^^" ^s^ ■\ ^ r X\ E. RAFLY OF THL U NIVLRSITY Of ILLINOIS RB33\ v.l ^ u- 10 JOSEPH WILMOT; OB, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. BY GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS, atTTHOB OV TITE PIEST AND EECOjrD SEEIES OP " THE MT9TEEIES OP XOS'DON," " TffE MTSTEEIES OP THB COrET OP XOyCON," "THE SEAMSTEESS," "THE BEONZE STATUE," " PAt'ST," " THE NECEOMANCEE," " THB MASSACBE OP GLEITCOE," " POPE JOAN," " THE PIXT," " EOBEET MACAIEE," " Jf AET PEICK," " THE DATS OP HOGAETH," " KE?f ITETH," '' WAGKEE, THE WEHE- TTOLP," "THB BOLSIEB'S WIPE," "THE ETE H0U8B PLOT," " THE COEAX ISLAHD," &C., &C. WITH FIFTY-TWO ILLUSTRATIONS, BY EDWAED COEBOULD. VOL. L LONDON: PUBLISHED, FOR ME. EEYNOLDS, BY JOHN DICKS, AT THE OmCB, No. 7, ■WELLINGTON STREET NORTH, STRAND. 1864 ^ ^ INDEX TO THE ENGRAVINGS. ^' WO. 1. 2. 3. 4. 6. 6. 7. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 4^1.. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. Joseph Leaving School • Joseph and Mr. Dehoar • The Hiimpback . . Joseph, Mrs. Lanover, and Annabel The Post-chaise Joseph and Charles Linton Sir Malcobn Wavenham and Violet The Drowned Peasant Charlton Church-yard . Joseph and the Young Lady Joseph and Annabel . . Miss Dakin and Joseph . Joseph in Trouble Charlotte Miirray and Joseph Violet, Charlotte, and Sir Malcolm Lady Calanthe and Joseph The Arrival at Salisbury Joseph's Illness . ' An Incident in Violet's History The Horrible Picture Calanthe and Joseph . . Mr. Franklin at Mrs. Eobinson's Joseph and his Fellow-servants Joseph in the Dungeon First View of Inch Methglin . The Village of Methglin . Lennox and Emmeline , Joseph's Journey . . Emmeline and Joseph , Sir Alexander Carrondale Joseph Preparing for the Flight The Arrival at the Inn Mr. Dorchester . . Joseph and his Landlady . The Commercial Traveller . Joseph and Mr. Games Henley and the Highwayman Joseph and Calanthe . Joseph and Mrs. Foley . Sir Matthew Heseltine Joseph Heading to Sir Matthew Mrs. Foley and Joseph The Porter's Lodge Joseph and the Lawyer . * The Departure for Heseltine Hall The Fire . The Chapel at the Chateau The Bank-notes Joseph and Amelie . . The Escape from the Cab The Appointed Spot . . The Duel . See Fage 6 12 . 20 28 . 37 45 . 52 60 . 67 78 . 87 95 . 103 110 . 116 125 . 130 139 . 150 159 . 168 175 . 180 189 . 200 208 . 215 218 . 229 240 . 248 251 . 258 267 . 277 282 , 290 298 . 308 317 . 322 336 . 339 346 . 355 363 , 370 379 . 389 399 . 408 410 '^":^b INDEX TO VOL. I. Cb»pUx I. The Sckool . . . . II. London ■ . • . • III. My ¥ew Friend . . rV. Mendicity, and Its Eesults . V. The Museuin.-.-The Humpback . VI. The Incidents of a Night • VU. Annabel VIII. Sorrow and Strife IX. Female Apparel . . X. An Adventure . . XI. Charlton Hall ... XII. The Bousteads XU.* Behind the Scenes . XIIL Father and Son . XIV. A Devonshire Superstition XV. Midsummer's Eve . XV.* The Xast Visit of tho Boustaade XVI. Mr. Eidley XVII. The Man in Possession XVIU. The Billet XIX. The livertous of Myrtle Lodge XX. What Does it all Mean ? . XXI. A Visitress . XXII. Mystery and Trouble . XXIII. The Coaoh House . XXIV. Charlotte Murray XXV. Charlotte's Xarrativo XXVI. Lady C&lanthe . 1 5 9 13 16 22 27 31 34 37 42 46 50 53 59 62 66 70 74 77 82 86 92 99 102 109 114 117 Chapter XXVII. A Surprise „ XXVIII. My Next Place „ XXIX. Midsummer's Eve Again . „ XXX. My Chamber .... „ XXXI. The Twin Sisters . „ XXXII. Cheltenham .... „ XXXIII. The Eoom of the Dreadful Picture „ XXXIV. The Gtovemess „ XXXV. The Opportunity . „ XXXVI. Eichard Franklin „ XXXVII. Infatuation and Its Eesults „ XXXVIII. An Encounter With Old Acquaintances „ XXXIX. Terrors and Dangers „ XL. Scotland . ... „ XLI. Inch Methglin „ XLII. The Lovers . . „ XLIII. Carrondale .... „ XLIV. Another Visit to the Village „ XLV. The Excursion „ XLVI. Sir Alexander Carrondale . . „ XLVII. A Decisive Step . „ XL VIII. The Hotel at Perth . „ XLIX. Mr. Dorchester . . . „ L. Manchester ..... „ LI. The Marquis of Chilham . . „ LII. The White Cottage „ LIII. Heather Place . . ' . „ LIV. The Mysteries of Heather Place . „ LV. The Secluded Lady „ LVI. My Child ..... „ LVII. The Heath . . . „ LVIII. Heading ...» „ LIX. Au Eccentric Master . . „ LX. The Bagman . . , , „ LXI. The Trial .... „ LXII. Heseltine Hall . „ LXIII. Family Matters „ LXIV. The Ecclestons .... „ LXV. The Journey . . , „ LXVI. The Baronet and Myself „ LXVII. The Fire .... „ LXVIII. The Chateau .... ,j LXIX. The Cojapact . . , „ LXX. Paris ..... TXGH 123 128 135 138 143 154. 157 163 167 171 175 181 186 195 202 2ia 218 223 230 240 246 252 256 263 271 277 283 288 293 295 302 312 320 326 331 336 341 345 351 356 360 3ol 371 376 PAGB Chapter LXXI. The Duke and Duchess de Paulin . . . . , ,384, „ LXXn. The Tale , . 389 „ LXXni. The Cab , .397 „ LXXIV. The Conclave. ....... 400 „ LXXV. Monsieur Lamotte ........ 406 „ LXXYI. Eugenie . . , . . » , . .412 JOSEPH AV I L M T ; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. I'',: CnAPTEE I. THE SCHOOL. — whicli was situated in the ncighbourliood of Leicester— I had no associations. I never remem- bered to have been elsewhere : no happy homo received me when the half-yearly holidays came round. I never had experienced any parental I WAS Mteen years of age when tne senooiiua»t«r, care : I was told that my father and pother had at whose estallishment'l hod been brought up both perished of --;Fclom.c -^^^y when I from my eaidiest infancv, was seized with apoplexy was a babe m my cradJe. I had no lelatives nor anTdTed^ a few houiL Beyond this seminary ! friends-at least not to my knowledge: for none I WAS fifteen years of age when the schoohnaster, JOSJiPn WILrilOT; on, THE lIBMOia,? OP A MAK SERVAJTT. eyep came to see mo. I was not awaro ll0^v it had happened that I was placed at this school, nor who paid for my raaiutcuancc there. All Tay experiences were those of a friendless orphan ; and I was oven ignorant for what profession, trade, or calling I might have been destined — what views might have been entertained concern- ing mc — and whether there were persons in the world sufficiently interested in me to have any such views at all. Mr. Nelson's academy was what might be termed a second-rate one, — the boys for the most part consisting of tradesmen's sons ; and thus the education we received was far more of a com- mercial than of a classical nature. The echolors in the higher classes, however, Icarat Latin ; — while such accomplishments &s drawing and dancing were considered as extras, to bo paid additionally foi", — and for which no provision was made on my account. It v/as a cheap school, the terms averaging from thirty to thirty-five l^ounds a year. There were altogether about twenty boarders, arid double that number of day- scholars. Mr. and Mrs. Nelson, who kept this seminai'y, had iio eliildren of their own : thoy were elderly people, — practising a great deal of mean- ness mider the name of economy, and stinting their pupils very much in respect to fare with the pretence of the most sedulous regard for their health. At the same time there was no positive cruelty in their treatment towards us ; and during the holidays, when I was the only scholar who, liaving no home to go to, remained at the academy, I occasionally experienced some little indulgences. For these I was indebted rather to Mr. Nelson than to his wife, he being the kinder of the two. But even if I had been surrounded with all l^ossiblo comforts, and had found myself the object of the most affectionate attentions, — these could not have compensated for the want of that happy variety and the absence of those cheering influences which are only to be found in the love of parents and in periodical visits to home. My life at school was therefore a monotonous and on unhappy one ; and H I were not naturally of a somewhat gay disposition, I should have pined and sickened with sorrow at such a mode of existence. Even as it wa.<), my heart used to be riven with the sorest pangs when " breaking-up day " arrived — when the joyous voices of my school- fellows combined in the thrilhng chorus of the lioliday songs — when the boxes were packed up, all save mine — and when I heard them gleefully tolling each other how they should amuse them- selves, and what diversions would bo certain to await them at the parental dwellings to which they were about to repair. And then, too, when they were all gone and I was left alone in the spacious school-room, how my yoimg heart swelled almost to bursting ! — what suffocating sobs rose up in my throat ! what bitter scalding tears rained down my cheeks ! Some of the boys were wont to promise that they would ask then- fathers and mothers to imnte " Pretty Joo " — for that was the name by which I was famiharly called— to pass a few days at their house ; and at first I was com- forted by this prospect of going even amongst strangers: but doubtless the fathers and mothers thought it was quite eufhcient to have their own chikbcn to keep, to amuse, and to divert, without caring about a stranger-child, — for the invitations never arrived; so that at last, when breaking-up days came round again, and those promises on the part of my young companions were renewed with well-meaning emphasis and generous sincerity, I only acknowledged them with a sad and sickly smile : for I knew that they would not be ful- fiUcd. I wa3 called Pretty Joe because I was considered to be the best-looking boy in the school. I was not tail for my age — and was slightly built : but I behove I may say without vanity, that I had a very genteel appearance and was symmetrically shaped. I can well remember what I was at fifteen : a pro- fusion of dark hair clustered in natural curls about my head, and was parted over a high pale brow : my dark eyes had an expicssion of softness, with- out being absolutely melancholy : my featm-es were delicate, and of even feminine regularity. The boys used to say what nice teeth I had ; and for person Ell cleanliness Joseph Wilmot was invariably quoted by Mrs. Nelson as an example. I was con- Eidcred to be intelligent and quick ; and as I gene- rally mastered my lessons more readily than most of my schoolfellows, I never hesitated to assist them in their tasks. Naturally good-natured and obliging, I was an almost universal favom'ite ; and I do not remember that I was ever bullied or ill- treated by those who were older and bigger than myself. But I need not dwell at unnecessary length upon that portion of my existence which was passed at school. It was, as I have already said, when I had completed my fifteenth year, that ilr. Nelson was suddenly earned olT by apoplexy. This event occurred in the middle of the holidays, — and there- fore when all the scholars, with the exception of myself, were away at home. Even before the funeral took place, I overheard the servants saying amongst themselves that Mrs. Nelson did not in- tend to carry on the school ; and then for the first time I began to wonder for what walk of life I was destined. What was to be done with me ? Was I to continue under the care of Mrs. Nelson P or should I at last be informed whether I had nny friends in the world to take charge of meP I began to experience considerable uneasiness upon these points : for I possessed an intelligence some- what beyond my years, — but which was neverthe- less, in another sense, hampered and confined by the monotonous existence I had led, and by the limitation of my ideas to the narrow walls of that seminary. The funeral took place — circulars were de- spatched to the parents of all the boys, intimating that Mrs. Nelson declined carrying on the semi- nary — and a board was set up in the front garden announcing the premises to be let. The servants received a month's warning to quit; and an up- holsterer was sent for to take the furnitxire on a valuation. Three weeks thus passed after the funeral : and still not a word was dropped to me by Mrs. Nelson in respect to my Own fate. Every day I determined to question her — but I dared not : she evidently felt the loss of her husband decj)ly — ■ though none of her sympathy was bestowed upon me ; for if I ventured to accost her, she begged me to go and play and not worry her. Play indeed ! I had no one to piny with ; and even if I had hosts of companions, I felt no inclination for any such JOSrai XVTX?rOT ; OB, THE MEMOIRS 0? A MAN-SERTANT. diversion, — being full of anxietv, suspense, and uncertainty in respect to my o-vni lot. Indeed, not^vitlistaading that my spirits were naturally good, thejk came not to my succour now : I grew depressed and desponding — and was perliaps more tiukappy than I ever yet had been. Methought that the servants looked compassionately upon me; and this circumstance, so far from cheering mo, served to deepen the gloom which was settling it- self upon my mind : for there seemed something ominous and foreboding in that demonstration of sympathy from quarters where I had never expe- rienced it before. At length — one morning, nearly a month after the funeral — as I was seated moping in the school- room, which never had appeared so cold and com- fortless before, although it was in the middle of summer, — I was sent for into the parlour. There I found Mrs. Nelson, in her widow's weeds, in seri- ous conversation with a stout elderly man, whom I knew to be the grocer that had supplied the school ever since I could remember. He had a harsh and even stem expression of countenance ; and as my presence in the parlour at once interrupted the discom'se which had been going on, he turned and contemplated me attentively. Mrs. Nelson appeared to watch with some degree of interest t!ie residt of this survey, which ended by the gro- c-er giving an ominovis and solemn shake of the head. "You don't think ho will suit, Mr. Jukes?" said the widow, in a low mysterious voice, but nevertheless perfectly auiUble to me, as I stood with my cap in my hand in the middle of the room : for I was not asked to sit down, and I did not dare do so of my own accord. '•■ He is too slight and delicate for my business, ma'am," replied the grocer. " You know, as I have already told you, I don't want an extra hand at all at this present moment : but if I could have obliged one who has been a good customer to me — particularly imder present circumstances" — and he glanced at the mourning garments which the widow wore — " I should have been glad to take him. But he couldn't carry a heavy basket about ; and he's of no use unless he could. Besides, ma'am, he's too genteel for the grocery and chcese- mongering line : we want strong boys — not slender and pretty ones." I felt that I had become pale as death while Mr. Jukes was thus speaking : my heart sank within me — a cold tremor came over me — I lite- rally sintered : for the truth of my position was now revealed in all its utter di-eariness. I had in- deed no friends ! — not a being in the world ap- peared to be interested in me — no, not even the schoolmistress herself, by whom I had been brought up : for she was evidently making the at- tempt to get rid of me by thrusting me into the service of one who did not want my assistance. She threw a quick sidelong glance towards me. At that moment the tears were trickling down my cheeks: and being slightly touched by my emo- tions, she said, " You can sit do^vn, Joseph." "Don't you think, ma'am," asked Mr. Jukes, " that he had better leave tlio parlour for a few minutes while we talk the matter over r" "Yes, to be sm-e — it would be better," answered tho widow : tlien, turning to me, she added, " Go back to the school-room for a little while, Joseph — but keep in the way, as you may perhaps bo wanted again presently." I accordingly issued from the parlour, closing the door behind me : but the moment I stood in the passage outside, I was seized with an irre- sistible cui-iosity — indeed, an intense anxiety — to learn the nature of the discussion about to take place between those two persons who had suddenly revealed themselves in the light of the arbiters of my destiny. I therefore applied my ear to the keyhole ; and, with suspended breath, lost not a syllable of the conversation which immediately fol- lowed my departure from the room. " But if you cannot take him, Mr. Jukes," asked the widow, " what on earth am I to do with him ? It's impossible for me to keep the poor boy. Mr. Nelson has left me with means comparatively limited ; and, as you know, I am going to reside with my maiden sister at Liverpool. I must set oflF to-morrow — all my arrangements are made — and she will expect me at a given hour. Some- thing must be done with Joseph before I leave." " But why, ma'am," asked the grocer, " did you push it off to the last moment P" " Why, you see," rejoined the widow, "I waited the result of those advertisements that I had put into the London papers, calling upon Joseph's unknown friend or relative, or whatever he is, to come forward. But there has been no answer ; and as I have already told you, two half-years have now elapsed without the usual remittance. So I suppose the person who used to make it, is either dead, or else wilfully intended to throw the boy on the hands of poor dear Mr. Nelson and myself." "But have you no clue, ma'am ?" inquired Mr. Jukes : " have you no means of fathoming this mystci'y ?" "Not the slightest," responded the widow. " I have already explained to you that the half- yearly payments used to be made through the London agent of the Leicester bank : no namo was ever given — and from the very first moment that Joseph, when only a year old, was entrusted to our charge, no inquiry has ever been made con- cerning him." " Then the payments themselves," observed Mr. Jukes inquiringly, "must have been effected in ig- norance of whether the boy was alive or dead." "Not exactly so," answered ]\Irs. Nelson: "for it was an vmderstood tiling from the very outset, that the London agent of the Leicester bank should only continue to receive the half-yearly amounts so long as no intimation was given that farther payments were rendered unnecessary by the boy's death." " And do you not remember, ma'am," asked the grocer, " sviffieicnt of the personal appearance of the female who entrusted the child to your care, to be enabled to take some measures to trace her out P" " I never saw her face," responded Mrs. Nelson : " our interview did not last many minutes — and she was veiled the whole time she was here. The fact is, poor 5Ir. Nelson and myself would not have taken the child under such mysterious cir- ciimstances — only that we were pressed for money at the time. A hvmdred guuieas wero offered as a sort of premium, or oarncst of good faitli in the matter ; and wc naturally reasoned that those who were interested in the child, would not display 4 JOSEPH VTILMOT; OH, THE MEIIOIES OF A 3rAX-3ERVAyT. such liberality if they harboiu-ed the intention of ultimately throwing him entirely upon our hands." "And do you thiok, ma'am, that it was the mother herself who brought you the child ?" "Certainly not. She was a lady — or at all events a superior kind of person : but that she was not the parent, I am well convinced, as she exhibited no kind of emotion on leaving the infiint with me. And a mother, you know, Mr. Jukes, could not have behaved thus callously." " One would think not," remarked the grocer : " but who knows ?" " Well, it's of no use," resumed Mrs. Nelson, " to discuss the past : it is the present which de- mands my attention. Of course I cannot main- tain, the boy : it is quite sufficient to lose a year's keep for him, — for it is not ouly his food, but his clothes and pocket-money that I ara thus robbed of. I repeat, therefore, something must be done with him to-day. The servants will all leave to- morrow morning — the house will be shut up — the keys will be given to the landlord— audi am to be off by an early coach. Surely, Mr. Jukes, you could manage to place the boy in some respectable situation? There's Thompson the linendraper, for instance : he has had a great deal of my money " "Useless, ma'am, to think of it!" ejaculated Jukes. " It was but last Monday I asked Thompson to take a nephew of mine— just such another boy as this WUmot in personal appearance : but he refused. Trade is getting bad ; and shopkeepers, instead of taking fresh hands, are discharging old ones. For my part I don't know what you are to do \\dth the boy : unless " At tliis moment I heard one of the servants descending the stairs ; and I was compelled to make a precipitate retreat into the school-room, for fear of being caught in the unworthy position of a listener. When there, I sat down at one of the desks — buried my face in my hands — and cried bitterly. Oh ! how cold went the iron of my neglected condition into my very soul : but every syllable of the conversation I hr.d just overlieard, was seared as it were with another iron that was red hot, upon my brain ; — and there it burnt as if eating its way in, accompanied with excruciating tortures. For a moment I thought of flying back to the parlour — falling on my knees at Mrs. Nel- son's feet — and beseeching her not to turn me adrift upon a world of which I was ignorant, but the bitter bleakness of which I already more than half suspected. Yet on maturer reflection I dared not take that step : I saw that it would be tanta- mount to a confession that I had played the part of an eaves-di'opper — that I had Usteucd at the door. Good heavens ! ■« hat would become of me ? My yoimg heart wept tears of blood. I was too inexperienced to conjecture for an instant what motive there could have been for my parents to have abandoned me : and I asked myself why they had done so ? Some secret voice, speaking within me, appeared to say that I had been cheated with the tale of then* death ; and perhaps it was a con- solation to which I clung, to reflect that they might after all be still alive, and that sooner or later I dv?«Id know them and be acknowledged by them. At the expii-ation of a few minutes after I had tlms sought the school-room, one of the maid- servants came to tell me that I was to return to the parlour: and she added— methought •nnth a look of deep commiseration — "You are goin<» away presently, Joseph. I have orders to pack up your box." " But where am I going ?" I asked eagerlv. " I do not know," she replied. '■ Mr. Jukes, I think, is going to take you somewhere ^most likely," she added after a pause, and with a still more significant glance of sympathy, '•' to his own house." I hm'ried to the parlour, composing my features as well as I could, so as not to betray that by lis- tening at the door I had come to a knowledge of facts so strange and new, and at the same time so replete with a mournful interest for myself. Mrs. Nelson and ]Mr. Jukes were seated with that air of silent seriousness \vhich people always adopt when they have made up their minds to a parti- cular com-se, and have to annoimce it to the individual whom it concerns. As for myself, I experienced a sensation of mingled awe and fright : for young though I was, I knew but too well, and felt but too keenly, that this was an important era in my life, and that perhaps all my future destiny might hinge upon the circumstances of the present moment. " Sit down, Joseph," said Mrs. Nelson : '■ I have something particular to communicate. I am sorry to say, my poor boy, that you have no friends in the world ; and I am compelled to cease to be one towards you. I wish it was otherwise 1 really do but we cannot alter the course of events. You are going to leave me, Joseph 1 dare say you liave aheady suspected as much, from what was just now remarked in your presence. Mr. Jukes will take j'ou somewhere But he ■will explain, Joseph : it is not necessary for me to say any more. So come and wish me good bye ; and here is something to put in your pocket." The tears were running down my cheeks : for Mrs. Nelson's words had terribly confii-med — if indeed any such confirmation were wanting — the previous idea wliich I had abeady conceived of my utter friendlcssness. It struck me that she herself was moved, as much as so selfish, mean, and mercenary a woman could possibly be affected ; and as she shook me by the hand, she left half-a- crown in it. " Now, my boy," said Mr. Jukes, rising from his scat, '■' we ynW be ofi". I suppose your box is all ready ; and I have got my chaise-cart at the door." " Good bye, Joseph," again said Mrs. Nelson. " Be a good boy ; and " " Oh, ma'am !" I exclaimed, feeling as if my heart were ready to burst : for now that I was about to part from her, it seemed as if she sud- denly stood in the light of a friend — the only friend, too, that I had in the world ; and it was natural that I should thus regard her in that mo- ment of my ineffable anguish ; for with her I had been brought up from my infancy : — " Oh, ma'am ! pray do not send me away from you — ^pray don't ! I wiU do anything I can, to help to cam my own living : but pray let me go with you — or let me come after you ! I wiU walk, to save expense, and if you will tell me the road But don't send me away — pray, pray don't !" '• My poor boy," answered Blrs. Nelson — and I JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAX-SERYAXT. think she put her handkerchief to her ejes : in- deed, I should be sorry for the credit of humanity iu general, and of her o^\ti sex in particular, if I were mistaken : " it cannot be ! I am too poor to maintain you. Good bye :" — and turning abruptly av.'ay, slie passed hurriedly mto the back parlour, closing the door behind her. I was about to precipitate myself after her, — when 3Ir. Jukes caught me by the arm, saying gruffly, " Come now — it 's no use your makmg all this bother : you must go." His manner frightened me ; and the dismay which I experienced suddenly stopped my weeping, and stupitiiid me as it were into an unnatural calmness. StUl holding me by the arm, he led me out of the house, and helped mo to ascend into his chaise-cart, which v.v.s standing at l!ie front garden gate. The housemaid brought out my box; and shaking me by the hand, she said, " Good bye, Joseph :" — then, as she toi-ned abruptly away, I lieard her murmur, '• Poor boy !"— and I saw that she applied the corner of her apron to her eves. Mr. Jukes, having also mounted the carl, drove off; and I longed to ask him whither he was going to take me : for I felt assured that the somewhere alluded to by Mrs. Nelson, did not refer to his own house. But I dared not put the question : he looked so harsh and stern — while lils compressed lips gave him an appearance as if he were in a measm-e angry with me for something, but for what I could not conjecture. The school was situated nearly tlu-ee quarters of a mile out of the city ; and during the drive, my reflections were as j)aiuful as they were varied. A horriljle uncertainty filled my soul; and then I thought that at the very moment when I was thus being turned adrift from the only place that I had ever known as a home, all my late school-companions were happy and comfortable at their homes, -with affectionate parents and amidst kind friends. Ob, how hard was my lot ! — worse than a known and positive orphanage : for if my parents were alive, I was discarded by them — abandoned — cast off ! The vehicle entered the city, and presently halted in front of a large gloomy-looking building, the immediate contemplation of which filled me with some vague and undefijied feeling of dread. Mr. Jukes, leaping out of the cart, rang the bell ; and a wieket-gate was opened by a very old man with a most repulsive countenance, but who touched his hat respectfully to the grocer. "Now, Joseph — this is the place," said the latter individual: "look alive and jump down — for I am rather in a hurry." " But what place is this, sir P" I asked, with a strong shuddering recoU from the entrance of the gloomy building, as I alighted from the cart. " What place is it ?" repeated Mr. Jukes : then drawing me a little on one side, he said, " You see, my boy, you have got no friends to take care of you ; and I am one of the guardians of all poor people who are in such a condition as yourself, or in a like one. You will be well taken care of here, and in a short time apprenticed to a trade — so that you will be able to come out of the esta- blishment altogether in a year or two, and do some- thing to eai'n your own living." " But what place is it, sir f" I demanded, with tlie energy and firmness of desperation. " What place is it ?"' he again repeated, aiid now more gruffly than before. " Why, what the deuce place should it be but the AYorkhouse ?" This name — this horrible name — was associated in my mind with everything degrading, wretched, cruel, and hopeless. I almost shrieked out as it smote my ear, and as the cause of the maid- servant's sympathy at the school flashed to my mind. She, poor creature, evidently knew or else suspected that I was to be taken to the work- house : — if she had not been told so, she doubtless conjectured it from the circumstance of Mr. Jukes being a guardian of the poor. I fell down upon my knees and besought him not to compel me to enter that dreadful place. He gave vent to an oath — seized me again by the arm — forced me to rise — and began to drag me towards the wicket- gate at which stood the porter with the repulsive countetiance. I felt as if I were being borne to a place of execution, or to be immured in a Uving tomb. Again did the energy of despair seize upon me : I bui'st away from Mr. Jukes — sped along with the floetness of an arrow shot from a bow ^yes, I fled as if it were for life or death ; and turning round a corner, was In a few moments out of his sight. I looked back : he either was not pursuing me, or else I had so far distanced him that he had not as yet reached the corner ; and I continued to dash along as if blood-hounds were on my track. On, on I went : several people whom I passed, stood stUl in amazement : wit!i two or three I came in violent collision; — still I put forth all my speed, and at length gained the open country. But I ran on untU, thoroughly exhausted, I sank down upon the grecu sward under a hedge. CHAPTER II. I DID not remain longer in that shady retreat than was absolutely necessary for the recovery of my breath : but when I resumed my flight, it was at a less precipitate pace. I reached a main road, and pursued it without any settled purpose in view — without even knowing in which direction it led. Presently I beheld a milestone, which indi- cated that the distance was ninety-eight miles to London. London ! — that word suddenly became full of a magical interest for me. Was it not ia London that such scope was offered for the enter, prising and persevering spu'it ? was it not thither that friendless outcasts like myself had bent their way to fijid the streets paved with gold, ar.d to bask in the sunlight of Fortune's smiles ? Where could I hope to succeed, if not in London ? where could I expect to earn my bread, if not in the me- tropolis ? Besides, as Eobinson Crusoe was haunted by images of Cannibal Indians at every turn on his lonely isle, so was I hauutod by the imago of ilr. Jukes; and the idea of being overtaken and con- veyed to that dreadful workhouse, made me long to place as great a distance as possible between myself and the city of Leicester. In my inexperi- ence I knew not ho,v much trouble Mr. Jukos might give himself to find me ; and I thought ho would take a great deal more pains than it was at all probable he did. In London, thsrefore, did JOSEPH \riIMOT ; OE, THE MEM0IE3 OF A ITAIJ-SESVANT. I hope to be safe from his pursuit : for I had a sufficient idea of the vastness of the capital to know that one miserable item of the immense mass of humanity might shroud himself there from the knowledge of his pursuers. So my resolve was taken ; and to London would I proceed ! Somev/hat cheered by the prospect of shortly beholding that mighty city -which was associated in my mind with all possible attributes of splen- dour, -wealth, encouragement, and hope, I pursued my way, — accomplishing three or four nulcs with- out feeling much weariness, and experiencing a proportionate elevation of the spirits, the greater the distance that grew between me and Leicester. And yet my position was one which had little or uothiiig satisfactory in it, if properly contemplated. My bos wa3 of com-se left behind in the cart : I had nothing but what I stood upright in — not a single change of linen ; and only half-a-cro-wn in my pocket — that half-crown which 3Irs. Nelson had given ms at parting. It was my every-day suit that I wore ; and it was shabby enough : for my best clothes were in my bos — and my exit from the school had been too hurried, as the reader has seen, to allow ma to change my gar- ments. But for the iu'st few miles these circiun- Etances did not trouble me. When wearied, I en- tered a field and threw myself on the grass to rest. Sleep came upon me ; and when I awoke, I found that I had slumbered for many hom's, as the sun was now tinging the western horizon with hues of purple, and orange, and gold. I rose up : my limbs felt stiff — and there was a ccrtaia despondency in my soul ; for the night was coming — I knew not how to obtain a bed — and I feared to roam in the dark. AH. the horrible tales of robbery and murder which I had ever heard or read, crowded iato my mindj and it did not occur to me that people were only murdered when they offered a resistance which a boy hke myself would be incapable of showing, and when it was believed that they had about their persons something worth the perpetration of such a crime. I continued my way: the evening closed in — the twilight gra- dually disappeared — the dusk deepened around me. I kept in the middle of the road, so as to guard against a surprise in case anybody should leap out from the hedge upon me. Presently I heard the clatter of v.'hecls and horses' feet coming from be- hind. I stood aside — a post chaise -aud-f our was shooting past me, when I thought that I might have a ride for nothing, and moreover that there would be protection and safeguard on the part of the postilions riding the horses and the people seated within the vehicle. I accordingly sprang up behind; and in this manner proceeded about six miles, until the chaise halted at a town to change horses. Then I got down — walked rapidly onward — and had just cleared the buildings of the place, when the chaise overtook me again. I re- sumed my seat behind ; and in this way — adopting a similar course at the nest halting-place — I managed to ride altogether twenty miles ; so that I was now twenty-five from Leicester and seventy- four from London. But the chaise went no far- ther; and I walked on, vainly espocting that it would overtake me once more. I continued my course deep into the night, until thorouglily es- haostod ; and thin entering a field, slept beneath a haystack. "\Yh3n mornuig came, I washid my- self as well as I could in a rivulet ; and proceeding to the nearest village, purchased a penny roU, which I eat ravenously. I longed for better fare — but was determined to husband my resources. I wiU not go on recording every minute detail of my journey to London. Suffice it to say that by dint of walking until the soles of my shoes were worn through — by getting an occasional ride be- hind a carriage, or a lift in some good-natured per- son's cart — after sleeping by night in the fields — and all the time eking out my slender pecuniary means as well as I was able, — I came in sight of the great metropolis at about seven o'clock on the fom-th morning after my flight from Leicester. Though well-nigh beaten with fotigues which I was scarcely strong enough to endure, I nevertheless felt my sj)irits elate -nith hope as I walked on ; and at length began to enter the outsku-ts of London. I almost fancied that I should at once be accosted by some benevolent person who, in- quiring into my circumstances, -w^ould offer me a situation by which I could eai-n my bread: but gradually as I drew fai-ther and farther towards the heart of the metropolis, the thought crept into my mind that everybody appeared too much intent upon the hurry and bustle of his own affairs, to give any attention to those of a stranger. I felt sadly wearied, and excessively hungry. Presently I saw by the prices marked up in a humble coffee- house window that I could have a good breakfast for fourpence. I esamined the state of my finances, and found that I had exactly tenpence remaining : so I entered — and being served with some tea and bread-and-butter, made a hearty meal. When I had done, I thought that I woiild inquire of the people of the house if they knew where I coidd procure a situation of some kind : I did not care what, so long as I could earn my bread. But then I reflected that as my clothes were in sad disorder tlirough sleeping in the fields and my long fatiguing travels, it would be necessary to make such improvement as I could in my personal appearance before seeking for emj)loyment. It was some time ere I could muster up courage or induce myself to inquire if I could be allowed the use of a chamber to wash myself in : and when I did, I was eyed suspiciously : but after some little demur, it was intimated that on the payment of sixpence my -wish should be comphed with. This was aU I had left : but feeling confident of succeeding ia ray aim ere nightfall, and ha-ring the v.-holc day before m.e for the search, — considering too how necessary it was to make myself as decent as I possibly could, — I pai'l the fee, receiving the accommodation I requii'cd. By means of soap and water, a clothes-brush, and a hair-comb, I did eflect a considerable change in my looks; and as no ona could see how the soles of my shoes were worn through, I felt comfortable and full of cheerfulness. Before, however, I descended from tlie room to which I had been sliown, the landlady of the place instituted the most searching scrutiny, even to tha very sheets of the bed ; and I felt much shocked as the idea flashed to my miud that she fancied I might have stolen something. Indeed, I made some remark upon the subject, — wlien she coolly and frankly declared there were so many young thieves about, who came in such specious guises and with all possible pretests, that it was necessary to take this precaution. Having thus got her into JOSEPH WILIIOT ; OB, THE MEMOIES OP A MAN-SERVANT. conversation, I told her that I had come up from the country to seek my fortune in London — at which she smiled ; and when I asked her if she could recommend me to a place of some kind or another, she laughed outright. Abashed, and sud- denly dispirited, I said uo more — but quitted the house. Plunging still deeper into the maze of London — and after looking wistfully into many shops with the idea of entering and reno\\ing my in- quiries for employment — I at length mustered up courage to walk into a chemist's ; for the man whom I saw behind the counter, had somotliing benevolent in his look. I however experienced a refusal far more abrupt than I had anticijpated from an individual of his appearance; and con- tinuing my way, called and repeated the ^ame inquiry at several other shops. Every^wheie I met a negative response, — sometimes delivered civilly enough — at others ^vith more or less curtness— ia one or two instances characterized by downright brutality. My hopes subsided : my apprehensions increased. There was I, a friendless and a penni- less wanderer in the streets of the metropolis : hunger was gaining upon me : and then came the thought of where I was to lay my head tlu'ough- out the night that was approaching, — for there were no fields at hand, wherein to stretch my weary limbs beneath a haystack ! It is true, I had not literally believed, as Dick WhittLngton did, that the streets were paved with gold : but I had certainly fancied that London presented such numerous opportunities for wUling industry to push its way, that hot more than a few hoiu-s i would elapse ere I shoidd find myself ia a posilioa to earn my bread. But there I was, — stupified and bewildered by the din and bustle going on around me — stunned by the incessant diu sus- tained by countless vehicles of all kinds, from the splendid equipage dashing past, to the cumbrous wain laden with merchandize, and with its team toiling laboriously along — in the midst too of the busiest population that any city imder the sun possesses — men, women, and children hurrying hither and thither, and all seeming intent upon affairs of vital import, — there was I, as completely alone in the heart of all this noise and turmoil as if I had been standing on the summit of a barren rock in the middle of a vast ocean whose heavinj biUows and careering waves were flowing, aud tossing, and surging tip around ! Never shall I forget any one incident, thought, or feeling which I experienced on tliis memorable day, — the first day of my acquaintance with London ! It is a date indelibly fixed upon my memory, — to which all that has yet been narrated served but as mere prefatory matter, and which may therefore be deemed the starting-point of my history. It was the 23th of JiUy, 1836. But let me continue. I wandered on and on — I rambled hither and thither — I roamed through square and street, lane and alley — I crossed bridges : in that one day I saw more of what may be termed the exterior aspect of London, than many of its in- habitants usually behold in a month. Evening came ; and the shops began to blaze with gas, while the lamps were lighted in the streets. I was famished with himger, and half dead with fatigue. I knew not what to do. I would have digged if anybody had given me the work to per- form : but to beg I was ashamed. And yet thi^ latter alternative appeared my onlj resource ! The thousand clocks of the mighty metropolis were proclaiming the hour of ten, as I seated my- self— or rather fell down, upon the steps of a door in a somewhat obscm-e street, and where the houses were of a mean description compared with those of the thoroughfares immediately contiguous. Not many persons were passing that way j and thoso who were, took no notice of mo. I had already seen enough of London to bo aware that the spectacle of poverty, rags, and distress must be too familiar to the view of its inhabitants to arrest much attention ; and as I now began to reflect on the swarms of mendicants I had seen about the streets during this memorable day, I was la- mentably disabused of my magnificent ideas of the imiversal prosperity, as well as of the general scope for the exercise of honest industry, which I had believed to exist in the metropolis. While I was atill seated on that door-step, — and with difiiculty keeping down the tears that gushed up to the very brims of my eyes, as if they came from the foimtains of the heart, — I observed that I had become the object of attention on the part of an individual whose appearance, as seen by an adjacent lamp, would under any other circum- stances have made a ludicrous impression on me : but I was now too thoroughly wretched to expe- rience such an cifeet. He was tall and thin — apparently about tliirty years of age — with a sal- low complexion and sandy-white hair. lie had small, sharp, piercing gray eyes ; and his whiskers, instead of growing continuously from the region of the ear to the chin, were confined to two tufts low down on the lower jaws — or the jowls, to usa a somewhat vulgar name. He was dressed in a suit of black, the rustiness and threadbare con- dition of which were so great as to be easily dis- cerned even in the semi-obscurity of tlie place. His hat, with very narrow brims, and tapering away towards the crown so as to have a chimney- pot appearance, was napless and battered : but he nevertheless wore it airily perched above his right ear, so as to give himself a jaunty look. His linen was by no means of the cleanest : his shirt-collar was very low, so that the long scraggy neck seemed longer and scraggier stiU, save in the throat, where it had a lump which looked as if he had swallowed an apple that had stuck half-way down. He wove those shoes which are denominated " high -lows ;" and as his trousers were too short for him, the dingy white stockings were seen between. The coat-sleeves were proportionately short, — not reach- ing even to the wrist: he had no gloves — ^Ijut carried a stick in one hand, and flourished a gaudy bandanna-handkerchief in the other. Such v.-as the individual who was thus eyeing me with interest and attention; aud as he stood for nearly a couple of minutes with his piercing gray eyes fixed upon me, I had ample leisure to study his appearance in return. At length he accosted me : and laying one of his hands upon my shoulder, said in a quick sharp manner', " You seem in distress, youngster i" " I am indeed," was my response : and no longer able to subdue my feehngs, I burst into tears. " Now, if this is a dodge," said the singular individual, " it's so uncommon clever that it beats into fits anything I ever knew before ; and it wu&t JOSEPH WILMOT ; OK, THE MEMOIES OP A MAN-SEEVANT be a desieecl clerer dodge to come tlie counter- feit ovei- me :" — then, havinn^ again surveyed me very hard for anotlier minute, he cried, " No, it isn't a dodge : it's real ! Who are you ? where do you come from ? and what's the matter with you ?" " I liave come from the country," was my answer, " in the hope of finding some employment in Lon- don : but I have been disappointed." " Have you got a character, either written or in the shape of a reference ?" demanded my new ac- quaintance. " No," I answered most ingenuously. " I did not think it necessary to prove that I was honest, since I have never done anything wrong." " Green ! — green as grass !" ejaculated the man. " But you speak uncommonly well : you are a de- cent looking boy Come, tell me — I suppose the fact is you have run away from home f " "Home!" I echoed, half bitterly, half mourn- fully. " I have no home." " Well, but you have been to school — you can read and write, I suppose — and all that sort of thing?" " I have received a good education," I eagerly replied : for I clutched at the hope that the stranger might help me to some situation. " I have learnt history, geography, arithmetic, the use of the globes, and Latin as far as Ovid's Meta- morphoses." " Then the deuce is in it," quickly exclaimed my new friend, " if we can't metamorphose you into something. Come along with me." I coidd have flung my arms roimd his neck and embraced him, — ugly, sinister -looking, and meanly clad though he were : for I only beheld in him a friend whom heaven had suddenly sent to save mc from starvation in the streets. But he did net JOSErn WIL■^^oT ; or, the meiioies of a imaw-servant. 9 afford me an opportunity of bestosving that testi- monial of my aflfectionate gratitude : for, seizing me by the hand, he led me hiu'riedly along the street. I no longer felt tired — nor did I feel that my feet were cut and bleeding, my shoes .and stockings being completely worn through. 'We passed out of that street, thi'ough several thorough- fares, into a maze of lanes and alleys, with nu- morous courts leading out — and which district my companion informed me was called CIcrkenwell. At length we turned into a court narrower and darker than any other which I had as yet seen — and stopped at a door, at which my companion knocked. It was opened by an elderly woman with grizzly gray hair, and whose countenance of flaming red was rendered still more rubicund by the light of the candle which she carried in her hand. "Lend us this light," said my friend: and snatching it from her, he led me into a room open- ing firom the narrow passage on the ground floor. CHAPTEE III. MT S^yr FRIEND. The place into which I thus found myself con- ducted, was dirty to a degree, and wretchedly fiu'- nished with a miserable ricketty table, half-a-dozcn rush-bottomed chairs in an advanced state of dilapidation, and a desk covered with papers at the curtainless window. A door commimicated with an inner room ; and as it stood open, I caught a glimpse of a bed stretched upon the floor. Such was the result of the fii-st glance which I thi-ew around : but my attention was speedily called to a more cheering spectacle, as my new friend, opening a cupboard, proceeded to place a loaf, part of a Dutch cheese, and some cold meat upon the table. He then told me to '•' peg away," wlule he went and fetched some beer ; — saying which, he quitted the house. In a few minutes he returned, bring- ing a quart of beer in one hand, and a bottle half- filled with spiiits in the other. I gladly partook of the former liquor : for now that I was once more seated, I experienced a return of that sense of weariness amounting almost to exhaustion, which had compelled me to sit down upon the door-step where my new acquaintance had found me. "?fow, youngster," he said, so soon as I had finished my supper, — and I believe I never ate so ravenously before in aU my life, — ''you can go and get to bed as soon as you like ; for I see that you are thoroughly knocked up. You may take possession of my crib ; and I will make myself a shake-down in this room when I have done my glass and my pipe. We will postpone all talk upon business tiU to-morrow morning. But, by the bye, what's your name ?" " Joseph Wilmot," I answered. " And a very fine one it is too — especially the Wihnot. Mine is Taddy Mr. Taddy to those that I am not famiUar withj but Tom Taddy to intimate friends. And now good night." I expressed my thanks to Mr. Taddy for liis kindness towards me : he bade me take the candle, as he could smoke and drLok in the dark untU I had got to bed ; and I accordingly retired to the inner room. This contained little more than the bed upon the floor — a large earthenware pan upon a chair, to wash in — and a huge stone jug to con- tain water. Jfr. Taddy's lodging was therefore of the most v^TCtched description : but I was too thankful for having obtained an asylum to suffer myself to find fault with it — and too tu-ed to do so, even if I had been inclined. I lay down ; and in a few mimites was fast asleep. When I awoke in the morning, my first impression was that I was still at school, and that I h-ad been hurried through the varied phases of a dream in which whole days appeared to have passed : but as I looked around that wretched room, I was too forcibly reminded of the sad change which had taken yAaqq in my condition, to be able to doubt its reality any longer. My heart sickened at the thought; and in comparison with the poverty- stricken place where I now found myself, the dormitory at the school appeared a perfect para- dise. In order to escape from the bitterness of my reflections, I rose and dressed myself as quickly as I could ; and scarcely had I finished, when Mr. Taddy threw open the door, exclaim- ing, ""Well, youngster, I hope you liked your quarters ?" •■' Yes, thank you," I answered. '• But I do not see where you have slept ; and I am afraid that I must liave deprived you " '• Of my bed ?" he ejaculated. " Nonsense ! I slept where I tumbled down :" — then, perceiving that I was opening my eyes in astonishment, he went on to say, " Yes, it's quite true. I drank all that stuff which the publican calls gin, but which is two-thirds vitriol ; and where I fell, there I lay— and there I slept. Now for a wash — then to breakfast — and then to business. Yon light the fii-e, Joe ; and put the kettle on to bod. You wiU find a couple of herrings in the cupboard : put them in the skillet, and hang them in front of the fire." All these instructions I obeyed as well as I was able ; and when Mr. Taddy had finished his ablu- tions, he recreated himself with a pipe until break- fast was ready. AU the time the meal lasted, I wondered what could be the nature of that business to which he alluded, and in which I was evidently to play a part. I was not kept very long in sus- pense : for so soon as I had cleared away the breakfast things, my companion said, " Now, Joe, seat yourself at that desk, and write down some- thing to give me a specimen of your hand." " What shaU I ^vlite ?" I inquired. '•' Anything. Only three or four words, that I may see what sort of a fist you make of it, and whether the coveys that I do business with can read it. Write one or two of your school-copies, if you like, in a good bold round hand. I write such a precious scrawl that I do believe it's the reason my business hasn't taken better than it has ; and that's the reason too why I resolved to employ a clerk. So I saw that you were a likely lad to suit me, — and now to work." I accordingly sat down at the desk ; and in pursuance of the hint which Mr. Taddy had given me, I wrote these three favourite school-copies in my best round hand : — " Vu-tue is commendable." — " Honesty is the best policy." — " Integrity is its own reward." Being well satisfied with my per- 10 JOSEPH WILJIOT ; OR, THE ITEIIOIES 01 A MAX-SEEVAST. formance, I rather expected to receive tlic emphatic approval of ilr. Taddy: but -when I presented him the paper, and he glanced over its contei|ts, he burst forth into such an immoderate fit of laughter that I was quite confused. He rolled upon his chair — the tears came into his eyes — again and again did the peals of merriment burst forth ; and if he had been a stout person, instead of the lean, lank individual he was, he woiild cer- tainly have gone off in a fit of apoplexy. For five good minutes did this uproai'ious mirth con- tinue ; and even when it began to subside, he could only give utterance to his comments upon my caligraphic performance in broken sentences. " Capital, youngster !" he cried, " nothing could be better. Virtue is commendable:" — and here he literally shrieked out with rcnevred merriment, "Honesty is the best policy. By Jove ! you will kill me with laughing. Integrity is its own re- ioard :" — and then his merriment exploded in a perfect roar. '• However, the ■writing is admira- ble ; and that is the essential. The tests, I think, we may dispense with in the circulars we have got to write. They won't exactly suit the ladies and gentlemen with whom we have to deal. Now, take your pen; and I will smoke a pipe and dictate at the same time." I scarcely comprehended the meaning of that violent mirth which my lucubrations had produced : but having no reason to be annoyed, inasmuch as it was better to excite laughter than anger, I took my place at the desk and prepared to write. " I\ ow then," said Mr. Taddy, " be careful to cross all your i's and dot all your i's. Are you ready? Well, b?gin in this way: — Mr. Thomas Taddy, of iS'o. 3, Eagamuilln Com-t, Saffron Hill, begs to inform ladies and gentlemen who practise the honorable profession of begging, that he has opened an office of the highest respectability for the register of all announcements, wants, interests, and requirements connected therewith. He be- lieves that an estabUshment of this natiu-e has been long needed in the British metropolis ; and in soliciting favours, he will study his best to give perfect satisfaction, Mr. Taddy having much ex- perience in all things regarding the profession. In the first instance, he begs to announce that he has upon his register a number of cliildren to be let out at sixpence a day and their victuals, — some of whom are subject to fits, and will be sure to excite the utmost sympathy. Item, Mr. Taddy contracts to fui-nish toilets of every description of rags and tatters for male and female. Ladies and gentlemen are requested to inspect the goods. Item, Mr. Taddy has contracted with a lucifcr match manufactory for the siipply of a thousand boxes weekly : these are warranted, and would bo found a most ehgible bargain for ladies and gentle- men making their rounds as timber-merchants." * I had gone on thus far writing in a sort of be- wilderment : but at length it struck me that my new acquaintance was naturally a person of a most humorous character, and that this was a joke in which he was indulging. I therefore laid down my pen and made bold to laugh : whereupon Mr. Taddy vociferated in a savage tone, " Tire away, you young rascal — or I will give you something to grin for." * Beggars going about with matches are thus denomi- nated. I was astounded and frightened by this suddan change in his mood, and settled myself as soon as possible to continue va-lfng. " Item," he continued, " Mr. Taddy has a hun- dred thousand varieties of Yards of Song for a Penny, all consisting of ballads by the most eminent authors. Item, an inexhaustible supply of Last Dying Speeches and Confessions, with blanks left for the names of the persons who are hanged, and which can readily be stamped in at the shortest possible notice by types in hand for the purpose. Item, several weU-trained dogs for blind men, with chains and collars, and warranted to lead safely through the most crowded thorough- fares ; including a very clever black terrier, un- commonly savage, and will bite the heels of any one who does not drop halfpence into the hat. Item, a choice assortment of wooden legs and crutches. Mr. Taddy will undertake to draw up petitions, setting forth the most moving nai-ratives of woe and afiiietion — likewise begging letters — together with testimonials and recommeadaticns, signed by some of the most eminent persons in the kingdom. Mr. Taddy wiU imdertake to negotiate the sale, hii-e, or transfer of muddy crossings in great thorouglifares, and wDl supply brooms at the cheapest rate. He wiU likewise teach the art of drawing ships in chalk upon the pavement, so as to suit gentlemen who persotate shipwrecked mariners. He likewise gives instruc- tions in writing with chalk, so that the student may in three lessons be enabled to write ' I am starving ' with the greatest case and facility. Gentlemen and ladies having good walks in some parts of the town, and wishing for change of air, may hear of the most eligible beats in other parts of the town, by applying at Mr. Taddy's oliice. Gentlemen or ladies in trouble, may obtain wit- nesses either to speak to character or to prove alibis, on application at the oflice, — the rates of payment varying according to the respectability of appearance which the specific peculiarity of cases may render it needful for the witnesses to pre- sent." I was so disgusted with the avocation thus assigned to me, and which I saw to be perfectly serious, that I once more threw down the pen; and starting up from the seat, exclaimed with a firmness which was inspired by iudiguatiou and abhorrence, '■' You may drive me out to starve in the streets — but I will write no more !" Mr. Taddy hkewise sprang up from his chair j but it was to seize my collar with one hand and his stick with the other, and to commence be- labouring me with all his might and main. I cried out for assistance — but none appeared ; and my unmerciful castigator exclaimed, '■ You may bawl tiU you are hoarse, you yoimg raseal : but nobody will come — and I'll be hanged if I don't reduce you to submission. There now — •« iU you take up the pen again P" " If ever !" I ejacidated, my heart swelling with rage and shame at the treatment I had just experienced. " I wiU leave you :" — and as he had now let me go, I rushed to the door. "2fot so fast, my boy I" he said, with a sneer, as he caught me by the arm and pidlcd me back. " You are as much in my power as if you were my own son : and if you have any more of your nonsense, I'll take you up before ft magistrate — J03KPII WILilOT ; OK, THE MEilOIIlS OF A MAN-SERVANT. 11 make you confess that you have run away from your home, your school, yoiy master, or what- ever the real truth is — and have you sent back again." '■' No, no — for heaven's sake don't !" I cried, thoroughly believing that he would pat his threat into execution, and resolvi3ig to make ahnost any sacrifice of feeling rather than incur the risk of being sent back to Leicester, to the tender mercies of Mr. Jukes, and be locked up in the work- house. " Well, then, be a good boy — and let me have no more of your nonsense," said Mr. Taddy, per- ceiving that his menace had produced an effect which made me feel myself completely in his power. " Come, take the pen again, and finish off as many copies of that circular as you possibly can. I must have at least fifty of them sent round to the low lodging-houses, the cadgers' and trampers' dens, and the rookeries, before night." I accordingly resumed my seat, and obeyed the orders I had received. I wrote up to one o'clock ; and then Mr. Taddy, taking me out with him, proceeded to purchase some moat and potatoes for the dinner. On our retiim to his lodging, I was commanded to cook the victuals, — which I did to the best of my ability ; and when the meal M'as over, he bade me resume my wi-iting. This went on until about six o'clock : we then had tea — and afterwards went out together to distribute the cir- culars at the various places to which he had alluded. We called at such a number of dreadful dens and neighbourhoods that all the strongest feeUngs of loathing, horror, aversion, and disgust, were by turns excited within me. 1 beheld the hideous orgies of the vilest and lowest mendicants, male and female : I was introduced into lodging- houses where scenes of brawling, riot, quaiTelling, and fighting were going on : I was conducted into others, as the evening deepened into night, where persons of all ages, from the tendercst to the maturcst, and of both sexes, were herding together on beds composed of masses of rotting rags, and where the atmosphere was hot to suffocation and pestilentially fetid. Several times did I im- plore Mr. Taddy not to drag me thus -svith him any farther : but my prayers were of no avail ; he doubtless feared I should run away if left to my- self — and therefore he would not lose sight of ine for a single instant. It was close upon midnight ere we returned to the lodging : but I was so sick at heart with all I had scon — so thoroughly humi- liated, and experiencing such a sense of utter self- abasement at the ordeal I had been dragged through — that I could not touch a morsel of food ; and gladly taking advantage of my master's per- mission to retire to rest, I lay down and literally wept myself off to sleep. Next day more circulars were written : but as horn' after horn- passed, and no one came to avail himself of the benefits held out in those already distributed, Mr. Taddy exhibited many signs of disappointment, impatience, and astonishment. He walked to and fro in the room, smoking his pipe, and every now and then breaking forth into such audible ejaculationa as these: — -"WgU, I can't make it out. I shoidd have thought that there would have been hundreds ready to jump at such offers — and I who havd bcsn for the last three months making all arrangements to do the thing well ! I thought fitrst of all that it was because mjpcirculars were va-itten in such a precious queer style they coiddn't be read : but these are as easy to read as print in a book. However, we will see what to-morrow brings forth." Unfortunately t'ne morrow proved as barren in its results as the previous day; and to be brief, an entire week passed \vithout producing a single appUcant for any of the advantages held out in Mr. Taddy's circulars. Every evening we sallied forth to distribute those \vriticn during the day ; and every evening, therefore, vras I destined to behold a repetition of the same horrible scenes of debauchery and demoralization as those through which I had been dragged on the first occasion. Each day, too, I experienced vmmistakablo proofs that my master's funds were ebbing lower and lower. First he discontinued his spirits, and con- tented himself with beer : then we dined off bread and cheese instead of meat — imtil at last we had nothing but bread alone to eat, and cold water to drink. The landlady of the house — t'nat same horrid-looking woman who opened the door the first night I was introduced thither — clamoured for her rent ; and in order to raise funds, Mr. Taddy was compelled to call in a marine store- dealer and sell off for a few shillhigs the suits of rags and tatters, the ballads and tlie dying speeches, the crutches and the wooden legs, vrhich constituted his stock, and which I now discovered to have been deposited in another room of the house as a seciu-ity for ai-rears of rent previously due to the landlady. No more circulars were written ; and Mr. Taddy told me very frankly that he was dehberating in his own mind whether ho should turn me adrift to manage for myself, or whether he should try to make me useful in some other way. I was so wretched and desponding that all my spirit seemed to be crushed out of me ; and I had not even energy enough to care which alternative he might adopt. Young as I was, I felt wearied of existence. He appeared to prefer the plan of keeping ma ■wiih. him : but a few days after the sale of liis ^oods, the landlady seized what Httle furnitm-e ho possessed in his rooms; and assisted by a dreaJfid- lookLng man, — who, it seems, was her brother — compelled us both to leave the house, ilr. Taddy was very noisy and wrathful : but he was iguo- miniously thrust forth; and thus, at ten o'clock one night, we were homeless and penniless wan- derers together. " Well, .Joe," he said, as we issued from Eaga- mufiln Court, " we must try and keep up our spirits. But where shall we sleep to-night? Either imder the dry arches of ^^aterloo Bridge — or else we win make our way to the fields, and stretch ourselves under a hedge or a hay-rick." " The fields !" I exclaimed, suddenly cheered by the prospect of getting into the open country once more : for I was hideously sick at my experiences of the metropolis. " Well, let it be the fields," he said : and we walked on together. We proceeded thus for about an hour and a half, until we cleared the subui-bs of the metropolis on the northern side ; and being fortunate enough to find a shed in the corner of a field, we lay down in a waggon which was kept there, and slept tUl morning. 12 JosErLi wil:5j:ot; on, the 3ie:joies of a jiax-sehvakt. CHAPTER IV. MEXDICITTj A>"D ITS EESULT. The sun was shining brightly — the birds were singing merrily in the trees — the face of nature appeared to wear its happiest smiles : bat not even from the serene aspect of the sky nor from the loveliness of the earth, could my young heart druik in the slightest inspiration of solace. Mr. Taddy had put into his pocket a comb and a rag that had served as a towel at his lodgings ; and leading the way through the fields to the bank of the Xew liiver (as he informed me the stream was called), ho bade me make myself as nice as possible, as he meant to play " the respectable dodge." Fro:n his circulars and his conversation, I comprehended what this meant. He purposed that we should commence a career of mendicancy, assuming as respectable an exterior as under circumstances was possible. I was cruelly shocked at finding such was his determination : but I knew full well that there was no alternative. I had eaten nothing since the afternoon of the preceding day : I was half famished with himger ; and thus the calls of nature, being imperious, forced me into his views. AVo made our ablutions on the river's bank ; and then striking across the fields, we drew near a lai-ge and handsome house, situated in the midst of a park where the fleecy sheep were browzing on their emerald carpet, and the deer were frisking about. There was a porter's lodge at the entrance of the carriage-drive leading tlu-ough the park up to the mansion ; and above the palings was a painted board, warning ofi" vagrants under paLii of prose- cution if found intruding within the enclosure. I shrank back in mingled shame and terror on be- holding that intimation : but Mr. Taddy, seizing me roughly by the arm, grasped me with such vio- lence that he almost made me cry out with the pain, — saying in a low tierce voice at the same time, '■ By heaven, you young hound, if you don"t keep quiet and look as demure and miserable as possible, I will flay you alive '" There was no necessity to t^ll me to look miserable — for heaven knows I felt so : and Mr. Taddy, drawing forth from his pocket a paper which I immediately recognised as a begging petition I had myself drawn up to his dictation, he rang the bell at the gate. The porter — a stout, surly-looking man — came forth from his lodge ; and on perceiving us through the iron bars of the gate, he ordered us to be off, " as he didn't want trampers there." Then Mr. Taddy, assumiag the most lugubrious look, began whining and snuflling forth a lamentable ditty — of how he was a respectable but decayed tradesman — how he had been reduced to distress by a series of un- avoidable misfortunes — how he had a wife and seven children in a most deplorable condition — how he had come out with his dear son, his be- loved eldest boy (indicating me) to beseech the succour of the charitable — and how the memorial he held in his hand, was attested by the clergyman of liis parish and eighteen persons of repute and eminence who had known him in better days. While he was giving forth this tu-ade, — which caused me to look up in his coimteuance with astonishment at the gUbncss that characterized • so atrocious a tissue of falsehoods, — an elderly gentleman, mountca on a very beautiful horse, ; appeared round an angle of the road; and the porter, savagely bidding us '•' stand back," threw open the gate. The gentleman had something exceedingly mild and benevolent in his look ; and ' as he was passing into the enclosure, his eyes fell I upon me. He surveyed me with a compassionate i interest ; and reining in his stead, began to feel in his jjocket for some money. "Beg pardon, sir," remarked the porter; "but I don't think this man is deserving of anything, however it may bo with the boy : for while he ' was telling me a whole string of stories — and also ! that he was the boy's father — the lad looked up in ■ his face iu perfect astonishment." I '■ My boy," said the elderly gentleman, " tell me the truth : is this man your father f" ] Mr. Taddy, who still held my arm in his ijrasp, pressed it significantly in order to prompt my response : but I said boldly, " No, sir — he is not my father. I am no relation to him." '• AVell, sir," observed Mr. Taddy, assuming a most piteous look, after having darted a fiercely diabolical glance at me, — " it's true that I am not exactly the boy's father : but let him say whether I didn't take him out of the streets and act as a father to him. We arc in very great distress, sir " '•'Hold your tongue," interrupted the gentle- man : then again fixing his eyes upon me, he said, " Do you v.is'a to continue with this man ?'' " Oil. no — no !" I ejaculated, with passionate vehemence : for I was suddenly inspired by the hope that heaven had now sent me a friend to rescue me from the slough of wretchedness and degradation into which I had been plunged. '•' Give me employment, sir — even the most menial anything — and I vriR thankfully accept it — Oh, so thankfully !" "Very well, my boy," answered the gentleman : "I will not disregard your prayer. Now, my man," he continued, turning tfiwards Taddy, " here is a shilling for you. I have no doubt it is more than you deserve : but take yourself off. Begone, I say — directly 1" added the gentleman sternly, as he saw that my companion still lin- gered, and was evidently loath to part from me. " I am a justice of the peace; and " Mr. Taddy stayed to hear no more : but giving me a spiteful thrust forward, he turned abruptly on his heel and hurried away. The gentleman then bade me follow him up to the mansion, — he walking his horse so as not to outstrip me. He said nothing more for the present : but upon reach- ing the house, desired a footman to take me into the servants' hall, give me some food, and conduct me to the Hbrary when I had received refreshment. In the servants' hall I found myself an object of interest with the domestics assembled there ; and I overheard some of the observations which passed between them in a low voice. One said that I was a genteeldooking boy : another that I had a certain air of -superiority above my present condi- tion ; and others spoke to a similar effect. A good breakfast was set before me ; and the reader may suppose how much I enjoyed a plentiful meal of good and wholesome food, served up with a clean- liness which appeared to be of the most deUcate JOSEPH \riLMOT ; OJ :.xr.Moii;s of a :.IA^'-SEKrA^'T, refinement in contrast with the wretched make- enifts which I had recently known at Mr. Taddy's lodging. When I had finished my repast, the footman to whose charge I had been specially con- signed, conducted me to a spacious and handsomely appointed library, where I found the elderly gen- tleman reading a newspaper, — and a young lady, of most exquisite beauty, writing a letter at a desk. " This is the poor boy, Edith, I was telling you of," observed the gentleman as I entered. The young lady laid down her pen ; and lifting her angelic countenance, the complexion of which appeared to be lent her by the purest Uly and the softest rose, she gazed upon me with her large blue eyes in a manner expressive of a compas- sionate interest : then she turned towards the gen- tleman, and said in a low voice of earnest entreaty, " You will do something for him, dear father — will you not ?" " We shall see, my love," was her sire's re- sponse : and addressing himself to me, he said in a benevolent manner, " Tell us, my poor boy, how you came in this deplorable situation and in such objectionable companionship ?" I had previously resolved to observe the fidlest candour towards my benefactor : for I felt confi- dent that even if he himself could really do no- thing for me, he was too good and kind to send me back to Leicester to be locked up in the work- house. I therefore gave him my entire history, as frankly as I have narrated it to the reader, — how I had been brought up at the IN'elsons' academy — how the death of the schoolmaster had caused the widow to discontinue the business — how I had overheard what took place between herself and Sir. Jukes — how I had escaped from the latter in- dividual — and all I had gono through during my acquaintance with Thomas Taddy. The gentleman and the yoimg lady listened with the deepest at- tention; and the latter more than once applied her kerchief to her eyes as I touched upon my sorrows at school and the sufferings I had experienced since I left that academy. "It is all true, dear papa," I heard her say, though she whispered as she bent forward to her sire : " I am certain it is ! There is an air of frankness and sincerity about this poor boy, which forbids the suspicion of hypocrisy." " We shall see, my dear Edith — we shall see," was again her father's response : then, after a few moments' reflection, he said, addressing himself to me, " Xow, my boy, if you have spoken truly — as we think you have — something shall be doue for you. I shall write by to-day's post to this Mr. Jukes at Leicester do not be alarmed — do not be frightened — he wiU not want to fetch you away. So far from seeking to put you into the work- house, he -wtU be very glad to find that he is so weU rid of you." " There now, dear father," again inteijected Edith, in the whispering tones of her musical voice : " see how the poor boy's countenance brightens up again ! I am confident he has spoken the truth. You will let him remain here at the Manor until you receive the answer from Lei- cester r" " Oh, certainly !" was her sire's immediate response, also delivered in a low tone, " Yes," he added aloud, " you shall remain here, my poor boy, for the present ; and we will at once see about putting you into a more comfortable suit of raimpnt." lexpressed my gratitude for the kindness I was receiving : it was a sincere heartfelt gratitude which I thus poured forth in a voice tremulous with emotion ; and as I had no fear in respect to the result of the inquiry to be instituted of Mr. Jukes, it seemed to me as if I had suddenly ob- tained a permanent footing amongst individuals who would treat me generously. I withdrew from the library, and returned to the servants' hall, — where I perceived that unfeigned pleasure was experienced as I announced that I was to stay be- neath that roof for the present. The porter at tho lodge had a son of about my own age ; and a suit of that boy's clothing was speedily procured for me — so that I felt clean and comfortable once more. In respect to the family -with which accident had thus made me acquainted, I learnt from the domestics in the servants' hall that the gentleman was named Delmar, — that he had two daughters ; the elder, whose name was Clara, being married to the Hon. Mr. Mulgrave, who lived in Grosve- nor Square, London — and the yoimger being the Miss Edith whom I had seen. I also learut that Mr. Delmar had been the father of several other children by his late wife — for he was a widower — but that all had died save Clara and Edith ; and that there were fifteen years' difference between the ages of the two surviving sisters, — Mrs. Mulgrave being past thirty, and Edith only eighteen. It far- ther appeared that Mrs. Delmar had died soon after the birth of Edith, — her heart being broken by grief at beholding so many of her children perish one after the other. Mr. Delmar possessed about five thousand a-year ; and being very benevolent and charitable, was beloved by aU who knew him. The return of post from Leicester, brought a reply from Mr. Jukes, fully confirming the state- ment I had made in every particular. Mr. Delmar sent for me up into the library to com- municate this cu-cumstance, and to express his satisfaction at thus finding my narrative so tho- roughly borne out. He then went on to say, " There is evidently, Joseph, some strange mystery attached to yoiu* birth; but I should advise j'ou to think of it as little as possible, and not to indulgo in the hope that the veil will sooner or later be drawn aside : for there are no doubt substautin.l reasons for the maintenance of that mystery. When you get a little older, you wiU more fully comprehend what I mean, and will be led to con- jecture the cause of your having been abandoned by your parents. We must now speak of what is to be done with you. It is somewhat repugnant to my feehngs to make you the proposition I am about to offer, seeing that you have been tolerably well educated and somewhat decently brought up : but I really know not what else I can do for you. I£ therefore you think fit to become a page in my household, I will give you liberal wages ; and you have already seen enough of me and mine, to bo assured of good treatment. If I were to get you as a clerk into a lawyer's office, or anything of that kind, you might fail in with bad companions — advantage might be taken of your youth and inexperience — and besides which, you could scarcely earn enough, even by the utmost drudgery, to remunerate a respectable family for giving you 14 JOSEPH ■mL:3j:oT; or, the memoirs or A ma:^-seetaxt. board and lodging. Therefore, I see nothing better that I can do on your behalf — at least for a 3'car or t\\-o — than to keep you beneath this Ipof. You will have but little work of a reallv menial nature to do — nothing that is positively degrading, nov by which your feelings will be wounded." I expressed my warmest gratitude to Mr. Del- mar for his goodness towards me — assuring him that I only sought to eat the bread of industry; and that so far from hesitating to accept the pro- posal so generously made, it was much above my most sanguine expectations. He appeared pleased with my answer ; and that same day I accompanied the carriage into London — which was about three mil 33 distant — to bo measured for my page's dress. In a few days it was sent home ; and I assumed the livery of a domestic servant. But I was by no means distressed nor humOiatod thereby : I was oidy too happy at having obtained a comfortable home, and to be afforded an opportunity of earning my own livelihood. About a fortnight after my entrance into ^Ir. Delmar's family, a handsome curricle, drawn by two splendid horses, dashed up the carriage-drive one day towards the mansion. A gentleman and lady, with an elegantly apparelled livery -servant, were the occupants of the vehicle. The gentleman himself drove, and took an evident pleasure in the rapid pace and graceful action of the two steeds. He was a man about eight-and-thirty years of age — tall, handsome, and well made. lILs complexion vras somewhat dai'k : ho had an aquiline profde — his eyes were bright and piercing — his haii' curled naturally — and he was dressed in the most fashionable stylo. He had one of those voices which seem to be full of a masculine harmony — deep without being hollow, and full-toned without boing loud or sonorous. It was a very pleasing voice, and suited well the handsome person, the elegant appearance, and the polished maixners of its possessor. This gentleman was the Hon. 3Ir. Slulgrave, my benefactor's son-in-law. The lady who accompanied him, was his wife : and very different was her style of beauty from tiiat of her sister Edith. She was, as already stated, thirty- three years of age ; and though not above the mediuin height, yet appeared taller on account of the admirable symmetry of her form and the statuesque carriage of her head and bust. She had dark brown hair and deep blue eyes, — the for- mer of extraordui;iry luxuriance, and Avith a rich natiu'al gloss upon it : her complexion was good, but not of the same exquisite piu-ity of white and the same soft blush of the rose v, hich formed that of her sister. It seemed a complexion slightly, but only very slightly touched — I can scarcely say faded — by tl:e gaieties, the festivities, the late hours, and the occupations of fashionable life. Her features were lai-ger than those of Edith — but yet by no means coarse, nor devoid of classical chiselling. She had an air alike commandmg and elegant : grace and dignity characterized all her movements ; and there was a certain expression of hauteur in her look, as well as in her gait and bearing. As I have spoken at this length of the elder sister, I will here pause to describe the younger. It has already been said that Edith had a lovely i-oraplexiou and blue eyes : the former was charac- terized by all the freshness of youth, unmarrcd by the heated atmosphere of gilded saloons : the hue of the latter was of a shade lighter than the blue of Clara's eyes, and more neai-ly approaching the azui-c — while the other deepened towards the violet. Her hair was of a lighter brown, and might almost be termed chesnut : her lips were of a bright ver- miUon, — the pearly teeth showing brilliantly when smiles played upon that charming mouth. The form of Clara had the luxuriance of a Hebe blended with the symmetry of a Diana : that of Edith dis- played the Uthe slenderness and elasticity of a sylph — yet without thinness, and having the modelled contours of just proportions. The disposition of Clara, as read in her countenance at the first glance, was more serious and settled than that of the younger sister, — which was gay and artlessly blithe, without forwardness or giddiness. The one struck the beholder as being a woman of the world and a star in the circles of fashion : the other as an ingenuous, xmsophisticated creature, ignorant of the artificialities and unspoilt by the formal con- ventionalisms of society. To return to my narrative. It was a little past the hour of noon when the curricle dashed up to the front entrance of Delmar Manor ; and Edith hastened forth to greet her sister. There was something imfeignedly warm in the embrace which Edith bestowed — while the same gush of heartfelt emotion was wanting on the part of Clara, although there was nothing positively cold nor unkind on her side. Mr. Delmar received them in the hall, kissing his elder daughter, and shaking hands 'n"ith Jlr. Mulgrave. As Clara swept her eyes around, she observed me standing at a little distance ; and she said quite loud enough to be overheard by me, " I see that you have increased your household, dear father. Where did you pick ap that elegant-looking page ?" " I will tell you all about it presently, Clara," responded Mr. Delmar-; and thus speaking, he led ihe way into the parlour, followed by his daughters, — ;Mr. Midgrave, turning back to the threshold for a few moments to survey with evident pride and satisfaction his elegant equipage as the ser- vant drove it round to the stables. He was then alx)ut to enter the parlom-, when suddenly stop- ping short as if recollecting something, he beckoned me towards him, — saying, " By the bye, yoimgstcr, there is a small parcel under the front seat of the ciu'ricle, which my man knows nothing about. Just run and fetch it in." As I was hastening away to execute this com- mand, I overheard Mr. Mulgrave say to the foot- man, "Where did the governor get that neat little page ?" I did not catch the reply — but hastened after the carriage ; and having foimd the parcel, sped back into the mansion. But as I re- entered the hall, I foiuid Sir. Mulgrave still con- versing with the footman. On beholding mc, he at once advanced to receive the packet, which I presented to him ; and he eyed me with consider- able attention, — so that I made sure the footman had been giving him some particulars concerning me, and which methought had excited Mr. Mul- grave's interest — perhaps his compassion. Soon afterwards, when the parlour bell rang Rnd I hastened to respond to the summons, I noticed that Mrs. Mulgrave like\vise surveyed me in a similar manner : and my heart swelled with in- effable emotions at finding myself the object of so JOSEPH WILMOT ; OR, TUB MriMOIRS OF A MAN-SEHVANT. 15 mucli STiapathy. Mr. Delmar, adclxessmg mo in his usual tone of benevolence, desired mc to order tlie footman to serve up luncheon soon; and I hastened to obey these instructions. In the servants' hall some of the domestics were talking together relative to Mr. and Mrs. Mulgrave. It appeared from what they said, tliat the Mulgraves did not often malce their appear- ance at the Manor, and that there was frequently some little coldness between Mr. Delmar and his son-in-law, — a circumstance which surprised mo when I took into consideration the exceeding be- nevolence of my benefactor's disposition. But from some observations which the servants went on to make, I gathered that it was more than suspected tliat Mr. Mulgi-ave lived beyond his means, and that he occasionally had rccoiu'se to the purse of his father-in-law, who did not always admire ministering to his extravagances. It also appeared that the Mulgraves maintained great style at their house in Grosvenor Square — gave magnificent parties — and were indeed noted for the mingled sumptuosity and elegance of their entertainments. They had no children, and .ip- peared to abandon themselves altogether to the dissipated pleasiires of fashionable life. The dis- course of which I thus became a listener, was in- terrupted by the entrance of Mr. Mulgrave's livery -servant, who was a good-looking, well-made young man, of about four or five-and-twenty, and wliose Christian name was George. In the course of the afternoon I was in the garden gathering some fruit for the parlour- dessert, when I heard footsteps approaching along the gravel walk; and looking back, beheld Mr. Mulgrave. He was walking in a lounging, saun- tering manner ; and stopped occasionally to gaze around or to eat some fruit. At length he came close up to the spot where I was occupied : and in a kind voice, observed, " I have been listening to the narrative of your adventures, Joseph ; and really they amount to a perfect romance. I sup- pose you are very happy here ?" " Very, sir," I answered enthusiastically. " To be sure," he went on to observe. " But still it must be somewhat dull for a boy of your intelligence and discernment to Uve cooped up here in the comitry. The fact is, I want just such a page as you are ; and I have been telling my father-in-law that if he has no objection, I will take you off his hands." I have no doubt the expression of my counte- nance showed that I was suddenly grieved and troubled by the announcement just made : for I did not wish to leave Mr. Delmar's service. " Ah ! you object to my proposition ?" said Mr. Slidgrave, with a glance of vexation : but instan- taneously resuming his wonted affability of man- ner, he continued to remark, " I think you would like to be in my service, Joseph ; and you are a youth of that style which is better fitted for a town-mansion than a country-seat. You would have plenty of gaiety, variety, and amusement at my house. Besides, I should give you good wages. Now, my boy, what do you say — supposing Mr. Delmar assents r" " I am bound, sir," was my answer, " to do whatsoever Mr. Delmar wishes : but " and I stopped short, fearful of giving offence by what I was about to say : for I was on the point of ob- serving that I was not so mercenary nor ungrate- ful as to be tempted by any increase of wages to leave the service of one who had so generously snatched me from pauperism, misery, and degra- dation. " But what ?" demanded Mr. Mulgrave. " Speak out, .Joseph : toll me where your objection lies." " Simply in this, sir," I was now emboldened to answer, — ■" that it was my hope to remain for a long, longtime in my present master's service :" — and the tears came into my eyes at the thought that there was even a possibility of my quitting the Slanor. "Well, but you would be as kindly treated with Mrs. Mulgrave and me, as you are here," he went on to observe : " so you had better make up your mind to come. Shall I tell Mr. Delmar that, hav- ing taken such a f;incy to you, I have spoken to you on the subject and you are by no means un- willing ?" '■' Oh, no sir !" I interrupted him immediately : "pray do not say that — because, you know, it would not be the truth. I should be very, very sorry to leave J\Ir. Delmar. At the same time," I almost immediately added, feeling that some such acknowledgment was necessary, "I am deeply grateful to you for the kind interest thus shown on my behalf." "Well then," ejaculated Mr. Mulgrave, "we win say no more upon tlie subject. By the bye," he added, after a brief pause, " Mr. Delmar has amused me particularly with his description of those adventures you experienced when living in the companionship of some man what was his name ?" " I presume, sir, you mean the person called Tflddy," I answered, at the same time thinkmg it odd that after having shown so m-ach interest on my accoimt, Mr. Mulgrave should speak of my bitter sufferings at the wretched lodging as amusinc/. "Ah, Taddy — that's the name — and rather a queer one it is. But where is it that this strange character lives F" " I do not know, sir. Perhaps Mr. Dehnar omitted to inform you that we were rendered houseless wanderers at the same time." " To be sure — I recollect," said ilr. Mulgrave, carelessly. "But where was it that this man carried on his precious avocations — or rather at- tempted to do so ?" " In Ragamuffin Court, Saffron Hill, sir," was my answer. " Good heavens, what a name ! what a place ! The very nomenclature is fraught ■with a whole world of description. I suppose the fellow has never sought you out since you have been at the Manor ?" " No, sir," I rejoined ; " and very sorry indeed should I be if he were to dx> so." " To be sure, to be sure," observed Mi-. Mul- grave : and then he piu'sued his way saunteringly through the garden. I was very much afraid for the remainder of the day lest Mr. Delmar should yield to lus son- in-law's wishes, and consent to transfer me to his service : but nothing more was said by any one to me upon the subject ; and at about nine o'clock in the evening the Mulgraves took their departure in the beautiful little curricle. 16 JOSEPH "WILIIOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERYANT. " Joscpli," observed ]Mr. Delmar in the course of the following day, " you made for yourself new friends yesterday. Mr. and Mrs. Mulgrave quite envied me the possession of such a page ; and I can assure you that my son-in-law was very anxious to have yoa in his service. But I wo\ild not for a moment listen to the proposal ; and I do not think, Joseph, that you have any desire to leave me P" " Oh, no, sir — ^far, very far from that !" I ex- claimed, my heart bounding with delight at the assurance I had just received from my kind mas- ter's lips that ho was eq^ually: disinclined for a separation. • CHAPTER V. THE MUSEUM. — THE HUMPBACE. The library of Delmar Manor was a spacious and lofty room— very handsomely furnished — and the shelves of which were crowded ^ith books, being protected from the dust by glass doors. Along the top of the bookcases there was an array of exqui- sitely sculptured busts and curious old china vases. Communicating with this library by means of a glass-door, was a smaller room serving as a mu- seum of curiosities and objects of vcrtu. In each of the four corners stood a suit of armour, — these panopUcs belonging to four distinct periods of the age when such maU-defenccs were worn. There were cases containing specimens of polished mar- ble — others filled with peculiar shells — others with tropical birds and insects, carefully preserved : — others, again, presented to the view a variety of mineralogical sijecimcns ; and in addition to these there was a miscellaneous collection of old jars, porcelains, and vases, of all sorts of shapes and be- longing to all ages. One day, about a week after the visit of Mr. and Mrs. Mulgrave, I had occasion to enter the library to deliver a letter to Mr. Delmar, who was seated there; and with his wonted kindness of manner, he kojjt me in conversation for a few minutes. He s^Joke to me about books — told me that I was most welcome to take volumes from the library for the recreation of my leism'e hours — and pointed out a shelf where he thought I should find those which were most suitable and proper for my i^crusal. He then took me into the Museum, as the smaller room adjoining was denominated ; and as this was the first time I had been there — the first time, too, that I had ever seen suits of armour — I was much interested with the contents of the apartment. Mr. Delmar, observing that the dxist had entered some of the glass eases, and that several of the ornithological and entomological spe- cimens had fallen down or become otherwise disar- ranged, asked me if I thought I could cleanse the cases carefully and restore the objects just men- tioned to their proper position? I at once assured him that I would undertake the task, with the certainty of fulfilling it to his complete satisfaction. He accordingly instructed mo to commence at once : and having procured all that was requisite for the purpose, I shut myself in the museum and entered upon the work. This was about eleven o'clock in the forenoon ; and soon after I began, Mr. Delmar went out for a ride on horseback with Miss Edith, who was very fond of equestrian exercise. A little before one o'clock I heard the library door open again : and drawing aside the curtain of the glass door to see who was entering, I perceived tlta* ;t. was Mr. Delmar, who having returned from his ride, sat down again to continue the perusal of some volume in which he seemed deeply interested. He did not enter the museum to observe how I was acquittLag my- self of the task entrusted to me ; and I therefore concluded that he had forgotten my presence there. The work which I had to do, made no noise ; and there was consequently nothing to remind my mas- ter of my being in the museum. A few minutes after he had returned to the library, I heard the door again open ; and Edward the footman annoimced Mr. Mulgrave. I went on with my work, the thought never striking mo that any conversation of a private character was about to take place between my master and his son-in- law. Indeed, I myself was so interested in the task which I had imdertakcn, and was so absorbed in the purpose of esecutiog it with the utmost carefulness, that though I heard the voices of those gentlemen talking in the library, I for some time remained totally unconscious of the subject of their discourse. At length I was suddenly startled by hearing Mr. Delmar speak in a louder and more excited tone than I had ever before noticed during the short time I had been in his service. " No, Augustus," he exclaimed ; " I will not do it ! Listen — do not interrupt me. You have now been married to Clara ten years : and during that period you have received from me no less than fourteen thousand pounds, in addition to the ten thousand I gave her as a dowry. Your extrava- gances, sir, arc past all endurance. I have remon- strated with j'ou gently and kindly — I have spoken to you angrily — I have discoursed seriously, and I hope in a mannner consistent with my duty as your father-in-law : but all to no purpose. It is invariably the same stoiy. Fresh debts — fresh promises of retrenchment — and renewed disregard for all these pledges so solemnly given. Your brother, Lord Eccleston, who so generously allows you fifteen hundred a year, is likewise wearied of your incessant importunities " " Importunities ?" echoed Mr. Mulgrave, with the startled abruptness of anger : " this is a hard word, sir." " I grieve, Augustus," replied Mr, Delmar, more mildly than for the last few minutes he had been speaking, — " I am truly and deeply grieved to bo compelled to use it: but I am forced to speak plainly. Your brother has a large family to sup- port ; and you cannot deny that he has done Ids best for you. For heaven's sake do not weary out his patience by too frequent demands upon his pm-se ! As for myself, I am determined not to minister any longer to your extravagances." " But, my dear sir," urged Mr. Mulgrave, now adoj)ting a tone of entreaty, " do consider the position in which I am placed. What is fifteen himdred a year to keep up a certain degree of style ?" " Fifteen himdred a year," rejoined Mr. Delmar, " for a couple who have no children, is an ample revenue. With proper economy it will enable you to maintain the establishment in Grrosvenor Square i — nltl;ougb, as you are well aware, it WAi5 against my wish tliat you removed thither from the cheaper dwelling you occupied for the first two or three years of your marriage. But if you will con- etantly be giving the most sumptuous parties — if every two or three months you make some fresh purchase of horses — if you bet upon races, — and what is more fatal still, Augustus, if you frequent Crockford's gambling den — for I can call it nothing else — it is no wonder that you should be in con- Btant diffictdties, and that you require almost as many thousands as you possess hundreds." '•Well, sir," retiu-ned Mulgrave, still in a sub- missive manner, " I know there is a great deal of truth in what you say : but if for this once you will extricate me from the difficulty in which I am placed It is but a couple of thousand pounds I ask at your hands " " See, Augustus," interrupted ilr. Delmar, '•' how Ughtly you talk of a very large sum. Only a couple of thousand pounds ! It is move tl an your whole year's income ; and yet it is all to go in an hoxir, or a minute, to pay off debts. Now listen to me : for matters have come to that crisis which renders it necessary that I should give you a few explanations." There was a brief pause, diu-ing which I was about to open the door and pass away from a place where I was thus rendered an unwilling listener of the painful scene that was in progress : but at the very moment my fingers touched the handle, Mr. Delmar resumed his discourse ;— and he spoke in such a solemn tone — indeed there was something so awe-inspiring in the first words that he went on to speak— that I hung back, not daring to ob- trade myself : for, as the reader will understand, in order to leave the museum it was absolutely necessary to pass through the library. " "When my lamented wife was stretched upon her death-bed," continued Mr. Delmar, — "and 18 JOSEPH WItiMOT; OB, THE MEMOIRS 07 A SliN-SERTANT. when, almost liGart-brokcn, I knolt by the side of that couch, sacredly aud fervently promising that whatever her last instructions might be, they should receive the completest fidfilment, — she im- plored me to leave my property at my death equally between our two surviving children. These, as you know, were Clara aud Edith. I gave a solemn pledge to that effect ; indeed, such woidd have been my intention even without that last injunc- tion of my poor dying wife. My will has been made in that sense ; this writing-desk contains it, aud not for worlds would I make the slightest alteration in its provisions. Now perhaps, Augus- tas, you begin to understand to what end these explanations are to lead: for if year after year I am thus caUed upon to advance large sums in support of your extravagances, you wiU find that t'le share of my property which is to devolve to Clara, will be woefully diminished. All the money hitherto advanced — including even the ten thousand pounds which formed her dowry — has been duly taken into account; and it is eo much the less that you wiU hare to receive when it shall please heaven to remove me hence. Now, Augustus, you com- prehend the exact position in which, as my elder daughter's husband, you are placed. If you have no regard for Clara's welfare — the welfare of yoiu: own wife — it is my duty to take measiu-es to ensure her against that eventual distress which will in- evitably be brought about by the coui-se you are pursuiog, unless you quickly and eflfectively reform your conduct. But having given you these explanations, I will afford you one more chance. You shall have the two thousand pounds which yoiu' present necessities demand: but if with this knowledge of the exact position wherein you are placed with regai'd to my wiU, you again call upon me for pecimiary pm'poses, — rest assured that, painfvd though such a coui-se woiUd be for me, you will meet with a stern refusal. Now we will say no more upon the subject; and I will write you a cheque for the sum you require." There was another pause; and as I supposed the painful scene to be altogether at an end, I no longer thought it necessary to leave the museum. I felt sorry at having remained there diu-ing a discourse of so entirely a private and domestic nature : but I had been rendered an unwilling listener — and it was utterly impossible to close my cars against a conversation which through the glass door was so plainly audible. " Accept my best thanks," said Mr. Mulgrave, doubtless as the cheque was placed in his hand : " and rely upon my promise to retrench. I ^vill now take my departiu-e and settle this unpleasant business as quick as possible : for I am really iifraid I shall find an execution in the house when I get home. By the bye, as one means of re- trenchment, I wiU get rid of the imder -footman and take a page in his stead : it will be much more economical. I suppose you have made up your mind to keep that boy what's his name F" " You mean Joseph," said Mr. Delmar — " the lad you saw the other day ?" " Yes," repUed Mulgrave. " I think you might just as well let me have him " " No, Augustus," interrupted my kind master — and his resjionse relieved me from a feeling of acute suspense wliich had suddenly seized upon me ; " the boy ia happy here — he is a good boy too — and I mean to keep him. Perhaps it may sooner or later be discovered who he really is : the mystery of his birth may bo cleared up;— and should it transpii'e, as there is every reason to suppose, that his parents (if living) move in a genteel sphere of life, I should be sorry if he were to be handed over to them otherwise than as one who had effectually escaped the temptations, the snares, and the vices with which the metropolis abounds. So I am resolved to keep him." " Oh, of course !" ejaculated the Hon. Mr. Mul- grave. " I only thought that if you really had no use for him, I could take him off your hands. But as you seem resolved to keep him, well and good : and I am glad of it^for he is really a nice boy, and I felt much interested in him." Mr. JIulgrave and Mr. Delmar then quitted the library together; and it appeared perfectly clear to me that my master had not supposed mo to be in the museum. Indeed, if ho had remembered at all the task entrusted to me, he most probably thought that I was down in the servants' hail dua'ing the preceding scene : but it happened that the dinner was later there than usual on this par- ticular day, and the bell to summon the servants had not as yet rung. It began to rmg a few minutes after my master and Mr. Mulgrave had issued from the library : and I lost no time in re- pairing to the servants' hall in obedience to the summons. When dinner was over, I returned to the museum : but Mr. Delmar came not back to the library during the afternoon ; and I found that he had taken Miss Edith out for a walk. The next tMne he saw me — wliich was in the evening — he said nothing to show tliat the thouglit had in the interval occurred to him that I might have been in the museum while that painful scene was passing -n-ith his son-in-law ; — and of com'se I said nothing upon the subject. Nor did I mention to a single soul what I had thus overheard. Three or four days passed, and my work in the museum was concluded to the entire satisfaction of Mr. Delmar. One afternoon, as I was up in my chamber, I observed a hackney-coach rumbling along the carriage-drive towards the entrance of the mansion : but I did not perceive who alighted, as the window of my room was on the side of the house, and commanded not a view of the front. I had just finished putting on my livery, when Edward the footman entered my chamber to tell me that I was wanted in the parlovu- down stairs. It was \musual for me to be thus specially fetched ; and the recollection of that hackney-coach flashing back to my mind, I was instantaneously struck with the idea of something wrong, — but I knew not what. I asked Edward wherefore I was wanted ? He did not know ; but said that two strange men, whom he had never seen before, and one of whom was a humpbacked dwarf, were with Mr. Delmar. They had however given no name ; and he was utterly at a loss to conjecture what their business might be. He saw that I looked vmeasy, and said something to cheer me : for he was a very good- natured man, and I had become a great favourite not only with him, but also with the other ser- vants. I lost no time in descending to the parlour ; and I remember that my heart palpitated and I felt a feverish kind of nervousness : for notwith- standing Edward's cheering words, the dread of JOSEPH TVILirOT ; on, THE lIEirOIRS OP A MAN-SEBTANT. 19 " eo'.nstliing wrong was uppermost in my mind. On oponiiig the parlour-door, I was seized with per- fect consternation on beholding Mr. Jukes seated in that room ! Mr. Delmar was standing behind a chair, on whifh lie leant -n-ith both his hands ; and the quick appealing glance which I threw upon him, showed inc that his countenance wore an expression of ominous misgiving. But before I go on to explain what took place, I will endeavour to depict the appearance of the third person whom I found there. He. was, as Edward had described him, a very short man, much deformed, ^vith a humped shoulder greatly protruding. He was apparently about fifty years of age — with harsh iron-gray hair — shaggy overhanging brows — and a cada- verous countenance, marked with the small-pox. He had a cunning, apish, disagreeable look — not merely disagreeable, but repulsive, and one from which it was impossible to help recoiling. His deep-set eyes partly resembled those of the weasel and i^artly those of the snake. The light seemed hanging as it were in their depths : and ho looked out with a cold but searching gaze, penetrating and hideously fascinating. He was apparelled in a suit of black, evidently quite new : his hands were of enormous size — his arms exceedingly long : his legs were very short — and his enormous feet were cased in shoes vrith the strings tied in large bows. Altogether he had the appearance of a haboon dressed up. It was not however at the first glance that I scrutinized him sufficiently to "be enabled to record this description : for as I have already said, I was seized with consternation on beholding Mr. Jukes ; and the serious look of foreboding which Mr. Delmar wore, was but little calculated to inspire mc with com-age. The dwarfish humpback leapt down from his chair, and hastening across the room towards me, appeared about to extend Ids arms — I knew not whether to embrace or knock me down, — when Z^Ir. Delmar, as if suddenly struck by a thought, sprang after him ; and holding him back, said quickly, " Stop, sir — let us break it gently." " Ah, to be sure— quite right — very prudent in- deed," responded the hiunj)back, his voice having a sort of rattling, husky, jamng sound, which grated terribly upon the ears, while his apish mouth grinned significantly on one side, as he glanced up over his deformed shoulder at Mr. Delmar. '• How do you do, Joseph ?" said Mr. Jukes to me, as he nodded his head in a half-famUiar, half- patronizing manner ; and his countenance had put ofi" its sternness ^ow. I did not answer : I was bewildered with teiTor and suspense. What did all this mean ? why was Jukes there ? who was the humpback ? wherefore did Mr. Delmar look mournfully serious ? and what was the intelligence that had to be broken to me ? " Joseph," said my kind master, taking me by the hand and leading me a little on one side — while the humpback tiu'ned to converse in a whis- "per with Mr. Jukes, — " Joseph, my dear boy," — and the exceeding benevolence of Mr. Delmar's voice and look tended to aggravate my misgivings: ■for I felt that so much sympathy could only be the preciirsor of some very disagreeable intelligence : "I have an importaiit communication to make. Pre- pare yourself to hear it — do not be excited — per- haps you vriU be rejoiced :" — and yet the expres- sion of his features was utterly at variance with the hope which he had thus thrown out. I tried to speak ; I longed to be put out of sus- pense : but I coidd not give utterance to a word. I was gasping : my throat felt as if I had swal- lowed ashes ; and I must have been pale as death, — for the anguish of feeling I experienced and the mortal terror that was upon me, were supreme. " Yes, Joseph," resumed Mr. Delmar, who, though he understood the agony of suspense I was enduring, was yet evidently loath to commimieatc what would put an immediate end thereto ; — " it is a very important piece of intelligence which I have to impart. You are about to leave mo, Joseph " " No, sir — no— never !" I shrieked forth, the ■n"ilduess of my despair suddenly unlocking my tongue and finding a vent in words. " Never, never !" — and falling on my knees, I clung with my arms clasped around Mr. Delmar's legs. " For Grod's sake do not cast me off, su* ! for God's sake, do not !" As I thus spoke in a rending tone, I flimg my shuddering looks towards the humpback ; for the conviction was strong in my mind that it was to this individual's care, through the agency of Mr. Jukes, I was to be handed over; — and at the mo- ment I woidd sooner have been hurled amidst the slimy folds of a coiled-up boa-constrictor, than be assigned to the power of that horrible lump of de- formity. From his countenance those shuddering looks of mine were quickly reverted with the strongest recoil : for it struck me that there was something terribly malignant in his eyes as they surveyed me from beneath the shaggy overhanging brows, like a reptile looking out from a cave edged with furze. I beht4d a tear trembling on Mr. Delmar's lashes : he hastily brushed it away ; and assuming the au' of one who musters all his strength of mind for the performance of a duty as painful as it is imperious, he said, " Rise, Joseph — and listen to what I have to say. You must hear it, my poor boy, sooner or later ; and it is better you should know it at once." I did rise; and I stood pale and trembling, with dismay and terror depicted on my coimtenance, — my looks again darting towards the humpback, and then being as quickly reverted to the benevo- lent countenance of Mr. Delmar. Oh ! what a contrast between the viUanous features of the former, and the serene but serious philanthropy expressed in those of the latter ! "Yes, Joseph — it is indeed true," continued my master : '• you are about to leave me. But heaven knows vdtla what sincerity I declare it is against my own inclination ! Cast you cif, my boy ? no, never — I could not have done so ! But that person that gentleman," ho added, correcting himself, as if the first term which he had used con- stituted an inciviUty, — " has certam claims " "What claims r" I demanded with excited vehemence : " what claims ?" — for Mr. Delmar, as he spoke, had glanced towards the humpback. "That gentleman Sir. Lanover," continued my master, "has been led by the advertisements which Mrs. Nelson inserted in the newspapers, to iuqiure after you : for he is he is " " "\Vhat ? — in the name of God, what ?" I in- 20 JOSEPH TVILMOT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF A 3IAN-SERyA>T. quired, gasping forth the words : for I felt a sudden faintness at the heart — a sickness — a sen- sation as if the blood were running down into my feet, and that thus life was on the point of ebbing quick out of me through my extremities. '• That gentleman — Mr. Lanover — is your uncle :" — and iMr. Delmar spoke \\"ith a hesitation amounting almost to aversion. " My uncle !" I murmiu'ed : and I staggered back against the wall. "Yes — my dear Joseph," said the humpback, now again advancing towards me, and speaking in his harsh disagreeable voice ; '•' I am your uncle. Your father and mother are dead — I am your nearest relative — I come to take you home Embrace me." I endeavoured to be calm : I exerted all the power of my youtliful being to control the wild rush of horrified feelings that were surging up within me. The efF(jrt I thus made was stujjen- dous: but those feelings were stronger than my- self — horror, loathing, disgust, abhorrence, terror, and aversion, were all concentrated therein; and as he approached closer towards me, I shrieked forth, " No, no !" — covering my face with my hands as if to shut out a hideous monster from my view. '•' Well, this is pretty, upon my word," said Mr. Lanover, stopping short. '•■ Joseph, I am ashamed of you," observed Mr. Jukes, iu a voice of deprecating severity. " Mrs. Nelson, I am sm-e, never brou.ght you up to such undutiful disobedience as this. Y''ou ought to fling yourself into the arms of this kind good uncle who is going to take you to a hapjiy home." " No, no !" I again screamed out. " I will stay with Mr. Delmar :" — but as I abruptly with- drew my hands from my countenance and turned a look of entreaty on my kind master, I was smitten with despair on seeing that he shook his head gloomily. At this moment the door opened; and Edith Delmar — who, as I afterwards learnt, had heard in another room my piercing ejaculations — sud- denly made her appearance. She seemed to me like a guardian angel : there was hope in the presence of that bright and beautiful creature. I flew towards her ; and throwing myself at her feet, exclaimed passionately, '• Save me, Miss Delmar — Oh, save me from that dreadfid man !" — and I pointed towards Lanover. " Save you, my poor boy," repeated Edith, her eyes sweeping round iu astonishment upon the scene : and then her looks recoiled from the humpback >vith an abhorrence which, despite her good breeding and the natural generosity of her heart, she could not possibly conceal. " Rise, Joseph — rise," said Mr. Delmar, hasten- ing forward to catch me by the arm and lift me up from my suppliant posture. '" You know that both I and my daughter would do whatever w-e could to serve you : but the claims of a relative are, I fear, paramount." " A relative ?" said Edith inquii-ingly. " Yes, my dear," responded Mr. Delmar : then, as he indicated the dwarf, he went on to observe, " This gentleman proclaims himself to be Joseph's uncle. He saw the advertisements inserted by Mrs. Nelson in the uewspaiisrs, calling upon the friends or relations of Joseph "\Yilmot to come for- ward. He proceeded to Leicester ; and hearinf something that led him to apply to Mr. Jukes, he learnt under what circumstances Joseph had left that city and where he was now to be found. Mr. Jukes, in his capacity of a Poor Law Guardian of Leicester, considered it right and proper to accom- pany Mr. Lanover to London, to see that Joseph was duly assigned to his care. Certain particulars have been given me by Mr. Lanover in respect to Joseph's parentage : but it is unnecessary to men- tion them." I Ustened with a wild trepidation to these ex- planations ; and when they were finished, I darted my appealing looks lirst at Mr. Delmar, then at his daughter — then back again upon the father, and once more upon Edith. The j^oung lady was evidently much distressed ; and I am certain that she entered fuUy into the feeling of abhorrence and disgust which I entertained in respect to Mr. Lanover. For a moment — but only for a moment — my soul was smitten with remorse and sorrow at the betrayal of feeUngs into which I had been led in respect to one who, proclaiming himself my uncle, sought to embrace me and offered me a home. But the next instant that compunctious sensation passed away : for when I again bent my shuddering looks upon the repulsive countenance of the hideous monster, I felt that I never could ackno\\ledge him as my uncle — and that even if he had announced himself as my father, I should have recoiled from him with the same insurmount- able repugnance. I could not help it : — the feel- ing struck me as being unnatural, ungrateful, and wicked; but I had no power over volition — I was not master of mysclf^I could no more control my o\\n sensations than I could have quieted tho raging eddies of the Maelstrom. '• But perhaps," suggested Edith, " as Joseph feels happy here, Mr. Lanover will allow him to remain ?" " If you will," cried Mr. Delmar eagerly, " his livery shall be put off, and he shall be treated in a different manner." '• Y'ou are very kind," responded the humpback : and methought (but I afterwards reflected it might be mere fancy) that his apish mouth grinned ma- lignantly: '"you are very kind — but it is my duty to take charge of my nephew. When he comes to know me better, he will like me ; and I shall for- give liim tlus little ebullition of feeling which he has displayed towards me." " If you wish me well," I exclaimed, with con- tinued vehemence, " leave me w^ere I am ! In that case I shall be no burthen upon you — nor will I eat the bread of idleness here. I will work for my food. Leave me therefore — leave me." " Well, I never saw such a boy," said Mr. Jukes, affecting to hold \ip his hands in amazement. " There is his kind uncle " '■' Come, Joseph — you must come," said the dwart quickly : and he again advanced towards me. " No, no !"' I once more shrieked out, and rushed behind Mr. Delmar for protection, — cling- ing to that gentleman as if to the only barrier be- tween myself and the vortex of despair. My good master was evidently irresolute how to act. Edith approached him ; and I heard her whisper in his ear, in a tone of entreaty, '• Do consider, dear j JOSEPH WIIMOT ; OE, THE MEJIOIHS OF A MAX-SEETANT. 21 father, whether there be not soaie means of saving the pear boy from a fate which he views with such horror." " Well," said ITr. Delmar, as if suddenly inspired by a thought, " I must take time, ilr. Lanovcr, to decide upon the course to be adopted." " Oh ! my heart's gratitude is yours, sir — and yours too. Miss," I said in a tone which though fervent, was nevertheless so low as only to reach their ears. " "What does this mean '■■" demanded Mr. Lan- over, in a fierce voice. '■' What need is there for consideration ? The boy is my nephew — I claim him, and I ^^ill have him." " If you put the matter in this light," answered Mr. Delmar, '•' I shall assume the same high tone. Eemember, sir, I have only your bare word for the claim you assert upon the lad : you have given me no documentary proof." '•■ This is trul}' ridiculous," rejoined the hump- back, with a sneer. '•' Ask Mr. Jukes whether, when I sought him out at Leicester, I did not already know everything concerning the lad — how he was entrusted to the Nelsons, and all about him. And how could I have kno^ii this, if I were not his relation ?" " It's quite true, su-," observed Jukes, addi-ess- ing himself to Mr. Delmar. " ilr. Lanover knew all about Joseph ; and he told me at once those particulars respecting the boy's birth which he just now described to you. Joseph's mother was Mr. Lanovcr's sister " " But still," interrupted Mr. Delmar, '■' I must have documentary proof of these averments. It is a serious thing to surrender up a mere child like this to a stranger." "AVhat nonsense!" ejaculated Mr. Lanover. " Stranger indeed ? — an imcle is no stranger. I am a respectable man. living on my means : you can inquire about mc if you like. 3Iy house is Number — , Great Eussell Street, Bloomsbury. I have a wife and daughter But why should I stand arguing here ? I insist, sir, that you give up the boy at once." Mr. Delmar made no immediate response. I was still crouching behind him, and therefore could not see his face : but I judged that it expressed a return of irresolution, because Edith flung upon her father another look of anxious entreaty on my behalf. Oh, how I blessed her for it ! — aye, I did 60 then and there, even amidst the whirl of my terribly excited feelings. " Yes, sir," said Mr. Jukes, again putting in his word ; " it's my duty to see the boy given up to his relation. He became chargeable to the parish of which I am guardian ; and I am bound to assure myself that he is placed in the hands of one who wiU prevent him from being thrown back upon us at Leicester." " Xow I have made up my mind how to act," suddenly observed 5Ir. Delmar, in a tone of firm decision. " With respect to you, Mr. Jukes, I wiU send you a ^vritten undertaking by the post — an undertaking which my attorney shall draw up — to save Joseph WUmot from becoming chargeable to your parish, or to meet all the costs if he should. So you, sir, have nothing more to do with the matter. In respect to yov,, Mr. Lanover, I am a justice of the peace, and I wUi treat the case magisterially. I decline therefore to deliver up this boy until you produce documentary evidence of a certain character,— amongst which must be the marriage certificate of your deceased sister -n-ith Mr. Wilmot, so as to prove that Joseph was born in wedlock : otherwise you can assert no uncle's claim upon him. Bring mc such documentary evidence, and I will no longer oppose your demand. If you do not like this course, you have your remedy — you can apply to the proper tribunals — and I ^\-ill meet you there. Xow, sir, j-ou have my decision ; and it is needless to prolong this painful interview." '•' Oh, very well 1" ejaculated Mr. Lanover, in the harsh jarring sounds of his disagreeable voice — now rendered more than ever disagreeable by the concentrated rage which was expressed in its accents ; " I will make you smart for this I My attorney shall enter an action against you " '■■ Spare your threats, sir," responded Delmar, sternly : " your lavi'yer can have the address of mine whenever he chooses." " Then he will send for it to-morrow," rejoined the humpback. '■' Come, Mr. Jukes — we wiU take ourselves off; and if there's justice in England, I wUl have it." 3Ir. Delmar condescended to give no farther reply; and the two men quitted the room, the I hiuopback banging the door violently behind him. I No sooner had they disappeared, than ^^•ith feelings 1 of unspeakable relief I threw myself upon my knees at the feet of Mr. Delmar and his daughter, and poured forth my gratitude as well as I woa \ able. But my voice was half suffocated with the emotions that seemed to come iip into my very throat ; and the tears rained do\^Ti my cheeks. They spoke to me in the kindest and most sooth- ing manner, — Mr. Delmar promising that he would not consent to part from mc imless forced by the strong arm of the law. I besought him to tell me whether he really believed that the law could be thus used as a weapon against me : whereupon he said that, feeling he should be wrong if he lulled me into a false security, he must reply to the effect that should Mr. Lanover's statements be proved by documentary evidence, I must be given up to him. Then I asked, with renewed agitation, whether MJr. Delmar apprehended that the evidence would be forthcoming ? He rejoined I that it was impossible to conjecture. I '•■ But," I exclaimed vehemently, " do you be- lieve, sir, that he is in reality my imcle ? How is it that I was seized with so terrible a repugnance towards him V I " Without touching upon this latter point," I answered Mr. Delmar, "let us look at the whole proceeding calmly and seriously : for, I repeat, it is better you should not be lulled into a false ; security. My candid opinion is that Mr. Lanover must be your uncle. The argument he used was a just one : — how could he possibly have become ac- quainted with all the antecedents of your life unless he were thus related to you ? Besides, the story he told me of your birth, but which I need not repeat to you now, was consistent and plau- sible. It is true that Mr. Jukes might have told him all that he himself had learnt from Mrs. Nel- son, and which you one day overheard : but then comes the question — why should Mr. Lanover claim you if he be not your uncle ? why should ho seek to burthen himself with your maintenance ? 