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LI B RAHY 
 
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 Of ILLINOIS 
 
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NEW NOVELS BY POPULAR AUTHORS. 
 
 In Two Vols. 21s. 
 
 SWEET BELLS JANGLED. 
 
 By CHALLYS VANE. 
 
 In Three Vols. Price 31s. 6d. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 FIRM IN THE STRUGGLE. 
 
 By EMMA PICKERING, 
 
 Author of "Forsaking all Others," &c. 
 
 * c Miss Pickering always writes like a lady of education and refine- 
 ment. The dialogue of ' Firm in the Struggle' is clever, abounding 
 in smartness and piquancy. Amongst trees, and flowers, and quiet 
 country scenes, she is thoroughly at home, and these she sketches 
 with happy effect and truthfulness." — Albion. 
 
 " The contemptuous scorn of the usually gentle Avice, the thorough 
 goodness of Hugh, or the affectation of Maud are drawn most natu- 
 rally, while Lily and Bessie are perfect characters."— John Bull. 
 
 "The story is extremely interesting, and never flags for a single 
 page. We scarcely know a fiction of modern times in which the 
 characters are so well sketched and sustained. Many of the de- 
 scriptions of country life and scenery are quite equal to those so ad- 
 mirably depicted in ' Adam Bede.' " — Daily Guardian. 
 
 " Miss Pickering's truthful pictures of country life and scenery are 
 not surpassed by any of the female novelists of the present time."— 
 Brighton Guardian. 
 
 "This novel is fair and fresh as May flowers, and deserves for its 
 ability of treatment and purity of tone the highest praise. All the 
 characters are well and evenly drawn , and show a great harmony of 
 treatment. It is a story of life : full of life's sorrows, temptations, 
 joys, and triumphs." — Drawing-room Gazette. 
 
 1 ' The skill of the authoress has allowed her to rise into the higher 
 regions of imaginative lore." — Bell's Messenger. 
 
 "Interesting, well written and wholesome. It contains a number 
 of natural incidents clearly described. Humour and pathos show 
 that Miss Pickering possesses the power to enlist the sympathies and 
 command the attention of her readers, while the regular succession 
 of events, and the unbroken thread of the narrative, never allow the 
 interest to flag." — The Bookseller. 
 
 ' ' ' Firm in the Struggle' is entirely free from the worst blemishes 
 of modern fictions.'' — Observer. 
 
—Kail-ways, postages— in a word, all the numerous facilities of the 
 age — have almost annihilated distance, and, as a natural result, 
 caused an individual trade hetween country customers and London 
 estahlishments. Those who do not visit town, so as to select and 
 purchase directly, send for patterns from which they can give their 
 orders. But as all apparent advantages on the one hand have more 
 or less their corresponding dra whacks, so this system is not without 
 its hane. Pushing tradesmen make a market by offering goods at 
 lower rates than they can possibly be sold at to realise a fair profit. 
 The bait traps the unreflective, and the result is that the receipts en 
 masse are not equal to the tempting samples. There is no new inven- 
 tion in this; it has been practised in wholesale merchandise and by 
 candidates for contracts, as the proverb hath it, since there were hills 
 and valleys. But we grieve to add it is sometimes resorted to by 
 those whom one would credit for more integrity. Ladies, therefore, 
 need exercise caution, and place confidence only in houses of old- 
 established fame, for rapidly-made businesses are not generally reli- 
 able. And to what does this assertion amount more than to the fact 
 that nothing great can be effected not only without labour but with- 
 out time, and that Borne was not built, as the old saying says, in a 
 day ? Messrs. Jay, of Begent-street, whose name is well known 
 amongst the few on the Lst of bond fide establishments in the metro- 
 polis, have adopted a plan for assisting country ladies in choosing 
 for themselves London fashions and fabrics . And their customers may 
 rest assured that they will thus be enabled to obtain goods of every 
 quality, both low and high priced, at the most reasonable terms — 
 that is, the terms of small profits for quick returns — and that they 
 may firmly rely upon the thoroughly corresponding character of 
 samples and supplies.— From the Court Journal. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 IN THEEE VOLUMES 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANK TROLLOPB, 
 
 ADTHOB OF 
 
 " THE MARKED MAN," " BROKEN FETTERS," " AN OLD MAN'S SECRET,' 
 
 "a right-minded woman," &c. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 London : 
 T. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, 
 
 30, WELBECK STEEET, CAVENDISH SQUAKE. 
 
 1872. 
 
 [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/gladstonesnovel01trol 
 
^£3 
 
 A) 
 
 T% 
 
 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 Co 
 I 
 
 2 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 One fine autumn evening in the year 18 — , 
 
 two men and their wives were sitting on the 
 
 , banks of a trout stream that meandered 
 
 •v through one of the most picturesque valleys 
 
 -in Yorkshire. A group of children were 
 
 4 amusing themselves at some childish game a 
 
 few yards from the river side, and, apart from 
 
 .both, two girls were conversing on matters of 
 
 _ their own. 
 
 The two men — William Crisp and Henry 
 
 Salmon — were factory men, and were talking 
 
 ~> 
 
 on a variety of subjects, interesting not alone 
 
 VOL. I. .B 
 
2 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 to themselves, but to others in their position ; 
 of bad times, low wages, and the high price 
 of meat, bread, &c. 
 
 " We shall never again see the good times 
 we had during the war, William," said Henry 
 Salmon, in his usual grumbling tone. " Those 
 were the days for such as we, when we had 
 as much work as we could do, from month's 
 end to month's end ; aye, and what's more, 
 we were well paid for our labour." 
 
 " Yes, Henry, what you say is true enough; 
 but the war could not last for ever, and God 
 forbid that it should," rejoined William Crisp. 
 
 " I can't say ' amen ' to that wish, if reduc- 
 tion of wages is to be the finish of it !" said 
 Salmon. "Why, I could earn as much in a 
 couple of days during the war as I can now 
 in a week. I am told, too, that Philips and 
 Young are going to put their men on half- 
 time next week." 
 
 " That's a terrible thing, Henry," said 
 Crisp, with a saddened smile ; " but for the 
 matter of that, none of us, I dare say, are in 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 6 
 
 a much better condition. Mr. Gladstone gave 
 me a hint of something of the kind the day 
 before yesterday." 
 
 « Did he ?" 
 
 " Yes ; and that reminds me I promised to 
 step up to ' The Rookery' to-night," said 
 Crisp, and, after a minute, he continued, ad- 
 dressing his wife, — " Are you ready to go 
 home, Mary?" 
 
 " As soon as you please, William," returned 
 Mrs. Crisp. "It's getting rather chilly now 
 the sun is going down, and Jessie is very 
 delicate, you know." 
 
 " I don't think you are over strong, 
 missus," said Salmon, more good-humouredly, 
 as he turned to his sister-in-law. " Just look 
 at my Bess, what a fat, strong wench she 
 is !" 
 
 " Ah, Henry, you know I was always one 
 of Pharoah's lean kine !" laughed Mrs. Crisp. 
 " But what were you saying about your 
 factory being put on half-time ?" 
 
 " Oh ! you heard what I said, Mary," in- 
 
 b 2 
 
4 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 terrupted Salmon, gruffly. " We are all to 
 be put on short commons next week, I ex- 
 pect." 
 
 " Is trade so very bad ?" asked Mrs. Crisp, 
 in an anxious tone. 
 
 " They say so." 
 
 " That's different to what William expected. 
 At this season, too, when the manufactories 
 are generally so full of orders. My husband 
 always predicted that trade would improve 
 instead of getting worse, when the war was 
 over." 
 
 " So I did, my dear," said her husband ; 
 " but you see, Mary, I am but a poor prophet 
 after all." 
 
 "No doubt of that," growled Salmon. 
 
 " Come, Henry," said his fat, good-tempered 
 wife, speaking for the first time, " what's the 
 use of making yourself unhappy ? If the 
 manufacturers put their hands on short com- 
 mons, we must try something else." 
 
 " Try something else !" repeated her hus- 
 band. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 5 
 
 " Yes, I can try manty-making." 
 
 "I hate manty-making, Bess !" said Salmon, 
 almost snrlily. 
 
 " But 'tis better than having to live upon 
 short commons," cried his wife, laughing. 
 
 " I'd rather see you do anything than 
 stitching your fingers off for such beggarly 
 pay as you'd get." 
 
 " I only wish I was strong enough to 
 work," said Mrs. Crisp, looking affectionately 
 into her husband's face, with that peculiar, 
 silent smile that many invalids have. " I 
 know William would not object to my doing 
 my best to get the bairns bread." 
 
 " Certainly not, Mary," said her husband 
 gravely ; " but with your poor health you 
 have quite as much as you can do to keep the 
 house tidy and the bairns neat and clean. 
 How very quiet they are," he added, looking 
 towards the group. 
 
 " Bobby and Jessie are scarcely ever 
 noisy," said the mother. " Jessie, dear, 
 
6 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 don't you think we had better be making the 
 best of onr way home ?" 
 
 "Yes, mother, if yon like," said a sickly 
 child of abont six years old, in a feeble voice, 
 from the group of children. 
 
 " You are very quiet to-night, lass," said 
 her father, lifting her up into his arms and 
 kissing the pale face that nestled snugly upon 
 his breast. " What's the matter with you ?" 
 
 " I don't know, father ; I am very tired. 
 Will you carry me home ?" pleaded the child. 
 
 " That I will, my pet. Come, Mary, 'tis 
 time we were going. Sarah, bring Bobby 
 and Tommy." 
 
 William Crisp began to walk towards home. 
 
 The two young women arose, and came 
 towards their elders. They presented a 
 striking contrast, one being not only much 
 stouter and taller than her companion, but 
 had a totally different expression of counten- 
 ance. 
 
 "I'm afraid these quiet walks don't suit 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 7 
 
 you, Fanny," said Crisp, somewhat sternly 
 addressing the elder of the two. " You would 
 rather be frolicking and dancing in some of 
 the tea-gardens." 
 
 The girl, who was very beautiful, muttered 
 words that were inaudible to the rest of the 
 party, and tossed her head disdainfully. "What 
 she muttered was evidently not of a very 
 dutiful nature. 
 
 " Don't anger her, William, dear," whis- 
 pered Mrs. Crisp, drawing her husband away 
 from the girl. " I am sure you do Fanny 
 more harm than good when you speak to her 
 so harshly." 
 
 Crisp looked fiercely for a moment — only 
 for a moment — and then drew his wife's arm 
 through his own, and, kissing the puny child 
 nestling on his breast, began to walk home- 
 wards, in company with Salmon and his 
 pleasant-looking wife, whilst the two girls, 
 deserted by Billy and Tommy, who had run 
 off after a dog, followed at some distance in 
 the rear. 
 
8 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 "Father's always angering me with his 
 sneering words !" cried the elder girl, whose 
 face was distorted with passion. "I can't 
 walk out with a young man to keep me com- 
 pany, nor go to a tea-garden to have a dance, 
 nor stay out half-an-hour more than ordinary 
 at night, but he flies out into such a roaring 
 passion." 
 
 " Hush, Fanny ! father will hear you," said 
 Sarah, a delicate-looking girl, who, though 
 not as handsome as the elder girl, had a quiet, 
 subdued face, and the sweet expression that 
 was characteristic of William Crisp in his 
 happier moments, but which in his daughter 
 Sarah was habitual. 
 
 " I don't care if he does," cried Fanny, 
 with a disdainful toss of the head. " I tell 
 you what, Sarah, I won't stand his sneering 
 any longer." 
 
 " For heaven's sake don't let father hear 
 you talking in that strain, or there'll be mis- 
 chief, you may be sure," cried the younger 
 girl. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 9 
 
 " Father, indeed !" retorted Fanny, " he's 
 no father of mine. I tell you, lass, I'll stand 
 no more of his hard words." 
 
 " Don't say so." 
 
 " But I will say so," interrupted the elder 
 girl, in a sharp tone. " I am free to come or 
 go to-morrow, if I like, for any obedience I 
 owe him." 
 
 Sarah looked uneasily towards the elder 
 people, fearing lest these rebellious words 
 should be heard by any other ears than her 
 own; but having assured herself that the 
 distance between them was too great, she 
 began, in her kind, gentle way, to soothe the 
 angry feelings of her half-sister. 
 
 " Father's so anxious just at this time, you 
 know, Fanny," she said in a pleading voice ; 
 " there's nothing but complaints of the state 
 of trade, and that frightens him." 
 
 " But that's no reason why he should snarl 
 at me in the way he does." 
 
 " He's afraid," proceeded Sarah, not no- 
 ticing the interruption, " that the wolf should 
 
 b 5 
 
10 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 come to our door when mother and Jessie are 
 so very poorly. You cannot think what 
 dreadfully low spirits he has sometimes ; and 
 if he does give you a sharp word occa- 
 sionally — " 
 
 " Occasionally I" repeated Fanny, " he's 
 always giving me sharp words, and I am 
 determined to put up with them no longer. 
 Thank God, I can always earn my own bread, 
 without being under obligation to him for it. 
 Miss Thorne would make me forewoman to- 
 morrow, if I'd promise to stay with her." 
 
 " Stay with her I" repeated Sarah, " why 
 surely you've no thought of leaving her." 
 
 " I have, though. There's something else 
 I'm thinking of trying," said Fanny, signi- 
 ficantly. 
 
 " For God's sake, Fanny, mind what you 
 are about," entreated her companion, clutch- 
 ing her arm. " You are very handsome, and 
 many men may fall in love with you for 
 a short time; but depend on it not one 
 that you would think good enough would 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 11 
 
 marry you. Be advised and stay with Miss 
 Thorne." 
 
 "What rubbish you talk, girl!" retorted 
 her companion, snatching her arm away; and 
 laughing and starting off at a pace her less 
 hardy companion could only with difficulty 
 keep up with. " "What would you say, Sarah, 
 if I was to tell you that there is a gentleman 
 — aye, a real gentleman, that would marry me 
 to-morrow, if I would give my consent." 
 
 " The man you have told me about so 
 often, Fanny ?" said Sarah, in a sorrowful 
 tone. 
 
 " Yes, the same. Now what think you ?" 
 she asked. 
 
 " I don't want to think, for I know you 
 will bring nothing but shame and disgrace 
 upon yourself, and sorrow to your mother, if 
 you listen to such lying tales. Mr. Smooth, 
 if that's his name, wants no such wife as you 
 would make him." 
 
 Fanny burst forth into an immoderate fit 
 of boisterous laughter, which rose loud upon 
 
12 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 the still, night air, in spite of Sarah's warn- 
 ing; and the next moment, as if attracted 
 by the sound, a man appeared just in front of 
 them, coming so unexpectedly upon their view 
 that they at first thought he had sprang from 
 the earth. 
 
 Sarah had seen Mr. Smooth once or twice, 
 and she recognised him instantly. Fanny 
 had pointed him out one evening as he saun- 
 tered up the street and past their house, and 
 Sarah had never forgiven the bold staring 
 eyes, determined features, and strong built 
 frame her gaze had rested on. Of what he was, 
 or where he came from, or what was his 
 business in that locality, Fanny professed to 
 be utterly ignorant. 
 
 " A fine evening, ladies,' ' said Mr. Smooth, 
 taking off his hat and exhibiting a luxuriant 
 crop of brown hair, " I consider myself very 
 fortunate in having so unexpectedly met 
 you." 
 
 Fanny smiled and curtseyed, and said they 
 were equally fortunate. Sarah hung down 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 13 
 
 her head to escape his impudent stare, walk- 
 ing on as briskly as she could. 
 
 " This pretty damsel is your sister, I sup- 
 pose, Fanny," said Mr. Smooth, throwing his 
 arm familiarly round Fanny's waist, as she 
 continued to keep pace with Sarah. 
 
 " We call ourselves sisters, but we are not 
 so in reality," said Fanny coolly; "we are 
 only connected by the marriage of my mother 
 with her father." 
 
 " Ah ! connected by marriage. That's one 
 of the things I never could correctly under- 
 stand," said Mr. Smooth, ironically. " Are 
 you in a very great hurry, my dear," addres- 
 sing the younger girl. 
 
 " Have the goodness, Mr. Smooth, to let 
 Sarah alone," interfered Fanny ; " she doesn't 
 like to be talked to in that way, and she shall 
 not be annoyed." 
 
 " Upon my conscience, Fanny," he cried, 
 endeavouring to take hold of Sarah's hand, 
 but before he could guess what was about to 
 happen, Fanny flew at him like a lioness robbed 
 
14 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 of her cubs, and lie was glad to spring out of 
 her reach. He stood laughing, but evidently- 
 half frightened at the violence of her passion. 
 
 " Walk beside me, Sarah, and let any one 
 at his peril dare to annoy you," cried Fanny, 
 in her defiant manner, and as Sarah complied, 
 Fanny turned to Mr. Smooth, and said — 
 
 " If you intend to walk with us, sir, I beg 
 you will not attempt to take liberties whilst 
 Sarah is with us." 
 
 " My beautiful wild cat !" 
 
 " Pshaw ! I detest such ridiculous names. 
 Call me Fanny if you wish me to answer 
 you," said the irate girl, scornfully. 
 
 " But you are in such a towering passion, 
 Fanny." 
 
 " Because I hate to see you playing the 
 fool. Don't you see you have made my sister 
 cry ?" 
 
 " I am very sorry for it." 
 
 " That's a lie ; you never felt sorrow for 
 anything in your life. Don't be afraid, Sarah 
 lass, he daren't harm you. See, father's 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 15 
 
 looking back. Mr. Smooth, you must leave 
 us," she said, in a very peremptory tone. 
 " I won't budge an inch, Fanny." 
 " Then I'm sorry for you, for this is the 
 last time you will have the pleasure of my 
 company. If you stay here I shall catch a 
 pretty blowing up, and then I shall get into a 
 more furious passion with you, and I won't 
 answer for the consequence. How long do 
 you mean to take to make up your mind ? Will 
 you go ?" 
 
 " I imagine I must, Fanny," said Mr. 
 Smooth, ruefully. " I shall see you to-morrow, 
 I suppose ?" 
 
 "Perhaps you may; there, good-night." 
 Without another word she heard him spring 
 into the wood, and then with a bold step 
 she hurried to join the party in front. 
 
 William Crisp had, apparently, not noticed 
 the young man, for he made no observation 
 on the circumstance when the girls reached 
 his side. Sarah felt great relief in conse- 
 quence. Presently they gained the brow of 
 
16 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 the hill they had for some time been ascend- 
 ing slowly, and the whole party drew up to 
 recover breath, and to take a peep at the 
 view obtained from the summit. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 17 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A pretty village lay nestling on the side of a 
 hill. This was the village of Braidsworth, 
 where the Crisps and the Salmons resided. 
 The eye first took in a row of workmen's 
 houses, which had nothing very pleasing to 
 recommend them. At the end of this row stood 
 Braidsworth Foundry, with its black, grimy 
 chimney and smoked cupolas ; and beyond this 
 might be seen Braidsworth Church with its ivy 
 covered tower and solemn looking yew trees. 
 Still further away stood the Rectory house, the 
 only really picturesque edifice in the village, 
 and which, standing in its old-fashioned gar- 
 dens, and backed by some fine trees, the 
 
18 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 growth of years, helped to make a charming 
 picture, aided, as it was, by masses of creep- 
 ing plants of various kinds climbing nearly 
 to the roof. 
 
 Braidsworth had, in former years, been a 
 more flourishing village than it was at the 
 period at which we write ; for, like many other 
 places in Yorkshire, competing villages had 
 sprung up around it, and materially interfered 
 with its trade ; but these new places could 
 not rob it of its picturesque Rectory with its 
 gabled ends, numerous windows, and curious 
 chimneys, nor of its Rector, one of the best 
 of parsons, as well as one of the kindest- 
 hearted gentlemen in Yorkshire. 
 
 On the other side the workmen's houses 
 was a bridle path, which led alongside a wood 
 to a house standing apart from any other. 
 Completely the reverse of the Rectory it was as 
 plain and unpretending as the latter was quaint 
 and picturesque. It was a square, brick 
 building, with stone copings to the door, and 
 windows of unusual size, showing that the 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 19 
 
 architect had cared more for utility than ele- 
 gance in the structure. But the unpretending 
 appearance of the building was atoned for by 
 the large garden that surrounded it, which 
 showed evidence of having been laid out with 
 the most masterly skill and taste. 
 
 At one end of the house was a conservatory 
 of ample dimensions. 
 
 " I must speak with Mr. Gladstone to- 
 night, Mary," said William Crisp. " Perhaps, 
 Henry," addressing his brother-in-law, "you 
 and Bess will be kind enough to see the wife 
 and bairns safe home, whilst I step up to ' The 
 Rookery.' Jessie, dear, you'll let Uncle Sal- 
 mon carry you home." 
 
 " You won't be long, William ?" said Mrs. 
 Crisp, as her husband was leaving her. 
 
 " Not above half-an-hour, I expect. Sarah," 
 he continued, addressing his daughter, "go 
 round by the doctor's for your mother's 
 medicine." And then speaking to his wife, 
 " Get out of the night air, Mary, as quickly 
 as you can." 
 
20 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 And, with this parting injunction, William 
 Crisp wended his way towards ' The Rookery.' 
 
 By the time Crisp got into the bridle path, 
 the trees in the wood we have mentioned made 
 the place dark as he walked through it. A 
 small pasture divided the path from the house 
 to which he was going, and in this pasture, 
 seated upon a stile, he found the person he 
 was in search of. 
 
 " Is that you, Crisp ?" asked a young man 
 apparently not more than twenty- eight or 
 nine. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Gladstone," replied Crisp. " It 
 is so dark that I almost stumbled upon you 
 without seeing you. I thought I'd come up 
 to ' The Rookery,' and hear if you wanted 
 anything." 
 
 "Want anything," said Mr. Gladstone, 
 with an odd sort of laugh, " we want many 
 things, William ; we want work for one thino- 
 — money for another — we want, too, the heart 
 to set about things, when it is so difficult to 
 say whether they'll do us good or harm." 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 21 
 
 " That's true, Mr. William," said Crisp, 
 solemnly. 
 
 " Yes, and the way things are going is 
 enough to crush the heart out of any man, 
 William." 
 
 " Indeed it is, sir," said Crisp, " but please 
 God, matters will take a turn ere long." 
 
 " I wish you may prove a true prophet," 
 rejoined Mr. Gladstone. "You must send 
 those castings to Halifax." 
 
 " I will see them sent off the first thing in 
 the morning. Anything else, sir ?" 
 
 " Not that I recollect." 
 
 " I'm told, sir, that Philips and Young are 
 going to put their hands on half-time next 
 week." 
 
 " So Mr. Jobson informed me this morning, 
 when we met at Halifax. I am sorry for it, 
 but what can the masters do, Crisp. Only 
 consider for a moment what enormous sums 
 of money are lying dead in their mills and 
 foundries. It is impossible for them to go on 
 paying men full wages for doing half work." 
 
22 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " That's true, sir," said Crisp, in a very 
 grave tone. 
 
 " We should one and all be ruined before 
 we knew what we were about," rejoined Mr. 
 Gladstone. 
 
 " No doubt you would, sir, and unfortu- 
 nately the ruin of the masters will not tend 
 to lessen the privations and distress of the 
 workmen, but add greatly to the discomfort 
 and misery of their homes in the coming 
 winter." 
 
 " That is quite certain, but what can be 
 done ?" 
 
 "I think Government ought to do something 
 for the workmen." 
 
 " How ?" demanded Mr. Gladstone, some- 
 what sharply. 
 
 Crisp was unable to suggest a plan, and 
 said — 
 
 " All I know is, that there's a vast amount 
 of suffering amongst the working classes, and 
 I cannot help saying that I think the Govern- 
 ment is answerable for it." 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 23 
 
 Mr. Gladstone smiled at Crisp's crude 
 notions of a Government feeding the thou- 
 sands of workers. 
 
 " Why, William, if your views were adopted 
 by the Government, the whole nation would 
 sooner or later be bankrupt. No, no, such 
 misfortunes must work their own cure." 
 
 " But Government takes precious good care, 
 sir, that whether it finds us work or not, it 
 won't give us cheap bread, nor cheap tea. 
 Why, Mr. Gladstone, you know that not very 
 long since, wheat was up to a guinea a bushel, 
 and if work had been scarce then, why there 
 would have been a famine more awful than 
 that we read of in the Bible." 
 
 " Then you would abolish the corn laws, 
 William ?" said Mr. Gladstone, with some 
 little interest. 
 
 " That I would, sir, and every other law 
 that presses upon the industry of the people. 
 It makes one's blood boil to think how we 
 are ground down and plundered to enrich 
 those above us. Only look at the price of 
 
24 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 corn at this very moment, sixty-eight shillings 
 a quarter, and wages from twelve to fourteen 
 shillings a week, and in some cases eight or 
 nine mouths to feed. Oh ! Mr. Gladstone, 
 it's enough to drive one mad." 
 
 " Have patience, William." 
 
 " Patience, sir ; you might as well desire 
 the lightning and thunder to cease in the 
 midst of a tempest, as to tell us to have 
 patience, when such bad prospects are staring 
 us in the face. I only wish I was king of 
 England for a month, I'd make the working 
 men, aye, and their wives and bairns too, 
 bless that month's rule." 
 
 Mr. Gladstone leaped off the stile, and 
 walked towards his house. When he emerged 
 into the fading daylight you saw that he had 
 a lithe, active figure, was a trifle above the 
 medium height, had a countenance full of 
 intelligence, and features with some preten- 
 sions to manly beauty. He had dark hair, 
 a complexion somewhat bronzed, and when 
 he spoke, his tone was decisive, and gave the 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 25 
 
 notion that he was in the habit of carrying 
 ont his resolutions with promptness. 
 
 Mr. Gladstone was the master of the 
 foundry, and owner of the plain-looking 
 house we have described. William Crisp was 
 his foreman, and a rather privileged person, 
 having been employed from boyhood in Mr. 
 Gladstone's family. Mr. Gladstone's father 
 had only been dead about four years. 
 
 Apparently he did not wish to continue the 
 discussion that Crisp had introduced, for he 
 commenced talking about the Trades Union. 
 During the previous winter large numbers of 
 men had held meetings, in various parts of 
 Yorkshire and Lancashire, to discuss their 
 grievances, and to try and suggest a remedy 
 for the disadvantages under which they la- 
 boured. The Government endeavoured to 
 awe these suffering creatures into subjection, 
 and in Manchester and other places the mili- 
 tary were called out, the people fired upon, 
 and several killed. 
 
 Thus thwarted in their attempts to assemble 
 vol. I. c 
 
26 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 in the open air for the purpose of discussing 
 their grievances, the boldest of them formed 
 themselves into Unions, and engaged mission- 
 aries to gain converts to their theories. The 
 masters, as a body, were opposed to these 
 Unions, which in the eye of the law were 
 illegal, and, as the law at that day was not so 
 amenable to public opinion as it is at the 
 present time, the Legislature was prepared to 
 put down the lurking treason, as they chose 
 to term it, with a high hand. 
 
 Mr. Gladstone had been the most active and 
 determined opposer of the Unionists. He had 
 pointed out ably, calmly and plainly to the 
 workmen the mischievous tendency of the 
 Unionists in meddling with the existing rela- 
 tions between the employer and the employed ; 
 and he had been equally active in organising 
 a powerful opposition amongst the masters. 
 Bold and daring himself, he had given courage 
 to the cowardly, and decision to the waver- 
 ing ; and though probably the youngest 
 manufacturer in the district, he had been 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 27 
 
 tacitly placed at the head of the counter- 
 movement that had sprung up as a check to 
 the Republicanism with which the country was 
 threatened. 
 
 "Do you know, Crisp," he asked abruptly, 
 " when and where the next meeting of the 
 Unionists will take place?'' 
 
 " I do not," replied Crisp, " but I shall 
 have no difficulty in ascertaining, as I know 
 one young man who is unfortunately con- 
 nected with the movement — " here he sud- 
 denly stopped short, fearing his master might 
 ask the name. 
 
 Mr. Gladstone did not care to ask. He 
 preferred to cope with the corruption of the 
 mass than the sickness of the individual, and 
 he walked on up the pasture asking numerous 
 questions, some of which Crisp could answer, 
 but others which he could not. 
 
 " Come in, Crisp, and get something to 
 eat," he said, kindly, as they stood for a 
 minute at the garden gate ; " it's a good step 
 to your house." 
 
 c 2 
 
28 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Gladstone ; I must not 
 stay to-night," said Crisp. " I've promised 
 my wife to get home as quickly as possible, 
 for, as you know, sir, she's very delicate, and 
 was complaining of weariness when I parted 
 from her." 
 
 " Then you won't come in ?" 
 
 " Not to-night, thank you, sir." 
 
 " Then I'll say good-night. Look after the 
 things that are to be sent off in the morning," 
 and Mr. Gladstone opened the gate and 
 walked leisurely up the path. 
 
 The dewy night air was sweet with the per- 
 fume of mignionette, musk, and sweet-briar ; 
 so rich that it made him feel heart-sick, as, 
 whilst inhaling it, he thought of the conversa- 
 tion that had passed between his foreman and 
 himself, during their walk towards the house. 
 
 " How calm and beautiful the night is," he 
 murmured ; " and the perfumes — how de- 
 licious. Nature seems to mock the constant 
 care, and the weary turmoil in which man is 
 doomed to live — and — these are dangerous 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 29 
 
 fancies to indulge in, so I will go in and see 
 if a little society will drive c dull care away ' 
 for a few hours," and without further heeding 
 the odorous treasures that lay around him, he 
 walked on towards the house. 
 
30 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Mr. Gladstone entered his house through a 
 half-glazed door into a passage that was 
 rather dark just at that hour, for his house- 
 keeper was a thrifty woman, and had a disin- 
 clination to the use of oil in the passage 
 during the summer and autumn ; indeed, she 
 considered it " a shameful piece of extrava- 
 gance. " Her master, therefore, had to wend 
 his way in the best manner he could, and had 
 a little difficulty in reaching the door of the 
 room which the ladies of the house usually 
 occupied during the evening. There, at least, 
 old Hannah's thrift was vanquished by a su- 
 perior power, for as he opened the door, a 
 
THE GLADSTONES, 31 
 
 bright blaze of light rushed out upon him, 
 together with the hum of several voices. 
 
 The party was a merry one, consisting of 
 two gentlemen and three ladies, all of whom 
 were seated or standing in various parts of 
 the room. The deep sonorous voice of a 
 middle-aged, portly gentleman was predomi- 
 nant. You saw at a glance that he was the 
 parish clergyman, not so much by his black 
 coat and white cravat as by the suavity and 
 good breeding that characterised his manner. 
 It was Dr. Yinen, the Rector of Braidsworth. 
 
 Sitting opposite the Hector was one of the 
 sweetest creatures you could possibly imagine. 
 A face of perfect beauty — in which the bloom 
 of the peach and the clearness of the lily 
 seemed striving for mastery — was lighted up 
 with a smile of artless happiness as she 
 carried on a running fire of words with the 
 Rector. In person she was petite. Yery few 
 could see Kate Gladstone without loving her. 
 
 Miss Gladstone, whose Christian name was 
 Sophia, sat apart from the rest, on a couch 
 
32 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 constructed by her brother, by whose me- 
 chanical skill it had been devised, to obviate 
 the recumbent posture she had been compelled 
 to assume, owing to an accident she had met 
 with some years before. Like Kate, she was 
 diminutive, but had not her beauty ; on the 
 contrary she was very plain. Her intelligent 
 countenance, however, made people forget her 
 plainness. Her age was about thirty-four, or 
 perhaps a year or two more — gallantry forbids 
 our being over particular on this point. Near 
 the couch stood Frances, who was tall, and 
 few would have imagined that she was the 
 youngest of the family, but such was actually 
 the case. She was much more sedate and 
 generally more grave than the volatile Kate, 
 and three years her junior. At the first glance 
 you would have said she was like her brother, 
 with the sterner lineaments of his face softened 
 down into the placid calmness that usually 
 characterised her. Upon looking at her a 
 second time a great difference between them 
 was apparent. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 33 
 
 William, with all his good looks, had much 
 sternness in the sharp, decisive lines of his 
 face, and the eye had a slumbering fire in it 
 that Frances's soft grey orbs wanted. No one 
 could spend a couple of hours in William 
 Gladstone's company without being assured 
 that he would prove a dangerous man to 
 meddle with, and respected him accordingly. 
 
 Frances could not be called handsome, and 
 yet there was that indefinable something in 
 her countenance which, to many people, is 
 more attractive than actual beauty. Her 
 figure was good, nay, graceful, and as she 
 stood with one foot on the fender she dis- 
 played an ankle that a sculptor would have 
 been glad to take as a model. What Kate 
 was deficient in Frances possessed — a soul 
 looking out of her calm grey eyes, which more 
 than compensated for the absence of that 
 radiant beauty with which her sister was so 
 largely endowed. 
 
 The person who was standing near Kate 
 
 o 5 
 
34 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 was a handsome young fellow named William 
 Wilding, a gentleman possessing a good estate 
 and plenty of leisure time on his hands, which 
 latter he got over by loving alternately Kate 
 and Frances, as the humour suited him. Kate, 
 however, was the most favoured, and we may 
 as well at once call him her lover. 
 
 There was a vast difference between the in- 
 terior and exterior of " The Rookery." We 
 have described the exterior. The room which 
 William Gladstone entered was large and 
 handsome, and furnished with a decree of 
 elegance and comfort that would have scarcely 
 been expected from the Quaker-like appear- 
 ance of the outside. At the end of the room 
 was a kind of boudoir — a thing scarcely known 
 in England at the time — containing a pro- 
 fusion of plants, altogether forming a small 
 conservatory, expressly built for Sophia Glad- 
 stone, to amuse her during her many hours of 
 confinement. 
 
 " Where have you been, William ?" asked 
 Kate, who was always ready to tease her 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 35 
 
 brother. " Dr. Yinen and Mr. "Wilding have 
 been waiting to see you an hour or more." 
 
 " We have scarcely been here so long, Miss 
 Kate," said the Rector. 
 
 " I think you have, Doctor. At any rate, 
 it's too bad of William to keep tea waiting." 
 
