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 ^
 
 LI n> R.AR.Y 
 
 OF THL 
 
 UN IVERSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 B3&5VV 
 V. 1
 
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 NOTHLNG VENTURE, 
 
 NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 a f ncBl 
 
 BY ANNE BEALE, 
 
 ATJTHOB OP "GLADYS THE EEAPEB," ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BENTLBY, NEW BURLINGTON STREE1\ 
 
 1864.
 
 LONDON: FEINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD SIKEET 
 AND CHAEING CROSS.
 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEB 
 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. — Twenty Years Ago . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 II.— The Downs Farm 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 15 
 
 III. — The Old Baronetcy . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 31 
 
 IV.— Ten Little Angels . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 43 
 
 V. — A line's Discoveries 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 59 
 
 VI. — Rich Relations . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 69 
 
 VII. — A Trio of Bachelors 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 86 
 
 VIII. — The Schoolmaster 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 100 
 
 IX. — The Schoolmistress 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 114 
 
 X. — Lachlan E[nighted 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 130 
 
 XI.— Lachlan's Lectures 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 144 
 
 XII. — Torrents of Eain 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 158 
 
 Xni. — A Raid on the Rooks 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 178 
 
 XIV. — Lachlan's Adieux 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 194 
 
 XV. — Among the Navvies 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 214
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XVI. — Mb. Oliver Bat's Suspicions .... 228 
 
 XVII.— Lachlan's Letters 246 
 
 XVIII.— Our Heroines 259 
 
 XIX.— The Squoiee 275 
 
 XX. — The Lord of the Manor 287 
 
 XXI. — Ellen and her Publishers 297
 
 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAYE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TAVENTY YEARS AGO. 
 
 The stage coach, with its four prancing horses, 
 drove up to the door of the Royal Oak, according 
 to its custom, and stopped at that good country 
 inn. The guard sounded his exhilarating horn 
 from behind, and on ran the ostler and brisk 
 little waitress, whilst the landlady stood in 
 portly grandeur, in the doorway of her hostel. 
 The coachman threw the reins over the horses, 
 and jumped down from his box, but did not, 
 as usual, go straight to the bar for his glass of 
 cordial whilst the fresh horses were being har- 
 nessed, but went direct to the coach door to 
 assist some passengers. It was not very often 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 Z NOTHINa VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 that inside passengers got out at the Eoyal 
 Oak, so every one was on the alert to see who 
 they were. 
 
 Curiosity was soon gratified. The coachman 
 nearly lifted out a lady and a little girl, whom 
 he carefully led to the door of the inn, and then 
 loudly called for the steps, in order to enable 
 some outside passengers to dismount from the 
 more conspicuous top of the coach. 
 
 These were a woman and a boy, the former of 
 whom immediately busied herself about luggage, 
 whilst the latter asked the coachman some ques- 
 tion concerning the locality. 
 
 " That large box covered with a wrapper is 
 ours, coachman," said the woman ; " and that 
 portmanteau, and the deal box on the top, and 
 two carpet-bags, and two bandboxes in the 'ind 
 boot. There, guard, that is ours too. Gracious, 
 don't handle it so roughly; and now you are 
 come to the packing-chest at the bottom. There, 
 take care it don't fall. Yes, I think that is all, 
 thank you." 
 
 " Well, ma'am, and nearly enough too," said the 
 coachman, as he received his fee from the Abigail. 
 " I think the lady there wouldn't have the con- 
 science only to give me three shillings for all 
 this." 
 
 " She don't know anything about it ; but
 
 TWENTY YEARS AGO. 6 
 
 there's another shilliDg, as you 'ave been civil 
 and obleeging. And now there's the boy that 
 sat next me, wanting 'is luggage." 
 
 " Guard, please ma'am," said that individual, 
 now coming forward. 
 
 " Bless me, there ain't nothing but coachmen 
 and guards. I don't see what you 'ave done, 
 sir, except blow such a screeching tune that it 
 nearly turned my lady there wild. For my part, 
 I can take care of myself, and my ladies too." 
 
 *'So I should think, ma'am, but the guard 
 expects something all the same." 
 
 " Well, there's half a crown then. And now 
 see to that poor boy, who stands like patience on 
 a monument." 
 
 *' That's your box, my lad, ain't it?" said the 
 guard to the boy. 
 
 " Yes, and that other tin box in front." 
 
 " My ! if this ain't a heavy article. Where 
 did this turn up, my lad ?" 
 
 " I brought it from Australia. Take care of 
 it. It is full of curiosities." 
 
 In due course of time the luggage was col- 
 lected, the coachman and guard had taken their 
 tonic, the four fresh horses had replaced the four 
 weary ones, the reins were in the coachman's 
 hands^ and he on his box, the guard was blowing 
 vigorously on his horn, and the remaining pas-
 
 4 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 sengers were once more whirled off on their way 
 to their more distant destination. 
 
 At the inn door still stood the four dismounted 
 passengers. 
 
 " You had better walk into the parlour a bit, 
 ma'am," said the landlady, addressing her whom 
 she thought the most distinguished of the party. 
 
 " Take my hand, mamma,'' said the little 
 girl. 
 
 "The lady is nearly blind," whispered the 
 maid to the landlady. 
 
 " Poor soul 1 Lawkaday ! This way, my 
 dear, "and the landlady preceded her guests to 
 the parlour. 
 
 "Sit there a minute, mamma, and I will come 
 back," said the child, leading her mother to a 
 seat by the open window, and again running to 
 the door to watch what was going on. 
 
 "Are we to drive in that open car, Fluke? 
 How nice !" said the child. 
 
 " Not so nice. Miss. I don't know 'ow your 
 mamma is to get into it." 
 
 " We will manage that, ma'am," said an 
 elderly man, who was standing near the car 
 aforesaid. " Jack, put the luggage into the cart. 
 What be'st about, gaping like a wide-mouthed 
 frog?" 
 
 " I be'ant about nothing, measter," said Jack
 
 TWENTY YEARS AGO. D 
 
 a short, shock-headed boj, who was gazing at 
 Mrs. Fluke. 
 
 "Then set to work^ glow-bason," said the 
 master, beginning himself to lift a box into 
 a neighbouring cart, that was prepared to receive 
 it and its companions. 
 
 The boxes were soon in the cart, and the 
 master was saying, "Now, don't go to sleep on 
 the road. Jack," when the boy who had got down 
 from the coach, and had been hitherto sitting 
 on his boxes, and looking about him, interrupted 
 him by asking the following questions. 
 
 "Will you tell me the way to Yeo, if you 
 please ? And can I get my luggage carried for 
 me ? And is Mr. Job Lyons at home^ do you 
 know r 
 
 The boy was a physiognomist^ as boys and 
 dogs generally are. Of all the people busied 
 about the travellers and their proceedings outside 
 that small inn, Farmer Bull was the one most 
 likely to give a kindly answer to the above 
 questions. 
 
 " Yeo is to the right, my lad, but it is five 
 miles from here. Nothing but a horse and cart 
 could carry your heavy boxes, and you can get 
 them for money, but not without. And Mr. Job 
 Lyons was at home this morning. What do'st 
 know about him ?"
 
 6 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 "He is my uncle, and I am going to his 
 house." 
 
 ^^ Your uncle ! Who on earth are you, then ?" 
 
 ^*The son of Richard Lyons, who went to 
 Australia^ and " 
 
 The boy's hitherto resolute voice faltered, and 
 he paused. 
 
 "Dick Lyons's boy! My poor lad. And 
 your father and mother ?" 
 
 " Both dead," jerked out the boy, with a 
 strong effort to keep down some inward emotion. 
 
 " Poor lad ! And be'st going to look for a 
 home at Yeo ? Bad look out, I'm afraid. How 
 did you come here ?" 
 
 *' In a ship from Australia, of course. And 
 then by coach." 
 
 " All alone ?" 
 
 " Yfes." 
 
 "No friends?" 
 
 " I always find friends," was the hopeful an- 
 swer, in a firm loud voice. 
 
 "Put the lad's luggage into the cart, glow- 
 bason," cried the farmer to Jack, whose open 
 mouth was now directed towards Mr. Job Lyons's 
 nephew. 
 
 " My, measter, here's a heft !" 
 
 " 'Tis a heft, sure enough. Why, lad, what 
 hast got here ?"
 
 TWENTY YEARS AGO. 7 
 
 " Geological specimens, curiosities ; let me 
 help. Take care, glow-bason, if that's your 
 name," said the lad. 
 
 *'My name's John Dull, and my mother paid 
 for my christening, which is more than yourn 
 did, mayhap," said Jack, offended. 
 
 " I dare say it is, though I was born where 
 there was plenty of water, and named after 
 it." 
 
 " My lady is ready now, Mr. Bull," said Mrs. 
 Fluke, who, after listening to the preceding 
 conversation, suddenly remembered her mistress 
 seated in the inn parlour. 
 
 " In a minute, ma'am. Thee'st better get into 
 the cart, lad, and see after thy specimens. Be'st 
 tired ?" said Mr. Bull. 
 
 '' Well, rather ; I have had a long journey," 
 replied young Lyons. 
 
 "Boy," here broke in a sweet voice, *'you 
 shall go in the car with us ; the cart is so rough." 
 
 " Indeed, Miss Aline, he shall not," peremp- 
 torily responded Mrs. Fluke; ^'your mamma 
 will not approve." 
 
 " But I say he shall, Fluke ; and I'll ask 
 mamma." 
 
 Of course this was said by the young lady 
 traveller, whose large black eyes had been wan- 
 dering here, there, and everywhere, whilst the
 
 8 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 luggage had been stowed away, and whose ears 
 had been equally open. She ran ofif to her 
 mamma, followed by Fluke. 
 
 " Mamma, here is an Australian boy, who is 
 going to Yeo. He has no father or mother. He 
 is a nice boy. May he go in the car ?" 
 
 " Is he clean, my dear ? You know I have a 
 horror of strange boys." 
 
 " His face is very clean. Of course his coat is 
 dusty, because he came outside ; but so is Fluke's 
 cloak." 
 
 " He is anything but clean, my lady," said 
 Fluke. 
 
 '' Now, Fluke ! how can you be so cross, and 
 he an orphan ? May he go, mamma ? I am 
 sure he looks a nice boy." 
 
 " Provided he does not come near me. Aline. 
 Don't dispute. Fluke, if you please. It is so 
 vulgar. When are we to get off?" 
 
 " Now, mamma. The car is waiting." 
 
 Aline led her mother carefully to the car. 
 
 " Boy ! you may go in the car," she said. 
 
 " Not if that lady does not like it," said young 
 Lyons. 
 
 ''But mamma likes it, and I like it, and 
 Fluke doesn't mind, really ; do you, Fluke ?" 
 
 ''It's nothing to me, I'm sure, Miss," said 
 Fluke, majestically.
 
 TWENTY YEARS AGO. 9 
 
 "Will you be pleased to get in, madam," said 
 Mr. Bull, addressing the blind lady, in a voice 
 so gentle that she turned towards him and 
 smiled. 
 
 " You are Mr. Bull, at whose farm we are to 
 lodge, I suppose/' she said. 
 
 " Yes, madam ; and I hope you and the young 
 lady will be comfortable. Sweet heart, she looks 
 kindly happy." 
 
 It was remarkable that the farmer could and 
 did speak two distinct dialects, the one somewhat 
 formal, but grammatical English, the other broad 
 Dorsetshire, though not that of the actual pea- 
 sant. 
 
 " Allow me to help you, madam," he said, 
 almost lifting the lady into the car. 
 
 ''Thank you/' she said, when seated. ''The 
 country air is very pleasant after London." 
 
 '* Mr. Bull," broke in Aline^ pulling his coat- 
 tails, " will you make the boy get into the car 
 instead of the cart. He shall, I say." 
 
 "Father's own son — 'cat after kind,' I see," 
 said the farmer. "Thee'st needn't be proud, 
 lad/' whispering to the boy, ^^ 'tis thy uncle's 
 car, and I'm his father-in-law. Get up in front." 
 
 The boy obeyed ; but said, glancing at Mrs. 
 Fluke, " I have walked twenty miles a day, and 
 could have walked five very well to-day."
 
 10 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 " Thee'rt a brave lad I see, and 'ult want all 
 thy independence for the cousins at Yeo." 
 
 Mr. Bull having seen Jack start with the 
 luggage and cart, and finally closed the car- 
 door upon the ladies — it was a small, open, 
 round-backed car — mounted, himself, in front, and 
 drove off. Let us inspect the party a little more 
 particularly. 
 
 Mr. Bull was a tall, thin, respectable- 
 looking farmer, of about sixty years of age. 
 He had on a black coat, brown kerseymere 
 breeches and gaiters, and a broad-brimmed 
 hat. He was evidently dressed in his best. 
 There was nothing rough about him, but his 
 hands, which must have done him good service. 
 The general expression of his face was gentle, 
 but there was a keen glance of intelligence in 
 his eyes, and a touch of humour about his mouth 
 that gave a peculiar animation to his countenance 
 when he spoke or smiled. Thick, curly, grizzled 
 hair was brushed off a broad, well-lined forehead, 
 which, together with a certain independence of 
 manner, showed sense and resolution. 
 
 Madame Rambouillet — such was the name of 
 the lady — was also tall and thin, of good car- 
 riage, and elegant figure. A very thick blue 
 gauze veil was closely drawn over her face, 
 through which nothing could be seen but a shade
 
 TWENTY TEARS AGO. 11 
 
 over her eyes. She was attired iu the fashion 
 of twenty years ago. There was one peculiarity 
 iu her appearance. Her dress was entirely of a 
 dark blue : gown, cloak, bonnet — all was of that 
 unexceptionable colour. She sat very still, talked 
 little, but seemed to be listening attentively to 
 the graphic descriptions which her little girl 
 gave her of the scenes they passed through. 
 
 This little girl. Aline by name, had nothing 
 particularly to distinguish her from other little 
 girls but a remarkable pair of eyes. These, 
 even a stranger must, perforce, notice. They 
 were large, brown, beaming, honest, trustful 
 eyes, such as one has sometimes seen in a dog : 
 eyes, the owner of which could never tell, or 
 understand a lie; could never forsake a friend, 
 or believe in a foe. She wore a straight, poked 
 bonnet, and her brown, sunny hair, was cropped 
 short, in somewhat boyish fashion. She had 
 short straight petticoats and long trousers ; and 
 the colour blue predominated in her dress. 
 
 Mrs. Fluke was not one of the usual type 
 of Abigails, either of that or this period. She 
 was a plump, comely woman on the right side 
 of forty ; very plainly, but neatly dressed, in 
 light cotton gown and straw bonnet. No flounces 
 or gay ribbons improved her outer man, still 
 there was a good air about her. Shrewd, quick
 
 12 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 grey eyes, a good complexion, and higli colour, 
 were her personal attractions. She joined 
 in the conversation that went on in the car 
 familiarly enough, but never addressed Madame 
 Eambouillet without marking the distinction 
 between her as mistress and herself as maid. 
 
 We come lastly to the boy, Lachlan Lyons 
 by name, who was seated in front by the side 
 of Mr. Bull. He had, perhaps, more to dis- 
 tinguish him personally than the rest of the 
 party, inasmuch as he had a remarkable breadth 
 of forehead, and projection of eyebrows. Be- 
 neath these bushy brows his eyes sometimes 
 looked out, as if they were searching for some- 
 thing beyond the scope of vision before him ; but 
 at others they were very much at home in the 
 actual scene around him, and very inquisitive 
 orbs they apparently were. He was a manly, 
 good-looking boy; and, doubtless, in less way- 
 worn clothes^ and with a smoother head of hair, 
 might have been more attractive to Mrs. Fluke, 
 as he was very far from ungainly in air or figure. 
 
 Whilst I have been describing the inmates of 
 the car, that vehicle has trundled on through 
 lanes, by-ways, and cross-roads, some four or 
 five miles. 
 
 "They are such pretty lanes, mamma," was 
 Aline's constant cry. " There are primroses and
 
 TWENTY YEARS AGO. 13 
 
 violets all over the banks; don't you smell 
 them ? and some of the fields are as yellow as 
 butter with cowslips and buttercups. And now 
 we are going through an arch of bushes, like a 
 bower : and now over a grass lane, quite like 
 velvet. Oh ! Mr. Bull, are Yeo and the Downs 
 Farm like this ?" 
 
 "We are just come to the turning to the 
 village, missey, where I must put down my 
 young friend here. Walk straight up for half a 
 mile^ and then ask for your uncle's house, and 
 any one will direct you." 
 
 Mr. Bull said this to young Lyons, whose 
 countenance fell. 
 
 " Mamma, may we not drive the boy to his 
 uncle's? Mr. Bull, you must take the boy to 
 his new home," whispered Aline behind Mr. 
 Bull, standing up to do so. 
 
 " Is it much longer ?" asked Madame Ram- 
 bouillet, wearily. 
 
 " About half a mile, madam^ if we take 
 the short cut after we reach my son-in-law's 
 house." 
 
 " You had better put him down here," said 
 Mrs. Fluke. 
 
 He was about to jump from the car, when 
 Aline laid hold of his arm, and insisted on Mr. 
 Bull's driving on.
 
 14 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 "Mamma does not mind, do you mamma? 
 And then we shall go through Yeo." 
 
 " Yes ; take the boy to his uncle's/* said 
 Madame Eambouillet ; and so they drove through 
 Yeo, which, being an important place, must be 
 honoured by a new chapter.
 
 15 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE DOWNS FARM* 
 
 Our travellers entered the village of Yeo at 
 the bottom of it, and as it was long and strag- 
 gling, it took them some little time to get to the 
 top. Just on its outskirts there was a house of 
 some pretensions, of which only the upper win- 
 dows were visible, the rest of it being hidden 
 hj a very high, well-shorn box hedge, which 
 surmounted a wall of some five or six feet. The 
 said hedge was so high and round, that it excited 
 the admiration of Aline. 
 
 " Who lives in that nice house on the right, 
 Mr. Bull ?" she asked. " It has a carriage 
 entrance, mamma, and a very smooth gravel 
 drive, and that is all I can see on account of the 
 most splendid hedge in the world." 
 
 " Captain and Mrs. Love, and two children," 
 replied Mr. Bull. 
 
 " Oh ! what a sweet place," said Aline ; " but 
 how sad it looks with all the blinds down."
 
 16 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHINa HAVE. 
 
 Mr. Bull took ofif his hat and bowed his head 
 reverently as he passed the gate of the pretty 
 vicarage on the left. 
 
 '' Death has been there, young lady," he said, 
 " and carried off the best and gentlest creature 
 that ever lived. He always does take the good 
 and leave the bad. And now he has cut down 
 the tender young mother, and left the seedling 
 baby in her place. God help our poor parson. 
 Four children, and the youngest just come into 
 this weary world !" 
 
 *'0h, Mr. Bull, how very sad," said Aline, 
 with two large tears in her large eyes. " And 
 the flowers in the garden look so bright under 
 the warm sun. Why does the sun shine so? 
 And who will take care of the little baby ?" 
 
 " Our parson's sister is come, they say." 
 
 Whilst they were talking, they passed by two 
 or three neat cottages unnoticed, and began to 
 ascend the hill. 
 
 " There is an inn, mamma, with a large sign 
 of a ram. It is covered with a vine, and has 
 such curious old windows. And next is a shop. 
 I think they must sell everything, there is so 
 much in the windows. And who lives in that 
 neat little house, with the palings and the garden 
 in front ?" 
 
 "Our new doctor lodges there. We never
 
 THE DOWNS FARM. 17 
 
 had a doctor here before, and the first thing that 
 happens is a death that's a loss to the whole 
 parish. There he is, as fine as fippence." 
 
 A smart young man, with very bushy red 
 whiskers, walked out of the neat house, and 
 touched his hat to Mr. Bull, whilst he looked into 
 the car. A well-dressed young lady came out of 
 a neighbouring house, and stopped to speak to 
 him. 
 
 " That is your second cousin, my lad, Miss 
 Love, just left school," said Mr. Bull. 
 
 " I do not like that house,*' said Aline, " it 
 looks as if the sun oever could shine through 
 those tall trees. A large house, mamma, very 
 dreary-looking, with a plot of green in front, and 
 no flowers, only a bed of shrubs in the middle, 
 and some huge trees, full of rooks, behind. Who 
 lives there, Mr. Bull ?" 
 
 " Three maiden ladies, my dear, named Daw. 
 Your great aunts, on your mother's side, my boy, 
 and rich as Croesus." 
 
 " How cold and damp they must be with that 
 little pond opposite. Oh ! there is the church, 
 mamma ; quite at the top of the hill, with a wood 
 at the back, and looking down on the whole vil- 
 lage. A grey, old church, with an ivied tower 
 and large porch. The sun is shining on it just as 
 it did on the poor little vicarage. It seems un- 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 kind, when the clergyman is so unhappy, doesn't 
 it. Fluke ?" 
 
 " What does the sun know about it ?" said the 
 matter-of-fact Fluke. 
 
 '* There is the Manor Farm," said Mr. Bull, 
 ^' with its back to us, its side to the road, and 
 facing the church ; and here are a dozen of thy 
 cousins, and my grandchildren, lad, come out to 
 see who's passing." 
 
 Young Lyons looked wistfully at a large, hand- 
 some, but decayed house at the right, with farm 
 buildings at the back and sides, that seemed to 
 be part of the house ; and then at a troop of chil- 
 dren, who rushed from a gate at the side, and 
 shouted, " Grandfather, grandfather ! have you 
 got Mrs. Eambully ?" 
 
 " Hush ! you riotous brats !" said the farmer, 
 stopping at the said gate, and getting down from 
 the car ; whilst young Lyons turned his head 
 back, and for the first time looked into it. 
 
 " Thank you, ladies, I am very much obliged 
 to you," he said, as well as some impediment in 
 his throat would let him. 
 
 " You are very welcome," said Madame Ram- 
 bouillet ; " I hope you will find your relations at 
 home." 
 
 " I hope they will be kind to you, poor boy," 
 said Aline. " Good-bye."
 
 THE DOWNS FARM. 19 
 
 He jumped off the car, and Aline added to her 
 mother — 
 
 *' He is a much nicer boy than his cousins, I'm 
 sure, mamma." 
 
 Mr. Bull, meanwhile, was trying to quiet his 
 grandchildren, who were all surrounding him, and 
 asking — 
 
 **Is that Madam Eambully with the veil? 
 Who is the other lady ? Why did you come this 
 way ? Who is that boy ?" and similar questions. 
 
 '* Now, Jack, be of use for once in'st life, and 
 hold the horse's head. Kern, where's thy father ? 
 Run quick, and say I want him." 
 
 A sturdy little lad of ten stood by the horse, 
 whilst a tall girl ran off to do her grandfather's 
 bidding, and soon returned, followed by her father. 
 He was rather a slovenly-looking man, in work-a- 
 day clothes, but with an air superior to his 
 dress. 
 
 Mr. Bull took the young stranger by the hand, 
 and led him inside the gate to meet his uncle. 
 
 " Job," he said, " thee'st not got brats enough, 
 so heaven has sent thee another. Here's thy 
 brother Dick's orphan ; a likely lad. Be kind to 
 him, and treat him as a godsend. Tell Rhoda to 
 be good to the boy, and let him come to me when 
 beest tired of him. Don't look so dazed, man !" 
 
 Mr. Job Lyons did not seem to consider the
 
 20 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 boy in the light of a godsend, or, indeed, to un- 
 derstand what it all meant. He glanced at him 
 instinctively, and then at his own little tribe of 
 children, and finally pushed his fingers through 
 his hair, then said slowly — 
 
 "You know, father-in-law, that Ehoda will 
 never put up with it. I don't believe the boy is 
 Dick's." 
 
 " Yes, I am, sir," said the boy, '*and here is a 
 letter from my poor father to you ; but I can go 
 away, if you will not have me." 
 
 " This is Dick's handwriting, sure enough," 
 said Mr. Lyons. 
 
 " 1 must go now," said Farmer Bull, " I can't 
 keep the ladies waiting. Good-bye, my lad! 
 Come over to the Downs when you like. Take 
 care of your new cousin, and be kind to him, 
 Kern ; and tell Jemima and Kezia to take care of 
 him. Now, Luke, go and open the gate into the 
 downs for us." 
 
 Farmer Bull was soon driving up the steep hill 
 towards the church, beyond which there was a 
 gate that opened into the downs, towards which 
 Jack ran as fast as he could. 
 
 Whilst they were going slowly upwards. Aline 
 was gazing intently downwards upon the farm 
 and group she had left behind, and describing 
 them, as was her custom, to her mother.
 
 THE DOWNS FARM. 21 
 
 The Manor Farm had been once the Manor 
 House, and still retained some of its ancient 
 grandeur. It had a handsome stone porch and 
 mullioned windows, which, though partly concealed 
 by a large vine on one side, and a Virginian 
 creeper and passion flower on the other, looked 
 out aristocratically from beneath its broad eaves. 
 There was a gravelled path in front, leading into 
 the fields at its side ; and beyond it a green, with 
 a sundial in the middle, enclosed by a high box 
 hedgCo In the centre of the green was another 
 path, leading straight from the door, through a 
 little gate placed under an arch cut in the box 
 hedge, into a large garden beyond, whence a 
 second gate opened into the churchyard. At the 
 back of the church, which directly faced the 
 farm, though seated much above it, were the 
 broad, breez}^ downs. Glimpses of these were 
 visible through the trees that flanked and made a 
 background to the church. 
 
 The road up the hill lay on the left of the farm, 
 but on its right an interminable succession of 
 fields, all ending in the range of downs that ran 
 straight on for many miles. 
 
 Aline was too much engrossed with the human 
 beings who stood on the gravel path outside the 
 house to say much of the beauty of the scene 
 around ; but very beautiful it looked beneath the
 
 22 NOTHIXG VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 sunlight on that spring afternoon. Her talk was 
 as follows : — 
 
 *' The man has opened the letter, mamma, and 
 is reading it. The boy is looking up the hill 
 after us. I wish Mr. Bull had brought him with 
 us." . 
 
 "Well, to be sure, Miss Aline," interrupted 
 Fluke, "you take up with every one." 
 
 ''All those rude children are staring at him as 
 if they had never seen any one before. Now the 
 girl is trying to peep into the letter over her 
 father's shoulder, and one little boy has climbed 
 up the window behind. They do not seem to 
 speak to the poor stranger. How very unkind ! 
 Ah ! now I cannot see them any longer. We have 
 passed the pretty church, and are come upon the 
 downs. Mr. Bull, I hope they will not turn that 
 boy out of doors." 
 
 '*0h, no! little miss. He is sure of bed and 
 board, even if he gets more kicks than halfpence 
 with it." 
 
 " Are they kind people, Mr. Bull ?" 
 
 " Yery well in their way ; but they are not 
 rich, and have ten children." 
 
 " Ah ! now I can see the farm again, far, far 
 down below us. They are gone into the house, 
 boy and all, mamma. Such a glorious view — 
 meadows running after one another, into one
 
 THE DOWNS FARM. 23 
 
 another, and dotted all over with trees, and farms, 
 and cottages, and Yeo in the midst. There is a 
 house with towers : what is that, Mr. Bull ?" 
 
 " The Downs Hall. It is being rebuilt for the 
 young heir whilst he is abroad." 
 
 "And what is his name ?" 
 
 " Nux— Sir John Nux." 
 
 " My dear Aline, do not ask so many ques- 
 tions," whispered Madame Eambouillet. 
 
 *' Very well, mamma. This is like driving in 
 the sky ; on the wind, and in the wind. There is 
 a large house far on, with trees round it, halfway 
 up the hill : what is that, Mr. Bull ?" 
 
 "The Downs Lodge, where three bachelor 
 gentlemen live." 
 
 " How funny ! what is their name T 
 
 " Bat, my dear." 
 
 " I don't like it at all," said Aline. " Oh ! now 
 we are going down the hill, on a green, rutty 
 road. Is that your house, Mr. Bull ?" 
 
 " That is the Downs Farm, my dear, where I 
 hope you will be very happy." 
 
 " I am sure I shall. It looks like a bird's nest, 
 and the thatched roof like the tree in which it is 
 built. It is at the very foot of the hill, mamma, 
 so the winds will not hurt your eyes. There is 
 a bow window looking into a garden. It is not 
 quite so large and handsome a farm as the Manor,
 
 24 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 is it, Mr. Bull ? but it looks much snugger and 
 more retired." 
 
 As the horse quickened his pace, Aline clapped 
 her hands, exclaiming at intervals, " I see a 
 bower, and an orchard, and ricks, — they are milk- 
 ing the cows on the other side ; how very de- 
 lightful !" 
 
 " We will alight at this little back gate, if 
 you please, madam," said Mr. Bull. " I am sorry 
 to say we can only get to our front door through 
 the barton, but the- little glass door at the back 
 will take you out into the garden, and up the 
 downs. Our roads are very bad; indeed we 
 have only field -lanes from the village any way. 
 Here's my missus." 
 
 A tall, thin woman walked up the path to the 
 wicket-gate. 
 
 "I hope you are not very tired, ladies," she 
 said ; " T am afraid you will find it very dull, 
 but I will do my best to make you comfortable. 
 How have you got on, grandfather ?" 
 
 " Capital, my dear ; I hope everything's ready." 
 
 "I think so. This way, my dear," said Mrs. 
 Bull to Aline, who was carefully leading her 
 mother along the narrow path. ''Dear heart!" 
 to Fluke, " does she always do it ?" 
 
 " She won't let any one else." ' 
 
 Mrs. Bull and Fluke fell behind.
 
 THE DOWNS FARM. 25 
 
 "You didn't exaggerate the lonesomeness of 
 the place, ma'am, I see," said the latter. 
 
 " No, ma'am, we see nobody but the farm 
 people and the animals ; and nothing but the 
 hills and fields. I hope you don't mind the 
 country — there's always plenty going on." 
 
 " I caan't say I like it much ; I hope 'tisn't 
 'aunted, that's all." 
 
 Mrs. Bull would have been a study for a 
 painter. Every one said she was the most 
 beautiful woman ever seen, and that she and her 
 husband were a pattern pair both in looks and 
 conduct. She had a calm, pale face, a serene 
 mouth, very dark blue eyes emitting a tranquil 
 light like an autumn sunset, two bands of silver 
 hair, and a tall erect figure. She wore a plain 
 white muslin cap, with a border neatly plaited, 
 so as to set close round the face, a full white 
 muslin kerchief under the black silk gown, and 
 a white muslin apron. It was all so purely 
 white, that, as Aline whispered to her mother, 
 " she was like a tall white rose in the midst of 
 very dark leaves." 
 
 She led her lodgers up the path, to a glass 
 door that opened into a pretty parlour in which 
 was the bow-window aforesaid. White muslin 
 curtains, a white muslin blind, a white muslin 
 covering over the chintz sofa, and a white table-
 
 26 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 cloth made the parlour a fitting place for its 
 mistress. 
 
 " I thought you would like a fire after your 
 journey, madam," she said. " The evenings are 
 chill-like." 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Bull," said Madame Eam- 
 bouillet, in a voice that bespoke tears. 
 
 "Mamma," said Aline, hurriedly, "you must 
 not." 
 
 "Don't, my lady," exclaimed Fluke. "Tea is 
 ready; will you make it, Mrs. Bull, if you 
 please ?" 
 
 "And such butter and brown bread, and rich 
 cream and jam, and eggs waiting to be boiled ! 
 Oh ! Mamma, we shall be so happy !" said Aline. 
 
 " Will you walk upstairs first, ladies ?" said 
 Mrs. Bull. 
 
 They went upstairs into a room, where white 
 dimity curtains, white toilet cloths, and white 
 counterpane again befited Aline's white rose. 
 
 " May I kiss you, Mrs. Bull ?" said the child, 
 when her mamma was seated in a white easy 
 chair, her dark blue dress making a pretty con- 
 trast. '' You are so kind, and it is so nice." 
 
 Mrs. Bull stooped down, and Aline's arms 
 were round her neck in a moment. From that 
 first kiss the farmer's wife and the little maiden 
 were firm and loving friends.
 
 THE DOWNS FAKM. 27 
 
 Mrs. Bull went down into the hall, where 
 Jemima Lyons, her eldest grand-daughter, was 
 frying rashers of bacon and boiling eggs for tea. 
 
 This hall was an old-fashioned room, with a 
 large wood fire on the hearth ; a huge chimney- 
 corner big enough to hold the ten grand- 
 children ; an oaken settle half circling the fire ; 
 tables, arm-chairs, three-legged stools, bureau, 
 a ndresser, also of oak. It was very clean and 
 cheerful. On the bureau stood a large pile of 
 books, and on the window-seat several pots of 
 geraniums and other flowers. A handsome eight- 
 day clock ticked monotonously, and Time, with 
 large wings and a larger scythe, moved to and 
 fro with every vibration of the pendulum. The 
 window looked out into the barton, which was 
 railed off from the house, and beyond which was 
 a large orchard on one side, and up-sloping fields 
 on the other. An old sheep-dog lay on the 
 hearth before the fire, a huge black tom cat slept 
 on the settle ; and a very talkative jackdaw hung 
 in a cage near the window. 
 
 Jemima seemed particularly wrathful with the 
 dog, and was constantly waking him up by kicks, 
 and ** you're always in everybody's way, Wolf. 
 You might know what a fuss we're in." 
 
 Jemima was a dark, good-looking, rosy girl of 
 sixteen or thereabouts — very fussy apparently,
 
 28 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 and very smart, inasmuch as she made more 
 noise than was necessary, and wore a coral neck- 
 lace and coral earrings. 
 
 " I say, Joan !" she suddenly exclaimed, " come 
 quick and take off the kettle ! It's boiling over ! 
 and I can't dirty mj^self " 
 
 Then came in a girl even redder than herself, 
 who looked furtively round, and then ran quickly 
 across the room to the fire, and took off the 
 offending kettle. 
 
 "Lor, Miss Mima! 'Spose I should zee 'em 
 in this muck. What be 'em like ? John Dull 
 beant come back, and there be them mortal pigs 
 to zarve. Here be missus !" 
 
 " Gossiping, girls ? Come, make haste, Joan, 
 there's plenty to do," said Mrs. Bull. 
 
 "Iz, I knows, missus. And that John Dull 
 beant come whoam yet." 
 
 There was a sound of steps on the stairs, and 
 Joan took flight into the kitchen, through a door 
 that led into it from the hall ; but she stopped 
 when she got there, and peeped back at the 
 lodgers as they went into the parlour. 
 
 Madame Rambouillet and Aline were soon 
 seated at their ample tea, and Fluke was waitiDg 
 on them. It was she who carried all the plates, 
 &c., in and out, to the great disappointment of 
 Jemima, who had fully meant to do it.
 
 THE DOWXS FARM. 29 
 
 " I wouldn't have come if I had known," she 
 grumbled to Joan. ^' 'Tis no great amusement to 
 fry bacon. I do enough o' that at home." 
 
 **Lor! Miss Mima! There be goggles, and 
 a thing a moast as big as a bonnet front outsiden 
 'em. I 'spose her beant a servant as corned out 
 for the beacon." 
 
 Certainly Madame Rambouillet had a singular 
 effect. She sat at tea with her little daughter, 
 with very large blue spectacles under a very wide 
 blue shade, which effectually concealed the upper 
 half of her face, so that nothing was visible but 
 the point of a straight nose and a mouth, the ex- 
 pression of which was that of discontent. She 
 did not appear to be totally blind, as she managed 
 to feed herself with very slight help from Mrs. 
 Fluke. Her light hair was plaited in a very 
 broad plait at the back of her head, and she had 
 long, fair ringlets hanging down her pale cheeks. 
 Her hands were thin and white, and her long 
 neck was also very white, so that the dark blue 
 attire was very becoming. Distinguished-looking, 
 would be the term that many would use to de- 
 scribe her. She yielded to be waited upon both 
 by Fluke and her child quite as if it was natural 
 to her, and without apology or many thanks. 
 
 Her bonnet and blue veil were placed at her 
 side just as if she were already meditating a
 
 30 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHINa HAVE. 
 
 walk. This was, however, not the case ; for as 
 soon as she had finished an excellent meal — the 
 best, she said, that she had eaten for months — 
 she went to bed. John Dull had duly brought 
 the cart, and Fluke had unpacked and arranged 
 the night-gear. 
 
 Aline was so tired that she was fast asleep 
 almost before she was safely tucked by Fluke 
 into the little white bed near her mother's larger 
 one ; and Fluke was only too thankful to wish 
 them both good-night, and to go and have her 
 own tea, which good Mrs. Bull had kept warm 
 and comfortable for her.
 
 31 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE OLD BARONETCY. 
 
 "Perhaps, ina'am," said Mrs. Bull, as Fluke 
 entered the ball, ''you'd like to have your tea 
 here with my master in the chimney-corner ? It 
 seems more cheerful-like than the parlour." 
 
 "Thank you, ma'am," said Fluke. "Indeed 
 I should." 
 
 Fluke sat down upon the settle, and made 
 herself at home without further trouble. Mr. 
 Bull was already seated before a snug, round 
 table covered with a snow-white cloth, and such 
 a good tea as people only get under extra- 
 ordinary circumstances. Mrs. Bull and Jemima 
 joined the pair, and they soon became a sociable 
 party. 
 
 *'One can always drink tea," said Mrs. Bull, 
 apologetically. " This is my third. We had 
 ours, Jemima and I. This is my eldest grand- 
 daughter, ma'am."
 
 32 
 
 •' I should 'ave thought it was jour daughter," 
 said Fluke, astonished. 
 
 Jemima blushed and laughed, and said, "Well, 
 I think mother looks nearly as old as granny." 
 
 " There's a new cousin at home, Mima," said 
 Mr. Bull, and related what we already know of 
 young Lyons. 
 
 ''I must go home, grandfather," said Mima. 
 " Mother will be half wild with fright at a new 
 boy. It will be as bad as when the twins came, 
 and she cried till she made herself ill. And now 
 those miserable children are everything, and we 
 elders nothing." 
 
 " You shouldn't speak so, Jemima," said Mrs. 
 Bull. ''Your mother is a good deal tried with 
 such a family." 
 
 " And so is everybody else, I'm sure. But 
 please to tell me about this cousin, grandfather, 
 and then I'll go, for I know Kezia and Kern won't 
 know what to do with mother ; she'll be so cross." 
 
 "You know a'most as much as I do, Jemima. 
 Your uncle Dick went to a grammar-school, and 
 set up for a gentleman. All the eldest sods of 
 the Lyonses have for generations, on account of 
 that old baronet your father is always talking 
 about." 
 
 "Well, you know, we are an old family, 
 grandfather," said Jemima.
 
 THE OLD BARONETCY. 33 
 
 "So you are, my dear. Adam was a long 
 way back, and you come straight from him. 
 But Dick wouldn't take to farming, and they 
 couldn't afford to make a parson or a doctor of 
 him, so he would be a gentleman, which seems 
 to me nowadays to mean being just nothing at 
 all but an idler. However, Dick thought he 
 should like to have somebody to keep him, so he 
 made up to Miss Love, the captain's first cousin, 
 who had a thousand pounds, independent of her 
 aunts. I believe he got round her by his good 
 looks, and telling her that he was a baronet. 
 At any rate she married him in spite of her 
 proud old father. Squire Daw, and his stiff 
 daughters. The Cap 'en and his wife, too, were 
 uncommon angry, and, I dare say, won't like 
 the young chap coming back. 
 
 "Dick didn't find that he could live like a 
 gentleman in England on the thousand pounds, 
 so he carried it and his wife to Australia. She 
 was a very pretty, nice young woman, but not 
 much fit for a settler. Everybody was mad 
 about Australia, and thought they'd pick up a 
 hundred thousand pounds there in no time ; so 
 Dick said he'd claim his title when he came 
 back, and soon show the Daws who was grandest. 
 
 " But he never did come back, poor fellow. 
 Your father heard from him two or three times 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 along at first, when he said he was doing won- 
 ders ; but for the last ten or twelve years he 
 never heard anything at all. And now here's 
 his son, a likely lad of fifteen or sixteen, come 
 home instead of 'un, with a box full of geological 
 specimens — so he told me — and nothing else, 111 
 be bound. Dear ma'am ! you aren't eating any- 
 thing. Grandmother, why don't you see to 
 Mrs. Fluke ?" 
 
 "I can't prevail on her to take any more. 
 Do, ma'am, try another egg or a slice of ham. 
 I hope your tea was agreeable ?" 
 
 " I never made such a tea in my life, ma'am. 
 But, sir, excuse my making so bold as to ask 
 what you meant by the baronet," said Mrs. Fluke. 
 
 *' I know about that, granny," said Jemima? 
 "so I will go now. I'll send Kern over to- 
 morrow with the news. I wonder what cousin's 
 like !" 
 
 Jemima disappeared to put on her bonnet. 
 
 '*Not if it is a secret, sir, of course," said 
 Fluke, who was already dying of curiosity about 
 her new acquaintances. 
 
 " No secret in the world, ma'am. Everybody 
 has known it and laughed at it for generations ; 
 but I've remarked, even in this out-of-the-way 
 place — and I was never more than twenty miles 
 away from it in my life—that a bit of blood
 
 THE OLD BARONETCY. 35 
 
 sticks by a man for ever, whether it came to him 
 because his forefather was a murderer or a 
 baronet. Dick and Job Lyons's great-great- 
 great - great - great - grandfather — five greats, I 
 think it is — was a live baronet. He had four 
 sons, and very little money, so the story goes ; 
 and indeed the baronet-book tells of the sons. 
 The youngest son was a bit of a scamp, and went 
 off to America, where, it seems to me, all the 
 scamps go. It must be a nice country by this 
 time. But Australia's beginning to carry off 
 some of 'em now as well as the convicts. I hope 
 you haven't any relations there, ma'am ?" 
 
 " I dare say I 'ave, sir ; but if I 'ave I don't 
 know 'em," said Mrs. Fluke. 
 
 " You'll excuse Joan and me clearing the 
 table, ma'am ?" said Mrs. Bull. 
 
 " To be sure. No ceremony. And the 
 baronet, sir?" 
 
 " Well, whilst the youngest son was away, the 
 father and the three other brothers died, having 
 spent all they had, and sold the property. Most 
 of this manor belonged to the family in those 
 days ; but Mr. Nux, a London chemist, bought 
 the part of it that this farm is in, and his son 
 bought a baronetcy, and so, I suppose, one nail 
 knocked out the other. Squire Daw bought the 
 Yeo portion of the estate. The youngest sod,
 
 36 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 who was now the baronet, never came back ; but 
 his son did, who knew and proved that he was 
 the right Sir Eichard Lyons, but he had no 
 money to support the title. 
 
 "He was a bit of a farmer, and somehow 
 managed to take the Manor Farm, which had 
 been the family seat, but was already going 
 down in the world, like its former owners. In 
 that farm some or other of the Lyonses have 
 lived ever since. It was always let from father 
 to son, but not always to the eldest ; oftener to a 
 younger one, because the eldest managed to keep 
 in his head this notion about the title, and was 
 for making a gentleman of himself. I can re- 
 member three generations of Lyonses, and ray 
 father and grandfather half a dozen more ; so we 
 can trace back, ourselves, as far as the son that 
 came from Americay, and settled here. The 
 title has been always a joke down here in the 
 country, and people used to call them 'Sir 
 Richard ' for fun sometimes ; not but everybody 
 has a notion that they come of better stuff than 
 the rest of us. And there is a look about 'em 
 all, above the common. Job, when you see him 
 in his Sunday best, looks the gentleman, and my 
 missus and I can't help being proud of him, 
 though he's as lazy a chap as need be. I only 
 hope the new lad won't be like the rest of 'em.
 
 THE OLD BARONETCY. 37 
 
 Perhaps another country may have turned the 
 blood a bit." 
 
 Here, the tea-things being cleared away, the 
 table wiped, and a pipe and tobacco-box placed 
 upon it, Mrs. Bull brought her knitting, and sat 
 down in one of the arm-chairs in the chimney- 
 corner by her husband's side. 
 
 " I hope you don't object to smoking, Mrs. 
 Fluke ?" said Mr. Bull. 
 
 "Not at all, sir. I think it's agreeable and 
 sociable of an evening. I haven't felt so com- 
 fortable for these many years." 
 
 '' I am very glad of that," said Mrs. Bull. 
 "And now, without wishing to be curious, I 
 should like to know how my daughter in London 
 came to know your lady, for she don't say in her 
 letter." 
 
 " Well, ma'am, her husband. Dr. Dove, is a 
 celebrated oculist, as you know of course, being 
 his mother-in-law." 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Bull, " Tom Dove is a good 
 fellow ; he went to London and got on, and then 
 came back and married our Susan, his first love." 
 
 " Dear ! how pretty ! And he was very kind 
 to my lady ; he said she must be kept quiet, and 
 go into the country for change of air. We 'ad 
 just come from Boulone, and hadn't been in 
 England for some years, so we didn't know where
 
 38 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 to go. Dr. Dove said he thought his wife might 
 know of a nice lodging down in Dorsetshire, so I 
 suppose he asked her ; for a few days after, he 
 said that his father-in-law was willing to take us 
 for a few months : and really, sir, I was sur- 
 prised !'' 
 
 ''Well you might," said Mr. Bull, bluntly. 
 
 " You see," said Mrs. Bull, " Susan wrote as 
 if Tom thought it rather a pitiful case, and said 
 there was a dear orphan child." 
 
 " Humph !" grunted Mrs. Fluke. 
 
 " And begged me to try to get a nice lodging 
 here in the country. Parson Lane has the only 
 lodging I know of, and I didn't like to refuse Tom, 
 so I thought I might oblige him, do a good turn, 
 and buy a few presents for Rhoda's children, by 
 taking your lady myself. You know, you didn't 
 make any objections, grandfather." 
 
 " The women always turn me round their 
 finger, Mrs. Fluke." 
 
 " And you know, grandfather, that you said it 
 might be cheerful for me after our sorrow, and 
 turn my mind away from it ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes ; you needn't give all the reasons 
 at once. You women are very open-mouthed. 
 Mrs. Fluke, I'll be bound you'll know all our 
 family history before to-morrow night !" 
 
 "Oh, I'm not inquisitive, sir," said Mrs.
 
