L I E) R.ARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVLRSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 823
 
 / ' 
 
 ry
 
 2 yo 
 
 Ph^^St.- <-'^ .''^-^DS^UAmO
 
 In 3 Vols. 31s. ea. (Second Edition). 
 
 TRODDEN DOWN, 
 
 By Mrs. C. J. Newby, 
 
 Author of "Comnjon Sense," "Kate Kennedy," "Wondrous 
 Strange," &c. 
 
 ** Mrs. Newby lias written several tales of considerable merit, 
 but nothing has come from her pen better than this narrative of 
 woman's trial, error, penitence, and atonement. The reader 
 will peruse 'Trodden Down' with pleasure." — Athenaeum. 
 
 *" Trodden Down' will firmly establish its author in the same 
 rank as Miss Mulock and the author of ' Adam Bcde.' " — Globe, 
 
 " We have not for a considerable time read a story of so much 
 interest." — Observer. 
 
 *' We have great pleasure in calling the attention of the reading 
 public to the best novel of the year, * Trodden Down.' " — Harro- 
 gate Advertiser. 
 
 *'Atale of deep interest, domestic trials, and womanly ten- 
 derness, chastened and directed by high moral principles. Mrs. 
 Newby is a mistress of the art of connected narrative." — Morn- 
 ing Advertiser. 
 
 " The book is a good book, and full of real interest." — Church 
 AND State Review. 
 
 ''The characters are well drawn, the incidents graphically de- 
 lineated, and the language powerful and graceful." — Brighton 
 Examiner. 
 
 * ' The work is a true novel ; it is most engrossing in its details, 
 but it is at the same time a really good book, healthy in its 
 morality and sound in its philosophy." — Brighton Gazette.
 
 Extract from the Morning Post, Feb. 16t]i, 1866. 
 
 A very ingenious invention lias lately been 
 patented by Messrs. Jay, of Regent Street, — *' THE 
 EUTHEIMA." It is nothing less than a self-fit- 
 ting and adjustable bodice, possessing the power of 
 expanding to accommodate any variation of the 
 figure, to obviate all undue pressure and necessity 
 for alteration, and therefore expressly suited to the 
 requirements of ladies in a delicate state of health. 
 '' The Eutheima" is made in black silk, elegantly 
 trimmed ; it is tight to the bust, with bands and 
 epaulettes of crepe or of silk gimp and jet beads, but 
 it can be made in any material. The elasticity is 
 contrived by the insertion of welts of elastic webbing 
 under the braces, from the shoulder to the waist, 
 beneath the arms and down the shoulders under the 
 brace ornaments. The set and style are excellent. 
 The ladies appear to be quite ready to appreciate the 
 peculiar merits and conveniences of the new patent, 
 for, though but very recently introduced to the 
 public, the Queen (the Lady's Newsjyaper) and Court 
 Journal state that considerable numbers have already 
 been sold.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 f0nl)0n: 
 
 T. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISPIER, 
 
 30, WELBECK STEEET, CAVENDISH SQUARE, 
 1866. 
 [the bight of translation is reserved.]
 
 41 ' 
 
 ^ 
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 DIARY OF ANTONY WYVIL, ESQ. 
 
 July 15 th, 1830. — I sit down to write 
 this diary, dearest sister, not that I have the 
 remotest idea that after the first page or two, 
 even your kindly criticism will find its record 
 of unvarnished facts, and conversations, other 
 than uninteresting, but because I promised 
 you 1 would let you know all I was con- 
 cerned in ; and all promises become sacred 
 when made during a time of affliction, as 
 ours was. I am afraid I shall have nothing 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 Z THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 worth reading to insert. If you did not 
 know England so well, or if I were a stranger 
 here, I might describe to you the varied im- 
 pressions which the sight of the mother 
 country is apt to produce upon her colonial- 
 born children ; but as we both have spent 
 the happiest years of our lives here, — you, 
 till Edward carried you off to India with 
 him ; and I, till within the last two years ; 
 and as, moreover, we have since gone over 
 together all those sweet school and holiday 
 recollections and impressions, I can have 
 nothing more to say on that score. 
 
 Our voyage has been prosperous ; but of 
 that you will have been already apprised in 
 the letter I sent you by the outward-bound 
 ship we met near St. Helena. I am now 
 writing in the hotel at Southampton, where I 
 intend to remain two or three days, before 
 proceeding to Mr. Carslope's seat of Wing- 
 bourne. 
 
 Six months ago, how little idea I had 
 that by July I should be once more in Eng-
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 3 
 
 land, having left its shores so recently. I 
 had prepared myself, as you well know, for a 
 long course of vigorous, useful life, such as 
 my fbither's had been, hoping to work (for 
 many years at least) under his eye, with you 
 and Edward settled not far from us, and 
 many another friend near. I had given my- 
 self my father's benovelent and honourable 
 career as a model, and all my English studies 
 had had my Indian life in view. This was 
 my expectation ; his death in that sharp sud- 
 den attack of fever destroyed a portion of my 
 hopes ; and his last breathed desire that I 
 should abandon India, and return home to 
 England for ever, finished that chapter of 
 my life. 
 
 What his motives were I have no idea. 
 He may have feared that the climate of the 
 country, which had so completely shattered 
 his once vigorous constitution, might under- 
 mine mine. He may have thought there 
 was a greater reputation to be made by being 
 called to the Bar in England, than in the 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 service of John Company. He may have 
 wished me not to spend my life as he had 
 passed his own, an alien from the mother 
 country; but surely, if so, it was late to come 
 to this conviction, when my education was 
 finished, my examinations passed, and my 
 career already commenced. Whatever his 
 reasons were, I had not time to ask him for 
 them, in the paroxysms of that fierce fever; 
 but his wish, so emphatically expressed, 
 must remain a law to me, and in obedience 
 to it, I left you all, and am here. 
 
 So long as I remain ignorant of my poor 
 father's real motives, I cannot but regard the 
 exchange as an evil. The one year I had 
 already spent in India had given me an em- 
 ployment quite sufficient for my capacities — 
 had united me to friends whom 1 had re- 
 membered in my childhood, and whom, 
 during the long exile of my school life T had 
 longed to see again, and above all, had re- 
 stored me to you, dearest Alice. You had 
 finished your school life in England, and
 
 THE MASTER OP WINGBOURNE. 5 
 
 married, and gone back to India so long 
 before, that to meet you was, I think, the 
 greatest pleasure I found on arriving there ; 
 and your house, Edward's society, and the 
 sight of your children, had supplied me with 
 all the home feeling that a life spent between 
 school, and holidays at our poor old uncle 
 bachelor's house, necessarily lacked. More- 
 over, I felt at home in the country and 
 with its life. Here I have several years of 
 hard reading before me, before I can even 
 stand on the threshold of the profession my 
 father has indicated to me, and even when I 
 am qualified to don the gown, I have but little 
 chance, without friends or powerful relations, 
 to raise myself by my own unassisted exer- 
 tions to any pre-eminence. All the influence 
 that our family has ever acquired, centres in 
 India. Here, I have no friends to equal in 
 value those I have left behind me in Bom- 
 bay ; indeed, I may say I have none at all. 
 My school companions must be by this time 
 scattered, many of them being in India, and
 
 b THE MASTEK OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 I shall have much difficulty in tracing the 
 others. And our poor uncle, at whose house 
 we used to stay during our holidays, being 
 dead, I have, under these circumstances, very 
 little to tempt me in England. 
 
 You will say I am ungrateful to the gifts 
 of Providence ; that most young fellows of 
 twenty-one, with the world before them, and 
 a com.petence, — though a modest one, still a 
 competence, — already provided for them, 
 should have no room to complain — that if I 
 am so unfortunate as to have lost all my 
 friends, I can make fresh ones, and that you 
 and Edward for your parts would only be too 
 happy to return, in any manner, to our dear 
 mother country. Be it so ; perhaps I am 
 ungrateful; but I would gladly exchange 
 with you. I pine more than I can express 
 for my Indian life — for the morning scamper 
 across the open jungle — the luxury of that 
 bath afterwards — the delicious coolness of the 
 evening, the days of field sports, the tiger 
 hunting — nay, even the daily task of writing
 
 THE MASTER OF VVINGBOURNE. 7 
 
 becomes dear to me, in comparison with the 
 drudgery I must expect here ; and if I could 
 have my wish, without direct disobedience to 
 my father's desire, and could transport my- 
 self back to you all again, the prospect of 
 another weary four months of sea life round 
 the Cape should not deter me. 
 
 Having complied with my father's wishes 
 in such essentials, I shall, of course, obey 
 him in all minor points, and make ray first 
 visit to his old friend, Mr. Carslope, who lives 
 at his estate called Wingbourne, situate some- 
 where on the confines of North Wales. T must 
 look in the map till I find it. My father knew 
 him, it seems, when they were both young men 
 together, before he left England for India; and 
 they have occasionally corresponded since, 
 but I do not think Mr. Carslope can have 
 enjoyed any great amount of his friendship — 
 I ought perhaps to say his esteem — since, in 
 the ten long years that I passed in school, I 
 never once received an invitation to go to 
 visit him, nor even heard of his existence ;
 
 8 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 and joii were in equal ignorance. I have to- 
 day arrived at what I think is a clue to this 
 reticence on our dear father's part, though 
 why he should at last have desired me to go 
 to pay this visit, when I have no longer the 
 benefit of his advice to guide me, I cannot 
 guess. However, I hope, that at my age, my 
 principles are sufficiently firm to stand any 
 test which may be applied to them at Wing- 
 bourne. 
 
 T have filled this sheet entirely with my 
 own personality, Alice, but such is the inevit- 
 able result of asking even the most lively- 
 minded individual, which I am not, to write 
 a. diary when he has nothing to say. I can- 
 not promise that mine will at any time be 
 more interesting. If you care to hear of my 
 progress through Blackstone and Coke upon 
 Littleton, you may be gratified, but if you 
 expect any more exciting occupations or ad- 
 ventures, I warn you, you will be disap- 
 pointed. Nature did not cut me out for a 
 hero ; I have never had a sinojle excitino- ad-
 
 THE MASTER OF WIXGBOURNE. 9 
 
 venture, though I have been three times 
 round the Cape, once home, when a boy, 
 then outward, " to utmost India bound," and 
 since then home again ; I have never been in 
 a storm ; I have never shot an albatross, nor 
 has any one ever fallen overboard, to give op- 
 portunity for the display of my heroic quali- 
 ties by plunging into the sea after them. And 
 in that unlucky tiger hunt, when our party 
 came to so much damage, it was Edward's 
 elephant after all, and not mine, that the brute 
 fastenened his claws into. One thing I can 
 promise you, and that is that this diary, if 
 not regularly, shall be, at least, faithfully 
 kept. I will nothing extenuate or aught set 
 down in malice, and if the people and things 
 I come across are uninteresting, I will not 
 distort the truth in endeavouring to make 
 them less so. If one cannot have the privi- 
 lege of writing egotistical letters to an only 
 sister, I do not know when we can. 
 
 I told you I believe I have discovered the 
 
 B 5
 
 10 THE MASTER OF WINaBOURNE. 
 
 reason why Wingbourne might, in my 
 younger clays, be considered an undesirable 
 residence for me. It happened in this wise. 
 In the coffee-room this morning, I ques- 
 tioned the waiter, who brought me my break- 
 fast, upon the different routes forgoing north- 
 ward, and the best way of travelling. A 
 gentleman who was sitting at the next table 
 heard me casually mention the name of 
 Wingbourne, and when the waiter had de- 
 parted, he asked me civilly whether I was ac- 
 quainted with Mr. Carslope, the proprietor. 
 1 told him I was not, and little by little re- 
 lated to him my reasons for going to see him. 
 I told him Mr. Carslope had been the former 
 friend of my father, at whose wish I had re • 
 turned from India, and was paying my first 
 visit to him, before even going to London. I 
 had written to him to tell him of this visit by 
 the last vessel which had left India before I 
 had started, and I begged him if he knew 
 anything about Mr. Carslope, to let me know 
 what it was, if he could do so with con-
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 11 
 
 venience to himself, as the whole family were 
 complete strangers to me. 
 
 My new acquaintance is a lawyer, the elder 
 partner in a solicitor's firm in London, a sen- 
 sible, gentlemanly man, and one who may 
 prove a good friend to me on my first essay of 
 London life. He was about to travel, he told 
 me, with his wife and family in Wales for 
 some months, their head quarters to be fixed 
 at Caernarvon, and he invited me, in case I 
 should be travelling that way, to call in upon 
 them. 
 
 Mr. Crowe, such was the lawyer's name, 
 told me all he knew concerning the Garslope 
 family — that all is but little, and chiefly relat- 
 ing to the estate. They were acquainted, he 
 told me, for a year or two, when he hap- 
 pened to be living in that part of the country. 
 Mr. Carslope, he said, came into possession of 
 the estate in right of his wife, having but lit- 
 tle fortune of his own, and giving up his 
 chances in a profession to settle down as a 
 country gentleman.
 
 12 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 Miss Ellerslle (the maiden name of liis 
 wife) liad a sister equally well off «vitli her- 
 self, but the property had been divided, the 
 landed estate coming to the eldest, and a 
 large sum of money to the younger sister. 
 This latter married a vulgar, dissipated man, 
 who soon broke her heart, wasted her fortune, 
 and indirectly caused her death, leaving one 
 son, who was brought up partly under the 
 care of Mr. Carslope, his mother's brother-in- 
 law, partly under that of his own father. The 
 eldest sister, Mrs. Carslope, died not long 
 afterwards, leaving her husband in the life 
 enjoyment of the Wingbourne estate, to be 
 inherited after his death by their only child, 
 a daughter. 
 
 '' And in default of Miss Carslope, her 
 cousin is, I suppose, the next heir?" 
 
 '' Precisely so, and if he were dead it would 
 devolve upon some third or fourth cousin," 
 said Mr. Crowe. " It is a long time since I 
 heard anything direct from the family, but 
 report does not speak very favourably of the
 
 THE MASri:R OF WINCxBOURNE. 13 
 
 young man, the nephew. It is a wildish sort 
 of country, and they live much sequestered, 
 and he has had every disadvantage so long 
 as his own father lived, amongst* his dissi- 
 pated associates. They say that Mr. Cars- 
 lope keeps no society at all, which is a pity, 
 for men very soon get out of the ways of the 
 world by living much alone.'' 
 
 "Mr. Carslope, however, is a gentleman 
 himself, is he not ?" I said, interested in the 
 reputation of a man who had once been my 
 father's friend. 
 
 '' He was, when 1 knew him," replied Mr, 
 Crowe. "I do not know what he may be 
 now. Living in retirement, a person is very 
 apt to degenerate, as I said before. How- 
 ever, I believe you will find him pleasant and 
 hospitable, and should you not care to stay 
 long at Wingbourne, remember, Mr. Wyvil, 
 we shall be very happy to meet you at Caer- 
 narvon.'' 
 
 I thanked him, and we separated ; I, on my 
 side, revolving deeply his information. H,
 
 14 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE, 
 
 as he says, the young man, Mr. Carslope's 
 nephew, has been so ill-educated, and is so 
 vicious and dissipated, it may well explain 
 my father^s reluctance to send me there. I 
 trust, as I said before, I am sufficiently well- 
 principled to run no danger, but is that secu- 
 rity the only reason why my father has per- 
 mitttedjOr rather enjoined my visit there at the 
 present time? What think you, Alice? 
 
 Whether Mr. Carslope turns out to be a 
 gentleman or not, I am not likely to meet 
 with many attractions in a remote Welsh vil- 
 lage, and my stay at Wingbourue will pro- 
 bably be but of short duration. I have not 
 yet decided if I shall accept Mr. Crowe's in- 
 vitation, but as I think it most probable that 
 I shall spend the rest of the summer in tra- 
 velling, before I settle down in London for 
 hard reading, I may as well lake that part of 
 Wales in my way as any other place.
 
 THE WASTEK OF \MNGBOURNE. 15 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 July 19th. — To-daj I arrived at Wing- 
 bourne, and although now late, I willingly 
 devote an hour of the already half-elapsed 
 night to record my first impressions, so that 
 you may have them at least fresh and 
 genuine. The coach set me down, weary and 
 stiff with long riding, at the insignificant 
 ale-house of a small, mean-looking village, 
 where the few loungers who were leaning 
 round the door, enjoying a pipe of refresh-
 
 16 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 ment after the day's work, for it was then six 
 o^clock, had ample entertainment for their 
 Boeotian minds, in the unwonted sight oi a tra- 
 veller stopping there. I inquired whether 
 I could procure any conveyance to Wing- 
 bourne, but this was beyond the power of the 
 landlord to furnish. 
 
 " The bosses were out in the hay field," he 
 said, " and it wasn't more than three miles 
 over the fields to Wingbourne, if I did not 
 miss the right path." 
 
 Mr. Carslope had sent no carriage for me ; 
 I hardly expected it, for I could not be sure 
 that he had received my last letter, telling 
 him the exact day of my arrival, so consign- 
 ing my luggage to the landlord's care, till I 
 could send for it, and taking minute instruc- 
 tions about the path, I set ofi" on my walk 
 across the fields. 
 
 The sun was low by the time I arrived in 
 sight of the house, or rather houses, for Wing- 
 bourne resembles more a collection of build- 
 ings than one solid mass. The central edifice,
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 17 
 
 SO far as it was left still visible, is a grey stone 
 building of more pretension than tbe gene- 
 rality of farmhouses, but neither in size or 
 finish equal to a gentleman's mansion. The 
 red-tiled roof and the walls were already mel- 
 lowed with orange and yellow lichens, which 
 attested its greater antiquity than the other 
 structures which had been added on to it. 
 These buildings are of every conceivable 
 shape and size — though the same material, 
 the grey stone, being employed on all, pre- 
 vents their looking so heterogeneous as they 
 must otherwise appear. They seem to have 
 been added on at no one time, and b} various 
 architects ; odd corners and angles protrude 
 on all sides, utterly marring all attempt at 
 symmetry, and chimneys are stuck on, and 
 windows broken out through the wails, in 
 bold defiance of any system of architecture. 
 
 The surroundings of the house are equally 
 ill-arranged. A confused number of build- 
 ings, stables, cow-houses, piggeries, and 
 barns, are set down here and there with ap-
 
 18 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 parently no plan but that of studied irregu- 
 larity, over a space of one to two acres — the 
 whole enclosure being surrounded by a low, 
 but strongly built stone wall, further defended 
 on the outside by a deep sunk fence. This 
 latter is crossed in two or three places by 
 raised causeways, communicating with gates 
 in the stone wall. There was one causeway 
 in front of the principal door of the building, 
 which was broad enough to accommodate a 
 carriage, but the others seemed destined 
 solely for the convenience of the cattle in 
 being driven out to the fields, and one at the 
 back of the house led to the gardens which 
 «ire all planted outside the circumvallation. 
 Only one or two trees have been allowed to 
 remain near the house, which stands out 
 ugly and bare, except for a few climbing 
 plants, even at this, the most beautiful time of 
 the year. 
 
 I had ample opportunity to survey the 
 whole of this extraordinary habitation, as it 
 stood in a hollow, the ground sloping down
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 19 
 
 to it in a semi-circle of hills, and the pathway 
 by which I first approached it ran for some 
 distance along the side of the hill, before de- 
 scending into the valley, so that I had made 
 half the circuit of the place before I ap- 
 proached its hall-door- 
 
 On ringing the great iron bell which hung 
 down by a chain aside of it, the clangour 
 sounded all over the premises like an alarum, 
 and I was half deafened by the chorus of bay- 
 ing howling dogs which it provoked — some 
 within the house, others at various kennels in 
 the yards. The commotion increased with 
 every repetition of the summons, as in spite 
 of the uproar, it was not until the third time 
 of ringing that the servants volunteered to 
 answer the bell. I inquired for Mr. 
 Carslope. 
 
 " He is in, sir, but just going to dinner. 
 He never sees anyone except in the morn- 
 ing," was the answer. 
 
 '' Does he not expect me, Mr. Wy vil ? I 
 have but just arrived from Southampton."
 
 20 THE MASTER OF WIKGBOURNE. 
 
 The man looked doubtful. 
 
 "I'll go and see, sir," he said. "Mr. 
 Carslope does not generally do business ex- 
 cept in the morning," and with that he de- 
 parted, leaving me standing beneath a huge 
 and clumsily shaped stone portico, ornamented 
 (it could not be improved) by two or three 
 long sprays of jessamine climbing up it. 
 
 After a delay of about five minutes, he re- 
 turned, accompanied by an elderly, grey- 
 haired man, who wore no livery, but whom, 
 nevertheless, I judged to be an upper servant 
 or steward. 
 
 " Are you the gentleman, sir, who was ex- 
 pected from India — coming to bide here?" he 
 asked, in a strong Scotch accent. 
 
 " Mr. Wy vil, yes, I am he," I answered. 
 " I suppose Mr. Carslope has not received 
 my letter, telling him what day I should 
 arrive." 
 
 " It does not matter in the least, sir. Will 
 you walk this way?'' 
 
 He showed me into a room, and saying.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 21 
 
 *' I'll let tlie master ken you are here," left 
 me. 
 
 The room in which I waited for the arrival of 
 my father's old friend is a long, low-ceilinged 
 apartment, with small lattice windows, in 
 heavy stone framings. Dark oaken panellings 
 covered the walls to half their heio^ht, the 
 remainder of which were painted of a pinkish 
 white. The sides of the room were loaded 
 with pictures of very little taste or execution ; 
 a few tolerable engravings of the royal family, 
 coronation scenes, and so forth, and the re- 
 mainder, portraits of celebrated racers, and 
 doubtful landscapes that might have been 
 picked up at any second-hand dealer in daubs 
 in London. The furniture of the room was 
 worthy of the pictures. The spindle legged 
 tables and straight backed chairs were neither 
 sufficiently old to command respect for their 
 antiquity, nor new enough to give an air of 
 comfort and habitableness to the room. The 
 window curtains were cumbrous, and the 
 cornices and frames of the pictures heavily
 
 22 THE MASTEll OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 gilt and far too large for the height of the 
 room. A few impossible Chinese monsters, 
 fantastically grinning, completed the incon- 
 gruous adornments of the room ; and a total 
 absence of books on either centre or side tables 
 showed that if this were the common sitting- 
 room of the family, as from various slight 
 disarrangements of the furniture it appeared to 
 be, I should not find in them very intellectual 
 companions. 
 
 I had but just finished my observations 
 when the entrance of Mr. Carslope claimed my 
 attention. In his youth, he must have been, 
 I fancy, handsome, and he is still tall and 
 rather striking in appearance. He looks con- 
 siderably older than his real age which is not 
 more than fifty, and his brown hair is plenti- 
 fully sprinkled with white. He stoops 
 slightly, and there is an appearance of ill- 
 health about him which is not dispelled by 
 his voice, which, though hearty and cheerful, 
 has no ring of health it it. He was dressed 
 in a most scrupulously observant dinner
 
 THE MASTER OF WlNGBOURNE. 23 
 
 dress ; but yet liis manner and conversation 
 are not strictly those of a gentleman, though 
 I should be at a loss at present to define in 
 what he fails. 
 
 1 have reason to be grateful to him for the 
 warmth of his welcome to me. Indeed, after 
 receiving the first cordial pressure of his hand. 
 I could hardly realise myself to be a stranger, 
 who, till that day, had never seen him, and 
 who, before the last year, had scarcely heard 
 the sound of his name. 
 
 '' Better late than never, Mr. Wy vil — Mr. 
 Antony Wy vil, you must allow me to call you 
 — I cannot so soon forget my old friend who 
 would, if he had lived, have been my con- 
 temporary, and, indeed, you are very like 
 your poor father when I last saw him. I went 
 down to Southampton to see him off, little 
 thinking I should never set my eyes on him 
 again. That was nearly thirty years ago. 
 The ship he sailed in was the Malabar — T re- 
 member it as well as if it was yesterday. But 
 as I was saying, you are very welcome,
 
 24 THE MASTER OF WIKGBOURNE. 
 
 tliough you have come later than you were 
 expected. I have been looking out for your 
 vessel for the last two months, though Flo' 
 told me it could not have got round the Cape 
 by that time," 
 
 '' Our vessel was detained by contrary 
 winds/' I said; " but it is at all times a lengthy 
 voyage. I know it tolerably well by this 
 time, for it is the third passage I have made. 
 You know I first came to England when but 
 a child." 
 
 ^' Very true ; all the greater pity your 
 father did not send yoii to me then. But 
 why do I stand talking here when dinner is 
 being set on the table already? Can you be 
 ready in ^vq minutes, Mr. Antony ? If not, 
 you know the things will spoil." 
 
 I begged to be shown a room, and promised 
 to use my very best speed ; but though I re- 
 moved the dust of the journey from my dress 
 as expeditiously as possible, the dinner bell 
 had sounded, jarring and clanging through 
 the house as though it had been a tocsin, be-
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUKNE. 25 
 
 fore I was ready, and when I hurried down- 
 stairs, and was shown the way to the dining- 
 room, I found my host, and another gentle- 
 man already waiting there. 
 
 " Let me make you acquainted," said Mr. 
 Carslope. '' My nephew, or rather, I should 
 say, my wife's nephew, Mr. Godfrey Thurs- 
 ton. Mr. Antony Wyvil, the son of a dear 
 friend of mine. I trust you will be very good 
 friends. Pray let us sit down ; the soup is 
 growing cold. Mr. Antony, I hope you are 
 not particular about grace; we always have 
 it whenever the clergyman dines here." 
 
 He turned round and surveyed the table. 
 It was set for four persons, and something 
 seemed suddenly to strike him as wrong, for 
 he asked sharply of the old majordomo who 
 stood by the sideboard, 
 
 " Where is Flo' ? where is Miss Carslope ?" 
 
 " I will go and inquire, sir," said the man, 
 and he left the room. 
 
 " Ay, do," said his master, " and meanwhile, 
 gentlemen, let us sit down to table. There is 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 no use in letting good things spoil. Mr. 
 Antony, will you take the place at my right 
 hand?" 
 
 I obeyed in silence, and Godfrey Thurston 
 took his seat opposite to me. Mr. Crowe had 
 prepared me not to expect a gentleman of the 
 most finished type, yet I could not recover 
 from my astonishment at hearing such a 
 clownish common-place individual addressed 
 as Mr. Carslope's nephew, and living on 
 terms of intimacy with his family. He was a 
 well-made man enough, and not without a 
 certain air of heavy comeliness, but his face 
 and demeanour were in no way superior to any 
 of the rustics I had seen lounging and smok- 
 ing at the village inn. Had I met him in a 
 different dress or ia any other society, I should 
 have passed him by as a doubtless honest, 
 but in no way interesting young ploughman. 
 He looked about twenty years of age, his eyes 
 
 and hair were dark, and his face full and 
 
 • 
 
 ruddy, 'and his mouth, though large, was 
 filled with white, even teeth. His expression,
 
 THE mastp:r of wingboukne. 27 
 
 if his face could be said to have any expres- 
 sion, was that of content, and stolid good- 
 humour. Of his speech I could learn nothing; 
 he had not yet opened his lips, only acknow- 
 ledging my presence by an awkward bow 
 upon his nucleus introduction, and a heavy 
 stare, and then his attention seemed wholly 
 engrossed by the viands on the table. 
 
 The old majordorao returned in a few mi- 
 nutes, giving entrance as he did so to a whole 
 troop of dogs, who followed at his heels, and 
 placed themselves by the table as privileged 
 intruders. 
 
 " ^liss Carslope,'' he said, " has not come 
 back from her ride," and he prepared to re- 
 move his master's plate, with so much com- 
 posure, that I conjectured the non-appearance 
 of the young lady to be an every-day oc- 
 currence. 
 
 " Not come back yet?" said Mr. Carslope. 
 " Has she gone far ? Godfrey, do you know 
 which way she was riding ?" 
 
 " Towards the North Hill, and round by 
 
 c 2
 
 28 THE MASTER OF Wi:yGBOURNE. 
 
 Eliysda]e fishponds, she told me,'^ answered 
 his nephew, in a tone and accent which did 
 not belie his appearance : both were com- 
 pletely boorish. 
 
 " And on what borse ? Not the knock- 
 kneed brute, Mervyn?'' rejoined Mr. Carslope. 
 
 ''No, her bay mare, Meg," was the reply, 
 and the subject was dropped by both gentle- 
 men, though Mr. Carslope continued to wear 
 for the next ^ve minutes an air of annoyance, 
 as though his daughter's unpunctuality at 
 table had disturbed him. Mr. Godfrey 
 Thurston, on the contrary, gave himself up 
 without reservation to the enjoyment of the 
 excellent trout which was now brought on, 
 and seemed to regard everything else as a 
 matter of indifference. 
 
 Nevertheless, when his hunger was some- 
 what appeased, I saw him two or three 
 times glancing wistfully at the empty chair 
 which was still set at the bottom of the table, 
 as if hS missed its usual occupant ; there was 
 a huge dog, half mastiff and half bloodhound,
 
 THE MASTER OF WIN^GBOURNE. 29 
 
 mounting guard beside it, and in the absence 
 of his mistress he did not disdain to apply to 
 Mr. Godfrey for occasional supplies. On 
 such occasions his low whimper of solicita- 
 tion was at once attended to, though the other 
 puppies, whelps, and hounds received nothing 
 at his hands. They besieged Mr. Carslope at 
 the head of the table, and as each in turn 
 became the most importunate, were severally 
 turned out by the servants, not however with 
 much effect, as they one and all contrived to 
 squeeze themselves in again, between the 
 footman's legs at the next opening of the 
 door. 
 
 The dinner was a long and — considering 
 that it had been provided for the family 
 alone, without any expectation of a guest — a 
 sumptuous one. I readily conceived that in 
 the vacancy and tedium of the country life, 
 it formed the principal event of Mr. Carslope' s 
 day. The appointments of the table were, 
 like the rest of the house, ill in keeping with 
 each other. A fine old dinner service of
 
 30 THE MASTER OF WI^GBOURNE. 
 
 cliina had been supplemented, and its vacan- 
 cies supplied by common crockery, such as 
 any country shop could furnish ; the glasses 
 on the table were coarse and common, but on 
 the other hand the linen though old was fine, 
 and several handsome pieces of plate that 
 stood on the sideboard attested that the dis- 
 proportion in all things did not arise from 
 want of money ; the plate was engraved 
 with a coat of arms and a cipher, not that, 
 as Mr. Carslope took the opportunity of as- 
 suring me, of his own family, but belonging 
 to the former possessor of Wingbourne, his 
 wife's father. 
 
 Our meal as I have said was lengthy, and 
 was further prolonged by wine, but it ended 
 as it had begun, without the presence of Miss 
 Carslope. Such conversation as there was, 
 was carried on solely by her father and my- 
 self, relating chiefly to my journey, and the 
 situation of my affairs when I quitted India. 
 Mr. Godfrey Thurston never opened his lips, 
 unless when directly appealed to by his uncle,
 
 THE T^fASTEK OF WTNGBOURNE. 31 
 
 when some fresli dish or newly uncorked 
 bottle of wine challenged his attention. He 
 drank steadily and deeply, and in this par- 
 ticular his uncle was not far behind him, but 
 being seasoned topers the wine appeared to 
 produce but little effect on either. 
 
 The great clock in the hall tolled out nine 
 before we left the table. 
 
 "You are no great drinker, I see, Mr. 
 Antony," said Mr. Carslope to me. " Well, 
 it is quite as well that a young man should not 
 be, though Godfrey here and I can empty a 
 bottle with any man ; but at your age 1 was 
 more abstemious. Stay and try my port; 
 I've had it in bottle myself these nineteen, 
 years. T laid it in the year Flo' was born, in 
 her honour, and she will not be twenty till 
 next September. What ! you will not ? then 
 we'll go into the drawing-room and have a 
 quiet pipe — you smoke, I suppose ?" 
 
 I did not, but I declared myself ready to 
 accompany him. 
 
 " And we will have a game of backgammon
 
 32 THE MASTEFi OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 —you play it, I hope? Flo' is my usual 
 antagonist. Godfrey, what do you say to the 
 bottle of port?" he added, as we were leaving 
 the room, observing that the young rustic had 
 never stirred from his chair, but was engaged 
 in pouring himself out another bumper. 
 
 " A good notion. If it is taken into the 
 drawing-room, I'll follow,'' said the heavy 
 Godfrey, and we adjourned forthwith to tlie 
 room, where I had been first shown. 
 
 Here Mr. Carslope and the young cub, his 
 nephew, threw themselves into two easy 
 chairs on each side of the fire, — the elder 
 gentleman requesting me to be seated like- 
 wise, — and commenced stuffing and lighting 
 their pipes, varied after half an hour's fumi- 
 gation by a cigar on the part of the younger 
 man. The large mastiff had accompanied us, 
 and now with paws stretched out across the 
 hearthrug and head between them, lay beside 
 Godfrey's chair in silent contemplation of 
 the bright fire, which, though it was a July 
 evening, seemed to make the large room none
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 33 
 
 too warm. To my mind the dog looked the 
 most in tellectual of the two. 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Carslope again proposed 
 backgammon. 
 
 " You'll see the hoard on the table between 
 the windows* if you will have the kindness 
 to bring it here," he said. " That chair will 
 be too low for you, will it not? It is where 
 Flo' usually sits when she plays.'' 
 
 We played game after game — for Mr. Car- 
 slope seemed to derive great satisfaction from 
 the amusement — while Godfrey continued to 
 smoke and stare at the fire in absolute idle- 
 ness, and the mastiff lay winking and blink- 
 ing his great honest ej^es aside of him. Eleven 
 o'clock struck at last. 
 
 " That's about enough for one evening, I 
 think,'' said Mr. Carslope, cheerily (I had long 
 been of the same opinion). "We'll leave ofip 
 now and have supper. Godfrey, will you 
 ring ?" 
 
 " We do not see Miss Carslope at all to- 
 
 c 5
 
 34 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 night, I suppose/' said I, while the young cub 
 stirred neither hand nor foot towards the 
 bell. 
 
 '' No, we shut up at eleven as often as not,'' 
 was Mr. Carslope's nonchalant response, and 
 I ventured again to say, 
 
 " Miss Carslope, has I suppose, returned 
 home long ago." 
 
 " Whv, yes ; most likely," said her father, 
 puffing away at his freshly filled pipe. " Most 
 likely gone to bed tired. Godfrey ! bless the 
 lad, he's asleep. Mr. Antony, will you be so 
 good as to ring the bell ?" 
 
 The old majordom appeared. 
 
 " We'll have supper, Nichols. Are the 
 gates locked yet ? you ought to mind to have 
 the keys by this time — I'll have no more rob- 
 bing of the hen-roosts after dark." 
 
 " Weel, sir, certainly ; I'll lock them at 
 once ; but you'll no be aware perhaps that 
 Miss Florence is still abroad." 
 
 "Flo' still abr3ad?" repeated her father.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 35 
 
 " Deuce take the girl! what does she mean by 
 staying out so late as this ? What sort of a 
 night is it, Nichols ?'' 
 
 " I ken na, sir ; but there is no moon, I 
 believe, and it has come on to rain a little." 
 
 " Open the shutter and look out, Nichols," 
 said his master, and Nichols obeyed, while T 
 stared in speechless amazement at the non- 
 chalance of the easy-going parent. 
 
 "It is as I said, sir," continued the major- 
 dom. " It drizzles a little — not over much, 
 but if s cloudy and pitch-dark. I fear Miss 
 Florence must have lost her road." 
 
 " Miss Carslope has of course a servant 
 with her," I observed, seeing that her father 
 made no reply of any kind. 
 
 ''No, no, Flo' can't abide a servant to 
 follow her," he said. " What are we to do 
 now ?" he added, uneasily rising from his 
 chair, and joining the old steward at the 
 window. " It's drizzling, sure enough, and 
 the child must have lost her way." 
 
 "Or fallen from her horse," suggested
 
 36 THE MASTER OP^ WINGBOURNE. 
 
 Nichols. " That Meg was aye an unchancy 
 beast, though Miss Florence is so set upon 
 her." 
 
 " Good heavens !" I exclaimed, " You 
 will surely send out to look for her, sir. I 
 will set off at once, and Mr. Thurston and 
 the servants." 
 
 "I don't see what good that will do," said 
 Mr. Carslope, despondently. " We do not 
 know which way she has gone, or how far. 
 Godfrey ! my lad, wake up ! It's past eleven 
 o'clock, and Flo' has not yet come home, and 
 she's out on Meg, and the night is so dark she 
 can't see a yard before her." 
 
 His uncle's voice, or more probably the 
 draught of fresh air from the opened window 
 into the smoky atmosphere of the room, 
 awakened the cub from his slumbers. 
 
 " What is it ?" he said, slowly lifting his 
 head. " Flo' not come home ?" 
 
 " No, and its past eleven o'clock," said his 
 uncle, "and drizzling fast. What is to be 
 done ? She may have lost her way or she
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBQURNE. 37 
 
 may have met with an accident, and Nichols 
 very properly says he cannot lock the gates 
 till she comes back. I don't know which 
 way she has gone, either/' 
 
 '' She went round by the North Hill, and 
 it's bad riding amongst those rocks, and the 
 lanes coming home are full of holes. I'll go 
 and look for her this minute," exclaimed 
 young Godfrey, with far more vivacity than I 
 had thought him capable of showing. He 
 gave himself a violent shake like a Newfound- 
 land dog, which seemed effectually to banish 
 all remnant of sleepiness, poured out and 
 drank a tumbler full of the vaunted port, and 
 repeated, " I'll go and look for her this 
 minute — poor Flo' !" 
 . " And I'll go with you too," I said. 
 
 "Yes, yes, that will be the best thing," said 
 Mr. Carslope, and as if the effort of thinking 
 had fatigued him, he sat down again, almost 
 as contentedly as though his daughter were 
 already safe at home, " You always judge 
 for the best, Godfrey. You and Mr. Wyvil
 
 38 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 shall go and see where she is : and Nichols ! 
 tell the maids to light a fire in her bedroom, 
 for it's drizzling, and she may have got wet 
 through." 
 
 The young cub meanwhile had endued a 
 shaggy great coat that had been carelessly 
 thrown on a chair in the corner of the 
 drawing-room, and which, when drawn on, 
 gave him much the appearance of a walking 
 bear ; and giving me the second stare with 
 which he had honoured me thafc evening, he 
 said, ''Come, I'm ready. We must go up 
 the Black Lane. It would be her shortest 
 way home." 
 