 " It would scarcely repay your curiosity, 
 Kate, if I were to tell you," said her brother, 
 taking a seat. " William Crisp came up from 
 the village to speak to me." 
 
 He felt conscious that Frances's face was 
 turned towards him as he spoke, although he 
 could not see her, and that Dr. Yinen looked 
 grave in a moment, although a minute before 
 a smile had been visible on his fresh coloured 
 face. 
 
 " I hope he brought you no bad news, 
 brother," said Frances, calmly. 
 
 " Things seem so completely disjointed that 
 I scarcely know what is good news and what 
 is bad," said the manufacturer, gravely. " I 
 think we shall soon see all the workmen in 
 this part of England put on half time." 
 
36 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " I am grieved to hear that," observed Dr. 
 Vinen. " It was predicted that the termina- 
 tion of the war wonld greatly improve trade 
 instead of causing depression." 
 
 " That was the general feeling, and I con- 
 fess it was my impression," was William's 
 bitter response. 
 
 " "Why did it not do so ?" demanded Kate. 
 
 Her brother smiled at the simplicity of the 
 question, and answered by saying — 
 
 " I can only reply by stating a fact, that 
 there are some laws which go by no rule at 
 all, and that the laws that regulate trade are 
 of this class. It very often happens that 
 commercial events disappoint the expectations 
 of the most experienced." 
 
 Kate looked puzzled, but did not seek for 
 further enlightenment. 
 
 " I fear we shall see a great deal of suffer- 
 ing among the working jDeople ere long," ob- 
 served Miss Gladstone. 
 
 " Let us hope things will take a turn," said 
 Dr. Yinen. " Don't you think we are making 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 37 
 
 ourselves sad to very little purpose ? Kate, 
 my dear, suppose you enliven us with some 
 music." 
 
 Kate at once seated herself at the piano, 
 saying to Dr. Yinen — 
 
 " What shall I play ?" 
 
 " Something spirited," rejoined the Rector. 
 
 " 6 Drops of Brandy,' " laughed Kate. 
 
 " Or c Begone dull care,' " added the Rector. 
 
 " Play ' Logie O'Buchan,' " said Wilding. 
 
 Kate made no response, but commenced 
 playing, and when she finished looked round 
 for the customary applause. 
 
 "You played out of time, Kate," cried her 
 brother from the other end of the room. 
 
 Kate bit her lip, and tried not to look 
 annoyed, as she said, pettishly — 
 
 " You always find fault with my playing, 
 William." 
 
 " When you play incorrectly — never other- 
 wise," her brother answered, with provoking 
 dryness. " Frances, ring for supper." 
 
 Frances rang the bell, and a very quaint- 
 
38 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 looking servant made her appearance. Her 
 name was Hannah Newman. She had lived 
 in the Gladstone family from her girlhood, 
 and she was now a clumsy, sour-looking wo- 
 man of forty-nine, and treated the " bairns," 
 as she called the Misses Gladstone, with a free- 
 dom that is rarely met with out of the York- 
 shire dales, and would have behaved in the 
 same way to her master had she not stood in 
 great fear of his stern, silent manner. At 
 heart, however, she was as faithful a creature 
 as could be desired, and would have died to 
 have averted from any of them a moment's 
 pain. 
 
 " Is it supper you want, Miss Frances ?" 
 she asked, in her rough and ready sort of 
 way. 
 
 " If you please, Hannah," was the reply. 
 Hannah, without another word, commenced 
 putting a snow-white cloth on the table, 
 which she had taken from a sideboard drawer, 
 and then left the room for the purpose of 
 bringing in a tray, on which was a cold fowl, 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 39 
 
 a sirloin of beef, and a large loaf. Knives 
 and forks were then placed on the table with 
 clumsy carelessness that made Dr. Yinen, 
 as it always did, smile. These preliminaries 
 being accomplished, Hannah again left the 
 room, and in a couple of minutes returned 
 with a tray of tarts and custards, for which 
 latter she had gained considerable reputation 
 by all visitors to ' The Rookery.' She looked 
 much pleasanter as she placed these opposite 
 the cold sirloin, and glanced over to Dr. 
 Yinen, who smiled his approbation. 
 
 " That's a standing dish of yours, Mrs. 
 Hannah ?" he said in his pleasant voice, as he 
 noticed the look. 
 
 "It is, sir, and sorry I am I can't teach 
 that muddle-headed cook of yours how to 
 make them," she said, dropping a curtsey. 
 " She's only a poor weak body, Dr. Yinen." 
 
 " Oh ! she'll do well enough ; it's not every 
 one that's so great an epicure as Mr. 
 Gladstone." 
 
 " He ! — he never knows what he eats," 
 
40 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 cried Hannah, with a grim smile, " Mr. 
 William wouldn't know mutton broth from 
 mockturtle." 
 
 " For shame, Hannah !" said her master, 
 laughing, " how dare you give me such a 
 character. " 
 
 " Why, sir, you know you never can tell 
 the difference between a chop and a steak, 
 and you're always calling out for mustard to 
 veal," she said, maliciously. " You know you 
 do, Mr. "William." 
 
 " Oh ! the Gladstones all eat mustard with 
 everything?" said her master. 
 
 " None but yourself does that, Mr. 
 William ; come, your supper is waiting," and 
 she stuck herself behind Mr. Gladstone's 
 chair, to hand the plates. 
 
 Dr. Yinen said grace, an old fashioned 
 ceremony he never omitted, and the repast 
 commenced. Hannah filled the glasses with 
 ale, not condescending to ask if water was 
 preferred, in fact, she knew what everybody 
 drank, and did not see the use of being extra 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 41 
 
 polite, even to the Rector. When the meat had 
 been taken away she placed the custard and 
 tarts before Frances Gladstone, and then 
 walked out of the room as sturdily as she had 
 entered. 
 
 " Have you heard that there have been 
 several cases of fever in Braids worth ?" asked 
 William, addressing Dr. Yinen, after a pause. 
 
 " The doctor told me so, when he called on 
 Monday," was the Rector's reply. " I am 
 very sorry to hear it." 
 
 "So am I ; with work getting more scarce 
 every day, and many people already out of 
 employment." 
 
 " It's very sad," said the clergyman. 
 
 " And still more appalling to hear of a 
 dreadful malady making its appearance." 
 
 " Is the fever of a malignant nature ?" 
 asked Frances. 
 
 " Yes ; I believe it's of a very malignant 
 kind." 
 
 The whole party looked grave, for each 
 recollected the last visit of that frightful 
 
42 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 scourge to Braidsworth, which carried off 
 nearly a third of the population of the village. 
 
 " I hope the fever will not come here," said 
 Kate, in a low, tremulous voice. 
 
 " The weather is not in our favour," 
 observed Mr. Wilding, " the heat is so 
 oppressive." 
 
 " No doubt of that," replied Mr. Gladstone. 
 " I think, doctor," he continued, addressing 
 the clergyman, " some preliminary steps 
 should be instantly taken to drive back the 
 relentless foe. Many of the workmen's 
 houses, even in Braidsworth, are exceedingly 
 dirty, and require a thorough routing out." 
 
 " How would you proceed ?" asked Dr. 
 Yinen. 
 
 " In the first place, a committee should be 
 formed to look into sanitary matters, and see 
 that every habitable place in the parish is well 
 scoured and whitewashed, without the slightest 
 delay. Smith and I can go with you and 
 order it to be done." 
 
 Smith was the village doctor. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 43 
 
 " That is the plan they are pursuing in 
 Bradford, I believe, and I don't think we can 
 do better than follow the example." 
 
 " There are plenty of dirty houses in 
 Br aids worth," said Frances, " and I don't 
 know how it happens that some of the most 
 charming places in this neighbourhood are the 
 most unhealthy." 
 
 " Which of the places in particular do you 
 allude to, Frances ?" asked her brother. 
 
 " Newman's cottage, for instance ; I never 
 pass the spot without being charmed with the 
 quaint old gables peeping out from the mass 
 of verdure that surrounds it. A month ago, 
 when many of the trees were in blossom, and 
 the air was scented from the flowers, New- 
 man's children were all ill." 
 
 " The place is very damp," said her bro- 
 ther. 
 
 " Why should it be damp ?" pursued 
 Frances. 
 
 " The fruit and other trees make it so. If 
 
44 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 I were a doctor I would protest against hav- 
 ing fruit trees, or any other trees, so near a 
 house as they are at Newman's. Depend on 
 it, it's a great mistake." 
 
 " And then, there's that pretty place called 
 c The Lees,' " said Frances, turning her eager 
 glance at the clergyman. " It is built on the 
 side of a hill, with a running stream in front, 
 and surrounded by woods, that give it a 
 sylvan beauty that would charm a poet or a 
 landscape painter. Poor Mrs. Druce declares 
 that the moment the cold weather sets in she 
 has the ague." 
 
 " You must be put on the committee, 
 Frances," said Dr. Yinen, with a smile. 
 
 "Nothing I should like better," replied 
 Frances, laughing. 
 
 " What would the churchwarden and over- 
 seer say to such aji innovation ?" asked her 
 brother. 
 
 " Say," continued Frances, cheerfully ; 
 " that Mrs. Yinen, Hannah, and I would do 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 45 
 
 much more good than you, Mr. William 
 Gladstone, with Dr. Yinen, the churchwarden 
 and overseer to back you." 
 
 " Well, Miss Frances, time flies ; and to- 
 morrow I will see you, to talk the matter 
 over," said the clergyman, looking at his 
 watch. "It's getting very late. I believe, 
 Wilding, your road is past the Rectory." 
 
 He arose and took Miss Gladstone's hand 
 kindly in his own, as he said, in a tone of 
 peculiar gentleness, " Good night, my dear 
 Sophia." 
 
 " Tell Mrs. Yinen to come and see me to- 
 morrow," said the invalid. 
 
 "I will;" and he followed Kate and her 
 brother and Mr. Wilding out of the room. 
 
 The night was remarkably fine, and the 
 moon was shining brightly ; the air was rich 
 with the perfume from the fields, mingled with 
 the flowery odours from Frances's garden, 
 and the party instinctively paused in the 
 porch to enjoy it. 
 
 " How delicious the air is," sighed Kate, as 
 
46 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 she hung on Wilding's arm. " It must have 
 been just such a night as this when Titania 
 fell so desperately in love with poor Bottom, 
 the weaver." 
 
 ""What a silly speech," returned Wilding, 
 laughing. 
 
 " It almost makes me feel too happy," con- 
 tinued Kate, not heeding the remark, and 
 prattling away as merrily as a child, " and 
 yet, somehow the feeling is by no means free 
 from pain." 
 
 She plucked half-a-dozen roses from a bush 
 near which she was standing. 
 
 " For whom are you getting those lovely 
 roses ?" asked Wilding. 
 
 " For Dr. Yinen, if he will do me the honour 
 of accepting them," she replied, smiling, and 
 presenting the flowers to the clergyman. 
 
 " I accept them with pleasure," said the 
 doctor, taking the flowers from Kate, " and 
 shall put them under my pillow." 
 
 " And dream of — " 
 
 " Kate Gladstone," interrupted the clergy- 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 47 
 
 man, bowing gallantly, and shaking hands 
 with her, as he bade her ' good night.' 
 
 Mr. Gladstone had retreated into the porch, 
 and was watching Kate, who, having bade 
 the two gentlemen good night, now turned 
 round, and was looking up at the house with 
 an intentness that was not usual with her. 
 The moonlight had softened its plainness, 
 and, as she gazed she caught, by accident, a 
 glimpse of her brother's dark figure, with his 
 head drooped upon his breast. 
 
 With all the timidity of a child, she moved 
 cautiously towards him, slipped her arm in 
 his, and looked up imploringly in his face. 
 
 "What is the matter, Kate?" he asked, 
 looking down on the almost frightened face 
 she held up to him. 
 
 " You seem so very sad, William," she said, 
 artlessly, as he led her up the walk. 
 
 As they approached the gate, Kate saw 
 Frances, and exclaimed — 
 
 " What, in the name of fortune, are you 
 doing here, Frances, all by yourself?" 
 
48 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " Hush," said Frances, in a low voice. " I 
 thought I heard some one coming down the 
 footpath." 
 
 " That would not be very surprising," said 
 her brother, " as the path is a public one ; 
 and it's just the sort of night for a couple of 
 lovers to take a stroll. For — 
 
 " ' When should lovers breathe their vows, 
 When should ladies hear them ? 
 When the dew is on the houghs, 
 When none else is near them. 
 
 When the moon shines cold and pale, 
 
 When the birds are sleeping ; 
 When no voice is in the gale, 
 
 When the rose is weeping.' " 
 
 " I cannot promise to do what you wish, 
 Mr. Smooth," said a voice that Frances knew 
 very well, in a somewhat loud key ; although 
 the people, whoever they were, were some dis- 
 tance off. 
 
 " Why not ?" 
 
 " Because father is always snubbing me for 
 being out late at night, and I've almost deter- 
 mined to have done with it." 
 
 " Hush ! you silly goose," said her com- 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 49 
 
 pardon, in a somewhat lower tone, " you have 
 promised over and over to take the trip some 
 day." 
 
 " Pooh ! I tell you again, Mr. Smooth, I 
 won't," exclaimed the girl, in an apparently 
 frightened manner. "What do you think 
 father and mother will say when they hear 
 I've gone off in that way ?" 
 
 " Crisp is not your father, Fanny," said the 
 man, as the speakers came close beside the 
 hedge where Mr. Gladstone and his sisters 
 were standing. 
 
 " No matter for that. I owe him more 
 than ever I am likely to repay, for the food 
 and care he took of me through my childhood; 
 and, bad as I am, I'll not bring him to shame 
 now." As they walked rapidly on, the 
 conversation became too indistinct to be 
 intelligible, and in a minute or two they were 
 quite out of hearing. 
 
 " I must warn Crisp of that scoundrel's 
 machinations," said Mr. Gladstone, after a 
 pause. " I more than suspect he is one of 
 
 VOL. i. d 
 
50 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 the principal movers in those accursed trade- 
 unions, and I'm more than certain he intends 
 ruin to that poor girl." 
 
 " That's likely enough," said Frances, as 
 they walked up the garden again. " I will 
 talk to Fanny myself when I find an oppor- 
 tunity." 
 
 And they joined Sophia in her sitting-room 
 again. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 51 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 When William Crisp arrived at home, after 
 his interview with Mr. Gladstone, he found 
 his daughter Sarah alone, sitting up for him. 
 
 " Where's thy mother, lass ?" he asked, 
 abruptly, on noticing his wife's empty chair. 
 "It's not very late ; it only struck ten by the 
 foundry clock as I passed." 
 
 "Mother complained of being only middling, 
 and has been a-bed an hour or more, father," 
 said Sarah, sadly. 
 
 " More's the pity, Sarah, lass," rejoined 
 her father, " and is Fanny a-bed too ?" 
 
 Sarah affected to be too much engaged to 
 hear the latter question. 
 
 D 2 
 
52 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " Don't you hear what I say, Sarah ?" de- 
 manded Crisp, gruffly. "Where is Fanny?" 
 
 " She's not come in yet," said Sarah, 
 tremblingly. 
 
 " I'll tell thee what, girl," continued her 
 father, flinging his hat upon the table, and 
 sitting down in his wife's chair, " these going 
 out o' nights do a young girl much harm, and 
 it's what I won't allow anyone residing under 
 my roof to do. Fanny, I'm very much af eard, 
 is coming to no good." 
 
 " Oh, father !" 
 
 " I feel morally certain she's taking a 
 crooked path," said Crisp, with considerable 
 sternness. " She will end by becoming a 
 common street-walker. If she does, she shall 
 never enter my house again !" 
 
 " Perhaps Miss Thorne may have detained 
 her," suggested Sarah, although she did not 
 think so. 
 
 " I'll set that question at rest," cried her 
 father. "I'll go to Miss Thome's in the 
 morning, and ask her if Fanny ever works 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 53 
 
 there till this hour, and if she doesn't I'll 
 make the girl turn over a new leaf, or out of 
 my house she shall go ; ( one scabbed sheep 
 taints a whole flock !' " 
 
 " But Fanny is so much confined all day, 
 father, and the nights just now are so plea- 
 sant," pleaded Sarah, who was quite frightened 
 at her father's wrathful temper. 
 
 " I don't care, Sarah, for that ; you never 
 want to go out in the way she does, and 
 thou'rt closer kept during the day." 
 
 " I cannot leave mother, or I should like a 
 walk, father," said Sarah. 
 
 " And thou shalt have one, lass, if thou'lt 
 only wait a bit," said Crisp, patting her pale 
 cheek. " But you must tell Fanny as soon 
 as she comes in, that I will not suffer her to 
 be out o' nights at this late hour. Is your 
 mother asleep ?" 
 
 " I think she is." 
 
 " Then I'll go quietly up- stairs, so that I 
 may not disturb her," said Crisp, rising. 
 " Don't forget to tell Fanny what I have said, 
 
54 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 lass. Good night, and God bless thee, my 
 dear I" and he took her delicate face in his 
 rough hands, and kissed her forehead. 
 
 Sarah watched him go up the creaking 
 stairs, and enter his little bedroom. As soon 
 as she heard the bedroom door closed, she 
 burst out into a violent fit of crying. Not- 
 withstanding Fanny's bold manners and 
 evident lo^e of flattery, Sarah thought she 
 was free from vice, and was not a little 
 shocked when she heard her father judge her 
 so harshly. Her father's determination, too, 
 she reflected, in her good nature, was not 
 kind. Then she thought of Fanny's high 
 spirit and resolute will, and could not help 
 fearing that, when told of her father's deter- 
 mination, she would be driven to do some- 
 thing either very rash or very sinful. 
 
 Whilst she was thus crying and thinking, 
 the door opened, and Fanny came stealthily 
 into the room, but not till she had seen that 
 her step-father was not there. 
 
 Sarah looked up, and saw at a glance that 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 55 
 
 Fanny's face was very ranch flushed, and that 
 her eyes were very red as if she had recently 
 been crying. 
 
 " Yon are very late, Fanny," she said, 
 making a considerable effort for composure. 
 " Father's been in a bitter passion since he 
 came home." 
 
 " What about ?" 
 
 " About you." 
 
 Fanny looked at her, but did not speak. 
 
 The scorn which Sarah saw on Fanny's 
 face gave the timid girl courage to continue. 
 
 " He doesn't approve of your keeping out 
 so late at night. He desired me to tell you 
 that you must come home earlier in the 
 future." 
 
 " Did he ?" exclaimed Fanny, with a satirical 
 smile. "Why, lass, you don't know what 
 thou'rt talking about. Young girls like me 
 must have a little fresh air, after working so 
 many hours all day at the needle, as I do." 
 
 " Father doesn't object to that, Fanny," 
 said Sarah, boldly. 
 
56 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " Then, pray, lass, what does he object to ?"' 
 
 " To your staying out till this time o' the 
 night." 
 
 " Well, then, I won't do it again," returned 
 Fanny, who had turned round, and was 
 gazing abstractedly into the fire. 
 
 " That's right," said Sarah, much pleased. 
 
 " Are you ready for bed ?' asked Fanny. 
 
 " Not quite. I've got this hole in Tommy's 
 sock to mend ; poor little fellow, I wish I had 
 time to knit him a new pair. P'raps you'll 
 rub up the table a bit whilst I work." 
 
 " Why don't you knit the bairn new socks ? 
 you've nothing to hinder you," said Fanny ; 
 " you've plenty of time now." 
 
 " Not much of that ; I've everything to do, 
 or nearly so, since mother has become so ill 
 and weak." 
 
 Fanny, instead of assisting by rubbing the 
 table, coolly sat down in a chair before the 
 fire, and allowed Sarah to do all the work, so 
 that it was nearly twelve o'clock before they 
 crept noiselessly upstairs to their bedroom. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 57 
 
 Fanny, whilst the operation of undressing- 
 was going on, looked scornfully around her at 
 the poor accommodation they had in the nar- 
 row room, and more than once caught herself 
 sigrhinof for the fine mirrors and luxurious 
 carpets which the companion she had so re- 
 cently left had often told her that a girl 
 possessing so much beauty richly deserved. 
 
 " How would you like to be rich, Sarah ?" 
 she abruptly asked, as she sat curling her 
 luxuriant hair before a small glass. 
 
 " I'm quite content, Fanny, as I am," re- 
 plied Sarah, meekly. " If I had to be rich 
 perhaps I should be separated from father and 
 mother, as well as the bairns, and I couldn't 
 bear that. Why did you ask ?" 
 
 " For no reason whatever," rejoined Fanny, 
 laughing ; " only a gipsy once told me I should 
 be rich, and I was wondering if it would ever 
 come to pass." 
 
 " Don't indulge in such lofty notions, 
 Fanny, if you value your peace of mind," 
 said Sarah, seriously. " Father says many 
 
 D 5 
 
58 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 bonny lasses have had her happiness wrecked 
 by the fortune telling gipsies putting such 
 vain notions into their weak heads." 
 
 Fanny's lip curled contemptuously at the 
 idea of William Crisp haying seen enough of 
 the world to enable him to make such a dis- 
 covery ; and she mentally made a comparison 
 between him and Mr. Smooth, who had often 
 told her what a sensation her beauty would 
 create if she would accompany him to 
 London. 
 
 " Well," she said, as she put aside the glass, 
 " time will prove if the gipsy was right. At 
 any rate I'm very tired of this sort of life, 
 and intend looking out for a better." 
 
 Sarah was too tired to hear much of what 
 she said, and by the time Fanny had put out 
 the light was fast asleep, with her innocent 
 head resting on her right arm. 
 
 Fanny's rest, however, was neither so sound 
 nor so sweet, for ambitious desires after 
 visionary grandeur racked her mind, and con- 
 sequently she kept tossing from side to side, 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 59 
 
 sighing for sleep, whilst Sarah slept soundly 
 and tranquilly at her side. 
 
 Early in the morning the latter was aroused 
 by hearing Jessie's feeble voice calling her. 
 The sickly child was often very restless at 
 night, and the only way Sarah could soothe 
 and quiet her was by lying down beside her 
 in the child's crib ; Jessie would then nestle 
 in her arms, and with her little head pillowed 
 on her sister's breast would sink to sleep for 
 an hour or two, to awake up again with an- 
 other feeble moan. 
 
 On this morning, however, all Sarah's ten- 
 derness and nursing could not quiet the in- 
 valid. It was in vain that she pressed the 
 fevered head to her breast, soothing her, as 
 well as she could, with gentle words and ten- 
 der kisses, which the child returned with her 
 hot parched lips. As the daylight brightened 
 in the little chamber, she seemed to grow 
 worse, and yet unwilling to disturb her father, 
 who needed all the rest he could obtain to fit 
 him for the laborious work he had to endure 
 
60 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 during the day, Sarah still refrained from 
 rousing others in the house, lest in doing so 
 she should disturb both father and mother. 
 
 " Carry me about a bit, Sarah dear," whis- 
 pered the suffering child, as the cocks began 
 to crow ; " see that glimmer of sunshine 
 stealing in upon us ; but, dear, how hot and 
 heavy my head is." 
 
 Sarah had noticed the early sunbeam falling 
 upon her sister's face, which, instead of its 
 usual pallor, now wore a hectic flush that both 
 terrified and alarmed her. Fanny, who was 
 awake and was sitting up In bed, as was usual 
 with her, did not offer to assist Sarah in her 
 nursing. 
 
 Another weary hour passed, bringing no 
 relief to the suffering child, who lay on Sarah's 
 breast without the power to lift her head from 
 its resting-place. Whenever Sarah moistened 
 her lips with water Jessie's pale face was 
 lighted up with a smile, and then the little 
 head falling back again a few faint moans 
 would escape her lips. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 61 
 
 Sarali drew the only chair the room con- 
 tained to the window, and sat gazing on the 
 fresh summer landscape, glowing into life and 
 beauty beneath the reviving influence of 
 morning; but the cheering influence of the 
 sunrise was unheeded, her thoughts were 
 with the sick child that lay heavy and impas- 
 sive as lead in her arms. 
 
 Presently she heard her father's voice in 
 the adjoining room, and now for the first time 
 aware that he was awake, she called him to 
 come to her. He did so in a moment, fully 
 dressed, looking rather stern, for his features 
 were not pleasant when in repose ; but they 
 immediately softened when he asked what was 
 the matter. 
 
 " Jessie's very bad, I'm afraid, father," was 
 Sarah's rejoinder. " She woke me up about 
 four o'clock." 
 
 Crisp took the child gently in his arms, and 
 spoke words of great tenderness to her, as he 
 always did. 
 
 " Lay me in my crib, daddy dear," she 
 
62 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 said, feebly, as tie kissed her hot, clammy 
 forehead; "the room is all turning round 
 with me." 
 
 " I'll call on the doctor, Sarah, and get 
 him to look in," said Crisp, as he placed 
 the child in the crib. " Poor thing, I'm afraid 
 she's mortal bad this morning. Call thy 
 mother up as soon as I'm gone." 
 
 " Fanny might do, father," said Sarah, not 
 wishing to disturb her mother. 
 
 " I won't have a child of mine waited on by 
 her," said Crisp, in an exceedingly stern voice. 
 " Call thy mother up, there's a good lass." 
 
 He thought Fanny was asleep, and as he 
 spoke he crept away and went out of the house. 
 
 " I'll not forget that, girl," cried Fanny, 
 sitting up in bed, as soon as she heard the 
 door pulled to after her step-father. " Brats 
 like his indeed, are too good for me to nurse 
 'em are they ?" she muttered, in a low, angry 
 voice. 
 
 By the time Mrs. Crisp was up and dressed 
 the doctor arrived. Fanny had also dressed 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 63 
 
 herself, and, with her hair in greasy curl 
 papers, might be seen peeping oyer the 
 shoulders of the little group gathered round 
 the child's crib. 
 
 "I'm afraid your little girl has caught the 
 prevailing fever, Mrs. Crisp," he said at last, 
 very gravely. 
 
 The mother's fears told her, in the few 
 words spoken by the medical man, that her 
 child was doomed. Jessie was so very deli- 
 cate that there was very faint hope of her bear- 
 ing up against any disease of more than or- 
 dinary intensity. 
 
 " My little girl was more than usually lively 
 last night, sir," said the poor mother, in a low, 
 trembling voice ; " may not that have over- 
 done her." 
 
 The doctor made no reply ; he knew that 
 the child was not suffering from mere exhaus- 
 tion of the body. 
 
 " I will send you some medicine as soon as 
 I get home," he said, as he left the room. 
 
64 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " And you really think, sir, poor Jessie has 
 caught the fever ?" said the mother. 
 
 " Yes, and I should advise you, Mrs. Crisp, 
 to send those two boys away, that I saw as I 
 passed through the kitchen, until I am quite 
 certain about the case." 
 
 " I'll name it to my husband as soon as he 
 comes in. I have some relations at Chilworth 
 who will be glad to receive them if my hus- 
 band wishes it." 
 
 " Yery well ; the sooner they are off the 
 better." 
 
 "I suppose, sir, you fear infection ?" asked 
 the mother. 
 
 "I do. This little girl, I think, is going to 
 be very ill. You know, Mrs. Crisp, it's de- 
 sirable to be prepared for the worst." 
 
 " No doubt, sir," said Mrs. Crisp, in a 
 husky voice. 
 
 As soon as the doctor had gone, Sarah and 
 her mother talked the matter over, and came 
 to a determination to send Bobby and Tommy 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 65 
 
 away at once, if the father would agree to 
 their doing so. 
 
 A more selfish tempered girl than Sarah 
 Crisp would have deemed herself very hardly 
 dealt by, considering what she now had to do in 
 the family. Her mother would insist upon sit- 
 ting at the window in the bed-room, with 
 Jessie in her arms, though she was herself so 
 weak and poorly, and needed rest and quiet, 
 as much, almost, as the poor child. Then 
 there was the father's breakfast to be got 
 ready, as well as Bobby's and Tommy's, 
 whilst the two boys were to be kept from 
 school for fear of spreading infection ; there 
 was the kitchen to be tidied up, and the 
 dinner to be thought of, for people must eat, 
 even in the heaviest afflictions ; and Sarah 
 was too well aware how important it was for 
 the comfort of the whole family that every- 
 thing should go on as usual, to permit herself 
 to be idle for a single minute. 
 
 Fanny had been gone some time to her 
 daily occupation at Miss Thome's, a fashion- 
 
66 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 able milliner, where she learned a great deal 
 of harm in addition to the hard work she had 
 to go through, so that she conld be of no use 
 in the house. In fact, Fanny never thought 
 it was her duty to assist her step-sister 
 in household work, considering herself more 
 in the light of a lodger than as one of the 
 family. 
 
 Sarah lost no time in lighting the fire and 
 putting the kettle on, to boil water for break- 
 fast, and then she set to work to make the 
 kitchen tidy, and look as neat and bright as 
 she could. This done, she ran up stairs and 
 found that her mother was carrying Jessie in 
 her arms up and down the room, and satisfied 
 that the latter was not being neglected, she 
 came down again to get the breakfast things 
 arranged, the mugs of milk-and-water put 
 ready for the two boys, and the tea brewed 
 by the time Crisp's foot was heard on the 
 doorstep. 
 
 The room looked so cheerful and bright, 
 that for a moment his fears for Jessie were 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 67 
 
 put to flight ; but his heart sank again when 
 he caught the sad expression on poor Sarah's 
 face. 
 
 " Has the doctor called, lass ?" he asked, 
 in a husky voice. 
 
 "Yes, father." 
 
 " How long since ?" 
 
 "More than an hour ago," Sarah replied. 
 
 "Well, and what did he say ?" demanded 
 Crisp. 
 
 " That Jessie's very sadly, father." 
 
 " That's bad. I heard as I came from the 
 foundry that Sandifer's youngest boy was 
 down with the fever, and bad as bad could be. 
 Did the doctor say that Jessie had caught 
 it ?" he asked, almost fearfully. 
 
 " He said he feared so, father, and that has 
 made mother very anxious for you to come 
 back. She wants Bobby and Tommy to be 
 sent away to uncle James's." 
 
 " They shall go at once. Mr. Gladstone 
 will let me off this afternoon, so that I can 
 take them. Is thy mother with Jessie ?" 
 
68 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " Yes, father." 
 
 " Then I'll go up and see how my little 
 darling is." And Crisp went noiselessly up 
 the stairs. 
 
 He found his wife sitting near the window 
 with the poor child, tossing uneasily about, in 
 her arms. Crisp could not hide from himself 
 the danger of both mother and daughter, and 
 felt it difficult to say which looked nearer 
 death, the mother, with her pale, anxious 
 face, or the child with the hectic flush on its 
 cheeks, and brilliant eyes. 
 
 " We must prepare ourselves for the worst, 
 Mary," William at length said, as he stooped 
 and kissed his pet child's forehead. " She 
 seems fearful bad." 
 
 " She does indeed, William. Feel how hot 
 her hands are," and Mrs. Crisp put the tiny 
 fingers in his grasp. " They are very hot, but 
 they are not more so than all the rest of her 
 body." 
 
 Crisp felt a tear trickle down his rough 
 cheek, as he took his wife's hand in his, and 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 69 
 
 endeavoured to cheer her with the hope that 
 Jessie might still struggle through her present 
 illness. 
 
 " I will take the two lads to your brother's 
 this afternoon," he said, a moment after. 
 " God in his goodness and mercy may see fit 
 to spare them, and take only our dear little 
 innocent lamb here." 
 
 " Oh ! William, dear, don't talk in that 
 way," cried his wife, weeping bitter tears. 
 " I cannot, indeed I cannot part with her just 
 yet. She was my last, and my heart clings 
 more fondly to her." 
 
 Crisp took down from a shelf the family 
 Bible, in which his own age and that of his 
 wife was recorded, along with all their chil- 
 dren, and said — 
 
 "Mary, dost thou remember how King 
 David bore the loss of the child that the wife 
 of Uriah the Hittite bore to him ? I will 
 read it to you," and slowly and painfully, 
 with many sobs, Crisp read the beautiful and 
 pathetic story, and when he had finished it, 
 
70 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 he said, " Now, dear Mary, canst thou tell 
 God that He must not take our dearly 
 beloved bairn, if it seems good to Him?" 
 
 " I have been very wrong to speak as I 
 have done, William," said his wife, with tears 
 and sobs, " but it's hard to part with our dear 
 one in that way. You men cannot feel such 
 sorrow as a mother that has brought her 
 children into the world with the pains of child- 
 birth." 
 
 " Remember, Mary, my love, Jessie is still 
 with us," said her husband mournfully, but 
 calmly, "and the good and merciful God may 
 yet have pity, listen to our prayers, and suffer 
 the innocent one to continue with us." 
 
 " I will pray for her," said the wife eagerly. 
 " Now, love, go down and get your break- 
 fast, and leave Jessie and me together. Sarah 
 can get all you want." 
 
 He kissed his wife in his rough, stern way, 
 and went down stairs, for time was precious 
 with him. "When he stole up again, not 
 many minutes after, his wife was on her 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 71 
 
 knees at the foot of Jessie's crib, fervently 
 petitioning God for the life of the child, who 
 was as dear to her as was the son of the in- 
 spired Psalmist. 
 
 " Make thy mother take some breakfast, 
 my love," he said to Sarah on coming down 
 stairs again, " or she'll starve herself to death 
 with nursing the poor bairn." 
 
72 THE GLADSTONES, 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 Every one in Braidsworth felt — despite the 
 bright summer weather, that had now lasted 
 much longer than the oldest person of the 
 village could remember — that a cloud hun^ 
 over the place, and the boldest amongst them 
 trembled when they thought what might 
 happen. And yet the weather was so deli- 
 cious and so sunny it was scarcely possible to 
 realise to yourself the existence of such wide- 
 spread danger and such steadily approaching 
 suffering — suffering in which Nature herself 
 seemed quite unwilling to sympathise. It 
 was only when you came into Braidsworth 
 and met the sorrowful-looking countenances 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 73 
 
 of the people, which reflected the fear felt at 
 their hearts, that you began to imagine they 
 were not so prosperous and happy as might 
 be supposed. 
 
