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 L161— O-1096
 
 c^m
 
 GOD'S PROVIDENCE HOUSE. 
 
 i ^torg of 179L 
 
 BY MRS. G. LINN^US BANKS. 
 
 IN THEEE VOLUMES. VOL. I. 
 
 L K D X : 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, 
 
 I860.
 
 LOKDON : PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AKD SONS, STAMFORD STRFFT 
 AND CHARING CROSS.
 
 
 V. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 ^ From a good old aunt by whose side the Authoress 
 passed from infancy to maturity, she obtained the 
 thread of narrative on which she has strung her own 
 fiction, and some incidental " facts." 
 
 There may be elderly people yet Uving in Chester, 
 who can remember hearing in their distant childhood 
 of the discoveries made at a long- deserted and 
 '' haunted " Grange, near the River Dee, by a fearless 
 love-making servant man, employed by the equally 
 
 rv daring farmer who had ventured on the tenancy of 
 house and lands. It is not desirable to forestal her 
 
 7^ story in the Preface, else would the writer give the 
 line of demarcation between fact and fiction. 
 
 How near to the mouth of the river the veritable 
 
 ^ Grange was situated is unknown to the novelist, who 
 
 - has located the mansion at Shot wick simply for the
 
 V PREFACE. 
 
 purposes of her storv. She has made use of God's 
 Providence House as she might of auy other historic 
 place ; and if she has accepted from tradition for the 
 house a tenaut, who, in following his daily occupations, 
 grew rapidly rich in the mode described, she can 
 safely say that in all other respects Mr. Peover is her 
 own creation. 
 
 The scene on Gallows Hill is authentic ; so is that 
 of the snow-drift in Delamere Forest. The same 
 may be said of other incidents introduced, not for the 
 sake of "sensation," but to show the general state of 
 the country, the roads, customs, habits, and condition 
 of the people at the close of the last century. A 
 veteran living artist remembers seeing at Bagnigge 
 Wells, highwaymen enter the tavern and lay down 
 their horse-pistols on the table before them, as coolly 
 as the modern traveller would put down satchel or 
 gloves, and the mother of the Authoress knew a 
 woman who caused her own husband to be kid- 
 napped. 
 
 Therefore she hopes she has not exceeded nature 
 or probabiUty in her picture, either by exaggerated 
 drawing or overcolouring ; whatever other errors of 
 judgment she may unconsciously have committed. 
 
 In the belief that the English language is suffi-
 
 PREFACE. V 
 
 ciently ample to subserve all the ordinary purposes 
 of life, in this story of homely English people, ad- 
 dressed to English readers, she has striven (and she 
 tmsts not in vain) to steer clear alike of bad French 
 and still more objectionable slang. 
 
 Grenville Grange gave its name to the story 
 originally; but, acting on the advice of older and 
 more experienced heads than her own, the Authoress 
 changed the title at the last moment to that which it 
 now bears, and which they considered more satis- 
 factory and appropriate. 
 
 London, 
 
 June 30, I860.
 
 CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 THE TWO TENANTS . . ..... 1 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 MR. Latham's friend 24 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 THE SECOND NIGHT AT THE GRANGE . . . .46 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 AN ENCOUNTER IN THE FOREST 65 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AT HOME 85 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SHADOWS ROUND THE WINDOW SEAT . . . .110 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 HOPES AND FEARS 131
 
 yiii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER Vni. vAGK 
 
 OLD HEARTHS AND YOUNG HEARTS . . • • 1'^^ 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 thine! ^'^^ 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 UNDER- CURRENTS ....... 203 
 
 STORMS 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 . 228 
 
 CHAPTER XH. 
 
 ^VHAT WILL IT LEAD TO ? . . . . . .253 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 ph(ebe's puzzle ....... 282 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE THRESHOLD OF CHRISTMAS ..... 305
 
 GOD'S PROVIDENCE HOUSE, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE TWO TENANTS. 
 
 When Michael Ford became the owner of Gren- 
 ville Grange, in right of Margaret his wife (the last 
 of the Grenvilles), it was as wild and desolate a 
 spot as ever schoolboy shuddered to pass. Twenty 
 winters had been tearing at it with ruthless hands, 
 hurling down chimney-stacks, displacing coping- 
 stones, beating in window-panes, rusting the hinges 
 and dragging the shutters down, to creak and flap in 
 the wind, crumbling to touchwood the unused bridge 
 over the moat, and battering the stone griffins — those 
 grim sentinels of a gateway they could not guard. 
 The gate had long been burst from its fastenings, and 
 stood invitingly open, suspended from one hinge, as if 
 tottering to its fall. 
 
 But twenty summers, with compassionate touch and 
 dainty fingers, had striven to bind up the wounds 
 
 VOL. L I)
 
 2 god's providence house. 
 
 inflicted by winter's weapons, had clasped the walls 
 with iv}^ wreaths, and hung its glossy banners over 
 dilapidated chimney and cornice, over rents and 
 breaches; draped its dark leaves above the upper 
 windows in graceful festoons, to guard the interior 
 from blasts which wooed too roughly ; had mingled 
 in loving embrace with the friendly ivy the tendrils of 
 woodbine and clematis to cluster round the deserted 
 porch, and peep into the bay-windows of the lower 
 rooms ; had thrown a mantle of green over the stag- 
 nant waters of the moat ; stre\vn and grown a bed of 
 leaves and weeds to support the drooping gate ; 
 coated the griffins with robes of velvety moss, im- 
 parted to the once quaintly-cut yews and laurels the 
 fresh beauty of natur'al growth, and hid the festering 
 heaps of withered leaves beneath a wealth of roses 
 and flowers of rainbow hues. 
 
 But all to little purpose. AYinter had been stronger 
 than summer ; the vegetation was rank even in its 
 luxuriance ; the broken panes and rotting wood spoke 
 of neglect and decay ; the grass-grown paths, tangled 
 and matted with weeds, proclaimed neglect, and worse 
 — avoidance. The fruit might grow and ripen on the 
 trees, and fall untouched, though the gates were open 
 and village urchins within half a mile : so the place 
 was ghastly even in the sunshine ; and in the autumn, 
 when 3Iichael came to survey his new possessions, it 
 was dreary-looliing indeed.
 
 THE TWO TENANTS. 3 
 
 He was not, however, a man of strong imagination, 
 had no romantic tendencies, was not infected with 
 superstitious fears ; so he measured the acres and 
 counted the rooms with as much composure as though 
 the last tenant had just quitted, and no ghostly 
 inhabitant ever had, or could have, a lease of the 
 premises. 
 
 A foolhardy man was Michael Ford in the opinion 
 of the neighbouring farmers and cotters — a stubborn, 
 daring man — to venture within the precincts of the 
 haunted Grange at all, and rash beyond all precedent, 
 to contemplate a residence there. They maintained 
 '' no good would come of it — the spot was unhallowed 
 — the spectre of the suicide Mistress Grenville walked 
 the place at midnight, and never failed to punish 
 intrusion on her demesne with death or madness !" 
 
 But the stalwart Cheshire yeoman was not the man 
 to be deterred from his purpose by the idle fears or 
 opinions of ignorant rustics. He had done battle 
 with the world in his younger days, had gained in- 
 formation from men and books possessed at that time 
 by few of his class, and despised the credulity which 
 peopled every deserted mansion with tenants from 
 the spirit-world. " When I see a ghost," he said, 
 " I will believe in one, but not till then." 
 
 Margaret Grenville was the only child of a 
 "younger son," who died a soldier's death in India, 
 leaving her to the care of his elder and unmarried
 
 4 god's rROVIDENCE HOUSE. 
 
 brotlier. But when clear j'Oung housekeepers quit 
 elderly bachelor uncles for husbands and homes of 
 their own, the bachelor-households seem to grow 
 duller and more dreary every day. And so, when 
 Marsfaret became Mrs. Ford, and retired with her 
 bridegroom to his dwelling near Northwich, Sir Luke 
 Grenville sat and dozed in his arm-chair, dreamed of 
 marriage and cheerful feminine faces, and waked to 
 solitude and silence. He fidgeted about, wandered 
 from room to room, strolled through the gardens, 
 tried fishing, hunting, and shooting, to beguile the 
 tedium of the weary days, but all to no purpose. 
 What availed his exploits in the field, if he had no 
 one to listen to their narration by the fireside? 
 Pioystering squires would have come in shoals, it is 
 true ; but he was not a reveller, and disliked their 
 noisy mirth. He missed the quiet step and mild face 
 of Margaret; and, as he dozed and dreamed, and 
 waked and mused, he somehow stumbled over the 
 fact that there were other Margarets in the world, 
 and that hunting or angling for a wife might be as 
 pleasant and profitable a pursuit as chasing a fox 
 for his brush, or wearily watching a float for a nibble 
 or a bite. 
 
 Thus matrimonially disposed, Sir Luke became 
 cognizant of the smiles and glances of a charming 
 widow, whose pew at church was directly opposite to 
 his own. This bewitching dame had a matrimonial
 
 THE TWO TEXANTf. 5 
 
 scheme in her head also, but she very sagaciously 
 kept it to herself, so that when the old bachelor 
 mentally decided that so pleasant a neighbour would 
 make an agreeable companion, and invited her to 
 become the mistress of the Manor House, no suspicion 
 crossed the w^orthy knight's mind of the skilful 
 manoeuvres by which she had obtained the long 
 coveted home and title. 
 
 Lady Grenville was decidedly clever, her " two 
 incumbrances," as she jocularly styled her son and 
 daughter, were clever too; and when in 1790, Sir 
 Luke died, full of years and foolish fancies, it was 
 discovered that they had cleverly contrived to oust 
 his once dear niece from her true place in his heart 
 and his will. All his alienable property he had 
 assigned to his widow and her heirs, and had the 
 ancient seat of the family borne a better name or 
 been more eligible, it is possible they would have 
 endeavoured to dispossess her of that also. 
 
 Long years before death claimed Sir Luke, or a 
 wily widow his lands, Michael Ford had been heard 
 to regret that so goodly an estate should be suffered 
 to lie waste through an idle story. '•' If every house 
 in which a foul deed had been done were to be 
 deserted," he was wont to say — "if every lane in 
 which murder had left crimson tracks were stopped, 
 if every field in which the slaughtered dead had lain 
 in ghastly heaps were to lie fallow, what would
 
 b GOD S PROVIDENCE HOUSE. 
 
 England's millions do for homes or roads, or pas- 
 turage, or harvest lands ? Let the wrong done cling 
 to the wrongdoer, and die out with the doer's life ; 
 but let not places be accursed from generation to 
 generation because blood was shed or outrage com- 
 mitted on the senseless turf, or under the sightless 
 roof! Places could not participate in crime; and 
 though imagination could not fail to conjure up a 
 recent tragedy on visiting the scene of its perpetra- 
 tion, still," he thought, "time ought to wash out 
 blood-stains from a house as from a battle-field : and 
 while there w^re so many foodless, houseless wan- 
 derers on the earth, those who permitted lands to 
 remain untilled, or houses empty, through morbid 
 fancy, were grossly culpable. For his own part, he 
 believed the air around him to be filled with unseen 
 spirits, but a man with conscience clear might walk 
 erect at midnight through a charnel-house !" 
 
 No wonder then, that (holding such opinions) 
 Michael's first care, on obtaining this accession to his 
 property, was to find a tenant for his own homestead 
 near Noi;jihwich, and then to visit the Grange, for the 
 purpose of rendering it habitable, before removing 
 his family thither. He knew it would be difficult to 
 find an occupant for the ill-conditioned, ill-omened 
 Grange, though an easy task to dispose of the highly- 
 cultivated Ford-brook Farm. He knew also that it 
 would require a strong mind and will to overcome
 
 THE TWO TENANTS. 7 
 
 deeply-rooted prejudices, so as to make labour avail- 
 able on his new property, and none fitter than the 
 owner to combat these difficulties, and restore the 
 desolate mansion to its former state or value. 
 
 Having completed his brief survey, and ascertained 
 that the lonely pile had not been wholly dismantled, 
 the furniture in two rooms remaining as in Mistress 
 Grenville's day, only dusty and dingy with neglect 
 and age : he retraced his steps to the village inn, 
 where he had left his steed, more jaded with bad 
 roads than long distance ; for Mac Adam had not then 
 arisen to smoothe the roads beneath the horses' hoofs, 
 and travelling in those days, whether vehicular, 
 equestrian, or pedestrian, was little better than 
 painful penance. After ascertaining from personal 
 inspection that his horse had been well cared for, he 
 proceeded to obtain refreshment for himself, and 
 speech with the landlord. 
 
 The ruddy and jovial host of the Black Bear was 
 at that moment in the common room, the centre of 
 a group of open-mouthed listeners, all eager to learn 
 something more of the new owner of the Grange than 
 was already known ; Avhilst he, to enhance his own 
 importance, appeared brimful of the information he 
 was too sagacious to impart. In fact, the arrival of a 
 well-mounted stranger, with holsters and saddle-bags, 
 never failed to draw the villagers to the doors, and 
 should he, as in the present instance, dismount,
 
 8 god's providexce house. 
 
 thirsty curiosity was sure to leave the anvil, the adze, 
 the awl, or the spade, to drink in ale and gossip at 
 Ralph Home's. Michael had made no secret of his 
 errand or his name, and therefore had been Avarned 
 and cautioned against his rash undertaking, not only 
 by Ralph, and his rosy daughter Phoebe, but b}^ the 
 blacksmith, the wheelwright, the cobbler, and a 
 chorus of smockfrocked rustics who crowded round 
 the horse-block. But now that he had returned 
 alive, with no further scath than miry boots, and 
 cobwebbed cloak, astonishment was at its height, and 
 i\[atthew Spark the blacksmith, affirmed he was " a 
 brave and bold mon, and he loiked his sperrit !" 
 
 The summons of Ralph to the little sanded bar- 
 parlour left curiosity and astonishment still agape, 
 but the eyes and mouths opened wider when he 
 returned accompanied by JMichael Ford, who looked 
 steadily around as he said, " I am told by the land- 
 lord here, that no one can be found in the village 
 willing to accompany me to my house, either for 
 love or money. Is this true ?" The men shrank 
 closer together, and jostled each other's shoulders, 
 but none made re23ly. '* For love, as I am a stranger," 
 continued he, '* it would be unfair to expect any man 
 to leave his own work to wait ujDon me ; but I do not 
 scruple to ask, which of you, being well paid, will bear 
 my saddle-bags to the Grange, with materials to kindle 
 a fire, and refireshments to serve me until morniuoj ?"
 
 THE TVVO TEXANTS. 9 
 
 " Goin' to bide i' th' Grange a' neeght ? why^ 
 measter, you'll be clean demented ere th' mearn !" 
 was the exclamation from lips which yet failed to 
 reply to his question. 
 
 " Demented ! with what, my good fellows ? No 
 honest man need fear aught, save thieves in a lonely 
 dwelling, and as I am a sober man, well provided," 
 (pointing to his pistols) " and carry Avith me no super- 
 fluity of gold, I need not fear midnight marauders. No 
 man without crime at his heart trembles at shadows." 
 
 *' Oi've no croime on moi hert, Mester Ford, nor do 
 oi think have ony o' my neebors, yet oi conna make 
 up moi moind to go nigh th' ha'nted Grange after 
 neeght-fa' and oi'm sure a' here are of moi moind ;" 
 answered the sturdy smith, as spokesman for the 
 body politic. 
 
 " But this is broad daylight. Do you ever go to 
 church, my friends?" 
 
 "Ay, ay, sur; we are not hathens, sure-ly!" was 
 the general response. 
 
 *'Do you pass through the churchyard on winter 
 nights?" 
 
 "Yoi, or we could na' get to th' church or to 
 Mester Latham's without goin' a moile round ?" again 
 replied Matthew Spark. 
 
 " And why should Grenville Grange have more 
 terrors for you than the churchyard, where poor 
 Mistress Grenville was burled ? (you know she was
 
 10 god's providence house. 
 
 not consigned to the cross-roads.) Eupert Gren- 
 ville, too, whose hand was red with a brother's hlood, 
 lies there, yet none of you are affrighted. Why, 
 then, should the Grange be more terrible ? 1 hope, 
 for the honour of Cheshire, I have not come amongst 
 a race of cowards ; who would see me plod with a 
 heavy load, hence to my place, though already weary 
 with travel, rather tlian earn a good day's pay, and all 
 for fear of — nothing." 
 
 '' Well, measter, oi neer was called a coward afore, 
 an' oi neer was one, but mony a mon besoide me is 
 afeert o' a woman even o' flesh an' blood, let alone a 
 sperrit ; but oi'U een go wi' ye an' leeght yer foire ; it 
 shonna be said as how Matthew Spark was afeert i* 
 dayleoght o' that another man 'ud face at mid- 
 neeght. So Ralph, mak haste and gie us th' bags 
 an' provender, an' let 's set off," said the smith, 
 turning towards the landlord, who bustled away to 
 provide what the traveller had previously ordered. 
 
 Miles Wood, the stout young wheelwright, whose 
 open face had for some time revealed the struggle in 
 bis breast between superstitious fear and new-born 
 shame, prompted, it may be, by a latent desire to win 
 by his manly daring the favour of pretty Phoebe, also 
 stepped forward and proffered his assistance to Mr. 
 Ford and iMatthew. And now, as though courage 
 was as contagious as fever or fear, one by one the 
 bystanders expressed their willingness to join the
 
 THE TWO TENAjSTS. 1 1 
 
 adventurous few, until Michael Ford found himself 
 at the head of a numerous party, and though at 
 another time he might have felt disposed to decline 
 their gratuitous attendance, as placing him in a some- 
 what ludicrous position, at present, he thought it 
 desirable to foster any display tending to overcome 
 the general repugnance to approach the Grange, 
 though he could not forbear smiling when he heard 
 some of the most timorous of the clodpates voci- 
 ferating as they went, " Whose afeert, whose afeert ?" 
 
 By-and-bye, however, as the pointed gables of the 
 old building became visible above the distant trees, 
 the courage of these noisy adherents, like that of 
 Bob Acres, "oozed out at their finger-ends;'^ their 
 pace slackened, they lagged behind, and finally with 
 one accord the pusillanimous volunteers rushed back 
 to the village with the startling intelligence, that 
 '' The Squire, Mat Spark, Moiles Wood, an' Job Last, 
 ha' gone in at th' gateway, under th' very noses o' 
 th' stone griffins." 
 
 That these white-faced men ever expected to see 
 their friends again, sound in mind and body, is very 
 questionable ; yet though they had turned and fled 
 from a nameless dread of a bodiless shape, these very 
 men had thews and sinews fitted to endure the 
 utmost rigours of a soldier life, had such been their 
 vocation ; and placed " i' th' imminent deadly breach," 
 would neither have faltered nor blenched, but borne
 
 12 god's providexce house. 
 
 the name of English meu bravely and manfully, amid 
 the rattle of artillery and the deadly shower of shot. 
 And let no blame attach to these uneducated men of 
 a past generation for the terror they displayed ; men 
 of note and culture shared the feeling with them. 
 The inhabitants of our largest cities were not free 
 from a belief in supernatural visitations, and there- 
 fore the dwellers in our rural districts might well be 
 excused if they were more strongly tainted with the 
 common infection. The spiritual world was then an 
 awful sublimity, invested with strange fascination and 
 terrible mystery. No vulgar " mediums " had pro- 
 fessed communion with the shades of the departed 
 by rapping on parlour tables ; violating at once ortho- 
 graphy an'd common sense. It remained for modem 
 invention to familiarize and vulcjarize converse with 
 the invisible ; it remained for the tea-table gossips of 
 this century to press their fingers on the mahogany, 
 and presume to put flippant questions to the spirits 
 of Shakspeare and Milton : the tea-table gossips of 
 the past century, though less scientifically educated, 
 and superstitious withal, spoke of ghosts with fear 
 and trembling, and held the spirits of the dead in 
 awe and reverence. 
 
 The key turned in the lock much more readily 
 than might have been anticipated from its long dis- 
 use, and admitted Michael and his three silent fol- 
 lowers into a spacious hall, paved with large red and
 
 THE TWO TEXA^'TS. 13 
 
 black tiles, placed diamond- wise. On either band a 
 door opened into a small room ; passing beyond these, 
 the hall branched oflf to the right and left in a long 
 narrow passage, towards the large rooms in each wing, 
 and also to those at the back of the building. This 
 passage was lit by lancet windows pierced in the 
 front wall, and corresponded with the corridor above ; 
 communication with the two be'ng attained by means 
 of a broad winding staircase, with mas&ive balustrades 
 of carved oak, and lit by one long narrow window 
 which overlooked the court-yard at the back, and 
 served also to light the entrance-hall. Up this stair- 
 case Michael Ford led the w^ay, and crossing the 
 corridor, entered the room before him, an apartment 
 of lofty and noble proportions, situated immediately 
 above the entrance-hall and side-rooms, thus occupy- 
 ing the entire centre of the edifice, w^hich, I should 
 have intimated, consisted of a Lroad projecting front, 
 connected by the corridors with two wings, somewhat 
 less expansive and prominent. 
 
 Matthew and his companions hesitated, and ex- 
 changed glances, seemingly unwilling to follow the 
 '* Squire " beyond the threshold of this room, but on 
 his summons to advance they came forward, though 
 with considerable trepidation — this was evidently one 
 of the haunted chambers. And to one acquainted 
 with its story, the aspect of the apartment bore a sad 
 significance. Near the window stood a work-table,
 
 14 god's providence house. 
 
 OQ which lay a tangled heap of faded silks ; an em- 
 broidery frame, with its piece of unfinished work, lay 
 on the chair beside it, as if thrown down in haste ; 
 chairs were overturned ; the centre table held bottles 
 and glasses, cards and dice in strange confusion ; the 
 embers of the last fire yet remained on the hearth ; 
 and but for the thick dust which lay on everything it 
 might have passed as the scene of a recent revel. 
 
 Here a fire was with some difficulty kindled, the 
 wide fireplace at first vomiting forth as much smoke 
 as passed up the huge chimney. A portion of the 
 superabundant dust was removed from the table, a 
 cumbrous chair (the least uneasy of the stiff-backed 
 collection) drawn to the side of the hearth fronting 
 the door, and then the extemporary servitors hastened 
 to depart, for the sun was setting in a crimson sky, 
 and they feared to loiter until dusk in so questionable 
 a locality. 
 
 In vain Michael pressed money on them in pay- 
 ment of their services, both Miles and Matthew pro- 
 testing they " did na' come for th' sake o' th' money ; 
 not a' th' gold in your purse 'ud ha' tempted us 
 under this roof, measter, still less into this frightful 
 room (though there be a more awful room i' th' 
 Grange than this), but yo' are a downreeght straight- 
 for'ard outspoken mon, and braver than manny a 
 redcoat feeghting in Indee now, or yo'd be fleered * 
 *AffrigLted.
 
 THE TWO TENANTS. 15 
 
 to bide here, and though yo' did say as how we were 
 a' cowards, should yo' ere want anny one to serve yo' 
 neeght or day, Matthew Spark's yo'r mon !" ex- 
 claimed the smith, striking the clenched fist of the 
 right hand into the open palm of the left, as he would 
 bring a hammer down on his anvil. 
 
 " Oi say the same as Mat !" said Miles, with a 
 sideway approving nod of his head. 
 
 " An' oi too, for you're as stanch a gentleman as 
 ever wore shoe-leather," chimed in little Job Last. 
 
 " If you will not accept payment for your time, I 
 suppose you will not refuse to drink my health on 
 my accession to this estate, so bid the host of the 
 Black Bear broach some of his best ale, and do you 
 make yourselves merry withal, and I will discharge 
 the reckoning ; but I owe you more than thanks, or 
 even a glass of ale, for your goodwill, though I do 
 thank you truly. Good day !" 
 
 '' Good day and a quiet neeght measter !" and the 
 trio hurried away, down the path, over the rotiing 
 bridge and through the Griffin-gate as fast as their 
 legs could carry them without an absolute run. 
 
 Michael smiled as he watched their hasty departure, 
 then closing the outer door with bolt and bar, retraced 
 his steps to the ancient drawing-room. The noise of 
 the closing door reverberated through the empty pile, 
 and hollow echoes followed his steps, but he never 
 heard them, or if he did, he was too much occupied
 
 16 god's PROVIDEXCE HOUSE. 
 
 with his own thoughts to be moved by echoes. He 
 was calculating the possible cost of repairs and mi- 
 provements, and the length of time workmen might 
 take, before the place would be fit to receive his 
 wife and daughter ; and calculations of that class 
 are too prosaic to admit any freaks of imagination. 
 He closed the door to exclude the draught, for the 
 autumn winds were blowing keenly without, and an 
 unmistakable breeze swept up the staircase and 
 along the corridor ; then he strode to the window to 
 survey the cheerless aspect of the grounds, and 
 cogitate how to turn them to the best advantage. 
 After a time he turned to examine minutely the 
 carved panels surrounding the room, representing in 
 different medallions various scenes from the life of 
 the Patriarch Joseph, the envied " dreamer of 
 dreams," the governor of all Egypt. 
 
 Dust and deepening twilight made this a very 
 unprofitable investigation, so he betook himself to his 
 high-backed arm-chair, replenished his fire, lit a small 
 lamp, with which he was provided, mixed a glass of 
 brandy and Tfater, drew from his saddle-bags sundry 
 comestibles, with which his good dame and Ralph 
 Home had amply supplied him ; from his capacious 
 pockets brought out a tobacco-box (the Black Bear 
 had provided a pipe), and the Chester Chronicle^ 
 evidently designing to make himself comfortable. 
 But the wind rushing in through sundry broken panes
 
 THE TWO TENANTS. 17 
 
 threatened to extinguish his lamp, so he rose wearily, 
 with a muttered protest against the trouble, and 
 with much ado contrived to close the heavy shut- 
 ters, whose rusty hinges creaked a louder protest 
 than his own. That done, he remembered his 
 pistols, and, half smiling at his own caution, ex- 
 amined the flints and the priming, before he laid 
 them on the table close at hand. Another return 
 to the edibles, a fresh dip into the Chester Chronicle^ 
 a whiff of the pipe, and Michael became aware 
 of another rustle than that of the paper he held ; 
 a decided rustle or flutter, which had indeed been 
 audible for son:ie time, had not he been too busy 
 with his knife and fork to heed it, but there it was, 
 just above his head, increasing every moment, then 
 followed a faint screech, a wilder flutter, another 
 scream, and another, louder — he grasped a pistol, 
 listened attentively — the voice continued, apparently 
 proceeding from the chimney ; he fired upwards, and 
 brought down — soot enough to have extinguished his 
 fire had it been smaller, and a nest of oivls ! 
 
 Amazement held him speechless for a moment, then 
 the roof rang with his exuberant laughter at the ridi- 
 culous catastrophe he had provoked. The cries of these 
 poor birds recalled him to himself. They were speedily 
 released from their uncomfortable quarters on the 
 heated hearth, when, discovering that they were more 
 frightened than hurt, he, ever compassionate, and also 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 IS god's providence house, 
 
 wise beyond bis time, tbougb a farmer, opened sb utters 
 and window and let tbe fluttering intruders out into 
 tbe nigbt. 
 
 His next care was tbe cboked-up fire ; tbat 
 awakened once more to warmtb and cbeerfulness, 
 be resumed bis pipe and newspaper, not, bowever, 
 before be bad vented a few expletives on bis own 
 stupidity for firing up tbe cbimney : " Common 
 sense migbt bave taugbt me wliat to expect, even if 
 my ears did not. I suppose tbe beat of tbe fire bad 
 but gradually warmed tbe old cbimney, and aroused 
 tbe slumbering inbabitants. It is a question wbetber 
 I or tbe owdets were most dismayed. Wbat a fool I 
 bave been, to be sure !" 
 
 Wbetber tbe brandy and water, tbe pipe, or tbe 
 dose of politics, or tbe fire, or bis long ride, proved 
 tbe strongest soporific, or wbetber tbey exerted a 
 combined influence, cbroniclers do not say ; but cer- 
 tain it is tbe paper and pipe dropped from bis bands, 
 bis eyelids drooped, and bis chin — be was asleep. 
 
 Asleep ! — Tbe nigbt w^as gone ; tbe sunlight 
 streamed tbrougb tbe window on a melancholy 
 woman with a pale face and flaxen hair, bending over 
 her embroidery frame with a preoccupied look. Her 
 husband and another man sat at the table drinking, 
 dicing, and quarrelling ; her husband was losing ; bis 
 companion had a strange gleam in bis malignant eye, 
 which ever and anon cast a repulsive glance at tbe
 
 THE TWO TENANTS. 19 
 
 fair embroideress. The stakes ran high ; he lost 
 fortune, home ; and, at the suggestion of the arch- 
 fiend with whom he played, with a gambler's increas- 
 ing infatuation, staked — what ! — not his wife ? Yes, 
 his wife, his startled wife, and lost ! The winner rose 
 with an exultant laugh to claim his prize ; but the 
 frenzied woman dashed past him, rushed along the 
 corridor, pursued by the ruffian to her own chamber ; 
 there was a brief struggle ; a knife lay within her reach ; 
 in an instant she had seized and plunged the glittering 
 blade in her long-troubled heart, and the crimson tide 
 welled out at the feet of her destroyer. There was a 
 hurried rush through the house of a madman towards 
 the river, a tramp of feet, a cry — Michael was awake ! 
 awake, and conscious of a dark figure standing by the 
 doorway. * 
 
 He caught up his remaining pistol and fired ; the 
 figure remained immovable. 
 
 A cold dew stood on the strong man's forehead. 
 Had he laughed at spirits all his life, to become the 
 dupe of imagination now ? 
 
 With a powerful effort he strode towards the dark 
 object; it was his own riding-cloak hung there by 
 himself when he first came in. He strove to laugh, 
 but this time it was a very feeble cachin nation, for 
 his dream was fresh in his mind, and footsteps 2vere 
 outside in the corridor. *' Can some one be playing 
 me a trick, or am I yet asleep ?" he asked himself. 
 
 c 2
 
 20 god's providence house. 
 
 "But no; those village chickens could not muster 
 heart to come hither. But yet" — listening, then — 
 *' I will see for myself ;" so saying, with lamp in one 
 hand and the exploded pistol in the other, he passed 
 into the corridor. 
 
 A tall, grey figure, rendered apparent by a light 
 emanating from itself, and surrounding it like a halo, 
 was olid in or towards the haunted chamber. He fol- 
 lowed — it entered, and disappeared as he reached 
 the door. 
 
 How it vanished, or where, he could not tell. With 
 his lamp he explored the room, but no creature could 
 lie find. There were the dark stains on the floor, the 
 disordered draperies and carpet, all telling of the long 
 past death-struggle, but no trace of living humanity. 
 
 Awed and perplexed in spite of* himself, Michael 
 returned to the drawing-room, unwilling to believe in 
 a ghostly visitant, yet it must be conceded, much less 
 assured in his scepticism. The only conclusion he 
 could arrive at, after due deliberation, was that the 
 place had unconsciously, without any volition of his 
 own, associated itself in his mind with the story of 
 the tragedy enacted there, so prompting his vivid 
 dream, and tlie dream in turn creating a temporary 
 hallucination winch had deceived his half-asleep 
 senses ; but he was wide awake noii\ and all that was 
 past. 
 
 Wide awake, indeed ! Neither paper, pipe^ nor
 
 THE TWO TENANTS. 21 
 
 brandy (and he partook of the last much more freely 
 than usual) could mduce the semblance of a doze. 
 His busy mind was occupied with endeavours to work 
 out a problem he found it impossible to solve. Had 
 he deceived himself or not ; were the seeming foot- 
 steps real or imaginary ; and what, in the former sup- 
 position, could produce them ? Was it the flapping 
 of ivy against the staircase and corridor windows; 
 or were there rats about the premises? But the 
 luminous grey figure — was that a reality or an optical 
 illusion ? It must be the latter ; he was convinced of 
 it. However conclusive this decision might be, he 
 found himself perpetually revolving the same ques- 
 tions in his mind, and invariably with the same 
 result. 
 
 Often during the night had he drawn his bulky 
 silver watch from its fob, and marvelled that the hours 
 lagged so heavily. He opened the shutters and waited 
 for the dawn, which came at length, grey and cold ; and 
 as soon as day had fairly set her foot upon the level 
 ground, betook himself to a pump in the court-yard, and 
 laved hands, neck, and face, to refresh himself after his 
 night-watch, and wash away his doubts. 
 
 Thus invigorated he sought the mysterious bed- 
 chamber, examined it in every nook and corner 
 looked behind the heavy hangings of bed and win- 
 dow, under the bed and dusty toilet-table drapery, 
 rapped at every panel, in hope to detect a secret
 
 22 god's providence house. 
 
 door by the hollow sound, pressed every prominent 
 knob in the carving in search of a hidden spring, 
 but all in vain ; he could discover no outlet from 
 the chamber, save the door by which he entered, 
 and another close by in the corner, at right angles 
 with it. The figure, if figure there had been, must 
 have passed through that doorway. Yet he remem- 
 bered seeing it cross the room and disappear as if 
 by magic near the fire-place. However, nothing 
 daunted, he opened this door, stepped across a square 
 landing into another room quite empty ; thence into 
 a second room, likewise desolate, and returned by 
 another door to the square landing on which all three 
 opened, then up an opposite staircase to similar rooms 
 above, also bare, back to the landing, and thence down 
 a flight of steps, which, turning at the bottom, ad- 
 mitted him at once into an extensive kitchen lying 
 immediately beneath the two rooms he had just ex- 
 plored, the stairs projecting into the apartment even 
 beyond the rude latch-held door, like the brown feet 
 of a huge giant from beneath his robe. This kitchen, 
 like the hall, was paved with diamond tiles, alternate 
 red and black, but smaller, and held two other doors, 
 one into the extensive grass-grown court-yard, the 
 other into the dining-room beneath the haunted 
 chamber, which had an entrance from the lower cor- 
 ridor as that had from the upper. Nimble mice 
 hurried out of his unwonted presence, and peered
 
 THE TWO TENANTS. 23 
 
 shyly from minute crevices at the strange intruder ; 
 otherwise all was still, all deserted ; and he abandoned 
 his search at last, more than ever convinced he was the 
 victim of bad brandy and pie -crust.
 
 24 
 
 CHAPTER IT. 
 
 MR. LATHMl'S FRIEND. 
 
 The appearance of the new squire at the Black 
 Bear was a signal for a general assemblage of the 
 village worthies, to slake at once their thirst and their 
 curiosity, notwithstanding the early morning hour. 
 Much they marvelled at his unperturbed aspect. The 
 barrier of deferential awe which fences round the 
 country gentleman was broken down by the unprece- 
 dented circumstances attending his advent amongst 
 them, and many were the inquiries how he had 
 spent the night, and what he had seen or heard? 
 His reply was a relation of his adventures with the 
 owls and his own shot-riddled cloak, followed by a laugh 
 at credulity in general, and ghosts in particular. A 
 very keen observer might have detected a latent want 
 of heartiness in his laugh, which echoed the newly- 
 born doubts in his mind, doubts unacknowledged even 
 to himself, but existing nevertheless. He laughed, 
 however, and loudly, too loudly perhaps; influenced,
 
 MR. Latham's friend. 25 
 
 no doubt, by his desire to allay the fears of the eager 
 throng so as to render them useful neighbours. 
 
 But his business at Shotwick was not to feast the 
 eyes or ears of a gaping crowd, but to obtain labourers 
 to clear the grounds and repair the dilapidated build- 
 ings under his own supervision. A bootless errand he 
 found it : men there wore, willing to work, but not 
 in or near the Grange : for some of the outlying fields 
 he certainly had a few tardy volunteers, but the im- 
 mediate object of his attention was the dwelling itself, 
 and that might have been a lazar-house, it was shunned 
 so universally. 
 
 So lEichael Ford had no resource but to seek work- 
 men elsewhere, and trust to time and his own example 
 to wear out their prejudices. He, however, engaged 
 the smith and wheelwright to make a new plough and 
 a cart, giving his orders with a promptness and prer 
 cision, which told a thorough knowledge of farming 
 implements and fitness for business. He was liberal 
 too, though not profuse ; would " pay well for work 
 when well done, but on no account tolerate bad ma- 
 terials or bad workmanship." And the two sturdy 
 craftsmen said, as he turned away, "Yen's the reeghfc 
 sort o' mon to work for !" And they were not far 
 wrong. 
 
 Michael had brought his saddle-bags with him from 
 the Grange, and was busied by the side of his horse 
 in expediting the adjustment of girth and stirrup prior
 
 26 'god's providence house. 
 
 to his departure, when, on raising his head, he observed 
 a young man of prepossessing appearance advancing 
 at a brisk pace. From his garb, gaiters, shot-belt, 
 dogs and gun, it was evident he meditated the de- 
 struction of game that bright autumnal morning ; and, 
 if his eye was only as true, and his hand as steady as 
 his step was firm, the birds might dread his approach. 
 The shock-headed ostler *' made a leg," and pulled 
 his forelock as he drew near, while Kalph Home, who 
 stood with his hands in his breeches pockets, and his 
 short fat legs astride blocking the doorway, saluted 
 the new comer with, " Good morning, Mester Latham, 
 I hope all your folks are hearty." 
 
 "Quite well, I thank you, Ealph; but I have a 
 message for Phoebe, where is she ?" 
 
 " Phoebe, here's young Mester Latham asking for 
 thee," bawled the inkeeper, as a sort of indirect two- 
 edged reply, and presently Phoebe made her appear- 
 ance, smoothing down the folds of a clean apron, and 
 giving a final pat to a coquettish little cap, much re- 
 sembling those worn at the present day as a badge of 
 servant-girlism. 
 
 " Good morrow, rosy cheeks ; are you very busy to- 
 day ? If not, my mother will be glad to see you at 
 the lodge, she has somewhat to say to you." 
 
 " Not so busy, Master George, but I can spare time 
 for Madame Latham, if she requires me. I have 
 kneaded the dough for our week's batch, but Molly
 
 MK. Latham's fpjexd. 27 
 
 can take charge of the baking for once in a way. I'll 
 be there in less than an hour. 
 
 Nodding his head familiarly, the young sportsman 
 turned sharply on his heel, and accidentally jostled 
 Mr. Ford, who was about to mount his horse. With a 
 courtesy very different to his late cursory leave-taking, 
 the young gentleman raised his hat, apologised, and 
 *' presumed he had the honour of addressing the new 
 owner of the Grange." 
 
 " Yes, young gentleman ; and, if I mistake not, I 
 see in you a descendant of that dissolute Latham who 
 brought desolation to the Grange." 
 
 ** You are mistaken, Mr. Ford, a relative only, not 
 a descendant. I trust my blood came to me through 
 purer channels." 
 
 *' As we are likely to be neighbours, I am glad to 
 hear it. At a future day I shall be pleased to become 
 better acquainted; now, I am in haste, to reach 
 Chester in order to procure workmen to restore the 
 old place, since I can obtain none here." 
 
 " Our paths lie together," said Mr. Latham, as he 
 strode along by the side of the horse, "can I be of 
 any service to you ?" 
 
 " If you can recommend a respectable builder in 
 the city to whom I can apply, you will assist me 
 much, for I am a stranger there." 
 
 " Mr. Peover of Watergate will, I think, be just 
 the person you need. He employs a large number of
 
 28 god's providexce house. 
 
 hands, and will contract for the entire work, so as to 
 relieve you of much trouble. Though somewhat 
 peculiar in manner, you will find him punctual and 
 straightforward : two uncommon qualifications in a 
 builder." 
 
 " I am obliged to you. I presume I can use your 
 name, Mr. Latham ?" 
 
 " Certainly. i\[r. Peover is not very accessible to 
 strangers, but he and my late father had many trans- 
 actions together, in fact, were old cronies ; and you 
 will find my name a passport to his good graces. But 
 I will not detain you : good morning." 
 
 "Good morning." Hats were raised with the 
 ceremonious courtesy of an age wo are too apt to 
 contemn ; and the rider, urging his steed forward, 
 passed out of the young man's sight, as he turned 
 from Shotvvick Lane into the turnpike road leading 
 from Parkgate to Chester. 
 
 A brisk ride of five or six miles brought him to the 
 ancient city. Entering at Northgate Street, he passed 
 slowly under the dark arch of the North gate, then a 
 cumbrous and incongruous erection, with the foetid and 
 revolting cells of the ancient gaol above, below, and 
 around it. Here, far away from Christian ken, w^ere 
 chambers hewn deep down in the solid rock, horrible 
 to contemplate. In one— the "Dead Man's Hole" 
 — where condemned criminals awaited, in loathsome 
 life, a doom less terrible than its disgusting grip,
 
 ME. LATHAM'S FRIEND. 29 
 
 snakes and other venomous reptiles gambolled in con- 
 genial iilth, whilst the only air which had access to its 
 depths came through pipes communicating with the 
 street. But the chamber of " Little Ease," so noto- 
 rious when Puritanic piety purged Chester of its loyal 
 sins, was surely a device of the devils. Imagiue a hole 
 hewn out in a rock, the breadth across from side to 
 side seventeen inches from the back to the inside of 
 the massive door. At the top seven inches, at the 
 shoirlders eight inches, and at the breast nine inches 
 and a half — with a device to lessen the height accord- 
 ingly as it was minded to torture the unfortunate 
 mortal crammed or jammed into the hideous recess. 
 Think over these dimensions as given by a contem- 
 porary writer, and then imagine man, woman, or child 
 compressed within for any crime, however heinous ! 
 
 But Michael Ford glanced upwards, as he -rode 
 under the frowning pile, ignorant of its uses or the 
 fearful secrets deep down beneath his horse's hoof- 
 tracks. And well for him was his ignorance, for he 
 had a kindly nature, and the bare suggestion of such 
 horrors might have interfered with his appetite and 
 digestion. As it was, he stopped at the Blue Posts 
 in IMercers Row, with a keen appreciation of the 'f 6A.'t-d^t-'*>i 
 savoury odours issuing from the remote kitchen of 
 the antiquated inn, and partook of his mid-day meal 
 with a relish provoked by a brisk ride over a rough 
 road, undisturbed by the proximity of the iDrison. He
 
 30 god's providence house. 
 
 had spent the night preceding his adventurous watch 
 at the Grange, at the Bhie Posts : and his satisfac- 
 tion at his entertainment had induced an inclination 
 to return, and, indeed, make the hostel his head- 
 quarters whenever business or pleasure should call 
 him to Chester. Whilst his own dinner was prepar- 
 ing, he had, as was his wont, visited tlie stables to 
 assure himself that Tony, his steed, was properly 
 cared for; and, after his own meal was despatched, 
 would fain have thrown his Barcelona handkerchief 
 over his head and indulged in a comfortable snooze, 
 as he was rather drowsy. But business required his 
 attention, and Michael never deferred to the morrow 
 that which should be done to-day ; so he yawned, 
 rose, stretched and shook himself, to dissipate the 
 heaviness hanging over him, and then sallied forth. 
 
 Bending his steps westwards, he soon gained his 
 destination in AVatergate Street. This street was 
 marked by that peculiar feature of Chester, namely, 
 the high level roivs, best, I think, described as arcade 
 above arcade, or as covered passages for pedestrians 
 under the overhanging houses, and over the lower row 
 of shops — shops in some cases on a level with the 
 street, in others sunk beneath it. Entrance to these 
 rows, arcades, galleries, or what you will, was obtained 
 by flights of steps here and there ; and as they con- 
 tained a second row of shops, built over the back 
 rooms of the basement story, where ladies might " go
 
 MR. Latham's friend. 31 
 
 shopping" in the wettest of weather, without danger 
 to satinet or bombazine, the Hackney Coach Act was 
 until very recently alnfiost a nullity, as far as Chester 
 was concerned. It must be understood that these 
 verandas, or arcades, bore no resemblance to anything 
 anywhere else, not to the Quadrant, not to Burlington 
 or Lowther Arcades, as they possessed no architectural 
 symmetry. The houses were of all shapes and pro- 
 portions, gables and fronts in heterogeneous confu- 
 sion ; sometimes pillars supported the upper floors of 
 the houses, in other places blank, and often unsightly 
 walls; and, as may be imagined, light was not too 
 strong in these mercantile stores.* 
 
 The abode of Mr. Peover was one of the quaintest 
 houses in this extraordinary locality : it was an 
 antique black-and-white timber-and-plaster building, 
 with its gable towards the street, from which a flight 
 of steps gave access to the door in the Row. The 
 upper rooms of the house were supported by rude 
 wooden pillars, and a balustrade as rude served to 
 protect children, tipplers, or other light-headed tra- 
 vellers from involuntary summersaults into the street 
 below. 
 
 Two hundred years before, when this was a new 
 house, it had been the residence of some man of 
 rank, who had left the impress of his greatness in 
 
 * Though the Rows of Chester are spoken of in the past tense, in 
 most cases the description is equally applicable in the present day.
 
 32 god's providence house. 
 
 armorial bearings carved on the beams ; but it had 
 seen many changes since that period, and in the 
 seventeenth century been marked by a special provi- 
 dence. 
 
 When the plague ravaged the city, dealing death 
 and desolation on every hand ; when the pest-carts 
 traversed the streets at midnight, with their mouth- 
 muffled attendants announcing their awful errand by 
 the ringing beli and the portentous cry " Bring forth 
 your dead 1" when the wail for the dead was subdued 
 by the care for the dying ; when the dread of infection 
 winnowed households of their chaff, and left but the 
 pure grain behind to its offices of love or mercy ; when 
 the uncoffined dead were shot out of the pest-carts 
 into one common grave, without mournere or funereal 
 rites, amidst tlie hideous jests and brutal depravity of 
 the moral lepers, who were at once undertakers and 
 sextons ; wdien every other house bore the plague- 
 stricken sign of the red-cross, this house alone escaped 
 the dread contaojion. Thouii^h delirium and fever 
 raved and raged around it, in this one house was 
 health. To mark his latitude for this sijrnal immu- 
 nity, the owner had caused to be carved on one of the 
 ci OSS-beams in front of the favoured dwelling, the in- 
 scription, " 1652. God's Providence is mine In- 
 TIERITAXCE. 1652." And it is still known as *' God's 
 Providence House." 
 
 Under that designation Michael had been directed
 
 MR. Latham's frtexd. 33 
 
 to the house of Mr. Latham's friend, the builder, by- 
 some half-ragged urchins playing at duck-stone on the 
 causeway ; and, as in crossing the street, he paused 
 to read the remarkable record, unaware of the tradi- 
 tion attached to the spot, by some mental process, 
 apart from his thought or will, he seemed to identify 
 the individual he came to seek with the text he had 
 just perused, and wondered if there was really any 
 connection between house and owner. 
 
 An elderly woman, of grave exterior, opened the 
 door in answer to Mr. Ford's summons ; she was 
 dressed in a gown of sombre hued stuff, with no trim- 
 ming or adornments ; a clear cambric kerchief lay in 
 regular folds across her bosom, and passed under her 
 bod dice ; her smoothly banded hair was covered by a 
 linen mob-cap with a broad band of black ribbon 
 around the head ; and an a]jron, also of white linen, 
 completed the attire of as respectable a serving 
 woman as might well be met with even in those 
 days. 
 
 ** Is Mr. Peover at home ?" inquired Michael. 
 
 *' Yes ! my master is at home,'' was the quiet 
 reply. 
 
 " Can I see him ?" 
 
 " What may be your business ?" was the rejoinder, 
 in the same quiet tone. 
 
 " That is my affair »and Mr. Peover's, I should 
 think !" 
 
 VOL. 1. D
 
 34 god's providence house. 
 
 ^' Yes, sir, no doubt ; but my master never sees any 
 stranger who Avill not state his business first." 
 
 " Yery well, if that be the case, say that my name 
 is Ford ; that I come from Northwich, and am re- 
 commended to him to repair an old mansion for me." 
 Gravely inclining her head in token of assent, she 
 left him standing in the gloomy passage while she 
 went up-stairs with her message. A door opened, and 
 he heard a sharp, quick, but not unpleasant voice, 
 say, '' Can't see him, can't see him ; don't know him ; 
 too much work on hand ; can't undertake the job !" 
 
 There was a faint murmur, as of a female voice ; 
 then the returning footsteps of the woman, inter- 
 rupted by the former speaker, " Mayhap you are 
 right;" and in raised tones, "Stop, Margery! ask 
 where the house is, and who recommended me." 
 
 Margery, as though quite accustomed to the office 
 of interpreter between the I milder and his customers, 
 on descending, said : 
 
 " Master desires to know where the house is situ- 
 ated, and also the name of the person who gave the 
 recommendation." 
 
 Had not Michael Ford been prepared for Mr. 
 Peover's peculiarities, it is probable he would have 
 left the house at once, and sought a builder elsewhere. 
 As it was, he calmly replied, "Say to your master 
 that the premises are those of Grenvilie Grange, the 
 gentleman Mr. Latham !"
 
 MR. Latham's friend. 35 
 
 Again the sober domestic ascended the stairs with 
 deliberate step, to convey the information required. 
 
 Michael heard a chair pushed hastily back, as if by 
 the astonished speaker, whose ejeculation : '* Latham 
 and Grenville Grange ! Latham and Grenville 
 Grange ! Impossible ! such a thing was never heard 
 of; it's some trick, some trick!" was followed by the 
 low murmurs of the feminine voice. Then came, 
 " Show the gentleman into the office, Margery ; I'll 
 think about it." 
 
 So the "gentleman" was shown into the *' office," a 
 small low wainscoted room dimly lighted by the 
 window fronting the row. A massive oak table, 
 drawn close to the window, was covered with plans 
 and papers, whilst the walls were decorated with 
 various architectural designs, framed and un framed, 
 In one corner was a paviour's rammer and pick, 
 with sundry masons' tools, the whole in a state of 
 neatness, precision, and freedom from dust, more in 
 accordance with Margery's mien than her master's 
 abrupt tones. As it took Mr. Peover some little time 
 to " think about it," Michael had leisure to scan the 
 place, and note the discrepancy between the paving 
 tools and the papers. 
 
 Presently Mr. Peover, having evidently thought 
 about it satisfactorily, descended the stairs with a 
 rapid step, and entered the room as if with a jerk. 
 He was a man of middle height, ^viry, yet well pro- 
 
 D 2
 
 36 god's providence house. 
 
 portioned, with unpowdered silvery hair, prominent 
 nose, irresolute mouth, and penetrating, restless, 
 anxious eyes ; which, however, gleamed with an in- 
 telligent and kindly light beneath his massive brows. 
 His dress was plain and simple ; not a speck was on 
 his snuff-brown kerseymere suit ; no embroidery was 
 round the pocket-flaps of either coat or lengtliy vest ; 
 his breeches Avere fastened below the knees with plain 
 steel buckles, corresponding with the wide ones which 
 spanned his instep to secure the polished shoes ; 
 his black worsted hose, of ribbed knitting, spoke of 
 household industry ; while the neckerchief and un- 
 frilled, unruffled shirt were faultless in fit and white- 
 ness. 
 
 A more marked contrast between the two men 
 in outward seeming could scarcely be imagined, not 
 merely on account of Mr. Ford's lofty proportions and 
 muscular frame, his manly face and resolute eye, but 
 in apparel. Never over particular about his garb so 
 that it was of good materials, tolerable fit, and suited 
 the requirements of his life and station, he was to- 
 day in unusual disorder. His hasty morning toilet at 
 the pump, though sufficient to remove soot and dust 
 from his skin, had scarcely made him presentable in the 
 city; his fine black hair was in disorder; his neckcloth 
 awry ; his top-boots, hat, and cloak dusty ; and the 
 latter, besides, pierced with numberless small holes, 
 reducing it in appearance to a moth-eaten garment.
 
 MR. Latham's friend. 37 
 
 But Mr. Peover could see a man under his clothes, 
 and his first words were a brief apology for detaining 
 him, very brief and characteristic : " Sorry to have 
 kept you, Mr. Ford ;. couldn't help it ; always do it ; 
 don't like strangers; seldom see them ! Be s'eated" 
 (indicating a seat with his hand) ; *' and now, before I 
 make any promises I might not like to keep, nor dare 
 to break, answer me a question or two ; stop/' seeing 
 Michael about to speak, " I don't ask the questions 
 from curiosity ; — nor impertinently — certainly not 
 impertinently ; but to resolve doubts ; to resolve 
 doubts." 
 
 " Anything consistent with propriety, or essential to 
 the adjustment of our business, I am willing to answer, 
 but nothing more, sir." 
 
 " Well, well ! quite right ! Are you, th^ owner or ^ 
 tenant of G^d/s^^videnceJH^uae !?'' j t/l^j H^ImjD \i^^ 
 
 " The owner." 
 
 *' By purchase or inheritance ?" 
 
 " By inheritance, through my wife, who was Mar- 
 garet Grenville, the last of the name." 
 
 " Um ! How came George Latham to send you to 
 me ?" 
 
 "I saw him by accident, and asked the name of a 
 respectable builder." 
 
 "Accident, accident! there are no such things as 
 accidents ; there is a Providence ; no accidents 1" 
 
 " I do not see any very special Providence directing
 
 38 god's providence house. 
 
 my choice of a contractor to repair an ill-conditioned 
 house." 
 
 " Ill-conditioned, indeed ! No Providence directing 
 a Latham to help, however remotely, to repair the 
 ruin caused by a Latham ? We differ — we differ." 
 
 " Well, sir, this is irrelevant to my business. Are 
 you willing to take the matter in hand, or shall I seek 
 elsewhere ?" 
 
 ''Not irrelevant, not! Don't think you'd find 
 another man in Chester would venture his men to put 
 trowel or plummet on that Grange. Sure not — sure 
 not !" 
 
 *'Am I to understand, then, that you will contract 
 for the repairs ?" 
 
 " Certainly, certainly ; anything for George Latham ; 
 fine young man ; son of my only friend." 
 
 This decided, Michael proceeded to state his require- 
 ments, and, with a view to their better understanding, 
 it was arranged that the two should ride over the fol- 
 lowing day, and give the house and its appurtenances 
 a minute inspection. Then, with much cordiality, the 
 eccentric builder, discovering that it must be four 
 o'clock, invited ]\rr. Ford to have a homely dish of 
 tea with himself and wife ; and when i\Iichael pleaded 
 his disordered habiliments as an excuse, muttered : 
 "Dress, dress ; what's dress but the heart's disguise? 
 Do you think I was always as prim as now? not I; 
 not I; I wore hodden grey, not kerseymere, and
 
 MR. Latham's friend. 39 
 
 I handled the tools in that corner in my young 
 days." 
 
 *' Indeed ; you surprise me !" 
 
 *' Surprise, or not, 'tis true. I keep tliose imple- 
 ments as an antidote to pride, when I feel it rising ; 
 wealth is sorely provocative of that great sin — 
 sorely !" 
 
 ^' But surely there is an honest pride attached to 
 the wealth gained by persevering industry." 
 
 Ah, well, yes ; perhaps so ; but " and he 
 
 hesitated ; "that pick and rammer keep down pride 
 — keep down pride ! They are just reminders ; re- 
 minders ! That's right, sir, leave your hat and cloak 
 here ; now follow me, and don't break your shins up 
 this dim staircase !" 
 
 As he said this, he led the way up the uneven 
 stairs, and, talking all the way, ushered the acquaint- 
 ance of an hour into the household room, and presence 
 of his wife ; " Martha, my dear, I have brought a guest 
 to share your hospitality ; Mr. Ford, Mrs. Peover." 
 