 THE OLD BAROJ^ETCY. 39 
 
 Fluke, who was longing to ask what the 
 " sorrow " was, but refrained. 
 
 '' Then I'm glad to know you, ma'am ; for 
 you're the first woman I ever heard of that 
 wasn't." 
 
 "Well, sir, for my own part, I like every- 
 thing open and straightforward ; but we can't 
 have it so in this world, so we must make the 
 best of it, and learn to 'old our tongues." 
 
 " You're a sensible woman, ma'am, and I wish 
 all your sex were of the same opinion, — my good 
 wife amongst 'em." 
 
 "Now, grandfather, you know that I am no 
 more inquisitive than my neighbours," said Mrs. 
 Bull ; " but whilst we are talking, I should just 
 like to ask Mrs. Fluke a little about Madam 
 Rambully and that dear little girl, if it is 
 allowable." 
 
 " I wish it was allowable, ma'am," said Mrs. 
 Fluke, — her manner as candid, and the expression 
 of her face as open, as if she were going at once to 
 reveal all the family secrets of her mistress, — "but, 
 at present, my lady wishes to live quite private. 
 Of course, Dr. Dove's recommendation to you is 
 enough for your satisfaction, and it caun't matter 
 to anybody else w'ether she is French or English 
 — w'ether her husband is alive or dead, or no- 
 thing at all, indeed, since we don't want to know
 
 40 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 any neighbours, rich or poor, — more especially 
 rich. I may sa}^, she is a lady, as anybod}^ may 
 see ; and if they want to know or see more, why 
 they caunt, nor won't !" 
 
 " Bravo, ma'am," said Mr. Bull, laughing, and 
 striking the table with his fist. " Now, missus, 
 there'll be plenty to set all Yeo on fire. I can 
 hear the daws and the magpies chattering al- 
 ready! Such a nest-egg for three months to 
 come, if so be we keep together so long." 
 
 "I'm quite willing," resumed Mrs. Fluke, 
 "that they should know all about me that I 
 know about myself, if that may be any pleasure 
 to them, and that's nothing at all. I never 'ad a 
 father, or mother, or a relation in the world that 
 I know of. I 'aven't got no lovers, and shouldn't 
 'ave anything to do with 'em if I 'ad. I 'ates 
 man, as a general rule, present company excepted, 
 of course. I've been in France, and Italy, and 
 Scotland, and England, and found them all the 
 same ; great talkers and little doers ; very cross 
 to their wives — present company excepted, I 
 must say again, as far as I've observed to-day, — 
 and worse than the women, it's my firm belief, 
 in ninety-nine cases out of an 'undred. I 'aven't 
 'ad any experience in my own person, but this 
 is what I've observed in my travels. And now, 
 ma'am, if you'd excuse me, I think I should like
 
 THE OLD BARONETCY. 41 
 
 to go to bed, as I've been fussing from six 
 o'clock this morning. Good night, sir. I 'ope 
 you won't think the worse of me for what I've 
 said of myself." 
 
 "Not at all, ma'am," said Mr. Bull, getting 
 up to wish his guest good-night, and shaking 
 hands with her. " She's a queer customer, 
 though, I take it," he added, to himself, when 
 she had left the room. 
 
 "I should think so, grandfather," said Mrs. 
 Bull. " I wish they had never come, with all 
 my heart ; — but I must just go and see if she's 
 comfortable, in spite of it." 
 
 Mrs. Bull followed Mrs. Fluke to a small, snug 
 bedroom, close to that of her mistress. Having 
 asked if she could be of any service, or if Mrs. 
 Fluke wanted anything, and being answered by a 
 gratefully-expressed negative, Mrs. Bull returned 
 to her husband. 
 
 " I don't know what to make of them," she 
 said. " Why did Tom let them come here ? To 
 have a blind woman and a mad woman upon 
 one's hands at once is too much of a good thing !" 
 
 ''Your own fault, my dear," said Mr, Bull. 
 "But the good lady's no more mad than thee, 
 and a great deal more wide awake. Dostn't see 
 that she wants to bamboozle us country bump- 
 kins. They choose that nobody shall know any-
 
 42 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 thing about 'em, and so they won't say anything 
 about themselves. That's wise, I think." 
 
 '' Except lies, my dear. No father or mother ! 
 why, it's quite shocking ! They shan't stay a 
 day longer than the two months — you know, 
 Daniel, it is impossible. Never had a father or 
 mother ! The woman must be mad !" 
 
 " At any rate, we are mad to be sitting up so 
 late. I dare say things'll look different in the 
 morning, they always do by daylight. Let's go 
 to bed." 
 
 And to bed they went.
 
 43 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 TEN LITTLE AXGELS. 
 
 We left Lachlan Lyons at the door of the Manor 
 Farm, surrounded by his newly-found relations. 
 His uncle read the letter he had brought, and in 
 doing so, more than once drew his hand across 
 his eyes. Then he told his nephew that he 
 must come into the house and see his aunt. 
 When the loud call of "Ehoda" resounded 
 through the house, a woman appeared with a 
 baby in each arm. She followed her husband 
 and children into a large hall, asking what they 
 wanted. 
 
 " Here's my brother Dick's son, come all the 
 way from Australia to pay us a visit/' said Mr. 
 Lyons, pointing to the boy. 
 
 " How d'ye do ? You see I can't shake hands 
 with you, because of these little angels," said 
 IVIrs. Lyons. " How did you leave your father 
 and mother ? I suppose they're rich people by 
 this time ?"
 
 44 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 " They're both dead, Ehoda," said Mr. Lyons, 
 softly, while tears sprang into Lachlan's eyes. 
 
 " Dead ? Bless me ! But I haven't time to 
 talk now ; everything is always left for me to do. 
 There's Mima gone away, and Kern good for 
 nothing, and Kezia and the boys I don't know 
 where. I am sure I'm very glad to see you for 
 a visit, and hope you'll make yourself at home 
 for a week or so. You'll have ten cousins to 
 amuse you. Kezia ! Kezia ! Kezia ! — come and 
 get the tea, whilst I quiet Jacob and Esau. 
 Bless their little hearts, — how they do cry !" 
 
 At this juncture Kezia came into the room. 
 She was in person very much like her grand- 
 father, and rather a pretty-looking girl of fifteen. 
 
 " Kezia, get the tea, and see to your cousin," 
 said Mrs. Lyons. 
 
 " Who is it ?" whispered Kezia to Kern. 
 
 Kern told her. 
 
 She went up to Lachlan, held out her hand, 
 and said — 
 
 " How d ye do, cousin ? I am very glad to see 
 you. So we are all, I'm sure, only mother's too 
 busy to say so." 
 
 Mr. Lyons slunk away when he saw Kezia 
 shaking hands with Lachlan, who had been stand- 
 ing like one in a dream in the midst of his rela- 
 tions.
 
 TEN LITTLE ANGELS. 45 
 
 "Thank you, cousin," said he, looking into 
 Kezia's pleasant face. 
 
 " There now, do get the tea, Kezia. The poor 
 lad must be famishing. I hope you'll make 
 yourself at home whilst you stay here, my dear ; 
 but you see we're so many that you must take 
 your chances with your cousins. Do get away, 
 Ehoda. How can I take you up with Jacob and 
 Esau in my arms ? There Kern, hold Esau for 
 a minute, whilst I see what's the matter with 
 Ehoda. Dear me. She's hurt her head. Kezia ! 
 Kezia ! You must take Jacob." 
 
 " Shall I take him, aunt ?" said Lachlan, who 
 was laughing in spite of himself. 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Lyons, relinquishing the 
 roaring Jacob to him ; " that's more than ever 
 either of our boys did in their lives. They 
 always shirk the little angels. There, Jack! 
 Look at cousin nursing Jacob ! You ought to do 
 it for mother. See, he's quite quiet." 
 
 '*I'll do to tousin," cried Ehoda, jumping off 
 her mother's lap, and running to Lachlan. 
 
 " Perhaps you'd like to have Esau too," said 
 Kern, turning round a pair of singular-looking 
 eyes upon her cousin. 
 
 " I don't think I could nurse three, but I'll 
 try," said the boy, looking for the first time at 
 Kern.
 
 46 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 She carried the roaring baby to him with per- 
 fect gravity, and he was about to take it, when 
 the mother interfered, and asked Kern why she 
 could never make herself useful like any one else. 
 
 *'The twins don't like me, mother, and I hate 
 babies," was the reply. 
 
 '' The little angels ! you're an unnatural girl, 
 Kern. Well ! where are those two boys ? They 
 ought to be home from school by this time. 
 Jack, go and see if you can find Mark and Luke. 
 And tell father and Matthew that tea's ready. 
 Now, Kern; do go and help Molly with the 
 milking. There's Kezia has tea ready in no 
 time, and you never do anything ; and Jemima 
 away, and your cousin come, and poor dear 
 Mrs. Eaven dead, and mother having those 
 lodgers, and the twins so cross, and everything 
 to fret one.'* 
 
 " I hope you like nursing, cousin," said Kern, 
 paying no attention to her mother's orders. 
 
 *^ Tea's ready, so pray give me the baby, 
 cousin," said Kezia, taking the now crowing 
 Jacob from Lachlan. To the general comfort, 
 she soon put him to sleep, and into a cradle in 
 the corner of the room. 
 
 Mr. Lyons and his eldest son Matthew now 
 came in, and were soon followed by Jack and 
 two other boys, who both exclaimed —
 
 TEX LITTLE ANGELS. 47 
 
 " Where's our new cousin ?" and began star- 
 ing at him with four large black eyes. 
 
 Matthew shook hands with him, and informed 
 him that he was glad to see him, because he 
 wanted to hear all about Australia, where he was 
 going. 
 
 " Now, Matthew, don't be talking of that again. 
 You'll be the death of your poor mother, you 
 know you will," said Mrs. Lyons, beginning to 
 cry. 
 
 *^He don't mean it, Rhoda," growled Mr. 
 Lyons. 
 
 " But I do, father," began Matthew, when 
 Kezia begged them all to sit down to tea. 
 
 During the meal, Lachlan had time to look at 
 his relations. He had Jack and Ehoda on each 
 side of him, the school-boys opposite, and Kern 
 not far off, who glanced at him when she was 
 quite sure he was not looking at her. He formed 
 much the same notion of his uncle, aunt, and 
 cousins, that I should have done at first sights 
 which was as follows : 
 
 Mr. Lyons was a good-looking, dark man, with 
 rather a cross expression of face. " Bothered," 
 would, perhaps, be a better term than cross. He 
 evidently felt his ten children a heavy load. The 
 twinkle in the corner of the eye, denoting that 
 fun was somewhere to be found in him, did not
 
 48 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 agree with this other, and perhaps, less natural 
 expression. He was evidently careless in his 
 dress and appearance, still he had the air of a 
 gentleman, spoke very good grammar, and gave 
 one the idea that he had received at least a 
 tolerable education. 
 
 His wife, who had been probably once like her 
 father, had lost his pleasant expression, and 
 gained in its place, one of discontent and peevish- 
 ness. She was fretful both in manner and face. 
 
 Matthew, the eldest born, was a fine, manly 
 youth of eighteen, with some intelligence, and 
 much determination in his clear grey eyes. 
 
 Jemima we were introduced to at the Downs 
 Farm, although Lachlan was not. 
 
 Kezia looked, and apparently was, the good girl 
 of the family. Most families have, fortunately, 
 one such good girl in them, who is generally the 
 household drudge : a willing one it may be, and 
 therefore a happy one, but still the drudge. 
 Hers was a face you could look at with pleasure. 
 Gentle, frank, and honest, you felt that you could 
 trust it. 
 
 The third girl, Kern's, was more enigmatical. 
 She possessed all the beauty of her grandmother. 
 Lachlan could not help looking at her again and 
 again, and she was conscious that he did so. She 
 had changed her frock, arranged her hair, and
 
 TEN LITTLE ANGELS. 49 
 
 generally adorned herself since he saw her first ; 
 and he thought he had never seen any girl so hand- 
 some before. She had a very light and graceful 
 figure, and was elegant in her general appearance. 
 
 Mark and Luke were rosy little men, who 
 talked about what Mr. Eagles had said to them, 
 and what Miss Eagles had said of Kern, because 
 she had not been to school — ate immoderately, 
 and stared at Lachlan. 
 
 Jack and Ehoda were a couple of spoilt chil- 
 dren, but certainly paid Lachlan more attention 
 than any one else except Kezia. They forced 
 eggs and ham, bread and butter, cream and 
 sugar, upon him, whether he would have them or 
 not, and nobody attempted to check them. 
 
 The twins were so much alike that it was im- 
 possible to distinguish Esau from Jacob. They 
 were fretful children, and seemed to be imbibing 
 more of their mother's temperament than the 
 rest had done, who were, on the whole, good- 
 humoured enough, though each with a will of his 
 own. 
 
 The hall in which they were assembled, was 
 a fine relic of a past age and old manorial 
 splendour. The walls were covered with black 
 panelled oak ; the ceiling was handsomely orna- 
 mented with wreaths and groups of wood carving, 
 and two or three half-defaced family portraits in 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 NOTHINa VENTURE, NOTHINa HAVE. 
 
 frames, that once were white, hung upon the 
 panels. A huge, carved mantelpiece surmounted 
 the wide space that led into the chimney corner, 
 if indeed corner that could be called, which was 
 in itself a small room ; and the customary settle 
 half encircled it. The floor was also of oak, but 
 not polished, as in the days of the baronets. A 
 large latticed window with massive stone frame- 
 work, looked into the garden and up to the 
 church, with two oriel windows nearly opposite, 
 looking down upon sloping fields through which 
 ran the river Yeo. 
 
 The room and its inmates had a curious air of 
 faded aristocracy. Years and years ago, the 
 ancestors of ' those same people, must have lived 
 in that same hall under very different circum- 
 stances ; and Lachlan pictured to himself stately 
 ladies in stiff brocades, and gentlemen in breeches 
 and knee-buckles, where he now saw his yeoman 
 relatives. 
 
 When tea was over, the farm- work done, the 
 twins both asleep, and twilight come on, there 
 was a temporary quiet in that ancient room, and 
 the picture deepened into reality. All the party 
 crowded round the cheerful fire on the hearth. 
 In two old carved, high-bacl^ed oak chairs, which 
 had, for some reason or other, always been let 
 with the house, the master and mistress sat.
 
 TEN LITTLE ANGELS. 51 
 
 opposite one another. The children lounged 
 on the settle, climbed their parents' knees, or 
 crouched on low stools, as suited their fancy; 
 whilst Lachlan found himself on a small bench 
 in the corner, with his cousin Kern by his side, 
 and his uncle next to them. Kezia had one 
 of the twins on her lap, and her mother the 
 other. 
 
 The flames from the large logs of wood that 
 lay across the two bright steel dogs on the hearth 
 threw a glow on the faces of the young people, 
 and a dim, mysterious light on the dark walls 
 and ceiling behind them. To Lachlan, who had 
 been accustomed to a settler's life in huts or 
 tents, this sort of room was as new as were the 
 faces and manners of his relations ; and he peered 
 from corner to corner, and from figure to figure 
 with an inquisitive gaze that seemed to amuse his 
 cousin Kern, who watched him incessantly. 
 
 As they were obliged to be tolerably quiet 
 whilst Mr. Lyons took his evening nap, there was 
 time for observation ; but he awoke up suddenly, 
 and startled the party by saying, '' Now, Dick, 
 tell us about Australia." 
 
 " My name is Lachlan, uncle." 
 
 " What ! where did you get such an outlandish 
 name ?" 
 
 '' My father thought Richard had been always 
 
 LIBRARY -.-— ^.. 
 UNIVERSITY OF fUfW'^"'
 
 52 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHINa HAVE. 
 
 unlucky, so he christened me after an Australian 
 river, on the banks of which I was born." 
 
 " On the bank of a river ?" 
 
 " Yes ; in a tent." 
 
 The attention of the whole part}^ was effectu- 
 ally aroused, and Lachlan Lyons was questioned 
 and cross-questioned by his relations, concerning 
 his own and his parents' history, in a way that 
 it would be tedious to pursue in his and their 
 words ; so I will give the substance of the con- 
 versation in my own. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Lyons, Lachlan's parents, were 
 amongst the earliest settlers in that part of Aus- 
 tralia, where they first pitched their tent. The 
 country was then little known ; -and as Mr. Lyons 
 was a man of adventure, rather than of plodding 
 industry, he roved about from place to place with 
 the various explorers; who went, one after 
 another, to trace the sources of rivers, and 
 to make this continent better known to the 
 world. 
 
 Shortly after he and his wife reached Aus- 
 tralia, Lachlan was born on the banks of the 
 river, the name of which was given to him. 
 
 His mother, always a delicate woman, could 
 not stand the hard, unsettled life to which she 
 was subjected, and died about three years after 
 his birth. As long as she lived, Mr. Lyons tried
 
 TEX LITTLE ANGELS. 53 
 
 his best to get on as a farmer, and to acquire the 
 fortune he emigrated, professedly, to seek ; but, 
 when she was removed, he let his more natural 
 bent have way, and, accompanied by his boy, 
 wandered about from place to place. 
 
 In this way he gained a good deal of know- 
 ledge both of the country and aborigines, which 
 was frequently of great service to others, whose 
 express object was discovery ; whilst to himself 
 it procured the excitement of change, and a cer- 
 tain reputation. Everybody knew that he was, 
 by right, a baronet, and accorded him the rank he 
 so much coveted. He assumed and retained his 
 title ; and, by its aid, became a man of some 
 mark, inasmuch as people fancied he too was an 
 explorer. 
 
 Lachlan grew up, under these auspices, a 
 daring, self-dependent boy. He had seen men of 
 learniug and note, and been noticed by them ; 
 and had been mixed up as a child with the expe- 
 ditions of Captain Sturt and Major Mitchell, and 
 had imbibed, not only their love of discovery, but 
 some of their knowledge. He had acquired a 
 taste for geology and engineering, and had picked 
 up a certain desultory education, and a smatter- 
 ing, at least, of most things. 
 
 But, when he was about fifteen, his father died, 
 and left his commands upon him to return to
 
 54 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 England, to seek out liis uncle, and never to 
 forget the baronetcy. 
 
 So he gathered his few effects together, packed 
 up a large chest of specimens, and worked his 
 way home from Australia, in a merchant vessel. 
 
 As he could turn his hand to anything, he had 
 found friends on his voyage ; and amongst them, 
 some who had lent him books, which were almost 
 a novel luxury to him ; for of books his father 
 thought but little ; and to go to school, and pro- 
 cure new books were the great desires of his soul 
 when he arrived at Yeo. 
 
 He had seen so much, and had such a vivid 
 way of describing what he had seen, and the life 
 that he had lived, that all his hearers continued to 
 listen and question untiringly. His uncle forgot 
 his nap, his aunt forgot the twins, the cousins for- 
 got to squabble and dispute ; even Kezia forgot 
 her work to look at him, as he sat amongst them 
 telling his varied tale. 
 
 Jemima had returned, almost unnoticed, and 
 taken her place amongst them, soon forgetting 
 her displeasure at being told by her father to sit 
 down and not make a noise, in her interest in the 
 speaker. 
 
 There was a general demand for the box of 
 specimens, but this Lachlan refused to open so 
 late at night. He seemed to have a will of his
 
 TEN LITTLE ANGELS. 55 
 
 own, and to be resolved to assert his independ- 
 ence. He said that he had letters and small par- 
 cels from his father to the Miss Daws, Mrs. Love, 
 and one of the Mr. Bats, that he must deliver on 
 the morrow; also that he had left a beautiful 
 parrot, some small birds, a dog, and another box 
 of specimens, in the care of a sailor at South- 
 ampton, because he was afraid that his aunt 
 might not like to have them. 
 
 " Do you know anything about your rela- 
 tions ?" asked his uncle. " Because I should 
 take care how I went near them, if I were you." 
 
 " I only know that they are my relations, and 
 that my father told me to deliver his letters my- 
 self." 
 
 ^' Better not," said Mr. Lyons, shortly. He 
 had a curt manner always. " I'll give you a 
 hint. Your mother was the Miss Daws' niece, 
 and Mrs. Love's cousin. Mr. Nicholas Bat 
 wanted to marry her. Dick married her in spite 
 of them all. Daws, Bats, and Loves will look 
 but coldly upon you, I take it." 
 
 " I am better than they." 
 
 " How so ?" 
 
 *' Why, I am a baronet !" 
 
 " Ho, ho ! you're inoculated, I see. Better 
 leave that old story in Australia ; you'll only be 
 laughed at."
 
 06 NOTHINa VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 " I don't care for being laughed at. I am Sir 
 Lachlan Lyons, and everybody shall know that 
 before I die." 
 
 Mr. Lyons laughed a grim laugh, and the chil- 
 dren set up a general shout ; all save Kern, who 
 said quietly, " Quite right, cousin. I shall call 
 you Sir Lachlan always. How grand it sounds !" 
 " I hope hell get a new coat first," said Mat- 
 thew. 
 
 " And have his hair cut," quoth Mark. 
 " And learn to dance, and say ' How do,' like 
 young Nux," said Luke. 
 
 A great frown fell over Master Lachlan's face. 
 ''' My coat and hair have done for better people 
 than I am likely to meet here," he said ; " and 
 you'd all better beware how you bully me." 
 " By all means^ Sir' Lachlan," said Matthew. 
 *' Hold your tongues, boys," said Mr. Lyons. 
 " I suppose you have the family tree, nephew ?" 
 " Yes, uncle. Father gave it to me. He al- 
 ways carried it with him. I don't care for being 
 called Sir, cousin," he added, turning to Matthew, 
 '' but right's right, and I mean to fight for 
 mine." 
 
 " 'Twill be a lost battle, boy," said Mr. Lyons. 
 " Why, I dare say you haven't a pound in the 
 world ? " 
 
 '' Then I'll make one, uncle."
 
 TEN LITTLE ANGELS. 57 
 
 *' Ho, ho, ho !" laughed Mr. Lyons. 
 
 " I am sure that is not to be laughed at," said 
 Mrs. Lyons. " I wish our boys would make 
 money. They can all spend it fast enough. 
 There's that blessed Esau waking up; and 
 Jack and Ehoda fast asleep. Put them to bed, 
 Jemima — you've done nothing all day." 
 
 " Law, mother, I can't ! I haven't spoken to 
 cousin, yet. Kezia will go." 
 
 " Tell us about grandmother's lodgers, Mima," 
 said Luke. '' What are they like ?" 
 
 " I saw nothing but a blue woman, with a 
 great shade and goggles over her eyes, and a 
 little ugly girl. They shut themselves up in 
 the parlour, and their servant waited upon 
 them." 
 
 '' Do you call that an ugly little girl, cousin ?" 
 said Lachlan. " Why she's the prettiest young 
 lady I've seen since I've been in England." 
 
 Kern looked indignant. 
 
 " No great compliment to us," said Jemima, 
 laughing ; " and you must have queer beauties 
 in your country." 
 
 " Was that all you saw ?" asked Matthew. 
 
 " Yes ; except a lady's-maid, that grandmother 
 must needs ask to tea with us." 
 
 " I wouldn't have had my tea with the ser- 
 vant, if I couldn't have had it with the ladies,"
 
 58 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 said Kern. " Such a low thing of grandmother 
 to have lodgers at all ! I wonder Aunt Ann let 
 her do it." 
 
 " Now have your supper and go to bed, 
 children," said Mr. Lyons; and by degrees the 
 party broke up.
 
 59 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 alixe's discoveries. 
 
 " Mamma is asleep on the sofa, and I am going 
 to explore, Fluke," said Aline, on the afternoon 
 of the day after their arrival at the Downs. 
 
 " You shaun't go out by yourself, Miss Aline," 
 said Fluke. 
 
 '' Yes, I shall. Now don't make a noise and 
 wake mamma. I am not going out of sight of 
 thq house, and I shall have plenty to tell mamma 
 when I come in. I wish I could get this old dog 
 to move. Wolf — Wolf — come. Wolf." 
 
 " Wolf— Wolf— come. Wolf," shrieked a voice 
 from the hall. 
 
 " How rude," said Aline, looking round. 
 
 " T' only Jack, Miss/' said Joan, coming out 
 of the back kitchen and opening the jackdaw's 
 cage. 
 
 Out hopped Jack, perched upon Wolfs back.
 
 60 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 and succeeded in waking him up by pecking at 
 his hair. 
 
 " Here be zome meat, Miss ; him will do a 
 moast any thing for meat," said Joan. 
 
 Aline presented the meat at a distance, and 
 with a little management, succeeded in alluring 
 Wolf into the garden, with Jack demurely seated 
 on his back. Having divided the meat between 
 them^ she further coaxed them to follow her, and 
 in due course of time, had the satisfaction of 
 Jack's more intimate neighbourhood, for he 
 ended by allowing her to put him on her 
 shoulder. 
 
 Thus the trio began their acquaintance : but 
 before Aline finally left the garden she returned 
 Jack to his cage. 
 
 It was pretty to see her little quaint figure 
 moving about, with Jack on her shoulder, and 
 Wolf at her heels. We must, perforce, follow 
 her. 
 
 First into the little arbour of honeysuckles, 
 with its sweet perfume, and trim round arch. 
 Here she sat down a while, and talked to Jack. 
 Thence to the flower-beds that surrounded the 
 arbour. Here were large orange lilies, and 
 globed red peonies^ opening in their splendour; 
 purple columbines, and many-coloured polyan- 
 thuses in full bloom ; lavender, ever sweet, in
 
 aline's discoveries. 61. 
 
 profusion ; and an especial bed of lilies of the 
 valley, full of green leaves and pure white bells. 
 Behind the arbour, and hanging their blossoms 
 over it, were white and purple lilacs ; the yellow- 
 flowered barberry, the snow-balled gelderose, 
 the golden-drop laburnum, and the white elder. 
 Amongst these honied children of nature the bees 
 were buzzing, and above and around them the 
 birds were sioging in full chorus. 
 
 Somewhere at the back a brook was heard to 
 murmur, whither, led by its music. Aline repaired. 
 She found it bubbling briskly over its stony 
 antagonists, beneath hawthorn bushes in full 
 flower; maples, beeches, and mountain-ashes also 
 shooting forth their May adornments, with prim- 
 roses and violets at their feet. 
 
 What was there not in that farm-house garden 
 to rejoice such a child as Aline ? She resolved 
 at once to live and die at the Downs. 
 
 Here, again, were cherry-trees in profusion, 
 rich with their white promises of fruit ; raspberry, 
 gooseberry, and currant bushes, putting forth 
 their green foreshadows of future harvests ; and 
 the lowlier strawberry-blossom, equally prophetic. 
 
 Aline was through the little garden -gate and 
 up the Down, whilst Fluke was shaking her head 
 at her from under the thatch of her bedroom 
 window, where the swallows had just come home
 
 62 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 to their deserted nests, and were beginning, 
 industriously, to repair them. 
 
 Aline looked back and nodded, and then 
 stooped to gather some blue harebells that 
 sprung up at her feet. Once at the top of 
 that airy Down, how could the child best show 
 her joy at the exhilarating life she breathed? 
 By taking hold of Wolfs fore-paws, and danc- 
 ing with the old dog as long as he would 
 let her. 
 
 Then down again into the garden : one peep, 
 on tiptoe, into the parlour-window to see that her 
 mother was still sleeping; another nod in 
 answer to Fluke's remonstrance— and she was 
 through the house, and into the barton. She 
 ran across the barton — heedless of Mrs. Bull's 
 warning from the hall, that it was very dirty — 
 and reached the orchard. Here, again, was food 
 for delight. Over-head, the pink and white 
 coverlet of May, blooming; at her feet, the 
 sweet woodruf, and violets; on the trunks of 
 the old apple-trees, pale-green mistletoe in abund- 
 ance ; in the hedge-rows, foxgloves opening, wild 
 geraniums, and ragged-robins peeping out, and 
 hawthorn and honeysuckles everywhere. On one 
 side, again, the brook babbling its never-ceasing 
 tale of the seasons amongst the sedges ; and all 
 around the green meadows.
 
 aline's discoveries. 63 
 
 Following the brook, she found herself at the 
 end of the orchard, whence a stile and some large 
 stepping-stones led across the brook. She 
 thought she should be out of sight of the house 
 if she went further, so she turned, went through a 
 gate, and found herself in a large meadow in front 
 of the farm. Here the cows were quietly grazing. 
 She threaded her way amongst them till she came 
 to a gate on the opposite side, which led into a 
 rough field-lane, the only approach to the house. 
 At the bottom of this lane was a wide space, 
 crossed again by a shallow portion of the brook. 
 Here Aline paused and looked round her with 
 sudden awe. It was shadowed by six large, 
 thick elms, which cast their heavy gloom on the 
 hitherto merry little stream and seemed to terrify 
 it, as they did Aline, into temporary quiet ; for 
 it crept noiselessly across the way, quaint and 
 drear, and did not regain its spirits until it had 
 hidden itself among some brushwood on the 
 other side, and finally emerged at the foot of 
 another meadow. 
 
 At the left of this little weird dell was the 
 cheerful farm; on the right, an old dissenting 
 chapel. It was a curious spot for such a build- 
 ing ; but there it had been for more than a couple 
 of centuries, and thither itinerant preachers 
 occasionally repaired, to entice the church-goers
 
 64 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 from the Downs church on one side, and Yeo 
 on the other. 
 
 Aline climbed the little padlocked gate, and 
 went into the small enclosure that surrounded it, 
 where some five or six graves attested that it was a 
 chapel and not a farm -building. It was a gloomy 
 place. The elms cast their broad shadows on it 
 in front, and a small plantation of firs hedged it 
 in behind : still it was a quiet and solemn spot 
 for worship. 
 
 But Aline did not like it, and returning to the 
 lane, picked her way across the shallow brook on 
 some stepping-stones, and ran till she found herself 
 in the cheerful farm-yard at the side of the house. 
 
 Here she was happy again. Mrs. Bull made 
 her appearance with an apron full of grain, which 
 was soon transferred to Aline's large pinafore, 
 and she was feeding cocks and hens, geese and 
 turkeys, before she knew what she was about, 
 laughing heartily in her innocent glee. 
 
 Brightly did the May sun look down, across 
 hay-ricks and corn-stacks, barns and granaries — 
 upon the little maiden in her poked_, curtained 
 bonnet ; and brightly did her glad eyes return 
 his glance. 
 
 " Oh ! I am so happy, dear Mrs. Bull," was 
 all she could say. *' I hope mamma will be 
 happy, too."
 
 ALINES DISCOVERIES. 65 
 
 Mrs. Bull was going to call her husband in to 
 tea, and Aline went with her across another 
 gate, and into a ploughed field where the master 
 and some of his men were engaged in sowing 
 turnips. Aline reached him long before his wife 
 did, and taking his earth-covered hand, returned 
 with him to the farm-yard. 
 
 Here were Lachlan Lyons and Kern, just ar- 
 rived from Yeo. 
 
 Aline ran up to Lachlan, and said, ''How do 
 you do ? I hope your uncle was kind !" whilst 
 Kern spoke to her grandmother, and Mr. Bull 
 washed his hands in our friend — the brook — that 
 somehow had found its way into the farm-yard. 
 
 The two girls glanced at one another. 
 
 " Is that one of your cousins ?" asked Aline 
 of Lachlan, upon whom she evidently looked as 
 an old friend. " How very pretty she is !" 
 
 Lachlan seemed to have lost some of his 
 customary boldness, as he looked down upon the 
 child. He however answered her, and asked for 
 her mother. 
 
 "Oh! here is Fluke coming to look for me," 
 said Aline. "Good-bye. I hope they will be 
 kind to you. Good-bye, little girl," she added, 
 nodding to Kern. 
 
 " Why do you take up with those sort of 
 people ?" said Fluke. " I never saw such a child."
 
 66 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 "I think they are very nice people, Fluke. 
 I love Mr. and Mrs. Bull and that boy very 
 much already." 
 
 " Very quick work ; but your mamma's awake, 
 and wants you now. I hope you've had enough 
 ranting and tearing for one afternoon." 
 
 One other picture before we close this chapter. 
 
 Madame Eambouillet sat looking languid and 
 despondent, in a large, old-fashioned chair, by 
 the open window, her bonnet and veil, as usual, 
 by her side. She was dressed with exquisite 
 neatness, and her hair smooth in plait and curls 
 as softest silk. Still the dark blue dress and 
 shade. 
 
 "How long? how long?" she muttered to 
 herself. " Have I found rest here ? Or must I 
 wander about for ever, blind and worse than 
 widowed? Faith will not come to me — hope 
 cannot. Patience and resignation, I know them 
 not. But rest! There is something gained in 
 this external peace and quiet. Something in 
 hearing those birds sing and feeling this spring 
 air, once more in England. But, beyond this, to 
 have nothing to cheer or brighten life, is hard 
 indeed !" 
 
 Blind mother ! how could you say those last 
 words? Just as they were said, or thought, 
 Aline's arms were around her neck, and her
 
 aline's discoveries. 67 
 
 warm kisses on her lips. She, too, had been 
 made neat as the trimmest of young ladies, 
 before she joined her mother. She brought with 
 her sprays of every flower she had seen. She 
 put them into her mother's hand, on her lap, in 
 her bosom. Violets, lilacs, lilies of the valley, 
 exhaled their varied odours for the blind lady, 
 and seemed to give her momentary pleasure. 
 Soon the old-fashioned china cups that adorned 
 the mantelpiece were filled, and scattered about 
 the pretty room by Aline's busy fingers, she 
 meanwhile, describing vividly everything she was 
 doing — each flower as she arranged it. 
 
 Then she sat down at her mother's feet, and 
 minutely told her all she had seen that after- 
 noon. The objects I have feebly tried to describe 
 grew into life out of the loving mind of the little 
 girl. 
 
 Then she fetched in Jack ; but Jack, as is usual 
 on such occasions, would not make himself agree- 
 able, and would not take to the mother as he 
 had done to the child, but screamed so loud 
 that they were obliged to send him back to his 
 cage. Then Wolf was tried, who was equally 
 intractable, and preferred the chimney corner in 
 the hall to the parlour carpet. Finally, at 
 Aline's urgent request, Tom was brought in. 
 He being of a softer temperament, seemed to
 
 68 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 like madame's silk gown, and settled himself 
 very comfortably on her lap, to Aline's great joy, 
 who rewarded him by a saucerfuU of fresh milk 
 at tea-time. This, however, did not give him 
 the pleasure that it would have afforded a less 
 fortunate animal. "Her was a'moast tired of 
 milk," Joan said; "her was zo creazed." Tom 
 took after his mistress, who didn't like cream in 
 her tea, she supposed, because she had seen so 
 much of it all her life, and had had so much 
 work to turn it into butter. Something like 
 cooks, who never enjoy the meat they have 
 dressed.
 
 69 
 
 CHAPTER YL 
 
 RICH RELATIONS. 
 
 " How d'ye do, Aunt Ann ? Very well, thank 
 you. How d'ye do. Aunt Margery ? Very well, 
 thank you. How d'ye do, Aunt Harriet ? Yery 
 well, thank you. The Captain's as cross as he 
 can be, my dear. The gout in his little toe 
 just now. I wish there was no such a thing in 
 the world as toes. I can't stay a minute, but 
 I just slipped in to see you, and ask about 
 the news, and whether you have heard that 
 Dick Lyons's son — poor Sophy, you know, — 
 I could never look upon him as her husband, 
 or the boy as her son — yes, really, my dears, 
 this boy is come home from Australia, and come 
 straight to Mr. Lyons's, as if he hadn't children 
 enough already We don't mean to notice him 
 in any way ; and we feel sure you don't. Mar- 
 garet Ann saw him, and says he is a shal^by- 
 looking, common boy ; and we have told her
 
 70 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 and Eobert not to take any notice of him. And 
 the Captain says— oh ! if you could but know 
 how cross he has been! swearing over that 
 article in the 'Dorset Director,' and declaring 
 he'll horsewhip the Editor ! But I really can't 
 stay. Oh ! have you heard about the lodgers at 
 the Downs Farm? They say they're French. 
 So odd of Mrs. Bull to have such people down 
 here. Nobody knows what they are; and of 
 course nobody will think of calling. I asked 
 Farmer Bull about them just now. I went for 
 a walk over the Downs into his turnip fields, 
 where I knew he was, — for I was determined to 
 find out something, — and all he knew was, that 
 their name was Eambully — such a name — not 
 French, I am sure, — and that they were very 
 grand people, come over here on account of some 
 French revolution — and the Captain says there's 
 no revolution in France at all now, though there 
 may be to-morrow, for that much, which is all 
 the same, — and that their maid — I don't believe 
 she is their maid — ladies with maids don't come 
 into such lodgings. But you know Farmer Bull ; 
 one can never find out whether he's joking or 
 not. But I shan't call, unless they bring intro- 
 ductions. I declare I must go. What will the Cap- 
 tain think ? Oh, I suppose you know the funeral's 
 to be on Friday. I suppose you'll put on black,
 
 RICH RELATIONS. 71 
 
 out of compliment ? I shall. They say there's 
 no comforting Mr. Eaven. His sister Ellen's 
 come ; and what use can she be with those 
 troublesome children ? But you've been there, 
 haven't you, Aunt Harriet ? The Captain thought 
 it was rather soon. But do tell me about them, 
 please ?" 
 
 As Mrs. Love, the lady who made the above 
 rapid speech, was suddenly brought to a halt by 
 an impulse of curiosity, we, too, must pause a 
 moment to recover our breath, before proceeding 
 further. 
 
 Mrs. Love had come to call on her aunts, the 
 three Miss Daws. She was a portly woman, 
 with a pert, but good-natured expression of 
 countenance. The aspiring turn of her nose 
 probably deserved the former adjective, and her 
 round, rosy cheeks the latter. 
 
 Her three aunts were remarkable in their way. 
 Miss Ann Daw was tall, thin, and stately, sharp- 
 featured, and deep-voiced. Miss Margaret Daw, 
 — or, as she was familiarly called, Margery, it 
 was supposed in memory of her celebrated name- 
 sake — was so like Miss Ann that she does not 
 require a second description. They were dressed 
 alike, in dark brown silk gowns, fitting tightly 
 to the shape ; very large lace caps surrounding 
 their faces like wings ; enormous white collars,
 
 72 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 reaching in points to their shoulders, on either 
 side of the neck, and light brown fronts, with 
 short curls. 
 
 Miss Harriet Daw was, in appearance, very 
 different from her sisters. She was a mild and 
 gentle-looking woman, attired in a grey silk 
 gown of less tight fit, and a cap and collar of 
 smaller dimensions. She wore her own hair, 
 in curls, and it was rather grey, as if to match 
 her dress. Perhaps she was pretty in her youth, 
 perhaps she was not ; perhaps she was crossed in 
 love, perhaps she never had a lover ; we specu- 
 late, it matters not much. But she had a calm 
 serenity about her face which was all but an- 
 gelic. 
 
 The room in which these ladies sat was stiff 
 and gloomy. It looked out upon a lawn at the 
 back of the house, at the end of which, on an 
 elevation, grew the dark trees that had displeased 
 Aline. In these trees some half-dozen rooks 
 had made their abode for generations, and in 
 their perpetual caw, caw, the Misses Daw found 
 a music as aristocratic as it was pleasing. If the 
 mischievous boys of the village did all they 
 could to frighten these sacred birds, the ladies 
 did their best to re-assure them ; and not un- 
 frequently Mr. Raven was called in to settle 
 accounts with Daws and rooks versus his young
 
 RICH RELATIONS. 73 
 
 parishioners. It may be well imagined that 
 various puns were afloat touching these dark- 
 feathered birds. 
 
 Miss Harriet was just beginning to explain to 
 her niece that she had been to the Yicarage to 
 see if she could be of any use to the poor 
 mourners, when a double knock resounded 
 through the house. 
 
 A man servant in brown livery appeared, with 
 a suppressed grin on his face, and announced, 
 looking at Miss Daw as he did so, '' Sir Lackle- 
 lans, ladies." 
 
 " Who ?" ejaculated the Misses Daw and Mrs. 
 Love, in a breath. 
 
 " I don't know, ma'.am. 'Tis a boy, and that's 
 what he said." 
 
 " Show him in," said Miss Ann, adjusting her 
 collar and taking off her spectacles. 
 
 Our young friend Lachlan appeared, with a 
 letter in his hand. They all stared at him with- 
 out speaking, except Miss Harriet, who rose, 
 bowed, and put him a chair. 
 
 Miss Ann and Miss Margery were sitting side 
 by side at a round table, with work-baskets 
 before them. Mrs. Love was close to them. 
 Lachlan stood at some distance, opposite the trio. 
 
 As no one spoke. Miss Harriet ventured to 
 ask timidly what he wanted.
 
 74 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 "I am Sir Lachlan Lyons," he said, boldly 
 enough. " My father begged me to deliver this 
 letter into the hands of my great-aunts, the Miss 
 Daws. I believe I am right in bringing it here. 
 I came to do his bidding." 
 
 " Oh !" said Miss Ann, taking up an eye-glass 
 and looking at Lachlan. 
 
 '*0h!" said Miss Margery, also raising hers. 
 
 " Oh, oh !" echoed Mrs. Love. 
 
 Lachlan put the letter on the table. 
 
 " Perhaps you will be good enough to see that 
 it is all right," said Lachlan, his face suddenly 
 becoming crimson. 
 
 Miss Ann deliberately put on her glasses, and 
 broke the seal of the letter. 
 
 " Won't you sit down ?" said Miss Harriet, in 
 a half-whisper. 
 
 *'No, thank you, ma'am," said Lachlan, con- 
 tinuing to stand, while the letter was opened, 
 and three small packets were laid upon the 
 table. 
 
 Miss Ann read the letter with rigid features, 
 and passed it on to Miss Margery, who did the 
 same, and passed it on to Miss Harriet, who 
 also read it, and began to cry. 
 
 " We can do nothing for you, boy," said Miss 
 Ann, grimly. 
 
 " Certainly not," said Miss Margery.
 
 RICH RELATIONS. 75 
 
 '* I do not want anything done for me," said 
 Laehlan. " My father sent you some presents in 
 memory of my mother, and when you have seen 
 that they have arrived safely, I will go." 
 
 Miss Ann opened the parcel, and found that it 
 contained a brooch, a locket, and a ring. 
 
 "Presents we made our niece, sister," said 
 Miss Ann. 
 
 "He couldn't do less," said Miss Margery; 
 " There were plenty more." 
 
 *' What did he do with her fortune, I wonder ?" 
 said Miss Ann. 
 
 " And what did he do with her ?" said Miss 
 Margery. 
 
 " I wonder at his daring to write to us, sister," 
 said Miss Ann. 
 
 " And to send his boy," said Miss Margery. 
 
 " But it is her son, sisters," said Miss Harriet, 
 timidly. 
 
 " What is that to us ?" said Miss Ann. 
 
 " A poor beggar," said Miss Margery, 
 
 During this conversation Laehlan was growing 
 redder and redder. At the last words his wrath 
 burst forth. 
 
 " I am no beggar," he said, resolutely ; *' and 
 I am your grand-nephew. I asked nothing of 
 you, ladies, and you might have been civil, at 
 least. If you had come to us in Australia, we
 
 76 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 should have done our best for you ; but as long 
 as I have arms and head I can work. I wish 
 you good morning." 
 
 Lachlan turned on his heel^ and with indignant 
 step and look left the room. Miss Harriet fol- 
 lowed him. 
 
 " Nephew," she said. 
 
 He turned round. 
 
 "I am very sorry that we have seemed so 
 unkind, but if ever I can be of use to you, I 
 will." 
 
 ^' I want no help ; I only ask for kindness," 
 said Lachlan. " Good morning." 
 
 " One moment. I love you for your mother's 
 sake — I think I could do so for your own." 
 
 ' ' And my father ? I remember him — not my 
 mother. I would not have the love of any one 
 who hated him." 
 
 '* I never did. They had a right to marry, 
 he and your mother ; they loved one another." 
 
 " Yes, my father loved my mother to his 
 dying day." 
 
 *' Harriet ! sister !" cried a shrill voice, as the 
 parlour door opened. 
 
 It was Miss Margery. 
 
 " Good-bye," said Miss Harriet, holding out 
 her hand. 
 
 Lachlan seized it in both his, made a very
 
 RICH RELATIONS. 77 
 
 hideous face at Miss Margery, as she peered 
 through the doorway^ and disappeared. 
 
 Kern was waiting for him on the other side of 
 the dull pond that faced the house. 
 
 *'Well, cousin, what of the three maiden 
 Daws?" she asked, with her queer satirical 
 manner. 
 
 No answer. 
 
 '^ They didn't call you ' Sir Lachlan/ or * my 
 dear nephew ?' You thought father and mother 
 and us cold enough, but the old birds were 
 colder. I hate them. Now, take my advice, 
 and don't go to the Loves." 
 
 " I 'shall go, cousin. Do you think I'm afraid ?" 
 said Lachlan, forcing himself to speak stoutly. 
 
 "Here you are then," said Kern, stopping 
 before the house surrounded by the high box 
 hedge already mentioned. 
 
 Lachlan went up the short drive alone, 
 and rang the bell. The servant stared as he 
 announced himself as Sir Lachlan Lyons. She 
 said her mistress was out, but her master was at 
 home. It was all the same, said Lachlan. She 
 went to her master, and after some delay, re- 
 turned^ and told Lachlan he would see him. 
 
 '' So, so, you're Dick Lyons's son, I suppose," 
 greeted him in a gruff voice. 
 
 He could not at first see the speaker, who was
 
 78 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 sitting in a large easy chair^ with its back to- 
 wards the door. 
 
 " I've heard of you. Come here. Tell me 
 about Australia. I've an article on emigration 
 coming out in the ^ Dorset Director.' Take care 
 of my toe. Zounds, sir, you've touched the 
 flannel ! Margaret Ann ! Margaret Ann !" 
 
 A young lad}^ got up from a work-table in the 
 corner, and went to the large chair which faced 
 the window. 
 
 '^ Put a seat for the boy. Where's your mo- 
 ther? She's always out gossiping. Sit down, 
 sir. Farther off. Don't come near me, or I 
 shall be sure to knock you down. Now tell me 
 something of Australia." 
 
 "It is a much finer country than England, 
 and the natives are so much more polite than the 
 English, that I wish I was back there again." 
 
