April, 1874. 
 
 ,S AT THE LIBRARIES. 
 
 LADY MORETOUN'S DAUGHTER. 
 Crown 8vo. cloth. 
 
 By' Mrs. Eii.oart. In 3 vols. | 
 
 ri. . . . The n-irratirc is well sustained.' 
 
 aiid readal>le."— y/o«r. 
 
 "A faithful and well-dr 
 Dailv Review. 
 
 " V'ividly sketched. . . . 
 Brighton Gazelle. 
 
 picture of Hnjfhsh life and character." — HHin'turgli 
 'itten in a thoroughly fresh and interesting style." — 
 
 MARGARET AND ELIZABETH. A Story of the Sea. By Kathkri.ne 
 S.\i;.NDEKS, Author of " Gideon's Rock," &c. In I vol. Cloth, crown 8vo. 
 
 '•Simply yet powerfully told. . . . This opening picture is so exquisitely drawn as to 
 he a fit introduction to a Ftory of such simple pathos and power. ... A very beautiful 
 story closes as it began, in a tender and tuuchnig picture of homely happiness."— A>// 
 Mall GazdU. 
 
 BRESSANT. A Romance. By Juli.xn H.^WTllOR^•E. 3 vols. Crown 8vo. 
 " Tlie story as it stands is one of the most powerful with which uc are acquainted." 
 
 " Enough to make us hopeful that we shall once- more have reason to rejoice whenever 
 •tha ..... . . . . 
 
 Hawihorne.' 
 
 IDOLATRY; 
 
 A ROMANCE. IN TWO V01..S 
 
 By Julian Hawthorne, 
 In the Press, and will shortly appear. 
 
 Henry .S. King & Co. 65 Cornhill, & 12 Patkrnostkr Row.
 
 
 Waiting for Tidings. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF ''WHITE AND BLACK:' 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Henry S. King & Co., 
 
 65, Corniiill; & 12, Paternoster Row, London. 
 
 1874.
 
 OF THL 
 UN I VLR5ITY 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 
 B48wa 
 
 v.l 
 
 [-•/// rights nsa-fJ.\
 
 r / 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Guardian and Ward 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 Only a Servant 4° 
 
 ■^^ CHAPTER HI. 
 
 V Very Unhappy 64 
 
 ; CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "' On the Beach S7 
 
 :{ CHAPTER V. 
 
 ""^ In the Boat 116 
 
 „« - 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Drifting 152
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Forgery 185 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Drowned or Lost? 227 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Captured 253 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Check by Discovery 275
 
 Waiting for Tidings. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 
 
 The late Churchill Cressingham, of Rawlstone 
 Hall, in the county of. Suffolk, had married the 
 sister of Theodore Halton, of the city of Lon- 
 don, and of Murchison Square, W., LL.D., 
 F.R.S., F.R.G.S., and member of half-a-dozen 
 learned societies in Paris and London besides ; 
 and of John Halton, of Creswick Gardens, 
 partner with Theodore in business, and by far 
 the best business man of the two. 
 
 John Halton married his cousin, and had 
 no children, which was a great satisfaction to 
 him, as he liked quiet, and hated all moral 
 responsibilities. Theodore had five or six 
 olive branches, of whom, three survived to 
 the age for systematic intellectual training. 
 They bid fair to be well educated, for their 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 father was in correspondence with the most 
 erudite men in Europe and America, and 
 he early drew up a plan for their education, 
 based upon principles at once logical and 
 philosophical ; but, fortunately for them, their 
 mother was quite unable to carry it out. 
 Mrs. Halton's weak health made a residence 
 in a warm climate necessary in the winter, so 
 that the family went abroad every six months, 
 and in the enforced idleness of travelling, the 
 children found a healthy relaxation from the 
 admirable discipline of their father's educa- 
 tional system. Edward, the eldest, also, eman- 
 cipated himself by early displaying an aptitude 
 for business, so that he was taken into the 
 counting-house, but the girls continued to go 
 abroad with their parents every winter. 
 
 Churchill Cressingham, having no near rela- 
 tive of his own, looked for a guardian for his 
 little daughter Margaret among his wife's kith 
 and kin ; and in consequence of these long 
 absences of Theodore from home, he chose 
 John Hal ton for that office, regardless of the 
 fact that he did not like children ; nor did 
 John grumble much at having to perform
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 3 
 
 the duties of guardian, as long as his sister 
 was ahve ; but when she died, six years 
 after her husband, and he saw he must un- 
 dertake the responsibiHties of an educator 
 of youth in real earnest, he felt exceed- 
 ingly aggrieved, and lifted up his voice and 
 lamented. 
 
 " Why should Churchill have selected me 
 for the child's guardian ? Theodore would 
 have done much better and have found it no 
 trouble. He has children of his own and 
 knows all about them, and one more would 
 have been of no consequence to him." 
 
 " I do not think he or Alice know much 
 how to bring up children," said Mrs. Hal ton, 
 by way of consoling her husband under this 
 hard dispensation. " Their own girls are 
 quite odd and peculiar. And I do not think 
 your brother would have managed the little 
 girl's money as well as you will." 
 
 " Well, no ; there you are right, Anne. 
 Theo's business capacity is about equal to 
 his skill on horseback : he makes but a poor 
 figure in either way. That boy of his is 
 already a much better man of business than
 
 4 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 he is. No ; Theo would have been a poor 
 guardian for the property certainly, but I 
 wish he had the charge of the child. I 
 wish I had known this was to come so 
 suddenly upon us." 
 
 Mrs. Cressingham's death had not come 
 suddenly upon any one who ever bestowed a 
 thought upon her. She had been slowly sinking 
 ever since her husband's death, and every- 
 one, except Mr. Halton, knew it. Church- 
 hill Cressingham died from injuries sustained 
 in the overturn of his carriage, and his wife 
 who was with him on that occasion, although 
 she survived the accident, never recovered 
 from the hurt she then received. She soon 
 left Rawlstone Hall, where she had been 
 happy with her husband ; a bailiff was left in 
 charge of the farm there, and the house 
 was let furnished to a gentleman of property 
 who was rebuilding his own. She went to 
 Enderby, in Lincolnshire, where she had a 
 smaller farm and dwelling-house, and where 
 she could be near to a dear friend of her 
 schooldays who had married a doctor there. 
 But as she liked the neighbourhood of the
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 5 
 
 sea, she went from Enderby to the little 
 fishing village of Sandmouth, about ten miles 
 off, and there took the Hermitage, the only 
 good house in the vicinity, for herself and 
 child and servants. Here she had remained, 
 growing weaker and weaker, and holding but 
 little communication with her brothers, for 
 she had never liked John's wife, and Theodore 
 was more often out of England than not. She 
 wrote to him at Nice, shortly before her death, 
 and begged him to take an interest in her 
 poor little girl ; and in writing to John, she 
 sueeested, that if at the time of her death, 
 Theodore and AHce should be out of England, 
 the child might remain at Enderby with her 
 friend, Mrs. Grahame, until they should return, 
 — an idea which now appeared to John Halton 
 as very commendable. 
 
 " It is the only sensible thing my sister 
 ever did," he remarked. " I shall certainly 
 let the girl remain with this Mrs. Grahame 
 until Theodore returns. If poor Churchill 
 had had any common sense, I might have 
 been spared all this perplexity. It really 
 evinced more want of discernment than I
 
 6 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 would have given him credit for, to make me 
 the orirl's oruardian. I have all the business 
 to manage now Theodore is away (and it is 
 even more trouble to me when he is at 
 home, because he won't give his mind to it, 
 and will interfere), and now I am to have 
 all this girl's property to look after. It is 
 killing me!" And Mr. Halton leaned back 
 in his armchair, looking tnoroughly ill-treated, 
 and poured out a glass of wine to recruit 
 exhausted nature. 
 
 " Take another glass, doctor," he said hos- 
 pitably, for his medical attendant was sitting 
 with him in his study, condoling with him 
 on his annoying increase of responsibilities ; 
 but secretly wondering whether Mr. Halton's 
 health would not be much better by having 
 the excitement of a lively child running about 
 his house. 
 
 " I shall go down to Enderby, no, to Sand- 
 mouth (that is further still), in time for the 
 funeral, — I must, I suppose, — but not before," 
 said Mr. Halton. "It would hardly do for 
 me to undertake two journeys, so quickly 
 succeedincr each other ; would it, doctor ?"
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 7 
 
 " The poor little girl is not alone by herself, 
 I suppose ?" answered the doctor, evading the 
 question. 
 
 " Oh, no ; there are plenty of old family 
 servants, and this Mrs. Grahame. She could 
 not be in better hands. She would derive 
 no comfort from my presence," said Mr. 
 Halton, again leaning back in his chair. 
 The doctor thought this last suggestion 
 might be a true one, but he answered, — 
 
 " The sea air would do you good, perhaps," 
 but his patient shook his head with an air of 
 languid decision, and he said no more. 
 
 Mr. Halton did not go down until the day 
 before the funeral. " His wife," he said, *'did 
 not wish him ;" though it must be observed, 
 that that amiable lady's interference in the 
 matter was limited to saying, — 
 
 " Do you think you ought to go, dear ? 
 What do you think ?" 
 
 " No ; I don't think I ought," said Mr. 
 Halton. " It is a day's journey there." And 
 there the question ended ; but in the matter 
 of his guardianship, his wife had more to say. 
 She was fifteen years younger than himself,
 
 8 WAITING FOR TIDINXS. 
 
 and was much occupied with dress and 
 amusement. 
 
 " At any rate, my dear, you must not bring 
 the little girl up here, because I should not 
 know what to do with her. I am sure the 
 nurse and other servants will stop and take 
 care of her if you promise them an increase 
 of wages ; and I suppose we can find a good 
 school where she can be educated." 
 
 " I suppose we must. Do you know of one?" 
 answered her husband. " Dear, dear, to think 
 that we should be obliged to look out for 
 schools and governesses at our time of life!" 
 
 As his was precisely the time of life at which 
 many men are bothered with the same thing, 
 without having his ample income to support 
 the expense thereon attendant, Mr. Halton was 
 hardly to be pitied above the rest of his species. 
 His lady cheered him up. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Grahame will help us about the 
 child ; and we can leave her with the nurse for 
 a few months, till Theodore and Alice come 
 home, and they will find a school for her. 
 They have girls of their own, you know. I 
 hope the child is pretty."
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 9 
 
 " And why ? " asked her husband in surprise. 
 
 "Why, I should Hke'her to be, because, when 
 she leaves school and comes to us " 
 
 " Oh, but she will never have to come and 
 live with us," said John Halton, with some- 
 thing so like a groan, that his wife looked 
 frightened. 
 
 "Well, I do not know, John," she made 
 haste to say. " I suppose she must, when she 
 comes out, till she is married." 
 
 " And when is she to come out, as you call 
 it ? " he asked testily. 
 
 " Oh, not now, not yet, till she leaves school; 
 when she is eighteen or nineteen." 
 
 " Oh well, she is only fourteen now, thank 
 goodness, " said the guardian much relieved, 
 and crossing his right leg over his left, he 
 opened the newspaper. 
 
 Mr. Halton went down for the funeral, saw 
 his late sister's man of business, and m.ade 
 acquaintance with his niece. She certainly was 
 not pretty. With features unformed, pale, and 
 swollen with crying, and complexion tanned and 
 freckled by exposure to the sea-air, she was 
 rather the contrary. Mr. Halton had not the
 
 lO WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 experience of young people that would have 
 enabled him to see the promise of beauty in the 
 face which he saw now in its ugliest aspect; and 
 what little interest had been excited in him for 
 his sister's orphan, vanished before the sight of 
 this very plain child. He did not like to raise 
 the question of her going to school at present ; 
 he asked for Mrs. Grahame, and debated within 
 himself what he should say to her. She lived 
 at Enderby, ten miles off, and was, he learned, 
 too ill to see any one. Her husband, Dr. 
 Grahame, shook his head when Mr. Halton 
 alluded to Mrs. Cressingham's hope that his 
 wife would take an interest in the. girl. "My 
 wife will never be about again," he said sadly. 
 " She hid her illness from poor Mrs. Cressing- 
 ham; but she is now unable to leave her room, 
 and never will again. 'You had better take the 
 poor girl home with you." 
 
 Mr. Halton felt very much chagrined, and 
 pondered what he had best do. He did not 
 want to take his niece home with him. He 
 found that Mrs. Cressingham's cottage (the 
 Hermitage it was called), had been taken for a 
 term of years, of which two were still to run,
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. I I 
 
 and if he took his niece and the servants away, 
 he should have to find a tenant for it. He was 
 surprised that Mrs. Cressingham should have 
 chosen to live in so lonely a spot, — a little fishing 
 village, ten miles away from the nearest town ; 
 but Dr. Grahame told him that she had origin- 
 ally come there for sea-bathing, and that as her 
 illness increased, a kind of mental languor had 
 gained on her, and she was content to remain 
 where she was. 
 
 " She retained her faculties, so to speak, 
 till within the last fortnight of her life, but 
 she was incapable of any mental exertion," 
 he said. " She was governed by any one who 
 was near her. In fact, the little girl ruled her 
 and the house entirely. A strange child she is, 
 and will want care in training, I can tell you." 
 
 " I must find a good school, I suppose," said 
 Mr. Halton mournfully; he was much vexed to 
 find that the servants had told his niece she 
 would accompany him back to London immedi- 
 ately. He was clear only on the one poin,t, that 
 that could not be ; he must for a time leave her 
 where she was ; and during his solitary break- 
 fast he debated how he should introduce the
 
 12 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 subject to the girl herself. " Ruled the house 
 and her mother ? Then she will still expect to 
 rule, and to settle whether she will go to school 
 or not ; " and Mr. Hal ton went out to walk on 
 the shingle, and arrange his ideas while looking 
 for his niece Margaret. 
 
 He found her sitting on the shore, trying to 
 occupy herself with some needlework, and from 
 time to time laying it down to look at the sea, 
 and exchange a few words with a lad two or 
 three years older than herself, plainly but 
 neatly dressed, apparently as much of a com- 
 panion as a servant. He seemed sad and de- 
 jected in sympathy with her, but he was trying 
 to rouse her attention to, and interest in, 
 various objects he pointed out along the shore 
 or at sea. 
 
 " Do you see that brig, Miss May ? She 
 was out in the gale last Sunday, and has lost 
 her boom and topsails. They sent a boat 
 ashore for a new spar this morning." 
 
 " Where is she ? I can't see her, Jesse," 
 said Margaret looking up, her eyes full ot 
 tears. 
 
 Jesse pointed out the ship, and went on
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. ' IT, 
 
 describing the process of carpentering up the 
 injured rigging. 
 
 Mr. Halton walked on to solve his perplex- 
 ities, and settle what he should say to Margaret. 
 When he came back, she was talking very ear- 
 nestly to her companion. 
 
 " I never could bear to go to London with 
 him. I wish he would leave me here. What 
 w^ill become of nurse and Green if I go ? And 
 you, Jesse, what will you do ? " 
 
 " Oh, Miss May, if you go, I'll not stay. I 
 have stopped ashore to please grandmother ; 
 but if you go, I'll have my own way, and go 
 out with Master Lockwood. He has promised 
 I shall." 
 
 " But Mrs. Freeman will be very unhappy 
 if you do, Jesse," said Margaret in a tone 
 of superior wisdom. " You must see that 
 she only sent you to us that she might keep 
 you ashore." 
 
 " Yes, Miss May; and as long as your mamma 
 wanted me to draw her chair and lead the pony, 
 I stayed, or if you wanted me I would ; but I 
 mean to go to sea. I won't be a gardener's boy 
 or a ploughman ; and if you go to London, I
 
 14 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 will ask George Lockwood to speak to his 
 uncle for me," 
 
 He was silent. May's tears, called forth 
 afresh by his allusion to her mother, choked 
 her voice, and for some minutes nothing was 
 said. At last, Jesse, anxious to hear his 
 young lady speak again, repeated, — 
 
 " They shan't make me a labourer or a 
 ploughman." 
 
 " But why don't you help your brother in 
 his shop, Jesse ? " 
 
 " I hate the shop, Miss May, and Josiah 
 knows I do." 
 
 " But your grandmother wishes to send you 
 to school. Would not you go ? You don't 
 want to forget all I have taught you." 
 
 "It was very good of you to teach me. Miss 
 May, but I don't care for schooling, unless it's 
 you teach me. I want to go out with Lock- 
 wood ; he 's out a week at a time, and he lets 
 John and George go out with him, and that's 
 what I'll be doing if you are away, and don't 
 want me." 
 
 " I hope I am not going away," replied 
 May, crying. " I don't want to leave this
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. I 5 
 
 house where mamma died, and leave Green 
 and Dr. Grahame, and your good, kind grand- 
 mother." 
 
 ,Mr. Halton had been listening to the con- 
 versation, and he now came up and said,— 
 
 " My dear Margaret, if " but on second 
 
 thoughts he saw no need to discuss his plans in 
 the hearing of the sailor boy, and added, "Let 
 us go back to the house, it is growing damp. 
 Take up your workbasket." 
 
 " Jesse will. Here Jesse, get all the things 
 together," said Margaret, addressing her late 
 confidant in a tone of cool command ; and 
 throwing down her work for him to pick up 
 with the basket and parasol, she followed her 
 uncle into the house. 
 
 " You do not wish to leave this place, I heard 
 you say," Mr. Halton began judiciously. "You 
 would not like to go to school." 
 
 " To school ? No ; of course I should 
 not," answered Margaret, as determinately as 
 her sailor friend had expressed the same 
 idea, but with far more vehemence. " I won't 
 go to school ; I don't want to ; and I had 
 rather stay here, uncle, than go to London
 
 1 6 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 with you. Oh, please let me stay here, if 
 you don't mind." 
 
 Her uncle did not in the least mind ; if he 
 had been determined to take her to London, 
 his decision would have been overthrown by 
 that burst of vehemence. To endure such a 
 child in his house for even a week would be 
 an infliction not to be calmly contemplated, 
 and he made haste to promise her that she 
 might stay where she was, with two of the 
 women servants and the gardener, who could 
 look after the cows as well as the garden. 
 He said he would dismiss the other servants 
 before he went ; but, to his surprise, his little 
 niece volunteered to undertake that task her- 
 self, and added, " And I should like to have 
 the money for housekeeping, and their wages, 
 and I will pay them if you like." 
 
 Mr. Halton stared at the readiness with 
 which the girl undertook these responsibilities, 
 and replied, " My dear, you could not do4t." 
 
 " I have done it for the last year," said 
 Margaret quietly ; " and I should like it now, 
 now I have nothing to do ;" and her lips 
 trembled. " I must learn to manage for my-
 
 GUARDIAN A^^D WARD. I 7 
 
 self now," — but the girl's self-control here 
 gave way, and she hurried out of the room 
 sobbing. 
 
 " A strange child," thought Mr. Halton. 
 " I did not imagine there was so much 
 feeling in her ; a curious mixture she is. I 
 am glad I have settled to leave her here ; 
 she would never be happy at school." 
 
 So, satisfying himself that Mary Green, the 
 housemaid, and James, the gardener, were 
 respectable servants, and both fond of his 
 niece, he told Margaret she should remain 
 at the Hermitage for the present, and he 
 would leave her to settle the dismissal of the 
 other servants ; and he went his way back 
 to London, very thankful that, for a time at 
 least, he need not trouble himself further 
 about the girl. 
 
 Margaret Cressingham was thus left, at 
 fourteen, mistress of her own household ; and 
 she was extremely grateful for this privilege. 
 She never supposed there could be any ob- 
 jection to her being so left. Indulged and 
 spoiled from infancy, she had, as Dr. Grahame 
 had said, ruled her mother in most things, 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 1 8 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 and had her own way entirely. She had 
 always been a quick and practical child, and 
 had early begun to use her own individual 
 judgment in every contingency, and, petted 
 and praised invariably, she seldom experienced 
 any unpleasant doubts of her own capacity 
 for business. Green and the nurse admired 
 her quickness, her mother yielded to her 
 earnest arguments, and Jesse, her boy servant, 
 literally worshipped her. No one ever pointed 
 out to her her mistakes, while she had not 
 only a quick perception of what was right, 
 but a great facility for adopting the opinions 
 of others, and believing them to be her own, 
 and acting on them as such. Her mother 
 and Green often directed her judgment with- 
 out her recognising it ; and when, by some 
 chance, any other person had started an idea 
 in her mind, her mother usually allowed her 
 to follow her own desires unchallenged, even 
 though they might not be the wisest possible. 
 Jesse's advent in the household was the result 
 of May's following her own judgment, or in 
 other words, the suggestion of some one else 
 than her mother and Green. Mrs. Cressins^-
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 1 9 
 
 ham was, for the two years preceding her death, 
 unable to walk more than a few yards ; and 
 wishing to be in the open air as much as 
 possible, she sent to Enderby for a garden 
 chair with broad wheels, that could either be 
 drawn on the road by a pony, or pushed 
 along by hand on the sands. This done. 
 May had to find a boy to lead the pony, or 
 push the chair, as might be required. Green 
 thought that at the village school, the desired 
 boy might be found, and advised her young 
 lady to go there ; but May, not liking the 
 schoolmaster, who was of a surly temper, 
 disregarded Green's suggestion, and passing 
 the schoolhouse door, went on to the village 
 shop, not to buy there the article required, 
 but to learn information respecting it. 
 
 The village of Sandmouth possessed only 
 one draper's shop ; and the owners of it, Josiah 
 Freeman and his wife, held no inconsiderable 
 place in the native aristocracy, and ranked 
 next to Mr. Lockwood, fisherman and ship- 
 owner, and the butcher. He was also a corn 
 chandler and coal merchant, and occupied two 
 shops contiguous to one another; the corn
 
 20 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 was in one shop, which was also the coal 
 office, and behind that was the ordinary 
 living room of the family ; whilst communi- 
 cating with this room, but behind the drapery 
 establishment, was the room — parlour and bed- 
 room in one — of old Mrs. Freeman, Josiah's 
 grandmother, who was respected still more 
 than Josiah, in fact from whom he received 
 much of his importance. The old lady kept 
 her bed, her lower limbs being paralysed ; 
 but her eyesight was good, and her voice 
 clear and sound. Her room was scrupu- 
 lously neat, and bore evidences of comfort 
 and savings, in the presence of tea-trays 
 and pictures on the walls, workboxes. Bibles, 
 and china on tables, and a carpet over most 
 of the floor. There was also old mahog- 
 any furniture, well kept and polished, and 
 the old woman's pillows were covered with 
 fine linen. The room had two doors and 
 two windows : one door led to the large 
 parlour behind the corn shop, and the other 
 to a smaller room ; the window by the bed 
 looked over a little garden, and beyond that 
 over the churchyard, giving even a glimpse
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 2 1 
 
 of the sea ; and the other afforded a peep 
 into the dry-goods shop, which was a Uvely 
 prospect, as customers were going in and 
 out every ten minutes ; or friends were holding 
 a gossip with Mrs. Josiah Freeman, or Josiah 
 himself. Among all these doors and windows, 
 most invalids would have complained of 
 draughts and chills, but Mrs. Freeman never 
 had believed in such evils, and refused to 
 do so now, and she sat cheerfully knitting 
 in bed, with the door ajar and the curtains 
 drawn back from both windows, so as to 
 enjoy the sound of voices, the sight of her 
 grandson and his wife cutting cheeses and 
 calico, and the benefit of a cross light on 
 her work. 
 
 On the morning that Margaret Cressingham 
 went to ask her advice (May was always 
 a welcome visitor to the old woman, who 
 had lived in Rawlstone, and remembered 
 Churchill Cressingham), Mrs. Freeman was 
 knitting, with a quiet brow indeed, but there 
 were traces of tears on her cheeks ; her 
 Bible lay near her, and she looked like one 
 who has given thanks after great suffering.
 
 2 2 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 Josiah came in, in his shirt sleeves and 
 white apron, in one of the intervals of business ; 
 he led by the hand his youngest son, a 
 sturdy urchin of three years old, who was 
 sucking peppermint with all his might, and 
 holding with his disengaged hand an unlucky 
 kitten who had too imprudently listened to 
 the voice of the charmer, and suffered itself 
 to be grabbed. 
 
 " I hope you feel better, grannie, now 
 your mind is at ease about Jesse," said 
 Josiah as he came in. 
 
 "Oh, indeed I do, Josh. Thanks be to the 
 Lord ! What an escape the boy has had." 
 
 Josiah perched his little boy on a chair 
 by the old lady's pillow, and asked, " Where 
 is the lad ? is he still asleep ? " 
 
 Mrs. Freeman nodded assent, pointing with 
 her knitting needle at the closed door on the 
 other side of the room. 
 
 " It will be a pity if he does not let 
 this be a warning to him," said Josiah ; 
 " but I don't think as he will, grannie, if 
 you make such a fuss with him, now he is 
 come back."
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 23 
 
 It was just what the dutiful son said to 
 the father of the prodigal, and said in 
 much the same spirit. The old woman 
 siofhed, and answered, — 
 
 "Jesse is very sorry, — very sorry, Josh. 
 He says if you and I will excuse it, we 
 shall never have reason to blame him again." 
 
 *' Till next tirrte," said Josiah, sceptically. 
 
 " Oh no, Josh ; he will do better, indeed 
 he will. Many a boy has run off to sea, 
 and come home, and been a steady fellow 
 after all ; and Jesse did not only go but 
 for three days, and could not have told that 
 the wind would keep him out a week. You 
 can't call that running off to sea, you know." 
 
 " Oh I don't, and should think nothing 
 of it if you had not made such a fuss the 
 night of the gale," replied her grandson. 
 " Boys are boys. I ran off from school myself 
 once, and that is worse, perhaps, than going 
 out pleasuring in a fishing smack. I don't 
 
 mind. Only " He left the rest unsaid ; 
 
 Mrs. Freeman sighed, for the real trouble 
 was, as Josiah had said, not the fact of 
 Jesse's running off in his Sunday clothes, for
 
 24 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 a trip with some fishermen who dealt at 
 the shop, but in the evidences of a lawless 
 and wild spirit, which his brother and grand- 
 mother had long recognised, and of which 
 this escapade was but the last illustration. 
 The Freemans were of the yeoman class ; 
 they had lived inland, and owned cottages 
 and orchards, and looked on the sea as 
 an uncertain and lawless condition. But 
 now that they lived in a fishing village, it 
 was pretty evident that Jesse would take to 
 the sea unless some other excitement were 
 provided. He hated the shop, perhaps from 
 the consciousness that his brother did not 
 intend ever taking him into the business, to the 
 detriment of his own children. He refused 
 to go to the village school, and equally 
 declined his brother's offer of sending him to 
 a higher class of school in Enderby. 
 
 He wanted fun, and he meant to have it ; 
 and it was purely for fun that he had per- 
 suaded the master of a fishing smack to 
 take him aboard, and had run off one Sunday 
 afternoon, dressed in his best, to join him. The 
 trip had been lengthened by a gale of wind, and
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 25 
 
 Jesse had met cold and privation, and danger 
 to boot, and now had come home to find his 
 grandmother ill with anxiety on his behalf. 
 His taste for adventure had been satiated, 
 and he was very repentant ; but even in 
 his deepest repentance and promises of amend- 
 ment, nobody felt any security that his good 
 resolutions would last beyond the next 
 temptation ; so it was with a sigh Mrs. 
 Freeman said, ''Something may turn up, Josh. 
 We will try and get him into the country, 
 on a farm, and he will forget the sea." 
 
 " If he will go," said Josiah ; " but he 
 will be running off to sea from anywhere." 
 
 " There's some one come into the shop." 
 said Mrs. Freeman, as she unloosed the 
 little peppermint sucker's fingers from the 
 kitten's neck. 
 
 " It's the little lady from the Hermitage ; 
 you'll like to see her I suppose," said Josiah. 
 " I think I might buy the Hermitage, grannie, 
 if I could save another hundred or so. 
 Mrs. Cressingham would be a good tenant, 
 she would not fidget about repairs; but here 
 is Miss Margaret."
 
 26 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 May was at that time between twelve 
 and thirteen, and bright and Hvely with 
 health, looking very different to the pale, sad 
 girl her uncle met two years later. She 
 put on a very dignified and gracious air as she 
 came in. " How do you do, my dear ? 
 and how is your dear mamma ? " said the 
 old woman, receiving her with respectful 
 cordiality. Josiah placed a chair for the 
 young lady, with a great show of pleasure. 
 May was a personage of immense import- 
 ance to old Mrs. Freeman, who having 
 originally come from the neighbourhood of 
 Rawlstone, looked on Churchill Cressingham's 
 heiress as her rightful princess. Josiah, with 
 more practical wisdom, saw in her and her 
 mother his best customers, and, if he could 
 find money enough to buy the Hermitage, his 
 probable tenants ; and therefore he felt as 
 much interest in them as did his doting old 
 grandmother, but for a different reason. May 
 was always spending money at the shop, or 
 commissioning him to get articles from London ; 
 and when she came and sat an hour with 
 the old woman, it generally ended in her
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD, 27 
 
 findino- she "wanted somethino; or other, which 
 she bought or ordered before she went. So 
 Josiah was quite sincere in his respectful 
 appreciation of her visit ; and after placing a 
 chair for her, he went out into the shop. 
 
 May unfolded her perplexity to Mrs. Free- 
 man. 
 
 " Mamma is to have a pony-chair to go on 
 the beach, and I want a boy to lead it; and 
 I really came to you, Mrs. Freeman, because 
 you know all the people about, and who is 
 respectable, and who not. It is very light, 
 you know, and when the pony is not har- 
 nessed to it, it can be pushed by hand on 
 the sand quite easily. But we want a boy. 
 
 " Cannot James, your gardener, draw it 
 down to the beach, my dear ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but we cannot keep him there all 
 the morning to move it a few yards at a time, 
 you know ; and then we want things and books 
 fetched from the house ; we want a boy to stop 
 near us all the time ; not a common dirty boy, 
 you know, but some one nice, more like your 
 Jesse, you know." 
 
 May had not the least idea that Mrs.
 
 2 5 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 Freeman would propose Jesse; the Freemans 
 held their heads much too high to render it 
 likely they would ever let one of the family 
 be a domestic servant ; but it came suddenly 
 into the old lady's head, that if she could 
 employ her refractory grandson in this service, 
 it would be the means of keeping him out 
 of mischief for a month or two ; and she 
 asked quickly, "Would Jesse do?" 
 
 " Jesse ! oh, yes, if he could come — yes," 
 said May, much surprised ; "but I thought 
 he was in the shop." 
 
 " He does not like the shop, miss, and he 
 would be much contenteder minding your dear 
 mamma's chaise than carrying out parcels for 
 Josiah. I know he would like it, and it 
 would be no end of advantage to him, Miss 
 May, for he'd be out of mischief, and away 
 from the sailors and them boys of Lockwood's, 
 who teach him no good, and he might have 
 lime to learn a little writing from your gar- 
 dener, you know." 
 
 " Oh, I will teach him myself, if you like," 
 replied May, with easy patronage ; " and he 
 can come and see you every day, if you like."
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 29 
 
 " I don't know as that would be best, it 
 would be bringing him all amongst the fisher- 
 men. But here he is," said Mrs. Freeman, as 
 the inner door opened, and the young scape- 
 grace, yawning portentously, came in. " Jesse, 
 my boy, here's Miss Cressingham come down, 
 and her mamma wants some one to push 
 her chair about on the sands, and I have 
 thought you would like to do it." 
 
 The returned prodigal understood by the 
 tone in which this proposition was made, 
 that compliance with it was to be the first 
 proof of his penitence, so, however distaste- 
 ful the project, he avoided making any ob- 
 jection. " When am I to go ? " he asked, 
 after gulping down a very different rejoin- 
 der. 
 
 " Oh, as soon as Susan can get your clothes 
 in order," said Mrs. Freeman, and then hastily 
 changing the subject, which she thought (foolish 
 woman,) might be painful to the boy who had 
 so wantonly exposed a new Sunday suit to 
 the destructive influence of sea and storm, 
 she asked, " But Miss May, dear, your mamma 
 won't expect him to eat with the servants."
 
 30 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 May was at a loss what to reply. Truth to 
 say, she had intended to find a boy of a 
 somewhat inferior grade to Jesse, and had 
 made no provision in her own mind for the 
 present contingency. Necessity, however, 
 sharpened her wit, and after a moment's 
 hesitation, she answered, — 
 
 " Mamma's nurse, you know, never eats 
 with the servants. She has her dinner in 
 the little parlour, and he might have his 
 there too." 
 
 *' And he is to do nothing but wait on 
 your mamma, my dear — not help anybody, 
 either the cook or the parlour-maid." 
 
 " Oh, no, I suppose not," said May, quite 
 confounded, for she was yet perfectly ignorant 
 how the spirit of caste permeates the lowest 
 classes of English life. "He is only to wait 
 on mamma, and take letters and messages 
 sometimes, you know. And," she added, re- 
 covering her self-possession a little, /'as to^ 
 what he shall have, mamma will settle all 
 that is right and proper, you know." 
 
 " Oh, I know. Miss Cressingham, dear, I 
 only want to know he should do nothing
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 3 1 
 
 menial," said the old woman, dwelling with 
 marked disgust on the word that once used 
 to denote a special claim to tenderness and 
 indulgence towards the dependent. " I don't 
 mind his helping James in the garden, but 
 I should not like him to do anything 
 menial." 
 
 " Nothing at all," replied May, growing 
 more and more dignified, and as a servant 
 now appeared to take her home, she said 
 good-bye, and departed, exultant in the un- 
 looked-for acquisition of Jesse, and in her 
 own capacity for business. She walked home 
 briskly, only stopping by the way to buy 
 some shells, for which, as the vendor was 
 not one of her worshippers, she paid seventy- 
 five per cent, over and above their market 
 value, and returned home to report success. 
 
 Mrs. Cressingham was not so much pleased 
 when she heard of May's arrangement, and 
 was still less so when Josiah Freeman came 
 up to learn what wages would be offered to 
 his brother. He at first declined to name 
 any sum, leaving it, he said, to Mrs. Cress- 
 ingham's sense of what was fitting, and then
 
 32 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 when she insisted on knowing what he ex- 
 pected, asked an amount so extortionate that 
 Mrs. Cressingham, annoyed and tired, refused 
 to entertain the question of Jesse's coming 
 at all, and to May's great distress, sent away 
 Josiah, who returned to say at home that 
 the ladies had changed their minds. Old 
 Mrs. Freeman was at first not a little in- 
 dignant with her patrons, and then trebly 
 so with Josiah on learning the facts of the 
 case. 
 
 " You've never been making a trouble 
 about the money — it's a shame of you. Josh ; 
 as if it were a matter to trouble us, whether 
 the boy got any w^ages for a month or 
 two." 
 
 " I think it ought to be a matter to 
 signify to him," said Josiah doggedly; "he 
 costs enough, and many boys of his age are 
 doing something towards their maintenance." 
 
 Mrs. Freeman replied very warmly, and a 
 long altercation ensued; after which Jesse, who 
 was lounging by the fire, got up, and going 
 out, packed up his small belongings, and the 
 next morning presented himself at the Her-
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 33 
 
 mitage. May, who had been much chagrined 
 at the turn affairs had taken, came to the gate. 
 
 " I thought you were not coming, Jesse. 
 Mamma told your brother, not." 
 
 " Grannie told me yesterday I was to come, 
 and you told me so, miss, and Josiah has 
 nothing to do with my going or not." 
 
 " But we told him " Margaret was 
 
 silent a moment. 
 
 " You want to come yourself ? " — she asked 
 abruptly, — " and Mrs. Freeman ? " 
 
 " She wants me to come, miss. I don't 
 care. I want to go to sea, but she promised 
 I should come ; and she is sore vexed Josh 
 came up and interfered, he had no call to 
 do it." 
 
 Margaret sent Jesse to the kitchen to have 
 some breakfast, and went to her mother to 
 plead his cause, or, rather, her own and that 
 of her crony Mrs. Freeman. Her arguments 
 were successful ; she was sent to negotiate 
 with the old lady, and Jesse entered the 
 service to which his grandmother had con- 
 demned him, and which he, accepting as penance 
 for his late misconduct, was resolved to endure 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 in defiance of Josiah. His duty consisted in 
 leading the pony for a couple of hours on 
 the shore, or waiting, lying on the sand at 
 a respectful distance while Mrs. Cressingham 
 read or worked, ready to fetch a book or 
 parasol from the house, or move the chair 
 back from the advancing tide. During this 
 time he was carving any stray bit of wood 
 that came to hand with his pocket-knife, or 
 throwing stones into the water, for reading 
 was no delight to him. 
 
 " Is it possible you do not care for a book ?" 
 said May. " Can't you read ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I can read, but I don't care to," 
 was the unpromising answer. " Thank you, 
 miss, for the book, all the same, but I don't 
 want it." 
 
 Margaret went back to her mother. " Is 
 it not strange, mamma, that such a nice 
 clever looking boy should hate books ? " 
 
 " My dear, he cannot perhaps read well 
 enough to enjoy it ; find him an easy story 
 book, and advise him to read it." 
 
 May selected a book that very afternoon, 
 and asked Jesse if he could read that.
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 35 
 
 " Oh yes, I can read that," the boy replied 
 scornfully. "I've been to school;" and he 
 read half a page, evincing by constant stum- 
 bling, and perfect indifference to stops, that 
 schooling was not, as our French neighbours 
 say, his forte. May was disgusted at so 
 much ignorance, and speedily resolved to 
 cure it. She did not ask her intended scholar 
 whether she should instruct him or not, but 
 with prompt decision swooped down upon 
 him at once. 
 
 " You must read to me out of this book, 
 Jesse. Spread that shawl on the sand for 
 me ; and now read." 
 
 And thus forced into the temple of learning, 
 Jesse read. He was doleful, and took no 
 interest in his task until May found a story 
 of shipwreck, at which his understanding 
 brightened up, and when narratives of foreign 
 adventure were handed to him, he applied 
 himself diligently to master their contents. 
 
 May taught him also tx) add up sums ac- 
 cording to the rules of the arithmetic books; 
 as to the logical why and because of each 
 process, that was unknown to herself; but as
 
 36 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 far as her knowledge went, she did her best 
 to improve her pupil's understanding ; while 
 he, on his side, brought her birds' nests and 
 dormice from the fields, bargained with the 
 fishermen for foreign shells for her, led her 
 pony through the most tangled and unknown 
 paths of Sandmouth woods, and was untiring 
 in his devotion to her. 
 
 Mrs. Cressingham, as time went on, kept 
 more to her sofa, and more seldom needed 
 Jesse's attendance with the garden-chaise; but 
 she was glad to send May out for distant 
 rambles, under such safe guardianship, and 
 was pleased to see her enjoying her young fresh 
 life, while she knew her own was fast ebbing 
 away. Margaret, poor ignorant child, fondly 
 believed her mother would get well ; and 
 made plans for the future, dreaming not 
 what the future was bringing forward. Mrs. 
 Cressingham complained ^ very little ; she 
 suffered less than she had done, and when 
 the autumn came round again, and the sea- 
 shore was no longer warm, May thought it 
 very natural that her mother should keep to her 
 sofa, and send her lonof walks in the woods
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 37 
 
 along with Jesse. Mrs. Cressingham had less 
 consciousness of her own danger than she had 
 had some months before ; a kind of lethargy was 
 stealing upon her, — she knew she was dying, but 
 she did not realise how fast death was coming ; 
 and she would not sadden her daughter by 
 the idea of her death, when that sorrow might 
 yet be a long way off. It was from Jesse, 
 that May first learned her mother was dying; 
 she had been persuading herself that the 
 S^reater indifference Mrs. Cressino^ham showed 
 about her long walks, and absences from her, 
 was the result of stronger health, and so had 
 tried to like it. Jesse knew, as the servants 
 all did, that a dull apathy was stealing over 
 her ; an indifference to all things ; a torpor 
 which, to them, seemed the sure precursor of 
 death. They took advantage of this indiffer- 
 ence to her daughter's presence, to keep May 
 as much as possible away from her, hoping 
 thus to make the poor girl feel the coming 
 separation less. Jesse heard his grandmother 
 say when he went to visit her, — 
 
 "It's a pity they keep it from her ; it 
 will only make it worse for her afterwards,
 
 38 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 if she thinks she has been neglecting of 
 her." And he was thinking of these words 
 when May said, — 
 
 " Do you think my mamma is better, 
 Jesse ? Shq never comes out now, but she 
 seems in less pain than she was." 
 
 " I'm afraid she'll never get better, Miss 
 May ; I'm afraid not." 
 
 The tone said what the words did not. 
 May started as if struck by an actual blow 
 from an invisible hand, looked in his face 
 a moment, and then turned away. Jesse 
 stood and watched her : it was not for him 
 to offer consolation, he knew the distance 
 between them. But at last he went up to 
 her. 
 
 " Come, Miss May, it is late, and if you 
 stop later your mamma will be anxious ; 
 come home." 
 
 May went home ; but from that day she 
 hardly quitted her mother's side. Sometimes 
 the servants wiled her out on various pretexts; 
 once Jesse begged her to come down to see 
 a boat-house he had built, and to say whether 
 an old boat lying there should be repaired
 
 GUARDIAN AND WARD. 39 
 
 and painted. They all feared that the young 
 girl's health would fail in her close attendance 
 in the sick room; but the end was nearer 
 than they supposed. Life did not last long 
 after the mother's interest in her child's 
 outgoings and incomings had ceased, and 
 she died one morning, about three weeks 
 from the time when May first learned her 
 daneer.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ONLY A SERVANT. 
 