 This was a rare occurrence, for he held aloof from 
 acquaintances, and his only friend had passed away 
 before him. George Latham's name must, indeed, 
 have been a talisman, since it proved a passport to his 
 heart and hearth. 
 
 " The lady rose on their entrance ; acknowledged 
 Michael's formal bow with as formal a curtsey ; and 
 after a few words of welcome, reached an additional
 
 40 god's providence house. 
 
 cup, saucer, and spoon, from a corner-cupboard, and 
 resumed her place at the tea-board. 
 
 This was, literally, a board ; being an oval tray of 
 polished Honduras mahogany, with a sliglitly raised 
 edge ; the cups were those tiny handleless importa- 
 tions from China, now only seen in old curiosity shops, 
 or preserved as family relics, their very size bearing 
 testimony how costly was the fragrant and refreshing 
 beverage they held : the dumpling-shaped tea-pot and 
 the slop-basin corresponded in size and gi'otesque 
 pattern with the cups and saucers ; the silver teaspoons, 
 necessarily small and light, were delicately shaped, 
 with shell-like bowls : the sugar-basket and cream- 
 ewer of silver filigree, were lined with jasper, and the 
 (to us) Liliputian tea equipage was completed by a pair 
 of quaintly carved mother-o'-pearls sugar-tongs hinged 
 with tortoise-shell. Nor must the casket which con- 
 tained the precious leaf be overlooked, since the old 
 lad}^ herself pointed it out to her guest as the work 
 and gift of the unfortunate Mistress Grenville, thirty 
 years before, on tlie day they both w^ere mairied ; 
 and she consequently resigned her post of lady's maid. 
 It was a tea-caddy of paper filigree work ; a class of 
 elegant trifling-with-time industry, extinct since the 
 schooldays of our grandmothers. On a frame of 
 common wood were gummed closely rolled strips of 
 variously coloured paper, the one set of edges being 
 fastened to the box, the other presenting its many con-
 
 MR. Latham's fpjend. 41 
 
 volutions to view. These little rolls or filigi'ees, 
 were arranged in different devices, the rolls being 
 sometimes slightly opened and compressed into the 
 forms of leaves, petals, &c. It was tedious work ; yet 
 if it exercised j^atience and ingenuity, and filled the 
 vacuum now supplied by the pen and press, it was 
 not altogether '' busy idleness." 
 
 The tea was, however, but a small component of the 
 evening meal ; Margery supplied the table with home- 
 made cakes, and sundry appetising solids, very accept- 
 able to a man away from the comforts of his own 
 home, and Michael did full justice to the viands. 
 During the repast, preceded by a reverent grace, he 
 had little leisure to observe his hostess, but the quiet 
 dignity of her manner impressed him ; she had 
 evidently long outlived the state of dependence, or 
 had been a lady's maid of su^^erior order even then. 
 During the converse which succeeded, in which she 
 bore a fluent yet intelligent part, he scanned her 
 more narrowly ; her connection with the Grenvilles 
 having unconsciousW invested her with an interest 
 apart from herself. In person she was spare, her face 
 shrewd, yet benevolent ; her clear hazel eye varied in 
 expression with every turn in the conversation, but re- 
 flection and self-possession were dominant in every 
 lineament. Her dress might have been a dupli- 
 cate of Margery's in aiTangement, though not in mate- 
 rial. The cap. kerchief, and apron, were Indian muslin,
 
 42 god's providence house. 
 
 or French cambric, the black gown not homely stuff, 
 but rich French silk, which rustled as she moved ; 
 and her j^eg-heeled velvet shoes had silver buckles. 
 
 She had plied her knitting-pins very equably during 
 the evening ; but when Mr. Ford, pleading fatigue, 
 rose to depart, she laid her knitting aside to prepare 
 for him a cup of mulled elder wine, made by herself, 
 and which she recommended as an excellent prepara- 
 tion for the pillow. 
 
 Alas ! for the loss of those homely household habits, 
 which, in the home manufacture of diet and drinks, 
 set adulteration at defiance, and made hospitality 
 genial and genuine ! Our boasted progress is in many 
 things but a retrograde movement. 
 
 IMichael could not decline the cordially offered 
 " night-cap," but departed immediately after he had 
 donned it, and, by eight o'clock, was soundly asleep 
 in an exceedingly somnolent room at the Blue 
 Posts. 
 
 Seven in the morning saw Michael and Mr. Peover 
 at the door of the inn, mounted and ready to depart 
 for the Grange, "Early to bed and early to rise," 
 being alike the maxim of country and town. The 
 autumnal morning was grey and cold ; the dust 
 eddied in whirlwinds in the streets ; in the open 
 country the withered leaves danced about in fantastic 
 gyrations ; the branches of the scattered trees tossed 
 wildly in the fitful breeze, and showered their faded
 
 MR. Latham's friend. 43 
 
 foliaofe down as the Mammonite casts off his friends 
 when their power of service is past. On the pasture 
 lands the sheep huddled together; the cows tossed 
 their heads and whisked their tails in frantic attempts 
 to disperse their irritating enemies — the flies ; and the 
 swallows, not yet sure it was time to depart to 
 other climes, skimmed lightly over the surface of the 
 pools. 
 
 " We shall have rain before long," observed Michael, 
 drawing his cloak closely around him ; " if we do not 
 hasten we shall scarcely complete our survey of the 
 grounds before it is down upon us." 
 
 " Rain, rain ! I see no signs of rain ; there is a cool 
 breeze, but the clouds seem light and fleecy — very 
 fleecy." 
 
 " Ah, you are not a farmer. The clouds are fleecy, 
 and there are some dark ones scudding on to join the 
 black mass hanging over Shotwick ; but, indeed, to 
 me everything around speaks of rain, from the rooks 
 overhead to the grass by the wayside, or the turning 
 leaves." 
 
 " Neither I nor my horse like a gallop, Mr. Ford, 
 but I would rather have the shaking than the soaking ; 
 bad for rheumatism — bad for rheumatism," and he 
 urged his horse forward as he spoke. 
 
 " If the dread of the Grange extends to Chester, 
 how do you think your workmen will relish their task 
 there ?" inquired Michael, after a pause.
 
 4i god's trovidence house. 
 
 " Shan't ask them — shan't ask them : employ no 
 Chester men — no Chester men ! have a medley from 
 all counties ; mean to use the freshest strangers in 
 this work." 
 
 " May not the Shotwick people infect them ?" 
 
 ** Give 'em no chance — no chance. Send the men 
 down by boat in the morning with provisions ; take 
 them back in the evening same way. Give them 
 plenty of good ale, good ale ; no need to go to the 
 village for bad." 
 
 ]\Iichael smiled at the old man's sagacity, and com- 
 plimented him thereon. They had now reached 
 Shotwick ; ducks and geese waddled noisily away 
 from the approaching hoofs, heads were thrust from 
 windows and doors, shrill voices called children out 
 of tlie way, and amidst the clamour, the horsemen 
 dismounted at the Black Bear, and tested the ale, 
 pronounced on trial " Not so bad — not so bad, after 
 all." 
 
 The horses properly cared for, Michael ordered a 
 quantity of refreshments to be sent after them to the 
 Grange. 
 
 " What for ? What for ?" asked l^Ir. Peover. 
 
 " Ourselves, or the w^orkmen who follow us, if ive 
 do not need them," was the reply. 
 
 " Th' ostler says he dar'na go ^Y\ them things to 
 the Grange, squoire ; what's to be dun ?" asked Ralph 
 Home, with a rueful countenance.
 
 MR. Latham's friend. 45 
 
 " Never mind, Kalph, send pretty Phoebe to me ; 
 I think we can manage it between us." 
 
 Phoebe came with a look of dismay on her pretty 
 face, and dropping a curtsey, said timidly, " Please 
 sir, father says you say I am to help you to carry the 
 basket. I could not do it, sir ; I could not, indeed." 
 
 " Nay, Phoebe, I said I thought we might manage 
 it between us, but not in the way you imagine. 
 Suppose you were to go down to the village, do you 
 not think a certain young smith or wheelwright 
 would, either of them, do my errand to oblige you ? 
 1 observed some very significant glances on Tuesday. 
 What say you ?" 
 
 Phoebe blushed like a poppy, hung her head, 
 played with the strings of her apron, then looking 
 askance at Mr. Peover, said slyly, " I'll try, sir." 
 
 What arts or blandishments she used is not for me 
 to reveal, but she " tried" her powers of persuasion 
 very effectually, returning in a very short time, ac- 
 companied by Miles Wood the wheelwright, and 
 leaving Matthew Sparks hammering angrily at the 
 shoe of a horse then standing in the forge, and which 
 he could not leave. A bright smile and a sweet 
 word rewarded his complaisance, as Miles shouldered 
 the heavy basket, and followed the gentlemen, with 
 a heart so light he scarcely felt the weight of the 
 load on his shoulders. Pretty Phoebe !
 
 46 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE SECOND NLGHT AT THE GRANGE. 
 
 The wall which enclosed the estate was found to be 
 in a most ruinous condition, and Michael suggested 
 the probability that the materials had been carried 
 away to build sties and wood-sheds in the village, 
 but Mr. Peover assured him not a human being in 
 Shotwick, or for twenty miles round, would have 
 dared to disturb a single stone. 
 
 "No, no," said he; "gipsies may have camped 
 here ; being undisturbed, built temporary huts with 
 loose stones, but no neighbour has touched them with 
 the legend fresh in his mind ; no, no !" 
 
 And so it proved ; more than one of these rude 
 sheds being found in different directions. The repair 
 of the w^all Mr. Peover decided to be the first 
 consideration. Mr. Ford was more anxious about 
 the house itself, thinking the land and its defences 
 might well wait until he and his family were on the
 
 THE SECOND NIGHT AT THE GRANGE. 47 
 
 spot, and he 'could superintend the clearing of the 
 grounds in person. 
 
 "' " Wrong there, ^vrong there ; knew Mistress Ford 
 when she was a schoolgirl ; very mild, very quiet, 
 but would grieve to see the old place such a wilderness ; 
 must be trimmed ! must be altered !" 
 
 " Knew Margaret ? She never named you to me." 
 
 " Suppose not ; won't remember me. Was not a 
 rich man then ; used to work for Sir Luke ; saw her 
 gentle face when I went for orders. More than five- 
 and-twenty years ago — five-and-twenty years ! She 
 was like a child I had, older, but like, very like :" the 
 old man continued, sadly, " My Martha died — your 
 Margaret lived, and made me think what my girl 
 might have been had she lived too. My bud was 
 early cropped, I hope to bloom in heaven— I hope to 
 bloom in heaven !" and he doffed his hat reverently 
 as he spoke. 
 
 "You have no children then, I presume, Mr. 
 Peover?" inquired his companion, as they traversed 
 the weed-tangled paths. 
 
 " None of my own ! I've a wild slip of a nephew, 
 who broke his mother's heart, and has done his best 
 to break mine — to break mine ! I sent him to 
 school, took him at fourteen as an apprentice ; — would 
 have made a man of him : he was lazy, incorrigibly 
 lazy ; one Chester fair met some scamps lazy as him- 
 self and thrice as wicked, learned tlieir trade faster
 
 48 god's proyidexce house. 
 
 than mine, robbed me, ran away, and I have seen 
 him but once since— but once since !" 
 
 '"• What do you mean to do with this moat and 
 rotten bridge ?" he resumed, giving it a kick which 
 sent the splinters flying in all directions ; " fill it up, 
 I suppose ? no use now fighting days are over. Better 
 grow grass than duckweed and tadpoles, eh ?" 
 
 " That was my intention ; but let us pass round the 
 house ; I see the storm gathering, and as you spoke 
 of landing workmen, I should like to see how such a 
 thing is to be accomplished, the river lies so far below 
 the rock." 
 
 " Follow, I'll show you !" said the old man. 
 
 He threaded a tortuous path under the trees, across 
 a second old bridge, through a gateless gateway on to 
 the green sward beyond the walls, thence in a direct 
 line to a flight of broad steps cut in the face of the 
 rock, the lowest washed by the tide. 
 
 '' When the Grange was inhabited a boat used to 
 be moored alongside these steps for pleasure -trips ; 
 the ring which held the cable you see remains ; the 
 boat is gone, and the people — and the people !" 
 
 " There is a boat close under the rocks now," said 
 Michael, "don't you think there is something very 
 suspicious about that craft ?"^ 
 
 '' Um ! ah ! rather ; ugly looking fellows those ; 
 hug the shore pretty closely. But what ? God help 
 us !'^
 
 THE SECOND NIGHT AT THE GRANGE. 49 
 
 Michael grasped the old man's arm, or he would 
 have fallen into the water. 
 
 " What is the matter, my good friend? You seem 
 ill, faint, perturbed." 
 
 *' Nothing, nothing ! a sudden sickness; went too 
 near the edge, perhaps ; am better now — better 
 now." 
 
 His white face and restless eyes gave a blank 
 denial to his words, but whatever his emotion, or 
 whatever its cause, he soon rallied, and led the way 
 back, discussing alterations and improvements with 
 Mr. Ford as usual ; a little more abruptly and dis- 
 jointedly, perhaps, but only a little. 
 
 They entered the house just in time to escape the 
 fury of the storm. Heavy drops had for some time 
 been rattling on the leaves overhead, or plashing at 
 intervals into the green moat, but now came down a 
 perfect deluge, not to be encountered by kerseymere 
 or broadcloth with impunity, and Mackintoshes were 
 not. 
 
 The well-filled basket Miles had deposited in the 
 porch (departing precipitately, his errand done), was 
 lifted into the hall by Michael, with a complacent 
 remark on his own forethought. 
 
 He led the way to the room he had previously 
 occupied, kindled a fire with the fuel there provided, 
 and proceeded to lay out the good things Miles had 
 brought and Ralph supplied. It was long past noon, 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 god's trovidexce house. 
 
 so that dinner, however rudely spread, however homely 
 in character, was something more than desirable to 
 the two hungry men. 
 
 '• Not one of those glasses ! I could not drink 
 from one of those glasses. I should shudder ! They 
 were touched years back by unholy lips ; they are 
 tainted — they are tainted !" was the sudden exclama- 
 tion of Mr. Peover, as Michael, remembering his 
 sudden faintness at the landing-steps, offered him 
 wine in a glass taken from the table. 
 
 " I'm not superstitious, but I would have preferred 
 one of the lower rooms," continued he ; " why did 
 you pitch on this one ?" 
 
 '• Because it was furnished. I could not very well 
 eat and sleep and make merry in an empty room, in 
 a desolate house ; nor did I care to haul these cum- 
 bersome tables and chairs down-stairs, so took the 
 good Providence had provided, and made myself as 
 comfortable as 1 could under the circumstances." 
 
 " Providence ! Do not misuse the word, it " 
 
 *• Nay, it is your own ; you said there were no 
 accidents — nothing but Providence !" 
 
 '•' Providence provided, say you ? — nay the devil 
 provided these. The work which left this room shut 
 up with its sinful secret, when other rooms were filled 
 with the life and hope and love of fresh tenants, was 
 the work of the arch-fiend — Satan himself I Satan 
 himself !"
 
 THE SECOXD ^'IGHT AT THE GKAXGE. 01 
 
 " But was there not a Providence over all — iDscrii- 
 table it may be — bat Providence still ?" 
 
 " You are right ! you are right ! It must be so. 
 ' God's Providence is mine inheritance !' " and the old 
 man looked upwards as he spoke, and once more 
 reverently raised his three-coraered hat, which had not 
 yet been laid aside. 
 
 " Well," said Michael, *''I always carry with me a 
 pocket-flask and drinkiog-horn. I have found the 
 latter useful scores of times. Perhaps you will not 
 object to that, if I fill it ?" 
 
 The good wine served to recruit the old gentleman's 
 spirits, and he discussed the cold fowl, boiled ham, 
 and o-Qod Cheshire cheese, in utter oblivion of the 
 
 o 
 
 angTy storm without. The continued rain put a stop 
 to further out-door inspection, but the interior of the 
 premises required examination, which was given 
 without delay. 
 
 After some consideration, it was arranged that the 
 entire contents of the two " haunted chambers '' 
 should be removed to a large attic over the central 
 hall, and the door built up. so as to remove out of 
 sight completely, everything that could remind Mrs. 
 Ford of her cousin's miserable fate, or keep alive 
 superstitious feeling. The blood-stained flooring was 
 to be partially relaid, in case the plane would not 
 su(I)ce to remove the objectionable marks. The 
 chamber itself Michael proposed converting into a 
 
 E 2 
 
 i gp iLLINCiS
 
 52 god's providence house. 
 
 cheese-room ; the apartment beneath, from its prox- 
 imity to the kitchen, he would use as a general 
 household room ; and serving maids might occupy 
 the chambers over the kitchens, the men servants the 
 attics above all. The lower rooms of the correspond- 
 ing wing would be required for dairy, press-room, &c. ; 
 brewing, washing, and other domestic matters, might 
 be carried on in the out-buildings abutting on the 
 central block, beneath the stained window of the 
 staircase ; while the upper portion of the right wing 
 should be set apart as store-rooms and bed-chambers, 
 for his own family or their guests. The ancient 
 drawing-room Michael determined to furnish ele- 
 gantly and modishly, to destroy as far as possible 
 all connection with the past, and gratify at once 
 his wife and daughter. The small rooms beneath, 
 opening from the entrance-hall, he planned as 
 private rooms ; that on the left for himself, on 
 the right for Ahce ; nothing doubting that all 
 these arrangements would meet the views of Mar- 
 garet, who, it must be abided, seldom if ever dis- 
 puted his will, or expressed an opinion counter to 
 his own. 
 
 While he was thus busied in fitting the building to 
 his own requirements, for profit or the comfort of 
 those connected with him, the astute builder, armed 
 with an inch rule, pencil and pocket-book, measured 
 floors and windows, made calculations, and jerked
 
 THE SECOND NIGHT AT THE GRANGE. 53 
 
 from place to place, with a startling motion, some- 
 thing like a marionette. 
 
 The survey completed, from topmost attic to the very- 
 vaults and cellaring, the twain returned to their fire 
 in the drawing-room, and ruefully surveyed the 
 watery waste without. The day was far spent, but 
 the storm was not : had every cloud contained the 
 concentrated tears of a thousand Niobes they could 
 not have been more lachrymose. 
 
 Neither cared to pass the night there, yet neither 
 saw much prospect of tramping to Shotwick without 
 being drenched to the skin, even through his riding- 
 cloak, and neither had a change of raiment with him. 
 
 Mr. Peover thought of his rheumatism, shuddered, 
 and fidgeted about the room very discontentedly. 
 
 Michael's adventure of Monday night flashed across 
 his mind, but was as quickly dismissed, and he 
 resigned himself to circumstances very stoically. 
 
 " What think you of my forethought now, Mr. 
 Peover ?" as they both commenced a fresh attack on 
 the roast and boiled, asked Michael. 
 
 " Very sensible, very sensible, indeed ! We should 
 have had only a choice between famishing and drown- 
 ing but for your precaution — fine thing to be weather- 
 wise!" 
 
 " And a fine thing to be penny-wise, if not pound- 
 foolish at the same time. Think of Sir Luke leaving 
 this good house to go to ruin, and these fine pasture-
 
 54 god's providence house. 
 
 lands to run waste for a baby-fancy that would shame 
 a schoolgirl. I mean to reclaim them, and make 
 the good spirits of a miited family chase all the evil 
 spirits out of remembrance." 
 
 " Other tenants have tried that. I suppose you 
 know that Sir Luke let it twice ?" replied Mr. 
 Peover. 
 
 " Yes ; but would insist on leaving these two rooms 
 intact, the old blockhead ! as if closing a mystery up 
 in two tabooed chambers was not enough in itself to 
 create a ghost. J now, in clearing away the tracks of 
 the tragedy, clear away all the mystery, and hope to 
 clear the premises of all its ghostly tenants. By the 
 way, let there be fresh and good locks on all the 
 outer doors. I don't believe in ghosts, but I do believe 
 in thieves. Some rogues broke into Ford-brook 
 Farm about three years since, and made free with 
 more than was pleasant ; however, they did not get 
 off scot-free ; I always keep my pistols loaded with 
 small shot, and I know I gave one rascal a peppering 
 as he crossed the stile." 
 
 '^ Did you see their faces ?' 
 
 " No ; but one of them left his tools behind, and 
 tliey were branded J. P. Country justices and con- 
 stables strove to trace the owner, but I grew weary of 
 the cost of their fruitless labour, and abandoned the 
 pursuit. I kept the tools, however, and some day 
 may show them to you."
 
 THE SECOND XIGIIT AT TPIE GRANGE. 55 
 
 Mr. Peover sat with his back to the Hght, his elbow 
 on the table, and his head on his hand, during this 
 conversation, so that Michael failed to observe tlie 
 pallor on the old man's brow, or the faintness which 
 had seized him for the second time that afternoon, 
 but seeing that he was not pursuing his meal pressed 
 him to eat. Mechanically yet nervously he poured 
 out a horn of wine, and swallowed it at a gulp, then 
 resumed his neglected knife and fork, which, how- 
 ever, rattled on his plate like castanets. 
 
 " Dear me, how you shiver ! perhaps the draught 
 from those broken panes annoys you. Come on this 
 side, Mr. Peover, I am younger and stronger than 
 you," said Michael, kindly, " I ought to have 
 remembered your rheumatism. Finished, have you ? 
 'Tis a pity eating and drinking should come to an 
 end, when there is nothing else to do ; enforced 
 leisure lays so heavily!" continued he, walking to the 
 window with his hands behind him as he spoke. 
 " Not much chance of our quitting our quarters to- 
 night !" added he, resuming his seat, as the mutterings 
 of distant thunder broke on the ear. " I hope they 
 will take care of our horses, those ostlers are such 
 knavish dogs. I should have a lamp somewhere ; 
 oh, here it is ! Til light it, close the shutters, have a 
 pipe, and try to make m3^self at home. Hojne ! I 
 wonder what they are doing there ! 
 
 During this dropping fire of desultory exclamations,
 
 56 god's providence house. 
 
 Michael had been moving about, clearing away the 
 remnants of the rude supper, Hghting the lamp, 
 closing the shutters, and had been down-stairs to 
 secure the outer doors. But Mr. Peover had never 
 replied : he sat abstractedly gazing at the embers 
 of the wood fire, as though wrapt in contemplation. 
 Michael moving about had not noted his unwonted 
 silence, but sitting down to his pipe the changed 
 manner of his companion attracted his attention. 
 
 " Come, Mr. Peover, do not give way to dulness, 
 because you are shut up in an empty house for the 
 night. There are worse shelters than this in the 
 world, and many a hapless wretch exposed to the 
 storm without a shelter. Let us be thankful, not dis- 
 contented, at our lot." 
 
 " I am not discontented. I wish every poor creature 
 was as well housed ; but I feel unusually depressed — 
 ill, in fact, ill. I shall be better soon. No, thank 
 you, I don't smoke — don't smoke." 
 
 Michael puffed away in silence, sipping his wine 
 occasionally. Suddenly he drew his pistols forth from 
 a pouch-pocket in his riding- cloak, laid them on the 
 table, and returned to his pipe. 
 
 Mr. Peover grew more conversational ; but the 
 rattle of the thunder over head soon awed the pair 
 into comparative silence. Meanwhile the night wore 
 away ; Michael persuaded Mr. Peover to make a pillow 
 of one cloak, a coverlet of the other, and go to sleep
 
 THE SECOND NIGHT AT THE GRANGE. 57 
 
 with his head on the table. For himself, he resolved 
 to remain awake and watch, though he kept his 
 resolve to himself, lest he should further disturb his 
 excitable acquaintance. 
 
 But resolves are easier made than kept, and the 
 heavy breathing of the one, and the heavier breathing 
 of the other, proved the influence of the sharp ride, 
 the sharper air, the heavy supper, warm fire, and 
 dimly-lighted room. Both were asleep. Michael 
 moved and muttered as the thunder peals shook the 
 pile, bat dozed off again. Suddenly a gust of wind 
 rattled the shutters as though demon hands were 
 striving to wrench and beat them in, and, like the 
 discharge of a platoon of musketry, the thunder burst 
 in one tremendous crash. 
 
 Both men started to their feet and looked around, 
 half-expecting the walls to tumble about their ears ; but 
 no catastrophe of the kind following, they sat down 
 and talked about thunder-storms, Franklin, electricity, 
 and other matters connected therewith, Michael 
 mechanically looking at his huge watch the while. It 
 wanted a few minutes to twelve. Replacing his watch 
 in the fob, he laid one hand on the lamp, the other 
 on a pistol, and sat expectant, Mr. Peover regarding 
 him with wonder, and himself scarce conscious of the 
 action or the spring that moved him. Presently a 
 prolonged wail, that was not the wind, swept the 
 corridor, and light steps hurried past. Michael opened
 
 58 god's providence house. 
 
 the door and darted out in time to see the luminous 
 Grey Lady pass down the corridor into the haunted 
 chamber. Quick as thought he fired — there was a 
 heavy fall ; but, wlien the smoke cleared away and he 
 rushed forward, there Avas nothing to be seen — no 
 body — no fresh blood-stains. 
 
 ]\Iichael hurried back to the room where Mr. Peover 
 sat appalled. He was awed in spite of himself; yet 
 such was the indomitable nature of the man, only the 
 more doggedly resolved to fathom the mystery, if it 
 were capable of elucidation. To Mr. Peover he then 
 confided what he had seen, as also his former adven- 
 ture, and bis determination to exorcise the ghost, 
 whether natural or supernatural. He " did not mean 
 to be frightened out of a valuable estate by a shadow." 
 
 Morning broke clear and fine ; the few birds which 
 had not followed the summer were sinsiniir in the 
 branches, rain-drops sparkled and glistened like dia- 
 monds in the daylight, and everything seemed 
 brighter and fresher for the storm. 
 
 The gentlemen hastened to Shotwick regardless of 
 the miry roads, breakfasted, and returned to Chester, 
 the one to hear his foreman's report of business in 
 general, and to pick out men for the House work, the 
 other to collect his belongings at the Blue Posts and 
 then return home to Northwich, his presence not being 
 necessary for three or four weeks, at least so said Mr. 
 Peover.
 
 THE SECOND NIGHT AT THE GRANGE. 59 
 
 Second thoughts induced Mr. Ford to remain until 
 the morrow, in order to receiv^e and overlook the con- 
 tractor's estimate ; for, though he seemed a straight- 
 forward man enough, yet Michael argued to himself 
 he had no voucher for his integrity save the word of 
 a Latham ; and though not generally inclined to be 
 prejudiced, he certainly had a sort of repugnance 
 to the ver}^ name of Latham. " The young fellow 
 who bore it was good-looking enough, frank, and 
 gentleman-like, not obtrusive ; yet he was a 
 Latham." 
 
 Had Michael argued that exactness was essential in 
 all business transactions, he would have been only 
 just ; or had his self-comraunings arisen from a natural 
 wariness in his dealings with strangers, no objection 
 could be raised ; but Michael was the reverse of tliis. 
 His actions were not the result of deliberation, but 
 decision — not of reflection, but perception ; and 
 though, as may be seen, he esteemed himself unpre- 
 judiced, and on the whole was ; yet he was seldom 
 known to relinquish an object on which he had de- 
 cided, or abandon a prejudice or predilection once 
 formed. 
 
 Accordingly, he acquainted ^Ir. Peover with his 
 altered intentions as an "omission" to be rectified, 
 and desired that the estimates might be supplied to 
 him the following morning early, feeling anxious to 
 reach North wich before nightfall, Saturday afternoon,
 
 60 god's providence house. 
 
 more than any other in the week, requiring his pre- 
 sence at home. 
 
 Mr. Peover replied it would be close work, but he 
 should be accommodated if possible. 
 
 The morning was far advanced when these arrange- 
 ments were completed ; but Michael, not caring to 
 waste the hour before dinner, strolled out in quest of 
 a cabinet-maker ; not that there was any necessity for 
 immediate haste, but people then were slow to move, 
 and if he gave his orders early, there would be more 
 time to complete the furniture ; and he was particu- 
 larly desirous to have the drawing-room fitted up as a 
 surprise for his wife and daughter, whom he loved 
 dearly. 
 
 He had previously taken the precaution to make 
 inquiries from the host, and also from a gentleman he 
 had seen several times in the commercial room, re- 
 specting the most likely individual to serve him well, 
 and as both concurred in naming the same tradesman, 
 accepted the offer of the latter to introduce him, con- 
 sidering that offer a simple act of courtesy to a stranger. 
 For once in his life Michael Ford's discernment was 
 at fault. 
 
 This obliging young gentleman had represented 
 himself, and seemed to be known, as the junior partner 
 in the firm of Cardwell and Heywood, silkmen and 
 general mercers, of Meal Street, Manchester, remain- 
 ing beyond the stated period of the Michaelmas fair
 
 THE SECOND NIGHT AT THE GRANGE. 61 
 
 in order to collect a few outstanding accounts in 
 Chester and the neighbourhood, with more leisure on 
 his hands than as a business man he cared for ; and, 
 therefore, " it would be a relief to him rather than 
 an inconvenience to act as Mr. Ford's guide that 
 morning." 
 
 As this statement of position, business, and so on, 
 had dropped out bit by bit, without apparent design, in 
 the course of casual conversation during the week, a 
 doubt of its verity never crossed the mind of Michael, 
 who had somehow been attracted by the suave and 
 almost deferential manners of the Manchester rider 
 or bagman, as commercial travellers were then desig- 
 nated. So the pair left the inn arm-in-arm on their 
 way to the cabinet-maker's in Foregate Street, and 
 while Michael was busied inspecting chairs and tables, 
 designs for bureaus, sofas, work-tables, et cetera, 
 et cetera ; or turning over patterns of damask or car- 
 peting, it might be as well to look a little more closely 
 at his companion. 
 
 Not tall, as he stood beside the lofty figure of Michael, 
 yet standing aloof, his slight frame gave to him the 
 appearance of greater height than his actual measure- 
 ment would justify ; and the casual observer, in all 
 probability, would have pronounced him tall. His 
 eyes were grey and glittering, forehead and teeth 
 white and shapely, nose and lips delicately cut as 
 those of a beautiful woman ; yet there was an un-
 
 62 god's pkovidexce house, 
 
 definable expression about the wliole which at once 
 needed and defied interpretation. As he wore a peri- 
 wig, the hue of his natural hair could only be deter- 
 mined by his eyelashes and long thin lines of eyebrow, 
 boih dark and silky. In fact he was what is generally 
 called a handsome man. But whether it was that 
 his upper lip was a trifle too long, or his eyebrows a 
 little too close, or his eyes glittered more than was 
 pleasant, there was certainly an expression in his face 
 beyond ordinary analysis. 
 
 In dress he was as much the dandy as a business 
 man could presume to be ; he wore a closely fitting 
 coat of bright blue cloth of superfine texture, trimmed 
 with frog-buttons and embroidery of the same shade ; 
 it had a short wide skirt reaching only to the hips ; 
 his embroidered vest of lustrous French satin came 
 little below the waist ; and his lighte'r blue breeches 
 buttoning to fit the knee, were finished below the 
 buttons with enormous bunches of ribbon strings. 
 Extremely fine black worsted hose, with crimson silk 
 clocks, and silver-buckled high heeled-shoes, clothed 
 his lower limbs ; above his wrists, falling over delicate 
 hands, were ruffles of rich lace; lace also edged the 
 falling ends of his cravat ; while the bosom of his 
 shirt was frilled with transparent French cambric, 
 kept in place by a dainty diamond pin. A gold- 
 headed cane (concealing a sword), a finger-ring or 
 two, and a jaunty three-cornered hat, made up the
 
 THE SECOXD NIGHT AT THE GRANGE. 63 
 
 exterior of tlie fashionable yet not over-dressed Man- 
 chester manufacturer, whose age, at a rough guess, 
 was thirty — more or less — as lawyers say. 
 
 Having made such purchases and given such orders 
 as he deemed desirable, Michael and 3Ir. Hey wood 
 returned to the Blue Posts and dined together. After 
 dinner, having nothing better to occupy the hours than 
 the week-old Courant or Clironicle, and the small 
 sheet of the soon-exhausted Times, Michael proposed 
 a walk upon the ancient walls, and the younger man 
 assented with alacrity. This filled up the day, and so 
 agreeably, that when at five o'clock 3Ir. Heywood left 
 Mr. Ford at the door of the inn to keej) (as he said) 
 a business appointment with a customer, the latter 
 found himself regretting the departure of his nev/ 
 acquaintance ; and at an early hour retired to 
 rest. 
 
 If all Mr. Heywood's customers resembled the one 
 he met at the Yacht Inn, he must have driven a 
 peculiar trade, for this was about the oddest looking 
 mercer who ever stood behind a counter. Not that 
 his garb was unsuitable, it was quiet and tradesman- 
 like ; but seemed to sit uneasily upon him. His face 
 was shrewd and keen enough for a close dealer, but 
 lacked the persuasive element so necessary in a retail 
 trade, so conspicuous in Mr. Heywood ; his hands, 
 too, appeared rough to handle delicate wares ; yet 
 much of their conversation was of silks and satins.
 
 64 god's providence house. 
 
 lawn and lace, and other valuable commodities. Be- 
 sides, there occurred a part of the transaction in 
 which money and payment were frequently named, 
 so it may be presumed this was only one of those 
 singular customers tradesmen have to deal with at 
 times.
 
 6d 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 AN ENCOUNTER IN THE FOREST. 
 
 After an hour or two spent the next morniog in 
 the examination and signature of contracts and agree- 
 rnents with Mr. Peover in his close office, Michael 
 started homewards, shaking hands with Mr. Heywood 
 (also equipped for a journey) at the door of the 
 Blue Posts, and expressing a hope to meet him 
 again during his stay next Chester Fair, as he bade 
 him farewell. 
 
 Turning sharp round to the right from Mercer's '1^^^^ 
 How, he trotted Tony along Eastgate Street, and 
 passed under the modern and expansive Eastgate 
 newly erected by the spirit of improvement (?) at the 
 cost of the demolition of the ancient structure with 
 its beautiful Gothic archway, massive octagonal 
 towers, rising story above story — itself an improve- 
 ment (?) on the Roman gate, of which a portion vet 
 remains — a silent protest against the vandalism which 
 removes the ancient landmarks of a nation. From 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 hod's providence house. 
 
 tlie shadow of its wide arch he emerged into Fore- 
 gate Street, once the great highroad of a great 
 people — the Watling Street of the Romans ; but un- 
 conscious or unmindful of these successive and pro- 
 phetic changes, he rode steadily on through Boughton, 
 and crossed the canal bridge to Christleton, with a 
 strange confusion in his mind of home, the Grange, 
 IMr. Peover, and Mr. Heywood — a sort of kaleidoscope 
 motley. 
 
 Not one of those who hurry on at first only to lag 
 at last, he suffered Tony to pick his way as pleased 
 him best ; and the well-used animal did not abuse 
 the trust, but trotted on over the uneven turnpike 
 road, without a stumbl'e, and with more real than 
 apparent haste, as the fast receding milestones testi- 
 fied. Six of these ancient distance chroniclers had 
 been passed when lie reached Tarvin. Here he 
 stopped and drank a glass of ale without dismounting, 
 for the day was dry and dusty. Beyond this, a mile, 
 lay the village of Kelsall, and here, at a mean little 
 roadside hostel, he alighted and called for refresh- 
 ments. 
 
 It was long past noon, but there was a savoury 
 odour of ham and eggs, providing for some country- 
 men with shock heads and smock frocks, who e^'ed 
 the traveller narrowly as he entered tlie one common 
 room, and roughly said he was welcome to share their 
 dinner, if not too proud. He was 7iot too proud, know-
 
 AN ENCOUNTER IN THE FOREST. 67 
 
 ing there was uo other chance of a nearer dinner than 
 Sandiway, eight miles further on, and with Delamere 
 forest to cross, he did not care to wait whilst a fresh 
 relay of ham and eggs was cooked for himself. So he 
 ate the savoury country fare, and drank ale with 
 these rude clowns, and paid the reckoning from a 
 tolerably well-filled purse, when he had done. Glances 
 were exchanged b}' the three countrymen as he put 
 up his purse, and one who had been absent from the 
 room a little while nodded assentingly to his comrades 
 on his return. 
 
 Unobservant of these side looks, Michael mounted 
 and jogged forward, occasionally patting Tony's neck 
 with a word of well understood encouragement, 
 equally oblivious of the men he had left behind, or 
 the road which lay before him. He was then in the 
 heart of the forest passing " Eidley Pool," and near- 
 ing '^ Headless Cross," musing over the old stories 
 connected with the forest, and the Cholmondley 
 family ; over Nixon and his prophecies, wondering if 
 Ridley Pool would be " sown and mown" in his day, 
 and pondering how many years must elapse before 
 "Headless Cross should sink so low that a crow 
 perched a-top could drink the best blood of England I" 
 It had sunk considerably within his own recollection ! 
 Occupied with these reflections, he had not noticed 
 the sharp click-click which followed Tony's steps, and 
 indicated a loosening shoe. But as the click-click 
 
 f2
 
 GS god's providexce house. 
 
 became louder it attracted his attention, and annoyed 
 him considerably. There was not a forge nearer than 
 Northwich, and long before they reached the town 
 the shoe would be off, and the poor beast lamed. 
 There was no help for it ; to go back was worse than 
 to go forward. However, he dismounted to examine 
 the shoe, and try if he could hammer back the 
 loosened nails with the butt of his pistol. To his sur- 
 prise, not one, but all the nails were loose, and several 
 missing ; yet he was certain from his own examina- 
 tion that the shoes were all right when he left 
 Chester. 
 
 '*' The merciful man is merciful to his beast I" 
 Michael compassionating Tony's feet and probable 
 lameuos^, made no attemp': to remount ; but, with 
 the bridle over his arm, walked by his head, rather 
 than add, by his weight, to the animal's inconvenience, 
 which increased with every few steps. 
 
 Want of patience to endure the inevitable was not 
 to be entered in the category of Michael's short- 
 comings ; albeit a somewhat passionate man. ]\Iany 
 men in his situation would have chafed and fumed at 
 this unlooked-for impediment to progress, venting 
 their spleen in those oaths and imprecations with 
 which our English language was then so plentifully 
 garnished. But Michael preferred his native tongue, 
 without the piquant sauce of blasjDhemy ; and so 
 (with the exception of an occasional "by jingo";
 
 AX EXCOUXTER IX THE FOREST. G9 
 
 expended little useless energy that v/ay ; but he shook 
 his head ruefully as he surveyed the prospect before 
 him ; and as a thought glanced across his mind that 
 some malicious wight had drawn the nails, set his 
 teeth, knit his brows, and clenched his right hand 
 very significantly. 
 
 It was Saturday, the day on which he paid his field 
 labourers ; men whose families could not afford to 
 wait for the bread-winner's wages ; and he was appre- 
 hensive lest his wife should leave them unpaid, rather 
 than take the office of cashier into her own hands ; at 
 least he knew she would be perplexed hovv^ to act or 
 think for herself. Then he had written to announce 
 his return that afternoon early, and here he was, on a 
 strip of rutty, rugged road, called by courtesy, a high- 
 way, in the midst of a dense forest, with a worse than 
 shoeless horse, nine good miles before him still, and 
 the afternoon far spent. 
 
 - A walk of nine miles on an autumnal evening, along 
 a country road, may not, at first sight, appear very 
 formidable, to a man of Michael's muscular frame, 
 especially ; or along a well lighted thorougfare, with 
 a plentiful sprinkling of police here and there ; but 
 lamps were not a luxury for Delamere forest ; the 
 mounted patrol was not organized ; and if garrotting 
 was not in fashion, certainly highway robbery was. 
 
 So that when Michael kept a pistol in his hand as 
 he strode manfully along, he took no unnecessary pre-
 
 70 god's pkovidence house. 
 
 caution ; and when he glanced upwards to measure 
 the daylight between the over-arching trees, it was 
 with the calculation of prudence — not pusillanimity. 
 Two miles had been traversed thus ; poor Tony's 
 click-click, click-click, beating time to his master's 
 thoughts, when, on reaching a spot where the road 
 narrowed, and the underwood was unusually dark and 
 dense, a movement in the bushes arrested his atten- 
 tion. 
 
 Ere he could turn to ascertain whence the sound 
 proceeded, the three smock-frocked fellows with w^hom 
 he had dined, sprang upon him from the thicket, the 
 foremost aiming a blow at him with a thick ashen 
 cudgel. 
 
 Michael swerved aside, instantly aiming at the 
 fellow's head with his ready pistol, and the blow 
 intended for the traveller came down on Tony with 
 a force which caused the animal to start and plunge ; 
 while the pistol, on which his master relied, missed 
 fire ; but with the heavy riding-whip he struck the 
 man across the face, a left-handed blow, which sent 
 him reeling. 
 
 But the odds were three to one ; besides, Michael 
 was hampered with his cloak, and the bridle over 
 his left arm ; and as that was jerked to and fro in 
 the struggle, the horse reared and plunged wildly, 
 threatening, as he kicked, to be a formidable antago- 
 nist alike to friends and foes. In a twinkling, one of
 
 AN ENCOUNTER IN THE FOREST. 71 
 
 the men drew a knife through the leather, and freed 
 the frantic beast, giving him, at the same time, a sharp 
 prick with the blade. This sent him darting along 
 the road, mad with pain and excitement, at a furious 
 speed ; the click of his loosened shoes dying out in 
 the rapidly increasing distance. 
 
 Meanwhile the desperate strife between Michael 
 and his dastardly assailants continued. All three 
 were armed with stout sticks ; one likewise wielded a 
 knife, such as sailors use, whilst he had no better 
 weapon for his defence than his silver-mounted whip, 
 Tony having carried off his second pistol. 
 
 Notwithstanding his muscular frame, and ready arm, 
 or the dexterity with which he parried or returned their 
 blows, a contest so unequal could not long continue ; 
 the struggle was fierce while it lasted ; but one stout 
 man was no match for three as strong, and at length, 
 felled by a ruffianly blow from behind, Michael was 
 borne to the ground, partially stunned, faint, and 
 bleeding. His hands were cut, there was a deep 
 wound in his arm, and bruises on head, and face, and 
 body. Nor were his opponents unscathed ; the silver 
 head of his whip had left its mark on more than one 
 face, ere it was wrested from his hand as he fell. 
 
 From a temporary swoon he recovered to find one 
 of the ruffians rifling his pockets, another held him 
 down, and the third stood aloof, looking and listening 
 down the road. Unresistingly he saw his watch and
 
 72 god's providence house. 
 
 parse transferred to the robbers' wallet ; but feeble 
 as he was, struggled manfully to preserve an antique 
 ring, which had been his father's and grandfather's. 
 At length the threat to cut it off, and the finger with 
 it, caused him most reluctantly to relinquish his clasp 
 of the jewel, prized as it was. 
 
 During the noise and confusion of the struggle, 
 Michael's eyes and ears had been too pre-occupied in 
 self-defence to note anything beyond the group with 
 whom he contended ; but now, active resistance over, 
 pinned down with his ears close to the ground, he 
 thankfully distinguished the close and rapid beat of 
 horses' hoofs — not Tony's, though there were more 
 than one ; the steps were too firm and regular ; there 
 was no click-click, boding loss to man and beast. 
 
 Apparently the robbers heard it also, for, in the 
 midst of a dispute on the necessity for despatching 
 the wounded man, to ensure his silence, they suddenly 
 started to their feet, and giving their victim a final kick 
 darted off with their booty, and disappeared in the 
 depths of the forest, just as two horses and a solitary 
 I'ider came at full speed down upon them, and the 
 least nimble of the desperadoes felt the horseman's 
 whip about his shoulders ere he dived into the brush- 
 wood. 
 
 But a man can pass where a horse and man cannot, 
 so the thieves escaped, and the new-comer dismounted 
 to assist the fallen man to rise. Michael's surprise
 
 AN ENCOUNTER IN THE FOREST. To 
 
 was only exceeded by his pleasure, when he looked up 
 and beheld, bending over him, the undefinable face of 
 Mt. Hey wood, full of regret and sympathy — and some- 
 thincr more, which Michael could not see. 
 
 "I trust you are not seriously wounded, Mr. Ford. 
 How very unfortunate I was not in time to protect 
 you ! Do let me help you to rise ; the trunk of this 
 fallen tree will serve for a seat whilst I see what can 
 be done for you," As he said this with gentle and 
 compassionate tones, he assisted Mr. Ford from the 
 ground to the tree, so conveniently felled, and pro- 
 ceeded to bind his arm and hands with silk handker- 
 chiefs, taken from unfathomable pockets, saying, as 
 he did so : " This may suffice until we reach Sandi- 
 way ; I have some little skill in binding flesh-wounds 
 (how acquired, he did not say), and, may prove, my 
 dear sir, a pretty fair substitute for a surgeon, when I 
 have light enough to examine the nature of your 
 injuries. The shadows deepen so fast I could not see 
 to do more here, even were it safe to loiter. Those 
 vagabonds may return, and as I have valuable goods 
 in my possession, I do not care to risk an unnecessary 
 encounter. Perhaps a draught of this cordial may 
 revive you," continued he, diving once more into the 
 unfathomable pocket for a small flask, which he offered 
 with the words : ** It is genuine French brandy, I 
 assure you." 
 
 Genuine French brandy it was ; and its restorative
 
 74 god's provide xce house. 
 
 effects were soon apparent. As he returned the flask, 
 Michael said, "How shall I thank you, Mr. Hey- 
 wood? I am greatly in your debt! You did not 
 come up one moment too soon; that great black- 
 muzzled fellow, kneeling on my chest, was fast suffo- 
 cating me ; I have hardly recovered my voice and 
 breath yet. However shall I get home, now Tony is 
 gone, and myself in this plight," continued he in an 
 under-tone of self-communion. 
 
 " My horse is at your service, Mr. Ford ; I shall be 
 proud to resign him to your use ; I am but a light 
 weight, and this pack not so heavy as usual, so I can 
 ride with my goods without overburdening the 
 animal," said Mr. Heywood, readily. 
 
 " "Really, Mr. Heywood, your kindness " 
 
 "Nay, no thanks!" interrupted that gentleman, 
 blandly, " this is but an act of common humanity ; 
 courtesy is out of the question. But let me assist 
 you to mount. There! he has not a very hard 
 mouth, and so I trust the reins will not gall your 
 hands through the wrappings." 
 
 " Thank you, my hands are pretty well protected. 
 I shall manage very well." 
 
 " We will lose no time then," said Mr. Heywood, 
 laying his hand on the pack of the led horse, and 
 vaulting lightly upon it, as though that had been a 
 saddle. 
 
 All this passed in little more time "than has been
 
 AN ENCOUNTER IN THE FORFgT. 70 
 
 occupied in the narration, and the two rode on 
 together, ver}^ slowly at first, for Michael's head still 
 felt dizzy from the fall, and loss of blood. 
 
 They soon gained the cross roads about a mile 
 from Sandiway, and there, to Michael's surprise, 
 Tony was grazing on the road-side grass, secured by 
 the longer end of the cut bridle to the finger-post, 
 which pointed out with long gaunt arms the road 
 they had been traversing as the one " To Chester," 
 that in continuation " To North wich," while those at 
 right angles indicated southward the road to Tar- 
 porley, northward to Waverham, whenever daylight 
 left the inscription legible. By this time Michael's 
 head was less confused and his perceptions clearer, 
 so that, finding Tony tethered called to his remem- 
 brance the strange circumstance that Mr. Hey wood 
 had come galloping to his rescue from that quarter. 
 This was a puzzle to him. He could have understood 
 that a well-horsed, lightly-built man should have 
 overtaken him in his delayed movements, but that he 
 should meet him, as it were, was, to say the least, 
 incomprehensible ; and so he told Mr. Hey wood as 
 they released the horse and journeyed onwards. 
 
 " I thought," answered he, wdth a pleasant, but at 
 the same time a very peculiar smile, " I had told you 
 I had business in Tarporley to-day." 
 
 *' I don't remember it, if you did,'* replied Michael. 
 
 "■ It may have escaped your memory. However, I
 
 76 god's riiOViDKxcE house. 
 
 left the inn immediately after yourself, the customer 
 for whose account I waited walked up as you rode 
 away. His money received, I had no inducement to 
 prolong my stay when brief but important business 
 called me elsewhere. My horses and pack had been 
 ready some time, so I mounted on the instant, 
 thinking to join you long before you reached Tarvin, 
 where the road branches off. Your few minutes' 
 start, however, gave you an advantage, ana I turned 
 off to Tarporley without catching a glimpse of you." 
 
 " But Tarporley is some distance. I am at a less 
 to comprehend yet," mused Mr. Ford, with a per- 
 plexed air. 
 
 " Indeed ! the thing is simple enough," replied 
 Mr. Heywood, with a slight elevation of his shoulders 
 and eyebrows. " As I said before, my business at 
 Tarporley, though important, was very brief ; and I 
 pushed on, as desirous to reach a good inn before 
 nightfall as you were to get home. (Yes, turning off 
 into the horse-road at Christleton, through Duddon 
 and Colebrook, keeping wide enough of Tarporley.) 
 As I gained those cross-roads, your riderless horse 
 rushed up; alarmed, I caught the flying rein, and 
 tying the strap roughly to the post, hurried down the 
 Chester road to ascertain what accident had befallen 
 you. No suspicion of highway^ robbery occurred to 
 me. I knew you to be as well armed as mounted, 
 and no firing had reached my ears. I spurred my
 
 AN ENCOUNTER IN THE FOREST. 77 
 
 horse as your cry of " Murder " rose on the wind, and 
 am only thankful that the brief nature of my engage- 
 ment enabled me to reach you when I did." 
 
 " I too am thankful I your arrival was most oppor- 
 tune!" exclaimed Michael, in hearty response to 
 Mr. Heywood's plausible, but very equivocal ex- 
 planation. 
 
 " It was the merest chance," continued this friend- 
 in-need, " the very merest chance. One moment 
 later or earlier, and your runaway horse would have 
 been either before or behind me ; as it was, we met 
 by one of those unforeseen accidents so common in 
 life, on which depends so much." 
 
 *' There are no such things as accidents !" rose to 
 Air. Ford's lips, in unconscious echo of Mr. Peover's 
 words. 
 
 "Ah, well, perhaps not!" and Mr. Hey wood 
 shrugged his shoulders, and raised his eye-brows just 
 a little ; " But may I ask how it was that your good 
 horse had not carried you beyond the limits of the 
 forest? /had made, from Tarvinj'a circuit of well 
 nigh double the length of your road. Had you 
 loitered anywhere ?" asked Mr. Heywood, curiously, 
 without a word of the speed he had himself kept, or 
 the peculiar route he had taken. 
 
 "Unfortunately, yes !" was Michael's reply. "At 
 Kelsall I got down, and joined some seeming country- 
 men at their repast of ham and eggs. The half-hour
 
 78 god's pkovidence house. 
 
 so occupied by me, was, it appears, spent by one of 
 them in drawing the nails from poor Tony's shoes, 
 and, I perceive, the charge from my pistols," handing, 
 as he spoke, the undischarged one to Mr. Heywood. 
 " I had incautiously left them in the holsters. I 
 remember now that black-looking scoundrel left the 
 room whilst I was too busy eating to care what such 
 clodhoppers were doing. It will teach me caution in 
 future !" 
 
 •' Well, and what then ?" asked the younger man. 
 with much apparent interest. 
 
 " What then ? Listen ! do you hear the click-click 
 of poor Tony's shoes ? I see you do. Well, I heard 
 it ; not at first, but when I was too far in the forest 
 to turn back (the rascals had calculated time and 
 distance cleverly). I got down, found two shoes half 
 off, and resolved to walk. The bridle was over my 
 arm when the villains made the attack, but I think 
 the man who wounded me must have set him 
 loose." 
 
 " You have had a very narrow escape. I hope the 
 rogues have not plundered you." 
 
 " Not plundered me ! indeed, but they have ! All 
 my loose cash, my watch, and a ring once my father's 
 are in their hands, and I hope will help some day to 
 hang the ruffians." 
 
 There was a peculiar glitter in the manufacturer's 
 grey eyes, and a touch of sarcasm in his tone as he
 
 AN ENCOUNTER IN THE FOREST. 79 
 
 replied. " That is not very likely ; country constables 
 are neither quick witted nor quick footed, and foot- 
 pads are generally both ; so I fear you will have to 
 resign yourself to the loss. But here we are at 
 Sandiway, my dear sir. You will find the ' Blue 
 Cap ' a fair specimen of a rustic wayside public-house, 
 as I, travelling ttie road so often, have reason to 
 know% and here, if you please, I will look to your 
 hurts before we proceed further. Besides, I have had 
 no better dinner than a crust of bread and cheese, 
 and must plead guilty to a sharp appetite." So 
 saying, he led the way into the clean sanded room of 
 the little hostel, and ordering such edibles as the 
 place afforded, proceeded at once to divest Michael of 
 his upper garments, and examine the injured arm 
 and hands. 
 
 From a pocket-book he produced scissors and 
 plaister, saying, that he " always carried them to be 
 prepared for emergencies " — though what emergencies 
 a peaceful tradesman needed to prepare for did not 
 appear — unless the unsettled state of the roads pro- 
 vided a reason. Cutting the plaister into little strips, 
 with much tenderness and some skill he drew the 
 edges of the wound together, strapping the bits of 
 plaister over as dexterously as though he had gradu- 
 ated as a hospital dresser. As most of the cuts in 
 the hands were mere scratches, none dangerous, and 
 no tendon or main artery had been severed in his
 
 80 god's providence house. 
 
 arm, though it had bled profusely, and was stabbed 
 completely through the fleshy part, Mr. Heywood's 
 amateur surgery was likely to prove all that was 
 needful : and Michael felt and expressed a deep sense 
 of obliofation to him, not with lavish words which 
 mean little, but with few and earnest ones, while his 
 timely assistant, with much less sincerity, protested, 
 that as "he arrived too late for the fray, he had little 
 right to be thanked.'' Much less indeed than Michael 
 dreamed. 
 
 The time devoted by Mr. Heywood to the refresh- 
 ment of his inner man, was quite as necessary to 
 recruit Michael Ford. No matter how stalwart his 
 frame, a prolonged struggle with three powerful des- 
 peradoes, armed with knife and cudgels, in which 
 these playthings were freely used, was not calculated 
 to leave him as strong and fresh as though it had 
 been a game of football on a common, or even a fair 
 fight. 
 
 Unpretending as the small public-house appeared, 
 the landlord brought forth for his departing guests 
 some excellent Hollands, which had evidently lost 
 none of its strength or purity by paying compliments 
 to the excise laws ; and this served Michael in good 
 stead. The evening shadows had deepened, and the 
 stars began to peep out of the sky as they travelled 
 unmolested along the road to North wich. Here Mr. 
 Heywood would have bade ?,Iichael farewell, but that
 
 AN ENCOUNTER IN THE FOREST. 81 
 
 was not to be thought of, Michael insisting that he 
 should make Ford- brook farm his home so long as 
 his business kept him in the neighbourhood. 
 
 " But will Mrs. Ford be agreeable to the entrance of 
 a stranger at this late hour ? I do not doubt her 
 hospitaUty any more than yours, but what will she 
 think of me for taking advantage of it ?" 
 