 " What ! the aborigines ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. I have often been amongst them, 
 and they never threatened to knock me down." 
 
 " Are they subject to the gout ?" 
 
 " No, I believe not. I once heard a clever 
 man say that was one of the curses of civili- 
 zation." 
 
 " Yery fine ! What do you know of clever 
 men?' 
 
 " I have seen a great many in Australia.'*
 
 RICH RELATIONS. ' 79 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! a set of scamps who can't get on 
 in their own country. «» What part were you 
 in?" 
 
 " The south-west." 
 
 At this juncture Mrs. Love entered the room. 
 
 " Only think," she said, not perceiving Lach- 
 lan, " that boy Lyons from Australia has been 
 to see aunts. They are in such a way. I was 
 there ; he is just like one of the convicts from 
 Botany Bay, only he hasn't any blue marks." 
 
 "Hush, mamma," said Margaret Ann, pointing 
 to the window. 
 
 Lachlan came forward. 
 
 " Don't touch my chair," roared the Captain. 
 
 " Did you ever see a convict, ma'am ?" asked 
 Lachlan. 
 
 " Goodness gracious, how you frightened me !" 
 said Mrs. Love, going up to her husband, and 
 whispering to him so audibly that Lachlan heard 
 every word she said. 
 
 " You mustn't have anything to say to the 
 boy, for aunts don't mean to notice him. Mar- 
 garet Ann's in great favour just now, and even 
 Bob isn't so much out of the good books as he 
 was. It would be all over if we offended them, 
 and you never saw anything like the way aunt 
 Ann gave it to Harriet after he was gone, be- 
 cause she noticed him — a low-bred, vulgar, con-
 
 80 NOTHINO VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 vict she called him ; because you know they are 
 all transported over thei^." 
 
 "If you please, ma'am, my father sent you 
 this," said Lachlan, delivering a letter to Mrs. 
 Love, with anything but the air of a convict. 
 
 " Oh ! very well ; thank you. I dare say it 
 is the chain I gave my cousin." 
 
 " Will you open it, ma'am, that you may be 
 sure? 
 
 Mrs. Love opened the small parcel ; displayed 
 a gold chain, at sight of which Margaret Ann 
 looked animated, and glanced through the letter. 
 It contained a few lines purporting to present 
 the chain as a remembrance of the writer's wife, 
 and asking for a kind welcome for that wife's 
 son. 
 
 Mrs. Love was a good-hearted woman, but 
 she never had, and never would, offend her aunts. 
 Had they not money to leave, and houses to 
 leave, and landed property to leave, and were 
 not Bob and Margaret Ann amongst their nearest 
 relations ? Who could expect her to be civil to 
 a boy to whom they were not civil ? More espe- 
 cially as that boy's mother, her first cousin, was 
 their favourite niece ? 
 
 When she read the letter her heart softened a 
 little, but when she looked at Lachlan, and saw 
 that, despite his convict abode, there was some-
 
 RICH RELATIONS. 81 
 
 thing out of the common in his broad, massive 
 forehead and keen, clear eyes, that flashed on her 
 as he read her countenance ; it hardened again. 
 Had she not a son with a forehead, brows, and 
 eyes ? What mattered it if they were not quite 
 so remarkable ? 
 
 So she gave the letter to her husband, and said, 
 with some confusion — 
 
 " Thank you ; it is all right : but you see we 
 have children of our own, and your natural pro- 
 tector is your uncle, and we are quite in a dif- 
 ferent sphere, and we never knew much of your 
 father, who married our cousin without the con- 
 sent of her friends ; and, in short, you see. 
 Captain Love, it is out of our power to help 
 him, is it not ?" 
 
 "Certainly, certainly," growled the Captain. 
 
 "I should think so!" interjected Margaret 
 Ann, with a toss of four very long pale ringlets. 
 
 Lachlan got into a passion. There was now 
 no mistake about it. 
 
 " One would think I was a beggar," he cried, 
 his thick eyebrows knitting, and his eyes kindling 
 from beneath them ; " but I am not. I want no 
 one's help. I did not ask for it. I have earned 
 my bread these eighteen months, and I can earn 
 it still. If this is Old England that my father 
 used to talk so much about, I wish I had never 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHINO HAVE. 
 
 come here. I would rather have been tortured 
 by an Australian native. Good morning, sir. 
 Good morning, ma'am." 
 
 As Lachlan spoke he drew nearer and nearer 
 to the cushioned stool, on which rested Captain 
 Love's gouty foot. Whether designedly or un- 
 designedly, I will not say, he stumbled over the 
 stool as he passed it, and in so doing, gave a 
 shock to the invalid member that none but the 
 gout-stricken could fully appreciate. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he muttered, as he 
 hurried out of the room, followed by such a 
 cannonade of oaths as he had never had fired 
 into him before. 
 
 " My dear ! the horrid boy !" " Oh, papa ! Put 
 it so! The brute! Which flannel! A little 
 medicine !" " Hold your tongues, you fools ! Get 
 out of the way !" were phrases that reached 
 Lachlan as he walked through the hall, and 
 down the gravel walk, and in his heart I am 
 afraid that he rejoiced at having had his revenge. 
 
 Kern was waiting for him at the bottom of 
 the road. 
 
 "This way, cousin, over the Downs," she 
 said. " How do you like your new relations ? 
 Oh ! the Loves don't seem to have been much 
 more loving than old Margery. Isn't Margaret 
 Ann a beauty ? And you should see Bob !"
 
 RICH RELATIONS. 83 
 
 Kern saw that her cousin was very angry, and 
 said no more. They got upon the Downs, and 
 walked some way in silence. 
 
 At last Lachlan's face cleared, and he stopped 
 to look at the prospect. Whether the rich vale 
 of Marchmoor, with the river winding through 
 it, and the wide extent of country spread out 
 beneath him, reminded him of some scene in 
 Australia, or whether the excitement of the day 
 had been too great for his resolution, I cannot 
 say, but at that moment he was overcome. He 
 sat down on the dry turf, covered his face with 
 his hands, and sobbed. 
 
 Kern stood by and wondered. She was not 
 herself given to tears, and could not apparently 
 sympathise with them. 
 
 "They are not worth crying about, cousin," 
 she said. " We are fifty times better than they." 
 
 But she had not touched the spring of the 
 tears, so could not help to dry them. 
 
 "You will do very well with us, cousin. 
 Father and mother are neither Daws nor Loves." 
 
 Seeing that she did no good by talking, the 
 girl was wise enough to hold her tongue. 
 
 At last the sobbing ceased. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, cousin," said Lachlan. 
 '' I am ashamed of myself But father thought 
 so much of me, and took such trouble to write
 
 84 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 those letters, and was so sure they would be 
 kind to me, that I could not help it. I hope he 
 does not know it where he is. And I am afraid 
 I was rude, and not the gentleman he told me 
 always to be." 
 
 " I'm sure I hope you were. You had better 
 not go to the Lodge. I don't think the Bats are 
 much better than the rest. I can leave the letter 
 for you." 
 
 " No, thank you ; I will go through with what 
 father told me to do." 
 
 Lachlan got up and walked on. 
 
 '' You know, cousin, that Mr. Nicholas Bat 
 was in love with your mother, and wanted to 
 marry her. Perhaps he mightn't like to see 
 
 you." 
 
 Lachlan glanced at Kern as if wondering how 
 such a thought had come into the head of so 
 young a girl ; but the handsome face was quite 
 unconscious of its owner having made any re- 
 markable speech. 
 
 " He has had time enough to forget that." 
 '' But he never married any one else !" 
 ''Oh!" suddenly exclaimed Lachlan, running 
 with all his might away from Kern, up the 
 Down. 
 
 Kern ran after him. When she came up with 
 him, he was standing in a great state of excite-
 
 RICH RELATIONS. 85 
 
 ment, amongst some heaps of stone and eleva- 
 tions of earth that were scattered here and there 
 on the Downs. He had forgotten Daws, Loves, 
 and Bats. 
 
 " These must be the old Roman remains my 
 father told me of. Hurrah! I don't care for 
 anything now. A Roman camp ; strata of chalk 
 and oolite ; everything new and different from 
 Australia. Kern, can you tell me the date of 
 this ?" 
 
 " It has been here ever since I can remember. 
 What can you see in those stupid stones? If 
 you don't come on we shall never get to the 
 Downs Farm in time for tea." 
 
 Thus adjured, Lachlan went on, casting long- 
 ing glances behind him at the old Roman en- 
 campment on which he had so happily stumbled.
 
 86 NOTHIXG VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 A TRIO OF BACHELORS. 
 
 The Downs Lodge was a country-house, prettily 
 situated, with the Downs at its back and sides, 
 and the rich vale of Marchmoor beneath. It was 
 surrounded by plantations, and had a small farm 
 appended to it. The eldest Mr. Bat was a great 
 farmer ; the second, Mr. Nicholas Bat, a great 
 sportsman ; and the third, Mr. Oliver Bat, a great 
 reader, and somewhat of a beau. 
 
 As it chanced, Lachlan and Kern fell in with 
 them all, but not together. They were never 
 together except at breakfast and dinner, though 
 three brothers more attached to one another were 
 not to be found. 
 
 Mr. Bat was standing in the middle of a field 
 of saintfoin, with a large retriever by his side, as 
 the young pair walked through the said field. 
 
 " Doesn't he look more like a scarecrow than a 
 gentleman ?" said Kern.
 
 A TEIO OF BACHELORS. 87 
 
 " Halloo, young ones !" cried Mr. Bat, " don't 
 trample my crop." 
 
 He walked towards them. 
 
 " Oh ! is that you, little Miss Kern ?" he said, 
 good-humouredly. " Which brother is this ? I 
 don't know his face." 
 
 Of all the Lyons family, Kern was the one 
 that no one ever forgot. The rest were mistaken 
 one for another — mis-called — or quite unnoticed ; 
 but every one stopped to speak to Kern. 
 
 " It is my cousin from Australia, Mr. Bat," 
 said Kern. 
 
 She, too, was the only member of her family 
 who disdained to put " Sir " or " Ma'am " when 
 she addressed a superior. 
 
 " I am come with a letter from my father. Sir 
 Eichard Lyons, sir, to Mr. Nicholas Bat." 
 
 "Sir Richard Lyons?" said Mr. Bat, inquir- 
 ingly. 
 
 Lachlan blushed. He began to feel that there 
 was something ridiculous in assuming the title. 
 
 " My father went to Australia, sir, Mr. Job 
 Lyons's elder brother." 
 
 Mr. Bat smiled. 
 
 " I remember. We used to call him Dick. He 
 and I were old friends ; shake hands, my boy. 
 We must be better acquainted. A letter for 
 me, eh ?"
 
 88 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAYE. 
 
 ''No, sir, for Mr. Nicholas Bat, from my 
 father." 
 
 " Um ! that's queer. Is he come with you ? 
 Ah ! dear me ! I am very sorry. Poor fellow ! 
 Well, such is life! Here is my saintfoin just 
 coming up to-day, cut down to-morrow. By the 
 way, Kern, tell your father that he was wrong 
 about the saintfoin. See what a crop I have ; 
 he ought to sow it. This light chalky soil is the 
 very thing for it. What a fine sight it is in the 
 afternoon sunlight !" 
 
 Mr. Bat was right ; it was a very beautiful sight, 
 and still more beautiful from a little distance. 
 The field was one bright, flickering, wavering flush 
 of red ; and as the sun drew out and enhanced 
 the colour, it looked like the sky at sunset. 
 
 Mr. Bat, too, was somewhat remarkable in his 
 appearance. He would not have made a bad 
 picture as he stood, with his retriever at his heels, 
 and Lachlan and Kern before him in the centre 
 of that brilliant field ; green downs behind him, 
 a green valley beneath. He was a middle-aged 
 man, tall, portly, grizzled and bronzed. He wore 
 a farmer's costume of fustian jacket, corduroy 
 breeches, immense leather overalls, and coarse 
 straw hat. He carried a hoe in his hand, and 
 looked keenly about him. He was every inch a 
 farmer, and every inch a gentleman.
 
 A TRIO OF BACHELORS. 89 
 
 "What is saiiitfoin, sir?" asked Lachlan. 
 
 " Saintfoin ? holy hay. A grass seed that we 
 SOW early for an early crop. I never could per- 
 suade your uncle to try it. If you like I will 
 give you a treatise upon it to read." 
 
 " Thank you, sir." 
 
 " Come with me to the house. You are not 
 afraid of three old bachelors, Miss Kern ?" 
 
 They all went to the Lodge, Kern whispering 
 to Lachlan that she had often longed to see the 
 Bats' nest, but never had been into it before. 
 
 Mr. Bat led them into a good library, where 
 they found Mr. Oliver Bat. He was a much 
 younger man than his brother, very pale and 
 thin, with reddish hair and small bright blue 
 eyes. He was dressed with great care, and con- 
 trasted widely with Mr. Bat in his farm costume. 
 
 "I want that number of the ^Farmer's Ma- 
 gazine ' with the treatise on saintfoin in it," said 
 Mr. Bat. 
 
 Mr. Oliver went at once to a particular corner 
 of his very neat bookshelves, and produced the 
 particular number. 
 
 Then Mr. Bat introduced Lachlan, and Mr. 
 Oliver bowed, and put a chair for Kern, who 
 was standing looking very demure, whilst Lachlan 
 was receiving the book. 
 
 " Are you fond of reading ?" he asked of Kern.
 
 90 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 " Very, Mr. Oliver. I am reading Sir Walter 
 Scott's novels. Miss Eagles has them all, and 
 has lent them to me." 
 
 Kern looked inquisitively into Mr. Oliver's face 
 as she said this. 
 
 " Ah ! is Miss Eagles a reader ?" 
 
 " Oh yes ! she is very clever. She can do 
 everything." 
 
 " Now, cousin, if you please, I am ready," said 
 Lachlan. 
 
 '* You will find my brother down below, fish- 
 ing in the stream," said Mr. Bat; "and if you 
 want books, I am sure Oliver will lend you 
 some." 
 
 "Certainly; or you, Miss Kern. Perhaps 
 Miss Eagles — but never mind — good morning." 
 
 Lachlan and Kern hurried down from the 
 Lodge to the bright little stream in the vale, of 
 which the brook already described formed a 
 portion. After walking briskly along its bank 
 for about a quarter of a mile, they saw a gentle- 
 man fishing. 
 
 " There is Mr. Nick," said Kern. " You see he 
 didn't die of love, like the Bride of Lammermoor. 
 How red and fat he looks !" 
 
 In truth Mr. Nicholas Bat was a jolly-looking 
 man. He was much shorter and stouter than 
 either of his brothers, and of redder face. His
 
 A TRIO OF BACHELORS. 91 
 
 short velveteen jacket and broad straw hat did 
 not show off his person to advantage. 
 
 " If you please, sir, I have a letter — " began 
 Lachlan. 
 
 " Stop — stop a minute. I feel a fish biting," 
 said Mr. Nicholas. 
 
 But there was no fish, and he turned round 
 disappointed. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, I don't think I know you. 
 You are not a Lyons? How d'ye do, Miss 
 Kern ?" 
 
 "My father was Mr. Job Lyons's eldest 
 brother, sir, and he sent you this letter from 
 Australia." 
 
 Kern was delighted to see a very decided 
 change of countenance. The rosy face became 
 redder. 
 
 '* Your father ! How dare he ?" 
 
 " He is dead, sir," said Lachlan, simply. 
 
 *' Poor boy ! I beg your pardon." 
 
 He took the letter, crumpled it up in his hand, 
 and stuffed it into his pocket. 
 
 " You will read it, sir ?" 
 
 " Not now, not now ; I am busy. There is a 
 splendid trout." 
 
 Lachlan glanced at the stream, but Kern, on 
 whom nothing was ever lost, saw that the hand 
 which held the long fishing-rod trembled.
 
 92 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 " I will see you another day about this. Tell 
 me your name. You are like " 
 
 "My mother, sir, they say. My name is 
 Lachlan." 
 
 Mr. Nicholas Bat held out his hand, shook 
 hands with Lachlan, turned, and hurried up the 
 stream. 
 
 " Well, that is romantic," said Kern. " I could 
 fancy Mr. Oliver like that, but not Mr. Nicholas. 
 This is the way to grandfather's." And they 
 walked by the sparkling water to the farm. 
 
 "Now tell me about your schoolmaster and 
 mistress, cousin," said Lachlan. 
 
 "Mr. Eagles is a gentleman, but we don't 
 know much about him. He is very learned and 
 clever, and can teach everything. He came to 
 settle here a great many years ago, and then he 
 had a grown-up son, and a daughter. She was 
 only a young girl then, but I believe she is more 
 than twenty-five now. Mr. Eagles is as proud 
 and cross as he can be, and canes the boys well ; 
 but he makes them learn." 
 
 " Can he teach mathematics ?" 
 
 " Of course he can ; he can teach everything. 
 And Miss Eagles teaches music and French. I 
 have made mother promise to let me learn music. 
 Miss Eagles has taught me French for nothing." 
 
 " Where is the son ?"
 
 A TRIO OF BACHELORS. 93 
 
 " I don't know ; nobody knows. He went away 
 to learn painting, and has never written to his 
 father since. He was very wild, and a dreadful 
 temper. Father says it was no wonder, for Mr. 
 Eagles spoilt him, and I suppose that is why all 
 our children are such tempers, for father and 
 mother spoil them. I think I have found out 
 that young Mr. Eagles was to have married 
 Aunt Mary, who died last year, and that she 
 pined after him. But I don't believe any one was 
 ever such a fool as to die for love. Do you ?" 
 
 " I don't know anything about it. But is Mr. 
 Eagles anything of a geologist, or does he under- 
 stand engineering ?" 
 
 "I dare say he does; I tell you, cousin, he 
 knows everything ; and Miss Eagles is as proud 
 as if she were a duchess. She thinks it quite an 
 honour to come to drink tea with us. And Mat 
 is dreadfully in love with her, and she doesn't 
 care for him. He is eighteen, and she is five-and- 
 twenty, at least. I laugh at him, and he gets so 
 furious." 
 
 "But if they are so grand, why do they keep 
 school?" 
 
 " That is what everybody says. And they 
 are such tempers ! Even Miss Eagles can't help 
 boxing our ears sometimes. Not mine; no, 
 she never boxed mine. Kezia is her great
 
 94 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 favourite. I have seen Mr. Oliver Bat look at 
 her and speak to her very often. That is why 
 I said she was so clever, just to see whether he 
 would blush, as they do in the Waverley novels ; 
 but I don't think he did." 
 
 At this juncture they entered the farmyard at 
 the Downs, where we have already seen, Aline 
 met and left them. When Lachlan had been 
 duly presented to Mrs. Bull, they all went into 
 the house to tea. 
 
 Kern told her grandfather, in her gravest and 
 most satirical manner, of Lachlan's reception by 
 his relations, beginning with her own mother. 
 Mr. Bull laughed till he shook the tea-table, and 
 questioned Lachlan on every minute particular of 
 his visits. 
 
 " That's right, my boy !" he exclaimed. 
 "Nothing like independence. If doesn't ask 
 for anything, thee'lt be sure to have it. Had'st 
 gone cringing and fawning, the old ladies might 
 'a had some reason to grumble ; now they'll glow 
 at you for a time, and mayhap come round. I 
 woudn't 'a grudged a sovereign to 'a seen the 
 Cap'en wien thee hurt his toe. He isn't such a 
 bad man either, but as conceited as a peacock. 
 He writes the country news for the 'Dorset 
 Director,' and he thinks Dr. Johnson's nothing 
 to 'm."
 
 A TRIO OF BACHELORS. 95 
 
 "But the Mr. Bats were much kinder than 
 they were/' said Lachlan. 
 
 " Ah ! they're gentlefolks, born and bred ; so 
 are the Daws, but the Cap'en's only half-and- 
 half. Besides, nobody can expect them to do 
 anything for 'ee, so they may ventur to be civil ; 
 once your relations take you by the hand, they 
 can't let you go. Why even our Rhod was 
 glad to see you for a week or so, d'ye see. Haw ! 
 haw! haw !" 
 
 "Oh, grandfather!" said Mrs. Bull. "You 
 mustn't mind my master, my dear. He must 
 have his joke." 
 
 "I don't, ma'am," said Lachlan, laughing. 
 " But, sir, I want to show them at once that I 
 can keep myself. What is the best way of earn- 
 ing a living here in England ?" 
 
 '' What sort of a living ? Where there's a will 
 there's a way." 
 
 *' Any sort. I don't care what I put my hand to." 
 
 "Bravo, boy! Thee'lt do. Tell your uncle 
 that to-morrow, and shame Mat. And if he don't 
 find 'ee work, I will. What dost like best ?" 
 
 " I want to be an engineer, but I must make 
 money first." 
 
 This was said confidently. 
 
 " Whew ! You'll want a couple of hundred to 
 get apprenticed."
 
 96 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHINa HAVE. 
 
 **I shall do it, somehow. I know more now 
 than many boys did at my age, who became 
 learned men." 
 
 Mrs. Bull looked admiringly at Lachlan, and 
 said that was just like Dr. Dove. 
 
 Here Mrs. Fluke came into the room, and said 
 that her lady would like to see Lachlan before he 
 went away. 
 
 Kern glanced rather contemptuously at Fluke, 
 and was rewarded by a broad stare. 
 
 " Another granddaughter I suppose, Mrs. Bull ? 
 What's your name, my dear." 
 
 " Lyons," said Kern, shortly. 
 
 " Ke-ren-hap-puch/' said Mr. Bull, pronounc- 
 ing each syllable slowly, and glancing mali- 
 ciously at Kern. 
 
 "What?" ejaculated Lachlan. 
 
 " Job's youngest daughter. Her father, whose 
 name is Job, would have his children called after 
 them of his namesake, the patriarch : Jemima, 
 Kezia, and Ke-ren-hap-puch. When she was 
 christened " 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't tell that old story," said 
 Kern, rising and walking majestically out of the 
 room. 
 
 "When she was christened/' again began Mr. 
 Bull, without noticing Kern's absence^ " her 
 nurse called her Kernpooch, — you see 'tis a hard
 
 A TRIO OF BACHELORS. 97 
 
 name to spell and sound — and so we have called 
 her Kern ever since." 
 
 Mrs. Fluke and Lachlan laughed. 
 
 " She alwa^^s goes out of the room when I tell 
 the story, so we are used to it. Now you can 
 come in again, Kern." 
 
 Kern waited until Mrs. Fluke was gone^ and 
 then re-appeared. 
 
 " Such a vulgar woman too !" was all she said. 
 
 The parlour tea was later than that of the hall, 
 so Lachlan went out with Mr. Bull, whilst Kern, 
 rather reluctantly^ washed up the tea-things at 
 her grandmother s request. 
 
 In due course of time, Lachlan paid his visit. 
 He found Madam Rambully — so we must now 
 call her, as she was ever afterwards known by 
 that name — with her bonnet and veil on, and 
 wondered that she was going out so late ; she 
 held out her hand to him, and said Fluke had 
 been telling her his history, and she wanted to 
 know if he were really a baronet. 
 
 Lachlan was disappointed when he found it 
 was curiosity and not interest that induced Madam 
 Rambully to send for him. However, Aline put 
 her little hand in his, and told him that her 
 mamma was sorry for him, because he had come 
 alone and so far, to strangers ; and so he was 
 comforted, and told his story. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 *'Ah! the baronetcy was very remote," said 
 Madam Eambully ; "- there is not much chance of 
 yonr ever regaining it. I suppose you found 
 your relations low people." 
 
 " By no means, madam," said Lachlan ; " they 
 are all very respectable." 
 
 "And kind?" asked Aline. 
 
 "Some of them," said Lachlan. 
 
 " You will be always kind to the poor boy, 
 mamma, won't you ?" said Aline. ''I am sure 
 I will. May I go and speak to the girl that 
 came with him, mamma ? She is very pretty." 
 
 " Yes, if you like. But don't stay." 
 
 Aline accompanied Lachlan into the hall. She 
 at once tried to make friends with Kern, who 
 was very polite and dignified. She felt offended 
 that she, too, had not been invited into the 
 parlour. 
 
 Fluke arrived with her usual, " Your mamma 
 wants you, Miss Aline," and Aline hurried off. 
 
 " I can't think who you take after. Miss," said 
 Fluke. "You pick up with everybody. You 
 are 'ail fellow well met with all this 'ouse 
 already." 
 
 " You are so cross. Fluke. Why shouldn't I 
 talk to that pretty girl ?" 
 
 " Because she isn't fit company for you, Miss 
 Aline. I don't like her. She give herself airs."
 
 A TRIO OF BACHELORS. 99 
 
 "Yes, I think she is rather grand," said 
 Aline, thoughtfully, but when she re-entered the 
 parlour, she described Kern as "the most 
 beautiful girl she had ever seen in her life ;" and 
 upon Fluke's telling the story of her christening, 
 declared that her long eastern name was just fit 
 for her, for she was like a princess. 
 
 " Law, Miss Aline, what notions you 'ave. 
 Where do you pick them up ?" 
 
 " For shame, Fluke. You don't know^ the 
 history of Job. You know he was the great- 
 est man in all the East. The Bible says so. 
 And his daughters must have been princesses ; 
 and they were all very beautiful. Mamma, 
 make Fluke sit down, and I will read it to her." 
 
 "Law, Miss Aline! What a child you are! 
 I've read it hundreds of times, but I never found 
 that out." 
 
 " Then you must." 
 
 So Fluke was compelled to sit down and listen 
 to the book of Job, during the reading of which 
 Madam Rambully went to sleep ; but Fluke was 
 kept effectually awake by Aline's perpetual repe- 
 tition of *'Do you see. Fluke ? do you understand ?" 
 
 To the child the story was that of a beautiful 
 poem, out of which her fancy conjured up a thou- 
 sand images, almost as pure, perhaps, as those ot 
 the poet who wrote it.
 
 100 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 CHAPTER Yin. 
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 The next morning Lachlan and Kern stood to- 
 gether at the gate of the garden that opened into 
 the churchyard, to watch the funeral procession 
 that accompanied the remains of Mrs. Raven to 
 the grave. The elders of the family, together 
 with the heads of all the houses in the parish, 
 were amongst the sorrowing friends who followed 
 that simple coffin : the younger were in the 
 churchyard looking on. Somehow this pair 
 could not join the crowd. 
 
 When Lachlan saw Mr. Raven, his sister, and 
 four little children, standing round the grave, 
 and seemed to hear the repressed sobs of these 
 mourners, he turned away, and went quietly 
 into the house. Here he sat down and cried. 
 Strangers they all were to him. but his heart was 
 open to sympathy. 
 
 Kezia, who had remained in the house to nurse
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. 101 
 
 the twins, came into the hall to put one of them 
 into his cradle. Seeing Lachlan, she sat down 
 beside him, and cried with him. From that 
 moment they understood one another. 
 
 Kern returned in due course of time. There 
 were no traces of tears on her handsome face, 
 but it was very grave. 
 
 She began at once to describe the funeral to 
 Kezia. 
 
 One after another the rest of the family came 
 in. 
 
 " Who knows whose turn it may be next !" 
 said Mrs. Lyons, with her handkerchief to her 
 eyes. " Yes : mine, girls, perhaps. I'm not so 
 strong as she was, dear soul. You 11 know how to 
 value me, perhaps, when I'm gone. 'Twas a 
 pitiful sight ! I was thinking of Luke and 
 John and Rhoda, and the blessed twins, all the 
 time, and wondering who'd take care of 'em if I 
 was gone. I don't feel as if I should be here 
 many years." 
 
 " Lor, mother, how yon do talk !" said Jemima, 
 " What's the use ?" 
 
 Rhoda and John began to roar. 
 
 " There, my little angels, don't cry for mother," 
 said Mrs. Lyons, looking as if she really was 
 about to be buried ; " but one can't help think- 
 ing when one is so weak ; and I must say,
 
 102 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HATE. 
 
 Jemima, you're very unfeeling. I suppose you 
 take after your father : 'tis in his family, not in 
 ours, for there never were more feeling people 
 than father and mother. But we can't be all 
 alike in this world." 
 
 "That's a blessing, at any rate," said Mr. 
 Lyons. " But I think we needn't begin to 
 grumble and bemoan ourselves the minute we 
 come home from such a sight as we've just seen. 
 Parson Eaven set us a better example than that. 
 And after all there isn't so much to wish to live 
 for that I see. 'Tis but a weary world, all work 
 and no play ; and those who are most useful in 
 it always seem to go first." 
 
 " Perhaps they are most ready, father," said 
 Kezia, gently. 
 
 "Ah! that's what Mrs. Raven taught you," 
 sighed Mrs. Lyons. " We sha'n't have anybody 
 like her again. But I can't see what you should 
 find so hard in life. Job. It's very unkind to 
 hurt one's feelings so. You, with good health, 
 and me, and ten little angels " 
 
 " We needn't quarrel about it now," said Mr. 
 Lyons. "Ah! there's Mr. Eagles with Mat. 
 Now that is an unexpected pleasure." 
 
 "Let's be off," cried Mark and Luke, disap- 
 pearing at one door as Mr. Eagles and Mat 
 entered at another.
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. 103 
 
 " Your son insisted upon my coming in, Mrs. 
 Lyons/' he said. ^' I was going straight home, 
 but he wouldn't let me off. I hope I am not 
 disturbing you ?" 
 
 " Not at all, sir. I'm sure we're always glad 
 to see you. But you'll excuse our being rather 
 put about to-day and flurried by this sad scene. 
 I was just saying that we didn't know who would 
 be next. Perhaps I, who am always ill, may be 
 taken off." 
 
 " Perhaps so, ma'am," said Mr. Eagles, ab- 
 sently, and looking at Lachlan as he spoke. " I 
 suppose this is the nephew from Australia ?" 
 
 Lachlan at once went towards Mr. Eagles, who 
 shook hands with him, and fixed a pair of brisk, 
 inquisitive black eyes upon his face. 
 
 Mr. Eagles was a little, bald, grey-headed, 
 elderly man, with a keen, sensible, but somewhat 
 stern expression of countenance. You could 
 believe, at the first sight of him, Kern's assertion 
 that he caned his scholars. 
 
 Jacob and Esau began to cry simultaneously, 
 and Mrs. Lyons forgot her approaching demise in 
 her little angels, and in sending off Jemima and 
 Kezia to see about dinner. Mr. Lyons mean- 
 while took Mr. Eagles into the parlour for " a 
 little quiet," as he expressed it, whither Mat and 
 Lachlan followed.
 
 104 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHINGl HAVE. 
 
 Mr. Eagles soon began to talk to Laclilan 
 about Australia, and the quartette were shortly 
 engaged in discussing the merits of emigration, 
 towards which Mr. Eagles, as well as Mat, rather 
 inclined. Were he a few years younger, he said, 
 he would- go to Australia at once, upon which 
 Mat declared his resolution of doing so as soon 
 as he could manage it. 
 
 " And what are you going to do, my lad ?" 
 said Mr. Eagles to Lachlan. 
 
 " Work for my uncle, sir, if he will let me," 
 was the boy's ready answer. 
 
 He had quite made up his mind what to say 
 on the first opportunity, during the past night, 
 which had been but a restless and sleepless one. 
 
 " How ?" said Mr. Lyons. 
 
 " I want to earn my living, uncle, and I think 
 I could be worth board and lodging now, if you 
 would try me. I know something of farm- 
 work." 
 
 ** He could take my place," said Mat. 
 
 " And the learning ?" asked Mr, Eagles. 
 '' You have an eye for a scholar ?" 
 
 " I could learn after work-hours. Many have 
 done that, sir." 
 
 " What is your taste ?" 
 
 " I want to learn mathematics, sir, and engi- 
 neering, and geology, and drawing, and "
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. 105 
 
 '*And all after what o'clock, Mr. Lyons?" 
 said Mr. Eagles, smiling. 
 
 " S^ven or eight, maybe," laughed Mr. Lyons. 
 
 " Let him off at seven^ and he can come to my 
 night-class," said Mr. Eagles. "But how do 
 you mean to pay for your schooling, my boy ?" 
 
 Lachlan's countenance fell. 
 
 " I dare say I can earn something. I used in 
 Australia. "Work and money come together. 
 And if my cousins will lend me their books, I 
 can teach myself. And Mr. Bat promised to 
 lend me books, and I am sure I can get on." 
 
 Mr. Eagles was interested. He was a scholar, 
 and fond of teaching ; but he had never, in his 
 experience, had to do with a boy who was re- 
 solved to educate himself, and would not, to all 
 appearance, need the cane. His pupils were 
 principally the sons of respectable farmers, who 
 seldom went beyond a certain point, or displayed 
 beyond the average amount of ability ; and 
 even those who did were removed from him 
 generally too early to enable him to perfect their 
 education. 
 
 He put Lachlan a few of the ordinary ques- 
 tions m mental arithmetic, and received such 
 ready answers that he was surprised, and so 
 were Mr. Lyons and Mat, neither of whom could 
 have answered them. With true scholastic zeal
 
 106 NOTHING TEXTURE, NOTHING' HAVE. . 
 
 he went on questioning, and Lachlan went on 
 replying, until dinner was ready. 
 
 He found that the boy had a mathematical 
 turn, which, though uncultivated save by his 
 own acute observation and perseverance, was 
 already surprisingly developed. 
 
 After dinner he managed to speak in private 
 to Mr. Lyons about him, and said that it would 
 be a sin to allow his powers to sleep. 
 
 " Not that they can sleep, Mr. Lyons," he 
 said, " but they ought to be cultivated." 
 
 " You must talk to my wife, Mr. Eagles. I 
 think you'll find that she'll say ten children are 
 quite enough for us to cultivate." 
 
 "But you don't mean to send the boy adrift. 
 Let him work as he proposed, at least, and give 
 him his evenings." 
 
 " IVe no objection ; but Ehoda thinks he's 
 only come for a visit. I can't afford to keep the 
 boy, and send him to school, and that's the 
 truth." 
 
 " I wouldn't advise that. I know, to my cost, 
 what trying to educate a genius is. Let him 
 fight his own battle ; but give him a chance of 
 learning." 
 
 " I don't care, but you must talk to my wife. 
 What with the farm, and the ten children, and 
 her health, and the bad times, and fifty other
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. lOT 
 
 things, I am almost beside myself; and now 
 here's another plague come upon one in poor 
 Dick's boy. Talk of the plagues of Egypt, why, 
 Mr. Eagles, they were nothing to it. I was well 
 christened Job, I'm sure, only I wish I had some 
 of his patience." 
 
 Mr. Eagles bustled off to find Mrs. Lyons. 
 She was superintending a general scouring of 
 milk-pails and tins, with Esau in her arms ; 
 whilst Jemima was audibly grumbling that she 
 could do the work fifty times as well if mother 
 would only take away that roaring baby. The 
 servant-girl looked cross, and the trio was evi- 
 dently not a happy one. 
 
 Mr. Eagles poked his nose into the dairy from 
 without, and said : " One word, if you please, 
 Mrs. Lyons, before I go." 
 
 " Directly, Mr. Eagles. Now, Jemima, do get 
 it done up before milking-time. It wears one's 
 life out to be so troubled." 
 
 "Thank goodness!" said Jemima, as her 
 mother went away. "Now, Molly, let's set to 
 work our own way. I wish I was married." 
 
 "Zure, Miss Mima, there be young Measter 
 Low as be a dyin' vor 'ee. I heerd 'im zay 
 t'other day az you wur the viewer o' the vlock, 
 and hur didn't think Miss Kern could light a 
 candle to 'ee."
 
 108 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHINa HAVE. 
 
 "Now, Molly, work away, and let's adone 
 before mother comes back," said Jemima, blush- 
 ing visibly. 
 
 Mr. Eagles had the tact to begin his conversa- 
 tion with Mrs. Lyons by praising Mark and 
 Luke, and saying how well Matthew was turning 
 out. 
 
 ''But, Mr. Eagles, Mat declares he'll go to 
 Australia ; and if he does, it'll be the death of 
 me. You said yourself just now, sir, that you 
 thought it likely I should be taken next to poor 
 dear Mrs. Raven " 
 
 *' I, ma'am ! You mistake. I never 
 thought " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! Mr. Eagles, it slipped out, but you 
 know it's quite true." 
 
 " A few years in a new country might make a 
 man and a fortune of a fine fellow like Matthew, 
 Mrs. Lyons. Some of your family must emigrate. 
 What are you to do with them all here ? Besides, 
 there's a clever young nephew come to take his 
 place." 
 
 Mrs. Lyons began to cry, and as she was wip- 
 ing her eyes, Matthew and Lachlan came in. 
 They had been continuing the conversation begun 
 in the parlour in the fields, and Mat had come to 
 the resolution that go to Australia he would to 
 seek his fortune.
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. 109 
 
 He entered at once eagerly into the discussion 
 of the elders, but Mrs. Lyons continued firm to 
 her resolution that Matthew should not go away. 
 As to Lachlan, he seemed a kind lad, and he 
 might remain for a few weeks, if he liked, until 
 they saw what would turn up for him, but they 
 couldn't afford to pay for his schooling. 
 
 Mr. Eagles said that he was sure Lachlan 
 would manage to earn money enough to pay him 
 for his .night class, resolving in his mind the while 
 not to take anything for teaching him, but wish- 
 ing to keep him up to his independence. Lachlan 
 thanked his aunt very heartily, told Mr. Eagles 
 that as soon as he had anything to pay he would 
 attend school, and that meanwhile he would teach 
 himself. Mr. Eagles said that he had better come 
 at once, just to be set going, and that they would 
 not quarrel about the payment for the first 
 week. 
 
 Accordingly, the following morning saw Lach- 
 lan working with a will in the fields with his 
 uncle and cousin, and the evening found him, 
 heart and soul, in mathematics at Mr. Eagles* 
 evening class. 
 
 Scholastics were also in question at the Downs 
 Farm. Fluke having quite made up her mind 
 that her mistress was very well placed in her 
 present lodging, determined that she should re-
 
 110 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHINa HAVE. 
 
 main there. But what was to become of Aline ? 
 She must be taught, and her mother was nearly 
 blind, and Fluke was ignorant. 
 
 She was not very long in finding out from Mrs. 
 Bull that there was a lady a little out of the vil- 
 lage who gave lessons to any one who would 
 receive them, but that there were few to learn. 
 Mrs. Bull believed she was very clever, and knew 
 that she was highly educated. Her granddaugh- 
 ters had been taught by her, but, with the 
 exception of Kern, they had only had quite a 
 plain education. Kern was ambitious, and her 
 father spoilt her, so she was to learn music, she 
 was told, which she thought quite out of place. 
 She had no idea of girls getting notions beyond 
 their situation in life. 
 
 " Does the lady go out to teach ?" asked Fluke. 
 
 " She is very particular," was the reply. " She 
 goes to Miss Love, and to little Miss Eaven, poor 
 dear, for music ; but all the rest go to her. I 
 mean Kern and one or two others, and Kezia 
 when she can." 
 
 " Do you think she would come to Miss Aline, 
 just whilst we're here, ma'am ?" 
 
 " Well, I really don't know. It is rather far." 
 
 Mrs. Bull hesitated : she felt sure Miss Eagles 
 would go nowhere if there were any doubt as to 
 the respectability of her pupils.
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. Ill 
 
 The first Sunday that they were at the Downs 
 Mrs. Bull did not go to church in the afternoon, 
 and offered to wait upon Madam Rambully, if 
 Fluke would take Aline. The child begged so 
 hard that the mother insisted, and Fluke con- 
 sented. 
 
 They walked with Mr. Bull across the mea- 
 dows, Aline prattling all the way like the brook 
 that babbled near them. She could not restrain 
 her delight when the church bells rang out their 
 cheerful call to prayers, but bounded away from 
 her companions, as if to meet the chime, like a 
 frisky lamb from its mother. 
 
 " Bless her innocent, little heart !" said Mr. 
 Bull. " I hope it may always be as light whilst 
 it is with us." 
 
 It was more than half a mile from the Downs 
 Farm to the church. The congregation were 
 flocking in as our trio reached it. Fluke saw and 
 inwardly commented on every one ; Aline walked 
 through the churchyard demurely with her little 
 hand in Mr. Bull's, and did not look much about 
 her. The child felt quieted by the quiet church- 
 yard. She just glanced at Church Farm, and saw 
 Lachlan and his relations coming through the 
 garden gate. 
 
 She wondered sadly whether Mrs. Raven's 
 poor little children were at church, and had
 
 112 NOTHINa VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 she asked Fluke she could have told her. She 
 saw them, their father, and aunt behind the 
 curtains of the large vicarage pew She saw the 
 Miss Daws in their grand pew, the Loves and 
 the Lyonses in theirs; she saw the three Mr. 
 Bats, Mr. Perch the doctor, and Mr. and Miss 
 Eagles. 
 
 "Aren't those two in the small pew to the 
 right the schoolmaster and his daughter?" she 
 asked of Mr. Bull as they sat down. 
 
 He nodded assent, and she was satisfied. Miss 
 Eagles was certainly a lady. Having settled this 
 in her mind she attended, reverently enough, to 
 the service. 
 
 After it was over she resisted Aline's en- 
 treaties to be allowed to speak to Lachlan and 
 Kern, and returned to the Downs alone with 
 her. Mr. Bull always went to his son-in-law's 
 after church. 
 
 Lachlan was looking eagerly after Fluke and 
 Aline, as were more than half of the congrega- 
 tion, when he heard a low, hasty " How do you 
 do ?" at his side. He turned to speak to Miss 
 Harriet Daw, who nodded to him, and hurried on 
 after her two large-bonneted and erect sisters, 
 The trio walked home from church with the Loves 
 and the doctor, and it was finally settled that 
 Madam Rambully was not to be called upon, that
 
 THE SCHOOLMASTER. 113 
 
 Lachlan Lyons was an impertinent, forward boy, 
 that it was too soon for the Eavens to be at 
 church, and that Kern Lyons was the most con- 
 ceited girl in the country, and would inevitably 
 be ruined if her parents did not take care. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 114 NOTHINa VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 
 
 Mrs. Bull relented from her resolution that her 
 lodgers should leave at the end of the prescribed 
 two months, although people talked of them, and 
 of her and Mr. Bull for allowing them to remain 
 in her house. She even began to hope that they 
 would not propose it themselves. 
 
 Of Madam Rambully she saw very little. She 
 gave no trouble to any one but Fluke, whose 
 pleasure it was to do everything for her and 
 Aline. She found Mrs. Fluke a good-natured, 
 obliging woman, and an amusing companion, and 
 by degrees ceased to remember that she never 
 had any parents. As to Aline, she soon became 
 quite as fond of her as of her own grandchildren, 
 and Mr. Bull w^as, if possible, still fonder. The 
 child took to calling them granny and daddy, and 
 was quite happy when allowed to be with them 
 and Wolf, Jack, and Tom. Fluke paid for every-
 
 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 115 
 
 thing they wanted liberally, and there seemed to 
 be no lack of money. 
 
 If there was any complaint to be made, it was 
 that Fluke kept Aline in the parlour whenever 
 any of the Lyons' children came to the Downs, 
 and would not let her associate with them. " It 
 was too ridiculous," Mrs. Bull said, ''that the 
 maid should be grander than her mistress." But 
 so it was. Many things to which Madam Ram- 
 bully would have been indifferent Fluke was very 
 obstinate about. 
 
 Meanwhile Aline enjoyed life thoroughly. She 
 continued the wanderings she had begun the first 
 day of her arrival at the farm, and whilst her 
 mother dozed away her afternoon^ she, the old 
 dog, and the jackdaw were to be seen together out 
 of doors. By degrees she made acquaintance 
 with the cows, pigs, and poultry, helped Mr, Bull 
 to feed the horses, Joan to milk the cows, John 
 Dull and Wolf to run after the sheep ; in short, 
 became a child of the farm, in every sense of the 
 word. 
 
 She made hay all the haymaking time, and 
 rode about in the waggons ; she ferretted out 
 fresh eggs for her mother in the hayloft; she 
 brought her milk fresh from the cow every after- 
 noon at milking-time ; and finally collected matter 
 every day to amuse her in her solitary blindness.
 
 116 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 With much persuasion she induced her to go 
 and sit in the morning in her bower of honey- 
 suckles and lilies, and in the early, hot, summer 
 evenings under the shade of the tall elms near the 
 chapel, by the brook ; or she guided her steps 
 gently up the Downs in the cool of the day, seated 
 her on the short turfy grass, and read or talked 
 to her, whilst the breezes played around them, 
 and the sun sank majestically behind the opposite 
 hills. 
 
 Here, once or twice, Lachlan stumbled upon 
 them, when, book in hand, he sought the Downs 
 for solitude and study after a hard day's work in 
 the fields. Aline brought him to her mother, 
 and made him sit down beside her, and tell her 
 of Australia and its many-coloured birds, its 
 wonderful productions, its natives, and its settlers. 
 
 Out of Lachlan's realities, and the idealities of 
 her many fairy tale-books. Aline wrought won- 
 derful romances, and peopled an imaginary world 
 with creatures born from her fruitful fancy, and 
 nurtured by her glowing mind. 
 
 After maturing her plans. Fluke broached the 
 subject of Aline's education to her mistress. At 
 first Madam Rambully declared that the child 
 .learnt of her own accord, and would know quite 
 as much as she wa,nted, but by degrees she began 
 to see that more might be necessary. Fluke
 
 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 117 
 
 mentioned Miss Eagles, and finally had her way. 
 Aline strongly objected at first, and told Fluke 
 that nothing should induce her to give up her 
 out-of-door lessons for indoor ones ; but when her 
 mother said they would not begin until the ap- 
 proach of winter, she yielded. 
 
 The upshot of it all was, that one fine after- 
 noon in the beginning of September saw Miss 
 Eagles at the farm. Madam Rambully was 
 asleep, and Aline was out of doors. Fluke went 
 to Miss Eagles in the hall : she curtseyed to her 
 as she came in, apologized for the absence of her 
 mistress, and began the scholastic subject at once. 
 " Could Miss Eagles give Miss Rambully a few 
 hours' instruction daily ?" 
 
 " I should prefer communicating with Madam 
 Rambully on the subject," was Miss Eagles' 
 somewhat haughty answer. 
 
 Fluke fired up. 
 