 Almost as much surprised by his prompti- 
 tude, as by Mr„ Carslope's culpable supine- 
 ness, I seized up my hat and follow^ed him. 
 But by the time we were half-way to the hall 
 door, the great bell which I had rung so often 
 before obtaining admittance, gave forth a 
 discordant peal, which again roused all the 
 canine echoes of the house, but which, unlike 
 my summons, was promptly answered.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 39 
 
 " Be quiet, Sjphax !'^ said Godfrey, patting 
 the large mastiff who had risen from the 
 hearthrug when he rose, and was about to 
 accompany him in the search for his mistress, 
 and who now was adding his deep bay to the 
 sharper tones of the smaller dogs. " It's 
 Flo' herself, may be ; no, by Jove, it's a 
 man, d n him !" 
 
 The new comer, thus unceremoniously 
 announced, was a tall man, booted and 
 spurred, and enveloped in a large riding 
 cloak. He entered with the confident step of 
 one well accustomed to the house. 
 . "Is Mr. Carslope in the drawing-room, 
 Godfrey ?" he asked, holding out his hand as 
 he spoke, which the young fellow had not the 
 manners to observe. 
 
 " Yes, he is there, — where else should he 
 be?" was all he ans.wered, without moving a 
 finger for greeting. The stranger walked on, 
 seemingly used and indifferent to this scant 
 courtesy. 
 
 Through the open door of the drawing-
 
 40 THE MASTKR OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 room we could hear him accost our host. 
 " Good evening, Carslope ; you are probably 
 anxious about your daughter. I left her 
 safely at George Clark's, at the Hay Farm." 
 
 " 'I hank you — it is very considerate of you. 
 We were anxious. But the Hay Farm is 
 fourteen miles off. Have you come all the 
 way from there, Cousin Ellerslie?" was Mr. 
 Carslope' s rejoinder. 
 
 "Why, yes, I thought you would rather 
 know she was safe than not," was the answer, 
 given as I fancied I could detect with a touch 
 of sarcasm which Mr. Carslope's supineness 
 well deserved. " I met her near by the Hay 
 Farm after nightfall ; — her horse had lamed 
 itself— stone in its shoe — and she was not sure 
 about the way. I thought she had better 
 not come on. Clark's wife was all hospitality, 
 and I came on here to let you know all was 
 right. Can you give me a bed to-night ?" 
 
 " Of course, and some supper too ; we'll 
 have supper at once," said Mr. Carslope, " and 
 Nichols, see you bring the brandy. I'm
 
 THE MASTli:R OF WINGBOURNE. 41 
 
 always delighted to see you, as you know, 
 Cousin Ellerslie/' 
 
 " rd kill that man if I could !" muttered 
 between his teeth young Godfrey, who with 
 me had stood listening to the conversation 
 between his uncle and his new guest. 
 
 " Whom do you mean ?" I said, startled. 
 " Not this gentleman T 
 
 " Are you listening to other folk's secrets?'' 
 he answered, turning round on me savagely, 
 with an oath which I should speedily have 
 resented had not old Nichols, the majordomo, 
 hurried up, and drawing Godfrey's arm with- 
 in his, forced him away from the hall. In 
 another minute the old man was back by mj 
 side. 
 
 '' Asking your pardon, sir.^ but will you 
 look over Mr. Godfrey's sayings now and 
 then? He is at times violent, especially. 
 Lord help him ! when he has drunk a glass 
 too much. At such times we none of us 
 much mind him. And. when Mr. Ellerslie 
 comes he's aye worse. You'll not be going
 
 42 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 in for supper perhaps, sir ? I can bring you 
 anything you like up to your own room/' 
 
 I was rather glad to escape seeing them 
 again, for my head was aching; I had drunk 
 more wine than usual with me, at dinner, and 
 the smoky atmosphere of the drawing-room 
 had rather overpowered me. I accepted his 
 offer therefore, and was shown by him to my 
 own room, where he supplied me bounteously 
 with food enough for three men. 
 
 " You say that Mr. Godfrey always quar- 
 rels with Mr. Ellerslie ?'* 1 asked, wishing to 
 learn something more concerning my new 
 companions. 
 
 " Not that exactly,'' said Nichols ; " you 
 see, sir, it takes two to make a quarrel, and 
 Mr. Ellerslie is no to be drawn into that sort 
 of thing, especially when, what with wine 
 and brandy, and one thing and another, Mr. 
 Godfrey is a wee bit out of his head. But I 
 must not stand talking, sir, if you are not 
 wanting me for anything else,'' he added, de- 
 sirous, I thought, to escape the subject;
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 43 
 
 " they'll be wanting me to bring them the 
 brandy." 
 
 He left me, and I have employed the time 
 since then in writing this for you, dearest 
 Alice. How I shall get on at Wingbourne I 
 cannot guess, with no other society than its 
 lazy, self-indulgent master, his nephew (of 
 whom it would be difficult to say if he is 
 most sot or most fool), and a young lady so 
 flighty, or so ignorant of common propriety, 
 as to wander over this wild country late at 
 night. I am not likely to find much in com- 
 mon with any of them, and shall probably 
 stay only a few days at the place.
 
 44 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FLO's HOME, 
 
 July 2Vth. — A week has passed since the 
 last entry in this journal, and since then I 
 have made further acquaintance with the in- 
 habitants of this strange old house; I hardly 
 know whether, as a whole, they have gained 
 or lost in my opinion, but as it is certainly 
 modified in some particulars, I had better tell 
 you seriatim what has occurred. 
 
 On the morning after my first arrival at 
 at Wingbourne I rose tolerably early. The
 
 THE MASTER OF WING BOURNE. 45 
 
 noises in the house had not died away till 
 late, and for two or three hours I was the 
 undisturbed possessor of the house and 
 grounds. I took this opportunity of making 
 better acquaintance with the place than the 
 short view I had already had gave me. 01 
 the house itself, I had only yet seen the 
 drawing and dining rooms, the long, barn-like 
 entrance hall with a square wooden staircase 
 of solid oak, but neither polished nor ele- 
 gantly built, and the long, low corridor which 
 led to my room ; but further I could not ven- 
 ture to explore without due guidance. I 
 opened the hall door, and went out into the 
 enclosure of stable yards and cattle sheds. A 
 cursory inspection showed me that these were 
 well stocked, and I then sauntered off towards 
 the garden, which, as I have said before, lay 
 outside the wall and sunk fence, and commu- 
 nicated with the house by a narrow, paved 
 walk, trellised at the sides with ivy, mingled 
 now with roses in full bloom. 
 
 The garden showed the same want of unity
 
 46 THE MASTER OF WI.NGBOURNE. 
 
 in design as the house, and was, if possible, 
 still worse kept. A large, raggedly mown 
 lawn was cat across in the middle by a group 
 of fantastically shaped flower-beds ; a terrace 
 commanding a view of the gently encircling 
 hills came suddenly to a stop before a brick 
 wall, built as if with the express object of 
 excluding all scenery whatever ; and garden 
 frames were placed close alongside of falling 
 and decayed summer-houses. Still, owing to 
 the sheltered situation of the house, both 
 flowers and shrubs flourished better than in 
 the surrounding country, and were seemingly 
 as luxuriant as though we had been in the 
 southern counties of England, instead of one 
 bordering upon the bleak hills of North 
 Wales; and the beauty of nature compensated 
 for the disorder into which the neglect of man 
 had allowed the garden to fall. 
 
 i had walked up and down for an hour or 
 two, speculating concerning the strange 
 character of my new acquaintances, when I 
 heard myself hailed from afar, and, looking
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 47 
 
 round, saw Godfrey making' his way towards 
 me, across grass, gravel, and flower beds 
 with equal indifference. I felt disinclined to 
 meet him after his disgraceful ebullition the 
 previous evening, but I remembered that if 1 
 were to stay a few days (it should not be 
 more) in Mr. Carslope's house, I had better 
 keep on good terms with his nephew, and, 
 therefore, I met him with all the cordiality 
 that he now seemed desirous of showing me. 
 The cheery '' good morning '' with which he 
 greeted me might have been owing to a wish 
 of making amends, but more probably, for as 
 he was at the time half drunk 1 did not give 
 him credit for remembering his conduct, to 
 some recent injunction of his uncle's to treat 
 his guest with civility. But however hospit- 
 able his intentions were, he had not the wit 
 to follow them up by any manner of conver- 
 sation, and one attempt after another which I 
 made fell through from his inability to carry 
 them on. At last I mentioned hunting, and
 
 48 THE MASTER OF WlNGBOURNE. 
 
 on this subject, if no other, he was able to 
 speak. 
 
 " I like it. I was in Ijeicestershire last 
 winter — splendid hunting there. Not much 
 chance in this place, but I brought my hunter 
 here. A cleverish nag. Have you seen the 
 stables? Shall I show him to you ?" 
 
 " I passed them, but I paid no particular 
 attention to any of the animals. It will give 
 rae great pleasure to see them with you.'^ 
 
 We went towards the stable. As we 
 walked his talk was entirely of horses and 
 dogs. In this he took the lead, for I know 
 but little of the matter — am content to admire 
 a fine horse when he is shown me, without 
 entering into all the points of skilful farriery, 
 and am better acquainted with tiger-shooting 
 than with any of our English sports. If I 
 stay, I have no doubt I shall improve in all 
 these qualifications for a country gentleman, 
 for Godfrey's next discourse to me was upon 
 the most sportsmanlike method to draw a
 
 THE MASTER OP WINGBOURNE. 49 
 
 badger. For the present, however, he was 
 intent upon showing me his horse. 
 
 '' This is it," he said, leading out from its 
 loose box the handsome creature upon whose 
 merits he had been descanting. '' You see 
 what a forehand he's got and how well he's 
 ribbed up." 
 
 I admired in all sincerity, while the horse, 
 as if conscious that every word its master 
 spoke was in its praise, bent its head towards 
 him, and rubbed its nose fondly against his 
 shoulder. 
 
 '' And is that other horse yours also ?" I 
 asked, pointing to a dark grey, serviceable, 
 but not handsome animal, which a groom was 
 rubbing down; ''or is that Mr. Carslope's?" 
 
 " That ? Not my uncle's, be has better 
 than that. That horse is EUerslie's," and he 
 added, under his breath. '"'• An ill-conditioned 
 brute, like himself!" 
 
 Desirous not to excite his anger again, I 
 forbore to make any remark upon this aside, 
 and merely asked, 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 THE MASTER OF WiNGBOURNE. 
 
 " Does Mr. Ellerslie remain here for any 
 length of time?'* 
 
 '' He may, if my uncle asks him. He 
 seldom comes here, but when he does he 
 often stays a week or two. I can't show you 
 the prettiest beast in the stables. Flo' has 
 that, but she will be back to-day, and then 
 you can see Meg. I broke her in. She is 
 high-spirited, and needs a strong hand; but 
 Flo' is a good horsewoman, and can take a 
 fence with the best of us. I did wish for her, 
 to be sure, last winter in Leicestershire.'' 
 
 " Does Miss Carslope generally ride out 
 alone on her long excursions ?" I asked. 
 
 " As often as not. Sometimes I go with 
 her. I asked her yesterday if I should go 
 with her (if I had she would not have lost 
 her way), but she preferred to be alone. She 
 always does as she likes, and she always 
 shall. V\ e should have been married last 
 autumn, only she preferred to wait another 
 year." 
 
 " Married !" I exclaimed in astonishment.
 
 THE MAST.'R OF WINGBOURNE. 5l 
 
 The idea of a ladj, for Mr. Carslope's daugh- 
 ter, thoup'h she mio-ht be eccentric and self- 
 
 7 c5 
 
 willed, must still be a lady, married to a boor 
 like the man I was speaking to, with no edu- 
 cation, and no natural gifts to compensate for 
 the want of it, seemed to me preposterous 
 and revolting. Dull-witted as he was, he 
 understood the meaning of the incredulity my 
 tone expressed, and answered surlily, 
 
 " I said 'married.' My cousin Flo' is to 
 be my wife next September. We shall live 
 here, and perhaps I shall change my name — 
 at least, I would change it to Ellerslie, only 
 it's his name.'* 
 
 The clanging sound of the alarum bell put 
 an end to this lucid explanation, and with all 
 his usual brusquerie of manner Godfrey mut- 
 tered the word " breakfast," and took his way 
 towards the house. I construed the word 
 into an invitation and followed him. 
 
 The breakfast room, though smaller, was 
 panelled and furnished much after the same 
 pattern as the two rooms I had already seen. 
 
 t D 2
 
 52 THE MASTEU OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 Mr. Carslope was standing there, and witli 
 him his guest of the previous night. 
 
 Mr. Ellerslie was a different looking man 
 to either Mr. Carslope or his nephew. His 
 features had an intellectual cast like the old 
 gentleman, but were destitute of the hand- 
 someness which still distinguished his, and 
 though more finely cut, were not nearly so 
 comely as those of the clownish Godfrey. 
 Not that I would have you infer he is ugly ; 
 he has nothing sufficiently striking about him 
 to merit that name; it is a common, gentle- 
 manly face, such as you may see every day in 
 London, with nothing either in expression or 
 feature to fix your attention on it. It might 
 be described (if it must be described at all), 
 in Olivia's words, '' Item, two grey eyes with 
 lids to them, — item, one nose, one chin, and 
 so forth." And yet now I think of it, those 
 aforesaid grey eyes do merit something more. 
 They are very bright, very keen, and contain 
 all the expression that is generally to be seen 
 in his face. If he smiles, his eyes smile and
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 53 
 
 not his mouth ; if he frowns, they have an 
 intent glare in them. I have seen him angry 
 now and then, and at those times they literally 
 flash with rage. A sensitive nature might be 
 withered up by their glance^ and I have some- 
 times thought that, if looks could kill, Elierslie 
 might be responsible for one or two accidents 
 of that nature. Similes apart, he does not 
 look the sort of man one would care to make 
 angry, and there are certain hard lines round 
 his mouth which speak of an obstinate will 
 and an unyielding temperament. 
 
 However, all these reflections were not made 
 during that first morning at breakfast. I 
 thought him then a common-place man 
 enough, — rather tall, rather pale, but not 
 striking in any way, and of any age between 
 thirty and forty. He took his fair share of 
 conversation, but not more, and what he said 
 was sensible, always practical, and sometimes 
 inclining to the saturnine. I learnt that he 
 was a farmer, living about twenty miles from 
 Wingbourne, in a far more rugged and barren
 
 54 THE MASTER OF WINGBOJJRNE. 
 
 district. I heard, too, that he had not been 
 here within the last six months. 
 
 " And now you are here T hope you will 
 stay. You must not think of leaving us," 
 said Mr. Carslope, with the same exuberant 
 hospitality in his tone, as he had displayed to 
 me the day before. EUerslie made no reply. 
 '' Eh, Godfrey ? I think we can make him 
 comfortable, do not you?" pursued Mr. 
 Carslope. 
 
 " He may stop or go, for what I care," was 
 Godfrey's response, and he left the room. 
 
 Even Mr. Carslope, accustomed as he must 
 necessarily be to the discourtesy of this ill- 
 mannered clown, seemed struck by the un- 
 graciousness of his answer, and felt it 
 incumbent on him to apologise, but it was not 
 to Mr. EUerslie, the offended party, that he did 
 so, but to me, who, as a stranger, might think 
 it more necessary. 
 
 ''The poor fellow is restless," he said, 
 soothingly. '' It is always so when my 
 daughter is out. You have no idea liow he
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUiiNE. 55 
 
 looks up to her. We must make allowances 
 you know for him, Mr. Antony. And that 
 reminds me that I want to have a few words 
 with you in private, this morning.' ' 
 
 '' Pray don't let me be an interruption," 
 said Ellerslie, and taking up a newspaper, 
 the first I had seen in the house, and which I 
 afterwards found he had brought there himself, 
 he retired to the window. 
 
 " What I have to say is resolvable into a 
 very fiew words, Mr. Antony," said the Master 
 of Wingbourne. '' You must excuse me if I 
 ofier a little advice. Some people give advice 
 and others take it; our parts are severally 
 allotted to us in this world. Your poor 
 father, Wy vil, always used to give me advice, 
 though I was two years his senior It all lies 
 in habit and experience, and you are still 
 young, so a word or two of caution . . ." 
 
 I intimated that I should never dream of 
 taking exception at his advice. 
 
 '' It mostly concerns yourself, too, for after 
 all you would be the one to suffer. My
 
 56 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 daughter Flo' — By-the-bye, Ellerslie, is she 
 coming home by herself, or am I to send for 
 her ?" 
 
 '^ By herself, I believe," answered Ellerslie, 
 without looking up from his newspaper. 
 
 '' As she pleases. Then, as I was saying, 
 Antony, she will be home in a few hours ; 
 and as — in short, as she is not an ill-looking 
 young woman, T would wish you to keep 
 your heart perfectly whole, for she is as good 
 as a married woman, I warn you, having 
 been engaged to my nephew for many years/' 
 
 I told him that Mr. Godfrey Thurston had 
 already informed me of that fact, and was 
 prepared to close the subject; but Mr. Cars- 
 lope was not content to do so. He fidgetted 
 uneasily in his chair, and after some hesita- 
 tion, continued — 
 
 '' He is not the husband in all respects I 
 would have chosen for her. He has had no 
 education, as I and your father had, and your- 
 self also, Mr. Antony, but he has a good 
 heart, and is very fond of her. And she may
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 57 
 
 make of him what she pleases. They will be 
 a happy couple, though there does seem some 
 disparity ; but Flo' is very well content. She 
 is much attached to him, and always has been 
 since they were children together, and I should 
 be very sorry if any attentions on your part 
 were to make her less satisfied with our family 
 arrangements/' 
 
 " I assure you, sir, I have no desire of in- 
 terfering in any manner. I should be very 
 sorry to do so. Miss Carslope is the best 
 judge of her own happiness." 
 
 '^ Aye, aye, but that is not quite enough. 
 I may trust you, I am sure, not to wish 
 to make her change her mind, after what 
 I have told you, for she is to be married 
 next September; but I shall be sincerely 
 obliged to you if you will not show her any 
 attentions, any of the manners of the great 
 world, to which she has not been accustomed, 
 living so much secluded, and which Godfrey, 
 of course, poor lad, has never acquired.'' 
 
 " Mr. Wyvil will find it a hard business to 
 
 D 5
 
 58 Tllh MASTi:R OF WI^Gli^UKNE. 
 
 limit his powers of pleasing to matters in 
 which Godfrey can excel him," said Ellerslie, 
 in a dr)^ tone of sarcasm. 
 
 ''Ellerslie, you are hard on the poor lad. 
 God knows he is not all I could wish for my 
 successor on the estate, but he is my wife's 
 nephew, and I will not have him maligned, 
 even by you, or spoken worse of than he 
 merits." 
 
 " There is no necessity to do that, in my 
 opinion," was Ellerslie's indifferent reply, 
 which provoked another remonstrance from 
 Mr. Carslope, during which I escaped from the 
 room, undesirous to be a witness of the family 
 dissensions, if such existed, and rather morti- 
 fied at the embargo laid upon my gallantry. 
 I was not desirous to fascinate Miss Carslope; 
 far from it. A woman who was content and 
 satisfied with such a husband as had been 
 selected for her by her father, could not have 
 the refinement of taste which was necessary 
 to make her tolerably pleasing. She was 
 probably an illiterate, coarse, country girl, and
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 59 
 
 nothing more ; but it was hard to be for- 
 bidden to be even commonly civil, for with- 
 out coxcombry, Alice, it did not appear to 
 me that, short of being absolutely rude and 
 ungentlemanlike, I could fall behind the 
 graces of her present lumpish admirer. 
 
 He joined me the moment I had left the 
 house, and showed himself even more clown- 
 ish than before. I guessed that he had been 
 drinking already, early as it was in the day, 
 and my contempt for him began to merge 
 into positive repulsion. We were standing 
 near the principal gate of the enclosure, talk- 
 ing, or rather saying a few words at intervals, 
 and I was about to announce my intention of 
 walking off by myself to explore the country, 
 when a clear, girlish voice, close to us, as 
 it seemed, called out, 
 
 " Godfrey, dear, open the gate." 
 
 A sudden illumination passed over the 
 
 countenance of the young rustic ; he looked 
 
 for the moment positively handsome, as with 
 
 an animation that reminded me of his excite-
 
 60 TPE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 naent the night before, he sprang towards the 
 gate, and began to undo its complicated fasten- 
 ings, saying joyously, 
 
 " Can't you clear it, Flo*, or is Meg tired?" 
 
 " Still lame from last night, and T am, oh, 
 so tired,'' said the voice, and the gate open- 
 ing, the rider paced slowly in. 
 
 " Tired, are you ? Let me lift you down, 
 Flo'. She will go to the stables by herself, 
 poor beastie. Loose her bridle — so. Now 
 let me take you." 
 
 He lifted her oif the saddle as he spoke, 
 whilst I had ample opportunity to observe 
 her, for it was full two minutes before she 
 noticed me. 
 
 I would, if I could, give you a minute 
 description of Miss Carslope, as I saw her then 
 for the first time, but I am not sure I should 
 be saying what I thought then, or what I 
 think now after a whole week spent in each 
 other's society. I saw a slight and not very 
 tall girl, with brown masses of hair rather 
 than curls, falling on her shoulders, and a
 
 THE MASTER OF WIXGBOURNE. 61 
 
 complexion that would be fair were it not 
 somewhat tanned b^ constant exposm-e to 
 the air, while exercise brings a rich, peach- 
 like bloom to her cheeks. Her face is not, 
 I believe, faultless in outline, but no one in 
 looking at her could have the heart to dis- 
 cover a defect, for its expression of fearless 
 and innocent confidence would disarm the 
 severest critic. Her eyes are large and 
 darker in colour than her hair, and have 
 something of the bright shyness of the stag 
 in their glance, — fearless so long as danger is 
 not imminent, but showing little power to 
 cope with it when it came. And as I looked 
 at her I could not help thinking that the 
 bonny Lesly, of whom Burns wrote that the 
 deil's self would " look into thy bonny e'en 
 and say ' I canna wrang thee,' " must have had 
 much the same frank, truthfid expression as 
 Florence Carslope. 
 
 Had not her father told me her age, I 
 should have judged her to be much younger 
 than she really is ; either owing to her bright
 
 62 THE MASTER OF WINGBJUKNE. 
 
 and rather girlish face and slender figure, or 
 to her lack of the polish of a woman of the 
 world, she does not look as she is, nearly 
 twenty. And yet she is very different from 
 the rustic, awkward country girl, with man- 
 ners but little superior to those of her des- 
 tined bridegroom, whom I had begun to 
 expect. There is about her a mixture of 
 simplicity and untaught grace, which made 
 me from the first feel I could never obey her 
 father's injunction and treat her with inatten- 
 tion. She was dressed when 1 first saw her 
 in a dark, closely-fitting riding habit, and a 
 black hat, not of the high crowned, '' cross 
 country '' species, w^th a black ostrich feather 
 curling and losing itself amidst her disordered 
 locks. 
 
 I believe Godfrey could have looked at her 
 for the rest of the day without recollecting 
 my presence, but Miss Carslope herself per- 
 ceived me. 
 
 " Who is this gentleman, Godfrey ?" she 
 said. " You have not introduced me.''
 
 THE MASTLR OF WING BOURNE. 63 
 
 '' I forgot his name," said Godfrey, can- 
 didly. " Stop ! it's Mr. Antony — something ; 
 he came last night." 
 
 '' Mr. Wy vil, whom father was expecting 
 from India ?'' she asked, and she held out her 
 little ungloved hand to me. It was small 
 and soft, but rather brown, like her cheek. 
 " Father will be very glad of your com- 
 pany," she continued ; '' he is very dull with 
 only Godfrey and me to talk to him." 
 
 '' I should be extremely glad if my being 
 here is any pleasure to Mr. Carslope," I said, 
 '^ but my visit to Wingbourne will be so 
 short that—" 
 
 " Ah," she interrupted, " we have not any- 
 thing to tempt you to stay." The words 
 were spoken so simply, so without any ex- 
 pectation of producing a compliment, that it 
 was with difficulty I remembered and obeyed 
 her father's behest, and constrained myself to 
 speak as simply as herself. 
 
 '' Mr. Ellerslie told us you were safe last
 
 64 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 night. Mr. Carslope was becoming very 
 anxious for your return before he arrived.'^ 
 
 " It was very kind of Cousin Ellerslie to 
 come. I told him it was too late, and the 
 house would be shut up ; but I had no sooner 
 sat down by Mrs. Clark's fire, than he mounted 
 again and would come. Is he still here ?'' 
 
 '' Yes, in the house with your father," I 
 answered, mentally adding, " it is evident you 
 are too sensible to share that cub's unreason- 
 ing antipathy towards his well meaning and 
 respectable relation.'' 
 
 " How was it you met him, Flo', darling ?'' 
 said the young Boeotian. 
 
 " I had lost my way, and it was getting 
 dark, and I was beginning to be anxious 
 about the road, for I had not been on that 
 side of the hill for several months, and I 
 think the place is altered. I met a man, and 
 he directed nie ; but I missed the road again, 
 and must have gone some miles out of the way ; 
 and after it grew quite dark, I met Ellerslie.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 65 
 
 I was SO frightened when I first heard a horse's 
 feet, and so glad it proved to be him. He 
 said it was too late for me to go home that 
 night, as it was beginning to rain, and Meg 
 was lame, and could not go much above a 
 walk, and he took me to the farm, and asked 
 Mrs. Clark to give me a night's lodging. She 
 is a pleasant woman, and seemed glad to 
 do it.^' 
 
 *' And Mr. Ellerslie then came on here?'' 
 I said. 
 
 ." Yes, he would not stay ; he left us sitting 
 down to supper — farm labourers and all. I 
 forget what reason he gave, but I know his 
 real motive was to remove father's anxiety." 
 
 Mr. Ellerslie must have judged from what 
 his own feelings as a father would have been, 
 not from what really existed, I thought, but 
 what T said was prompted by seeing her look 
 flushed and tired. 
 
 " I fear your ride has fatigued you. Are 
 we not keeping you too long away from the 
 house?"
 
 66 THE MASTER OF Wi.NGBOUKNE. 
 
 " Are you tired, Flo' ?" said her lover, with 
 a sort of awkward anxiety. 
 
 He would never have noticed it till she had 
 dropped from fatigue. 
 
 Miss Carslope acknowledged that she was, 
 and we went into the house. She had a 
 headache, she said, for she had been thinking 
 about her father'^ anxiety during the night, 
 and could not sleep. I was relieved to find 
 it had not been her own will and intention to 
 scare her family by remaining out all night. 
 She was not so eccentric as I had imagined 
 her, though heaven knows what difference 
 that can make to me, or why I feel pleasure 
 in finding her superior to what I thought her, 
 if she is to be mated so far beneath her that her 
 future life must be embittered by the con- 
 sciousness of the inequality. 
 
 I saw her no more till the evenino' and 
 hardly anything of Godfrey ; I believe he 
 would gladly have devoted the whole day to 
 her service, if he could. At any rate when I 
 went into the drawing-room before dinner I
 
 THE MASr^K UF WliNGBOURNE. 67 
 
 found her reclining on one of the sofas, and 
 her uncouth adorer kneeling on the floor aside 
 of her, not talking, but apparently perfectly 
 content to hold her hand in his, and looking 
 as dumb and as faithful in his devotion as 
 her large mastiff Syphax, who was crouched 
 at the foot of the sofa, intently watching her, 
 and ready to wag his tail and cock his ears, 
 when her unoccupied hand was passed over 
 his shaggy coat, or a word of encouragement 
 spoken to him. In this last respect he was 
 better off than his human worshipper, for she 
 did not speak to him at all ; but he appeared 
 perfectly satisfied without it. 
 
 I could not perceive that his satisfaction at 
 her return made him drink any the less at 
 dinner, indeed he rather exceeded ; but that 
 might be out of compliment to Ellerslie, who 
 repeatedly refilled his glass as soon as empty, 
 though not passing the bounds of the strictest 
 moderation himself. But whilst thus pledg- 
 ing Godfrey to drink he eyed him with a cool 
 contempt, which I shared, but which would
 
 68 THE MASTER OP^ WINGBOURNE. 
 
 have been with me incompatible with en- 
 couraging him in excess. 
 
 As we entered the drawing-room, I heard 
 Ellerslie say to Florence, in an undertone of 
 which the sarcasm was judiciously veiled by 
 concern, 
 
 " You must not leave us so soon another 
 night. Your cousin needs some one to. keep 
 him within the bounds of moderation. For 
 a young man his powers of drinking are un- 
 surpassed.'* 
 
 " Could not you prevent him ?'' she asked, 
 eagerly. " It passes my influence. '* 
 
 " If you fail, I should certainly not suc- 
 ceed. Such characters as his are very hardly 
 influenced, but I thought he cared enough for 
 you to abstain." 
 
 Our party arranged itself for the evening. 
 Mr. Carslope endeavoured to secure us for a 
 game at whist, but this, Ellerslie declining, and 
 the nephew not being considered capable of 
 bearing a hand, was abandoned. I was again 
 summoned to be his antagonist in backgam-
 
 THE MASTER OF WI.NGBOURNE. C9 
 
 mon, to my annoyance, while Ellerslie seated 
 himself near Florence, and began talking to 
 her, undisturbed by the presence of the cub, 
 who took his station near them , leaning over the 
 back of a chair, and watching with, I fancy, 
 somewhat obscured vision the faces of the two. 
 Florence now and then addressed a word to 
 him, as if to show him he was not quite for- 
 gotten; but in general the subjects of the 
 conversation must have been far beyond his 
 comprehension. I lost several points of the 
 game in endeavouring to catch what was 
 said, hut without success, for we were 
 separated by the entire length of the room ; 
 but as the smoking had not been quite so long 
 indulged in as on the previous evening, and 
 the atmosphere of the room was clearer, I 
 was able to study the countenances of the 
 group. Godfrey, with a sort of heavy yet 
 eager curiosity to know what they said; 
 Ellerslie, with his dark, keen eyes fixed on her 
 face with an expression of admiration I could 
 not misread; and Florence, si iiple and unem-
 
 70 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 barrassed, talking because she was interested 
 in the subject, but with no view to effect, and 
 not an atom of self-consciousness. I could 
 have watched them for many hours.
 
 THE MASTi':R OF WINaBOURNE. 71 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A SNAKE IN THE GRASS. 
 
 Diary continued. — The next morning I was 
 standing alone in the drawing-room, turning 
 over the only thing in the shape of a book 
 visible, a book of flies for angling, made with 
 considerable skill and neatness. I had always 
 despised angling as a useless and unsocial 
 employment, but 1 began to fancy that in the 
 present dearth of objects of interest, I might 
 be obliged to take it up. As I was lazily 
 speculating which fly might be the best for a
 
 7"- THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 tyro to begin with, a dress brushed past me, 
 and looking up T saw Florence standing aside 
 of me. 
 
 She was dressed as she always is, very 
 simply ; generally in silk of some dark colour, 
 with no ornament, not even a brooch to re- 
 lieve it, and her hair brushed away from her 
 face, and falling in heavy, unstudied curls. 
 Yet there is an air of refinement about her 
 which I have seldom seen equalled. And 
 her voice and manner, though perfectly un- 
 afifected, are always sweet and feminine. She 
 was the first to speak. 
 
 '•'• You are looking at those flies, Mr. Wy vil. 
 I made most of them myself last winter, with 
 
 Godfrey. He is a very tolerable angler. 
 
 Are you ?" 
 
 " I know hardly anything about it, but if 
 
 he will instruct me I shall have great 
 
 pleasure in learning," I answered, with some 
 
 hypocrisy. 
 
 "You will like it — at least you may like 
 
 it;'' and then she added after a moment's
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUKNE. <3 
 
 pause, "I do not think you will care about 
 it." 
 
 " Why not ? We like whatever we can 
 excel in, and of course I mean to excel. Why 
 should you think I cannot like it, if Mr. 
 Thurston does?" 
 
 "Because you want more lively amuse- 
 ments, perhaps," said Florence, simply. 
 " Anglers are obliged to be silent, and had 
 better, I believe, be alone; so, though I often 
 go out with Godfrey, I generally take a book, 
 and read it the whole time." 
 
 " The best resource with such a compan- 
 ion," I mentally rejoined; but said aloud, 
 " You have then some books in the house, 
 Miss Carslope? Is there a library? I have 
 seen no books in any room I have been in." 
 
 " We have not many," said Florence ; " at 
 least, not what you would call many, though 
 I have not read halt of them ; but we have 
 nothing new that you would care to see." 
 
 " What does your father read in the winter, 
 when it rains? Newspapers?" 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 THE MASTER OF WTNGBOURNE. 
 
 '' We do not take newspapers. Father 
 does not care about them. Mr. Ellerslie sends 
 us the local one every week, after he has read 
 it." 
 
 " And you have no lending library or book 
 club ?" I asked, with some amusement, not 
 contemptuous, Alice, (at least not of her) ; 
 but I suppose she thought it sounded so, for 
 her colour rose as she answered, 
 
 "We have nothing but some old books 
 that used to belong to father when he was 
 young, and a few mother had. I am glad 
 your visit is in the summer time, Mr. Wyvil, 
 when you will feel the want of these amuse- 
 ments less. Had it been the winter, you 
 vv^ould not have been able to endure a day 
 without them, though your society is a very 
 great delight to my father.'' 
 
 '' I am by no means such a bookworm as 
 you suppose me to be,'' I answered, hastily. 
 " 1 can enjoy a good book of any sort when 
 1 get it, but I think the man who cannot pass 
 a day, or a summer even, without one, must
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 75 
 
 have profited very little by what he has read. 
 Will you show me this old library ?'' 
 
 '' Have you not seen it ?" 
 
 " I know only a few rooms in the house. I 
 was waiting for your guidance, Miss Carslope, 
 before I explored further." 
 
 '' I will show you at once/' she said ; and 
 I followed her, glad to have secured her for 
 my companion for an hour without interrup- 
 tion. 
 
 I had caught sight of her churlish swain 
 in the stable yard, and guessed that he was 
 not likely to break away from his favourite 
 employments, and Mr. Ellerslie was, I knew, 
 talking to the Master of Wingbourne, so we 
 were left unmolested. It was pleasant to walk 
 by her side, though it were only for a short 
 time, and listen to her voice, the only pleasant 
 voice in the house. Mr. Godfrey Thurston's 
 mode of speech I have already described; 
 her father's, though it had a cheery ring, was 
 now too much associated with insincerity and 
 
 E 2
 
 76 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 selfishness to be altogether agreeable; and 
 Ellerslie's, though quite refined and gentle- 
 manly, had a touch of harshness and irony- 
 running through it, that spoiled it for my ears. 
 The servants, with the exception of old 
 Nichols, who was a Scotchman, spoke with 
 the broadest Welsh accent, so that Florence 
 Carslope's sweetly attuned English was like 
 music in comparison. 
 
 She took me through a door leading out 
 from one side of the hall, into what I soon 
 discovered to be the oldest part of the house. 
 A long, low corridor, the floor covered with 
 matting, running the whole length of the 
 house, with rooms on each side, disused and 
 for the most part with closed shutters ; but 
 through chinks in these the daylight dimly 
 forced its way, betraying a venerable stateli- 
 ness the rest of Wingbourne utterly lacked. 
 The furniture was scanty, and in some rooms 
 entirely wanting, but the smooth oaken floors, 
 well-proportioned windows, handsome mantel-
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE, 77 
 
 pieces, and in some cases, scrolled and orna- 
 mental ceilings, showed that the house had 
 once been far superior to its present condition. 
 
 In the furthest of the rooms Florence stop- 
 ped and began to take down the shutters. I 
 offered to assist her. 
 
 " The fastenings are very simple," she said, 
 " or else have been used more than the others. 
 We need only open one window. You do not 
 want to read the books, only to see that there 
 are a few.'' 
 
 There were three or four heavy oaken cases 
 ranged round the room, and these were filled 
 with old and dingily bound volumes, for the 
 most part thickly deep in dust. On the 
 upper shelves lay some gayer books, albums, 
 and literary keepsakes of far back years, as 
 dusty as the rest. 
 
 " But this is Latin; a treatise on law," I 
 said, in surprise, taking out one of the 
 books. "' You do not read this, Miss Oar- 
 slope?" 
 
 '' No, my father was to have been a lawyer
 
 78 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 when he was young. I read no language but 
 English," said Florence, adding, half timidly, 
 *' I daresay you have sisters, Mr. Wyvil, and 
 that they are very accomplished.' ' 
 
 " I have only one,'' I said, " and she is 
 married, and lives in India. She is certainly 
 very clever." (You must forgive me, Alice, 
 for acknowledging thus much). 
 
 " Is she of your own age ?" 
 
 " Older by three or four years. I wish 
 you had happened to see her when she was 
 in England. You would have liked her." 
 
 " I wish we had. We see no one," said 
 Florence. " No lady, I mean ; and Mr. Joy 
 is the only person I like." 
 
 " I have not met him." 
 
 " He is a clever man ; studied as a doctor, 
 I believe, but since he settled here he has 
 never practised, except as a veterinary sur- 
 geon. Father always asks him to come if 
 there is anything amiss on the farm. Shall 
 we go on ? I can come back and close the 
 shutters afterwards."
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE, 79 
 
 At the end of tlie corridor was a staircase. 
 
 which led to the gallery above, and this 
 again gave access to several empty rooms. 
 As Florence threw open the doors of these, 
 she heard her name called loudly from 
 below. 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself to come to us, 
 Flo', my darling," said Mr. Carslope, as he 
 slowly mounted the stairs. '' We heard you 
 come this way, and Ellerslie could not rest 
 content unless he came too. You are show- 
 ing Mr. Wy vil the house, are you, darling ?" 
 
 " Yes, father, but he has seen all that is 
 worth seeing, except the kitchens — they are 
 old, I believe. I forgot the billiard room. 
 You play billiards, I suppose?" she added, 
 turning to me, and I assented. 
 