 " Think ! she will of course think just what I think, 
 I never knew her to do otherwise. Alice (that's my 
 daughter) to be sure, has a will of her own ; but as 
 for Margaret, I never heard her say * no ' to anything 
 I proposed, not even when I asked her to leave her old 
 uncle and be my wife : and a capital one she's been 
 too, always as quiet as a mouse, yet as busy as a bee," 
 and Michael's voice seemed to warm as he contem- 
 l^lated his wife's many excellencies. "Besides," 
 continued he, with a smile, " I am rather too stiff' 
 to dismount and walk home ; and, as I must borrow 
 your horse a little longer, it is only fair that you 
 should assure yourself, by your presence, that he is 
 well used, and not turned adrift when I've done with 
 him. No, no, Mr. Heywood ; if I suffered the man 
 who has been the means of saving my life to take his 
 chance at an inn whilst I went to a comfortable 
 home, I should deserve to be killed outright the first 
 time I crossed the forest a^-ain." 
 
 "Well, well, since you are so persistent, I must 
 comply. Remember, I exonerate myself of any 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 god's TROVIDEXCE HOUSE. 
 
 desire to intrude upon the ladies," was Mr. Hey- 
 wood's reply, attended by a courteously compliant 
 inclination of the head. 
 
 And so it came about, that Robert Heywood 
 attained his soul's desire— an introduction, under pro- 
 mising auspices, at Ford-brook farm. 
 
 As they rode through the High Street, Michael 
 left his limping steed in charge of the ostler at the 
 Crown, with instructions to take him to a farrier 
 next day. Then the two hastened onwards, keeping 
 the high road for about a mile, when they turned 
 abruptly into a by road, one of those green lanes so 
 peculiar to England's sylvan scenery. The sandy 
 roadway, stretched like a broad drab ribbon over a 
 green velvet robe, so soft and verdant was the turf 
 beyond on either side, sprinkled close beneath the 
 tall hedges with an embroidery of wildling flowers. 
 Here and there the rudely torn-down hazel boughs or 
 bramble bushes told of mischief done by whooping 
 boys scrambling for nuts and blackberries or search- 
 ing eagerly for birds' nests. A shallow brooklet 
 skirting the roadside path murmured over a bed of 
 pebbles, and made gentle music in the ears of lovers 
 loitering past on summer or autumnal eves. It swept 
 its tributary waters on to a broader and still shallower 
 stream crossing the road, and which the horses had to 
 splash through. There were stepping-stones for foot 
 passengers on one side^ and as the stream seldom or
 
 AN ENCOUNTER IN THE FOREST. 83 
 
 never rose above them, few of the country people ever 
 felt the inconvenience of the watery interruption to a 
 dry-shod walk. About a hundred yards beyond, in 
 an angle of the road, stood the farm — a long, low, 
 straggling whitewashed house, with a number of 
 darker buildins^s shrouded amonojst heavv trees in the 
 rear. Trailing plants climbed over the trellised 
 porch, and a large rose-tree late in summer struggled 
 with a dark-leaved jessamine which should bring its 
 perfumed offering closest to the chamber windows. 
 The house itself stood back from the road, with a front- 
 age of well-kept garden ground ; into this a wide gate 
 opened for the admission of horsemen or light vehicles, 
 whilst a stile, like a double ladder with a handrail, 
 served for pedestrians, to step from the road upon a 
 firm gravel path, so well raised in the middle, it was 
 never sloppy in the wettest of weather. Extensive 
 meadows spread their daisied carpets behind the house 
 and on each side, while over the road a heavy wooden 
 gate opened into corn-fields as extensive, owning the 
 same master. 
 
 Little or nothing of this was visible to our travellers 
 that night. Mr. Heywood might have heard the low 
 sons: of the brook, but his was not a musical ear. He 
 caught the glimmer of the moonlight on the wider 
 stream as they drew near, and heard the plashing 
 waters washing his horse's fetlocks, but no sense of the 
 calm beauty of the scene crossed his abstracted mind, 
 
 G 2
 
 84 god's providence house. 
 
 nor, had daylight shone upon the picture, would it have 
 impressed him more ; he was musing on his merchan- 
 dise, and a new speculation connected therewith, and 
 was only roused from his reverie by Michael's hearty 
 exclamation, '^ Thank God ! we are at home."
 
 ^0 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AT HOME. 
 
 Yes, home ! Proclaimed by the door thrown hastily 
 open before the wayfarers can reach it, by the white 
 arms flung lovingly round the father's neck, ere his 
 feet fairly touch the step ; the demonstrative owner 
 of the clasping arms and kissing mouth standing on 
 tip-toe to touch the lips bent down to meet hers. By 
 the shy yet pleased glance of the quiet matron at the 
 stranger standing by, while she too, as fondly but 
 more calmly, embraced the husband, who was all the 
 world to her, telling that he was indeed at " home," 
 and might well ''thank God "for it. Michael too, 
 with one arm round each of his dear ones, seemed 
 for a long time forgetful of everything but their 
 presence and welcomes; forgetful even of pain, or 
 hospitality, or gratitude. But Love is lord-paramount 
 in homes like this, and Michael's first duty was due 
 to the home-deity. 
 
 Not long, however, did he forget the friend who
 
 S6 god's providence house. 
 
 stood there unannounced, but as soon as the first 
 shower of kisses ceased, begged wife and daughter 
 both to welcome Mr. Heywood, as one who had saved 
 him from imminent perih The colour faded from both 
 female faces at the bare suggestion of danger to one 
 so dear, even though the danger was past, and flushed 
 back again with their thanks to Mr. Heywood, for an 
 action so vaguely proclaimed, and the merit of which 
 he as vaguely disclaimed. 
 
 All these congratulations had taken place in the 
 narrow hall, with the outer door wide open; but a 
 farmmg man with a lantern having come round from 
 so7Tie remote region to lead away the horses, he 
 deposited the pack and saddle-bags on the floor of 
 the hall and closed the door, as Mr. Ford led the way 
 into a cheerful sitting-room of moderate dimensions, 
 where a pleasant fire and ready-laid supper awaited 
 them. Alice and her mother followed closely, anxious 
 to learn the nature of the accident from which he 
 had been preserved, the broad brim of his riding-hat 
 having concealed his bruised and discoloured face 
 from their first hurried glance in the dim hall. But 
 Michael refused to satisfy their curiosity. " Supper 
 first thing, Margaret !" said he, and passive Margaret 
 turned away to attend to his wishes, as though feeling 
 and curiosity had no place in her breast, saying as 
 she left the room, in as much of a bustle as she could 
 feel, and that was not much : *' Now Alice help
 
 AT HOME. 87 
 
 your father off with his hat and -cloak while I draw 
 the ale ; I dare sa}^ Peggy's asleep." 
 
 " Gently, child, gently !" exclaimed Michael, as 
 Alice hurried to obey her mother with no more 
 ceremony than usual. " Gent — ly ! 1 have been in the 
 wars, and come back wounded, you must not be 
 rough ; you squeezed me a little too closely in the hall 
 just now." 
 
 As he spoke the fair girl's eye glanced quickly from 
 her father's blackened face to his plaistered hands, the 
 cut and bloody sleeve, and with the exclamation, 
 '' Wounded, oh father !" she fell back fainting into a 
 chair close at hand. Mr. Heywood darted forward to 
 support her as she fell ; Mrs. Ford and Peggy entered 
 at the moment with their hands full, yet though 
 greatly distressed at the sight of her husband's evi- 
 dent injuries, and her daughter's unwonted situation, 
 her presence of mind never forsook her, and she pro- 
 ceeded to bathe Alice's palms and brow with vinegar, 
 and sprinkle cold water in her face until she revived, 
 and ]\Ir. Heywood had no longer an excuse to clasp 
 the form he then relinquished, with a reluctance of 
 which they could have no suspicion. 
 
 " You silly baby," said her father, when, according 
 to Peggy, 'the wench had come round,' " did you never 
 see blood or a plaister before, that you should faint at 
 the sight of them now ?" 
 
 " Why, Michael, husband ! where have you been,
 
 88 god's peovidexce house. 
 
 or what have you been doing, to come home in that 
 condition ? The poor girl might well be scared out 
 of her senses. I have gone quite sick myself with 
 dread," said ]Mrs. Ford, with more emotion than she 
 had hitherto displayed. 
 
 *' I'll tell you after supper ; don't look so frightened, 
 Margaret. Thanks to Mr. Heywood, I am not quite 
 killed this time. Come Alice, love, rouse ; kiss me ; 
 there, all's right now, sit down. Mr. Hey wood, will 
 you have the goodness to take my place? These 
 scratches prevent my handling a carving-knife and 
 fork. The reins chafed my hands sorely coming 
 home." 
 
 Mr. Heywood was willing to do anything to oblige, 
 and presided at the hospitable board w^ith the ease of 
 an old friend of the family, instead of an acquaintance 
 an hour old. During the meal Mr. Ford detailed 
 the afternoon's adventure, dwelling on the probability 
 that the robbers would have murdered him but for 
 Mr. Hey wood's timely arrival, and on the humanity 
 and skill displa3^ed in his subsequent attentions. 
 Alice listened to the narration wdth white lips and 
 eager yet perturbed countenance, and even Mrs. 
 Ford seemed anxious and discomposed. Mr. Hey- 
 wood was overwhelmed with profuse acknowledg- 
 ments of the service he had rendered, thanks which 
 he protested against with very diplomatic modesty, 
 stammering forth something about having " no claim
 
 AT HOME. 89 
 
 on their gratitude," when AUce " wondered how they 
 could possibly repay him ?" But what was that in 
 his furtive glance which caused the fair girl's eyelids 
 to droop and cheek to flush ? 
 
 Michael next ascertained that, as he feared, his 
 men's wages were unpaid, his timid wife deprecating 
 his evident displeasure by the assurance that if she 
 had thought he would like her to pay them she would 
 have done so ; she had been quite concerned all the 
 evening about it, not knowing what to do for the 
 best, and begged him not to blame her. 
 
 " I don't exactly blame you, Margaret, but I've a 
 notion the men and their families will ; however, I 
 can set it rio^ht in the mornino^." 
 
 *' Father, you have not told us one word about 
 the Grange," interposed Alice. '' Is it very much 
 altered ?" 
 
 " Considering that I never saw it before, your 
 question is rather a difficult one to answer ; but it is 
 very much dilapidated and weather-worn, and the 
 grounds are one mass of weeds ; those, I suj^pose, are 
 alterations since your mother was there. How long 
 is that since, eh, Margaret ?" 
 
 " Let me see," replied Mrs. Ford, counting on her 
 fingers as she spoke, " Alice is just eighteen, we had 
 been married two years when she was born, that*s 
 twenty, and poor dear cousin Grenville was killed" (she 
 did not say killed herself) " three years before that.
 
 90 god's providence house. 
 
 that's twenty-three, and I had not been to the Grange 
 one, two, three years before, because uncle Luke was 
 afraid lest her reprobate husband should make love to 
 me, as he did to every girl he met, and that's twenty- 
 six years — full twenty- six years since I saw the dear 
 old Grange." 
 
 Michael, turning to his guest, said, "Have you in 
 your journeyings seen or heard of Grenville Grange, 
 Mr. Heywood ? It is the reputed home of a veri- 
 table ghost, with a very respectable legend attached 
 to it." 
 
 " I do not think I have ; there is not much romance 
 in my composition ; ghost stories do not suit the 
 counting-house, are not catalogued in our ledgers ; 
 and if I have heard the name, it must have slipped 
 from my memory, or made no impression. May I ask 
 in what direction lies this ghostly Grange ?" 
 
 " Between Chester and Parkgate, about half-a-mile 
 west of Shotwick, and considerably less than that dis- 
 tance from the river Dee ; but unless you went up the 
 river you would not observe the place, it lies so far 
 away from the high-road. However, it has such a very 
 questionable reputation, even in Chester, I thought it 
 possible you might, amongst the gossips of the com- 
 mercial room, have heard something of it." 
 
 '' Nothing, I assure you. You have, I presume, an 
 interest in the spot ?" 
 , " Yes, ownership. It is my wife's inheritance: a
 
 AT HOME. 91 
 
 very small portion of what she ought to have had, and 
 doubtless would, if an old uncle of her's had not been 
 henpecked when he made his will." 
 
 " Did you see the wonderful ghost, father ? I 
 want to know that," asked Alice, with a look of sly 
 incredulity." 
 
 " Two, child ; two as palpable ghosts as we ever 
 shall see; and what is more, 1 shot them both. 
 What do you think of that?" and Michael's knife- 
 handle came down on the table with a startling 
 rap. 
 
 Mrs. Ford looked round timidly, as if she half-ex- 
 pected to see the ghosts of the slain ghosts at her 
 elbow; and Mr. Heywood, startled perhaps by the 
 impromptu rap, tilted a quantity of pigeon-pie he was 
 helping, on to the younger lady's dress. With a very 
 red face, and the confusion of a bashful boy rather 
 than the assurance of a bagman, he uttered some very 
 unintelligible apologies, at which Alice could not avoid 
 laughing good-humouredly, though she did in her own 
 mind set him down as a " clumsy booby." 
 
 " Now, father, after this little digression, let us hear 
 the last dying speech and confession of the ghost, or 
 ghosts." 
 
 '' Oh, Alice, how dare you?" faintly murmured her 
 mother. 
 
 " Well, child, the first haunted the chimney, so, in 
 answer to a squeal and a screech, I fired up it, and
 
 92 god's providexce house. 
 
 down came the spectre — a nest of owls in a bushel of 
 soot." 
 
 " Kather an unromantic termination of a ghost 
 story," said Alice, laughing merrily. 
 
 " Not a grey ghost, but a black one," observed Mr. 
 Heywood, lightly. 
 
 " Did I say the ghost was gret/ f asked Mr. Ford, 
 doubtingly ; " I don't think I mentioned its colour." 
 
 Mr. Heywood looked very like a man who had 
 made a mistake as he answered, " Perhaps you said 
 the owls were grey, and I misunderstood you." 
 
 " But, husband," said Mrs. Ford, very calmly, ** you 
 told us you had shot two ghosts ; what of the second ?" 
 
 " Eeach me my cloak, Alice ; hold it up to the 
 light — do you see anything ?" 
 
 "Goodness! it is full of little holes — completely 
 spoiled ! But what has that to do with the ghost ?" 
 persisted Mrs. Ford. 
 
 *' Simply that my cloak was spectre number two. I 
 fell asleep, and wakened out of a dream, just wise 
 enough to mistake my garment for a ghost, and spoil 
 it accordingly with the contents of my second pistol." 
 
 Not one word of the luminous grey figure which had 
 startled Michael twice, and been fired at once — not a 
 syllable. Had Mr. Heywood been cognizant of the 
 omission, his glittering eyes could not have held a 
 more peculiar light than when h3 asked Mrs. Ford the 
 simple question, " Do you believe in apparitions ?"
 
 AT HOME. 93 
 
 "Why, yes — no — that is, — I think, I have not 
 thought about it ; Michael does not believe in them, 
 and he must be right." 
 
 " Right, or not right, Margaret, I don't think it is 
 right for us to sit at this table so long after the meal 
 is over, or to keep our guest out of bed until midnight. 
 I hope you ordered Peggy to prepare a room for our 
 friend." 
 
 ^' Oh, the chintz room was ready long before you 
 came home. Peggy took the warming-pan and aired 
 the bed well this afternoon, for she insisted master 
 would bring some one home with him, when she 
 heard the old cock crow before the door, and was as 
 certain some stranger would be here to supper, because 
 she dropped a knife on the floor. You might see she 
 had laid an extra knife and fork on the table." 
 
 " Well, if Peggy's superstition is always as sensible 
 and useful, we shall not quarrel. I suppose she is in 
 bed?" said Michael. 
 
 " Yes," answered Margaret, lighting a chamber- 
 candle as she spoke. " If you will follow me, Mr. 
 Heywood, I will show you to your room; your pack- 
 ages are already there." 
 
 Good-nights were exchanged : Mr. Heywood fol- 
 lowed his hostess through curious passages and up 
 occasional short flights of stairs, to a black door in an 
 unsuspected corner, opening into a room sunk 
 two steps beneath the landing. Here Mrs. Ford left
 
 94 god's providence house. 
 
 her guest with man}^ good wishes for his night's 
 repose. 
 
 He must have been a very morose and discontented 
 mortal if he had not been satisfied with the comfortable 
 chamber provided, prior to his arrival, for the stranger's 
 accommodation, albeit there were no damask dra- 
 peries with silken fringe, no luxurious lounges, or 
 Turkey carpets yielding to the tread. The comfort 
 was in something apart from the glitter of glass, 
 gilding, and French polish : in the home aspect of 
 the chamber, the extreme cleanliness and neatness of 
 the whole, the suggestiveness of busy feminine fingers, 
 of the ample resources of the farm, and general 
 household industry. On the walls (stencilled in quiet 
 colours, no doubt by home hands), hung odd copies of 
 Hogarth's Idle Apprentice, and the Rake's Progress, 
 in black frames ; the floor was partially covered with 
 a carpet of scarlet and black cloth interwoven to form 
 a check resembling the Rob Roy tartan, the uncovered 
 boards being whitened with frequent scrubbings ; the 
 seats of the high-backed chairs were covered with 
 silken patchwork in fanciful devices ; the oaken wood- 
 work of chairs, bureau, and triangular washstand, 
 hone with the laborious lustre of bees'-wax and elbow- 
 grease ; the fire grate, black and bright, was decorated 
 with dried grasses ; the spider-legged toilet table had 
 a snowy damask cover, on which rested a plump pin- 
 cushion with the word " Welcome " knitted in the
 
 AT HOME. 95 
 
 pattern on its surface ; and on the bureau stood a 
 vase of Derbyshire spar containing a nosegay of 
 choice autumnal flowers. And nothing but sickness 
 of mind or body could have prevented repose in that 
 luxurious bed. Roomy, with Jong spindly posts 
 reachmg to the uncoiled rafters, it was amply hung 
 with printed Hnen (cotton was scarce and rare when 
 that was bought), on which Arcadian shepherds and 
 shepherdesses were depicted in many colours on a 
 buff ground, amidst trees of impossible foliage (the 
 transom v/indow was draped to correspond), the 
 sheets, temptingly white, and fragrant with lavender, 
 were home-spun and bleached ; the coverlet was 
 knitted of white woollen yarn, the produce of their 
 own sheep ; geese, which had once been goslings on 
 the farm, had supplied the feathers for the double 
 beds and downy pillows, and some of the satisfaction 
 visible in Mr. Heywood's face as he viewed it in the 
 oval swing glass no doubt arose from the contempla- 
 tion of his comfortable quarters. 
 
 In another nook of this irregular and impossible-to- 
 described welling was the chamber of Alice, near the 
 low door of which her parents kissed, and bade her 
 good-night. Ascending the three or four steps which 
 led, as through a tunnel, to the apartment, she 
 entered ; and we are jDrivileged to follow, and make a 
 brief survey. It was a room of peculiar construction, 
 with more sides than one would care to count, no two
 
 96 god's providence house. 
 
 bearing the same proportions. The neatness and 
 order which characterised Mr. Heywood's chamber 
 pervaded tliis also, though in other respects somewhat 
 dissimilar. The home-made carpets were of grey 
 and blue cloth interspersed with list ; there was a 
 patchwork quilt upon the bed, which was hung with 
 gingham woven in a distinct check of dark blue and 
 white. On one wall was suspended a neat set of 
 hanging shelves, containing her disused school-books, 
 prizes, and others, such as Mrs. Chapone's Letters, 
 Blair's Advice to Youth, the Poems of Pope, Cowper, 
 and Addison, The Vicar of Wakefield, Paul and 
 Virginia, The Art of Cookery, Miss Burney's Eveline, 
 and universal Robinson Crusoe, — a well-used Bible 
 and Prayer-book lay on the table. Beneath the book- 
 shelves stood a large antique coffer of black oak, 
 curiously carved ; from this Alice took out the 
 garments required for the morrow's wear, and laid 
 them ready, ere she proceeded to disrobe. 
 
 . Something might have occurred to discompose her, 
 undressing seemed so tedious a process. She stood 
 abstracted, with her boddice half unlaced, then 
 dreamily divested herself of her attire, pausing as 
 she folded each article, and finally, as slie came 
 before her small round dressing-glass to brush out 
 her loDg chestnut hair, as yet unpolluted by powder, 
 her vague thoughts assumed shape, and she stood 
 with one hand clasped above the other, resting on
 
 AT HOME. 97 
 
 tlie toilet-table, seeing in the polished mirror not 
 herself, but the handsome, undefinable face of RoVjert 
 Heywood, courting her favour, reproaching her for 
 ingratitude, yet repelling her in spite of herself. 
 
 There is a principle of attraction and repulsion in 
 souls as well as bodies, and somethiug of this was 
 felt by Alice as she strove in vain with the shadowy 
 distrust of her father's preserver, gradually obscuring 
 her grateful feeling. One by one all the incidents of 
 that eventful day as related by her father, all their 
 supper-table gossip, passed in review before her. 
 She pictured Mr. Heywood riding to the rescue, 
 perchance to involve himself in a life-and-death 
 struggle, binding up wounds, lending his horse, and 
 timing his pace to that of an injured stranger, and 
 every sense of honour and justice seemed to demand 
 her heartfelt thanks for his promptitude and humanity. 
 But something in his manner, or on his lip, or in his 
 glittering eyes — what, she could not define — sealed 
 down the warmer impulses of her heart with an 
 impression of insincerity, and already, without a 
 visible reason, she felt a growing distrust of the man, 
 though thoroughly ashamed to own it, even to lierself. 
 As Alice laid her head upon her pillow with these 
 thoughts and images floating in her mind, so did 
 they mingle in her dreams, and cause her to move 
 uneasily in her sleep. 
 
 When IMr. Heywood had threaded the labyrinth 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 god's providence house. 
 
 of staircases and passages the next morning to the 
 room in which he had supped, he found the family 
 already assembled, and breakfast waiting. Notwith- 
 standing his bruises, which Michael said had made 
 him "as stiff as an old horse," he had been up and 
 out more than an hour, paying the deferred wages, 
 with a small gratuity in each case to compensate for 
 the inconvenience of waiting. 
 
 He saluted Mr. Heywood with " Good morning, 
 my young friend, you are not a very early riser, it 
 seems : I suppose you keep Manchester time ! We 
 country people rise with the lark ; Margaret and Ailsie 
 here have been up for hours, busied in preparations 
 for the wearied travellers (for I overslept myself), 
 while Peggy and Betty were in the dairy sieving the 
 milk as the men brought it from the shippons. The 
 cows have been milked and driven to the meadows 
 long ago. So you may be sure we want our break- 
 fast . I am as hungry as a hunter, though I did 
 despatch a bowl of fleetings * before I went out. 
 
 " I hope you will not take my father's remarks 
 otherwise than as they are meant, pleasantly ; w^e 
 never impose restrictions on the hours of our guests, 
 Mr. Heywood," said Alice, interrupting his apology. 
 
 " I trust you slept well, sir ; some persons cannot 
 sleep in a strange bed," said Mrs. Ford. 
 
 . * A pleasant combination of warm curds and wliey peculiar to 
 etcese farms.
 
 AT HOME. 99 
 
 " Too well, I am afraid, witness my late appear- 
 ance ; but the softness and fragrance of my couch, 
 and the balmy country air are alone answerable for 
 my indolence," replied he, taking his seat as he spoke. 
 
 Rich cream to blend with the aromatic coffee was in 
 the china ewer ; there were wheat-cakes fresh from the 
 bake-stone, on hot plates, bread both brown and white, 
 sweet and pure butter fresh from the dairy, cream 
 cheese of her daughter's making — so said Mrs. Ford 
 — fresh-laid eggs, poultry of their own rearing, ham 
 of their own feeding and curing ; and all on a damask 
 cloth of unrivalled whiteness, the flax for which Alice 
 had spun, as her mother boasted with pardonable 
 pride. 
 
 *' Ah, Mr. Heywood, our Alice will make a famous 
 wife for somebody or other some day. She knows 
 how to use her fingers, and is not too dainty to soil 
 them either." 
 
 " Hush, father," said she, the warm blood mounting 
 to her forehead, though why, it is strange to tell, since 
 she had heard her father make the same remark scores 
 of times before, without emotion. Had Mr. Hey wood's 
 presence anything to do with her change of colour ? 
 
 " Why should I * hush,' child, it's true enough ; not 
 that I care for the samplers and silk work and muslin 
 work you tried your eyes over at school — they are all 
 very well in their way — but give me the hands that 
 can spin the yam for a shirt, make tVie shirt, and wash 
 
 n2
 
 100 god's providence house. 
 
 and iron it when it is made ; that can knit a stocking 
 or darn one, milk a cow, or convert the cheese to milk 
 and butter, bake the bread and brew the ale, make a 
 cake or cook a dinner: and though she's but eighteen, 
 Alice can do all that and more too, for she turns her 
 writing and cyphering to account in keeping my 
 books ; ay, and when her work is over, can cheer us 
 with a merry tune upon the harpsichord, or dance a 
 minuet with any girl in the county." 
 
 Alice had disappeared at the very commencement 
 of this eulogium, and soon appeared at the door of the 
 room, accompanied by her mother, both equipped for 
 walking. " Come, father," said the former, *' are you 
 not ready ? we shall be late at church, the bells have 
 begun to ring." 
 
 " I shall stay at home this morning, my dear, my 
 limbs are too stiff and sore for the walk ; besides, my 
 disfigured face might provoke our parson to wander 
 from his text to some personal allusions anything but 
 pleasant; or, barring that, curiosity would destroy 
 devotion in one-half of the congregation at least — 
 which half, I dare not venture to say. Mr. Heywood 
 will, doubtless, have no objection to take my place." 
 
 With a scarcely perceptible flush, reflected in the 
 face of Alice, though proceeding from widely opposite 
 causes, Mr. Heywood, bowing low, expressed the grati- 
 fication he should " feel in being permitted to escort 
 Miss Ford and her excellent mother."
 
 AT HOME. 101 
 
 The ladies curtsied in graceful acknowledgment of 
 a compliment paid more in tones than words ; and, 
 Mr. Hey wood having obtained his jaunty triangular 
 hat and tasselled cane, the trio passed down the 
 gravelled path, over the wooden stile, down the lane, 
 across the stepping-stones, and on to the hamlet of 
 Witton, where Northwich old church had opened its 
 doors for Sabbath worship. He had cast his riding 
 slough of buckskin breeches, dark cutaway long-tailed 
 coat, broad brimmed hat, and had come forth the 
 butterfly Mr. Ford first beheld him in Chester, 
 something between a Maccaroni beau and a wealthy 
 tradesman ; and Mrs. Ford felt not a little proud of 
 the staring admiration bestowed upon them by the 
 rustics on the road to whom the gentleman was an 
 unusual sight, fashions in those days coming very 
 slowly down to country places remote from the 
 capital. 
 
 Alice, either from the cause first named, or from 
 her own good sense and appreciation of the beautiful, 
 had not disfigured herself by the adoption of those 
 modish monstrosities in head-gear which then passed 
 current as hats and bonnets, but wore a low-crowned, 
 wide-brimmed, round straw hat, trimmed with ribbons 
 the hue of her dress, which served alike as a protec- 
 tion from sun and rain ; her chestnut hair, neither 
 frizzed nor pomatumed, nor powdered, wantoned 
 beneath her hat in rings of nature's curling ; her hoop
 
 102 god's providence house. 
 
 was of the very smallest dimensions, her open robed 
 dress was composed of rustling mulberry-coloured 
 lutestring brocaded with amber, displaying beneath, 
 a petticoat of quilted amber taffeta, silk clocked 
 stockings and high-heeled bronze shoes with paste 
 buckles, set off her small foot and neat ancle : long 
 mittens covered her white arms, on one of which was 
 suspended a large spangled fan: — the universal 
 scarlet cloak with its hood — for utility not display — 
 completed her attire, as sensible, useful, and good as 
 any invented in modern times. 
 
 In shape and material Mrs. Ford's dress differed 
 little from her daughter's, but the colours were darker 
 and more subdued : her shoes were black and so was 
 her silk bonnet, of which the hideous Albert hat is a 
 small and feeble imitation ; it was fastened to her 
 banded hair and the ribbon of her matronly mob-cap 
 by a diamond-headed pin, or bodkin as it was called 
 — and was as ugly an appendage as one could expect 
 to see when no reason for its use existed in the 
 cushioned, pomatumed, and lappeted towers of 
 hair, once the boast of our dirty ancestors ; but 
 fashions outlive uses, and dress was not then the 
 ephemeral thing it is now. Materials were pure and 
 unmixed ; durability, not variety, being considered : 
 the wedding outfit would almost last the life : only 
 aristocratic belles and dames could afford to ape 
 the Parisians, and change their garments as every
 
 AT HOME. 103 
 
 fresh freak or whim brought forth absurd novelty, 
 therefore Mrs. Ford continued to wear that which 
 had been her best bonnet for years. 
 
 The three passed through the churchyard, up the 
 aisle to their cushioned pew near the pulpit, just as 
 the bell ceased tolling, and the clergyman entered the 
 reading-desk. As the service proceeded, Alice ob- 
 served with some surprise that their companion was 
 at a loss to thread the labyrinths of the liturgy, a fact 
 rendered more apparent by the large type of the 
 prayer-books, discernible from some little distance ; 
 and this to one acquainted with the ritual from child- 
 hood seemed to bode no good in the man. The day 
 was heavy, and so was the sermon, and under the 
 influence of one or both Mr. Heywood fell asleep, and 
 nodded until the pealing organ roused him from his 
 ill-timed slumbers. His chagrin on awaking was 
 apparent, but not all his profuse apologies as they 
 returned through the churchyard homewards, sur- 
 rounded by bowing and curtseying country folk, could 
 dissipate her growing antipathy to this man, whose 
 face haunted her unpleasantly, as one seen somewhere 
 in a dream, or in some far-away time. 
 
 As they left the church gates, among the crowd of 
 idlers she noticed an athletic stranger in a nondescript 
 garb, half-seaman, half-landsman, with rough black 
 hair and stubbly beard, and a complexion coloured 
 by exposure or climate, who eyed them all narrowly,
 
 104 god's providence house. 
 
 herself in particular, and once she fancied a quick 
 glance of intelligence passed between the man and 
 Mr. Hey wood. But this must have been fancy, for 
 what connection could there possibly be between that 
 coarse-looking fellow and the well-dressed, elegant 
 individual by her side ? so she determined to dismiss 
 the unworthy thought. However, she asked Mr. 
 Hey wood if he had remarked the stranger and his 
 looks, and on his replying in the negative would have 
 directed his attention to the man, but he had dis- 
 appeared in the crowd. 
 
 *' I am surprised you did, not observe him," said 
 she, wonderingly ; " there was something so very 
 peculiar in his appearance." 
 
 " You forget, Miss Ford, that all the rustics assem- 
 bled here are equally strangers to me, though not 
 to you, one face would not impress me more than 
 another; and," continued he, in an imdertone, 
 bending towards her as he spoke, "with so sweet 
 a face to contemplate as the one before me, I may 
 be pardoned if that rude clown escaped my obser- 
 vation." 
 
 This open compliment from so new an acquaintance, 
 not less than the glance of admiration which accom- 
 panied it, somewhat disconcerted Alice, driving recent 
 impressions from her mind, but only to return with 
 fresh force, for the flattery annoyed her ; a proof that 
 there was no responsive echo in her heart. That
 
 AT HOME. 105 
 
 which is gross flattery from the unregarded, is 
 cherished sweetness from the lips we love. 
 
 Mrs. Ford, less observant of microscopic trifles than 
 her daughter, was perfectly fascinated with the smiling 
 and attentive gentleman, whom she lauded to Michael 
 as a mirror of perfection. His generous and humane 
 attention to her husband first bespoke her goodwill, 
 which was increased every hour by his obliging man- 
 ner, fluent conversation, and evident desire to render 
 himself agreeable. 
 
 Nor was Michael's prepossession less : won over in 
 the first instance by the courteous surrender of an 
 afternoon to his service in Chester, and by his appa- 
 rent promptitude in business matters, the Delamere 
 Forest transactions only served to confirm his favour- 
 able impressions, so he was gratified to find Margaret's 
 opinion, then, as ever, coincided with his own. 
 
 After dinner, Mr. Ford volunteered to show his 
 guest over the farm, and, at Mr. Hey wood's repeated 
 request, Alice accompanied them, with a reluctance 
 she did not care to let her father see, he was so 
 wrapped up in his new friend. 
 
 Being the Sabbath, of course all farming opera- 
 tions were suspended, but they wandered through 
 the corn-fields, where flocks of geese were picking 
 up the ripe grain from amongst the stubble ; 
 through the meadows where stout horses and large 
 numbers of sleek cows grazed and ruminated, or
 
 106* god's providence house. 
 
 scattered slieep nibbled the sweet grass close to 
 the roots ; through the orchard crowded with trees 
 filled with pears aud apples ready to be pulled, ripen- 
 ing plums, and damsons waiting for future frosts ; 
 through the large and well-filled stack and poultry 
 yards ; the barns, the granary, the shippons, dairy, 
 press-room and cheese-room ; Mr. Ford explaining 
 processes not in operation with the gusto of a man 
 proud of his calling, and the skill he had brought to 
 bear upon it. 
 
 Mr. Heywood listened attentively — with now and 
 then a furtive glance or whispered word to his fair 
 companion, whose colour came and went in fitful 
 flushes — examined carefully, praised judiciously, and 
 was quite enthusiastic on farming, and country life, 
 when they reached the room in which tea was laid. 
 
 This room was situated on the opposite side of the 
 hall to the one previously occupied during Mr. Hey- 
 wood's stay, and was lit by a deep bay window, round 
 which the jessamine clustered its fragrant stars, and 
 where a comfortable window-seat invited the luxuri- 
 ous to sit and survey the rich foliage, or inhale the 
 perfume of sweet flowers. After tea, Alice took her 
 seat at the harpsichord (an instrument in shape, not 
 tone, like a modern grand piano), and played with 
 much feeling a number of chants and sacred melodies, 
 Mr. Heywood standing by her side, and bending over 
 her with a thoroughly enraptured gaze.
 
 AT HOME. 107 
 
 Above the harpsichord hung a sampler, bearing the 
 name of Alice Ford, containing some marvellously 
 irregular verses, a very apocryphal " Tree of Life," a 
 wondrously rigid serpent, gorilla-like representations 
 of Adam and Eve, and, as Mrs. Ford exultingly dis- 
 played, the needle with which the careful and orderly 
 girl had worked the whole. Then there was a por- 
 trait of Alice, painted on white lutestring, and em- 
 broidered in fine silk all over, except arms and neck 
 and face ; the artist had depicted her with a canary, 
 held by a riband, fluttering on her finger, whilst an 
 angular squirrel and a rabbit gambolled at her feet. 
 This Mr. Heywood regarded with much apparent 
 interest, and openly avowed that he " envied them 
 its possession," an exclamation received with evident 
 gratification by her parents — by herself in silent dis- 
 pleasure. 
 
 When Mr. Heywood again retired to rest in his 
 comfortable room, he held a consultation with him- 
 self, and thus his cogitations shaped themselves: 
 
 *' What a d d fool I was to go to church with that 
 
 girl. I might have stayed to bear the father company 
 
 with a good grace ; and double d d to fall asleep. 
 
 I should have taken a snuff-box; snuff would have 
 kept my senses awake ! And Alice, with her beautiful 
 quick eyes, saw me fumbling with the leaves of the 
 book ! T saw she did. She little thinks, though, the 
 years that have passed since I saw the inside of a
 
 108 god's providence house, 
 
 church ! And that fellow, what was he doing there ? 
 But she is lovely, beyond question ; a desirable wife, 
 if not too determined. I read resolution in her eye 
 and lip, and her face is a pretty legible volume. And 
 what a farm ! The old fellow must be richer than we 
 calculated (Who did he mean by we 2) Well, I've 
 crept up Ms sleeve tolerably, I've a notion. As for 
 the mother, she's but a cypher ; however, cyphers 
 give importance to units, so I must get round the 
 cypher too. I wish I could win the girl over before I 
 go : I fear I make no way with tier ! I wonder if 
 
 that d d stupid jackass Latham remembers her 
 
 yet ? He used to be quite soft about her when she 
 went to school at Miss Briscoe's. She does not seem 
 to have any remembrance of me. What a change a 
 periwig makes in a man ! I hope they won't go to 
 the Grange before Christmas ; but I can put a spoke 
 in that wheel! If I came down to Northwich 
 December Fair, I might make my footing sure. I 
 must do it ! If they go to the Grange, and she meets 
 Latham, my chance is a poor one. Schoolgirl as she 
 was, I always suspected her of a sneaking kindness 
 
 for that d d rascal ! I don't want him for a rival ! 
 
 Well, well, play your cards boldly, Robert He} wood ; 
 trump after trick, that's your game, and may you 
 keep on winning!" 
 
 If Mr. Ford could have heard Robert Heywood's 
 thoughts that night, would he have said to his wife in
 
 AT HOME. 109 
 
 connubial confidence, in the privacy of their own 
 chamber — "Mr. Heywood seems to have taken a 
 fancy to our Alice, and I'm glad of it?" or would 
 the wdfe so readily have responded, " So am I ?"
 
 110 god's providence house. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SHADOWS ROUND THE WINDOW-SEAT. 
 
 .The following morning Mr. Heywood came down 
 to breakfast in his travelling dress, pleading as his 
 excuse, the necessity for his immediate departure, 
 accompanied with many expressions of regret that the 
 urgency of his business would not permit a longer 
 stay with the hospitable friends, to whom his " heart 
 had already gone forth," glancing expressively towards 
 Alice as he spoke; but as she was then engaged 
 pouring out the coffee, the look was lost upon her, at 
 least. 
 
 "Is not this a very hasty determination ? I 
 thought you would have remained with us some days. 
 Is your business so very imperative ?" inquired Mr. 
 Ford, really grieved to lose him. 
 
 ** Well," answered he very deliberately, as though 
 debating with himself, " I 7nust see my customers in 
 Northwich this morning ; and expect a letter will be 
 lying at the post-office which will determine my move-
 
 SHADOWS ROUND THE WINDOW SEAT. Ill 
 
 ments. I suppose you are aware the principal com- 
 merce of Chester Fair is a barter trade?" (Mr. Ford 
 nodded assent.) '* Well, the Welsh flannels and 
 other bulky goods I took in exchange, were forwarded 
 by canal to Manchester, at the close of the fair, and 
 had not been delivered at the warehouse when Mr. 
 Cardwell communicated with me last. If I am not 
 advised of their arrival, I must ride post-haste to 
 Warrington, to ascertain the cause of delay, or 
 endeavour to obtain some tidings of the missing 
 goods. Otherwise " and he paused. 
 
 " Otherwise, I hope you will return hither, Mr. 
 Heywood. We are homely, but very hearty; too 
 honest to press your stay if urgent business calls you 
 hence ; but I trust hospitable enough to desire your 
 company, and give you the best w^e have got, with a 
 genuine welcome, so long as you please to remain ;" 
 and as he spoke Mr. Ford extended his hand across 
 the table and gave Mr. Heywood's delicate fingers a 
 hearty grip, forgetful of his own cut palm, in confir- 
 mation of his speech. 
 
 " Perhaps," quietly suggested Mrs. Ford, " the 
 goods have arrived safely by this time, canal carriage 
 is but slow, but then it is sure. Alice, press Mr. 
 Heywood's return, if his letter be satisfactory." 
 
 Politely, but reservedly, Alice seconded her parent's 
 invitation for their guest to remain ; and though in his 
 heart he cursed her coldness, he smiled and bowed, and
 
 112 god's providence house. 
 
 declared he should be " delighted to extend his visit 
 if practicable ;" — and he meant it too. 
 
 All the household, Peggy included (for he had con- 
 trived to ingratiate himself into that damsel's favour), 
 followed Mr. Heywood to the gate with handshaking 
 and good wishes, and watched the graceful figure of 
 the horseman down the lane and over the ford, until 
 the bend of the road hid horses, and pack, and rider 
 from view. All — no, not all the household; Alice 
 contented herself with bidding him " Good-bye" at 
 the door, extending her hand, which he pressed with 
 a warmth and a whispered word which once more 
 caused the blood to mantle in her face with an indig- 
 nant flush, as she turned away to pursue her ordinary 
 avocations. 
 
 Sire and matron construed flush and reserve into 
 the blush of dawning love, and maidenly timidity. 
 Did Robert Hey^vood make any such mistake ? Not 
 he. He passed out of sight and hearing with set 
 teeth and knitted brows ; and the muttered thought 
 of his heart was, "That I desire, I'll have, even if 
 the devil stands in the gap !" 
 
 There was a letter at the post-office addressed to 
 " Mr. Eobert Heywood" (Esqrs. were not then plen- 
 tiful as blackberries), and a rather unique epistle it 
 was. 
 
 *' Sir, — Snow has melted, and the dust is laid ;
 
 SHADOWS HOUND THE WINDOW SEAT, 118 
 
 old iron in demand; Welsh flannels come to hand, 
 marketable at a premium. What of the new specu- 
 lation ? 
 
 " Yours to command, 
 
 "J. C." 
 
 Folding this document, with a smile of satisfaction, 
 he turned his horse's head towards an inn in Witton 
 Street, where he dismounted, gave his horses in charge 
 to the ostler, and selecting a man from the group of 
 idlers lounging about the stable-yard, after a few 
 words, possibly of bargain, transferred the pack to the 
 man's shoulders, and sallied forth to the shops of his 
 customers. By a strange coincidence this was the 
 athletic, bronzed stranger Alice had remarked at the 
 church gate. 
 
 Mr. Hey wood's customers were few, and the business 
 invariably transacted in the back parlours with closed 
 doors ; but the pack was considerably lightened before* 
 they returned to the inn, and the bagman dismissed 
 his singular porter after paying him very liberally for 
 his short service. 
 
 By the time he had discussed a late dinner at the 
 inn (cooked after the ordinary meal was cleared 
 away), mused awhile on possibilities and probabilities, 
 called for writing materials, and answered his corre- 
 spondent J.C., the evening shadows had closed around ; 
 so he ordered his horses,*paid his bill, and returned ; 
 
 vol.. T. I
 
 114 god's providence house. 
 
 as he had all the while inteDded, to Ford-brook farm. 
 His offer to depart had been little more than a ruse 
 to elicit some token of Alice's feeling towards himself, 
 and obtain a more pressing and extended invitation 
 from the grateful yeoman and his wife. He had suc- 
 ceeded in the latter only. 
 
 After tea that evening, while Mr. Ford and his wife 
 were discussing, with more than ordinary unanimity, 
 the many apparent good properties of their late visitor, 
 their daughter, with a troubled face, selected her work 
 from a well-filled basket, and retired to the solitude of 
 the best parlour, as she had done more than once 
 since their residence at Grenville Grange became 
 a theme of conversation. That night she closed 
 the door, and, crossing the room to the bay window, 
 seated herself on the wooden window-seat, with her 
 face to the gate, and plied her needle actively. She 
 was netting, with thick cotton, curtains for their new 
 home, and as she passed her needle swiftly through the 
 loops, or drew the stitches to the mesh, she tightened 
 each knot wath a determined jerk, as though life was 
 on her thread, and she wove the web of many des- 
 tinies. Presently her speed slackened as her mood 
 changed, then her hands faltered, and finally dropped 
 idly on her lap, whilst needle, mesh and netting, fell to 
 the floor, and lay there unregarded. The disturbing 
 present was gone, and the past, softened by memory 
 and distance, had usurped its'*place. She was once n)ore
 
 « 
 SHADOWS ROUND THE WINDOW SEAT. 115 
 
 a girl of fourteen, conformiDg to the rigid rules of the 
 Misses Briscoe's school in Queen Street, Chester, with 
 no means of communication with home, save the 
 routine letters which told, in set and lying phrase- 
 ology, how happy she w^as under the 3Iisses Briscoe's 
 mild dominion ; how much she loved each amiable 
 preceptress ; and how soiTy she would be to quit their 
 delightful abode, where study and difficult tasks were 
 made positively pleasureable, instruction was so agree- 
 ably conveyed. She thought of the thick bread across 
 which a butter-knife had been wiped ; of the pale 
 stone-coloured milk-and-water, called by courtesy (in 
 the shape of Miss Briscoe), tea ; of the three mornings a 
 week v/hen she shared her breakfast with schoolfellows 
 more hungry and less dainty than herself, to whom 
 the egg-shells, and other delicate sweepings of the 
 kitchen- dresser, were less repulsive ; of the rolls (not 
 sweets) bought with hoarded pence by friendly and 
 pitying day-scholars, and eaten surreptitiously. Then 
 she thought of the hurried undressing in the dark — or 
 light — of a chamber dip, left on the staircase for ten 
 minutes, to illuminate four rooms, while their occu- 
 pants doffed their day-clothes, donned their night- 
 robes, carefully folded the former, mumbled their 
 prayers, and shuffled into their scantly covered beds ; 
 then, of the ringing morning bells, the scramble to 
 dress ; the second bell, the long prayers in the school- 
 room ; of the wearying class for courtseying practice ; 
 
 1 2
 
 116 god's providence house. 
 
 the back-board ; the stocks ; the military collar, and 
 other instruments of feminine school torture (of that 
 century); of the fines levied for standing on the 
 hearth, for entering the kitchen, for dilatoriness in 
 dressing, for hanging bag, slate, or pinafore on a wrong 
 hook, misplacing a book, or making a blot ; of the 
 pretentious box for " clothing the poor," into which 
 tliese mulcted half-pence, and even sixpences, were 
 dropped for half-yearly dispensation, by the charitable 
 and pious spinsters. Then she remembered the 
 gentle face of the thoroughly educated lady-like gov- 
 erness, the orphan daughter of a poor naval officer, 
 who left them, -all too soon for the pupils, hardly soon 
 enough for the teacher — left them as the wife of 
 another officer ; and the wedding came before her as 
 an event in the dull monotony of school life. Then 
 she conjured up with Memory's wand the benign 
 features of that aged servant of God, John Wesley, as 
 she saw them, as he made prayer in their schoolroom 
 one Sabbath evening, when, his public ministration 
 over, he accepted Sister Briscoe's invitation to "sojourn 
 for the night beneath her humble roof," and she felt 
 a^ain the light touch of his reverend hand upon her 
 head, as he blessed her and her schoolmates at his de- 
 parture in the morning. 
 
 From John Wesley her thoughts reverted to the 
 octagon chapel in Foregate Street, where the Misses 
 Briscoe and her pupils worshipped on Sabbath evenings;
 
 SHADOWS ROUND THE WINDOW SEAT. 117 
 
 thence to St. John's ancient church, with its hideous 
 excresences of heavy galleries and high pews, in which 
 Miss Briscoe's young ladies faced Mr. Twemlow's 
 young gentlemen, during the morning service. Here 
 memory lingered lovingly, for one face among the 
 elder pupils had captivated her young fancy, and 
 her mind's eye followed the youth down the aisle, 
 and through the beautiful arch of the old church 
 porch, until capricious memory gave her back a 
 holiday — when older grown and budding into woman- 
 hood — to visit a day-scholar, long after the attractive 
 " young gentleman " had left Mr. Twemlow's pew and 
 academy. 
 
 It gave her back, too, her former self, tripping 
 down Watergate Street, and stopped rudely by a 
 sickly-looking young man, with light hair, and 
 bright, unpleasant eyes, who strove to kiss her, 
 and insisted on joining her in her walk. The 
 same memory brought again to her asssistance, a 
 much younger man, with a courageous front, and 
 dauntless bearing, who interposed between her per- 
 secutor and herself, and compelled the bully to relin- 
 quish the arm he held, then, like a brother, guarded 
 her to her friend's door, and, unknown to her, stood 
 sentinel there for hours to protect her home, because 
 the pale-faced scoundrel had been also on the watch. 
 Again she saw the scowl on that white face, and the 
 defiant eye ; but they passed, and there were other
 
 118 god's providexce house. 
 
 balf-holidays, and other accidental meetings with her 
 champion : the pleasant face again occupied a pew in 
 St. John's church, and there were little floral offerings 
 w^hich still lay enshrined betw^een the leaves of her 
 Church Service. And there was a name which 
 liad been only a sweet memory ; but now she read 
 " Latham" by the living light of hope. 
 
 Gradually, as the young girl sat there looking out 
 from that window and seeing, not the garden, nor the 
 gate, but the panorama of the past, scented not with 
 jessamine, but the faded flowers of the long ago — 
 gradually and slowly the evening shadows came troop- 
 ing down, first as a twilight veil, then deeper and 
 deeper until night's dark pall rested on the tree-tops, 
 and swept the ground with its sable fringe ; gradually 
 the shadows closed around her as she sat, but there 
 was light in the chamber of her heart, and she saw 
 them not. But a darker shadow than night was on 
 the threshold, and blind eyes saw it not. Robert 
 Heywood was at the door, and was welcomed as we 
 welcome sunshine. 
 
 The light and warmth faded out of the heart of 
 Alice, startled into consciousness by Peggy's loud 
 greeting, as she opened the door for the returning 
 visitor, with the abrupt exclamation, "Glad to see 
 you back ag^in, Mester Yawood ! Oi knowed you'd 
 come afore supper, for oi dropped a knife o'th kitchen 
 floor this afternoon, and oi knowed o'ther yo' or suni'on
 
 SHADOWS ROUND THE WINDOW SEAT. 119 
 
 else 'ud be here. Walk in, sir ; mester '11 be reeglit 
 glad to see ye, and missis too, oi reckon. Mester Ford, 
 here's Mester Yawood back again," said she, opening 
 the sitting-room door and ushering in the visitor, and 
 almost in the same breath, bawling at the pitch of 
 her voice, " Deack ! Deack ! come hither, and take Mr. 
 Ya wood's beasts to the stable !" 
 
 Dick came, and went, and Peggy retired to her 
 culinary demesne ; but Alice sat still in the window- 
 seat, as it were crouching beneath the shadow which 
 had fallen on her like a blight; and there she re- 
 mained until a loud summons from her father com- 
 pelled attention, and she left the dark room, which to 
 her had been light, for the lighted sitting-room where 
 she felt a shadow brooded. She entered with dazzled 
 eyes, muttering something about sleepiness, and was 
 polite in her reception of her father's friend — nothing 
 more. 
 
 The stiffness and soreness of Michael's limbs did not 
 pass away in a day or two, and during that time 
 locomotion was confined to the farm and its surround- 
 ings, or to a day's fishing in the river Dane ; but before 
 the end of the week which Mr. Heywood (not willing 
 to risk a second Sunday sermon) had assigned as the 
 extreme limit of his stay, Michael, with a desire to 
 cater for the pleasure of his guest, proposed a visit to 
 a salt-mine in the neighbourhood, as a remarkable 
 natural curiosity, likely to repay inspection. The
 
 320 god's providexce house. 
 
 suggestion met with the approval of INIr. Heywood and 
 Mrs. Ford ; but Alice, with true feminine perversity, 
 declined to be of the party. It was known and argued 
 by her mother, " that as she had never been in a salt- 
 mine, she could not be aware of the treat in store 
 for her." Alice, however, was pertinacious in refusing, 
 urofinor as her excuse " an obstinate headache." 
 
 *' Perhaps, Michael, after all, we had better leave 
 the poor girl at home if her head aches," compassion- 
 ately suggested obtuse and pliable Mrs. Ford. 
 
 "Obstinate fiddlestick ! more like an obstinate 
 temper than headache," struck in Mr. Ford, testily, 
 '' Nothing ailed the girl at breakfast, nor until I made 
 a proposal for our joint gratification, which ought to 
 have delighted her, when, for some nonsensical whim 
 or other, she at once has an obstinate headache. You 
 will put your thing's on, miss, and go with us without 
 another word !" added he, decisively, surprised at this 
 faint intimation that his wish was no longer the domi- 
 nant law of his household. So Alice thought it pru- 
 dent to comply, though it was with an ill grace, which 
 her parents mentally ascribed to either female \vay- 
 wardness or bashfulness. How often is the result of a 
 maiden's best reasonings and instincts, on which 
 womanly delicacy sets the seal of secrecy, mistaken for 
 wilfulness or caprice ! 
 
 And what said Mr. Heywood during this little 
 domestic discussion ? At first he turned away to the
 
 SHADOWS ROUND THE WINDOW SEAT. 121 
 
 window to hide his chagrin, biting his nether hp to 
 keep his temper down (for that was just the feeUng he 
 had least under control ) ; but finding Mr. Ford's view 
 of Alice's excuse likely to prevail, he bowed, and came 
 forward saying, graciously, " Do not let your kindly 
 anxiety to give me a pleasure be made a cause of in- 
 convenience or annoyance to ]\Iiss Ford. It would be 
 a source of extreme regret to me if my visit here should 
 be associated in your good daughter's mind with any 
 unpleasent recollection of pain or coercion. I would 
 leave only pleasant memories behind me, if possible. 
 Could not this excursion be deferred until to-morrow 
 morning ? The young lady might then be better, 
 and I could proceed on my journey from North wich 
 without returning hither." 
 
 *' I think, Michael, as Mr. Heywood has been so 
 kind as to suggest a change in our arrangements, to- 
 morrow might do quite as well?" inquiringly and 
 timidly chimed in Mrs. Ford. 
 
 " Mr. Heywood always is kind and considerate — 
 always ; but I said to-day, and to-day it shall be ! Is 
 not to-morrow Saturday ?" 
 
 *'Ah, yes, to be sure. We could not very well 
 leave the farm on a Saturday; but I must go and get 
 ready," said acquiescent Mrs. Ford, as she turned to 
 leave the room for that purpose. Alice had been gone 
 some minutes. 
 
 For once she "got ready" quicker than her daugh-
 
 122 god's providence house. 
 
 ter ; but soon Alice made her appearance, with height- 
 ened colour and compressed lips, and a light in her 
 brown eye very different from the languor of indispo- 
 sition : resolution and self-assertion were there, but 
 not the heaviness occasioned by pain. Possibly the 
 headache ivas feigned, and Mr. Ford saw it. In that 
 case he would deem her refusal a breach of hospi- 
 tality, and an insult to his guest ; so no wonder he 
 chafed at opposition to his desires — to say nothing of 
 his will. 
 
 Michael paired off with Mrs. Ford and led the way, 
 desiring the younger couple to follow, as they did, Mr. 
 Heywood apologizing as they went for being the " un- 
 intentional cause of annoyance to one whose favour he 
 was so desirous to cultivate," etcetera, etcetera. 
 
 Soon conversation became general and discursive, 
 Michael now and then turning his head to address 
 some observation to his very good and tried friend. 
 
 It was a beautiful autumnal day, the air neither 
 sultry nor cool, but fresh and genial ; the trees were 
 glorious with rich hues, from deep dark green, or 
 olive, to full brown or bright crimson ; the brook 
 rippled over the pebbles in faint music, late birds sang 
 from the bramble bushes or hazel boughs ; and, alto- 
 gether, the walk was an exceedingly pleasant one, 
 notwithstanding the unaccountable shrinking of the 
 younger lady from the advances of her companion. 
 
 Alice was certainly not prepared for the sight which
 
 SHADOWS ROUND THE WINDOW SEAT. 123 
 
 met her eyes on entering the salt-mine. It rose 
 round and above them like a vast natural cathe- 
 dral, resplendent and glistening as the numberless 
 candles lit up, and displayed its magnificent propor- 
 tions. From the principal and natural cavern, exca- 
 vations branched off in different directions, the roof 
 being supported, like that of a coal-pit, by large square 
 pillars of the rock, left standing at regular intervals, the 
 whole combining to form a series of aisles and arches 
 dazzling and bewildering to the sight of unused be- 
 holders. The extreme purity of the North wich salt-rock 
 contributed not a little to its crystalline lustre,the splen- 
 dour of which elicited many exclamations of delight and 
 surprise both from Alice and Mr. Heywood ; indeed 
 S3 engrossed was she in the contemplation of the 
 wondrous scene, that for a time prejudices and antipa- 
 thies were forgotten, and she became companionable 
 and loveable as ever. 
 