 " I am in the 'abit of transacting all my lady's 
 business, ma'am. You are aware she is blind ?" 
 
 ''That need not prevent her speaking to me. 
 I shall not intrude. I will wait." 
 
 Fluke looked at Miss Eagles. She had hitherto 
 only seen her at a distance. She was in the 
 presence of a lady even more resolute than her- 
 self, of that she felt sure, and she hoped that she 
 would be able to manage Aline.
 
 118 XOTHINO VENTURE, NOTHING HAYE. 
 
 " I will speak to my mistress, ma'am, but she 
 seldom sees strangers." 
 
 Flake disappeared. 
 
 Miss Eagles was a handsome young woman, of 
 middle height, lady-like appearance, and rather 
 forbidding manners. Quick black eyes looked 
 out from beneath a pair of black eyebrows that 
 nearly met above the nose, and gave a some- 
 what fierce expression to a face that was other- 
 wise essentially feminine. She was of very dark 
 complexion, and through its clear brown the 
 warm blood was for ever flushing, and giving a 
 glow to the cheeks like the last red flickerings of 
 the sun above the horizon at twilight. This, 
 and an occasional firm setting of the lips, as if 
 the teeth suddenly clenched, again proved that 
 Kern was not far wrong in her estimate of this 
 lady's temper. 
 
 Mrs. Bull came into the hall. Miss Eagles 
 kissed her with some degree of warmth, but the 
 salute was not returned as warmly. 
 
 " You have never been here since " said 
 
 Mrs. Bull, bursting into tears. 
 
 '*I could not," was the brief reply. 
 
 Fluke returned. 
 
 " My mistress will see you. Miss Eagles : but 
 she is very nervous, and perhaps you will be 
 careful of what you say to her."
 
 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 119 
 
 " I shall say nothing but what is absolutely 
 necessary." 
 
 Madam EambuUy had put on her bonnet, 
 goggles, and blue veil ; she bowed as Miss 
 Eagles entered, and murmured some sort of 
 salutation. Then there was a perfect silence, 
 broken at last by Miss Eagles. 
 
 " You wish me to teach your daughter, 
 madam ?" 
 
 " We have been thinking of it, if it can be 
 accomplished. But I am an invalid, and cannot 
 bear any excitement; and Aline has had her 
 own way, and I am afraid she will not like it." 
 
 " I could come every day froni twelve till two. 
 My terms would be one shilling an hour." 
 
 " That is rather " 
 
 " If you think it too much, I could come for 
 twenty pounds a year, deducting the usual holi- 
 days at Midsummer and Easter." 
 
 " I thought it too little, — not too much." 
 
 " Thank you ; I should be satisfied." 
 
 " You teach " 
 
 " Whatever your child likes to learn ; I pro- 
 fess to teach everything." 
 
 " Everything ?" 
 
 " Yes ; from Greek and Latin down to mark- 
 ing samplers." 
 
 This was said with one of the quick flushes,
 
 120 NOTHiisra venture, nothing have. 
 
 and in a tone that told on Madam Ram- 
 bully. 
 
 Miss Eagles had a very flexible, well-modulated 
 voice in speaking. 
 
 Just at this juncture Aline came in. She 
 started back on seeing Miss Eagles, who made 
 her a forbidding little nod. But Aline came 
 forward, curtseyed, and said, " How do you do, 
 ma'am," just as Fluke had been tutoring her to 
 do, previously. 
 
 " You know Miss Eagles, Aline ?" said her 
 mother. 
 
 " I have seen her at church, mamma." 
 
 " Will you try to learn of her ? She is kind 
 enough to say she will teach you." 
 
 " If you wish it. But I know I shall not like 
 sitting down to lessons. I can't learn grammar 
 and five-syllable spelling with meanings, and do 
 great long sums, and all those things Fluke talks 
 of; indeed I cannot, Miss Eagles." 
 
 Miss Eagles shot a quick glance at the 
 child. 
 
 " You would like long sums if you were taught 
 the right way. Kern Lyons likes them." 
 
 " She looks very clever." 
 
 " She is clever." 
 
 ''Who is that?" asked Madam Eambully. 
 
 " Mrs. Bull's granddaughter, mamma ; the
 
 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 121 
 
 pretty girl I told you of. I should like to learn 
 with her." 
 
 "Do you teach her, Miss Eagles?" asked 
 Madam Rambully. 
 
 " A little, occasionally. She is very anxious 
 to learn." 
 
 " Could she come here and learn with Aline, do 
 you think ? It would be good for both, perhaps." 
 
 "Yery," said Miss Eagles. "If you really 
 wish it, I am sure I could manage it." 
 
 *' How cross Fluke will be !" said Aline. 
 
 " You can come when you like. Miss Eagles — 
 at your own time, and on your own terms," said 
 Madam Rambully. 
 
 " On Monday, then, if you please, — at twelve 
 o'clock. Good morning." 
 
 Miss Eagles nodded to Aline, and left the 
 room. Fluke met her in the passage, but she 
 did not stop to speak to her. She went out 
 quickly by the back door into the garden, and 
 up the Downs. As she ascended the hill, she 
 drew a long breath, and said, " It is something 
 to have to do with a gentlewoman : but the 
 child is slow. I think Kern will have her heart's 
 desire, if this can be arranged." 
 
 At the top of the Downs she stopped, and 
 drew another long breath, then looked down 
 upon the calm farm-house.
 
 122 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 " The air of that place stifles me," she said. 
 " It will be the climax to go there and teach 
 daily. I shall see her in every corner, hear her 
 in every breath. Dear, sweet, gentle Mary! 
 You and Mrs. EavcD, the only true women in 
 the world, and both gone ! Oh, brother ! brother ! 
 why were you sent here to cause so much 
 grief?" 
 
 " Miss Eagles !" said a voice from behind her. 
 
 It was Matthew Lyons. 
 
 She started, and the black eyebrows met. 
 
 "I have been waiting for you. I saw you 
 come across the Down, and was determined to 
 see you once more before I go away. Not that 
 you care whether I go or stay, — and yet it is on 
 your account. I'm sure I don't mind whether I 
 make my fortune or not ; what is it to me, when 
 you won't have anything to say to me ?" 
 
 " Matthew, — I thought we had finished this 
 foolish affair long ago. Why will you fancy 
 yourself a man, when you are still a boy ?" 
 
 "A boy! I shall be nineteen next Christ- 
 mas !" 
 
 " Matthew, — listen to me for the last time. I 
 am nearly ten years older than you, — and were 
 that the only objection, it would be insuperable 
 with me ; but there are fifty others, which you 
 know as well as I do, therefore, why do you
 
 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 123 
 
 torment me ? Have I not enough worry without 
 this?" 
 
 " I can't help it, Miss Eagles ; I love you so ! 
 I am going away from you, but I shall carry the 
 pain wherever I go; and if mother dies of a 
 broken heart— as she says she shall — it will be 
 your fault. But you are too proud to take a 
 farmer's son, though we are of good family, and 
 I don't see but a farmer's as good as a school- 
 master, any day !" 
 
 " Yery likely ; so, good-bye, Matthew, if you 
 are determined to go to Australia." 
 
 "Mayn't I walk home with you this once? 
 Oh ! to think there should be a woman in the 
 world so hard-hearted !" 
 
 " No ; — good-bye ! You will soon forget me 
 for some younger, and prettier, and happier girl. 
 I thank you for your love. Good-bye !" 
 
 They were at the gate leading from the Downs 
 into the road. Miss Eagles walked hastily up 
 the hill, away from the village, and Matthew 
 stood looking after her, and declaring that he 
 would go and hang himself. 
 
 In less than ten minutes she arrived at a little 
 green lane, up which she turned, and then at a 
 small green gate that opened into a garden. 
 Here she and her father lived. 
 
 Their habitation was a small thatched cottage,
 
 124 NOTHINa VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 containing five or six rooms. It was said to 
 have been originally a lodge to the old manor 
 house, and had a stone porch behind, which was 
 all that remained of its antiquity. Now a rustic 
 verandah was thrown all round it, which was 
 laden with every kind of creeping plant. About 
 the four latticed windows in front were abun- 
 dance of roses and honeysuckles, and in the 
 window-seats within were many choice hot-house 
 flowers. As you stood in the little garden, the 
 perfume of flowers, the hum of bees, the buzz of 
 flies, the songs of birds, the nameless and unseen 
 mysteries of the summer atmosphere, all com- 
 bined to delight the senses, and no one would 
 believe that the struggles of poverty could ever 
 be known within such an elysium. The eye 
 rested on nothing but the various greens of the 
 varied foliage, and the bright colours of many- 
 hued flowers : the mind thought of the taste and 
 poetry of the individuals who could have trans- 
 formed a common cottage home and cottage 
 garden into such an earthly paradise. 
 
 Even the schoolroom did not interfere, to show 
 that other cultivation than that of nature went 
 on here. It was situated at the back of the 
 house, quite apart from it, having been once 
 another cottage. 
 
 The inside was in keeping with the outside.
 
 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 125 
 
 Of the two front rooms, one was a carpeted 
 parlour, the other a matted hall. The walls of 
 the former were covered with every kind of 
 water-colour drawing and oil painting ; of the 
 latter with light-green bookshelves filled with 
 books. The furniture was of the simplest kind, 
 manufactured, principally, by Mr. Eagles him- 
 self ; but so tasteful!}^ painted in light-green and 
 white, that a stranger would ask whence the 
 elegant articles came. Such little drapery as 
 there was, up-stairs and down, was white ; and 
 through the small open windows, each with its 
 half lattice protruding outwards, floated clear 
 muslin curtains, touching the clematis and roses. 
 
 Miss Eagles ran up-stairs, and threw her 
 bonnet on her neat little bed. She was more 
 remarkable without her bonnet than with it 
 — her black hair drawn, in the Madonna style, 
 across her somewhat low forehead, and twisted 
 like a coiled snake round the back of her head. 
 It was a head in which a phrenologist would 
 have rejoiced, — well shaped, well set on the thin 
 neck, and the masses of hair so smooth that the 
 hand longed to touch it. 
 
 She did not stop to look in the glass, but was 
 in the parlour, and by her father's side, in a few 
 seconds. 
 
 He was seated at a desk, writing. She put
 
 126 NOTHiisra venture, nothing have. 
 
 her hand on his bald head and kissed his fore- 
 head. 
 
 " Ellen ! Light of my eyes," he said, looking 
 up. 
 
 As those two pairs of black, bright, piercing 
 eyes met, they might have been indeed the eyes 
 of real eagles, as they were those of nominal 
 ones. 
 
 "T will get tea, and then I will tell you all," 
 said Ellen. 
 
 On the green and w^hite table-cloth was laid 
 out a green and white tea-service. 
 
 The boys used to sing the i*hyme — 
 
 " Green and wliite, 
 Love forsaken quite," 
 
 and call her *'The Forsaken," because she was 
 so fond of the union of these two colours. She 
 liked them because they reminded her of lilies in 
 their leaves. And yet to look at her darkling 
 brows, and painfully fixed lips, you would not 
 have thought her romantic or sentimental. 
 
 She went into her small, neat kitchen, where a 
 tidy girl was intently watching the tea-kettle. 
 
 " Does the kettle boil, Jenny ?" she asked. 
 
 *' A'moast, Miss. Her a been a bwoiling, an' 
 I took her off, and now her be as obstinate as a 
 pig, and won't bwoil no hows."
 
 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 127 
 
 " It was all you had to do, Jenny, and my 
 father wants his tea." 
 
 "Zay zo, Miss. I cleaned up, and went to 
 pwost." 
 
 " Any letter ?" 
 
 " No, Miss." 
 
 A shade of disappointment passed over Miss 
 Eagles' face. 
 
 She prepared tea, aided b}" Jenny and her 
 father, and she looked happy enough as they sat 
 down together. 
 
 " A tea dinner," said Mr. Eagles. " I like it. 
 It saves time. Cold meat, eggs, strawberries, — 
 you think of everything, my child. Bless you — 
 and bless Him also, the Giver of all good." 
 
 Mr. Eagles stood up and reverently said grace. 
 
 " And now for your visit ?" 
 
 " A sickly, lackadaisical, fine lady; but blind, 
 — so we must be pitiful, I suppose. Everybody 
 excuses everything, except not giving in and 
 maundering over one's troubles. That is called 
 insensibility. A child with a singular face and 
 manner, eyes so large that they denote either 
 water on the brain or extreme innocence : not 
 clever, I should say. A shrewd servant, who 
 would have been amusing, I am sure, if one had 
 let her. This Madam Eambully is a gentle- 
 woman in spite of her name. Good manners,
 
 128 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 and what is better, a ladylike mind. She thought 
 my modest shilling an hour too little, and did 
 not try to beat me down to sixpence. Neither 
 did she propose sending any of the produce of 
 Mr. Bull's farm in payment." 
 
 " Well, love. After all it is not a custom to 
 be despised. These eggs were in return for the 
 multiplication table, boxed into the ears of Simon 
 Slow. I caned this piece of ham out of Sam 
 Fleece ; and as to milk, it comes daily, for a daily 
 tugging at poor little Billy Flower's dense brains. 
 The very bread is made from wheat, grown from 
 seed, sown in the somewhat stony ground of 
 Squire Low. Then what butter we get out of 
 those roaring young Lyons, Mark and Luke !" 
 
 "I am glad you can jest upon it, father; but 
 it is odious to me. I am to go from twelve to 
 two, so I shall take the poor Vicarage on my way, 
 if I am to continue the music lessons now she is 
 gone. Miss Love twice a week as I return, and 
 the other children here, as usual, in the afternoon 
 We will dine at five, and then — oh ! I forgot. 
 That evening class of yours ! It spoils our little 
 pleasure, father." 
 
 " It does some good, Ellen, and gives us a few 
 pence and potatoes." 
 
 "I wish you wouldn't jest in that grim way. 
 It is like a flower in a skull."
 
 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS. 129 
 
 " Well that a flower can grow anywhere, my 
 sunshine. You are my flower, always bright to 
 my eyes. And Mrs. Bull ? What of her ?" 
 
 It was now the turn of Mr. Eagles' black and 
 grey eyebrows to meet. 
 
 " Kind as ever. And I fell in with Mr. Bat, 
 who asked for you, and promised to send you 
 some prime seed of some kind or other, and me a 
 new geranium." 
 
 " Have 5' ou seen Mr. Oliver lately ? He never 
 comes here now." 
 
 " No. He is more supercilious, reserved, and 
 distant than ever. Once a friend, always a 
 friend, is my motto. ^ Je ne change quen mourant' 
 A capricious man is not worthy of the name of 
 man. Is not that young Lachlan Lyons ? There 
 is some strength of will and purpose in him. I 
 like the boy." 
 
 " He is a mathematical genius, and beats me 
 already. Self-taught, and with his own odd 
 means and rules in his brain, he arrives at calcu- 
 lations and theories that it would take me time to 
 work out. Teaching would be pleasant work if 
 all pupils were like him." 
 
 " And like Kern Lyons. It seems a pity they 
 are not both well educated." 
 
 *' They will teach themselves, I dare say." 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 NOTHINa VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 LACHLAN KNIGHTED. 
 
 Mr. Eagles's evening class consisted principally 
 of young men whose daily occupations prevented 
 them from improving themselves, and who gave 
 up an hour of an evening to that object. Lachlan 
 was early on that particular day, and Mr. Eagles 
 joined him before his usual time. 
 
 " What of the museum ?" he asked. 
 
 "My uncle has given me the use of the old 
 loft I told you of, sir, and my cousin Kern is 
 helping me to arrange the specimens." 
 
 " And the boxes you left at Southampton ?" 
 
 "Uncle says they may come here, together 
 with the birds and dogs." 
 
 " Yery good. When you have arranged them 
 and classified them as well as you can, we will 
 see about the lectures. All the young men in 
 the neighbourhood are wild to hear what you can
 
 LACHLAN KNIGHTED. 131 
 
 say about Australia, and you may as well try to 
 tell it to them all at once as by scraps^ when 
 they ean get hold of you. You may earn a trifle 
 in this way. Those articles in the * Dorset 
 Director/ written, they say, by Captain Love, 
 are simply absurd, because he knows nothing of 
 his subject. They will only lead people astray. 
 You can give your own experience." 
 
 "But I am too young, sir. I should not have 
 courage. And I am not a ready speaker." 
 . " Yes, you are. Besides, you have nothing to 
 do but to say what you know of the country, the 
 inhabitants, the great fossil remains, the strata, 
 the animals, birds, &c. You have fossils, feathers, 
 nests, curiosities enough to illustrate what you 
 say, and even some live animals to amuse the 
 young people. You must think it all over, when 
 I know not." 
 
 " Oh, that is the easiest part. I do that whilst 
 at my field-work." 
 
 " Bravo ! And how are you to pay the 
 carriage ?" 
 
 " Out of a sovereign Miss Harriet Daw gave 
 me when I met her on the Downs." 
 
 " Good. You have paid me half of that 
 already. The lectures will buy you books, 
 mathematical instruments, and perhaps a new 
 coat."
 
 132 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 " I don't mind the coat, sir, except for Sundays, 
 and when I come here or go to the Downs." 
 
 " And how do you get on with the boys ?" 
 
 " Pretty well. They bother me as much as 
 they can. Ever since young Love has been at 
 home — Bullying Bob, as they call him — he sets 
 them on, I think. But I put on a bold face^ and 
 give them as good as they give me in my 
 fashion." 
 
 " And what is that ?" 
 
 " Oh ! sometimes a joke, and sometimes a keen 
 word. But it all came from my folly about the 
 baronetcy. They all call me Sir Lackland." 
 
 "Ah! ah! not so bad. But you must bear 
 that and a great deal more, if you mean to get 
 on in life. And the village magnates ?" 
 
 " Never look at me. Mr. Bat asked me to go 
 aud see him, but I have not had time ; and Mr. 
 Raven spoke to me on Sunday, when I went with 
 Cousin Kezia to the school. Two of my Aunt 
 Daws walk past me as if I was a savage, and 
 Miss Love turns up her nose and shakes her curls. 
 I don't admire her, so I don't mind." 
 
 " Oh ! that's the reason. And the problem ?" 
 
 " I was up till two this morning, and then my 
 candle went out, and I was obliged to go to bed. 
 I bought a halfpenny candle, and it is done." 
 
 " But not the problem ? Let's see,"
 
 LACHLAN KNIGHTED. 133 
 
 Mr. Eagles and Lachlan were deep in Euclid 
 when the other young men came, and the class 
 began. 
 
 There was one of them who particularly excited 
 Mr. Eagles' ire. His name was Low. There 
 was no doubt that he was rather dall. Lachlan 
 had an interest in him, nevertheless, because he 
 was a lover of his cousin Jemima, and he had 
 heard that as soon as he could do the rule of 
 three^ had learnt the parts of speech, the capitals 
 of the countries of Europe, and the names of the 
 twelve patriarchs, she would have him. He 
 was now working hard to achieve this great end. 
 
 Everybody laughed at him, except Lachlan, 
 who had done his best to help him, and taught 
 himself the three last accomplishments, in teach- 
 ing him. The twelve patriarchs had been easily 
 managed, because there were various boys in the 
 country named after them, whom Lachlan strung 
 together for his purpose. They had got over the 
 parts of speech by means of their initial letter, a 
 nap vap ci; but beyond England, chief town 
 London ; and Turkey, chief town Constantinople, 
 they had not yet proceeded in the capital cities. 
 As to the rule of three that was still more hope- 
 less. 
 
 Mr. Eagles flung " The Tutor " down on the 
 table in a passion every evening; for every
 
 134 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 evening Mr. Low would say " Multiply the first 
 and second figures together, and — " when Lachlan 
 would give him a tug, and he would change it 
 into " Divide the second and third figures together, 
 and multiply the product by the first." 
 
 " Well, Low," began Mr. Eagles, " have you 
 got over Europe yet ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Eussia ? What's the capital of Eussia ?" 
 
 " St. Petersburg." 
 
 "Yerygood. France?" "Paris." "Holland?" 
 " Athens." 
 
 This was always a stumbling-block. Amster- 
 dam and Athens, and Berlin and Bergen, were 
 mixed up in his mind. 
 
 " Not Athens !" thundered Mr. Eagles. 
 
 " To be sure, sir. No, 'tis that other A that 
 ends in ' colt.' " 
 
 '' Amsterdam, dolt!" said Mr. Eagles. 
 
 '* Prussia?" 
 
 " St. Petersburg." 
 
 " No ; that's Eussia." 
 
 " To be sure, sir. I meant Prussia ; chief 
 town Eussia." 
 
 Mr. Eagles threw down the book. 
 
 " You must try those again. Now see if you 
 have managed the patriarchs." 
 
 He always shut his eyes when he went through
 
 LACHLAN KNIGHTED. 135 
 
 this portion of his task; because, as he told 
 Lachlan, he could fancy all the namesakes of the 
 patriarchs better with his eyes shut. He went 
 through them at full gallop, without a single 
 pause, until he came to the eleventh name ; 
 when, as if by some evil influence, he said 
 " Jemima," instead of *' Joseph." This was too 
 much, even for Mr. Eagles, who joined in the 
 general laugh. Low laughed as heartily as the 
 rest, and blushed, saying — 
 
 " Well, sir, 'tis those capitals that puzzle me. 
 They're all A's and P's, and J's, over and over 
 again. Dang me if I'll try any more." 
 
 " Faint heart never won fair lady," said Mr. 
 Eagles. "• That would have been very well, but 
 for the young lady, and she is so good-looking 
 that I don't wonder she was more in your mind 
 than the others. Now, for the rule of three." 
 
 Thanks to the joke about Jemima, Mr. Eagles 
 was not quite so irascible over the rule of three 
 as he had been for several previous evenings ; and 
 when the class broke up, he told young Low that 
 he really thought he would soon be able to claim 
 his bride. Mr. Eagles had been let into the 
 secret from the first, because not one word would 
 Low learn beyond those absolutely necessary for 
 his purpose ; and Mr. Eagles wished to impart 
 some more useful information.
 
 136 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 Low followed Lachlan to the Downs, discuss- 
 ing the chances in his favour for a speedy 
 union. 
 
 '' You see, I'm very much obliged to you, 
 Lachlan," he said *, " because I should never have 
 learnt 'em but for you. I come up here with my 
 books, and try to fancy all the houses I see one 
 o' them furreign countries — just as you told me : 
 and then, when I've got as far as Switzerland, 
 chief town Berne, I can't help looking down at 
 the Manor, and thinking how my heart burns for 
 Mima, and wondering what on earth put it into 
 her head to make such a fool o' me. I shall 
 always call the Manor, Zwitzerland, and the 
 chimley Burn, as long as I live." 
 
 Low was so wrapped up in his subject, and 
 Lachlan was so intent on finding an excuse for 
 getting rid of him, that they had taken no notice 
 of a large party of boys, who had assembled, as 
 they usually did of an evening, for games of ball 
 and cricket. They were not, however, unnoticed 
 by the boys, or by a young man, who was appa- 
 rently playing with them. Suddenly the cricket- 
 ball rolled close to Lachlan and Low, and there 
 was a general rush of all the party after it. The 
 young man who was foremost stumbled violently 
 against Lachlan and knocked him down ; and be- 
 fore he could get up, gave him a smart blow on
 
 LACHLAJf KNIGHTED. 137 
 
 the shoulder with what appeared to be a sword, 
 and exclaimed — 
 
 " Arise ! Sir ' Loin/ " 
 
 There was a roar of laughter, and a general 
 shout of the village children and farmers' sons, of 
 " Arise ! Sir Loin." 
 
 Mark and Luke were amongst them, and 
 shouted lustily. 
 
 Lachlan was not long in obeying the command. 
 He rose, and glared round him for a moment. He 
 was in a passion, and no wonder. He marked 
 his enemy; and before he could have counted 
 five, Master Eobert Love was rolling on the turf. 
 It was he who had upset him. 
 
 As it chanced, they were on the brow of the 
 hill, and the young gentleman continued his 
 ignoble journey down it, until he was caught in a 
 furze-bush. 
 
 Low turned to look for Lachlan, who had 
 watched the descent of his enemy with some con- 
 sternation, and was waiting to see whether he 
 would get out of the furze-bush. Low saw Mark 
 and Luke slinking home, and caught them each 
 by an arm ; and in spite of vigorous struggling, 
 hauled them towards Lachlan. 
 
 " Now, young chaps, beg your cousin's pardon, 
 directly," he said ; ^' if you don't, I'll take 'ee to 
 your vather, and tell him aU about it."
 
 138 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 '* Don't be a fool, George," roared Mark. 
 
 '^ Be hanged if I do," cried Luke. 
 
 '' Then I'll roll 'ee both down into the yuzz- 
 bush, top o' Bullying Bob," said Low, giving 
 them each a shake^ and half tumbling them down 
 on the turf. 
 
 " Be quiet, George. I'll tell 'Mima," cried 
 the urchins. 
 
 '' Now, here goes ! Cousin's pardon^ or down 
 you roll." 
 
 '' Hang it ! I humbly beg your pardon/' said 
 Luke, making a face at Lachlan. 
 
 *^Beg your pardon, grant your grace, " 
 
 began Mark. 
 
 " Do let them go, George," said Lachlan. '^ I 
 don't want them to beg my pardon." 
 
 " But they shall, all the same ;" and by dint 
 of shaking and shoving, the pardon was begged. 
 
 " Now you may go home," said George. 
 
 " Thank'ee, I'm going to look after Bob Love. 
 Oh, oh ! don't he look grand down in the furze," 
 said Luke. 
 
 Certainly, the young gentleman in question 
 made but a sorry figure. He was kicking and 
 sprawling in the middle of the furze, and quite 
 incapable of rising ; for the impetus of his descent 
 had sent him so far into the bushes, that the 
 prickles attacked him on all sides.
 
 LACHLAN KNIGHTED. 139 
 
 " Let 'un alone !" said George. '^ 'Twill do 'un 
 good/' as Laelilan made a movement. 
 
 But Lachlan was off down the hill, and had 
 soon succeeded in extricating his enemy. Hav- 
 ing done this, and seen that no harm had hap- 
 pened beyond a scratched face and hands^ and 
 torn pantaloons, he left him with a look of dis- 
 gust. Not so Low, however. No sooner did he 
 see him limping up the hill, than he was after 
 him ; caught him by the arm, and lugged him, 
 in his turn, towards Lachlan. 
 
 Master Eobert Love was bigger and older 
 than Lachlan, nevertheless he was a child in the 
 muscular paw of George Low. 
 
 " Beg your cousin's pardon, sir," he cried, 
 with a voice like a smith's bellows. 
 
 " He ain't my cousin," growled Master Love. 
 
 " Yes he be ; and you shall own 'un for this 
 once, at least. Say, ' Cousin, I beg your pardon.' " 
 
 He was obliged to say it before the resolute 
 Low would let him off; and having done so 
 slunk away, whilst Lachlan was saying — 
 
 " I don't want you to beg my pardon or to be 
 my cousin." 
 
 " Well done, Bullying Bob," screamed Mark 
 and Luke, clapping their hands. 
 
 '' You young rascals," said Low. *' What 
 did 'ee mean by knocking cousin down ?"
 
 140 N^OTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 *' 'Twas only fun. They said they wanted to 
 make a barrownight of him at once, and we 
 joined. We didn't mean any harm. Cousin 
 Lachlan," said Mark. 
 
 " But I don't beg your pardon," said Luke, 
 running off as hard as he could. 
 
 It was dark and supper-time before they 
 reached the Manor. Luke was telling the story 
 to his assembled relations. 
 
 *' Well done, George ! Bravo, George ! Didn't 
 think he had such spirit !" greeted that hero, as 
 he entered the hall. 
 
 He hung his head as if he had been commit- 
 ting a crime, when he heard the encomiums. 
 Every true hero is equally modest. 
 
 '' Shalt have 'Mima with all my heart, George," 
 said Mr. Lyons, clapping him on the back. " I'm 
 as glad as if I had a hundred pounds, that you've 
 pulled down Bullying Bob a peg or so. Shalt 
 have either of my girls. Pick and choose; 
 spirit's better than learning, any day. There's 
 Kern, the beauty, if you like to wait for her, 
 and " 
 
 " Really, father, I must beg " said indig- 
 nant Kern. 
 
 " You needn't trouble yourself, Kern," said 
 Jemima ; " he don't want you." 
 
 " If he did, he wouldn't have me."
 
 LACHLAN" KNIGHTED. 141 
 
 " I wish, Job, you woulcln t talk of letting 
 the dear children leave us," said Mrs. Lyons. 
 " There's Matthew has just been nearly killing 
 me — and I ain't so far from death as you all 
 think : and now you want to get rid of another, 
 and all along of Lachlan's coming here. I shall 
 be left alone in my old age, and all the dear 
 angels gone, nobody knows where. It is very 
 unfeeling." 
 
 " Lor, mother ! how you do go on always," 
 said Jemima. " You spoil all our bit of 
 fun." 
 
 *' But if mother is to live to old age," said 
 Kern, sarcastically, '' how can she be so near 
 death ?" 
 
 '^ Now, do come to supper," interposed Kezia. 
 " Cousin, I hope you weren't hurt ?" 
 
 '' Oh ! wasn't he in a passion though !" said 
 Luke. " You should 'a seen him knock down 
 Bob Love.'' 
 
 '' I'm proud of my nephew," said Mr. Lyons. 
 '' I'd rather have seen that than all the sums 
 from here to London." 
 
 " You really don't mind my knocking him 
 down, uncle ? I thought you might have been 
 angry." 
 
 " Mind it ! I should think not. 'Tis the 
 proudest day of my life. They've trampled
 
 142 isroTHiNa ventuee, nothing have. 
 
 enough upon your poor father, and now it's our 
 turn." 
 
 " Sit there, George, by Jemima," said Kezia. 
 
 George blushed and obeyed. 
 
 " I said all the parts of speech, zome o' the 
 countries, and amost all the patriarchs, till I 
 came to Joseph, and then, somehow, Jemima 
 slipped out," he whispered, when they were 
 seated : " but I shall never do the rule o' three. 
 Now, what's the good ? I can manage the varm 
 with addition, substraction, and multiplication ; 
 why should I go and mix and mel'em all to- 
 gether in that voolish way ?" 
 
 " Never mind, George *, never mind," said 
 Jemima, giving him a nudge, and looking at her 
 father who had caught the words, and was enjoy- 
 ing the joke. ''I don't mind any more, now 
 that you've been so brave. There are the twins 
 crying ; I must go and see." 
 
 Jemima went to the cradle by the fire with a 
 face redder than usual ; but the twins were 
 happily asleep. 
 
 " Jemima will have that country bumpkin after 
 all, we shall see," w^hispered Kern to Lachlan. 
 " He talks almost as broad as the farm men." 
 
 " He's a capital fellow," said Lachlan, enthu- 
 siastically. " I wish I was half such a man. 
 Why, he's as strong and brave as a lion."
 
 LACHLAN KNIGHTED. 143 
 
 " I'll marry a gentleman^ or I'll die an old 
 maid," said Kern. 
 
 " Like the Miss Daws," cried Luke, who had 
 heard every word from the other side of Kern. 
 " Mrs. Kerenhappuch Lyons ! Doesn't that 
 sound grand, father ?" 
 
 " We'll have a bottle of the best October, 
 Kezia, to drink G-eorge's health. Bring the beer- 
 glasses, Mima, whilst you're up," said Mr. 
 Lyons. " Mat ! what's the matter ? Cheer up, 
 lad ! I'm afraid Miss-^ " 
 
 "Hush! father," said Kezia, "that's no joking 
 matter." 
 
 " I'm sure Matthew ought to be low-spirited 
 when he's been making me so miserable," said 
 Mrs. Lyons. " I don't know who all my children 
 turn after. None of 'em have any feeling." 
 
 " Never mind the feeling, mother," said 
 Jemima. "Let's look on the bright side of 
 things." 
 
 " And drink your health as well as George's, 
 I suppose," said Mr. Lyons. 
 
 The October came, and under its influence 
 Mrs. Lyons forgot her feelings, and George his 
 shyness ; and the rest of the evening was so con- 
 vivial, that even Matthew cheered up and made 
 one or two jokes upon George and Jemima, which 
 they bore philosophically.
 
 144 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 LACHLAN'S LECTURES. 
 
 The events of which the germ was laid in the 
 last two chapters, came into flower or fruit dur- 
 ing the following two years. Miss Eagles went 
 daily to the Downs Farm to teach Aline ; and 
 Kern Lyons went also daily to learn with her. 
 Madam Rambully remained in her bedroom till 
 the lessons were over, and Miss Eagles had her 
 pupils to herself. She was to teach Aline what- 
 ever she thought she could learn without great 
 difiQculty, with the exception of drawing, for 
 which the child evinced a taste, but which 
 Madam Rambully strictly forbade her learning. 
 
 Fluke had made periodical visits to the 
 neighbouring town, and, it was supposed by 
 John Dull, Joan, and others, had received letters 
 from the post-office, and money from the bank ; 
 for she had been seen writing before she had 
 made her visits— answering her letters, it was
 
 lachlan's lectures. 145 
 
 suggested, against she got them — and had always 
 returned with stores of everything needful for 
 the family wardrobe and consumption. 
 
 Madam Rambully still wore her bonnet, veil, 
 and " goggles," in the presence of strangers, and 
 not even Mrs. Bull had seen her without them, 
 except by chance. When the reason of this 
 strange custom was asked, Fluke's ready answer 
 always was, that her mistress was very nervous 
 about her sight, and could not bear to be looked 
 at, because her eyes were inflamed. 
 
 The sight, however, somewhat improved. 
 Certainly, if rest could strengthen her eyes, they 
 ought to have been strong enough ; for she slept, 
 or seemed to sleep, away more than three parts 
 of her life. 
 
 Mr. Raven and his sister called as soon as 
 they were able to go about their usual parish 
 work, after Mrs. Raven's funeral. As Fluke 
 had heard that they were to do so, it was settled, 
 after much consultation, that they were to be 
 received by Fluke and Aline ; but it happened 
 that they came upon Madam Rambully when she 
 was sitting under the elms by the chapel, and 
 made themselves known to her through Aline, 
 who was with her. 
 
 As Mr. and Miss Raven were both shy people, 
 and much out of spirits, they did not become 
 
 VOL. T. L
 
 146 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 very intimate during this short visit. Moreover, 
 Mr. Eaven Ivnew that he intended it as a minis- 
 terial visit, and had meant to press upon Madam 
 Ram bully the necessity of going to church, and 
 various religious matters bearing upon her un- 
 certain position in his parish ; but he found it 
 impossible to carry out his intentions. They 
 talked of the country and the farm, whilst Miss 
 Raven and Aline talked of more congenial 
 matters ; and so the time passed slowly, until the 
 usual quarter of an hour of a first call was 
 over. 
 
 " I like them, mamma !" was Aline's exclama- 
 tion, when they were gone. 
 
 '' Yes, my love, so do I ; but how unfortunate 
 they should have found us here." 
 
 " Oh, no, mamma. A clergyman will do you 
 good. I am sure he will ; he is better than a 
 doctor. He preaches such kind sermons, and is 
 so gentle. But he looked so frightened ! He is 
 not handsome, and so tall and thin ! And you 
 know he wears spectacles like you ; blue ones, 
 too. I could scarcely help laughing at him when 
 he tried to look at you through his blue glasses, 
 and your blue veil and blue spectacles." 
 
 " What is Miss Raven like ?" 
 
 a Yery like Mr. Raven, mamma. I think they 
 must be twins, like Jacob and Esau Lyons. She
 
 lachlan's lectures. 147 
 
 asked me to go and see her little nieces. Wasn't 
 that kind, mamma ? And may I go ?" 
 
 *' I think not, Aline ; we must ask Fluke." 
 
 " Oh ! Fluke will be sure to say no ; she is so 
 cross." 
 
 But Mr. Raven came again, and again ; and 
 Miss Eaven also, though seldom together. Some- 
 times they saw Madam Eambully, sometimes 
 they did not ; but during the course of these two 
 years, over which we are passing thus rapidly, 
 they became more at ease with her, and even 
 prevailed upon her to allow Aline to go to the 
 Yicarage occasionally. 
 
 Of course, the Loves, Daws, and others, were 
 much scandalized at this arrangement, and Sid 
 not take any notice of Aline if they chanced to 
 meet her there. We must except Miss Harriet 
 Daw, who, removed from the influence of her 
 sisters, was as kind to Aline as she was to 
 Lachlan. 
 
 Mrs. Love once asked Aline whether her 
 father was alive or dead, and her answer to the 
 question did not improve the opinion that lady 
 had formed of her mother. 
 
 " I am not allowed to talk of my papa, ma'am ; 
 so, if you please, I would rather not be asked 
 about him," was Aline's reply. 
 
 However, from that period, the child's visits
 
 148 NOTHING VENTUKE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 to the Vicarage nearly ceased, and when she did 
 go it was only for a short call with Fluke. 
 
 Fluke and she had one eventful day during 
 these two years. They went to Jemima's wed- 
 ding. By degrees, Fluke's mistrust of the Lyons' 
 family wore off, and Aline was occasionally 
 allowed to play with the young people when they 
 came to see their grand-parents. Hence it arose 
 that Jacob and Esau, as well as all the other 
 Scriptural names of those ten children became, 
 not only household words in the parlour, but the 
 histories of their Biblical namesakes were better 
 studied by Aline than by themselves. Lachlan 
 and Kezia were her especial favourites, and they 
 warmly returned her affection. 
 
 Jemima was married to George Low before he 
 had mastered either the capital cities of Europe, 
 or the rule of three. She said she was quite con- 
 tented with him when she found that he could do 
 something that nobody else could do ; and nobody 
 else had ever been able to put down Bob Love. 
 Upon which Lachlan suggested that George had 
 conquered Love and Jemima at the same time. 
 Jemima also observed, that ''it was indeed a 
 blessing to get away from the twins, and all the 
 children and mother's worries ;" though she cried 
 a little when she kissed them all and bade them 
 good-bye. She was going to live about three
 
 lachlan's lectures. 149 
 
 miles from them, with her husband's father, who 
 was a widower, farmed his own estate, had 
 no children but George, and was called the 
 Squoire. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Lyons said that the house was quite 
 empty when Jemima and Matthew were gone ; 
 for Matthew kept to his resolution of going to 
 Australia, and left soon after Jemima's marriage. 
 Mr. Lyons, on the contrary, thought that there 
 would be a less heavy bill at the draper's, when 
 the two outfits were paid for. 
 
 If, however, the "conquest of Love" brought 
 about a marriage, it also was the cause of much 
 village gossip and dissension. The circumstances 
 of the knighting on the Downs, and the passages of 
 arms it entailed, were variously related by the 
 actors and spectators. The majority of the boys 
 declared for Low and Lachlan, because they had 
 shown the most spirit. The minority for Master 
 Love. 
 
 Mr. Eagles would not let his plan of the 
 lectures fall to the ground. He became greatly 
 interested in Lachlan, and found that he not only 
 had considerable talent, but indomitable perseve- 
 rance. He made him write down all that he 
 could remember of the scientific information he 
 had gleaned in Australia, as well as his practical 
 knowledge of the country, which was consider-
 
 150 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 able. Mr. Eagles helped him. Miss Eagles, in 
 her turn, became interested, and lent a hand and 
 a very ready pen. Kern was indefatigable ; and 
 all the Lyons' family made common cause and did 
 what they could. 
 
 The preparation for these lectures, and the 
 arrangement of the specimens, took Lachlan more 
 than a twelvemonth. 
 
 One merry Christmas had been passed at the 
 Manor Farm since he arrived there, and another 
 was approaching. Mr. Eagles was resolved that 
 the winter should not wear through without 
 bringing Lachlan a new suit of clothes, for his 
 wardrobe was very bare. The old clothes that 
 Matthew had bestowed upon him when he left 
 home, w^ere not much better than his own, and 
 did not fit him ; and he was of so proud a spirit, 
 that he refused the new coat which his aunt 
 offered him. It is true that the offer was made 
 with a great many allusions to the number and 
 requirements of her own children. 
 
 By November — the second of Lachlan 's abode 
 in England — the museum in the old loft was 
 completed and Lachlan 's Australian knowledge 
 digested, and arranged in the form of a course of 
 lectures. He had already delivered them to Mr. 
 and Miss Eagles, and Kern, with great success ; 
 and began to feel some confidence in his powers.
 
 lachlan's lectures. 151 
 
 Sixpence a head for the young men and three- 
 pence for the boys, was the modest sum asked in 
 return for his store of learning. No one was to 
 be admitted, except by tickets, procured before- 
 hand from Mr. Eagles. 
 
 The 5th of November was the evening fixed 
 upon for the first lecture^ and about thirty shil- 
 lings' worth of tickets had been sold. Lachlan's 
 spirits were high at the prospect of so large an 
 increase of income. 
 
 At seven o'clock on this eventful evening, the 
 audience reached the foot of the ladder that was 
 to lead them to so much learning ; a literal, and 
 not a figurative ladder, for there were no stairs 
 to Lachlan's loft, the rungs of a somewhat un- 
 stable ladder supplied their place. The young 
 men and boys ran up easily enough, but there 
 was a cry of astonishment and distress when the 
 great Captain Love appeared, and his gouty foot 
 essayed in vain to place itself upon the ladder. 
 To Lachlan's delight, and the Captain's annoy- 
 ance, he was obliged to return home unlectured. 
 
 The lecture-room was low ; the tallow candles 
 were dull; the table on which Lachlan stood 
 was ricketty ; the forms on which his hearers sat 
 were hard ; still everybody was pleased. 
 
 Lachlan said his say, or read what he could 
 not remember, about one portion of the physical
 
 152 NOTHINa VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 geography of Australia, in such a straightforward 
 natural manner, that he had more applause at the 
 end of his hour's lecture than many a wiser man 
 has had after a laboured discourse. 
 
 When it was over, Mr. Eagles and he acted 
 showmen to the specimens, and answered, as 
 well as they could, the various questions of the 
 audience. Mr. Eaven assisted, and Mr. Bat put 
 in a word now and then, and certain it is, that 
 everybody present received the full value of 
 their sixpences and threepences. 
 
 Lachlan was overwhelmed with compliments, 
 and began to feel himself a professor. It must 
 be acknowledged, that, despite of the general 
 modesty of merit, he was rather proud of this 
 his first essay. If Mr. Eagles pulled him down 
 from that professorial chair in which he seated him- 
 self in imagination, by pointing out some mis- 
 takes in grammar and errors in facts, Messrs. 
 Bull and Lyons soon pushed him into it again, 
 by declaring that they expected to see him Lord 
 Chancellor or Archbishop of Canterbury some 
 one of these days. 
 
 It was announced that the lectures would con- 
 tinue once a fortnight, as long as Lachlan had 
 anything to say. 
 
 During the course of the next fortnight, Lach- 
 lan was repeatedly asked to procure some larger
 
 lachlan's lectures. 153 
 
 room. Mr. Eagles offered his schoolroom ; and 
 after some consideration and much labour it was 
 arranged for the next lecture. 
 
 More than two pounds' worth of tickets went, 
 and a goodly number of men and boys filled the 
 schoolroom. Captain Love and his son, and the 
 three Mr. Bats were present. The Captain was 
 observed to be very attentive, and to take occa- 
 sional notes. He was also heard to make dis- 
 paraging remarks here and there. Lachlan did 
 not care for him, but described the rivers that he 
 had helped to explore, with his father and others, 
 so vividly, that he was well applauded, in spite 
 of Captain Love. 
 
 His fame increased, and George Low told him, 
 that he knew a great deal more of Australia 
 than he did of Europe ; and could remember the 
 Darling, Lachlan, Murray, and even that hard 
 word, the Murrimbidgee rivers, better than he 
 could the capital cities. 
 
 There was an article on Australia, the follow- 
 ing week, in the " Dorset Director," in which a 
 slight and disparaging mention was made of a 
 " beardless youth," who had been pretending to 
 lecture to the rising generation at Yeo, upon this 
 great country, and v/as, thereby, misleading 
 them. This put Lachlan on his mettle, and he 
 and Mr. and Miss Eagles revised very carefully
 
 154 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 the third lecture, which was to be on the geology 
 of the country. 
 
 More than three pounds' worth of tickets were 
 sold, though the subject did not promise to be 
 so interesting. But Lachlan was more at home 
 in it than the others, and had all his specimens 
 around him for illustration. 
 
 Mr. Raven and the Mr. Bats applauded 
 loudly. Captain Love listened attentively, and 
 after the lecture was over examined the speci- 
 mens, and disputed their genuineness. He knew 
 as much about the matter as George Low ; but 
 then nobody else knew anything about it. Lach- 
 lan got into a passion, but that did not convince 
 Captain Love. 
 
 There was another disparaging notice in the 
 " Dorset Director," but there was also on another 
 sheet a resume of the three lectures, and a few 
 words in praise of the young lecturer. 
 
 This was so well done that it was attributed to 
 Mr. Eagles, who, however, strenuously denied 
 having written it. 
 
 Lachlan's fame increased so rapidly that the 
 ladies graced his next lecture, which was on the 
 difference between Australian and Dorsetshire 
 agriculture. He was now really alarmed; for 
 he had a most chivalrous admiration of the fair 
 sex.
 
 LACHLANS LECTURES. 155 
 
 However, the " Dorset Director' proved un- 
 merciful about the farming ; and the presence of 
 a goodly number of ladies in their best bonnets 
 — and even of some few in no bonnets at all — 
 was not consolation enough to Lachlan for being 
 cut up by that keen and trenchant knife — " Our 
 Country Correspondent." He began to experi- 
 ence some of the pains and penalties of popu- 
 larity. 
 
 But a counter article appeared the next week, 
 still more keen and trenchant than that of the 
 " Country Correspondent," cutting him up more 
 cruelly than he had cut up Lachlan; literally 
 mincing, not only his matter, but his manner, 
 his orthography, etymology, syntax, and pro- 
 sody. 
 
 " Who could have written it ?" Nobody 
 could guess. Mr. Eagles denied it absolutely. 
 "Was it Mr. Eaven?" "No;" he was the last 
 man in the world to bring about a paper war. 
 " Mr. Oliver Bat ?" *' No ;" he was too lazy and 
 too great a friend of Captain Love's. 
 