 When May asked her uncle to let her 
 arrange her own housekeeping difficulties, 
 she followed her instinct of self-dependence, 
 rather than any well-reasoned principles of 
 action. If, in her sorrow, she had been 
 able to think of her own future, she would 
 have seen, that to keep Jesse at the Her- 
 mitage was almost a necessity for her. 
 Without him she could not continue her 
 long walks or rides, or have the boat, 
 which had been a great delight to her. 
 But she did not think about this. She 
 only knew she felt less unhappy when 
 he was talking to her, and directing her 
 attention to the se* and the garden, and 
 that she felt less lonely when he was by. 
 She knew that Green was fond of her, but 
 she intuitively felt that Jesse was fonder 
 still ; and she had feared from the moment 
 her uncle came, that he might tell him t<-
 
 ONLY A SERVANT. 4 1 
 
 go away. When he spoke of reducing the 
 number of servants, she grew desperate, 
 and, following a sudden suggestion of childish 
 cunning, or woman's wit, asked to be left 
 to dismiss the supernumerary servants herself 
 The permission was given, and she felt inex- 
 pressibly relieved. As soon as her uncle went 
 home, she unfolded her projects to Green. 
 
 " Now Greenie, dear, if Jane and nurse go, 
 cook had better go too ; you can do all the 
 cooking you and I shall want, can't you ? 
 I'll help you to make our beds. I can do 
 my own room, and Jesse will stop and 
 clean the knives for you, and fetch water 
 and coal, and help you in everything, when 
 James can't; and then, if Jesse stops, I can 
 still have my pony and the boat, and I 
 should be ill without." 
 
 And Green, won over by coaxing and kiss- 
 ing, and having a great dislike of the cook, 
 as an intermeddler between her and the 
 gardener when he came into the kitchen, 
 assented to the proposal. 
 
 " It's astonishing what sense that poor 
 child has," she said to James. " I was
 
 42 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 thinking myself, what would she do, shut 
 up here in the garden, and no one to go 
 out with. I couldn't go long walks with 
 her, nor could you go for hours leading 
 that pony. She'd have been ill with moping, 
 and now it will be a blessing to see her 
 going out for those long walks, and coming 
 home rosy, as she used to ; I'm surprised 
 she should have thought of it, but it's the 
 best thing to keep Jesse." 
 
 And so James thought, and so Jesse 
 thought also ; he had delighted old Mrs. 
 Freeman by telling her he was having lessons 
 from Miss Cressingham, and he did not deem 
 it necessary to mention that he now conde- 
 scended to clean shoes and knives, lest the 
 old lady's pride should take umbrage at this 
 indignity. He was content to do any kind of 
 work, so long as he could remain at the 
 Hermitage, and was almost furious with his 
 brother, who counselled him to ask for higher 
 wages. 
 
 "Just as if I was a servant," he exclaimed 
 angrily. " I stop there because I love her ; 
 if her uncle were to offer me a hundred
 
 ONLY A SERVANT. 43 
 
 guineas, it would make no difference to 
 me." 
 
 "Some day you'll think different," said 
 Mr. Freeman "when, you find you are 
 grown up, and got no start in life. I'd put 
 you to school if you would go ; for schooling 
 will help you more than anything to get on 
 and get money." 
 
 " If I want money, I'll earn it in the way 
 I choose," said Jesse. " Master Lockwood 
 will take me with him, I am certain, when I ask 
 him ; but I'll stop with Miss May as long as 
 I can be any good to her." 
 
 That he was of good to her nobody doubted, 
 as they saw his devoted attendance on her 
 in her long walks, and observed the healthy 
 colour gradually come back to her cheeks, or 
 saw her intense enjoyment of a row on the 
 fresh, health-breathing sea. The chair-chaise 
 had been sent back to Enderby, but the 
 pony still remained, and May rambled over 
 hill and dale, sometimes for the whole day ; 
 Green feeling perfectly easy that she could 
 come to no hurt, as long as Jesse was with 
 her and promised to take good care of her.
 
 44 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 Early in the morning they set off for the 
 ride, with dinner in a basket, borne on 
 May's knee, and returning during the after- 
 noon, they put the pony into the paddock, 
 went down to the boat and sat in it, moored 
 at the landing-place, if Jesse were tired 
 with his long walk, and did not care to 
 row. When the summer came and the 
 sun was hot and the lanes dusty, they left 
 the walks and rides till evening, and sat 
 all day in the boat. 
 
 In the evening, May would have her tea 
 in the drawing-room in dignity and propriety, 
 as became the mistress of the house ; but 
 as soon as she had finished it she sum- 
 moned Jesse to the parlour, in the new 
 character of pupil, for she had again taken 
 his education in hand, and with an energy 
 that would have produced some effects if 
 the books at the Hermitage had been selected 
 for mental improvement, or any older head 
 had been there to suorcrest some method of 
 teaching. 
 
 But the literature at the Hermitage con- 
 sisted either of novels, or of serious and
 
 ONLY A SERVANT. 45 
 
 reflective works, of which Mrs. Cressingham • 
 was fond, and May's lesson-books. These 
 last might have been useful to Jesse, but 
 May rejected them, and thinking he might 
 learn reading as well from Scott as from 
 Mrs. Markham, and finding it pleasanteir to 
 make him understand Ivanhoe than Mangnall, 
 locked up the scholastic worthies along with 
 the sermons, and resolved to combine amuse- 
 ment with instruction ; so that Jesse's studies 
 were more agreeable than profitable. More- 
 over, he read so slowly that when the 
 narrative became thrilling, she always took 
 the book from him and read aloud, so that 
 his improvement in reading was not so 
 rapid as could have been wished. 
 
 With the autumn, appeared another com- 
 panion for May, and he was one more 
 able to sympathise with her love of historical 
 romance. This was Lewis Grahame, the son of 
 the doctor who had attended Mrs. Cressingham, 
 and whose wife had been her constant friend. 
 Mrs. Grahame was now dead, and Margaret 
 rarely saw the doctor ; but he came over 
 in October, and brought Lewis, who had
 
 46 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 been at school at York, and had been ill, 
 and who was to stay at Sandmouth for the 
 benefit of the sea air. A lodging was found 
 for him at the postmaster's, but he spent 
 nearly all his day at the Hermitage. He 
 was then seventeen, and suited May, as a 
 companion, exactly. He had read all Scott's 
 novels and all G. P. R. James's, and could retail 
 the chief incidents of each for her edification. 
 He was captain of his school, and had end- 
 less stories of school frolics and iniquities 
 to glory in. He was a first-rate pedestrian, 
 and led her pony further than she had ever 
 been ; while Jesse walked at some distance 
 behind, " marvellous discontented," for he was 
 now no longer the friend, but only the groom. 
 Lewis had no objection to making a com- 
 panion of him when they two were alone 
 together, but he would not admit his equality 
 when May was present. It was only in the 
 boat that Jesse rose to any importance what- 
 ever. There he was master, and they were 
 obliged to' consider him and consult him ; 
 but they were very seldom in the boat, and 
 he felt neglected. He betook himself to the
 
 ONLY A SERVANT. 47 
 
 town, to find out his old friends, George 
 and John Lockwood, two stout lads, older 
 than himself, and went off for half the day 
 in a cockle-shell of a boat with them. When 
 he came to pay a visit to his old grand- 
 mother, his talk was of ships and tideways, 
 and he tried to ignore his relations with 
 the Hermitage. 
 
 "When are you going to come back to 
 us, Jesse?" Josiah asked one evening, as 
 they were sitting by the fire in old Mrs. 
 Freeman's room. 
 
 " When Miss Cressingham goes to London, 
 I can think of it," said Jesse ; and he broke 
 off into a whistle. 
 
 "You'd best be thinking of finding some- 
 thing else to do," said Josiah. " You could 
 have man's wages now. Dr. Grahame, at 
 Enderby, wants a gardener's boy." 
 
 " I am not going to take wages of Dr. 
 Grahame," said Jesse shortly. " Miss May 
 never scolds or orders me about; I don't 
 mind serving her, but I won't have' Lewis 
 Grahame making a servant of me." 
 
 " No, nor I don't want you to," responded
 
 48 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 his grandmother. "If you was to be gar- 
 dener's boy up at Churchill Park, — near my 
 old home, — well, I should not mind. Your 
 mother's father was gamekeeper up there 
 years back, and you might come to be 
 one of the head gardeners yourself." 
 
 " I only meant," observed Josiah quietly, 
 " that if Jesse likes to be a servant-lad now 
 he is seventeen, he had better look out for 
 higher wages, that's all ; if he wishes to be 
 something more than that, it's time he got 
 some schooling, or did something." 
 
 " Well, Josh, if you have got a venture 
 to send to the West Indies, suppose you 
 send me with it," said Jesse, with a mis- 
 chievous laugh. " But I won't be gardener's 
 boy to Dr. Grahame ; I'd rather work for 
 one of the farmers." 
 
 " Why, don't you like the doctor ? he is 
 a kind man," said old Mrs. Freeman. " Why, 
 his father were a farmer's son, and he got 
 rich, and sent his son to school, and now 
 he is a gentleman ; but many is the pot of 
 ale his father has had with your grandfather, 
 Josiah, at the King's Head at Yarmouth; for
 
 ONLY A SERVANT. 49 
 
 your grandfather was as good as he was, any 
 day ; and if he had grown rich, your father 
 might have had an education too, and you 
 might have been a doctor, or a gentleman, 
 too, like young Master Lewis." 
 
 " Young Lewis isn't no gentleman, as I see," 
 said Jesse, more warmly than grammatically. 
 
 "Heyday! what's in the lad?" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Josiah, who came in carrying a tray 
 with some eatables upon it. " What now ? 
 Youno- Master Lewis not a grentleman ? Here, 
 grannie, here's supper ; I hope it is nice. 
 Josiah, our supper is ready." 
 
 " I'm a-coming," replied her husband. 
 " Jesse, where do you see Master Lewis ? " 
 
 ''Oh, he comes and walks out with Miss 
 Cressingham sometimes," replied Jesse ; " and 
 gives himself airs like a real gentleman ; he 
 is a-sitting reading with her now, I'll be 
 bound, he always does of a Sunday evening." 
 
 " And what kind of fellow is he ? " in- 
 quired Josiah, as he arranged the supper-tray 
 before the old woman. 
 
 " Oh, a land-lubber," said Jesse, sharpen- 
 ing a knife on a fork diligently ; " talks 
 
 VOL. L E
 
 50 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 Greek and Latin, but he don't know one 
 end of. a boat from the other." 
 
 "Well, that does not make a man not a 
 gentleman, if he has had schooling," said 
 Mrs. Josiah. 
 
 " Any one can tell a real gentleman, born 
 and bred; and he is not one," said Jesse, 
 vindictively. 
 
 " Well, I have been in the world longer 
 than you," answered Josiah, "and I can't 
 always tell a gentleman born, though I think 
 I can tell when a man has had money to 
 spend for twenty years or so. That gives 
 him a look which the ' real gentleman born,' 
 as grannie calls him, generally has ; and 
 there's a good deal in features — a hand- 
 some face always looks gentleman-like, at 
 least folks think so. You, boy, or my 
 boys, if you could make a goodish bit of 
 money, could pass for gentlemen, I daresay." 
 
 " You don't think that Gerald and Henry 
 would ever look like gentlemen," cried Jesse, 
 sneeringly. " That they won't. Josh ; not 
 with all the schooling in the world, so you 
 need not think it."
 
 ONLY A SERVANT. 5 I 
 
 " Oh well, if they can't, they can't," said 
 Josiah, good-humouredly, and walking off to 
 his supper in the next room. Old Mrs. 
 Freeman laid her hand on Jesse's shoulder, 
 and said, — 
 
 "O my lad, if you would go to school 
 and learn a bit, it would give me such a 
 pleasure. I have a bit of money for you, 
 and you could go to the Grammar School 
 at Enderby, where gentlemen's sons are." 
 
 "And be kicked out and blackguarded 
 because my brother keeps a shop here," 
 answered Jesse, forcing a laugh to hide his 
 irritation. "No, grannie; I will stay with 
 Miss Cressingham, and when she goes I 
 must go and see the world ; I must go ; 
 I want to see America." 
 
 " He is put out to-night," old Mrs. Freeman 
 said to herself. " It's that young Master 
 Lewis been speaking rudely to him, perhaps." 
 
 It was Master Lewis who alone caused 
 Jesse's ill-humour. When he returned to 
 Enderby, Jesse recovered his former import- 
 ance and his good temper at the same 
 time. He coaxed his young mistress into 

 
 52 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 the boat every day, and wearied himself 
 out in rowing her up and down the shore, 
 or in leading the pony as far, or farther 
 than Lewis had done. In the evenings, 
 the lessons were resumed, and a fresh his- 
 torical novel produced, which Jesse began, 
 and May continued reading to him, to 
 encourage him to take more pains. He 
 wrote in a copy-book, and as she liked 
 reading aloud, she continued this exercise 
 while he wrote, and in time the two lessons 
 became merged in one: he copying diligently 
 at the table, and she sitting in an arm- 
 chair by the fire, reading aloud whatever 
 she judged likely to interest or improve her 
 scholar. The selection of subjects was more 
 adapted to the teacher's intellect than to the 
 pupil's ; but when he did not understand, 
 he asked no questions, but copied diligently. 
 
 " I wonder how it is," said May innocently, 
 "that you always write so much better when 
 I read poetry, than when I talk to you ; 
 this writing is very good, Jesse, — very good ; 
 but you must not copy my handwriting any 
 more, you should have a gentlemanly hand.
 
 ONLY A SERVANT. 53 
 
 Here, take this letter that my uncle sent 
 me, and copy his writing over and over 
 again. And now listen, I am going to begin 
 the story. It is about a king of France." 
 
 " Is it about a ship ? " asked Jesse, with- 
 out looking up from his writing. 
 
 " No ; you care for nothing but ships ; 
 you must hear something else. There was 
 a king of France who was very tyrannical, 
 and his nobles all hated him." May explained 
 at full length, but her pupil was not heeding. 
 He threw all his soul into his writing as soon 
 as he found there was no ship coming, and 
 she finished the book to herself. 
 
 Lewis came over from Enderby again during 
 the Christmas holidays, and presented him- 
 self every day at the Hermitage, where he 
 was always welcome. At the end of January 
 he was still in his old quarters at the post- 
 ofhce, and he walked with May every day, 
 and came every evening for a chat ; while 
 Jesse, frowning, had to take his writing-book 
 into the kitchen. He felt this degradation 
 keenly ; Green offered to hear him read, 
 but he rejected her kindness, and wrote in
 
 54 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 silence, copying over and over again some 
 letters of Mr. Halton's, which his mistress 
 gave him for examples. Every day May 
 accompanied Lewis in long rambles, while 
 Jesse had to follow at a distance, ready to 
 hold the pony if she got tired of riding it, or 
 carry the little lunch basket. He felt he was 
 nothing to her ; his sulkiness increased, and he 
 went every evening to cultivate his acquaint- 
 ances in the town. Josiah found him among 
 the fishermen, and brought him home with 
 him. Mrs. Freeman saw something was 
 rankling in the poor lad's mind, and begged 
 him to come and pass the next day with 
 them if he could be spared at the cottage. 
 
 " Oh you can be spared, I am sure," said 
 Josiah, as they sat down to supper. " What 
 is there for you to do ? Miss Cressingham 
 is rambling about all day over the country 
 with young Grahame, more's the pity." 
 
 " And I suppose she may do it if she 
 likes," said Jesse hotly. " What affair is that 
 of yours, Josh ? " 
 
 " None of mine, more than yours," replied 
 Josiah coolly. " Here, hold your mug if you
 
 ONLY A SERVANT. 55 
 
 want some more beer. But if I was Mr. 
 Halton, I would send her to school, to learn 
 things a young lady should know, and what 
 she should do." 
 
 ''She is a better judge of what she should 
 do, than you," said Jesse ; and feeling his 
 temper was growing too savage, he stuffed 
 his mouth full of cheese, and silenced himself 
 perforce. 
 
 But the next day, when May and Lewis told 
 him that he might lead the pony home, while 
 they went on a mile farther, he felt that 
 Josiah's observations were not at all too harsh, 
 and that his young lady's conduct was in the 
 highest degree unbecoming. He doubted 
 whether he should not suggest this to Green, 
 and advise her to counsel her mistress ; but 
 on second thoughts, he concluded that he 
 himself might be the better person to speak. 
 He was not, he considered, like Green, a 
 servant, he was more of a companion ; and 
 it was in the boat, where he felt himself most 
 of a companion and protector, that Jesse's 
 spirit waxed bold, and he spoke. May had 
 told him to row homeward, remarking that
 
 56 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 she was going out in the afternoon with 
 Lewis. Jesse rested on his oars, and said, — 
 
 " Miss May, I don't think your uncle, if he 
 was here, would like you to be going out so 
 much with Master Lewis ; you are a lady, 
 and he is not the kind of gentleman who can 
 take care of you." 
 
 "Jesse!" cried May indignantly, resenting 
 his interference. " Mind your own business ! 
 How dare you speak of what is proper for 
 me ! You don't know ; you are only a ser- 
 vant, and should not dare to judge of what I 
 do. Row the boat home," she added imperi- 
 ously. " Row home at once." 
 
 Poor Jesse was thunderstruck at this repl}- 
 from his young mistress, whom he had certainl)- 
 not wished to offend. But his pride was quite 
 as susceptible as hers. With a swelling heart 
 he answered, — ' I did not mean to be rude, 
 Miss May ; but indeed it is true, and other 
 people have said " 
 
 " You forget yourself, and who I am," 
 interrupted May, kindling in wrath. '' I do 
 not want to hear what you or any other 
 servant may "
 
 ONLY A SERVANT. 57 
 
 " Servant ! Miss May ! " said the lad in- 
 dignantly. '' I am not your servant." 
 
 Not ? May was for a moment, too much 
 astonished to speak ; and then her sense of 
 injured dignity coming to her aid, she 
 answered, — 
 
 "If you are not my servant, zu/m^ are 
 you ? I always thought you were ; but I 
 do not want to know what you think of 
 me at all. I have my friends, and I talk 
 to them about myself. Yes, I am a lady, 
 and you need not be my servant any longer 
 if you don't like." And then she caught 
 up a book that lay near her hand, and pre- 
 tended to read it. 
 
 Crimson with shame and anger, Jesse seized 
 his oars and pulled violently, till he reached 
 the little platform which he had built for a 
 landing-place. Lewis was there, and May 
 stepped out, and taking his arm, walked to 
 the house with him ; while Jesse, setting 
 his teeth in rage, threw his fury into his 
 rowing, and hurried his boat away towards 
 the town. 
 
 May and Lewis walked towards the house.
 
 58 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 "Has anything vexed you?" asked Lewis. 
 
 "No, hothing," said May angrily; "don't 
 talk of it." 
 
 " I won't then," said Lewis obediently. 
 " You looked so very like your cousin, 
 Edward Hal ton." 
 
 " Do I ? Why, how does he look ?" asked 
 May, very ready to change the current of 
 her thoughts. 
 
 "Edward? How? Why very like you, when 
 you are vexed," said Lewis laughing. "You 
 are very much alike. I have never told 
 you that I met your cousins when. I was 
 in London. They came to visit the people 
 I was with, Mr. and Mrs. Evanshaw ; and 
 I was so surprised to see them." 
 
 " Uncle John has no children, I know ; 
 they must have been my uncle Theodore's 
 then," said May. 
 
 " Oh yes, they were. Have you ever seen 
 your uncle Theodore ? " 
 
 " No, I have not. Oh, tell me about 
 them," said May eagerly; for she saw Lewis's 
 eyes brimful of fun. " Tell me really what 
 they are all like."
 
 ONLY A SERVANT. 59 
 
 " Well, he is the rummiest, joUiest old 
 chap I ever saw. He is always poking 
 about old skulls and bones, and flint-heads 
 for arrows, and such rubbish ; and talking 
 of men who lived before the flood, or 
 before Adam, — I forget which he said, — and 
 he puts one pair of spectacles on the top of 
 his head, and another pair over his eyesj so 
 that he looks just like a great owl with horns 
 on its head, or little ears, you know." 
 
 " You don't say that is my uncle ! And 
 what is Edward like ? " 
 
 " Oh, he is a nice fellow, but a bit of 
 a prig. I like him though. Then your 
 aunt is well enough ; she is kind-looking 
 and handsome." 
 
 "Uncle John's wife.-* Aunt Anne?" 
 
 " Oh no ; she is a horrid stuck-up thing, 
 all silk dress, and flounces, and gold 
 bracelets and stuff. I mean Dr. Halton's 
 wife, Edward's mother; your aunt Alice. 
 She is jolly, but she looks very ill. Then 
 there are two girls, younger than you ; 
 at least I think Gertrude is, and little 
 Florrie is quite a child. I told Edward
 
 6o WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 I knew you. He thought you lived at 
 Enderby." 
 
 " And Enderby Grange is my house, don't 
 you know ?" said May a little grandly. 
 
 " Shall you live there when the people 
 who live there now go away, then ? " 
 
 " Oh no. I should like to go back to 
 Rawlstone, it was so pretty. I can remem- 
 ber it so well. There were pine-trees there ; 
 and the house was so old and grey, and 
 perched on the cliffs, like a fortress guard- 
 ing all the shore." 
 
 " It must have been rather dismal in the 
 winter, during a storm ; a kind of garde 
 doulotireuscy said Lewis. 
 
 " Oh no, not all, I should think," said 
 May eagerly. " The pine-trees would keep 
 all the wind away. I remember the pine- 
 trees. Papa used to carry me out among 
 them, and let me pick cones off the lower 
 boughs ; and there were little fir-trees being 
 planted all about, as high as me, and all 
 green." 
 
 " Rawlstone is in Suffolk, is it not ? a 
 little south of Yarmouth?" said Lewis. " It
 
 ONLY A SERVANT. 6 1 
 
 must be a nice place ; but would not you 
 like to see Enderby Grange ? Shall we go 
 and see it to-morrow ? It is my last day 
 here but one, you know ; do come." 
 
 May assented, and asked Green to tell 
 Jesse to go to the Blue Lion at Sandmouth, 
 and order the one fly kept there to come 
 the next morning to take them to Enderby. 
 She was too angry with Jesse to see him 
 herself, and she was hardly surprised to find 
 the next morning that he had not come 
 home that night, and that no fly was ordered. 
 Lewis, however, took care to order it that 
 evening, when he went home to his lodgings, 
 and the next day they drove to Enderby. 
 It was a cold morning, and the wind whistled 
 shrill over the moor, and they were very 
 chill when they reached the Grange. How- 
 ever, they met a hearty welcome from the 
 tenant, a young farmer, who took them into 
 the parlour, and ordered luncheon for them, 
 and after they were well warmed by the roar- 
 ing fire, he took them out, and showed them 
 everything that could possibly interest them 
 on the place. Rick-yards, cattle-sheds, waggon-
 
 62 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 sheds, and barns, all were visited ; and May 
 began to feel that the owner of a farm must 
 be a personage of great importance. All 
 the labourers seemed to know she was the 
 mistress of the place, and touched their hats 
 as they passed by her; and the young 
 farmer himself appeared to think no trouble 
 too great to express his sense of her dig- 
 nity. He brought them back to the house, 
 and called his sister, a quiet, lady-like girl, 
 to show Miss Cressingham all the curious 
 old building ; and while she was viewing 
 this, he had a side-saddle put on a hand- 
 some pony, and volunteered to take her 
 though all the fields to the farther end of 
 the farm. He was, however, called away 
 on important business, and May had only 
 Lewis for her escort, and enjoyed her 
 progress much better in consequence ; for she 
 found it very difficult to keep up the extreme 
 dignity which she felt became the owner of 
 all these fields and rick-yards. It was plea- 
 santer to be alone with Lewis, and- talk 
 nonsense if she pleased. They went round 
 the farm and returned, and had a country
 
 ONLY A SERVANT. 63 
 
 tea pressed on them before they were al- 
 lowed to start for the long drive, which, 
 however, appeared much shorter to them 
 than when they came in the morning. 
 They drove to the Hermitage, and then 
 Lewis returned to Sandmouth, first saying 
 good-bye, for it was the last day of his stay, 
 and he could not hope to come back until 
 Easter.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 V£RY UNHAPPY. 
 
 May had come home imbued with a tre- 
 mendous sense of her dignity as an owner 
 of land, and the future mistress of Rawlstone, 
 which being, as she knew, far more important 
 than Enderby Grange, appeared to her im- 
 agination as a magnificent wilderness of 
 fields and woods, filled with rick-yards and 
 hay-stacks. She felt much excited at the 
 idea of having to overlook so much pro- 
 perty when she grew up, and with the energy 
 of fifteen, resolved to make haste and prepare 
 herself for this future responsibility. The 
 following morning she made a tour, en 
 chatelaine, round the garden and poultry-yard 
 of the Hermitage ; asked the gardener how 
 the pony was, and almost in the same 
 breath inquired if Jesse was come back. 
 
 "No," James said; and he did not think 
 he would, as he had sent a friend to take his 
 things away.
 
 VERY UNHAPPY. 65 
 
 " Gone ? Oh, he can't be gone ! " cried 
 May, in real distress, as she remembered 
 what she had said to him. 
 
 James made no reply, and went on hoeing, 
 and she had time to remember her new dig- 
 nity, and added, — 
 
 "He would hardly go without speaking to 
 me. I shall see about it;" and she went to 
 put on her hat, and walked down to the 
 town. She felt very uncomfortable ; her con- 
 science told her she had treated Jesse ill, and 
 though she was still very angry with him, 
 she hoped to find he was keeping away to 
 help Mr. Freeman in the shop, not because 
 he resented her treatment of him ; and she 
 revolved in her mind in what way she should 
 address him, so as to show she was conscious 
 of having had cause to complain, and yet was 
 willing to forget the past. Her heart went 
 rather fast as she entered the shop. Josiah 
 came forward quickly to the counter. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Freeman. I want 
 to know where Jesse is," she demanded, 
 with the air of a sheriff's officer asking the 
 same question. 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 Mr. Freeman did not suffer a muscle of 
 his face to move, while he answered, — 
 
 " I believe he is in Yarmouth, miss; but 
 he does not tell me anything of what he 
 is doing." 
 
 " Gone to Yarmouth !" May looked very 
 blank. "And when is he coming back ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know, Miss Cressingham. 
 He is full of whims and fancies ; his grand- 
 mother is fretting about him a good deal. 
 Would you like to see her ? " 
 
 "Yes. No; I think it would be no use. 
 Well, I should like to see her to know how 
 she is," said May; and she went in. Mrs. 
 Freeman looked very miserable, but she 
 made a feint of smiling as the young lady 
 came in, and said she was well. May asked 
 her of Jesse, adding, — 
 
 " I am surprised he should go without say- 
 ing anything to me." 
 
 " Did not you send him away then, my 
 dear ? " the old lady asked, looking at her 
 knitting, and not at her visitor. 
 
 " No, indeed," replied May ; " I should not 
 have thotjght of doing so. I had to speak
 
 VERY UNHAPPY. 67 
 
 — to blame him a little, he was rather im- 
 pertinent ; but I did not imagine he would 
 have taken it in that way." 
 
 " Oh, it is just like his way, miss," observed 
 Josiah. " If one speaks to him he sulks for 
 a month. I am very sorry you should have 
 had any annoyance, Miss Cressingham. Will 
 you come back into the shop ! I should like 
 to show you some new cheese.'' 
 
 Old Mrs. Freeman sniffed pretty loudly as 
 they went out, and her grandson thought it 
 better to apologise. 
 
 " She is rather put out, miss ; she wanted 
 Jesse, to remain with you, and she forgets 
 how ill-tempered he is at times. I hope you 
 will take no offence." 
 
 " Oh, none at all, Mr. Freeman," said May, 
 very glad to see he was on her side ; and 
 she went home much happier than she had 
 set out. But a week later she could not for- 
 bear questioning Green if she had heard any- 
 thing of the runaway. 
 
 " Yes, miss. James was last night at Mr. 
 Freeman's, and they had heard from Jesse, 
 and he was going to the West Indies."
 
 68 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 To the West Indies ! May stood aghast 
 at first, and then felt compunction and 
 real sorrow for her own conduct. He was 
 gone away for months, perhaps years, — he 
 who had been a kind and faithful friend to 
 her, — and gone because she had so un- 
 kindly taunted him with his inferior position. 
 In her grief and repentance, May forgot 
 all her pride, and went to see old Mrs. 
 Freeman, and try and console her for Jesse's 
 loss. 
 
 " Oh, Miss May, I shall never see him 
 ao^ain, — never as^ain!" was her moan ; and 
 neither her grandson nor May could comfort 
 her by their assurances that the West Indies 
 are not very far off, and that she would 
 live a long time yet. 
 
 " It is no use your coming to try and 
 reason with her, miss; though it's very good 
 of you," Josiah said one day, when May 
 came. " She will fret over the boy, though 
 it is the very best thing he could do. 
 No offence to you, miss, but I was sorry 
 to see him wasting his time helping your 
 cook, and leading your pony. It was time
 
 VERY , UNHAPPY. 69 
 
 he should be doing something to make his 
 own fortune." 
 
 " I am glad you think that," said May, 
 feeling much comforted by the hope that 
 Jesse would be better off in the end for 
 her temporary harshness. Old Mrs. Freeman 
 was indignant with Josiah for the care he 
 took to soothe the young lady's feelings. 
 
 " Doing something to better himself, die 
 you say, Josh ? it's a lie, then. How is 
 going out as a common sailor-boy to better 
 his fortunes ? If you had "sent him with a 
 venture to Australia, it might have started 
 him in business ; but being a sailor won't 
 help him on; and you know it won't." 
 
 " I had not the money to start him in 
 business, grannie; I wish I had;' said Josiah, 
 laughing. " I'd have sent him to school if 
 he would have gone, and that would have 
 been the kindest thing to have done by him." 
 
 " Yes ; but why do you tell Miss May 
 she has done kindly by him, in saying the 
 words as drove him off, when it's to his 
 ruin maybe, and you telling her it is for 
 his good."
 
 70 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 "Well, why should I make Miss Cressingham 
 unhappy about him, and drive her away from 
 my shop, when it can do no good?" 
 
 "There you are, Josiah; money, money, is 
 the word with you ; you prefer your shop to 
 your own flesh and blood." 
 
 " Indeed, it is for my own flesh and blood 
 I value my shop; I've five children, and if I 
 want to get them on in the world I must 
 look to money, I think, and not quarrel with 
 my best customers." 
 
 And Mr. Freeman repeated this sentiment 
 triumphantly more than once, when he re- 
 ceived an order for coals and corn, which had 
 hitherto been supplied to the Hermitage from 
 Enderby ; and also when Miss Cressingham 
 commissioned him to get from London, be- 
 sides silk and crape, hearthrugs and carpet, and 
 nearly a hundred yards of calico and flannel. 
 For, after reading all the novels in the house. 
 May had discovered that making clothes for 
 the poor, would be the right occupation for 
 her. She was, in truth, very lonely with- 
 out Jesse, especially as her walks were cir- 
 cumscribed by Green to the circle of one
 
 VERY UNHAPPY. 7 1 
 
 mile from the Hermitage, and she was living 
 among people who believed that making 
 clothes for the poor was a work of merit. 
 Mr. Halton might have suggested, that if 
 half the money were expended on the calico, 
 and the other half given to some unemployed 
 woman for making it up, as much good might 
 be done to the poor, and the clothes be 
 better made. But this view of the case did 
 not occur to his niece, and she stitched un- 
 ceasingly as she sat on the shore, enjoying 
 both the consciousness of doinof a o-ood deed, 
 and that delicious mental idleness that makes 
 unlimited needlework almost as dangerous for 
 a mr\ of sixteen, as unlimited cig^ars are for 
 her brother. 
 
 It was a relief to her loneliness when mid- 
 summer came, and Lewis with it ; but he 
 could only make short visits. He had left 
 school, and was studying hard, preparing 
 himself to go out to learn railway engineer- 
 ing with his uncle, who was in Spain ; and 
 he could only come to Sandmouth for a 
 few hours at a time. There was a coach 
 that left Enderby every morning and
 
 72 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 returned in the afternoon ; and by that 
 coach he came every now and then, and 
 after spending some hours at the Hermitage, 
 he exercised his pedestrian powers by walk- 
 ing back to Enderby ; but his visits were 
 like angels', few and far between, and May 
 found time hang very heavy on her hands. 
 
 Old Mrs. Freeman was slowly growing 
 weaker, and her eyesight was failing, so that 
 she was grateful for any one to read to her 
 what she emphatically called " a chapter ; " and 
 May found herself going there day after day, 
 to read or talk with her. She was glad 
 to be useful to her old friend, partly out 
 of affection for her, and partly from her 
 half-acknowledged sense of responsibility in 
 Jesse's absence, at this time, when he would 
 have been a great comfort to his old grand 
 mother. As to his going away, she told 
 herself she was not to blame ; she had only 
 spoken as became her own position, and 
 his unwarrantable* presumption; but still, when 
 sitting by Mrs. Freeman's window, she per- 
 ceived the distant sea-line break into foam- 
 caps, and saw the poor woman listening to
 
 VERY UNHAPPY. 73 
 
 the rising wind, she felt she must try to 
 comfort and cheer her in Jesse's absence. 
 
 One morning, after the violence of the 
 storm had kept her awake all night, she 
 insisted, much to Green's amazement, in 
 struggling down through the wind and rain 
 to the shop, to persuade Mrs. Freeman 
 that tempests never blow on both sides of 
 the world at once, and that, therefore, it 
 must be fair weather where Jesse was. 
 
 " Would you mind reading the prayers 
 about ships. Miss Cressingham, dear?" was 
 the old .woman's reply. "It's there, where 
 I've turned the page down, but I can't see 
 to read it." 
 
 'May read it, and inwardly prayed that 
 Jesse might come back, and tell her that 
 he had not gone away merely because she 
 was unkind to him. 
 
 " I wonder if he would have stopped if 
 I had asked him," she said aloud ; but there 
 was no reply. " He must be grown quite 
 a man now, Mrs. Freeman." 
 
 " Yes, if he be alive," said the old lady, 
 dropping even her knitting, as the wind
 
 74 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 burst against the house with a sound as if 
 of an explosion, and then was heard sweeping 
 over the trees in the inn garden opposite. 
 
 " Oh ! do you think he went because of 
 what I said to him ? It was so Httle. I 
 ion't think it could have been," said May, 
 in deep distress. "He would have come back 
 again, if it had been for that he went away." 
 
 " Oh, no, Miss May, he would not. He 
 said he would never come back for you to 
 call him a servant, when he had kept away 
 from sea so long, and worked at anything 
 you wanted, just to please you." 
 
 " Then that was very unreasonable, Mrs. 
 Freeman," said May, struggling hard for com- 
 posure ; " very foolish and wrong, and I am 
 glad you never told me that before." And 
 she fairly burst into tears at the thought of 
 her playmate in danger, and at the memory 
 of her own unkind words. She knew she 
 had sorely wounded him; she had meant to 
 do it, and she had succeeded but too well, 
 and now she repented bitterly. She knew 
 well enough when she spoke to him, that he 
 had never considered himself a servant and
 
 VERY UNHAPPY. 75 
 
 dependent, and that he had stayed at the 
 cottage, waiting on all her whims, only because 
 he loved her, and thought she wanted his 
 services. He had as much right as any one 
 to express his dissatisfaction at anything she 
 had done. It had been a mere instinct of 
 pride that made her rebuke him as she 
 had done; and many were the tears she 
 shed over the reflection that he was now 
 in danger, in consequence of her unkindness 
 and ingratitude. The sorrow these reflec- 
 tions caused her produced a rather salutary 
 effect on May, and for a little time made 
 her endeavour to conquer both her pride and 
 temper; and perhaps, if Mr. Halton had at 
 this time placed her in a good school, or 
 brought her home to his wife's care, the 
 self-willed girl might have been gently trained 
 into a reasonable and patient woman. But it 
 was May's fate to learn the lessons of humil- 
 ity and submission through a hard struggle, 
 and her guardian incurred a heavy responsi- 
 bility in leaving her to herself He was 
 sowing the wind, and unhappily she, as well 
 as he, would have to reap the whirlwind.
 
 76 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 Mr. Halton had asked his brother and 
 sister-in-law to take charge of his ward; but 
 they were still abroad, and advised him to 
 find a good school for her without delay. 
 Mr. Halton knew this advice was sound ; 
 but it was a great effort to him to find this 
 unexceptionable school. May too, wrote to 
 him, begging him not to take her away from 
 the Hermitage, quoting Dr. Grahame's opinion, 
 that the sea air was necessary for her health. 
 Mr. Halton did not stop to inquire if this 
 were a really gravely expressed opinion of 
 the doctor, but accepted the theory because 
 it was easier for him to leave his niece at 
 Sandmouth for the present. And as a com-' 
 promise between the course he knew he ought 
 to take, and the course he had hitherto taken, 
 he engaged a governess for her. An ac- 
 quaintance of his wife's was just at this time 
 anxious to recommend a governess, and Mr. 
 Halton, observing that Margaret could not 
 want a very clever teacher as yet, engaged 
 the lady without more delay, and sent her 
 down to the Hermitage, where she soon 
 made herself thoroughly detested by her pupil.
 
 VERY UNHAPPY. "]"] 
 
 and by every one else who had anything to 
 do with her. Miss Primer's first colHsion was 
 with Josiah Freeman. He had recently bought 
 the Hermitage ; it had been in the market 
 for a very low sum, and having saved a few 
 hundreds, he could not resist the temptation 
 of buying it, although he had to borrow 
 money to complete the purchase. Miss 
 Primer had not been a week at the Hermit- 
 age before she discovered that the house was 
 thoroughly out of repair, and in her zeal for 
 her employer's interests, she insisted on Mr. 
 Freeman's setting it completely to rights. 
 Josiah found, on examining the terms of the 
 agreement made by the late owner with Mrs. 
 Cressingham, that he was bound to keep the 
 house in thorough repair, and saw himself 
 involved in considerable expense thereby. 
 He had already found that his new purchase 
 was a mistake ; for he had incurred heavy 
 losses in his business, and wanted the hun- 
 dreds he had spent on it. He had had to 
 raise money to complete the purchase by 
 mortgage, and now had to procure more by 
 a second on his own house and shop. He
 
 78 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 had now to new roof it, and make other 
 repairs, and in his uneasy financial position 
 found his late acquisition likely to prove a mill- 
 stone round his neck, and he cordially hated 
 the governess for her zeal in Mr. Halton's 
 behalf. 
 
 May had welcomed Miss Primer with rap- 
 tures, but soon began to wish her far away. 
 A less congenial companion could hardly 
 have been selected for her. She was too 
 superficially instructed herself to make study 
 agreeable to her pupil, and too ill-tempered 
 to allow her to enjoy idleness happily. She 
 was in a fever of perpetual fret with Green, 
 and vented her displeasure with her, upon 
 May, whom she worried almost into illness 
 by her continued reproof and criticism. 
 Downright blame she rarely tried, because 
 her pupil's unruly spirit revolted against it, 
 for May would leave the house and wander 
 along the shore for many hours, until James 
 and Green would come out, and partly per- 
 suade and partly compel her to return ; or 
 she would go down to Sandmouth, and sit 
 in the back parlour behind the shop until
 
 VERY UNHAPPY. 79 
 
 it grew dark, and Mrs. Freeman, suspecting 
 the state of affairs, told Josiah to take her 
 home himself. After a dozen experiments 
 of this kind, the governess thought it wisest 
 to avoid further contests with her pupil, 
 and made no further efforts to control 
 or teach her, but wrote her own letters, 
 and made her own gowns, while May read 
 novels, and stories of travels and voyages, 
 and wondered when Jesse would come back. 
 The winter had come in with storms of 
 unusual violence, and her self-reproach on 
 Jesse's account was very keen. Every week 
 brought news of shipwrecks and disasters, 
 and she could think of little else but him. 
 When Lewis came she could fororet her 
 
 o 
 
 secret anxiety, but as soon as she was again 
 left alone with Miss Primer's unsympathetic 
 companionship, the painful recollection would 
 return again. 
 
 " Oh, do come again, Lewis ; we are so dull 
 without you," she said plaintively, when he 
 was saying good-bye. "We have nothing but 
 such sad stories about the coasters being 
 sunk, to think of; and I am so miserable."
 
 8o WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " I'll come again before long. But I 
 must go this minute," said Lewis. " I shall 
 not catch the coach if I don't, and it is 
 not an evening to find a walk to Enderby 
 a nice thing." 
 
 " I will walk with you to the Blue Lion," 
 said May; and as Miss Primer made an 
 objection, she insisted on going, even al- 
 though Lewis observed, — 
 
 "You will have a wet walk home if you 
 do. There will be a gale to-night." 
 
 " There is always a gale now," said May. 
 "It is so sad to hear of the wrecks."* Not 
 for the world would she have spoken of 
 Jesse, lest Lewis should ask why he went 
 away. 
 
 "Ah! but for wrecks, the. garde doiclotcrctise 
 would be the place to live at," said Lewis. 
 
 " Don't call it garde doidonreiise,'' replied 
 May pettishly. " I wish I were there now." 
 
 "Well then, Rawlstone Hall would be 
 the place to hear of shipwrecks in. It is 
 near Corton Roads, and Jesse Freeman said 
 there were once two hundred lighters lost 
 there in one storm."
 
 VERY UNHAPPY. 8 I 
 
 May glanced at the dull, leaden-coloured, 
 tumbling water, and shivered. 
 
 " You had better go back before the 
 wind gets stronger," said Lewis considerately. 
 
 But no; May chose to go on, and after 
 bidding him good-bye at the door of the 
 Blue Lion Inn, where the coach was waiting, 
 she crossed the street, and paid a visit to 
 Mrs. Freeman. 
 