 Mr. Ford observed with pleasure the radiant 
 change in her features, and stooping towards Margaret 
 uttered his self-gratulations on having compelled her 
 to come with them. His rejoicing was very short- 
 lived. Turning abruptly to quit one of these sparkling 
 arcades, as they retraced their steps to the entrance, 
 Alice caught her high heel against some protuberance 
 in the uneven floor, her foot turned, she slipped with 
 a sharp cry of pain, and but for Mr. Hey wood's ready 
 arm, would have fallen to the ground. There she lay, for
 
 124 god's providence house. 
 
 the second time, in his unrepiilsed embrace, in a half- 
 swoon, which left her the consciousness of pain, and of 
 his impassioned, straining clasp, but no ability to 
 move, no power to resist. 
 
 " Oh, dear, dear ! what shall we do ?" Mrs. Ford 
 repeatedly exclaimed, in great perturbation; while 
 Michael, equally distressed, would have relieved Mr. 
 Heywood of his fair burden, but his own wounded 
 arm forbade it. Their guide was, therefore, de- 
 spatched for water, but before it came she had revived 
 under the influence of the cool air in the mines. She 
 strove to free herself from Mr. Heywood's arms, but 
 found she could not stand, could not bear to put her 
 right foot to the ground, in fact. It was ascertained 
 that she had sprained her right ankle severely, and 
 was unable to move without acute suffering. 
 
 There was no affectation in Robert Heywood's 
 sympathy now ! Every lineament of his face showed 
 that he suffered with her. From those wonderful 
 pockets he produced a silk handkerchief or two, and 
 requested Mrs. Ford to bind the injure<l ankle tightly, 
 which she did, with trembling fingers. He then 
 lifted Alice tenderly, and bore her to the entrance. 
 As soon as they gained the open air, he spread 
 another handkerchief on the ground, and seated her 
 there, begging earnestly that she would continue to 
 accept the support of his arm; and seeing that 
 she was too faint and sick to support herself, she
 
 SHADOWS ROUND THE WINDOW SEAT. 125 
 
 may be pardoned by the most fastidious for com- 
 pliance. 
 
 Meanwhile one of the guides had been despatched 
 to the " Crown Inn" for a sedan chair, and the nearest 
 country Esculapius. The man of draughts and 
 boluses, splints and bandages, shook his powdered 
 periwig gravely, felt at the ankle, here and there, with 
 touches that made his patient wince beneath his 
 probing fingers ; then he bound up the member 
 scientifically, and gave instructions for his patient to 
 be carried home, which, considering that she could 
 neither stand nor walk, was a slightly superfluous 
 item of advice. But home she was carried as gently 
 as possible, Mr. Heywood secretly feeing the rough 
 chairmen to be careful with their precious freight. 
 And though Peggy, who opened the front door, 
 arrayed, as usual, in leather stays (worn outside), a 
 camlet gown and petticoat, and unvarying mob-cap 
 of spotless linen — though Peggy would have lifted out 
 her young mistress as easily and safely as himself, he 
 thrust her aside ; and taking the dear girl once more 
 in his arms, bore her to the window- seat in the best 
 parlour, followed closely by that aggrieved domestic, 
 exclaiming, as she came along, " Ah, this all comes 
 a'goin a sight-seein' on a Friday. Oi know'd no good 
 'ud come on it ! Oi know'd it !" But Mr. Heywood 
 put a stop to Peggy's lachrymose ejaculations, by 
 despatching her in all haste for pillows and cushions,
 
 126 god's providence house. 
 
 which he arranged himself so deftly and promptly 
 that Peggy and Mrs. Ford alike looked on in wonder, 
 both feeling themselves supplanted; the inferiority 
 of the one, and the passive inertness of the other, 
 being overpowered by the more active brain and 
 dominant will of Robert Heywood. 
 
 As for Alice, in spite of all her prejudices, her 
 instincts, her inward shrinking from his touch, she 
 looked her gratitude and spoke it too ; in few and 
 brief words, it must be confessed ; but the man's 
 heart bounded with joy as he heard them. 
 
 For the remainder of the day Mr. Heywood devoted 
 himself entirely and assiduously to Alice, with the 
 tact and tenderness of a woman. He adjusted her 
 pillows, administered the cooling draught Esculapius 
 had forwarded, read to her, and conversed v/ith her ; 
 so that when twilight closed in round the two in that 
 bay window, though the shadow was there, deeper 
 and closer than before, the light of the past was 
 not there, to reveal the dark present and looming 
 future. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the delight and gratification 
 of Mr. and Mrs. Ford at the kindness and tenderness 
 of Mr. Heywood to Alice, and her seeming acceptance 
 of his attentions ; mistaking, as is too often the case, 
 her gratitude for warmer emotion. 
 
 That evening their new friend brought from his 
 chamber presents, which he distributed very grace-
 
 SHADOWS ROUND THE WINDOW SEAT. 127 
 
 fully. Meeting Peggy at the door of the kitchen, he 
 placed a lawn neckerchief and bright ribbon for her 
 Sunday hat, in her brown hand, and begged she 
 would " wear them for his sake." With profuse 
 thanks, and many bobbing curtsies, she took his gifts, 
 and ran delighted to display her finery to Betty, the 
 dairy-maid, and Dick, the farming- man, between 
 whom and herself a sort of sneaking kindness was 
 supposed to exist. "Didn't oi tell yo," said she, 
 waving her prize triumphantly, " didn't oi tell yo oi 
 should have summut given me. Oi know'd it wasn't 
 for naught oi'd that great white spot on moi thumb 
 nail all week ! ' G-ifts on the thumb are swe to come F 
 and you see oi've gotten moine." 
 
 ^'Neay, lass, tlie spots o' thy thumb ha' naught to 
 do wi' it. It's more loike thy good temper an good- 
 will, and Mester Yawood's own koindness. Don't 
 thee be so suppositious." 
 
 In the sitting-room he found Mrs. Ford ; and, for 
 her acceptance, offered a rich dress of Lyons silk, as 
 a '^ very small token of the esteem in which he held 
 herself and every member of the family, and his ap- 
 preciation of their generous hospitality;" he "begged 
 she would not pain him by a refusal." With some 
 little hesitation this also was accepted, and now it 
 only remained to induce Alice to receive a gift from 
 his hands. He entered the parlour with less than his 
 ordinary confidence, but the two mould candles on
 
 128 god's PKOVIDKNCE HOUSE. 
 
 the table shed so feeble a light, that the window-seat 
 was in a twilight very favourable to his purpose. 
 Havino- raised her pillow, inquired if the pain in her 
 ankle had subsided under recent fomentation, and re- 
 ceived an afiSrmative reply, he drew his chair closer, 
 and, with a very perceptible tremor in his voice, said, 
 *'Miss Ford — Alice, I depart in the early morning for 
 Manchester; it may be some months before I have 
 again the pleasure of seeing you : pardon me, oh, 
 pardon me, if what I say is premature, and forgive 
 the impulse which hurries me on. I am a stranger, 
 an entire stranger, and therefore at a disadvantage ; 
 but oh, beautiful Alice, be to me less cold than you 
 have been ; let me dare to hope that in some future 
 day you may receive me with a warmer welcome, and 
 listen to my love, for I do love you ;" and for once in 
 his life Robert Hey wood spoke truth. 
 
 IMany times during this earnest address Alice w^ould 
 have interrupted the speaker, but his impetuosity bore 
 no check. Now, she said, kindly but sadly : 
 
 " I am sorry, Mr. Hey wood, it should be so. I am 
 grateful to you, very grateful, for the invaluable ser- 
 vice you rendered my dear father ; and, lying here as 
 1 do, bearing around me the signs of your goodness 
 and gentleness (she did not say tenderness), I should 
 be unworthy a thought did I not gratefully appreciate 
 all you have done for us, for me ; but I beg you will 
 not require more. As a friend, you will be most
 
 SHADOWS HOUND THE WINDOW SEAT. 1'2'J 
 
 welcome to us all. I cannot promise more," and her 
 voice trembled with reluctance to give pain. She had 
 felt the beating of his heart, the tremor through his 
 whole frame, as he clasped her closely to his breast 
 when she would have fallen in the mine, and that 
 rapid pulsation telling of genuine emotion, had set her 
 reason in array against her antipathies. She felt she 
 had been prejudiced and unjust without cause, and 
 was anxious to repair the error with friendship, not 
 love. What time might have effected in the oblitera- 
 tion of old memories is not to be known, but now she 
 had no love for him, and so she candidly avowed. 
 
 " You know little, nothing of me as yet. Miss Ford. 
 Will you, will you, in mercy, permit me to renew this 
 subject months hence, here or at the Grange, when 
 time will prove my truth and the true nature of your 
 own feelings towards me ? Will you, Alice ?"' 
 
 " There is little likelihood of my sentiments chang- 
 ing ; it is better, therefore, this painful conversation 
 should not be renewed." 
 
 " Alice, I cannot go away with this repulse ; I feel 
 you do not know your own heart. You are young — 
 I will wait — I must wait, till time shall mature your 
 own sentiments, and then I will come for your 
 decision." He paused — there was no response, and 
 he drew a favourable augury from her silence — the 
 silence of sadness, not indecision. 
 
 "Will you, Alice, dear Alice, accept from me, as 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 god's providence house. 
 
 a dear friend, this trifle : it may serve to remind you 
 of me when I am gone ; and, oh, may it serve to fan 
 friendship into the love I covet." 
 
 " Why do you persist, Mr. Hey wood, in asking the 
 love I cannot bestow? I will not wound you by re- 
 fusing your gift " (an exquisitely carved fan of foreign 
 workmansliip) ; " but I shall preserve it in memory of 
 my father's true friend — and — mine. Do not seek for 
 anything beyond," and she held out her hand to him 
 as a pitying sister might have done. Robert Heywood 
 raised it respectfully but tenderly to his lips, and 
 released it with a sigh, saying, impressively, yet 
 mournfully, as he did so, " Alice, I can wait."
 
 131 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 HOPES AND FEARS. 
 
 Alice kept her room the next morning, 3Ir5. Ford 
 conveying her adieus to Mr. Hey^YOod in language 
 perhaps a trifle more flattering to the gentleman's 
 vanity than the original message, and he, not kno\\Tng 
 the favourable medium through which it percolated, 
 cherished each word as full of hopeful meaning. 
 Prior to his departure Robert Heywood had a long- 
 conversation with Mr. Ford, on the subject of his 
 pretensions, his hopes and aspirations, his business, 
 and his prospects, in which a few grains of truth were 
 hid in a bushel of falsehood ; but Michael, though a 
 very good farmer, was not able to winnow his wheat, 
 and took much for granted that in common prudence 
 he should have tested. The result of this interview 
 was, that Robert Heywood was at full liberty to come 
 and go whensoever he listed, and to w^oo and win hie 
 lady-love with her father's fuU'consent, as speedily as 
 might be. 
 
 k2
 
 182 god's providence house. 
 
 Of the young ladv's own acquiescence a question 
 was never raised ; Mr. Hejwood carefully avoided the 
 subject, and to 3[r. Ford it never occurred. Here 
 was an eligible offer made by a most fascinating man, 
 who had rendered him an essential service in a sore 
 strait, the partner in a wealthy firm ; all, in fact, a 
 parent's heart could wish, and. as a matter of course, 
 the daughter's also. Any idea that Alice might pos- 
 sibly have a counter opinion never irradiated his 
 
 mind. 
 
 Fortunately fur Alice, since it saved her much pain 
 and persecution, Mr. Hey wood, with some plausible 
 sophistry, had contrived to imbue ^lichael with the 
 notion that it would be most desirable to leave her 
 unfettered by an engagement, in this early stage of 
 his wooing, and that the confidential communication 
 he had thought, as an honourable man, necessary to 
 make to ^Ir. Ford, should remain a matter of private 
 understanding between them until his return to 
 North wich the first week in December, for the winter- 
 fair, or earlier, if the emergencies of business would 
 permit. '* Capital business-man, ^Ir. Heywood, but not 
 the less impetuous a lover !" So thought Mr. Ford ; 
 but love-making lacked railroad facilities then. 
 
 Michael's arm and his daughter's ankle cTewstrons" 
 and well in time, and both pursued their avocations 
 as heretofore; but as the days wore on, and letters 
 came from Mr. Peover containlncr brief statements of
 
 HOPES AND fEAP.5. 138 
 
 progress on the works at the Grange, she was observed 
 to sit much alone, to sixjg less freel\- and frequently ; 
 at times to carol like a bird, then cease her song sud- 
 denly, and sink into idle reverie. Proofs positive to 
 all sagacious minds that her thoughts wandered to 
 "Manchester, and that the prospect of removing farther 
 from his home filled her with sadness. 
 
 About this time Mr. Peover received a letter, 
 bearing neither location, date, nor signature, if we 
 except a rude but expressive hieroglyph. It ran 
 thus : 
 
 *• The • (grange ' must not be habitable before Christ- 
 mas. I say. must not ! If it is. beware the conse- 
 quences. I do not warn twice." 
 
 The dangling figure caught the old man's eye befoi*e 
 he read the text, but as he hastily scanned the lines 
 the blood forsook his face and Kps, leaving them of 
 an ashen hue, and lie fell back in his office-chaii* 
 utterly prostrated. For some time he lay there. hei]>- 
 less and powerless, then slowly recovering his scattered 
 senses, he repenised the mysterious document on his 
 desk. *' God help me I" said he, wearily, as from 
 extreme mental anguish. '• God help me • how that
 
 134 god's providexce house. 
 
 viper stings — that viper stings ! Who shall say he 
 can sin in secret — secret ? Is not the whip I knotted 
 years ago scourging me now — scourging me now?" 
 and he writhed as though under the infliction of the 
 l^sh. " Does not every coin I touch, however honestly 
 earned, seem to blister my hands. Yet what did I 
 more than any other man in the city would have 
 done under like temptation — under hke temptation !" 
 Then after a pause, as if for deUberation, he gathered 
 up the letter, saying, " I will consult Martha, I will 
 consult Martha!" and stumbled up the uneven stairs 
 with a step very unlike his ordinary springy jerk. 
 Mrs. Peover was seated with a basket of napery by 
 her side, darning a thin place in a table-cloth, but, as 
 he staggered rather than walked into the room, she 
 rose from her w^ork, observant of his wan face, and 
 stepping forward hastily, took her husband's hand, 
 with the anxious enquiry, "Joseph, what has occurred 
 to discompose you thus ? I have not seen you so 
 as^itated for some years." 
 " Read that, read that !" 
 
 She took the letter he thrust into her hand, and 
 while he sank into a chair, leaned his arms on the 
 table and buried his face upon them, she calmly 
 wiped her gold -rimmed spectacles, re-adjusted them 
 on her nose, and read the letter which had fallen into 
 the house hke a bomb-shell — read it over twdce, took 
 off her spectacles, replaced them deliberately in their
 
 HOPES AND FEARS. 135 
 
 « 
 
 shagreen case, and having thus given herself time to 
 think, approached the stricken man, and placed her 
 hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 " Is this letter all that has terrified you so much ?" 
 
 " All ! I should think it is, and enough too, more 
 than enough !" 
 
 " I see nothing here to alarm an honest man !" 
 ^Ir. Peover winced, but she continued, "Yes, an 
 honest man ! You need not shrink. If I felt you to 
 be any other in your heart, I would disown you for 
 my husband. What you found buried was your own 
 morally, if not legally, and only a quibble destroys 
 your legal right. Did you not regard it at the time 
 as the special gift of Providence ?" 
 
 " Yes, then ; but not now — not now." 
 
 " And why not now ? Have you not given away in 
 public thrice what you found in private ? Have you not 
 been a faithful steward of the talent placed in your 
 hands ? Has not the secret store increased and 
 multiplied tenfold ? Has there not been a blessing 
 on our means? Did you ever turn the naked, the 
 cold, the hungry from your door unclothed, unwarmed, 
 unfed ?" 
 
 " Never, never ; thank God !" 
 
 " Yes ; and thank him for the means to be chari- 
 table. How often have I heard you repeat the motto 
 of this house — 'God's Providence is mine Inheri- 
 tance,' yet you quail before the idle threat of a
 
 L36 god's providence house. 
 
 reprobate ! I suppose this is one of that fellow's 
 scrawls; an intimidation to serve the purpose of some 
 of his dissolute companions !" 
 
 " I suppose so — I suppose so! But what am I to 
 do, Martha — what am I to do ?" 
 
 "Whatever is just and right! If you delay the 
 repairs of the Grange, I am convinced you will become 
 the unconscious abettor of some iniquitous scheme 
 or other. Do your work manfully, in defiance of 
 Ned's dastardly threats. It is not possible he could 
 (]o you a serious injury." 
 
 " Ah, my dear Martha ! but that is not all — not all. 
 I have had a perilous secret from you these three 
 years — these three years ;" and the old man pro- 
 ceeded to relate to this true partner of his joys and 
 sorrows, the secret he had kept so long even from 
 her." 
 
 '' This is indeed something more serious ; but as 
 in this case you have not the shadow of a stain on 
 your own conscience, why should you blench at a 
 threat like Ned's ? Fear not ! the villain will hang 
 himself, not you." 
 
 " True, Martha, true ; but circumstantial evidence 
 and false accusation will outweigh justice — will out- 
 weigh justice!" 
 
 " Yes, human justice, not Divine. Come, Joseph, 
 rouse, be more a man. What would pious John 
 Wesley say if he saw his old disciple thus sinking in
 
 HOPES AND FEARS. 137 
 
 helpless imbecility through want of faith ! He would 
 grieve over you as a backslider ! Kouse !" 
 
 And he strove to '' rouse," impelled by the stronger 
 mind of his wife, but the effort was a feeble one ; the 
 figure dangling from the cord was present to his 
 imagination, and he could not free himself from this 
 new terror. 
 
 " Joseph," said Mrs. Peover, " come with me into 
 our chamber, and let us pray ; it is for seasons like 
 this that prayer is chiefly needed. Come." 
 
 Under the influence of his wife, Mr. Peover mas- 
 tered his fears, and the work at the Grange proceeded 
 without interruption. The workmen, as the builder 
 had projected, were boated down with provisions for 
 the day, and brought back by the same conveyance 
 each evening. There was a sharp and active foreman 
 over the whole, and in about a month a great change 
 for the better was visible, alike in premises and 
 grounds. Workmen swarmed round the place like 
 bees ; hammer and sasv, chisel and mallet, trowel 
 and plummet, pick, spade, rake, hoe, and wheelbarrow, 
 were heard making a pleasant noise in reclaiming one 
 of the waste places of the earth. Men of many 
 idioms were gathered there, working with hearty 
 goodwill for a master who paid well ; men from the 
 highlands and lowlands of Scotland, from the moors 
 of Durham and Northumberland, the hills of Lanca- 
 shire and Cumberland, the fens of Lincolnshire, the
 
 138 god's providence house. 
 
 weald of Kent, the downs of Sussex, the wilds of 
 Connaught, the glens of Galway, and the mountains 
 of Wales ; all sent their quota, and sure such a Babel 
 of toncrues was seldom heard before. But the 
 purpose was answered : no one knew of the ghost, so 
 no one was deterrpd from working by any idle 
 apprehensions. The men who removed the furniture 
 from the haunted looms, and the carpenter who 
 planed down the blood-stained boards, did their work 
 first, and were then superseded by others who saw 
 nothing more than a ruinous old mansion they had 
 the good luck to be employed in restoring, and so 
 the process of restoration went on vigorously. The 
 breaches in the boundary walls were built up ; the 
 heavy iron gates swung on new hinges ; the tangled 
 mass of weeds and rubbish which defaced the garden 
 grounds were roughly cleared away, and carted to 
 help in filling the moat, from which the waters had 
 been slowly drained oft'; loosened or defective masonry 
 had been secured or replaced ; rotten window frames 
 had given place to new ; outbuildings refitted or altered ; 
 and the whole was in such a state of forw^ardness that 
 Mr. Peover wrote to acquaint the owner, and solicit 
 his presence for final instructions. 
 
 During this period, Mr. Latham had made a point 
 of joining Mr. Peover in his many inspections of the 
 Grange, betraying an interest in every barrow of mould 
 and every hod of mortar, wholly incomprehensible to
 
 HOPES AND FEARS. 139 
 
 the old man. It was no nncommon thing for him to 
 lend a hand to any man he saw at a temporary loss 
 for an assistant ; or to take up a spade, or pruning 
 knife, and work for an hour, so eager did he seem to 
 facilitate the arrival of his neighbours. Mr. Peover 
 by no means shared his impetuosity ; the letter was 
 fresh in his memory, and served as an effective check 
 to any demonstration of impatience to complete his 
 task ; and, indeed, as the weather gradually became 
 more unsettled, the days short and dark, delays often 
 occurred, not of his creating ; but these he regarded 
 Avith a complacency very foreign to his restless tem- 
 perament. 
 
 All the rumours rife in Shotwick, relative to the 
 almost marvellous transformation of the Grange, had 
 their rise in these frequent visits of George Latham, 
 for as, on his return to the lodge, he invariably ac- 
 quainted his mother with every alteration and improve- 
 ment effected ; and Madam Latham (as she was called) 
 as invariably retailed these items of news to her pretty 
 protege, Phoebe, whenever she came to pay her respects, 
 which was seldom less than thrice a week ; on these 
 occasions, ifc somehow happened, very accidentally, of 
 course, that Miles Wood, or ^Fatthew Spark, or both, 
 w^ould be loitering in the churchyard, through which 
 lay Phoebe's path homeward, and whichever became 
 the fortunate companion of her walk, became also the 
 recipient of the scraps of infoi'mation she had gathered,
 
 140 god's providence house. 
 
 garnished, it may be, with addenda and flourishes of 
 her own. A new comet to the astronomical world, a 
 new continent to the geographical, could scarcely have 
 created a greater interest than did a " new tenant " 
 for the long empty Grange ; and as none of the villagers 
 would venture near enough to observe for themselves, 
 these details of progress were greedily devoured. 
 Curiosity was not wanting — only courage, and the 
 village was in a ferment of wonder and expectation 
 when Michael Ford trotted through, accompanied by 
 Mr. Peover, and rode direct to the Grange. Before 
 they had completed the circuit of the grounds, they 
 were joined by Mr. Latham, whose frank countenance 
 brightened when Mr. Peover, shaking the young man 
 heartily by the hand, presented him to ]\[ichael, as 
 " the esteemed son of his regretted old friend, and 
 a most worthy young man — a most worthy young 
 man !" 
 
 " I have had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Latham 
 before," said Michael, acknowledging Mr. Latham's 
 salutation. " You forget, Mr. Peover, that it was to 
 his courtesy I owed my introduction to yourself" 
 
 "Oh, no, I didn't — I didn't; thought perhaps ?/o?^ 
 might have forgotten him, though !" 
 
 " Not very likely, ]\Ir. Peover, considering the name 
 he bears," responded Michael, with a very slight touch 
 of acrimony in his tone. 
 
 " Kemember the man, and forget the name ; forget
 
 HOPES AND FEARS. 141 
 
 the name if it offends ; but the name of a good man 
 cannot be a bad name, Mr. Ford ! even if bad men 
 spell theirs with the same letters ! Forget the name," 
 said Mr. Peover, abruptly. 
 
 *' I should be sorry if any personal act of my own, 
 should cause my name to grate harshly on any man's 
 ears ; least of all Mr. Ford's." 
 
 " And why so, young gentleman ; why least of all 
 on mine r" asked Michael, quickly ; turning sharply 
 round to confront him as he spoke. 
 
 A visible flush tinged his broad white forehead, as 
 he answered with some little hesitancy : " Because I 
 w^ould fain live on good terms wich my neighbours, 
 and endeavour, in my own person, to efface the evil 
 memories connected with another owner of my name." 
 
 *' Worthily spoken, Mr. Latham ; and if as worthily 
 acted out, we are likely to be good friends yet, in 
 spite of your name. Give me your hand, sir ; I hope 
 we may be better acquainted." 
 
 They had been standing in the porch during this 
 conversation, but now Michael invited Mr, Latham to 
 accompany them over the house. Pails and brushes, 
 paint-cans, and tool-baskets obstructed passages and 
 blocked up doorways, and two or three women were 
 there with tucked-up petticoats, scrubbing floors, or 
 dusting and polishing the carved panels. Mr. Peover 
 pointed out the lightness of the rooms and corridors, 
 with the encroaching ivy cut away, and, as they
 
 142 god's PROVIliEXCE HOUSE. 
 
 ascended the staircase, enquired which rooms had 
 better be completed first. 
 
 "Oh, by all means, the large drawing-room, and 
 Aihjie's chamber. I have ordered new furniture for 
 those, and hope to have a surprise for mother and 
 daughter when they come." 
 
 " I believe 1 had the pleasure of seeing your 
 daughter a few years ago ; she was a pupil at Miss 
 Briscoe's school when I was studying at Mr. Twemlow's, 
 if I remember rightly (Remember rightly I would he 
 ever forget?)." 
 
 " I have never heard my daughter name you, Mr. 
 Latham ?" said 3Iichael, half musing, half questioning. 
 
 •' Possibly not ; our acquaintance was so very slight ; 
 at church the pews of our respective schools fronted 
 each other, and so did our seats ; and long after I had 
 completed my studies, I was fortunately able to free 
 Miss Ford from insult in the street. Most likely she 
 forgot a circumstance so trivial, or did not think it 
 worth mention."' 
 
 "Very likely," said Michael, and turned away to 
 discuss paint and plaster with the builder. 
 
 '' Very likely !" with vvhat a chill these words, 
 though they were the echo of his own (as lightly 
 spoken), smote on the heart of George Latham. 
 Forgotten ; very likely ! and he had been cherishing 
 her memory for this : she had been the theme of his 
 conversation, his hopes, his plans, for this. His
 
 HOPES AXD FEARS. 143 
 
 venerable mother had been his confidant, and into 
 her willing ear he had poured out all the fluent fancies 
 of his bo}ish flame — the riper feeling of his manhood ; 
 and nmv — it was " very likely" she had forgotten him ! 
 Oh; love ! prone to self-torture ! will thy history ever 
 change ? 
 
 They had reached the chamber of Alice, and an 
 animated discussion on the colour the wainscot should 
 be painted, proceeded between the contractor and Mr. 
 Ford ; the relative merits of blue., pink, green, and 
 brown, were severally brought forward, without a 
 decision ; at length 3Ir. Ford appealed to 3Ir. Latham 
 for a verdict. 
 
 " If you consult me, gentlemen, I must say, I con- 
 sider the colours you have named are too full and 
 strong for a sleeping apartment ; a young ladv's room 
 especially. I think dove-colour more in harmony 
 with the softness of the feminine mind, more conducive 
 to quiet and repose. It might be relieved with any 
 of the tints you have named, and the draperies should 
 suit." 
 
 "A Daniel come to judgment, yea, a Daniel I" 
 quoth Mr. Peover, laughing and clapping 3Ir. Latham 
 heartily on the back, in blissful unconsciousness that 
 he had been quoting a " wicked play-actor." So dove- 
 colour it was to be, pucked out with blue, in accordance 
 with the only sensible idea on the subject. But rose- 
 coloured were the visions of George Latham, in which
 
 144 god's providence house. 
 
 he pictured Alice Ford rejDOsing within walls tinted 
 from his decision. How much of the ludicrous 
 mingles with the sentiment of young lovers, and old 
 ones, too, we fear. 
 
 Shortly after this, Mr. Latham retired, having found 
 it impossible to induce Mr. Ford to accept his hospi- 
 tality, and pass the night at Latham Lodge ; and 
 having, moreover, ascertained that the family might 
 be expected down in ten days or a fortnight. 
 
 After he was gone, the two men of business 
 wandered from " garret to basement," Michael expres- 
 sing his satisfaction with everything, especially the 
 manner in which the door of the room into which 
 the furniture was thrust, had been built up, leavmg 
 no trace of its existence on the outer wall. From the 
 house they proceeded to the outbuildings, and instruc- 
 tions were given for the execution of more extensive 
 shippons and granaries. After a few orders to the 
 foreman, the pair mounted, rode to Shotwick, par- 
 took of a hasty meal, then leisurely pursued their ride 
 homeward to Chester. 
 
 In a day or two, other bees joined the swarms at 
 the hive-like Grange, in the shape of upholsterer's 
 men, who, armed with rule and shears, hammer 
 and tacks, went to work with a pleasant rap-tap, 
 and the ugly dark floor of the ancient drawing-room 
 v;-as crimsoned over — not with blood, but brilliant 
 Brussels carpet. Above the wide expanse of window
 
 HOPES AND FEAES. 145 
 
 rich crimson damask fell in full festoons, looped up by 
 tasselled cords of amber silk, and cur.ains edged with 
 amber lace swept to the floor in soft voluminous folds. 
 Set in a gilt frame of quaint device, with branching 
 candelabra on each side, the concave disc of a polished 
 mirror gave back distorted reflections of the fire-place 
 with its fender and fire-iroDS of shining brass. Then 
 more bee-like men came lumbering in with massive 
 furniture of Spanish mahogany, ornamented with a 
 marquetry of satinwood and ebony. They brought 
 tables with smooth, round, tapering legs, terminating 
 in sprawling club-like feet ; chairs, with limbs to 
 match, and backs with massive uncarved crests, lower 
 and less painfully perpendicular than their prede- 
 cessors, with cushioned seats covered with stout black 
 leather, secured by rows of bright brass nails : sofas, 
 scarcely smaller than some modern beds, likewise 
 leather-cushioned and bedight with brass nails ; and 
 easy chairs, also shining with leather and nail dots, 
 with high, straight backs, padded arms, and side rests 
 for the head ; chairs to repose in after a day^s fatigue 
 — not lounges to induce laziness. Then they lugged 
 in a ponderous cabinet,, comprising celeret, escritoire, 
 and bookcase ; the bookcase having glazed doors like 
 church windows, curtained behind with crimson taffeta 
 (clever contrivances those silken curtains to conceal 
 scant libraries in the days of dear books) : and then 
 followed a new harpsichord for Alice, the one at Ford- 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 god's providexce house. 
 
 brook, the gift of Sir Luke to Margaret on lier 
 wedding-day, being hoarse with age, and only fit for 
 the common household room. 
 
 Next, these busy bees swarmed in the now dove- 
 coloured chamber, with hammers and tacks, and Kid- 
 derminster carpet, and j^ieces of moreen, and cards of 
 fringe, and long spindly bed-posts, not of oak or 
 walnut, but mahogany; and, presently, the floor 
 harmonised with the walls, and a temple to jMorpheus 
 arose in the midst, draped with azure and fringed 
 wdth dove, and the windows were curtained to match 
 the bed, and the toilet- table held a large swing-glass 
 in an oval frame, with drawers at its base for trinkets 
 or crlovcs, or love letters or litter, and rush-bottomed 
 chairs with painted frames were ranged round the 
 walls ; and the washstand, also of mahogany, was 
 fitted with blue-and-white toilet-ware, as shapely as 
 any Staffordshire then produced, but vv^hich our very 
 artizans to-day would despise. 
 
 And then the bees departed with hammers and 
 tacks, and remnants and snippings. And Michael 
 Ford came to survey the cheerful rooms, and with 
 him George Latham, and the twain pronounced a 
 favourable verdict on the upholsterers' doings. Mr. 
 Ford enjoyed, in anticipation, the pleasant surprise of 
 wife and daughter : and T^Ir. Latham pictured that 
 daughter moving amongst these household fittings, 
 the light and life of the v/hole. Kow he rejoiced in
 
 HOPES AND FEARS. 147 
 
 his heart over the murky November sky, and the 
 impenetrable fog that, as it were, had compelled 
 Michael Ford and Mr. Peover to accept his proffered 
 hospitality, and rest the preceding night under his 
 roof. It had brought the father of Alice in contact 
 with his mother, a woman of stately presence, yet so 
 genial and kindly withal, that the frost of distant 
 reserve was sure of thaw beneath the benign influ- 
 eDce of her sweet smile. 
 
 And so Michael had unconsciously been won to 
 feel at ease within walls owned by and named after a 
 Latham, and to accept a further invitation, given with 
 a tact, forethought, and kindliness he could neither 
 dispute nor reject. The excellent old lady, with a 
 grace and dignity beseeming a duchess, yet with as 
 true courtesy, had represented to Michael the incon- 
 venience, not to say impossibility of any accommodation 
 being provided for Mrs. and Miss Ford at the Grange, 
 until their goods arrived, were unpacked and arranged. 
 This, she urged, would be a work of days, not to be 
 undertaken by them, fresh from a fatiguing journey ; 
 and she offered the alternative of her home and a 
 cordial welcome, until their own house should be fit to 
 receive them. The ladies might go in a morning to 
 superintend arrangements, and he might escort them 
 each evening back to the Lodge if so disposed ; it was 
 not fitting that tliCy should be subjected to all the 
 discomfort attending the removal of a large establish- 
 
 l2
 
 148 god's providence house. 
 
 ment so great a distance ; and she hoped jMr. Ford 
 would honour herself and son by permitting her to be 
 of this little service to them. 
 
 How could JMichael have refused, without being 
 downright ungracious? He had been some time 
 cogitating how to dispose of Margaret and Alice for 
 the few days their household goods and kitchen 
 utensils were at sixes and sevens, and had meditated 
 lodging them at the " Black Bear ;" but this invita- 
 tion, so hos]Ditably given by a well disposed neighbour, 
 albeit a stranger, had put a new and pleasant face on 
 the question ; and so, after a little mental deliberation, 
 a little secret fighting with prejudice, he had bowed 
 his thanks and acceptance. 
 
 A sigh of relief from George Latham had echoed 
 these thanks. And as on that misty morning he trod 
 the crimson carpet, so soon to be pressed by the light 
 feet of Alice; and, by her fathers side, penetrated 
 the sanctuary of the chamber prepared for her in 
 secret by that father's love, there were no clouds on 
 life's horizon, no mists obscured love's orient sun. 
 
 A war of extermination had been waojed asfainst 
 the colonies of bats, and owls, and spiders tenanting 
 the old pile ; and fires blazed bright on hearths long 
 cold ; windows begrimed with the dust and rain of 
 years, and shrouded by rank vegetation, now let in all 
 the light the dull November sky could spare ; painters 
 and paint-cans had been superseded by petticoats and
 
 HOrES AND FEARS. 149 
 
 pails ; and thoiigh the mason-bees and carpenter-bees 
 were bard at work on the outbuildings necessary to 
 house the yeoman's stock and implements^ all within 
 and around the domicile was ready to receive its new 
 inmates, or would be in a day or two. 
 
 Michael had waited for this ; so now he shook 
 hands with Mr. Latham at the griffin-guarded gate, 
 and rode away home, to prepare for the weighty busi- 
 ness of removal ; bearing with him Mrs. Latham's 
 invitation, repeated at his departure by her son. 
 
 " Well, mother," said George Latham on his return 
 to the Lodge, '*" has not everything gone on bravely ? 
 Only think, in spite of his known antipathies, Mr. 
 Ford has slept beneath our roof, and, more than all, 
 promised to bring Alice hither. Alice, dear Alice !" 
 The latter ejaculation was addressed to no one in par- 
 ticular, and spoken in a sort of dreamy ecstacy, as he 
 nursed one leg across the other, clasping with both 
 hands the upper knee, swaying gently backwards 
 and forwards on his chair the while, and gazed 
 intently into the clear red fire, glowing like his own 
 heart. 
 
 Accustomed to these moods, the fine old lady con- 
 tinued her spinning — not then a menial employment 
 — in silence ; the monotonous hum of the polished 
 wheel not breaking the stillness, but drowsily filling 
 the ear of the musing man. For some time he sat 
 thus ; then starting to his feet abruptly, paced the
 
 150 god's puovidexce house. 
 
 wide room from side to side, talking all the while in 
 the exuberance of young hope. "I shall bless a 
 November fog for ever, since it brought her father 
 here !" (The pronoun referred to a noun understood if 
 not expressed.) " And I may bless you, dear mother, 
 for your womanly tact in offering a comfortable refuge 
 to the ladies at such a juncture. Nothing could have 
 been better. lie could not refuse." 
 
 *' I did no more than my duty, my son. I must 
 own, too, that I lost sight for a while of your possible 
 wishes, and acted solely on the inspiration of the 
 moment, feeling the unpleasantness and discomfort 
 inseparable from such a change of home, and chatties 
 s'quandered. I never myself witnessed such a removal, 
 and hope I never may. From the dear old house in 
 which my father was born, and since died, I married 
 and came hither, to another ancestral home, prepared 
 to receive me, the bride, more than forty years ago. 
 Still, I can imagine the misery of an entrance into a 
 strange empty house (with an ill name), in a strange 
 neighbourhood, with food to buy or unload, chairs, 
 tables, beds, linen, in fact every useful or essential 
 thing far out of reach ; and so, w^ith this picture 
 before my mind, common decency prompted the 
 invitation, not any thought of my love-sick son." 
 
 " Say, rather, some good angel i^rompted you. Do 
 you not see that this not only renews my acquaintance 
 with dear Alice, but establishes one with the whole
 
 HOPES AND FEARS. 151 
 
 family ! Oh, mother, I do thank you !" and he 
 turned towards her as he spoke, with clasped hands, 
 and his handsome face beaming with delight. '• You 
 may well call me love-sick," continued he, '* I know 
 I am, and you, my only confidant, know it too. Kind 
 friend, true counsellor, patient listener, my confidence 
 in you has been the safety-valve which has kept my 
 heart from bursting these two dreary vears ; and now, 
 in the renew^ed hope of meeting once more the girl I 
 have loved so long; meeting her openly, with her 
 father's knowledge, I own I am elated beyond control." 
 A mournful expression stole over the old lady's face 
 as she watched the sanguine lover pace the room with 
 light quick steps, and thought how terrible to him 
 would be a sudden disappointment, and how unlikely 
 it was the schoolgirl should retain the loving memories 
 stamped so indelibly on the elder mind of the young 
 man. 
 
 " George," said she, after a long pause, '* how old 
 was Miss Ford when she left Chester?" 
 " About sixteen, mother." 
 " And how long had you known her ?" 
 '' Not more than a year to speak to her; but I had 
 watched her every Simday for the twelve months 
 before I left ]\Ir. Twemlow's, when she was but a 
 child, and I not seventeen. But you know all this, 
 my dear mother, why ask these questions ?" 
 
 " Sit down, my son, and 1 will tell you. I sought
 
 152 god's providexce house 
 
 to recall to your mind how very young and inexperi- 
 enced Miss Ford must have been when you saw her 
 last ; how very young when first you met ; and how 
 possible (I do not say probable) it is that her girlish 
 fancy may have faded or changed. It is possible, too, 
 that another suitor, living nearer, seeing her fre- 
 quently, may have effaced the memory of her school- 
 day attachment, and I would prepare you for such a 
 contingency." 
 
 Every particle of colour gradually faded from 
 George Latham's face as his mother proceeded ; and 
 he sat there with white lips, rigid and pulseless, as 
 the dread picture of the iwsBible^ nay, probable, was 
 placed before him. In all his dreams no thought of 
 change had come ; and now, like the leaden hand of 
 Fate, it crushed him. But not for long ; faith and 
 hope uprose again, and the icy terror melted in the 
 sunshine. Again he rose, and paced the room with 
 quick impatient strides, giving his varying thoughts* 
 impetuous utterance. 
 
 *' I dare not think this, mother, it would kill me ! 
 I may have been a fool to trust my life on so frail a 
 thread as a schoolgirl's constancy ; but young as 
 Alice was, her character was formed, decision sat on 
 lip and brow, and truth undimmed shone in her clear 
 brown eye. I know she loved me then^ and I will 
 trust she loves me now." 
 
 " Had she ever told you so ?"
 
 HOPES AXD FEARS. 153 
 
 *' Never in words : but look, and tone, and blush ; 
 joy at meeting, sorrow at parting, timorous trust, all, 
 all spoke eloquently the girl's unschooled affection ! 
 I could not bind her by a promise ; every principle of 
 integrity forbade it. If we met in secret it was the 
 secret of circumstance, not connivaDce. Unknown to 
 her father, without his sanction, I could not have led 
 so young and trusting a girl into an engagement! 
 But that she loved me, I never had a doubt till now, 
 and now — the bare suggestion wrings my heart 1 I 
 will not think of it !" and he once more resumed his 
 seat, and looked into the fire with painful thought 
 in every curve of his weary looking face. 
 
 As he sat down, the old lady arose and came for- 
 ward, her black velvet train sweeping ifter her as she 
 moved. Laying one hand on his shoulder lightly, 
 she bent down, until the smooth bands of her silvery 
 hair rested against his jetty curls, now disordered by 
 the impatient hand that had swept them back from 
 his throbbing temples. " George," said she, calmly, 
 yet soothingly, " you are too impulsive, too apt to let 
 your heart outrun your head ; you are elated without 
 reason — are depressed by shadows 1 If you acted 
 from reason and principle two years ago, how is it 
 that after these two years' trial to discipline your heart, 
 a word of reason affrights you now ? In all this time, 
 in your numberless conversations wiih me, you have 
 spoken of Miss Ford as a something almost unattain-
 
 154 GOIJ'S PROVIDEXCE HOUSE. 
 
 able, only to be won by the uprooting of family pre- 
 judices, and I ever thought hopelessness lay at the 
 root of your plans to win her, and that in time the 
 fire would die out for want of fuel. I grieve to tind 
 I am mistaken — that the reason and good sense on 
 which I depended have been only of the head, and at 
 variance with the heart. Is it possible that I have 
 held the key only to half your heart, and the rest is 
 locked and barred. ?" 
 
 " JMother, I have withheld nothing from you. I did 
 regard my love as something hopeless ; I felt distance, 
 isolation, my name and lineage, all were barriers to my 
 very approach, and I strove against my hopes. Sud- 
 denly these barriers were thrown down, as if by 
 magic, and my heart leaped with delight at the new 
 prospect. In the midst of my joy, you thrust before 
 me the frozen image of a cold love, the only cruel 
 possibility I had never contemplated, and you saw 
 the revulsion !" 
 
 *'Yes, but I spoke only of the possihiVty. A 
 woman's memory is as tenacious as man's. I sought 
 to guard you against illusive hopes — not to affright 
 with chimerical fears. Let us hope for the better. If 
 Miss Ford be all you say — as good and true as she is 
 beautiful — and worth the winning, I wish you ' God 
 speed' with all my heart, and bid you remember 
 ' There is a Providence that shapes our ends, rough- 
 hew them how we may.' "
 
 HOPES AND FEARS. 155 
 
 " Well, we shall see ; impulsive I may be, but not 
 volatile — love-sick I may be, but not imbecile — fear- 
 ful, but not unjust ; and I will trust my clear-eyed 
 Alice till I learn my fate from lier own lips." 
 
 "That is as it should be. Conduct me to the 
 .dining-room, my son, the dinner-bell rings,"'
 
 156 god's providence house. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OLD HEARTHS AND YOUNG HEARTS 
 
 With his last ride from Chester fresh in his mind, it 
 is not to be wondered that Michael hurried through 
 his dinner at the Blue Posts, and having carefully 
 examined his pistols and Tony's shoes before starting, 
 rode on at a good round pace, neither stopping at 
 inn nor hostel till Delamere Forest was left behind, 
 and himself safe at the door of the Blue Cap, Sandi- 
 way. Here, without dismounting, he called for a glass 
 of the famous Hollands he had tasted there some 
 weeks before. The woman who came to the door, in 
 evident trepidation, denied their possession of such 
 liquor, but Michael, knowing the contrary, persisted 
 in his demand. Hearing a dispute, the landlord came 
 forward, and after a close examination of the horse- 
 man, whispered to her, " He's one o' Mester Yawood's 
 friends ; you needn't be afeart !" and aloud, *' I think 
 you be the gentleman as Mester Yawood brought here 
 a' blood an' dust t'other week ; here, sir, is the Uquor ;
 
 OLD HEARTHS AND YOUNG HEARTS, 157 
 
 we dar'na bring it otit for all the folks as come, as it's 
 not exactly down in a'r loicence ; but anny friend o' 
 Mr. Ya wood's is welcome to ought 'i th' house.'* 
 
 " Thank you," said Michael, diluting the spirits 
 with water ; " I belieye Mr. Hey wood to be one of my 
 very good friends, and, it appears, a very useful one 
 too. Good afternoon," and he returned the empty 
 glass to the man with payment for his draught. 
 
 "There is really something very peculiar and win- 
 ning about Mr. Heywood," said he to himself, as he 
 rode away ; " every one seems to like him. He is a 
 favourite in the commercial room at the Blue Posts ; 
 the upholsterer, on his mere introduction, took my 
 large order, and executed it Vi^ithout asking bond, or 
 reference, or advance ; all the people at the farm are 
 captivated with him ; and even this rude publican is 
 willing to put himself in jeopardy only to serve one of 
 i\Ir. Hey wood's friends. So, no wonder that I, v<rhom 
 he has served so well, should admire and esteem him. 
 A Ciipital match it will be for our Alice — not on the 
 score of money altogether (for I dare say we could 
 reckon guinea for guinea) ; but I can see he is a man 
 of principle and feeling, amiable and obliging, over 
 head and ears in love with the girl, and an extra- 
 ordinary man of business. A little too dressy, per- 
 haps ; but then he is not a country gentleman. He 
 must be very inflammable, for he took fire at first sight 
 of Alice : and of her being in love, there cannot be a
 
 158 god's rEOVIDEXCE HOUSE. 
 
 question." (Right there, Mr. Ford : the question is 
 not, is she in love, but with Avhom ?) '•' Very honourable 
 of him to speak to me first, very honourable and very 
 respectful. I'd kick any man out of my house who 
 dared to make love to my daughter without asking my 
 consent !" (Were you consultod/rs^, sapient Mr. Ford ?) 
 ''I wish he had not tied me down to ask zVilsie no ques- 
 tions. Twenty times a day it's on the tip of my 
 tongue to ask the girl what she thinks of hitn, and to 
 set her mind at rest about my knowledge of the case, 
 and my approval. Perhaps it's as well after all, for if 
 he has not yet made a positive declaration to her, she 
 would not be over well pleased at being consulted last, 
 whatever her love might be. However, I've made the 
 promise, and I suppose must keep it. I hope he will 
 release me before long, for I cannot endure to see the 
 dear child moping as she does. I wonder if Hey- 
 wood will come down before December fair? AVe 
 shall be gone before then. I'd ride over to Manchester 
 and give him an agreeable surprise, if I had not so 
 much business on hand. Now, Tony," said he, aloud, 
 '' splash through the brook ; — here we are at the gate, 
 Dickl Dick!" 
 
 Many breaks and pauses had occurred in the course 
 of this soliloquy : there had been nods and brief salu- 
 tations to people on the road ; but with all these gap.i 
 it had filled his mind from San di way to Ford brook. 
 
 And now Dick came, and wife and daughter, and
 
 OLD hp:artiis and youxg hearts. 159 
 
 there was much kissing and much questioning, and 
 refreshing tea for the traveller when the welcomes 
 were over. 
 
 " Who do you think has been here while you were 
 away, Michael ?" asked his wife, after a while. 
 
 *' Brad well, I suppose, to see about the lease and 
 hurry us off?"' 
 
 " Oh yes, he has been here once or twice, but I 
 don't mean him. What do you say to ^Ir. Hey- 
 wood ?" 
 
 *' Mr. Heyivood, indeed! and has he been here? 
 I was thinking of him as I came along. And what 
 has he got to say, Ailsie ?" 
 
 " Nothing more than usual," 'replied she, colouring 
 to the roots of her hair from a variety of conflicting 
 emotions, little comprehended by the observers; and 
 her father, compassionating her seemingly timid con- 
 fusion, did not press the subject. 
 
 " When did Mr. Ileywood come, Margaret ? and 
 how long did he remain ?" 
 
 " He came yesterday morning, and >vent away in 
 the evening. I could not prevail upon him to stay ; 
 he said he Lad just returned from a lor:g journey, 
 and could not resist the impulse to ride over and seo 
 us." 
 
 " Pretty strong impulse that which brings a hand- 
 some, dashing young fellow more than twenty miles to 
 spend a day at a farmhouse, eh, Ailsie?"'
 
 160 god's providence house. 
 
 " Young, father ! why Mr. Heywood is thirty, or 
 more. I dont call Mm young !" said she, evading the 
 question. " He may be handsome and dashing both, 
 is good-looking enough, but handsome is that hand- 
 some does !" continued she, somewhat scornfully. 
 
 " Heyday, Miss Alice, what has Mr. Heywood done 
 that is not handsome ? I think his conduct towards 
 me has been handsome in the extreme, and to j^ou 
 also. Ah, well, I see he has offended your ladyship 
 by riding off again in such a hurry ! Ne-ver mind — 
 girl — he's none the worse for minding his business. 
 I only like him the better for it. Idleness is the 
 root of all evil. Give me the man tliat will stick to 
 his business for a son-in-law, l^efore any fine gentle- 
 man too proud to work. Labour ennobles the man — 
 not lands, nor titles!" said Michael, emphatically. 
 " Alice, go and bring my pipe and tobacco out of the 
 kitchen, and Toby Fillpot at the same time," con- 
 tinued he, in a different tone ; and Alice, glad of an 
 opportunity to escape from the room, obeyed with 
 alacrity. 
 
 " Margaret," asked he, as soon as the door -was 
 closed, " what has occurred between Alice and Mr. 
 Heywood ? You don't think they've had a quarrel 
 already, do you ?"' 
 
 " No, I should think not. I saw no difference in 
 her until you spoke of his coming here for the day." 
 
 " Ah, young girls are never satisfied ! Here, a fine
 
 OLD HEARTHS AND YOUNG HEARTS. 161 
 
 fellow leaves his business, and wastes a couple of days 
 that he may spend one with her, and she becomes 
 pettish because he does not waste a week, I suppose. 
 Ah well ! he'll make ifc all right when he comes 
 down to the Grange. What do you think, Margaret ?" 
 " I have not thought much about it, but no doubt 
 your view of the matter is the right one. You know 
 Alice is very different to me, and I cannot judge her 
 moods from my own." 
 
 " That indeed she is, my quiet amiable little mouse. 
 I don't think you ever showed signs of pettishness or 
 wilfulness, however much I tried you ;" and the hus- 
 band drew his wife towards him, and kissed her with 
 a tenderness which told his appreciation of the mild- 
 ness and self-abnegation of her character. 
 
 " Peggy, take a pipe to my father, and the tobacco- 
 box, and give me Toby Fillpot, I will draw the ale." 
 
 Toby Fillpot, be it understood, was the name of a 
 jug then in very general use, • representing a hollow 
 old gentleman of rotund proportions, with curly wig 
 and three-cornered hat, a pipe in one hand and mug 
 of frothing ale in the other, sometimes manufactured 
 of earthenware, coloured to life (crockery life), some- 
 times as that was, of brown and buffstone-ware, and 
 his capacity was about a pint ; but Toby Fillpots 
 varied in size, and this was decidedly a juvenile 
 Toby. 
 
 " Yo'r sweetheart's thinking on you, miss," said 
 
 VOL. T. M
 
 162 god's pkovidexce house. 
 
 Peggy, as Alice returned with the foamiug ale, " yo'r 
 apron's come untied, yo'll stumble o'er it if yo' dunna 
 mind." 
 
 *' Is he, Peggy ? I should like to know the indi- 
 vidual. I have to find my sweetheart yet." 
 
 " Oi think oi could foind him for yo, Miss Ailce ; at 
 least oi could guess at his name without a yeap o' 
 trouble, an oi think i/a tvood na ha' much," and the 
 girl chuckled at her own feeble attempt at wit. 
 " But he looked in a peck o' trouble last uight afore 
 he w^ent : he looked as if he thought sorely too much 
 on yo' for his comfort. Oi felt quite sorry for him 
 loike. Oi could na ha sarved Deack as yo're sarving 
 him, oi'm sure ; an' Deack's nought but a country 
 lad." 
 
 " Peggy, you mean well, I dare say, but your 
 tongue outruns your discretion ; in future, set a watch 
 on your own words, but do not attempt to watch 
 either my movements or those of my father's guests." 
 So sapng she swept from the kitchen w^ith as much 
 offended dignity as the ofiSce of waitress permitted, 
 leaving Peggy to digest the rebuke as best she might. 
 
 She found her father and mother discussing the 
 preparations necessary for their immediate removal, 
 in the course of which the latter remarked, " It will 
 be very uncomfortable for us at first. Don't you 
 think we had better stay in Northwich a day, or in 
 Chester, for the w^aggons will be longer on the road
 
 OLD HEARTHS AND YOUNG HEARTS. 163 
 
 than we shall. It would be so very awkward to alight 
 at the Grange, and not have a chair to sit on." 
 
 " Oh dear, I forgot, that reminds me I have an 
 invitation for all three of us down there." 
 
 '' An invitation, father, from whom ?" said Alice, 
 starting forward — then as involuntarily shrinking out 
 of observation behind Michael's chair, as one name 
 flashed across her mind. 
 
 Well, child, from a most unlikely quarter. Mar- 
 garet, I spent one night at Latham Lodge ; and Mrs. 
 Latham, a stately old lady, most courteously and cor- 
 dially invited us all there, until the Grange was put 
 into order. I thought it very kind of her, considering 
 the old feud between the families; and accepted it, 
 for ] don't wish to bear malice against those who 
 have themselves done no wrong ; any more than I 
 would shut up the old house, because the bricks and 
 boards could not prevent a crime. Why don't either 
 of you speak ? Does not the arrangement suit you ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, Michael, I dare say it is a good arrange- 
 ment ; but, but " 
 
 ** But what ? How you hesitate. Shall I write 
 and decline?" 
 
 " Oh, dear, no ; only I was startled, Michael, I 
 own, to think we should rest in the house of a 
 Latham before our own. But you are always right, 
 dear husband ; and I dare say it was very silly of me. 
 What is your opinion, Alice :" 
 
 M 2
 
 164 GOD 3 PROVIDENCE HOUSE. 
 
 '• Oh," replied Alice, with a strong effort to conceal 
 her too visible satisfaction, ''' I think the arrangement 
 admirable. The prospect of sitting down on a floor 
 in the empty Grange, or on our pillions waiting dis- 
 consolately for our baggage-waggons, has haunted me 
 more than the Grey Lady is likely to do. I am sure 
 I am verv much obligred to Mrs. Latham for removino: 
 so dreadful a contingency ; and will drop her my very 
 best curtsey for her sensible proposal." 
 
 '• Well, go to bed now, child, and to-morrow be up 
 with the lark, there is much to be done. Good 
 night." 
 
 " Good-night, father ; good-night, mother ;" and 
 having kissed them both she turned away with a 
 lighter heart than she had felt for some time." 
 
 " Oh, by the bye, Alice," said Michael abruptly, 
 as she stood in the doorway, "young Mr. Latham 
 said he knew you, or had seen you, or something of 
 the kind." 
 
 " Did he ?" gasped she, without turning round. 
 *' Yes, I believe I have seen him once or tw4ce." 
 
 *' Ah, I thought you had not much remembrance of 
 him. Good-night, love." 
 