 " Another point of sympathy between us," 
 said Mr. Carslope, smiling. " I have only a 
 chance of a game when Ellerslie is here, ex- 
 cept now and then with Flo', for Godfrey does 
 not care for those things. He is no player 
 of any sort. He will not practise enough for
 
 so THE MASTEE OF WINGB^URNE. 
 
 games of skill, and games of chance he thinks 
 utterly stupid/' 
 
 "A fortunate thing for him with such 
 associates as his/' I thought, but Ellerslie 
 seemed to view the matter differently ; he 
 observed, 
 
 '' Perhaps he says he does not like them 
 when he is at home with you." 
 
 " Godfrey never says one thing and means 
 another!" exclaimed Florence, with more 
 asperity than I had supposed to be in her 
 nature ; and she added, half pleadingly, to her 
 father, '^ let us go down, now ; we have seen 
 everything." 
 
 " Have you shown Mr. Wyvil your sanc- 
 tum, Florence ?" said Ellerslie, who seemed 
 perfectly indifferent to her anger. 
 
 '' I never take any one there, cousin," she 
 answered, but her father interrupted her, 
 
 " Pshaw ! let us see it all, Flo', now we 
 are up here. It is a ghostly old place 
 enough, and I should not care to stay there 
 by myself after dark, as I have known you
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 81 
 
 do, time and again ; but we are a good com- 
 pany together now, so let us see it.'' 
 
 Florence demurred no farther, but unlock- 
 ing a door at the end of the gallery, the fur- 
 thest removed from the staircase and window, 
 she led the way up another flight of dark, 
 steep stairs. 
 
 ''Open the door at the top, my child," 
 cried Mr- Carslope, as we groped our way up. 
 
 She did so, but the light which glimmered 
 in was a very faint one, nor could we have 
 guessed that we were coming to an attic with 
 four large windows, till we actually stood at 
 the top and looked round. 
 
 It was the oddest sort of sanctum that a 
 young lady ever had. A large attic, high in 
 the centre, but the roof gradually sloping to- 
 wards the sides. There were, as I have said, 
 four large windows, but from only one of 
 them could any view be seen, for the others 
 were thickly veiled with dust and cobwebs. 
 Curious old furniture was pushed up against 
 the sides of the room, without any attempt at 
 
 E 5
 
 82 THE MASTEE OF WIKaBOURNE. 
 
 arrangement. Old mahogany cupboards, 
 made at a time when mahogany was a scarcer 
 wood than now ; others of the blackest oak, 
 quaintly carved with grinning heads, and 
 contortions of arabesque. A mirror in 
 Venetian setting, the silver tarnished with 
 age, and a large crack across the middle of 
 it, was fastened up atone end of the attic, 
 and hanging on the opposite wall were two 
 old portraits, the likenesses of long forgotten 
 people, with the flesh tints faded to a ghastly 
 yellow, standing out from the homogeneous 
 black to which the rest of the picture had 
 turned. A map of England and another of 
 the World, equally discoloured and almost 
 illegible, hung between the windows, and 
 these were surmounted by bunches of dried, 
 drooping grass. No sign of needlework or 
 any other feminine occupation could be seen; 
 a little table and a low chair drawn up in 
 front of the clean window, the only evidence 
 that the room was ever occupied, and the sole 
 things free from dust. Even in the cheery
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGB^URNE. 83 
 
 morning light, when the sun was streaming 
 in brightly through the southern window, the 
 attic had a forlorn, desolate appearance, and 
 on any gloomy day, or when visited by the 
 pale moonlight, I could imagine it had a 
 most ghostly effect. I felt with Mr. Carslope 
 some surprise that his daughter should care 
 to stay here. 
 
 "A gloomy place and very dusty, FloV he 
 said. •' Shall not Bessy come and arrange it 
 for you ?' 
 
 " I like it best as it is, father, " she an- 
 swered. 
 
 " There is the only thing you like in it,'' 
 said Ellerslie, pointing with his hand to the 
 window. " It is the only view you have in 
 the house." 
 
 The prospect was certainly beautiful 
 enough to justify Florence's taste. The hills 
 which closed in round the house on other 
 sides broke away towards the south, and let 
 in a widel)r extended scene of valley and 
 cliff, bare heath and cultivated fields, and a
 
 84 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 river, meandering silvery white in the dis- 
 tance. The whole was now glowing in the 
 luxury of a glorious July sun. A straggling 
 grove of trees effectually shut out this view 
 from the lower rooms of the house, but here, 
 in this elevated eyrie, Florence could enjoy 
 it, and doubtless it formed her chief reason for 
 liking the place. 
 
 " I wish those trees were away, '^ said 
 Florence, as we all drew near to the win- 
 dow. 
 
 " Can't be, Flo,' " replied her father. " Some 
 years hence their timber may be valuable. 
 It would be sheer waste to cut them down 
 now." 
 
 " Yes, I know," said Florence, " but T think 
 the beauty of one's own house ought to out- 
 weigh that. Don't you, Ellerslie?'' 
 
 " Of an ancestral home — yes, but you can- 
 not expect strangers to the family to care 
 for that," he answered, with so much signifi- 
 cance, that we could only look at the view in 
 silence.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 85 
 
 We soon after left the room. At the 
 bottom of the staircase we met Godfrey. 
 
 " Have you been showing Mr. Wyvil the 
 garret, Flo' T he asked, with a jealous accent. 
 " You aever let me come there/* 
 
 " She prefers only to show the view to 
 those who can appreciate it,'* said Ellerslie, 
 who had a design, as it seemed, to irritate him. 
 
 Godfrey looked angry, and Florence re- 
 proachfully at him. 
 
 " Godfrey and I are going for a ride, " she 
 hastened to say, interrupting her cousin's 
 angry rejoinder. " Will you run and order 
 the horses, Godfrey, dear? Father, will you 
 join us?" 
 
 "No, my dear; you go too fast and too 
 far for me, but Mr. Wyvil will. Godfrey, 
 order a horse to be saddled for Mr. Wyvil." 
 
 "You do not ask me," said Ellerslie to 
 Florence, as we re-passed through the 
 matted gallery, " but I shall take the privilege 
 of an old friend, and come without an invita- 
 tion."
 
 86 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 *'Tf you do, you will entertain Mr. Wyvil,'^ 
 said Florence. 
 
 He made no answer, unless a keenly ad- 
 miring glance was one. 
 
 Our ride began in harmony, but this did 
 not last long. About two miles from the 
 Wingbourne estate, we came to the river 
 which I had seen from the garret. It was 
 not wide, but though the water ran fast and 
 deep, it was only crossed by two planks, laid 
 side by side loosely, without any handrail or 
 other support. Some accident had happened 
 to the bridge, they told me, during the last 
 winter's floods, and it had not yet been re- 
 placed. 
 
 " We must dismount, " said Ellerslie. 
 " You must not attempt to ride across, 
 Florence." 
 
 He sprang off his horse and came to her 
 side to assist her. Godfrey, at the same 
 time, pushed his horse unceremoniously be- 
 tween them, forcing Ellerslie a step or two 
 back.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUENE. 87 
 
 ^' Stand back ! what ai-e you about ?" asked 
 Ellerslie, sharply. 
 
 " Thank you, I like Godfrey's help best," 
 said Miss Carslope, hurriedly " I am used 
 to it, and his arm is the strongest.'* 
 
 With a smile of the broadest triumph did 
 Godfrey dismount, and fairly lift the lady 
 from her saddle in his stalwart arms. If a 
 look could have withered the strength of those 
 arms, as the Italian peasants believe of the 
 evil eye, he would have been a cripple hence- 
 forth ; I never saw a look of such undying 
 hatred in any man's face as in Ellerslie's that 
 moment, but Godfrey was insensible to it. 
 Ellerslie gave no vent to his passion in words, 
 but seizing with a hasty hand the bridle of 
 the horse Florence had ridden, attempted to 
 urge him across the planks. The beast was 
 frightened at the unsteady footing, and refused 
 to move on. 
 
 " She'll not move so. I'll not have the 
 mare's mouth hurt in that way," said Godfrey, 
 who, as usual, seemed ripe for a quarrel.
 
 88 THE MASTEE OF WIKGBOURNE. 
 
 '' Leave go, Ellerslie, you're not fit to manage 
 a cart-horse.'' 
 
 " Cousin Ellerslie, give the horse to him," 
 exclaimed Florence, anxiously. I looked at 
 her, her fair brow was clouded with anxiety ; 
 she evidently feared some coming outbreak. 
 " Let Godfrey take all four horses across. He 
 is used to them, and can manage it." 
 
 Ellerslie loosed his hold of the bridle, and 
 came up the bank to where she stood, saying 
 as he approached her, 
 
 " It would not be strange if he doco under- 
 stand their management. Having spent his 
 life amongst grooms and horsejockeys, hemay 
 well aspire to that accomplishment." 
 
 I could not in my heart but acknowledge 
 the truth of this remark, though at the same 
 time admiring the temper and admirable 
 patience which Godfrey displayed in soothing 
 the refractory and frightened horses, patting 
 them, speaking to them in caressing tones, 
 and finally inducing them one by one to step 
 cautiously after him over the bridge.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 89 
 
 Florence answered, reproachfully, " It is 
 unkind of you, Ellerslie ; doubly unkind, 
 because you are so much the eldest, to quarrel 
 with Godfrey on every occasion/' 
 
 " It is not I who quarrel with him," said 
 Ellerslie. " I forbear with him greatly, more 
 than I would do were he not your cousin/' 
 
 '' You might forbear on your own account," 
 said Florence, '' you are his relation too, and 
 have so much more experience and knowledge 
 of the world than he has." 
 
 " It is enough that you wish it," interrupted 
 Ellerslie. " I would do a greater thing to 
 pleasure you than merely avoiding causes of 
 dispute with a rude churl like Godfrey 
 Thurston." 
 
 " When you call him a churl," repeated 
 Florence, with a heightened colour, "you 
 should remember you speak of my future 
 husband. If you insult him, you insult me 
 as well." 
 
 The two had before this part of the dialogue 
 turned away from me, and walked off to some
 
 90 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 yards distance, out of earshot, had not the 
 clear distinct tones of both EUerslie and his 
 angry kinswoman been raised somewhat 
 beyond their usual pitch. I remained alone, 
 with my eyes fixed on the horses, but unable 
 not to feel deep interest in a conversation 
 which seemed as if it might throw so much light 
 on Miss Carslope's feelings towards her cousin. 
 
 " I do not believe that he will be your 
 future husband," continued EUerslie. " You 
 have obtained one respite already. Your 
 father will not, cannot insist on such a 
 sacrifice,'^ 
 
 " Who tells you that it is a sacrifice?" re- 
 torted Florence, more and more angry. 
 " Why may I not be acting by my own free 
 will?" 
 
 " My eyes, my intellect, tell me you cannot 
 love him," said EUerslie, with cold emphasis. 
 " What is there about him to deserve it ? He 
 is unworthy of you in every way. I could 
 find you a dozen of my own farm labourers 
 his superior in sense; any gentleman's son
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 91 
 
 twelve years old has more acquirements ; any 
 groom will ride better than he does. He has 
 no recommendations whatever. If you marry 
 him you wall pine out your life in discontent 
 and unhappiness, finding out when it is t09 
 late that he has not one thought or aspiration 
 in common with you." 
 
 If I had ever doubted that Miss Carslope 
 could look angry, T should have been con- 
 vinced then; she had after all the hot 
 Ellerslie blood in the same measure as her 
 overbearing kinsman. " How long is it since 
 you have had this high opinion of me?" she 
 interrupted. " Listen to me for one minute ! 
 I utterly decline to enter into this discussion. 
 It neither befits me as Godfrey^s future wife, 
 or you as his relation ; but I must say this — 
 that you do him injustice ; he has moral 
 qualities, patience, gentleness, and a loving, 
 constant nature, that can never fail or dis- 
 appoint me. Even Mr. Wyvil, who has 
 known him so lately, has a far better opinion 
 of him than you have."
 
 92 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 " His patience and gentleness are peculiarly 
 recognisable after dinner," said Ellerslie, 
 with a smile. 
 
 "I will liear no more!" cried Florence, 
 holding up her hand imperiously, and she ran 
 down the steep bank towards the plank bridge, 
 and there beckoned to me^ 
 
 " Mr. Wyvil, shall we cross now? Godfrey 
 has the horses all rightly over, but I should 
 be very glad of your hand to take me 
 across." 
 
 I hastened forwards to give her my assist- 
 ance. On the other side we remounted, and 
 looked round for Ellerslie. He was still 
 standing where she had left him, engaged in 
 knocking off the heads of the tallest grasses 
 with his riding whip. 
 
 " I am coming,'' he said, seeing that the 
 whole party was waiting for him ; but he rode 
 moodily and silently for the next few miles, 
 nor was it till towards the close of the ride, 
 that he recovered his good-humour.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUKNE. 93l 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 RIVALRY. 
 
 Diary continued : — It was impossible to me 
 then, and is still difficult, to understand the 
 terms on which Ellerslie stands with the 
 Carslope family. There is certainly little 
 love lost between them. His dislike of 
 Godfrey is most cordially returned, nor do I 
 think there is any liking on his part for Mr. 
 Carslope, and yet he seems privileged to speak 
 his mind to them with a freedom which a life 
 long friend would hesitate to use. Habit has
 
 f4 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 made Mr. Carslope tolerate in him what, if 
 any other were to attempt to imitate, would 
 be resented at once ; he is, I believe, afraid of 
 him, and at any rate has a respect for his 
 opinion. Even Florence (who certainly does 
 not fear him), though she resented highly his 
 interference between her and Godfrey which 
 I recounted in the last page, appeared to for- 
 get it all, and treated him with not less 
 cordiality than usual. 
 
 But 1 have not since then heard any repeti- 
 tion of the offence on his part ; he no longer 
 presumes to lecture her, or audaciously intrude 
 upon her confidence. His admiration for her 
 is evidently sincere, and he loses no oppor- 
 tunity of displaying it, though I do not think 
 Florence as yet is aware of it. She appears 
 to me to be so accustomed to be the first 
 object of those around her as to overlook the 
 signs of admiration which other girls would 
 be prompt to recognise. But to me, who am 
 more clear-sighted, his attentions to her are 
 most irritating. I have no sufficient reason
 
 THE MASTER OF AVIXGBOURNE. 95 
 
 to give why they should be so. He cannot 
 
 hope, any more than if he were a stranger like 
 
 myself, to win the first place in her hearty 
 
 He stands towards her in precisely the same 
 
 position that I or any other man might do; 
 
 debarred, by her long engagement with 
 
 Godfrey, from ever feeling more than a friendly 
 
 interest in her ; and she treats iis very 
 
 similarly, with the sort of simple ease and 
 
 absence of coquetry which her nature as well 
 
 as the circumstances of the case demand. 
 
 And yet, though her manner towards us is 
 
 exactly the same, and towards both different 
 
 from the peculiar confidence she bestows on 
 
 Godfrey, I am infinitely more jealous when 
 
 Ellerslie sits ttilking to her in the house, or 
 
 rides his horse along side hers, than I am of 
 
 the fond, half doggish attentions of Godfrey, 
 
 who is after all the only one who has a right 
 
 to show her any at all. 
 
 I said jealous, and you will perhaps startle 
 at it, but there is no use in disguising it any 
 longer; I am jealous, and I do love her, hope-
 
 96- THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 less as my affection may seem. I have known 
 her only a week, and she is different, very 
 different, from any woman that I expected 
 to love. She has not one single accomplish- 
 ment, she is ignorant of the commonest 
 school acquirements, she knows nothing of 
 the world or of society, and etiquette would 
 be an abstruse science to her ; and yet, with 
 all this lack of what I used to consider most 
 necessary, she is fascinating to me. And still, 
 whilst I acknowledge this, I know that she 
 can never be mine. I know at least that her 
 father's wishes, her own consent, the united 
 force of habit and family agreement have given 
 her to her cousin. I believe she is resigned 
 to her future destiny, though I do not think 
 she can feel much of love for Godfrey Thurs- 
 ston, and perhaps it is for this very reason 
 that I do not feel jealous of him ; whereas, 
 supposing that barrier to be removed, Eller- 
 slie might be my rival, and a competent one. 
 He evidently does not consider the obstacle 
 insuperable, as her father has in honour
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 97 
 
 bound me to consider it ; and if she were free 
 he would woo lier and possibly win her, for 
 he has the claim of long acquaintanceship, 
 which I have not. But were her present en- 
 gagement once broken, he should not win 
 her without a struggle. However, it is use- 
 less to talk of what might take place in such 
 an event. She is pledged to marry God- 
 frey, than whom a more unworthy mate her 
 father could hardly have found her; and 
 speculation as to what would happen, were it 
 not so, is in vain. 
 
 Meantime, Ellerslie still stays on. I en- 
 deavoured to learn from Nichols what was 
 the original cause of the animosity which 
 exists between him and young Godfrey, for 
 their rivalry with regard to Florence is too 
 recent to have begun it. Nichols answered 
 me doubtfully at first, 
 
 '' Well, sir, it's no just that it can be called 
 a dislike, for Mr, Ellerslie is but seldom here, 
 and the young master has very little to say 
 to him when he comes ; he keeps himself to 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 98 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 himself. Nor would I go so far as to saj 
 there's any great kindness between them. 
 It's just a coolness; hut Mr. Ellerslie is 
 thoroughly proud, and when he is here never 
 interferes in any way in the estate." 
 
 " No, I should think not," I said. "- What 
 pretext could he have for doing so?" 
 
 '^ Well, sir, there's a many say that he has 
 the most right, seeing as till he was a lad of 
 ten years of age, old Mr. Ellerslie, the old 
 gentleman. Miss Florence\s grandfather, had 
 some idea of leaving the place to him, so as 
 to keep the old name in it, for this used to be 
 called the Ellerslie estate, you may be aware, 
 sir. However, the young ladies, Mrs. Car- 
 slope, and her sister that was, Mrs. Thurston, 
 had it, as was but right; but it happened so, 
 you ken, sir, that after Mr. Godfrey, Mr. 
 Ellerslie is the next heir; and it's like he 
 does not forget that always." 
 
 "And how near a relation is he?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " He was third cousin to the young ladies,
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 99 
 
 sir/* answered Nichols — " that is, I don't 
 rightly ken what you call it in England, to 
 Miss Florence; but near or not, I mind well 
 the time when it was thought he would have 
 the estate." 
 
 " The jealousy is well explained," 1 
 thought; but the old majordomo went on, 
 
 " There's some have thought, sir, it was a 
 pity Miss Florence was not to marry Mr. 
 Ellerslie instead of Mr. Godfrey; but the 
 master could never hear of any change being 
 made. He loves Mr. Godfrey like his own 
 son." 
 
 " And Florence acquiesces with her father's 
 decision," I thought, sadly. It is hard to 
 believe that she is content with it ; yet, why 
 should I wish to convince myself that she 
 does not love him, but feels only compassion 
 and indififerencej since, if she marries him, 
 and that seems inevitable, a clearer sense of 
 his demerits would only ensure her greater 
 unhappiness. 
 
 Yesterday evening — it was Sunday — we 
 
 F 2
 
 100 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 had another scene of contention between the 
 kinsmen ; and were I Mr. Carslope, I should 
 never again suffer the presence of both in the 
 same house. It happened in this wise. 
 
 Ellerslie has for the last few days observed 
 a strict neutrality towards Godfrey Thurs- 
 ton ; but has on every occasion sought to in- 
 gratiate himself with Florence. Yesterday, 
 while talking with her, in the garden, before 
 dinner, he happened to gather a single rose- 
 bud, and handed it to her. There was no 
 appearance of gallantry in the act, and she 
 took it as simply as it was given, and 
 fastened it in the front of her dress, not out 
 of consideration for the ornament, but only, 
 as I believe, because she wanted her hands 
 disengaged for something else. Godfrey, who 
 was walking at a little distance, though ap- 
 parently engaged only in knocking off buds 
 and leaves with his riding whip, which he 
 seldom lays aside, observed the offering, and 
 resolved to repeat it. Whether he thought it 
 a gallant action to present a flower, and was
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. * 101 
 
 unwilling that Ellerslie should have the sole 
 credit of it, or he fancied one rose was not 
 sufficient for her merits, I know not ; but as 
 we sat down to table, he presented to her a 
 large bunch of red and white flowers, massy, 
 round, and large, as are the bouquets to be 
 seen placed before the shrines of Italian 
 churches. Florence thanked him with her 
 accustomed sweet graciousness, and placed it 
 beside her on the table, where it remained 
 during the meal; and she shunned to meet 
 Ellerslie' s smile, as . with eyes full of con- 
 temptuous amusement, he scanned the enor- 
 mous offering. 
 
 I have noticed that for the last two or three 
 days she has remained longer with us at 
 table than at first, reluctant, as it seemed, to 
 leave Godfrey to the temptation of the wine, 
 for a look or whispered word from her will at 
 times induce him to be more moderate in the in- 
 dulgence. But last night her father appeared 
 disposed for a longer carouse than usual, and 
 dismissed her, saying.
 
 102 * THE iM ASTER OF WI>GBGURNE. 
 
 " Have the candles placed in the bijliard- 
 room, Flo', and be there ready for us. We 
 will see if our hands are steady enough for a 
 match." 
 
 She went reluctantly. As I opened the 
 door for her, her cousin called out, 
 
 " Flo', you have left my roses. Don't you 
 care for them ?" 
 
 ''Care? yes, certainly I do," she said, and 
 came back and took the bunch. Then lean- 
 ing over his chair, she said one or two words 
 in a whisper ; I think they were, '' Be pru- 
 dent; don't take too much, for my sake." 
 
 An hour passed by, and Godfrey so far 
 forgot her injunctions as to be rather less 
 piudent than usual. The glasses were 
 drained with a rapidity even unusual for 
 Wingbourne ; and when Mr. Carslope rang 
 the bell for some other bottles of wine, his 
 already half-intoxicated nephew called for 
 the spirit stand. Ellerslie, whose habits are 
 habitually moderate, and myself had long been 
 talking apart, when Mr. Carslope at last gave
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 103 
 
 the signal to leave the table ; and we ad- 
 journed to the billiard-room, his nepliew 
 following us with flushed face and unsteady 
 step. 
 
 Florence was there ; and the moment his 
 eye encountered her, he saw she still wore in 
 her dress the flower Ellerslie had given her, 
 and that his own ponderous bunch, duly 
 placed in water, stood on a side table, 
 
 '' How is this ?" he exclaimed, in angry, 
 excited tones. " Flo' cares for other flowers 
 better than she does for mine !" 
 
 Florence looked at him with surprise. I 
 am sure she had till that moment quite for- 
 gotten the slight decoration. On seeing it, 
 she hastened to interpose, with a ready play- 
 fulness that, had he been in his sober senses, 
 could not have failed to win him — 
 
 " You shall give me another, to-morrow, 
 Godfrey. It would be a pity that your fine 
 bouquet should be withered in my service.*' 
 
 Here all might have ended, had not Eller- 
 slie been as desirous to provoke a quarrel as
 
 104 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 she was to prevent it. " It is a pity that 
 any less graceful ornament than this should 
 be "worn/' he whispered, in a gay tone of 
 gallantry, which always irritates me. I had, 
 of course, no right to interfere, although the 
 restriction Mr. Carslope had laid on me not 
 to make myself agreeable to his daughter, 
 must apply with equal force to Ellerslie. 
 But Godfrey had the privilege to be jealous, 
 and was not slow to use it. He thundered out, 
 
 " Speak up ! Say what you have to say 
 aloud, and be d . We'll have no whis- 
 pering here! Why did you ask Flo' to 
 wear your rose instead of mine ?'' 
 
 "He did not," said Florence, hurriedly. 
 " See here, Godfrey, I have taken it out at 
 once. Choose any one you like for me, and 
 I shall like it much better." 
 
 Her face was very pale, for she saw the 
 state of excitement he was in, and feared the 
 consequences it might lead to. She laid her 
 hand on his arm coaxingly, while Ellerslie 
 observed, with a sarcastic smile on his lips,
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 105 
 
 '' Of course, if you menace her, she must 
 wear your graceful offering. Whatever her 
 real wishes may be, she must hide them to 
 humour a drunkard !'^ 
 
 A volley of oaths was his reward lor this 
 taunting speech, and Godfrey flew back into 
 the hall, intent, as it seemed, on the search 
 for some more effective weapon than words. 
 Ellerslie made a step towards following 
 him. 
 
 " Stop ! oh stop !" cried Florence, spring- 
 ing after him. " Oh, Mr. Wyvil !" and she 
 turned an imploring glance to me. " GrO 
 after Godfrey. Keep him back, for Heaven's 
 sake." 
 
 I did not need to be told twice, but dar- 
 ted into the hall, where I found Godfrey in 
 possession of a heavy riding whip, and 
 already returning. I caught his arm and 
 bade him give me the whip ; but received it 
 across my face, accompanied with abuse I 
 need not repeat, for delaying him. Then, 
 furious at the sight of Ellerslie, who, con- 
 
 F 5
 
 106 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 temptuous of his anger, or desirous to pro- 
 voke it further, appeared at the doorway, he 
 darted towards him, whip in hand. Ellerslie 
 stood on his guard. He pushed back 
 Florence, who would have sprung between 
 them, and as Godfrey rushed at him with up- 
 lifted arm, he delivered a well-planted blow 
 on his chest, which laid the unhappy youth 
 prostrate on the floor, from whence, momen- 
 tarily stunned by the fall, he did not attempt 
 to rise. 
 
 " Ellerslie, how can you !" exclaimed 
 Florence, indignantly. '' You have provoked 
 him to this. Is this the way to treat my 
 father's nephew, in this house ?" 
 
 " The only way when he is drunk/' said 
 Ellerslie, carelessly. " I am grieved to hurt 
 your feelings ; but I trust he will have the 
 sense not to try to horsewhip me in future, 
 and you may be spared such scenes. And 
 now the best kindness I can do him will 
 be to leave him to himself." He took out 
 his cigar-case, struck a match, and lit his
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 107 
 
 cigar, with as much deliberate unconcern as 
 though he had no other object in life than to 
 do it systematically, opened the hall-door, 
 and was gone. 
 
 Mr. Carslope now came out of the billiard 
 room to condole with his discomfited and 
 somewhat sobered nephew; nor did he, to 
 my astonishment, volunteer a single word of 
 reproof to him for his insulting conduct 
 towards Ellerslie, their mutual guest ; though, 
 when he saw the purple marks which the 
 riding whip had left across my face, he 
 hastened to assure me of his exceeding re- 
 gret that it should have happened, and a 
 hope that I would not bear malice. Then, 
 bent on soothing the ruffled feelings of his 
 nephew, he proposed that they should have 
 a glass together. 
 
 Florence, who since Ellerslie had quitted 
 the field had not said a word, but hidden 
 her face in her hands, now looked up. Her 
 face was crimson with shame for the conduct 
 of her father and lover, as she caught my eye.
 
 108 THE MASTEK OF WINGBOUliNE. 
 
 "Mr Wyvil, what must you think of us?" 
 she murmured. " Believe me, this is un- 
 usual. You saw how EUerslie provoked 
 him. I dare not hope you will stay with us 
 after such an insult.'^ 
 
 '' I do pity you, sincerely, Miss Carslope," 
 I answered. I could not extenuate or dis- 
 guise my disgust at the conduct of her re- 
 lations ; and she would have thought me in- 
 sincere if I had tried to do so. 
 
 She said no more, but hurried from the hall 
 to come back no more that evening, and I soon 
 followed her example, for I was indisposed to 
 take part in the orgie of drinking that was 
 likely to ensue. 1 heard the sounds of hilarity 
 carried on far beyond midnight, but no more 
 quarrelling, by which I inferred that EUerslie 
 had not rejoined them. The gentlemen were 
 at length helped to their rooms, and the revel 
 closed. 
 
 And now the question arises — what ought I 
 to do? Ought I to stay at Wingbourne — a 
 place so very different to what must have
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 109 
 
 been 1113? father's anticipations ? I feel strong 
 contempt for M^. Carslope, aversion to his 
 nephew, and dislike towards Ellerslie, and 
 yet I could not leave this house without a re- 
 gret that will follow me wherever I go. This 
 beautiful, unfortunate girl, whose fate is 
 linked with these wretched beings, exercises 
 a spell over me which I cannot resist. I 
 cannot endure the idea of leaving her, so 
 superior in intelligence and refinement to 
 those around her, so completely in their 
 power, so isolated from any friend who can 
 love her with the affection she merits. I 
 have thought once or twice that she was 
 beginning to feel confidence in me ; she has 
 now and then appealed to me for support, or 
 come to me for assistance in any pursuit 
 which Godfrey is incapable of appreciating ; 
 and I have struggled to maintain an easy in- 
 difference in my looks, and to speak to her 
 only with the civil coolness of a friend. I 
 am sure she cannot know the extent of what
 
 110 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 I feel for her, but yet I think she would miss 
 me if I were to go. 
 
 You will say, Alice, that all this points out 
 emphatically that my duty is to leave Wing- 
 bourne. Since (to the best of my belief) 
 her fate is settled for her, and she will, be- 
 fore many months, be Godfrey Thurston's 
 wife, it is foolish in me to risk my own 
 happiness by remaining longer near her; but 
 I repeat, my happiness is already staked, and 
 I shall only drag a lengthening chain behind 
 me on leaving Wingbourne. It is for her 
 sake, and hers alone, that I still doubt whether 
 it is not my duty to go. Shall I, by staying, 
 endanger her peace of mind ? 
 
 You have often told me, Alice, that in your 
 opinion all men are coxcombs, and think 
 every woman's heart may be won — that they 
 have only to throw the handkerchief, and she 
 will willingly stoop for it. But without 
 agreeing to this slander, I still think that I 
 might, if I were not in honour forbidden to
 
 THE MASTER OP WIXGBOURNE. Ill 
 
 try for it, win Florence Carslope's heart. Her 
 destined bridegroom is so inferior, not only to 
 the men she might see, but even to those she 
 has met, that she cannot feel the esteem for 
 him on which, alone, affection can safely 
 rest. I am persuaded that her affection for 
 him is not the love of which her heart is ca- 
 pable ; it is the effect of habit, cousinly kind- 
 ness, a sense of protection with which she re- 
 gards him, but he can inspire nothing deeper. 
 And I do think I might win her if I had the 
 fair chance to try. If her present choice is 
 not unalterable, and EUerslie seems to think 
 it is not, I have as good a right as he to essay 
 my fortune. 
 
 I have sometimes fancied that Mr, Carslope 
 may have laid his commands on me with the 
 same purpose as the Genie in the Arabian 
 tale, who forbids the prince to think of the 
 lady he has ordered him to bring him, solely to 
 try his honourable mettle, and recompenses 
 him with her hand when he is satisfied. It 
 is not likely that a father should wish to
 
 112 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE, 
 
 control his daughter's inclinations ; he must 
 desire to secure for her the worthiest husband 
 in his power, and even if his own wishes 
 decidedly point to Godfrey Thurston, he will 
 be ready to forego them for her advantage. 
 Why, therefore, should I go away ? If, in- 
 deed, she must be Thurston's wife, my most 
 prudent and honourable course would be to 
 leave her ; but an engagement is not indis- 
 soluble like a maniage, and if I have a chance 
 of success, it would be folly in me to abandon 
 it without a struggle. 
 
 Had I you, dearest sister, with me, or 
 within reacli ol the daily post, I should profit 
 by your counsel. I know you would discover 
 the honourable course, and I feel I could 
 better follow it, pointed out by your hand, 
 than debating on it by myself. But before 
 these lines meet your eye (if indeed they ever 
 should) I shall either be Florence's accepted 
 lover, or have settled down into the dreary, 
 solitary, and hard-working law-student. 
 
 I must just add that Ellerslie left the
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 113 
 
 house, and returned to his own farm, yclept 
 Llanfydd, this morning, before Godfrey had 
 risen, so we are likely to have some short 
 respite from their quarrels.
 
 114 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 WINGBOURNE POLITICS. 
 
 We shall still avail ourselves of Mr. Antony 
 Wy viFs journal, which he continued for some 
 time to keep, but shall take the liberty of 
 abandoning his precise words as unsuited to 
 our purpose. He bad accurately described 
 the inmates of Wingbourne, but as a stranger, 
 it was impossible for him to make due allow- 
 ances for the circumstances which had largely 
 contributed to mould the Carslope family to 
 its present condition.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 115 
 
 Mr. Carslope liad been in his youth a some- 
 what dissipated and high-spirited young man, 
 liked very generally by his friends, but not 
 possessed of any sound moral principle to guide 
 him through life. He had been more fortu- 
 nate than he deserved, in the wife which fate 
 had given him. Mrs. Carslope was a woman 
 of a warm heart and sweet temper, gifted 
 also with considerable talent and energy; she 
 sincerely loved her husband, and was blind 
 to his faults, and during her lifetime her 
 capable hand guided the reins of the house- 
 hold and estate so well, that his indolence 
 and incapacity for business were not visible 
 to others. But when she died, the blank she 
 left in her family and household was one 
 which he was incapable of supplying, and the 
 only mark of judgment he showed in the 
 management of his affairs was to leave mat- 
 ters as far as possible in the hands to which 
 she had confided them. Thus the estate was 
 intrusted to the care of the bailiff whom she 
 had appointed, and who, being an honest
 
 116 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 man, did his duty by the property, and kept 
 it, in some degree, from the ruin to which 
 the indolence of its master would have con- 
 signed it; and the house affairs were kept in 
 organisation by the old butler Mchols, and 
 his coadjutor the housekeeper, a practical 
 woman, who had been trained under Mrs. 
 Carslope's own eye, and had imbibed her 
 talent in ruling the household. These two 
 functionaries exercised a mild despotism over 
 Mr. Carslope and his daughter, which, as it 
 was exerted for their benefit, neither thought 
 of disputing, particularly as they knew that 
 if either of the reigning authorities were de- 
 posed, a burden of responsibility, which Flo- 
 rence's ignorance, and her father's indolence, 
 rendered them imable to cope with, would 
 devolve on their unwilling shoulders. 
 
 Mr. Carslope had no more done his duty by 
 his daughter than he had by the property. 
 His wife had been a tender and judicious 
 mother, not only to her little girl, but to her 
 dead sister's child, who had been left to her
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 117 
 
 care ; but at her death Mr. Carslope had al- 
 lowed the children to grow up as they best 
 could. He lavished a great amount of fond- 
 ness upon Florence, but no systematic atten- 
 tion. If she was troublesome, she was occa- 
 sionally indulged, but more often sent away, 
 and sometimes days would pass without his 
 seeing her. Education she had none, nor did 
 her father seem to think it necessary. The 
 old majordomo had taught her readin g and 
 writing, declaring that it was a shame that 
 her father allowed her to grow up more like 
 a little savage than one of the ladies of the 
 land, and he had once or twice so far over- 
 come his deference for his master as to urge 
 him to send her for a few years to school. 
 Mr. Carslope admitted the soundness of the 
 advice, but he foresaw that his home would 
 be silent and solitary without the little feet 
 pattering in and out, or the little brown head 
 and dancing eyes beside him at dinner, and 
 he put off from year ^o year the sending her 
 away. Of sacrifice for hers or any one^s
 
 118 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 sake, Mr. Carslope had not an idea ; the idle, 
 illiterate life he was leading suited him well 
 enough, and therefore, he thought, would 
 satisfy his daughter ; so he limited his teach- 
 ing to various games with which she might 
 amuse him in the long winter evenings, and 
 when he found her crouched down on the hearth 
 rug, poring over some book by the quivering 
 firelight, or perched aside of her attic win- 
 dow, essaying to write, he had stroked her 
 head fondly, praised her industry, and then 
 effectually put a stop to it by calling her to 
 ride or walk with him, or join him in some 
 occupation which had his own pleasure rather 
 than her improvement in view. 
 
 With no other home society than his little 
 daughter's, and too indolent to seek fresh ac- 
 quaintance, or keep up the county visiting, 
 which Mrs. Carslope had considered a family 
 duty to maintain, it was not to be wondered 
 at that he fell into habits of sensual self-indul- 
 gence. His only habitual guest who might 
 have had a civilising influence on him, was
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 119 
 
 the doctor of whom Florence had once spoken 
 to Wyyil. Mr. Joy had been a man of edu- 
 cation, and in his youth had studied medicine, 
 but having the misfortune to inherit a house 
 and a few acres near Wingbourne, he aban- 
 doned his profession, and came to settle 
 there, giving up all practice, except a little 
 gratis among the poor ; but as he turned his 
 attention towards doctoring his neighbour's 
 cattle, he was generally considered by them 
 more in the light of the veterinary surgeon 
 than any other sort of doctor. He was a 
 well-meaning, kind-hearted man, but being- 
 much poorer than Mr. Carslope, was too 
 grateful for his repeated invitations to Wing- 
 bourne to risk his cordial reception there by 
 any over display of refinement. 
 
 Mr. Carslope's other friends and boon com- 
 panions were selected from the class of small 
 farmers living near, amongst whom he was 
 looked upon as a sort of magnate, and to 
 whose level of decorum he always descended 
 when practising the duties of hospitality. In
 
 120 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 addition to these was liis lawyer, an attorney 
 who acted as agent for several other pro- 
 prietors, a keen-sighted man, and a good 
 judge, both of a glass of wine and of his 
 own interests, on which account he never lost 
 an opportunity of ingratiating himself by 
 flattery with Mr. Carslope, and securing a 
 frequent invitation to the Wingbourne table. 
 These had formed Mr. Carslope's society for 
 so long that he would have felt ill at ease 
 with other guests. 
 
 There had been yet another break occa- 
 sionally in the monotony of the life at Wing- 
 bourne, and it was when his jovial brother- 
 in-law, Mr. Thurston, and a party of his 
 equally jovial friends, had made Wingbourne 
 their head quarters for a few days during the 
 shooting season, —had drunk up the best wine 
 and brandy stored in the cellars, lamed a 
 horse now and then in riding steeple-chases, 
 got up cock fights, and turned the house for 
 the time being into a fair, where gamblers 
 and sharpers of all kinds came and went
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUENE. 12 i 
 
 without challenge. Mr. Carslope disliked 
 these days of roaring revelry, but he had not 
 the energy to turn his unwelcome visitors 
 out of the house, or even keep them in order ; 
 and the only mark of good sense he showed, 
 \^as in commanding his daughter to keep out 
 of hearing during the revels, an order she 
 gladly obeyed, retreating to the unused and 
 old wing of the house, and listening to the 
 far-off sound of the orgies with trembling and 
 disgust. Mr. Thurston's death had relieved 
 the master of Wingbourne from this worst sort 
 of companionship, but he still continued to 
 assemble his more soberly, convivial circle, 
 who, if they could not refine, could not do 
 much to degrade him, and when they were 
 not forthcoming, sipped and smoked by him- 
 self, or in company with his nephew, Godfrey 
 Thurston. 
 