 " Have you had a letter ? " she asked 
 anxiously ; for it was now more than three 
 months since they had heard from Jesse, 
 and he h^d written to say he was sailing 
 to Australia. 
 
 Mrs. Freeman shook her head. 
 
 " No, not yet. I cannot think why the 
 boy don't write." 
 
 "Boy! Why he must be a man now," 
 said Mrs. Josiah cheerily. ** Don't go fancy- 
 ing mischief about him. He can't be blown 
 away by the wind like a feather. Eh, Lord! 
 what is that ! " she cried, as a tremendous 
 burst of wind struck the side of the house, 
 and seemed to shake it to it's very foun- 
 dations. 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " Bolt the doors, and put up the shutters,' 
 cried Josiah to the shop-boy. " It is a 
 tempest coming." 
 
 There was a shouting in the street, and a 
 noise as of men hurrying past down to the 
 beach. May guessed that one of the hghters 
 anchored off the town was already in diffi- 
 culty. The shutters were put up to protect 
 the shop windows that looked towards the 
 wind ; but nothing could shut out the light- 
 ning, which flashed through every crevice. 
 May saw the look of despair on Mrs. Free- 
 man's face, and knew what she was thinking 
 of. 
 
 " I daresay Jesse is now in a calm some- 
 where. I daresay his captain is longing for 
 wind," she said. " Whereabouts is he now, 
 I wonder?" 
 
 "You can't be going home, Miss Cressing- 
 ham," was said by Mrs. Josiah, after a long 
 silence, during which they all listened to the 
 wild whistling of the wind. " Will you stop 
 and have a bit of supper with grannie ? " 
 
 May stayed very willingly. Mrs. Josiah 
 brought in' a tray, set out rather ostentatiously
 
 VERY UNHAPPY. 83 
 
 with silver spoons and cut glass. She was 
 followed into the room by her little girl, old 
 Mrs. Freeman's especial pet. 
 
 " There, Lucy, sit by your grannie's bed, 
 and tell her not to worry herself," said Mrs. 
 Josiah. " There is no need to be thinking of 
 Jesse every time the wind blows. It is fair 
 weather, most like, where he is now, ain't 
 it, Miss Cressingham ? " 
 
 May agreed that it was most probable ; 
 but as the uproar without continued, she 
 found it very difficult to think Jesse was 
 safely sailing on a smooth sea, and Mrs. 
 Freeman gave up the attempt altogether. 
 The gale increased, and her terrors increased 
 every hour, while listening to it. At dusk, 
 James, the gardener, appeared, but not to 
 escort May home ; he had got quite wet 
 through in coming, and said she must stop 
 where she was that night, if Mrs. Freeman 
 could manage it. 
 
 " Certainly," said Mrs. Josiah ; " if she 
 can sleep in the little room where Lucy is ; 
 and I'll take Lucy upstairs." 
 
 So Lucy's bed in the little cupboard room
 
 84 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 adjoining that of Mrs. Freeman, was prepared 
 for May, and James departed. 
 
 " It's an awful night," he said to Josiah, 
 as he went out. " There are three colHers 
 ashore between here and Rockhead, and 
 they say a brig has foundered out by the 
 diff." 
 
 May closed the door to shut out his 
 words. 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Freeman, shall I read to 
 you ? " she asked, with a desperate effort at 
 cheerfulness. " What shall it be ? here is 
 the newspaper." 
 
 " Read the prayers for them out at sea, 
 my dear," said the poor woman, shivering ; 
 and May shivered herself as she heard the 
 wind shake the casement. She went for 
 the Prayer- Book. It was with difficulty she 
 commanded her voice. 
 
 " Thou, O Lord, that stillest the raging of 
 the sea, hear, hear us and save us, that we 
 perish not," 
 
 But as she read, a vision of splitting sails 
 and rending spars came before her, and she 
 hid her face on the bed.
 
 VERY UNHAPPY. 85 
 
 "My dear, don't stay here with me," said 
 Mrs. Freeman. May obeyed, and went to 
 the Httle room assigned to her, but she could 
 not sleep.. The lightning glared into the 
 unshuttered window, and the wind from the 
 chimney shook the bed-curtains, and blew 
 down the strings of shells and seaweeds 
 Jesse had long ago hung over the mantel- 
 shelf May got up — she had not undressed 
 — and sat on the bed, listening to the heavy 
 shock of the waves on the beach, and the 
 shouts and cries of the men engaged in saving 
 the boats. 
 
 "Hear us and save us, that we perish not," 
 repeated the girl, over and over again, while 
 she gathered up fondly the scattered shells 
 that lay on the floor. At last she went back 
 to Mrs. Freeman, and found her sobbing, and 
 Mrs. Josiah trying vainly to comfort her. 
 
 •' Come, grannie, if it is so, and the boy 
 is drowned, it's the Lord's will, and you 
 must take it so, and it is better he should go 
 now, young and innocent as he is, rather 
 than live among the sailors and learn all 
 their wickedness, and be as one of those 
 that perish everlastingly."
 
 86 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 This was poor comfort. May went back to 
 her cupboard again, and thought of Jesse, 
 and listened to the wind till the morning came. 
 Tlie tempest did not abate with the daylight. 
 It was not till the end of the day that the 
 gardener could come and take her home, 
 during a temporary lull ; but the gale lasted 
 three days longer, and during that time May 
 could attend to nothing. Miss Primer was 
 vexed; but her pupil was beyond her control, 
 and she solaced herself with her needle, and 
 with fretting and scolding Green.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ON THE BEACH. 
 
 It was the determined hostility of the gover- 
 ness to Green that at last provoked May 
 to flat rebellion. Miss Primer's power of 
 annoying her pupil was limited, for May could 
 escape on to the beach, and stay there, re- 
 gardless of rain or cold ; but she persecuted 
 the poor housekeeper with unremitting cen- 
 sure and complaint, and at last dismissed 
 her summarily from her pupil's service. May 
 remonstrated and implored by turns, but Miss 
 Primer would not be moved, and at last 
 May rose in revolt. 
 
 "It is too much to bear, and I will not 
 have it," she said, with flashing eyes and 
 flaming cheek. "In my own house I will 
 keep my own servants ; my uncle said I 
 might, and Green shall not 8fo. You can 
 stay here, Miss Primer, if you like, but Green 
 shall stay too, and no one shall give her
 
 88 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 any orders but me, and she shall do all 
 she thinks right." 
 
 After hearing this, Miss Primer thought 
 it necessary for her dignity to go ; and 
 finding a home that suited her much better, 
 she made no appeal to Mr. Halton. May 
 wrote her own version of the matter to her 
 uncle. 
 
 " I did not want to vex her, but I could not 
 let her be so ill-tempered to my servant; 
 and I am very glad she is gone, for she 
 was very unkind to me, and was very angry 
 when I went to read to dear old Mrs. 
 Freeman, or made clothes for the poor. I 
 wish you would send me some nice young 
 lady, whom I can like." 
 
 " Whom you can bully, you mean," ob- 
 served old Mr. Evanshaw, to whom Mr. 
 Halton showed this epistle. " Mr. Halton, 
 you ought to send that girl to school to- 
 morrow. If I were her guardian she should 
 not be a week longer there." 
 
 But Mr. Halton was going to Italy for a 
 holiday, and could not find a school in 
 such a hurry, and so he concluded his niece
 
 ON THE BEACH, 89 
 
 might very well remain where she was till 
 he came back. What better employment 
 than reading to sick people, and making 
 clothes for the poor, could be found for 
 his little ugly wayward niece ? He could 
 leave her there at Sandmouth for that spring 
 and summer safely. 
 
 If he could have had a bird's-eye view 
 of the seabeach at Sandmouth, and seen the 
 tall slender girl, sitting idly there, playing 
 with her needle, absorbed in day dreams, or 
 listening to the complimentary speeches of 
 Lewis Grahame, he might have changed 
 his mind, and postponed his Italian trip till 
 he had bestowed her safely. 
 
 " Well, I won't say I should not have 
 recognised you, if that is to be turned 
 against me," said Lewis ; " but still you 
 are altered. I cannot go back from what I 
 have said, — altered you are, and I am very 
 glad of it." 
 
 " I did not know I was so unpleasing 
 before," May answered roguishly. " How good 
 of you to bear with me so long." 
 
 " It did not need much goodness to do
 
 90 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 that," he answered, taking his seat beside 
 her. 
 
 Lewis had come to Enderby at Easter, 
 and was to remain there with his father 
 until his final departure for Spain. He came 
 over to Sandmouth every day, or stayed 
 several nights at the Blue Lion, and was 
 constantly at the Hermitage. Perhaps he 
 acted by his father's wishes in making him- 
 self so intimate there. Dr. Grahame knew 
 the value of Rawlstone Hall very w^ell, and 
 certainly never seemed to grudge the time 
 his son spent at Sandmouth, as so much 
 taken from himself 
 
 " I have seen Rawlstone," said Lewis ; and 
 May listened eagerly to all he could tell. 
 Her old home was an object of almost wor- 
 ship to her; she wanted to hear every little 
 detail, and Lewis was only sorry he had not 
 visited every field and corner, that he might 
 satisfy her curiosity. 
 
 " You should go there yourself," he con- 
 cluded, when he had told all he could, 
 and her interest was still unabated. " You 
 should make your uncle take you there for
 
 ON THE BEACH. 9 1 
 
 a visit. You could stay at the little inn 
 in the vilWe, — the CressinQ;ham Arms,— 
 and see everything, — learn all the secrets 
 of the garde douloureuse before you have to 
 take command there." 
 
 "It won't be a garde doidoiireiise for me. 
 I shall be so happy," said May confidently. 
 " Besides, who can I find to hold it against ? 
 are there smugglers ? I wish there were 
 pirates now-a-days ; it would be a splendid 
 place for resistance. I would summon all 
 the tenants, and keep the enemy at bay, 
 while some messenger, on the fleetest horse 
 in the stable, galloped to Yarmouth to bring 
 assistance." 
 
 " Do you like riding ? " asked Lewis. " I 
 should so like to teach you to ride, if we 
 could have some horses." 
 
 " I used to ride, you know," she replied, 
 "the autumn before last; only a pony though, 
 which used to be led." And she looked 
 over the rolling water, glittering like steel 
 in the sunlight, and sighed. It was seven 
 months since they had heard of Jesse, and 
 Josiah seemed hopeless of his being alive.
 
 92 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 Mrs. Freeman and May would not give up 
 hope ; but hope deferred maketh the heart 
 sick. 
 
 Lewis was eager to begin the riding 
 lessons, and the horses were procured by the 
 innkeeper, and the rides were one continued 
 delight to May while they lasted. The 
 rapid movement, and the free open country 
 to her who had been for a year and more 
 condemned to the narrow circle of the beach, 
 garden, and village road, were an old joy re- 
 vived, and Lewis was most agreeable as a 
 companion, and careful as a riding master. 
 But one day, May, disregarding his orders, 
 leaped her horse over a low wall and lamed 
 him, and the next morning riding was out of 
 the question. 
 
 " Well, a walk along the shore will be a 
 change," said she, philosophically, when Lewis 
 arrived with the news that the horse must be 
 left to rest ; and she ran up stairs to put on 
 her hat, shook down the long golden curls 
 over her shoulders, to relieve the black mo- 
 notony of her dress, and came down as happy 
 as if the poor horse were waiting at the door.
 
 ON THE BEACH. 93 
 
 They walked along the shore in the di- 
 rection opposite to the town. 
 
 " I have not been here for a long time," 
 May said. " Green won't let me come so far 
 alone. Do you see that rock sticking up at 
 the side of the cliff? There used to be some 
 lovely little blue flowers on it at this time of 
 the year; we used to climb up and get them." 
 
 " How could you get up ? that rock is 
 twelve feet high, at least." 
 
 " Oh, you must come round here to see. 
 Look ; we used to climb the cliff there, and 
 then step on that broad stone that sticks out 
 of the side, — we used to call it the draw- 
 bridge,— and so get on the table-rock, as we 
 called it." 
 
 " We ? why I am sure , I never was with 
 you." 
 
 " Oh ! I and Jesse, not you ; " and May 
 could hardly help blushing, as she remembered 
 Jesse's jealousy of him. 
 
 " Oh, Jesse, your groom. Ah, well, I sup- 
 pose a servant could hardly object to your 
 going up there; but I do, Margaret, most 
 strongly object to it; it is not safe."
 
 94 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 "And why you ?" asked May, unconsciously 
 feeling herself Jesse's champion. 
 
 " Because I care for you so much, — you 
 don't know how much," said Lewis, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 During the past week May had been waken- 
 ing to the fact that Lewis was trying to play 
 the lover, and like many girls of her age, 
 the consciousness of this was very irksome 
 to her. A handsome lass, who, knowing her- 
 self rich in worldly goods, looks upon marriage 
 as a thing she can command at her own time, 
 is sometimes inclined to regard love-making 
 as an impertinent annoyance ; and she had 
 already begun to tire of Lewis's flattering 
 speeches, and now turned pettishly against 
 them. 
 
 "You really are beginning to talk very 
 stupidly," she observed. " I shall go up, and 
 you may come or not, as you like." And 
 she climbed up the cliff at the place she had 
 pointed out. 
 
 " Take care, the drawbridge is loose," 
 cried a man who stood on the shore. May 
 looked round ; he was a sailor, and had just
 
 ON THE BEACH. 95 
 
 Stepped out of a small boat which was on 
 the sand, and he was still standing ankle 
 deep in water. She could not hear dis- 
 tinctly, as the wind blew from her to him, 
 and she put her hand behind her ear and 
 called out, — 
 
 " What do you say ? " 
 
 *' The drawbridge is loose, don't go on 
 it," he shouted in a loud voice, and he ran 
 across the beach and came under the cliff 
 where she stood. " I say. Miss May, you 
 will get hurt," he said, speaking quickly and 
 breathlessly. " I see a great crack over the 
 drawbridge, and it is coming down." 
 
 If he had not used the old name, known 
 only to them. May would not have recog- 
 nised Jesse for the moment, for fifteen 
 months of active exertion had increased his 
 growth to man's proportions ; exposure to 
 the elements had embrowned and coarsened 
 his skin, while the down that was begin- 
 ning to shade his lips and cheeks, only as 
 yet seemed a darker hue of the bronze ; 
 but the word they had always used for the 
 projecting stone by which she stood, gave
 
 96 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 her the hint, and with a scream of joy she 
 cried, — 
 
 "It is you, it is ! Oh, when did you come 
 back ? " 
 
 She was turning to come down the nar- 
 row path, but Lewis, who had now seen the 
 great crack extending over the stone she 
 had been preparing to step on, ran up, and 
 said anxiously, — 
 
 " Come down, Margaret, come down, the 
 man is right ; " and he made a step up the 
 path, when May, in pure spite at his inter- 
 ference, sprang on to the so-called draw- 
 bridge, and crossed to the table-rock beyond. 
 The heavy stone wanted but the little jar 
 given it by her tread, and as she passed 
 safely over it, it fell from the cliff with a 
 loud crash and a huge cloud of dust. 
 
 It fell harmless, for the two young men 
 were on one side upon the cliff, where she 
 had climbed up ; and they thought only of 
 her, while she, terrified by Lewis's cry and 
 Jesse's oath, turned in sickening terror lest 
 they were hurt. However, a moment's anx- 
 iety was all that either she or they suffered.
 
 ON THE BEACH. 97 
 
 The dust cleared away in a few seconds, and 
 they saw her safe above them on the table- 
 rock, and she, secure on her perch, was 
 recovering breath while she looked at Jesse, 
 whom she found it difficult to recognise as 
 her former playmate. 
 
 " Is it really you, Jesse ?" she asked doubt- 
 fully. The tremendous oath that burst from 
 him as the stone fell had astounded her ; his 
 voice and manner was as much changed as 
 his face, — he had grown a thorough salt-water 
 sailor, and she could not accept him as Jesse 
 at all. 
 
 " Have you been home, and seen them all?" 
 she asked from her high platform, some feet 
 above his head. " Mrs. Freeman is very ill." 
 
 " Ay, she is badly," he answered shortly ; 
 and then he added carelessly, as if he were 
 talking to a shipmate, " I came yesternight, 
 and I think I'll stop a week ashore." 
 
 "One week ashore, Jesse; have not you 
 come home for good ? " 
 
 Something in his face answered as plainly 
 as words could, that he had not come home 
 to be her slave any more ; that he meant to 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 90 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 ignore their former relative positions ; and that, 
 rough and rude as he now was, he claimed 
 equality with her, and would answer her on 
 no other terms. 
 
 " I think," he said slowly, and as if speak- 
 ings to himself, " I will o-q into the coasting 
 trade while the old woman lives; but that's 
 as may be." 
 
 She saw he meant her to feel she had no 
 right to question him about his plans. She 
 felt pained, and perhaps insulted; and yet she 
 wished to talk to him, to hear him speak cor- 
 dially to her, to let him know that she had 
 been wanting him to come back. She wished 
 he would look at her and smile kindly ; she 
 felt so very glad to see him back, though he 
 was so bearish and surly. She was waiting 
 for him to speak, while he below, stood with 
 his hands in his pockets, looking at the sea 
 and not at her. 
 
 Lewis spoke at length. 
 
 "How are you to get down, Margaret?" 
 
 May advanced to the edge of the rock. 
 
 " I must jump down," she said confidendy. 
 
 "Jump! nonsense, it's impossible!" cried
 
 ON THE BEACH. 99 
 
 Lewis. " You would break some limb if you 
 tried. For heaven's sake don't try ; I will 
 go and fetch a ladder or something." 
 
 " Here, let me lift you down," said Jesse, 
 with surly triumph. " I can do that easy, and 
 it is the only way too. Come." 
 
 " No ; wait a moment, Margaret. I can 
 help you, up from above," said Lewis, scram- 
 bling up the cliff over May's head. Jesse 
 looked up at him and shook his head. 
 
 " He can't do it, he'll have no hold up 
 there," he said. " Here, let me catch you 
 May, I'll hold you easy;" and he planted one 
 foot on the base of the rock, and stretched 
 up his arms that seemed equal to the task 
 of holding fast Hercules. Had he looked 
 more like Jesse, May would never have 
 hesitated ; had he been any one of the Sand- 
 mouth fishermen, she would have dropped 
 quietly into that firm grasp, and thanked 
 him as she was placed safely on the ground? 
 But she felt a decided reluctance to give 
 him the triumph — as she saw it would be 
 — of helping her down in opposition to 
 Lewis, who was . wishing to do it. Yet she
 
 lOO WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 turned away from the hand Lewis was 
 stretching down to her. He had climbed to 
 a perch on the cHff above where she stood, 
 and, grasping a young tree with one hand, 
 stretched down the other arm towards her, 
 offering to help her up. 
 
 " Come, Margaret, come," he said. 
 
 " She'll pull you down, and herself too," 
 growled Jesse. "Here, May, let me have hold 
 of you." 
 
 May was standing irresolute ; a feeling of 
 fright and responsibility coming over her as 
 she saw their readiness to quarrel about her. 
 She did not know which to turn to. She 
 would fain have trusted to Jesse's stronger 
 arm, but she hesitated, and looked up at 
 Lewis. She saw that Jesse was right, and 
 that he had no power of drawing her up, 
 for the branch he held would onl}^ support 
 his own weight. 
 
 "No, thank you, Lewis, I dare not," she 
 said ; and turning right away from Jes^e, 
 she sprang clear off the rock, and fell on 
 the sand below. Both Jesse and Lewis 
 uttered a cry of terror as they saw her fall.
 
 ON THE BEACH. lOI 
 
 She was stunned for a moment, but as Jesse 
 knelt down and raised her head from the 
 ground, she recovered consciousness, but only 
 with a scream of pain. 
 
 "Where is it? Where are you hurt, dear?" 
 he asked, hurriedly feeling her arms and wrists, 
 as if to see if the mischief were there. 
 
 Lewis dashed down the steep cliff and 
 reached them panting. "Is she killed ? Is 
 she killed ?" he cried in terror. 
 
 " No, no; it's nothing, only my foot," May 
 gasped, wringing her hands to suppress scream- 
 ing. She saw Jesse's face of anxiety. Had 
 she looked at Lewis, she would have seen he 
 was still more terrified; but she looked only 
 at Jesse, and she tried to set him at ease. 
 
 "How stupid you both are! Leave me alone; 
 I shall be better directly." 
 
 Jesse raised her more on his arm. 
 
 " Run to the boat there," -lie said to Lewis. 
 " There is a pail there ; you can fill it with 
 water." 
 
 Lewis felt that Jesse knew more what he 
 was about than he did, and obeyed. He 
 brought water, and Jesse bathed her face and
 
 I02 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 temples with it, for she was nearly fainting 
 with pain ; but as soon as she could speak 
 again, she tried to comfort them both. 
 
 " It is nothing to signify, I tell you. I 
 have only hurt my foot, or broken it; but 
 it will be right soon, I daresay. Oh, dear ! " 
 The poor girl's stoicism gave way at last, 
 and she shrieked w^ith pain as they tried to 
 raise her. 
 
 " That won't do ; she must lie where she 
 is," said Jesse, who still held her on his arm. 
 " Fetch up the sail that is rolled up in the 
 boat, it will make her a pillow ; and we'll see 
 to her foot." 
 
 The sail was brought by Lewis, and May 
 was propped up and supported on it, while 
 Jesse examined her foot and ankle. He said 
 it was not broken, only sprained, and began 
 to bathe it with the salt water ; while Lewis 
 fanned her with his sailor's cap. It was all 
 they could do to keep her from fainting. 
 
 " Oh, it is better, a little ; it is really," May 
 sighed, after half an hour had passed in this way. 
 " Oh, thank you both so much. Can you get 
 me home now ? "
 
 ON THE BEACH. IO3 
 
 " I will Stay with you while he runs and 
 gets the fly from Sandmouth," said Lewis 
 quickly. 
 
 " The boat is there," replied Jesse, with 
 some contempt for the blindness which could 
 overlook that quick and easy mode of trans- 
 port. " You bring the things ; I'll carry her." 
 
 " I will carry her," said Lewis, growing 
 very red and angry, 
 
 " Get off ; you'd let her fall ! " answered the 
 sailor, glancing disdainfully at Lewis's slight 
 figure ; and lifting up May as if she were 
 still a little child, Jesse walked with her to the 
 boat. It was some way from the water now, 
 for the tide had fallen, and Lewis made but 
 a poor figure as he tried to push it off 
 
 "Can't you do it? — then I will," said Jesse, 
 who stood waiting with May in his arms; 
 and placing her down in it as softly as if 
 she were a piece of china, he gave it a shove 
 with all his streno^th, and sent it grratincr 
 down the pebbly sand till it floated. He ran 
 down with it till the water was over his 
 knees, and then climbing in, took the oars 
 and pulled out.
 
 I04 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " Come for me then," said Lewis. 
 
 " Come along then," said the sailor grimly ; 
 "I'll wait." 
 
 " Oh, go closer for him." said May faintly ; 
 " don't make him get wet." But Jesse heeded 
 not her remonstrance, and calling out to 
 Lewis, — 
 
 **You run along- and oret to the Hermit- 
 age, and tell them she is coming," he began 
 rowing homewards, and Lewis hastened along 
 the beach in the same direction. 
 
 Jesse rowed hard, and said never a word. 
 May lay still in the boat, unable to speak. 
 She was faint again with the pain, but if she 
 had not been, she would have hesitated to 
 speak to him, in his present strange mood of 
 surly silence. They came at length opposite 
 the Hermitage, and the boat grounded easily, 
 but even that slight shock gave May fresh 
 agony. Lewis was already there, trying with 
 James to carry a sofa down to the water's 
 edge; but Jesse lifted May out and carried 
 her as before, across the beach, and then 
 straight into the house, and calling Green to 
 point the way, went without stopping up the
 
 ON THE BEACH. IO5 
 
 stairs, and laid her on her own bed. May 
 opened her eyes an^ tried to thank him, but 
 he was off already, saying to Green he would 
 run to Sandmouth and send the doctor, if 
 he were at home. Lewis waited, walking 
 restlessly up and down the garden, to hear 
 the doctor's report ; but after he had come, 
 and pronounced the mischief to be only a 
 severe sprain, Lewis was not satisfied. The 
 Sandmouth doctor was only a druggist, with 
 some slight knowledge in casualties, and Lewis 
 hastened away to Enderby to fetch his father. 
 
 Dr. Grahame came quickly, but confirmed 
 the opinion of the Sandmouth practitioner, in 
 so far that there was nothing more the mat- 
 ter than a sprain; but it was, he said, a bad 
 one, and May would not be able to walk for 
 many weeks. And with this comforting assu- 
 rance she was left to bear the pain in silence; 
 but her joy in knowing that Jesse had come 
 back, made her very cheerful after the first 
 twelve hours. 
 
 " Oh, Green ! how happy Mrs. Freeman 
 must be now. When did he come back ; do 
 you know ? "
 
 106 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 "Four days ago, miss. He came here from 
 Yarmouth. He was taking a row along the 
 shore when he saw you going up the diff." 
 
 "He was not coming to see me, then," 
 said May sadly. Green was silent. She 
 pretty well knew the circumstances of Jesse's 
 leaving Sandmouth, and her young mistress's 
 share therein. 
 
 " Will you go to him from me, Green, 
 and thank him?" said May earnestly. "I shall 
 send and ask him to come as soon as I can 
 be downstairs again; but do go and tell him 
 how I thank him." 
 
 She ascertained that Green did give the 
 message, but she feared there was no response, 
 at 'least none that Green could report. She 
 saw he had not forgiven her, and she could 
 not wonder at it. The more she thought of 
 her last words to him, the more utterly cruel 
 and ungrateful her own conduct appeared to 
 her, and she longed to see him, and tell him 
 how thoroughly sorry she was and had been. 
 
 May's self-reproach and penitence, and her 
 continual fears for Jesse's safety, had so 
 caused her thoughts to dwell on him, that he
 
 ON THE BEACH. IO7 
 
 had become, after Lewis, the most important 
 unit of her small social interests. If she 
 could have confided her anxieties to Lewis, 
 and received sympathy from him, she might 
 have pondered less over Jesse and his dangers. 
 But Lewis had always despised Jesse, and 
 would have laughed at her ; so she said 
 nothing to him of her lost playmate, and, 
 unless when Lewis was at the Hermitage, 
 thought of little else but Jesse. So, in pro- 
 portion to the vexation of spirit his absence 
 had caused her, was her satisfaction now in 
 thinking he was returned; and she thought 
 nothing of the pain her foot caused her, in 
 comparison with the distress of being unable 
 to come downstairs and see him. 
 
 Dr. Grahame came again at the end of a 
 week, and brought her a letter from Lewis, 
 who was obliged to start for London, and 
 probably would not return to Enderby before 
 he went to Spain. May was much distressed 
 to know she should not see him again ; but 
 she forgot even him in her anxiety to get 
 downstairs. 
 
 " Green says she will make me a bed in
 
 I08 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 the dining-room, and sleep in the study her- 
 self; and then I can lie on the sofa, and be 
 wheeled into the parlour, and look out at 
 the \sea, doctor. I can't see it from this 
 window." 
 
 "If you could be carried down without 
 getting your foot hurt, I should like the plan," 
 said the doctor. " You might then be wheeled 
 on the sofa through the French window, and lie 
 in the garden. Green has been saying to me, 
 you are pining for fresh air. I think she is right; 
 but can the gardener carry you down safely ? " 
 
 "Jesse Freeman will carry her down, sir," 
 said Green. "He is here every day, and he 
 is stronger than James. He will carry her 
 safely, I know." 
 
 " Very well then, take her down," said the 
 doctor ; " and let her be out in the air as much 
 as possible ; but remember, she must not put 
 her foot to the ground for four weeks at 
 least. If she does, it will never get well." 
 
 " Better put all the shoes for this poor foot 
 in the attic. Green, dear," said May laughing ; 
 " and then Doctor Grahame will feel easy 
 about me."
 
 ON THE BEACH. lOQ 
 
 " It would not be a bad plan," said the 
 doctor, shaking his fist in mock anger at her 
 as he went out. 
 
 An hour afterwards, Green came with May's 
 garden shawl. " Here, dear, the sofa is in 
 the garden, and Jesse is here, and says he 
 will carry you down easily ; and while you 
 are out in the garden, I will get James to 
 help me move this furniture down to the 
 drawing-room. Now, don't you be afraid; Jesse 
 is grown quite a man now, and as strong as 
 anything." 
 
 Jesse came in, looking much more like his 
 former self, from the civilising influences of a 
 week on . shore, and a great alteration in his 
 dress, which was no more sea-faring than 
 what was common among the Sandmouth 
 fishermen. It certainly was not fear that 
 made May's heart beat so fast as he came in. 
 Her smile of joyful recognition ought to have 
 made him throw aside his surly, ill-tempered 
 look ; but it did not. 
 
 "Are you ready?" he asked, almost roughly. 
 But he lifted her up with the gentlest care, 
 and carried her dpwn stairs into the garden.
 
 no WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 as safely as he had brought her up from the 
 boat. There she was laid on the sofa, and 
 Green wrapped her shawl round her, while 
 Jesse stood by, looking as if he cared only to 
 be off; and after Green had found fault with 
 the place chosen for the sofa, and made him 
 and James move it several times into a bet- 
 ter position, he suddenly asked whether he 
 was wanted, and remarking he would be near, 
 and could be fetched if he were, he went 
 away, and May saw he did not wish her to 
 thank him. She could not help crying, while 
 she pretended to shade her eyes from the sun 
 with her parasol, lest Green, who sat near, 
 should see. How was she to tell him she 
 was sorry for ever having spoken unkindly to 
 him, if he would not stop and speak to her ? 
 But after May had eaten her dinner at a 
 little table that James brought out, Green 
 became very furious against Jesse. 
 
 " Stupid boy ! What does he stop away 
 for, when I want to go to my work ? " she 
 said. "Fetch him, James. Tell him Miss 
 May can't be left alone, — she can't even pick 
 up her handkerchief if she drops it, — and I
 
 ON THE BEACH. Ill 
 
 must go and see about the furniture, or she 
 will have no bed to sleep on to-night." 
 
 James objected that perhaps Jesse had 
 business of his own, and would not choose 
 to stop loitering by Miss May's sofa all the 
 afternoon ; but Green cut him short, and 
 called loudly for Jesse. He came; received 
 Green's instructions in silence ; promised to 
 remain near, and call her if her young lady 
 wanted her, and then he went to smoke his 
 pipe at some little distance. He was deter- 
 mined not to give May an opportunity of 
 speaking. But she was not to be baffled ; and 
 as soon as Green was gone, she let her 
 parasol fly away in the wind, and called on 
 him to come and bring it to her. Then he 
 had to fix it to the table, and place it close 
 at her elbow; and while he did so, she 
 caught hold of his arm and made him prisoner. 
 
 "Jesse, now that we are alone, you must 
 let me thank you a little for all you have 
 done." 
 
 " I don't want thanking," he replied, look- 
 ing at the ground. "I'm glad to see you 
 downstairs again, and in the fresh sweet air
 
 112 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 and the sun, but I don't care for you to 
 thank me." 
 
 " Oh, but Jesse ! I want to say it now, 
 while I can. I am so sorry! I know I be- 
 haved so very unkindly to you. I am almost 
 ashamed to see you. I know I was so very 
 ungrateful to you, and treated you so ill. I 
 am sure you have forgiven me ; but I do not 
 deserve that you should." 
 
 "No; you don't deserve it. You did not 
 behave as you had ought to," he said in a very 
 low voice. He had not forgiven her ; he was 
 devoting himself to her now with a very keen 
 recollection of the wrongs he had suffered. 
 He had never forgotten the unkind words he 
 had heard from her, and he was all the more 
 tenderly careful of her, now that he was forced 
 to take care of her, because he had determined 
 not to forgive her. She looked wistfully and 
 inquiringly in his face, as he withdrew his 
 hand from hers and stepped back a pace. 
 
 " Have not you forgiven me ? " she asked. 
 " I thought you had. I was very unkind, and 
 very rude, and very wrong, but I have been 
 so very sorry, — I cannot tell )ou how sorry ;
 
 ON THE BEACH. II3 
 
 and when the wind blew, I thought of you 
 so " 
 
 The real sadness of her voice and look 
 overcame all Jesse's angry feelings. 
 
 " Did you ? Did you think of me?" he re- 
 sponded quickly. " Then it's all over ; and 
 there's no harm done. And I don't know," he 
 added, anxious to make her happy, " as I 
 might not say as it has been all for my good, 
 seeing as how I've learned my trade, and can 
 now shift for myself; and I've seen foreign 
 countries, as I wished to." 
 
 But this consideration failed to lighten 
 May's self-reproach. " Are you still going to 
 be a sailor, then ?" she asked timidl}^ " Oh ! 
 have you not been in dreadful storms ?" 
 
 " Oh, ay, we have ; there was one last Feb- 
 ruary, as I never thought I would come back 
 again here. We never got an hour's sleep for 
 seven days and nights ; it was the fifteenth of 
 February it began." 
 
 " Oh ! that was when we were praying so 
 for you," said May, bursting into tears ; " and 
 we thought you would be drowned." 
 
 "Did you think of me then?" Jesse asked 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 eagerly. " I was thinking of you then, though 
 I did not think I'd ever see you again." 
 
 He did not say how he had made up his 
 mind when he went his voyage, that he would 
 never see her again till he was grown so old 
 that she must quite forget that he had ever been 
 her servant ; the angry sting of her scornful 
 words had remained by him all the time he 
 was away, — and when, two days after his re- 
 turn to Sandmouth, he took his way along the 
 shore in his little boat, he had passed by 
 the Hermitage, intending not to see her, unless 
 she came to the village to find him, when 
 ehe heard of his return. Her danger on the 
 "Drawbridge," made him break his resolution, 
 and her accident and helplessness changed 
 him into her devoted servant again. 
 
 But all this he did not tell her ; he hardly 
 remembered it himself He wanted to see her 
 look happy again, and not cry so bitterly in 
 remorse and self-reproach, and he sat down by 
 her sofa, and began the story of his voyages. 
 He had been to the West Indies, and from 
 thence to Australia; and she listened in 
 rapt amazement, not allowing him a mo-
 
 ON THE BEACH. II5 
 
 ment's pause, and when Green came, and 
 wanted her to be carried indoors, she refused 
 to go, and kept him talking until even he agreed 
 with Green, that it was growing too late for 
 her to stay out longer, and he must help Green 
 to lift the sofa in through the window into the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 " But you will come again to-morrow ?" 
 May asked so beseechingly, that he could not 
 have refused if he would ; and he came every 
 day to wait by her sofa and claim her sympa- 
 thy for all his adventures. In spite of his 
 manly stature, of which he was intensely proud, 
 he was almost a boy still at heart ; his very 
 resentment had been that of a boy, and now 
 it was over, their quarrel was forgotten as well 
 as forgiven.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN THE BOAT. 
 
 Before a fortnight was over, May's foot had 
 so far recovered from the injury, that Jesse 
 ventured to propose that he should take her 
 out in the boat. He had contrived a kind of 
 hand-barrow, on which he and James could 
 easily carry her down to the landing-place. 
 He brought from the village a trusty little 
 skiff, which he drew up on the beach opposite 
 the Hermitage, to be always in readiness ; 
 in this she could lie comfortably among 
 cushions and pillows, and be rocked on the 
 smooth water in luxurious idleness. May was 
 delighted ; the sky was now bright, and the 
 sun warm, the light breeze on the water was 
 invigorating and health-giving, and she passed 
 many hours of each day in the little boat, 
 lazily watching the clouds and the seagulls, or 
 the rocks and trees on the shore, and listening 
 to Jesse's stories of his voyage, as a marvel- 
 lous romance, never ending and always new.
 
 IN THE BOAT. II7 
 
 She had never in her Hfe felt so happy, or 
 enjoyed the boat so much as she did that 
 summer, the very sea and sky looked brighter 
 than they had ever looked before to her ; she 
 had not been so thoroughly at peace with 
 herself and her conscience for a long time. 
 Her griefs had all centred round the one point, 
 her responsibility in driving Jesse away from her 
 into danger and privation. This had haunted 
 her sleeping and waking, and this was now 
 all over, — he had forgiven her, and with her 
 it was as it is with the children — to be for- 
 given is to be guiltless ; and he had come 
 back so gay, so clever, and so handsome (for in 
 her eyes he was handsome), that she gloried 
 in him, in his strength, in his courage, and his 
 adventures. She was proud of having him for 
 her friend, and in seeing him so devoted to her. 
 If Mr. John Halton had not been spending 
 the autumn in Switzerland, while his brother 
 Theodore supplied his place in the counting- 
 house, and left papers for the Mineral ogical 
 Society sticking between the leaves of the 
 ledger, he would have come and taken his 
 niece away to school. He had found a school
 
 Il8 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 at last, a most unexceptionable one, highly 
 recommended by a fashionable acquaintance of 
 his wife's ; but he would not send May there 
 until after his autumn trip was over. He 
 fancied she would be very unwilling to go, and 
 there would be the servants to dismiss, and 
 many things to attend to. So he resolved to 
 wait till he came home in October. 
 
 Meantime, May went on making a hero of 
 her sailor friend ; there was no longer any in- 
 tellectual superiority on her side, for she had 
 learned nothing from Miss Primer but some 
 words of foreign languages, and a few notes 
 of music ; she had read only novels and books 
 of travels ; she was Jesse's inferior in the men- 
 tal development given to the mind by steady 
 discipline, and the necessity of prompt obe- 
 dience to his superiors on ship-board. He 
 was three years older than she was, and she 
 instinctively recognised his greater energy and 
 force of character, and he had seen enough 
 in his voyages to make him appear in her 
 eyes better informed than herself It never 
 entered her head now, that there was any 
 condescension on her part in her friendship
 
 IN THE BOAT. I ig 
 
 for him ; there was an air of conscious inde- 
 pendence about him that established equaHty, 
 she had seen it, and felt it painfully, in the 
 first moment when he appeared under the 
 drawbridge stone ; but now, though she still 
 recognised it, it attracted her to him instead 
 of repelling her. It made him an equal, — he 
 was her friend, — and when, day after day, she 
 listened to his thrilling tales of past dangers 
 by sea, he became in her eyes a real hero, and 
 she worshipped him as such. Nor did he 
 seem less a hero for his tender care of her on 
 all occasions, above all when she remembered 
 her own ingratitude to him. The attitude of 
 moral defiance he had assumed, only roused 
 her wish to please him, and established his 
 influence over her ; and she gave herself up 
 to the contemplation and worship of her idol, 
 careless of consequences. 
 
 One day, an actinia, a perfect miracle of 
 beauty, came floating by the boat. Jesse bared 
 his arm to the shoulder to pull it up, and gave 
 it to May to look at ; but while he was drawing 
 his sleeve down again, she saw a blue tattooing 
 on his arm, of three letters, MAY. . . .
 
 I20 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 She commented on it before she had time 
 to think. 
 
 Jesse laughed. "Yes, I put it there one 
 day when I was at sea ; one Hkes to have 
 something to remember home by ; and yours 
 was a nice short name, it did for Sandmouth 
 and home too." 
 
 May laughed too, and felt it was very nice 
 to be thought of and remembered far away in 
 distant countries, over the wide waters ; and 
 yet, when they came to land, and the tide being 
 low, and the landing-place impracticable, he 
 took her in his arms, and carried her on shore, 
 as he had often done during the first week 
 after her accident ; she blushed till she was 
 red as the summer rose, and thanked him more 
 curtly than ever before. 
 
 After this, it dawned upon her that she 
 cared for him more than for any one else ; 
 and though this had certainly long been the 
 case, yet it came to her like a new revelation. 
 She was not quite without a warning presenti- 
 ment where this friendship must end ; but she 
 silenced the unwelcome voice of warning, 
 saying to herself, she was too young yet for
 
 IN THE BOAT. 121 
 
 such questions to trouble her; and then she 
 pondered how it could be contrived to keep 
 Jesse always on shore. When she grew up 
 she would give him a ship — but only for the 
 coasting trade, not for a long voyage : she was 
 determined he should not go round Cape 
 Horn again. 
 
 " Now, Jesse, promise me you will never go 
 to sea again." 
 
 " Why, May ? Miss May, dear, I cannot 
 promise ; this is my trade. I've got no other." 
 
 " But if you had another, you would stay — 
 wouldn't you ?" she asked eagerly. " I've 
 planned it .all, Jesse. I am to live at Rawl- 
 stone, you know, as soon as I get a little 
 older. It is close to Yarmouth ; and I shall 
 have a yacht, and you will manage it for me : 
 that will do, won't it ?" 
 
 Jesse laughed outright. "No, no!" he said 
 merrily : " that won't do at all. I must be a 
 regular skipper, or have a ship of my own." 
 
 " Well, then ; you shall have a ship of your 
 own, a little one like Mr. Lockwood's," said 
 May, "and go up and down anywhere along 
 the coast ; but don't go a long voyage again,
 
 122 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 Jesse. I will make my imcle find you a coaster 
 at once." 
 
 "Thank you, dear Miss May," said Jesse 
 gratefully ; " but that would not suit me. I 
 could not be content, I am sure, with along- 
 shore sailing; I must either give up the sea 
 altogether, and learn some other trade, as the 
 old woman at home wants me to, or go on blue 
 water again." 
 
 " Oh, no, no ! you must not do that," said 
 May, hurriedly ; " my uncle will find you some- 
 thing to do. I'll ask him." 
 
 Jesse shook his head, and busied himself 
 
 with a refractory rowlock. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Old Mrs. Freeman had been growing weaker 
 all the summer ; and as the autumn came, it 
 was evident she was sinking. 
 
 " I should like to see Miss May, Josiah : 
 do you think she could come so far ?" she 
 asked of her elder grandson. 
 