 '' Good-night !" again, and she was gone to the 
 blissful solitude of her own room, and had locked 
 herself in to secure herself from possible intrusion. 
 Ah, conscious heart, when was the privacy of that 
 room invaded ?"
 
 OLD HEARTHS AND YOUXG HEAliTS. 165 
 
 Who in the flushed, and panting, and excited girl. 
 who closed the door of her chamber in the tannel- 
 like passage, would have recognised the cold and 
 decided woman who had repulsed Mr. Heywood's 
 advances the day before ? 
 
 She sat down, clasped her white hands in a sort of 
 ecstacy, rose suddenly, paced the room, sat down 
 again, rose again, and then after two or three turns 
 round the room, threw herself on her knees with her 
 face on a chair, and sobbed her excitement down. 
 Her mind was in a complete whirl : the qaiet current 
 of her life had been suddenly disturbed ; pebbles, 
 small in themselves, thrown into the stream had 
 ruffled the surface with concentric circles, now meeting 
 and blending in confusing lines ; but sunshine lit the 
 waters, and they danced in the wann beam. ' A 
 phantasmagoria of events and contingencies played 
 fitfully before her dazzled senses. Mr. He3rwood's 
 advent and passionate proposals, her father's promi- 
 nent sanction of his suit, her debt of gratitude, her 
 strong antipathies, the dread of her father's dis- 
 pleasure, her own secret, the attachment she dared not 
 reveal, the breakdown of her sire's old prejudices, the 
 hojDe of meeting ; the fear of meeting, for would not 
 conscious faces tell all, too soon for safety? but oh, 
 the bliss of meeting, by his mother's wish, and some- 
 thing whispered — by his also. 
 
 Long after sleep had sealed every other eyelid in
 
 =7" ? ?^"r - T r S!?C3. SITIia. 
 
 -r^x zn. 
 
 IfeBCTT *T 
 
 -Pi: 
 
 ST 
 
 3!irp?*=!«r. «L*^ iflf* 
 
 :&e 
 
 i£Life
 
 xir '?Ta:j.'!f'4H> An ticj^ WF'fxim. 1^ 
 
 w^ unaus 'SSLU 
 
 isel flf idle ^lEit : "lirT ^z " 
 
 31 L 
 
 an <gHfTi r< ~ix 
 
 fri- ^ iiiJ 
 
 =te 
 
 
 *?
 
 168 god's providence house. 
 
 known prejudices barred communion with him, on 
 the one sole topic ever uppermost in her thought ; 
 and even if her honest frankness might have induced 
 Alice to burden her mother with the weight of her 
 secret, dread of consequences sealed her lips, for Mrs. 
 Ford could not have retained it many days. She had 
 no secrets from her husband, few opinions he did not 
 frame or fashion, could not have thought with, or for 
 her daughter apart from him ; and so it was that 
 Alice, whilst feeling that silence was dishonesty, and 
 yearning for the loving sympathy she dared not 
 claim, lest confession should thrust the newer but not 
 weaker love out of her reach for ever, sat in darkness 
 and silence, nursing in alternations of mood her secret 
 of love, and fear, and hope. 
 
 "Up with the lark," however, was Alice next 
 morning, with a carol as light and blithe, or rather 
 up before the lark, for daylight is tardy in November, 
 and that month was far advanced ; but up Alice was 
 by candle-light, stripping hangings from beds and 
 windows, folding and packing linen and draperies, 
 emptying closets, and stowing their contents in chests 
 and boxes, packing glass and china in wiskets and 
 hampers with sweetly-scented hay, flitting here and 
 there like a fairy, one of the housewifely fairies of 
 olden time. 
 
 Michael might not have hurried away from Ford- 
 brook so fast, but Mr. Bradwell, the in-coming tenant.
 
 OLD HEARTHS AND YOUNG HEARTS. 169 
 
 was anxious to enter without delay, for agricultural 
 reasons, and the same motives might operate in a 
 measure with the former. 
 
 All that could have been in readiness on the farm 
 was ready when Mr. Ford returned home, and in a 
 few days the interior was stripped and bare, filled 
 with packages of all sorts and sizes ; hay and straw 
 littered the once neat rooms, dust lay in closets and 
 corners, on shelves, and floors, and staircases, save 
 where muddy footmarks had trampled out the dust 
 with an intricate patterning of hob-nails, and clogs, 
 and patten-rings, and large heavy-soled boots, and 
 toe-and-heel impression of a small light step, coming 
 and going hither and thither up the stairs, along 
 passages, across the rooms, one mark obliterating 
 another, until dirt disguised the floors, leaving no 
 trace of the remarkable neatness and cleanliness 
 which had, as it were, embalmed the house for years 
 on years. 
 
 Sadly Margaret contemplated the disorder and 
 bustle attending the breaking up of old associations ; 
 every rude step trampling over the once white boards 
 seemed trampling on her heart; her quietness sank 
 almost into melancholy. Surveying the discomfort 
 and confusion of her long-orderly home, she could not 
 realize that the change was for the better. It was 
 change, and change to her was revolution. The days 
 and weeks had hitherto gone by in a calm round of
 
 170 god's provide xce house. 
 
 wifely and domestic duties, the routine unbroken save 
 by the little incidents which made, in fact, part of the 
 routine : she had not even changed a woman servant 
 for many years ; the hirings were to her of little note, 
 for Peggy and Betty had grown to womanhood in 
 her service, and her other assistants were generally 
 wives of the hinds born on their lands ; and now all 
 was change, nothing but change. Even Peggy's 
 frequent iteration and reiteration of the astounding 
 information that her " feet itched till she couldn't 
 abide, a sure sign she was goin' to tread on strange 
 ground, an' her left eye itched and she was sure to 
 cry," struck her, not with a sense of the ludicrous, 
 but an inclination to join in the probable " cry," as 
 she felt how " strange " to her would be tlie Grange, 
 without the cousin she had known there. Not being 
 demonstrative, she said nothing of what she felt on 
 the rending of old ties ; it was only perceptible in the 
 increased gravity and quietness of her demeanour 
 amidst the general bustle, and contrasted with the 
 blithe tones and activity of her well pleased daughter. 
 But Michael saw it, and was glad when the carts and 
 waggons were loaded with their household stuff, hay 
 and provender for the horses, and ready to de- 
 part. 
 
 Betty and another woman rode on boxes under the 
 tilt of the foremost waggon, the former having in 
 charge a mysterious basket confided to her by Peggy,
 
 OLD HEARTHS AND YOUXG -HEARTS. 171 
 
 ■who ran after the receding vehicle, screaming out, 
 " Dunna yo' forget to carry th' basket into th' house, 
 an' empty it afore a cord's loosed or a straw carried 
 in, or there'll come no luck to th' Grange ! Now 
 moind and dunna forget ;" and she cast an old shoe 
 after the party for " luck." 
 
 An escort of three or four labourers accompanied 
 the carts, partly for protection on the road, partly to 
 assist in unloading at their journey's end. And soon 
 Dick brought round to the trellised porch two horses 
 with side-saddles for Mrs. Ford and Alice, and a stout 
 brown mare saddled for himself, with a pillion behind 
 for Peggy. Tears, the first she had shed for many 
 years, rolled down the gentle matron's cheek, as she 
 kissed and embraced her husband again and again, 
 bidding him farewell as though she were loath to de- 
 part, while Michael tenderly tried to soothe her, chid- 
 ing her gently for her " foolish fears," under the im- 
 pression that dread of the journey, or grief at leaving 
 him behind in the dismantled house, caused her tears. 
 Not the first time by any means that his penetration 
 had been at fault. 
 
 Alice kissed him pleasantly and cheerfully, adjust- 
 ing her riding-dress, and, bidding Peggy, who was sob- 
 bing for companionship, "Be quiet, and let Dick place 
 her on the pillion without any nonsense," — was the 
 first to turn from the old homestead, though there she 
 had been born, and ride through the gate ; there was
 
 172 god's PROVIDE^rCE HOUSE. 
 
 a meeting in perspective for her before wliich old 
 associations paled and faded. 
 
 In accordance with previous arrangements, Michael 
 had written to acquaint Mrs. Latham with the probable 
 day she might expect Mrs. and Miss Ford, and also with 
 a slight change in his plans, the necessity for his own 
 stay at Fordbrook, until the return of carts and 
 carters should enable him to remove such of his im- 
 plements, live stock, grain, hay, &c., as he had not 
 disposed of to the new tenant, thanking her also very 
 graciously for her timely and thoughtful hospitality. 
 He likewise said, he thought it necessary to send two of 
 his men servants with them for protection across Dela- 
 mere Forest, but one would quit them at Tarvin and 
 return, the other leave his wife and daughter at the 
 lodge, and pass on with the maid to the Grange, not 
 remain to encroach on her great kindness. 
 
 To every one but Margaret this arrangement gave 
 entire satisfaction ; she, so long accustomed to the 
 presence of her husband, to think and act for her, felt 
 how utterly incompetent she should be to direct and 
 arrange matters at ^their new residence without him ; 
 but she heard the letter read with an acquiescent sigh, 
 and a hope that Alice would be able to decide on the 
 proper disposition of furniture, or servants' rooms, with 
 other matters of like importance, or non-importance. 
 To Alice it gave the assurance of meeting George 
 Latham for the first time after their long separation.
 
 OLD HEARTHS AND YOUNG HEARTS. 173 
 
 without the embarrassment of her father's presence, and 
 once more within the week she felt that absence a 
 rehef. 
 
 But to George Latham the missive gave delight 
 unspeakable. He had shared her dread of meeting 
 under her father's eye ; there w^ould not be the same 
 embargo on his speech or looks, unless jMrs. Ford 
 should be shrewd and keen, and nothing which had 
 dropped from Alice had ever led him to that conclusion. 
 It would only be common courtesy to ride to Chester 
 and meet them. Mr. Peover would know the inn 
 Mr. Ford put up at ; or, failing that, he would post on 
 and meet them on the Tarvin road. Did not his 
 mother think it a capital plan ? His mother thought 
 that her son's eye looked brighter than it had done 
 since the day she damped his fervid hopes with the 
 prudential suggestions of age, and smilingly told him 
 so ; assuring him he could not well do less than join 
 the ladies and escort them home. It would be an 
 assurance of welcome. 
 
 How much more fastidious in his attire was 
 George Latham on that frosty morning, December the 
 second, 1790, than he had been for many, many 
 months ! How^ many shirts were examined and re- 
 lectcd before the one was found with frills to his 
 mind ! More than one neckcloth was cast aside, before 
 the folds lay rightly, or the lace-trimmed ends fell in 
 desirable folds. The buckskin ridingf-breeches had to
 
 174 god's providexce house. 
 
 be spotless, and after he had buttoned them at the 
 knees, he tied and untied the bunches of ribbon above 
 and below the buttons more than once before the bows 
 satisfied him. His vest was short in the waist and of 
 sober hue, and, together with his dark blue large- 
 collared coat, with very long sparrow -tails - an inno- 
 vation of the young bucks on the wide-skirted garment 
 in general use — proved that, if not quite such a beau as 
 Mr. Heywood, the young squire had an eye to fashion, 
 though he might not follow its extreme vagaries. 
 Thus he wore the general top-boots, not the exclusive 
 riding-boot pointed on the calf like a Hessian boot, 
 wrong side before — and his top-boots that morning 
 were a special trouble to his man Tom, who declared 
 he '' didn't know what had gotten measter, he wur so 
 uncommon hard to please." How much more care- 
 fully he brushed and trimmed his night-black curls 
 (for he wore no fashionable wig to disfigure him), and 
 placed his wide-brimmed hat, with buckle and broad 
 band, upon the glossy curls, than was at all requisite ! 
 The long ride, at the pace his heart kept, and, con- 
 sequently, his horse, soon shook hat and curls from 
 their jaunty position, though that did not at ail inter- 
 fere with his good looks. 
 
 Whatever he might think of himself as he gave the 
 final touch to his cravat and ruffles, his mother watched 
 him down the drive with a consciousness that he was 
 as fine, manly, and handsome a young fellow as any
 
 OLD HEARTS AND YOUNG HEARTS. 175 
 
 Miss Ford was likely to meet^ either in Chester, North- 
 \vich, or elsewhere. 
 
 He had been in such haste, that, when he reached 
 the Blue Posts, there were no signs of the travellers, 
 so he took the road Michael had travelled recently, 
 seeing neither the rows, nor the houses, nor the East- 
 gate, but in the far-off distance the chestnut hair, 
 brown eyes, straight nose, round chin, and broad fore- 
 head of the girl of sixteen he knew two years before ; 
 and conned over in his mind how to address her 
 when they met, and her probable reply. 
 
 The Eastgate had been left behind a mile, when he 
 descried in the actual distance a 23arty of travellers, 
 whom he judged, from their numbers, to be those he 
 sought : the keen frosty air had braced his nerves and 
 quickened his pulse, but the sight of the nearing 
 horsewomen caused his heart to beat with a wildness 
 which owed nothing to the atmosphere. 
 
 To Alice, who had never seen him but on foot, to 
 whom his very garb was new, who deemed him miles 
 away awaiting her, the approach of the advancing 
 horseman signified nothing ; she w^as pre -occupied 
 thinking of him, picturing their meeting at the portals 
 of Latham Lodge, when he raised his hat and spoke 
 — spoke to the mother first, for he dared not trust his 
 trembling lips to accost Alice, and felt it as he rode 
 up : and well for her that he did ; his voice and 
 features were not changed, and the rapid recognition
 
 176 god's providence house. 
 
 chased the blood from her cheeks and lips, only to 
 rush back with double force and make her sick and 
 dizzy. But, in such emergencies, woman recovers 
 her presence of mind quickly, and so did Alice ; and 
 when, after his self-introduction to Mrs. Ford, and a 
 commonplace salutation, he turned to her — she had 
 regained her composure. 
 
 Leaning forward from his saddle, he extended his 
 hand and said, audibly, " Miss Ford, I have much 
 pleasure in renewing our brief acquaintance, and 
 hope I see you well ;" but his deep blue eyes looked 
 into hers, and their language was, '' I trust you love 
 me still." 
 
 And, as she laid her trembling palm in his, and 
 " thanked him, and was quite well," her eyes replied, 
 in language quite as legible, " I do." 
 
 Then he turned his horse's head, and, taking a 
 position between mother and daughter, explained 
 that Mrs. Latham had thought it desirable he should 
 ride forward, to render what assistance he could as 
 escort and guide. 
 
 "Had Mr. Ford accompanied you, I should not 
 have presumed to intrude, but the letter he favoured 
 us with gave me reason to think I might be of some 
 little service ; may I hope that ray presence is not 
 unacceptable ?" 
 
 ''I am sure, Mr. Latham, I am quite grateful to 
 you; I am not much used to travelling; have not
 
 OLD HEARTHS AND YOUXG IIEAEiTS. 177 
 
 gone five miles from home without my husband since 
 I was married, nor before that without my Uncle 
 Luke, so that I have felt quite timorous during this 
 journey. I felt as if a high\vayman lurked behind 
 every tree skirting the road in Delamere Forest, and 
 your presence is quite reassuring." 
 
 " I am delighted to hear it. And Miss Ford, 1 
 trust I am not intruding upon her?" 
 
 *• Certainly not, quite the reverse ;" commonplace 
 question and commonplace answer ; but the effort to 
 utter them, and the searching glances of the blue 
 eyes, the timid, downcast looks of the brown orbs, 
 conveyed meanings not found in the words, and the 
 two hearts rightly interpreted their utterances. 
 
 " At the Blue Posts, George assisted the ladies 
 to dismount ; and, as ho lifted Alice from her horse, 
 unobserved by the bystanders, he held her to his 
 breast for a sinsjle instant with an involuntary pressure 
 she long remembered. There they remained for rest 
 and refreshment about an hour, when the horses were 
 brought round and the journey was resumed. As 
 they rode under the ominously frowning Northgate, 
 Mrs. Ford remarked to Mr. Latham, "I never see 
 or think of that gate without a shudder. Uncle 
 Luke used to dilate or the horrors of its dungeons, 
 and the atrocities committed there, until I was quite 
 appalled ; and it is in* use as a prison still, I 
 believe T' 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Latham, " and is still as terrible to 
 contemplate." 
 
 " It grieves me to think there are criminals deserving 
 such captivity, and judges and juries capable of con- 
 deming them to it," added Mrs. Ford compassionately. 
 
 Then the conversation digressed, Alice saying httle ; 
 feeling, as. did George, the restraint on lips and eyes 
 insupportable. But, though both were changed out- 
 wardly, his frame more firmly knit, his face more 
 marked and masculine : her form expanded and 
 developed, inches added to her height, the girl grown 
 a lovely woman ; and, tliough they felt the mutual 
 change, neither dreaded change of heart — and change 
 of home was blessedness.
 
 ]79 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THINE ! 
 
 Latham Lodge was a massive red-brick buildiDg, 
 dating from the reign of Queen Anne, strengthened 
 by rustic masonry around and above the foundation, 
 and with rustic quoins at every angle, around each 
 window and doorway : of these, the central quoins 
 displayed in bold relief faces with expressions as 
 varied as the passions which agitate humanity; but 
 other ornaments there were none, solidity ratlier than 
 beauty having been the object of the architect. A 
 double flight of steps, branching right and left, with 
 an iron balustrade in front, gave access to the main 
 entrance, raised much above the level ground. A 
 broad firm carriage -drive swept round the smoothly- 
 shaven lawn, sparkling with hoar frost, and down 
 some distance to the heavy wooden gates, studded 
 chickly with octagonal nails. The handle of a 
 sonorous bell was here, to intimate the arrival of 
 strangers who sought admission; but that day the 
 
 n2
 
 180 god's providence house. 
 
 gates were flung open, ready to admit the most wel- 
 come visitors that ever crossed the Latham threshold. 
 
 Raised on a somewhat conical elevation, the house 
 was visible across the country for some distance above 
 the foliage in summer ; and, when the boughs were 
 bare of all but frost and icicles, the tall dark building 
 was conspicuous for miles. The drive was conse- 
 quently steep, and the garden not a dead level, but 
 raised terrace above terrace, with communicating 
 flights of steps here and there. Sombre yews, box, 
 and other evergreens, cut into quaint and fantastic 
 devices, surrounded the house, giving an aspect of 
 verdure from the windows even in the cliilliest season. 
 
 To Margaret the place was old as the memories of 
 her cluldhood, and brought those memories thronging 
 back. To Alice all was new, and as she rode along 
 her eye took in all these details, notwithstanding the 
 agitation natural to her situation. She saw too the 
 groom standing by the steps ready to receive their 
 horses ; saw the velvet-train and lace-apron of the 
 stately lady, standing by the open door ; felt again 
 (leorge Latham's sudden clasp, and his whispered 
 words, '' Welcome, dear Alice, to my home ;" heard 
 the order given for Dick and Peggy to be taken 
 round to the servants' hall, and hospitably enter- 
 tained ; was conscious that Madame Latham kissed 
 her on the forehead, with many a kindly word of 
 greeting; conscious of her own low curtsey and in-
 
 THINE ! 181 
 
 audible reply ; — bul: there was a dreaminess about the 
 whole she strove in vain to dispel. 
 
 The old lady herself conducted her guests to the 
 respective chambers prepared for their reception ; pre- 
 .pared with a delicate appreciation of their probable 
 desires and requirements, and indicative of a refined 
 taste and clear perception. To that discernment may 
 be traced the fact, that though she had summoned 
 Phoebe from the village to wait upon her visitors, 
 Alice especially, she herself became conductress of 
 the young girl, and left her alone at the door of her 
 room, conscious that she needed solitude and quiet 
 to regain her self-possession. 
 
 And she did require to be alone, and again was 
 thankful for the temporary repose. C4eorge Latham's 
 whispered words were in her ears, his touch was on 
 her waist ; never before had he so clasped her. The 
 love he felt had been implied, not spoken, in the long 
 ago ; and though she had felt and seen it through the 
 medium of her own heart, he had been to her openly 
 but a>s a guardian brother. She saw the change, and 
 trembled. 
 
 After a brief space giv^n to collect her scattered 
 thoughts, she rapidly divested herself of her travel- 
 ling-dress ; with ice-cold water laved hands and 
 face copiously, bathed her temples with Hungary 
 water (provided on the toilet-table), and slowly de- 
 scended the capacious staircase. In the marble-paved
 
 182 
 
 GODS TROVIDENCE HOUSE. 
 
 hall stood George Latham, apparently waiting for 
 her, as he advanced quickly, and, offering his hand, 
 conducted her to the room in which they had been 
 received, and closing the door, led her to a sofa placed 
 near a cheerful wood fire. 
 
 Neither Madam Latham nor Mrs. Ford were there, 
 and Alice glanced around nervously, as half-conscious 
 a crisis was at hand, and she would fain have 
 escaped. 
 
 But he had willed otherwise. He felt his false posi- 
 tion and resolved to end it ; felt it would be charity to 
 her as to himself, if that she loved him, and if not, why 
 then — but anything rather than suspense. So he 
 seated himself on the sofa by her side, and without 
 one word of trifling prelude, said, in alow clear voice, 
 whose faintest accents fell on her ear like music, 
 *' Alice, you are greatly changed ; you left Chester a 
 slight girl, you return a full-grown woman, if possible 
 more beautiful than ever. Nay, do not turn your 
 head away. I will not compliment again ; but truth 
 comes bubbling to my lips, and I must utter it. Alice, 
 dear Alice," and here his voice sank lower and trembled 
 greatly, " for two long lonely years I have cherished 
 the memory of the girl you were, with a feeling akin 
 to worship. I had loved you long before we parted, 
 but you were so young, honour forbade love's utterance. 
 Now, you return, a woman, old enough to know your 
 own heart and mine, and I cannot longer restrain my
 
 THINE ! 183 
 
 impulses. Twice this day, impelled by feelings 
 stronger than my will, I pressed you to me ; I could 
 not help it, Alice ; do you forgive me ?" 
 
 No word from Alice ; she sat with her head averted 
 and bent down, to hide the tears streaming down her 
 flushed cheeks, but had no voice to reply. 
 
 " Alice, can you not forgive me ? have I offended 
 you ?'' and he took her right hand in his, passing his 
 left arm around her waist. "Alice, you do not 
 answer me. Oh God ! I cannot have deceived 
 myself! Alice, one w^ord — but one !" 
 
 A sob, no word, as she withdrew her hand, and hid 
 her still averted face ; and he, in agony intense, slid 
 on one knee by her side, the better to catch a 
 glimpse of that shrouded countenance. 
 
 " Alice, dear Alice, I cannot endure this torture I 
 My mother suggested doubts, which then I scorned, 
 but now — now, they return with threefold force ! 
 Am I to think you cannot love me, and pitying 
 friendship withholds the dreadful truth ? For mercy's 
 sake speak, these sobs distract me ! I shall go wild ! 
 Fool that I was to let my impetuosity master m}- dis- 
 cretion. Alice, I must have an answer I Can you 
 not love me ? And as he spoke he gently removed 
 one veiling hand, looking anxiously in her eyes the 
 while. 
 
 The glance accomplished what the words could 
 not ; with a short, sharp cry she flung her arms
 
 I<^i god's providexce house. 
 
 around his neck, and gasped, " I do love you dearl3% 
 George." His wild delight it is impossible to 
 picture : the revulsion from the dread occasioned by 
 her silence was so intense, that, after straining her 
 convulsively to his heart, the impassioned man sank 
 down, and positively wept. 
 
 A man's tears, whetherof joy or sorrow, are terrible 
 to behold, and it was Alice's tm'n then to feel alarmed. 
 " George, dear George," whispered she, timidly, *' do 
 not weep thus ; you terrify me. I would have spoken 
 sooner, but I could not. George, for my sake, calm 
 yourself ; if you ch love me, spare me the pain of 
 having caused these tears!" and her voice took the 
 very slightest touch of wounded pride. 
 
 But his sudden outburst of tears was over : with a 
 tender light in his blue eyes, he drew her closer to 
 him, laid her sunny head upon his shoulder, and 
 pressed upon her lips love's solemn seal, that kiss 
 which lives through the memories of a life — love's 
 first. 
 
 Too blest for speech, they sat together thus, 
 unmindful of the waning daylight, forgetful of all 
 the world but each other, and their new happiness. 
 Suddenly Alice remembered her mother, and the 
 fear of discovery crossed her mind, thought of his 
 mother, and maiden shame took possession of her 
 soul. 
 
 '• Oh, George !" exclaimed she, releasing herself
 
 THINE ! 185 
 
 from his arms. " My mother — yours — I had forgotten 
 them. Oh, what will they think ?" and a modest 
 flush crimsoned neck and face. 
 
 " Think, my sweet love, no harm, I am sure ! My 
 mother, Alice, knows my whole heart ; and though 
 she combated my wish to speak to you at once, as 
 being selfish and abrupt, still she knew of it, and will 
 have kept your mother from missing us. However, 
 it does not matter much, my love, she will have to 
 know. We cannot keep our love a secret long, and 
 now or later is all as one." 
 
 " Oh, George, how you talk ; you forget, you 
 forget ! I dread my father knowing !" and she clasped 
 her hands in painful emotion. 
 
 " Why, my dearest Alice ? He appears one willing 
 to discard prejudice, and blot out feuds; would he 
 not be willing to cement the family rupture with our 
 union ?" 
 
 " I fear not. Oh, there is something My mother 
 
 will miss me, and she must not know — at least, not 
 
 yet." 
 
 " Alice, what is this that has blanched your lips, 
 and changed you on the instant?" questioned he, 
 anxiously. 
 
 *' Dread to lose you, and a terror besides, which I 
 have known but lately. I cannot tell you now ; I 
 must go to my mother. Do not look grieved : I will 
 tell you everything when next we are alone 1 I will
 
 186 god's providence house. 
 
 have no secrets from you, George." And she looked 
 up confidingly into his face. 
 
 Kissing her fondly but sadly, as another shadow 
 than that of the twilight crept over their faces and 
 hearts, he led her from the room to one where the 
 tsvo elder ladies sat waiting tea. 
 
 " Where have you been all this time, Alice ?" said 
 Mrs. Ford. " I thought you would never come. And 
 what disorder your hair is in, child. You might have 
 surely dressed it better than that !" 
 
 " We have been waiting a summons to tea, in 
 mother's morning room, talking over old school days," 
 replied George, to the first part of her speech, 
 ignoring the second, to spare the dear girl the pain 
 and confusion of a reply ; and Mrs. Ford accepted the 
 excuse, and forgot the ruffled hair. 
 
 Madam Latham, with a gentleness and tact 
 worthy a younger woman, invited Alice to a seat 
 beside herself, yet next to her son, and somewhat in 
 the shade. She was one of those rare w^omen who 
 never forget their own young days, whose sympathies 
 are ever warm. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Ford, my mother has engaged a young 
 person to wait upon Mrs. Ford and yourself while 
 you honour us with your presence, whom you may 
 perhaps remember as a pupil of Miss Briscoe's — 
 Phoebe Home !" 
 
 " Phoebe Home ! Oh, yes, I remember ; a smiling,
 
 thine! 187 
 
 rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed girl ! She left, I think, 
 about eighteen months before myself. Oh, yes, 1 
 remember her, and am greatly obliged to your 
 mother." Alice did not say a maid was unnecessary, 
 or that she was accustomed to wait upon herself, 
 although she thought it. ^ 
 
 " Does this young person reside in the neighbour- 
 hood?" asked Mrs. Ford, after a pause for tea- 
 imbibing. 
 
 " Yes," responded Madam Latham ; " she is a sort 
 o{ protegee of mine. All my nine girls had died in 
 infancy before George was born, and taking a fancy 
 to the merry motherless girl, I sent her to a good 
 school for a few years, away from the contagion of a 
 public-house. Her father keeps the * Black Bear,' 
 you may remember it." 
 
 " Oh, yes, and the landlord too ; he was a young 
 man newly married when I was last in Shotwick." 
 
 '* Well, after I thouglit Phoebe sufficiently educated 
 for her station, I apprenticed her to Mrs. Hopley, the 
 fashionable mantua-maker of Watergate Street, for 
 three years, in order to obviate the necessity for her 
 attendance on a drove of drunken boors." 
 
 *' Mother," said George, in a tone of slight re- 
 monstrance. 
 
 " I am right, George ; the uneducated clowns who 
 frequent the Black Bear are nothing better than 
 drunken boors ; and I shall be sorry if the girl chooses
 
 188 god's trovidexce house. 
 
 a husband from amongst them That Mattliesv' Spark 
 hangs on her footsteps, I know, and she smiles on him 
 more than I like, for his is a thirsty trade, and I fear 
 he will turn out a sot." 
 
 *• Matthew Spark's all right, mother, works hard, and 
 does not drink very much, considering his hot work." 
 
 " At present he may be all right, George ; but the 
 drinking habits are forming, and I know Phoebe is 
 much too good for him. Mrs. Ford, your cup. I must 
 apologize for conversing on a subject of so little in- 
 terest to you ; but in my feeling for the young woman, 
 I forgot what was properly due to my guests." 
 
 " Alice," said Mrs. Ford, as the repast drew to a close, 
 *' have you sent Dick and Peggy on to the Grange ?" 
 
 *' No, mother, I thought you would have done it ; 
 however, I will do so now, if you think proper. Have 
 you any message for them ?" 
 
 *' Only to tell Dick he must send, first thing in the 
 morning, the hair trunk in which you packed a change 
 of clothes for us." 
 
 ** I will accompany you, Miss Ford, to show you the 
 way ; I shall have to send a man with your servants," 
 said George, as he rose and opened the door for her 
 to pass out. 
 
 There were long and dim passages to tread in their 
 way to the servants' hall, and they did not seem in 
 any remarkable haste to get there ; nor did it appear 
 to have occurred to them to summon the servants to
 
 thixe! 189 
 
 take their orders instead of becoming their own mes- 
 sengers. To Alice, accustomed to wait on herself and 
 others, this had not occurred, but to George Latham 
 it had, only he did not care to be precise just then. 
 
 There was a flutter in the hall when they entered 
 together, and rapid glances passed from one to 
 another of the men and maids. Dick and Peggy- 
 were ready to depart, would remember all about the 
 box, know where to find the beds and bedding, would 
 be sure to secure the Grange doors at night, and so 
 mounted and went away, accompanied by Tom, who 
 had strict and private orders not to take them the way 
 through Shotwick, not to prate of forbidden mysteries 
 (ghosts to wit), and a release from the necessity of 
 seeing them beyond the Griffin gate. 
 
 " Dick," said Peggy that night, in confidential chat 
 as the}^ rode up to the Grange, "I'm a thinkin' that 
 young Mester Latham 'ill be puttmg Mester Yawood's 
 shoulder out. There 'ill be old work at the Grange 
 when Mester Ford comes, and gets wind o' it. Oi wud 
 na' stand in her shoen then. He's taken so moightily 
 wi' blester Yawood ; but this'n's younger and likelier 
 than t'other. But yo an' oi'd best hold our tongues an' 
 say naught." 
 
 " Right, wench, a still tongue makes a wise head, 
 Oi've heeard our parson say; an' least said soonest 
 mended." 
 
 " Oi hope Betty took out that basket first thing," said
 
 190 god's providence house. 
 
 she half aloud as he unbuckled the strap, and lifted 
 her from the pillion. 
 
 " Whoi, what's in the basket, yo mak' such a fuss 
 about it?" 
 
 *' Oi'll tell yo, if yo'll not larf at me ; yo all'a^^s larf." 
 
 Dick promised quietness ; so, with an impressive 
 whisper and a wise nod or two, she confided to him 
 her secret. 
 
 " Well, then, there's bread, an' coal, an' salt, food 
 an' fire, an' comfort ; and there'll be no luck to the 
 place if they binna the first things in it." 
 
 " Thou'rt a silly wench, wi' thy good luck an' ill 
 luck ; whoi thou'rt more suppositious than moi old 
 granny." 
 
 Peggy resented this accusation pettishly ; so Dick 
 thereupon, favoured by the screening waggons, kissed 
 her good-humouredly, to ''- mak' a' reeght," and she, 
 having clambered over sundry outlying packages into 
 the hall, was comforted by finding Betty had been 
 obedient to her behests. 
 
 The long ride to one so unaccustomed to the exercise, 
 had given Mrs. Ford a shaking, of whicli she felt the 
 full effects on the morrow, and, sorely against her will, 
 was compelled to breakfast in bed, and request Alice 
 to go forward to the Grange alone, to order matters 
 there without her that day ; yet she hoped to be less 
 stiff in a few hours. 
 
 It is not to be supposed that Alice rejoiced at her
 
 THINE ! 191 
 
 mother's indisposition, however slight, she was too 
 affectionate and kindly for that ; at the same time it 
 must be admitted Mrs. Ford's absence from the break- 
 fast-table removed a weight of restraint from both 
 herself and George Latham. He was alone in the 
 breakfast-room when she entered, and advanced with 
 outstretched arms to meet her ; but she came forward 
 coyly, it was so different, this morning meeting in the 
 clear daylight, from the extorted confession in the dim 
 twilio^ht the evening^ before. But love's students con 
 their lessons quicker than any, and it needed but tbe 
 tender touch of his arm and lip to put her timorous 
 bashfulness to flight once more. 
 
 Presently Madam' Latham entered the room with 
 a gracious smile and kindly word, and courteous 
 inquiries after her night's repose, and her motlier's 
 recovery from the previous day's fatigue ; and as 
 George turned away to place chairs for them, she 
 bent forward, and in an undertone, intended for the 
 ear of Alice only, said, with an assuring pressure of 
 the blushing girl's hand, "3Iiss Ford, my son has 
 told me of the relation now established between us. 
 I shall be proud to receive you as my daughter, and 
 his wife ! There, my dear, you need not be embar- 
 rassed ; it was best we understood each other at 
 once." And she pressed a motherly kiss on the 
 drooping forehead of Alice, who stood there abashed 
 and tongue-tied. But George quickly came to her
 
 192 god's providence house. 
 
 relief with a whispered word intended to inspire con- 
 fidence, as he lianded her to a seat. Then servants 
 came in bearing coffee and chocolate, and viands 
 savoury or sweet ; and, as people must eat, whether 
 they love or hate, the repast proceeded not the less 
 pleasantly, perhaps, for the few words which had set 
 Alice partially at ease. 
 
 During its progress Alice explained the necessit}^ of 
 her immediate presence at the Grange, and her mother's 
 unfitness to accompany her, adding that Phoebe could 
 go with her as a guide. 
 
 '* Not Phoebe, but I will be your escort Alice, if 
 you will permit," interposed George with a bounding 
 heart. " Will you walk or ride ? It is only a mile," 
 added he suggestively. 
 
 " Oh walk, by all means ; a walk will be delightful 
 this brisk morning. And with you," echoed her 
 beating pulse in a fluttering voice only audible to 
 susceptible ears ; yet, strange to say, both mother and 
 son heard it and smiled. 
 
 The hair-trunk had been there since daybreak, so 
 Alice in a very short time presented herself equipped 
 for her walk as beseemed the temperature, in warm 
 scarlet cloak, and little foxskin muff, a very necessary 
 appendage on a cold day when mittens left the tender 
 fingers bare. And very pleasant and love-inspiring 
 she looked as she crossed the wide hall with a firm 
 step, her eyes radiant with happiness.
 
 THINE ! 193 
 
 ^' Mother," said George, with his foot on the step, 
 " I will bring Alice back to dinner if you will have a 
 late one." 
 
 *' What time, my son ?" 
 
 " Not earlier than three. Will that suit you, 
 Alice ?" 
 
 " There will be much to do at the house which 
 servants cannot manage without a director. If it 
 would not occasion too much inconvenience four 
 o'clock would be better." 
 
 " Then, four let it be, mother ; though, I think, my 
 love, that will be your ordinary tea-time," laughed 
 George as he placed one dear arm within his own, 
 and they crossed the gardens to a side door. '' This 
 leads to a path through a plantation of mine, which 
 opens close to the gates of the Grange. It is not 
 much used, but it is nearer, and will obviate the 
 necessity of passing through the village. I suppose 
 you feel perfectly safe witli me ?" 
 
 '' Safe, George, what can there be to dread ?" 
 
 *' Nothing, my own love; but the road is lonesome, 
 and has but an indifferent name. Poachers lurk 
 there at times ; but I never was molested, and 
 have no fears. I do not think there is a human 
 being in all Shotwick who would injure me or 
 mine." 
 
 The path was somewhat gloomy, dark firs and cedars 
 shutting out the light, though oak, and elm, and syca- 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 god's providence house. 
 
 more were bare and hoary ; but the ground was crisp, 
 and the dry leaves rustled in the breeze or crackled 
 beneath their tread, as they stepped forward cheer- 
 fully, his right hand clasping the small fingers resting 
 on his other arm, perchance to keep them warm 
 without the muff. Awhile they chatted lightly, then 
 occurred a long pause, during which thought was 
 busy. 
 
 *' Alice," said he, at last, breaking the long silence, 
 " you made me very uneasy yesterday by suggestions 
 of your father's probable objection to my suit, and 
 allusions to some secret pressing heavily upon you. 
 You promised to reveal this ' when next alone.' We 
 are alone, dear love, and now, what is it ?" looking 
 fondly beneath her broad straw hat down on her 
 truthful face as he questioned her. 
 
 " I shrink from telling you, dear George," she re- 
 plied sadly. " I know it will give you pain ;" and she 
 clung closer to him as she added, after a pause, in a 
 lower voice, " I have another suitor, and I fear, I 
 fear, my father favours him." 
 
 " Another suitor !" The young man started as it 
 he had been stung. Then, with a rapid movement, 
 clutched her waist as if he would defy the world to 
 tear her from him. 
 
 " Don't, George, you hurt me." 
 
 " Forgive me, Alice, I did not know what I was 
 doing. Another suitor, and your father favours him !
 
 THINE ! 195 
 
 Oh, my Alice, this is dreadful. But you, you ?" 
 
 and he looked into her eyes as though he would have 
 read her very soul. 
 
 " Fear not for me, George , I do not love lightly, 
 nor loosely ;" and her eye kindled with the light of 
 devotion and determination;" only yourself could 
 thrust me from you now." 
 
 " And that will never be, never. I would sur- 
 render life, but not my love, my Alice." And his 
 tightening clasp gave impress to his words. "But 
 who is this dreaded rival ?" asked he, with a forced 
 attempt at playfulness, as they resumed the walk 
 interrupted by strong emotion. So Alice related to 
 him all she knew concerning Mr. Heywood, his name 
 and business ; his services to her father in Chester 
 and Delamere Forest ; her accident in the salt mine ; 
 his attention to her then ; and his impassioned decla- 
 ration afterwards. George listened with attention 
 riveted, his varying countenance and brief ejacula- 
 tions telling the power of the narration upon him ; 
 but from the time she commenced until they emerged 
 from the friendly shadow of the darkling trees, he 
 never released her from his clasping arm for an 
 instant, but held her fast, as though he dreaded she 
 would suddenly be snatched away from him. 
 
 " This is the Grange, dear Alice ; what do you think 
 'of it?" 
 
 '•' It is a fine picturesque old building ; I hope we 
 
 o2
 
 196 god's providence house. 
 
 may be happy there," and she sighed as if anticipating 
 sorrow. 
 
 " Eh, Miss, Ailse, oi'm reeght glad yo'r come ; we 
 conna tell where to put a thing !" exclaimed Peggy, as 
 she opened the door for her young mistress. *' Th' 
 waggins wor here last neeght, afore Dick an' me 
 comed, and it wor neegh mearn afore they wor a' 
 cleared out." 
 
 The hall was then littered with furniture and boxes, 
 and Alice, hastily surveying the ground-floor, gave in- 
 structions for the clearance of tlie heavier articles, in 
 accordance with the known wishes of her father, who 
 had submitted to her a plan of the building, and 
 pointed out the uses of the several rooms, so as to 
 relieve her mother of much thought and trouble. 
 
 This difficult and bewildering task she performed 
 with a quickness and precision at which George was 
 surprised. Of her business habits, her domestic quali- 
 fications, he knew nothing; but what he saw then 
 convinced him more than ever she was a prize worth 
 winning. As she, accompanied by her esquire, mounted 
 the staircase, Peggy bawled after her, " Two o' them 
 doors is locked, miss ; yo' conna get in." 
 
 "I have been entrusted by Mr. Peover with the 
 keys of these rooms ; they contain a pleasant surprise 
 for you, my Alice." 
 
 A pleasant surprise indeed ! She had thought of 
 coming into empty or disordered rooms, to arrange
 
 THINE ! 197 
 
 their old -fashioned furniture to the best advantage, 
 and here she stood in an elegant drawing-room, ready 
 prepared for her by the loving kindness of that father 
 whose disputed will she so much dreaded. 
 
 '^ This is the other key, my love ; the chamber is on 
 the right. I will await your return here. It is your 
 own room, Alice." 
 
 Surely her father had crowded kindness upon kind- 
 ness, and her heart smote her with a sense of ingrati- 
 tude as she felt rather than knew how soon their 
 opinions and wills would clash. There were tears in 
 her eyes when she rejoined George Latham in the 
 drawing-room, and they flowed freely as he questioned 
 her on their source. She threw aside her hat, sat 
 down beneath the warm light of the crimson draperies, 
 and surveyed the room with a sadness her kind father 
 never contemplated. 
 
 "Oh, George ! how can I wilfully grieve so kind a 
 father?" 
 
 " Alice, do you repent so soon your concession to 
 me ? if so, it had been better perhaps that we had 
 never met — better for both ;" and he spoke with un- 
 disguised bitterness, the yet unfinished narration rank- 
 ling in his heart. 
 
 " No, George, I do not repent ; but I should be un- 
 worthy you, could I regard these evidences of a father's 
 love, without a pang at the thought I was about to 
 disappoint his hopes."
 
 198 god's providence house. 
 
 " But Alice, love, you are not sure he favours Mr. 
 Heyvvood ?" 
 
 *' Alas, I am ! not only from his own broad hints, 
 but Mr. Heywood's assertion, when the second time 
 he sought the love I could not give." 
 
 " If it be true your father loves you so well, my 
 dearest, surely when he found you could not love that 
 man, and that your happiness was linked with mine, 
 he would yield to our entreaties, and give you up to me." 
 
 **you do not know my father, George; be will 
 yield nothing but on conviction, and nothing short of 
 a miracle will convince him an opinion or a predilec- 
 tion he has once formed can be wrong ! He is 
 inflexible, and will consider me ungrateful, both to 
 Mr. Hey wood and himself." 
 
 George Latham had stood by her side leaning 
 against the window frame dejectedly, during this 
 unpromising conversation, looking down upon her 
 wistfully, as his prospect of happiness gradually 
 receded. Soon he said abruptly, "What is Mr. 
 Hey wood like, Alice ?" 
 
 " Tall and handsome" (George winced), " wears a 
 periwig, dresses like a beau, is bland and insinuating ; 
 but there is something about him, and in his eyes, 
 from which I shrink and shudder," a very audible 
 sigh of relief from her listening lover followed this 
 declaration ; and he then asked, " Do you — do you — 
 think he — he really— truly lov — is attached to you f
 
 THINE ! 199 
 
 stumbling over the word " love " as if it galled him to 
 use it in connection with a possible rival. " He had 
 seen you so short a time — so very short a time," 
 argued he, as if striving to convince himself and her 
 that love was of slow growth. 
 
 " I knoiv he does, his passion could not be feigned ! 
 His agitation, the beating of his heart as he upheld 
 me in the mi " 
 
 " Hush, Alice !" interrupted he, impetuously ; " for 
 Heaven's sake, hush ! How can I bear to think of 
 you — my own love, in another man's arms — a lover's 
 too ? Oh, Alice, Alice, what if your father should 
 force you to marry this man ?" and he paced the floor 
 wildly, for parental authority was stronger and more 
 awful then than now. 
 
 He cannot 1 our wills may come into sharp col- 
 lision ; the love and duty of a daughter may war 
 with my love for you, but I should sin against my 
 soul to marry a man I could not love, and I should 
 soon loathe Robert Heywood. I shame to say it !" 
 and as she said this with resolute bearing, she rose ; 
 he, too, stopped in his walk, and came forward, 
 " Alice," said he, with enforced calmness, taking both 
 her hands in his, *' Promise me, dearest, that you 
 will be mine — mine come what may — in spite of all 
 opposition ! Promise this." 
 
 " I cannot, I dare not ; no blessing would hallow 
 such a promise. I will marry no one else, no force
 
 200 god's providence house. 
 
 can compel me ; but, without parental sanction, I 
 could not marry even you, and," added she, seeing 
 him about to urge her further — " do not force me 
 to think you selfish, by pressing me to promise more ; 
 let us trust in Providence to make me your wife some 
 day, and wait in hope and patience." So saying, she 
 laid her head' confidingly upon his breast, and looked 
 up into his sorrowful face with such loving, hopeful 
 eyes, no wonder that he held her there, and showered 
 warm kisses on her willing lips, mentally vowing to 
 part with her to no one. 
 
 But business had claims as well as love, and so she 
 told him, as she broke, after a while, from his em- 
 brace, ran to the harpsichord, and rattled over a light 
 tune to try the tone (and chase his sadness), then 
 hastened from the room bidding him follow, if he 
 knew how to look cheerful and be useful. 
 
 And very useful she found him; for though Mr. 
 Peover, with thoughtful consideration, had sent a car- 
 penter down to assist, she found George Latham a 
 much more agreeable, if less skilled, coadjutor in her 
 own proper department. All the men but Dick had 
 gone back with the carts, but he and the carpenter 
 set up bedsteads, moved bureaus, tables, and chests, 
 to their places, while the women unpacked bedding, 
 linen, glass, china, and crockery, under Alice's direc- 
 tions, or bestowed them in closets and cupboards, and 
 her amateur assistant lent a helping hand to anything
 
 THINE ! 201 
 
 Alice wished, or that did not separate him far from 
 herself. 
 
 The kitchen (situated, it may be remembered, in the 
 rear of the left wing) had first attention ; and, soon 
 the gaunt old chronicler of time, reared his black body- 
 opposite to the fireplace, and between the doors leading 
 to staircase and parlour, and then began to check off 
 minutes and hours with his brazen fingers and staring 
 face and warning voice, so little heeded by the young 
 and merry, so sadly or soberly noted by the anxious 
 or aged ; checked them off as complacently as though 
 it were all one to the old clock whether the minutes 
 were treasured or wasted, whether they belonged to 
 time or eternity. Long oak settles were next ranged 
 on either side the ample fireplace ; a ponderous dresser 
 fronted the immense mullioned window, which, with 
 the yard door (at a right angle with the staircase), 
 almost filled up the entire wall, and soon the dresser 
 stared the window out of countenance as its rows of 
 polished pewter plates and drmking-cups gleamed like 
 unwinking eyes, Then the great \vhite-topped table 
 came (on other legs than its own), and settled its firm 
 feet on the diamond- tiled floor just under the broad 
 window, then a saucy looking snap-table, and wax- 
 polished chairs, brass pans, and copper kettles, iron 
 fender, and fire-irons bright as steel ; so multiplying 
 the shining eyes, that a man with a bad conscience 
 would surely have fled that kitchen terror-stricken.
 
 202 god's providexce house. 
 
 Then the domestics' sleeping rooms came under con- 
 sideration, and as "'many hands make work light," 
 much was done before three o'clock. Alice then left 
 clear instructions with Peggy, resumed her hat and 
 cloak to depart, and, clinging trustingly to her voung 
 lover's arm. turned her back on the Grange, nodded a 
 familiar farewell to the gxiffins as she passed, and 
 entered the sombre plantation with no thought of fear 
 or dread, chatting pleasantly all the way, resolved, as 
 she told him to be happy with him in the present, and 
 trust to Proddence for the future. Even his despond- 
 ency melted in the sunshine of her smile, and the pair 
 trod the crisp ground lightly and freely, unconscious of 
 a dark figure that tracked their steps with a threatening 
 shadow, darker than the over-arching trees, and 
 watched them narrowly till they entered lovingly the 
 small side-door in the ffarden wall.
 
 203 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 rXDER-CURREXTS. 
 
 Post day interyenmg between the 2nd of December 
 and Michael Ford's abdication of the farm he had 
 possessed so long, and improved so greatly, he received 
 a double letter — from Margaret and Alice both — 
 thanking him in no stinted terms for the pleasant 
 surprise he had provided for them, for the taste he 
 had displayed, and, above all, for the affection which 
 suggested such an offering. They were lavish of 
 admiration of everything, especially Ahce, who cer- 
 tainly had much to be grateful for. Then they 
 expatiated on the kind reception they had met at 
 Latham Lodge, and on the marked courtesy of both 
 Madam and Mr. Latham, but here it was Margaret 
 who was profuse in expression of satisfaction, Alice 
 who was subdued. Alice also remarked that the 
 servants had been much disturbed by strange noises 
 as of pattering feet, during the second night, but she 
 supposed the noise was made by rats driven from the
 
 204 god's providence house. 
 
 filled-up moat, which in revenge were scampering 
 over the house to scare light sleepers, and so, she 
 said, she had told the maids ; and Mr. Latham (not 
 dear George) was going to send a couple of terriers 
 there to disperse the intruders. Then followed details 
 of domestic matters not requisite to recapitulate, but 
 which convinced the practical man of the tact and 
 good sense his young daughter brought to bear on 
 the common affairs of life. Her solution of the noises 
 did not quite satisfy him, but he was glad she had 
 taken so rational a view of the matter, and hoped 
 the servants (ignorant as yet of ghostly rumours) 
 would receive readily her interpretation of the 
 " pattering feet." 
 
 By Monday, the 5th, Mr. Ford saw the last of 
 his goods and chattels disappear at the turn of the 
 lane, to appear in due time at the Grange. Stables, 
 barns, and shippons were empty, and somehow a sense 
 of desolation came upon his heart as he wandered 
 over the lands and tenements he should occupy no 
 longer. The bleating of sheep, and lowing of kine 
 no more made music in his ears, and he thought of 
 the comfort, repose, and prosperity which had attended 
 him here ; thought, too, of the important change he 
 was making, certainly to an estate as much his own 
 as this, more extensive in measurement, with soil as 
 rich and fertile, homesteads more lofty and imposing, 
 but with drawbacks and disadvantages in full array
 
 UNDER-CURRENTS. 205 
 
 against him with which he should have to cope single- 
 handed. 
 
 Drawbacks these from which former tenants had 
 fled, and to which Sir Luke had succumbed. But 
 then Sir Luke was inert and irresolute (a true Gren- 
 ville), without other ambition than to dawdle through 
 life in peace and quietness ; and so he had resigned 
 good lands and a noble mansion to ruin and desola- 
 tion for lack of energy, entailing on his successor 
 difficulties enough to daunt a common man. 
 
 But Michael thanked his stars he was not a common 
 man, was neither a sluggard nor a drivelling fool, but 
 came armed to the battle before him with a deter- 
 mination to pluck the heart out of the mystery which 
 lowered the value of. his lands, and resolved neither 
 ghost nor goblin should frighten him from his posses- 
 sions. 
 
 Still (though Michael lived in the future, not in 
 the past) as his thoughts reverted to all the happy 
 memories connected with Ford-brook, he felt some 
 qualms of conscience at having removed his wife and 
 daughter from the serenity of the humbler home to 
 the almost certain annoyances, if nothing more, 
 inseparable from the grander Grange. His peaceful, 
 peace-loving wife would be the chief sufferer, for 
 Alice was firm as himself, and he depended much on 
 her co-operation to carry out his plans. 
 
 In the afternoon Michael sio^ned the lease and
 
 206 god's providence house. 
 
 handed over the keys to Mr. Brad well ; then mounted 
 Tony and rode into Northwich High Street, intending 
 to put up at the Crown for the night. The morrow 
 was the first day of the fair, and he waited to hire 
 extra servants. 
 
 The town was already thronged with a motley 
 crowd of strangers. Tradesmen with their mer- 
 chandise prepared for the exhibition of their wares ; 
 itinerant showmen were busy erecting bootlis ; a troop 
 of horse riders rode about the streets, or spread their 
 canvas tent ready for the morrow's exhibition ; giants, 
 dwarfs, and monstrosities were cooped up in nar- 
 row vans, or hid under waggon tilts ; jugglers and 
 acrobats already astonished the gaping crowds of 
 rustics with their marvellous feats of dexterity or 
 agility ; strolling players had taken possession of an 
 empty barn, and prepared to murder Sliakspeare and 
 Lindley Murray ; quacks and mountebanks vended 
 their nostrums noisily ; a May-pole, albeit the month 
 was May's antithesis, reared its tall crest above the 
 chimney-tops, with ribbon streamers flaunting in the 
 wind over the feminine nether garment which must 
 perforce be nameless, though there displayed as a 
 prize for the fleetest female foot ; Punch squeaked 
 in stray corners ; gipsies with crocks, or kettles, or 
 baskets, or wooden wares, camped in by-lanes, and 
 tithed the preserves and hen-roosts ; pedlars and 
 packmen bustled through the thoroughfares, or
 
 UNDER-CURRENTS. 207 
 
 crowded the inns ; so Michael had some ado to 
 convoy Tony safely through the moving human 
 labyrinth, the unwonted clamour disconcerting the 
 sober steed's sensitive nerves. 
 
 Punch's attendant drum and Pandean pipes set him 
 dancing an extempore horse's hornpipe in the market- 
 place; then a dancing-girl's tamborine changed his 
 step to a tarentella, peculiar to quadrupeds; and, 
 finally, in the middle of High Street, close to the 
 Crown Inn, a Highlander, whose plaid and kilt all 
 the waters of the Clyde could scarcely purify, with in- 
 flated cheeks, twiddling fingers, and spasmodic elbow, 
 crushed from his bagpipe such a discordant con- 
 catenation of hideous sounds, that Tony involuntarily 
 performed such a fling as made Michael (though a 
 good horseman) reel on his saddle. The man persisted 
 in piping, and Tony persisted in dancing, starting, 
 and kicking, until the rider's seat became a very 
 unsafe one. At this juncture, a dark man of powerful 
 build started from the crowd and seized the nostrils of 
 the plunging animal with a grip that quieted it to 
 quivering. A glance revealed to Michael the desperado 
 who had wounded him in the forest. " Hold him, 
 stop him !" shouted Michael, as the man, equally rapid 
 at recognition, loosed his hold of the horse and dis- 
 appeared amid the moving populace ; whilst the people, 
 unconscious that the words referred to more than the 
 prancing beast, made no effort to detain either. But
 
 208 god's providexce house. 
 
 an ostler from the Crown coming up, took his old 
 acquaintance Tony in charge ; so Michael flung him- 
 self from the saddle, dived amongst the crowd, and 
 searched in all quarters for this black-bearded man 
 — the same Alice saw at the church gates — the same 
 who carried Mr. Heywood's pack. He might as 
 well have searched his granary for a peculiar gTain 
 of wheat — men with week-old beards were there 
 in scores, and dress was no guide ; for rags and 
 russet, silk and velvet, jostled each other pro- 
 miscuously, and he came back to the inn annoyed 
 and discomfited. 
 
 As a counterpoise to this annoyance, was the plea- 
 sure of finding Mr. Heywood in the bar-parlour, an 
 occurrence which went far to dissipate ^Michael's 
 chagrin, and put him in good-humour with himself 
 and all round. 
 
 " Mr. Ford, this is really an unexpected pleasure. 
 Miss Ford led me to understand that your departure 
 for the Grange would take place earlier than this ; 
 but for that I should have been on my way to Ford- 
 brook now. How is Miss Ford ? I hope I shall have 
 the pleasure of seeing her this evening." (Oh, Mr. 
 Heywood !) 
 