 This young man was not so bad as his 
 father's associates were ready to make 
 him. Though long accustomed unhappily to 
 deep drinking, his nature was neither coarse 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 nor his instincts very degraded. He drank 
 because it was his habit to do so — because he 
 had never met on familiar terms anyone who 
 was not nearly as great a toper as himself, 
 and he saw no harm in it, though it is doubt- 
 ful that if he had recognised the evil of the 
 practice, he had sufficient self-command to 
 resist the temptation. But this besetting sin 
 and, when intoxicated, fits of fierce anger, were 
 his only active vices. His temper was natu- 
 rally kindly and affectionate, and he loved his 
 pretty cousin Florence with a devoted and 
 unswerving affection, which had done more to 
 reconcile her to her future lot than all her 
 father's arguments. His love had no reser- 
 vation in it ; he would have risked his life to 
 please her, or (nearly as hard) endeavoured to 
 acquire the deportment of a gentleman, if she 
 had asked him ; and, except in his rare hur- 
 ricanes of passion, she had power to do with 
 him as she pleased. Neither was he exact- 
 ing in return ; he came to her side sometimes 
 to ask her with a look of dull, confiding wist-
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 123 
 
 fulness, whether she cared much about him, 
 and when she laughed and answered in the 
 affirmative, he went away fully as satisfied as 
 her dog Syphax at receiving a caress. Flo- 
 rence was his earthly divinity, and as her re- 
 finement was the highest that he knew, he 
 appreciated her accordingly. 
 
 To a certain degree Florence reciprocated 
 his affbction. He was never rough, and sel- 
 dom ill-mannered towards her, and she felt 
 for him a warm, unvarying kindness, mingled 
 with a sense of superiority, which, as he 
 always acknowledged it, rather knit them to- 
 gether than estranged them. She identified 
 herself with his interests, resented his inju- 
 ries, and would have waged battle on his 
 behalf with any one who presumed to pass 
 censure on his shortcomings ; and yet she felt 
 painfully conscious that there was something 
 wanting in him. She compared him with the 
 only other man who claimed kindred with 
 her, Ellerslie, and in every point Godfrey 
 was markedly inferior. Ellerslie, with his easy 
 
 G 2
 
 124 THE MASTEK OF VVINGBOURNE. 
 
 manners and absence of self-consciousness, 
 approached nearer than any one else she had 
 seen lo her idea of a gentleman, to the type 
 which she had met in her books ; when he 
 talked he interested and amused her, whereas 
 Godfrey's presence was often wearisome, so 
 that she felt occasionally dull or out of 
 ^spirits, she avoided his society, knowing that 
 he could do nothing to enliven her. 
 
 Still, though sensible of his faults, her pros- 
 pect in marriage had never cost her much 
 painful anticipation. Though not altogether 
 content, she had never looked forward to any 
 brighter future ; she liked her cousin too 
 well to wish to pain him, and could she have 
 stipulated to remain all her life as they now 
 were, and postponed the marriage indefinitely, 
 she would never have asked for any more ex- 
 citing lot. She had asked for such a post- 
 ponement the year before, which Godfrey had 
 unhesitatingly accorded, and Mr. Carslope 
 also, after somewhat anxiously hoping that 
 she did not wish to break it off altogether.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 125 
 
 " Oh, no/' said Florence ; '' only I want 
 things to remain as they are for another year;'' 
 and she had her wish. 
 
 But after Antony Wyvil had become an in- 
 mate of Wingbourne, poor Florence's heart 
 no longer beat so placidly. Here at last was 
 some one besides Ellerslie who was Godfrey's 
 superior ; who, though little more than young 
 Thurston's contemporary in age, possessed all 
 the advantages of education, intellect, and 
 manner which he so glaringly lacked. She 
 had never felt so dissatisfied with her destiny 
 as now, and Godfrey had never been so weari- 
 some to her. She acknowledged this dissatis- 
 faction in secret to herself, though for that 
 very reason she would have been more prompt 
 than ever to stand on the defensive had any- 
 one spoken slightingly of him. But after 
 Ellerslie's departure there was no one to 
 quarrel with Godfrey or cast sneers at his 
 dullness and incapacity ; Wyvil would have 
 considered it dishonourable to do so, and 
 Florence's partisanship not being awakened,
 
 126 THE MASTEE OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 she was at leisure to make her reflections to 
 herself all the keener. The contemplation of 
 her future life presented an image of privation 
 and weariness to her, and she tried hard to 
 banish it from her mind, and to enjoy to its 
 utmost the present pleasure of having a friend 
 who neither smoked nor drank, who would talk 
 to her of what the world outside their quiet 
 valley was doing and thinking and writing, 
 and yet who did not, like Ellerslie, quarrel 
 with Godfrey on every occasion. She basked 
 in the present sunny hours, her mind invigo- 
 rated and soothed by this new intercourse, as 
 a person's lungs, long choked and oppressed 
 in a dense fog, expand under a warm south 
 wind. She tried to forget that this pleasant 
 visitor must ever leave them, and succeeded 
 so well, that the fortnight succeeding Ellers- 
 lie's departure was one of almost unalloyed 
 happiness. 
 
 For Wyvil, although he had long since 
 come to the melancholy conviction that Mr. 
 Carslope was quite sincere in wishing his
 
 IHE MASTEK OF WINGBOUKNE. 127 
 
 daughter to marry Godfrey, still lingered on 
 at Wing bourne. The old gentleman, as if to 
 convince him further of the hopelessness of 
 his attachment, lost few opportunities of 
 alluding to the coming match, and pluming 
 himself upon the admirable arrangement by 
 which both the grandchildren of the old Mr. 
 Ellerslie would equally enjoy the estate. He 
 talked of the wedding as settled to take place 
 at the end of the harvest, and yet Antony was 
 still unable to fix the day for his departure. 
 With all our belief that man is an independent 
 moral agent there are times in life, and they 
 occur frequently from twenty to twenty -five, 
 when we acknowledge that destiny is very 
 strong upon us, and that the free will we 
 boast of and cling to has resolved itself into 
 very narrow limits. To go or to stay — to put 
 temptation out of our way or to yield to it, is 
 in such cases all the choice we have left ; — a 
 middle course is beyond our power. 
 
 Every evening, when he felt that the last 
 day had opened some fresh source of sympathy
 
 128 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 between himself and Florence, when he had felt 
 the spell stronger upon him, had wished more 
 impatiently for Godfrey's absence, and thought 
 the most despairingly about the coming sacri- 
 fice, he resolved that he must go, before more 
 irreparable mischief was done ; and yet every 
 morning found him animated with fresh cour- 
 age, determined to act only as the sedate and 
 prudent friend, to avoid all attempt to win 
 her affections, but to spend at least one day 
 longer in her company. And at such times 
 he questioned strongly whether Mr. Carslope 
 had so great a claim on his deference that he 
 was bound to respect his wishes, and accept 
 the fiat that Florence's destiny was fixed be- 
 yond recall. Would it be so impossible or so 
 dishonourable to teach a girl, if she once be- 
 gan to love him, that her will might be inde- 
 pendent of her father's ? 
 
 He spoke to her one day of his proximate 
 departure without assigning the real reason 
 for it, and she answered in a disappointed 
 tone,
 
 TRE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 129 
 
 " My father thought you would stay here 
 with us all the summer. Are you obliged to 
 begin your studies so soon ?" 
 
 " Not exactly my studies ; but 1 wanted to 
 travel— to see more of my native country. In 
 short, I am a stranger liere." 
 
 '' Father would be very sorry that you 
 should feel yourself one," said Tlorence, 
 eagerly. " Your companionship gives him 
 more pleasure than that of anyone else who 
 comes near the house. I hope you will not 
 leave us on that account. He considers you 
 quite an old friend. I think if you were to 
 stay he would begin to care again for all his 
 old pursuits." 
 
 " Hardly, unless his present state of health 
 should mend," said Antony, flattered, in spite 
 of all his wise resolves, by the tone of mani- 
 fest interest in which she spoke ; but his plea- 
 sure received a cruel shock when she con- 
 tinued, rather timidly, 
 
 " I think your society is so useful to God- 
 frey, also. My father has always said it would 
 
 G 5
 
 180 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 be SO good for him to have some friends 
 among his equals." 
 
 " I don't think Mr. Thurston would be 
 likely to pay much attention to the advice of 
 one so little his elder/' replied Wyvil, much 
 mortified, but very anxious that she should 
 not see he was. 
 
 '' Ah, he would pay attention to you. Tf 
 Ellerslie had chosen to be more friendly with 
 us, he could have been of such use to Godfrey; 
 for you must have seen," she added, hesitat- 
 ing, and blushing rather painfully, " that in 
 some things he is not quite the same as other 
 gentlemen. If he had been to college, it 
 would have been so different.'' 
 
 Antony made no reply. In his own heart 
 he thought of the proverb about a silk purse, 
 and doubted whether Mr. Godfrey Thurston 
 had ever had the materials of a gentleman in 
 him. Florence waited for him to speak, but 
 as he did not, she continued with some embar- 
 rassment, 
 
 " If we must lose you, and you are going.
 
 THE MASTEK OF WINGBOUENE. 131 
 
 would it be very irksome to you to let God- 
 frey travel with you ? My father has often 
 said it would be so useful to him to see the 
 world a little, but none of our friends are the 
 sort he ought to go with. Father has long 
 intended to speak to you of the plan, but I 
 thought you might more willingly agree to it 
 as a favour to me.'* 
 
 " I would do more than that with such a 
 motive," said Wyvil, eagerly, but finding he 
 was getting on dangerous ground, he checked 
 himself. 
 
 " I am afraid he will be at first rather in 
 your way,'* pursued Florence; "but as you 
 know hini more, you will like him. He has 
 such a kind heart, and that is the most neces- 
 sary part of all in the making of a gentleman, 
 is it not?'' 
 
 " It is an essential part, certainly," said 
 Wyvil, hesitatingly, '' but there is a great deal 
 more. You will not mind my telling you, 
 Miss Carslope, that your cousin has much, 
 ver} much to learn, before he could mingle
 
 132 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 witli educated men of his own rank on terms 
 of eqiiality." 
 
 '' I know it," said Florence, sorrowfully, '' I 
 have often felt it, and EUerslie frequently 
 says so ; but I do not mind your telling me. 
 You do not seem to despise him for it as 
 EUerslie does. I know he is different to other 
 gentlemen, who can live in London, and travel, 
 and read, but he will have a large estate to 
 keep him occupied and happy, and I am sure 
 he will make his tenants happy. Father has 
 often said that Wingbourne could not be in 
 better hands than Godfrey's.'^ 
 
 There was a pause, and they walked on in 
 silence. Florence seemed dejected, and 
 Antony's next speech stuck in his throat, and 
 it was with some difficulty that he stammered 
 forth at last, 
 
 '' Have I not understood that your marriage 
 was to be in September ?" 
 
 Florence's face fell. 
 
 " So we think," she answered, and taking- 
 advantage of a plot of carnations which were
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 133 
 
 straggling confusedly across the gravel walk, 
 she knelt down to tie them up, turning, as she 
 did so, her face quite away from Wyvil. 
 " My father thought September was the best 
 time," she continued, in a constrained tone ; 
 '' but it is not settled. Anything may put it 
 off a little later/' 
 
 " You are aware," said Antony, hastily, 
 '' that there is no law which gives a father the 
 power to marry his daughter to whom she 
 does not like. You know, of course, you are 
 quite free to consult your own inclinations. 
 Your fate is in your own hands. You are 
 quite free to refuse. Your father cannot 
 force — " 
 
 Florence dropped her carnations, and rising, 
 looked at him with a flushed, eager face. 
 
 '' What do you mean, Mr. Wyvil ? I know 
 I'm free. My father would not forma wish 
 that was against mine, but my choice is the 
 same as his, and never can be altered." 
 
 " Never, Florence? are you certain of that?" 
 exclaimed Wyvil, and abandoning all his pru-
 
 134 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 dence and all his resolves, and (at another 
 time he would have said) all his honourable 
 scruples, he took her hand and was about to 
 pour forth all the passion he could no longer 
 master. But his opportunity was gone. 
 Florence heard her name called loudly from 
 the house, and glad of an excuse to escape 
 from a scene which, though she did not know 
 what he was about to say, was beginning 
 strongly to embarrass her, she snatched away 
 her hand, and fled swiftly up the trellised alley 
 towards the house. 
 
 WyviFs first impulse was to pursue her and 
 implore her to listen to him, but cooler re- 
 flection told him that it was a fortunate thing 
 they had been interrupted, before he had 
 further played the fool. She had already 
 given him to understand that she fully ac- 
 quiesced in her father^s choice, and was not 
 inclined to alter, and if he were still to re- 
 main in the house, it was better for both that 
 he should not abandon the character of the 
 cool-headed friend he had hitherto played.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 135 
 
 But he was not sure that he would remain. 
 What motive had he to stay when she had 
 given him so distinctly to understand she 
 liked Godfrey for his own sake? It would be 
 better in many respects that he left Wing- 
 bourne ; not burdened with the society of the 
 irredeemable Godfrey, whose companionship 
 would be almost enough to forfeit for himself 
 too the caste of a gentleman. It was no con- 
 cern of his if the future owner of Wingbourne 
 were a boor instead of a man of refinement ; 
 and thinking thus, Wyvil came to the conclu- 
 sion it would be better for him to leave the 
 house the next day. 
 
 He proceeded slowly and thoughtfully to 
 the house, intending to seek Mr. Carslope at 
 once, and inform him of the speedy termina- 
 tion to his visit ; but on reaching the stone 
 portico his attention was diverted, for a horse- 
 man had just dismounted there, and he found 
 his hand shaken by Ellerslie.
 
 136 THE Mx\STER OF WTNGBOURNE, 
 
 CHAPTER VJL 
 
 RES ANGUSTA DOMl. 
 
 Ellkrslie had returned to liis lonely farm- 
 house in not the happiest frame of mind 
 imaginable. The small freehold which he 
 called his own, was situated twenty miles 
 from Wingbourne, and was still more isolated 
 from civilization, lying high and cold on 
 a bleak hill-side. The habitation was little 
 larger than a cottage, built of roughly - 
 hewn blocks of stone, a neat, but very bare 
 garden before it, and a few slanting, storm-
 
 TITE MASTER OF WIKGBOURNE. 137 
 
 bent trees behind ; it was destitute of any 
 beauty, unless it might be the poetry of 
 desolation. Iq winter, the heavy snows 
 blocked up the path to the nearest village 
 for days together, quite preventing the 
 passage of even the country letter-carrier, 
 the only one who made it a daily business to 
 climb to that barren spot, and even in sum- 
 mer the wind whistled shrilly round the cor- 
 ners of the house. The flock of sheep that 
 fed on the farm were some of the most active, 
 though not the fattest in the country round, 
 and the same might be said of the cattle. 
 The crops were generally stunted, and often 
 were hardly carried before the autumn snows 
 came on. Farming, which in other situations 
 is a pleasant, though not a profitable occupa- 
 tion, had brought to Ellerslie neither profit 
 nor pleasure; and, weary and disgusted with 
 its daily round of petty disappointments and 
 shortcomings, he often wished he had aban- 
 doned it for the arduous hut more inspiring 
 toil of a profession, ten years ago, when he
 
 138 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 would not have fought the battle of life against 
 younger men at so much disadvantage as 
 now. 
 
 For Ellerslie had never been able to recon- 
 cile himself to the poverty in which the greater 
 part of his life had been passed. The injudici- 
 ous fondness of the formev proprietor of the 
 Wingbourne, or as it was sometimes called 
 the Ellerslie, estate, had aroused expectations 
 in the lad of ten or twelve years old which 
 had been cruelly disappointed by the legacy 
 of only a hundred pounds — expectations 
 which made him look upon the two daugh- 
 ters of his old relation as usurpers of a right 
 which ought to have been his. His pride, 
 and the constant hope that some unforseen 
 chance would still cause Wingbourne to 
 revert to him, had prevented his trying to 
 win his fortune elsewhere, and had kept him, 
 not indeed contented, but enchained to the 
 few barren acres which formed his patri- 
 mony. 
 
 Ellerslie possessed very different tastes to
 
 THE MASTEK OF WINGBOURNE. 139 
 
 tlie present master of Wingbourne. Though 
 like him disinclined to the steady plodding 
 life of the country gentleman and farmer, 
 that disinclination arose not from any want 
 but excess of energy in him. A soldier's life 
 would have suited him ; the *' nightly ambus- 
 cade " and the " daily harass," would have 
 made him as nearly contented as one of his 
 temperament ever could be made. He was 
 ambitious to be known, to be occupied honour- 
 ably and successfully. Friends he had none, 
 and but little society ; the restricted country 
 circles within his reach could not satisfy his 
 need of acquaintance. Nor was he on good 
 terms with many of them. Though he had 
 a cursory acquaintance with most of the 
 wealthy gentry near, who could not forget 
 that the Ellerslies had once been one of their 
 best families, he seldom accepted their hospi- 
 tality, because his limited means could not 
 suffer him to return it ; while on the other 
 hand he never tolerated in his own cottage 
 the set of men who formed Mr. Carslope's
 
 140 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 delight, preferring rather to talk with any 
 one of his day labourers than with the beer 
 drinking, illiterate farmers, most of whom 
 were his equals or superiors in fortune. By 
 them he was called haughty, and disliked as 
 such, and he gave himself no trouble to merit 
 their good opinion. 
 
 But away from his own barren hillside of 
 Llanfydd, Ellerslie had more connection with 
 the outer, and even the London world, than 
 Mr. Carslope had ever cared to possess. 
 In years when the farm affairs had proved 
 favourable, or his economies had reached a 
 sufficient sum, he left Llanfydd for London, 
 Edinburgh, and sometimes the continent, and 
 for a few months did all in his power to for- 
 get there existed such a place as that lonely 
 farmstead. Though his temper was too re- 
 served to make friendships, he had at least in 
 his sojourns in great cities formed a greater 
 variety of acquaintance than his Wingbourne 
 relations had ever imagined to exist. 
 
 But these excursions, though they soothed
 
 THE MASTER OF WI.NGBOURNE. 141 
 
 for the time his restless discontent, only made 
 him more dissatisfied on returning to a home 
 which had never possessed any home charm 
 for him. He tried to fill up the void which 
 his farming concerns could not satisfy, by 
 ordering books and newspapers to the utmost 
 limit of his slender finances ; but these failed 
 to supply the want of human companionship, 
 and ennui sometimes drove him to Wing- 
 bourne, from which he always returned irri- 
 table and envious, and more rebellious than 
 ever against the fate which had given what once 
 had promised fair to be his inheritance, into 
 the hands of those who knew so little how to 
 make a worthy use of it. When he was 
 thought the most self-sufficient by his neigh- 
 bours, he was in reality only the most dis- 
 contented. Restless, dissatisfied with his 
 fortunes because they were so far from 
 brilliant, and with himself because he had 
 made no successful effort to mend them, and 
 loving no one person or thing enough to draw 
 his thoughts from his own life — bitter with
 
 142 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUKNE. 
 
 himself, and sarcastic towards others, Ellers- 
 lie's existence had thus dragged on till his 
 last visit to Wingbourne. 
 
 But that one week had wrought a change. 
 He had found some one to admire ; a treasure 
 that was not and should not be so far beyond 
 his reach as everything else he had cared 
 about, and whose possession would bring 
 with it many of those other advantages he 
 had so long lacked. Six months ago, when 
 he had last seen Florence, he had thought 
 her a pretty, but not otherwise interesting, 
 girl ; he had then just returned from a jour- 
 ney, in which he had been meeting various 
 literary people, and his head was occupied 
 with far other matters than his young cousin. 
 Either his six months' seclusion from any 
 congenial faces had caused him to be less 
 fastidious than was his wont, or the novelty 
 of their meeting in the dusk on the lonely 
 road, and his subsequent guiding her to a 
 place of safety, had caused him to pay her 
 greater attention, or finally the ill-repressed
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 143 
 
 admiration of Antony Wyvil for the young 
 lady of Wingbourne had opened his eyes to 
 the fact that she was beautiful and graceful ; 
 however the spark was first kindled, his 
 admiration of her soon grew into a flame, and 
 a fresh excitement, of which he had heretofore 
 known nothing, was added to his life. He 
 blamed himself for having overlooked her 
 so long. The knowledge of her engagement 
 with Godfrey, an engagement which had 
 existed during half their young lives, and 
 which had proved so strong an obstacle to 
 Antony's attachment, added force to Ellerslie's 
 liking. He had always been far more jealous 
 of Godfrey's claims than of }lr. Carslope's or 
 his daughter's ; always disposed to sneer at 
 his short-comings and to irritate him into 
 expressions of open dislike, and the idea of 
 depriving him of his promised bride, and with 
 her of the estate, was perhaps the motive 
 which turned passing fancy into a fixed 
 intention. At first only : two or three days 
 more spent with Florence had confirmed his
 
 144 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 admiration for her so strongly that jealousy 
 or pique formed but a small part of his 
 motives, and he found himself even becom- 
 ing more indifferent to the fact of her wealth, 
 and thinking less of it and more of her than 
 he could have supposed possible a year ago. 
 Like many men who have put off loving any- 
 thing better than themselves till youth is 
 past, EUerslie, at thirty-five, was far more 
 headstrong in his passion than as a younger 
 man he would have been, and he only quitted 
 her because he foresaw that, after his last 
 quarrel with Godfrey, a short absence was 
 necessary to their further amicable inter- 
 course. 
 
 But the solitude of his lonely farm house 
 proved more then ever oppressive to him — 
 the occupations he found waiting for him on 
 his return more than ever irksome. The 
 country folk had been accustomed to come 
 to him to adjust their slighter differences, 
 and though not possessing the legal power of 
 a magistrate, he had nearly the authority of
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 145 
 
 one. One of these cases was awaiting his 
 arbitration when he returned; but he went 
 through the business impatiently and wearily, 
 glad when he had dismissed the uninterest- 
 ing faces, and was again alone. But solitude 
 brought no distraction to him ; the week's 
 papers were lying ready for him to open 
 them, and a new work he had ordered from 
 London, placed carefully aside of them by 
 his housekeeper, who greatly venerated her 
 master's acquirements ; but as he tore off the 
 covers and cut the leaves, he glanced list- 
 lessly at the matter between them. His 
 thoughts all the while were straying to 
 Wingbourne and to Florence, and to the 
 other individuals there who might influence 
 her fate. Of Wyvil he was not jealous — he 
 had no idea he felt more than a passing 
 admiration for her, and he believed his stay 
 there would be but short ; but of Godfrey and 
 Mr. Carslope he thought much. 
 
 In a few more days a heavy rain set in, 
 VOL. I. u
 
 146 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 rendering his abode at the cottage still less 
 to his taste. Not that the heaviest downfall 
 kept him within doors. He strode about as 
 usual over his barren acres, looking, with a 
 disgust he took no effort to conquer, at the 
 ripening corn lodged and beaten down by the 
 descending showers; but the rain served to 
 make the desolate country still more unlovely 
 to his eyes, and by the time he had been a 
 fortnight at Llanfydd, the impulse to leave 
 it and betake himself again to Wingbourne 
 was too strong to be resisted. He ordered 
 his horse, told the housekeeper he should 
 probably be absent again a week, and while 
 the last showers still drizzled around him, 
 and every tree under which he passed shook 
 down its rain-drops above his head, he rode 
 /slowly down the mountain. 
 
 Not, however, in the straight route for 
 Wingbourne. He turned his bridle towards 
 a valley lying on the other side of his farm, 
 and after he had ridden some ten miles, drew 
 ■up before the door of a cottage, not indeed
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBJURNE. 147 
 
 much smaller or more solitary than his own, 
 but in worse repair, and without those signs of 
 care and neatness which, poor as it was, 
 marked Llanfydd for a gentleman's habita- 
 tion. He did not dismount, but called to one 
 of the shock-headed, rosy children who 
 were playing near the door, and told him to 
 run and call his mother, and when the 
 woman came curtseying to the door of the 
 cottage, he said, 
 
 ''Good-day, Mrs. Evans. How is your 
 lodger to day ? Thank you, I can't come in.'' 
 
 " She's better, sir, rather, thank you," was 
 the answer. '^ It's one of her good days. 
 She's sitting up and teaching my Jenny to 
 sew. Will you not like to see her, sir?" 
 
 '' I have not time to-day. Will you give 
 her this parcel ? It is some finer worsted for 
 her knitting; my housekeeper got it for her." 
 
 H Won't you give it her yourself, sir ? 
 She'll be so much obliged. She says you 
 are always thinking of her. Are you sure 
 you won't come in ?" 
 
 H 2
 
 148 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 " Not to-day/^ said Ellerslie, and he rode 
 away, muttering to himself, 
 
 " They say one good turn deserves another. 
 It may be so, but I'm sure I don't see how 
 picking up that poor creature when she had 
 fallen over the quarry, so many years ago, 
 and paying her lodging here since, is likely 
 to turn to my profit. If it were not for that 
 lad, then indeed — but as it is, I must make a 
 shorter way out of my difficulty." 
 
 When Ellerslie arrived at Wingbourne he 
 was surprised to find Wyvil still an inmate, 
 but as he had not yet learned to fear him as a 
 rival, he greeted him very cordially. Then 
 without entering the house he inquired where 
 Godfrey was, and, on hearing that he had 
 just gone to his hunter's stable to inspect his 
 condition, he followed him there, begging 
 Antony to let Mr. Carslope know he should be 
 with him in a quarter of an hour.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUENE. 149 
 
 CHAPTEE VIIL 
 
 THE ROAD TO RUIN. 
 
 Ellerslie's present object was, if possible, to 
 sow disunion between Florence and her 
 affianced lover. If he could render her less 
 content with Godfrey, and arouse in her a 
 desire to be free from her engagement, he 
 believed that he might easily induce Mr. 
 Carslope to change his puipose and use his 
 influence over his daughter on his (Ellerslie's) 
 behalf; nor did he think it difficult, that en-
 
 150 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 gagement once broken, to win her liking for 
 himself. He had sufficient confidence in his 
 own power to believe that if he really- 
 tried to please — a thing he had never 
 attempted yet at Wingbourne — he could not 
 fail of attaining his object. 
 
 The meeting between Ellerslie and Godfrey 
 was not more defiant than usual. On the 
 contrary, the former threw into his manner a 
 heartiness of cordiality which came very flat- 
 teringly from a man who treated so few as if 
 they were his equals, and which insensibly- 
 modified Godfrey's dislike of him. Godfrey 
 had but a vague idea of the cause of their 
 last quarrel, as everyone at Wingbourne had 
 since carefully avoided alluding to it ; and 
 though he remembered his overthrow and had 
 felt very bitter towards Ellerslie in conse- 
 quence, his anger faded away before Ellerslie's 
 genial friendliness. 
 
 " Why are you not always like what you 
 are now?" he said, after this soothing cordial 
 had been applied for ten minutes. " You can
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 151 
 
 be a good tempered fellow when you choose. 
 Why are not you so always ?" 
 
 " Because I am sometimes out of humour," 
 said Ellerslie, frankly ; " and if you lived in 
 my solitary house at Llanfydd, all alone as I 
 do, you would be out of humour more than 
 occasionally, I can tell you." 
 
 'VBut why do you live alone ?" said God- 
 frey. " I hear on all hands what an unsocial 
 fellow you are. Why don't you have your 
 friends up there now and then, and have a 
 jolly time ? I would, I know, if I was inde- 
 pendent, as you are." 
 
 '' Independent !" said Ellerslie, bitterly. 
 '' You need never know how little such inde- 
 pendence as mine is worth the independence 
 of a Carthusian friar. But talking of un- 
 sociability, Godfrey," he added, more gaily, 
 ^' it is you who eschew your friends, not I. 
 Have you forgotten that to-day and to-morrow 
 are Marchbury fair, and you were to be 
 there?" 
 
 Marchbury was the nearest market town,
 
 152 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 about twelve miles off, and it was a favourite 
 resort of young Thurston on such occasions. 
 He answered slowly, and with a touch of 
 regret that did not escape Ellerslie, 
 
 " I did remember it partly, but I promised 
 Flo' I'd take her to see the Rhysdale woods 
 this afternoon, as the rain was over. I should 
 like to go to Marchbury, but I can't dis- 
 appoint Flo\" 
 
 '' Any day would suit Florence equally, I 
 should imagine," said Ellerslie, " and I know 
 myself that you promised Wheeler to be 
 there/' 
 
 " I don't like Joe Wheeler," said Godfrey, 
 after a few moments of reflection, which his 
 kinsman hoped had been employed in consider- 
 ing how he should put oiBP Florence. 
 
 ^' Neither do I, but that is not the question. 
 I cio not think that Joe Wheeler likes you ; 
 at least, 1 have heard him speak of you as no 
 friend should of another.'* 
 
 '' What have you heard him say of me ?" 
 asked Godfrey, fiercely. " The devil ! Eller-
 
 THE .MASTER OF WINQBOUicNE. 153 
 
 slie, ril not have these hints. You shall tell 
 tell me r 
 
 " I have no objection— Joe Wheeler is no 
 friend of mine. I have heard him sneer and 
 laugh at you, saying that you had not the 
 making of a good companion in you, like 
 your father, and that it was no good for you 
 to try to be gentlemanlike, for that you grew 
 quarrelsom.e if you tried to carry more drink 
 than a child could manage. He says you are 
 afraid to meet him after disgracing yourself 
 as you did at Marchbury last year, and that 
 you owed him money at the cock fight, which 
 he should come upon your uncle to pay if you 
 did not win it back this time." 
 
 Godfrey stamped furiously, as Ellerslie 
 deliberately uttered the latter part of this 
 speech, of most of which Mr. Wheeler had 
 been innocent, and when he finished, Godfrey 
 swore at him for a cold blooded friend who 
 had heard such slanders and not refuted them 
 by knocking Joe Wheeler down. 
 
 ^' I don't quarrel with such as he," said 
 
 H 5
 
 154 THE MASTER OF WTNGROURNF. 
 
 Ellerslie. "But all thino-s considered, T 
 think you had better go to Marchbury, this 
 afternoon, and show him you are not afraid 
 to meet him.'' 
 
 " Who said I was afraid ?" exclaimed 
 Godfrey, thoroughly excited. " I'll go this 
 very minute. I believe you do wish us well, 
 Ellerslie, though you have an odd way of 
 showing it. If I had heard Wheeler say such 
 things of you, I'd have taught him better, I 
 know — we are cousins after all. Come with 
 me to Marchbury. What ! ridden thirty miles 
 already, and tired ? You have not the spirit 
 of a man in you. I'll be off this minute. I'll 
 not take this poor beast with me, though," he 
 added, patting the hunter's neck fondly, " for 
 the roads are broken up between here and 
 Marchbury, and it's sorry stabling they give 
 it at the Red Lion. I'll saddle the black ray- 
 self" 
 
 " And I will make your excuses to your 
 uncle," said Ellerslie. " Is there anything I 
 can get you from the house ?"
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 155 
 
 " My spurs," said Godfrey, who had 
 opened another stable-door, and had already 
 led out the horse he had mentioned, '' and ray 
 purse ; there's the key of the desk in my room," 
 he added, tossing it. 
 
 " All right," said Ellerslie, as he caught 
 the key, and he left the yard by one gate as 
 Florence entered it by another. 
 
 Some suspicion that all was not right must 
 have crossed her mind, for there was an un- 
 easy inflexion in her voice as she called out, 
 
 " Godfrey, where are you ? Are you ready 
 for our ride ?" 
 
 '' I'm not going, Flo'," said the young man, 
 leading forward the black horse, which was now 
 fully accoutred. " It's the day for Marchbury 
 fair, and I'm going there. I ought to have 
 been off two hours ago. You will not mind 
 waiting one day for the ride, Flo' ?" 
 
 "Never mind the ride," said Florence, 
 " but oh ! Godfrey, don't go to Marchbury 
 fair. Remember the last time you were there,
 
 156 THE MASTEK OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 — and you promised me after that, you would 
 never go again." 
 
 ^' And ril keep my word another time, Flo'," 
 said her lover, "but Vm bound to go, to- 
 day." 
 
 Florence laid her hand coaxingly on his 
 arm. '^ You will not, if I ask you to give it 
 up, Godfrey. It is, you know it is, much 
 better to stay away." 
 
 " I don't see that, Flo' darling, and there's 
 a man there, whom I want very much to 
 meet." 
 
 " Well, then, I don't ask you to say it is 
 better to stay, or to stop, because you promised 
 me last year, but do stop because 'I ask just 
 now. Godfrey, you would not make me un- 
 happy, would you ? I shall never be able to 
 thank you enough if you will stay at home to- 
 da}' for my sake." 
 
 Godfrey stood irresolute, but the pleading 
 eloquence of her eyes, and a few more words 
 from her sweet voice, conquered him. He
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUKNE. 157 
 
 loosed his hold of the bridle, threw his arm 
 round her, kissed her, and told her with com- 
 plete sincerity that he never wished to do 
 anything in his life to trouble her. They 
 would go their ride together, he added, and 
 leave Ellerslie and Mr. Wyvil to entertain 
 each other at home. 
 
 It was the first intimation Florence had 
 had that Ellerslie had come, and it did not 
 please her. It added, however, another 
 reason to her wish to secure Godfrey for the 
 two or three hours of her ride. She begged 
 bim to order her horse at once, and hurried 
 off to dress, and in a few minutes Ellerslie, 
 who had timed his absence so as not to meet 
 her, was again in the stable-yard. 
 
 " There is your purse," he said, " and 
 your spurs. You must make haste if you 
 mean to reach Marchbury before the rain 
 comes on." 
 
 " I am not going," said Godfrey, regret- 
 fully. 
 
 Ellerslie smiled. " Not going ? You have
 
 J 68 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 thought better about meeting Wheeler. Well, 
 I can hardly blame you for it.'' 
 
 " Not for that reason," said his victim, 
 resentfully. " Flo' has begged me not go, so 
 I shall stay." 
 
 " Another time Flo' had better mind her 
 own affairs !" said Ellerslie, mimicking his 
 assent, " Seriously, Thurston, I thought you 
 were too sensible to go through life tied to a 
 woman's apron string. If she assumes this 
 power before she is married, I pity you after- 
 wards. How far do you mean to let her have 
 her own way ?" 
 
 " In all she likes,'' answered Godfrey, 
 angrily. " Don't talk to me, Ellerslie, I am 
 sorry enough not to go, but she wished it, and 
 I'll not say no to her." 
 
 *' And she will wish you, I suppose, to for- 
 swear Wheeler and all your father's friends," 
 laughed Ellerslie, mockingly, " and to give 
 up wine altogether. Are you turned tee- 
 totaller yet, Thurston? And she will take 
 you to church regularly on the Sunday to be
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 159 
 
 sermonized. You are a fortunate man, Godfrey 
 Thurston ; I never envied you so much as I 
 do now." Then, changing his tone, he added ; 
 " If you don't wish to be made a fool of all 
 your life, now is the time to assert your own 
 wishes. Florence is a silly girl to ask you to 
 give up going to Marchbury. You will be 
 the only one in the country round who fails." 
 
 " It is quite true," said Godfrey, already 
 yielding, " and I might please Flo* in another 
 way by going and taking care of myself, you 
 know." 
 
 " Of course, there is no virtue in shunning 
 temptation altogether," said his evil genius. 
 " I will explain to Florence why you have 
 changed your mind; I have already told Mr. 
 Car slope you are going. Make haste, it will 
 rain.*' 
 
 " I could not go the ride with Flo' if it did 
 rain, could I ? She will not be disappointed,** 
 said Godfrey, still lingering with one hand on 
 the saddle. EUerslie's patience began to 
 give way, but he curbed his irritation.
 
 160 THE MASTEK OF WINGBOURNK. 
 
 " Certainly not ; she could not expect you 
 to stay. You might have been half way to 
 Marchbury by this time. That's right/' for 
 Godfrey now vaulted into the saddle, '' give 
 my respects to Wheeler and Co., and a fair 
 sport to you all," and then as the young 
 man cantered out of the yard, he muttered : 
 '^ The hardest work I have had yet. Was it 
 worth while to take the trouble to send him 
 there, only for the sake of having till to- 
 morrow evening alone with Florence ? 
 Pshaw ! the lad runs of his own accord to 
 ruin.'' 
 
 He was startled by receiving an imperative 
 tap on his shoulder. It was Florence, who, 
 fully equipped for the ride, was standing aside 
 him. 
 
 '' Where is Godfrey, Cousin Ellerslie ?" 
 she said, angrily. ''Where has he gone? 
 Why have you come here and sent him away, 
 out of my sight and care ?" 
 
 Her eyes were bright with anger, her 
 cheeks flushed, and her slender figure drawn
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBQURNE, IGl 
 
 up to its full height. Ellerslie thought he 
 had never seen her look so beautiful, and it 
 was full a minute before he recollected him- 
 self enough to reply, 
 
 '' He had a pre-engagement at March- 
 bury." 
 
 " At Marchbury ! And you sent him 
 there ! I know you must have done, for he 
 had just promised me he would stay. 
 Ellerslie! Ellerslie! was this fair? Was it 
 manly to send him to meet such associates ? 
 To make him break his word — to lead him to 
 his ruin ? And you so much older, who ought 
 to help me to save him, — when you know 
 what will be the consequences of sending him 
 there !" 
 
 " Godfrey Thurston is his own master, my 
 dear cousin. I am not responsible for his 
 conduct.'^ 
 
 " You would say the same if you gave a 
 child a knife," interrupted Florence, bitterly. 
 " You would see it cut off its hand and say it 
 was no concern of yours. You know that this
 
 162 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 drinking will ruin his health — will kill him 
 sooner or later." 
 
 " Kill him ? You could kill a horse 
 sooner," said Ellerslie. " It is men's brains 
 that kill them, child ; Godfrey will outlive 
 you or me either. But you are unjust to 
 charge me with driving him to his ruin. He 
 inherits all his father's propensities ; they 
 broke bis mother's heart — Godfrey will break 
 yours if you marry bim. You hope to 
 influence and alter him. What does vour 
 influence amount to ? You can't prevent 
 his daily making a brute of himself. He 
 cares for you, I know, but after what fashion? 
 You will find it out when it is too late, for 
 neither T nor you, nor mortal power, can 
 restrain a drunkard when he is once on the 
 downward path." 
 