22 JOSEPH "VVIIMOT; OR, THE ME5I0IES OF A MAN■-SEEVA^'T. why should he have gone to all this trouble and expense to find you out ?" I was struck by the force of these observations • — and my countenance fell. "At the same time," continued Mr. Delmar, " I have my doubts whether Mr. Lanover will pursue the matter any farther, inasmuch as I have thrown such obstacles in his way. He must appeal to the tribunals; and the procedure -nill cost him a considerable sum. At aU events, Joseph, keep up your spirits — do not give way to despondency — and rest assm-ed that you wiU never want a friend so long as I remaui alive. As for parting from you, I repeat my solemn assurance that I will only do so if actually compelled by the law." " Yes — cheer up, Joseph," added Edith : '■' and perhaps all will yet be well." I renewed the expression of my fervent grati- tude for the kindness I had received : and then Mr. Delmar proposed that I should put off my livery and live upon a better footing beneath his roof: for he assured me that if Mr. Lanover's tale of my birth could be relied on as the truth, my parents had moved in a genteel sphere. But I would not listen to this generous offer : I was re- solved not to be a positive burden to my kind benefactor; — and moreover, I represented that I could not assume the position of a gentleman imtil thoroughly convinced that I had been born to it, and that I should always have the means of maintaining it. Mr. Delmar consented to let me have my own way — at least for the present, until it should be ascertained whether Mr. Lanover pur- posed to take any farther proceedings, or not. CHAPTEE VI. THE INCIDENTS OF A NIGHT. The reader will remember that I described the porter, who occupied the lodge at the entrance of the grounds, as a stern-looking man, and that he had spoken very sharply indeed to me and Taddy on the morning that we presented ourselves at the gate in the form of mendicants : but I subsequently found, on better acquaintance with him, that he was by no means a bad sort of person. The neigh- bourhood was however so often visited by vagrants, and his master's generosity had been so frequently abused in the grossest manner to the porter's knowledge, that his temper was soured in resj)ect to such applicants ; and he assured me that he had found it necessai'y to adopt the harshest de- meanour towards those whom he judged to. be undeserving of charity. He informed me that, at the very first glance, he had penetrated through Tad- dy's real character ; and had concluded that he was accompanied by me in the hope of exciting a sym- pathy which he knew his own personal appearance would scarcely create. He farther stated that it was he himself who had caused the notice against vagrants to be posted up at the entrance to the park, — inasmuch as when his back was tm'ned and the gate happened to be unlocked, they would walk in; and after prowling about the groimds, would very likely self-appropriate whatsoever they could convemently lay their hands upon. It farther appeared that about two years previously, a bur- glarious attempt had been made upon the Manor ; and that one of the desperadoes being arrested, was recognised as having visited the premises, no doubt to reconnoitre, as a whining mendicant a day or two before. Then was it that the board warnin"- vagrants off, had been put up. It however seemed, from what I learnt, that it was much against the wishes of Mr. Delmar and Miss Enith that such a notice should have been reared upon the estate ; and it was only in consequence of the earnest re- presentations of the porter that it vcas allowed to remain. The reader will not have forgotten that it was the porter's son who had lent me a suit of clothes, on my first entrance into Mr. Dehaar's service, until my livery was in reatliness. This lad, who was about my own age, was a steady, well-conducted, and intelligent youth; and I sometimes walked with him through the grounds. His father, whom I had at first supposed to be so very stern and surly, took a great liking to me, and always welcomed me into the lodge when I sought his son during a leisure hour. His wife was a kind woman, and exhibited the utmost sympathy on my behalf. After the scene which has been described in the preceding chapter, Mr. Dehnar considerately bade me go and take a walk, so as to divert my mind from anxious reflection upon the painful incidents which had occurred. It was now six o'clock in the evening : Mr. Delmar and Miss Edith sat down to dinner ; and I, profiting by the permis- sion accorded, rambled out. My first thought was to wander by myself and give way to my reflec- tions ; but remembering it was for the precise purpose of avoiding moui'nful meditation that my services for the evening were dispensed with, I bent my way to the porter's lodge to seek the companionship of his son Arthur. The porter and his family were at tea; they made me sit down ■with them ; and when the meal was over, Arthur and I strolled forth. The estate consisted of about two huncU-ed acres ; and as it was now the end of August, the golden harvests were yielding to the reapers' hands. It was a delicious even- ingj^a gentle breeze breathing over the fields, and giving freshness to the air after the sultry heat of the day. We extended our walk until nine o'clock : I had regained almost nay wonted cheer- fulness of spirits ; and as I had scarcely eaten a mouthful at tea, I experienced a somewhat keen appetite. On our retm-n to the porter's lodge, Arthur's mother insisted that I should enter and partake of supper with them — an invitation which I accepted. It was about a quarter to ten o'clock when I left the lodge and began to hurry through the park towards the mansion, which was about a quarter of a mile distant. The night had set in somewhat dark — the genile breeze of the evening had strengthened into wind — and several black clouds were being boi'ne quite fast over the deep purple sky. The servants' en- trance was by a gate in a wall surrounding a courtyard at the back part of the house ; and this gate was always kejDt locked after dusk. As I approached it, by a narrow path diverging frorti the carriage-drive, I was seized with a sudden alai-m on l:ieholding what appeared t-o me to be the forms of two men, moving rapidly away from the gate, and hurrving along the wall, disappeaa- in the J03EPII WIL:\I0T ; oil, THE MEJIOIRS 01' A MAX-SERVAXT. 23 darkness. I stood still aud listened : but I coidd eatcli no sound of footsteps nor of voices ; and therefore I thought it might be imaginaiidu on my part. Ifevertheless, I determined to inquire ; and \,!ien Edward answered the gate-bell, which I rang, I asked whether any persons had called ■withm the last fev^ minutes. He replied in the negative ; and I explained to him wherefore I made the inquiry. He said that the two men might possibly be labourers returning later than usual from their work ; and as there were two or tlu-ee cottages situated about half-a-mile in the rear of the mansion — consequently in the same dii-ection which those persons (if it were not my fancy) were pui-suing — Frederick's explanation seemed probable enough, Therefore nothing more was said upon the subject ; aud after remaining a few minutes in the servants' hall, I took a candle and ascended to my own chamber. "When I went to bed, it was some time before I could get to sleep. Naturally enough, the in- cidents of the afternoon kept forcing themselves upon my mind : I grew feverish and imeasy with restlessness — I looked forward with apprehension to any farther designs which might develop them- selves on Mr. Lanover's part — aud I dreaded lest by pushing matters to extremes, he might compel Jlr. Delmar to part with me. Gradually, how- ever, my thoughts fell into confusion ; and sleep came upon my eyes. Then the objects of terror which had been uppermost in my mind while I v,as awake, began to haunt me in my dreams. At first I fancied that Mr. Jukes, stern and im- placable, was dragging me into the entrance-way of the gloomy workhouse at Leicester; and that the porter with the repidsive coimtenance, was grinning in fiendish mockery at my ineffectual endeavours to escape from my persecutor's clutches. All of a sudden Mr. Jukes appeared to have changed into Mr. Lanover, who was dragging me along : but instead of the place being the Leicester workliouse, it was some dark and dreadful cavern, with a steep descent down which I was thus being- forced. Nevertheless, methought that though the yawning aliyss was dark as a sepulclu'e, and A'sith imsecn horrors liu'king in its depths, it appeared as if the form of Mr. Lanover vras distinctly visible ; and that instead of being apparelled in a new siut of black, his deformed shape was wrapped in the loatlssome rags of beggary. I fancied, too, that his eyes — with their half-weasel, half-snake- like expression — glared at me, penetratingly thou'^h cold ; and that his aj^ish mouth griiuied horribly in mockery and scorn. Again the scene changed ; and I found myself, in imagination, accompanying Mr. Taddy thi-ough some of those vile dens and abhorrent scenes amidst v.hich he had dragged me when we distributed the cu-crdars. Methought that he was walking behind, compelling me to go on in front through fear that I should run away fi-om him ; aud that some spell which I coidd not shake off, compelled me thus (o remain subser- A-ient to his will. Horrors appeared to be deepen- ing around me : the squalid shapes of poverty and nameless forms of vice, paesing to and fro, as- sumed the aspect of hideous spectres and ghastly objects belonging to another world. I felt my blood stagnating aud freezing into ice in my veins : my feet grew heavy as lead — I could not drag niyself along any farther. I turned round to fix an imploring glance upon Mr. Taddy,- - when all of a sudden I found it was the iadeous- looking Lanover that had me in his power, j^.gaiu he appeared to grm horribly: his form dilated into monstrous jjroportions, preserving however its distorted shape ;— and as he stretched out his long baboon-like arms to fold me ui his loathsome embrace, I awoke with a sadden start. Was it indeed only a di-eam ? My chamber was as dark as pitch, so that I could not satisfy myself by means of my eyes that I was really tliere : and such an awful consternation was upon me that I could not even stretch out my arms to grasp the curtains, to feel the texture, and thus convince myself that I was in my own bed. I lay motionless for iqiwards of a minute, while my thoughts settled themselves into a more composed state. The wind was blowing freshly ; it appeared to moan round the building like human tones and lamentations of distress, — sometliaes rising into a sweeping blast, the sound of which to my fevered imagination appeared to bear the cry of murder upon it. I was not at all inclined to be super- stitious : but I felt alarmed— my mind had become attenuated by the hideous dreams thi'ough which I had been passing, and which I seemed to have the knowledge of having lasted for some hours. There was a sensation upon me as if a presentiment of evil were at work within me — as if, too, I had the intuitive consciousness of some dread deed of turpi- tude being accomplished. I recollected those two forms I had seen — or fancied to have seen — near the servants' entrance; and these shapes associated themselves with the forebodings which were in my mind. I felt that I shoidd not be able to compose myself to sleep again for at least some time : I longed to get up, light a caudle, and take a book to read: but so great was the nervous terror- vague and indeliuite though it were — which was upon me, that I dared not step forth from my bed. I really had the apprehension that I should fail into the arms of Lanover, or else of some monster, if I did so. It was the lirst time in my life I had ever been imder the influence of such an awful species of alarm ; and vainly did I endeavour to reason myself out of it. While I was lying in this condition, in the pitchy darkness of my chamber, — for the black night seemed to hang like a sable pall against the vrindow facing the bed, so that the gloom which surroimded me was imbroken in its densencss, — methought I heard the sound of a gate closing with some little degree of violence, just as if having escaped from the hand of some one going out or coming in, it Vtas banged to by the wind. I felt assured also that it was the gate of the ser- vants' entrance, and not any oilier within the cnclosiu'e-walls. This circumstance gave renewed poignancy to my terrors, but turned them into another channel. I lost all sense of superstitious awe ; and was smitten with the apprehension lest my foreboding with regard to real and positive wrong-doing should prove correct. That I had heard the sound of the gate, I felt convinced: but then, might it not have been accidentally left open ? This was scarcely probable, as the servants of the establishment were steady in their habits and regular in the performance of their duties ; and I knew that Edward the footman never retired to rest at night till he had seen the back premises 2^ JOSEPH TVILMOT ; OR, THE MEWOIRS OF A MAK•SERTA^^. thoroughly secured. I was more than half- inclined to rise, seek his chamber, and tcU him what I had heard : but I feared to disturb the household for nothing. Besides, I reasoned to myself that if any eril-disposed persons were about the premises, they would not prosecute their design after the occurrence of a sound so well cal- culated to attract the notice of any inmate who might not be asleep : while, on the other hand, if their design were already accomplished and the house was already plundered, it was too late to guard against it. I lay awake for two or three hours, in a condition of feverish nervousness, — despairing of being able to woo slumber again : but it nevertheless stole back upon me — and I slept till morning was considerably advanced. My usual habit was to rise at sis o'clock : I was fond of being out early in the fresh air in the fine season of the year; — but on this occasion it was close on seven ere I opened my eyes. I thought, as I rose and dressed myself, of all that I had dreamt, imagined, and heard during the past night ; and I had not finished my toilet when it struck me that considerable noise and confusion was going on in the house, with persons rushing to and fro : then, aU of a sudden, a piercing scream in a female voice rang through the mansion. I felt convinced that those rending accents of ineflfable anguish came from the lips of Miss Edith ; and I was smitten with the most awful misgiving. Footsteps were now heard rushing towards my chamber — the door burst open — and Edward, pale as death, and his features convulsed with horror, made his appearance, exclaiming, " Oh ! Joseph, Joseph— our dear master " But he could not finish the sentence — and stag- gered back against the wall, as if about to faint. •'•' Good heavens !"' I exclaimed, more than half- anticipating the dreadful truth : '•' what is it ? Our dear master " " Murdered, Joseph — murdered ! barbarously murdered V I sank upon a chair as if annihilated. At first I could not even weep, nor give iitterance to a word: I seemed petrified as to all vital power; and yet with a horrible sense of anguish burning within, — just as if I were converted into marble, but yet preserving the facilities of mind Avith a frightful vividness. Edward, recovering himself, darted wildly away, scarcely knowing (as he sub- sequently said) what he was doing, but thinking that nevertheless there was something to be done. I know not exactly how long I remained in that extraordinary state of physical numbness and men- tal keenness — nor how I got down stairs to the storey below, — whether I walked slowly or rushed precipitately : but I foimd myself amidst a throng of horrified domestics on the landing whence Mr. Delmar's chamber and likewise that of Miss Edith opened. That shriek — that piercing, pene- trating, rending shriek, which reached my ears — had thrilled from the hps of the poor young lady when the awful catastrophe burst upon her. But let me explain how the atrocious deed first became known. It appeared that some of the servants, who were the first to descend that morning, about half-past sil o'clock, were surprised and alarmed at finding the shutter of one of the lower back windows open, and two of the iron bars belonging to that window wrenched away. It was clear that a burglary had been efi'ected. The butler's pantry was immedi- ately flown to: the door was broken open, and whatsoever plate had been left there was carried off. The bulk of the plate, however, was invaria- bly taken up-stairs at night, and only a sufficiency left out for the family use. »A farther search showed how the burglarious murderers had effected their departure, — the gate at the servants' entrance having been burst open from the inside ,•• so that the presumption was they had in the first instance scaled the wall to accomplish their entry, but had subsequently availed themselves of the easier me- thod of the gate to issue forth when their work of plunder and assassination was completed. The ser- vants who discovered these evidences, supposed that the crime had been limited to mere robbery ; I and Edward hastened up-stairs to inform his mas- ter of what had taken place. He knocked at the door — ^but no answer was returned : he knocked 1 again — and, still as no reply was given, some dread- I fill suspicion flashed to his mind amidst his already excited thoughts. For Mr. Dehnar was habitually I an early riser ; and even if he were sleeping later j than usual on this particular morning, Edward had never before known him so difficult to awaken. He accordingly entered the room, — when a ghastly spectacle burst upon his appalled and horrified view. His unfortunate master lay stretched in the j bed, with his throat cut from ear to ear, — the ; sheets and the pillows saturated with blood. Eush- ' ing wildly from the room, Edward's looks indi- I cated something dreadful to those who had fol- ' lowed him up to the landing ; and before a word issued from his lips, the truth was suspected. In I a few moments it was but too fully confirmed, as ' some of the servants made their way into the i chamber, to which the horror-stricken Edward pointed with excited significancy. At that instant 1 iliss Edith, hearing the noise and confusion on I the landing, issued from her own room ; and when [ the terrific tragedy burst upon her knowledge, the I anguish of her soul thrilled forth in that rending I shriek which I had heard and which had pierced : my bram. She was borne back to her chamber in a state of hysterical frenzy; and the reader may imagine the amount of mingled confusion, horror, grief, and dismay which prevailed throughout the household. "When our feelings were somewhat composed, — or rather, when the fijst paroxysm of scarcely de- Bcribable emotions had a little subsided, — the tra- gedy began to be spoken of in low shuddering ; whispers amongst the domestics. For some time however — at least an hour — I was so overwhelmed with grief and dismay at the barbarous murder of i my kind benefactor, that I was incapable of deli- berate reflection. My mind alternated between I intervals of stupefaction and fits of inconsolable ' grief. At length, as I heard the servants convers- i ing around me, I mentioned the circumstance of i seeing the two persons near the gate on the pre- ceding evening — and likewise that of hearing in the night the sound of the gate closing. Edward I corroborated the fact of my having mentioned to I Viim the incident of the two men : but when I was now asked — and indeed earnestly pressed, to reflect ' well whether I could give anything like a definite ' description of those persons, I assured my fellow- [ servants that so far from being ena'oled to do so, I JuSEPil WlLilOI ; OE, TUB MLMOIKS OK A MAN-SZItVANr. 25 wfl"! not even certain at the tiino thai i( was aiiglit more than imagination on my part. Immediately after the discovevy of the murder, summonses were despatched for the nearest medical man to attend upon the bereaved Edith; and a messenger was likewise sent off to the Mulgraves in Grosvenor Square. The surgeon came ; and on viewing the corjise of Mr. Delmar, he pronounced his opinion that death must have been instan- taneous, so effect\ially was the murderous gash inflicted — and that the imfortunate gentleman had been dead some hours. In the coiu'se of the fore- noon Mr. and Mi-s. Mulgrave arrived at the Manor ; and the elder sister fell into a swoon the moment she entered the house of mourning. In- stead, therefore, of being immediately enabled to minister unto the unhappy Edith, she herself re- quired every attention. I learnt from Edward that Mr. Mulo-rave appeared dreadfully shocked — and that when he repaired to the chamber where his deceased faiher-ia-law lay, he buried his face in his handkerchief and sobbed audibly for some i minutes. [ The police, too, made their appearance at the Manor; and a second a.s well as more searching i investigation of the premises was now instituted. It transpired that a bureau in Mr. Delmar's chamber had been broken open, and the content? ', of a cash-box abstracted. From some information which Miss Edith was subsequently enabled to give at the coroner's inquest, it appeared that her father was in the habit of keeping two or three hundred pounds in this box; but what amount there might have been at the time it was broken open, the young kdy coiUd not say. The drawing- room had likewise been entered, and some valuable articles and nick-nacks carried off. The dining- room too had been visited : for the side-board was broken open, doubtless (aa the police suggested) in the hope of discovering the remainder of the 2G JOSEPH WIL:M0T ; OS, THE rilEMOIRS OP A lIA^"-S£nVA^•T. plate. It -n-as uot however there, — the butler himself being in the habit of taking it up to his own chauibei-; and thither no attempt at au entry had been made. From this circumstance the police came to the conclusion that the burgluiy had not been effected -nith the knowledge or con- nivance of any one iuiide the house; as all the domestics knew that the great bulk of the plate was nightly taken charge of by the butler. Be- yond the rooms above mentioned, no other part of the premises appeared to have been forcibly entered : but it was difficult to say v,hithcr the burglars had really penetrated, or to what extent then- researches had been carried, — inasmuch as no traces of foot-marks were discernible on any of the carpets or druggets — a circumstance to be explained by the very natural conjectiu-e that the ralHaus had taken off tlieir boots or shoes on catering the dwelling. It should be added that the weapon with which the unfortunate gentle- man was murdered, could nowhere be found ; and therefore must have been carried away by the a'sassins. The surgeon who examined the corpse, pronoimccd it to have been some excessively sharp instrument — most probably a razor. How that wretched day passed I scr.reely know : for, as airer.d\- stated, my own condition of mind was an alternation between paroxysms of frenzied anguish, and long intervals of blank, dumb, cbead c jnsternation. I do not believe, however— as well as I can recollect — that I once dovoted a thought t ) my own peculiar lot, or selQshly speculated on what would now happen to myself : aU my ideas wore concentrated in grief and horror at the tragic fate of my beloved benefactor. TThen night came, I slept through downright exhaustion and the pvoslr:;tion of all my energies both physical and meptfll ; and when I awoke in the morning, it appeared as if I had passed thi-ough the phases of some hideous dream. In the forenoon the coro- ner's inquest was holden ; and I was called in to be cxamiuerl relative to the two men I had .seen in the neighbourhood of the servants' gale. But I could tax my memory to no greater extent than I had already done when questioned by the domestics : nor as to the hour of the night when I had heard the sound of the gate closing, could I give any more definite response. All the time I v>'as being examined, I was in a state of duU bewilderment ; and when I issued forth from the room where the inquest was held, the scene was so dimly impressed upon ray mind, that I only retained a confused idea of having stood before a numb."r of persons seated round a table, with a few others in the bnekgrouud : but the whole appeared something which I had seen through a mist. Later in the dny I learnt that the verdict of the jury was, '• "\'rilful murder against some person or persons imknown," Several more days passed; and my mind began to regain a certain degree of composiu-e — so that I was led to reflect upon my own position. The llulgraves continued at the Manor, — every one now regarding the deceased's son-in-law as the master. Tlie circiunstances of a terrific tragedy liad tlms thrown me, as it were, into the service of him who had wished to have me : but whether he would protect me against Mr. I.anover's claims, ahoidd any larther assertion ot them be made. I could not possibly conjecture. Miss Dclmar kept her own chamber ; and her maids described her as being completely wversrhelmed and crushed by the weight of the horrible calamity v.hich had rendered her au orphan. Mi-s. IMulgrave, after the first few hours of successive swoons, had mustered a degree of fortitude to which her poor sister appeared utterly unequal ; and in due course she assumed the part of mistress of the Manor, giving direc- tions for the mourning of tlie female domestics, — while her husband did the same by the men- servants, and likewise superintended the arrange- ments for the funeral. As may be supposed, the atrocious deed excited a great sensation in the neighbourhood : a large reward was ofiered by ]Mr. Mulgrave for the discovery and apprehension of the assassins: and I understood that the police were indefatigable in their researches. But no clue could be obtained to the perpetrators of the foul crime. Two days before the funeral took place, anothtr visitor arrived at the Manor on the mournful occasion, and to be present at the last obsequies. This was the Eev. Henry Howard, a nephew cf the late Mrs. Delmar, and consequently a cousin of the two sisters, Mrs. Mulgrave and Edith. He was a young gentleman of about four-and-twenty, and had only just been ordained. I understood that on entering holy orders, he had obtained a small living iu Devonshire ; and the remoteness of his residence had therefore caused the delay iu his arrival at the Manor. He was exceedingly handsome — not above the middle heiglit — slendtr and well made ; and judging by his countenance, as well as by the affiibility of his bearing and the pleasing tones of his voice, he v.as of generous and amiable disposition. Three or four other distant relations of the family also arrived at the house: but of these it is not necessary to enter into any personal description. The funeral took place ; and never shall I forget what a day of gloom it was for us aU. When I beheld the eofhu with its sable pall borne forth to the henrse, it seemed to me — not as if I were part-- iag from the remains of a master whom I had only known for a few weeks — but from the best friend I had in the world, a benefactor who was my only defence against wdiatsoever adversitica might threaten. The funeral was a sumptuous one ; for so Mr. Mulgrave would have it : and thus, oven where Death marshalled his array of sable- clad mourners, did that gentleman infuse tlie spirit of his 0Y\Ti love of pomp, ostentation, and grand display into the solemnity of the scene. But let me hasten and bring this chapter to a conclusion : for it is to terminate with an incident that constituted an important point in my destiny. On returning from the fmieral, the members of the family gathered in llie library to hear the will read, — all except poor Miss Edith, who w-as still confined to her own chamber by severe illness. The party had not been congregated many minutes there — the hearse and the funeral coaches liad scarcely taken their departure — when a hackney- coach rolled up to the front of the mansion. I was in my own room, sitting at the window in a mood of profound m.elaucholy, — when the rumbUng of that vehicle's wheels attracted my notice. I was instantaneously seized wit'u a presentiment that this arrival regai'ded me. If or was I deceived; the tortui-iug suspense which I endured for a few JOSEPH ■WILJIOT ; on, TII3 ISiElIOIUS OF A MAX-^ErvTAIv^T. minutes, was put an end to bj the terri'ole realiza- tion of my worse fears. I was summoned down to the hall ; and there I beheld Mr. Liniover paeiu^' to and fro — his hands behind his back— his humped shoulder protruding, metliought, even more th vn I had noticed on the former occasion — his shape appearing more hideously deformed — his coun- tenance more raaliguanlly ominous. Perhaps this exao-geration of the monstrous u-liness of the man was at the time mere fancy on my part, — arising from the utter loathiiig and the dire apf>re]iension with wliicii I regarded him : but such was the effect bis presence produced upon me. At the same in- stant that I reached the hall by one means of communication, Mr. Mulgrave was descending the principal staircase; and looking around, he de- manded somewhat angrily, '•' Who is it that wants me ?" "Have I the honovu-, sir, of speaking to the present master of this establishment ?" — and as Mr. Lanover thus addressed Mr. Mulgrave, taking off his hat at the same time, ho darted from beneath his shaggy overhanging brows a quick malignant glance at me as I stopped short at a little distance. " I am Mr. Mulgrave," responded this gentle- man : '■ but whether I have a right to style mys(?If master of the mansion, I know not as yet. The will of my lamented father-in-law is only just now about to be read. If you, as I naturally presume, Lave any claim iipon the estate — — " '•' No, sir — that is not my business here," an- swered the humpback. "Then pray, what do you want?" demanded Mr. Mulgrave, with an air of increased anger and astonishment. "I already thought it was suihciently indecent of you to have me suuimoned away from a family rneeting under such distressing circum- stances : but now your conduct appears more in- delicate still." " I beg your pardon," said Lanover, with a humble demeanoiu" : " but I really thovight the funeral took place yesterday " "Have the goodness, sir, to explain yoiu- busi- ness," exclaimed ilulgrave cm'tly. " It relates, sir," rejoined the humpback, " to this boy here, whom I claim as my nephew." '•' Wliat boy ?" — and Sfr. Mulgrave swept his looks rapidly around. " Do you mean Joseph ?" " Him — and none other," answered Lanover. "Well — if he is your nephew, I suppose you wish to know whether he is to remain in service here? But no decision can be arrived at," added Mr. MiUgrave, " until it is ascertained who has the right to assume the position of master or mis- tress." " You misunderstand me, su"," replied Lanover, with another quick spiteful glance at me. " I mean to take that boy away with me, and provide for him in another and better fashion." " Ah ! that alters the matter," obseiwed Mr. Mulgrave. " Of course you have a right to do what you like with your nephew : but in any case I would cheerfully take him into my own service. I have told him so before — and I repeat the offer aow." "And I accept it, sir — most gratefully do I accept jt !" I exclaimed, now rushing forward in the suddenly excited hope of finding another pro- tector in my deceased one's son-in-law. " No, sir — I beg to decline," said Mr. Lanover, in a peremptory tone. " The boy must come with me. Let him strip off this livery — — " " Nay, ho is doubtless welcome to the liverj'," quickly rejoined ^Ir. Mulgrave: 'fur I believe, from what I heard, that when he first came to the Manor, it was in no very pleasant plight, poor lad, as to apparel. Well, Joseph, you see," he added, turning his looks upon my countenance, " there is no lieljj for it : you must go with your nnele ; and here are a couple of sovereigns as a little pre- sent for you." " Joseph, sir, does not need your bounty," said Mr. Lanover, assuming a haughty air, wliich con- trasted ludicrously with his wretched shape: "for I would have you know that I am as much a gentleman as you are, and able to keei> him as such." '■' At all events," retorted Blr. Mulgrave, '• you need not treat me with this insolence. Under other circumstances I should resent it : but I am at present labouring under the impression of an incident of too painful a character." " For heaven's sake, Mr. Mulgrave," I ex- claimed, a prey to the wildest anguish, " do not abandon me — do not desert mc — do not east me off!" "My poor boy," he answered, Avith compassion in his accents, " what can I do ? It is your uncle who claims you. I wish you well— but I am un- able to assist you fm'ther." With these words he turned away and ascended the stairs : while the horrible humpback, elutchiug mo by the arm, dragged me out of the hall to the hackney-coach, which he forced me to enter. A scream rose up to my rcvy lips : but remembering it was the house of death which I was thus quit- ting, I stifled that expression of my heartfelt anguish; — and without being permitted to bid farev/ell to any of ray fellow-servants, was I borne rapidly away. CHAPTER TIL ANNABEL. I WAS now seated in the hackney-coach next to that man whom at the very first glance I had recoiled from with so deep a loathing, and whom I regarded in the light of a merciless persecutor. I burst into an agony of weeping as the vehicle rolled through the park ; and so blinded was I with my tears, that I observed not, while passing the lodge at the entrance of the encloa»u-e, whether the porter or afly of his family saw me inside that coach. Mr. Lanover said not a word : and for a long time I thought not even of glancing up at his countenance. When the violence of my grief began to subside, and I longed to steal a look at his face — to ascertain if jjossible what treatment I was to expect at his hands — I dared not : I had not the courage. Oh ! how could I ever regard that man as an uncle ? how could I look upon him as a relative ? If he were so, would not the voice of nature have cried up towards him from the depths of my heart, notwithstanding his ugliness ? — should I have thus agonizingly shiunk in horror and aversion from his presence ? But on the other 28 J03EP1I •'.VILMOT; OK, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAy-SI;EVA^'^. hand, how could I reasonablj doubt that he was indeed nearly related to me? wherefore should he burthfn himself with mc if it were other- wise ? The vehicle proceeded in the direction of Lon- don ; and already the northern suburbs were entered ere I could muster up sullicient courage to turn a furtive look upon Mr. Lanover. There did not appear to be anything spiteful in lus coun- tenance now. It was stern, cold, and implacable ■—but displaying no actual malignity. Still he said not a word : he met my look ^\ith his own chilling reptile-like gaze; and I withdrew my eyes, — shuddering from head to foot, and wondering what on earth was to be my destiny now. To be brief, the coach rolled onward; and pre- sently it stopped in Great Eussell Street, Blooms- bury. The houses there are for the moot part of a eufliciently respectable appeai-ance: and it was at the door of one of these that the vehicle halted. Mr. Lauover curtly bade me alight : and the front door was opened by a female servant of middle age, with harsh features, and a som- crabbed look, — so that her very countenance appeared to furnish a continuation of the evil omens which attended every additional step of my acquaintance and connexion with Mr. Liiuovcr. He conducted me into a pai-lour on the ground-floor, whore a ladv-likc but very pale and sickly female, of about iive-and-thirty, was seated. '■Here is Joseph," he said, in his usual hoarse, disagreeable, jarring voice, which was not even now modidated to any tone of kinilness, although it was his wife (as I subsequently learnt) whom he was thus addressing. '' See that you keep a sharp eye upon him — fur he is a slippery young iocr. I am going out on particular business, and wiU send round the tailor to measure him for pro- per clothes." Having thus spoken, !Mr. Lauover waited not for the meek reply which his wife gave in a voice rendered faint alike by indisposition and by terror of her husband : but he abruptly quitted the room. I v.as already prepossessed in favour of Mrs. Lau- over ; for her appearance was well calculated to inspire such confidence. Though pale and faded • — pining away — and looking as if in a consump- tion — she retained the traces of a beauty of no common order ; and there was something so mild and benevolent, so full of a pious resignation in the expression of her countenance, that even amidst my own griefs and troubles I could not help wondering, the very moment I beheld her, how it was such a being could possibly have any cynnexion with the hideous humpback. When we were alone together, she took me by the hand — gazed upon me with an afifeetionite sympathy — aud kissing my cheek, said, " You are as welcome here, Joseph, as it is possible for me to make you." But as she thus spoke, she sighed— doubtless involuntarily: for though she would not distress me in the first few moments of my introduction to the house, she could not help feeling how powerless she herself was to do aught for me beyond \\ hat her husband w illed. She bade me sit down, and began to question me concerning the recent events at Delmar Manor : but when she perceived what pain it caused me to discourse on those topics, aud how the tears gushed forth from my eyes when I spoke of the murdered Mr. Delmar and the charming, amiable, and warm-hearted Edith, — she hastened to turn to another subject. So she proceeded to interrogate me respecting my earlier reminiscences ; and I was surprised to find how little she knew concerning my antecedents. '• Did you know my parents," I ventured to iuquii-e. '•■ ]!^o, my dear boy," she responded ; '■' 1 was never acquainted with any members of my hus- band's family." By this remark I found that it was indeed the humpback's wife with whom I was conversing, and as I had of course surmised her to be. Again therefore did the wondering — I may almost say ■wildering thought, occm* to me, how it was pos- sible that this interesting, lady -like, weU-mauuercd woman could possibly have been led to link her fate ^^•ith the most revolting lump of deformity that ever constituted a hideous caricature of the human shape ? I think that by the manner in which I gazed upon her, she must have suspjcted what A\ as passing in my mind : for the colour sud- denly mantled upon her cheeks a moment before so devoid of vital hue — and a tear started forth upon the lashes of each mUd blue eye. Light footsteps were at this instant heard descending tha stau's: she hastily wiped away (hose crystal drops; and as the door opened, she said, " Joseph, t iiis is my daughter— your cousin Annabel.'' I rose to greet the relative who was thus intro- duced : but 1 was suddenly stricken as it were with wondering amazement at tlic i)resencc of a being >\ho appeared to mc nothing short of a bright and beautiful vision. Annabel was about my own ago — namely, fifteen : just at that in- teresting period for one of her sex when beauty is in its fu-st virginal blossom. I had seen prints depicting the loveliest of females — in books I had read descriptions of feminine charms such as poets and novelists delight to give — but never aught in female shape which had thus been suggested to my mind, approached the ravishingly angelic creature that now stood before mc. She seemed lovely beyond the possible loveliness of the ro- mancist's happiest creation, or the poet's most worshipped ideal. Her comitenauce was one in which girlish simpUeity was beginning to blend with a more thoughtfid and serene expression: and over all there was a certain air of pensiveness — either the result of sorrows of her own ex- perience, or else caught by reflection from a be- loved mother's features. Nothing covUd exceed the softness of the large azure eyes; while myriads of ringlets of a golden hue waved around the cxqmsitely-shaped head. Her forehead was high and open : the softly rounded chin completed the perfect oval of the face. Her complexion was of the purest white, — not the white which finds comparison with the cold and- death-like paleness of marble ; but that clear living white whose colourless transparency constitutes its dehcaey, and is relieved from an appearance of insipid sickliness by a healthful animation which rests upon it as the bloom upon the lily. The carnation wet \nth dew, would afford but a poor simile for the vivid carmine and moist freshness of her classically cut lips ; and when these parted, they disclosed teeth ■ which, for want of a better similitude, we must ! liken to two rows of pearls. Then her shape,— it JOSEPH WILMOT ; OR, THE MEIIOIRS OF A MAy-SEKTAXT. 39 ■was Ciiastcly delicate in its tap?r alcnderness, as that of a young gii-l of her age should be : but vet its fairy lightness and sylphid symmetry denoted the incipient expansion of charms budding towards the contours of womanhood. Thus the gentle un- dulations of the bust were defined by the neatly fitting dress ; and nothing could exceed the ad- mirable slope of her shoulders. She was tall for her age — upright as a dart — with a lithe willowy elasticity of figure properly belonging to gii-lhood, and yet fully consistent with mingled elegance and grace. I could dwell thi'oughout whole pages upon the lovely portrait of this sweet angelic creature as she first broke like a hearenly vision upon my view ; and young though I was, I felt ravished — bewil- dered — amazed! Even then I experienced the etherealizing influence of Annabel's beauty. ^y:ound her appeared to hover as it were a halo of chastity : her presence exhaled the perfimie of innocence : the spirit of girlish artlessncss, female generosity, and all endearing qualities, appeared to shine as it were through her. The innocence of her age, the ingenuous candour of her disposition, and the warmth of feeling of which her generous heart was susceptible, were all expressed in the limpid aziu'e of those large eyes, which, swimming in their clear \\hites, were fringed with dark brown lashes. And these lashes, as well as the arching brows, formed an agreeable contrast with the golden hues of her lustrous and luxuriant hair. I must not omit to add that her head was as gracefully poised on the delicate, slender, and flexible neck as a tulip on its graceful stalk ; or that her hands were small even to a fault, •n-ith the fingers long and tapering, and croTiued by pellucid nails, almond-shaped and rose-tinted : while her feet and ankles afforded no exception to the exc[uisite symmetry oi" aU her other proportions. Let the reader pardon me if I have dwelt thus long upon this charming portraiture — the most charming amongst the many to be introduced in my singularly varied and eventful narrative. Perhaijs I did not fully comprehend all the matchless per- fections of this fairy creature during the first few minutes that I beheld her — nor even during the first few weeks of oiu* acquaintance : perhaps I was too young and too inexperienced to have such impressions made upon me. But in after years has my memory travelled back — and even while writing now, do my recollections thus retrace the vista of intervening time, and settle upon that precise day — that hoiu* — those minutes, when Annabel and I first stood in each other's presence; and I know — I feel — I remember there arose within me the presentiment that this angelic crea- ture was to exercise no ordinary influence over my future destiny. I stood. I say, bewildered and amazed in the presence of that lovely vision. I was incredulous as to its reality : I could not bring myself to be- hove that it was otherwise than an angel-shape, permitted to appear to me, with its sweet coun- tenance iu which girlish bimplicity, high intelli- gence, and soft peusiveness were all blended with an irresistible power of fascination. I was awakened froiu my sort of half-dream by Mrs. Lanover speaking, as she said, '• Annabel, this !.« yoiu" cousin Joseph, whom your father led you to expect." My cousin .' Oh 1 how deUghtful to call this lovely girl by such an endearing name ! She ad- vanced towards me ; and as a modest bashfulnoss tinged her cheeks with the dehcate hue of the sea- shell pink, she extended her hand, which I at once clasped and pressed with a grateful fervour at being allowed to call her "■ cousia." But scarcely had this introduction taken place, when the ill- favoured servant-woman entered to announce that a tailor had come to measure me. The man was shown into the room — his business was speedily despatched^ie departed — and I was again alone with those two whom I was told to regard as my relations. Ah ! now I was scarcely sorry to bo compelled to look upon Mr. Lanover as my uncle, — since by so doing I had found such an aunt and such a cousin ! He need not have told his wife that I was "'a slippery fellow," by which he doubt- less meant that I should endeavo'or to run away unless carefully looked after : for I had not been an hour iu the society of his wife and daughter, ere I had learnt to love them thoroughly. But again and agaiu did I marvel to myself that such a man could be so closely connected with two beings as unUke himself as the fairest and serenest chme diifers from the horrid regions of hyperborean ice. I found that Annabel was, as her looks de- noted, of the kindest disposition and most amiable character — without the slightest particle of affecta- tion iu her manners — and as thoroughly iucapablo of guile as an infant of Jjeing agitated by the stormy passions of grown-up man. .She was evi- dently much attached — indeed devotedly so, to her mother, who, as I learnt in due course, was iu a decline. But Annabel was ignorant of the real nature of her beloved parent's disease : she appre- hended not that it must inevitably be soon closed in death. She only knew that Mrs. Lanover was very unwell — that she had long been ailing : but she hoped that this cherished and adored mother would eventually be restored to health. She minis- tered to her parent in the most affectionate man- ner, sho'niag her all those little thousand and one attentions which are so many evidences of real genuuie love, and which conduce so materially to the solace of the invalid. The mother, too, adored Annabel. And well she might I — not merely be- cause in her she possessed the loveliest of beings and the tendcrest of daughters— but because cir- cumstances had rendered their love so mu- tually indispensable. For here— before entering into miuuter details respecting my first expe- riences in Mr. Lanover's house — I may at once de- scribe what I suspected from the first, but what I only had confirmed in the course of a few weeks. This was that the wretched humpback was the most remorseless of tyrants, — sometimes giving way to outbiu'sts of terrific passion — at other times de- porting himself with a brutal suUenness for days I together — and then allowing an interval of calm to j ensue ere the exhibition of some other phase of his varied and diabolic temper. But what w as Mr. Lanover ? of what profes- sion r what avocation did he follow ? whence did he derive his iucome ? He had represented him- self to Mr. Delmar as a gentleman living upon his means. He had a back room fitted up as an ollicc, where he sometimes received visitors on business — ■nhere he ofteu sat writmg for hours together — and also where he shut himself up for whole days JOSEPH TTTOrOI on, TTTE MEMOIRS o:F A ma:>'-«:t:t;va'!<;t. when in ouc of his sullen moods, appearing onlv in the parlour to take his meals. Sometimes, too. he was out a great deal both day and nijht. — always "on business" — ^but what its nature wns, he never said. There appeared to be no lack of peeunira-y means : he was evidently fond of good living, and the tabic was well supplied. The house was tole- rably well furnished; and two female servants were kept. No duns knocked at the door : no creditor ever asked twice for his money ; and Mr. Lanover did not stint his wife and daughter of any neces- saries. But still he was a tyrant in his whole conduct : his will was a law from which there was no appeal : nothing could bo done -n-ithout his sanction ; — and hence the evident misgiving which his wife had expressed on my arrival as to the amount of welcome I shoidd experience beneath that roof. But I must now return to the first day of my transfei'cnce from Delmar 3Ianor to Mr. Lanover's house. I sat conversing with my aunt and cousin — for so I was dcsu-ed to call them — until four o'clock (it being about two when I arrived) : and tlicn the humpback came in to dinner. He spoke but little ; and what he did say was in a harsh cross manner to us all three. When the meal was over, ho bade me follow him into the back room, which was called '"the office :" and making me sit down opposite to him, he eyed me for some time with a sort of sardonic satisfaction, as if in malig- nant triumph at havinffc-got mo into his clutches at last. But I was so pleased with the society of his wife and daughter, that I felt I could endure much on the part of -kfr. Lanover. " Well," he said, with a sort of inward chuckle, " and so you are beneath your uncle's roof in the long run. Don't you think you played the game of a most ungrateful scapegrace when I first offered to take charge of you ? But let me teU you this — that if you shov» any of your fine spirit here, I wiU take a leather strap and thrash it out of you, even though I cut your heart out at the same time." There was something so diabolically horrible in tlicse last words, that I shuddered visibly. " Ah ! I have touched you, have I r" exclaimed the humpback, with another and louder laugh, which jarred horribly upon my ears. '•' Take care you don't compel me to put my threat into execu- tion. I know what you are — a scampish young fellow, fond of running atvay from people. But don't play that trick with me — or you will get the worst of it. You must never stir out of this house unless ^rith my permission. I shall studv your disposition well for a while; and then I shall see what I am to make of yoii : for of course you inust look out for some profession or calling to earn your own bread in due time." " I can assiu-e you, Mr. Lanover " " Don't Mr. Lanover me !" he interjected with a fierce look. '■' Call me vncle." " "Well, imcle," I said, " I was going to observe that you may depend upon it I shall be only too delighted to have an opportimity of earning my own livelihood." '•'Thii is mere cant — humbug and nonrense!" he exclaimed, with a grin of ineffable scorn and dis- gust. " I am not the man to be deceived by fine speeches. However, the chief and the only thing I wanted to tell you was tins : — that if you take it into your head to run away from me, as you did from ]Mr. Jukes— or if you play the truant for even a single day — I will make you repent it as long as you live. And mind ! when I do have con- fidence enough to let you go out, I will not have you renevi-ing j-our acquaintance with those ser- vants at Delmar Manor. You must not go near the place at your peril will you do so I Ajid what is more, if ever you happen to meet those Mulgraves, you wi'l cross over to the other side, or pass them by, as if you never saw them before in your life. I -will not have you cringing and hum- bling yourself by touching your hat as if you wore still a page in menial service : and as they have only known you in f/iat capacity, they will not recognise you m any other. Therefore, the best course is for you not to take any notice of them at aU. Do you understand? — and what is more, do you mean to obey ? Come, speak qiuck — and speak truly! Speak, I say, Joseph — speak!" Mr. Lanover assumed such a fierce look, and appeared so very threatening as he fixed his half- weasel, half snake-like eyes upon me, with a cold vibrating glare, that I felt frightened ; and I readily promised to fulfil his injunctions in all things. There the interview ended; and I re- turned to his wife and daughter in the front par- lour. They did not question me as to what Mi. Lanover had been saj-ing — they doubtless feared to do so ; and I did not tell them of my own accord. iV few days afterwards my new clothes came home ; and Mr. Lanover, having bade me pack up the page's livery, ordered me to address it in mj own handwriting to the Hon. Augustus MuJgrave, Delmar Manor, JSrJjeld Road, Middlesex. He then sent the parcel by liis servant to some car- rier's office, to be delivered at its destination. '•■ You see," he said, '•' that I -will not let you remain imder the slightest obligation to these Mulgraves; and this is the way to treat them. He told me not to have any of my insolence, did her" — and then the hiimpback chuckled in his harshest and most disagreeably jarring tones. I had been a week inside the house without setting foot over the threshold, and only taking a little exercise in a small yard at the back. Mr. Lanover now told me that he thought I had got '•' sufficiently domesticated " to be trusted out a little ; and he bade me accompany him for a walk. We issued forth together, proceeding towards the West End. He called at three or four houses of good appearance, — desiring me on each occasion to wait for him in the street, and not to go far away from the range of view commanded by the front windows, as he should have his eye upon me. For several consecutive days he j^m'sucd the same course towards me ; and then, again ob- serving that I was sufficiently obedient and tract- able, he told me I might walk out for an hour or tv\-o by myself. Thus another week passed ; and finding that I always came back, he again ex- pressed his approval, and bade me take my cousin Annabel on a shopping expedition. This I gladly did; and from that day forth I erjoyed com- parative liberty, — Mr. Lanover appearing to feel that I had been put to a sufficient test, and that I had no inclination to run away. JVevertheless, he occasionally repeated his warnings against any ^^leftTOur of the kind, — accompanying them with JOSEPLT \Vii.MOT; Oil, TRE MEMOIRS OF A MAX-SEUVANT. 31 tiireats as diabolical as tkat wiiicli liad so shocked and alarmuil ino on the first evening of my ivsi- dcHCC at Lis koiiso. CHAPTEE VIII. son now AND SXKIFE. One day — about six weeks after my introdaction to Mr. Laaover's residence — ^Annabel and I were seated alone together in tlie parlour. Mrs. Lan- ovcr, being much indisposed, was confined to her own chamber ; and as Annabel had been sitting vdth her for several hours, the kind and affectionate mother had desired her attentive daughter to descend to the parlour for at least a little while, so as to have a change of scene from the sick-room. 2ilr. Lanover was occupied in his oflice, which has been before described as the back room on the ground-door, and therefore behind the parlour where Annabel and I were seated. The young girl first of aU took up her work : but I saw that she was in no mood to devole her- self to it. She was uuhajipy — very unhappy, though she essayed as much as possible to conceal her feelings ; and when I addressed her, she en- deavoured to give smiling answers. But they were sickly smiles ; and it was a sad, sad tiling to behold such an expression come over the countenance of one so young, and so ingenuously, chastely, delicately beautiful. I conjectured but too v/oll that she was sorrowing on her mother's account : I did not therefore like to allude to the subject ; and the conversation di'Ooped, imtil it ceased altogether. She bent that sweet face of her's over the work, which she however frequently laid down ; and as I gazed upon her, I thought to myself that if I were rich and my own master, it w^puld be the happiest moment of my life to place Annabel and her mother in complete independence of a man Vv'ho was a brutal husband and a harsh, stern father. I remember that my young heart swelled almost to bui'sting, and the suffocating feelings came up into my very throat, as I coutemjilated that chariQ- ing girl, and reflected that she was unhappy. Presently I beheld two large tears trickling slowly down her alabaster cheeks, and she appearing to be altogether unconscious that the emotions which were agitating in her soul were tlius finding a vent. I could endiu-e it no longer ; but falling on my knees at her feet, I seized one of her hands; and while my own feelings burst forth in passionate 6obs, I said, " O Annabel— dear Annabel, do not weep ! It goes to my very heart to see you thus unhappy!" Never shall I forget the look of mingled astonish- ment, gratitude, and pure sisterly love which Lan- over's daughter fixed upon me as I gazed up into her countenance. She did not immediately speak : her young bosom was swelling with ineffable emotions ; and then the tears gushed fortli from her eyes, tracing their pearly path over the cheeks to which her varied and excited emotions conjured \ip a gentle flush. '• Do not weep for me, Joseph," she said, per- ceiving that my tears were flowing also ; and the tones of her fluid voice, though tremulou^^B.d broken, as well as soft and low, were clear u^^ud sound of purest silver : '■ do not weep for me ! ZS"o amount of sorrow can amend my position ; and it distresses ma to see that you are likowisa un- happy.' ' " Unhappy, Annabel !" I exclaimed : '• how can I be otherwise when I see you weeping thus r" " Sit do«^n again, Joseph," she ansv/erctl, sud- denly wiping away her tears, and indicating the chair from which I had sunk upon my knees : then, with a manner of most melancholy serious- ness, and a singularly touching pathos in her tone and looks, she went on to say, '• You see, Joseph, how ill my poor mother is : or perhaps you do not see it with the same amount of apprehension that I do. But she is ill — very ill ; and I begin to think that there is something more in this long indisposition of hcr's than I had hitherto imagined. For three or four weeks past these misgivings have been gradually creeping into my mind ; and now they haunt me like spectres. You know not, Joseph, how I love that dear mother of mine. She has ever been so good and affectionate to- wards me ; and if anything should happen " But here Annabel stopped short; and her grief burst forth anew. Nevertheless she essayed to stifle and subdue it as much as possible, — while her sweet azure eyes were flung in tre;nb;ing apprehension tovrards the door; and I understood but too well wherefore. She feared lest her sobs and the sounds of weepuig should reach the ears of her father : for it v.-as a great crime in his estimation to give way to an extreme of feeling of any kind. Indeed, I believe that whether Anna- bel's silver laugh had pealed merrily tlu'ough the house — or whctlior her voice sent forth the bit- terest lamentations— it woiud have been equally sure to arouse his ill-humoiu* and provoke tho coarsest upbr.aidings on his part. " Annalicl — dear Annabel, do not go on tluis I" I said. " Y^'our mother is not dangerously ill : sho is weak and feeble — and a few days' repose in her own chamber will restore her to health." Annabel shook her head mournfally; and again conquering her emotions, she said in a whispering voice, '■' You knov,', Joseph, that you only tell me this to cheer me ; but that you yourself think a3 I do in respect to my poor mother's illness. Oh ! for the last few weeks I have given way to reflec- tions which seem to have opened my mind t(j tho better comprehending of many things, and to the widening of my experiences. It is a di'eadful thing for a daughter to be eouipoUed to speak thus of a father," she went on to observe, in the lowest whisper, and with another tremliliug glance tov.ards the door ; '" but it is the truth — it is the truth ! — his conduct is killing my poor mother by inches ! Vv'hen we were poor and we have been very, very poor, Joseph Oh ! we have known such poverty, I shudd-cr when I look back upon it my j)oor mother toiled all day, and half the night likewise, with her needle to support us. She was always ailing and sickly, ever since I can remember ; and that close application to her work injured her health more seriously stiU. Does she not, therefore, deserve kinder treatment ? Oh! she has been a good wife and a good mother : and should she be called houco, what will Ijceomc of me, Joseph? — what will become of me.'"'' Poor Annabel literally wrung her hands as sha thus spoke ; and it was shocking indeed to behold that fair j'oung creature of fifteen thus speaking with the woe-experiences of a woman's mind — thus giving way likewise to an almost frenzied state of afliietion. I said all I could to comfort and console her: I felt that I loved her dearly — Oh I so dearly, I would have caught her in my arms and strained lier to my breast as if she were a sister. '• But I must nqt make you as unhappy as myself," she suddenly observed : and again exer- cising the strongest power over her feelings, she grew calm. '• Let us talk for a few minutes, Joseph, upon something else, before I go up-stairs to my dear mother again. "NVlien you have been walking out, have you never happened to meet any one whom you knew at Delraar Manor ?" — and I saw that she put this question, not with any particular motive, but merely for the purpose of giving the conversation a sudden turn. " No — never,'" I answered. '■' And will they not think," she continued, '•'that it is unkind on your part never to call and inquire after the health of the fiimily ? Have you not told me how good Miss Edith was towards you — ^how both Mr. and Mrs. Mulgrave expe- rienced such sympathy in your liehalf — and how all the domestics were so kind r' '•'It is all true, Annabel." I answered: "but I dare not do that which my heart prompts. I long to know how poor Miss Edith is "' '•'And you dare not go thither and inquire r"' interrupted Annabel, gazing upon me in amaze- ment. "Or is the distance— '" *•■ Distance ? Oh no 1" I exclai'nod. •• Were it ten times as great, I would cheerfidly proceed on foot to testify my gratitude for the kinfbie=s I ex- perienced at Delraar Manor :" — then lowering my voice to a cautious whisper, I added, '■ ^ly uncle — yo'ar father — has forbidden me to go near that house, or even to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Mulgrave, ehoiild I happen to meet them." Again did Annabel gaze upon me with amaze- ment : but she saw by my look that I was indeed speaking nothing but the truth. '■' Poor Miss Delmar !"' she said, in a compassion- ating tone, touchingly soft and meltingly pathetic : " from all yoTi have told me of that young lady, I feel deeply interested in her. Perhaps she may not have siu-vived the dreadful shock : but if she have, I sincerely wish her as much happiness as imder circumstances she may possibly know in this world." '•' So far as wealth can contribute to the fulfd- ment of your amiable \\-ish,'" I answered, '"she possesses that element of worldly felicity : for I happen to know that Mr. Delmar left his pro- perty in equal shares between his two daugh- ters "' At this moment the door opened with such abruptness — almost indeed with violence — that both Ajinabel and I started from our seats. Mr. Lanover entered the room ; and the aspect of his countenance was but little calculated to tranquillize our alarms. I cannot describe the horrid look that he wore at the moment : his face was very pale — he seemed as if he himself had been frightened — or else that he was a prey to a convulsing rage, to which however he did not immediately give vent. He stood for a few moments gazing upon me with that dreadful look of his, — so that I shuddered and I became cold to the innermost conOues of my being. "Go up to yoiu* mother!" he suddenly exclaimed in his harshest voice, and turnhig his diaboHc look upon his angelic daughter : "go up to your mother, I say— and don't be gossipping here ! Be off — quick — c>bey me !" — and the wretched humpback stamped his foot with rage. Annabel had only paused to gather up her work : but her hands trembled so that she let it fall twice; and this trilling delay of a few brief instants appeared to goad her imnatural father to very madness. She hiuried out of the room ; and Mr. Lanover banged the door violently behind her. '■ And so you have been complaining — have you —to my daughter, that I won't let you go to the Manor ?" — and as he thus spoke he walked straight up to me with a reptile-glare vibrating in Jiis deep-set eyes, "^^ow don't attempt to deny it : I overheard everything that has passed between Annabel and you. The minx — the hussy — the little wretch — she dared to talk of domestic matters and to upbraid mo behind my back ! But I will serve her out for it — that I will I" and the hump- back's hideous countenance expressed a malignity truly fiend-like. I shrank back so terriliod tliat I fit as if he were about to murder me. " Yes — I overheard all the whimpering, and crying, and the nonsense that has been going on," he continued. " But no matter. I shall know what to do. Killing her by inches indeed !" — and the humpback gave vent to tli.it low, jarring, sar- donically chuckling laugh which was so terrible to hear : but all of a sudden ceasing that hideous sound, and assuming a serious expression of coun- tenance, he said in a milder manner, " What was it that you were telling Annabel at the moment I entered ? How did you know anything about the way in which ^Ir. Delmar left his property ? Xot that it matters to me : but I don"t choose you to go chattering about other peoplc"s concerns. Come — speak out — don't stand hesitating there ! How did you know, I say, that Mr. Delmar made any such disposal of liis property ?"' "■ I do know, vmcle," was my answer, " that the unfortimate gentleman made his will in favour of his two daughters equally." '•' Well, but Jiotc did you know it ?"' demanded the humpback : " for I don't suppose that Mr. Delmar was likely to make a confidant of a boy like you — and that boy his page too at the time ! Come, speak out 1" I saw that a tempest of rage was on the point of bursting forth again : for the humpback had stamped his foot as he spoke ; — and therefore, in order to avert the menaced storm, I candidly ex- plained how I had been rendered an unwilling hearer of the conversation which took place be- tween Mr. Delmar and Mr. Mulgrave when I was engaged in the museum. The humpback listened without interrupting me ; and when I had done speaking, he appeared to reflect for a few moments : then he suddenly exclaimed, "And don't you think you were a pretty sneaking pitiful scoimdrel to stay in that place and overhear a private conversa- tion between your master and his son-in-law ?"' " I have already explained to you, uncle," was sponse, '-how I became an imwilling li'S- JOSEPH AVILMOT ; OH, THE MEM01E3 OF A MAy-SEliVA:ST. 33 " Stuff and nonsense ! " lie ejaculated fiercely. ••But I won't have a nephew of mine confess that he was guilty of any such dirty paltry meanness. So take care how I catch you talking again upon the subject. Mind, I say ! — never let anything in connexion with that dishonourable conduct of your's pass your lips any more — or by all the powers of Satan, I'll cut the very heart out of you I" The humpback shook his fist in my face as he thus spoke ; and notwithstanding that he appeared a perfect monster of hideousness at the moment, — notwithstanding, too, that his countenance ex- pressed all the darkest passions of the soul with such diabolic intensity as to be but too well calcu- lated to make even a grown-up and strong man a&aid, — I felt arising within me certain feeUngs \rtiich towards him 1 had not experienced before. The spectacle of his lovely, amiable, ingenuous daughter's recent affliction, bo closely followed by his brutal and unmanly severity towards her, was vividly uppermost in my miud j and now that he dared to shake his fist in my face Oh! boy as I was, this aggregate of provocations suddenly aroused within me a certain spirit of rebellion. Perhaps he beheld something in my looks which made him suspect all this : perhaps he saw indig- nant glances flashing from my eyes. But certain it is that he stopped and surveyed me with a sin- gular earnestness — indeed, a scrutinizing penetra- tion, for nearly a minute j and then, muttering something to himself, abruptly quitted the room. It would appear that at this very moment Annabel was descending the stairs to procure something for her mother j and the humpback literally roared out, " Qo up again — go up again, I say! No more of your sneaking tittle-tattl? and your lies to Joseph !" " Father, for heaven's sake do not address me thus," said the sweet voice of Annabel, in a tone 84 JOSEPH WIIMOT; OB, THE MEMOIRS OP A MAN-SEBTANT. earnestly deprecating and full of pathetic en- treaty. " Go up stairs again, I say ! go up stairs !" he vociferated still more furiously. " I am descending to the kitchen," answered Annabel, meekly, " to fetch something for my poor dear mother." " By the powers of Satan, the girl defies me !" thundered forth the humpback: and his words were quickly followed by a blow. " O father, father !" murmured Annabel : and then she burst into tears. He had struck her ! — the wretch had struck that saint-like girl ! The blow not merely smote my ears, but likewise my heart : the spu-it of a tiger was excited within me — I rushed to the door — I tore it open — I sprang upon Lanover at the very instant he was about to deal his daughter another blow — I dashed him to the gi'ound : I had the strength of a thousand at that instant. .Ajmabel threw herself between me and her in- furiate sire, as he sprang up to his feet ; and with passionate entreaties, she besoiight me to be calm and Jiim not to hurt me. The servants came rush- ing up the kitchen stairs ; and Mrs. Lanover, having thrown on a morning-wrapper, hurried down from her own chamber in wild afifright, "Go to your room, sir — go to your room, Joseph, this instant !" vociferated the almost maddened humpback ; and his wordfl were accom- panied with a terrible imprecation. " Yes, go — for heaven's sake go, Joseph !" whispered Annabel, with a look of the most im- ploring entreaty : and her words were echoed by Jlrs. Lanover. Eeaction was already taking place in my own mind: I felt alarmed at what I had done, — and this was uatm-al enough, considering my tender age. But still there was too much of my axoused spu-it remaining to suffer me to proffer a syllable in the form of apology j and in a sort of half- affrighted, half-sullen mood, I begaa to aecead the stairs. Mrs. Lanover, clinging in feebleiiess and terror to the railings, threw upoa me a look full of tender compassion aa I passed : it was evident that she could not be augry with me for what I had done, even though it was her own husband on whom I had inflicted personal chastisement. I glanced back, and beheld Annabel gazing after me in a similar manner. Every shade of suUenness vanished from my soul ; and I burst into tears at the thought that these two amiable beings should be subject to the tyranny of such a ruffian. I ascended to my own bed-chamber ; but not many moments had I been there, when I heard Mr. Lanover's heavy footsteps tramping quickly up the staircase : and locking my door with a violence indicating the furious rage that filled his soul, he drew forth the key. But he spoke not a word. I listened at the door to hear whether he purposed to vent his brutal spite upon his wife or daughter : the spirit of rebellion was again strong within me — and I had the settled resolution of bursting open that door and flying to their assist- ance, at the slightest sound which should seem to fulfil my apprehensions. But all continued silent for upwards of a minute; and then the violent banging of the front-door of the house made me aware that Mr. Lanover had gone forth in a tower- ing passion. CHAPTER IX. FEMALE APPAEEL. It was about two o'clock in the afternoon when T was thus consigned a prisoner to my own chamber. As' for the captivity, I caved nothing about it : nor did I devote much thought in speeidation as to what might possibly be the result of my rebellion against Mr. Lanover's tyranny. Hot feelings were agitating ^-ithin me: I was in a glow of rage and indignation at the treatment which Annabel had received. Her image^so ravishingly ingenuous, so angehcally candid — was before me : methought I beheld her charming azure eyes looking with sweet melancholy into mine — me- thought that her coimtenance, surrounded with its bright hyperion locks, was gazing in melting tenderness upon me. I felt — or at least I fancied that I loved her as if she were a very, very dear sister : I did not then understand that it was a love of another species which had already taken root in my young heart. And, Oh ! to think that this being of such ethereal beauty — that this charming girl, endowed with aU the ingenuous candour of fifteen, shoidd be subjected to the brutal tyranny of a despot fathw — thei"C was something in the reflection that maddened Doe ! So active was my brain — such a whirl of thoughts kept pouring, eddying, and circling in it— that I noticed not how time went by. I was in a state of feverish excitement that I had never known before : I felt that there was something to be done — but what it was I knew not^-and if I did, had no power to execute it. It was most probably some desperate idea of Uberating myself and carry- ing off Annabel and her mother : but my brain was too confused for calm deliberation or the adop- tion of a settled pui'pose. Thus some time paissed away ; and then I heard a gentle tap at the door, and Annabel's sweet voice spake to mo in consoling and encouraging words. I thanked her — I blessed her — I besought her not to endanger her own peace and comfort on my accoimt. She told me that her father had gone out; and she whisperingly added that she must not remain long at my door, as the servants would be sure to mention the incident to their master if they happened to become aware of it. When she had gone, her sweet silvery tones appeared still to be echoing musically in my ears : it was a delicious harmony, as if angel-voices had been whispering to me from the spheres. Every now and then, as often as she dared, did Annabel come back to my door ; and when I heard her light feet approaching and the gentle tap of her fair fingers, my heart thiilled with a sense of dehcious ecstacy. But hours passed on : evening came — and all this while Mr. Lanover remained absent. He had taken the key with him ; and there were no means of con,- veying to me any refreshment. " O Joseph ! are you not very, very hxmgry ?" inquired poor Annabel, in a trembUng voice, at each of the visits which she now paid to the door : but I assured her that even if I had food in the room, I should not touch a morsel— for that I had no appetite : and I spoke truly. The dusk set in ; and I heard the nearest church- elock at length proclaim the hour of ten. Almost JOSEPH WTLMOT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF A ITAN-SEKTANT. 33 immediately afterwards Mr. Lanover's well-kuown imperious knock at the front door reverberated through the house. He was returning ; and now I wondered for the first time during these many hours of my captivity, what could have kept him so long absent. It is true that he was sometimes away from home for an entire day, and even the whole night, — always, as stated in a previous chap- ter, alleging business engagements : but it now occurred to me that his absence on this particular occasion had some especial reference to myself. Not that I however cared much : I was in that state of mind which almost defied the power of a new calamity to excite my feelings more paLnfully than they were already exasperated. I heard the front door close : then five minutes elapsed in silence ; and at the expiration of that interval, the sounds of Mr. Lanover's footsteps ascending the stairs, reached my ears. Those soimds ceased at my door : the key was introduced in the lock — and the humpback, with a caudle in one hand and a plate in the other, made his appearance. '•' Here is something for you to eat," he said, in a voice sternly implacable : and now I noticed that he had a stout stick under his arm. '•' Yes," he added, with a look of malignant significancy ; " I have thought fit to bring with me a ready means of dashing yo\ir brains out, you vile perverse boy, if you dare raise your hand against me once more." " A coward who would strike a poor girl — and that girl his own daughter," I answered, my indig- nant spirit fla min g up within me, " would not stop short at any ruffian-deed." Mr. Lanover had already deposited the plate upon the table : quick as lightning his right hand, which was thus left free, grasped the stout stick — and I was felled to the floor ; while a bitter impre- cation, but low and deeply muttered on Lanover's part, accompanied that savage act. I was not stunned — but for an instant I was almost stupified. Then I thought he meant to murder me ; and this dreadful idea, flashing to my mind, startled me into a wild terror. I was resolved to make a des- perate struggle on behalf of my young life — and was about to precipitate myself on the brutal humpback, when he dealt me another blow which struck me down a second time. I was now tho- roughly dismayed and cowed : my spirit was tamed down in a moment. Quickly as the dread of mvirder had flashed to my mind, did the certainty spring up within me that he did not mean to take my life, but that he was only punishing me ; and I felt the necessity of submission. " " Now," he said, with a horrible grin, " I sup- pose you have had enough of it. Take and eat this food I have brought you." ■ " I do not want it," was my answer, given half in sullenness, half in afiright. " Very well — just as you choose," he responded. " Take off your clothes and get to bed : it's past ten o'clock." I obeyed : for I still smarted under the terrific blows which I had received ; and I dreaded a repe- tition of them. I accordingly laid aside my apparel, and entered the couch. Mr. Lanover proceeded to gather up my clothes : he opened my drawers and took out another suit which I had : even my very boots did he thus possess himself of; and as he was quitting the room with the bundle, he said, " Now, you young rascal, you have no chance of es- cape. You see I am prepared for any of your tricks." The light of the candle flashing upon his coun- tenance, showed that it was expressive of more than his usual malignity, blended vrith an air of fiendish triumph. He issued forth, locking the door behind him, and taking out the key. I was left again a Ciiptive, to the darkness of my chamber and the deep despondency of my thoughts. I could not go to sleep : I lay trembling with vague andimdefiucd apprehensions. Mr. Lanover's con- duct had been so desperately resolute — so re- morselessly brutal — that I felt persuaded there was no punishment his imagination could devise, short of murder, which his fiendish nature would not enable him to iniUct. I heard the neighbouring church-clock strike eleven ; and a few minutes afterwards there was a knock at the front door. Then I heard Mr. Lanover's voice in the ground- floor passage, bawling out these words: — "You need not answer it : I know who it is — some one for me. You can get up to bed, both of you : I will see all safe." These words were evidently addressed to the two servants ; and accordingly I heard them both ascend in a few minutes to the chamber which they occupied on the highest floor, and which was above my own. Then again, for a few minutes, all was silent in the house — save the light tread of footsteps overhead, as the women-servants were retu-ing for the night. But now I heard the door of Annabel's room, which was on the same level as my own, gently open. I listened with sus« peuded breath : for the idea struck me that the circumstance was to some extent connected with myself, from the simple fact that the proceeding was evidently conducted with stealthiness. I dis- tinctly heai'd her fah-y footsteps descend the first few stairs of the flight downward: light though these steps were, yet so keen were all my faculties at the moment, that I coidd have heard a pin drop. But when those sounds were no longer audible, I lay wondering what it coidd all mean. I lay Ustening too: but half-an-hour elapsed without any farther token of what was going on. So strong however was the intuitive conviction that Annabel was up and about the house for some purpose in connexion with myself, that I got out of bed and listened at the door. I had not been many minutes there, when I heard a door on the landing below open and shut gently, — the sound evidencing caution. I knew it to be the door of the chamber which Mrs. Lanover now occupied during her indisposition ; and therefore I at once concluded that Annabel was up merely for the pur- pose of ministering to her mother, and that she crept about thus stealthily for fear of provoking some new outburst of passion and some fresh ebul- htion of violence on the part of her father. I went back to bed, and gradually sank off into a state not exactly of slxunber where all conscious- ness is lost, but iuto a kind of dreamy repose where the intellect loses not entire command over its reflections. Thus I was still experiencing, aa it were, a continuation of the same ideas as before ; when I was aroused by hearing a key turning in the lock of my door. At the same instant the church-clock began striking ; and I knew it must be midnight, though I counted not the strokes,— 36 JOSEPH WrCMOT ; OB, THE MEMOIES OF A MAK-SEnVAlTT. for some one was evidently entering my chamber. I vras seized with a mortal terror : for the thought sprang up vividly in my mind that Lanover was coming to murder me. Such was the consterna- tion which fell upon me, that I had no power to move ; and yet it appeared as if a scream had risen up to my very lips, but that I was not en- abled to make the exertion necessary to give vent to it. The door opened ; and all in an instant my dismay was banished, as the whispering voice of Annabel said, " Joseph, are you awake ?" " Yes," I replied, speaking in a similarly low tone : for I was struck by the conviction that the utmost caution was necessary in the present pro- ceeding, whatsoever it were. " Do not be frightened, Joseph," she went on to say, speaking in a low, rapid, and tremulous whisper ; and I had no difficulty in comprehending that she was striving hard to subdue her own agitation as well as she could. " Do not be fright- ened — and ask no questions : but you must leave the house You must fly, Joseph — you must fly!" " Fly ? good heavens !" I said, in a paroxysm of terror : for a thousand unknown dangers appeared to be suddenly springing up around me. " Hush ! I implore you not to risk and ruin everything by any mad excitement :" — and these were strong terms for the mild and gentle Annabel to use, — smiting me therefore with the fearful importance of attending to her injunction. " But whither am I to go ?" " Go, poor Joseph ? Anywhere — so that you remain not here ! For heaven's sake ask no questions ! delay not ! Oh, I am myself half wild at the cause of all this ! But you must fly — you must hasten away from London ! — the greater the distance, the better. I have money for you " " But my clothes ? Your father has taken them all." " I know it — and I could not get them. Per- haps I risked my very life O heavens, that I should say so ! to obtain the key. You must apparel yourself in female attire There, Joseph, on this chair next to the door is everything you want. Get up and dress yourself: I dare not give you a light^and I shall remain outside the door until you are ready. I conjure you, delay not !" Annabel then quitted the room ; and the door was closed behind her as noiselessly as possible. The reader may imagine far better than I can possibly describe the state of excitement into which I was thrown — an excitement which made me tremble all over with a nervous feeling, in which there was even something hysterical. I got out of bed, and felt for the apparel on the chair. All my limbs quivered : but I knew that some terrific danger must indeed menace me in order to urge the pure-minded Annabel to have recourse to the present proceeding. I therefore gathered all ray fortitude to my aid, and began to do my best to assume the female apparel which she had brought for the purpose. I will not enter into minute par- ticulars on this point : suffice it to say that in about a quarter of an hour I was dressed in that raiment. It was her own that she had lent for the purpose ; and considering the intricacies of such a toilet for one of the male sex, and that it was ac- complished in the dark, I was surprised at my own expertness in mastering its difficxilties in so short a space. It was finished — and I gently opened the door. Annabel took me by the hand, and guided me to the stairs : for the passage was quite dark. Gently — indeed with aerial lightness — did we both de- scend. As we passed the door of her father's room, she pressed my hand with significancy — it was indeed with the spasmodic energy of direst apprehension — to warn me that the slightest in- cautious soimd, such as too heavy a tread — a creaking of a board — a false step — even a breath too deeply drawn, would betray us and ruin every- thing. But we passed on imheard : indeed, nO' spectres ever glided more lightly ; — and the pas- sage of the ground-floor was reached. " Now, Joseph, you stand upon the threshold of safety — and heaven be thanked !" whispered An- nabel, in a voice so low that three yards off it could not have been heard at all : yet so clear was- her musical voice that I lost not a syllable. " Here is a purse — take it — my mother sends it to- you, accompanied by her blessing. It contains not much — but sufiicient to bear you to a great dis- tance hence and the greater the better ! O Joseph, you can judge what my feelings are when I tell you that your life is menaced — and by my own father !" Here Annabel was for a few moments so over- powered by her feelings that she clung to my arm- for support. I clasped her waist, and imprinted a kiss upon her cheek : it was cold as marble ! " Now, Joseph," she said, quickly recovering- herself, " you must depart !" " But you, Annabel — dearest Annabel ?" I whisperingly answered : " to what perils am I leaving you exposed !" — and I was almost dis- tracted at the thought. " Be not uneasy, Joseph, on my account," she rejoiaed : " mi/ life at least wiU not be menaced ! Beware of my father beware also of that man Taddy, who was here this evening. And now go !" " No, no, Annabel — I cannot leave you thus !" I said: "there is madness in the bare thought I Eather would I dare everything " " Joseph, Joseph — I conjure you to depart ! You know not what you are risking by this delay !" "No, Annabel " " Joseph, if my father were to overhear us, he might in the first paroxysm of his rage L shudder at the idea ^you understand me for mj/ sake depart '." " You will have it so, Annabel — and I obey you. O God, that the time may come, dear girl,, when we may meet again !" " Yes, yes, Joseph — we shall meet again : for there is justice in heaven — and you will not always be persecuted thus. And now away !" I caught her once more in my arms : we cm- braced fondly — fervently. She opened the front door in the most noiseless manner possible ; and as the light of the street-lamp beamed upon her countenance, I saw that it was pale as death, and that in each eye there glistened a tear — those twa tears resembling twin-drops of the diamond dew. I would have seized her hand again — but she waved me away : the door closed — and she was lost to my view. JOSEPH ■VriLMOl OB, THE ITEMOIES OF A MAX-SETITAVT. 3" I hastened along the deserted street of mid- night, reckless of the way which I took. Indeed my thoughts were in too wild a state of bewilder- ment for me to deliberate what course I should adopt or which direction I should choose. I looked at myself, and found that I was apparelled in a dark silk dress, with a shawl, a bonnet, gloves, and lady's shoes. Assuredly these last- mentioned articles were not Annabel's : for the shoes that belonged to her delicate feet would not have fitted mine. I therefore concluded they were her mother's. However, not to dwell upon such details, suffice it to say that I was apparelled as a yoimg female ; and there would have been some- thing ludicrous in the adventure, were it not that this raiment had been ass\mied in order to save me from a murderous design. Ah ! and I recol- lected the name of Taddy had been mentioned ; — and that man was an acquaintance — nay, more, an accomplice of Lanover's ! I had hoped that when I parted from him near three months back at the gate of Delmar Park, all connexion be- tween him and me was severed for ever : but here I found his name suddenly blending itself in matters deeply and darkly concerning myself, and mysteriously associated with the progress of my destinies. What coidd it aU mean ? — why, I asked myself, should my own uncle (if such Lanover really were) seek my life ? and wherefore should Taddy be likewise interested in taking it ? Such were my reflections as I hastened through the streets : but I was aroused from them by some ribald words which a half-tipsy rakish-looking gen- tleman addressed to me as he seized my hand ; and breaking away from him, I rushed onward in vague a£fright. I foimd myself in Oxford Street. It was not quite so much deserted as Great Eussell Street : several females were walking leisurely about — several rude and ill-mannered men also : several equipages, too, dashed by with their pranc- ing steeds and their glaring lights. London was not yet asleep with all her Argus-eyes. I continued my way, stiU in utter ignorance of what course I ought to adopt — but feeling im- pressed with the paramount importance of follow- ing Annabel's advice and getting out of the metro- polis as qxuckly as possible. For a moment the idea struck me that I would hire a public vehicle, proceed to Dchnar Manor, and beseech an asylum there : but then I reflected that this would be worse than absurd — it would be absolutely courting danger ; inasmuch as the Manor was so close to London, and Mr. Lanover might possibly suspect that I had fled from his house in order to return amongst my former friends. So I went on, more and more bewildered how to act, — rejecting each scheme as soon as formed, and feeUng the iron of utter friendlessness penetrating into my very soul. I was accosted by more rakish-looking men, old as well as young : I fled from them with a feeling of horror which I did not however rightly understand at the time. There was a veil to my bonnet ; and I drew it down. I turned out of Oxford Street, and found myself in a very large square, the name of which I did not know ; and I thought not of looking up to read it against the corner-houses, although the lamps rendered the place light enough for the purpose. As I was proceeding onward, I suddenly found myself in the midst of a group of insolent young men, one of whom caught hold of mc ; and unth a I cry of terror I broke away from him. They did I not pursue me ; but their boisterous laughter rang j upon my ears until I reached the opposite side of the square ; — and then, through sheer exhaustion, I began to slacken my pace, just as I reached a diverging street, at the corner of which stood a post-chaise with four horses. But at that very instant methought I ngain heard those sounds of laughter coming from be- hind ; and seized with apprehension of farther an- noyance, I hastened towards a footman who was standing close by the door of the post-chaise, for the purpose of beseeching his protection. He im- mediately opened the door, and hurriedly motioned me to enter the vehicle. In my bewilderment, fright, and confusion, I instantaneously compUed, — naturally thinking that he was good-naturedly putting me there for protection agaiast the rude persons whom he might see advancing. The door was quickly closed — the footman sprang upon the box, exclaiming, " All right !" — and the post-chaise darted away at the utmost speed of the four horses attached to it. CHAPTEE X. Ay ADVEXTUEE. I WAS SO astounded at this incident that I was for some minutes at a loss what to do : indeed, I felt as if it were all a dream. I threw up the veil which was over my countenance — looked from both windows to convince myself that I was really and positively awake — and then pressed my hands to my temples to still the throbbing of my brain and settle my ideas. Yes — I was indeed broad awake I It was no dream ; and I found myself seated alone inside that chaise, and being whirled along at a tremendous pace. It was but too evident that some egregious error had occurred, and that I had been taken for some one else : because it was impossible to conceive that this post-chaise-and- four was waiting in readiness for 7ne, or that An- nabel's arrangements for my flight could have gone to this extent. I thrust my head from the window, and called to the footman, who was seated on the box. The rattle of the wheels and the trampling of horses created such a din that I could not hear what he said in reply : but I caught the words "All right," and "nothing to fear;" and I like- wise perceived that he motioned vehemently with his hand, but at the same time in a perfectly re- spectful manner, for me to draw in my head from the window. Again I endeavoured to make him comprehend that some grand mistake must have occ\irred : again I caught the words " All right"— and then he urged the postilions to accelerate their speed. I saiik back in the vehicle in a strangely excited state of mind : and once more I began to suspect that, after all, the post-chaise might really have been intended for me. But if so, why had not Annabel mentioned it ? Moreover, how could she possibly foresee that on leaving Great Eussell Street my wandering steps would lead me in that precise direction where the equipage was waiting ? Xo — it was out of all question ; and therefore I 38 JOSEPH ■VVIIMOT; OE, THE MEM0IE3 OF A MAN-SEEVANT. was again speedily led to the conclusion that the •whole adventure was connected with a mistake which could only be accounted for by the suppo- sition that I was taken for some one else. But now it occurred to me that after aU it might prove a very fortunate incident. I was being borne rapidly out of the metropolis — that metropolis where dangers environed me, and where murder- ous intents might be tracking my footsteps. WUdly, and vividly, and terribly came back to my mind those warnings which Annabel had uttered, — warnings against her own father and the villain Taddy, — and therefore, instead of being grieved at an occurrence which was thus waftiag me away from the scene of such frightful perils, I began to rejoice and to thank heaven for having so mysteriously and wonderfully saved me therefrom. As the sense of increasing security thus grew within me, I thought that it would be nothing less than downright madness to make another attempt to stop the chaise aud give explanations to the footman. No— I would suffer the equipage to carry me as far as it might ; for I reasoned to my- self that whomsoever I should meet at the end of the journey, could not possibly be regarded as more formidable than the vile humpback and the detested Taddy. So I remained quiet inside the vehicle, and fell into a train of reflection in which Annabel's image was uppermost ; and as I reviewed aU that had taken place on this memorable night, I felt that the gratitude of an entire existence was due to that amiable and beauteous creature. The streets of London were now left behiud — the chaise was dashing along a road bordered with villa-residences — these dwellings soon became more and more- straggling — until at length they yielded altogether to hedges and trees. We were now therefore out in the open country ; and the fresh breeze of morning — for it was considerably past one o'clock — farmed my feverish cheeks. A sense of weariaess came over me^an irresistible desire to compose myself to slumber ; and be- ginning to feel that the air was somewhat sharp and cold, but yet not choosing to exclude it alto- gether by dramng up the windows, I merely put down the veU and folded the shawl more closely around me. I was sinking off to sleep when the equipage tm-ued abruptly out of the main road, with such a sweep into a bye-lane that I was startled with the apprehension it was about to upset. So great was the t»Tor thu3 suddenly caused, that I was aroused into complete wakefid- ness again ; and glancing first from one ^'j'indow— then from the other — I perceived a high hedge on either side ; so that the equipage was embowered as it were in the verdure which darkened the view. Along this shady lane it proceeded for about ten minutes — when it entered another mair^ i-oad, and stopped in front of a spacious mansion standing about a hmidred yards back, and with an inter = veniug shrubbery. Of all the numerous windows, Eghts appeared to be burning in only three on the ground-floor ; and as the equipage came to a sudden halt, I likewise observed two gentlemen standing at the iron-gate which was set in the boundary- wall, and which stood open. Now, I thought to myself, the mistake would be dis- covered : and what if, after aU, I should experience some very rough treatment in the paroxysm of rage which disappointment would be so well cal- culated to excite on the part of these individuals ? What, too, if the female whom they were no doubl expecting, and for whom I had been taken, were to be made the object of some dreadful crime- even murder ? — and that this doom might be in- flicted upon me before it was discovered that I was not the right person ? I was suddenly petri- fied with horror — stricken with consternation — as these reflections swept rapidly through my brain. The door of the chaise was quickly opened by one of the two gentlemen; and there was light enough to show me that he was young and hand- some. "You must alight here," he said, in a tone which indicated the resoluteness of a sternly set- tled purpose : at the same time he reached for- ward his arm to aid me in descending from the vehicle. I obeyed mechanically. I strove to speak, if it were but a single word, to clear up the mistake : but I could not. My tongue clave to the roof of my mouth : my faculties were paralyzed with con-" sternation. I descended : the two gentlemen took my arms — and hurried me through the shrubbery- into the mansion. Another footman was standing on the threshold of the front door ; and the in- stant we entered, he closed it. I was now in a large and handsome marble hall — stiU sustained between the two gentlemen, one of whom I have already noticed as young and handsome : the other was an elderly person, some five or sis years on the shady side of fifty. Here I stopped suddenly short: the faculty of speech appeared to be re- turning — and I was about to say something, when the elder of the two gentlemen, whose saUow and wrinkled countenance denoted a stern and rigid decision of purpose, said curtly, " Not a word ! You must submit." The blood froze in my veins : all kinds of horrors sprang up like ghastly spectres before me : I was' smitten with the conviction that murder was in- tended—and I the victim ! A side-door opened ; and I was hurried into a sumptuously furnished dining-room, where a clergyman in canonicals and' an elderly lady were seated. This elderly lady was exceedingly pale ; and I instantaneously read upon her countenance that same air of stern decision which I had already noticed upon the features of the two gentlemen. Wax-lights were burning upon a table in the centre of the room : but they only lighted it dimly — and the remote corners of that spacious apartment were enveloped in obscurity. " Can this be Alicia ?" quickly cried the lady, as if seized with a suspicion of something wrong. " Pardon me — forgive me — for Grod's sake, do me no harm !" I cried, my tongue now completely unlocked ; and I sank down upon my knees in the midst of that group of four by whom I was sur- romided. " Perdition !" ejaculated the yoimger of the two gentlemen. " Whom have we here ?" — and the veU. was snatched up from my face with such sudden violence that the very bonnet was torn ofP my head. "Treachery!" was the instantaneous ejaculation on the part of the elderly gentleman and lady- while the young gentleman stood stupified with amazement ; and the clergyman di-opped fr-om hia hand a book which he had been holding. " It is a boy !" cried the elderly gentleman. JOSEPH VnXMOT ; OB, THE MTjrOITJS OP A MAN-SEEVANT. 39 " What does it all mean F" asked the lady : and indescribable was the confusion which pre- vailed. " It was not my fault ! it was a mistake — an error !" I cried. " I was told to enter the car- liage " " Little fool !" thundered forth the elderly gen- tleman : " what mischief have you done !" — and in a sudden paroxysm of rage, he levelled a terrific blow at my head with his clenched fist : but the lady caught him by the ai-m, and held it back just in time to save me from receiving its full force. "For heaven's sake, Eavenshill, do nothing rash !" she exclaimed. " Let us hear his story." "Yes, my lord — pray be composed," said the clergyman. " Composed !" echoed Lord Eavenshill, — for such appeared to be his title and name : " how can I be composed when all our plans " " Hush, father," intei-posed the yotmger gentle- man, who now appeared to have recovered his self- possession : " let us take my mother's advice and hear this boy's story. Get up, sir," he said, sternly addressing me, as I still knelt in the midst of this excited group ; " and explain what has occurred. But be careful how you deceive us : for you no doubt have svifficient insight into this matter to be aware that it is most serious. Come — speak frankly. Everything depends on the account you tender of yourself." " I repeat," was my answer, tremblingly given, " that I am innocent of any wilful intention to produce mischief." " Your name ? who are you f " demanded Lord Eavenshill imperiously. "Joseph Wilmot," was the response quickly elicited by terror. " I implore " " But who are you ?" again demanded the noble- man, stamping his foot with enraged impatience : " how came you in this female garb .'' By heaven !" he added, turning to his wife and son, " I do be- lieve he is in some trick — and that he was dressed up for the express piu'pose of personating " - " Hush, father ! mention no names !" quickly interposed the son. " But the height and figure — the shape — the appearance when the veil iS down, — all are the same !" said the bewildered nobleman. " It cannot be an accident — a coincidence ! it must have been intentional !" " Do let the boy explain," said Lady Eavens- hill. " Yes — that is the best course," suggested the clergyman. " I do not think he is a party to any trickery : he looks too frightened. Let us hear what he says. Come — speak, my lad ; and do not be afraid. You have nothing to fear, if you tell the truth." While this hurried colloquy was going on, cer- tain rapid reflections swept through my mind. I felt that it would be most unkind-— most ungrate- ful, indeed, towards Annabel and her mother, to expose Mr. Lanover's iniquity : for Iter sake I was hound to spare him. I knew not to what extent I might entangle him with the law, if I were to give a complete explanation of his diabolic in- tentions towards me. Frightened therefore though I was, I nevertheless resolved to dare any amount of savage vengeance that might be inflicted by those with whom I now found myself, rather than reveal matters which, by affecting Lanover, might produce consequences to redound heavily upon the heads of Annabel and her mother. " If your lordship," I said, addressing Eavens- hill, " will listen to me for a few instants, I will explain as much as I can or may." '•'By heaven!" ejaculated the yoimg gentleman, "the explanation shall be most complete and satisfactory — or it will be the worse for you !" "Ilush, Walter," said Lady Eavenshill, in a deprecating manner to her son: "we must let the boy speak." "I solemnly declare," I went on to observe, " that what I have abeady told you, is true. Ask the domestic who was in attendance on the chaise, whether he did not at once compel me to enter when I accosted him." " Ah ! you accosted him P" ejaculated Lord Eavenshill. " But wherefore ?" — and he eyed me with keenest suspicion. " Some rude persons were in pm-suit of me," was my response ; " and I flew to that servant for protection. This is the real truth • the man him- self can corroborate my statement when ho comes to reflect on the mode in which the mistake originated. But what is more," I went on to say, suddenly recollecting something, " I looked out of the window to inform him of the error and bid him stop : but he assured me that it was all right — he would scarcely Usten to me — the chaise rolled on like the wind " " Well," observed the clergyman, " the boy speaks frankly and openly enough ; and his looks corroborate his sincerity. It is clearly a mistake, my lord." " And an accursed one too !" was the noble- man's deeply muttered response. " But this female garb ?" "Eelative thereto," I answered, "I can give your lordship no further explanation than this : — that I was at a place where it became of para- mount necessity to fly But I conjure you not to imagine that I did anything wrong ! On my soul, I did not ! It was no fault of mine : some one had certain reasons for wishing me ill — I can mention no names — I can enter into no details of facts : there are mysterious circumstances con- nected with me which I myself do not rightly imderstand." " I really believe the boy," remarked the clergy- man aside to the others : but I nevertheless caught the words he thus spoke. " Oh, yes !" I exclaimed : " as there is a God above us, I am telling you the truth !" " Well, but what have you been ? what is your station in life ?" demanded Lord Eavenshill. " Tell us something more concerning yom-self^ that we may know what to do with you :" — and then he muttered aside to his wife, " It would never do to turn the boy adrift and let him tell the tale of this adventure to whomsoever he might meet." " No— assui'edly not!" responded her ladyship. " Come, boy — answer his lordship's questions. What have you been ?" " A page in a gentleman's service," I at once replied, not choosing to make any further refer- ence to my sojourning with the Lanovers. "A page — eh?" cried Mr. Walter. "And I presume you are in search of another situation P 40 JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIBS OF A MAX-SEBVAITT. Well," he continued, as I gave an affirmative re- sponse, " we shall see what is to be done for you. Here — come along with me." Thus speaking, he took up a wax-candle ; and I followed him from the room. No one was now in the hall : he led the way up a magnificent stair- case to an ante-chamber communicating with a larger sleeping-room, and between which, as 1 afterwards found, there were double doors ; so that the first and smaller chamber was fitted for the occupation of a page or valet in attendance upon any one using the larger apartment. "Now, boy," said ]VIr. Walter, "you can sleep here to-night — or rather for as much of the night as there is remaining ; and we shall see in due time what is to be done with you. Put a seal upon your lips in respect to the adventure which has brought you hither ; or it will be the worse for you. Mind what I say. There is something in your looks which I rather like ; and I am in- clined to trust you. By the way, you shall have other and more suitable clothing in readiness by the time you will want to get up." With these words the young gentleman de- posited the wax-candle on a table and quitted the room, locking the door behind him. I made haste to put off my female apparel and get to bed. But exhausted though I was alike with fatigue and hunger, I could not compose myself to sleep. The adventures of this night were of so startling a character — they had hurried me along with such a wild excitement — they had succeeded each other with such fabulous rapidity — that they were suf- ficient to work the brain into a fever. More than an hour passed ere I could even settle my thoughts so far as to woo the approach of slumber ; and just as I was beginning to doze I heard the key turning in the lock. The door opened, and Mr. Walter made his appearance. He stopped for an instant by the bed as he passed : but I did not open my eyes ; and he continued his way into the adjacent apartment, — not however again locking the door which communicated with the landing : he doubtless reflected that I could have no induce- ment nor inclination for stealthily running away while the household slept. Perhaps, too, he thought that I was asleep j and in a few minutes I was really wrapped in slumber. I did not awake untU a late hour ; and then I perceived by my bedside a complete suit of page's livery, — which, when I rose and dressed myself, fitted me almost as well as if it had been originally made for me. Scarcely had I finished my toilet, when the Hon. Walter Eavenshill — for such I found were his proper distinctions — ^made his ap- pearance, he being already up and dressed. He surveyed me with some attention for nearly a minute — not so much, methought, to observe how the livery fitted, as to penetrate deeply into my character and disposition through the medium of my countenance. I also had now an opportimity of observing him more at my leisure than dxiring the excitement which followed my first arrival at the mansion. He was not above the middle height, but slender and well made — remarkably handsome-^with an aristocratic profile, a short upper lip curling haughtily, and an oval con- figuration of coxmtenanee. He had dark brown hair, whiskers of a still deeper hue, and well- arched brows. His eyes were of a deep hazel— but not with the softness that iisually is asso- ciated with orbs of this colour : the fire of strong passions shone in those eyes. He was apparently about five-and-twenty years of age ; and I should observe that he had a shghtly dassipated air, but not sufficiently marked to render bim sickly nor to impair his good looks. " I have been thinking," he said, after having completed his scrutinizing survey of my counte- nance, " about all that has taken place — I mean in respect to yourself. You see, Joseph, you have dropped down amongst us as if from the clouds, and under such peculiar circumstances that we don't like to turn you adrift. There is evidently some mystery attached to you : but we will not seek to penetrate into your secret, if you promise to keep ours." "I can assxire you, sir," was my answer, "I have neither any motive nor desire to betray what took place last night. Indeed, as you may sup- pose from what little explanation I was able to give, I am at present &iendles3 in the wide world." " Well, it is not my intention," resumed Mr. Eavenshill, '•' to ask you any more questions. It happens that a few days back one of my father's pages left us suddenly : he was precisely of your height and make — and I see that his apparel fits you well enough. If you choose to take his places you can do so." " May I inquire, sir," I asked, " in what neigh* bourhood this house is situated ?" '•' At no great distance from Eichmond," was the answer. I had studied the map of London and its en^< rons sufficiently to be aware in what direction the neighbourhood just mentioned lay : but still did Annabel's urgent warning suggest the prudence of placing a far greater distance than this between myself and the metropolis. I therefore said, " Pardon me, sir, for venturing to question you, and also for appearing to hesitate: but I have enemies in London For heaven's sake do not eye me suspiciously ! I take Grod to witness that I have never committed a deed of which I am ashamed." " Do not be afraid — I believe you," repUed Mr. Eavenshill j " and if you are afraid of being too near London, you may at once banish that ap« prehension from your mind : because under pre- sent circumstances," — and he spoke with a sud- den access of bitterness,— '"'the family will leave Eavenshill for the seat in Devonshire this very day." He saw my coxmtenance brightening up ; and i taking it for granted that I now considered myself instjkUed in the place which he offered, he told me that I might seek my fellow domestics in the ser- vants' hall as soon as I chose. He then quitted the room ; but I remained behind for a few minutes to reflect upon the altered position of my affairs. And now I bethought myself of that purse which Annabel had placed in my hands on the preceding night, and which I had not as yet looked into. I drew it forth — not for the selfish purpose of seeing how much it contained, but because the idea had struck me that amongst its contents there might possibly be some written injunctions in ad- dition to those which she had given verbally. There were ten sovereigns in the purse, and a JOSEPH WILIIOT ; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SEETANT. 41 eatill scrap of paper. This I liastily cpeiied ; flucl read tlie following lines : — " WTien the excitement of your hurried departure, desir Joseph, shall be over, yon will naturally reflect upon the circumstances attending it. You may even fall into the society of those who will become interested in you (for that you must make friends for yourself, I am sure) ; and they may perhaps press you for detailed explanations. I beseech you to spare my father ! I need say no more. The generosity of your heart is duly comprehended and appreciated both by my afflicted mother a&d by " Your affectionate but unhappy " ANNABEL." I Glied tears over this billet ; and at first vowed that I ■would keep it as a memorial of its beloved ■writer : but a second thought induced me to de- stroy it— for I was afraid lest in the progress of some fresh vicissitudes it might fall into the hands of others. Poor Annabel! I wept bitterly as I rjHtciod tliat if Ler father oute-i'lalaecl tlie sus- picion of liDr complicity in my llight, Le would visit it with the most savage vengeance. I up- braided myself for having been persuaded thus to escape : I fancied that I bad acted a cowardly part in consenting to a course which, while it ensured my own safety, would possibly compromise her. Ob, bow I longed to be with ber again ! Never bad she seemed so dear to me — that beau- tiful ethereal creature — as now that we were sepa- rated. But should I ever see ber more ? Yes ! I remembered ber own words — that there was justice in heaven, and that I should not for ever be pursued by my persecutors. Tbe silver notes of ber voice seemed to Unger in my ear ; and that assurance appeared fraught with tbe inspiration of prophesy. Ah ! and even then, too — young though I was — I solemnly vowed within the depths of my own heart, that Annabel's image should serve as my good genius; and that if ever I were assailed by temptation to stray into the wrong course, the 42 JOSEPH -WILMOT; OE, THE MEMOIES OP A MAN-SERVAXT. memory of that image should keep me back in the right one. I vowed to devote my existence to An- nabel; but that the offerLug should be worthy of her to whom it was made, I felt that this Ufe of mine must be kept pure and uncontaminated ; — for that Annabel herself would continue ever the same in virtuous principle, — no matter how the lapse of long, long years might dim the radiance of her charms, and alter her personal appearance, — I had not a doubt. That morning, as I thus sat reflect- ing in the chamber where I had slept, I invoked Leaven's choicest blessings on thy head, thou an- gelic and charming Annabel ! Before I descended to the servants' hall, I looked forth from the window, and beheld an immense garden and pleasure-grounds at the back of the house, with paddocks and orchards adjoining, "-i-and beyond, an undulating sweep of verdant meadows, where flocks and herds were pasturing. It appeared to be a beautiful spot — as the mansion itself, according to what Uttle I had already seen of it, was spacious and handsome. I looked in the glass to see whether my eyes denoted that I had been weeping : I bathed them again — and then, ■atisfled that all traces of my tears were wiped away, I descended the immense staircase ; and en- covmtering the very identical footman who had brought me in the carriage, was conducted by ijim towards the servants' haU. But suddenly he stopped short ; and clutching me by the arm, said with a half-smile and a sly look, " Of oourse, my lad, you wiU not talk about that little business of last night. It is only known to three o* four of us, and need not go any farther." I readily promised to comply with the man's in- junction — as indeed it ordy enjoined the very course which I myself should have adopted of my own accord. He spoke oiviUy and kindly enough ; and I was thus weU pleased to observe that ho bore me no rancour on account of the error into which he had been led through me during the past night. ■ I found that the domestic establishment of the Eavenshill family was an extensive one : — but the servants were now all in the hurry and bustle of preparations for the family's departure. When breakfast was over, I was informed that the travelling-carriages would soon be in readiness, and that I was wanted by the Hon. Walter Ravenshill to pack up such portions of his own wardrobe as he purposed to take. To be brief, at about eleven o'clock, two equipages started from JRavenshill — one containing his lordship, her ladyship, and Mr. Walter — the other two valets, two lady's-maids, ftnd myself. CHAPTEE XL CHABLTOir HALL. Is one of the most delightful parts of Devonshire —about twenty miles to the south of Exeter — was situated an old manorial residence, bearing the de- nomination of Charlton HaU. This was one of the country-seats belonging to the Ravenshill family ; and it stood in the midst of a vast estate, through which a stream meandered on its crystal way. This property had been in the family for several centuries : from time to time portions of the man- sion had been rebuilt — but on each occasion re- taining some part of the older structure ; and thus the entire edifice combined several varieties of architecture, but without any ridiculous contrasts. The interior presented an old-fashioned aspect im- perceptibly blending with the arrangements and improvements devised by notions of modern luxury and comfort. Thus the immense staircase up which a regiment of soldiers might have defiled, was embellished with fine statues and enormous vases : the spacious drawing-rooms were sumptu- ously furnished, but yet in a style to correspond with the elaborate carvings of the cornices, the huge projecting mantel-pieces, and the arched win- dows. The bed-chambers were so extensive, and in some the windows were so small, that they woxUd have had a gloomy aspect, — -were it not that they were furnished in a Ught and cheerful man- ner. Altogether, the somhre grandeur and massive adornments of by-gone ages were so relieved by the appliances oi modern taste, and were brought to blend so imperceptibly with the artificial ele- gances of the present time, that the impression created by the interior of Charlton Hall was by no means a melancholy oflie. The immense park was intersected from the entrance-lodge to the front of the HaU, by a weU- graveUed cannage-drive, bordered by rows of superb beech-trees; thus forming a charming avenue of at least thi-ee quarters of a mile in length. Being perfectly straight, and gradually widening from, the lodge towards the HaU, it afforded an imposing and graduaUy developing view of the immense mansion, to any one thus approaching the manorial residence for the first time. Clearly and brightiy flowed the stream, at a distance of about a quarter of a mUe on the right hand of the pai-k : there seemed to be life in its crystal waters and spirit in its continuous rapidity, as it hurried on to join the river where- unto it was a tributary. On the aUuvial borders of this stream and of that river, were situated the finest and richest meadows of the vast estate ; and there countless flocks were grazing, and numerous herds of the red cattle of Devonshire browzed upon the emerald pasturage. On the left hand ^ide of the park there was an assemblage of trees aaving the appearance of a perfect forest : but on X near approach, the rich fruitage gemming the boughs, and the regularity with which the trees were planted, enabled the observer to distinguish a weU cared-for orchard from a wildly growing wood. The lands, seen from the windows at the back of the mansion, presented a roUing landscape of unparalleled beauty, — a succession of hiUs and vaUeys extending far as the eye could reach, until closed by some loftier heights in the horizon. The sides of the hUls were clothed with verdant coppices, adding to the beauty of the vaUeys ; and when the entire scene was bathed in the meUow light of the autumnal sun, it was a deUcious picture over which the eye could wander without ever tiring. Lord and Lady RavenshiU had but one son— the Hon. Mr. Walter ; and this was the only issue oi their marriage. The household establishment at Charlton HaU was an extensive one, and was continuously maintained on the same footing, in- asmuch as the fJamUy were wont to pass at least seven or eight months out of every year on this J05F?a -WILMOT; OB, THE IIEMOIES Of A MAW-gERTAUT. 43 estate. There was a fae stud of horses, and four or five carriage-equj j)age3. Indeed, my first im- pressions in respect co the Ravenshill family were that they must be possessed of almost illimitable wealth. I had frneicd that Mr. Delmar's esta- blishment was a ' ery fine one : but it was literally insignificant in '.omparison with the extent of that into the mid.