 "Oh, Ailsie's well enough, I believe, but she is. 
 over at the Grange, as busy as a bee, putting the place 
 into trim for us all. She'll make you a famous wife, 
 Mr. Heywood, a capital woman of business is Alice.
 
 UNDEK-CURRENTrf. LOO 
 
 By the by, I saw the black-looking fellow who stabbed 
 me in the forest just now in the crowd." 
 
 " Indeed ! Why did you not secure him ?" 
 
 " Because I could not. A blackguard, with a screech- 
 ing bagpipe, had startled Tony, and that ruffian 
 involuntarily laid hold of my capering horse or I should 
 have been off; but, no sooner did we glance at each 
 other, than he was off, and though I made strict search 
 I could obtain no sight nor tidings of him. However, 
 I have offered a good reward for his capture, and hope 
 he will be caught before the fair is over." 
 
 " Um ! For my part, I think the chance is very 
 small, these scoundrels generally have confederates ; 
 and, once aware that the fair is too hot to hold him, 
 he will scarcely be such a moth as to flutter round the 
 blaze. But, excuse me, Mr. Ford, for a few moments, 
 I have a customer waiting me in Witton Street, and 
 I perceive (glancing at a cuckoo-clock in the corner) 
 I am now considerably behind time. If you can wait 
 my return I shall be glad. I will not be away more 
 than half an hour." 
 
 " Oh, don't let me interfere with your appointment, 
 Mr. Heywood ; never neglect business. I shall remain 
 here all night," said Michael, nodding pleasantly as 
 Mr. Heywood, with a graceful bow, left the bar; and 
 liastened, with knitted brows and quick step, towards 
 Witton Street, muttering angrily as he jostled roughly 
 against loiterers in his path. 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 god's providence house. 
 
 Strange to say, the customer, whom he met by 
 appoiDtment, at the Yacht Inn, Chester, and the 
 one he hurried to meet at the George and Dragon, 
 Northwich, were one and the same ; but what brought 
 him so far from Chester, unless the fair attracted him, 
 was Mr. Heywood's business, not ours. At all events, 
 no goods were displayed, no samples, and their confer- 
 ence was brief, but, apparentl}^, satisfactory, for the 
 manufacturer returned to the Crown leisurely and 
 smilingly. 
 
 On ]iis arrival at the inn he found Michael, pipe in 
 hand, discussing with the other occupants of the snug 
 bar-parlour, alike the spirit of the still, and the spirit 
 of the French Revolution. Intelligence of the decrees 
 published by the National Assembly for the humilia- 
 tion of the clergy had reached Northwich, and public 
 opinion was as ever divided on the subject. The pro- 
 bable influence of the decrees on England, and the 
 religious world in general, was under consideration 
 when Mr. Hey wood entered the little room, and at 
 once plunged into the midst of the argument with 
 the confidence of one who had studied the question, 
 and was thoroughly master of it. He showed an 
 acquaintance with minute details of occurrences which 
 had not been bared to the English eye by the public 
 press, then so imperfect; and a knowledge of the 
 French character, and the opinions, sayings, and 
 doings of the revolutionary portion of the Parisian
 
 UNDEU-CURRENTS. 211 
 
 people, perfectly astounding to Mr. Ford, whose 
 astonishment was met by the remark from Mr. Hey- 
 wood, that the extensive dealings of their firm with 
 French houses rendered an intimate acquaintance 
 with the people, and the policy and movements of 
 their rulers, whomsoever they might be, an absolute 
 necessity for the safeguard of their trade, and pre- 
 cautionary regulation of credit. 
 
 ^' Oh, clever Mr. Heywood ! that was not the com- 
 mercial room, and there was no one to dispute the 
 lying truth, so the observation passed muster, and 
 honest-hearted, strong-minded, but not clear-sighted 
 Mr. Ford, listening to the man's plausible words, 
 without a glance at his treacherous eyes, construed 
 them, as intended, into fresh evidence of Mr. Hey- 
 wood's business talents and commercial status. Mean- 
 while the debate proceeded, Michael's tendencies 
 being all on the side of religion, law, and order, 
 which no sophisms of Mr. Heywood could overturn ; 
 but so wily and adroit was the commercial man, with 
 such subtlety did he expound the views of the French 
 revolutionary party, that half the amateur politicians 
 crowding the bar-parlour went home impressed with 
 the grandeur of republicanism, as expounded by a 
 professing loyalist. 
 
 Up to this period no opportunity for private con- 
 versation had presented itself, but the departure of 
 strangers removing the embargo from friendly inter- 
 
 p2
 
 212 god's providence house. 
 
 course, Michael at once accosted Mr. Heywood 
 with : 
 
 " So you were up at the farm during my absence : 
 had you remained a second day we should have met. 
 I was very sorry to find you had gone. I fancy Alice 
 was not over pleased with your abrupt departure 
 either. I did not find her in the most amiable of 
 moods when it was named." 
 
 " I wish I could think so, Mr. Ford, but I must 
 confess your daughter's recepiion of me was less 
 cordial than I had reason to expect. I have heard 
 that women are variable, but was not prepared for 
 the change I found in Alice ; a change insupportably 
 painful to me, for I love her to distraction, and the 
 loss of Alice would bo the ruin of all my hopes in 
 life." 
 
 Aye, well may you rest your elbow on the table, 
 Mr. Heywood, and cover your face with your hand, 
 for however genuine your love and emotion, there is 
 a gleam of falsehood in your wicked eyes you dare 
 not show to Michael Ford ! 
 
 " Tut, tut, man ! don't be discouraged by a girl's 
 waywardness, all lasses of Ailsie's age are coy and 
 fitful; she would be more than woman if she were 
 otherwise. Cheer uf , man ! it will be all right next 
 time you meet. Never fear; girls seldom let their 
 sweethearts be too confident of success long together. 
 April's the lover's month, and always w^ill be — sun-
 
 UNDER-CURKENTS. 213 
 
 shine and clouds, showers and sunshine ! Come, fill 
 up your glass, and drink with me, ' Better success to 
 the wooing !' " and Mr. Ford tapped Mr. Hey wood's 
 shoulder encouragingly with the tip of his pipe, 
 pushing the bottle towards him as he spoke. 
 
 Kaising his head and hand languidly to comply 
 with the request, and respond to the well-meaning 
 toast, Mr. Ileywood replenished his glass, and then 
 paused with hand on the bottle-neck, and put to 
 Michael the question — as though then impressed with 
 the idea for the first time : 
 
 " Mr. Ford, do you think it possible Alice can 
 have a prior attachment ?" 
 
 " What, our Alice!" and Michael calmly beat the 
 ashes out of his pipe, blew down the tube, and began 
 leisurely to refill it, as he answered the momentous 
 question. *' Not she ; I don't think she knows any- 
 one worth falling in love with but yourself, and surely 
 you're good-looking enough to strike the girl's fancy, 
 if your fine feathers and polish had no charms for her. 
 Certainly, Ailsie's not the girl to be taken with a fair 
 face, or a fine figure only, but then, had not you 
 saved my life, and was she not bound to love you for 
 it ? No, no, Robert " (he had begun to call him so 
 lately), " the road's clear before you ; you have the 
 race all to yourself." 
 
 "You think so, Mr. Ford ; I am sorry to say I do 
 not 1" and the speaker shook his head sadly.
 
 214 god's pkovidexce house. 
 
 " Think so— I'm sure so !" and Mr. Ford brought 
 his pipe down on the table with a force that smashed 
 it. " Why the girl knows no one else worth having. 
 Let me see ?" and he checked off the names on the 
 table with the stump of his broken pipe. '' There's 
 young Gresford, but she hates him for staring at her 
 in church with his great goggle eyes; and Abel 
 Arden, but he's as thin as a rush, and as proud as a 
 peacock : I've heard her laugh at him scores of times. 
 Then there's Mark Brearton, with a head like a 
 scarlet poppy, and as heavy ; and our next neighbour, 
 squinting Will Yarwood ; but none of these would 
 suit our Alice, take my word for it. No, no, my 
 good friend," and he shook his head knowingly, 
 " you're the only likely man she knows, but were 
 there a score I'd back you for the winner." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Ford, I am proud and confident 
 of your good-will, and hope, in time, if I have no 
 rival in advance, to win that of my coveted Alice also. 
 But Miss Ford was away from home some time, I un- 
 derstood ; may she not ?" 
 
 *' How could she ?" interrupted Michael ; '' she was 
 at a ladies' school, and the two Miss Briscoes were as 
 strict old maids as ever took charge of a pupil." 
 
 '* Indeed ; then, of course, she would visit no one, 
 and could form no friendships." 
 
 " Oh, yes, she did visit ; an old friend of Mrs. Ford's 
 sent a daughter to Miss Briscoe's day-school, and
 
 UNDER-CURRENTS. 215 
 
 Alice used to go there occasionally, and, indeed, spent 
 her Christmas holidays with them instead of coming 
 home. But Mrs. Wright had no boys ; neither sons 
 
 nor nephews about the place, and so but stop ; 
 
 now I bethink me — young Latham said he knew 
 her slightly ; something he said, too, about a fellow 
 insulting her in the street ! Surely — " and Mr. Ford 
 paused to ruminate, regardless of the sinister light in 
 Mr. Heywood's grey eyes, or the scowl darkening his 
 white forehead ; and thus ran the tenor of Michael's 
 thoughts : Surely the slight acquaintance he spoke of 
 could not have been more than slight ; surely it cannot 
 have been an intimate friendship, and Alice kept it 
 secret from her mother. I cannot think it — yet he is 
 but a Latham, and his civility may be only a cloak 
 for duplicity, and I've been fool enough to throw her 
 in his way ! '' The sneaking cur ! if he is making love 
 
 to my girl underhand, I'll " Michael ended this 
 
 abruptly spoken ejaculation with a sudden grip of the 
 arms of his chair, and a compression of teeth and lips 
 very threatening to the rosebud hopes of Alice and 
 George Latham, and proportionately satisfactory to 
 the watchful Mr. Hey wood. 
 
 There was something stern and determined in the 
 manner of Michael Ford, as he rose from his chair to 
 retire for the night, saying to Mr. Heywood, " I must 
 be up betimes in the morning. I have servants to 
 hire, that footpad to track, if possible, and I would
 
 ±IS 
 
 st^s
 
 LJkiMJC-nAJiiSiesLs:!^ 217 
 
 hadt ponkted. Iksn IGdnd 
 
 the sense of a prointfy oyleBsani; tadit 
 m peispecdine iHsl icndeiiBg^ Mi jisnttey^a wijr agree- 
 aUe o- ^ F ihe a£itaij lide ffcnn^ tibe 
 
 keea : 7 ^ — -ie «sf 
 
 gaw !!uaj»dlwldtawti a 
 
 mi. hi 
 
 R
 
 218 god's providence house. 
 
 The griffins seemed to leer at him and at each 
 other as he made this determination whilst passing 
 under their stony eyes, but they kept their thoughts 
 to themselves, if they had any ; and he rode on, re- 
 gardless, over the weedless crround to the renovated 
 Grange. 
 
 Fires were blazing pleasantly on more than one 
 hearth ; lights just kindled (it was four o'clock) 
 flashed past corridor windows, and were lost again : 
 pierced by the glowing light witliin the room, a 
 crimson flush from the drawn curtains fell on the 
 frosty ground, on Michael and his trusty steed, herald- 
 insr the warm welcome awaitinoj him behind their 
 folds. How widely difierent from the dreary, deserted 
 mansion he scanned so dismally under the heavy 
 October sky, when his footsteps tripped in the tangled 
 weeds, and the falling leaves fell like nature's tears 
 over and around him, when every wind sounded like a 
 dirge, and desolation wrote its ugly name on every 
 wall and fence, and field and garden plot. Now, the 
 cfTounds were cleared ready for cultivation, the foetid 
 moat no longer ofl^ended nose or eye, a line of brown 
 soil alone indicated where the moat had been : the 
 house was jaunty with trim i\^", freshly-painted 
 window frames and polished panes; no defective 
 masonry marred the clear outlines of the building, 
 and, even in the dim twilight, the cheerful change 
 sank into Michael's soul. But, of all changes, the
 
 UXDER-CUR RENTS. 219 
 
 light and life within spoke loudest, and as the heavy 
 door swung back, when his foot touched the step, 
 telling that listening ears were there and ready 
 hands, it opened to his view the lamp-lit hall and 
 staircase, fresh with paint or polish, no longer fes- 
 tooned with cobwebs, dingy with dust, or musty with 
 mildew. - 
 
 Brighter, however, than lamp, or polished oak, or 
 ruddy tiles was the bright face of Alice, who stood as 
 portress there to receive him, with Peggy and Dick in 
 the rear. 
 
 *'Well, Dick, lad, how do you like your new 
 quarters?" said Michael, as soon the kisses of Alice 
 left his lips at liberty. 
 
 " Whoi, oi loikes the place well enough, measter, if 
 it war'na for th' rats ; them varmint make sech a 
 noise at neeght, they wunna let a chap sleep. But, 
 them tarriers as Mester Latham sent, ha' killed a 
 foine soight on 'em, an they hanna raced aboot th' 
 flures the two last neeghts. Meb'by oi've getten used 
 to the clatter, and dimna heer them so bad." 
 
 " Oh, we'll soon rid ourselves of rats, Dick. And, 
 if that is the only complaint to be made, I presume 
 you have been pretty comfortable. What say you, 
 Peggy?" 
 
 Dick grinned, and Peggy smirked, as she bobbed a 
 curtsey and replied, " It's a foine place, measter, an' I 
 hope as how you'll all live long to see the good on it.
 
 220 god's providence house. 
 
 An' as for Dick, oi'm sartain oi've dun a' oi could'n to 
 mak' 'un comfurtuble." 
 
 "I don't doubt it," said her master, drily, as he 
 left Tony in Dick's hands, and, with Alice by his 
 side, joined his wife, then quietly descending the 
 staircase to meet him : he bent his head down to the 
 placid face, and folded the little figure in a brief but 
 close embrace, ere he followed Alice upwards. 
 
 " How is it that I find you first in the drawing- 
 room ?" enquired he. 
 
 " Alice thought, that as you provided a pleasant 
 surprise for us, we ought to have a pleasant surprise 
 to welcome you, and I agreed with her," replied 
 Margaret, ushering him into the warm room, glowing 
 with light and pleasant faces. 
 
 A surprise, indeed. There were ]\Iargaret's old 
 acquaintances, Mrs. and 3Ir. Peover, Mrs. Latham, 
 and that friend secretly dearer to Alice than all other 
 — George Latham. The presence of the subject of 
 his recent unpleasant cogitations somewhat staggered 
 Michael, but he was neither churlish nor inhospitcible, 
 so he came forward and greeted them one and all 
 with a hearty welcome, receiving their separate con- 
 gratulations as kindly as they were meant. 
 
 " This room bears a very different aspect now to 
 what it had when we two spent an evening here, 
 Mr. Peover," said Michael, pleasantly, glancing round 
 on furniture and friendly faces. ''Joseph and his
 
 UNDER-CURRENTS. 221 
 
 Brethren look none the worse for the washing and 
 polishing they have had, and that night's cheerlessness 
 contrasts very agreeably with this one's cheeriness." 
 
 " Pleasant faces make pleasant rooms, Mr. Ford ; 
 and light hearts make pleasant faces — pleasant 
 faces." 
 
 "So they do, my good sir; and I hope and trust 
 this room may long and often hold the friends now 
 meeting in it, with faces as pleasant, and hearts as 
 warm and light," responded Michael, again looking 
 round the friendly circle. 
 
 " Amen to that, amen," said Mr. Peover, heartily. 
 
 *' If that's mester's first wish sin' he's gotten i'th' 
 house it's a good 'un, and it's sure to be lucky," 
 thought Peggy, half aloud, as she placed a bright 
 copper kettle within the fender, and retired in good- 
 humour. 
 
 '• We have few neighbours of our own class," was the 
 oljservation of Madam Latham, "and my age precludes 
 much visiting ; yet, I shall be proud to cultivate the 
 friendship of your family, Mr. Ford, and join these 
 assembled friends under your roof from time to 
 time. But, younger limbs are fitter for visiting than 
 aged ones, and Latham Lodge will, at all times or 
 seasons, be open to welcome yourself, or wife or 
 daughter. I know my son thinks with me." 
 
 Michael acknowledged the old lady's lofty courtesy 
 with an inclination of the head, and a rapid glance
 
 222 god's providenck house. 
 
 towards Mr. Latham, who briefly seconded his 
 mother's words, not daring to trust his lips with all 
 he thought. 
 
 " My associations with the Grange are many and 
 varied ; it was the scene of our counship, and our 
 wedding feast was spread in the long dining-room 
 down-stairs," said Mrs. Peover, gravely. " Our life 
 has been chequered since, and the kind lady I then 
 served passed to her account soon after ; but it 
 gladdens me to see one of the desolate places of the 
 earth restored to freshness and usefulness ; and 
 whenever business brings Mr. Peover thus far, I shall 
 be glad to join him, if he will not think his old wife 
 an encumbrance on such occasions." 
 
 "Why, JMartha, IMartha, when were you an en- 
 cumbrance to me ? I assure you, Mr. Ford, she has 
 been the best helpmate a man ever had, and the 
 truest counsellor — the truest counsellor." 
 
 "So I fully believe, Mr. Peover ; I had an inkling 
 of that when I waited on the mat in your narrow 
 hall one day last October ; but draw to the table, I 
 see tea is ready at last." 
 
 " At last, Michael ; I'm sure we've been very quick 
 considering," said quiet Mrs. Ford. 
 
 " Considering what, Margaret ?" 
 
 " Mother means, considering that we all forget the 
 places we have appointed for things, and that this 
 room is so far from the kitchen. We only used it
 
 UKDER-CURRENTS. 223 
 
 to-night to handsel it with a welcome for you." (Slie 
 forgot the flutter of heart and confusion of head of 
 herself, generally the fleet-footed, active-handed, clear- 
 headed thinker and controller of the household.) 
 
 " Oh, is that it, Ailsie ?" said her father, good- 
 humouredly. '* Mr. Latham, will you have the good- 
 ness to place chairs for your mother and Mrs. Peover ? 
 Margaret, what is under this crust ?" 
 
 " That, Michael, is a hare pie ; Alice made it. You 
 have to thank Mr. Latham and his gun for the 
 game." 
 
 " I have to thank Mr. Latham for many attentions, 
 I find, hares and terriers included. I hope some day 
 to be able to return the compliment." 
 
 Did Michael Ford detect the glance and blush 
 which told, perhaps too plainly, how George and 
 Alice hoped he would return the compliment? He 
 might have done, for he said at once, looking across 
 the table at Alice the while, " Margaret, I saw 
 Mr. Heywood at the fair ; I have asked him to spend 
 Christmas here." 
 
 The crimson deepened on the brow and cheeks and 
 neck of Alice as he spoke, then the tide receded, 
 leaving her white as ashes, and even 3rr. Latham's 
 brow was troubled. 
 
 ** Mr. Heywood was right, and I have been a 
 dupe," thought 3Iichael, noting the effect of his 
 announcement, received by the girl in silence, by
 
 224 god's providence house. 
 
 Mrs. Ford with the exclamation, " Dear me, I hope 
 be will come ! I'm sure we shall be very glad to see 
 him ! Shall not you, Alice ?"' 
 
 " I am always glad to receive my fatlier's friends," 
 was the equivocal reply, in a tone too cold to have 
 flattered 3Ir. Heywood, or to alarm 'Mr. Latham. 
 
 After tea, Michael excused himself for a while, on 
 the plea that he had yet to glance over his dwelling, 
 and see that his cattle were housed satisfactorily ; and 
 the young people were in their hearts most thankful 
 when he retired. 
 
 The elders drew in (what they called) a circle 
 round the fire, and Alice seated herself at the 
 harpischord, George following to select her music, 
 turn over leaves — and talk with trembling lips of 
 their great trouble, their secret, and Mr. Heywood. 
 "My darling AUce, I dread this man! I see your 
 father does favour him, and your mother also. Would 
 it not be better for me at once to break the ice, and 
 tell them how much and long I have loved you ?" 
 
 " I cannot advise, dear George ; there is a strange 
 dread upon me that I cannot shake off. I fear our 
 happy intercourse is ending." 
 
 *' You are a long while in finding that music, 
 Alice," said Mrs. Ford, looking round. 
 
 "It was packed hastily, and is all in confusion, 
 mother ; I cannot find what I am seekhig," was the 
 reply.
 
 UNDEE-CIJEEENTS. 225 
 
 " Shall I come to the Grange in the morning, and 
 speak to Mr. Ford ? Alice, dearest, you are not wont 
 to hesitate ; can yon not give me an opinion now ?" 
 
 " I cannot, George ; come to-morrow if you like ; 
 but think and decide for yourself — and me." 
 
 She had found her muidc, and was playing a brisk 
 air when her father entered the room. He patted 
 her on the shoulder, asking her how she liked his 
 present^ and if she had played on it before : then he 
 desired her to sing for him. She would gladly have 
 excused herself had it been possible ; however, to 
 gratify the father who had been so good to her, and 
 on whose will so much depended, she struck the keys 
 again, and with trembling voice warbled Lady Anne 
 Lindsay^s touching ballad, **Auld Robin Gray," so 
 feelingly, that every heart thrilled in response to the 
 mournful melody, though the concluding lines struck 
 a chord in George's breast that jarred discordantly. 
 It was a favourite song of her father's ; she had sung 
 it scores of times before with little emotion, and now 
 selected it with no other thought than to please him, 
 but as line followed line, the new interpreter in her 
 breast gave force to every syllable, and it needed all 
 the strength and decision of her mind to control her 
 voice, and enable her to complete the difficult task 
 she had undertaken, without a palpable break-down. 
 
 At the conclusion of the song Alice was loudly 
 complimented on the pathos she had infused into the 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 god's providence house. 
 
 popular ballad, the source whence that pathos came 
 being unsuspected by half the party, and only fully 
 known to one beside herself. But her singing was 
 over for the night ; she played selections from Dr. 
 Arne's opera of " Cymon," and, at Mr. Peover's 
 request, Handel's " Jubilate ;" and George, himself 
 no mean musician, turned over the leaves for her ; 
 but watchful eyes were upon them, and but for a 
 casually whispered word as he leant to turn a leaf, and 
 a loving pressure of her fingers, as he handed Alice 
 to a seat by the fire, all further private communion 
 was interdicted, and they were compelled, for the 
 sake of appearances, to join like mere acquaintances 
 in general conversation, with bursting hearts and 
 trammelled tongues. 
 
 At eight o'clock Peggy announced " Mr. T.eatham's 
 mon wi' th' lantern to leeght th' gentry whome ;" and 
 Mr. and Mrs. Peover being Madam Latham's guests, 
 the party broke up. The ladies were well wrapped in 
 cloaks, caleshes, and muffs. Mr. Peover staggered 
 under a heap of anti-rheumatic wrappages, a hand- 
 kerchief being tied over his head to protect his ears ; 
 so George at last thrust his arms impatiently into his 
 riding coat, and Tom marshalled the way with a huge 
 horn lantern on the end of a stick over his shoulder. 
 But the leave-takings occupied some little time ; 
 Margaret's were very quiet ; Michael's subdued ; 
 Alice, with dim eyes, took a very affectionate farewell
 
 UNDER-CURRENTS. 227 
 
 of Mrs. Latham, as though there was a foreboding of 
 long separation in her heart. Mrs. Peover offered 
 her hand and lips to the young girl ; and then Mr. 
 Peover protested it was not fair she should kiss the 
 old woman and not the old man, and insisted she 
 must kiss hira ; and might, if she liked, fancy she 
 was kissing her grandfather. So the old man's lips 
 touched the young girl's cheek, while George stood 
 nen^ously by patting his foot, longing, yet not daring 
 to claim the same privilege for himself, who had the 
 best right to it. 
 
 The grip of his hand as it closed on her trembling 
 one in bidding her ''' good-night" — possibly by mis- 
 take, twice over — told what he felt at this cold and 
 formal parting ; and there was in his voice a huski- 
 ness not attributable to cold, as he said briefly, in 
 reply to Mr. Ford's remark, " I think the moon will 
 light you better than the lantern." 
 
 '* We pass through a dark plantation on our way 
 home, Mr. Ford, and require a lantern there. Good 
 night." 
 
 The door closed with bolt and bar on the retreating 
 footsteps ; but colder than the frost without was the 
 chill which had fallen on two young hearts, and 
 harder than oak or iron was the barrier rising between 
 them to forbid reunion.
 
 228 god's puovidence house. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 STORMS. 
 
 Michael Ford was by no means a hard-hearted 
 man; but he was hard-headed ; that which lie thought 
 was right he was sure was right. Then he was prac- 
 tical, not sentimental ; and thus it was that the very 
 love he bore his daughter became a motive for stern 
 and determined coercion, which those who judged the 
 man by his outer acts only, interpreted into harsh 
 tyranny. Having had a wife so thoroughly dependent 
 on his judgment as Margaret, it is less to be won- 
 dered that he deemed Alice too youog to judge or 
 decide for herself in so important a point as the 
 selection of a husband, and consequently argued that 
 it was his duty to think and decide for her. In pur- 
 suance of this opinion he had accepted Mr. Hev- 
 wood's proposals for his daughter's hand ; not 
 doubting for an instant her willing, if not delighted 
 acquiescence. The possibility of a prior attachment 
 never occurred to him ; and when suggested by
 
 STORMS. 229 
 
 the shrewder and wiser Mr. Hey wood, seemed but 
 the hallucination of a jealous brain. The suspicion 
 once roused, however, he was not slow to mark the 
 indications of its truth. 
 
 He saw, rather than felt, there was a concealed 
 attachment between George and Alice. How long it 
 had existed he did not care to ask; secrecy meant 
 duplicity ; and his faith in the integrity and ingenuous- 
 ness of his child was shaken by the knowledge. How 
 far his wife was cognisant of the fact he had yet to 
 discover; passive knowledge she might possess, but of 
 active agency he knew her to be incapable ; she 
 might have been induced to accept that as inevitable, 
 which she had not the strength to resist, but nothings 
 beyond. 
 
 Prompt in action, if tardy in suspicion, Michael 
 confronted Alice, on their return to the drawing-room 
 with the abrupt question : 
 
 " How long have you and Mr. Latham been fooling 
 each other ?" 
 
 '• Father, I — I — " stammered Alice, sinking into a 
 chair, utterly confounded. 
 
 '' I ask a plain question, girl, let me have a plain 
 answer. How long has this folly, called love, existed 
 between you?" 
 
 The eyes of Mrs. Ford wandered from face to face 
 
 -in blank astonishment, but she was mute with utter 
 
 surprise. Alice, too, sat silent, startled and dumb-
 
 230 god's providence house. 
 
 founded alike by the discovery and the rough ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " Why do you not answer me. How long, I ask, 
 has this flirtation been going on ?" 
 
 " It is not a flirtation, father," said Alice, timidly, 
 without raising her head. 
 
 " Not a flirtation ? then what, in the name of fate, 
 is it ? Do boys and girls fall head over ears in love 
 in two or three days ?" 
 
 "We have known each other several years," sug- 
 gested Alice, meekly. 
 
 *' Well, by jingo ; but you mend backwards, miss ! 
 and so you and this fellow have been playing at love- 
 making for ' several years ' without leave or licence 
 from your elders ! A nice specimen of a modest and 
 upright daughter I have been rearing. This comes of 
 boarding-school education ! And a pretty rascal that 
 Latham must be, to make his slight acquaintance a 
 pretext for hypocritical inquiries about your health, 
 and for his mother's invitation : very kind, very con- 
 siderate, truly, to ask my wife and daughter, that he 
 might court the one under the closed eyes of the 
 other ! He is a sneaking rascal !" And having lashed 
 himself into a rage, Michael strode about the room ; 
 whether to keep his passion warm, or calm it down it 
 is hard to say. 
 
 Alice, too, rose from her chair, roused from timidity ■ 
 by the aspersion of her lover.
 
 STORMS. " 231 
 
 *' Father, George is no rascal ; nor is he a hypo- 
 crite ; nor are we trifling. If we have loved each 
 other long, the love was unavowed till lately ; you 
 could not know of it until you came." 
 
 Indeed ! What of the letter you sent to me, miss ? 
 has not he learned to write ? What business had he 
 to speak of love to you before consulting me ? Margaret, 
 did this young spark ask your consent to court our 
 Alice ?" 
 
 " Ask me ? No ; that he never did ! he was always 
 very polite and attentive both to me and Alice ; but 
 I never noticed anything particular," said Margaret, 
 deprecatingly. 
 
 "Another proof of his deceit; but I'll be quits 
 %vith him. Whenever he comes here again I shall 
 tell him my mind ; and that is, that none of his name 
 shall wed our Alice, or set foot in the Grange again. 
 It has been cursed since first a Latham trod the floors ; 
 I'll have none of the breed nigh me." 
 
 ** But, Michael," timorously remonstrated Margaret, 
 " Mrs. Latham and her son have been so very obliging 
 and attentive to us, you cannot surely be rude to the 
 young gentleman." 
 
 ** Why, Margaret, I declare you are as silly as this 
 girl ; wliat has his civility been but part of a plot to 
 rob us of our child's affection and duty ? Obliging 
 indeed ! yes, to himself." 
 
 ^' Father," said Alice, very quietly, but very firmly,
 
 'SOD? PSUwUMbJirE; BHTSS. 
 
 ixaii^^^ ir rjer*T':se 'wiia as- i jtiTntfimnmi In 
 
 LattHii^!. J"'*! ▼'Il lui ji ihk^ I 
 
 a6^;& 
 
 •Tii^i^ be-
 
 ilWl^EJft^ 
 
 
 l«!C_i 

 
 234 god's proyidexce house. 
 
 George in spite of all opposition. If she had no 
 right to marry without her father's consent, she had 
 certainly less right to marry without her own. She 
 would meet her father's obstinate resolves with re- 
 spectful firmness, and if, as she more than half sus- 
 pected, Robert Hey wood could not stand tlie touch- 
 stone of time, she and George would win her father 
 over in the end. " Perhaps !" whispered her heart, 
 with another chill, and a shudder at the slight pros- 
 pect of such a " perhaps," as she turned away from 
 the glass which reflected her troubled face, and pre- 
 pared for the pillow so needed to refresh the worn 
 mind. 
 
 Sleep was, however, long in coming ; true, she laid 
 her head on the pillow, and closed the lids over the 
 burning eyes, but to cogitate and plan, not to sleep. 
 Would it be possible to meet George Latham once 
 ao:ain without widenino: the breach between herself 
 and father ? Her fears said sadly — no ! Could she, 
 ought she to forsake him thus, without one word of 
 tender farewell, one word of explanation, one promise 
 of constancy? Her love unfalteringly answered — no. 
 And thus waged the war in her breast between the 
 two loves, the two duties, the love and duty of the 
 child to the parent, the love and duty of the w^oman 
 to her betrothed. And her final resolve was, that she 
 would meet him once again, but once, to console and 
 reassure him ; to bid him wait in faith and hope ; and
 
 STORMS. 235 
 
 then, however it might rend her heart, she would 
 bid him farewell till a brighter day should dawn ; 
 or — and she trembled as the thought passed the 
 portals of her heart — till age should confirm her right 
 of choice. 
 
 And let no rigid sire condemn the girl for this 
 decision. It is the woman's life and hope, and future 
 well-being trembling in the balance, not the father's. 
 On her choice of a mate rests happiness or misery for 
 herself, her husband, and the children she may bear. 
 It is the duty of a parent wisely to direct that choice, 
 but not to coerce it. All love and faith and unity are 
 needed to make married life the blessing our great 
 Creator willed. Woe then to that matron or that 
 sire, who shall force a child, by any argument or 
 power, to wed in opposition to her love and natural 
 instincts. Obedience is the duty of the child to the 
 parent ; but justice and thoughtful consideration are 
 as due from the parent to the child. If the child 
 makes an ill choice, she herself will be the chief suf- 
 ferer : if the parent makes an ill choice for the child, 
 what remorse will fill his after years, what bitter 
 memories or sad reproaches may follow him to his 
 grave. 
 
 For some time after Alice had retired, Michael and 
 Mrs. Ford remained in earnest conversation. Mar- 
 garet had risen to follow her daughter, but her husband 
 interposed his arm to bar her passage saying, decisively.
 
 236 god's providence house. 
 
 " Remain where you are, Margaret, lest I think you 
 encourage the girl in her disobedience." 
 
 '' I should be very sorry to countenance Alice in any 
 act of disobedience, but I do think you have been 
 over hasty, ^lichael. Alice has always been a very 
 good girl, willing to do anything to please either of 
 us, and I cannot think she could have had any 
 idea of otfending you when she encouraged • Mr. 
 Latham. And he is a very nice young gentleman, I 
 don't know but I like him almost as well as Mr. Hey- 
 wood." 
 
 "By jingo, I shall begin to think this Grange is 
 really bewitched, or that there is an actual blight 
 upon it. The first night I spent here I spoiled a good 
 cloak : on my way home, I was pillaged and wounded, 
 and, now, the first night I come to it as a home, 1 find 
 Lathams in possession of this room and my daughter's 
 heart. I remonstrate ; and the girl persists in dis- 
 obedience, and you tell me I have been ' over hasty,' 
 and qualify the girl's wilfulness with a compliment to 
 the fellow who has entrapped the simpleton." 
 
 " Well, but Michael " 
 
 *' Well but, Margaret," interrupted he, ''am I to 
 be obeyed in my own house, or not ?" 
 
 " Certainly, Michael," she assented, without any 
 reference either in speech or thought to her own rights 
 of possession in the " house." 
 
 " Has Alice any right to throw herself away on the
 
 STORMS. 237 
 
 first young fellow with a smooth tongue, she may 
 happen to meet ?" 
 
 " Certainly not, Michael." 
 
 " Is it not, then, my duty to check this folly in the 
 outset, and to see that she marries a man worthy of 
 her?" 
 
 " To be sure it is, Michael, but " 
 
 " I want no ' buts.' 1 say it is my duty, and I shall 
 not flinch from it," was his sharp interruption, as he 
 stopped suddenly in his walk and looked in her face 
 whilst uttering his resolve. At a glance, he saw that 
 his abrupt and vehement manner had utterly dismayed 
 his timid, peace-loving wife. She was unused to dis- 
 plays of anger or vehemence in his converse with herself, 
 for the simple reason that she never provoked it by 
 opposition or resistance of his known will. Then, he 
 loved her very tenderly, albeit with that sort of half- 
 patronizing, cherishing affection the strong are apt to 
 bestow upon the weak, and her soothing presence 
 never failed to allay his irritation, when some un- 
 wonted impediment had been thrust in the way of his 
 determined will. So now, as he observed for the first 
 time, the pallor of her face, and the shrinking form, 
 with a strong effort he curbed his impetuosity ; and, 
 seating himself by her side, passed an arm round her 
 waist, as though he were caressing a child, and ad- 
 dressed her in a much quieter tone. 
 
 "' My dear little wife," said he, " I have no desire to
 
 238 god's providence house. 
 
 quarrel with you, or to cause you a moment's uneasi- 
 ness. I was wrong to think, for an instant, that my 
 Margaret could have aided or shared any scheme that 
 was a secret to me. I ought to have known you better 
 in all these happy years. There, there, that will do ; 
 dry your eyes, love, and give me a kiss of forgive- 
 ness." 
 
 The kiss of peace accorded, and the falling tears 
 wiped away, while he still held her in the clasp of a 
 true husband's arm, he resumed, but in altered tones, 
 "If the spirit of disunion is to come amongst us, it 
 will be a worse spirit than has haunted the Grange in 
 its desolation : and, if the Latham influence is to be, 
 however remotely, the cause of harsh words or unkind 
 feelings between us, it will be a greater evil than any 
 I expected to encounter. Perhaps," continued lie, 
 after a pause, during which Margaret remained 
 silent, thinking — '• Perhaps, after all, I was a little 
 too abrupt with our girl. However, I will speak to 
 her to-morrow, quietly, and no doubt then she will 
 listen to reason." 
 
 Michael's kind heart evidently misgave him, as 
 to the manner in which he had addressed Alice ; 
 but, nevertheless, his opinion and determination re- 
 mained unshaken. The rupture caused him pain ; 
 but, that he, or Mr. Heywood had contributed, even 
 indirectly, to cause that rupture, he did not see ; the 
 primary cause he felt to be Mr. Latham, the secondary
 
 STOKMS. 239 
 
 he considered to be the obstinacy and disobedience of 
 Alice, and " reason " with him meant the adoption of 
 his views. 
 
 Consequently, as might be expected, there was 
 little sleep for Michael that night, any more than for 
 his wife or daughter ; and the three assembled at the 
 breakfast-table in the long room under the haunted 
 chamber (now the cheese-room), with very unre- 
 freshed aspects. There was a restraint in. their inter- 
 course never observable before ; the morning saluta- 
 tions were formal and frigid ; there were no cheerful 
 remarks, no little pleasantries ; there was no animated 
 debate on the projected pursuits of the day ; no 
 interesting or interested reference to the household or 
 other arrangements so skilfully carried out prior to his 
 arrival ; they looked anywhere but at each other ; 
 discomfort had taken possession of the board, sprinkled 
 an unsavoury odour on beveiage and viands, and 
 checked free speech. 
 
 Margaret was tongue-tied from inability to discern 
 w4iat course to adopt with Alice, or what to say so as 
 not to offend her husband ; nor could she speak freely 
 to him on indifferent topics, lest she should wound the 
 feelings of Alice, towards whom the mother's heart 
 yearned with sympathy. Alice felt the silence of her 
 mother to be a tacit testimony of perfect accordance 
 with the sentiments and wishes of her husband ; and 
 her indignation rose accordingly with what she
 
 240 god's providence house. 
 
 thought a fresh proof of injustice. Michael regarded 
 Margaret's somewhat flurried quietude as an implied 
 rebuke, and felt anything but comfortable under it ; 
 but the taciturnity of Alice he construed into dogged 
 and determined sullenness. So little are the wisest 
 or best amongst us competent to dive into the breasts 
 of each other and scan their secret lore. 
 
 In accordance, however, with his promise to Mar- 
 garet the previous night, he desired his daughter at 
 the close of the indigestible meal, to follow him to his 
 private sanctum, the small room on the left side of 
 the entrance hall, the morning room specially devoted 
 to Alice (Margaret seldom required a private room ), 
 being the one opposite to his. This sanctum was as 
 yet in comparative disorder, no hand but his own 
 being deemed competent to deal with the adjustment 
 of guns, pistols, and ammunition, fishing-rods, baskets, 
 flies, and tackle ; his table, chairs, desk, books and 
 papers had been laid ready for re-arrangement ; and 
 the room was carpeted and curtained (with the web 
 Alice had netted), otherwise it was in confusion. 
 
 He closed the door as they entered the room, and 
 seating himself, indicated with his hand for his 
 daughter to do the same ; but she remained standing, 
 her sense of justice every instant convincing her more 
 strongly that she had an individual right of freedom 
 to think and love; and every instant her determina- 
 tion to resist despotic coercion giew stronger. Still
 
 STORMS. 241 
 
 she was wise enough to know that opposition would 
 but chafe her father to more pertinacious an assertion 
 of his parental authority, and inwardly resolved not 
 to express a determined resistance unless he w^ere, as 
 last night, unreasonable and unjust to George. It is 
 a habit of the human mind to prepare for contingen- 
 cies on one side only, and thus Alice was some little 
 disconcerted by her father's first words. 
 
 " Alice, it has occurred to me that I was perhaps 
 unduly harsh to you last night. I took you by sur- 
 prise, and probably misunderstood the true spring of 
 your unfilial words. I love you too well, my dear 
 child, to say or do anything that is not for your true 
 welfare ; and therefore when I forbade your intercourse 
 with Mr. Latham, it was with no intention of giving 
 pain to you, but with the desire to prevent a great 
 evil." 
 
 Prepared for harshness, the first kind words melted 
 the ice at the heart of Alice ; and as it flowed in tears 
 down her cheeks, she threw herself at his feet and 
 buried her streaming face in her hands on his knee ; 
 but as the last words fell on her ear, she raised her 
 head, and listened tearless for the remainder. It 
 came. " For centuries, my dear girl, the Lathams 
 have been a curse, either directly or indirectly, to the 
 Grenvilles, and you may be sure I dread any connec- 
 tion with a scion of the fatal house." 
 
 '* And why should you, my father ? Have the 
 
 VOL, T. R
 
 242 god's pkovidexck house. 
 
 Grenvilles been better than the Lathams ? I tlnuk 
 not. The dupes have in their weakness and imbecility 
 been as wicked as their tempters or defraud ers. But 
 you, father, are not a Grenville, I am not a Gren- 
 ville, and George Latham belongs to tlie purer side 
 of his race. No fataUty could attend our union.*' 
 
 " Union ! do you say? How dare you name such 
 a word after what I had said last night?" exclaimed 
 he hastily. 
 
 She rose from her knees slowly, and replied with 
 dignity, "You said many unjust words last night, 
 father, which I thought you were about to retract 
 this morniuof. I am sorrv to find I was mistaken." 
 
 '•' Do not let us misunderstand each other,'' said 
 Mr. Ford, putttng a strong curb upon himself. " You 
 have offended me greatly by encouraging the secret 
 addresses of a young man whose very name you know 
 to be distasteful to your parents ; but I am willing to 
 overlook your share in this clandestine courtship if 
 vou at once abandon your folly, and receive as my 
 dauohter should, the overtures of a man who saved 
 my life, and whose love for you is worth more, thrice 
 over, than that of a boy like young Latham." 
 
 '•' I love the hoi/, and I despise the man. I can 
 not abandon the one, nor will I receive the other ! 
 You are more unjust, father, than I ever knew you to 
 be before. If you know little of George Latham you 
 know less of 3Ir. Hevwood ; and handsome as he is, J
 
 STORMS. 243 
 
 am sure he is a bad man, for he has bad eyes, and a 
 false mouth." 
 
 You are a daring, impudent girl, to stand there and 
 traduce my best friend, in the same breath that you 
 set my authority at naught. But, Alice, mark me, 
 you shall not marry this Latham, if for no other 
 reason than your perseverance and obstinacy ; and I 
 insist that you see him no more." 
 
 ••' You compel me, father, to unmaidenly resistance ; 
 I must see him, if but to say farewell. Do not deny 
 me one interview !" and she clasped her father's hand 
 imploringly ; but true to his perverse creed he shook 
 her off, saying : 
 
 ••' Once for all I tell you. you shall not see him !" 
 
 "And once more, father, I reply I must T and, 
 so saying, Alice turned and left the room, with a 
 bright red spot on either cheek, and a dull burning 
 pain at her heart, which turned her almost sick. 
 Unfit for household duties, she ascended the central 
 staircase as though, at every step, she trod down an 
 opposing something, and hurried to her own room to 
 think in quiet. There she found her mother, dusting 
 the speckless furniture for occupation until Alice 
 should join her. 
 
 Oh mother, dear mother !" said AHce, what am I 
 to do ? My father forbids my love, forbids me ever 
 to see George. What shall I do ? If I meet him, I 
 shall offend my father, so kind, so good, so very 
 
 e2
 
 244 god's providence house. 
 
 good to me till now. If I obey my father, George 
 will think me false, or fickle, or unjust. I must 
 see him, mother, I must. I love him very, very 
 dearly : he must be assured of my truth, and know 
 that, even if parted, my love remains unchanged ! 
 Oh, mother, mother !" and the girl sat on a chair 
 swaying backwards and forwards in her intense 
 agony. 
 
 " Alice, my dear Alice, do not, do not give way 
 thus. I wish you could think as your father thinks, 
 it would be so much better, yuu know, for all of us ; I 
 do not think there is much to choose between Mr. 
 Latham and IMr. Heywood. Perhaps I like Mr. 
 Latham ;i little the best; but then he is a Latham, 
 and 31 r. Heywood is older, better able to take care of 
 3T)u (l\iic]\ael was ten years older than herself): 
 besides you know but for him your father might have 
 been killed ; and then, you know, your father wishes 
 you to marry him. I think you might try to oblige 
 your father," said she in a wavering and troubled 
 voice. 
 
 " Mother," replied Alice, huskily, ** who did you 
 oblige when you married ; was it uncle Luke ?" 
 
 ''Why, no; not exactly; you know uncle Luke 
 did not wish me to leave him ; but then he gave his 
 consent to oblige us." 
 
 "And so you married to oblige yourself and father ! 
 And who did father oblige, besides himself and you ?
 
 STORMS. 245 
 
 His father and mother?" asked Alice, quietly, but 
 peculiarly. 
 
 ''No, child, you know that well enough; you know 
 they wanted him to marry his cousin to keep the 
 money and estates in the family, but he would marry 
 me in spite of them." 
 
 "And so both you and my father married to please 
 yourselves and displease your relatives, yet you think 
 I might marry Mr. Hey wood to oblige my father ;" 
 and Alice repeated this in a tone of bitter sarcasm. 
 " But I must and will see George once more, mother, 
 I am determined, and iMadam Latham, too, whatever 
 comes of it ; they sliall not think me volatile and un- 
 grateful !" and her compressed lips told that she 
 meant what she said. 
 
 Ere her mother could overcome her astonishment 
 at this outburst sufficiently to frame a reply, the re-. 
 sonant staircase and corridor conveyed to their ears 
 the sound of a few rapid strokes of the ponderous 
 knocker on the hall-door, announcing a visitor. The 
 pulse of Alice stopped for an instant, then beat 
 with quick vibration. AVho was the visitor ? Was it 
 George ? or Mr. Peover ? or both ? It could not be 
 Mr. Heywood, surely, before his time ; and her heart 
 sank at the bare supposition. 
 
 The visitors (for there were two) were George 
 and Mr. Peover, as whose companion the younger 
 man ostensibly came, though in reality resolved, 
 if an opportunity presented itself, to lose no time
 
 2ii) GODS PEOVIDEXCE HOUSE. 
 
 in declaring to Mr. Ford his deep attachment to 
 Alice, and beseeching his sanction. The opportunity 
 came all too soon. They were ushered into the room 
 Alice had so recently quitted, and that before Michael 
 had recovered his equanimity. To Mr. Peover he was, 
 as ever, the courteous gentleman ; but there was an 
 iciness in bis reception of George, very foreign to his 
 natural habits, which at once perplexed and chilled 
 him. 
 
 Mr. Peover's sole object in this ** morning call " was 
 business, and in a short time both himself and Mr. 
 Ford were engrossed with the consideration of matters 
 of no interest whatever to the young lover, whose 
 glance turned towards the door from time to time with 
 a lonjnnc: for the entrance of the dear one who held 
 his heart in thrall. He felt, too, a strong inclination 
 to turn the swing handle of the latch and quit the 
 room in quest of Alice; the restraint of Michael's 
 presence being a new and discomforting one. Having 
 hitherto wandered over the premises unchecked save 
 by his own inclination, and followed Alice in all her 
 wanderings from room to room as a hindering assist- 
 ant, this embargo on his locomotion was somewhat 
 trying to an impulsive nature like his. It was very 
 apparent that this was Mr. Ford's private room, but 
 why both himself and the builder should be shown 
 into it, particularly in its present state of disorder, 
 rather than into the household apartment, he puzzled 
 himself Y^ry -pertinaciously to guess.
 
 STORMS. 247 
 
 His doubts were resolved much earlier, and more 
 rudely than had entered into his calculations. Busi- 
 ness disposed of, 3Ir. Ford said, " You will find Mrs. 
 Ford and Alice in the long parlour, I imagine, Mr, 
 Peover. I am desirous of a little private conversation 
 with your young friend" (not my young friend), " and 
 they will be delighted to see you the while, if you 
 will excuse ceremony." 
 
 '•' Oh, certainly, certainly ; 1 shall be as glad to see 
 them — as glad to see them;" and the jerky old man 
 jumped from his chair, and was bowed from the room 
 by ]\lichael, who smiled sternly as he overheard the 
 half -muttered ejaculation, " Whew ! what's in the 
 wind now — what's in the wind now ?" 
 
 " Mr. Latham," said he, turning slowly round, and 
 looking George full in the face, " I have discovered 
 that you have presumed to solicit my daughter's affec- 
 tion unknown to me, and that this clandestine love- 
 making has been going on for years. What have you 
 to say for this dishonourable conduct ?" 
 
 His peremptory question and unexpected accusation 
 somewhat staggered George ; but strong iu the inner 
 consciousness of the rectitude of his own motives and 
 intentions, he answered Michael promptly and un- 
 falteringly. 
 
 '' Only this, Mr. Ford, that you are prejudging me. 
 I admit I have loved your daughter for years, but I 
 deny the clandestine love-making, until her presence
 
 248 GODS PROVIDEXCE HOUSE. 
 
 under my own roof, in her matured womanly beauty, 
 forced the confession from me. And I repudiate the 
 charge of dishonour, having come hither this day with 
 the express intention of disclosing to you the secret of 
 our loves, and asking your sanction." 
 
 " And you expect me to believe this, young gentle- 
 man, do you?" asked Michael, with a palpable sneer; 
 " a very probable story, truly. It is not customary 
 for young men to encumber themselves with old ones 
 on such errands. Had I not forced the admission 
 from you, I should have heard nothing of this. The 
 subterfuge is a disgrace to you, or would be, were you 
 not a Latham." 
 
 "Mr. Ford, no other man dared have said to me 
 what you have said this morning. I have a quick 
 temper, and seldom brook insult ; but from the 
 father of Alice I can bear much. I repeat, I came 
 this morning to seek your consent to my courtship of 
 your daughter, not doubting a courteous reception, and 
 hoping, by straightforward dealing, to overcome your 
 prejudices against my family name." 
 
 " It is all very well to tell me this now, Mr. Latham," 
 said Michael, rather testily, " but you cannot change 
 my belief." 
 
 " I regret it," answered George, seriously, " lest it 
 should influence your decision now, for the question is 
 broached ; and I ask earnestly that you will consider 
 the matter without pique or prejudice, for the happi-
 
 STORMS. 249 
 
 ness of two lives depends upon it. May I hope to 
 have your sanction of my suit ?" and George looked 
 as thouo^h the word of Michael were irrevocable fate, 
 and life and love depended on it. 
 
 " No ! emphatically no !" answered Michael, harshly. 
 " By what right do you accuse me of prejudice ? You 
 have overshot your mark, Mr. Latham ; I give my 
 daughter to no man who makes love to her before 
 asking my leave. I give my daughter to no man, 
 whatever his wealth, who idles his time away un- 
 profitably, instead of following some useful occupation ; 
 nor do I give my daughter to any man whose name 
 would disgrace her." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Ford, this is indeed prejudice. I honestly 
 forbore the declaration of my love whilst A.lice, dear 
 Alice, was too young to act for herself, and for two 
 years nourished an unstimulated passion, in the vague 
 hope of some day wooing her with your full concur- 
 rence. The uncontrollable joy of meeting her once 
 more after our long severance, was too much for my 
 resolution. I was but mortal ; the flood-gates of my 
 heart were loosened, and words gushed forth I would 
 not now recall even if I had the power, for Alice was 
 won." 
 
 •' Not quite," was practical Mr. Ford's interruption 
 of this impetuous speech, with its injudicious termi- 
 nation ; " not quite ; my consent had to be gained, and 
 that you are not likely to have. In short I have pro-
 
 250 god's providence house. 
 
 mised my daughter's hand to a worthy business man, 
 who loves her quite as well as you do, though he has 
 not yet favoured me with a rhodomontade speech like 
 the specimen I have had from you. My girl must 
 marry him, and so I have told her." 
 
 " But she does not love him, Mr. Ford," remon- 
 strated George, in tones of bitter anguish. 
 
 " Then she must learn to love him. The girl is 
 young, and the man is handsome, rich, and elegant, 
 and a thoroush business man. What more can she 
 
 o 
 
 require ?" 
 
 '' Without love she will never see these perfections, 
 and Alice loves me. Oh, Mr. Ford, I entreat you to 
 re-consider your decision. My happiness or misery 
 may not concern you, but for the sake of dear, dear 
 Alice, whose happiness I know is linked with mine, 
 be generous, and give us to each other !" 
 
 '' I will do nothing of the kind, sir ; my decision is 
 irrevocable, and Alice knows it. And I must desire 
 that you seek no interview with the girl, to warp her 
 mind, or tempt her to disobedience. For your 
 attention to my wife, and your hospitality, I thank 
 you ; but your design on my daughter almost robs 
 these civilities of their grace. You will consider us 
 henceforth as strangers, Mr. Latham, and so my 
 daughter will have to regard you." So saying, 
 Michael pulled the bell-rope. 
 
 *'Mr. Ford, I have a due regard for parental
 
 STORMS. 251 
 
 authority, but I love Alice too well to resign her 
 to any man without a struggle. I have ashed 
 your coDsent : having refused it, henceforth I must 
 act for Alice and myself as necessity and Pro- 
 vidence shall determine." He spoke this firmly, yet 
 calmly, though his heart beat wildly ; and as he 
 concluded, Peggy came to the door in answer to the 
 bell. 
 
 "Tell Mr. Peover that Mr. Latham awaits him 
 here," was Michael's order to the young woman, who 
 dropped a curtsey and retired. No further words 
 passed until Mr. Peover returned, then he shook 
 hands with Mr. Ford, and bade " good day," whilst a 
 stiff bow w^as all the leave-taking between Michael 
 and Mr. Latham. 
 
 And so George Latham turned away from the 
 Grange with a disconsolate and hopeless heart, tor- 
 tured with apprehensions lest Alice should be driven 
 to desert him against her own will ; jealous of the 
 Mr. Hey wood, now so formidable, and half mad with 
 the fear that they might meet no more or meet as 
 strangers. How many young hearts suffer agony 
 like this, while the world moves on as heretofore, and 
 their sorrows are but as grains of sand on the shores 
 of Time ! 
 
 Well he knew the window of his darling, and he 
 turned when within range to cast an eager look 
 upwards. Alice was there ; she clasped her hands
 
 252 god's providence house. 
 
 with sudden joy, he kissed his hand to her repeatedly, 
 and she replied. 
 
 And then he went his way, his grief a little 
 lightened by that brief glimpse of the watching 
 maiden. And Alice kept her room that day under 
 the genuine plea of head-ache ; that intense head-ache 
 inseparable from a woman's heart-ache.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WHAT WILL IT LEAD TO? 
 
 The sharp frost had been succeeded by a rapid thaw, 
 and the thaw had been closely followed by a drizzling 
 rain, which came down pitilessly the whole of Friday 
 and Saturday, nor ceased its droppings on the 
 Sunday. More pitiless, however, had been the 
 drizzling rain of little duties Michael had showered 
 on the hands of Alice, with the double motive of 
 keeping her thoughts from wandering — or her feet. 
 He was by no means sure that she did not meditate 
 a walk to Latham Lodge, even through the rain ; so 
 he called her to assist in putting his own room into 
 order ; then desired her to examine Mr. Peover's 
 accounts, and that she found by no means an easy 
 task : over and over again she added up the sundry 
 items, but the figures seemed to dance about and 
 cliange places, so every time the total varied; and 
 only a very strong mental effort enabled her to con- 
 centrate her thoughts so as to overcome the difficulty. 
 After that, when the candles were lit for the long- 
 evening, he required a tune on the old harpischord,
 
 254 god's providence house. 
 
 and after tea challenged her to a gamo at back- 
 gammon. 
 Saturday — 
 
 " The day on which odd matters are made eveu ; 
 Tlie dirtiest, cleanest too, of all the seven " — 
 
 of course brous^ht its own amount of routine duties 
 to her amongst the rest ; but Michael superadded 
 the unpacking and arrangement of books on the 
 shelves of the new book-case ; and congratulated 
 himself at the close of the day that he had kept her 
 so fully employed. 
 
