct of that class, and, under certain circum-
 
 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 21 
 
 stances, is true wisdom. But Griffith, I think, 
 carried the instinct to excess ; and that is why I 
 call it his foible. 
 
 " Catherine," said he, resolutely, " let me ride 
 by your side to the house for once ; for I read 
 your advice my own way, and I mean to follow 
 it : after to-day you will be troubled with me no 
 more. I have loved you these three years, I have 
 courted you these two years, and I am none the 
 nearer. I see I am not the man you mean to 
 marry ; so I shall do as my father did, ride down 
 to the coast, and sell my horse, and ship for foreign 
 parts." 
 
 " Oh ! as you will," said Catherine, haughtily. 
 She quite forgot she had just recommended him to 
 do something of this very kind. 
 
 Presently she stole a look. His fine ruddy 
 cheek was pale ; his manly brown eyes were 
 moist; yet a gloomy and resolute expression on 
 Ids tight-drawn lips. She looked at him sidelong,
 
 22 GEIFFITH GAUXT. 
 
 and thought how often he had ridden thh-ty miles 
 on that very mare to get a word with her at the 
 shrubbery gate. And now the mare to be sold ! 
 The man to go broken-hearted to sea ; perhaps 
 to his death ! . Her good heart began to yearn. 
 " Griffith," said she, softly, " it is not as if I was 
 going to wed anybody else. Is it nothing to be 
 preferred by her you say you love ? If I was yon 
 I would do nothing rash ? Why not give me a 
 little time ? In truth, I hardly know my own 
 mind about it two days together." 
 
 " Kate," said the young man, firmly, " I am 
 courting you this two years. If I wait two years 
 more it will be but to see the right man come and 
 carry you in. a month; for so girls are won when 
 they are won at all. Your sister that is married 
 and dead she held Josh Pitt in hand for vears; 
 and what is the upshot ? Why, he wears the willow 
 for her to this day ; and her husband, he married 
 again before her grave was green. Nay, I have
 
 GUIFFITH GAUNT. 23 
 
 done all an honest man can do to woo you ; so take 
 me now or let me go." 
 
 At this, Kate began to waver secretly, and ask 
 herself whether it would not be better to yield, 
 since he was so resolute. 
 
 But the unlucky fellow did not leave well alone. 
 He went on to say, " Once out of sight of this place 
 I may cure myself of my fancy. Here I never could." 
 "Oh!" said Catherine, directly, " if you are so 
 bent on beii^g cured, it would not become me to 
 say nay." 
 
 Griffith Gaunt bit his lip and hung his head, and 
 made no reply. 
 
 The patience with whicli he received her hard 
 speech was more apparent than real : but it told. 
 Catherine, receiving no fresh positive provocation, 
 relented again of her OAvn accord, and, after a con- 
 siderable silence, whispered softly, "Think how we 
 should all miss you." 
 
 Here was an overture to reconcihation. But
 
 1!4 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 unfortunately it brouo-lit out what had long been 
 ranklino- in Griffith's mind, and was in fact the 
 r-eal cause of the misunderstanding. " Oh !" said 
 he, " those I care for will soon find another to take 
 my place. Soon ; quotha. They have not waited 
 till I Avas gone for that." 
 
 "Ah, indeed!" said Catherine, with some sur- 
 prise : then, like the quick-witted girl she was, " so 
 this is what all the coil is about." She then, with 
 a charming smile, begged him to inform her who 
 was his destined successor in her esteem. Griffith 
 coloured purple at her cool hypocrisy (for such he 
 considered it), and replied, almost fiercely, "who 
 but that young black-a-vised George Neville, that 
 you have been coquetting with this month past ; 
 and danced all night with him at Lady Munster's 
 ball, you did." 
 
 Catherine blushed, and said dej^recatingl)-, 
 "'•' You were not there, Griffith ; or to be sure I 
 Lad not danced with hhn."
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 25 
 
 . ^' And lie toasts you by name •svberever lie goes." 
 "Can I help that? Wait till I toast him 
 before you make yourself ridiculous, and me very 
 angry — about nothing." 
 
 GrifiSth, sticking to his one idea, replied dog- 
 gedly, " Mistress Alice Peyton shilly-shallied with 
 her true lover for vears — till Eichard Hilton came 
 
 that Avas not fit to tie his shoes, and then ." 
 
 Catherine cut him short : " Affront me, if nothing- 
 less will serve ; but spare my sister in her grave." 
 She began this sentence angrily, but concluded it 
 in a broken voice. Griffith was half disarmed ; 
 but only half. He answered sullenly, " She did 
 not die till she had jilted an honest gentleman 
 and broken his heart, and married a sot, to her 
 cost. And you are of her breed, when all is done ; 
 and now that vouni? coxcomb has come, like Dick 
 Hilton, between you and me." 
 
 "But I do not encourasie him." 
 : " You do not c?/.scourage hiui," retorted Griffith,
 
 26 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 " or he would not be so hot after yoii. Were you 
 ever the woman to say, ' I have a servant already 
 that loves me dear ?' — That one frank word had 
 sent him packing." 
 
 Miss Peyton coloured, and the water came into 
 her eyes. " I may have been imprudent," she 
 murmured. "The young gentleman made me 
 smile with his extravac^ance. I never thouo-lit to 
 be misunderstood by him, far less by you." Then, 
 suddenly, bold as brass, " 'Tis all your fault ; if 
 he had the power to make you uneasy, why did 
 you not check me before ?" 
 
 " Ay, forsooth ! and have it cast in my teeth 
 I was a jealous monster, and played the tyrant 
 before my time. A poor fellow scarce knows what 
 to be at, that loves a coquette." 
 
 " Coquette I am none," replied the lady^ 
 bridling magnificently. 
 
 Griffith toolv no notice of this interruption.' He 
 proceeded to say that he had hitherto endm-ed
 
 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 27 
 
 this intrusion qf a rival in silence, though with a 
 sore heart, hoping his patience might touch her, 
 or the fire go out of itself. But at last, unable to 
 bear it any longer in silence, he had shown his 
 wound to one he knew could feel for him, his 
 poor friend Pitt. Pitt, had then, let him Imow 
 that his own mistake had been over-confidence 
 in Alice Peyton's constancy. "He said to me, 
 * Watch your Kate close, and, at the first blush of 
 a rival, say you to her, part with him, or part with 
 me. 
 
 Catherine pinned him du-ectly. " And this is 
 how you take Joshua Pitt's advice ; by offering to 
 run away from this sorry rival." 
 
 The shrewd reply, and a curl of the lip, half 
 arch, half contemptuous, that accompanied the 
 thrust, staggered the less ready Griffith. He got 
 puzzled, and showed it. 
 
 " Well, but," stammered he at last, " your 
 spirit is high ; I was mostly afeard to put it so
 
 28 GEIFFITH GAUN'T. 
 
 plump to you. So I thought I would go about a 
 bit. However, it comes to the same thing ; for 
 this I do know, that if you refuse me your hand 
 this day, it is to give it to a new acquaintance, 
 as your Alice did before you. And, if it is to be 
 so, 'tis best for me to be gone ; best for liim, and 
 best for you. You don't know me, Kate, for as 
 clever as you are. At the thought of your playing 
 me false, after all these years, and marrying that 
 George Neville, my heart turns to ice, and then 
 to fire, and my head seems ready to burst, and 
 my hands to do mad and bloody acts. Ay, I feel 
 I should kill him, or you, or both, at the church 
 porch. Ah !" He suddenly griped her arm, and at 
 the same time involuntarily checked his mare. 
 
 Both horses stopped. 
 
 She raised her head with an inquiring look, and 
 saw her lover's face discoloured with passion, and 
 so strangely convulsed, that she feared at first he 
 was in a fit, or stricken with death or palsy.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 29 
 
 She uttered a cry of alarm, and stretclied forth 
 her hand towards him. 
 
 But the next moment she drew it back from 
 him ; for, following his eye, she discerned the 
 cause of this ghastly look. Her father's house 
 stood at the end of the avenue they had just 
 entered; but there was another approach to it, 
 viz., by a bridle-road at right angles to the avenue 
 or main entrance; and up that bridle-road a 
 gentleman was walking his horse, and bade fair to 
 meet them at the hall door. 
 
 It was youDg Neville. There was no mistak- 
 ing his piebald charger for any other animal in 
 that county. 
 
 Kate Peyton glanced from lover to lover, and 
 shuddered at Griffith. She was familiar with 
 petty jealousy ; she had even detected it pinching 
 or colouring many a pretty face that tried very 
 liard to hide it all the time. But that was nothing
 
 so GEIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 to what she' sdw now. Hitherto she had but 
 beheld the feeling of jealousy, but now she 
 witnessed the livid passion of jealousy writhing in 
 every lineament of a human face. That terrible 
 passion had transfigured its victim in a moment : 
 the ruddy, genial, kindly Griffith, with his soft 
 brown eye, was gone ; and in his place lowered a 
 face, older, and discoloured, and convulsed, and 
 almost demoniacal. 
 
 Women (wiser perhaps in this than men) take 
 their strongest impressions by the eye, not ear. 
 Catherine, I say, looked at him she had hitherto 
 thought she knew ; looked and feared him. And, 
 even while she looked, and shuddered, Griffith 
 spurred his mare sharply, and then drew her head 
 across the grey gelding's path. It was an instinc- 
 tive impulse to bar the lady he loved from taking 
 another step towards the place where his rival 
 awaited her. "I cannot bear it," he gasped. 
 " Choose you now once for all between that puppy 
 
 I
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 31 
 
 there and me," and he pointed with liis vidinc^- 
 whip at his rival, and waited with his teeth 
 clenched for her decision. 
 
 The movement was rapid, the gesture large and 
 commanding, and the words manly ; for what says 
 the fighting poet ? — 
 
 " He either fears his fate too much. 
 Or his deserts are small ; 
 Who fears to put it to the touch. 
 To win or lose it all."
 
 32 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Miss Peyton drew herself up, and back, by one 
 motion, like a queen at bay; but still she eyed 
 him with a certain respect, and was careful now 
 not to provoke nor pain him needlessly. 
 
 "I prefer you — though you speak harshly tO' 
 me, sir," said she, with gentle dignity. 
 
 " Then give me your hand with that man in 
 sight, and end my torments : promise to marry 
 me this very week. Ah, Kate ! have pity on your 
 poor faithful servant who has loved you so long." 
 
 " I do, Griffith, I do," said she sweetly ; " but I 
 shall never marry now. Only set yom- mind at 
 rest about Mr. Neville there. He has never asked 
 me, for one thing."
 
 GRIFFITH GAL'NT. 33 
 
 *' He soon wiJl then." 
 
 " No, no ; I declare I will be very cool to him 
 after what you have said to me. But I cannot 
 marry you neither. I dare not. Listen to me, 
 and do pray govern your temper as I am doing- 
 mine. I have often read of men with a passion 
 for jealousy — I mean men whose jealousy feeds 
 upon air, and defies reason. I know you now for 
 such a man. Marriasfe would not cure this mad- 
 ness, for -wives do not escape admiration any more 
 than maids. Something tells me you would be 
 jealous of every fool that paid me some stale 
 compliment, jealous of my female friends, and 
 jealous of my relations, and perhaps jealous of 
 your own children, and of that holy persecuted 
 church which must still have a large share of mij 
 heart. No, no ; your face and your words have 
 shown me a precipice. I tremble, and draw back, 
 and now I never inll miiriy at all ; from this day 
 I give myself to the church." 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 GRIFFITH GAU:NT. 
 
 Griffith did not believe one word of all this. 
 "That is your answer to me," said he bitterly. 
 " When the riglit man puts the question (and he 
 is not far off) you ^ill tell another tale. You 
 take me for a fool, and you mock me : you are not 
 the lass to die an old maid, and men are not the 
 fools to let you. With faces like yours the new 
 servant comes before the first one is gone. Well, 
 I have got my answer. County Cumberland, you 
 are no place for me. The ways and the fields we 
 two have rid together, oh how could I bear their 
 sight without my dear ? Why what a poor-spirited 
 fool am I to stay and whine ! Come, mistress, 
 your lover waits you there, and your discarded 
 servant knows good breeding : he leaves the coun- 
 try not to spoil your sport." 
 
 Catherine panted heavily. " Well, sir," said 
 she, *' then it is your doing, not mine. Will you 
 not even shake hands with me, Griffith?" 
 
 " I were a brute else," sighed the jealous one,
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 35 
 
 with a sudden fevulsion of feeKng. " I have spent 
 the happiest hours of my life beside you. If I 
 loved thee less I liad never left thee." 
 
 He clung a little while to her hand, more like 
 a dro^vning man than anything else ; then let 
 it go, and suddenly shook his clenched [fist in 
 the direction of George Neville, and cried out with 
 a savage yell, " My curse on him that parts us 
 twain ! And you, Kate, may God bless you single, 
 and curse you married : and that is my last word 
 in Cumberland." 
 
 " Amen," said Catherine resignedly. 
 
 And even with this they wheeled their horses 
 apart, and rode away from each other : she very 
 pale, but erect with wounded pride ; he reeling in 
 his saddle like a drunken man. 
 
 And so Griffith Gaunt, stung mad by jealousy, 
 .affronted his sweetheart, thejproudest girl in Cum- 
 berland, and, yielding to his foible, fled from his pain. 
 
 Our foibles are our manias. 
 
 D 2
 
 30 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Miss Peyton was sliocked, and grieved at bottom, 
 but she ^Yas also affronted and wounded. Now 
 anger seems to have some fine buoyant quality, 
 v/hich makes it rise and come uppermost in an 
 agitated mind. She rode proudly into the court- 
 yard of her father's house, and would not look once 
 behind to see the last of her perverse lover. 
 
 The old groom, Joe, who had taught her to ride 
 when she was six years old, saw her coming, and 
 hobbled out to hold her horse, while she alifrhted. 
 " Mistress Kate," said he, " have vou seen Master 
 Griffith Gaunt anvwheres :" 
 
 The young lady coloiu-ed at this question. 
 "Why?" said she.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 37 
 
 "Why?" repeated old Joe, a little contemptu- 
 ously. '• AVliy, where have you been not to know 
 the country is out after un T First corned Jock 
 Denuet, with his horse all in a lather, to say old 
 Mr. Charlton was took ill, and had asked for 
 Master Griffith. I told him to go to Dogmore 
 Copse : ' our Kate is a hunting, to-day,' says I, 
 ' and your Griffith he is sure not to be f\xr from 
 her gelding's tail:' a sticks in his spurs and 
 away a goes : what, han't you seen Jock 
 neither ?" 
 
 "No, no," replied Miss Peyton, impatiently : 
 " what, is there anything the matter ?" 
 
 " The matter, quo she ! Why Jock had'nt been 
 gone an hour when in rides the new footman all 
 iri a lather, and brings a letter for Master Griffith 
 from the old gentleman's housekeeper : ' you leave 
 the letter with me, in case,' says I, and I sends 
 him a field after t'other. Here be the letter." 
 
 He took off his cap and produced the letter.
 
 38 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 Catherine started at the sight of it. " Alas !" 
 said she, "this is a heavy day. Look, Joe ; sealed 
 with black ; poor cousin Charlton ! I doubt he is 
 no more." 
 
 Joe shook his head expressively, and told her 
 the butcher had come from that part not ten 
 minutes ago, with word that the blinds were all 
 down at Bolton Hall. 
 
 Poor human nature ! a gleam of joy shot through 
 Catherine's heart; this sad news would compel 
 Griffith to stay at home and bury his benefactor ; 
 and that delay would give him time to reflect; 
 and somehow or other she felt sure it would end 
 in his not going at all. 
 
 But these thoughts had no sooner passed thi'ough 
 her than she was ashamed of them and of herself. 
 What, welcome that poor old man's death because 
 it would keep her cross-grained lover at home? 
 Her cheeks burned with shame, and with a super- 
 fluous exercise of self-defence she retired from Old
 
 GEIFFITH GAUNT, 39 
 
 Joe, lest lie slioultl divine what was passing in her 
 mind. 
 
 But she was so rapt in thought that she carried 
 the letter away with her unconsciously. 
 
 As she passed through the hall she heard 
 George Neville and her father in animated con- 
 versation. She mounted the stairs softly, and 
 went into a little boudoir of her own on the first 
 floor, and sat down. The house stood high, and 
 there was a very expansive and beautiful view of 
 the countiy from this windoAV. She sat down by 
 it and di'ooped, and looked wistfully through the 
 window, and thought of the past, and fell into 
 a sad reverie. Pity began to soften her pride and 
 anger, and presently two gentle tears dimmed her 
 glorious eyes a moment, and then stole down her 
 delicate cheeks. 
 
 While she sat thus lost in the past, jovial voices 
 and crealdng boots broke suddenly upon her ear, 
 and came up the stairs : they jarred upon her ; so
 
 40 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 she cast one last glance out of the window, and 
 rose to get out of their way if possible: but it 
 was too late; a heavy step came to the door, 
 and a ruddy port-drinking face peeped in. It was 
 her father. " See-ho !" roared the jovial Squire. 
 " I've found the hare on her form : bide thou out- 
 side a moment." And he entered the room ; but 
 he had no sooner closed the door than his whole 
 manner changed from loud and jovial to agitated 
 and subdued. " Kate, my girl," said he, piteously,. 
 "I have been a bad father to thee. I have spent 
 all the money that should have been thine; thy 
 poor father can scarce look thee in the face. So 
 now I bring thee a good husband : bo a good child 
 now, and a dutiful. Neville's Court is his, and 
 Neville's Cross will be, by the entail ; and so 
 will the baronetcy. I shall see my girl Lady 
 Neville." 
 
 " Never, papa, never," cried Kate. 
 
 " Hush ! hush !" said the Squire, and put up his
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 41 
 
 hand to her in great agitation and alarm : " hush ! 
 or he will hear ye. Kate," he whispered, " are 
 you mad? Little I thought, when he asked to 
 see me, it was to offer marriage. Be a good girl 
 now : don't you quarrel with good luck. You are 
 not fit to he poor, and you have made enemies. 
 Do but think how they will flout you when I die, 
 and Bill's jade of a wife puts you to the door, as 
 she will : and now you can triumph over them 
 all ; my Lady Neville ; and make your poor father 
 happy ; my Lady Neville. Enough said, for I 
 have promised you ; so don't go and make a fool 
 of me and yourself into the bargain. And — and — 
 a word in your ear; he has lent me a hundred 
 pounds." 
 
 At this climax the father hung his head ; the 
 daughter winced and moaned out, " Papa ! how 
 could you?" 
 
 Mr. Peyton had gradually descended to that 
 intermediate stage of degradation, when the sub-
 
 42 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 stance of dignity is all gone, but its shadow, 
 shame, remains. He stamped impatiently on 
 the ground, and cut his humiliation short by 
 rushing out of the room. "Here, try your own 
 luck, youngster," he cried at the door. " She 
 knows my mind." He trampled down the staii's, 
 and young George Neville knocked respectfully at 
 the door, though it was half open ; and came in 
 •with youth's light foot, and a handsome face flushed 
 into beauty by love and hope. 
 
 Miss Peyton's eye just swept him, as he entered, 
 and with the same movement she turned away 
 her fair head and blushing cheek towards the 
 window ; yet, must I own it, she quietly moulded 
 the letter that lay in her lap, so that the address 
 was no longer visible to the new-comer. 
 
 Small secresy, verging on deceit, you are bred 
 in women's bones. 
 
 This blushing and averted cheek is one of those 
 equivocal receptions that have puzzled many a
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 43 
 
 sensible man. It is a sign of coy love ; it is a sign 
 of gentle aversion ; our mode of interpreting it is 
 simple and judicious ; wMchever it happens to 
 be we go and take it for the other. 
 
 The brisk bold wooer that now engaged Kate 
 Peyton was not the man to be dashed by a woman's 
 coyness. Handsome, daring, good-humoured, and 
 vain, he had everything in liis favour but his 
 novelty. 
 
 Look at Kate ! her eye lingers wistfully on that 
 disconsolate horseman whose every step takes him 
 farther from her; but George has her ear, and 
 draws closer and closer to it, and pours love's 
 mellow murmurs into it. 
 
 He told her he had made the grand tour, and 
 seen the beauties of every land, but none like 
 her; other ladies had certainly pleased his eye 
 for a moment, but she alone had conquered his 
 heart. He said many charming things to her,
 
 44 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 such as Griffith Gaunt had never said. Amongst 
 the rest, he assured her the beauty of her person 
 would not alone have fascinated him so deeply ; 
 but he had seen the beauty of her mind in those 
 eyes of hers that seemed not eyes, but souls ; and, 
 begging her pardon for his presumption, he aspired 
 to "sved her mind. 
 
 Such ideas had often risen in Kate's own mind ; 
 but to hear them from a man was new. She 
 looked askant throuo-h the window at the lessen- 
 ing Griffith, and thought " how the grand tour 
 improves a man !" and said as coldly as she could, 
 "I esteem you, sir, and cannot but be flattered 
 by sentiments so superior to those I am used to 
 hear; but let this go no further. I shall never 
 marry now." 
 
 Instead of being angiy at this, or telling her 
 she wanted to marry somebody else, as the in- 
 judicious Griffith had done, young Neville had 
 the address to treat it as an excellent jest, and
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 45 
 
 drew such comical pictures of all the old maids 
 in the neighbourhood, that she could not help 
 smilino;. 
 
 But the moment she smiled, the inflammable 
 frcorge made hot love to her again. Then she 
 besought him to leave her, piteously. Then he 
 said cheerfully he would leave her as soon as 
 ever she had promised to be his. At that she 
 turned sullen and hauirhtv, and looked throuo;h 
 the window and took no notice of him whatever. 
 Then, instead of being discouraged or mortified, 
 he showed imperturbable confidence and good 
 humour, and begged archly to know what in- 
 teresting object was in sight from tliat window. 
 On this she blushed and withdrew her eves from 
 the window, and so they met his. On that he 
 tln-ew himself on his knees (custom of the day), 
 . and wooed her with such a burst of passionate 
 and tearful eloquence that she began to pity him, 
 and said she, lifting her lovelv eves, "Alas ! I was
 
 46 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 born to make all those' I esteem, unhappy ;" and 
 she sighed deeply. 
 
 " Not a bit of it," said he ; " you were bom, 
 like the sun, to bless all you shine upon. Sweet 
 Mistress Kate, I love you as these country boors 
 can never be taught to love. I lay my heart, my 
 name, my substance, at your feet ; you shall not 
 be loved — you shall be worshipped. Ah! turn 
 those eyes, brimful of soul, on me again, and let 
 me try and read in them that one day, no matter 
 how distant, the delight of my eyes, the joy of all 
 my senses, the pride of Cumberland, the pearl of 
 England, the flower of womankind, the rival of 
 the angels, the darling of George Neville's heart, 
 will be George Neville's wife." 
 
 Fire and water were in his eyes, passion in 
 every tone; his manly hand grasped hers and 
 trembled, and drew her gently towards him. 
 
 Her bosom heaved; his passionate male voice 
 and manner electrified her, and made her flutter.
 
 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 47 
 
 "Spare me tliis pain," slie faltered; and she 
 looked through the window and thought, " Poor 
 Griffith was right after all, and I was wrong. He 
 had cause for jealousy, and cause for feae." 
 
 And then she pitied him who panted at her 
 side, and then was sorry for him who rode away 
 disconsolate, still lessening to her eye ; and what 
 with this conflict, and the emotion her quarrel 
 with Griffith had already caused her, she leaned 
 her head back against the shutter, and began to 
 sob low, but almost hysterically. 
 
 Now, Mr. George Neville was neither a fool nor 
 a novice. If he had never been downright in love 
 before (which I crave permission to doubt), he had 
 gone far enough on that road to make one Italian 
 lady, two French, one Austrian, and one Creole in 
 love with him ; and each of these love affaii-s had 
 given him fresh insight into the ways of women. 
 Enlightened by so many bitter-sweet experiences, 
 he saw at once that there was something more
 
 48 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 going on inside Kate's heaving Losom than he 
 €Ould have caused by offering her his hand. He 
 rose from his knees, and leaned against the 
 opposite shutter, and fixed his eyes a little sadly, 
 but very observantly, on her, as she leaned back 
 against the shutter, sobbing low, but hysterically, 
 and quivering all over. 
 
 " There's some other man at the bottom of this," 
 thought George Neville. 
 
 " Mistress Kate," said he, gently, " I do not 
 come here to make you weep. I love you like a 
 gentleman ; if you love another, take courage, tell 
 me so, and don't let your father constrain your 
 inclinations. Dearly as I love you, I would not 
 M-ed your person and your heart another's ; that 
 would be too cruel to you, and (drawing himself 
 up with sudden majesty) too unjust to myself." 
 
 Kate looked up at him through her tears, and 
 admired this man, who could love ardently, yet 
 be proud and just. And if his appeal to her
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 49 
 
 candour had been made yesterday, slie ^Yonld 
 have said frankly, " There is one I — esteem." 
 But, since the quarrel, she would not own to 
 herself, far less to another, that she loved a 
 man who had turned his back upon her. So 
 she 'parried. 
 
 " There is no one I love enough to wed," said 
 she. " I am a cold-hearted girl, born to give pain 
 to my betters. But I shall do something desperate, 
 to end all this." 
 
 " All what ?" said he, keenly. 
 " The whole thing ; my unprofitable life." 
 " Mistress Kate," said Neville, " I asked you   
 was there another man. If you had answered me 
 ' In truth there is, but he is poor and my father is 
 averse,' or the like ; then I would have stood his 
 friend, for your sake. But you say there is no 
 man you love. Then I say you shall be Dame 
 Neville." 
 
 " What, whether I Avill or no ?" 
 
 VOL. I, E
 
 50 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 "Yes ; wlietlier you tJiinh you will or no." 
 
 Catherine turned her dreamy eyes on him. 
 
 " You have had a good master. Why did you 
 not come to me sooner ?" 
 
 She was thinking more of him than of herself, 
 and in fact paying too little heed to her words. 
 But she had no sooner uttered this inadvertent 
 speech than she felt she had said too much ; she 
 blushed a rosy red, and hid her face in her hands 
 in the most charming: confusion. 
 
 ^' Sweetest, it is not an hour too late, as you do not 
 love another," was stout George Neville's reply. 
 
 But nevertheless the cunning rogue thought it 
 safest to temporize, and put his coy mistress off 
 her guard. So he ceased to alarm her by pressing 
 the question of marriage, but seduced her into a 
 charming talk, where the tojiics were not so 
 personal, and only the tones of his voice and the 
 glances of his expressive eyes were caressing. He 
 was on his mettle to please her by hook or by
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 51 
 
 crook, and was delightful, irresistible. He set her 
 at ease, and slie began to listen more, and even to 
 smile faintly, and to look through the \yindow a 
 little less perseveriugly. 
 
 Suddenly the spell was broken for a while. 
 
 And by whom ? 
 
 By the other. 
 
 Ay you may well stare. It sounds strange, but 
 it is true, that the poor forlorn horseman, hanging- 
 like a broken man, as he was, over his tired horse, 
 and wending his solitary way from her he loved, 
 and resigning the field, like a goose, to the very 
 rival he feared, did yet (like the retiring Parthian) 
 shoot an arrow right into that pretty boudoir, and 
 hit both his sweetheart and his rival ; hit them 
 hard enough to spoil their sport, and make a little 
 mischief between them — for that afternoon, at all 
 events. 
 
 The arrow came into the room after this fashion. 
 
 Kate was sitting in a very feminine attitude. 
 
 E 2
 
 52 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 When a man wants to look in any direction, he 
 turns his body and his eye the same way and does 
 it ; but women love to cast oblique regards, and 
 this their instinct is a fruitful source of their 
 graceful and characteristic postures. 
 
 Kate Peyton was at this moment a statue of her 
 sex. Her fair head leaned gently back against 
 the corner of the window shutter, her pretty feet 
 and fair person in general were opposite George 
 Neville, who sat facing the window but in the 
 middle of the room ; her arms, half pendent, half 
 extended, went listlessly aslant her and somewhat 
 to the right of her knees, yet by an exquisite turn 
 of the neck her grey eyes contrived to be looking 
 dreamily out of the window to her left. Still, in 
 this figure, that pointed one way and looked 
 another, there was no distortion ; all was easy, and 
 full of that subtle grace we artists call Repose. 
 
 But suddenly she dissolved this feminine attitude, 
 rose to her feet, and interrupted her wooer civilly.
 
 GrvIFFITH GAUNT. 53 
 
 " Excuse me," said she, " but can you tell me 
 which way that road on the hill leads to ?" 
 
 Her companion stared a little at so sudden a 
 turn in the conversation, but replied by asking her 
 with perfect good humour what road she meant. 
 
 " The one that gentleman on horseback has just 
 taken. Surely," she continued, " that road does 
 not take to Bolton Hall." 
 
 "Certainly not," said George, following the 
 direction of her finger, " Bolton lies to the right. 
 That road takes to the sea-coast by Otterbury and 
 Stanhope." 
 
 " I thought so," said Kate. " How unfortu- 
 nate ! He cannot know. But indeed how should 
 he?" 
 
 "Who cannot know? and Avhat? you speak in 
 riddles, mistress ; and how pale you are ; are you 
 ill?" 
 
 " No, not ill, sir," faltered Kate ; *' but you see 
 me much discomposed. My cousin Charlton died
 
 54 GEirFITH GAUNT. 
 
 this day ; and the news met me at the very door." 
 She could say no more. 
 
 Mr, Neville, on hearing this news, began to 
 make many excuses for having inadvertently in- 
 truded himself upon her on such a day ; but in the 
 midst of his apologies she suddenly looked him 
 full in the face, and said, Avith nervous abruptness, 
 " You talk like a preux chevalier ; I Avonder 
 whether you would ride five or six miles to do me 
 a service ?" 
 
 " Ay ; a thousand ;" said the young man, glovr- 
 ing with pleasure. " What is to do ?" 
 
 Kate pointed through the window. '*' You see 
 that gentleman on horseback. Well, I happen to 
 know he is leaving the country : he thinks that he 
 — that I — that Mr. Charlton has many years to 
 live. He must be told Mr. Charlton is dead, and 
 his presence is required at Bolton Hall. I should 
 like somebody to gallop after him, and give him 
 this letter : but my own horse is tired, and I am
 
 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 55 
 
 tired — and, to be frank, there is a little coolness be- 
 tween the gentleman liimself and me ; oli, I wish 
 him no ill, but really I am not upon terms — I do 
 not feel complaisant enough to carry a letter after 
 him ; yet I do feel that he must have it : do not 
 you tliink it would be malicious and unworthy in 
 me to keep the news from him, when I know it is 
 so?" 
 
 Young Neville smiled. '' Nay, mistress, why so 
 many words? Give me your letter, and I will 
 soon overtake the gentleman : he seems in no 
 o-reat hurrv." 
 