 Some of the more active inhabitants of the 
 village, William Gladstone amongst the rest, 
 declared the houses were so over-crowded 
 that it was almost impossible those who 
 lived in them could be healthy ; and to add 
 to this sad state of things, there was scarcely 
 a proper drain in the village, whilst two, three, 
 and sometimes four families were packed 
 together in a tenement that was scarcely 
 large enough for one. The natural conse- 
 quence was, that when any infectious disease 
 attacked the neighbourhood the ravage it 
 committed was fearful. 
 
 There were more persons than William 
 Gladstone that morning who deemed it high 
 time, if any good was to be effected, efforts 
 should be made to get a visiting committee 
 appointed. Dr. Smith said as much to his 
 wife, who was very busily engaged tying 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
74 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 up lier carnations whilst her husband was 
 buttoning on his gaiters in the breakfast- 
 room, the windows of which opened into the 
 garden. 
 
 When such a scourge was stalking abroad, 
 Dr. Smith above all others knew the necessity 
 for the proposed precaution. He was a 
 very skilful physician, and one in whom the 
 people at large put implicit trust, although 
 he was old-fashioned in his notions, some- 
 what fastidious, and liked to have his own 
 way with every one. 
 
 Dr. Smith was a small man, with a 
 powdered head, and a fresh, wholesome com- 
 plexion, with eyes as keen as a hawk's. Mrs. 
 Smith was pale, or rather delicately fair, with 
 soft blue eyes, that must have been beautiful 
 when she was younger. The doctor, as he 
 left the room, came to her side and said — 
 
 " My love, I wish you would walk up to 
 the Rectory and see what Vinen intends 
 doing about the visiting committee business. 
 I shall not be back till late in the day, and 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 75 
 
 something must be done without an hour's 
 delay." 
 
 Mrs. Smith gave over her gardening oper- 
 ations and put away her tools. You would 
 have set her down as a very phlegmatic 
 person, judging by the quiet way in which she 
 did this, but she was, in truth, a thoroughly 
 warm-hearted, true woman, and one of the 
 most unselfish creatures it was possible for 
 you to imagine. 
 
 " Don't wait dinner for me, my dear," said 
 her husband, who seemed in a hurry to be 
 oh . " I have a long round this morning, as 
 well as a great number of patients to visit, 
 so it is quite impossible for me even to guess 
 when I shall get home again," and he was 
 oh before she could reply, 
 
 Mrs. Smith immediately left the garden and 
 went into the breakfast room, and as it was 
 too early to go to the Rectory, she betook 
 herself to her husband's easy chair. There 
 could not well be a greater contrast in almost 
 every point than Dr. Smith and his wife pre- 
 
 e 2 
 
76 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 sented. This dissimilarity between husband 
 and wife is by no means uncommon. I often 
 think that the married life is made more 
 happy when it exists than when it does not. 
 The doctor was keen, quick, and decisive, 
 both in thought and deed, caring for no one, 
 and speaking his opinion in every company 
 with a boldness that almost always carried 
 conviction with it. His wife was gentle 
 and timid, and at times almost oppressed 
 by a strange diffidence that prevented her 
 being so completely at home in society as 
 her refined mind and cheering manners should 
 have made her. She could not, in fact, en- 
 tirely divest herself of that personal egotism 
 that makes some people fancy their every 
 word and action is noticed by those around 
 them. So she sat wishing that some happy 
 chance would prevent the necessity of her 
 going by herself to the Rectory. She was 
 rising reluctantly, with the intention of 
 putting on her bonnet and shawl, for it was 
 near eleven o'clock, when she heard the wicket 
 
THE GLADSTONES, 77 
 
 gate open and some one walk leisurely up the 
 garden walk. 
 
 " It is Miss Frances Gladstone, I declare," 
 was Mrs. Smith's mental observation, as she 
 peeped over a large geranium, and, running 
 out into the passage, she met Frances. 
 
 " My dear Miss Frances, I am so very glad 
 to see you," she exclaimed, holding her visitor's 
 soft hand in both her own, as she led her 
 from the passage into the breakfast room. 
 " My husband wished me to go up to the 
 Rectory this morning, and I was just wishing 
 for some one to accompany me." 
 
 " I am going there myself," said Frances, 
 sitting down and taking off her bonnet. 
 " What a sultry day we are going to have !" 
 
 " It must be very warm in the fields, I 
 think," said Mrs. Smith, whose usually pale 
 face was flushed with pleasure. " I suppose 
 I may depend upon your going to the Rectory 
 with me ?" 
 
 " Oh ! certainly. William Crisp's little 
 girl, I understand, has caught the fever." 
 
78 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " My husband was sent for very early this 
 morning to see the poor child. Is she very 
 ill ?" 
 
 "I fear she is, from what my brother 
 William says. Had we not better go to Dr. 
 Yinen' s before Mrs. Yinen goes out ?" 
 
 Mrs. Smith only needed a shawl and bonnet 
 to be ready to set off, and these were put on 
 in a minute, now that she had a companion 
 — the one of all others she would have 
 chosen; a visit to the Rectory was a very 
 pleasant duty ; her face was radiant with 
 smiles, and she had so much to say, and said 
 everything so prettily, that Frances could do 
 little else than listen. 
 
 Braidsworth was a valuable living, and the 
 Rectory grounds were much more extensive 
 than a stranger would think, did he only see 
 the long, rambling, ivy-clad house that stood 
 in the midst of them. Dr. Yinen had taken 
 possession of the living some forty years 
 before, when the Rectory was thought a hand- 
 some house; and with something of that 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 79 
 
 feeling which compels us to preserve un- 
 touched the memorials of early happiness, he 
 would not permit any alteration to be made in 
 it, excepting those which a rapidly increasing 
 family compelled. 
 
 Of all his large family only one remained 
 under the paternal roof, for the daughters had 
 married early, and the sons were now spread 
 over the four quarters of the globe. One of 
 the foimer had married the eldest son of a 
 neighbouring Squire, and the other three were 
 settled in the West of England. Dr. Yinen's 
 youngest daughter Amelia, a lively young lady 
 of twenty, was the only child left in one of 
 those happy households with the fortunate 
 members of which everything seems to 
 prosper. 
 
 "What a cultivated taste for flowers Mrs. 
 Yinen has," said Mrs. Smith, as they walked 
 up the pathway to the house. " The lawns and 
 walks always look so exquisitely neat, and 
 yet you never see the gardener about the 
 place." 
 
80 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " I tliink I can hear his shears clipping the 
 hedge somewhere," said Frances, stopping to 
 listen. 
 
 " I dare say you do, my love. Now, that 
 turf, Miss Frances, looks just like a piece of 
 green velvet." 
 
 " Yes, and I have no doubt is quite as soft 
 to the foot. I believe Dr. Yinen expects his 
 son, the Captain, will be home in the course 
 of the week." 
 
 " Some one told me he expects to get an- 
 other ship very soon ; I'm sure, if the Lord 
 High Admiral, or whatever they call him, 
 knew what a fine manly fellow he is, he would 
 give him one at once." 
 
 This was Dr. Yinen' s youngest son, who 
 had just returned from a foreign station, but 
 had been detained in London since he landed 
 in England, so that his family had not yet 
 seen him. 
 
 " He is not such a handsome fellow as Mr. 
 Joseph Yinen," continued Mrs. Smith, who 
 had known all the Yinens from childhood. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 81 
 
 " nor so full of fun as his brother Charles ; 
 but he is a fine fellow for all that. Do you not 
 think so, Miss Frances ?" 
 
 " It is so long since I have seen him," said 
 her companion, quietly, " that I almost for- 
 get-" 
 
 " How could you forget an old playfellow 
 so easily ?" interrupted Mrs. Smith. 
 
 Frances blushed and smiled, as she said she 
 supposed Captain Vinen would be very much 
 altered, for he was quite a youth when he had 
 last left the Eectory. 
 
 " He could not then be more than twenty, 
 my dear, and he has been absent ten years." 
 
 " A very long time to look back to," said 
 Frances, as they reached the house. " I think 
 Mrs. Yinen will be in the breakfast room," and 
 she led the way there at once. 
 
 " Good morning, Mrs. Yinen," Frances 
 said, holding out her hand to the only occu- 
 pant of the room, " I've brought Mrs. Smith 
 to see you." 
 
 e 5 
 
82 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " I am very pleased to see you both, my 
 dears," said the Rector's lady, rising to re- 
 ceive them with cheerful alacrity ; " I was just 
 dreading to go out this sultry morning, and 
 now that you are both here I think I shall 
 stay where I am." 
 
 Mrs. Yinen was about sixty years old, but 
 did not look so much, so gently had time laid 
 his hand upon a figure which was still grace- 
 ful, and a complexion that had almost the 
 delicate bloom of a young girl. The face, it 
 is true, was wrinkled, and the hair rather 
 grey, but you scarcely noticed either in the 
 vivacity of expression that continually dis- 
 displayed itself upon her countenance. 
 
 " I will ring for Amelia," she said, pulling 
 the bell, and when a footman came to answer 
 it, she desired him to tell Miss Yinen to come 
 to her. 
 
 " My husband desired me to speak to Dr. 
 Yinen or yourself upon a rather urgent matter, 
 dear Mrs. Yinen," said Mrs. Smith, who felt 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 83 
 
 quite brave in Frances Gladstone's company. 
 " He says the fever is beginning to shew itself 
 in the village." 
 
 " So Doctor Yinen told me when he came 
 in to breakfast this morning. I believe he in- 
 tends to go round the parish to-morrow with 
 Mr. Gladstone and Doctor Smith, if those 
 gentlemen can spare him their time." 
 
 " Can we do nothing in the mean time ?" 
 Mrs. Smith asked. 
 
 " I think we had better wait until the gentle- 
 men see what steps should be taken. Is not 
 that your opinion ?" 
 
 " How do you do, Frances?" said Miss Yinen, 
 who entered the room at this juncture ; " some- 
 thing very serious must be the matter, you 
 are all looking so grave. My dear Mrs. 
 Smith, what a long time it is since you were 
 last here." 
 
 " Doctor Smith is so uncertain, and I dis- 
 like so much, Miss Amelia, to be out when he 
 comes home," pleaded Mrs. Smith. 
 
 " Doctor Smith is a very disagreeable per- 
 
84 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 son to need so much waiting on," said Amelia, 
 who was plump and fresh-coloured like her 
 father, and had a good deal of his firm, de- 
 cisive manner. " I would not permit myself 
 to become such a slave as you are, even to 
 him." 
 
 Frances Gladstone laughed and Mrs. Smith 
 blushed at this attack, and then looked at Mrs. 
 Yinen, as if she wished to continue the con- 
 versation that Amelia's entrance had inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 " Come this way with me, Frances," said 
 Amelia, putting her arm round her friend's 
 waist, and taking her by main force out of 
 the room. " Mamma and Mrs. Smith are 
 evidently set in for a long gossip, and I have 
 a world of things to tell you about Alfred, 
 who I fancy you know is coming home almost 
 immediately; in fact, we expect him this 
 week." 
 
 " How delighted you must be, Amelia." 
 
 " I am positively quite out of my senses," 
 continued Miss Yinen, leading Frances across 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 85 
 
 the lawn into one of the shadiest and snug- 
 gest walks she could find. " I have a whole 
 batch of his letters in my pocket somewhere, 
 which I will read to you. Only think, how 
 odd he should remember you, and odder still 
 that he should desire to hear how you are, 
 and whether you and Kate are married, 
 and—" 
 
 " Oh ! Amelia, how can you wonder at such 
 silly things," cried Frances, colouring. 
 
 " Nothing but the truth, my dear. Ahem ! 
 where is it ?" 
 
 And Amelia sat down on the bench and be- 
 gan to run her eye rapidly over first one 
 letter and then another of a packet she had 
 pulled out of her pocket. 
 
 " He writes an abominable hand, as you 
 may see, Frances. Poor Alfred never had any 
 great vocation for pot-hooks and down strokes, 
 and all these letters have been scrawled in 
 such a hurry that really, what with blots and 
 mistakes and badly-spelt words, it is next to 
 impossible sometimes to detect his meaning. 
 
86 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 Well, never mind, Frances, I can't find the 
 sentence." 
 
 Frances smiled and stood watching her 
 companion, who spoke with a voluble vivacity 
 that made her look rather droll. 
 
 " Do yon remember Alfred, Frances ?" she 
 asked, flinging back a profusion of dark curls 
 from her forehead, and fixing her keen eye on 
 her companion. 
 
 " I think I do." 
 
 " What was he like, pray ?" 
 
 " Not exactly handsome." 
 
 " Frank looking, though ?" 
 
 " I thought him so, Amelia, then, and he 
 had what you may call a pleasant-looking 
 face." 
 
 " Exactly," said Amelia, nodding her head, 
 " and I picture him to myself just as you 
 describe him. Go on." 
 
 " He was a manly young fellow of twenty 
 when he left Braids worth," said Frances, 
 humouring her. " I recollect the day perfectly 
 well." 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 87 
 
 " And so do I, my dear. Your father had 
 business in London, and went with Alfred all 
 the way. My recollection of the whole occur- 
 rence is so vivid that I can scarcely believe 
 ten years have intervened. I wonder what 
 he will think of us all now." 
 
 Frances thought in her own mind that he 
 might think very little, if at all. Long absence 
 weakens the bonds of affection so silently, and 
 yet so surely, that few come back to their 
 childhood's home with the same warm, un- 
 selfish love they carried forth with them. 
 
 " We are to have a regular gathering of the 
 clan Yinen, in honor of Alfred's return. * The 
 Morgans (these were the neighbouring squire, 
 his son, and wife) come on Saturday, with a 
 regular nursery of noisy brats. Then Ruth, 
 and Elizabeth, and their foxhunting spouses, 
 come as early next week as they can. Some 
 of them are in India, the Arctic regions, and 
 the deuce knows where." 
 
 " Where is that, Amelia ?" 
 
 "I am sure I cannot tell, Frances," said 
 
88 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 Amelia laughing ; and she jumped up, and 
 began to pace up and down the shady walk 
 they had strayed into. " If there is a black 
 sheep in the clan, it is Sam, I think." 
 
 " I understood Mr. Sam Yinen was very 
 rich ?" 
 
 " I believe he is. I can't tell you how 
 many lacs of rupees they say his fortune is, 
 but for all that he is rather tainted. I shall 
 be in a regular fever, Frances, till Alfred 
 comes." 
 
 She looked in a fever then, as she walked 
 rapidly up and down, past Frances, with her 
 flushed cheeks, and kindling eye, humming 
 snatches of tunes, and then breaking off again 
 abruptly, to continue the conversation about 
 her brother. 
 
 " Do you know, Frances, somehow I feel 
 as if Alfred belonged more to me than he does 
 to any of the rest of the family. My other 
 brothers were married, and scattered about 
 the world long before I had emerged from 
 the nursery, so that Alfred is the only one 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 89 
 
 I can remember who romped and played 
 with me in real earnest. If the others ever 
 condescended to do so, it was only a make 
 believe." 
 
 " Then that will render you all the happier 
 for his coming home," said her companion. 
 
 " Just so. I wish he had not been detained 
 in London," said Amelia. 
 
 " Why so ?" 
 
 " Because I should have liked to have had 
 him all to myself, before the others arrive." 
 
 " Well, he may possibly arrive to-day," 
 said Amelia. 
 
 Amelia shook her head, saying — 
 
 " I think that is impossible." 
 
 " Had we not better go back to the house, 
 Amelia?" asked Frances. "Mrs. Smith, I 
 fear, will think us very rude in remaining 
 absent so long." 
 
 " I believe mamma intends to celebrate 
 Alfred's return by a dinner party or some- 
 thing of the sort. What a pity it is not 
 winter time." 
 
90 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " Because we might have had a dance 
 instead." 
 
 " Suppose you have the piano brought on 
 to the lawn ?" 
 
 " A capital idea ! I will try and coax mamma 
 to let your suggestion be carried out, and then 
 we could have a dance by moonlight." 
 
 " And give us all our deaths of cold," 
 laughed Frances, who was not romantic 
 enough to feel the poetry of this arrangement. 
 K I should much prefer dancing in your draw- 
 ing-room." 
 
 "You goose ! That is far too common- 
 place. No ! we will have it on the lawn." 
 
 Mrs. Smith was tying the strings of her 
 bonnet as the two friends re-entered the room, 
 so their re-appearance was most opportune. 
 She looked rather grave, and so did Mrs. 
 Yinen, in comparison with the beaming look 
 upon Amelia's countenance ; but then the 
 two elder ladies had been discussing a rather 
 solemn subject, whilst Amelia's discourse had 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 91 
 
 been all about balls, dinner parties, and the 
 return of a brother, for whom she cherished a 
 very affectionate attachment. 
 
 " I will let you know, Frances, the moment 
 he comes," whispered Amelia, as she accom- 
 panied them through the hall. " He cannot, 
 I should think, be kept much longer in 
 London. Now, don't laugh, I'm sure he 
 speaks very handsomely of you." 
 
92 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Miss Amelia Vinen had not an opportunity 
 of keeping the promise she made at the end 
 of the last chapter to Frances Gladstone, as 
 Dr. Vinen walked into the breakfast-room at 
 the Bookery, whilst all the family were at 
 breakfast, and introduced with a beaming 
 countenance his son Captain Vinen, first to 
 William, and then to each of his sisters. 
 
 " Took us all by surprise, young ladies I" 
 cried the good clergyman, who looked as if he 
 could have hugged them all, he was so happy, 
 and so proud of Alfred, as he affectionately 
 styled him. " My wife and I were sitting 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 93 
 
 comfortably over the fire in my study last 
 night — " 
 
 "A fire, such a hot night as it was, sir!" ex- 
 claimed Kate, who was the only one that had 
 her wits about her. "Why, it was a real 
 Indian heat !" 
 
 " I always think it chilly at night, so the 
 ladies indulge me with a fire in my study ; 
 and as I was saying, my wife and I were 
 sitting before it — after Amelia had gone to 
 bed — talking of old times, as old folks will 
 talk, when I heard carriage wheels crumping 
 over the newly laid gravel, that the gardener 
 had just put down in front of the house, and 
 on going out, his lordship there was standing 
 on the step as saucy as — what shall I say, 
 Kate ?" 
 
 " As Dr. Yinen," she said with a laugh. 
 
 " And very little I found either you or my 
 mother altered, sir," said his son. " Are you 
 married, Gladstone ?" 
 
 " Not yet, Alfred," said William, laughing. 
 
 " Nor you, Miss Frances ?" 
 
94 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " We are all as you see us," said William, 
 answering for his sisters. " It is time enough 
 yet for them." 
 
 " Frances u was quite a little girl when I 
 went to sea," said Alfred, who had allowed 
 his eyes to wander much more towards her 
 than to either Kate or Sophia. 
 
 " And now you find her a fine, well-grown 
 young woman, eh, Alfred?" said Dr. Yinen, 
 taking off his hat, as he drew his chair to the 
 table ; " Miss Frances, may I trouble you for 
 a cup of chocolate and a small piece of 
 toast ?" 
 
 " You breakfasted an hour ago, sir," said 
 the Captain, who did not understand how the 
 rector could be hungry so soon. 
 
 " You mean I should have breakfasted an 
 hour since had you not spoiled my appetite 
 with your bustling about. Mrs. Hannah's 
 chocolate is as good as her custards I think." 
 
 " You are so complimentary to Hannah, 
 that I verily believe you intend to inveigle her 
 away from us," said Sophia. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 95 
 
 " She would not leave us," said Kate, 
 who was examining Captain Yinen very 
 critically. 
 
 The Captain was not by any means hand- 
 some ; not even good-looking, but the expres- 
 sion of his face showed talent, goodness, 
 and determination. The high forehead was 
 fair, whilst the rest of the features were 
 bronzed, as if by exposure to a tropical sun, 
 and Kate was considerably puzzled as to 
 which of his parents he bore the greater 
 resemblance. Frances thought his frank 
 good-humoured smile made his features 
 almost handsome, whilst Kate overlooked 
 that altogether. He had, both in face and 
 person, that solid, substantial look, which, 
 after all, is the best kind of stuff to carry its 
 possessor bravely through the world. 
 
 " How are things progressing in Braids- 
 worth ?" he asked, drawing his chair nearer 
 to William. " I learn from my father you 
 are, by many degrees, the most important 
 person in the village." 
 
96 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " Important ! That dignity is accorded 
 me because I employ the greatest amount of 
 labour. In the present disturbed state of 
 things, my position is by no means an 
 enviable one." 
 
 " Is work plentiful ?" 
 
 " No ; but labour is, and I see little chance 
 of sufficient increased orders to enable the 
 masters to employ the hands out of work." 
 
 " That's bad," said the Captain. 
 
 " Yes ; and the employers are getting 
 nervous and despairing, as they find them- 
 selves compelled to curtail their establish- 
 ments, whilst the employed are daily becoming 
 more discontented with the diminution of them 
 earnings, and the small amount of money they 
 carry home to their half- starving wives and 
 children." 
 
 " How do those exist who have neither 
 employment nor money?" 
 
 " On credit from the shops, as long as they 
 
 can." 
 
 And when that fails them ?" 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 97 
 
 William shrugged his shoulders, but made 
 no reply. 
 
 " Then I'm not come home before I'm 
 
 wanted," thought the Captain, watching his 
 
 friend's stern face for some time in silence ; 
 
 afterwards he asked aloud, " are you going to 
 
 the foundry ?" 
 
 " I had intended doing so, when you came 
 in. "Would you like to go ?" 
 
 " If I should not be in your way." 
 
 " Not in the least." 
 
 " My father talks of calling on Dr. Smith." 
 
 " What for ?" 
 
 " To arrange for making an inspection of 
 the sanitary condition of the parish." 
 
 " A most desirable thing." 
 
 " Yes ; especially as I hear a virulent fever 
 is stalking abroad, in addition to your other 
 calamities." 
 
 " I'm afraid so," said William. 
 
 " I am going with Mr. Gladstone to his 
 foundry, sir," said the son, addressing his 
 father. " Will you accompany us as far as 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
98 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 Dr. Smith's, or shall we leave you to — to 
 finish your breakfast." 
 
 " I have already finished, Mr. Imperti- 
 nence," said the Doctor, with a smile. 
 
 " Then you will go with us ?" 
 
 " Yes ; for unless I go at once, the doctor 
 will have gone out for the day," said the 
 Rector, rising and putting on his hat. 
 " Come, Gladstone, let us be off." 
 
 " What a total change, the quietude that 
 reigns here, after the bustle of the London 
 streets," said the Captain, as they walked 
 down the garden; "the silence is positively 
 oppressive to my feelings." 
 
 " You like distraction, Alfred," said the 
 Hector. 
 
 " I prefer the life of a great city, sir." 
 
 " Why ?" asked his father. 
 
 " Because, to my mind, nothing can be 
 more miserable than the constrained idleness 
 of many of the shopkeepers in villages and 
 rural country towns, which only brighten up 
 into a sort of existence on market days." 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 99 
 
 " I think you are right, Alfred," said 
 William. 
 
 " I don't think ; I know I am right," was 
 the reply. 
 
 " Yes ; such an existence is not life — it's a 
 mocking dream," rejoined his friend. 
 
 " And it would be far better for men with 
 such a fate to emigrate to the wilds of the 
 forests of America, where, in the course of a 
 few years, they might sit down in the midst 
 of fields of ripening grain, that they have by 
 industry and perseverance won from the 
 primeval forests, and see their children 
 gambolling round their knees." 
 
 "Well done, Alf!" exclaimed the Doctor, 
 slapping him on the back. 
 
 " It must be a heart-crushing task for a 
 man with health and energy to be obliged to 
 fall back upon the life of a country-town 
 shopkeeper," continued the Captain. " A 
 heart must be as hard as flint that does not 
 break rather than submit to such a con- 
 dition !" 
 
 f 2 
 
100 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " Yet a vast number do submit to it," said 
 Gladstone, holding out his hand to Dr. Yinen 
 as he bade him good-bye. 
 
 " I shall most likely see you again before 
 the day is over," said the Hector, as he 
 turned into Dr. Smith's garden. " Remem- 
 ber, Alf, we dine at two o'clock." 
 
 Captain Yinen thought his friend Glad- 
 stone had no reason to complain of bad times, 
 when he caught sight of the blazing foundry 
 fires, and the number of busy workmen he 
 could see through the open doors. 
 
 A man came from the foundry to meet Mr. 
 Gladstone. The Captain fancied he knew him. 
 
 "Can you spare me this afternoon, sir?" 
 said the man, addressing Mr. Gladstone with, 
 what appeared to Alfred, great solemnity. 
 
 " Certainly, "William. Where are you 
 going?" 
 
 " To Chilworth, sir, My youngest child 
 has taken the fever, I fear, and is very bad, 
 so Dr. Smith advised me to remove the two 
 boys immediately." 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 101 
 
 "You need not come back after dinner 
 then," said Mr. Gladstone, kindly. " Were 
 the castings sent off ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, the first thing this morning. 
 Mr. Deck sent to say he should want a few 
 more brackets in the course of the week." 
 
 " Well, there's plenty of time to see after 
 them to-morrow, William. When did Dr. 
 Smith see your child ?" 
 
 " This morning, afore breakfast," said 
 Crisp, whose stern face would have looked 
 emotionless at the moment, had it not been 
 for the quivering of the lips. " I'm unwilling 
 to say 'tis fever, but I can't think it's any- 
 thing else ; the poor little thing is mortal 
 bad." 
 
 " There goes as worthy a fellow as ever 
 lived !" observed Mr. Gladstone to Captain 
 Yinen, as Crisp walked away. 
 
 " He looked somewhat morose, I thought," 
 said his companion. 
 
 " Ah ! many would think him morose and 
 
102 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 sullen, judging by Ms countenance and man- 
 ner, but lie is neither. What makes you look 
 about so strangely, Alfred ?" 
 
 "I fancied from what you said in the 
 morning at breakfast, William, that I should 
 find a deserted foundry." 
 
 "And you cannot conceal your surprise, 
 that your imagination magnified the evil," 
 observed his friend, with a smile. 
 
 " Just so." 
 
 " I am better off than most of my neigh- 
 bours for the present," rejoined Gladstone, 
 leading the way through a chaotic mass of 
 every description of ironwork, from a gigantic 
 furnace down to a lot of pig-troughs, that 
 crowded the foundry-yard, until they reached 
 the office-door. 
 
 " I have a tolerable amount of writing and 
 planning to get through this morning," he 
 continued bluntly, as if the ten years they 
 had been separated had been unable to destroy 
 the frankness that had formerly existed be- 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 103 
 
 tween them. " Will you come up to ' Tlie 
 Rookery' to-night, if you are not better 
 engaged P" 
 
 w I dare not promise till I have paid my 
 respects to everybody within visiting distance. 
 I heard my mother and Amelia planning a 
 small party for to-morrow night, in honour of 
 the return of the prodigal son ; so that if we 
 don't meet before, I shall see you then. Good- 
 bye for the present." 
 
 Mr. Gladstone entered his office and drew 
 forth his drawing-board with a sigh, for he 
 had a presentiment that his labour on that 
 particular job would be in vain, and even if 
 he were paid for it, prices were so ruinously 
 low, that manufacturers undertook their con- 
 tracts more for the sake of keeping their men 
 together than with an idea of profit in their 
 transactions. 
 
 He spent the morning planning, calculating, 
 and thinking over his own position and that 
 of many of those with whom he had business 
 transactions. By twelve o'clock he had 
 
104 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 finished his plan and covered a couple of 
 sheets of foolscap with calculations that were 
 more than enough to make an indolent man's 
 head ache, merely to look at ; but Gladstone 
 smiled, almost a happy smile, for the labour 
 of thinking and scheming had restored the 
 tone of his nerves wonderfully. 
 
 He saw the last man out of the yard, and 
 then, locking the office-door, he put the key 
 in his pocket, and began retracing his steps 
 homewards. 
 
 Frances was alone in the breakfast parlour,. 
 as he looked into the room in passing. 
 
 " Are you disengaged to-morrow evening,. 
 William ? " she asked, walking towards the 
 door. 
 
 " Why, Frances ?" 
 
 " Because we are all invited to drink tea at 
 the Rectory to-morrow evening." 
 
 " Very well ; write and accept the invita- 
 tion. Alfred told me something about it 
 before he left me. Is dinner ready ?" 
 
 "It will be directly," replied his sister.. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 105 
 
 " Do you not think Alfred Yinen looks very 
 old, William ?" 
 
 " He does look older than most men of 
 thirty, Frances ; but then great allowance 
 must be made for the wear and tear of the 
 tropical climate in which the last ten years of 
 his life have been spent. I am very glad he 
 has come home just at this particular junc- 
 ture." 
 
 " Why ?" 
 
 " Because he will make himself of use. If 
 a riot should take place, where could we get 
 such another cool-headed and bold-hearted 
 fellow ?" was her brother's rejoinder. 
 
 " William does expect a riot, then," thought 
 Frances, as she went into the kitchen to 
 hurry Hannah with the dinner. " How un- 
 happy this continual anticipation of a coming 
 evil makes me ! I wish my dear brother was 
 not quite so bold and unyielding," and as she 
 attended to domestic duties she tried to for- 
 get his words and the look that accompanied 
 them, but in vain. 
 
 E 5 
 
106 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Sophia Gladstone scarcely ever left the two 
 rooms which comprised her world, so that 
 William and his two younger sisters only 
 were expected at the Rectory the following 
 evening. 
 
 " There is the new number of the c Edin- 
 burgh,' cut ready for you, Sophy," said 
 Frances, as she stood, bonnet in hand, beside 
 Sophia's sofa, waiting for her companions ; 
 " and there's the c Antiquary ' as well ; but I 
 hope you won't dip into that, for you know I 
 promised to read it to you, and I will com- 
 mence in the morning, if you will leave it 
 until then." 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 107 
 
 11 The ( Edinburgh ' will be quite enough 
 for my invalid appetite," returned Sophia, 
 good-humour edly. " I must read as much as 
 I can to-night, for Uncle Newman will send 
 oyer for it in the morning. Was it not kind 
 of him to give me the ' Antiquary ' and 
 c Waverley,' with my name written on the 
 blank leaf?" 
 
 " Yery kind ; but you know you are his 
 heiress," said Frances, " so it's no wondnr he 
 spends a portion of his money in luxuries for 
 you. There is William calling for me, down- 
 stairs. God bless you, dear !" and, with a 
 loving kiss, Frances ran off. 
 
 Let us change the scene to an hour or two 
 after the party had left " The Rookery." 
 The moon is rising, round and red, over 
 Braidsworth Church. The drawing-room of 
 the Rectory is full of company, and from the 
 numerous groups into which Mrs. Vinen's 
 friends have divided themselves proceeds that 
 pleasant hum of many voices which shows 
 that all are comfortably at ease and happy. 
 
108 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 Standing against one of the windows Wil- 
 liam Gladstone is chatting with Amelia Vinen 
 and another young lady, between whom he 
 distributes his animated and lively conversa- 
 tion. The rest of the party, at times, catch 
 a low laugh, or a smothered remonstrance 
 from one or other of them, till the conversa- 
 tion sinks into a whisper as Kate Gladstone 
 is singing, but soon rises again into the 
 former pitch of gaiety. 
 
 " Mamma was saying some very ugly things 
 of you the other day, Mr. Gladstone," said 
 Amelia's companion, turning a pair of lovely 
 bright eyes upon him as she spoke. " In days 
 o' auld lang syne you used to call and show 
 yourself at Sunnyside once a fortnight at 
 farthest, but now she has discovered that 
 it is four months since you did us that 
 honour." 
 
 " I am so very much engaged now," said 
 William, a little embarrassed, " and besides 
 you know, Miss Coulson, I had business in 
 that neighbourhood at the time you speak of." 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 109 
 
 " Heigho ! one would imagine ' Sunny- 
 side' lay sixty miles at least from c The 
 Rookery,' " said she mischievously, " and, in 
 truth, I disbelieve your very paltry subterfuge 
 so much, that I lay my commands upon you 
 to drive Kate and Frances over on Tuesday 
 next." 
 
 " If I can conveniently leave home, Miss 
 Agatha, I shall be most happy to obey you,'* 
 said William, bowing. 
 
 " There must be no ' ifs' in the case ; you 
 must come — I insist upon your coming, and 
 you know, Mr. Gladstone, the penalty every 
 one pays who disobeys my commands. I 
 shall invite this impetuous young lady here," 
 touching Amelia, " and a few more quiet, 
 sober folks to meet you; and, remember, I 
 wish it to be a long, happy day, so you must 
 rise with the sun." 
 
 " I am a wretched riser," said Amelia, 
 shrugging her shoulders. 
 
 " One of your bad habits, Amelia, which I 
 hope to cure in time," rejoined Miss Coulson. 
 
110 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " It should be a ' perfect cure' if I had you 
 at c Sunnyside' for a week. I know you rise 
 with the lark, Mr. William. " 
 
 " In winter ?" asked Amelia, with a laugh. 
 
 " No, in summer, Miss Impudence," said 
 Miss Coulson. 
 
 " How did you discover that P" enquired 
 Mr. Gladstone. 
 
 " We were driving through Br aids worth 
 very early, not long since, to catch the 
 Halifax mail. It was not six o'clock, and I 
 saw you standing at your foundry gate, watch- 
 iug the workmen going in. See, they are 
 forming a quadrille." 
 
 " What ! the workmen ?" interrupted 
 Amelia. 
 
 " Silly girl," laughed Miss Coulson. 
 " Come, let us join them," and she turned 
 away, followed by Amelia. 
 
 Mr. Gladstone did not move; he did not 
 dance ; and somehow he always fell into a 
 reverie after he had been in Agatha Coulson's 
 company. Without being as beautiful as his 
 
THE GLADSTONES. Ill 
 
 sister Kate, or so brilliant in conversation as 
 Amelia Yinen, the ever-varying expression 
 of her fair sweet face had an indescribable 
 charm for him which he did not care to 
 analyse. A profusion of sunny curls shaded 
 a face, the bloom of which came and went as 
 fitfully as the sunshine on an April day, and 
 the gazer was puzzled to decide whether the 
 rose or the lily had the preference, whilst her 
 figure was as lithe and graceful in its taller 
 proportions as that of Kate was small and 
 fairy-like. 
 