 Yeo and the nobility and gentry in the neigh- 
 bourhood were much excited. Lachlan grew 
 nervous, and declared he would lecture no 
 more ; Mr. Eagles and his relations declared he 
 should. 
 
 Mr. and Miss Eagles and Lachlan sat up
 
 156 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 together half of every night for the next fort- 
 night, concocting the lecture on " Emigrants and 
 Settlers." 
 
 A strange gentleman in black arrived at the 
 " Yeo Arms " in a gig at five o'clock, and went 
 to hear what Lachlan had to say at seven. This 
 created a great sensation. After the lecture he 
 spoke to Lachlan, examined the specimens, and 
 went away. 
 
 The next number of the "Dorset Director" 
 contained a few words from a new pen, contra- 
 dicting the assertions of the "Country Corre- 
 spondent " touching the genuineness of the speci- 
 mens, and giving the young lecturer great credit 
 for his energy and talent. 
 
 The next lecture was on the native Indian. 
 Here again Lachlan was at home. He had seen 
 a great deal of the Indians, was interested in 
 them, and could describe their habits, customs, 
 religion, and manners. Moreover, he had so 
 many anecdotes of personal adventures amongst 
 them to tell, that his only difficulty was to 
 reduce his stock of knowledge into the small 
 compass of an hour's reading. 
 
 Again the strange gentleman came, and the 
 lecture was a signal success. Nevertheless, there 
 appeared the most virulent abuse of it in the 
 " Director."
 
 lachlan's lectures. 157 
 
 But Lachlan's defendant was not silent the 
 following week. Again the " Country Correspon- 
 dent " was taken to pieces, and anatomized. But 
 this was now supposed to be done by the gentle- 
 man in black.
 
 158 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 TORRENTS OF RAIN. 
 
 Those "three heads in one cap," Lachlan and 
 Mr. and Miss Eagles, decided that the sixth lec- 
 ture should be the last. They would retire from 
 the scene with honour, whilst their audience 
 were untired, and whilst they had more to tell ; 
 and would not go on until they were exhausted, 
 like many a greater lecturer and writer. 
 
 It was to be entitled " Pleasant Recollections," 
 and Lachlan was surprised to find what an 
 amount of paper the personal experience of his 
 short life covered. 
 
 The boys ornamented their schoolroom with 
 evergreens for this last attempt. The Australian 
 birds were hung up amongst them, and the tallow 
 candles were arranged with attention to the 
 ladies' dresses. The big white dog—Yeo by 
 name — sat at the top of the room, near Mr.
 
 TORRENTS OF RAIN. 159 
 
 Eagles' desk, behind which Lachlan stood, and 
 the specimens were ranged around him. 
 
 The effect was altogether imposing, and Lach- 
 lan felt shy and important. The schoolroom was 
 so full that people were scarcely conscious of the 
 presence of three or four strangers, or of Captain 
 Love's absence, who was rendered unable to 
 attend by the gout. 
 
 Our little friend Aline was there for the first 
 time. She had begged so hard to hear Lachlan 
 lecture only once, that her mamma had consented, 
 and the unwilling Fluke had consigned her to 
 the care of Miss Eagles, under promise that Mr. 
 Bull should bring her back to the farm with him. 
 Madam EambuUy had given Miss Eagles ten 
 shillings for Aline's ticket, and had begged that 
 she might not be allowed to make any new ac- 
 quaintances. 
 
 Seated between Miss Eagles and Kern, her 
 hand within that of the former, and her large 
 eyes fixed on Lachlan, Aline seemed quite happy 
 that night. 
 
 Every one was there except Captain Love; 
 even the three Miss Daws, in their large bonnets. 
 And Lachlan felt this. He was resolved that 
 the relations who disowned him should know 
 that he was not a fool ; and Daws and Loves 
 were obliged to confess this much.
 
 160 NOTHINa VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 Yery steadily, clearly, and unaffectedly, he 
 went through his work. By degrees the old 
 scenes and memories warmed him to something 
 like forgetfulness of his auditors, and he became 
 quite enthusiastic in his descriptions. 
 
 But I am not going through his lecture. Al- 
 most everybody knows by books now what he 
 knew b}^ experience then. Suffice it to say that 
 it was well received by every one present. The 
 educated portion of his hearers gave him credit 
 for a good amount of talent and observation ; 
 the less learned thought him a prodigy. No 
 wonder that Lachlan well nigh lost his head; 
 would have done so entirely had fiot Mr. Eagles 
 kept it upon his shoulders. Popularity is dan- 
 gerous, even in the small village of Yeo ; and he 
 is a lucky and sensible fellow who can so with- 
 stand it. 
 
 Towards the close of his lecture, the rain was 
 heard to fall in torrents upon the roof of the 
 schoolroom. It beat against the windows, 
 splashed upon the ground, made itself heard 
 everywhere. 
 
 When Lachlan had finished, and the applause 
 had subsided, and while the gentlemen were 
 helping off his head by praising him, shaking 
 hands with him, and making a hero of him^ the 
 ladies were wondering how they could get home.
 
 TORRENTS OF RAIN. 161 
 
 U was not rain, it was a regular waterspout. 
 Nobody could possibly put his head out of doors 
 on such a night. 
 
 Wheels were heard, and soon after Mr. Bat's 
 coachman came into the room, and told his 
 master that he had brought the carriage because 
 it was impossible for them to walk home. 
 
 " Then how can you and the horses manage, 
 eh, Tom ?" said Mr. Bat. " But never mind, we 
 must make use of you now you are here. Ladies, 
 they are at your service ; it is the old family 
 coach, and will hold a good many." 
 
 The ladies crowded round Mr. Bat. Mr. 
 Eagles appeared with all the umbrellas and thick 
 cloaks he could muster. 
 
 " Now, Mrs. Love, allow me," said Mr. Bat. 
 " Eagles, take Miss Daw. Brother, see to Miss 
 Margaret^ and Miss Harriet; I dare say the 
 young ladies will find beaux. I beg your par- 
 don, cousin Ann, I didn't mean to infer that you 
 were an old lady." 
 
 '' But you may quite venture to do so," said 
 Miss Daw, severely. 
 
 " Oliver, bring Margaret Anne," said Mr. 
 Bat. 
 
 ''We must wait till the umbrellas come back, 
 brother," said Mr. Oliver Bat, who was leaning 
 against a wall, watching the arrangements, and 
 
 VOL. T,
 
 162 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 seeming greatly interested in Miss Eagles' at- 
 tempt to make her small cloak meet over Mrs. 
 Love's portly person. 
 
 Mr. Nicholas Bat now came forward, seeing 
 that Oliver would not. 
 
 *' Here are all the clogs and pattens I can find, 
 ladies," said Farmer Bull, who had been to the 
 house in search of them, and was already dripping 
 with wet. 
 
 " Daddy, you will take cold," whispered Aline, 
 as he turned round. 
 
 " Where's Harriet?" asked Miss Daw. 
 
 Harriet was at that moment shaking hands 
 with Lachlan, after having accepted one of his 
 Australian birds, which he had offered to give 
 her. 
 
 " How can you ?" whispered her sisters. 
 
 '' Oh, sisters ! he is quite an honour to us all, 
 I am sure." 
 
 Further remonstrance was cut short, for Mrs. 
 Love, the three Miss Daws, and two ladies who 
 wxre visiting at Mrs. Love's were hurried down 
 a rivulet of gravel to the carriage in the road. 
 
 " Drive quick, and come back again, Tom," 
 said Mr. Bat. 
 
 Mr. Bat w^ent back to the schoolroom. 
 
 " Eagles, Where's your fiddle ? Let's have a 
 country dance to keep us warm," he said.
 
 TORRENTS OF RAIN. 
 
 163 
 
 " Clear off the benches, boys, and don't any of 
 you ladies go out such a night as this. I shall 
 be sorry to give my good horses, Beau and Belle, 
 a cold, but still more sorry to give you a cold." 
 
 The benches were cleared, Mr. Eagles' fiddle 
 found, and a country dance formed, in almost 
 less time than it takes to write it. 
 
 In a quarter of an hour the carriage returned, 
 and Miss Love was obliged to stop in the very 
 centre of the country dance which she was going 
 down with Mr. Perch, to be hurried off to the 
 carriage, followed by the Ravens and one or two 
 others who lived near them. 
 
 " Now, little miss, you must dance with me," 
 said Mr. Bat, taking Aline's hand, and carrying 
 her off in spite of Miss Eagles' entreaties. 
 
 "You have now no longer an excuse. Miss 
 Eagles," said Mr. Oliver, offering that lady an 
 arm, whose dark face flushed red as she took it. 
 
 Mr. Eagles fiddled, and they danced on till 
 the carriage came again. 
 
 It was now the Lyons' turn, but Kern ma- 
 noeuvred to stay behind till the carriage was 
 more than full, and went on teaching Lachlan the 
 figure. But Lachlan and many other youths 
 were absorbed in admiration of Aline's dancing, 
 who tripped it with her tall partner like a little 
 fairy. Kern gave up Lachlan in wrath, and was
 
 164 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 seized upon by Master Eobert Love, who looked 
 at her as if he thought she was the prettiest girl 
 in the world. 
 
 Once more the carriage came, and ended the 
 ball. The last detachment of ladies disappeared, 
 the young men braved the rain, and nobody was 
 left but the Bats, Lachlan, Mr. Bull, and Aline. 
 They accompanied Mr. and Miss Eagles to the 
 house. 
 
 "Where do you keep yourself, Miss Ellen?" 
 asked Mr. Oliver Bat, as they all stood drying 
 themselves by the parlour fire. 
 
 " / should rather ask that question, I think/* 
 said Miss Eagles. " I walk a daily round from 
 this house to the Downs Farm, thence to Yeo, 
 thence to this house again." 
 
 " Always at work ?" 
 
 ''Always." 
 
 " And the reading and writing ?" 
 
 "I have not much time for either. And 
 yours ?" 
 
 " I am tired to death of both, and am thinking 
 of taking up fishing or farming, like my bro- 
 thers." 
 
 " That would be a pity." 
 
 '' Why r 
 
 "Because variety is pleasant; and one, at 
 least, out of three should be a scholar "
 
 TORREXTS OF RAIN. 165 
 
 "I have had a box of foreign books down 
 lately. Shall I send you some ?'* 
 
 " Thank you. You know what a treat they 
 always are to me." 
 
 " How does the German get on ?" 
 
 "Very slowly. I have crept through the 
 grammar, stumbling at every inflection, and 
 never mastering one ; w^alked pretty briskly 
 through Schiller, and am now floundering in 
 Goethe." 
 
 " Goethe ? You read him ? A lady, and " 
 
 " A teacher. Yes ; why not ? How can the 
 grand, vain man hurt me, shut in between these 
 four silent walls ? My father does not object, 
 and no one else " 
 
 "Has any right. Well, we were always at 
 issue, and absence doesn't improve us. At an}^ 
 rate, we agree in the difficulty of the German 
 language; but if Coleridge found it quite im- 
 practicable, there is some excuse for us." 
 
 '^You are not to suppose that I like books 
 which are banned for women. I do not, and 
 never read them. But such a poet as Goethe is, 
 like Shakspeare, for every clime, age, and sex." 
 
 "Excuse me for differing with you. Shak- 
 speare's is the coarseness and stern morality of 
 a man who writes the language of his age. 
 Goethe's the metaphysical doubts of a man of
 
 166 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 uncertain morality and religion. I should be 
 sorry to see you add the German theology to 
 your other strong-minded notions." 
 
 Miss Eagles' brows met, and her eyes glanced 
 fire on Mr. Bat. That bird of night, however, 
 stood the glance with much unconcern, indeed, 
 seemed rather pleased at it. 
 
 " Thank you for giving me one of 3^our old 
 looks, Miss Ellen," was all he said, as he turned 
 round to answer some question put to him by 
 his brother. 
 
 Whilst this little conversation was going on, 
 Mr. Bat had been showing Aline all the pictures 
 that were hung round the room, and Mr. Nicholas 
 had been making further acquaintance with Lach- 
 lan by the aid of Mr. Eagles and Mr. Bull. 
 
 '* Shall we take this little lady home. Miss 
 Eagles?" asked Mr. Bat. "That is to say if 
 we can find our way across that dreadful road 
 of yours, Mr. Bull. She cannot possibly go 
 across the Downs to-night." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Bat; she must certainly 
 sleep here to-night," said Miss Eagles. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Eagles," said Aline, coming to her 
 side, *'I must go home, mamma will be so 
 frightened ; she will cry, and " 
 
 "Mr. Bull will take a note from me, and I 
 will be responsible. Aline."
 
 TORRENTS OF RAIN". 167 
 
 " Daddy will take cold ; he mustn't go out in 
 this rain. Laehlan said he would take me home. 
 Oh ! Miss Eagles, I must go." 
 
 This was said in a half-whisper, heard by Mr. 
 Oliver alone. 
 
 " Aline, you will stay here to-night," said 
 Miss Eagles decidedly, the black brows knitting. 
 
 A line's arms were round Miss Eagles, and her 
 eyes looking up appealingly, with gathering tears 
 in them. 
 
 *'If mamma cries, Miss Eagles, it will be 
 worse than the rain. Do, dear Miss Eagles !" 
 
 Miss Eagles sat down, as she thought, un- 
 observed, and as the black brows unbent, the 
 voice softened. She put her arm round Aline's 
 waist, and said gently, ''My dear child, listen to 
 the rain ! Your mamma would cry more if you 
 were to take a bad cold, or cause Mr. Bat's 
 carriage to be upset — and I will write. Will 
 you not try to be happy with me for one night ?" 
 
 "It is not that. Miss Eagles," said Aline, 
 kissing her^ "but mother." 
 
 "Trust me this once. Aline, and if I am not 
 right I will not ask you again." 
 
 Miss Eagles went to a writing-table, and wrote 
 a short note. 
 
 " Come here, Miss Aline," said Mr. Oliver, 
 taking the child's hand, and leading her to the
 
 168 NOTHINa VENTURE, NOTHING HATE. 
 
 passage ; "just look at the rain. You could not 
 go home. Now, will you tell me how and why 
 you conquered Miss Eagles ?" 
 
 " I did not, sir ; I never can. Fluke says she 
 is the only person who ever managed me." 
 
 " But she was kind and gentle with you." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! that is because I love her, and she 
 loves me." 
 
 Mr. Oliver looked into Aline's large, soft, inno- 
 cent eyes, and saw how it was. 
 
 "It is Una and the Lion — Aline and the 
 Eagle," he murmured, as he took her back to 
 the drawing-room just as Miss Eagles was giving 
 Mr. Bull the note. 
 
 The carriage wheels were heard. 
 
 " We will drop you at the top of your exe- 
 crable road. Bull," said Mr. Bat, "and you at 
 your uncle's. Master Lachlan, and then I think 
 Beau and Belle will have done their duty, and 
 deserve to go home, have a good feed of corn, 
 and go to bed." 
 
 " I am glad to see you have found your master 
 at last, Miss Ellen," said Mr. Oliver, glancing at 
 Aline. " That is the sweetest child I ever saw. 
 I wish she were a little older." 
 
 "She will grow up fast enough, we all do," 
 said Miss Eagles, the brows meeting once more. 
 
 Mr. Oliver looked at Ellen Eagles. The
 
 TORRENTS OF RAIN". 169 
 
 colour showed through her dark cheeks. He 
 had known her when she was Aline's age, and 
 he a man of five-and-twenty. 
 
 " I will send you the books, Ellen," he said, 
 shaking hands with her, and remembering those 
 days when her brother and he were friends, and 
 she the pet of both. 
 
 She turned away her head, but her cheeks 
 flushed more than ever, and her eyes brightened. 
 She saw Lachlan and Aline in deep conversation. 
 Aline was begging Lachlan to go to the Downs 
 instead of her daddy, and to let him sleep at the 
 Manor, because she was sure he would take cold. 
 
 She kissed Mr. Bull before he went away, 
 but declined bestowing the same favour on Mr. 
 Bat, looking surprised and indignant at hini for 
 asking her so to do, because, as she said after- 
 wards, she had never spoken to him before that 
 night. 
 
 Mr. Eagles was out in the rain bestowing a 
 glass of something very hot and strong on the 
 coachman. 
 
 "Go in; go in!" said Mr. Nicholas Bat. 
 " This young fellow is coming for a day's fishing 
 with me, next spring ; I think I shall teach him 
 how to bear a wetting to-night, by way of pre- 
 paration." 
 
 The rain continued to pour down as the car-
 
 170 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 riage drove off, and Mr. Eagles locked up his 
 house for the night. 
 
 Strange as it may seem, Aline had never been 
 in " the Nest," as Mr. Eagles had named his 
 cottage, before, and had never before spoken to 
 Mr. Eagles. He had often wished to know the 
 little girl of whom his daughter and Lachlan 
 were so fond, but Miss Eagles had never asked 
 her to the house, not choosing to run the chance 
 of a refusal. 
 
 She was, however, there at last, and before 
 she had finished her supper, was on very good 
 terms with Mr. Eas-les, who looked at her and 
 spoke to her, with the same interest that she 
 seemed to inspire in every one. 
 
 Miss Eagles had set to work when she first 
 began teaching her, with the resolution to tame 
 and educate a wild, spoilt child ; but even she 
 was in danger of adding her mite to the task 
 of spoiling her, and of growing lax in the 
 teaching. 
 
 "How did you like the lecture, my dear?" 
 began Mr. Eagles. 
 
 "I liked to hear Lachlan say it, sir, very 
 much indeed ; and I longed to go to Australia 
 to see the birds and the rivers ; but I think the 
 Downs and Yeo must be prettier and pleasanter." 
 
 " Why ?"
 
 TORRENTS OF RAIN. 171 
 
 " Because I hate wandering about, and like a 
 snug, quiet valley where I can do what I like, 
 and there is no one to see me. I hope I shall 
 never go away from the Downs." 
 
 " Ellen tells me you have been abroad, my 
 dear, and can talk French and Italian like a 
 little native of France or Italy; and yet you 
 do not like roving." 
 
 "Oh, no! Kern says she wishes she could go 
 abroad, but I only wish to stay at home. Miss 
 Eagles, Lachlan says he means to give me his 
 cockatoo, and a pair of little birds, if I may 
 have them. I think they will amuse mamma, 
 but I like Jack ten times as well." 
 
 " Kern will be jealous, I fear, if you have all 
 the birds." 
 
 "Then I will not have them. I can't bear 
 jealous people. I told Kern so." 
 
 " What did she say ?" 
 
 "Laughed, and wondered what I could pos- 
 sibly know about jealousy." 
 
 Miss Eagles' brows bent for the first time, and 
 she addressed her father. 
 
 "The Loves have not forgiven Lachlan. I 
 saw them trying to make mischief to-night. 
 Lachlan says he will go away if this kind of 
 animosity lasts ; and he is right. Bullying Bob 
 cannot get over the knighting."
 
 172 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 "I should be so sorry," said Aline. 
 
 " So should I," said Mr. Eagles ; " but he will 
 never do anything here." 
 
 Aline slept with Miss Eagles. When they 
 were in their bedroom, she said — 
 
 " Who painted all those beautiful pictures ? I 
 could look at them for ever." 
 
 " I will tell you. Aline, if you will not name 
 the subject before my father. They were painted 
 by my brother many years ago. He was a 
 great genius. We hoped that he would be a 
 great man, and distinguish himself, but he left 
 us many years ago, and we have never heard 
 from him since." 
 
 " How very sad ! And did he paint all those 
 pictures without being taught ?" 
 
 " No ; he studied in London, and would have 
 gone abroad, if we could have afforded it ; but 
 as it was he nearly -ruined us. Oh, Aline ! I 
 have never mentioned this subject to any human 
 being but to Mrs. Raven, who is gone ; and why 
 I do so to you, I cannot tell — a child, a pupil, a 
 stranger — unless it is that you are so much 
 dearer to me already than any one else, and 
 are the only one, except my father, who has 
 shown me any natural affection." 
 
 "Dear Miss Eagles, I will never tell any 
 one, except mamma, what you say to me ; and
 
 TORRENTS OF RAIN. 173 
 
 I never talk to her about painting because it 
 troubles her, so I had better not tell her of your 
 brother. Perhaps he does not like writing, and 
 will come back some day, as Lachlan did ; per- 
 haps he is gone to Australia." 
 
 " Perhaps ! Oh, Aline ! I loved him so 
 dearly. I worshipped him. He was more than 
 ten years older than I was. My father married 
 twice, and his mother was not mine; but we 
 were not the less brother and sister. Our whole 
 lives changed when he left us. We were cheer- 
 ful and happy until then." 
 
 *' Was he like you, Miss Eagles?" 
 
 "No; he was very handsome. His beauty 
 and his talents proved his ruin, for he was 
 courted and spoilt by every one. My poor 
 father indulged him in all his fancies, and long 
 before he came into this neighbourhood he was 
 the admiration of most people. That is why my 
 father is so afraid of Lachlan's being a genius, 
 and why I fear to spoil you." 
 
 "Lachlan is too good to be spoilt. Miss 
 Eagles; and I am not clever, you know, like 
 Kern, so I do not think I shall be spoilt either. 
 Indeed, I am determined I will not be spoilt, 
 since I see what trouble I may cause. I am 
 so very sorry for you, and for your poor 
 father."
 
 174 NOTHING VENTL^RE, NOTHIJ^a HAVE. 
 
 Tears came into Aline's eyes ; those ready 
 tears that flowed at every tale of sorrow. 
 
 Miss Eagles put her arms round her, kissed 
 her, and burst into tears also. 
 
 Miss Eagles was sitting on the bed, and Aline 
 was standing by her side. They remained silent 
 for a few minutes. At last Miss Eagles started 
 up and said^ — 
 
 " Aline, you have seen a weakness in which 
 you could not have believed had you not wit- 
 nessed it. It will, perhaps, teach you not to 
 judge from appearances, as everybody judges 
 my father and me, even our oldest friends. Try 
 to thiuk^ when I seem stern and determined with 
 you at your lessons, that I do not love you the 
 less because I strive to do my duty." 
 
 "Oh! I never, never do^ dear Miss Eagles. 
 But if you will only believe that sometimes I 
 cannot learn try as I will. AYhen I hear Jack 
 calling me, or the swallows twittering in the 
 thatch, or the sheep bleating on the downs, my 
 mind goes away to them. It is worse in the 
 summer than the winter. In summer, the scent 
 of the flowers through the window, the warm air 
 in the curtains, the clouds floating in the sky, the 
 sun shining on the hills, all seems to call me out 
 of doors, and my lessons run away from me as if 
 I bad never kuown them, and try as I will, I can-
 
 TORRENTS OF RAIX. . 175 
 
 not call tliem back. It was not so in those dull 
 French towns ; I learnt better there." 
 
 "Dear child, we will try to make excuses for 
 one another henceforth. And now you must go 
 to bed." 
 
 '' Only one question, Miss Eagles. Do you 
 think this great rain will swell the brook, and 
 so the house will be flooded, and I shall not be 
 able to get back to mamma to-morrow ?" 
 
 " I certainly do not. Aline." 
 
 Miss Eagles undressed her tenderly, and sat 
 by her till she went to sleep : then she sat watch- 
 ing her, and thinking half aloud, some such words 
 as these : " Am I a wild animal that I could 
 so often make that innocent lamb weep, as I 
 have done in the last twelvemonth ? No : she 
 cannot learn under those influences. I ought to 
 have known it : I who find it so hard to teach 
 when all the poetry of nature is calling me 
 abroad. Duty ! one's daily bread ! What hard, 
 unfeeling words they are. If it were not for my 
 father, I could not bear them. But I have been 
 a weak fool to give way before Aline. It was 
 that one kind w^ord — that ^ Ellen ' did it all. 
 After so much careless neglect, to be con- 
 quered by a word — and I thinking mj'self so 
 strong ! But it shall be only for a moment and 
 then "
 
 176 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 She buried her face in the pillow close to 
 Aline for a few seconds, then rose, and putting 
 on a warm cloak sat down to an open desk, that 
 was on a table at the foot of the bed. She took 
 out some papers, and arranged them methodically 
 before her ; then she put her elbow on the desk 
 and her cheek on her hand, and thought — thought 
 perhaps for a quarter of an hour. Hers was not 
 an eye " in a fme frenzy rolling," but one, earnest, 
 bright, steadfast ; fixed — like the eagle's on the 
 sun — on some imaginary object in the great 
 spirit-peopled world around her. Any one who 
 had seen her at that moment, would scarcely have 
 known her as the prompt, short-spoken, excitable 
 Ellen Eagle& of the day. Night had calmed her, 
 and could scarcely have quieted a more fitting 
 embodiment of herself. The heavy black-braided 
 hair and thick black brow ; the deep, far-search- 
 ing black eyes ; the pale, dark face ; the white 
 hand and arm, and the large black cloak ; she 
 might have sat for a picture of Nox herself; 
 whilst near her slumbered the young morning 
 twilight, with the arm on the white coverlet, as if 
 making the first stroke for daylight, and the rosy 
 lips parted, as touched by the first rays of the 
 sun. 
 
 Suddenly Ellen's eyelids fell, and the dreamy 
 look was gone. Brisk and animated again she
 
 TORRENTS OF RAIN. 177 
 
 took her pen and wrote — wrote on till midnight 
 was long past, when, cold and weary, she crept 
 to the side of the sleeping child whom she was 
 learning to love. 
 
 TOL. I.
 
 178 NOTHING YENTUEE, NOTHINa HATE. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIIi; 
 
 A RAID ON THE ROOKS. 
 
 Various were the results of Lachlan's lectures. 
 Again the " Dorset Director" cut him up in one 
 column, and praised him in another ; and again 
 these antagonists cut one another up the week 
 after. This led to various papers on Australia, 
 and emigration generally ; to some clever and 
 cutting verses from Lachlan's supporter ; and to a 
 prolongation of the gossip and surmises at Yeo. 
 
 A letter reached Lachlan from a gentleman in 
 the neighbouring county town requesting him to 
 come and deliver a course of lectures there. He 
 and his adviser Mr. Eagles, resolved to decline 
 the honour ; his relations wished him to accept 
 it : so disputes arose on this head, which resulted 
 in a quarrel between his uncle and aunt, the 
 latter of whom gave him very strong hints about 
 maintaining himself, which he was really more 
 than doing by his farm w^ork. His uncle was 
 anxious for his further reputation ; his aunt was 
 jealous of w^hat he had already gained ; and did
 
 A RAID OX THE ROOKS. 179 
 
 not see ^'why a foreign nephew should come 
 home and set the country afire, when her own 
 children were quiet and peaceable, and never did 
 any mischief. It made her quite sick to hear 
 such a talk over the place ; and all about nothing. 
 If it hadn't been for him, Matthew would never 
 have gone away ; and there wouldn't have been 
 all this stir and bother. She wasn't used to be 
 talked about and written about, nor any one be- 
 longing to her, and she didn't choose to be now. 
 It would be the death of her." 
 
 George Low invited Lachlan to go and stay 
 with him and Mima, but Lachlan said he must 
 earn his own living, and was not afraid that 
 something would offer for him. He told George 
 that he was an orphan, and that his Heavenly 
 Father was sure to put the right thing in his 
 mind at the right time. 
 
 "Where did 'ee learn that, Lachlan ?" asked 
 George. 
 
 *' The Bible tells me so. And I have proved 
 it, and shall prove it again. I'm off to seek my 
 fortune, like Whittington." 
 
 *' Don't 'ee go away, Lachlan ; Mima hopes 
 you'll come and live with us." 
 
 " No, thank you, George. When you see me 
 next I shall be on the road to fortune. I am not 
 going to stay anywhere to be quarrelled about ;
 
 180 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 and I know very well what aunt says and 
 thinks." 
 
 "More shame for her. I'll tell her zo, be 
 hanged if I don't. I never saw such a complain- 
 ing woman in all my life. I wonder father-in- 
 law's soul isn't worritted out of un. Mima isn't 
 like her, that's one comfort. Here she is. I'm 
 zure I can't hold in, no how." 
 
 " Then do go home, George." 
 
 " No, that I won't. 'Twas you got me Mima, 
 and I'll stand up for 'ee as long as I live." 
 
 This conversation took place in the hall at the 
 Manor, and was interrupted by the entrance of 
 Mrs. Lyons, who had Jacob in her arms and Esau 
 tugging at her gown. The twins were now 
 " strong on their feet, and in their lungs," as 
 Mr. Bull said. 
 
 One after another the other members of the 
 family dropped in to dinner, and joined in the 
 debate that ensued. 
 
 " Now, mother-law," began George. " I want 
 to know what you've got agen Lachlan. He 
 does more work than any boy on the varm ; 
 nurses those plagues of twins a sight more than I 
 could, and hasn't got a coat to his back worth 
 my old shoe." 
 
 " I'm sure I haven't got anything against him, 
 and it is very unkind and ungrateful of him if he
 
 A RAID ON THE ROOKS. 181 
 
 says that I have. IVe worry enough with my 
 own children, without having him to think about 
 and complain of me ; and now you, George, to 
 be beginning too !" 
 
 "Now, mother-law, 'tis no good to be whining 
 like a sucking-pig. Mima al'as said, once put 
 your pipe out, and one med as well be in a pound 
 with a stray lamb ; and now your pipe's never in." 
 
 " George, you're very rude and unfeeling, and 
 Mima ought to be ashamed of herself for saying 
 such things of her poor mother, who's always 
 ailing." 
 
 Mrs. Lyons began to cry, and Jacob and Esau 
 made an ad libitum accompaniment. 
 
 " Those twins are like our young calves bellow- 
 ing after the cows, only they don't blare so when 
 their mother's near. I should like to " 
 
 " What will you say next, George ? My little 
 angels ! Do you hear your own brother-in-law 
 insulting you and me, and all because cousin 
 Lachlan came here ?" 
 
 "Tousin dood — do to tousin," screamed the 
 twins, the one running to Lachlan, the other 
 strueQiling; in his mother's arms. 
 
 "Children and all alike," said Mr. Lyons, 
 who had come in unnoticed ; " but we needn't 
 grudge the poor boy his bit of praise, Rhoda, I 
 think, even if we grudge him his victuals."
 
 182 NOTHma venture, nothing have. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't grudge him his victuals, and 
 it's very unfeeling of you to say so ; but you're 
 always conspiring against me ; even George, who 
 has no right to meddle and make, that I see, must 
 needs put in his word." 
 
 ''My fardith's as good as another's, mother- 
 law ; but I mean to say that I'll fight anybody 
 who insults Lachlan, and if you don't like to keep 
 un, I will.'* 
 
 " Bravo, George !" said Mr. Lyons. 
 
 There was a momentary pause, so Lachlan 
 " up and spake." 
 
 " Uncle and aunt, I am very sorry I ever came 
 here to make all this mischief : I assure you I 
 didn't mean or wish to do it. I am very much 
 obliged to you and my cousins, and George, for 
 all your kindness to me, and if the day should 
 come when I can repay it, I will. But I don't 
 want to stay anywhere to be quarrelled about. 
 If you will give my curiosities house-room for a 
 time, I shall go and seek my fortune elsewhere, 
 and come back again some day when the people 
 here have forgotten me, the baronetcy, and the 
 lectures." 
 
 "Indeed you are not going away, cousin," 
 
 interrupted Kern. " And you needn't leave us 
 
 on account of the lectures, for Miss Eagles has 
 
 just told me that there is nothing about them in
 
 A RAID O:^ THE ROOKS. 183 
 
 this week's ' Director/ though she thought there 
 would be. She said the new raih'oad had quite 
 cut through all the other news, and you with 
 it." 
 
 Lachlan looked disappointed. It must be con- 
 fessed that he liked his popularity, and felt sud- 
 denly cast down from a height when he heard 
 that he was no longer one of the themes for the 
 " Director's " pen. 
 
 "I will get work on the railroad then," he 
 said, after a pause. 
 
 " How ? — in what way ? What do you know 
 about it ?" asked the family, simultaneously. 
 
 ^' As a navvy, to be sure." 
 
 '* A navvy — what's a navvy ?" said Mrs. Lyons. 
 " I'm sure I don't want you to go to sea again. 
 Don't say that I sent you away : I should never 
 forgive myself if anything were to happen to 
 you." 
 
 " Thank you, aunt ; but you needn't be afraid. 
 It is only another sort of farming." 
 
 ''Don't be so absurd, Lachlan," said Kern. 
 " A navvy, indeed ! why, they are the roughest, 
 rudest people in England." 
 
 " That will just suit me. I shall go about and 
 see the country, and learn engineering ; I shall 
 pick up geological specimens ; and I shan't want 
 that new coat I was just going to have made —
 
 184 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 only a navvy's dress, and a smock-frock. Now, 
 aunt, may I extend my visit one week more ?" 
 
 " I'm sure you may stay here as long as you 
 like, Lachlan, so you needn't throw all the 
 blame upon me ; and if you do go and become 
 a navvy, we shall always be glad to see you, 
 and — " 
 
 *' I do wish you would all come to dinner," 
 said Mark. " I'm famished. 'Tis no good wait- 
 ing for Luke, he's kept in." 
 
 " No, here I am !" cried that worthy, bursting 
 into the room. " And do you know somebody 
 has shot one of the Miss Daws' sacred rooks. His 
 corpus was found dead. There has been an in- 
 quest of women, and Mr. Eaven was crowner; 
 and the witnesses declared that Lachlan Lyons 
 shot it." 
 
 " What a lie !" said Lachlan. 
 
 " But everybody believes it. You had father's 
 gun yesterday, and yesterday the murder was 
 committed. The Daws are flying about every- 
 where, and the whole village is in a fuss. The 
 rookery has been disturbed, and the five other 
 rooks are going to put on crape. Let's have din- 
 ner : I want to go back and hear the end. 'Tis 
 such famous fun. The rook is to be buried in 
 state, and I shouldn't wonder if another was to 
 die, to be its companion. Mrs. Daw heard a gun
 
 A RAID ON THE ROOKS. 185 
 
 last evening, but little thought who was mur- 
 dered." 
 
 ** I know who did it," said Lachlan. *' It was 
 Bob Love : I saw him with a gun last night, when 
 I was coming home from the Nest, but he didn't 
 see me." 
 
 "Another feather in your cap, Lachlan," said 
 Mr. Lyons. 
 
 "I'll put it into that bully's before I go 
 away," said Lachlan. '^ George, will vou help 
 me?" 
 
 " To be sure I will," said George. 
 
 Lachlan was universally believed to be the 
 culprit. George Low was heard to say that he 
 hoped he had done it, and would do the same 
 again, killing two the next time. This speech 
 was reported, with additions, by Eobert Love to 
 the Miss Daws, and, as coming from a relation, 
 supposed to confirm their suspicions. Even the 
 gentle Miss Harriet began to feel sorry that she 
 had accepted the Australian birds. 
 
 A man was set to watch the clump of fir trees 
 three successive nights, after which even the Miss 
 Daws allowed the murdered rook to be a dead 
 letter, and let his remains rest in peace beneath 
 the haunts of his own and his ancestors' bodies in 
 life. 
 
 The fourth night Lachlan and George Low
 
 186 NOTHINa VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 watched the fir trees from behind a hedge which 
 divided one of Mr. Lyons's fields from the Miss 
 Daws' garden. All that they saw worthy of note 
 were the sliadows of mysterious female figures 
 across the window-blinds, and heads occasionally 
 peeping out from between them and the windows. 
 
 The fifth night they watched again ; still no- 
 thing disturbed the union of those aristocratic 
 crests. The heads appeared more seldom at the 
 bedroom windows, and the fears of the trembling 
 Daws appeared to be subsiding. 
 
 But Lachlan and Low watched on. The sixth 
 night their perseverance and resolution were duly 
 rewarded. At about eleven o'clock they saw, 
 beneath the uncertain light of a somewhat clouded 
 February moon, a figure creep through the gar- 
 den and ascend the mount on which the fir trees 
 were planted. Had they been watching a ge- 
 nuine murderer their hearts could not have beat 
 faster. 
 
 " Now," said George, in a whisper. 
 
 Lachlan crept along under the hedge, scrambled 
 through it, and, taking the opposite side of the 
 garden and house to that on which the trees were, 
 was soon at the front door, and with his hands on 
 the knocker and bell. 
 
 He had not been there many moments when 
 bang ! bang ! went a gun. Simultaneously bell
 
 A RAID ON THE ROOKS. 187 
 
 and knocker began to work, and there was a cry 
 and a scuffle behind the house. 
 
 A head was popped out of a window in front. 
 
 " Who is there ? What's the matter ?" 
 sounded from the sharp voice of Miss Margaret 
 Daw. 
 
 " Come dowUj ma'am. We have caught the 
 fellow," cried Lachlan, much excited. 
 
 " Don't, sister ! don't, ma'am ! Come in, missus, 
 they may be thieves and murderers. Don't ven- 
 ture down, sister," sounded through the open 
 window. 
 
 "I certainly shall: I heard the guns," said 
 Miss Daw. " Coming directly !" and the window 
 closed again. 
 
 There was now a scuffle on the gravel walk, 
 and Lachlan heard George's gruff voice saying, 
 " Come along — gun and all ! 'Tis no good to 
 struggle. I know'ee well enough, and you know 
 me." 
 
 ** Let me go this once. I'll give you twenty 
 pounds to let me go. I'll make friends with him : 
 I'll tell aunts 'twasn't he — anything. Let me go," 
 said another voice. 
 
 "Dang me, if I do, Master Bob. Murder will 
 out, you see," and George Low laughed with all 
 his heart, as he pulled the struggling EobertLove 
 up to his aunts' door with one hand, and carried
 
 188 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 the gun with the other. Just as they reached 
 the porch in which Lachlan was standing, the door 
 slowly opened, and a candle and head were poked 
 out. 
 
 " Who is there ?" said Miss Margaret^ in a deep 
 masculine voice. 
 
 " Don't be afraid, ma'am," said Lachlan, " it is 
 only your nephew, Mr. Robert Love, Mr. George 
 Low, and I, Lachlan Lyons." 
 
 Lachlan had determined that this, his second 
 visit to his maternal relatives, should in no wise 
 derogate from the first. 
 
 The door was opened wide, and a remarkable 
 group was presented to the face of the moon, who 
 was looking in upon it. 
 
 Miss Margaret stood foremost, with a pistol in 
 her hand. She was attired in a flannel dressing- 
 gown of ancient make, and yellow colour. It 
 seemed to fit her perfectly from neck to ankle. 
 Her stockingless feet were lost in a pair of large 
 red slippers, and her night-capped and frontless 
 head was crowned with a large bonnet. 
 
 Close behind, and looking over her shoulders, 
 appeared Miss Ann, enveloped in a very large 
 brown cloak, the night-cap not surmounted by a 
 bonnet, and a poker in her hand. At a little dis- 
 tance, trembling very much, and hand in hand, 
 were Miss Harriet and the cook, encouraging one
 
 A RAID ON THE ROOKS. 189 
 
 another to proceed, and behind them was the 
 housemaid. The man-servant did not sleep in 
 the house. 
 
 Miss Harriet had put on her gown and day-cap, 
 the latter very much awry; and the cook had 
 been particular in the matter of stockings, which 
 were black, whilst the remaining part of her attire 
 was miscellaneous in the extreme. 
 
 The horror of their faces may be imagined 
 when the light of the candle fell upon the angry 
 countenance of their grand-nephew Kobert, 
 triumphantly dragged into the hall by George 
 Low, and attended by their other grand-nephew, 
 Lachlan. 
 
 " There, that'll do," said Robert Love, shaking 
 himself loose from George's grip, who was stand- 
 ing with his back against the door, which he had 
 taken care to close. 
 
 " I caught him in the act, ladies," said George. 
 " I've just brought 'un in to show 'un to ee, and 
 the gun along with 'un. Lachlan's too brave a 
 fellow to frighten women, and kill harmless rooks 
 for sport ; and I don't choose 'un to be lied about, 
 so we watched. I should like the Cap 'en to see 
 the gun, so should be obliged if you'd keep 'un 
 till to-morrow. He's a precious brave chap, that 
 grand-nephew of yours, ma'am ; but the other 
 grand-nephew is the bravest, our Lachlan."
 
 190 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 Miss Daw looked at Eobert Love with stern 
 contempt. Eobert returned the gaze doggedly, 
 and then burst out laughing. 
 
 " Well, aunts," he said, " I should like you 
 to look at yourselves in the glass. 'Twas worth 
 while shooting a couple of old rooks to see you 
 all." ' 
 
 " Would you oblige me by going to Captain 
 Love's, and knocking him up, and begging him or 
 Mrs. Love to come here ?" said Miss Daw, looking 
 at Lachlan and George. 
 
 "I would rather not do that," said Lachlan. 
 " All we wanted was to convince you that I had 
 not shot your rook, and to assure you that I would 
 scorn to do it." 
 
 " Better let 'un go now, ladies : there'll be time 
 enough to tell his father to-morrow. The old 
 gentleman will laugh and storm together, I'll be 
 bound ; and the old lady '11 kiss and scold." 
 
 Miss Harriet and the maids had disappeared 
 into one of the sitting-rooms, and were listening 
 through the open door, leaving Miss Daw and 
 Miss Ann to confront their guests. 
 
 " Scarcely an old lady yet, Mr. Low," said 
 Miss Ann. 
 
 " I fear you are right," said Miss Margaret. 
 " Spoilt children never turn out well. Robert, 
 you may go."
 
 A RAID ON THE ROOKS. 191 
 
 "No hurry, aunt," said the unabashed Robert 
 " Never saw you look so handsome." 
 
 " Begone, sir ! Open the door, Mr. Low, and 
 put him out." 
 
 "Yery inhospitable," said Robert, as George 
 opened the door. 
 
 Robert Love was rather a handsome youth, 
 with a bold, bad expression of countenance — if, 
 indeed, the well-shaped but heavy features could 
 be said to have any expression at all. He was 
 said to be clever at nothing but mischief and 
 bullying. 
 
 *' Good night, aunts," he said, as he saw 
 George's muscular arm raised. " Don't believe 
 those low fellows. Sorry to have disturbed you 
 so early : hope you won't take cold," then to 
 George and Lachlan, aside, " Til have my revenge 
 one of these days." 
 
 " Ready to fight you to-morrow," said George ; 
 " but you'd better be off to-night," and therewith 
 pointed to the door. 
 
 Robert went out, grinning fiercely, and the 
 others prepared to follow. 
 
 *'Will you take anything, young men?" said 
 Miss Daw ; " you must be cold." 
 
 " Nothing, thank you," said Lachlan. " I 
 hope you believe that I have not shot your 
 birds ?"
 
 192 IS^OTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 ^* Certainly," said Miss Daw. 
 
 " Certainly," said Miss Ann. 
 
 '*Then, ladies, I wish jou good-bye. I am 
 going away the day after to-morrow, and may 
 never see you again ; so I would thank you, in 
 my father and mother's names, as well as my 
 own, for your great hospitality to me since I 
 have been at Yeo." 
 
 So saying, Lachlan put on a magnificent air, 
 which, despite his shabby clothes, he was well 
 able to do, and walked out of the house. 
 
 " Good-night, Miss Daw ; good-night, Miss 
 Ann," said downright George, insisting on shak- 
 ing hands with the ladies. "' I'll call again, and 
 try your tap. Let me advise 'ee, as one as 
 wishes 'ee both well, to turn Lachlan over in 
 your minds when you make your will. He'd do 
 a sight more good with your money, and take 
 more care o' the rooks, than them proud, con- 
 ceited Loves. Not one of 'em worth a penny 
 but Mrs. Love, and she's a lady, though she do 
 talk like a water-mill. Sorry to have disturbed 
 'ee. Take care o' the gun ; needn't be afraid ; 
 'tisn't loaded. I'll stop all night if you like " 
 
 "Oh, I wish you would !" said a weak voice 
 from the parlour. " Do 'ee, Measter George, do 
 'ee," said another. 
 
 " Harriet, don't be so silly."
 
 A RAID ON THE ROOKS. 193 
 
 " Betty, hold your tougue," said the ladies. 
 
 "Thank you; we shall do very well. Much 
 obliged. We will have an examination of the 
 gun and the poor dead rooks to-morrow — oh, 
 dear ! — when, perhaps, your presence may be 
 required " 
 
 "Can't come, nohow. Don't want to have 
 any more to do with it. Good-night, ma'am : 
 good-night, miss;" and so saying, George went 
 away. " What will Mima say ? She'll wish the 
 rooks anywhere. So do 1, for that much ; but 1 
 baint going to let 'em put all the blame upon 
 Lachlan, and I'll fight for 'un as long as I've a 
 drop o' blood left." 
 
 " Thank 'ee, cousin George," said Lachlan ; 
 " and I'll do the same for you." 
 
 With this laudable resolve they hurried oiF 
 homewards. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 CHAPTER Xiy. 
 
 lachlan's adieux. 
 
 Lachlan had made up his mind, and no per- 
 suasions would alter it. He would get work on 
 the railroad, somewhere or other, which would 
 be for him, he felt sure, a railroad to fame and 
 fortune. 
 
 The following morning he set forth alone to 
 make his adieux. 
 
 His first visit was to Mr. Raven, who had 
 been very kind to him, and had done what he 
 could to give him good advice. 
 
 After a few natural explanations, Mr. Raven 
 said : " You will not leave Yeo without forgiving 
 your -enemies, if you have any?" 
 
 " I have no ill-feeling towards any one in Yeo, 
 sir; so I have nothing to forgive." 
 
 "Would you shake hands with young Love? 
 He is here now, reading with me." 
 
 " I would rather not ; and I am sure he
 
 lachlan's adieux. 195 
 
 wouldn't shake hands with me. I hate touching 
 the hand that has done a mean, dirty trick." 
 
 " I have been talking very seriously to him 
 about last night, and he seems penitent. It 
 might be good for him, if not for you, to feel that 
 you part friends." 
 
 *' But we couldn't part friends, sir. I could 
 never be a friend to a man I could not respect, 
 although I would never do him an injury. I 
 bear Mr. Robert Love no ill-will, but I despise 
 him with all my heart, and wish we were not 
 cousins, which we are, and neither he nor I can 
 help that." 
 
 Mr. Eaven looked perplexed. He was always 
 trying to reconcile the adverse spirits of his 
 parish, but constantly without success. He 
 quoted, however, many portions of the New 
 Testament to Lachlan concerning the necessity 
 of " loving his enemies, forgiveness of injuries," 
 and the like, to which Lachlan listened atten- 
 tively. 
 