«''« of which circumstances had so singularly th own me. The utmost profusion crowned th« tables in the servants' hall; and every day v e banquetted upon luxm-ies. Never- theless, I .' ad not been long installed in my new situation, oefore my mind gradually began to open to the c eviction that there was a certain under- (nirrent of discontent amongst the domestics, — eometiries expressed by gloomy and disappoLated looks- -sometimes in wliispevings amongst three or four together — and at other times in louder grrmblings; but the nature of which I did not a* first comprehend. I must now observe that on the verge of the estate, about two miles from the mansion, there ■was situated a beautiful picturesque little village, taking its name from the domain, and therefore called Charlton. From the back windows the ivy- covered tower of the ancient church could be dis- tinguished above the trees ; and through an open- ing in that embowering grove, a quaint old- fashioned dark-red brick house, forming the parsonage, might be discovered. The stream flowed through this village, and turned a water- mill in the immediate vicinage. The nearest town ■was about three miles from the Hall ; and it appeared that the EavenshOI family were accus- tomed on the Sunday to visit one of the churches in this town, and not that in the village of Charl- ton. I afterwards discovered that this was because the clergyman of the village, — having for the most part a humble congregation, chiefly consisting of rustics, — felt himself bound to adapt his discourse to their powers of comprehension; and as a simple sermon did not suit the high and lofty notions of the Eavenshill family, they had for a long time frequented the town-church, where there Was a very eloquent and fashionable preacher. I*erhap8, also, Lord and Lady Eavenshill, pufied up as they were with aristocratic pride, were better pleased to display their grand equipages before the towns-people than in the eyes of the rustic ■villagers ; and moreover her ladyship's superb toilet would have been altogether thrown away upon the latter — while it was certain to make a due impression upon the former. And then, too, on coming out of chiuxh, there was the meeting with other nobility and gentry having country- seats in the neighbourhood, and likewise frequent- ing that fashionable chxirch. As for the domestics, they also had their pew at the same town-church ; and a sort of light and elegant omnibus-van con- veyed thither on the Sabbath those whose turn it was to go to church. For in this respect her ladyship was excedingly particular, — no doubt that the number of her domestics thus regularly at- , tending, should likewise make its impression upon "the towns-people, and enhance the pomp, osten- tation, and ceremony which characterized all the proceedings of the Eavensliill family. Immediately after our arrival at Charlton, a round of gaieties commenced at the HaU. There were dinner-parties three times a week, on which occasions numerous carriages from all the adjacent country-seats roUed up to the dwelling. There were moreover generally a dozen visitors stay- ing at the house ; and I used to think that the Eavenshill family maintained a sort of regal mag- nificence. On fine days, shooting-parties, fishing- parties, and riding-parties were formed : but if the weather were inclement, aU kinds of amuse- ments and recreations were devised for ia-doors. The gentlemen lounged in the biUiard-room— private theatricals were got up — and at night the festivities were maintained till a very late hour,— • sometimes tiU the morning was far advanced. At first I wondered how the entertainers and the en- tertained could stand so much dissipation and gaiety : but my experiences during my career of servitude have shown me that the efifects of those pursuits soon make themselves apparent in the pale and haggard looks of the male sex in high life, and in the prematurely fading beauty amongst the ladies : so that there is no wonder if succe- daneous arts and cosmetics should be so profusely had recourse to, in order to conceal the ravages committed by heated rooms, late hours, luxurious feeding, and the incessant recurrence of exciting and wasting pleasures. The Hon. Mr. Walter's principal valet was a man about thirty years of age — good-looking— and of very smart appearance. He was always genteelly dressed in black, and was scrupulously neat in his person. I became a favourite with the domestics generally: but this man, whose name was Charles Linton, took a particular fancy to me. and treated me with considerable kindness. So.iijtimes when we had a leisiire hour, he would invite me to ramble out with him ; and as he himself had received a tolerably good education, his discourse was something above ordinary conunon- place style. I should observe that he was one of the valets who had accompanied the family down from Eavenshill House near Eichmond; and therefore he was aware of the sudden manner in which I had been introduced into his lordship's service. But hitherto he had never spoken to me on the subject, — though from two or three words which he had occasionally let drop, it was apparent that he was not altogether unacquainted with the mysterious incidents of that memorable ! night. I should likewise add that he was one of I the few servants on whose part I had not noticed any of those whisperings and grumblings, and that air of discontent, which I had perceived in I respect to the great majority. Though thoroughly good-natured, he was indeed somewhat reserved; and was in the habit of speaking more to me than to any other of his fellow-domestics. One afternoon, when we had been about a month at the Hall, we were strolling together I along the bank of the stream. There was a pause I in the conversation which had hitherto been going on ; and the silence was presently broken by I Charles observing, with a somewhat significant look, "Your wages were due to-day — weren't they, Joseph ?" " Yes," I answered : " but I had quite forgotten all about it. I suppose I must apply to the steward " " I am very much afraid," interrupted Charles, " that it will be precisely the same as if jou had continued to forget it :" — then seeing tint I gazed 4.4 JOSEPH \nLMOTj OB, THE MEMOIES OF A MAK-SEETANT. upon him -with astonishment, he went on to ob- serve, " The fact is, Joseph, things appear to be coming to a crisis with the family. I see you don't understand me. Now, I am not in the habit of talking of his lordship's affairs, because it's no business of mine ; and I must say that if our wages were regularly paid, the place would be a comfortable one enough. But the truth is, Joseph, that for the last three years there is ecarcely a single soul of us that has received above one quarter of our due; and for four months past not a shilling has been paid." " I thought his lordship was immensely rich," was my very natural observation : and my amaze- ment was not altogether un mingled with in- credulity — though I knew that Charles Linton was by no means likely to jest upon such a sub- ject. " Eich indeed !" te exclaimed : " Ms lordship ought to be rolling in riches. Look at this splendid estate — look at the pretty little property at Eichmond — and then, too, there's a fine house, sumptuously furnished, in London : but everything is mortgaged over and over again. You don't exactly unlerstand what I mean. The fact is, liis lordship's father, and grandfather, and great- grandfather were all very extravagant, and bor- rowed large sums of money; so that when the present lord came into the property, he had nominally a revenue of forty thousand a year, but in reality not ten. He married her ladyship with the idea that she was possessed of excellent prospects, and at the death of an old uncle would have something like two himdred thousand pounds, which would go very far towards relieving the estates from their encumbrances. But Mr. Cuth- bert, the old uncle, suddenly married again : two children were bom — a boy and a girl — and all the property at the old man's death was of course left to them. Lady Eavenshill therefore got nothiag. The boy died a short time ago — that is to say, about two or three years ; and his surviving sister, Alicia Cuthbert " "Alicia!" I ejaculated, instantaneously struck by the name, it being the one mentioned by Lady Eavenshill on that night of mystery and adventure with the postchaise-and-four. " I know why you look astonished," observed Charles : " you are aware that it was Sliss Cuth- bert who was to be carried off that night when you were so strangely taken for her ? She lives with her mother in Hanover Square, leading out of Oxford Street ; and it was at the corner of one of the streets nearest to Mrs. Cuthbert's house, that the post-chaise was waiting. Of course you now begin to have a greater insight into the matter than you had before. Alicia Cuthbert came of age a few weeks ago, — inheriting two hundred thousand pounds and upwards. She is a beautiful creatiure, delicately and slightly made ; and there- fore it is easy to imagine how you were mistaken for her. But you must not think that she wishes to espouse Mr. "Walter : she hates and detests her cousin ; and Mrs. Cuthbert has an equal abhor- rence for the Eavenshill family. I beUeve that Miss Cuthbert is in love with some young gentle- man of very slender resources ; and against this match her mother sets h«r face. I do not exactly know what were the details of the stratagem to carry Miss Alicia off: but it is not very difficult to suspect that she was made to believe Captain Berkeley — for that is the name of the young gen- tleman alluded to — was waiting to elope with her. However, whatever the trick was, it faUed, as you perceive; and bitter no doubt is the disappoint- ment of Mr. Walter and his parents. They thought to get hold of the two hundred thousand pounds^ which would have helped to clear away their em- barrassments ; and how it will all end, I can't say — but I have my fears ; and I think from certain appearances that a crisis is at hand. I would have you know, Joseph, that Mr. "Walter threw out several hints at the time that he should Uke me to manage the business of carrying off Miss Cuth- bert : but I affected not to comprehend them — for I can assure you that even if the demand had been pointedly put, I should have refused to have any- thing to do with the proceeding." Every word which fell from Charles Linton's lips, was a revelation for me : the mystery of that eventful night was now fully cleared up ; and cer- tainly the transaction did not display the character of the Eavenshill family in a very favourable Ught. " But how is it," I inquired, " that such gaiety prevails at the Hall, when his lordship's circum- stances are thus embarrassed ?" " For several reasons," responded Linton. " In the first place, the family has been brought up to certain habits which it cannot possibly shake off: they can no more get out of their extravagant ways than an inveterate drunkard can all in a mo- ment become a water-drinker. In the second place, they doubtless flatter themselves that by keeping up these appearances, they conceal their real position from the knowledge of the world generally ; — and in the third place, it is absolutely necessary for Mr. "Walter to prop up the falling fortunes of his house by means of some brilliant alliance, which he can only hope to form by keep- ing his position in society. I am however afraid that though the nobility and gentry of these parts are ready enough to accept invitations to the Hall, eat his lordship's venison, drink his champagne, and encourage him in all his profuse hospitality — if hospitality it can be called — they will not be louud so eager to bestow one of their daughters on the ruined "Walter Eavenshill." " But win not Mr. "Walter have the property," I asked, " at his father's death ? I thought I understood that the estates were what is called entailed." " So they are," replied Linton : " and Mr. "Walter wiU enter upon their nominal possession, the same as his father did before him : but from aU I have learnt, I do not think that he wiU have a single farthing of revenue. The fact is, the moment he came of age he joined his lordship in a number of sscurities, and bonds, and fresh mort- gages, and so forth ; and in ditt'erent ways he has pledged beforehand, as it were, all his own life- interest in the property. There never was such a cruel thing, between you and me, Joseph, than this conduct on the part of his lordship. Not contented with ruining himselt, he ruins his son. I do believe that ]Mr. "Walter naturally possessed some good qualities : but he has been spoilt — totally spoilt by the mode of his bringing -up. I speak to you in confidence, because you are a dis- creet and intelligent lad; and I don't mind talking JOSEPH ■Vni.MOT ; OE, THE MEMOIBS OF A MAN-SERTAXT. 45 to you. Indeed, I feel as if this vent for my thoughts does me good. There are times when I really pity !Mr. Walter ; and when I sec all that is going on, I wish that I was on terms sufficient to warrant me in giving him some little advice. But great folks look down upon us servants, and imagine that we care nothing at all for their in- terests as long as we are well dressed and well fed." " Then you think, Charles," I said inquiringly, " that Mr. "Walter is looking out for a wife amongst all these beautiful and dashing ladies who are staying or visiting at the Hall ?" " I don't think anything about it — I am svire of it," was Linton's reply ; " and I am equally con- fident as to the result. It will be a failure, Joseph : mark my words, it will be a failure — and there wiU be a terrific smash soon : for how all the Christmas bills are to be met at the beginning of next year, is more than any one can say ; and the towns-people are already refusing to give any far- ther credit. This is a positive fact, Joseph; and I know that the steward and butler purpose to have a serious conversation with his lordship this afternoon." I was much shocked to hear that such was the condition of his lordship's affairs : for there was something painful in the idea that the possessor of such a vast estate should be so impoverished in his actual resources. " It is very hard upon some of us servants," continued Linton, after another pause. " We work hard — and we have a right to expect regular pay- ment; although I for one certainly have never greedily pressed for it. Bat the worst of it is that I really do believe my lord and her ladyship give themselves greater airs the nearer the hour of their utter ruin approaches. One would think, by the way they go on, they had not the slightest difficulty in paying their debts; but would you believe, Joseph, that her ladyship has actually bor- rowed money of her maids, and yet does not seem to think she is under the slightest obUgation to them? By the bye," added Charles, suddenly turning the conversation, "we are extending our walk a little too far : in another quarter of an hour we should be in Charlton. Come, let us turn." We began to retrace our way accordingly : and as we bent our steps homeward, Linton said, " Talking of Charlton, I don't think you have been there yet — have you?" I answered in the negative. " It is a beautiful little village," he went on to say ; " and even now, though the trees are well nigh all stripped of their leaves, it has a pic- turesque appearance. I tell you what, Joseph, — you and I will walk over to church there on Sun- day, if you like ; and I can promise that you will hear a discourse a great deal more touchiag than the high-flown bombast of Mr. Prunella at the town-church. The village-parson has just come back: I understand he has been away for some months in consequence of a death in the family. I can assxire you that he is much beloved by his parishioners. My lord and her ladyship don't like him because he is of retired habits and unassimiing manners : he is not one of your champagne-drinking, sporting, gay and dissipated clergymen like PruneUa But, Ah ! whose car- riage is that rolling along the road yonder ? I'll be bound it's going to the Hall. More visitors ! more guests !" We continued our way back to the mansion, — on nearing which, Charles strictly enjoined me not to mention anything he had been saying to me : but I assured him that no such caution was re- quisite. A new and splendidly painted equipage, drawn by two gorgeously caparisoned horses, and accompanied by servants in Uveries not merely fine but outrageously gaudy, was standing in front of the HaU ; and Charles, catching me by the arm ere we parted to attend to our respective duties, hastily whispered in my ear, " It's old Boustead's carriage ; and I can guess what it means. I will tell you all about it presently." Half-an-hour afterwards, as I was speaking to one of the servants in the Hall, Lord and Lady EavenshiU descended the staircase in company with a short, stout, vulgar-looking man, about sixty years of age, who talked very loud — ex- hibited great pomposity of manner — and seemed to have an extraordinary idea of his own import- ance. He had an immense red face and a very short neck; so that he looked exceedingly apo- Xilectic. Bas gold watch-chain, depending from Ms fob, was of immense size, and was garnished with at least half-a-dozen seals. There was alto- gether an air of pretension about him which in- dicated the parvenu, or upstart; and though in one sense he was obsequious — filling his sentences with " my lord " and " your ladyship " to a nauseating extent — yet on the other hand he evi- dently strove to place himself on a most familiar footing with them. As he talked very loud it was altogether impossible to avoid hearing what he was saying ; and I could not help noticing that he spoke uncommonly bad grammar, and appeared to have a wonderful ignorance of the proper use and meaning of certain words. Lord and Lady EavenshiU were treating him with a very marked courtesy, — which, though evidently forced, was nevertheless replete with that well-bred refine- ment which prevented its object from perceiving that it was thus constrained. Behind this group Mr. EavenshiU was escorting a young lady who leant upon his arm, and whom I presently understood to be Mr. Boustead's daugh- ter, delighting in the euphonious name of Euphe- mia. She was very far from being good-looking ; and truth compels me to add that she was exceed- ingly ugly. Her hair was of a flaming red ; and, as if determined to throw out its brightness with the utmost efiect, the young lady wore a bright yellow bonnet. Her countenance was insignifi- cant, notwithstanding a certain air of pretension, which she doubtless borrowed from her father. Her forehead was one mass of brown freckles ; she had the most ignoble pug-nose that ever formed an integral part of a feminine profile ; and it was so small that it might literally be said to be of Na- ture's " chiselling," — for if Nature had chiselled much longer, there would have been no nose at ail- But as if to indemnify her for this deficiency of one feature, that same Nature had presented her with a pair of very large coarse lips ; and when these parted in a smirking smile, they revealed teeth which, though certainly white enough, had the longitude of tusks; and the two front ones were so far apart that a half-crown might have 46 JOSEPH WIIMOT ; OR, THE MEMOrRS OF A MAN-SEEVANT. been placed between them. In figure she was excessively thin, even to leanness ; she had a short mincing step — and her form bent forward as it were with a sort of swaying movement, which was very ungraceful. There were both pretension and affectation in her whole appearance. Her toilet was outrageously gaudy and flaunting; and she ■was so bedizened with jewellery that it seemed as if she had studied every possible means of stowing about her person as many ornaments as possible. These, instead of imparting brilliancy to her aspect, could not fail to strike the most ordinary beholder as being in the very worst possible taste. "Well, my lud," said Mr. Boustead, speaking in his loud, strong voice, and with his pompous manner, " we shall have the honour of cutting our mutton with your ludship and my lady to-morrow at half-past sis. Phemy dear," he added, turning round to his daughter, " don't forget his ludship's kind provoke. By the bye, my lud, we give our grand let-off next Monday; and Mrs. B. wiU be quite imeonsolate if you and her ladyship and the Hon. Mr. Walter won't accept an invite." " I can assure you, Mr. Boustead," answered Lady Eavenshill, "that it wiU afford us infinite pleasure." " Don't make it later than nine," resumed this gentleman : " for there's going to be a polytechnic display " " Pyi'otechnic, pa!" suggested Miss Boustead, correctively. "Well, my dear," responded her affectionate parent, " I dare say you know best : leastways you had ought to do so — for you cost me enough for your edification. But I don't begi-udge it. One mustn't be equinoctial in these things, my lud." " Economical, pa !" again suggested the amiable Euphemia. In pleasant and agreeable discourse of this sort the party descended the stairs, traversed the hall, and proceeded forth to the carriage. Methought that Mr. Walter looked anything but happy, and that the smiles which he wore upon his counte- nance were altogether forced, as he handed the gaudily dressed Euphemia into the vehicle. " Now pray, my lud, don't stand out here with your hat off," said the considerate Mr. Boustead : " the influential" — by which I suppose he meant the influenza — " is very much about. And you, my lady, will get a touch of rheumatiz." Lord and Lady Eavenshill bowed their acknow- ledgments of this kind advice : Mr. Walter also bowed— and the equipage rolled away. " Well, Joseph," said Charles Linton to me when we had an opportunity of speaking a few words to- gether in the evening, " do you imderstand what aU that meant this afternoon ?" " I think I do," was my response. " Mr. Ravens- hill is going to marry Miss Boustead." " That is to say, if everything goes on smooth," observed Charles. " I rather wondered that these Bousteads should have been invited to the last two Or three evening parties : but now it's as clear as daylight." " And pray who is Mr. Boustead ?" I inquired. " What he was in his earlier days, no one knows," returned Linton. " He does not appear I to have made much sensation in the world before { he kept a very small, but no doubt very respecta- '■ ble chandler's shop, about a quarter of a century back. Tlie chandler's shop gradually expanded into a large grocery and tea-dealing establishment ; and then, by some very lucky speculation — a sort of neck-or-nothing affair — Mr. Boustead gained fifty thousand pounds. The tea-dealing establish- ment was sold; and he went on speculating in this thing and in that ; till at last he retired from busi- ness altogether, about four or five years ago, with at least half a million. You see what sort of a man he is : his wife is three times as vulgar. But they have got the money — his lordship wants it — and therefore I have no doubt," added Linton, lowering his voice to a significant whisper, " our young mas- ter wiU be sacrificed." CHAPTER XII. THE B0USTEAD3. On the following Sunday, according to agreement, Charles Linton and I walked across together to the Uttle village of Charlton. It did not contain more than about sixty houses, — most of these being cottages of the humblest description, tenanted by rustics who were chiefly employed upon Lord RavenshiU's estate. The church stood at the farther extremity; and the parsonage, as already stated, was close by. We arrived in good time, and took our seats in the gallery. Presently two ladies in deep moiu-ning entered the pew nearest to the reading-desk, and which I therefore knew to be the clergyman's. From where I sat I could not immediately obtain a view of those ladies' coun- tenances : but I saw that one was evidently by her figure an elderly person — while the other was quite young. A few minutes afterwards the clergyman ascended into the reading-desk ; and what was my astonish- ment on immediately recognising the Rev. Mr. Howard, a relation of the Delmars, and whom I had seen at the Manor on the occasion of the funeral. Then I recollected being informed at the time that he had a small living in Devonshire : but it so happened that though I had now been upwards of a month at Charlton HaU, the name of this village -clergyman was never once men- tioned in my presence — or if it were, I had failed to be struck by it. I now surveyed those two ladies with renewed attention. The circumstance that they occupied the minister's pew, and that they were in deep mourning, convinced me they were his relations. Perhaps the younger one was his wife ? — for I had not heard, when at Delmar Manor, whether he was married or not. I did not like to put any whispering questions to Charles Linton, as the service had just commenced. It progressed; and throughout the reading of the prayers, I had not the slightest opportunity of catching a glimpse of the countenances of those ladies. They were evidently much affected by sevwal parts of the service, wherever aUusiona were made to death. It was not until the Rev. Mr. Howard was ascending into the pulpit, that my curiosity was gratified; and then, as the yoimger lady raised her eyes, I at once recognised the beautiful features of Miss Dehnar. Yes: it was indeed Edith— but pale— Oh ! so pale, that I saw at once how much she must have suffered ood JOSEPH WILMOT ; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A ITATT-SERTANT, 47 how ill slie had been. Almost immediately after- ■vrards I was enabled to notice that her companion •was, as I had suspected, an elderly lady ; and her countenance, though much care-worn, and bearing the traces of deep mental distress, was full of benevolence and kindness. Throughout the ser- vice Edith never once glanced up towards the gal- lery ; and when it was over, she and her elderly companion remained seated in the pew while the congregation issued forth. I did not mention to Charles Linton that I had recognised any one who was previously known to me. I had never spoken of the Dehnars by name to any inmate of the household at the HaU : I was too fearful of saying a word that by any accident might servo to afford a clue to the discovery of my whereabouts on the part of Mr. Lanover. But as I and Linton walked back to the Hall, he noticed that I was pensive — and kindly inquired the rea- son. I gave some evasive response, with which he was satisfied — or at least appeared to be so. When I went to bed that night, I reflected whether I should avail myself of the first opportunity to walk over to Charlton again and pay my respects to Miss Delmar : for I knew perfectly well that if I explained to her that there were certain reasons inducing me to wish my place of abode to remain strictly a secret, she would be the last person in the world to betray it. But then I reflected that she Lad doubtless come down into this seclusion in the heart of Devonshire, not merely for the restora- tion of her shattered health — ^but likewise to escape as much as possible £rom those associations and scenes in the vicinage of London which must be so painful for her : and I thought that my presence, so forcibly reminding her of one of the noblest as well as the last acts of true benevolence ever per- formed by her deceased father, would revive all the bitterness of her affliction. I therefore resolved to allow at least some time to elapse ere I would take any step that should so vividly recall the past to that young lady's mind. My pillow was moistened with tears this night, as the terrific tragedy at Delmar Manor was reviewed over again in all its diabolic and mysterious details. On the following day, Mr. Boustead's splendid equipage arrived at Charlton HaU at a quarter to seven instead of half-past six : for this gentleman, his wife, and daughter no doubt considered it ex- ceedingly vulgar to be exactly punctual. Mrs. Boustead came on this occasion ; and without any inclination to exaggerate — much less to be mali- cious — I am bound to declare that any one of the scullery-maids dressed up in drawing-room cos- tume, would have cut a much more respectable figure. She was about fifty years of age — exceed- ingly stout — with a face as rubicund as her hus- band's ; and she had a peculiar waddle in her gait. Her arms, enormously coarse, were of a fluming red ; and she had the folly to display them in their repulsive bareness. Her great red neck and shoulders were equally exposed : she wore a yellow turban surmoimting a false front of flaxen hair : her dress was a bright blue satin ; and she resem- bled a peripatetic jeweller's shop, looking as if she were completely hung in golden chains. Mr. Boustead wore knee-breeches, silk stockings, and shoes; and carried an opera-hat under his arm. Euphemia was dressed out in a style which I will not pause to describe, but the flaunting gaiety of which evinced the most execrable taste. I should add that Mrs. Boustead possessed a very hoarse loud voice, and spoke as if she had been taking lessons in vocal Lutonations from a boatswain — or as if she had been blowing a bassoon for the pre- vious fortnight. No other guests were invited to meet the Bousteads : it was evidently to be a family-party — and doubtless for more reasons than one. In the first place, the EavenshUls could not be over- anxious to bring the vulgarity of the Bousteads in contact with the exquisite aristocratic fastidious- ness of their wonted circle of acquaintances ; and in the second place, opportunities must be allowed for Mr. Walter to render himself as agreeable as possible to Miss Euphemia. I had to assist in waiting at table ; and I must do Lord Ravenshill, his vrife, and his son, the justice to observe that they manifested an exemplary forbearance and patience in listening to the discourse of their guests. Mr. Boustead was a purse-proud man; but though he would have given one of his eyes— and heaven knows what besides — to have been enabled to talk of his ancestors, he afiected to make it his boast that he had risen from nothing. Yet he spoke of the " common people " as if he had never had anything to do with them — much less as if he had sprung from their very dregs. The words " riff-rafi" " and " mob," " rabble " and " unwashed," frequently interlarded his discourse. It appeared that he was a county magistrate ; and he gave his lordship to understand " that he couldn't a-bear a poacher — that a vagrant was his abomination — a gipsy his horror — and a workhouse pauper a being of a degree infinitely below the most noxious of varmint." He was a rank Tory in politics, and threw out a hint that he should like to stand for the county in that interest at the next election. Mrs. Boustead repudiated the principal rules of grammar and of correct pronunciation as boldly as did her husband : or rather I should say, she had no Idea of their existence ; and being exceed- ingly well satisfied with her conversational ability in theu- absence, she illustrated the bard's some- what paradoxical aphorism, that " where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." She spoke a great deal of her house, which was of course " a man- sion " — and of her gardens, which were of coxirse "grounds." Her carriages and horses — the par- ties she gave — the titled guests she received — and the numerous invitations which poured In upon her, and which were so provokingly numerous as to be beyond the possibility of acceptance — these also entered into the staple commodities of her discom'se. As for Miss Euphemia, — she ventured to talk of Byron, and asked Mr. Walter how he liked " Cliilde Harold" — pronouncing the e at the end of the first word, and therefore making it Child-e : then flying off" at a tangent with vivacious frivolity, she entertained him with a long de- scription of how she was Invited to dance by young Lord Addlepate at the last county ball— and how she was so sorry that she was compelled to pain Ills lordship by a refusal — but she really could not help It — for she was alrea,dy engaged thirteen deep to as many other noble lords, baronets, or honour' ableSj^adding, Avlth a disdainful toss of her head, that her " ma " was so particular, she never would allow her to dance with- anybody who had not 43 JOSEPH WIIMOT; OB, THE MEM0IE3 OF A MAN-SEEVANT. some title or some connexion with the aristocracy. Nothing could be more affected than her manner —nothing more flippant nor insipid than her dis- course; and when I reflected that the handsome, elegant, and fastidious Walter Eavenshill was compelled to smile, look pleased, dispense flatteries, and lavish compliments upon Euphemia Boustead, it was indeed enough to make the heart pity him. Weeks wore on : the Bousteads were constant visitors at Charlton Hall— the Eavenshill family occasionally visited the Bousteads ; and though it was not formally j)roclaimed that Mr. Walter was to wed the young lady, the match was nevertheless deemed a tertainty. On the strength thereof — as I learnt from Charles — the tradesmen of the town continued to give credit; and the steward ad- vanced some of his own money to pay the domes- tics an instalment of their wages. Once, in the course of conversation with Charles, I expressed my surprise that Lord Eavenshill had not already managed to borrow a sum in advance of Mr. Bou- stead, so as to pay off his most pressing liabilities : but Charles assui-ed me that Euphcmia's father was a very cautious and shrewd-dealing man, and that he was by no means likely to part ^ith any of his gold until all preliminary arrangements for the marriage should have been accomplished to his entire satisfaction. Lord EavenshiLl's attorney came down from London, with a large tin-box full of papers ; and for several days his lordship was closetted with the man of business. Charles told me that they were making out a list of all the liabilities, and going deep into his lordship's affairs — a proceeding on which Euphemia's father had no doubt insisted. This gentleman himself, ac- companied by his own solicitor from the town, was occasionally present at those conferences. At length his lordship's attorney went back to Lon- don ; and in a short time it was a thoroughly understood thing that the Hon. Walter Eavenshill and Miss Boustead were engaged to each other, and that the nuptials were to be celebrated so soon as the marriage-settlements could be di-awn up, and other necessary arrangements effected, — the period for the wedding being calculated for the end of March. It was now the close of January of the New Year — namely, 1837 — when an incident took place requiring especial mention. The intelligence was one morning brought to the Hall that a drama- tic company had arrived in the town, and that the theatre had been engaged for one week. Some years had elapsed, as I was informed, since any theatrical manager hM been bold enough to try his fortune in that town ; and the incident there- fore created a perfect sensation. The matter was duly talked over in the servants' hall ; and every one expressed a hope that an opportunity would be afforded for the domestics generally to indulge in the recreation for which an occasion thus pre- sented itself. The steward was spoken to ; and he not only gave his consent — but settled the arrange- ments by which a portion of the servants should visit the theatre on one evening, and the other portion on the following evening, — the omnibus- van which was used for taking us to church, being placed at our disposal for these two occa- sions. A subscription was at once set afoot in the servants' hall to secure the requisite number of seats in the front row of the gallery ; and one of the domestics went over to the town to settle this portion of the business. On his return, he brought with him several play-biUs descriptive of the per- formances throughout the week for which the theatre had been engaged), and these were studied with the utmost attention afid^ijj^erest in the ser- vants' hall. Amongst the various'.'fttiractions thus set forth, was a dance to be performed by a num- ber of " young ladies belonging to the company," and who would represent the spuits of a haunted lake, — the bill farther explaining that they would be led by " that inimitable danseuse, Miss Yiolet Mortimer — a young lady whose recent appearance in that capacity on the provincial boards, had aheady excited so much sensation and won such rapturous applause wheresoever she had as yet ex- hibited." Then followed a few extracts from cri- tiques in some provincial journals ; and these spoke of Miss Violet Mortimer as a " perfect pro- digy" — '■■ a ravishing creature" — " a young lady of spirit-like beauty as well as ethereal grace, and one who would prove a valuable acquisition to the Lon- don stage." In short, it was evident enough that Miss Mortimer was the star of the company, and that immense reliance was placed by the manager upon her attractions. The perusal of these details piqued the curiosity and enhanced the excitement of the domestics at Charlton Hall into perfect en- thusiasm; and when lots were drawn to decide who should visit the theatre on the first evening, one would really have thought that it was a thousand pound prize to be thus contended for. The number which I drew placed me amongst those who were to restrain their curiosity and curb their impatience xmtil the second evening ; and I must confess that I was rather annoyed at this ; — • for, mere boy as I was — not yet sixteen years old, and never having visited a theatre in my life — I was anxious to behold those marvels the bare idea of which had so excited aU my fcUow-servants. It was on a Saturday that the lots were thus drawn ; and the theatre was to ojjen on the following Mon- day. When the evening of that day arrived, it was with some little degree of envy that I beheld the more fortunate portion of the servants set off in the omibus-van for the town : but Charles Lin- ton, who was in the same category with myself, said, " Never mind, Joseph ; our turn will come to-morrow evening ; and as you have never been to a theatre before, you shall sit next to me, and I wiU give you all necessary explanations. By the bye, my boy, you must not for a moment fancy that all the wonderful attractions set forth in these flaming bills are going to be reaUzed : it is a mere manager's trick to draw a house ; and all the fine talk of splendid decorations, dazzling costumes, and new scenery, will dwindle down into compara- tive insignificance. I dare say that even Miss — what's-her-name — Violet Mortimer — an excellent theatrical name by the way — wUl be no exception to the rule, and that those who have just gone in the hope of seeing something extraordinary, wUl return sadly disappointed. However, we will sit up, if you like — and hear what they say." This I agreed to do : but it was near one o'clock in the morning before the domestics returned ; and for once in his life, Charles Linton was altogether wrong. They came back in perfect raptures with the pieces, the decorations, the scenery, and the JOSEPH wil:mot ; on, the memoies of a man-servant. •I'J performance — but cMefly of all witli tLe personal beauty and the graceful dancing of Violet Morti- mer. They declared that the representations in the play-bUls were in no wise exaggerated — and that this young lady was a perfect prodigy of love- liness, elegance, and fascination. It appeared that the theatre was crowded to excess — and that Miss Mortimer was called before the curtain and enthu- siastically applauded. My curiosity was now more than ever excited ;* and I noticed that Charles himself, — hitherto the only one who had talked coldly of the aflfair — began to be inspired with the same sentiment. On the following evening I entered the omnibus in company with those of my fellow-servants whose turn it now was to visit the theatre. Lord Eavens- MU. had taken a box for this occasion — where him- self,, her ladyship, and Mr. Walter were to be joined by the Bousteads. During the drive of three miles to the town I sat wondering what a theatre was like, and joyously anticipating an experience of that pleasure which the other portion of the domestics had revelled in on the previous evening. On entering the establishment, Charles — according to promise — kept me by his side : we had front seats in the gallery, and could therefore command an excellent view of the stage and the whole house, every part of which was perfectly crammed. We beheld the Eavenshills and the Bousteads seated in a box near the stage ; and, amongst the rest of the company, we recognised many of those families who were accustomed to visit at Charlton Hall. The curtain drew up; and then, for the first time in my life, I beheld the attractions of a stage. I have since seen the great metropolitan theatres ; and, as a matter of course, in comparison there- with, a small provincial one sinks into utter insig- nificance : but to me who was then contemplating the spectacle for the first time, it was fraught with the most pleasing and exciting interest. The actor* 50 JOSEPH WILMOT ; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERYANT. and actresses appeared to be magnificently dressed, — the former likewise having the air of the hand- somest of men, and the latter that of the loveliest of women. Charles saw how much I was delighted ; and comprehending the effect which tinsel and other theatrical delusions were making upon my mind, he smiled and whispered a few words of ex- planation, — letting me into the secret of what stage-apparel was, and how rouge and other suc- cedaneous contrivances invested ugliness with attractions. • Still I was pleased; and I asked which of those beautiful ladies was Miss Violet Mortimer ? — but on referring to the play -bill, Charles informed me that she would not appear till the third scene, when the dance of the fairies on the shore of the haunted lake would take place. The first and second scenes were terminated; and when the curtain ascended upon the third, the stage, darkened into semi-obseurity, represented a lake the banks of which were fringed with trees. The manner in which the water — or what served as water — appeared to send forth its glimmering twilight shine, struck me as being peculiarly efi'ective. Indeed, Charles himself — though dis- posed to be hypercritical on the occasion — admitted that it was very well managed for a pro- vincial theatre. The music began to play a low but not melancholy strain : it was to represent a cheerful harmony sweetly floating over the lake in the distance. Then, from either side of the stage, the fairies came gliding on, — looking most ravish- ingly beautiful with their light gauzy dresses, their azure wings, and their long hair floating over their bare shoulders. They held in their hands wands tipped with stars; and these glittered brightly with the reflection of the stage-lights that were hidden from the view. Moreover, — to enhance the delusion that these star-tipped wands them- selves sent forth that soft argentine lustre which pervaded the scene, — a cold silvery light was by some contrivance shed from the sides of the stage. Altogether the scene was most effective. Again I asked which was Violet Mortimer ? — but scarcely was the question put, and before it was answered, several voices exclaimed rapturously, " Here she is!" — and as another figure glided quickly in, with magically glancing feet, upon the stage, thunders of apj)lause burst forth. But, good heavens ! was it a shock of wonderment which seized upon me ? or was it an overpowering sensation of pleasure which I at the moment experienced? Could it indeed be possible that in Violet Mortimer I recog- nised the loved and cherished Annabel ? CHAPTEE XII. BEHIND THE SCENES. I DO not know vrhether an cjacidation expressive of my feelings burst from my lips— but I think not : I believe that whatever those feelings were, they must have stricken me speechless ; — for neither Charles Linton nor any other person near me, observed that I displayed an unusual emotion, beyond tliat of pleasure and delight which appeared to animate a'll present. Violet acknowledged with a graceful cji-tsey the enthusiastic reception which she thus experienced ; and then, as the applause died away, the fau-y dance commenced. I sat rivetted to my place — my looks fascinated — all my feelings spell-bound. Was it indeed she ? Yes — • how could I doubt it ? Could I possibly mistake that tall, slight, beautifuUy-modelled figure, whose every motion was poetry and seemed to correspond with the harmony of the features ? could I mistake those clustering masses of golden hair which floated over her shoulders, like a thick veil of glossy silk thrown back ? Did any other being on the face of the earth possess that brilliant anima- tion of the skin — alabaster everywhere, save in respect to the coral lips, and where art appeared to have shed upon the cheeks the hue of the blush- ing rose ? What other creatvu-e in female shape was endowed with so rare a beauty ? And that figure, too, which seemed almost aerial — so that one might imagine that if the hands clasped the tapering waist the fingers would meet, and the slightest upward impulse would serve to whirl her up into that ethereal region Avhence, with the azure wings upon her shoulders, she appeared to have come down ! I was too remote to catch the expression of her countenance; and yet the longer I gazed, the more was I enabled to picture to myself that mild look which Annabel wore, now somewhat elevated from its soft sweet melancholy into an animation bordering upon radiance. For some minutes I was so entranced with mingled wonder and delight, that I was unable to analyze my own thoughts, — until I began to expe- rience a painful under-current of feeling creeping in unto my soul. That Annabel should be there, naturally gave birth to the Supposition that she must have fled from her home — and perhaps on account of me ! How, otherwise, could she — the pure-minded, the ingenuous, the virtue-loving Annabel — have been thrown by destiny into the midst of a company of performers ? how else coidd she have been driven into a pursuit which I should have deemed the last in all the world to be volun- tarily sought by her, compelling her as it were to leap with a sudden bound from the seclusion of her recent existence into the dazzling, wUdering, intoxicating blaze of popular favour? Was it really Annabel — that Annabel whom but a few months back I had known as the personification of charming goodness — the retiring maiden invested with the candoui" of sweet fifteen ? Alas, alas ! it must be I — and I alone — who had proved the cause of this wondrous — and not less painful than wondrous — change in her circumstances ! Such were the reflections which, after beginning with a gradual creej^ing to enter my mind, poured in like a trooping crowd, and surged up as it were into my very brain. But stUl I sat and gazed upon her as she led the fairy dance by the side of the haunted lake. Yes : every motion was in itself music,- — so that the real music which was playing failed to be observed, and whatsoever harmony pervaded within those walls, seemed to be the effluence of a lovely form expending its spu'itualized feeling in movements of the animal frame. Slowly began that dance — it grew more rapid — but I be- held only one of the dancers. On her my looks were rivetted : not for a single instant did they wander away from her : not for a moment did thoy settle elsewhere. Her exquisite figure seemed qviiokened by the ethercalizing spirit into outlines and attitudes of nature's own gracefulness, — changing from one to another in transitions which still grew more rapid as she went on gliding, and floating, and flying amidst the scenery representing shrubs and trees on the border of that imitation- lake. All those movements appeared to have the power of airy words — an eloquence all their owa, even while the voice was not heard : for there was no speaking amongst the dancers — the music of the orchestra was alone the soui-ce of soimds, imtil the cm-tain slowly descended upon the scene ; and then the enthusiastic plaudits from the audience burst forth anew. Still I sat in a scarcely describable state of feeling; and twice did Charles Linton inquire whether I was pleased with the representation, ere I gave him a response. I remember not what I said : but it must have been something vague, and doubtless to his conception puerUe to a degree ; for he laughed, observing that my raptm-ed state of feeling was far more complimentary to Violet Mortimer's talents than even the thunders of ap- plause which had succeeded the descent of the curtain. I was about to express myself with a frankness which the excited state of my mind prompted, — when 1 suddenly remembered that I must forbear from mentioning the Lauovcrs, as that name had never once passed my lips during the whole time I had been in Lord Eavenshill's service : and so I held my peace. As the play proceeded, I watched eagerly for the re-appearance of Violet Mortimer : but she came not on again until the last act, — and then to lead another fairy dance. I wiU not recapitulate the poetic attrac- tions of her performance, nor the feelings with which I contemplated her : it would be a mere work of supererogation. The curtain descended again : and the first drama in the list of the evening's entertainment being thus over, she was summoned before the cm-tain. The manager led her on : the footlights were now blazing — she was enveloped in lustre — and again I asked myself whether it were all a dream, or whether I really beheld the idolized Annabel — the object of my boyish love — in that gauzy costume, thus display- ing almost shamelessly her bare shoulders and neck, and with the flesh-coloured apparel revealing the symmetry of her limbs ! Then too, at that moment, a sensation of sickness came over me ; and I felt that I could have laid down my life cheerfully — Oh, so cheerfully ! — to save Annabel such a destiny as this, if it could have been fore- seen on that memorable night when she enabled me to escape from her father's house. Yes : it was a sickness that came over me — a faintness, accompanied by a swimming of the brain and a dimness of the eyes, — so that I felt as if I were about to sink down in a swoon. But I was suddenly recalled as it were into full vitality again, by a fresh outbm-st of tremendous applause ; and as I glanced towards the stage, I caught a glimpse of her fairy figure, as still holding the manager's hand, she disappeared from the view of the audience. Then a sudden idea sprang up within me. I must see Annabel — or at least I must see this Violet Mortimer : I must sec lier close — so as to leave no doubt in my mind tb.at she and Annabel were one and the same. Doubt ? I entertained no doubt ! It was the last faint hope of very despair itself, — a hope suggesting that it was just possible it might iiot be Annabel after all. Aud yet — singularly paradoxical and contradictory as this explanation of my feelings may be — I had the firm conviction that it was Annabel, and could be no other ! But I must see her — I must speak to her — I must implore her pardon for haviug been the cause of this tre- mendous change in her position! Yes — on my knees must I implore her forgiveness for having on that memorable night consented to save myself at the risk of leaving her exposed to all the most frightful consequences, — which consequences did indeed appear to have been most fatally realised : or else how was it that I now beheld her in that position ? I started up from my seat so suddenly that Charles Linton thought I was unwell; and catch- ing me by the arm, he ofiered to go out with me. But I said that I should be back in a few minutes ; and he did not attempt to detain, nor persist in his proposal to accompany me. I made my way amidst the crowd which thronged the gallery, treading upon the toes of some — disordering divers shawls, and achieving the discomfiture of sundry bonnets; — but scarcely waiting to apologize for each fresh act of hasty awkwai-dness, I reached the staircase. Down this I hurried precipitately ; but on finding myself in the entrance-way or vestibule, I suddenly stopped short, not kno-wing how to proceed. Observing the man who had taken the gallery -tickets, I accosted him, — saying that I wished to speak to one of the performers. He asked me to whom I alluded ? I replied, " Miss Mortimer :" — ^whereupon he remarked, perceiving that I was in livery, and had the well-known crest of the Ravenshill family iipon my button, " I pre- sume you have some message from my lord or her ladyship for Miss Mortimer F" " Yes, yes," I answered quickly, at once com- prehending that it was only by means of such a subterfuge my aim could be accomplished. " Well then, my lad," continued the man, "go up the little narrow passage by the side of the theatre ; and you will see the stage-entrance." I thanked him and hurried away, delighted Vvith the success of my application. Issuing forth from the theatre, I passed round into an obscure lane which divided it from the adjacent house — and speedily reached a little narrow door with an ascent of about a dozen dirty wooden steps, more like a ladder than a stair. Pushing open another door at the top, I found myself in the back part of the stage ; and as the curtain was do^vn, the car- penters and scene-shifters were busily preparing for the opening of the next piece. One of the " fairies" was standing near ; and on beholding her thus close, I was struck^nay, positively shocked at her appearance. Beautiful as she had seemed in the distance, the dispelling of the illusion pro- duced a cruel effect upon my mind. Her showy fanciful costume was of the coarsest muslin, covered with the tawdriest ornaments and the most worth- less tinsel : her jaded look was by no means con- cealed by the deep patches of rouge upon her thin Iiollow- cheeks. She could not have been more than two or three-and-twenty : she had e^ ideutly once been pretty — and these were the pitiful re- mains of that beauty ! AVhen viewed thus near, there was only that false glitter of appearance which betokened atuidst its ruins somethiug origi- UBRARt UNlVERSrn OF IlLINOtS 52 JOSEPH WILMOT ; OB, THE MESTOIES OF A irAX-SERVAXT, nallj of superior things. Yes — I was shocked: SLzd I ■n-as turning awaj with eren a sense of loathing, when she suddenly spoke to one of the carpenters, giving utterance to a coarse jest in a hoarse broken voice. StUl more was the illusion dispelled. I hurried on, plungiag farther behind the scenes, with the sickening idea in my soul that such as this wretched creature now seemed, might Annabel soon become — unless snatched away from the health- wasting, soul-contaminating avocations and influences amongst which destiny appeared to have cast her. But all in a moment I stopped short : for, on the opposite side of the stage — lean- ing against a piece of scenery — appeared the object of my presence there. And now my soul was suddenly smitten with another blow. She was listening, with a sort of half-bashfulness, half-pleasure upon her counte- nance, to something that a young gentleman was whispering in her ear ; and this young gentleman I at once recognised to be Sir Malcolm Wavenham — a gay and profligate Baronet who had only recently come into a very large fortime, and who was a frequent visitor at Charlton Hall. But the moment after this suspicion, so injurious to An- nabel, had entered my mind, I felt how xmgene- rous it was ; and I strove to banish it : for I said to myself that it was not because Sir Malcolm was a dissipated rake, she must necessarily be giving him encouragement. And, indeed, scarcely had I thus conceived this thought in her favoxir, when I observed that she suddenly drew herself up in a dignified manner, and made some remark, which however I could not catch at that distance, but which struck me as being accompanied with a look of indignation. A feehng of joy warmed my heart : it was an infinite relief to the cruel suspicion which but a few moments back had sprimg up there. StUl, however, the conversation went on between herself and Sir Malcolm "Wavenham ; and I heard him say, '•' But, my dear Miss Mortimer, a young lady of your beauty " Then she interrupted bimj raising her finger to her lip : I thought and hoped it was to imply that she was not to be addressed in so famiUar a man- ner, nor in such terms of flattery. But still the discourse went on, again continued in a hushed voice on the part of the Baronet, and listened to by her with the downcast eyes of bashfulness, yet with a certain animation of the cheeks, — an ani- mation deeper and more natural than the artificial rose which had slightly covered them. Oh! I thought to myself — why, Annabel — Oh, why listen longer to that man at all ? And yoimg though I was, I had no difficulty in suspecting that his aims and hopes were neither creditable to himself nor honourable to her. It was therefore with a reviv- ing anguish of heart that I gazed upon that sym- metrical form of sylphid shape, yet giving promise of fulness in its proportions; — I gazed, too, upon that coimtenance which my mind had so faithfully trcasiured up : but I could not now catch the sweet azure eyes — for they were bent down ; and the long silken lashes, so many shades darker than the lustrous flood of her golden hair, reposed upon her cheeks. She had not as yet observed that I was near : she had not caught a glimpse of me. Oh ! what would she think — what would she say, if raising her eyes, they suddenly turned to rest upon me ? Ah 1 I said to myself, that if I had not thus beheld her in discourse with that yoimg man, I should have sprung forward and caught her in my arms, tmmindful of whosoever might have beheld the action. I had been standing there some three or four minutes, thus gazing upon her, and while that conversation was progressing in its hushed tones, — when Sir Malcolm Wavenham, suddenly prof- fered his hand. She shook her head: I marked that an e3:pression of annoyance, of mingled pride and anger appeared upon his features: then he said something about " altering her mind" and '•■ letting him know to-morrow." This was all I could catch ; and he turned abruptly away She remained standing there with her looks bent down, and Ln an attitude of extreme pensiveness. "WhUe I my eyes for a moment followed the retreating form of the young Baronet, as he traversed the stage towards the same door by which I had en- tered, — I noticed that one of the scene-shifters jerked his thumb significantly over his shoulder towards Violet Mortimer ; and then in the same meaning manner, he indi«i':ed AVavenham, — his leering look having a corresponding expression; and the companion for whose behoof he accom- plished this dumb-show, gave a coarse chuckling laugh. Good heavens ! I thought to myself, that Annabel — the pure-minded, chaste-souled Annabel, as I had known her — should have become the object of the ribald significancy of these coarse men ! Again I felt coming over me that sickening sensation which had seized me in the gallery ; but she — the object of my presence here — was at the moment about to move away ; and darting across the stage, I stood before her. Oh! now I was destined to experience another shock. She drew herself up with a kind of hauteur, and looked so coldly upon me yes, so coldly with her beau- tiful azure eyes, that I was confounded. But this overpowering sense quickly fled ; and in a voice fraught with a full gush of feeling, I said, '•' Anna- bel!" She started — Oh, how she started, as if electrified! And, strange, as well as painfid indeed, was the look which she bent upon me, — not cold and haughty 7iou', but full of a mournful tenderness : and how ineffably, how pathetically sweet ! " Annabel — dear Annabel !" I said murmuringly as I caught her hand in my own : " you know not what pleasure and what paia I experience to meet you now !" She btirst into tears — drew back her hand with a sudden spasmodic violence — and the next moment disappeared from my view. I remained rooted to the spot like one annihilated. Darkness seemed to have suddenly sprung up where brightness had reigned an instant before. It was like a dream. I felt bewildered : my brain was turning. Suddenly re- covering the power of movement, I hurried in the same direction where she had disappeared ; — and I speedily became involved amidst a perfect maze of ropes, windlasses, spars, beams, and all kinds of theatrical machinery. " Xow then, youngster — where are you rushing to ?" demanded a gruff voice. '■Here — stand back!" said another rough-looking individual, seizing me by the shoulder : and then a huge scene glided in front of me — so that I was quite bewildered and knew not which way to pro- ceed. JOSEPH ■VTILMOT ; OK, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SEEYAXT. 53 " What do you want, my lad ?" asked a tall man, decked out in a fancy costume of threadbare velvet, faded ribands, and tinsel ornaments. " I wished to speak to Annabel," I exclaimed almost frantically. "Annabel ?" he repeated. " Miss Mortimer, I mean," were my next words, also spoken with nervous rapidity. '•' TVTiat for ? who do you come from ? have you got any message ?" " No," I said : " it is on my own account " The taU man laughed outright : and then catch- ing me by the arm, he said, " You have no busi- ness here. How the deuce did you find your way behind the scenes ?" " Sliss Mortimer will see me !" I exclaimed, struggling to release myself, as he hurried me towards the stage-door. " Well, if that's the case," he observed, suddenly stopping short, " you shall see her. But we will inquire first. You must know, my boy, that I am the manager here ; and things can't be done in this wild way :" — then beckoning to a woman, ap- parelled in the most tawdry style, and who was of course one of the actresses, he said, " Here, Polly, just go and ask Miss Mortimer if she 'Ukes to see a young chap in livery By the bye, what name ?" " Joseph Wilmot," I answered quickly, and with the feverish hope that in a few instants I should again be in the presence of Annabel. "Well — say Joseph Wilmot, then," continued the manager, again speaking to tibe tawdrily-dressed actress. The woman disappeared behind some of the Bcenery ; and in a few moments came back, saying, "Miss Mortimer knows him not — and declines seeing anybody." " There, young chap — you have got your answer," exclaimed the manager : and with the strength of a giant, he hurried me over to the stage-door. A bell rang and the music struck up, just as he gave me a push which precipitated me down the steps : the door was closed at the head of those stairs — and I heard a bolt drawn. I stood in the dark alley, with the tears rolling down my cheeks : I wept as if my heart were about to break. I said to myself in the wild bit- terness of my anguish, " Annabel repudiates me ! she will not know me ! Is it pride because she finds me once more clothed in the garb of servi- tude ? or is it becaiise she cannot look me in the face as but a few months back she was enabled frankly and ingenuously to do ? No, no — it is not pride : or else Annabel must indeed be strangely altered. But it is shame — it is shame !" I remember that I leant against the wall in that dark alley for support : I was almost crushed and trampled down by the power of my tremen- dous anguish. I knew not what to do. How could I tear myself away without making another efibrt to have speech of Annabel ? — but of what avail to renew the attempt, if she were so decided in not meeting me again ? And now, too, oc- curred the reflection that it would pain her if I were to persevere in my endeavours to force my- self into her presence : and. Oh ! to inflict pain upon the heart of Annabel — I could not do it ! Slowly I threaded my way down that alley towards tli6 entrance : but just as I was about to emerge forth, my ear caught the sound of a well-known voice speaking in the street. It was that of Sir Malcolm Wavenham. " I shall know all about it to-morrow," he was saying. '• I could not get a decisive answer this evening. I can't make her out. She is either really a virtuous girl — or else a very adept in dis- simulation." " A virtuous girl, dancing on the stage !" ejacu- lated another voice, with an ironical laugh. '•' My dear Wavenham, you are mad to think such a thing. Come — let us smoke a cigar along the street, and talk it over." The Baronet and his friend (some gentleman who was unknown to me) thereupon moved away : but once more had I been painfully shocked at hearing Annabel thus spoken of. I lingered for a few minutes to compose my feelings as weU as I was able : for I saw the necessity of speedily re- turning into the theatre ; or else my fellow-servants — Charles Linton especially — would consider my absence strange; and I should be overwhelmed with disagreeable questions. If so, I was deter- mined not to answer them. I said to myself, " Annabel has a mother who cannot possibly have counselled her daughter to adopt this line of life. Perhaps she is even ignorant of it; and never from my lips shall any one learn that the daughter of so good a mother is identical with Violet Mor- timer the dancing-girl." I returned to the gallery. Linton thought I had been unwell : I did not undeceive him ; and indeed my looks were so pale and troubled as to confirm his conjecture. I will not linger at un- necessary length upon this portion of my narra- tive : suffice it to say that I did not pay the least attention to the remainder of the performance, because the playbill showed me that Violet Mor- timer was not again to make her appearance this evening. All the time that the other pieces lasted, I sat with my eyes fixed upon the stage, it is true — but gazing upon vacancy, and literally seeing nothing. I was glad when Charles told me that everything was over : — and when we were all once more seated in the omnibus, I lay back in a cor- ner, wrapped up in the most sorrowing reflections. My fellow-servants thought that I slept through weariness; and during the whole ride they joy- ously discussed the details of the evening's amuse- ments. That night the pUlow on which my aching head reposed, was plenteously moistened with tears ; and fervid were the prayers which I poiu'ed forth, that heaven would extend its shielding influence over Annabel, and save her from those designs — too obviously criminal — which were entertained towards her by Sir Malcolm Wavenham. CHAPTEE XIII. FATHEE AND SON. I CAN scarcely teU how the next two days passed. I walked about like one in a dream — but perform- ing aU my ordinary duties with a kind of me- chanical regularity. My exterior aspect must have been one of xmnatural composure, as my feUow- servants did not observe that there was anything 54 JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. extraordinai'y on my part — save and except Charles linton, who on two or three occasions inquired if I were unwell, as he said that I looked very pale. I answered that I was : whereupon he observed that the heated atmosphere of the crowded theatre had ^n-obably upset me — but that I should recover myself in a vei-y short time. During these two days I revolved a thousand wild plans in my mind in respect to her whose image was ever uppermost in my soul, and in whose welfare I experienced so deep an interest. At one moment I thought of writing to her mother, even at the risk of the letter falling into the hands of the dreaded Lanover : and it was not the fear of this which prevented me — for I would have sacrificed my life for the benefit of Annabel : but I reasoned that the mother herself might have left her home at the same time as the daughter — and that even if it were otherwise, I should be in- terfering in Annabel's affairs in a way which might provoke her indignation against me. A hundred times during each of those two days, did I think of making another attempt to see Annabel : for it would not be difficult to obtain permission to visit the town under pretence of making some neces- sary piu'chase. But here again, that same fear of seeming to be an impertinent meddler with her proceedings, held me back. I thought of Edith, whom I believed to be stUl residing at the adja- cent village ; and I was half inclined to seek out that young lady, tell her everything relative to Annabel, and beseech her good offices on behalf of this fair young creature. But here again would there be direct interference in her affau's : and moreover I knew that Miss Delmar must have sufficient sorrows of her own to engage her atten- tion, without mixing herself up in the piu'suits of another person. In short, whatever plan sug- gested itself to my mind, had to be abandoned : I was bewildered — and knew not how to act. It was the morning of the third day after the visit to the theatre, that one of the footmen, who had been over as usi\al to the town to fetch his lordship's letters from the post-office, came into the servants' hall with an expression of coun- tenance, which showed that he had some intelli- gence to communicate. " What news ?" inquired one of the other domestics. " News ? — i^retty news indeed !" ejaculated the footman. "Such a scene as there was at the theatre last evening !" I was about to leave the room at the moment to perform some task which I had in hand, — when these words, fi-aught with a sudden interest for me, kept me there : but smitten with the presentiment that I wa§ about to hear something relative to her whose image filled my soul, I had the presence of mind to linger at a distance from tlie group of domestics, and to keep my looks averted from them. " A scene at the theatre ?" ejaculated several Toices. . " Yes," answered the footman : " the place was crowded as usual to see Miss Mortimer— but when the time arrived for her appearance, she was not forthcoming. The scene was delayed — the au- dience grew clamorous — and the manager was obliged to come forward and give some explana- tion. All he could say was that Miss Mortimer had not been to the theatre the whole evening : he had sent to her lodgings^she had left them early in the afternoon— and no one knew whither she was gone. The audience would not at first receive this explanation : they fancied there was some trick in it. But soon certain scandalous whispers began circulating about : laughs and jeers broke forth ; and the name of Sir Malcolm Wavenham passed from lip to lip." I remained to hoar no more : already had I heard too much ;— and hastening up to my own ] chamber, I sank upon a seat, weepuig bitterly — violently — convulsively! I mourned as heaven might be supposed to mourn over a fallen angel : the idea of associating the lovely image of Annabel with guilt, was something which appeared to rive my heart to its very core. When, after the first gush of almost mortal anguish, I was capable of deliberate reflection, I remembered how but a few months back I had sat in the chamber at Ravens- hill House, meditating upon Annabel after reading the note which Ifoimd in the purse, — how I vowed that her image, then to me so saint-like and so angelic, should serve as my good genius — and how I indulged in the pleasing conviction that, under all circumstances, Annabel was sure to remain in the path of rectitude. Oh ! had she indeed fallen ? Again went up the voice of agony from my soul, asking this question ! Had she indeed faUcn ? or was it not a hideous dream ? No — it was a fVigl^t- ful reality :— for had not the footman spoken posi- tively ? and was not the catastrophe at which he had hinted, a sequence of the incidents which liad come to my own knowledge ? — I mean the atten- tions that Sir Malcolm Wavenham had paid to Annabel at the theatre, and the discoiu'se which I had overheard between himself and his friend in the narrow dark lane adjoining. But now for an instant — and, alas ! only for an instant — did the idea spring up m my mind that Annabel had pos- sibly fled with Sir Malcolm to become his wife. No : the terms in which the footman had spoken of those scandalous whisperings — those laughings and jeerings, which had occurred on the previous night at tlie theatre, — together with the known dissipated and profligate character of Sir Malcolm Wavenham, — all forbade the thought ■«'ith which for a moment I had endeavoured to cheer myself. I felt as if I had really nothing worth living for in the world ; and if death had come to me then, its presence wovild have been most welcome. But scarcely had I said this to myself, when a secret voice witliin my soul whispered that the thought was a wicked one — and that it was sinful for a human being to wish to anticipate his des- tiny as ordained by Providence, just because another human being had gone astray. I felt that I ought to t.ike coiu-age — to resign myself as mtich as possible to whatsoever amount of sorrow I now experienced on Annabel's account — and that, above_ all things, I must not by my altered de- meanour or saddening looks, lay myself oi^cn to be unpleasantly interrogated by my fellow-servants. Accordingly, having dried my tears, I hastened from, my chamber to attend to my duties, and not without the hope that in the bustle and activity thereof, I might to a certain degree lose the keen sense of extreme affliction. Tor some purpose or another, I had to seek Mr. Eavcnshill's own private a^oartment, — on entering which. I per- JOSEril WIXilOT ; OK, THE MEMOIRS OE A MAN-SEETANT. ceived that gentleman seated at a ttible with his countenance buried in his hands ; and at the mo- ment I opened the door, a convulsire sob met ray ear. It is even a sadder thing to behold a man than a woman weeping. "Women are more inclined to tears for slight causes than members of the sterner SOX ; and it must always be some potent cause of bitter anguish indeed, which can plunge a man into such woe as that wherein I now saw my young master immersed. '• O my God, what a sacrifice ! what a sacrifice !" he ejaculated, suddenly springing up to his feet. " Anything were preferable anything ! aye, even suicide !" These words were uttered with a vehement ex- citement ; and as TValter Ravenshill turned round, he beheld me quickly retiring : for I did not of course like to intrude upon such a sacred scene as that of the xmfortunate young gentleman's excru- ciating anguish. " Stop, Joseph— stop ! come hither !"' he ex- claimed, rushing after me : and as in my confusion and bewilderment, I did not at once show signs of obeying — but, on the contrary, was continuing my retreat, he seized me by the arm, and dragged me into the room. Then, shutting the door and placing Ijis back against it, he demanded in a low hoarse voice, and with a very pale face, — " How long had you been standing there ?" " Only a few instants, sir," was my answer. " Only a few instants ?" he said, repeating my words. " But you heard what fell from my lips .^ Now, Joseph, shall you not mention every parti- cular of this scene to your fellow-servants ?" " Certainly not, sir," I responded energetically. " In order to avoid hearing or seeing more, I was hastening away •" " True !" he observed. " But why did you not knock at the door ?" " I did, sir ; and as no answer was returned. I concluded that no one was here." " And you are sure that you will not mentioii what 3'cu beheld or heard ?" " Xot for the world, sir :" — and then I added with a certain flaming-up of my natural spirit, " I am no spy upon your actions." " "Well, Joseph, I know you are a good boy," continued jNIr. Ravenshill, after a brief pause, during which he contemplated me earnestly. " And now tell me the truth — do not tlic servants talk amongst themselves about the — the — approach- ing marriage ?" — and a ghastly expression of anguish swept over his countenance as he with difficulty brought himself to give utterance to these words. " I hope, sir," was my answer, " that you will njt induce me to become a tell-tale — especially as if I were, you would no longer have the fidl con- fidence that I should forbear speaking of your own concerns." " Ah !" he ejacidated, pressing one of his hands to his brow, " I imderstand but too well that it is 60 ! Yes — yes — I am laughed at and ridiculed behind my back ! By heaven, it is intolerable !" — then, as if suddenly repenting, or rather vexed willi himself that he should thus have given way .to his feelings in my presenco, he caught me by the shoulder, saying in an excited manner, " Do not tiilnk any more, Joseph, of what you have heard fall from my lips ; blot it out from your memory !" "With these words he abruptly quitted the room j and I had no longer any doubt that the unfortu- nate young gentleman regarded with loathing and abhorrence the marriage into which family cir- cumstances were about to force him. That very same evening the Bousteads were to dine at Charlton Hall. They came, a little before seven o'clock, in their gaudy equipage ; and din- ner was almost immediately served up. I had to assist in waiting at table ; and it struck me that Jlrs. Boustoad spoke in a hoarser voice than usual, and with a certain degree of iucoherency. I could not help looking at her ; and I likewise observed that she was drinking a great deal of wine. Pre- ser.tly I saw Euphemia making signs to her mother, when the young lady fancied herself un- perceived by any one else : but Mrs. Boustead paid no attention to them, and actually helped herself to wine— a proceeding of which no well-bred lady is ever guilty. Lord Eavenshill looked uncom- monly grave : her ladyship exchanged with him a rapidly significant glance : Mr. Ravenshill ap- peared downright distressed. As I went out into the hall to fetch something that was needed, I heard one of the footmen say to another, " The old lady is getting quite jolly, and will be blazing di-unk presently." The scene of the morning with Mr. Walter came vividly back to my mind ; and I coidd scarcely wonder at his utter repugnance to form a matrimonial alliance with such a family. "When I ivent back into the dining-room, I heard Euphemia saying, " My dear ma, I am. sure you are unwell : you had much better retire and lie down a little. You know when you do have these dreadful head- aches " ••' Lawk-a-daisy, Phemy, dear !" interrupted Mrs. Boustead, speaking very thick with her hoarse bassoon-like voice ; " I hav'n't got never a head- ncli : I am quite right. Dear me ! what a pretty young page you have got, my lord. "When the event comes off," she added, looking with a sort of half-vacant significancy towards her daughter and the Hon. Mr. Ravenshill, "we must manage to get tlie young couple just such another likely -looking boy, and stick him into a nice livery like that." I felt myself blushing up to the very hair of my head at thus being made the object of Mrs. Bou- stead's remarks ; and turning away towards the side-board, affected to be very busily engaged in arranging the dessert dishes. "By the bye," said Mr. Boustead, most pro- bably catching at the first subject that came into his head, in order to put a stop to his vafe's gar- rulity, — "Ins yoiir ludship heard of Sir Malcolm Wavenham's precious exploit ?" " I cannot say that I have," answered Lord Ravenshill ; and now I was all attention — but painfully and nervously so ; for I was not at a loss to conjecture the subject about to b'e introduced. " Why, he's took away that dancing gal," con- tinued Mr. Boustead, — " Violet Mortimer I mean — which we saw t'other night at the theatre. I wonder you hav'n't heard tell of it : it was the talk of the wliolc town when I was there this morning. And such a shindy as there was at the t!ieatre last night my eyes, such a shindy !" I felt that my emotions were overpowering me 56 JOSEPH WILMOT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF A MAK-SEKVANT. — SO keenly were they re-awakened by the turn which the discourse had thus taken ; and I hurried from the room. My duties however compelled me to go back again in about ten minutes ; and then I found to my infinite relief and satisfaction, that the conversation was progressing on some other topic. Mrs. Boustead was now swaying from side to side on her chair in a visible state of inebriety, I should observe that no other guests were present — which circumstance was doubtless a matter of ineffable self-congratulation on the part of the Eavenshill family. The cloth had been taken off the tabic — the dessert was about to be placed on — when all of a sudden Mrs. Boustead, losing her equilibrium, plumped down upon the carpet. Euphemia screamed — and either faiated in reality, or else thought it requisite to simulate a swoon. The utmost confusion prevailed — the lady's-maids were summoned — and the men- servants hastened to quit the room on a signal from his lordship. But before crossing the thres- hold, I could not help casting a look back upon that deplorable scene. Lady Eavenshill sat as if trans- fixed in her chair : his lordship, who had risen up, looked cold and stern : Mr. Boustead had hiuried to the assistance of his wife, whose turban and false front had fallen off with the tumble : Mr. "Walter was conveying Euphemia to a sofa. In the hall the butler and the footmen who had wit- nessed the scene, hesitated not to express their disgust in no measured terms : but I did not hear a single syllable of pity vouchsafed for their young master. On the contrary, the butler emphatically declared that it served him right for thinking of throwing himself away on the vulgar daughter of such upstart persons. About half-an-hour after- wards the Bousteads' carriage was ordered ; and they took their departure, — Mr, Boustead talking very loud, as he traversed the hall, about "his good lady having fallen into an apoplectic fit, to which she was subject." In the servants' hall nothing was spoken of all the rest of the evening but the incident just re- lated. I myself was much excited by the varied feelings that were agitating within me. The image of Annabel haunted me Uke the pale ghost of her own former pure self; and I was moved with an illimitable compassion for the imfortunate Walter RavenshiU, The discourse of my fellow- domestics increased the painful nature of my feel- ings : my blood was hot and feverish in my veins — my brows throbbed with racking pains, I went forth into the garden to woo the cold night air of February. There was an arbour formed by evergreens ; — and into the darkness of this em- bowering retreat I plunged, as if feeling it neces- sary to seek the completest solitude and seclusion for my torturing reflections. I had not been there many moments, when I suddenly became aware that footsteps were approaching along the gravel-walk; and almost immediately afterwards, other footsteps — more hurried — came from behind the individual who was thus advancing. Then I heard voices. " Walter — ^my dear Walter, do not afflict your- aelf thus !" said Lord Eavenshill, who had thus evidently hastened after his son, " Afflict myself, father ?" ejacxdated my young jmaster, in tones full of bitterness : " how would you have me be consoled ?" They had both stopped short exactly in front of the arbour in which I had plunged myself; — but hoping that they would speedily pass on, I did not choose to issue forth at once and thus make them, aware that I had overheard a single syllable of what was being said. But there they remained; and as the impassioned dialogue went on, I felt that it was too late to emerge thence — as they would natui-ally be angry that I should havo tarried even for a single moment, I was thus against my will rendered a listener of all that took place, " How would you have me be consoled, father 'i" repeated Walter Ravenshill, with a degree of anguished bitterness that it was very sad to associate with one who was thus in tlie sprLug- time of his existence. " Look at the fearful sacrifice I am called upon to consummate ! Even if the girl were the loveliest of her sex, and her- self a model of gentle breeding and polished courtesy, it would still be a horror to enter that family ! No, father — I cannot do it ! Ruiu may overtake us— your creditors may seize upon every- thing — we may be driven forth from the home of our ancestors — but even this would be a less painful degradation than the necessity of my taking such a wife, and calling such a man my father-in-law — such a woman my mother-in-law !" " Walter, do not speak thus !" said Lord Ra- venshill, in a tone of the most earnest entreaty. " Think you not that I feel it all as much as you ? think you not that my heart bleeds at the idea of this alliance ? Yes — indeed it does ! But what is to be done ? The alternatives are before you. On the one hand immediate ruin for us all — on the other hand marriage with this girl." " Marriage with that girl!" exclaimed Walter, with augmenting vehemence. "No— I tell you, father, it is impossible ! And now hear me. I am young — and the world is before me. You have interest, and can procure for me a Govern- ment_ situation — a diplomatic post — or at least a commission in the Army, I would sooner remain poor, than marry that girl as the condition of becoming rich, I am decided — nothing shall change me; and to-morrow you can write to Mr. Boustead to inform him of my resolve." "And to-morrow, when this shall be known," answered Lord Eavenshill, in a low deep voice, " there will be an execution put into the house. The creditors are merely holding back \mder the promise of having their demands liquidated when this marriage takes place," "Then let the creditors come !" ejaculated Wal- ter passionately — almost fiercely, " Why am I to be sacrificed to stave them off ? Look you, father I — the ruin which is about to fall upon our house, if not commenced by you, will at least have been consummated by you. The very day that I came of age, you asked me to sign certain papers, with the assurance that they were mere formahties necessary on the part of your heir. I did so. I troubled myself not to read their contents — I did not think that my own father would rob, and phmder, and defraud me !" "Walter!" exclaimed the nobleman: "these words " " Oh, they may be harsh — but they are true !" exclaimed the young gentleman, with a still in- creasing storm of anguished passion, " Yes — they JOSEPH WILMOT ; OE, THE MEMOIES OF A MAN-SERVANT. 57 are true ; and you know it ! Kd you make any sacrifice for me ? did you tell me frankly and can- didly the difficulties of your position ? did you oflfer to go abroad for some years, that the estate might be nursed ? did you propose to put down a single carriage or sell a single horse ? did you suggest the propriety of breaking up one of the three esta- blishments ? did you, in a word, volunteer the most trilling reduction of your own expenditure to pay off the terrific liabilities which were engulfing the property that is my birthright, and which I ought at your death to receive free and imencum- bered ? No — nothing of all this did you do ! Far from it. But you induced me to sign documents rendering me a joint contractor with yourself in I ruinous mortgages : and then, as soon as my eyes were opened to the fatal truth, what alterna- ■ tive was there but that I should plxmge recklessly 'v onward in the descending path where your foul treachery had placed my footsteps ? This has been your conduct, father !" "Walter, Walter — I conjure you, spare me!'^ interrupted the wretched nobleman, in the convuls- iag voice of shame, remorse, and anguish. « jfo — hear me out !" continued the son, now stem and implacable in the vehemence of his ex- cited feelings and his infuriate rage -. " hear mo out, I say — and then you will see how little reason, you have to reproach me for the decision to which I have come ! I repeat, therefore, that not one single sacrifice did you yourself offer to make. AH on your part was selfishness — aye, intense selfish- ness : and on my mother's too ! Yes— egotism was at the bottom of the conduct of both. That yo might maintain your state and dignity, your son was led week after week, and month after month, to pledge his birthright in detail — to make away with it parcel by parcel— to eeU himself by degrees to 58 JOSEPH WII-MOT; OE, THE StEMOIES OF A MAN-SEEYAITT. the black demon of Euin, as a man in desperation sells period after period of his life to Satan ! No — not a single sacrifice on your part ! — but I am to make ten thousand ! ^d now you think to render this hideous marriage the eroivning one of all ? But it shall not be." '•' Walter, you asked me to listen to you," replied Lord Eavenshill, in a tremulous and almost broken voice ; " and I have done so. But now hear me. Yes — I confess that I have been guilty of some wrongs towards you ; and, thank heaven ! we are thus speaking in the dark, so that a father may be saved the painful humiUation of having to blush in the presence of his son. But still you have viewed my conduct in the severest Hght, and have painted it in the blackest colour. You have gone too far. Think you that if your mother and myself sought to sustain a certain position, it was for ourselves alone ? No — it was still more for you. Oh ! can you not imagine that your poor mother and myself have passed many and many a sleepless night — have endured many and many an hour of poignant agony — when we have been compelled to envisage the difficulties of our position ? But our hope still was that you — with your handsome person, your fine intellect, your courtly manners, and the proud name you were destined at my death to bear, would amend all by a brilliant alliance." "And this" ejaculated Walter, in thrilling tones of bitterest scorn and keenest irony — " this is the brilliant alliance you have found for me Bou- stead's daughter !" Here the young man sent forth a loud and mocking laugh, which rang with the horrible sar- donism of a very fiend. It was a laugh such as in the extreme of despair would be wrung from a breaking heart in defiance of a threat holding out the infliction of some fresh misfortune : it was indeed one of those laughs wljich grate along all the nerves, make the blood run cold in the veins, and cause the soul to shudder at the frightful potency of passion whereof the human mind is capable. "Walter, you will drive me mad!" exclaimed Lord Eavenshill : and I heard his foot stamp upon the frozen pathway. " Drive you mad ?" cried Walter, in that same tone of bitterest irony. " I am mad already ! Now, father, it is useless for us to remain in con- versation here. My resolve is taken, and you know what it is." " Then Usten, Walter !" rejoined the nobleman : And for a few instants there was a solemn pause, which was broken by his lordship's voice soxmdiug, deep and hollow in its accents, as he said, '•'Adhere to your resolve, if you wUl : but mistake not the warning I am about to give. You will be the murderer of your father !" An ejaculation of horror burst from the lips of Walter Eavenshill. " Yes," the nobleman went on to say: " do not mistake me ! Within the very same hour that the baiUifs take possession of Charlton Hall, do I put a period to my existence. Now, Walter, have you the courage — have you the heartlessness to drive me to this horrible catastrophe ?" " No, my God — no i" exclaimed the wretched young man, in accents of wildest anguish, but no longer fraught ^^ith irony nor sardonism : "■ not for ■worlds would I do this I But is there no way. father, of extricating ourselves from this web of difficulties which is closing in around us, save by the consummation of that hated aUiance ?" '• None, Walter," was the response, — " unless another and a better bride could be found, with a quarter of a million as a dower, and another quar- ter of a million in the perspective : for this is the wealth which Boustead's daughter wiU bring." " Another bride ?" said Walter, slowly and musingly repeating his father's words : then with a sudden outburst of excitement, he cried, " Oh, that I had but a few months' respite ! — oh that I had but another chance of rendering myself accept- able to some wealthy damsel whose appearance, whose manners, and whose family would not dis- grace us ! Father," continued Mr. Eavenshill, his voice suddenly sinking into the more subdued tone of dehberate seriousness, " there is a matrimonial field which I have left unexplored. If the daugh- ters of the aristocracy be for the most part por- tionless, — those of bankers, merchants, and wealthy London citizens are not so. Some of these families are as well brought up and almost as refined as those of the sphere to which we belong " " True, Widter !" ejaculated Lord Eavenshill, as if pleased with the idea thus suggested. " Ah ! you consent that I shall essay this one chance of delivering myself from the necessity of marrying Boustead's daughter ? Look you, father," continued Walter ; " my proceedings are plain and easy. I return to London without breaking off the present engagement : if within a few months I form an aUiance better suited to my tastes, and equally eligible in a pecuniary sense, we shall be satisfied nay, more, we shall be happy. But if I fail, then must I adopt the alternative of j espousing Boustead's daughter ; and in the mean- time I shall at least have sufficient leisure to reflect upon what may be my probable destiny, and thus be enabled to meet it with more courage than I can now display. Do you approve of my plan, father ? — and do you not think that you can make sufficient excuses to the Bousteads to postpone the wedding-day for a few months, as well as to account for my absence during the interval, in such a man- ner that they may not suspect what is going on?" " All this would be easy enough," repUed Lord Eavenshill, "if the creditors themselves would wait. They are anxiously looking forward for next month, when it is presvmied the nuptials are to take place." "I can suggest a plan!" eagerly interrupted Walter. "'Let a paragraph be inserted, in the county newspapers to the effect that ' the nuptials of the Hon. Walter Eavenshill with the beautiful and aecomphshed daughter of Titus Boustead, Esq., the eminent contractor, are postponed until the first week of August, in consequence of a death in the family of Lord Eavenslull.' Let such a paragraph, I say, be inserted : the vanity of the Bousteads wiU be tickled by it — the creditors will have patience. They will eay to themselves that the marriage is really to take place ; and that in respect to then- claims it is a mere matter of time, with the certainty of eventual settlement. Cannot all this be done, dear father r" The contrast between the tone which Walter EavenshUl was now adopting towards his tire, and that which but a little time back he had been JOSEPH TVILMOT ; OB, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAJf-SERVAXT. 59 using, was very marked and striking,— it being evident that he in his turn was now calling cajolery to his aid in order to obtain his ends. I heard Lord EavcnshiU give his assent to all the details of the scheme suggested by "Walter; and then they walked away together, still fiirther discussing the proposed arrangements as they leisurely re- traced their steps to the house. I then emerged from my place of concealment ; and hurrying up to my own chamber, retired to rest. But it was long ere sleep visited my eyes : my mind was tossed upon the agitated sea of varied thoughts, — in which the image of Annabel, the disgraceful conduct of Mrs. Boustead, and the discreditable machiuations of Lord Eavenshill and his son were blended and jumbled together. CHAPTER XIV. A DBVOWSHIEE SUPEESTITION. On the second morning after that discourse which I had overheard, the Hon. Mr. Walter EavenshiU took his departure for London, attended by his valet Charles Linton ; and it was rumoured at the HaU and in the neighbourhood, that a very dis- tant relative of the EavenshiU family — from whom the family itself entertained some pecuniary ex- pectations — had just died in the metropoHs. But his lordship hinted to one of his valets, and her ladyship to her maids, that this deceased relation was of too remote a kinship to render it necessary for the family to go into mourning : and thus the falsehood being told, an equally deceptive pretext was rendered necessary for the avoidance of what would have been a most impious mockery. Little did Lord and Lady Eavenshill think that there was one beneath their roof who could have xm- masked their hypocrisy if he had chosen : but it was not my busLuess to say a word,— the more especially as I had only become possessed of the secret by an accident, which, if I opened my lips, might be construed into a wilful and impertinent eaves-dropping. I must now remark that the seat of Sir Malcobn Wavenham was about three miles distant from the Hall, and only one mile beyond the little vil- lage of Charlton itself. In the course of a few days after the incidents just related, I overheard some of the servants talking about Sir Malcolm ; and I thus discovered that he was for the present staying in Exeter with her who was denominated Violet Mortimer. Exeter, as already stated, was about twenty miles from the Hall; and thus, even if I stiU entertained the idea of making another attempt to see the Baronet's victim, and persuade her to abandon the path of frailty, — the distance would have precluded the execution of the design. I did not however harbour the pro- ject : I said to myself that if Annabel was weak and criminal enough thus to yield to temptation, no words which I might utter would endow her with strength or re-imbue h^ with the virtue sufficient to emancipate herself from the ways of transgression. Moreover, I should have dreaded to meet, xmder such circumstances, the being whom I had known in her purity, and whom my boyish heart had learnt to love so fondly. I therefore resigned myself, as well as I was able, to the weight of my sorrow ; and endeavoured to the best of my ability, to banish Annabel's image from my thoughts but, alas ! this was not so easy. Weeks went by — they grew into months — the trees began putting forth their verdure again, the singing of birds joyously proclaiming the presence of Spring. The primrose grew upon the banks— the violet veiled its more modest beauties under the green hedges. AU this while the Hon. !Mr. Walter Eavenshill remained absent : the Boustcads continued to visit at the Hall : not a whisper circulated as to the possibility or probability of the match being broken off; and the creditors continued patient as well as obliging. Often and often did I think of visiting Charlton again, in order to pay my respects to !Miss Dehnar : but feeling how much she must be afflicted, I dreaded to show myself in her presence. As for the amount of success which Mr. EavenshiU was ex- periencing in the metropolis with regard to his matrimonial researches, I had no means of ob- taining any information, even if I were curious on the point, — my friend Charles Linton being absent with his master. Thus time wore on — and the month of June arrived. One forenoon, I was rambling by myself during a leisure hour or two along the bank of the stream, when I suddenly heard the sound of voices speak- ing loudly and in a very excited manner. They evidently came from some little distance a-head of where I was walking at the time ; end a group of trees, growing on the bank — thei: overhanging boughs dipping in the crystal waters — concealed from view the persons whose voice 3 thus reached my ears. Judging however by the excited accents that something unusual was taking place — and even fearing, as the voices swelled into cries, that it was an accident of a serious character — I sped alofig, scrambling through the trees and the un- derwood. The instant that I emerged on the other side, I beheld a scene which I shall not readily for- get. Five or six labouring men were dragging forth a corpse from the stream, which was exceed- ingly deep and ran very rapid in that part of the estate. The corpse was that of a yoimg labourer whom I knew well by sight, and had often seen passing through the grounds. His name was Ben- jamin Cowper ; and he lived with his parents in the village of Charlton. His father — an old man of past sixty— was amongst those whom I thus descried upon the bank ; and when the corpse was drawn forth, the bereaved parent flung himself upon it with such heart-rending lamentations that the tears, bursting from my eyes, blinded me for a few moments. The unfortimate young man was dressed in all his clothes ; and therefore I at once concluded that he must have fallen in by accident, and being unable to swim, was disowned im- less, indeed, it were an act of suicide : but, as I subsequently ascertained, for this belief there was not the shghtest ground. It was within half a mile of the village that the dreadful discovery was made ; and I learnt the few following facts from one of those who had just dragged forth the corpse. It appeared that on the preceding evening, Ben- jamin Cowper did not return home at his usual hour from labour; and this was considered the 60 JOSEPH WIIMOT ; OK, THE MESTOIES OP A MA.K-SERTAST. more extraordinary, inasmuch as lie -was very re- gular in liis habits, an exceeding steady young man, and had made a particular appoiatment with a yoimg woman, named Catherine Allen, to take her out for a walk. The young couple were engaged to each other ; and it was at the cottage of Ben- jamin's parents that she was waiting for him. As hour after hour passed — night came — and he re- turned not, the most serious apprehensions were entertained. He was sought for in the village alehouse, though but little accustomed to cross its threshold : but he was not there — neither had he visited it. Hurried calls were made at the neigh- bours' abodes : but all in vain. The Eev. Mr. Howard, learning of this mysterious disappearance, went out with several of the villagers to search amidst the adjacent fields, — thinking that possibly the missing one might have fallen down in a fit. Far into the night was the search protracted — but all in vain : the anguish of the parents and poor Catherine continued vmxeheved. In the morning the search was resumed: the villagers divided themselves into scouring parties for the purpose — the missing yoimg man's father accompanying one of the bands. It was this particular party which — ^whUe passing along the bank of the stream, where, as before said, it was wider, deeper, and more rapid than elsewhere — beheld the corpse lying on the pebbly bed at the bottom. Thus did I arrive upon the spot at the very instant the unfortunate young man was dragged forth. Never shall I forget the anguish of that be- 1 reaved father ! It displayed itself not merely in the bitterest lamentations, but also with a pathos which would have moved the hardest heart. But now the deep and touching interest of this tragic scene was to experience a new phase, and to de- velop fresh features of indescribable woe. Two females who had followed this searching party, came vip to the spot : — frantically flying thither, did they come, having seen from a distance enough of the ominous proceedings to make them suspect what had oeciurred. One of these women was the drowned man's mother : the other his betrothed Catherine. The latter was a fine, tall, stout, buxom girl — and might even be pronoxmced hand- some. She was not above eighteen; and as I subsequently learnt, was naturally of the gayest and liveliest disposition in the village — ^full of ex- uberant spirits — but of a purity of conduct which never had afforded the slightest scope for the ma- lignity of scandal. She was a good young woman — an orphan Hving with an old aunt, who kept a small shop, and whom Catherine industriously as- sisted in the Uttle household and the business. The two poor women — mother and betrothed — threw themselves upon the dead body of the loved and lost one with an anguish and an agony as great as that which the father had experienced — and was indeed stUl experiencing. Again did the tears trickle down my cheeks as I contemplated that scene ; and I believe that amongst the assem- bled villagers, not an eye-lash was di-y. But I was presently struck by the bitter self-accusings that mingled with the lamentations which the un- fortunate Catherine sent forth. "Oh, it was my fault !" she wildly cried: "it is a judgment of heaven upon me for my wicked- ness ! Oh, the impious folly of which I was guUtyJ— oh, the sinful attempt to penetrate the future ! It was my fault ! I have provoked heaven's wrath! — it is done to punish me — and for that purpose he is made the victim ! "Wretched, wretched creature that I am !" The kind-hearted villagers gathered aroimd the almost frenzied girl ; and in their own rude but well-meaning manner, said what they could to console her. Afflicted as I myself was with this heart-rending scene, I could not help observing that Catherine's passionate self-accusings produced no surprise upon these men — but that, on the con- trary, they appeared fully to comprehend what she meant : for they exchanged gloomy and signi- ficant looks amongst themselves, — shaking their heads solemnly, too, in mournful as well as awful corroboration of the poor girl's words. " Alas, alas, Katy !" said the bereaved mother, in a broken voice and amidst torrents of tears, " that you should have done that 1 Oh, fatal Midsummer's Eve ! My poor boy is gone — the life is out of him ! But we will not reproach you, Katy — we all know how you loved him " Here her voice was choked with sobs .: and for some minutes not another intelligible word was spoken by either of the three mourners: they mingled their tears, their convulsing grief, and their agonizing moans. At length, these first paroxysms of inefiable agony having somewhat subsided, the villagers gently but firmly drew the father, the mother, and Kate AUen away from the corpse, — over the countenance of which one of them threw his garment. Then the mournful procession towards the village was formed: but I could not endm-e the spectacle any longer — I had already seen enough to cause my heart to ache for a long time to come. I turned away; and retracing my steps with a profound melancholy in my soul, took the nearest path to the Hall,— avoiding the bank of the stream with a kind of vague and ominous dread of those crystal waters which were so deep and rapid there. At a short distance from the spot where the scene had taken place, I sat down on the step of a stUe to compose my feelings, if possible, before I returned to the house. I fell into such a train of melancholy re- flection that I observed not how time was passing — and must have tarried there at least an hour, not having the energy to rise up and continue my way. I was aroused from that painful dreaminess of thought, by the sounds of footsteps approaching along the pathway leading from the village. I rose up — and beheld one of the labouring men who had assisted to drag forth the corpse. " It's a sad, sad thing," he said, with the gloomiest sorrow depicted upon his honest sun- bm-nt countenance : and he himself was a young good-looking man, somewhat resembling his drowned comrade. " Such woe and tribulatior* as there is in the village ! I could endure the sight no longer, and was forced to come away. Ah ! it's a pity that Kate should have ever done what she did ! — but she'll never again be the gay and happy being she was. If this isn't the death of her at once, she'll pine away slowly and sink down by degrees into the grave." " It was indeed a most melancholy spectacle," I observed : then, after a pause, I said with some httle degree of hesitation — for the subject ap- peared too painful a one to be prolonged for the mere gratification of curiosity, — "What meant JOSEPH WILMOT ; OB, THE MEiroiES OF A jrAX-SEEVANT. 61 those bitter self-accusings of the poor ghl ? and why did you just now say that it were better if she had not done it ?" "Ah! it is a sad history altogether," responded the man: "but I'll explain what you want to know." He seated himself on the stile, and I resumed my place upon the step : then, after an interval of mournful reflection, he related in his own peculiar dialect the following extraordinary nar- rative, which I do not however attempt to give in that provincial phraseology. "Last Midsummer's Eve there was a goodly party of us assembled at the Cowpers' cottage : for it was the old man's sixty -fourth birthday; and Mr. Howard — that's our minister, you know — had sent him the wherewithal to make merry. Kate was of course there; and with her joyous spirits and her innocent mirth, she seemed the l&e and soul of the little party. We had a good supper — I think there were altogether ten or a dozen of us; and the cup went roimd often cnoiigh to make us cheerful, without doing us any harm. Well, it was a little past eleven o'clock — and I don't know how the conversation took such a turn, or who was the first that broached the subject — but I remember well that we found our- selves talking about fairies, and pixies, and all the little elfin people that are supposed to haunt cer- tain spots. Some expressed their belief in the existence of these beings: others ridiculed the notion — and amongst these was Ben Cowper him- self. But no one spoke more emphatically in this latter sense, than did Kate Allen. She laughed outi'ight at the idea of putting faith in those things — and declared that she never was super- stitious, and never could be. Her lover echoed all her sentiments: and the subject was argued amongst us in a manner that deepened into se- riousness, but in perfect good-feeling : for wherever Kate was, it was impossible to lose one's temper. Gradually the discourse turned upon spectres, ap- paritions, and ghosts: several tales were told of remarkable occurrences in connexion therewith : but here again Kate Allen and Ben Cowper were altogether incredulous. They vowed that the cir- cumstances detailed were mere coincidences, or else the effects of imagination. This point was like- wise argued with increasing seriousness, and still in a friendly spirit. One person present observed that he would not for worlds walk through the churchyard at midnight ; whereupon Kate repUed that she would not hesitate to do so : but she did not say it in a vain-glorious or improperly boast- ful manner — it was the genuine expression of a courageous mind. Another of the party suddenly remarked that it was Midsummer's Eve : and this observation reminded us all of a particular belief associated with that night. This is to the effect that if any one at midnight, on the eve of Mid- summer Day, looks into a church, he wlU see those persons who, being known to him, are destined to die within the ensuing twelve months, walk slowly throxigh the interior of the building. This superstition, which very generally prevails in Devonshire — and I believe in other parts of England — was repudiated by Kate Allen and her lover as energetically as the previously discussed questions; and as the greater number of those present were firm believers on the point, Kate offered to repair to the church, look through one of the windows as the clock was striking twelve, and thus convince us that there was no ground for the superstition. We were aU so much in- terested in the matter, that as far as I recollect, very few remonstrances were offered; and Kate accordingly set out. Before she left the cottage — which is within a stone's throw of the church- yard — she proposed that two or three of us should follow at a distance and assure ourselves that she did not shrink from the performance of what she had volunteered : but we knew that we could take her word — and so we decided on remaining where we were." Here the narrator of this episode paused for a few minutes : and I awaited with intense ciiriosity and interest the continuation of the story. Speak- ing in a tone of increased solemnity, he resumed his tale as follows :— " Kate went forth. It was a beautiful night— the stars were shining brightly — and one could almost see to read in the open air. From the cottage-window the old church might be viewed with its ivy-covered tower : but the wall bordering the churchyard being high, we could not see Kate making her way amidst the tombstones. After she had left us, the conversation ceased — a certain feeling of solemn awe came over most of us — and I believe that several present felt sorry that the young damsel had been suffered to proceed upon her enterprise. Such was not, however, the senti- ment of her lover, Ben Cowper, who, on the con- trary, was proud of his betrothed's courage : but it was the feeling of his parents — and I know that it was also mine. About ten minutes after Kate left us, the church-clock began to proclaim the hour of midnight. We sat silent, some of us exchanging significant glances, which methought were sombre and gloomy. Another ten minutes passed by ; and then we beheld Kate issuing forth from the churchyard and approaching the cottage. Ben Cowper and myself were gazing from the window ; and it struck me that instead of walking with her usual airy and lightly tripping pace, she advanced slowly and with a certain appearance of solemnity. As she passed by the window too, methought her face was pale ; and when she entered the room, all eyes were at once centred upon her. She teas pale, and evidently troubled — although she strove to conceal her feeUngs. Her first words were, ' Did any body play me a trick ? who left the room during my absence ?' — and she spoke with tremu- lous accents. The question she thus put, caused great excitement and suspense, not even excepting Ben; for we all felt assured that something had reaUy happened. Old Mr. Cowper, speaking for the rest, positively declared that no one had left the cottage while she was away. Her eyes settled upon Ben in a searching manner : he repeated his father's assurance — and poor Kate, no longer able to restrain her feelings, sank down upon a chair bursting into tears. We were all very much afflicted by this spectacle ; and the girl's lover, now reproaching himself bitterly for having allowed her to go to the chiirch, conjured her in the most affectionate manner to conquer her emotions. Eepeating an argument on which she herself had so much insisted when the subject of ghosts was previously discussed, he said that whatever had happened could only have been fancy on her part. 62 JOSEPH \^rrLMOT; OE, the MEMOIES op a MAJf-gEEVATTT, Suddenly Triping away the tears, Kate appeared to grow calm : but aereral minutes elapsed before she would explain the cause of her preTious excite- ment. Then, what she did say was in a few words, amount Lng only to this : — ' that as she looked through the church-window, she saw the form of a man piss close by that window, but within the church; and that she did not recognise his face.' No one pressed her for any farther explanations ; though wc saw plainly enough that she had not told all — and we were at no loss to conjecture what it was she had left unsaid. The party broke up gloomy and out of spirits : and we with- drew to our respective homes. For some weeks I thought that Kate Allen was not the same smiling light-hearted girl she used to be ; but by degrees this impression on my mind wore oflf — she recovered her wonted spirits — and the incident, which at first had made some little stir in the -village, ceased to be spoken of. One day, — it must have been about three mouths ago, — I and Ben Cowper had work to do in the same field ; and while talking together, the occurrence I have been relating was somehow or another re- vived. He then told me that it was five or six weeks after ilidsummcr's Eve before he coidd get out of Kate what she reaUy had seen on that par- ticular night : but at length she had yielded to his entreaties and given the fullest explanations. What she said was that she did recognise the countenance of the figure that passed the window inside the church : for that while so passing, it turned its face towards her — and that face was as pale as the dead ! It was the face of Ben Cowper himself. But at the time that Kate thus completed her narrative to her lover, she said that having since reflected upon the incident, she felt assured it was only her fancy ; and she moreover confessed that on passing through the churchyard — finding herself amongst the tombstones and th; green graves — then hearing the solemn striking of the clock — and looking into the church, the very gloom of which was displayed by the star-light pouring in, —she was seized with a superstitious awe which but a few minutes previously she had little imagined herself to be capable of experiencing. It was therefore, she thought, that under this iniluence her imagination had conjured up before her the being who was oftenest in her mind, and concerning whose welfare she was naturally so solicitous. Such were the explanations which she gave to Ben Cowper soon after the occurrence, and which he recited to me three months ago. He himself entertained exactly the same view of the matter ?~ Kate did, — attributing it all to her fancy; and therefore the incident did not trouble him in the least : for he never had been inclined to super- stition. I can't say that I was equally well satis- fied upon the point : but of course I pretended to be — as I would not for the world frighten either Ben Cowper or Kate Allen by seeming to attach any importance to the aifair. When last night I heard that Bon was missing, the thought flashed to my mind in a moment that something was wrong, and that Kate woxild have to pay too dear, poor girl ! for her freak of last Midsummer's Eve. So it has proved ; and I don't think she will ever get over it." When the man had ceased speaking, I sat pon- dering for several minutes upon the extraordinary tale he liad related. I myself was far from being superstitious. Mr. and Mrs. Nelson, at the school where I was brought up, had always discouraged such a tendency on the part of the pupils— and had frequently laboured to prove that there were no such things as spectral visitations from the dead, nor warnings of a preternatural character. I therefore concluded that it was in reality only the eflfect of an excited imagination on Kate Allen's part; though the accidental death of her lover within the year, might seem to give it a more awfully solemn compbxion. Besides, I thought to myself that whether Kato had gone to the church or not, this same fatal accident would have occur- red all the same, whatsoever cause had pro- duced it; and that it would be questioning the justice of heaven to suppose that the decree for the young man's premature death had gone forth as a punishaient for any act of thoughtless im- piety or daring levity on the part of his betrothed. '■ Is it surmised," I asked, at length breaking sdence, " how the poor young man came to be drowned ?" '• Yes," was the labourer's response. " Ben was in the habit of setting lines to catch eels ; and the knowledge that he did so, made me and my com- rades just now follow the bank of the stream when we were on the search. It is to be supposed that Ben, on his way home last evening, tarried to lay his lines and fell in : but whether his foot slipped, or wliether he was seized with a fit, can never be known. Poor fellow! it ia a sad affair — a very sad affair." With these words, the kind-hearted peasant wished me " good day," and struck across the fields — whUe I pursued the path leading back to Charl- ton HaU. On reaching the house, I told my fellow- servant 3 all that had happened; and the' tragic circumstances furnished ample food for con- versation, not merely during the rest of that day, but for several days to come. CHAPTER XV. MIDSXTMMEE'S BVB. The lamentable incident produced a great im- pression upon my mind; and I could not help very frequently meditating upon it. I reviewed aU the arguments which my ingenuity suggested, to prove that the spectral apparition in the church '-.as mere fancy on Kate Allen's part, and that her lover's death within the year was to be ac- counted for as one of those singular occurrences which, while appearing to be the fulfilment of a previous warning, in reaUty belong only to the chapter of accidents. But there was nevertheless within /ny mind a certain imeasy and superstitious doubt as to the vaUdity of those arguments. The domestics were allowed access to certain shelves of books in his lordship's hbrary; and I searched amongst the volumes for any works which I could find treating of supernatural appearances. I dis- covered several ; and the longer I read, the greater was the avidity with which I devoured their con- tents. I was astonished at the seeming authenti- cation of several of the narratives which I thus perused : I had never before imagined that there oOSEPH -WllSrOT; OU, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SEKVAKT. 63 •were any accounts of that nature vvliicli appeared t3 b3 so genuine. For instance, revelations made by the spirits of the departed to theb survivors in this life, had proved the means of -mils being discovered — had led to lawsuits — and had come under the cognizance of legal tribunals : whUe the persons seeking to benefit themselves by these appeals to justice, could not possibly have ob- tained the information on vyhich the suits were brought, save and except by preternatural reveal- ings. I found, moreover, that the idea of appa- ritions being seen only at night, and never by more than one person at a time, was a mere vulgar error — that is to say, if the accounts in these books could be relied upon : for here were niunerous instances of spiritual types of departed persons being seen in the broad daylight and by several individuals assembled. In short, the Tolumes which I thus greedily devom'ed, — stag- gered, bewildered, and amazed me. I did not like to admit, even to myself, a complete con- cession to the mass of evidence contained therein : but yet I did not see how it could reasonably be rejected. I am not ashamed to admit that for the time being I was not merely staggered by that course of reading into which I thus plonged — but I was more or less unnerved by it. When I retu-ed to my chamber at night, the least unusual noise be- fore the candle was put out, would make me start and glance around with a vague di-ead of behold- ing something terrible : and when stretched ia bed, and with the light extinguished, I was a long time before I could get to sleej?, every now and then opening my eyes with the shuddering fear of beholding a white face looking in at me through the curtains. My mind was thus to a certain ex- tent fevered — my imagination rendered morbid : vainly did I wrestle against the superstitious be- lief which was gradually obtaining a firmer hold upon me — I felt that my thoughts in this respect had aU become changed under the influence of the books I had been reading. Deeply did I regret that I ever read them at all ; and every night on seeking my chamber, I vowed that I would not return to them. But on the following day an ir- resistible feeling of morbid curiosity led me back to the same study ; and when I could find no fresh works of the same character to peruse, I re-read the most remarkable narratives in those which had already gained my attention. Thus a belief in preternatural warnings and spiritual apparitions was taking a strong hold upon my mind. It will be remembered that the tragic occur- rence which has occupied the preceding chapter, took place at the commencement of June. Tlu-ee weeks passed away; and as the incidents I have next to record, must be particularized as to date, it is necessary to observe that it was the S3rd of Jime whereof I am about to write. On that day a rural festival was given by the Bousteads, at which Lord and Lady Eavenshill had promised to be present, they still keeping up their intimacy with Euphemia's parents — a circumstance, by the bye, from which I argued that Mr. Walter's search after a rich wife in the metropolis, was not pro- gressing as favourably as he could wish. On this particular day, however, of which I am speaking, my lord and her ladyship proceeded at about 'Jeven o'clock in the forenoon to the Bousteada' residence : and it was therefore a sort of holiday for the greater number of the servants. I had nothing particular to do ; and having for the past three weeks spent all my leisure time in reading, I resolved to recreate myself with a good walk. I really felt that I required it ; for my spirits were desponding — my natural gaiety had left me : I was a i)rey to gloomy thoughts by day, and to super- stitious fears by night. It was about noon when I issued forth by myself; and after a little reflection, I determined to stroll across to Charlton. I had two objects in this proceeding : one was to inquire how poor Kate Allen bore her dreadful loss — the other was to ascertain if Miss Debnar was stUl in that village. For I now thought that I might pay my respects to her, if she were : I felt that it would do me good in one sense to see that dear kind young lady again, — though in another it might wound my heart by the spectacle of her affliction. Neverthe- less, I natm-ally argued that the bitterness of her woe must have experienced some mitigation during the many months which had now elapsed since the mm-der of Mr. Debnar; and at all events I considered that to see Edith was a duty which ought no longer to be delayed. True, it was but a humble liveried page who entertained this idea, which may look like presxunption : but I expe- rienced the liveUest gratitude towards that yoxrng lady, and was anxious to prove it. I accordingly walked across to Charlton. It woxild be impossible to conceive a more sweetly pictiu-esque village than this appears in the sum- mer time, — almost completely embowered as it is in emerald verdure. The cottages, though of humblest aspect, look not merely neat, but cheerful with the jasmine and roses climbing over their porticoes, and the clematis shading the little lattice windows: — the stream, flowing through the village, and becoming broader the nearer it draws to its point of confluence with the rivei', adds to the beauty of the landscape ; and the old-fashioned water-mill, with its comfortable homestead adjoining, consti- tutes a feature which an artist woidd be careful not to omit. On entering the village I first re- paired to the churchyard, which indeed was in my way; and there I lingered for some Uttle time, reading the quaint epitaphs, alike in prose and verse, which did more honoiu' to the hearts than to the heads of the mourners who had caused them to be inscribed upon the stones marking the resting-places of the loved and lost ones. Pre- sently a grave which had only been recently filled up, arrested my attention ; and though no stone was as yet placed there as an index of who slept beneath, I nevertheless felt assured that the newly- arranged turfs covered the remains of the unfor- tunate Benjamin Co^vpcr. While I was stiU regarding that grave, I heard the gate of the churchyard creak on its hinges ; and glancing in that direction, I beheld a young female in deep mourning enter the enclosure. It was Catherine Allen : I recognised her at once But, good heavens, how altered ! On the day that I saw her for tlie first time, three weeks back, she was a fine stout damsel : and though I had beheld her under the utmost disadvantage, — convulsed with grief over the corpse of her lover, — yet it was then by no means difficult to estimate the amount of her personal attractions when in her wonted niood of 64 JOSEPH •WILMOT; OB, THE MEMOrES OF A MAN-SEEVANT. cheerfulness. But, alas ! that cheerfulness •was gone, never to return : her beauty was blighted — the colour had forsaken her cheeks — she looked as if she had passed through the anguished sufferings of years, so great a -vrreck had three short weeks made of this recently blithe and buxom creature ! She advanced with the slow pace of a mourner : full well I knew that she was approaching the grave wherein all her earthly hopes of happiness were interred ; and from a feeling of respect for the sanctity of a grief which might not be in- truded upon, I hastened to a little distance. She did not see me ; or if she did, paid no particular attention to my presence within the enclosure appropriated to the dead. I could not help linger- ing for a few minutes to observe her. For a short while she stood motionless as a statue by the side of the grave — her eyes bent down upon it, and her hands joined in a drooping manner before her : then, aU of a sudden, a sob burst forth, so loud in its convulsing anguish that it reached my ears ; — and falling on her knees, she threw herself over the grave, giving vent to the most passionate lamentations. My first imp\ilse was to hasten and raise her up : but then recurred the thought that her's was a grief of a sanctity not to be in- truded upon; and this idea held me back. I issued from the churchyard by the opposite gate from that through which she had entered; and wiped the tears from my face as I passed on into the village. I had no need now to inquire how Kate Allen bore her loss: my eyes and ears had furnished me with evidence — alas ! too painful— that it was beyond endurance. I made my way to the parsonage, which was in the close viciaage of the church, and which stood in the midst of a spacious and well-kept garden. A female-servant was issuing forth at the instant that I reached the gate ; and as she wore a half-mourning dress, I judged that she belonged to the establishment of the Rev. Mr. Howai'd. I accordingly inquired whether Miss Delmar was residing there P " Oh, no," she answered : " the poor dear young lady has gone for the benefit of her health to the sea-side. She went three months ago, accom- panied by her aimt, Mrs. Howard." '•' Mr. Howard's mother, I presume f " " Yes — and a kind good lady she is," responded the servant-girl : then observing the crest on my buttons, she said, "Do you bring any letter or message from the Hall for Miss Delmar ?" "No," I answered; and I knew not exactly what excuse to make for having inquired after her : but feeling that it was necessary to say some- thing, I observed, " I merely wished to ask con- cerning the young lady's health : for I was once in service in London, and saw her two or three times." With these words I turned somewhat abruptly and hurried away : I was so fearful of committing myself to anything which might travel elsewhere, and by reaching the metropolis find its way to Mr. Lanover's cars. But when I was at a little dis- tance, I regretted not having asked more particu- larly how Miss Delmar bore up against her cala- mity. Alas ! it was .scarce!