 Kate thanked him, and made a polite apology 
 for giving him so much trouble, and handed him 
 the letter : when it came to that, she held it out 
 to him rather irresolutely ; but he took it promptly 
 and bowed low after the fashion of the day ; she 
 curtsied ; he marched off with alacrity ; she sat 
 down again and put her head in her hand to think 
 it all over, and a chill thought ran through her ;
 
 56 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 was lier conduct wise ? What would Cxriffith 
 tliink at her employing his rival ? Would he not 
 infer Neville had entered her service in more 
 senses than one ? Perhaps he would throw the 
 letter down in a rage and never read it. 
 
 Steps came rapidly, the door opened, and there 
 was George Neville again, but not the same George 
 Neville that went out but thirtv seconds before. 
 He stood at the door looking very black, and with 
 a sardonic smile on his lips. " An excellent jest, 
 piistress," said he, ironically. 
 
 " AYhy what is the matter ?" said the lady, 
 stoutly : but her red cheeks belied her assumption 
 of innocence. 
 
 " Oh not much," said George, with a bitter 
 sneer. " It is an old story ; only I thought you 
 were nobler than the rest of your sex. This letter 
 is to I\Ir. Griffith Gaunt." 
 
 " Well, sir," said Kate, with a face of serene and 
 candid innocence.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 57 
 
 *•' Aud 3Ir. Griffitli Gaunt is a suitor of yours." 
 
 " Say, ivas. He is so no longer. He and I are 
 out. But for that, think you I had even listened 
 to — what you have been saying to me this ever so 
 long?" 
 
 "' Oh, that alters the case," said Greorge. "But 
 stay !" and he knitted his brows and reflected, l^p 
 to a moment ago the loftiness of Catherine Pey- 
 ton s demeanour, and the celestial something in 
 her soul-like dreamy eyes, had convinced him she 
 was a creature free from the small dishonesty and 
 duplicity he had noted in so many women other- 
 wise amiable and good. 
 
 But this business of the letter had shaken the 
 illusion. 
 
 " Stay," said he stiffly. " You say Mr. Gaunt 
 and you are out." 
 
 Catherine assented by a movement of her fair 
 head. 
 
 '' And he is leaving the country. Perhaps
 
 58 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 this letter is to keep liim from leaving the 
 country ?" 
 
 " Only initil he has buried his benefactor," 
 murmiu'ed Kate, in deprecating accents. 
 
 George wore a bitter sneer at this. "JMistress 
 Kate," said he, after a significant pause, "do you 
 read Moliere ?" 
 
 She bridled a little, and would not reply ; she 
 knew Moliere quite well enough not to want Ins 
 wit levelled at her head. 
 
 " Do you admire the character of Celimene ?" 
 
 No repl}^ 
 
 " You do not. How can you ? She was too 
 much your inferior. She never sent one of her 
 lovers with a letter to the other to stop his flight. 
 Well, you may eclipse Celimene ; but permit me 
 to remind you that I am George Neville, and 
 not Georges Dandin." 
 
 Miss Peyton rose from her seat with eyes that 
 literally flashed fire, and, tlie horrible truth must be
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 59 
 
 told, her first wild impulse was to reply to all this 
 Moliere with one cut of her little riding- whip : but 
 she had a swift mind, and two reflections entered 
 it together : first that this would be unlike a gentle- 
 woman ; secondly, that if she whipped Mr. Neville, 
 however slightly, he would not lend her his piebald 
 horse : so she took stronger measures ; she just 
 sank down again and faltered, " I do not under- 
 stand these bitter words : I have no lover at all : 
 I never will have one again. But it is hard to 
 think I cannot make a friend, nor keep a friend."' 
 And so lifted up her hands and began to cry 
 piteously. 
 
 Then the stout George was taken aback, and 
 made to think himself a ruffian. 
 
 " Nay, do not weep so. Mistress Kate," said he 
 hurriedly. " Come, take courage. I am not jealous 
 of Mr. Gaunt ; a man that hath been two years 
 dangling after you, and could not win you. I look 
 but to my own self-respect in the matter. I know
 
 CO GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 your sex better tlian you know yourselves : were I 
 to carry that letter you would thank me now, but 
 by and by despise me ; now as I mean you to be 
 my wife, I will not risk your contempt. Why not 
 take my horse, put who you like on him, and so 
 convey the letter to Mr. Gaunt ?" 
 
 Now this was all the fair mourner wanted ; so 
 she said, " No, no, she would not be beholden to 
 him for anything ; he had spoken harshly to her, 
 and misjudged her cruelly, cruelly : oh ! oh ! oh !" 
 
 Then he implored lier to grant him this small 
 favour : then she cleared up and said, well, sooner 
 than bear malice, she w^ould. He thanked her for 
 granting him that favour. She went off with the 
 letter, saying, " I will be back anon." But, once 
 she got clear, she opened the door again, and 
 peej)ed in at him gaily, and said she, " AVhy not 
 ask me who wrote the letter before you compared 
 me to that French coquette ?" And with this 
 made him an arch curtsy, and trii^ped away.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 61 
 
 Mr. George Neville openel liis eyes with as- 
 tonisliment. This arch question, and Kate's man- 
 ner of putting it, convinced him the obnoxious 
 missive was not a love-letter at all. He was sorry 
 now, and vexed with himself for having called her 
 a coquette, and made her cry. After all, what was 
 the mighty favour she had asked of him ? to carry 
 a sealed letter from somebody or other to a person 
 who, to be sure, had been her lover, but was so no 
 longer. A simple act of charity and civility, and 
 lie had refused it in injurious terms. 
 
 He Avas glad lie had lent his horse, and almost 
 sorry he had not taken the letter himself. 
 
 To these chivalrous self-reproaches succeeded an 
 uneasy feeling that perhaps the lady might re- 
 taliate somehow. It struck him, on reflection, that 
 the arch query she had let fly at him was accom- 
 panied with a certain sparkle of the laughing eye, 
 such as ere now hal, in his exparitnce, preceded a 
 stroke of the feminine claw.
 
 62 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 As be walked up and down, uneasy, awaiting the 
 fair one's return, her father came up, and asked 
 him, to dine and sleep. What made the invitation 
 more Welcome was that it in reality came from 
 Kate. " She tells me she has borrowed your 
 horse," said the Squire, " so says she, I am bound 
 to take care of you till daylight, and indeed our 
 ways are perilous at night." 
 
 "She is an angel!" cried the lover, all his 
 ardour revived by this unexpected trait ; " my 
 horse, my house, my hand, and my heart, are all 
 at her service by night and day." 
 
 Mr. Peyton, to wile away the time before 
 dinner, invited him to walk out and see — a 
 hog: deadly fat, as times went. But Neville 
 denied himself that satisfaction on the plea that 
 he had his orders to await Miss Peyton's return 
 where he was. The Squire was amused at his 
 excessive docility, and winked, as much as to 
 say, "I have been once upon a time in your
 
 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 63 
 
 plight ;" and go went and gloried in his hog 
 iilone. 
 
 The lover fell into a delicious reverie. He en- 
 joyed by anticipation the novel pleasure of an 
 evening passed all alone with this charming girl. 
 The father, being fi-iendly to his suit, would go to 
 sleep after dinner ; and then by the subdued light 
 of a wood-fire he would murmur his love into that 
 sweet ear for hours, until the averted head should 
 come round by degrees, and the delicious lips 
 jaeld a coy assent. He resolved the night should 
 not close till he had sm-prised, overpowered, and 
 secured his lovely bride. 
 
 These soft meditations reconciled him for awhile 
 to the prolonged absence of their object. 
 
 In the midst of them he happened to glance 
 through the window; and he saw a sight that took 
 his very breath away, and rooted him in amaze- 
 ment to the spot. About a mile from the house 
 a lady in a scarlet habit was galloping across
 
 G-i GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 country as the crow flies. Hedge, ditcli, or brook, 
 nothing stopped her an instant ; and as for the 
 pace, 
 
 She seemed iu rimuing to devour the way. 
 
 It was Kate Peyton on his piebald horse.
 
 GIIIKFITH GAUNT. 05 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 Griffith Gaunt, unknown to himself, had lost 
 temper as well as heart before he took the des- 
 perate step of leaving the country. Now his 
 temper was naturally good ; 'and, ere he had 
 ridden two miles, he recovered it. To his cost: 
 for the sustaining force of anger being gone, he 
 was alone with his grief. He drew the rein half 
 mechanically, and from a spirited canter declined 
 to a walk. 
 
 And the slower he went the chillier grew his 
 heart, till it lay half ice, half lead, in his bosom. 
 
 Parted ! oh word pregnant with misery. 
 
 Never to see those heavenly eyes again nor 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 hear that silvery voice! Never again to watch 
 that peerless form walk the minuet ; nor see it 
 lift the grey horse over a fence "with the grace and 
 spirit that seemed inseparable from it ! 
 
 Desolation streamed over him at the thought. 
 And next his forlorn mind began to cling even to 
 the inanimate objects that were dotted about the 
 place which held her. He passed a little farm- 
 house into which Kate and he had once been 
 driven by a storm, and had sat together by the 
 kitchen fire ; and the farmer's Avife had smiled on 
 them for sweethearts, and made them drink rum 
 and milk, and stay till the sun was fairly out. 
 " Ah ! good-bye, little farm," he sighed, " when 
 shall I ever see you again ?" 
 
 He passed a brook where they had often stopped 
 together and given their panting horses just a 
 mouthful after a run with the harriers. " Good- 
 bye, little brook !" said he : " you will ripple on as 
 before, and warble as you go; but I shall never
 
 GEIFFITII GAUNT. 67- 
 
 ■0 
 
 drink at your water more, nor hear your pleasant 
 murmur •witli lier I love." 
 
 lie sigliecl and crept away, still making for the 
 sea. 
 
 In the icy depression of his heart, his body and 
 his senses were half paralysed, and none would 
 have known the accomplished huntsman in this 
 broken man, who hung anyhow over his mare's 
 neck, and went to and fro in the saddle. 
 
 When he had gone about five miles, he came to 
 the crest of a hill ; he remembered that, once past 
 that brow, he could see Peyton Hall no more. 
 He turned slowly and cast a sorrowful look at it. 
 
 It was winter, but the afternoon sim had come 
 out bright. The horizontal beams struck full 
 upon the house, and all the western panes shone 
 like burnished gold ; her very abode, how glorious 
 it looked ! And he was to see it no more. 
 
 lie gazed, and gazed at the bright house till 
 love and sorrow dimmed his eyes, and he could 
 
 F 2
 
 68 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 see the beloved place no more. Then his dogged 
 will prevailed, and carried him away towards the 
 sea, but crying like a woman now, and hanging all 
 dislocated over his horse's mane. 
 
 Now about a mile farther on, as he crept along 
 on a vile and narrow road, all woe-begone and 
 broken, he heard a mighty scuny of horse's feet 
 in the field to his left ; he looked languidly up ; 
 and the first thing he saw was a great piebald 
 horse's head and neck in the act of rising in 
 the air, and doubling his fore-legs under him, 
 to leap the low hedge a yard or two in front of 
 him. 
 
 He did leap, and landed just in front of Griffith ; 
 his rider curbed him so keenly that he went back 
 almost on his haunches, and then stood motionless 
 all across the road, with quivering tail. A lady 
 in a scarlet riding-habit and purple cap, sat him 
 as if he had been a throne instead of a horse, and, 
 without moving her body, turned her head swift as
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. G9 
 
 a snake, aucl fixed lier great grey eyes full and 
 
 searchin": on Griffith Gaunt. 
 
 He uttered a little shout of joy and amazement, 
 
 his mare reared and plunged, and then was quiet. 
 
 And thus Kate Peyton and he met — at right 
 
 angles — and so close that it looked as if she had 
 
 nieant to ride him down. 
 
 How he stared at her ! how more than mortal 
 
 fair she shone, returning to those bereaved eyes of 
 
 his, as if she had really dropped from Heaven. 
 
 His clasped hands, his haggard face channelled 
 by tears, showed the keen girl she was strong 
 where she had thought herself weak, and she 
 comported herself accordingly, and in one moment 
 took a much higher tone than she had intended as 
 she came along. 
 
 " I am afraid," said she, very coldly, " you will 
 have to postpone your journey a day or two. I 
 am grieved to tell you that poor Mr. Cliarlton 
 is dead."
 
 70 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 Griffith uttered an exclamation. 
 
 "He asked for you: and messengers are out 
 after you on every side. You must go to Bolton 
 at once." 
 
 "WeU a day!" said Griffith, "has he left me 
 too ? good kind old man, on any other day I had 
 found tears for thee. But now methinks happy 
 are the dead. Alas ! sweet mistress, I hoped you 
 came to tell me you had — I might — what signifies 
 what I hoped — when I saw you had deigned to 
 ride after me. Why should I go to Bolton after 
 all?" 
 
 ' " Because you will be an ungrateful ^n•etch else. 
 What, leave others to cany   your kinsman and 
 your benefactor to his grave; while you turn 
 yom' back on him — and inherit his estate ? — For 
 shame, sir ! for shame !" 
 
 Griffith expostulated humbly. "How hardly 
 you judge me. What are Bolton Hall and Park 
 to me now ? They were to have been yours, you
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. • 71 
 
 know. And yotirs they shall be. I came between 
 and robbed yon. To be sure the old man knew 
 my mind : he said to himself, ' Griffith or Kate, 
 what matters it who has the land ? they will live 
 together on it. But all that is changed now ; you 
 will never share it with me ; and so I do feel I 
 have no right to the place. Kate, my own Kate, 
 I have heard them sneer at you for being poor, 
 and it made my heart ache. I'll stop that any- 
 way. Go you in my place to the funeral ; he 
 that is dead will forgive me ; his spirit knows 
 now what I endure : and I'll send you a writing, 
 all sealed and signed, shall make Bolton HaU and 
 Park yours : and, when you are happy with some 
 one you can love, as well as I love [you, think 
 sometimes of poor jealous Griffith, that loved you 
 dear and grudged you nothing ; but," grinding 
   his teeth and turning white, " I can't live in Cum- 
 berland, and see you in another man's arms." 
 Then Catherine trembled, and could not speak
 
 72 ' GEIFFITII GAUNT. 
 
 awhile: but at last she faltered out, ''You will 
 make me liate you." 
 
 " God forbid !" said simple Griffith. 
 
 " Well then don't thwart me, and provoke me 
 so, but just turn your horse's head and go quietly 
 home to Bolton Hall, and do your duty to the 
 dead and the living. You can't go this way for 
 me and my horse :" then, seeing him waver, this 
 virago faltered out, " and I have been so tried 
 to-day first by one, then by another, surely you 
 might have some pity on me. Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh !" 
 
 " Nay, nay," cried Griffith, all in a flutter : 
 " I'll go without more words : as I am a gentle-' 
 man I will sleep at Bolton this night, and will do 
 my duty to the dead and the living. Don't you 
 cry, sweetest : I give in. I find I have no will 
 but yours." 
 
 The next moment they were cantering side by 
 side, and never drew rein till they reached the 
 cross roads.
 
 GEIFPITH GAUNT. to 
 
 " Now tell life one tiling," stammered Griffith, 
 with a most ghastly attempt at cheeri'al indiffer- 
 ence. " How — do you — happen to be — on George 
 Neville's horse ?" 
 
 Kate had been expecting this question for some 
 time : yet she coloured high when it did come. 
 However, she had her answer pat. The horse 
 was in the stable-yard, and fresh: her own was 
 tired. " What was I to do, Griffith ? And now," 
 added she, hastily, " the sun will soon set, and the 
 roads are bad : be careful. I wish I could ask you 
 to sleep at our house : but — there are reasons — " 
 she hesitated ; she could not well tell him George 
 Neville was to dine and sleep there. 
 
 Griffith assured here there was no danger ; his 
 mare knew every foot of the way. 
 
 They parted ; Griffith rode to Bolton ; and 
 Kate rode home. . ...• 
 
 It was past dinner-time. She ran upstairs, and 
 hurried on her best gown and her diamond comb.
 
 74 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 For slie began to quake now at the prank she had 
 ph^yed with her guest's horse : and Nature taught 
 her that the best way to soften censure is — to be 
 beautiful. 
 
 on parclonue tout aiis belles. 
 
 And certainly she was passing fair ; and queenly 
 with her diamond comb. 
 
 She came down-stairs, and was received by her 
 father; he grumbled at being kept waiting for 
 dinner. 
 
 Kate easily appeased the good-natured Squire, 
 and then asked what had become of Mr. Neville. 
 
 " Oh, he is gone long ago : remembered, all of 
 a sudden, he had promised to dine with a neigh- 
 bour." 
 
 [ Kate shook her head sceptically, but said 
 nothing. But a good minute after, she inquired, 
 " How did he go ? on foot ?" 
 
 The Squire did not ]mo\\.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 75 
 
 After cliuuer old Joe souglit an iuterview, and 
 was admitted into the dining-room : 
 " Be it all right about the grey horse, Master ?" 
 « What of him ?" asked Kate. 
 " He be gone to Neville Court, Mistress. But 
 
 » 
 
 I suppose (with a horrid leer) it is all right. 
 ]\Iuster Neville told me all about it. He said, says 
 he, ' Some do break a kine or the likes on these 
 here jyful occasions ; other some do exchange 
 goold rings. Your young Mistress and me, we 
 exchange nags. She takes my pieball ; I tak-e her 
 grey ;' says he. ' Saddle him for me, Joe,' says 
 he, 'and wish me jy.' So I clapped Muster 
 Neville's saddle on the gi'ey, and a gave me a 
 goolden guinea a did, and I was so struck of a 
 heap I let un go without wishing on him jy ; but 
 I hollered it arter un, as hard as I could. How 
 you looks ! It bo all right, baint it ?" 
 
 Squire Peyton laughed heartily, and said he 
 concluded it was all right : " TIio piebald," said he,
 
 76 GKIFFITII GAUNT. 
 
 " is rising five, and Tve had the grey ten years. We 
 
 have got the sunny side of that bargain, Joe." He 
 gave Joe a glass of wine and sent him off, inflated 
 Avitli having done a good stroke in horseflesh. 
 
 As for Kate she was red as fire, and kept her 
 L*23s close as wax ; not a word could be got out of 
 her. The less she said the more she thought. 
 She was thoroughly vexed, and sore perplexed how 
 to get her grey horse back from such a man as 
 George Neville ; and yet she could not help laugh- 
 ing at the trick, and secretly admiring this cheva- 
 lier, who had kept his mortification to himself, and 
 parried an affront so gallantly. 
 
 " The good-humoured wretch !" said she to her- 
 self. " If Griffith ever goes away again, he will 
 have me, whether I like or no. No lady could 
 resist the monster long, without some other man 
 at hand to help her.'
 
 CailFFITII GAUNT. 77 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 As, when a camel drops in tlie desert, vultures, 
 hitherto unseen, come ilying from the horizon, so 
 Mr. Charlton had no sooner succumbed, than the 
 air darkened with undertakers flocking to Bolton 
 for a lugubrious job. They rode up on black 
 steeds, they crimched the gravel in grave gigs, and 
 sent in black-edged cards to Griffith, and lowered 
 their voices, and bridled their briskness, and tried 
 hard, poor souls, to be sad: and were horribly 
 complacent beneath that tliin japan of venal 
 • sympathy. 
 
 Griffith selected his Raven, and then sat down 
 o issue numerous invitations.
 
 78 GRIFFITH GAUNT, 
 
 The idea of eschewing funereal pomp had not yet 
 arisen. A gentleman of that day liked his very 
 remains to make a stir, and did not see the fun of 
 stealing into his grave like a rabbit slipping 
 aground. Mr. Charlton had even left behind him 
 a sealed letter containing a list of the persons he 
 wished to follow him to the grave, and attend the 
 rea,ding of his will. These were thirty-four ; and 
 amongst them three known to fame, viz. : George 
 Neville, Esq., Edward Peyton, Esq., and Miss 
 Catherine Peyton. 
 
 To all and each of the thii'ty-four, young Gaunt 
 wrote a formal letter inviting them to pay respect 
 to their deceased friend, and to honour himself by 
 coming to Bolton Hall at nigh noon on Saturday 
 next. These letters, in compliance with another 
 custom of the time and place, were all sent by 
 mounted messengers, and the answers came on 
 horseback too: so there was much clattering of 
 hoofs coming and going, and much roasting, bak-
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 79 
 
 ing, drinking of ale, and bustling ; all along of him 
 who lay so still in an npper chamber. 
 
 And every man and woman came to ]Mr. Gaunt 
 to ask his will and advice, however simple the 
 matter : and the servants turned very obsequious, 
 and laid themselves out to please the new master, 
 and retain their old places. 
 
 And what with the sense of authority, and the 
 occupation, and growing ambition, love-sick Griffith 
 grew another man, and began to forget that two 
 days ago he was leaving the country and going to 
 give up the whole game. 
 
 He found time to send Kate a loving letter, but 
 no talk of marriage in it. He remembered she 
 had asked him to give her time. Well, he would 
 take her advice. 
 
 It wanted just three days to the funeral, when 
 Mr, Charlton's own carriage, long unused, was 
 found to bo out of repair. Griffith had it sent to
 
 80 aRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 the nearest town, and followed it on that and other 
 business. Now it happened to be what the country 
 folk called "justicing day;" and who should ride 
 into the yard of the "Roebuck" but the new 
 magistrate, Mr. Neville ; he alighted off a great 
 bony grey horse before Griffith's very nose, and 
 sauntered into a private room. 
 . Griffith looked, and looked, and, scarcely able to 
 believe his senses, followed Neville's horse to the 
 stable, and examined him all round. 
 
 Griffith w^as sore perplexed ; and stood at the 
 stable door glaring at the horse; and sick mis- 
 o-iviufrs troubled him. He forgot the business he 
 came about, and went and hung about the bar, and 
 tried to pick up a clue to this mystery. The poor 
 wretch put on a miserable assumption of indif- 
 ference, and asked one or two of the magistrates, 
 if that was not Mr. Peyton's grey horse young 
 Neville had ridden in upon. 
 
 Now amongst these gentlemen was a young
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT 81 
 
 squire Miss Peyton had refused, and galled him. 
 He had long owed Gaunt a grudge for seeming to 
 succeed where he had notably failed, and, now, 
 hearing him talk so much about the grey, he smelt 
 a rat. He stepped into the parlour and told 
 Neville Gaunt was fuming about the grey horse, 
 and questioning everybody. Neville, though he 
 put so bold a face on ,his recent adventure at 
 Peyton Hall, was secretly smarting, and quite dis- 
 posed to sting Gaunt in return. He saw a tool in 
 this treacherous young squire — his name was 
 Galton — and used him accordingly. 
 
 Galton, thoroughly primed by Neville, slipped 
 back and, choosing his opportunity, poisoned 
 Griffith Gaunt. 
 
 And this is how he poisoned him. '-'Oh," said 
 he, " Neville has bought the grey nag ; and cost 
 him dear, it did." Griffith gave a sigh of relief; 
 for he at once concluded old Peyton had sold 
 his daughter's very horse. He resolved to buy 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 lier a better next week with Mr. Charlton's 
 money. 
 
 But Gal ton, who was only playing with him, 
 went on to explain that Neville had paid a double 
 price for the nag ; he had given Miss Peyton his 
 piebald horse in exchange, and his troth into the 
 bargain. In short, he lent the matter so adroit a 
 turn, that the exchange of horses seemed to be 
 Kate's act as much as Neville's, and the inference 
 inevitable. 
 
 " It is a falsehood," gasped Griffith. 
 
 "Nay," said Galton, "I had it on the best 
 authority: but you shall not quarrel with me 
 about it ; the lady is nought to me, and I but tell 
 the tale as 'twas told to me." 
 I " Then who told it you ?" said Gaunt, sternly. 
 
 "Wliy it is all over the county, for that 
 matter." 
 
 " No subterfuges, sir. I am the lady's servant, 
 and you know it : this report, it slanders her, and
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 83 
 
 insults me: give me the author, or I'll lay my 
 hunting whip on yom* bones." 
 
 " Two can play at that game," said Galton ; but 
 he turned pale at the prospect of the pastime. ' 
 
 Griffith strode towards him, black with ire. 
 
 Then Galton stammered out : " It was Neville 
 himself told me." 
 
 "Ah!" said Griffith; "I thought so. He is a 
 liar, and a coward." 
 
 '• I would not advise vou to tell Uim so," said 
 the other, maliciously : "he has killed his man in 
 France. Spitted him like a lark." 
 
 Griffith replied by a smile of contempt. 
 
 " Where is the man ?" said he, after a pause. 
 
 "How should I know?" asked Galton, inno- 
 cently. 
 
 " Where did you leave him five minutes ago ?" 
 
 Galton was dumbfoundered at this stroke ; and 
 could find nothing to say. 
 
 And now, as often happens, the matter took a 
 
 G 2
 
 84 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 turn not in the least anticipated by the conspii-a- 
 tors. " You must come with me, sir, if you please," 
 said Griffith, quietly: and he took Galton's arm. 
 
 " Oh, with all my heart," said the other ; " but, 
 Mr. Gaunt, do not you take these idle reports to 
 heart. I never do. W^iat the devil — where are 
 you carrying me to ? For Heaven's sake, let this 
 foolish business go no farther." 
 
 For he found Griffith was taking him to the 
 very room where Neville was. 
 
 Griffith deigned no reply: he just opened the 
 door of the room in question, and \Yalked the tale- 
 bearer into the presence of the tale-maker. George 
 Neville rose and confronted the pair with a vast 
 appearance of civility ; but under it a sneer was 
 just discernible. 
 
 The rivals measm-ed each other from Jiead to 
 foot, and then Neville inquired to what he owed 
 the honour of this visit. 
 
 Griffith replied: "He tells mo you told him
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 85 
 
 Miss Peyton lia«! excliaugecl horses with you." — 
 " Oh ! you indiscreet person," said George, shaking 
 his finger playfully at Clalton. — ''And, by the 
 same token, has plighted her troth to you." 
 
 " Worse and worse," said George. " Galton, 
 I'll never trust you with any secrets again. Be^ 
 sides, you exaggerate." 
 
 " Come, sir," said Griffith, sternly : " this- Ned 
 Galton was but your tool, and your mouth-piece ; 
 and therefore I bring him here to witness my 
 reply to i/ou : Mr. George Neville, you are a liar 
 and a scoundrel." 
 
 George Neville bounded to his feet like a tiger. 
 " I'll have your life for those two words," he cried. 
 
 Then he suddenly governed himself by a great 
 effort : " It is not for me to bandy foul terms witli 
 a Cumberland savage," said he. "Name your 
 .time and place." 
 
 " I will. Ned Galton, you may go, I wish to 
 say a few words in private to Mi-. Neville."
 
 86 GRIFFITH GAUNT, 
 
 Galton hesitated. ''No violence, gentlemen: 
 consider." 
 
 " Nonsense," said Neville. " Mr. Gaunt and I 
 are going to fight : we are not going to brawl. Be 
 so good as to leave us." 
 
 " Ay," said Griffith : " and, if you repeat a word 
 of all this, woe be to your skin." 
 
 As soon as he was gone, Griffith Gaunt turned 
 very grave and calm, and said to George Neville, 
 '^' The Cumberland savage has been better taught 
 than to expose the lady he loves to gossiping 
 
 tongues." 
 
 Neville coloured up to the eyes at this thrust. 
 
 Griffith continued, " The least you can do is to 
 avoid fresh scandal." 
 
 "I shall be happy to co-operate with you so 
 far," said Neville, stiffly. "1 undertake to keep 
 Galton silent : and for the rest, we have only to 
 name an early hour for meeting, and confide it to 
 but one discreet friend apiece who will attend us
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT, 87 
 
 to the field. TEen there will be no gossip, and no 
 bumpkins nor constables breaking in — such things 
 have happened in this county, I hear." 
 
 It was Wednesday. They settled to meet on 
 Friday at noon on a hillside between Bolton and 
 Neville's Court. The spot was exposed; but so 
 wild and unfrequented that no interruption was to 
 be feared. Mr. Neville being a practised swords- 
 man, Gaunt chose pistols ; a weapon at which the 
 combatants were supposed, to be pretty equal. To 
 this Neville very handsomely consented. 
 ' By this time a stiff and elaborate civiHty had 
 taken the place of then- heat, and at parting they 
 bowed both long and low to each other. 
 
 Griffith left the iini and went into tlie street. 
 And, as soon as he got there, he began to realize 
 what he had done, and that in a day or two he 
   might very probably be a dead man. The first 
 thing he did was to go with sorrowful face and 
 heavy step to Mr. Houseman's office.
 
 88 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 Mr. Houseman was a liiglily respectable solici- 
 tor. His late fotlier and lie had long enjoyed the 
 confidence of the gentry, and this enabled him to 
 avoid litigious business, and confine himself pretty 
 much to the more agreeable and lucrative occupa- 
 tion of drawing wills, settlements, and conve}'-- 
 ances; and effecting loans, sales, and transfers. 
 He visited the landed proprietors, and dined with 
 them, and was a gi-eat favourite in the county. 
 
 " Justicing day " brought liim many visits ; so 
 on that day he was always at his place of business. 
 Indeed a client was with him when Griffith called, 
 and the young gentleman had to wait in the outer 
 office for full ten minutes. 
 
 '" Then a door opened, and the client in question 
 came out, looking mortified and anxious. It was 
 Squire Peyton. At sight of Gaunt, who had risen 
 to take his vacant place, Kate's father gave him a 
 stiff nod, and an unfriendly glance, then hurried 
 away.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 89 
 
 Griffith was hurt at his manner. He knew very 
 
 well Mr. Peyton looked higher for Iiis daughter 
 
 han Griffith Gaunt: but for all that the old 
 
 gentleman had never shown him any personal 
 
 dislike or incivility until this moment. 
 
 So Griffith could not but fear that Neville was 
 somehow at the bottom of this, and that the com- 
 bination was very strong ^against him. Now in 
 thus interpreting Mr. Peyton's manner, he fell 
 into a very common error and fruitful cause of 
 misunderstanding. We go and fancy that Every- 
 body is thinking of us. But he is not : he is like 
 us ; he is thinking of himself. 
 ■- "Well, well," thought Griffith, "if I am not 
 to have her, what better place for me than the 
 grave : 
 
 He entered Mr. Houseman's private room and 
 •opened his business at once. 
 
 But a sinfTular concurrence of circumstances
 
 90 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 induced Lawyer Houseman to confide to a third 
 party the substance of what passed between this 
 young gentleman and himself. So, to avoid repe- 
 tition, the best way will be to let Houseman tell 
 this part of my tale instead of me: and I only 
 hope his communication, when it comes, may be 
 half as interesting to my reader as it was to his 
 hearer. 
 
   Suffice it for me to say that lawyer and client 
 were closeted a good hour; and were still con- 
 versing together, when a card was handed in to 
 Mr. Houseman that seemed to cause him both 
 surprise and pleasure. " In five minutes," said 
 he to the clerk. Griffith took the hint, and bade 
 him good-bye directly. 
 