 Leaning against the window, Mr. Gladstone 
 thought it pleasant to recall her image as she 
 had looked only a few short minutes before, 
 with the flush of pleasure on her cheek, 
 whilst the tones of her musical voice still 
 vibrated on his senses. ~No one enjoyed plea- 
 sure more keenly than himself; the more 
 keenly, perhaps, because it lifted him for a 
 brief space above the stern reality of that life 
 which seemed to be darkening so rapidly 
 round him. 
 
112 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 After a time lie perceived a movement 
 amidst the various groups, as if some fresh 
 amusement had been proposed. Alfred Yinen 
 walked to one of the windows that opened to 
 the ground, and throwing it up led Frances 
 Gladstone out upon the moonlit lawn. 
 
 " A walk by moonlight ! What a delightful 
 notion I" Mr. Gladstone exclaimed, as moving 
 forward he perceived Miss Coulson sitting on 
 a couch by herself. 
 
 " The night is so very mild, Miss Agatha, 
 that I don't think it possible you can catch 
 cold," he said, as he offered her his arm, 
 which she took with the prettiest pleased smile 
 imaginable. 
 
 The Rectory garden looked beautiful in the 
 soft, mellow light, and both William and his 
 companion felt its full influence as they 
 rambled, now in light and now in shade, 
 through the grounds, talking gaily and plea- 
 santly of the fete Agatha intended giving the 
 following week. 
 
 Agatha was an heiress, and " Sunny side," 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 113' 
 
 which she would become mistress of in about 
 twelve months, was worth nearly two thou- 
 sand a-year. 
 
 " Was Miss Gladstone too great an invalid 
 to come ; and could she not be coaxed to 
 venture as far as £ Sunnyside' next Tues- 
 day ?" she asked. 
 
 Her companion said he could not tell; but 
 would try and persuade her, if her presence 
 would give pleasure to their old friends. 
 
 Agatha said she was sure Mrs. Coulson 
 would be delighted, and, for herself, she loved 
 all his sisters. 
 
 William thought how pleasant it was to 
 listen to her soft, silvery voice, as she talked 
 on, passing from one topic to another, with a 
 grace that was all her own. 
 
 " You will see a great improvement at 
 6 Sunnyside ' since you were there last. The 
 vines have quite covered the porch, and the 
 sycamore tree on the lawn now throws a shade 
 all the way to the dining-room window ; but I 
 fear mamma has faded a little of late," she 
 
114 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 said, and a tone of sadness mingled itself with 
 her voice. 
 
 "I fear Mrs. Coulson exerts herself too much 
 in visiting the poor people down in the village.'* 
 
 A sweet smile swept over his companion's 
 face as he said this. 
 
 " If Miss Gladstone comes on Tuesday, we 
 shall insist on keeping her a few days. Much 
 company exhausts mamma, but the companion- 
 ship of a friend like your sister always cheers 
 her." 
 
 William thanked her again, and then she 
 ran on with great volubility about the persons 
 she would invite for Tuesday, and presently, 
 before they were aware of it, they were in the 
 midst of a group, who, led on by Kate and 
 William Wilding, were actually dancing on 
 the lawn. Agatha was too much an object of 
 attraction to be allowed to remain an idle 
 spectator, and Mr. Donald Lane, a dashing 
 young squire, took her off before William was 
 scarcely aware that she had relinquished his 
 arm. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 115 
 
 At no great distance there was a cool, 
 shady walk, to which he strolled, and, with his 
 hands folded behind him, fell into a delicious 
 dream, in which Agatha was the leading actor. 
 How genial would a home be with such a wife, 
 where with a nice ordered regularity every 
 day would have its appointed duties, and where 
 they could read together his favourite books by 
 the cheerful fire in winter, or ramble over hill 
 and dale in the summer evening. There are 
 few who indulge not in anticipations of this 
 sort, and there are fewer still whose minds 
 such reflections do not purify from the atmos- 
 phere of selfishness with which they would 
 otherwise be surrounded. 
 
 Mr. Grladstone had not the slightest notion 
 how long he had continued in dream-land, 
 until he was suddenly awakened by his sister 
 Kate coming suddenly up to him, saying that 
 the whole party were going into supper. 
 Taking his arm, she led him into the house. 
 
 Miss Coulson was already seated near the 
 head of the table, too completely hemmed in 
 
116 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 by the hungry dancers for him to have a 
 chance of getting a seat near her, even if he 
 could by any means dispose of Kate. The 
 latter, however, soon found someone to talk 
 with, leaving her brother at liberty to amuse 
 himself in any way that pleased him. 
 
 " I understand Miss Coulson is to be 
 married in the winter," said a gentleman at 
 his elbow ; " she has a handsome fortune, you 
 know ?" 
 
 William gave himself a shake, and stam- 
 mered out a confession of his ignorance on 
 both points. 
 
 " Do you know the name of the gentleman 
 to whom Miss Coulson is en^a^ed ?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " A clergyman in the West or South, I 
 believe," replied his companion, " a distant 
 relative of some sort." 
 
 A jealous pang touched William Gladstone's 
 heart as he listened to the explanation. The 
 next moment an incredulous smile came over 
 his, before, stern face, as he ventured to ex- 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 117 
 
 press his doubts of the accuracy of such a 
 rumour. 
 
 " I uever heard that Miss Coulson had any 
 relatives, except her mother; if she has, I 
 think my sisters and I should have heard of 
 them some time or other during our very long 
 intimacy." 
 
 "You, perhaps, have equal misgivings as to 
 her fortune, sir ?" said the other, in a some- 
 what sarcastic tone. 
 
 " On that point I have never made enquiry," 
 said William, curtly. " I believe, however, 
 Miss Coulson is entitled to be considered a 
 Yorkshire heiress." 
 
 "Oh! indeed; your great intimacy, sir, 
 has probably informed you of that fact," re- 
 joined the other, with a sneer. 
 
 William smiled with phlegmatic unconcern. 
 Petty malice, such as the other betrayed, 
 rarely disturbed his well-regulated mind, and 
 as he rose from table, he encountered his 
 sisters, promenading down the room, with 
 Agatha between them. 
 
118 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " Kate and Frances have both promised to 
 come to 'Sunnyside' on Tuesday," said 
 Agatha, with much vivacity. 
 
 " And you must not disappoint us, William," 
 rejoined Kate, with one of her most beseech- 
 ing looks. 
 
 " You need not disturb yourself," said 
 Frances, in her quiet manner, " I will promise 
 to bring him safely out." 
 
 "It would punish you all properly," he 
 laughingly retorted, " if I did not go." 
 
 They went into the drawing-room again, 
 where a few of the ladies had re-assembled, 
 whilst the majority were preparing to depart. 
 
 Agatha sat down on a sofa near which Mr. 
 Gladstone was standing, whilst Kate and 
 Frances were putting on their shawls and 
 bonnets. 
 
 " Dr. Yinen tells me," she said, " fever 
 has broken out in Braids worth." 
 
 " I regret to say it has," rejoined William. 
 
 "Is it of a very malignant description ?" 
 she asked. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 119 
 
 " I fear it is." 
 
 " Do you think it likely to spread ?" she 
 enquired, anxiously. 
 
 " Yes, unfortunately there is scarcely any 
 employment for the working people, and I 
 have always found when they are poorly fed 
 they are more liable to disease than when 
 work is plentiful and they are enabled to ob- 
 tain proper nourishment." 
 
 As he said this he watched his companion's 
 intelligent and beautiful face, and was gratified 
 to find it assumed a sorrowful expression. 
 
 "However," he said, the next moment, "we 
 have made excellent sanitary arrangements, 
 to be enforced by a visiting committee, besides 
 taking other steps to endeavour to stay the 
 scourge as far as human means can do. The 
 rest we must leave in the hands of Grod." 
 
 " I hope you will not run unnecessary risks, 
 for your life is of the utmost importance to 
 your sisters, and — " 
 
 " To whom else ?" he asked, with an ap- 
 parent carelessness. 
 
120 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 Miss Coulscm began to pick her bouquet in 
 pieces as she answered — 
 
 "To very many ; to — your workmen — 
 to—" 
 
 Mr. Gladstone both looked and felt gratified. 
 At that moment, wrapped up as carefully as 
 if about to brave the regions of a Lapland 
 winter, his sisters approached them. 
 
 Miss Coulson kissed them both, saying — 
 
 " Don't forget Tuesday, and mind you all 
 come very early" 
 
 Then, holding out her hand to William, 
 bade him good-night. 
 
 The charm of her presence did not end with 
 the leave-taking. The gentleman was silent 
 and abstracted for more than half the way 
 home, until he was aroused from his dreams 
 by something that Frances said concerning 
 Miss Coulson. 
 
 " Miss Coulson !" he echoed, on catching 
 the name ; " be good enough, my dear 
 Frances, to repeat what you were saying 
 about her." 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 121 
 
 " My dear brother, I have asked the ques- 
 tion thrice already," she said, rather im- 
 patiently. 
 
 " You know how absent I am sometimes," 
 he said, laughing. 
 
 " Did you hear that she was engaged and 
 about to be married ?" asked Frances, who 
 was making her own observations on his un- 
 usual manner. 
 
 " Yes, I did hear something about it," he 
 replied, so carelessly that his sister was quite 
 deceived, "to a clergyman, I understand." 
 
 "Yes; I wonder we should never have 
 heard of it till to-night." 
 
 " You forget how little you have been at 
 'Sunnyside' of late," he said. "You have 
 not seen Miss Coulson for months ; and she 
 lives so secluded a life that people about here 
 have almost forgotten her." 
 
 " I should say, William, that Agatha Coul- 
 son is a person that no one could forget," 
 observed Frances. 
 
 " I quite agree with you," rejoined her 
 
 VOL. i. G 
 
122 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 brother, emphatically ; " she would make any 
 man an admirable wife — equally good with 
 yourself, Frances," he said, affectionately. 
 
 cc I wonder who this clergyman is," observed 
 Kate. 
 
 " I cannot tell. I never heard of any rela- 
 tive she had in either the west or the south," 
 rejoined her brother. 
 
 " Nor I ; neither can I imagine Agatha sub- 
 siding into a parson's wife." 
 
 " Why not ?" demanded her brother. 
 
 cc I think she is too energetic to be happy 
 in such a quiet sphere ; she would, in fact, 
 prefer to be united to a man who had more 
 active duties than those of a clergyman." 
 
 " My dear girl, a clergyman's sacred office 
 is the highest and noblest a good man can 
 fill ; he is the king of his little flock, as were 
 the patriarchs of old./' 
 
 " You misunderstand me, William ; Agatha 
 has not the temperament that would permit 
 her to be happy with such a lot before her ; 
 take yourself, for instance." 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 123 
 
 "Well." 
 
 " Your business gives you the opportunity 
 of conferring happiness or misery on numerous 
 families to whom you give employment ; with 
 moderate good fortune, in ordinary times, you 
 might acquire for yourself power that would 
 place at your disposal the happiness of hundreds. 
 Agatha would assist one situate as you are in 
 such a work, and with such a man would be 
 perfectly happy. Now don't laugh, William, 
 for I am right. I have studied Miss Coulson 
 thoroughly, and that is the conclusion at 
 which I have arrived. If she marries this 
 gentleman I tremble for her." 
 
 " Suppose, then, Frances," said her brother, 
 earnestly, " we tell her all this on Tuesday ; 
 we will forewarn her of the stagnant misery 
 she will embrace in being the wife of an ex- 
 cellent worthy man, but who has the present 
 misfortune to be a clergyman, and that her 
 only chance of happiness lies in uniting her- 
 self with some poor wretch of a manufacturer 
 
 g 2 
 
124 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 who scarcely knows how to make ends meet, 
 and on that score one William Gladstone 
 would be a very eligible individual. Well, will 
 that do ?" 
 
 " Nonsense, William." 
 
 " Nonsense, Frances," echoed her brother, 
 laughing. "No, no, my dear girl, let Agatha 
 Coulson mate herself where she pleases, for 
 it's no business of ours." 
 
 " She will never be happy, I am certain," 
 said Frances. 
 
 " Pho ! pho ! you absurd child ; a sensible 
 person will be happy in any situation in life, 
 and placed at the head of a pleasant country 
 parish, Agatha Coulson will deserve her fate 
 if she cannot extract happiness from her lot. 
 I'm afraid Sophy will not be able to make one 
 of the party to Sunny side." 
 
 " Poor, dear Sophy," said Frances, affection- 
 ately ; " how cheerfully she bears her heavy 
 burden. Summer and winter fulfil their 
 course in vain for her. I think, brother, I 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 125 
 
 should very soon die if I could not imbibe the 
 bracing air of October, and the balmy 
 brightness of June." 
 
 "And so should I, Frances," rejoined her 
 brother. " No one ought utterly to despair 
 until the glories of summer, and the wild 
 sublimities of winter are a sealed book to him; 
 and yet, with her books and flowers, poor 
 Sophy is yery happy." 
 
 " Thank Grod that we can make her so," 
 rejoined Frances, solemnly, " and may He 
 grant that we may always be enabled to afford 
 her these simple luxuries. Years hence, when 
 you and Kate have little children about your 
 knees, Aunt Frances, a happy old maid, will 
 live in some retired cottage near you, tending 
 the fragile and happy invalid whose sad mis- 
 fortune arose from the love she bore the child 
 Frances years before. It was not until our 
 dear mother was on her death-bed she ever 
 trusted me with the secret she had so long 
 kept locked in her own breast." 
 
 " But Sophy knew it." 
 
126 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " She did William ; but with that noble,, 
 self-denial she always displays, she never 
 breathed a hint to any of us. Our beloved 
 mother made me promise that Sophia should 
 always be near me, during our mutual life- 
 time." 
 
 " It was a terrible accident," said William, 
 after a pause, in a hushed voice. " The poor 
 pony, half mad with terror, flying towards the 
 frightful precipice with you, a shrieking child, 
 upon its back, and Sophy, a bold, brave girl, 
 dragged over hedge and ditch by the bridle, 
 without strength to stay its mad career, 
 our mother fainting with terror — and our 
 father — " 
 
 " Thank God that his botanising inclination 
 brought him to the spot at such a critical 
 moment," said Frances, more than usually 
 agitated." " Oh ! William, how in such inci- 
 dents Providence displays His power." 
 
 "True, indeed, dear Frances," said her 
 brother. 
 
 " I never understood till our mother was 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 127 
 
 on her death-bed," said Frances, more cheer- 
 fully, " the reason Sophy was so looked up 
 to, and almost reverenced by our parents ; it 
 was more like the dutiful homage a pupil 
 pays to a beloved preceptor, than the affection 
 of parents to a favourite child." 
 
 " But when you knew all," added William, 
 " you could not surely wonder, Frances, that 
 Sophy should receive so much attention." 
 
 " Certainly not ; and as her misfortune 
 happened through me, I am doubly bound to 
 her service. How very much Kate and 
 William Wilding loiter behind," Frances said. 
 
 " I hear them at the gate," rejoined her 
 brother, as he walked leisurely up the field to 
 "The Rookery." "There's Sophy's lamp 
 burning in the little dressing-room." 
 
 " She is sitting near the window, looking 
 for us," said Frances, whose keen sight de- 
 tected the small, slight figure thrown into 
 strong relief by the lamp burning on the table 
 behind. " I desired Hannah to place plants 
 
128 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 on the window ledge that she might see them 
 early in the morning." 
 
 " I wish Kate was as thoughtful," said 
 William, who had often tried, but in vain, to 
 curb Kate's light-hearted gaiety. " The more 
 I say to her, however, the worse she seems to 
 get." 
 
 She certainly did; as most high-spirited 
 young women will, when spoken to in the 
 blunt manner William used towards his merry 
 sister. As long as he remained in the room 
 Kate's spirits rose to a most exuberant pitch, 
 but when her brother left the apartment she 
 would steal to her own room, and sob bitterly 
 with vexation. 
 
 Miss Gladstone received them with her 
 usual gentle welcome. 
 
 " Did you not think us very long absent ?" 
 asked Frances, pulling off her bonnet. 
 
 " Not at all. I had a very pleasant com- 
 panion in the ' Edinburgh,' " said Sophia. 
 " Will not William Wilding come in ?" 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 129 
 
 " He went away directly lie saw me enter 
 the house," said Kate, sitting down upon a 
 couch and fanning herself with her handker- 
 chief; then, after a pause, " I think Agatha 
 Coulson a far more charming girl than Amelia 
 Yinen, Frances ; don't you ?" 
 
 "Was Agatha Coulson of your party?" 
 asked Miss Gladstone. 
 
 " Yes ; and has invited us all to go to 
 Sunnyside on Tuesday," added Kate, with 
 her very light-hearted laugh, " and you to go 
 with us. You must try to feel well enough 
 to join us, Sophy." 
 
 G 5 
 
130 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The child was still lying on its mother's 
 knees when William Crisp returned from his 
 long, weary walk. He was both faint and 
 hungry, and ill at heart as well. His first act 
 was to go up to where his wife was sitting, 
 patient and wretched in her grief, listening to 
 those around, prescribing for poor little 
 Jessie ; but it was easy enough to see that 
 she was alike insensible to everything but 
 the one dear object that was breathing out its 
 little life in her arms. 
 
 " I scarcely thought to find the poor, dear 
 child alive, 5 ' said William, in a husky voice ; 
 " sweet lamb, how heavy her breathing is." 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 131 
 
 " Herb tea is the best thing you can give 
 the poor child," said one of the neighbours. 
 
 " With a few snails steeped in it," said a 
 second. 
 
 " My bairn shall drink none of such stuff," 
 growled Crisp." " Sarah, my lass, step down 
 to thy aunt Salmon and ask her to come up ; 
 and now, my friends, it's drawing on to the 
 time ye should all be in bed, for most of you 
 have work to do in the morning." 
 
 Several voices were heard indignantly re- 
 fusing to go to bed, whilst they " could do a 
 neighbour a good turn in any way." 
 
 " It doesn't signify," retorted Crisp, wax- 
 ing wrath, " I don't want you in my house, 
 so good night all of ye," and in a few minutes 
 he saw the house cleared of his zealous, but 
 unwelcome, guests. 
 
 Crisp's tea was still hot on the hob. He 
 had been so sick with alternate hopes and 
 fears at Chilworth, that his appetite had en- 
 tirely failed him, notwithstanding all the 
 country dainties which his sister-in-law had 
 
132 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 placed before him with such lavish prodi- 
 gality. Now, however, he felt so faint and 
 thirsty, that he was thankful that Sarah's 
 forethought had prompted her to put it aside 
 for him. 
 
 " Give Jessie to me a bit, my lass," he said, 
 after he had finished his tea. " Poor dear ; 
 we little thought she would be stricken so 
 soon." 
 
 Mrs. Crisp kissed the little pale cheek, as 
 she placed the sufferer in her husband's arms. 
 
 " She moaned so in bed," she said, in a 
 whisper, that " I hadn't the heart to keep her 
 there any longer." 
 
 " Poor child ! Death wrestles hard with 
 her," he rejoined, with sadness. 
 
 "Yes ; some undergo greater suffering 
 than others," said Mrs. Crisp. 
 
 " I'm thankful the two boys are out of 
 harm's way." 
 
 " How did you find my brother and his 
 good wife ? " she asked, after a lengthened 
 pause, during which the heavy breathing of 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 133 
 
 the child was the only sound that broke the 
 stillness of the room. 
 
 " Quite hearty, and very busy stacking and 
 mowing. That farming is a wonderful thing ! 
 You used to be a good hand at hay-making." 
 
 " I was once, William," said his wife, with 
 a sickly smile. 
 
 " I've often grieved, my dear love, that I 
 ever took you from your happy home," pur- 
 sued Crisp, with a deep-drawn sigh, " this 
 nasty, close room must have looked heavy and 
 dull, after pleasant Chilworth." 
 
 With a half- smothered cry, the wife arose, 
 and flung her arms around his neck, kissing 
 his forehead and lips with a fervour that told 
 him how needless were his fears. 
 
 " I must have made you a very repining 
 wife, if you could harbour such thoughts of 
 me," she said, sitting down beside the child. 
 
 " Say no more, my lass," rejoined William, 
 as Sarah returned with Mrs. Salmon. 
 
 " How's your husband, Bess ?" 
 
 " Only middling, William, thank' ee," said 
 
134 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 Mrs. Salmon, taking off her bonnet. " Eh, 
 dear, how shocking bad I tnrned when Sarah, 
 poor body, came down our path, with the 
 news that my precious one there had taken 
 the fever." 
 
 " And shocking bad she is," said the father, 
 in a low voice. " I have just been telling 
 my poor woman that I have but little hope of 
 her struggling through with it." 
 
 " Well, it's a great consolation that a young, 
 innocent thing like that cannot have com- 
 mitted sin," said Mrs. Salmon, throwing in a 
 word by way of comforting the sorrowing 
 parents. " I suppose, William, the doctor 
 has seen her ?" 
 
 " Hours ago," rejoined William. " Sarah, 
 you and your mother had better go to bed, as 
 you must both be fairly worn out. Bess and 
 I will take it by turns to sit up with the 
 bairn." 
 
 " I cannot go to bed, William," said his 
 wife, who was watching every movement of 
 the suffering child with deep earnestness. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 135 
 
 " Let Bess and me sit up. I'm sure you want 
 rest, after such a walk as you have had." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense, Mary," retorted her hus- 
 band, obstinately. 
 
 " You must — " 
 
 " Must," cried the husband, " am I master 
 in this house, or art thou?" 
 
 "You, certainly, William." 
 
 " Then, I order both you and Sarah to go 
 to bed. When you're gone I'll get a wink or 
 two of sleep ; but a poor, ailing body like you 
 must not be deprived of sleep." 
 
 She seemed to submit, for she did not per- 
 sist further ; but kissing Jessie's white 5 . 
 shrivelled lips, suffered herself to be led away 
 to bed by her daughter, who would willingly 
 have sat up with Mrs. Salmon if she had 
 dared ; but her father's resolution prevented 
 her venturing to suggest such an arrange- 
 ment. 
 
 " Poor little thing !" said the father, with a 
 rough sort of tenderness, after his wife and 
 daughter had left the room, " she seems very 
 
136 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 uneasy, and I think, Bess, we must try and 
 get her into the crib again." 
 
 " Sarah told me as we came along how 
 very restless poor Jessie had been, and that 
 you had been obliged to take her up," said 
 Mrs. Salmon, who was busy making some 
 barley-water by the fire. " However, we can 
 try, and it's only taking her up again if she 
 won't take to it." 
 
 " Light a candle then, and come up with 
 me ; make no noise, or we shall have Mary 
 here as;ain." 
 
 When they placed her in her crib, the little 
 hands folded, as they had been made to do 
 from infancy, and Jessie's weak, childish voice 
 was heard repeating the simple prayer her 
 mother had taught her. 
 
 " Sing, Sarah dear," she said the next 
 moment, as she caught a glimpse of her aunt, 
 who, in the dim light, she mistook for her 
 sister. 
 
 After a short pause Jessie continued — 
 
 " Now, Sarah dear, let me lay my hot cheek 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 137 
 
 on your breast, for I'm very weary," mur- 
 mured the child, holding out her little hands 
 to the dark figure she saw before her. 
 
 " Let her have her will," whispered the 
 father; "lie down beside her, Bess, and let 
 her put her poor little head on thy breast, as 
 she wishes." 
 
 Mrs. Salmon took to her bosom the fevered 
 head that lay tossing on the uneasy pillow. 
 
 Jessie then seemed to sink into a placid 
 slumber, murmuring at intervals the names of 
 Sarah and her brother Tom, who was her 
 particular favourite. A lock of Mrs. Salmon's 
 black hair had got loose from the ribbon that 
 tied it up, and this the child held in her little 
 thin hand, as she slumbered on her bosom. 
 
 " You had better go and lie down, William, 
 I think," said Mrs. Salmon, in a whisper , "the 
 bairn is dreaming away, poor little dear, and 
 you can do no good sitting here." 
 
 " I'm getting a bit drowsy," said Crisp, 
 " and if thou'lt promise to call me between 
 
138 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 twelve and one o'clock, I'll go and lay down 
 on the lads' bed." 
 
 She gave the required promise, and William 
 crept away. Another hour stole on, and still 
 the child slept. The time would have seemed 
 long to any one but Mrs. Salmon, for the still- 
 ness of the room and the gloomy feelings the 
 time naturally induced was sufficient to weary 
 most people. The good, honest creature, 
 however, cared for none of these; it was 
 sufficient that the child slept, and painful as 
 was the position she was compelled to remain 
 in, she would have lain there till morning had 
 it been requisite. 
 
 After a time Mrs. Salmon caught a sound 
 of something stirring on the stairs without, 
 and she felt very frightened for a moment as 
 the thought struck her that it was probably 
 Fanny, who she knew had not been at home 
 since the morning. Mrs. Salmon really feared 
 Fanny, whose haughty disposition she could 
 not at all understand, and she felt half in- 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 139 
 
 clined to call up Crisp. Then the thought 
 that by so doing she would arouse Jessie, 
 struck her, and she remained quiet and lis- 
 tened. 
 
 It was fortunate that she did so, for the 
 door was softly opened the next moment, and 
 something white and tall, like a ghost, came 
 in. 
 
 " Oh ! Mary, how you frightened me," she 
 said in a whisper, on seeing it was Mrs. Crisp. 
 "I could think o' nothing but that it was 
 Fanny coming in. I hope you don't intend 
 staying out of your warm bed." 
 
 The mother went up to her child, and Bess 
 saw her thin, blue lips move as she caught the 
 placid smile that seemed to rest like a shadow 
 upon the wasted cheek. 
 
 " I must watch with you, Bess," she said, 
 with an energy totally new to her. "I re- 
 mained in bed till poor Sarah was sound 
 asleep, and then I got up and came here, for 
 I cannot sleep ; I will be very quiet, and you 
 must not tell William." 
 
140 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 The poor thing clasped her pale, trembling 
 hands with such an imploring look that Mrs. 
 Salmon could not have refused for the world. 
 
 " But you must be off again before he gets 
 up," said Bess, after a pause. " He ordered 
 me to call him at one o'clock." 
 
 " 'Tis a long time till then," said Mrs. 
 Crisp in her quiet tone. " I will do every- 
 thing you wish me ; and now tell me honestly 
 — do you think the bairn will live ?" 
 
 Mrs. Salmon was thankful that the poor 
 mother could not feel the fevered cheek that 
 was at that moment lying on her own breast. 
 She looked wistfully at the pale face that ap- 
 peared so unearthly amidst the white garments 
 Mary Crisp wore, and her heart smote her so 
 that she could not say the words she knew to 
 be the truth. 
 
 " Don't kill me outright, Bess," said the 
 poor creature, whose eyes shone with a wild 
 light, and whose pale cheeks flushed hectic as 
 she spoke ; " something tells me that I am a 
 dying woman." 
 
THE GLADSTONES, 141 
 
 "Whisht! Mary, love." 
 
 She shook her head, and one heart-rending 
 sob burst from her as she said — 
 
 " I once thought how pleasant it would be 
 in one's old age to have one's bairns about 
 one's knee, and to live out the bit remnant of 
 life with William, near where one was born ; 
 but that's all passed and gone, and I only 
 wish now for the quiet rest in Braidsworth 
 churchyard. If it wasn't for the bairns, Bess, 
 I would pray to God to take me this very 
 night." 
 
 " Mary, you shock me," said Mrs. Salmon, 
 quite aghast at such language ; "it's posi- 
 tively wicked." 
 
 " God forgive me if it is," she said, in her 
 quiet despair. " I have been sorely afflicted ; 
 but I'm travelling fast to a country where 
 there will be no more sorrow nor want ; but 
 the poor bairns trouble my spirit sadly. That 
 poor, sickly thing on thy breast, Bess, and 
 Tommy and Bobby are all so young; and 
 then when I'm down in sickness sometimes in 
 
142 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 bed I cry for hours, thinking that William's 
 dread of losing work will some day come to 
 pass ; and then — then what will become of 
 them when I'm gone ?" 
 
 Her tears were falling like an April shower 
 now, and Mrs. Salmon was thankful that they 
 did, for it would do her good. She let her 
 cry for a considerable time without offering 
 to stop her, and then she said — 
 
 " Mary, did it never strike you that other 
 poor folks love their children as well as thou ?" 
 
 Mrs. Crisp lifted her head with a bewildered 
 and sorrowful look, as if she did not under- 
 stand what was said. 
 
 "Just think of me," said Bess, quietly; 
 " my good man is a poor, weakly creature, 
 that can scarcely do a good day's work if he 
 can get it ; and that's a terrible drawback to 
 a wife with ten bairns. You have only four, 
 and a strong, steady husband to work for 
 them into the bargain." 
 
 Mary raised herself, but did not speak. 
 Bess went on more boldly — 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 143 
 
 6 ' As to any harm coming to the poor things, 
 that's what none of us will allow for a single 
 instant, so you may safely put that sorrow 
 aside. Sarah is a good, tidy lass, with a 
 steady, sober way with her that would do 
 credit to any woman twice her age, and she 
 could keep her father's house as tidy and 
 lightsome as yourself or anyone else ; so you 
 needn't fret yourself about that part of the 
 business." 
 
 " But the lads, Bess ?" 
 
 " They will earn their bread in due time. 
 Is that Crisp stirring?" 
 
 " God forbid ! it cannot be one o'clock yet," 
 whispered Mrs. Crisp, standing up and listen- 
 ing. 
 
 " It can't be very far short on't. You had 
 better go to bed, there's a good creature," 
 said Mrs. Salmon, in a coaxing way. 
 
 " If you don't think he'll be coming yet, I'd 
 rather not," said her companion, in a pleading 
 manner. 
 
 "He cannot be long now, and he'll be 
 
144 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 dreadfully angered, if lie finds you here, Mary," 
 said the other in an earnest manner. " Come, 
 come, kiss the dear child and go to bed at 
 once, there's a dear." 
 
 The mother suffered herself to be persuaded, 
 and, heaving another sigh, she stole away in 
 her white dress to her bed again. 
 
 " Poor thing ! I wonder how she can live 
 with such ideas eating away her life," thought 
 the kind-hearted watcher, as William Crisp 
 stole into the room a few minutes after his 
 wife had left. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 145 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A trouble hard to bear lay heavy on Sarah's 
 spirit during Jessie's sickness, that neither 
 her father nor mother, completely immersed 
 as they were in anxiety for the life of their 
 sick child during that mournful period, had 
 time to think about. 
 
 Fanny had left her home on the morning 
 Jessie was taken ill, and from what had 
 dropped from the neighbours she encountered 
 on her errands, and from another source which 
 we shall mention presently, Sarah feared 
 greatly that she had gone away in some one's 
 company. What surprised the poor girl more 
 than all the rest was, that Miss Thorne had 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
146 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 not sent to enquire after her ; and this cir- 
 cumstance, trifling as it was, gave Sarah 
 courage to hope that Fanny, anxious to spare 
 the trouble she gave at such a time, or afraid 
 of infection, had taken a lodging in Bradford, 
 and was still working at the dress-making. 
 
 This hope, however, slight as it was, was 
 dispelled two nights afterwards in the follow- 
 ing manner : — The mother of Harry Jobson, 
 whom William Crisp acknowledged to be 
 " making up to " his daughter Sarah in his 
 interview with Mr. Gladstone, had come down 
 from the far end of the village, partly to see 
 if she could render any assistance to the 
 Crisps in their hour of trouble, and partly to 
 have a gossip with Sarah herself, the latter 
 being her especial favourite. Sarah was in 
 the kitchen alone, Mrs. Crisp and a neigh- 
 bour being upstairs with Jessie during her 
 husband's absence, and there was a bright 
 gleam in her eye for a moment as she saw 
 Harry's mother pass the window and open 
 the door. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 147 
 
 "You're kindly welcome, Mrs. Jobson," 
 she said warmly, as her visitor kept rubbing 
 her feet on the door mat. " Don't be afeared 
 about making a little dirt, but come in at once 
 and sit down." 
 
 " Thank' ee, Sarah, dear ; but I don't like 
 to make dirt on such a tidy floor," rejoined 
 Mrs. Jobson, sitting down. " How is poor 
 little Jessie to-night ?" 
 
 " Oh ! only very middling," was Sarah's 
 mournful answer, as she kept rubbing a plate 
 she had been washing, whilst an odd bashful- 
 ness seemed to have taken possession of her 
 all of a sudden ; " indeed, Mrs. Jobson, it's 
 a sore trial for us all." 
 
 " It is one we have all to bear," sighed Mrs. 
 Jobson, who, being a widow, had had her own 
 troubles ; " and where are the two lads ?" 
 
 "At Chilworth." 
 
 " "When did they go ?" 
 
 " Father took them away at once, for fear 
 they should take the fever." 
 
 h 2 
 
148 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " And left you alone, my dear, to run the 
 risk of infection." 
 
 " I couldn't leave mother, so ill as she is, 
 with Jessie to nurse,'' said Sarah, somewhat 
 indignantly. " Father never thought of my 
 going, I'm certain." 
 
 " There was another that did though, 
 Sarah," said Mrs. Jobson, significantly ; " one 
 that never seems to have had a wink of sleep 
 ever since Jessie took ill, for fear you would 
 catch fever too." 
 
 Sarah blushed a bright scarlet, and in a 
 moment after grew pale again, as she said — 
 
 " I'm sorry that anyone should disturb 
 themselves so about me, Mrs. Jobson." 
 
 " That you are not, Sarah," retorted the 
 other, with a smile ; " and no wonder he 
 frets, with his sweetheart in such danger. 
 Harry is a fine, noble fellow, my lass, and 
 she'll be a happy woman that gets him for a 
 husband, and he'll be a lucky fellow that weds 
 my bonny Sarah, too." 
 
 "Mother," said Sarah, using a term of 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 149 
 
 endearment she had often applied in child- 
 hood to old Mrs. Jobson, just as Harry used 
 to call William Crisp father, " I don't deserve 
 your Harry ; and I think it would be a hard 
 thing for anyone to step in between him and 
 you, who have had the up-bringing of him." 
 