 Florence, who whilst he spoke had been 
 nervously wringing her hands, and twisting 
 and finally breaking to pieces the riding whip 
 she held, now threw it down, and hid her 
 face, bursting into a passion of tears. Eller-
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 163 
 
 slie felt touched by her grief, and for the mo- 
 ment really sorry. 
 
 " Florence, dear Florence, you are a per- 
 fect child in these matters," he said. "You 
 must have known all this already. Come, God- 
 frey is not worth so many tears. Besides, he 
 will be back to-morrow, and very vexed with 
 himself probably, and you will forgive him 
 then, shall you not ? as you have done 
 already a dozen times. Come in ; it is rain- 
 ing sharply. He may turn back at once, 
 finding the road so bad ; and, at any rate, 
 your father will be wondering where you 
 are." 
 
 Florence followed him to the house un- 
 easily, speculating whether he had been ac- 
 cessory to Godfrey*s change of resolution; 
 she might have done him injustice, and God- 
 frey might all the time have intended to go. 
 But no ; she could not believe that when her 
 cousin had kissed her, promising to stay, he 
 had been guilty of deceit. She had never 
 known him tell a lie ; and yet, the unsteadi-
 
 164 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUKNE. 
 
 ness of purpose which it showed in him, to 
 have been swayed so easily by EUerslie, 
 equally alarmed her. She was very angry 
 still with EUerslie, and hardly spoke to him 
 the whole evening, so that he remained 
 doubtful whether Godfrey's cause or his own 
 had lost the most by his afternoon's strategy. 
 Mr. Carslope had four or five friends, of 
 the class already specified, to dine with him 
 that day. It was Wyvil's first introduction 
 to them ; and he could not help marvelling at 
 the singular discrepancy between the old 
 fashioned but still educated and gentlemanly 
 demeanour of the host, and the coarse, illi- 
 terate, and unkempt appearance of the chief 
 part of the guests. Cleanliness is next to 
 godliness, and Mr. Carslope would have held 
 that dressing for dinner was superior to 
 either ; but his friends were not so scrupulous ; 
 and with the exception of Mr. Joy, the vil- 
 lage doctor, whom xlntony had already seen 
 and rather liked, there was not one of the 
 guests who did not disgrace even the very
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 165 
 
 questionable decorum of the Wingbourne 
 table, from wliicli Florence made her escape,, 
 as soon as Her duties, as mistress of the 
 house, permitted. 
 
 Godfrey's absence was of course remarked ; 
 but excited no surprise, when they heard he 
 had gone to Marchbury, Mr. Carslope ob- 
 serving that they had all been young once, 
 and knew what young people liked. His 
 guests followed his lead, adding, for Florence 
 had by this time left the room, stories of 
 their own youthful frolics, which made Eller- 
 slie lean back in his chair in profound and 
 haughty indifference, and Antony wonder 
 that Mr. Carslope imposed no restraint. The 
 doctor, Mr. Joy, appeared somewhat to sym- 
 pathise with his impatience ; but he was 
 evidently too much in awe of his host to 
 take any active part which might not meet 
 his approbation; and turning to Wyvil, he 
 hegan to talk hard and fast about the shoot- 
 ing to be expected in the course of another 
 month.
 
 166 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 " I am hardly likely to be here," said 
 Wyvil, adding, with an involuntary glance 
 round the circle, " the life here is very dif- 
 ferent to what 1 have been accustomed to 
 lead." 
 
 " You allude to the drinking," said the 
 veterinary surgeon, shaking his head. 
 " I'm afraid it's not wholesome, carried to 
 excess ; but there is Scripture warranty for 
 countenancing the use of the glass, in good 
 season. ' Wine, that maketh glad the heart 
 of man,' you know, and so forth." 
 . "Nevertheless," said Wyvil, " I think, un- 
 less you wish for any more wine, the best 
 thing you can do will be to accompany me 
 to join Miss Carslope. I am going." 
 
 " With pleasure," said Mr. Joy, rising to 
 his feet with alacrity. ^'Ah! ^Ir. Ellerslie 
 has gone already ; I had not noticed that. 
 Let us join Miss Carslope by all means." 
 
 Mr. Carslope exclaimed at them for de- 
 faulters ; but they made good their retreat, and 
 lie turned apologetically to his other guests.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUKNE. 167 
 
 " Antony WyviVs easily beaten, though 
 Joy's head generally stands it better; but 
 what can you expect, when Ellerslie sets them 
 the example of running away ?" 
 
 " It is not Mr. Ellerslie's head that is in 
 fault," said the agent ; " but his pride. I'm 
 astonished to see him here at all. V/hat 
 arts did you use to bring him, may I ask, 
 sir?" 
 
 " I ? none," said the master of Wing- 
 bourne. '' He's welcome when he comes, 
 but I never asked him here. He finds* it dull 
 at Llanfydd, I presume." 
 
 " Mr. Ellerslie is the proudest man in the 
 county, and with the least to back it," said 
 another of the guests ; " though I ought not 
 to say it, he being your cousin, Carslope." 
 
 '' Oh, go on," said Mr. Carslope, laughing, 
 for it never irked him to hear Ellerslie 
 abused, having in his heart but little sympa- 
 thy with him. '' He is no cousin of mine — 
 my wife was an Ellerslie ; but I am none."
 
 168 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 " Then you have no dislike, sir, to hearing 
 what we think of him ?" said the agent. 
 
 ''None in the least — say what you like. 
 All is fair pi ay. Only pride is no fault ; I 
 like pride.'' 
 
 " Pride may be allowable with Wingbourne 
 to back it," said the farmer who had before 
 spoken. " I remember the time when there 
 were seven carriages in the yards here, all of 
 people staying in the house. The Ellerslies 
 were a good family once ; but now what are 
 they?"* 
 
 '' Mr. Ellerslie declined to join the last 
 committee-room dinner," said Mr. Solly, the 
 agent, in a smooth voice. " Marchbury so- 
 ciety is not select enough for him.'' 
 
 " And though you say you like pride. Car- 
 slope, would you like a neighbour of yours to 
 meddle with your workmen, and plume himself 
 upon giving better wages than yourself, as 
 he has done to my knowledge with Ingoldsby, 
 his nearest neighbour at Llanfydd?"
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUKNE. 169 
 
 '' And never to ask a friend to come and 
 chat with him,'' subjoined another. 
 
 '' Or drink with him — which is the worst ?" 
 said Mr. Carslope, gaily. " I give him up — 
 Tm ashamed of him ; but there's time for 
 him to mend. Meanwhile, don't let us imi- 
 tate his bad example. Solly, the bottle 
 stands with you." 
 
 VOL. I,
 
 170 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DECLARATION OF LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 Ellerslie tried hard tlie next day to get a 
 private interview with Mr. Carslope, to sound 
 him about his views for Florence and God- 
 frey; but for a long time without success. 
 In the first place, the master of Wingbourne 
 slept later than usual, after his revels ; and 
 secondly, as it was the last day of Wyvil's 
 visit, and as the latter was anxious, for pru- 
 dence sake, to see as little of Florence alone 
 as possible, his time was passed chiefly in
 
 THE MASTKR OF WINGBOURNE. 171 
 
 his host's society. In the afternoon, how- 
 ever, Ellerslie obtained an opportunity. 
 
 "Where is Florence?" he asked, abruptly, 
 on entering the drawing-room, and discover- 
 ing Mr. Carslope dozing alone in his great 
 arm-chair. It was wheeled up near the win- 
 dow, and the breath of the hot A.ugust day, 
 heavy with the recent rain, and burdened 
 with the scent of the tea roses, that clustered 
 outside the casement, stole through the room. 
 The sleeper lazily opened his eyes as the 
 question was repeated. 
 
 " Gone out, I believe, to see if Godfrey is 
 coming home,'' he said. "Why? do you 
 want her ? 
 
 " I don't want her, I want you," said 
 Ellerslie, seating himself opposite Mr. Car- 
 slope, and fixing his keen dark eyes on him, 
 to watch the effect of his .communication. 
 "Cousin Carslope, you are getting old — ^not 
 old, I know, as years go ; but your health is 
 bad, and you might be called away sud- 
 denly.'' 
 
 T 2
 
 172 THE MASTER OF WlNGBOURNE. 
 
 '' Do you think I'm looking ill?" interrup- 
 ted Mr. Carslope, anxiously. " I have not 
 felt well lately. I have thought of sending 
 over to Marchbury for Dr. Gillman. Do not 
 you think it would be prudent?" 
 
 " Send for whomever you like ; but listen to 
 what I have to say first. Have you ever 
 thought of your daughter in the case of your 
 death, and what protector you could leave 
 her?" 
 
 "Well," said the master of Wingbourne, 
 uneasily, " I have done so, I think, and the 
 fittest there is. Next month, I expect the 
 young people will make up their minds to be 
 married." 
 
 " It was of that I came to speak to you," 
 said Ellerslie. '' Mr. Carslope, Florence will 
 not make up her mind to be married — not, 
 that is to say, that she will not obey you if 
 you insist upon it, but her heart is not in 
 that marriage. You speak of young Thur- 
 ston as being the fittest protector you can 
 find for your daughter. Look at him — what
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 173 
 
 is he? What qualities has he? — through his 
 life long he must leau on some one else. He 
 has no energy — no intellect ; his very associ- 
 ates look down upon him. He will not even 
 be able to manage this estate." 
 
 "There is Wallis to do that," said Mr. 
 Carslope. "I am very well contented with 
 Wallis." 
 
 " Wallis is old, and the best bailiff will get 
 past work some time," rejoined Ellerslie, im- 
 patiently. " Then, with regard to her domes- 
 tic happiness, do you think that Florence, 
 even if she liked him now, will be contented, 
 when every man she sees is superior to her 
 husband. Do you want your daughter to 
 break her heart, or see her exposed to 
 ridicule, on account of the husband you have 
 chosen for her?" 
 
 " You under-rate Godfrey, indeed you do, 
 Ellerslie.'' 
 
 '' I do not," said Ellerslie, emphatically — 
 " I rate him at his true merit. He is a kind- 
 hearted, easy-tempered fool. And now let
 
 174 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 me tell you, Carslope, Florence does not love 
 him, though she has persuaded herself to be- 
 lieve she does, and means to do her duty in 
 obeying you ; but she does not love him ; 
 and if you insist on this marriage, you will 
 sacrifice your daughter more completely than 
 if you took her life.'' 
 
 *'What does all this lead to?" said Mr. 
 Carslope, in a tone of querulous annoyance ; 
 '' if Godfrey is not worthy of her, where am 
 I to find a husband that is ? I know no one 
 who lives near us; I have no friend to con- 
 sult. Last year, when she begged me to put 
 it ofP, and I fancied she had no liking for 
 Godfrey, I wrote to my old friend Eichard 
 Wyvil, the father of this young man — he was 
 then in India, and as people from a distance 
 often judge better than those close by, I 
 asked him if I ought to send Godfrey to 
 college, or buy him a commission in the 
 army, as he was not just the thing, and a 
 girl with Florence's expectations ought to 
 have a gentleman for her husband ; but my
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 175 
 
 letter could only just have reached him when 
 he died. I had a great liking for Wyvil. 
 But now comes the question, Ellerslie, — how 
 am I to make Godfrey more suitable to her?" 
 
 " You cannot ; that is the only answer to 
 your question/' said Ellerslie. " You can 
 neither make him a fit husband for her, nor a 
 fit master for the Ellerslie — for the Wing- 
 bourne estate, I should say,'' he added, 
 hastily correcting himself. " Let us come to 
 the point at once, Carslope; I love your 
 daughter. Give her to me, or rather, give 
 me your parental sanction to win her, and 
 you will consult her true happiness in doing 
 so.'' 
 
 Mr. Carslope very seldom gave himself the 
 trouble of reasoning when there was anyone 
 else to take the burden of thinking for him, 
 but in the present instance Ellerslie had 
 somewhat overshot the mark. 
 
 "'Give her to you, cousin?" he said, while 
 a languid contortion, half sneer, half smile, 
 overspread his features ; " I understand now
 
 176 THE MASTEE OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 your depreciation of the poor lad. No, I'll 
 not do him so much wrong as to take his 
 bride away, and his chance of the estate, too. 
 The Ellerslie estate ! It is that in your esti- 
 mation, cousin, is it? and you think you have 
 the best right to it ?" 
 
 " I have as much right to it as you," broke 
 in Ellerslie, fiercely. " You seem to forget 
 that I was at one time the old man's acknow- 
 ledged heir." 
 
 " But not when he died," said Mr. Carslope ; 
 " it passed, as it ought to pass, to his daughter, 
 my wife, and from her to her child.'' He 
 broke off, suddenly meeting a keen question- 
 ing look on his cousin's part that effectually 
 confused him. " You can't deny,'' he added, 
 "that the grandchildren, Florence and 
 Godfrey, have the most claim on the estate." 
 
 "Before mine?" said Ellerslie. "I assure 
 you I have no intention to dispute it.'' 
 
 Mr. Carslope looked reassured, and in 
 proportion as his spirits rose, his temper 
 waxed hot.
 
 THE MASTER OF WTNGBOURNE. 177 
 
 " And yet you want to deprive Godfrey of 
 the land, poor fellow. You have just dis- 
 covered that Florence is an heiress, and this 
 is the secret of your liking for her." 
 
 " My liking has nothing to do with the 
 estate," answered Ellerslie. " That may go 
 where it will — to Godfrey, or to young Wy vil, 
 were that possible, for his father probably 
 sent him here with the intention of securing 
 it and your daughter, too. I care for Florence, 
 quite independently of her wealth." 
 
 " I'll believe you to be quite as disinter- 
 ested as you would wish to be thought," said 
 Mr. Carslope, with a second languid sneer. 
 " As for young Wyvil, the lad is too honour- 
 able to have thought of her after I warned 
 him she was meant for another — land and 
 herself as well — as indeed you know it is not 
 in my power to separate them if I would. 
 I'll do you all the justice you wish. Cousin 
 Ellerslie, but I say again tliat Florence and 
 her estate are both meant for her mother's 
 nephew, and that had I ten other husbands 
 
 I 5
 
 178 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE, 
 
 offered to choose from, I would not discard 
 Godfrey. I'll not even think of doing him 
 such injustice, and now you have my an- 
 swer/' 
 
 " An answer T shall not accept," said 
 Ellerslie, in a suppressed tone of passion, 
 while his face was pale with rage. 
 
 As he spoke, the door unclosed, and 
 Florence's fair young head was pushed in 
 through the opening. 
 
 " He has not come back, father," she said, 
 without entering. 
 
 " Come in, my child, come in," cried Mr. 
 Carslope. " Tell Ellerslie — it is right you 
 should know what we have been talking about 
 — tell Ellerslie, who has been modestly put- 
 ting in a claim on you himself, that you will 
 marry no one but Godfrey, and that you are 
 putting no force on your inclinations when 
 you agree to do so." 
 
 Florence flushed crimson, and then turned 
 pale. 
 
 " A claim on me ? Ellerslie ?" she said.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE, 179 
 
 " Yes/' pursued her father, " he has been 
 saying I ought to give you to him, and break 
 my faith with Godfrey ; turn him away from 
 this house, which has been his home since he 
 was born. Tell him, my darling, that you 
 do not mean to change, and that you love, 
 and will be faithful to your cousin." 
 
 Here Ellerslie, too angry to restrain himself 
 longer, broke in, 
 
 " You do not love him, Florence! — you lie 
 if you say you do ! You cannot debase your 
 own nature so far. Tell your father that you 
 cannot obey him — that you will not at his 
 command vow to love and honour a man who 
 is nothing but a horse-jockey and a drunkard, 
 and who will die in delirium, as his father did 
 before him." 
 
 He had again gone too far in his headlong- 
 passion. Florence's breath came short and 
 quick, and her cheeks had resumed more than 
 their former brilliancy. 
 
 " If you want my answer," she exclaimed, 
 '' it is that 1 will never retract my word. I
 
 180 THE MASTER OF WTNGBOURNE. 
 
 will never be the means of breaking bis 
 heart, a far more faithful one than you believe. 
 Did you think I was so false as to wish to be 
 free, cousin ? and for your sake !'* 
 
 Ellerslie sprang towards her and snatched 
 both her hands in his own, crushing them to- 
 gether with a force of which in his fury lie 
 was quite unconscious. 
 
 '* You shall not marry him ! — by God, T 
 swear you shall not!'' he cried, bending 
 forward till his face was on a level with her 
 own, and his eyes shot their burning glances 
 right into hers. '' He shall never have you ! 
 He or I will die sooner than he shall possess 
 you !" and releasing her with a sudden ess that 
 made her totter backwards, he darted from the 
 room and out of the house.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE^ 181 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 RESCUE OR NO RESCUE, 
 
 Through tlie gate and up the side of the hill, 
 Ellerslie strode without pausing for a minute, 
 or noticing which way he went in his blind 
 rage and fury, — his blood was on fire at the 
 insult he had received. To be refused, and in 
 such accents of scorn, by both father and 
 daughter, as if his wooing had been an act of 
 the maddest presumption, stung his proud 
 spirit to the quick. Florence, whom, not- 
 withstanding her invariable defence of her
 
 182 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 cousin, he had never believed to care for him, 
 had openly avowed her preference for the 
 lover chosen for her by her father, and plainly 
 intimated that could she in any case have 
 broken her engagement, it would not be for 
 Ellerslie's sake ; and Mr. Carslope, whom 
 Ellerslie had believed to be so much under 
 his influence that he could turn him which 
 way he would, had proved restive, had slighted 
 and scorned his offer, and accused him flatly 
 of the most mercenary views. Against these 
 two his anger raged at first, but it soon flowed 
 into its usual channel, and directed itself with 
 more than its usual fury upon the innocent 
 cause of this contumely — Godfrey, whom he 
 hated with all the intensity of his fierce, 
 selfish nature. 
 
 For some wild moments his uppermost 
 thought was to hurry to Marchbury, seek out 
 Godfrey, insult him, quarrel with him, and 
 provoke a fight which his own superior 
 strength could decide but one way. Had he 
 had a weapon with him Godfrey Thurston
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUENE. 183 
 
 would have had but a short lease of life ; but 
 those days were past when every gentleman 
 went armed, though never in the fiercest days 
 of feud and strife did a spirit breathe revenge 
 more ardently than Ellerslie's now. It 
 rendered him insensible for the time to every 
 consideration of prudence or moderation, and 
 he had already hastened two or three miles 
 on the road in the direction of Marchbury 
 before the madness of what he was about to 
 do forced itself upon his mind, and made him 
 recollect that if he would not be himself a 
 lost man, Godfrey's life was beyond his 
 reach. 
 
 He left the road as these reflections forced 
 themselves upon him, and, leaping over the 
 stone fence which bounded it, found himself 
 upon the bare hill-side. But though he had 
 compelled himself to turn aside from his head- 
 long course, his mind was too convulsed with 
 passion, though aware of its inutility, for him 
 to reason upon what had passed, or that which 
 remained for him to do. Already half
 
 184 THE MASTEK OF WTNGBOURNE, 
 
 ashamed of the violent words his pas&ion had 
 seduced him into, he strove to work it off by 
 extreme physical exertion. He climbed the 
 steepest crags of the hill, scrambling up 
 abrupt places, where the smoother earth had 
 been washed away by the action of the rains, 
 and the rough rock jutted out, and leaping 
 over obstructions, which in a calmer moment 
 he would have carefully avoided ; but now he 
 was only conscious of them enough to impel 
 him to encounter them. He reached the top- 
 most crag at last; and, so thoroughly tired out 
 that he felt calmer already, he threw himself 
 down on the ground, and gloomily watched 
 the sun going down in the sky, still debating 
 between the dictates of his anger and his 
 prudence. 
 
 The latter triumphed, for Godfrey was 
 beyond his power, unless he were so bent on 
 his ruin as to choose his own self destruction 
 rather than forego it. Duels were not fought 
 now-a-days, and, though in Thurston's next 
 drunken fit it would be easy to provoke him
 
 THE MASTER OF WTNGBOURNE. 185 
 
 to "figbt, a blow with his bare band was not 
 dangerous, and the introduction of any other 
 weapon would be sufficient to deprive the 
 catastrophe of all Appearance of accident. 
 He could not injure him in any manner with- 
 out injuring himself more, and though, in the 
 heat of passion he had declared to Florence 
 that life or death lay in the balance, now that 
 his calmer self resumed its sway he felt con- 
 scious that that was but an empty threat. He 
 foresaw that he must endure the insult and 
 put up with the Carslopes' ridicule as an ex- 
 travagant boaster, and a ruffianly fool, — smile 
 and appear on the same amicable terms with 
 them if he meant to return to Wingbourne, 
 supposing indeed that after having parted 
 with them in such a manner, they should 
 permit him to re-enter the house. Would it 
 not be better, he questioned within himself, 
 rather than endure the ignominy of seeming 
 to implore their friendship, to leave them for 
 ever, sell his scanty patrimony, and seek his 
 fortune elsewhere ? He ought to have done it
 
 18i THE MASTEii OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 years ago, but it was not yet too late for a 
 man of energy to fight the uphill battle of 
 life. 
 
 The sun went down amidst clouds of fire, 
 and the twilight began to deepen, before 
 Ellerslie rose and began to descend the 
 mountain, feeling tired in frame and spirit. He 
 took the direction of Wingbourne, not that he 
 meant to encounter again its inmates, but be- 
 cause his horse, without which he could not 
 reach Llanfydd, was stabled there, and he 
 wished to saddle him and ride off unper- 
 ceived. He had come to no decision respect- 
 ing his future conduct; his thirst for revenge 
 was as deep as before, but the violence of 
 his resentment had brought its own exhaus- 
 tion with it, and he could neither think nor 
 plot further. Mechanically now he avoided 
 the hollows and rocks he had before courted, 
 but though walking far more slowly than on 
 setting out, the descent made his progress so 
 much easier that it was not long before he 
 was in sight of the river which crossed the
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 187 
 
 direct road between Wingbourne and the 
 market town, and the planks which, after the 
 destruction of the bridge, formed the only 
 means of crossing it. 
 
 He must have passed along this plank four 
 or five hours before, though, preoccupied and 
 angry, he had at the time been unconscious of 
 doing so ; but now as he descended the steep 
 and slippery bank towards it, he paused and 
 hesitated to reeross it. The stream, swollen 
 by the late rains, and particularly by the 
 torrent which had fallen the night before, 
 rushed impetuously along, in a turbid seeth- 
 ing current, and had risen so high as almost 
 to undermine the block of stone on which one 
 end of the beams rested. The water shot 
 past only a few inches beneath it, bearing 
 along at times branches and the trunks of 
 small trees, which as they struck against the 
 plank shook it violently, and often threatened 
 to carry it away with them. 
 
 Ellerslie had been heedless of the danger 
 when he crossed the river before, and hardly
 
 188 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 remembered he had done so, but now in the 
 gathering darkness, with his head cooled and 
 his nerves somewhat shaken, he felt doubtful 
 whether he could accomplish the crossing. 
 He did not hesitate long before attempting it, 
 but ere he had made many steps the unsteady 
 quivering of the plank, the gleaming water 
 before his eyes, and the consciousness that if 
 he did make a false step he should have a hard 
 struggle for life, being no great swimmer, 
 made him stop and retrace his path ; and his 
 heart beat faster when he regained the bank, 
 determined to go the four miles which must 
 intervene before he came to another bridge, 
 rather than again try that perilous passage. 
 
 He had hardly climbed to the top of the 
 bank again when he heard, striking sharp and 
 loud even on the muddy road, the tramp of a 
 horse urged at a hand gallop, and presently 
 the beast and its rider loomed up into view 
 through the gloom. It was their evident in- 
 tention to cross the river, and Ellerslie, as the 
 man pulled up his horse with a sharp jerk on
 
 THE MASTEK OF WINGBOUKNE. 189 
 
 the top of the bank, and threw his leg over 
 the saddle to dismount, was about to come 
 forward and warn him of the height ot the 
 water, and the unlikelihood that in the dark 
 he would be able to cross in safety. But before 
 he had made one step from under the tall tree 
 beneath which he happened to be standing, 
 and which cast his person into additional 
 obscurity, the broken fragments of some verses 
 the stranger was singing reached his ear. It 
 was Godfrey's full and sonorous voice gaily 
 humming over the tune he had left his boon 
 companions singing at the tavern, and it was 
 rolled out in a manner which left no doubt of 
 the confused state of his intellects. His un- 
 steady gait, too, as he led the horse slowly 
 down the bank showed very plainly his con- 
 dition. 
 
 " So, ho, steady, boy ; what are you shieing 
 at?" he said, patting its head. " 'Tis a jolly 
 good life ! Come on ; steady there, now.'' 
 
 EUerslie stood still as if turned into stone. 
 The man against whom he had that day
 
 190 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 uttered so many vows of vengeance was before 
 him, and was proceeding heedlessly towards 
 the ruin he had been so powerless to inflict. 
 The plank bridge, dangerous to-night for any 
 man whose eyes were not the keenest or 
 nerves the steadiest, was impassible to Thur- 
 ston's confused head and unsteady footing. 
 He was walking ignorantly to his death, in- 
 evitably, irremediably, and EUerslie watched 
 him with an exultation he could not master. 
 The words of warning froze on his lips. It 
 was Providence itself, he said, that was work- 
 ing to this end. It was no doing of his if the 
 drunken man were drowned, if his rival were 
 swept utterly from his path. He might have 
 been miles away by this time, and Godfrey 
 would as infallibly have been drowned ; it was 
 a mere chance which had led him to witness it. 
 One wild thought of Florence filled his mind 
 — Florence and Wingbourne. How easy it 
 would now be to obtain her ! How plain and 
 smooth his future course. Godfrey's destruc- 
 tion, which for many years he had been wish-
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 191 
 
 ing for, and this afternoon scheming how to 
 compass^ was lying in wait for him now — a few 
 steps more, and he must totter and fall, and 
 be lost, — his youth, his strength, his friends, 
 his fair future of no avail as he should struggle 
 helplessly in the torrent. 
 
 And Ellerslie knew that he might yet save 
 him by a word ; he set his teeth firmly, re- 
 solved that that word should not escape him, 
 and, striding rapidly away, he hurried up the 
 road away from the bridge, aware that his 
 rival must even now be venturing upon the 
 treacherous footing. And as he went, he 
 stifled the pleadings of the faint conscience 
 which was all a life of selfish calculation had 
 left him, by muttering — '' The fool would not 
 listen to me if I did try to save him.'' 
 
 But before he had gone twenty yards, a cry 
 which thrilled to his heart, almost stopping 
 the current of his blood, burst up from the 
 river ; a cry of fear and terror, a shout for 
 assistance. It was all over ! and with the 
 thought a rush of remorse stronger even than
 
 192 THE MASTEK OF WINGBOUKNE. 
 
 his previous hatred shot through him. The 
 full horror of what he had done came over 
 him, and he turned and bounded back to the 
 river as desperately bent to save as during 
 that afternoon he had been to destroy. For 
 one instant he paused by the side of the rush- 
 ing flood to see if his help could avail. Close 
 before him was the struggling, plunging 
 horse, endeavouring to climb up the steep 
 muddy bank, and falling over in the attempt; 
 but the now panting cries for help came 
 further off, and through the dusk he fancied he 
 could see a dark object like a human head drift- 
 ing down the stream. For the time being his 
 human instincts had swept away the cold calcu- 
 lating sophisms that had kept his tongue silent 
 ^ve minutes before. He paused not a moment 
 to think on the risk he was encountering, on 
 the slender chance there was that he could 
 rescue the drowning man, but throwing off 
 his coat, and shouting at the fullest pitch of 
 his voice a cry of encouragement, he dashed 
 into the river, and*was, in a moment, out of
 
 THE MA^jlEli OF W:NGB)URNE. 193 
 
 his depth, and struggling with the swollen 
 current. 
 
 The stream, aided by his own strokes, 
 swept him rapidly down, and he looked 
 eagerly round for the object of his search, and 
 strained his ear for another drowning cry, but 
 all was dark and silent ; the cries had quite 
 ceased. His strength too was beginning to 
 fail, and he felt the necessity of gaining the 
 shore while he had the power to do so. This 
 was no easy matter, the banks were steep and 
 difficult of access, and he could neither find 
 anything to grasp or succeed in gaining a 
 footing. 
 
 At length he caught hold of a tuft of sedge 
 or grass, and was raising himself with diffi- 
 culty out of the water, when it gave way, and 
 he was again precipitated into the surging 
 stream— nor was it without great difficulty, 
 exhausted as he was by his violent exertions, 
 that he regained the surface, and endeavoured 
 with strokes that were rapidly growing 
 shorter and feebler, to keep himself afloat. A 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 few minutes more must have closed his life, 
 but the current at this instant swept him 
 under the bouglis of an alder, which hung in 
 the water, and which he seized convulsively. 
 The grasp he had obtained afforded him se- 
 cure hold, and a minute or two suf&ced so far 
 to recruit his forces, that he was able to drag 
 himself out of the water and gain the bank, 
 where he threw himself on the ground in a 
 state of complete prostration, for the moment 
 too weary to feel grateful for his own preser- 
 vation, or to remember what had been the 
 fate of his rival.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 195 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 TRUCE. 
 
 Godfrey Thurston's horse got out of the 
 river, and during the night found its way 
 home, and in the morning, when the earliest 
 of the grooms sauntered out yawning to his 
 work, was found standing with his nose 
 against the outer gate. His coat all flecked 
 with mud and foam, his saddle drenched, and 
 his trailing bridle, told a tale of disaster, and 
 the groom hastened back to the house and 
 alarmed the family. Mr. Carslope was, for
 
 196 THE MASTER OF ^VTNGROURNE. 
 
 once, thoroughly aroused, and he and Antony 
 "Wyvil, and every servant the house con- 
 tained, explored the neighbouring fields and 
 the road to Marchbury, but without success. 
 They learned indeed that he had left the 
 market town late the previous afternoon, and 
 found he had passed through a toll-gate half 
 way on the road, but more they could not 
 learn, until many hours later, when Mr. Car- 
 slope returned home despondingly from his 
 ineffectual quest, and was met at his own gate 
 by the tidings that his nephew's body had 
 been picked up some miles further down the 
 stream, and that they were even then bringing 
 it home. 
 
 Mr. Carslope was fairly overwhelmed by 
 the suddenness of the shock. He went to 
 his room, and shut himself up in it for that 
 and the following day, a prey to listless grief. 
 He had really loved his nephew with all the 
 force of which his selfish nature was capable, 
 had looked forward to his companionship for 
 the rest of his life, and to his succeeding him
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 197 
 
 in the enjoyment of Wingbourne, and Lis 
 death was as much a bluw to him on account 
 of the overturn of all his long observed do- 
 mestic habits as to his more acute affections. 
 He sat with his face buried in his hands, de- 
 sisting even from his long-accustomed pipe^ 
 and answered testily to all who came to him 
 for advice or orders. 
 
 " Go to Mr. Wy vil. He is the best person 
 to ask. Go to him, I say ; I'm not able to 
 attend to any of these matters." 
 
 On Antony therefore devolved the superin- 
 tendence and the multifarious duties incident 
 to so sudden and momentous an event, which 
 of right belonged to the master of the house 
 to perform. He had to summon the coroner, 
 to write letters to the numerous relations of 
 the Thurston family, and to make all other 
 necessary arrangements. In these he was 
 actively assisted both by the old majordomo 
 Nichols, and by Mr. Joy, whose better quali- 
 ties began to shine out in the midst of trou- 
 ble, and whose real kind-heartedness out-
 
 198 THE MASTER OF WINaBOURNE. 
 
 weighed for the time his timidity and dread of 
 incurring responsibility. It was true that 
 when endeavouring to comfort Mr. Carslope 
 for his nephew's loss, he found nothing more 
 original or less trite to say than that 
 " Blessed were th3y who died in the Lord," a 
 remark not appropriate in any way to poor 
 Godfrey Thurston, but though Mr. Carslope 
 shook his head and would not listen to him, 
 Antony found his material services of great 
 use. 
 
 There were sufficient witnesses to prove 
 in what condition Godfrey had left March- 
 bury, to make the manner of his death, swol- 
 len as the river was that night, a matter of 
 no doubt ; had there been any, Ellerslie's 
 evidence was so clearly and circumstantially 
 given, that it must have removed it. He had 
 made his appearance at the village inn in the 
 middle of the night, some hours before the 
 alarm was given at Wingbourne, but so 
 wearied out in body or mind that he had not 
 been able to give more than very general in-
 
 THE MASTER OF WIXGBOURNE. 199 
 
 formation of the accident ; and though a mes- 
 senger was despatched to Wingbourne, he 
 delayed to arrive there till after Mr. Carslope 
 had left the house on the quest after his 
 nephew in the morning. It was EUerslie, 
 however, who had directed the search to be 
 made further down the river, and even ac- 
 companied the exploring party himself, though 
 the body was found by others, and on the day 
 of the inquest, he came along with the others 
 to Wingbourne. 
 
 Mr. Carslope would not be present, but as 
 soon as the tramp of the strange feet, and the 
 echo of the opening and closing of doors, had 
 died away, and the house had returned to its 
 solemn hush, he sent for Wyvil and begged 
 him to tell him what had been said. Antony 
 complied, not at first perceiving in the dim- 
 ness of the half-shuttered room that Florence 
 was there also, on a low seat at the further 
 side of the fire, her hands clasped on her 
 knee, and her eyes fixed on her father's 
 face
 
 ^()0 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 " So Ellerslie was there, too,'' said ^Ir. 
 Carslope. " It's his turn now. He never 
 liked Godfrey — never was fair to the poor lad. 
 He did not show his satisfaction though, now, 
 I suppose. Ellerslie could always put on a 
 decent look, though he's far from sorry in his 
 own heart, I could swear." 
 
 *' On the contrary, sir ; I believe you do 
 Mr. Ellerslie injustice. I think no one who 
 was present felt it so much. He appears 
 very much cast down. If I did not know 
 that it is only two days since I had seen him, 
 I should say that he had had a month's ill- 
 ness since we last met. He seems very un- 
 happy." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it," interrupted Mr. 
 Carslope. " I shall think better of Ellerslie 
 in future. It shows he has a more feeling 
 heart than I gave him credit for. So you 
 think he was really fond of poor Godfrey, after 
 all?" 
 
 '' I think, sir, he is sincerely shocked and 
 grieved at his death."
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 201 
 
 " And well he may be/' said Florence, and 
 Antony, with a start, became first aware of 
 her presence. 
 
 '' He may well be shocked,'' she repeated, 
 vehemently, " since he and no other was the 
 cause of it." 
 
 '' The cause of it ?" exclaimed Wyvil. 
 '' True, but only as I or any other might have 
 been the innocent cause. He did not inter- 
 fere, but it would be cruel to call him the 
 cause." 
 
 ''He did more than not interfere," answered 
 Florence ; " it was his doing and no other's 
 that my cousin went to Marchbury at all. 
 Godfrey had promised me he would not go. 
 I know he would not have gone had not 
 Ellerslie persuaded him. He may well feel 
 that he has sent him to his death," she added 
 sadly. 
 
 " I was not aware of that," said Antony, 
 " 1 did not know that Ellerslie had in any 
 way influenced your cousin's going to March- 
 bury.'' 
 
 K 5
 
 202 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 " Then of what interference did you speak 
 when you said he was the innocent cause?'* 
 
 " Go on, and tell us what he said, Antony," 
 interrapted Mr. Carslope. " Has Ellerslie any- 
 thing further to do with it ; now I remember, I 
 did hear that it was he who gave the first 
 news of the disaster." 
 
 Wyvil continued : "Mr. Ellerslie deposes 
 that as he was walking homewards on the 
 3'oad leading from Marchbiiry, and was about 
 two hundred yards distant from the bridge, a 
 horseman passed him ; he did not recognise 
 him, nor did he know that the rising of the 
 river had made the plank bridge more dan- 
 gerous than usual, and therefore said nothing 
 to warn him. He had not gone much farther 
 before he heard Godfrey's voice calling for 
 help, and he hurried on, but it was then too 
 late." 
 
 " But how was it he knew nothing of the 
 state of the river ?" said Florence, doubtfully. 
 '* He must have crossed it already that after- 
 noon to get on the Marchbury road."
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 203 
 
 " So I asked him, but he said he had gone 
 round through the village, and over the stone 
 bridge on the coach road, and that he had not 
 noticed the river — indeed, by all accounts, it 
 had not risen so high then as it did after- 
 wards, later in the evening. If he had known 
 the height of the flood he should have thought 
 it his duty, he said, to warn the traveller. 
 When he recognised his cousin's voice, he 
 threw himself into the river to his assistance, 
 but the current proved too strong, and it was 
 with difficulty he himself regained the shore 
 alive.'' 
 
 " He did that?" said Florence. " I shall 
 try to think more kindly of him." 
 
 '' Ay, Ellerslie never lacked personal cour- 
 age," added Mr. Carslope. " Ts he still here, 
 Antony ? I think I should not mind seeing 
 him." 
 
 '' Had he known that, sir, I daresay he 
 would have stayed. As it is, he left directly 
 he could be spared. He told Mr. Joy he 
 should be back for the funeral next week.
 
 204 THE MASTER OF WING BOURNE. 
 
 He seemed so unhappy, that in my opinion 
 he is better away.'' 
 
 " Yes, and it's a long ride to Llanfydd — 
 he did well not to wait till after dark," said 
 Mr. Carslope. " I daresay he is sorry for 
 having judged poor Godfrey unkindly now 
 and then. Well, it will be a lesson to us all 
 not to be so hasty." 
 
 Antony left the room and returned to Mr. 
 Joy, the only stranger besides himself who 
 still remained in the darkened and silenced 
 house. For himself, though awed by the 
 suddenness of the death, and sincerely grieved 
 for the sorrow of the relations, he could not 
 properly be called a mourner. His acquaint- 
 anceship with Godfrey had been too recent, 
 and there had been too little community of 
 feeling between them, for any esteem or re- 
 gard to have sprung up. The only subject 
 on which they did think alike had been one 
 of rivalry, nor could Antony help recognising 
 that in Thurston's death he had lost the chief 
 obstacle to his winning Florence, an obstacle
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURXt:. 205 
 
 which by any other means would have been 
 well-nigh insurmountable. He could, there- 
 fore, feel nothing but a very tempered regret, 
 and was, on tliat account, all the better quali- 
 fied to encounter the multifarious duties which 
 devolved on him through Mr. Carslope's in- 
 capacity, and Ellerslie's (the nearest relation) 
 absence. 
 