 As he went out, the gentleman who had sent 
 in his card rose from a seat in the outer office 
 to go in. ' 
 
 It was Mr. George Neville. 
 
 Griffith Gaunt and he saluted and scanned each
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 91 
 
 other curiously^ They ' little thought to meet 
 again so soon. The clerks saw nothing more 
 than two polite gentlemen passing each other. 
 
 The more Griffith thought of the approacliing 
 duel the less he liked it. He was an impulsive 
 man for one thing ; and, with' such, a cold fit 
 naturally succeeds a hot one. And, besides, as his 
 heat abated, Keason and Reflection made them- 
 selves heard, and told him that in a contest with 
 a formidable rival he was thi'owing away an 
 advantage: after all, Kate had shown him great 
 favour ; she had ridden Neville's horse after him, 
 and made him resign his purpose of leaving her ; 
 surely then she preferred him on the whole to 
 Neville ; yet he must go and risk his chance of 
 possessing her — upon a personal encounter, in 
 which Neville was at least as likely to kill him, 
 as he to Idll Neville. He saw too late that he 
 was playing liis rival's game. He felt cold and
 
 92 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 despondent, and more and more convinced that lie 
 should never marry Kate, but that she Avould very 
 likely bury him. 
 
 With all this he M'as too game to recoil, 
 and indeed he hated his rival too deeply. So, 
 like many a man before him, he was going 
 doggedly to the field against his judgment, with 
 little to win and all to lose. 
 
 His deeper and more solemn anxieties were 
 diversified by a lighter one. A few days ago he 
 had invited half the county to bury Mr. Charlton, 
 on Saturday the nineteenth of February. But 
 now he had gone and fixed Friday the eighteentli 
 for a duel. A fine thing if he should be himself a 
 corpse on Friday ^afternoon. Who was to receive 
 the guests ? who conduct the funeral ? 
 
 The man, with all his faults, had a grateful 
 heart: and J\rr. Charlton was his benefactor, and 
 he felt he had no riglit to go and get himself killed 
 until he had paid the last rites to his best friend.
 
 GEIFFITH ."gaunt. 93 
 
 The difficulty admits of com-se of a comic view, 
 and smells Hibernian : but these things seem any- 
 thing but droll to those, Avhose lives and feelings 
 are at stake: and indeed there was something 
 chivalrous and touching in Griffith's vexation at 
 the possibility of his beneftictor being buried 
 without due honours, owing to his own intempe- 
 rate haste to be killed. He resolved to provide 
 against that contingency : so, on the Thursday, he 
 wrote an urgent letter to Mr. Houseman, telling 
 him he must come early to the funeral, and be 
 prepared to conduct it. 
 
 This letter was carried to Mr. Houseman's office 
 at three o'clock on Thursday afternoon. 
 
 Mr. Houseman was not at home. He Avas gone 
 to a country-house nine miles distant. But 
 Griffith's servant was well mounted, and had 
 peremptory orders: so he rode after Mr. House- 
 man, and found him at Mr. Peyton's house ; 
 whither, if you please, we too will follow him.
 
 94 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 In the first place you must know tliat tlie real 
 reason why Mr. Peyton looked so savage, coming 
 out of Mr. Houseman's office, was this: Neville 
 had said no more about the hundred pounds : and 
 indeed had not visited the house since ; so Peyton, 
 who had now begun to reckon on this sum, went 
 to Houseman to borrow it. But Houseman 
 politely declined to lend it him, and gave ex- 
 cellent reasons. All this was natm-al enough ; 
 common enough : but the real reason why House- 
 man declined, was a truly singular one. The fact is, 
 Catherine Peyton had made him promise to refuse. 
 
 Between that young lady and the Housemans, 
 husband and wife, there was a sincere friendship 
 founded on mutual esteem ; and Catherine could 
 do almost what she liked with either of them. 
 Now, whatever might be her faults, she was a 
 proud gu'l, and an intelhgent one : it mortified her 
 pride to see her father borrowing here, and borrow 
 ing there, and unable to repay : and she had also
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 95 
 
 observed that lieoilways celebrated a new loan by 
 a new extravagance, and so was never a penny 
 the richer for borrowed money. He had inad- 
 vertently let fall that he should apply to House- 
 man. She raised no open objection, but just 
 mounted Piebald, and rode off to Houseman, and 
 made him solemnly promise not to lend her 
 father a shilling.' 
 
 Houseman kept his word ; but his refusal cost 
 him more pain than he had counted on when 
 he made the promise. Squire Peyton had paid 
 him thousands first and last ; and, when he left 
 Houseman's room, with disappointment, mortifi- 
 cation, and humiliation, deeply marked on his 
 featiu:es, usually so handsome and jolly, the lawyer 
 felt sorry and ashamed — and did not show it. 
 
 But it rankled in him ; and the very next day 
 he took advantage of a little business he had to 
 do in Ml. Peyton's neighbourhood, and drove to 
 Peyton Hall and asked for Mistress Kate.
 
 9G GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 Ilis was a curious errand. ludeed I tliiuk it 
 would not be easy to find a parallel to it. 
 
 For here was an attorney calling upon a beau- 
 tiful girl ; to do A\'liat ? 
 
 To soften her. 
 
 On a daughter ; to do what ? 
 
 To persuade her to permit him to lend her 
 father £100 on insufficient security. 
 
 Well, he reminded her of his ancient obligations 
 to her family, and assured her he could well afford 
 to risk a hundred or even a thousand pounds. He 
 then told her that her father had shown great pain 
 at his refusal, and that he himself was human, and 
 could not divest himself of gratitude, and pity, and 
 good nature — all for £100. " In a word," said he, 
 " I have brought the money ; and you must give 
 in for this once, and let me lend it him without 
 more ado." 
 
 Miss Peyton was gratified, and affected ; and a 
 tear trembled a moment in her eye ; but went
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 97 
 
 indoors again, and left her firm as a rock, sprin- 
 kled with dew. She told him she could quite 
 understand his feeling, and thanked him for it : 
 but she had long and seriously weighed the matter, 
 and could not release him from his promise. " No 
 more of this base borrowing," said she, and 
 clenched her white teeth indomitably. 
 
 He attacked her with a good many weapons ; 
 but she parried them all so gently yet so nobly, 
 and so successfully, that he admired her more than 
 ever. 
 
 Still, lavv^yers fight hard ; and die very hard. 
 Houseman got warm in his cause, and cross- 
 examined this defendant ; and asked her whether 
 she would refuse to lend her father £100 out of a 
 full purse. 
 
 This question was answered only by a flash of 
 her glorious eyes, and a magnificent look of dis- 
 dain at the doubt implied. 
 
 " Well, then," said Houseman, " be your father's 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 GEIFFITII GAUNT. 
 
 sui-ety for repayment witli interest at six per 
 centum ; and then there will be nothing in the 
 business to wound your dignity. I have many 
 hundreds out at six per centum." 
 
 "Excuse me: that would be dishonest," said 
 Kate ; '' I have no money to repay you with." 
 
 " But you have expectations." 
 
 " Nay, not I." 
 
 " I beg your pardon." 
 • " Methinks I should know, su-. What expecta- 
 tions have I ? and from whom ?" 
 
 Houseman fidgeted on his seat ; and then with 
 some hesitation replied, " Well, from two that I 
 Imow of. 
 
 "You are jesting, methinks, good Mr. House' 
 man," said she, reproachfully. 
 
 " Nay, dear Mistress Kate, I wish you too well 
 to jest on such a theme." 
 
 The la\v}'er then fidgeted again on his seat in 
 silence, sign of an inward struggle ; during which
 
 GIUFFITH GAUNT. 99 
 
 Kate's 63^6 watched him "with some curiosity. At 
 last his wavering balance inclined towards revealing 
 something or other. 
 
 " Mistress Kate," said he, " my wife and I are 
 both your faithful friends, and humble admirers : 
 we often say you would grace a coronet : and wish 
 you were as rich as you are good and beautiful." 
 
 Kate turned her lovely head away, and gave 
 him her hand. That incongruous movement, so 
 full of womanly grace and feeling, and the soft 
 pressure of her white hand, completed her victory, 
 and the remains of Houseman's reserve melted 
 away. 
 
 " Yes, my dear young lady," said he, warmly, 
 " I have good news for you : only, mind, not a 
 living soul must ever know it from your lips. 
 Why, I am going to do for you what I never did 
 m my life before ; going to tell you something 
 that passed yesterday in my office. But then I 
 know yoiT : you arc a young lady out of a 
 
 n 2
 
 100 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 thousand: I can trust you to be discreet, and 
 silent ; can I not ?" 
 
 " As tlie grave." 
 
 " Well, then, my young mistress — in truth, it 
 was like a play, though the scene was but a 
 lawyer's office " 
 
 " Was it ?" cried Kate. " Then you set me all 
 of a flutter : you must sup here, and sleep here. 
 Nay, nay," said she, her eyes sparkling with 
 animation, "I'll take no denial. My father dines 
 abroad : we shall have the house to ourselves." 
 
 Her interest was keenly excited : but she was a 
 true woman, and must coquet with her very 
 curiosity ; so she ran off to see with her own eyes 
 that sheets were aired, and a roasting fire lighted 
 in the blue bedroom for her guest. 
 
 While she vras away, a servant brought in 
 Griffith G aunt's letter, and a sheet of paper had 
 to be borrowed to answer it. 
 
 The answer was hardly written and sent out
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 101 
 
 to Griffith's servant, when supper and the fair 
 hostess came in almost together. 
 
 After supper fresh logs were heaped on the fire, 
 and the lawyer sat in a cosy arm-chair, and took 
 out his diary, and several papers, as methodically 
 as if he was going to lay the case by counsel before 
 a judge of assize. 
 
 " Kate sat opposite him with her grey eyes beam- 
 ing on him all the time, and searching for the 
 hidden meaning of everything he told her. During 
 the recital which follows, her colour often came 
 and went, but those wonderful eyes never left tho 
 narrator's face a moment. 
 
 " They put the attorney on his mottle, and he 
 elaborated the matter more than I should have 
 done : he articulated his topics ; marked each 
 salient fact by a long pause. In short ho told his 
 story like an attorney, and not like a Eomancist. 
 I cannot help that, you know ; I'm not Pro- 
 crustes.
 
 102 gtiiffith gaunt. 
 
 Mr, Houseman's little Narrative. 
 
 " Wednesday, the seventeenth day of February, 
 at about one of the clock, called on me at my 
 place of business Mr. Griffith Gaunt, whom I need 
 not hero describe, inasmuch as his person and 
 place of residence are well known to the court — 
 what am I saying ? — I mean, well known to your- 
 self, Mistress Kate, 
 
 " The said Griffith, on entering my room seemed 
 moved, and I might say, distempered ; and did 
 not give himself time to salute me and receive my 
 obeisance, but addressed me abruptly and said as 
 follows : ' Mr. Houseman, I am come to make my 
 will.' " 
 
 " Dear me !" said Kate : then blushed, and was 
 more on her guard. 
 
 "I seated the young gentleman, and then
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 103 
 
 replied that his -resohition aforesaid did him credit, 
 the young being as mortal as the old. I said 
 further that many disasters had happened, in my 
 experience, owing to the obstinacy with which men 
 in the days of their strength shut their eyes to the 
 precarious tenure, under which all sons of Adam 
 hold existence ; and so many a worthy gentleman 
 dies in his sins. And, what is worse, dies intes- 
 tate. 
 
 " But the said Griffith interrupted mo with 
 some signs of impatience, and asked me bluntly 
 would I draw his will, and have it executed on 
 the spot. 
 
 " I assented, generally ; but I requested him by 
 
 way of needful preliminary, to obtain for mo a 
 
 • copy of Mr. Charlton's will, under which, as I 
 
 have always understood, the said Griflith inherits 
 
 whatever real estate he hath to bequeath.
 
 104 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 "]\Ir. Griffith rxaiint then replied to rae that 
 Mr. Charlton's will was in London, and the exact 
 terms of it could not be known until after the 
 funeral : that is to say upon the nineteenth instant. 
 
 ' " Thereupon I explained to Mr. Gaunt that I 
 must see and know Avhat properties were devised 
 in the will aforesaid, by the said Charlton, to 
 Gaunt aforesaid, and how devised and described. 
 Without this, I said, I could not correctly and 
 sufficiently describe the same in the instrument 
 I was now requested to prepare. 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt did not directly reply to this 
 objection. But he pondered a little while, and 
 then asked me if it were not possible for him, by 
 means of general terms, to bequeath to a sole 
 legatee whatever lands, goods, chattels, etc., 
 Mr. Charlton might hereafter prove to have 
 devised to him, the ?aid Griffith Gaunt.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 105 
 
 " I aclmittod 'this \vas possible, but objected 
 that it was dangerous. I let him know that in 
 matters of law general terms are a fruitful 
 source of dispute, and I said I was one of those 
 who hold it a duty to avert litigation from our 
 clients. 
 
 " Thereupon Mr. Gaunt drew out of his bosom a 
 pocket-book. 
 
 " The said pocket-book was shown to me by the 
 said Gaunt, and I say it contained a paragraph 
 from a newspaper, which I believe to have been 
 cut out of the said newspaper with a knife or a 
 pair of scissors, or some trenchant instrument ; 
 and tlie said paragraph purported to contain an 
 exact copy of a certain Will and Testament under 
 which (as is indeed matter of public notoriety) one 
 Dame Butcher hath inherited and now enjoys the 
 lands, goods, and chattels of a certain merry parson
 
 106 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 late deceased in these parts ; and, / believe, little 
 missed. 
 
 " Mr, Gaunt would have me read the Will and 
 Testament aforesaid : and I read it accordingly ; 
 and, inasmuch as bad things are best remembered, 
 the said Will and Testament did, by its singu- 
 larity and profaneness, fix itself forthwith in my 
 memory ; so that I can by no means dislodge it 
 thence, do what I may. 
 
 ; "The said Document, to the best of my 
 memory and belief, runneth after this fashion : 
 ' I, John llaymond, clerk, at present residing 
 at Whitbeck, in the county of Cumberland, 
 being a man sound in body, mind, and judg- 
 ment, do deliver this as my last Will and Tes- 
 tament. 
 
 '•' ' I give and bequeath all my real property, 
 and all my personal property, and all the property 
 whether real or personal I may hereafter possess,
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 107 
 
 01* become entitled to — to my Housekeeper, Janet 
 Butcher. 
 
 "'And I appoint Janet Butcher my sole 
 executrix, and I make Janet Butcher my sole 
 residuary legatee, save and except that I leave my 
 solemn curse to any knave, who hereafter shall at 
 any time pretend that he does not understand the 
 meaning of tliis my Will and Testament.' " 
 
 (Catherine smiled a little at this last bequest.) 
 
 " Mr. Gaunt then solemnly appealed to mo as 
 an honest man to tell him whether the aforesaid 
 document was bad, or good, in law. 
 
 " I was fain to admit that it was sufficient in 
 law ; but I qualified, and said I thought it might 
 be attacked on the score of the Hussy's undue 
 influence, and tlio Testator's apparent insanity. 
 Nevertheless, I concluded candidly, tliat neither 
 objection would [)rovail in our courts, owing to the
 
 108 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 sturdy prejudice in tlie breasts of English jury- 
 men, whose ground of foith it is that every man 
 1ms a right to do what he will with his own, and 
 even to do it how he likes. 
 
 '*Mr. Gaunt did speedily abuse this my can- 
 dour. He urged me to lose no time, but to draw 
 his will according to the form and precedent in 
 that case made and provided by this mad parson : 
 and my clerks forsooth were to be the witnesses 
 thereof. 
 
 " I refused, with some heat, to sully my office 
 by allowing such an instrument to issue therefrom : 
 and I asked the said Gaunt, in higli dudgeon, for 
 what he took me. 
 
 " Mr. Gaunt then offered, in reply, two sugges- 
 tions that shook me. Imprimis, he told me the 
 person to whom he now desired to leave his all
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 109 
 
 was Mistress Catherine Peyton. [An ejaculation 
 from Kate.] Secuudo, lie said he would go 
 straight from me to that coxcomb Harrison, were 
 I to refuse to seiTe him in the matter. 
 
 "On this, having regard to your interest and 
 my own, I temporized ; I offered to let him draw 
 a will after his parson's precedent, and I agreed it 
 should be witnessed in my office : only I stipulated 
 that next week a proper document should be 
 drawn by myself, with due particulars, on two 
 sheets of paper, and afterwards engrossed and 
 witnessed: and to this Mr. Gaunt assented, and 
 immediately drew his Will according to News- 
 paper Precedent. 
 
 "But, when I came to examine his masterpiece^ 
 I found he had taken advantage of my pliability 
 to attach an unreasonable condition : to wit, that 
 the said Catherine should forfeit all interest under
 
 110 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 tliis will ill case slie should ever many a certain 
 party tlierein nominated, specified, and described." 
 (" Now tliat was Griffitli all over," cried Catlic- 
 rine, merrily.) 
 
 " I objected stoutly to tliis. I took leave to 
 remind tlie young gentleman that, when a Chris- 
 tian man makes his last will and testament, he 
 should think of the grave, and of the place beyond 
 whither we may carry our affections, but must 
 leave the bundle of our hates behind, the gate 
 being narrow. I even went so far as to doubt 
 whether such a proviso could stand in laiv ; and I 
 also put a practical query: what was to hinder 
 the legatee from selling the property and divert- 
 ing the funds, and then marrying whom'Jshe 
 liked ? 
 
 "Mr. Gaunt was deaf to reason. ' He bade me 
 remember that he was neither Saint nor Apostle,
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. Ill 
 
 but a poor gentleman of Cumberland, who saw a 
 strauo-er come between him and his lover dear : 
 with that he was much moved, and did not con- 
 clude his argument at all, but broke off and was 
 fain to hide his face with both hands awhile. In 
 truth this touched me ; and I looked another way ; 
 and began to ask myself why should I interfere, 
 who, after all, know not yoiu* heart in the matter : 
 and, to be brief, I withstood him and Parson's law 
 no more ; but sent his draft will to the clerks, the 
 which they copied fair in a trice, and the dupli- 
 cates were signed and witnessed in red hot haste ; 
 as most of men's follies are done for that matter. 
 
 " The paper writing now produced and sliowii 
 to me — tush ! what am I saying ? — I mean the 
 paper writing I now produce and show to you is 
 the draft of the will aforesaid, in the handwriting 
 of the testator." 
 
 And with this he handed Kate Pcyton_tTriffith
 
 112 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 Gauut's Will, and took a long and satirical pinch 
 of snuff while she examined it. 
 
 Miss Peyton took the will in her white hands 
 and read it. But, in reading it she held it up, 
 and turned it so, that her friend could not see her 
 face while she read it, but only her white hands, 
 in which the document rustled a little. 
 : It ran thus : — 
 
 " I, Griffith Gaunt, late of the Eyrie, and now 
 residing at Bolton Hall, in the county of Cumber- 
 land, being sound in body and mind, do deliver 
 this as my last Will and Testament. I give and 
 bequeath all the property real or personal, which 
 I now possess or may hereafter become entitled to, 
 to my dear friend and mistress, Catherine Peyton, 
 daughter of Edward Peyton, Esquire, of Peyton 
 Hall ; provided always that the said Catherine 
 Peyton shall at no time within the next ten years 
 marry George Neville, of Neville's Court, in this 
 county. But should the said Catherine marry the
 
 GRIFFITH gau:;t. 113 
 
 Sfiid George witkin ten years of tliis day, tlieu I 
 leave all my said property, in possession, re- 
 mainder, or reversion, to my Heir-at-law." 
 
 The fair legatee read this extraordinary testa- 
 ment more than once. At last she handed it back 
 to Mr. Houseman without a word. But her cheek 
 was red, and her eyes glistening. 
 
 Mr. Houseman was surprised at her silence, and 
 as he was curious to know her heart, ho sounded 
 her : asked her what she tliought of that part of 
 his story. But she evaded him with all the tact 
 of her sex. " What, that is not all then ?"' said 
 she quickly. 
 
 Houseman replied that it was barely half. 
 
 " Then tell me all, pray tell me all," said Kate, 
 earnestly. 
 
 " I am here to that end," said Houseman, and 
 recommenced his narrative. 
 
 " The business being tlone to Mr. Gaunt's satis- 
 faction, though not to mine, we fell into some 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 Ill GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 friendly talk; but in the midst of it my clerk 
 Thomas brought mo in the card of a gentleman 
 whom I was very desirous to secure as a client. 
 
 " Mr. Gaunt I think read my mind, for he took 
 leave of me forthwith. I attended him to the 
 door, and then welcomed the gentleman aforesaid, 
 it was no other than Mr. George Neville. 
 
 " Mr. Neville, after such gracious civilities as 
 his native breeding and foreign travel have taught 
 him, came to business and requested me — to draw 
 his will." 
 
 "La!" said Kate. 
 
 " I was a little startled, but hid it, and took his 
 instructions. This done, I requested to see the 
 title-deeds of his estates, with a view to describing 
 them, and he went himself to the banker's for 
 them, and placed them in my hands.
 
 GRIFFIT^I GAUNT, 115 
 
 " I then profiiisecl to' have the will ready in a 
 week or ten days. But Mr. Neville, with many 
 polite regi-ets for hurrying me, told me upon his 
 honour he could give me but twenty-four hours. 
 ' After that,' said he, ' it might be too late.' " 
 
 (« Ah !" said Miss Pej^on.) 
 
 " Determined to retain my new client, I set my 
 clerks to work, and this very day was engrossed, 
 signed, and witnessed, the last will and testament 
 of George Neville, Esquire, of Neville's Court, in 
 tho county of Cumberland, and Leicestei Square, 
 London, where he hath a noble mansion. 
 
 " Now as to the general disposition of his lands, 
 manorial rights, messuages, tenements, goods, 
 chattels, etc., and his special legacies to divers 
 ladies and gentlemen and domestic servants, these 
 I will not reveal even to yon. 
 
 I 2
 
 116 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 «T 
 
 The paper I now produce is a copy of that 
 particular bequest which I have decided to 
 communicate to you in strict and sacred con- 
 fidence." 
 
 And he handed her an extract from George 
 Neville's will. 
 
 Miss Peyton then read what follows : — 
 " And I giwe and bequeath to Mistress Catherine 
 Peyton of Peyton Hall in the said county of Cum- 
 berland in token of my respect and regard all that 
 my freehold estate called Moulton Grange with the 
 messuage or tenement standing and being thereon 
 and the farm-yard buildings and appurtenances 
 belonging thereto containing by estimation three 
 hundred and seventy-six acres three roods and 
 five perches be the same little more or less to 
 hold to her the said Catherine Peyton her heirs 
 and assigns for ever." 
 
 The legatee laid down the paper, and leaned
 
 GllIFFITII GAUNT. 117 
 
 hor liead softly on her fair baud, and her eyes 
 explored vacancy. 
 
 " What means all this ?" said she, aloud, but to 
 
 herself. 
 
 Mr. Houseman undertook the office of in- 
 terpreter. "Means? why that he has left you 
 one of the snuggest estates in the county. 
 'Tis not quite so large as Bolton; but lies 
 sunnier, and the land richer. Well, mistress, 
 was I right, are you not good for a thousand 
 pounds ?" -^ 
 
 Kate, still manifestly thinking of something 
 else, let fall, as it were, out of her mouth that 
 Mv. Gaunt and Mr. Neville were both men in the 
 flower of their youth, and how was she the richer 
 for their folly ? 
 
 -• " Why," said Houseman, '' you will not have to 
 wait for the death of these testators — Heaven 
 forbid! — But what docs all this making of wills 
 show mo? That both these gentlemen are deep
 
 lis GKIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 iu love with you, and you cau pick and choose : 
 I say you can wed with Bolton Hall or Neville's 
 Court to-morrow: so prithee let the Squne have 
 his hundred pounds, and do you repay me at your 
 leisure." 
 
 Miss Peyton made no reply, but leaned her 
 exquisite head upon her hand and pondered. 
 . She did not knit her brows, nor labour visibly 
 at the mental oar : yet a certain reposeful gravity 
 and a fixity of the thoughtful eye showed she was 
 applying all the power's of her mind. 
 
 Mr. Houseman was not surprised at that: his 
 own wife had but little intellect ; yet had he seen 
 her weigh two rival bonnets in mortal silence, and 
 with all the seeming profundity of a judge on the 
 bench. And now this young lady was doubtless 
 weighing Farms with similar gravity, care, and 
 intelligence. 
 
 • But as this continued and still she did not com- 
 municate her decision, he asked her point-blank
 
 GIUFFITH GAUNT. 119 
 
 which of the tjvo she settled to vred : Neville's 
 Court, or Bolton Grange. 
 
 Thus appealed to, Miss Peyton tui'ned her 
 great eye on him without really looking at 
 him, and replied, — " You have made me very 
 uneasy." 
 
 He stared. She relapsed into thought a moment, 
 and then, turning to Houseman, ashed liim lio>v lie 
 accounted for those two gentlemen making their 
 wills ; they were very young to make their ■s; ills 
 all of a sudden. 
 
 "Why," said Houseman, "P-Ir. Neville is a 
 man of sense, and every man of sense makes 
 his will ; and, as for Mr. Gaunt, he has just come 
 into prospect of an estate ; that's v/hy." 
 
 " Ah, but why could not Grihith wait till after 
 the funeral ?" 
 
 " Oh, clients are always iu a hurry." 
 
 "So you see nothing iu it? nothing alarming 
 1 mean ?"
 
 120 GUIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 "Nothing very ulanuing. Two liuided pro- 
 prietors ill love with you ; that is all." 
 
 " But, dear Mr. Houseman, that is what makes 
 me uneasy: at this rate they must look on one 
 another as — as — rivals: and you know rivals are 
 sometimes enemies." 
 
 " Oh I see now," said Houseman : '* you appre- 
 hend a quarrel between the gentlemen. Of course 
 there is no love lost between them ; but they met 
 in my office and saluted each other with perfect 
 civility. I saw them with my own eyes." 
 
 " Indeed I I am glad to hear that ; very glad. 
 I hope it was only a coincidence then, their both 
 making their wills." 
 
 " Nothing more you may depend : neither of 
 them knows from me what the other has done ; 
 nor ever will." 
 
 " That is true," said Kate, and seemed con- 
 siderably relieved. 
 
 To ease her mind entirelv, Houseman went on
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 121 
 
 to say that as ta the report that high words had 
 passed between the clients in question, at the 
 Eoebiick, he had no doubt it was exaggerated. 
 " Besides," said he, " that was not about a lady ; 
 I'm told it was about a horse. Some bet belike." 
 
 Catherine uttered a faint cry. *' About a 
 horse !" said she. " Not about a grey horse ?" 
 
 " Nay, that is more than I know." 
 
 "High words about a horse,^' said Catherine; 
 " and they are making their wills. Oh ! my 
 mind misgave me from the first." iVnd she 
 turned pale. Presently she clasped her hands 
 together — " Mr. Houseman !" she cried, " what 
 shall I do? What, do you not see that both 
 their lives are in danger? and that is why they 
 make their wills. And how should both their lives 
 bo in danger, but from each other ? Madmen ! 
 they have quarrelled : they are going to light ; 
 light to the death : and I fear it is about me. 
 Me who love neither of them, you know."
 
 122 GEIFFITII GAUNT. 
 
 "In that case, let them fight," said her legal 
 adviser, dispassionately. "Whichever fool gets 
 killed, you will be none the poorer." And the 
 dog wore a sober complacency. 
 
 Catherine turned her large eyes on him with 
 horror and amazement, but said nothing. 
 
 As for the lawyer he was more struck with her 
 sagacity than with anything. He somewhat over- 
 rated it ; not being avv'are of the private reasons 
 she had for suspectmg that her two testators were 
 enemies to the death. 
 
 "I almost tliink you are right," said he; 
 " for I a'ot a curious missive from Mr. Gaunt 
 scarce an hour agone, and he says, — let me see 
 what he says. " Nay, let me see," said Kate. 
 On that he handed her Griffith's note. It- ran 
 thus — 
 
 " It is possible I may not be able to conduct the 
 funeral. Should this be so, I appoint you to act
 
 GRIFFITH GAUi^T. 123 
 
 for me. So then, good Mr. Houseman, let me 
 count on you to be here at nine of the clock. For 
 Heaven's sake fail mo not. 
 
 " Your humble Servant, 
 
 "G. G." 
 
 This left no doubt in Kate's mind. 
 
 " Now, first of all," said she, " what answer 
 made vou to this ?" 
 
 " What answer should I make ? I pledged my 
 word to be at Bolton at nine of the clock." 
 
 "Oh, blind!" sighed Kate. "And I must be 
 out of the room. What shall I do? My dear 
 friend, forgive me : I am a Avretched girl. I am 
 to blame; I ought to have dismissed them both, 
 or else decided between them. But who would 
 have thought it would go this length ? I did not 
 think Griffith was brave enough. Have pity on 
 me, and help me. Stop this fearful lighting." 
 And now the young creature clung to the man of
 
 124 GKIFFITII GAUNT. 
 
 business, and prayed and prayed liim earnestly t6 
 avert bloodshed. 
 
 Mr. Houseman was staggered by this passionate 
 ajjpeal from one Avho so rarely lost her self-com- 
 mand. He soothed her as well as he could, and 
 said he would do his best ; but added, which was 
 very true, that he thought her interference would 
 be more effective than his own. " What care 
 these young bloods for an old attorney ? I should 
 fare ill, came I between their rapiers. To be sure 
 I might bind them over to keep the peace. But 
 Mistress Kate, now be frank with me ; then I can 
 serve you better. You love one of these two ; 
 that is clear. AVhich is the man ? that I may 
 know wliat I am about." 
 
 For all her agitation Kate was on her guard in 
 some things. 
 
 " Nay," she fliltcred, " I love neitlicr, not to say 
 love them : but I pity him so." 
 
 "Which?"
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 123 
 
 '' Both." 
 
 " Ay, mistress ; but which do you pity most ?" 
 caskecl the shrewd lawyer. 
 
 " Whichever shall come to harm for my sake," 
 replied the simple girl. 
 
 " You could not go to them to-night, and bring 
 them to reason ?" asked she, piteously. She went 
 to the window to see what sort of a night it was ; 
 she drew the heavy crimson curtains and opened 
 the window. In rushed a bitter blast laden ^^•ith 
 flying snow. The window ledges too were clogged 
 with snow, and all the ground was white. 
 
 Houseman shuddered, and drew nearer to the 
 blazing logs. Kate closed the window with a 
 groan. " It is not to be thought of," said she ; 
 " at your age ; and not a road to be seen for snow. 
 What shall I do?" 
 
 • "AVait till to-morrow," said Mr. Plouseman. 
 (Procrastination was his daily work, being an 
 attorney.) " To-morrow !" cried Catherine. Per-
 
 120 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 liaps even now they have met, and lie lies a 
 corpse." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Whichever it is, I shall end my days in a 
 convent praying for his soul." She wrung her 
 hands while she said this, and still there was no 
 catching her. 
 