 On Sunday he would fain have detained her from 
 church, lest she should there meet with Mr. Latham, 
 and he urged the rain as an excuse ; but Alice came 
 down provided with cloak, and hood, and pattens, and 
 umbrella (the umbrella her father had bought for her 
 as a special gift, the first she had possessed ; the only 
 one save her mother's in the whole establishment, 
 or perhaps in all Shotwick), so JMichael thought 
 it advisable to accompany her, and consoled him- 
 self with the notion, that as they would have to 
 attend the same church, the sooner the difficulty of 
 keeping Mr. Latham aloof was surmounted the better. 
 
 In most country churches there is a family pew 
 attached to the great " house " of the neighbourhood ; 
 but in Shotwick were two great houses, and con- 
 sequently two conspicuous pews, on opposite sides of 
 the building, as the Lodge and the Grange were
 
 WHAT WILL IT LEAD TO? 255 
 
 almost at opposite angles of the village. The Gren- 
 ville pew, so long a fold without a flock, now shone 
 resplendent in the new pomp and vanity of 
 crimson curtains and brass rods ; and as Michael 
 preceded Alice up the aisle, and ushered her into the 
 exclusive sanctuary, they were followed by the curious 
 eyes of more than rustic worshippers. With the 
 prosy sermon of the once rollicking fox-hunting par- 
 son, now heavy as his homilies, we have nothing to 
 do ; it might or might not awaken the sleeping con- 
 science of a solitary sinner in the crowd ; our story 
 lies with those who should have sat and listened, but 
 who for the most part sat and looked at each other 
 with longing eyes, until Michael rose and closed an 
 intervening curtain. 
 
 At the conclusion of the service the villagers 
 respectfully kept their seats until the gentry had 
 left their pews, and led the way ; there was no 
 rude jostling and shuffling to escape the sacred pre- 
 cincts, such as too often disgrace modern fashionable 
 churches, as thotigh they were theatres or concert- 
 halls. Here reigned order and decorum, inspired 
 perhaps not merely by veneration for things sacred, 
 but that awe of superior wealth and station, not 
 altogether confined to the vulgar. Thus it was that 
 in spite of Michael's manoeuvring, Alice and George 
 passed down the aisle together, and into the porch. 
 Their hands met and closed on each other ; then her 
 pattens had to be selected from a group and adjusted,
 
 20(3 god's providenxe house. 
 
 for the pretty feet to slip beneath their bands ; the 
 umbrella to be unfurled and expanded ; and George 
 was by her side and at her service, and though words 
 were few, the hands met once more, in utter disregard 
 of the frowns of 3Ir. Ford, who could not well make 
 the church-porch a scene of contention, albeit he 
 hurried his daughter away with little ceremony, and 
 less leave-taking. But that reassuring pressure of the 
 hands had defeated all Michael's policy of estrange- 
 ment ; in fact, the estrangement seemed growing up 
 between himself and child, not between the girl and 
 her lover. 
 
 After the first few angry words which told Michael's 
 displeasure, the homeward path through the village 
 and the fields was trod in silence, not so much the 
 result of sullenness. as the consciousness of discord in 
 their feelings and intentions. 
 
 Alice hastened to her chamber as soon as she 
 reached home, and only left it in obedience to a 
 summons to dinner, contrary to her ordinary cus- 
 tom, which was, to lay the cloth, draw the ale, 
 and facilitate matters in many little ways not 
 tending to disarrange the Sunday robes. Michael 
 grumbled at this innovation, and hoped she was 
 not growing lazy as well as love-sick and dis- 
 ol>edient, for h/slmted laziness in man or woman. 
 Sign^iof an ill change and an altered spirit creeping 
 over the dividing family. Had the change of heart 
 corne with tlie change of hearth ?
 
 WHAT WILL IT LEAD TO ? 257 
 
 But Alice was not lazy ; she only could not bear to 
 meet her father's altered eye, or hear the harsh tones 
 of his once kind voice, and sedulously avoided his 
 presence, lest he should say aught respecting her rival 
 suitors likely to provoke an un dutiful rejoinder from 
 herself. After that rebuke of his, however, she kept 
 clear of the imputation of idleness, and busied herself 
 as usual, not only in superintendence of domestic 
 matters, to lighten her mother's household cares, but 
 in active co-operation wherever assistance was most 
 needed. 
 
 That day, at all events, passed over as no other 
 Sabbath in their home had ever done. Peo:o:v and 
 Betty, and Sally, the new maid, went to church in 
 the afternoon as had been the custom in Northwich, 
 attended by Dick, and Ben, the cow-boy, but IMichael 
 did not surrender himself to an afternoon nap in his 
 arm-chair as was his wont, there was an uneasy sus- 
 picion in his mind that would not let him sleep, or 
 suffer Alice out of his sight long together. He called 
 her to the harpsichord, and she played for him anthems 
 and chants, and snatches from oratorios, but with a 
 heart far away from her finger-ends, and so the music 
 was flat and spiritless. Weary of that, he desired her 
 to read to him, and Bunyan's Pilgrim was introduced, 
 but Christian fled from the City of Destruction, floun- 
 dered through the Slough of Despond, and made his 
 way to the "Wicket Gate, without producing other 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 god's providence house. 
 
 effect on hearer or listener than " words, mere words ;" 
 Margaret alone (from whose mind the recent commo- 
 tion was passing away) listened with interest, not the 
 less profound because the book was being re-read for 
 the dozenth time. The servants returned from church, 
 tea was provided and despatched, Michael lit his pipe 
 and smoked, but in uncomfortable silence, whilst Alice 
 read, or pretended to read, a volume recently pur- 
 chased by her father, Johnson's Easselas. 
 
 It was not that the rain fell at intervals, or that the 
 yet untilled grounds were cheerless, or that the long 
 room was dreary in itself, or strange, or that the rest 
 from active labour was wearisome, or that sacred 
 music, or the wondrous allegory were not congenial 
 to their minds : these had been oft-recurring things ; 
 the change had naught to do with these externals, it 
 was the inner change, the disunion in their hearts, 
 which desolated the Sabbath, and made the laughter 
 from the neighbouring kitchen sound harsh and 
 discordant. 
 
 But weary days or pleasant ones alike come to an 
 end, and at an earlier hour than ordinary the whole 
 family retired to rest. Slumber had sealed every 
 eyelid many hours, when sleep was broken by an 
 unearthly shriek, and flying footsteps rushed along 
 the corridor. The sleepers were awakened ; the 
 heavy servants turned over in their beds, and thought 
 "how troublesome them rats wur."
 
 WHAT WILL IT LEAD TO? 259 
 
 x\lice fancied she had been dreaming, and again 
 composed herself to sleep within the shelter of the 
 sky-blue curtains, which, by the way, had served to 
 deaden the sound. Mrs. Ford was disposed to similar 
 impressions, had not Michael started from his bed and 
 rushed into the corridor. 
 
 All was silent, and so dark his eyes could not pene- 
 trate the gloom, but no spectre was visible, no human 
 being was there, to waken the silence even by a 
 breath; and he returned to his bed, muttering, for 
 his wife's satisfaction, something that sounded like 
 " those rats again !" 
 
 Of his private thoughts he said nothing ; perhaps 
 it would have been difficult to analyze them ; but it is 
 certain, had he possessed that undiscovered luxury, a 
 lucifer match, or any more expeditious appliance for 
 procuring a light than the patience-trying tinder-box, 
 flint, and steel, he would not have left the mystery 
 without another attempt at a solution. As it was, he 
 thought it better to conceal his own suspicions, vague 
 as they were, lest he should rouse the very appre- 
 hensions he was so anxious to allay. 
 
 At breakfast the next morning, Alice related to 
 her father her "singular dream," and her mother, in 
 much surprise, told, as a remarkable coincidence, 
 how the "rats" had awakened herself and Michael. 
 Of anything beyond she said nothing, no idea of 
 ghost or goblin having crossed her mind. Nor did 
 
 s2
 
 260 god's providence house. 
 
 he think proper to reveal the discovery he had made 
 early that morning in the cheese-room, when, under 
 pretence of counting the cheeses, he had gone once 
 more to explore the haunted chamber. 
 
 He had found the cheeses which had previously 
 been ranged in rows according to age, rolled about 
 the room in indiscriminate confusion, and, where 
 the boards had been planed down to etface the blood- 
 stains, the bloody marks still there as fresh as though 
 the suicide had been committed but the day before. 
 Aghast, he had stood for awhile, gazing at the crim- 
 son stains, but soon his strong practical mind overcame 
 all other feelings, and he began to replace the cheeses 
 in their places, lest other eyes should see the disorder 
 — a tough job, as Cheshire cheeses are seldom light 
 weights. But he had covered up the offending spots, 
 and trusted the cheeses might not be so disturbed 
 again ; and true to his creed — which ignored the 
 existence, or rather the return of spirits to the 
 spot of their earthly sojourn — Michael maintained 
 strict silence as to the re -appearance of the tragic 
 stains. 
 
 His moodiness Alice ascribed to causes connected 
 with herself, having no suspicion of the true state of 
 the case. From his reverie he was, however, dis- 
 turbed by a loud Tan-ta-ra-ta-ra ! tan-ta-ra-ta-ra ! 
 from the long tin horn of the post-boy, who came 
 every Monday and Thursday with letters (when there
 
 WHAT WILL IT LEAD TO? 261 
 
 were any to bring), and carried away with him any 
 provided against his advent, for transmission else- 
 where. " Post paid," said Peggy, as she placed two 
 letters on the table before her master, and proceeded 
 to clear away the breakfast equipage, in which Alice 
 assisted, not, however, without some latent curiosity 
 about tlie letters ; for Michael had but few corre- 
 spondents, and something told her those were not 
 either from farmers or cheese-factors, and related 
 neither to cattle nor grain. 
 
 " Eh ! what ! um !" ejaculated he, as he took up 
 the smaller of these epistles, turned it from side to 
 side, and, as if debating a point with himself, read 
 the superscription aloud, "Miss Ford, Grenville 
 Grange." Alice almost dropped the dish she was 
 removing, but she steadied her nerves to carry it to 
 the kitchen and return with a composure of features 
 strangely at variance with her palpitating heart. 
 Meanwhile Michael had turned over and over the 
 missive, curiously folded to puzzle prying eyes, 
 debating within himself whether to read it, return it 
 unread (he had no doubt about the writer), or to 
 throw it in the fire at once. He could be stern and 
 peremptory, but he shrank from a dishonourable 
 action, and though there was a nervous twitching of 
 his mouth, evincing strong temptation, honour pre- 
 vailed ; and he at length reluctantly tossed the letter 
 to Alice, saying, " Take thy love letter, Alice, but
 
 262 god's providence house. 
 
 mark, if there come any more from the same quarter, 
 I burn them !" 
 
 Taking it eagerly, with burning cheeks she hastened 
 to her own little room to read it in solitude, unmindful 
 of the remaining letter, which concerned her quite as 
 nearly, though she did not know it. Nor, in her 
 eagerness to depart with her prize, did she catch the 
 exclamatory observation of her father, as he raised the 
 other letter and broke the seal. " Robert Heywood ! 
 why, I could have sworn it was from that Latham ; 
 perhaps, after all, the letter I have given Ailsie is 
 from Robert. If not, why then I never saw two hands 
 more alike in my life." And, to a casual observer, 
 this was the case ; had the calligraphy of both been 
 formed from the same model, they could scarcely have 
 been more similar, and yet there was an individuality 
 about each, indicative of the character of the writer. 
 The one told legibly in its careless, open flow, the 
 hurried impetuosity of George Latham ; the other, in 
 its systematic ease, showed forth the smooth, deliberate 
 craft of Robert Heywood. Had one man penned the 
 twain in different moods, they could not have borne a 
 closer resemblance ; and, yet they differed, widely as 
 did the characters of the two men. 
 
 Alice locked herself in her little sitting-room before 
 she ventured to unfold the precious billet, precious as 
 being her first love letter; doubly precious, circum- 
 stanced as she and her lover were. How the girl
 
 WHAT WILL IT LEAD TO? 263 
 
 kissed the senseless paper ; how her fingers trembled 
 as she unsheathed the scissors, suspended by a chain 
 from her girdle, to cut her letter open, lest she should 
 injure the seal, bearing the Latham crest. Not, how- 
 ever, because of that impression, but for the sake of 
 him whose seal it was, whose pen had traced these 
 earnest lines : — 
 
 " My Darling, Alice, — I have seen and spoken 
 to your father, and the result is worse than even you 
 anticipated. He may have told you, dearest, of our 
 stormy interview, but I question whether he would 
 tell you my resolve. You may know — he said you 
 did — that he not only disapproves our union, but 
 forbids our intercourse, and would sunder us for ever, 
 and all to give you to that man whom I cannot bring 
 myself to name, for whom I have conceived a strong 
 antipathy. I may be wrong, Alice, in thus prejudging 
 a man I have never seen, only because he loves where 
 I do : if so, blame not me, but my deep love which 
 could not resign you to an emperor. My Alice, mine ! 
 You are mine, Alice, you have declared it, and those 
 dear lips could never frame a falsehood ; and, being 
 mine in heart, by your own admission, I will not 
 resign the right you have given me. I told your 
 father this as my resolve. Will you, my dear Alice, 
 bear me out in that reply ? How tantaUzing was our 
 meeting this morning at church. I could only look
 
 264 god's providence house. 
 
 at you lovingly, with thoughts wandering widely from 
 the service, and hope for speech when the tedious 
 sermon was over. How brief was the clasp of that 
 dear hand, yet it thrilled through my whole frame. 
 How bitter it was to part from you with scarce the 
 words of common friendship, when my heart was in a 
 tumult with its hopes and fears. But, I grow selfish, 
 Alice, thus to ponder on my own sorrow, nor think of 
 yours. I saw the sad lines in your face, darling, and 
 knew that your trouble was akin to mine. Alice, my 
 own Alice, this cannot go on ; we must meet again, 
 and soon. Together we might decide on some plan to 
 reverse your father's harsh decision. I cannot come 
 to you, the door is closed against me. Come hither, 
 Alice ; my mother's presence will sanction the visit in 
 the eyes of propriety, and I know she desires to see 
 you. If you do not come within a day or two, I shall 
 conclude you are a prisoner, or that these lines have 
 not reached your hand. I would be the last, dear 
 love, to counsel disobedience, and my dear mother 
 would never sanction that which is wrong, yet she 
 approves our loves, and preaches 'fidelity ' and 'trust 
 in Providence,' Come, Alice ; I shall remain within 
 the house, tortured with fears, until I see you. If you 
 love me, come. 
 
 " Thine, in love and fear, 
 
 " George Latham."
 
 WHAT WILL IT LEAD TO? 265 
 
 How often these loving lines were read and re-read ; 
 how many kisses were rained upon the signature, how 
 many tears fell over it, would be difficult to say, but 
 it is certain that the letter strengthened the young 
 girl's determination to have a final interview with the 
 writer, if but to part for ever, a result she dreaded 
 next to death. 
 
 When Alice returned to the long room, her father 
 was in the shippons, but had left Mr. Heywood's 
 letter open for her perusal. Mrs. Ford, wlio was un- 
 folding a parcel, handed it to her, with the remark, 
 "Will not it be pleasant?" "Pleasant!" repeated 
 Alice, as she read these words : — 
 
 " My dear Mr. Ford, — Convey to ]\Irs, Ford and 
 your dear daughter the extreme gratification I have 
 in being at liberty to accept your kind invitaton for 
 Christmas. I was for some time apprehensive that 
 business would detain me in Manchester ; but I find 
 I can be spared, and lose no time in making you ac- 
 quainted with the, to me, agreeable fact. May I hope 
 that when I arrive at the Grange on Christmas Eve, 
 I shall find you all in health, and meet as warm a 
 reception from Miss Ford as I know your good lady 
 and yourself will extend to 
 
 " Yours in sincerity, 
 
 " Robert Heywood."
 
 266 god's providence house. 
 
 " Mother," said Alice, as she put the letter back on 
 the table, "do you really think it will be pleasant to 
 have Mr. Heywood here during the Christmas?" 
 
 ** Yes, my dear, I do ; he is a very agreeable, nice 
 young gentleman, and, as we have no society here, I 
 am sure we ought to be very glad he is coming to 
 dissipate the dulness of the place. Besides, he is 
 very greatly attached to you, and will, I am sure, do 
 all in his power to make his visit a delightful one." 
 
 ^'Oh, mother, mother, can you so forget your own 
 young days as to think it will be pleasant to sit and 
 listen to Mr. Heywood, to converse with him, to 
 dance, or sing, or play for his amusement, while my 
 heart is throbbing wildly for one I love dearly, who 
 is thrust aside to make room for that man, whom I all 
 but detest ? This visit will be anything but pleasant 
 to me." 
 
 " You will think differently soon, my child. George 
 Latham is, I own, a very attractive young gentleman, 
 and I have nothing to say against him ; but, then, he 
 is very young, and young men are very changeable. 
 And so are you very young. I dare say you will 
 forget all about him before long ; at least, I hope so ; 
 for your father has set his mind on having Mr. Hey- 
 wood for a son-in-law, and if you disappoint him, it 
 would be a great trouble to us both." 
 
 *' What should you have done, mother, if uncle 
 Luke had forbidden your marriage with father ?"
 
 WHAT WILL IT LEAD TO? 267 
 
 " Dear me, Alice, what a question ! I'm sure I don't 
 know. Uncle Luke did not want me to marry at all ; 
 but, then, your father was so pertinacious and so de- 
 termined, and I loved him so much, that uncle Luke 
 very soon gave way, for he was not very obstinate or 
 implacable." 
 
 " And my father is both ; there lies the difference. 
 Well, mother, it would be a great trouble to you if I 
 married Mr. Heywood, and we were badly matched ; 
 and to George Latham and myself the trouble would 
 be life-long. But if I never marry, I will not marry 
 Eobert Heywood ; and unless I marry George, I shall 
 die an old maid. So father and you will have to think 
 •Well about it. I love as my father loved, once and 
 for ever." 
 
 "Dear me, child, I am afraid your obstinacy and 
 your father's resolution will together cause a great 
 deal of unhappiness to us all. What a pity you 
 cannot be ruled by your good father's wishes," and 
 Margaret looked as much troubled as it was possible 
 for her to look. 
 
 " What is in that parcel, mother ?" said Alice, to 
 change the painful subject. 
 
 *' Oh, that is the dress Mr. Heywood made me a 
 present of; I must have it made up before he comes, 
 or he will think I set no store by it. I want you to 
 go to Shotwick and see if that school-fellow of yours, 
 Phoebe Horne^ can make it for me. If she served her
 
 268 god's providence house. 
 
 time with Mrs. Hopley, she ought to be a very excel- 
 lent mantua-maker ; and I do not want a couple of 
 journeys to Chester about a dress." 
 
 ^* When do you wish me to go ?" asked Alice, en- 
 deavouring to conceal her too palpable satisfaction. 
 
 "At once," replied her mother; there is not much 
 time to lose. Phoebe is likely to be busy just now for 
 Christmas, and it must be made. Suppose you go 
 as soon as dinner is over. And now I ])ethink me, 
 Alice, you had better go and see to the dinner, for 
 Betty is churning, and Sally's in the press-room skim- 
 ming the curds and straining off the whey. Sally 
 says the copper flue does not draw well, and she's in 
 a very ill-temper over it. So go and help dinner on, 
 that's a good girl." 
 
 Alice went accordingly, but had not been in the 
 bright kitchen many minutes when her mother called 
 her back into the adjoining room. '' See, Alice, what I 
 have found in the folds of this dress ; it is not mine ; 
 what is it ; do you think it of any consequence ?" said 
 she, holding up a letter. Alice opened and glanced 
 lightly over it ; then, saying, " No, I think it is only 
 waste paper," crushed it up in her hand as she re- 
 turned to the kitchen and tossed it into the ashes. 
 What was that sudden impulse which caused her 
 almost immediately to stoop and rescue the scorching 
 paper from the hot embers ? Why should she seek 
 to preserve that which she had just pronounced
 
 WHAT WILL IT LEAD TO? 269 
 
 " waste paper ?'' Had she been asked, she could not 
 have told. It was one of those inscrutable impulses 
 to which there i»no clue ; one of those minute pivots 
 on which lives hang, regarded by the thoughtless as 
 fortuitous circumstances, by the reflective as Providen- 
 tial interpositions. 
 
 Being busy just then, Alice put the paper in her 
 pocket as it was, thinking to examine it more closely 
 at her leisure ; and then, with her fingers deep in 
 flour and the mysteries of pie and pudding making, 
 forgot all about that letter for thinking of the one 
 lying close to her beating heart, and the other on the 
 parlour table. 
 
 Dinner was cooked and eaten ; and, whilst her 
 father strode about the new farmyard and stables 
 superintending the housing of provender and other 
 arrangements not yet completed, Alice, before her 
 new ova] swing glass, changed her dress, and tied 
 the strings of cloak and hat, more with the haste of 
 one to whom moments are precious, than the studious 
 or coquettish care which contemplates a conquest with 
 a curl. She was never vain, and now her heart was 
 troubled with weightier matters than her own ap- 
 pearance ; yet never had she been more lovely. Love 
 and thought at once gave lustre and depth to her soft 
 brown eyes ; expectant hope tinged her cheek with the 
 hue of a June rose ; anxiety parted the red lips, 
 giving a glimpse of pearly teeth beyond ; and her
 
 270 god's providence house. 
 
 decided purpose gave to her carriage more than its 
 common dignity. 
 
 Chartered with her mother's errand she stepped 
 from the portals of the Grange, trod with a firm 
 quick step the long straight gravelled drive, swung 
 back one heavy gate, and was out in the road, beyond 
 observation from the window ; and the dosing griffins 
 gave no alarm, for was she not a daughter of the house, 
 and privileged to come and go unquestioned ? Phoebe 
 was not at home, but as Ralph said, " Wur still at 
 th' Lodge wi Madame Latham." 
 
 Matthew Spark, lounging on the horse-block, with 
 a mug of ale by his hand, hearing the enquiry for the 
 innkeeper's pretty daughter, started up instantly, 
 saying respectfully, yet eagerl}^, '' I'll run to th' 
 Lodge for Phoebe, wi a' th' pleasure in th' world, if 
 Miss Ford has gotten aught for her to do." 
 
 "Thank you, I will go to her," replied Alice, 
 whose gratification at this opportune excuse, only 
 equalled Matthew's disappointment, for the black- 
 smith's heart could beat, even when his hammer lay 
 idle. 
 
 " Perhaps you will have the goodness to point out 
 the nearest way to the Lodge," said Alice, addressing 
 with a pleasant smile the knight of the leathern 
 apron and rueful countenance. 
 
 " Oi'll be downreeght proud to show you, Miss ; th' 
 road's as crook'd as a horse's shoen an' yo' moightn
 
 WHAT WILL IT LEAD TO? 271 
 
 tak' th' wrung turnin'. It wunne be th' least 
 trouble, it wunna indeed," affirmed Matthew, as she 
 expressed her disinclination to trouble him ; then 
 turning to Ealph he said, " An' yo' anny message for 
 Phcebe or anny on 'em up yonder. Mister Home ?" 
 indicating "up yonder" with a jerk of his turned 
 back thumb. 
 
 " Naw, I hanna annything to say — yea, tell the 
 lass that Whistler bolted last night, fleered wi' a bogle 
 in Shotwick lone. Dunna thee let Mister Latham hear, 
 or mebbe he'd — " ivhat — was expressed in a whisper 
 and a nod, and Alice hastened on with her guide — ^ 
 equally pleased — the lady and the rude blacksmith 
 with the slight excuse which served as a key to the 
 casket where love was shrined. Through the church- 
 yard he conducted her respectfully, down a by 
 lane, across a meadow, and thence through a rustic 
 alley, where in summer the high hedges almost met 
 overhead, to shade this '' lovers' w^alk," which termi- 
 nated at a tall green door, opening into the Latham 
 grounds, in the rear of the mansion. There Matthew 
 took leave of the young lady, making his questionable 
 message a pretext for a word with Phoebe, while Alice 
 hurried to the front entrance wdth a heart wdiich was 
 its own excuse. 
 
 The hall door was open, and George on the 
 broad top step, stood leaning with his arms folded 
 across the iron rail in front, looking down the drive
 
 2i'2 GODS PEOVIDENTE HOUSE. 
 
 with eyes that pierced the distance, watching far off 
 for the graceful figure so close at hand. And so 
 absorbed was he in lus earnest scrutiny of the wide 
 open gate, and the road beyond, that Alice mounted 
 the side steps and touched him ere he saw her. With 
 a delighted exclamation he clasped her in an impas- 
 sioned embrace, and drew her unresistingly into the 
 wide hall, and the room she remembered so weU. 
 There he told her how he had been watching wearily, 
 hopelessly for signs of her approach, all the dreary 
 day, and pressed her closer to his breast as he declared 
 his rapture at lier presence. As for Alice, but for his 
 supporting arm, she would have fallen ; she had 
 braved her father's ano^er in coming^, had nerved her- 
 self for the meeting : but when she was by his side, 
 in his embrace, under his own roof, a sense of impro- 
 priety, of a want of maidenly reserve, crossed her 
 mind for the first time, and in shame and confusion 
 she strove to release herself firom his arms, as she 
 enquired anidonsly for his mother. 
 
 " She is dozing by the fire in the drawing-room, 
 dear love, you shall see her presently. But what is 
 this ? Whv do vou strucraie to free yourself from mv 
 
 • CO « • 
 
 clasp ? Do you so soon regret the grace you have 
 accorded me ? You do not surely repent coming ?" 
 askeil he, releasing her, and speaking with laboured 
 breatk 
 
 " Indeed I do repent, dear George. I fear I have
 
 WHAT WILL IT LEAD TO ? 273 
 
 done wrong in seeking you here/' said she, sadly, with 
 downcast eyes. 
 
 *' Had we been differently circumstanced, Alice, 
 this might have been wrong ; but situated as we are, 
 dear love, no one with a spark of feeling could blame 
 us. Do not reproach yourself with that which fills 
 me with the deepest gratitude ; and do not look so 
 anxiously at the door, we need not yet disturb mother 
 (would we could say our mother), she will awake 
 presently, and then I will take you to her/' So saying 
 he led her once more to the sofa by the fire, and 
 though she opposed it at first, removed her hat and 
 cloak : then seatinsj himself bv her side, drew her head 
 upon his shoulder, and bending his own to look into 
 her eyes, or kiss her loving lips, the sunny chestnut 
 curls, and the black locks mingled once more, as did 
 their sighs and sympathies. 
 
 But this was not a meeting for endearment only, 
 the first blissful moments gone, serious thoughts and 
 anxious care filled their young minds. Her father s 
 determination and probable motives for discarding 
 him in favour of Mr. Heywood were seasoned and 
 debated ; next the threatened -sdsit ; and then came 
 the question of the future. 
 
 *•' I cannot meet you again, George, thus, nor at all, 
 unless my father's mood should change, and that is 
 far from likely. When he learns my visit here to-day 
 his displeasure will be great, I know ; and I cannot 
 
 VOL. r. T
 
 274 god's providence house, 
 
 repeat it. We must trust in each other, and in Time's 
 changes, under the directing hand of Providence. 
 You hare fiaith in mj constancy, have you not, dear 
 George T 
 
 -*•' Faith in your constancy, yes, but not in your 
 resolution ; I dread lest you should succumb to 
 coercion. Besides, there will be a handsome, and, 
 I fear, a wily man by your side, ready to take advan- 
 tage of every incident, every change of circumstance 
 or feeling, to warp your affection, or turn the current 
 in his own fiivour. I cannot endure the prospect of 
 that man's familiar presence by your side, his licensed 
 advances, the libeny of look and speech and touch 
 accorded by your parents, if not by yourself. Alice, 
 I see such a picture before me as drives me mad with 
 jealousy." And as he spoke, George Latham started 
 from the s«jfa, and paced the floor, with one hand 
 over his eyes, as though to shut out the sight he con- 
 templated. Alice sat silent, watching him with a sad 
 and troubled countenance, unknowing from what store 
 to impart consolation. " And what must be the end 
 of this, Alice?'' resumed he, pausing in his walk. 
 ' ' Am I to sit down quietly in this old hall, and brood 
 uver the pj^ble love-scenes at the Grange, tending 
 to as possible a marriage in the end, and make no 
 effort to break the speil, make no attempt to see you, 
 nor dare to repeat my claim ? By heaven, I will not ! 
 I should be a mouse and not a man. if I suffered a
 
 WHAT WILL IT LEAD TO t '1 . • • 
 
 rival to supplant me, while I sat tamely by and let 
 him woo." And as lie said this he strode about yet 
 more impatiently. 
 
 " George, you are unjust to me, and selfish : had I 
 foreseen this jealous outburst, I should have paused 
 before I dared my father's anger to come hither,'' 
 interrupted Alice, sadly, but proudly. 
 
 '*' Pardon me. Alice ; I do forget myself whenever 
 I think of our separation. We had been severed so 
 long, the bhss oi reunion was so new, and the cup of 
 joy had been dashed down so suddenly and roughly, 
 that I am almost beside mjrself, and may be both 
 selfish and unjust. Jealousy never yet was any other. 
 Forgive me, love !"' and he took her hand in his as he 
 resumed his seat by her side, and drew the rippling 
 curls again to his shoulder. 
 
 " The moments are slipping by very fast, dear 
 George,'' said she, '' and all I came to say is yer 
 unsaid. I do foi"give you, for love must pardon 
 jealousy ; yet tme love has faith in its object as in 
 itself. Never, never, dishonour my memory by 
 another doubt, however long we may be parted. 'Six. 
 Heywood will be nothing to me but a persecuting 
 shadow, and you must follow me with pity, not 
 jealous fancy. I have told ray father that I will not 
 marry him, and I mean to keep my word. Whether 
 I become your wife or not depends upon your- 
 self." 
 
 t2
 
 '2tb GODS IKOVIDENCE HOUSE. 
 
 *• If I could only feel assured of that," ejaculated 
 lie. a gleam of bope lighting up his countenance. 
 
 •• You may ! 1 will mairy none other, believe me. 
 If your fidelity only equals mine, and your patience. 
 I shall be yours some day, however far oflf that day 
 mav be. So take heart, dear Georsre, and all mav 
 yet be well/' said AHce, looking up into his face with 
 an encouraging smile. 
 
 " My darling Alice, you shame me : I was fool 
 enough to mistake your self-control for indifference. 
 I can promise fidelity, but patience, Alice — don't ask 
 it. I exhausted all my stock in the past two years : 
 it is a lesson I shall hardly learn again. I have tasted 
 the delirious joy of your acknowledged love, and 
 j)atience imder separation now, and for an indefinite 
 time, is not to be thought of. I will think of you 
 ever with the purest devotion, the strongest faith, but 
 p-itience, my Alice, under such a trial is not in the 
 list of my virtues. Patience I the very word sounds 
 like mockery. 1 cannot be patient I" and as he 
 said so, there was a hopeless despondence in his 
 tone, indicating the trial separation would be to 
 him. But a cheerful light overspread his face as 
 he added, '' We shall at least, dear Alice, meet at 
 church each week, if only as friends, and we may 
 writ« to each other ; that will be some solace in 
 aObe'.ce." 
 
 " ^'ns ! no ; my father threatens to burn anv letters
 
 WHAT WILL IT LEAD 10 f 'lit 
 
 you send. He hesitated to give aie the one I have/' 
 was her mournful response. 
 
 •'' Then he must not have the opportunity. I will 
 find a messenger. Does 3Ir. Ford employ any of the 
 villagers ?" 
 
 " Yes. 3Iatthew Spark and Jliles Wood have both 
 been working for him ; and my excuse for leaving 
 the house now was to engage Phoebe to make a 
 dress for mother. But that reminds me. there was a 
 singfular letter causfht between the folds of the silk ; 
 this is it." As Alice spoke she drew from her side- 
 pocket (a separate article of apparel, not changed 
 with the dressj the crumpled episde. and opened it 
 for re-examination. Sitting side by side as they did. 
 George's eye glanced over it with hers, but as he 
 read his gaze seemed riveted upon the paper, and 
 his very lips grew white. 
 
 " Where did you get this, Alice ?"' inquired he, 
 after a pause, and with low deliberate tone, and some 
 anxiety. 
 
 '• Between the folds of a silk dress 3Ir. Heywood 
 gave to mother. But what do you see in the letter 
 to agitate you so ?" 
 
 " You have heard of my profligate uncle, who 
 caused Mistress Grenville's death, have you not ?'' 
 
 " Certainly ; but what connection has he with that 
 letter ?'' 
 
 "' He wrote it, Alice ; I could swear to the hand
 
 278 god's pkoviden'ce house. 
 
 among a thousand. The peculiar capitals, and sprawl- 
 intr irreq:ularitT, are unmistakable. And what con- 
 nection has he with ^r. Heywood ? If any, then is 
 3Ir. Heywood a bad man indeed, one to be doubted 
 and watched — watched closely. Let us read it again, 
 iny love, and together ' strive to solve the strange 
 enigma.'' 
 
 It was the letter Mr. Heywood had found waiting 
 ac the Northwich post-office, and the superscription 
 identified it with himself, the postmarks gave it date 
 and locality, but the correspondence was too carefully 
 couched in double-meaning to be understood without 
 a clue. George, however, read and commented. 
 
 " * Snow has melted, and the dust is laid I' There 
 was no snow in October. ' Welsh flannels to hand, 
 marketable at a premium.' " 
 
 '• Oh, those were goods delayed on the road, for 
 which he bad bartered others in Chester fair," ex- 
 plained AUce. 
 
 *' Perhaps, my dear. I doubt everything that 
 comes under my uncle's pen. ' What of the new 
 speculation ? How long had he known you, Alice ?" 
 asked George, sharply. 
 
 " Only two days !" 
 
 *•' Only two days ; then the ' ^peeulation ' could 
 scarcely be an allusion to you — scarcely : yet my uncle 
 is a thorough villain — and who knows/' mused George, 
 pondering the mysterious document.
 
 WHAT WILL IT LEAD TO ? 279 
 
 *• Who knows ichat, George ?" 
 
 *' How great a rascal Mr. Heywood may be ! Alice. 
 you had better leave this paper with me — it may be 
 useful. Uncle Jefirey may have done us a good turn 
 unwittingly ; it will be the first good thing he ever 
 did in his life if he has. I must watch ^h. Heywood, 
 and guard you, if necessary, from his schemes, for I 
 feel sure now, he is not an upright tradesman. And 
 you must not scruple to write to me, my dearest ; 
 Phoebe will be a true and sure emissar}'. She is to be 
 trusted with an^-tliing but men's hearts, and those are 
 playthings in her coquettish little hands. She holds 
 two in thrall now — more's the pity. AYill you, Alice, 
 promise to correspond with me thus ?" 
 
 " I will think of it, George ; I do not believe your 
 mother would approve of the clandestine intercourse. 
 But I have outstayed my time far, I must see her at 
 once — and Phoebe." 
 
 Sadly acquiescing in the necessity for her departure, 
 he led her to his mother, who rose, with surprise and 
 pleasure, to greet her on her entrance. Alice threw 
 her arms round the kind old lady's neck, and wept the 
 tears hitherto restrained. She lacked the support and 
 counsel of such a mother, and unconsciously to herself 
 her heart made the discovers-, and an invidious dis- 
 tinction. To Mrs. Latham she apologized for her 
 seeming discourt-esy, in avoiding Latham Lodge, on 
 the strong ground of her father's interdict ; and
 
 280 god's trovidence house. 
 
 deprecated harsh judgment on that visit — with the 
 plea of necessity and urgency. How much was she 
 consoled when the old lady, smoothing down her 
 glossy hair, as she held her by her side, said quietly : 
 " Filial obedience, my dear daughter (I will still call 
 you so), is a great duty, but there is a point beyond 
 which duty cannot pass, and obedience becomes weak- 
 ness, if not absolutely culpable. I trust, Alice, your 
 father will not strain authority to that point, when 
 disobedience becomes a necessity. I may not invite 
 you hither again in the face of your father's will, nor 
 can I advise you to meet my son under such unfavour- 
 able auspices ; but as I know him worthy of a good, 
 true woman's love, I say be faithful to him, and all 
 may yet be better than the present promises." 
 
 She seemed in doubt about a secret correspondence, 
 until George displayed the letter rescued from the 
 ashes, and explained how it was obtained. Then, 
 without hesitation, she bade Alice communicate to 
 her son all she could glean respecting Mr. Heywood, 
 even apparent trifles. 
 
 Phoebe was now called in, and with much diflSculty 
 was prevailed upon to wait on Mrs. Ford the next day, 
 her terror of the Grange being not overcome by the 
 fact of its colonization. No inducement would suffice 
 to take her there that afternoon now the twilight was 
 deepening. 
 
 Tea was brought in, but Alice would not remain,
 
 WHAT WILL IT LEAD TO? 281 
 
 and so George Latham hastily thrust his arms in his 
 great coat, and assumed his right to escort and guard 
 her home. It was a sad walk that, and would have 
 been sadder but for the discovery they had made ; for 
 George, ever sanguine, held it to be hopeful in its 
 auguries for himself, if used rightly, to confound Mr. 
 Heywood, and open Michael's eyes. The plantation 
 was dark, but they were too much engrossed in each 
 other to heed the gloom ; for the bitter agony of that 
 terrible and uncertain parting shut out trivialities, 
 leaving nothing but the dismal blank of separation 
 before them. How they tore themselves apart, and 
 said farewell at last ; with what lingering kisses, what 
 tones and looks of anguish, let those recall who have 
 loved as well, and parted as painfully. Those whose 
 lives have been smooth, and loves sunny, could not 
 understand, if it were mirrored before them.
 
 282 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 phcebe's puzzle. 
 
 From the troubles of George Latham and Alice, we 
 may revert, by natural transition, to the perplexities 
 of preity Phoebe Home, and her tvvo rustic admirers, 
 whom she encouraged or repulsed according as her fitful 
 moods alternated, and kept in a continual state of 
 suspense as to her ultimate intentions regarding them, 
 until at length she was no wise clear in her own mind 
 on the subject, and became not a little perplexed how 
 to decide so as to deliver herself from a dilemma. 
 
 When Madame Latham, compassionating the or- 
 phan girl's situation, neglected education, and want of 
 proper companionship, sent her to the Misses Briscoe's 
 school, it was not with the intention of fitting her for 
 a sphere beyond her own, but simply to remove her 
 from the great risk of moral contamination, and 
 enable her to acquire that elementary knowledge 
 necessary for any station, and which her own mother 
 would have doubtless imparted had she lived. But
 
 phcebe's puzzle. 283 
 
 when she returned home finally for the " long vacation," 
 and Madame Latham saw that she was endowed with 
 much more dangerous gifts than the " little learning," 
 pronounced so dangerous by Pope, that she was, in 
 short, not a little pretty — and just a little vain, the 
 good lady felt that a country inn was about one of 
 the worst homes for her, so long as she had no per- 
 manent occupation to keep her aloof from the 
 customers — whether country clowns or country squires 
 — the manners and morals of neither, at that period, 
 being in general much above par. With a view to 
 remove Phoebe from such associates, and much temp- 
 tation, the good lady placed her in Mrs. Hopley's 
 workroom, paying a heavy premium for the initiation 
 of the girl into the art and mysteries of fashionable 
 dressmaking. From the realms of brocade and taffeta, 
 Phoebe emerged, quite as pretty, not less vain, and, 
 moreover, somewhat coquettish to boot. This, Madame 
 Latham observed with much regret and some appre- 
 hension, and many were the quiet lectures she bestowed 
 on her protege to counteract these evil influences. 
 
 It might have been supposed that so sage and 
 prudent a matron would have kept this pretty village 
 belle as far apart from her only and idolized son as 
 possible ; and, probably, had his heart been to her a 
 " sealed book," such would have been her endeavour, 
 but she knew there was a talisman in his breast which 
 made him Phoebe-proof; and, so the girl spent much
 
 284 god's providence house. 
 
 of her time at the Lodge, either with Madame Latham 
 or at work in the housekeeper's room. But, if there 
 was a love -shield over the heart of George Latham, 
 there were those in the village not quite so impene- 
 trable ; and, occasional travellers passing through the 
 village, and stopping to bait at the Black Bear, fell 
 at times into the trap pretty Phoebe's dimples set for 
 the unwary. 
 
 Of all her conquests, the two most conspicu- 
 ous were Matthew Spark and Miles Wood ; but, 
 whether she smiled on both with equal complacency, 
 whether she regarded both with equal favour, or had 
 no particular regard for either, not the wisest gossip in 
 Shotwick could venture to decide. Phoebe liked 
 flattery, and had had more than her share while at 
 Mrs. Hopley's, and that too from beaus and dandies 
 rejoicing in noble titles ; for the dressmaker, though in 
 her own person plain to primness, worked for the 
 noted Lady Grosvenor, and for those lords and ladies 
 who visited Eaton Hall during the races, elections, or 
 other busy times ; for lords had ruffles and frills to be 
 hemmed or tamboured, and vests to be embroidered : 
 and, many a lace-ruffled, periwigged coxcomb, had 
 presumed to put his jewelled fingers under the 
 dimpled chin of the blushing seamstress in the show- 
 room, and vow she was " vastly pretty, demme." 
 
 But Mrs. Hopley was too strict a disciplinarian to 
 permit such advances unchecked. And, any attempt
 
 rHOEBE's PUZZLE. 285 
 
 at familiarity with one of the damsels in her employ, 
 invariably resulted in the instant dismissal of the girl 
 to the work-room, while she gave intimation to the 
 gentleman, whatever his rank, that she " permitted no 
 freedoms of that kind in her house " {establishments 
 are modern inventions.) Mrs. Hopley's prudential 
 precautions, however, though they might serve to 
 keep her apprentices out of the reach of lawless 
 libertinism, could not prevent these little items of 
 flattery swelling up a long bill in the ledger of vanity, 
 and so little Miss Home, in feeble imitation of the 
 aristocratic belles who languished or flirted in her 
 presence at Mrs. Hopley's, alternately smiled or 
 frowned, froze or thawed, until both her rustic ad- 
 mirers were driven almost to desperation. 
 
 In different men, the same causes work different 
 effects ; thus, that which drew Matthew Spark from 
 the smithy to the Black Bear drove Miles Wood 
 from the inn, and kept him in his own work-shed. 
 Leaving the fire in his forge to die out, and his irons 
 to cool, Matthew, drawn by the irresistibly attractive 
 glances of Phoebe's eyes, hovered about the inn, 
 adding, with every glimpse of his enslaver, fresh fuel 
 to his flaming heart, which not all the ale he so 
 freely imbibed had power to extinguish. Not so the 
 wheelwright. Miles had some common sense under 
 the rough crust of his external man ; and, he argued, ' 
 that if Phoebe smiled upon him, it was because of her
 
 286 god's phovidexce house. 
 
 own kindness and good nature, not on account of his 
 deserts, nor of any liking for him — for was she not 
 pretty, and book-learned, and mannered, and well- 
 spoken like a lady? and had she not a business in 
 her fingers that would keep her amongst ladies, even 
 before her father found money to " set her up for 
 herself in Chester ?' And was she not pretty enough 
 to marry a squire ? if so be, she had a mind, to 
 say nothing of Ralph's money-bags, which alone 
 might make her look higher than an ignorant, 
 country wheelwright. Ignorant! ah, there was the 
 rub. She was sure to despise a chap who could 
 hardly spell his name or read his catechism, and 
 could neither write nor cipher, however good-looking 
 he might be, or however good a hand at his trade. 
 And, as he became conscious that every time he saw 
 her, he became more hopelessly entangled, and that 
 she smiled alike on himself and his brawny rival, he 
 resolved to distance his competitor after a new fashion, 
 and was secretly gaining ground in the race, whilst to 
 outer seeming he almost abandoned the course to 
 3Iatthew. But this feeling with which he was 
 thoroughly imbued, that the pretty and educated 
 Phoebe must despise two ignorant country lads like 
 himself and Mat Spark, left no room for jealousy. 
 And, every time he saw the smith come home from 
 the Black Bear, he felt less tendency to be jealous, 
 and only said to himself, that Mat was dro^^^ling every
 
 phcebe's puzzle. 287 
 
 spark of a chance with Phoebe. Whether he was 
 right or wrong has yet to be seen. 
 
 Actuated by the same desire to win the love of 
 fascinating Phoebe, yet these two young men pursued 
 widely different paths. I^fatthew followed her per- 
 severingly like her shadow, would do her bidding 
 like a lap-dog, drinking and neglecting his business 
 solely because he thought the way to Phoebe was 
 through her father's open door ; and once within the 
 magic circle of her smiles, he was powerless to stir. 
 
 Miles — loving her no less, respecting himself more — 
 kept to his business perseveringly, was frequent in his 
 evening attendance on the clerk and curate, and 
 after a time began to make periodical trips to 
 Chester, generally starting at three o'clock on 3Ionday 
 afternoon, and returning late in the evening. As a 
 matter of course he was seen less frequently on the 
 long settle at the Black Bear, and his meetings 
 with Phoebe under her father's roof became fewer. 
 But, as if to compensate for the loss of glances dimly 
 discernible through the reek of tobacco-smoke, as he 
 passed through the churchyard on his way to the 
 curate's house, he not seldom had the luck (good or 
 ill) to meet Phoebe returning from Madame Latham's, 
 and if she happened to be in a gracious mood, she 
 might perchance permit him to relieve her of a basket 
 or parcel, and walk by her side to her own door, 
 according her permission with an air of condescension
 
 288 god's pkovidexce house. 
 
 and afiectation of dignity, which sat very prettily 
 upon the spoiled little beauty, but would have been 
 arrant absurdity in a common-place country girl. 
 But Phoebe did not esteem herself a country girl ; 
 half her airs were traceable to the semi- fashionable 
 city, and the very fashionable people with whom she 
 had come, humbly enough, into contact; and when 
 she treated her rustic lovers with scorn, or stooped to 
 accept their attentions from the lofty height of her 
 self-conceit, she only aped her betters. The little 
 wayward coquette really felt herself superior to her 
 unlettered admirers in education as in everything 
 else; so Miles was not far wrong in his conjectures, 
 and the girl had a little more reason to keep her 
 swains at a distance than may at first sight appear. 
 
 Education, however, will neither give cool heads 
 nor warm hearts, nor common sense, nor will it out- 
 weigh these more valuable attributes, however it may 
 increase their value. ^latthew's heart was warm and 
 true, but he lacked discretion to guide it ; and so 
 Phcebe played the tyranness over him ; but the cool 
 head and common sense of Miles came to the rescue 
 of his soft and susceptible heart, just in time to keep 
 him from makincr the fool of himself his less discreet 
 
 o 
 
 rival seemed so proud to become. 
 
 The wheelwright's cottage and work- shed were 
 situated at the extremity of the village, and the 
 smithy stood close beside it, as though for the mutual
 
 phcebe's puzzle. 289 
 
 convenience of the handicraftsmen, and their em- 
 ployers. The cottage of Miles Wood sheltered, 
 besides himself, his widowed mother, and a sister 
 about eighteen, a blooming country girl, very closely 
 resembling her brother, but in no ways striking 
 either in face' or figure. He had always been com- 
 mended for his conduct towards these two ; he in- 
 variably supported the steps of his mother when on 
 Sunday s she tottered, rather than walked, to her seat 
 in the old church, and not even the captivating- 
 glances of Phoebe could call him from his filial task, 
 until he had safely deposited her in the arm-chair by 
 the cottage door, or in winter by the fireside. Then 
 he maintained his sister and mother entirely by his 
 own labour, the former repaying him wiih true- 
 hearted affection, and care for his domestic comfort ; 
 for not a house in all Shotwick had cleaner TNdndows 
 and floors, whiter platters, or brighter oak-chairs and 
 tables : and if the brother's home-spun shirts were 
 coarse, they were as white as good washing could 
 make them. His mother was too feeble for active 
 exertion, but she sat and knitted coarse grey stockings 
 for her son, and their neighbours, or spun the flax for 
 their household linen. 
 
 This was the state of their household about the 
 time when Michael Ford came into possession of the 
 Grange, and somewhere about the same time com- 
 menced the weekly visits of Miles to Chester ; then 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 god's providexck house. 
 
 Miles hired a horse from Ralph Home, and mounting 
 his sister Jane on a pillion behind him, with her few 
 belongings in a bundle before him, trotted off down 
 the Shotwick lane, and took the road to Chester, to 
 the astonishment of the slow-to-move population, and 
 the bewilderment of the gossips, to whom he had not 
 thought proper to impart his business on that occasion, 
 any more than the motive which took him every 
 Monday in the same direction. Good-natured neigh- 
 lx)urs were kind enough to say that he was tired of 
 keeping his sister, and had taken her to service in 
 Chester to make way for a wife he was about to bring 
 home ; but, as usual, rumour lied vilely. His own 
 business was not the charitably-imagined one of 
 courtship, nor did he take his sister away to get rid of 
 her. True to himself and his well-grounded belief, 
 he had been steadily endeavouring to overcome the 
 deficiency of education ; from the clerk and clergyman 
 he had received instruction, but the former had not 
 been overtaught himself, and the curate could not 
 spare all the time Miles was anxious to employ, so 
 once a week he sought a skilful master, and under 
 his care battled ^vith the difficulties in the path of 
 knowledge, now kicked aside easily by children of 
 nine or ten. Having thought learning necessary to 
 fit him to aspire to Phoebe, he felt it as necessary for 
 Jane to be fitted to be their companion on equal 
 terms, and not only that, but seeing the independence
 
 phcebe's puzzle. 291 
 
 a trade imparted to the innkeeper's daughter, he 
 resolved she shonkl have one too, and when he 
 trotted to Chester with his blooming sister behind 
 him, he was conveying her to a new home in a 
 respectable family, where she would learn the new 
 and brisk trade of straw hat and bonnet making, 
 and besides, have leisure to attend an evening 
 school. 
 
 These plans could not be carried out without 
 money ; but Miles had been frugal ; the trade his father 
 left him had steadily increased ; and at this time he 
 had about thirty guineas laid by against a rainy day ; 
 so that he could well afford to pay a small fee with 
 Jane, as well as for her schooling, and also to engage 
 a young woman to supply in a measure his sister's 
 place at home. 
 
 With a simple-minded purpose, that of rendering 
 himself what he considered worthy of the rare object 
 of his rarer attachment, it never occurred to him that 
 the change in his habits would produce any immediate 
 effect upon Phoebe; but he estimated her beyond 
 her real value^ and Regarded as pardonable pride 
 that which was sheer coquetry and love of admi- 
 ration. Not but what there were some good pro- 
 perties deep down in her woman's heart, but so 
 many straws swam on the surface, one could not see 
 the bright pebbles gleaming below. 
 
 The alacrity with which Miles Wood had responded 
 
 u2
 
 292 god's providence house. 
 
 to her wish, and carried the basket of provisions to the 
 haunted Grange when 3Ir. Ford and ^Ir. Peover went 
 to make their survey, had completely reinstated the 
 young man in her favour (not the less readily perhaps 
 because she was pleased to construe 3Iatthew Spark's re- 
 luctant '• could not," into " would not") ; and so, after 
 service on the following Sunday morning, she tripped 
 home from church by the side of old dame Wood and 
 her son ; and furthermore, vouchsafed the information 
 that she was " expected at the lodge that afternoon, and 
 didn't mean Matthew Spark to take her there, though 
 she supposed he would be ready enough to thrust him- 
 self where he was not wanted." And when Miles, 
 acting on the hint, asked if she had any objection to 
 his company on the road, the scornful toss of the head 
 which pointed her renunciation of Matthew Spark's 
 companionship was not repeated ; but a sidelong 
 glance and faint simper accompanied the words, 
 drawled out very slowly, '• No, not any that I know of 
 just at present ; you can come if you have nothing 
 better to do." 
 
 An\-thing better to do I Ah, the sly young gipsy 
 knew he had *' nothing better to do," but would be 
 sure to meet her before she reached the churchyard 
 gate ; and so, conscious of her own importance in 
 having one beau to play off against another, she 
 would not condescend even to turn her head in the 
 direction of the smithy as she passed it. though she
 
 phcebe's puzzle. 293 
 
 had seen the owner leaning expectantly against the 
 closed shutter. Nor when he followed her down the 
 village to her father's door, and asked her very humbly 
 " What han oi dun amiss, Miss Phoebe, as yo' wunna 
 oven,^look at un : yo' knaw oi'd go th' warld's end to 
 please yo' !" 
 
 " Those who are not willing to come when they are 
 wanted, had better keep back when they are not 
 wanted, Mr. Spark !" and another contemptuous toss 
 of the pretty head followed her reply, as she entered 
 the house and left him standing by the step, too 
 stupidly abashed to answer until she was out of 
 hearing. 
 
 " But oi could na leave th' horse half shod ; oi wish 
 tho' oi had'n now," added he, dejectedly, to himself, as 
 with a sigh he too entered the house, and called for 
 " a mug o' yale," with the double purpose of washing 
 out his repulse, and watching for an opportunity to 
 win Phoebe over to kindness. 
 
 Quite a mistake on Matthew's part, quite. From 
 behind the curtain of a little one-paned window, 
 serving as a post of observation from the bar-parlour 
 into the generalroom, Phoebe watched the disconsolate 
 looks of the rebuffed swain with the rejoicing of a 
 successful general after a victory, but without one 
 atom of compassion for the wounded. Ha4 Matthew 
 broken a leg, or an arm, or even a finger, Phoebe would 
 have been truly sorr}-, and ready to sympathize with
 
 294 god's providence house. 
 
 the sufferer, or nurse him to health, but if he only 
 broke his heart, that would not matter much! It 
 would only be a greater tribute to the power of her 
 charms ! Perhaps it would be only charitable to sup- 
 pose the damsel had never thought seriously ^bout 
 consequences, when slie strove to captivate all the 
 young men within reach of her smiles, more especially 
 the t^vo village artizans, with whom she played her 
 game of " fast and loose" so very pleasantly. She 
 might never have read the fable of the ''Boys and 
 Frogs," or if she had, might not have thought that 
 sweet smiles, and tones, and glances, might be as 
 dangerous missiles aimed at tender hearts, as the stones 
 \vitli which the playful boys belaboured the soft backs 
 of the poor frogs. Perhaps after all she only wanted 
 thought ; but in cases of this nature that is a very 
 serious want indeed. 
 
 With his mug of ale before him, Matthew waited in 
 the vain hope of speech with Phoebe, though his dinner 
 was also waiting and spoiling at home, whither he had 
 better have gone, since he only waited for an additional 
 heartache ; for if Miles was not jealous, he was; and 
 as he watched the scarlet cloak, the dress of changeable 
 silk, and the broad-brimmed black silk hat from the 
 door, thinking the wearer as changeable as her dress ; 
 when he saw her meet his rival merrily, and trip away 
 with her hand on his arm along the path she had trod 
 the previous Sunday with himself, he went back to
 
 phcebe's puzzle. 295 
 
 the long settle and his ale, and sat there dinnerless, 
 moody, and sullen the rest of the day. 
 