 "If you wish it, sir," he said, "I am quite 
 willing to shake hands with Robert Love, if he 
 is willing to do the same ; but not if he is forced 
 to it, as my cousin, George Low, forced him to 
 beg my pardon. As to loving him, 1 can't do 
 that; as to forgiving him, why, having had the 
 best of it, I have nothing to forgive; and I
 
 196 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 would rather hear no more of him or his rela- 
 tions, for they have treated me as if I was a 
 savage." 
 
 " Yery difiQcult ; very difficult/' muttered Mr. 
 Raven, rising. ''Excuse me for a few minutes," 
 he added, and left the room. 
 
 He was so long absent that Lachlan was im- 
 patient to go. 
 
 He returned, however, at last, looking greatly 
 annoyed, with some books in his hand. 
 
 "You are right, my boy," he said. "Robert 
 Love is less of a Christian than you." 
 
 "He won't shake hands with me? I knew 
 that, sir, and I am very glad." 
 
 " It seems that there has been a great fuss 
 between the Miss Daws and the Loves about 
 these hapless rooks, and Robert has had a severe 
 reprimand from his father, and is likely to lose 
 the favour of his aunts. They were terribly 
 frightened last night." 
 
 Lachlan began to laugh. He could not help 
 it as he remembered the old ladies. Mr. Raven 
 laughed too. 
 
 " One thing, sir, I should be glad if you would 
 do for me when I am gone : tell the Miss Daws 
 that I am sorry to have knocked them up as I 
 did. I don't think that was quite right, though 
 thev deserved it from me ; but there was no
 
 LACHLAX'S ADIEUX. 197 
 
 other way of making them believe that I didn't 
 shoot that ridiculous old rook." 
 
 " Will you accept these books, and read them, 
 for my sake ?" 
 
 " Thank you, sir ; I will." 
 
 The books which Mr. Eaven gave Lachlan 
 were a Bible, Prayer-book, and Bishop Wilson's 
 " Meditations." 
 
 " I wish I had done more for you, Lachlan," 
 Mr. Raven said; "but I was in such trouble 
 when you came here, and have been in such a 
 sad dream ever since, that I fear I have neg- 
 lected my duty. But if ever you want a friend, 
 come to me. Now, you must say good-bye to 
 my sister and children." 
 
 Mr. Eaven led Lachlan into a small dining- 
 room, where were Miss Eaven and three little 
 girls, one of whom was receiving a music-lesson 
 from Miss Eagles. 
 
 They all shook hands with him, and wished 
 him well. Miss Eagles put on her bonnet, and 
 said she would walk with him. 
 
 Lachlan could not help remarking that Miss 
 Eagles' manner to Mr. Eaven was constrained, 
 and he guessed why. The good people of Yeo, 
 for want of better food for their minds, had been 
 already sustaining them with a little gossip about 
 their widowed vicar and Miss Eagles, suggesting
 
 198 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HATE. 
 
 that there were good reasons for the lady's kind 
 attentions to that gentleman's children. 
 
 Miss Eagles and Lachlan walked together 
 across the fields to " The Nest." 
 
 " Lachlan, " began Miss Eagles, abruptly, "I 
 think I can trust you, and I am sure that I can 
 ask a favour of you." 
 
 "Anything that I can do to serve you or 
 Mr. Eagles I will do," said Lachlan. 
 
 " You are going to do what I have been long- 
 ing to do for years. You are going to emanci- 
 pate yourself from this place. I am glad of it 
 for your sake, though we shall lose a friend. 
 You will probably be knocked about the world, 
 and in the course of your wanderings may reach 
 London. At all events you will keep your eyes 
 and ears open wherever you are. Will you try 
 to find me my brother ? I can give you no clue 
 to him beyond the fact that he is a dark, hand- 
 some man, something like my father, only with 
 less piercing eyes. Wherever he is — if, indeed, 
 he be still alive —he is a painter. His art was 
 his and our curse — his art and a violent temper. 
 He was engaged to be married to Mary Bull, 
 and I think some new attachment must have 
 supervened, and so he never wrote to any one. 
 Mary was lovely, like Kern Lyons, only she had 
 a sweeter expression.
 
 lachlan's adieux. 199 
 
 " It is absurd to say, as people do, that she died 
 of a broken heart. People's hearts don't take 
 twelve years to break ; but she died — about six 
 months before you came here. I tell you these 
 circumstances that you may know what to say 
 and do if you discover my brother. All these 
 years I have been weekly to the post-office at 
 Yeominster — five miles' walk, as you know — in 
 the hope of letters, because I told him that if he 
 was ever in a strait that it would distress my 
 father to know of, he was to write to me, and 
 direct * to be left at the office.' Fancy ! thirteen 
 years of this toil ! and my excuse is that I go to 
 market ! — to bring home a quarter of a pound of 
 tea, perhaps. If I cannot go myself, I send our 
 little maid ; but that makes me so nervous and 
 anxious that it is worse than my own fatigue. 
 And these walks have been set down, I know^ to 
 a clandestine engagement by the goodies at Yeo. 
 I was determined that they should not quite 
 reckon without their host, so I have had a few 
 private letters, mostly literary, to gratif}' them. 
 It is quite a relief to have a confidant. I have 
 never spoken of my own affairs to any one 
 before. These weekly visits to Yeominster sug- 
 gested my sending a few of my attempts at com- 
 position to a magazine that we took regularly. 
 I suppose they were neither inserted nor read, as
 
 200 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 I saw nothing of them. I tried again with equal 
 success. I then tried ' The Metropolitan,' which 
 we did not see. . One day Mr. Oliver Bat lent 
 my father a number of it, and to my astonish- 
 ment I saw myself therein under my nom de 
 plume, or lettre de plume — a Greek E. 
 
 " My father read my poem, and praised it, little 
 knowing who had written it. This was enough 
 for me. 
 
 " I managed to get the preceding numbers of 
 'The Metropolitan,' and saw myself again. I 
 had not known previously that Mr. Bat took the 
 magazine, or I should have discovered earlier 
 that I was in print. 
 
 '* As I had not given any address to the Editor, 
 of course he could not, if he would, acknowledge 
 my efforts. 
 
 " Finding that they were not considered worth- 
 less, I took courage and wrote to the Editor, 
 under cover of my Greek initials, and said I 
 would contribute again if he thought I deserved 
 a trifling remuneration. I requested the answer 
 to be directed to me, at the post office at Yeo- 
 minster, giving still only the E. as my address. 
 
 '* The Editor replied that he should be happy to 
 receive my contributions, and would pay me the 
 usual price for such as he inserted. 
 
 " During the past twelve months I have been
 
 LACHLAX'S ADIEUX. 20] 
 
 writing occasionally, as opportunity offered, both 
 in poetry and prose, and all that I have forwarded 
 has appeared, and I have been duly paid. The 
 joy I felt at the receipt of the first guinea sur- 
 passed any joy I ever felt before or since. I at 
 once bought my father that copy of Wordsworth 
 that he prizes so much and was so anxious to 
 have. 
 
 " You know that he has not much notion of 
 how the mone}^ comes or goes, so I can devote 
 my literary gains to him without his suspecting 
 their source ; and they have been wholly dedi- 
 cated to his tastes in the purchase of books. 
 
 "This has been a great pleasure to me, but 
 even this innocent gratification must have its 
 ingredients of gall and wormwood ; all my 
 meagre enjoyments always have had — except 
 indeed Aline — she has brought no bitter as yet." 
 
 "She never will," interrupted Lachlan, speak- 
 ing for the first time. 
 
 " My lettre de plume has; I suppose, become 
 known beyond the post ofiice. Whether the secret 
 was too heavy for the conscience of the officials, 
 or whether somebody else saw the address, and 
 watched the letter as it was given to me, I cannot 
 tell; but that inveterate gossip, Mrs. Love, got 
 hold of my secret correspondence with some one 
 — a gentleman it was supposed, from the writing
 
 202 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 — and communicated the fact to Mrs. Raven. 
 She, dear angel, told me of it at once. I declined 
 confiding my secret, even to her, simply assuring 
 her that it was an innocent one. She believed 
 me, but, if I can judge from the general manner 
 of my employers towards me, as well as of my 
 acquaintances, I am considered a very dangerous 
 person. 
 
 ''However, they cannot do without me, having 
 no one else at hand who can teach their children, 
 so I have lost nothing by their spite but my good 
 name ; and I quite agree with Shakspeare in 
 what he says about that. 
 
 "However, I have a remedy whenever I choose 
 to use it ; but I do not mean to take advantage 
 of it, until I have written and published a whole 
 book. Don't look so astonished. I mean to 
 make you my medium with the publishers some 
 day, if you will help me." 
 
 " I will do anything in the world for you, 
 Miss Eagles, but how a poor fellow like me can 
 manage such a matter, I do not see." 
 
 " It will not be yet, and I have arranged it all 
 in my own mind. You are trustworthy and true. 
 I do not intend to make any confidant but you, 
 so keep my secret as if it were your own ; more 
 strictly, indeed, for your own secrets you have a 
 right to tell ; mine you have no right to tell.
 
 LA CH LAN's ADIEUX. 203 
 
 *' Of course my father knows nothing of the 
 gossip about my clandestine correspondent ; if he 
 were annoyed by it, I should tell him the truth 
 at once ; but people know liim too well to venture 
 a word to him against me. It will be the most 
 glorious moment of my life when I give them to 
 understand that I, Ellen Eagles, have been cor- 
 responding with a live Editor, and not with that 
 imaginary hero who has been already named after 
 every man that has ever appeared at Yeo since I 
 was sixteen. 
 
 " Two glorious moments I have had already : 
 the first I mentioned, the second was when I once 
 heard Mr. Oliver Bat tell Mr. Raven that there was 
 a capital essay on ' Gossip ' in ' The Metropolitan' 
 that would just suit the good people of Yeo. It was 
 I who wrote it. I was helping dear Mrs. Eaven to 
 cut out patchwork at the time, and they little 
 thought the patchwork for the quilt and the patch- 
 work of the Essay was cut out by the same fingers. 
 
 *' You, Lachlan, will write to us regularly, and 
 tell us all that happens to you. If there should 
 be anything to say concerning my brother, or 
 any private intelligence whatever, direct it to E. 
 at the post office. My brother was more than 
 ten years older than I, and yet I was his con- 
 fidante : I am nearly ten years older than you, 
 and you are mine."
 
 204 NOTHINa VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 **Then it was you, Miss Eagles, who wrote all 
 those articles in the ' Dorset Director !' " 
 
 '' I shall not confide in you in that matter. 
 That is my particular secret." 
 
 " And if you really did write them, do you 
 believe that I am capable of doing what you fore- 
 told I should do, in them ?" 
 
 "I believe you are capable of anything, and 
 that you will overcome all difficulties, just as I 
 mean to do and am doing ; quietly, but surely." 
 
 ''Thank you; you shall not be disappointed. 
 It shall not be my fault if you do not discover 
 your brother, publish your book and make a 
 fortune by it, and be as happy and celebrated 
 as you deserve. And it shall not be my fault, 
 if I do not tread in your steps. I, too, mean 
 to show the people of Yeo that I am not to be 
 trampled upon." 
 
 ''I am sorry you should begin to follow me in 
 the worst part of my ambition, the low desire of 
 shining amongst inferior minds. But I suppose 
 it is natural to wish to be well with those we 
 live amongst. The prophet would like to be 
 honoured in his own country, though he never is. 
 But we must both try to forget Yeo, and our 
 petty mortifications, if we wish to win and deserve 
 the highest meed of praise." 
 
 Miss Eagles and Lachlan now reached '' The
 
 lachlan's adieux. 205 
 
 Nest," and when the latter had taken leave of his 
 friends there, he went to the Downs. He asked 
 to wish Mrs. Rambally good-bye, and was ad- 
 mitted to the parlour. 
 
 " I wish you well," said that lady, '^but think 
 you are losing your position by labouring for 
 your bread, as you propose." 
 
 "You will come back again soon, Lachlan," 
 said Aline, with tears in her large eyes. " Mamma, 
 may I give him this purse that I have been 
 making for you ? I will net you another." 
 
 " You can give him that, Aline. Kern has 
 made me one already, and I do not need two." 
 
 " I am so sorry you are going, Lachlan," said 
 Aline, the tears rolling down her cheeks. 
 
 Lachlan could not speak. He shook the 
 offered hands, took the pretty purse, and left the 
 room. Tears were in his eyes when he was met 
 in the hall by Kern. 
 
 " Oh ! you have been there !" she said, looking 
 surprised. " Aline's purse, too !" 
 
 Lachlan and Kern dined with Mr. and Mrs. 
 Bull. The old people gave him some good 
 advice, and Mr. Bull added a guinea thereto, 
 unperceived by Kern. 
 
 "Be'st right to try thy fortune," said the 
 worthy farmer. " Thee'lt never do anything at 
 Yeo, but work all day in a pewter dish ; begin at
 
 206 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 one side, and come back to the same again. Let 
 me know if you want a pound, and shalt 
 have it." 
 
 Mrs. Bull gave him three pairs of stockings 
 that she had knitted for him, and the address of 
 her son-in-law, Dr. Dove, in London. All his 
 friends felt sure that he would go to London, 
 wherefore, they could not say. 
 
 From the Downs, Lachlan and Kern walked 
 to Brooklands, where the Lows lived. 
 
 As they left the farm by the garden-path, they 
 heard a sob from Aline's bedroom, and paused a 
 moment involuntarily to listen. The window 
 was open, and they heard Fluke's voice say 
 distinctly : — 
 
 *' Well! Miss Aline, I should be ashamed of 
 myself if I was you." 
 
 Aline sobbed impatiently in reply. 
 
 " Do go down to mamma. Fluke, and don't be 
 disagreeable. Why may I not cry for Lachlan, 
 if I like?" 
 
 Kern would have listened longer, but Lachlan 
 walked on. As they ascended the Downs, they 
 looked back at the farm. Aline was standing 
 at the open window, watching them, and when 
 they turned, she waved her hand to them again 
 and again. 
 
 Once more, on the top of the Downs, Kern
 
 lachlan's adieux. 207 
 
 witnessed Lachlan's emotion. He could not keep 
 from tears. 
 
 *'I suppose you are crying for Aline!" she 
 said, satirically. " I am sure she is a weak, silly 
 child, and not worth your tears." 
 
 Lachlan glanced at Kern, but said nothing, 
 and they walked on in silence. 
 
 At Brooklands they found a four-o'clock tea 
 ready for them, and Jemima in full fuss as hostess. 
 George had gone to the Manor, to bring back as 
 many of the family as would come to have a last 
 evening with Lachlan. 
 
 He soon appeared, accompanied by all the 
 party except Mr. Lyons, Kezia, and the 
 twins. 
 
 "Father-in-law asked grandfather and grand- 
 mother, and Mrs. Fluke to come," said Jemima. 
 " He's taken a wonderful liking to Mrs. Fluke. 
 I say, father-in-law, have you proposed for Mrs. 
 Fluke yet ?" 
 
 " Father-in-law," was a stout, rosy, well-to-do 
 looking man, of about fifty ; who did not appear 
 to possess much more general information than 
 his son George, and had still less conversation : 
 but Farmer Bull said of him that he took in 
 everything that passed just as he did his tobacco- 
 smoke — more of it stopped behind than people 
 thought.
 
 208 NOTHiisra venture, nothing have. 
 
 Certain it is, that lie was always smoking and 
 seldom talking, and little passed out of his lips 
 but the results of the smoking, and a few mono- 
 syllables; though his powers of imbibing were 
 considerable. 
 
 Brooklands was a large, rich, valley farm, 
 and everything about it proved the wisdom of 
 Jemima's choice. 
 
 " Now, mother, you shall see if my baking- 
 cakes ain't as good as yours," said Jemima, as a 
 pile of smoking cakes, buttered as they came 
 from the oven, was put upon the table. 
 
 *' Famous cakes, Mima's," said father-in-law, 
 putting down his pipe and taking up two huge 
 pieces of cake, which he began to eat. 
 
 " Cheer up, Lachlan," said George. " You 
 know 'tis your own choice. Needn't go if doesn't 
 like, eh ! mother-law ?" 
 
 " I'm sure I don't want Lachlan to go, George," 
 said Mrs. Lyons, in an injured tone of voice. 
 * ' You all put his going away upon me, as if I 
 was the one to make him go. I must say it's 
 very hard. But evjerybody throws the blame of 
 everything on me always. I do think my own 
 children " 
 
 " Oh, mother-law, stop up, do ! Let's be 
 cheerful, for once," said George. 
 
 " And I assure you, aunt, 1 am going on my
 
 LACHLAX'S ADIEUX. 209 
 
 own account, and shall hope to see you all again 
 soon," said Lachlan, rousing himself. 
 
 " Cake?" said Mr. Low, handing the plate to 
 Mrs. Lyons. 
 
 They began tea in good earnest, and did ho- 
 nour to Jemima's cheer. 
 
 After tea, Mr. Bull, Mr. Lyons, and Kezia 
 made their appearance. 
 
 " Mrs. Fluke ? " ejaculated Mr. Low, taking 
 his pipe from his mouth, and looking at Mr. 
 Bull. 
 
 " The ladies couldn't come, Squoire. Too far 
 for my missus, and Mrs. Fluke couldn't leave 
 hers. I'm sorry you're disappointed ; but they 
 sent their best respects." 
 
 " Oh !" said Mr. Low, putting his pipe into 
 his mouth again. 
 
 " I should never have thought of coming, if I 
 could have fancied you and Kezia would have 
 come. Job," said Mrs. Lyons. " I don't very often 
 go out to be sure, and when I do, I think Kezia 
 might have stayed at home with the twins." 
 
 ^' I insisted on her coming with me," said Mr. 
 Lyons, " and put Nanny to sit with the twins, till 
 they were asleep." 
 
 " You don't mean to say that you left the 
 little angels awake ! Well, Kezia !" 
 
 "Now, mother -law, do 'ee stop up," said 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 George. " I've something to show'ee which '11 
 stop a woman's tongue, if anything will. No 
 good to hinder me, Lachlan ; they shall have 'em 
 all before you leave." 
 
 George went to a cupboard that filled half of 
 one side of the parlour, and brought forth a great 
 many parcels of various sizes, all ticketed. 
 
 Lachlan exclaimed against his doing so, but it 
 was useless. 
 
 " Lachlan told me to give away all these 
 things, after he was gone," said George; "and I 
 don't see why you shouldn't thank 'un for his pre- 
 sents before he goes. So, now, pick and choose, 
 there's one a-piece for everybody. That's how 
 he's spent his lecture-money ; and dang me if I 
 think he's kept any for his-self. There, mother- 
 law! what do you think of that? I knew 
 you'd stop up. A real French article! All 
 the way from Paris. France, chief town Paris, 
 Mima." 
 
 *' My !" said Farmer Low, taking his pipe 
 out of his mouth, to look at a green silk dress, 
 with a violet stripe in it. 
 
 " Mother, here's a beautiful doll !" cried 
 Rhoda. 
 
 " Look at this slap-up whip ! And this !" ex- 
 claimed Mark and Luke. 
 
 " Baccy-box ! thank'ee lad," said Mr. Low,
 
 lachlan's adieux. 211 
 
 nodding, and fixing his round blue eyes on 
 Lachlan. 
 
 " Oh ! Cousin, how very kind," said Kezia, 
 opening a handsome Bible with marginal refer- 
 ences. " You remembered what I said once ?" 
 
 " A little gold locket ; what I have been long- 
 ing for, always ! And your hair in it !" said 
 Kern. '' Oh, thank you, Lachlan, thank you." 
 
 "• And such a lovely pair of chimney orna- 
 ments !" said Jemima. 
 
 " And a drum and fife for Jacob and Esau !" 
 said Mark, who had been unable to refrain from 
 peeping into the twins' future possessions. 
 
 " Tliat's cruel, Lachlan,'* said Mr. Lyons. 
 " They make noise enough, already. But thank 
 you for my handsome silk handkerchief." 
 
 '' And here's a baccy-box for you, grand- 
 father; and a needlebook for grandmother, and 
 ribbons for all the maids, and neck-ties for all the 
 boys. And now -guess what the young scamp 
 has bought for me." 
 
 " Murray's Grammar," said Kern, gravely. 
 
 " Not so far off; guess again." 
 
 " A spelling-book ?" still without a smile. 
 
 " No, Miss Impudence ; but the Lives of the 
 Twelve Patriarchs." 
 
 A universal roar of laughter drowned the 
 thanks which were being lavished on Lachlan.
 
 212 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 " Well, nephew, I'm sure I'm very much 
 obliged," said Mrs. Lyons, dejectedly. " I 
 didn't desire it — — " 
 
 " Nor deserve it," whispered Kern. 
 
 " And I'm sure I don't want you to leave us ; 
 but an invalid like me, nephew, and ten children, 
 and so much to think of 1 never saw a pret- 
 tier green; I wish I had had it for Jemima's 
 wedding." 
 
 •' Do for Kezia's!" said George. 
 
 " Or Kern's!" said Mr. Bull. " When is it 
 to be, Lachlan? You must come back a rich 
 man and a baronet both, if you mean to have 
 Kern ; for she always said she'd marry a gentle- 
 man." 
 
 Kern's handsome face flushed, and she looked 
 angrily at her grandfather, and moved away 
 from Lachlan's side, where she was always to be 
 seen when they were both in the same room. 
 
 "Don't mind him, cousin,"* said Lachlan, who 
 was glad of any diversion from the presents. 
 '' A navvy would never aspire " 
 
 " Want you," said Farmer Low, looking at 
 George and Lachlan, and rising from his chair. 
 
 They followed him out of the room, into the 
 adjoining hall. He went to a bureau, and un- 
 locking it, took out a five-pound note. 
 
 " Baccy-box — Patriarch — chimney — any ob-
 
 lachlan's adieux. 213 
 
 jection?" he said to George, pointing to the 
 note. 
 
 " None in the world : quite right, father," said 
 George. 
 
 '' There !" said Mr. Low, putting the note into 
 Lachlan's hand, and locking the bureau. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Low, I cannot " began Lachlan. 
 
 " You shall pay again when you're rich," said 
 George, forcibly pulling Lachlan out of the room. 
 "Don't offend the old gentleman. He always 
 means what he says." 
 
 Again Lachlan was greeted with thanks and 
 reproaches — the one for his presents, the other 
 for spending his money in buying them. The 
 children were clamorous in entreating him to re- 
 main amongst them ; the elders said nothing, 
 except Mr. Low, who repeated at intervals of 
 tobacco-puffs, " bide — bide — rolling-stone — 
 moss." 
 
 To which Lachlan replied by another proverb, 
 '* Nothing venture, nothing have."
 
 214 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AMONG THE NAVVIES. 
 
 In the course of a few weeks, Mr. Lyons received 
 a letter from Lachlan ; and at intervals of three, 
 six, nine, or even twelve months, his other 
 friends at Yeo heard from him also. I shall 
 transcribe his letters, which, rare as they were, 
 proved the only news his relatives ever had of 
 him. The first was as follows : — 
 
 «Post-Office, Marketon, 
 
 "April 1st, 18-— 
 
 " My dear Uncle, 
 
 ^' Here I am settled at last ; for the pre- 
 sent at least. I had a week's hard walking and 
 hard living before I reached the new line. I en- 
 joyed it, however; saw the country, and got 
 more specimens than I could carry. I am not to 
 forget Yeo. I was sitting down by the road- 
 side, weary, and not in very good spirits, the
 
 AMONG THE NAVVIES. 215 
 
 third day after I left you, when, to my astonish- 
 ment, the old dog jumped upon me from behind. 
 I only hope the friends I have left will be as 
 faithful as the one that scented me through two 
 counties ! What were Mark and Luke about that 
 they did not keep the old fellow shut up ? I sup- 
 pose he broke the rope, as he had the remains of 
 it rouiid his neck. 
 
 " I thought he would have smothered me ; his 
 white coat was brown with dust and dirt ; but he 
 didn't care how much of them he gave me. I 
 was very glad to see him, and felt comforted. 
 He was starving, so I gave him my bread and 
 cheese, and we have been together ever since. 
 He takes care not to let me out of his sight. 
 How are the birds ? 
 
 " But I must not lose time and paper, when 
 postage costs so much. 
 
 " I got to Marketon at last, and heard that the 
 railroad was about seven miles from it. I bought 
 my tools, shouldered them, and walked on till I 
 reached it, and saw a band of navvies at work. 
 They were a rough lot. I inquired if I could 
 get employment ; and they said I had better ask 
 the engineer, who was somewhere down the line. 
 I heard them laugh, and call me a young 'un, but 
 I went on. 
 
 " In about an hour, I saw a gentleman exa-
 
 216 NOTHINa VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 mining some rails that had been laid down, and 
 heard him explaining to some men that they 
 were badly done. He seemed angry. I halted 
 and stood at some distance from the party, till 
 he ceased speaking, and the men fell to work to 
 alter the rails. I then went up to him and asked 
 for employment. He eyed me keenly, and in- 
 quired if I were a navvy ; I said, No •, but that I 
 was used to field-work, draining, and the like, 
 and wished to learn. 
 
 " 'You may go and try,' he said; ' and if I 
 see you are up to work, you shall have it.' 
 
 " I began with a will, and shovelled away so 
 vigorously, that, at the end of the day, when my 
 labours were examined, I got very good wages ; 
 and from that time to this, I have been a navvy. 
 
 " I have seen some rough work in Australia, 
 and we weren't idle at Yeo, but I never knew 
 what work really was before. 
 
 " Tell Kern that she would admire my dress, 
 hair, and complexion more than ever. But I 
 have found geological specimens already that 
 would make you laugh ; and drawn a map of the 
 country, that set my fellow-labourers wondering. 
 It is bad enough, but I suppose it is better than 
 they could do, and so they are more civil than 
 they were at first. One of them got hold of it, 
 and showed it to the rest, and asked me where
 
 « 
 
 AMONG THE NAVVIES. 217 
 
 I learnt to do such things. When 1 said in 
 Australia, they were all alive ; and I was ques- 
 tioned by them just as I was at Yeo. 
 
 " The dog is a great favourite. I am so glad 
 my poor father named bim ' Yeo.' Whenever 
 I call him, it reminds me of the pretty village 
 and all my kind friends. 
 
 " This is a lonely place. There is not a town or 
 village nearer than Marketon, and most of us are 
 too tired to walk there after our day's work. A 
 middle-aged man, Stern by name, for whom I 
 was able to do some little service, is lodging at a 
 cottage about a mile from where we are labour- 
 ing, and he shares his room with me. I didn't 
 like it at first, but I have got used to it now, and 
 one must put up with strange bed-fellows. 
 
 " He is a north countryman, and I can scarcely 
 understand him. Perhaps this is lucky for me, 
 as he lectures me nightly, when I sit up to work 
 those ' ridiculous problems, ' as Kern used to 
 call them. Remind her of her promise of writing 
 to me. A letter would be a great treat in this 
 solitude ; for solitude it is, although peopled by 
 navvies. They do not understand me, and I do not 
 understand them, as yet ; but we shall know one 
 another better before we part, I dare say. Some- 
 thing always turns up to prove that all men are 
 brethren ; though Stern and I learnt the lesson
 
 218 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 by his tumbling down and nearly breaking his 
 leg. 
 
 " Give my love to my aunt and cousins, and 
 my best respects to my friends at the Downs 
 and the Nest. I shall write to Mr. Eagles when 
 I have anything worth writing about. The 
 moon is shining in upon me whilst I write, just 
 as she used to do at the old Manor, or in our 
 Australian tent. I thought of you all when I 
 was at church this morning. I walked to Marke- 
 ton for service — to the great amusement of most 
 of my companions, who, if they went so far, went, 
 I fear, to the ale-house. I tried to persuade some 
 of them to go with me, but they only shouted 
 and called me names. Tell Kezia that I had 
 some difficulty in keeping down my temper and 
 my fists ; but for once I did. 
 
 *' I hope the twins are well, and George and 
 Jemima. Eemember me to them and to Mr. 
 Low, most gratefully, and believe me to be, 
 
 " Your dutiful and affectionate nephew, 
 *' Lachlan Lyons." 
 
 About six months after the receipt of the fore- 
 going epistle, Mr. Eagles received the follow- 
 ing :—
 
 AMONG THE NAVVIES. 219 
 
 "Sunley, 
 "September 29, 18— 
 
 " My dear Sir, 
 
 " As my cousin Kern told rae that you 
 had read my first and last letter, I need not 
 repeat what I said therein. We have worked 
 our way from Marketon towards Sunley, a pretty 
 village with a post-office, about five miles hence. 
 We are now near a scattered hamlet, where we 
 get food and lodging pretty reasonably. My 
 good fi^iend Stern sticks to me, and in his fatherly 
 interest, insists on my continuing to share his 
 room, and all this because I broke his fall, instead 
 of his breaking his leg. 
 
 " I am raised to the office of quarry man. We 
 are cutting through rock ! and such rock ! I can 
 scarcely stick to my work for searching for all 
 sorts of petrefactions. Preadamite, whatever 
 you may say against the new theory. 
 
 " But I am not going to write about theories, 
 though mine has brought me some luck. About 
 two months ago I was examining a fossil that I 
 had turned up, when Mr. Parker came near me. 
 It was dinner-time, so I was not idling. He 
 noticed what I was looking at, questioned me 
 about it, and, I suppose, was surprised to see 
 that a navvy knew anything of geology. He has
 
 220 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHINa HAVE. 
 
 a very small smattering of it, and kindly told 
 me what I knew very well already ; but of course, 
 I listened to his rudiments. Don't think me vain, 
 but they were only the rudiments. 
 
 " Stern came to listen, and spoke up for me. 
 I would rather he had let it alone, but the up- 
 shot of it was, that Mr. Parker lent me some 
 books — rudimentary, of course, but very useful. 
 Ever since, I find that he has his eye upon me, 
 although he does not take any particular notice 
 of me ; indeed it would not do amongst so many 
 men, who would soon be jealous of me. 
 
 " My comrades soon found out that I could 
 write, and I am therefore become secretary to 
 the navvies. I write their letters, and sometimes 
 settle their accounts. Miss Eagles would be 
 amused at the love-letters I write. Never having 
 read many novels, I had no idea what people said 
 before ; and then I read the answers ! Wasn't 
 it the Saxons who believed figures to be too dif- 
 ficult for the human mind ? 
 
 " Well ! some of my unmathematical friends 
 look upon me as a prodigy because I do their 
 sums ' in my head.' My few talents are making 
 me a reputation, and I am trying to follow Cousin 
 Kezia's good advice — of not letting them be 
 wholly selfish. She used to say that I thought 
 of nobody and of nothing when I was reading or
 
 AMONG THE NAVVIES. 221 
 
 writing ; so, like you, my dear sir, I am going to 
 be unselfish if I can. 
 
 " I was thinking one evening of what there was 
 in the world for me to do for others, and wishing 
 that I had somebody to work for besides myself. 
 I had not long to wish. All my wishes get 
 accomplished in a moment, in the most singular 
 ways. A young man came to me and said, 
 abruptly enough, 
 
 '' ' I wish you'd teach me to write, man.' 
 
 " * With pleasure,' said I. 
 
 " And then and there I gave him his first 
 lesson. 
 
 " In spite of hard work and late work — for 
 during the fine long days, we often worked after 
 hours — my pupil's big, rough hand made wonder- 
 ful letters every night. By degrees he got on so 
 well, that Stern was astonished, and held me up 
 as a writing-master as well as geologist. I had 
 soon plenty to do for others as well as myself. 
 
 " Several of the men asked me to teach them, 
 and I have now quite a large writing-class. 
 
 " One thing weighed upon my mind from the 
 first. I could not bear to see my companions 
 drink, and to hear them curse and swear on 
 Sunday ; so I made those I taught to write on 
 the week-day evenings, promise that they would 
 come and read with me on the Sunday evenings.
 
 222 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 This was to be the condition and payment. They 
 called me an odd chap, and laughed at me ; but 
 I stood firm, and they gave in. Stern asked me 
 what put such things into my head. I was 
 puzzled to answer him, for they came there — I 
 don't know how. But it removes the weight of 
 loneliness from one's mind, to feel that one is of 
 some use in the world. 
 
 " If I had my ^ specimens ' here, I think I 
 should be inclined to go over our lectures on 
 Australia, for the men are wild about emigration ; 
 and many who have wives and families elsewhere, 
 talk of going out. But this would seem pre- 
 sumptuous, perhaps ; though I would only say 
 what I have said before. 
 
 " Last Sunday afternoon it was so fine and 
 warm that we had our reading out of doors. I 
 suppose the force of custom took us to the rail- 
 road, for thither we went. 
 
 " From the rocks that I mentioned before, 
 there is a fine view, and we navvies, rough as we 
 are, love Nature. Seated upon the pieces of 
 rock, blasted or hewn down ; with a background 
 of rock, and a foreground of meadow-land, wood, 
 and water, on which the sun was shining brightly ; 
 ten or a dozen of us were assembled. Stern, 
 who has a good voice, and is a good man I think, 
 led the evening hymn, in which as many as
 
 AMONG THE ISTAVYIES. 223 
 
 could, joined. Singing is not my forte, as you 
 very well know, so I didn't venture. 
 
 " Whilst they were singing, I saw Mr. Parker 
 and another gentleman at a distance, stopping to 
 listen, as it seemed to me. When the hymn was 
 finished, we sat down, and I began to read a por- 
 tion of the Church service. I suppose there is 
 no harm, though I am not a clergyman ; I wish 
 I could ask Mr. Raven. I used his prayer- 
 book. 
 
 " I could not help thinking of similar scenes 
 in Australia, when my poor father assembled 
 still wilder-looking men on the Sunday, for a 
 similar purpose. My friends were dressed, as 
 was I, in clean smock-frocks, and were as solemn 
 as if I had been really a preacher, and in my 
 pulpit. 
 
 '' We were reading the Psalms for the day, 
 verse about — for most of them could read, and 
 some had prayer-books — when Mr. Parker and 
 his companion passed us. We stopped and 
 touched our hats. 
 
 " Mr. Parker, who is always in a hurry, and 
 has his profession in his eyebrows as well as his 
 heart, just touched his hat, and would have gone 
 on had not his friend paused. 
 
 " I do not think that I have ever mentioned 
 that Mr. Parker is not the head engineer.
 
 224 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 but the one appointed for this particular por- 
 tion of the line. His companion was Mr. Mark- 
 man, the ^chief ; but I did not know it at the 
 time. 
 
 " This gentleman stopped, looked at us, and 
 turned back. We did not go on reading, but 
 when he saw what books we had in our hands, 
 he begged us to proceed, and asked to be allowed 
 to join us. 
 
 " Of course I got up, offered him my book, 
 and asked him to be good enough to continue 
 the service. At first he seemed inclined to 
 refuse, but I suppose he thought that I was 
 frightened, as I was, and therefore took my 
 book. He was parson now, and I clerk. Mr. 
 Parker remained, much against his will, I 
 think. 
 
 "Mr. Markman read the rest of the service 
 as well as a clergyman, and then said that, 
 having so good an opportunity, he should like to 
 add a little lay sermon to the very salutary 
 reading we had had. 
 
 " Just then some more navvies came up, bent, 
 I believe, on ridiculing us, but seeing Mr. Mark- 
 man, they stood quietly by. 
 
 " He made us all a very plain and interesting 
 address. There was nothing personal in it. He 
 simply said that he was pleased to have founc* ns
 
 AMOXG THE NAVVIES. 225 
 
 SO profitably engaged, and to be able to speak to us 
 as a friend ; lie who, from circumstances and press 
 of occupation, rarely came in contact with us. 
 He then gave us all some sound practical advice 
 upon our duties to God and to one another, and 
 said that he should be glad to be put into the 
 way* of furthering our spiritual wants, as he 
 hoped he was always ready to assist us tempo- 
 rally. 
 
 "When he had said this, he looked round 
 inquiringly. I scarcely know how or why it 
 was, but most of my companions pointed to me. 
 He was coming to speak to me, when Mr. Parker 
 looked at his watch, and said that he was afraid 
 they should be late for dinner. The word 
 'dinner' was electrical, and something about 
 ' Sir John ' was the thunderclap. 
 
 "They nodded, and hurried away; and so a 
 baronet and his dinner spoilt my chance of 
 speaking, and being spoken to, by one of the 
 greatest engineers in Europe. I wished all the 
 baronets in England, myself included, and all the 
 dinners in England, my own included, extinct, 
 when, after they were gone, I heard who he 
 was. 
 
 " However, the following morning there came 
 a large parcel of religious books, copy-books, and 
 the like, directed to me, for distribution amongst 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 the navvies. I hope I was not very wicked, 
 but I wished them with the baronets and the 
 dinners. All the men laughed when they took 
 the books, and said many queer things. 
 
 " Stern thought Parker, who is not a favourite 
 with the men, was at the bottom of it, and 
 wished Mr. Markman had given them a good 
 dinner instead of all those tracts and copy-slips. 
 For my own part, I was angry because I wanted 
 engineering books, and had been done out of 
 speaking to Mr. Markman. But he looked well 
 at me, and I hope he will remember me if we 
 ever meet again. He has such a pair of eyes, 
 and such a remarkable face. Ugly enough, but 
 so full of intelligence. Parker, on the contrary, 
 is handsome, but lacks the quick, keen expres- 
 sion that seems to cut you through. 
 
 " We have had some bad weather lately, and 
 this foggy, damp climate gives one cold and bad 
 temper. You can cure everything, my dear sir ; 
 can you give me a receipt for these English 
 complaints? I never had them in Australia. 
 Poor old Stern, too, has a cough that keeps him 
 awake half the night, and he says he wishes he 
 could turn a tract into a mixture. If we are 
 ailing from September rains, what shall we be 
 at Christmas ? 
 
 " I must conclude this long letter, by begging
 
 AMONG THE NAVVIES. 227 
 
 to be remembered to all my friends ; and hoping 
 that it will find you and Miss Eagles well, I 
 remain, 
 
 '' My dear Sir, 
 
 " Yours with sincere respect, 
 " Lachlan Lyons.'*
 
 228 NOTHING TEiNTUEE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 MR. OLIVER bat's SUSPICIONS. 
 
 About a month after the receipt of Lachlan's 
 last letter, as Miss Eagles was on the Downs, 
 Imrrying home from her morning work at the 
 farm, she met Mr. Oliver Bat. As she saw him 
 approaching, she reasoned thus with herself — 
 
 " I have a great mind to pass him by. He 
 never comes near us now : and I believe he is 
 half in love either with that child Aline or with 
 that woman Kern, for he is always maundering 
 about these Downs, either on horseback or on 
 foot. That is just as he used to do after me 
 years ago. And he is such a precise-looking, 
 twinkling-eyed, clever, satirical, red-whiskered, 
 impenetrable, provoking " 
 
 The soliloquy was cut short, as Miss Eagles 
 was hurrying past Mr. Oliver with a majestic 
 bow, by that gentleman's calmly exclaiming — 
 
 " What a hurry you are in, Miss Ellen ! Pray
 
 MR. OJJVER bat's SUSPICIONS. 229 
 
 stop a bit, I want to speak to you. Won't you 
 shake hands ? How have I been so unfortunate 
 as to offend you? I suppose you learnt your 
 new manners from the German mystics." 
 
 "Where have you learnt your new manners, 
 Mr. Oliver ?" asked Ellen, stopping to speak 
 to him. 
 
 "I am going to walk with you, if you will 
 allow me. I am charged with a secret, of which 
 I must discharge myself as soon as possible." 
 
 Miss Eagles blushed. 
 
 " Your father showed my brother that young 
 Lyons's letter, and allowed him to bring it home 
 to us. We are all interested in the j^outh, par- 
 ticularly Nicholas ; and we want you to enclose 
 him a ten-pound note, to buy him some engineer- 
 ing books, which he seems anxious to get." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Oliver ; this is very kind. 
 I will do what you ask." 
 
 Mr. Oliver gave Miss Eagles the note. They 
 walked on together for a few minutes in silence, 
 until they came to the old Eoman encampment, 
 before alluded to. 
 
 ''Have you half an hour to spare, Miss 
 Eagles?" said Mr. Oliver, stiffly and abruptly. 
 " I particularly want to speak to you." 
 
 "Pray speak on, Mr. Bat, I listen," replied 
 Ellen, slacking somewhat her ever rapid pace.
 
 230 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHINa HAVE. 
 
 " Would you mind sitting down here ? I can- 
 not talk when I walk ; and you really race, Miss 
 Ellen." 
 
 " Why not come to the ' Nest ?' You may talk 
 at your ease there." 
 
 "No; everybody listens everywhere. You 
 have a little maid who is sure to listen. I am 
 afraid to speak above my breath in my own 
 library, the servants listen so abominably." 
 
 " Have you so many secrets ?" 
 
 " Of course I have. Don't you think we three 
 bachelor brothers have plenty of tendresses to 
 pour out to one another? But, seriously, you 
 must sit down here, where we can see everyone 
 that approaches, for a mile off, at least; and 
 where none but the small birds are likely to 
 listen." 
 
 Mr. Oliver led Ellen to a mound of the 
 encampment, and when she sat down he seated 
 himself by her side. She averted her face from 
 him, in order that he might not see how very red 
 she was. 
 
 " Miss Eagles," he began, and paused. " Ellen ! 
 we are old friends. I have known you from a 
 child. I feel a great interest in you and your 
 father. Whenever I have it in my power I 
 speak well of you both, and defend you, if any 
 one says a word against you."
 
 MR. OLIVER bat's SUSPICIONS. 231 
 
 " I am sure we ought to be much obliged and 
 flattered by your speaking of us, for you never 
 speak to us," said Miss Eagles, her black eye- 
 brows suddenly meeting and her eyes flashing. 
 
 Mr. Oliver smiled. 
 
 " I am now going to speak both of and to you ; 
 and you must forgive me if I say anything to 
 annoy you; and believe that the strongest 
 interest could alone make me speak at all." 
 
 "Pray speak out, Mr. Oliver; you frighten 
 one to death with this long preamble." 
 
 " I will speak out. Your name is mentioned 
 in this village and neighbourhood of Yeo in a 
 manner derogatory to your position and educa- 
 tion as a lady." 
 
 " Is that all ? Do you detain me thus to tell 
 me what I know already? Pray let me go on." 
 
 Miss Eagles attempted to rise, but Mr. Bat 
 detained her. 
 
 "All!" he continued, hastily, forgetting his 
 usually somewhat formal manner in an unusual 
 excitement. '' All ! Do 3^ou call it nothing for 
 a woman's name to be bandied about by village 
 gossips and boors, and made a jest of by those 
 who are jealous of her ? Nothing to be reported 
 to be carrying on a clandestine correspondence 
 by initials with some unknown man, who answers 
 by initials? Ellen Eagles! I know to a cer-
 
 232 NOTHINa VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 tainty that this is the case. I know that you 
 have been writing for some years, at intervals, 
 now becoming shorter, to some one who answers 
 you ; that it is without your father's knowledge ; 
 that you and your confidante, the ridiculous 
 little maid, are perpetually to and from the post 
 ofiQce ; and that you run the risk of losing your 
 reputation as a prudent, well-conducted woman." 
 
 " And pray how have you discovered this 
 marvellous romance, Mr. Oliver Bat ?" said Miss 
 Eagles, turning her black eyes and knitted brows 
 upon that gentleman. 
 
 " By questioning the postmaster, and bribing 
 the immaculate little maid. Miss Ellen Eagles," 
 replied Mr. Bat, fixing his twinkling orbs upon 
 the handsome face, now pale as twilight. 
 
 " And you dare to confess this to me ?" 
 
 " I do. Before I could deny the facts that 
 were canvassed in my hearing, I must have proof 
 that they were false. I sought for proof and 
 found they were true. I can now only leave that 
 company in which I hear your name aspersed. 
 Can you, and will you clear up this mystery ?" 
 
 Ellen bit her lip ; but was silent. 
 
 " You cannot, or will not. At first I believed 
 you were writing to your brother — fully gave 
 you credit for it ; but, when I saw the letter, I 
 knew that the writing was not his."
 
 MR. OLIVER bat's SUSPICIONS. 233 
 
 " Saw the letter ! You dared to open " 
 
 " No ; not to open your letter, though I longed 
 to do so. I only saw the address." 
 
 " Mean ! cowardly !" cried Miss Eagles, tears 
 springing to her eyes. " What right had you to 
 question the postmaster — tamper with my ser- 
 vant ?" 
 
 " The right of friendship— of " 
 
 " Friendship ! If you can believe me guilty 
 of the things you hint at, I am not worthy of 
 your friendship or you of mine. I renounce it." 
 
 " Then you are not guilty ? You can tell me 
 why, and with whom you carry ©n this corre- 
 spondence ?" 
 
 " Wherefore should I tell you ? Have you 
 been so kind and so friendly for the last three or 
 four years, that I am to make you my confidant ? 
 Is the woman whose name is bandied about Yeo, 
 as you express it, because she corresponds with 
 one man, to make herself still more conspicuous 
 by holding private verbal communications with 
 another ?" 
 
 " Oh, Ellen ! if you knew why I am thus in- 
 terested in you, you would not speak so bit- 
 terly." 
 
 Ellen's blood again flushed up under the clear 
 olive skin. 
 
 " Mr. Oliver, I don't understand the sort of in-
 
 234 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 teres! you profess to take in me. When I am 
 interested in a person — am a friend in short — I 
 don't forsake that person and her relations, with- 
 out good reason. I know the difference of station 
 that exists between us " 
 
 ^' Hush ! hush ! don't offend me by such words. 
 Don't misjudge me. Your brother and I were 
 friends. I esteem your father — I — I — have 
 loved you, Ellen, ever since you were a child." 
 
 Ellen's face softened, and her eyes gleamed 
 with something between a smile and a tear. 
 
 " So you used to tell me," she said, more 
 gently than she had spoken before, " when I was 
 a little girl, and you were so kind to me ; but, 
 you have ceased to care for me for a long, long 
 time." 
 