 " Oh, I think so. She gets about the house 
 now with a stick, I hear," said Josiah. "Jesse 
 could take a message to her. He is all day 
 there with the boat now."
 
 IN THE BOAT. 1 2$ 
 
 " I am SO glad they are friends again," said 
 Mrs. Freeman. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! they are friends enough," said 
 Josiah ; and there was a curious smile on his 
 face for a moment, though it vanished com- 
 pletely as he went into the other room and sat 
 down to his books. 
 
 "It is that cursed house as I bought will 
 ruin us," he said to his wife. " I was a cursed 
 fool to buy it : I shall be swamped with it." 
 
 " Oh, don't, don't talk so. Josh !" said his wife, 
 laying her hand on his shoulder : " you may 
 pull through yet ; poor grannie will leave us 
 something when she goes, you know." 
 
 "No she won't, it is to be for Jesse ; and 
 her cottage at Filby too, though that is worth 
 nothing, for all she thinks so much of it, it 
 would not sell for a hundred pounds." 
 
 " Well, he will lend you the money, whatever 
 it is, I know," said Mrs. Josiah, soothingly. 
 
 " Well if he did, I must support him : what 
 is he to do, unless he goes back to sea ?" 
 
 " Miss Cressingham might help us, perhaps," 
 said Mrs. Josiah. " If she would speak to her 
 uncle, and get him to lend you some money —
 
 124 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 give US the rent of the Hermitage in advance, 
 that would be a help, I should ask her to 
 write to him. I am sure she would, if Jesse 
 asked her. She would do anything to pleasure 
 him, I think, she is that fond of him." 
 
 " If she should marry him some time," said 
 Mr. Freeman meditatively. 
 
 "Josiah! my goodness!" gasped his wife 
 in amazement. 
 
 " Well, it would not surprise me if she did," 
 said Mr. Freeman. " It might be ; she is 
 always with him, and you know, though she 
 is born a lady, yet her bringing up is not 
 better than yours or mine ; and he is a sharp 
 lively lad, and a handsome too ; and though 
 he is only a sailor, you know he might have 
 been something higher if he would have 
 listened to us, and got schooling." 
 
 " Well, never mind all that now," said Mrs. 
 Josiah, soothingly ; for she was inclined to 
 think her husband was taking leave of his 
 senses. " You go and tell Miss Cressingham 
 grandmother wants to see her." 
 
 Josiah went, thinking it would not be a bad 
 idea to get May to write to Mr. Hal ton, and
 
 IN THE BOAT. 1 25 
 
 ask him to come to his help by paying him 
 the rent of the Hermitage in advance ; he 
 allowed her to perceive he was very dole- 
 ful, and let her ask questions, and hear as 
 much of his difficulties as he was minded to 
 impart, namely, that repairing the roof had 
 put him to heavy expenses, and he was much 
 in need of ready money. More he did not 
 wish her to suspect. He knew Hal ton was a 
 man more likely to assist a disabled ship, 
 than a sinking one, and what he did say was 
 quite sufficient to make her promise to write. 
 May wrote the letter, while Josiah went back 
 to Sandmouth to send the fly kept at the 
 Blue Lion to the Hermitage, to take her 
 down to the shop. 
 
 To let May write to her uncle, was the 
 most impolitic thing Mr. Freeman could have 
 devised, for Mr. Halton could not but resent 
 his niece being spoken to on the subject ; 
 and he was moreover angry with her, for her 
 conduct towards Miss Primer ; but Josiah was 
 too desperate to see this, and he felt a faint 
 degree of hope when she told him she had 
 written.
 
 126 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 May found old Mrs, Freeman much al- 
 tered, and very weak, but anxious to talk, 
 principally about Jesse. 
 
 " I don't want him to go to sea again, I 
 don't indeed, indeed. Miss ; I am going to 
 make him stay on shore. I've told you, my 
 dear, that I have a little cottage and a garden 
 of my own, though I've let some one live 
 there when I came to be with Josiah. It is 
 at Filby, my dear, not ten miles from your 
 own home at Rawlstone ; and I have seen a 
 lawyer, and I have signed my name, and 
 given it to Jesse when I'm dead ; and then 
 he'll feel as he has a home of his own." 
 
 "In your cottage, grannie ? It's not big 
 enough for a man to turn round in," said 
 Josiah; "and there's half an acre of garden 
 only. What is he to do there ? " 
 
 "He can get work with the farmers if he 
 settles down," said the old lady, " It's the 
 cottage where his father was born, and he 
 shall have it, and I'll leave him the little 
 money I have, and I hope it will steady 
 him." 
 
 "He will be steady without that, grannie,"
 
 IN THE BOAT. I 27 
 
 said Jesse, coming in as she spoke. " I will 
 try and find work of some kind on shore." 
 
 " God bless you, my boy ; I knew you 
 would," said the old woman, turning fondly 
 towards him. " How well you're looking ;" 
 and she went on talking, and praising her 
 darling, till May, who had been deep in 
 thought, broke in with, — 
 
 " I've got a plan ; — if Jesse is going to live 
 at Filby. Dr. Grahame says the bailiff at 
 Rawlstone is a bad farmer, and spoils the 
 land ; my uncle must send him away, and 
 Jesse shall have his place." 
 
 " My dear Miss Cressingham, that's the 
 very thing that would suit him," said Mrs. 
 Freeman, rapturously. 
 
 " Why, I don't know anything about farm- 
 ing," observed Jesse, candidly. 
 
 " Oh, but you can learn," said May, with 
 her usual confidence; "at least, enough to be 
 bailiff. You would have to write a good 
 hand, but I know you can do that, for I 
 taught you. You used to write just like uncle 
 John." 
 
 " So I do now," said Jesse ; " I had one
 
 128 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 of his letters you gave me, on ship-board, 
 and I copied it over ever so often, o' nights. 
 I can't tell my own writing from his now, 
 and I don't think you could." 
 
 " Well, then, you must go to Filby and 
 learn farming," said May ; " and now I must 
 go, for that flyman has been going into the 
 public-house ever so many times, and he will 
 be too tipsy to drive soon, if I stop any 
 longer, I am sure." 
 
 " I will go with him on the box then," said 
 Jesse ; " and see you home safe," 
 
 May went home, reflecting how fortunate it 
 was that Jesse should have a cottage only ten 
 miles from Rawlstone, so that when she went 
 there, she could see him often, She resolved 
 to persuade her uncle to let her go and live 
 at Rawlstone, or at Yarmouth, till the present 
 tenant had left the dwelling-house. Jesse, 
 meantime, would learn farming, and then he 
 should be bailiff, and should live in the bailift's 
 house, which should be put in order, and 
 made very comfortable. And her airy castles 
 went on a little beyond all that. She was 
 thinkinof how handsome a cfcntleman her
 
 IN THE BOAT, 1 29 
 
 sailor would make, if he were dressed as one ; 
 and how clever and good he was, and would 
 make all the labourers and villagers love him 
 and respect him, and he would become a 
 gentleman, and no one would be surprised if 
 
 some day ^Her thoughts had gone at a 
 
 greater rate than she meant. She tried to 
 pull them up short, but they ran away again, 
 and she was forced to let them have their 
 own way. At any rate, she was resolved that 
 Jesse should never again go to sea, or any- 
 where else away from her. 
 
 Jesse's thoughts, as he walked home on 
 that October evening, were somewhat differ- 
 ent ; for he was poor and she was rich. He 
 had for some weeks been slowly wakening 
 to the conciousness, that what he felt for this 
 girl was a love far stronger than friendship. 
 He had known the last day or two, that he 
 cared for nothing else in existence in com- 
 parison with her ; and that he ought not, for 
 his own happiness, to stay longer where he 
 could see her every day ; for that he was 
 poor and she was wealthy, and it was un- 
 likely such a social distance could be bridged 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 over. But of any other distinction he had 
 not a notion. She was so little instructed in 
 the outward graces belonging to her father's 
 social position, and was mentally so entirely 
 uncultivated, that Jesse recognised very little 
 difference between her and Josiah's wife, ex- 
 cept for a scarcely defined air of refinement, 
 which he believed to belong to May herself, 
 and to have nothing to do with class distinc- 
 tions. In his eyes there was nothing but her 
 wealth to divide him from her, and therefore 
 he did not feel it was wrong of him to love 
 her, however hopeless of a return his love 
 might be. He felt no way unworthy of her ; 
 besides, he was young, and in the day-dreams 
 of youth a possibility of good luck always 
 plays a part. Josiah might trust him with a 
 venture, or he might do something which 
 should put him in the way of growing rich, 
 before she was old enough to marry any one. 
 Such had been the unreasoning pleasures of 
 imagination in which he had indulged when 
 he was idle ; but now the suggestion of the 
 bailiffship at Rawlstone was giving a touch of 
 reality to all his fairy visions ; he might grow
 
 IN THE BOAT. I3I 
 
 rich, he might become a gentleman, he might 
 become necessary to her at Rawlstone, and — 
 his thoughts ended in dreams, which he did 
 not care to drive away. 
 
 " Have you heard that I am to be baiHfif 
 some day, at Rawlstone, when I've learned 
 farming ? " he said to his brother one day, 
 by way of saying something cheering to a 
 man who looked thoroughly down-hearted and 
 miserable. 
 
 "You won't get it. Mr. Halton will not 
 give it to you, or let his niece do anything 
 for you," said Josiah. "He's a real old cur- 
 mudgeon ; see what he has written to me ! " 
 
 " Why, what have yoii been saying to him, 
 that he calls you all these hard names for. 
 Josh?" asked Jesse, amazed. 
 
 " Nothing that should make him take 
 offence," replied Josiah. " I wrote and told 
 him I had been unfortunate in a speculation, 
 and was troubled to meet the debts the repair- 
 ing the Hermitage had made me owe ; that 
 mending the roof has done for me ; it has 
 thrown all behind, and what to do I don't 
 know ; and I asked him if he could let me
 
 132 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 have the year's rent in advance, — it's not 
 much for him, only a hundred pounds, — and 
 you see he won't. He is going to send his 
 niece to school, and won't want the house any 
 longer. Then I wrote and told him I was 
 hard up, and I begged him to lend me the 
 money as he had known me so long, and 
 Mrs. Cressingham had trusted me so much, and 
 he won't, and you see how he says it too." 
 
 "He should not write this way to a man 
 that's down," said Jesse ; "and you too, whom 
 he has trusted to look after his niece all this 
 time ; he should treat you ci viler than that." 
 
 " He'll not help me, nor you either, Jesse, 
 you may be sure of that." 
 
 " I don't know as he can help Miss Cress- 
 ingham making me her bailiff, as soon as she 
 is of age." 
 
 " I should think you might be something 
 better than bailiff at Rawlstone, if you liked," 
 said Josiah, significantly ; but Jesse looked 
 so vague and unconscious that he had to 
 explain further. 
 
 " I mean that she likes you, and I believe 
 she would marry you if you asked her."
 
 IN THE BOAT. 133 
 
 " I would not have thought it of you, Josh," 
 cried Jesse, indignantly. 
 
 " Why, what is wrong in what I've said ? " 
 asked Mr. Freeman. 
 
 " Would you call it honest to ask a girl 
 with all that money, to marry one, when she 
 is almost a baby, and can't know her own 
 mind a bit ?" 
 
 " I don't call it wrong," said Josiah, coolly. 
 " She is all alone, with no one to look after 
 her. Mr. Halton is worse than nothing. She 
 would be far better off with you for her hus- 
 band, than with him for a guardian ; a cold- 
 hearted, selfish fellow as he is, who cares for 
 nothing but himself and his dinner." 
 
 " You won't make me believe it's right for 
 a poor sailor, like me, to persuade her to 
 marry me, and give me all her money, when 
 she don't know her right hand from her left," 
 said Jesse, angrily; and he went out, but all 
 his fairy visions were flown, and he was 
 cruelly awakened to the anomaly of his posi- 
 tion towards May. Far from rousing any 
 hopes, Josiah's words had crushed the dream 
 his brother had cherished, of some day be-
 
 134 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 coming a rich man, and winning May for a 
 wife, and made him alive to the great differ- 
 ence between them. He wondered sadly now, 
 whether her readiness to accept all his services, 
 her total want of shyness in talking to him, 
 did not show that she considered him as one 
 so inferior to her, as to be of another race; 
 and he felt bitterly, that whatever Josiah 
 might say, there was an impassible gulf 
 between them. He was hopelessly wretched ; 
 and for two days he did not go to the 
 Hermitage, to the utter alarm and bewilder- 
 ment of May, who at last sent James to 
 find him. 
 
 James came to the shop, and inquired for 
 him. Old Mrs. Freeman heard he was come. 
 
 " Let him ask Miss Cressingham to come 
 to me again," she said. *' I did not say half 
 I wanted to, to her the other day ; and I'm 
 going, I feel. Send the fly for her, please, at 
 once." 
 
 May obeyed the summons immediately. 
 She was crying when she came in, but Mrs. 
 Freeman supposed it was the news of her 
 own illness that had frightened her; and she
 
 IN THE BOAT. 135 
 
 told her not to fret about her, for she was 
 quite contented to die ; and then she ad- 
 dressed her very seriously and affectionately 
 as if for the last time. 
 
 " I hope, my dear Miss Cressingham, you 
 won't forget your promise of trying to make 
 Jesse the bailiff at Rawlstone when you are 
 your own mistress. It will be a great comfort 
 to me when I'm in my grave, to think he 
 will be settled on shore." 
 
 " I can't do anything for him ; I have no 
 power," exclaimed May, bursting into tears. 
 " Uncle John is going to take me away, and 
 send me to school ; he has written to me 
 this morning. He is very cruel. I can't go 
 to school. I won't go." 
 
 " Oh, my dear, you must not talk so. You 
 ought to respect your uncle, and do what 
 he wishes you. * Honour thy father and thy 
 mother,' you know the Scripture says." 
 
 " I have not any father, or I would honour 
 him ; and Uncle John is no uncle to me," 
 said May piteously. "He is so unkind when 
 he writes, and blames me cruelly ; and he 
 sent me that horrid woman for a eoverness ;
 
 136 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 and when she went away he was angry with 
 me." 
 
 "Still, my dear, you should try and be 
 dutiful to him, and love him all you can. If 
 you don't, it may be very sad for you, poor 
 dear," said the old woman fondly. " It was 
 just what I sent to you to speak about." 
 
 And she gave a little good and kindly 
 advice as to obeying Mr. Halton's wishes, 
 and trying to make a friend of him ; ending 
 with, " You must be as a daughter to him, 
 and show him obedience. And, dear Miss 
 May, promise me one thing : you must never 
 marry any gentleman whom your uncle does 
 not like, promise me that." 
 
 May's eyes sought the floor. " No ; I can't 
 promise tha,t. I'll think of what you say, but 
 I can't promise ; because I think if I ever do 
 marry, it would be somebody whom he would 
 not like at all." 
 
 She looked up as she spoke, and saw Jesse, 
 who had come in silently. He w^as looking 
 her way, and their eyes met ; hers sank 
 again, and she blushed crimson. Jesse turned 
 and left the room instantly. Mrs. Freeman
 
 IN THE BOAT. 137 
 
 saw nothing, and continued talking ; but little 
 of Avhat she said was heard by May. Jesse 
 hastened through the parlour and shop, and 
 gained the street, almost overwhelmed with 
 the sudden revelation that glance had given, 
 bewildered with the glimpse of unlooked-for 
 happiness he had caught. He would have 
 thought nothing of her saying that she should 
 marry some one whom her uncle would not 
 approve — it was like one of her wild, wayward 
 speeches ; but as her eyes encountered his, 
 he had seen such an expression of confusion 
 and distress overspread her face, as to oblige 
 him to apply the words to himself. An older 
 man miq-ht have been less confident, and micrht 
 have doubted whether some other actual lover 
 mio-ht not then have been in her thoughts ; 
 but at twenty, love is more hopeful, and he 
 interpreted her blush to his own advantage. 
 But he did not go into the house again, he 
 had seen too much pain and embarrassment 
 in her look to wish to meet her again till 
 she sent for him ; and he thought it very 
 likely that she, in her waywardness, would 
 now keep away from him till she thought he
 
 138 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 had forgotten her own self-betrayal. He 
 half made up his mind he ought to walk up 
 the street, and so be out of the way when 
 she came through the shop ; nevertheless he 
 was still lingering near the door when she 
 did come. But she had entirely forgotten 
 her momentary indiscretion and confusion ; 
 she was looking for him to give her sym- 
 pathy in her anxiety. 
 
 " Jesse, I'll go home now, but not in the 
 fly. I want to talk to you. Can't you take 
 me by the water ? " 
 
 Jesse's heart gave a bound, but he answered 
 very quietly, " Yes, if you like ; but my boat 
 is at the Hermitage. Will you wait while I 
 fetch it?" 
 
 " No ; take one of those," she answered, 
 pointing to the boats drawn up on the beach 
 at the bottom of the street. " I must have 
 you row me home, for I want to talk to you. 
 Go to the Lion, and tell them I shall not 
 want the fly again." 
 
 And while he ran across to the inn-yard, 
 she limped down the street, crossed the 
 shingle, and had taken her place in a small
 
 IN THE BOAT. 139 
 
 boat before he joined her. Jesse would have 
 exercised a right of selection among the craft 
 lying on the beach ; but as she was already- 
 seated in it, and complained of having hurt 
 her foot in walking those few yards, he said 
 nothing, but called a fisherman to help him 
 to shove it off, and ran down after it, and 
 jumped in. 
 
 May had already taken the helm. '' Row 
 straight out," she said impatiently. " No ; 
 don't go along the shore ; row out straight." 
 
 She spoke with all her old imperiousness ; 
 but Jesse obeyed without hesitation, and went 
 out to sea nearly a mile ; but at last he 
 stayed his efforts. " I think we had better 
 not go farther out, there will be wind. Shall 
 I turn towards home ?" 
 
 " No ; not yet," said May, who had sat in 
 perfect silence all the time. " I don't want 
 to get home yet. You need not go farther 
 out if you don't like ; let us stay here. I 
 have something to say to you, and we can't 
 get out of hearing on shore you know." 
 
 She looked strangely excited, and he listened 
 in wondering anxiety.
 
 140 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " Jesse, I won't go to school. I am deter- 
 mined. I'll run away, and hide myself from 
 my uncle. I will, indeed I will," she cried, 
 her little hand grasping the side of the boat 
 almost convulsively. " I won't go ; I'm re- 
 solved I won't." 
 
 "Send you to school!" said Jesse, in his 
 astonishment, stopping rowing, and holding 
 the oars suspended over the water. " Send 
 you away from Sandmouth ?" 
 
 "Yes; to a school among children. I, 
 who am almost a woman. He says he is 
 determined to do it." She paused, waiting to 
 hear an indignant exclamation from Jesse, 
 but there was none. Dismay and grief kept 
 him silent. For one hour he had been in- 
 toxicated with hope. He had madly fancied 
 that her love for him would overstep the 
 boundaries of their respective stations in life ; 
 and now he heard a sentence of eternal sepa- 
 ration in this word " school." It was not only 
 distance that would divide them, but wealth 
 and education would separate them more than 
 a thousand miles of space. She would become 
 a lady, proud of her acquirements and posi-
 
 IN THE BOAT. I4I 
 
 tion, and he must be forgotten, or remembered 
 only as the rough sailor who once rowed her 
 boat whenever she ordered him. 
 
 May saw Jesse's face change, and though 
 she could not understand his thoughts, she 
 saw distress in it. " I will not go to his 
 school, I am determined. I will run away ; 
 yes, I am resolved I will. You will help me 
 to go away, Jesse, will you not ?" 
 
 " I don't know where you could go to," 
 said Jesse; "and Mr. Halton would find you 
 out if you did." 
 
 "Not if I were resolved to hide myself," 
 said May, her eyes sparkling with anger. " I 
 would go anywhere, I would live amongst 
 the poorest people in any little cottage ; I 
 would go any distance, if I could only escape 
 from going to school. I know it will kill me. 
 I know I shall die there, shut up all day in 
 the house, instead of being out here in the 
 fresh wind. I am determined I won't go. I 
 will find some poor people to hide me in 
 their cottage, and let me live with them." 
 
 " You could not ; you could not bear it when 
 you tried," said Jesse, shocked at the idea.
 
 142 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " I should not care. I would do it if you 
 would only help me," said May, now fairly 
 crying. " I would rather work with them all 
 day salting herrings, than be in that school. 
 I shall die there ; remember I can't even walk 
 out with my foot. I should never get a 
 breath of fresh air there. I shall fall ill 
 directly. It is cruel of you not to help me." 
 
 " I would help you all I could," Jesse 
 replied ; " but what can I do ? Don't cry, dear 
 Miss May, don't." 
 
 " Well I know it does no good to cry," 
 answered May, as she wiped her eyes ; " but 
 I can't think what to do." 
 
 There was a long pause. She was turning 
 over in her mind various schemes of escape. 
 Jesse looked up at the sky, and thought it 
 was time to row homewards, for the wind was 
 not far off. He turned the boat's head towards 
 the shore, and pulled very steadily. 
 
 " I don't want to go home," said May. 
 
 " Ay, but we must," he replied laconically. 
 " Sit on that side more." 
 
 "I'll tell you what," he began, after he had 
 been rowing for some minutes. " I think I
 
 IN THE BOAT. 1 43 
 
 know of a. place you might go and hide your- 
 self in, if you are really resolved to go." 
 
 " I am resolved, whether you help me or 
 not. Where is it ?" 
 
 " Well, it is the cottage Grannie was speaking 
 of at Filby." 
 
 " Your cottage ? But who lives there ?" 
 
 " Why, you know Betty Burton, the pretty 
 girl who helps the woman as makes your 
 dresses. Her folks live at Filby. She is 
 going to marry a shipmate of mine, that is 
 Sam Burton. He is her cousin. He is there 
 ■with Will Cousins in Lockwood's lugger, — out 
 there, look, — while he stays on shore. He is 
 going to marry Betty very soon ; and I have 
 promised him he shall have the cottage to 
 live in, as it's near Yarmouth, where he will 
 find work ; and hard by Filby too where her 
 folks are. If you was to go and live with 
 them, nobody would ever think of looking for 
 you there ; and she is a nice, tidy girl, and 
 it would be a comfortable, respectable place 
 for you." 
 
 "Jesse, you are so good!" cried May, in 
 rapture. " You always help me when no one
 
 144 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 else could. I shall be so comfortable with 
 Betty. I will go. Oh, do go and arrange all 
 about it. Row home quick." 
 
 " I am rowing home, but it don't seem as 
 we made any headway," replied Jesse, turning 
 to look at the distant shore. " This is a queer 
 craft; she seems as she could do nothing but 
 drift with the tide. We are as far off as we 
 were a quarter of an hour ago." 
 
 " We are in the tideway, are not we ? " 
 asked May, meaning by that a strong current 
 setting seawards, which she knew was hard 
 to pull against. 
 
 " Yes, we are ; and I can't get her to move 
 against it. I would not mind, but I see the 
 wind is coming, and I want to get in. It will 
 blow hard to-night." 
 
 " Well, never mind ; it is not coming yet," 
 said May, watching the distant foam caps. 
 " You can rest a bit. You look quite hot." 
 
 " Yes ; I can't hardly stir her against the 
 tide for all my rowing. I never saw such a 
 queer boat. I should think she was built to 
 float on a pond in some gentleman's park ; 
 she is not fit for sea. I wonder who brought 
 her down here ! "
 
 IN THE BOAT. I45 
 
 " Well, if she floated out with the tide, she 
 will float easily in with it," said May cheerily. 
 " Do rest yourself. Don't do any more than 
 just keep her from going out any farther." 
 
 " But that's all I've been doing all this 
 time," Jesse answered. " However, the tide will 
 turn soon. I hope the wind won't come with it." 
 
 He pulled a few vigorous strokes to recover 
 the distance they had drifted during the last 
 few minutes, and then rested on his oars. 
 
 " I'll go to-night, and see Sam, and tell him 
 you will want to be a lodger with his wife, and 
 hear how soon he expects to be married ; but I 
 know the banns are not up yet. They are to 
 be put up at Filby church. Sam or she must 
 go and stay at Filby, I suppose, a bit. Sam 
 is in the luo^orer now," Tesse added, directinof 
 May's attention to a vessel that lay at some 
 distance, black in the decreasing^ liorht. 
 
 May pleased herself by following out the 
 dark lines of the rigging against the clear 
 expanse of sky that lay between the water and 
 the clouds ; but Jesse took his oars, and began 
 to row again. 
 
 " You need not waste time taking me to the 
 
 VOL. T. L
 
 I4t) WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 Hermitage now," she said. " Pull ashore at the 
 town, and I can have a fly to go back." 
 
 " We are nearer the Hermitage than the 
 town now, we have drifted so far southard," 
 said Jesse ; " besides, I want to go and pull 
 my own boat up on the shingle, for it will be a 
 rough night." 
 
 May looked at him. She had never seen 
 him rowing in that way before. Large drops 
 of perspiration stood on his forehead. 
 
 " Look at the lugger," he answered in reply 
 to her questioning glance. " She is making 
 all ready ; they know it is coming on hard." 
 
 The distant foam caps were now invisible in 
 the fading light, but May saw the streak of 
 clear sky growing broader, and the clouds 
 overhead hurrying fast along, and she saw 
 Jesse cast an anxious look at the shore, still 
 as far off as ever. " The wind is coming," 
 she said ; " shall we get ineasily, Jesse ? " 
 
 " Oh, I would not mind it at all in my own 
 boat," he replied impatiently. " I would run 
 you in before it in ten minutes, but this damned 
 craft won't stir a yard, and if it comes on to 
 blow look ! there it comes."
 
 IN THE BOAT. 1 4/ 
 
 He was silent. May saw the wind strike 
 the water near the lugger, and saw her careen 
 over under its violence ; in another moment 
 it was blowing the light spray from the waves 
 into her face ; and after a few minutes the 
 water began to feel its influence, the waves 
 grew higher, and though the clumsy boat also 
 felt the wind, and began to move landward, 
 May saw that Jesse was nearly exhausted with 
 his previous efforts, and could take but little 
 advantage of the change in their course. There 
 was cause for alarm, she felt ; and she asked no 
 questions till the dashing of a wave over the 
 side of the boat made her first scream and 
 then laugh. 
 
 " Any more of that ?" she asked, shaking the 
 water from her cloak, and wiping her forehead 
 with her cambric handkerchief 
 
 " Ay, plenty more ; it's lucky we have the 
 pail," said Jesse. " Sit still where you are ; 
 there is another coming." And another did 
 come with a vengeance, and threw twenty 
 gallons of water into the boat. Jesse swore 
 a deep oath, and May sprang up in real terror. 
 " Let us bale it out. Where is the pail ? "
 
 . 148 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " Sit down, you," he cried impatiently, 
 "you'll go over else. Hold fast by that thwart; 
 there's no water to signify." 
 
 But splash after splash, the water fell into 
 the boat ; and at last Jesse gave May per- 
 mission to take the pail and bale it out ; she 
 did so, working with a strength which she 
 had hardly been conscious of possessing. 
 
 The wind increased, and the rain, which had 
 been falling in solitary large drops suddenly 
 poured down in a blinding sheet ; while the 
 boat one moment rolled over to her gunwale, 
 and then was deluged by a wave dashing over 
 the side, undoing in an instant all the work 
 of the baling ; yet May hardly recognised the 
 danger. " Courage, Jesse," she said cheerfully, 
 as she paused to take breath ; " the wind will 
 blow us on shore. It's only having patience." 
 
 As she spoke, the boat gave a sudden lurch, 
 and she lost her footing and fell. Jesse's arm 
 caught her, and saved her from going overboard 
 — and the boat again righted, but he had lost his 
 hold of one of the oars and it was gone hope- 
 lessly. May saw an expression of dismay on 
 his face, and felt their case was growing des-
 
 IN THE BOAT. 1 49 
 
 perate. He took the pail from her, and began 
 baling. Fortunately for them, but little more 
 water came in ; the wind was so heavy as to 
 press down the waves, and it was only oc- 
 casionally that one came over the gunwale ; 
 but the boat, while going ahead one moment, 
 turned round the next and drifted broadside. 
 
 "We are driving towards the land, are we 
 not ? " May asked, in as firm a tone as she 
 could command. " Yes, if we reach it," he 
 answered, in a low voice. May screamed in 
 terror. 
 
 " Are we really in danger? Oh, we can't be !'* 
 she cried, clinging to him in agony. He put 
 his arm round her, as if to protect her ; and 
 indeed his grasp alone kept her from going 
 overboard, whenever the boat rose suddenly 
 upon the crest of the wave, or rolled over before 
 it. May's arm was clasped round his neck. 
 " Shall we get back ? " she asked, this time 
 in a whisper. 
 
 " No, dear ; no," he answered sadly. " She 
 will go down the first sea she ships: it can't 
 be long first. Oh, why did I bring you here 
 to kill you ? "
 
 150 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " Oh, don't say so, Jesse — don't," she sobbed, 
 hiding her face on his shoulder, " they would 
 have taken me away from you, — they can't 
 now. And now we shall go to mamma. I 
 don't mind." 
 
 Jesse's kisses answered hers ; but he turned, 
 and tried to think of some means of saving 
 her yet. He wanted to bind her fast with a 
 cord to the remaining oar, but she begged 
 him not. 
 
 " Oh, no ; it's of no use, Jesse. Tie my arm to 
 yours, let us both keep near when we go down." 
 
 " Oh, I have you," he answered, clasping 
 her tight. " I won't let you go." 
 
 They sat still clasped in each other's arms. 
 The boat, was drifting helplessly broadside on 
 over the water ; the darkness hid all from them 
 but the waves close by ; but May thought she 
 heard the sound of the waves rattling on the 
 shingle, and fancied they were nearing the beach. 
 
 " Are we near the shore, Jesse ? " she asked, 
 raising her head from where it lay on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " I don't know," he answered; "but it won't 
 help us if we are."
 
 IN THE BOAT. I5I 
 
 " I wish you had not tied my arm to yours. 
 Untie me. If you were alone you could 
 swim. Untie my arm." 
 
 " If I could save myself, I could you too," 
 Jesse replied, kissing her forehead. 
 
 Just then a huge wave lifted the boat, and 
 flung it round ; the noise of the water strik- 
 ing the shore grew plainer amidst the roar 
 of the sea. 
 
 "Is there any hope, Jesse?" May asked 
 again. 
 
 " None at all, dear. She will go to pieces 
 the moment she touches the shingle." 
 
 May again dropped her head on his shoulder. 
 She was faint and numb, and was almost un- 
 conscious of anything except of his arm tightly 
 clasping her. Suddenly he bent down and 
 kissed her. " Good-bye, darling, — good-bye ; 
 it's coming." 
 
 May looked up to see a great wave rolling 
 upon them, — foaming white over their heads. 
 Then came a roar of water, and a violent shock, 
 and she was conscious of no more.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 DRIFTING. 
 
 May waked up with the feeling that an 
 eternity had passed. Some one was rubbing 
 her hands and chafing her temples. It was 
 Jesse, she knew. 
 
 " Are we on shore ? " she asked faintly. 
 " Where are we ? oh ! we are safe ? " and 
 she burst into a long sobbing fit. 
 
 "Yes; all right," said Jesse, as, reassured 
 there could not be much the matter if May 
 chose to cry over it, he rose from his knees, 
 and wrung the water from his blue jersey, 
 and wiped the blood from his knuckles, 
 which were sorely scarred. " Are you hurt 
 at all, dear ? " he asked, again kneeling down 
 by her. 
 
 " No; not at all. Where is the boat } Did 
 you swim ashore with me ? " 
 
 " No ; nobody could have done that, on 
 the stones out there ; that wave carried us 
 right in. I have never seen such a wave
 
 DRIFTING. 153 
 
 on this coast before : it flung us right upon 
 the sand, and out of the boat. I had hold 
 of you, and I got on my feet, and ran up 
 here as I could ; but I think no other wave 
 has come up near so high, for she lies there, 
 all stove in. Can you get up, dear ? " 
 
 " Yes. Where are we ? " said May, rising 
 with his help. 
 
 "Not far from home, — your home I mean. 
 I'll get you there, and go back and tell them 
 we are safe, or poor Grannie will be think- 
 ing we are drowned." 
 
 May could hardly stand against the heavy 
 wind. Jesse carried her up the beach, on 
 to the road where the hedge sheltered them 
 a little ; and as the Hermitage was fortunately 
 not more than a hundred yards off, he soon 
 got her there. Green was sitting in tranquil 
 ignorance of their danger, supposing her 
 young lady was detained at the shop by the 
 rain. " Merciful Lord ! is she dead ? " she 
 shrieked, as on opening the door, she saw her 
 darling lifted over the threshold, her face white, 
 and streaked with blood, and the water stream- 
 ing from her hair and dress.
 
 154 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " No, God be thanked ; she is all right," 
 replied Jesse, placing her on the sofa; "but 
 she'll want taking care of." As he spoke, 
 the gardener came in. 
 
 " Praise be to God you are safe," he 
 exclaimed as he saw them ; " I heard in 
 the town you were on the water. You had 
 better get home, Jesse, quick : Mrs. Freeman 
 is going." 
 
 " Oh, Jesse, don't go till you have had 
 some wine," cried May beseechingly ; but 
 he was off, and they heard him running 
 fast along the road through the tempest. 
 Green closed the door aoainst the wind, 
 gave May some hot spirits and water, and 
 put her to bed, asking no questions, but 
 intent only on quieting and soothing her. 
 " There ; I hope she will do, she has gone 
 to sleep," she said, coming back to the 
 kitchen, where James stood drying his wet 
 clothes ; " but ^ think she has been saved 
 by a miracle, just." 
 
 May woke from sleep, comparatively well, 
 but very weak, and in pain, both from 
 her ankle, and many bruises. She could not
 
 DRIFTING. I 5 5 
 
 have got up even if Green had allowed 
 it. She sent James to Sandmouth to inquire 
 after Jesse; and he brought back word that 
 Mrs. Freeman was dead. ■ May sat up to 
 write a few words of sympathy to Jesse, 
 and lay down again exhausted with this 
 slight effort. 
 
 For the next week she did not see Jesse. 
 She heard he was well, but too stiff from 
 his hurts and bruises to leave the house ; 
 and she could well believe it, for she her- 
 self did not care to move from her bed. 
 She did get up, however, and dressed, and 
 went to the window to look out ; she could 
 see, at some distance on the beach, the 
 fragments of the boat, and from time to 
 time two or three Sandmouth fishermen 
 would saunter up and look at the wreck, 
 and talk over it. They would turn and 
 point to the Hermitage, as if they were 
 talking of the wonderful escape she had 
 had. May watched these groups, and wished 
 she could hear what they said of Jesse, 
 and then was glad to lie down on her sofa 
 again.
 
 156 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 As the remembrance of that terrible hour 
 of suspense and horror in the boat grew 
 less continually present to her, she recollected 
 the other troubles that had occupied her 
 attention before the tempest rose. She re- 
 read her uncle's letter; and as her indignant 
 spirit writhed under its cold hard words of 
 blame, she grew more determined in her 
 resolution to escape going to a school prison 
 by running away. She wondered whether 
 Jesse in his present grief had remembered 
 his promise to help her, and waited im- 
 patiently for an opportunity to speak to him. 
 The idea of school now made her fairly 
 desperate. She would be divided from him. 
 perhaps for years ; and as she thought of 
 this, her intention of running off became no 
 longer a mere wild impulse, but a settled 
 resolve that she cherished with the obstinate 
 pertinacity of a child, and pondered over 
 night and day. She knew she would have 
 to live hard in Betty's cottage, but she was 
 prepared for that ; and indeed to a girl who 
 had for the last three months spent the 
 best part of every day in an open boat or
 
 DRIFTING. I 5 7 
 
 on the sea-shore, the rough accommodation 
 of a clean country cottage was far less re- 
 pelling in prospect than the irksome decorum 
 and confinement of a schoolroom. She did 
 not bestow a second thought on the dis- 
 comforts of her future place of refuge. 
 
 She wanted to see Jesse, and know if 
 he had spoken to Sam ; but she had to 
 wait a week. On the morning of Mrs. 
 Freeman's funeral she ordered the fly, and 
 went with Green to be present in the 
 churchyard. She knew the people of Sand- 
 mouth would expect this mark of respect 
 from her. They all knew her affection for 
 the old woman, and were all talking of her 
 late adventure in the storm with Jesse ; and 
 no one would think it strange that after as- 
 sisting at the interment, she should, even at 
 the churchyard gate, stop to shake hands 
 with Josiah and with Jesse. 
 
 " Come to me to-morrow if you can," she 
 said, hurriedly. " If you can, bring the boat." 
 
 Jesse's eyes thanked her; while Josiah 
 said, " Won't you be afraid to go on the 
 water aeain ? "
 
 158 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " Not in any boat he thinks safe," she 
 answered undauntedly; and she turned away, 
 and got into the fly. Jesse assisted her in, 
 and she whispered, " Come with the boat ; 
 it's the only way to be alone ; " and she went 
 home to wait for the morrow. 
 
 Jesse did not keep her waiting the next 
 day, and came early to say the boat was 
 at the landing-stage. May limped down 
 there, and took her place in the little craft, 
 not without a slight tremor as the recollec- 
 tion of her recent danger came over her. 
 
 " Are you afraid, a little ? " Jesse asked 
 with a smile. " This boat is safe, and we 
 will keep close to shore. 
 
 " I have seen Sam," Jesse continued, going 
 at once to business ; " and he says he is quite 
 willing you should live with Betty. But, 
 dear, you will have to keep indoors and 
 never let the neighbours see you, else they 
 will talk of you in the village, and your 
 uncle will hear of it. You must let Betty 
 say you are her friend, and arc ill." 
 
 " She may say I am blind, or dumb, or 
 anything, if she can keep me safe," said
 
 DRIFTING. 159 
 
 May. " I would hide in a cave, Jesse, sooner 
 than eo to school. I should never be allowed 
 
 o 
 
 to write to you. I should never hear of you. 
 If I could not go to Betty, you should take 
 me across to Holland, Jesse." 
 
 Jesse smiled, and shook his head ; but he was 
 too wise to say more than, " You would not be 
 so safe anywhere as at Filby. They will never 
 look for you there, and you must be with 
 people you know." 
 
 " Then it is settled. And how soon am I to 
 go ? How soon ? for there is no time to be 
 lost," said May with energy. 
 
 " Why, but there's no such hurry, is there ? 
 You aren't going to school till after Christmas ; 
 and there is plenty of time. Anyhow, it can't 
 be yet. Sam isn't married yet ; he is going 
 to-morrow to Filby to have the banns put 
 up, and I shall go with him in the lugger ; she 
 has not sailed yet. She lost her bowsprit in 
 the storm. Josh says I must go and take pos- 
 session of the cottage, for the man there has 
 not paid the rent for some time ; and he says he 
 will go with me to help me to do that, because 
 I know nothing of that sort of thing."
 
 l6o WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " I dare say you could do it," said May, who 
 had no doubts of Jesse's capacity. " But has 
 he managed to get the money he wanted ? I 
 know he wanted it very much, or he would not 
 have asked me to write to my uncle. I wish I 
 had not, but he asked me." 
 
 "He ought not to have done that, however 
 much he wanted it," replied Jesse, gravely. 
 " It was wrong of him to make you write ; but 
 he is in trouble I think, and to-morrow I shall 
 tell him he is welcome to have half of what 
 poor Grannie left me." 
 
 " Give it him all, Jesse. You don't want it. 
 You live in his house you know." 
 
 "Yes; but I may as well pay "him for my 
 board and lodging as give him all, and let him 
 keep me. He would have to do that unless 
 I went to sea again, or got something to do 
 on shore. I think I might get on one of 
 the Yarmouth colliers that go up and down 
 between there and the Tyne. If you go 
 to Filby I will do so, but you will want 
 money, — or," added Jesse, hastening to dis- 
 miss a supposition whiclj he thought might 
 be painful to May's pride, " or at least Betty
 
 DRIFTING. l6l 
 
 will. She can't make you comfortable on Sam's 
 wages." 
 
 " That is true." May admitted it. 
 
 " But," said Jesse, after a pause, " you do not 
 mean to stop hiding yourself long from your 
 uncle, do you, dear ? It would not be right at 
 all. You will send him word why you are 
 gone, and say you will come home at once if 
 he will promise not to send you to school, but 
 let you have a governess again." 
 
 May had not made up her mind on that 
 matter. Jesse continued, — 
 
 "It would be very wrong in me to help you 
 run away, and hide a long time among poor 
 rough folks like them. You are a lady, and 
 must learn the things a lady knows, — you must, 
 dear. Write to your uncle, and promise to be 
 obedient and come back, if he will send a lady 
 down here to teach you, without sending you to 
 school." 
 
 " I suppose I must," said May, unwillingly. 
 "Yes, I will, if you think it right." 
 
 " I wish," said Jesse, emboldened by this con- 
 cession, " I do wish as you would write now, 
 and ask him if he could not send a lady here 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 1 62 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 now, and promise to be very good, and do 
 all she tells you." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense, Jesse. I know he would 
 not, he is so unkind ; he would only send 
 me to school directly — before Christmas even. 
 No ; I will get quite safe away before I write. 
 Oh, Jesse, you promised you would help me, 
 and now you are going against me too. Oh, 
 don't you go against me !" 
 
 " You know I wouldn't," he said, a little re- ' 
 proachfully. " I will do anything you want. 
 I'm not against you. I only wish as you 
 would try and get him to give you a governess 
 again, before you think of running away, it 
 would be much more like a lady." 
 
 " I don't want to be a lady," said May, " I 
 want to live among people I love. I don't 
 want you to leave me, — ever," she said im- 
 pulsively, and holding out both her hands to 
 him. It was a child's action, but there was 
 a woman's devoted love in her eyes that told 
 him what the action meant. Jesse caught the 
 oars both in his left hand, and with the right 
 met the offered clasp. 
 