 " Yes, Sarah, it's a bitter thing for a mother 
 to see her son, that she has brought into the 
 world with so much sorrow, and that has had 
 so many sleepless nights and weary days about 
 him, leave the home that has sheltered him 
 from his birth, and all for the glances of some 
 bright eye or painted cheeks, and sorely should 
 I fret if that was all my Harry looked to ; 
 but, thank God ! he thinks of something above 
 that, and next to the girl he makes his wife, 
 I'm quite certain he thinks of making his old 
 mother's last years easy." 
 
 " It is," said Sarah, abstractedly. 
 
 " And that is what Harry always tells me, 
 after he's been courting a bit, my dear," said 
 the old woman more cheerfully. " You know 
 what a steady lad Harry is." 
 
150 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " Yes, mother." 
 
 " And you should see the beautiful chest of 
 drawers he's been making in his odd hours, 
 Sarah," said her companion, totally forgetting, 
 in her anxiety to plead her son's cause, 
 that same chest of drawers was to be kept a 
 profound secret from Sarah, until the happy 
 day she was led a bride across her husband's 
 doorstep, if that should ever happen, " all 
 inlaid, I think he calls it, with bits of ivory 
 and some kind of wood they bring from furrin 
 parts, and a couple of tea trays all green, and 
 blue, and red, with peacocks and temples, and 
 I can't say what besides, painted on them." 
 
 " Mother ! mother ! didn't you promise that 
 you'd never say a word about 'em," said a 
 
 pleasant voice at her elbow, and with a faint 
 scream old Mrs. Jobs on threw her apron over 
 her head, and began to rock herself back- 
 wards and forwards, as if she was in great 
 pain. 
 
 " Don't think anything of what my mother, 
 silly old body that she is, has been telling you, 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 151 
 
 dear Sarah," said the young man, whose silent 
 entry had caused his mother so much shame. 
 " The trifle she was making such a long story 
 about was meant as a pleasant surprise some 
 day if — if — dear Sarah — " and here he came 
 to a dead stop. 
 
 " Won't you sit down a bit, Harry," said 
 Sarah, dusting a chair with an awkward care- 
 lessness, " it's very warm walking, and it's a 
 long way from your house." 
 
 He did not take the seat, but stood leaning 
 against the dresser, watching her flitting to 
 and fro about the fast darkening kitchen with 
 an honest kind of admiration which would 
 have amused an unconcerned spectator. Harry 
 was a good, honest fellow ; he was broad in 
 the chest, limbs strongly knit, a curly head 
 of hair, sparkling eyes, light features, rather 
 frank than handsome, for they were too much 
 sunburnt to deserve the latter epithet, with 
 flesh and muscle enough about him to make 
 half a dozen Manchester weavers. As he had 
 come for the purpose of courting he had 
 
152 THE GLADSTONES." 
 
 dressed himself smartly, with a pair of tight- 
 fitting trousers, which showed off his well- 
 made legs, blue coat and gilt buttons, with a 
 black handkerchief round his neck, tied with 
 a true lover's knot. 
 
 Old Mrs. Jobson, by this time, had gained 
 courage to look up again, and being a quick- 
 witted woman, she saw in an instant that the 
 two young people would get on much better 
 without her, so pretending that she had staid 
 far too long, and that she had to go to the 
 grocer's for some things she wanted, she 
 scarcely took time to bid Sarah good bye 
 before she was gone. 
 
 " Harry," said Sarah, after a considerable 
 silence, during which she had been summon- 
 ing up courage to put the question, " have you 
 heard anything of our Fanny since Tuesday?" 
 
 Harry had, but did not like to tell what he 
 had heard or what he knew, and he took the 
 very worst method he could have hit upon for 
 Sarah's peace of mind. With all his courage 
 and hardihood he was a complete child before 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 153 
 
 the delicate, girlish-looking creature who was 
 standing, with all the bashful artlessness of a 
 simple child before him. The glimpse he 
 caught of her white face, as she spoke the 
 words in a questioning tone, and the wild 
 gleam of her eye, fairly unmanned him. 
 
 " T know without your telling me, Harry," 
 she cried the next moment, in a sorrowful 
 voice, " Fanny has gone away." 
 
 " Only for a short time, Sarah, I believe," 
 said her lover, endeavouring to speak cheer- 
 fully, " she came to me on Tuesday night, 
 and took me aside, for she had another person 
 with her — " 
 
 " A man ?" interrupted Sarah. 
 
 " Yes, and a very good-looking man, 
 dressed quite like a gentleman, and seemingly 
 much above her in station, although Fanny 
 did look quite as grand ; he went a short 
 distance away, though I could see he was 
 watching us like a kite with his keen eyes, 
 and she said — ' Harry, dear, will you give 
 this locket to our Sarah, with my best love ?' 
 
 H 5 
 
154 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 and with which she pulled off a locket, made of 
 silver, that she had hanging round her neck 
 by a piece of ribbon, and put it into my 
 hand." 
 
 Harry produced the said silver locket, 
 which Sarah had frequently seen on Fanny's 
 neck, and placed it on the table before her." 
 
 " And you did not try to stop her, Harry ?" 
 gasped the poor girl, sinking on a seat near 
 her. 
 
 " You may be certain I tried my best, 
 Sarah," said Harry warmly, " and told her 
 what a dreadful fate she was rushing headlong 
 into, and that if she left her home no honest 
 man would look at her afterwards ; then she 
 burst out laughing in my face, and said she 
 merely sent you the bit of a silver thing 
 because she thought it was safer than in the 
 lodging she had taken at Bradford whilst 
 Jessie lay ill of the fever. Then the gentle- 
 man came up and she shook hands with me 
 and said ' Good night,' and she was gone 
 like a flash of lightning." 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 155 
 
 " Oh ! Harry, and did you believe her ?" 
 sobbed Sarah. 
 
 " I did, Sarah, until she was gone, and I 
 found myself standing staring after her, then 
 in a moment the truth flashed upon me, when 
 I remembered the exceedingly wild, unac- 
 countable manner Fanny had with her ; and I 
 ran like mad the road they had gone ; but it 
 was perfectly useless, although I must have 
 run nearly a mile, for I never clapped eyes 
 upon her again." 
 
 Sarah's sobs were the only sounds heard 
 in the room for several minutes ; she did not 
 like to upbraid Harry for his share of the 
 occurrence, and yet, somehow, it appeared 
 to her that he might have prevented Fanny 
 from going away in that strange man's com- 
 pany, if he had tried. 
 
 " Grod help her !" she cried at length, 
 wiping away her tears ; "it was an ill- 
 advised thing to do, and nothing but sorrow 
 will come of it, I'm sure, Harry." 
 
 Harry's thoughts, probably, ran in the same 
 
156 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 direction, although he set himself to the task 
 of endeavouring to comfort poor Sarah, pro- 
 fessing it as his belief that Fanny was really 
 lodging at Bradford as she had said, and if 
 that was the case, of course there was no 
 occasion to fret about her, as she would pro- 
 bably be nearly as comfortable as if she was 
 still with them. 
 
 " I'll soon know if that's the case," said 
 Sarah, with the quick decision she sometimes 
 displayed. " Please God, if Jessie gets 
 better, I'll go to Bradford next week on 
 purpose to ask Miss Thorne about her." 
 
 Mr. Crisp came in at that moment, and 
 gave Harry a kind but mournful greeting. 
 
 " Are you not afeared to come amongst 
 us just now, my lad?" asked he, as he took 
 Harry's hand, " folks are like rats, when a 
 house is going to tumble down, and run away 
 as fast as their legs will carry them." 
 
 "I should be ashamed to do that," said 
 Harry, looking at Sarah. 
 
 " And I'm quite sure, father," added Sarah, 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 157 
 
 putting in her word, " our friends have not 
 been shy in coming to us since Jessie took the 
 fever. Rachel Walker sadly wants to sit up 
 with aunt Salmon, and Harry's mother has 
 just been here to see if she could do anything. 
 Miss Gladstone sent down one of the maids 
 from ' The Rookery,' and Dr. Yinen himself 
 called to-day." 
 
 "Whisht, my lass, or thoul't have run all 
 the parish over in ten minutes," said her 
 father, more cheerfully. " Is there no one 
 but thy mother with Jessie ?" 
 
 " Aunt Salmon has been with her till a very 
 short time ago, and she's gone home to see if 
 any thing had been wanted there during her 
 absence, and will be back again before ten 
 o'clock," said Sarah. 
 
 Harry thought to himself that was a ready 
 way of spreading the infection amongst 
 the large, little family of the Salmons, and 
 that in truth it would be much wiser to have 
 had as little communication as possible carried 
 on between the infected houses and the rest 
 
158 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 of the parish. With very natural short- 
 sightedness, however, he forgot that he ran 
 quite as great risk himself in coming to see 
 Sarah, a pleasnre which he certainly never, 
 for a single instant, thought of denying him- 
 self. 
 
 " How's trade, Harry ?" asked Mr. Crisp, 
 after Sarah had gone upstairs to see how 
 Jessie was. 
 
 " Only middling, I am sorry to say," re- 
 joined the young man ; "all through the 
 country the Union has had complaints sent to 
 it of diminished employment, and of a rise in 
 the price of bread, which is fast bringing the 
 working man to the poor-house. Things are 
 very threatening just now, Mr. Crisp. 
 
 " They are, indeed," said Crisp, gloomily, 
 " and what's worse, my lad, he'd be a clever 
 prophet to be able to say how soon they would 
 mend." 
 
 " What are we to do, then ?" demanded the 
 younger man, his dark eye flashing ; " are we 
 to lie down and starve like dogs on a dung- 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 159 
 
 Trill , or burn machines and factories and hay- 
 ricks and corn-stacks ?" 
 
 " I take it, Harry," returned Crisp, phleg- 
 matically, " God doesn't intend us to do either. 
 We are to wait patiently." 
 
 " And starve patiently," interposed Harry. 
 
 " To wait patiently," continued William, not 
 heeding the interruption, "and calmly, for 
 what He will bring about in His own good 
 time. If it was the fault of the employers, 
 all this want of work, I might talk differently, 
 but they're suffering as badly, aye, and even 
 worse than we are, and it would be madness 
 to turn our hands against those from whom 
 we draw our subsistence." 
 
 " I know that, Mr. Crisp," said Harry. 
 
 " And as to burning the corn-stacks, Harry, 
 would that make bread cheaper ?" 
 
 " No," replied Harry, more quietly. 
 
 " And burning the factories and foundries, 
 would that be the means of giving employ- 
 ment to the workmen ?" continued Crisp. 
 
 " No," cried Harry, "and it would be a 
 
160 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 scandalous shame to endeavour to set the men 
 against the masters." 
 
 " And yet, Harry, some of your union-men 
 are trying." 
 
 " I should like to know who they are, that's 
 all," cried Harry. 
 
 " Wait a bit, my lad, and your wish may 
 be gratified," rejoined Crisp, firmly. " Have 
 your factory hands been put on half time 
 yet ?" 
 
 " No, but it was intimated as much last 
 week. I'm afraid 'twill make mischief with 
 some of the hands." 
 
 " Why should it ? The master is not to 
 blame." 
 
 " Certainly not, but some men are so blinded 
 by their own selfishness that they cannot be 
 induced to believe that it is not the masters' 
 fault," said Harry ; " they complain of the 
 machinery they've introduced in the works, 
 as if it wasn't the grandest thing that was 
 ever discovered." 
 
 " And forget, at the same time," rejoined 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 161 
 
 Crisp, " tliat it is owing to machinery onr 
 business, above every other, is mainly in- 
 debted for its success. But take my advice, 
 Harry, lad, and keep out of the way of these 
 Unionists." 
 
 "Mother wants you, father," said Sarah, 
 as she came down stairs ; and her father 
 hurried away. 
 
 " Well, Sarah, the old woman will be getting 
 anxious for me," said Harry, rising. " I did 
 intend asking you to go to Chilworth Feast 
 with us, little dreaming that poor Jessie would 
 have been taken so ill in the meantime, but if 
 she recovers you may join us yet." 
 
 " Ah ! Harry, we must not talk and plan 
 about our little pleasures when the hand of 
 God seems about to smite us so heavily," said 
 Sarah, in a saddened tone ; " but if you go 
 to Chilworth you will see Tommy and Bobby, 
 poor little things, and be sure you bring me 
 good news back how they're getting on; yes, 
 and be sure you give them my love." 
 
 " That I will, Sarah, with all my heart too, 
 
162 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 but you mustn't look so downcast, dear girl, 
 for there's plenty of time before then for poor 
 little Jessie to get better." 
 
 Sarah shook her head, and gave a deep sigh, 
 as she said — 
 
 " I should have no heart to go this year, 
 Harry." 
 
 " Don't talk so, my dear," said Harry, in a 
 more cheerful voice, " Jessie will get better, 
 and then Fanny will come again." 
 
 " Harry, are you not forgetting all about 
 your mother ?" said Crisp, coming in upon 
 them at the moment, as they stood at the 
 door. " The clock has struck ten, my lad." 
 
 " I am going directly," said the young man, 
 pushing his hat down over his eyes. "Good 
 night, Mr. Crisp, — good night, Sarah," and 
 he was gone. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 163 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 It was Sunday, and William Gladstone really 
 required the rest that the Sabbath brought 
 him, for in addition to his usual duties, 
 which were always onerous enough, the 
 outbreak of fever had brought him a great 
 accession of labour, and that, too, of a very 
 painful as well as perplexing nature. It is 
 rarely an agreeable thing to visit the homes 
 of the labouring classes, notwithstanding all 
 the fine sentiment that has been wasted upon 
 the duty. 
 
 Mr. Gladstone and his coadjutors met with 
 rebuffs enough to have induced them to throw 
 up the task in disgust, had they not had a 
 
164 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 higher purpose in view than the mere grati- 
 cation of their own pleasure. 
 
 They found little actual want, although 
 they met with plenty of poverty and priva- 
 tion, endured with that heroic resolution to 
 hide it from the public eye which so many of 
 our countrymen daily practise, without the 
 world troubling itself in the slightest degree 
 about the matter ; but on all hands their first 
 efforts were repulsed by that dogged dislike 
 to permit a stranger to interfere with their 
 domestic concerns, which really seems — from 
 its universal diffusion — to be an inherent 
 quality in the highest character amongst the 
 working classes. 
 
 Dr. Yinen, in his sermon that day, took the 
 opportunity to revert to the subject that 
 filled the minds of all but the very young 
 children of the parish. He reminded them 
 that life and death were in the hands of 
 Almighty God, and that He could smite 
 whom He chose ; that He made no distinc- 
 tion of persons — the rich and the poor, the 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 165 
 
 young and the old, were equal in His mercies 
 and His chastisements, and that there was for 
 all an appointed time to die, and none could 
 say how soon, or how long his hour would be 
 in coming. Amongst them those whom Pro- 
 vidence had blessed with wealth ought to share 
 it, more especially at such a time, with those 
 who require it, whilst his poorer neighbours 
 should by cleanliness in their households 
 strive to avert the pestilence that was hang- 
 ing over them. 
 
 During the following week, he said, a still 
 more thorough inspection of the parish would 
 be undertaken, and then with a beautiful 
 intercession to Almighty Grod, he dismissed 
 his hearers to their homes. 
 
 A peculiar feeling of solemnity lay on the 
 hearts of William Gladstone and his two 
 sisters as they walked home through the 
 fields, on their way from church, after listen- 
 ing to Dr. Yin en's impressive sermon. Never 
 before had the solemn presence of death been 
 brought home so fully to the actual sense 
 
166 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 of each, not even when their parents lay on 
 their death-beds. Then the ripe corn was 
 being gathered into the garner of the reaper, 
 and though there was much sorrow and many 
 tears, they felt that death in their case was 
 but the coming glory of a long and well-spent 
 life — but a transmission from an earthly to a 
 heavenly existence. 
 
 It was very different on the present occa- 
 sion, when every rank and condition of life — 
 young and old alike — were threatened with 
 attack from a hidden foe ; nay, where youth 
 was peculiarly marked out for sacrifice, as if 
 the gift of that blessed spring time was in 
 the present instance to be turned into a 
 curse. 
 
 The time and the season seemed peculiarly 
 in unison with their feelings. It was one of 
 those still, gloomy days, which come to us 
 occasionally in the very prime of summer, 
 when a dense mass of cloud shuts out the sun 
 without bringing rain with it, and when the 
 noisiest warbler of the fields, the merry sky- 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 167 
 
 lark, seemingly subdued by the stillness of 
 nature, is mute. 
 
 The two girls untied their bonnet-strings, 
 and Kate began to fan herself with her hand- 
 kerchief long before they reached the brow of 
 the hill where a turf seat usually tempted them 
 to sit for a few minutes to rest themselves, 
 and to enjoy the extensive and varied view 
 it afforded of the surrounding country. Kate 
 and William sat down for a few moments, 
 whilst Frances remained standing under the 
 shadow of an elm tree that grew near the 
 seat, almost unconsciously scanning the rich 
 landscape under the unfamiliar aspect it now 
 presented to her eye. 
 
 Stretching away from the base of the hill 
 was presented a long track of level country, 
 dotted here and there with coppices through 
 which a river wound like a silvery line, the 
 mills with their weirs adding another charm to 
 the beauty of the picture ; waving corn fields 
 in all their prodigal wealth of green, and far 
 stretching pastures, where the cattle were 
 
168 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 quietly grazing, filled in the foreground, 
 whilst the distant prospect was bounded by 
 one of those abrupt hills, half crag, half 
 forest, which abound in this part of Yorkshire. 
 
 A deep sigh from Kate drew attention from 
 her two companions. 
 
 " What is the matter ?" asked her brother, 
 quietly, without looking up. 
 
 Kate shuddered and turned crimson as she 
 said — 
 
 " I am very much afraid, brother — " 
 
 " Afraid of what ?" he asked, in a sharper 
 tone. 
 
 " Of the fever," said Kate, in a low voice. 
 " Do not chide me," she added in the childish, 
 yet loving tone she sometimes assumed, and 
 which always disarmed her brother, in spite of 
 himself. "You know that I am a moral 
 coward, and that I tremble and grow pale 
 when Frances, there, would prove herself 
 quite a heroine." 
 
 " Well, Kate," said William, drily, as if he 
 expected she would continue. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 169 
 
 Kate, however, was silent ; the twitchings 
 of her face seemed to betray the uneasiness of 
 her mind, if one might interpret the alterna- 
 tions of distress and terror that passed in such 
 rapid succession over that beautiful and youth- 
 ful mirror. 
 
 " Have you nothing more to say, Kate ?" 
 asked her brother, after a long pause, during 
 which Kate had well nigh worked a hole in 
 her silk glove with twisting it round her 
 finger. " I really am at a loss to understand 
 your wishes." 
 
 " Kate means to say," interposed Frances, 
 gently, "that if it could be managed she 
 would like to leave Braidsworth during the 
 continuance of the fever. Am I not right in 
 my surmise, Kate?" 
 
 " I am afraid so," whispered Kate, without 
 raising her eyes ; "if William would con- 
 sent." 
 
 "William looked anything but pleased, as he 
 said — 
 
 VOL. I. i 
 
170 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " Certainly, Kate, if you wish it;" and, 
 rising, lie took ont his watch, and continued, 
 "We ought to have been home ere this." 
 
 Kate re-tied her bonnet strings, and fol- 
 lowed Frances and her brother in silence, 
 scarcely knowing whether to condemn herself 
 or not for what had passed. One moment 
 she felt it was her duty to remain with the 
 rest of her family at all hazards ; the next, 
 terror took possession of her mind, and she 
 thought it was perfectly reasonable to avoid 
 the danger by going on a visit to a distance, 
 until the fever had abated. 
 
 " Do you also wish to run away, Frances ?" 
 asked her brother, after walking some con- 
 siderable distance. 
 
 " Not if I can be of use at home, William. 
 Perhaps it would be as well if Sophy and 
 Kate were to go to the sea-side for a short 
 time and leave us to ourselves." 
 
 " Not a bad idea," said her brother, quickly. 
 ""We will name it to Sophia when we get 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 171 
 
 home — Kate " (looking back), " would you 
 like to go to Eedcar or Whitby for a few 
 weeks with Sophia ?" 
 
 " Anywhere, William," rejoined Kate more 
 hopefully," wherever you think would best suit 
 Sophia." 
 
 " I think you would be as well at Redcar 
 as anywhere, just now," he remarked, walking 
 on, without noticing her. " We will name it 
 to Sophia after dinner, and hear what she 
 says," and he changed the subject. 
 
 " Look, William, I declare there is Uncle 
 Newman in the garden," said Frances, as they 
 came in sight of * The Rookery.' " Did you 
 expect him ?" 
 
 " Not in the least ; his humour, however, is 
 so uncertain that I am not at all surprised to 
 see him here, even though it be Sunday," re- 
 plied her brother. "Come, he has seen us, so 
 we may as well encounter him at once, girls ;" 
 and William quickened his pace, as the figure 
 of a stout, gaunt old man was seen moving 
 down the garden to meet them. 
 
 i 2 
 
172 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, sir," said the 
 nephew, kindly, on coming within earshot, 
 " especially as I missed you at Bradford on 
 Wednesday." 
 
 Uncle Newman's stern features slightly re- 
 laxed from their frozen grimness, although he 
 did not vouchsafe even one of his wintry 
 smiles in return for this kindly greeting. He 
 was a large, heavy man, apparently between 
 seventy and eighty years of age, with a con- 
 siderable degree of caustic shrewdness and 
 irony in his composition, judging by the pecu- 
 liar expression of the large black eyes and the 
 heavy lines round his mouth. He was some- 
 what deaf, and a trifle bent, which made him 
 look still older than he really was; there was 
 a slight sprinkling of grey hairs about his 
 temples, but though they did not make his 
 face look more venerable, they certainly gave 
 him a most severe cast of countenance. 
 
 " You've been to church, I presume, 
 nephew?" he said, in a harsh, grating voice, 
 after he had patted Kate and Frances on the 
 
THE GLADSTONES, 173 
 
 cheek, with a clumsy kind of tenderness they 
 had been accustomed to all their lives. 
 
 "We have, sir," rejoined the nephew; " in 
 fact, we rarely miss going." 
 
 " Do you think it makes you better ?" asked 
 the old man, with a kind of sneer, which often 
 provoked the nephew. " I always notice that 
 you religious folks turn out the biggest rascals 
 in the long run." 
 
 " That is a severe judgment," answered 
 William, quietly. " I hope and trust, sir, 
 going to church does do us good. This 
 morning, for instance, Doctor Yinen alluded 
 to the fever, which, I am sorry to say, has 
 broken out in the village, and touched upon 
 it in such a beautiful manner, laying down 
 the duty of each person so clearly and so ad- 
 mirably, that I for one felt both comforted 
 and encouraged by his sermon." 
 
 Frances fancied she saw the large under- 
 jaw tremble for a moment, when her brother 
 ceased speaking ; but if the old man was 
 touched at all by what he had heard, he did 
 
174 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 not permit himself to betray it by words, for 
 he merely said — 
 
 " It is the fever, sir, that has brought me 
 out of my house to-day ; but we will discuss 
 that matter after dinner. How soon do you 
 dine?" 
 
 " Immediately, sir ; if you will come into 
 the house, the girls will take off their bonnets, 
 and we will have the dinner brought up at 
 once." 
 
 " Let them go in, and send us word when 
 dinner is quite ready," said Uncle Newman, 
 turning down a side walk. " Nephew, your 
 garden is sadly neglected." 
 
 " "We have all been much engaged lately, 
 sir," pleaded William, following him, " and 
 these warm rains positively make the weeds 
 grow so fast that it is quite impossible to 
 keep up the place quite so neat as one could 
 wish. I should like Godfrey to see those 
 roses before they go out of bloom, if you could 
 spare him, as I think there must be a canker 
 at the roots of some of them." 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 175 
 
 " He will be going to Bradford some day 
 this week, and can call on his way," said the 
 old gentleman, in a more pleasant tone of 
 voice. " How is business, William ?" 
 
 " Nothing to boast of, sir," said the nephew, 
 who was prepared for a regular catechising, 
 " no one dares take a foreign order, unless 
 there is a deposit made beforehand, and that 
 makes orders so few, that a great many 
 masters are scarcely able to employ their 
 workpeople." 
 
 " A pretty state of things, truly," said the 
 old man, with much bitterness. " In my time, 
 nephew, we were quite independent of these 
 beggarly foreigners altogether, and things 
 went pleasantly on without them." 
 
 William could have told him there had been 
 a great revolution in many things since his time, 
 that the long, protracted war had fostered in 
 an extraordinary degree the cutlery trade, 
 and now that the war had ceased, one of their 
 best sources of industry had been closed, 
 
176 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 whilst no fresh channel had as yet been opened 
 in its place. 
 
 " Those war times were truly a godsend to 
 many more than myself," said Uncle Newman, 
 who was always in the seventh heaven when 
 this theme was introduced. " Every time 
 Lord Wellington drubbed Boney I went to 
 bed a richer man by some hundreds of pounds, 
 nephew, than when I arose in the morning. 
 T would have paid the ringers myself, rather 
 than that a merry peal should not have been 
 rung by the joy-bells. The times are sadly 
 altered since then !" he added, with a sigh. 
 
 William thanked God inwardly that the 
 war times had gone by, and prayed they might 
 never return ; but that the two wise and 
 great nations should entertain a lasting friend- 
 ship for each other, for the good of all other 
 nations, and cultivate the blessings of peace, 
 so that their rival swords might be turned 
 into ploughshares, even though those swords 
 had been made in Sheffield or Braids worth. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 177 
 
 " I'm afraid, sir," said William, after a 
 pause, " there are few amongst us who can 
 make such a boast now. It is much more 
 probable we are all losing thousands instead 
 of making them." 
 
 " Likely enough — likely enough," replied 
 Uncle Newman. " Nothing is so good now 
 as it was in my young days. Trade appears 
 to me to have gone to the dogs since then ; 
 there's nothing but beggarly scrapings for 
 those silly fools who embark in it !" 
 
 " But, uncle, what are people of capital and 
 energy to embark in ? Every one is not an 
 Uncle Newman, with a handsome mansion 
 and plenty of money in the funds to back his 
 energy ?" 
 
 " Those women have certainly forgotten us 
 altogether," said Uncle Newman, after a 
 pause. " Suppose we go and see if there is 
 any chance of dinner," and he led the way, 
 with huge strides, towards the house. 
 
 They found dinner on the table, and Sophia 
 sitting on a couch near the window. The old 
 
 I 5 
 
178 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 man went np to her, and took her thin wasted 
 hands in his rough palms, kissing her brow 
 and smoothing the braided hair that was 
 parted over her forehead with a tenderness of 
 which no one would have supposed him 
 capable a moment before. For an instant he 
 was a totally different being ; his voice was 
 both gentle and soothing, a pleasant gleam shot 
 from beneath his shaggy eyebrows, and an 
 agreeable smile played about his mouth, that 
 quite altered the expression of the lower part 
 of his face. 
 
 " My dear love ! I've been longing to hear 
 from you," he said, seeing no one but herself. 
 " You were very poorly when I was here last, 
 if you remember ; and, indeed, when I re- 
 turned home I made Polly boil down calves' 
 feet jelly enough to last you a month, but my 
 lout of a man forgot to bring it here." 
 
 " Thank you all the same, uncle," said 
 Miss Gladstone, with a smile, " I am sure the 
 jelly would have done me much good." 
 
 " Then you shall have some this very 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 179 
 
 week," said the old man, eagerly, " but I 
 want you to come to Longford, Sophy, my 
 love, and I'll take no refusal, so you must 
 just make a virtue of necessity at starting ; 
 but we'll talk the matter over after dinner by 
 our two selves. Sit still, my dear, and I'll 
 wheel you up to the table;" and, suiting the 
 action to the word, he placed his niece's 
 couch in the niche it occupied at the dinner 
 table, and then took a seat next to her. 
 
 All through the dinner he paid Sophy the 
 same solicitous attention, anticipating her 
 every want with a delicacy few would have 
 given him, from his uncouth, bearish manner, 
 credit for possessing, By the time the wine 
 and fruit were placed on the table, even his 
 two younger nieces came in for a share of his 
 attention, whilst his nephew was favoured 
 with two or three long harangues upon the 
 briskness of trade when he was engaged in 
 commercial pursuits ; but whenever he turned 
 to Sophia the eye moistened, and the voice 
 instantly faltered. If ever uncle Newman 
 
180 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 had the vanity to wish to transmit his strongly 
 marked unloveable features to posterity, it 
 should have been done at that very moment ; 
 he really looked almost venerable under the 
 softening influence. 
 
 None of the others felt jealous of this 
 preference. Miss Gladstone's misfortune would 
 have been quite sufficient to account for the 
 partiality, even had her character been less 
 amiable than it was. Even Kate, however, 
 whose versatile character made her more 
 liable to transient impressions than either 
 Frances or William, felt that Uncle Newman 
 only paid Sophy the same loving homage that 
 the rest of the family, in their several fashions, 
 were in the habit of doing, whilst Frances 
 felt peculiarly grateful to the generally harsh 
 old man for the exception he made in 
 Sophia's favour to his usual harshness. 
 
 " We were discussing a scheme as we 
 returned from church, sir," said William, 
 taking advantage of a general silence, " which 
 the fever renders in some degree necessary.'* 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 181 
 
 " What is that, pray?" asked Uncle 
 Newman, in a gruff voice. 
 
 " We are all rather afraid of infection, sir," 
 continued his nephew, " and as far as my sisters 
 are concerned, I think there is no necessity 
 for Sophia and Kate, at any rate, running the 
 risk of catching it." 
 
 " Oh, indeed I" exclaimed Uncle Newman, 
 as a glimmering suspicion of his plan with 
 regard to Sophia being in some sort disturbed, 
 crossed his mind ; " and what, may I ask, do 
 you propose, in your wisdom, to do ?" 
 
 " I did think of taking lodgings at Redcar 
 for Sophy and Kate, and keep Frances with 
 me." 
 
 " Then my niece, Frances, I suppose, has 
 got a charm of some kind against the relent- 
 less foe," said the old man, sneeringly. 
 
 " No, indeed, uncle," said Frances, speak- 
 ing for the first time ; " but William will 
 have a very harassing time of it, if the fever 
 increases ; and I think it my duty to stay and 
 make him as comfortable as I can." 
 
182 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 Uncle Newman looked at her from beneath 
 his shaggy brows with more attention than he 
 usually paid to any womankind, except his 
 favourite Sophia. The beautiful blush that 
 her speech had called up into Frances's 
 usually pale face, made her look the very 
 image of her mother at the same age, and the 
 memory of his sister, in her happy girlhood, 
 made his strong, loud voice falter somewhat 
 as he said — 
 
 " You're a silly goose, lass, to stay behind 
 when Kate, there, has made up her mind to 
 run away." 
 
 " One of us is quite sufficient to see that 
 our brother is made comfortable," said 
 Frances, in her calm manner. 
 
 " I don't see why it should devolve upon 
 you, my dear," retorted the old man, who still 
 kept his gaze upon her, for he began to 
 discover a new and hitherto unsuspected 
 pleasure in his youngest niece's presence, 
 which his partiality for his eldest had pre- 
 viously prevented his discovering. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 183 
 
 " I am more accustomed to William's ways 
 than Kate, sir," responded Frances, in a 
 deprecating tone. 
 
 " It's no business of mine, my lass," he 
 answered, drily. " I suppose then I have to 
 take charge of that pretty simpleton," he 
 added, looking at Kate in no very pleasant 
 manner. " I'm afraid, niece, you cannot put 
 up very cannily with an old bachelor's 
 domestic arrangements." 
 
 " I will try, sir," said Kate, with a smile ; 
 " that is if you make yourself as agreeable as 
 possible." 
 
 The gleam of passion that shot from beneath 
 those awful brows at this thoughtless sally 
 made her repent the moment it was uttered. 
 Uncle Newman did not retort, however, as 
 was his wont, but pushing back his chair with 
 a bitter smile, that would have struck terror 
 to a stouter heart than Kate's, he began to 
 stride backwards and forwards in the narrow 
 lane formed by the table and wall. 
 
 William could scarcely restrain a smile at 
 
184 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 the change a few careless words had made 
 amongst them. Sophia looked hnrt, and 
 Frances grave, whilst tears seemed swimming 
 over the silky lashes that shaded Kate's 
 usually merry eyes. William rather loved 
 mischief at times, and the head and front of 
 Kate's offending was so innocent, that he did 
 not take his usual pains to allay the storm on 
 the present occasion, but kept sipping his 
 wine, and looking askance at Frances, when- 
 ever the old man's back was turned. 
 
 Uncle Newman at length got tired of his 
 treadmill performance, and came back to the 
 table. 
 
 " Is the fever very bad, nephew ?" he en- 
 quired in a lower tone. 
 
 " Not very, sir, at present, but it promises 
 to be so ere long," rejoined his nephew, rather 
 surprised at the change. 
 
 " I remember it when I was a boy," con- 
 tinued the old man, talking more to himself 
 than to those around him, as he sat with half- 
 closed eyes, and spoke in a sorrowful tone, 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 185 
 
 that made tliem all turn pale in spite of them- 
 selves. " Your mother and I were the only 
 two spared out of a household of thirteen, 
 and for two nights and days I lay delirious, 
 with a brother's dead body on the bed beside 
 me. It killed the doctor and nurses, my 
 dears, and my poor widowed mother amongst 
 the rest. It was truly fearful." 
 
 It must have been fearful, indeed, to have 
 engraved itself so deeply on that strong, 
 brave heart. Kate drew in her breath, and 
 darted one imploring look at the old man, 
 but he was too much absorbed in his own 
 recollections to notice it just then. 
 
 " I remember when we got strong enough 
 to crawl out again," he continued, in the same 
 sorrowful voice, " how strange it seemed to 
 go into the neighbouring houses and find 
 many a chair empty that we had last seen 
 filled by the lads and lasses we had played 
 with all our lives. There was a fair young 
 girl next door to our house, that your mother 
 and I had many a merry ramble with, that 
 
186 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 had the grass growing green over her grave 
 by then — and — and — " a groan stopped his 
 utterance, and flinging his bandana handker- 
 chief over his face, the old man leaned back 
 in his chair and became silent. 
 