 Little did the lawyer think to rouse such a 
 storm with his good news. And now^ he made 
 a feeble and vain attempt to soothe her ; and 
 ended by promising to start the first thuig in the 
 naorning and get both her testators bound over to 
 keep the peace, by noon. With this resolution he 
 went to bed early. 
 
 She was glad to be alone at all events. 
 
 Now, mind you, there were plenty of vain and 
 vulgar, yet respectable girls, in Cumberland, who 
 would have been delighted to be fought about, 
 even though bloodshed were to bo the result. 
 But this young lady Avas not vain, but proud;
 
 QEIFFITH GAUNT. 127 
 
 slie was sensitive too, and troubled with a con- 
 science. It reproached her bitterly : it told her 
 she had permitted the addresses of tv/o gentle- 
 men, and so mischief had somehow arisen — out 
 of her levity. Now her life had been uneventful, 
 and innocent : this was the very first time she had 
 been connected with anything like a crime ; and 
 her remorse was great : so was her grief ; but her 
 fears were greater still. The terrible look Griffith 
 had cast at his rival flashed back on her ; so did 
 his sinister words. She felt that if he and 
 Neville met, nothing less than Neville's death 
 or his own would separate them. Suppose 
 that even now one of them lay a corpse! cold 
 and ghastly as the snow that now covered Nature's 
 face. 
 
 The agitation of her mind was such, that her 
 body could not be still : now she walked the room 
 in violent distress, wringing her hands ; now she 
 kneeled and prayed fervently for both those lives
 
 ]28 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 sho had endangered : often she flew to the window 
 and looked eagerly out, writhing and rebelling 
 against the network of female custom that en- 
 tangled her, and would not let her fly out of her 
 cage even to do a good action ; to avert a cata- 
 strophe by her prayers, or her tears, or her good 
 sense. 
 
 And all ended in her realizing that she was a 
 woman, a poor impotent being born to lie quiet 
 and let things go : at that she wept helplessly. 
 
 So wore away the first night of agony this 
 young creature ever knew. 
 
 Towards moi-ning, exhausted by her inward 
 struggles, she fell asleep upon a sofa. 
 
 But her trouble followed her. She dreamed 
 she was on a horse, Inn-ricd along with prodigious 
 rapidity, in a darkened atmosphere, a sort of dry 
 fog : she knew somehow she was being taken to 
 see some a\^'ful, mysterious thing. By-and-by the 
 haze cleared, and she came out upon pleasant open
 
 GllIFFITH GAUNT. 129 
 
 sunny fields that almost dazzled her. She passed 
 gates, and hedges too, all clear, distinct, and indi- 
 vidual. Presently a voice by her side said " This 
 way !" and her horse seemed to turn of his o\vu 
 accord through a gap, and in one moment she came 
 on a group of gentlemen. It was Griffith Gaunt, 
 and two strangers. Then she spoke, and said, 
 
 " But, Mr. Neville ?' 
 
 No answer was made her ; but the group opened 
 in solemn silence, and there lay George Neville 
 ■on the snow, stark and stiff, with blood issuin<?- 
 from his temple, and trickling along the snow. 
 
 She saw distinctly all his well-known features ; 
 but they were pinched and sharpened now. And 
 his dark olive skin was turned to bluish white. It 
 was his corpse. And now her horse thrust out his 
 nose and snorted like a demon. She looked down, 
 and ah ! the blood was running at her preterna- 
 turally fast along the snow. She screamed, her 
 liorse reared high, and she was falling on the 
 
 VOL. T. K
 
 130 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 blood-stained snow : she awoke screaming ; and 
 the Eunliglit seemed to rush in at the window. 
 
 Her joy that it was only a dream overpowered 
 every other feeling at first. She kneeled and 
 thanked God for that. 
 
 The next thing was, she thought it might be a 
 revelation of what had actually occurred. 
 
 But this chilling' fear did not affect her long. 
 Nothinor could shake her conviction that a duel 
 was on foot — and indeed the intelligent of her sex 
 do sometimes put this and that together, and spring- 
 to a just but obvious inference, in a way that looks 
 • to a slower and safer reasoner like divination — 
 but then she knew that yesterday evening both 
 parties were alive. Coupling this with Griffith's 
 broad hint that after the funeral might be too late 
 to make liis will, she felt sure that it was this very 
 day the combatants were to meet. Yes, and this 
 very morning : for she knew that gentlemen 
 always fought in the morning.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 131 
 
 If her dreain was false as to the past, it might 
 be true as to wliat was at hand. Was it not a 
 supernatural warning sent to her in mercy ? The 
 history of her church abounded in such dreams 
 and visions; and indeed the time and place she 
 lived in were rife with stories of the kind ; one, in 
 particular, of recent date. 
 
 This thought took hold of her, and grew on her, 
 till it overpowered even the diffidence of her sex ; 
 and then up started her individual character ; and 
 now nothing could hold her. For, languid and 
 dreamy in the common things of life, this Cathe- 
 rine Peyton was one of those who rise into rare 
 ardour and activity in such great crises as seem 
 to benumb the habitually brisk, and they turn 
 tame and passive. 
 
 She had seen at a glance that Houseman was 
 too slow and apathetic for such an emergency; 
 she resolved to act herself. She waslied her face 
 and neck and arms and hands in cold water, and 
 
 K 2
 
 1S2 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 was refreshed and inYigorated. She put on her 
 riding habit and her little gold spur; Griffith 
 Gaunt had given it her ; and hurried into the 
 etable-yard. 
 
 Old Joe and his boy had gone away to break- 
 fast : he lived in the villasre. 
 
 This was unlucky : Catherine must wait his 
 ax3turn and lose time, or else saddle the horse 
 Jierself. She chose the latter. The piebald was 
 a good horse, but a fidgety one ; so she saddled 
 and bridled him at his stall. She then led him 
 out to the stone steps in the stable-yard, and tried 
 to mount him. But he sidled away ; she had 
 nobody to square him ; and she could get nothing 
 to mount but his head. She coaxed him, she 
 tickled ]iim on the otlier side with her whip. It 
 was all in vain. 
 
 It was absurd, but heart-sickening. She stared 
 at him with wonder that he could be so cruel as 
 to play the fool when every minute might be life
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 133 
 
 or death. Sli6 spoke to liim, she implored him 
 piteously ; slie patted him. All was iu vain. 
 
 As a last resource she walked him back to the 
 stable and 2:ave him a sieveful of oats, and set it 
 down by the corn bin for him, and took an oj^por- 
 tunity to mount the bin softly. 
 
 He ate the oats, but with retroverted eye Avatched' 
 her. She kept quiet and affected nonchalance till 
 he became less cautious : then suddenly sprang ori: 
 him, and taught him to set his wit against a- 
 woman's. My lord ^Yheeled round directly ere she 
 could get her leg over the pommel ; and made for 
 the stable door. She lowered her head to his- - 
 mane and just scraped out without injury ; not an 
 inch to spare. He set off at once ; but luckily 
 for her she had often ridden a bare-backed horse. 
 She sat him for the first few yards by balance ; 
 then reined him in quietly, and soon whipped her 
 left foot into the stirrup and her riglit leg over the; 
 pommel ; and then the piebald nag had to pay for
 
 13-i GRIFFITH GAUNT. ' 
 
 Lis pranks: tlie roads were clogged with snow, 
 but she fanned him along without mercy, and 
 never drew bridle till she pulled him up drenched, 
 and steaming like a wash-tub, at iNetley cross- 
 roads. 
 
 Here she halted irresolute : the road to the 
 rioht led to Bolton, distant two miles and a half. 
 The road in front led to Neville's Court, distant 
 three miles. Which should she take ? She had 
 asked herself this a dozen times upon the road ; 
 yet could never decide until she got to the place, 
 and mvMt The question was, with which of them 
 had she most influence ? She hardly knew ; but 
 Griffith Gaunt was her old sweetheart ; it seemed 
 somewhat less strange and indelicate to go to him 
 than to the new one : so she turned her horse's 
 head towards Bolton; but she no longer went 
 quite so fast as she had gone before she felt going 
 to either in particular. Such is the female mind. 
 
 She reached Bolton at half-past eleven; and
 
 GRIFFITH GAUXT. 135 
 
 now she was tlTere, put a bold face ou it ; rode up 
 to the door, and, leauiug forward on her horse, 
 rang the hall bell. 
 
 A footman came to the door. 
 
 With composed visage though beating heart, she 
 told him she desu-ed to 3peak for a moment to Mr. 
 Griffith Gaunt. He asked her would she be pleased 
 to alight: and it was clear by his manner no 
 calamity had yet fallen. "No, no," said Kate, 
 ^' let me speak to him here." 
 
 The servant went in to tell his master. Kate 
 sat quiet with her heart still beating, but glowing 
 now with joy : she was in time then, thanks to 
 her good horse. She patted him, and made the 
 prettiest excuses aloud to him for riding him so 
 hard throu2;h the snow. 
 
 The footman came back to say that Mr. Gaunt 
 liad gone out. 
 
 " Gone out ? Whither ? On horseback ?" 
 
 The footman did not know, but would ask within.
 
 136 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 Wliile he was gone to inquire, Catherine lost 
 patience, and rode into the stable-yard, and asked 
 a young lout who was lounging there whether his 
 master was gone out on horseback. 
 
 The lounging youth took the trouble to call out 
 the groom, and asked him. 
 
 The groom said " No," and that Mr. Gaunt was 
 somewhere about the grounds he thought. 
 
 But in the midst of this colloquy one of the maids, 
 curious to see the lady, came out by the kitchen 
 door and cm-tsied to Kate, and told her Mr. Gaunt 
 was gone out walking with two other gentlemen. 
 In the midst of her discourse she recognized the 
 visitor, and having somehow imbibed the notion 
 that Miss Peyton was likely to be Mrs. Gaunt, 
 and govern Bolton Hall, decided to curry favour 
 with her ; so she called her my lady, and was very 
 communicative. She said one of the gentlemen 
 was strange to her ; but the other was Doctor 
 Islip from Stanhope town. She knew him well :
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 137 
 
 he bad taken off lier own brotliei-'s leg in a jiffey. 
 " But, dear heart, Mistress," said she, " hoAv pale 
 you be. Do come in and have a morsel of meat, 
 and a horn of ale." 
 
 " Nay, my good ghl," said Kate ; " I could not 
 eat ; but bring me a mug of new milk if you will. 
 I have not broken my fast this day." 
 
 The maid bustled in, and Catherine asked the 
 groom if there were no means of knowing where 
 Mr. Gaunt was. The groom and the boy scratched 
 theu' heads and looked puzzled. The lounging lout 
 looked at their perplexity, and grinned satirically. 
 
 This youth was Tom Leicester, born in wedlock, 
 and therefore in the law's eye son of old Simon 
 Leicester ; but gossips said his true father was the 
 late Captain Gaunt. Tom ran with the hounds 
 for his own sport : went out shooting with gentle- 
 men and belaboured the briars for them at two- 
 pence per day and his dinner, and abhorred all 
 that sober men call work.
 
 138 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 By trade, a Beater : profession, a Scamp. 
 
 Two maids came out together now ; one with 
 the milk and a roll, the other wdth a letter. 
 Catherine drank the milk but could not eat. 
 Then says the other maid, "If so be you are 
 Mistress Peyton, why this letter is for you : Master 
 left it on his table in his bedroom." 
 
 Kate took the letter and opened it, all in a 
 flutter. It ran thus : — 
 
 " Sweet Misteess, — When this reaches you, I 
 shall be no more here to trouble you with my jea- 
 lousy. This NeviUe set it abroad that you had 
 changed horses with him, as much as to say you had 
 plighted troth with liim. He is a liar, and I told 
 him so to his teeth. We are to meet at noon this 
 day : and one must die. Methinks I shall be the 
 one. But, come what may, I have taken care of 
 thee; ask Jack Houseman else. But, oh dear 
 Kate, think of all that hath passed between us,
 
 GKIFFITH GAUJST. 139 
 
 and do not wed this Neville, or I could not rest in 
 my grave. Sweetheart, many a letter have I 
 written thee, but none so sad as this. Let the 
 grave hide my faults from thy memory ; think 
 only that I loved thee well. I leave thee my 
 substance ; would it were ten times more ; and 
 the last thought of my heart. 
 " So no more in this world, 
 
 " From him that is thy true lover 
 " And humble servant till death, 
 
 " Gkiffith Gaunt." 
 
 There seems to be room in the mind for only 
 one violent emotion at one instant of time. This 
 touching letter did not just then draw a tear from 
 her who now received it some hours sooner than 
 the writer intended. Its first effect was to paralyze 
 . lier. She sat white and trembling, and her great eyes 
 filled with horror. Then she began to scream wildly 
 for help. The men and women came round her.
 
 140 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 "Murder! Murder !" she slirieked. " Tell my 
 where to find him, ye ^Yretches, or may his blood 
 be on yom' heads !" 
 
 The scamp bounded from his lounging posi- 
 tion and stood before her straight as an arrow. 
 '•' Follow me," he shouted. Her grey eyes and 
 the scamp's black ones, flashed into one another 
 directly. He dashed out of the yard ^Yithout 
 another word. 
 
 And she spurred her horse, and clattered out 
 after him. 
 
 He ran as fast as her horse could canter, and 
 soon took her all round the house : and, while he 
 ran, his black, gipsy eyes were glancing in every 
 direction. 
 
 AVhen they got to the lawn at the back of the 
 house, he halted a moment, and said quietly, 
 "Here they be." He pointed to some enormous 
 footsteps in the snow, and bade her notice that 
 they commenced at a certain glass door belonging
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 141 
 
 to tlio house, aiiclr that they all pointed outwards. 
 The lawn was covered with such marks, but the 
 scamp followed those his intelligence had selected, 
 and they took him through a gate, and down a 
 long walk, and into the park. Here no other feet 
 had trodden that morning except those Tom 
 Leicester was following. '• This is our game," 
 said he. " See, there he six footsteps ; and, now 
 I look, this here track is Squire Gaunt's. I know 
 his foot in the snow among a hundred. Bless your 
 heart, I've often been out shooting with Squire 
 Gaunt, and lost him in the woods, and found him 
 again by tracking him on dead leaves, let alone 
 s.now. I say, wasn't they useless idiots ? couldn't 
 tell ye how to run into a man, and snow on the 
 ground ! Why you can track a hare to her form 
 and a rat to his hole — let alone such big game as 
 .this, with a hoof like a frying-pan — in the snow." 
 " Oh, do not talk ; let us make haste," panted 
 Kate.
 
 142 GRIFFITH GAUNT. ' 
 
 " Canter away," replied the scamp. 
 
 She cantered on, and he ran by her side. 
 " Shall I not tire yon ?" said she. 
 
 The manvais sujet langhed at her. " Tire me ! 
 not over this gronnd. Why, I rim with the hounds, 
 and mostly always in at the death : but that is 
 not altogether speed ; ye see I know Pug's mind. 
 What, don't you know me .- I'm Tom Leicester. 
 W^hy, I know you : I say, you're a good-hearted 
 one, you are." 
 
 " Oh no ! no !" sighed Kate. 
 
 " Nay, but you are," said Tom. " I saw you 
 take Harrowden brook that day, when the rest 
 turned tail ; and that is what I call having a good 
 heart : gently, mistress, here, this is full of rabbit 
 holes ; I seen Sir Kalph's sorrel mare break her 
 leg in a moment in one of these. Shot her dead that 
 afternoon, a did, and then biled her for the hounds. 
 She'd often followed at then- tails ; next hunting 
 day she ran inside their bellies. Ha ! ha ! ha !"
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 143 
 
 " Oh, don't laygli. I am in agony." 
 
 " Why, what is up, mistress ?" asked the young- 
 savage, lowering his voice. ' Murder,' says you ; 
 but that means nought. The hisses they cry 
 murder if you do but kiss 'em." 
 
 '•' Oh, Tom Leicester, it is murder. It's a duel, 
 a fight to the death, unless we are in time to 
 prevent them." 
 
 " A jewel !" cried Master Leicester, his eyes 
 glittering with delight. '•' I never saw a jewel. 
 Don't you hold him in for me, mistress : gallop 
 down this slope as hard as you can pelt ; it is 
 grass under foot, and ye can't lose the tracks, 
 and I shall be sure to catch ye in the next field." 
 
 The young savage was now as anxious to be in 
 at the death, as Kate was to save life. As he 
 spoke he gave her horse a whack on the quarter 
 with his stick, and away she went full gallop, and 
 soon put a hundred yards between her and Tom," 
 
 The next field was a deep fallow ; and the hard.
 
 Hi GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 furrows reduced lier to a trot ; and before slie got 
 out of it, Tom Avas by her side : " Didn't I tell 
 you ?" said he. " I'd run you to Peyton Hall for 
 a pot o' beer." 
 
 " Oh you good, brave, clever boy," said Kate : 
 " how fortunate I am to have you. I think we 
 shall be in time." 
 
 Tom was flattered. " Why you see I am none 
 of Daddy Leicester's breed," said he. " I'm a 
 gentleman's by-blow, if you know what that is." 
 
 " I can't say I do," said Kate ; " but I know 
 you are very bold and handsome and swift of foot, 
 and I know my patron saint has sent you to me in 
 my misery, and oh, my lad, if we are in time — 
 what can I do for you ? — Are you fond of money, 
 Tom ?" 
 
 " That I be : when I can get it." 
 
 "Then you shall have all I have got in the 
 world, if YOU tret me there in time to hinder 
 mischief." '-
 
 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 145 
 
 " Come on !" shouted Tom, excited in his turn ; 
 and took the lead, and not a word more passed 
 till they came to the foot of a long hill. Then 
 said Tom, " Once we are at top of this, they can't 
 fiirht without our seeiuir 'em. That is Scutchem- 
 see Xob : you can see ten miles all round from 
 there." 
 
 M this information Kate uttered an ejaculation 
 and urged her horse forward. 
 
 The first part of this hill, which stood between 
 her and those whose tracks she followed, was 
 grass ; then came a strip of turnips ; then on the 
 bleak top a broad piece of heather. She soon^' 
 cantered over the grass ; and left Tom so far be- 
 hind he could not cpiito catch her in the turnips. 
 She entered the heather, but here she was much 
 retarded by the snow drifts, and the ups and 
 downs of the rough place. But she struggled on 
 bravely, still leading. 
 
 She fixed her eyes earnestly on the riclge, 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 Avlience slie could cry to tlie combatants, however 
 distant, and stop tlie combat. 
 
 Now as slie struggled on, and Tom came after, 
 panting a little for tbe first time, suddenly there 
 rose from the crest of the hill two columns of 
 smoke, and the next moment two sharp reports 
 rang through the frosty air. 
 
 Kate stopped ; and looked round to Tom with a 
 scared, inquiring air. 
 " ■''Pistols !" yelled Tom behind her. 
 
 At that the woman overpowered the heroine, 
 and Kate hid her face and fell to trembling and 
 wailing. Her wearied horse came down to a 
 walk. 
 
 Presently up comes Tom. "Don't lose your 
 stomach for that," he panted out. " Gentlefolks 
 do pop at one another all day sometimes, and no 
 harm done." 
 
 " Oh, bless you !" cried Kate ; " I may yet be 
 in time." She spurred her horse on. He did his
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 147 
 
 best, but ere he had gone twenty yards, he 
 plunged into a cavity hidden by the snow. 
 
 While he was floundering there crack w^ent a 
 single pistol, and the smoke rose and drifted over 
 the hill top. 
 
 "y\T\^o — op!" muttered Tom, with horrible 
 sano-.froid. '-There's one done for this time. 
 Couldn't shoot back, ye see." 
 
 At this horrible explanation, Kate sank forward 
 on her horse's mane as if she herself had been 
 killed ; and the smoke from the pistol came 
 floating, thinner and thinner, and eddied high 
 •over her head. 
 
 Tom spoke rude words of encouragement to her. 
 She did not even seem to hear them. Then he 
 lost all patience at her, and clutched her arm to 
 make her hear him. But at that it seemed as if 
 .some of his nature passed into her down his arm, 
 for she turned wild directly and urged her horse 
 fiercely up the crest. Her progress was slow at 
 
 L 2
 
 148 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 first ; but the sun had melted the snow on the- 
 Nob or extreme summit. Slie tore her way 
 through the last of the snow on to the clear piece, 
 then, white as ashes, spurred and lashed her horse 
 over the ridge and dashed in amongst them on- 
 the other side. For there they were. 
 
 What was the sight that met her eyes ? 
 
 That belongs to the male branch of my story,. 
 and shall be told forthwith, but in its proper 
 sequence.
 
 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 149 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The two combatants came to the field in a very 
 different spirit. Neville had already fought two 
 duels, and been successful in both. He had con- 
 fidence in his skill, and in his luck. His con- 
 science too was tolerably clear: for he Avas the 
 insulted person ; and, if a bullet should remove 
 this dangerous rival from his path, why all the 
 better for him, and all the worse for the fool who 
 had (brought the matter to a bloody issue, though 
 the balance of the lady's heart inclined his way. 
 
 He came in high spirits, and rode upon Kate 
 Peyton's grey, to sting his adversary, and show his 
 contempt of iiim.
 
 150 CtEiffith gaukt. 
 
 Not so Griffitli Gaunt. His heart was lieav}', 
 and foreboded ill. It was his first duel, and he 
 expected to be killed. He had played a fool's 
 game, and he saw it. 
 
 The night before the duel he tried hard to 
 sleep : he knew it was not giving his nerves fair 
 play to lie thinking all night. But coy sleep, as 
 usual when most wanted, refused to come. At 
 daybreak the restless man gave it up in despair, 
 and rose and dressed himself. He wrote that 
 letter to Catherine, little thinking it would fall 
 into her hands while he lived. He ate a littlo 
 toast and drank a pint of Burgundy ; and then 
 wandered listlessly about till Major Eickards, his 
 second, arrived. 
 
 That experienced gentleman brought a surgeon 
 with him ; Mr. Islip. 
 
 Major Eickards deposited a shallow wooden box 
 in the hall ; and the two gentlemen sat down to 
 a hearty breakfast.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 151 
 
 Griffith tooly- care of his guests, but beyond that 
 spoke scarcely a word ; and the surgeon, after a 
 ghastly attempt at commonplaces, was silent too. 
 Major Richards satisfied his appetite first, and 
 then, finding his companions dumb, set to work to 
 keep up their spirits. He entertained them with 
 a narrative of the personal encounters he had 
 witnessed, and especially of one in Avhich his 
 princij^al had fallen on his face at the first fire, 
 and the antagonist had sprung into the air, and 
 both had lain dead as door nails, and never moved, 
 nor even winked, after that single discharge. 
 
 Griffith sat under this chilling talk for more 
 than an hour. 
 
 At last he rose gloomily, and said it was time 
 to go. 
 
 " Got your tools, doctor ?" inquired the Major. 
 
 The suro-eon nodded slitrhtlv. He was more 
 discreet than his friend. 
 
 When they had walked nearly a mile in the
 
 152 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 snow, the Major began to complain. "The 
 devil !" said he ; " this is queer walking. My 
 boots are full of water. I shall catch my death." 
 
 The surgeon smiled satirically, comparing silent 
 Grifiith's peril with his second's. 
 
 Griffith took no notice. He went like Forti- 
 tude plodding to Execution. 
 
 Major Eickards fell behind, and whispered Mr. 
 Islip : " Don't like his looks ; doesn't march like 
 a winner. A job for you or the sexton, you mark 
 my words." 
 
 They toiled up Scutchemsee Nob, and when 
 they reached the top, they saw Neville and his 
 second, j\Ir. Hammersley, riding towards them. 
 The pair had halters as well as bridles, and dis- 
 mountiuo-, made their nac^s fast to a lariie black- 
 thorn that grew there. The seconds then stepped 
 forward and saluted each other with formal 
 civilitv.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 153 
 
 Griffitli looked at the grey horse, aud grourd 
 his teeth. The sight of the animal in NeYille's 
 possession stirred up his hate, and helped to steel 
 his heart. He stood apart, still, pale and 
 gloomy. 
 
 The seconds stepped out fifteen paces, and 
 placed the men. Then they loaded two pair of 
 pistols, and put a pistol in each man's hand. 
 
 Major Eickards took that opportunity to advise 
 his principal. '* Stand sharp. Keep your arm 
 close to vour side. Don't fire too high. How do 
 you feel ?" 
 
 " Like a man who must die ; but will try to die 
 in company." 
 
 The seconds now withdrew to their places, and 
 the rivals held their pistols lowered : but fixed 
 their deadly eyes on each other. 
   The eye, in such a circumstance, is a terrible 
 thing : it is literally a weapon of destruction ; for 
 it directs the deadly hand that guides the deadly
 
 154 GKIFFITH GAUNT, 
 
 bullet. Moreover the longer and tlie more 
 steadily the duellist fixes his eye on his adversary^ 
 the less likely he is to miss. 
 
 Griffith was very pale, but dogged. Neville 
 was serious, but firm. Both eyed each other 
 unflinchingly, 
 
 " Gentlemen, are you ready ?" asked Neville's 
 second. 
 
 ("Yes." 
 
 ("Yes." 
 
 "Then," said Major Eickards, "you will fire 
 when I let fall this handkerchief, and not before. 
 Mark me, gentlemen ; to prevent mistakes, I shall 
 
 say ' one two three ' and then 
 
 drop the handkerchief. Now then, once more, are 
 you quite ready ?" 
 
 r"Yes." 
 
 i" Yes." 
 
 " One Two Three." 
 
 He dropped the handkerchief, and both
 
 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 155 
 
 gentlemen fired simnltaneonsly. Mr. Neville's 
 hat spun into tlie air ; Griffitli stood untouched. 
 
 The bullet had passed through Neville's hat, 
 and had actually cut a lane through his magnifi- 
 cent hair. 
 
 The seconds now consulted, and it was intimated 
 to Griffith that a word of apology would be ac- 
 cepted by his antagonist. 
 
 Griffith declined to utter a syllable of apology. 
 
 Two more pistols were given the men. 
 
 " Aim lower," said Eickards. 
 
 " I mean to," said Griffith. 
 
 The seconds withdrew, and the men eyed each: 
 other : Griffith dogged and pale, as before, Neville 
 not nearly so self-assui-ed ; Griffith's bullet, in 
 grazing him, had produced the effect of a sharp, 
 cold, current of air no wider than a knife. It was 
 like death's icy forefinger laid on his head, to 
 mark him for the next shot ; as men mark a tree ; 
 then come again and fell it.
 
 156 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 « One two three !" 
 
 And Griffith's pistol missed fire, but Neville's 
 went off, and Griffith's arm sank jDowerless, and 
 his pistol rolled out of his hand. He felt a sharp 
 twinge, and then something trickle down his 
 arm. 
 
 The surgeon and both seconds ran to him. 
 
 "JSTay, it is nothing," said he, "I shoot far 
 better with my left hand than my right. Give me 
 another pistol, and let me have fair play. He has 
 hit me. And now I'll hit him." 
 
 Both seconds agreed this was impossible. 
 
 "It is the chance of war," said Major Kickards: 
 ^'you cannot be allowed to take a cool shot at 
 Mr. Neville. If you fire again, so must he." 
 
 " The affair may ^very well end here," said Mr. 
 Hammersley. " I understand there was some 
 provocation on our side ; and on behalf of the 
 party insulted I am content to let the matter end, 
 Mr. Gaunt being wounded."
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 157 
 
 " I demand my second shot to his third," said 
 Griffith sternly ; '' he will not decline, unless he is 
 a poltroon as well as   what I called him." . 
 
 The nature of this reply was communicated to 
 Neville, and the seconds, with considerable reluc- 
 tance, loaded two more pistols; and during the 
 process Major Eickards glanced at the com- 
 batants. 
 
 Griffith, exasperated by his wound and his 
 jealousy, was wearing out the chivalrous courage 
 of his adversary ; and the Major saw it. His keen 
 eye noticed that Neville was getting restless, and 
 looking confounded at his despised rival's per- 
 tinacity: and that Gaunt was more dogged, and 
 more deadly. 
 
 "My man will kill yours this time," said he, 
 quietly, to Neville's second. " I can see it in his 
 . eye ; he is hungry ; t'other has had his bellyful." 
 
 Once more the men were armed, and the 
 seconds withdrew to their places, intimating tliat
 
 158 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 this was the hist shot they would allow under any 
 circumstances whatever. 
 
 '•' Are you both ready ?" 
 
 ("Yes." 
 
 i"Yes." 
 
 A faint wail seemed to echo the response. 
 
 All heard it, and in that superstitious age 
 beheved it to be some mysterious herald of death. 
 
 It susjiended even Major Eickard's voice a 
 minute. He recovered himself, however, and 
 once more his soldier-like tones rans: in the keen 
 air : — 
 
 «.' One " 
 
 There was a great rushing, and a pounding of 
 the hard ground, and a scarlet Amazon galloped 
 in and drew up in the middle, right between the 
 levelled pistols. 
 
 Every eye had been so bent on the combatants, 
 that Kate Peyton and her horse seemed to have 
 sprung out of the very earth. And there she sat.
 
 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 159 
 
 pale as aslies, o»tlie steaming piebald, and glanced 
 from pistol to pistol. 
 
 The duellists stared in utter amazement, and 
 instinctively lowered their weapons ; for she had 
 put herself right in their line of fire, with a reck- 
 lessness that contrasted nobly with her fear for 
 others. In short this apparition literally petrified 
 them all, seconds as well as combatants. 
 
 And, while they stood open-mouthed yet dumb, 
 in came the Scamp, and, with a brisk assumption 
 of delegated authority, took Griffith's weapon out 
 of his now unresisting hand ; then marched to 
 Neville. He instantly saluted Catherine, and then 
 handed his pistol to her seeming agent, with a 
 high-bred and inimitable air of utter nonchalance. 
 
 Kate, seeing them to her surprise so easily 
 disarmed, raised her hands and her lovely eyes to 
 . Heaven, and in a feeble voice, thanked God and 
 St. Nescioquis. 
 
 But very soon that faint voice quavered away to
 
 160 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 notliiug, and her fair head was seen to droop, and 
 her eyes to close ; then her body sank slowly- 
 forward like a broken lily ; and in another moment 
 she lay fainting on the snow beside her steaming- 
 horse. 
 
 He never moved, he was so dead beat too. 
 
 O lame and impotent conclusion of a vigorous, 
 exploit ! Masculine np to the crowning point, and 
 then to go and spoil aJl with " woman's weakness/' 
 
 " N.B : This is rote sarcasticul," as Artemus^ 
 the delicious, savs. Woman's weakness! If 
 Solomon had planned and Samson executed, they 
 could not have served her turn better than this 
 most seasonable swooning did. For lo ! at her fall 
 the doughty combatants uttered a yell of dismay,, 
 and there was an indiscriminate rush towards the 
 fair sufferer. 
 