 "God bless you, dear!" he said, when he
 
 DRIFTING. 163 
 
 could Speak ; "but you must not promise now. 
 You are too young. It is not right to let you." 
 
 " I am not too young," said May. " I know 
 what I promise ; and I say it now, because 
 then when they try to make me forget you, 
 I can say I have promised to marry you, and 
 I can't break my word. Shall it not be so ? " 
 she asked, looking brightly and trustfully 
 into his eyes. Another clasp of the hand was 
 the only answer, for all this time they were 
 close to shore, and under the eyes probably of 
 the gardener who was collecting seaweed to 
 burn ; and any other token of plighted faith 
 was impossible. 
 
 After a long interval of conversation too 
 incoherent to be remembered afterwards, May 
 returned to the subject of the governess. "If 
 he will send her — I wish he would let me and 
 her go and live at Rawlstone, in the village 
 I mean. There must be little houses that would 
 do for us till I can have my own ; and I should 
 get to know all the people there, and you 
 could come over whenever you are at Yar- 
 mouth or at Filby." 
 
 " Yes ; I could come every fortnight or so,"
 
 164 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 he answered, entering into her castle building 
 as fully as she did, " But dear Miss May, — 
 no. May, my darling, I mean, — do think about 
 learning what the governess will teach you. 
 Let her teach you to be a lady, — do." 
 
 " Then, Jesse, you must learn to be a gentle- 
 man, that's all." 
 
 But he blushed painfully, and stammered, 
 " Oh, no, no, dear ; you know that can't be 
 ever. It's no use talking." 
 
 " Oh, Jesse, dear, I don't mean to grieve 
 you," cried May, much distressed. " I don't want 
 you different from what you are ; but, indeed, 
 you could be a gentleman, I'm sure, if I am 
 ever to be a lady. You are ever so much 
 cleverer than me, and any one would call you 
 a gentleman if you were dressed as one." 
 
 Jesse demurred: "No, they would not; 
 there's lots of things a gentleman does as is 
 different, I know. I know one the minute I 
 see him, and not by his dress. It's no use your 
 trying to make me a gentleman, dear." 
 
 " Well, then I'm sure I don't care if I can't. 
 I can't love you better than I do," she replied. 
 " Only I don't care about becoming a lady
 
 DRIFTING. 165 
 
 .if it is to make any difference between us, 
 that's all. Now put me ashore, Jesse. It is 
 growing cold, and I did not think it was so 
 late. There is Green looking for me. So you 
 sail in the lugger to-night. I shall think of you 
 in the morning when you'll be at Yarmouth." 
 
 The next morning May saw from her win- 
 dow that the lugger was gone, and rejoiced 
 that the wind was soft, as Jesse and Josiah 
 were on board. She looked a long time at the 
 sea and sky, and then sat down to some needle- 
 work, — ^the only occupation she liked or would 
 ever attend to, — and reflected on Jesse's wish 
 that she should write to Mr. Halton, and beg 
 him to let her have another governess. She 
 had said she would not write, but now that 
 Jesse was away and on the sea, his wishes were 
 law to her, and she resolved to follow his 
 advice, and see what would come of it. She 
 sat down, and Avrote a long letter to her uncle, 
 entreating him in the most earnest manner not 
 to send her to school, where she must be un- 
 happy, but to try her with a governess again. 
 She dilated much on her lameness, which pre- 
 vented her takinor walkin?" exercise, and ren-
 
 1 66 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 dered the boat necessary to her health ; and 
 she promised that she would show perfect 
 obedience to any governess he chose for her ; 
 though while she wrote this she mentally 
 reserved to herself the right of keeping up a 
 constant intercourse with Jesse, whether the 
 governess approved it or no. She was unused 
 to the begging mood ; but she entreated and 
 besought with all her power, and she thought 
 it would be impossible for her uncle to refuse 
 her request. While she was writing this letter, 
 Jesse on board the lugger, with Josiah, was pre- 
 paring the details of their proposed plan. He 
 was telling his brother how he intended to 
 let his friend Sam live in the cottage at Filby 
 as long as he pleased. Mr. Freeman was 
 vexed that the few shillings of weekly rent 
 should thus be lost ; but as he saw Jesse was 
 obstinate, he let the matter drop ; for he was 
 intent on persuading him to lend him the two 
 hundred pounds his grandmother had left him 
 in gold. 
 
 Josiah Freeman, having woed Dame For- 
 tune with more energy than prudence, on the 
 principle that faint heart never won fair lady.
 
 DRIFTING. 167 
 
 was now in serious difficulties. He had been 
 tempted by an apparently low price to buy the 
 Hermitage, when he ought to have kept his 
 earnings in his own hands against a rainy day ; 
 and now the rainy day had come, he knew 
 not where to turn. He had borrowed money to 
 conclude his bargain, and had had to borrow 
 again to repair the roof. His new corn and 
 coal business did not succeed ; he was heavily 
 in debt for the stores he had laid in, and he 
 had been looking forward to the little legacy 
 from his grandmother as a means of keeping 
 his creditors in good humour until he could 
 tide over the evil day. But the legacy proved 
 smaller than he expected, and Mrs. Freeman 
 left it to Jesse, whom she thought had been 
 unfairly dealt with by Josiah in the matter of 
 the small property their father had left. This 
 might be justice, but it was very inconvenient 
 to Josiah who was at his wits' end to know 
 what to do. But he only told Jesse that he 
 was in great distress for ready money, and he 
 only told him this when they stood on the deck 
 of the lugger, as sailing before a fresh breeze, 
 she was entering- Yarmouth Roads. The free-
 
 1 68 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 hearted sailor immediately offered him three- 
 fourths of his legacy as a loan. " You should 
 have it all," h& added, "only then I should be 
 a burden on you for my board and lodging, 
 and I want some ready money myself." 
 
 " You are a noble fellow, Jesse," said Josiah ; 
 " you are very good to me." 
 
 " Well, you brought me up, and I would 
 like to do more for you if I could." 
 
 " Ah, if you were a rich man, lad " 
 
 " Then I would see you fairly started again, 
 and with no makeshift business like this," said 
 Jesse laughing. But Mr. Freeman had re- 
 solved it should not be his fault if his brother 
 were not some day a wealthy man. 
 
 " You will never be rich, lad, not if being 
 bailiff at Rawlstone is to be your first step up. 
 You might be at Rawlstone, and master of it 
 too if you liked. Don't you know you could ? " 
 Jesse's blush told Josiah things were better 
 than he had hoped. 
 
 "If you were to ask her to marry you, 
 do you think she would ? " he continued. 
 
 " Ay ! but it is not honourable to ask her 
 while she is so young," said Jesse.
 
 DRIFTING. 169 
 
 Josiah had in the course of business 
 pretty well rubbed his notions of honour 
 smooth from any inconvenient angles, but 
 still he had not been born deficient in that 
 quality, and this was of service to him by en- 
 abling him to understand his brother's scru- 
 ples, and teaching him how to overcome 
 them. 
 
 "It might not seem honourable if things 
 were different," he said ; " but if she goes 
 to a great school with other young ladies, 
 they will laugh her out of her liking for a 
 sailor lad, and your chance will be gone. 
 She will never look at you again if she 
 once goes to school." 
 
 " She won't go to school, that is settled," 
 said Jesse, knocking the ashes out of his 
 pipe, and walking away; he was very angry 
 with Josiah, he had just been prepared to 
 tell him of the plan he and May had ar- 
 ranged relative to Sam and Betty ; but he 
 could not bring himself to go on talking 
 now, his very love was insulted by Josiah's 
 mercenary calculations, and in a vague dim 
 way he recognised that he was himself en-
 
 I/O WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 trusted with the safe keeping of the self- 
 willed girl, from the very power his affec- 
 tion gave him over her. The poor unedu- 
 cated sailor could not have explained his 
 feelings to Josiah, or even to himself; but 
 he felt this nevertheless, and his brother's 
 words jarred on him. He went forward to 
 assist his friends in lowering the anchor, 
 and did not come within reach of Mr. Free- 
 man's tongue as long as he could avoid 
 him on any pretext. 
 
 But after they landed and were walking 
 through the lanes towards Filby, Sam ling- 
 ered behind to chat with a passer-by, and 
 Jesse saw he must use the opportunity to 
 speak to Josiah. 
 
 "Josh, Miss May says she won't go to 
 school, she will rather hide herself some- 
 where in the country where her uncle can't 
 find her till he promises to let her remain 
 at home ; and she says I must help her." 
 And he briefly told all the plan he and 
 May had arranged. Josiah's astonishment 
 kept him silent at first, — 
 
 " Run away and hide herself, and you
 
 DRIFTING. 171 
 
 help her ! " he gasped, when he could speak. 
 " What a fool the girl is, and you too. 
 She shall do no such thing. I'll stop her 
 myself. What would Mr. Halton say ? " 
 
 " Well ; he won't know where she is till 
 she chooses to write," said Jesse, simply. 
 " She will write and tell him she will come 
 back if he will promise not to send her to 
 school. She will be only a week or two 
 with Betty, I dare say. I can't help it, Josh. 
 I've tried to get her to stay at home, but 
 it's no use, she will go." 
 
 " She can't get away unless you help her, 
 lame as she is," said Mr. Freeman ; but 
 his active mind was already considering 
 whether this intended freak of May's could 
 not be turned to profit. If it could not, 
 why, it should not be allowed to take 
 place to irritate Mr. Halton, and bring dis- 
 credit on the family ; but was it not possible 
 that this childish prank might end in securing 
 her for Jesse's wife ? Mr. Freeman saw a 
 possibility so unlooked for, a prospect so mag- 
 nificent, opening before him for his brother, 
 and, as a consequence, for himself, that he
 
 172 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 Stopped in his walk to consider the chances. 
 Jesse walked on whistling " Hearts of Oak," 
 and that gave Josiah time to collect his 
 thoughts. He was not long in deciding 
 that Jesse should secure the prize, and not 
 longer in settling how best to drive him 
 into this breach of trust. He soon overtook 
 his brother, and commenced the manoeuvre : 
 but his first step was apparently to oppose 
 the scheme for May's escape. 
 
 ** Well, you blamed me for not being hon- 
 ourable just now," he began, in a tone of severe 
 indignation ; " but all I can say, is, if you 
 encourage Miss Cressingham in such a prank 
 as this, as will ruin her good name for ever, 
 I shall feel it my duty to send word to her 
 uncle, and let him know what you are doing." 
 
 Jesse, who had flushed scarlet as Josiah's 
 meaning dawned upon him, cut him short. 
 "I can take care of that as well as he can, 
 I suppose. I know what is a fit place for 
 my promised wife to live in. Of course I'm 
 not going to stay there, I'm not such a fool ; 
 but a hiding-place from him she shall have, 
 poor girl, and a safe one."
 
 DRIFTING. I JT) 
 
 " Do you mean she has promised to be your 
 wife?" asked Mr. Freeman, hardly able to 
 credit his ears. 
 
 " Yes ; she has. She'll be my wife when 
 she is her own mistress, and can do as she 
 pleases ; and I shall take care she is in a 
 respectable lodging, if she will run away from 
 her uncle," replied Jesse, indignantly, conscious 
 of his right to protect May. Josiah felt as 
 if Heaven were raining plums in his mouth. 
 The train was laid, and he had but to fire it. 
 He proceeded to drive Jesse to extremity. 
 
 " Well ; I tell you I shall feel it my 
 duty to prevent her leaving the Hermitage, 
 unless you make it all ready to be married 
 directly you come here." 
 
 It was Jesse's turn to look astonished. 
 " Married !" he faltered. 
 
 " Ay, married," Josiah replied ; " and the 
 very day you come here. Sam and Betty 
 are to be married in three weeks, and I suppose 
 you can be, too; the banns can be put up 
 for you in the same church, as you are an 
 inhabitant of this parish now, and then you 
 can take your wife where you will."
 
 I 74 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 There was silence for some moments ; and 
 then Mr. Freeman added : " This cottage is 
 yours now, so you belong already to this 
 parish and can have the banns put up here ; 
 and when she is your wife, her uncle can't 
 take her from you." 
 
 Jessie mused a long time on this, but at last 
 replied, " I can't settle to it. Josh, I can't 
 speak to her of it, I must think about it." 
 
 " Oh ! think, by all means," said Mr. Free- 
 man ; " but if you don't make up your mind 
 to marry her now when you can, I am afraid 
 you will never see her again ; for if she once 
 goes to a fine school, she will learn to despise 
 a sailor lad whose brother keeps a little shop 
 in a village. A girl is but a girl ; and though 
 I don't say but what she will fret about you 
 at first, yet in time she will learn to think 
 like her schoolfellows, and forget you. You 
 will never see her again if she goes to that 
 school." 
 
 Jesse made no reply, but walked on in a 
 perplexing reverie, till they came in sight 
 of the cottage. It was in a lane about three 
 miles from Yarmouth, and two from Filby,
 
 DRIFTING. 1 75 
 
 in which parish it stood; there was only one 
 other house near it, and that was about a 
 hundred yards off, near a pond. The cottage 
 was out of repair, the tenant had vacated 
 it suddenly on finding himself called on for 
 the rent, and left it in an indescribably dirty 
 state. " There is a deal to be done here be- 
 fore it can be fit for her to come to," said 
 Josiah, as Jesse looked round in disgust. 
 " However, I will see what can be done. You 
 look about and find out where the damage is, 
 while I go with Sam to Filby to see his folks, 
 and have his banns put up." 
 
 Josiah called Sam and set off with him, 
 and, as soon as they were out of hearing of 
 Jesse, said, " I have been hearing from Jesse 
 how he means to brino- Miss Cressingfham 
 here to stay with your wife. I wonder you 
 should have agreed to such a thing, and she 
 a lady ; I should have thought Betty had had 
 more sense of what was right." 
 
 Sam, much bewildered, stopped, rebuked 
 by Mr. Freeman's tone of moral indignation ; 
 and Josiah continued, " I feel that I am 
 responsible if I let the poor girl go away
 
 176 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 with him, unless they can be married as soon 
 as they come here." 
 
 " Is the young lady sweet upon him ?" asked 
 Sam, in open-mouthed amazement. 
 
 "Is she sweet upon him?" replied Mr. 
 Freeman, contemptuously. " You sailors are 
 all fools alike, I believe. Do you suppose 
 she would run away from her uncle who 
 has always been good to her, and live in a 
 cottage like that, unless she was fond of 
 Jesse ? But I won't let her come. I won't 
 let her leave Sandmouth unless you promise 
 that you will see them married in the church 
 at the same time you and Betty are mar- 
 ried." 
 
 Sam, utterly confounded at this new view 
 of the case, shocked at his own stupidity, 
 and much overawed by Mr. Freeman, pro- 
 mised his aid as he could best give it, and 
 even suggested that the banns might be put 
 up when his own were, and then there could 
 be no difficulty in Jesse and May being 
 married the same day as himself and Betty. 
 Mr, Freeman listened with great attention to 
 this suggestion, affected to consider it seri-
 
 DRIFTING. 177 
 
 ously, and finally gave it his cordial ap- 
 proval. 
 
 At the village of Filby Sam found his 
 uncle, Betty's father, and a troop of relations ; 
 and Josiah had some difficulty in persuading 
 him to come alone with him to find the 
 parish clerk. He got rid, however, of all 
 assistants, saw the clerk alone with Sam, 
 and arranged that the banns should be put 
 up for his brother and May at the same 
 time as his were. 
 
 It seemed rather a dangerous proceeding 
 to allow the dauQrhter of Churchill Cressins;-- 
 ham to be publicly asked in Filby Church, 
 not more than ten miles distant from Rawl- 
 stone ; but in fact the danger of discovery 
 was very slight. There was very little com- 
 munication between Filby and the villages 
 in the next county, and on the other side 
 of Yarmouth ; and the name of Cressingham 
 was not very uncommon among the farmers, 
 as there had in former times been a village 
 bearing it in the vicinity. The parish clerk 
 made no comment when he heard it, and 
 wrote down Margaret Cressingham, of Sand- 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 mouth, in Lincolnshire, with as much indiffer- 
 ence as he had done Betty's name a moment 
 before. If he had no suspicion, Josiah was 
 convinced no one else would have, for his 
 pronunciation of all names was so imperfect 
 that none could be distinguished ; and more- 
 over, he found that the church, being a 
 mile away from the village, seldom numbered 
 a large congregation, the majority of the 
 inhabitants patronising the dissenting chapel 
 in Filby itself. If Sam only kept his counsel 
 Josiah saw all would be safe. 
 
 " Don't you say a word to Jesse, or there 
 will be a devil of a row because we have 
 done it without asking him," he said, as they 
 returned to the cottage in the lane. "If 
 they don't choose to take advantage of it, 
 and she goes sensibly to school, as her uncle 
 wishes her, then there's no harm done; but 
 if she is mad enough to come here with him, 
 I trust to you to see them married fast and 
 properly here. And mind you don't let Jesse 
 go over to Filby while he is here putting 
 the cottage to rights, or may be he will hear 
 of the banns being up, and make a fuss. I
 
 DRIFTING. 1 79 
 
 would take him back to Sandmouth to-mor- 
 row, but I suppose he must stop here a day 
 or two, or he would not be an inhabitant of 
 this parish, and I think that's the law. There 
 is a public-house we passed between here 
 and Yarmouth, at the cross-roads, and we will 
 sleep there to-night." 
 
 They found Jesse talking with the women 
 of the neiorhbourins: cottao^e, — an old woman 
 and her daughter-in-law. „ 
 
 " I have asked Mrs. Tebb to come and 
 clean up the rooms to-morrow," he said. 
 " And what is to be done about furniture ? 
 I never thought of that." 
 
 " Of course you did not," said his brother. 
 " Let you alone for never thinking of any- 
 thing. But I will manage it ; there's a man 
 here in Yarmouth, a furniture broker, owes 
 me a debt, and he will never pay it, so I 
 will go over and take it out in chairs and 
 tables ; and I have at home a lot of pieces 
 of carpet and blankets and such things which 
 are old stock, and will do very well here." 
 
 " I can't pay you for them at present," said 
 Jesse.
 
 l8o WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " Do you think I want you to, when you 
 have lent me all that money ? They are last 
 year's goods, and I'll give you them willingly, 
 if it gives you pleasure to put them here 
 for Sam. You are a good lad, and I wish I 
 could give you a return for your kindness. 
 I suppose you and Sam can whitewash 
 and paper the place, if I get you the 
 things." 
 
 " Of course," said Sam. " I can if he 
 can't ; and we will mend the roof where the 
 rain comes in. I dare say we can get some 
 nails and wood at the Cross Roads." 
 
 To the Cross Roads they went for the 
 night, and the next morning Mr. Freeman 
 procured some lime and brushes from some 
 builder's men who were at the tavern, and 
 set the two young sailors, who considered 
 the thing a capital joke, to whitewash the 
 cottage, to the no small discomfort of Mrs. 
 Tebb, who was cleaning the rooms. He 
 then went to Yarmouth, and there saw one 
 of his creditors, a coal merchant, whom he 
 .satisfied by paying a portion of his debt, 
 and then found the dealer in tables and
 
 DRIFTING. 151 
 
 chairs, and offered to accept payment of him 
 in kind. Before evening he returned in a 
 cart, containing an assortment of cottage fur- 
 niture and kitchen ware, to the cottage, where 
 he found everything very clean and white, 
 and smeUing very damp. They carried in 
 the furniture, gave the key of the house 
 door to Mrs. Tebb, and went out ; but not 
 as before to the Cross Roads, but to Yar- 
 mouth, where Josiah wished to pass Sunday, 
 and where Jesse and Sam found their ship- 
 mates loitering. 
 
 Among his friends Jesse forgot for a while 
 his brother's opposition to his plans, and his 
 insolent proposition in regard to Miss Cres- 
 singham ; but when they returned to Sand- 
 mouth, Josiah went up into the attic to look 
 for the curtain-stuffs and carpetings, and said 
 to his brother, — 
 
 " Had you not better go and tell her what 
 I said ?" and all Jesse's anger blazed out 
 again. But in vain he swore it was all cursed 
 nonsense, and Josh was a damned fool ; 
 Josiah was inflexible, and vowed that he 
 would send word to Mr. Halton if May did
 
 1 82 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 not promise him she would go to church 
 with Jesse directly they got to Yarmouth. 
 
 Jesse was furious ; he would not go to 
 the Hermitage for three days, and then he 
 went in a strangely excited, irritable state 
 of mind. May saw something was wrong, 
 and Spared no pains, no flatteries, to make 
 him good-tempered. She could not succeed, 
 however, for the more amiable and coaxing 
 she was, the greater became the struggle in 
 the poor fellow's mind as to what he should 
 do. He knew but little of the world, and 
 nothing of the law ; but he had an instinct- 
 ive sense that to persuade her to give her- 
 self and her property to him while she was 
 so childishly ignorant, was a dishonourable 
 action. How utterly dishonourable, he could 
 hardly be expected to realize. He knew he 
 loved her heartily and disinterestedly, and 
 that she loved him ; and he thought she 
 would be much happier with him than at 
 the school where her uncle would send her. 
 Still for a few days longer he kept his dis- 
 tress to himself, and said nothing of his 
 perplexity to her.
 
 DRIFTING. 183 
 
 One morning she met him with a smile 
 of conscious deserving, and told him she had 
 followed his advice, and written to Mr. 
 Hal ton to beg him to let her have a gover- 
 ness at Sandmouth. Jesse drew his breath 
 freely again, and felt much relieved. 
 
 "Are you pleased?" she asked, looking 
 up as desirous of praise as a child is when 
 it knows it has acted rightly. 
 
 " Me pleased ? Of course I am, dear, 
 very pleased," he replied ; and he went back 
 rejoicing to his brother, and told him May 
 was not going to run away now. Josiah 
 hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry. 
 It would have been a very good stroke of 
 business to have married his brother to 
 Miss Cressingham; but while Jesse was so 
 blind to his own good, it could not be done ; 
 and if May were left at Sandmouth with a 
 governess, there was not much danger she 
 would forget him. So he professed himself 
 very pleased that the young lady had re- 
 turned to common sense, and sent Jesse 
 over again to Yarmouth in the lugger to 
 pay a visit to the cottage, and take steps 
 to fit it for Sam and Betty's occupation.
 
 184 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 Jesse took little interest in the cottage 
 now, since May was no longer coming to 
 it; but he told Mrs. Tebb to light fires 
 there, and asked Sam to put a cheap paper 
 on the walls, and plant some cabbages in 
 the garden. That done, he went to Yar- 
 mouth, and made inquiries touching the col- 
 liers.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE FORGERY. 
 
 As Mr. Halton delayed answering his niece's 
 letter for a fortnight, May looked upon it 
 as certain he meant to grant her request ; 
 but when he wrote, it was to say he could 
 not and would not alter his plans. He 
 wished her to tell the servants he should 
 not need their services longer, and said he 
 should come and take her to London by 
 the middle of the next month. 
 
 May almost screamed with dismay and 
 anger as she read this letten She was quite 
 insensible to the honour of going to her 
 aunt's house for three or four weeks before 
 going to school ; she merely saw in this a 
 hopeless separation from Jesse ; and when she 
 met him, she was in the wildest distress. 
 
 " There is no help for it. You must take 
 me to Betty ; you promised you would. You 
 cannot forget your promise," she said anxi-
 
 1 86 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 ously, as she saw the look of perplexity 
 and annoyance with which he read the 
 letter. 
 
 "No, dear, no ; not if you wish it," he 
 answered. He had not the heart to say other- 
 wise. He dreaded he should lose her for 
 ever if she were sent to London. He was 
 only orlad she had no suspicion of his bro- 
 ther's insolent proposal. He did his best to 
 soothe her, and promised to go and find 
 some means for taking her away; reminding 
 her, however, of her own promise, that as soon 
 as she was safe in her hiding-place she would 
 write to her uncle, and offer to return on con- 
 dition of not being removed from Sandmouth. 
 May answered she would do this, and Jesse 
 returned to his brother while she went to 
 tell Green and James the astonishing news 
 that they would have to leave the Hermit- 
 age before Christmas. 
 
 But while Jesse had been talking with May, 
 a thunderbolt had fallen on Mr. Freeman, 
 who, on opening his letters, had learned that 
 his chief creditor, the corn factor at Enderby, 
 would wait no longer, and would put an ex-
 
 THE FORGERY. iSj 
 
 ecution in his house in five days if he did 
 not pay him the debts long due to him. He 
 demanded a hundred and sixty pounds at 
 once. Josiah had been trying to borrow it, 
 and had tried vainly, — his credit was gone. 
 His neighbours could not or would not help 
 him, and he saw he was a ruined man. He 
 sat looking round vacantly at the familiar 
 room, with all his household gods around 
 him, thinking how long he had worked and 
 how hard, and how he had denied himself, 
 and saved, to come at last to this. He was 
 roused by his brother's coming in hurriedly, 
 and shutting the door fast, as one who had 
 a secret of which to disburden himself. 
 
 "It's all wrong again, Josh. Mr. Hal ton 
 says she shall go to school, and he will come 
 and fetch her himself, and she says she won't 
 
 go-" 
 
 " What, she means to run off," cried Josiah, 
 springing up, as a sudden gleam of hope 
 flashed upon him. If May were still bent on 
 that mad freak, he might make his brother 
 master of her and her money before another 
 week was out, and for that week he could
 
 1 88 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 perhaps keep off his fate. He trembled all 
 over with excitement as he asked, — 
 
 " And how soon does she mean to go ?" 
 
 " As soon as she can ; but she must wait 
 till Betty is married, and that can't be until 
 Tuesday. They won't have been asked in 
 church three times till Sunday is past." 
 
 " You come and help me get the goods 
 to furnish the cottage," said Josiah, hurrying 
 towards his storeroom. " Or you go and 
 fetch Betty here ; she must make a gown 
 like her own for Miss May. I can't trust 
 my wife with the secret." 
 
 When Betty came, Mr. Freeman gave her 
 a plain stuff dress to make up for May, and 
 told her to take whatever she wanted out of 
 the shop, and trim a bonnet for her also. 
 
 " And mind no one sees you doing the 
 work," he added. And look, here is for you, 
 I've put stuff for curtains and tablecloths in 
 this bale, and here is the carpeting. You 
 can make the cottage look like a little palace. 
 Miss Cressingham will help you to work, 
 but she can't come to you till you are mar- 
 ried, you know."
 
 THE FORGERY. I 89 
 
 " I am afraid," said Jesse, when Betty 
 had left them, " that I'll have to take May 
 over to Yarmouth the same time as Betty ; 
 that is, if it is to be in the lugger ; she sails 
 on Monday." 
 
 " And when she reaches Yarmouth, where 
 will Betty go?" asked Josiah, quickly. 
 
 " Oh ! she can go to Sam's cousin in Yar- 
 mouth ; she is a decent sort of woman, and 
 will take her to Filby in time to get to 
 the church." 
 
 " Very good," said Mr. Freeman. " Well, 
 then, now I'll tell you something. I felt 
 certain all along that somehow or other Miss 
 Cressingham would make you take her to 
 Filby, and nothing would stop her ; so when 
 Sam told them to put his banns up, I just 
 had them put up for you and her, and 
 there is nothing to prevent your being mar- 
 ried right off when you get to Filby." 
 
 " Josiah !" 
 
 Jesse uttered the exclamation so indig- 
 nantly, that Mr. Freeman felt obliged to de- 
 fend his own conduct. 
 
 " You think I had no business to do it;
 
 IQO WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 but I was not going to see the poor girl 
 made a talk of everywhere. I know you 
 mean no harm, lad, but I feel it my duty 
 to take care of her; and if you had settled 
 not to go, there would have been no harm 
 done by the banns being put up ; but, as 
 it is, you ought to be married the minute 
 you set foot in Filby, and I shan't let you 
 go unless you promise, and she too, that 
 she will go to church with Betty and Sam. 
 If you won't promise, I will write to Mr. 
 Halton this night. Now you go and tell her 
 this, or I must." 
 
 " Must ! Who must ?" asked a fresh young 
 voice ; and May came in, causing them almost 
 as much bewilderment as if she had risen 
 through the floor. 
 
 " You are surprised to see me," she said 
 to Jesse. "You did not think I could get 
 here without your help ; but I had some- 
 thing so strange to tell you, that when Sam 
 came to speak to me about Betty, I made 
 him get out the boat and row me down 
 here." 
 
 "And what has happened?" asked Josiah,
 
 THE FORGERY. IQI 
 
 for Jesse seemed unable to make up his 
 mind to speak. 
 
 " Why, this : that it will be no trouble at 
 all for me to get away on Sunday, for Green 
 is going- away for a week. You know Green 
 and James are to be married. Why do you 
 start so, Jesse? You knew that before; did not 
 you ? But now as uncle is sending them away, 
 they want to be married quickly, and she 
 wants to go and see his father and mother 
 first ; so she has asked me to let her and 
 him go for a week, and she will send her 
 niece Fanny to take care of me and old 
 deaf Matthew ; you know they are the two 
 stupidest people in Sandmouth, and will be- 
 lieve any excuse I please. So I can come 
 away easily. And now, what have you ar- 
 ranged about my going ?" 
 
 "You can go in Mr. Lockwood's ship. 
 Miss May ; she sails on Monday morning," 
 said Mr. Freeman ; and, having said this, 
 he left the room, giving Jesse a look, which 
 told him he must bring the question to a 
 decision now. 
 
 "Well, Jesse, what more? Why, Jesse,
 
 192 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 what is the matter ?" asked May, studying 
 his face earnestly. " What's wrong ? " 
 
 Jesse bit his lip, took a turn up and down 
 the room, and at last stopped in front of 
 her. She saw he had grown very pale. 
 
 " My dear ; he says it is not right for 
 you to go — unless — unless you were to be 
 married to me now ; and that, you know 
 ought not to be." 
 
 " No, not yet," said May, with a bright 
 smile. 
 
 Jesse made no rejoinder, but grew paler 
 still. After a moment, he said, — 
 
 " Josh says it won't be right for you to 
 go unless we are married." 
 
 " Why not ? I don't see any harm," said 
 May, wonderingly. " I am going with Betty 
 and Sam, not with you," she added, blush- 
 ing. 
 
 " He says you shall not go, — unless you 
 are my wife " — replied Jesse. " He says it 
 would be wrong." 
 
 " But do you think so, Jesse ? " asked May, 
 looking up earnestly in his face. " Do 
 you?"
 
 THE FORGERY. 1 93 
 
 No ; I don't," he answered almost fiercely. 
 "But Josh says if you won't be married to 
 me he will stop your going, and write to 
 Mr. Halton." 
 
 " He is a wretch ! " cried May ; and if 
 Mr. Freeman were listening at the door, he 
 enjoyed the listener's privilege of hearing no 
 good of himself for the next two minutes. Jesse 
 stood irresolute, feeling he ought not to urge 
 her to accept the marriage, and yet longing 
 passionately that she should. May exhausted 
 herself in indignation against Josiah. 
 
 " He is a cheat and a coward ! He should 
 have said I should not go before — he should. 
 Now what can we do ? We can't be mar- 
 ried all at once to please him." 
 
 "He says he has had the banns put up 
 in Filby church, and everything made ready, 
 and you could be married to me as soon 
 as we got there," said Jesse, slowly and un- 
 willingly. " I did not know it, May ; it's as 
 strange to me as to you," he added, ear- 
 nestly. 
 
 May was silent, utterly confounded by this 
 intelligence. Jesse anxiously tried to assure 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 her he was innocent of this insolence of put- 
 ting up the banns. 
 
 " Oh ! I know you did not do it," she said, 
 impatiently; and again she was silent, thinking 
 of the cruel separation that was threatening 
 them. 
 
 Jesse turned half-away, afraid to say a 
 word, lest he should be unfairly influencing 
 her, and yet hoping she would give him the 
 power of keeping her at Sandmouth. If she 
 went away from him now, he felt Josiah 
 was right, and he should never see her 
 again. 
 
 At last. May said, with the straightforward 
 directness of a child, — 
 
 "Jesse, if I were married to you. Uncle 
 could not send me to school, — could he ? 
 He could not take me from you ?" 
 
 "No, that he could not ; no one could take 
 you from me," he answered, every pulse thrill- 
 ing with the hope of being able to protect 
 her. " No ; I might bring you back here, and 
 no one could touch you, — no one." 
 
 " Well, then, we will have it so," said May, 
 simply. " You shall take me to the church,
 
 THE FORGERY. 195 
 
 and I'll marry you, Jesse ; and then," she 
 added, putting her hand on his arm and try- 
 ing to make him turn round to look at her, 
 " you can take care of me always ; can't 
 you ?" 
 
 The passionate embrace with which he an- 
 swered the question almost frightened her. 
 
 " I thought you loved me, but I did not 
 think you would give in to that," he said, 
 kissing her again and again. " Bless you, 
 dear ; you will find I'll love you as well as 
 any gentleman of them all would." 
 
 " But how are you to take me away on 
 Monday ?" asked May, who was more intent 
 on the chance of getting away from her 
 uncle, than on any dreams of future happi- 
 ness. 
 
 " Why, in the lugger, when Betty goes ; she 
 sails on Monday, and gets there on Tuesday 
 morning. I'll come for you in the boat and 
 take you aboard." 
 
 Mr. Freeman now judged it best to join 
 the conversation, and so came in. May re- 
 ceived him with marked coldness, but told him 
 her decision.
 
 196 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " And then shall we come back here 
 again ?" she asked, " since my uncle cannot 
 take me to school when I am married to 
 Jesse." 
 
 " No, you had better not," said Mr. Free- 
 man ; " it would make a great talk in the 
 town. You had better go to the cottage, 
 Jesse, and tell Sam you will pay for any 
 lodging he likes to take in Yarmouth for the 
 present." 
 
 "Yes, that is it," said Jesse. "Do you 
 think, dear, you could live in the cottage ?" 
 
 " Why, I was going to live there, anyhow," 
 said May. " Of course I can ; but I shan't 
 need to be hidden there now, as they can't 
 take me from you. Now come and row me 
 home, please," and she added in a whisper 
 as he followed her towards the door, " I don't 
 choose to talk to Josiah about it. He has 
 behaved very ill, and has obliged me to 
 marry you all in this hurry by his interfer- 
 ence." 
 
 " But you don't mind .<*" asked her lover, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " No, I don't. I think I'nr glad. I shall
 
 THE FORGERY. 197 
 
 then be free from Uncle ; but still, Josiah has 
 no right to do as he has, and I won't stay to 
 talk before him." < 
 
 Mr. Freeman had no wish that she should. 
 He was only too glad they were going, that 
 he might be alone to think over the desper- 
 ate state of his affairs. It was still as neces- 
 sary as ever to find the hundred and sixty 
 pounds before Monday, or his furniture would 
 be seized and his credit hopelessly gone ; and 
 with that public announcement of his insolv- 
 ency, all his other creditors would be upon 
 him and make him bankrupt at once, while 
 May's flight with Jesse would also be stopped, 
 for even she would not be mad enough to 
 marry him while his brother's house was in pos- 
 session of bailiffs. If his chief creditor would 
 but have waited one more week, Josiah thought 
 it would be possible to borrow money when 
 he could whisper the secret that Jesse was 
 married to the niece of Mr. Halton ; but 
 to breathe a hint of this now would endanger 
 the success of the plot, and moreover no one 
 would credit such an apparently monstrous 
 supposition. He sat racking his brain to
 
 198 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 find a means of rescue, where rescue was none, 
 when May came back into the store-room, 
 saying, — 
 
 " Would it be a good plan to tell Fanny 
 Green who will be with me on Monday, that 
 I am going to London to my uncle ? or else 
 I shall be missed, and everybody will be 
 talking about it." 
 
 " Yes, if you like," said Mr. Freeman, with 
 difficulty turning his attention to the question. 
 " She is very stupid, and would believe any- 
 thing you told her." 
 
 " Oh, if she did not, you know Jesse could 
 write a letter for my uncle, and nobody could 
 tell it was not his ; could you not, Jesse ?" 
 she said, with pardonable pride in her 
 scholar. " There, look at this letter, Josiah, you 
 cannot say who wrote it, my uncle or Jesse; 
 could you ?" 
 
 " It is really wonderful," said Mr. Freeman ; 
 and a very dangerous thought occurred to him 
 as to whether this singular resemblance of 
 handwriting might not be used to postpone 
 his ruin for a few weeks, and give him time 
 to recover. Could a letter be written for Mr.
 
 THE FORGERY. 199 
 
 Hal ton, promising to assist him, and this be 
 shown as a sop to his creditors ? or could 
 he borrow money on the strength of it ? or — 
 May and Jesse went downstairs, and Josiah 
 was left alone to his temptation. 
 
 He did not struggle long ; he was grown 
 desperate, and callous to any consideration 
 but the fear of punishment, or he could not 
 have taken advantage as he had of May's 
 ignorance and Jesse's weakness. Now he 
 only weighed, and pondered on, the chance 
 of punishment, and saw he should be sheltered 
 behind his brother. 
 
 " It's all safe," he said, as he finished his 
 calculations. "Jesse will be safe. Mr. Hal- 
 ton can't let the thing be made public when 
 he is her husband ; and he cannot prove any- 
 thing against me unless he first convicts him, 
 and that he won't do. He will only be glad 
 to hush it all up for his own name's sake. 
 There's no danger for Jesse. Mr. Halton will 
 be angry enough at first, but he will see he 
 knows nothing about it, and is as stupid as 
 a baby ; so he can't quarrel with him long, 
 and he cannot keep him out of her money
 
 200 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 in the end, even if it does not become his 
 own as soon as they are married, I wonder 
 how that will be. I am almost afraid it is 
 in Mr. Halton's hands till she is of age, or 
 some of it, at least. But I think Jesse will 
 have some of it directly ; anyhow Mr. Halton 
 cannot let them starve, and he must forgive 
 the forgery for her sake and his own. That 
 is certain, and Jesse will be as safe as any 
 one." 
 
 And Mr. Freeman went out to walk and 
 arrange his ideas, and buy various kinds of 
 paper at the post-office, and was found 
 busily writing by his brother when he came 
 in a few hours later. Josiah looked nar- 
 rowly at him, and saw the flush of joy on 
 his face, as he whistled softly his favourite 
 air of Black-Eyed Susan while walking up 
 and down the room, unconscious of all but 
 his own dreams of the future. 
 
 "Is your business trouble getting over. 
 Josh?" he asked, as disturbed in his reverie 
 by a noise Mr. Freeman made purposely 
 by pushing back a chair, he noticed at 
 length his brother's occupation.
 
 THE FORGERY. 20I 
 
 " Oh, I'll get through, thanks to your 
 loan ; but I am very busy," said Josiah. " I 
 have been about your business when I ought 
 to have been writing. I shall not get done 
 this side midnight." 
 
 "Can I help you?" asked Jesse. "I can 
 copy anything for you, though I can't add 
 up figures." 
 
 " Thank you very much, you could copy 
 that ;" and Mr. Freeman handed over the 
 table a long list of the fixtures and furni- 
 ture in the Hermitage, and then a letter 
 from Mr. Halton relating to the same. Jesse 
 wrote quickly, but Josiah saw that the imi- 
 tation of Mr. Halton's handwriting was per- 
 fect, and the signature of his name seemed 
 a lithographic copy of the original. He 
 noticed also several mistakes in the letter, 
 proving that Jesse's thoughts were far away. 
 This was as he had hoped, and he did not 
 point out the errors, but quietly placed three 
 or four envelopes on the table, telling him 
 to direct them to different people whose 
 addresses he read out. "And now write 
 here," he said, placing another paper before
 
 202 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 his brother, and holding it carefully down 
 on the table. " Write ' Accepted,' and under- 
 neath, 'John Halton.'" 
 
 " What, across the writing ?" asked Jesse. 
 
 " Yes, across it ; it's the copy of a re- 
 ceipt," said Mr. Freeman, promptly. " Now 
 write 'John Halton,' — write it fair, Jesse." 
 
 This was the critical moment. If Jesse 
 had had his wits about him, he might have 
 asked why he was to write so singular a 
 copy ; or he might in his ignorance of the 
 forms of business mar the appearance of the 
 bill ; but Josiah had provided himself with 
 two or three forms of the same bill for one 
 hundred and sixty pounds, payable at six 
 months' date, from the previous Wednesday, 
 and, if one was spoilt, would have made him 
 write a second. No untoward accident hap- 
 pened, however ; Jesse wrote the words 
 dictated to him without a further thought, 
 and Mr. Freeman, removing the precious 
 document, placed an invoice before him, and 
 requested a copy of that. It was an hour 
 before he released him ; and meantime he 
 brought some supper, and kept his glass
 
 THE FORGERY. 203 
 
 supplied with strong spirit and water, and 
 had the satisfaction of seeing his head was 
 a Httle confused. 
 
 "No, no more. Josh ; your grog is too 
 good, and I can't stand it. I feel I have 
 had too much already. Good-night." 
 
 " I've done it and got it," said Mr. Free- 
 man as he watched him out of the room. 
 "Who would have thought he would be such 
 a baby ? but it's for his good as much as 
 mine. Now I must get him safely married 
 to her on Tuesday, and he is safe, and he 
 will live to thank me yet." 
 