 Very pleasant to Miles was that afternoon stroll. 
 The bright eyes and rosy cheeks were inexpressibly 
 bewitching. Seldom had Phoebe striven to make her- 
 self so agreeable ;- but the fact is, she had been some- 
 what piqued by the continued absence of Miles from 
 the house she called her home, and was interested to 
 learn what could possibly be the object which so 
 occupied his time that he had none to spare for love- 
 making. The readiness with which he obeyed her 
 sovereign behests, and at her bidding shouldered 
 a basket for Mr. Ford, in defiance of the ghost, in- 
 clined her to the belief that his sequestration arose 
 from causes independent of herself; and as some 
 little mystery had attached to his late movements, 
 female curiosity impelled her to an effort to penetrate 
 his secret. Besides, it must be admitted that if she 
 had an undiscovered leaning to either of her lovers it 
 was in favour of M les. The hard study (of which 
 she knew nothing) pursued late at night, when all 
 around were abed, supplementing the manual labour 
 of the day, had stolen some of the colour from his 
 cheeks, though he was still healthy and robust, as such 
 a worker need be. Then he had grown a shade more 
 thoughtful and retiring, whilst Matthew, on the con- 
 trary, only grew redder in the face, more burly in 
 figure, more noisy, and more assiduous ; and, as
 
 29'7 god's providence house. 
 
 Phoebe was just the one to advance towards a retreat- 
 ing lover, and retire from a pursuing one, the clue to 
 her conduct is easily followed. 
 
 Without knowing anything of Mahomet or his 
 doctrines, Miles was in the seventh heaven of delight 
 that blissful Sunday afternoon, at the gracious manner 
 of the pretty plague whom he certainl)^ loved with 
 his whole heart ; and was only restrained from telling 
 her so, by the dread of a repulse on account of his 
 ignorance, and by the common sense which bade him 
 wait till he had a better vantage ground. 
 
 Madame Latham, albeit unaware of his higher aims 
 and aspirations, regarded him with somewhat more 
 complacency than she accorded to the blacksmith, for 
 looking upon the latter as a tippler, and having 
 no such charge to lay at the young wheelwright's 
 door, she came to look upon him as something less 
 objectionable than the other, not altogether suited as 
 a mate for her winsome favourite, but the better, far 
 the better of the twain. Observing him from a stair- 
 case window cooling his heels in the kitchen garden, 
 through which lay the path to the servants' door, 
 the old lady sent a messenger to him ; and on his 
 entrance into the servants' hall, after some kindly 
 inquiries about his aged mother and his sister, desired 
 that in future whenever Phoebe chose to permit his 
 attendance thither, he would enter the house, and 
 there wait her time to return. Phoebe, she said, had
 
 pucebe's puzzle. 297 
 
 no right to accept the escort of any man she was 
 ashamed to be seen with ; nor had any well-meaning, 
 straiofhtforward man either right or reason to skulk 
 outside her son's door as though ashamed to show his 
 face within it. But to Phoebe in her own parlour she 
 spoke a little more plainly, and endeavoured to elicit 
 from the capricious young maiden her intentions with 
 respect to the young men she kept dangling after her, 
 apparently with no other motive than the gratification 
 of her own love of admiration ; and she read her a sharp 
 homily on the folly and selfishness of her conduct. 
 
 This was by no means the first time she had 
 favoured Phoebe with an extempore sermon on the 
 right of mankind to consideration at the hands of the 
 young and pretty of her own sex; and the duty of 
 every woman so to act that the deeds of her youth 
 should never cause a blush in maturity or age, to act 
 from principle not self-will or caprice ; and to regard 
 the feelings of others as sacred as her own. But it 
 was the first time she put the point blank question to 
 her. 
 
 *' Phoebe, do you love either of these young men 
 well enough to become his wife ? Stop !" continued 
 she, arresting the girl's stammering speech. *' Stop, I 
 do not mean, do you love well enough to go to church, 
 and be made much of at a w^edding feast, and be 
 called by his name ; but ^vell enough to become the 
 constant companion of his home, the partner of his
 
 298 god's providence house. 
 
 cares and anxieties, as well as his joys, well enough 
 to settle down as a sober housewife by his cottage 
 fireside, and remain there cheerful and faithful from 
 youth to age ? If you do not, and I scarcely think 
 you do, you are doing a very wicked thing in mis- 
 leading him to think so." 
 
 Playing with the string of her hat, and twiddling 
 the ribbons over her fingers, Phoebe essayed to reply, 
 and in a tone that was neither a pout nor a whimper, 
 but akin to both, stammered out — 
 
 " Pm not going to be married, madam." 
 
 " I did not ask if you were going to be married ; 
 but if you felt inclined and fit to become the wife of 
 one of these country mechanics," was the lady's quick 
 retort, with more severity of manner than was usual 
 with her. 
 
 " I am sure, madam, I've not thought about being 
 married, I'm sure I have not," was the whimpering 
 response. 
 
 ^' Then it is quite time you did, and thought seri- 
 ously about it too, for if I am not much mistaken 
 both these rustic sweethearts of yours, Phoebe, have 
 thought of marriage for some time, and whichever 
 you refuse will feel the disappointment keenly. 
 
 " I am sure, Madame Latham, I cannot help 
 Matthew Spark running after me. I've told him, 
 many and many a time, I did not want him after me, 
 and I cared nothing about him ; but he will follow
 
 phcebe's puzzle. 299 
 
 me wherever T go. I can't help it if he will be so 
 silly." 
 
 *' Not help it, child ? Did I not see you go home 
 last Sunday, looking up into his face as if you loved 
 him ; and to-day, after the lapse of only a week, you 
 come on another sweetheart's arm, with glances just 
 as alluring, and, I suppose, as false. Phoebe, I am 
 ashamed of you ! Your mother was a decorous, pru- 
 dent woman ; and, if she had lived, her example 
 might have taught you at least modesty and self- 
 respect. As it is, poor child, you have been left too 
 much to your own giiidance, and so I must not be 
 over harsh with you, I suppose. Still, I must say, 
 Phoebe, my dear, that it is not proper for a young 
 girl to be constantly taking solitary rambles with a 
 young man who is not her acknowledged sweetheart, 
 whom she is pledged to marry ; and, as you cannot 
 marry both, one at least of these men has no right to 
 be the companion of your walks." 
 
 Phoebe hung her head, and wiped her eyes, for the 
 spoiled child was not accustomed to reproof, and 
 sobbed out : 
 
 " I am sure I meant no harm !" 
 
 " You might mean no harm' ; but, my girl, there 
 is harm in all impropriety, and, I beg that, from 
 this time forth, you will act as beseems your dead 
 mother's daughter. Think seriously, and at once dis- 
 card or decline the attentions of whichever of these
 
 800 
 
 young men you are averse to, or both, if you cannot 
 resign yourself to be the dutiful and attached wife of 
 an utterly uneducated man. Young giils want judg- 
 ment and reflection, and so I will give you my im- 
 pression as a guide for your own careful consideration. 
 Matthew Spark is, I fear, too constant a frequenter of 
 your father's house to make a sober or good husband. 
 Miles Wood is a good son, and a good brother ; steady, 
 frugal, and industrious, and though not educated, even 
 as you are, you might go farther and fare worse. I 
 say this to direct your choice, if it has yet to be made ; 
 but unless you love one, I beg you will at once cease 
 to encourage either ! Be here on Tuesday, Phoebe, 1 
 require some neckerchiefs hemmed, and a calesh 
 making, and other things, so tell your father you w^ill 
 remain the week. Now, go to the housekeeper's 
 room, and tell Mrs. Emer}^ to invite Miles Wood to 
 tea with you, and go home at once after tea, and, 
 remember — let there be no more triflincr !" 
 
 '• Phcebe curtsied demurely, and retired ; not very 
 much bettered by the advice of her patroness, but 
 rather inclined to revolt against the dictation. Ac- 
 customed to consult only her own sweet will, and to 
 regard herself infallible, the reproof was somewhat 
 unsavoury ; still, it had one good effect, it set her 
 thinking; and thought, persistent thought, comes 
 near to truth in the long run. However, she walked 
 home with Allies a very little more thoughtfully, but
 
 phgebe's puzzle, 301 
 
 still bent on discovering how he occupied his evenings, 
 and failing to obtain a direct repl}^ to round-about 
 questions, by the time she reached the Black Bear 
 her equanimity was quite upset, and she took leave of 
 Milas as pettishly as a thwarted child. 
 
 If she rejoiced in the morning, she was sufficientlv 
 annoyed now : Madame Latham had taken her to 
 task ; she had. not learned what Miles did in his 
 leisure hours, and he had not said he was in love with 
 her, though she had given him many opportunities ; 
 and so she was provoked and displeased with herself, 
 
 and 3 riles, and Madame Latham, and evervthino-, and 
 
 ' ' .,0- 
 
 everybody, and cried herself to sleep like the baby she 
 was. 
 
 As the days went by, and 3Lles continued his 
 ^Monday trips to Chester ; vague rumours reached her 
 ears that he was courting a young lass in the city, and 
 she became more than ever annoyed to think she had 
 looked favourably on one who did not care for her — but 
 what did it matter ? — she did not care for him either ; 
 it was nothing to her whom he courted, or where he 
 went ; there were better sweetheai'ts than he to be found 
 anywhere ; she cared nothing about him — not she ! 
 And the more she strove to convince herself that she 
 did not care for Miles Wood, the more she found herself 
 wondering if it was all true ; if he really was courting 
 some one else ; and what he meant by squeezing her 
 hand so hard as they came out of church, if he was
 
 302 god's providence house. 
 
 courting any one besides herself? and why he looked so 
 reproachfully when she snubbed him, and took up with 
 Matthew out of spite ? Ah, Phoebe ! that w^as an ad- 
 mission to yourself; but spite is a will-o'-the-wisp, and 
 apt to lead into sad quagmires ! 
 
 In the midst of her bewilderment with Miles and 
 Matthew, she was called to the Grange to wait upon 
 Alice Ford, and in the excitement of meeting an 
 old schoolfellow, in the person of one of the new 
 tenants of the Grange, she for a time forgot her little 
 perplexities, and became a rational being. It must be 
 told that she regarded Alice as a heroine endowed with 
 more than mortal courage ; to contemplate serenely 
 the prospect of dwelling in a place hitherto supposed 
 to be doomed to perpetual desolation ; and many 
 were the conversations she held with her on the sub- 
 ject of apparitions, the starting-point being invariably 
 the ghost of the Grange, the incredulity of Alice 
 battling vigorously with the timidity and credulity of 
 Phoebe. 
 
 The little mind of Phoebe was not capable of hold- 
 ing more than one marvel at a time ; but as the 
 newness of Alice Ford's arrival died away, and her 
 heroism became familiar, an inkling of the warm rela- 
 tion existing between George Latham and the young 
 lady dawned upon her ; and as an insinuated mark 
 of sympathy in her friend's concealed love affairs, she 
 bestowed ujDon Alice, unsought, her confidence ; re-
 
 phcebe's puzzle. 303 
 
 lated how she was pestered by Matthew Spark, and 
 had been followed by Miles Wood, and lectured by 
 ^RFadame Latham, and how she ''didn't know what to 
 make of ]Miles, latterly ;" and how she was puzzled 
 which to have, for though she thought she liked Miles 
 the best, he had never given her the chance of saying 
 " No :" and thouo-h she had told Matthew to " cro 
 about his business," many a time, he wouldn't, she said, 
 but made it his great business to follow her; and 
 thereupon she asked the opinion of Alice what she 
 should do. 
 
 To the great surprise of Phoebe, who opined that all 
 young girls in love must think and feel alike, Alice, 
 even on the little flirt's own showing, condemned her 
 as a coquette, and told her that no woman was worthy 
 of an honest man's love who could trifle with the 
 feelings of him or any other man ; and begged her, 
 as she regarded her own happiness, to think well 
 which of these she esteemed most, and if she loved 
 him, and was assured he loved her, to keep true and 
 constant to him only, whatever might betide. 
 
 This was not exactly what Phoebe expected, and 
 she looked rather rueful at receiving a second sermon 
 where she hoped for support in her own wayward 
 fancies ; and, contenting herself with the belief that 
 neither Alice nor Madame Latham could comprehend 
 her peculiar position or perplexities, resolved to drift 
 with the tide, and please hers{3lf.
 
 ■■ • .. '>' . ■ i jrrjTffiTi 
 
 304 god's providence house. 
 
 But, pleasing ourselves is by no means so easy a 
 task as some people imagine ; we cannot regulate or 
 control the actions of others, but those actions may 
 interfere very considerably with our intention of 
 pleasing ourselves, and so Phoebe found, to her 
 infinite annoyance. 
 
 She remained at the Lodge after Alice had gone to 
 her new home, still hearing rumours of the trips of 
 Miles to Chester, on courtship bent, but these reached 
 their climax the day when Matthew escorted Miss 
 Ford to the Lodge, charged with the message that 
 " Whistler had bolted." Whistler was the horse hired 
 by Miles to convey his sister to Chester, and the 
 " bolting " occurred on the road home, but that was 
 little to the purpose. The journey and its probable 
 object concerned Phoebe, not the freaks of a scared 
 horse, and Matthew was sure not to denude the 
 rumour of any disagreeable garment it might wear. 
 
 So Phoebe felt herself slighted and aggrieved, and 
 pouted, and vowed she would please herself and spite 
 him, and be revenged, that she would. And, in order 
 to be revenged, she was amiable once more to Mat- 
 thew, and sent him away delighted, and then went to 
 her room for a " good cry."
 
 305 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE THRESHOLD OF CHRISTMAS. 
 
 The inhabitants of God's Providence House had 
 begun to regard the threatening letter received in 
 November, more as an idle attempt to -alarm Mr. 
 Peover, than part of a serious design to prevent the 
 fulfilment of his contract, since nothing occurred to 
 disturb the even tenor of their lives, although the 
 Grange had not only been completed but inhabited a 
 fortnight, and Christmas had yet to come. 
 
 But the good old man's fancied security was broken 
 in upon by a second letter, given to Margery in the 
 street by a boy, who darted down an alley, and was 
 out of sight in an instant. It was in the same hand, ^' 
 though rather less laconic than the former : 
 
 " Old Man, — You have despised my warning. 
 But, heed this, Death lies in wait for you or yours at 
 the Grange, or for yourself in the very streets for three 
 weeks' space. Security is only at home — keep there. 
 
 VT>]., L X " 
 
 i><>
 
 306 god's providence house. 
 
 Put a foot within the gates of the Grange, and you 
 die like a dog. Keep silence, too, if you would keep 
 your life. 
 
 "You Know Me." 
 
 This time Mr. Peover's hand did not palsy, the threat 
 was no longer vague but defined, and the conditions 
 involved no breach of trust. He, however, as usual, 
 took counsel with Martha on the subject, and her 
 opinion this time followed his. But she remarked 
 what he had passed over ; the threat in connection 
 with the former letter, still kept suspended like the 
 sword of Dionysus over the head of Damocles, and she 
 counselled a plan to nullify it. " Have you any 
 business requiring your immediate presence at the 
 Grange ?' was her first question, and he replied, " No, 
 no ; but I met Mr. Ford at the Blue Posts yester- 
 day, and he invited us to spend Christmas Day with 
 them : he expects that young man from Manchester 
 who did him such good service in Delamere Forest, 
 and I half promised we would go — promised we would 
 
 go." 
 
 On Christmas Day we cannot ; will not our 
 Eeverend Brother Fletcher from Madely sojourn 
 here, we must not neglect the servants of the 
 Lord for our temporal friends ; nor must we 
 leave the special services of Christian worship 
 for the feasting and junketing there will be at the
 
 THE THRESHOLD OF CHRISTMAS. 3J7 
 
 Grange. We have a higher calling. Besides, there 
 will be our Christmas alms to dispense, and, though 
 Margery would regard the trust as sacred, and perform 
 it duly, a kind lock or the *word in season' from 
 ourselves, will add a grace to the charity and enhance 
 the value of our gifts. No, Joseph, I think our place 
 on Christmas Day is at home, irrespective of this threat 
 of Ned's, and if you agree with me, I will write a line 
 to say so." 
 
 " Yes, if you will, Martha, I am a clumsy hand at 
 an excuse — a clumsy hand at an excuse. I had forgot 
 all about the preacher from Madely — that's a truth, 
 that's a truth." 
 
 *' Well, then, Christmas will be spent at home, and 
 if you have no necessity calling you to Shotwick, there 
 is no reason why you should wilfully run yourself into 
 possible danger. This letter may be but an empty 
 threat, but it may have a serious import, and wisdom 
 suggests to my mind discretion. What do you think, 
 Joseph ?" 
 
 Same as you — same as you. But I can't remain a 
 prisoner at home three weeks for that rascal's whims ; 
 must mind my business ; must mind my business. 
 What with drink and Christmas-boxing, the men 
 will be all at a loose end, and will need looking after ; 
 need looking after ?" 
 
 " Look after them, then, attend to such business in 
 the city as needs your presence, without fear ; so long 
 
 X -.1
 
 308 god's providence house. 
 
 as you are doing your simple duty, the Lord will pro- 
 tect his own, and you need dread neither ' the arrow 
 that flieth by night, nor the pestilence that walketh 
 at noon-day.' All I would advise is, that you should 
 not needlessly run counter to the warning of a ruth- 
 less and desperate foe/' 
 
 *' Just so — -just so !" 
 
 '' But Joseph, do you not feel it desirable to render 
 void such threats as the one repeated at the head of 
 his letter?" 
 
 "Should think 1 did; should think I did! But 
 how — how ?" 
 
 " Take !Mr. Ford into your confidence fully ; relate 
 to him all you revealed to me last November, and the 
 right arm of the mischief is paralysed. Nay, more, 
 take him into your counsels, as you did your old friend 
 Latham ; he is a sensible and practical man ; and if 
 any one can relieve your mind of that great per- 
 plexity, I feel that he can. You want a friend, make 
 one of him ; he will be a staunch one, and in the 
 latter case unbiassed." 
 
 " I must think about it ; I must think about it, 
 Martha," and the dew stood on his brow, "You 
 counsel well — well. If my nerves only equalled 
 yours! But I will think it over ; think it over ;" and 
 he dropped his head on his hands, and so remained 
 for some time, in deep and perplexed thought, undis- 
 turbed by the entrance of Margery, who came to lay
 
 THE THRESHOLD OF CHRISTMAS. 309 
 
 the dinner-cloth, or by the rattle of knives and forks, 
 the jingle of glasses, the clatter of plates, or any of 
 the noises inseparable from Margery's task, no matter 
 how grave and orderly the manipulator might be. 
 
 But that day passed into night ; and another day 
 dawned, and another ; and yet many another, before 
 the old man determined what course to adopt. He 
 acknowledged the wisdom of his good wife's advice, 
 but his constitutional timidity would not suffer him to 
 profit by it. At length, however, after the lapse of 
 many days, he came to the conclusion that it would 
 be best to take Mr. Ford into his entire confidence ; 
 but even then he deferred the confession it involved 
 to " some day soon :" and although Martha urged the 
 desirability of doing promptly that he had resolved so 
 well to do, December shook hands with January, and 
 January whistled to weeping February, yet Mr. Ford 
 had neitherteen confided in nor consulted. 
 
 But if the writer of the mysterious epistles had no 
 other motive than to keep Mr. Peover at home for 
 three or four weeks, he might have spared ink and 
 paper, for a more powerful agent than his threats 
 laid an embargo on the builder, and confined him to 
 his arm-chair. He had not returned home from 
 Shotwick on the Thursday, after concluding his busi- 
 ness with Mr, Ford, but remained with his wife, as 
 Mrs. Latham's guest, until Friday morning, and then 
 though the sky was lowering, was compelled to depart
 
 310 god's providexce house. 
 
 by the calls of pressing business. Before they had 
 gone more than a mile of the road the rain came 
 down heavily, and as they travelled in an open gig, 
 they were drenched to the skin long before they 
 reached Chester, notwithstanding their heavy wrap- 
 pings. Margery, sorry to see the plight in which they 
 were, stirred up the fire, and bustled about to remove 
 the dripping hood and cloaks, find an entire change 
 of raiment, and then prepare hot elder wine as a 
 preservative against cold; but neither dry clothes, 
 nor elder A\dne, nor Margery's care, could preserve 
 Mr. Peover from a severe attack of rheumatism, which 
 lasted all the winter, and effectually prevented him 
 from stirring abroad. Mrs. Peover escaped with a 
 heavy cold ; but except to chapel, where she went in 
 all weathers, whether well or ill, she never left her 
 husband's side to go anywhere. 
 
 At the Grange preparations were making for the 
 coming of Christmas and the Christmas guest. After 
 the first storm which burst over Alice on the admis- 
 sion that she had been to the Lodge (for she could 
 not stoop to a denial), Michael relaxed his sternness 
 and severity on observing that she made no further 
 attempts to quit the house, and as on the Sabbaths 
 the intercourse of the lovers was restricted to a word 
 or two of casual greeting, which he knew not how to 
 prevent, he became less stern, and something of his 
 old kindliness came back to his words and tones. The
 
 THE THRESHOLD OF CHRISTMAS. 311 
 
 Lyons silk was measured, and fitted and made, after 
 the newest mode, Phoebe working at the Grange, 
 but coming in a morning and returning early in an 
 evening until it was completed, and as she was too 
 timid to cross the dreaded grounds after dusk, and 
 was also too timid to remain, Matthew was half-in- 
 vited to be her protector on her way home, and the 
 indirect invitation serving as effectually as a perfect 
 one, she had tbe pleasure each evening of tantalizing 
 Miles with the sight of their apparent felicity as they 
 passed his open shed. 
 
 George Latham had taken Phoebe into his confi- 
 dence as far as he considered necessary, and she was 
 not a little proud of the trust. She loved a secret 
 dearly, and a love-secret above all, and was sure not 
 to betray her friends. With a father who seemed 
 careless whether she herself married anybody or no- 
 body, and who looked on with equal indifference 
 whether she flirted with the smith or the wheelwright, 
 she felt the case of Alice to be one of peculiar hard- 
 ship, and was prepared to regard Mr. Ford as a sort 
 of domestic ogre. George had impressed her with 
 the necessity there was to make herself so agreeable 
 and useful that her presence might be desirable even 
 if no actual business services were required, and she 
 performed this portion of her duty admirably, inas- 
 much as it required no effort, the chief study of her 
 life having been to please or fascinate all with whom 
 she came in contact.
 
 312 god's providence house. 
 
 She worked in Alice's little sitting-room, and there, 
 unnoticed by her mother, who came in and out but 
 seldom, Alice penned brief answers to George's daily 
 communications, equally unsuspected by her father, 
 who seeing her about the house busy as of old, and 
 with something of her old cheerfulness returning, 
 attributed it in a measure to the presence of a light- 
 hearted, merry female companion of her own age ; 
 and thinking he might have made a mistake' in 
 isolating Alice from other girls hitherto, expressed a 
 desire that Phoebe should be made welcome whenever 
 she chose to come, whether for work or play ; and 
 himself gave her a general invitation, saying, it was a 
 pleasure to have such a blythe, bright-e3^ed lass about 
 the old rooms. So George's scheme flourished, as far 
 as his messenger was concerned. 
 
 Phoebe was therefore detained long after the dress 
 was completed, and assisted x\lice to prepare a cham- 
 ber for the visitor she so little desired to see. It was 
 a large apartment, adjoining Mr. Ford's, and there 
 was a door of communication between the two, bat 
 the entrance was from the corridor. It was lit by 
 two windows ; one near the corner, overlooking the 
 large courtyard ; the other opposite to the principal 
 door, embracing a prospect of farm-buildings and 
 labourers' cottages, and pasture-lands bounded by the 
 bright waters of the silvery Dee, there about two 
 miles broad. The opposite wing differed from this,
 
 THE THRESHOLD OF CHRISTMAS. 313 
 
 as there the corresponding room had been partitioned 
 into two small ones, and the entrance was not from 
 the corridor but the kitchen staircase ; just as Mr. 
 Ford's room had no direct communication with the 
 corridor, its door opening on a square landing to a 
 side staircase, although its inmates could pass to the 
 main corridor through either Alice's apartment or the 
 one provided for Mr. Hey wood. 
 
 The guest-chamber furniture from Ford-brook had 
 been deposited here — the downy beds, the spindly 
 bedsteads, the patchwork-bottomed chairs, Rob Eoy 
 carpeting, and all that went to make that room so 
 comfortable ; but the shepherd and shepherdesses had 
 been transferred to the next room, and to honour the 
 guest who had first to occupy it, dimity had been 
 procured from Chester, and the fingers of Alice and 
 Phoebe were busied for three or four days in draping 
 bed and windows ; not lightly, so as to furnish the 
 room, yet admit all the air and light possible, but 
 with voluminous folds and festoons, calculated to ex- 
 clude both, and to answer no purpose save the use 
 of an extravagant quantity of material, and as ex- 
 travagant a waste of labour. Places were found for 
 Hogarth's prints, and bits of evergreen were stuck 
 above the Idle Apprentice and the Rake's Progress ; 
 a sprig of red-berried holly was placed with some 
 quaking-grass and everlasting in the Derbyshire-spar 
 vase on the bureau, the swing-glass had a drapery of
 
 314 god's providp:nce house. 
 
 muslin, and the spindle-legged toilet table a modest 
 petticoat of dimity, but there was no '^Welcome" 
 now knitted into the cover of the pretty pincushion 
 Alice laid upon the table. Mrs. Ford marked the 
 omission when she came to examine the general 
 appearance of the chamber, and asked why it was 
 not there as usual to greet a visitor, but Alice's brief 
 and decisive reply, " I have no welcome for Mr. Hey- 
 wood, mother, and I prepare the room, but I cannot 
 imply an untruth," silenced any remonstrance she 
 might have made, and with a little sigh, indicative of 
 her powerlessness to contend, she returned to her 
 kitchen and cookery. 
 
 Closing the door on the dimity and the scent of 
 lavender and clean linen, the two girls descended to 
 the long room, and then came Dick and Ben lugging 
 in great heaps of holly and mistletoe, and fir and 
 laurel, and Dick cut the great branches into small 
 ones, and because, he said, the holly would scratch the 
 soft arms and fingers of the dainty misses, he called 
 Peggy from the kitchen to help in the construction of 
 wreaths to festoon the walls; and as garland after 
 garland issued from their hard hands, Alice, mounted 
 on a ladder, arranged them on the walls, while little 
 Phoebe stuck odd sprigs of the red-berried evergreen 
 in every available spot ; a tiny bit of mistletoe she 
 placed over the embroidered counterpart of Alice, 
 telling her the while, in discreet confidence, that Mr.
 
 THE THRESHOLD OF CHRISTMAS. 315 
 
 Hey wood might kiss the picture if he liked, it would 
 neither say '* nay " nor box his ears, and if she were 
 Alice she would do both. The sampler, and the oil- 
 painting portraits of Sir Luke and Mr. and Mrs. Ford 
 came under her care, and the great bay windows, and 
 she performed her office with much taste. While 
 Dick and Peggy, with oftener interlaced fingers than 
 the occasion called for, prepared a huge "kissing 
 bush," as they denominated the mistletoe bough, and 
 decorated the same with golden oranges and rosy 
 apples, Dick, through some strange association of 
 opposites in his mind, blurted out, "Miss Alice, dun 
 yo knaw measter han sent back them tarriers to 
 Mester Latham ? Oi decleer oi never wur so sheam- 
 faced i' moi loife, as oi wur i' takin them back !" 
 
 " No, I was not aware of it, Dick ; when were they 
 sent?" 
 
 " This mearn, first thing, measter said as how he'd 
 ha' nought o' a Latham's nigh th' Grange; but it 
 fair went agen moi hert to tak' them tarriers back, 
 they have killed a soight o' rats, an' th' bams fair 
 swarm wi' th' varmint." 
 
 " Well, Dick, perhaps my father thought these dogs 
 only lent to us ; and fancies our own ought to be able 
 to clear the premises of the intruders." 
 
 " Happen, he may, but oi dunno think it, miss ; 
 whoi Peggy what beest thee shaking thy head abawt, 
 and lookin' so fleered loike ?" asked Dick, turning to 
 his assistant.
 
 316 god's providence house. 
 
 " Oive heerd it's summat more than rots as keeps 
 us a' awake i' the neeght," responded Peggy, shaking 
 her head again very mysteriously. 
 
 "Whoi whatn's the wench droivin' at?" asked 
 Dick, with wondering stare. 
 
 " Whoi, Mester Spark says as how a ghost walks 
 i' th' Grange, an' it is n a rots that skreek and run !" 
 answered Peggy, in a confidential whisper, and a very 
 conclusive nod of her wise head. 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! ha, ha, ha !" roared Dick, " Whoi, 
 wench, thee'st getting waur ev'ry day; did'n anny 
 body hear o' th' ghost on a rot afore ?" 
 
 "Oi didna say 'twur th' ghost on a rot. It's th' 
 ghost 6' a w^oman wi' a long grey gown, an' it flits 
 thro' th' rooms skreeking a' the toime !" 
 
 " Dunna thee be such a mortal fuile, wench. An* 
 oi cotch Mester Spark or any other spark makking 
 thee more suppositious than thee bee'st, oi'll gie un a 
 taste o' thot !" answered Dick, with a ludicrously 
 half-savage grin, displapng his huge clenched fist as 
 a specimen of what Matthew might expect. 
 
 Alice and Phoebe had said nothing during this 
 colloquy, but the latter shivered and looked around 
 as if there were a ghost ready to pounce amongst 
 them even in the daylight ; and Alice mentally con- 
 gratulated her father on so sensible an ally as Dick 
 evinced himself. When he had concluded his bel- 
 ligerent display, however, she took occasion to com-
 
 THE THRESHOLD OF CHRISTMAS. ol7 
 
 pliment him on his good sense as shown in his dis- 
 belief in ghosts ; and her few words of commendation 
 served to confirm him in his unbelief, and inclined 
 to do battle with any man who ventured to be 
 credulous. 
 
 From the long parlour the ready made garlands 
 and trimmed sprigs of evergreens, were carried to 
 adorn the drawing-room, but Alice suspended no 
 mistletoe-bough there, in the face of Joseph and 
 Potiphar's wife. Joseph never countenanced kissing 
 other men's wives, and betrothal was sacred as 
 marriage. Then Alice's little room, and her father's, 
 had to be trimmed, and the hall to be made a perfect 
 bower, and the massive oak balustrades wreathed, 
 until the Grange was almost as green and leafy within 
 as without. 
 
 Meanwhile, the bright kitchen glowed with an 
 enormous fire, and though it was December, and the 
 ground white with a fleece of snow, the door stood 
 open to let out the heat, and in or out the bustling 
 men or women, who, with Christmas importance on 
 their faces, helped to prepare the Christmas cheer. 
 In the outbuildings men were plucking geese, turkeys, 
 chickens, pigeons and partridges, skinning hares and 
 rabbits, or cutting up the fat porker killed the day 
 before. In the kitchen Margaret was busy super- 
 intending preparations for cakes and jellies, mince 
 pies, tartlets, game, pork, giblet and chicken pies,
 
 318 god's providence house. 
 
 potted meats, sausages, and an infinite variety of 
 nameless et ceteras. Ben pounded sugar or whisked 
 eggs^ or chopped sausage-meat or currants, or went 
 to the pump for water, or carried away refuse ; whilst 
 Betty and Sally, the new maid, pared and chopped 
 apples, and beef and suet, and raisins and currants, 
 and candied peel, till the place was perfumed like a 
 pastry-cook's, and noisy with the dull clatter of knives 
 on the white wooden chopping board and bowls, 
 There was sweetening, and seasoning, and spicing, 
 boiling and baking, jugging and roasting, mixing of 
 sausage forcemeat and mincemeat, making of trifles 
 and custards, and flummery, currant loaves and sweet 
 cakes of many descriptions, stuffing of geese and 
 turkeys, trussing of fowls and game, and lastly, the com- 
 pounding of more than one huge plum-pudding, a task 
 which devolved on Alice when the embowering process 
 was completed, and Phoebe had gone back to Shot- 
 wick attended by her faithful esquire. By mid-day 
 on the twenty-fourth, the bustle in the kitchen began 
 to subside, and as Peggy resumed her sway in the 
 usurped domain, the scattered culinary utensils were 
 scoured or polished and replaced, an extra polish was 
 given to plate and pewter, evergreens hung and 
 clustered about, table-cloths, and glass and china 
 reserved for special occasions were brought from the 
 lavendered linen press, and crowded china closet. 
 The buffet in the long room was enriched with family
 
 THE THRESHOLD OF CHRISTMAS. 319 
 
 relics in the shape of silver salvers, punch bowls, 
 race cups, coursing cups and hunting cups, which told 
 that neither Sir Luke Grenville, nor Michael Ford's 
 ancestors had surrendered themselves to farming as a 
 pursuit, whatever their worthy successor might do ; 
 and as Michael glanced over these testimonies to the 
 exploits of his kindred, and surveyed the general 
 preparations from that room upwards to Mr. Hey- 
 wood's, his voice echoed the well-satisfied expression 
 of his face. 
 
 On the Monday he had burdened Miles with a 
 hamper for Mr. Peover, of fruit gathered at Ford- 
 brook, and poultry killed at the Grange. He had 
 distributed over Shotwick sundry tokens of geniality 
 and benevolence in the guise of Christmas-boxes, and 
 to the cottages of his hinds geese and pork, apples 
 and potatoes, cheese and white bread, ready-made 
 plum puddings, and home-brewed ale in large stone 
 bottles bad been sent, in order that each family might 
 make a festival of Christmas on its own hearth, 
 under its own roof, and be knit closer together by the 
 bond. 
 
 In efforts like these to promote the comfort and 
 happiness of his dependents, and act as a faithful 
 steward of the abundance he possessed, he had spent 
 the morning ; and, as if in confirmation of the truism, 
 "it is more blessed to give than to receive," his face 
 beamed with intense satisfaction ; and, as Alice met
 
 320 ♦ .god's providence house. 
 
 him in the hall dressed for the afternoon, the light of 
 Christmas on her countenance, he interpreted the 
 smile into a desire to please him, and receive his 
 guest willingly as her own. Of the letters of Christ- 
 mas salutation she had just penned for Phoebe to 
 carry to Mrs. Latham and her son, or of the warm 
 words of love then lying on her heart, to sustain and 
 comfort her, and give her strength to endure even the 
 presence of the coming suitor, he knew nothing, and 
 suspected nothing, or his pleasure had not been so un- 
 equivocally expressed. 
 
 It was Christmas-eve, Peggy had brought forth from 
 some secret depository a large piece of charred wood, 
 which she triumphantly held aloft above her head as 
 an invaluable prize. It was a portion of the former 
 year's yule-log, preserved to kindle the two great logs. 
 Dick and Ben had carried in with much ceremony ; 
 and, carefully dividing her treasure into two portions, 
 she marched with one to the drawing-room, followed 
 by Dick bearing the smaller yule-log, and proceeded 
 to kindle it with the sacred relic so carefully preserved. 
 Both were dry, and soon began to crackle and 
 sparkle, and shed a ruddy light over first the bright 
 brass fire-irons and fender, thence, as the flickering 
 flames began to leap and spread, the ruddy glow 
 expanded, and touched lightly the rows of brass nails 
 which outlined the seats of chairs and sofa, the 
 shining leather and mahogany, the crimson carpet and
 
 THE THRESHOLD OF CHRISTMAS. 321 
 
 curtains, the church windows of the bookcase and 
 convex mirror, which returned the light with interest, 
 and cast pleasant reflections all around. 
 
 Joseph and his Brethren, in their new coats of 
 glossy varnish, shone in the light of that blazing 
 Christmas log, with a new meaning and a new story. 
 There was no Christmas for Pharoah, and his Egyp- 
 tians ; and if it beamed on the dim eyes of Jacob, or 
 on Joseph and his penitent Brethren, it was looming 
 in the shadowy future, and seen with the light of 
 prophecy ; but that Christmas log lighting up the 
 wooden memorials of dead patriarchs, was itself a 
 memorial of a nearer past, of a son born to another 
 Joseph, to give light, and hope, and life to the 
 world. 
 
 Peggy saw or thought nothing of this, as she carried 
 in the tea-board laden with its tiny set of porcelain ; 
 nor as she came again with the shining copper kettle 
 hissing and steaming, and sputtering a request that 
 tea might be "made" immediately. Nor did Alice 
 as she lit the Christmas candles (long moulds tinted 
 in spiral lines with bright colours) in the tall silver- 
 topped carved mahogany candlesticks on the table, 
 and mounted a chair to light those in the candelabra 
 of the already radiant mirror. She thought only of 
 George Latham, and wondered how he was spending 
 his Christmas- eve without her, and wished for fairy 
 wings to bear her to the Lodge unseen. 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 322 god's providence house. 
 
 But the loud clang of the great knocker plied 
 freely, startled her from her reverie, and caused Peggy 
 to upset the salt-cellar she was placing on the table. 
 Whether Alice's perturbation at the cause of the 
 disaster, or Peggy's at the disaster itself, was greatest 
 is a question. To Alice that knock was the knell of 
 hope ; to Peggy, as the cause of her spilling the salt, 
 it was an omen of trouble and sorrow, and all evil 
 things. '' Only to think oi should'n spill th' salt on 
 Christmas- eve, o' a' neeghts o' th'year, an' a' through 
 a bang a' th' knocker. Oi'd ha' given annything 
 afore oi'd (]un aught so unlucky," deplored she all the 
 way she went down the stairs, with her eyes full of 
 tears, and heart full of grief for the trouble that was 
 sure to come, according to her belief. 
 
 The knock which so startled Alice and Peggy was 
 Mr. Heywood's only herald, for the deep snow 
 deadened the tramp of hoofs as of footsteps; and 
 therefore, though she did not hurry, Alice reached the 
 hall almost as soon as her father, who himself opened 
 the door, and greeted his friend warmly with, *' Merry 
 Christmas, Robert, my boy, I am glad to see you. 
 Welcome to the old Grange !" accompanying the words 
 with a hearty shake of both hands." 
 
 '* As meiTy a Christmas to you and all of us," re- 
 plied ]\Ir. Heywood, bending low and glancing round 
 at Alice and Mrs. Ford as he spoke. " I am proud to 
 be so welcomed once more under your roof;" then,
 
 THE THRESHOLD OF CHRISTMAS. 323 
 
 his hands released, he turned to the young lady, who 
 shivered, not with the cold, and said, " Miss Ford, 
 Alice, may I hope for such a welcome from you ?' as 
 he took her passive hand and raised it tenderly to his 
 lips (lips false in all things but love for her.) 
 
 "Her lips, man, her, lips! who kisses hands on 
 Christmas Eve ?" exclaimed Michael, with the glee of 
 a mischievous schoolboy ; and Mr. Heywood, nothing 
 loath, but with a deprecating glance at Alice, which 
 said plainly as words, " Pardon me, how can I help 
 it ?" caught the struggling maiden in his strong arms, 
 and kissed her, not coldly, but as his heart prompted, 
 and her father warranted. 
 
 As he released her reluctantly, with a lingering look 
 of love, she darted angrily from him, and, without 
 a word of either welcome or rebuke, took refuge in her 
 little room, near which they stood, and closed the 
 door, locking it within. Mr. Heywood seemed some- 
 what discomposed at her disappearance, but remem- 
 bering Mrs. Ford, who stood calmly by awaiting recog- 
 nition, he stepped forward with a pleasant salutation, 
 while Michael laughed heartily, and exclaimed cheerily, 
 '' Never mind, Robert, it's all right ; she'll come round; 
 all girls are alike, run away from the first kiss, but are 
 ready enough for the second. Here, Dick, what a 
 while you've been ; take this horse round to the 
 stable, see him well rubbed down, and give him a 
 
 warm mash." 
 
 y2
 
 324 god's providence house. 
 
 Dick grinned, scraped back his right foot, and made 
 a sort of duck with his head in acknowledgment of 
 Mr. Heywood's presence. 
 
 " A merry Christmas to you, Dick," was Mr. Hey- 
 wood's pleasant greeting of the countryman ; " I hope 
 your friend, Peggy, is well, and still kind to you." 
 
 " Same to yo, Mester Yawood, an' manny on 'em. 
 x\y, Peggy's a' reeght, sur, an' koind eneugh ; but she 
 be moightily cast down just naw, an' a' for upsetting 
 th' saut. She do be sorely suppositious ; but the 
 wench is a' reeght, thenk yo, sur ;" so saying, with a 
 second grin, and a repetition of the plunge and scrape, 
 doing duty as a bow, proud and pleased by the notice 
 of the trim gentleman, Dick took the horse by the 
 reins and led him away towards his stable, first, how- 
 ever, lifting the saddle-bags into the hall. A servant 
 was summoned from the kitchen to carry these to Mr. 
 Heywood's room ; and Mr. Ford, taking the younger 
 man's arm, led him away up the staircase. After a 
 few orders to the disconsolate Peggy, Mrs. Ford fol- 
 lowed, and herself lighted her guest to his chamber, for 
 she would have thought it a breach of hospitality to 
 depute that office to a domestic. 
 
 On her return to the drawing-room she found 
 IMichael seated by the hearth, looking thoughtfully into 
 the fire, with his right arm resting on the table, ham- 
 mering the tips of his compressed fingers on the tea- 
 board, which she knew of old to be a sign of growing
 
 THE THRESHOLD OF CHRISTMAS. 325 
 
 impatience. She stirred about the room, infused the 
 tea, arranged the table as Peggy brought in the 
 edibles, trimmed the candles, and was proceeding to 
 place the chairs, when his irritability found vent in 
 the explosive inquiry, " Why, has that girl not come 
 up-stairs yet ? by jingo, if she d(>esn't come soon, I'll 
 make her. She had better let me see no more of her 
 nonsensical airs. A fine thing, indeed, if a girl's 
 sweetheart may not have a kiss after riding so many 
 miles over the snow to see her. Christmas time, too. 
 You never refused me one, Margaret, when I came 
 a-wooing ; dids't thou, old woman ?" and he drew her 
 within his arm, and pressed her placid lips to his, 
 softening at the remembrance of his own courtship. 
 *' There was no running away from me when I stopped 
 at the j\Ianor House, was there, Margaret? Yet I 
 never travelled half so far for a smile or a kiss." 
 
 *' Well, but, IMichael," remarked she, timidly, " You 
 know that was different. I was always very fond of 
 you (there was a tighter squeze of his arm), and Alice 
 is not fond of Mr. Heywood. 
 
 The arm relaxed, the hand clenched, and down it 
 came on the table with a force that caused his wife to 
 start and the China-ware to rattle. 
 
 ** Different, is it ? then, by jingo, it is quite time 
 there was a change. Not fond of him ! Then the 
 sooner she becomes fond of him the better. She may 
 dismiss that Latham from her thoughts, for marry
 
 326 god's providence house. 
 
 him she shall not, and there's an end to that ;" and 
 Michael concluded with the deliberate tone of one 
 whose '* right there was none to dispute," whose fiat 
 was inevitable fate. 
 
 " I'll go and see what is keeping Alice ; perhaps, 
 after all, she is busy helping the maids in the kitchen, 
 they'll be lighting the yule-log by this time;" and 
 Margaret, as she spoke, glided from the room, pleased 
 to escape, and anxious to prevent the breach between 
 Alice and her father from widening. 
 
 Poor peace-loving Margaret ! she found a greater 
 commotion in the kitchen than the irritability she left 
 behind in the drawing-room. Peggy, with her apron 
 over her head, sat sobbing on the settle ; Sally, her 
 sharp-tempered auxiliary, was plying her tongue very 
 actively ; Betty, as noisily, strove to restore quiet ; 
 while Dick, sitting beside Peggy, alternately soothed, 
 and provoked by his laughter, the tears he sought to 
 repress. For some time Mrs. Ford could obtain no 
 information as to the cause of disquiet, all speaking at 
 once ; at length Dick tendered his explanation, inter- 
 rupted by the risibility he could not restrain : 
 
 " Whoi, mistress, Sally wur leeghtin' th' yule-log, 
 and th' wood bein' reather green, it didna' leeght 
 koindly ; so th' wench tuk th' bellowses to blow th' 
 kindlin' up, and when hoo'd dun, clapped the bellowses 
 on th' table loike ; and our Peggy, with her dorn'd 
 silly supposition, jumps up an' maks a row wi' th'
 
 THE THRESHOLD OF CHRISTMAS. 327 
 
 wench about it ! Tha' silly thing !" added he, turning 
 to Peggy, who, from behind her veiling apron, sobbed 
 out : 
 
 " Oi o-o-only said there wur sure to b-be a s-storm 
 i'th' house, if th' bellowses lay on th' t-t- table, and 
 oi'd dun mischief enough i'th' house, f-f-fur one neeght 
 in upsettin' th' saut-sellar to bring trouble in ; an' she 
 need na' mak' it worse, and then she up an' flew at 
 me wi' a tongue like a town bell." 
 
 " Who's getten' a tongue like a town bell ?" asked 
 vituperative Sally, with the face of a scold, and her 
 head thrust forward. " Moi tongue's as civil asyourn, 
 an' oi'm na' goin' to be flyted for nought but puttin' 
 th' bellowses out o' moi bond. Oi didna' hoire 
 (hire) to be at th' beck an' call on a' thoi queer 
 fanccies, dunna thee think it." 
 
 '^ Naw, Sally, thee be quoiet ; 'twas on'ny last week 
 yo' grumbled at th' bellowses bein' on th' table, and 
 blowed me up for't," interposed Betty, who did not 
 care to see her old friend Peggy unjustly assailed by 
 a new comer, to say nothing of a leaning towards 
 similar prejudices. 
 
 " Oi'm sartin s-sure, m-mistress, oi never meant 
 anny harm, an' oi never meant to mak' this row on 
 blessed Christmas-eve ; but even Dick wur agen me, 
 an' said as how oi wur a fuile. An' oi couldno' stand 
 it, an' I wur loike to croy !" 
 
 " I am very sorry to find the quiet of the house-
 
 328 god's providexce house. 
 
 hold destroyed for such a trifle," said Mrs. Ford, 
 regretfully. 
 
 /'Trifle, indeed!" muttered Sally, with an indig- 
 nant toss of the head. 
 
 " Very sorry," continued Mrs. Ford, regardless of 
 Sally's interjection, ^'that Christmas-eve, of all nights 
 in tlie year, should witness a squabble like this ; I 
 will not call it a quarrel. I own that Peggy is in- 
 clined to be superstitious ; but if the truth were known, 
 Sally, I dare say you are just as foolish ; and, Sally, 
 it may be well to tell you that I have been used to 
 good temper in my kitchen, and expect it. Betty and 
 Peggy have lived comfortably together for many years ; 
 I hope you will not be the cause of disagreements. 
 As for you, Dick, I am very cross with you. It is no 
 proof of your good sense to laugh at Peggy's folly, or 
 encourage a dispute about nothing. However, I hope 
 you will make your peace with her before long. But 
 I came to look for Alice ; do any of you know where 
 she is?" 
 
 No one knew ; so, leaving the abashed domestics to 
 settle their differences at leisure, she returned to the 
 hall, and tapped lightly at Alice's sitting-room door. 
 
 There were traces of tears on the face of the 
 daughter, as she opened the door to admit her mother, 
 and an indignant flush still burned on cheeks and fore- 
 head. For some time she steadily refused to return 
 to the drawing-room ; but moved by her mother's
 
 THE THRESHOLD OF CHRISTMAS. 329 
 
 distress lest her refusal should further irritate her 
 father, and provoke another angry scene on Christmas- 
 eve, she listened to the dictates of reason, and followed 
 her mother up-stairs. For the ''peace of the family," 
 which Mrs. Ford was so apprehensive of disturbing 
 (she herself being, at all times, willing to make any 
 concession to " peace and quietness "), Alice at length 
 consented to take her place at the tea-table, conscious 
 that any extreme display of resentment would only 
 rouse her father's ire, and equally sensible that open 
 opposition was the very worst way to incline him to 
 abandon his will so as to suit her wishes. There were 
 ways and means to keep Mr. Heywood at a distance, 
 if he were a gentleman, and yet preserve her own 
 dignity without offending her father — at least she 
 hoped so. 
 
 When they reached the drawing-room, Mr. Heywood 
 was already there, with no signs of his journey in his 
 elegant attire. His boots had been exchanged for 
 shoes, high-heeled and paste- buckled, his silk stockings 
 were adorned with elaborate crimson clocks, the mul- 
 berry-coloured coat had a profuse trimming of silk 
 lace, buttons and frogs : the pea-green satin vest and 
 smalls were faultless in fit and fashion, ruffles and 
 cravat were edged with costly Mechlin lace ; chains 
 and bunches of seals bespoke a watch in each fob-; 
 the powdered periwig was fresh from the barber's 
 block, an atmosphere of perfuming essences sur-
 
 330 god's providence house. 
 
 rounded him, and the fine feathers made a very tine 
 bird indeed. 
 
 He advanced to meet Alice with an apology for his 
 presumptuous salutation, disclaiming all intentions to 
 annoy or offend, and begging earnestly to be reinstated 
 in her good opinion, seconding his appeal with a look of 
 such humble entreaty in those inscrutable eyes, it was 
 impossible to be obdurate. Observant of her father's 
 stern scrutiny, she accepted his apology with as good 
 a grace as she could assume : and, taking the seat he 
 offered, proceeded to dispense the tea, whilst he, re- 
 stored to good-humour by her affability, presided over 
 the solids with his accustomed genial hospitality. And 
 Mrs. Ford, once more at ease, sipped her tea, ate cake 
 and corned beef; and, quietly watchful of others, 
 especially Mr. Hey wood, supplied and anticipated 
 wants with unobtrusive tact. 
 
 Mr. Ford was in high spirits : the blazing yule-log, 
 crackling and sparkling on the hearth, warmed and 
 brightened up the warm colours and bright fittings of 
 the room ; but, beyond that, the happy and thankful 
 faces he had met and caused during the day, had 
 brightened up his secret heart, and the brilliant pre- 
 sence of Mr. Heywood by the side of Alice was the 
 cap-sheaf of his delight. 
 
 That gentleman exerted himself to dissipate from 
 the mind of Alice any ill impression lingering there, 
 mingling a degree of delicate respect with his profuse
 
 THE THRESHOLD OF CHRISTMAS. 331 
 
 attentions, which at least disarmed her displeasure. 
 His impenetrable grey e}es followed her every move- 
 ment with varying expressions ; but, so guarded, it was 
 impossible to construe or resent any of his glances as 
 offensive. But he called her " Alice," with a tender 
 cadence on the word, and a sensitive nerve jarred 
 every time he addressed her. What right had he to 
 call her Alice ? Her heart answered her heart, " The 
 right of a father's sanction," and the echo smote her 
 painfully. 
 
 Conversation was brisk, at least between the gentle- 
 men. Mrs. Ford, seldom much more than a listener, 
 only put in a few mild words now and then, and Alice, 
 wandering away in thought to Latham Lodge, was 
 only recalled home by an occasional direct question. 
 The ordinary topics of weather, journey, state of roads 
 and state of trade were soon exhausted, and then Mr. 
 Ford asked his visitor what he thought of his new re- 
 sidence, and if he did not consider it a disgrace that 
 so fine an old mansion should have been left to the 
 bats and owls. 
 
 "• So far as I could judge, riding up in the dusk, it 
 appears a noble building, with a good frontage, but 
 you must permit me to defer my opinion until day- 
 light enables me to form one. Alice will then, Mr. 
 Ford, most probably a3Ccord me the grace she did at 
 Ford-brook, and be our companion and my guide in a 
 tour of the Grange," was the bland reply, *'and,"
 
 332 god's providence house. 
 
 added Mr. Heywood, turning his handsome face to- 
 wards her, with a pleading look in his sphynx-like 
 eyes, " May, I, dear Alice, hope for that happiness ?" 
 
 An almost imperceptible shudder at the " dear " 
 with which he prefaced the Alice, an inclination of her 
 head, and the coldly uttered words, *' If it is my 
 father's wish," was the sole response of the reluctant 
 maiden. 
 
 " Of course, it is my wish, you know that, Alice ; we 
 shall have plenty of time after breakfast. By the by, 
 Margaret, what time do you expect your friends from 
 Chester?" 
 
 A sudden change passed over the face of Mr. Hey- 
 wood as Mr. Ford put this casual question to his wife, 
 a mingling of uneasiness or pain with an angry scowl, 
 which drew his close eyebrows closer till they met, 
 but ere Mrs. Ford had finished her brief reply it was 
 gone, not however before it caught the observant eye 
 of Alice, who musingly wondered where she had seen 
 that disagreeable expression before. 
 
 Even Mr. Ford's duller sight had been attracted to 
 it, and he inquired anxiously, "What is the matter, 
 Robert? are you ill ?' 
 
 " Oh, nothing, nothing — a sudden spasm, that was 
 all ; I am subject to them, and have been for years. 
 Pray do not regard them." 
 
 " Why, I declare, Robert, you are just like old Mr. 
 Peover" (another ''spasm"), ** he has sudden attacks
 
 THE THRESHOLD OF CHRISTMAS. 333 
 
 of illness, but they don't end with a mere spasm. 
 We were looking at a boat on the Dee the morning 
 we made our survey of this place, and the poor 
 fellow almost fell over into the river ; and he had a 
 second attack in this room. I was quite sorry for the 
 eccentric old gentleman. I should like you to see 
 him, Robert, he is a singular individual, abrupt and 
 plain-spoken, but as simple and single-minded as a 
 child." 
 
 *•' Indeed, if that be the case he would be worth 
 knowing. I may have the pleasure of his acquaint- 
 ance some day perhaps," observed Mr. Heywood, 
 lightly. 
 
 " Well, Michael did ask him and Mrs. Peover to 
 spend Christmas here, but the dear old gentleman 
 is laid up with rheumatism, I grieve to say, so we 
 cannot hope for their company," remarked Mrs. Ford, 
 kindly. 
 
 " I am sorry to lose the opportunity of an intro- 
 duction to your curious friend," replied Mr. Hey- 
 wood, very complacently, but with a very strong 
 glitter in his unsearchable eyes. 
 
 " Ailsie, love," said her father (he always called 
 her Ailsie when in a specially good humour), "sing 
 us a carol or two, and then we will go down-stairs to 
 see what is going on in the kitchen, and join in the 
 fun, if Mr. Heywood is agreeable." 
 
 Mr., Heywood of course would be delighted, and
 
 334 god's providence house. 
 
 Alice, pleased to see the smile restored to her father's 
 face, to oblige him sat down to the harpsichord to play 
 and sing all the Christmas carols in her collection, 
 Mr. Heywood standing by her side, and gracefully 
 turning over her music the while, the jewels on his 
 slender fingers glittering like his eyes. But she cared 
 not for his fingers or his rings, she thought only of 
 the dear hand that had turned the leaves for her 
 when she sang '* Auld Robin Gray," in that room so 
 recently; and as the sacred melodies she warbled 
 floated sweetly on the ear, holy thoughts and genial 
 wishes wafted on wings of love to another household 
 than her own. 
 
 But Eobert Heywood was an enraptured listener, 
 and when she concluded thanked her gratefully (as 
 though she had sung for him) in-choice and elegant 
 words, which, however, she scarcely heard. Then, 
 offering his hand, he led her from the room, down the 
 staircase and along the lower corridor, followed by 
 his host and hostess, and as they went whispered 
 Christmas hopes and loving entreaties into a dull and 
 indifferent ear. 
 
 END of vol. I.