 The day of the funeral came, and with it a 
 number of connections, all on the Thurston 
 side of the house. They were, without excep- 
 tion, a company of disreputable, fast men, who 
 made even the present solemn occasion an 
 excuse for conviviality. Mr. Carslope, 
 whether from actual indisposition or an un- 
 willingness to meet them, declared himself 
 unable to leave his room, and the honours of 
 the house, so far as they needed to be done 
 to visitors who made themselves far more at 
 home than he did, devolved upon Wyvil. 
 His scruples about continuing his visit to the 
 house in the time of mourning had, of neces- 
 sity, faded away before Mr. Carslope's press-
 
 206 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 ing requisitions, and Florence, though she 
 could not but recognise that her father had 
 too easily abdicated his office, had more than 
 once expressed to Antony the obligation she 
 felt to him for the trouble he had spared her 
 father. 
 
 It was late on the afternoon of the funeral 
 that Mr. Carslope said to his daughter, 
 
 " Flo\ dear, call Nichols, and tell him to 
 bring me some wine. I feel terribly over- 
 come and fatigued ; or stay — Nichols is most 
 likely busy — there is wine set out in the 
 breakfast room, I know. Go yourself and 
 bring me some ; mind which bottle it is. 
 There will be nobody there at this time." 
 
 Florence went unwillingly, for she was 
 averse to meeting any of their unwelcome 
 guests, whose conduct on the present occasion 
 had increased her dislike to them. Notwith- 
 standing her father^ s assurance that the room 
 would be empty she listened a moment at the 
 door to assure herself that it was so, before 
 entering. All was absolutely silent, and she
 
 THE MASTER OF WIXGBIURNE. 207 
 
 went in. There was, however, one man 
 standing there, his arm resting on the man- 
 telpiece; but he did not look round at her 
 entrance, and she went to the table and filled 
 her tray with the wine and glasses, hoping to 
 escape unperceived. 
 
 He saw her, however, and as she was mov- 
 ing away turned towards her. 
 
 " Are not you even going to speak to me, 
 Florence ?'^ he said, sadly. " Have we 
 quarrelled too much for that V 
 
 Florence looked up at Ellerslie's face. It 
 was pale, and looked worn with sorrow, and 
 she felt touched at once. She put out her 
 hand. 
 
 " I have no wish to make a quarrel with 
 you, Ellerslie. They were none of my seek- 
 ing when they came/* 
 
 " And you do not hate me for what has 
 passed ?" he asked, retaining her hand. 
 
 " No, I forgive you ; forgive you for trying 
 to lead him astray, for, Ellerslie, that was the 
 worst part of your dislike to him. You knew
 
 208 THE MASTER OF WIKGBOURNE. 
 
 what you were doing, and he did not; though 
 you could not tell what would be the terrible 
 consequences of his going to Marchbury that 
 day." 
 
 " But you believe me to be guiltless of 
 what happened afterwards ?" he asked eagerly, 
 and he waited for her answer in breathless 
 interest. 
 
 "Surely," said Florence, surprised. "Guilt- 
 less ? of course ; because you did not know 
 the height of the river. If you had, you 
 could not have let any man, however much a 
 stranger, try to cross it without warning him 
 of the risk. Why, Ellerslie, of course I think 
 you guiltless ; had you' known how the water 
 had risen it would have been like murder.'^ 
 
 She stopped an instant, and then looked 
 questioningly at his face. It was as impene- 
 trable as usual in its settled wretchedness ; 
 and she went on eagerly, fearing by his silence 
 that she had pained him, though she did 
 not know how. 
 
 " We might, anyone of us, have let him
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 209 
 
 pass in the same manner; but we should not 
 all, Ellerslie, have risked our lives so nobly 
 in the endeavour to save his/' 
 
 ^' That was easy,", said Ellerslie, abruptly. 
 " You understand nothing about it," and he 
 turned away again to the mantelpiece. 
 
 Florence took up her tray of wine, and was 
 about to leave the room, when he stopped her 
 again, saying, 
 
 '•'' And you forgive me for all that passed 
 between us that afternoon ? for my behaviour 
 to you?" 
 
 " Certainly," said Florence, though she 
 coloured deeply as she recollected Ellerslies' 
 words then ; but she add!ed firmly, " when I for- 
 gave you for the way in which you used to 
 speak of Godfrey, I should not remember 
 anything on my own account. Will you not 
 come and see my father ?" 
 
 " Not now," said Ellerslie, hurriedly; "I 
 am going back to Llanfydd; I'm best alone. 
 If I can be of any use to you, write to me,
 
 210 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 and ril ride over ; but if not I think I shall 
 not trouble you for the next month or two," 
 and so saying he left her, 
 
 "Wy vil's duties were not yet over ; for the 
 next day, Mr. Carslope having given audience 
 to a messenger from the farm, again summoned 
 him. 
 
 "Sit down, Antony ; misfortunes never 
 come single," said Mr. Carslope, in a melan- 
 choly voice. "Here we have, thanks to you, 
 just settled down again to stand face to face 
 with our loss, when a fresh thing has hap- 
 pened to upset my poor brain ; till I hardly 
 know whether I am asleep or awake, or what 
 is to become of us alL" 
 
 " I trust nothing very serious has occurred, 
 sir.'' 
 
 " You shall hear, and be the judge; next 
 to what has already happened, or losing Flo' 
 herself, I don't think that anything much 
 worse could come. My bailiff, Wallis, has 
 had a paralytic stroke this morning."
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 211 
 
 " Is that all ?" exclaimed Antony, who at 
 the mention of 'Florence's name liad felt a 
 load of apprehension. 
 
 " All ? yes, and enough too. You don't 
 seem to feel for me. You have no idea of 
 what a valuable man he is to me. He has 
 been the bailiff for more than twenty years. 
 I don't know, in fact, what I shall do without 
 him. I always fancy that I shall end at last 
 with paralysis, or it may be apoplexy ; my 
 father died of apoplexy ; he was a very good 
 liver. But as I was saying, poor Wallis is a 
 most valuable man, and you must see your- 
 self, Antony, how impossible it will be to 
 replace him during harvest time, and how 
 utterly unfit I am for superintending the farm. 
 I have not been able to do more than ride 
 round occasionally for the last five years, and 
 the late shock has proved completely too 
 much for me." 
 
 '' You may possibly find the exertion bene- 
 fit your health,^' said Wyvil. 
 
 " I tell you I shall not," said his host, im-
 
 212 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUKNE, 
 
 patiently, " Exertion has always hurt me ; 
 I have always been the victim of trying to 
 do too much. With my good will I don't 
 stir one step more than I have been in the 
 daily habit of doing. Godfrey, poor fellow, 
 if he had lived would have been of the 
 greatest service to me now ; but I have one 
 proposition to make, Antony, if you care to 
 oblige me." 
 
 " Name it, sir. I shall have the greatest 
 pleasure in serving you in anything.'^ 
 
 '' You are a good lad, Antony, and a kind 
 one, and deserve everything that Flo' has said 
 of you." 
 
 Wyvil would fain have inquired what she 
 had said, but Mr. Carslope gave him no 
 time. 
 
 ''It is this. So long as Wallis is laid up 
 and cannot stir, you shall go to him and take 
 his directions and oversee the men for us, 
 and carry matters with a high hand 
 — within reason — you must be guided by us, 
 Antony ; young folks must take advice. But
 
 THE MASTKK OF WINCt150UR\E. 213 
 
 if you will do this for me, just acting as go- 
 between for Wallis and the men, it will be 
 doing me a service I shall never forget, and 
 make tlie time of your visit here pass profit- 
 ably. It may even make you stay longer ; I 
 know young men like to be of consequence, 
 and you can never stop at Wingbourne long 
 enough to satisfy me, my young friend." 
 
 It need scarcely be said that after this 
 flattering invitation Antony stayed, too glad 
 of any pretext for prolonging his residence 
 in Florence's home. Conscious that the pre- 
 sent was not a time in which to urge his suit 
 upon Mr. Carslope, or to hope to make any 
 impression on Florence, he had been sadly 
 looking forward to the necessity of leaving 
 Wingbourne, not to return, perhaps, till after 
 a long interval. It was no light task to be 
 the assistant of Wallis, a cross old man, 
 rendered still crosser by his present infirmi- 
 ties; and possessed with very little respect 
 for Mr. WyviFs acquirements, seeing that he 
 was totally ignorant of farming affairs ; but
 
 214 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 to Antony it was rapture, for it formed the 
 justification of Ms further stay at Wing- 
 bourne, and he applied himself to his task 
 with a zeal and assiduity that soon won the 
 respect of the men, and even the reluctant 
 approbation of poor Wallis. 
 
 Florence, on her part, felt secretly gratified 
 to her father for having provided so able an 
 assistant and so pleasant a companion for 
 himself; and day by day she acknowledged 
 more reason to be glad of it. She had felt a 
 true and tender affection for her cousin, but 
 not enough, as her heart now and then con- 
 fessed, to fit her for becoming his wife, and 
 she was now conscious, in the midst of her 
 sincere sorrow for him, of a species of relief 
 that things were changed, and that her life 
 was not destined to run on in its old groove. 
 She blamed herself for hard-heartedness to- 
 wards Godfrey, and tried to check the thought, 
 but no amount of self-condemnation could 
 alter the fact that she was happier because 
 her poor cousin was no longer there to claim
 
 THE MASTER OF WiNGBOURNE. 2i5 
 
 her hand and her affection ; and once or twice 
 she found herself dwelling on what the 
 diflference in her feelings would have been, if 
 Antony had been the one to cross the river 
 on that fatal night ; but she turned from this 
 idea with a shudder. 
 
 Not a word of love was spoken on either 
 side. Wy vil was as carefully guarded in his 
 intercourse with her as ever, feeling it but due 
 to the recent mourning of the family ; and 
 Florence, though she guessed pretty clearly 
 the depth of her own feelings, and intuitively 
 knew that he reciprocated them, had at times 
 a shy reserve in her manner, arising from her 
 memories of her cousin^ s still recent death, 
 which was quite foreign to her former frank 
 companionability. But, though no word of 
 love was spoken, it could not escape any 
 clear-sighted observer that it was from no 
 absence of that quality. 
 
 There were two people in the house who 
 did not view Mr. Wyvil's protracted stay 
 with the same favourable eyes.
 
 216 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 " A blind man could see what the young- 
 gentleman is stopping here for/^ remarked 
 Mrs. Williams, the housekeeper, to her friend 
 and coadjutor, Nichols ; " but Mr. Garslope is 
 blinder than the blind, and will know nothing 
 about it till they ask him to give her away." 
 
 " He kens well eneugh," said Nichols, 
 with some superiority and disdain at her 
 want of observation. " It may be the master 
 will like such a son-in-law, and what for no ? 
 He's a douce well-favoured lad eneugh, and 
 unco' fond of the lassie." 
 
 " He may be fond of her,'' said the house- 
 keeper ; '' but it's a poor tale that Miss Flo- 
 rence should marry out of the family, and 
 Wingbourne go to strangers. I did think 
 that since Mr. Godfrey's death she would 
 have taken Mr. Ellerslie, mayhap, and the 
 place come back to its old name." 
 
 '' There's two sides to that," said Nichols. 
 '' Is Mr. Ellerslie willing ; I'll no say to have 
 the land ; trust him for that, but to take the 
 lady with it ?"
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 217 
 
 '* And if he's not/' answered the house- 
 keeper, "he'll be the first of his name as 
 liked what ought to have been his to go to 
 strangers." 
 
 " It might have been, it might have been," 
 said Nichols, shaking his head ; " and 
 though Mr. Ellerslie's neither so fair spoken 
 nor so weel favoured as this young chap, I'li 
 not deny but I'd be glad to see him master 
 of the place; and he'd have managed it bet- 
 ter I doubt than this young fellow, who was 
 not even born in England, they say. Not 
 that that's his ain fault neither ; but I'm 
 thinking that Mr. Ellerslie has lost his chance 
 by staying so long- at Llanfydd, and if, with- 
 out running against my duty, I could let 
 him know what is going on while he's away, 
 it would, maybe, bring him back again 
 quicker than he went." 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 218 THE MASTEK OF WINGBOUKNE, 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE FIRST CHANGE IN THE CARDS. 
 
 Summer had glided into autumn, and No- 
 vember was closing with thick mists, round 
 the lonely cottage on the hill, and Ellerslie 
 still remained at Llanfydd ; nor did he seem 
 disposed to exchange his retirement for the 
 once indispensable, if not congenial, sight of 
 the faces of his fellow men. 
 
 The memory of the horror he had ex- 
 perienced on first hearing the drowning cries 
 for help of his rival, had remained indelibly
 
 THE MAbTER OF WINGBOURNE. 219 
 
 impressed on his mind. The cold-hearted 
 sophistry with which at the time he had en- 
 deavom-ed to persuade himself that it was 
 Providence, and not he, who was suffering 
 the poor youth to walk blindly to his death, 
 had then and for ever abandoned him ; and 
 though shrinking from the remorse which 
 such a conviction brought with it, he had 
 tried to reason himself back into the belief, 
 he was unable to regain it. He knew that 
 he had had a man's life in his hands, and had 
 deliberately cast it away. 
 
 During the long hours of the night, which 
 he spent by the river's side, before he sum- 
 moned resolution enough to go and spread 
 the alarm at the village, he had ample op- 
 portunity to reflect on what he had done, and 
 to consider what course was the best consult- 
 ing his own reputation. It was true that Lad 
 there been any number of witnesses of their 
 meeting at the river side, no evidence could 
 be adduced to show he had been guilty of 
 his cousin's death; he was guilty by an act 
 
 L 2
 
 220 THE MASTEli OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 of omission, and no one could tell the revenge- 
 ful thoughts that had been locked up in his 
 own breast, or prove that at the time he let God- 
 frey Thurston pass by him to the plank bridge, 
 he knew that the crossing would prove im- 
 practicable to a man in his condition. But 
 his dislike to young Thurston had long been 
 surmised, and he now saw reason to congratu- 
 late himself on the exertions which, in his 
 blinder and more generous impulses, he had 
 made irreflectively. That he should have 
 risked his own life to save Godfrey's, would 
 silence all doubts that the two kinsmen 
 had not parted friends. His own state of 
 exhaustion, his dress heavy with wet, his 
 '' looks downcast and damp," and the exacti- 
 tude with which he described the scene and 
 circumstances, all confirmed his tale as 
 every tittle true. No one doubted that it 
 could be other than what he said ; and 
 Florence's simple and wholly unpremedi- 
 tated words, " Had you known how the water 
 had risen it would have been murder," had
 
 THE masti^:r of wingbourne. 221 
 
 been the only external comment made which 
 tallied with his conscience. It startled and 
 unnerved him; and it was no wonder that 
 after that he needed the solitude of Llan- 
 fydd. 
 
 For the remembrance of his conduct at 
 the river's side had this of painful in it : It 
 was not the sudden impulse of unreasoning 
 hatred, but the following out of the desire 
 of years. It was true, that two minutes 
 before he had no idea that fate would throw 
 his rival into his power in such a manner ; 
 but all that evening he had been scheming 
 his destruction, and not that evening alone, 
 but through the latter halt of his life he had 
 been his secret enemy, feeding his dislike with 
 sneers, and secretly longing that chance or 
 destiny would cut the gordian knot which 
 his own hand was powerless to loose. God- 
 frey's ruin, though the work of a moment, 
 had thus been the wish of many years; — 
 his discontent, his- cynicism, his restlessnes, 
 had all reference to the fact that a rival lay
 
 f:22 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 between him and "Wingbourne ; nor could 
 he, now that the memory of this antagonism 
 was painful to him, recall a single day when 
 that wish had not been in his heart. 
 
 But these thoughts were extremely dis- 
 agreeable, and Ellerslie's temperament led 
 him to try to shun them as much as possible. 
 He fixed his mind on Wingbourne, the prize 
 on which he had set his soul for so many 
 years, and which, new that it was so nearly 
 in his grasp, appeared far less worthy to have 
 been the dream of his life. 
 
 But, in proportion, as his value for Wing- 
 bourne decreased, his love for Florence for 
 her own sake grew more intense. He no 
 longer looked upon her as the heiress of a 
 property which might have been his — a being 
 whose removal was to be wished for ; she 
 was now the chief object of his ambition — 
 the principal reward he proposed to himself 
 for his schemes. If, when he first entertained 
 the idea of marrying her, he had only looked 
 upon her as a part of the appanage of Wing-
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 223 
 
 bourne, he made ample amends for the slight 
 now ; and had it been necessary, in order to 
 win her, to resign all hope of her wealth, he 
 would not have long hesitated. But God- 
 frey had been his successful rival in Florence's 
 heart as well as in the estate, and, therefore, 
 Rllerslie, through all his uncomfortable feel- 
 ings, and though he would have given his 
 right hand to have had no share in his 
 cousin^s death, never went the length of wish- 
 ing him alive again, 
 
 Ellerslie would not have remained away 
 from Wingbourne, could he have imagined the 
 advantage his absence would give to Wy vil ; 
 but he believed the young Anglo-Indian to 
 have left the country long since. Antony's 
 departure had been fixed for the very day on 
 which the body was found — it was natural 
 that that event should have delayed it a few 
 days ; but Ellerslie had no idea that the 
 three ensuing months had also been spent 
 by him there. He had paid but little at- 
 tention to Antony, never imagining that he
 
 224 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNR. 
 
 was in love with Florence in the short time 
 in which he had known her, and he did not 
 know how this time was indefinitely pro- 
 longed. There was no communication be- 
 tween Wingbourne and Llanfydd, and he 
 heard nothing of his relative's affairs ; and 
 little imagining that there was a traitor in 
 the camp, he thought his absence would give 
 Florence leisure to recover from the first 
 shock of grief, and smooth the way for his 
 own success. 
 
 His original intention had been to wait for 
 Christmas before he visited the Carslopes ; 
 but as the days went by, they began to hang 
 more heavily on his hands, and his im- 
 patience to hear news of his relatives in- 
 creased. There was no likelihood of his 
 doing so, unless he wrote first or inquired in 
 person, for Mr. Carslope rarely wrote a 
 spontaneous letter to anyone, nor were the 
 other inhabitants of Wingbourne more com- 
 municative. His surprise, therefore, equalled 
 his gratification, when, through the heavy
 
 THE MA8TLR OF WINGBOURNE. 225 
 
 mists and close drizzle of a November after- 
 noon, he saw the old steward, Nichols, moun- 
 ted on a stout Welsh ponj, ride up to the 
 farm house door. 
 
 '' Nothing amiss at home, I hope ?'' he 
 said, coming himself to the door to meet 
 him. 
 
 " Nothing, nothing, I thank you kindly, 
 sir," said the old servant, slowly dismounting. 
 " Can one of your lads put the pony into a 
 wee bit of shelter, poor thing, for if s an ill 
 ride up to your house, Mr. EUerslie, and I 
 must be off early the morn, or the master 
 will miss me. He let me go for this one 
 night ; but I gave Mrs. Williams very parti- 
 cular directions about the supper." 
 
 '' And why have you come to see me?" 
 said EUerslie. " Take a chair near the fire, 
 Nichols, and pull off jour wet coat. You 
 must have some reason for doing so, for a 
 man of your years does not undertake a 
 twenty-mile ride for pleasure only." 
 
 " And you'll not count the pleasure of 
 
 L 5
 
 226 THE MASTEK OF \MNGBOUKNE, 
 
 seeing you, Mr. Ellerslie, as warrant eneugh ?" 
 said the old steward; "though for that mat- 
 ter you're looking but moped, up here. We 
 had been so long without hearing either good 
 or bad from you, that I had grown uneasy. 
 It would not do for all the old family to go 
 off at once." 
 
 "Well, thank you for tbe interest im- 
 plied," said Ellerslie, carelessly. " And tell 
 me, how are you all getting on. How is 
 your master?" 
 
 '^ So so-ish — I may say, sir. Well eneugh 
 for a man of his years, though he's no that 
 old either — not like me who have been fifty 
 or sixty years in service, more or less, since 
 the old gentleman, Mr. Ellerslie, took me, 
 a white-headed younker, to answer the bells. 
 But I'm stronger than Mr. Carslope yet; and 
 while he can only ride out for an hour in the 
 prime of the day, I can take my twenty- 
 mile ride up here, and not feel more than a 
 wee stif&sh in the joints afterwards." 
 
 " Oh, you'll outlive us all, Nichols. And
 
 TTTE MAS^TEK OF WINGROURNE. 227 
 
 Miss Carslope, has she recovered her 
 spirits ?" 
 
 "Ow, she's blithely/' answered Nichols. 
 '' She has begun to sing again, and it's sweet 
 to hear her bonny voice round the house once 
 more; and she's riding round the country 
 morn and evening, while the rain holds up, 
 and the light lasts, and afterwards sometimes, 
 for last night she came home an hour after 
 sundown, and as dripping as a water-fowl. 
 She had been lost in the hills, as you mind 
 you once met her last July, Mr. Ellerslie, and 
 they had galloped home nigh from the Hog's 
 Back, she and Mr. Wyvil." 
 
 Ellerslie had hitherto been listening un- 
 concernedly enough, while the old steward 
 rambled on, but on the mention of Wyvil's 
 name he looked up in astonishment. 
 
 '' Mr. Wyvil ? You do not mean to say, 
 Nichols, that Mr. Wyvil is there still, after 
 all this time has elapsed?" 
 
 '^ Oh, aye, but he is," answered Nichols, 
 with the full consciousness that he had now
 
 228 THE MASTER OF WiyGBOURNE. 
 
 come to the important part of his communi- 
 cation, to which all the rest had been only 
 the preamble. " Mr. Wyvil is still here, and 
 is like to remain more than as long again. 
 He rides here and he rides there, and the 
 ploughboys and carters have to come to him 
 for orders as if he was master of the house, 
 and be will be master, too, it'« plain to be 
 seen, when Mr, Carslope dies, poor gentle- 
 man, for there's no one now can come be- 
 tween him and Miss Florence, and he will be 
 real master of Wingbourne instead of playing 
 at it as he does now.'' 
 
 "What do you mean?" repealed Ellerslie, 
 his brow lowering with anger. ^' Are Mr. 
 Wyvil and Miss Carslope engaged to be mar- 
 ried ?" 
 
 " No, they're not just that engaged — it's 
 too soon, may be, after Mr. Godfrey's death ; 
 but anyone may see what they're coming to. 
 He'll sit and look at her till the eyes seem 
 fixed in his head, and watch for the words 
 coming out of her lips, and there is not a
 
 THE MASTKR OF WINGBOURNE. 229 
 
 thing done on the farm as slie would not like 
 it. It was only the other day when old 
 Bliicher — you mind the old iron-grey horse, 
 fell down in the shafts, and ought to have 
 been knocked on the head, for he is na' fit for 
 a stroke of work. Miss Florence did not 
 wish it, and he is now in the stable taking the 
 place of a better horse than himself. Mr. 
 Wyvil wouldn't have a thing touched if she 
 asked him not." 
 
 " Pshaw ! those are things which every 
 lady of Miss Carslope's rank has a right to 
 expect," said Ellerslie. " Are these all the 
 reasons you have for saying they will be en- 
 gaged?" 
 
 '^ All the reasons? T trow not," said 
 Nichols, "but there are things which ilka 
 man may see with his own e'en which sound 
 good for nothing when told. He's got books 
 — new ones, from London for her, and she 
 reads them night and morn when he's not to 
 hand to talk about them, and they take rides 
 together as I told you before, and he helped
 
 230 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 her to gather in her flower seeds from the 
 garden ; and between them they Ve made the 
 old gentleman take only half the drink he's 
 accustomed to, though I see him often cast a 
 longing look at the decanter — and he'd take it 
 too, if he'd anyone to sit by and help him to 
 enjoy his glass. And they, — but, in short, 
 Mr. Ellerslie, you may take my word that 
 they're as bonny a pair of lovers as you'll 
 find betwixt here and Edinbro', and that you 
 would have seen for yourself if you had been 
 staying with your kindred instead of sulking 
 here like a badger in his hole." 
 
 Ellerslie secretly cursed himself for his 
 folly in suffering matters to continue so long 
 without his supervision, but he said nothing, 
 afraid to say too much. Nichols, who could 
 keenly interpret the blaze of anger in his 
 eyes, felt tolerably sure that the object of his 
 mission, namely, to induce Ellerslie to return 
 to Wingbourne, had not miscarried. 
 
 " I'm saying nought against the young 
 gentleman, you'll mind that, sir. He is open
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 231 
 
 handed and liberal, and does not quarrel with 
 the poor fellows for the matter of an odd six- 
 pence or so in their Saturday e'en wage ; and 
 the servants have no fault to find with him, 
 and are well enough contented that it should 
 be as it is ; and I don't wonder at Miss 
 Florence either for thinking well of him, for 
 he's a gentleman of the right sort — good- 
 looking to the eye, and thinks all the world 
 of her, though in that he's no better than Mr. 
 Godfrey that was. But it's a sair thing to 
 me that Miss Florence should make one that's 
 not in the family, so to speak, master of 
 Wingbourne, and he not even born in 
 England, but in the Indies they tell me." 
 
 " Miss Carslope is at perfect liberty to 
 please herself," said Ellerslie, harslily. 
 
 " I'm not saying no, sir. Young ladies 
 are mostly, especially when they're rich and 
 bonny like my young mistress; but to my 
 mind she did better when she would have 
 married Mr. Godfrey, for all there was no
 
 232 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 liking between him and you, sir. Now you 
 need not start, Mr. Ellerslie, there is often 
 little kindness lost between near relations. 
 Pity that Christian charity should be so 
 scarce, but it's often hard to come by, and 
 Mr. Godfrey liked you no better than you 
 did him, for by that he was the younger and 
 richer, and had not so much occasion for dis- 
 like But, poor fellow, he's the worst off 
 now," continued the old steward with ques- 
 tionable orthodoxy ; " but be that as it may, 
 he was an Ellerslie in one half of bis blood, 
 and had a sort of right to Wingbourne, and 
 ]Miss Florence might have done worse than to 
 take him. But this gentleman that is neither 
 fish nor fowl, neither of the family itself nor 
 of any other that's known in these parts, is 
 like to cut us all out and bring in his new 
 ways." 
 
 " That's enough said for to-night, Nichols," 
 interrupted Ellerslie. '' I'm not in the hu- 
 mour for talking. Go and see what my cook
 
 'IHE MASTER OF WINGB:)URNK. 233 
 
 can find you for supper ; you must be hungry 
 after your long ride. Good night; I shall 
 see you before you start in the morning.'^ 
 
 The door closed upon Nichols inwardly 
 chuckling at his success, and Ellerslie, as soon 
 as he was alone, abandoned himself to rage 
 and mortification. 
 
 This was the fruit of his long absence ! He 
 had imagined that she wanted time to recover 
 from the grief of losing her cousin before she 
 could open her heart to a fresh love, and, be- 
 hold, she had already bound herself to ano- 
 ther, and he had lost the golden opportunity 
 by rashly keeping away so long. He could 
 not doubt for one instant she loved Wyvil — 
 every word Nichols had said confirmed it, 
 and he raved at himself for a consummate 
 fool not to have foreseen it all. He might 
 have guessed that Wyvil would find some 
 pretext to stay at Wingbourne and try to win 
 her. He remembered now, with a thrill of 
 wonder at his own forgetfulness, how marked 
 was Antonyms admiration for her during the
 
 234 THE MASTER OF WINaBOURNE. 
 
 first week of his stay there, and he recalled 
 that Mr. Carslope had once hinted that an 
 honourable scruple to make her break her 
 engagement, was possibly the only hindrance 
 to a more decided declaration of his senti- 
 ments. 
 
 Of course Ellerslie vowed with vows bitter 
 and strong that Antony should never have 
 her ; but how was it to be prevented ? Not 
 by any such means as he had plotted against 
 Godfrey — he could not expect chance to be 
 a second time favourable to him, and, be- 
 sides, Ellerslie shrank from having a second 
 life to answer for. He was resolved that 
 Wyvil should be safe from all attempts of his. 
 There were other means that he could use. 
 Florence's heart might yet be his for the 
 winning, and if love could not persuade her 
 to change her mind, he had other arguments 
 in his control which would make any filial 
 tender-hearted girl yield. 
 
 "But it is not come to that yet!" mut- 
 tered Ellerslie. "Why need I think of it?
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURXR. 235 
 
 Is it utterly impossible that she should love 
 me for my own sake ? I never tried to make 
 any woman love me yet, but it ought not to 
 be so difficult. I am her own relation, and 
 could I but compel Antony Wyvil to leave 
 the house for a while that I might have as 
 fair a start as he has, I believe I could suc- 
 ceed. If the worst comes, and she already 
 loves him past recall, I am still sure of her. 
 But what would I not give that she should 
 come to me of her own free will, and not 
 from fear or filial duty. Not one hint of it 
 till I see whether I cannot win her without ! 
 I must stay no longer here — to-morrow I 
 must go to Wingbourne. I have lost too 
 many days already *,'' and having come to this 
 resolution, Ellerslie took up his farming ac- 
 count books, and busied himself for the next 
 hour in squaring and balancing their columns, 
 and doing other business in preparation for a 
 somewhat lengthy absence from home. Then 
 he took up his hat, and, indifferent to the 
 blackness of the night and the all -penetrating
 
 236 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 rain, he walked across the brow of the hill to 
 the cottage where his foreman lived, to give 
 him directions for the next week or two. 
 
 " If I am not back then I will write," he 
 ended, " and let yon have orders, and what 
 further money you want. There is but little 
 going on at this time of year. But if you 
 want me suddenly you must send for me at 
 Wingbourne — I am not going farther away 
 this winter." 
 
 The next morning, however, as, in com- 
 pany with Nichols, Ellerslie rode down the 
 hill, his self-confidence had largely deserted 
 him, and he listened with but half an ear to 
 the old man's garrulous talk. He was ab- 
 sorbed in his own schemes and his despond- 
 ent forebodings. He was growing more 
 keenly sensible to his personal disadvantages 
 compared with Wyvil. Antony was nearly 
 of Florence's own age; he possessed a gay 
 buoyancy of temper, very like her own, and 
 was besides handsome enough, if she had 
 been an unreflecting girl, to win her heart for
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. ?.'67 
 
 that alone. Besides he had not had those 
 past quarrels with Godfrey which had so 
 deeply prejudiced Florence against her un- 
 cordial kinsman ; and his friendly, uninter- 
 rupted intercourse with her for the last four 
 months must have told terribly in his favour. 
 Ellerslie's estimation of his own chances grew 
 less and less flattering, as he thought of all 
 these things ; and, as his confidence waned, 
 his mind reverted more to those secret 
 schemes by which he meant, should all else 
 fail, to gain his end. A sudden thought 
 seemed to strike hirp. His brow, overclouded 
 before, grew tenfold more gloomy, and he in- 
 terrupted unceremoniously a long description 
 Nichols was giving him of a project started 
 by Florence, and seconded by Wyvil, to re- 
 furnish the old, handsome wing of the house. 
 '' Eide on now alone, and tell them I shall 
 be at Wingbourne in the course of the day. 
 I have business at Marchbury, and this road 
 to the right will take me there soonest," and 
 spurring his horse he abandoned the aggrieved
 
 238 THE MASTER OF WiNGBOUliNE. 
 
 majordomo, and did not draw bridle till after 
 a rapid ride had taken him to the door of 
 Mr, Garslope's lawyer's office in the March- 
 bury High Street. 
 
 Mr. Solly was engaged with other business, 
 and though looking much gratified by Ellers- 
 lie's visit, which though not otherwise like an 
 angel's, were few and far between, and curious 
 to know the cause, he begged him to be 
 seated till he had despatched it. Ellerslie 
 complied, listening as he did so to the dis- 
 course which would not generally have inter- 
 ested him, pertaining only to some mining 
 speculations, concerning which the client was 
 asking his lawyer's advice before plunging 
 in. But under present circumstances, the 
 conversation coincided with his own thoughts, 
 and as soon as the visitor took his leave, and 
 the agent, with an obsequious and delighted 
 bow, prepared to give him his full attention, 
 he continued the subject. 
 
 " Do you generally advise your clients to 
 embark in mining speculations, Mr. Solly ?"
 
 thp: master of wingboukne. 239 
 
 " Not as a rule, sir ; not in general mining- 
 speculations ; but where there are good secu- 
 rities and it is tolerably safe, I do not dis- 
 courage it. There is not a doubt that it is a 
 very fascinating investment. This will be a 
 very flourishing concern, 1 expect. The shares 
 are almost all taken. T have done a little in 
 that way myself; but I have no doubt you 
 would be able to be accommodated, Mr. 
 Ellerslie, if you felt inclined — '' 
 
 " No thank you — not for me,'' said Ellers- 
 lie. " Do I remember rightly, that Mr. Cars- 
 lope, a good many years ago, lost a great deal 
 of money in some transactions of that sort ?" 
 *' Not through my advising, sir. Mr. 
 Thurston, his brother-in-law, persuaded him 
 to put his money into that," said the lawyer, 
 eager to exculpate himself from the charge 
 of false judgement. 
 
 "What was the precise amount of Mr. 
 Carslope's losses ? " asked Ellerslie, care- 
 lessly. 
 
 " You'll excuse me, I know, Mr, Ellerslie,
 
 240 THE MASThK OF WINGBOUKNE. 
 
 but I never talk of my client's affairs. I beg 
 a thousand pardons, but I make it a rule. 
 Without it there could be no confidence." 
 
 Ellerslie looked annoyed, but answered, 
 '^You are perfectly right. I asked out of 
 very idle curiosity." 
 
 " And in what may I have the pleasure of 
 being of service to you, sir, this morning ?'^ 
 asked the attorney. '' Is there any little 
 affair I can get done for you ?" 
 
 " I believe," said Ellerslie, " my motive 
 was chiefly to know what has been the news 
 for the last three months. I have not been at 
 Marchbury since that time, and have heard 
 absolutely nothing." 
 
 Mr. Solly took up a ruler and began softly 
 rubbing the table with it. He suspected that 
 something else lay beneath this simple expla- 
 nation. He believed that Ellerslie had come 
 to ask his assistance in something, and w^as 
 anxious to offer it with the greatest show of 
 zeal compatible with securing at the same 
 time the greatest amount of profit.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 241 
 
 " You have not been to Wingbourne, then, 
 I presume^ since tlie mournful event ?" he 
 observed, after waiting a few minutes for 
 Ellerslie to speak, in the hope he would solve 
 the enigma. 
 
 *' I have not. I am going there now." 
 
 '•Some people have said — I hope you will 
 excuse my mentioning so idle a report, Mr. 
 Ellerslie, but you asked to hear the current 
 news — that since poor Mr. Godfrey is out of 
 the question, we mighthope to see you master 
 there before long.'' 
 
 Ellerslie reflected rapidly. It was evident 
 he could not obtain the information he wanted 
 without enlisting Solly into his interests, and 
 making him understand it would be worth 
 his while to oblige him, if he had the chance 
 of becoming a future wealthy proprietor, with 
 the prospect of marriage settlements, title 
 deeds, and other business to entrust to his man 
 of business. It might. In such a case, be more 
 to his interest to serve EllersUe than to keep 
 faith with his present client. His conclusions 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 were arrived at so speedily that there was no 
 appearance of hesitation or delay before he 
 answered, with a smile that implied even more 
 than his words, 
 
 *' The report is not quite so idle as they 
 sometimes are, Mr. Solly/' 
 
 ''Allow me to wish you joy,'' said the 
 gratified attorney. '' Miss Carslope is an 
 excellent young lady — your relative, too — 
 nothing could be more appropriate ; and the 
 property, though, of course, I ought not to 
 mention it in the same breath as the lady, is 
 a very handsome one, and very improvable." 
 
 '' That can only be a consideration to me 
 from the prospect it gives me of being useful 
 to my friends," said Ellerslie, "amongst 
 which I can assure you, Mr. Solly, I count 
 you not least." 
 
 To another man Ellerslie would not have 
 spoken so broadly ; but he said to himself 
 that any delicacy of intimation would be 
 wasted on Mr. Solly, who could swallow even 
 a more open bribe without blushing. And
 
 THE MASTER OF VVINaBOURNE. 243 
 
 the result proved he was justified. The 
 lawyer fully understood that in some way (he 
 could not yet tell how) his co-operation was 
 required to forward Ellerslie's marriage, and 
 it should be made worth his while to do 
 so. He listened respectfully for more, merely 
 putting in the question, 
 
 '*And how soon are we to wish you joy, 
 sir?'' 
 
 "We must wait a short time first," said 
 EUerslie, glancing at the crape band round 
 his hat. " Indeed, I ought, in fairness, to 
 tell you Mr. Sollj), that Miss Carslope need 
 not consider herself in any way bound as 
 yet. There is nothing definitely settled." 
 
 " Oh, no ; it is too soon yet," said the 
 lawyer, quite understanding the disclaimer to 
 be worth little more than a protest against 
 haste ; " but in another month or two ?" 
 
 " And you may even have to offer your 
 congratulations to another," pursued EUerslie, 
 " to Mr. Wyvil, the young London lawyer. 
 Stranger things have happened." 
 
 M 2
 
 244 THE MASIEK OF W1^GB0URNE. 
 
 Mr. Solly's countenance visibly fell. " I 
 hope you have no authority, sir, for thinking 
 such an event likely ? Mr. Wyvil is quite a 
 stranger in these parts. I do not think the 
 news would give half so much satisfaction." 
 
 '' And for that very reason, perhaps, the 
 less said of the whole affair the betier. 1 am 
 sure I may depend upon you, Mr. Solly, for 
 contradicting any report that Miss Carslope 
 is engaged." 
 
 The lawyer bowed acquiescence, and again 
 rubbed the ruler softly on the table. He was 
 quite at fault. Ellerslie continued, 
 
 " Mr. Wyvil is studying for the law. You 
 will probably see a good many changes come 
 to pass. I am told (though I cannot vouch 
 for the truth of it) that he has relations, 
 solicitors in London, and that the Carslope 
 estate business will be considered quite a nest- 
 egg for them." 
 