}^ necessary to do this ; for the little intelligence I had received, made me but too painfully aware that her health was broken —and therefore the bitterness of her affliction must have been keen indeed. I passed through the village ; and on gaining the outskirt, was about to turn into the fields to retrace my way to the Hall, — ^when I heard the rapid tramplings of horses' feet ; and round a bend in the road, each, side of which was skirted by trees, there came a gentleman and lady mounted on splendid steeds, with a groom in a handsome livery following at a. short interval. I stood aside to observe them; and as they dashed by me, the name of "An- nabel!" was ejaculated from my lips. Whether she observed me I knew not : but certain it is that she did not seem to do so j— and as the party were riding at a rapid pace, they speedily disappeared from my view. I stood there, upon that spot, continuing to gaze in the direction which they had taken, long after they were out of sight : it seemed as if the images of a dream had swept by. But who was her com- panion ? Sir Malcolm Wavenham ; and he was addressing her in loud and joyous tones at the moment they passed. For a few instants only was she within the range of my vision : but the im- pression left behind was as strong and as vivid as if I had thus contemplated her for an hour. How beautiful did she appear in her long flowing riding- habit, which set off the symmetry of her slender- shape to all the advantage of its graceful litheness and its elegant proportions ! How the riding-hat, with the floating veil, became her ! And that veil covered not her coxmtenance at the time, but waved upon the cvuTcnt of air which the rapidity of her course created, — thus revealing that angelic face which appeared at the moment lighted up with an animated pleasure amounting almost to radiance. It was such an expression that I had never seen upon the features of Annabel, when beneath her father's roof: for there, when she smiled, it was always with that sweet pensiveness and softly ia- genuous melancholy which methought inseparable from her countenance. Oh ! again did I feel my heart bleeding at the idea that she was happy in her shame and her transgression ! — for much, rather would I have seen the tears of contrition trickling down those lovely cheeks than the flush of joy mantling upon them. And, Oh ! methought likewise that I had done well not to renew my attempt to see her six months back, after the cruel rebuff I experienced at the theatre, when she sent out that message to the effect that she knew m& not. As I wended my way across the fields, I wept in bitterest anguish: the keenness of my affliction on Annabel's behalf was all revived again ;. and I felt that I would rather have known she was dead than beheld her radiant with joy in the midst of her wanton shame. But what had be- come of her poor mother ? — this was the question which over and over again did I ask myself. I returned to the HaU; and seeking my own. chamber, sat down to pursue my reflections. The visit to the churchyard and the presence of the unhappy Kate AUen at the grave of her dead lover, gave an impulse to those superstitious me- ditations in which I had latterly fallen ; and they now blended strangely with the other thoughts which the spectacle of the riding-party had con- jured up. All were melancholy enough ; and the longer I gave way to them, the more morbid be- came my mind. The hours passed — evening began to close in: I sought the servants' hall in the JOSEPH WILMOT ; OB, THE MEMOIUS OF A MA:S'-SE ETAyT. Co hope of escaping eomcwlial from the unpleasant reflections that were pursuing me — but I could not : and retxirning to my chamber, I mechanically took up one of those volumes which had latterly BO much engrossed my attention. There I sat reading, by the dim light of an unsnuffed can- dle, until my brain was fiUed with superstitious thoughts. But I did not feel frightened now : I looked not around in terror : I glanced not over my shoulder to assure myself that no spectral shape was standing behind me. It seemed as if I had suddenly become calmly courageous, as the conviction deepened in my sovd that aU I had been reading was strictly true. Suddenly I recollected that this was Midsummer Eve. Just one year had elapsed since poor Kate Allen — then in the glow of her joyous spirits and in the bloom of her hoyden charms — had paid the visit to the churchyard ; and within this year which had since elapsed, the warning she then received had been but too fatally fulfilled. Such were my reflections. I did not now seek to reason against the preternatural sem- blance of the tragedy : on the contrary, I be- lieved it was strictly true in that respect. Solemn thoughts moved in my mind. A strange curiosity was springing up within me : the superstition con- nected with Midsummer's Eve appeared to blend with the circumstances of Annabel. And now it struck me also as singular, that I shoxild have seen her dashing past me in the radiance of her loveli- ness and in the very glory of her shame, so soon after I myself had been weeping bitter tears in a churchyard ! " Ah, Annabel ! unfortunate Annabel !" I said, apostrophizing her aloud : " what if you yourself could read the book of destiny ? Full of life and spirits as you were this day, perhaps it is decreed that within the year which is to ensue, you also may be chiU and inanimate in the grave !" I know not how it was — I can onljr account for 66 JOSEPH WrXirOT ; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SESVANT, it by the escecding morbid state of my mdnd at the time, as -well as by the strange and unnatural manner in which various ideas and reflections, so really opposite in themselves, were jumbled and blended together ; but certain it is that the words I had thus thrown out, left behind an impression like a presentiment. It appeared as if I had received some instinctive revelation — some incom- prehensible intuitive warning — that Annabel was really to perish within a twelvemonth. So strong did this idea become, that I could not possibly put it away from my mind. I rose from my seat — shut the volume I had been reading — and thought of retiring to rest : for I knew that it must be past ten o'clock. But there was upon me such a pecu- liar sensation, I knew I should not be able to sleep : strange longings too were inspiring me — a morbid curiosity had me in its speU-Uke power. Midsummer's Eve! — and this was the night on which that yearning curiosity could be gratified ! A feeling stronger than myself, iirged me to do what my thoughts were suggesting. It was easy for me to steal forth Tinperceivcd from the house : no one would come to my chamber to ascer- tain whether I were there or not. I was not alarmed : had a spirit from the dead rcaUy arisen before me then, I do not think that I should have been frightened : I believe that I should have had the courage to question it calmly and fii-mly. I put on my hat— stole down the servants' staircase —and issued forth fi-om the Hall. It was a lovely night : the heaven was studded with countless stars — the smallest print might have been read with facility: the very serenity of the heavens, with their unclouded azure, appeared to strengthen me in the purpose which I had in view. If I had seen black clouds — if the night were dark and gloomy, and Nature had threatened to speak forth in the thunder-voice of the storm, and to send her lightning glances gleaming vividly athwart the sky, — I should have been appalled — I should have shrunk back to my own chamber. But it was far otherwise : brightness, serenity, and silent loveliness filled the atmosphere, I proceeded across the fields : nearer and nearer I drew to the village of Charlton. I reached the stile where the peasant had told mo the tale in connexion with the tragedy ; and there I rested for a few minutes. My way was soon continued : there was a kind of serene awe in my soul : I was still with- out fear — still resolute in the purpose which I had in hand. As I approached the village, no sound reached my ears : — all was still. It was close upon midnight : the ale-house was shut : not even a single straggler or belated individual was to be seen. I entered the churchyard ; and though the tombstones gleamed ghastly white in the silvery effulgence poured down from heaven, they were fraught with no terrors for me : nor did my ima- gination conjure up spectres from those graves which were thickly scattered around. I looked up at the clock, the dial of which plainly revealed its hands and its figures ; and I saw that it wanted five minutes of midnight. The church had a row of long, narrow arched windows, set high up in the wall; and several small square ones so close down towards the ground as to enable even a yoimg child to see through them into the chiu'ch. I approached one of these, and gazed intt) the interior of the edifice. Through every one of the casements poured the starlight, so that scarcely any dark places were seen within. There were the ranges of pews, humbly fashioned as they are in small village-churches— there was the pulpit against the wall faciag the very window through which I looked : I could see the commu- nion table at the extremity — the baptismal font in one of the aisles. Outside the church, the silence, though complete, appeared serene : — within, its reign seemed to be profoimdly solemn. And now, for the first time since I had issued forth from the Hall, a sort of vague terror began to creep over me — a sensation of awe, not so much inspired by the gi'aves of the dead surrounding the exterior of the church, as by the deep solemnity of the silence which appeared to prevail thereia. That sensation of terror augmented : I felt my blood getting colder and colder, and appearing to stagnate more and more in my veins : — I wished that I iiad not come. Indeed, I was about to qiut my post at the window, — ^when suddenly the first stroke of twelve smote my ear. Deep and solemn appeared to speak the metallic voice of Time : its soimds sank down into my heart with the awe which is produced by the roar of the thunder. That iron din seemed to smite my very brain : I was transfixed to the spot ; and with an irresistible fascination my eyes were fixed upon the window — or rather upon the interior of the chui'ch seen through it. Stroke after stroke clanged forth, booming deeply and solemnly through the hitherto serene air, and raising echoes within the building which likewise met my ears. I counted those strokes — counted them mechanically: I was no longer the master of my own actions — I was imder the influence of a speU-Uke feeling impossible to be described ! One — two — three — four — five — sis — seven- eight — nine — ten — eleven — twelve ! And scarcely had tho last stroke rung forth — still was the metal- lic sound vibrating in the air — when a female form, clad in a light dress that seemed like the garment of the grave, appeared just within the casement, as if passing slowly do-^\Ti the aisle on which that window looked. An ejaculation of terror burst from my lips— a face, white as that of the dead, was turned towards me It was Annabel's and with a louder and wilder cry I feU back senseless. CHAPTER XV. THE XAST VISIT OF THE BOrSTEADS. "When I came to myself, I was lying in the church- yard, close by the window where I had fallen down, — the light of the moon and stars stiU flooding the atmosphere, playing upon tho graves, and throw- ing forth the tombstones in ghastly reUef around me. Though the night air was warm, yet I felt cold as if the blood had aU frozen ia my veins : I was shuddering and shivering, too, with vague ter- rors and dreadful thoughts. The hand of death seemed to be upon me : the memorials and em- blems of death met my wild glances in every direc- tion as they were flung aroimd : graves and tomb- stones — tombstones and gi-aves — in miinterrupted succession ! My looks were again turned towards JOSEPH WII5I0T ; OR, THE MEMOIES Oi? A MAN-SEUTANT. Gy that window where I had seen the pale white face of Annabel : but it was no longer there. Could it have been imagination on my part ? was it the re- sult of a fevered fancy morbidly excited at the time ? Or was it a dread reality— a terrific pre- sage of tho iintimely fate in store for that fair young creature ? I rose up from the ground — I leant against the wall of the church — I pressed my Lands to my throbbing brows, and endeavoured to steady my ideas. I grew cahner : — not that I could fling off the dread superstitious impressions which either the real or the ideal sight of that face had left upon my mind ; but I said to myself, " If it bo the will of Providence that Annabel is to bo taken away, it is doubtless for the wisest and the holiest of pur- poses — ^perhaps to save her from plunging still more deeply down into the vortex of guilt, and losing all her angel-beauty in the pollutions of utter degradation. For myself, I know not whe- ther I have committed a dread impiety in coming hither this night for the pui'pose of looking into the futui'e : but I feel not as if I had committed a crime. If I have, sincere shall bo my repent- ance !" Having thus silently spoken within the depths of my own heart, I moved away from the spot ; and was retracing my steps through the church- yard, when I suddenly beheld a black object in himian shape moving amongst the graves and the tombstones. I stopped short : again was I seized with a cold terror ; — but as the shape became more distinctly visible, a suspicion of the truth flashed to my mind, fraught -svith a sensation of infinite relief. Keeping myself in the distance, and screened from view, I observed the direction which that af- flicted creature took. For it was Kate Allen, ap- parelled in her mourning garb, visiting at that mid- night hour tho grave of her lover ! How I longed to hasten forward and nainister consolations to the afllicted being ! — but her's was a grief beyond the reach of such solace, and likewise too holy to be intruded upon. Issuing forth from the church- yard, imperceived by her, I took the path home- ward. My reflections during this walk were filled with a superstitious awe — a mysterious solemnity — the nature and depth of which I never can forgot. The longer I meditated upon the sight that I had seen through the diamond-shaped panes of the church- window, the less inclined was I to attribute it to a morbid imagination — but the more inclined to invest it with the terrible certainty of truth. At length I experienced some sort of relief in tears, as looking back for comi:)aratively a few short months, I thought of Annabel as I had then knovai her — pure and chaste, etherealized with innocence, and having the prospect of a long life j and from this picture tiumed my mental vision upon her position noio — so changed, so altered — alas, how much ! — and with her days, perhaps her very hours num- bered ! I succeeded in re-entering the Hall and regain- ing my chamber without the slightest difficulty and without distm-bing a soul. I feared, as I sought my couch, that I sho\fld not be enabled to sleep : but scarcely had my head touched the piUow, when slumber stole rapidly upon me ; and when I awoke at about seven o'clock, I did not remember that my dreams had been disagreeable. But then, as the tremendous incident of midnight flashed back to my mind, I asked myself whether the whole were not a dream? whether I had quitted my chamber and visited the church at aU ? I closed my eyes again, and lay quite still to collect my thoughts. It appcai-ed to me that it must have been a dream, — a dream in which the incidents were depicted \vith a startling vividness, and with- out that dimness and that shadowy mystification so generally hanging around tho circumstances which fill tho visions of the night. But, ah! were there not tho means of clearing up aU doubts at once ? Yes : and leaping forth from the bed, I prqceeded to examine my garments. They bore upon them the unmistakable evidences of having come in contact with the earth and the grass of the chm-ehyard : they proved that I must indeed have lain upon the groimd ! It was impossible any longer to feel uncertain on the subject ; it was no dream — it was a reality. But now I felt that I had done wrong to indulge the morbid feeling of curiosity which had led me to the church and put to the test the preternatural belief asso- ciating itself with the hour of midnight on Mid- summer's Eve. I solemnly vowed that I would not again pore over those volumes of ghostly appa- ritions and superstitious wai-nings, which for thi-eo weeks past had been my study : for the conviction was strong in my mind, that if I persisted in such a com'se, my imagination would become gloomily diseased — my fancy morbidly desponding. And I a mere boy^of just sixteen ! Oh, I was too young to fall info such a deplorable mental condition— a condition the bare idea of which sent a chill shud- dering throughout my entire frame ! But did I need any farther proof that my visit to the chui'chyard was no dream? If so, this proof appeared to be furnished by a very lament- able and affecting piece of intelligence which reached the Hall in the coiu-se of the day. It was that poor Kate Allen had been found, at an early hour in the morning, stretched lifeless upon the grave of her deceased lover. She was com- pletely cold when thus discovered by some la- bourers proceeding to their work; and it was evident that life had been extinct for some hours. Her heart had broken ! Poor creature !— doubtless I was the last person who had seen her alive : but little did I suspect at the time that she was thus seeking the grave of her lover to render up her own existence on the turf so recently placed upon the spot where he slumbered in death ! I was much affected when the sequel of that tragic e^nsodo thus reached my ears : but, for obvious reasons, I spoke not a word which might lead any of my fellow-servants to suppose that I had seen the unfortimate yoimg woman in the last hour of her life. Three weeks passed away : it was now the middle of July — and the rumour began to cir- culate amongst tho domestics that tho Hon. Walter Eavenshill was not, after all, going to marry Miss Boustead — but that he had proposed to the daughter of a wealthy London citizen, and was accepted by the young lady and her parents. It seemed that Charles Linton, having occasion to write to the steward of his lordship's household at the Hall, had thus slightly glanced at these cir- cumstances. A couple of days afterwards I my- self received a letter from Charles,— in which he assured me that he had often thought of me during 63 JOSEPa WILMOT ; OR, THE MElfOIES CP A MA>--SEKTANT, the five or six months he had now been absent — that h£ had frequently intended to drop me a few- lines, but that something had always interfered to prevent him. He then proceeded to acquaint me that there was every prospect of the Hon. Mr. Walter becoming the husband of Miss Jenkinson, the only daughter of a retired merchant of the City of London. It was generally rumoured that Mr. Jenkinson would be enabled to give his daughter a dowry of three hundred thousand poxinds, and that she would inherit as much more at his death. Charles described her as a good- looking and genteel young lady, of about twenty- one — well educated and accomplished — and there- fore in every respect calculated to form a most excellent alUance for Mr. Walter. It farther appeared that the Jenkinson family dwelt in a palatial mansion in Piccadilly; and that if they were not received in the very highest circles, they nevertheless moved in what might be termed " good society." Charles concluded by observing that he had seen what was going on for some little time past, and how his young master was evidently paying his court to Miss Jenkinson ; but that he Lad not deemed it prudent to write and commu- nicate to his fellow-servants at the HaU anything of the matter. Now, however, as the engage- ment was formally announced to the friends of tho Jenkinson family, there was no necessity to be any longer guarded on the subject. Considering these words to convey full authority to me to explain the contents of the letter to the other domestics, I did so; and the feeling of satisfaction amongst them was very general at the improved prospects of the EavenshiU family. The wages were all terribly in arrears: and imtil something decisive in respect to the immense lia- bilities of his lordship should be done, we all felt that tho tenure of our places was somewhat pre- carious. For my part, however, I rejoiced through less selfish motives at the idea of Mr. EavenshiU making a better match than the one originally intended for him, — inasmuch as I, more than any other domestic of the household, was acquainted with the thorough horror and loathing with which he had regarded the prospect of conducting Euphemia Boustead to the altar. But now I wondered what the Bousteads v.ould say or do, when the startling intelligence should reach their ears that the Eavenshills had been playing them false and that Euphemia was to be jilted. I must not omit to add that I now observed that my lord and her ladyship appeared in better spirits than for some time past they had been. 'Not that they ever showed very visibly whatsoever cares were pressing upon their minds : for these sources of anxiety were for the most part vcUed by their cold aristocratic pride and look of dignified reserve. Nevertheless, it was apparent that they were now happier in their minds than heretofore ; and ob- servations to the same eflPect passed between his lordship's valets and her ladyship's maids, when discoursing together in the servants'-haU. It was in the afternoon of the very same day on which I received the letter from Charles Linton, that the glaring equipage of the Bousteads drove with its accustomed rapidity up to the front-door of the mansion. At that very moment Lord and Lady EavenshiU were about to issue forth to- gether for a walk through the grounds ; and as I was in the entrance-haU at the time, I thus acci- dently became an observer of the scene which took place. The Bousteads— father, mother, and daughter — alighted from their carriage; and Mr. Boustead, in his loud coarse voice, exclaimed, '•'Well, my lud, we've como to take you by storm ! We had nothing better to do to-day ; and so we made up our minds, by way of dese- cration " " Eecreation, pa !" was Miss Euphemia's re- buking corrective. "WeU, my dear — resjpiration then," proceeded Mr. Boustead. "And so, my lud, we mean to plant ourselves upon you for tho rest of tho day." ]^Ir3. Boustead laughed in her bassoon-liko tones, as if she thought it a capital joke which familiar friends might play towards each other— namely, to come suddenly and uninvited to din- ner: while Miss Boustead giggled and simpered as if she fidly participated in the diverting cha- racter of the incident. Now, but a few weeks back — and perhaps even only a few days — Lord and Lady EavenshiU would have put the best possible face on the matter — would have forced themselves to laugh — and would have assured theii- " exccUent friends " the Bousteads, that they were most welcome : but the letters recently re- ceived from their son in London, had evidently produced a marveUous alteration of circumstances. Lord EavenshiU drew himself up with the coldesti aristocratic dignity : Lady EavenshiU stepped back, and acknowledged with a glacial reserve, the forward and famiUar advances of the Bousteads. I beUeve that his lordship did unbend so far as just to permit Mr. Boustead to get possession of his forefinger instead of grasping the entire hand : but I am confident that Lady EavenshiU affected not to perceive that the hands of Mrs. Boustead and Euphemia were stretched out at aU. It was impossible, with aU their sclf-sufiicieucy, vanity, and conceit, that the Bousteads could avoid ob- serving this marked and deliberate alteration in the demeanour of Lord and Lady EavenshiU. They did notice it : they were at once struck by it — and for a few instants aU three stood trans- fixed, perfectly confounded. " Why — what the dickens does this mean '(" at length ejaculated Mr. Boustead. "I hope no oficnce, my lud ?" '•' Oifence ? Certainly not," was his lordship's response, delivered in the most chiUiag accents. " Only her ladyship and I regret very much that we shaU be imable to have the honour " — with a shght accentuation on the word — " to receive Mr., Mrs., and Miss Boustead to-day." "Come, come, my lud," exclaimed the capitalist, " this is being rayther too stiff and formular :"— he meant formal; but the mistake passed this time uncorrected by his daughter. "Mr. Boustead," answered Lord EavenshiU, with immense and overwhelming dignity, " I aUow no man to set himself up as the judge of my actions." Again did the Bousteads look completely con- founded : it was evident to them that they had not mistaken the demeanour of Lord and Lady EavenshiU— but that it was studiously, delibe- rately, intcntionaUy cold. " My lud," said the capitalist, now suddenly JOSEPH "WILMOT; OB, THE MEMOIBS 01? A MAN-SERVANT. 60 assuming an insolent air of defiance, " I demand cxiJlanations. "WTien friends come in this promis- cuous way, they had no ought to be treated with difference." " I am not aware," responded tho nobleman, " that Mr., Mrs., and Miss Boustead were ever entitled to consider themselves tho friends of the family whereof I have the pride and honour to be the head." " Then, by Jove !" thundered forth Mr. Boustead, " we have been completely humbugged ! I have been made an ass of : you, my dear," — speaking to his wife — "area foolj and you, Phemy, are jilted !" Miss Boustead sent forth a piercing shi-iek, and immediately went off into hysterics, — from which however she recovered as rapidly ; — for her father, shaking her roughly by the shoidder, while the mother held her in her arms, exclaimed in his coarse voice, '•' Come gal — none of this nonsense ! Let's show that we are as good as them any day in the week. "Why, what's a pauper broken-down Lord, that hasn't got a guinea to bless himself with ?" "John," said Lord EavenshiU, turning with calm and stately dignity towards one of the foot- men standing near ; " kick this insolent jjlebeian down the steps :" — but John, not exactly thinking his master was serious, contented himself with saying, " Yes, my lord," and only shuffled about on the spot where ho stood. " I'll be revenged for this !" thujidercd forth the capitalist, marching back to his carriage. "And so you call yourself a lady?" cried Mrs. Boustead, thro^dng this taunt at my mistress. " In my opinion a lady is a lady which can keep up appearances as such." " You may tell your coxcomb son that I never co^dd bear him !" shrieked forth Euphcmia, her whole form convulsed and her accents inflected with hysterical rage. " I meant to have written him a note to-morrow to break off the engage- ment — that I did ! Pa knows it — and ma too !" " But we'll have our action for breach of pro- mise," roared forth Mr. Boustead from the interior of his carriage, into which he had very courteously and politely rushed before handing in his wife and daughter. Lord and Lady Ravenshill paid no farther at- tention to the irate family; but, descendiug the steps, proceeded in a leisurely manner along tho gravel-walk in one direction — while the vehicle, turning round, rolled off in another. Such was tho scene of which I became a wit- ness. I do not however think that Lord and Lady Ravenshill foresaw that it woiUd assume quite so violent an aspect, when they first put on tliat air of cold reserve wherewith to receive the Boustcads, and which they probably thought would overpower and annihilate them completely. It was now evident enough that all ideas of a matri- monial alliance in that quarter were completely abandoned, even as a last resource and as an alter- native which it was at all worth while reserving to fall back upon : so that the inference to be drawn, was that the EavenshiU family were perfectly sure of the match with Miss Jenkinson coming off. On the following day fresh letters arrived from London for my lord and her ladyship ; and imme- diately after their receipt, commands were issued that preparations should be made for their prompt departure for tho metropolis. At first I was terri- bly alarmed lest I should be included amongst those domestics who were to accompany my lord and her ladyship : for I by no means relished the idea of returning to the capital, and thus standing a chance of falling into the power of Mr. Lanover. But I was soon relieved from this apprehension, as only one traveUing-carriage was to set out — one valet and one maid only to accompany it. That same day they set off, — my lord and her ladyship being no doubt very anxious to be in- troduced to their future daughter-in-law : and in the servants' -hall it was surmised, from something her ladyship had let drop to one of her maids, that the nuptials of the Hon. Mr. Walter with Miss Jenkinson were to bo celebrated very shortly. I could not help remarking that within the next few days there was an almost incessant calling of tradesmen from the town, at Charlton Hall, for the purpose of seeking interviews with the steward, the housekeeper, and the butler. Tradesmen from Exeter, who likewise furnished certain goods to the mansion, paid similar visits ; and I gathered from the conversation of my fellow-servants that in consequence of the report of the match being broken off between Mr. Walter and Miss Boustead, as well as by reason of the apparently abrupt de- parture of my lord and her ladyship — the trades- men had experienced quite a panic, fearing lest tho report of another marriage being on the tapis was a mere delusion. It was however apparent that they for the most part received satisfactory assur- ances from the chiefs of the domestic household ; as in the great majority of instances they went away contented. But still it was not invariably so : for five or six of them grumbled openly and loudly, — not even hesitating to hint that from something they had heard, his lordship's affairs were in a state hopelessly beyond redemption, no matter how brilliant an alliance Mr. Walter might contract. It was tolerably evident — and indeed, was soon known for a certainty — that Mr. Boustead, furious at the disappointment of his hope to become con- nected -nith the EavenshiU family, had been doing his best to produce this panic amongst the trades- men, and that he had availed himself of his own peculiar knowledge of his lordship's affairs to pro- pagate these very serious rumours to which some of the creditors alluded. I remember that one tradesman — a wine- merchant residing at Exeter — was exceedingly plain and peremptory in the nature of the obser- vations which he made. He arrived in his gig one afternoon — was closctted for some time with both the steward and butler — and when he issued forth from the private room of the former, he looked particularly dissatisfied. "WeU," he said, as ho stalked along the pas- sage towards the servants' entrance, at which his gig was standing, — and he spoke very loud as he adcbessed himself to the steward, — "you under- stand me. I have waited long enough. Two thousand seven hundred pounds to a provincial wine-merchant is rather too much. I have got his lordship's warrant-of-attorney ; and if within one month from this date, my claim is not paid, I will send the bailiffs into the house. So don't let his 70 JOSEPH ■wilmot; oe, the memoies op a mak-seevant. lordship be deceived in the matter : for I am re- solved. It has been nothing but promises, and shufflings, and puttings-off, and subterfuges for a long time past." The irate wine-merchant ascended into his gig : but again, ere he drove away, he bade the steward bear in mind what he had said, and fail not to communicate his intentions to Lord Eavenshill. A few days afterwards I heard the servants talk- inc about something fresh which had come to theu- knowledge respecting Mr. Boustead's pro- ceedings. It appeared that his lordship had a great many bUls of exchange floating about in the town and likewise at Exeter : and all those which were not yet due, the jilted Euphemia's father was getting into his own hands, — evidently for the pm'posc of rendering himself a creditor of Lord Eavenshill, so that he might have the satisfaction of accelerating the ruin which he predicted as close at hand. Three weeks had elapsed since the departure of my lord and her ladyship, when one mor n ing — as I entered the servants' -hall, shortly after the letter-bag had been brought from the town — I was struck by the mysteriously foreboding looks of my fellow-domestics, and the ominous whispers which were passing amongst them. Presently one of the footmen said, addressing himself to me, " Well, Joseph, I am afi."aid it is all up with that affair in London : the match is broken off — and young master has been woimded in a duel." " Mr. Walter woimded in a duel !" I exclaimed in perfect astonishment, and likewise much alarmed : for with aU his faults, there was some- thing in bim that I liked, especially as I was aware how cruelly he had been deceived and duped in money-affairs by his father. " Yes — such is the report which by means of a few hurried lines written by her ladyship's maid to Emily," — alluding to another of the tire-women, — "has just reached us. But we know nothing more of the dotaUs — not even with whom Mr. Walter has fought. My lord and her ladyship will be back at the Ilall to-night." CHAPTER XVI. ME. EIDLET. Between seven and eight in the evening, the travelling-carriage was descried entering the park ; and as it approached the mansion, tliose domestics who were assembled in the hall to receive my lord and her ladyship, expressed by their countenances the anxiety they felt as to whether the looks of those who were coming would confirm the inaus- picious tidings received in the morning. It was indeed a very serious thing for the servants gene- rally, on account of the large arrears of wages due to us all ; and there was likewise a feeling of regret at the prospect of the downfall of the family and the triumph of the vindictive Bousteads. The traveUing-carriage rolled up to the entrance: Charles Linton sat upon the bos — the valet and the maid in the rumble behind ; and the expression of their features was indeed at the first glance but little reassuring. The door of the equipage was hastily opened: his lordship descended first — and presented his arm to assist her ladyship in alight- ing. His countenance was more than usually pale : it looked haggard and careworn. He trem- bled too with an evident nervousness, as if he had received a shock. Her ladyship was ill and suf- fering ; and she leant with visible heaviness upon her husband's arm as she ascended the flight of steps to the entrance-haU. But Mr. Walter had not accompanied his father and mother home ! My first impression therefore was — and equally that of the other domestics — that he must have been very seriously wounded indeed. How cruel in such a case for his parents to have abandoned him, and to have come away without him ! Such was the thought that flashed to my mind ; but as I pre- sently learnt, I did them an injustice : for in the servants' hall it was soon known that his woimd was sUght — that he might have travelled if he had chosen — but that under existing circumstances ho had refused to come back to Devonshu-e. But I must return to Lord EavenshiU and her ladyship, as they fijst appeared when alighting from the carriage. They had about them that undefinable but yet intelligible air which too painfully denotes the consciousness of blighted expectations, ruined hopes, and approaching down- fall. Whatsoever attempt they might both have made to veil or subdue the betrayal of aU. they felt, was now but too ineffectual : their cold aristocratic pride — their severe patrician reserve — afforded not a mantle wherein to enwrap their emotions. They passed on into the dining-room j and there it was immediately requisite to supply wine-and- water for her ladyship, as she was overcome to such a degree as almost to sink off in a swoon. That night — before the hour for retiring arrived — Chai'les Lintoa beckoned me to accompany him for a walk in the back-garden ; and when we were alone together, he said, "Now, Joseph, aU my worst fears, which I expressed to you many montha ago, are about to be confii-med. So sui-ely as you behold those black clouds gathering over the sky and threatening a storm, are the dark clouds of ruin already assembling quickly above this man- sion, full soon to burst !" '•'Ai'c his lordship's prospects indeed so hope- less f " I asked, with a feeling of deep sorrow. '•' A miracle alone can save this devoted family, Josexjh," responded Linton, in gloomy accents ; " and it will not be wrought, because the age for mu'acles is gone by. Ko man has ever played his cards worse than his lordship did on that day when he broke off with the Bousteads. Contemptible as such an aUiance would have been, it nevertheless might have proved his salvation. Now all is over ; and in a few days the officials of the law will doubtless be in possession here." " Is the contemplated match between Mr. Walter and Miss Jenkinson completely broken off ?" '•' Most completely," was the response. " That duel, and other circumstances " « Ah, the duel !" I said : "but with whom did Mr. Walter fight i" "You remember," rejoined Charles, "that I one day gave you some little explanations about a certain Miss Alicia Cuthbert, and the gentleman who was supposed to be enamoured of her — namely, Captain Berkeley. It was with this Cap- tain Berkeley that ili-. Walter exchanged shots, and by whom he vras wounded in the right arm. JOSEPH •WTT.'MOT; OR, THE MEMOIES OF A MAK-SEUVANT. n You. will liave no diSiciilty in guessing tliat the duel arose from tliat very affair in which you, when dressed in female apparel, played so singular a part. But I wiU give you a few particulars, Joseph. No match could have been more eligible for Mr. "Walter than the one which was settled to take place with Miss Jenkinson. His family wanted money — hcr's wanted a patrician alliance ; and I am enabled to state that when Mr. Walter spoke to her father, with the young lady's consent, lie very frankly explained his position in a j)ecu- niai'y point of view, and the encumbrances that are upon the estates to which he is the heir. Sir. Jenkinson probably knew all these things before : but doubtless our yoxmg master's candour made a favoiurable impression upon him. It was agreed that Mr. Walter should be received as the yoimg lady's suitor; and my lord and her lady- ship arrived from the country to form the ac- quaintance of their future daughter-in-law and her parents. They took up their abode at the town- mansion, where Mr. Ravenshill had been residing ever since we left the HaU six months back ; and all seemed to go on well and comfortable for a fortnight. But then came anonymous letters from Devonshire to old Mr. Jenkinson and the young lady, to the effect that Mr. Walter had been engaged to Miss Boustead — that he had broken off the match under very dishonourable circumstances — and that he had been served by Mr. Boustead'a attorney with a notice of action for breach of promise. This ratelligence troubled the Jonkinsons very much; but I beHeve that such explanations were given as would have satis- fied them, had not other untoward cireu.mstances, producing a complete exposure, followed close upon the heels of the first. A grand party was given by some family in Belgravo Square, at which the Jenkinsons were present, as was also Mr. Walter : but my lord and her ladyship were not — I forget exactly why. Mrs. and Miss Cuth- bort were amongst the guests; and when Mr. Walter cndeavoiu'ed to pay his respects to them, they turned their backs upon him. This was seen by the Jenkinsons; but even that incident he might have explained away, were it not for what followed. Late in the evening Captain Berkeley made Ms appearance; and while Mr. Eavenshill was engaged in conversation with Mr. Jenkinson —to whom he always took care to be particularly courteous and polite — Captaia Berkeley accosted them ; and said to our young master, ' Tbw are a scoundrel — a liar — mid a forger ! To-morrozo morning you will hear from me, if I hear not from you.' — He then walked away to another part of the room, as coolly and collectedly as if he had merely been exchanging some complimentary ex- pressions, instead of flinging those terrible accu- sations at Mr. Ravenshill. No one save Mr. Jenkinson overheard what had passed: it was therefore evidently done by Captain Berkeley for the express purpose of exposing our yoimg master to that gentleman. You may conceive, Joseph, that Mr. Jenkinson was astounded at what had taken place : but Mr. Walter no doubt enjoined him to subdue his emotions, so as to prevent creating a scandal beneath the hospitable roof of their mutual friends. Mr. Jenkinson immediately retired with his MTfe and daughter; and Mr. Walter left soon afterwards. The next morning he and Captain Berkeley fought near Hampstcad ; and as you abeady know, our young master was woimded in the {irm. On the following day Mr. E-avenshiU left abruptly for the Continent: but before he went, he told me that he could no longer afford to keep a valet for his own special attend- ance, and that I mxist thenceforth consider that I belonged entirely to his lordship's household. Poor yoimg gentleman ! I pitied him deeply. I besought him to let me accompany him, — giving him to understand as plauily as I could, that re- muneration was of no consequence until he should see better times : but he only shook his head in a gloomy manner and with a sickly smile — then abruptly quitted the room." " This is indeed most sad," I observed, feeling acutely pained on Mr. Walter's account. " This happened the day before yesterday," added Charles ; " and early yesterday morning, the travelling carriage was got in readiness, and my lord and lady set out again for Devonshire." " But wherefore did Captain Berkeley," I asked, " addi-ess such severe taunts as those to Mr. Walter ?" " Do you not comprehend, Joseph ?" asked Lin- ton. " It was evidently by means of a forged note, purporting to be sent by Captain Berkeley, that it was hoped to entice Miss Cuthbert to the post- chaise that night you were taken for her. Tho stratagem must however have been seen through, and the authors of it suspected. Thus, you per- ceive, the scandal of this circumstance following so close upon the one respecting Miss Boustead, natiu-- ally caused the Jenkinsons to break off the match. They had seen that Mi*. Eavenshill was cut by Mrs. and Miss Cuthbert — which fuUy corroborated the rumour that reached their ears as to the cause of the duel." " And do you know," I inquired, " on what terms Mr. EavenshiU parted from his father and mother ?" '• No — I obtained no knowledge on that point," responded Linton. "But I am aware that Mr. Eavenshill quitted the house abruptly, and without bidding them farewell. What might have previ- ously passed between them, I know not. Her ladyship, as you may perceive, is most di-eadfully cut vip : she cannot conceal aU she suffers, — but she conceals a part ; and therefore we may judge how acute must be the anguish thus experienced, when it cannot be entirely hidden by a woman of her strong mind. As for his lordship, he too must suffer profoundly: for he likemso betrays out- wardly some portion of his care and woe." Charles and I remained in the garden talking for some little time longer ; and then we sought our respective chambers. I could not helji won- dering why Lord and Lady EavenshiU should have come back to the mansion in Devonshire ; and on the following day, when Linton and I were again talking together, I spoke to him on the subject. "The scandal created by the duel and other rumours that were afloat," answered Charles, " was too great for my lord and her ladyship to remain in London, or even so near London as Eavenshill House ; and they had therefore really no alternative but to come back to Devonshii'c. Besides, liis lordship must face his creditors : ho must be upon the spot when the crisis comes. I suppose that he will move heaven and earth to T 72 JOSEPH WILMOT; OH, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SEEVANT. make some fresli arrangements, and stave off the evil day. He has gone by himself to Exeter this morning ; and he was up at an early hour vnriting letters. I am however afraid, Joseph, that things have gone much too far to be amended — that it is too late, and the crisis is at hand." His lordship did not return from Exeter, which was only twenty miles distant, imtU a late hour in the evening; and when he descended from the carriage, he looked so haggard, care-worn, and fatigued, as to seem a dozen years older than he was a fortnight back. Her ladyship had kept her chamber all day, and a physician from the town had visited her : but she came down stairs to join her husband at the dinner- table ; and as it was a part of my duty to be in attendance, I had an opportunity of noticing that scarcely a word was spoken between them, and that the food which they took upon their plates, went away almost vmtasted. In the servants' hall there was a gloomy feeling, dis- played by omiaous looks and whispering in groups : while every one felt uneasy and imsettled. In- deed, it was but too evident that Charles Linton's opinion was general through the household — that a crisis was at hand ! On the following morning, between nine and ten o'clock, — just as the carriage was in readiness to convey his lordship into the town, — a gig, in which throe men were crowded, was seen di-iving up the avenue ; and it stopped in front of the mansion. One of these men was dressed in a sort of half-sporting style, with tightly fitting drab trousers — a cut-away green coat and brass buttons — a blue neckerchief, with an enormous diamond pin — and a hat having very wide brims and bulging out very much in the crown. He wore a great quantity of jewellery about his person ; but had a mean, vile, and flashy look, which altogether ren- dered his appearance as little prepossessing as possible. His two companions were very queer characters indeed, so far as their aspect went. One was dressed in an exceedingly rusty suit of black : the coat was patched at the elbows, the trousers at the knees ; and the new piecings formed a most disadvantageous contrast with the general seediness of the garments themselves. Several buttons were deficient on coat and waist- coat ; and the man's linen looked as if it had been washed in coffee-cbegs. The other individual was still more remarkably apparelled : for though it was the sultry month of August, yet ha wore a thick great-coat of drab colour, which had evidently never been made for him, inasmuch as its skirts reached the ground. It was stained and soiled in many places, as if with beer ; and of this liquor both the man himself and his companion in rusty- black were redolent. The former seemed to have just disposed of a biscuit, or a piece of bread and cheese, as the gig drove up to the Hall : for he was munching something and wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his drab coat. I was standing on the stops at the time that the gig containing these three curious specimens of humanity, drove up : and I was instantaneously seized with a suspicion of impending evil, — which was confirmed by an ominous ejaculation which involuntarily biurst from the lips of the hall-porter. The individual who was bedizened with the jewel- lery, flung the reins upon the horse's back — leapt out of the gig — and motioned for his companions, in the rusty black and the drab coat respectively, to remain seated in the vehicle for the present : then pulling out his card, he accosted me in a free- and-easy, half-familiar half-patronising way, ex- claiming, "I say, youngster, just take my card to his lordship ; and say it's Mr. Eidloy as wishes to have a few words with his lordship very particular indeed. He'll see it's of the firm of Sharpfist and Eidley — and he'll know who's who in a jiffey." I experienced a strange sort of feeling — half that of consternation, and half that of a cold shudder — the former as if smitten by some sudden calamity, the latter as if the head and protruding tongue of a reptile were thrust out at me, — when I took the dirty piece of pasteboard which Mr. Eidley presented. I did not hurry away as ho seemed to expect I should : I was for the moment nailed to the spot. I took the card mechanically : — mechanically too did I bend my eyes upon it ; and there was no longer the possibility of doubt as to the meaning of this visit, when I read the words, "Shaepfist and Ridley, ^a;efcr. Officers to the Sheriff of Devonshire." " Now, you igster," exclaimed Mr. Eidley, as ho loxmged against the door-post, "why don't you cut along and give that there cUrd ? What are you standing gaping at ?" " Yes — go, Joseph," said the hall-porter, who, from the depth of his huge leathern chair, was surveying Mr. Eidley with immitigab)6 disgust: " go and take this person's card to his ibrdship." " Pussou indeed ?" ejaculated the officer, tm-ning round and fixing an insolent stare upon the hall- porter : " who calls mo a pusson, I should like to know P Come out of your ivy-bush, you great big red-faced owl, -with your scarlet coat, and that powdered wig on your sconce." Indescribable was the dignity and stateliness with which the hall-porter slowly rose from his leathern throne : and bonding a sternly scornful look upon Mr. Ridley, he seemed as if about to take summary proceedings to eject that individual from the threshold. But it was evident that the old man was all in a moment smitten with the re- collection that the fellow came armed with the authority of the law j for his manner changed in a moment — he appeared to feel that " his occupation was gone" — and sinking back into his huge leathern chair, he positively gave vent to a sob 1 heard it — and I likewise saw a big tear roll down each cheek. At this instant — ^just as I was turning away to hurry up to the drawing- room and deliver the card, I myself being much affected by that display of feeling on the old porter's part — I beheld Ins lordship descending the great staircase. "Is the carriage in readiness?" he demanded in his usual authoritative manner : and this man- ner, too, had become blended with a considerable petulance since his return from London. "Ye-e-s, my lord," said one of the footmen standing in the hall, and who spoke with a certain degree of hesitation and a singularity of look : " the carriage is in readiness, my lord but, I think there is some one, my lord, that wishes " " Here, give us the card, yoimgster !" ejaculated Mr. Ridley, snatching it out of my hand. "If you was my lad, I would lay this horsewhip about your back, to make you look » little sharper :"— JOSEPH ■WTXMOT ; On, THE irEMOTRS OF A M.VX-SEnVAXT. 73 then advancing through the hall, he slightly touched his hat, without taking it off ; and hand- ing his lordship the card, said, " I am ilr. Eidley, my lord — of the firm of Sharpfist and Ridley." The moment that the unfortunate nobleman's eyes encountered the liashly dressed individual, — and before tlie latter had either tendered the card, or spoken a syllable to announce himself, — I noticed tliat his lordship staggered back a pace or two, as if stricken a sudden blow : while an expression of indescribable anguish passed rapidly over his fea- tures, which turned ghastly. Instantaneously re- covering himself however, he waved his liaud quickly to stop the Sheriffs-officer in the middle of his sentence ; and beckoning him to foUow, led the way into the dining-room. Almost imme- diately afterwards, the bell of that apartment rang: one of the footmen hastened to answer the summons — and coming forth again in less than a minute, he said, '•'"Where's Emily?" — alluding to lO one of her ladyship's maids. I saw that he spoke in a hurried and excited manner ; and as Emily at that instant mada her appearance from a door at the extremity of the hall, he hastened towards her. She appeared quite confounded by the announce- ment which he made, and which I was at no loss to guess : then she began to cry, — but quickly wiping her eyes, she sped up-stairs. " Well," said the footman, coming across the hall and speaking to the porter, " this is a bad job — isn't it ? But it was foreseen. His lordship told me to desire Emily to go up and break as gently as she can, the distressing intelligence to her ladyship ; so that it may not reach her all of a sudden." The door of the dining-room now opened ; and his lordship came forth, followed by Mr. Ridley, who had his hat on : so that I really do believe he had not taken it off during their interview, and that his lordship felt SD.nehow or .another too much 74 JOSEPH WIMIOT ; on, THE MEMOmS 07 A MAN-SERVANT. in the oflicer's power, or else was too much de- pressed and humiliated, to hint at his discourtesy. The nobleman was as white as a sheet : his form appeared to be more bowed than was its wont, — as if the calamity which had overtaken his house, had fallen likewise -with a physical weight upon his own shoidders, — remaining there like a burthen which must bo borne and could not be cast off. "Now, Tom Austin!" exclaimed the Sheriff 's- ofScer, advanciag to the threshold and beckoning to one of his men : " you are to stay here. There's the paper — and his lordship has said that you'll have yoiu- grub and all that sort of thing in the reg'lar way." The summons made to the gig had been an- swered by the man wearing the soiled and greasy drab-coat; and it was now I observed that the skirts reached to the ground. " Werry much obleeged to his lordship," said Tom Austin, carrying his hand to the brim, of his battered hat. " I've no doubt I shall be werry comfortable here." " Don't be afeard, my lord, that Tom will be up to any tricks," observed Mr. llidley, addressiug the nobleman and pointing to the man. " He's a uncommon quiet sort of a chap — a say-nothing-to- nobody kind of a feller — and doesn't get larking vnth the gals or what not. His only fault is that if too much liquor is placed in his way, he'll get as drunk as blazes. So you must tell the butler, my lord, to take the key out of the ale-tap. Grood day, my lord." With these words, Mr. Ridley carried his hand just half-way to the front of his hat ; and leaping up into the gig, drove away. "You will take this person to the servants' hall," said Lord Eavenshill, beckoning towards him the same footman who had previously spoken to Emily ; " and let him have his meals there at the side-table with the scullions," added his lord- ship; these last words being delivered in what dramatic authors and theatrical folks would term " an aside." Tom Austin accordingly followed the footman from the hall ; and I could not help observing the contrast between the tall, well-fed, gorgeously- attired livery servant, — and the shambling, shuf- fling, dii'ty, ill-looking fellow who was at his heels. His lordship counter-ordered the carriage, and proceeded slowly up-stairs — I believe to her lady- ship's chamber. Thus the crisis had come at last : the first stroke of the knell of the Eavenshill house had sounded portentously upon every ear : the first gripe of the law's hand was fastened u^jon the property of this doomed family. In the course of the day I learnt from Charles Linton that the execution was put in by that Exeter wine-merchant whose threatcnings I had overheard. It was only for two thousand seven hundred pounds — a small sum, one would think, for a nobleman possessed of such immense estates, producing such large revenues : but it was only too evident that his lordship could not command the amoimt — and even if ho could, its payment wovdd have been but as a drop of water to the ocean when all the other enormous liabilities wore taken into consideration. On the following day Mr. Eid'iey called again — had another interview with his lordship — and placed three or four fresh papers in Tom Austin's hands : so it was soon known that additional seizures had taken place. For several successive days these visits on the Sheriff 's-oflicer's part were renewed, every time to put in fresh executions: for when once the intelligence was spread in the neighbouring town and at Exeter that the bailiffs were in possession at Charlton Hall, the creditors appeared to vie with each other in the rapidity with which they sought to enforce their claims. CHAPTER XVir. THE MAN IN POSSESSION. Theoughoxjt my long and varied experiences, which arc to be fully recorded in the course of these memoirs, I do not remember that I ever encountered such a character as Mr. Thomas Austin. So far from justifying any one of the eulogiums which Mr. Ridley had passed upon him the first day of his arrival at the Hall, he was in every detail the very opposite. Instead of being a silent person, he was the most garrulous in- dividual that ever was: indeed, he would talk from morning to night, if ho could get any body to listen to him. But his whole conversation was connected with sheriffs' -officers, executions, cap- tions, levyingg, sales, warrants-of-attorney, cogno- vits, jf?./rt.'s, ca. sa.'s, and in short every possible process relating to debtor and creditor. In these respects he certainly possessed a marvellous fund of anecdote; and he chuckled over all kinds of rogueries, chicaneries, and double-dealings whereby he had known debtors to outwit their creditors, or creditors to take unconscionable advantage of debtors, — with a zest and a ffusto as if they were the most ca2:)ital jokes and the finest exploits in the whole world. He was one of the dirtiest and most disgusting men as to his own person that could be weU con- ceived, — not thinking of taking the trouble to wash himself oftener than every other day — and then only having what he called " a rinse " at the pump instead of using the bason and ewer which were of course provided in the chamber allotted him. As for shaving, this performance he could only bring his mind to about every fourth or fifth day; and in respect to his hair, I do not. think it was combed all the time he was in pos- session — which was about six weeks. He might have blacked his shoes if he had chosen — but he did not ; and they remained encrusted with mud (picked up during the rainy weather before he came to the HaU) the whole time he was there. As for eating and drinking, Thomas Austin was never at a loss : he was always hungry and always thirsty. Every half-hour dm-ing the day he might be seen mimching bread and cheese, or eating a piece of bread and cold meat -with a clasp knife, — never on these occasions seeming to recollect that there was such a thing in the world as a plate. As often as he could find an oppor- tunity, he sneaked with a mug in his hand — (he always preferred a mug to a glass) — to the ale- barrel ; and as he was seldom interfered vnth, not- withstanding Mr. Ridley's advice to the contrary, he was invariably in a state of intoxication by about five o'clock in the evening— sometimes so JOSEPH WILMOT ; OB, THE MEMOIHS OF A MA^--SERVA^'T. 75 early as mid-day. During the brief intervals be- tween liis countless repasts, he would seek some nook in the back part of the premises ; and pre- ferring an inverted tub or a pail turned topsy- turvy to a chair, would sit smoking a short pipe in a kind of half-di-owsy, half-ruminatiiig fashion. But, as above stated, when he could get anybody to listen to his stories, he would even forget his bread and cold meat — would lay dovra his pipe — and talk away as long as he was attended to. Here is a specimen of one of these anecdotes of Mr. Thomas Austin's : — " I don't think I ever told you about that there business of Sir George Dashwood's. Ah! Sir George was a fine fi'ller : he had throe thousand a year, and spent thirty. Took his bottled ale and cherry-brandy for breakfast — his bottled ala and cherry-brandy again for lunch — his three bottles of wine every day for dinner — and was carried up to bed every night of his life. That's what I call doing the thing slap-up : that's the way a genelman ought to live ! None of your tea and slops for breakfast — your one glass of shen-y and biscuit for lunch — and your pint of wine for dinner — then coffee and slops again in the drawing-room — and then walking up to bed as steady and sober as if you hadn't got a flunkey to carry you. That's not what I calls life : it's only a wishy-washy kind of existence. Ah ! Sir George Dashwood — or Georgy Dashwood as we used to call him — did things better than that : he would have scorned his-self if he had been caught going to bed sober, and couldn't have a-beared to look his walley-de-shamble in the face nest morn- ing if he hadn't been "carried up quite blazing. TVell, I needn't tell you — cos why you must all have hecrd it — that Sir George had a 'lovely place called Dashwood Park, about fifteen mile t'other side of Exeter ; and he run through all his pro- perly in a matter of five year arter he come of age : so he was only twenty-six when ho was ruined. Ah ! a prime feller was Georgy — always three or four prize-fighters staying at his house, dining at his table, and treated just for all the world as well as his-self. Well, von day — that's about seven year ago now — Eidley says to me, says h^, ' I say, Tom, you and me must just go down to Georgj' Dashwood's and take possession.' — So we gets into the gig, and down we drives to George's, getting there at two o'clock in the arternoon, just as Georgy and his friends was a sitting do-wn to lunch. There was a dozen on 'em ; and such prime company ! There was Tim Bul- lockhead, the Champion of England ; and a couple of other milling coves — regular smashers of their kind. Then there was honest Jack Eobins, the horse-chaunter. Ah! he knowed a trick or two I about bosses — didn't he ? that's all ! And then there was a couple of splendid chaps as kept fighting cocks ; and there was three jockies, and Ben Snelling the trainer. A sharp feller was Ben! Howsomever, I don't recoUect who the rest was : but I know they was all of the right sort ; and they was setting at table, drinking the bottled ale and the cheiTy-brandy, and kicking up such a thundering row, when me and Eidley goes in. So the instant we enters, Georgy twigs us, and gives us each such a hearty shake of the hand, as if we was his best friends and had come to do him a sarvice. So he makes us sit down ; and we gets so precious jolly, that when Ridley wanted to go away, he was too drunk to get into his gig ; and Georgy and the others puts him imder the pump, and pumps on him for ten minutes, tUl he was nigh drownded — but quite sober. So away he goes — and I was left in pos- session." At this part of his story, Tom Austin was wont to pause and assiune a very complaisant look, as if mentally contemplating with infinite satisfaction the pumping feat and the jocose hilarity of Sir George Dashwood and his delectable friends. " Well," he resumed, " I never had such a time of it in all my life. I was in possession about three months, Sir George keeping off the sale by feeing Sharpfist and Eidley ten pound a veek ; and I never goes to beil soljcr the whole time. Often and often I was blind drunk at noon ; and led such a game I raly began to think I was a tip-top genelman myself. Georgy gave me this coat, he did : so you see I've had it a matter oi seven year: it isn't veared out yet. I keep's it for poor George's sake. At last things coiddn't go on no longer : no more fees was coming lor Sharpfist and Eidley. So von day down comes Eidley vi-ith the hauctionecr to take the walJyation. Georgy seemed to get happier the nearer the time came ; and he used to say to me, slapping me on the shoxilder — for Georgy and me was quite lormiliar, • — ' Tom,' says he, ' I've had five year on it, and that's enow for any genelman as calls his-£eL a genelman. A short life and a merry von,' says he : ' that's my maxim. I think I should have been happier, Tom, if I'd gone a little faster. IIo^vm- somever, Tom,' says he, ' I've done it up brown enough; and that's a blessing. "When's the sale, Tom ?' — In three days, sir,' says I. — ' Worry good, Tom,' says he : ' we'll spree it out tUl the last. They let lis drink the wine : so arter all, there's uothink to say agin your peojile, Tom.' — And for them thi'ee days we did keep it up too, I can teU you, — every one going blazing di-unk to bed, ser- vants and all, except Georgy his-self ; and for them three days he used to sleep luider the table where he tumbled down, cos why his walley-de-shambles was too tosticated to carry him up as they was wont to do. They just managed to got to their rooms : but he was too far gone to reach his'n. Well, the morning of the sale comes : every winder of the old manor-house was kivered with posting- bills ; and there was a precious lot of brokers and what not, assembled in the haU, where the sale took place. All went on pleasant enough, — Georgy sitting close to the hauctioneer and cracking his jokes as harticle after harticle was knocked down. Well, at two o'clock there was lunch ; and Georgy was the gayest of the gay, — singing, and laughing, and telUng such capital stories, he kept us all in a roo-ar. The hauctioneer lunched \nth us ; and Georgy tried hard to make him drunk, but coiddn't. Well, when the hauctioneer gets up from lunch, and says, says he, ' Kow, Sir George, with your leave, we'll go back and knock off this here little business,' — Georgy says, says he, 'Just von glass of champagne all round, cos I sec by the katdog the wines is to be sold next; and when vonce they're knocked down, I sha'u't have no more right to touch a single bottle.' — So a dozen of champagne and glasses was ordered up all at vonce. The glasses was filled; and Georgy says, says he, ' Now I'll give jcr a toast,' sajs lie. — So we all gets up too ; and he says, says he, ' Here's the health of the chap whomsoever he was, that inwented the maxiui a sJiort life and a merry von.' '— So we all cries out, ' Brayvo ! hooray !' and we pats our glasses to our lips. But at that werry same moment I sees Georgy take summut out of his veskit-poeket, though I didn't know nuffin at the time what it were : but as he holds his glass in von hand he seems to put t'other over it for an instant : then quick as thought he drains his glass ■^and down he tumbles, stone dead. He had pi- Boned his-self." The listener to this anecdote would naturally express his horror in some way or another — either by an ejaculation or a gesture : whereupon it was Tom Austin's wont to look half-indignantly at such conduct ; and say in a sort of scornful manner, '"' Well, how would you have a genelmau of that stamp end his days ? You wouldn't have him go and break stones in the road and lower his-self to labom* and wulgarity — would yer? Deuce a bit on't ! Georgy Dashwood wasn't that kind of chap. I on'y wishes as how everybody where I'm in possession, was like him — that I does !" This anecdote and the mode in which it was told, will enable the reader to form some idea of the pleasant and agreeable character which the servants at Charlton Hall had amongst them, in the person oi Thomas Austin. But I wUl not dwell at any greater length upon the attributes, either physical or mental, of the man in possession: other matters of graver and more important in- terest demand my attention. I have already said that fresh executions kept pouring into Charlton Hall ; and these were on the part of the numerous tradesmen of the ad- jacent town and the city of Escter, who had been wont to supply the household. Intelligence was soon whispered at the Hall that seizures on the part ot London creditors had been effected at the town-mansion, and at EavcnshUl House near Eich- mond. Thus was the work cf ruin going rapidly on in respect to this doomed family. It was not confined to one sjiot — it was not limited to one part of their possessions : it spread like wildfire — and wherever there was property to seize, the hand of the law made its grasp. Her ladyship kept entirely to her own chamber : his lordship seldom crossed the threshold of Charlton Hall; and when he did, it was merely to walk for a short half-hour in the garden, where he plunged into the seclusion of shady avenues. He went not to the town nor to Exeter : he made no visible, effort to check the portentous tide of ruin that was rolling in upon him. Yet I do not think he had altogether lost his energies : on the contrary, I believe that if there had been a single straw of hope to clutch at, he was the man to make the attempt, however desperate, to save himself. But doubtless he saw that it was all in vain : doubtless the fearful conviction was too deeply stamped upon his soul that ruin was inevitable, and that he could no more contend against the advancing rush of the overwhelming torrent than an enfeebled swimmer could struggle ■with the rapids of Nia- gara. Moreover, Lord EavenshiU must of course have known that even the worst had not yet come ; and that while day after day kept up the suc- cession of destructive blows, harder and sterner ones yet remained to be dealt. Three weeks after the first seizure was put in, Mr. Boustead asserted his claim in a similar manner for about ten thousand pounds, — this being the aggregate amount of the various bills of exchange which he had contrived to get into his possession. It was understood at the Hall that his lordship felt this blow most severely : and it was natural that he should do so. In the first place, he must have contemplated with bitterest regret having so in- solently, and even rudely, broken off a connexion which — however impalatable to himself, his ■wife, and his son — had nevertheless been positively courted and encouraged in the origin by them- selves. In the second place, he must have deeply felt that had this connexion been persevered in aad consolidated, it would have proved the means of saving his family from so much degradation, and his fortimes from the catastrophe of ruin. A week after Mr. Boustead's execution was put in, a lawyer came down from London, and ob- tained the assistance of the local Sheriff's officers to take possession of the estate itself on behalf of the mortgagees : for it appeared that this process was admissible on account of the papers which his lordship had so rashly and wickedly persuaded his son ilr. EavenshUl to sign. Thus, at the ex- piration of a month from the date of the first seizure, the whole property, personal and landed, was in the hands of the officials of the law ; and instead of one man in possession, we had several. But aU this time not a word was said to the domestics relative to the chance — or rather the certainty of the household being broken up. No warning was given to us in respect to leaving; and as for wages, months had passed since we had received even an instalment of the arrears. Every- thing was in a state of unsettled feverishness ; and considering the circumstances in which his lord- ship was so cruelly placed, no applications were made to him by any of the servants on the score of money-matters. I should observe that although several of the surroimding nobility and gentry continued to caU as usual, just as if nothing extraordinary were taking place, — the reply given by the hall-porter was always that his lordship was not at home, and that her ladyship was too ill to quit her chamber. No dinner- parties, nor balls, nor soirees now enlivened the Hall — no roseate floods of luxury filled the spa- cious saloons : no silvery voices of mirth and gaiety, nor sounds of music, broke in upon the dull monotony of the scene. And yet it was not altogether monotonous : for, as above hinted, the comings and goings of the myrmidons of the law sustained a feverish excitement, and one that was truly impleasant for every soul beneath that roof. One forenoon, about five weeks after the first seizure, I was much astonished, while conversing ■with the hall-porter, to behold the gaudy equipage of Mr. Boustead approaching up the carriage-drive; and on stopping at the entrance, that gentleman himself alighted. " Go and see what he wants, Joseph," said the haU-porter, speaking in a quick voice, and -with an expression of countenance indicating that a sudden hope had sprung up in his mind. I accordingly hurried do^wn the steps, and Mr. JOSEPH WILMOT; OB, THE MEMOIES OF A MAN-SEETANT. 77 Boustead said, " His lordship has requested me to call : you wUl denounce me at once." Had Miss Euphemia been present, she would perhaps, in the spirit of gentle correction, have reminded her father that he had wrongly spoken the first syllable of the word : but he came alone, neither his wife nor daughter being with him. I hastened to show him into the dining-room, — whUe a footman hurried up-stairs to acquaint his lordship with this arrrival. In a few minutes the nobleman descended the stairs ; and though pale even to ghastliness — as for weeks past he had been — it was nevertheless evident that he had armed himself with a certain degree of calm severity and resigned fortitude ; as if having made up his mind to proffer overtiu-es for a reconciliation, he pur- posed to do so with a becoming dignity, and to exhibit no disappointment if they should be rejected. He entered the dining-room; and for two hoiu:s did his lordship and Mr. Boustead remain in conference together. At the expii-ation of that time they issued forth, — the nobleman accompanying the capitalist as far as the threshold of the hall ; and as the latter entered his carriage, his lordship bowed with a sort of condescending affability. It may easily be supposed that this visit gave rise to many conjectures and speculations in the servants' hall ; and every one expressed the hope that it would lead to some great change in the present aspect of affairs. This hope did not appear to be without foxmdation, — when, on the following day his lordship gave orders that Mr. Eavenshill's chamber was to be got in readiness for his reception, he being about to return to the Hall. Accordingly, in the afternoon of that same day, a postchaise-and-four drove up to the mansion; and Mr. Walter alighted. Heavens, how changed he was ! Pale, haggard, and care-worn, he looked a dozen years older than when I had last seen him seven or eight months back : he was but the ghost of his former self ! Lord Eavenshill, having doubtless perceived the approach of the vehicle, came down from the drawing-room to meet his son. I saw by the nobleman's manner that he meant to embrace him: but the greeting on Mr. Walter's part was cold and distant ; and the smUe which for a moment appeared upon his lip, was sickly and wan. CHAPTER XVIII. THE BILLET. On the following day Lady Eavenshill descended from her own chamber to the drawing-room, for the first time since the executions had been placed in the house. She also was frightfully altered, — looking pale as a spectre, and thin even to emacia- tion. She was apparelled with her accustomed elegance ; and there seemed to be a hideous mockery in that gay raiment clothing one whose personal appearance was so corpse-like and so ghastly. In the afternoon the Bousteads' equipage arrived at the hall ; and this time the capitalist was accompanied by his wife and daiighter. Their visit did not extend beyond half-an-hour ; and when they took their departure, Lord EavenshUl and his son escorted them to the carriage, — I Euphemia leaning upon the arm of the latter. It was therefore evident that a reconciliation had been eJQfected, and that the matrimonial project was revived. On the following day the Bousteads came again; and this time their stay was prolonged to an hour. But the men in possession were not withdrawn : they received no intimation that any change in the condition of affairs was likely to take place : aU seemed thus far enveloped in mystery. In the evening, however, of that second day of the Bousteads' visit, Charles Linton gave me some little intelligence. " Mr. Eavenshill," he said, " hinted to me just now that the day after to-morrow he is to be married by special license to Miss Boustead. The ceremony will take place at the Hall, and %vith the strictest privacy. No guests are to be invited, beyond the actual bridal-party ; and immediately after the solemnization, Mr. Eavenshill and his bride wiU leave for Torquay. I am not to men- tion this to the servants generally : perhaps Mr. EavenshiU would not even have thus far made me his confidant, only that I am to accompany him, — and moreover he is evidently mindful of my con- duct towards him, when after the duel in London I besought that he would not discharge me from his service on the mere ground of his inability to remunerate me." " Then I suppose the debts will all be paid and the men in possession will be withdrawn ? Ah ! I can assure you, Charles," I went on to observe, " that I shall be truly rejoiced to behold such a sudden change in his lordship's circimistances." "There can be no doubt, Joseph, that it is altogether a matter of pecuniary expediency ; and that Mr. Eavenshill has consented to sacrifice him- self to save his family from ruin. Ah ! it was with a ghastly look of despair that he spoke the few words which gave me the knowledge I have just imparted to you. As a matter of course, old Boustead will not part with a single shilling until he has seen the nuptial-knot tied ; and therefore I suppose all the legal processes wUl go on just the same until the last instant, — when the capitalist vdll produce his money-bags. But you must not say a word of all this to any of the other ser- vants." I promised compliance with Linton's injunction ; and therefore with the household generally every- thing continued to be shrouded in mystery — save and except so far as conjectm-e enabled the do- mestics to penetrate somewhat into the new ar- rangements that were progressing. But they were very far from surmising that the intended mar- riage was so close at hand. On the following morning their hopes of an amicable settlement of his lordship's affairs were considerably damped, when Mr. Eidley and an auctioneer came over from Exeter to take the necessary preliminaries for the sale of the personal property, which was fixed for the third day thence. Catalogues had been already printed ; and now commenced the process of affixing tickets, with numerals upon them, to every article throughout the mansion. In this service the men in possession were all included : most of the domestics were likewise called upon to help, the steward intimating that it was by his lordship's orders, so as to prevent the myrmidons of the law from penetrating into the private 78 JOSEPH WILMOTJ OH, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SEETANT. apartments. Ah! methouglit the celebration of a marriage imder such circumstances, — a marriage to take place in a drawing-room where every article of furniture and every ornament, even to the most trifling nicknack, was ticketed for sale, — must at least be a singular if not an ominous spectacle ! The Boustcads paid their usual visit on this day : and his lordship, on seeing them to then* carriage, was far more courteously polite than ever I had before observed him to bo towards the capitalist and his family. As for IVIr. Walter, — his bearing towards Euphcmia was that of a polished gentle- man ; but cold, reserved, and constrained How was it possible for it to be otherwise ? It was verging towards sunset on that same day, that I walked forth alone through the grounds, — my services not being in any •way required for an hour or two at the Hall. I had thu.s strolled to a distance of about a mile, wrapped up in my reflections, — when I observed a lady approaching from the direction of the road. As she drew nearer, I saw that she was young and beautiful. Her age could not have been more than one-and- twenty : she was tall and finely formed, — elegance and grace characterizing her whole appearance. Her hair was dark — her eyes of a deep blue : she looked pale — but not with a pallor that seemed natural. It was evidently the result of fatigue or care — perhaps both combined; and as I drew nearer, I likewise noticed that there was the glitter of suspense and imeasiness in those beau- teous eyes of her's. She surveyed me very hard, as if she wished to speak : but as she did not im- mediately address me, I passed her by. Having proceeded perhaps for twenty paces, wondering who she could be, and whether she was going to the Hall, — marvellmg likewise that she should be by herself, and on foot, at that time of the evening, as well as in so lonely a place, — I looked back. She was standing on the spot where I had passed her, gazing after me. I stopped short, hesitating whether to accost her with some question,— such as if she had lost her way and was seeking any particular destination ? — when she beckoned me towards her. I hastened to obey the summons : but even when I accosted her, she still appeared uncertain what to say, or whether to speak at all. At length, with a visible effort, she put aside all farther hesitation ; and observed, " You are in the service of Lord Ravenshill ?" " I am, madam," was my answer ; " and if I could do anything to oblige you, I shall be truly happy." Again she smweyed me with penetrating ear- nestness ; and after a long pause she said in a tone of audible and perhaps involuntai-y musing, "Yes — I think I can trust you. Your appear- ance But will you do me a favour ?" she asked, thus suddenly»interrupting herself: " and I will reward you liberally." " I do not need any reward, madam," was my immediate response : " but whatsoever services I can render, you may command them." " I see that I am not deceived in you," the young lady observed : " you arc evidently above your position. Do not think ill of me that I have thus addressed you still more, do not think ill of me for the favour I am about to solicit at your hands." There was so much sweetness in her manner, — so much kind yet perfectly lady-like and dignified affability,— that I was much prepossessed on her behalf. She seemed uneasy, and even excited — as if hope and fear were struggling in her bosom. " I am certain not to think Ul of you, madam," I hastened to observe : " for I am confident you could enjoin me no task which I may not honour- ably and becomingly fidfil." "At least promise me this," she hastily ex- claimed, — " that if when I have named my re- quest — which is a simple, though it may appear a strange one — you should have any scrujiiles in granting it, you ^vill not breathe to a soul the circumstance that you have met me here, or that such a favour has been sought at your hands." " Most faithfully do I give that promise," was my rejoinder. She di-ew forth a note from a reticule which she carried in her hand : — the hand too which held that note, trembled visibly; and I observed the blood mantle upon her cheeks — then vanish again as suddenly, leaving them by the contrast paler than they were before. Methought that some powerful inward struggle was taking ijlace— a struggle perhaps between the prideful modesty of her sex, and some other as well as more tender feeluig. She looked at the note and then at me : hesitation and reluctance marked her conduct. But again exhibiting a suddenness of decision, she said, "Will you undertake — with the least possible delay, and likewise with the strictest secrecy — to place this note in the hands of Mr. Eavenshill ?" "I will," was my prompt answer : — for I could not possibly conceive that I was doing wrong in complying with a request put by one so lady-like, so beautiful, and whose motives for her present proceeding were evidently of such importance as to struggle successfully against her innate sense of modesty. "Within an hour from the present time," I went on to observe, "Mr. Ravenshill shall have this note— and no one shall see me give it him." " Thanks — a thousand thanks !" answered the lady : then, with a renewal of her hesitating manner, she drew her purse forth from her reti- cule, saying, " Shall I insult you if " " Not for the \Yorld ^^'ill I accept the slightest rewai'd !" I exclaimed. " Fear not that your errand will be unfaithfully or clumsily executed :" — ■ and with these words I darted away in the direc- tion of the Hall. Looking back in the coiu'se of a few minutes, I perceived a post-chaise hastening along the road which boimded the park; and I therefore con- cluded it was this vehicle which had brought the lady thither, and in wliich she was now taking her departure. On I sped towards the mansion, — feeling as if I were the messenger of good tidings, but without having the slightest comprehension of what their nature could be. As I neared the Hall, I was much gratified on beholding Mr. Eavenshill himself issuing forth,— doubtless for the purpose of roaming in solitude and giving way without restraint to his mournful reflections. In a fcw^ minutes I was by his side ; and as he stopped short abruptly, he doubtless saw by my features that I had something of importance to commmiicate. "What is it, Joseph ?" he asked. "Any new JOSEPH WILMOT ; OR, THE MEMOIES OF A MAN-SERVANT. 79 calamity ?" — and an expression of anguished bit- terness passed over liis features. "I hope not, sir — I think not," was my re- sponse : and I tendered him the billet. " Ah !" he ejaculated, instantaneously recog- nising the writing, which was in a beautifid fluent female hand; and all in a moment did joy, sus- pense, and amazement succeed that other look which I had just observed on his countenance. " "Who gave you this ? how did it come ?" But without waiting for any answer, he tore open the billet. The lines it contained were evi- dently few — for they were quickly scanned by his eager eyes : yet great must have been their im- portance, for the ejaculation '•' Thank God !" fell in fervent accents from his lips. He seemed to be overpowered by his joy ; and tears gushed forth from his eyes, — as if some tremendous weight had been lifted from his soul, and the sense of reUef foimd its natural issue in those tears. For more than a minute he thus remained under the in- fluence of his feelings, — apparently unconscious that I was standing near and observing him. I should have retired at once, only that I knew there were questions which he must desire to put to me. " Who gave you this note, Joseph ?" he at length asked. " Tell me quick who gave it to you ?" " A young lady " " Ah ! it is she herself then ! And what said she ?" "The lady merely asked me," I responded, " to do her a service — which I willingly under- took " " And she enjoined you to secrecy — did she not r" interrupted Mr. Eavenshill. '• Yes, sir : and that injunction I shall assuredly obey." '"You are a good youth, Joseph," cried my young master, — " an excellent youth ! I must re- ward you liberally " '■ No, su'," I answered, " The young lady her- self proffered me a recompense : but I respectfully declined it." "Well, go, Joseph — retiu'n to the Hall," re- sumed Mr. Eavenshill, evidently under the es- citoment of these new feelings of hope and joy wherewith the letter had inspired him. "But for heaven's sake, breathe not a syllable- " " No, sir — not " a syllable to a soul. Believe me, I am incapable of such foUy and treachery :" — and with these words, I hastened away, my heart rejoicing at the sudden change which had been eflected by the billet in the mind of Mr. Eavenshill. I did not see ray young master any more that evening; and when I descended from my bod- room at the usual hour in the morning, I foimd three or four of the servants, together with Thomas Austin and the other men in possession, con- versing in an excited way, relative to an incident that appeared to be involved in some degree of mystery. " It's of no use a-talking like this here," said Tom Austin, as he cut a piece of cold meat on a slice of bread, and began munching the little refection to stay his stomach ere breakfast should be served up : " it's my dooty to see as how the doors and gates is all locked afore going up to bed ; and I'll be on my salwation hoath that I see the back-door and the garden-gate all as right as trivets." "But who could have gone out, then, in the middle of the night — or else early this morning before anybody was up ?" demanded one of the footmen angrily. " It must lie with some of you chaps," — addressing himself scornfully to the men in possession : " and I for one don't mean to be got into a scrape by any such nonsense as this." As I listened to the colloquy which was thus progressing, a vague suspicion stole into my mind ; and I looked about for Charles Linton, in order to see whether he had as yet been up to call Mr. Eavenshill, — who, I should observe, was ac- customed to rise early. But I could not find him ; and I soon perceived that the work specially belonging to Charles, was not yet commenced. I ascended to his chamber : he was not there. I went down stau's again — waited for another half- hour — and then inquired of some of my fellow- servants if they had seen Charles ? The response was in the negative : so I took a pitcher of hot water ; and again ascending the stairs, proceeded this time to Mr. Eavenshill's apartment. It was unoccupied; and on the table lay a letter ad- dressed to his lordship. I then knew that my suspicion was correct : — Mr. Walter had evidently fied! I took the letter — went down stairs — and com- municated the circumstance. The domestics were all astonished ; and they instantaneously began speculating and conjecturing what this sudden dis- appearance could mean : for it was clear enough that ACr. Eavenshill was gone, and that Charles Linton had accompanied him. The general and most natui'al supposition was, that our young mas- ter had departed in order to avoid being dragged into an alliance Mith Miss Boustcad : though none of the servants were aware that this marriage had been so positively and definitely fixed for that very day. I could perhaps have thrown a little more light on the subject — for it was evident enough to me that Mr. Walter had found a far more suitable bride in the fair writer of the billet, than in the ugly and affected Euphemia : but I held my peace, and hastened to take the letter which my young master had left, to his lordship. The nobleman had only just descended to the breakfast-parlour as I entered; and the moment I made my appearance, he said, " What, have the letters come so early ?" " No, my lord," I answered — but with some de- gree of hesitation; for I foresaw that a fearful shock was about to be occasioned by the letter I carried — " I found this, ray lord, on — on the table in Mr. EavenshUl's " " What ! where is Mr. Eavenshill ? where is my son F" ejaculated his lordship, seized with misgiv- ings that were painfully evident : and he snatched up the letter from the silver salver — then tearing it open, gave vent to a low but agonized ejacula- tion, as his eyes glanced at the first few lines. I -withdi'ew from the breakfast-room, and pur- posely avoided returning immediately to the servants' hall — as I did not wish to be questioned. I went and walked in the garden irntU I thought breakfast was ready : and on re-entering the house, I foimd the utmost excitement prevailing amongst the domestics. His lordship had been found in a 80 JOSEPH WII-M:0T; OB, THE ITEMOIBS OP A MAK-gI;RTANr. fit in tlie breakfast-room : her ladyship Tras instan- taneously made acquainted with the cireurftstance ; — and she, on reading the letter which was dis- covered lying open on the carpet as it had. dropped from her husband's hand, had likewise fainted away. They had however both been recovered without the necessity of sending for medical assist- ance ; and from the broken sentences to which they had given utterance on coming back to con- sciousness, enough was gleaned to make those who attended upon them, acquainted with what had happened. Mr. Walter had indeed stealthily taken his departure, in order to avoid a match that was hateful to him, and to form another alliance where his heart was already engaged. In the course of an hour his lordship was suffi- ciently recovered to write a letter, which was immediately sent oflf to its destination. This was to Mr. Boustead ; and it was by no means difficult to conjecture that it was for the purpose of an- noxmcmg the definitive breaking off of the match between Mr. EavenshUl and his daughter. A couple of hours later, a postchaise-and-four arrived from the town : for Lord EavenshUl and his wife were now about to leave their stately mansion — perhaps for ever. Although it was difficult to experience much sympathy for this thoroughly selfish and worldly- minded couple, it was nevertheless painfid to reflect that after having all their lives been accus- tomed to ride in splendid eqmpages of their own, they were now reduced to the necessity of travel- ling in a hired one — and this too on the occasion of bidding farewell to the home where they had been wont to entertain such brUliant assemblages, and where they had revelled in the enjoyment of every luxury. By his lordship's express command, the domestics aU remained in the servants' hall, at the moment of departure, — with the exception of one valet and one lady's-maid, who were to accom- pany them. Their pride was dominant until the very last : they could not endiu-e the thought of passing out of that mansion, ruined and \mdone, in the presence of those who had been the wit- nesses of their splendour. Not even the old hall- porter was suffered to remain at his post, as Lord and Lady Eavenshill thus issued forth. But doubtless conjecture was busy in the servants' hall, at the time, as to the spectacle which the noble- man and his wife presented to the two domestics whom they had chosen to follow them in this phase of their broken fortunes. Terrible must have been their feeUngs, as they descended the superb staircase — as they passed through the spacious hall — as they crossed the marble threshold — and as they entered a vehicle the appearance of which was sordid and wretched to a degree, in comparison with their own travelling-barouche with its emblazoned panels and its luxurious cushions. Doubtless that old lord exerted aU his energfy to conquer his emotions : and doubtless the severe pride of her ladyship made her keep back her tears as she clung to her husband's arm. At length the post-chaise was rolling along the shady avenue towards the park-gate : but every featm-e of the scenery — every tree which was thus passed — every glimpe of a browsing deer or frisking fawn, must have conjured up bitter, bitter asso- ciations of the past in the minds of that ruined nobleman and his ujihappy lady. Shortly after the post-chaise had departed, the steward summoned the domestics one by one into his own room, and informed us that by agreement between his lordship and the mortgagees who had seized upon the estate, we were all to be paid in fuU — ^for which purpose the funds woiUd be forth- coming on the foUowing day. A computation was made of the arrears due to eaeh ; and it was im- derstood that, as we were aU to leave on the morrow, a month's wages woxild be given us ia addition. On the foUowing day the sale of the furniture and personal property commenced. From an early hour, vehicles of aU kinds began arriving in rapid succession : and persons on foot, likewise, made their appeai'ance in considerable numbers from the adjacent town. Noblemen, gentlemen, and latlies, dweUing in the neighbourhood, came in their car- riages for the purpose of selecting such articles as they might fancy to purchase, — some remaining to bid for them in person, others empowering agents to conduct the business on their behalf. Furni- ture-brokers, dealers in objects of vertu and cui-i- osity, goldsmiths and jewellers, and a tolerable sprinkling of the Jewish fraternity, — some from the town, some from Exeter, others from remoter placM, and others even from London — congregated at Charlton Hall. The place was like a fair : gaiety, business, and bustle pervaded the scene : — of sympathy for the ruined and self-exUed famUy, there was none ! Several solicitors and Sheriff's-officers were like- wise in attendance : the men in possession ap- peared foU of importance, and gave themselves extraordinary airs, — with the exception of Tom Austin, who was excessively drunk as early as eight o'clock on this memorable morning; and who, having been missed for some three or four hours, was at length discovered sitting in the beer- cellar with his back propped up against the ale- barrel, — a sUce of bread, a piece of cold meat, and his clasp-knife lying beside him, — he being actuaUy too far gone even to cut his food or convey it to his lips. But it was about ten o'clock when the sale commenced, — the auctioneer removing from room to room as he successively disposed of their cjutcnts in detaU. The spectacle for one who could sympathize with the ruined family, was of an exceeding moiu'nful interest. Articles which had evidently cost large sums when originally purchased, were now knocked down at compara- tively trifling amounts : furniture, plate, china, time-pieces, mantle ornaments, lustres, candelabra, pictures, curiosities, and valuables of aU sorts, were thus rapidly disposed of;^and though the auc- tioneer did his business quickly, yet was it evident that the sale must last for three or four days. Thus was it that aU the accumulations which had been made to gratify refined taste, to constitute the means of luxury, and become accessories to the splendour and magnificence of the RavenshUl famUy, — were being scattered hither and thither — faUing into fresh hands — finding new owners. It was a scene from which the most touching as weU as the sternest morals might be deduced, — this breaking up of an almost princely estabHshment — this severing and dispersing of the countless evi- dences of lordly luxm-j» and patrician splendoui- ! A little before noon, the carriage of the Bou- steads arrived at the mansion ; and I must confess JOSEPH WILMOT ; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF A ILIX-SEEVANT. 81 that I was infinitely surprised on beholding^ the two ladies, as well as the capitalist himself, alight. Mrs. Boustead talked very loud in her bassoon- like Toice, — evidently for the behoof of all who were near enough to listen : but the principal string upon which she harped, was the fall which the pride of the Eavenshills had experienced. Eu- phemia affected to laugh and giggle as if it were all most delightful sport for her ; and it was easy to perceive that she experienced a bitterly spiteful satisfaction at the contemplation of a scene in the midst of which she had the bad taste to show her- self. The Bousteads became large purchasers,—' the capitalist himself buying plate and pictures, — the ladies lavishing their money upon all kinds of ornamental articles and nick-nacks. But I will not dwell longer on this scene. Suffice it to say that in the course of the afternoon, the steward received from the mortgagees' soli- citor the requisite funds to fulfil his engagements 11 to the servants generally; and to each of the males did he give a written character — whUe the housekeeper did the same towards the female portion of the household. I received my money and my certificate as well as the rest; and the omnibus-van was got in readiness to convey to the town those who thought fit to avail them- selves of this convenience. 1 knew not what course to pursue : I longed to ask my fellow-servants for some advice — but they were all so busy on their own account that I feared to trouble them. I felt as if I were again to be thrown friendless upon the wide world. I had however plenty of ready money in my possession, and an excellent testimonial of character : but these circumstances were not a sufficient consolation to dispel that sense of utter loneliness which I experienced. All the other servants had either relatives or friends ready to receive them, or plans ready formed for prompt adoption : whereas I had not a single human 82 Joseph: wit-5iot; or, the lME:^roT^g of a MATJ'-i?.i;r.TA:NT. being to wiiom 1 could ily, and no settled pui-pose in view. It was however necessary to leave tlie Hall : but before I quitted my cliamber, I sat down and wept, — for to me it was a home to which I was about to bid farewell ! Having put off my livery and resumed my plain clothes, I entered the omnibus which was filled with my fellow-servants. They were all so busy in conversing amongst themselves that but little attention was paid to me :— not that this arose from any actual callousness or heartless indiffer- ence on their part : it was simply thoughtlessness — and I felt too unhappy to obtrude myself upon their attention. When we reached the town, there was a general leave-taking amongst us all : my fellow-servants hurried off in different direc- tions—and I was left alone at the tavern where the vehicle had stopped. It drove away on its rctuin to Charlton Hall ; and as I watched its de- parture, methought its disappeai-ance was the severance of the last link which had thus for one year bound me to the Eavcnshill family. CHAPTEE. XIX. THE TIVEiXOKS OF MTSTLE LODGE. As I have already said, it was a small tavern where I had thus been set down ; and the land- lord began overwhelming me with questions, — as to all that was going on at "the Hall, how the sale ■was progressing, whether there were m.rEA>' ? Os arriving at the tavern where I ha 1 taken up my temporary quarters in Exeter, I inquired of the landlord for any means of conveyance by which my trunk might be borne to Myrtle Lod«^e. He answered that a carrier's van would pass that way at about five o'clock : and that there was no public vehicle proceeding along the same road at a later hour. I had been ordered to make my appearance at the Lodge at half-past eight : and I did not like to anticipate the time. Besides, I was desirous to ramble through Exeter, and see whatsoever might be worth beholding. I therefore resolved upon forwarding my trunk by the carrier's van, with directions that it should be left at that cottage which was at the entrance of the grounds, and which (as I subsequently discovered) was dignified by the name of the porter's lodge. Having made this arrangement, and paid the carrier his charge, I took some refreshment ; and then walked out into the city. It was now about four o'clock in the afternoon ; and I felt that I must not over-fatigue myself, as I had already performed a journey on foot of six miles, and had three more to do in the evening in order to reach my new homo. I therefore sauntered leisurely along ; and inquiring my way to the cathedral, amiised myself with the contemplation of this superb edifice until the dusk begau to close in between five and six o'clock. I was retracing my way to the tavern, in order to take some tea and have an hour's rest previous to setting off for Myrtle Ledge, — ^when at the comer of a street I suddenly beheld an object which made me shrink with mingled horror and dismay into the nearest shop. This object was none other than Mr. Lanover ! I felt such a sickening at the heart— such a gLieial terror, too, seizing upon me — that I literally staggered into that shop ; and sank like one ex- hausted, or about to faint, upon a cliair. A young person who stood behind the counter, thinking I was imwcl!, offered me a g'.ass of water ; and somewhat recalled to myself by being thus ad- dressed in a kind and sympathizing voice, I glanced rapidly around. It happened to be a pastry-cook's shop where I had thus taken refuge from the pre- sence of that loathed and dreaded being; and I asked for a bottle of soda-water. This was promptly supplied; and the beverage refifeshed m?. But now I knew not how to act. I thought that I dared not venture forth with a chance of encoun- tering the man whom I was compelled to regard as my mortal enemy ; — and yet what excuse could I make for lingering in that shop ? Summoning all my courage to my aid,— and reflecting that whatsoever evil intentions Mr. Lanover might have towards me, he could not dare perpetrate a crime in the open street, and in the midst of a populous neighbourhood, — I determined upon sallving forth. The instant I crossed the threshold, I glanced in the direction of the spot where I had soen Mr. Lanover standing : but what was my suprise, and how strong were the imdefinable feelings which sprang up within me, when on that very same spot — instead of the hideous humpback — my eyes at once settled on the lovely coimtenance of Annabel .'' I was not a dozen y.urds from her ; and there she stood, alone — but wiih her eyes fixed upon the interior of another shop ; and I at once concluded that she was waiting ftr her father, who was uc doubt inside. It >ra3 not yet conipktely dusk JOSEPH wilmot; on, ttih irK-\roin3 op a iiax-seryaxt. 87 and moreoTer, just at the very instr.ut that I thus caught eight of her features, a light springing up in the shop-window, suddenly flung its glare upon that counteuanco of such angelic beauty. And she was dressed in that same modest and becoiiiing manner which she adopted, wlien I first knew her : she was even plainly dressed: — nothing mere- tricious — nothing showy nor gaudy in her garb, — nothing bold nor forward in her demeanour. On the contrary, there was a certain visible timidity in her lock, as if annoyed and alarmed at even being left for a feiv miaatos standing alone on the pavement. In short, with a single glance did I perceive that she was the same innocent-looking, modest, and bashful Annabel that I had first known and whom I had learnt to love so fondly — aye, with all the afiection of my boyish heart ! Oh, had she left that profligate Sir Alalcolm "VVaven- ham ? had she retiu-ned, so fai- as a once fallen girl can return, into the path of rectitude ? was she thus plainly and modestly apparelled in atone- meat, as it were, for the too gauzy garb she had worn at the theatre, and for the rich raiment in which she was clad when I beheld her dashing past on a proudly cai'eoring steed, near the village of Charlton ? Alas, the thought struck me at the instant, that she must be a consummate mistress of dissiinulation and hypocrisy — ^mcre girl though ehe were — if she could thus so easily resume that outward appearance of vu-ginal innocence and modest ingenuousness which used to characterize her, and which now again she wore. Eut, Oh ! to speak to her for a moment if only for a moment — at any risk — at all hazards Yes, even the very dread and horror in which I stood of her father, were over-ruled by this earnest longing at that instant. All these thoughts swept through my mind in the space of a few swiftly fleeting seconds ; and issuing forth from the shade of the confectioner's doorway, I accosted her — at the same moment makirig her a quick sign not to give vent to any ejaculation which might reach the ears of her father. She beheld me : she comprehended that sign. Indeed, without it she would have been upon her guard : for she flung a rapid, penetrating glance into the shop, near the threshold of which ehe was standing. "Annabel !" I murmured, as I clasped the hand which she at once extended towards me ; and I knew not at the moment whether my sensations of joy or of pain chiefly predominated. '• O Joseph, I am so gbd to meet you !" — and she stopped short, evidently overpowered by her emotions : fox the tears were gushing down her cheeks. " Dearest Annabel," I quickly answered, — "for dear you must ever be to me, no matter in what circumstances you may be placed Oh ! you know not how I. have wept and sorrowed on your behalf 1" '■' And I also for you, Joseph !" she responded in the soft melting tones of her silvery voice : and heavens ! how beautiful did she appear at that moment : for a rich carnation mantled upon her cheeks — and her lovely azure eyes swam with a bashful tenderness. " But tell mo — are you happy, Joseph ?" — and then those eyes, so soft and melt- ing, surveyed me quickly from head to foot, as if to judge of my circumstances by my appearance. '■'You are struggung successfully witli tlie world- arc you not, Joseph?" she immediately added, evidently satisfied by the survey : for I was well drcsEcd in a suit of plain clothes, which I had pur- chased only a few weeks previously, and in painful anticipation at the time of the brcaking-up of the establishment at Chai'Iton Hall. " Yes — I am earning my bread," I answered, — " but in that same capacity in which you last savr mc — I mean as a domestic servant But you, Annabel — do tell mc — have you altogether Ob, T dare not complete tho question ! You know what I mean ?" Strange was the look with which for an instant she regarded me — a look which I could scarcely comprehend ! But all in an instant it changed yes. it changed into one of terror and dismay, — as glancing towards the shop, she said with feverish excitement, " Fly, Joseph — for heaven's sake, fly !" I pressed her hand — and in a morxient was speeding along the street. A diverging one was neai": I plunged into it, without daring to look behind : for I comprehended but too well what she meant : — her father, Mr. Lanover, was issuing forth from the shop at the instant she thus in ter- rified anxiety urged me to flight ! I ran on, until within a dozen yards of the tavern : then I relaxed my pace, and looked back to see if I were pursued. But neither in the gathering gloom in the middle of tl'.c street — nor in tho flood of light wliich the shop-fronts now threw upon the pavement on either side — could I discern the horiiblc form of the humpback. I entered the tavern, and ordered some tea. While I sat drinking it, all my thoughts were centred in Annabel. "Was there not some strange mystery surrounding this young creature ? was she not a singular and incomprehensible being? All' within the space of some fourteen months, I had seen her under a variety of phases, — first tho modest, innocent, artless girl, ministering with all the sanctity of filial afi'ection to an invalid mother- — then siiddenly bursting, as it were, upon my presence in tho meretricious garb and dazzling lustre of a stage— then gallopping past mo in a splendid riding-habit, with waving plumes in her hat, and in the company of a notorious j)rofligate — now once more the modest and ingenuous girl, with innocence written upon her brow, whatso- ever consciousness of guilt there might bo in the secret depths of her soul. Oh ! and could this be the same Annabel who quitted me so abruptly at the theatre, and who sent out a message to the eflect that she knew me not ? — was that the same Annabel with tJiis one who but a few minute* back had greeted me with such unmistakable joy, amidst such overpowering emotions, and with a modest blush rising to her cheeks as she gave me the assm'anco that she had often and often thought of me and wept in so thinking ? Was this the same Annabel ? Yes, yes— it was ! But how could I account for all those varied phases in which I had beheld her— unless it were by the belief that she must indeed be a thorough adept in the wiles of dissimulation, and that the artlessness of her looks w.as only equalled by the artfulness of Ler soul ? Cruel, cruel thought — a thought which wrung tcai's from my eyes — a thought which I could not repel, and which nevertheless was too dreadful to be associated with a young girl whose age was only a few months past sixteen ! Such were the reflections which swept through my mind after this singular, brief, and most im- expected meeting with Annabel. And though feeling myself compelled by the OTerwhelming weight of circumstances to think thus disparag- ingly of her, nevertheless my soul yearned towards her — my heart waa her's Yes, were the name of Annabel synonymous with pollution itself, it ■were impossible to help loTing her ! There may be poison in the cup of honey — but it will still have its sweetness: there may be venom in the goblet of sparkling wine — but it will still possess its fascinations : there may be death in the per- fume of some beauteous flower — but it will not the less retain the brilliancy of its charms. Oh ! are not the apples on the shore of the Dead Sea de- lightful to the eye, though they contain ashes at their core ? — is not the shade cf the upas grate- ful to the way-worn traveller: but is there not death in its umbrageous canopy ? From such reflections as these my mind was gradually turned into another channel of medita- tion,— yet scarcely another, but merely a current of the same stream. I thought of Mr. Lanovei's presence ia Exeter. What could it be for ? Was he iu search of me ? If o — I scarcely feared this : for if he had obtained a clue to my whereabouts, he could not have failed to trace me from Charl- ton Hall to the tavern where I was now seated. Had he not rather come into Devonshire for the purpose of reclaiming his daughter from the com- panionship of an unprincipled profligate ? — and if this were the case, how could he be, after all, so bad a man as to have entertained a murderous de- sign upon my life ? But did he intend to remain in this neighboui'hood ? K so, I shoidd not be safe — I must not dream of entering upon the situa- tion which I had accepted in the morning : I must fly, and place an interval of himdreds of miles be- tween myself and the dreadful humpback ! But my box was already at its destination ; and I could not afi"ord to lose all the little personal property I possessed in the world. Besides, I must take coui-age — I must exercise caution — I must keep a good look-out, and notice, when at Myrtle Lodge, whether my movements should be watched and my footsteps dogged. The more calmly I reasoned, the fainter grew my fear that Lanover intended to settle at Exeter, or to remain in the neighbour- hood. If he had really come for the purpose of recovering and reclaiming his daughter — as I fii'mly believed — it was by no means likely he would tarry with her in the same district where dwelt the individual from whom he must have thus obtained her. Exeter was but about twenty- three miles from Sir Malcolm Wavenham's seat ; and it would be sheer madness for Mr. Lanover to keep his daughter within so limited a range from that point. The result of my deliberations was that I would proceed to Myrtle Lodge according to my original intention ; — and having paid my biU at the tavern, I set out on the walk of thi-ee miles that lay before me. It was only half-past seven when I thus took my departure : I had an hour at my command — and this was ample for the performance of such a journey. It was a beautiful evening : the fresh breeze of the day was lulled into a per- fect calm : the sky was cloudless, with the excep- tion of a few thin fleecy vapours, like an assem. Wage of snow-flakes, floating at a great height. Emerging from the city, I soon entered upon the road: but as it gradually grew more and more lonely, I could not prevent certain vague fears from stealing into my mind. Ah! and then I recollected those painful and wearying night- journeys which I had performed when escaping from Mr. Jukes at Leicester; and though my position was now, thank heaven ! considerably ameliorated in one respect, yet in another it was frightfully altered. For then I had only the fear of being captured and dragged to a workhouse; whereas now I entertained the di-ead of being overtaken by a horrible monster who spught my life. Striving hard, howeverj to conquer my ap- prehensions, I pursued my way briskly ; and again did all my thoughts centre themselves on the image of Annabel. Oh, that the interview had been longer ! — Oh, that it should have been con- fined to the insignificant space of a couple of minutes ! Had I not so much to say to her — so much to learn from her lips — so many questions to ask her ? Had her father discovered that it was through her generous self-sacrificing kindness I had escaped from his murderous aim ? — was it his cruelty that had driven her forth to seek a livelihood upon the stage, and thus be led into those temptations to which she had succumbed, and fr-om the trammels of which he appeai-ed to have at last rescued her ? And what had become of her mother ? These, and countless other ques- tions, should I have put to Annabel, if I had been permitted the leisure. While thus giving way to my reflections, I reached a lonely little inn — or more correctly speaking, an alehouse — which stood by the road- side about two miles fr'om Exeter, and conse- quently about a mile from Myrtle Lodge. A car- riage, drawn by a splendid pair of horses, had stopped in front of this little hosteh-y. The coach- man sat upon the box, ready to di-ive on : a foot- man stood by the open door of the vehicle, evidently expecting some one to come forth from the alehouse and resume his seat within. The brilliant lamps of the cai-riage thi-ew theii- lustre upon the two noble animals, and on the ground where they stood. I felt tired with the briskness of my walk : I knew that I had plenty of time to spare — and I sat down to rest for a few minutes on a bench in fr-ont of the alehouse. Scarcely had I placed myself there, when a gentleman issued forth, — exclaiming, methought in a half-tipsy tone, " Yes, Master Boniface, your ale is capital ! My tlu-oat was as parched as the devil with thirst when I halted to partake of it; and now it ia quenched. Good night." " Good night. Sir Malcolm," answered the land- lord : and the gentleman hastened towards the carriage. Ah, this was Sir Malcolm Wavenham! The first tones of his voice had smitten familiarly upon my ear, while his back was stUl turned towards me ; and even before the landlord addressed him by name, I was startled with the conviction that it was he. All of a sudden a terrible suspicion flashed to my mind. The carriage was evidently on its IK &y from Exeter : was it possible that it was bearing ofl" Annabel from her father, back to tha JOSEPH "WILMOT ; OE, THE MEMOIES OE A MAN-SEKVAKT abode of the profligate Baronet ? I know not why thia fancy should have so abruptly seized upon me : but certain is it that it did ;— and almost frenzied by the idea, I sprang towards the vehicle. Past Sir Malcolm "Wavenham did I bound as if I were mad ; and dashing up to the door which the foot- man held open, I looked in. Yes — there was light sufficient for me to behold a covmtenance which made me ejaculate, " Heavens ! is it possible you coidd have done this ?" At the same instant I was seized on the collar by the powerful arm of the footman, and whirled round with such force that I was dashed up against a horse-trough in front of the inn. The loud roystering laugh of Sir Malcolm Wavenham rang in my ears ; and by the time I recovered myself, the equipage was rushing away, — its lights glancing like twin comets along the road, until a bend thereof suddenly veiled them from the view. "You got that nicely, young feller, for your 12 imperence !" shouted the landlord, with a loud guffaw, from the threshold of his house. " Why, what the dooce could you mean by it P I never seed sich a mad freak in all my life. What the dooce did you want going to stare in at the lady?" I hurried on, partly in the wild hope of over- taking the carriage — partly to escape from the coarse and brutal jesting of the landlord. I was soon out of breath : but I had run at least a couple of hundred yards ere I recollected the futile absurdity of thinking to catch up the vehicle. Then I sat down by the way-side, and burst into tears. " lost, lost Annabel !" I exclaimed : " what ia now to become of thee ? Art thou so wedded to that vile profligate Wedded! I wish thou wast," I cried, in bitter repetition of that word which I had at first used in another sense : and then agaia I wept abundantly. 90 JOSEPH WILirOT ; OB, THE MEMOIRS OP A MAK-SEHVAXT. For several minutes I Tvas so overcome -nith grief, that I forgot my own present circimistances — forgot tbat I was on my way to enter upon a new situation : but at length I grew compai-atively calm, and continued my route. During the rest of the walk, the image of Annabel absorbed all my reflections ; and it was in a kind of mechanical manner that I stopped at the gate leading into the grounds attached to Myrtle Lodge.* I knocked at the door of that miserable-looking hut which stood near the gate; and it was opened by a thin emaciated female, who seemed half-starved. A boorish-looking man, in the smock-frock and lea- ther gaiters of a farm-labourer, was smoking hjs pipe by the side of the fire — if an oimce of fuel, with scarcely enough heat to boil as much -water as an egg-saucepan would contain, deserved to be so denominated. I asked if the carrier had left my trunk ? — the woman replied in the affirmative ; and the man said he had just come back from taking it up to the Lodge, — ladding a hint that he thought the task was worth something to drink. I accordingly gave liim sixpence, which his wife im- mediately pounced upon, — vowing in a querulous voice that it should not go to the ale-house, but should be put into the money-box. Neither of them asked me in to sit down ; and as I continued my -way towards the Lodge, I could not help thinking that everybody I had as yet seen in con- nexion with my new place -was thin and scraggy, and either had a hungry or a half-starved look. I was however too unhappy on Annabel's account to ponder many moments upon these things : but continued my way, thinkii^ of t»h»t fair being until I reached the house. Passing round to the back of the premises, I rang the bell at the seiTants' witranee ; and it was answered by the glum-lookiag man-eervant whom I had seen canning the poodles, and whose Christian names were John Robert. He gave a sort of grunt on beholding me ; and as I took this to be his peculiar mode of bestowing a greeting, I addressed him very civilly in return. He how- ever said not another word — but led the way into the servants' room, which was separated by a narrow passage from the kitchen. There I found those whom I had now to consider my fellow- domestics. These consisted of the cook, the lady's- maid, and a housemaid, — so that, including John Robert and myself, the domestic establishment was limited to five persons — little enough, I thought, for so large a mansion ! But I was completely taken by surprise, — and the reader himself may smile when I inform him, — that the cook and the housemaid were as lean and scraggy as John Robert and the lady's-maid, both of whom I had previously seen. I never saw such a meagre skele- ton of a cook in my life ; and though all the victuals might pass through her hands, it appeared to me as if she could certainly have very little discretionary power as to the disposal of them. The servants were seated at supper when I entered ; and the greeting T received, consisted of a few cold brief words from each. On the table there was a piece of cheese, or rather the crust of one — a very small modicum of bread — some brown mugs — and a tiu can of beer, which turned out io be particularly small indeed. This was in realiiy a frugal repast, -and one to which the strictest anchorite might haTe sat down without the slightest apprehension of being seduced into intemperance either in ealin^^ or drinking. The cook desired me to take a chair and have my supper. Fortunately the incident which oc- curred during my walk, in respect to the Baronet's travelling-carriage, had taken away my appetite : otherwise the walk itself would perhaps have sharpened it beyond a reUsh for the sorry fare which stood before me, and which contrasted un- pleasantly enough with the suppers of cold joints and meat-pies to which I was wont to sit down at Charlton HaU. I was however thirsty ; but having taken a mouthful of the beer, I found it so ex- ceedingly sour that I requested permission to drink water. Little conversation took place amongst the servants : and if they did not exhibit any cheer- fiUness or gaiety, they were equally deficient in curiosity, — the questions they put to me, being very few in number. There seemed to be a generally pervasive moumfulness amongst them, as if they were all under the influence of a dull vague terror : they spoke in subduoti voices — they appeared like persons who, being eowed and spu'it- broken, entertained a common sense of degrada- tion and oppression beneath the iron Tale of a stem discipline. I ^nyself was in wretched bad sph-its on account of the incident during my walk thither; and the cold gloom of the scene in the midst of which I now fotmd myself was but little calculated to raise me up from desjiendeney. But it seemed so natural to my fellow-servants in my new place that I sbould be thus daall and melan- choly, that not one of them tbougfat of inquiring the reason. Precisely at half -past nine the parlour -bell rang — the servants all stood np — ^and a procession was formed, the ladVs-maid leading the way, the cook following, the footman coming next, then the housemaid — and I was bidden to close the rear. J could not possibly make out what this Teas for : mo explanation was volunteered : perfect silence reigned amongst the servants : and the procession moved slowly along, just as if we were mourners at a funeral. We ascended the stairs — we entered the parlour with the regularity and order of a disciplined squad of soldiers; and in the same formal array we took seats at the extremity of the room where the door was situated. I had noticed down stairs in the servants* apartment, that there was no fu-e although the October evening was cold — and that there was but a single miserable tallow candle that did not burn much better than a rushlight. I now ob- served that things were but little more Cheerful in the parlour. There was no fire in the grate : and though two mould candles stood on the table, only one was lighted. Could all this be through the mean stinginess of the master and mistress of the house ? was the question I asked myself; and I certainly could not account for it in any other way. The spacious parlom- was wrapped in a sombre gloom ; and in the midst of the semi- obscurity I observed Mr. Tiverton sitting on one side of the table— Lady Georgiana, starch, stifl^ and prim, on the other — and Miss Dakin at the upper end, with a couple of books before h-er. I now therefore comprehended wherefore the domes* tics bad been thus solemnly marshalled : it w^ for family prayers. JOSEPH WIIMOT; Olt, THTE MEMOIES OF A MAN-SEEVANT. 