 But the surgeon claimed his rights : — " This is 
 my business," said he, authoritatively ; " do not 
 crowd on her, gentlemen ; give her air."
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 161 
 
 Whereupon -the duellists and seconds stood 
 respectfully aloof in a mixed group, and watched 
 with eager interest and pity. 
 
 The sursfeon made a hole in the snow and laid 
 liis fair patient's head low. " Don't he alarmed," 
 said he : " she has swooned ; that is all." 
 
 It was all mighty fine to say don't be alarmed. 
 
 But lier face was ashy, and her lips the colour of 
 
 lead : and she was so like death, they could not 
 
 help being terribly alarmed: and now, for the 
 
 first time, the duellists felt culprits; and, as for 
 
 fighting, every idea of such a thing went out of 
 
 their heads : the rivals now were but rival nurses : 
 
 and never did a lot of women make more fuss 
 
 over a child, than all these bloodthirsty men did 
 
 over this iVmazon manquee. They produced their 
 
 legendary lore : one's grandmother had told him 
 
 Jmrnt feathers were the thing; another, from an 
 
 equally venerable source, had gathered that those- 
 
 pink palms must be profanely slapped by the- 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 horny hand of a man ; for at no less a price could 
 resuscitation be obtained. The surgeon scorning 
 all their legends, Griffith and Neville made hasty 
 rushes with brandy and usquebagh ; but whether 
 to be taken internally or externally, they did not 
 say, nor indeed know ; but only thrust their flasks 
 wildly on the doctor: and he declined them 
 loftily. He melted snow in his hand, and dashed 
 it hard in her face ; and put salts close to her 
 pretty little nostrils. And this he repeated many 
 times, without effect. 
 
 But at last her lips began to turn from lead 
 colour to white, and then from Avhite to pink, and 
 her heavenly eyes to open again, and her mouth 
 to mm-mur things pitiably small and not bearing 
 on the matter in hand. 
 
 Her cheek was still colourless, when her con- 
 sciousness came back, and she found she Avas lying 
 on the ground with ever so many gentlemen look- 
 ing at her.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 163 
 
 At tliat, Modesty alarmed sent the blood at 
 once rushing to her pale clieek. 
 
 A lovely lily seemed turning to a lovely rose 
 before their eyes. 
 
 The next thing was, she hid that blushing face 
 in her hands, and began to whimper. 
 
 The surgeon encouraged her : " Nay, we are 
 all friends," he whispered, paternally. 
 
 She half parted her fingers and peered through 
 them at Neville and Gaunt. Then she remem- 
 bered all, and began to ciy hysterically. 
 
 New dismay of sanguinary unprofessionals ! 
 
 " Noiv, gentlemen, if you will lend me your 
 flasks," said Mr. Islip, mighty calmly, 
 
 " Griffith and Neville were instantly at his side, 
 each with a flask. 
 
 The surgeon administered snow and brandy. 
 . Kate sipped these, and gulped down her sobs, and 
 at last cried composedly. 
 
 But, when it came to sipping brandicd snow and 
 
 M 2
 
 164 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 crying comfortably, Major Eickards's anxiety gave 
 place to curiosity. Without taking his eye off 
 her he beckoned , jMr. Hammersley apart, and 
 whispered, " Who the deuce is it ?" 
 
 "Don't you know?" wliispered the other in 
 return. " Why Mistress Peyton herself." ' 
 
 "What, the girl it is all about? Well, I never 
 heard of such a thing : the causa belli to come 
 galloping, and sioooning, on the field of battle, and 
 so stop the fighting ! What will our ladies do 
 next? By Heaven, she is wortli fighting for 
 though. Which is the happy man, I Avonder? 
 She doesn't look at either of them." 
 
 " Ah !" said the gentleman, " that is more than 
 I know, more than Xeville knows, more tlian 
 anybody knows." 
 
 " Bet you a guinea she knows ; and lets it 
 out before she leaves the field," said Major 
 Eickards. 
 
 Mr. Hammersley objected to an even bet ; but
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 165 
 
 said lie would 'veuture oue to three she did not. 
 It was an ao:e oi' bets. 
 
 "Done !" said the Major. 
 
 By this time Kate had risen, with Mr. Islip's 
 assistance, and was now standing with her hand 
 upon the piebald's mane. She saw Eickards and 
 Hammersley were whispering about her, and she 
 felt very uneasy : so she told Mr. Islip timidly she 
 desired to explain her conduct to all the gentle- 
 men present, and avert false reports. 
 
 They were soon all about her, and she began 
 with the most engaging embarrassment by making- 
 excuses for her weakness. She said she had ridden 
 all the way from home, fasting ; tltat was what 
 had upset her. The gentlemen took the cue 
 directly, and vowed eagerly and unanimously it 
 was enough to upset a porter. 
 
 "But indeed," resumed Kate, blushing, "I did 
 not come here to make a fuss, and be troublesome ; 
 Ijut to prevent mischief, and clear up the strangest
 
 166 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 misunderstanding between tv/o wortliy gentlemen 
 that are, botli of tliem, my good friends." 
 
 She paused, and there was a chilling silence : 
 everybody felt she was getting on ticklish ground 
 now. She knew that well enough herself. But she 
 had a good rudder to steer by, called Mother-wit. 
 
 Says she, with inimitable coolness, " Mr. Gaunt 
 is an old friend of mine, and a little too sensitive 
 where I am concerned. Some chatter-box has 
 been and told him Mr. Neville should say I have 
 changed horses with him ; and on that the gossips 
 put their own construction. JMr. Gaunt hears all 
 this, and applies insulting terms to Mr. Neville. 
 Nay, do not deny it, Mr. Gaunt, for I have it here 
 in your own handwriting. 
 
 "As for Mr. Neville, he merely defends his 
 honour, and is little to blame. But now I shall 
 tell the true story about these horses, and make 
 you all ashamed of this sorry quarrel. 
 
 '• Gentlemen, thus it is : a few days ago Mr.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 167 
 
 Gaunt bade me farewell, and started for foreign 
 parts. He had not been long gone wlien word 
 came from Bolton that Mr. Charlton was no more. 
 You know how sudden it was. Consider, gentle- 
 men; him dead, and his heir riding off to the 
 Continent in ignorance. !So I thought, ' Oh what 
 shall I do ? Just then Mr. Keville visited me, and 
 I told him: on that ho offered me his piebald 
 horse to carry the news after Mr. Gaunt, because 
 my grey was too tired ; it was the day we drew 
 Yew-tree Brow, and crossed Harrowden brook, you 
 know " 
 
 Griffith interrupted her : " Stay a bit," said he : 
 " this is news to me. You never told me he had 
 lent you the piebald nag to do me a good turn." 
 
 "Did I not?" said Kate, mighty innocently. 
 " Well, but I tell you now. Ask him ; he cannot 
 deny it. As for the rest, it was all done in a 
 hurry ; jMr. Neville had no horse now to ride homo 
 with ; he did me the justice to think I should bo
 
 168 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 very ill pleased were lie to trudge home a-foot 
 and suffer for his courtesy; so he borrowed my 
 grey, to keep him out of the mire; and indeed 
 the ways were fouler than usual, with the rains. 
 Was there any ill in all this ? HoNi SOIT QUI 
 MAL Y PEXSE ! say I." 
 
 The gentlemen all sided loudly with her on 
 this appeal — except Neville, who held his tongue, 
 and smiled at her plausibility ; and Griffith, who 
 hung his head at her siding with Neville. 
 
 At last he spoke and said sorrowfully : " If you 
 did exchange horses with him, of course I have 
 only to ask his pardon — and go." 
 
 Catherine reflected a moment before she replied. 
 
 " Well," said she, " I did exchange, and I did 
 not. Why quarrel about a word? certainly he 
 took my horse, and I took his ; but it was only for 
 the nonce. jMr. Neville is foreign bred, and an 
 example to us all : he knows his piebald is worth 
 two of my grey, and so he was too fine a gentle-
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 169 
 
 man to send me' back my old hunter and ask for 
 liis young charger. He waited for me to do that ; 
 and, if anybody deserves to be shot, it must be 
 Me. But, dear heart, I did not foresee all this 
 fuss ; I said to myself, ' La, Mr, Neville will be 
 sure to call on my father or me some day, or else 
 I shall be out on the piebald, and meet him on 
 the grey, and then we can each take our own 
 again.' Was I so far out in my reckoning ? Is 
 not that my Eosinante yonder ? Here, Tom 
 Leicester, you put my side-saddle on that grey 
 liorse, and the man's saddle on tho piebald there. 
 — And now, Griffith Gaunt, it is your turn : you 
 must withdrav/ your injurious terms, and end this 
 superlative folly." 
 
 Griffith hesitated. 
 
 " Come," said Kate, " consider ; 3Ir. Neville is 
 esteemed by all the county : you are the only 
 gentleman in it who have ever uttered a dispa- 
 raging word against him. Are you sure you are
 
 170 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 more free from passion and prejudice, and Aviser 
 than all the county ? oblige me, and do what is 
 right. Come, Griffith Gaunt; let your reason 
 unsay the barbarous words your passion hath 
 uttered against a worthy gentleman, whom we all 
 esteem." 
 
 Her habitual influence, and these last words, 
 spoken with gentle and persuasive dignity, turned 
 the scale. Griffith turned to Neville, and said in 
 a low voice that he began to fear he had been 
 hasty, and used harsher words than the occasion 
 justified : he was going to stammer out something 
 more, but Neville interrupted him with a noble 
 gesture: "That is enough, Mr. Gaunt," said he. 
 " I do not feel quite blameless in the matter : and 
 have no wish to mortify an honourable adversary 
 unnecessarily." 
 
 "Very handsomely said," put in Major Eick- 
 ards : " and now let me have a word. I say that 
 both gentlemen have conducted themselves like
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 171 
 
 men — under firg ; and that honour is satisfied, and 
 the misunderstanding at an end. As for my 
 principal here, he has shown he can fight, and now 
 he has shown he can hear reason against himself, 
 when the lips of beauty utter it. I approve his 
 conduct from first to last, and am ready to defend 
 it in all companies, and in the field, should it ever 
 be impugned." 
 
 Kate coloured with pleasure, and gave her hand 
 eloquently to the IMajor. He bowed over it, and 
 kissed the tips of her fingers. 
 
 " Oh ! sir," she said, looking on him now as a 
 friend, " I dreamed I saw Mr. Neville lying dead 
 upon the snow, with the blood trickling from his 
 temple." 
 
 At tliis Neville's dark cheek glowed with plea- 
 sure. So ! it was her anxiety on his account had 
 brought her here. 
 
 Griffith heard too, and sighed patiently. 
 
 Assured by IMajor llickards that there neither
 
 172 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 could nor should be any more fighting, Kate made 
 her adieux, mounted her grey horse, and rode off, 
 discreetly declining all attendance. She beckoned 
 Tom Leicester, however. But he pretended not 
 to see the signal ; and let her go alone. His 
 motive for lingering behind was characteristic, and 
 will transpire shorth*. 
 
 As soon as she wjis gone, Griffith Gaunt quietly 
 reminded the surgeon that there was a bullet in 
 his arm all this time. 
 
 *' Bless my soul !" said Mr. Islip, " I forgot that ; 
 I was so taken up with the lady." 
 
 Griffith's coat was now taken off, and the bullet 
 searched for : it had entered the lleshy part of his 
 arm below the elbow, and, passing round the bone, 
 projected just under the skin. The surgeon made 
 a slight incision, and then, pressing with his finger 
 and thumb, out it rolled. Griffith put it in his 
 pocket. 
 
 Neville had remained out of civilitv, and now
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 173 
 
 ooDgratulated his late antagonist, and himself, that 
 it was no worse. 
 
 The last words that jDassed between the rivals 
 on this occasion were worth recording, and charac- 
 teristic of the time. 
 
 Neville addressed Gaunt with elaborate courtesy, 
 and to this effect : "I find myself in a difficulty, 
 sir. You did me the honour to invite me to Mr. 
 Charlton's funeral, and I accepted: but now I 
 fear to intrude a guest, the sight of whom may be 
 disagreeable to you. And, on the other hand, my 
 absence might be misconstrued as a mark of 
 disrespect, or of a   petty hostility I am far from 
 feeling. Be pleased, therefore, to dispose of me 
 entirely in this matter." 
 
 Griffith reflected. "Sir," said he, "there is an 
 old saying, ' let every tub stand on its own bottom.' 
 •The deceased wished you to follow hiui to the 
 grave, and therefore I would on no account haye 
 you absent. Besides, now I tliink of it, there will
 
 174 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 be less gossip about this unfortunate business if 
 our neighbours see you under my roof; and treated 
 with due consideration there, as you will be." 
 
 ''I do not doubt that, sir, from so manly an 
 adversary; and I shall do myself the honour to 
 come." Such was Neville's reply. The rivals then 
 saluted each other profoundly, and parted. 
 
 Hammersley and Kickards lingered behind their 
 principals to settle their little bet about Kate's 
 affections : and, by-the-by, they were indiscreet 
 enough to discuss this delicate matter Avithin a 
 dozen yards of Tom Leicester: they forgot that 
 " little pitchers have long ears." 
 
 Catherine Peyton rode slowly home, and thought 
 it all over as she went ; and worried herself finely. 
 She was one that winced at notoriety ; and she 
 could not hope to escape it now. How the gossips 
 would talk about her ! they would say the gentle- 
 men had fought about her ; and she had parted 
 them for love of one of them. And then the
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 175 
 
 2:entlemen themselves ! The strict neutrality she 
 had eudeavoured to maintain on Sciitchemsee 
 Nob, in order to make peace, would it not keep 
 them both her suitors? She foresa\y she should 
 be pulled to pieces, and live in hot water, and be 
 '■' the talk of the county." 
 
 There were but two ways out : she must marry 
 one of them, and petition the other not to shoot 
 him ; or else she must take the veil, and so escape 
 them both. 
 
 She preferred the latter alternative. She was 
 more enthusiastic in religion than in any earthly 
 thing : and now the angry passions of men thrust 
 her the same road that lier own devout mind had 
 always drawn her., 
 
 As soon as she got home she sent a message to 
 Father Franeis, who drove her conscience, and 
 -besrsjed him to come and advise her. 
 
 After that, she did the wisest thing, perhaps, she 
 had done all dav. Went to bed.
 
 17(3 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The sun was just setting when Catlierine's maid 
 came into lier room and told her Father Francis 
 was below. She sent down to say she counted on 
 his sleeping at Peyton Hall ; and she would come 
 down to him in half an hour. She then ordered a 
 refection to be prepared for him in her boudoir ; 
 and made her toilet with all reasonable speed, not 
 to keep him waiting. Her face beamed with quiet 
 complacency now : for the holy man's very presence 
 in the house was a comfort to her. 
 
 Father Francis Avas a very stout muscular man, 
 with a ruddy countenance : he never wore gloves,, 
 and you saw at once he was not a gentleman by
 
 GRIFFITH (tAUNT. 177 
 
 birth. He liacTa fine voice ; it ^Yas deep, mellow, 
 and when he chose, sonorous. This, and his person, 
 ample, but not obese, gave him great weight, 
 especially with his female pupils. If he was not 
 quite so much reverenced by the men, yet he was 
 both respected and liked ; in fact, he had qualities 
 that make men welcome in every situation : good 
 humour, good sense, and tact. A good son of his 
 Church, and early trained to let no occasion slip 
 of advancing her interests. 
 
 I wish my readers could have seen the meeting 
 between Catherine Peyton and this burly eccle- 
 siastic. She came into the drawing'room with 
 that imperious air and carriage which had made 
 her so impopular with her own sex ; and at the 
 bare sight of Father Francis, drooped and bent in 
 a moment as she walked ; and her Avhole body 
 .indicated a submissiveness, graceful, but rather 
 abject : it was as if a young poplar should turn to 
 a weeping willow in half a moment. Thus mcta- 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 morphosed, the Beauty of Camberland glided up 
 to Francis, and sank almost to her knee before 
 him, crossed her hands on her bosom, lowered her 
 lovely head, and awaited his benediction. 
 
 The father made rapidly the sign of the cross 
 over that thoroughbred head and golden hair, and 
 blessed her business-like. 
 
 The hand of less employment hath the daintier sense. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 Father Francis blessed so many of these pretty 
 creatures every week, that he had long outgrown 
 your fine romantic way of blessing a body. (We 
 manage these things better in the theatre.) Then 
 he lent her his hand to rise, and asked her in 
 what she required his direction at present. 
 
 "In that which shall decide my whole life," 
 
 said she. 
 
 Francis responded by a look of paternal in- 
 terest. 
 
 " But first," murmured she, " let me confess to
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 179 
 
 yon, and obtain absolution, if I may. Ah, father, 
 my sins have been many since last confession." 
 
 "Be it so," said Father Francis, resignedly. 
 " Confession is the best preface to Direction." 
 And he seated himself with a certain chanre of 
 manner, an easy assumption of authority. 
 
 "Nay, father," suggested the lady, '-'we shall 
 be more private in my room." 
 
 " As you will. Mistress Catherine Peyton," said 
 the priest, returning to his usual manner. 
 
 So then the fair penitent led her spiritual judge 
 captive up another flight of stairs, and into her 
 little boudoir. A cheerful wood fire crackled and 
 flamed uj) the chimney, and a cloth had been laid 
 on a side table : cold turkey and chine graced the 
 board, and a huge glass magnum of purple Bur- 
 gundy glowed and shone in the rays of the cheery Are. 
 • Father Francis felt cosy at the sight ; and at 
 once accepted Kate's invitation to take some 
 nourishment before entering on the labour of 
 
 'n 2
 
 180 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 listeninir to tlie catalo2;ue of her crimes. " I 
 lasted yesterday," he muttered : and the zeal \Yith 
 M'hich he attacked the viands rendered the state- 
 ment highly credible. He invited Kate to join 
 him ; but she declined. 
 
 He returned more than once to the succulent 
 meats, and washed all down with a pint of the fine 
 old Burgundy, perfumed and purple. Meantime 
 she of the laity sat looking into tlie fire ^ntli 
 heavenly-minded eyes. 
 
 At last, with a gentle sigh of content, the 
 ghostly father installed himself in an arm-chair, 
 by the fire, and invited his penitent to begin. 
 
 She took a footstool and brought it to his side, 
 so that in confessing her blacker vices she miiiht 
 be able to wliisper them in his very ear. She 
 kneeled on her little footstool, put her hands 
 across her breast, and in this lowly attitude mur- 
 mured softlv after this fashion, with a contrite 
 voice: —
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 181 
 
 " I have to ttcciise myself of many vices. Alas ! 
 in one short fortniirlit I have accumulated the 
 wickedness of a life. I have committed the seven 
 deadly sins. I have been guilty of Pride, Wrath, 
 Envy, Disobedience, Immodesty, Vanity, Luxur\% 
 Fibs " 
 
 "Gently, daughter," said the priest, quietly; 
 •'these terms are too general: give me instances. 
 Let us begin ^Yith Wrath ; ah ! we are all prone to 
 that." 
 
 The fair penitent sighed, and said : '•' Especially 
 me. Example : I was angry beyond reason Avith 
 my maid, Euth. (She does comb my hair so 
 uncouthly.) So then the other night, when I was 
 in trouble, and most needed soothing, by being- 
 combed womanly, she gets thinking of Harry that 
 helps in the stable, and she tears away at my hair. 
 I started up and screamed out ' Oh, you clumsy 
 thing ! go currycomb my horse, and send that oaf 
 your head is running on to handle my liair.' And
 
 182 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 I told lier my gvanclcUuu would have whipped her 
 well for it; but now-a-days mistresses were the 
 only sufferers : we had lost the use of our hands, 
 we are grown so squeamish ; and I stamped like a 
 fury, and said ' Get you gone out of the room ; and 
 I hated the sight of her.' And the poor girl went 
 from me, crying, without a word — being a bettor 
 (Christian tiian her mistress ; mea culpa ! mea culpa !" 
 
 " Did you slap her ?" 
 
 " Nay, father, not so bad as that." 
 
 " Are you quite sure you did not slap her ?" 
 asked Francis, quietly. 
 
 " Nay. But I had a mind to. My heart slapped 
 lier if my hand forbore. Alas !" 
 
 '•' Had she hurt yon ?" 
 
 " That she did : but only my head. I hurt her 
 heart; for the poor Avencli loves me dear; the 
 Lord knows for what." 
 
 " Humph ! — proceed to Pride." 
 
 " Yes, father. I do .confess that I was greatly
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 183 
 
 puffed lip with the praises of men. I ^\as proud 
 of the sorriest things ; of jumping a brook, Avhen 
 'twas Miy horse jumped it, and had jumped it 
 better Avith a fly ou his back than the poor worm 
 Me ; of my good looks, forgetting that God gave 
 them me ; and besides I am no beauty w^hen all 
 is clone ; it is all their flattery. And at my Lady 
 Munster's dinner I pridefuUy walked out before 
 Mistress Davies, the rich cheesemonger's wife, 
 that is as proud of her money as I of my old 
 blood (God forgive two fools !) ; which I had no 
 right to do ; a maid to walk before a wife : and 
 oh, father, I M'hispered the gentleman who 
 
 led me out ; it was Mr. Neville " Here the 
 
 penitent put one hand before her face, and hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 " Well, daughter, half confession is no con- 
 
   fession. You said to Mr. Neville ?" 
 
 " I said, ' Nothing comes after cheese.' " 
 This revelation was made most dolefullv.
 
 LSI GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 "It was pert and unbecoming," said Father 
 Francis, gravely ; thougli a twinkle in his eye 
 showed that he was not so profoundly shocked 
 as his penitent appeared to be. '"' But go to 
 graver matters. Immodesty, said you : I shall be 
 very sorry if this is so. You did not use to be 
 immodest." 
 
 " Well, fatlier, I hope I have not altogether laid 
 aside modestv ; otherwise it would be time for me 
 to die, let alone to confess ; but sure it cannot be 
 modest of me to ride after a gentleman and take 
 him a letter. And then that was not enough : I 
 heard of a duel, and what did I do but ride to 
 Scutchemsee Nob, and interfere. What gentle- 
 woman ever was so bold? I was not their wife 
 you know ; neither of them's." 
 
 " Humph !" said the priest, " I have already 
 heard a whisper of this ; but told to your credit. 
 Beati pacifici : blessed are the peacemakers. You 
 had better lay that matter before me by-and-by,
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT, 185 
 
 as your director. As your confessor, tell me why 
 you accuse yourself of Luxury." 
 
 "Alas!" said the young lady, "scarce a day 
 passes that I do not offend in tltat respect. Ex- 
 ample : last Friday, dining abroad, tlie cooks sent 
 up a dish of collops. Oh, father, they smelt so 
 nice : and I had been a huntino;. First I smelt 
 them : and that I couldn't help. But then I 
 forgot custodia oculorum ; and I eyed them. And 
 the next thing was, presently — somehow — two of 
 'em were on my plate." 
 
 " Very wrong," said Father Francis ; " but 
 that is a harsher term than I should have ap- 
 plied to this longing of a hungry woman for 
 collops o' Friday. Pray what do you understand 
 by that big word ?" 
 
 "Why, you explained it yourself, in your last 
 sermon. It means ' unruly and inordinate desires.' 
 Example : Edith Hammersley told me I was mad 
 to ride in scarlet, and ]ne so fair and my hair so
 
 186 GRIFFITH GAUNT, 
 
 light. ' Green or purple is your colour,' says she : 
 and soon after this didn't I see in Stanhope town 
 the loveliest piece of purple broadcloth ? Oh, 
 father, it had a gloss like velvet, and the sun 
 did so shine on it as it lay in the shop-window : 
 it was fit for a king or a bishop : and I stood and 
 gloated on it, and pined for it, and died for it, and 
 down went the tenth commandment." 
 
 " Ah," said Francis, " the hearts of women are 
 set on vanity. But tell me, these unruly affec- 
 tions of yom's, are they ever fixed on persons of 
 the other sex ?" 
 
 The fair sinner reflected. '•' On gentlemen !" 
 said she. '■ Why, they come pestering one of their 
 own accord. No, no ; I could do without them 
 very well. What I sinfully pine for is meat on a 
 Friday as sure as ever the day comes round ; and 
 high-couraged horses to ride, and fine clothes to 
 wear every day in tlie week : mea culpa ! mea 
 culpa !"
 
 GriFFITH GAUNT. "187 
 
 Siicli being the dismal state of things, Francis 
 slily requested Iier to leave tlie seven deadly 
 sins in peace, and go to her small offences : for 
 he argued shrewdly enough that since her sins 
 were peccadilloes, perhaps some of her pecca- 
 dilloes might turn out to be sins. 
 
 " Small !" cried the culprit, turning red : '•' they 
 are none of them small." I really think she was 
 jealous of her reputation as a sinner of liigli 
 degree. 
 
 However she complied, and putting up her 
 mouth, mm*mured a miscellaneous confession with- 
 out end. The accents were soft and musical, like 
 a babbling brook ; and the sins, such as they were, 
 poor things, rippled on in endless rotation. 
 
 Now nothing tends more to repose than a 
 purling brook ; and ere long that Bassoon, her 
 .confessor's nose, lot lier Icnow she had lost his 
 ear. 
 
 She stopped indignant. But at that he in-
 
 188 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 stantly awoke (sublata causa, tollitur effectus), 
 and addressed her thus with sudden dignity : — 
 '•']\Iy daughter, you will flist on Monday next, and 
 say two Ayes and a Credo. Absolve te. 
 
 " And now," said he, "as I am a practical man, 
 let us get back from the imaginary world into the 
 real. Speak to me at present as your director; 
 and mind you must be serious now, and call 
 things by their right names." 
 
 Upon this Kate took a seat, and told her story, 
 and showed him the difficulty she was in. She 
 then reminded him that, notwithstanding her un- 
 fortunate itcli f(jr the seven deadly sins, she was a 
 good Catholic, a zealous daughter of the Church : 
 and she let him know her desire to retire from 
 ]jotli lovers into a convent : and, so freed from 
 the world and its temptations, yield up her soul 
 entire to celestial peace and divine contemplation. 
 
 " Not so fast," said the priest. " Even zeal is 
 nought without obedience. If you could serve the
 
 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 189 
 
 Church better than by going into a convent, would 
 you be wilful ?" 
 
 '•' Oh no, fixther. But how can I serve the 
 Church better than by renouncing the world ?" 
 
 "Perhaps by remaining in the world, as she 
 herself does ; and by making converts to the 
 faith. You could hardly serve her worse than 
 by going into a convent ; for our convents are 
 poor, and you have no means ; you would be a 
 charge. No, daughter, we want no poor nuns ; 
 we have enough of them. If you are, as I think, 
 a true and zealous daughter of the Church, you 
 must marry ; and instil the true faith a\ ith all a 
 mother's art, a mother's tenderness, into your 
 children. Then the heir to your husband's 
 estates will be a Catholic, and so the true faith 
 get rooted in the soil." 
 
 " Alas !" said Catherine, " are we to look but 
 to the worldly interests of the Church ?" 
 
 '• They are inseparable from her spiritual in-
 
 190 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 terests here on earth : our souls are not more 
 bound to our bodies." 
 
 Catherine was deeply mortified. " So the 
 Church rejects me because I am poor," said 
 she, "with a sigh. 
 
 " The Church rejects you not, but only the 
 Convent. I\ o place is less fit for 3-ou. You have 
 a liigh spirit, and high religious sentiments ; both 
 would be mortified and shocked in a nunnerv. 
 Think you that convent walls can shut out tempt- 
 ation ? I know them better than you : they are 
 strongholds of vanity, folly, tittle-tattle, and all 
 the meanest vices of your sex. Xay, I forbid 
 you to think of it: show me now your faith by 
 your obedience." 
 
 " You are harsh to me, father," said Catherine, 
 piteously. 
 
 " I am firm. You are one that need a tight 
 hand, mistress. Come now, humility and obe- 
 dience, these are the Christian graces that best
 
 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 191 
 
 become your 'youth. Say, can the Church, 
 throuo-h me its minister, count on these from 
 you, or (suddenly letting loose his diapason) did 
 you send for me to ask advice, and yet go your 
 own way; hiding a high stomach and a wilful 
 heart under a show of humility ?" 
 
 Catherine looked at Father Francis with dismay. 
 This was the first time that easy-going priest had 
 shown her how impressive he could be. She was 
 downright frightened ; and said she hoped she 
 knew better than defy her director ; she laid her 
 will at his feet ; and would obey him like a child, 
 as was her duty. 
 
 " Now I know my daughter agaiu," said he, and 
 gave her his horrible paw ; the which she kissed 
 very humbly : and that matter was settled to her 
 entire dissatisfaction. ' 
 
 Soon after that ^they Avere both summoned to 
 supper; but, as they went down, Kate's maid
 
 192 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 drew her aside, and told her a young man wanted 
 to speak to her. 
 
 " A young- man !" screamed Kate. " Hang 
 young men ! They have got me a fine scolding 
 just now. Which is it, pray ?" 
 
 " He is a stranger to me." 
 
 " Pei-haps he comes with a message from some 
 fool. You may bring him to me in the hall, 
 and stay with us ; it may be a thief for ought 
 I know." 
 
 The maid soon reappeared, followed by Mr. 
 Thomas Leicester. 
 
 That young worthy had lingered on Scutchemsee 
 Nob, to extract the last drop of enjoyment from 
 the situation, by setting up his hat at ten paces, 
 and firing the gentlemen's pistols at it. I despair 
 of conveying to any rational reader the satisfac- 
 tion, keen though brief, this afforded him : it was a 
 new sensation ; gentlemen's guns he had fired many, 
 l>ut duelling pistols not one till that bright hour.
 
 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 193 
 
 He was now come to remind Catherine of his 
 pecuniary claims. Luckily for him she was one 
 M'ho did not need to be reminded of her promises. 
 '■* Oh, it is you, child," said she : " well, I'll be as 
 good as my word." She then dismissed her maid, 
 and went uj^-stairs, and soon returned with two 
 guineas, a crown piece, and three shillings in her 
 hand. " There," said she, smiling, " I am sorry for 
 you, but that is all the money I have in the world." 
 
 The boy's eyes glittered at sight of the coin : 
 he rammed the silver into his pocket with hungry 
 rapidity. But he shook his head about the gold. 
 " I'm afeard o' these," said he : and eyed them 
 mistrustfully in his palm. " These be the friends 
 that get you your throat cut o' dark nights : 
 mistress, please keep 'em for me, and let me have 
 a shilling now and then when I'm dry." 
 . "Nay," said Kate, "but are you not afraid I 
 shall spend your money, now I have none left of 
 my own ?" 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 GRIFFITH GAUNT 
 
 Tom seemed quite struck witli the reasonable- 
 ness of tliis observation, and hesitated. However 
 he concluded to risk it. " You don't look one of 
 the sort to wrong a poor fellow," said he : " and 
 besides you'll have brass to spare of your own 
 before long, I know." 
 