 He had never before laid bare the sorrows 
 of his past life so fully to their gaze. Sophia 
 and Frances felt that " that fair young girl " 
 had been the day-dream of his boyhood, and 
 with uncle Newman's strong, uncultivated 
 affections, it was evident that her memory 
 had haunted his life, even to old ag^e. 
 
 " Let Sophia go home with me," said he, 
 after a pause, as he raised his head and looked 
 at his nephew. " You can drive Kate over 
 any morning, when she is ready to come." 
 
 " But, uncle, I am afraid I shall put you to 
 inconvenience," said Kate, with some show of 
 spirit. 
 
 " That is my concern, niece, not yours," 
 he rejoined, in his ungracious way ; " besides, 
 you will be company for your sister." 
 
 This was a humbling idea to Kate, but she 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 187 
 
 bore it with more philosophy than her brother 
 gave her credit for ; nay, she even smiled, 
 and thanked him, and that, too, in snch a 
 gentle voice, that Uncle Newman himself felt 
 surprised, and he would, in all probability, 
 have noticed it in words, had not Frances 
 reminded her sister, by a glance, that it was 
 time to leave the gentlemen to enjoy their 
 wine together. 
 
 With so many loving hands, it was an easy 
 task for Sophia to reach the drawing-room, 
 where so many hours of her captivity had 
 been passed, sitting by an open window, 
 through which a thousand balmy odours were 
 wafted into the room ; Kate and Frances read 
 to her by turns, but the book often dropped 
 into their laps as the subject was changed for 
 one more congenial to the minds of all; a 
 lively discussion ensued about uncle New- 
 man, who was the only living relative they 
 possessed. 
 
 His career, like that of most men in his 
 station, is soon told. He owed his success in 
 
188 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 life to the energy and shrewdness of his cha- 
 racter, much more than to any advantages of 
 birth or education. An early disappointment 
 had somewhat soured a temper not very good 
 at the best ; but the old man concealed 
 beneath that rough and repelling exterior, a 
 warm and kindly disposition, as was evidenced 
 by his partiality for his eldest niece. He had 
 retired from business many years before, and 
 built himself a handsome house at Longford, 
 amidst the beautiful scenery he had loved to 
 wander amongst in his youthful days, and 
 here, at long intervals, his nephew and nieces 
 were in the habit of going to spend an un- 
 comfortable week, for all uncle Newman's 
 efforts could not prevent his acting the bashaw, 
 even in his own house. It was no wonder, 
 therefore, that Kate dreaded such a visit, or 
 that she permitted herself to indulge in a 
 little petulance when the churlish invitation 
 was given. 
 
 The gentlemen came up to tea long before 
 Kate had settled, in her own mind, the reason 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 189 
 
 why bachelor uncles had ever been invented, 
 if they had all to be as cross and bearish as 
 her own. 
 
 Now the time was drawing near for his 
 departure, uncle Newman was getting very 
 fidgety and impatient, and he could scarcely 
 refrain from reminding Sophia that it was 
 time they should set out. 
 
 Frances relieved his impatience, after a 
 time, by bringing her sister's cloak and bon- 
 net, and then some little employment was 
 afforded him in ordering his chaise to be 
 brought out. When he got his nephew 
 to the stable, for this purpose, he fumbled 
 about in his capacious pockets for some time, 
 and at length fished out a greasy, black 
 pocket-book, of enormous dimensions, from 
 which he extracted a bank-note. 
 
 "You will find this useful to distribute 
 amongst your poor people, nephew," he said, 
 thrusting the note into the young man's hand. 
 
 " But, uncle, you don't belong to our 
 parish," said the nephew, who had rarely 
 
190 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 known him give anything away before in 
 charity. 
 
 " No matter, lad ; it's for the sake of them 
 that's dead and gone," said he sadly, as he 
 put up his pocket-book again. " John, I 
 hope you've seen all the girths tight this time, 
 as Miss Gladstone goes with me." 
 
 The man vouched for Miss Gladstone's 
 safety, as far as he was concerned, and then 
 uncle Newman fidgetted his way upstairs 
 again. Frances was observed assisting Sophia 
 down, and in a few minutes she was comfort- 
 ably seated beside him in the chaise. 
 
 "You can bring Kate out as soon as 
 Sophia's luggage is ready, nephew," said he, 
 as he drew up the glass. " Drive on, John," 
 and, with a nod of his head, the chaise drove 
 off. 
 
 The chaise was stopped before it got far 
 from the house, and uncle Newman's tall 
 figure was seen protruding through the win- 
 dow, and his harsh voice was heard crying 
 out, " Niece Frances ! a word with you." 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 191 
 
 Frances ran towards the chaise, wondering 
 what could be the matter, and her surprise 
 was much increased by the old man taking 
 her hand in both his horny fists. 
 
 " You're a good lass, I'm sure, my bairn, or 
 you wouldn't wish to stay with your brother 
 just now," said he, more in the tone of voice 
 he generally used in addressing Sophia than 
 that he usually employed with herself; "but 
 take care of yourself, and don't be rushing 
 into the way of the fever;" and, with another 
 dreadful squeeze, that made her whole arm 
 tingle with pain, he dragged himself into the 
 chaise again, and ordered his servant to drive 
 forward as fast as he could. 
 
192 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Frances was now evidently so far on the 
 high-road to her uncle's favour, that had she 
 been of a speculative disposition, she would 
 probably have indulged in building castles in 
 the air with uncle Newman's imaginary 
 wealth; but, being of a prosaic, every-day 
 character, she did nothing of the sort ; there 
 were far too many serious things for her to 
 think about than indulging in dreams. 
 
 The business of life, however darkly 
 chequered it may be, is rarely so melancholy 
 but that some ray of sunshine springs up to 
 illumine the darkness. Their long-promised 
 visit to " Sunny side" gave William and Frances 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 193 
 
 a pleasant anticipation to dwell upon, even 
 amidst the stern, if not painful, duties that 
 demanded all their daily exertions. 
 
 William had made a tour of the parish on 
 the Monday — accompanied by Mr. Smith — 
 the result of which Frances and Kate 
 judged from the clouded brow and fit of 
 abstraction he indulged in at dinner-time. 
 He was not naturally of a communicative 
 disposition, especially when disagreeable news 
 was all he had to relate, and nothing passed 
 during the meal to enlighten them as to the 
 reason of his gloom. Sophia had early taught 
 them how wrong it was to trouble him with 
 questions, when he was in no mood to answer 
 them, and they did not, therefore, strive to 
 discover what had occurred, but contented 
 themselves with discussing the ordinary topics 
 of conversation, although those topics were 
 almost entirely confined to themselves. 
 
 Once only Frances ventured within the 
 charmed circle to ask how William Crisp's 
 little girl was, and the brief and gloomy 
 
 vol. I. k 
 
194 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 answer she received did not tempt her to 
 pursue the enquiry. 
 
 " Jessie was very ill," he said, " and there 
 were more in the cottages about the village 
 in an equally dangerous state, for the lapse 
 of a single night had enabled the fell destroyer 
 to make a terrible onslaught on the defenceless 
 victims." 
 
 " Had we not better defer our visit to the 
 Coulsons ?" she asked the next minute. 
 
 " Certainly not ; the Vinens intend going, 
 and why should not we ?" 
 
 " You know best, brother ; I only thought 
 something might occur during our absence." 
 
 " We might never stir from home if we 
 permitted such fears to influence us," he 
 answered. "No, we will go and strive to 
 enjoy a pleasant day, even if it be the last we 
 may anticipate for a long time to come." 
 
 He got up and went out of the room as 
 he said this, and they saw him hurrying down 
 the garden the next minute in the direction of 
 the village. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 195 
 
 " How anxiety about this dreadful fever 
 alters William," said Kate, watching her 
 brother, as he leaped the hedge, in preference 
 to going round by the gate. " Frances, are 
 you not afraid ?" 
 
 " Not much," said Frances, taking up some 
 knitting. " At least, I am not so much dis- 
 turbed by the dread of the fever as I should 
 be if it were at a distance, and permitted 
 myself to anticipate all manner of evil hap- 
 pening to William in my absence." 
 
 "Suppose you were to catch it ?" persisted 
 Kate. 
 
 " I never permit myself to imagine that ; I 
 believe I am quite as safe here as I should be 
 at ' Sunny side' or Longford." 
 
 " And yet there is no fever at either of 
 those places ?" 
 
 " Reflect for a minute," said Frances, pur- 
 suing her own thoughts, rather than answer- 
 ing those of her sister, " how very terrible it 
 would be if all the healthy inhabitants of a 
 village, or even of one house only, were to run 
 
 k 2 
 
196 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 away when one or two of their relatives or 
 friends were stricken down by an infectious 
 malady ; how full of terrors would be the 
 beds of the dying, unsoothed by one loving 
 hand, or unheeded by one tender accent of 
 pitying fondness ; when the darkness of night 
 settled down on hearts that would soon cease 
 to beat with that precious life which, but for 
 the wicked and selfish cowardice of others, 
 might have been prolonged for many happy 
 years ; and for the survivors — " 
 
 " Frances," interrupted Kate, with firm- 
 ness, " I will stay with you, and brave it all ; 
 it is my duty, and I will not swerve from it, 
 come what may." 
 
 " But uncle Newman expects you at Long- 
 ford." 
 
 " I will write and tell him I have altered 
 my mind ; he likes me too little to be unhappy 
 at my resolution." 
 
 " You had better not do so until William 
 hears your determination," said Frances, with 
 a smile. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 197 
 
 " I'll write this moment," said Kate, open- 
 ing her desk, " or lie may refuse my doing so." 
 
 The note was soon written, and then Kate 
 felt happy ; she went to the piano, and snng 
 a pathetic ballad, with a richness of voice 
 that made Frances listen in spite of herself ; 
 she looked so pretty, that it was impossible 
 to gaze without admiring her, and for one 
 moment an exquisite pang shot through 
 Frances's heart as she watched the fair face 
 crimson over with pleasure, as Kate's voice 
 rose with thrilling power, whilst singing the 
 triumph of some village maid over a high- 
 born rival. 
 
 She conquered the feeling almost before it 
 had birth, and then went far back in the 
 shadow of the recess, listening to her sister's 
 voice, until she felt her cheeks wet with tears. 
 Kate, almost at the same moment, arose and 
 left the instrument, humming the tune with 
 which she had finished, and without noticing 
 her sister's emotion, left the room. 
 
 Frances had by nature a cheerful, hopeful 
 
198 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 temperament, which generally prompted her 
 to look at everything on its brightest side, 
 and it was very fortunate she had, as many 
 things at present conspired to render such a 
 gift an actual necessity of her existence. 
 
 She had early been taught by an excellent 
 and loving mother to cultivate this serenity 
 of temper, and she now reaped the good 
 effects of such a course of moral training in 
 its fullest perfection. If all parents would 
 teach their children to cultivate a happy spirit, 
 through all the trifling ills of life, it would be 
 a ten times more inestimable heritage than 
 the wealth they strive so ceaselessly to amass 
 for those they have to leave behind. 
 
 There was, in the first place, this dreaded 
 scourge, which was desolating the parish with 
 its ravages. As she sat and thought of it, in 
 the chair she had not stirred from since Kate 
 had left the room, she heard the church bell 
 knelling the departure of another human 
 being from the scene of his labours. Then 
 there was the badness of trade, and conse- 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 199 
 
 quently the dearth of employment, and with 
 it the risk of her brother's capital, the hard- 
 earned fruit of years of toil and thought. 
 Very painful it was to observe how thin and 
 grave he had grown in the last few months, 
 and how rarely he seemed to snatch a few 
 hours' amusement amidst all the serious em- 
 ployments of his daily life ; how rarely a smile 
 came over that face which used to be so blithe 
 and cheerful, and how seldom his voice rang 
 with the merry laugh that once had character- 
 ised it. 
 
 There are few spectacles more painful to 
 witness than that of a young face darkened 
 over with the clouds of care ; youth in general 
 has such a treasury of hope on which to fall 
 back that life must be a stern reality indeed 
 to be able to deaden the glorious gift. Frances 
 sighed as she thought how the storm-clouds 
 of adversity seemed to be blotting out the 
 rainbow tints from her brother's path ; and 
 then, with a self -reproving exclamation at the 
 folly of indulging such morbid fancies, she 
 
200 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 took up her knitting again and began to knit 
 as rapidly as her fingers could move, to drive 
 away the painful thoughts that crowded upon 
 her brain. 
 
 When William came home in the evening 
 he was more cheerful than she had seen him 
 for sometime. 
 
 " I wish Wilding would come," said he in 
 quick, sharp tones, as he threw himself upon 
 the sofa with an evident desire to talk. 
 
 " Why, William ?" asked Kate. 
 
 " Because I am more than usually happy, 
 I suppose, and therefore wish to make as 
 many more catch the infection as possible. 
 You understand so little about business, 
 Kate, that it will scarcely enlighten your 
 ignorance if I tell you I have just received a 
 large foreign order, which I am happy to say 
 will keep my men employed for months." 
 
 " Frances, however, can," said Kate, as 
 her sister's face brightened up with the an- 
 nouncement. " Will it make you very busy, 
 brother ?" 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 201 
 
 " Very busy," said he, gaily. " I shall be 
 able to employ every hand in Braidsworth 
 until Christmas, silly girl, if they will work 
 at the wages I can offer them. When trade 
 is slack employers are glad to take work at 
 any price, and cannot afford to pay the high 
 wages they do when times are prosperous." 
 
 " And do you think the men will work for 
 you on the terms you can propose to them ?" 
 asked Frances, thoughtfully. 
 
 " My own men will," said her brother ; " I 
 have already spoken to two or three whom I 
 can trust, and this night they will all know 
 on what terms I can employ them. Many, 
 however, who are now starving in idleness, 
 will, I know, refuse." 
 
 " What madness !" exclaimed Frances. 
 
 " It is madness, and yet it will be so ; 
 human nature is at times so warped and per- 
 verted that many will prefer burdening the 
 rates and living in semi-starvation to working 
 at prices which will, at all events, find their 
 
 k 5 
 
202 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 wives and children with the necessaries, though 
 with few, perhaps, of the luxuries of life. 
 
 " "What a pity it is there is no law to 
 compel men to work in such a case," continued 
 Frances. " In America, I believe, they have 
 something of the kind." 
 
 " Yet American institutions are thought by 
 the Americans much more liberal than our 
 own," said William, rising and pacing the 
 room with an elastic step. " In England 
 such a coercion would not be permitted for a 
 moment. I wish Sophia was here, girls. 
 Kate must tell her so much of my news as 
 she understands herself when she gets to 
 Longford." 
 
 It was now Kate's turn to tell her news, 
 which she did with a quietness that surprised 
 her brother. He did not look pleased, which 
 was really very hard for Kate to bear, for she 
 rather felt as if she deserved some applause 
 for her resolution. 
 
 " I think you will be better at Longford," 
 he said at length. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 203 
 
 " I would rather stay here, brother. This 
 order will probably take you much from home, 
 and Frances will be very dull by herself." 
 
 William's countenance showed how greatly 
 he was surprised, for Kate rarely thought so 
 much of other people as to care whether they 
 were merry or dull, so long as she was herself 
 amused. 
 
 " I have written to uncle Newman," said 
 Kate, talking very fast, as if she was afraid 
 he would refuse his consent to her wishes. 
 " I told him I could not come at present, so 
 you see nothing more can be done, even if 
 you wished to alter my arrangements." 
 
 " Nay, Kate, I always wish you to follow 
 your own inclinations," said her brother, too 
 happy with his altered prospects to oppose 
 her arrangements. "So ring the bell, and 
 let us have supper, for I feel as if I could 
 sleep peacefully to-night." 
 
 " You won't walk up and down your room 
 for hours to-night, "William," said Frances, 
 after the supper tray was removed. 
 
204 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " Keeping others awake as well as myself, 
 I'm afraid, Frances," lie said affectionately. 
 " No, my dear, I shall sleep too soundly for 
 that." 
 
 " Thank God that you can. I'm sure you 
 have often kept me awake till morning." 
 
 " I will not do so in future, even if I am 
 unable to sleep. It is bad enough to have 
 the sleep driven away from one's own eyelids, 
 without chasing it from those of others. Did 
 Sophia ever hear me ?" 
 
 " Never." 
 
 "Nor I, William," said Kate. "I'm a 
 perfect dormouse." 
 
 " I would give worlds, if I possessed such a 
 quality, Kate ; it is very terrible to count the 
 lagging night hours when one is unhappy." 
 
 " I am very thankful we have now only one 
 evil to struggle against," said Frances, after 
 a pause. " The idea of the foundry being 
 closed, and fever in the village as well, has 
 quite haunted me of late ; the two together 
 were very terrible to think of J 9 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 205 
 
 " How very late it is," said Kate with a 
 yawn ; " I declare, the clock is striking eleven. 
 Come, Frances, let us go to bed." 
 
 Their brother lighted their candle, and 
 bade them good night, with the observation 
 that he would soon follow their example. 
 An hour after, however, he was busy with 
 half a dozen plans, and his drawing board 
 before him, preparing drawings for this 
 wonderful contract, which was to relieve him 
 from impending ruin. 
 
 He was still hard at work, when his quick 
 ear caught the tread of several feet on the 
 gravel path without, and presently there was 
 heard a sharp pull at the door bell. 
 
 " Who the deuce can that be ?" muttered 
 he to himself, as the sound echoed through 
 the silent house. " Crisp would never think 
 of coming up at this time of night." 
 
 He heard the dog barking in the yard as 
 he crossed the passage on his way to the 
 front door, for every one was in bed but 
 himself; but before he could unlock it and 
 
206 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 draw back the bolts there came another sharp 
 ring, and, afraid of alarming his sisters, he 
 opened the door, revealing at the moment he 
 did so upwards of a dozen men crowding one 
 upon the other in the porch. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen, what is it you want?" 
 demanded Mr. Gladstone, as cheerfully and 
 composedly as if he had fully expected to see 
 them. " This is a very late hour for you to 
 come to see me, is it not ?" 
 
 " It is, Mr. Gladstone," said a man who 
 stood in front of the rest. "You will probably 
 know the matter that brings us here." 
 
 " Not at all, my good man. I do not even 
 know yourself." 
 
 " Probably not, sir," rejoined the other, in 
 a voice that had nothing of Yorkshire in its 
 tones. " We are engineers, sir." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, for I am one of your- 
 selves," said William, audaciously. " Tell me 
 what brings you all to my house at this time 
 of night, for I need scarcely tell you I was 
 just going to bed when you rang the bell." 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 207 
 
 " We wants to hav' a talk wi' ye, Muster 
 Gladstine," said a deep voice in the rear, 
 " about two or three things that be o' moment 
 to us workin' men." 
 
 " Dang thee, hould thy tongue, thou fule," 
 growled a still deeper voice, stifling the 
 eloquence of the village Demosthenes ; " let 
 Misther Smooth speak, my lad." 
 
 " We are a deputation, Mr. Gladstone, from 
 the Trades' Union," said their more polished 
 mouthpiece, in the person of Mr. Smooth. 
 "We have been informed you have taken a 
 very active part in inducing your brother 
 manufacturers to resist our just demands." 
 
 " I deny that they are just," rejoined 
 William, firmly. " I deny that you have the 
 shadow of a right to dictate terms to any 
 man breathing." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear you say so, sir," said 
 the other, sneeringly. " Are you aware that 
 the avowal of such sentiments places your 
 property in great danger." 
 
208 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 Those that were near enough saw by the 
 bright moonlight that the young man's face 
 bore a defiant smile as he listened to this 
 threat. 
 
 " I do not understand you, sir." 
 
 " Then, dang ye, we'll make ye," growled 
 the deep voice that had already spoken in the 
 rear of the party. 
 
 " I am much obliged to you for the hint, 
 gentlemen," said William, sternly. " Is there 
 any other remark you wish to make, for time 
 passes ?" 
 
 " A great many, Mr. Gladstone," said 
 Smooth, quieting, by the force of his 
 eloquence, the two growlers, who were 
 whispering to each other that the young 
 manufacturer should be hustled and ducked. 
 " You are only a young man, but you have 
 already earned for yourself the unenviable 
 character of being a thorough tyrant." 
 
 " I have decided upon the course I mean to 
 pursue, and intend to keep it," said "William, 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 209 
 
 who stood his ground manfully, in spite of 
 their threats. " Not one of my own men has, 
 as yet, joined your illegal Union." 
 
 " Shoot the fellar ! duck he ! tear he limb 
 fra limb, the cowardly villin !" cried half a 
 dozen of the Union men, foaming with 
 passion. 
 
 " Are your followers a pack of wild beasts ?" 
 Mr. Gladstone demanded of their mouthpiece. 
 " Order that scoundrel to give you the pistol 
 he holds, so threateningly or I will leave you 
 without another word." 
 
 " They are honest men, Mr. Gladstone, but 
 they are only men after all," resumed the 
 other, in a surly voice. " Many of them, 
 poor fellows, have not earned a shilling for 
 weeks." 
 
 " I cannot help that. Myself and my brother 
 manufacturers have kept our places open as 
 long as there was a job of work to do, regard- 
 less of the fearfully low prices we had to sell 
 at ; but now too many of us are nearly bank- 
 rupt, and the rest find that the only way to 
 
210 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 save themselves from utter ruin is to place 
 their establishments on short time." 
 
 " But you have received a large foreign 
 order, sir," said Smooth, saucily. 
 
 "It is not large enough to give every un- 
 employed artizan in this neighbourhood a 
 single day's work," said William. "I intend, 
 of course, to employ my own men upon it 
 whilst it lasts." 
 
 " The Union is determined to let no man 
 work who is not a member and contributes to 
 its funds," said the other, amidst a deep buzz 
 of applause. " If you do not yield, sir, you 
 will be compelled to close your foundry." 
 
 " I will do neither the one nor the other, 
 gentlemen," said Mr. Gladstone, who, seeing 
 it was useless talking with them, prepared to 
 shut the door. " Be advised by me ; go 
 quietly home, and wait patiently until things 
 work their own cure. Come, my lads, go 
 home quietly," and he attempted to shut the 
 door. 
 
 "Stop he!" roared a dozen human bears, 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 211 
 
 with a blind, blood-thirsty vindictiveness that 
 would have made a more timid-hearted man 
 shudder, but which only nerved Mr. Gladstone 
 to greater determination. 
 
 " Choke him ! Strangle him ! Drag the 
 white-livered villain through his own pond, 
 and give him a good ducking ! Shoot him !" 
 and they rushed upon the door which William 
 had now closed and barred and bolted, with a 
 violence that made the posts start, and the 
 plaster come rattling down about his head. 
 
 He stood in the passage that was feebly lit 
 by the candle he had placed on one of the 
 chairs, listening to their wild cries and blas- 
 phemous words. They resembled more a 
 pack of hungry wolves than human beings. 
 
 Mr. Gladstone was very pale, but you could 
 see it was not caused by fear, for there was 
 almost a smile upon his face, and his eyes 
 flashed as he stood and listened, while three 
 or four roared out for fire to be brought to 
 the porch to burn the house down. 
 
 " Silence, fools I" roared the shrill voice of 
 
212 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 their leader, above all the din. " What would 
 be the good of burning the house down ?" 
 
 " Why, to drive the cunning fox out of his 
 den I" said one, in answer to this question. 
 
 " And get hanged for our pains !" William 
 heard Smooth say, in reply. " Come, let us be 
 moving towards home again." 
 
 " Wait just a minute, then," cried a voice 
 that William had heard often enough by this 
 time to recognise. " There ! hurrah !" and 
 the sharp report of a pistol, followed by the 
 rattle of broken glass in the fanlight over the 
 door, accounted for the cheer. 
 
 " Now, my lads, let's away home." 
 
 William heard them tramp, one by one, 
 down the gravel walk, until they reached the 
 gate, where they drew up to indulge their 
 feelings with another groan and a few more 
 oaths, before they took their departure. 
 
 Mr. Gladstone went back into the parlour 
 and, going to the buffet, poured himself out a 
 glass of wine, which he drank, and then sat 
 down in his chair to ruminate upon the visit. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 213 
 
 " Pleasant, certainly I" he muttered, brush- 
 ing the mortar off his shoulders, and con- 
 scious for the first time that some minute 
 particles had fallen down his neck. 
 
 " I may thank my stars I was not shot. 
 That fellow who led them on has a very 
 pretty idea of what is due to his order, at any 
 rate." 
 
 He drank a second glass of wine, and mut- 
 tered — 
 
 " I wonder neither Frances nor Kate heard 
 the noise. If I thought they durst remain all 
 night in the house by themselves, I would 
 ride over to York, and get a few soldiers to 
 watch my shops until this absurd rumpus has 
 passed over. The mare has not been out to- 
 day, and is quite fresh, and it is not very far 
 on such a fine night." 
 
 The idea having once taken possession of 
 his mind, he prepared to act upon it without 
 loss of time. If Frances was awake he would 
 explain to her where he was going, and if she 
 
214 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 was asleep he would write a note acquainting 
 her with his intention, and place it on the 
 table in the breakfast-room, where she could 
 not fail to see it when she came down. 
 
 So he crept up-stairs, and listened at the 
 door of his sisters' room, but everything 
 was so still and quiet he was confident they 
 were both asleep ; and then, coming down 
 again, he wrote his note placed it on the 
 table, and then undid the fastenings of the 
 back-door very gently. 
 
 The old mastiff sprang towards him to the 
 full length of her chain, and whined as she 
 recognised her master. 
 
 " Grood dog ! good dog !" he cried, as she 
 leaped up on his shoulder, as he proceeded to 
 the stable. " I don't like to leave the door un- 
 locked, lest those villains should come back 
 again, though I think that scarcely likely. Old 
 girl, you shall finish your nap in the passage," 
 and he took off her chain and ordered her to 
 lie down on the rug inside the door. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 215 
 
 His hand came in contact with the key, and 
 he smiled involuntarily as a mischievous idea 
 entered his mind. 
 
 " I'll lock them all in for a change," laughed 
 William to himself, as he turned the key of 
 the door from the outside, and, mounting his 
 mare, rode away with it in his pocket. " How 
 Hannah will storm when she finds the window 
 the only means of getting access to the pantry 
 in the morning." 
 
 It was broad daylight, though still early 
 morning, when he rode through York towards 
 the barracks. 
 
 In answer to his enquiries for the colonel's 
 residence, a soldier conducted him thither, 
 but informed him that until morning parade, 
 at eight o'clock, there was little chance of 
 seeing Colonel Stopford. 
 
 " My horse and myself are both jaded and 
 hungry enough to make good use of the 
 interval," said William, glancing toward the 
 barrack-yard with a feeling of disappointment. 
 " Have you many men in garrison just now ?" 
 
216 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " Very few, sir. Two companies went 
 away last week to the manufacturing districts, 
 which I am told are in a very disturbed state 
 at present. I did hear it said our commander 
 would not permit any more men to leave 
 garrison until we got a reinforcement." 
 
 This was not very cheering news for Mr. 
 Gladstone to hear, but still he felt confident 
 he could give Colonel Stopford sufficiently 
 cogent reasons why, in his case and that of his 
 neighbours, such a resolution, even if it had 
 been made, should be abandoned. 
 
 The men who called themselves Union 
 men were sufficiently lawless to require the 
 strong arm of military law to keep them in 
 check, and the Braidsworth manufacturers 
 had quite as much right to receive military aid 
 as those of Leeds, Manchester, or Sheffield. 
 
 William found a quiet public-house, where 
 his mare could be taken care of until he was 
 ready to return home ; and having partaken 
 of a hasty breakfast, and made his ablutions, 
 he went to the barracks again. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 217 
 
 Morning parade was just over as he arrived. 
 He found Colonel Stopford was not present, 
 but a soldier in undress, who heard him en- 
 quiring of a sergeant for his commanding 
 officer, volunteered the information that the 
 Colonel was at that moment at breakfast in 
 his own quarters, and if the gentleman 
 wished to see him he could not have a better 
 opportunity. 
 
 The Colonel's residence, judging by the 
 room which William was ushered into, was 
 evidently furnished with the strictest economy, 
 although he understood Colonel Stopford was 
 a man of fortune, and closely allied to more 
 than one noble family. A strong oak table, 
 and half-a-dozen equally substantial chairs, a 
 map of the United Kingdom, with the dif- 
 ferent garrison towns marked by red squares, 
 and a plan of the recent war operations in the 
 Peninsula, was absolutely the only furniture 
 it contained, excepting a well-worn oil-cloth 
 that covered the floor. By the time William 
 
 VOL. I. l 
 
218 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 had noticed this, a step behind him announced 
 the arrival of Colonel Stopford. 
 
 It did not require his undress blue coat to 
 proclaim his profession, for his tall, military 
 looking figure and soldier-like bearing made 
 that evident at first siffht. His keen eagle 
 eye seemed to search his visitor through as 
 he told his errand, which he did in as few 
 words as possible. 
 
 Colonel Stopford' s reply was equally laconic. 
 He exceeding regretted he could not assist 
 Mr. Gladstone and his brother manufacturers, 
 for there were scarcely enough men at that 
 moment under his command to carry on the 
 usual operations of the station. 
 
 " The case is a very urgent one, Colonel," 
 persisted Mr. Gladstone. " I had the honour 
 of receiving a deputation of these Unionists 
 last night, and was pretty plainly warned of 
 my fate, should I prove refractory." 
 
 " I admit that the case is urgent, Mr. Glad- 
 stone ; but as a business man, you will see 
 how impossible it is for me to comply with 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 219 
 
 your request. The regulations of the service 
 prevent my acquiescing." 
 
 " Those regulations, sir, should be amended. 
 A commanding officer in such an emergency 
 should have proper powers granted him to 
 aid those who pay the king's taxes," said 
 "William, with bitterness. 
 
 Colonel Stopford smiled. 
 
 " You would do away all discipline and 
 obedience by such a regulation," he said. " I 
 am sorry, Mr. Gladstone, I cannot assist you ; 
 but until I communicate with the authorities 
 at the Horse Guards my hands are tied." 
 
 Mr. Gladstone could not urge farther. His 
 heart was filled with anger already at what 
 he felt to be such insulting coldness in a 
 quarter where he expected to meet with ready 
 aid and sympathy. He took up his hat, and 
 bowed, as he said — 
 
 " I will depend, sir, on myself." 
 
 " If they afford us any aid, sir, from head- 
 quarters, I shall be happy to serve you," said 
 the Colonel, with military courtesy. 
 
 L 2 
 
220 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " I will not inconvenience yon, sir," said 
 the young manufacturer, proudly, r ^as lie 
 turned to the door. " If my workshops are 
 fired and my machinery destroyed by a mob 
 of midnight rioters, both of us will know who 
 I have to thank for the deed. I wish you a 
 good morning, Colonel Stopford," and he 
 turned upon his heel and walked away. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 221 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 As William Gladstone rode home, and in no 
 pleasant mood was the journey made, he had 
 ample time both to digest his anger against a 
 government which taxed the people to keep 
 up a large and expensive war establishment to 
 fight its battles in foreign countries, and yet 
 could not afford to check an incipient riot at 
 home, and to determine what course he should 
 pursue now he had only his own courage and 
 vigour to depend upon. 
 
 There was, however, one thing quite cer- 
 tain — he had become a marked man with the 
 Unionists, for he was unquestionably the 
 boldest the bravest and most energetic foe to 
 
222 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 their cause with whom they had to contend ; 
 and there was no doubt if things came to an 
 open rupture he would be made to feel the 
 first effects of the quarrel. 
 
 He could not sleep till he had done z erne- 
 thing, and after considering first one scheme 
 and then another over in his mind, he deter- 
 mined to consult Mr. Philips in this emer- 
 gency. Mr. Philips' works were the largest 
 in the cutlery trade, and if war were declared 
 between the two rival powers this gentleman 
 would to a certainty suffer as well as himself. 
 
 Philips' and Young's steel works were in 
 the neighbourhood of Halifax, but Mr. Philips' 
 mansion was about six miles from the town, 
 and as William had to pass it on his way, he 
 resolved to call there, hoping to find Mr. 
 Philips at home. 
 
 Those were not the days when an English 
 manufacturer imitated in his house and 
 grounds the palatial grandeur of Eaton Hall 
 or Chatsworth ; and the house, therefore, ta 
 which William turned his horse's head, was- 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 223 
 
 as plain and unpretending as the architect 
 could make it. It stood at a moderate dis- 
 tance from the road, and had no other orna- 
 ment than that which solid walls and spacious 
 windows could give, unless it was the park- 
 like grounds in which it was situated, beauti- 
 fully laid out, and looking much more exten- 
 sive than the j really were. 
 
 Mr. Philips was reported to be very rich ; 
 he was a widower with two daughters. Either 
 the knowledge of his wealth, or the ladies of 
 his family being all of a marriageable age, 
 made Mr. Gladstone something of a stranger ; 
 for he rarely visited there, notwithstanding 
 the owner was a kind, good-hearted man 
 of the world. William Gladstone was not a 
 money hunter, nor did he like the annoyance 
 of being looked upon in the light of an ad- 
 mirer of any woman whom he did not intend 
 to make his wife. 
 
 A footman in plain clothes answered the 
 bell, and from this man he learned that Mr. 
 Philips was at home, but had company. 
 
224 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " Perhaps lie can come and speak to me for 
 ten minutes," said Mr. Gladstone, who did not 
 like to have his trouble entirely for nothing. 
 " Tell him it is Mr. Gladstone, of Braids- 
 worth." 
 
 The man took the message, and very soon 
 returned to request William would dismount, 
 and join Mr. Philips and his friends, at the same 
 time ringing a bell, which summoned a groom, 
 to whom he consigned the visitor's mare. 
 
 " They are all gentlemen in your way, Mr. 
 Gladstone," said the man, who remembered 
 him, notwithstanding the infrequency of his 
 visits. " There is Mr. Young, Mr. Philips' 
 partner, Mr. Hill, of Halifax, and Mr. 
 Browne — " 
 
 " And what has brought them all here at 
 this time of day?" asked Mr. Gladstone. 
 