91 Miss Dakin deferentially inquired in a low voice if she should begin : whereupon Mr. Tiverton and Lady Georgiana both slightly inclined their heads in solemn assent ; and the toady accordingly com- menced I'eading the prayers in a voice which she endeavoured to render as intensely miserable as she possibly' could. I glanced along the array of my fellow-servants, and noticed that they all wore a similarly lugubrious aspect, — John Eobert es- pecially looking awfully unhappy, and the cook pursing up her mouth as if she had a deep sense of self-mortification for no end of sins and wicked- nesses which she had committed. At the termi- nation of the first prayer, I was literally startled by the cavern-like gloom and sepulchral depth of tone with which John Eobert groaned forth "Amen!" — for I found that it was a portion of his duties to enact the clerk. The service lasted for precisely twenty minutes ; at the expiration of which every one — master, mistress, the toady, and the servants — all biu-ied their faces in their hands for three minutes more — an example which I of course imitated. The signal to desist from this dumb show was a low half-stifled sound, be- trween a groan and a griint, on the part of John Robert : then we all rose, and solemnly marched forth from the parlour, — descending T.ith the due regularity of a procession into the servants' room again. Two or three minutes afterwards the clock in the kitchen struck ten ; and then, as if everything were managed with the precision of that same clock -v.'ork which was in motion at the time, each of the domestics took a candle — lighted it — and with a solemn " Good night " to each other, began moving up-stairs. The housemaid showed me to my chamber, where I found my trunk ; and ere she closed the door, she said in a low voice, " You are only allowed five minutes to get to bed ; and whether in bod or not, the light must be put out. That piece which you have got,"' she added, pointing to the little end of candle which was bm*ning in the socket of the stick, " will have to last you a whole week." She then closed the door ; and I found myself alone in a small attic just unri^r the tiles, — sor- didlj' furnished, and not particularly c'ean. I by no means liked the aspect of my new place : but I was still too low-spirited to devote much thought to the little circumstances which had already created this dislike. Being much fatigued, I was in bed before the prescribed five minutes had elapsed — and the light was out. But scarcely had I extinguished it, when I heard footsteps passing slowly along the corridor whence the servants' attics opened : then suddenly there was a loud and authoritative knock at one of those doors— and Mr. Tiverton's voice exclaimed, '-'John Eobert, your light is not out — and the five minutes have passed by at least three-quarters of a minute by my watch." The steps advanced again, stopping for a mo- ment at every door, until they halted at mine, — whence however Mr. Tiverton departed, no doubt satisfied, by the simple process of peeping through the key-hole, that I was in strict accordance with the rules of the house. I soon fell asleep, not- withstanding my .€orrowful reflections— for I was exhausted alike in mind and body ; and I have no doubt I should have slept on imtil a late hour in the morning, had I not been suddenly startled by hearing a large bell clanging as if it were just over my head. I subsequently ascertained that it was on the house-top — but literally over my head ; for it was perched upon the tilings just above my attic. "Ten minutes to wash and di-ess !" spoke the deep lugubrious voice of John Eobert, as he knocked at my door. I sprang out of bed ; and not having as yet had my livery given out, resumed my own plain clothes. But I foxmd it somewhat difficult to per- form my ablutions and toilet within so limited a space of time, — having been accustomed at Charlton Hall, as well as at Mr. Delmar's, to take as long an interval as I required. On descending to the servants' room down stairs, I was told by John Eobert that I was just three minutes over my time — that as I was under him, he was answerable to his master and mistress for my proceedings — and that I must be more regular in future. At eight o'clock punctuallj^, we all marshalled om-selves again — ascended to the parlour — and heard prayers read by Miss Dakin : these lasted twenty minutes as on the previous evening, and John Eobert again officiated as clerk. On descending to our own region again, breakfast was served up, — this consisting of very weak tea and bread-and- butter cut enormously thick. There was no sugar, — the cook informing me that only a certain quan- tity was allowed by Lady Georgiana — that it was given out every Monday morning— that it could not possibly be made to last beyond Thursday evening — and that consequently there were always three days every week during which the servants had to dispense with the article entirely. There was not so much as a bone of cold meat allowed even to the footman ; and again I could not help contrasting all this direful meanness and studied sordiduess with the well-spread breakfast-table in the servants' apartment at Charlton Hall. I felt sure that if it ever happened that Mr. Thomas Austin were in possession at Myrtle Lodge, he would be starved out — his clasp-knife would ba rusted — and he would pine away with coerced temperance. At about noon I was sent for up into the par- lour, where I found the tailor with his measure in his hand, and who had evidently come about the livery. Two suits v.'hich had been worn by the page who preceded me, w^ere lying on a chau* ; and Mr. Tiverton told me to take one suit up to my chamber and put it on. While turning over the garments, I found that both suits were so well worn that I really could not tell which was the every-day one and which was intended for Sunday : whereupon Mr. Tiverton himself, putting on a pair of spectacles, assisted me to discriminate between the two — and a vei'y nice sense of discrimination he must have had to be enabled to do it. He gave me the every-day suit t and hastening up- stairs, I proceeded to put it on — or, I should rather say, to work myself into it ; for it was very evident that my predecessor must have been at least half a foot shorter than myself, and of mar- vellous leanness, though I was at the time of suf- ficiently slender shape. In short — and it tvas " short" — the suit did not fit me at all ; and I was really ashamed to descend in those garments, — the cufifs of the jacket not reaching near down to the wrists, the trousers only so far as the middle of 92 JOSEPH WILMOT; OB, THE MEMOIES OP A MAN-SPEYAST. the calf of the leg. But I fancied that Mr. Tiver- ton was not exactly the gentleman to have his instructions in any way deviated from : so I ac- cordingly went down stairs, feeling however that the figure I cut was most ludicrous. In the hall I met John Robert ; and as he surveyed me with a sort of sombre glumness, he suffered a low grunting groaning sound to escape him, — but whether it were in admiration or in deprecation of my appearance, I could not exactly determine. On entering the parlour, I found Lady Greorgiana and Miss Dakin both seated there, in company with Mr. Tiverton, — all three solemnly and gloomily silent, and apparently bent upon holding a council as to what was to be done with the liveries. The tailor— a short, dapper-looking, little man, with a very dirty face and very bowed legs —was standing at a respectful distance, fidgetting with his measure and looking ill at ease, as a person does when not asked to sit down, nor spoken to, and not knowing exactly what to do with himself or how to seem unconcerned. The moment I made my appearance, I saw that the countenances of Mr. Tiverton and Lady Georgiana became considerably elongated ; while Miss Dakin, — who was quite prepared, as usual, to assume any look which might be a reflection of that of her patroness, — made her own face of a correspondingly hatchet-Uke longitude. As for the tailor, his looks brightened up considerably with a sort of grimy I lustre: for he no doubt flattered himself that it would prove inevitably necessary to have a couple •; of new suits. "Well, for my part," said Lady Georgiana, after a long and ominous silence, " I don't at all see that these clothes cannot be altered to fit Joseph 'WH- mot. What do you think, Miss Dakin ?" " Oh, decidedly !" was the toady's quick response. " They are only a leetle too small for him — a mere trifle." " Yes, Mr. Pumpkin," resumed Lady Georgiana, thus addressing the tailor : " I think that you nmst take these suits and make them fit the lad. Tobserved to you yesterday," she added, turning to Miss Dakin, " that Joseph Wilmot was a trifle too tall, and that it was a pity : for I had these liveries in my eye at the time." " To be sure !" rejoined the toady : " your lady- ship is so very far-seeing." While this colloquy was progressing, Mr. Pump- kin began to look very rueful and very much dis- appointed: but Mr. Tiverton's countenance gra- dually assumed a sternly resolute aspect ; and then I saw him glance at his wife with an unmistakable malignity, as much as to imply that though she fancied she had settled the affair all in her own way, he would very soon teach her differently. Accordingly, rising up from his seat, he said, " No, Mr. Pumpkin — I won't go to the expense of having these old things done up." " Old?" ejaculated Lady Georgiana, in horrified amazement. "Old?" echoed Miss Dakin, in amazed hor- ror. " Well, worn out and shabby, then," exclaimed Mr. Tiverton. " Pumpkin, take the lad's measure at once ; and let him have a couple of new suits as quick as you can. Send him up new hats likewise, with new bands." "This extravagance, Mr. Tiverton, is into- lerable !" said the lady, in a tone of the sternest rebuke. " What do t/ou think. Miss Dakin ?" " Miss Dakin wUl please to hold her tongue on the subject," at once observed Mr. Tiverton. " Oh, to be sure !" said the toady, with a sort of hysterical giggle, as she likewise tossed her head indignantly. However, Mr. Tiverton was resolute. Mr. Pumpkin, infinitely rejoiced, took the measure j and I hastened up-stairs again to resume my plain clothes until the livery should come home. CHAPTER XXL A VISITEESS. This little incident gave me a considerable insight into the character of my new master, and showed me on what pleasant and agreeable terms he lived with his patrician wife. It was evidently a struggle between them who should be the supreme authority within those walls : but the husband failed not to seize upon any favourable opportimity of asserting his own dominant power. Though mean and stingy to a degree, he nevertheless suffered his pride to get the better of his sordidness in this matter of the liveries ; and to the circumstance of his being anxious to carry out his own will in direct opposition to that of his spouse, was I in- debted for my new garments and rescued from the necessity of wearing the old shabby ones. When the liveries came home, and I put on a new suit for the first time since I had entered my place, John Robert surveyed me with visible envy ; and as he cast a most rueful look over his own thread- bare and tarnished raiment, he gave vent to his alBicted feelings by means of his habitual half- groan, half-grunt. Before I properly resume the thread of my nar- rative, I must place on record a few more particu- lars relative to this family. That the meanness of my master and mistress were excessive, has already been shown ; and I speedily found that it extended to the minutest details. The number of servants being so limited, the amount of work allotted to each was most onerous ; and yet we never could give satisfaction : there was always something to complain about. Lady Georgiana paid a visit to the larder every morning, and appeared to mea- sure with her eyes every article of food, so as to eke it out with the nicest exactitude. She had a partiality for thin and ugly female-servants ; be- cause, as I understood, she considered that they made a household so much more respectable, inas- much as there was all the less chance of their laughing and giggling with individuals of the other sex. The whole routine of the establish- ment was regulated as it were by clock-work pre- cision ; and thus it was by no means difficult to comprehend how my unfortunate feUow-servants had been reduced to mere automatons — that they laboured under a continued depression of spirits— that they were afraid of talking too loud — ^while anything bordering on gaiety was totally out of the question. The only reason they retained their places and did not seek to "better themselves," was because Lady Georgiana made it a rule never to give a character with a servant who left her JOSEPH WTLMOT ; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAX-SERVANT. 93 voluntarily; — and what were these unfortunate beings to do if they cut themselves adrift upon the world without such an indispensable means of procuring other situations ? Besides, times were bad — numbers of household servants were out of place — and it was therefore considered better to have a bad situation than none at all. The Tivertons received very little company, and seldom gave parties. These were doubtless too expensive : for nothing could exceed their mean- ness and parsimony. The very candle-ends were counted : the tea and sugar were doled out in the smallest quantities : so much beer — and that of the vilest and sourest description — was allowed for a fortnight's consumption in the servants' room ; and if it were drunk up beforehand, the remainder of the period beheld water supplying its place. I have already hinted that Lady Georgiana and her husband did not live on the best possible terms together. She, in her aristocratic pride, looked do\\'n upon him as a viJgar member of the middle class ; while he, on his side, no doubt calculated that he should have done much better to marry the wealthy daughter of a London citizen than the portionless scion of a patrician family. They had no children ; and therefore to what end they strove and struggled to save and amass money, was rather a puzzling question. In this aim, however, there was a wondrous agreement of opinion between them, — with the occasional and far-distant exceptions of such instances as that to which I was indebted for my new liveries. As for Miss Dakin, she was one of the most contempti- ble of women, — fawning and cringing to Lady Georgiana — always taking her part in her disputes with her husband — and yet somehow or another contriving to keep on tolerably good terms with Mr. Tiverton himself. She was one of those beings who sell their independence of spirit — sell all their faculties of hearing, seeing, and thinking — for the miserable stipend which a patroness is willing to give. It was even surprising that Lady Georgiana allowed herself such a luxury as a "companion :" but perhaps the mystery may be explained by the fact that she needed some one to flatter her — some one to bear the bnmt of her ill-humours — some one to listen patiently to her tirades about the long ancestry from which she was descended — some one to assist in taking her part against her husband, and to corroborate her complaints that she was a very shamefully-used woman. Again, as Lady Georgiana had no children — and as even the most ill-conditioned of her sex generally feel the necessity of loving something — she kept poodles on which to bestow her attachment ; and these animals were the only living beings at Myrtle Lodge that were not stinted in their food and were cared for with some sort of tenderness. I had been about a month in my new place, when one day — having occasion to enter the par- loixr for some purpose — I foimd Miss Dakin seated there alone, knitting a pair of mittens for her patroness. I could not help noticing that she looked at me in a very peculiar way, and me- thought with a certain degree of confusion, which only rendered her uglier than she naturally was. "Joseph," she said, "I hope you are satisfied with your new place ? You may depend upon it, you have a very good friend in me ; and I do my best to save you from scoldings." " I am sure I am very much obliged to you. Miss," was my response : and I certainly marvelled that I should have thus won for myself the favour of this lady, as I had never taken any trouble to secure it. "Oh! you needn't thank me, Joseph," she at once replied, blushing and simpering. " Every- body that possesses a heart must like you. But, dear me ! liow awkwardly you have tied your neck- cloth ! I am sure that if Lady Georgiana saw it, she would scold you for being slovenly. Do let me arrange it properly for you." "I think, Miss, it will do very well as it " Oh, no ! indeed it will not !" — and flinging down her work. Miss Dakin flew towards me ; so that I was compelled to submit to this proof of her kindness. Her hands trembled very much, and kept coming in contact with my face. She blushed and simpered more and more ; and when she had done tying the cravat, she patted my cheek, saying, "You are a very handsome lad, Joseph ; Mid I " My countenance became crimson; and flinging an indignant look upon Miss Dakin, I tui-ned abruptly round and quitted the room. But that glance showed me that she had become aU in a moment as white as a sheet : she was literally quivering too with rage. From that time forth Sliss Dakin was a mortal enemy of mine. "Weeks passed on ; and as Christmas approached, it was whispered in the sei-vants' room that Lady Georgiana's youngest sister — or rather half-sister, for her father the Earl of Mandeville had man-ied twice — was coming on a visit to Myrtle Lodge. Though a shrewd, money-loving, parsimonious man, — worshipping Mammon for Mammon's sake — Mr. Tiverton had a particular weakness: and this was that he felt proud of being aUied to an aristocratic family, and therefore vain of parading any of his wife's relatives before his acquaintances. This will account for his having perhaps readily enough assented to the proposal of his spouse, that her sister Lady Calanthe Dundas shoidd be- come an inmate of Myrtle Lodge for a few weeks.. The meanest and most sordid, too, in a certain sphere of life, are apt to launch out somewhat at times, and on great occasions; and therefore the reader must not be surprised when I state that it was proposed to spend the Christmas season with some little gaiety at the Lodge. Prepara- tions were made for the reception of Lady Ca- lanthe : a new carpet and new draperies were actually and positively purchased for the chamber which she was to occupy; and invitations were issued for a dinner-party one day and a soiree for another, in the Christmas week. I was enlivened and cheered by these preliminary proceedings, which promised some reUef to the monotony of the existence we all led at Myrtle Lodge. My fellow-servants seemed to imbibe the same feeling j and even John Eobert was so animated with fresh life as to smile when a new suit of livery was ordered for him, — Mr. Pimipldn being engaged to supply it. At length the day arrived on which Lady Calanthe Dundas was expected. The cook must have felt herself quite another being when she had a reaUy good and copious repast to prepare for the dining-room, and was enabled, without any inter- >1 JOSEPH WILMOT ; OE, THE MEMOIRS OP A MAX-SEBTANT. ference on the part of her mistress, to sorre up a better dinner than usual in the domestics' apart- V ment. Lady Calanthe had never before visited the Lodr^e ; and therefore it was unknown what sort of a person she was — whether handsome or ugly — amiable or the reverse, — whether she resembled her sister, or afforded a pleasing contrast. Her very age was likewise a matter of doubt, although it was certain that she must be many years younger than Lady G-eorgiana. Not that my fellow-servants displayed any particidar anxiety upon these points : for the conjectm-es to which I beard them give utterance, were very few and ex- pressed feebly and timidly. I myself however did experience some curiosity ; because I felt assured that on the character and disposition of the expected visitress, would in a great measure de- pend the spii'it and the duration of those gaieties which, heaven knows ! were so much needed to dispel the soul- deadening gloom in which I had now for nearly three months lived at Myrtle Lodge. It was between four and five o'clock in the after- noon, that a travelling carriage with post-horses dashed up to the front door of the house. John Eobert and myself were promptly in attendance : Mr. Tiverton, Lady Georgiana, and Miss Dakin, like- wise came forth to receive the visitress. Then from the carriage descended a handsome, weU-dressed, smart-looking maid, whose age might be about five-and-twenty j and next a lady, mufEed in furs, placed a hand on the abigaU's shoulder and lightly tripped forth from the vehicle. The first glimpse that I obtained of her countenance by the light of the hall-lamp, showed ms that it was exceedingly beautifvd ; while the figure, even though encum- bered with its piles of winter clothing, was charac- terized by elegance and grace. With a gushing enthusiasm which at once gave me an insight into her heart, she flew towards her sister, whom she embraced affectionately : then in the most affable manner she gave her hand to Mr. Tiverton — and when introduced to Miss Dakin, shook hands with her also. Presently, when the dinner was served up and I was in attendance, I had a fuU oppor- tunity to make further observations in respect to Lady Calanthe Dundas. Her age did not exceed eighteen ; and, as before said, she was exceedingly beautiful. A cloud of the darkest, glossiest hair threw into bright and brilliant contrast the fair countenance which it enframed. She had a purely classic profile, — the straight nose joining the fore- head with only the slightest indentation. The upper lip was short and curved ; and whatsoever haughtiness of expression this feature would have otherwise imparted, was almost entirely mitigated by the sweetness of the smile which sat upon that coral mouth and which irradiated the entire face. Her eyes were large and dark : she had naturally but little colour on the cheeks — this however was now heightened by the cold frosty air through which she had travelled, and by the gay excite- ment produced by change of scene. In figure she was tall and slender — but admirably formed : while the statuesque carriage of the head and bust — the beauty of this bust — and the fine slope of the shoulders, would have constituted an exquisite model for a sculptor or a painter. There appeared to be no affectation, no aristocratic nonsense about this young lady : affable in manners, frank in speech, ingenuous in looks — with a certain becom- ing modesty spread over all — she was a being as yet unspoilt by the dissipations of London life, — in the same way too that her beauty was as yet undimmed and the bloom of her charms unfadcd by the heated atmosphere of gilded saloons. The lady's-maid, whose Christian name was Charlotte, has already been glanced at as a hand- some smart-looking young woman. I may now add that she was of gay disposition — ■ fond of laughing and talking — but without harm or mis- chief in her manner or disposition. She was ex- ceedingly good-natured ; and when she found what sort of persons she had to associate with at Myrtle Lodge, she seemed to set herself to work in good earnest to infuse a little more cheerfulness into them. I at once became a favourite with her, because I ventured to converse somewhat more openly and frankly than did my fellow-servants. She jested with John Robert on his rueful looks, though these were now cheerfuhiesa itself in com- parison with what they were wont to be ; and he condescended to smile at her remarks, instead of being angry : for indeed, it v/as scarcely possible for even the most churlish soul to feel offended with the good-natured chattering and bantering of Charlotte the lady's-maid. '■' Well," she exclaimed, before she had been an hour in the place, " you people seem excessively duU, — buried, as you are, in this out-of-the-way rural nook : but there is no reason- why you should not make the best of circumstances. What ? only one candle ! Fie ! I cannot possibly sit in the dark. Come, cook — ^let us have another. Oh! your mistress does not allow two candles — eh ? Well, we shall see about that. You can throw all the blame upon me ; and Lady Calanthe will save me from a scolding. Now, let me have a nice cup of tea — vefy strong. Oh, that AviU not do at all! WTiat ? two spoonfuls of tea for half-a-dozen people I Here, let me put it in. One spoonful for each individual, and one for the pot — that' makes seven. Now, my dear creature," she con- tinued, speaking to the housemaid, '• don't think of cutting bread-and-butter like that : it would strain one's jaws to open them to such a wiJth. Here, let me cut it thin, with plenty of but- ter." As she thus went rattling on in her gocd- humoured way, — and without the slightest affec- tation, or what may be termed giving herself "airs," — she suited her actions to her words. She lighted another candle; she almost emptied the tea-caddy into the pot, thus consuming at least three days' supply for one meal : and she then began cutting the bread-and-butter according to her own liking. I looked on with unconcealed dehght at these daring innovations : my fellow- servants with a sort of blank consternation. It soon became evident that Miss Charlotte under- stood what sort of jiersons the Tivertons were, and how the domestics had become modelled, body and soul, to the influences of a rigid discipline and a stern parsimony. Nor less was it apparent that she resolved, to the utmost of her power, to put things upon a better footing. '•' Now, don't look so sadly fi-ightened," she went on to say, sweeping her laughing and roguish blue eyes around: "I tell you to thi-ow all the blame upon me. Depend upon it, Lady Georgiana JOSEPH WILMOT ; OK, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. 95 ■mil not have the face to proclaim her own mean- ness by qtiarrelling with me, because I choose to make myself comfortable. Ah ! I comprehend — I have nearly iised all the tea? Well, wo can easily buy another pound : I will treat you to it to-morrow— as I mean to go to Exeter an^l see all that is worth seeing. Eeally this room has a cold and miserable appeai-ance : there is not an ounce of fuel in the grate. Come, my boy," she added, turning to mc, " you look a little different from the rest, and seem as if you had a spii-it in you. Just empty that scuttle upon tlie fire. But stay ! •^throw a good large faggot on first." Unhesitatingly did I fulfil these instinictions ; and in a few minutes there was such a roaring blaze in the grate as Myrtle Lodge seldom beheld ; so that the very v/alls themselves must have felt comfortable at having the damp dispelled by the genial and indeed unusual warmth now thro^Ti forth. My fellow- servants appeared to have made up their minds, with a sort of reckless desperation, to let Charlotte have her own way, and to profit by the bold innovations which she Avas evidently detei-mined to introduce. "When once tliey had abandoned themselves to this mood, they all be- came considerably more clicerfid than they had doubtless ever yet been since they first crossed the threshold of Myrtle Lodge. I began to wonder whether, when the prayer-bell rang, Miss Charlotte wovdd join in the procession : but my speculations on this point were presently put an end to by the following circumstance. I had occasion to go Tip to the drarwing-room for something ; and on leaving it again, was fol- lowed out by Miss Dakin. Ever since the little incident of the cravat-tying, she had been wont to seize every opportunity of darting malignant looks ft me, and of pointing out to Lady Georgiana any little oversight on my part for the purpose of getting mo scolded. I therefore entertained no very friendly feeling towards her,— though I may say without vanity that I was naturally too good- hearted to bear her any direct and positive ran- coiu\ I also despised her too much for the enter- tainment of so serious a feeling. When, however, she thus followed me out upon the landing, I hur- ried my pace towards the stairs, — whereupon she cried out sharply and petulantly, '• Come here, sir 1 What arc yoiu running away like that for ? You might have seen that I wished to speak to you." I turned — but said not a word. She looked CTcessivcly spitefid and malignant, as if she could have flown at me and scratched my face with her nails. " The next time, sir, that you see me folloATing you from a room," she went on to observe, " with the evident intention of addressing you, you had better take care and wait in respectful attentdon — or you will speedily get your impadeuce put 'down, T can tell you." Stni I said nothing : but I felt that any lips were em-Kiig -with cemtempt — whereat she actually trembled with rage, her owm lips ibeconmiing wliite -tia asbesj'tiild twitekiztg with a 'spasmodic nervous- ' ness. "It is Lady Georgiana's command," she said, the words literallj' hissing up ft-om her throat with the concentrated fury of her ire, — " that the servants do not come up to prayers while Lady Calanthe is at the Lodge : but the service is to bo read by John Robert in the domestics' room at the usual hour. Now, sir, will you go and give these orders ? or shall I inform your master and her ladyship that you refuse ?" — and she eyed me with a wicked malignity, as if nothing would have pleased her better than that I should have re- turned some insolent answer and laid myself open to bo evilly reported in the manner she had threatened. " I was merely awaiting, Miss," was my calm and collected response, " the orders which her ladyship has sent through you; and I do not think that you have any reason to infer that I should for a moment refuse to deliver them." " You are insolent enough for anything !" was her quick and spiteful retort : then, as if all the energy of her passions were suddenly concentrated in the feeling she was about to express, she said in low but bitterly, emphatic accents, " I hate you [" I could not help giving a sort of scornful laugh at this avowal of aversion which was thrown out : for my spirit was to a certain degree excited — and I did not choose this wretched toady to domineer over me. As I was turning away — and indeed had already reached the stairs — she flew after me : she caught me by the arm — her fingers clasped my flesh as if with an ii-on vice ; and still in that same low but deeply accentuated tone, she said, " Yes, I hate you^I abhor you ! I could have liked you — I could have loved you madly — I would have done anything for you But but I hate you — and I will wreak all the vengeance of a woman's bitterness upon you !" I was certainly not frightened — but I was really astonished at this address. She immediately turned away ; and, no doubt composing her looks with all the power of a consummate dissimulation, re-entered the drawing-room. I had a very great mind to mention the circumstance to my fellow- servants when I descended to rejoin them; but I thought it better not. I did not like to render myself the hero of a scene ; and I felt by no means flattered on accoiint of having at any time won the love of such a creatm'e as Miss Dakin. As for her hatred, I certainly did not fear it : for I did my duty to the utmost of my power towards my mas- ter and mistress, and resolved to be even still more circumspect than hitherto in my conduct, so as to avoid furnishing the toady with an opportu- nity of venting her spite upon me. Besides, I reflected that if, after all, I should lose my present situation, I had the written testimonial of Lord Eavcnshill's steward as a means of procuring an- other. For all these considerations I kept silent in respect to Miss DaMn, — confining myself to the mere delivery of the message with which I was charged. " vbid pray," inquu'ed Charlotte, who had lis- tened to it with an arch smile, " how long do these prayers occupy ?" " About twenty minutes," responded John Eobert. " Then, if yooi pkase," qiuickly exclaimed Cbs^ lotte, in a positive manner, " we will dispciise with them. Lam mot going to sit hero, Mr. John, and listen to you droning away, for twenty iT\i. aI minutes, in that voice of your's which sounds as if it came up from a grave. I always say my prayers in my own chamber ; and can then pray as my heart dictates." 96 JOSEPH WILMOT ; OB, THE MEMOIES OF A MiN-SEEVANT. John Robert commenced some remonstrance : but Charlotte cut him short by a good-humoured jest. He was compelled to yield : and so we all sat talking round the blazing fire until bed- time. On the following morning Charlotte informed us that she had obtained Lady Calanthe's permission to go to Exeter for a few hours ; and moreover, that as she was a total stranger there, and did not like to proceed alone, she had Lady Georgiana's authority (obtained through her sister) to be ac- companied by any one of the domestics who could be best spared. " Of course you can't go, cook — or else there would be no dinner. As for you," addressing her- self to Lady Georgiana's maid, "you are sure to be wanted when your mistress puts on that pre- cious old faded silk gown of her's presently. Tou," she continued, turning to the housemaid, '•' have got all the rooms to do, and only one pair of hands to do them with : so I am sure you have a full week's work aU to be compressed into one short day. As for you, John E-obert, the rueful- ness of your coxmtenance is enough to give one the blue-devils. So I shall make you, Joseph," she concluded, in her gay manner, '" the companion of my trip. I am sure I could not have a nicer little beau; and I shall treat you to a good lunch at the pastry-cook's. Come — be quick — put on yoiu" best livery — and let us be off." I was by no means sorry to avail myself of this opportunity for a holiday, and gladly assented to the proposal. I lost no time in apparelling myself in my best clothes ; and when I again descended to the servants' room, I found Charlotte already waiting for me. She was handsomely but neatly di-essed, — with no flaunting display, and every- thing in good taste. " I sha'n't forget to bring the promised poiind of tea," she said, laughing, to the other servants as we took our departure. "And now. Master Joseph," she continued, as we emerged from the premises, " how are we to get to Exeter ? — for I understand it is three miles, and I do not profess to be a good walker. The day is however fine and frosty ; and perhaps I might make the attempt." " You will have to do so," was my answer : " for I know not of any conveyance passing along the road at this hoxur. There is one — the carrier's van — which leaves Exeter at about four o'clock : and by that we can return." " "Well, this is a consolation, at all events," she cried, good-h\miouredly : " and therefore I will resign myself to the walk into the city. By the bye, what do you think of my yoxmg mistress ? is she not a beautiful creature ? But I will tell you more — she is aa good and amiable as she is beau- tiful." " She appears so," I observed. " Oh, yes 1" added Charlotte enthusiastically, " you can read it upon her countenance. Heavens ! what a difference between her and her sister —that prim, starch, insufferably proud Lady Georgiana ! I never saw her before, you know : I was not in Lord MandeviUe's service when Lady Georgiana married Mr. Tiverton. That, I believe, was seven or eight years ago, when Lady Calanthe was a mere child." " And how long have you been in attendance upon your young mistress ?" "About three years. You know Lord Man. deville married a second wife, by whom he has three daughters, of whom Lady Calanthe is the eldest. He has half-a-dozen other daughters and two sons by his first wife : so you perceive there is a perfect swarm of them; and as his Lordship, between you and me, is not very well off, the girla are all portionless." " And are they all beautiful like Lady Calanthe ?" I inquired. " The three by the second marriage," responded Charlotte : " but the six by the first are absolute frights — though Lady Georgiana is decidedly the ugliest of the bunch. By the bye, that Miss Dakin is a very fitting companion But why did you start so, Joseph ?" " Did I start ? I am sure I was not aware of it —I did not mean it " " Well, I suppose it was nothing, then. Now, I am not ■^f ry quick in taking aversions ; but I certaini;y like that Miss Dakin as little as can be. Would you believe it ? — as I was descending the stairs just now, after dressing myself to come out with you, I met Miss Dakin; and you should have seen how superciliously she tossed her head as she looked at me, and appeared inclined to give herself such airs, as if she felt herself a lady and that I was only a lady's-maid. Or I suppose it was because, with those shabby old things of her's, she was quite jealous to see a simple lady's-maid having good clothes on her back. I was passing her, when she said, ' By the bye, young woman, Lady Georgiana told you that you might take one of otir servants with you:' — and she laid such stress on the our, just for all the world as if she were the mistress, or it was all a partnership con- cern : and she went on to demand, ' Pray who is to accompany you P' — ' Joseph WUmot, Miss,' I answered ; and you should have then seen again how she tossed her head. I did not wait to let her give herself any more of her airs ; but hurried down, thinking to find you in readiness. And you were not : but you kept me waiting fuU five minutes — which was very shameful of you." Here Charlotte laughed in her good-humoured way, revealing a set of the finest teeth, which very advantageously counterbalanced a somewhat large mouth. "What a dreadful place all you people appear to have of it !" she quickly resumed : for she was a terrible chatterbox. "I certainly expected to find something more cheerful. Lord Mandeville'a seat, though out in the country, as one may call it — being at no great distance from Enfield " " Enfield !" I ejaculated. "Yes, to be sure — a few miles from London. Every' one who knows London, knows Enfield. Ah ! by the bye, what a shocking occurrence took place in that neighbourhood about eighteen months ago the murder, under most mysterious cir- ciunstances, of a gentleman named Delmar." "I heard of it," was the observation I now made, but in a tremulous voice. " Oh ! every one who reads newspapers," con- tinued Charlotte, "must have heard of it. It created an immense sensation." " And has there never been the slightest clue to the discovery of the assassins ?" I inquired : and I was half inclined to tell Charlotte how painfully intimate I was with all the circumstances of tlia JOSEPH WiLMOT ; OB, THE MEMOIES OF A MAN-SEI£VANT. 97 '-i'^ tragedy, save and except ia regard to the very point on which I had just put the question. But on second thoughts, I kept my own counsel : for I saw that my companion was somewhat giddy and imguarded in her speech, though vi-ithout meaning any harm ; and I feared lest on her return to Lord Mandeville's seat, she might mention ui that neighboiu'hood of how she had fallen in with me, and the intelligence might by some means or another reach the ears of my mortal enemy — the man who called himself my uncle — Mr. Lanover. " No," she replied ; " not the slightest clue has ever been discovered to the murderer or mur- derers. It has remained wrapped in a seemingly impenetrable mystery : but the deed was of course perpetrated by burglars, as some things were stolen." " And who lives at the place now ?" I asked, with difficulty concealing the emotions which this 13 topio, whereupon t'.ie discourse had tuvnod, was but too well calculated to excite. "AtDdaiar ISLinor ? Oh! the Hon. Mr. a-ad Mrs. Mulgrave, to be sure. But I believe that Miss Delmar Edith, I thiuk her name is at present resides there also." '• To whom docs the Manor belong ? But I suppose equally between those Mulgraves and Miss Delmar ?" " I really cannot say," replied Charlotte. " But you seem to know something about the matter. Were you in London at the time ?" " Yes — 1 was in London at the time. By the bye," I immediately added, for the purpose of avoiding further questioning, " how long do you think you are going to romaLa here r" " At the Lodge ?" exclaimed Charlotte. " I must confess I hope not long ; but I fear for at least six weeks or a coui>le of months. It may seem a bad compliment to you that I should JOSEPH WIT.M'OT ; 01?, THE MEAfOTBg 01" A J^A^'•-S^JI^rAyT. tliiis regret liavhig- to be coopcil up in tlint ilrcavy- looking place for such a time — particularly iii this winter season : but you must camlidly admit, Jo.-epli, that your lellow-scrvauts are uot the most agreeable of companions." •• liow can they bo otherwise F' I asked. '" I dare say that whenthey first set foot at the Lodge, thc}- had their cheerful and gay moments as well as otlier people : but the strict discipline and the hard woi-k are quite sufEcient to crush the spirit out of anybody." "So I should think indeed!" ejaculated Char- lotte. ''You are thc only one \iho appears to have any spirit left. But you are young — I should suppose you are not seventeen yet ?'' " .Sixteen and a half," I observed. 'Well, getting on that way. However, at your ag-e people put up with things better than when they are older. Youth is not so easily de- ]n-essed. Uut if j'ou remain another year or two in that place, you will become as ruefully owlish in your looks as that woful persouaee Mi: John Bobert." While rlnls cosTevs'ing vb had ti.'.'oinplished iwo-thifd^ ol iht> di.HsiH-/' ro 3?^vt(^r : and (^hiu-lytte no»v began ej^8)ia!ing f)>i tlip appearaaee of i lif city tis we c^lv.w upar it. 3 oavp her io nn(Jer?taiid lii:!l 1 mysftlf ;«;».« wiiu.o^t':r pei-jeet siraugev lliere. - luy evperiettic* of llie pltio'; haviiio b.-pii 1lii>iied to A lew hour.-;. " Never mind," she said : " we shall be enabled to find our way about — and if not, we must inrjuire it." We entered the city; and our first visit was paid to the cathedral, where we spent iipwards of an hour. We then proceeded to a pastrycook's, where we took ^omc refreshments, — for which I insisted upon paying ; and on this point had the utmost dilficulty in overruling the generous scru- ples of my good-hiunourcd companion. On issuing thence, we repau-ed to a grocer's, where Chai-lotte purchased a vast quantity of tea and loaf-sugar — directing the parcel to be sent to the office whence, as I informed her, the carrier's van started, which was to convey us home. "And now, Joseph," she said, "I have a few little piu'chases to make at a linendraiier's ; and I shall not trouble you to come inside with me— but you must have the goodness to wait at the door, or lounge up and down the street ; as it will not do for us to miss each other. I know that young men have no great affection for shopping." We soon found an establishment the external appearance of which satisfied Charlotte, after a cursory survey of the goods displayed in the win- dow ; — and while she entered, I remained outside. I had not been many minutes there, when whom should I see approaching along thc street but Charles Linton ? He immediately recognised me ; and hastening forward, shook me warmly by the band. " iry dear young friend," he said, " I am so glad to meet you ! — so glad likewise to find you looking well ! I have often thought of you ; and woidd have wi'itten a few lines if I had known where to address a letter." I told him where I was living, and that I had been at Myrtle Lodge ever since the breaking \xp of Lord Eavenshill's establishment. " Well, and now you will be anxious," he said, " to receive such intelligence as I have to give you. I was really sjrry to leave Charlton Hall in that stealthy, abrupt manner, without bidding good-bye to yotirself or any of the other pcrvants : but I really eoidd not help it. Mr. Ivavenshill in- sisted that I shoulil keep his intention a jirofound secret. Besides, it was not until after you were all in bed, that he came quietly to my room and told me that I was to get up very early and go away with him. So, even if 1 had not been enjoined to silence, I shoidd have had no opj^ortunity for leave-taking. Ho you know — or can you guess who that young lady was ? But doubtless you have heard that Mr. Eavenshill is married ?" " I guessed as much — but I had obtained no knowledge on thc subject. Buried as I have been in thc seclusion of IMyrtlo Lodge -" " Ah ! then I have some news for you," inter- rupted Charles. " That young lady who gave you the note, was jMiss Jcnkinson." '■■ Miss Jenkinson 'i" I exclaimed. "Well, many and many a time have I thought to myself that it might b.«ve been she : but still, when I recoUeoted all you had iold axe of how the msrvingf was br.fkeq ofl' iu 'l.uiiidoii. oo iM.ioiiiit ol rhf iivf\ n^d oihw iiiatleis - " ''■■ 3>s but tbhi w,jis done by ihe oKl jj-..pl(» : and so !iov»" yon haveA jpi'ooi of what ti-ui' !o\f i-uu aivoijijitish. ^!iss Jeuliinson was devoledly ;it- iaehfrt to Six. Wtdxty : .ivul Iho.igh a SHusiblt-, intelligent, and prudent yoimg lady, yet she was disposed to look over his faults iu respect to the attempt at carrying off Miss Cuthbort and the jilting of Miss Boustead — if indeed the latter could be regarded as a fault at all. Besides, the circumstance of Mr. Eavenshill being wounded in a duel, was sujSieient to make a still deef)er impres- sion on the heart of a young lady who loved him ; and it ajipcars that when he went oft' suddenly to the Contuient, he wrote her a letter in a manly but affectionate strain,— frankly confessing that he had at first courted her for the wealth which her father might be enabled to give her, but that ho had soon learnt to love her for herself alone. He addetl that it was with his heart full of this feeling he now ventured to address her for the last time, — merely for thc purpose of bidding her an eternal farewell, and, as an honourable man, of rettiruing two or three letters which he had received from her. This epistle made a still deeper impression upon the young lady ; and when, after the lapse of some few weeks, she read in Iho newspapers of the total ruin of the Savcnsh.iU iVjnily, and how sales were about to take place of all the property, she resolved iipon a particidar coui-se of action. I must tell you, Joseph, that under the will of an aunt, she was entitled (:o the sum of twenty thou- sand j)oimds, from which her parents could not debar her. Quitting her liome in the most stealthy maimer, she travelled into Devonshire. She wrote a note, addressed to Mr. Eavenshill, begging him to think not lightly of her for the course which she was adopting, — but confessing that she still reci- procated the attachment wltich he himself iu his farewell letter had vowed to be eternal. She pleaded the peculiarity of the circumstances as an excuse for whatsoever unmaidenly or unseemly there might be in her conduct : she explained her precise position in a pecuniary sense, — adding that she knew her available fortune was only small, but josErn wiLiroT; or, titr memoirs of a max-sertaxt. 09 that such ag it was sho placed it at his disposal ; and she hinted at the hope that her parents might ultimatclv bo led to aecord their forgiveness. It was this note, Joseph, which you bore for her to the hands of Mr. Eavenshill. I should add that it gave the adcU'css of an hotel at Exeter, wliore she awaited his response. You now can imagine the rest. He fled at an early hour in the morning, — not merely to avoid the hated marriage to which, in sheer desperation, he had a second time been in- duced, by iu"geut letters received on the Continent from his father, to give his assent, — but likcv.-ise to accom2>any a fairer and more amiable bride to the altar. He loft a note for his lordship to this effect ; and on the very same day that we proceeded to Exeter, Mr. Eavenshill and Miss Jenkinson were married by special license." " And her parents ?" I asked : " have they par- doned her r" " Yes— at length," responded Charles. " Tlic honeymoon was passed in Cornwall ; and there have we been rcsidmg until within the last few days. We are now on our way to London, that ISfr. and !Mrs. Jeukiusou may receive their daughter with open arms, and likemse welcome her husband. We have halted here for a few hours, as JNtrs. Eavens- hill is somewhat fatigued with travelling. I came out for a stroll — and am rejoiced to have fallen in with you." '■■ And his lordship — her ladyship also ?" I said, inquiringly. " They are upon the Continent," answered Charles. '• They went straight off thither, it ap • pears, on leaving Charlton Hall. One letter — and one letter onh-— has Mr. Eavenshill received from them ; and that, I should observe, was penned by his mother. Her ladyship said that he had broken his father's heart ; and as she felt persuaded there was no chance of Mr. and ilrs. Jenkinson forgiving their daughter, it was the most shocking match he could possibly have made. Her ladyship added that even if it should prove othei'wise and the old people should relent, it was too late to rescue the property from the hands of others, or save tlie honour of the Eavenshill family. Tims, you may see that altogether her ladyship wrote in a very desponding way — while his lordship wrote not at all." "But was there not," I asked, "some little bitterness as well as despondency in that letter ? It would seem so, from all that you have told me." " Yes — you arc right, Joseph : for her ladyship, you know, is not oulowed with the very best of tempers. Perhaps you may he surprised that I aui enabled to give you so many minute details with regard to all these particid;u's : but you will understand how it is, ^^•hen I inform you that Mr. "\ralter — —I suppose we shall always call hira Mr. Walter now treats me quite as a con- fidential person." '• I am rejoiced to receive such good tidings of Mr. AValter's circumstances ; and I congratulate you, Charles, upon having continued in a place which at last has proved so good a one." At this moment Charlotte issued from the linen- draper's shop ; and I introduced Charles Linton. The latt«r had only half-an-hour to spare before he was compelled to return to the hotel where his master and mistress had stopped: but this lialf-hoiu' ho siicnt in walking with us, — giving Charlotte his arm and treating her with much attention. At length ho took leave of v.s ; and when he was gone, Charlotte declared to nic that he was the nicest young man she had ever mrt in her life. "W'o proceeded to the tavern v> hence the carrier's van started; and taking our places in the vehicle, got back to 3Iyrtlc Lodge at about; live o'clock. CHAPTER XXII. MYSTEKY A>D TKOUBLE. Ojt the following day there was to be a dinner- party at the Lodge ; and t!ie bell rang to call the servants halt"-an-hour eai-lier than usual. I was down first of all tliat morning : but the rca'ler may however rest assured that Miss Charlotte 3Iurray, Lady Calanthe's maid, did not so speedily obey that summons ; for she considei-cd herself to be perfectly independent of the rules and re^'ulations of the house. She did not descend till breakfast- time : and when she thus made her appearance, I was surprised to notice the marked coldness with which she treated me. As if she studiously endea- voured to make this bearing on her part all the more pointed, she bade the other servants ■' Good morning" in the kindest and blithest uinnner ; — while towards me she was glacial, reserved, and distant. My fellow-domestics did not perceive it — or if (hey did. suffered it to pass withotit a com- ment; while I conceived that it must be mere fancy on ray side. In order to arrive at a certainty on the subject, I addressed Charlotte in a marked manner: but my suspicion was confirmed— she only responded with a monosyllable — and by her tone and look gave inc to understand that she would rather not discourse with me any longer. 'My pride v,as wounded: for as I knew that I had done nothing to provoke this ill-feeling, I was im- patient at the thought of being rendered the victim of Charlotte ^ilurray's caprices. On the previous day, at Exeter, we were the best of friends ; she had shakeii hands with mc kindly, jocularly calling me "her elegant little hem," wlien we had separated for the night: and now she had come down stairs the very next morning in this humour of frigid reserve towards mc. I rose from the breakfast-table and went about my work. Numerous guests were expected to dinner ; and the parsimonious habits of Mr. Tiver- ton and Lady Georgiana appeared to have been to a certain degree laid aside for the nonce. Never- tlicless, the store-room was so badly provided with the commonest necessaries for such a household, that the cook found she required all kinds of things for her culinary preparations —even to .spices, isin- glass, vermicelli, and so firth. It was indispen- sable that some one should go to Exeter for them; and as there were so few domestics to do so much work, Charlotte volunteered the service. As she ascended the kitchen stairs, I was coming down ; and we thus met face to face. " I did not think that you were such a wicked, deceitful, depraved youth," she immediately said, in a low whisper, but with a severe look. I was perfectly astounded — and was so com- 100 JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIES OP A MAX-SEEVANT. pletely taken by surprise, that I could not give utterance to a single syllable : so that it is very probable my appearance and manner seemed to imply a consciousness of guilt. " Yes — you do well not to deny it," she went on to say. "I do not wish to make mischief— and therefore I shall say nothing upon the subject. You know very well to what I allude ; and I must beg that so long as I may be imfortimate enough to remain in this horrid place, you will not address yourself to me again. Do not think that because I laugh and joke and am good-tempered, there is any levity or want of principle about j»e. If you do, you are very much mistaken." With these words, she brushed past me and hurried up-stairs, I remained rooted to the spot for nearly a minute : I could not possibly under- stand what it aU meant. The accusations — or rather the epithets thrown out against me — "wicked, deceitful, depraved" — were strong in- deed; and I knew fuU well that I merited them not. Slander had evidently been at work. But how ? or where ? What could Charlotte have pos- sibly heard between the hour of retiring to rest and that of coming down in the morning ? Ah ! I began to suspect that Miss Dakin must have been saying things to my prejudice in the presence of Lady Calanthe, who had repeated them to her maid. Conceiving this to be the only possible means of accoimting for Charlotte's conduct, I resolved to seek an immediate explanation with her ; and for this purpose I loitered about on the stairs till she should descend again. In a few minutes she came tripping down, dressed to go out ; and she looked both astonished and angry when thus waylaid by me. " Charlotte," I said, " you have accused me wrongfully. This must be explained." " Explained indeed !" she repeated, drawing herself up disdainfully. " Are you so consummate a hypocrite " " Hypocrite ? — no, Charlotte !" I interrupted her, the blood crimsoning my countenance. " But you are !" she retorted; "and your pre- sent conduct most lamentably confirms it. But I am wrong thus to converse farther with you. Understand me well, Joseph — there can be no ex- planations after what I myself saw with my own eyes. But as I do not wish to ruin a youth like you, I renew my promise not to mention it. You alone therefore shall Imow that I did see it. And now not another word !" She hurried past me ; and again was I so con- founded as to continue rivetted to the spot. What on earth could she mean ? what was it that she had seen ? I was cruelly chagrined and bewildered. To me it was evident enough that she v,-as labour- ing under some extraordinary error, — though what- ever it were, she was as firmly convinced that I had done something which merited the strong epithets she had thrown out against me. It was likewise clear that no scandal had been at work ; and I had wrongfully suspected Miss Dakin. The thing, whatsoever it were, that was uppermost in the mind of Charlotte Murray, was not enter- tained upon hearsay, but had been beholden with her own eyes. What could it mean? I knew not ; and iii a state of bewilderment I descended to the pantry, to assist John Robert in cleaning the plate. The incident which I have been describing, took place at about ten o'clock in the forenoon. Charlotte had set off for Exeter : she had to walk thither; but it had been arranged that she was to come back in the cart belonging to the grocer who supplied the Lodge, and who would have to bring over the purchases she was to make. I thus calculated that at least a couple of hours must elapse before Charlotte would return ; and then I resolved to insist upon the fullest explanations. I felt annoyed : but, still armed mth conscious inno- cence, I was perfectly well assured that the mystery would be cleared up to my complete satis- faction. On entering the pantry, I found John Robert labouring imder a degree of excitement which was so unusual on his part, that I was at once convinced something extraordinary must have oc- curred. His countenance, which was wont to be so solemnly rueful, was animated with an expression of bewilderment and uneasiness ; and he was hunting about in every nook and corner of the pantry with the air of a man who had lost some- thing. " What is it, John?" I asked. " What is it ?" he said, with a grunt ; " why, half-a-dozen of the large spoons and half-a-dozen dessert spoons missing, besides a couple of silver sauce-ladles. I can't make it out." " Missing ?" I ejaculated. " Perhaps master forgot to give them out?" — for I should observe that the plate-basket was duly consigned by John Robert every night to Mr. Tiverton, who took it up into his own room and brought it down again in the morning. " Yes — he gave them all out," replied the foot- man. "Last night, when I took up the plate- basket, master told me to keep charge of it, as I should want to be cleaning the things early in the morning ; and he at the same time gave me the rest of the forks and spoons that would be wanted for to-day. He counted it all out before me last night; and here's the list," added John Robert, pointing to a piece of paper that lay upon the dresser in the pantry. "And where was the plate all night?" I in- quired. " Why, that's the worst of it," answered the footman. " Like a fool as I was, I left it all down here. I thought it quite safe : and here's a pre- cious mess I shall get myself into !" " But could any thieves have introduced them- selves in the night ?" was my next question. " Thieves ? — no ! Every door was fastened when I come down " " To be sure !" I ejaculated, recollecting that it was so : " for I was first down this morning, two or three minutes before you." "Well, and you found all safe, didn't you? Besides, if thieves had broke in, they wouldn't have been so nice as to take a part — they would have walked off with the whole." The cook and housemaid, hearing somewhat of all that was going on, now came into the pantry ; — and to them the circumstance of the missing plate was duly mentioned. Scarcely had they ex- pressed their astonishment and alarm, when down stairs rushed Lady Georgiana's maid, her counte- nance expressing her fright and dismay. It must have been a long time since she had sped at such JOSEPH -n-ILMOT ; OB, THE MEMOIBS OF A MAN-SEEVANT. 101 a pace, or since her usually rigid features had exhibited so much emotion. "Here's a pretty to-do!" she cried. "Her ladyship's most valuable ring — the diamond, you know, set round with pearls " "Well, what about it ?" we all asked, anticipat- ing the annoimcement of some fresh calamity. " What about it ?" she repeated. " Whj-, her ladyship left it on the drawing-room table last night she had been trying on some new gloves before going up to bed, and so took off the ring " " And what has happened ? what has happened ?" we asked, eagerly and anxiously. " It is gone," rejoined the maid. " Gone ! And the plate too !" we ejaculated. At this moment the parlour-bell rang vio- lently ; and I hastened up to answer it. I found Mr. Tiverton, Lady Georgiana, and Miss Dakin, oU three in a most excited state ; while Lady Calanthe Dundas was saying, "Pray, my dear sister, tranquillize yourself. The ring cannot be lost — rest assured that it can only be mislaid." T'aese were the words to which that amiable young lady was giving utterance at the moment I entered the room. : but Lady Georgiana was not to be appeased by such representations. " Joseph Wilmot," ^e exclaimed, " have you learnt that a ring has been lost ?" " Yes, my lady," I responded." And — and " I was going on to say, with some degree of hesita- tion; but as it instantaneously struck mo that I might be seriously compromising poor John Robert, I stopped short. " What were you going to say, Joseph Wilmot ?" cried her ladyship. " Don't bewilder the boy," interposed Mr. Tiverton. " You see how confused he looks." " Bewilder the boy !" ejaculated Lady Georgiana. "Did you ever hear such a thing, Miss Dakin ?" " Never, in all my life," answered the toady, who for a wonder did not on the present occasion dart at me her wonted malignant glances. "Now, Joseph — speak out," said Mr. Tiverton. " What were you going on to observe when you checked yourself? If you can throw any light upon this unpleasant matter, don't hesitate " " Hesitate r" echoed Lady Georgiana. " Wlio ever heard of a servant daring to hesitate ? Did you. Miss Dakin ?" "Never," was the toady's reply. " Now, my dear sister," interrupted Lady Calanthe, with the most amiable spirit imaginable, " do let this youth be questioned quietly and deli- berately. It is evident that he knows or suspects something; and you had better let him tell his tale in his own manner. He seems a nice lad — a very nice lad," Lady Calanthe added, in an aside whis- per to her sister ; but my ear caught the words, though they were evidently not intended to be thus overheard by me. " I know nothing about the diamond ring," I proceeded to remark, in as collected a manner as possible : " but I was about to inform your lady- ship " " Address yourself to me, Joseph," said Mr. Tiverton, thus with a stern air asserting his rights. " I am the master of the house ; and in serious matters of this description, I choose to act as the chief invcsljffator." " The master of the house ! " said Lady Georgiana, disdainfully repeating her husband's words. " Did you ever hear of such a thing. Miss Dakin ?" " Never only excepting when Mr. Tiverton chooses to say so :" and thus by a sort of compro- mise in the method of her phraseology, the artful toady avoided giving offence to either. '• Go on, Joseph," said Mr. Tiverton, in a per- emptory tone. " What were you about to inform me ?" " That I am sorry to say, sir, some of the plate is Ukewise missing " " The plate missing !" exclaimed Mr. Tiverton. " Then there is positively a thief in the house !" — and rushing to the bell, he rang it violently. " Plate missing !" echoed Lady Georgiana : and Miss Dakin, thinking it her duty to take up the same strain, though in a lower key, shrieked in a half-stifled hysterical voice, " Plate missing !" Mr. Tiverton went on tearing at the bell-pull until John Robert made his appearance. '■'Have up all the others !" exclaimed Mr. Tiver- ton : " let the whole of the servants come hither at once ! " John Robert, overwhelmed by this bursting forth of the storm which he had foreseen, and the anticipation of which had filled him with such dire alarm, was unable to hurry away to bear his mas- ter's mandate : I accordingly sped down stairs, and quickly summoned the lady's-maid, the housemaid, and the cook, up into the parlour. A few hiu-ried words were alone necessary to make them compre- hend what the excitement was about ; and in less than a minute we were all grouped together in the presence of our master and mistress. Lady Calanthe Dundas, and Miss Dakin. The queries that were put to us were hurried and impetuous, and con- stantly interrupted by cross-firing and sparring between Mr. Tiverton and Lady Georgiana in their struggle with each other to assert the supremacy. Ultimately, however, it was elicited from John Robert that he had left the plate in the pantry the whole night — that I was the first down in the morning, and that I found all the doors and win- dows were fastened as usual — that it was not until after breakfast he had commenced cleaning the plate — and that he had been thus engaged for at least a couple of hours ere he discovered that six large spoons, six smaU. ones, and two sauce-ladles were deficient. Lady Georgiana talked of sending for consta- bles ; Miss Dakin considered it to be highly neces- sary ; Mr. Tiverton appeared for once to be in- clined to agree with his wife and the toady : but Lady Calanthe hastened to suggest the course which she considered proper and fitting to be pursued. " Mr. Tiverton," she proceeded to say, — " and you too, my dear sister — I beg that you will not act precipitately. The two occurrences of the ring and the plate are most mysterious : to send for constables would be tantamoiuit to casting sus- picion upon the domestics of your household ; and this, I am sure, you would be most unwilling to do without the best possible grounds. Let the inves- tigation be conducted with all becoming privacy ; and the servants, for their own sake, will no doubt volunteer to suffer their boxes to be examined. Not, be it understood," she added, glancing im- 103 JOSEPH WIL3I0T ; Olt, THE MEMOTIiS OF A MAjr-SERTANT. pressivcly towards us, " that I apprebond for a moment sudi a course will result in any discovery prejudicial to youi'sclvcs : but under circunistances, it is the best to be pursued : — and on tlic jiart of mv own attendant Cliarlottc, wlio lias gone to Exeter, I readily consent to such examination." " The very thing that I should like," said John Eobert : " 'cos why, I want to acquit myself. As for piu-lining the plate, I'd scorn such a Imction!" he added, his indignant feelings for a moment ren- dering him excited : and then ho composed himself with a grunt. We all oxi)resscd a similar readiness to have our boxes examined; and Mr. Tiverton, beg^ng the ladies to remain in the parlour, was about to issue forth, when Lady Goorgiana insisted on accom- 2)anying him, — asserting that she was the head of the domestic department of the household ; and in corroboration thereof, she appealed to Miss Dakin. The toady had not however time to give a reply, ere ]Mr. Tiverton said in a pQremptory manner, '• This is an afl'air too serious to be trilled with : it is my command that you remain here !" Lady Georgiana ejaculated. " Did you ever ?" — to which jNIiss Dakin responded, " Is'o, I never ;"■ — and Lady C'alanthc addressed herself to the task of pacifying them both. Mr. Tiverton thus gained the victory in this last little domestic squabble; and issuing from the room, was follo\vetl by us servants. iNot a word was sjioken as we all ascended to the highest storey; and the cook's attic being first, was first to be examined. But as Mr. Tiver- ton was about to enter, it evidently struck him that there was Sf)mcthiiig indelicate in his prose- cuting this search in the females' chambers : so he bade the lady's-maid hasten do^^•n stairs and tell Miss Dakin to come ui> immediately'. The errand A^•as speedily accomplisl'.ed ; and the toady made her appearance. "While Mr. Tiverton and the ser- vants all remained in the passage, Miss Dakin searched the boxes and the drawers in the cook's room : she even examined the bedding and between the mattresses. The result was completely satis- factory. The lady's-maid's and the housemaid's chambers were next scrutinized in a similar man- ner, and with a similar result : then came John Ivobert's room, ■\\hieh m^.s searched by Mr. Tiverton — and equally widiout the discovery of either lost ring or missing plate. The chamber occupied by C'liarlotte Murray was then entered lij- JMiss Dakin : the box was found to be open, and the result of the search proved to be as satisfactory as the former one*. My chamber, whieli was at the end of the passage, was the last to be examined ; and it was again Mr. Tiverton's turn to institute the search. As a matter of course, I felt perfoi-tly easy as to what tlie issue woidd be, and I was wondering to myself how the lost objects could jiave so mysteriously disappeared, — when an ejacu- lation bursting from Mr. Tiverton's lips, made us all rush into the room from the passage, where we had remained grouped together. From be- tween the mattresses he produced the plate, wrapped up in paper, and tied round with a string ! I felt like one annihilated. A dizziness seized upon my brain : the blood turned cold at my very heart's core ; and I st^aggered back as if about to faint. I remember that such ejaculations as, " Joseph!" "Wicked boy!" "Who could have tliought it ?" fell confusedly upon my sars : but I could not distinguish from whose lips respecfivelv each successive reproacli and upbraiding fell. " For nearly a minute I was as one dying ; it seemed as if all sense of life were ebbing away. But sud- denly a horrible clearness seized iipon my mind : I was startled uii to a keen and vivid comprchen- siou of the dreadful circumstances in which I Avas placed : and the liush of outraged innocence glow- ing upon my face, which, as I afterwards learnt, had at lirst turned so ashy pale, I exclaimed, " No, sir ! I am incapable of such a thing ! It is some hideous conspiracy to elTect mj- ruin I" ^A'hilc thus speaking, I swept my eyes around upon all those jH'csent; and as my looks settled again on Mr. Tiverton, I saw that he was ^tern and decided— that my vehement repudiation was not believed — and that lie was determined to go to extremities. As for my fellow-domestics, their countenances manifested surprise and dismay ; while ^liss Dakin also looked profoundly aston- ished ; and even amidst the whirl of my tortured feelings, I covdd not help observing at the monu-nt that her features expressed no malignant satisfac- tion nor spiteful triumph at tho sudden ignominy into ^vhicll I was jiluuged. 'The ring! where is tlie ring, Joseph.^" de- manded !Mr. Tiverton. '" Come, confess ! — you will do yourself no good " '•'Sir," I interrupted him, with passionate vehe- mence, " I have nothing to confess. As there is a God above me, I am innocent ! I would cooner starve than commit such a deed! Circamslaiices may bo against mc to mo they are utterly iu- comprelicusible " " Enoiigh, sir !" ejaculated. Mr. Tiverton : " this is tho most wretched of sophistry." Thus speaking, he quicklj' turned to-wavds tho bed again, and resumed his search between the mattresses. Another ejaculation escaped his lips as he drew forth a tiny paper-packet; and opening it, displayed the lost ring. " Oh, Joseph !" said John Eobert, shaking his head most ruefully. " Into what a sad scrape might you have got us all !" — aud ho gave his wonted half-grunt, half-groan. " Down to tho jiarlour with him !" vociferated 'SLy. Tiverton : and as he seized me by one arm, John Ivobert clutched me by the other. "I am innocent ! 'God knows that I am inno- cent !" I exclaimed, now bursting into tears: for it was horrible to be thus deemed and treated as a felon, while haviiig within my own heart tho full cousciousnffss of freedom from guilt. CnAPTEPt XXIII. THE coAcn-rtoirsE. I WAS htirried down to the parlour ; and the mo- ment the door was thrown opien, Lady Goorgiana and her sister Calanthe both uttered ejaculations of astonishment to see me thus thrust forward in a manner which naturally smote them with the conviction that I was the culprit. I saw that Lady Calanthe was perfectly astounded— ^incredu- lous even of what she herself beheld : while it was cviilont that Lady C'corgiuiia hud little cxptutcd the deed to be brought home to me. '^h-. Tivei-tou j displayed iho ring,- and the phUe, aud in a few j hurried words explained how they were discovered ; beneath the mattress of my bed. "And now, John Kobert," he said, "go to j Exeter and fetch a constable." | '" Foi* heaven's salce, mind what you arc doing;, sir !" I exelainied, full of anguished horror at the thought of being dragged away to a felon's gaol. 1 '■'I am innoeent — I invoke heaven to attest my , averment of innocence ! Oh, sir, I am friendless I in the v. ide world — I am an orphan — I have no rplati(ms to whom I can appeal— circumstances | will overwlielm me — ^but sooner or later my iuno- I reuee must be niade apparent; and then what will j 1)0 your feelings as you look back upon the ruin of j a fellow-creature — a rulu wrought by your hands !' ] ''',\.ll this is useless, vile boy," responded Mr. Tiverton. " Circumstances are indeed against you. Was he not do-nn first in the morning ?" " Ife was, sir," answered John Eobert. "And yet, you know, that might be an accident : for, whpn T rpcollect, he is very often down fujL ' To he sure!' itiferjerlec! Lady GeOi'^buj* : iowtir.,-1) lil>. opportMuii V (<> ft"-:'\ lUi- pl..i»f attil now al K(,-ii lip hy-" fiiAiid }i '. ' • .'Be3id.>s."" fidded Mr. Tiveriiiii. i li'S eoiifosirtn of your mauDOr, ■lor'eph. wlit'ii you lii.-t euilii' iulO ibe purlour, and when wv hiul so laiich diSifully in making you speak out and your looi^^a up- stairs loo, a few minutes back, when I drew forth the parcel from your bed— — yea, there can be no doubt of it ! At all events I have a duty to per- form — a duty towards society — and it must be ful- fdled. John Eobert, be off to Exeter as quick as ever you can, and retiu-n with a constable." "But what on earth are we to do," exclaimed Lady Georgiana, " about this dinner ? No^John Eobert cannot be spared : he has got his own work aud all this vile boy's into the bai-gain. We niust secure him in some place — a coal-cellar, for in- stance — till to-morrow." " Eeally," interposed Lady Calanthe, who all this time had been surveying me with the most earnest attention — this fixed scrutiny being not immiugled with a certain amount of compassion- ating sympathy,—" really, if I were you, Mr. Tiverton, I would not be too pvecijiitate " " Precipitate !" he exclaimed. "Do you think, Calanthe, that there is any d.oubt ?" " I shoidd certainly be sorry to say," she an- swered, mildly yet firmly, " that I entertain the positive conviction of this youth's guilt ; but on the other hand, I am equally at a loss to reconcile e'xisting circumstances with an idea of his inno- cence." " Innocent ! — he can't be innocent ! It's im- possible !" exclaimed Mr. Tiverton. " Never mind the dinner-party : we must manage as best we can. John Eobert, once more " . I had thrown a look of fervid gratitude upon Lady Calanthe for her humane generosity in boldly proclaiming that doubt as to my guilt ; and I now exclaimed, " No, send me not to gaol ! May the Almighty strike me dead at your feet if I com- mitted this deed !" The domestics looked appalled at the tremen- dous solemnity of this invocation : Mr. Tiverton knitted his brows with ire : Lady Calanthe seemed fm-cibly struck by my words and maimer : while Lady Georgiana, making herself shiuldev visibly, ilasped her hands and said, " Oh, the horrid lilasphemy ! Did you ever, ]\lisd Dalcin? did y.ni ever r' But for a wonder the toady did not answer: she was standing at a distance froni the rest ; aud as my eyes settled upon her, methought that I read something like compassion in her looks, as I had already beheld it— but far more unmistak- abl\- — in those of Lady Calauihe. "Now, my dear ilr. Tiverton," said this excel- lent young lady, approaching her brother-in-law and gazing ^^•istfully up into liis coimtenance, " do, pray, be guided by me. The banquet of this even- ing is to be given as a welcome lor my presence here ; and I beseech that it may not be marred. You cannot possibly dispense with j'our footman for two or three hovirs : besides, if this lad be given into custody, you will have to go before pome magistrate and make your deposition. I do not understand these things very well : but such appears to me to be the necessity of the ca^e, if yoa at once proceed ro exjtvetne*. Keep him in .safe CMi-tody miiit to-mowo^v rnorjuing : sud rjien - ' • F\'ejl, be it .?p,.' ojld Mt: Tiv«i-,ton ciu-ily : and it was eritlfuijly 'y*''?! ?' b^*! ^'■•V'* ^J"*' ■'*® \i'.Oded f.() the iuiffirssli^n ,of his ,'-i>ier-ia-laiv : for lie (! .ubtivss i'At 'T. Ill tlie wildly joyous feelings which this announce- ment raised up within me ; " you know not what happiness you have infused into my soul!" — and catching her hand, I pressed it in grateful fervoui- to my lips. "Well, well, Joseph," she said, herself deeply moved ; " get your breakfast, there's a dear good lad — make yomself easy — but do not question me any more now. As yet I have said nothing to a soul — Lady Calanthe excepted— of what I know and what I can prove. It shaU fall like the blow of a sledge-hammer upon the guilty person ! Don't question me, I say," she added, perceiving that I was biu-ning with suspense and curiosity. " You can guess who the person is that will be exposed ; but you have yet to learn under what circiunstances I am enabled to effect the exposiu'e. Eestrain your curiosity: suffice it for you to know that yom* innocence shall be proved, and that within the hour which is passing ! Get your breakfast, then — dress yourself— and come down, I must leave you now." She was turning away ; but suddenly recollect- ing something, she accosted me again, observing with a kind and contrite expression of counte- nance, " Tell me, Joseph, that you forgive me for having treated you as I did yesterday morning ? "\Ylien you come to learn the circumstances " " Forgi/e you, Charlotte ?" I interrupted her. "Eest assured that I did not bear you any Ul- will : for I knew that you were labouring under some grievous error, which would be cleared up when an opportunity for calm and deliberate ex- planations should present itself." " You are a generous youth, Joseph," responded Charlotte, proflering me her hand : and she then hurried from the room. As the reader may suppose, I was now in a very different frame of mind from that which recent cii-- cumstances had so painfully excited : but when, having disposed of my breakfast, I rose to com- meiice my toilet, I felt every limb so stiff that I could scarcely drag myself along. Now, Char- lotte Murray seemed really to have anticipated all my wants and everything that could do me good ; and with aU her apparent giddiness, she thus proved herself in reality an excellent creatiire — thoughtful and considerate ■^hen the exercise of such qualities became needful. For John Eobert knocked at the door of my chamber ; and when I answered the summons, ho said, " Put on this dressing-gown, Joseph, and foUer me to the bath-room. Charlotte says as how a hot-bath would do you good ; and she has superintended it all herself. So come along." He brought me an old dressing-gown of his own, which I hastened to slip on ; and without another word, he conducted me to the bath-room, where I enjoyed the luxiury of an immersion in warm water. I issued thence with far more com- fortable sensations : the improvement effected in me was truly surprising. Hastening back to my own chamber, I dressed myself \vithout delay ; and was descending the stairs to the domestics' room, when I met Lady Calanthe Dundas on the first- floor landing. " Ah, Joseph !" she said, speaking most kindly and with a sweet smile ; " I was at the very instant thinking of you. From the first I had my mis- i givings as to the validity of the shocking accusa- tion charged against you ; and I do not hesitate to declare that it has afforded me the utmost satis- faction to have been made aware of your innocence. You have suffered much, poor youth fai", far more than you ought to have suffered indeed, you ought not to have suffered at all ; although really under the circumstances, I do not know that my sister and Mr. Tiverton could have adopted any other course. However, you are innocent ; and this innocence shall now be made known. Go and tell Charlotte to accompany you up to the drawing-room." With tears running down my cheeks, I began to pour forth the expressions of my gratitude for Lady Calanthe's kind conduct : but she retreated quickly into the drawing-room — and I hastened down stau's to deliver her message to Charlotte. " Come then, Joseph," said the young woman, who now treated me with a sort of sisterly kind- ness, as if she endeavoiu-ed to atone as much as possible for her glacial reserve and her vague but strong accusations of the preceding day : " let us go up-stairs together." She took my hand, just in that encouraging way which an elder sister would adopt towards a brother several years younger than herself; and we ascended to the di'a-wing-room. Mr. Tiverton and Lady Georgiana were seated in their usual starch, stiff manner : Miss Dakin occupied her wonted place near her patroness : Lady Calanthe Dundas was half-reclining upon the sofa. But the instant we made our appearance, Lady Calanthe sat com- pletely up ; and with an air of dignity beyond her years, but which admirably became the style of her beauty, she said, " I have already hinted, Mr. Tiverton, that I had desired Charlotte and Joseph to come into your presence together for a certain purpose." " Which purpose, Calanthe," said her brother- in-law gravely, " I presume vriU now be explained ?" " Do not think, Mr. Tiverton — nor you either, my dear sister," continued the beautiful young lady, " that I seek to arrogate to myself an autho- rity in this house which is unbecoming the position of a guest : but circumstances have induced me to assimie this prominent part on the present occasion. There are certain little explanations to be given ; and inasmuch as Joseph Wilmot was yesterday accused of a very serious act in the presence of all his fellow-servants, I beg and entreat that those same servants may now be summoned to witness the issue of the affau\" " But, my dear Calanthe," said Lady Georgiana, looking much bewildered— as did also her husband, " I am at a loss to conceive what new complexion can be possibly given to the transactions of the plate and the ring. Yes — I am indeed at a loss. Miss Dakin, are you not at a loss ?" "Perfectly at a loss," replied the toady: but yet methought there was something like the glitter of uneasiness in her eyes. " My dear sister," said Lady Calanthe, speaking very seriously, " I can assure you that there is another complexion to be put upon the whole transaction; and it will be a cruel injustice to- rrards this youth to delay the explanations a mo- ment longer than is necessary." "Then, in that case, let the servants be sum- moned," exclaimed Mi\ Tiverton. " Go you, Joseph — and order them hither." 112 JOSEPH WILMOTJ OB, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVAST. I hastened down stairs again ; and as I delivered the message, my fellow-servants could not help no- ticing the animation of my coimtenance, which doubtless seemed to them to be very diflferent from the look of a guilty person about to be ignomini- ously dismissed from his situation in the presence of the entire household. It was with an imusual alacrity that they therefore followed me up to the drawing-room, — John Robert giving two or three grunts as indications of the curiosity which he ex- perienced to behold the issue of the affair. In a few minutes we were all marshalled in the drawing- room ; and then Lady Calanthe, who had taken it upon herself to regulate the mode of procedure, said to me, " You will now, Joseph, recite to Mr. Tiverton and Lady Georgiana those explanations which you gave to Charlotte just now, relative to a certain person." I glanced towards Miss Dakin, and saw that she was excessively pale. She was always pale naturally : but her countenance was now of a dead white, perfectly ghastly : and it was but too evi- dent that she was in that dreadful frame of mind when it would have been a mercy if the earth had opened suddenly to swallow her up. " I am sorry," I began, at once xinderstanding to which explanations and to what person Lady Calanthe had alluded, — "I am sorry to have to perform the part of an accuser : but in self- vindication it is necessary. A certain individual present conceived an aversion towards me for reasons which had perhaps be better left to the imagination of those who now hear me ; and she threatened me with her bitterest hatred. That in- dividual is Miss Dakin." " Joseph, you vile, wicked boy !" cried the toady, springing up to her feet : but almost in- stantaneously sinking back into her chair, she gave a shriek, exclaiming, " I shall go off ! I shall go off!" — no doubt meaning into hysterics. " Miss Dakin," said Mr. Tiverton, speaking sternly, as if he now perfectly well saw that some serious turn was indeed to be given to previous transactions, — " I must request that you compose yourself. Joseph Wilmot has made a charge which, imless backed by collateral evidence, must of coiirse be rejected as a villanous attempt to throw a slur upon your character." " Yes — it is villanous !" shrieked forth Miss Dakin. " Lady Georgiana knows me too well to believe it." " I certainly am taken much by surprise," said my mistress. " Do you mean in plain terms, Joseph Wilmot, that Miss Dakin " " I mean, your ladyship," I said, perceiving the necessity of speaking out plainly and boldly, " that Miss Dakin made certain overtures to me when I had scarcely been a month in your service ; and that the other night she told me that she could have loved me madly, but that she now hated me as much, and that she would wreak her vengeance upon me." " 'Tis false ! 'tis false !" screamed forth the toady. " Let me get at him — I will tear his eyes out !" — and she was rushing towards me, when Charlotte, stepping forward, confronted the infuriate Miss Dakin, — exclaiming, "It is true — it is true — I am convinced of it !" " You ? — a menial !" said the toady, suddenly stopping short and tossing her head indignantly, while she quivered all the time with mingled rago, spit«, and terror. " Know your place— and keep it." "There is in this world," answered Charlotte, with admirable coolness, "no one so humble but that he or she may perform an act of justice, if accident should furnish the opportunity : and that is exactly my position now. At all events. Miss Dakin, you can but sit down and listen to me : you will have the right to reply." "Yes — let Charlotte Murray be heard," said Mr. Tiverton : and he signalled peremptorily for Miss Dakin to resume her chair — a command which she obeyed with the air of a person v/ho felt her condition to be almost desperate, yet nevertheless was bewildered as to what new evi- dence was to be brought forward against her. " The explanations I have to give," said Char- lotte, " are few. But first of all, I will ask Joseph Wilmot whether yesterday morning I did not take an opportxmity to tell him privately that he was a wicked, imprincipled, and depraved young man — and that I was sorry circumstances compelled me to remain beneath the same roof with him- self?" "Those accusations were made against me," I said ; " and they were quite bewildering. I com- prehended them not." " No : since circumstances have led me to reflect well what your demeanour was on the occasion," continued Charlotte, " I have felt assured that you must have been bewildered. You sought ex- planations — I would not give them ; and imme- diately afterwards I proceeded to Exeter. Your feUow-servants could not have failed to observe how cool and distant I was to you at the breakfast - table yesterday morning." The lady's-maid, the cook, the housemaid, and John Robert, all corroborated Charlotte's state- ment ; and while curiosity was keenly piqued, she continued as follows : — "The night before last, I did not sleep very well, in consequence of something which I ate at the pastrycook's at Exeter, when there with Joseph Wilmot. Soon after midnight I awoke from a feverish slumber, and could not close my eyes again. As I lay tossing uneasily about, methought I heard the creaking of the boards in the passage, as if with the footsteps of some one stealthily moving along. I listened, conceiving it to be mere imagination on my part : but in a few moments, distinctly hearing the rustling of a dress, as it swept the wall near my door, I felt somewhat alarmed. I got up, and very gently opening the door, peeped out. Though last night was dark as pitch, the one before (of which I am speaking) was clear with the starlight ; and as the beams shone through the window in the passage, I distinctly perceived a female form, which I had not the slightest difficulty in recognizing. This female passed stealthily and cautiously into Joseph Wihnot's room. I was so shocked that I knew not how to act : but closing my bedroom-door, lay down to rest again. I did not hear when that stealthy night-walker retraced her way ; and there- fore I naturally put the very worst construction on the proceeding, — though from all that has since transpired, it is more than probable — nay, it is certain, that she did not remain there many mo- ments—no longer than was sufficient for her to JOSEPH WILMOT ; OB, THE MEMOIES OF A MAX-SEEVANT. execute her nefarious purpose. Now, you can un- derstand, Mr. Tiverton, -wherefore I charged Joseph in the morning with being ^vicked and depraved : for that female whom I beheld seek his chamber, was Miss Dakin !" Almost from the commencement of Charlotte Murray's little narrative, the toady's agitation and confusion had been painfully increasing — till at length she burst forth into sobs ; and when the tale was ended, and her name was declared before all present, she threw herself wildly upon her knees, exclaiming, " Yes, it is true ! I confess it ! Spare me — spare me !" She then fell down flat upon her face in a state of unconsciousness. "Take her to her room!" said Mr. Tiverton sternly, as he rose from his seat and pointed to the wretched creature ; then, as the cook, the lady's- maid, and the housemaid, bore her away, he ac- costed me, saying, " Joseph, I am very sorry for IS what has occurred : but the weight of evidence ap- peared at the time to be so overwhelming against you '• "Take the wretch away!" cried lady Geor- giana, as the servants who bore Miss Dakin, ap- peared to be lingering somewhat at the door; " and directly she comes to herself, let her pack her things and begone !"— then turning up the whites of her eyes, she added in a murmuring tone, " Well, who would have thought it ? the de- ceitful hypocrite ! I never in aU my life !" "Yes — her conduct was indeed most hypocriti- cal," remarked Lady Calanthe : " for I could not help noticing that during the examination yester- day morning, she actually tutored herself to regard poor Joseph with a look of compassion." " The vUe hussey !" ejaculated Lady Georg^na: " and to read the family -prayers too ! But I al- ways thought there was sometliing wrong about that young woman : I was sui-e it would come to 114 JOSEPH TnXirOT ; OB, THE ITEMOIES OP A MAN-SEEVANT. this one of these days !'' — and yet scarcely a minute had elapsed since her ladyship had expressed her wonderment, and had given vent to murmured ejaculations showing how ineffably she was sur- prised. " "Well, Joseph, I am glad you've cleared your- self," whispered John Robert, sidling up towards me : then, doubtless under the influence of a sud- den emotion of satisfaction, he seized my hand and pressed it, at the same time giving vent to the in- variable half-grunt half-groan which served as an expression of every possible variety of feeling on his part. " But I was going to say just now," resumed Lady Georgiana, "that Joseph really ought to be recompensed for all this trouble he liaa gone through " "' My lady," I interrupted her, " the manifesta- tion of my innocence is sufficient " "Don't answer, Joseph — don't get into that habit of answering ! You must and shall be re- warded :" — and drawing forth her purse she took out eighteen-pence. '■ Come, come," ejaculated Mr. Tiverton, "leave this business to me. I am really sorry, Joseph, all this should have occurred, and I can't forget how well you behaved last night in the business of the biirglary. Here's five EhiUings for you." " I thank you, sir," was my response, while I felt that my cheeks became crimson ; " but I re- quire no money reward. I repeat that the mani- festation of my innocence is a sufficient source of joy to me :" — then approaching Calanthe Dundas, I said, " The gratitude of a life-time is your lady- ship's due for the kind, the generous interest you showed in my behalf. I am but a poor humble domestic : but I have my feelings as well as " I could say no more : my emotions well nigh overpowered me, — especially as at the instant I perceived that Lady Calanthe was gazing upon me with a look so soft, so gentle, so melting, that I could love her as a sister. No doubt the idea which thus flashed to my mind, was very presumptuous and arrogant on my part : but I could not help it, —and, as I had just observed to her ladyship, the humblest menial has his feelings as well as any other person. I hurried out of the room, accom- panied by Charlotte ; and we proceeded together into the garden : for I was anxious to learn from her lips all that occurred to herself, and how she had escaped from the power of Sir Malcolm Wavenham. CHAPTER XXV. chaeloiie'b kaebativb. Bepoee she entered upon her narrative, I ex- pressed my fervent gratitude for the interest which she likewise had displayed on my behalf : but, good- naturedly cutting me short, she assured me that she was only too glad to have been furnished with the opportunity to make as much atonement as possible for the injurious suspicions she had enter- tained concerning me. She then proceeded to re- cite her adventures : — '■ Tou know, Joseph," she began, " that I went to Exeter yesterday morning to make some pur- 1 chases for the cook. It was about ten o'clock when I set off; and I took very nearly an hour in reaching the city : for, as you are aware, I am not much of a walker. Well, I proceeded straight to the grocer's — bought all the things which the cook wanted — and told the boy that he must take me back to the Lodge in his cart. I wanted some- thing for myself at the linendraper's ; and as the grocer had the parcels to make up, I availed my- self of the interval to do my own little business — intimating that I woidd retiu-n in about a quarter of an hour. I was proceeding along the street, when I was accosted by a young and handsomely- dressed gentleman, about three or four-and-twenty years of age — with a dark complexion, and some- what large features. He asked me, with an inso- lent stare, whether I was not Miss Smith ? — but suspecting this mode of address to be merely an excuse for getting into conversation with me, I bridled up — flung upon him an indignant look — and endeavoured to pass without making any reply. But his manner all of a sudden altered, and became so respectful that I fancied I had misjudged him in the first instance. He begged me a thousand pardons if his somewhat abrupt addtess had offended me ; but vowed and pro- tested that he thought I was a certaia Miss Smith with whori he had some little acquaintance. I informed ln'm that he was decidedly wrong, for that was not my name. Then he persisted that he had seen me before, — although perhaps he might have made a mistake as to the name; and he spoke so earnestly, as well as -with so much appa- rent sincerity, that I really believed him. I there- fore answered him civilly, — repeating my assurance that he was labouring under an error; and not choosing to be seen walking with a gentleman, I hurried my pace. In a few moments he was by my side again ; and apologizing for his rudeness in once more approaching me, begged that he might be permitted to cultivate the acquaintance he had thus accidentally formed. He addressed me as ' my dear young lady :' I told hiTn that I was no lady — merely an attendant upon one ; that there was evidently a very great distinction be- tween his position in society and my own; and that I begged he would leave me at once. He looked very much chagrined, and said something more : but what I did not exactly catch — for I was getting rather alarmed; and qiiickening my pace, took refuge in the linendraper's shop. He did not attempt to follow me : but I was so much flurried, that I remained in that shop for nearly half-an-hour, — buving several things I did not want, and looking at others which I had no inten- tion to purchase. At length I recovered my com- posure; and recollecting that the grocer's cart woidd be waiting for me, hastened to leave the establishment. On issuing forth, I was again both annoyed and fi'ightened at seeing that young gen- tleman standing at a little distance on the opposite side of the way, and evidently watching for my re- appearance. I was half inclined to go back to the linendraper's — to state how I was molested — and solicit an escort as far as the grocer's : but I was ashamed to give so much trouble, and shi-ank from the idea of being thought one who was making a movmtain of a mole-hill. For it was scarcely pos- sible to conceive that any outrage could be at- tempted at such an hour of the day, in the midst JOSEPH ■WIIMOT ; OE, THE ItEMOIHS OF A MAX-SEEVANT. 115 of a city where people were walking about in every direction. So I hurried on ; and the next moment was rejoiced that I had not returned to the linendraper's : for the gentleman, instead of re- accosting me, was no more to be seen. He had disappeared, I knew not how." Charlotte Murray paused for a few instants: and then resumed her narrative in the following manner : — "A httle distance ahead, in the street along which I was passing, stood a carriage. The coach- man was on the box : a livery-servant held the door open, as if expecting some one to issue from the shop at which the equipage was drawn up. At the very moment that I was about to pass that carriage, a couple of Hi-looking men seized upon me yes, actually and literally seized upon me then and there, in the open street and in broad daylight; and thrust me into the carriage. It was all the work of a moment : but I shrieked out for assistance. Three or four persons who were passing, stopped short in evident amazement at the outrage : but just as the equipage dashed away, I heard one of the men say to the bystanders, ' It's all right ! she is mad, poor creature, and going to an asylum.' — I had been thrust into the carriage in the manner described ; and was instanta- neously clasped round the waist by a person already seated within. A glance showed me that this was the gentleman who had abeady so molested me in the street. Burning with indignation, I com- manded him to let me go forth : but he only laughed at my anger, — assuring me that I was completely in his power, and that it was utterly useless for me to cry out, as it would only be thought it was a mad-woman being taken to a lunatic asylum. Kevertheless I endeavoured to put down the window : he seized my arms to pre- vent me — I struggled violently — dashed one of my hands through the glass — and cried for assistance. But the carriage went like the ^^-ind : the out- skirts of the city were quickly reached — and we proceeded along a road which I recognised to be that leading towards the Lodge. Exhausted by my struggles and my screams, I sank back half- faintirg in the carriage : but quickly recovering my presence of mind, I changed to the opposite seat, and began upbraiding my persecutor for his vile, imgentlemanly, and unlawful conduct. He proceeded to assure me, with the coolest insolence in the world, that my reproaches were utterly thrown away upon him — that he was a man of fortime, accustomed to pursue his pleasures and his inclinations regardless alike of expense or of danger — that he had taken a sudden fancy for me — and as I had told him that I was not a lady, he would make a lady of me. Then he adopted a coaxing tone, and the language of cajolery as well as of entreaty, — beseeching me not to prove cruel towards one who would lavish riches upon me. But I scorned his advances, vowing that I would sooner die than yield to his dishonourable propo- sitions. Meanwhile the carriage rolled rapidly along ; and I kept an anxious look out from my window, in the hope of obtaining the succour of any person whom we might overtake or meet. I saw three or four straggling peasants, and cried out to them : but the equipage swept past like the wind ; and finding it thus impossible to call suc- cour unto myself, I grew very seriously alarmed. ' In a few minutes the carriage turned out of the road leading towards the Lodge and entered a bye-lane, which was only just wide enough to afford it a passage ; and if we had met any other vehicle, there must have been a dead stop. This was now my hope — but it proved futile ; and the carriage, at length emerging upon a broader road, to which that bye-lane was evidently a short cut, proceeded at a still more rapid pace than hitherto. Some way-side houses were passed — an occasional cart or waggon — once a party of ladies and gen- tlemen on horseback : and every time I screamed out for assistance. But none was afforded; and my companion gave me to understand that all my cries and efforts to escape would be imavailing. To be brief, at the expiration of another quarter of an hour after we had emerged from the lane, the carriage stopped at a spacious but gloomy-looking red brick house, standing in the midst of huge trees by the road side. Here I was desked to ahght, — my companion holding me by the arm to prevent my escape. The footman likewise stood near, evidently for the purpose of anticipating such an attempt on my part. The front-cloor of the house was opened by an old and cross-looking woman, having the appearance of a housekeeper, so far as I coidd judge by her dress, which was matronly and respectable. Without saying a word — but seeming as if she were perfectly weU ac- customed to incidents of this nature, she began to lead the way up the staircase. I stopped short in the hall, and demanded where I was and by what authority I was brought thither ? The yoimg gentleman then gave me to understand that he was Sir Maleohn "Wavenham — that this was a house in his possession — and that it was perfectly useless for me to offer resistance or expect succom*, as the domestics would obey his commands to the very letter. Both angry and frightened, as you may readily suppose " " I can indeed — the viUaia !" was the ejacu- lation that burst from my lips : for I was furious against the miscreant ; not only in consequence of what I was now hearing, but likewise because I reflected that he could not even keep faithful to the unfortunate and perhaps too confiding victim whose image was ever uppermost in my thoughts. " I informed Sir Malcolm "Wavenham," pro- ceeded Charlotte, " that I was attached to the ser- vice of Lady Calanthe Dundas, then a visitress at Myrtle Lodge : at which announcement Sir Mal- colm appeared to be amazed for a moment " " No doubt," I observed ; " inasmuch as he was invited to the dinner-party g^ven last evening in honour of Lady Calanthe's presence." " I went on to assure him," continued Charlotte, " that a rigorous search would be instituted after me, and that punishment would not fail to over- take him for the outrage which he was perpe- trating against me. At this he laughed, — observ- ing that in a day or two I should sing quite a different song, and express my wiUingness to be- come a lady at his expense. Again I repelled the prophetic overture with scorn ; and rushed towards the front-door. Sir Malcolm seized me round the waist, vowing •with a tremendous oath that I should not escape him thus ; and in order to avoid farther violence at his hands, I consented to go whithersoever the housekeeper was preparing to lead me. I was accordingly conducted up-stairs. 116 JOSEPH WIXMOT; OR, THE MEM0IE3 OP A MAN-SEEVANT. to a parlour on the second-floor, and ■whence a bed-chamber opened. There I was left to myself, — the doors being locked upon me. You may conceive what my feelings were, Joseph, on finding myself thus made a prisoner. I looked eagerly and anxiously about for the means of escape : but there were none. The windows were too high to allow me to entertain for an instant the thought of flight in that direction. Some hours passed, during which no one came near me, and total silence reigned throughout the dweUing. At length, about three o'clock — as it was getting dusk — the housekeeper made her appearance, followed by another female domestic, bearing a tray con- taining several dishes. The table was spread for my repast ; and I was respectfully invited to seat myself thereat. But I demanded my liberty, threatening these women with the vengeance of the law if they continued to be accomplices in their master's outrageous proceeding against me. They seemed unmoved by my menaces : I had recourse to entreaties — these were equally iinavailing. They left me, locking the door behind me ; and I was again alone — a captive — and a prey to my distress- ing thoughts." " Poor Charlotte !" I murmured : " what must you have suffered !" " I did indeed suffer much, Joseph. I was not merely alarmed on my own account, but tortured with anxiety as to what would be thought at the Lodge of my strange disappearance. But I will not dwell at unnecessary length on my narrative. SulRco it to say that I was very, very wretched, and that I did not touch a morsel of the food spread upon the table. I however drank copiously of water; for my throat was parched. At about seven o'clock the housekeeper and the other female re-appeared ; and clearing away the dinner things, they placed tea upon the table. Again I had rccoui-se to mingled threats and entreaties — but all in vain ; and once more was I left to myself. Then there was another interval of wretched re- flections and torturing alarms ; hours passed — and it was near eleven o'clock, when I heard the foot- steps of a man approaching the door. It opened — and Sir Malcolm Wavenham made his appear- ance. His countenance was flushed : he had evi- dently been paying his respects to the bottle ; and though he was not exactly tipsy, he was excited. I was filled with the direst apprehensions ; for I reflected that a man who had already shown him- self so desperately regardless of all consequences even in his coolest moments, would be ca- pable of any wickedness when under the in- fluence of wine. The housekeeper followed him into the room, bearing a salver, on which were decanters and glasses ; and having de- posited them upon the table, she was about to retire, when I adjured her to stop. — ' Pooh ! pooh !' said the Baronet : ' she knows her duty :' — and away she accordingly went. Sir Malcolm Wavenham then sat down ; and fillin g two glasses, besought me to take one. You may be sure that I refused : whereupon he began remonstrating with me for what he called my foolish scruples. I vnH not tell you, Joseph, all the temptations with which he plied me : but I will observe that I re- jected them indignantly, — again and again de- manding my freedom, or entreating it, by turns. Thus did an hour pass ; and it was midnight : Sir Malcolm had continued drinking; and I hoped that he would become so intoxicated that I should be enabled to escape. Indeed I was all along watching my opportunity from the moment he had entered, as the door of the apartment had remained xmlocked. But he seemed thoroughly on his guard in that respect ; while, with reference to the wine, it appeared to produce little efiect upon him. Look- ing at his watch, he suddenly ejaculated it was midnight; and rising from his seat, he had just begun to address me in terms which made me red with shame and indignation, — when he stopped short as the sounds of a horse gaUopping up to the door of the house, reached our ears. For a few moments he seemed frightened : but abruptly exclaiming, '^fo, it can't be she !' he went on with his infamous speech. I was about to rush ia wild desperation to the door of the apartment, — when it was thrown open ; and a beautiful creature, dressed in a riding-habit, burst into our presence." " Ah !" I ejaculated : and for an instant I was on the point of betraying all the emotions which were excited in my soul by this sudden allusion to one whose image was so constantly in my memory : but checking myself, I continued to listen without showing what I felt. " Yes, she was indeed a charming creature !" continued Charlotte: "but her countenance was crimson with indignation — her eyes seemed to flash fire " " L^nhappy Annabel !" I said in the secret depths of my own soul : but my lips gave utterance not to the words. " Sir Malcolm TTavenham appeared for a few moments to be utterly confounded ; and all his insolent assurance seemed to have aban- doned him. The young lady — I do not think she could be more than seventeen or eighteen — ad- vanced into th3 room ; and coming straight up to me, was about to say something, when Sir Malcolm ejaculated, ' Violet, this is too bad !' — ' Too bad ?' she echoed bitterly : ' yes, far too bad on your part ! You will at once sufier this young woman to go hence.' — ' No,' cried Sir Malcolm, with a voice and look full of rage and disappointment.^ ' But you wiU !' said the yoimg lady, in a peremp- tory manner : ' if not, I myself wiU at once pro- ceed ekewhere to invoke the succour of the proper authorities.' — ' You, Violet ?' ejaculated Sir Mal- colm. — ' Yes, I,' she responded, with haughty firm- ness. And now that I can reflect with calmness upon that scene, I can vividly depict to myself this bright and beautiful creature of sylphid sleu- derness — but so admirably shaped — appearing of a stature far greater than she really was, as her form was drawn up and she seemed to look down with a goddess-like authority upon the Baronet. He muttered a few words : she heeded them not ; but turning to me, she said, 'There, young woman, the door is open: you are free. But one word ere you take your departure :' — and she drew me aside as she thus spoke : then, abruptly lowering her voice so that it sank into a tremulous whisper, she added, ' If you feel any gratitude towards me for what I am now doiag, you will spare him as much as possible. Yes, I beseech you to deal leniently with Sir Malcolm Wavenham!' — The tears were now trickling down her lovely cheeks ; and I felt deeply on her behalf. Eeadily, and eagerly indeed, did I give her the assurance that I would take no JOSEPH WILMOT ; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A 5IAX-SERVAXT. 117 legal steps to punish the author of the outrage I had sustained. She seized my hand — pressed it warmly — and then motioned impatiently towards the door. I snatched up my bonnet and shawl, and darted forth from the room, — more than half expecting that Sir Malcolm Wavenham would be the next moment on my track. But my appre- hension was unfoimded. I descended the stairs without the slightest hindrance on the part of the housekeeper, the other female servant, and the lacquey, all three of whom I encountered on my way ; and I let myself out of the front door." " Thank heaven, you thus fortunately escaped !" I observed, but secretly wondering what after- wards transpired between Sir Malcolm and her whom he called by the name of Violet. " Yes — I escaped," resumed Charlotte : " and I fled away from the house with the utmost pre- cipitation. But thankful though I was at having thus regained my freedom, I was nevertheless still in a very awkward position. It was past mid- night — I was ia the midst of a lonely road — the cLirkness hung like a pall around me — I was full of apprehensions. Nevertheless, I hurried along, perfectly well convinced by the direction whence I had been brought in the morning, that every step was bring^g me nearer to the neighbourhood in which the Lodge was situated. At length I met a peasant ; and fortunately he was a very civil man. I asked him how far it was to Myrtle Lodge : he told me three good mUes from the spot where we then stood : but he gave me such ex- plicit directions how to find my way, that I did not despair of reaching my destination soon. I rewarded the man for his civility; and proceed- ing at as rapid a pace as possible, I reached the Lodge — but thoroughly worn out with exhaustion of mind and body. And now you know all." Charlotte and I continued to discourse together for some short time longer in the garden; and when we re-entered the house, we found that Miss Dakin had taken her departure. She had gone away on foot, leaving her boxes to be sent for presently : but before she set out she tried hard to obtain an interview with Lady Georgiana, — doubtless in the hope of moving her patroness to compassion. The attempt had however proved unavailing : her lady- ship positively declined to grant her an interview, and sent her out by her maid whatsoever salary was due, calculated even to the nicety of pence. On entering the servants' room, I received the congratulations of the cook, the lady's-maid, and the housemaid, on the satisfactory issue of that day's proceedings : and John Eobert, with another of his usual grxmts, repeated his own assurances of joy at the same result. Mr. Tiverton, immediately after the scene in the drawing-room, set off to Exeter to give infor- mation to the proper authorities, of the biu"- glarious attempt which had been made at the Lodge : but as he did not think fit to ofi'er a reward for the apprehension of the villains, nor even go to the expense of handbills or placards pub- lishing a description of their persons, the con- stables gave him little hope of being enabled to trace them out. CHAPTER XXVI. LADY CALASXHE. On the following day, Charlotte Murray sought an opportunity of again speaking to me alone ; and she said, " Joseph, I have a very agreeable duty to fulfil on behalf of my dear mistress. You have seen how slow she was to believe you guilty — how much she deplored the probability that you were so, when circumstances seemed to press heavily against you — and how unfeignedly rejoiced she was when your innocence was proved. She can well imderstand how painful have been your feelings, and how your spirit must have smarted under an imputation as false as it was terrible. She can likewise well understand that you must have been hurt as well as insulted at the wretched meanness of her sister and brother-in-law when speaking of recompensing you. But I dare say, Joseph, you think that I am delivering a very long oration, and in very serious terms too, for a giddy, thought- less creature such as I am " " Never mind your giddiness, Charlotte," I in- terrupted her : " you possess a good heart and good principles too : and those are the essentials." " Well, Joseph, I don't think that all my laugh- ing and gaiety will ever make me the worse in any one respect. But to the point — Lady Calanthc feels that you really do deserve some little ac- knowledgment from some quarter or another. To be brief, however, she has desired me to request your acceptance of this. If ever you should get out of place, you know, for a time — you may find it useful." With these words, Charlotte put a bank-note into my hands : and I perceived that it was for ten pounds. " No," I said, " I could not think for a single moment of accepting it." " What, Joseph !" she cried, contemplating me with amazement. " You ■nill not take it ? Come now — I give you credit for a very proper spirit and for sensitive feelings : but this, you know, is being over nice and somewhat too particular !" " Pray don't fancy, Charlotte, that I am giving myself any airs," I hastened to say ; " because of that I am incapable. I do not however conceive that I have the faintest right or title to this evi- dence of Lady Calanthe's bounty." " But a person in our situation, Joseph," urged Charlotte, " may accept such things without pre- cisely " " No," I again inferrupted her : " I would much rather not take this bank-note." " Why, after having prevented the house from being broken into by robbers — and perhaps all the inmates, my dear young mistress included, mur- dered in their beds " "If Mr. Tiverton had thought proper," I an- swered, " to profier a fitting acknowledgment of my services, I should have accepted it as a matter of course : but from Lady Calanthe I can take nothing. She gave me her sympathy , and that was priceless above all aiaounts of gold. No, Charlotte — I respectfully decline to accept the note: but I return my sincurcst gratitude lur this additional evidence of generosity on Lady Ca- lanthe's part." 118 JOSEPH WILMOT; OB, THE MEMOIHS OF A MAN-SEEVANT. Charlotte again surveyed me with astonishment : but I could see that as she reflected for a few instants, she thought more highly of me than even she had done before. "You are an extraordinary youth," she ob- served, with a smile, displaying her white teeth ; " and if you were a few years older I should be very apt to fall in love with you. But seriously speaking, Joseph — short as is the time we have been acquainted, I have conceived a very sincere friendship for you, and I shall always be glad to hear of your welfare. Now, as to this bank-note," she continued, receiving it back again from my hands, " we will say no more about it. Eest assured, however, that I shall inform Lady Ca- lanthe of everything which has just passed be- tween us. By the bye, Joseph, I was going to ask you a question — but it's of no great conse- quence :" and she blushed somewhat, looking a little confused. "Do speak, Charlotte: what was it you were going to say ?" "Oh, only through mere curiosity — ^whether you made any arrangement to correspond with Charles Linton ?" — and again she blushed, so that I suspected she had been rather smitten with Mr. Eavenshill's handsome valet when we met him at Exeter. " No," I answered, with a smile ; " I made no such arrangement. But I have not the slightest doubt that now Charles knows where I am living, he will write to me : and depend upon it, Char- lotte," I added, still smiling, " I will show you the letter. He is a very kind-hearted, good, steady young man " " Oh, I have no doubt of it," ejaculated Char- lotte, as she averted her blushing countenance : and here the colloquy ended. That same afternoon I happened to meet Lady Calanthe on the stairs; and I could not help thinking that she regarded me in a way as if she were by no means offended at my having refused the bank-note. I was well pleased at this idea ; inasmuch as I would not for the world have suf- fered in the opinion of so amiable a young lady who had shown me so much kindness. A month passed away: several parties were given; and ray fellow-servants assured me that ever since they had been at the Lodge, they had never known so much gaiety. Nothing was heard by the Exeter constables of Tom Taddy or Bill Blackboard ; and therefore I presumed these in- dividuals had at once fled precipitately out of the neighbourhood, on the faUure of their burglarious attempt at Myrtle Lodge. Neither did Lady Georgiana take any steps to procure another " companion :" the society of her sister was no doubt suflicient for the present. The incident I am now about to relate, occurred at the expiration of the mouth to which I have just alluded. It was one forenoon, on a fine frosty day at the end of January, that Mr. Tiverton gave me a letter to take across to a gentleman who dwelt at a distance of about a mile and a half from Myrtle Lodge. The weather was cold, with a healthy bracing breeze, and not with that search- ing, nipping chill which so often prevails at the particular season of which I am writing. The sky was of almost unclouded blue, — the uniformity of the cerulean expanse being scarcely broken by a few thin fleecy vapours. The earth was as hard as marble, — one's footsteps sounding upon the ground, and the tread being free and elastic. In short, it was one of those days when the frame seems invigorated by exercise — a warmth is speedily infused into the blood — the circulation becomes rapid — and the spirits rise accordingly. My way lay through the fields, which were intersected by a beaten path, — so that there was no necessity to tread upon the grass, on which the frost glittered like mji-iads of seed-pearls. I had traversed a couple of fields, when I observed Lady Georgiana and her sister Calanthe, walking at some little distance ahead. I had just crossed the stile lead- ing into the third field, in the middle of which I had thus caught sight of them, — when all in aii instant, shrieks of terror smote my ears : — wild screams of horrible alarm they were ; — shrill, rending, and penetrating, they rang through the clear frosty air! At the same moment, both Lady Georgiana and Lady Calanthe came flying back towards the stile ; and the cause of all this as promptly met my eye. An infuriate bull was rushing across the field ; — and scarcely had those piercing shrieks proclaimed the alarm of the affrighted ladies, when the bellowing of the monster sounded like the savage roar of a wild beast in a forest. As if wings were fastened to my feet, I rushed forward. I ran no, it was not running — it was absolute flying! — and as I thus sped along, I was astonished at the miraculous rate at which I passed over the ground. It seemed as if 1 were borne on the pinions of the wind. But the mad bull was gaUopping onward at a still faster pace, — tossing his head, and bel- lowing horribly. Lady Georgiana was in advance of Lady Calanthe : both were running for their lives, — but the former, having turned first, thus kept ahead of her apparently doomed sister. A horrible crisis seemed to be at hand : the danger was terrific. On came the infuriate animal; Lady Georgiana was screaming wildly — but her sister Calanthe had ceased to cry out. Suddenly, to my anguish and dismay. Lady Calanthe fell down: she had evi- dently swooned with affright ! Another moment, and she would have been gored to death : but with my hat held forward in one hand, and a red silk pocket handkerchief in the other, I rushed straight at the mad bull, — resolved that, if I could not thus succeed in terrifying it, I would at least become its victim, in the hope of appeasing its rage or diverting its attention from Calanthe Dundas. The effect was fortunately instantane- ous : the bull stopped short so suddenly that it fell back upon its haunches, just like a horse that is rearing. And then, as I waved my kerchief before its eyes, — myself being but three feet dis- tant from its tremendous horns, — it turned abruptly round, and gallopped away, — neither bellowing nor tossing its head any longer. I caught up Lady Calanthe in my arms. I called out to Lady Georgiana to turn and lend mo her assistance ^but she sped on towards the stile, still screaming wildly. How she scrambled over it, I know not : but certain it is that as I dragged Lady Calanthe, who was still in a deep swoon, towards that point, I perceived that my mistress was lying — also inanimate — on the opposite side of the stile. Looking round, to assure myself JOSEPH WILMOT; or, THE MEMOIRS OE A MAN-SERVANT, 119 that the enemy had no intention of renewing his attack, — and joyfully perceiving that he had not, but that he was now standing quiet at the farther extremity of the field, — I got Lady Calantho over the stile ; and not caring to trouble myself for a single moment about Lady Georgiana, I supported her beautiful sister in my arms,— calling upon her to open her eyes, and speak : for I knew not what other means to adopt in order to recover her. She soon began to revive ; and as she did open her eyes, she glanced in wild terror around, — the first idea which returning consciousness brought, being evidently the last one that was in her mind as she fainted. " Yova ladyship is safe," I said, still holding her in my arms as I sat on the step of the stile. "You are out of danger — there is nothing to fear !" She closed her eyes, as if to enjoy the luxury of this sense of life to which she awoke in security ; and as I gazed down upon her countenance, I perceived the tint of the rose coming back to the cheeks wliich a few moments before were so pale. A smile, too, began to play upon her lips — but faintly : and yet it was a smUe — perceptible, though so faint ! Again she opened her eyes — her bosom heaved with a long-drawn sigh — and as she slowly raised herself up, she said in a soft tremidous voice, " Joseph, how was this ? Am I indebted to you for my life P" " I had the satisfaction of saving your ladyship," was my answer. " But how ? and are you yourself altogether vm- hurt ?" she asked, taking my hand — pressing it — and gazing upon me with an expression of tender- ness ineflfably sweet. " I sustained no injury, I can assure your lady- ship. My hat and my kerchief were my weapons, with which I frightened off the monster. But my mistress !" — and I pointed to Lady Georgiana. " Heavens ! and I had neglected her !" ejacu- lated Lady Calanthe. " Help me, Joseph, to raise her up." I did so : and Lady Georgiana speedily began to revive. At this moment a gentleman-farmer, who lived in the neighbourhood, came running up to the spot ; and seizing me by the hand, he shook it in the heartiest manner, — exclaiming, " I saw it all ! You are the bravest youth that ever was ! I would not have done it myself on any account !" — then addressing himself to Lady Calanthe, he said, " You may thank this noble-hearted lad for being alive at this instant. You don't know aU he did for you — the fearful risk he ran ! He rushed up to the very points of the bull's horns, as gallantly as the brute itself was careering along madly. It was a horrible sight — but a glorious one ! Yes, he is the bravest lad I ever set eyes upon !" Lady Calanthe bent upon me a look fuU of the tenderest gratitude: there seemed indeed to be love in that look. If I had been her equal, and if my heart were disengaged, I should have been jus- tified in regarding it as an avowal. Lady Georgiana was now enabled to regain her feet ; and her sister informed her of what I had done. The good- hearted farmer burst forth into a fresh ebullition of praises, so warm and glowing that they made me blush for very shame at hearing myself thus eulogized. Lady Calanthe expressed her gratitude in a few words — but these were uttered in a low deep tone, and contrasted greatly with the com- paratively cold expressions which Lady Georgiana condescended to vouchsafe. The gentleman-farmer offered to escort the two ladies back to the Lodge, — intimating that as they must doubtless feel weak and feeble sJter the fright they had endured and the swoon through which they had passed, they would like to lean upon his arms. Lady Calanthe bade me come with them, that I might have a glass of wine after my own exhausting exertions : but I answered that I had a letter to take for Mr. Tiver- ton, and must proceed on my errand. I was about to climb over the stile, intending to skirt the hedge of the field in which the enemy roamed at large, — when Lady Calanthe, catching me by the arm, ex- claimed, " No, Joseph ! you must not go that way ! It is sheer madness ! I beseech and implore you not to do so !" " I will not, in that case, my lady," was my an- swer : and as I descended the steps of the stile, I again noticed that she bent upon me that look of tenderness which was so ineffably sweet and ap- peared to reflect the feelings of the heart. I hastened away to take another path, — wiule the two ladies, leaning on the gentleman-farmer's . arms, repaired in the direction of the Lodge. I saw Lady Calanthe look back ; and I felt that I was the object of the sincerest gratitude on her part. On I sped towards the house where I had to deliver the letter : no answer was needed — and I retraced my way homeward. On arriving at the Lodge, the first person I met was Charlotte, who came rushing out of the domestics' room the in- stant she saw me enter the back-yard. " You noble fellow !" she exclaimed, in a tone full of heartfelt enthusiasm; "you have risked your life for my beloved mistress ! O Joseph, you are a perfect hero !" " The days of knight-errantry and Quixotism are gone by, Charlotte," I answered, with a smile : " or else possibly it might be said I had encoun- tered some dreadful enchanter in the form of a buU, and whose magic spells were dissipated by the talisman of a red handkerchief." " You good-for-nothing boy," she exclaimed, "how can you afford to laugh after the terrific danger to which you were exposed ? Do you know — but of course you do — that there was a moment when yoiu* life was not worth so much as a single blade of the grass where the incident oc- curred? The gentleman who came home with the ladies, said so. But Lady Calanthe is in the drawing-room ; and she desired me to teU you that the moment you came in, you were to go up to her : for she feels that she has not yet thanked you sufiiciently." " And Lady Georgiana — does she feel the effects of her fright ?" " She has gone to bed very ill — and Mr. Tiver- ton has set off himself to Exeter for a doctor. He thought he could run quicker than John Robert. But pray go up to the drawing-room at once : for Lady Calanthe positively ordered that you were not to delay a minute." " You are coming too, Charlotte ?" I said. " I coming too ? No such thing ! Go quick, Joseph — and don't stand chattering here. Lady Calanthe possesses a good heart, and is in haste to acquit herself, as speedily as she can, of the debt of gratitude which she owes you that is to say, 120 JOSEPH -WILMOT; OK, THE MEMOIE3 OF A MAN-SEKTANT. 