 Kate opened her eyes. "Oh, indeed!" said 
 she : " and pray how do you know that ?" 
 
 Mr. Leicester favoured her with a knowing 
 wink. He gave her a moment to digest this; 
 and then said, almost in a whisper, " Hearkened 
 the gentlefolks on Scutchemseo Nob, after you 
 was gone home, mistress." 
 
 Kate was annoyed. "What! they must be 
 prating as soon as one's back is turned. Talk 
 of women's tongues ! Now what did they say, I 
 should like to know ?" 
 
 "It was about the bet, ye know." 
 " A bet ! Oh that is no affair of mine." 
 ' "Ay, but it is. Why, 'twas you they were
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 195 
 
 betting on : seems that old soger and Squire 
 Hammersley had laid three guineas to one that 
 yon should let out whioh was your fancy of them 
 two." 
 
 Kate's cheeks were red as fire now; but her 
 delicacy overpowered her curiosity, and she would 
 not put any more questions. To be sure, young 
 Hopeful needed none ; he was naturally a chatter- 
 box, and he proceeded to tell her, that as soon as 
 ever she was gone, Squire Hammersley took a 
 guinea, and offered it to the old soldier, and told 
 him he had won ; and the old soldier pocketed it. 
 But after that, somehow, Squire Hammersley let 
 drop that Mr. Neville was the favourite. " Then," 
 continued Mr. Leicester, " what does the old soger 
 do, but pull out guinea again, and says he, * You 
 must have this back ; bet is not won ; for you do 
 ' think 'tis Neville, now I do think 'tis Gaunt.' So 
 then they f<dl to argufying, and talking a lot o' 
 stuff." 
 
 2
 
 196 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 "No doubt: the insolent meddlers! Can you 
 remember any of tlieir nonsense ? not that it is 
 worth remembering, I'll be bound." 
 
 " Let me see : well, Squire Hammersley he 
 said you owned to dreaming of Squire Neville, 
 and that was a sign of love, said he ; and, besides, 
 you sided with him against t'other. But the old 
 soger he said you called Squire Gaunt ' Griffith ;' 
 and he built on that. Oh, and a said you changed 
 the horses back to please our Squire. Says he, 
 ' You must look to what the lady did ; never heed 
 what she said. Why, their sweet lips was only 
 made to kiss us, and deceive us,' says that there 
 old soger." 
 
 " I'll — I'll — and what did you say, sir ? For I 
 suppose your tongue was not idle." 
 
 " Oh, me ; I never let 'em know I was hearken- 
 ing ; or they'd have 'greed in a moment for to give 
 me a hidinn:. Besides I had no need to cud^-el 
 my brains : I'd only to ask you plumj). You'll
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. " 197 
 
 tell me, I know. Wliicli is it, mistress ? I'm for 
 Gaunt,_you know — in course. Alack, mistress," 
 gabbled this voluble youth, " sure you won't be so 
 hard as sack my squire, and him got a bullet in 
 his carcase, for love of you, this day." 
 
 Kate started, and looked at him in surprise. 
 " Oh !" said she, " a bullet ! Did they fight again 
 the moment they saw my back was turned ? The 
 cowards !" and she began to tremble. 
 
 " No, no," said Tom ; " that was done before 
 ever you came up. Don't ye remember that 
 single   shot while we were climbing the Nob ? 
 Well, 'twas Squire Gaunt got it in the arm that 
 time." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " But I say, wasn't our man game ? never let 
 out he was hit while you was there. But as soon 
 as ever you was gone, they cut the bullet out of 
 him ; and I seen it." 
 
 "Ah!— ah!"
 
 198 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 " Doctor takes out liis knife ; precious sliarp and 
 shiny 'twas ; cuts into liis arm Avith no more ado 
 than if he was carving a pullet ; out squirts the 
 blood, a good un." 
 
 " Oh, no more ! no more ! You cruel boy ; how 
 could you bear to look ?" And Kate hid her own 
 face with both hands. 
 
 *' Why, 'twasn't mij skin as was cut into. Squire 
 Gaunt he never hollered ; a winced though, and 
 ground his teeth ; but 'twas over in a minute, and 
 the bullet in his hand. ' That is for my Avife,' 
 says he : 'if ever I have one,' and puts it in his 
 2:)0cket. Why, mistress, you be as white as your 
 smock." 
 
 " No, no. Did he faint, poor soul ?" 
 
 " Not he : what was there to faint about ?" 
 
 "Then why do I feel so sick, even to hear 
 of itr" 
 
 " Because you ha' n't got no stomach," said "the 
 boy, contemptuously. " Your courage is skin deep
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 199 
 
 I'm thinking. However, I'm glad you feel for our 
 Squire, about the bullet : so now I hope you will 
 wed with Mm, and sack Squu-e Neville. Then 
 you and I shall be kind o' kin ; Squire Gaunt's 
 feyther was my feyther. That makes you stare, 
 mistress. Why, all the folk do know it. Look at 
 this here httle mole on my forehead. Squire 
 Gaunt have got the fellow to that." At this crisis 
 of his argument, he suddenly caught a glimpse of 
 his personal interest; instantly he ceased his 
 advocacy of Squire Gaunt, and became ludicrously 
 impartial. " Well, mistress ; wed whichever you 
 like," said he, with sublime indifference; "only 
 whichever you do wed, prithee speak a word to the 
 gentleman, and get me to be his gamekeeper. 
 I'd liever be your goodman's gamekeeper than 
 King of England." He was proceeding with vast 
 volubility to enumerate his qualifications for that 
 confidential post, when the lady cut him short, 
 and told him to go and get his supper in the
 
 200 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 kitchen, for slie was wanted elsewhere. He made 
 a scrape, and clattered away with his hobnailed 
 shoes. 
 
 Kate went to the hall window and opened it, 
 and let the cold air blow over her face. 
 
 Her heart was touched, and her bosom filled 
 with j)ity for her old sweetheart. 
 
 How hard she had been. She had sided with 
 Neville against the wounded mqn. And she 
 thought how sadly and patiently he had submitted 
 to her decision — and a bullet in his poor arm all 
 the time. 
 
 The gentle bosom heaved, and heaved, and the 
 tears began to run. 
 
 She entered the dining-room timidly, expecting 
 some comment on her discourteous absence. In- 
 stead of that, both her father and her director rose 
 respectfully, and received her with kind and 
 affectionate looks. They then pressed her to eat
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT, 201 
 
 this, and that, and were remarkably attentive and 
 kind. She ccuki see she was deep in their good 
 books. This pleased her ; but she watched quietly, . 
 after the manner of her sex, to learn what it was 
 all about. jSTor was she left lono- in the dark. 
 Kemarks were made that hit her, though they 
 were none of them addressed to her. 
 
 Father Francis delivered quite a little homily 
 on " Obedience," and said how happy a thing it 
 was when zeal, a virtue none too common in 
 these degenerate days, was found tempered by 
 humility, and subservient to ghostly counsel and 
 authority. 
 
 Mr. Peyton dealt in no general topics of that 
 kind; his discourse was secular: it ran upon 
 Neville's Cross, Neville's Court, and the Baro- 
 netcy : and he showed Francis how and why this 
 title must, sooner or later, come to George Neville, 
 and the heirs of his body. 
 
 Francis joined in this topic for a v.hile ; but
 
 202 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 speedily diverged into what miglit be called a 
 collateral theme. He described to Kate a delight- 
 ful spot on the Neville estate, where a nunnery 
 might be built and endowed by any good Catholic 
 lady having zeal, and influence with the owner of 
 the estate, and with the lord-lieutenant of the 
 county. 
 
 " It is three parts an island (for the river Wey 
 curls round it lovingly) ; but backed by wooded 
 slopes that keep off the north and east winds : a 
 hidden and balmy place ; such as the forefathers 
 of the Church did use to choose for their rustic 
 abbeys, whose ruins still survive to remind us of 
 the pious and glorious days gone by. Trout and 
 salmon come swimming to the door : hawthorn 
 and woodbine are as rife there as weeds be in some 
 parts ; two broad oaks stand on turf like velvet, 
 and ring with song-birds. A spot by nature 
 sweet, calm, and holy : good for pious exercises 
 and heavenly contemplation : there, methinks, if
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 203 
 
 it be God's will 1 should see old age, I would love 
 to end my own days, at peace with Heayen and 
 with all mankind." 
 
 Kate was much jnoved by this picture ; and her 
 clasped hands and glistening eyes showed the 
 glory and dehght it would be to her to build a 
 convent on so lovely a spot. But her words were 
 vague. "How sweet! how sweet!" was all she 
 committed herself to. For, after what Tom 
 Leicester had just told her, she hardly knew what 
 to say, or what to think, or what to do : she felt 
 'she had become a mere puppet, fii'st drawn one 
 way, tlien another. 
 
 One thing appeared pretty clear to her now ; 
 Father Francis did not mean her to choose between 
 her two lovers ; he was good enough to relieve 
 her of that difficulty by choosing for her. She 
 was to marry Keville. 
 
 She retired to rest directly after supper ; for she 
 was thoroughly worn out. And the moment she
 
 "204: GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 rose to go, her father bounced up, and lighted the 
 bed caudle for her M-ith novel fervour, and kissed 
 her on the cheek, and said in her ear, — " Good 
 night, my Lady Neville."
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 205 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 What with the day's excitement, and a sweet 
 secluded convent in her soul, and a bullet in her 
 bosom, and a ringing in her ear, that sounded 
 mighty like " Lady Neville ! Lady Neville ! Lady 
 Neville !" Kate spent a restless night, and woke 
 with a bad headache. 
 
 She sent her maid to excuse her, on this score, 
 from soinrr to Bolton Hall. But she was informed 
 in reply that tlio carriage had been got ready 
 expressly for her ; so she must be good enough to 
   shake off disease and go : the air would do her a 
 deal more good than lying abed. 
 
 Thereupon she dressed herself in her black silk
 
 206 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 gown, and came down, looking pale and languid, 
 but still quite lovely enougli to discharge what in 
 this age of cant I suppose we should call "her 
 .Mission;" videlicet, to set honest men by the ears. 
 At half-past eight o'clock the carriage came 
 round to the front door. Its body, all glorious 
 with the Peyton armorials, and with patches of 
 rusty gilding, swung exceedingly loose on long 
 leathern straps instead of springs, and the fore- 
 wheels were a mile from the hind- wheels ; more or 
 less. A pretentious and horrible engine ; drawn 
 by four horses ; only, two of them being ponies 
 impaired the symmetry and majestic beauty of the 
 pageant. Old Joe drove the wheelers; his boy 
 rode the leaders ; and every now and then got oft 
 and kicked them in the pits of their stomachs, or 
 pierced them with hedge-stakes, to rouse their 
 mettle. TJuis encouraged and stimulated, they 
 effected an average of four miles and a half per 
 hour, notwithstanding the snow, and reached
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 207 
 
 Bolton just in, time. At the lodge, Francis got 
 out, and lay in ambush. But only for a time. 
 He did not think it orthodox to be present at a 
 religious ceremony of his Protestant friends : nor 
 common-sense-o-dox to turn his back upon their 
 dinner. 
 
 The carriage drew up at the hall door. It was 
 wide open, and the hall lined with servants, 
 male and female, in black. In the midst, between 
 these two rows, stood G-riffith Gaunt, bareheaded, 
 to welcome the guests. His arm was in a sling. 
 He had received all tlie others in the middle of 
 the hall ; but he came to the threshold to meet 
 Kate and her father. He bowed low and respect- 
 fully ; then gave liis left hand to Kate to conduct 
 her after the formal fashion of the day. The sight 
 of his arm in a sling startled and affected her ; and 
 with him giving her his hand almost at the same 
 moment, she pressed it, or indeed squeezed it 
 nervously, and it was in her heart to say some-
 
 208 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 thing kind and womanly : but lier father was 
 close behind, and she was afraid of saying some- 
 thing too kind, if she said anytliing at all; so 
 Griffith only got a little gentle nervous pinch. 
 But that was more than he expected, and sent a 
 thrill of delight thi'ough him ; his brown eyes 
 replied with a volume, and holding her hand up 
 in the air, as high as her ear, and keeping at an 
 incredible distance, he led her solemnly to a room 
 where the other ladies were, and left her thei-e 
 with a profound bow. 
 
 The Peytons were nearly the last persons ex- 
 pected; and soon after their arrival the funeral 
 procession formed. This part was entirely arranged 
 by the undertaker. The monstrous custom of 
 forbidding ladies to follow their dead had not yet 
 occm-red even to the idiots of the nation ; and Mr. 
 Peyton and his daughter were placed in the second 
 carriage. The first contained GrifSth Gaunt alone, 
 as head mourner. But the Peytons were not
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 209 
 
 alone ; no other relation of the deceased being 
 present, the undertaker put Mr. Neville with the 
 Peytons, because he was heir to a baronetcy. 
 
 Kate was much startled, and astonished to see 
 him come out into the hall. But, when he entered 
 the carriage, she welcomed him warmly. " Oh, I 
 am so glad to see you here," said she. 
 
 " Guess by that what my delight at meeting you 
 must be," said he. 
 
 She blushed and turned it off. " I mean, that 
 your coming here gives me good hopes there will 
 be no more mischief." She then lowered her 
 voice, and begged him on no account to tell her 
 father of her ride to Scutchemsee Nob. 
 
 "Not a word," said George. He knew the 
 advantage of sharing a secret Avith a fair lady. 
 He proceeded to whisper something very warm in 
 her ear: she listened to some of it; but then 
 remonstrated, and said, " Are you not ashamed to 
 go on so at a funeral ? Oh, do pray leave com- 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 pliinents a moment, and tliink of yom- latter 
 end." 
 
 He took tliis suggestion, as indeed he did every- 
 thing from her, in good part ; and composed his 
 visage into a decent gravity. 
 
 Soon after this they reached the church, and 
 buried the deceased in his family vault. 
 
 People, who are not bereaved by the death, are 
 always inclined to chatter coming home from a 
 funeral. Kate now talked to Neville of her 
 own accord, and asked him if he had spoken 
 to his host. He said " Yes ;" and, more than 
 that, had come to a clear understanding with 
 him. " We agreed that it was no use fighting for 
 you. I said if either of us two was to kill the 
 other, it does not follow you would wed the sur- 
 vivor." 
 
 " Me wed the wretch !" said Kate. " I should 
 abhor him, and go into a convent in spite of you
 
 GPJB^FITH GAUNT. 211 
 
 all, and end my days praying for the murdered 
 man's soul." 
 
 '•'Neither of us is worth all that," suggested 
 Neville, with an accent of conviction. 
 
 " That is certain," replied the lady, di-ily ; " so 
 please not to do it." 
 
 He bade her set her mind at ease : they had 
 both agreed to try and win her by peaceful arts. 
 " Then a pretty life mine will be." 
 ♦'Well, I think it will, tHl you decide." 
 " I could easily decide, if it were not for giving 
 pain to — somebody." 
 
 ♦• Oh, you can't help that. My sweet mistress, 
 you are not the first that has had to choose be- 
 tween two wortliy men. For, in sooth, I have 
 nothing to say against my rival neither. I know 
 him better than I chd : he is a very worthy gen- 
 tleman, though he is damnably in my way." 
 " And you are a very noble one to say so." 
 "And you are one of those that make a man 
 
 r 2
 
 212 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 noble : I feel that petty arts are not the way to 
 win you, and I scorn them. Sweet Mistress Kate, 
 I adore you. You are the best and noblest, as 
 well as the lovliest of women." 
 
 " Oh, hush ! Mr. Neville, I am a creature of 
 clay ; and .you are another ; and both of us com- 
 ing home from a funeral. Do think of that" 
 
 Here they were interrupted by Mr. Peyton 
 asking Kate to lend him a shilhiig for the groom. 
 Kate replied aloud that she had left her purse at 
 home, then whispered in his ear that she had not 
 a shilling in the world : and this was strictly true ; 
 for her little all was Tom Leicester's now. With 
 this they reached the Hall, and the coy Kate gave 
 both Neville and Gaunt the slip, and got amongst 
 her mates. There her tongue went as fast as her 
 neighbours', though she had just come back fi'om 
 a funeral. 
 
 But soon the ladies and gentlemen were all 
 invited to the readino- of the Will.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 21 
 
 '> 
 
 And now chanCe, which had hitherto befriended 
 Neville by throwing him into one carriage with 
 Kate, gave Gaunt a turn. He found her a mo- 
 ment alone and near the embrasure of a window. 
 He seized the opportunity and asked her might 
 he say a word in her ear. " What a question !" 
 said she, gaily ; and the next moment they had 
 the embrasure to themselves. 
 
 "Kate," said he, hurriedly, "in a few minutes, 
 I suppose, I shall be master of this place. Now 
 you told me once you would rather be an abbess 
 or a nun than marry me." 
 
 " Did I ?" said Kate. " A^liat a sensible speech ! 
 But the worst of it is I'm never in the same mind 
 long." 
 
 " Well," replied Griffith, " I think of all that falls 
 from your lips ; and your ^^dll is mine ; only for pity's 
 sake do not wed any man but me. You have known 
 me so long ; why, you know the worst of me by tliis 
 time : and you have only seen the outside of 7«'??i."
 
 214 GRIFFITH GAUXT. 
 
 '* Detraction ! is that what you wanted to say to 
 me?" asked Kate, freezing suddenly. 
 
 "Nay, nay; it was about the abbey. I find 
 you can be an abbess without going and shutting 
 yourself up and breaking one's heart. The way 
 is, you build a convent in Ireland, and endow it ; 
 and then you send a nun over to govern it under 
 you. Bless your heart, you can do anything with 
 money ; and I shall have money enough before 
 the day is over. To be sure I did intend to build 
 a kennel and keep harriers; and you know 
 that costs a good penny : but we couldn't 
 manage a kennel and an abbey too: so now 
 down goes the English kennel and up goes the 
 Irish abbey." 
 
 "But you are a Protestant gentleman. You 
 could not found a nunnery." 
 
 " But my wife could. Whose business is it 
 what she does with her money ?" 
 
 '•' With your money, you mean."
 
 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 215 
 
 " Nay with hers, when I give it her with all mj 
 heart." 
 
 " Well, yoii astonish me," said Kate, thought- 
 fully. " Tell me, now, who put it into your head 
 to bribe a poor girl in this abominable way ?" 
 
 "Who put it into my head?" said Griffith, 
 looking rather puzzled : " why I suppose my heart 
 put it into my head." 
 
 Kate smiled very sweetly at this answer, and a 
 wild hope thi-illed through Griffith that jjerhaps 
 she might be brought to terms. 
 
 But at this crisis the lawyer from London was 
 announced, and Griffith, as master of the house, 
 was obliged to seat the company. He looked 
 bitterly disappointed at the interruption, but put 
 a e;ood face on it, and had more chairs in, and 
 saw them all seated, beginning with Kate and the 
 other ladies. 
 
 The room was spacious, and tlie entire company 
 sat in the form of a horse-shoe.
 
 216 GRIFFITH CxAUNT. 
 
 The London solicitor was introduced by Griffith 
 and bowed in a short, bnsiness-like way ; seated 
 iiimself in the horse-shoe aforesaid, and began to 
 read the will aloud. 
 
 It was a lengthy document, and there is nothing 
 to be gained by repeating every line of it. I pick 
 out a clause here and there. 
 
 " 1, Septimus Charlton, of Hernshaw Castle and 
 Bolton Grange, in the county of Cumberland, 
 Esquire, being of sound mind, memory, and under- 
 standing — thanks be to God — do make this my 
 last will and testament as follows : — First I com- 
 mit my soul to God who gave it, and my body 
 to the earth from which it came. I desire my 
 executors to discharge my funeral and testa- 
 mentary expenses, my just debts, and the legacies 
 hereinafter bequeathed, out of my personal estate." 
 
 Then followed several legacies of fiftv and one
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 217 
 
 hundred guineas. Then several small legacies; 
 such as the following : 
 
 ''To my friend Edward Peyton, of Peyton Hall, 
 Esq., ten guineas to buy a mourning ring. 
 
 " To the worshipful gentlemen and ladies who 
 shall follow my body to the grave, ten guineas 
 each, to buy a mourning ring." 
 
 "To my wife's cousin, Griffith Gaunt, I give 
 and bequeath the sum of two thousand pounds, 
 the same to be paid to him within one calendar 
 month from the date of my decease. 
 
 " And as to all my messuages, or tenements, 
 farms, lands, hereditaments, and real estate, of 
 what nature or what kind soever, and wheresoever 
 situate, together with all my monies, mortgages, 
 chattels, furniture, plate, pictures, wine, liquors, 
 horses, carriages, stock, and all the rest, residue, 
 and remainder of my personal estate and effects 
 whatsoever (after the payment of the debts and
 
 218 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 legacies hereinbefore mentioned), I give, devise, 
 and bequeatli the same to my cousin, Catherine 
 Peyton, daughter of Edward Peyton, Esq., of Pey- 
 ton Hall, in the county of Cumberland, her heirs, 
 executors, administrators, and assigns for ever." 
 
 When the lawyer read out this unexpected 
 blow, the whole company turned in theu' seats 
 and looked amazed at her, who, in a second and a 
 sentence, was turned before their eyes from the 
 poorest girl in Cumberland to an heiress in her own 
 right, and proprietor of the house they sat in, the 
 chairs they sat on, and the lav/n they looked out at. 
 
 Ay, we turn to the rising sun : very few looked 
 at Griffith Gaunt to see how he took his mistress's 
 good fortune, that was his calamity : yet his face 
 was a book full of strange matter. At first a flash 
 of loving joy crossed his countenance; but this 
 gave way immediately to a haggard look, and that 
 to a glare of despair.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 219 
 
 As for the' lady, slie cast one deprecatinpj 
 glance, smfter than lightning, at him she had 
 disinherited; and then she turned her face to 
 marble. In vain did curious looks explore her to 
 detect the delight such a stroke of fortune would 
 have given to themselves. Faulty, but great of 
 soul, and on her guard against the piercing eyes 
 of her own sex, she sat sedate, and received her 
 change of fortune vdth. every appearance of cool 
 composure and exalted indifference : and, as for 
 her dreamy eyes, they seemed thinking of Heaven 
 or something almost as many miles away from 
 money and land. 
 
 But the lawyer had not stopped a moment to 
 see how people took it, he had gone steadily on 
 through the usual formal clauses: and now he 
 brought his monotonous voice to an end, and 
 added in the same breath, but in a natural and 
 cheerful tone, " Madam, I wish you joy." 
 
 This operated like a signal : the company ex-
 
 220 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 ploded in a body ; and then they all came about 
 . the heiress, and congratulated her in turn. She 
 curtsied politely though somewhat coldly, but said 
 not a word in reply, till the disappointed one spoke 
 to her. 
 
 He lunio- back at first : to understand his feel- 
 inas it must be remembered that in this view of 
 things Kate gained nothing by this bequest com- 
 pared witli what he lost. As his wife, she would 
 have been mistress of Bolton Hall, etc. But now 
 she was placed too far above him. Sick at heart, 
 he stood aloof while they all paid their court to 
 her. But, by-and-by, he felt it would look base 
 and hostile if he alone said nothing ; so he came 
 forward, struggling visibly for composure and 
 manly fortitude. 
 
 The situation was piquant, and tlie ladies 
 tongues stopped in a moment, and they were all 
 eves and ears.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 221 
 
 CHAPTEii IX. 
 
 Griffith, with an effort he had not the skill to 
 hide, stammered out, " Mistress Kate, I do wish 
 you joy." Then with sudden and touching earnest- 
 ness, "Never did good fortune light on ono so 
 worthy of it." 
 
 "Thank you, Griffith," replied Kate, softly. 
 (She had called him ' Mr. Gaunt ' in public till 
 now.) " But money and lands do not always 
 bring content. I think I was happier a minute 
 ago than I feel now," said she, quietly. 
 
 The blood rushed into Griffith's face at this ; 
 for a minute ago might mean wlien he and she 
 were talking almost like lovers about to wed.
 
 222 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 He was so overcome by this, lie turned on liis 
 heel, and retreated hastily to liide his emotion, 
 and regain, if possible, composure to play his part 
 of host in the house that was his no longer. 
 
 Kate herself soon after retired, nominally to 
 make her toilet before dinner ; but really to 
 escape the public ; and think it all over. 
 
 The news of her advancement had spread like 
 wildfire : she was waylaid at the very door by 
 the housekeeper, who insisted on showing her her 
 house. " Nay, never mind the house," said Kate : 
 *'just show me one room where I can wash my 
 face and do my hair." 
 
 Mrs. Hill conducted her to the best bedroom : 
 it was lined with tapestry, and all the colours 
 flown ; the curtains were a deadish yellow. 
 
 " Lud ! here's a coloured room to show me 
 into," said the blonde Kate : " and a black grate, 
 too. Why not take me out o' doors vnd bid me 
 Wash in the snow ?"
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 223 
 
 " Alack, mistress," said the woman, feeling very 
 uneasy, "we bad no orders from Mr. Gaunt to 
 light fires uip stairs." 
 
 " Oh, if you wait for gentlemen's orders to 
 make your house fit to live in ! You knew there 
 were a dozen ladies coming, yet you were not 
 woman enough to light them fires. Come, take 
 me to your own bedroom." 
 
 The woman turned red : " Mine is but a small 
 room, my lady," she stammered. 
 
 "But there's a fire in it," said Kate, spite^ 
 fully. " You servants don't wait for gentlemen's 
 orders, to take care of yom'selves." 
 
 Mrs. Hill said to herself, " I'm to leave ; that 
 is flat." However, she led the way down a 
 passage, and opened the door of a pleasant little 
 room in a square turret : a large bay window 
 occupied one whole side of the room, and made 
 it inexpressibly bright and cheerful, though rather 
 hot and stuffy ; a clear coal fire burnt in the grate.
 
 224 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 "Ah!" said Kate, "how nice. Please open 
 those little windows every one. I suppose you 
 have sworn never to let wholesome air into a room. 
 Thank you: now go and forget every cross word 
 I have said to you — I am out of sorts, and nervous, 
 and irritable. There, run away, my good soul, 
 and light fires in every room ; and don't you let 
 a creature come near me, or you and I shall 
 quarrel downright." 
 
 Mrs. Hill beat a hasty retreat. Kate locked 
 the door and tln-ew herself backwards on the bed, 
 with such a weary recklessness and abandon, as if 
 she was throwing herself into the sea, to end all 
 her trouble — and burst out crying. 
 
 It was one thing to refuse to marry her old 
 sweetheai't ; it was another to take his property 
 and reduce him to poverty. But here was she 
 doing both, and going to be persuaded to marry 
 Neville, and swell his wealth with the very pos- 
 sessions she had taken from Griffith; and liim
 
 (iPJFFITH GAUNT. 225 
 
 wounded into the bargain for love of her. It 
 was really too cruel. It was an accumnlation of 
 different cruelties. Her bosom revolted : slie was 
 agitated, perplexed, irritated, unliappy, and all 
 in a tumult : and, although she had but one fit 
 of crying, — to the naked eye, — yet a person of her 
 own sex would have seen that at one moment 
 she was crying from agitated nerves, at another 
 from worry, and at the next from pity, and then 
 from irrief. 
 
 In short slie had a good long, hearty, multi- 
 form cry ; and it relieved her swelling heart so 
 far, that she felt able to go down now, and hide 
 her feelings, one and all, from friend and foe ; to 
 do which was, unfortunately, a part of her nature. 
 
 She rose and plunged her face into cold water, 
 and then smoothed her hair. 
 
 . Now, as she stood at the glass, two familiar 
 voices came in through the open window, and 
 arrested her attention directly. It was her father 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 22G - GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 conversing with Griffith Gaunt. Kate pricked up 
 her quick cars and listened, with her back hair 
 in her hand. She caught the subject of their 
 talk, only now and then she missed a word or 
 two. 
 
 ]\Ii'. Peyton was speaking rather kindly to 
 Griffith, and tellinfic him ho was as sorrv for his 
 disap2^ointment as any father could be mIioso 
 daughter had just come into a fortune. But then 
 he went on and rather spoiled tliis by asking 
 Griffith bluntly what on earth had ever made him 
 think Mr. Charlton intended to leave him Bolton 
 and Hernshaw. 
 
 Griffith replied, with manifest agitation, tliat 
 Ml'. Charlton had repeatedly told him he was to 
 be his heir. " Not," said Griffith, " that he meant 
 to Avrong Mistress Kate, neither : poor old man, 
 ho always thought she and I should be one." 
 
 "Ah ! well," said Squire Peyton, coolly, '•' ilsere 
 is an end of all tliat now."
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. . 227 
 
 At this observation Kate glided to the window, 
 and laid her cheek on the sill to listen more 
 closely. 
 
 But Griffith made no reply. 
 
 Mr. Peyton seemed dissatisfied at his silence, 
 and being a person who, notwithstanding a certain 
 superficial good-nature, saw his own side of a 
 question very big, and his neighbour's very httle, 
 he was harder than perhaps he intended to be. 
 ; "Why, Master Gaunt," said he, "surely you 
 would not follow my daughter now ; to feed upon 
 a woman's bread. Come, be a man ; and, if you 
 are the girl's friend, don't stand "in her light. 
 You know she can wed your betters, and clap 
 Bolton Hall on to Neville's Court. No doubt it is 
 a disappointment to you : but what can't be cured 
 must be endured ; pluck up a bit of courage, 
 and turn your heart another way; and then I 
 shall always be a good friend to you, and my doors 
 open to you come when you will." 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 Griffith made no reply. Kate strained her 
 ears, but could not hear a syllable. A tremor ran 
 through her. >She was in distance farther from 
 Griffith than her father was ; but superior intelli- 
 gence provided her with a bridge from her window 
 to her old servant's mind. And now she felt that 
 this great silence was the silence of despair. 
 
 But the Squire pressed him for a definite 
 answer ; and finally insisted on one. " Come, don't 
 be sulky," said he ; " I'm her father : give me an 
 answer, ay or no." 
 
 Then Kate heard a violent sigh, and out rushed 
 a torrent of words that each seemed tinged with 
 blood from the unfortunate speaker's heart. " Old 
 man," he almost shrieked, " what did I ever do to 
 you that you torment me so ? Sure you were 
 born without bowels. Beggared but an hour 
 agone, and now you must come and tell me I 
 have lost her by losing house and lands ! D'ye 
 think I need to be told it ? She was too far above
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 229 
 
 me before, and now she is gone quite out of my 
 reach. But why come and fling it in my 
 face? Can't you give a poor undone man one 
 hour to draw his breath in trouble ? And, when 
 you know I have got to play the host this bitter 
 day, and smile, and smirk, and make you all 
 merry, with my heart breaking. Oh Christ, look 
 down and pity me, for men are made of stone ! 
 Well, then, no ; I will not, I cannot, say the word, 
 to give her up. She will discharge me, and then 
 I'll fly the country, and never trouble you more. 
 And to think that one little hour ago she was 
 so kind, and I was so happy : Ah, sir, if you were 
 born of a woman, have a little pity, and don't 
 speak to me of her at all one way or other. 
 What are you afraid of ? I am a gentleman and 
 a man, though sore my trouble : I shall not run 
   after the lady of Bolton Hall. Why, sir, I have 
 ordered the servants to set her chair in the 
 middle of the table, where I shall not be able to
 
 230 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 speak to her, or even see lier. Indeed I dare not 
 look at her : for I must be meny. Merry ! ]\Iy 
 arm it worries me, my head it aches, my heart is 
 sick to death. Man ! man ! show me some little 
 grace, and do not torture me more than flesh and 
 blood can bear." 
 