 Mr. Freeman deliberated a long time as 
 to the wisdom of trusting the runaways en- 
 tirely to themselves, or of going with them 
 and seeing them fast married. He was un- 
 willing to mix himself up in the matter, 
 lest the honest people of Sandmouth should 
 hear it and judge him according to their 
 simple sense of right and wrong ; but he felt 
 that since he had made his brother guilty 
 of forgery in the security that the marriage 
 with Miss Cressingham would shelter him, 
 he had best go with him and see the
 
 204 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 marriage regularly celebrated. After long 
 consideration he decided not to accompany 
 him in the lugger as if accessory to carrying 
 off Miss Cressingham, but to go by land to 
 Yarmouth and meet them there as if by 
 accident, and take them to the church ; which 
 had a more virtuous look when the story 
 came to be . known, and might, when told in 
 Sandmouth and Enderby, exonerate him from 
 any suspicion of having helped his brother 
 to wile away the young girl, although Mr. 
 Halton might discover his agency in the 
 deed. 
 
 In pursuance of this plan he let Jesse 
 make all the arrangements, and himself went 
 to Enderby and paid his creditor with the 
 forged bill, and came home to take advan- 
 tage of the respite in trying to sell the Her- 
 mitage. He looked so cheerful on Saturday 
 night that his wife hoped his troubles were 
 all at an end. 
 
 But if Sunday seemed a long day to the 
 lovers, it was one of torturing anxiety to 
 Josiah, who began to realize as he saw his 
 brother's young handsome face beaming with
 
 THE FORGERY. 205 
 
 love and pleasure, that he had made him 
 an unconvicted felon, and that if any acci- 
 dent prevented his marriag-e with Mr. Hal- 
 ton's niece, he must become an exile from 
 his native country for life. It was a miser- 
 able thought, he tried to drive it away, but 
 it would return and stay by him till the 
 sound of Jesse's whistling was a perfect 
 agony to him. He was glad when the night 
 came, and still more when Monday morning 
 dawned. 
 
 May congratulated herself during Sunday, 
 as she found her new servants even more 
 stupid and less likely to give her trouble than 
 she had expected. Fanny was suffering 
 so much from toothache that she could not 
 attend to her work, and old Matthews was 
 too deaf to 'hear anything but the shortest 
 words shouted in his ear. May told Fanny 
 that she was going away, and that she 
 would go on Monday afternoon to Enderby 
 to meet her uncle there, and he would take 
 her to London. It cost her an effort to tell 
 this falsehood, but having made up her mind 
 to do it, she did it completely and effectu-
 
 206 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 ally. The announcement caused Fanny no 
 surprise. She was accustomed to go to 
 Enderby herself to visit her friends, and she 
 did not recognise any impropriety in the 
 young lady going there alone to meet her 
 uncle. May packed up her wardrobe and 
 favourite books, but told Fanny she would 
 take all she needed for a few days in a 
 small portmanteau, and the large trunks 
 would have to be sent after her to London. 
 Fanny was quite indifferent to the matter, 
 but she remembered what her mistress told 
 her, afterwards, as May meant that she should. 
 
 On Sunday evening Jesse came, bringing 
 a parcel which he said was needlework done 
 by Betty for May, and a light bonnet-box 
 which he took into the parlour. May sent 
 Fanny to look for something at the top of 
 the house, and then turned to welcome him. 
 
 "It is all settled ; the lugger sails to-morrow 
 afternoon at five, and I will be here with Betty 
 at half-past three, and we will row out to sea. 
 You are to wear this dress, it is like Betty's, 
 and she will say you are her sister going to see 
 her married. Sam is on the lugger, and when
 
 THE FORGERY. 207 
 
 I've rowed you alongside, he will remember to 
 ask me to come on board to go and see his 
 wedding. Mind you don't laugh. Here is 
 your dress, dear, in this parcel." 
 
 " Don't you dislike ' carrying out parcels for 
 the shop'?" said May, archly. 
 
 " I never minded carrying anything for you; 
 and . this is yours, and there s are stout boots, 
 too, with the dress." 
 
 " Cannot I even wear my own boots ?" asked 
 May, untying the string rather unwillingly. 
 
 "Josiah says you can't; he has sent you 
 some like what Betty wears, and a shawl, and 
 a veil to hide your face. The bonnet is in 
 this box. You must put on the dress and 
 come down to the landing-place at half-past 
 three, and then I can step and fetch down your 
 bundle or basket, and you must put on the 
 bonnet and shawl when you are in the boat. 
 Now I must go, dear, Fanny is coming. Good- 
 bye." 
 
 He clasped her hand tightly ; but Fanny's 
 footsteps were heard approaching, and he left 
 the house quickly, while May took her parcel 
 upstairs to examine its contents. They were
 
 2oS WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 a woollen dress of a dark hue, a bright shawl, 
 warm woollen gloves, and stout boots. The 
 bonnet was trimmed even prettily, so that it 
 might seem to belong to a young girl conscious 
 of her own fresh cheeks, but a thick brown veil 
 was provided to hide the face under it. May 
 wondered if all these precautions were neces- 
 sary, for coarse stockings and a pocket hand- 
 kerchief of very common material had been 
 placed with the boots and gloves. She tried 
 on the dress, and was not at all pleased with 
 the effect of the resplendent shawl upon it. 
 She did not waste much time, however, before 
 the glass, but went to bed and fell fast asleep 
 to dream of her intended flight. Her first 
 wakinsf thought was about the weather, and 
 wrapping a cloak round her she went to the 
 windpw to look at the sky. The sun shone 
 brightly, and the sea was calm ; but she was 
 growing weatherwise, and felt almost certain 
 the wind would blow harder towards evening. 
 No matter, provided it did not prevent the 
 lugger from sailing. She would not have held 
 back for fear of a rough journey, she had no 
 fear of anything as long as she could be with
 
 THE FORGERY. 2O9 
 
 Jesse. Even when sometimes the recollection 
 of that terrible night when they had so nearly 
 perished came back upon her, it was blended 
 with the remembrance of how he had held her 
 clasped to his heart, and had pressed kisses on 
 her forehead and hair. She would have faced 
 that storm again sooner than not follow him. 
 But her fear was that the lugger might not 
 sail, and a day be lost. It seemed to her, after 
 she had packed up her small box and had had 
 her solitary breakfast, that the day would never 
 wear on ; the only sign that the hours were 
 passing were that the sky grew duller and 
 Fanny looked more and more miserable with 
 her continued toothache, and at last May 
 adopted the happy idea of sending her to bed. 
 
 " Never mind dinner for me," she said, " I 
 can find something in the pantry, and I can 
 dine with my uncle at Enderby." 
 
 Fanny believed her, and went to her bed to 
 try and forget her pain in sleep. 
 
 Then May watched the clock, growing more 
 anxious every minute as she heard nothing 
 from Jesse, and saw the clouds drifting inlaild. 
 She went upstairs and put on the dress Betty 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 2IO WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 had made and the boots she so detested, and 
 put a cloak over the gown to hide it from any 
 chance passer-by who might be on the beach. 
 Then she locked her discarded dress up in one 
 of the trunks going to London, took the keys, 
 and went down to the old landincr-stacfe with 
 her bundle in hand. The boat was there, but 
 there was no one in it ; and as she stood there 
 the distant church clock struck three. May put 
 the bundle into the boat and went back for her 
 little bonnet-box, and, returning with it, sat 
 down on the beach and tried to be calm. 
 
 In about fifteen minutes a short quick step 
 sounded on the shingle between her and the 
 road, and Betty came up. 
 
 " I was afraid I should be late," she said, 
 stowing her wipedimcnta safely into the boat, 
 " and I think it will come on to blow. Is not 
 Jesse come ?" 
 
 Betty was dressed exactly like May, in a 
 brown woollen dress and gaudy shawl, but she 
 had put white strings on her bonnet. 
 
 " Because they know I'm to be married," she 
 said. " You are to be my sister, and I am to 
 call you Mary ; but Sam says we are not to
 
 THE FORGERY. 2 I I 
 
 Speak to any of the men any more than we can 
 help." 
 
 May looked anxiously round for Jesse, he 
 was coming towards them to her great relief. 
 He had been delayed and was hurrying for- 
 ward, and was much pleased to find she had 
 already brought her small luggage down to the 
 landing-stage. 
 
 " But we have time enough," he admitted ; 
 " it's only half-past three, and the boat is all 
 ready." 
 
 He helped them both in, unloosed the chain, 
 and took the oars, 
 
 " Where's the lugger ? " asked May ; " near 
 the town ? " 
 
 " Off the High light ; but I want to go out so 
 as we shan't be seen, and drop down to her as 
 it's getting dusk. I'll row quietly. We have 
 plenty of time." 
 
 They crept quietly over the water, no one 
 speaking. May had no wish to talk to Betty, 
 and Jesse was silent except to ask May to put 
 on the warm shawl, and change her hat for the 
 bonnet and veil. She did so and disposed of 
 the hat and cloak in the box ; and they were all
 
 212 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 silent again, rowing slowly, and keeping the 
 lugger between them and the town. It was 
 quite dusk before Jesse turned the boat's head 
 towards the land and rowed to the vessel. A 
 shout told them they were seen, and a rope 
 was thrown them as they came alongside. 
 
 " Here Sam, here she is safe and sound, 
 with her boxes, too, which is a blessing," said 
 Jesse, laughing, as he helped Betty up within 
 reach of his shipmate's arm. 
 
 " Glad to have the boxes, anyhow," said 
 Sam. " Where's her sister ? " 
 
 " What ! two of 'em, Sam ? You can't marry 
 but one, you know," said some one, as May 
 was drawn up. 
 
 " Could not make her come without her 
 sister," said Sam, with mock gravity, as he 
 helped May on to the deck. Worse than 
 leaving the boxes behind, that." 
 
 "Well; I'll drink your health to-morrow, and 
 wish you joy," said Jesse, handing up the 
 bundles from the boat. 
 
 It had been arranged that when Jesse said 
 this, Sam was to have shouted a jolly invitation 
 to him to come with him and see the fun ; but
 
 THE FORGERY. 213 
 
 before he could speak to give him this excuse 
 for coming on board, another voice called 
 out, — 
 
 " Freeman, will you come with us ? We 
 are two short, and it's like it will blow hard 
 to-night." 
 
 "Ay, I don't mind, if you can take care of 
 my boat," said Jesse, and climbed on deck. 
 
 He was immediately occupied with ropes 
 and sails, and Sam took the two girls down to 
 a tidy cabin which belonged to the master 
 when he was on board. At present Mr. Lock- 
 wood was absent, and had left the boat in the 
 care of a sailor whom he had formerly em- 
 ployed, and now taken on again. 
 
 The wind rose, as every one had expected, 
 before they had been an hour on board, and 
 the lugger had a hard time of it. To the girls, 
 shut up in the cabin, and unable to keep on 
 their feet, as she rolled over and swung round, 
 it seemed as if there must be serious clanger. 
 Betty was thoroughly terrified, and May had 
 no success in comforting her, until Sam ap- 
 peared at the door of their retreat. 
 
 " Well, how are you getting on, lass ? " he
 
 214 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 asked, cheerily. " Rough weather this, ain't it, 
 for your first trip ? It's lucky the wind is with 
 us, or we should not see Filby this time to- 
 morrow, or longer." 
 
 " Is there any danger ? " asked May, trying 
 to induce Betty to rise from the floor, where 
 she lay overcome with fear and giddiness. 
 
 " Danger ? That's a good one. No ; there's 
 no danger, except as you will both be dead . of 
 cold if you don't take something," and Sam 
 went away, and returned with a tin mug of 
 brandy and water, and insisted on their both 
 doing honour to it before he would leave 
 them. 
 
 The gale increased, and May could no longer 
 keep her feet ; she crouched down by her com- 
 panion, and wondered where Jesse was. She 
 was growing frightened, and what courage she 
 might have had was exhausted in comforting 
 Betty. Then came a sudden shock of water 
 against the side of the ship, and a creaking 
 and groaning overhead, and voices heard 
 shouting above it all. May sprang up and 
 opened the door, and stood, holding by the 
 doorpost, in fearful suspense. Presendy she
 
 THE FORGERY. 21 5 
 
 heard Jesse's voice saying, " All right," and a 
 minute after he was by her. 
 
 " Don't touch me," he said, putting her gently 
 away, "I'm all wet. Have you had some- 
 thing warm to drink ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but never mind that. Tell me, are 
 we in danger, Jesse ?" 
 
 " Danger ? No, you poor little land bird. 
 Why, the wind is with us, and we shall be in 
 Yarmouth Roads by daylight. You try and go 
 to sleep." 
 
 " But that noise overheard, Jesse ? Tell me 
 the truth, — don't keep anything from me." 
 
 "It is as safe as can be, dear. There's no 
 danger ; come on deck and see for yourself. 
 No, no, you must not," he said, stopping as he 
 was about to help her up the ladder. " You 
 will be wet through with the rain, and there is 
 no fire to dry you ; but you lie down and sleep, 
 it's the best thing you can do. The noise is 
 nothing : we wore ship, that was all. I'll go 
 and get you something warm for supper." 
 
 He Avent, and brouo^ht somethino^ which she 
 promised to eat if she could, and then he un- 
 rolled a large blanket on the floor.
 
 2l6 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " Now you lie down and sleep, May. Don't 
 be foolish ; you know what real danger is, and 
 you were not half as frightened then as now," 
 he said, remonstrating. " And, Betty, don't you 
 be fancying mischief, do you hear ? " And with 
 that he went off. 
 
 The scolding had done them both good, and 
 Betty lay down on an old sofa, and May, not 
 less hardy, but more fastidious, made a bed of 
 the clean blanket on the floor, and, resolving 
 not to be frightened, at last fell fast asleep, and 
 forgot storm and danger. She waked up at 
 last, rather cold and stiff, and found it was day- 
 light, and the vessel was lying still. Betty told 
 her they had anchored in Yarmouth Roads, and 
 Sam was ready to take them ashore, as it was 
 no longer raining. May put on her bonnet, 
 drew the thick brown veil over her face, and 
 followed Betty on deck. Sam was there, send- 
 ing their bundles over the side into a shore- 
 boat. Jesse was at some distance talking to 
 Will Cousins, the sailor who was in charge of 
 the vessel for the trip. He sauntered up to 
 them, however, saying, — " Shall I help you, 
 Sam, to put your ladies ashore ? "
 
 THE FORGERY. 21/ 
 
 " Ay, thank ye, for them and their traps is 
 all together too much for one," said Sam, at 
 which air the men began to laugh, and May 
 felt her cheeks glow under her veil. Sam led 
 Betty forward. " You may take that one," he 
 said, laughing, to Jesse. " I don't mind if you 
 take charge of her altogether, but I think I'll 
 keep this one myself." 
 
 "Well, 'tain't a bad idea, Sam," cried his 
 friends ; and Will Cousins added, — 
 
 "Jesse, take his advice ; it's time you were 
 thinking of getting a sweetheart. You had 
 better think of it." 
 
 " Perhaps I will," replied Jesse, who was 
 helping May over the side. " Who knows 
 what a good example mayn't do for me ? " 
 
 " Come along then with us to church," said 
 Sam, reminded by a nudge from Betty that he 
 was forgetting his part in neglecting to invite 
 Jesse. " You will hear enough to make you 
 get married yourself, perhaps — who knows ? " 
 
 "Well, I don't mind," said Jesse, entering 
 into the fun. " And, Will, you had better come 
 to Filby this afternoon, and see if I have pro- 
 fited by the sermon."
 
 2l8 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " Ay, come, Will. There will be a chair at 
 the table for you, and you ought to look after 
 Jesse," said Sam, as the boat pulled off amidst 
 a general roar of laughter. 
 
 May had heard this dialogue with great dis- 
 gust and vexation. She was used to rough 
 tones and voices among the boatmen, but was 
 new to jesting like this ; and she felt humiliated 
 by it, and shrank away from Betty, who was 
 giggling at it immensely. She was surprised 
 Jesse seemed not to mind it, but concluded he 
 was determined to act his part perfectly, and 
 she admired him for his uninterrupted good 
 temper. That he, too, enjoyed the joke, it was 
 beyond her power to imagine. 
 
 After rowing some half-mile, they landed at 
 Yarmouth, and May had to follow Betty, while 
 Sam and Jesse went to the neighbouring public- 
 house to make an elegant toilet, and Betty led 
 the way to her cousin's home. The cousin was 
 a quiet respectable woman, who made them 
 welcome to a fire and breakfast, thouMi she 
 was in no good temper with Betty. 
 
 " After all I have done for you, and getting 
 you taught the dressmaking, for you to throw
 
 THE FORGERY. 219 
 
 yourself away on a loafing sailor, like he ! " she 
 exclaimed indignantly. " It is no use saying 
 anything to you, as your grandfather does not 
 mind, so I'll go to church with you ; but you 
 might have done better." 
 
 The good woman had no suspicion that her 
 other visitor was a second bride-elect, to whom 
 her remarks applied even more forcibly. By 
 the time May was warm and refreshed, Jesse 
 came in, having changed his damp clothes for a 
 holiday suit, and looking even handsomer than 
 usual, although a little tired with the night's 
 work. Sam came, also dressed in a very jaunty 
 style, and soon a hack carriage was brought to 
 the door, and they all set off, Sam being on the 
 seat with the driver. It was not till they got 
 to the church that Betty told her cousin that 
 her supposed bridesmaid was herself to be 
 married ; but the good woman had taken a 
 fancy to Jesse, and looked more approvingly 
 on this match than on her cousin's. Betty's 
 aunt and grandfather, and one friend of Sam's, 
 were at the church, but Jesse had insisted that 
 the rest of Sam's well-wishers should be with- 
 held from attending.
 
 2 20 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 A second hack carriage had followed theirs 
 from Yarmouth. It held Mr. Freeman, who 
 had arrived there the previous night, and had 
 come down to watch for their landing, and now 
 followed them to church. He kept out of their 
 sight, however, and was content to witness the 
 ceremony from the gallery. He went into the 
 vestry as they left it, and satisfied himself 
 it was all right, and then joined them outside 
 the church door, as if he had just arrived. 
 They were preparing to go to the village for 
 the wedding feast, which was arranged for them 
 by Betty's friends ; but Josiah, after a glance at 
 May's face, touched his brother on the shoulder, 
 and said, — • 
 
 " Don't you go with them to Filby, or you 
 will disgust her with them, and with you too. 
 She looks frightened enough now. Go home 
 at once ; you had better." 
 
 Jesse glanced down at May, and began to 
 fear his brother was right : she looked both 
 frightened and unhappy. 
 
 " Shall we go home to the cottage, dear, or 
 with them ?" he asked, in a whisper. 
 
 " Oh, home, if you will," she answered, in a 
 tone of ereat relief.
 
 THE FORGERY. 221 
 
 Josiah beckoned to the driver of his own 
 hack carriage to drive up, put them both in, 
 and followed himself. 
 
 " I'll drop you at the turn near the cottage," 
 he said. " I am going on to Yarmouth. I am 
 going on to Norwich and Peterborough on 
 business. It was for business I came here." 
 
 " I thought it was to make sure we had 
 been married," said Jesse, drily. 
 
 " Oh no, not at all," said Mr. Freeman, 
 alarmed by this unusual sharpness in his gene- 
 rally unsuspicious brother. " I shan't be home 
 for a week. Write to me at the Lion at Peter- 
 borough." 
 
 Neither Jesse nor May made any answer. 
 Mr. Freeman wished he was out of their com- 
 pany ; they both seemed to regard him as an 
 enemy, and May's face said plainly she would 
 recognize no relationship with him, although as 
 she had shaken hands cordially with Betty's 
 grandfather at the church door^ she could do 
 no less for Mr. Freeman. She condescended 
 to hope he would have a pleasant journey to 
 Peterborough, and said it with the air of a dis- 
 guised princess.
 
 222 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " She don't forget she is Mr. Cressingham's 
 daughter, for all she has married below her," 
 thought Josiah. " And she'll lead Jesse a dog's 
 life till he learns to be master. I wonder how 
 she will carry it off with her uncle. I shall not 
 like having to tell her about the forged bill, but 
 I must let her know before Jesse hears of it, or 
 there is no saying what may happen." 
 
 Mr. Freeman's cogitations were interrupted 
 by their coming to the entrance of the lane, and 
 Jesse stopped the carriage, and helped May out. 
 Josiah drove on. Jesse drew her arm in his, and 
 they turned up the lane. Neither spoke till, 
 after a minute's walk, they came to the cottage. 
 
 "Is that it ? " she asked, under her breath. 
 " Oh, what a dear little place it is ! It is like 
 the woodcutter's cottage in a fairy tale. Oh, 
 go to the woman and get the key." 
 
 But Mrs. Tebb appeared at the door, smiling 
 in sympathy. " I'll come back if you want 
 me," she said, as she passed them in the 
 garden, and went towards her own house, and 
 May went in. 
 
 A bright fire was blazing in the grate, and 
 all looked the picture of cleanliness.
 
 THE FORGERY. 223 
 
 " Oh, it is SO cheerful," she said, as she 
 looked round. " We can make it quite pretty," 
 she added, as she laid her bonnet on a chair. 
 " Shut the door, Jesse, or the fire will smoke. 
 Quick ! " 
 
 But after he had closed the door, he turned 
 and caught her in his arms, and covered her 
 with kisses. 
 
 " I can't help it, dear ; you must let me," he 
 said, as she shyly turned her face away, and 
 hid it on his shoulder. " I did not take a kiss 
 in church, because I thought you minded it. 
 Give me another now. You are not crying, 
 dear ? " 
 
 They were not tears to signify. Her eyes 
 were beaming with happiness, as she looked 
 up, and returned his kiss. 
 
 " Oh yes, I was very glad ! Such a little, 
 little kiss in church ! " she said, smoothing back 
 her ruffled hair, when at length he released 
 her. " How roughly Sam did kiss Betty. I 
 think she was quite vexed." 
 
 Poor Sam had only given his bride a hearty 
 kiss on both cheeks to seal their plighted vows. 
 He certainly had no thought he was rough.
 
 2 24 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 Jesse saw it was a fortunate thing he had 
 brought May home, instead of going to the 
 feast at Filby. 
 
 " Did you choose the furniture ? What a 
 queer chair," said May, looking round ; " and 
 what an old-fashioned clock ! You must make 
 a porch over the door, and train roses over 
 it." 
 
 "Anything you like," he answered; "but," 
 he added as he took her hand, and drew her 
 again near to him, " I can't think of that now. 
 I can only think how strange it is you should 
 be here, and I should be able to call you 
 my wife." 
 
 " Oh, I knew I should be your wife some 
 day," said May, very contentedly ; " but I am 
 glad Josiah made us be married now. It 
 will be much pleasanter living here with you 
 than with Betty and Sam. Now I am going 
 to get you something to eat. You don't know 
 how I can cook. Green taught me. Poor 
 Green ! I wonder what she is doing now. 
 But this kettle is too big. I can't lift it. Why 
 did you get it ? It would make tea for a whole 
 ship's company."
 
 THE FORGERY. 225 
 
 " But there is no boiler, you know," said 
 Jesse, lifting it on to the fire. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! so there is not, nor an oven. 
 How ever shall we cook anything ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Tebb will do it all/' said Jesse. " I've 
 told her she can be your servant. I'll go and 
 call her." 
 
 " No, no, don't ; not now. I - like doing 
 everything to-day. I am going to cook you 
 those beefsteaks which I see on that dish, and 
 here is bread for three days, and tea and sugar. 
 Let me do without Mrs. Tebb. I like it, and 
 there is nothing to do else. We can't go and 
 look at the garden. Hark at the rain and the 
 wind." 
 
 " Yes ; the gale is coming on again. It will 
 blow harder to-night," Jesse answered. " I 
 hope Will won't stop late with them at Filby ; 
 he ought to be on board the lugger to-night." 
 
 "Oh, Jesse, I am so glad that you need never 
 go to sea any more," said May, as she came and 
 sat by him, and laid her cheek on his shoulder. 
 
 The wind increased as it grew dark. About 
 six o'clock. Will Cousins stopped at the door 
 in a rather merry condition, having come from 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 2 26 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 the wedding party. He explained that he 
 was going back to look after the vessel en- 
 trusted to his care. 
 
 " But I thought I'd just stop and pay my 
 compliments to you, my lad, and your missis. 
 I did not think you would set such store by 
 my advice when I gave it you this morning," 
 he said, laughing. "Good-even to you, mis- 
 tress ; he is a good lad," he added, as he saw 
 May busily arranging her tea-cups. " You 
 have made a good choice, I can tell you. I 
 have sailed with him, and I know. I wish you 
 joy, and him too. Good-night," and Will dis- 
 appeared into the darkness. 
 
 "He is a good fellow," said Jesse, as he 
 nevertheless bolted the door, lest any other 
 visitor should drop in. " And he knows his 
 trade too. The lugger is safe with him." 
 
 " He was rather tipsy, was not he ? " asked 
 May. " Oh, Jesse, really you have chosen this 
 ring very stupidly ; it is too tight ; I can't wear 
 it. It quite hurts my finger. Look." 
 
 Poor girl! It was only a presage of what 
 her marriage itself would prove to her in after- 
 days, however happy she might be now.
 
 CHAPTER jVIII. 
 
 DROWNED OR LOST? 
 
 Ten days later, Dr. Theodore Halton was 
 sitting in the library of his brother's house 
 in Creswick Gardens, where he had domiciled 
 himself while his wife and daughters were at 
 Mentone. He was reading a report of the last 
 meeting of the Royal Geographical Society, 
 and his son Edward, contrary to the usual 
 habits of young men of his age, was perusing 
 an encyclopaedia for his evening's relaxation — 
 when Mr. John Halton came in, with an open 
 letter in his hand, and a countenance expressive 
 of dismay, and said, — 
 
 " I have received the most extraordinary 
 news from Sandmouth. My niece, Margaret 
 Cressingham, has set off alone from the town, 
 telling the servants she was coming to see 
 me, and she has not been heard of again." 
 
 " Set off to come here ? alone by herself .'* 
 the child has met with some accident ! " ex-
 
 2 28 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 claimed Dr. Halton, opening his eyes in be- 
 wilderment. 
 
 Dr. Theodore Halton was not an ordinary 
 looking man ; indeed he was striking to behold, 
 even slightly ludicrous. He was tall, and 
 largely made, but he stooped till he was as 
 small as his brother ; his sight was bad, and 
 he wore very round spectacles, and he had a 
 habit of pushing his spectacles up to the top 
 of his prematurely bald forehead, and forgetting 
 they were there, and putting on a supplemen- 
 tary pair, so that he looked more scientific than 
 dignified ; and irreverent people, seeing him 
 for the first time, were apt to laugh at him as 
 Lewis Graham had done. He opened his round 
 eyes inside his round spectacles as his brother 
 spoke, and listened in dismay to the letter that 
 John read him. It was from Green, who had 
 returned from her week's holiday, and found 
 Fanny and old deaf Matthew contentedly 
 believing that their young lady had gone to 
 London. Green, recognising the impropriety 
 of so young a girl travelling such a distance 
 by herself, grew very uneasy when she found 
 no letter had come from May ; and her anxiety
 
 DROWNED OR LOST ? 229, 
 
 was not decreased, when she saw that she had 
 left all her wardrobe behind her ; and in great 
 distress of mind she now wrote to Mr. Halton 
 to learn news of her darling. 
 
 " I am afraid the child has met with some 
 accident on the journey," said Dr. Halton. " If 
 she were still in the neighbourhood of Enderby 
 she would have communicated with the ser- 
 vants. Been gone since the fifth, does the 
 woman say ? " 
 
 " I suppose I ought to go to Sandmouth 
 immediately," said John Halton. " There must 
 be no delay. It is a long journey." 
 
 " May I go ? " asked young Edward Halton, 
 who had taken the letter, and was re-reading it 
 carefully. " I can go to-night, and set inquiries 
 on foot before you come down." 
 
 " That is an excellent idea, Edward," said 
 his uncle ; and Edward took down Bradshaw, 
 and consulted him. " I shall get there by to- 
 morrow morning at six," he said. s"I shall catch 
 the mail train to-night, and I shall go to the 
 man of' whom you rent the house. He is 
 probably the only person with brains about the 
 place, and then I can tell the police at Enderby 
 to look out."
 
 230 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 John Halton agreed that this was the right 
 course to take, and Edward set off on his 
 journey : the third morning after, brought a 
 letter from him to Dr. Halton. 
 
 " Blue Lion Inn, Sandmouth, 
 
 ''Dec. iZth. 
 " My dear Father, — I am afraid there will 
 be very sad news to tell in a day or two. It 
 seems almost certain the poor girl has been 
 drowned while out in a small boat on the fifth. 
 It is quite certain she did not come into Sand- 
 mouth to meet the coach for Enderby, as the 
 servants say she intended to do ; and it is 
 almost as certain, that if she set out to come to 
 the village, she would have come by the water, 
 in a little cockleshell boat which was kept at 
 the house, as she was lame, and could not 
 walk more than a few yards, and the fly from 
 the inn here was not sent for. She often came 
 to the village in this boat, and there is too 
 much cause for thinking she went in it that 
 afternoon, and was on the water when a heavy 
 gale rose ; and every one here is of opinion that 
 the boat was swamped, as it cannot be found
 
 DROWNED OR LOST T 23 1 
 
 anywhere ; and also the boatman who always 
 took Margaret out, has not been seen since 
 that day. I fear this conjecture is the right 
 one. She was nearly drowned six weeks ago 
 when out with the same man. The wind rose 
 suddenly and they had a narrow escape then. 
 I wil 
 
 The morrow brought no letter from Edward, 
 but the next day did. 
 
 " Blue Lion Inn, Sandmouth, 
 
 ''Dec. 20th. 
 " I have passed all the day writing to the 
 towns along the coast to inquire if the missing 
 boat or the bodies have been seen. Every one 
 here, has an opposite conjecture as to where 
 they are likely to be carried by the currents. 
 But meantime, I am almost wishing to be sure 
 that she is drowned, for one man here has 
 whispered a dreadful surmise to me, which I 
 hardly dare to think of It is that she has 
 actually been mad enough to go away in the 
 company of this sailor. It sounds incredible, 
 but the man who told me his suspicions has
 
 232 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 good reasons for them. He is the gardener at 
 the Hermitage, and he says, she was always 
 with this man, who is a relation of Freeman's, 
 young and good-looking, and was always 
 rowing her up and down ; and the gardener 
 now says he has not a doubt they have gone off 
 together ; though he maintains that he never 
 suspected anything until he heard she was 
 gone. He and the woman Green both went 
 off, or were sent out of the way, and only a girl 
 left in the house ; and she was in bed all day, 
 and did not see Margaret go out on the fifth, 
 but supposed she had gone to Enderby. The 
 general idea is, that she started in the boat 
 for the village, intending to go by the coach 
 to Enderby, there to meet Uncle John, and was 
 drowned in the gale ; but the gardener has 
 pointed out to me, that if she hoped to catch 
 that coach, she must have left the Hermitage at 
 an early hour in the afternoon, and the gale, 
 he finds on careful inquiry, did not rise until 
 six in the evening, and it is impossible, there- 
 fore, to suppose she met with any accident. 
 Josiah Freeman is away, but I went to his wife, 
 and told her what the gardener said. She
 
 DROWNED OR LOST .'' 233 
 
 seemed very much shocked, but I could see 
 she thinks it too probable. I have sworn 
 James to keep his surmises to himself, and I 
 am now writing to you to ask if you will not 
 prefer to send some private detective down 
 to find her, rather than let the regular police 
 have anything to do with the matter. We may 
 all have even to feel thankful for this report 
 of her death." 
 
 After reading this letter, John Halton roused 
 himself from his ordinary idleness, and went to 
 secure the services of Mr. Crosskey, a secret 
 detective of the highest ability, and sent him 
 down to Sandmouth to communicate with 
 Edward. But though Mr. Crosskey went to 
 work with energy, it was not the work of a day 
 to trace the fugitives. Every one in Sandmouth 
 believed them drowned, and Edward was 
 anxious not in any way to shake their belief 
 in that idea ; so it was a delicate matter to 
 make inquiries suggestive of any other solution 
 to the mystery ; and if she were not drowned, 
 there was no real ground for believing she 
 was in company with Jesse. It only rested
 
 234 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 on James the gardener's suspicions, and Green 
 scouted the idea indignantly. " Miss May was 
 a lady," she said, "and she was not likely to 
 think of a common sailor like Jesse." No- 
 body else in Sandmouth even hinted at James' 
 suggestion. At last Mr. Crosskey began to 
 adopt the hypothesis that the gale had blown 
 the boat out to sea, and began to inquire if 
 any shipping had been off the coast, — and 
 finally he went to Yarmouth in search of 
 Lockwood's lugger. Edward left him at work, 
 and returned home to report progress. ' 
 
 " She may be drowned, or she may have 
 been blown out to sea and picked up by 
 some vessel ; but I see Crosskey thinks there 
 is no doubt she has gone with this man. 
 Josiah Freeman's wife seems to think it, though 
 she does not actually know it. Crosskey thinks 
 she is sincere, and her evidence shows Margaret 
 was completely infatuated with the scoundrel ; 
 she was in his company almost every day." 
 
 " Yes; that is it. It is our fault, for leaving 
 her there among only servants," said Dr. 
 Haltoh. " We ought to have had her here with 
 ourselves."
 
 DROWNED OR LOST ? 235 
 
 It may be noted, that it was owing to Dr. 
 Halton's representations, that John Halton had 
 proposed to fetch May up to London for a 
 few weeks before the school term commenced. 
 
 " They say she was so pretty," said Edward. 
 " Such bright, beautiful hair; the women cannot 
 help crying, when they talk of her lying cold 
 and white under the water." 
 
 " She ought to have been with us," said 
 Dr. Halton, wondering, as he noticed the sad, 
 almost tender, tone in which his son spoke, 
 if this mischief might not have been averted 
 if only Edward had been sent occasionally to 
 look after his cousin. That they should love, 
 and some day marry each other, had been a 
 plan Dr. Halton had lately begun to enter- 
 tain ; and if his wife and daughters had been 
 in England, he would have asked John to 
 let him take charge of Margaret. He had 
 once hinted the possibility of such a mar- 
 riage before his son, and he was afraid now 
 from the tone of sadness with which the 
 young man spoke, that the hint had been 
 understood and thought of 
 
 " Which ever way it turns out, whether the
 
 236 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 poor child is dead or alive, we shall never for- 
 give ourselves," he said, despondingly. 
 
 " I don't feel it is our fault at all, Theodore," 
 said John Halton. " I am sure I at least have 
 done all I could for her." 
 
 Edward looked at his uncle with some sur- 
 prise, studied his face a moment, and then 
 sat down to write a letter. 
 
 At the very hour while her cousin conjured 
 up his painful vision of her lying cold and 
 white under the pitiless waves. May was idling 
 in the warm licrht of the cottaq;e fire, all smiles 
 and laughter, for she sat by Jesse; her arm 
 was round his neck, and her bright hair hung 
 like a veil of gold over his shoulder. Her 
 eyes shone with happiness and love as she 
 nestled close to him, though, conscious of her 
 privilege as a wife, she scolded him unmerci- 
 fully. 
 
 " Yes, you always do ; you always do every- 
 thing wrong. Josiah was quite right; you are too 
 stupid to be trusted with anything but a ship. 
 Did not I send you to Yarmouth to change my 
 ring because it pinched my finger red and blue, 
 and did not you bring me back this one that
 
 DROWNED OR LOST? 237 
 
 drops off every time I move my hand ? I 
 know I shall lose it. You will find it on the 
 floor some day. I think it is a sign you want 
 to get rid of me, isn't it ? " she asked, laying 
 her cheek against his as she spoke. 
 
 "I'm sorry it is too big. I'll change it again ; 
 but I haven't done anything else wrong, have 
 I ?" asked Jesse, drawing her on to his knee. 
 
 " Wrong ? anything else ? You always do 
 everything wrong. I sent you to Yarmouth to 
 buy me a black shawl, and you brought back 
 a bright blue. Was that wrong or was it 
 right, eh ? " 
 
 " I did not like to buy you a black one, it 
 would be unlucky, and your hair looks so 
 pretty when it falls down over the blue." 
 
 May's smile showed the compliment was 
 grateful ; but she replied, — 
 
 " No ; it was because you were in a hurry 
 to get to the Hand and Sceptre with Sam, 
 and drink grog with Will Cousins, — a great deal 
 more than was good for you, too." 
 
 " Indeed, darling, I took very little. Did you 
 think I had had too much } " 
 
 " I don't know. You were very noisy, and
 
 238 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 Sam was quite wild. Betty was quite un- 
 happy when she took him away. I suppose 
 it was the cold air after the grog made you 
 worse." 
 
 " It must have been, dear. I only had three 
 glasses, indeed." 
 
 " Oh, don't look unhappy, Jesse ; there was 
 not any harm," said May, soothingly. " You 
 were all right. You were only more good- 
 tempered than usual," she added saucily. 
 " Only you know it won't do for Jesse Freeman, 
 Esquire, of Rawlstone Hall, to walk home from 
 Yarmouth singing Rule Britannia when he has 
 had three glasses of wine. And that reminds 
 me of another thing you've done wrong. Did 
 not I ask you to go to Yarmouth this morning, 
 and get a chaise to drive me over to Rawlstone, 
 and have not you forgotten it ? " 
 
 " And so have you," said Jesse, indemnifying 
 himself for his scolding by taking a kiss. " But 
 I did not forget it ; but there is too much 
 slush in the lanes to go to-day." 
 
 " I want to go when we can. I want to see 
 the place, and settle where we shall live," 
 said May.
 
 DROWNED OR LOST f 239 
 
 And Jesse asked rather anxiously, " Are you 
 tired of living here, then ? " 
 
 " Tired of living where you are ? You know 
 I can't be," she answered caressingly ; " but 
 I want to see where we can live in Rawlstone. 
 You know we can't have the Hall till I am 
 twenty-one. It is let to somebody; and we must 
 have a smaller house, I think you might give 
 Mr. White, that bailiff there who is so bad, 
 notice to leave, and then we could live in his 
 house. I believe it is a nice farm-house kind 
 of place, and we might do very well there." 
 
 " Are you not going to write to your uncle, 
 and tell him where you are, and that you are 
 my wife ? " asked Jesse. 
 
 " Oh no ; not just yet. He will be so very 
 angry, and will write such dreadful letters. I 
 should not mind if he would only scold me. 
 When you don't care for a person, you don't 
 mind what he says to you ; but I don't want 
 to hear him speak ill of you." 
 
 " But you must expect that, darling ; he will 
 tell you, you have disgraced yourself by marry- 
 ing a poor sailor." 
 
 " That's just why I don't want to write.
 
 240 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 Jesse. It don't matter really what he says, 
 as he can't take me away from you ; but I don't 
 want to hear him speak ill of you." 
 
 " But I think, somehow, you ought to write ; 
 for Sam has heard from Sandmouth that they 
 are all in great trouble about you, and Green 
 thinks you are drowned, and me too ; and your 
 uncle or his son has come there to ask about 
 you." 
 
 " Oh dear, Jesse; do they think so? We must 
 not let them think that, though I don't think 
 uncle would care much. But poor Green ! — ■ 
 why does not Josiah tell them I'm safe ? " 
 
 " Perhaps he thinks you had better tell it 
 first," said Jesse, " and perhaps he is right ; but 
 I think your uncle should know, though I 
 would rather " 
 
 "Rather what, Jesse? Tell me. I will 
 know." 
 
 " I'd rather we had stayed here a little 
 longer, without any of them coming to look 
 after you, — a little longer," he said rather sadly. 
 
 She put up her hand, and smoothed away the 
 frown from his forehead. " Uncle John won't 
 come, Jesse ; he will find it too much trouble.
 
 DROWNED OR LOST T 24 1 
 
 He will write tremendously long letters. We 
 will burn them. And he will say he will 
 never forgive us. I don't care ; he can't keep 
 Rawlstone Hall from me when I am of age, 
 and till then we must go to Josiah, or we can 
 live here, and I'll do needlework, and you must 
 work for the farmers near Rawlstone. You 
 will learn all about farming in that way. And 
 he will soon feel ashamed of having his niece 
 living in a little cottage, and send us word 
 we may choose a respectable house for our- 
 selves." 
 
 " It is not that I was thinking of," said 
 Jesse, still refusing to laugh with her. " It 
 is that I'm afraid that when you read his 
 letters, and see what a shocking thing he 
 thinks it for you to have married such a one 
 as me, you will feel sorry a little yourself, 
 perhaps." 
 
 " Oh, Jesse, how can you ! " exclaimed 
 May, stopping his mouth with her hand. 
 "You must never say that again. What do 
 I care for him, or anybody else but you ? 
 You don't think I was wrong, do you ? " she 
 added archly ; and disengaging herself from 
 
 VOL. L R
 
 242 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 his arm, she danced away before he could 
 answer the question. " Now I'll get ink and 
 pens, and write to poor Green, and to uncle. 
 Uncle first." 
 
 May found this letter no easy task. She 
 wrote several, and tore them up in turn. At 
 last she penned one in a great hurry, and 
 folded it up determinately. 
 
 " Would not you like to see it ? But you 
 shall not," she said, laughing and holding it 
 up tantali^^ingly before Jesse, who was watch- 
 ing her anxiously. "You shall not know 
 what I have said to him about you." 
 
 " I don't want to," Jesse answered, making 
 an ostentatious parade of filling his pipe. 
 
 " Yes, but you shall see it though," May 
 said ; " but you shall not touch it ; give me 
 both your hands." 
 
 " Are you afraid I shall ^natch it and 
 tear it ? " said Jesse. " I give you my 
 word I won't. I hope you have been civil 
 to him." 
 
 " Very well, you can read it then. I 
 have tried to be very civil to him, I 
 know." •
 
 DROWNED OR LOST ? 243 
 
 If she had, she had a singular notion of 
 civihty. The letter ran : — 
 
 Dec. 2^th. 
 