83 far as thanks will do so : for after the affair of the bank-note, she is sure to offer you nothing else." "And even the repetition of those thanks is unnecessary," I responded : but thus speaking, I left Charlotte and ascended at once to the drawing- room, Avhere I found Lady Calanthe alone. She was half-reclining upon the sofa, with that air of languor which was natural enough after the excitement she had gone through. I have already said that she was about eighteen years of age ; and that the expression of her countenance was so sweet as entirely to mitigate the haughty curve of her upper lip. Her large dark eyes shone with a lustre that was subdued by the thick fringes of the lids ; the raven masses of her hair fell in heavy clusters upon her shoulders of sculptural per- fection ; while one or two stray ringlets, twining round upon her throat, set off the alabaster purity of that dazzling neck. One fair hand supported her head as she lay thus half-reclining on the sofa : the other drooped over the black horse-hair cushion, and seemed like modelled ivory resting upon a groimd of ebony. Altogether she was a most beautiful creature — endowed with charms full well calculated to make an impression upon a heart not previously engaged. I entered into her presence with considerable diffidence : for I did not wish to be thanked over again for what I had done, — regarding the Lnoident as perfectly natural, and my proceeding such as any other person with even the faintest courage or spirit would have adopted. I forgot at the time what the gentleman-farmer had said : namely, that on no consideration would he have run such a risk. But it was not only because I disliked being thanked so often, that I ft-lt thus dillident. It was also because there was within me a suspicion — faint however as the ringing of far-off bells in the ear — that Lady Calanthe's looks, when at the stile, had expressed something more than grati- tude. I had endeavoured to banish this sus- picion : I had even blushed at my own presumption in entertaining it : — but nevertheless it would keep in my mind ; and it was on account thereof that I had asked Charlotte whether she did not mean to accompany me up into the drawing-room. Thus, altogether I felt much confused and em- barrassed, — just as if I had done something wrong and was sent for to be upbraided accordingly. Nor was this feeling of awkwardness mitigated when I beheld the coloui' coming and going in rapid transitions upon Lady Calanthe's counte- nance : for she also looked confused — and for the first few moments of my presence there, not a syllable passed her lips. " Joseph," at length she said, her voice low and tremulous, — and having glanced at me, she quickly bent down her eyes agaia : " I suppose Charlotte has informed you that I wished to express my gratitude for the inestimable service you have this day rendered me. I was fearful that just now I might not have said as much as I could have wished — as much as your magnanimous conduct deserved " " I can assure your ladyship," I observed, " that you honoured me with the fullest and completest acknowledgments.' ' " Do not say that I honoured you, Joseph," replied Lady Calanthe : " that is a word which cannot be used in reference to one who saved the life of a fellow-creature at the di-ead peril of his own. I wish that I could do something for you. I wUl not insult you by the offer of pecimiary compensation but if there be any other way in which, through the interest of my father Lord Mandeville, I coidd possibly help you on in the world for, candidly speaking, Joseph, you seem above your position Were you not well brought upp" "I was educated, my lady, xuitil the age of fifteen, at a school where the sons of gentlemen and superior tradesmen were received." " And how happened it, then, Joseph, that sub- sequent circumstances have failed to correspond with those of your earlier years ? Do not for a moment think," Lady Calanthe hastened to observe, " that I am questioning you from motives of idle curiosity " " No — I am certain your ladyship is animated by generous motives ; and I thank you sincerely for all the interest you have shown on my behalf. Your ladyship treated me with kindness when all others appeared to be against me; and in one sense I am glad that the incident of this morning occurred, as it afforded me an opportunity of proving my gratitude." "And now," added Lady Calanthe, speaking softly, and with a blush upon her cheeks, " the weight of obligation rests with me. Never can I pay the debt which I owe you ! But you have not answered my question Perhaps it is painful for you to think of the past 1 remember you said that you were an orphan " " I have every reason to believe so," was my response, the tears trickling down my cheeks : but hastily brushing them away, I went on to observe, '■' There is some strange mystery attached to ray eai-liest years 1 believe that I have an uncle at least, there is a person in the world who asserts that degree of relationship : and he tells me that my parents are no more. I cannot un- derstand wherefore he should deceive me. Certain it is that I never knew my father or mother " " Poor Joseph !" murmured Lady Calanthe, as she gazed upon me with an expression of sym- pathy so deep, so touching, that it appeared to melt into tenderness. " But if you were so well cared for at school — so well educated as you evi- dently are — and your manners, too, having been so well cultivated " " I know what your ladyship would ask — how it is that I find myself in a menial position ? The ex- planation can be given in a few words. The school at which I was brought up, was abandoned in consequence of the death of the master : I had no friends to take charge of me : even the very payments for my maintenance were in arrear ; and thus was I tiu'ned adrift upon the world, self- dependent." " But I thought you said, Joseph, that you had an imcle ?" observed Lady Calanthe, still speaking in a voice fuU of a melting pathos. " Oh, that imcle !" I ejaculated, shuddering at the bare thought of Mr. Lanover's hideous image : "heaven shield me from him!" " Ah ! I understand," said Lady Calanthe. " He proved harsh and severe to you — unkind, ungene- rous ?" — and then she again softly breathed the words, " Poor Joseph !" JOSEPU WILMOT ; There was now a pauic, dui-lug which she looked at, me with the mingled hesitation and confusion of one who longed to say something, yet had not the courage to give utterance to it ; and feeling my position becoming awkward, even to painful- ues9, I began moving towards the door. "Do not go for a moment," she said : and then lier coimtenance became suffused with the bright- est crimson, " I had so many things to talk to you about And, by the bye, you have not told me whether you accept my proposal, that I should ask my father to procure you some situation bettor suited to your capacities — something, for instance, in a Government office — ■ — " "In London?" I ejaculated, again shuddering at the hideous image of Mr. Lanover, as it rose up before me in all its horrible deformity, and with its diabolic expression of countenance. " No, iny lady ! A thousand thanks — but I much pre- fer living in the country." IC She regarded me with earnestness— evidently thinking that there was something strange in the excited manner of my refusal, and also that there were other mysteries attached to me besides those whereat I had hinted. She did not however question me farther : she saw that the subject was painful ; and once more was there an awkward pause. Again too was I moving towards the door, when she started up from the sofa ; and hastening towards me, took my hand, which trembled even more than her own. " Joseph," she said, bending her fine dark eyes upon me, while the deepest blush mantled upon her countenance, even up to the very summit of her forehead, — "I can restrain my feelings no longer ! I owe you my life — it is your's will you, will you allow me to devote it to r/ou ?" I dared not understand the avowal ; that is to say, I did comprehend it — but yet this very com- prehension struck me as being so audacious and 122 JOSEPH WILSrOX ; OR, THE MEMOIES OF A MAN-SERVANT, presumptuous on my partj that I was utterly con- founded. " Joseph — dear Joseph," murmured Calanthe Dundas, "hear me speak the truth plainly 1 love you ! From the very first moment I beheld you within these walls, I felt interested in you. Then came the hideous treachery of my sister's wretched companion; and despite the weight of circumstances, my heart forbade me from believing you guilty. Oh ! even then I felt so much inte- rest on your behalf that I could have become a more enthusiastic champion of your cause than I was : but you understand — motives of delicacy re- strained me. Not you yourself, Joseph, experi- enced a livelier joy than that which took possession of my soul when your innocence was made mani- fest. In the secrecy and solitude of my own cham- ber, I wept with delight. Next, when Charlotte informed me how you refused that little gift which I charged her to present to you, I was again smitten with joy and delight : I perceived at once that yo\U" notions were above your position — I recognised in you a high-mindedness which ren- dered you all the more estimable and admirable to my contemplation. A month has passed since those occurrences ; and diu-ing this interval the feelings of interest which I first experienced, have deepened and widened they have grown into love ! I suspected their nature ; and frankly do I confess that I eudcavoui-ed to conquer them Yes, and I essayed to convince myself that they were only those of friendship. But to-day Oh ! to-day, the conviction has been forced upon me — I have opened my eyes to the real truth ! If I had analyzed those feelings for hours, I could not have reached a conclusion so positive as that with which the adventure of this morning smote me all in an instant. Now, Joseph, I have spoken frankly and candidly my haj^piness depends upon you. We are both young : we may hope that circumstances in the coui'sc of a few years will prove favoui'able — ^-At all events, I will renounce everything and make any sacrifice for your sake !" Not a single word had fallen from Bay lips while Lady Calanthe Dundas was thus addressing me : she still too retained my hand in her own — and there we stood in the middle of the room, that beautiful patrician lady revealing the secrets of her heart to me, a hiunble domestic with the livery- badge of servitude on my back ! Her counte- nance varied in expression with every successive detail of her confessions, — now mantling in blushes, and the eyes being downcast — now glowing with a fervid animation, and the gaze of those eyes fixed upon me — then relapsing again into confusion, accompanied by the soft -sinking of the voice, and by the veiling of the glances beneath the thick fringes of the eye-lids ! I was filled with iueffable emotions. Though my previous suspicion was now fully cleared up, yet was I as confounded, as amazed, and as stupified as if the avowal to which I listened had been altogether unexpected. I felt proud and happy in one sense — sad and alarmed in another. It was natm-al that I should be flat- tered at what was passing : but not the less grieved was I at thus hearing the revelation of a love which I felt my heart could not reciprocate. For that heart was filled with the image of Anna- bel ; and I thought to myself that lost, degraded, and undone though Annabel were, it was as im- possible for me to cease from loving her as to ex- tinguish the light of the svm or quench its beams at noon-day ! " You do not answer me, Joseph ?" said Lady Calanthe, now trembling visibly from head to foot, as she gazed upon me with ineffable tenderness, and yet with a becoming virginal modesty over all. " Banish from your mind the idea of what- soever inequality of social position may exist be- tween us ! — think not of it ! We stand now upon the same footing But perhaps you consider me guilty of unfeminine boldness in having thus addressed you ?" " Oh, no, dear lady !" I exclaimed, scarcely knowing what I did say : and then I stopped sud- denly short,-— 'filled •«dth confusion — vexed and angry with myself for having suflxjred even those few ejaculfttory words to escape my lips : for I saw that they wew instantaneously caught up by Calanthe as an avowal of reciprocal affection. " Do not call me lady," she gently murmured, pressing my hand tenderly between both her own. " Henceforth, whenever we may be alone together, there must be no cold formality on your side. I wn only Calanthe to you." " But your ladyship——'* "Oh! now, scarcely has the injunction been breathed, than you treat me thus !" she exclaimed, in a mild voice of reproach. " But let that pass. You will know me better soon, Joseph thank heaven, I see that I am not indifferent to you ! you will learn to love me ! And rest assured, dearest Josej^h, that never, never shall I repent the avowal which I have this day made. Oh, no ! my happiness is concerned therein— it is now centred wholly and solely in you !" I knew not how to act. I was about to inform her, when she so suddenly interrupted me, that much as I was honoured and flattered by all she had said, I was incapable of reciprocating the sentiment she had avowed. But now I had not the moral courage to speak thus plainly. I could not, with a single word, destroy that happiness which she had just assured me was altogether centred in the feelings she entertained, and which those inconsiderate words of seeming endearment that I let djfop, had led her to believe were fully and completely shared by me. And then too, I beheld her radiant under the influence of those feelings — I saw the animation of joy upon her beautiful countenance, its light swimming in her lustrous eyes ; — and I could not — no, I could not fling so cruel a damj) upon all she thus expe- rienced ! I was stiU a prey to an inexplicable confusion ; and it was natural that she should put upon my silence and my aspect an interpretation altogether consonant with the experiences of her own heart, " You must leave me now, Joseph — dear Joseph," she said. " Charlotte will wonder that you are here so long For heaven's sake, do not by yoiu' looks excite her suspicions !" " No, no," I exclaimed quickly ; " not for worlds !" — and breaking abruptly from Lady Ca- lanthe, I rushed from the room. Feeling convinced that if at that moment I encountered Charlotte, she could not fail to read in my countenance that something extraordinary- had taken place, I sped up to my own chamber. JOSEPH WIIMOT ; OE, THE MEMOIES 01' A MAN-SERVANT. 123 There I sat down to reflect — deliberatelr, if po's- sible — upon all tliat had occurred. Good heavens ! was it a reality or a dream ? — was I the object of Lady Calanthe's lore ? and had I been foolish enough to leave her in the dark as to the impos- sibility of my soul reciprocating it? Yes, such was the manner in which wc had separated ; and as I now retrospccted over all the details of our interview, I couid scarcely wonder at my own confusion, — though I did not the less blame my- self for the fault into which it had betrayed mo. I should have dealt candidly with her — I should have interrupted her at the very outset — I should not have suffered her to imbosom her revelations until the end ! Oh, how vexed I was at my want of moral courage ! how bitterly did I blame myself! But what was to be done? To seek another interview with Lady Calanthe, and to tell her now what I ought to have told her before, would be to cover her with humiliation. I could not do it : and yet something must bo done — it was not possible to leave her imdeceived ! But how was a fitting explanation to be made ? The longer I meditated, the more I was bewildered; and as is usual in such cases, I could arrive at no settled purpose. Several days passed away; and no opportunity presented itself for me to be alone with Lady Calanthe for more than a few moments at a time, and this only on two or three occasions. But then she failed not to grasp my hand and press it warmly in her own, — bending upon mo looks full of the deepest love ; and perhaps in the mingled mournfulness and confusion of my owm counte- nance, she fancied she beheld the evidence of love on my part. Lady Georgiana had got quite well again. I had received the thanks of Mr. Tiverton in respect to the adventure of the bull ; and he had generously offered me half a sovereign as a I'eward, — which I had declined with perhaps some- what more firmness than respect. Another dinner- party took place ; and the time was now at hand when, according to original arrangements. Lady Calanthe was to retm-n to her father's seat in the neighbourhood of London. CHAPTER XXVII. A 8UEPKISE. OiTE morning the postman brought a letter ad- dressed to myself; and it was delivered to me by John Robert in the servants' room. Charlotte Murray was seated there at the time ; and I ob- served that she watched me with some degree of interest as I read it. " Now perhaps, Joseph," she said, glancing around to assure herself that we two were alone present, " you will have the goodness to tell me who is your correspondent." " To be sure, Charlotte," I responded, smiling. " It is a certain person whom you once saw, though perhapa you may have forgotten all about it " " Don't be so silly, Joseph !" she interrupted me, half in good-nature, half in confusion. " Come, sir, tell me at once ! that letter is from Charles Linton? Not that I am curious, you know, to penetrate into any secrets that there may be between you: but as youj-ourself assured me he is such a kind-hearted young man, I should like to learn that he is in good health." " And suppose, Charlotte, that he positively and actually sends a message to you," I said, mis- cliicvously tantalizing her a little, — "should you be ofFcuded ?" '■ I am very certain, Joseph," she exclaimed, blusliiiig, "that lie does not even mention my name ; and I defy you to prove that he does." " Oh ! very well : I will soon convince you to the contrary. It is a long letter, you perceive. I have already told you many circumstances con- nected with the Ravcnshill family : I am now in- formed that the reconciliation is complete between Mr. RavcnshiU's wife and her parents — therefore with Mr. Ravcnshill himself. The old lord and her ladyship are still upon the Continent. Mr. Jen- kinsou has settled a handsome income upon the young couple : but not a word has been mentioned of his advancing any money for the purpose of buying back, if practicable, the Ravenshill estates. These lire the principal news contained in Charles Linton's letter." "Well, then," exclaimed Charlotte, "if there arc really no secrets, just let me read it for myself. I am very much interested indeed in the affairs of the Ravcnshills " " Oh, no doubt !" I said, still tantalizing Char- lotte in a good-huiifourcd manner. " By the bye, here is what Charles says, where your name is mentioned : — ' Give my remembrances to Miss Murray.' " " Well, it is laconic enough," she observed, with an evident air of disappointment : and not choosing to trifle ^vith her any longer, I gave her* the letter. " You wicked fcUow !" she exclaimed, as a blush mantled upon her cheeks, and her eyes swam with a pleasiu'e which it was impossible for her to con- ceal : " how dare you tell me such stories ? Your friend says, 'Pray give my very kindest regards to Bliss Slurray ; and tell her that I have not for- gotten the agreeable little walk we had in Exeter ; and likewise that when she returns with her mis- tress to jMande\'ille Hall, near Enfield, I shall not fail to seek an early opportunity to pay my re- spects to her.' — What made you take such pleasure in teazing me, Joseph ?" " Well, I must confess, Charlotte, it was very wicked on my part," I answered, smiling : " but somehow or another, I suspected that Charles Linton was not altogether indifferent to you ; and I was determined to ascertain the truth. So, as I am going to answer his letter presently, I shall not forget to mention that his message pleased you ; and I can also convey him one from you in reply." " If you must mention ray name," answered Charlotte, blushing, "you can tell him that as a matter of course I shall be happy to see him at Mandevillo Hall. It is but ordinary civility, you know ; and therefore, Master Joseph, you are not to put any of your own mischievous constructions upon the proceeding." At this moment the bell of Lady Calanthe's bed-chamber rang; and as Charlotte was obliged to hasten off and attend ujjon her mistress, our colloquy ended. 124 JOSEPH ■WILMOT; OB, THE MEM0IB3 OF A MAIT-SERTANT. On the following day letters arrived from Mandeville Hall for Lady Calantho Dandas ; and I presently learnt from Charlotte that her lady- ship's parents and sisters were now anxious for her to retiu'n home. A few minutes after re- ceiving this intelligence, I had occasion to ascend to the parlour, where Lady Calanthe and Lady Georgiana were seated, — Mr. Tiverton being out at the time ; and I could not help observing that Charlotte's young mistress seemed low-spirited, and that she threw upon me a mournful look — though her eyes were instantaneously averted again, no doubt through fear of being noticed by Lady Georgiana. Having delivered to my mis- tress the message which had taken me to the parlour, I retired; and was traversing the hall, when the door which I had just closed behind me, opened again — and Lady Calanthe came forth. She beckoned me towards her in a hasty and excited manner ; and in a low quick whisper, said, " Meet me at one o'clock precisely, at the stUe leading into the field which was the scene of your noble conduct the other day. I wUl find some excuse to walk forth alone. Do you think you can manage it ?" — then, as footsteps were sud- denly heard descending the stairs, she added quickly, " You must — you must !" She hastened away in ono direction, while I retreated in another ; and when I had somewhat recovered from the confusion, excitement, and perplexity into which that rapidly given assigna- tion had thrown me, I felt glad that it was to take place. As the reader is aware, I had blamed my- self for my moral weakness in not speaking can- didly and frankly to Lady Calanthe Dundas on the memorable day when she avowed her love in the drawing-room : no opportunity had since then occurred for me to repair the injury which I had so involuntarily done ; and therefore was I re- joiced that an occasion was now oflered for me to disabuse her of a deplorable error into which my weakness, timidity, and confusion had led her at the time. But while in one sense I was thus rejoiced, in another I was afflicted; for it was njt a very agreeable task which I had to perform : — on the contrary, it waa a duty of a painful character. The dinn3r in the servants' room being at one o'clock, and the routine of the household being ob- served with a scrupulous regidarity, I did not ex- actly see on what pretext I could issue forth at the time ; and I was puzzling myself what apology to invent for my absence for an hour or so, when cir- cumstances favoured my wshes. The parlour bell again rang a little after mid-day; and Mr. Tiverton, who in the meantime had come home from his walk, gave me a letter to take to that very same house whither I was bound on the day of the memorable adventure with the savage bull. I lost no time in setting out, purposing to deliver the letter off-hand, and thus meet Lady Calanthe on my retui-n. As the bull was still in the field, I was not foolhardy enough to pass through it : but the turn I had to make was so insignificantly cir- cuitous, that it did not delay my progress for many minutes. It was with a beating heart that, on my return, I approached the stile. The young lady was not as yet there: but I beheld her approaching from a little distance — and she was coming alone. I felt the colour mautlincr in crim- son to my cheeks at one moment — vanishing from them rapidly the next. I was again all confusion and bewilderment : I had a sense of moral weak- ness and of a failing purpose, which made mo ashamed of myself ; — but I did my best to summon my courage to my aid. There was a moment, diuring this sort of struggle which was taking place within me, when I asked myself whether I really did entertain any feeling of tenderness towards Lady Calanthe ? and whether circum- stances had somewhat cooled down the ardour of that youthful enthusiasm with which I had been wont to cherish the image of Annabel ? But no : the mere fact of asking myself this question, brought up a gush of indescribable emotions into my very throat; and I could not doubt the un- diminished intensity of my love for Annabel, when I found myself strong in the conviction that if she would only turn away from a career of error, I could forget and forgive all the past — so deeply enamoiu-ed was I of that being of seraphic beauty ! But at the same instant another thought darted into my mind. In a few months more it would be Midsimimer again : the year would terminate, from that memorable eve on which the adventure of the churchyard at Charlton had occurred : — was it only fancy on my part ? or was it a preter- natural test which would indeed prove fatallj- accurate in its fulfilment ? The idea that it might be so, brought tears to the very brims of my eyes : but by a strong effort I kept them back ; for at this instant Lady Calanthe Dundas came up to the place of appoLatmcnt, She approached with a becoming air of bashful modesty, mingled with that tender confidence which is the accompaniment of love where it is be- lieved that the sentiment is reciprocated. There was also some degree of sorrow and excitement indefijiably blended in her looks ; and as she took my hand in both her ovm, they trembled violently. The deepest blush sidfused her cheeks : the liquid warmth of tenderness, mingled with the glitter of uneasiness, was in her large dark eyes, as she bent them upon me. Then she looked hastily around ; — and, satisfied that no observers were near, she became calmer. " Joseph — dear Joseph," she said, " I have re- ceived letters urging my return home ; and I cannot postpone my departiu-e beyond to-morrow. It was so necessary that I should see you — so necessary that we should arrange plans for the future ! Ah, dearest Joseph, you know not how I love you ! But pray, pray do not think that I am bold — that I am deficient in becoming de- licacy — when I teU you this ! It is impossible you can remain in your present position : some- thing must be done for you " "Ah!" I ejaculated at this moment, as my looks, sweeping in wildered confusion around, caught ft glimpse of some one in the distance, be- tween the spot where we were standing and Myrtle Lodge. Lady Calanthe glanced towards the same point : and then, quick cs thought, she exclaimed, '" AVq must separate for the moment, Joseph ! I will traverse the field and reach that old ruined wall. You pass round by the other direction. Wo shall be enabled to converse there with less fear of ob-. servation." With, these \yords she sped away towards thq JOSEPH WILMOT ; OB, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAX-SEEVANT. 12 point she had indicated ; and I, by a somewhat longer circuit, joined her there in the course of a few minutes. But while proceeding thither, I noticed that the person whom I had seen at a dis- tance — and who, I should observe, was a female — was now no longer visible. There were several diverging paths iu all this neighbourhood, — some running behind hedges : and though it was the winter season and these hedges were stripped of their foliage, yet were they high and thick enough to conceal persons from each other's view. It was, as above stated, at a portion of an old wall, — the only remnant of a cottage which had been burnt down, — that our second meeting on the present occasion took place. I now observed that Lady Calanthe was more nervous and excited than even she had been at first : doubtless, in her state of mind, that temporary alarm had stricken forcibly uj)on chords which were already vibrating powerfully in her heart. " We ouglit to have met here at first, Joseph," she said, evidently striving to conquer her agita- tion : " but I did not think of it. What was I saying when we separated ? Oh, that j'ou must indeed permit something to be done for you ! Alas, would that I myself were rich, Joseph : you know not the amount of delight with which I should look forward to the time when j'ou might become the sharer of my wealth ! But unfortu- nately I am altogether dependent on my father Oh ! when I think of all the difliculties which lie in our way, I am half distracted. But let us hope ! Never can my heart be given to another. Tell me, dearest Joseph, that you yourself wiU remain faithful to me, and that you will trust to the advent of better times ?" The young lady was now weeping copiously and sobbing passionately. Her affliction filled me with the profoimdest sorrow : I could not bear to see one so kind, so amiable, so beautiful, thus cruelly tortured on account of the very love which she had conceived for me. I endeavo'ored to speak : I know not however what I was about to say; — but the power of utterance was choked by my feelings : — and Calanthe, perceiviag even through the dimness of her own tears, how much I was afi"ected, naturally regarded it as another proof of a reciprocating love on my part. " Oh, Joseph !" she murmured, in a voice broken with sobs, as she again pressed my hands in her own, " why is it that I have been born in a sphere which has become the cause of my unhappiness ? Would to heaven that I were a poor humble girl But this is an unpardonable weakness on my part : and I who ere now bade you hope, am say- ing and doing everything to make you dispirited and desponding ! 3Iy father is a proud and haughty man : or else would I hasten to throw myself at his feet, and implore that you, as the saviour of my life, may be acknowledged as the worthiest object of my heart's grateful and cn- thusiatic love. But it is impossible ! it is impos- sible !" " Impossible indeed !" cried a well-known voice at this juncture: and as a shriek burst from Lady Calanthe's lips — I myself staggering back in utter consternation — Lady Georgiana Tiverton stepped from behind the wall, where she had been con- cealed. Her countenance was literally distorted with rage : she, who was wont to be so prim and so demure, seemed animated with the fury of a fiend : her eyes, naturally of glossy dulness, lite- rally flashed forth fire : her lean gaunt framo quivered visibly from head to foot. The terror into ivhich Lady Calanthe Dundas was for an instant thrown, and which had caused that shriek to burst from her lips, was singularly eva- nescent. It lasted but for a moment ; and re- covering her presence of mind, — catching up, as it were, iu the twinkling of an eye the armour of a naturally strong soul's fortitude, — she assumed a dignified aspect, though not one of bold hardihood or unmaidenly defiance, as she said, " Sister, you now know my secret. But think not that for a single instant do I blush to repeat in your pre- sence the assurance of undying love and imperish- able constancy towards the saviour of my life." Thus spoke that truly noble creature ; and for the moment all my other feelings and emotions were absorbed in admiration of that young pa- trician damsel of only eighteen, who thus made a merit of the pure and holy afiection with which she had been inspired for one who was so im- measurably beneath her. Lady Georgiana Tiver- ton was seized with astonishment : she stepped back a pace or two, gazing upon her youthful half-sister with the air of one who could scarcely believe her own eyes or her own ears. " Yes," continued Calanthe, hastening to take advantage of the pause thus occasioned by Lady Georgiana's dismayed wonderment, " I fear not, and I blush not, to proclaim that I love Joseph Wilmot — and that I have told him so ! Young as I am, I am no silly romantic girl who would all in a moment rash into marriage : because it would only be to steep in poverty the object of my afiec- tion. But this I do hope — that as I shall remain constant to him, and I have the fullest certainty he will continue equally faithful to me, the time will come, a few years hence, when our happiness will be ensured." I knew that all this was said as much for me as for Lady Georgiana herself ; and that these avowals and assurances were thus thrown out in the gush- ing enthusiasm of Calanthe's noble and afiectionate heart, under the conviction that we shoidd not again very soon find an opportimity of being alone together. I was amazed and bewildered, — amazed at her fortitude, bewUdorcd by the excitement of the scene— and lost too in admiration of a charac- ter which, in its magnanimity, formed so remark- able an exception to the worldly-minded pride and utter selfishness of the aristocracy generally. As for Lady Georgiana, she made a vehement gesture as if to command silence on the part of Calanthe, so that she herself might speak; but it was only too evident that rage still choked her utterance. " One word more !" continued the young damsel. " I do not ask you, sister, not to write to our , father and tell him all that has occurred ; because I know that you will ! You will consider it your duty; and perhaps, as the world goes, you are right. Well then, I shall return home prepared to encounter my sire's anger and my mother's re- proaches,- — prepared also to endure the scorn, tho taunts, and the contempt of my brothers and sis- ters. But amidst all these, there will be one con- solation—which is, that it is beyond the power of even the sternest parental authority to pluck out from my heart tho love which it cherishes, or to 12(5 JOSEPH WILMOT ; OB, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SEBTANT. forbid me from hoping. Now, sister, you under- stand my feelings. The only favour I do entreat is that you will not visit your own anger, nor call down tiiat of your husband, on Joseph's head. Eemember, he saved our lives ^Yos, lie, a mere youth, dared do what a strong man candidly con- fessed ho should not have ventured to imdertake. And moreover, I call heaven to witness that it was I who first made avowals to Joseph — and that never of his own accord would he have approached me in that sense !" " Calanthe," said Lady Georgiaua, now recover- ing sufficient control over her feelings as to speak with a certain degree of calmness, " whatever re- monstrances or representations I may have to make, shall be spoken elsewhere." " That is as I could wish, sister," responded Calanthe. " And another thing," added Lady Georgiana, " it will be Joseph's own fault if what has now taken place, becomes the subject of gossiping scandal at the Lodge." " Joseph is incapable of mentioning my name lightly !" exclaimed Lady Calanthe, who appeared triumphantly elate at being thus enabled to act as my vindicator. " We must part now," she added, bending her looks upon me, — those looks which suddenly melted into touching and tender sweetness : and as I turned rapidly away, she ap- peared to shed upon me the dimness of a parting smile. I retraced my steps to Myrtle Lodge in a state of mind which is scarcely within the power of de- scription. I thought not of what might happen to myself. That I should probably be discharged summarily, and perhaps characterless, entered not at the moment into my meditations — or if it did, lingered not there. AR my ideas were absorbed in feelings of mingled admiration and compassion for that noble-hearted and magnanimous young lady, who had so suddenly emerged from the feminine weakness of desponding love, into a true womanly fortitude in the moment of emergency. But what had I heard? — that for my sake she woidd now have to endure the anger of parents— the taunts and scorn of brothers and sisters, — and that all these she would encounter if not cheerfully, at least resignedly — still cherishing love, and still clinging to hope. Ah ! and now the opportunity for disabusing her of her error was past: the wished-for occasion had gone by for revealing to her the truth that my heart was another's ; — and she, vmhappy girl, believed that it was her own ! Ob, what was I to do ? Could I write to her, and thus by a single stroke of the pen destroy her only source of consolation ? could I all in a moment rob her of the only means which she had to strengthen and solace herself when about to enter on the ordeal of parental indignation and fraternal contumely ? No, no — it was impossible ! — it would be a cruelty which, even if necessary, I had not the moral courage to perpetrate. I entered the Lodge ; and fortunately found no one at the moment in the servants' room, — where my dinner, consisting of cold meat, had been left out for me. I had no appetite to touch a morsel : but I was glad at being thus left to myself, inas- much as I had leisure to compose my feelings — or at least to study how to cast a veil over them, by the time I again met Charlotte and my fellow- servants. I bustled, with more than my wonted activity, about the work which I had to do, so as to avoid conversation : but all the while I was in a state of nervous excitement, which I felt that the most trivial incident would inevitably betray. An hour elapsed ere Lady Georgiana and Calanthe retm-ned to the Lodge ; so that I supposed they had a lengthonod — perhaps serious, perhaps stormy discourse together, after I left them. That the female figiu-e we had seen in the distance, when we were standing at the stile, was Lady Georgian* Tiverton, there could now be little doubt : that she perhaps had some reason, either of curiosity or suspicion, to follow Calanthe, who had devised a pretext for going out alone, was likewise easy to be conjectured ; — and that the cunning woman had watched from some secluded spot, while Calanthe proceeded in one direction and I in another after we parted at tho stUe, was but an additional link in this natural chain of sm-mises. Moreover, the topographical features of the neighbourhood enabled Lady Georgiana to steal behind that wall where our second meeting was held — and thus to listen to at least some portion, if she were not in time to catch the whole of the grief-broken speeches in which Calanthe had addressed me. They returned, I say, to the Lodge ; and while Lady Calanthe ascended to her own chamber, Lady Georgiana rejoined Mr. Tiverton in the parlour. About half-an-hour afterwards, the bell rang. I got for tho moment purposely out of the wayj and so John Robert answered the summons. When I returned to the pantry, where I was oc- cupied, a few minutes afterwards, John Robert told me that I was wanted in the parlour : but he did not make the annoimcemcnt as if he had an idea that anything extraordinary had occurred, or that there was anything wrong. I must confess that I now felt rather nervous as I ascended to the parlour : I expected to bo overwhelmed with re- proaches for what might be considered my pre- sumption and arrogance in aspiring to the hand of Lady Calanthe ; and I vtished that I could arm myself with some of that young lady's fortitude : — but this in the same degree I could not muster to my aid. As I opened the door, I perceived Mr. Tiverton standing, with his hands in his pockets, before the fire — while Lady Georgiana was seated — prim, cold, and demure, as was her wont — at the table. " Joseph," said my master, in a voice that was glacial and severe, " sudden business calls me to Exeter ; and you must accompany me. I have some errands for you to do there. Get yourself in immediate readiness." lie said no more : Lady Georgiana spoke not a word. I hastened up to my chamber, and put on my best livery. "What could be my master's in- tention ? — was he adopting this means of quietly removing me from the Lodge P I felt assured that such was the case ; and with this anticipation, I lingered a few minutes to put all my things into my box, so that it should be in readiness to be sent after me. As I descended the stairs, my heart palpitated violently : for methought that Lady Calanthe might possibly be on the watch to catch sight of me, and that she would issue forth from her chamber. Nor was I mistaken. The door opened : and she abruptly made her ai")pearance. Her JOSEPH WILMOT; OB, THE MEilOIES 05 A MAX-SERVANT. 127 countenance was pale — but wore an air of mingled decision, sorrow, and love. " Write to me at the post-office, Enfield!" she hastily whispered, a3 she threw her arms round my neck and strained me in her embrace. The next instant she tore herself away — re-entered the room — and closed the door. All this took place in far less time than it has occupied to record : and though I was in a measure prepared for the incident, — yet when it did occur, I was too much confused to give utterance to a syllable. I hurried down stairs with the sensation of her last fond kiss stUl upon my cheek, and a strange excitement in the heart. Again I felt I had been traitorous to the sentiment which I chose to cherish for Annabel : again I accused myself of moral weakness ; — but what was to be done P It was too late to remedy the j)ast ; and thus had I allowed incident to accumulate upon incident, all tending to conOrm in the mind of Calanthe the idea that my heart was devoted to her. I entered the parlom"; and Mr. Tiverton at once bade me follow him. llis wife said not a word : nor from the countenance of either, could I glean aught to c. infirm or refute my suspicion, that I was now leaving Myrtle Lodge, to retm-n no more. My master passed out by the front door, I fol- lowing him. I had it upon the tip of my tongue to say that as I presvmied I was about to depart for good, I hoped he would permit me to take leave of my fellow-servants and of Charlotte JIuiTay : but as ho glanced back towards me, to see if I were behind, there was something so stern nud severe in his look, that I dared not proiTer the request. "We passed on into the main road ; and just as we entei-ed it, a return post-chaise hap- pened to be proceeding along in the direction of Exeter. He stopped it : a bargain was made with the post-boy : I ascended to the dickey — Mr. Tiverton entered the vehicle — and we proceeded to the city. On arrivuig there, Mr. Tiverton con- ducted me to a tavern which was connected with a coach-office; and obtaining a private room, he now began to reveal his intentions. " I am not going, Joseph," he said, speaking with the same glacial severity as before, " to deal in reproaclies or upbraidings. Your own good sense must tell you how impossible it is that certain hopes which have been entertained, can ever bo realized ; and you must also comprehend liow equally impossible it is that you can remain another hour in my service. No doubt you sus- pected the object for which you were brought hither ?" "I did, sir," was my answer: but I did not choose to tell him that the certain hopes to which he had so unmistakably alluded, were never enter- tained by me. I was resolved that not from such I lips as his shoidd Lady Calanthe receive a reve- lation which was to clear up the fatal error into which my moral weakness had lulled her. No : for I knew where I could ^vrite to her ; and it was now my purpose to communicate fully with her upon that subject, so soon as I might fancy she had returned to Mandeville Hall. "Yes — you could not have done otherwise," resumed Mr. Tiverton, "than suspect for what purpose you were so summarily taken away from the Lodge. I do not appeal to you, Joseph, to abandon those hopes to which I have alluded j because if in boyish vanity or love- sick infatuation, you should make any endeavour to see Ladj- Calanthe Dundas, or communicate with her, be- neath her father's roof, to which she ^vill to- morrow return, — his lordship will know how to frustrate your views, and perhaps punish their insolence. It may be that in dealing somewhat leniently with you, I take into consideration cer- tain circumstances which give you a sort of claim upon my consideration. I have therefore drawn up a written character which may serve you ; and you are at Uberty to refer any gentleman or lady to me for farther information. But I must insist that you take yom* departure from this neighbour- hood; and above aU things, that on no pretence do you come to Myrtle Lodge again. I will not do you the injustice to say that I think you would volunteer explanations in which the name of Lady Calanthe Dundas might bo disagreeably men- tioned " "No, sir," I interjected: "I am incapable of it ! Of this, rest assured." " Well," continued Mr. Tiverton, the least thing less cold^ than before, " I had this good opinion of you. But inasmuch as the servants might naturally question you as to the cause of your abrupt departure, it is necessary that you should avoid the pain and confusion of refusing explana- tions. Therefore you will return to the Lodge no more. I -vdW take care to say sometliing which shall prevent your late fellow-domestics from sup- posing that you committed anything derogatory to your character. Your bos shall be sent in the course of the evening — indeed, the moment I get back. It is my intention to pay your coach-fare to whatsoever j)lace you may choose to go : you will likewise receive the wages that are due to you, with an additional month's salary on account of this abrupt dismissal. Now, where do you choose to proceed ? to what place will you be booked by any one of the night-coaches P" " I care not, sir — it is indifferent to me," was my answer. " I have no friends anywliere " And then I stopped short : for the idea of my utter friendlessness sent the emotions swelling up into my throat. " Well, leave it to me, Joseph," said Mr. Tiver- ton. "I will take your place for some distant towa.." " I do not wish, sir," I observed, as a sudden thought struck me, " to go back to Loudon. I — I dislike London." '■■ Very well : it shall not bo London, then. Here is the money due to you: here is your written character. The coach by which you will leave, departs at nine o'clock : the office is next door : your box shall be sent thither. And now good bye, Joseph : I wish you well." Mr. Tiverton thereupon took his departure ; and I remained for some minutes in the room at the tavern, pondering upon all that had occurred on this memorable day. I was imhappy for many reasons, — on Calanthe's account — at my own utter friendlessness — and at my moral weakness in not having spoken out candidly to the yoxmg lady. But still I was not completely dispirited nor down- hearted : I haxl plenty of ready money, and two good written characters — one from Lord Kavens- hill's late steward, the other from Mr. Tiverton. It was now about five o'clock in the evening : 12S JOSEPH WILMOT; OB, THE MEMOIES OF A MIV-SKEVAXT, the dusk had long since set in ; and I felt no in- clination to go rambling about the streets of Esetor. I Lad partaken of no refreshment since the morning) and therefore went down stairs to obtain some tea in the servants' room at the tavern, as I did not like to remain in the private apartment. I was told that as the apartment had been paid for, I might use it— and that Mr. Tiver- ton had likovrise settled for my tea and supper before he took bis departure. I have no doubt that all this generosity of paying for my meals and my coach-fare was a mere matter of calcula- tion on his part, in order to render my summary dismissal as little painful as passible, and to pro- pitiate me into keeping silence relative to Lady Calanthe. As if such base and sordid means were necessary ! and as if no credit could be given me for loftier and nobler sentiments ! When I had taken my tea in the private apart- ment, I descended to the coach-otEce to make cer- tain inquiries ; and found that my place had been booked as an inside passenger for Salisbury, which is about ninety-two miles from Exeter. An inside place ! Here was another proof of ilr. ^verton's anxiety to disarm me of any resentment, if I were capable of such a paltry feeling under such cir- cumstances. It was evident that he was terribly alarmed lest the honour of the family to which by marriage he had become allied, should suffer through any spitefulness or vindictive malevolence on my part. In the course of the evening my bos was brought down in a cart : and apparelling myself in my plain clothes, I made a parcel of my livery and took it to a neighbouring tavern, whence the carrier's van which passed near ^Myrtle Lodge, started daily. Nothing had been said to me by Mr. Tiverton about returning the livery ; but as a matter of course I felt it to be my duty to do so. At nine o'clock I took my place in the coach, which set out upon its journey. CHAPTEIl XXVIII, MY XCXT PLACE. The coach was full inside, there being throe pas- sengers beside myself. Two consisted of a trades- man and his wife belonging to Salisbury, and who, as I presently learnt from their conversation, had been on a visit to some friends at Exeter. The third was a gentleman whom I must more par- ticularly describe. He was what may be termed a comfortable-looking person— about fifty years of age — with a red face — and a large double chin overlapping a very low white cravat. When he opened his great coat to consult his watch, as the coach drew up at the various inns where it changed horses, and as the light of these establishments streamed in at the window, — I observed that he was dressed in black, and altogether had a clerical, or at least a professional appearance. He might be a parson — he might be a barrister — or he might be a doctor : but, as for a long time after the coach had started, he said not a word — ^but dozed in the corner, waking up only as the vehicle stopped — I gleaned not immediately which of these three he might be, or whether either of them at all. His watch was a very handsome one, — with a massive gold chain, and several large seals ho wore it in hia fob, and not in his waistcoat pocket. He had small twinkling eyes of greenish gray — a certain calm, solf-satisfied, and placid manner — and a patronising blandness of look, as he surveyed his fellow-passengers. The tradesman and his wife got talking to mo almost immediately after the coach started : but they were too garrulous in respect to themselves, to show much curiosity as questioners. They were both very stout — and were completely jammed in, as it were, on the narrow seat as they sat side by side. Presently the \dfc dozed off to sleep — then the husband : and silence prevailed. I could not sleep so easily : my mind was active with various conflicting thoughts ; and just as I was beginning to feel a drowsiness stealing over me, at about midnight, the coach stopped at the place where the passengers were to sup. We of the inside all got out for the purpose ; for the keenness of the night air in the month of February, was sufficient to provoke an appetite, even in spite of disagreeable reflections : — and three or four of the outside pas- sengers likewise sat down to the meal. Now was it that the gentleman in black, with the handsome gold watch, suffered his tongue to be unlocked ; and he spoke in a tone of blandness fully corre- sponding with his manner. He observed that the night was very cold — gently and deprecatingly counselled the tradesman not to eat meat-pie, as it would produce dyspepsia — recommended the tradesman's wife to take a very little brandy and water, instead of malt liquor, which was bad for persons of a full habit of body — intimated to a young gentleman opposite, an outside passenger, that the roast-beef would do him more good than the boiled — and found time to expatiate upon the digestible qualities of cold roast fowl. From all this I argued that one of my hj^potheses was cor- rect, and that the comfortable-looking gentleman, with his suavity of manner — with his bland address, as well as his universal courtesy — must be a doctor. When we had all taken om* places again, this gen- tleman appeared less inclined to doze than he had hitherto done : but as the tradesman and his -wife were more sleepy than over after suppei', he directed his conversation to me. '•'And pray, my lad," he asked, in the most dul- cet tone, '• where may you be going ?" '• To Salisbury," was my response. '•'Very good. So am I. I live there. Do you ?" " No, sir. I know nothing of the place." " Any friends living there .'" was his next ques- tion — but uttered in such a manner as if he would not for the world appear guilty of impertinent curiosity. '• I have no friends there, sir," I replied, choos- ing to be somewhat communicative, as the idea had entered my head that very possibly my fellow- traveller might be enabled to help me to a situation. " I am going to Salisbury in the hope of getting a place as a domestic servant." '• A domestic servant ?" he said, slowly repeat- ing my words, as if he fancied that he had not rightly xmderstood them. " Yes, sir : in that capacity." '•■ And have you ever been in service before ?" '• Yes— at Lord Eavenshill's, and at Mr. Tiver- ton's of Myrtle Lodge." JOSEPH WILSf OT ; OB, TfiE MEMOEBS OT A MAIf-SEIlVANT. 129 " Very good," lie observed. " Of course every one has hoard of Lord llavenshill ; and 1 liare no doubt that the other family you have named, must be a good one, though I have not the honour of their acquaintance. So you have had excellent places, my lad," he added, with a patronizing kind of half subdued laugh, " that you are enabled to travel as an inside passenger ? But why go so far as iSaUsbury to look for a situation ?" '•' It is my wish, sir," was my rejoinder : for I knew not what other answer to give. •■' Good — very good. But about your character?" continued the gentleman. " I have written testimonials, sir, about me ; and Mr. Tiverton wiU answer by letter any application made to him on my behalf." " Very good — vffry good," said the gentleman : and then he repeated the words in a murmuring and musing tone. '"'As a page I presume you have served?" — and when I answered in the 17 affirmative, he added, '■ Very good ! "Well, it is strange — very strange ! But I suppose you have had the measles, hooping-cough, and all those kind of things — and you have been vaccinated ?" I again answered satisfactorily : for the gentle- man — who, I was now more convinced than ever, must bo a doctor — repeated the words, " Very good," two or three times in the same musing way as before. Silence followed : he dozed off to sleep — and so did I. Xo farther conversation of any consaquence took place until the coach was enter- ing the city of Salisbury at about eight o'clock in the morning ; and then the gentleman said to me, in a blandly whispering tone, " Just permit me, my lad, to sec those little testimonials to which you alluded when we were talking during the night." As I produced them, he put on a pau- of gold spectacles— read them both very deliberately — and returning them to me said, in that same musing 130 JOSEPH WILMOT; OB, THE MEMOIES OF A MAN-SERVANT. manner as before, " G-ood — very good :" so that I really did entertain the hope of having somewhat interested the gentleman on my behalf. Nor was I mistaken : for when the coach di-ove into the yard of the hotel which was its destination, he said to me, as he alighted first, " Don't go away for a minute, my lad. See to your luggage, while I look after mine ; and keep in the way, as I want another word with you." I thanked him, and obeyed his directions. The guard cried out the names of the passengers as he handed down the trunks, inspecting at the same time the card upon each ; and when he called, " Dr. Pomfret !" the comfortable-looking gentle- man signalized himself as that individual. '■' G-ood — very good," he observed as he saw liis luggage safe. " And now, my lad," he resumed, turning again to me, "I suppose you have no par- ticular place where you wish to go— and that if you were to obtain a situation at once, you ore prepared to enter upon it ?" I assured Dr. Pomfret that such was my earnest wish : whereupon he exclaimed, '' Good — very good ! Step aside for a moment ; and possibly we may come to an arrangement :" — an announce- ment at which I felt considerably cheered. " The fact is," he continued, " I want just such a lad as you are. It's strange — very strange — is it not ? But so it is. Wages liberal— two suits of livery a year — plenty to eat and drink — and not much work to do. I am a physician 1 may say," he added, with an increased self-complacency very much akin to arrant conceit, " I am the physician of Salisbury; and the principal duty you will have to perform, is attending the front door to usher in the patients and going out with the carriage." I expressed not merely my willingness to accept the situation, but also my gratitude for the proffer ; and the wages he named being really very liberal, the bargain was at once struck. He accordingly bade me follow him ; and when he had given in- structions to the hotel-porter that my box was to be brought along to his house, together with his own, he led the way through several streets, until he at length stopped at a dwelling of handsome appearance in one of the principal thoroughfares. As we stood for a few moments at the front door, until the summons was answered by a man in a groom's undress, I noticed that there was a large apothecary's shop precisely opposite, with a lamp of coloured glass over the doorj and upon this lamp, in gold letters, were the words—" Me. Saw- Kixs, Surgeon." Dr. Pomfret, seeing my eyes settle upon this establishment, as I was gazing about as one does in a strange place, said, '' G-ood — very good ! You are looking at Mr. Sawkins's ? A very clever man is Sawkins — a good surgeon — a good apothecary — a good accoucheur. Avery nice man is Sawkins !" — then fixing his eyes upon me with a look of mys- terious confidence, he added in a lower tone, " I discovered his talent — and I made him what he is." I thought it a proof of very intelligent shrewd- ness on the part of Dr. Pomfret thus to discover talent — and a proof of proportionate generosity to patronise it : and no doubt my looks expressed these sentiments ; for the physician stroked his chin in a complacent and satisfied manner. We now entered the house ; and the doctor said, "Well, Philip — all well at homo ? How are vour mistress and the horse ?" " Both uncommon -well, sir," was the groom's reply: but I certainly thought it a somewhat strange economy of words to couple the lady and the horse in the same sentence, as if to avoid the supererogation of a separate query for each. " Good — very good," s.aid Dr. Pomfret, as he hung his hat up in the hall. " And now, Philip, show this lad the way to the kitchen ; he is in my service, and answers to the name of Joseph." Philip stared first at me — then at his master — as if he thought there must be some mistake; and as he afterwards informed me — thougli per- haps it may savour of vanity on my part to repeat the compliment — he fancied I was a young gentle- man, and much too genteel to enter into service. Dr. Pomfret saw what was passing in his mind ; and smiling placidly, observed, "I think he will be no discredit to my establishment." On being introduced to the kitchen, I found a very comfortable breakfast spread upon the table, and a very comfortable-looking cook doing the honours. An exceedingly stout man — nearly sixty — and looking so apoplectic that it was fortimate for him he was in a doctor's service, and therefore could have prompt assistance in case of a sudden visitation of the kind — was doing ample j ustice to the cold meat ; and as, I subsequently understood, he never drank "slops," ho was washing it down with ale. This was the coachman. The groom, who bore the name of Philip, was a short, thin, dapper-made man ; and the only fault I could find with him was, that he smelt uncommonly of the stables. A housemaid and two parlour-maids completed the domestic establishment. I wondered that there should be two parlour-maids — still more so when I subsequently heard that one was de- nominated the Family Parlour-maid, and the other the Private Parlour-maid : but the distinctions, and the separate services which they had to render, I learnt in due time, as will be hereafter explained. The domestics were all very kind and friendly in their manner towards me, — the old coachman especially giving it as his opinion, in a very husky voice, " that I was an uncommon likely lad to sit by liis side on the box." Immediately after breakfast I was sent for into the parlour, to be measured for my liveries ; and this time there was no trying on of old ones — no endeavour to convert impossibly-fitting garments into fresh use. The doctor had never before kept a page : the coachman had been wont to act also as footman and attend the front door; — but ho was getting too corpulent for such a purpose — the physician's practice was rapidly extending — and therefore it appeared that he had resolved to in- crease his domestic establishment by the addition of a page. I may here observe that Mrs. Pomfret was by no means in appearance such a lady as I had expected to see. I had pictured to myself a stout matronly dame, as comfortable-looking as her husband : but my ideal portraiture was wrong. She was slender, without however being of the emaciated leanness of Lady Georgiana Tiverton — quiet in her manners — speaking in a softly subdued voice, as if much accustomed to attend upon the sick-room — walking with that lightness of tread which has almost the stealthiness of the cat — taking care never to open nor shut doors violently — but mov- JOSEPH WILMOT ; OB, THE MEM0IE3 OF A MAN-SEETANT. 131 ing about the house as noiselessly as a ghost. She was a few years younger than her husband — sufficiently good looking — but yet methought with a certain sinister inysteriousness of expression of countenance — as if harbouring secrets and always watchful not to be surprised into a betrayal of them. She had however a great deal of that suavity of manner and blandness of speech which characterized the doctor ; and, as I soon found, she was by no means a bad mistress towards her servants. The duties I had to perform in my new place, were pretty well as Dr. Pomfret had described them — answering the front door and going out with the carriage. The routine of each day may be thus described : — At eight o'clock in the morn- ing Dr. Pomfret came down in a very handsome flowered silk dressing-gown, and received the poor patients : namely, those who came to consult him gratuitously. These were admitted into the hall, where as many as could find seats took possession ot them, while the others stood. One after another were they hurried into the physician's presence ; and I soon perceived that he knocked them oif with as much rapidity as possible. This generally lasted till nine — when the breakfast was served in the parlour; and my positive instructions were that if any " poor person" came even a moment after the clock in the hall had proclaimed the hour of nine, no admittance was to be given. After breakfast the doctor ascended to his dressing-room, and apparelled himself with the utmost nicety and neatness to receive his paying patients. These were admitted into the various parlours on the ground-floor, — Dr. Pomfret's reception-room be- ing at the back of the premises, and approached by a long passage leading out of the hall. Ladies were shown into one parlour — gentlemen into an- other — and a third apartment was kept exclusively for those who arrived in carriages, — this being far more sumptuously furnished than the others, though the entire dwelling was well appointed throughout. The visits of the paying patients ranged over three hours : namely, froiU ten till one. At one Dr. and Mrs. Pomfret lunched ; and ditmer was served in the kitchen. At two the car- riage came round to the door : it was one of the old fashioned doctor's-chaises, drawn by one horse, having a box seat, but no rumble behind : and thus my place was next to the coachman. "When once he was on the box, he seemed to be nailed there, — my duty being to jump down at every place where we stopped — give an immense long knock and a loud ring at the front door (save in cases where the illness was severe) — then open the carriage- door and let the doctor out. The period for these calls generally extended from two till five : for at some houses the physician would remain chatting much longer than at others. When the rounds were over, Dr. Pomfret's day's laboiu's were finished : he sat down to an excellent dinner at sis o'clock — drank his couple of bottles of wine every night of his life— and would not be disturbed by anybody. No one could expatiate better on temperance in eating and drinking: but no one more enjoyed the pleasures of the table than Dr. Pomfret. Two or three days after I had entered my new situation, I availed myself of my leisure time in the evening to pen a letter to Lady Calanthe Dundas. But before I could draw up one which in any way pleased me — or rather, I should say, gave me satis- faction ; for a pleasure it assuredly was not — I spoilt half-a-dozen sheets, and had to begin over and over again. It was some time before I could even decide how to commence it — whether as " My lady," or " My dear lady," or " Dear Lady Calanthe Dun- das :" but I idtimately determined on this last- mentioned mode of address. I commenced by ex- pressing how deeply I was flattered by her esteem — how highly I prized her friendship— and how impos- sible it was for me ever to forget all the kind interest I had experienced at her hands. I then proceeded to explain that I myself had been ungrateful in one sense — namely, in the weakness of having hesitated to reveal the actual state of my feelings : but this self-reproach I qualified by reminding her that on each occasion when she had spoken to me, I was too much confused and bewildered to act as I ought to have done. I went on to explain that my heart had been for some time attached to an- other — whom however I did not name ; and I be- sought Lady Calanthe to forget that there was such a humble and obscure being as myself in existence. I expressed the deepest regret that I had not spoken out frankly on the fiirst day when she honoured me with a particular avowal; inas- much as such candour on my part would have no doubt prevented subsequent embarrassments and difiiculties. I said that I was only too well aware that for more reasons than one I merited her re- proaches, and must be regarded by her as the source of whatsoever troubles and annoyances she might have undergone, or be still undergoing, at the hands of her relatives. I concluded by be- seeching her forgiveness, and recording many earnest wishes — which were indeed most heartfelt — for her happiness ' and welfare. I gave the address at which I was living — as I did not consi- der it either handsome or necessary to practise any concealment or make any mystery in this re- spect; though I sincerely hoped that if Lady Calanthe did condescend to answer me, it would be in a style which, while pardoning me for my weakness and want of frankness, would show that she considered everything at an end between us. This letter I took the next morning to the post. Days passed — no response came : they grew into weeks — and stiU was my epistle unanswered. I could not help a feeling of annoyance at this silence. It now became quite clear that Lady Calanthe would not condescend to notice my letter. I felt that I deserved this treatment at her hands : but nevertheless I could not conquer that vexation. If she had really loved me as much as she said, surely she would have penned one single line ex- pressive of a wish for my welfare, even though she should in the same sentence have rebuked me for that moral weakness which I had at length so candidly avowed. Yet could I doubt that she had really loved me ? No: there was every evidence tha*; she had indeed loved me passionately — fondly — a the time. But now I depicted to myself that fine s{ . »t of her's, so full of fine feminine elasticity — so yielding to the softest feelings — so vigorous in its resistance of tyrannous coercion, — I depicted it, I say, haughtily hurt, yet dignified, and even seeking to be disdain- ful while smarting mth its wounds. But perhaps the letter never reached h r at all ? perhaps it had been intercepted ? I muf t confess that this was an idea to which I more or less clunc: : fi r thoucrh 132 JOSEPH -WILMOT ; OR, THE MEiroiM OV A MiK-SfeUVANr. I wished cvcrj'tliing- to bo at an end between Lady merriest peal of laughter — very likely at the ease Calanthe and myself, yet would I have been pleased i and success with whicli they carried on their with the receipt of a single line to show that she ] double-dealings. did not now hate me. I thought of writing to her again in the same sense as before: but I did not — for the reflection was naturally forced upon me, that if the fii-st letter had been intercepted, a se- cond would be sure to share the same fate. Mr. Sawkins wag a mean-looking man, of very slight figure, and much pitted with the small-pax. He vras bustling and active — excessively civil — and to the doctor humble and cringing. He readily endorsed every opinion which his patron chose to I must now proceed to give the reader a little put forth, and never ventured upon the slightest fiirther insight into Dr. Pomfret's real character — ' contradiction. Like Mrs. Pomfret, he also had at hismodeof conducting his business — and the nature times a certain stealthy manner of moving about, of one part of his establishment. Asa matter of and a hushed mysteriousness of voice : for if on some course the insight I thus obtained into those mat- occasions the merriest shouts of laughter pealed ters, was only gradually acquired, and not until I from the dining-room when he and the doctor had been some months in his service. That suavity | were in the middle of their second bottle, — on of manner and blandness of speech, were to a very | other occasions, when I entered for any purpose, great extent assumed. In some little degree they | I might find them conversing together in accents had become habitual to him : that is to say, so far ] subdued almost to a whisper. Mr. Sawkins was habitual that he never failed to adojjt them on ' about eight-and-thirty years of age — had been occasions where he thought it either necessary or i married some years — and had several children, expedient. This, too, was for the mcrt part the j He was considered to be a highly respectable man : case : inasmuch as even when not dealing with i that is to say, he paid his way with regularity, and patients, it was his study and interest to keep up ! never had a dun at his door : he contributed to a certain appearance and maintain a character for I charities, and was as regular in attendance at mildness and gentleness. But, in his heart he 1 church as his professional engagements woidd was a hypocrite and a tyrant ; and it was towards ' permit — or at least the w-orld thought so, which his pauper patients — those who visited him for I was precisely the same thing. But so was Dr. gratuitous consultation from eight to nine — that j Pomfret ; and on this point I have now a little he exhibited himself in his true colours, or at least I secret to tell. The very first Sunday that I was in with a very flimsy mask. To t'lem he was ever my new place, the old fat coachman, when taking hasty and impatient— sometimes abrupt and brutal. If a poor woman entered into a long tale relative to the ailments of her child, he would cut her short in a moment — tell her he knew very well what was the matter with the child and how to treat it — then, writing her a prescription, woidd fling it across his desk with not ha^lf so. much gentleness as one tosses a bone to a dog. He would only again put on an air of blandness when giving her a parting instruction in these terms: — '• Now, my good woman, you must get this pre- scription made up at once — and the sooner the better. It is all the same to me to what chemist or apothecary you go for the piu-pose. I have no interest in recommending any one in particular a glass of ale and a piece of bread and cheese by way of lunch at half-past eleven, looked up at the kitchen clock ; and in his hoarse asthmatic voice, exclaimed, '• Why, the Litany must have begun by this time, I declare ! Kun off to church, Joseph — ask the sexton to tell you which is master's pew — and whisper in the doctor's car that he is wanted directly." This instruction I accordingly obeyed, without troubling myself to reflect much upon the circumstance itself ; and on proceeding to the church and delivering my message. Dr. Pomfret rose with a certain air of mysterious importance ; and though apparently anxious to make his exit as gently as possible, so as not to disturb the con- gregation, he nevertheless seemed perfectly con- But if you do ask me, I can scarcely hesitate to say I scious that every one was looking at him. On that Mr. Sawkins opposite dispenses the best drugs the following Sunday I was despatched to the and is the safest apothecary in all Salisbury. He never gives oxalic acid for Epsom salts, as I am sorry to say is too often the case with other dis- pensers. However, you can do as you Uke : but for my part I think that you will find Sawkins the cheapest as well as the best." This sort of recommendation — altered, as a matter of course, according to circumstances — in- variably closed Dr. Pomfret's advice to all patients, whether non-paj-ing or feeing ones ; and when I inform the reader that IMr. Sawkins regularly divided his profits with my master, it wOl be seen that the latter had very good reason indeed for the recommendation thus given. But if Dr. Pomfret met Mr. Sawkins in the street, they never stood talking together — they passed with a mere exchange of bows : they carefully avoided the pos- sibility of being thought too intimate. Of an evening, however, when it was dusk, Mr. Sawkins would enter the doctor's house by the back-way ; and joining hjm in the dining-room, would help him to discuss an extra bottle of wine, — on which church with a similar message, just as the Com- mandments were beginning — the Sunday after at the commencement of the sermon. On the Sun- day next ensuing, Dr. Pouifret stayed away from church altogether, and amused himself with a novel in the parlour : but as if to make amends, he remained throughout the service on the Sunday which came next. Afterwards, for the three or four ensuing Sabbaths, I had to fetch him out as before, though at diflferent periods of the service ; and therefore, by the skilfulness of these arrange- ments, he avoided the suspicion that it was all a preconcerted scheme. Such was the way in which my master fulfilled his religious duties : and very likely Mr. Sawkins adopted a similar policy. The old coachman had been for a great number of years in the physician's service ; and though tolerably well attached to his master, yet there were times when having taken an extra glass of ale, or perhaps a tumbler of brandy-and-watcr in the evening, he would chat familiarly enough upon the physician's proceedings. Not that he did this occasions I frequently heard them enjoying the i in a spkit of reprehension — but as if he considered JOSrpJI WII.JtOT; OV., THE MEMOIRS OT A MA>''-SEEVANT. 133 Dr. Pomfret's tortuous pursuits and artilicc:? a subject for a capital joke. So true it is that the example of masters aud mistresses too often tends to destroy proper feelings, and indeed absolutely demoralize their servants, both male and female. The coachman would tell us how Dr. Pomfret en- couraged hypochoucbiaes in their delusions rela- tive to their aUmcnts, and would write out lengthy prescriptions which were sent to Sawkins to be made up, and consisted of pills and potions that contained really no medicament at all. For not- withstanding the great ' caution adopted by the physician and the apothecary in all their proceed- ings, such little matters as these would occasion- ally ooze out, by a word incautiously dropped, or by the gossipping of Mr. Sawkins' assistants; and thus it was intelligible enough how a domestic who had been so long in Dr. Pomfret's service as the old coachman, should have gleaned several particulars of this kind. In short, I had not been many wrecks in my new place before I obtained a sufficient insight into my master's character to inspire me with very considerable disgust and contempt for him. He was however kind enough to us servants — and so was his wife : we lived well — our wages were not merely liberal, but were punctually paid : and therefore, whatsoever I might think of my master and mistress, I had no reason to complain on my own account. I now proceed to speak of another matter at which I have already lightly glanced: I mean the nature of one part of the doctor's establishment. The first and second floors were so arranged that each formed a complete suite of apartments, shut out by a door from the landing : that is to say, any one occupying, for instance, the apartments on the first floor, mighty joass from one room to an- other without being seen by persons going up and c'o-.vn the stairs. When tir.^t I was in my now place, I noticed lliat at about the same time the breakfast things were prepared for the parlour, another tray was got in readiness : and this was carried up-stairs by the female-servant who bore the denomination of the Private Parlour-maid. A separate dinner was likewise cooked, and borne up-stairs by her : a separate tea and supper in the same manner. There was a great deal of mystery observed in ail this ; aud whenever a particular bell rang from the up-stairs rooms, only the Priviite Parlour-maid answered it ; and if she did not happen to be in the kitchen at the time, it was not attended to by any other of the female servants — but she was hastily summoned, with the intimation, " Jane, i/our bell has rung." This Private Parlour-maid, I should add, was a some- ' what silent and reserved young woman ; and by her appearance as well as her manner, seemed dis- cretion personified. Sometimes, if I enteredthe kitchen suddenly, I did happen to catch her talk- ing in a low tone to the cook or one of the other females : but the moment I made my appearance they would glance at me — then exchange signifi- cant looks — and hold their peace. All these cir- cumstances naturally struck me as being singular ; and I do not hei^tate to confess that they excited my curiosity : but I asked no questions — and for many weeks remained in ignorance of what I really desired to know. That there was however some person in the house whom I had not as yet seen, was evident enough : but whether an invalid lodger, or whether a relation of the doctor or his wife, I could not possibly conjecture. The indi- vidual — whoever he or site might be — never came out of the rooms on the first floor, received no visitors, and appeared to be shrouded in complete mystery as well as buried in total seclusion. Xo — not total : for after a time I ascertained that Mrs. Pomfret was wont to pass several hours ■with that person each day. At length my fellow-servants, when they came to know me better, grew somewhat less reserved in respect to a matter which was evidently no secret to them. First they began to talk a trifle more openly in my presence : one word led on to an- other — so that in due coiurse the mystery became revealed to me. The plain fact was this : Dr. and Mrs. Pomfret received ladies who had very good reasons for retiring for a few weeks or months, as the case might be, from the society in which they habitually moved. Beneath that roof shame sought an asylum and frailty a hiding-place ; and those who, unwedded, were about to bear a mother's name, received every accommodation in return for a commensurate reward. The utmost privacy was thus secured to them : the good faith and honour of the doctor and his wife could be relied upon — the bribes they received, being no doubt sufficiently high to ensure such inviolable secrecy. I moreover learnt that there was at that present time a lady occupying the first-floor apart- ments. None of the servants except the Private Parlour-maid had ever seen her. She had come one night, deeply veiled as an additional precau- tion ; and having once crossed the threshold of the outer door of that particular suite of apartments, she had never as yefc re-crossed it. The Private Parlour-maid knew not her name : perhaps even the physician and his wife were equally ignorant of it. After a lapse of about two months she be- came a mother : a nurse, who was ready in attend- ance, departed at once with the new-born infant ; and about three weeks afterwards the lady herself wont away in the same mysterious manner in which she had come. I farther learnt that the accommodation thus furnished at Dr. Pomfret's house to ladies seeking temporary retirement, was a circumstance not generally known in the city of SaUsbury. There were of course whispers to that efi'ect in some quarters : but it was kept as quiet as possible, for fear lest, if universally known, it might injure the physician's regular practice. But from all I un- derstood, these private arrangements were even more lucrative than his more open professional pursuits : and if he had been compelled to aban- don either, it would have been the latter which he would have given up. I now began to comprehend how it was that Mrs. Pomfret had acquired that cat-like stealthincss of locomotion — that mysterious look — that habit of speaking in a low half-hushed voice, — in short, that air with which she impressed one of being much accustomed to attend upon the sick-room. And here, too, was another explana- tion of the intimacy of that connexion which sub- sisted between the doctor and Mr. Sawkins, the professional attentions of the latter as an ac- coucheur being frequently put into requisition at my master's house. Having now afforded the reader some greater insight than I was at first enabled to give, info 134 JOSEPH WirirOT; OB, THE MKMOIES OF A MAX-SEBVAUT. Dr. Pomfret's pursuits, and the nature of one part of his establishment, I mav resume the thread of my narrative. I had been nearly four mouths in my new place : and it was now the beginning of June. One evening, as I was sitting ia the kitchen, talking with the other servants, — IMr. Sawkins being with the physician in the dining- room, and Mrs. Pomfret out at an evening party, as she had then no lady in the house who wanted her society, — a loud and imperious knock, accom- panied by an equally peremptory ring, sounded through the dwelling. I hastened to answer the summons ; and by some accident the haU-lamp had not been lighted, although it -was past nine o'clock, and therefore dusk. 2fo street-lamp was near on the same side of the street : but at that season it is seldom so dark as to prevent persons observing each other with a tolerable degree of accuracy. Moreover Mr. Sawkins's brilliant-coloured lamp opposite threw its beams to the edge of the pave- ment at the doctor's front door ; — and there, on that pavement, stood an individual whom I at once recognised as Sir Malcolm "Wavenham. " Is Dr. Pomfret at home ?" he at once asked. "Yes, sir," was my response, tremblingly given : for I was stricken with astonishment on beholding that man there, — a man towards whom I had so many reasons for entertaining the strongest aver- sion. '•' Then say that a gentleman wishes to see him immediately," he hastened to observe. "It's of no use to give any name : my business is altoge- ther privat-e — and I must see the doctor alone." I did not ask him to walk in : I could not give utterance to another word : his presence there had so painfully conjured up every circumstance, thought, fear, and association, in respect to Anna- bel. I mechanically turned back into the hall, leaving the front door wide open : he followed me, no doubt taking it for granted that I meant him to do so ; and I threw open the door of a parlour, where lights were kept burning in case a visitor should arrive. He passed hastily in, with a cer- tain hurried excitement of manner ; and I closed the door behind him. He evidently had not re- cognised me : I felr assured he had not. Indeed, it was hardly to be expected that he could have done so : for as I stood in the hall, I was com- pletely in the shade — and moreover he knew so little of me. He had seen me but two or three times at Charlton Hall: — at the theatre, on the night that I beheld him with Violet Mortimer (as the radiant being was then called) he had not noticed vxe at all ; and on that other night, many months afterwards, when I had rushed up to his carriage as it had stopped at the wayside public - house near Exeter, he had no opportunity of catching more than the slightest glimpse of my features by the lamp-light. Thus, altogether, it was not strange that he did not know me : it would have been more remarkable if he had re- cognised me. A year and a half had passed since last he beheld me at Charlton Hall : I had grown considerably since then ; — for at the time of life of which I am speaking, an interval of eighteen months effects a considerable alteration in the per- sonal appearance of a youth. But to continue. Having hastily shut the front door, I lighted the hall-lamp, lest Dr. Pomfret should be angry at the omission — and then pro- ceeded to the dining-room, where he was seated with Mr. Sawkins. His countenance was some- what flushed with wine ; and by the emptv bottles upon the sideboard, it was evident that' he and the apothecary had made the best of their time in that respect since dinner. I had regained mv composure as well as I was able : at least I assumed it outwardly, though my mind was filled with painful thoughts of Annabel. I informed Dr. Pomfret that a gentleman wished to see him on immediate business : he bade me give him a bottle of soda-water without a moment's delay ; and when he had drunk it, he put on an air of bland and affable self-complacency, as he proceeded to the apartment to which the Baronet had been shown. I then descended to the kitchen, wondering what business could possibly have brought Sir Malcolm Wavenham to my master's house. Cer- tain misgivings — certain dreadful thoughts — floated in my brain : but I endeavoured with aU my power to disperse them. I wiU not dwell upon them now ; but will rather hasten to observe that at the expiration of about twenty minutes Sir Malcolm took his departure, and the doctor re- joined Mr. Sawkins in the dining-room. Three days elapsed, during which interval I was rendered very restless, uneasy, and anxious by those thoughts to which I have alluded ; and these were by no means mitigated in their painful poignancy, when I observed that the Private Parlour-maid was much engaged up-stairs, as if preparing one of the suites of rooms for the re- ception of a visitress. There is no use in dis- guising what my apprehensions really were. The reader has doubtless already penetrated them : for it was impossible for me to ditconnect the image of Annabel from whatsoever pursuits I found engaging the attention of Sir Malcolm "Waven- ham. But then I thought to myself, that as he was a thoroughly profligate young man, and in the course of his unscrupulous pleasures had no doubt effected the ruin of many female victims, he might have caUed at the doctor's house to make private arrangements for the reception of any one of these ; and that it was ridiculous to take it as a matter of absolute certainty that it could be for Annabel, and Annabel onlt/. Such was the argu- ment with which I strove to quiet my apprehen- sions and deaden my misgivings : but they never- theless constantly recurred in spite of me. It was not until the middle of the fourth day after Sir Malcolm Wavenham' s visit, I acquired the positive certainty that the suite of apartments on the first floor was actually being prepared for the reception of some one. Then however I gathered from the discourse of my fellow-servants that such was the case. But the Private Parlour- maid spoke a very few words on the subject — and these guardedlv. The name of Sir Malcolm was not mentioned at all: perhaps she did not know it ; — and I need not add that an equal silence was maintained in respect to her who was coming. I was not even sure that this expected arrival was the result of any arrangement Taade by that Baronet : it might have no connexion with him at all: he might have sought the doctor on other business ? Alas, no I — the state of my mind would not suffer it to be quieted by these reason- JOSEPH WIIMOT ; OR, THE MEMOmS OF A MAN-SERVANT. 135 Inasmuch as there was more bustle and activity on the part of Mrs. Pomfret on this fourth day than on the three preceding ones, I suspected that the visitress would come to the house in the course of tbc approaching night ; and when soon after ten o'clock I retired to my chamber as usual, I was tortured with such anxieties — such poignant excruciations of feeUng — that it would have been rain to think of rest. I sat up : my room was on the highest storey of the house, the window look- ing upon the street — but with so wide a ledge or cornice just beneath it, that I could not see down upon the pavement. Every time my ear caught the sounds of a vehicle approaching along the street, I listened with the utmost suspense to dis- cover whether it would stop at the doctor's door. Three or four thus passed — time was going on — midnight was approaching — when at length the sounds of another vehicle reached me. Again I listened; and this time they ceased immediately below. I opened the room-door : I even went partially down the stairs — I heard a low double knock given at the front door — and then footsteps hurrying through the hall. I felt sick at heart : — so unhappy, so wretched, with the frightful mis- givings which haunted me, that I thought I must cry out — or at least rush down to arrive at some certainty as to my fears. But no : I remained where I was — transfixed, yet shuddering. Yes — shuddering as if suddenly and all in a moment transferred to the midst of a hyperborean realm of eternal ice ! I heard voices speaking in hushed tones : but I could not recognise any one in particular. Then I heard footsteps ascending the first flight of stairs : the outer door of the suite of apartments on the first-floor opened ; and when it closed again, I staggered, with reeling brain and wildly palisitating heart, back to my own chamber. There, throwing myself upon the bed, I gave vent to my anguish in floods of tears and passionate sobs. My heart told me that I was now beneath the same roof as Annabel: I felt convinced of it ; and I knew that it must be under circumstances of branding shame and dishonour for her ! For many a long hour that night did I thus abandon myself to the bit- terness of my thoughts, — \mtil grief and despair expended theiaselves, as it were, with their ovv'n violence, leaving me weak, feeble, and exhavisted, alike in mind and body : so that when at last I put ofi" my apparel and entered the bed, sleep at once fell upon my eyes. But what dream was it that now followed me in my slumber ? Methought that I beheld Annabel standing by my bedside, radiant as I had first seen her nearly two years back, at the age of fifteen, invested with all the charms of beauty in its first virginal blossom. I beheld her with the myriad of ringlets of a golden hue clustering and waving around her exquisitely shaped head — her large azure eyes filled with a modest softness, and beam- ing with the light of innocence — the expression of mingled ingenuousness, simplicity, and serene though tfulness upon her countenance— the coral lips slightly apart, yet sufiiciently so to afford a glimpse of the pearls within. Yes — I beheld her as I had first seen her, in all respects the same except with regard to the apparel : for the fanciful nature of my dream clothed her with a seraphic raiment, — azure and white garments investing her form, and displaying the fairy lightness and sylpliid sjTnmctry of her shape with a ravishing efiect. The undulations of the bust — the slope of the shoulders — the slcndemess of the waist — and the lithe willo^vy elasticity of the figure, were all thus exquisitely defined — thus charmingly outlined; and she wore the semblance of a guardian angel as she appeared to be standing by my couch. Me- thought that I stretched out my arms towards her : but that movement on my part dissolved the spell of the delicious ch'eam : the bright apparition vanished — and quick as incidents can alone succeed each other in a vision of the night, was another scene conjured up to my view. For now I fancied that I was in the churchyard of Charlton village — that I was gazing in at the window of the sacred fane — that the iron din of the clock, clanging in my ear, was proclaiming the hour of midnight — and that all in a moment I beheld the form of Annabel, clad in the garments of the grave, pass- ing down the aisle. The moonlight poured into the church, silvery and cold — Oh, so cold! — methought it struck like ice-shafts to the very marrow of my bones; so that I shuddered and shivered in my very dream. Then towards me was turned the countenance of that white form — a covmtenance pale as the face of death ; and with a convulsing start and a cry of horror I awoke. That I did thus start, and that I did thus give give vent to a cry, I well knew so soon as I was enabled to collect my ideas : for I found myself stUl shuddering — and the door opening hurriedly, Philip the groom, who slept in the next chamber to me, rushed in, asking me what was the matter, that I had called out so loudly ? I told him — and it was indeed the truth — that I had just awakened from the midst of an unpleasant dream. This explanation, which of course satisfied him, was but too well corroborated by my affrighted and almost agonizing looks. For when he had retired, and I sprang out of bed and caught a glimpse of my features in the glass, I recoiled from the reflection of my own face. I was compelled to sit down, and exert all my mental energies in order to regain a degree of composure : for that dream struck me as being fearfully ominous. This was the beg inn ing of June : in three weeks more it would be Mid- summer's Eve again : and when the clock should strike twelve on that night, the year would be completed since the memorable date when either the freak of a morbid fancy or else a terrible pre- terhuman reality, had shown me the image of An- nabel in the aisle of Charlton church. CHAPTEE XXIX. midsummer's eve agaik. I PELT very ill for all the rest of that day; and when my fellow- servants noticed my appearance, I accounted for it by stating that I had passed a very bad night, which was troubled by sad dream.. — a circumstance which Philip at once undertook to corroborate. How I longed to ask Jane, the Private Parlour -maid, for some particulars relative to the personal appearance of the new occupant of the first-floor apartments ; but I dared not : — and even if I had, she would not have answered my 136 JOSEPH WILMOT ; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF A MA.K-SERVAXT. ! questions. Slie ■was too well paid, both by her mistress, aud by those on whom it was her exclu- sive duty to attend, to risk tiie loss of her situation by any idle gossipin;^. Besides, she was naturally discreet aud reserved : aud hor disposition was thus well calculated to support her personal interest. But what suspense and what painful anxiety for me, to believe myself to be beneath the same roof with Annabel, and yet not dare to seek her pre- sence ! Perhaps she was iiuhappy — alas, how could she be otherwise, if all I suspected was true ? • — and what else could I suspect save the very worst ? Yet again, how did I know it was she ? Was it not the very height of folly for me to adopt as a certainty that which at best was still a matter of doubt ? Nevertheless, again and again must I repeat that my heart told me my conjcctiu'C was the truth. Were I to record all the various thoughts which were excited in my mind, and all the conflicting emotions that were aroused into cruel agitation in my heart, the narrative would prove a most painful analysis of the human feelings. I will not there- fore be unnecessarily explicit on this point ; but wiU hasten to observe that several days passed, and the occupant of the first-floor suite of apart- ments kept as closely to them as the preceding lodger had done. Jane, the Private Parlour-maid, was unremitting in her attentions : Mrs. Poinfret liassed several hoiu-s each day with the lady. Often and often did I linger on the staircase near the iirst-floor lauding, in the hope that the inmate of those rooms might possibly come forth, if only for an instant — or that if the outer door should be accidentally left open, I might see her pass from one chamber to another. But no : what I hoped for, did not occiu-. At length it struck me all of a sudden,— aud then I wondered I had not thought of it before, — that so far from seeking to obtain an interview ^\^tll Annabel, if she it really v.erc, 1 ought to avoid the chance (hereof as much as pos- sible. Why take a step which, if successful, would only be plunging a fresh dagger into her heart ? why add to the amount of shame and anguish which she must ah-eady experience ? It would be cruel on my part. Besides, what could I nowpossibly be to her I and ought J to cling to her image so tenaciously as I did 'i No — it was my duty, for a hundred reasons, to banish her from my thoughts. Ah ! duty does not always run parallel with volition and inclination ! And let it not bo for a moment fancied that I now entertained the hope of ever becoming the husband of Amiabel. Under exist- ing circumstances I felt it to be impossible. But to act towards her as a brother — to do my best to conduct her into another and a better path — to raise up that broken flower, still so beautiful even in its ruin — to save her from a relapse into error -—and by gentlest yet most earnest suasion, to fix her mind upon the necessity of atoning for the past, — this had been my hope — this my aim, when seeking an interview with her. But I obtained it not : and now, as I bethought me that such an in- terview, if procm-ed, would be painful in the extreme, I resolved to watch for it no longer — but to await other circumstances and more fitting opportunities to carry out my design. Whenever a double knock was heard at the front door, it was with a palpitating heart I went to answer the suixunons, in the expectation of behold- ing Sir Malcolm Wavenham. But no. Day after day passed— and he came not. At least I did not behold him : if he came at all, it was at a late hour, after I had retired to rest. Aud tliis metUought was not improbable ; for iu such au establishment as Dr. Pomfret's, knocks and rings during the night were not unfrequent : but it was the duty of Philip the groom to attend to them. A fortnight had elapsed from the daie of the arrival of the new inmate of the first-floor apart- ments, when an incident occurred which left not the slightest doubt in my mind — if any indeed had before existed — that this inmate was Annabel. Dr. Pomfret gave me several letters to take to the post ; and as I proceeded along the street, I hap- pened to notice the direction on the envelope of one of them. It was to '•' Mrs. Lanover, No. , G-rcat Miisscll Street, Sloomshuri/, Ijondon." But the handwriting Oh! could I doubt it? was it not that of Annabel, though traced as if with a tremulous hand ! I stopped and read that direc- tion a dozen times over. I examined every word- scrutinized every letter. Yes — I felt assured it was the writing of Annabel. Slowly, thoughtfully, and moiu-nfuUy did I continue my way to the post- office ; and I do believe there was au instant \\\\cn I was tempted to open that letter, to ascertain in w hat terms and in what frame of mind an erring daugh- ter was thus addressing an affectionate aud doubt- less afflicted mother. But no: that impulse was as transitory as a rapidly passing thought coidd be : — not for worlds would I have violated ttie sanctity of the correspondence thus entrusted to me ! But now my thoughts flowed into another channel. I had thus acquired the certainty that Mrs. Lanover was still with her husband— or at least, it was reasonable to supjiose so ; and that liowcver cruel his conduct might have been to Annabel, after my flight from the house — however much such treatment might have tended to force her away from her home, aud induce her to take to the stage, her mother had not been expelled or urged to departure at the same time. How J pitied jjoor Mrs. Lanover — that amiable, suffering, kind- hearted woman, who was cursed with such a hus- band, aud who had ceased to enjoy the blessing of a virtuous and dutiful daughter ! Occupied iu such reflections as these, I retraced my way from the post-office to the doctor's house ; and for the remainder of that day, I was so ab- stracted that my fellow-servants questioned me on the subject. I gave evasive responses, and bustled with unusual activity about my duties in order to avoid farther questionings. Days passed on ; and tho 23rd of June arrived. The threshold of Midsummer's Eve was now closely touched upon. The instant I opened my eyes in the morning, the very first thought that flashed to my mind was this ominous date. In a few more hours, I said to myself, the year which seemed so intimately connected with Annabel's destinies would die into the eternity of the past. Was she to disappear with it ? Notwithstanding the pow- erful eflbrts I made to combat against superstitious ideas, I could not help feeUng most restless, most anxious, most imeasy, as that sinister date stood in colossal figm-es before me. They resembled gaunt spectres whose outstretched arms were pro- phetic of a fellow, creatm-e's doom. The reader cannot wonder that I should have thus been joscrii wiLiiox; 02, THE Mi^iioias of a max-skuv 'iNr. 137 troubled and agitated by such terrors and appre- hensions as these : despite all my elTorts to the contrary, my mind was filled with the gloomiest forebodings. 1 saw how difficult it would be to onceal my agitation from my fellow-sei'vants — and how iinsatisfactory any evasive replies would bo to their questionings. They would naturally think I had something hanging very heavy on my mind ; and from motives of kindness, as well as of curiosity, they would be certain to inter- rogate me. I therefore did the best I could to avoid them throughout that day : but it cost me an almost preterhuman exercise of self-control to assume an air of composure at meal times. And how wretchedly passed that day — how slowly — amidst what dark forebodings and mental excruciations ! If I said to myself, " The inci- dent in Charlton churchyard was a mere phantom of a disordered fancy," — there seemed to be a voice 18 responding solemnly in the depths of my soul, '•' No, it was a reality !" How I longed that the morrow should come ! how I dreaded to seek my chamber ! vrith. what profoimd apprehension did I look forward to the hour of midnight ! I was in the condition of one who felt assured that some- thing terrible was about to happen, but who all the time was endeavouring to persuade himself that his fears were foolish, puerile, and ground- less. At half-past ten the servants separated for the night, — all except the Private Parlour-maid, who seemed more than usually busy, and who was constantly hastening up and down stairs. "When the other domestics sought their chambers, she still remained in the kitchen, where the fire was kept burning, as if she had for the present no intention of retiring to rest. But a fire in the middle of siuomer — she needed it not for the sake 138 JOSEPH WTLMOT ; OR, THE ITEMOIES OP A M:A■^^-SETlTA^'T. of warmth : it was evidently for the preparation of things that might be needed by an invalid under particular circiuustanees. However, I was now alone in my own chamber ; and not for a moment did I think of seeking my couch. I did not put off an article of my appai-cl — but sat down and gave way to my reflections. Eleven o'clock was proclaimed by the deep-toned bell of the nearest church : another hour, and the year woidd be complete ! If Annabel should be still alive when the last stroke of twelve had ceased to vibrate in the air, then indeed might I adopt the conclusion that the incident o£ Charlton church was all a freak of the fancy but not till then. For now, as midnight approached, my superstitious terrors grev,- more and more pro- fauud, and likewise more poignant. Half-an-hour passed; one half-hour alone re- mained to complete the year. I now heard the front-door open and close with some little degree of violence, as if in the excitement of haste on the part of the individual who had either just gone out or just come in. Almost immediately afterwards my ear caught the sounds of a loud knocking at Mr. Sawkins' door opposite : and hurrying to my window, I distinctly perceived Dr. Pomfrct stand- ing on the steps of the apothecai-j-'s house: for the ledge which ran underneath my casement, did not shut out from my view the pavement on the opposite side of the way. I hastened to extinguish the light, which I had still kept burning in my room, — for fear the physician, on looking up, should perceive it, and woiUd be angry at the circumstance. But again, in a moment, was I at the window ; and by the light of the brilliant-coloured lamp I beheld iMr. Sawkins come forth and instantane- ously cross the way with the doctor. The front- door of the house now opened and closed again ; and I, a prey to the most torturing anxiety, could not possibly resist the impulse which my feel- ings gave to open the door of my own chamber. I went forth, and listened : the sounds of several footsteps and the m\urmiu-3 of voices reached me from below. AU in an instant I felt shocked and ashamed at my own conduct — and stole back into my chamber. But in the excitement of my mind I forgot to close the door behind me. I threw myself on a chair, and again gave way to my re- flections. Ten minutes or a quarter of an horn- must have thus passed, when I was startled up by hearing footsteps again moving about in the lower pai't of the house, and now as if in a very hurried and excited manner. Once more did such wild ap- prehensions seize upon me — such dreadful alarms — that I ceased to have any control over my thoughts or actions. I rushed forth. It struck me that something terrible had occurred. I felt convinced of it. AU my superstitious aliirms of the day — all my dread forebodings, appeared to accumulate as if to strike me with one tremendous blow. Again was I on the landing ; and voices from the first floor reached my ears. Good heavens, what were the words which I thus caught ! '•' It is all over, poor thing I" said Mrs. Pom- fret, whose voice I at once recognised. '■' She is " "Dead?" ejaculated the Private Pai-lour-maid, who at the moment was hurriedly ascending the stairs to that floor. '■■ Dead !" was the thi-illing echo which bxwst from my lips : for. Oh ! the horrible word smote with such terrific power upon my brain, and sent a pang of such ineffable agony piercing through my heart, that I lost all control over myself. Dead ! Good heavens, Annabel was dead ! Wildly I rushed down the stairs. Mrs. Pomfret and the Private Parlour-maid, who had heard the dread monosylLible echoed from my lips, and had then caught the sounds of my precipitating footsteps, were standing transfixed with mingled dismay and amazement at the wild excitement thus evidenced on my part. I bounded past them : the arms of both were outstretched to hold me back as I rushed towards the door, which stood open, and through which a light was glimmering from -within. But a whole army of men would not have retained me then ! Onward I flew — madly ! I remember that a room having the appearance of a parlour, was traversed with the speed of the whirlwind. Into the room beyond did I precipitate myself. It was a bed-chamber : a light was burning on a table — an did. woman (a nurse) was hastening out as I entered : Dr. Pomfret and Mr. Sawkins were likewise advancing towards the door — I suppose to ascertain what the disturbance meant. But, reck- less of everything — a prey to mingled madness and despair — I dashed past them. And there, in that bed, lay a lifeless form : — upon the pillow reposed a head the wealth of whose luxuriant hair flowed all wildly about, and whose countenance was of the mai'ble pallor of death ! " Annabel 1 dearest Annabel !" I exclaimed in a passionate outburst of grief; as I threw myself upon my knees, extending my clasped hands wildly towards her who slumbered in the sleep that knew no waking. At that instant the neighbouring church-clock began to proclaim the hour of midnight ; and as its deep metaUic tones, penetrating into the room, rolled upon my ear, methought they were the same as those of Charlton Church when proclaiming the same hour, precisely one year back, on thac Mid- summer's Eve which showed me the prophetic vision that was now so fatally fulfilled. A rudo hand grasped me violently by the shoulder : the voice of Dr. Pomfret sternly and roughly spoke something, the sense of which I did not however catch : a dizziness seized upon my brain — the room appeared to be turning round — the corpse itself seemed moving likewise — and with a heavy groan I sank senseless upon the floor. CHAPTER XXX. SIT CHAilBEE. Whex I awoke to consciousness, I was xmdressed, and in my bed in my own attic chamber. It was broad daylight ; and it appeared as if I were awakening from some horrible dream, but the nature of which I could not immediately remember. Full soon however did a dreadful recollection flash to my mind ; and the whole scene of that chamber of death was vividly conjured up to my view all in a moment. I started up, — as if with the wild glance which I flung round the chamber, I could at once catch at something that woiUd cleai- up the horrible imcertainty in which I was involved, and r' JOSEPH WILMOT ; OB, THE MEMOIES OF A MAN-SERVANT. 139 cither convince me that it was a vision or a reality. Eut 1 sank back with a sensation of utter weak- ness, as if just recovering from a long, a severe, and an exhausting illness. I experienced, too, such a racking pain in the head, that I mechani- cally raised my hand to my brow — and found that it was bandaged. As I passed my hand over that bandage, the movement was accompanied by suddenly-excited sharp stinging pains on either temple ; so that the idea at once struck me that I had been leeched. I shuddered coldly from head to foot, while a horrible consternation seized upon my mind. Was it all true ? had I indeed faDen down in a swoon by the side of the couch whereon reposed the dead Annabel ? and had that incident been followed by a severe illness — perhaps an ill- ness which, for aught I laicw to the contrary, might have already lasted several days, and not merely several hours ? And then too arose in my memory the prophetic vision in Charlton Chiu'ch : thoughts of awful solemnity gradually crept into my mind — a superstitious terror, which was not however all a terror; because, if the spirit of Annabel had suddenly glided up to my bedside, I felt that I should not have been afraid ! I lay for some minutes in a state of mind which cannot be easily explained. How I wished that some one would enter, that I might put the ques- tions for which I so yearned to receive answers. IIow long had I been ill ? — had only hoiirs elapsed, or had days passed, since I beheld the inanimate form of Annabel stretched like a beauteous marble statue in that couch of death, her lovely head re- posing in stillness upon the golden masses of her luxuriant hair ? Again I strove to rise — but I could not : it seemed as if all my physical energies Lad been crushed out of me : I was thoroughly powerless, prostrate — as incapable of following my volition as the infant child. Gradually — doubtless through exhaustion — a drowsiness stole over me : the objects in the cham- ber grew fancifully dim — till at length they faded from my view, — while the mist of sleep deepened around me. Then methought I heard the door gently opening ; and that old nurse whom I had seen in the chamber of death, stole slowly round the bed towards me. But she was immediately followed by another figure — a slender and youthful shape, habited in deep mourning. But, Oh ! it seemed as if -wild and ecstatic fancies suddenly sprang into existence in my brain, as I beheld the hair which crowned the head of that young crea- ture. It was of the same precious golden hue as that of Annabel : but instead of showering do^-n in nijTiads of shining curls on her neck and shoulders, it was gathered up in rich massive bands and fas- tened with black ribbons. I did not immediately catch a glimpse of the countenance : but soon I did, as it was bent upon me. And then — Oh, wilder thoughts ! — Oh, vision more ecstatic still ! — it seemed to me the countenance of Annabel. Yes, her countenance — but pale — indeed colourless — all save the vermilion lips, which had their bright vital colouring. Was it a spirit from the other world which I thus beheld ? Ah ! how touchingly mournful — how full of a sweet pathetic interest and of an angelic sympathy — was the expression of that face, as the soft mournful azure eyes were fixed upon mine ! I longed to stretch out my arms towards that beauteous vision : but it sud- denly disappeared from my view — and it seemed as if the darkest, blackest night fell upon my eyes, '^\'hen I again woke, a rushlight was burning on the chest of drawers in my little chamber ; and I perceived a medicine-bottle standing near it. I raised my hand to my forehead to steady my thoughts : it was merely a mechanical movement — but it made me aware that the bandage was gone. I felt my temples ; and the evidences of leech-bites were there. Then, I had indeed been very ill : — perhaps I had raved in delirium ? perhaps I had passed through the ordeal of a dangerous fever ? I now felt convinced that whole days, and not merely hours, must have elapsed since I sank dow-n senseless by the side of the couch whereon I beheld the dead one. Oh ! if days had thus passed by, she was perhaps already in the cold grave — at least in the narrow coffin ; and never more could it be given to me to look again upon the counte- nance of her whom I had loved so tenderly and so well ! The tears streamed from my eyes — my heart was convulsed with bitterest sobs— and I miir-' mured continuously for some minutes the name of Annabel. I lay awake for more than three hours. I heard the church-clock strike one — then two. I beheld the glimmering of the midsummer dawn come tremulously in at the window and make the ruslilight grow pale. The clock struck three ; and then again did a drowsiness come upon me, and sleep revisited my eyes. How long I slept I know not : but after awhile methought that I had an- other singular dream. It appeared to me as if it was now altogether light in the chamber — that the door opened — that the old nurse came cautiously in — and that she was followed by the same figure clad in deep mourning, that I had before beheld and that bore the likeness of Annabel. Methought that in a species of holy and serene rapture did my eyes follow this angelic being as she approached the couch ; and that her looks were again bent upon me with the mournfulcst, holiest sympathy. It seemed also that I studied her attentively, and that the similitude she bore to Annabel was per- I feet. There w-as the same exquisite symmetry of ' the figure, with the developed charms of sweet seventeen — the same classic profile of the counte- nance — the same clear azuro of the large and mournful- looking eyes — and there too the same glory of the rich golden hair. And the transparent fairness of the skin was set off even dazzlingly by the sable garments : — every featm-e, every linea- ment, every graceful contour, every elegant attri- bute, — all these were the characteristics of Anna- bel. But what meant the singularity of this dream ? Wherefore a second time should I fancy that she thu^ followed that old nurse into the room ? — and this niirse, too, an ugly creature whose wrinkled countenance and hatchet features seemed positively repulsive when viewed by the side of Annabel's exquisite loveliness. Again did the vision fade from my view ; but after a short interval I awoke completely, and found myself alone. The church clock was striking eight in the morning. I looked towards the drawers : the rushlight was gone— the medicine bottle was re- moved from the table — and its contents had diminished ; for I well recollected up to what mark they were when I had first noticed that bottle in 140 JOSrPH ■WTLMOT ; on, TUB MEMOTR3 OP A MilT-SERVA'N'T. the nigiit. I had too in my mouth a nauseous I taste, -which was not merely that of fever, hut \ evidently of a medicine which had been poured j between my lips. Therefore some one had been ■ in the room very recently. Perhaps it was that , old nurse ? But methought how diseased must i my imagination be — how ecstatically morbid — how superstitiously fanciful, to depict that old hag as ; being on each occasion followed by the mourning ; spirit of the dead Annabel ! I I felt a little stronger than I was on the pre- { vious day — but only a very little. I could sit up in the bed for a few minutes, without a sense of such complete exhaustion as that which had pre- viously flung me back again upon my pillow : but { I coulil not get out of bed — I was stiU too weak for that. IS'ow I resolved to lie awake until some one should come, that I might ask the questions which I so much longed to put. In a few minutes , I heard footsteps approaching the door : it opened — and, sure enough, the old nurse entered. Ah ! | with what a -wild palpitation of the heart did I keep my eyes fixed upon that door, to see whether the spirit-form of Annabel, clad in its deep mourn- ing garments, would follow now. But no : the old woman had closed the door — and it opened not again to admit that shape so anxiously awaited. But if it were a vision, it needed no opening doors. "Walls of adamant and barriers of brass — ramparts of stone, thick as those of any fortalice — would not keep out the gliding apparition from another world. But it came not : the nurse was alone. '•' How long have I been ill ?"' I inquired : and I was struck with a sort of dismay at the sound of my own voice— so weak and feeble was it, and such a paiiifid effort did it cost me to give utter- ance to those accents at all. " Ah ! my poor young man, you are really awake now ?" said the old woman ; and though her features were so ugly, her manner was kind and her tone soothing. '• You have been ill about ten days — very, very ill indeed ; and you must not talk much-^ no, not at all ; for you are yet ex- cessively weak." " I hare been ill ton days ?" I said, in accents scarcely audible even to myself: and the tears gushed forth from my eyes as I murmured, " Then it is all over ! Annabel reposes in her cold grave ; and never more shall I look upon her counte- nance !" "Always Something of this sort in his de- lirium, poor Joseph !" said the nurse, evidently in a merely musing manner, and not thinking that the words would be caught or comprehended by me. " I can assure you that I am perfectly sensible," I answered: and she gazed upon me with a strange scrutiny, in which commiseration was blended. She coidd scarcely bring herself to believe that what I said was correct. '•' Poor youth, the fever has not yet left him !" she said, shaking her head in a sorrowful manner. " Nurse," I responded, " believe — Oh, believe me, I am sensible now ! I know where I am — I know what you have been telling me — I have been ill ten days ! And I have been leeched," I added, as I raise! my hand towards my tem- ples. " Well, my dear youth," she answered, " if you are really getting better, I am truly delighted : for you have been so very, very ill. Now a great deal depends upon yourself. You must remain very quiet — you must have nothing to excite you — you must not think of the past indeed you must not !" I was about to tell her of my dreams — how I had beheld the spirit-form of Aiinabel enter the room on two occasions at the same time with her- self : but I felt ashamed of revealing such fancies ; and moreover I did really experience so much weakness after the exertion of breathing even the few words I had spoken, that I held my peace. The nurse said she would go and tell Dr. Pomfret I was awake, and that I was better ; and she would also inquire what food she should now give me. I found that she was altogether a very kind- hearted old creature ; and with an expressive glance did I thank her for her goodness towards me. She was a well-spoken woman too ; and I subsequently learnt that she had seen better days, and by misfortune was compelled to earn her bread as an attendant upon the sick-couch. She quitted the room ; and in a few minutes Dr. Pomfret, in his rich flowing sUk dressing- gown, made his appearance. As I heard his well- known footsteps approaching, I was somewhat frightened, lest he should upbraid me for my con- duct in bursting so rudely and unceremoniously into the chamber of death on that memorable night from which my iUness dated. But I was as agreeably surprised as I was infinitely relieved, when he entered the room with an affiible expres- sion of countenance, and with a few cheering words. For as if he himself had foreseen what ray apprehension would naturally be, he hastened to say, in those bland tones which he coidd so well assume at pleasure, " Do not be uneasy, Joseph- do not excite yourself: I am not going to scold you. Indeed, we wUl not speak a word of the past." Ho drew a chair to the side of the bed — sat down — felt my pulse — asked me several questions with regard to my sensations — and concluded by observing that I was much better, that I was get- ting on as well as could be expected after so serious an illness, and that I might have some tea and dry toast if I fancied such refreshment. Not a syllable did he utter in respect to the incidents of that memorable night : not a word of inquiry did he put as to how I knew her who had died beneath his roof: not a single query as to the circumstances under which I had been impelled to the side of the death-bed ! He spoke kindly — and a stranger would have thought feelingly, — bidding me be of good cheer — assuring me that I should want for nothing — and that if I took care of myself, I should soon be well. I was proceeding to express my thanks, when he checked me, beseeching me not to exert myself: and then he quitted the room. The nurse brought me up the promised refreshment ; and soon after I had partaken of it, I again fell off into a profound slumber. And now again — after the lapse of an interval the length of which I could not compute — me- thought that I entered upon the ecstatic phase of one of those dreams in which my diseased imagi- nation proved so active. It appeared to me that I awoke — that on opening my eyes I found it waa still broad dayUght — and that the sun was shining with its noon-day power in at the window. Then JOSEPIt WILMOT ; OB, THE JfRXOYR^ OF A MAI^^-STiinVANT. 