 " Why, I fancy there is mischief abrewing, 
 sir ; Mr. Philips is a very timid sort of man, 
 and our people have a mint of money locked 
 up in machinery in the workshops, and those 
 hang-gallows Union men — " 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 225 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! They've been threatening yon, 
 too, have they ?" said William, not very sorry 
 to hear that more than himself were com- 
 pelled to look about them at this particular 
 juncture. 
 
 " 'Deed they have, sir. Master got three 
 letters by the post yesterday, and at night 
 there was a coffin placed on the hall steps." 
 
 " Come, that's threat enough in all con- 
 science, my good fellow. I suppose the 
 rascals durst not venture to rouse the master 
 with so many grooms about the place?" 
 
 " Mr. Philips desired me to show you into 
 the room where he has his friends, sir," said 
 the old footman, bustling before the new 
 corner. " This way, if you please, sir," and 
 he opened the door of the dining-room and 
 announced Mr. Gladstone. 
 
 Mr. Philips came forward to greet him. 
 He was a large, florid complexioned man, with 
 much more of good nature than cleverness 
 depicted in his jovial looking face. 
 
 "I'm glad to see you, Mr. Gladstone," he 
 
 M 5 
 
226 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 said, holding out his hand. " Mr. Browne, 
 Mr. Gladstone. Mr. Young and Mr. Hill I 
 think you know. Let us have some clean 
 glasses, John. Come, Mr. Gladstone, take a 
 chair amongst us," and, resuming his seat, he 
 began to play with his gold watch chain. 
 
 He had no conversational powers ; but 
 William knew his man, and began speaking 
 at once. 
 
 " What is the matter in the iron and steel 
 trade, gentlemen, that I find you all assem- 
 bled here this morning ?" 
 
 Mr. Philips rattled his chain seals, and 
 knit his brows, as if in great perplexity. His 
 partner, Mr. Young, gave a hearty " damme," 
 whilst Mr. Browne threw himself back in his 
 chair, exclaiming — 
 
 " There is matter enough, Mr. Gladstone, 
 to make the boldest amongst us tremble." 
 
 " The long and the short of it is, gentle- 
 men," said William, with a smile, " you have 
 been threatened." 
 
 They had, every one of them. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 227 
 
 " Our foes must feel their strength, then. 
 They would scarcely have dared to threaten, 
 and throw down the gauntlet, unless they 
 were very confident of success." 
 
 " I hear they're six thousand strong," 
 said Browne, who was the youngest of the 
 party ; a bold-looking man, with short, black 
 hair, and a bull neck, " and, damme, Mr. 
 Gladstone, I believe it." 
 
 " And I," cried Hill. 
 
 " And so do I," both rejoined Philips and 
 his partner. 
 
 " I've had three threatening letters, and a 
 coffin," said Mr. Philips, piteously. 
 
 " A dozen saucy, hang- dog looking villains 
 favoured me with a call," said Browne, with a 
 sarcastic smile. " Curse 'em, they got more 
 than they expected by their visit. I set 
 my bull-dog upon them, and it would have 
 done your hearts good to see how the 
 cowardly vagabonds took to their heels. 'Pon 
 my life, I laughed till I almost cried." 
 
 Philips and Young laughed in chorus, and 
 
228 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 Mr. Phillips determined to get a brill-dog 
 the next day, in case he should be favoured in 
 his turn. 
 
 " I have been to York this morning,' ' said 
 William, who thought it best to know what 
 they intended doing. "I rode over to see what 
 aid we might depend on from the military.' ' 
 
 " And what promise did Colonel Stopford 
 give you, Mr. Gladstone ?" demanded Mr. 
 Philips. 
 
 " He promised not to help us," said Mr* 
 Gladstone, with a grim smile. 
 
 " They've sent a troop to Manchester, and 
 by heaven, sir, they must and shall do the 
 same by us," exclaimed Browne. 
 
 " I am afraid you could not convince Colonel 
 Stopford of the necessity," said William, 
 bitterly. " He says he cannot break through 
 the regulations of the service ; he must first 
 receive orders from head quarters." 
 
 " From head- quarters ! Curse him and his 
 head quarters too," cried Browne. 
 
 " Aye, and if he has to send to head- 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 229 
 
 quarters our factories may all be burnt down 
 by the time he gets his orders," said Mr. 
 Philips, excitedly. 
 
 " Curse me if I'll ask any of them for 
 help," said Browne, striking the table with a 
 fist that might have felled an ox. " I'll arm 
 my men with good stout blackthorn sticks, 
 and if any of the cursed Union men come to 
 see me, I'll send them away with something 
 more than a flea in their ears ; aye, and 
 quicker than my bull-dog made them scuttle 
 off last night." 
 
 " A great many of our men are Unionists, 
 I'm afraid," said Mr. Young, with an uneasy 
 glance at his partner ; "at least one half, I 
 should say ; and if we were to arm them to 
 defend us, in nine cases out of ten we should 
 be aiding them, in all probability, instead of 
 defending ourselves against our foes." 
 
 " I don't think they'll come as far as my 
 place," said Mr. Hill, with a self-satisfied 
 smile. " If they do, I'll drench them with 
 
230 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 the fire-engine, and give them a good ducking 
 for their pains.' ' 
 
 " They won't be deterred by that, sir," 
 said Mr. Grlad stone, who alone did not ap- 
 plaud the idea with a ]augh. " I think Mr. 
 Browne's idea is the best, and if we all agree 
 to aid each other, I think we need not regret 
 the want of the military. It seems Mr. 
 Browne's men and mine are to be depended 
 on standing by us in the matter, and I pro- 
 pose that we plant a guard, in turn, round 
 our works at night, to defeat the machinations 
 of the rascally Unionists." 
 
 " With all my heart," said Browne, empty- 
 ing the decanter into the tumbler he had 
 before him. " Do you all agree to that?" 
 
 Philips and Young were only too happy to 
 accede to the arrangement, conscious as they 
 were how little reason they had to depend 
 upon their own men. Now Philips, in fact, 
 would have yielded long ago to the demands 
 of the Union, had he not dreaded the ridicule 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 231 
 
 of his neighbours ; and this weakness, curi- 
 ously enough, only made him more detested 
 by his opponents, who hated his cowardly 
 vacillation more intensely than Mr. Glad- 
 stone's open, manly defiance. 
 
 " Well, then, gentlemen, I propose we go 
 about our business again," said Browne, 
 pushing back his chair. " Your way and 
 mine, Mr. Gladstone, are on the same road, and 
 we can easily arrange our operations as we 
 go along. Dang it ! the idea of a brush with 
 the rascals sets one's blood all a dancing in 
 one's veins. I should immensely have liked 
 being a soldier." 
 
 " Could you not send us over a few men 
 to night, Browne ?" asked Mr. Philips, who 
 trembled through all his ponderous limbs like 
 an aspen leaf. " We may be all in a blaze 
 by the morning, for what we can tell." 
 
 " ~No ! no ! To-morrow night at the earliest 
 is all we can promise," rejoined the other, 
 carelessly, as he shook hands all round. 
 " Don't frighten yourself, old boy, in that 
 
232 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 manner. The rascals are not prepared to 
 strike yet." 
 
 " I don't know that ; they'll come like a 
 thief in the night, when they do come," said 
 Mr. Philips. 
 
 " And we'll shoot them down like so many 
 dogs," said Browne, in great delight. " Come, 
 Gladstone, let's be off." 
 
 " We will let you know to-morrow what we 
 decide upon, Mr. Philips," said William, as 
 they stood at the front door. " I think we 
 need scarcely dread their coming to-night," 
 and he gave him a parting shake of the hand, 
 and rode away. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 233 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " You're just the fellow I want, Gladstone," 
 cried Mr. Browne, gaily, pulling up his horse, 
 which was as strong and black as himself, 
 alongside William's mare, after they had ridden 
 a couple of miles on their way home. " I've 
 long had a desire to play the spy upon these 
 infernal Union men ; but, dang it ! until I fell 
 in with you, I couldn't think of anyone that 
 had courage to join me." 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked his com- 
 panion, who scarcely understood him. 
 
 " One of our men belongs to the Union, 
 though he has not much fancy for the busi- 
 ness, and he told me a day or two ago the 
 
234 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 Unionists were to have a grand meeting to- 
 night, to discuss their wrongs, and determine 
 the reprisals on their masters. You and I 
 are sure to be marked out first for vengeance, 
 and I mean to go to the meeting dressed as a 
 working man, and discover what they intend 
 doing. It's a capital idea, isn't it ?" 
 
 " But how are you to get into the room ?" 
 asked William, who felt a great inclination to 
 accompany him. " I understand they are 
 very cautious who they admit." 
 
 " Brewster will take us. They know 
 Brewster well, and fancy he's heart and soul 
 with them. Come, say the word, and it's a 
 bargain. They meet at nine o'clock, and if 
 you come down to my place a trifle before 
 that hour I'll have a suit of fustians ready, 
 and we'll go down with Brewster, and get an 
 inkling into their intentions." 
 
 " If we should be detected ?" 
 
 " Detected !" echoed Browne, who insen- 
 sibly relapsed into the Yorkshire dialect when- 
 ever he got vexed, " Dang it, Gladstone ! I 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 235 
 
 thought thee a pluckier fellow thau thou 
 turn'st out to be. Come, we'll drop the sub- 
 ject," aud Browue rode ou with a scornful 
 sneer on his swarthy visage. 
 
 "It's only running the risk of a few hard 
 knocks," said William, laughing, as he joined 
 his companion again. "I'm your man, Mr. 
 Browne ! I'll be at your house between eight 
 and nine to-night." 
 
 " Thou'rt a man in a thousand, after all, 
 lad !" exclaimed Browne, grasping William's 
 hand in his huge horny fist. " There's no 
 need to be alarmed, for they daren't harm us, 
 even if we are found out. We'll disguise our- 
 selves, however, so that even our own mothers 
 wouldn't know us," and he laughed with 
 delight at the idea of outwitting the Unionists. 
 
 " What's the use of going back to Braids- 
 worth at all, Gladstone?" he demanded, the 
 next moment. " Come on to Bradford with 
 me, and stay at my house till night. Thou 
 wants a bit of rest, after riding all night." 
 
 " I must go home," said William, picturing 
 
236 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 to himself the uneasiness of his sisters at his 
 long absence. " Don't be afraid that I shall 
 fail you." 
 
 *'• I'se not afraid, man! Thou'st given me 
 thy word, and that's enough," said Browne, 
 good-naturedly. "Well, I suppose we part 
 here," he added, as they came to a cross-road, 
 which led in one direction to Bradford, and in 
 the other to Braidsworth. " Good-bye for a 
 bit," and he shook hands again ; then putting 
 his horse into a gallop, rode away, humming 
 a hornpipe. 
 
 "He's as bold as the devil!" muttered 
 William, as he looked after Browne's receding 
 figure ; " now for an explosion from old 
 Hannah," and he smiled unconsciously as he 
 busied himself with picturing her reproachful 
 
 comolaints for the trouble he hal cause! her. 
 
 i. 
 
 " Where have you been all dav, William?" 
 said Kate, who was the first person he saw, 
 on entering the house. " Frances told me 
 you had ridden over to York." 
 
 " And am back again, Kate," rejoined her 
 
THE GLADSTONE. 237 
 
 brother, in a tone of voice that completely re- 
 assured her, for Kate was very timid, and 
 dreaded the rioters almost as much as she did 
 the fever. 
 
 " "Will yon have some dinner, or shall I get 
 you a cup of tea ?'' 
 
 " Some tea, if you please. Where is 
 Frances r" he ashed. 
 
 " Down at the Eectory. By-the-bye, 
 William, the oddest thing in the world has 
 happened since you left us. The key of the 
 back door has been lost, and no one can ac- 
 count for it." 
 
 " That is a very extraordinary circum- 
 stance, Kate. Hannah must have laid it 
 awav, and can't recollect where." 
 
 Kate shook her head, as she said — 
 
 " Hannah declares she left it in the door," 
 but the smile that would show itself, in spite 
 of himself, on her brother's face revealed the 
 truth to her. 
 
 " How mischievous of you, William. If 
 you could only have seen us climbing out of 
 
238 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 the kitchen window whenever we wanted to 
 get into the pantry — oh ! it's very ridiculous,' ' 
 and Kate ran off with the key to annoy poor 
 old Hannah still more with the mystery. 
 
 There had been a great appearance of rain 
 all day, and by the time William had got his 
 tea it came down in good earnest. Frances 
 arrived from the Rectory completely drenched, 
 bringing with her rather melancholy fore- 
 bodings from Amelia Vinen, that it would 
 scarcely be possible the next day could be fine 
 enough to go to " Sunny side." 
 
 " If we wait patiently, Frances, we shall 
 see," said her brother, with his usual com- 
 posure. " I am glad the rain has come. One 
 has quite got to loathe this sunny weather; 
 it has lasted so very long." 
 
 " We rarely have to complain of such a fault 
 in England," observed Frances, who was all 
 life and animation ; perhaps, because Captain 
 Yinen had insisted upon accompanying her 
 from the Rectory to carry her umbrella. " You 
 must be very tired, William." 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 239 
 
 " I don't feel the loss of my night's rest, in 
 the least. That would have been nothing had 
 I succeeded in my object. However, we must 
 make up our minds, as we cannot get assist- 
 ance, to aid ourselves." 
 
 Frances looked so calm and secure that her 
 brother hoped she scarcely understood the 
 risk they ran. She was, however, perfectly 
 aware of it, but she was constitutionally 
 courageous, and what would have horrified 
 Kate scarcely agitated her younger sister, or 
 made her heart beat quicker than its wont. 
 
 " Are you going out again to-night, brother ?" 
 asked Frances, after having settled down to 
 her work. 
 
 " For a short time. I have to see someone 
 on business. I shall not be detained long." 
 
 She suspected the business was of no very 
 pleasant nature ; but she "made no remark at 
 the moment, and I William soon after arose 
 
 * it 
 
 and went out. 
 
 He was almost wet through by the time he 
 got to Bradford, notwithstanding the thick 
 
240 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 overcoat lie put on, and never did the town 
 look more dismal and forlorn to his eye than 
 as he rode through the streets, with the 
 smoke of numerous factories hanging like 
 a pall over the silent buildings that were 
 scarcely visible by the light of the flickering 
 oil lamps placed at considerable distances from 
 each other in the deserted streets. 
 
 Browne was waiting, ready dressed, for 
 him, with the man Brewster, who was to be 
 their guide. 
 
 " I thought the rain would have prevented 
 your coming, Mr. Gladstone," said Browne, 
 as he opened the door and admitted him into 
 a small sitting-room. " It is nine o'clock 
 already, and it will take us a quarter of an 
 hour to walk to the place of meeting. Take 
 off your clothes and put on these ; I think 
 they'll fit you tolerably well." 
 
 William perceived that there were three 
 pistols lying on the table. Browne laughed 
 as he took one up and put it into his breast 
 pocket, saying, drily, as he did so — 
 
THE GLADSTONES, 241 
 
 " I intend to be both forewarned and fore- 
 armed, you perceive." 
 
 " A good precaution, although I trust we 
 shall not require such befriending," said 
 William, who by this time had changed his 
 garments. "You have guessed my size to a 
 hair's breadth." 
 
 " And a deuced good-looking workman you 
 make in fustians, Gladstone," said his com- 
 panion, turning him round and round. " Now 
 wash your hands in that mixture," pointing 
 to a bowl of dark coloured liquid that stood 
 beside the pistols ; " such lily white paws as 
 you've got would betray everything." 
 
 William did so, and then, concealing his 
 pistols in the same manner as Browne had 
 done, the three men each drank a glass of 
 brandy, and started on their somewhat perilous 
 errand. 
 
 Brewster walked first at a quick pace, 
 diving into bye lanes which were quite un- 
 known to Mr. Gladstone, who only judged, 
 from the frequent plunges he made into rather 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
242 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 deep pools of water and mud, that little at- 
 tention was paid to the paving and flagging 
 of that quarter of the town, and more than 
 once he came in contact with a projection in 
 a wall that formed the boundary of the path 
 they travelled. 
 
 After a few minutes' sharp walking, they 
 came to the back entrance of a public-house, 
 and Brewster whispering to his master that 
 this was the place of meeting, they walked 
 slowly along until they met a man whom 
 William conjectured to be the landlord, and 
 who, merely observing that it was a rough 
 night, permitted them to proceed until the 
 passage opened out into a tolerably spacious 
 yard, dimly lighted by a solitary lamp that 
 only made visible the squalid untidiness that 
 reigned over the precincts. 
 
 " A cursed ugly place for a scuffle," mut- 
 tered Browne, pausing for a moment to peer 
 into the almost total darkness that enveloped 
 it. " We're in for it now, however," and he 
 stumbled after Brewster over broken pig 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 243 
 
 troughs, decayed barrels, and all the filth that 
 had been accumulating in this ill-favoured 
 spot for the last two years or more. 
 
 " For heaven's sake ! be cool, gentlemen,'* 
 whispered their guide, as he waited for them 
 to join him at the foot of a flight of stairs 
 that evidently led to a large loft. The 
 words were scarcely out of his mouth before 
 they were confronted by two thin, wiry look- 
 ing men, with whom Brewster exchanged a 
 few words in an under tone, and then Glad- 
 stone and Browne found themselves in the 
 presence of a large number of men, who were 
 closely wedged into a dense mass in front of 
 a kind of rude platform that had been erected 
 at the further end of the building, evidently 
 more for use than for show. 
 
 There were, probably, five hundred persons 
 in the room, and the smell that exhaled from 
 so many greasy fustians, soaked with wet, 
 was anything but agreeable to Gladstone's 
 fine senses. The loft was lit by a few gutter- 
 ing candles stuck into a large hoop in the 
 
 M 2 
 
244 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 centre of the place ; on the platform a table 
 was placed, on which stood candles placed in 
 a couple of stone beer-bottles. The platform 
 was crowded with dark, eager looking men, 
 and from the whole body arose a confused 
 hum of many tongues, as if every one was dis- 
 cussing his particular grievance in an under- 
 tone to his neighbour. 
 
 Brewster planted himself against the wall, 
 under the shade of a large beam that came 
 down from the ceiling, and his companions, 
 following his example, prepared to listen 
 to the proceedings. They were so far re- 
 moved from the lights that they were in 
 almost total darkness, invisible to most of 
 the others assembled, but enabled to see 
 pretty plainly everything that was going on 
 at a distance. Gladstone noticed with some 
 surprise that young Harry Jobson, who has 
 been mentioned as Sarah Crisp's lover, was 
 somewhat conspicuously placed just beneath 
 the platform. 
 
 After a short time there was a stir and 
 bustle in front of the platform, and the next 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 245 
 
 minute a flashily dressed, rather good looking 
 man, of abont three or four and thirty, came 
 forward, and, thrusting his hands beneath his 
 coat tails, began a frothy and specious address, 
 denouncing the masters as a set of hard- 
 hearted tyrants, who ought to be hanged for 
 grinding the poor man in the way the vile 
 manufacturers were doing, but which the 
 Union would shortly teach them would, unless 
 they changed their barbarous conduct, be the 
 siornino^ of their own death warrants. 
 
 " Tolerable that, eh ?" whispered Browne, 
 in rather a loud tone. " Come, that will do." 
 
 " That's their fancy orator, Mr. Smooth, as 
 they call him," whispered Brewster, who knew 
 the names of all the leaders. 
 
 The " fancy orator," as Brewster announced 
 him, had scarcely sat down before an old man 
 arose from the extreme end of the platform, 
 and begged permission to add a few words to 
 what the gentleman who had just spoken 
 had urged upon the notice of the meeting. 
 
 There was a remakable wildness in the 
 
246 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 appearance of this old man that attracted Mr. 
 Gladstone's attention, and even won his svm- 
 pathy, much more so than the flashy, clap- 
 trap address of Smooth. Tall, and very thin, 
 with an awkward attempt at ease, that only 
 made his ungainly figure more conspicuous, he 
 was one of the last people in the world you 
 would have expected to find standing forward 
 to address some hundreds of the keen, critical 
 men of Yorkshire, whose pale, earnest coun- 
 tenances were upturned before him. His face 
 was very pale, and looked almost unearthly, 
 with two dark, gleaming eyes flashing beneath 
 the shaggy lids, that in geueral almost con- 
 cealed them from view. 
 
 " I am a forgeman," he said, his further 
 speech being interrupted by a short hacking 
 cough, that seemed to rend his frame, and 
 which illustrated well enough his next words. 
 " I fear you will think I have no business 
 here — " 
 
 " Ye have ! ye have !" cried a hundred 
 voices in a breath. " Go on, old chap." 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 247 
 
 " I will go on then, mates," he said, as a 
 melancholy smile for a moment lit up his 
 hazard features. " These be terrible times, 
 my lads, for us working men, though the 
 drones that fatten on the honey we gather for 
 them think differently. We've tried fair 
 means long enow with 'em, and now we'll try 
 foul means. We've sent dippytations round 
 to ivry master, and they won't heed what 
 we've got to say. There's but one remedy 
 left us, and it's a varra fearful one — " 
 
 " Name it ! name it !" cried his excited 
 listeners. 
 
 " We'll fire the factories, one by one !" 
 cried the old man, holding straight out his 
 thin arms, whilst his eyes gleamed like glow- 
 worms beneath his shaggy brows. " There's 
 nothing else left for us to do." 
 
 "The infamous old villain ! ' ! exclaimed 
 Browne, forgetting, in his indignation, the 
 dangerous men by whom he was surrounded. 
 
 " There are traitors in the camp !" cried a 
 stentorian voice from the middle of the room, 
 
248 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 and Gladstone and his two companions saw 
 that every eye was turned to the spot where 
 they stood. 
 
 " Seize the traitors ! Strangle the villains ! 
 Gag them ?" cried a hundred voices. 
 
 "It's that bloodthirsty devil, Browne I 
 Strangle the spies I" said a voice close by. 
 
 In the midst of all the wild uproar, and 
 before one of the three had a hand laid upon 
 him the platform fell with a tremendous crash, 
 and at the same moment the hoop that sup- 
 ported the candles in the centre of the room 
 by some means got involved in the general 
 wreck, and the whole place was left in utter 
 darkness. 
 
 " Where are the spies ?" roared a hundred 
 voices in William Gladstone's ears, as he felt 
 himself hustled and pushed by the crowd ; 
 and so furious, in fact, was the onslaught 
 he would have been trodden down, and in 
 all probability killed, had not a strong arm, 
 which he supposed to be Browne's, upheld 
 him. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 249 
 
 " The floor is giving way !" roared a sten- 
 torian voice above all the din, and that selfish 
 love of life which predominates over all the 
 passions of human nature, in a moment in- 
 duced everyone to gain the door, through the 
 narrow opening of which the bewildered and 
 frightened Union men rushed pell mell like a 
 flock of sheep driven by the shepherd's dog. 
 
 "Be firm, and make a rush with the rest, 
 and we'll get safe out," whispared Browne, 
 whose iron nerves made him regard the whole 
 affair with as much indifference as if he had 
 been present at a play. " Follow that great 
 broad-shouldered forgeman !" Still keeping 
 hold of William's arm, and assisted by Brew- 
 ster, they squeezed and elbowed their way 
 out, at times completely lifted off their feet by 
 the pressure from behind, until they found 
 themselves in the open street, with the rain 
 still pouring down in a torrent that acted as 
 an effectual disperser of the crowd. 
 
 They took care not to look about them till 
 they got into a respectable part of the town, 
 
 M 5 
 
250 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 and then Browne shook himself like a huge 
 water-dog, and burst out into an uproarious 
 fit of laughter. 
 
 " We've had a jolly row, lads, haven't we ?" 
 he said, slapping Gladstone on the back. 
 " Bless me, man ! how my heart went pit-a- 
 pat, when I saw the infuriated beasts come 
 rushing towards us. Did you ever see such 
 an awful lot of devils, Gladstone ?" 
 
 " I certainly never did, Mr. Browne," said 
 William. " I wonder who it was befriended 
 us by extinguishing the lights ?" 
 
 " Some one that had no love for the Union. 
 I have no doubt it was done on purpose. 
 Well, it shall be a long time before I enter 
 upon another such an escapade, I promise you. 
 Dang it, we might have been murdered !" 
 
 " Might have been," rejoined Gladstone ; 
 " we should have been without judge or jury. 
 What a horrible night it is !" 
 
 " Beastly ! Come, we'll have a bit of some- 
 thing to eat, and another pull at the brandy, 
 and then you may just both take yourselves off 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 251 
 
 home. Weren't you in a devil of a fright, 
 Brewster ?" 
 
 " I was, indeed, sir. I thought of my wife 
 and the bairns when I heard that infernal 
 fiend yell out 'Traitors!' It was an awful 
 shriek. 
 
 " There's one thing pretty certain, they'll 
 break up without deciding whose place 
 should be fired first." 
 
 " It will be either mine or yours, I've no 
 doubt," said Gladstone. 
 
 " To a certainty," said Browne; " but that 
 need not disturb us to-night. We mustn't 
 let Philips and Young know of this bit of mis- 
 chief, at any rate. Here's my house, so step 
 in, lads." 
 
 A Yorkshire ham, a crusty loaf, and a 
 tankard of ale were soon on the table, and they 
 all three ate and drank with good will. 
 
 By the time they had finished their repast 
 it was eleven o'clock, and Mr. Gladstone was 
 about to sally forth to go home, when Browne 
 suddenly declared it was unsafe for such a 
 
252 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 marked man to go alone a distance at that 
 time of night. 
 
 " Just put the old pony into the gig, 
 Brewster," he said, " and I'll drive you home 
 myself, Mr. Gladstone; you're too good a 
 man for those cut-throat fellows to make a 
 target of," and as William had had full proof 
 of Browne's dogged self-will, he complied 
 without a word. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 253 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The next morning a brilliant sunshine and a 
 cloudless sky succeeded to the stormy, miser- 
 able night we have described. The earth, 
 parched with the long drought, had drunk in 
 with eagerness the copious showers that had 
 fallen, and June — pleasant June — never looked 
 more fresh and lovely than on the day when 
 William Gladstone and his sisters left home to 
 keep their appointment at ' Sunnyside ' — and 
 6 Sunnyside ' it really was. 
 
 Kate had already culled a beautiful bouquet 
 by the time Frances came down, and was 
 all impatience to be on the road. William, 
 
254 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 however, had not come up from the Foundry, 
 and Frances, who knew something of the risk 
 that her brother ran at this time, more than 
 suspected they were not to go after all. 
 
 " I hope, Frances, the breeze won't go down 
 until we get to ' Sunny side,' " Kate said, after 
 a pause. "The air smells so very sweet after 
 the refreshing rains of last night." 
 
 " It is a beautiful morning," said Frances, 
 abstractedly, for her thoughts were fixed on a 
 far different subject. " I wish our brother 
 would come, Kate." 
 
 " He is poring over those horrid plans, I 
 suppose," said Kate, petulantly. " How 
 hateful it must be to have one's husband what 
 they call a man of business." 
 
 " Do you think so, Kate ?" 
 
 " They are all so horribly selfish, and care 
 about nothing but their shops and factories, 
 Frances. It must be more pleasant to be the 
 wife of a country gentleman, whose time is all 
 his own." 
 
 " Like William Wilding, eh, Kate ?" 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 255 
 
 " Well ! like "William Wilding, if you wish 
 it," retorted Kate, looking up and blushing. 
 
 "What about William Wilding?" asked 
 Mr. Gladstone, overhearing the words as he 
 entered the room. 
 
 "Ask Kate, brother," said Frances. 
 
 " Nay, Frances ; you mentioned William 
 Wilding's name. It was something about — 
 but no matter. Pray let us get breakfast and 
 be gone," said Kate, confusedly. 
 
 " The phaeton will be here in half an hour, 
 so you must look sharp," said William, as he 
 began to cut the cold tongue that was placed 
 before him. "It is going to be a glorious 
 day. I declare, Kate has quite lost her appe- 
 tite." 
 
 " I always do when I am going away for 
 the day," she said, pleasantly. "Hannah, 
 please tie those flowers up for me." 
 
 " To be sure I will, Miss Kate," said the 
 old servant, good humouredly. " Here are the 
 three cloaks for ye ; it may rain when ye come 
 back." 
 
256 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " Rain ! with such an unclouded sky, you 
 silly old Hannah." 
 
 " 'Deed, Miss Frances, I've seen many as 
 fine a day end wi' storms afore now," said old 
 Hannah, with a sigh. " Come, here's the 
 phaeton in the yard, and ye may as well be off 
 and get your bonnets," and Frances slipped 
 away to make her simple toilet, and then, 
 hearing her brother's voice in the hall calling 
 for her to come, she ran downstairs to give 
 her parting injunctions to Hannah, after 
 which they were soon happily driving down 
 the little lane that led out upon the high road 
 to i Sunnyside.' 
 
 They could not have chosen a more pleasant 
 day for such an excursion, for there was just 
 breeze enough to subdue the heat of the sun 
 without disturbing the dust that had been laid 
 by the previous night's rain. 
 
 Kate was delighted with everything she 
 saw : now calling her sister's attention to the 
 hawthorns, white as snow, with " May," as 
 they call it in the North, standing out in de- 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 257 
 
 taclied clumps in the dewy meadows ; now 
 clapping her hands in almost childish glee as 
 she caught a glimpse of a timid doe with her 
 graceful fawn stealing away under the shade 
 of Squire West's ancestral elms. 
 
 Frances's joy was of a quieter kind, but r 
 perhaps, more real, for the landscape looked 
 so beautiful that she would have liked above 
 all things to have been permitted to enjoy it 
 in silence all the way to ' Sunny side.' 
 
 The white blossom of the plum and apple 
 trees made them look as if they had been sur- 
 prised by a snow storm; farm yards, snug 
 with corn stacks, and noisy with cackling hens 
 and bleating calves ; villages still and deserted 
 as if it were the depth of midnight ; and, 
 after a time, came the park gates of ' Sunny- 
 side,' opened by the gatekeeper's wife, who 
 had been waiting in the porch ready to re- 
 ceive them with a smiling welcome. 
 
 6 Sunnyside ' was not what is termed a 
 show place, although the grounds were con- 
 sidered very beautiful, and many people came 
 
258 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 from a much greater distance than Halifax to 
 enjoy a summer day's ramble amongst its 
 wild wood walks and romantic glades. It 
 had, however, a much greater charm than any 
 mere show place can have — a charm which 
 made even Mr. Gladstone admire it, and that 
 was its air of still and solemn antiquity. 
 
 The old house stood upon a lawn of the 
 greenest velvet, backed by fine old trees, 
 of which any nobleman, whose ancestors 
 came in with William the Norman, might 
 have been proud. A few grand old elms and 
 gnarled oaks were scattered about the turf, 
 and this was divided from the rest of the park 
 by a terrace, the stonework of which had 
 bsen for the greater part of a century entirely 
 concealed by a profusion of creeping plants, 
 that gave it the appearance of a hedge of 
 unfading green. The house itself was two 
 stories high, the balconies jutting out with 
 audacious irregularity, and had no end of 
 diamond-paned lattices, fantastic gables, and 
 superfluous chimneys, not one of which would 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 259 
 
 Miss Coulson have parted with for the 
 world. 
 
 She met her friends in the porch with a 
 frank welcome and heightened colour, chiding 
 them for coming late, and leading them at 
 once to a morning room, already pretty well 
 filled with people, most of whom they had 
 seen before at 6 Sunnyside.' 
 
 " Go and speak to mamma, Mr. Glad- 
 stone," she said, peeping in and then, draw- 
 ing Frances and Kate back again, continued 
 " Come this way, girls, and throw aside your 
 bonnets and shawls. You will want some 
 breakfast after such an early drive," and 
 as she withdrew with her companions Mr. 
 Gladstone went to pay his compliments to 
 Mrs. Coulson. 
 
 She was a lively, keen-looking little woman,, 
 and had the reputation of having been pretty 
 in her youth. Dressed in black satin, with 
 an Indian shawl thrown over her shoulders, 
 she looked almost pretty even yet, though her 
 hair was beginning to turn grey, and exacting 
 
260 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 Time had planted more than one crow's-foot 
 around the flashing eyes that looked their 
 brightest on this occasion. 
 
 " I am delighted to see you, Mr. William," 
 she said, shaking him warmly by the hand, 
 " why have you been such a stranger of late 
 at ' Sunny side ?' " 
 
 " I have been so immersed in business, my 
 dear madam," he replied, " that I have had 
 but little time to call even upon such a kind 
 friend as Mrs. Coulson." 
 
 "Avery poor excuse," said his lively hostess. 
 " I hope you have brought all your sisters." 
 
 " All but Sophia, who is at present on a 
 visit to her uncle Newman." 
 
 " I must call and see Miss Gladstone some 
 day soon," said Mrs. Coulson, whose keen 
 eyes had already forewarned her of the 
 entrance of Dr. Yinen's family. " Excuse 
 me for a minute, Mr. William," and she slipped 
 away to welcome them. 
 
 Miss Coulson had certainly invited all her 
 friends on this eventful day, and William felt 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 261 
 
 more than half tempted to wish himself 
 quietly back in his office, when he saw what 
 a laughing, flirting, quizzically disposed set 
 he had fallen amongst. There was Dr. Vinen, 
 portly and loud-voiced, as became the Rector 
 of Braidsworth, and beside him stood the 
 shadowy Curate of Sunnyside. 
 
 Shadowy the Curate was, both in purse and 
 person, for his income was little more than 
 a hundred pounds per annum — large enough, 
 some said, for his height, which was only five 
 feet two. He had a weak voice, to match 
 these two qualifications, and a subdued, 
 care-worn face, that hinted pretty strongly 
 he was not very happy. He had a mother 
 living in cheap lodgings at some obscure 
 village in Cornwall, to whom it was suspected 
 he allowed half his magnificent income, poor 
 fellow, and he would have found the remainder 
 less than sufficient had not Miss Coulson some 
 time before imbibed a sudden passion for 
 learning Latin. She paid him liberally, but 
 made very little progress. 
 