 " Hear me, whilst I tell you why I have 
 seemed to cease to care for you. As a child 
 and young girl, you were wild and wilful enough, 
 but gentle and teachable when spoken to. As a 
 woman, you are cold, hard, unapproachable ; al- 
 ways on the defensive, impatient of advice or 
 control, as at this present moment, un " 
 
 " Thank you, that is enough," said Ellen, 
 rising, her face again firm, fixed and pale as 
 marble. " I now perfectly understand why you 
 are so changed. I am sorry that circumstances, 
 a hard life, and a harder world, should have made
 
 MR. OLIVER bat's SUSPICIONS. 235 
 
 the woman not daughter of the child. I am glad 
 to know all this, and I shall now wonder no 
 more." 
 
 A sound like a sob accompanied the last words, 
 and she turned to go away. 
 
 *' You must not leave me yet," said Mr. Oliver, 
 laying his hand on her arm, as he too rose from 
 his seat. " If I seem harsh and unkind, it is be- 
 cause the love I bore for the child makes me 
 madly anxious about the reputation of the wo- 
 man. If the man you love cared for your fair 
 fame one thousandth part as much as I do — your 
 old bachelor friend — he would not allow you to 
 write to him under feigned initials, and so lay 
 you open to the scandal of such a place as Yeo. 
 By heavens ! I wish I had him here, at this 
 moment ! I'd teach him to trifle with a woman's 
 honour." 
 
 Mr. Oliver's eyes twinkled as Ellen had never 
 seen them twinkle before, and his face grew as 
 red as his whiskers. 
 
 '' No man should ever dare to trifle with me, 
 Mr. Bat," said Miss Eagles. "• I suppose I ought 
 to be obliged to you for this interest, as you call 
 it ; but I would rather have one grain of faith in 
 me than a hundredweight of such doubting inte- 
 rest. I am thankful to have one person in the 
 world who will trust me — who will be quite sure
 
 236 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHINa HAVE. 
 
 that hard, cold, unapproachable, impatient of con- 
 trol, as I may be, and doubtless am, I could never 
 be guilty of one single action that could add one 
 more grey hair to his already bending head. God 
 help us, if our friends turn against us !" 
 
 " I repeat, that it is because I love you, Ellen 
 Eagles " 
 
 " Loved me as a child, despise me as a wo- 
 man. I reject the love, or friendship, or interest, 
 or whatever name you choose to give your feel- 
 ings for me, with scorn. If I have so conducted 
 myself as to deserve the hard names you have 
 used to me, you are wrong to be my friend ; if I 
 have not, you are wrong, a thousand times wrong, 
 to doubt me." 
 
 " Ellen, I am more than a friend ; I tell you 
 that I love you, in spite of these appearances 
 against you; that if they were cleared up I 
 would ask you to be mine — I would brave the 
 opinion of the world — I would " 
 
 " You ! would — condescend — to the poor 
 schoolmistress — the poor schoolmaster's daughter 
 
 the woman whose reputation is at stake ! — 
 
 the hard — cold — unapproachable Ellen Eagles ! 
 Thank you. But I will not condescend, Mr. 
 Oliver Bat, to marry any man who has not a 
 perfect faith in my honour, honesty of pur- 
 pose, and truth. A faith that will believe in
 
 MR. OLIVER bat's SUSPICIONS. 237 
 
 spite of appearances, and love through life to 
 death." 
 
 Miss Eagles was to be detained no longer. 
 She snatched her arm from Mr. Oliver's grasp, 
 and moved rapidly away. He looked after her, 
 but did not attempt to follow her. He stood 
 gazing, until she was out of sight, and then he sat 
 down on the seat she had left, and ruminated. 
 Had he spoken his thoughts aloud, they would 
 have been nearly as follows : 
 
 " Love through life to death, I may and shall, 
 Ellen Eagles; for I love you as I have never 
 loved mortal woman ; but, believe against ap- 
 pearances that you do not choose to explain, I 
 neither can nor will. Nor would I, though I 
 were half beside myself for your sake, marry 
 you, if you would have me, whilst a doubt of 
 your good name remained upon my mind. My 
 wife must be pure as the whitest snow. Brus- 
 querie, originality, rudeness — even strong-mind- 
 edness curtness and singularity, I have got 
 over; nay, I love her the better for them, in 
 spite of my inclination to hate such things in wo- 
 man ; but deceit and a clandestine correspond- 
 ence, never ! And yet it was when I first heard 
 of this correspondence, that I found out how 
 dearly I loved her. I nearly knocked down the 
 whole family of Loves and Daws, when they be-
 
 238 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHINa HAVE. 
 
 gan to discuss it three or four years ago. And 
 all these years I have been watching, doubting, 
 distrusting, and imagining, — until I have grown 
 more of a cynic than ever. I have tracked her 
 admirers to and from her door, and rejoiced to 
 see poor young Lyons depart for Australia. I 
 have haunted her pupils, till that lovely Kern 
 begins to look upon me as her swain. I have 
 tried to rouse her jealousy, by paying attention 
 to that sickly Margaret Ann, and that worthy 
 but gaunt Miss Raven. I have palpably neg- 
 lected both her and her father; and finally, I 
 have stooped to question a postmaster and bribe 
 a wretched little maid-servant. Oh! potent 
 love! the same from the days of your mother 
 Yenus to these present ones, making of an 
 Achilles a spinster, and of an Oliver Bat a 
 meaner man than he thought himself. And all 
 because of what ? Because Ellen Eagles is — is 
 — is just what she is; different from all other 
 women. I would rather see her beetling brows 
 frown at me fiercely as I did to-day, than be 
 smiled at by the sunniest damsel in the country. 
 I would rather hear one sharp sentence from her 
 original mind, than listen to all the sweetnesses 
 of all the honey-bees of the female hive — still I 
 would not marry her unless — . But I needn't 
 worry my mind on this head, as she has pointedly
 
 MR. OLIVER bat's SUSPICIONS. 239 
 
 refused me ; still she was vexed, evidently vexed, 
 by my change of conduct and manner. But no 
 matter, I am now an old bachelor for life ; so 
 back to my study and the consolations of litera- 
 ture. Heaven bless old Caxton, and Lauren tins, 
 and all the rest of 'em — But no ! out upon 'em 
 all ! I wish I was a monk, and had a whole 
 gospel to write out. And then I suppose I 
 should forget Ellen Eagles." 
 
 Just as Mr. Oliver Bat's naturally scholarly 
 mind was about to descend from the Eagle 
 flight, to a dissertation on monasteries and 
 printing. Aline and her pony, followed by a 
 brisk little terrier, appeared on the brow of the 
 hill. 
 
 As the terrier had been a present from Mr. 
 Oliver to Aline, the dog knew his former master, 
 and ran towards him. • He expressed his recog- 
 nition by such barks, jumps, and yelps as terriers 
 will make use of, whether they are welcome or 
 no; and Mr. Oliver was forced to notice him. 
 Aline, too, was soon at his heels, and Mr. Oliver 
 was forced to notice her also. 
 
 '' Have you seen Miss Eagles, Mr. Bat ?" said 
 Aline. " I was just going to try and overtake 
 her, for she says she can walk as fast as my pony 
 canters." 
 
 " So I should think," growled Mr. Bat.
 
 240 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 " Oh ! should YOU ? What has Max got in his 
 mouth ? It looks like a letter. Give it up, 
 Max, I say, give it up." 
 
 Aline was vainly attempting to make her dog 
 fetch and carry. The said dog had been named 
 " Max " by Mr. Oliver in remembrance of a 
 dispute that had taken place between him and 
 Miss Eagles, concerning Max Piccolomini and 
 Thekla. 
 
 " Give it up, sir," said Mr. Oliver, in a tone 
 that made Aline start and Max drop the paper 
 and run away. 
 
 Mr. Oliver picked it up, and found it to be 
 the ten-pound Bank of England note intended for 
 Lachlan Lyons, which Miss Eagles had dropped 
 in her excitement. 
 
 A sudden thought seemed to strike him. 
 
 " You are going after Miss Eagles, Miss 
 Rambully ; this belongs to her. Will you give 
 it to her from me ? You are to be trusted, I know. 
 
 He looked into the 'girl's loving and loveable 
 eyes, as she said " Yes," and sighed. Different 
 as was their expression, they were dark, and 
 somehow they reminded him of Ellen s when she 
 was fourteen. 
 
 He took out a pocket-book, tore out a sheet of 
 paper, and wrote the following lines : — 
 
 " You have dropped the enclosed, Ellen. You
 
 MR. OLIVER bat's SUSPICIONS. 241 
 
 will still send it to the boy, I know. ]No personal 
 pique will prevent your doing a kindness. For- 
 give my late impertinence ; I shall not remind 
 you of it by my presence. I think I shall go 
 abroad. May you be happy with , whom- 
 soever he may chance to be. A faithful friend 
 is the most tiresome, unbearable, intrusive, in- 
 quisitive creature in creation, and Oliver Bat 
 is one." 
 
 Mr. Bat folded the note in this paper, and gave 
 it to Aline. She had watched him while he was 
 writing it, and did not like the expression of his 
 countenance. 
 
 " If it is not kind, Mr. Bat," she said, simply, 
 " I would rather not take what you have written 
 to Miss Eagles." 
 
 '' Why ?" said Mr. Oliver, glancing hastily at 
 Aline. 
 
 "Because she is often very sad, and I would 
 not wish to make her sadder." 
 
 **Do you think anything I could say would 
 make her sad, Aline ?" 
 
 " I think it might. She told me you were very 
 kind to her when she was younger, and then she 
 loved you very much. I could not bear that 
 any one I loved should be unkind to me. It would 
 give me pain at my heart." 
 
 '* No one could ever be unkind to you, sweet 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 child. But I will add one line to my note, to 
 make you happy, and to assure Miss Eagles that 
 I feel towards her just as I did w^hen she was 
 younger. "Will that do ?" 
 
 Again Aline watched Mr. Oliver as he wrote, 
 and this time the expression of his face pleased 
 her. His additional line was as follows : — 
 
 " Ellen, I have ' a faith that believes, in spite 
 of appearances, and will love through life to 
 death; " 
 
 Those last words had remained stereotyped in 
 Mr. Oliver's mind, and he simply transcribed them. 
 
 " You will be kind enough to give the note to 
 Miss Eagles," he said, "and tell her that the 
 enclosure is what she herself dropped." 
 
 Aline nodded, and cantered off followed by 
 Max, barking and capering. 
 
 As she did not overtake Miss Eagles, she 
 ventured to ride on to the Nest. She was an 
 expert rider, and opened the gate into the road 
 with the crook of her whip, and was at the little 
 green gate in a few minutes. 
 
 She got off her pony, tied it to the gate, and 
 went to the cottage. No one was visible — no 
 one answered to her knock. The door was open, 
 and she went into the passage, and thence to the 
 parlour — thence up stairs to Miss Eagles room. 
 She tapped at the door.
 
 MK. OLIVER bat's SUSPICIONS. 243 
 
 " Go away, Jenny, I will never see you 
 again," said a hoarse voice from within. 
 
 " It is I, Miss Eagles— Aline." 
 
 '* Stop one moment, Aline," said the hoarse 
 voice again. 
 
 Shortly the door was opened, and Miss Eagles 
 appeared, her face stern and pale, but with traces 
 of tears upon it. 
 
 " You dropped something on the Downs, Miss 
 Eagles, and Mr. Oliver Bat asked me to give it 
 to you. Will you just see that it is right ?" 
 
 The dark brows met as Miss Eagles opened 
 the note, and saw the writing. 
 
 '' It is all right, Aline ; thank you. It is a ien- 
 pound note that they have begged me to send 
 Lachlan to buy him books." 
 
 '' I am so glad ! But will you not read the 
 note ? Mr. Oliver says he is just as fond of you 
 as ever he was ; and so you have not lost your 
 friend." 
 
 " You and Mr. Oliver appear to be on won- 
 derfully intimate terms, Aline. But, child, you 
 must never come here again — never ! No shadow 
 of the stain they throw on me must fall on you. 
 Go, Aline ! go ! Keep to your mother, your in- 
 nocent pursuits, your simple heart, and do not 
 leave the Downs Farm, for all the love that all 
 the world could offer."
 
 244 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 " I never mean to leave it, dear Miss Eagles, 
 and I never mean to leave you either. But I 
 will go, as you wish it." 
 
 Aline kissed Miss Eagles, and lingered with 
 her arm round her neck. Miss Eagles suddenly 
 threw her arms round the young girl, and sobbed. 
 Then recovering herself, opened the door, and 
 gently impelled her from the room. 
 
 Aline went, wondering, and half weeping, to 
 her pony. She found Jenny holding it. 
 
 "Oh! Miss Eumbully, Miss Eambully !" 
 cried the little maid, as Aline came through ^the 
 gate. " Her'n a deazed me a moast. Her as 
 zent me away. Doo'e goo and ax parding vor 
 me. Miss, please. I shall drown'd myself, I 
 shall. And missus a' been zoo kind to veather 
 and mother, and all ! And I never meaned no 
 wrong. And Measter Bat be zuch a grand 
 genleman. It warnt bezeemen to zay 'ee 
 shouldn't 'ave a look at the letter. Zummet 
 '11 kill me if I do peart vrom her. Her zaid 
 her'd never zet eyes on me agen. Oh dear ! 
 Oh dear !" 
 
 Jenny's sobs and cries were so loud, that Aline 
 was frightened. 
 
 " Ax her to vorgive me, Miss, or uch'll drowned 
 myself. An' mother '11 kill me a moast." 
 The sobs and cries brought out Miss Eagles.
 
 MR. OLIVER bat's SUSPICIONS. 245 
 
 '' Jenny, I ordered you to go home, and never 
 to let me see you again," she said. 
 
 Jenny fell on her knees, and clasped her 
 hands, crying — 
 
 " Uch'll drowned myself vust, — Mother '11 
 wollop me to death, — veather '11 goo an get 
 drunk, — an' yo' zed uch ud go. Uch '11 never 
 do it no moare ! Oh ! Miss Ellen, Miss Ellen !" 
 
 " Do, dear, dear Miss Eagles, forgive her," 
 pleaded Aline, glancing into Miss Eagles' face. 
 
 She did not need to look twice. The evil 
 spirit had departed, and there was a calmer light 
 in the lately flashing eyes, and the frown of the 
 knitted brows was gone. She was sure that the 
 words written by Mr. Oliver had been read with 
 some degree of satisfaction. She mounted her 
 pony, and rode ofi*, leaving Jenny to plead alone. 
 
 Miss Eagles told the little maid to get up, and 
 return to the house, which she did as fast as she 
 could, saying — 
 
 " Thank 'ee. Miss — bless 'ee. Miss. I'se goo and 
 look ta beans. Measter must want zummet t' 
 eat. Miss be a temper zure enough, but 'tis soon 
 owver. Dang themmy letters! If so be no- 
 body didn't larn to write, oone shouldn't be 
 werrited zoo."
 
 246 NOTHINa VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 lachlan's letters. 
 
 "Sunley, Nov. 2,18— . 
 
 " Dear Miss Eagles, 
 
 " I am in receipt of your kind letter, and 
 half of a Bank of England note for 10^., No. 
 2560. Will you be good enough to offer my 
 best thanks for it to the gentlemen who sent it 
 to me? I shall hope to buy the books on 
 engineering as soon as I have an opportunity, 
 and am very grateful to those who enable me to 
 do so. As you require an immediate answer, 
 you will, I hope, excuse a short letter. I am 
 very much obliged to you for yours, and will 
 endeavour to attend to all you say in it. I was 
 very glad to find that Mr. Raven does not dis- 
 approve of my Sunday readings, and that Mr. 
 Eagles recommends me to repeat my lectures. 
 
 " I had begun them when your letter arrived. 
 I had told my friend Stern of my attempts at
 
 lachlan's letters. 247 
 
 Yeo, and he mentioned the subject to my fellow- 
 workmen, who all came in a body to ask me to 
 go through them again. 
 
 "Having got used to these men and their 
 ways, T was not nervous, as I was at Yeo, so I 
 promised at once, and set to work to improve 
 and enlarge the notes I have with me. 
 
 " We hired a large barn, and there, after work, 
 I have repeated the first three lectures with 
 ' unparalleled success,' as the papers say. Many 
 of the country people round have attended, at 
 the particular request of our landlady, who is 
 proud, it seems, to have so unusual a character 
 as a navvy lecturer in her cottage. 
 
 " Tell Mr. Eagles that I find my words and 
 ideas flow much more readily amongst these 
 unlearned men than I did in my grander lecture- 
 room in your village. 
 
 " The men come up and shake hands with me 
 with all their hearts, slap me on the back with 
 all their might, and pay me wonderful compli- 
 ments. Now we fully understand one another, 
 and I find that the navvies are much the same 
 sort of people at bottom as the Australian emi- 
 grant or the Dorsetshire labourer, only perhaps 
 more alive to improvement than either. 
 
 " I am particularly requested to give a lecture 
 on my private history; but this I decline. I
 
 248 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 am not quite sure that the pride of the Manor 
 would brook a navvy connection ; and I am sure 
 the baronetcy would sufifer. 
 
 " I have heard no more of Mr. Markman. We 
 shall soon have completed this part of the line, 
 and I shall hope to get work on another. The 
 pay is not bad, and a sober man may live very 
 well upon it, and save against winter or a rainy 
 day. But few of these men are sober. It is, 
 however, some satisfaction to me to find, that 
 weak as my endeavours are, they keep them, for 
 the time at least, from drunkenness, and give 
 them an interest in self-improvement. A clever 
 practical man might do much for them, though I 
 believe they listen to me with all the greater 
 pleasure, because I am one of themselves, and 
 wear a smock frock. 
 
 "But I feel years older during the nine months 
 I have been at this work. 
 
 " I picked up a copy of Shakspeare the other 
 night at Sunley, cheap. I never read the plays 
 before, and you can imagine with what wonder 
 and admiration I am filled. I can't help quot- 
 ing them in my lectures ; and some night I mean 
 to read out one to my friends. Stern says I am 
 going play mad, and shall turn strolling player, 
 which all young men of my sort do. 1 ask him 
 of what sort I am, and he shakes his head.
 
 lachlan's letters. 249 
 
 ''Poor fellow! his congh makes him very 
 weak, and I have been obliged to work for two 
 the last week. 
 
 "Will you give my best respects to Mr. 
 Eagles, and my duty and love at the ' Farms ?' 
 I hope Mrs. and Miss Eambully are well. 
 
 "Again thanking you and the Mr. Bats, I 
 remain, 
 
 "Dear Miss Eagles, 
 
 " Your greatly obliged, 
 
 " Lachlax Lyons." 
 
 Some months after the receipt of the preceding 
 letter, Kern Lyons received the following : — 
 
 " Sunley, April 4, 18—. 
 
 " My dear Cousin, 
 
 " I ought to have written to you, in 
 answer to your letter, long ago, but I had 
 nothing to write about. Now that this branch of 
 the line is finished and opened, and I am idle for 
 the present, I must try to make you a proper 
 return for your letter. 
 
 " It reached me on Christmas Day, and 
 cheered me more than I can possibly tell you. 
 I saw all Yeo at a glance, from my great-aunts' 
 big bonnets to Miss Love's ringlets. I burst 
 out laughing so heartily that poor Stern begged
 
 250 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 me to read the letter to him ; and I did, and he 
 laughed too. He was ill in bed, and I ate my 
 bit of Christmas dinner at his bedside. It was 
 not a 'merry Christmas,' like the previous one 
 at Yeo ; but your letter was a sunbeam. 
 
 " I am very glad to hear that Matthew is 
 getting on in Australia. I thought he would. 
 He is doing more there than I am here, for I am 
 at a standstill — I ' stand and wait.' 
 
 " Also, will you wish George and Mima joy 
 of their son and heir for me ? I dare say he is 
 quite as handsome as you make him out to be. 
 How does ' Squoire Low ' like having a baby ? 
 
 " I hope Mr. Oliver Bat is returned from his 
 travels. You seem quite to regret his absence. 
 I am afraid I shall not have a very satisfactory 
 account to give him of the ten pounds. 
 
 "But I must go back and relate my adven- 
 tures since I received that generous gift. 
 
 " My last letter to Miss Eagles was in Novem- 
 ber. I went on working and lecturing, reading 
 and teaching writing nearly all the winter. I 
 enjoyed it very well whilst the work lasted ; but 
 it grew slack from bad weather, and there came 
 a sort of strike, owing to a failure of one of the 
 contractors. 
 
 " The paymaster had hard work to keep his 
 head on his shoulders, because, for some weeks,
 
 lachlan's letters. 251 
 
 he had no money to pay. Nothing but tickets 
 for food or drink, which the men didn't like, 
 and which the shopkeepers dishonoured. 
 
 " I believe I was the means of stopping a riot 
 by a real extempore lecture. I don't know how 
 it came into my head, but a sermon I preached, 
 and my hearers so far attended as to say, ' the 
 chap's right, and the agent ain't got nothen' to 
 do wi' it,' and so we subsided at last. The con- 
 tractor got through his difficulties; the weather 
 improved; work began again; and part of the 
 arrears was paid. 
 
 " But my ten pounds were gone, as you may 
 suppose. I couldn't keep it in my pocket, or 
 think of engineering books, when Stern was ill 
 in bed, and half my companions starving. I am 
 sure I thanked the Mr. Bats for their gift a 
 thousand times. It was the means of gaining 
 me a hearing when the men were going to mob 
 the paymaster — for if I had not helped some of 
 them, they would not have listened — and it also 
 enabled me to give poor Stern a helping hand 
 during his illness. 
 
 *' But I must try to tell my story regularly. 
 
 " During one of my lectures — that one upon the 
 habits of the natives, that you liked the best — 
 Mr. Markman came to the lodging of one of the 
 men ostensibly to make some inquiries about a
 
 252 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 bridge that was beginning to sink. The man was 
 in the lecture-room, alias barn, and the woman 
 of the cottage directed Mr. Markman thither. 
 
 " Fortunately for me, I did not see him come 
 in. How should I ? We had only two farthing 
 candles at the top of the room, and all the bottom 
 of it was dark. So I went on talking and they 
 listening. T flatter myself I was eloquent, for 
 the men applauded with all their might, and I 
 quoted Shakspeare with all mine. 
 
 " After I had finished, Mr. Markman came np 
 to me, and began to ask me a great many ques- 
 tions. I was frightened at first, but I remembered 
 that here was a chance of rising in the world, 
 and answered him as well as I could. 
 
 " I think he doubted the truth of a great deal 
 that I said, but he told me that having heard 
 of my lectures, he had come to listen to them. 
 
 "Then Mr. Markman asked me some questions 
 about the railway bridge that was in progress, 
 and begged any man present to say what he 
 thought of it. 
 
 " I knew very well that there was an error in 
 the original plan, but did not like to say so. 
 However, Stern said that I had been studying 
 it, and drawing it, and planning it for some 
 weeks. Mr. Markman proposed going to our 
 lodgings to see the plans, and went accordingly.
 
 lachlan's letters. 253 
 
 " 'Your fortune's made, now,' said Stern, and 
 so I thought in my vanity. 
 
 " Mr. Markman looked over all my labours, and 
 praised some of them. I saw he was very cau- 
 tious, and, from one or two of his observations, 
 found that he did not think my plans were ori- 
 ginal. He liked the maps the best. I was greatly 
 elated when he began to talk to me, but was as 
 much pulled down before he left. However, he 
 told Stern that he should not forget me if he had 
 an opportunity of helping me ; and this was 
 something. 
 
 " The next day he came again, and took me 
 with him to the bridge. You would not under- 
 stand, were I to tell you, how an iron suspension 
 bridge may sink after it has been put up ; but 
 there had been mismanagement here, and any one 
 but the sort of pig-headed fellow Parker is, 
 would have seen it. I told Mr. Markman what 
 I thought about it, and he thanked me, and said 
 I was right. 
 
 " Orders were given to alter the bridge, and 
 from that day I could see that Parker hated me, 
 and did all he could to get rid of me. 
 
 " I heard no more of Mr. Markman, and, indeed, 
 soon forgot all about him in my anxiety for my 
 poor friend Stern. 
 
 " About a week before Christmas he was regu-
 
 254 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 larly taken down : he had been ailing for a long 
 time. He had rheumatic fever, and it was no 
 good to struggle against it. Luckily, he had 
 saved some money during the autumn, and so had 
 I, and I got him a doctor and the necessary 
 remedies. But his attack was so severe, that he 
 is not yet able to work, though he is, I am thank- 
 ful to say, getting better. He has had a hard 
 struggle for life, and nearly three months of suf- 
 fering. 
 
 " And whilst he was so ill, came the strike I 
 mentioned before. My savings and the ten 
 pounds soon went, as you may suppose. 
 
 " Stern suggested my trying the lectures at 
 Sunley, at sixpence a head. I took courage, and 
 went to the town, and interested a printer there, 
 who not only printed me some large bills for a 
 trifle, but managed to get me a room free of ex- 
 pense. He put my bills about the town, which 
 announced : ' Lectures on Australia ; by a native 
 and a navvy.' 
 
 " They took wonderfully, and I cleared enough 
 money, in spite of my smock frock^ to keep Stern 
 and myself, and to do something for others, till 
 matters righted, and work began again. 
 
 " 1 saw that Parker was trying to find an excuse 
 to get rid of me, upon plea of having too many 
 hands, but I civilly pointed out to him that Stern
 
 LACHLANS LETTERS. 255 
 
 was dependent on me till he got better, and he 
 let me work on, snubbing me whenever he could. 
 
 " But last Saturday this branch of the line was 
 finally completed, and as they do not mean to 
 carry it on further at present, we navvies were 
 paid and dismissed. There is more work farther 
 on, but Stern is not yet in a condition to move, 
 and I cannot leave him. The doctor says he 
 may be able to get away next week, when we 
 propose looking for work. 
 
 "All the navvies, without an exception, were 
 kind to us, and before they went away they made 
 a little collection amongst themselves, which 
 amounted to three pounds, and insisted on giving 
 it to me, as a return for my lectures and lessons. 
 
 " I spent five shillings of it on a copy of Burns' 
 Poems, in remembrance of the givers, and the 
 rest is keeping Stern and myself. 
 
 " I think we both of us nearly cried when it was 
 all over, and I began to feel very lonely. But it 
 has done me good to write to you, and to feel 
 that I have friends who will sympathize with 
 me. I thought I should be a Whittington before 
 this, and here I am just where I began. No : 
 for I have lived and kept myself one twelvemonth, 
 and learnt something. I shall not write again 
 until I am either better or worse off.
 
 256 NOTHING VENTUKE, NOTHINO HAVE. 
 
 *' I do not lose hope for a moment. I shall get 
 up the ladder yet. I feel confident of it : only 
 sometimes, in spite of oneself, one desponds a 
 little. If I had been Parker, and he me, I am 
 sure I should have helped him. 
 
 ^'I have followed your example, and crossed 
 this with red ink. I made out every word of 
 your letter, your writing is so clear. You will 
 be such an accomplished young lady soon, that 
 you will despise your navvy cousin. I hope 
 Mrs. and Miss Rambully are well, and still at 
 the Downs. I think they are the only people 
 you do not mention. 
 
 '^ I sometimes wish I had never left Yeo ; but 
 I could not have got on in life there, and now I 
 am, at least, on the railroad to fame. 
 
 *' With kind love to all, believe me to remain, 
 *'My dear Kern, 
 
 ^' Your affectionate cousin, 
 
 " Lachlan Lyons." 
 
 About a month after Kern received this letter, 
 Mr. Raven went to the Manor with one he had 
 received concerning Lachlan, which was the cause 
 of much conjecture and consultation. It was as 
 follows : —
 
 lachlan's letters. 257 
 
 Great George Street, Westminster, 
 
 " May 3, 18—. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " Some months ago I fell in with a young- 
 man of the name of Lyons, a navvy on the Sunley 
 and Marketon Line. Sudden and unexpected 
 business called me abroad immediately after- 
 wards, and prevented my then making the in- 
 quiries I now take the liberty of making of you. 
 In the course of conversation, he told me that he 
 had come from Australia to a village called Yeo, 
 in Dorsetshire, where his uncle lived ; and doubt- 
 less, as the clergyman of the place, you can 
 obtain for me, from his relations, his present 
 address. I find he has left Sunley, and the 
 people at whose house he lodged do not know 
 where he now is. 
 
 " He appeared to me to be a young man of 
 parts, and if I could ascertain from you that he 
 has not left his relations on account of ill con- 
 duct, I might be of some service to him. 
 
 " I heard a very high character of him from 
 some of the men with whom he worked, and the 
 navvies are not apt to give praise where it is not 
 due. What I saw of him myself was also in his 
 favour. And I am told that he nursed and sup- 
 ported a fellow navvy, who was ill, for some 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 NOTHINa VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 months. But his position puzzled me, for he 
 seemed superior to it. 
 
 '* An early answer will greatly oblige, 
 "Dear Sir, 
 
 " Yours faithfully, 
 
 " William Makkman." 
 
 Of course no satisfactory reply could be made 
 to this letter. Mr. Raven could only say that 
 Lachlan's relations were as ignorant of his ad- 
 dress as was Mr. Mark man, but would communi- 
 cate with that gentleman as soon as they knew it 
 themselves. He satisfied Mr. Markman concern- 
 ing Lachlan s respectability and steadiness, and 
 hoped that the time would come when his kind 
 intentions might be carried out. 
 
 But months after months rolled on, and no 
 news came of the wanderer.
 
 259 
 
 CHAPTEH XYIII. 
 
 OUR HEROINES. 
 
 " Well, Miss Aline, I don't know what we shall 
 do with your mamma, if she continues so restless 
 and irritable," said Fluke one morning when she 
 and Aline were alone together. 
 
 Aline sighed. 
 
 " If she would only go to church, I am sure she 
 would be calmer." 
 
 " She 'asn't been haulf so well since she has 
 taken so to Kern Lyons. I caunt bear that girl. 
 I wish she had never come to learn with you." 
 
 " She is so clever and amusing, Fluke, that I 
 don't wonder at mamma's liking her. She makes 
 her forget her troubles, and her bad sight, and 
 diverts her very much. Nobody knows how to 
 make her laugh but Kern." 
 
 " Yes ; that's true enough. She turns every- 
 body into ridicule till she would make a cat 
 laugh. I laughed at myself the other day, when
 
 260 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 I went into the room suddenly, and heard her 
 mimicking me. I dare say I'm cockney enough, 
 but she made me fifty times worse than I am/' 
 
 '' You didn't mind it. Fluke, I hope T' 
 
 " Well, one don't like to be made game of to 
 one's own mistress. I didn't care about Kern, 
 but I did care that your mamma should allow 
 her to do it." 
 
 ** I wish mamma, or you. Fluke, would tell 
 
 me why all this secrecy is necessary. I am 
 
 nearly sixteen, and know nothing of my own 
 
 father, except what I remember as a child of four 
 
 ' or five years old." 
 
 " You know, Miss Aline, that I never saw him, 
 and that your mamma has promised to tell you 
 everything when you are of age. But I believe 
 it would make her blind again if she went through 
 that old story." 
 
 *' But, Fluke, slie is tired to death of this life. 
 I am sure she must have relations who would be 
 glad to see her. Why am I not to know who 
 gave me the pony and that beautiful piano ?" 
 
 "For Kern Lyons to play upon," growled 
 Fluke. "She gets all the profit out of Miss 
 Eagles." 
 
 " But that is my fault because I am not clever.'* 
 
 " You know. Miss Aline, you could play and 
 sing as well as anybody if you chose."
 
 OUR HEROINES. 261 
 
 *'And give up walking and riding, and 
 amusing mamma. Music and singing are not 
 worth that." 
 
 '^ And a pretty tomboy you are, rioting about 
 all over the Downs and fields, with that old dog 
 after you ; or, if you ain't rioting, teaching those 
 dull children, or reading and talking to that 
 crabbed, bed-ridden, old Sally." 
 
 " For shame. Fluke ! I wish you wouldn't 
 say such things. I know you don't mean them. 
 But why will you not tell me about my father ? 
 Perhaps I might comfort mamma. At least say 
 whether he is alive or dead." 
 
 " You are so odd. Miss Aline ! You always 
 take up with low people. There's Mr. Bull, a 
 very good sort of man, but not the man for you 
 to call daddy now you are nearl}^ grown up. 
 And that Lachlan Lyons, you were as fond of him 
 as if he was your brother, and are just as anxious 
 about his letters as Kern, and more so, indeed." 
 
 ''Of course I am anxious, Fluke. He was 
 very nice and very kind to me. And he is an 
 orphan, and had no one to care for him. I am 
 quite sure that there is no one in the world I 
 should be so glad to see as Lachlan. I wish he 
 would write again. It is a long time since he 
 wrote that last melancholy letter, and nobody 
 knows where he is."
 
 262 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HA YE. 
 
 " A navvy ! and you are " 
 
 " Who am I, Fluke ? If you were to tell me 
 — but if I were a queen that is no reason why I 
 should not like Lachlan." 
 
 " Now do go and practice, Miss Aline. You 
 can be scribbling nonsense drawings over all your 
 books, and spoiling them, but you won't practice, 
 and all your friends so musical ! And you with 
 such a pretty voice ! Why, you can sing well 
 enough to that 'orrid old Jack, or to the birds in 
 the bower." 
 
 '^ You should hear me on the Downs, Fluke. 
 You would admire my voice. The larks and I 
 see which can sing the loudest. Oh, Fluke ! I 
 heard such a lark this morning ! Now you must 
 listen, for mamma gets tired when I talk too 
 much of larks. The pou}^ stood quite still — a 
 thing he never does — and I am sure he liked the 
 music. I saw the lark rise, and hover and poise 
 and float, up, up, always higher and higher. I 
 watched him till he became a little speck in the 
 great distance, and then I lost sight of him in the 
 clear blue sky. But still that wonderful song 
 went on. I am sure he must almost have reached 
 heaven, but every note was heard down here. I 
 do not believe the songs of angels could be 
 clearer. And it made me so happy. Fluke. I 
 thought if the bird could fly so far, and warble so
 
 OUR HEROINES. 263 
 
 beautifully up so high, that heaven could not be 
 so hard to reach for us all. Poor mamma will 
 have her sight there, Fluke, and perhaps I may 
 see my papa." 
 
 " Eeally, Miss Aline, you do talk such a lot of 
 nonsense, that it is no wonder your mamma gets 
 tired, and likes to hear Kern's gossip about those 
 Yeo people." 
 
 " You are very rude and provoking, Fluke. I 
 am sure one may just as well talk of the birds, 
 and the sky, and the flowers, as of all those stupid 
 people that we know nothing about. But I won't 
 tell 3^ou of any more beautiful things, you may be 
 sure." 
 
 " Yes, yes, you will, my darling. There, kiss 
 your poor old Fluke, and I will try to listen 
 patiently to all your wonderful fancies." 
 
 " You are very obliging. Fluke," said Aline, 
 laughing, ''but I won't trouble you." 
 
 " There ! I hear Miss Eagles ! You 'ave been 
 tearing about all this morning, and 'av'nt learnt 
 your lessons, or practised. I wonder whether all 
 your larks will teach you that sum you 'ad 
 to do!" 
 
 *' Do go to mamma. Fluke. You are so pro- 
 voking. What can be the use of sums ? I am 
 sure I shall never want them." 
 
 Fluke went to Madam Eambully, at the sum-
 
 264 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 mons of her bell, and Aline to Miss Eagles and 
 Kern, who were waiting for her below. 
 
 Madam Rambully was in her bed-room. She 
 was sitting in an easy chair, by the open window. 
 Her long fair hair was hanging loose on her white 
 dressing gown, waiting for Fluke's skilful fingers 
 to plait it into its usual neat braid. The large 
 shade was removed from her eves, which were 
 fixed on the Downs. The redness had disap- 
 peared from the lids, and the pupils were of a 
 clearer white than when she first came to the 
 farm. She fancied that she sometimes saw an 
 object indistinctly. 
 
 " Fluke/' she began, " I cannot bear this kind 
 of life any more. At all risks I must change it." 
 
 "Yery well, my lady," said Fluke. '*You 
 know you can do it directly. Your aunt said in 
 her last letter that she should be very glad to see 
 you and Miss Aline, and to send Miss Aline to 
 school, provided " 
 
 " Provided ! How can I provide against that, 
 Fluke ! You know that were I again with anyone 
 belonging to me, he would be sure to find me out. 
 And then I should be worried and tormented to 
 death. Even this life is better than that would be." 
 
 " And Miss Aline, my lady ? Is she to be shut 
 up in this place all her life ?" 
 
 " Aline seems quite happy ; I do not see that
 
 OUR HEROINES. 265 
 
 she wishes for anything beyond her pets, and 
 the farmers, and the poor. She is a strange gM. 
 I wish she were more clever and amusing. She 
 has not half the talent of Kern, and her manners 
 are not as good, Kern's manners are perfect." 
 
 " Laws, my lady, she is as affected as a peacock, 
 and just apes your manners ; while Miss Aline is 
 a lady by nature. Everybody says that she is 
 the sweetest dear in the world." 
 
 "Everybody! All the farmers and their 
 wives. I tell you, Fluke — and I beg you will 
 not contradict me — that Kern's manners and 
 talents are as superior to Aline's as possible." 
 
 " Well, my lady, I ave no objection, I am 
 sure, if you wish it. But / prefer Miss Aline to 
 that Kern Lyons^ that's all I can say." 
 
 '' Have the 3'oung ladies nearly done. Fluke ? 
 I should like to see Kern before she goes. She 
 can come up here. Go and tell her so." 
 
 " Ladies, indeed !" muttered Fluke, as she left 
 her mistress to deliver her message. 
 
 The parlour was a very different room at that 
 period from what it was when Madam Rambully 
 first came to the farm, neat and pretty as it was 
 then. It was now handsomely furnished with a 
 new carpet, easy chair, sofa, piano, pictures, orna- 
 ments — in short, everything that could add to 
 the comfort of its invalid inmate.
 
 2(36 NOTHma venture, nothing have. 
 
 When Fluke entered it, Miss Eagles, Aline, 
 and Kern were at their studies. She gave the 
 message to Kern, who, without glancing up from 
 a German book she was reading, said, '^^ery 
 well. Fluke," which simple words, Fluke scornfully 
 repeated as she left the room. 
 
 As the two young girls were fast growing up 
 into women, it may be well to describe them as 
 they sat, on that bright June da}^, in the little 
 parlour. They were seated on either side of 
 Miss Eagles, who looked pale and thin, and by 
 the help of dictionaries, were translating Schiller's 
 '* Maria Stuart T 
 
 As Kern Lyons bent over her book, or occa- 
 sionally looked up at Miss Eagles to obtain the 
 more accurate rendering of a passage, 3^ou must 
 perforce Avatch her. Perfect beauty is a rare 
 gift, and that rare gift she possessed. Aline used 
 to say of her, that she must have had a fairy 
 godmother, who endowed her with every personal 
 attraction. 
 
 She was seventeen, more than a year older 
 than Aline, and much more than a year her 
 senior in appearance and manners. Her com- 
 plexion was so fair that the large white rose then 
 looking in at the open window was not fairer ; 
 and her hair was of such a golden brown, that 
 the sunbeam rested upon it, as if it were come
 
 OUR HEROINES. 267 
 
 home to its twin brother. Long ringlets fell over 
 her neck and shoulders, brushed as smoothly as 
 if they had never been ruffled, and rested against 
 a cheek, slightly flushed with a pink colour. 
 
 The features were Grecian. Nobody could find 
 a fault with their classic outline, try as they 
 would — and everybody did try, except, perhaps, 
 Aline, who loved beauty in every thing, because it 
 was beauty. The eyes were of the blue of those 
 skies, that, like the rose, looked in upon the trio, and 
 were quite as unfathomable. You watched them 
 — you watched Kern — hour after hour — you never 
 knew what was in her mind, or whether siie meant 
 what she was saying to you. You asked yourself 
 Avhat was the expression of the girl's countenance, 
 or had she any ? Yes, sometimes. What w^as it ? 
 Scorn. Occasionally a turn of the mouth, and a 
 contraction of the short upper lip expressed un- 
 utterable scorn. 
 
 Her figure was as graceful as her face was beau- 
 tiful ; and, as Madam Rambully justly said, her 
 manners were as ladylike as if the blood of all 
 those ancient Lyons, baronets, she loved to think 
 of, had centred in her, and flowed through all her 
 veins. 
 
 Talents, too, she had, of no ordinary kind, and 
 ambition and perseverance to use them. Miss 
 Eagles had thoroughly enjoyed those four years
 
 268 NOTHINa VENTURE, NOTHINa HAVE. 
 
 that she had spent in teaching her and Aline, at 
 least the hours she had passed at the Downs. 
 She was proud of Kern, and she loved Aline. 
 
 And now we will turn to Aline. At first 
 there does not seem to be so much to say of the 
 simple, childish-looking girl, in her white frilled 
 pinafore, for she still wore a pinafore, either 
 from choice or because she was used to it. But 
 when you examined the face, and looked into the 
 large, soft, hazel eyes, you wondered whence the 
 attraction came that drew your love out of you 
 and into the power of Aline. It was not beauty, 
 though she was not deficient in beauty of feature, 
 and possessed eminently the subtler beauty of 
 expression. It was not talent — though there 
 were the springs of a rare genius within her — but 
 it was love. Aline loved every creature that 
 drew breath, and hard-hearted must have been 
 the individual who did not love her in return. 
 It was love that beamed from the tender eyes : 
 love that smiled in the sweet mouth : love that 
 dimpled the sunburnt cheek : love that trembled 
 in the delicate fingers ever seeking some kindred 
 fingers : love that moved in the light step : and 
 love that thrilled in the low, gentle voice. 
 
 Not a mawkish sentimental love, but the noble 
 instinct of a noble nature, that had never de- 
 ceived or been deceived.
 
 OUR HEROINES. 269 
 
 At that moment she sat with one elbow on the 
 table, and her head resting on her hand. Two 
 large tears were slowly rolling down her face, 
 and her lips quivered with emotion. Her eyes 
 were fixed on Kern's bended head, as she leaned 
 over her book, and read with fluency the farewell 
 of Mary Stuart to her attendants, in the last act 
 of Schiller's beautiful drama. 
 
 From the first words of the speech in which 
 Mary divides her possessions amongst her friends 
 to her last : 
 
 " Lebt w-olil ! Lebt wolil ! lebt ewig wobl !"* 
 
 Aline was breathless. When Kern uttered the 
 last "Lehtwohl,'' with an emphasis she knew 
 well how to give — for she might have made a 
 fine actress — Aline fairly cried. 
 
 Kern looked up and smiled. " It all happened 
 so long ago, Aline," she said, while Miss Eagles 
 pressed the hand that held hers, and passed her 
 other hand across her own moistened eyes. 
 *' How can you cry now, when, under any circum- 
 stances, she must have been dead and buried 
 nearly three hundred years ? I suppose it does 
 not much matter now whether she was beheaded 
 or died in her bed." 
 
 " Oh, Kern !" said Aline. "• But there is some 
 
 * " Farewell ! farewell ! eternally farewell !"
 
 270 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 comfort in thinking that she spoke the truth when 
 she said : — 
 
 " Ich. bin viel 
 Gehasset worden docli audi viel geliebt."* 
 
 *' Why should such a woman be * hated,' Miss 
 Eagles, when she was born to be so 'loved'? 
 Why was her beauty a curse instead of a bless- 
 ing?" 
 
 *' Like all our misused gifts, I suppose, Aline," 
 said Miss Eagles. 
 
 "I should like to have been Mary Stuart," 
 said Kern, quietly, " better than any woman I 
 ever read of. She made all men love her, and 
 all women jealous of her, even Elizabeth." 
 
 "I think you are like the pictures of Mary 
 Stuart, Kern," said Aline. 
 
 Kern glanced up proudly. Miss Eagles frowned. 
 
 " Aline, you flatter Kern," she said. 
 
 '' I know my own face. Miss Eagles, and the 
 pictures Aline alludes to," said Kern, gravely. 
 
 "It is well to know ourselves," said Miss 
 Eagles. " Perhaps had Mary known herself she 
 would not have been so unfortunate." 
 
 " JDoch audi viel geliebt^'' murmured Aline, as if 
 she were singing it. 
 
 * " I have been 
 Much hated but still very much beloved."
 
 Otm HEROINES. 271 
 
 '' It seems easy enough to know oneself," said 
 Kern, *' the difiQculty is to know other people." 
 
 Fluke appeared at the door. ^' If you have 
 finished, Miss Kern, my lady is ready for you," 
 she said. 
 
 " Very well, Fluke, I will come. May I go, 
 Miss Eagles ?" 
 
 " Yes, Kern. But one word first. You are 
 going to London next week. It will be a new 
 world. Do not carry out your just expressed 
 wish. There is nothing gained, either in queenly 
 or private life, by making all men love you and 
 all women hate you." 
 
 " Only * jealous' of me ! If I could carry it out 
 they should not know that I wished it. Miss 
 Eagles. But it is only a facon de parler, to dry 
 Aline's eyes. My uncle and aunt will be very 
 safe people. Oh ! I am so thankful to be going 
 away from this place to a civilized part of the 
 world." 
 
 Miss Eagles could not find any more philo- 
 sophy to throw at Kern. She, too, so ardently 
 longed to go away from Yeo, and cared so little 
 whether people in general loved or hated her, 
 that she had only too much sympathy with the 
 girl herself. 
 
 ^*Do go to mamma, Kern, she will be im- 
 patient," said Aline.
 
 272 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 Kern went. 
 
 '' Perhaps wlien Kern is gone, I shall be able 
 to amuse mamma again," said Aline, thoughtfully. 
 
 " I dare say you will, Aline. When was it 
 settled for her to go ?" 
 
 " I believe Dr. and Mrs. Dove wrote again 
 last week to invite her — she is their god- 
 daughter, 3^ou know — and her father consented. 
 Do you not think she will be very much ad- 
 mired ?" 
 
 " She must be, Aline. But why do you con- 
 stantly tell her how beautiful she is ?" 
 
 " I cannot help it. I always feel inclined to 
 praise everything that is lovely. I cannot help 
 talking to the hills and fields when the sun 
 shines upon them ; or to the moon when she 
 looks at me of a clear night. It seems so very 
 natural to praise what one admires." 
 