141 it seemed to me that the door gently opened : but this time instead of its being the nurse who entered, it was that same spirit -form which bore the likeness of Annabel. I heard the rustling of the mourning dress : I heard too the light tread of her steps, almost aerial as they were. It appeared to me likewise that she agitated the curtain at the foot of the bed as she passed. She came up to the side of the couch ; and again her looks were bent in tenderest, mournfulest sympathy upon me. I longed to address her : I longed to speak to her as I beheld those sweet azure eyes thus looking down upon my countenance, shedding as it were a soft and benignant light in unto my very soul. Yes, I longed to speak ; and I felt that I had the power to murmur a few words. "Tell me, Annabel," I said, "wherefore do you come to me thus ? Do you bear some warning or some communication from the other world ? Are you happy, Annabel ? God grant that you are ! Oh, you know not how I loved you while you were iipon earth ! Yes — I loved you with all a brother's fondest devotion. Though you erred, I could not love you less ! Speak to me, Annabel : speak to him who thus loved you so tenderly and so well!" " Joseph — dear Joseph," answered the sweet soft musical voice which was so familiar to my ear ; and it sounded like the most delicious music descending from the spheres. " Oh, you speak to me at last, dearest Annabel !" I said : and my arms were outstretched towards her. She gave me her own hand : I seized it — I pressed it in both my own Good heavens ! I was awake — it was no dream — neither was it a spirit who was thus by my side : it was a being of flesh and blood — the living, breathing Annabel herself! The shock of mingled bewilderment and joy was too much for me : and I fainted. When I came to myself, the old nurse was by the bedside ; but vainly were my anxious looks swept around in the hope of seeing Annabel. She was not there; and then again I fancied that everything which had occurred could have been nothing more than a delusive dream. The tears trickled from my eyes Oh, it was a dream so delicious — so delightful ! — but yet I said to myself that it was of too elysian a character to be realized. For how was it possible ? Had I not myself seen that lovely creature a pale inanimate corpse ? and if it were merely a trance — if by any miracle she bad come back to life — wherefore should she be in mourning ? "Do not weep, Joseph," whispered the old nurse, in a kind soothing tone : " you shall see her again " " Heavens !" I ejaculated, starting up in the wildest excitement : " what mean you ? Can you read the dreams which have been visiting me " " It was no dream," interrupted the nurse. " She whom you have seen, lives." " Annabel lives !" I murmured — and fell back upon the pillow. " Yes. But do not excite yourself," continued the nurse. " Annabel I^anover lives : it was her twin-sister Violet whom you saw dead !" Her tmn-sister ! — what a revelation for me. As the lightning darts through the murkiest clouds, making in a moment everything a blaze of liglit, did this revelation sweep through my mind, dispelling all that was mysteriously dark there before. Her twin-sister ! Then Annabel was still the virtuous, the well-principled, the stainless, and immaculate being that I had originally known ; and it was her sister whoso errors had caused me so much unhappincss ! A thousand things were now accounted for : as for instance, the treatment I had experienced at the hands of Violet at the theatre — and then, many months later, the circum- stance of my beholding, in the Baronet's carriage, her whom I took for Annabel, within but a few hours after having met the real Annabel at Exeter. I need not however revert to all those details : the reader will comprehend how many painful circumstances were now divested of whatsoever mystery had at the time seemed to attach itself to them. AMiilc for Annabel's sake I deplored the loss of a sister whom I knew that her generous heart must love tenderly and fondly, despite her frailties and errors, — yet, on the other hand, great was my joy at thus finding my dreams realized— or rather that they were no dreams at all, but that while my mind had been half wandering under the influence of fever, I had more than once seen the real, living, breathing Annabel visiting my sick chamber with a most tender solicitude. " Nurse," I said, " the words you have breathed in my ears, have poured a balm into my heart. And now I feel that I shall soon be well Oh, yes ! I shall soon be well." " You must not excite yourself," said the good old woman ; " or else, instead of getting well, you will experience a reaction." " No, no — not so long as Miss Lanover is be- neath this same roof ! Do hrstcn and tell her " But I stopped suddenly short : for I was stricken by tho fact that although, while I was in so dan- gerous a condition, she might out of sisterly kind- ness — or as my cousin — pay me an occasional visit, it would be indecorous for rac to send and request her to come to my chamber. And then, too, a horrible thought suddenly sprang up in my mind. Perhaps her father, — that dreaded himipback-^he whom I was more or less bound to regard as my uncle, — might possibly be also stopping at tho doctor's house : and if so, what new misfortunes, or indeed what terrible dangers, might be in store for me ? " Tell me, nurse," I said, — and my countenance must have expressed my fears ; for she regarded me with imeasiness, as if apprehensive of a re- lapse, — " tell me, are Miss Lanover's parents here with her ?" " No," she replied. " iliss Lanover came alone. She arrived the very day after her sister's death. Her mother is, I believe, in London: but her father, from what I imderstood, is upon the Con- tinent on very particular business." This last assurance was an infinite relief to my mind ; and the nurse appeared more at her ease as she beheld the altering expression of my coun- tenance. " You must do the best you can," she said, " to get well. Do not excite yourself — and there will be no fear of a relapse. Your cousin Miss Lan- over takes her departure to-morrow ; but you shall see her again in the course of the day. There !" added the nurse, doubtless struck by the eudden 142 JOSEPH WILMOT; on, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. brighteuing-up of my looks ; " you will not follow my advice — you will give way to your feelings !" " How can I prevent it ?" was the involuntary exclamation which burst from my lips — just as if the old woman knew how intense was the love that I experienced for Annabel. "But if you wish me to resume a proper tranquillity," I went on to say, " you will let me see Miss Lanover again as quick as possible." "Well, well," answered the good-natured old woman ; " I will go at once." I expressed my gratitude with a look ; and she quitted the chamber. In a few minutes she re- turned, accompanied by Annabel ; and I felt such a gush of ineffable emotions welling up as it were from the profundities of my heart, that I could not give utterance to a word : but tears of delight trickled down my cheeks. Agaia did An- nabel give me her hand, which I pressed to my lips ; and as it was not immediately withdrawn, I continued to cover it with kisses, until she gently disengaged it, while her countenance was suffused with blushes. The old nurse remained in the room : — how I wished that she would retire ! — for I had so many, many things to speak of to An- nabel ; and I dared scarcely touch upon any one ia the presence of a third person. " Joseph," said the fair yoimg creature, as she sat down upon a chair by the bedside — and she spoke in a low, almost whispering voice, — " you are now aware of the loss which I have sustained — the loss of a sister who was dear to me, not- wthstanding " She stopped short ; and the crystal tears burst forth from her eyes. I could not bear to see her weep ; and yet I breathed not a word in vain en- deavour to console her — for I knew that what- soever I might say on so painful a subject, could only have the effect of aggravating her grief. She wiped her eyes ; and bending her mournful looks again upon me, said, " I know what is passing in your mind: there are many, many things upon which we have to speak — but there are also many, many reasons why we must not touch upon them now. I return to London to-morrow ; but I will leave with you a copy of certain papers 1 can say no more — I have abeady made this copy for the purpose ; and it will explain the mysteries of much which has hitherto been incomprehensible to you." " You return to London to-morrow, Annabel ?" I said, in a profoimdly mournful voice. "But when— Oh, when am I likely to see you again ?" "I know not, Joseph," she answered; and it was with a certain quivering of the voice, which made me fancy that she would have been pleased to have beheld a prospect of a speedy meeting. " No — I cannot say. Wo must trust to circum- stances " " Oh ! will you forgive me, Annabel," I said, in so gentle a whisper that my words could not have reached the ears of the old nurse,— "will you for- give me for having told you ere now how fondly and devotedly I have loved you ? — wiU you forgive me, too, if I add that I can never cease to love you thus fondly, thus devotedly? Tell me, dearest Annabel, that you are not angry with me ! Per- haps imder existing circumstances," — and I glanced at her mourning di-css, — " I ought not to be speak- ing thus : but you depart to-morrow— a long time may elapse ere we meet again— tell me therefore that you are not angry with me ?" As she averted her blushing countenance, she once more gave me her hand — that fair beauteous hand, so small, so white, so exquisitely modelled : and again too did I press it to my lips. It was gently withdrawn ; but still it lingered long enough in my clasp to convince me that Annabel was not angry with me, and that I was not indifferent to her. "And now, Joseph," she said, again bending her looks upon me, " I have something of a very painful nature to communicate. My father," — and it was evidently with a strong feeling of shame and sorrow struggling against a sense of filial duty, that she spoke, — "will return to London iu a short time — ^perhaps a fortnight; and it may probably reach his ears — though not from my lips, rest assured — that you are beneath this roof. You can well understand," she went on to observe iu a very low whisper, " that I cannot request Dr. and Mrs. Pomfret )iot to say that you are here, should they communicate with my father — because I have ah'cady told them that you are my cousin, and I dare not — I must not — throw out any hint prejudicial to the character of that father of mine." " Annabel — dearest Annabel, do not speak an- other word!" I hastent.l to say, "upon a subject so painful. I shall soon be well — Oh ! now that I have seen you, and that so many causes of unhap- piness are removed, my recovery will be speedy. I comprehend the counsel you would give mo : I wiU leave this place — I will go elsewhere." "Do so, Joseph — do so, I conjure you!" said Annabel, in a tone and with a look of such earnest heartfelt interest, that the feelings thus excited within me, absorbed entirely whatsoever painful thoughts would otherwise have taken possession of me at the prospect of having again to seek my bread elsewhere. " But tell me, dear Annabel, may I not write to you occasionally — if only once " " Joseph, it is impossible." she answered. "The letter might fall into my father's hand ; and But I need say no more — the subject is a most painful one." The nm-se now interposed — but quite good- naturedly, and vnth the delicately exercised au- thority of her position as guardian of the sick-room — to put an end to the interview, as she feared that I was speaking too much. She however hinted that if Miss Lanover chose to pay me another visit in the evening, to bid me ftvrewell, full permission would be accorded ; and the pro- mise was given by her who was more than ever the goddess of my adoration, since I now found her to be all I thought and hoped when first I knew her. After she had quitted the chamber, the nurse gave me my medicine, and bade me endeavour to compose myself to sleep. I promised that I would ; and she left me for a while. But as the reader may suppose, I was too busily occupied with my thoughts to be able to close my eyes iu slumber for a considerable time. Hgw much had I to say to Annabel ! and how much had been left unsaid ! She knew nothing of all tJiat had happened to me since last we met ; and I knew nothing of what had ha^jpened to her since the memorable night JOSEPH. WILMOT ; OB, THE MEMOIRS OP A MAlf - SEETANT. 143 wheu she effected my liberation from her father's house ! But while I was thus giving way to my reflections, sleep gradually stole upon me ; and in my dreams did the image of Annabel stand con- spicuously radiant. When I awoke, it was evening : a light was burning in the room — and the nurse was seated by the bedside. In answer to her questions, I gave her the assurance that I felt much better : she made me take some refreshment which she had in readiness ; and when I had partaken of it, she smilingly intimated that she would fetch my cousin to bid mc farewell. In a few minutes Annabel was again with me : but still the nurse remained in the room — and I could not possibly feel offended that she should display this discretion and pro- priety. I was overwhelmed with grief at the thought of parting from Annabel with no certainty of again beholding her soon — with no certainty indeed that we should ever meet again : but yet I had faith in the goodness of heaven, and thus was I saved from utter despair. Annabel too was much affected : few were the words which passed between us — for of all the many topics whereon I wished to touch, there was none that could bo approached without the risk of calling up some painful feeling in her mind ; and I would sootier have perished than plunge a dagger into her heart. " Joseph," she said, " I have not forgotten my promise relative to the copies of certain papers, which contain explanations of many past circxmi- stanees. But considering your weak and enfeebled state, I do not dare to place them in your hands at present. Dr. Pomfret will give you a sealed packet when you are convalescent. Make haste, therefore, and get well, dear Joseph, in order that you may relieve yom-self from suspense without the danger of a relapse from the excitement of reading a painful narrative. And now I must bid you farewell : I depart very early to-morrow morn- ing — and we must not meet again on this occa- sion." " Oh, when shall vie meet?" I miirmured, press- ing her hand to my lips. " Be of good cheer, and keep up your spirits," she responded : but her voice was tremulous with the emotions which were evidently convulsing her bosom ; and quickly averting her coimtenance, she passed her kerchief over her eyesi " And you wiU not forget me, Armahel ?" I said, when she again turned her looks upon me. " Forget you no, Joseph ! I am incapable ■of deceit — incapable of dissimulation. You un- derstand me : need I say any more P" " I understand, dearest Annabel," I answered, " that the fond and devoted love I bear for you, is not altogether without a reciprocal feeling." She pressed my hand which clasped her own ; she bent over me — her lips just touched my fore- head — and the next instant slie was gone. Oh! that kiss, though slight as the touch of the butterfly upon the flower, was imprinted there : — I felt it — and its influence thrilled tlirough me, but ^vith the holiest and piu-est sensation ! Now I knew that Annabel loved me ! As plainly as her modest and bashful nature would permit her to make such an avowal, had she made it; and it was a source of ineffable solace to my soul in the despondency of separation. What tome were now all the futm-e trials which I might have to encounter ? what to me all the battliugs and stragglings in the world, since I possessed the love of Annabel? To know that she was alive when I thought her dead — to know that she was immaculate when I had fancied her erring and lost — to know that she would now hve for mo as I should live for her — that we should be inspired by the same hope of seeing better days, — Oh, all these reflections constituted in one sense a sum of hap- piness which weU nigh counterbalanced the an- guish of separation in another sense ! But I will not dwell at unnecessary length upon this portion of my narrative. On the following morning Annabel departed: we did not meet again: but the kind old nurse informed mc that she sent me her most affectionate remembrances. Days passed on : I grew rapidly better — and was at length enabled to sit up for several hours together. To be brief, a fortnight passed after Annabel's departure ; and I was now convalescent. Dr. Pomfret, who came up to my chamber twice every day, at length gave mo to imierstand that he had a packet of papers to deliver over to mo, and that on the following morning I should be put in possession of them. The wished-for hoiu' ar- rived — the packet was presented to mc — the address was in the well - known writing of the adored Annahel — and the instant I was alone I tore open the envelope. The contents were twofold. There was a sheet of paper, closely written, and filled with explanations of Annabel's own : there was another sheet, containing a copy of a letter which her departed sister Violet had written to Mrs. Lanover a few days before her death, and which had led to Annabel's visit to the doctor's house. It was no doubt this very same letter which I had conveyed to the post, and the handwriting of the address of which had so strongly confirmed my belief that it was reaUy Annabel herself who was beneath that roof. For I must observe that there was as remarkable a similitude between the writing of the two sisters as there was in respect to their personal appearance ; — and that this latter simili- tude must have been gi-eat indeed — almost miracu- lous — to have so long kept me in error as to the fact of Annabel and Violet being two distinct indi- viduals, the reader may well suppose. But without lingering any longer at present upon these points, let me hasten to give, in the ensuing chapter, an outline of those explanations and revelations which I gathered from the con- tents of Annabel's packet. CHAPTER XXXI. THE TWIN-9ISTEE8. The earliest ideas of the twin-sisters, Violet and Annabel, were associated with a sumptuously- furnished mansion, which was their home. It was situated in a fashionable Square at the West End of London ; and Mr. Lanover's mode of life seemed to indicate the possession of considerable wealth. But from their early infancy the sisters had an in- stinctive dread of theii- father, — with a propoi-- tionatc amount of earnest affection for their mother. So far as their recollections could be carried back, this poor motUer of their's suffered The position to which the poor mother, with her much from her husband's brutality : but she en- , two children, found herself reduced by her hus deavoured to bear her lot with as much Christian fortitude and resignation as she could possibly summon to her aid. Mr. Lanover, it appeared, was one of the partners in an eminent banking- house of Lombard Street; and he was therefore absent from home the greater part of the day. Then the children could indulge in then* infantile sports without the fear of being repressed or co- erced : but the moment their father returned home at the dinner-hour, they were either hurried up to the nursery, or else compelled to sit down in the parlour and remain perfectly quiet, — the slightest ebullition of that merriment which was so natural to their age, being immediately followed by the harshest language from Mr. Lanover — and perhaps blows. As time went on, and their mental percep- tion grew clearer and keener, their yowtg hearts band's nefarious deeds, was a most distressing one : but she nevertheless maintained her fortitude ; — and when starvation stared them in the face, she sought needle-work, — she who had lived as a lady and possessed every luxury, — in order to obtain bread for her husband and her daughters. For some three or four years it was a desperate struggle which she had to make, in order to pro- vide a morsel of food and keep a roof over theii* heads. But she toiled on — and even found time to attend to her children's education. During that interval, however, there were periods when the family experienced the most pinching poverty — sometimes bordering on absolute want : for Mrs. Lanover coidd not always obtain work ; and when she did, it was so poorly paid. Nor even through- out these severe trials had she the consolation of were frequently shocked by the treatment which receiving the gratitude and kind attention of that their mother experienced at her husband's hands ; I husband for whom she worked as well as for their and though she evidently endeavoured to conceal j little ones : adversity Soured his temper more and from those dear children the poignant bitterness of her affliction, they often sui'prised her in the midst of paroxysms of grief and floods of tears. The Lanovers saw but little society : the character of Mr. Lanover himself— his manners — and his appearance, were not calculated for social inter- course, nor to gather friends around him : while Mrs. Lanover had not the power of inviting a single soul to the house imless with the previous consent of her husband. The few yho did visit, were half-ruined noblemen and spendthrift gentle- men, who were under pecuniary obligations to Mr. Lanover, and whose interest it therefore was to court him. The sisters were about seven years old when the bank suddenly failed — and under such circum- stances, that a prosecution for &aud was instituted by several creditors against the partners, — the laws of bankruptcy being much more severe at that time than they are at the present day. The prosecution failed, so far as to procure the infliction of any punishment upon the fraudulent bankrupts : but its result was the total destruction of their charac- ters. Mr. Lanover, having been the most active member of the firm, and the one whose misdeeds had chiefly tended to bring the establishment to ruin, sufi'ered in this respect even more than his associates, — who did not fail to charge him with the whole blame of the malversations and the de- linquencies in the odium of which they were made the sharers. The consequence was that when thus ruined, he had not a single friend to give him a helping hand : his siunptuous furniture — his plate and his wines — even to his very wife's jewellery, were all swept away. The family was compelled to leave the house in the West End Square, and take refuge in lodgings. Branded in character— an imcertificated bankrupt — without sympathy and without succour — Mr. Lanover had to reflect how it was possible for him to begin the world anew. He tried a variety of schemes : they failed one after another ; and as time passed on, the family were plunged deeper and deeper down into the vortex of distress. The tw-in-sisters never heard either their father or their mother speak of any relations ; and none ever visited them. Indeed neither of their parents ever made the slightest allusion to the familiea from which they had respectively sprung. more ; and each successive calamity only tended the more deeply to brutalize his disposition. The want of that very work for which the poor lady so often sought in vain through many hours of tedious wanderings from shop to shop, was made a re- proach; and when she did procure employment, the small pittance it earned was frequently taken by him to be expended elsewhere, and in ways relative to which he would give no explanation. After a while — when the sisters were between ten and eleven years old — Mr. Lanover by some means obtained a sufficiency of funds to open a little ofiice as an accountant, a general agent, bill- broker, and so forth. His character was however so much against him that the business he obtained was small — until he suddenly acquired ampler means and took the house in Great Hussell Street. By this time his poor wife's health had begun to fail : she was no longer able to work with her needle ; and fortunately there was no longer a necessity: for Mr. Lanover's business as a bill- broker, and agent for noblemen and gentlemen in embarrassed circumstances, began to thrive. Still some severe struggles were experienced ; and an- other year or two elapsed ere he seemed to be at all firmly established in his new position. Mean- while i^'s. Lanover had done her best to give her two daughters a good education ; and as she her- self had been well brought up and was highly accomplished, she was fully competent thus to train and rear them. It is now necessai'y to observe that the remark- able simiUtude which existed between the twins in respect to their personal appearance, did not extend to their dispositions. Annabel was timid, shrinking, and bashfuWever anxious to avoid the chance of giving her father the slightest offence, or of incurring those terrible invectives and brutal upbraidings which*the most trivial circumstance would often eUcit. On the other hand, Violet was of an impatient spirit — haughty and petulant— and one which never would endure a wrong with- out rebelling against it. Thus at the age of thirteen she ah'eady began to show her father that she was by no means willing to put up tamely with his tyranny : scenes of violence often took place ; and if he threatened to beat her, she would snatch up the fii'st convenient object which came to hand, JOSEPH WILMOT ; OB, THE MEMOIRS Ol? A MAN-SEBYANT, noi merely in self-defence, but with a vow that if he dared to strike her she would strike again. Vainlj would the poor mother sometimes go down upon her knees and implore Violet to restrain her fierj' disposition: the girl's independence of spirit would neither yield to the despotism of a father nor ti the prayers of the mother. Nevertheless, in aU other respects, was she a dutiful and affec- tionate daughter towards the latter. It was when the twin-sisters were a little past fourteen, that an incident occurred which led to Violet's removal from home. One day Mr. Lan- over gave vent to a more than usually impetuous storm of passion ; and as his invectives were chiefly directed against Violet, she rebelled aa usual. Her own ire being desperately excited, she was neither the mistress of her words nor actions ; and in the wild excitement of her rage, she flung at her father a bitter taunt in respect to his past misdeeds, his ru'jied character, and the criminal prosecution 19 which had been instituted against him. Groaded to fury, he flew at her like a savage beast, and struck her to the floor. She sprang up, vnth flash- ing eyes, burning cheeks, and quivering frame; and catching at a large book, hurled it at him. The scene was altogether terrible ; and there was a moment when poor Mrs. Lanover and Annabel both feared that Violet would be murdered by her infuriate sire. The result was however a peremp- tory command from Mr. Lanover's lips that Violet should quit the house and never see him more. He declared that he discarded her — he threw her off — he abandoned her. Subsequently however, either through the earnest solicitations of the mother, or else through some remorse on the part of the father — a sort of compromise was entered into, to the effect that Violet should at once be sent away to a boarding-school. The arrangement was left to Mrs. Lanover, with the solemn under- standing that in les3 than three days Violet should 146 JOSEPH "WTLirOT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF A MA^-SEEVAXT. cease to be an inmate of the house, and that during the intejval she should not once re-appear in her father's presence. Violet was by no means sorry thus to escape from the sphere of the paternal tyranny ; and Mrs. Lanover lost no time in finding a school for her. It was a part of Mr. Lanover's stipulations that the seminary to be thus selected should be at a distance from London ; and one at Southampton was accordingly fixed upon. Thither Violet was removed ; but when her father sternly refused to see her ere she took her departure, her separation from her mother and sister was deeply aifecting. When she was gone, Mr. Lanover told his wife and Annabel that her name must never again be mentioned in his hearing — that he had sworn to discard her — and that his vow should be kept, with the single reserve that he would furnish his wife with the requisite sum for the girl's maintenance at school. While thus proclaiming his intentions, he worked himself up into one of those fits of un- governable rage which rendered him so terrible a man : and with fearful imprecations swore that if his wife or Annabel ever dared to breathe the Dame of Violet without those wails — if they ever spoke of her lo a third party — if they ever men- tioned to any new acquaintance they might form, that there was such a being in existence — he would visit them with all the power of hia displeasure. Such conduct on his part was a com^plete illus- tration of the man's hatefully vindictive cha- racter. This event, which caused the removal of Violet from the paternal home, took place in the early part of the year 1S36 ; and it was in September of that same year — consequently some seven or eight months later, that I became an inmate of Mr. Lanover's house on my abrupt removal fi-om Del- mar Manor. During the six weeks I remained in Great EusseU Street, the name of Violet was never mentioned by Mrs. Lanover or Annabel — at least not in my hearing. No doubt, when the mother and daughter were alone together, the tyrant's stern injunctions were disregarded; and trem- blingly and whisperingly they spoke of the absent one, mingling their tears at the thought of her being thus away from them. But there were more reasons than one wherefore, in my presence, all allusion to Violet was carefully avoided. In the first place there was the dread of its coming to Mr. Lanover's ears that they disobeyed a com- mand which he had uttered in so terrible a manner : in the second place there was the painfulness of speaking of one whose absence was so much de- plored ; and in the third place there was a very natiiraJ unwiUingnesB to give me any farther proof, beyond what my own actual experience taught me, of Mr. Lanover's fiend-hke disposition. The mother and Annabel could not possibly have spoken of Violet without giving me some explanation of her absence; and they would moreover have been compelled to conjure me to keep the secret in- violable, — all of which would have been most pain- ful, most humiliating, and most distressing to the minds of that amiable lady and her sweet- tempered daughter. Thus was it that during the six weeks of my sojourn beneath i£r. Lanover's roof, the name of Violet was never breathed in my hearing ; and I remained in total ignorance of such 6 being's existence. I now come to the circumstances of that me- morable night when, by Annabel's intervention and at her instigation, I fled from a dwellmg where a terrific peril seemed suddenly to menace me. The reader will remember that I was made a pri- soner in my own room, and that I heard Annabel steal forth from her chamber after the usual hour for retiring. It seems that from some words which her father had inadvertently let drop, in the shape of a threat relative to myself, she had been seized with a fearful suspicion that mischief was intended me : so that when a man was admitted into the house under somewhat mysterious circumstances, she formed the courageous but dangerous resolve of stealing down and listening at the door of the room where the interview took place between her father and that individual. They were speaking in a very subdued tone, but in an earnest manner; and she could only catch a few broken sentences. She however heard enough tc convince her that Mr. Lanover and his vile accomplice resolved upon making away with me. She learnt, too, that the wretch's name was Taddy; and from what she had previously heard me say of him, she knew that I regarded him with an immense loathing and horror, if not as a mortal enemy. The state of mind into which that young creature — then but little past fifteen — ^was thrown, by hearing her own father thus deUberately plotting and planning the most enormous of crimes, may be conceived but cannot be explained. No doubt the blood ran cold in her veins : no doubt she was for a space transfixed with direst horror at the door of that room. But she saw how desperate was my posi- tion ; and a fortitude of which she had scarcely believed herself capable, came to her aid. She stole away from the vicinage of the room where murder was thus being resolved upon : she went straight to her mother's chamber ; and to her did she reveal the sickening, harrowing, horrible tale. Mrs. Lanover could scarcely beheve her ears : but yet she knew that Annabel was incapable of de- ceiving her ; and mustering up all her own for- titude — thereby following her admirable daughter's example — she resolved that at any personal risk to themselves, I should be saved. But how ? My clothes had been taken away by Mr. Lanover : my room-door was locked — and the key had likewise remained in his keeping. In respect to the gar- ments, a plan was promptly hit upon, — it being determined that female raiment should be fur- nished to enable me to effect my flight. The great difficulty was therefore in respect to the key. Suddenly Annabel recollected that before the ar- rival of Taddy, her father had been drinking wine in the front parlour : it was just possible that he might have left the key on the mantel or the table there. Again she stole down stairs ; and her joy may be conceived when she found the object of her search upon the table. She returned to her mother, — stealing up the stau's like a spirit, and trembling with the cruellest terror lest her move- ments should be overheard in the room below. Mrs. Lanover then gave Annabel a sum of money wherewith to present me ; and being herself too ill to leave her couch and take any active part in the matter, she was compelled to trust the manage- ment of the proceeding to her daughter. I need not recapitulate the incidents which followed, as the reader is aware how my escape was effected. After Annabel had seen me safe from the house she stole back *^o her mother's chamber. There JOSEPH WH/MOT ; OB, THE MEMOIES OT A MAN-SERVAITF. 147 tbey deliberated— at the same time mingling their tears of soul-harrowing grief— what course they shoxUd adopt to shield themselves from the ven- geance of Mr. Lanovcr. It was impossible to think of taking the key down stairs again, and placing it where Annabel had found it : it would likewise be apparent to Mr. Lanover that without my clothes I could not possibly have eflected my escape unless succoured by some one inside the house. That the servants would have rendered such aid, Mr. Lanover would not for an instant suspect ; and thus the mother and daughter well knew that his thoughts would at once settle upon them. They themselves spoke seriously of quit- ting the house : for how could they possibly thence- forth regard, the one as a husband — the other as a father, a man whom they now knew to be capable of the blackest crime ? But Mrs. Lanover was chained by illness to her couch ; and moreover, she dreaded lest a removal from her husband's abode wovdd entail the direst poverty upon Anna- bel and Violet : for that Mr. Lanover would, under such circumstances, provide them with funds, or continue to furnish the means of maintaining Violet at school, was not to be thought of. In the midst of the most bewildering reflections and pain- ful deliberations, Mrs. Lanover and Annabel heard footsteps ascending the stairs : there were two persons — they knew them to be Mr. Lanover and Taddy — and the room which I had so recently left, was cautiously entered. What those two men thought or said — what they felt — and how they looked, on finding the room unoccupied, must be left to conjecture. They remained not there many minutes : they descended — and in about a quarter of an hour they went out together. Mr. Lanover remained away for the rest of the night : but whether in search of me — whether in deliberation with his accomplice — or whether engaged in any other pursuit, could only be surmised by his wretched wife and daughter, who passed that sleepless night together. In the morning he re- turned at breakfast-time : he said not a syllable of what had taken place : he did not allude to it — he did not mention my name : but his demeanour towards Annabel was that of a wild beast filled with a terrible rage which was nevertheless sub- dued and controlled. Some days elapsed ere he saw his wife, she being confined to her bed ; and when she was well enough to come down stairs again, he was equally reserved in his conduct towards her — but equally morose — and in that mood when the hxmian heart resembles a mine which needs but the faintest spark to make it explode. Perhaps he thought that his terrible in- tention towards myself had been penetrated ; and vile and unscrupulous though he were, he shrank from the idea of uttering a single word of invec- tive or of upbraiding — of menace or of abuse — which might lead his wife and daughter to pro- claim their knowledge that he was a miu'derer in design, if not in fact. Thus several days passed; and not a syllable was breathed by that man in respect to me. But now a new calamity fell upon the heads of IVIrs. Lanover and Annabel. The schoolmistress at Southampton wrote up to convey the astounding and distressing intelligence that Violet had disap- peared; and that there was too much reason to suspect she had been enticed away by two femaleu with whom she had been seen in earnest con- versation the day previous to her flight. Who those females were, the schoolmistress knew not. Violet had been severely reprimanded, and ordered to keep her chamber as a punishment, for issuing forth alone from the precincts of the establish- ment, and for talking with strangers. She had fled during the night ; and not the slightest trace could be obtained of her. Mrs. Lanover and An- nabel were almost distracted at this intelligence : and when the letter which conveyed it, was pre- sented to Mr. Lanovcr, he flew into a fui;ious passion, venting all his wrath upon those who were, as a matter of course, totally innocent of any share or complicity in the occurrence. He now declared that it was all the mother's fault that Violet had been sent away from home— that she (Mrs. Lanover) had not properly cui-bed her daughter's spirit, and had encouraged her to give way to those rebollioua demonstrations which led to her removal to Southampton. Then he turned round upon poor Annabel, — accusing her likewise of having fostered that spirit on the part of her sister; and thus did the ill-conditioned monster pour forth the vials of his infoi-iate feelings upon the heads of the innocent. In his mad ravings he let out that he had intended in about six months' time to have Violet home again, — his 2>ni-poso being to seek eligible matches in due course for both his daughters. Finally he set ofi" to South- ampton to make all possible inquiries concerning Violet, and endeavour to trace out the route she had taken. He remained away for about a fort- night, — never once writing to his wife the whole time ; but leaving her and Annabel in the most painful suspense. On his return, they saw imme- diately by his manner and his words, that his search had been fruitless ; and again did he vent all the fui-y of his wi-ath upon those guiltless heads. The disappearance of Violet, and the har- rowing conjectures which were necessarily con- nected therewith, proved the source of the bitterest affliction which Mrs. Lanover and Annabel had ever yet known. But in working out this narrative, it will now be necessary to take a temporary leave of those unhappy beings, and foUow the footsteps of Violet. The school at which she had been placed, was one where a most rigid discipline was exercised — a discipline which frequently merged into downi-ight tyranny ; and this treatment was not likely to pass unreseuted by one of Violet's impatient and inde- pendent spirit. The consequence was that her position became a most uncomfortable one — the more so as it was utterly useless to appeal to her parents to remove her elsewhere : for she knew that no such appeal would be received by her father, even if she could so far himible herself as to make it — while on the other hand, her mother had not the power to act of her own free will in the matter. On several occasions Violet, in total contravention of the school's regulations, wandered forth from the garden into some adjacent fields; and for these derelictions she was frequently punished. But she longed to be free ; and chas- tisement only rendered her all the more impatient of control, without breaking her of her rebellious habits. In one of those wanderings she fell' in with a couple of females belonging to a troop of itinerant performers temporarily sojourning at 14S JOSEPH WTLMOT; OB, THE MEMOntS OP A MAN-BEHVANT. Southampton. They got into conversation with her : they spoke to her of the pleasures of the life they led — the variety of scenes which they beheld — the applause which greeted them at the theatres where they performed — and the constant novelty and excitement which belonged to their roving state of existence. Violet, with a. headstrong dis- position, was thoroughly inexperienced in the ways of the world : she was of a lofty spirit and of im- petuous character, but knew nothing of the perils into which such attributes might lead her. She received as gospel every word which the two actresses uttered; and she w:as at once smitten with the charms of that free, independent, roving life which was depicted to her in such fascinating colours. Nevertheless, she thought of home — or rather of two beings there, — her mother and An- nabel : and the recollection of their beloved images held her back. On that occasion she gave no de- cisive answer to the two actresses ; but merely pro- mised to find an opportunity of seeing them again on the morrow. On the following day she stole forth again from the precincts of the seminary; and was speedily joined by the two women. This time they were accompanied by a flashily-dressed man, who was introduced to Violet as the manager of the com- pany. He no doubt came to see whether the re- presentations which had been made to him by his two actresses, were perfectly correct, and that the j young maiden was indeed the rare specimen of seraphic loveliness, aerial lightness, and sylphid grace she had no doubt been described to him. That he must have at once coincided with the views of the two women in foreseeing that Violet would prove an immense acquisition to his dramatic corps, may of course be surmised. Violet fancied him to be an elegantly-dressed and most agreeable man : the theatrical trinkets with which he was bedizened, she took for real solid jewellery; and she conceived his bowings and scrapings, his bland smiles and his inflated speeches, to be the evidences of polished gentility. She had been taught danc- ing at school, and was already a proficient in the art : for where the mind is passionately attached to a particular accomplishment, and there is a taste for it, a degree of perfection is soon attained. The manager and the actresses gleaned from her that she was thus skilled; and the knowledge of that fact no doubt made them resolve to obtain at any risk the services of so lovely a creature, whose sylph-like appearance alone was sufficient to pro- duce a startling efi'ect upon the stage. To be brief, Violet yielded to their representations — fell into their views — and accepted their proposals. Thoughts of home were so far banished from her mind, that while she endeavoured to throw into the background those two loved images which should have prompted a negative to the cajolery of the beguilers, — she prominently brought forward that other dreaded and almost hated image, the bare recollection of which was sufficient to lead to an affirmative. On the following day she met the two actresses again, and this time they were not accompanied by the manager. The present interview was to settle the arrangements for her flight ; and these were made. On re-entering the seminary after this in- terview, she was accused of having been out and of having spoken to strangers ; and she was ordered to her own room as a punishment. But little recked Violet for the upbraidings she thus re- ceived, and the penalty which her fault had en- tailed: for she felt that she stood upon tho threshold of freedom. Indeed, if anything had been required to strengthen her resolve in what she considered the accomplishment of her self- emancipation, it would have been those upbraidings and that chastisement. At midnight she stole forth from the seminary — that young creature of little more than fifteen — and joined the two women who were waiting for her at the place of appoint- ment. A sort of covered spring cart was ready at a little distance ; and in this vehicle did Violet and her companions journey to some town fifteen or sixteen miles distant, whither the remainder of the company had repaired on the day previous. And now commenced Violet's theatrical career. She retained her Christian name, the manager as- suring her it was a most captivating one ; but she altered the surname for that of Mortimer. She did not make her first appearance until the company was at least a hundred miles away from South- ampton ; and thus all trace of her was lost, when her father journeyed to that town to make inquiries concerning his fugitive daughter. The manager was a married man ; and his wife was considered to be a respectable woman. They took Violet to live entirely with them, — keeping her as much apart as possible from the rest of the company. They foresaw that she woxild prove a star of im- mense attraction ; and they wished to retain her as much as they could under their own influence, and prevent her from forming any connexion which, at the caprice of another individual, might sever her from their troop and take her over to some rival itinerant company. Perhaps, too, there might have been a certain amount of proper feeling on the part of the manager's wife — if not on that of the manager himself — in respect to the care which ought to be taken of a young, inexperienced, and unsuspicious creature who had been beguiled away from a seminary. But whatever the motives, cer- tain it is that Violet was guarded with as much jealous vigilance as could possibly be exercised under the circumstances; and as she lived alto- gether with the manager and his wife, it was not immediately that she became exposed to the cor- rupting influences of the career on which she had entered, or that she had to experience any of its struggles and ups and downs. Having for two or three weeks gone through a proper course of training for theatrical dancing— and having applied herself to the study with the unwearying zeal of an absolute passion — she quickly became proficient ; or at all events suffi- ciently so to make her appearance upon the board* of a provincial theatre. Her success was great ; and the local press spoke rapturously of her. The exquisite beauty of her person — the radiant love- liness of her countenance — the sylphid symmetry of her shape — the statue-like modelling of her limbs — together with the elegance and grace of her movements, more natural than acquired,— -all combined to render her a star of great attraction and ensure her triumph. The manager's treasury quickly experienced the advantage; and as liia profits were thus considerable, he was enabled to provide his heroine with such comforts and even luxiu:ies at the inns where thoy stopped in the pro- JOSEPH WTLMOT; OH, THB 1CEM0IE3 OP A MAK-SEEVAKT. 149 Tincial towns, that the representations originally made to induce her to leave school, were to a con- siderable extent realized. But it was impossible that all the vigilance of the manager and his wife could shield Violet Mor- timer from those evil influences already alluded to. When behind the scenes, she was frequently sub- ject to the libertine addresses of gay and dissipated young men who obtained access thither, and whom the manager could not possibly shut out, for fear lest a cabal should be formed against him. More- over, Violet frequently beheld scenes betwixt other actresses and some of those rakish interlopers — her ear, too, frequently caught language, which gra- dually imdermined the natural purity of her thoughts ; and she had not been many weeks in. her new career, when — with the age of a girl, and still with the chastity of one— she had the expe- riences of a woman. But I will not keep the nar- rative lingering over this painful subject. Suffice it to say, it was imder such evil auspices as these that the company arrived at that town in Devon- shire where I was destined to behold Violet upon the stage and to take her for Annabel. It was at the end of January, 1837 — just three months after her flight from school — that Violet appeared in tfaat town. I need not recapitulate incidents which have already been fully detailed: but I must give a few succinct explanations. The reader wiM recollect how I passed behind the scenes, and how I beheld Violet listening to the guileful language which Sir Malcolm Wavenham was J breathing in her ear. This was the second time he had sought her there. On the preceding evening he had introduced himself to her — and had hinted at certain overtures : but on this second occasion his language was bolder. He spoke of his wealth — of his power to surround her with all the elegances and luxuries of life : he laughed to scorn the shackles of the marriage ceremony : he declared that he could love well and fondly in a state of freedom — but that under the influence of rivetted bonds, a man's affection in- variably cooled down as if at the contact of chilling iron chains. Violet listened : she was dazzled by his joSers ; and yet she did not at once give tiirn encouragement. Her answer was postponed. He left her ; and then I accosted that fair creature whom I believed to be Annabel. By this name did I address her : and no wonder was it that she started — no wonder that she suddenly burst into tears, and that she fled precipitately. A thousand emotions had been all in an instant excited in her bosom. The images of her mother and sister — those images which for months past she had en- deavoured to banish from her mental view — were vividly conjured up in a moment : remorse, anguish, shame, despair, and a strong yearning to behold once again that affectionate mother and that loved sister, agitated in her heart. She hurried to her dressing-room. The reader will recollect that I sent in my name, begging to see her once more. For a moment she was inclined to grant my re- quest, and learn how it was that I was acquainted with her sister whose name had been thrown at her, and for whom she naturally fancied she had been taken. But she felt that the die was cast, and that it was impossible to retrograde from the career in which she had entered. Perhaps, too, the dazzling overtures so recently made to her by the dissipated young Baronet, intervened with an influence like that of the genius of evU ; and her mind was speedily made up. She would see no one who could speak to her of the past — that past over which she dared not retrospect, and whence she felt it was her destiny to avert her eyes in order to keep them fixed only upon the future. She accordingly sent out a message to the effect that she declined seeing me, and that she knew not the name of Joseph Wilmot — which was in- deed the truth. A few days afterwards she fled with Sir Mal- colm Wavenham, leaving the manager and his troop in perfect consternation and dismay at her sudden disappearance. The Baronet bore his prize to Wavenham Park, which was situated at a very short distance from the village of Charlton. There he kept his word, so far as the surrounding her with aU luxuries and elegances — making her the mistress of his extensive establishment — gratifying her slightest whims and caprices — and taking a pride in decking her with the costliest garments and the most expensive jewels. He taught her to ride on horseback ; and the most beautiful steeds were purchased for her use. But Violet was not altogether happy : indeed the happiness which she did experience, was merely an unnatural excite- ment of the spirits at certain times, to be fol- lowed by intervals of despondency. She frequently thought of her mother and sister : her growing ex- perience of the world made her aware of the im- mense errors she had committed— first in leaving her school to appear upon the public stage, and subsequently in abandoning herself to Sir Malcolm Wavenham. She longed to write to her mother or to Annabel : but she dared not. What could she say to them ? Proclaim her disgrace — parade the siunptuousness of the home of her dishonour- able choice — and thus prove to them that she was lost ? No : better far to leave them in suspense and uncertainty as to her fate ! — better even to suffer them to think she was dead, than thus make them acquainted with the very worst ! But her thoughts of those loved ones, and her regrets at the false step she had taken, were not the only sources of Violet's imhappiness. She had not been many months under the protection of Sir Malcolm Wavenham, when her eyes began to open to the fact that he was unfaithful to her : she obtained unquestionable proofs of his depravity elsewhere; and though he continued to surround her with all luxuries, and to minister to her slightest wants, she found that she had really no hold upon his af- fections — that he was volatile — fond of variety in his amours — and that he was now reaching that point at which a man frequently retains a beauti- ful mistress to make a parade of her, in order to flatter his own vanity, rather than as an object of companionship and love. Violet's spirit was not likely to endure with tameness this conduct on his part : she upbraided him bitterly : he vowed that her accusations were false, and that she was a prey to an imwarranted jealousy. She said no more upon that occasion — but determined to keep upon the watch. I now come to a very memorable day in my narrative — the 23rd of Jime, 1837, — five months having by this time elapsed since Violet became the mistress of Sir Malcolm Wavenham. On that day, be it remembered, — when on a visit to Charl- 150 JOSEPH WTILIIOT ; OR, THE MEMOIBS OF A HAK-SEBTANT. ton Tillage, to make inquiries concerning poor Eate AUen, and also relative to Miss Delmar, I beheld Sir Malcolm Wavenham and Violet, at- tended by a groom, dash, past on horseback. Still believing her to be Annabel, I called out her name. It appears — though I knew it not at the time — that she did hear me — she did recognise me at once as the same who had accosted her at the theatre. She however swept by without appearing either to hear or to notice me : she even forced herself to talk gaily and blithely to her companion, though the mention of her sister's name had made the worm of remorse uncoil in her bosom and fix its fangs upon her heart's most sensitive chord. On returning to "Wavenham Park, she ascer- tained in the course of the day — both by a letter which Sh* Malcolm accidentally left lying about, and by overhearing some verbal message which he sent by a faithful valet, — that he had an appoint- ment for that same evening in the village of Charl- ton — an appointment which was little flattering to the pride or agreeable to the feelings of Violet. She said not a word: she suffered him not to perceive she knew what was going on ; but she resolved to watch his movements — to unmask him — and to ful- minate her wrath against her rustic rival. He stated that he was going out to dinner : and that it was very probable he should pass the night at the house of the friend whose hospitality he was to enjoy. Violet kept her coimtenance — and the Baronet went forth. She knew very well that, for the sake of appearances, he would go and dine vrith the friend whom he had named, and who Uved close by Charlton — and that he would also remain there until past ten o'clock. At about that hour she issued from the mansion. The night was serenely beautiful and brilliantly starUt, as the reader will remember I described it to be when I visited the churchyard on that same memorable Midsummer Eve. Indeed the weather was so genial that Violet retained the light summer-dress which she had assumed when returning from her ride ; and her shawl was also of a light colour. These facts were mentioned, with aU other minute details, in that narrative of her's which has furnished ma- terials for the chapter which I am now writing. She reached Charlton at about eleven o'clock, — the village being but the distance of a pleasant walk from Wavenham Pai-k, She watched in the neighbourhood of the dwelling which she expected to see Sir Malcolm enter : but the time passed on — and he appeared not. It will be as well here to observe that the joviality of the party whom he met at his friend's house, led him on to such an excessive use of the bottle, that he became inca- pable of keeping his appointment elsewhere. It was close upon midnight when Violet decided upon giving up the watch, and returning home. She knew that there was a short cut thi-ough the churchyard : and having no superstitious fears, she hesitated not to take it. But upon entering that churchyard, thoughts of a solemn contexture arose in her mind. Only a few hours back her sister's name, thrown forth from my lips, had smitten her ear : it had gone down into her heart with the force of a remorse. She thought too of her mother; and as she beheld the turf-covered graves aroimd, and the tombstones seeming ghastly in the starlight, indescribable emotions rose up in her bosom : for she said to herself that her disappearance, the uncertainty of what had become of her— or perhaps even worse, the knowledge of what Jiad become of her — might have sent down that loving mother of her's heartbroken to the grave ! She seated herself on a flat tombstone, and wept bitterly. Her soul was in the excru- ciations of poignant remorse : profoundly did she repent the past : she would have given worlds to recall it ; and her mental tortures were aggravated by the conviction that she had abandoned her- self to a man who appreciated not the sacrifice she had made, but who recompensed it with the ingratitude of infidelity. "While she sat there, upom the tombstone, she felt an inclination to pray — an inclination which she had not experi- enced for a long, long time past. It was while in this state of mind that she beheld two men ap- proaching, both of them carrying masons' tools. They were at first startled, and even frightened on beholding her there, — looking Uke a spirit in her Hght dress, as she sat upon the tombstone : but she spoke to them — and they then recognised her as the young lady who dwelt at "Wavenham Park. It appeared that one was the sexton — the other a mason — and that a vault was to be that night opened in the church, to receive the remains of a scion of the family to which it belonged, and who was to be buried on the ensuing morning. The fimeral had for some reason been accelerated a day earlier than was originally intended; and the notice of this change had only been sent to the sexton at a late hour on this particular even- ing. He could not immediately find the mason who was wont to assist him on such occasions as this ; and hence their visit to the church when it was so closely bordering upon midnight. These explanations were given by the garrulous sexton to Violet ; and of course the reader wiU imderstand that the scene which I am describing must have taken place on one side of the church, while I was advancing towards it on the other side. Violet was a singular being ; her mind was of no ordinary contexture; and she was in one of those moods, from the circumstances already ex- plained, which rendered such a mind as her's strangely, wildly fanciful. She had longed to pray : — for many, many months no prayer had passed her lips : she thought it would soothe and solace her now ; and that it would be a species of homage to those recollections of the past which were associated with a mother who had reared her in that religious and virtuous path from which she had strayed. She intimated to the sexton that she would enter the church with him; and the fee which she shpped into his hand, prevented him from putting any impertinent questions. Doubtless he thought it a whim or caprice on the part of the young lady : at all events, he had no remonstrance to offer. The church-door was opened — and Violet passed into the edifice, which, though in the neighbourhood of the Park, she now visited for the first time. The moonlight was streaming in full through the windows, — making the place look so bright and so silvery cold, and rendering every object completely visible. Violet observed in which direction the sexton and his companion proceeded, and she went in another. As she passed along the aisle, it struck her that she observed some one looking through a window ; and she tm'ned her countenance towards that case- JOSEPH WTLMOT ; OE, THE JIEMOrBS OF A MAlT-SEEVAJTr. 151 ment. According to her own belief, the indivi- dual fled with a cry of alarm : but this apparent disappearance was, as the reader may suppose, pro- duced by the fact that I fell down senseless. She took no farther notice of the incident, and after remaining in the church for some little while, sped back to "Wavenham Park. On the following day she very candidly told Sir Malcolm how she had gone forth to watch him ; for she thought that he might hear it whispered that she had been seen at the midnight hour in the village — and she would not allow him to suppose that she had any other purpose in view than the one which had really taken her thither. Then was it that she learnt how the Baronet had remained all night at his friend's house : for he vowed and protested that so far from having any appointment to keep, he had en- joyed himself so thoroughly as to pass the bounds of moderation. The narrative must now return to Violet's rela- tives in London. Many months had elapsed since they learnt the intelligence of her disappearance from the boarding-school at Southampton; and during this interval they had received not any tidings of her. It is scarcely necessary to observe that Mrs. Lanover and Annabel were both a prey to the utmost suspense on Violet's account; and they did even sometimes think that she must be dead, inasmuch as she had never sent them a single lirvc ; nor had Mr. Lanover succeeded in obtaining the slightest clue as to what had become of her. It was at the end of September of that same year — namely, 1837 — that Mr. Lanover one day informed Annabel that she was to make preparations to accompany him in a journey upon which he should set out on the following morning. The announce- ment was made with so much abruptness that both Annabel and her mother were not merely sur- prised, but even alarmed: for Mr. Lanover, in- stead of volunteering the least explanation, had put on his hat and immediately quitted the house. Annabel's mother was very iU at the time : indeed she bad been getting worse and worse ever since that period when two blows struck her, the one so closely following the other — I mean the knowledge that her husband had meditated the crime of mur- der, and the disappearance of Violet. She herself, being thus very ill, could not have xmdertaken a journey, even if she had been asked — but she was Tiot : Annabel was to go alone with her father. The mother and daughtci" naturally bewildered themselves in conjectures as to what the object of the journey could be : but it was impossible to arrive at any conclusion — and equally impossible [ for Annabel to think of remonstrating with her I father against being taken away from her mother [ while the latter stood in so much need of her ^ ministrations and attentions. Accordingly she set off with Mr. Lanover on the following morning ; and on reaching the coach-office, they took their places in a stage bound for Exeter. Throughout the journey Mr. Lanover gave not a syllable of explanation to Annabel as to his motive in under- J taking it : and she dared not question him. They ' arrived at Exeter, and took up their quarters at a Becond-rate hotel. On the day after they reached that city, Mr. Lanover bade Annabel dress herself in her best apparel, and accompany him to make a ' call upon a family to whom he was desirous of in- troducing her. They set out together — and pre- 1 sently stopped in front of a handsome haberdashery shop, over the door of which shone the name of Dobbins in large gilt letters. Mr. Lanover bade Annabel wait outside for a few moments while he entered first. It was during the brief interval the young lady was thus waiting for her father, that I suddenly encountered her, as described in an earlier chapter. She was delighted to see me; and I, utterly ignorant of the distinction between Annabel and Violet, addressed her in those terms which were duly recorded in their place, and which were to the effect that she was dear to me under any circum- stances in which she might be placed. She was naturally at a loss to comprehend what I meant by so singular a mode of expression : but stiU more bewildered was she when I asked her " whe- ther she had altogether " the sentence stop- ping short there ; for I had not dared to complete the question. I meant "whether she had alto- gether broken off with Sir Malcolm Wavenham ?" and methought that she must naturally compre- hend me. But she did not : — how could she ? and it was no wonder that she eyed me strangely — no wonder she bent upon me a look which I could not possibly comprehend at the time. The next instant I had to ny precipitately : for Annabel perceived her father issuing forth from the shop. That same evening, while proceeding to my new place at Myrtle Lodge, I saw Violet in the Baronet's carriage, which had stopped at the public-house by the way-side ; and naturally be- lieviag that it was Annabel who had fled from her father in order to return to her lover, I gave vent to an ejaculation of mingled grief and astonish- ment. Violot saw and recognised me : but she was as much at a loss to comprehend the meaning of my words as Annabel had been a few hours previously. It would farther appear that it was only a coincidence that the Baronet and Violet had been at Exeter at the same time as Mr. Lanover and Annabel — ^but the two sisters had not met — had not seen each other — and were ignorant at the time that they were so near. But this narrative of explanations must now go back to Annabel herself, whom I left at the door of Mr. Dobbins' shop. Immediately after I fled in the precipitate manner which has been de- scribed, the young lady recovered her composure as well as she was able ; and her father desired her to enter the shop. The spacious warehouse was threaded; and they passed into a parlour at the back, — where an elderly man, with a disagree- able countenance and a sinister expression of the eyes, was seated. He was introduced to Annabel as Mr. Dobbins, the proprietor of the establish- ment ; and the young lady thought that he sur- veyed her in a somewhat peculiar manner — so that she felt both annoyed and confused. No business was discussed between Mr. Dobbins and Mr. Lanover : the conversation was on general sub- jects ; and as Annabel only spoke when actually comrpeUed to give answers to the haberdasher's remarks, her father bent scowling looks upon her, as if to give her to understand that she had better try to make herself a little more amiable. The interview lasted about half-an-hour ; and Annabel was then conducted back to the hotel by her father. On the following day they dined with Mr. Dobbins, who, it appeared, was a widower and 152 JOSEPH WILMOT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SEBTANT. had seyeral children, but all g^own up, provided for, and settled in various ways. The sojourn at Exeter lasted exactly a week ; and every day visits were paid to this Mr. Dobbins : but at the end of that period, Mr. Lanover abruptly bade Annabel prepare for departure ; and they returned to Lon- don, — the young lady being no wiser as to the object of the journey than she was when she first set off upon it. The narrative now passes on to the close of that same year, and pauses for a moment at the Christ- mas season. Violet had during the interval re- ceived fresh proofs of Sir Malcolm Wavenham's infidelity towards her ; and she obtained the private intelligence that he had a house situated in a lonely spot — at no great distance from Exeter — which he frequently rendered available for his profligate amours. Her high and proud spirit was more than ever chafed at these addi- tional evidences of his heartless depravity ; and she was resolved to avenge herself by doing her best to defeat whatsoever profligate designs he might have in other quarters. On one occasion Sir Malcolm had business to transact at Exeter ; and he proposed that thev should pass a week there. Thither they accoi'dingly repaired, taking their saddle-horses with them, in addition to the travelling equipage ; and they put up at the prin- cipal hotel in the city. The very day after their arrival, Sir Malcolm sent a hastily written note in the evening to Violet, to the effect that he had fallen in with a friend residing a few miles distant — that this friend had insisted upon taking him home to dinner — and that it was very probable he should not return to the hotel until the next morning. Violet did not believe a single syllable contained in this note ; and her resolve was speedily taken. Apparelling herself in her riding- habit, she ordered her horse to be gotten in readi- ness; and having made certain inquiries of the hotel-servants as to the exact situation of a par- ticular house, she rode off alone in that direction. She reached the place ; and, as the reader has seen, arrived just in time to rescue Charlotte Murray from the power of Sir Malcolm Wavenham. The result of this exposure of her lover's perfidy, was an inflexible determination on her part to leave him ; and despite his entreaties to the contrary — despite his solemn tows and protestations that his conduct should amend for the future — she carried her resolve into execution. On thus breaking off her connexion with Sir Malcolm, she would not take away with her any of the costly jewels which he had so profusely lavished upon her : — nothing but a requisite supply of apparel, and the ready money which she had in her possession, would she consent to keep ; and this proceeding was perfectly consistent with the proud spirit of Violet Lanover. She retired into the seclusion of a little village, a few miles distant from Exeter ; and there dwelt in a humble and virtuous manner. She had some forty or fifty pounds in her possession at the time that she separated from Sir Malcolm ; and by dis- pensing her resources sparingly, she made them suffice for several months. But the unfortunate girl was in a way to become a mother ; and as the time drew near, she found her funds close upon exhaustion. She knew not what to do : her spirit revolted at the thought of applying to Sir Malcolm Wavenham : but when she reflected that he was the father of her yet unborn babe, she came to the conclusion that it was her duty to ensure the expected offspring, and herself also for the child's sake, against the pangs of want. During this in- terval of more than five months, she had kept the place of her seclusion a secret from the Baronet : indeed, she had not once corresponded with him since they parted. But now she wrote to him at Wavenham Park. A few days elapsed, during which she received no answer; and the agonizing thought that he had altogether abandoned her, was strengthening in her mind, when a letter came. It was dated from Salisbury, and informed her that Sir Malcolm had been staying there for the last month — that her communication had been for- warded to him from Wavenham Park — and hence the delay in sending the response. It was couched in terms more affectionate than Violet had even expected — stated that all requisite arrangements should be at once made to ensure her comfort in the approaching crisis — and that he would be with her on the day following that on which she would receive his letter. He kept his word : but when he sought to address her in a loving strain, she assured him that theaceforth they could only be friends — nothing more ; that she bitterly repented of her errors, and was firmly resolved to atone for the past as much as possible by her future conduct. He informed her that he had made certain arrange- ments with Dr. Pomfret at Salisbury; and that though the distance thither from her present place of abode was so great, he hoped she would be en- abled to accomplish it, as his travelling-corriago should take her by easy stages. She accepted the proposal ; and two or three days afterwards entered the doctor's establishment in the night-time. This was in the early part of June, and within about a fortnight of the anniversary of that Mid- sunmier's Eve when I had seen her in the church- It appears that Sii' Malcolm Wavenham promised to behave most honourably to her, and to settle upon her an adequate income for the maintenance of herself and the expected babe ; and as a proof of his good intentions he left a liberal sum in the hands of Dr. Pomfret, with strict injunctions that no expense was to be spared in rendering Violet as comfortable as possible. But when he proposed to call upon her occasionally, she was resolute in. insisting that their connexion should remain se- vered—an alternative to which the Baronet was forced to assent. Days passed on ; and Mrs. Pomfret gave Violet as much of her society as she thought the young lady needed for the sake of companionship. It never transpired in the course of conversation that a youth named Joseph Wilmot was a page in the doctor's service : and therefore Violet remained in total ignorance that I was beneath the same roof. Moreover, we never once caught a glimpse of each other, inasmuch as she kept constantly to her own apartments, as I have already stated. But as the time drew near when she was to pass through the most painful ordeal which belongs to the lot of woman, the images of her mother and sister were more frequently present to her mind : she longed to communicate with them — she dreaded lest death might snatch her away from this world without her ever again beholding those beloved ones — and in a mood of the deepest contrition for the past, she sat down and penned a long letter to her JOSEPH WILMOT; OE, THE MEMOIES OF A MAN-SERTAXT 153 mother. In this letter she gave a complete nar« rative of everything that had occurred to her since her flight from the boarding-school at Southamp- ton: and it may easily be comprehended how, having so much time hanging heavily on her hands in the seclusion of her apartments at the doctor's house, she elaborated her letter into the minutest details. Besides — as she expressed her- self in this letter — " it was a relief to her mind to avow everything;" so that the epistle constituted a complete record of all the incidents, thoughts, feelings, and emotions which she had experienced from the date of her leaving Southampton up to the moment that she was then writing. This letter was finished on the 20th of June ; and it was the one given to me to put into the post, — Violet little thinking at the time through whose hands it was thus passing. By some unaccoimt- able delay in its transmission through the post- office, it did not reach Mrs. Lanover until the 20 morning of the 23rd. Mr. lanover was on the Continent, — engaged in some business the nature of which was entirely unknown to his wife and Annabel, whom, as usual, he chose to keep in the dark relative to his proceedings. The affliction which the narrative of frailty excited in the minds of the mother and daughter may be easily con- ceived : but still they were not altogether unpre- pared for the tale of Violet's dishonour — as it was impossible to imagine that the course she had taken in flying from school nearly two years back, could have been otherwise than the first step towards her ruin. But still there was this consolation — that she was deeply penitent, and that she had solenmly determined to make such atonement for the past as her future good conduct could render, Mrs. Lanover was chained by illness to her bed ; and this illness was so severe, that she dared not attempt to undertake a journey. Annabel was therefore at once sent off to Salisbury in order to 154 JOSEPH VniiMOT; OB, THE MEITOIES OE A MiN-SEBVANT. assure lier erring but repentant sister of a mother's forgiveness. Alas ! she reached not the doctor's house imtil the morning of the 24th; and during the preceding night her sister Violet had perished in giving birth to a dead babe. The grief of Annabel was for some hours of the most distracting nature : but by degrees she grew more composed ; and in due course she learnt, with infinite surprise, that I was an inmate of the doctor's house. The wild scene which had occurred within a few minutes after Violet had breathed her last, and in which I figfured in a manner so \mac- countable to those who beheld my conduct, was mentioned to Annabel ; and she at once explained the mystery by stating that I was her cousin. In- asmuch as I had passionately ejacidated her own name — that name of Annabel — when jQinging my- self on my knees by the side of the couch, she at once comprehended the error into which I had fallen, and that I had mistaken Violet for herself. Then also she understood for the first time the meaning of my singular conduct towards her when we met at Exeter ; and ehe naturally longed for the time to come when I might be disabused of an impression so little favourable to her own immacu- late virtue. That I was treated so kindly by the Pomfrets during my illness — that the nurse ori- ginally engaged for Violet, was retained to attend upon me — that the doctor himself forbore from aught bordering on reproach for my conduct on the night of Violet's death — and that Annabel had been enabled, without the risk of being taxed with impropriety, to pay me frequent visits in my chamber, — all these circumstances were now fully comprehensible ; inasmuch as the Pomfrets had been informed that I was the cousin of the two sisters. Annabel had of course tarried until after the funeral of the unfortunate Violet ; and she lin- gered longer still beneath that roof, in order that she might have speech with me when I should return to a state of consciousness. I should add that Dr. Pomfret communicated the circumstance of Violet's death to Sir Malcolm Wavenham, who was then at his own mansion near Charlton in Devonshire ; and it was delicately intimated that as Violet's sister was at the house, it would proba- bly be better if the Baronet did not make his appearance there, but shoxdd entrust to the phy- sician himself all the arrangements for the funeral. These suggestions were didy adopted by Sir Mal- colm Wavenham ; and there can be no doubt that Dr. Pomfi-et had every reason to be satisfied with the Baronet's liberality, inasmuch as his own con- duct and that of his wife was most courteous and kind towards Annabel — and, for her sake, towards me as her cousin. CHAPTER XXXIL CHELTENHAM. As I have already stated, the above narrative has been compiled from the contents of the packet which Annabel left behind her, and which Dr. Pomfret placed in my hands when I became con- valescent, I win not pause to describe the varied emotions with which I perused Annabel's letter and the one which Violet had written to her mother : but I cannot resume the thread of my own nar- rative without observing that I was fiUed with solemn sensations, and indeed awful feelings, when I reflected how Violet had sunk into the arms of death in the very last hour of the year which dated from that memorable Midsummer's Eve when I beheld her through the window of Charlton Church. Her appearance there had nothing superstitioxis in it : it was she herself, in the veritable flesh and blood, whom I had seen on the occasion : but there did appear something stupendously preternatural in the fact that the incident should have been really prophetic of her doom, in compliance with the very superstition itself which had prompted me to pay that visit to the village church. Those who read this narrative, may account for it as a coinci- dence — ^as a mere accidental occurrence : but to me it wore the aspect of something providential; and even as I think of it now, with a matured intelli- gence and with ideas sobered down from everything savouring of youthful enthusiasm, I can view it in no less serious Hght. I now resume the thread of my narrative. The reader will recollect I had fiiithfully promised Annabel that I would leave Dr. Pomfret's service as soon as possible ; — and not merely because I had given this pledge, but likewise for my own sake, was I anxious to get away fr"om Salisbury, so as to avoid any possibility of again falling into the hands of Mr. Lanover. Being now convalescent, I took the earliest opportunity of expressing to Dr. Pomfret my wish to remove elsewhere. He attributed this desire on my part to a natural dis- taste to remain beneath a roof where my cousia had died under such mournful circumstances ; and I did not choose to inform him that there were other and stronger motives influencing me in that respect. He asked me if I thought fit to remaia a month longer, or if I wished to leave at once ? — and I decided upon the latter alternative, at the same time expressing my gratitude for the kind- ness I had received during my illness. He in- quired whither I was going? — and not knowing exactly how to answer, I said that I should retiu'n into Devonshire, where I had some few acquaint- ances who might help me to another situation. I requested him to give me a written character, which might be added to my other testimonials j and with this demand he willingly complied : for he had no doubt been so well paid on behalf of poor Violet, as to think it but right and proper to behave with kindness towards her cousin. Besides, this kindness cost the physician nothing ; and I knew that the written testimonial I solicited, waa no more than I deserved. On the second morning after the perusal of the contents of Annabel's packet, I took leave of Dr. and Mrs. Pomfret and my fellow-servants, and re- paired to the coach-ofEce, a porter bringing my bos. I knew not in which direction to proceed — whether north, east, south, or west. I might have imitated the pilgrims and the mendicants of the olden time, who, setting up a stafi" on one end, let it fall, and then bent their way in the direction thus indicated. To one thing however I made up my mind : and this was not to go into Devonshire, for the very reason that I had told the doctor I was about to proceed thither. I was in a mortal terror of Mr. Lanover whenever I thought of him ; and the details of Annabel's narrative had by no JOSEPH WILMOT ; OE, THE MEMOIUS OE A MAN-SEEVANT, 155 means tended to mitigate the dread which I thus entertained of that man's unscrupulous character. I therefore wished to get as far beyond his reach as possible ; and when I heard in the coach-ofSce, almost immediately upon entering, that a stage was about to leave for Cheltenhamj I resolved upon re- pairing thither. To be brief, I arrived safely in that fashionable watering-place ; and taking up my quarters at a modest but respectable lodging-house to which I was recommended by the coachman, I remained there about a fortnight, in order to recruit my health fully before I sought for a new situation. I had plenty of ready money, and was therefore en- abled to enjoy this interval of rest : for I knew full well that it would be useless to apply for employ- ment if I presented a pale and sickly appearance. That fortnight completely restored me : the colour came back to my cheeks — I felt strong and vigor- ous once again. I then resolved to sally forth, and inquire at the most respectable shops for any intelligence which I might be enabled to obtain of such a situation as I wanted. It was about noon that I was proceeding along one of the principal streets, when I was struck by an elegant little pony-equipage that was approach- ing. A lady was driving ; and in the box behind a youthful groom, or " tiger," was seated. As it drew nearer, I recognised in the fair driver none other than Lady Calanthe Dimdas. This recogni- tion was mutual ; and she instantaneously stopped her little equipage. I cotdd not do otherwise than halt also; and raised my hat with respectful politeness: but I felt that I would much rather have avoided this encounter. I was well but plainly dressed ; and having a genteel appearance, might have passed for something much better than I really was in respect to my social grade. Lady Calanthe, with a blush mantling upon her cheeks, and joy swimming in her large dark eyes, proffered her hand, — saying, " Mr. Wihnot, I am very glad to see you :" — then turning to the youthful tiger, she exclaimed, " By the bye, I forgot to call at the stationer's shop yonder. Hasten you and order paper, envelopes, and sealing-wax, to be sent home in the course of the day." The groom, — evidently suspecting not that this was a mere stratagem on Lady Calanthe's part to enable her to have a few moments' private con- versation with myself, — leapt down from his seat, touched his hat, and hurried away. " Joseph," said her ladyship, the instant he was beyond ear-shot, " it is absolutely necessary we should have an interview 1 beseech you to meet me this evening at nine o'clock — under those trees which you perceive at the end of this street. You must come do not deem the step I am taking indelicate : but it is of the highest import- ance I should converse with you unrestrainedly for a few minutes. And now leave me." I hurried away in obedience to her words : in- deed I was so full of confusion, and so bewildered by the rapidly-uttered appointment she had given, that I was not the master of my own actions. The groom re-appeared from the stationer's shop almost at the same instant ; and as I looked back, I saw the elegant equipage pursuing its way. When I was somewhat recovered from the agita- tion and trouble into which I had been thrown, I deliberated with myself whether I ought to keep the appointment, or not. I considered myself engaged to Annabel : I considered likewise that she was affianced to me. Our last interview at Dr. Pom- fret's had aU that significancy, though the compact might not have been solemnly expressed in words ; — but was it not ratified by the kiss which the beloved girl had bestowed upon me P Therefore it seemed as if I should be guilty of an act of in- fidelity towards Annabel, if I went to the trysting- place named by Lady Calanthe. On the other hand, might not her ladyship have something to say to me of a real importance apart from that sentiment of love which she had avowed at Myrtle Lodge ? might she not have some explanation to give in order to account for why she had not answered the letter I wrote to her from Dr. Pom- fret's ? or might she not wish to make some com- ment upon its contents, and assure me of her for- giveness for the want of candour that I had been guilty of towards her at the time ? At all events I felt that my heart was so thoroughly engaged to Annabel, I could not possibly prove virtually and literally faithless to her : while it woidd be unkind, rude, and ungracions towards Lady Calanthe not to give her an opportunity of saying whatsoever she might have to impart. Therefore, all things considered, I was more than half resolved to keep the appointment. This circumstance which I have just related, did not prevent me from making my inquiries in respect to a situation. At the very first shop which I entered for the purpose, I received an in- timation that a widow lady, temporarDy occupying lodgings in a neighbouring street, was in want of a page. I accordingly proceeded to the address given me ; and was at once conducted up-stairs to a handsomely furnished drawing-room, where Mrs. Eobinson — for this was the lady's name — was seated. She was a little past thirty years of age ; and as she was not dressed in widow's weeds — but, on the contrary, was most fashionably apparelled — I perceived at once that she could not have recently lost her husband. She was by no means good- looking, but was very pale and had a sickly appear- ance, as if she were an invalid. There was more- over a certain languor in her looks and her speech, which evidently was not altogether affected : though she nevertheless gave herself some little airs — but of a drooping, desponding, lack-a-daisical cha- racter, as if she regarded her iU-health as the means of creating great sympathy on her behalf, as well as serving as an apology for an habitual indolence. Two little gu-ls — respectively of the ages of eight and ten — were seated upon foot- stools, playing with doUs and other toys. They were not interesting children — but also seemed pale and sickly; and in their countenances very much resembled their mother. Mrs. Eobinson put to me the usual questions — as to my age, the places in which I had formerly served, the wages I expected, and the references I had to give. I produced my testimonials, with which she appeared perfectly satisfied — the more so as I intimated that if she required farther infor- mation, she could write to Mr. Tiverton, for in- stance, of Myrtle Lodge, who would no doubt send an immediate answer. This she however declared to be unnecessary, and said that she would receive me into her service. " But I must inform you," she went on to state, 156 JOSEPH WILMOT ; OB, THE JTEMOIBS OP A MAN-SERVANT. " that I am about to remove from Cheltenham. The place does not agree with me ; and besides, I cannot live any longer in odious lodgings. These are all very well in their way," she added, glancing slowly and languidly round the handsomely fur- nished room ; " but they have not the comfort of one's own house. Poor Colonel Robinson died in India upwards of two years ago: his life was a sacrifice to the climate — and therefore to the ser- vice of his country." Here she applied her kerchief to her eyes ; and there was a pause for a few moments. " I have been recommended by physicians," she went on to observe, " to try the genial climate of the Isle of Wight ; and I go thither in a day or two. My solicitor has taken and furnished a suitable residence for me in the neighbourhood of Eyde ; so that everything will be prepared for my reception. You will have to make yourself as use- ful as you can ; for there will be no footman kept j — and this you must understand at the outset." I made a suitable answer ; and being fully en- gaged to enter upon my new place when sent for, took my leave. As I was descending the stairs, I was somewhat startled by the appearance of a dark woman, clad iu a white dress, which at the first glimpse struck me as being a shroud : for she had a piece of linen thrown over her head, only just leaving her dusky face visible. She was hideously ugly ; and as far as I could judge of her age, about forty. She hurried past me, without taking any ■ notice of my presence; and as the maid of the house let me out at the front-door, she said with the air of one who was making a very important revelation, " That woman in white is Mrs. Eobin- son's ayah." •^Ayah?" I repeated, never having heard the term before. " Yes — her Hindoo maid. She is such a queer creature — eats nothing but rice — and speaks such wretched broken English, it's impossible to under- stand her." I left the house, wondering whether I should like my new situation — but deciding rather in favour of it than otherwise : for I thought that I had already seen enough of Mrs. Eobinson to enable me to judge that she was not a lady who would interfere unnecessarily with her servants. The place of destination — namely, the Isle of Wight — was sufficiently remote from the metro- polis to suit my purposes well enough, and guarantee me against whatsoever inquiries Mr. Lanover might at any time take it into his head to make concerning me. I considered myself for- tunate in having so readily obtained a situation ; and wAit back with cheerful spirits to my modest lodging. Again I deliberated whether I should keep the appointment with Lady Calanthe Dun- das : but when the hour drew near, I definitively made up my mind in the affirmative sense. I was not insensible of the kindness I had received at her hands, when circumstances pressed so heavily upon me at Myrtle Lodge; and I could not bear the idea of afflicting or wounding the feelings of that generous-hearted young lady. A few minutes before nine o'clock I issued forth, and proceeded to the place of appointment. It was a narrow path at the back of a dead wall, seeming to be the boundary of a garden, — and skirted by large trees, in the shade of which there was an almost complete darkness, broken only by an occasional lamp. It was an evening in the month of August, and beautifully serene. I walked to and fro beneath those trees for nearly a quarter of an hour ; and Lady Calanthe did not make her appearance. I began to think that she was un- able to keep the appointment ; and I hoped that such was the case. I could then hold myself acquitted of any unkindness towards her: she would not know where to communicate with me ; and I might take good care not to fall in her way agaia during the brief space I was likely to re- main at Cheltenham. But while I was thus re- flecting, a door in the garden-wall suddenly opened, just as I was passing it ; and the soft musical voice of Lady Calanthe whispered the name of " Joseph !" It was she herself, in an evening dress — a scarf thrown over her shoulders — and a straw bonnet upon her head. An adjacent lamp threw its beams upon her countenance, which I saw was animated with mingled pleasure and trepidation. " This way !" she said, catching me by the hand and leading me into the garden : then gently clos- ing the door, she conducted me along a gravel- walk to an arbour at the extremity ; and this was in the angle of the enclosiu-e remotest from the house, the distance being about fif: j yards — so that there was no danger of a conversation being overheard within the dwelling from that point. "Dearest Joseph!" said the young lady, when we were seated together in that arbour — and at the same time she pressed both my hands in her own : " wherefore did you not write to me ? Oh ! you know not the suspense and anxiety I have en- dured " " I did write to your ladyship " '•' Ladyship !" — and she instantaneously dropped my hands. " Ah ! methought there was something singular in your manner and looks this morning ! You did not experience the same pleasiu'e which I did on beholding you — a pleasure which I could scarcely conceal from the groom ! Joseph, this is cruel — this is xmkind! for you cannot conjecture how much I have sufiered on your account." Her voice became tremulous as she gave utter- ance to these last words ; and as the beams of the starlight penetrated, like silver threads, through the openings of the canopy of verdure overhead, they were reflected in the glistening tears which were trickling down her cheeks. " Yes — I have sufiered much," she went on to say, in a hurried and excited tone, thus anticipat- ing whatsoever I myseK was about to speak : " but it was a martyrdom willingly and courageously en- dured — because it was for your sake ! The stern resentment of my father — the bitter reproaches of my mother — the mockery, the jeers, and the taunts of my brothers and sisters all these have I en- dured ! It is only within the last few weeks that my relatives have ceased to torment and torture me. We are all staying id Cheltenham now — in that very house ; and you may therefore imagine the risk I have run in keeping the appointment. Indeed, I feared that I should be imable to leave the drawing-room at all It was only by plead- ing headach But of all this no matter ! I would have incurred any risk, ten thousand times greater, for the sake of being with you ! You do not speak to me, Joseph ? Why are you thus cool f JOSEPH •WILMOT; OE, TBfE MEMOIES OF A IIAN-SESTANT. 157 " My lady, I am not — I am afflicted 1 know not what to say " " Tell me, Joseph," she interrupted me vehe- mently, — " is it true tl^at you did write to me ? If so, the letter was intercepted " " On my soul I wrote to you ! It was from Salisbury, whither I removed after leaving Myrtle Lodge. I directed to you at the post-office, Enfield." "Then the letter was intercepted!" said Calanthe, with a bitterness which was evidently levelled against her relatives. " Ah ! they doubt- less suspected that some arrangement might have been made for our correspondence But what did you say in that letter ? You told me, no doubt, that you would love me as faithfully as I loved you for I have loved you faithfully, Joseph ! — and never has your image been absent from my mind. Oh ! what anguish I experienced when day after day elapsed — weeks went past — they grew into months — and still no tidings came ! Did you not tell me in your letter that you loved me ?" " I confessed everything," was my response, as I mustered up all my courage to give it. " I made avowals which " "Dearest Joseph!" exclaimed Calanthe, in a perfect paroxysm of enthusiastic joy : and in a moment her arms were wound about my neck, and her Ups were pressed to my cheeks. " Ah ! " she suddenly ejaculated, " wherefore do you treat me thus coldly ? What I no return of my loving caress ? Joseph, there is something strange in your manner — I cannot comprehend you !" " You have misunderstood me all along," I said, determined to reveal the truth at last, no matter what pangs I might inflict — no matter what deep humiliation I might cause : for I felt that my duty towards Annabel imperiously commanded this frank and honest course. " Misunderstood you P" ejaculated Calanthe, re- coiling from me as it were in utter amazement. " What mean you ? Speak I Did you dare to trifle with my affections ? Speak, sir !" she added, with a sudden access of haughty indignation. " For heaven's sake, be not offended with me !" I said, in an earnest and imploring tone. " Had you received my letter, it would have explained everything !" " I understand you, Joseph," she cried. " For- give me — Oh I forgive me, for that momentary ex- pression of feeUng on my part. I can conjecture fuU well what you must have said in that letter ! You doubtless told me that it were madness and folly for us to think of remaining pledged to each other. Oh ! but love is in its very essence both hope and faith : — love for the present is the same as confidence for the future ; and I have cherished all that hope, all that faith, and all that con- fidence !" " Pray listen to me !" I exclaimed, almost im- petuously : " I beseech you to listen to me ! I have a duty to perform alike to myself and to your ladyship " " Ah, ladyship again !" ejaculated Calanthe ; and in the silvery beams of the starlight which pene- trated into the arbour, I saw that she started with the petulance of vexation, and that her eyes flashed with the same feeUng. "But go on, Joseph — go on! I will hear you — I was wrong to interrupt you !" " If you will but look back," I said, now care- fully avoiding to address her by any name or title at all ; for I saw that she was feverishly excited, and from the depths of my very soul I pitied her, — " if you will but look back to aU the iacidents which occurred at Myrtle Lodge, you wiH remember that I never " "Oh, Joseph! I have not patience to refer to those times," she interrupted me vehemently, — " only to recollect that it was at Myrtle Lodge I first saw you — at Myrtle Lodge I learnt to love you " But Lady Calanthe " " Call me Calanthe ! I am Calanthe to you ! Do not attempt to reason, Joseph — do not argue ! Such a love as our's is above mere cold delibera- tion. You see that I am resolved to cling to this love as the only anchor of my heart's happiness—— Good heavens, what is that ?" We both started up suddenly; and Calanthe climg to me in a wild terror : for her name, called forth in a stern masculine voice, smote our ears. " My father !" she murmured. " You must away, Joseph ! you must away ! Come quickly !" — and she hurried me out of the arbour. " We must see each other again," she went on to ob- serve, in low but hasty and excited whispers. " In a few days I will manage to communicate with you " "I am about to leave Cheltenham immediately," was my answer : and I myself was so excited and alarmed that I scarcely knew what I said. "Leave Cheltenham? But whither are you going ? Tell me, that I may write to you." " Yes, yes — do so — that I may write to you in return — and as speedily as possible: for I have much, very much to say." "But where are you going, Joseph?" she de- manded with feverish impatience. " With a famOy named Eobinson — to the Isle of Wight. The residence is in the neighbourhood of Eyde " Calanthe's name was now again called forth by her father ; and his voice seemed to be drawing nearer to the path which we were pursuing. "Here is the gate, Joseph!" said the young lady, in the same hurried whisper as before. "Dearest, dearest Joseph!" — and she embraced me with all the fervour and enthusiasm of her il- limitable fondness. " Farewell, my beloved Joseph !" — and the next instant the garden-gate closed behind me. CHAPTER XXXTTL THE EOOM OP THE DEEADFUL PICIUEE. I WAS once more in the pathway deeply shaded by the trees ; and I hurried along with painf idly dis- satisfied thoughts in my mind. Another interview had taken place with Lady Calanthe — another op- portunity had for the moment seemed to present itself for me to reveal the actual state of my feel- ings towards her ; and yet it had terminated with- out this most vitally important aim being achieved. But it was through no deficiency of moral courage on my part this time : it was on account of that sudden interruption caused by Lord MandeviUe's voice. Alas ! Calanthe was still left in the belief 158 JOSEPH WILilOT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAK-SEHTANT. that her love was reciprocated : she would stiil cherish that passion which I feared must inevitably prove fatal to her happiness ; and I had no imme- diate means of disabusing her. Ah ! and the warmth of her kisses was still upon my cheeks — the impress of her lips was there— the glow of her hand still seemed to attach itself to mine ; and in all this I felt that Annabel was wronged and out- raged. It was with a troubled spirit that I sped onward : it was vrith a voice of lamentation crying up from the depths of my soul, that I hastened thi'ough the brilliantly lighted streets. Splendid equipages were dashing past, bearing fashionable gentlemen and gem-bedecked ladies to soii'ees and entertainments; and the din thereof only seemed to add to the confusion of my brain. I turned out of the wide and well-lit thoroughfare which I had been pursuing : I longed to seek some lonely and retired spot, where I could escape from the tur- moil of gay and busy life which seemed to be whirling around me. I felt that it would be a luxury to find myself altogether alone. In a few minutes my steps, taken at hazard, did bring me to such a retired spot as I had been craving for ; and there, in the deep shade of some huge trees, I paced to and fro in an agitated man- ner. Vain was my endeavour to calm and tran- quillize my reflections : the scene with Calanthe had left a remorse behind it : I felt as if I were no longer worthy of Annabel ; — though heaven knows I had not voluntarily abandoned myself to the fervid embraces of the loving patrician damsel. As I was thus walking to and fro, I suddenly observed the form of a man emerge from the depth of gloom cast by the group of huge trees ; and he Stopped short on beholding me. There was just light enough at the particular place where he thus confronted me, for me to observe that he was a gentleman of about thirty years of age— remark- ably handsome — but with a haughty expression of countenance. His face too seemed unnaturally pale, as if he were at the instant experiencing some powerful inward emotions ; and as his eyes were fixed keenly upon me, their looks seemed intended to penetrate into the very depth of my Boul. He was tall— of a fine manly form— and fashionably dressed : but it seemed to me by the manner in which his coat was buttoned over his breast, and his hat was drawn down somewhat upon his countenance, that he had been anxious to avoid observation ere reaching this spot where he would have found utter loneliness, had it not been for my accidental presence. '• Young man," he said placing his hand upon my shoulder, and grasping it with so much spas- modic violence that he hurt me severely, — " every- thing is known, and you must accompany me." I was seized vnth dismay — not so much on ac- coimt of aught that might happen to myself, but for poor Lady Calanthe's sake : for it instan- taneously struck me that this individual must be one of her brothers, or at all events some one who had a right to interfere in the matter to which he seemed so pointedly to aUude. "Yes — you must come with me," he repeated, still retaining his hold upon my shoulder ; " and the less perhaps that passes between us during our brief walk, the better." " But for what purpose am I to go with you," I inquired, assuming a resolute tone of voice. " This is absurd !" ejaculated the stranger with vehement petulance. " Everythiog is confessed — everything is known ! But if it be needful, I adjure you by her whose fatal love has brought disgrace on her family, to accompany me. Not another word ! You doubtless suspect — if you do not al- ready know — that I am her brother. Yes — a brother who is rendered half mad by her conduct ! Beware therefore how you provoke me : beware how you refuse — or this pistol shall lay you dead at my feet !" The infuriate man shook me violently as he thus spoke; and as one hand retained its firm grasp upon my shoulder, the other suddenly drew forth a pistol, the barrel of which gleamed in the star- light that penetrated through the trees. I confess that I was for the moment much frightened : but the next instant recovering my presence of mind, I said, '■' My lord — for I presume that I am right in addressing you by that title — you shall not coerce me by threats. I will go with you, because I have explanations to give ; and it were better perhaps for every one concerned that they should be given at once." " Explanations !" repeated the nobleman bitterly: then in an abrupt manner, he added, " But as I ere now said, it were better that nothing more should pass between us until we reach the house." " Put up your weapon — loosen your hold upon me — and I will accompany you. Do not think that I am afraid !" — and I spoke with a dignity and a fearlessness of tone which even astonished myself. We were moving away from the spot, — he having returned the pistol to his pocket, and like- wise withdrawn his vice-like grasp from my shoulder, — when another individual emerged from the gloom a little way ahead : but on catcliing sight of us, he instantaneously disappeared again. My companion was evidently struck by this cir- cumstance, as I myself also was : for it seemed to me strange and suspicious — though I was utterly at a loss to give any particular complexion or sig- nificancy to the incident. '•' Did you expect to meet any male friend here ?" inquired the nobleman, vnth a peremptory stern- ness in which astonishment was also blended. "I? ISTo — certainly not," was my response: and I was surprised at the question, inasmuch as accident alone had taken me to that spot : — ^but this, I the next instant remembered, my com- panion could not know. " Enough !" he said. " I believe you. It must be some one who has his own private reasons for not being perceived." We continued our way in silence ; and during the walk I settled in my mind the course which I should adopt. That I was about to be conducted into the presence of Lady Calanthe's father, Lord Mandeville, I coxild not doubt : and it was my de- termination to set at rest all fears which the family might entertain of her ladyship's forming what would be regarded an unworthy match, — by declaring that my heart was devoted to another, and that though I regarded Calanthe with an esteem that could never die, I did not aspire to the possession of her hand. But while thus de- termining upon all the details of the line of con- duct which it was now my duty to pursue— and while wondering how the nobleman whom I was JOSEPH WILMOT; OE, THE MEMOIBS OF A MAN-SEEVANT. 159 accompanying, could have tracked me to that par- ticular spot where he had so suddenly encountered me — I did not notice the precise direction which we took. I however perceived that we did not plunge into the brilliantly lighted thoroughfares : but when I at length began to wonder where we were, and to look about me, I felt assured that we must have been keeping on the outskirts of the town. Our walk had already lasted a quarter of an hour; and methought that by this time we should be at our destination. Still however my companion went on, — I continuing by his side. I glanced towards his countenance : it was coldly stern — the features were rigid, with the expression of a fixed and settled purpose. He glanced not at me — but looked straightforward; and I had no doubt in my own, mind that he hated, scorned, and despised me with all the energy of a proud heart's susceptibilities. For five more minutes was our walk continued ; and then it termiaated at an iron gate in the middle of a garden-wall. "Within the enclosure a large mansion was situated ; and in several win- dows lights were burning. A strange feeling of bewilderment came over me : for this did not appear to have the aspect of the same premises from which I had been so quickly hurried away by Calanthe, three quarters of an hour back. And yet I said to myself that it might have been by the side or in the rear of the garden that I had been admitted by Lady Calanthe : whereas this was evidently the front entrance. While I was thus silently deliberating, my companion had taken forth a key from his pocket and opened the iron gate. We passed in: but instead of making straight across the lawn, or even pursuing the circular course of the carriage -drive towards the portico, where brilliant lamps were burning, we turned abruptly into a path to the right — thus plunging into the shade of an avenue of trees. Then we turned to the left, — the path following the direction of the walls ; so that now I began to think it must be at the end of this very avenue that the arboiu' was situated, and that the door by which I had been admitted must be, as I ere now suspected, in the rear of the premises. But ere we reached the farther end, we turned into another path, — which brought us up to the side of the mansion; and we stopped short at a glass-door shaded with pink curtains, but not so much as to prevent me from observing that there was a faint light within. My companion knocked gently at one of the panes of glass : the door was opened — the curtain drawn aside — and I passed into a large and appa- rently sumptuously furnished apartment. I say apparently, because there was but one wax-candle burning there ; and this was totally insufficient to light so spacious a room. The individual who had opened the door, and thus given admission to my- self and companion, was a very old man — short in stature— slightly bowed in form — with a thin white coimtenance, and cold gray glassy eyes. His lips ■were firmly compressed : he had precisely that same rigidity and settled sternness of features which I had observed on the part of him who had guided me thither ; and notwithstanding the great discrepancy of their ages, it was by no means difficult to discern by the profile that the younger one was the son of the elder. The cold glassy eyes of the latter were immediately fixed upon me as I entered the room, with an earnest, searching, scrutinizing look : there was a knitting too of the brows, a firmer compression of the lips, and a deepening of that rigidity of expression on the part of the old man, — all tending to convince me that I was regarded not lovingly by him. StUl my courage failed not. I knew that in reality I had done no harm — that I was the object of a pas- sion which I had never encouraged voluntarily, and certainly never sought to engage : my mind was made up to perform a duty— and the integrity of my purpose served to arm me with fortitude. That I was now in the presence of Calanthe's father, Lord Mandevillc, I could not doubt ; and the expression of his countenance was but too well calculated to justify her ladyship's assurance that she had experienced the sternest upbraidings from his lips. The nobleman who had brought me thither closed the glass-door as he followed me into the room, and drew the curtain over the window. His father slowly traversed the apartment, and seated himself in an arm-chair, — whence he again fixed his glassy eyes upon me, but still without speaking a word. He surveyed me with the scrutinizing air of one who sees for the fii-st time an individual of whom he has nevertheless heard much, but whom he has little cause to like. Slowly did his gaze wander over me, thus travelling from my head to my feet ; and the survey lasted upwards of a minute. I did not feel comft)rtable under that scrutiny : I did not like that old nobleman's glacial, glassy look, in the very dull deadness of which there was nevertheless a sort of sinister, almost horrible animation. It was as if a corpse were mystically inspired with the power to gaze on the object of its life-time's hate. I could not endure to meet that look ; and as I averted my own eyes, they encountered an immense picture suspended to the wall, the hideous subject of which, though but dimly shadowed forth in the feeble light which but partially shone in the apartment, made me suddenly recoil from it. In- deed the blood turned cold in my veins : for that picture rej)resented an enormous snake flinging itself down from the boughs of a tree to which its tail still clung, while its other extremity circled ia enormous coUs the body of a man on horseback. The steed itself was represented as rearing in wild afi'right; and the subject — evidently an Indian scene — was on so vast a scale, that it really seemed as if it were the living reaUty, and not a mere pic- ture from which I thus suddenly shrank back. But ashamed of that terror which had seized upon me, I turned my eyes again on the old nobleman, — who at the moment beckoned with his hand for me to draw nearer to him. " Yoimg man," he said, in a stern voice, which for the first instant trembled slightly, but imme- diately became coldly firm, — "you have brought disgrace down upon a family which never knew disgrace before ; and you must make such amends as lie in your power. Your guilty partner — for I shall no longer call her daughter of mine — has confessed everything. Three days ago did she reveal all the agonizing circumstances to her mother : she named the author of her degradation — she mentioned your "presence in this town, and the appointment which was made for to-night " 160 JOSEPH WIIMOT; OE, THB MEMOrES OV A HAU-SBRVAITP. " My lord !" I exclaimed, perfectly bewildered by these announcements, which struck me as being singularly impossible as to accuracy of date, for it was only in the morning of that very day I had met Calanthe, — announcements, too, which ap- peared to give a far more serious complexion to all that had taken place between us than the matter reaUy deserved. " Nay, interrupt me not !" said the old noble- man, with so peremptory a wave of his hand, and such a stern expression of countenance, that for the instant I was overawed and dismayed : "listen to me — and you shall speak afterwards. But if your own sentiments be rightly explained by her whom I ouee called daughter, it camiot be a remonstraiico which you will have to offer — much less a refusal that you will dare to give. The world is as yet unacquainted with her degradation : the secret is known but to three persons besides you and her unhappy self. Those three are her parents and this indignant and half-maddened bro- ther whom you see here." " But, my lord," I again interrupted him, and with passionate vehemence too : for what I now heard corresponded but very little indeed with what Lady Calanthe had told me, when she had spoken of the taimts and the jeers of all her bro- thers and all her sisters. " Silence, sir !" exclaimed the old nobleman. "Instead of interjecting your own remarks, you ought to fall down upon your knees and implore my pardon No, that were useless !" he added haughtily : " for my pardon never can be afforded. What I am about to do, must not be regarded by you as a proof of forgiveness either for yourself or the degraded object of your most fatal love. It is to save her from the crowning disgrace — to place her beyond the reach of the world's opprobrium and scorn — that I am taking this step. In a wordj sir, yom- hands must be imited within the hour that is passing !" " My lord !" I once more ejaculated wildly, as the image of Annabel sprang up in my mind. " Silence !" exclaimed the young nobleman, in a deep stern voice, as he clutched me by the shoulder "Everything is arranged," continued the old nobleman : " the special license is procured — the clergyman will be here in a few minutes :" and ha looked at his watch as he spoke. " Five thousand pounds will be remitted to Calcutta, to be received by you on your arrival there with her who is pre- sently to become your wife ; and suflScient means shall be at once afforded you for the voyage. My son — he who stands by your side — will accompany his degraded sister and yourself to the sea-port whence you will embark. In the far-off clime to which you are about to repair, you may enter upon some career which may lead to wealth: but I warn you never to write to any member of her family She is discarded — she is thrown off !" " My lord," I exclaimed, the wild agony of my feelings now loosening the spell which awful terror had affixed upon my powers of speech, — '' I cannot — I will not " " Villain !" ejaculated the old nobleman, starting up from his seat : " dare you thus refuse to make the only atonement which it is in your power to afford ?" " Yes — villain indeed !" cried the younger noble- man, as he shook me with all his force : but the next instant he staggered back, and would have fallen if he had not come in violent contact with the table ; for in a sudden paroxysm of indigna- tion, I dealt him with all my power a blow upon the chest. The pistol dropped from his hand : — in a moment I snatched it up j and stepping back two or three paces, exclaimed in a determined tone, " If you dare to ill-treat me again, I wiU act as if in defence of my life : for I do firmly believe it to be menaced !" Scarcely had I thus spoken, when the old noble- man said in a tone of earnest entreaty — very different from that in which he had hitherto been speaking, — "For heaven's sake let there be no violence ! This is a matter which must be argued — if argued at all — reasonably and rationally." "My lord," I at once answered, hastening to deposit the weapon upon the table, " it is not a personage of your gray hairs that I would for a moment threaten. But let your son understand as forcibly as he had done on the spot where we i that he has not to do with a mere boy : nor will I first met. " By heaven ! if you dare offer a re- | be coerced in any way— least of all into this monstrance— if you dare hesitate— I will stretch I marriage." you dead at my feet, even though I were to mount " Diabolical scoundrel !" ejaculated the younger the gallows to-morrow for the deed !"— and again nobleman, his countenance hideous with rage ; Ms pistol was produced. and in a moment he caught up the pistol which I, I do not hesitate to confess that I was a prey to 1 with more magnanimity than prudence, had aban- the profoundest terror. The extraordinary turn | doned. " Father, stand aside ! You see that we which the evening's adventures had taken— my i have to do with a villain. _ Young as he is in mysterious introduction into this mansion— that years, he is evidently old in the most profligate spacious apartment with its dark massive furni- ' iniquity. Leave me to settle with him !" tare, and all so dimly lighted— that old man with j " You are usurping advantages," I said reso- his thin white hair, his ghastly expression of coim- j lutely, "which I have renounced :"— and I glanced tenance, and his dead-looking eyes fixed upon me ' towards the weapon. —the evident resoluteness of purpose which ani- " Every advantage is legitimate in such cir- mated both him and his son— the forcible grasp cumstances as these !" exclaimed the infuriate rivetted upon me — the threatening weapon — the | man. horrible menace which had accompanied its pro- j " Hush ! we shall be overheard," said his father, duction— and that dreadful picture to which my i now terribly agitated. glances were every now and then flung, as if the 1 " The distiirbance, my lord," said I, " is not snake upon the canvass possessed all the fascinating of my creating : and if you would only listen to power of the loathsome, hideous, living reality — me " the entire scene, in short, was but too well calcu- ■■ " Listen to you ! What have you to say ? lated thus to fill me with a solemn awe and terrific interrupted the younger nobleman, but now speak- consternation. I in a much lower tone : " what can you have to JOSEPH WILMOT; OK, THE MEMOIRS OV A MAX-SJiRTANT. 