 " So be taken out of my hands," soliloquised 
 the agent, as Ellerslie paused. He was 
 beginning to recover the scent. Ellerslie
 
 THE MAST1':K of WINGBOUKNE. 245 
 
 meant him to see that it would be against his 
 interest that Mr. Wyvil should many the 
 heiress, and he was expected to do or say 
 something to hinder it. His visitor did not 
 leave him long in doubt. 
 
 '' Mr. Wyvil imagines it to be a larger 
 estate than it is, I fancy.'' 
 
 '' There is no fault to be found with the 
 estate," said Mr. Solly, hesitating — he was 
 feeling his ground now. " It's a fair property, 
 though it was injured many years ago by 
 paying off all the ready money to Mrs. 
 Thurston ; but it has well recovered it since. 
 Mr. Carslope has not done all he might to it, 
 but there are great capabilities for improve- 
 ment, and there's money laid by, too." 
 
 " Belonging to Mr. Carslope ? '' asked 
 Ellerslie, unconcernedly. The lawyer again 
 looked doubtful. '"' You need have no hesita- 
 tion in letting me know how his affairs stand,'' 
 continued Ellerslie. " Our interests will p]'0- 
 bably be one in a few months. I respect 
 your scruples, but here they are not binding.
 
 246 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 Mr. Wjvil believes that Miss Carslope in- 
 herits some fortune from her father, as well 
 as the Wingbourne estate in her own right. 
 On the other hand, I believe that money to 
 have been lost in the speculations alluded to 
 before I shall be much obliged if you will 
 tell us which is correct. If Mr. Wyvil's 
 views are, as 1 think, purely mercenary, it 
 will make some difference to him.'' 
 
 " The murder is out," thought Mr. Soliy. 
 " This information is to be my first service. 
 Well, I see but little harm in it. I have no 
 objection to satisfy you, Mr. Ellerslie," he 
 continued aloud. " ]\Ir. Carslope's own pro- 
 perty was never a very large one; but you are 
 correct in supposing it was all sunk in those 
 mines.'' 
 
 '* Will you oblige me with the par- 
 ticulars?" said Ellerslie, quietly; and the 
 agent having satisfied his accommodating 
 conscience with the stipulation that the details 
 were to go no further than Mr- Ellerslie, who, 
 as he said, might already be considered Mr.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 247 
 
 Carslope's alter ego^ launched into full con- 
 fidence concerning his client's affairs. 
 
 " Well, I am sure of one thing," said 
 EUerslie to himself, as an hour later he 
 remoimted his horse, and pursued the road to 
 Wingbourne. " Carslope has no property to 
 depend on beyond the estate ; that gone, he 
 and his daughter are beggars. I feared he 
 might have some trifle remaining ; but 
 Thurston's improvidence and his own have 
 secured me from that."
 
 248 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE, 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 FINESSING. 
 
 Ellekslie did not base bis opinions entirely 
 on tbe old steward's observations, nor from 
 bis own too bastily ; yet, during tbe next two 
 days, be saw enougb to convince bim tbat 
 Wyvil and Florence were fairly in love, and 
 tbat bis own arrival, if, indeed, tbere was yet 
 time to win ber beart, bad been none too soon. 
 Still be did not actually despair — be trusted 
 tbat by removing Antony, were it only for tbe 
 space of a few montbs, tbe favourable impres-
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 249 
 
 sion might have time to die out; that Florence 
 would forget him, and the young man, im- 
 mersed in the business and enjoyments of a 
 London life, to him entirely new, would think 
 no more of her. 
 
 Nothing in the friendly suavity of his man- 
 ner led Antony to suspect the treacherous de- 
 signs he nursed against his peace. Though Mr. 
 Carslope would now and then have deferred 
 to his opinion concerning the management of 
 the estate, he declined all interference, made 
 none but complimentary observations thereon, 
 and seemed thoroughly to accept Wyvil's 
 position as Mr. Carslope's right hand. But 
 on the fourth day after his arrival, he sought 
 that gentleman, and found him alone. 
 
 It was not EUerslie's habit to use much 
 circumlocution in talking to a man for whom 
 he had so little respect as for Mr. Carslope, 
 and in the present instance he went boldly to 
 his point at once. 
 
 " Carslope, if you want a friend's opinion, 
 you are doing unadvisedly to my mind in keep- 
 
 M 5
 
 250 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 ing tliis young man in tins half-way position 
 between a guest and a hired servant. What 
 are your intentions with regard to him ?" 
 
 " Intentions ? I haven't made any, 
 Ellerslie.'^ 
 
 '' Things can't go on as they are for ever," 
 said his uncompromising cousin. " This 
 young man has got his own profession to fol- 
 low. You have kept him away from it for 
 four months without offering him any equiva- 
 lent for the loss of his time." 
 
 *' You would not have had me give him 
 money, Ellerslie. A lad in his position ?" 
 
 " Of course you cannot, and therefore you 
 should have been even more careful. What 
 he learns here will be of no use to him in his 
 future life as a London barrister, nor help him 
 on circuit, nor has he by his antecedents or 
 education any of the sort of knowledge which 
 would make him useful to you, I should 
 imagine." 
 
 " Well enough," said Mr. Carslope, '^ and I 
 have not trusted to him entirely. He has
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 251 
 
 done nothing but take my orders and transmit 
 them to Wallis, and he really has made him- 
 self extremely useful. I have not the health 
 to see after those things myself, Ellerslie, and 
 you were away, and when Wallis was taken 
 ill I had no one to trust to but him." 
 
 " Well, that necessity has gone by," said 
 Ellerslie ; " I am here, and should have come 
 long ago had I known you were in want of 
 help. You could have Written to me any time. 
 And now the matter stands, what do you mean 
 to do with him ?" 
 
 " I mean nothing," said Mr. Carslope, with 
 peevish irritation, " I am not always forming 
 plans as you are ; there is no use in it, that [ 
 can see. Let things take their course. They 
 will do as well for you and me as if we 
 plagued our heads with them." 
 
 " Things must not take their course, Car- 
 slope — at least not without your being fully 
 prepared for the consequences. What do you 
 think will be the end of keeping Wy vil here ? 
 He is young and good-looking, and Florence
 
 252 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 is little more than twenty, and has seen very 
 few men in her life. Do you mean them to 
 like each other and marry ? because, if you do, 
 acknowledge it at once, and keep him not as 
 your unpaid bailiff, but as your future son-in- 
 law." 
 
 ^' Upon my word, Ellerslie, you are too 
 hasty for me," said poor Mr. Carslope, " I have 
 had no intention of the sort. I daresay it will 
 be as you say, and they will in time like each 
 other, but there is no need to forestall matters 
 of that sort." 
 
 " But there is to foresee them," said Ellerslie, 
 perseveringly, " enough at the very least to be 
 sure of your own reply when Wyvil asks you 
 for your daughter. Do you mean to give her 
 to him?" 
 
 " I mean to let her follow her own inclina- 
 tions this time," said Mr. Carslope, with the 
 gleam of courage which Ellerslie's pitiless 
 cross-examinations sometimes elicited. " I 
 have had enough of controlling her and 
 making her do my wish and not her own. If
 
 THE MASTKR OF WINGBOURNE. 253 
 
 Heaven had not willed it otherwise, she would 
 have been Godfrey\s wife by this time ; that 
 had to be, and I could not draw back, and 
 you knew of it, Ellerslie, for years. And I 
 told Antony not to think of her on that ac- 
 count, and like an honourable lad he obeyed 
 me. But now she^s free again, and may 
 choose where she will and whom she will, 
 and I shall not interfere except to give her my 
 blessing, and see the estate fairly tied upon 
 her as it was on her mother before her.'' 
 
 " But you have your preferences, of course, 
 where her choice should alight," said 
 Ellerslie. 
 
 '' I wash my hands of it entirely, I tell you, 
 cousin. I have no wish to influence her one 
 way or another, — and now let's leave the 
 subject.'' 
 
 " But you are influencing her, and the sub- 
 ject is n:^t half finished,'' pursued Ellerslie, 
 remorselessly indifterent to the Master of 
 Wingbourne's evident anxiety to be rid of 
 him. " If you allow Wyvil to stay here to the
 
 254 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 utter exclusion of all other visitors, you are 
 controlling your daughter's inclinations as 
 much as if you forced her to marry him. 
 Florence cannot be insensible, though you 
 may be, to the consequences of seeing him 
 every day." 
 
 '' Well, then let her take him, for goodness 
 sake ! and I am content," and stooping down, 
 he took the tongs up, and began to re-arrange 
 the fire, making as much noise as possible in 
 desperation at Ellerslie's persistency on a most 
 unwelcome topic ; but he could only delay, not 
 put an end to it. 
 
 " Why not sa}^ at once you wish her to love 
 him ? It comes to the same thing/' 
 
 " Because I have no wishes, I tell you, but 
 that Florence should please herself. When I 
 asked him to stay, I thought of nothing be- 
 yond the comfort of having a pleasant com- 
 panion in the evenings, and an efficient help 
 for Wallis ; but if more comes of it, I have no 
 objection." 
 
 '' At last I understand you," said EUerslie;
 
 THE MASTER OF WTXGBOURNE. 255 
 
 '' you might have said this sooner. And now- 
 let me ask you whether you think he is as 
 good a husband for your daughter, I mean with 
 as good a fortune, as she has a right to ex- 
 pect ?" 
 
 " I have no reason to think otherwise,'' 
 said Mr. Carslope, once more with some com- 
 placency, for on this point he had no anticipa- 
 tion of being proved wrong. 
 
 '^ You had better be sure before you allow 
 Florence to pledge herself beyond recall," 
 said his censor, composedly. " Suppose that 
 he really is all he seems to be. What have you, 
 then after all ? A young man — too young, in- 
 deed, to settle properly in life just yet — of no 
 family that is known here and no connections 
 among your neighbours where your daughter 
 might naturally look for her friends, and his 
 property is, though fair, not adequate to your 
 daughter's expectations." 
 
 "lie has more than you think, EUerslie; 
 his father died tolerably well off, and he had
 
 256 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 the chief part of it. I have never exactly in- 
 quired, but — '' 
 
 " But I have," interrupted Ellerslie, " and 
 moreover I think it will be fortunate for him if 
 there do not turn out to be some liabilities of 
 his father's, which his fortune will be called 
 upon to defray. I did not give the matter 
 any consideration before, but if he is to be 
 your son-in-law, it becomes important." 
 
 " It might be to others, but not to me," said 
 Mr. Carslope, who, like a losing chess player, 
 had been driven from square to square, and 
 was now trying to entrench himself at the 
 edge of the board. " I shall think none the 
 worse of him, even if he has considerable losses. 
 Florence has enough for both. Happiness 
 does not consist in heaping up money, and I 
 need give an account to nobody, who she 
 marries or how many thousands he can settle 
 on her." 
 
 '' I will not say you are mistaken," said 
 Ellerslie, "but your conduct is undergoing
 
 THE MASTi.R OF WINGBOURNE. 257 
 
 far more scrutiny, and it luay be, censure, 
 than you are aware of. Everyone round 
 about us is talking of how you are placing 
 your house and daughter at the disposal of an 
 unknown adventurer. 1 would not alarm you 
 unnecessarily, Carslope, so I said nothing of 
 this till now that you have told me you are 
 determined she shall accept Wyvil." 
 
 " I never said that — T am not determined 
 either way,'' exclaimed Mr. Carslope, but 
 Ellerslie paid him no attention, 
 
 " I cannot think it right for my part that 
 you should be left in ignorance of what people 
 say concerning you. I saw Solly, your 
 lawyer, a few days since. He talked of your 
 affairs, of course. It is a general opinion that, 
 although so long as your daughter married 
 Godfrey it was all right, and the estate would 
 remain in her hands unquestioned, yet, that 
 if a stranger was preferred, there were doubt- 
 ful points in her grandfather's will on which 
 the heir-at-law might found a claim." 
 
 " Solly never told you that, Ellerslie !"
 
 258 THE MASTER OF WTNGBOURNE. 
 
 ^' I did not say that he did/' said Ellerslie, 
 coolly. '' Of course, as your lawyer, he could 
 hardly make such admissions. But people 
 say what I have been telling you. Family 
 matters will be discussed, you know, by those 
 who take an interest in them." 
 
 " There is no one to take an interest in 
 them except you, who are the heir-at-law.'' 
 
 " That is possible. You are more logical 
 than I thought you." 
 
 ''And what difference can it make in 
 Florence's right to enjoy Win gbourne unques- 
 tioned, whether Godfrey is alive or not?" pur- 
 sued Mr. Garslope, darting a reproachful 
 glance at his kinsman. Ellerslie endured it 
 with unrufled composure, bestowing on him in 
 return a steady, scrutinising look before which 
 the Master of Wingbourne moved uneasily in 
 his chair. 
 
 " Nay, you know more about the nature of 
 her rights than I do," said Ellerslie, after a 
 pause ; "I care for Florence and not her 
 estate. But let us suppose this claim un-
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 5^59 
 
 fonnded, of which we spoke, and that all went 
 well ; that Wyvil only loses a part of his in- 
 come, that he marries Florence, and gives up 
 his profession to settle here. Is it, as far as 
 you can judge, the kindest service you can do 
 the youth to let their engagement and mar- 
 riage occur so speedily ? Is it the happiest 
 position for a man to have no property but 
 what his wife gives him, no profession but 
 that of managing her estate, no consideration 
 that is honestly won by himself?" 
 
 Mr. Carslope only fidgetted uncomfortably. 
 
 '^ I like the lad, Ellerslie," he said, at 
 length. " I like him for his own sake as 
 well as his father's ; I wish to benefit him." 
 
 " I am sure you do, but not at your 
 daughter's expense. I have hitherto only 
 spoken of Wyvil, but what do you think will 
 be Florence's feelings if in future years she 
 believes she was hurried, persuaded into this 
 marriage, by a man whose love for her is 
 chiefly for her fortune." 
 
 *' He is not mercenary, cousin ; I'll lay my
 
 260 THE ]vfast]:r of wingbourne. 
 
 life he loves her truly and honestly for her- 
 self, and would if she had not a farthing." 
 
 "Yes," said Ellerslie, smiling bitterly, 
 ' you were very prompt to accuse me, who 
 am your own wife's relation, of mercenary 
 views, but you can give bail for a youth 
 whom you never saw before a few months 
 back. However, let that pass. For his sake 
 as well as hers, and to try the sincerity of 
 their liking before you hurry them into irre- 
 vocable vows, he ought to go to London for 
 awhile to begin his studies." 
 
 Mr. Carslope looked unwilling, but he was 
 not accustomed to withstand a cool persistent 
 attack so long; and a very few more words 
 sufficed to make him yield. 
 
 " Perhaps it is better he should go," he 
 said, reluctantly. '' What ought I to do ?" 
 
 " This, nothing else. Tell him that you 
 feel you ought not to have delayed him so 
 long from his studies by what can prove of 
 no service to him ; that you think, great as 
 the deprivation to yourself will be, you must
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 2^1 
 
 not ask him to stay longer. Say that you 
 shall always feel great interest in his doings, 
 and would like to hear occasionally from 
 him, and if you want to gild the bitter pill, 
 give him a prospective invitation for a month 
 next summer/' 
 
 " Of course I shall do that,'' said Mr. 
 Carslope, plaintively ; "but he will think it 
 so strange from me. Could not you tell him 
 this ? You may use my name as freely as 
 you like. I give you full liberty to say — " 
 
 "Not I," interrupted Ellerslie. ''I am 
 not master of the house. It must come from 
 you." 
 
 Mr. Carslope sighed and said, 
 
 " Well, I'll do it some day ; but he will 
 feel it greatly." 
 
 " The sooner the better," said Ellerslie. 
 " Tell him at once. He can then ^^l his own 
 day for going. Here he comes ; and, Cars- 
 lope, remember one thing," and he laid his 
 hand impressively on that gentleman's arm, 
 and added in a suppressed voice, " if he asks
 
 262 THE MASTER OF WIKGBGURNE. 
 
 for permission to address Florence, tell liiin 
 lie must win a position for her, first ; it will 
 be an incentive to his studies," he added, 
 with such an odd smile that Mr. Carslope 
 felt more compunctious and sorry for Wy vil 
 than before. 
 
 The door opened, but Ellerslie was stand- 
 ing by the window watching the driving 
 scud, and the dead leaves, as they sped past 
 on the November gusts ; and Antony was all 
 unsuspicious of his coming fate. 
 
 He had been out for some hours on the 
 farm, and he now came in to give his report. 
 
 " I've been speaking to Wallis about that 
 offer for the lambs, sir, and he advises you to 
 take it. He says sixteen shillings is a fair 
 price, taking the lot together, and that the 
 winter promises to be a hard one ; and they 
 will cost you all the difference in keep if you 
 put off selling them till the spring.'* 
 
 " I believe he is wrong," said Mr. Carslope, 
 pettishly. " For my part I think it is going 
 to be an open winter, and the stock might
 
 THE MASTliK OF WINGBOURNE. 263 
 
 very generally find themselves. What is your 
 opinion, Antony ?" 
 
 " I ani hardly a judge/' said Wyvil ; "but 
 I have heard you say very often that Wallis 
 had a good eye for the weather/' 
 
 " And so I may have done, and yet think 
 him wrong now. Unless I could consult my- 
 self with my bailiff, how can I tell which is 
 best ? It is unfortunate for us all, Antony, 
 that your father did not intend you for a 
 farmer, and make you learn something to the 
 purpose early. You are too old to take it up 
 now properly." 
 
 '^ It does not seem to me so difficult, but 
 that may be owing to my ignorance," said 
 Wyvil, laughing. " T am afraid, however, 
 you might easily have found a more efficient 
 under-bailiff than I am/' 
 
 " I think so, myself," said Mr. Carslope ; 
 and he looked imploringly at Ellerslie to in- 
 duce him to come forward, and take on him- 
 self the unpleasant task of telling their guest 
 he was no longer wanted, but Ellerslie's face
 
 264 THE MASTER OF WIKGBOURNE. 
 
 was turned resolutely away, and he gave no 
 hope of attending to the signal. '^ You have 
 done your best, your very best, Antony,'' 
 continued the poor gentleman, " and I am 
 much obliged to you for it ; but I am not doing 
 rightly by you, seeing that you are intended 
 for the bar, in keeping you so long doing my 
 business instead of your own. It is not as I 
 would wish a son of mine to be treated in 
 similar circumstances, and I owe it to your 
 father not to stand in your way any longer. '^ 
 
 Antony looked somewhat surprised, but 
 answered that he had always intended taking 
 a few months' holiday before settling to his 
 reading, and he thought they could not be 
 better employed than in being even of slight 
 service to so kind a friend. 
 
 " There is reason in that — there is indeed," 
 said Mr. Carslope with another petitioning 
 glance at the immoveable figure in the win- 
 dow ; " and you have been of service. I do 
 not know what I should have done without 
 you on that sad week in August, and I shall
 
 THE MASTER OF WTNGBOURNE. 265 
 
 be very sorry to lose you with my poor 
 health, and Wallis still incapacitated . . ^' 
 
 " Then I am sure I have no desire to begin 
 my studies at once/' said Antony, eagerly. 
 '^ I am perfectly master of my own time. My 
 father only indicated the bar; but I am quite 
 free to give as much or as little time to it as 
 I like." 
 
 '' That is not all, Antony," began Mr. 
 Carslope, and then broke off. " Confound 
 you, Ellerslie ! can't you help me, and tell the 
 boy what we have been talking of, and how 
 it's to his advantage to leave us?" 
 
 Ellerslie, however much astonished at this 
 open appeal, proved himself quite equal to 
 the occasion. 
 
 "Mr. Carslope thinks," he said, without 
 stirring from the window, but turning round 
 so as to face his embarrassed and indignant 
 listener, " that you, Mr. Wyvil, are, with the 
 best intentions, wasting your time here. You 
 have been his guest for more than four 
 months, and your studies, of which farming 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 forms no part, lie idle the whilst. He is 
 very much obliged to you for the help you 
 have given him, but will have no further 
 need of it, as I shall be staying with him till 
 his bailiff has recovered ; and he thinks that 
 for the mere pleasure of your society he is not 
 justified in detaining you." 
 
 " Say no more, sir,'' interrupted Wyvil, 
 haughtily. " I am sorry I did not perceive 
 sooner I was unwelcome. Had I guessed it, 
 my own affairs would certainly have claimed 
 my attention long ago. I shall not trouble 
 you beyond a day further." 
 
 Ellerslie made no reply ; he appeared to 
 consider the matter as disposed of satisfac- 
 torily, but Mr. Carslope exclaimed eagerly, 
 
 " Now we have offended you ! I feared we 
 should, Antony. You must not believe that 
 you are unwelcome. I am very grieved to 
 advise you to go. It will be my own loss 
 more than yours — I shall be so lonely. You 
 must not take offence.'' 
 
 ''I do not, sir," said Wyvil, though still
 
 THE MASTER OE WIXGB^UKNE. 267 
 
 colouring with resentment; "I ought to have 
 known that my visit was of an unconscion- 
 able length. That T did not, you must forgive 
 me. You will remember that I had fixed my 
 own departure early in August.'' 
 
 " And it was I who asked you to stay. I 
 do remember — it was all my fault," pursued 
 the penitent host. '' But you must not con- 
 sider this as any signal for parting. We must 
 keep you till over Christmas ; we must in- 
 deed, and then you must come to us early in 
 the spring. What shall I do for a game of 
 billiards without you?'' 
 
 '' Mr. Ellerslie will supply my place ; I 
 must not, indeed, intrude longer than one other 
 day," said Wyvil. " But Mr. Carslope, as I 
 may not have another opportunity of speak- 
 ing to you, may I ask you to give me your 
 attention now to something important I want 
 to say." 
 
 '' Certainly, of course. I shall be happy 
 to do anything I can to oblige you," cried 
 Mr. Carslope, eager to make amends for past 
 
 N 2
 
 268 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 discourtesy. " Tell me at once what it is ; I 
 will do anything in my power.' ^ 
 
 " I should wish to be alone if you have no 
 objection to come into the next room/' said 
 Wyvil, looking at EUerslie. 
 
 " I will release you of my presence/' said 
 EUerslie, coldly. " Is Florence in the 
 the library, Carslope ? I shall join her /' and 
 passing his friend, he gave him such a look of 
 admonitory import, that Mr. Carslope repeated 
 uneasily, 
 
 " Anything in my power, I said, Antony. 
 There are a good many things a man can't 
 command, you know." 
 
 " This is quite in your power," said Antony ; 
 and as soon as the door closed behind EUers- 
 lie, he told him without further preamble of 
 his love for his daughter, and requested his 
 permission to address her. 
 
 Mr. Carslope was in a softened mood, 
 possibly weakened by the length of his wordy 
 contest with EUerslie, and impressions seldom 
 lasted long on his mind, when the author of
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 269 
 
 them was absent. Besides he was anxious 
 to make up to Wyvil for his recent un- 
 kindness; and in short, though he delayed 
 and doubted and made faint objections to the 
 proposal, he was not proof against Antony's 
 insistant and earnest pleading ; and he gave 
 his consent at last in terms as cordial as 
 though Ellerslie had not spent an hour in 
 labouring to convince him that any consent 
 would be impolitic. 
 
 " But ril have no engagement, my boy," 
 he concluded ; '' and I donH exactly authorise 
 any correspondence except through me. I 
 don't wish Florence to feel herself bound — a 
 thousand things might occur. And if you 
 would take my advice, which I suppose you 
 will not, you wouldn't speak to her before 
 you go, but leave it all to next spring. I am 
 really sorry from my heart to have to take 
 leave of you, but Ellerslie thought it was for 
 the best.'' 
 
 " I know it, sir ; I was sure that was Mr. 
 Ellerslie's opinion," said Wyvil, now con-
 
 270 THE MASTER UF WIKGBOaRNE. 
 
 firmed in his belief that Ellerslie was his 
 rival with regard to Florence, and that his 
 dismissal, for it could not be looked upon in 
 any other light, was the effect of his repre- 
 sentations. It made him all the more deter- 
 mined to have his decisive interview with 
 Florence before he went, lest in his absence, 
 unless their faith was mutually pledged, 
 Ellerslie should win some advantage. Thouo-h 
 he had as little reason to be doubtful ^f 
 Florence's answer as the lover of any inno- 
 cent, open-hearted girl, who had never learned 
 and would have scorned to practice deceit, 
 could be, yet he felt all the feverish uncer- 
 tainty and trembling hope which a true, un- 
 assuming love brings with it. He was not 
 confident in his own merits, did not think 
 that his love could repay Florence for the 
 lavish affection he should claim in return, 
 and yet, in spite of his doubts, he did believe 
 that he should succeed, and have the sweet 
 consciousness of that love to sustain him 
 through the impending interval of separation.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 271 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ILL TIDINGS. 
 
 Wyvil resolved to speak to her that very night. 
 He could not have long to wait for an oppor- 
 tunity ; Mr. Carslope must be left that even- 
 ing to the unrestrained enjoyment of his wine, 
 in which Ellerslie must, out of politeness, 
 keep him company, and he himself would 
 steal away to Florence, and learn his fate 
 before the others left the table. 
 
 But this plan was frustrated. 
 
 " Mr. \\'yvil,'* said Ellerslie, as they met
 
 272 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 at dinner, " I have to apologize to you for 
 breaking the seal of a letter of yours. It 
 came while you were out on your ride, and 
 was taken up to my room, and I never looked 
 at the direction till it was too late, and I saw 
 the name inside." 
 
 " It does not signify at all," said Wyvil. 
 "Where is the letter ?" 
 
 "I gave it to Nichols to take to you. I 
 supposed he had placed it upon your table." 
 
 "I missed it then," said Antony, and 
 Nichols went to fetch it for him. 
 
 Antony glanced at the letter. It was from 
 a business correspondent of his father's, he 
 knew by the handwriting, and he put it away 
 in bis pocket to read when he should be alone. 
 Ellerslie, who had, in his unintentional open- 
 ing of the letter, seen rather more than he 
 cared to confess, glanced curiously at him to 
 see how the contents affected him. He was 
 aware that the news was unpleasant and that 
 it might have serious consequences for the 
 young man, and he had known this all the
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 273 
 
 time he was arguing with Mr. Carslope that 
 afternoon, though he had touched on it but 
 slightly. Unscrupulous as Ellerslie was as 
 to the means he used or the assertions he 
 made to gain his ends, he had too much of his 
 old, gentlemanly feeling left to have pryed 
 deliberately into another's correspondence. 
 The mistake of opening the letter had been 
 genuine, as he assured Wyvil, though once 
 open his eye had glanced at it a moment 
 longer than was necessary to discover the 
 rightful superscription, and the recollection 
 of this was more painful to him than all the 
 misrepresentations he had made to Mr . Cars- 
 lope and the agent. 
 
 Wyvil profited by his liberty from the 
 dining-room to read his letter, instead of at 
 once proceeding to join Florence. It was 
 certainly unpleasant. His correspondent 
 wrote him word that a firm in which a large 
 portion of his father's property was invested 
 was supposed to have overstrained their 
 credit, and to be in a perilous position. The 
 
 N 5
 
 274 THE MASTER OF WINQBOURNE. 
 
 news, he said, he trusted was not true, but if 
 it were it would considerably affect the pro- 
 perty of the late Mr. Wyvil. The large sum 
 in the hands of the tottering firm had been 
 assigned to Antony in the division of his 
 father's estate, but his correspondent suggested 
 that as the shaking firm might possibly have 
 been insolvent for some considerable time, 
 this arrangement ought to be revised, and 
 the possible loss as attaching to the late Mr. 
 Wyvil's estate, should, in equity, be equally 
 shared between Antony and his sister. There 
 was, he concluded, no good in calling the 
 sum in, or pressing the firm too hard, as it 
 might only accelerate their ruin, and if com- 
 pelled to pa} now, it would only be a few 
 shilh'ngs in the pound, whereas the matter 
 might afterwards be more satisfactorily 
 arranged. 
 
 Antony read the letter with extreme con- 
 cern. It was evident to him that the writer 
 wrote in a more hopeful strain than the facts 
 of the case warranted, and he could not
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 275 
 
 admit for one moment the suggestion that 
 the loss to himself, individuallj, might be 
 lightened by his sister's sharing it with him. 
 Her portion had, unfairly, been less than his, 
 and she was married to a comparatively poor 
 man, and had already two or three children. 
 The loss must be sustained by himself alone. 
 He was a man, young, and with no claims 
 upon him ; but the news made the prosecu- 
 tion of his law studies, which he had hitherto 
 considered optional, now imperative. This of 
 itself was little, for Antony had never been of 
 a disposition to shirk work ; but there was a 
 darker side still to this picture. With this 
 evil impending over his prospects, he must 
 leave Wingbourne without having his expla- 
 nation with Florence ; he could not, in hon- 
 our, ask her for her heart when he did not 
 know whether he should be a ruined man or 
 not. He was ignorant that Mr. Carslope had 
 already received a hint of possible losses, and 
 had still been willing to accept him ; and this 
 cruel necessity of parting in silence from her
 
 276 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 without knowing whether she loved him or 
 not, was to him far more difficult to bear than 
 the gloomy uncertainty which overhung his 
 fortunes. 
 
 Could Ellerslie have foreseen how he would 
 have acted on the receipt of the letter, he 
 might have spared himself much of the 
 trouble he had had in dismissing him ; but 
 he had not given Wy vil credit for the honour- 
 ableness which was his due. Throughout 
 that evenino: he watched both him and 
 Florence attentively to discover whether any 
 declaration had taken place ; but Florence 
 looked cheerful and unembarrassed, and 
 Antony's preoccupied and somewhat dejected 
 brow did not give the impression of one who 
 had come to a good understanding with his 
 mistress. Ellerslie, therefore, concluded all 
 was safe, and exerted himself to be more than 
 usually cordial, satisfied that he had fairly 
 speeded the parting guest. 
 
 Tlie parting the next day was not made 
 easier to Wyvil by Mr. Carslope presenting
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 277 
 
 him with the beautiful bay hunter, which had 
 once been poor Godfrey's especial favourite. 
 The good gentleman said it was a sign of his 
 unfailing esteem and attachment; but to 
 Antony's over-wrought sensitiveness, it bore 
 too much the air of a compensation offered 
 for services performed ; and in his depressed 
 and irritable mood, he said to himself it was 
 a useless and expensive present to a man 
 about to live in London, who was not very 
 sure he would have the wherewithal to sup- 
 port himself. But the offer was so urgently 
 made that he could not refuse it, though an 
 arrangement was finally entered into that the 
 animal should be kept in the Wingbourne 
 stables until its accommodation was prepared 
 in town, whither it was then to proceed by 
 easy stages under the care ,of one of Mr. 
 Carslope's grooms. 
 
 This settled, Antony left 'Wingbourne, not 
 to go at once to London, but to Caernarvon. 
 He had heard from the lawyer he had met 
 at Southampton, Mr. Crowe, that that gentle-
 
 278 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 man was still staying in Wales, and remem- 
 bered that he had mentioned being acquainted 
 with one of the heads of the firm in which 
 Wyvil's money was invested. He was, there- 
 fore, desirous of seeing Mr. Crowe, and con- 
 sulting him on the probability of its weather- 
 ing through its present misfortunes. 
 
 There were no signs of tears in Florence's 
 bright eyes till he had absolutely disappeared 
 beyond the sunk fence. She had heard, with 
 grieved surprise, the night before, of his in- 
 tended departure, but her father, who told 
 her the news, hastened to add the comforting 
 item that he would probably return in the 
 spring, and on this her mind had dwelt for 
 comfort, and she endured the actual parting 
 with far more composure than Antony was 
 master of. 
 
 "You will come again to us in the spring,'* 
 she said, " and you must not quite forget us 
 while you are away." 
 
 " Forget you !" exclaimed Wyvil, adding 
 in a lower tone as he took her hand, " You
 
 THE ^fASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 279 
 
 know, Florence, that I can never forget you 
 while I have life." 
 
 " Flo', dear, the gig is waiting for Mr, 
 Wyvil," called her father, and Antony drop- 
 ped the little hand he held, after lifting it to 
 his lips, and imprinting a hasty kiss upon it, 
 which Florence's nerves thrilled to for an 
 hour afterwards. She ran to the hall door 
 and watched him drive off with glowing 
 cheeks, for those few last words had been the 
 first audible assurance of what had been 
 dumbly in her consciousness for many weeks, 
 and awakened a passionate response in her 
 own heart. She looked after him till he v^as 
 out of sight, and then dashing her hand across 
 her eyes^ turned away with a sigh to join her 
 father, and saw Ellerslie looking fixedly 
 at her. 
 
 There was no harshness, or even want of 
 affection in his gaze, but it struck chilly on 
 her, and made her feel far more than the actual 
 driving off of the gig had done, that Antony 
 was gone, and the dream of happiness which
 
 280 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUKNE. 
 
 had lasted so many days and weeks, Tvas over. 
 A sense of oppression, as of future evil, came 
 over her as she passed him without speaking, 
 and walked back into the house, which now 
 seemed lonelier and emptier to her than it had 
 ever seemed before. Her father saw that 
 she was absent and depressed, and began 
 talking of Wyvil, and his journey, and his 
 future visit the next year ; but this could not 
 cheer her. She wanted solitude for awhile, 
 and as soon as she saw he was beginning to 
 doze, she walked to the library and tried to 
 amuse herself with a book there. But the 
 shelves had undergone a change, and nu- 
 merous gay and modern bindings, ordered for 
 her during the past autumn by Wyvil, re- 
 minded her of what Antony had been to 
 jier, and what he could no longer be for 
 many a month to come ; and in the first book 
 she took down, the sight of the pages which 
 he had read with her recalled his voice as 
 vividly as if he were then standing beside 
 her.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 281 
 
 " Oh," she thought, " if the spring were 
 but come." If lie had only promised to write 
 to her ; but he said nothing of writing, and 
 he looked so unhappy. He would be away 
 for six long, dreary months — gone to Lon- 
 don, where he would find so much to think 
 of. Would he remember her and return to 
 give her all the affection which those last 
 words and the look which went with them 
 promised, or would he forget her and leave 
 her alone with only the memory of those few 
 months' happiness? 
 
 She burst into bitter weeping as this possi- 
 bility came before her, and laying down her 
 head on the open book, abandoned herself to 
 the grief it awakened, and to the tender 
 memories of the hours of contentment they 
 had spent together, which might never be 
 repeated. 
 
 She was startled by a slight movement in 
 the room, and raising her head saw Ellerslie. 
 He was watching her with a troubled, dis- 
 satisfied expression.
 
 282 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 " Are those tears a tribute to our departed 
 guest, Florence?" he asked, in a voice which 
 sounded to her ears harsh and dissonant, but 
 which was only the expression of his own 
 mortification. 
 
 " When did you come in ? How you have 
 startled me," exclaimed Florence, hastily 
 brushing away the tears. 
 
 " I am sorry for that,'' he added, more 
 gently ; and sitting down beside her, he 
 added, '' I should wish never to startle you, 
 Florence. Come, tell me, cousin, — you will 
 let me call you cousin, will you not ? It is 
 a name you are used to.'' 
 
 '' But for that reason, it ought to be reserved 
 to the one whose right it used to be to call it 
 me," she answered. " Godfrey was my only 
 real cousin — you are none, Ellerslie. Call 
 me Florence, as you always did when I was 
 a child. I can remember the time when I 
 used to take your hand, and go with you to 
 see the horses, or ride on your shoulder into 
 the fruit garden, and you let me pick as many
 
 THE .MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 283 
 
 cherries as I could reach. That was before 
 you used to live so very much by yourself at 
 Llanfydd, and were oftener with us — v^hilst 
 mamma was alive. I was quite a little thing, 
 but you were a tall man then, EUerslie, look- 
 ing almost as old as you do now.'' 
 
 " I have not changed," said Ellerslie, who 
 did not particularly relish her allusion to 
 their disparity in age ; " not changed, except 
 in appreciation of you, Florence. I used to 
 think you a trouble, and now — '' 
 
 " And now," said Florence, playfully, 
 '' you would think me a trouble again, if I 
 were to do anything to annoy you." 
 
 '' I hope you will not try. T am more 
 hasty-tempered than I like to think of some- 
 times," and the half smile with which 
 Ellerslie had began to speak, faded away. 
 For a minute he seemed pre-occupied, and 
 then said, ^' Florence, tell me ; were you 
 thinking of Antony Wyvil when I came in?'' 
 
 " I don't think you have any right to ask, 
 Ellerslie."
 
 284 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUKNE. 
 
 '' Yes I have, because I love jou — love 
 you so well that my only happiness is in 
 seeing yours. Were you crying for him, 
 Florence? You cannot deny it." 
 
 "Parting from friends is always a sad 
 thing," said Florence, colouring with con- 
 fusion and annoyance at having been found 
 in tears. She rose, and the volume she had 
 held in her lap fell to the ground. EUerslie 
 picked it up, recognised it as one he had 
 seen in Wyvil's hands, and silently put it 
 back on the book shelves. 
 
 '' You think it sad, '' he resumed, " even 
 though you think it is a parting for onl_y a 
 short time. What would you say or feel if 
 I told you it is not likely he will ever re- 
 turn?" 
 
 Florence started, and looked eager and 
 questioning. 
 
 " You know something about him,'' she 
 cried. " You know why he went. You are 
 keeping something from me."' 
 
 " No, I am concealing nothing, " said
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 285 
 
 Ellerslie ; " I tliink he means to come back 
 at present. I am sure he does, if he told you 
 he would ; but you do not know London, 
 Florence. A young man must be either 
 very firm or very poor to come out of it the 
 same as he goes there. There are a thousand 
 temptations to forgetfulness surrounding him, 
 which in your quiet country life you can 
 have no idea of." 
 
 " You do him injustice to think he is in- 
 constant," said Florence, with spirit. 
 
 '' You once told me, not so long ago, I did 
 another one injustice'' said Ellerslie, gravely. 
 " Is it to be always my fate to have to tell 
 you truth about those you love?" He paused; 
 he had made the allusion to Godfrey pur- 
 posely, for he meant if possible to awaken 
 her past tenderness for her cousin, calculat- 
 ing that he should best fight the new love 
 by reverting to the old. He was not afraid 
 of a dead rival standing in his way. 
 
 Florence drooped her face upon her hands 
 and made no answer, and he went on.
 