262 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 Sitting on a conch near the window, so 
 that he might bask in the sunlight, William 
 next observed Miss Coulson's guardian, Mr. 
 Banks, a gruff, ungracious old man, dressed 
 in a pepper-and-salt coat of antiquated cut, 
 a waistcoat of a gaudy flower pattern, and 
 knee-buckles. Mr. Banks had amassed a very 
 large fortune entirely by his own skill and 
 industry, having begun the world without a 
 sixpence, and many of the vulgar prejudices 
 he had imbibed in his youth still clung to 
 him. One of Squire Wilson's handsome 
 daughters was sitting beside him, driving him 
 almost distracted with her merry rattle. 
 
 "How d'ye do, Gladstone?" he said, ex- 
 tending a sinewy hand and grasping that of 
 William like a vice, " I scarcely should have 
 thought of meeting you here." 
 
 " Nor I you, Mr. Banks," rejoined William, 
 " I thought you avoided dissipations of this 
 kind." 
 
 " Mrs.Coulson would take no refusal," said 
 Mr. Banks, eyeing the talkative lady from 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 263 
 
 beneath his shaggy brows. " Will ye hold 
 your noise a wee bit, Miss Wilson," he added, 
 turning sharp round upon his lady companion, 
 who laughed more than ever at him. 
 
 " For shame, Mr. Banks," said Miss Wil- 
 son, shaking her fan at him. 
 
 " It's no shame at all, my lass," he said, 
 angrily; " I want to ha' a bit talk wi' 
 Gladstone here. What's the state of the 
 markets ?" 
 
 " Falling lower and lower every day, I am 
 sorry to say." 
 
 " Aye, and they'll fall still lower yet. 
 What are the Union men about, pray?" 
 
 " ISFo good, I'm afraid," said William, 
 " they threaten, in pretty strong terms, to 
 burn every mill and foundry in the district if 
 we don't yield to their demands." 
 
 "Ye're a cowardly lot !" retorted Mr.Banks, 
 with a sneer. " When I was a young man, 
 afore one of the foundry owners that were in 
 Halifax would have given in they'd have let 
 
264 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 themselves be torn limb from limb by wild 
 horses. But what do you intend to do, 
 lad?" 
 
 " To refuse their demands, of course," said 
 William. 
 
 " Eight ! Hang me, but I like your spirit 
 Gladstone. What's the matter, hinney ?" on 
 noticing that Miss Wilson was making a loud 
 outcry against him. 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Banks, you have spoiled my 
 scarf," groaned the lady, as she rescued the 
 gossamer fragments of her dress from beneath 
 that portion of the couch on which Mr. Banks 
 had been sitting. 
 
 " It had no business where it was, Miss 
 Wilson," he said gruffly; " don't make such 
 a clatter about it ; a needle and thread '11 
 soon put it to rights again." 
 
 It was a great relief to William that Cap- 
 tain Yinen at this moment came up and drew 
 him away. 
 
 " Let us get into the open air," said the 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 265 
 
 Captain, looking very hot and very uncom- 
 fortable, " what a mob of people there are 
 about one to be sure." 
 
 " Few of whom, I suspect, you know, 
 Alfred, eh ?" 
 
 " Scarcely one. Your sisters are walking 
 with Amelia on the terrace. Shall we join 
 them ?" 
 
 " Anything is preferable to this intolerable 
 crowd. Where is Miss Coulson ?" 
 
 " I scarcely know. I say, William, who is 
 that haughty looking gentleman in such close 
 confab with Miss Coulson' s mamma ?" 
 
 William looked in the direction Captain 
 Vinen pointed out, and for the first time no- 
 ticed a very handsome man, who was evidently 
 a clergyman, seated on the couch beside Mrs. 
 Coulson. They were conversing very earn- 
 estly, and yet, notwithstanding the interest 
 they both evidently felt in the conversation, 
 the young men could not help noticing that 
 the supercilious expression of countenance the 
 clergyman betrayed never forsook him. 
 
 vol. i. n 
 
266 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 Just at that moment "William happened to 
 glance towards the door, which Miss Conlson 
 was entering with an eager step, and the same 
 sunny smile that had illumined her features 
 throughout the morning. She advanced a few 
 steps, and then observing her mother and this 
 gentleman seated together, a sudden paleness 
 chased away the rose bloom, a spasm marred 
 the beauty of her face as she stole up to Mrs. 
 Yinen's chair. 
 
 William felt that something was the matter, 
 but he could not divine what, so he sum- 
 moned a little diplomacy to his aid. 
 
 " Alfred, don't you think your mother would 
 like a walk on the terrace?" he said, very 
 quietly. 
 
 "Eh! what? Oh! she'll do very well 
 where she is," said Alfred. 
 
 " I'm sure she looks faint. Come, we'll go 
 and speak to her." 
 
 And William moved off in the direction of 
 Mrs. Yin en. 
 
 Captain Yinen followed and rejoined him 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 267 
 
 just as his friend was recommending Mrs. 
 Vinen and Miss Coulson to take a turn on the 
 terrace. 
 
 " Mother, take my arm," said the Captain, 
 with the freedom of a favourite child; " this 
 room is really not fit for a Christian to breathe 
 in. Miss Coulson, make Gladstone happy by 
 giving him the opportunity of rescuing you 
 from certain death." 
 
 " I shall be very pleased to get a breath of 
 fresh air," said Agatha, hurriedly ; " this 
 room is really terribly warm." 
 
 It must have been to have taken all the 
 colour from her cheeks so wonderfully as it 
 had done in the last half dozen minutes. 
 
 They were threading their way through the 
 crowd, when Agatha's name was called behind 
 them, and Mrs. Coulson hurried up. 
 
 " Only think how charming, my love. By 
 the strangest chance in the world Mr. Briscoe 
 has just come from Scarborough." 
 
 William felt the little hand that rested on 
 his arm tremble as she turned round to wel- 
 
 n 2 
 
268 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 come Mr. Briscoe. Her words were quite in- 
 audible ; but Mrs. Coulson did not notice 
 this. 
 
 " It only needed this happy contretemps to 
 make our little entertainment a most delightful 
 reunion" said Mrs. Coulson, who seemed to 
 see no one but this Mr. Briscoe. "Mr. 
 Gladstone, I think you have met Mr. Briscoe 
 before." 
 
 Mr. Gladstone had not, but he did not care 
 to say so. He only felt for Miss Coulson, who 
 was evidently ill at ease. 
 
 " We were going upon the terrace," said 
 Mrs. Yinen at this juncture; "perhaps Mr. 
 Briscoe will join us ?" 
 
 " I shall be very pleased to do so," said Mr. 
 Briscoe, with great hauteur, and he placed 
 himself on the other side of Miss Coulson, 
 who relinquished William's arm, and walked 
 silent and restless between them. 
 
 The terrace was certainly a very charming 
 place, with flower beds and clumps of roses 
 set in the velvet turf, commanding a view 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 269 
 
 of the park with the masses of elm and beech 
 beyond it ; but beautiful as it looked in the 
 shifting sunshine and shadow, it did not please 
 Mr. Briscoe. 
 
 " You promised me, Agatha, you would 
 have those trees thinned before I came back 
 again," he said, with a freedom that ruffled 
 William inconceivably. 
 
 " We did not expect you back so soon," she 
 replied, with what William fancied to be a 
 contemptuous tone ; " and besides, Mr. Banks 
 would not consent." 
 
 " He certainly could not have known it was 
 my wish as well as your own." 
 
 " I think it would quite spoil the effect," 
 said Mr. Gladstone, addressing Miss Coulson. 
 " Recollect you can at any time cut those 
 fine fellows down, Miss Agatha ; but it would 
 take more than a lifetime to restore them, if 
 you wished it. Besides, they are quite far 
 enough removed from the house to disarm 
 any objection against making it gloomy. I 
 
270 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 certainly would not cut them down if they 
 were mine." 
 
 Mr. Briscoe's face said as plainly as face 
 could speak — 
 
 " Who the devil are you, sir, to stand be- 
 tween my requests and a few paltry trees ? If 
 I wish Miss Coulson to cut them every one 
 down and leave her park as bare as a fallow 
 field, you shall not interfere, I promise you." 
 
 " I think you are quite right, Mr. Glad- 
 stone," said Miss Coulson, with more spirit 
 than Mr. Briscoe fancied she possessed ; "I 
 certainly will not have my beeches cut 
 down." 
 
 " As you please, Agatha," said Mr. Briscoe, 
 in a cold tone. 
 
 Kate and Frances were sitting on a turf 
 seat at the end of the terrace, with Mrs. Yinen 
 and several gentlemen, amongst whom were 
 William Wilding and Captain Yinen. Miss 
 Coulson took the only unoccupied place, and 
 began to chat merrily, whilst a footman 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 271 
 
 handed refreshments. Mr. Gladstone and 
 Mi\ Briscoe were thns left standing together. 
 
 " Scarborough, I suppose, is filling very 
 fast," observed Mr. Gladstone, who felt himself 
 compelled to talk in spite of his dislike to his 
 companion. 
 
 " I'm sure I can't tell, sir. I only went 
 there from Devonshire two days ago," replied 
 Mr. Briscoe. " I hate the mob of a fashion- 
 able watering-place." 
 
 William thought the worst mob that ever 
 flocked there could not be more vulgar than 
 Mr. Briscoe ; but he remained silent, and be- 
 gan wondering how that gentleman came to ap- 
 pear amongst them on this very morning ; and 
 he arrived at the conclusion, at last, that Mrs. 
 Coulson had written for him. Mr. Briscoe 
 was evidently Miss Coulson's lover ; yet he 
 fancied he detected unmistakeable signs in that 
 young lady's behaviour that showed pretty 
 plainly she more than disliked him. 
 
 " Let us have a stroll through the woods," 
 cried Kate, jumping up. " The last time we 
 
272 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 were here, Agatha, we had a glorious scramble. 
 I recollect I tore a new silk spencer wofully, 
 and nearly sprained my ankle. Come, who 
 votes for my proposition?" 
 
 " I for one," said Wilding, offering her his 
 arm. 
 
 Mr. Gladstone chanced to be next Miss 
 Coulson. 
 
 " May I have the pleasure ?" he said, 
 colouring, in spite of himself, and offering 
 his arm. 
 
 She looked quickly round, and caught Mr. 
 Briscoe's stern eyes fixed upon her. Never- 
 theless she would not accept Ms escort, so 
 she said in the hurried tone that had jarred 
 so painfully upon William's ear once before 
 on this eventful morning — 
 
 " No, thank you ; I must go in to see if 
 mamma needs my help." 
 
 And she arose to go back to the house. 
 
 " Then I will go and sit in the drawing- 
 room," William said, in a low voice. " The 
 heat of the air oppresses me." 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 273 
 
 He walked back with her along the terrace. 
 
 " Who is Mr. Briscoe ?" he asked, on no- 
 ticing that gentleman, instead of accompany- 
 ing them, was strolling across the park towards 
 one of the doomed clumps of trees about 
 which they had had the discussion. " I don't 
 think I ever heard of him before." 
 
 " A relative of mamma's. He has a living 
 in Devonshire. I wonder you never met him 
 here before." 
 
 " He comes pretty often," thought her com- 
 panion, gloomily ; and then he added aloud, 
 " He seems to be a great favourite with Mrs. 
 Coulson." 
 
 She sighed, but did not reply ; and the sigh 
 made him nearly desperate. He could have 
 killed poor Mr. Briscoe at that moment. 
 
 " I am afraid you will find the drawing- 
 room a not very pleasant place to sit in," 
 Agatha said, kindly, as they entered the hall. 
 "It is so crowded with noisy, chattering 
 people, whom you don't know. Come in 
 here." 
 
 N 5 
 
274 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 She led him into the library, which faced 
 the north, and was as still and pleasant as 
 painted window and high bookcases, filled 
 with books, could make it. 
 
 " No one will disturb you here." 
 
 She stole away and closed the door before 
 he had time to answer her. 
 
 In an odd state of bewilderment, Mr. Glad- 
 stone seated himself in a luxurious easy chair, 
 and tried to think calmly and coolly of Mr. 
 Briscoe and Miss Coulson ; but for a long time 
 he was so perplexed he found the task very 
 difficult. The blush that mantled Agatha's 
 face as she left the room, the sigh that escaped 
 her when he observed Mr. Briscoe was a great 
 favourite with Mrs. Coulson, and the alteration 
 in her appearance when she first discovered 
 that gentleman's arrival, all came to his 
 memory, mingled with the haughty yet hand- 
 some face, and the evident loathing she had 
 for her intended husband. 
 
 It was clearly a long settled arrangement 
 that she was to marry Mr. Briscoe, yet he 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 275 
 
 had never heard of it before the night at 
 Braids worth Kectory, and had scarcely be- 
 lieved it at the time. 
 
 He believed it now. 
 
 After a time a manlier feeling came over 
 him, and he began to reason more seriously. 
 A book lay open on the table, as if it had been 
 lately read, and he glanced at it with some 
 curiosity, for he fancied Miss Coulson had 
 been reading it, and he wondered what were 
 her studies. It was a volume of " Spenser's 
 Faerie Queen," and he began to read where he 
 thought she had left off, feeling a pleasure in 
 the wild and beautiful story of Una that he 
 had never experienced before; and whilst be- 
 coming more alive to the feminine beauty of 
 Agatha's character, was convinced she was 
 far too good for Mr. Briscoe. 
 
 But he forgot everything that had occurred 
 during the day in the exquisite pleasure he 
 felt when at night, Frances being already 
 seated in the phaeton, they stood together 
 
276 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 under the cloudless sky, and Agatha's little 
 hand lay for a moment trembling in his. 
 
 He saw nothing but her graceful, drooping 
 figure as she stood on the steps, the blush and 
 the smile illuminating the sweet face that was 
 but dimly seen through the veil she had tied 
 over her head. He did not notice Mr. Briscoe, 
 solemn and haughty as ever, standing in the 
 shadow of the entrance -hall ; he was deaf to 
 Mr. Banks' awful voice, in no measured terms 
 cursing his coachman for not being punctual 
 to his time. 
 
 Under the cloudless sky William and 
 Agatha parted on the most eventful evening 
 in the lives of both. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 277 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 " How have you enjoyed your visit, "William ?" 
 was Frances' first question, as soon as they 
 were started on the road homewards. " I 
 have scarcely seen you since the morning, 
 and Kate and I were both sadly puzzled to 
 guess what could have become of you." 
 
 " I got tired of rambling about amidst such 
 a noisy crowd, and took refuge in the library," 
 was the answer, abstractedly given. " I hope 
 you have been gratified." 
 
 " Yery much indeed. Who is that haughty 
 gentleman, I wonder, who seems to consider 
 he has a right to monopolise Miss Coulson in 
 such a ridiculous manner ?" 
 
 " A Mr. Briscoe." 
 
278 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " Briscoe ! I never heard the name before. 
 He seemed to drop from the moon to disturb 
 all of ns. Amelia Vinen told me he and 
 Agatha are engaged, but I'm quite certain 
 Agatha hates him most cordially." 
 
 " You think so, do you, Frances ?" 
 
 "I do, brother ; I watched her countenance 
 when he came up and spoke to her. She 
 turned as pale as if she were going to faint. 
 Where does he come from, pray?" 
 
 " Devonshire, I understand." 
 
 " I am glad he's not a Yorkshireman," she 
 said, emphatically. " They may tolerate such 
 uncivil behaviour in that part of the kingdom, 
 but it won't suit us here. T wonder whether 
 he is rich." 
 
 " I fancy not ; I think it's Miss Coulson's 
 money, rather than her person, he wants to 
 wed," said William, after a pause. 
 
 " Shame on him, then," said his sister, in- 
 dignantly. " I do not know where he would 
 find a more thoroughly good and accomplished 
 wife." 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 279 
 
 William's heart throbbed as lie listened to 
 his sister's praise, and then, conscious that he 
 was exposing his own feelings, began to 
 admire the beauty of the night, pointing out 
 the sharp outline of the hills which by day- 
 light Frances knew familiarly, but which 
 by the present light looked picturesque and 
 odd enough. The road at length became so 
 beautiful with the mingled elements of wood 
 and water, seen by the silvery moonlight, that 
 he reined in the mare to a walk, and allowed 
 his sister to enjoy the simple, yet exquisite 
 treat, at her ease. 
 
 Presently they heard some one riding 
 rapidly behind them, and in a very short time 
 Captain Yinen joined them. 
 
 " I have left my father and mother behind," 
 said he, as William drew up to welcome him ; 
 " they got so enamoured of the moonlight 
 that I rode forward with the hope of overtak- 
 ing some of the party who preferred a quicker 
 march." 
 
 " You will have to ride further then, Alfred, 
 
280 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 I am afraid," said William, laughing. " You 
 see the pace we are going at." 
 
 "And fare worse for my pains, "William," 
 rejoined Captain Yinen. " Thank you, I would 
 rather not." 
 
 As he spoke he pulled in his horse to 
 Frances' side of the phaeton. 
 
 " There is a very unusual light just over 
 the village to-night," he said, a moment after. 
 " Did you not notice it on the higher ground?" 
 
 William answered in the negative, and be- 
 gan to examine the sky with some anxiety, 
 but the lane in which they were was so com- 
 pletely over- arched by trees that the faint 
 twinkling of a star at intervals through the 
 leaves was all he could discern. 
 
 " I hope there is not a fire," said Frances, 
 " they are such great misfortunes." 
 
 " It can be nothing else," rejoined her 
 brother, in a singularly low tone ; " none of 
 the foundry fires can be burning at this time 
 of night. Let us drive a little faster." 
 
 He gave the old mare a sharp touch of 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 281 
 
 the whip, that put her into a trot on the in- 
 stant. 
 
 Neither of the three spoke until they got 
 out upon the open country again, but one at 
 least of the party was watching every object 
 they passed, to catch the first red gleam of 
 the lurid firelight. He saw it reflected in the 
 waters below long before the trees permitted 
 him to see the heavens, and then merely said, 
 in corroboration of Captain Yinen's views — 
 
 " It is a fire, and a very bad one." 
 
 " Can you guess where it is ?" asked his 
 sister, struck by the peculiar tone of his voice. 
 
 " Not until we get further out of this con- 
 founded lane," said William, applying the 
 whip with greater vigour than his mare had 
 ever smarted under before. " When we get 
 to the brow of the hill I may be able to tell 
 you." 
 
 They relapsed into silence for the next 
 three-quarters of a mile, Frances employ- 
 ing the time in pitying the people who were 
 called upon to endure such a misfortune 
 
282 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 as this fire threatened, her brother in steeling 
 his mind to bear everything, if, as he dreaded, 
 that misfortune had fallen upon himself. 
 
 " I think it cannot be very far off," said the 
 Captain at last ; " if it is it must be a terrible 
 conflagration indeed." 
 
 Neither of his companions answered, for the 
 place William had named as that from 
 which they could obtain a good view of the 
 valley beneath, was just on the point of being 
 gained. Had Frances been aware of what 
 was passing in her brother's mind, she would 
 not have mistaken the half-smothered prayer 
 that burst from his lips at that moment, as 
 the mare, startled by the sudden light, reared 
 upon her haunches, threatening instant des- 
 truction to the occupants of the phaeton. 
 
 William's voice calmed her in a moment, 
 and then Frances, looking up, saw the sky 
 above red with flame, and all within the wide 
 circle of hills around them lit up with a lurid 
 light that made her close her eyes with sudden 
 fear. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 283 
 
 " Good Heaven ! It must be the foundry," 
 she heard one of her companions exclaim, in 
 a tone of terror, and looking up she distinctly 
 saw her brother's blanched cheek, as he strove 
 to determine whether it was so or not. 
 
 He was out of the phaeton the next moment, 
 exclaiming — 
 
 " For the love of God, Alfred, lend me your 
 horse. Drive my sister home, there's a good 
 fellow, and then follow me; quick! quick!" 
 and as Captain Yinen dismounted, he sprang 
 into the empty saddle, applied the whip im- 
 petuously, and was out of sight in an instant. 
 
 " I hope my brother's suspicions are incor- 
 rect," said Frances, as Captain Yinen seated 
 himself beside her, " It cannot be the foun- 
 dry. How could it get on fire ?" 
 
 " Yery easily," rejoined her companion, 
 urging the mare into a gallop. " I am afraid, 
 Miss Frances, it is the foundry." 
 
 "What will become of my poor brother?" 
 sobbed Frances, in great terror ; "it was 
 only this morning he was rejoicing at the 
 
284 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 prospect of being fully employed all through 
 the winter ; and now this misfortune has 
 come upon him." 
 
 " Do not alarm yourself for him. Gladstone 
 has that within him which would triumph 
 over twenty fires. Now, look, for you know 
 eyery landmark here about much better than 
 a stranger like myself. Is that huge mass 
 of lurid flame down below there your brother's 
 foundry or not ?" 
 
 Frances looked. Captain Yinen had stopped 
 the mare on the brow of a hill, from which the 
 yillage of Braidsworth was easily discerned in 
 this sudden and terrible illumination. He 
 beheld the church windows flashing ruby red, 
 distinguished the Rectory — its gardens — and 
 a little beyond a street of cottages, at the end 
 of which loomed a lofty chimney, around 
 which the red, forked flames leaped and 
 played as if already rejoicing over its prey. 
 
 It was the chimney of Mr. Gladstone's 
 foundry, and jammed in on every side, 
 swarming about the engines, helping or re- 
 
THE GLADSTONES, 285 
 
 tarding the efforts of the firemen, was a sea 
 of upturned heads that heaved to and fro 
 as the crowd swayed backwards and for- 
 wards. 
 
 A moment after she saw a horseman ride 
 up and dismount. She watched him give his 
 horse in charge to someone at the edge of the 
 crowd, and push his way through until he 
 was lost to her view. 
 
 " "Would you take charge of me if I could 
 make my way down there, Captain Vinen ?" 
 she asked, as a sudden thought entered her 
 mind. " I must be there as well as my bro- 
 ther." 
 
 " Command me in any way you please," he 
 said, eagerly, as the vehicle rolled on. " I 
 think I can get you very near the fire without 
 encountering the crowd. I am glad to see 
 you take it so calmly." 
 
 Frances shook her head as she said — 
 
 " None of us will realise this new misfor- 
 tune until the time for exertion is past. I 
 
286 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 hope and trust William is insured; that 
 will alleviate the evil a little." 
 
 " I think he is ; I am sure he is too prudent 
 to run such a heavy risk as he would incur if 
 he was not," said her companion, as they 
 drove up to " The Rookery." " Can Hannah 
 take the mare out of the phaeton. I dare say 
 your man will be, like everyone else, at the 
 foundry." 
 
 " Let us do it ourselves," said Frances, 
 springing out. " Perhaps the poor old woman 
 is asleep by this time." 
 
 " It's a pitiful heart with which I have to 
 welcome you home, Miss Frances," cried a 
 rough, hoarse voice, as the door opened, and 
 poor old Hannah ran out into the yard. "It's 
 sad work that when Mr. William — God 
 bless him ! — goes out for a day to tak' holiday 
 from the foundry this calamity comes." 
 
 " Perhaps, Hannah, things may not turn 
 out so bad as we think they are," said Frances, 
 who was far too busy with buckles and girths 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 287 
 
 to give much heed to the old servant's dis- 
 tress. " I am going down to the village with 
 Captain Yinen, to see if I can be of any use 
 to my poor brother. You had better keep up 
 a good fire, and have something to eat and 
 drink ready by the time we come back again ; 
 bring the lantern out of the kitchen to enable 
 Captain Yinen to put the mare into the 
 stable." 
 
 Astonished at her young mistress's cool- 
 ness, old Hannah went back to her kitchen 
 and brought the lantern as she had been 
 desired. 
 
 A thought struck Frances as she was 
 standing waiting in the yard, whilst Captain 
 Yinen was littering some hay down for the 
 mare. She ran upstairs and found a thick 
 woollen shawl and a pair of clogs, and armed 
 with these, she came down again and was 
 waiting for him before he was ready. 
 
 " If you cannot get me into the foundry 
 yard get me as near it as you can," she said, 
 as they walked off at a quick pace. " Do not 
 
288 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 be afraid of my fainting, or doing anything 
 else equally ridiculous and unnecessary. I can 
 bear everything now that I have braced my 
 nerves up for any contingency." 
 
 " I will not take you where there is any 
 danger," he said, with the quiet decision that 
 Frances had already detected in him more 
 than once. " The foundry yard will be full of 
 firemen and engines, and ankle deep with 
 water. I will not take you there." 
 
 " There is Braidsworth Lane." 
 
 "I can see at least a thousand human 
 heads in it from here ; listen, and you will 
 hear their horrid oaths and yells." 
 
 " But I wish to be near my brother," urged 
 Frances, whose courage rose the higher with 
 every fresh effort he made to damp it. " I 
 am not afraid of the crowd in the least." 
 
 " You will not do him any good," he said, 
 stopping short altogether. " If you choose I 
 will take you into the Mill Croft, which is very 
 near the foundry, but quite far enough re- 
 moved from the crowd to prevent your being 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 289 
 
 annoyed ; the wall is very low, and you can 
 easily climb it." 
 
 " Take me wherever you think best," said 
 his companion, hurriedly. " If you will 
 venture with me into Braidsworth Lane, I 
 will go there." 
 
 " I will not trust you there," said he, using 
 the tone of authority he had already employed 
 more than once. " Make your selection ! 
 Consent to go to the Mill Croft, or stay with 
 old Hannah." 
 
 She clung closer to his arm, as he spoke, 
 and Captain Yinen interpreting this into sub- 
 mission to what he judged best, walked on as 
 rapidly as he could towards the fire. Frances, 
 at times, had almost to run to keep up with 
 him, but this she did not care for, as long as 
 the distance between the foundry and her- 
 self was every moment becoming less. The 
 light from the fire had by this time made the 
 road they traversed as bright as noonday, so 
 that they had little difficulty in finding the 
 field in question. 
 
 vol. I. o 
 
290 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 The wall, as Captain Vinen had said, was 
 not very high, and a place was soon fonnd, 
 which being in a rather dilapidated state, 
 enabled her to scale it with comparative ease. 
 Immediately beneath was Braidsworth Lane, 
 crammed full with thousands of human beings, 
 whilst right in front stood Mr. Gladstone's 
 foundry, now, alas ! apparently doomed to 
 inevitable destruction. 
 
 For one moment Frances's breath came and 
 went, and she felt a fearful sensation of faint- 
 ness and terror ; she almost immediately, 
 however, conquered this feeling, and stood 
 silent, awed, yet perfectly calm beside her 
 companion, scarcely daring to stir or draw 
 breath, and watching with intense interest 
 the progress of events. 
 
 The crowd struck her as being singularly 
 silent, now that the first outburst of excite- 
 ment had spent itself, and looking down upon 
 the bewildering mass of upturned heads, lit 
 up by that lurid light, she was at once aware 
 of the cause ; there was none of the usual 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 291 
 
 excitement one sees at snch scenes visible in 
 those sad and mournful countenances. As 
 rafter after rafter fell, sending a dense mass 
 of sparks into the night air, a low suppressed 
 murmur burst from their heaving ranks, 
 which her ear was but too ready to interpret 
 into an expression of grief and despair. 
 
 Her own family was not the only one in 
 Br aids worth that had cause to mourn the 
 calamitous event of the night, for many a 
 poor fellow saw his last hope of better days 
 disappear, as the roof of William Gladstone's 
 workshops fell in with a fearful crash. 
 
 Captain Yinen soon began to grow fidgety 
 and impatient, as he stood eyeing the clumsy 
 manner in which the firemen set about carry- 
 ing the hose up one quarter of the building 
 which as the fire had not yet touched it, and 
 the wind was veering round, there might still 
 be some chance of saving. 
 
 " The dolts ! the fools ! " Frances heard 
 him mutter beneath his breath. 
 
292 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 " They will let the flames get hold before 
 they can get the hose carried up." 
 
 He took a step or two forward, and came 
 back to her side again, and she heard him 
 mutter an oath as one great clumsy fellow let 
 the hose slip through his hands when half way 
 up the ladder. 
 
 " Miss Frances," he said, abruptly, " I 
 must not waste my time here, when I can be 
 helping those useless fools yonder. You are 
 perfectly safe, and I am sure you will excuse 
 me when your brother's interests are at 
 stake." 
 
 " For God's sake go at once, Captain 
 Yin en," said Frances, eagerly. He had leaped 
 the wall and disappeared before the last word 
 died upon her lips. 
 
 There was something almost awful in the 
 sensation she now experienced, in finding her- 
 self quite alone, looking down upon the terrible 
 element of destruction before her ; all around 
 the crowd hurled hither and thither as their- 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 293 
 
 terror drove them, the roaring of the fire and 
 the dull splash of the water as it fell against 
 the walls, or hissed over the burning rafters, 
 the shrill cries of the firemen, mingled with 
 shrieks for help among the crowd, and above 
 all the fear she felt for her brother's safety- 
 were enough to appal a much stouter heart 
 than Frances Gladstone possessed. 
 
 Her eyes ached with straining to discover 
 either her brother's figure or that of Captain 
 Yinen amongst the crowd ; she hid her face, 
 resolved not to look again, when a new sound 
 struck on her ear. It grew upon her until it 
 burst into a perfect cheer, and looking up, 
 Frances saw a solitary figure perched at a 
 dizzy height upon the ladder, directing one of 
 the hose at that part of the works which were 
 still free from fire. 
 
 It was evidently a post of great danger, for 
 the flames were leaping around this man in 
 all directions, and at times, when the wind 
 swept a cloud of smoke and sparks between 
 
 o 3 
 
294 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 him and the crowd, Frances' heart died within 
 her, as she remembered the risk he ran, but 
 when the wind again swept the smoke away 
 the intrepid seaman was once more visible on 
 his dizzy height ; and her spirit rose with the 
 deafening cheer that burst from the spec- 
 tators. 
 
 Presently Frances was aware that someone 
 was standing near her, but at first she took 
 no notice, so completely was her every feeling 
 absorbed in watching the spectacle before her. 
 The intruder, however, kept creeping nearer, 
 and recollecting that Captain Yinen had left 
 her, she looked round in some trepidation. 
 
 It was only a female, and coming forward 
 Frances discovered it to be Sarah Crisp ; she 
 had no bonnet on, a thin shawl was thrown 
 over her head and secured beneath her chin, 
 and her dress betrayed marks of carelessness, 
 as if she had caught up the first thing that 
 came in her way and ran out with it in her 
 hand. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 295 
 
 " Mr. Gladstone called on father in coming 
 past, Miss Frances," were Sarah's first words, 
 " and as mother was sitting np with Jessie, 
 I ventured out to see if I could do anything, 
 but indeed the sight is so horrible that I came 
 up here to be out of harm's way. Father is 
 in the middle of it all, I know ; and I wish no 
 harm may come to him." 
 
 "Did you venture down, Sarah?" asked 
 Frances. 
 
 " Just for a bit at first, but I soon crept 
 away again, miss," rejoined Sarah, " the 
 crowd down in Braidsworth Lane is ten times 
 worse than the fire." 
 
 " And that is bad enough," said Frances, 
 in a low voice. 
 
 " It is, indeed ; there will be many a sad 
 hearth by to-morrow night at this hour," said 
 the girl, sadly. " It will kill father, I know it 
 will," and she burst into tears. 
 
 Frances thought it by no means the least 
 strange circumstance of this eventful night, 
 
296 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 that she should undertake the part of com- 
 forter when she stood so much in need of 
 being comforted herself. Sarah's grief, how- 
 ever, was so touching that it was impossible 
 to avoid pitying her, even though the com- 
 forter's heart also seemed breaking. 
 
 " Don't fret in that way, Sarah," she said, 
 taking the poor girl's clay-cold hand, " some- 
 thing will be done to help those that will 
 suffer the most by this calamitous misfor- 
 tune." 
 
 Sarah shook her head as she said — 
 
 " Father's so broken-hearted already, Miss 
 Frances, that he'll never struggle through 
 this night's work, I fear. You can't imagine 
 what a change has come over him within the 
 last week." 
 
 " Has he taken little Jessie's illness so 
 much to heart ?" asked Frances, as the girl 
 looked into her pale, anxious face. 
 
 " It's not that alone, miss, although to be 
 sure Jessie's sickness frets him more than 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 297 
 
 enough/' sighed Sarah, whose large dark eyes 
 seemed to reduce her thin white face to a 
 shadow; "but there's mother sinking fast, 
 and what with that and Fanny's leaving us, I 
 dare say he'd as soon be under the ground as 
 upon it, if it was God's will !" 
 
 Frances was inexpressibly shocked, and her 
 manner showed it as she said — 
 
 " It is very wicked, Sarah, to murmur at 
 the burden God puts upon us." 
 
 " But it's not God's will, Miss Frances, 
 that we should starve," said the girl, with the 
 boldness of despair. " He sends meat enough 
 for all, the preacher tells us at church every 
 Sunday." 
 
 " And always will, I trust, Sarah. Did you 
 not hear that my brother had received a large 
 order only yesterday, which would have kept 
 all the men he could employ at full work dur- 
 ing the year?" 
 
 Pale as was her companion's cheek before, 
 it grew paler at these words. The news had 
 
298 THE GLADSTONES. 
 
 so different an effect to what Frances had 
 anticipated, that she had some doubts whether 
 Sarah exactly understood what she had said, 
 and was therefore about to repeat the words, 
 when the poor girl seized her hand as she de- 
 manded — 
 
 " And did everyone know of this, Miss 
 Frances ? Did Mr. Gladstone's own men 
 hear it ?" 
 
 " They certainly knew it to-day, at any 
 rate," was the answer. 
 
 Sarah dropped the hand she had been hold- 
 ing with so firm a grasp, and for a moment 
 stood as if lost in thought, whilst Frances 
 watched by the lurid light the changes that 
 passed over that sickly but not unpleasant 
 countenance. 
 
 " I dare not stay out longer," Sarah said, 
 as she drew her thin shawl farther over her 
 head, and turned as if to go ; " mother will be 
 wondering where I am, and I must have 
 something ready against father comes in. 
 
THE GLADSTONES. 299 
 
 But, oh, Miss Frances ! I'm afraid there will 
 be worse news yet of this night's work!" 
 
 With a heavy sigh, poor Sarah flitted into 
 the darkness, and Frances was again alone. 
 
 end or VOL. I. 
 
 T. C. Newbt, 30, Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square, London. 
 
/'A