 '' You are mad, young sir," said the Squire, 
 sternly, '•' and want locking up on bread and water 
 for a month." 
 
 "I am almost mad," said Griffith, humbly. 
 " But if you would only let me alone, and not tear 
 my heart out of my body, I could hide my agony 
 from the whole pack of ye, and go through my 
 part like a man. I wish I was lying where I laid 
 my only friend this afternoon." 
 
 " Oh ! I don't want to speak to you," said 
 Peyton, angrily ; " and, by the same token, don't 
 you speak to my daughter any more." 
 
 " Well, sir, if she sj)eaks to me I shall be sure 
 to speak to her, without asking your leave or any
 
 GEiFFITH GAUNT. 231 
 
 man's. Eiit I will not force m3'sclf upon the lady 
 of Bolton Hall ; don't you think it. Only for 
 God's sake let me alone. I want to be by myself." 
 And, with, this, he hurried away, unable to bear it 
 any more. 
 
 Peyton gave a hostile and contemptuous snort, 
 and also turned on his heel, and went off in the 
 opposite direction. The effect of this dialogue on 
 the listener was not to melt, but exasperate her. 
 Perhaps she had just cried away her stock of 
 tenderness. At any rate, she rose from her 
 ambush a very basilisk ; her eyes, usually so 
 languid, flashed fire, and lier forehead Avas red 
 with indignation. She bit her lip, and clenched 
 her hands, and her little foot beat the ground 
 swiftly. 
 
 She was still in this state when a timid tap 
 came to the door, and Mrs. Hill asked her pardon, 
 but dinner w"as ready, and the ladies and gentle- 
 men all a waiting for her to sit down.
 
 232 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 This reminded Kate she Avas the mistress of the 
 house. She answered civilly she would be down 
 immediately. She then took a last look in the 
 glass ; and her own face startled her. 
 
 " No," she thought ; " they shall none of them 
 know nor guess what I feel." And she stood 
 before the glass and deliberately extracted all 
 emotion from her countenance, and by way of 
 preparation screwed on a spiteful smile. 
 
 When she had got her face to her mind, she 
 went down stairs. 
 
 The gentlemen awaited her with imj^atience, 
 the ladies with curiosity, to see how she would 
 comport herself in her new situation. She entered, 
 made a formal curtsy, and was conducted to her 
 seat by Mr. Gaunt, He placed her in the middle 
 of the table. " I play the host for this one day," 
 said he, with some dignity ; and took the bottom 
 of the table himself. 
 
 Mr. Hammersley was to have sat on Kate's left,
 
 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 233 
 
 but the sly Neville persuaded liim to cbauge, and 
 so got next to liis inamorata : opposite to her sat 
 her father, Major Eiekards, and others unknown 
 to fame. 
 
 Neville was in high spirits. He had the good 
 taste to try and hide his satisfaction at the fatal 
 blow his rival had received, and he entirely avoided 
 the topic ; but Kate saw at once, by his demure 
 complacency, he was delighted at the turn things 
 had taken ; and he gained nothing by it : he 
 found her a changed girl. Cold monosyllables 
 were all he could extract from her. He returned 
 to the charge a hundred times with indomitable 
 gallantry, but it was no use. Cold, haughty, 
 sullen ! 
 
 Her otherneighbour fared little better ; and in 
 short the lady of the house made a vile impres- 
 sion. She was an iceberg : a beautiful kill-joy : a 
 wet blanket of charming texture. 
 
 And presently Nature began to co-operate with
 
 234 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 lior : long before sunset it grew prodigiously dark ; 
 and the cause was soon revealed by a fall of snow 
 in flakes as large as a biscuit. A shiver ran 
 tlirough the people ; and old Peyton blurted out, 
 " I shall not go home to-night." Then he bawled 
 across the table to his daughter : " You are at 
 home. We will stay and take possession." 
 
 " Oh, papa !" said Kate, reddening with disgust. 
 
 But if dulness reigned around the lady of the 
 house, it was not so everywhere : loud bursts of 
 merriment were heard at tlie bottom of the table. 
 Kate glanced that way in some surprise, and 
 found it was Griffith making the company meriy ; 
 GrifQth of all people. 
 
 The laughter broke out at short intervals, and 
 by-and-by became uproarious and constant. At 
 last she looked at Neville inquiringly. 
 
 *' Our worthy host is setting us an example of 
 conviviality," said he. " He is getting drunk." 
 
 " Oh, I hope not," said Kate. " Has he no
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. -^oO 
 
 friend to tell liim not to make a fool of him- 
 self?" 
 
 " You take a great interest in liim," said Neville, 
 
 bitterly. 
 
 " Of course I do. Pray do you desert your 
 friends when ill luck falls on tliem ?" 
 
 " Nay, Mistress Kate, I hope not." 
 
 "You only triumph over the misfortunes of 
 your enemies, eh ?" said the stinging beauty. 
 
 " Not even that. And, as foi; Mr. Gaunt, I am 
 not his enemy." 
 
 "Oh no, of course not. You are his best 
 friend. Witness his arm at this moment." 
 
 "I am his rival ; but not his enemy : I'll give 
 you a proof." Then he lowered his voice, and 
 said in her ear : " You are grieved at his losing 
 Bolton ; and, as you are very generous, and noble- 
 'minded, you are all the more grieved because his 
 loss is your gain." (Kate blushed at this shrewd 
 hit.) Neville went on : " You don't like him
 
 236 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 Mell enough to many liim ; and, since you cannot 
 make liim happy, it hurts your good heart to 
 make him poor." 
 
 " It is you for reading a lady's neart," said 
 Kate, ironically. 
 
 George proceeded steadily. " I'll show you an 
 easy way out of tliis dilemma." 
 
 " Thank you," said Kate, rather insolently. 
 
 " Give Mr. Gaunt Bolton and Hernshaw, and 
 give me— your hand." 
 
 Kate turned and looked at him with surprise : 
 she saw by his eye it was no jest. For all that, 
 she effected to take it as one. " That would be 
 long and short division," said she : but her voice 
 faltered in saying it. 
 
 *' So it would," replied George, coolly ; " for 
 Bolton and Hernshaw both are not worth one 
 finger of that hand I ask of you. But the value 
 of things lies in the mind that weighs 'em. Mi*. 
 Gaunt, you see, values Bolton and Hernshaw
 
 : GRIFFITH GAUNT. 237 
 
 very highly ; wTiy, he is in despair at losing them. 
 Lool: at him; ho is getting rid of his reason 
 before your very eyes, to drown his disappoint- 
 ment." 
 
 "Oh, that is it, is it?" And, strange to say, 
 she looked rather relieved. 
 
 " That is it, believe me : it is a way we men 
 have. But, as I was saying, I don't care one 
 straw for Bolton and Hernshaw. It is you I love ; 
 not your land nor your house, but your sweet self: 
 so give me that, and let the lawyers make over 
 this famous house and lands to Mr. Gaunt. His 
 antagonist I have been in the field, and his rival I 
 am and must be, but not his enemy, you see, and 
 not his ill-"\vislier." 
 
 Kate was softened a little. " This is all miglity 
 romantic," said she, " and very like a preux che- 
 valier, as you are ; but you know very well he 
 would flino; land and house in vonr face if you 
 offered them him on these terms."
 
 238 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 " Ay, in my face if I offered them ; but not in 
 yours if you." 
 
 " 1 am sure he Avould, all the same." 
 
 " Try him." 
 
 " What is the use ?" 
 
 " Try him." 
 
 Kate showed symptoms of uneasiness. " Well, 
 I will," said she, stoutly. " No, that I will not. 
 You begin by bribing me ; and then you Avould 
 set me to bribe him." 
 
 " It is the only way to make two honest men 
 happy." 
 
 ''If I thought that?" 
 
 " You know it. Try him." 
 
 " And suppose he says nay ?" 
 
 " Then we shall be no worse than we are." 
 
 " And suppose he says ay ?" 
 
 " Then he will wed Bolton Hall and Hernshaw ; 
 and the pearl of England will wed me." 
 
 " I have a great mind to take you at your
 
 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 239 
 
 word," said Kate ; '•' but no ; it is really too inde- 
 licate." 
 
 George Neville fixed his eyes on her. "Are 
 you not deceiving yourself ?" said he. "Do you 
 not like Mr. Gaunt better than you think? I 
 begin to fear you daro not put him to this test : * 
 you fear his love would not stand it ?" 
 
 Kate coloured high, and tossed her head 
 proudly. 
 
 "How shrewd you gentlemen are," she said. 
 "Much you know of a lady's heart. Now the 
 truth is I don't know what might happen were I 
 to do what you bid me. Nay, I'm wiser than you 
 would have me, and I'll pity Mr. Gaunt at a safe 
 distance, if you please, sir." 
 
 Neville bowed gravely : he felt sure this was a 
 plausible evasion ; and that she really was afraid 
   to apply his test to his rival's love. 
 
 So now for the first time he became silent and 
 reserved by her side. The change was noticed by
 
 240 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 Father Francis, and he fixed a grave rcmonstratiiig 
 glance on Kate. She received it, understood it, 
 affected not to notice it, and acted upon it. 
 
 Drive a donkey too hard ; it kicks. 
 
 Drive a man too hard ; it hits. 
 
 Drive a woman too hard ; it cajoles. 
 
 Now amongst tliem they had driven Kate Pey- 
 ton too Jiard ; so she secretly formed a bold reso- 
 Intion ; and, this done, her whole manner changed 
 for the better. She turned to Neville, and flattered 
 and fascinated him. The most feline of her sex 
 could scarcely equal her calinerie on this occasion. 
 But she did not confine her fascination to him. 
 She broke out, pro bono publico, like the sun in 
 April, with quips and cranks and dimpled smiles, 
 and made everybody near her quite forget her late 
 hauteur and coldness, and bask in this sunny 
 sweet hostess. When the charm was at its height, 
 the Siren cast a seeming merry glance at Griffith, 
 and said to a lady opposite, " Methinks some of
 
 GEIFFITII GAUNT. 241 
 
 the gentlemen will be glad to be rid of ns," and 
 so carried the ladies off to the drawiii2:-room. 
 
 There, her first act was to dismiss her smiles 
 without ceremony, and her second was to sit down 
 and write four lines to the gentleman at the head 
 of the dining-table.- 
 
 And he was as drunk as a fiddler. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 242 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 GtRIFFITh's friends laughed [^lieartily with him 
 while he was getting drunk, and, when he had got 
 drunk, they laughed still louder, only at him. 
 
 They " knocked him down " for a song ; and he 
 sang a rather Anacreontic one very melodiously, 
 and so loud that certain of the servants, listening 
 outside, derived great delectation from it ; and 
 Neville applauded ironically. 
 
 Soon after, they "knocked him down" for a 
 story ; and, as it requires more brains to tell a 
 story than, to sing a song, the poor butt made an 
 ass of himself: he maundered and wandered, and 
 stopped, and went on, and ' lost one thread and
 
 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 243 
 
 took up and another, and got into a perfect maze. 
 And, while he was thus entangled, a servant came 
 in and brought him a note, and put it in his hand. 
 The unhappy narrator received it with a sapient 
 nod, but was too polite or else too stupid to open 
 it ; so closed his fingers on it and wont maunder- 
 ing on till his story trickled into the sand of 
 the desert, and somehow ceased ; for it could not 
 be said to end, being a thing without head or 
 tail. 
 
 He sat down amidst derisive cheers. About 
 five minutes afterwards, in some intermittent 
 flash of reason, he found he had got hold of some- 
 thing. He opened his hand, and lo, a note ! On 
 this ho chuckled unreasonably, and distributed 
 sage, cunning, winks around, as if ho by special 
 ingenuity had caught a nightingale, or the like ; 
 then with sudden hauteur and gravity proceeded 
 to examine his prize. 
 
 But he knew the handwriting at once, and It 
 
 lb *J
 
 244 GllIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 gave him a galvanic shock that half sobered him 
 for the moment. 
 
 He opened the note and spelled it with great 
 difficulty ; it was beautifully written in long, clear 
 letters ; but then those letters kept dancing so. 
 
 " I much desire to speak to you before 'tis too 
 late ; but can think of no way save one ; I lie in 
 the turreted room : come under my window at 
 nine of the clock ; and prithee come sober, if you 
 resj)ect yourself, or 
 
 « Kate." 
 
 Griffith put the note in his pocket, and tried to 
 think. But he could not think to much j^urpose. 
 Then this made him suspect he was drunk. Then 
 he tried to be sober ; but he found he could not. 
 He sat in a sort of stupid agony, with Love and 
 Drink battling for his brain. It was piteous to 
 see the poor fool's struggles to regain the reason he
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 245 
 
 had so madly parted with. He could not do it ; 
 and, when he found that, ho took up a finger- 
 glass and gravely poured the contents upon his 
 head. 
 
 At this there was a burst of laughter. 
 
 This irritated Mr. Gaunt, and, with that rapid 
 chano-e of sentiments which marks the sober 
 savage and the drunken European, he offered to 
 fiaht a gentleman he had been hitherto holding 
 up to the company as his best friend. But his 
 best friend (a very distant acquaintance) was by 
 this time as tipsy as himself, and offered a piteous 
 disclaimer, mingled with tears ; and these maudlin 
 drops so affected Griffith that he flung his one 
 available arm round his best friend's head, and 
 wept in turn ; and down went both their lachry- 
 mose, empty noddles on the table. Griffith's 
 ■remained there ; but his best friend extricated 
 himself, and, shaking his skull, said, dolefully, 
 " He is very drunk." This notable discovery,
 
 246 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 coming from such a quarter, caused considerable 
 merriment. 
 
 " Let him alone," said an old toper ; and 
 GrifSth remained a good hour with his head on 
 the table. Meantime the other o-entlemen soon 
 put it out of their power to ridicule him on the 
 score of intoxication. 
 
 Griffith, keeping quiet, got a little better, and 
 suddenly started up with a notion he was to go^to 
 Kate this very moment. He muttered an excuse, 
 and staggered to a glass door that led to the lawn ; 
 he opened this door, and rushed out into the open 
 air. He thought it would set him all right : but, 
 instead of that, it made him so much worse that 
 resently his legs came to a misunderstanding, 
 and he measured his length on the ground, and 
 could not get up again, but kept slipping down. 
 
 Upon this he groaned and lay quiet. 
 
 Now there was a foot of snow on the ground, 
 and it melted about Griffith's hot temples and
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 247 
 
 flushed face, and miglitily refreslied and revived 
 
 him. 
 
   He sat up and kissed Kate's letter, and Love 
 
 began to get the upper hand of Liquor a little. 
 
 Finally he got up, and half strutted, half stag- 
 gered to the turret, and stood under Kate's wm- 
 dow. 
 
 The turret was covered with luxuriant ivy, and 
 that ivy with snovf. So the glass of the windovv^ 
 was set in a massive frame of winter ; but a bright 
 fire bm-ned inside the room, and this set the panes 
 all aflame. It was cheery and glorious to see the 
 window glow like a sheet of transparent fire in its 
 deep frame of snow ; but Griffith could not appre- 
 ciate all that. He stood there a sorrowful man. 
 The wine he had taken to drown his despair had 
 lost its stimulating effect, and had given him a 
 • heavy head, but left him his sick heart. 
 
 He stood and puzzled his drowsy faculties why 
 Kate had sent for him. Was it to bid liim good-
 
 248 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 bye for ever ; or to lessen his misery by telling 
 him she would not marry another? He soon 
 gave up cudgelling liis enfeebled brains ; Kate was 
 a superior being to him, and often said things, and 
 did things, that surprised him. She had sent for 
 him, and that was enough ; he should see her, and 
 speak to her once more, at all events. He stood, 
 alternately nodding and looking up at her glowing 
 room, and longing for its owner to appear. But, 
 as Bacchus had inspired him to mistake eight 
 o'clock for nine, and as she was not a votary of 
 Bacchus, she did not appear ; and he stood there 
 till he began to shiver. 
 
 The shadow of a female passed along the wall, 
 and Griffith gave a great start. Then he heard 
 the fire poked. Soon after he saw the shadow 
 again ; but it had a large servant's cap on ; so his 
 heart had beaten high for Mary or Susan. He 
 hung his head disappointed ; and, holding on by 
 the ivv, fell a uoddino; again.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 249 
 
 By-and-by one of the little casements was 
 opened softly. He looked up, and there was the 
 right face peering out. 
 
 Oh, what a picture she was in the moonlight 
 and the firelight ! They both fought for that fair 
 head, and each got a share of it : the full moon's 
 silvery beams shone on her rose-like cheeks and 
 lilyfied them a shade, and lit her great grey eyes 
 and made them gleam astoundingly; but the ruby 
 firelight rushed at her from behind, and flowed 
 over her golden hair, and reddened and glorified 
 it till it seemed more than mortal. And all this 
 in a very picture-frame of snow. 
 
 Imagine, then, how sweet and glorious she 
 glowed on him who loved her, and who looked at 
 her perhaps for the last time. 
 
 The sight did wonders to clear his head; ho 
 stood open-mouthed, with his heart beating. She 
 looked him all over a moment. " Ah !" said she. 
 Then, quietly, "I am so glad you are come."
 
 250 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 Then, kindly and regretfully, "How pale you 
 look ! you are unhappy." 
 
 This gi*eeting, so gentle and kind, overpowered 
 Griffith. His heart was too full to speak. 
 
 Kate waited a moment ; and then, as he did not 
 reply to her, she began to plead to him. " I hope 
 you are not angry with me" she said. " I did not 
 want him to leave me your estates. I would not 
 rob you of them for the world, if I Iiad my way." 
 
 "Angry with you!" said Griffith. "I'm not 
 such a villain. Mr. Charlton did the right thing, 
 and " He could say no more. 
 
 "I do not think so," said Kate. "But don't 
 you fi-et : all shall be settled to your satisfaction. 
 I cannot quite love you, but I have a sincere 
 affection for you ; and so I ought. Cheer up, dear 
 Griffith; don't you be down-heaited about what 
 has happened to-day." 
 
 Griffith smiled. "I don't feel unhappy," he 
 said ; " I did feel as if my heart was broken. But
 
 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 251 
 
 then you seeflied parted from me. Now we are 
 together I feel as happy as ever. Mistress, don't 
 you ever shut that window and leave me in the 
 dark again. Let me stand and look at your sweet 
 face all night, and I shall be the happiest man in 
 Cumberland." 
 
 " Ay," said Kate, blushing at his ardour ; 
 " happy for a single night ; but when I go away 
 you will be in the dumps again, and perhaps get 
 tipsy; as if that could mend matters. Nay, I 
 must set your happiness on stronger legs than 
 that. Do you know I have got permission to 
 undo this cruel will, and let you have Bolton Hall 
 and Hernshaw again ?" 
 
 Griffith looked pleased, but rather puzzled. 
 
 Kate went on, but not so glibly now. " How- 
 ever," said slie, a little nervously, " there is one 
 condition to it that Avill cost us both some pain. If 
 you consent to accept these two estates from me, 
 who don't value them one straw, why then "
 
 252 GBIFFITII GAUNT. 
 
 She hesitated. 
 
 " Well, what ?" he gasped. 
 
 " Why, then, my poor Griffith, we shall be 
 bound in honour, — you and I, — not to meet for 
 some months : perhaps for a whole year : in one 
 ^Yord — do not hate me — not till you can bear to 
 see me — another — man's — wife." 
 
 The murder being out, she hid her face in her 
 hands directly, and in that attitude awaited his reply. 
 
 Griffith stood petrified a moment ; and I don't 
 think his intellects were even yet quite clear 
 enouo^h to take it all in at once. But at last he 
 did comprehend it, and, when he did, he just 
 uttered a loud cry of agony, and then tm-ned his 
 back on her without a word. 
 
 Man does not speak by words alone. A mute 
 glance of reproach has ere now pierced the heart 
 a tirade would have left untouched ; and even an 
 inarticulate cry may utter volumes.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. ZOo 
 
 Sucli an eloquent cry was that with which 
 Griffith Gaunt turned liis back upon the angelical 
 face he adored, and the soft persuasive tongue. 
 There was a2:onv, there was shame, there was 
 wrath, all in that one ejaculation. 
 
 It frio'htened Kate. She called him back. 
 " Don't leave me so," she said. " I know I have 
 affronted you ; but I meant all for the best. Do 
 not let us part in anger." 
 
 At this Griffith returned in violent agitation. 
 " It is your fault for making me speak," he cried 
 "I was going away without a word, as a man 
 should, that is insulted by a woman. You heart- 
 less girl! What I you bid me sell you to that 
 man for two dirty farms ! Oh, well you Ivuow 
 Bolton and Hernshaw were but the steps by which 
 I hoped to climb to you : and now you tell me to 
 part with you, and take those miserable acres 
 instead of my darling. Ah ! mistress, you have 
 never loved : or you would hate yourself and
 
 254 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 clesj)ise yourself for wliat you have clone. Love ! 
 if you had known what that word means, you 
 couldn't look in my face and stab me to the heart 
 like this. God forgive you ! And sure I hope he 
 will ; for after all, it is not your fault that you 
 were born without a heart. Why, Kate, you aee 
 
 CRYING."
 
 • GRIFFITH GAUNT. 255 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 " Crying !" said Kate. " I could cry my eyes out 
 to tliink what I have done ; but it is not my fault : 
 tliey egged me on. I knew you would fling those 
 two miserable things in my face if I did, and I 
 said so ; but they would be vdser than mo, and 
 insist on my putting you to the proof." 
 
 "They? Who is they ?" 
 
 "No matter. Whoever it was they will gain 
 nothing by it, and you will lose nothing. Ah, 
 Griffith, I am so ashamed of myself — and so proud 
 of you." 
 
 " They ?" repeated Griffith, suspiciously. « AVho 
 is this they ?"
 
 25G GEIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 " What does that matter, so long as it was not 
 Me ? Are you going to be jealous again ? Let 
 us talk of you and me, and never mind who them 
 is. You have rejected my proposal with just 
 scorn ; so now let me hear yours ; for we must 
 agree on something this very night. Tell me, 
 now, what can I say or do to make you 
 happy ?" 
 
 Griffith was sore puzzled. " Alas ! sweet Kate," 
 said he, " I don't know what you can do for me 
 now, except stay single for my sake." 
 
 " I should like nothing better," replied Kate, 
 warmly ; " but unfortunately they won't let me 
 do that. Father Francis will be at me to-morrow, 
 and insist on my marrying Mr. Neville." 
 " But you will refuse." 
 " I would, if I could but find a good excuse." 
 "Excuse? why, say you don't love him." 
 " Oh, they won't allow that for a reason." 
 " Then I am undone," sighed Griffith.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 2o7 
 
 " No, no, you are not ; if I could be brouglit to 
 pretend I love somebody else. And really, if I 
 don't quite love you, I like you too well to let you 
 be unhappy. Besides, I cannot bear to rob you 
 of these unlucky farms : I think there is nothing 
 I would not do rather than that. I think — I 
 would rather — do — something very silly indeed. 
 But I suppose you don't want me to do that now ? 
 Why don't you ansAver me ? Why don't you say 
 something ? Are you drunk, sir, as they pretend ? 
 or are you asleep ? Oh, I can't speak any plainer : 
 this is intolerable. Mr. Gaunt, I'm going to shut 
 the window." 
 
 Griffith got alarmed, and it sharpened his wits. 
 "Kate, Kate!" he cried, "what do you mean? 
 am I in a dream ? would you marry poor me 
 after all ?" 
 
 " How on earth can I tell, till I am asked ?" 
 incpiired Kate, with an air of childlike innocence, 
 and inspecting the stars attentively. 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 " Kate, will you marry me ?" said Griffith, all in 
 a flutter. 
 
 " Of com-se I will — if you will let me," replied 
 Kate, coolly, but rather tenderly, too. 
 
 Griffith burst into raptures; Kate listened to 
 them with a complacent smile ; then delivered 
 herself after this fashion : — " You have very little 
 to thank me for, dear Griffith. I don't exactly 
 downright love you ; but I could not rob you of 
 those unlucky farms, and you refuse to take them 
 back any way but this ; so what can I do ? And 
 then, for all I don't love you, I find I am always 
 unhappy if you are unhappy, and happy when you 
 are happy ; so it comes pretty much to the same 
 thing. I declare I am sick of giving you pain, 
 and a little sick of crying in consequence. There, 
 I have cried more in the last fortnight than in all 
 my life before, and you know nothing spoils one's 
 beauty like crying : and then you are so good, 
 and kind, and true/ and brave ; and everybody is so
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 259 
 
 unjust, and so unkind to you ; papa and all. Yon 
 were quite in the right about the duel, dear ; he is 
 an impudent puppy ; and I threw dust in your 
 eyes, and made you own you were in the wrong ; 
 and it was a great shame of me ; but it was 
 because I liked you best. I could take liberties 
 with i/ou, dear. And you are wounded for me ; 
 and now I have disinherited you ; oh, I can't bear 
 it, and I won't. My heart yearns for you ; bleeds 
 for you. I would rather die than you should be 
 unhappy ; I would rather follow yon in rags round 
 the world than marry a prince and make you 
 wretched. Yes, dear, I am yours. Make me 
 your wife ; and then some day I daresay I shall 
 love you as I ought." 
 
 She had never showed her heart to him like this 
 before ; and now it overpowered him. So, being- 
 also a little under vinous influence, he stammered 
 out something, and then fairly blubbered with joy. 
 Then what does Kate do, but cry for company, 
 
 s 2
 
 200 GEiyFITH GAUNT. 
 
 Presently, to lier surprise, lie was half way up 
 the turret, coming to her. 
 
 '' Oh, take care ! take care !" she cried. *' You'll 
 break your neck." 
 
 "Nay," cried he, '• I must come at you, if I die 
 for it." 
 
 The turret was ornamented from top to bottom 
 with short ledges consisting of half bricks. This 
 ledge, shallow as it w<as, gave a slight foothold, 
 insufficient in itself, but he grasped the strong 
 branches of the ivy with a powerful hand ; and so 
 between the two contrived to get up and hang 
 himself out close to her. 
 
 '•'Sweet mistress," said he, " put out 5'our hand 
 to mo ; for I can't take it against your will this 
 time ; I have got but one arm." 
 
 But this she declined. " No, no," said she ; " you 
 do nothing but torment and terrify me,— there." 
 And so, gave it him ; and he mumbled it. 
 
 This last feat v/on her quite. She thought no
 
 GKIFFITH GAUxNT. 261 
 
 other man could have got to her there, with two 
 arms, and Griffitli had done it with one. She 
 said J to herself, " How he loves me ! more 
 tlian his own neck." And then she thought, 
 " I shall be wife to a strong man ; that is one 
 comfort." 
 
 In this softened mood she asked him demurely, 
 would he take a friend's advice. 
 
 " If that friend is you, ay.' 
 
 " Then," said she, " I'll do a downright brazen 
 thing, now my hand is in. I declare I'll tell you 
 how to secure me. You make me plight my 
 troth with you this minute, and exchange rings 
 with you, lolietlicr I like or not; engage my 
 honour in this foolish business, and, if you do 
 that, I really do think you will have me in spite 
 of them all. But there — la ! — am I worth all this 
 • trouble ?" 
 
 Griffith did not share this chilling doubt. He 
 poured forth his gratitude, and then told her he
 
 262 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 had got his mother's ring on his finger ; " I meant 
 to ask you to wear it," said he. 
 
 " And why didn't you ?" 
 
 " Because vou became an heiress all of a sud- 
 den." 
 
 " Well, what signifies which of us has the dross, 
 so that there is enough for both ?" 
 
 " That is true," said Griffith, approving his own 
 sentiment, but not recognizing; his owni words. 
 "Here's my mother's ring, on my little finger, 
 sweet mistress. But I must ask you to draw it off, 
 for I have but one hand." 
 
 Kate made a wry face. " Well, that is my fault," 
 said she, " or I would not take it from you so." 
 
 She drew off his ring, and put it on her finger. 
 Then she gave him her largest ring, and had to 
 put it on his little finger for him. 
 
 " You are making a very forward girl of me," 
 said she, pouting exquisitely. 
 
 He kissed her hand while she was doino; it.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 263 
 
 "Don't you be so silly," said she; "and, you 
 liorrid creature, how you smell of wine ! The 
 bullet, please." 
 
 "The bullet!" exclaimed Griffith. "\Yhat 
 bullet?" 
 
 " The bullet. The one you were wounded with 
 for my sake. I am told you put it in your pocket ; 
 and I see something bulge in your waistcoat ; that 
 bullet belongs to me now." 
 
 " I think you are a witch," said he. " I do 
 carry it about next my heart. Take it out of my 
 waistcoat, if you will be so good." 
 
 She blushed, and declined, and with the refusal 
 on her very lips, fished it out with her taper 
 fingers. She eyed it with a sort of tender horror. 
 The sight of it made her feel faint a moment. 
 She told him so : and that she would keep it to 
 her dying day. Presently her delicate finger 
 found something was written on it ; she did not 
 ask him what it was, but withdrew, and exammed
 
 264 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 it bv her candle. Griffith had ensrraved it with 
 these words : 
 
 "I LOVE KATE." 
 
 He looked through the wiDdow, and saw her 
 examine it by the caudle. As she read the in- 
 scription, her face, glorified by, the light, assumed 
 a celestial tenderness he had never seen it wear 
 before. 
 
 She came back and leaned eloquently out as if 
 she would fly to him. 
 
 " Ah, Griffith ! Griffith !" she murmured ; and, 
 somehow or other, their lips met in spite of all the 
 difficulties, and grew together in a long and tender 
 embrace. 
 
 It was the first time she had ever ffiven him 
 more than her hand to kiss; and the rapture 
 repaid him for all. 
 
 But, as soon as she had made this great advance, 
 virginal instinct suggested a proportionate retreat.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUKT. 2G5 
 
 " Yoli must go to be J," she said, austerely ; 
 " you -will catch your death of cold out here." 
 
 He remonstrated : she insisted. He held out : 
 she smiled sweetly in his face, and shut the 
 window in it pretty sharply, and disappeared. He 
 went disconsolately down his ivy ladder. As soon 
 as he was at the bottom, she opened the window 
 again, and asked him, demurely, if he would do 
 something to oblige her. 
 