 286 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUKNE. 
 
 " Whatever else I thought of your cousin 
 Godfrey, I never thought he was inconstant. 
 I am sure he loved you to the full extent of 
 his capabilities ; but, my dear child, I do 
 not think Wyvil does. 1 think it is a fancy 
 he now feels for you, which will pass away 
 with absence and temptation. His nature is 
 not sufficiently developed to feel a real last- 
 ing love ; you must look for that in an older 
 man. He will forget you, and it will be 
 fortunate for him that he does so ; for, Flor- 
 ence, you will not remember him.'' 
 
 " How do you know so much of me?'' said 
 Florence, looking up with her cheeks dyed 
 with blushes. " When I love once it will be 
 for always." 
 
 '^ I hope so indeed," said Ellerslie, earn- 
 estly ; " but I do not believe you have loved 
 once yet. I do not think you really loved 
 your cousin — not with the love of a wife. I 
 am sure you do not love this Wyvil." 
 
 "How dare you say so to me!" cried 
 Florence, springing up, the indignation she felt
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGHOURNE. 2S7 
 
 quivering in lier tone. " What rigKt have 
 you to speak in this way !'' 
 
 " Because vrhen you do love," continued 
 Ellerslie, unheeding her anger, " it will be 
 some one worthy of you — who can give you 
 a love worth having in exchange — who can 
 wait patiently and keep loving on, so that he 
 be but sure of you at last. For such a one 
 you were meant — not for any one inferior. 
 Don^t interrupt me. I will not press you for 
 an answer now, but I will be heard. I am 
 that one — 1 love you more than my life, 
 Florence. I believe that you will return it, 
 if you do not now. I am sure that you will 
 be my wife sooner or later, when you have 
 thought over and estimated what other fancies 
 are worth." 
 
 " Ellerslie ! be still. I will not hear it. I 
 told you so before !" she interrupted him pas- 
 sionately, and he paused. 
 
 " I will give you time to think of it,'' he 
 said, after a moment's silence. " I will not
 
 288 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 speak to you of it till you have had time. 
 I give you a week. No, not one word in 
 reply; I cannot bear it. I will leave you 
 now.*^
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 289 
 
 CHAPTER XY, 
 
 ox TRIAL. 
 
 Florence had been accustomed through the 
 course of her young life, if not to a very in- 
 tellectual, to a more devoted and submissive 
 love than that with which Ellerslie now 
 threatened her, and when he left her, she re- 
 mained half-bewildered at his impetuosity, 
 half indignant at the little deference he had 
 paid her. Had it been any other than Eller- 
 slie who had so spoken to her, anger would 
 have been the predominant feeling ; but 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 290 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 Ellerslie was a privileged person. He had 
 always been regarded at Wingbourne as one, 
 who, if not of different clay to themselves, 
 was at least not amenable to the same rules, 
 and his opinion had been law, and his wishes 
 consulted, ever since she could remember. 
 She had never been present during any of 
 Ellerslie's contemptuous altercations with 
 her father, but she had heard enough to know 
 that Mr. Carslope held him in great deference 
 and was even, for some unknown reason, a 
 little afraid of him. But if this general re- 
 spect for him tended to lessen her anger, her 
 astonishment was only the greater. In this, 
 as on a former occasion, the day of Godfrey's 
 death, Ellerslie, the self-possessed, superior, 
 though somewhat egotistical, elder cousin had 
 completely changed; now imploring, now 
 commanding, her whom until recently he 
 had seemed to care very little about. Was 
 it true, she wondered, that he did love her ? 
 Tf so, he showed it in a very different way to 
 either Antony or Godfrey. Godfrey had never
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 291 
 
 gone into these transports of fury which al- 
 most frightened her, and Antony . . . but 
 perhaps it was true that Antony did not love 
 her. Ellerslie said he did not, and Ellerslie 
 knew the world far more than she did ; but 
 yet he might be mistaken, and in the hope 
 that he was, she recovered her composure, 
 and effacing as far as possible all traces of her 
 tears, went to join her father. 
 
 But though she would fain have forgotten 
 Ellerslie' s declaration of love, she found it 
 impossible to do so. He kept his word, and 
 did not again speak to her of it, but when he 
 was with her, there was a tacit deference to 
 her wishes, and a quiet observance of her 
 which she had never noticed in him. He 
 formerly sat abstracted for an hour over a 
 newspaper, unconscious if she were in the 
 same room, but now he never seemed to have 
 his eye off her. She was conscious of an 
 effort on his part to please her, to make him- 
 self amiable and her at ease, but yet she 
 could not get over the impression that 
 
 2
 
 292 THE MASTEJl OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 whether she would or no, he considered her 
 on a week's probation, and would call her to 
 account on the stipulated day. 
 
 The constraint on her feelings became in- 
 tolerable, and when, on the seventh day after 
 Antony's departure, he entered the room 
 where she was sitting, and approached her 
 with the air of one ready for a long confer- 
 ence, she rose from her cbair, and, too 
 nervous to wait till he had spoken, said — 
 
 " I hope you are not coming to say those 
 things over again, Ellerslie, for 1 do not want 
 to listen to them." 
 
 '' I gave you this week to consider on what 
 I told you, '' was EUerslie's answer. '' Do 
 you want me to repeat to you how much I 
 love you, Florence ? that you are the first — 
 the only woman I have seen to care for, that 
 you might make my happiness as surely as I 
 will make yours, if you will trust me? Can 
 you not give me some return ? I don't ask 
 for much, Florence," he added, hastily, as 
 he saw her varying colour. " A year or two
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUKNK. 293 
 
 hence jou will feel it more. Only tell me 
 now that you will in time learn to love me, 
 that you may in future give your consent to 
 our union, and I will be content." 
 
 " But I cannot say so, EUerslie ; I have 
 always thought of you in such a different 
 way. This is so new and strange. Since when 
 have you wanted me to love you, or thought 
 of marrying me ?" 
 
 " Whether it be long or lately, I want it 
 now, Florence, and shall wish it till I die. 
 Don't you think, dear, you could learn to like 
 me? Have I made myself too disagreeable 
 to you and those you love better, in days long 
 gone by ?'* 
 
 " Oh, it is not that — it is not that,'' said 
 Florence, " but you don't know how you dis- 
 tress me. I like you ; I will try to like you 
 very much as a friend, but anything more I 
 cannot ! I have been miserable all this last 
 week, since you first spoke to me. Does my 
 father know what you want ?" 
 
 " I have never made any secret of my
 
 294 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 wishes. He leaves you quite free, he says. 
 You have no opposition to fear from him. 
 Consult your own heart, Florence '' 
 
 '' 1 do, and candidly. Ellerslie, I cannot 
 learn to think of you in another light than 
 as a friend. You make me afraid of you 
 by urging me for more. It is all too 
 sudden.'' 
 
 " You have had a whole week to consider 
 of it," said Ellerslie, looking greatly disturb-J. 
 " I will not accept that answer as final, 
 Florence. I must have one more to the pur- 
 pose. I will leave you another week — a 
 fortnight, dear, if you wish it, — to make up 
 your mind in ; but at the end of that time I 
 must have a reply. I cannot believe it will 
 be such an unfavourable one." 
 
 " Well, go now," said Florence, in restless 
 excitement; " if you knew how unhappy you 
 make me by talking as you do." 
 
 " In a fortnight, then," said Ellerslie, and 
 placing himself at the table, he began to 
 write a letter to his foreman, apprising him of
 
 THE MASTKR OF WINGBOURNE. 295 
 
 his continued absence ; to all outward seem- 
 ing, he was as calm and imperturbable as ever, 
 but his hand trembled so much with agita- 
 tion, that it was with difficulty he could 
 form a line. 
 
 Florence sat down in her former seat, try- 
 ing hard to keep back her tears ; she felt 
 more miserable than ever, in spite of the 
 relief of having silenced him for the pre- 
 sent. 
 
 " Unkind ! ungenerous !'' she repeated to 
 herself, as she took up a book, while absolute 
 silence reigned between them, till Mr. Car- 
 slope's entrance inaugurated the usual dribble 
 of small talk, which was his most intellectual 
 occupation. 
 
 As the days went by, and the first week, 
 and then the second, passed on, and the fort- 
 night drew towards its close, Florence 
 heartily repented that she had not given 
 Ellerslie so decisive a negative as must for 
 ever close his pretensions. She felt more 
 keenly than ever that she could never love
 
 296 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 him. His fits of vehemence, alternated with 
 an almost phlegmatic composm-e, perplexed 
 and frightened her. She found there was 
 something in him she could not understand, 
 and she had at times a sort of terror that she 
 was being slowly encompassed in toils which 
 she could not see, but which would none the 
 less surely bind her. His presence inspired 
 her with dread and repugnance. She felt tlie 
 exercise of some power over her, which slu 
 was at a loss to define, but which arose fi-om 
 the sort of security with which Ellerslie 
 had spoken, as if the future was in his 
 hands and not in hers. Eestless and ner- 
 vous, she now interpreted his very forbearance 
 in not pressing his suit upon her at the tiine, 
 into the effect of his firm confidence in the 
 result of his wooing ; — a confidence, not 
 elated like that of an arrogant coxcomb, who 
 fancies his attractions must prove irresistible 
 to a woman's heart, but partaking more of the 
 nature of fate. 
 
 She shunned to meet his eye as the day drew
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. ?.^7 
 
 near, for when he was by, even the air seemed 
 less fiee than of old. An undefined fear lay 
 at her heart, and with it a more defined ache, 
 for three weeks had gone by, and brought no 
 letter from Antony. She knew it would not 
 be likely that he should write to her, but he 
 might have sent a few lines to her father, to 
 show that he still remembered them. 
 
 " Perhaps,'* she thought, " the silence was 
 the first effect of the forgetfulness Ellerslie 
 had predicated, " but she had not thought 
 that it would have commenced so soon ; it 
 was strange if he had already forgotten the 
 friendly circle he had been one of for four 
 full months. She shed no tears ; but the grief 
 at her heart became all the deeper, when one 
 day Mr. Carslope said, 
 
 " Antony does not write ; I suppose he is 
 in London by this time." 
 
 " Possibly still staying at Caernarvon. 
 The Crowes are there, and I hear Mr. Crowe 
 has two very amiable daughters," answered 
 
 o 5
 
 298 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 Ellerslie. " Had you not better invite them 
 also here for next spring, Carslope ?'* 
 
 He had the forbearance not to look at her 
 as he spoke, or to notice the deep flush of 
 pain his words excited. Mr. Carslope was 
 the next who spoke, 
 
 " By the bye, Flo', what became of that 
 young hawk which Godfrey, poor fellow, 
 caught for you last summer ? I saw the 
 empty cage to-day, and that reminded me." 
 
 " J. set him free, father, shortly after. It 
 was dying, I thought, in the cage, so I let it 
 go." 
 
 "I should not have thought you could have 
 liked to part with your poor cousin's last gift,'' 
 said her father, languidly. 
 
 " I can't bear to keep anything impri- 
 soned," said Florence quickly. '' If a thing 
 wants to be free I must let it go, if it costs me 
 my heart.'' 
 
 Her voice was very tremulous, and Eller- 
 slie glanced quickly at her. She coloured as
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 299 
 
 she met his eyes, and he was for a while em- 
 barrassed. He could not mistake her mean- 
 ing — she was longing for freedom as much as 
 the imprisoned hawk. 
 
 When the last day of the fortnight came, 
 Florence's dread of meeting him had increased 
 to such an extent that she absented herself for 
 many hours, wandering through the lanes and 
 along the hill sides with no other companion 
 than her old dog Syphax, who kept constantly 
 by her side. Though greatly fatigued, she 
 would not return till dusk, when she could 
 slip in unperceived, and then, for fear he 
 might be watching for her, she stole into the 
 house by the kitchens, and went up to her 
 own room. She remained there the whole 
 evening, sending word by the house-keeper 
 that she was too completely wearied out to 
 join them. 
 
 The next day a cold, sharp rain kept her 
 in-doors, and she dreaded once more that he 
 should come and talk to her. She could not 
 have given herself a satisfactory reason for
 
 300 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 trying to elude him; the explanation must 
 come sooner or later, and she could not hope 
 to postpone it more than a day or two at the 
 furthest. But the repugnance was stronger 
 than her judgment, and she sought safety by 
 her father's side, where Ellerslie could not 
 introduce these painful topics. She read to 
 Mr. Carslope, talked to him perseveringly, 
 and filled his pipe assiduously. Once her 
 efforts to amuse him seemed vain, and he ap- 
 peared determinedly falling asleep ; and 
 rising softly she was about to leave the room, 
 lest Ellerslie might take advantage of the 
 opportunity, but her father re-opened his eyes, 
 and called her back to entertain him again. 
 
 She came back, and all at once it struck 
 her that her father's physical powers were 
 certainly less than they had been during the 
 summer. The last three weeks even had 
 made a difference — he looked more shrunken, 
 stooped more. He seldom now, even on a 
 fine day, left his chair by the fire to encounter 
 the chill of the outer air. He talked less,
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 301 
 
 dozed more, and now that Wyvil was no 
 longer there to exercise a mild despotism 
 over him, had relapsed more than ever into 
 his old habits of deep drinking. His wine 
 neither cheered nor inebriated him, but it 
 seemed to be undermining his strength, and 
 she felt remorseful as she thought of all this, 
 that for so many days she had been absorbed 
 only in her own concerns, and not in his well- 
 being or amusement.
 
 302 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 "by the pale moonlight." 
 
 When she left the dining-room that evening 
 she remembered with a sudden fear that 
 Ellerslie would probably take advantage of 
 her father's prolonged self-indulgence to get 
 speech of her, and she hastily resolved to 
 spend the intervening hours till the house was 
 still for the night, and all danger of meeting 
 him over, in her own retired attic. She took 
 a candle and her book, though her mind was 
 too disturbed to allow of much profitable
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 303 
 
 reading, and opened the door whicli led to the 
 old matted passage, through the disused part 
 of the house, which was the way to the garret. 
 Mounting the first flight of steps, she stopped 
 to look out of the window. The rain had 
 ceased for the time, though dark masses of 
 clouds were surging up over the horizon of 
 hills, their ragged edges torn by the gale into 
 all fanciful shapes, and sweeping across the 
 moon with a fury that rendered the occasional 
 gleams of light only ghastly, by a contrast 
 with the intervening darkness. The trees 
 writhed their stripped branches in the gale, 
 and the wind moaned in the old chimneys of 
 the house, and waved the flame of her candle 
 to and fro. 
 
 Suddenly, as she stood there, half depressed, 
 half soothed by the wildness of the scene 
 without, she heard a very different sound. The 
 door at the further end of the matted passage 
 opened and shut, and a footstep, which though 
 light and hardly audible on the thick matting, 
 had the firm tread of a man's thick-heeled
 
 304 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 boot was beard below. Ellerslie was seeking 
 her, and tbe panic she felt had nothing of 
 reasoning in it — it was involuntary. Swift 
 as thought, she fled noiselessly to the other 
 end of the gallery, and tried to unfasten the 
 door leading to the staircase of her garret. 
 Once there, she could bolt herself in, and be 
 freed from him for one evening, at least. But 
 the door stuck fast, as it was wont to do in 
 damp weather, and her hurried efforts to open 
 it were fruitless. Her heart beat faster — he 
 was coming on, and she had no power to 
 escape. What he could say or do to hurt her 
 she did not think, — her terror was at 
 that moment unconquerable. His footsteps 
 sounded on the staircase, and in an agony of 
 dread she blew out her candle, and, drawing 
 back as closely as possible into the darkest 
 corner of the gallery, waited his approach in 
 breathless suspense. 
 
 He was surprised to find it all dark. 
 " Florence !" he called, at first softly, then 
 louder, and meeting no reply began groping
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 305 
 
 liis way to the further end, where the garret 
 door was situated. But his eye got rapidly 
 accustomed to the gloom, or else his ear was 
 quick enough to catch her suppressed breath- 
 ing, for he hesitated only a few moments, 
 and then she felt his hand laid on her 
 shoulder, as he said, in a low, grieved tone, 
 
 " Florence, my poor child, what have I 
 done to make you so afraid of me ?'' 
 
 A half stifled sob was the only answer. 
 He put his arm round her waist, and with 
 gentle force drew her to the window, where 
 the moon, having temporarily waded through 
 the clouds, shed its light over her colourless 
 face and quivering lips. Ellerslie regarded 
 her for a few moments with surprise, and 
 then said, 
 
 *' You are anxious or frightened, one or the 
 other. I did want to speak to you, but never 
 mind that now. We can put it off to abetter 
 time." 
 
 " No," said Florence, with energy, and 
 shrinking away from the light contact of his
 
 306 THE MASTER OF AVINGEOURNE. 
 
 hand, " I have put it off too long already. 
 Ellerslle, you asked me to love you, but I 
 cannot do it. I have thought it over, night 
 and day, but the idea makes me wretched. 
 I will always be an affectionate cousin, if you 
 will let me ; but if you ask for more I cannot 
 give it." 
 
 " Florence, you are agitated ; speak more 
 calmly. You know, dear, I gave you plenty 
 of time to learn to like me in. I will not 
 hurry you now. You shake your head — do 
 you think I should not be kind to you ? Do 
 not you know that I love you better than my 
 life ? —that your slightest wish is a law to 
 me?" 
 
 " Oh! if it is," said Florence, with an im- 
 ploring gesture, "do leave me, and never 
 say a word more to me. I don't love you — I 
 never shall. You said you would take my 
 answer to-night. What can I say more to 
 make you believe me ? All idea of loving 
 you makes me tremble, and I cannot think it 
 will ever be otherwise."
 
 THE MASTER OF WIXGBOURNE. 307 
 
 " It will be otherwise, dear. Give me 
 your promise, and I will be satisfied. I'll 
 make you like me afterwards. You don^t 
 wish to drive me to despair ?" 
 
 ''No ; but, Ellerslie, I do not love you — I 
 never shall ! I feel I shall hate you if you 
 ask me any longer I am already afraid of 
 you. Oh, you ought to go — you ought to be 
 satisfied ! I never wish to see you again — I 
 shall never change my mind.'* 
 
 '' You say this because you love Wyvil !" 
 said Ellerslie, with a flash of his eye, which 
 betokened his patience was at an end. 
 
 " I do not say it for that reason," cried 
 Florence. 'Mf I did, you would have no 
 right to be angry. I am free to make my own 
 choice. But I was not thinking of him when 
 I said I could not love you, Ellerslie. I said 
 the same when I had only known him three 
 weeks." 
 
 " You did," said Ellerslie, with a slow and 
 terrible emphasis on his words. " I have not
 
 308 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 forgotten the day — it was the'day your cousin 
 died. You may remember, too, as your 
 memory carries you back so flir, that I swore 
 you should never be the wife of another. I 
 say more now. I was passionate then — now 
 I am quite calm. You shall be mine. Flo- 
 rence, you may shrink back ; you may look at 
 me with anger and defiance, but I know it as 
 surely as that we stand here — you and I, at 
 this window." 
 
 " You know it !" repeated Florence, her 
 indignation mastering completely all other 
 emotion. " How dare you speak to me in 
 this manner ? You know I shall marry you ! 
 Who has given you the power to say I shall, 
 whether I will or no ? What scheme have 
 you been nursing so long? Do you mean to 
 force me to agree? Let me pass — I will go." 
 
 '' No, you shall stay, Florence, and hear 
 me," he cried, passionately. 
 
 "I will not, Ellerslie— I will go. All 
 love, friendship, esteem is over for ever be-
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 309 
 
 tween us. I will hear no more. Let me 
 pass ! Let me go to my father ! What ! do 
 you mean to keep Qie by force ?" 
 
 " If by saying force,'' said Ellerslie, de- 
 taining her, however, with a firm hand, "you 
 mean that I shall make you marry me by 
 compulsion, or witliout your free consent, you 
 are mistaken ; the law would not bear me out 
 in that. I claim nothing but what is mine, 
 and woe to you and your father if you drive 
 me to claim that. I mean to have your free 
 consent. I hoped to have your love, but 
 that, I see, is in vain. Had you cared for 
 me, you would have spared me a very painful 
 task, and yourself an unpleasant shock, which 
 you now compel me to give." 
 
 He stopped, and Florence involuntarily 
 clasped her hands in terror of what was 
 coming. She made no further effort to leave 
 him, and he on his part folded his arms and 
 stood immoveable, the bright gleam in his eye 
 alone showing his high excitement. 
 
 "You are a dutiful daughter, Florence,*'
 
 olO THE MASTER OF WINGBOUKNE. 
 
 he said, at length, '^ and love your father. 
 You would be sorry if any harm were to 
 happen to him, I believe." 
 
 " Oh ! what have you to tell me of my 
 father?" she cried, in uncontrollable alarm. 
 " He is ill ; he has had a sudden —Oh ! Ellers- 
 lie, why have you kept me here so long?'' 
 
 '' Stay a moment; he is perfectly well. It 
 is not of his health I am going to speak. 
 But if you feel such anxiety about every ail- 
 ment of his, would you not, if you knew him 
 to be in great danger, sacrifice, I do not say 
 your life-— that is never called for out of 
 romances — but your dearest wishes to him ?" 
 
 Florence eyed him steadily as she an- 
 swered, 
 
 " My father has said more than once lately 
 he has no wish to control my wishes." 
 
 " That is not the question. Your father is 
 in danger, though as yet he knows nothing 
 about it. I alone can save him, and that I 
 will not do, except on one condition." 
 
 "You can save him; he is in danger!'
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOUKNE. 3il 
 
 gasped Florence. ''What sort of danger? 
 What can jou do ?' 
 
 " What would you say if I were to tell you 
 it was the consequence of his own act ? That 
 the father you trusted so implicitly has com- 
 mitted a crime which would, if known, draw 
 down upon him the heaviest consequences of 
 disgrace and ruin ?" 
 
 " Disgrace ! Ruin !" repeated Florence, 
 shivering with terror. *' How do you know ? 
 What do you mean ? I do not believe it." 
 
 " If you doubt my truth," said EUerslie, 
 " I will tell you nothing. You will then 
 learn it at last, when it is too late.'' 
 
 *' Go on then, oh, go on," she exclaimed. 
 " Do you want to drive me mad ? What has 
 he done ?" 
 
 " It would be useless to tell you the parti- 
 culars. I can do so if you like, if it will be 
 a gratification to you to know the full black- 
 ness of his guilt ; but for the present you 
 may feel assured that if it is discovered he 
 will be compelled to leave Wingbourne, and
 
 312 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 
 
 live an outcast and beggar for the rest of bis 
 life — if the law did not visit him with worse 
 penalties." 
 
 " I do not believe it," cried poor Florence, 
 in desperation. '' You are inventing it to try 
 and frighten me. My father, my dear kind 
 father, never could have been guilty of a 
 terrible crime." 
 
 " It was done before you were born," said 
 EUerslie, coldly ; " but he will feel the con- 
 sequences just as heavily as if it were yester- 
 day. For aught I know he may have led a 
 blameless life since. You do not believe he 
 can have been guilty ? Picture your father 
 to yourself, Florence ; I would not vvilllngly 
 pain you, but what, Jet me ask you, is the 
 steadiness of principle in him which makes 
 you think he would not do any crime if 
 strongly tempted ?" 
 
 " But what is the danger ? Is it known ? 
 Oh, EUerslie, you promised to save him. 
 What can you do ? 
 
 " I can hide the proofs of his crime. None
 
 THE MASTER OF WIXGBOURNE. 313 
 
 at present know the truth except myself and 
 one other person. If I d o not accuse your 
 father, he is in no danger; and I will not 
 accuse him, if you, Florence, will say the 
 word, and promise to be my wife." 
 
 " Your wife !" said Florence, shrinking 
 away from him with horror. " And you 
 threaten to accuse him yourself ; your own 
 relation, your friend for so many years. Or 
 you would make me the price of your for- 
 bearance. Ellerslie ! can you be human to 
 think of so monstrous a cruelty ? He is in 
 no danger but from you, and you mean to 
 give him up?" 
 
 " I can, and I will,'' said Ellerslie, promptly, 
 " unless you reward me for my silence. For- 
 bearance ! I have forborne for the last seven 
 years to disclose his guilt, when I might have 
 stamped him with infamy had such been my 
 purpose." 
 
 " Seven years ! and why tell it now if you 
 have concealed it so long?" 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 314 THE MASTER OF WINGBGURNE. 
 
 " To win your acquiescence, Florence. 
 Had you been willing to love me for my own 
 sake you should never have heard so painful 
 a story. But you would not ; you could not 
 give me credit for loving you as well as I 
 do." 
 
 " Loving me !" said Florence, wildly. 
 " Do you call this loving me, when you are 
 ruining me and all I have of dearest ? You 
 have mistaken your course, Ellerslie. I have 
 always feared you— I disliked you without 
 knowing why ; now I hate you. If you 
 hoped to make me accept you by this threat, 
 you have utterly failed. Do your worst 
 upon us ! I will never become your wife 
 through fear.'' 
 
 She had drawn away from the window 
 where he was standing, and was looking at 
 him with a sort of frantic defiance in her 
 eyes. Her unlooked-for opposition aroused 
 all Ellerslie' s combativenesss. He would be 
 unyielding, too, and show no mercy if she 
 resisted him.
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 315 
 
 U 
 
 Very well, you have made your choice," 
 he said, after a short pause, during which her 
 quick breathing, and the moan of the wind 
 Outside had been the only sounds. " I shall 
 leave you now, and to-morrow will see the 
 blow struck that will drive your father away 
 for ever from these walls, a pauper and an 
 outcast, and you will have the satisfaction of 
 knowing it is your doing.'' 
 
 He turned awav to descend the stairs. 
 Florence, in desperation, flung herself after 
 him. 
 
 *' Ellerslie ! stay, have pity, have mercy on 
 us ! Oh, if you have, as you say, any love 
 for me, do not kill me with thinking I am my 
 father's ruin. Come back ! oh, tell me you 
 will not betray him, and I will do anything 
 in my power." 
 
 ^' It is too late now. You had the choice 
 given you." 
 
 '' Oh ! not too late for mercy, Ellerslie. 
 Come back ! I will be • all you would have
 
 316 THE MASTER OF WIXGBOURNE. 
 
 me, if you will only spare him. I will try 
 to love you — I will be your wife ! Ellerslie, 
 Ellerslie, do not go, on this cruel errand. Oh? 
 show us some pity." 
 
 She had sunk on the floor as she made her 
 passionate entreaty, and now clasped his 
 knees convulsively. Ellerslie stooped, and 
 lifted her up by main force. 
 
 " Are you in earnest ?" he said, compelling 
 her to turn her face towards his ; it was con- 
 vulsed with agony, and looked white as death 
 in the moonlight which streamed through the 
 window on to the dusty floor at their feet. 
 "Do you make this promise truly, Florence? 
 Will you, if I promise never to betray your 
 father, swear to become my wife?" 
 
 '' You say," she murmured, '' that it is only 
 through you he is in danger." 
 
 " Yes, I can silence the witness, as I have 
 done already for many years. If you will 
 fulfil your promise, I am able and willing to 
 keep mine.'*
 
 THE MASTER OF WINGBOURNE. 317 
 
 • " I promise then/' she said faintly, and he 
 caught her in his arms, pressing passionate 
 kisses on her forehead. He felt her shiver 
 and tremble, but it was not for a minute or 
 two that he discovered she had fainted. To 
 restore her to her senses on the spot would 
 have been impossible, and lifting her carefully 
 and tenderly he carried her down the moonlit 
 staircase, and along the matted gallery. A new 
 and unwelcome feeling of remorse came over 
 him as he saw her lifeless and marble face 
 when once more in the lamplight in the hall, 
 but he sliook off the intruding tormentor, 
 and summoning the housekeeper told her 
 that her young mistress had been very much 
 frightened in the garret. Mrs. Williams 
 lamented and wondered, and between them 
 they carried the poor girl up to her own 
 room. 
 
 There, as soon as he saw symptoms of re- 
 turning consciousness, Ellerslie left her in the 
 charge of the housekeeper ; and returning to 
 
 p 3
 
 318 THE MASTER OF WI^GBOURNE. 
 
 the dining-room, he found Mr. Carslope, who 
 was in complete ignorance of the dismal 
 scene which had so lately taken place, had 
 fallen asleep over his wine. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
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 BENSON'S WATCHES. 
 
 S^viss watches of guaranteed quality, 
 
 gold from £b 5s. ; silver from £2 U's. 6d. 
 
 25, Old Bond Street, London. 
 
 Benson's Exact Watch. 
 
 Gold from £3(i ; silver from £24. 
 25, Old Bond Street, London. 
 
 BENSON'S CLOCKS. 
 
 " The 9locks and watches were objects 
 of great attraction, and Avell repaid the 
 trouble of an mspection."— Illustrated 
 London News, 8th November, 1862. 
 25, Old Bond Street, London. 
 
 BENSON'S CLOCKS. 
 
 Suitable for the dining and drawing 
 rooms, library, bedroom, hall, staircase, 
 bracket, carriage, skeleton, chime, musi- 
 cal, night, astronomical, regulator, shop, 
 warehouse, office, counting house, &c. 
 25, Old Bond Street, London- 
 
 BENSOirS~CLOCKS. 
 
 Drawing room clocks, richly gilt, and 
 
 ornamented with fine enamels from the 
 
 imperial manufactories of Sevres, from 
 
 £200 to £2 2s. 
 
 25, Old Bond Street, London. 
 
 BENSON'S CLOCKS, 
 
 For the dining room, in every sliape, 
 style, and variety of bronze — re<l, green , 
 copper, Florentine, &c. A tliousand 
 can be selected from, from 100 guineas 
 to 2 guineas. 
 25, Old Bond Street, London. 
 
 BENSON'S CLOCKS, 
 
 In the foUoAving marbles : — Black, 
 rouge antique, Sienne, d'Egypte, rouge 
 vert, malachite, white, rose'e, serpen- 
 tine, Brocatelle, porphyry, green, 
 griotte, d'Ecosse, alabaster, lapis lazuli 
 Algerian onyx, CaUfornian. 
 25, Old Bond Sireet, London. 
 
 Benson's Indian Watcli. 
 
 Gold, £23 ; silver, £1 1 lis. 
 25, Old Bond Street, London. 
 
 THE HOUSE-CLOCK DEPARTMENT, 
 
 Will be found to contain the largest and most varied stock ot Clocks of every 
 description, in gilt, bronze, marbles, porcelain, and woods of the choicest kinds. 
 
 In this department is also included a very fine collection of 
 BRONZES D'ART. 
 
 BENSON'S ILLUSTRATED PAMPHLET, free by post for three stamps, contains 
 a short history of Horology, with prices and patterns of every description of watch 
 and clock, and enables those who live in any part of the world to select a watch, 
 and have it sent safe by post. 
 
 25, OLD BOND STR3ET, 
 
 AND AT THE STEAM FACTORY, 33 & 34, LUDGATE HILL, E.C
 
 EVENING DRESSES 
 
 BLACK NET AND TULLE. 
 
 Messrs. JAY have from Paris a variety of BLACK 
 EVENING DRESSES, which they can confidently 
 recommend, both from their correctness of fashion and 
 economy in price. 
 
 JAY'S, 
 
 Zi)t Hontion (llcncral J^lournino Miaidjouge, 
 
 247, 249, and 251, REGE^'T Street. 
 
 BLACK SILKS. 
 
 Purchasers will find at all times the greatest possible 
 Advantage in Buying BLACK SILKS, of either 
 the richest quality or those of a lighter material, and 
 at a cheaper cost, at 
 
 JAY'S, 
 
 Z\)t Eontion (General J^ourning ^Marcfjcusr, 
 
 247, 249, and 251, Eegent Street. 
 
 FAMILIES 
 
 Will always find at Messrs. JAY'S a very large and 
 carefully-selected Stock of MOURNING GOODS 
 suitable for the present Season. 
 
 ^f)e Eontion <^cneral JHcuining 5Marcf)oti0e. 
 
 247, 249, and 251, Eegent Street. 
 
 JAY'S.
 
 F. J. ACRES, 
 
 Having purchased the business of the General Furnishing Company, 
 
 24 and 25, Baker Street, W., 
 
 INVITES ATTENTION TO HIS 
 
 MAGNIFICENT STOCK OF 
 
 CABINET FURNITURE, 
 
 UPHOLSTERY, 
 
 c ^^ i^ :e> 23 T s, <ss o . , 
 
 One of tlie largest and most comprehensive in the Trade, and replete 
 with every requisite in first-class Furniture, at the most Moderate 
 Prices. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUES FREE BY POST. 
 
 F. J. ACRES, 
 24 AND 25, BAKEE STREET, W.
 
 New and Eeviskd Editiox. Price 123. 
 
 THE VOICE AND SINGING, 
 
 (The Formation and Cultivation of the Voice for Singing), 
 By ADOLFO FEEEARI. 
 
 "The great and deserved success of this work has brought it, in no long time 
 to a second edition, carefully revised, and enriched with a number of additional 
 exercises, which greatly increase its value. 
 
 " Since its first publication this book has met with general acceptance, and is now 
 used as a vade mecum by many of the most eminent and intelligent vocal instruc- 
 tors both in the metropolis and the provinces. We say vocal instructors, because 
 it is only to instructors that works of this class can be of material use. S nging 
 is not an art -which can be learned by solitary study with the help of books, and 
 those who are self taught (as it is called) are always badly taught. But a good 
 treatise, in which the principles and rules of the art. founded on reason and ex- 
 perience, are clearly expressed, is of infinite value, first to instructors, in assistin:? 
 them to adopt a rational and efficient method of teaching, and next to pupils 
 themselves, in constantly reminding them of, and enabling them to profit by, \ho 
 lessons of their master. In both these ways Siguor Ferrari's works have been 
 found pre-eminently useful. 
 
 " The foundation of singing is the formation of the voice. A bad voice cannot 
 be made a go od one ; but the most mediocre voice may be made a source of 
 pleasure both to its possessor and to others. AccorLlingly, ample dissertations on 
 the formation of the voice abound in our treatise on singing. But it unfortunately 
 happens that these dissertations are more calculated to perplex than to enlighten 
 the reader. We could refer to well known works by professors of singing of great 
 and fashionable name, in which the rules for the formation of the voice are pro- 
 Pounded with such a parade of science, and with descriptions of the vocal organs 
 so mimite, and so full of Greek anatomical terms, that no unlearned reader can 
 possibly understand them. Signor Ferrari (as he tells us) was brought up to the 
 medical profession before, following the bent of his inclination, he betook himself 
 to the study of music. But this circumstance, while it made him acquainted with 
 the physical constriiction of the human organs of sound, has not led him into the 
 common error of displaying superfluous learning. We have not a word about the 
 •glottis,' or the ' trachoBa,' but we have a broad principle distinctly enunciated, 
 and intelligent to everybody. 
 
 " Signor Ferrari's principle is of the simplest kind. 'Everyone,' he says, ' who 
 can speak may sing. The only difference between speaking and singing is, that in 
 speaking we strike the sound impulsively and iinmeiiateiy leave it, whereas in 
 singing we have to sustain the sound with the same form of articulation with 
 which we struck it impulsively.' It is on this principle that Signor Ferrari s 
 practical rules for the formation and cultivation of tlie voice are based. To give 
 the pupil a sufficient control of the breath for utterance of prolonged sounds— to 
 soften the harshness and increase the strength and equality of the natural tones of 
 the voice, without ever forcing it -these are the objects of the scales and exercises 
 on sustained sounds, which must be practised under the careful superintendence 
 of the teacher, whose assistance Signor Ferrari always holds to be indispensable. 
 * * * "—Illustrated Neics. 
 
 KEBLE'S HYMNS. 
 
 Just Published. Price 3s. 
 
 The new S^iss tune " St. Gall," harmonised by Mr. G. B. Allen (as s mg at All 
 Saints', Trinity, and other Churches,) set to Kebles Morning Hymn, with three 
 other hymns by the same author, set to music by the late "Vincent Wallace and 
 Mr. W. Guernsey, are just pubUshed, wth a portrait of Mr. Keble, and a fac-simile 
 of hia Autograph. 
 
 London : Dxjncan Davison & Co., 244, Regent Street, W.
 
 The Hair, Teeth, and Skin. — The importance of tliese essential 
 portions of the human frame cannot be too highly estimated, whether 
 we regard them as the attributes of beauty and of female loveliness, 
 or whether we investigate their peculiar structure, and the elements 
 of which they are composed. The hair, with its singular tubular 
 structure, its peculiar mode of growth and elongation, the delicate 
 method by which its tinge and colour are produced ; partaking, more- 
 over, as it does, of the influence of the mind, liable to be injured by 
 disturbing causes, and totally ruined by neglect; next, the teeth, 
 with their singular formations osseous and fibrous structure, of bone 
 and of enamel; and lastly, the skin, with its secret and wondrous 
 sympathies with the health and well-being of the frame— these are 
 all structures obviately too delicate to be entrusted to ignorant or un- 
 skilful hands , or to the inj urious and corrosive mineral substances which 
 are often so injudiciously applied to them. It is highly satisfactory 
 to state that Messrs Eowland and Sons have succeeded in producing 
 applications of the most meritorious character, their Macassar for 
 the hair, Odonto for the teeth, and Kalydor for the skin, being com- 
 posed of the most beneficial and innoxious elements, and having stood 
 the test of many years of trial and approbation.— C'j?irf Journal, 
 
 Sold by Chemists and Perfumers. 
 
 ^% Ask for *' Eowland's Articles. 
 
 In 3 Vols. 31s. Gd. 
 
 THE GAIN OF A LOSS. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 By the Author of ' * The Last of the Cavaliers." 
 
 " The story is well told, and the suspense, the constant change 
 from hope to despair at first, andthe final triumph of despair forms 
 a most touching part in this history of a true and faithful love." 
 — Observer. 
 
 " The author of ' The Last of the Cavaliers' is known to a 
 numerous body of readers, and this new book, so far from dis- 
 appointing her friends, will give them additional pleasure and 
 fresh reasons for their admiration of a truly talented writer." — 
 Manchester Guarpian. 
 
 " An excellent novel, in every way worthy of the reputation of 
 the author of ' The Last of the Cavaliers.' For grace, delicacy, 
 and dramatic skill, we have read few things so good in the novels 
 that have recently been in our hands." — London Eeview. 
 
 *' The book is pervaded by an excellent spirit." — Athenaeum.