 " Dear Uncle, — I have only just heard 
 that you think I am drowned ; so I write, 
 that you may not be unhappy, though I am 
 afraid you will be displeased with me, when 
 you hear I am married to Jesse Free- 
 man, until you know how good he is, 
 and how I never can love him as much as 
 he deserves. He has been my kindest 
 friend these three years ; and is so good 
 and so noble. I am afraid you will be 
 vexed because he is poor, and because I 
 did not tell you ; but I would have told 
 you if I could, and you know I am rich, 
 so his being poor will not signify. You 
 will like him when you come to know him, 
 I am sure. I am very sorry you should 
 have been frightened about my being drowned. 
 If you will forgive me, I shall be very glad, 
 I remain, your very affectionate niece, 
 
 Margaret Freeman. 
 
 " Now don't say you don't like the letter,
 
 244- WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 for I won't alter it," she said, as she watched 
 his face, and saw he was pleased. " And 
 here is my letter to Green. I'll read it." 
 
 " Dear Green, — I am not drowned. I 
 am married to Jesse, and am very happy. 
 Tell the people I am safe ; but do not tell 
 them we are married till I write again. 
 Good-bye." 
 
 " That will make her feel satisfied, and 
 she can be married too, and be happy. 
 Now, who will post these letters ? Oh, 
 Betty shall, to-morrow." 
 
 It was unfortunate that May chose Betty 
 for a post messenger. Betty went market- 
 ing for herself and for May, and came 
 every day to see her, and offer assistance 
 in her housekeeping, although the next 
 door neighbour, Mrs. Tebb, was at hand to 
 do all that was required ; but Betty liked 
 to come, and Sam liked a chat with Jesse, 
 and often persuaded him to come to the 
 tavern at the cross roads, and to this May 
 had made no manner of objection. It was 
 only to another visit to the Hand and 
 Sceptre, that she objected, and that only
 
 DROWNED OR LOST T 245 
 
 because Jesse stayed there a long time away 
 from her, and not from any fear of his 
 drinking. His head was strong, and an 
 extra glass only made him very merry, and 
 caused her no more real uneasiness than 
 his occasional oaths, which, however, she 
 always made a point of blaming him for. 
 But she was quite indifferent to his going 
 with Sam to have a glass and a pipe at 
 the tavern, and meanwhile consulted with 
 Betty about her needlework, for which Josiah 
 had provided materials so abundantly. Betty 
 — who looked upon the cottage as her own 
 future home, as soon as May should have 
 removed to one somewhat more suitable 
 — was particularly interested in some curtains 
 on this winter morning, and going to market 
 with her mind full of tapes, nails, and 
 strings, forgot the letters she had promised 
 to post ; so that they did not arrive at their 
 destination until some days later, and before 
 that time Mr. Crosskeys had written to Mr. 
 Hal ton, asking him to meet him at Yarmouth, 
 and bring his nephew with him. Mr. 
 Crosskeys having a certain respect for that
 
 246 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 young man's promptitude and readiness for 
 action when time was valuable. 
 
 " He does not say he has found her, nor 
 whether he thinks she is alone, or with 
 that scoundrel," observed Mr. Halton. " He 
 evidently writes in a hurry ; we must go 
 at once. I wish the weather was milder." 
 
 "What are you to do with her when you 
 find her ?" asked Dr. Theodore. 
 
 " That depends upon where we find her," 
 answered John Halton. "If she is openly 
 living with this rascal as his wife, I suppose 
 she must be married to him as quick as 
 may be ; but we will tie every farthing of 
 her money upon her, and settle Rawlstone 
 Hall on her first." 
 
 "Yes, of course; if she is to marry him, 
 it is our duty to secure every penny of her 
 money on herself," said Dr. Halton; "but 
 I am very doubtful if we ought to let her 
 marry him." 
 
 "Theodore! are you dreaming, or mad?" 
 cried his brother. " Not marry him now ! 
 But she is already ruined — lost ; it must 
 be — she must marry him."
 
 DROWNED OR LOST ? 247 
 
 Dr. Halton took off his spectacles. 
 
 " I know the world would say so," he 
 replied gravely ; " but I think we can man- 
 age to keep it secret from the world, and 
 I think this girl will have worse cause to 
 rue her folly for life, if she is married to 
 this scoundrel, than if we can hide her dis- 
 grace, and hush up all scandal. We can 
 hide her. I go to France next week, and I 
 will take her abroad, and leave her in some 
 convent, where she can remain for two or 
 three years, and the scandal never be known. 
 There is a general belief, Edward says, that 
 she is drowned; and this is a fortunate cir- 
 cumstance. We may have to keep her 
 abroad for some years ; but at all events, 
 John, it would be madness to let this girl 
 of seventeen bind herself to this scoundrel 
 for the rest of her life." 
 
 " But suppose the story should ever come 
 out," said John Halton ; " think of our 
 position." 
 
 " Yes ; but I am thinking rather of hers," 
 replied Theodore ; " and I believe, sad as 
 her whole life will be from this unhappy
 
 248 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 madness, that she will be better off, living un- 
 known in some quiet convent, or some English 
 country village, than married to the designing 
 villain who has ruined her to get possession 
 of her money. It is her interests that must 
 be our chief care, John ; we are her guard- 
 ians, and have neglected our trust. If we had 
 looked after her this could never have hap- 
 pened." 
 
 " But think of your own daughters," said 
 John Halton ; "how this scandal — if it should 
 ever come out — would injure their prospects 
 in life. Think of Gertrude and Florence." 
 
 "I do think of them," said Theodore, much 
 troubled. " Of course it would. My poor 
 girls, it would be very sad for them ; but 
 that is not the question. I do not consider 
 you have the right to sacrifice your sister's 
 child to my daughters. And I know I would 
 rather see my own girls lying dead at this 
 instant, than married to such a rascal as that. 
 Why, John, you know as well as I do, how 
 the law allows a man to ill-use a woman if 
 she is his wife. You must have felt, as I 
 have, that it is only your own better feelings
 
 DROWNED OR LOST ? 249 
 
 that protect your own wife, it is not the law ; 
 and consider, then, if this girl will not be 
 less miserable, hiding her shame and folly in 
 some safe place, than if she is compelled to 
 take this scoundrel for her master. What- 
 ever is best for her we ought to do, regard- 
 less of the consequences to ourselves." 
 
 " I think we ought to consider ourselves 
 before her," replied John. " She has for- 
 feited all claim to any consideration. I 
 should look at the matter solely as it affects 
 us in the world." 
 
 " I hope that if we do right in this matter, 
 we may be able to conceal our trouble from 
 the world," replied his brother ; " and for her 
 sake — " 
 
 " I think you are mad," answered John, 
 contemptuously. " Even for her own sake 
 she ought to marry him, and most certainly 
 for ours ; but we can talk better of this 
 when I have found her. And Theodore, I 
 am not going to tell my wife about this, and 
 I advise you not to write to Alice." 
 
 " Alice is ill, and is not fit to bear any 
 anxiety," said Dr. Halton ; " but I wonder
 
 250 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 you should keep it from Anne. She might 
 be able to offer us some good suggestion," 
 But John Halton shook his head, and replied 
 his wife should know nothing whatever of it. 
 John Halton hastened down to Yarmouth, 
 accompanied by his nephew. The snow had 
 whitened all the low hills, and the sea, 
 whenever they caught a glimpse of it, was 
 rough and stormy. They travelled in silence 
 so absolute, that their one fellow-traveller — 
 a physician going to visit a dying patient — 
 could not help occasionally raising his eyes 
 from his newspaper to look at his two moody 
 companions. He could learn very little from 
 his scrutiny. The countenance of the elder 
 man was puckered in intense annoyance and 
 perplexity ; that of the younger wore a 
 frown of determination amounting to stern- 
 ness ; and yet Edward was sad as well as 
 angry, while John Halton felt only a keen 
 sense of the disgrace and trouble his ward 
 had brought upon him. He wished she had 
 been drowned, as the people in Sandmouth 
 said she was. At the station he saw Cross- 
 keys waiting for him. Tlie detective came to
 
 DROWNED OR LOST? 25 I 
 
 the window, and invited him to follow him 
 into a private room, of which he had already 
 secured possession by some freemasonr)^ be- 
 longing to his order. Crosskeys soon came 
 out, and told Edward his uncle wished to 
 speak to him. 
 
 " The very worst has come to pass, 
 Edward," said Mr. Halton. " She has fol- 
 lowed the man home to his cottage, and is 
 still there calling herself his wife. I don't 
 know what to do." 
 
 " Why, go to her at once, and tell her 
 she must be married to him," said Edward. 
 "Let us go. Will he give us much trouble ?" 
 
 " Oh no, it is very fortunate, he has 
 gone away to-day. Crosskeys does not know 
 where, but he is gone." 
 
 " Well, then, shall I order a fly ?" asked 
 Edward ; but Mr. Halton preferred to wait 
 and dine in the refreshment room, and ar- 
 range his ideas as he did so. 
 
 " You had better sit down and eat com- 
 fortably, Edward," he said, surveying his 
 impatient nephew with annoyance. "This 
 beef is not bad."
 
 252 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " Thank you, I have had some soup, and 
 I don't want anything more ; shall I call 
 for a fly ? " 
 
 " Not yet ; there is no hurry ; sit down. 
 I can't think what to do first." 
 
 " Eat your dinner, I think," said Edward, 
 throwing himself into a chair by the win- 
 dow, and looking out at the carriages in 
 the station yard. " We can talk as we 
 drive there."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 CAPTURED. 
 
 May was all alone that evening. Jesse had 
 very unwillingly left her that morning, on 
 a business that could not be neglected. He 
 had been summoned, with Sam, as witnesses 
 to prove his friend, Will Cousins, innocent 
 of a charge of assault and battery, laid 
 against him in London. Jesse knew that 
 Will could not have been the real offender, 
 for on the very day he was alleged to have 
 committed the offence in London, he had 
 met him in Yarmouth, at the Hand and 
 Sceptre, — the only day Jesse had been to 
 the Hand and Sceptre since his marriage. 
 Sam had been there also, and was likewise 
 summoned to London. Jesse was very re- 
 luctant to go, but there was no help for it. 
 " You must tell Betty to come and stay 
 here to-night ; you must not be alone in 
 the house, and you must call Mrs. Tebb to 
 come and sit with you till Betty comes."
 
 2 54 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " I'll walk with you a little way," May 
 said ; but he would not allow her to go 
 beyond Mrs. Tebb's cottage, for fear her 
 ankle should suffer. 
 
 " No farther. I must run the rest of the 
 way. You will see me Friday or Saturday ; 
 and remember, you are to write to the Blue 
 Posts, at Wapping. Good-bye, my darling;" 
 and, after at least a dozen kisses, he ran 
 off. 
 
 May went back resolved not to feel lonely, 
 which resolution lasted till the afternoon; and 
 then, when she had done all the needlework 
 she could find to do, she went to Mrs. Tebb, 
 junior, and offered to assist her in making a 
 frock for her eldest child, about which piece 
 of needlework she had seen her bungling 
 for two days. As the frock gradually assumed 
 fair proportions under her quick fingers, the 
 satisfaction attending the consciousness of 
 skill began to steal over her and restore 
 her philosophy, and she could reflect it 
 might be as well that Jesse should be 
 away for a day or two, if her uncle's 
 letter were on its way to her. It could not
 
 CAPTURED. 255 
 
 fail to contain much abuse of him, and she 
 expected to feel justly angry when she read 
 it, and it would be better she should be 
 alone while she replied to it. She had sense 
 enough to see that she must try and con- 
 ciliate her guardian, for that his displeasure 
 would not be a matter of indifference to her 
 as it was to Jesse. He looked for no re- 
 mittances through Mr. Halton, but was quite 
 prepared to go to work on a collier, and 
 support his wife on his wages in the cottage; 
 but she wanted to keep him near her, and 
 to live at Rawlstone, in the bailiff's house, 
 where she could every day see the house 
 and ground which would one day be their 
 own, and he could learn all about the land 
 he would some day farm and shoot over. 
 It seemed to her that it was, on the whole, 
 fortunate that the Hall was let to some one, 
 and that they must have the bailiff's house. 
 She felt that Jesse would be happier in the 
 little farmhouse than in the large rooms of 
 the Hall. He would, in time, grow used to 
 the idea of luxury, and would have become 
 a gentleman by the time they had to live at
 
 256 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 the Hall itself. She hoped her uncle would 
 let them have the farmhouse, and determined 
 to bear all his anger very meekly, so as to 
 win him over ; for though she believed he 
 would be compelled by law to give her a 
 maintenance out of her own future property, 
 she had set her heart on turning the bailiff 
 out of his house, and seeing Jesse in it. 
 She pictured to herself a large brick-floored 
 kitchen, and a pretty keeping-room, with roses 
 looking in at the latticed window, and Jesse 
 drawing up plans for the improvement of the 
 land, when he should be in possession of it. 
 
 May's dream was very pleasant ; she laid 
 down her work, for the evening was closing 
 in, and she would not get a candle, but sat in 
 the flickering firelight waiting till Betty came. 
 Suddenly she heard a noise of wheels in the 
 lane, stopping at the gate, and then the door 
 opened and three men came in. She sprang 
 up in sickening terror, for her instant thought 
 was that they had come to tell her of some 
 accident to Jesse. Her knees trembled under 
 her, her heart almost stopped, and she 
 could not speak.
 
 CAPTURED. 257 
 
 But as the fire flashed up, and she saw- 
 her uncle, her terror ceased. He could not 
 have brought any bad tidings of Jesse, he 
 had only, she supposed, chosen to answer her 
 letter in person. 
 
 " Oh, uncle — is it you ? I am so glad," 
 she cried, in a tone of such joy that Mr. 
 Halton stopped, completely confounded and 
 bewildered, and stood silent, open-mouthed 
 in amazement. May's momentary terror had 
 left her still trembling, but she was able to 
 think, and while her uncle stared at her In 
 astonishment, she remembered that she had 
 to expect a very severe outburst of anger ; 
 and for a moment she felt she was all alone, 
 and Jesse far away. But she knew the 
 blame had to be borne, and she braced her- 
 self up to meet it, remembering that it was 
 only blame after all, and that when she 
 had listened to it patiently, her guardian 
 must enter into some arrangement about her 
 future home. So, with a strong effort, she 
 resolved not to make him any reply, save a 
 duteous one, under his reproofs ; and so 
 taking his hand, she led him to the chair 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 by the fire, and threw another piece of wood 
 on to make a blaze, glancing meantime at 
 the strangers who had entered with him, and 
 whose presence she supposed now kept him 
 silent. One of them came forward towards 
 the fire, while the other withdrew out of the 
 cottage and shut the door ; and as the latch 
 dropped, Mr. Halton found his tongue. 
 
 " You are a wicked, shameless, ungrateful 
 girl," he exclaimed. " After all I have done 
 for you so long, — to disgrace us all in this 
 infamous manner ; what possessed you ? Where 
 have you learned such abominable wicked- 
 ness ? Who put it into your head ? Do 
 not you know you have utterly disgraced 
 your family and your friends ? We shall not 
 dare to mention your name, or let it be 
 known we have such a miserable person as 
 you are, related to us. You have sunk 
 yourself in such irretrievable disgrace, that 
 all your life long you will be unable to 
 wipe it off, and it would be far better for you 
 if you were lying drowned in the sea." 
 
 May looked up astonished at her uncle's 
 vehemence. But being quite unconscious of
 
 CAPTURED. 259 
 
 the construction he had put upon her flight 
 from Sandmouth, the real meaning of his words 
 did not occur to her, — she only thought him 
 very angry, and she had expected him to 
 be so ; so she waited very quietly, acting 
 submission, — waiting till he had finished his 
 reproof, to express her hope that he would 
 forgive her, and ask for the bailiffs cottage. 
 Her cheeks, therefore, did not burn with any 
 sense of shame ; she did not comprehend 
 that she was insulted by his words. She was 
 looking at the stranger he had brought with 
 him, — young like Jesse, but small and slight, 
 and fair-haired, like herself He was atten- 
 tively watching her with quick stern eyes, 
 and she felt more afraid of him than of all 
 her guardian could say. 
 
 Mr. Halton, meantime, continued, — 
 " The disgrace, the infamy, you have 
 brought on yourself can never be wiped 
 away. You will never be able to lift up your 
 head again in the world. Your aunt never 
 can receive you in her house, — our reputation 
 would be tarnished by the suspicion of 
 relationship with you. We all wish you were
 
 26o WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 dead, sooner than here. After all the kind- 
 ness I have shown you, what could make 
 you grow up so utterly lost to all sense 
 of—?" 
 
 Edward looked at his cousin ; her colour 
 certainly rose, but she raised her head and 
 looked steadily into her guardian's face, as 
 if she were proud of herself rather than 
 ashamed, and his quicker wit told him she 
 was unconscious of any disgrace. Had .they 
 and Cros'skeys conjectured wrongly ? 
 
 He broke in across his uncle's exordium, — 
 
 " Do you mean to marry this man ? " he 
 asked in a voice hoarse and stern, with his 
 effort to seem calm. 
 
 " Do I mean to marry him ! " said May 
 bewildered. " Have you not had my letter ? " 
 and then the blood rushed to her face as she 
 comprehended the false position in which 
 she appeared to them. " I am already mar- 
 ried ; how could you think I was not ? " she 
 said indignantly. " Of course I am." 
 
 "You are married already!" cried her 
 uncle and cousin, both at once. 
 
 " Yes ; of course I am," May answered, her
 
 CAPTURED. 
 
 261 
 
 voice quivering with anger, and her cheeks 
 now burning with shame. " I was married 
 to him before I came here, and my hus- 
 band is a good and — " 
 
 ''Where is he?" asked Edward fiercely. 
 Mr. Hakon was silent, feeling that a great 
 and terrible responsibility had been taken 
 off him, and that his reputation was safe. 
 Edward's thoughts went on faster. 
 
 " Why, of course he has married her. We 
 might have guessed he would. He would 
 not be such a fool as not to do it ! " he ex- 
 claimed furiously, as he remembered that his 
 cousin's property was now hopelessly in the 
 power of her husband. " Where is he ? 
 Where is your husband ? " he said, turning 
 sharply upon her. 
 
 May felt too much insulted to play the 
 part of humble penitent any longer. Edward's 
 tone was in itself an insult, and she replied 
 very coolly, " I don't know." 
 
 " You don't know ; but you must," he 
 cried angrily, his indignation increasing 
 against the girl who could be such a fool 
 as to throw herself and her money so help-
 
 262 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 lessly into the hands of an unscrupulous 
 fortune hunter. " Tell me, directly, where 
 he is hiding himself." 
 
 A fear struck May, that perhaps there 
 was some law to punish Jesse for marrying 
 her without her guardian's consent, and she 
 repeated rather sullenly, " I don't know." 
 
 Edward caught her arm, and shook it 
 angrily, as he asked, *' When is he coming 
 back?" 
 
 " Perhaps she really is ignorant," said Mr. 
 Halton. " Perhaps he has left her. You 
 say you were married before you came here. 
 Are you sure ? Where were you married ?" 
 
 "At Filby Church. Three weeks ago the 
 day before yesterday," said May. 
 
 " Was it by banns or license ? " 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " You don't know ! " said Edward im- 
 patiently. "Were there any witnesses ? 
 Was there any one there ? " 
 
 " Yes, oh yes. Sam and his wife, who 
 were married at the same time ; he is a 
 sailor." 
 
 " A sailor and his wife ! are those the
 
 CAPTURED. 263 
 
 witnesses ? " said Edward, scornfully. " Was 
 the clergyman there ? " 
 
 " I wonder very much if it is a real mar- 
 riage?" said Mr. Halton. "I am afraid it is 
 not." 
 
 "It would not be at all a bad thing if it 
 were not," said Edward. " You could then 
 do something about the money before they 
 were married again. " 
 
 May stood looking in wondering anger, 
 from one to the other. They were doubting 
 if her marrias^e were a les^al one, — that much 
 she understood, and a fear came over her 
 that it mio-ht not be all rio-ht as it had 
 been arranged in such a hurry. She said, 
 very nervously and hurriedly, — 
 
 *' But if it is not a real marriage, it can 
 be done over again, can it not ? " 
 
 Mr. Halton looked at his nephew, for this 
 apparent admission of doubt on her side, 
 settled the question to his mind. Edward 
 beckoned him to come out of the house; 
 but when they were outside the door. May 
 stood close by it and listened. She heard 
 Edward say, —
 
 264 WAFTING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " At all events, sir, you had better take 
 her to London. He will follow her quickly- 
 enough, for he will have no wish to lose 
 her. He wants her money ; and whether it 
 is a legal marriage or not, I am certain he 
 meant it to be so." 
 
 "Do you think so ? But then if she is 
 really married, why should I take her away ?" 
 asked Mr. Hal ton. 
 
 " But perhaps she is not yet, and you 
 must take charge of her till she is," said 
 Edward. " And there is the money to take 
 care of." 
 
 " Well, but if it is a legal marriage, I can 
 do nothing about the money. It is too late," 
 said the guardian, helplessly ; but his nephew 
 replied, — 
 
 " Yes, you can. You have great powers 
 under her father's will, and you can bring 
 the rascal to order. At all events, you 
 must take her home now, or away from 
 this place." 
 
 " But I will not go," said May, opening 
 the door, " This is my husband's own cot- 
 tage, and I will stay here till he comes."
 
 CAPTURED. 265 
 
 " My uncle will be very foolish if he lets 
 you," cried Edward angrily. " All Yarmouth 
 will be coming to stare at you. You must 
 go with us ; your husband can come after 
 you if he likes." 
 
 " I shall not go," said May, retreating 
 into the cottage, but Edward followed her. 
 
 " It is no use for you to say you won't go," 
 he said in a low voice; "you must, if we 
 choose; and you had better not make a fuss 
 about it. I could carry you into the carriage 
 myself, and there are two men out there. 
 You had better come quietly." 
 
 He meant the advice kindly, but she 
 shrank back, terrified with a sense of her 
 helplessness before mere physical strength ; 
 while he in his extreme excitement, was 
 quite unconscious of the brutality of his words, 
 and turned and said to his uncle, " You 
 could catch the six o'clock train, if you 
 drive fast, sir. I will stay here and make 
 inquiries. Will you go and put on your 
 bonnet in a moment?" he added, taking her 
 arm, and leading her to the foot of the 
 stairs. She sprang away from him, and 
 hurried up to her own room.
 
 266 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " But where can I take her to, Edward ?" 
 said Mr. Halton in much perplexity. " I 
 know of no place in town, and I know your 
 aunt would not let her come to our house." 
 
 Edward Halton thought, that if he were 
 married, his wife would have to receive what 
 guests he pleased in his house, and without 
 complaint ; but he replied quickly, " There is 
 the empty house at Dunstable, sir. Flint is 
 in charge of it, and will keep her safe." 
 
 " An excellent idea," said Mr. Halton ; " an 
 excellent woman, Flint, I mean. Go and tell 
 the girl to be quick, or we shall lose the 
 train." 
 
 May, once in her own room, had bolted 
 the door, and sunk frightened and crying on 
 the foot of the bed; but the sound of 
 Edward's voice soon roused her. A des- 
 perate idea of barricading herself in till Jesse 
 returned, seized her; but, after examining the 
 weak lock of the door, she was forced to 
 abandon the hope. He would not be home, 
 either, till the day after the morrow, and 
 moreover, she had still sense enough to re- 
 member she ouf^ht rather to soothe her
 
 CAPTURED. 267 
 
 uncle, than to anger him by any resistance. 
 It could not matter much if he did take her 
 away with him. Jesse had told her that no 
 power in England could take her from him, 
 when she was his wife, and therefore her uncle 
 must let her go back to her husband. So, 
 although her tears fell fast at the idea of 
 being thus dragged away from her happy 
 cottage home, she judged it wisest to make 
 no further opposition, and, rising from her 
 seat on the bed, she made haste to collect a 
 little bundle of clothes, and put on her 
 bonnet, and the warm shawl Jesse had bought 
 her the week before. She looked round for 
 something of his, and catching up a silk 
 neckerchief he had left, thrust it into her 
 bosom, and came down the stairs, dashing 
 the tears away as she saw Edward at the 
 bottom of the narrow flight. 
 
 " You will let me write to him, will you 
 not ? " she asked piteously. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; of course," Edward replied. 
 " Do make haste, do. But May cried, " Oh, 
 my ring ! I have dropped it ; I must go 
 back for it ; wait just one minute."
 
 268 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 "No, you cannot, — you cannot," said 
 Edward impatiently ; " I'll take care of it. 
 Come ! " 
 
 May spied the precious ring lying on the 
 lowest stair, and sprang back for it. Edward 
 tried to prevent her, but she reached the 
 stairs and caught it up. "I have it!" she 
 cried, in childlike defiance; but he pulled 
 her back towards the door, and whether 
 intentionally or not on his part, the ring was 
 struck from her hand, as he led her across 
 the garden to the fly, where Mr. Halton 
 was already seated f Crosskeys was on the 
 box, and as May was put in they drove off 
 May turned her face away from her uncle, and 
 no longer endeavoured to restrain her sobs. 
 
 It was more from asritation and indiq-nation 
 than from fear that she cried, for she ex- 
 pected Jesse would follow her and claim 
 her, and that her uncle could not refuse to 
 let her go ; but it might be some days before 
 he could follow her, and at this thought she 
 broke down altogether ; and before they 
 arrived at the railway, she was thoroughly 
 exhausted with crying and excitement.
 
 CAPTURED. 269 
 
 But it was not in May's nature to give 
 way to grief long in the presence of an un- 
 sympathising observer. Her intense pride had 
 early given her the habit of concealing her 
 emotions from any one she disliked or 
 thought unworthy of her confidence. It was 
 only when she knew she could safely in- 
 dulge it, that her imperious temper was 
 allowed to express itself It was this power 
 of self-control that made all her inferiors 
 look upon her as of a higher caste than 
 themselves, even when they saw she had 
 none of the polished manners of a gentle- 
 woman. " She is badly brought up, but she 
 is a real lady," said Mrs. Josiah; and every 
 one who came in contact with her echoed 
 the same sentiment. She was a true aris- 
 tocrat, in this power of self-command when 
 she had an object ; and she had now for an 
 object, not to allow her uncle to think she 
 was frightened, or that she was sorry for 
 having married Jesse against his wishes. 
 Once placed- in the train, she leaned back 
 in a corner in silence, and made no reply 
 to his repeated question, of why she had
 
 270 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 been so wicked and so ungrateful. She took 
 refuge in sullenness, and would give him no 
 information as to where Jesse might be 
 found, for she still feared that mischief 
 might be intended him ; and Mr. Halton, 
 tired at last of unprofitable questioning, and 
 of rebuking where no impression seemed to 
 be made, was silent also. It was late in the 
 night, or rather early the next morning, 
 before they reached Dunstable, and taking 
 a hack-carriage, drove to the house which 
 Mr. Halton had left in charge of an old 
 servant. It was a small square building, 
 standing by itself, with a hedged garden in 
 fronty. and a walled one behind. Mrs. Flint, 
 the occupant, who came to the door as" 
 soon as she could huddle on her dress, 
 was a tall, bony, ill-tempered looking 
 woman, from whom May shrank in fear as 
 soon as she saw her. 
 
 Mr. Halton made his niece descend from the 
 fly and enter the house before he answered 
 a word to Flint's expressions of surprise at 
 his unexpected appearance. And when the 
 door was shut and bolted, he said first, —
 
 CAPTURED. 271 
 
 " Have you a fire ? I am frozen to death. I 
 would like something warm to drink." 
 
 " I can light one in a minute, sir. Will you 
 go into the kitchen ; it is not so cold there ? " 
 said the housekeeper; and Mr. Halton, ob- 
 serving that he had been travelling all day 
 and night, followed May into the kitchen, 
 whence a current of warmer air seemed to 
 issue. The fire was out, but still there was a 
 little warmth hanging about the grate. Mrs. 
 Flint took some wood and coals, and ran up- 
 stairs to light a fire in one of the bedrooms, and 
 then she came back, and began to fill a kettle. 
 
 " I have brought my niece, Miss Cressing- 
 ham, Flint," said Mr. Halton, following her out 
 of the kitchen. " You must not leave her 
 a moment unwatched, or let any one see her 
 but yourself and your husband. She has run 
 away from her home, — run off with a sailor." 
 
 Mrs. Fhnt stood still, doubtful if she under- 
 stood aright ; but Mr. Halton reiterating his 
 orders that his niece should be kept a close 
 prisoner and not allowed to see any one, or even 
 write or receive letters, or be even supposed to 
 be in the house, lest the terrible story should
 
 2/2 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 get talked of, she began to comprehend and 
 respond with all the energy of offended virtue. 
 
 " I'll keep her well locked up, I warrant ; and 
 take care she sends no message out of the 
 house, a young hussy ! At her age — why she 
 don't seem eighteen, at most." 
 
 " She was seventeen last August," said Mr. 
 Halton ; — " only seventeen." 
 
 " She had ought to be kept on bread and 
 water, if I'd the ordering of her," said Flint 
 vindictively, as she swept into the kitchen 
 where May was waiting, her courage still 
 contending with cold, hunger, and the sense 
 of helplessness. " Come with me to your own 
 room," said Flint sharply. " You had need to 
 be ashamed of yourself." 
 
 The old spirit flashed up in May's eyes, and 
 for a moment her helplessness was forgotten, 
 as she turned to answer the insult conveyed in 
 the tone more than by the words. She looked 
 at the housekeeper steadily, as she measured 
 her from head to foot, and replied quietly, but 
 with cool dignity, — " When you have got my 
 room ready, you can let me know." 
 
 Mrs. Flint stood dumb for a moment, recoe-
 
 CAPTURED. 273 
 
 nising the tone of one used to be obeyed ; and 
 when she repHed, it was in a more civil tone, 
 to say there was a fire upstairs ; and May, 
 glad enough to hear it, followed her up to her 
 bedroom. Flint hurried to and fro, attending 
 now to Mr. Halton, and now to his niece, 
 receiving every time that she entered his 
 room, fresh instructions as to the strict custody 
 of the prisoner. She was to be seen by no 
 one, she was not to go into the garden, nor 
 receive any letters. This last injunction, which 
 May overheard, caused her great indigna- 
 tion, and some anxiety. Her courage being 
 restored by the warm tea that Flint brought 
 her, she rose and went to her uncle's room, 
 and reminded him that Edward had promised 
 her that she might write to her husband ; but 
 Mr. Halton answered her angrily : " You shall 
 do nothing of the kind ; if you know where he 
 is, why don't you tell me ? %I shall see him 
 myself, and find out if you are really married, 
 before I let you see him. Go to your own 
 room, child ; leave me, I am worn out, travelling 
 up and down after you. Go, and leave me. 
 Take her, Flint." 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 2 74 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 But May did not wait for Mrs. Flint's 
 nterference, she went back to her own room 
 and bolted herself in, her only instinct for 
 the time being, to protect herself from the 
 insolent questioning of the housekeeper, for 
 she knew that the loss of her little gold ring 
 exposed her to the harshest construction, and 
 to the most insulting contempt. She walked 
 up and down the room, indulging her tears for 
 half-an-hour ; but fatigue overcame her grief 
 at last, and she lay down and fell asleep, and 
 did not wake until long after her uncle had 
 left the house and returned to London, — after 
 reiterating his orders to Mrs. Flint, as to the 
 safe keeping of her prisoner. In Mrs. Flint's 
 mood of virtuous indignation, she promised 
 to obey all her master's injunctions most 
 thoroughly, and even regretted the misjudg- 
 ing leniency which made him decline the 
 idea of keeping the captive on bread and 
 water.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CHECK B V DISCO VER Y. 
 
 Edward Halton, meantime, stayed that night 
 at the cottage ; and having vainly searched 
 every corner for any letter or envelope that 
 might tell him where Jesse was to be found, 
 went the next morning to Filby and found 
 the clerk and the clergyman, and inquired if 
 there had really been a marriage solemnised 
 between his cousin and young Freeman. The 
 clergyman seemed more grieved than surprised 
 to learn the unsuitable social positions of the 
 parties. He said he had been struck with a 
 certain degree of refinement in the young girl, 
 and thought at the. time it was a pity she 
 should marry a mere sailor. " Both the young 
 men were wild reckless-looking fellows. I 
 thought the girls both too good for them," 
 he added ; " but I little expected this. But 
 you may feel assured that it is a real marriage." 
 " Yes ; I am afraid it is," said Edward ; "and 
 the question now is, what can we do for her ? "
 
 276 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 The clergyman was so astonished at the way 
 in which his assurance of the validity of the 
 marriage was received, that he could not re- 
 sume the thread of his ideas, and saw his 
 visitor depart in utter bewilderment. 
 
 Edward immediately wrote to his uncle. 
 " They are really married, and there is no help 
 for her as to her money, unless you have, as 
 I believe you will find you have, a power by 
 her father's will to keep back every penny till 
 she is of age, and in that case, perhaps you can 
 induce him to make some settlement upon her, 
 in consideration of receiving a present income. 
 That is your only chance. I will go to the 
 brother, Josiah Freeman, and tell him you can 
 keep his brother out of the money for four 
 years, and see if that will bring them to reason. 
 He may be more able to understand matters 
 than the rascal himself, — for the clergyman says 
 he was a thoroughly illiterate fellow. I have 
 written to Flint, and told her not to let Mar- 
 garet have any communication with him. I 
 will go now to Sandmouth, and write you 
 when I have seen the brother." 
 
 While Edward was out, posting this missive,
 
 CHECK BY DISCOVERY. 277 
 
 the letter-carrier, coming to the cottage and 
 finding the door locked, thrust a letter under 
 the door, and there young Halton discovered it. 
 It was addressed to Mrs. Freeman, and he 
 unceremoniously tore it open. He was startled 
 to see it apparently written in his uncle's 
 handwriting, and looked twice at the signature 
 before he could convince himself it came from 
 Jesse Freeman. But as soon as he saw the 
 misspelling of words and grammatical errors, 
 which were in curious contrast to the bold 
 gentlemanlike hand, he read the letter as if 
 it were an invoice, noticing the warm expres- 
 sions of affection in it only with a curse, as an 
 additional Iqsult to his own family, and looking 
 only for some clue as to the whereabouts of the 
 writer. This he could not find, the unbusiness- 
 like sailor having judged such minor details 
 as date and address superfluous, as his wife 
 knew where to write to him. Edward 
 could only learn that he was in some sailors 
 lodging-house in London, and very anxious 
 about some messmate who was in trouble. He 
 therefore went to Yarmouth, and set off for 
 Enderby, pondering in his mind the possibilities
 
 278 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 of saving his cousin in some degree from the 
 consequences of her folly, — her marriage having 
 now made Freeman undisputed master of all 
 she would possess on coming of age. Fortu- 
 nately, some of her property was in real estate, 
 and Edward had some hope of saving a little of 
 the money. He knew there was provision in 
 her father's will, empowering her guardian to 
 withhold the payment of income until she was 
 of age, in the event of her marrying contrary 
 to his wish ; and he thought it probable that, 
 when Freeman clearly understood, if he could 
 be made to understand, that for three years 
 and a half he could not touch a single farthing 
 of her money, he might be induced, in consider- 
 ation of a present supply, to make an equitable 
 settlement upon her for the future. That he 
 would have done this willingly, Edward could 
 not know or suppose. He inferred that if he 
 had not been a villain, he would not have lured 
 the ignorant girl into marrying him ; but still 
 it was possible, that even a villain, on finding 
 that the object of his villainy was frustrated for 
 nearly four years, would consent to forego some 
 of his profits in order to enjoy at once some of
 
 CHECK BY DISCOVERY. 279 
 
 the fruits of his scheme. It was this hope that 
 made Edward g-o to Sandmoiith to find Josiah, 
 on whose clearer head he rehed to make the 
 blundering sailor really aware of the extent to 
 which he had missed his aim, and convince 
 him he was still a poor man,— this being the 
 first step to bringing him to a compromise of 
 his future rights. 
 
 It is but fair to Edward, to remember, 
 parenthetically, that for some months past he 
 had been learning^, at his father's suq-orestlon, 
 to think of his cousin as possibly a future wife 
 for himself, which circumstance did not cause 
 him to req^ard Freeman less in the liorht of a 
 robber, and he deserved credit for the disin- 
 terested zeal with which he was now trying 
 to secure her from some of the consequences 
 of her rashness. 
 
 On reaching Enderby, Edward found it was 
 market-day, and thinking that Josiah might be 
 then in the town, buying corn or other commodi- 
 ties, he went to a banker who was his uncle's 
 correspondent, and made inquiries as to where 
 he might be likely to find Mr. Freeman. In 
 the course of conversation he was surprised
 
 28o ' WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 to hear that Mr. Freeman had lately paid a 
 debt to his corn-factor with a bill on his uncle's 
 house. Edward was surprised, — even startled, 
 — for he knew well that John Hal ton had re- 
 fused to lend Josiah any money, and scarcely 
 disguising his surprise, he asked the amount 
 and date of the bill. It was immediately shown 
 to him, having been brought to the bank 
 to be discounted, and Edward, remembering 
 the letter he had opened that morning, and the 
 wonderful resemblance between Jesse Free- 
 man's handwriting and his uncle's, suspected 
 mischief immediately. It was for one hundred 
 and sixty pounds, the sum which Josiah 
 had written to beg Mr. Halton to lend him, 
 calling it the rent of the Hermitage for two 
 years, to be paid in advance. Mr. Halton had 
 been so enraged at his impudence, that he had 
 told his nephew nothing should induce him to 
 lend the man a penny, and yet within three 
 weeks of his saying this, Josiah presented this 
 bill. It was simply incredible. The bill was 
 a forgery, — and a forgery by Jesse Freeman. 
 Here was villainy beyond what they had 
 imagined ; the man was no mere reckless
 
 CHECK BY DISCOVERY. 28 1 
 
 sailor, but an accomplished sharper. Poor 
 Margaret ! 
 
 Edward was quick enough to see that it 
 would be the height of folly to fix hastily a 
 charge of forgery on a man who was now con- 
 nected with themselves, and he must proceed 
 very cautiously. He excused his show of 
 astonishment when he first heard of the bill, 
 by saying again that his uncle had been un- 
 willing to help Mr. Freeman ; and then went 
 back to the inn, where he had ordered dinner, 
 and sat down to think. 
 
 After an hour's reflection, it seemed to young 
 Halton, that to convict his cousin's husband of 
 forgery, would only make bad matters worse ; 
 and he feared it would be as much the interest 
 of the whole Halton family, as it was Freeman's, 
 that the crime should go unpunished, and be 
 kept a secret among themselves. This had been 
 precisely Josiah's calculation, that " if the worst 
 came to the worst, they would not choose to 
 hurt Jesse ; while he himself could not be 
 reached except through convicting his brother." 
 In which calculation, Josiah had wilfully over- 
 looked the fact that the forgery might have
 
 282 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 been discovered by some clerk of Mr. Halton, 
 instead of by one of the family, and the matter 
 made public before the head of the house knew 
 of it, in which case very unpleasant loss of char- 
 acter would have been the result, although even 
 then it was most improbable any legal pro- 
 ceedings would have been taken against his 
 brother. 
 
 Horrified as he was in discovering Freeman 
 to be such a villain, Edward was not long in 
 seeing how effectually the commission of this 
 crime placed him in his uncle's hands, as 
 regarded the surrender of his young wife's 
 money. Mr. Halton could now insist on his 
 settling the whole upon her, as the only con- 
 dition of pardon. Edward wrote almost tri- 
 umphantly to his uncle : — 
 
 " He is a villain, — a rascal, — an unmitigated 
 scoundrel, but he has done the very thing we 
 might almost have prayed that he should do. 
 The game is in our hands now. You can strip 
 him, I think, of every penny ; and then he will 
 be too glad to be pensioned off away from her 
 in the colonies." Having written thus, Ed- 
 ward went to Sandmouth to look for Josiah ;
 
 CHECK BY DISCOVERY. 283 
 
 he heard he was at Enderby market, and 
 would soon be home. 
 
 Josiah Freeman was in Enderby, and he 
 heard that young Halton had been at the bank; 
 and, conscience adding wings to his imagina- 
 tion, he instantly guessed he had discovered 
 the forgery. There was no time for hesitation. 
 The discovery had been made many weeks too 
 soon ; he had meant that the bill should have 
 been safe at Enderby until Margaret should 
 have confessed her marriage, and been pardoned 
 by her guardian, and then he would have told 
 her the secret of the forgery, and let her confess 
 it to her uncle, who would then have no choice 
 but to forgive the crime, and repay himself 
 from his niece's money. But now all had gone 
 wrong ; the curtain had risen on the second act 
 of the drama before the first was played out, 
 and Josiah saw serious work before him. He 
 rushed to the railway, and took the up itrain, 
 and when he was safely seated in it, wondered 
 where he should go, and what ought to be done 
 first. He was not sure whether he ought not 
 to go and put his brother in safety before he 
 went to tell Margaret of his danger, and take
 
 254 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 her to her uncle to implore his forgiveness for 
 her bridegroom. He did not know for certain 
 if Jesse were still in London, and half doubted 
 if he should not find him returned to Yar- 
 mouth. But the train was going direct to 
 London, and he decided to go on there, and 
 look for Jesse, for, knowing the straightforward 
 bluntness and impetuosity of his brother, he 
 thought it would be wisest to have him safe out 
 of all possible danger of an interview with 
 Mr. Halton, lest he might anger him beyond 
 forbearance, or, more likely still, in his blunder- 
 ing innocence tell the whole story of his sign- 
 ing the papers, before witnesses whom it might 
 be difficult to silence afterwards if Mr. Halton 
 tried to do it. Josiah was not too sure where 
 he should find Jesse, if he were in London ; 
 but he knew he had gone to bear witness 
 for his friend Will, at the Guildhall, and 
 there he judged he should hear news of him. 
 It gave him a very disagreeable sensation 
 to go near a police court under present circum- 
 stances, — but it had to be done ; and there he 
 learned that Jesse and Sam having proved that 
 Will Codsins had been with them at Yarmouth
 
 CHECK BY DISCOVERY. 285 
 
 on the day when the offence was alleged to 
 have been committed, he had been acquitted 
 and set free, and that Jesse and Sam had gone 
 off to the Blue Posts at Wapping. There 
 Josiah -followed, and found them; he had no 
 need to ask if they were there, for a triumphant 
 jollification was going on inside. Jesse, who, 
 to do him justice, was almost sober, was sitting 
 at the head of the table, supported by Sam, 
 while his friends were drinking his health. 
 