 " To you, Aline," sighed Miss Eagles. " I 
 wish we were all more natural than we are. I 
 am afraid it is an artificial world. Even here 
 in this lovely quiet valley, people are not what 
 God intended them to be." 
 
 '' Then I am very glad I do not know them," 
 said Aline. " Daddy and granny and all the 
 farm people always say just what they mean, 
 and Mr. and Miss Eaven are perfectly truthful, 
 I think. So are the Lows and the Lyons, except,
 
 OUR HEROINES. 273 
 
 perhaps, Kern, who likes to puzzle one ; and I am 
 sure Mr. Oliver Bat is sincere. I wonder when 
 he will come back ! Kern says he is in Italy 
 now, and has been travelling all over the con- 
 tinent." 
 
 " How does she know ?" asked Miss Eagles. 
 
 " Mr. Bat told her so. Every one tells Kern 
 everything. She has a way of listening, and 
 being interested, and putting questions that do not 
 seem questions, which draw out people's secrets. 
 I believe she knows more of my history from 
 mamma than I know myself. I wish I had some 
 of her power." 
 
 *' You need not wish it, Aline. Your influence 
 for good may be greater than Kern's." 
 
 "Oh! I am 'not jealous, dear Miss Eagles. 
 As Kern is with mamma, I will put on my bon- 
 net, and walk over the Downs with you." 
 
 As Aline left the room, there was a great up- 
 roar in the passage. Max was waiting at the 
 door, and began to bark and frisk emphati- 
 cally; Jack shrieked in his cage at the sound 
 of her voice, and the old sheep dog made an 
 effort at gaiety. The trio accompanied her and 
 Miss Eagles up the hill, and as the breeze blew 
 the long curtain of her white poke-bonnet and 
 the corner of the pinafore, she looked but a 
 child, surrounded by her playfellows. 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 When she returned from the Downs, she went 
 direct to a large hay-field, and raked the tangled 
 hay by the side of her daddy, with all the spirit 
 of a professed haymaker. She continued her 
 work until she saw Kern leave the farm, when 
 she went to her mother, accompanied, as usual, 
 by Fluke's reproaches, which were replied to by 
 Mrs. Bull, as follows : 
 
 " Dear heart ! Let her enjoy her innocent 
 pleasures while she can, Mrs. Fluke. Her time 
 of trouble will come. I saw her dancing in a 
 viary-ring the other day, like a viary herself. 
 And sure she needs the viaries to be kind to her, 
 with her poor, sickly, irritable mamma, and you 
 always so t'iart with her. But I believe yours is 
 more in the mouth than the heart."
 
 275 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE SQUOIRE. 
 
 Shortly after Kern Lyons went to London, news 
 once more arrived at Yeo of Lachlan, which 
 were immediately forwarded by Mr. Raven to Mr. 
 Markman. His letter this time was to George 
 Low, who, on hearing his last epistle read, had 
 written to him to invite him and Stern to Brook- 
 lands. 
 
 Lachlan's long-a-coming reply was as follows :— 
 
 " Newcastle-upon-Tyne, 
 
 " June 29th, 18—. 
 
 "My dear Cousin George — 
 
 " I was not the less obliged to you for your 
 kind and honest wish to see Stern and me, because 
 I took you at your word and did not write. I 
 knew you meant what you said, and was thank- 
 ful to have such a good friend to turn to in time 
 of need. Stern begs me to thank you for him as 
 well as for myself, which I do with all my heart.
 
 276 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 "He is very well now, and we have been 
 together ever since I wrote last, nearly a twelve- 
 month ago. 
 
 " You will all be as disappointed as I am when 
 you hear that I have not made my fortune yet, 
 nor even got upon the road to it ; though I have 
 tramped over plenty of high roads, and worked 
 upon more than one railroad, since I parted from 
 you. But I am not ' muopen-like,' as you used 
 to be about cousin Mima: on the contrary, I 
 have enjoyed my travels very much. 
 
 ''I know you hate long letters, so I am not 
 going to give you a history of my last year. I 
 shall only tell you, that somehow or other my 
 lectures have carried me from place to place one 
 half of the year, and work as a navvy has kept 
 me the other half. Stern has worked with me 
 and for me, and together we have seen something 
 of life, and a good deal of England, which is a 
 beautiful country. I scarcely know whether I 
 like the South or the North best, but you will see 
 by my address that I have been at the two 
 extremes. 
 
 " Tell Mr. Eagles that I am getting bold — 
 perhaps too bold — as I get older ; but I have met 
 with so much encouragement amongst my fellow 
 navvies, and working men generally, that I have 
 ventured upon other lectures, of which I shall
 
 THE SQUOIRE. 277 
 
 hope to speak or write to him some day. I have 
 also been making geological surveys as we went 
 along, and drawing such maps as my knowledge 
 would allow me to do. 
 
 " Stern has a brother living at this place, with 
 whom we are now staying. He is as hospitable 
 as all the north country people seem to be. We 
 came here three days ago, and as I am to lecture 
 here, we shall remain nearly a fortnight, so I 
 hope some of you will write to me. 
 
 ''A great many people have emigrated, I am 
 told, from hearing the ' whipper-snapper,' as the 
 Yeo folk used to call me ; I only hope I haven't 
 done wrong in advising emigration. 
 
 ** Give my love to cousin Mima, and all my 
 friends at the Downs and Manor, and my best 
 respects to your father. How does he like having 
 a baby to nurse ? I suppose yours is a prodigy. 
 Be sure you make him learn the ^ capital cities,' &c. 
 " Believe me, 
 
 '' My dear George, 
 
 " Your affectionate cousin, 
 
 "Lachlan Lyons." 
 
 " Lo'k zee, Mima," said George Low, when he 
 had been puzzling over this letter for some time, 
 ''dang me if I can make out the chap's long 
 words. What does he call the baby ? "
 
 278 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 " A prodigy," said Mima, who came up to her 
 husband with a huge specimen of rosy babyhood 
 in her arms. " And so he is a prodigy." 
 
 ** Annan?" said a voice from the chimney 
 corner. 
 
 This was a favourite word of Low, senior, be- 
 cause it expressed, curtly, the question, "What 
 do you say ?" and demanded a repetition. 
 
 " Lachlan says baby is a prodigy, father- 
 law," said Mima, 
 
 " Stares like a gawk ! Eead "— puff— ^* letter " 
 — puff, puff. 
 
 Mima, justly offended, gave the baby to George, 
 and read the letter. 
 
 "Good lad ! very"— puff, puff—" Wish un well." 
 
 " Here's Kezia, and some o' the buoys, comen 
 up the road," said George. 
 
 Kezia shortly entered the hall, with Mark and 
 Luke at her heels. 
 
 "We've had a letter from Kern," she said. 
 
 "And we from Lachlan," said George. 
 
 " Hurrah !" shouted the boys. " Let's see 
 Lachlan's letter. He ain't dead and buried in his 
 own railroad then, as mother declares he is. Let's 
 have three cheers. Hip, hip hip, hurrah !" 
 
 " Hurrah !" echoed George, with stentorian 
 lungs, and " hurrah" joined the Squoire from his 
 corner.
 
 THE SQUOmE. 279 
 
 " There ! You've frightened baby and made 
 him cry," said Mima. " 'Tis you're the gawks I 
 think." 
 
 " Prodigy ! ho, ho," — pufif, puff — said Mr. 
 Low. 
 
 ^'Read Kern's letter, Kezia," said Mima. 
 
 ''No, Lachlan's first," cried the boys. 
 
 ''Pretty gwains on" — puff — ** Ladies first," — 
 puff, puff. 
 
 "See, father-law, Georgie's walking to you," 
 said Mima, leading her boy up to the Squoire. 
 
 "Come — granfer's cubby-hole," said that 
 worthy, laying down the pipe, and taking the 
 baby between his knees. 
 
 '*Now for Kern's letter," said George; and 
 Kezia read as follows : — 
 
 " Great George Street, Westminster, 
 
 " June 30tb, 18—. 
 
 "My dear Kezia — 
 
 " As I only gave mother an account of my 
 journey, in my first hurried letter, I must write 
 you the details of my adventures since. Not 
 that I have had many ' adventures.' Uncle and 
 aunt live quietly, yet they see a great many 
 people. You remember that I travelled from 
 Swindon, the place where the railway begins, 
 with a gentleman who was very polite to me.
 
 280 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHINa HAVE. 
 
 " I was sitting in the dining-room yesterday 
 morning, and to my astonishment, the same gen- 
 tleman was announced." 
 
 '' Hey !" broke in the Squoire. ''Grand ! ho ! 
 ho ! " 
 
 " Capital !" cried Mark. " Kern all over- 
 She used to tell Betty to announce people pro- 
 perly." 
 
 Kezia continued : 
 
 "He was as much surprised as I was, and 
 bowed very politely, and entered into conversa- 
 tion. My uncle came in shortly after, and took 
 him away to his study. He called him ' Sir 
 John,' and when he was gone, I heard that he was 
 no less a person than Sir John Nux ! Only fancy 
 my having met the Lord of the Manor, before 
 any of the Yeo dignities! He returned from 
 the continent last week, and came to consult 
 uncle professionally. Of course he does not know 
 who I am, or perhaps he would not be so very 
 polite. 
 
 " Uncle took me to the Opera last night, and 
 he was there. We were in the pit, but he waited 
 for us when we came out, and spoke to me. I wish 
 uncle had gone into the boxes. But he says they 
 are enormously dear. Sir John was in what they 
 call the pit-stalls. I saw that he recognized me. 
 The men stare in London as if they had never
 
 THE SQUOIRE. 281 
 
 seen a girl in their lives before. Aunt says, that 
 they always stare at girls who come up from 
 the country, and I long to assure her that I do 
 not consider myself countrified. She is rather 
 dowdy herself compared with others in her posi- 
 tion. We move in very good society." 
 
 " You're reading Kern's letter," said a voice 
 from the passage, and farmer Bull joined the 
 party. ** I hope she won't lose her head." 
 
 He went into the chimney corner, sat down 
 opposite the Squoire, took up a pipe, and began to 
 smoke. 
 
 "Baby will be smoke-dried between you/' 
 said Jemima. Baby was playing contentedly 
 with his grandfather's watch-chain and seals, un- 
 conscious of being in a cloud. 
 
 Kezia continued to read : 
 
 " I suppose you will like to know something 
 about the Opera, and what I wore. My uncle 
 would not let me put on a low dress, and my aunt 
 said I should not wear any flowers in my hair, so 
 I looked plain enough, amongst all the fashionable 
 people, in a high white muslin. But I had aunt's 
 beautiful opera cloak, which gave me some 
 style. 
 
 " Were I to describe the singing, acting, and 
 scenery, you would not understand my descrip- 
 tion — indeed you do not approve of plays —
 
 282 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 but this I must say, the tout ensemble was 
 enchantment. Lablache, Eubini, Tamburini, 
 Grisi— " 
 
 " Skripe them outlandish names, Kezia ; you 
 can't read 'em," said father Bull. 
 
 It must be confessed that Kezia was stumbling 
 sadly over them. 
 
 " Frogs ! Mounseers 1" puff, puff — ejaculated the 
 Squoire. 
 
 ''They are great singers," said Kezia, *'but 
 Kern says, that they sang wonderfully." 
 
 '* Jump over 'em," said George. 
 
 Kezia did so, and continued : 
 
 '' And whom else do you think I have seen ? 
 Bullying Bob, alias Ensign Love. He looks 
 better in regimentals than he used to look in 
 plain dress, and is quite a grand person. His 
 London manners are very diff'erent from his Yeo 
 manners, but he requires to be kept at a distance. 
 I saw him at a review in the Park, and he saw 
 me, came up and spoke to me, and called the 
 next morning. What would * Pa and Ma/ and 
 * Ringlets' say ? 
 
 " A review is a magnificent sight. I think the 
 finest thing I have yet seen are the statuesque 
 Horse Guards, close to us. I mean to marry a 
 soldier. An ofi&cer of course. 
 
 " Uncle is going to let me have some music
 
 THE SQUOIRE. 283 
 
 and singing lessons. I sang the other evening to 
 a party of old people, and one of them, who was 
 a singer, and quavered through a ballad, said I 
 had ' great capabilities,' and so they are to be cul- 
 tivated. 
 
 *' I can fancy all your remarks, and the general 
 comments of the family on this letter. 
 
 '* I see Mr. Markman's offices almost every 
 day, and fancy I must once have seen him. I 
 longed to speak to him, but uncle does not know 
 him. He is not acquainted with his next-door 
 neighbour, and Great George Street is longer 
 than all Yeo. Poor Lachlan ! I wish he were 
 with Mr. Markman. But not in his old coat, or 
 the smock-frock he speaks of. I could not pos- 
 sibly notice him in those, here." 
 
 '* There ! Shut up, Kezia," said George Low. 
 "Kern baint worthy to wipe Lachlan's shoes. 
 Sir John Nux, and Bullying Bob, and all them 
 fine Lunnon volk, be no more to our Lachlan than 
 chalk to cheese." 
 
 '' Right, boy," said the Squoire. 
 
 " Now give me the babby," said farmer Bull, 
 who had been vainly trying to entice the child 
 from his grandfather's seals. 
 
 " Child's a gawk !" said farmer Low, winking 
 at Jemima, in a very animated manner. 
 
 The two old men laid down their pipes, and
 
 284 NOTHINQ VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 each began to play with the baby, to the great 
 delight of George and Mima, and to the discomfi- 
 ture of Kezia, who still wanted to finish the 
 letter, which, however, contained nothing further, 
 beyond the usual complimentary concluding mes- 
 sages to friends. 
 
 " I have the greatest right in the baby," said 
 farmer Bull, " for I'm his great gran'fer. Give 
 'im to me, Squoire." 
 
 " Gran'fer, I be — " pufi*, pufi*, said farmer Low, 
 rattling his seals with one hand, and holding his 
 pipe with the other. 
 
 " Fair play ! fair play ! You let alone the 
 seals, and zee who he'll come to." 
 
 The rosy baby stood between the two old men, 
 resting its chubby hand on the Squoire's knee. 
 The pipes were being pufifed over his head, and 
 George and Jemima stood close by, in broad- 
 faced admiration. 
 
 ** Come to me, baby," said Kezia, running in 
 between, and kneeling down with open arms be- 
 fore this last bud of the family tree. 
 
 " What a row about that stupid baby !" cried 
 Mark and Luke ; " and father and mother's just as 
 bad. Give us Lachlan's letter, George." 
 
 George gave the letter. 
 
 "You'll come to the school treat to-morrow, 
 Mima," said Mark.
 
 THE SQUOIRE. 285 
 
 " Mr. Raven wishes every one to be present," 
 said Kezia. 
 
 " Grandfather, do you know whether Madam 
 Rambully will let Miss Aline come ?" 
 
 " She says she may go if Miss Eagles will go 
 with her." 
 
 "And Miss Eagles won't go," said Luke. 
 " She's more distant than ever." 
 
 " They say such strange things of her," said 
 Jemima. " I never liked her for my part." 
 
 " I am sure it is not true," said Kezia, indig- 
 nantly. 
 
 " She walks miles to meet her lover," said 
 Luke. " No wonder she wouldn't have Matthew." 
 
 " They say it is that grand gentleman that 
 used to be visiting at the Lodge," said Luke. 
 
 " Or — " began Mima. 
 
 " A mummock maybe," growled farmer Bull. 
 '* Hold your tongues, boys. No one shall speak 
 ill of Miss Eagles in my company." 
 
 " Thank you, grandfather," said Kezia. 
 
 " How's madam" — puff, puff ! asked theSquoire. 
 
 " Rambully, or Fluke ! flesh or fish ?" 
 
 '' Both "—puff. 
 
 " Madam Rambully's as bumptious as a sick 
 sheep, Mrs. Fluke's as spry as a cappled cow. 
 Fluke's a good sort of fish, Squoire !" 
 
 '' Ho, ho !" puff.
 
 286 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 " Don't be putting such nonsense into father- 
 law's head, granfather," whispered Mima. " We 
 don't want any Fluke here. We've trout enough 
 in our stream." 
 
 " But we can't catch 'em, Mima," said George. 
 
 " She's a queer fish, anyhow," said farmer Bull. 
 
 '* Keep a secret ?" puff, puff. 
 
 " Close as an oyster. Die rather than open 
 out. Roast her alive, or force her open, she 
 wouldn't tell." 
 
 *' Sensible woman " — puff; " only one in the 
 world — ho! ho !" 
 
 " When are you coming to propose ?" 
 
 The Squoire nodded his head, but did not 
 reply to this direct question. He had not made 
 up his mind. 
 
 And in this state of indecision we will leave 
 him for the present.
 
 287 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE LORD OF THE MANOR. 
 
 The annual Yeo school-feast took place in the 
 large field that formed part of the glebe land 
 belonging to the Yicarage. The hay had just 
 been carried, and the field was ready for every 
 sort of amusement. As all the parishioners sub- 
 scribed to give the feast, so the greater part of 
 them were present, some because they liked to 
 see the children enjoy themselves, some out of 
 compliment to Mr. Raven, and others because 
 they had nothing better to do. 
 
 Miss Eagles consented to take Aline, conse- 
 quently Aline helped the Raven children to help 
 the schoolchildren, and entered into her work 
 with all her heart, while Miss Eagles stood at a 
 distance, quite alone, watching them, or seeming 
 to watch. 
 
 In the midst of the feast, a general diversion
 
 288 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 was made by the appearance of five gentlemen. 
 These were the three Mr. Bats, Sir John Nux, 
 and Mr. Horsefall, his architect. 
 
 We cannot wonder at the start of surprise 
 made by almost all the assembly in the field at 
 so charming an apparition. 
 
 The schoolchildren started and curtseyed, till 
 they nearly overset their tea-cups ; the Yicar 
 started ofiP to welcome the comers ; his sister and 
 the other ladies started into their most fashionable 
 manners ; Miss Eagles, alone, started and turned 
 very pale, and Aline started to run direct to 
 Mr. Oliver Bat, but checked herself, and went on 
 helping the children. 
 
 " They came down yesterday evening,"said Mr. 
 Bat, senior, " and I brought them all off here to- 
 day." 
 
 " We thought you were abroad, Cousin Oliver," 
 said Miss Daw. 
 
 " So I was, until I fell in with Nux, and he 
 brought me home," replied Mr. Oliver. 
 
 "And he is going off again with me next 
 week," said Sir John, taking off his hat to Miss 
 Daw's large bonnet. 
 
 '*How you are altered, Sir John," said Miss 
 Margery. " So grown ! I should not have known 
 you." 
 
 " I was a boy when I left, and now I am three-
 
 THE LORD OF THE MAXOR. 289 
 
 and-twenty, Miss Daw. How d'ye do, Captain 
 Love ? I'm very glad to see you again." 
 
 '' Welcome home, Sir John," said the Captain. 
 " Allow me to introduce my daughter. You re- 
 member her ?" 
 
 '' Of course I do. We used to play together." 
 
 Sir John held out his hand, Margaret Anne 
 blushed and looked pleased, and Mrs. Love at 
 once elevated her into *'My Lady." 
 
 " I hope you are not going away again, Sir 
 John," she said, as that gentleman shook hands 
 with her ; " we can't afiford to lose you at Yeo. 
 The house is nearly finished and quite beautiful, 
 as every one says, don't they. Aunt Ann and 
 Aunt Margaret? The true Italian style, or 
 Elizabethan, or Corinthian, which is it ? The 
 tower is lovely, and as to the saloon and draw- 
 ing-room, all the rooms in short, they are quite ex- 
 quisite. As Margaret Anne says, the florid style 
 of architecture quite. Not the florid ? Well, I 
 don't understand, but I am sure it does Mr. Horse- 
 fall infinite credit. You must be quite a foreigner 
 now : Italy, Switzerland, Persia, all the world over. 
 Oh, not Persia ! And where are you going next ?" 
 
 " Mr. Oliver Bat and I are going to Greece 
 together, I believe, and then we mean to return 
 and settle down in Yeo. I am just going to 
 speak to Miss Eaven ; I will come back directly," 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 Sir John went away, and Mr. Oliver Bat 
 took his place. 
 
 " Miss Daw tells me that there is no gossip in 
 Yeo now/' he said. "What has happened here, 
 Mrs. Love, to effect such a change ?" 
 
 " I see you're not improved, Mr. Oliver, by 
 your foreign travels, and I don't think you've 
 any right to go wandering about the w^oiid and 
 picking up all sorts of fancies. I never knew we 
 were gossips, and indeed there's nothing to 
 gossip about that I know of, except that Ellen 
 Eagles over there. I wonder she ventures to 
 show her nose in public, don't you. Aunt Mar- 
 garet ? And to bring that child with her that 
 nobody knows anything about ! I declare I 
 scarcely like letting Margaret Anne come into 
 such company." 
 
 " Oh ! then Miss Eagles hasn't given up the — 
 What was it ?" asked Mr. Oliver, quietly. 
 
 " I should think not," said Margaret Anne, with 
 a toss of her head. " They say she continues — " 
 
 "My dear, you should know nothing about 
 such things !" said Miss Margaret Daw. 
 
 " Certainly not !" said Miss Ann. 
 
 '' A bold, impudent young woman," said Miss 
 Margaret. 
 
 " Very," said Miss Ann. 
 
 ''Perhaps it is not true," said Miss Harriet.
 
 THE LORD OF THE MAXOR. 291 
 
 '' True — " began Mrs. Love, but Mr. Oliver 
 also wanted to speak to Miss Raven, and bowed 
 himself off, leaving the ladies to speculate on the 
 possibility of his marrying that '* tall, thin 
 woman, after all." 
 
 By this time the children were engaged in 
 various games, and Miss Raven, aided by Aline 
 and her nieces, were plajing with them, as 
 were Kezia Lyons, and others of the party. Miss 
 Eagles still stood apart, alone, watching, or ap- 
 pearing to watch, the children. 
 
 Aline went to her from time to time, as did 
 the Ravens ; but her little bit of mystery had 
 been magnified by rumour and gossip into such a 
 big bit of mystery, that her friends and ac- 
 quaintances seemed to avoid her by tacit consent. 
 
 Sir John Nux e nt about the field, making 
 himself agreeable. He talked some time to Mr. 
 Lyons, whose family were, as he well knew, the 
 descendants of the old proprietors of his present 
 domain. Mr. Lyons looked, as he really was, a 
 gentleman, and had put on his best manners 
 with his best coat. He introduced his childreu, 
 George and Jemima inclusive, and a goodly 
 show they made. 
 
 " Only eleven. Sir John," he said, " and the 
 grandchild makes the twelfth. ' 
 
 Then Sir John went with Mr. Raven to be
 
 292 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 introduced to his sister and children. In shaking 
 hands with the eldest girl, now twelve years of 
 age, he saw Aline. 
 
 " Surely this is not your sister ?" he said, 
 holding out his hand to Aline, who frankly held 
 out hers in return. 
 
 "Oh, no; it is Miss Rambully," was the reply. 
 
 " I live at the Downs Farm," said Aline, seeing 
 Sir John look inquisitive. 
 
 '^ Oh ! how are Mr. and Mrs. Bull ? I must go 
 and see them to-morrow." 
 
 "They are very well, thank you," said Aline, 
 turning away from the Baronet, to speak to Mr. 
 Oliver Bat, who came up to her. 
 
 ''I am so glad you are come home, Mr. Oliver," 
 said Aline, simply. " Will you not go and speak 
 to Miss Eagles ? I think she will be so glad to see 
 you again." 
 
 " Yes, if you will come with me," replied Mr. 
 Oliver. 
 
 The pair went together, closely watched by a 
 great many eyes, and by none more narrowly than 
 ])y those of Sir John Nux. 
 
 Sir John was a great admirer of beauty. 
 What young man of three-and-twenty is not ? or 
 of three-and-sixty, for that much. fie had 
 admired Miss Love's curls, delicate complexion, 
 and slight figure : he now admired Aline's beau-
 
 THE LORD OF THE MANOR. 293 
 
 tiful eyes, as she looked at him and told him 
 so honestly that she lived at the Downs Farm ; 
 he thought, " what a sweet child," and wondered 
 what she was doing at the Downs, and how she 
 came there. 
 
 Sir John Nux was a good-looking, gentleman- 
 like young man. He was short of stature, but well 
 grown, and lithe and active, as young men should 
 be. He had nothing remarkable in his appear- 
 ance. He was not of that hero type, or that aristo- 
 cratic bearing, that are supposed to make passers- 
 by ask^ "Who is that ? "but he was well-mannered, 
 well-dressed, well-to-do in position and fortune, 
 and well pleased with himself and the world in 
 general. He was neither remarkably clever nor 
 remarkably stupid, and what he lacked in talent, 
 he made up in observation. He had plenty of 
 money and time at his own disposal, so while his 
 new house was building, he had roamed about the 
 world, admiring many things much, but more than 
 all else the ladies. He had a mother who lived 
 abroad and was entirely independent of him, but 
 to whom he paid frequent visits. Her health being 
 delicate she could not, or fancied she could not, 
 reside in England, so she had purchased a villa at 
 Nice^ and lived there principally. 
 
 The chemical great great grandfather of the 
 Nux's had acted more liberally by his descen-
 
 294 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 dants, than had the more aristocratic ancestor of 
 the Lyons's. 
 
 Mr. Oliver Bat and Aline duly reached Miss 
 Eagles, while Sir John was watching them, and 
 when he had turned away to make inquiries con- 
 cerning Aline of Mrs. Love, and to receive such 
 answers as that lady might be expected to give, 
 Mr. Oliver and Ellen were casting at one another 
 all kinds of missiles. 
 
 "How is your father, Miss Ellen ?" said Mr. 
 Oliver. 
 
 " Thank you — he is not well." 
 
 '* I shall go and see him." 
 
 '' He will be very glad." 
 
 "And you? are you not glad to see an old 
 friend again? " 
 
 " A friend, yes — but I never see one — except 
 perhaps Aline." 
 
 " Whose fault is that ?" 
 
 "Not mine." 
 
 " Perhaps, then, the anonymous friend's? 
 
 ''Perhaps, so. 
 
 "You will not — you have not given him up?" 
 
 " I have not, and I will not." 
 
 " Oh Ellen! you are sowing for yourself sorrow 
 to reap — " 
 
 " A triumph." 
 
 " There is my daddy," broke in Aline, as she
 
 THE LORD OF THE MANOR. 295 
 
 saw farmer Bull enter the field, and hastening to 
 meet him, she left Mr. Oliver and Ellen for a few 
 moments alone. 
 
 ''Ellen, why will you not tell me what you 
 mean?" asked Mr. Oliver, anxiously. 
 
 " Are you not afraid to speak to me ? look at 
 
 those Daws and Loves yonder ! they hear everv 
 
 %j tj ^ 
 
 word you say, and to morrow you will be the 
 anonymous." 
 
 " I wish I were, I should then be satisfied." 
 
 '^ A friend would be satisfied with his friend's 
 word." 
 
 " But you give me no word." 
 
 For a moment Ellen Eagles thought *' I will 
 tell him all and end this mystery." But she 
 glanced round and saw many eyes fixed on her 
 and, as it were, fingers pointed at her. She was 
 instantly possessed with the demon of pride : she 
 would have her triumph, — she would bide her time. 
 
 "You have been in Italy," she said, abruptly, 
 "did you think of my brother?" 
 
 " I did, and I once fancied I saw him/' and as 
 he spoke, Mr. Oliver Bat sighed, gave Miss 
 Eagles one reproachful look, and was his own dry 
 cynical self again. 
 
 "But if it was he, and if he knew me, he 
 avoided me, and left the picture gallery in which 
 I was."
 
 296 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 Another interruption. 
 
 " Oliver, I have been looking everywhere for 
 you," said Mr. Nicholas Bat from behind. 
 
 "Oh! Miss Ellen, how are you? where is your 
 father? he promised me to come. Oliver, we 
 must go home to dinner. Miss Eagles, have you 
 heard anything of that young boy in whom you 
 were interested?" 
 
 Miss Eagles told him that they had heard from 
 Lachlan. 
 
 He pulled his brother's coat, nudged his elbow, 
 and winked at him mysteriously. Mr. Oliver 
 understood. 
 
 "There is more money at his service, Miss 
 Ellen, if he wants it," he said ; " good bye." 
 
 They shook hands and parted. 
 
 With the five gentlemen, the light of the tea- 
 drinking went out to many of the by-standers, 
 but the children, with Aline and Kezia amongst 
 them, still continued their merry games. 
 
 And Ellen Eagles still watched, or seemed to 
 watch them, with two large tears in her eyes.
 
 29' 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 ELLEN AND HER PUBLISHERS. 
 
 During the course of tlie following week Sir 
 John Nux made frequent visits to the Downs 
 Farm. He met Aline several times. Once he 
 came upon her in the hay-fielcl, where she was 
 raking vigorously, whilst her mother was sitting 
 under a tree at a little distance. He stopped to 
 talk to her daddy, and to look at her. Another 
 time he fell in with her at early morning on the 
 Downs, when she, her pony, and her dog, were 
 racing over the dewy sward. As he was on 
 horseback, he rode with her, and she, nothing 
 loth, found herself at last at full gallop with the 
 young squire. When she told her mother and 
 Fluke of the adventure, the former laughed, the 
 latter scolded, but both said she should not make 
 acquaintance with young men without an intro- 
 duction.
 
 298 KOTHING VENTURE, NOTHINa HAVE. 
 
 Again, Sir John stumbled upon Aline when 
 she was coming down a ladder from a hay-loft, 
 whither she had been in search of new-laid eggs 
 for her mamma. She had several in her pinafore 
 when she saw him comings and in her haste to 
 descend before he reached her, she stumbled and 
 fell. What could he do but help her up out of 
 the very dirty place in which he found her, and 
 condole with her as with a child upon her broken 
 eggs and muddy frock ? She laughed so heartily, 
 and blushed so charmingly, that Sir John 
 thought, as did Mr. Oliver Bat, that he had 
 never seen so sweet a child. Had he not made 
 up his mind to be in Greece at a certain period, 
 it is possible that he might have stayed longer at 
 the Downs to look after Aline, but he told her he 
 should be back again in a twelvemonth, when he 
 supposed that his new house would be finished ; 
 and she told him that all the farmers hoped he 
 would come home for good. 
 
 Once more he saw her sitting reading to her 
 mother under the elms, by the little chapel, near 
 the sluggish brook. She nodded to him as he 
 passed, but he stopped and turned back, and, after 
 hesitating a while, spoke to her and her mother. 
 
 Madam Rambully was rather pleased to be 
 addressed in a tone of voice to which she had 
 long been a stranger, and entered into conversa-
 
 ELLEN AND HER PUBLISHERS. 299 
 
 tion with him, keeping down the blue veil the 
 while. No one of his calibre had ventured to 
 address her before since she had been at the 
 farm. The Mr. Bats had nodded to Aline, and 
 passed on when she was with her mother, but 
 the younger and bolder man made her acquaint- 
 ance. They talked of many things, but mostly 
 of Italy, until Madam Eambully, suddenly re- 
 membering her desire of secrecy, rose, and 
 bowing to Sir John, walked away. 
 
 Aline had tutored Max to guide her mother, 
 and it was a pretty sight to see the blind lady 
 cross the little foot-bridge over the stream, with 
 Max pulling her by a string in front, and Aline 
 holding her dress behind. No wonder that Sir 
 John stood to watch them, or that he continued 
 to do so as Madam Rambully put her arm 
 round Aline's neck, and walked on. She was 
 taller than her daughter, and of very graceful 
 figure, and as her blue veil fell upon Aline's 
 white sun-bonnet, Sir John thought of the clouds 
 about the moon, and became momentarily 
 poetic. 
 
 But the little excitement caused by his and 
 Mr. Oliver Bat's return to the country, was soon 
 to be over, as they left it again in the prescribed 
 week. Mr. Oliver had been to see Mr. Eagles, 
 but as Miss Eao'les was out at the time he did
 
 300 NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 not see her again. He left, however, with her 
 father a present of some foreign books and 
 pictures, — nominally for him, really, as Ellen 
 rightly judged, intended for her. 
 
 She grew paler and paler, sterner and sterner, 
 relaxing only for her father and Aline. 
 
 But in the course of a few weeks, she looked 
 brighter and more hopeful. A letter came from 
 Lachlan to his uncle, which, though short and 
 hurried, I will transcribe, as I have done its pre- 
 decessors. 
 
 " Great George Street, Westminster, 
 
 " August 17tli, 18—. 
 
 '*My dear Uncle, 
 
 " At last I hope I have made one step 
 in life. Before I left Newcastle I received a 
 letter from Mr. Markman, telling me that Mr. 
 Eaven had kindly given him my address and 
 character, and that he wished me to go at once to 
 him in London. This was not so easy, as the 
 journey was long and expensive; but, fortu- 
 nately, I had just got some money by my 
 lectures, and Stern had gained a trifle by his 
 work, so we set out. Stern would not leave me, 
 and, indeed, T could not have parted with him, 
 so he, Yeo, and I, got to London as best we 
 could. Sometimes we walked, sometimes we got 
 into a waggon, sometimes into a returned chaise,
 
 ELLEN AND HER PUBLISHERS. 301 
 
 and at last we finished our journey grandly, by 
 coach and train. 
 
 ''We were weary enough when we reached 
 London, where neither of us had ever been 
 before. As to Yeo, he was half dead, and I had 
 to carry him occasionally, for we did not let the 
 grass grow under our feet you may be sure. 
 We found out Great George Street somehow, 
 and presented ourselves, in navvy garb, late at 
 night, at Mr. Markman's office. He was not 
 there. He was gone to his house in the country. 
 Nobody was there but a porter. We felt very 
 forlorn. The man mis-doubted us, and would 
 only tell us to call again the next morning if we 
 wanted to see Mr. Markman. 
 
 " We walked up the street, and then stood still 
 to look about us. A carriage drove up, just 
 before the door near which I was standing. Two 
 ladies and a gentleman came out of the house, and 
 got into it. One of them was a beautiful young 
 girl in white, so like Cousin Kern that it was as 
 if her spirit were before me. The light of a lamp 
 fell upon us both. She looked at me, and I could 
 have sworn it was she. She got into the car- 
 riage, however, and I saw no more of her. 
 
 *'A policeman politely told us to 'move on.' 
 I asked him where we could ' move ' to get a 
 night's decent lodging, and he pointed the way to
 
 302 IS-QTHING VENTURE, NOTHINa HAVE. 
 
 a public-house. We had money enough left to 
 pay for a supper and a bed, and with some difii- 
 culty we got them. 
 
 ^' The next morning we went to Mr. Markman's 
 office again. We waited some time in the hall, 
 and at last he came. I remembered him well, 
 and my heart beat faster than it ever beat before 
 when I saw him. He did not know me, and 
 hurried into his office. We waited on. At last 
 I asked a clerk to tell him that Lachlan Lyons 
 was come, according to his summons : and I gave 
 the clerk his letter. Mr. Markman sent for me 
 at once. 
 
 " Stern and Yeo followed me. It looked ridicu- 
 lous, I know, but I couldn't tell them to stay 
 behind. 
 
 *' ' Still in navvy dress ?' said Mr. Markman. 
 ' Who have you with you ?' 
 
 " I told him ; and then Stern said that he had 
 only come to put me safe into his honour's hands, 
 and to hear what was to become of me, and then 
 he would go and look for work somewhere 
 near. 
 
 " Mr. Markman smiled kindly, and told him to 
 sit down, and wait a while. He then said that 
 he wanted an active steady fellow in his office, to 
 do whatever work he chose to give him, and that 
 if I did not mind drudgery of head and hand, I
 
 ELLEN" AND HER PUBLISHERS. 303 
 
 might have the post, and learn engineering in 
 return. 
 
 '*I need not tell you how I jumped at the offer, 
 or how thankful I felt for it. Tell Mark that now 
 I am in London I will try to find something for 
 him. It will be my fault now if I am not, some 
 day, a civil engineer. 
 
 " Stern began to cry when he heard of my 
 good luck. Poor fellow ! he is not very strong 
 yet. And then Yeo began to howl — you know 
 he alvmys howls when he sees any one cry. 
 
 " Mr. Markman rang his bell, and ordered 
 luncheon in another room, for three. This was 
 for Stern, Yeo, and me. We did credit to it, I 
 assure you, and blessed the donor. 
 
 '' He then told Stern that there was work for 
 him on a new line, and that he could, if he liked, 
 get a lodging within reach of me, but that I must 
 live in Great George Street. 
 '^ And so it was settled. 
 
 " I am now ^ in office.' I am to have a bedroom 
 above, and the use of a small sitting-room, when 
 I have time to leave work. Mr. Markman has 
 advanced me some money to improve my dress a 
 little, and has sent Stern to his work. I arrived 
 in London last night, and already feel at home in 
 this great house. It shall go hard with me if I 
 do not prove my gratitude to Mr. Markman, Mr.
 
 304 NOTHma venture, nothing have. 
 
 Eaven, and all my friends, by 'deeds, not 
 
 words/ 
 
 " With love to all, 
 
 "Your dutiful nephew, 
 
 '^Lachlan Lyons." 
 
 When the next letter was sent to Kern, she 
 was informed that her cousin was her near neigh- 
 bour, and Aline pictured to herself the pleasure 
 that Kern would have in again seeing Lachlan. 
 All the members of the various families at the 
 different farms rejoiced in Lachlan's improving 
 fortunes, and augured great things for him ; Mrs. 
 Lyons, alone, lamented that he should be putting 
 foolish notions into Mark's head. She said her 
 boy was " civil " enough already, and Lachlan too, 
 and she didn't see that they wanted to go to 
 London to be made " civiller." 
 
 Some weeks after the receipt of Lachlan's 
 letter. Miss Eagles was seen walking to Yeo- 
 minster with a large brown paper parcel under 
 her arm, well sealed, and tightly tied. Various 
 conjectures were hazarded upon this subject, but 
 when, after careful inquiry, it was found that 
 she had herself booked the said parcel at the 
 Yeominster coach ofiQce, nobody doubted that 
 it was sent to the anonymous correspondent. 
 
 Weekly, for many months, did Miss Eagles
 
 ELLEN AXD HER PUBLISHERS. 305 
 
 trudge her five miles to Yeominster, anxious for 
 an acknowledgment of her parcel. At last it 
 came in a long letter from Lachlan, directed as 
 was agreed between him and Miss Eagles. I 
 should say that he had previously sent her a 
 newspaper to assure her of its safe arrival. We 
 will venture to read his letter, though no one 
 but Miss Eagles may ever read it besides. 
 
 We must accompany Miss Eagles in her breath- 
 less walk home — her agitated meeting with her 
 father — her hurried tea — and finally, her retire- 
 ment to her own room. 
 
 There she opened the letter, with trembling 
 fingers and quick throbbing pulses. It was as 
 follows: — 
 
 "Great George Street, 
 
 " March 8th, 18—. 
 
 "Dear Miss Eagles, 
 
 " At last I may relieve your suspense, and 
 say that the business is done. Your book is 
 actually accepted, and will be printed in the 
 spring, if you agree to the terms. Mr. Markman 
 says they are very fair ; but I must tell you my 
 adventures in search of a publisher before I come 
 to the terms, or Mr. Markman's opinion. 
 
 " As soon as the MS. arrived, and at my first 
 leisure moments, I went to Messrs. Critic and 
 Schoolem, one of the first publishing firms in 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 XOTHI^^G VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 Paternoster Eow. I saw a gentleman of very 
 bland manners and smooth coat, and told my 
 errand. He did not detain me long. He said at 
 once that their firm published very few books of 
 the sort, and those only by the established 
 authors of the day. I felt inclined to ask what 
 sort he meant — but as I saw nothing further was 
 to be made of him I held my tongue. 
 
 " I then went to another firm in that same cele- 
 brated ' Eow.' The gentleman I saw was very 
 civil, and I liked his manner better than the other ; 
 he was not quite so smooth. 
 
 "I showed him the MS. He said at once that 
 a book with such a name would never take. It 
 was a sentimental and fashionable age, and every- 
 thing depended on a title. 'Ann Ellis!' who 
 would ever buy a book with a heroine so called ? 
 Moreover a West End publisher would be more 
 likely to entertain a novel. They would read the 
 MS., but they scarcely thought it likely it would 
 suit them. 
 
 *' I asked when I could have the MS. if I left it 
 for perusal. 'In about a month or so,' was 
 the reply. 
 
 *' I left it accordingly. 
 
 " The month passed, and I went again to the 
 •Row,' and saw my friend. He had forgotten 
 me apparently, and when I inquired about the
 
 ELLEX AND HER PUBLISHERS. 307 
 
 book, he seemed to have forgotten that as well. 
 However, I recalled it to his mind. No — he was 
 very sorry, but it had not been read. A press of 
 business had prevented attention having been 
 given to it. He would send it to a literary 
 friend, and let me have an answer in a week or 
 so. And, in effect, the answer came together 
 with the MS. 
 
 " The work had merit, said the note, but it was 
 too abrupt in style, and the characters were of too 
 natural and commonplace a kind to insure it 
 success. It was accordingly declined with 
 thanks. So much for Messrs. Scribe and Co. 
 
 " I next went to the West End. I asked Mr. 
 Markman the names of the best publishers of 
 works of fiction, and he told me one or two, but 
 I did not then name my reasons for asking. 
 
 " My first West End attempt was on Mr. Cold- 
 man. He made a great many inquiries concern- 
 ing the author of the book. Was it a first 
 work, &c., &c. I said you had written for a 
 periodical, and when I told him what periodical, 
 he took the MS. at once under cousideration, and 
 promised me an answer in a fortnight. 
 
 " This time the reply came according to promise. 
 
 " The opinion was, Mr. Coldman said, not 
 altogether unfavourable, but in the present state 
 of literature and of the public taste, plain
 
 308 NOTHINa VENTURE, NOTHINa HAVE. 
 
 descriptions of everyday life, mixed up with 
 broad cutting satire, did not succeed. He thought 
 that if the author would write a book with more 
 fashionable names, and lay the scene in another 
 grade of society, and make the language somewhat 
 less terse, he (you see they take you for a man), 
 might make a successful work. 
 
 " I tried one or two more fashionable publishers, 
 as they are called, with similar results, and then 
 I was almost going to give up the hunt in des- 
 pair. But I resolved to consult Mr. Markman, 
 which I did, without mentioning name or sex. 
 
 " He, too, asked me if my friend had ever pub- 
 lished anything. And when I told him, he sent 
 me at once to the publishers of the ' Metropolitan 
 Magazine,' for which you write, to whom, strange 
 to say, I had never applied. 
 
 " I no sooner told Mr. Beauclerc that the work 
 I brought with me was by the author of the 
 essays by E. E., than he said it should have 
 immediate attention. I left the MS., feeling 
 more hopeful than I had felt before. 
 
 "Yesterday, I received a letter from Mr. 
 Beauclerc, which I will copy for you : 
 
 " ' Dear Sir, 
 
 " * We shall be happy to publish '* Ann 
 Ellis," upon half profits. We run a great risk,
 
 ELLEN AND HER PUBLISHERS. 309 
 
 for the book, though one of decided originality 
 and talent, is not suited to the taste of the times ; 
 still, if our terms meet the author's views, we 
 will go to print at once.' &c., &c. 
 
 " Mr. Markman says, that you would not make 
 better terms than these anywhere for a first 
 book, though what they call ' half profits ' are no 
 profits at all. The publisher pays all expenses 
 first, and then he and the author divide the 
 profits ; but somehow or other there are never 
 any. 
 
 "He said this sarcastically, and, as he has 
 himself written books, I suppose he found that 
 his profits did not come in ; but assuredly yours 
 will. 
 
 "Let me know your decision immediately. 
 
 " K you could trust me to correct the proofs, 
 it would save the expense and difficulty of send- 
 ing them to you. I think I know your style. 
 I have not time for much personal matter. I am 
 very happy, and Mr. Markman is very kind. I 
 am so hard at work that I have only been twice 
 to Dr. Dove's. Oh ! I must give you a charac- 
 teristic anecdote of Cousin Kern. 
 
 " The day that I went to buy some respectable 
 clothes, after my arrival in London, I met her. 
 I did not then know she was in town, and I had 
 on my navvy dress.
 
 310 NOTHIXa VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE. 
 
 " Kern was walking with her aunt, and at- 
 tended by her constant beau, Mr. Robert Love, 
 and some other gentleman. 
 
 " I felt sure it was ray cousin, and, forgetting 
 my appearance, was going to speak to her — but 
 she looked at me, and passed on. She declares 
 that she did not see me, but I am sure she did. 
 
 " However, she is tolerably polite now I have 
 a coat, albeit not of fashionable make, or very 
 fine substance ; but wishes I would have my 
 hair cut, and my collars differently made. 
 
 '' She certainly is the most beautiful girl in 
 London. And Dr. Dove told me, that he did not 
 like to take her out, people stared at her so. 
 But she behaves admirably, and seems to keep 
 all her admirers at as great a distance in London 
 as she did the boys at Yeo. She plays with 
 Bullying Bob as a cat would with a mouse. That 
 splendid ensign cut me dead, of course. But he 
 has managed to make the old baronet story 
 known to some one about these offices, for the 
 clerks have got hold of the joke. But I take no 
 notice of it. 
 
 " Dr. and Mrs. Dove were very kind in in- 
 viting me to their house whenever I could go 
 thither ; but after office hours I read and study as 
 much as I can. 
 
 " Stern has work on a new line near London,
 
 ELLEX AXD HER PUBLISHERS. 311 
 
 and is very happy, I am glad to say. He comes 
 to see me frequently. Yeo has a good birth, 
 and so has his master, thank God for it ! 
 
 " And now I must conclude, with best wishes 
 for ' Ann Ellis,' and its author. 
 
 " Yours, dear Miss Eagles, 
 " Very truly, 
 
 "Lachlan Lyoxs." 
 
 An author will readily understand Miss Eagles' 
 feelings on the receipt of this letter ; and by those 
 who are not authors, I should scarcely make them 
 understood. Suffice it to say, that when she had 
 read it, she burst into tears, and that the tears 
 did her a great deal more good than all the proud 
 self-restraint that she had been putting on herself 
 for months. 
 
 END OF VOL. L
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PBINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STASIFOBD STREET 
 AND CHABING CRGSS.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLIN0I9-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 041389724 
 
 W-M