 He replied like a lover ; he was ready to be cut 
 in pieces, drawn asunder with wild horses, and so 
 on. 
 
 " Oh, I know you would do anything stupid for 
 me," said she ; " but will you do something clevei^ 
 for a poor girl that is in a fright at wl>at she is 
 going to do for you ?" 
 
 " Give your orders, mistress," said Griffith ; 
 " and don't talk of me obliging you. I feel quite 
 ashamed to hear you talk so : to-night especially." 
 
 " Well, then," said Kate, " first and foremost, I
 
 266 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 want you to throw yourself on Fatlier Francis's 
 neck." 
 
 " I'll throw myself on Father Francis's neck," 
 said GrifSth, stoutly. " Is that all ?" 
 
 " No ; nor half. Once upon his neck you must 
 say something. There — I had better settle the 
 very Avords, or perhaps you will make a mess of 
 it. Say after me now : Oh, Father Francis, 'tis to 
 vou I owe her." 
 
 " Oh, Father Francis, 'tis to you I owe her." 
 
 " You and I are friends for life." 
 
   " You and I are friends for life." 
 
 " And mind, there is always a bed in our home 
 for you, and a plate at our table, and a right 
 welcome, come when you will." 
 
 Griffith repeated this last correctly ; but, when 
 requested to say the whole, broke down. Kate 
 had to repeat the oration a dozen times ; and he 
 said it after her, like a Sunday-school scholar, 
 till he had it pat.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUXT. 267 
 
 The task achieved, he iuqim-ed of her what 
 Father Francis M'as to say in reply. 
 
 At this question Kate showed considerable 
 alarm. 
 
 '•' Gracious Heavens !" she cried ; " you must 
 not stop talking to him ; he will turn you inside 
 out, and I shall be undone. jSay, you must gabble 
 those words out, and then run awav as hard as 
 you can gallop." 
 
 "But is it true?" asked Griffith: ''is he so 
 much my friend ?" 
 
 " Hum !" said Kate ; " it is quite true ; and he 
 is not at all your friend. There, don't you puzzle 
 yourself, and pester me ; but do as you are bid, or 
 we are both undone." 
 
 Quelled by a menace so mysterious, Griffith 
 promised blind obedience ; and Kate thanked him 
 and bade him good-night; and ordered him 
 peremptorily to bed. 
 
 He went.
 
 268 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 She beckoned him back. 
 
 He came. 
 
 She leaned out, and inquired, in a soft delicious 
 whisper, as follows : " Are you happy, dearest ?" 
 
 " Ay, Kate, the happiest of the happy." 
 
 " Then so am I," she murmured. 
 
 And now she slowly closed the ^nudow, and 
 gradually retired from tlie eyes of her enraptured 
 lover.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 2G9 
 
 CHAPTEli XII. 
 
 But. while Griffith was thus sweetly employed, 
 his neglected guests were dispersing, not without 
 satirical comments on their truant host. Two or 
 three, however, remained, and slept in the house, 
 upon special invitation. And that invitation came 
 from Squire Peyton. He cliose to conclude that 
 Griffith, disappointed by the will, had vacated the 
 premises in disgust, and had left him in charge of 
 them : accordingly he assumed the master with 
 alacrity, and ordered beds for Neville, and Father 
 Francis, and Major Piickards, and another. The 
 weather was inclement, and the roads heavy ; so
 
 270 GPJFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 the gentlemen tlms distinguished accepted Mr. 
 Peyton's offer cordially. 
 
 There were a great many things sung and said 
 at the festive board in the course of the evening ; 
 but very few of them would amuse or interest the 
 reader, as they did the hearers. One thing, 
 however, must not be passed by, as it had its 
 consequences : I\rajor Eickards drank bumpers 
 apiece to the King, the Prince, Church and State, 
 the Army, the Navy, and Kate Peyton. By the 
 time he got to her, two-thirds of his discretion had 
 oozed away in loyalty, esjjrit du corps, and port 
 wine; so he sang the young lady's praises in 
 vinous terms, and of course immortalized the very 
 exploit she most desired to consign to oblivion : 
 Arma viraginemque canehat. He sang the duel : 
 and in a style which I could not, consistently with 
 the interests of literature, reproduce on a larger 
 scale. Hasten we to the concluding versiclcs of 
 his song.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 271 
 
 " So then, sir, we placed our men for the third 
 time, and you may take my word for it, one or 
 both of these heroes would have bit the dust at 
 that discharge; but, by Jove, sir, just as they 
 were going to pull trigger, in galloped your 
 adorable daughter, and swooned off her foamiuo- 
 horse in the middle of us. Disarmed us, sir, in a 
 moment, melted our valour, bewitched our senses ; 
 and the great God of War had to retreat before 
 little Cupid, and the charms of beauty in distress." 
 
 " Little ichot !" observed the tender parent ; and 
 was much distempered. 
 
 He said no more about it to Major Eickards ; 
 but, when they all retired for the night, he under- 
 took to show Father Francis his room, and sat in 
 it with him a good half-hour talking about Kate. 
 
 " Hero's a pretty scandal !" said he : " I must 
 marry the silly girl out of hand, before this gets 
 wind; and you must help me." 
 
 In a word, the result of the conference was, that
 
 272 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 Kate should hs publicly engaged to Neville to- 
 morrow, and married to him as soon as her month's 
 mourning should be over. 
 
 The conduct of the affair was confided to Father 
 Francis, as having unbounded influence with her.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 273 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Next morning Mr. Peyton was up betimes in his 
 character of Host, and ordered the servants about, 
 and was in high spirits ; only they gave place to 
 amazement when Griffith Gaunt came down, and 
 played the Host ; and was in high spirits. 
 
 Neville too watched his rival, and was puzzled 
 at his radiancy. 
 
 So breakfast passed in general mystification. 
 Kate, who could have thrown a light, did not 
 come down to breakfast. She was on her defence. 
 • She made her first appearance out of doors. 
 
 Very early in the morning, 3Ir. Peyton, in his 
 quality of master, had ordered the gardener to cut 
 
 VOL. I. * T
 
 274 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 and sweep the snow off tlie gravel wallv that went 
 round the lawn. And on this path Miss Peyton 
 was seen walking briskly to and fro in the frosty, 
 but sunny air. 
 
 Griffith saw her first, and ran out to bid her 
 good-morning. 
 
 Her reception of him was a farce : she made 
 him a stately curtsy for the benefit of the three 
 faces glued against the panes ; but her words were 
 incongruous. "You wretch," said she, "don't 
 ■come here : hide about, dearest, till you see me 
 ■with Father Francis. I'll raise my hand so, when 
 you are to cuddle him ; and fib. There, make 
 me a low bow, and retire." 
 
 He obeyed, and the whole thing looked mighty 
 formal and ceremonious from the breakfast-room. 
 
 " With your good leave, gentlemen," said Father 
 Francis, drily, "I will be the next to pay my 
 respects to her." With this he opened the window 
 and stepped out.
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 275 
 
 Kate saw hiin, and felt very nervous : she met 
 liim with apparent delight. 
 
 He bestowed his morning benediction on her, 
 and then they walked silently side by side on the 
 gravel; and from the dining-room window it 
 looked like anything but Avhat it was — a fencing 
 match. 
 
 Father Francis was the first to brealc silence. 
 He congratulated her on her good fortune, and on 
 the advantage it might prove to the true Church. 
 
 Kate waited quietly till he had quite done, and 
 then said, " What, I may go into a convent now, 
 that I can bribe the door open ?" 
 
 The scratch was feline, feminine, sudden, and 
 sharp. But alas, Father Francis only smiled at 
 it : though not what we call spiritually-minded, he 
 was a man of a Christian temper. '•' Not with my 
 •good will, my daughter," said he ; " I am of the 
 same mind still, and more than ever. You must 
 marry forthwith, and rear children in the true faith." 
 
 T 2
 
 276 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 " What a liiiny you are in." 
 
 "Your own conduct lias made it necessary." 
 
 " Why, what have I done now ?" 
 
 " No harm ; it was a good and humane action, 
 to prevent bloodshed ; but the world is not always 
 worthy of good actions. People are beginning to 
 make free with your name, for your interfering in 
 the duel." 
 
 Kate fired up. " Why can't people mind then* 
 own business?" 
 
 "I do not exactly know," said the priest, 
 coolly ; " nor is it worth inquiring : w^e must 
 take human nature as it is, and do for the 
 best. You must marry him, and stop their 
 tongues." 
 
 Kate pretended to reflect. " I believe you are 
 right," said she, at last ; " and indeed I must do as 
 you would have me ; for, to tell the truth — in an 
 unguarded moment — I pitied him so — that I half 
 promised I ivoulcV
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 277 
 
 " Indeed !" said Father Francis. '' This is the 
 first I have heard of it." 
 
 Kate replied that M'as no wonder ; for it was 
 only hxst night she had so committed herself. 
 
 '* Last night !" said Father Francis ; " how can 
 that be ? He was never out of my sight till we 
 went to bed." 
 
 " Oh, there I beg to differ," said the lady. 
 " While you were all tippling in the dining- 
 room, he was better employed ; making love by 
 moonhght. And, oh what a terrible thing oppor- 
 tunity is ; and the moon another. There ! what 
 v> ith the moonlight — and my pitying him so — and 
 all he has suffered for me — and my being rich 
 now, and having something to give him — we two 
 are engaged. See, else: this was his mother's 
 ring ; and he has mine." 
 
 "Mr. Neville?" 
 
 "Mr. Neville? No. My old servant, to be 
 sure. Wliat, do von think I would go and marry
 
 278 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 for \yealtb, wlien I have enoiigli and to spare of 
 my own ? Oh ! what an opinion you must have of 
 me." 
 
 Father Francis was staggered by this adroit 
 thrust. However, after a considerable silence, he 
 recovered himself, and inquired, gravely, why she 
 had given him no hint of all this the other night, 
 when he had diverted her from a convent and 
 advised her to marry Neville. 
 
 " That you never did, I'll be sworn," said Kate. 
 
 Father Francis reflected. "Not in so many 
 words, perhaps ; but I said enough to show you." 
 
 " Oh !" said Kate, " such a matter was too 
 serious for hints and innuendoes : if you wanted 
 me to jilt my old servant and wed an acquaint- 
 ance of yesterday, why not say so plainly? I 
 dare say I should have obeyed you, and been 
 unhappy for life ; but now my honour is solemnly 
 engaged ; my faith is plighted ; and were even 
 you to urge me to break faith, and behave dis-
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 279 
 
 honourably, I slioiilcl resist. I "would liever take 
 poison, and die." 
 
 Father Francis looked at her' steadily, and she 
 coloured to the brow. 
 
 '' You are a very apt young lady," said he ; 
 " you have outwitted your director. That may 
 be my fault as much as youi*s ; so I advise you 
 to provide yourself -svith another director, whom 
 you will be unable, or unwilling, to outwit." 
 
 Kate's high spirit fell before this : she turned 
 her eyes, full of tears, on him. 
 
 " Oh, do not desert me, now that I shall need 
 you more than ever to guide me in my new 
 duties. Forgive me; I did not know my own 
 heart — quite. I'll go into a convent now, if I 
 must ; but I can't marry any man but poor 
 Griffith. Ah, father, he is more generous than 
 any of us. Would you believe it? when he 
 thought Bolton and Ilcrnshaw were coming to 
 him, he said if I married him I should have the
 
 280 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 money to build a convent with. He knows how 
 loud I am of a convent." 
 
 " He was jesting : his religion would not allow it." 
 
 " His religion !" cried Kate. Then, lifting her 
 eyes to Heaven, and looking just like an angel, 
 "' Love is Ms religion !" said she, warmly. 
 
 " Then his religion is Heathenism," said the 
 priest, grimly. 
 
 " Nay, there is too much charity in it for that," 
 retorted Kate, keenly. 
 
 Then she looked down like a cunning, guilty 
 thing, and murmured, " One of the things I 
 esteem him for is he always sj)eaks well of you. 
 To be sm'e just now the poor soul thinks you are 
 his best friend with me. But that is my fault : 
 I as good as told him so : and it is true, after a 
 fashion ; for you kept me out of the convent that 
 was his only real rival. Why, here he comes. 
 Oh, father, now don't you go and tell him you 
 side with Mr. Neville."
 
 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 281 
 
 At this crisis Griffith, avIio, to tell the truth, 
 had received a signal from Kate, rushed at Father 
 Francis, and fell upon his neck, and said with 
 great rapidity, " Oh, Father Francis, 'tis to you I 
 owe her — yon and I are friends for life. So long- 
 as we have a house there is a bed in it for you, 
 and whilst we have a table to sit down to, there's 
 a plate at it for you, and a welcome come when 
 you will." 
 
 Having gabbled these words he winked at Kate, 
 and fled swiftly. 
 
 Father Francis was taken aback a little by this 
 sudden burst of affection. 
 
 First he stared — then he knitted his brows — 
 then he pondered. 
 
 Kate stole a look at him, and her eyes sought 
 the ground. 
 
 '•' That is the gentleman you arranged matters 
 with last night?" said he, drily. 
 
 " Yes," replied Kate, faintly.
 
 282 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 '' Was this scene part of tlie business ?" 
 
 "Oil father!" 
 
 " Why I ask, he did it so unnatural. Mr. Gaunt 
 is a worthy, hospitable gentleman ; he and I are 
 very good friends; and really I never doubted 
 that I should be welcome in his house — until this 
 moment." 
 
 " And can you doubt it now?" 
 
 "Almost: his manner just now was so hollow, 
 so forced: not a word of all that came from his 
 heart, you know." 
 
 " Then his heart is changed very lately." 
 
 The priest shook his head. "Anything more 
 like a puppet, and a parrot to boot, I never saw. 
 'Twas done so timely too ; he ran in upon our 
 discourse. Let me see your hand, mistress. Why, 
 where is the string with which you pulled yonder 
 machine in so pat upon the word ?" 
 
 " Spare me !" muttered Kate, faintly. 
 
 " Then do you drop deceit and the silly cunning
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT, 283 
 
 of your sex, and speak to me from your heart, or 
 not at all." (Diapason.) 
 
 At this Kate began to whimper. "Father," 
 she said, "show me some mercy." Then, sud- ■* 
 denly clasping her hands: "Have pity on him, 
 
 x\ND ON ME." 
 
 This time Nature herself seemed to speak, 
 and the eloquent cry Avent clean through the 
 priest's heart. " Ah !" said he ; and his own 
 voice trembled a little : "' now you are as strong 
 as your cunning was weak. Come ; I see how 
 it is with you ; and I am human, and have been 
 young, and a lover into the bargain, before I was 
 a priest. There, dry thy eyes, child, and go to 
 thy room: he thou couldst not trust shall bear 
 the brunt for thee ; this once." 
 
 Then Kate bowed her fair head and kissed the 
 horrid paw of him that had administered so severe 
 but salutary a pat. She hurried away upstairs, 
 right joyful at the unexpected turn things had taken.
 
 284 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 Father Fraucis, tlius converted to her side, lost 
 no time : he walked into the dining-room and told 
 Neville he had bad news for him. '•' Summon all 
 your com'age, my young friend," he said, with 
 feelino-; "and remember that this world is full 
 of disappointments." 
 
 Neville said nothing ; but rose and stood rather 
 pale, waiting like a man for the blow. Its nature 
 he more than half guessed: he had been at the 
 window. 
 
 It fell. 
 
 " She is engaged to Gaunt, since last night : 
 and she loves him." 
 
 " The double-faced jade !" cried Peyton, with 
 an oath. '•' The heartless coquette !" groaned 
 Neville. 
 
 Father Francis made excuses for her : — " Nav, 
 nay, she is not the first of her sex that did not 
 know her own mind all at once. Besides, we men
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 285 
 
 are blind in matters of love : perliaps a woman 
 would have read her from the first. After all 
 she was not bound to give us the eyes to read a 
 female heart." 
 
 He next reminded Neville that Gaunt had been 
 her servant for years. " You knew that," said he, 
 
 "yet you came between them at your peril. 
 
 Put yourself in his place : say you had succeeded : 
 would not his wrong be greater than yom-s is 
 now ? Come, , be brave ; be generous ; he is 
 wounded, he is disinherited ; only his love is 
 left him: 'tis the poor man's lamb; and would 
 you take it ?" 
 
 " Oh, I have not a word to say against the 
 man" said George, with a mighty effort. 
 
 "And what use quarrelling with a woman?" 
 suggested the practical priest. 
 
 " None whatever," said George, sullenly. xVfter 
 a moment's silence he rang the bell feverishly. 
 " Order my horse round directly," said he : then
 
 28G GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 he sat down, and buried his face in his hands, and 
 did not, and could not, listen to the voice of con- 
 solation. 
 
 Now the house was full of spies in petticoats, 
 amateur spies, that ran and told the mistress 
 everything of their own accord, to curry favour. 
 
 And this no doubt was the cause that, just as 
 the groom walked the piebald out of the stable 
 towards the hall door, a maid came to Father 
 Francis with a little note : he opened it, and 
 found these words written faintly, in a fine Italian 
 hand : — 
 
 "I scarce knew my own heart till I saw him 
 wounded and poor, and myself rich at his expense. 
 Entreat Mr. Neville to forsiive me." 
 
 He handed the note to Neville without a word. 
 Neville read it, and his lip trembled; but he 
 said nothing, and presently went out into the
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 287 
 
 hall, and put on his hat, for he saw his nag at 
 the door. 
 
 Father Francis followed him, and said, sorrow- 
 fully, " What, not one word in reply to so humble 
 a request ?" 
 
 "Well, here's my reply," said George, grinding 
 his teeth. " She knows French, though she pre- 
 tends not. 
 
 " ' Le bruit est pour le fat, la plainte est pour le sot, 
 L'honnete homme trompe s'eloigne et ne dit mot.' " 
 
 And with tHs he galloped furiously away. 
 
 He buried himself at Neville's Cross for several 
 days, and would neither see nor speak to a soul. 
 His heart was sick, his pride lacerated. He even 
 shed some scalding tears in secret ; though to loolc 
 at him that seemed impossible. 
 
 So passed a bitter week : and in the course of 
 it he betliought him of the tears he had made a 
 true Italian lady shed; and never pitied her a 
 grain till now.
 
 '288 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 He was going abroad : on his desk lay a little 
 crumpled pajier. It was Kate's entreaty for for- 
 giveness. He had ground it in his hand, and 
 ridden away ^vith it. 
 
 Now he was going away, he resolved to answer 
 her. 
 
 He wrote a letter full of bitter reproaches ; read 
 it over ; and tore it up. 
 
 He wrote a satirical and cutting letter : read 
 it ; and tore it up. 
 
 He wrote her a mawkish letter ; read it ; and 
 tore it up. 
 
 The priest's words, scorned at first, had sunk 
 into him a little. 
 
 He walked about the room, and tried to see it 
 all like a bystander. 
 
 He examined her writing closely : the pen 
 had scarcely marked the paper. They were the 
 timidest strokes. The writer seemed to kneel to 
 him. He summoned all his manhood, his forti-
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 289 
 
 tnde, Lis generosity, and, above all, his high- 
 breeding ; and produced the following letter ; and 
 this one he sent:'^"- 
 
 " Mistress Kate, — I leave England to-day 
 for your sake ; and shall never return unless 
 the day shall come when I can look on you but 
 as a friend. The love that ends in hate, that 
 is too sorry a thing to come betwixt you and 
 me. 
 
 " If you have used me ill, your punishment is 
 this ; you have given me the right to say to you 
 
 1 forgive you. 
 
 " George Neville." 
 
 And he went straight to Italy. 
 
 Kate laid his note upon her knee, and sighed 
 deeply; and said, "Poor fellow! How noble of 
 liira ! What can such men as this see in any 
 woman to go and fall in love with her ?" 
 
 VOL. I. t:
 
 290 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 Griffith found her with a tear in her eye. He 
 took her out walking, and laid all his radiant 
 plans of wedded life before her. She came 
 back flushed, and beaming with complacency and 
 beauty. 
 
 ' Old Peyton was brought to consent to the 
 marriage. Only he attached one" condition, that 
 Bolton and Hernshaw should be settled on Kate 
 for her separate use. 
 
 To this Griffith assented readily ; but Kate 
 refused plump. "What, give him myself, and 
 then grudge him my estates !" said she, with a 
 look of lofty and beautiful scorn at her male 
 advisers. 
 
 But Father Francis, having regard to the tem- 
 poral interests of liis Church, exerted his strength 
 and pertinacity, and tired her out ; so those 
 estates were put into trustees' hands, and tied up 
 as tight as wax. 
 
 This done, Griffith Gauu.t and Kate Peyton
 
 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 291 
 
 were married, and made the finest pair that 
 wedded in the county that year. 
 
 As the bells burst into a merry peal, and they 
 walked out of cliureh man and wife, their path 
 across the churchyard was strewed thick with 
 flowers, emblematic no doubt of the path of life 
 that lay before so handsome a couple. 
 
 They spent the honeymoon in London, and- 
 tasted earthly felicity. 
 
 Yet did not quarrel after it ; but subsided into 
 the quiet complacency of wedded life. 
 
 u 2
 
 292 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Gaunt lived happily togetlier — as 
 times went. 
 
 A fine girl and boy were born to tbem ; and 
 need I say bow tbeir hearts expanded and exulted ; 
 and seemed to grow twice as large. 
 
 The little boy was taken from them at three 
 years old : and how can I convey to any but a 
 parent the anguish of that first bereavement ? 
 
 Well, they suffered it together, and that poignant 
 grief was one tie more between them. 
 
 For many years they did not furnish any ex- 
 citing or even interesting matter to this narrator. 
 And all the better for them : without these happy 
 penods of dulness our lives would be hell, and
 
 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 293 
 
 our hearts eternally bubbling and boiling in a huge 
 pot made hot with thorns. 
 
 In the absence of striking incidents, it may be 
 Avell to notice the progress of character, and note 
 the tiny seeds of events to come. 
 
 Neither the intellectual nor the moral character 
 of any person stands stock-still : a man improves, 
 or he declines. IMrs. Gaunt had a great taste for 
 readins: : Mr. Gaunt had not : what was the con- 
 sequence? at the end of seven years the lady's 
 understanding had made great strides ; the gen- 
 tleman's had, apparently, retrograded. 
 
 Now we all need a little excitement, and we all 
 seek it, and get it by hook or by crook. . The girl, 
 who satisfies that natural craving with what the 
 canting dunces of the day call a "sensational" 
 novel, and the girl, who does it by waltzing till 
 daybreak, are sisters ; only one obtains the result 
 intellectually, and the other obtains it like a young 
 animal, and a pain in her empty head next day.
 
 294 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 Mrs. Gaunt could enjoy company, but was 
 never dull with a good book. Mr. Gaunt was a 
 pleasant companion, but dull out of company. So, 
 rather than not have it, he would go to the parlour 
 of the " Red Lion," and chat and sing with the 
 yeomen and rollicking young squires that resorted 
 thither : and this was matter of grief and astonish- 
 ment to Mrs. Gaunt. 
 
 It was balanced by good qualtities she knew 
 how to appreciate. Morals were much looser then 
 than now; and more than one wife of her ac- 
 quaintance had a rival in the Tillage, or even 
 among her own domestics ; but Griffith had no 
 loose inclinations of that kind, and never gave her 
 a moment's uneasiness. He was constancy and 
 fidelity in person. 
 
 Sobriety had not yet been invented. But 
 Griffith was not so intemperate as most squires ; 
 he could always mount the stau's to tea, and 
 generally without staggering.
 
 GKIFFITH GAUNT.' 295 
 
 He was uxorious, and it used to come out after 
 his wine. This ]Mrs. Gaunt permitted at first, but 
 by-and-by says she, expanding her delicate nos- 
 trils, " You may be as affectionate as you please 
 dear, and you may smell of wine, if you will ; but 
 please not to smell of wine and be affectionate at 
 the same moment. I value your affection too 
 highly to let you disgust me Avith it." 
 
 And the model husband yielded to this severe 
 restriction, and, as it never occm-red to him to give 
 up his wine, he forebore to be affectionate in his 
 cups. 
 
 One great fear Mrs. Gaunt had entertained 
 before marriage, ceased to haunt her. Now and 
 then her quick eye saw Griffith writhe at the 
 great influence her dhector had with her; but he 
 never spoke out to offend her, and she, like a good 
 wife, saw, smiled, and adroitly, tenderly soothed : 
 and this was nothing compared to what she had 
 feared.
 
 296 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 Griffith saw liis wife admired by other men, yet 
 never chid nor chafed. The merit of this belonored 
 in a high degree to herself. The fact is, that 
 Kate Peyton, even before marriage, was not a 
 coquette at heart, though her conduct might 
 easily bear that construction : and she was now 
 an experienced matron, and knew how to be as 
 charming as ever, yet check or parry all ap- 
 proaches of gallantry on the part of her admirers. 
 Then Griffith observed how delicate and prudent 
 his lovely wife was, without ostentatious prudery ; 
 and his heart was at peace. 
 
 He was the happier of the two, for he looked 
 up to his wife, as well as loved her, whereas she 
 was troubled at times with a sense of superiority 
 to her husband. She was amiable enough, and 
 wise enough, to try and shut her eyes to it ; and 
 often succeeded ; but not always. 
 
 Upon the whole, they were a contented couple ; 
 though the lady's dreamy eyes seemed still to be
 
 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 297 
 
 exploring earth and sky in search of something 
 they had not yet found, even in wedded life. 
 
 They lived at Hernshaw. A letter had been 
 found among Mr. Charlton't papers explaining his 
 ■will. He counted on their marrying, and begged 
 them to live at the castle. He had left it on his 
 Avife's death ; it reminded him too keenly of 
 happier days ; but, as he drew near his end, and 
 must leave all earthly things, he remembered the 
 old house with tenderness, and put out his dying 
 hand to save it from falling into decay. 
 
 Unfortunately considerable repairs were needed, 
 and, as Kate's property was tied up so tight, 
 Griffith's two thousand pounds went in repairing 
 the house, lawn, park raihngs, and walled gardens ; 
 went, every penny, and left the bridge over the 
 lake still in a battered, rotten, and, in a word, 
 picturesque condition. 
 
 This lake was, by the older inhabitants, some- 
 times called the " mere," and sometime the "fish-
 
 298 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 pools ;" it resembled an hour-glass in shape, only 
 curved like a crescent. 
 
 In medioeval times it had no doubt been a main 
 defence of the place. It was very deep in parts, 
 especially at the waist or narrow that was spanned 
 by the decayed bridge. There were hundreds of 
 carp and tench in it older than any he in Cumber- 
 land, and also enormous pike and eels ; and fish 
 from one to five pounds' weight by the million. 
 The water literally teemed from end to end ; and 
 this was a great comfort to so good a Catholic as 
 Mrs. Gaunt. When she was seized with a desire to 
 fast, and that was pretty often, the gardener just 
 went down to the lake and flung a casting-net in 
 some favourite hole, and drew out half a bushel 
 the first cast ; or planted a flue-net round a patch 
 of weeds, then belaboured the weeds with a long 
 pole, and a score of fine fish were sure to run out 
 into the meshes. 
 
 The " mere " was clear as plate glass, and came
 
 GEIFFITH GAUNT. 299 
 
 to tlie edge of the shaven lawn, and reflected 
 flowers, turf, and overhanging shrubs, deliciously. 
 
 Yet an ill name brooded over its seductive 
 Avaters. For two persons had been drowned in it 
 during the last hundred years : and the last one 
 was the parson of the parish, returning from 
 the Squire's dinner in the normal condition of a 
 guest, at that epoch. But what most affected 
 the popular mind, Avas, not the jovial soul hurried 
 into etemitv, but the material circumstance that 
 the gTeedy pike had cleared the flesh off his bones 
 in a single night ; so that little more than a ske- 
 leton, with here and there a black rag hanging to 
 it, had been recovered next morning. 
 
 This ghastly detail being stoutly maintained 
 and constantly repeated by two ancient eye-wit- 
 nesses, whose one melo-dramatic incident and 
 treasure it was, the rustic mind saw no beauty 
 whatever in those pellucid w\aters, where flowers 
 did glass themselves.
 
 300 OKIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 As for the women of tlie village, they looked on 
 this sheet of water as a trap for their poor bodies, 
 and those of their children, and spoke of it as a 
 singular hardship in their lot, that Hernshaw 
 mere had not been filled up threescore years 
 
 agone. 
 
 The castle itself was no castle, nor had it been 
 for centuries : it was just a house with battle- 
 ments; but attached to the stable was an old 
 square tower that really had formed part of the 
 mediaeval castle. 
 
 However, that unsubstantial shadow, a name, is 
 often more durable than the thing ; especially in 
 rural parts : but, indeed, what is there in a name 
 for Time's teeth to catch hold of ? 
 
 Though no castle, it was a delightful abode. 
 The drawing-room and dining-room Iiad both 
 spacious bay windows, opening on to the lawn 
 that sloped very gradually down to the clear 
 lake, and there was mirrored. On this sweet
 
 GKIFFITH GAUNT. 301 
 
 laAMi the inmates and guests walked for sun and 
 mellow air, and often played bowls at eventide. 
 
 On the other side was the drive up to the house 
 cloor, and a sweep, or small oval plot, of turf, sur- 
 rounded by gravel ; and a gate at the corner of 
 this sweep opened into a grove of the grandest old 
 spruce firs in the island. 
 
 This grove, dismal in winter, and awful at night, 
 was deliciously cool and sombre in the dog days. 
 The trees were spires, and their great stems stood 
 serried like infantry in column, and flung a mighty 
 canopy of sombre plumes over head. A strange, 
 antique, and^ classic grove — nulli penetrabilis astro. 
 
 This retreat was enclosed on three sides by a 
 wall, and on the east side came nearly to the 
 house ; a few laurel bushes separated the two. 
 At night it was shunned religiously, on account of 
 the ghosts. Even by daylight it was little fre- 
 quented, except by one person : and she took to it 
 amazingly. That person was Mrs. Gaunt. There 
 
 VOL. I. '
 
 302 GRIFFITH GAUNT. 
 
 seems to be, even in educated women, a singular, 
 instinctive love of twilight ; and here was twilight 
 at high noon. The place, too, suited her dreamy 
 meditative nature. Hither, then, she often re- 
 tired for peace and religious contemplation, and 
 moved slowly in and out among the tall stems, or 
 sat still, with her thoughtful brow leaned on he? 
 white hand : till the cool, umbrageous retreat got 
 to be called among the servants, "The Dame's 
 Haunt." 
 
 This, I think, is all needs to be told about the 
 mere place, where the Gaunts lived comfortably 
 many years ; and little dreamed of the strange 
 events in store for them ; little knew the passions 
 that slumbered in their own bosoms, and, like 
 other volcanoes, bided their time. 
 
 END OP VOL. I. 
 
 rONDOS: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SO>'S, STAMFORD STREET 
 AND CnARING CROSS. 
 
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