 "Hurrah! for you, Jesse; and hurrah! for 
 you, Sam ; and may you never want a friend 
 to stand by you at the pinch. Shake hands." 
 There was a general shaking of hands, and 
 then more refreshments and more pipes were 
 brought in, and those who had not been at the 
 trial asked many questions concerning it. 
 
 " And so Will could not come, — gone home 
 to his wife ; aye, there are some others among 
 us who could give the same excuse if they was 
 minded to," said an older man, winking know- 
 ingly at the company. Jesse and Sam red- 
 dened laughed, and tried to cover their 
 confusion by drinking the landlord's health ; but 
 they were not allowed to escape so easily.
 
 286 WAITING FOR TlUlNGS. 
 
 " I say, Freeman, don't you want to get afloat 
 again ? Are not you tired of being on land ? 
 We want another hand in the Martha, she sails 
 for Ostend to-morrow ; you come with us." 
 
 " Ay, go with him, Jesse," said the old mate. 
 " Such active lads as you are always pining 
 after the salt water. You go aboard the 
 Mai^tha, and you'll feel quite happy and cheer- 
 ful like." 
 
 It was in the midst of the laugh which 
 followed this sally that Josiah came in. Jesse 
 started up in sudden alarm. " Anything wrong, 
 Josh ? In God's name, where is she ? " 
 
 " Oh, it's nothing ; she's all right, if it's your 
 wife you mean," said Josiah. "She is all right; 
 but I want to speak to you about business. 
 Can you come out with me ? " 
 
 " Say what you've got to say, here," said 
 Jesse in a surly tone, for he was ashamed of 
 his momentary fright. " They are my mess- 
 mates, all these here." 
 
 " I can't tell you, it's business," said Josiah. 
 looking round superciliously at the rough as- 
 sembly. " Can't we have a private room ? i-t's 
 business of importance.'
 
 CHECK BY DISCOVERY. 287 
 
 " Say it out here, and be d d to you," 
 
 growled his brother. " I'm not going to talk 
 about business to-night. You can keep it till 
 to-morrow if you like." 
 
 Josiah saw it would be in vain to urge his 
 request for a private conference, and seeing 
 ^that nothing but a strong statement would 
 attract Jesse's attention, said aloud ; " Mr. 
 Halton is going to be revenged upon you, 
 and • send you to gaol." 
 
 The word " gaol " was intelligible to all the 
 party, they were all sober in a moment. 
 " What for ? — what has Freeman done ? " 
 
 " Enough for him to be put in gaol for, if 
 Mr. Halton can catch hold of him," said Josiah, 
 who objected to telling Jesse the real state 
 of affairs before so many confidential friends. 
 
 ** Gaol! — what, for marrying his niece! " cried 
 Sam. "He can't though, it isn't law, I know 
 that." 
 
 " Ay, but I think it may be, though, if he 
 is a magistrate," said another. " Did you not 
 say she was a young lass as could have money ? 
 I think. Freeman, lad, you had best give him 
 the slip, and be hid for a day or two. Come 
 with us to Ostend."
 
 288 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 "Yes, do, Jesse, do," said Josiah, "or you'll 
 be in gaol to-morrow, and it will frighten your 
 wife to death. Go with them for a day or 
 two, and we will make it all square with Mr. 
 Halton." 
 
 " Ay, do lad ; do come," cried the mate ; and 
 Jesse himself was somewhat staggered. " But 
 I can't go without going home to Yarmouth," 
 he said, hesitating. 
 
 " I'll go and tell her about it," cried Sam, " if 
 you go and get safe. I'll go to her, me" and 
 Betty, and we'll comfort her, and stay with 
 her. You go." 
 
 " Yes, go, Jesse ; keep away for a week," 
 said Josiah. And as Jesse was in the habit of 
 obeying Josiah's directions, and his shipmates 
 were all of the same mind, he yielded, and 
 said he would go. 
 
 " One of you lads go with him on board 
 directly," cried Josiah ; " I'll see to the reckon- 
 ing." 
 
 " No ; Sam will see to it," said Jesse, empty- 
 ing his pockets on the table before Sam, and 
 catching up his hat, he went ; but at the bottom 
 of the stairs he called Sam, and as they
 
 CHECK BY DISCOVERY. 289 
 
 hurried along the street, gave him his messages 
 for Ma\\ 
 
 " Tell her I did not know what best to do, 
 and so I have gone, but I'll be back in three 
 days ; tell her to write a letter to me. Where 
 shall she send it to ? oh, tell her to send it 
 here, to the Blue Posts. I'll be back in three 
 days. You'll go and tell her yourself, Sam ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; you may be sure I shall, and 
 Betty will come with me." 
 
 " Don't leave it to Josh to do, — go yourself, 
 and take Betty to stay with her; and stay there 
 yourself, Sam, too, the cottage is too lonesome; 
 and mind " 
 
 "Jesse, man, the boat is ready," broke in 
 the stentorian voice of the old mate ; and Jesse 
 was hurried into the boat, and pulled off into 
 the river to the Martha, which was lying in 
 the stream. Josiah went back to the public 
 house, paid the reckoning, and hastened to 
 Yarmouth to find Margaret. He found there 
 only Edward Halton. 
 
 Edward had waited at Enderby for his 
 uncle's letter of instructions, or his arrival in 
 person. He hoped Mr. Halton would come 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 himself, as time was lost in letter-writing ; but 
 Mr. Halton, having already made a great 
 many journey^ in his pursuit of his niece, was 
 slow to move again, and wrote to his nephew, 
 telling him to see Josiah Freeman, and threaten 
 him and Jesse with the utmost penalty of the 
 law, and when he had thoroughly terrified him, 
 to hold out the promise of pardon, — only on 
 condition of Jesse's making a full surrender 
 of all his wife's property, as far as the law 
 would allow, by settling it on her for her 
 own private use. The deeds were to be 
 drawn up immediately, and be signed before 
 Jesse should attempt, or be allowed, an inter- 
 view with his wife again. Mr. Halton added, 
 as a suggestion, that if Josiah were not to 
 be found at Sandmouth, it might be as well 
 to look for him at Filby, as he would go 
 there to find his brother and Margaret. 
 Edward, following this suggestion, journeyed to 
 Yarmouth, prepared to call the police to help 
 him to discover Josiah ; but by accident he 
 met him at the railway station, as he was 
 returning from Filby, astonished and dismayed 
 to find Margaret gone and the cottage shut up.
 
 CHECK BY DISCOVERY. 29 1 
 
 Edward followed out his uncle's instructions 
 to the letter, threatening Josiah with the ex- 
 tremest rigour of the law ; but he saw that that 
 clever conspirator was not frightened, and 
 clearly understood he would not be punished. 
 Josiah was a keen scrutiniser of motives, and 
 close calculator of chances. He knew the 
 Haltons were as much interested as himself 
 in hushing the matter up, and he felt sure 
 that, as young Halton had come to find him 
 without a magistrate's warrant, the whole thing 
 was yet a secret among themselves, and there 
 would be a compromise. He pretended to be 
 very frightened, but Edward saw he was upheld 
 all the time by the certainty that Mr. Halton 
 would forgive the crime sooner than make 
 his niece's husband a felon. And when Josiah 
 whined, and equivocated, and denied his crime, 
 and accused Jesse, delicately pointing out that 
 it would be impossible to convict himself with- 
 out convicting Jesse first, and then implored 
 forgiveness for the sake of his own poor wife 
 and children, Edward grew disgusted and tired, 
 and said, more shortly than his uncle would 
 have ' deemed judicious, —
 
 292 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 " Come, Mr. Freeman, enough of that ; we 
 know what the credit of our family demands. 
 We have considered, and we know exactly how 
 much we are willing to sacrifice for our own 
 honour. We know we cannot, for our own 
 sakes, punish your brother and you as you 
 deserve, but we have the power over you, and 
 we mean to use it as we can for my cousin's 
 benefit." 
 
 Edward spoke decisively ; Josiah listened 
 attentively. He knew it was to come to this, 
 — that conditions were to be offered, and he 
 only wanted to know what. 
 
 " Mr. Halton says your brother must make 
 a settlement of his wife's whole fortune on 
 herself, for her sole and separate use, — -he and 
 I being her trustees," Edward said slowly. 
 " On this understanding only, he will stand 
 between the law and you. Now choose." 
 
 Josiah looked very crestfallen ; the condi- 
 tions were worse than he had expected. 
 
 " Does Mr. Halton intend to throw his 
 niece's husband entirely destitute on the 
 world ? " he asked. 
 
 "Yes; unless he prefers being provided for
 
 CHECK BY DISCOVERY. 293 
 
 in a convict ship," said Edward, drily. " He 
 has a trade, I suppose. Perhaps, when the 
 settlement is duly effected, his wife may allow 
 him something, on condition of his keeping 
 away from her and going to America ; but 
 I have nothing to do with that now. You 
 know the terms, — make your decision." 
 
 " My brother is not here," said Josiah, hesi- 
 tatingly ; " and I cannot promise for him ; nor 
 do I know where he is." 
 
 " Not know where he is ! " said Edward, 
 incredulously. " You had better find him di- 
 rectly, then ; this deed must be signed without 
 delay. If you don't find him to-morrow, I 
 shall tell the police to find him." 
 
 " I will find him the day after to-morrow," 
 said Josiah, now really alarmed. 
 
 " I shall set a policeman to watch you, Mr. 
 Freeman, till you find him and bring him to 
 our lawyers in London ; and if I have any 
 occasion to think you are trying to escape us, 
 we shall know how to prevent it. I advise 
 you to be diligent." 
 
 Edward then dismissed Josiah, after telling 
 the detective sent down by Mr. Crosskeys as
 
 294 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 his substitute, not to lose sight of him, and 
 returned to London to tell his father and uncle 
 they might expect to see Jesse Freeman come 
 in two days, and that he would be ready to 
 satisfy their utmost demands in the matter of 
 the settlement. 
 
 " All right," said Mr. Halton. " The man 
 feels he is in our power ; and after he has 
 made everything^ over to her, they must be 
 married again, Thjeodore, since you think there 
 is a doubt about the present marriage." 
 
 " Does my father think there is a doubt on 
 that point ? " asked Edward. 
 
 "Yes; and so do I, and so does Ouillett, 
 to whom we have already spoken," said Mr. 
 Halton. " There were great irregularities in 
 putting up the banns, and it may be invalid. 
 I think that after the money is settled on her 
 safely, they shall be married again." 
 
 "John, I thought I had explained myself 
 better," said Dr. Theodore. " I am going to 
 dispute the validity of the marriage ; if I can 
 save the girl from such a scoundrel, I will 
 do so, — it is my duty. A forger, an uncon- 
 victed felon, shall not have the power to make 
 the girl a victim for life."
 
 CHECK BY DISCOVERY. 295 
 
 '* But as she has already gone so far as to 
 marry him — " 
 
 " I shall dispute the marriage." 
 
 " And what will become of her reputation 
 while you are disputing it ? If there had been 
 no marriage at all, it might have been a ques- 
 tion, as you said, whether it would not have 
 been better to have hushed the story up, and 
 taken her abroad ; but now he will claim her 
 as his wife, and make it all public." 
 
 " No, indeed, he won't ; he is completely 
 in our power," said Dr. Theodore. " I shall 
 tell him it is no marriage, and that if he at- 
 tempts to publish it, we shall prosecute him 
 for this forgery. He will be silent for his 
 own sake, and I shall take her abroad next 
 week. I know a convent where they will be 
 kind to her, and I shall tell Ouillett to see 
 about the invalidity of the marriage." 
 
 INIr. Halton replied, and an earnest alterca- 
 tion ensued, to which Edward listened in sur- 
 prise and dismay ; for he saw that his father's 
 unwillingness to acknowledge his cousin's mar- 
 riage would end in no provision being made 
 for securing her money from Freeman. John
 
 296 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 Halton saw this also, and grew thoroughly 
 incensed at his brother's opposition. 
 
 " Look here, Theodore," he exclaimed at 
 last, " I won't stand such infernal nonsense ! 
 They shall be married. He shall draw up 
 the settlement to-morrow, or I will see him 
 transported ! " 
 
 "And listen to me, John," said Theodore, 
 in a tone of quiet decision. " I can make that 
 forgery public to-morrow, and have him ar- 
 rested ; and I shall do so, unless — this is my 
 alternative — he goes to America directly. I 
 won't let him remain- in England to tell how 
 he has deceived the girl, or to have a parcel 
 of lawyers quarrelling over a settlement that 
 is of no consequence, for the marriage is no 
 real one. I shall prosecute him, or see him 
 off to America. Now you have my deter- 
 mination." 
 
 " Good God ! what are we to do, Edward ?" 
 exclaimed Mr. Halton, as his brother left the 
 room. " He has stopped Ouillett, who was 
 preparing the deed of settlement, because he 
 says the marriage is void ; and he says that 
 he shall tell Freeman so. Why, then, if Free-
 
 CHECK BY DISCOVERY. 297 
 
 man has any sense at all, he will publish the 
 fact that he has married her, far and wide, 
 to prevent us thinking of prosecuting him. 
 You, Edward, — you have some sense, — go 
 after your father, and see if you can bring 
 him to reason." 
 
 . " No, sir ; I cannot interfere between you 
 and my father in this matter," said young 
 Halton, reddening. " You must speak to him 
 yourself; it is your business, not mine." 
 
 Mr. Halton could not deny this, and went 
 to his brother ; but he was not more succes- 
 ful than before in argument, and lost his 
 temper and patience. 
 
 " Your father is a -maundering fool ! " he 
 exclaimed to his nephew. "He has no right 
 to interfere at all in this matter, — he is not 
 the girl's guardian ; and the worst of it is, 
 that the moment he proceeds to make this 
 forgery public, the rascals will proclaim the 
 marriage to save themselves from him. I 
 don't see which way to turn." 
 
 " Well, sir, why do you wait for either them 
 or my father to make anything public ? " said 
 Edward, quickly. "Why don't you send Josiah
 
 298 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 Freeman to fetch his brother at once, and have 
 the money settled on Margaret before my fa- 
 ther makes up his mind what to do, or knows 
 what you are doing ? Then, when the story 
 comes out, even if my father proves it is not 
 a real marriage, it will look at least as if they 
 had believed it to be one, and there will be 
 less disgrace attached to it perhaps." 
 
 " That is an admirable idea, Edward. I 
 will act without your father. I have no need 
 to consult him in the matter, — he is not her 
 guardian. Go and find Josiah Freeman at 
 once — at once." 
 
 Edward lost no time. He found Josiah, 
 and told him that if Jesse were not forth- 
 coming to sign the deed of settlement (which 
 was to divest him as much as possible of his 
 rights over his wife's money,) within the next 
 four-and-twenty hours, John Halton was going 
 to indict him for the forgery. Josiah, who had 
 before taken Edward's threats for threats only, 
 was now alarmed and completely deceived. 
 He gave himself up for lost, and submitted 
 to his fate, promised to find Jesse, and went 
 to look for him under the escort of the detec-
 
 CHECK BY DISCOVERY. 299 
 
 tive, who had orders never to lose sight of 
 him. 
 
 But it was the triumph of Mr. Freeman's 
 inventive genius, that he achieved a crowning 
 victory in the very moment of utter defeat. 
 In that very moment, when all seemed hope- 
 lessly lost, he recognised that flight and appa- 
 rent submission would win the day. He was 
 certain that his brother's marriage would prove 
 a real one in spite of the irregularities that 
 might have subjected them both to penalties, 
 but did not invalidate it. He had consulted 
 a lawyer, and felt secure on that ground ; and 
 if he could only get Jesse and himself safe 
 out of England for a while, and persuade Mr. 
 Halton to give up the prosecution, his success 
 would be perfect. He remembered what Ed- 
 ward did not, that the forged bill would either 
 have to be protested, or retired by Mr. Halton 
 within six months ; and he saw that if he could 
 induce Mr. Halton to forgive Jesse sufficiently 
 to pass the forgery by, and retire the bill, there 
 would be no real evidence against him a year 
 later. He went to his wife, who had come 
 with him to London, and sent her to the Blue
 
 300 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 Posts at Wapping to meet Jesse, who would 
 return from Ostend that night ; and he sent 
 her with the message to Jesse, that he was to 
 be arrested for forgery ; and that Margaret, 
 whose name he knew would be omnipotent 
 with him, desired him to go on board a vessel 
 sailing for America. The detective, who was 
 in constant attendance on Mr. Freeman, had 
 received no orders to watch his wife, aiid 
 Mrs. Freeman carried the message to Jesse 
 while the detective accompanied Josiah back 
 to Edward ; and then Mr. Freeman made a 
 mock confession that his brother was concealed 
 at Yarmouth, and offered to go in search of 
 him. Edward would not allow this, but thinking 
 that Josiah himself required no further watch- 
 ing, sent the policeman to Yarmouth 'to find 
 Jesse ; and, as a consequence, Mr. Freeman 
 made good his escape, and joined his brother 
 in the river, just before the vessel weighed 
 anchor. 
 
 Then there was a terrible hour to pass with 
 Jesse, when it was shown him that he had 
 been made a criminal, and must seek safety 
 in flight. At first he was madly intent on
 
 CHECK BY DISCOVERY. 3OI 
 
 going back to vindicate himself; but Josiah 
 represented to him forcibly the misery and 
 humiliation which such a course must bring 
 on Margaret. 
 
 " They say she is not really married to you, 
 and she will be disgraced before all the world. 
 You can't prove you are innocent ; and she 
 will see you in prison, and cannot help you, 
 and all the newspapers will be talking of her. 
 How do you think she will bear it ? " 
 
 " And now, on the other hand," continued 
 Mr. Freeman, when Jesse, heartbroken by the 
 sense of disgrace, had ceased to upbraid him ; 
 "you know, and I know, the marriage is a 
 good one ; and they can't prove it is not. 
 If you will write a letter and put Mr. Halton 
 into a good humour, telling him you won't 
 come back, he will take that bill and retire it 
 — I forgot, you can't understand ; I mean, he 
 will say it is his own writing,' and pay the 
 money, and hush it all up ; and then he can't 
 ever bring it up against you again. So in six 
 months' time, you can come back to England 
 and claim your wife ; they will have found 
 out that the marriage is good by then I shall
 
 302 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 be the worst off ; for, by going away now, I shall 
 lose all my goods, and be, I daresay, ruined." 
 
 " Well, you deserve to be," said Jesse, bit- 
 terly. "And what will she say, when she finds 
 I am gone ? And she thought I was to pro- 
 tect her from her uncle." 
 
 "Well, yoii can't, as it happens, and they 
 won't hurt her ; she is all right ; she wanted 
 to know you were safe on board this ship. 
 You can write and tell her ; I'll manage to 
 send a letter ashore somehow." 
 
 Jesse was too thoroughly crushed to make 
 any further opposition. He sat down to write 
 to May. Josiah then suggested that he should 
 send a letter to soothe Mr, Halton's feelings. 
 
 " You write to him that you won't come back 
 and claim her for your wife, unless he wishes, 
 and then he will be satisfied." 
 
 " What ! — eh ! — what ! " thundered Jesse, 
 springing up and dashing down the paper. 
 "Give her up? In God's name! — give her 
 up ? Never ! — if he sends me to the hulks 
 for twenty years." 
 
 " You fool ! you would not be bound by such 
 a promise ; it would not prevent your coming
 
 CHECK BY DISCOVERY. 303 
 
 back directly he retires that bill, — you can come 
 back in six months. A man can't make a pro- 
 mise not to claim his wife, — it is not binding." 
 
 " And what would she think if she heard 
 it?" asked Jesse furiously. "You are the 
 devil himself, I think." 
 
 " Write to her, and tell her you won't come 
 back unless she likes," said Josiah, "for fear 
 you should disgrace her. That won't frighten 
 her, because she will like you to come, and will 
 tell you so ; but you must see that unless Mr. 
 Halton drops the prosecution against you, you 
 would only disgrace her by coming back ; and 
 such disgrace it would be ! Cannot you see ?" 
 
 After some more arguments, Josiah carried 
 his point, and Jesse wrote the letters. They 
 were sent on shore by the pilot ; and Mr. 
 Freeman wrote also to his wife, crivinor her 
 instructions how to conduct his affairs during 
 his absence. He had very little hope that 
 anything would be saved from the general 
 wreck, if he were not there himself; but he 
 gave her the best advice he could, super- 
 intended his brother's letter to Mr. Halton, 
 and even insisted on seeing the one to Mar-
 
 304 WAITING FOR TIDINGS. 
 
 garet. Jesse made no resistance, secretly re- 
 solving to write another ; and Josiah saw that 
 all would go well. 
 
 Mr. Hal ton and Edward were at first 
 confounded at finding the criminals beyond 
 their reach ; but, after a while, Mr. Halton 
 thought that while it was uncertain that the 
 marriage was legal, their flight very much 
 simplified matters. 
 
 " We could not have prosecuted them, and 
 the marriage would have been known, and we 
 should have been disgraced," said John Hal- 
 ton ; " now we have time to breathe and think. 
 And Margaret, is she to go with your father to 
 France, till we find out if the marriage is legal ?" 
 
 " No ; I have persuaded him to leave her 
 at Dunstable ; she is safe there, and is better 
 off than she would be in a convent, if he took 
 her to one." 
 
 " Yes ; and the chances would be ten to one 
 he would take her out of it, or she would escape," 
 said Mr. Halton. " It is much better I should 
 keep her under my own eye till we know 
 whether the marriage will hold good or not." 
 
 END OF VOL. I.'
 
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 14 
 
 Works Published by Hem-y S. King e- Co. 
 
 INDIA AND THE EAST. 
 
 THE THREATENED FAMINE IN BENGAL; Iluw it may he 
 Mkt, and TiiK KixuRRr.Ncr. OF Faminks in India Pkevk.ntkji. 
 Iking Xo. I of "Occasional Notes on Indian Affairs." By Sir H. 
 Bartle E. Frere, G.C.B., G.C.S.I., &c., &c. Crown 8vo. ^Yit!l 
 
 3 Maps. Price ^s. 
 
 world in their native jiin;;le. It is seldom 
 we get so many exciting incidents in a 
 similar amount of space . . . Well suited to 
 the libraries of country gentlemen and all 
 those who are interested in sporting mal- 
 ters." -tV-vV Scti'ke CazctU: 
 
 THE ORIENTAL SPORTING MAGAZINE. A Reprint of the 
 5 \'olumes, in 2 Volumes, demy Svo, price 28x. 
 
 ■' Lo\ers of sport will find anvple amuse- | 
 
 inent in the varied contents of these two : 
 volumes."— .4 //i-«"j Jmiinn M,hI. 
 
 " Full of interest for the sportsman and ' 
 
 naturalist. Full of thrilling adventures of , 
 
 sportsmen who have attacked the fiercest ] 
 
 and most gigantic specimens of the animal I 
 
 THE EUROPEAN IN INDIA. A Hand-book of Practical Infomiatioi; 
 for those proceeding to, or residing in, the East Indies, relating to Outfits. 
 Routes, Time for Departure, Indian Climate, &c. By Edmund C. P. 
 Hull. With a Medical Guide for Anglo-Indians. Being a Com- 
 pendium of Advice to Europeans in India, relating to the Preservation and 
 Regulation of Health. By R. S. Mair, M.D., F.R.C.S.E., late 
 Deixity Coroner of ]\Iadras. In i vol. Post Svo. Cj. 
 
 "Full of all sorts of useful information 
 to the English settler or traveller in India." 
 Sttiudard. 
 
 " One of the most valuable books ever 
 published in India — valuable for its sound 
 information, its careful array of pertinent 
 facts, and its sterling; common sense. It 
 
 supplies a want which few persons may 
 have discovered, but which everybody 
 will at once recognise when once the con- 
 tents of the book have been mastered. 
 The medical part of the work is invalu- 
 able."— Crt/c-«,V<. (;;/,i;<l'/«/.. 
 
 THE MEDICAL GUIDE FOR ANGLO-INDIANS. Being a Com- 
 pendium of advice to Europeans in India, relating to the Preservation 
 and Regulation of Health. By R. S. Mair, F.R.C.S.E., late Deputy 
 Coroner of Madras. Reprinted, with numerous adtliiiuns and collection^, 
 froni "The European in India." 
 
 EASTERN EXPERIENCES. By L. Bowring, C.S.I., Lord Cannings 
 Private Secretary, and for many years tlie Chief Commissioner of Mysore 
 
 .and Coorg. 
 J diagrams 
 
 ".^n admirable and exhaustive geo- 
 graphical, political, and industrial survey." 
 — .-/ thciueuiit. 
 
 ""IT.is compact and methodical simi- 
 niary of the most authentic infomiaiion 
 1 elating to countries whose welfare is 
 
 In I vol. Demy Svo. \bs. Illustrated with Maps and 
 
 intimately connected with our own." — 
 Daily Neivs, 
 
 " Interesting even to the general reader, 
 but more especially so to those who may 
 h.ive a special concern in that portion of 
 cur Indian Empire." — Post. 
 
 65, Cornhili ; &• 12, Paternoster Row, London.
 
 Works rnblislLcd fy Henry S. King &> Co., 15 
 
 India and the East — continued. 
 
 TAS-HIL UL KALAM; or, Hindustani Made Easy. By Captain 
 W. R. M. Holroyd, Bengal Staff Corps, Director of Public Instruction, 
 Punjab. Crown Svo. Price ^s. 
 
 "As cle.ir and as instructive as possible." I information, that is not to be found in any 
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 "Contains a great deal of most necessary | our path."— //ot/u-cvnyd Mail. 
 
 Second Edition. 
 
 WESTERN INDIA BEFORE AND DURING THE MUTINIES. 
 Pictures drawn from Life. By Major-Gen. Sir George Le Grand 
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 "The most important contribution to I "Few men more competent than lum- 
 
 the history of ^\■estem India during the i self to speak ^ authoritatively concerning 
 
 Alutinies which has yet, in a popular Indian affairs." — Standard. 
 
 form, been made \>vi!aX\c." —.■lthcn<Euin. | 
 
 EDUCATIONAL COURSE OF SECULAR SCHOOL BOOKS 
 FOR INDIA. Edited by J. S. Laurie, of the Inner Temple, Barrister- 
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 Director of Public Instruction, Ceylon. 
 
 " These valuable little works will prove I Civil Service of India." — Civil .?<•>- 
 of real service to many of our readers, (Jazctte. 
 especially to tliose who intend entering the | 
 
 The follcmnng Works are noxo ready: — 
 
 s. d. I J. d. 
 
 ^HE FIRST HINDUSTANI j GEOGEAPHY OF INDIA, with 
 
 READER, stiff linen wrapper . .06 Maps and Historical Appendix, 
 
 Ditto ditto strongly bound in cloth .0 9 ' tracing the growth of the British 
 
 THE SECOND HINDUSTANI i Empire in Hmdustan. 128 pp. 
 
 READER, stiff linen wrapper . . o 6 I Cloth 16 
 
 Ditto ditto strongly bound in cloth .091 
 
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 ELEMENTARY GEOGRAPHY OP I PACTS AND FEATURES OF INDIAN 
 INDIA. HISTORY, in a series of alternating 
 
 I Reading Lessons and Memory Exercises. 
 
 EXCHANGE TABLES OF STERLING AND INDIAN RUPEE 
 CURRENCY, ui'ON a new .\nd extended system, embracing Value- 
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 Donald Fraser, Accountant to the British Indian Steam Navigation Co., 
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 "The calculations must have entailed 
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 standard one in all busmess houses which 
 
 have dealings with any country where the 
 rupee and tUe English pound are stand.-ird 
 couis of currency." — Iiwcriuss Courier. 
 
 65, CornJiill I d^ 12, Paternoster Pow, London.
 
 Works Published by Henry S. King cv Co., 
 
 BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG AND FOR LENDING 
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 NEW WORKS BY HESBA STRETTON. 
 
 CASSY. A New Story, by Hesba Stretton. Stiuare Crown Svo, Illus- 
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 " We have been more than pleased with I " Full of deep feeling and true and noble 
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 IVorld. I 
 
 SEEKING HIS FORTUNE, AND OTHER STORIES. Qxo\\xi Svo. 
 
 Four Illustrations. Price 3^-. 6(/. 
 
 Contents.— Seeking his Fortune.— Oluf and Stephanoff. —What's in a Name ?— 
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 Three ^Vorks by Mariha F.\Korii vrso.n. 
 
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 II. ELSIE'S GIRLHOOD. Cro\\-n Svo, y. dd. 
 
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 THE AFRICAN CRUISER. A Midshipman s Adventures on the West 
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 " A capital storj- of youthful .idventure. 
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 " Sea yams have alw a)s been in favour 
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 by a thorough sailor, is crammed full of 
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 65, ConiJiill ; 6^ 12, Paternoster Ro7V, London.
 
 JForJes Published by Henry S. King (s^ Co., 17 
 
 Books for the Vouxg, etc. — fojifhiut-d. 
 
 THE LITTLE WONDER-HORN. By- Jean Ingelow. A Second 
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 BRAVE MEN'S FOOTSTEPS. A Book of Example and Anecdote for 
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 PLUCKY FELLOWS. A Book for Boys. By Stephen J. Mac Kenna. 
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 " This is one of the verj' best ' Books for I throughout in a manly straightforward 
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 "A thorough book for boys . . . written | 
 
 GUTTA-PERCHA WILLIE, THE WORKING GENIUS. By 
 George Macdonald. With Illustrations hy Arthur Hughes. Crown 
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 " The cleverest child we know assures us I accept that verdict upon his little work as 
 she has read this story through five times. final." — Spectator. 
 Mr. Macdonald will, we are convinced, | 
 
 THE TRAVELLING MENAGERIE. By Charles Camden, Author 
 
 of "Hoity Toity." Illustrated by J. Mahoney. Crown 8vo. 3^.6^/. 
 
 " A capital little book .... deser\es a I "A very attractive story." — Public 
 wide circulation among our boys and girls." Opinion. 
 —Hour. I 
 
 THE DESERT PASTOR, JEAN JAROUSSEAU. Translated from 
 the French of Eugene Pelletan. By Colonel E. P. De L'Hoste. 
 
 In fcap. Svo, with an Engraved Frontispiece. New Edition, Price 3^-. dd. 
 
 " A touching record of the struggles in I tentious religion; pure love, and tha 
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 turesqueness : the noblest heroism ; unpre- I 
 
 THE DESERTED SHIP. A Real Story of the Atlantic. By Cupples 
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 3J. 6d. 
 
 "Curious adventures with bears, seals, I material with which the story deals, and 
 and other Arctic animals, and with scarcely will much interest boys who have a spice 
 more human Esquimau.x, form the mass of | ofrom-mceintheircomposition." — Courant. 
 
 HOITY TOITY, THE GOOD LITTLE FELLOW. By Charles 
 Camden. Illustrated. Crown Svo. y. dd. 
 
 " Relates very pleasantly the history of I affairs and helps them to do right. There 
 a charming little fellow who meddles always I are many shrewd lessons to be picked up in 
 with a kindly disposition with other people's | this clever little stor>-." — Piwlic Opinion. 
 
 65, CornJiill ; e>' 12, Paternoster Row, London.
 
 Works Published by Henry S. King ^ Co. 
 
 Books for the Young, etc. — continued. 
 
 SCLAVONIC FAIRY TALES. From Russian, Servian, Polish, ami 
 
 IJohcniian Sources. Translated l)y John T. Naake. Crown Svo. 
 
 Illu^U•atc^l. Price 5.f. [y>/.f/ out. 
 
 AT SCHOOL WITH AN OLD DRAGOON. By Stephen J. 
 
 Mac Kenna. Crown Svo. 5^. Witii Six Illustrations. 
 
 ■■ Consisting almost entirely of st.-irtling '" Mr. Mac Kenna's former work. " Plucky 
 
 stories of military adventure . . . Boys will Fellows," is already a general favourite, and 
 find them sufficiently exciting re.iding." — those who read the stories of the <Jld 
 J'iiiics. Dragoon will find that he has still plenty of 
 
 " These yarns give some very spirited • materials at hand for pleasant tales, and 
 and interesting descriptions of soldiering has lost none of his power in telling them 
 in various parts of the world." — Spectator. \ well." — Staudard. 
 FANTASTIC STORIES. Translated from the German of Bichard 
 Leander, by Paulina B. Granville. Crown Svo. Eight full-page 
 Illustrations, by M. E. Fraser-Tytler. Price 5^. 
 
 '"Short, quaint, and, as they are fitly I "' Fantastic' is certainly the right epithet 
 called, fantastic, they deal with all manner to apply lo some of these strange tales." — 
 of subjects." — Guardian. \ E.vaminer. 
 
 Third Edition. 
 
 STORIES IN PRECIOUS STONES. By Helen Zimmern. With 
 
 Six Illustrations. Crown Svo. 5^-. 
 
 "A pretty little book which fanciful I " .\ series of pretty tales whi;h are half 
 
 young persons will appreciate, and which | fantastic, half natural, and pleasantly 
 
 will remind its readers of many a legend, and I quaint, as befits stories intended for the 
 
 many an imaginar>' virtue attached to the young." — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 gems they are so fond of wearing." — Post. \ 
 
 THE GREAT DUTCH ADMIRALS. By Jacob de Liefde. Crown 
 
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 " May be recommended as a wholesome I " A really good book." — Standard. 
 present for boys. 'I'hey will find in ii nu- "A really e.xcellent book." — Spectator. 
 
 merous tales of adventure." — Atlieii<rum. \ 
 PHANTASMION. A Fairy Romance. A new Edition. By Sara Cole- 
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 LAYS OF A KNIGHT ERRANT IN MANY LANDS. By Major- 
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 Pharaoh Land. Wonder Land. 
 
 Home Land. Rhine Land. 
 
 BEATRICE AYLMER AND OTHER TALES. By the Author of 
 
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 THE TASMANIAN LILY. By James Bonwick. Crown Svo. 
 
 Illustrated. Price 5.r. 
 
 "An interesting and useful work." — I conceived, and are full of those touches 
 Hour. which t;i\e them a natural appearance." — 
 
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 MIKE HOWE, THE BUSHRANGER OF VAN DIEMEN'S 
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 Courant. 
 
 65, CornJiill ; Cs^ 12, Paternoster Row, London.
 
 Works Published by Henry S. -Kifig 6^ Co., 19 
 
 Messrs. HiiXKV S. King & Co. have the pleasure to announce that they will shortly issue ;ui 
 Edition of the Laureate's works, in Ten Monthly I'ohaiics, to be entitled " The Cabinet 
 Edition," at Half-a-C roivii each, which will contain the whole of Mr. Tennyson's works. The 
 first volume will be illustrated by a beautiful Photographic Portrait, and subsecjuent Volumes will 
 each contain a Frontispiece. They will be tastefully bound in Crimson Cloth, and will be issued 
 in the following order :— 
 
 The Cabinet Edition. 
 
 Vol. I. Miscellaneous Poems. I Vol. 6. Idylls of the King. 
 
 ,, 2. Miscellaneous Poems. I ,, 7. Enoch Arden. 
 
 ,, 3. Miscellaneou.s Poems. ) ,, 8. Maud. 
 
 ,, 4. Idylls of the King. j ,, 9. The Princess. 
 
 ,, 5. Idylls of the King. I ,, 10. In Memoriam. 
 
 .Subscribeis' names received by all Booksellers. 
 
 WORKS BY ALFRED TENNYSON, D.C.L., 
 
 PuET LAURE.VFE. 
 
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 POEMS. Small Svo 90 
 
 MAUD AND OTHER POEMS. Small Svo 50 
 
 THE PRINCESS. Small Svo 50 
 
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 THE HOLY GRAIL, AND OTHER POEMS. Small Svo . 7 o 
 
 GARETH AND LYNETTE. Small Svo 50 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THE ABOVE WORKS. Square Svo, 
 
 clotli extra ...........50 
 
 SONGS FROM THE ABOVE WORKS. Square Svo, cloth estra 5 o 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. Small Svo 60 
 
 LIBRARY EDITION OF MR. TENNYSON'S WORKS. 
 
 6 vols. Post Svo each 10 6 
 
 POCKET VOLUME EDITION OF MR. TENNYSON'S ' 
 
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 ,, gilt edges . . . . . . . . . 50 o 
 
 THE WINDOW: OR, THE SONGS OF THE WRENS. 
 A Series of Songs. By Alfred Tennysox. Witli Music by Akmilk 
 Sullivan. 4to, cloth, gilt extra 21 o 
 
 65, Cornhill ; 6^ 12, Paternoster Pow, London.
 
 JV0r/!s Published by Henry S. King d- Co., 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 LYRICS OF LOVE, Selected and arranged from Shakspeare to Tennyson, 
 by W. Davenport Adams. P'cap. 8vo, price 3^. (>d. 
 
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 work, delightful in its contents and so pretty up . . It is particularly rich in poems from 
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 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT'S POEMS. Red-line Edition. Hand- 
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 ENGLISH SONNETS. Collected and Arranged by John Dennis. 
 
 Small crown Svo. Elegantly bound, price 3.?. 6(/. 
 
 " An exquisite selection, a selection which 
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 again with delight. The notes are very 
 useful. . . . The volume is one for which 
 
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 " Mr. Dennis has shown great judgment 
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 HOME-SONGS FOR QUIET HOURS. By the Rev. Canon B. H. 
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 THE DISCIPLES. A New Poem. By Harriet Eleanor Hamilton 
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 ASPROMONTE, AND OTHER POEMS. Second Edition, cloth, 4.^. 6d. 
 
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 is no reason for the author to be ashamed | poetic merit, the event celebrated being 
 
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 inspired by genuine enthusi.ism in the "The verse is fluent and free." — S/>eL- 
 
 cause espoused ; and one of them, ' The | tator. 
 
 SONGS FOR MUSIC. By Four Friends. Square crown Svo, price 5x. 
 
 CONTAINING SONGS BV 
 Reginald A. Gatty. Stephen H. Gatty. 
 
 GrevilleJ. Chester. Jidiana H. Ewing. 
 
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 ROBERT BUCHANAN, THE POETICAL AND PROSE WORKS 
 
 OF. Collected lulilion, in 5 Vols. Vol. I. contains, — " Ballads 'ami 
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 \_ls now ready. 
 
 Vol. II. — "B.-ilIads and Poems ofLifo;" I Vol. III.— "Cruiskeen Sonnets:" "Book 
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 The Contents of the remaining Volumes will be duly announced. 
 
 THOUGHTS IN VERSE. Small crown Svo. Price 15. 6d. 
 
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 65, Cornhill ; d?* 12, Paternoster Row, Londoti.
 
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 Poetry — continued. 
 
 COSMOS. A Poem. Small crown 8vo. Price 
 
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 Slt.ject.— Nature in the Past and in the 
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 NAECISSUS AND OTHER POEMS. 
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 IMITATIONS FROM THE GERMAN 
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 METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM 
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 " Pregnant from beginning to end with 
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 THE INN OP STRANGE MEETINGS, 
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 EROS AGONISTES. ByE.B.D. Crown 
 
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 "It is not the least merit of these 
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 CALDERON'S DRAMAS. Translated from 
 the Spanish. By Denis Florence Mac- 
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 " The lambent verse flows with an ease, 
 .spirit, and music perfectly natural, liberal, 
 and harmonious. "— Spectator. 
 
 "It is impossible to speak too highly of 
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 SONGS FOR SAILORS, By Dr. W. C. 
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 to H. R. H. the Duke of Edinburgh. 
 Crown Svo. 3.?. (bd. With Steel Portrait 
 and Illustrations. 
 
 An Edition in Illustrated paper Covers, 
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 WALLED IN, AND OTHER POEMS. 
 By the Rev. Henry J. Bulkeley. Crown 
 ovo. 5^. 
 
 " A remarkable book of genuine poetry." 
 —Evening Standard. 
 
 "Genuine power displayed." — E.va- 
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 " Poetical feeling is manifest here, and 
 the diction of the poem is unimpeachable." 
 
 Pail Mall Case tie. 
 
 65, CoruhUl ; O"* 12, Paternoster Pav, London.
 
 lVo?-ks Published by Henry S. King 6- Co. 
 
 Poetry — continued. 
 
 SONGS OF LIFE AND DEATH. By 
 John Payne, Author of " Intaglios," 
 "Sonnet?," "The Masque of Shadows," 
 etc. Crown Svo. 5^. 
 
 " The art of ballad-writing has long been 
 ost in England, and Mr. Payne may claim 
 to be its restorer. It is a perfect delight to 
 meet with such a ballad as ' May Margaret ' 
 in the present volume." — Westminster 
 
 A NEW VOLUME OF SONNETS. By 
 the Rev. C. Tennyson Turner. Crown 
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 " Mr. Turner is a genuine poet ; his song 
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 THE DREAM AND THE DEED, AND 
 OTHER POEMS. By Patrick Scott, 
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 ".\ bitter and able s.atire on the vice 
 and follies of the day, literary, social, and 
 political."— .S'^rtKrt'rtr^. 
 
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 24 
 
 Works PubUsJicd by Henry S. King ot^ Co.. 
 
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 Works Published by Henry S. King cy> Co., 25 
 
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 26 Works Published by Henry S. King 6- Co., 
 
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