101 i say ? There is no verbal argument to be used : but there is another, of a sterner and a deadlier sort ; — and as there is a God above me, I will use it ! Pray interfere not, father ! It is an outraged brother who deals with the wretch that has brought degradation on his sister — and in so dealing, I avenge my parents likewise ! Ifow hear me !" he continued, advancing towards me with the pistol ia his hand : " hear me, I say — and interrupt not ! In a few minutes the clergyman will be here. If you consent not to make the reparation sought at your hands, I swear that 1 will stretch you dead at my feet. Think not that I shall hesitate at the crime No, it will not be a crime : such a deed is only too legitimate! And hark you, young man," he went on to say, drawing still nearer to me ; " the blow which you have inflicted, has only tended to embitter me the more rancorously against you. Therefore hesitate but a few minutes longer — and it shall be your death. This room, 21 purposely chosen for the present scene, is remote from the other parts of the mansion where there are inmates ; the sound of a pistol would not be heard beyond these walls. "What if the bullet penetrates your brain ? I bear jour corpse into the garden — I throw it under the wall : presently I go forth, alleging that I have heard a- noise : I fire another pistol in the open air, so that all may hear it — ^your body ii found where I shall have deposited it — and who will suspect otherwise than that it is an intruder who has been righteously slain in an attempt to enter the premises ?" I recoiled in ghastly horror from the wretch who thus deliberately shadowed forth his diabolical scheme : a dizziness seized upon me — a sickening sensation at the heart: and as I staggered half roimd, my eyes encountered that dreadful picture, so that in the wild confusion of my thoughts it really seemed as if the monstrous reptile wera about to spring forth from the canvass upon me. 1G2 JOSEPH WIXilOT ; OE, THE TIEMOTRS OF A MAIT-SEETANT. "Decide quickly — for I am impatient !" said the youBg nobleman : and the pistol was levelled at my head. ■' One word, Eugene !" interrupted the old nobleman : " one word ! Let your sister come hither. We will then see whether in her presence, this young man will refuse to do her justice ?" '• Yes — he shall have this last chance," cried the son, whose Christian name I had now heard men- tioned for the first time. " But do you go and fetch her, father — while I remain here to guard against his escape." The old nobleman accordingly quitted the room; and he was absent about three minutes. During this interval not a syllable was spoken by either Eugene or myself. He stood at a little distance, eyeing me narrowly, so as to anticipate any move- ment on my part which might tend to flight, or to an attack upon himself; and his weapon, though new pointed downward, was evidently in readiness to be raised in the twinkling of an eye. I leant against the wall, by the side of the immense picture which reached to within two feet of the ceiling and to an equal distance from the carpet, — while a thousand distracting thoughts swept wilderingly through my brain. How was all this to end ? was I to be forced into a marriage with Lady Calanthe, and thus see my hope of some day or another espousing Annabel, annihilated in an instant ? But would Calanthe herself consent to such an alliance — an alliance forced at the pistol's muzzle ? Oh, no ! I knew the generosity of her heart — I knew the pride of her spirit^and as I reflected in a more tranquil maimer upon the decision to which she was certain to come, my fortitude rose again. The door opened — the old nobleman re-appeared, leading in a young lady whose looks were bent downward, and even of whose figure I could not immediately catch an acciirate or precise view, inasmuch as she entered from the farther extremity of the spacious apartment, which at that end was involved in deep gloom. She advanced half- clinging to her father's arm: slowly they came forward; but as she thus gradually approached within the sphere of the candle-light, the amazing, overwhelming, astounding idea arose in my mind that it was not Calanthe whom I beheld before me ! ,4ji ejaciilation of wonderment burst from my lips : the young lady raised her eyes with a sudden start : her countenance was now fully revealed to me — it was a lovely one, but saddened and care-worn, as well as very pale ; and instead of the raven hair and the dark eyes of Lord Mandeville's daughter, glossy auburn bands enframed the marble fore- head, and her startled surprise and horror were ex- pressed from large blue orbs. A shriek rang forth from her lips ; and she would have fallen, had not her father sustained her in his arms. •• What mean you, Gertrude ?" he exclaimed in astonishment. ■' And what mean ymi V demanded Eugene, addressing the query with equal wonderment to me. " It is not he ! it is not he ! It is a stranger !" responded the young lady, in an agonizing voice, to her father's question. " Oh, the shame ! the exposure !" " Bear her away, father !" ejaculated Eugene : and the old man hurried his dauffhter from the room. " AVho are you ? and why were you at that spot at that time r" demanded the voun"' nobleman, now fiercely and impatiently turnin'^ once more towards me. " ily name is Joseph WHmot," I answered ; "and it was accident which led me to the place where I met you." '•■ Accident ?" he echoed, eyeing me with the keenness of suspicion. '■' But how was that ? You seemed to understand what I meant " " Eecollect, my lord," I at once replied, "that you merely bade me accompany you " " iXo ! I adjured you by her, and in the name of that fatal love which she bore you " " Ah, I recollect !" I exclaimed. "But frankly speaking, there was some little coincidence — of which however I shall not breathe another word: for it is my secret, and you have no right to pene- trate it. I know not even who you are — I know not your father's name : never in my life had I seen your sister imtU within the last few minutes !" Eugene looked perfectly bewildered: still he eyed me suspiciously ; and then he paced to and fro in a very agitated manner. The door opened again : and his fiither re-appcared. At the same instant there was a gentle tapping at the glass- door ; and Eugene hurried thither. He went forth : he was scarcely a minute absent ; and then he re-entered the room. I had no difficulty in guessing that it was the clergyman who had knocked, and whom Eugene doubtless informed that his services were not required — at least on the present occasion. " What is the meaning of all this ?" demanded the old nobleman : '•' what signifies the mystery ? Who is this youth ? how originated the mistake .-" " He says that his name is WUmot," Eugene hastened to answer. " He declares that it was by accident he was at the spot where I expected to meet another " " Ah !" I suddenly exclaimed, as a reminiscence struck me : " that individual who appeared fcr a moment at the same place and then disappeared so abruptly on observing us." " True !" cried Eugene : " it must have been he ! Father, it is indeed but too evident that a fearful, a terrible mistake has ocemTcd." '•And if your lordships had permitted me to explain," I hastened to interject, " you would have been spared this exposure — you of a daughter, and you of a sister:" — and I glanced from the one to the other as I spoke. '■ But you were violent — you were imperious — you were peremptoi-y " "Ah, young man I" cried the old nobleman, "if you were acquainted with all the circumstances, you would not wonder at our conduct !" " Acquainted with the circimistances ?" echoed Eugene bitterly : " has he not obtained a far too profound insight into them ? What is to be done ?" " Tell us who you are," said the father, trembling with excitement, humiliation, and annoyance, as he spoke : " where do you live f to what family do you belong? what is your station in life.^ Tell us everything !" " Were the circumstances, my lord, oth« than what they are," I answered, " I should perhaps decline to be thus minutely catechi2e4 after the treatment I have received. But I make every allowance ; and deeply, deeply do I regret that a JOSEPH WILMOX; OB, THE MIMOIES OF A MAIT-SEBVANT. 163 secret so profoundly involving the honour of your family, should have been brought by accident to my knowledge." " Tou speak fairly, young man," said the old nobleman ; " and you can judge full well wherefore I have put so many questions. Yes — the honour of my family is indeed ia your keeping !" " And solemnly do I declare that the secret shall be kept !" I exclaimed. '• I will tell your lordship who and what I am. I am an orphan — friendless too— dependent upon my own industry for my bread; and my situation in life is far humbler than you perhaps may imagine." " You are a good youth," said the father, pat- ting me caressingly on the back ; " and I must do something for you." " Nothing, my lord !" I quickly returned : and I certainly felt somewhat indignant that not a syllable in the shape of apology was offered to me by his son for the outrageous treatment I had received and the diabolical menaces of which I had been made the object. "Yes, yes," continued the father, drawing forth Iiis pocket-book and taking thence a number of bank-notes : " I must make you a little pre- sent " " What ?" I exclaimed ; ■'"' as the price of keep- ing a secret ?" — and I shrank back. " IS'o, my lord : if I consented to be bribed, you would have no faith in my honour and good principle ; and as I do not wish your daughter to tremble at the idea that her secret wiU ever be -whispered to the world by me, the best proof I can give of my integrity, is to refuse everything in the form of bribe or hush-money." " But you wiU swear, Joseph Wilmot— you wiH swear solemnly and sacredly," resumed the old nobleman, '• that you will not reveal a single tittle of what has taken place here to night ?" " Hear me, my lord," I responded. " You be- hold not before you a young man who is given to idle gossiping, or who has a morbid inclination for scandal. I do not know your name — I have not the slightest idea beneath whose roof I stand at this moment : I leave Cheltenham in a day or two — perhaps never to return. At all events I pledge myself sacredly and solenmly not even to inquire who lives here. Dui-ing the brief space that I may remain in the town, I will direct my walks in quite a contrary direction. If I meet your lordship or your lordship's son, I wiU not ask who you are. IS'ow, have I satisfied you even more than an oath could do, that you have to deal with one who is incapable of a derogatory and contemp- tible action ?" " Yes, yes," answered the old nobleman, still very much excited, and very different too in his treatment of me from what he had been a little time back. " But are you sui-e that I can be of no assistance ti, you ?" — and he still held the bank- notes between his trembling fingers. fio, my lord — none !" and I at once moved owards the glass-door. Eugene accompanied me forth : but we now took the most direct way towards the iron gate. There the younger nobleman, taking me bv the hand, said, " I hope that you bear me no ill- will ?" "My lord," I answered coldly, as I withcbew my hand, " it is impossible I can think well of you after the dreadful menaces which you levelled against me, and which show you to be capable of the darkest deeds." Thereupon I hurried away — and was already at a considerable distance from the house, ere I recol- lected that I knew not which direction I was taking. I was completely at a loss how to regain my lodgings. I had been to a part of the town — or rather to a mansion on the outsku-t of it — with which I was previously unacquainted. I however sought the nearest streets ; and by inquiry, at length arrived in parts that were familiar to me, — so that at last I reached my lodging just as the clocks were proclaiming the hour of eleven. 'Need I add that I went to bed with a heart unfeignedly rejoicing at the issue of an adventure which at one time had appeared to threaten aU my fondest and dearest hopes -ndth utter destruction ? I faithfully kept the promise which I gave to those noblemen, whose names were utterly unknown to me. I made no inquiries with a view to dis- cover who they were : I rambled not in the direc- tion where I conceived that the mansion must lie : and throughout the day which followed that even- ing of many incidents, I saw nothing of them in the crowded streets of Cheltenham. Neither did I behold Lady CaLanthe : if I had, I should have avoided an encounter ; for I vowed within myself that I would not again risk the chance of proving, even though involuntarily, unfaithful to my be- loved and worshipped Annabel. In the course of the afternoon I received a message from Mrs. Eobinson, to the effect that I was to prepare myself to depart with her on the following morn- ing : and punctual to the instructions thus con- veyed, I was at the coach-office at the appointed hour. My new mistress was evidently not too well off; as she had no carriage of her own, and did not travel post. Herself, the ayah, and the two children occupied the interior of the stage, — myself and a lady's-maid riding on the outside. As the coach passed through the town, I suddenly beheld a well-dressed female waving her handker- chief to me ; and instantaneously recognised Char- lotte Mui-ray. She was looking admirably well, and seemed delighted to have caught even that transient glimpse of me : for the equipage was rattling quickly along, and there was no oppor- tunity for us to exchange a single word. CHAPTEE XXXIV. THE GOTEENESS. * The town of Eyde, picturesquely situated on the northern shore of the Isle of Wight, is opposite Portsmouth, — the channel, known as Spithead, lying between. I need not pause to describe the beautiful scenery of the island which I now visited for the first time — nor to speak of the fine effect of the shipping viewed from the town, in the neighbourhood of which the residence taken for Mrs. Bobinson was situated. My first impression that she was not particularly well off, was con- firmed when I found the house was but a small one, and that the domestic establishment consisted only of the lady's-maid, the ayah, myself, and a ^ IGi JOSEPH ■WTLMOT; OH, THE MEMOIRS OV A MiX-SERVANT. cook, — the household work being divided, between those female-servants. I was also right in conjec- turing that Mrs. Robinson was not a lady likely to interfere very much with the domestics' depart- ment. She had acquired all the indolent habits peculiar to the dwellers in the sultry clime where a considerable portion of her life had been passed : her languor was far from being altogether as- sumed: and she was sickly, without having any serious or accurately defined malady. The house was about half a mile from the tovra, — sepa- rated by a small flower-garden from the road leading to Newport in the interior of the island, — and having a vegetable garden of larger dimen- sions at the back. For these grounds the services of a man were engaged three times a week : but as he did not sleep or take his meals in the house, he could not be reckoned amongst the domestic es- tablishment. Ii appeared that Mrs. Robinson had brought letters of introduction to some good families dwell- ing at Ryde, by whom she was at once visited; but she evidently did not seek much society — ac- cepted few invitations, and gave only occasional parties. Her intention, on first taking up her abode at Eyde, was to send her little girls as weekly boarders to a seminary : but being herself somewhat hypochondriacal, she fancied that the children were more sickly than they were, and therefore resolved upon having a governess to reside in the house. Accordingly, about a month, after she was settled in her new home, an adver- tisement was inserted in one or two London news- papers, inquiring for a governess, — specifying qualifications and terms, and directing all applica- tions to bo addressed by letter to Mrs. Robinson, Oval ViUa, Ryde, Isle of Wight. In the course of a few days several letters, bearing the postmarks of different places, and all addressed in female handwriting, were delivered by the postman ; and I had no doubt that these were answers to the advertisements. I happened to become aware how a decision was arrived at in respect to these explanations ; inasmuch as a con- versation on the subject arose in my presence, between Mrs. Robinson and two ladies who dined with her one evening ; and as I waited at table, I heard what passed upon the subject. I should previously observe, — not, however that it has any- thing to do with the matter, — that Mrs. Robin- son's repasts consisted chiefly of high-seasoned dishes, — mulligatawny-soup, and curry in some shape or another, invariably figuring upon the board. She drank little wine, but considerable quantities of bottled ale, — a habit she had ac- quired ii India where the relaxing and ener- vating influence of the hot climate needs such stimulant. The two ladies dining with my mistress on the occasion referred to, were Mrs. and Miss Brownlow — mother and daughter, — very good kind of per- sons in their way, but neither of them troubled with too large a quantity of brains. Like many weak-minded people, they had a habit of agreeing with everything that was said in their hearing, — seeming to have no opinion of their own, and speaking as if they thought it rude to volunteer one if it were in contradiction with anything ex- pressed by a previous speaker. It was this ready deference on their part which confirmed MrSt Bo- binson in the choice which she had already half settled in her mind in respect to the governess. " I have had a great number of applications in answer to my advertisement," she observed, in the course of conversation ; " and I have studied them all as well as ill health and depression of spirits would allow me. One seems to promise a great deal too much " " Exactly what they usually do in these cases, my dear Mrs. Robinson," interjected Mrs. Brown- low. " And another," continued my mistress, " does not promise half enough." " Always the case with these people !" ex- claimed Miss Brownlow, now considering it her txu'n to speak. "Some," proceeded Mrs. Robinson, "demand higher tei-ms than I can afford to give, and endea- vour to impress upon my mind that they will fully earn their salary. But " " Ah ! I see, my dear madam," cried Mrs. Brownlow, " that you are too wise to be deceived by them." " Besides," added the daughter, " when one has fixed what one chooses to give " "To be sure!" proceeded Mrs. Robinson; " one won't be persuaded into an alteration. There are others who stipulate for whole and sole control over the children, totally irrespective of the parents' wishes : but this is a concession I could not possi- bly think of making." " Indeed you are quite right," cried Mrs. Brown- low. " And though the testimonials are good," continued my mistress, " it is utterly out of the question to consent to such terms. Besides, betvi-een you and me, I have not much faith in testimonials." " To be sure not !" ejaculated Miss Brownlow : " they are so easily vamped up." " Tor my part," said Mrs. Robinson, " I would rather judge for myself from the nature of the applications." " No doubt of it !" said Mrs. Brownlow. "Your own natural penetration and good sense can dis- criminate better than through the medium of any- thing the testimonials themselves can point out." " I am glad you coincide with me," observed my mistress : " for the very letter which pleases me best, and strikes my fancy most of aU, is written by a young person who has no testimonials to offer." " I am sure if I were taking a governess," ex- claimed Mrs. Brownlow, " I should use my own discretion, just as you, my dear friend, are so wisely and judiciously doing." " I shall certainly follow your advice," rejoined my mistress. " The letter I allude to, is written by a young person named Matilda Palmer. She represents herself as under twenty years of age — left an orphan some years back, and thrown de- pendent upon an old aunt, whose recent demise has left her relationless and friendless. She there- fore wishes to render her accomplishments available for her livelihood. She is willing to take charge of my dear little girls on the terms proffered : she will do her best to make herself agreeable both to them and to me: she will carefully study my wishes in all things, and will consult me in every detail relative to her pupils' studies. Of course I JOSEPH WILMOT; OE, THE MEMOIKS OF A MAN-SEEVANT. 165 do not wish to be troubled in this respect : I am too great an invaUd and my spirits are too low, to permit much interference: but it is the girl's respectful and deferential style that I like. She candidly explains that she has no testimonials to transmit — but throws herself upon my kind and generous consideration." " She could not possibly have done better," ex- claimed Mrs. Brownlow. " I am sure I am already prepossessed in favour of this young person from what you have been saying ; and I do not wonder that you should be so likewise." "It is quite natxiral," added Miss Brownlow; " and Mrs. Eobinson will be doing a charitable action by taking such an impretending and re- spectful applicant." " After all the good advice you have both given me," observed my mistress, now growing fatigued with the length of a discourse which had had no pause to afford her a rest, — " I should be wrong not to decide in favour of Matilda Palmer. I wiU therefore write to her to-morrow." Here the conversation upon this subject dropped ; and when discourse was revived, it turned upon other topics. I could not help thinking that Mrs. Eobinson's conduct in the selection of a governess argued either a most ingenuous simplicity, or else a very wrong-headed disregard of all ordinary precautions on her part : but I had my suspicion that the real reason wherefore she decided upon the yovmg lady who had no testimonials to offer and no references to give, was because she hated trouble, and was too indolent to write a number of letters to ascertain the genuine character of the recommendation, or to inquire for whatsoever in- formation might be given by the referees. On the following day my mistress gave me a letter to take to the post ; and I saw that it was addressed to Miss Palmer, at some street in Camden Town, London. Three days afterwards — and at about noon — I was issuing forth from the garden-gate to go into Eyde for some purpose, when I was struck by the circumstance of a boy, belonging to the poorer class, following me at a short distance, and looking as if he were either watching me or wished to speak to me. I walked on, glancing behind every now and then, and saw that he was still following me. I stopped — and he stopped likewise : I went on — and again he advanced ; so that I could no longer entertain the slightest doubt that he was in reality following in my footsteps. I therefore turned suddenly ; and confronting him, asked, " Do you want anything with me ?" He looked back : we were now out of sight of the house; and with a mysterious air, he said, " Is your name Joseph Wilmot ?" "It is," I answered, wondering what on earth the lad could have to do with me. " This is for you, then," he abruptly rejoined : and thrusting a note into my hand, scampered away with such speed towards the town that I quickly lost sight of him. The note which he had left in my hand, was directed to Mr. Wilmot; and the writing, though evidently disguised, was of female delicacy and fluency. I recognised it not : but the first thought that struck me, was a joyous one. I fancied it might be a communica- tion from Annabel ; and without pausing to re- flect why she should think it necessary to dis- guise her handwriting, I tore open the billet. Its contents, which I perused with no small degree of astonishment, ran as follow : — " October 7th, 1838. " This evening the governess will arrive at Oval Villa. She is not unknown to you ; and circumstances have compelled her to take a feigned name. Yon are con- jured not to give vent to any ejaculation of amazement, nor to betray any surpriae, when you first encounter her. Every generous feeling which you possess, is earnestly appealed to on this point. Be completely on your guard : time and opportunity will present them- selves for explanations; and these ehall be freely and frankly given. Reflect that the reputation of her who pens these lines, will be in your keeping ; and that if by word or look, yon betray her secret, her immediate eipnlsioa from Mrs. Eobinson's house will become in- evitable. Again, therefore, are yon solemnly adjured to exercise the strongest control over your feelings !" No wonder that I was stricken with amazement on reading this mysterious billet ; and as I walked on to Eyde, I marvelled to myself who the writer could possibly be. I bethought me of all the young females I had known at all corresponding with the age of the expected governess ; and though I coidd point to several, yet the circumstances of none were at all similar to those in which she alleged herself to be placed, as I had heard ex- plained from the lips of Mrs. Eobinson. But might not those circumstances be as fictitious as, it ap- peared, the name of Matilda Palmer itself was ? ' This question naturally suggested itself : but for the life of me, I could not settle my thoughts on any particular individual as the one who was play- ing this strange and unaccountable game. I stopped and studied the handwriting of the note : but it was so completely disguised that even if I should have known the original in its natural, fluency, I could not identify it with this altered style of penmanship. But other reflections now gradually entered my mind. From the very first I had thought my mistress wrong in taking a governess without proper testimonials and references : — should I now become an accomplice in the consummation of what I had too much reason to suspect was an imposture and a cheat ? — though to what extent the intention might reach, or wherefore it was practised at all, I was utterly unable to conjecture. I was at first inclined to retrace my way to the villa and show the billet to Mrs. Eobinson : but then it suddenly struck me that the writer might possibly be An- nabel, who, driven by paternal tyranny from her home, was now seeking to earn the bread of an honest industry. Still, methought, she would scarcely have written in so mysterious a style — unless it were to render her communication as guarded as possible, through fear of not being able to rely upon the messenger to whom it was en- trusted. Finally, after well weighing the matter in my mind, I resolved to wait until the evening, and see who the governess should really prove to be, and what explanations might be given by her. It would then be time to act, if a sense of duty should compel me to take any positive step in the matter. I hastened on towards Eyde in the hope of over- taking the boy who had thrust the note into my hand : but he had evidently far outstripped me — and I saw nothing of him. Having acquitted myself of the mission with which I was charged, I 163 JOSEPH WIIMOT; OR, THE MEMOIES OF A MAN- SERVANT. retraced my way homeward j and the remainder of that day, till the evening, was passed by me in the keenest suspense. I however concealed my agi- tation from my fellow-servants as well as I was able ; and I believe that I did so eflectuaUy. The room for the governess was already prepared ; and the servants speculated as to what kind of a young person she would prove to be. Every time there was a knock and ring at the front-door, I hastened to ansv\er the summons with a violent palpitation of the heart. Was I soon to see Annabel? and if not she, whom else should I recognise under the name of Matilda Palmer ? At length — a little before nine o'clock — a ve- hicle stopped at the gate of the front garden : it was one of the flys which ply for hire in Hyde. I hastened forth : the driver was lifting down a box. I opened the door of the vehicle ; and in the obscurity which prevailed at that hour — there being no lamps at the garden-gate to throw a light into the chaise — I discerned the figure of a female dressed in deep black, and with a thick veil over her countenance. She alighted : and while avail- ing herself of my arm to descend, caught my hand and pressed it warmly — even passionately. I trembled all over — for a suspicion of the real truth flashed at the instant through my mindj and as the driver conveyed the box into the house, she flung up her veil, revealing the countenance of Lady Calanthe Dundas ! That suspicion which a moment before had seized upon me, was confirmed. Grood heavens ! what folly was this ? I was stricken speechless with mingled amazement and vexation. " Joseph — dearest Joseph, it is for your sake I have done this !" murmured Calanthe, as she again pressed my hand fervidly between both her own. I could not answer a word. There were volumes on the tip of my tongue— a hurricane of language ready to burst forth, in the form of remonstrances, upbraldings, and questionings : but the spell of stupefaction and bewilderment scaled my lips. The driver, having deposited the trunk in the hall, came forth from the house : Lady Calanthe paid him his fare — and then hurried forward to the front-door, which stood open. One of the maid-servants was awaiting her in the h;ill; and she could not therefore bestow another word upon me : nor could I, even if the faculty of speech were restored, utter a single syllable of all that I longed to say to her. When the hall was reached, I per- ceived, by the light burning there, that Calanthe was plainly and neatly dressed in deep mourning, — her garb being exactly suitable to her assumed condition of a governess. Her countenance was pale ; and though expressing nothing particular to a common observer, yet methought I could read beneath It a certain excitement and agitation, which, indeed, she might well be supposed to ex- perience under the extraordinary circumstances in which she had thus willingly placed herself. She was shown up first of all to her own chamber ; and afterwards introduced into the presence of Mrs. Robinson in the drawing-room; while I, pleading sudden indisposition, so as to avoid remaining in the company of my fellow-servants, hiu-rled up to my chamber. I feared lest they should mark the trouble which my own looks displayed : for it was, in sooth, a profound trouble that was now agitat- ing me. When alone In my chamber, I was some time before I could settle my thoughts to calm and de- liberate reflection. It was but too evident, from what Calanthe herself had hurriedly whispered to me on alighting from the vehicle, that the mad step she had taken was to be ascribed to her equally mad passion for me. More than ever did I curse my own folly and want of moral courage in not having revealed to her the true state of my aflfections when at Myrtle Lodge : — more than ever, too, did I deplore that interruption to our inter- view in the arbour at Cheltenham. Had a proper explanation been given on either of those occasions, she would have been spared the foUy and the rash- ness — the madness indeed— ^of her present pro* ceeding. But now that explanation must be given as speedily as possible : Annabel must not again be outraged by the reception on my part of Ga- lanthe's caresses ! And yet I trembled — nay, more, I shuddered at the Idea of the fearful humiliation and the excruciating disappointment which Lord MandeviUe's daughter would inevitably experience, when learning that all her stratagem had been thrown away on one who loved her not. To con- fess the truth, I wept tears of anguish as these re- flections passed through my mind. I pictured to myself Calanthe having stealthily quitted the pa- ternal home — compromising herself In every way — disguising her patrician rank under an assumed name — humbling herself to the position of a gover- ness — seeking a place where she would be at the mercy of spoilt and ill-tempered children (as Mrs. Robinson's were) — exposed to whatsoever harsh words that lady might at any time be led to fling out against her — flying from that sphere of society to which she properly belonged — abandoning posi- tion, comfort, and the chance of forming a brilliant alliance — making, in short, every possible sacrifice for the sake of that love which she bore towards me. And I Oh ! my heart was convulsed with grief, as I thought that it was utterly impossible I could afibrd any adequate return — but that, on the contrary, the very first words which I must utter when opportunity should serve, would be the avowal that I loved her not, and had never loved her! But I will not weary the reader with any more of the harrowing — excruciating reflections in which I was plunged in the solitude of my chamber on this particular night. I sought my couch — but it was a long time ere slumber visited my eyes ; and when it came at last, it was accompanied with dis- agreeable dreams. On descending to the kitchen in the morning, my fellow-servants were kind In their inquiries relative to my health : and I assured them that I was somewhat better. At breakfast-time they were talking of the governess, on whose personal ap- pearance they lavished the highest praise. The lady's-maid, who had hitherto seen most of Ca- lanthe, was also eulogistic in respect to her soft and amiable manners, — adding that there was no assumption and no undue pretension about her : but that she seemed an agreeable, unassuming young person. I listened In silence, — having the greatest difficulty to prevent my looks fi-om be- traying the agitation of my feelings. When the morniug repast was over, and I had to attend to my various household duties, I dreaded at every turn to encounter Calanthe : for, imtil a full op- JOSEPH WILMOT ; OH, THE riEMCIHS O? A MAN-SERVAHT. IS'? portunity should present itself for the expla- ) nations I was resolved to give, I did not wish to | become the object of even a single fond look or a I passing word expressive of affection, which, to my mind, would render me a traitor to my adored An- | nabel. [ It was however soon evident that Calanthe did j not at once devise opportunities to throw herself ^ in my way. She doubtless fully appreciated the , necessity of acting with the utmost caution. Several days passed; and I saw her but on three or four occasions — and then only for an instant. Each time she bent upon me a look of ineffable tenderness : but her eyes were too quickly averted again, to enable her to perceive the expression of blended mournfulness and upbraiding which my own countenance wore. She was completely upon her guard, — not even trusting herself to touch my hand, or linger for an instant in the hall or on the stairs, for fear lest the proceeding might be ob- j served by others. She passed all the forenoon in an apartment appropriated for the instruction of the children : she dined with them at two o'clock : then she took them out for a walk — had tea with them at six— and when they went to bed at eight, repaired to the drawing-room to pass a couple of hours with ilrs. Eobinson. But even this little relief from the monotony of that life which she had voluntarily embraced, she only enjoyed by express invitation : she never of her own accord intruded in the drawing-room unless in compliance with a message expressly sent up by Mrs. Eobinson, asking for her presence. Little did my mistress think that in the governess whose habits were so regular — whose demeanour was so respectful — who was so patient and pains-taking in the task of tuition, was a young lady of the highest birth, and whose proper place was in the brilliant saloons of fashionable life. The oftener I thought of the immensity of that sacrifice which had been made for me, the more excruciating became my anguish at the idea of giving those explanations for which I only awaited a proper opportunity, and which I knew would in a moment dissipate all the fond illusions cherished by the loving and tender Ca- lanthe Dundas. On several occasions I reflected maturely whe- ther it were not better to commit those explana- tions to paper, and slip the letter into her ladyship's hands : but I know not how it was — I dreaded to undertake the task. Perhaps, if the truth were confessed, I was still deficient in the requisite amoimt of moral courage ; and like all persons under similar circumstances, postponed the evil moment as long as possible. I even endea- voured to persuade myself that I should be bettcir er.abled to accomplish that imperious duty, and should have more courage for the purpose, if the opportunity presented itself suddenly, than if it were deliberately sought through the medium of correspondence. Wretched, wretched sophistry, with which I sought to palliate my weakness, or excuse it in my own eyes ! Thus a fortnight passed ; and during this inter- val I never once found myself sufficiently alone with Lady Calanthe to address her a single word. We merely passed each other occasionally ; and she was too much on her guard to linger for even an instant. The expressive look was bestowed upon me— the fine dark eyes which dealt it, were instantaneously withdrawn, lest some observer at the moment, unseen by us, should surprise that significant glance : and thus was I dwelling be- neath the same roof with one whom I knew loved me madly, and whom I had not as yet been enabled to disabuse in respect to the condition of my own heart. My existence was a most painful one. I was constantly compelled to hear the ser- vants lavishing the highest praises upon Miss Palmer ; and even the ayah herself, in her wretched broken English, chimed in with the chorus. My opinion was often asked : — sometimes I was too much abstracted to give a response : at other times I started involuntarily, and ejaculated some vague and incoherent reply, which made all my fellow- domestics gaze upon me till I was overwhelmed with confusion. And this confusion on my part was one day completely crowned, w-hen the lady's- maid, in a jocular and good-natured mood, ex- claimed, " I do really believe that Joseph is in love with the beautiful Miss Palmer !" CHAPTER XXXV. THE OPPOEXCNITT. One day — a little more than a fortnight after Calanthe's arrival at the house— we were thrown together. The month of October was drawing on towards its close — the cold weather was setting in — and Mrs. Eobinson, who disliked every kind of trouble, requested the governess to walk into the town and make the necessary purchases to supply the children with warmer raiment. Mrs. Eobinson herself was that day in a humour to have the children with her ; and she was moreover fearful that if they walked about too much while Miss Palmer was shopping, they would be over -fatigued: she therefore kept them at the house, and Calanthe set off alone to Eyde. It happened that Mrs. Eobinson had received a letter that morning from some friends in Loudon, giving her notice of a basket of game which had been transmitted as a present ; and she therefore desired me to proceed to the town and procure it at the steam-packet office, where it would be waiting. I received this instruction about three quarters of an hour after Calanthe had issued forth ; and as I went along, I said to myself that now I should doubtless have the wished-for oppor- tunity of explaining myself to her : for it was almost certain that we should meet in so small a place as Eyde. A feeling of terror came over mc — a sensation of moral weakness and of failing courage which made me suddenly stop short in the middle of the road, and ask myself, " Is it possible, Joseph WUmot, that you are a coward ?" I put the question aloud; and then louder stUl, I exclaimed, " 2\o, no ! It shall be done !" — but I felt that it was with a sort of desperate effort that I thus answered my own self-put query. I con- tinued my way in a restless antl uneasy state of mind, — doing all I could to centre my thoughts upon the image of Annabel, and invoking that image as a good genius to aid and encourage mie in the performance of my duty. I entered the tovrn, and repaired to the office: but the hamper had not yet arrived — and a porter 168 JOSEPH WIIMOT; OE, THE MEM01H3 OF A MAN-SEEVANX. there promised that it should be brought to Oval Villa the moment it came. I issued from the office, and bent my way through the principal Btreets, — looking into the largest and best linen- drapers' shops with the expectation of seeing Calanthe. But I found her not. Then I thought that as she was so much in advance of me at starting, she might have finished her shopping j and was on her way homeward. I hurried in that direction ; and on the outskirt of the town | caught sight of her proceeding along. I was I 80on in the trace of her footsteps : my heart beat [ quickly: — what now would be the issue of the j interview which was at hand ? O Annabel ! again I did I invoke thine image to inspire me with j courage ; and it was almost with a feeling of rage that I was compelled to acknowledge to myself that I had not the adequate amount of fortitude for the crisis ! Lady Calanthe was walking on in front. She looked not to the right nor to the left ; and me- thought by the gentle inclination of her head, that her eyes were bent downward — perhaps in medi- tation. And if so, on what subject? Ah! was she cradled in those illusions which now it was my duty to dissipate? I lingered behind her. What elegance — what grace did that symmetrical form display! how much unstudied elasticity of movement — as if her tread were of airy lightness ! The idea intruded upon me in spite of myself — in spite, too, of all my devotion to Annabel — that the black raiment became Calanthe's symmetrical figure admirably, and set it off to the utmost ad- vantage. But angry with myself for allowing these reflections to pass through my mind, or even linger for a moment there, I quickened my pace, nerving my soul ■with all its fortitude for the ac- complishment of my task. I was now speedily by Ler side ; and as she heard footsteps close by, she glanced hurriedly over her shoulder, while she made way on the path for whomsoever it might be to pass. " Joseph ? What happiness !" she exclaimed, the animation of joy suddenly suffusing her coun- tenance. "This is the opportunity I have so much longed for — but which I was too cautious to forestall by any device of my own!" "And I also have awaited this opportunity with much impatience," was my immediate an- swer. " Good heavens ! how could you have taken such a step as this ?" " What, Joseph ?" she said, looking very hard at me, as if fancying that she could not have rightly comprehended my words, or read the ex- pression of my looks : " would you reproach me ?" and the sudden sinking of that bright animation of her handsome countenance into the deepest mourn- fulness, struck like a heavy blow upon my heart. " Lady Calanthe," I said, mustering up all my fortitude, "the time has come when you must hear me." " Let us hasten this way," she exclaimed ab- ruptly, and at the same moment diverged into a narrow lane : " we may be noticed in the high road. Joseph, what would you mean me to un- derstand P Heavens ! is it possible that you are not sensible of all the tremendous saeridces I have made for your sake ? Look at these mourning garments. They are a hideous mockery : no re- lative of mine has died that I should wear them. I am literally clothed with hypocrisy — and all for the love that I bear you ! It was part and parcel of the tale which I had to devise to obtain admis- sion into the house where you dwelt. Oh, but this is the very least of the sacrifices I have made ! A home stealthily left — parents, brothers, sisters, plunged into the deepest consternation at my sud- den disappearance — my reputation ruined, or at least only to be saved by eventual marriage with you Joseph, I could not bear to reflect on all I have done, if it were not that I glory in every sacrifice which is made for your sake !" " Oh, this is dreadful !" I murmured to myself: and I was totally disarmed of all my fortitude. " Your nature is .more prudent and cautious than mine," Calanthe hastened to resume, bending upon me looks of the tenderest love ; " and there- fore you tremble at aU I do for your sake. But fear not ! My plans are fixed — and they shall be realized. We are both very j-oung : let us each agree to toil on for a few years — let us accumulate whatsoever savings we can : and then, Joseph " " Calanthe," I exclaimed wildly , " you drive me mad !" She fell back from me as if suddenly stricken by a heavy blow ; and her eyes were fixed upon my countenance with mingled amazement and alarm. " Good heavens ! what mean you, Joseph ?" she cried, trembling all over. '• A horrible suspi- cion has entered my head dispel it, or confirm it let me know the best or the worst at once ! Speak, Joseph ! Now that I bethink me of your manner and the expressions you msde use of during our brief interview at Cheltenham But no : it cannot be ! I am not deceived in you ! — tell me — toll me that I am not deceived in you it would be my death !" She spoke vehemently, and with an awful trou- ble upon her coimtenance, which became pale as death. She seized my hands, and looked up with imploring anxiety into my face. My heart was nearly broken: 1 felt bound to tell the truth; and yet it was the very bitterness of crucifixion itself to accomplish the task. "Calanthe," I said, with a sudden access of courage which surprised myself; '• for God's sake compose your feelings hear me 1 have a revelation to make prepare to receive it " "Anything, anything," she murmured in a dying tone, " but the assurance that you do not love me !" "Calanthe, I esteem you — I would lay down my life to serve you — as a friend ^but my I heart " "Enough!" — and she staggered back, so that , at the next instant she would have fallen, had I j not caught her in my arms, — where she lay for several moments like one drooping off slowly into ! a swoon. I "Oh! pardon in»«~forgive me," I exclaimed, "if I did not tell you all this before. I sought opportimities at Myrtle Lodge : but I was weak ] — I was feeble of purpose And then, too, you never received that letter in which I told you all, and in which I besought your pardon for not hav- ' ing been candid and frank before ! That night at ; Cheltenham, I was about to explain everything — if you recollect my words you will see that such j was my purpose " j " Enough, Joseph !" she cried, suddenly : andaa josi:rii wiLiror ; cxt, 'lUE memoies or a max-sekvant. 169 suddenly too disengaging Iicrsclf from my arms, she seemed to muster up all the energies of her naturally powerful soul. " Yeu do not love me," she went on to say, in a low deep tone ; and her countenance was of a death-like palloi*. " Then you must love another : for if your heart were dis- engaged, it could not have remained insensible to sucli an affection as I have experienced for you. Who is this other ? where lives she ?" '• In London," I answered, feeling that she had a right thus to question me. "In London," rejjeated Calanthe, in a strange abstracted manner : and then for a few moments she appeared to meditate profoundly. "Joseph," she at length went on to say, " you have not acted well towards me : hut I will not reproach you. Tou have been deficient in candour ; and you can- not but understand that I feel deeply humiliated — deplonably wpetched. I am lost through you !" — 22 and now she shivered visibly, as if an icy tremor were passing through her form from head to foot. " Oh ! what can I do — what can I say F"' I exclaimed, with a riven heart at the spectacle of that illimitable woe which my own want of moral courage had mainly brought about. " Nothing," answered Calanthe, now speaking gently and mildly. " I repeat the assurance that I will not reproach you. On the contrary, I for- give you — yes, from the very bottom of my soul do I forgive you, Joseph ! I love you too well not to proclaim this pardon with the utmost sincerity ; and I have already made too many sacrifices for your sake, not to resign myself to the last one a broken heart !" "My God, Ca'antlie ! speak not thus mourn- fully !" I exclaimjd : and in the wildness of my distracting thoughts, I anathematized myself for having revealed tlic truth. 170 JOSEPH WILMOT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAlf-SERVA-NT. " It is now for me," continued the young lady, " to enjoin you to compose your feelings. You are well aware, Joseph, that I have abandoned home — prospects — everything, for your sake ; and now I must accept resignedly the lot which I first sought for the purpose of being beneath the same roof as you. Oh, what wild ecstatic schemes had I formed ! and how cruelly have they been de- stroyed ! Methought that we might dwell in the same house, content with the pleasure of occa- sionally beholding each other and exchanging a fond look — until the time should come when faith, endurance, patience, and love would be crowned vrith happiness as their reward. But the dream is gone. Oh, it was too bright and beautiful to last and I should have mistrusted it from the very first !" Calanthe turned aside for a moment, and raised her kerchief to her countenance. She had been speaking in a low plaintive tone — a voice full of the most touching pathos — and with looks of ten- derness indescribably mournful. But she felt not more wretched than I : it is a question whether her misery was so acute and rending as that which was ex^j ■•ienced by myself. For even in the depth of her sorrow, there was a certain blending of re- signed courage, which I myself did not possess. Now that I saw her weeping, my heart was rent with excruciating tortures ; and wildly and loudly did I inveigh, with bitterest ;;oproaches, against myself. " Be composed, Joseph," said Calanthe, again turning upon me her pale countenance, and smiling the sweetness of encouragement. " You see that I am not incensed against you ; my very humilia- tion gives no harsh impulse to my thoughts or my demeanour. We may yet remain friends — if no other feeling can exist between us. And you will be performing a friendly part if you continue to keep my secret and betray not the truth of my real position — a betrayal which would literally de- prive me of the means of earning my bread." " Good heavens !" I exclaimed, astounded and horrified at the utter desolation of hopes and pro- spects which these last words all in a moment spread before my view, and of which this unfortu- nate young lady had become the victim through her love for me : — " do you for an instant think of continuing where you are ? will you not hasten back to yoiu- home ?" " Joseph, I have no home now," she answered, with a profoundly mournful look. " Oh ! and it is I who have been the means of depriving you of it !" I exclaimed, feeling so des- perate that at the moment I could have laid violent hands upon myself. '• But tell me that I have not heard aright — tell me that the doors of the paternal mansion will yet be open to you !" " Think you, Joseph, that even if the stern and proud Earl of MandevUle would receive the daughter who has fled from beneath his roof, that this daughter herself would return to where her soul would be crushed and her spirit broken by jeers and taunts, by harshest tyramiy, and by every kind of injurious suspicion ? Oo you not see, Joseph," she continued, earnestly but not bitterly, " that my reputation is gone — and that Lady Calanthe Dundas must hencefort;^ conceal herself beneath the bumble pseudonym of Matilda Pal- mer !" '• Good God, what a wreck has my weakness \vrought !" I exclaimed, half frantic at all I heard and all I had to reflect upon. " Blame not yourself," responded Calanthe, in the softest tones of her melodious voice : " for I do not blame you. "We must separate now, Joseph : I dare not remain longer absent. Henceforth we are to be friends. ■ We shall live beneath the same roof; and rest assured that your welfare will ever be most dear to me. Eeep my secret : this is all I conjure you — this is all I ask. Compose your feelings — and be guarded. Once more remember that my very bread is now dependent upon your prudence 1" She proffered me her hand : I was in such a cruelly bewildered state of mind that I knew not what I did — and I pressed it to my lips, moisten- ing it with the tears which flowed in torrents from my eyes. Calanthe, likewise overcome by her emotions, sank into my arms : \ strained her to my breast, as if by that most unwise and inju- dicious display of feeling I sought to indemnify her for the terrific woes she endured on my account. I covered her cheeks with kisses ; and she smiled sweetly and softly, as if with the happiness of a last embrace ere resigning herself to look upon the ruin of the hopes which she had cherished. Those very smiles on her part deepened my own afflic- tion. Had she stormed and raved, and treated me with indignation and hauteur, or with an outburst of fury, I should have been far less moved : but the forgiveness she had so sincerely proffered — her mild and gentle behaviour — and the patience with which she submitted to humiliation and disap- pointment, called forth all the tenderest feelings of my heart. " Now I must hasten homeward," she said : and bending upon me another look of plaintive earnest- ness — bestowing upon me likewise another soft and melting smUe — she hurried away. I lingered in the lane for about a quarter of an hour, ere I also bent my steps towards the villa. I felt that I had again been traitorous towards Annabel : but a thousand excuses readily started up in my mind. I persuaded myself that it was but with the feeling of a brother towards a sister that I had embraced Calanthe ; and that it was in the spu'it of the purest, chastest consolation I had imprinted kisses upon her cheeks. I marvelled to myself that she had treated me with so much kindness. I knew that she possessed a proud spirit ; and now that I reviewed the scene which had just passed, I, wondered that she had not overwhelmed me with her indignant reproaches. I felt as if under the deepest obligation to her — that she had every claim upon my friendship — and that she was a being to be adrnired and esteemed, if not positively loved. " But I will be as a brother imto her \" I ex- claimed, while thus giving way to my reflections ; " and she shall be as a very dear sister unto me ! For my sake she has made the utmost sacrifices which woman could possibly accomplish ; and it behoves me to watch over her welfare — to soothe and console her — to lighten as much as I can the heavy burthen of affliction which weighs upon her soul. Yes, Calanthe— I will not plunge another dagger into your bosom : I have already injui'ed you enough ! When I nest see Annabel, I will tell her everything — I will confess to her all that JOSEPH WIIMOT; OE, THE MFMOIES OF A MAX-SERVANT 171 liiis taken place : slic shall know you, Calanthe — and you will love each other like sisters ! If for- tune should sooner or later be favourable, and enable me to make Annabel my wife, — you, Ca- lanthe, will find a home -with us ; and it will be our study to soothe your wounderl spirit, and by our kindness compensate you as much as possible for the sacrifices you have made !" It was thus that in the wildness of my thoughts I apostrophized Calanthe Dundas, as I walked to and fro with hurried and agitated steps in the lane where we had parted. After a while I retraced my way homeward ; and I was glad when night came, that I might retire to the solitude of my own chamber and commune once more with my- self. CHAPTEE XXXVI. HICHAED FEANKIIIf. A MONTH passed without any incident worthy of record. As a matter of course I frequently met Calanthe in the house : there was always the rapid look of recognition, and always the quickly vanish- ing smile : but not a word passed between us — and we were not again thrown iu each other's way for any length of lime. But I must observe that during this interval a certain Mr. Franklin became a very frequent visitor at the house, — chiefly how- ever dropping in of an evening between eight and ten. He belonged to a family living in Eyde, and with whom Mrs. Eobinson was on very good terms : indeed they were the "most intimate friends she seemed to possess in the neighbourhood. Richard Franklin was certainly a handsome young man — about two-and-twenty years of ag3 — taU and well made — with dark hair and eyes — and an aquiline profile. He was an only son : bis parents were very well off; and moreover himself, as well as his three sisters, had all received rich bequests from an uncle who had died some time back. Eiehard Franklin was therefore a most eligible match for any young lady of his acquaintance : he had the repuft of being a steady, well-conducted young man— with no false pride, — and was there- fore likely enough to marry where his heart should be engaged, rather than for the mere purpose of increasing his worldly possessions. This gentleman it was who had latterly become a very frequent visitor at Oval Villa ; and when I noticed that his calls were chiefly made in the evening, just at those hours which Calanthe was accustomed to pass with Mrs. Eobinson in the drawing-room, I experienced a growing despond- ency of spu'its, the cause of which I did not dare acknowledge to myself. To a certain extent I began to conceive a dislike for Mr. Eiehard Frank- lin ; and this was all the more unwarrantable, as he invariably treated me with as much kindness as our relative positions in life enabled him to show. I was often vexed and annoyed at myself on account of that increasing sentiment of aversion towards a young gentleman of most amiable cha- racter : but I could not control it — much less subdue it entirely. One evening, as I answered the summons of the drawing-room bell, I perceived — on entering the apartment — that Eiehard Franklin and Calanthe were seated together at a table, looking over a portfolio of prints, which he had brought for the piu'pose. He was making some lively remark at the time ; and Calanthe laughed with a degree of merriment which did me harm to hear it. They were seated close to each other ; and methought that there was a certain degree of intimacy abeady established between them — a familiarity which, though without the slightest shade of impropriety, was nevertheless somewhat too great to ha-gc been encouraged by a young lady who had so recently made such immense sacrifices for my sake. Mrs. Eobinson was half reclinmg upon a sofa, according to her wont ; and I would have given the world to be enabled to whisper in her ear, that having so beautiful a governess under her roof, she did wrong to encourage the visits of a young gentle- man. But of course I dared not take such an immense liberty ; and I quitted the room with a feeling of vexation and annoyance which I no longer endeavoured to conceal from myself. On descending to the kitchen, I found the ser- vants talking of Eiehard Franklin. " It will b'? an excellent thing for 3Iiss Palmer, if it should take place," observed the cook. "Depend upon it," said the lady's-maid, " young Mr. Franklin is smitten in that quarter. He comes nearly every evening now — and always at about eight o'clock." " I wonder whether missus suspects anything ?" exclaimed the cook. " Supposing she does," rejoined the lady's-maid, " Mr. Franklin is a very honourable young man — everybody knows that — and ho would not trifle with a young girl's affections. No, no ! Eest assured that if he is paying his attentions to Miss Palmer — he means to make her an ofler — and I shoiddn't at all wonder that when she is out of mourning, she will become a bride. But what, in heaven's name, Joseph, is the matter with you ?" '•'I — I it is nothing only a slight head- ache 1 have not been well for the last day or two :" — and vainly did I endeavour to throw off the confusion which had seized upon me. "On my word!" cried the lady's-maid, "I do really think that what I said to you in joke some time ago, is the actual truth. Doeso't he look just for all the world as if he was in love ? Why, you silly young man — you don't think that Miss Palmer, though only a governess " " I beg you will not address me in this manner," I interrupted her, for the first time displaying anything akin to iU-humour towards a fellow- servant. "Well, Joseph," said the lady's-maid, very seri- ously, " I didn't mean to offend you : but I cannot help thinking that you really are smitten with Miss Palmer — and that is the truth." I answered not another word: but snatching up a candlestick, retired to my own chamber. There I sat down, and began to reflect that I had acted very foolishly, and had cut a very ridiculous figure indeed in the presence of my fellovi'-servants. I had angrily met something which was said in a mere jesting mood ; and by my abrupt departure from the kitchen, I had given confirmation to the suspicion which had been thrown out. I felt ex- ceedingly vexed and dissatisfied with myself : but I could not tranquUlize my perturbed spirit: I did 172 JOSEPH TTILMOT; OK, THE MEMOIRS OV A MAN-SEnTA^T. not like that spectacle of Eichard Franklia and Lady Calanthe sitting so close together, and with a certain degree of intimacy established between them. And I asked myself wherefore I should be annoyed ? Did I love Calanthe ? Oh, no ! all my heart was devoted to Annabel. But why, then, was I jealous ? — for jealousy it assuredly was. Ought I not, on the contrary, to be pleased with the prospect of Lady Calanthe's marrying a young gentleman who would give her a home and position instead of that home and that position which she Lad lost ? All ! it was all very fine to reason in this manner : but I could not bring myself to like Eichard Franklin — nor to look pleasantly on his visits : whUe at the same time I thought that Ca- lanthe could not have loved me so very much after all, if she were able thus soon to transfer her affections to another. In short, I went to bed in a strange stale of excitement, vowing that I loved Annabel as much as ever, and yet wishing that Lady Calanthe had neyer known E-icbard Franklin. On the following morning, when I descended from my chamber, I resolved by the amiability of my conduct, to make as much amends as possible for the rudeness with which I had treated my fellow-servants on the previous evening. They were naturally good-natured, and bore me no rancour : besides, I was a favourite with them ; and they willingly accepted my altered demeanour as an atonement for the uncouth abruptness of which I was so heartily ashamed. But still I had not succeeded in bringing myself to regard with indifference the visits of Eichard Franklin to the house ; and the conversation which I had heard pass on the subject between my fellow-domestics, haunted me like a troubled vision. I longed to get out into the fresh air, and give unrestrained flow to my thoughts, without the chance of be- traying them to observers by my countenance. I was therefore very glad when, on answering the summons of the parlour-bell, I was directed by Mrs. Eobinson to go to Eyde and give some orders to the tradesmen with whom she dealt. As I pro- ceeded to the town, I endeavoured to analyze my feelings completely. I asked myself if I still loved Annabel as much as ever ? and I exclaimed aloud, " Yes, yes ! how could it be possibly otherwise P" — yet at the same time I thought of Calanthe's handsome countenance — her beautiful figure — the music of her voice — and her elegant manners. " But," I said to myself, " Aimabel is more lovely — more charming than Calanthe. Ah ! it is doubtless because I have vowed a brotherly friend- ship for Calanthe, that I am vexed she should think of forming an alliance without consulting me. Yet what claim have I upon her confidence ? I may be nothing more to her— and assuredly she ought to be nothing to me. No : let her marry Eichard Frankhn — the sooner the better! for then my peace of mind will doubtless be restored. An- nabel — sweetest Annabel ! never, never will I prove treacherous to you ! It is impossible ! your image must always be uppermost in my mind : to you is my heart's devotion given !" And yet, at the very instant that I was thus mentally apostrophizing the ethereal image of the beauteous Annabel, I felt a pang of jealousy on account of Calanthe and Eichard Franklin. Angry with myself, I quickened my pace, as if to escape froi)) the conflicting nature of my thoughts — and gained the town as speedily as possible. Having discharged the commissions entrusted to me, I was returning homeward, — when at the corner of a street, whom should I behold, walking arm- in-arm, but Eichard Franklin and Lady Calanthe ? If any doubt had previously remained in my mind as to the jealous nature of the feeling that I en- tertained on their account, it was now completely cleared up. Yes — I was jealous : a pang shot through my heart — a sickness seized upon me, as I beheld Lady Calanthe hanging to that young man's arm. I followed mechanically: it seemed to me as if she had no right to be on terms of intimacy with any one but myself. A dozen pro- jects swept through my mind. I would hasten my steps, pass them by, and look pointedly at her. But no ! this would be the height of rudeness and impertinence on the part of a menial who ought only to touch his hat respectfully to them both. Then I would follow them whithersover they went — see how long they remained together — watch thcLr looks — and ascertain, as well as I could, whether their discourse was of a tender nature. But if they suddenly turned and perceived me, I should feel remarkably little, mean, and foolish ; and therefore this project would not do. No : but I would seek an opportunity of demanding expla- nations of Calanthe. Explanations indeed ! — what right had I to seek for any ? and would she not be justified in treating me with the haughtiest indig- nation ? Nothing that I thought of, could I carry into effect. I was strangely excited — cruelly be- wildered. But all of a sudden Franklin and Calanthe stopped short : they shook hands — he took off his hat to make a parting bow — and as she entered a mercer's shop, he departed in another direction. I was not thirty yards distant from where this took place : and it struck me that Calanthe, glancing aside ere she entered the shop, caught sight of me. AVould she think that I had been watching them ? I hoped not : I did not wish to seem so little in her eyes. Hastily turning back, so as not to pass the shop, I plunged into a diverging street ; and by making a short circuit, gained the road leading to the villa. For a few minutes I walked along without looking behind me,— stru|fgUng against the painfully jealous feelings which had been ex- cited in my soul — ^endeavouring to force myself into a more generous and magnanimous train of thought — and likewise striving to fix my medita- tions completely on the image of Annabel. I waa in a strange state of mind. If anybody had sud- denly come to tell me that Annabel was about to bestow her hand upon another, I should have turned frantic : but, by a monstrous idiosyncracy, I could not bear the idea that Calanthe should bestow her own affection upon another ! Did I love them both ? I said to myself that this was impossible. Yet wherefore, if I loved Annabel only, was I jealous of Eichard Franklin's atten- tions to Calanthe ? I could not tell. All in a moment the intuitive conviction seemed to spring up in my mind that Calanthe was behind me. I looked back : and sure enough, she was advancing at but a short distance. I oould not help stopping till she overtook me : it would have been the height of rudeness and churlishness to have avoided her. I gazed upon her countenance, which appeared to wear a certain degree of JOSEPH WILMOT ; OB, THE MEMOIRS OF A JtAN-SEKVANT. 173 satisfaetiou— though very slight indeed — and per- haps altogether imaginary on my part. Never- theless, methought her features did express that look : and again did the coiled-up reptile of jeal- ousy lift its head in my heart. " MTiat brought you into the town, Joseph ?" inquired Calanthe, giving mo her hand : while at ttie same instant she glanced rapidly round, doubt- less to assure herself that no observer was nigh. Ah! thought I to myself, she would not have taken this precaution if it were Eichard Franklin that she met : but he was a gentleman, and I was only a livery-servant, with whom of course it would not be convenient for her to be seen shaking hands and conversing. " I came," was my answer, coldly delivered, as I scarcely pressed the proffered hand, " to execute some commissions for Mrs. Kobinson." " And I have been shopping on my own ac« count," observed Calanthe : and I was still more vexed with her, because she did not seem to notice the indifference with which I received her hand, nor the coldness with which my words were spoken. " I thought you generally took out the children at this hour ?" I remarked curtly. " Not when I go shopping," she responded quietly : " because Mrs. Robinson is afraid the children will be fatigued." " Besides," I said, with malice in my tone, " you found a companion in Eyde ; and therefore you did not want to be troubled with the girls." " Ah ! then you saw me there ?" observed Calanthe, still in the same quiet way as before. "Yes — I met Mr. Franklin, who was polite enough to offer me his arm along the street." " And of course you were very glad to accept it?" I rejoined, with a rudeness for which the next instant I found myself blushing. " Yes : I was very glad," she answered, with continued serenity ; " because it is sometimes unpleasant for a young lady to walk about alone." " And I dare say," was my next remark, " that Mr. Franklin is a very agreeable companion." " He is considered to be a young gentleman of very courteous manners and intellectual conversa- tion," replied Calanthe. " You will admit, Joseph, that he is exceedingly handsome : although, I be- lieve, persons of your sex do not pay particular notice to your mutual good looks ?" "But I have observed that Mr. Franklin is very handsome," was my response, given with even a tinge of bitterness : " and it is evident that you think so likewise." " To be sure I do ! And why not ?" exclaimed Calanthe, now bending her eyes upon me with a look of astonishment. My own gaze sank beneath her's ; and I walked on in silence by her side for a few moments, biting my lips. I now noticed that we had en- tcred that very same lane where about a month back our explanations had taken place. I could not remember whether I inyself had just been purposely leading the way into that Jane; or whether Calanthe had done so, and I had accom- panied her as I mechanically walked by her side. Nevertheless, certain it is that there we were ; and the circumstance brought vividly and keenly back to my memory every detail of the scene which had occurred in this lane four weeks previously. Here, too, was the spot where the explanations had been given — the spot where she spoke of the immense sacrifices she had made on my account — the spot where I had beheld her ineffable anguish, and had endured my own — the spot where she lay drooping in my arms, and my kisses and tears were showered upon her cheeks. Good heavens ! I thought tu myself, but one short month back she had ap- peared to love me almost to madness; and now she had been coolly eulogizing the personal and intellectual qualities of another. I trembled from head to foot with an unnatural excitement : I was a prey to the demon of jealousy: the image of Annabel appeared to be receding and fading away into the mists of distance ;— and unablo to re- strain my feelings, I stopped suddenly short, mut- tering in a hoarse voice, " Calanthe, you love Bichard Franklin !" " Wherefore do you think so P" she asked, a strange and scarcely comprehensible animation spreading over her countenance: yet methought at the instant it was a glow of pleasure at the mention of Franklin's namo. " Wherefore do I think so ?" I exclaimed. " Can you deny it ?" " If it be so, what reason have I for denying it?" said Calanthe: "and if it be not, why should I be called upon to give you any assurance on tlie subject ?" — but yet she spoke not angrily, though still with that singular animation of coun- tenance. " True !" I ejaculated. " I have no right to question you. And yet " " And yet what, Joseph ?" she asked, still gazing upon me strangely. " And yet I fancied," I went on to say rapidly — for my mind was full of excitement, — " that there was a friendship existing between us : I flattered myself that I was not altogether xm- worthy of your confidence " " Supposing that I had any confidence to im- part," she interrupted me, softly and gently, — ■ "what opportunity have we hitherto found for discourse since the last time we met here ?" " Ah ! the last time we met here !" I exclaimed bitterly. " But it is true we have had no oppor- tunitj'. Now, however, that it is obtained, you will perhaps treat me as a friend a brother " " Oh certainly !" replied Calanthe. " What do you wish ?" " Your confidence," I quickly responded. "But in what respect?" she asked: and me- thought there was a certain tremulousness in her voice — a strange flashing of the eyes — as well as the glow of that scarcely comprehensible anima- tion still upon her coimtenance. "You ask for my confidence : tell me in what respect you re- quire it ?" " I have already said that you Icrve Richard Franklin : is it not so P" — and it was with a sort of shivering suspense that I awaited the answer. " But teU me, Joseph," said Calanthe, still with her gaze fixed upon me, — " if I were to confess to you that I have not viewed Mr. Franklin with in- difference — if I were to avow that his intentions had pleased me — and that the peculiarity of my position would not suffer me to refuse the offer of his hand, — if, moreover, I were to acknowledge that by the process of forcing myself to fancy I was contemplating j/ou when really surveying I7t josTjrn TviiMOT; on, the memoies of a mak-servant. him, I had succeeded in transferring my affections from yourself to him, — should you not he rejoiced, as my friend and as my brother — for as such you wish me to res^ard you ■" " Eejoiced ?" I echoed bitterly — and it was with a sort of rage that I stamped my foot : for at this moment Calanthe looked so transcendingly beauti- ful, with the glow upon her cheeks— the light beaminti' in her eyes — her glossy raven hair, deeper in its dark hue than even the black mourning bonnet that she wore — and the sable raiment set- ting off the symmetry of her charming shape to the utmost advantage, — that I felt half mad at the thought of her becoming another's. " To be sure," she went on to observe, as if my emotions were totally unperceived by her: "as a friend and as a brother, you will be rejoiced to think that I maj' obtain for myself a better posi- tion than that which I now occupy. Besides, after all that has passed between you and me, it were better that we should separate as soon as possi- ble " " Tou did not seem to think so a mouth back, Calanthe," I interrupted her in the thrilling yet tremulous accents of reproach, — '• when we stood upon this very spot, and our kisses and our tears were mingled !" "You are speaking to me strangely, Joseph," answered Lady Calanthe, with an air of extreme surprise. " What am I to think ? what am I to imagine ?" " Oh ! can you not understand me ?" I ex- claimed,, reckless of what I was saying, and in a mood of desperation. " Do you not see, Calanthe, that I cannot endure the idea of your becoming another's ?" "Joseph," she said, '-do not 7/o!t love another ? did you not tell me so upon this very spot ?" "Yes, yes — it is true But I know not my own mind ! My God ! I am half distracted. Calanthe, answer mo with the fullest candour! Do you indeed love Eichard Franklin ?" — and seizing both of her hands, I held each in a vice- like grasp, while gazing with the anguish of sus- pense into the dark depth of her eyes. " What response would you have me give F" she murmured, trembling visibly. " If I say yes — that I do love him " " Then you will drive me frantic !" I ejaculated vehemently. •■ And if I say no — I do not love him ?" she inquired, in a still more tremulously murmuring voice. " Then I shall be happy ?" " But do you love me, Joseph ?" ••Yes — it must be love! I cannot part with you !" " O joy !" she cried. " I do not love Eichard Franklin ! he is nothing to me ! I love only you —you, as tenderly and fervidly as ever !'" She sank into my arms : I strained her to my breast — our kisses and our tears were again mingled : but this time they were tears of joy which gushed forth from our eyes. Alas, alas ! Annabel was forgotten no, not altogether for- gotten : but her vanishing image grew dim to my mental view, as it seemed to look mournfully upon me from the mist into which it was subsiding, as the guardian angel of a man fades away in deepest melancholy when he commits the crime from which that good genius would fain have saved him. There was for an instant a pang of remorse in my heart : but I clasped Calanthe still closer and closer to my breast— and all my thoughts, all my feelings, aU my senses, were soon absorbed in the ecstatic pleasure of this embrace. '• TeU me, Calanthe," I murmuringly said, as we walked along the lane together, my arm thrown round her waist, — " you have encouraged Eichard Franklin somewhat, in order to make me jealous — was it not so ? Ah ! by that tell-tale blush upon your cheeks, I see that I have not erred in my conjecture !" '•■ Dearest Joseph, hear me," responded the young lady, in the most melting cadences of her rich musical voice. ''I have loved you — and I love you still — with a passion, a fervour, and a de- votion which would not permit me to abandon all hope. I felt assured or at least, I buoyed myself up with the idea, that such a love as mine must ten thousand times outweigh that which any other could possibly experience for you ; and I said to myself that so much love — such a love as no human heart had ever known before — could not possibly fail sooner or later to engender a recipro- cal affection. Ah, Joseph ! I could read your own feelings better than you yourself comprehended them. When we parted here a month back, it was not without a hope that I left you. Those kisses that you bestowed upon me — those tears which you shed upon my cheeks — were the same as pro- phetic whispers breathing in my ear and infusing comfort into my soul. Yes, Joseph — I love you as never woman loved before. I am thine : and I reck not for all the world, now that I can look upon you as mine !" I was profoundly moved by Calanthe's melting language: how was it possible that I could be otherwise ? Man has his own vanity and his own weakness, as well as woman : and was it not a flattering thing for me to contemplate the spec- tacle of this brilliant patrician lady, who by her beauty and her rank might have aspired to the proudest peer's espousal, cheerfiJly and gladly making the most tremendous sacrifices for my sake ? I could not be indifferent to such reflections as these : and, alas ! they were potent enough to stifle the remorse which my soul felt when I thought of the absent Annabel. " Dearest Joseph," continued Calanthe, " you shall not again have occasion to feel angry at the mention of Mr. Franklin's name. Every proof which I can give you of my devoted love shall be afforded !" Again we embraced — and then separated, with the mutual understanding that we were to compose our feelings as well as we could, and that our con- duct at Oval Villa should continue as guarded as it had hitherto been. Calanthe hurried away, \ pausing however for a moment where the lane joined the road, to wave her white kerchief to me; and for the second time did I now linger in that narrow path to reflect ujjon what had occui'red. I was like a man who, regaining his senses after a fit of intoxication, becomes alive to some stupen- dous folly or misdeed which he has committed; and for an instant I could have cried out aloud in the anguish of my heart as I thought of Annabel Annabel, pure, confiding, and affectionate, who at that very moment was perhaps thinking of me. JOSEPH WIIMOT ; OR, THE MEMOIRS OP A MAN-SERVANT. 17S ■while I was guilty of such base and flagrant per- fidy towards her. But I dared not think of her ; I dared not review my past misconduct. Again adopting the simile of the individual who regains the senses which have been rendered mad by in- toxication, I called to my aid a sort of desperate recklessness, — accepting what was done as some- thing that could not be recalled — resolving to surrender myself up to what I conceived my des- tiny, as a man in his despair surrenders his soul to Satan. After lingering in the lane for about twenty minutes, I hurried back to the villa, — putting the image of Annabel as far away from my thoughts as possible, and fixing my reflections on the beauty, the words, and the caresses of Calanthe. For the remainder of that day I felt as if under the influence of a strong liquor which excited and bewildered the brain, without actually intoxicating, much less stupifying it : and my fellow-servants wondered to see me so elate and happy as they fancied I was. In the evening Mr. Franklin called as usual : but Calanthe kept her own chamber on the plea of headache— as I gathered from what I overheard the lady's-maid say to the cook. On the evening of the following day !Mr. Franklin called again ; and this time Calanthe was compelled to make her usual appearance in the drawing-room : but when I went thither for some purpose, I at once saw that she was seated near Mrs. Eobinson on the sofa, while Eichard Franklin, who looked vexed and uneasy, was placed at a distance. On the evening next after that, he called again ; and on this occasion, when I went up to the drawing- room, I heard Calanthe speaking to him in so cold — inde«d glacial a manner, that it ought to have convinced him he was perfectly indifferent to her. On the following day he called at about noon, and was for nearly an hour with Mrs. Robinson alone in the drawing-room. Then Calanthe was sent for from the apartment where she was wont to instruct the children ; and Mrs. Eobinson left her with Mr. Franklia. A quarter of an hour afterwards he quitted the house in a hurried manner. I con- jectured all that had passed ; and in the course of the evening, Calanthe managed to slip a billet into my hand. I sought an immediate opportunity of reading its contents. They were to the effect that Eichard Franklin had obtained an interview with Mrs. Eobinson, to inform her that he was desirous, with her permission, to make an offer of his hand to Calanthe — that the lady had afforded him the opportunity — and that Calanthe, while thanking him for the flattering compliment he thus paid her, begged to decUne the honour. This incident tended to rivet the chains which Calanthe's fasci- nations had flung aroimd me : and more than ever did I strive to subdue and crush the remorse that was in my soul on Annabel's account. CIIAPTER XXXVIl. INFATUATION ASD ITS EEStTlTB. It appeared as if my good genius had altogether deserted me, and that circumstances were destined so to combine themselves as to render me the victim of this infatuation to which I had yielded. For the very next day after Eichard Franklin's proposal and rejection, Mrs. Robinson received a letter from her solicitor in London, — informing her that her presence was required in the metropolis, in connexion with certain affairs of her late hus- band's, which had only just been wound up. She hated trouble : she moreover disliked the idea of travelling in the depth of winter — for it was now verging towards Christmas ; and it was therefore a source of much annoyance to her that she should have to leave her comfortable home in the Isle of Wight. It was however absolutely necessai-y to undertake the journey: but she decided upon leaving the children behind her, having every con- fidence in Miss Palmer's prudence and discretion. The lady's-maid was to accompany her; and ac- cordingly, the day after the receipt of the letter she took her departure. Frequent opportunities were now easily obtained for Calanthe to snatch stolen interviews with me, and without exciting the slightest suspicion on the part of the servants who remained behind, as well as without the least risk. A word I have already used in this chapter, most properly represents the state of my feelings : it was a positive infatuation. With the desperate recklessness of a man who having taken one false step, plunges madly on in the career to which it leads, I abandoned myself to that passion : or, to borrow another similitude from actual life, like the man who having passed the boundary of temperance, recklessly swallows glass after glass, did I yield myself up to the intoxicating influence of Calanthe's charms. We snatched half-hours in the drawing-room at dif- ferent times of the day : the oftener we thus met, the more did we seem to feel the necessity for meeting again, — until at length we sought each other after the period for retiring to rest. But still we behaved with so much caution, that our proceedings were utterly unsuspected. The ab- sence of Mrs. Robinson was prolonged by various circumstances for an entire month. She occasionally wrote to Calanthe, telling her that fresh delays had arisen in the settlement of her affairs ; and that being once in London, she should remain there until they were brought to a complete termi- nation. Thus, for four whole weeks were we enabled to snatch these opportunities of being together. And now I come to the most painful part of this episode in my life : for Calanthe loved with all the glow of a fervid temperament — I was a prey to an inebriating infatuation — and those frequent inter- views did not long continue innocent ! Mrs. Robinson returned, having satisfactorily settled her affairs. We were once more compelled to be on our guard, and to relapse almost com- pletely into that mode of life which we had adopted previous to her journey. The exchange of glances — occasionally of billets — was the extent of the risks we ran ; and now it was that I began to awaken from the dream of impassioned infatuation in which I had been plunged. Day by day, and hour by hour, did my feeling in favour of Calanthe wear off, while that which I experienced towards Annabel regained strength. By night I wept bit- terest tears, when I reflected on what I had done : I implored heaven to forgive me— I invoked the image of Aimabel to smile forgiveness also I My contrition was most sincere : never did anchorite lacerate his body with more torturing stripes, than ._/ 17G JOSHPTT WILMOT ; OR, THE MEtfOTR3 OF A MiN-SERVAlJT. I scourged my soul with, keenest self-upbraidings. By this very prosess I grew calmer in my miud : I became comforted : I felt that I was making as much atonement as possible for the error into which I had been beguiled, and the perfidy of which I had been guilty towards Annabel. I contrasted the character of Calanthe with that of the sweet creature to whose image I once again turned as to that of my guardian-angel : and the result was trnncsendently in favour of the latter. I wondered how I could have fallen — wondered how I had ever succumbed to the spells which had been wrought upon me. But by degrees I began to comprehend that I had really never ceased to love Annabel, even while basking in the sunshine of Calanthe's bright eyes and receiving her caresses. I learnt to dis- tinguish the immensity of that diflference which exists between a passion and a sentiment, — the former arising from the grossness and frailty of our mortal natures — the latter being comprised of the sublimest essences of thought and feeling which were permitted to remain in the breast of man after his expulsion from the G-arden of Eden. I now saw how it was that, while being devoted to Annabel, I had nevertheless been jealous of Ca- lanthe, and had succumbed to the inlluence of that mad love which she experienced for me. I saw that a passion may be excited for even the un- worthiest object : though, heaven knows, I do not mean this phrase to apply to Calanthe — for she pos- sessed many admirable traits, much noble gene- rosity of disposition: but love with her became a ruling idea — an infatuation — a frenzy. What I meant to express, was that a passion may be in- spired by any female possessed of brilliant or win- ning charms which constitute the influencing power : but a sentiment can only be inspired by the purest and chastest of women — such an one as Annabel ! Although this great change was taking place within me, and the madness of passion was yield- ing to the better feelings of repentance, — though my heart, having passed through such an ordeal, was now cleansing itself of all the impurities which had adhered to it in its progress, — I did not immediately give Calanthe any reason to per- ceive that I was altered towards her. I should have considered it a downright baseness, and an act of brutal cowardice to inflict wanton injury upon one whoso only fault was loving me too tenderly and too well. Thus, though I exchanged glances with her as heretofore, whenever wo met and were unobserved, — yet did I begin seriously to deliberate how I should free myself from the sphere of her influence — how, in short, I could bring about a separation. My mind, after re- volving many plans, settled upon one which seemed the most eligible for adoption : I determined upon doing something to get myself discharged from my present situation, — trusting to the policy to be thereafter carried out, to prevent Ciilanthe from following to whatsoever spot circumstances might lead me. But still I did not choose to do anything which should be actually damaging to my cha- racter; and it was rather difficult to provoke Mrs. Kobinson's resentment by a trivial fault : for she was too languid in her nature to arouse herself to anger very easily. Indeed, she detested trouble so much as to pass over many a little in- cident on the part of the servants which the generality of masters and mistresses would have made the groundwork for a loud disturbance and wrathful scolding. I was therefore much per- plexed how to carry out my scheme, — when a cir- cumistance took place which relieved me from my embarrassment, and efifezted in a summary manner that separation which I was now so anxious to bring about. One day Calanthe went into the town in order to make some purchases — for she did all Mrs. Robinson's shopping : but she did not return so soon as on such occasions she was wont. Hour after hour went by, — till at length Mrs. Robinson rang the drawing-room bell to inquire if Miss Palmer had come back P A response was given in the negative : and she grew somewhat uneasy. It was about eleven o'clock in the forenoon when Calanthe had set out: it was now four in the afternoon — and she had not returned. Presently there was a ring at the front-door : and a person, having the appearance of an hotel-waiter, said to me in a low hurried manner, " Are you Joseph Wilmot?" " I am," was my response : and I was smitten with a sudden fear that there was something wrong. " You must come up to the Hotel as soon as you can," said the man, in the same hurried manner as before: then, having thrust a little billet into my hand, he hastened away. My first impulse was to speed after him, and put some questions : but I instantaneously re- flected that the note which I held in my hand would probably give me all requisite explanations; and I at once sought an opportunity of readiag it. The contents ran as follow : — v " Dearest Joseph, " My father and one of my brothers have me in their power. They have compelled mo to confess all — except that which I dared not confess ! — and I conjure you to save my honour. But I know you will ! Tou are inca- pable of yielding to tbreats and intimidation, to make an avowal that would ruin me for ever. It is only by pretending a sudden indisposition and retiring to a chamber, that I am enabled to pen these few rapid lines, — which a kind-hearted maid has promised to give to the waiter who is about to be sent ofi' to fetch you. Mrs. Robinson is to knovr nothing ! " Your afflicted, but ever loving, « CALANTHE." The style of penmanship but too well convinced me how great was the dreadful excitement endured by the unfortunate young lady. I myself was at first almost overwhelmed by the occurrence : but I speedily reflected that it might aU be for the best — that the separation I had been studying to bring about, would now be cfiected — and that Calanthe would in all probability be restored to her home. As for confessing that which would indeed proclaim her frailty, I was incapable of doing so : I was even prepared to tell any falsehood, and with a most brazen effrontery too, rather than ruinously compromise one whose only fault was that she had loved me too tenderly and made such sacrifices on my account. I was just thinking of leaving the house on some excuse, — when the drawing-room bell again rang ; and I hastened to obey the summons. "Joseph," said Mrs. Robinson, "I am getting very uneasy indeed about Miss Palmer. It is now close upon half-past four o'clock ; and she has been JOSEPH WILMOT; OE, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. 1V7 absent ffver since eleven. Some accident must have befallen her. So steady and well behaved a young lady Yes, it must be an accident ! it can be nothing else! Hasten into Eyde; and make inquiries. Stay ! — I will tell you the shops at which she had to call." Mrs. Eobinson enumerated three or four ; and I lost no time in taking my departure. I hurried along at a very quick pace — but stUl not so fast as to enable me to outstrip my somewhat disagreeable thoughts : for though in one sense I was not sorry — for the reasons already set forth — that matters had come to this crisis, yet it was no very pleasant thing to contemplate the prospect of encountering a father and brother who were certain to consider themselves terribly outraged through me. Never- theless, I summoned all ray courage to my aid ; and my mind was fully made up -to shield Ca- lanthe's honour in the point where it was so vitally concerned. The half-mile from the house to the 23 town was accomplislied in a few minutes ; ani a few minutes more brought me to the hotel. The instant^I entered, I encountered that very same waiter who had been sent with the message to Oval Villa; and he at once bade me follow him. My heart palpitated violently as I ascended the stairs : a door was thrown open — and I entered a room, around which I threw a glance of light- ning swiftness to see if Calanthe were there. I certainly did not expect to bshold her : nor was she present. The door closed behind me ; and at that instant I felt for her sake, nerved with a degree of fortitude which even surprised myself. Before me were her father and brother. Lord Mandeville, though far advanced in years, had a tall, stout, and erect form : his countenance, though florid, was care-worn — its expression naturally proud and haughty. His son was about two years older than Calanthe, and very much like his sister— with dark hair and 178 JOSEm WILIIOT; OK, THE :JElI0rE3 OF A MAN-SEETAJTT. eyes — a classic profile — slender and symmetri- cal shape. The father seemed more afflicted than stern — the son more sternly severe than afflicted. No doubt he felt much: but it was evident that a feeling of pride as well as of the liveliest indignation, prevented him from betray- ing his sorrow more than he could help. They both siirveyed me with an earnest attention the instant I made my appearance ; and I could not help thinking at the moment of the similitude of this scene to that which had taken place some time back at Cheltenham. There was however this grand and material difference — that in the mansion of the unknown noblemen at Cheltenham, I was innocently accused; whereas here I was but too guilty ! '• And you arh Joseph Wiknot !" said Calanthe's brother, he being the first to break silence : and he averted his looks with an expression of illimitable scorn, as much as to imply how boundless was his wonder that his sister could have bestowed her affections on a youth in a menial garb. " You do not know who we are, young man ?" said the old nobleman : " because we are passing under feigned names here — and therefore the waiter who fetched you, could have told you nothing." '• True ! The waiter has told me nothing," I said, •• beyond that I was wanted here :"— for if I had admitted my knowledge of those in whose presence I stood, it might have led to the discovery that Calanthe had sent that secretly written billet. '■' But does your conscience suggest nothing ?" inquired the old nobleman, his voice quivering with emotions : then suddenly regaining Lis firm- ness, he added with an access of hauteui-, '• I am the Earl of Mandeville ; and this is one of mv sons — Lord Hubert Dundas." I bowed as if in beconiini^ aClmbwledgment of these introductions ; and though there was now another interval of silence for a few moments— during which both the noblemen again surveyed me with an earnest scrutiny — I did not lose my presence of mind, nor fall into confusion. I felt how neces- sary it was to preserve my self-possession, iu order to pass through the coming ordeal without the risk of betraying Lady Calanthe. '■ If ow that you know who we are — if you did not really suspect it before," said Lord Hubert, breaking silence in his turn, '-'you can probably guess why you have been sent for. By heaven, sirrah ! it would take but little to make me wreak such a vengeance upon you that you should carry the marks thereof to your grave." * " My lord," I answered, feeling that this was the best opportunity to say something which should at once ease their minds on a particular point, — and I must confess that I spoke and looked with so matchless an effrontery that I afterwards thought of it in amazement, — " I am unable to reproach myself with anything which should deserve such an outrageous menace on your part." " If this be really true," said the old nobleman, quivering with nervous excitement, " we could for- give you much of all that has passed !" " My lord, it is true !" I rejoined in the same firmness of tone as before, and my looks not quail- ing beneath his own. " Come hither, Joseph Wilmot — draw near me," said the Earl of Mandeville. " There !" he added, as he placed me so that the light of the candles j should fall fuU upon my countenance : " now re- peat what you have said— that you have spokeu the truth, and that my infatuated daughter can look her parent in the face without blushing !" " If, my lord, Lady Calanthe Dundas has already done so," I answered firmly and resolutely, " it is that innocence sustained her. Now hear me, my lord I" I went on to exclaim more rapidly, for I feared to be any longer subjected to the ordeal to which my countenance was put beneath the keen searching looks fixed upon me by both father and son. "That I have been the object of your daughter's love, I do not attempt to deny : that we — perhaps iu a strange infatuation — looked forward to a time when our hands might be joined in mar- riage " "Marriage with such as you!" ejaculated Lord Hubert scornfully. "Silence!" said the Earl of Mandeville: "the youth speaks fairly enough. "We have sent for him, and he has a right to be heard. But teU me, Joseph WUmot — do you really, in your serious moments, expect that such a wild idea can ever be realized ?" " No, my lord ! — frankly speaking, I do not," was my response, " after the incidents which have now occirrred." The Earl of Mandeville's countenance brightened up visibly, and he said, "' You appear to be a yoimg man of intelligence. Your own good sense is there- fore sufficient to make you aware of the terrible impropriety of which my daughter has been guilty. I believe you God knows I believe you, when you assure me that her honour is untarnished ! Good heavens, it were impossible to imagine the contrary ! No, no — I believe you ! But see what she has done. Her home has been abandoned : — for weeks and weeks her family has been plimged into the most dreadful apprehensions on her ac- count ; and it was only because our suspicions were directed by antecedent circumstances into the right channel, that we were enabled to obtain a clue which has at last brought us to the place where she lived concealed under another name. Indeed it was only yesterday we ascertained that on quit- ting her home, she took a lodging in some street in Camden Town, — where she received letters bearing the Eyde post-mark. Her brother and myself hastened hither — we met her in the street " "' Wtat is the use, father, of giving the lad aU these details ?" ejaculated Lord Hubert impatiently. "I have my motives," responded the Earl, gently but firmly. "' In a word, young man, nothing as yet is known prejudicial to my daugh- ter's character. The world believes that she is again on a visit to her sister in Devonshire : the few to whom the mystery of her disappearance is really known, will not make it the subject of scan- dal. Now then, I appeal to you — I implore you as the father of that infatuated girl — I ask you as one who will forgive you aU the past — to lend your aid in saving her from a fatal exposure !" " Cheerfully, my lord, shall that aid be given !" I exclaimed ; "' and as you speak to me in these terms, I should be a wretch and a vUlain not to second your views to the best of my power." "The young man has his* proper feelings, Hubert," said the Earl of Mandeville, fliagiog a look upon his son : then again addressing himself to me, he went on to observe, "You can do JOSEPH WIIMOT ; OB, THE MEITOTES O? A MAN-SEKVAJfT. 179 much !— indeed you can do everytliing T Silence is all that is required of you. No, not all : there are other favours — for I will call them favours — which I ask at your hands. But in the first place, a solemn — a sacred — and an inviolable si- lence with regard to the past ! I do not think you can be an empty boaster " " Heaven forbid, my lord !" I ejaculated ; " and the best proof is, that not a soxil at Oval Villa has ever heard me drop a single syllable calculated to betray aught prejudicial to Lady Calanthe." " Your words are stamped with truth," said the Earl of Mandeville, his countenance still farther brightening up with this new relief afforded to his mind. " The secret, therefore, that in Miss Matilda Palmer a peer's daughter was disguised, is totally unsuspected at Oval Villa. Let it remain so : and this is the first favour I solicit at your hands. My daughter will presently write a note to Mrs. Eobinson " " I should observe, my lord, that Mrs. Robinson sent me up into the town to make inquiries con- cerning Lady Calanthe's absence ; and thus was I enabled so speedily to answer the summons brought me by the waiter." " Then you must return, Joseph Wilmot," con- tinued the Earl, " and give the assurance that your inquiries have been vain. My daughter will, as I ere now said, write a note couched in a cer- tain strain, to Mrs. Robinson, accoimtihg for this sudden and abrupt withdrawal from her service. The contents of that note vrill doubtless reach your ears; and you wUl not utter a single word to disprove them. May I calculate on your good faith thus far P" " Tou may, my lord," I answered confidently : for now I was indeed speaking the truth, and had no need to call up to my aid an effrontery and a dissimulation, which in my heart I abhorred. '■■ The next favour which I have to ask at your hands," continued the Earl, " is that you will never again make any attempt to see my daughter." " I call Grod to witness the sincerity with which I give your lordship this most solemn and sacred pledge ! May evils ten thousand times worse than Egyptian plagues, fall upon me," I exclaimed, "if I break this oath !" " Enough!" said the Earl, now addressing me with even an air of kindness, " you are making as much reparation as lies in your power:" — and I felt convinced at the moment that his eyes were so far opened to the real truth of past transactions, that he began to suspect his daughter had run after me much more than I had after her. " But now, Joseph," he went on to say, " I have a last favour — the greatest of all perhaps — to solicit at your hands. It is that you will, as soon as convenient, quit the service of Mrs. Robinson and seek em- ployment elsewhere. I do not attempt to disguise my object. There is frankness on your side : there shall be equal candour on mine. In a word, I seek to guard against any future display of my daughter's infatuation : I am desirous to break off all correspondence between you — that you shall become, as it wfere, lost to her ; and in process of time the affection with which you have inspired her, may calm down. I know that I am asking 1 much, when I request you to leave a situation in which perhaps you are happy, and where you pro- I bably have a kind mistress. But I have the means ui providing you with another. It is far — very far away : but I can guarantee that you shall be comfortable there — and ybu must permit me not merely to bear all the expenses of your removal, but likewise to bestow upon you a proof of my gratitude." Here Lord Hubert started, as if he thought his father was making use of terms far too humble and condescending for a menial in a page's livery. " Yes — I use the word gratitude," continued the Earl emphatically : " and depend upon it, Joseph, that I sliall feel grateful if you grant me all I have solicited at your hands." " I will do so, my lord," was my response. " But I beg most positively though respectfully to decliue the acceptance of anything which might be accounted as a bribe :" — and as I thus spoke I flung a proud look upon Lord Hubert, to make him aware that though I wore a menial's garb, yet that I was as susceptible of proper and elevated feelings as he himself. "Well, Joseph," continued the Earl, "I shall say nothing more on this point. ' The kind treat- ment you are certain to experience at the new place to which I shall recommend you, will prove that I am not unmindful of your interests. In a few days you shall receive a letter from mo con- taining farther particulars : but once more you faithfully pledge yourself to fulfil aU I have asked ?" " I faithfully pledge myself, my lord," was my readily given reply. " We have now no more to say," resumed the Earl of Mandeville. " Go back to Mrs. Robinson ; and I must beg of you so far to descend to an untruth — which will bo venial under the circum- stances — as to assure her that your inquiries for Miss Palmer have been vain. She will not bo kept long in suspense : a messenger with the note to which I have already alluded, will be speedily on your track. And now farewell." I bowed and quitted the room, well pleased at having passed through the dreaded ordeal in a man- ner so little disagreeable to my feelings, and having been compelled to outrage truth as little as might be under the circumstances. I issued forth from the hotel, and hastened homeward. I was even in good spirits : I had heard enough to convince me that Calanthe would be restored to the bosom of her family, and that precautions had been taken from the very outset to prevent her reputation from being seriously compromised by her disap- pearance from home. On my own account, I was rejoiced that the separation I had been longing to bring about was at length effected : and fervently — Oh ! how fervently, did I vow that never again would I be seduced away from my allegiance to the charming and dearly beloved Annabel. On reaching Oval Villa, I at once informed Mrs. Robinson that I could learn no tidings of Miss Palmer ; and my mistress was ~ery much concerned on that young lady's accou <•. The domestics too were equally alarmed and surprised ; and ail sorts of speculations naturally arose to ac- count for her absence — but not one at all detrimental to the high opinion they entertained of the gover- ness's moral rectitude. The inmates of t'ue villa were not kept very long in suspense : for a note pre- sently arrived, addressed to Mrs. Robinson. I at once recognised Calanthe's writing, though it still ISO JOSEPH WII.MOT; OK, THE MEirOTES OF A MAN-SKKVAXT. exhibited the nervous trepidation of excited feel- ings in which it was penned ; and I took it up to my mistress. Its contents, as I presently learnt from the lady's-maid, -were to the following effect : — that shortly after the death of her aunt (a tale that was of course still adhered to, as it could not now be denied, on account of the mourning garb) !Mis3 Matilda Palmer had unfor- tunately quarrelled with her relations, but through no fault of her own — that considering herself ill- used by them, she had resolved to earn her own liTelihood — and thence her answer to ^Irs. Eobin- son's advertisement. The letter farther went on to explain how Miss Matilda Palmer's relations had at length found out where she was — how they had come over to Eyde to seek her — how they had fallen in with her while she was in the midst of her shopping — how they had acknowledged all their former iU-treatment and unkindness — how they insisted that she should return with them at once to the comfortable home which they would hence- forth afford her — and how they would not consent to part with her again for fear she might, through a lingering resentment, refuse to return to their guardianship. In tliis way, and by this venial tissue of falsehoods — through which however there was a certain under-current of truth in some re- spects — did Lady Calanthe, writing as Miss Matilda Palmer, excuse herself to Mrs. Eobinson for leaving her so abruptly, and for not even going back to Oval Villa to bid her farewell. She however thanked Mrs. Eobinson for all the kind- ness experienced at her hands — and besought her not to think iU of her, nor deem her ungrateful for quitting her in so precipitate a manner. As for her clothes, and whatsoever money there might be in her box, she desired that these should be divided amongst the female servants; and she wound up this somewhat lengthy letter with the most sincerely expressed wishes for Mrs. Eobin- son's health and happiness. I have before said that !Mrs. Eobinson was a good, easy, credulous kind of person, who Uked trouble as little as possible, and seldom gave way to anger, on account of the effort which it costs. She thus readily believed every word contained in the letter : she was entirely disarmed, by its tone and expression, of any rancour or feeling of an- noyance : indeed she expressed her deep regret that circumstances had not favoured her with an opportumty of bidding Miss Palmer good bye. 2vo one in the house suspected there was anything wrong in connexion with the matter. It was known to the servants that Miss Palmer had re- fused Eichard Prankliu's offer of marriage ; and therefore a yoimg lady who had declined so eligi- ble a match merely on the conscientious ground that her heart could not be bestowed along with her hand, was above any suspicion of imprudence in respect to this sudden withdrawal from Oval TiUa. In a siKrt time another advIr. Vennachar has been communicated with upon this subject ; and from the recommendations he has received, will be well pleased to take Joseph Wilmot into his service at thirty guineas a year : Mr. Vennachar has moreover through the writer of this, re- mitted the sum of twenty pounds to defray Joseph 'Wil- mot's travelling expenses. Mr. Vennachar will therefore be expecting Joseph Wilmot in about three weekj from this date." The letter, which bore the EnSeld post-mark, contained an order from a Perth banker on a Lon- don one, for the sum specified in the communica- tion itself. I had a very great mind to return the money-order to Mr. Vennachar, with a respectful letter to the effect that it was usual for a servant to pay his own travelling expenses when going to a new place : for I felt well assured that the Earl of Mandeville himself had caused the amount to be sent me ; and I felt extremely repugnant to take anything which might savour of a bribe from this nobleman. But when I reflected that such a proceeding would be calculated to give Mr. Ven- nachar an unfavourable opinion of my character, and make him think I was of too proud and in- dependent a spirit to be adapted for a servant, — when, too, I bethought me that the expenses of so long a journey would be very groat, — I determined upon making use of the remittance. I was suf- ficiently well pleased with the prospect of visiting Scotland, — of which country I had read a g^eat deal ; and my curiosity in respect to the wild scenery of the Highlands was excited. But there was one feature in the plan laid out for me to pur- sue, which I did not so much relish. This was the necessity of having to revisit London, — not merely for the purpose of passing through it on my way to Scotland, but to obtain the money from the banker's. If there were a chance of seeing An- nabel, I felt that I could cheerfully run every risk : this pleastirc was however scarcely to be hoped for ; and I did not dare communicate with her — • much less call at the house in Great Eussell Street. But there was the danger of falling in with Lan- over ; and I confess that I still stood in consider- able dread of that man. It is true that I was now nearly eighteen years of age — that with the growth of my form my mind had likewise expanded — that I had already received a tolerable amount of ex- perience in the ways of the world — and that I was not therefore quite so much in dread of Mr. Lanover as some time back I had been. But still I did fear him sufficiently to render me particu- larly cautious how I threw myself in his way. I was no coward ; and if he had been an open foe, I would have boldly met him face to face. But he was a dark designing one — capable of executing his purposes either by insidious treachery or else by a bravo-like iniquity ; and therefore I shunned him in the same way that I should have avoided the nest of a reptile or the lair of a wild beast. Besides, I was so peculiarly situated with respect josErn wmtoT: ok, the jreMOins of a :.rAX-KT;nrAyT. 181 to tUis uiivu tliat I felt the necessity of keeping entirely to myself tbe danger under which I lay at his hands. I could not appeal to tbe law against him, because he was .Innabel's father ; and though he should iullict upon me a mortal wound, I must even in my very death-agonies forbear from re- vealing the name of my assassin, because not for worlds would I stamp Annabel herself with igno- miny by sending her father to the scaffold ! Thus was I situated in respect to ATr. Lanover, — no longer fearing him sis the terrible og^e-like being he first appeared to be — but regarding him as a most dangerous enemy, who for some darkly mysterious and unaccountable object had vowed to take my life. Prudence therefore prompted me to avoid an encounter with such a man, if possible : and hence was it that I was little pleased at the prospect of passing some hours in London. How- ever, I felt ashamed of myself on account of these fears : I already considered myself a man (as indeed I was in stature, having grown tall, though still remaining of slender figure) ; and I thought that it was unworthy of me to harbour such ap- prehensions. Therefore I resolved to follow out the exact itinerary described in the Earl of Man- dcville's letter. CHAPTEE XXXVIII. a:t escocxter with old acquaintances. It was in the beginning of March that I took leave of my mistress and fellow-servants at Oval Villa, to set out upon my travels. I crossed iii the steam-boat from Eyde to Portsmouth, and took the afternoon coach to London, — arriving in Grace- church Street at a late hour in the evening. I slept at the Cross £^ei/s, where the coach stopped ; and after breakfast on the following morning, pro- ceeded to Lombard Street, in the immediate neigh- bourhood, to obta n the money for my cheque. This business being finished, I returned to the Cross Keys to make inquiries relative to the coaches on the northern roads ; and I was informed that I had better proceed to the Bull a>id Mouth in Aldersgate Street, where I could obtain more accurate intelligence and likewse book my place according to the hour and circumstances which would best suit me. Thither I accordingly bent my way ; and having to pass the Greneral Post Office, which I had never seen before, I stopped to con- template the building. At that very instant a gentleman and lady, arm-in-arm, were descending the steps : they were advancing slowly, — the for- mer reading aloud a letter which they had doubt- less just received, and the latter listening to its contents. The instant I caught a glimpse of those countenances, I recognised them : the gentleman was the Rev. Henry Howard of Charlton — the ladv was Edith Delmar. "With an ejaculation of joy at thus beholding her whom I had ever remembered with so much grati- rude, I hastened forward to pay my respects. Mr. Howard evidently did not recollect me at all ; and Edith gazed upon me for some seconds as if she were by no means certain that I was the indivi- dual whom nevertheless she fancied me to hi. It was upwards of two years and a half since she had seen me ; and in the meantime I had sprung up from the* mere lad of a little past fifteen to the young man of nearly eighteen. It is true that since I left Delmar Manor I had seen her at Charl- ton Church in Devonshire : but she had not ob- served me on that occasion ; and thus was I suffi- ciently altered to prevent her from being alto- gether certain that in him who now stood before her she beheld her deceased father's page. " Surely you must be Joseph Wilmot ?" she said, at length breaking sUence. " I am. Miss Delmar," was my response ; " and I hope you wiU pardon the liberty I took in ac- costing you : but I could not help availing myself of the opportunity to express the gratitude which I ever experience for the kindness of past times." " It is not Miss Delmar whom you are address- ing," said the clergyman, with a glance of proud admiration at his beautiful companion : " it is Mrs. Howard," I bowed in congratulatory acknowledgment of this notification ; while a soft blush came up to Edith's lovely countenance ; — and after a few mo- ments' pause she observed, " It is very good of you, Joseph, to remember whatsoever little kindness you received at the Manor :" — and then she stopped short, while tears came into her eyes ; for this al- lusion to that particular time had evidently con- jured up with vivid force the image of her mur- dered sire. " May I ask," I said, '•' after Mr. and Mrs. Mulgrave ?" " We have not seen them latterly," responded the Rev. Mr. Howard — while a shade came over his countenance ; and as I instinctively glanced towards Edith, I perceived that tbe sadness which had ere now overspread her own features, suddenly deepened. There was a pause ; and I felt somewhat awk- ward, — perceiving that, though unwUlingly, I had touched upon delicate ground. I now observed both Mr. and Mrs. Howard more attentively than at first. They were neither any longer dressed in black, — the period for wearing mourning garments having expired several months back : and though they were apparelled with gentUity and neatness, yet there was a certain visible economy in their costume — an indescribable something which seemed to indicate that their circumstances were merely competent, if not actually limited — but certainly very far from being afiluent. Nevertheless, Mr. Howard, handsome and well-mannered as he was, looked unmistakably the gentleman j and what Edith had lost in respect to elegance of apparel since I had first seen her at Delmar Manor, she had gained, if possible, in the beauty of her person. She was now verging towards twenty-one, and was expanding into a splendid womanhood. Not that she had lost any of the exquisite symmetry nor Uthe elasticity of her shape : her well-modelled proportions had merely developed themselves into richer contours. She had the same loveliness of complexion: but the buoyant spirit of artless eighteen was not now dancing in the sunny blue eyes ; — there was a certain settled pensiveness in her look — a serene resignation, which to an ordi- nary observer would have appeared the sedate dig- nity belonging to the marriage state — but which I too well knew had a deeper cause : namely, the eficct which the fearful tragedy at Delmar Manor 132 J03EPH WII-MOT; OR, THE HIEMOTHS OP A MATT- SERVANT. had left iipoa her mind. Nevertheless, she was most interestingly beautiful ; and Henry Howard might well bo proud of his charming wife,— as indeed she also might be of her handsome hus- band. " I need not ask, Joseph," said Edith, at length breaking that pause which was awkward and dis- agreeable for all three of us, after my evidently infelicitous allusion to her sister Clara and Mr. Mulgrave, — " I need not ask whether you your- self are prospering :" — for I was w€ll dressed — of course in plain clothes, being at the time out of service ; or more correctly speaking, not having as yet entered on my new situation. "I thank you, madam," was my answer; "I have little reason to complain of any struggles with the world. I eat the bread of mine own industry." "And are you stUl, Joseph, living with your uncle ?" she inquired. " What ? Mr. Lanover ! that dreadful man !" I ejaculated. " No — heaven forbid ! I remained but a few weeks with him — — " "He did not, then, fulfil his promises," said Edith, "and give you a comfortable home ?" " Oh, madam, if you knew all!" I involuntarily cried. " But no !" — I instantaneously added, re- collecting that for Annabel's sake there must be a seal upon my lips : then in the liurry and con- fusion of my thoughts, and with a hasty desire to change the discourse, I was awkward and incau- tious enough to return to that very topic which constituted such delicate ground to tread upon; and I said, " I presume you are on a visit to the Manor? — for I know, sir," I added, "that your home is properly at Charlton in Devonshire." " It is," answered Mr. Howard gravely : " but we are not on a visit to Dolmar Manor, as you suppose." " I once, sir, had the pleasure of hearing you preach at Charltcm," I observed. " It was a con- siderable time back — and I was then in the ser- vice of Lord Eavenshill." "Indeed, Joseph!" ejaculated Mrs. Howard. " You were in the service of that nobleman who was ruined ?" " Yes, madam. And on the particular Sunday to which I allude, I saw you at the church : but when the service was over, I was delicate in ap- proaching you. I called some time afterwards to pay my respects, and express that sense of grati- tude of which I have just now given you the assurance : but you had left the parsonage. I was profoundly grieved to hear that you had been ill and suffering. I am rejoiced now to see that your health is restored." " It is very good and grateful of you," said Mr. Howard, — who during this conversation had fully recollected who I was, — "to express yourself in such terms :" — then he added solemnly, " We all have our trials in this world, Joseph Wilmot ; and it is our duty to bear them with resignation. You manifest a genuine and respectful interest in Mrs. Howard ; and I cannot refrain from observing in her presence that she has borne up against the manifold calamities which have overtaken her, with a becoming fortitude." " Oh, dear Henry !" murmured Mrs. Howard, with tears starting into her eyes — and it ^vas evi- dent that she could not at the instant control this little outbur.st of emotion : " it is not the loss of fortune which I deplore at pi-esent : it is the un- kindness of t'-vose who " " Loss of fortune, madam !" I exclaimed, struck with these words. "Pardon me — deem me not impertinent ! Humble an individual though I am, I experience, from a sense of gratitude, a deep interest in all that concerns you ;^and until this moment I had hoped, — nay, I had felt confident — that you were possessed of riches. For I knew that your deceased father — my ever lamented be- nefactor — had amply provided for you, his well- beloved daughter !" Both Mr. and Mrs. Howard gazed upon me with so singular an expression of countenance, that I did not at the first moment perceive it was in sheer wonderment : I feared lest I had spoken too familiarly, and that in the unguarded excitement of my feelings, I had overstepped the line which separated me in my humble sphere from their more elevated social position. But I was pre- sently undeceived as to this apprehension : for Mr. Howard exclaimed, " 'Vr liat mean you, Joseph ? You knew that the late Mr. Delmar had made particular dispositions in respect to his property ? How could you know that ?" " If I have said anything improper," I began, timidly and hesitatingly, " I am truly sorry — — " " No, Joseph — nothing improper," Mrs. Howard hastened to interject. " We both appreciate your good feeling " " Yes," immediately added her husband : "pray understand us in that light ! But you have just given utterance to words which have naturally amazed us. Whence was your authority derived for that statement ?" " I will answer with frankness," I at once said. "It chanced that I overheard But do not think I was an intentional listener No, it was far otherwise — —I was engaged in the museum ; and the discourse which thus reached my ears, took place in the library adjoining." " Between whom P" asked Mr. Howard hur- riedly. " Between my lamented benefactor and Mr. Mulgrave," was my response. " And the nature of that conversation, Joseph ?" continued the clergyman inquiringly. " I do not recollect it all now, sir," I rejoined : "but I distinctly remember that Mr. Delmar in- formed Mr. Mulgrave — and he spoke emphatically and positively — -that according to a solemn pledge which he had given to his deceased lady, when she was on her death-bed, he had made a will equally dividing all his property between Mrs. Mulgrave and yourself, madam:" — and I addressed these last words to Edith, down whose cheeks the tears were again trickling, as the tenour of the discourse continued to rivet her attention upon that mourn- ful and terrible time which deprived her of her father. " Do you know, Joseph Wilmot," said Mr. Howard, looking exceedingly serious, " that you have accidentally been led to mention something which, if not actually important, is at least very remarkable ? But good heavens, Edith — dearest Edith ! are you ill ?" The young lady indeed appeared as if she were seized vnth a sudden indisposition : a deadly pallor had come over her — she seemed as if she were JOSEPH WILMOT ; OB, THE MEMOIES OF A MAN-SERVANT. 183 about to faint ; and Mr. Howard hastily called to a cab-driver who was passing at the moment with his vehicle. " I am better now, dearest Hem-y," murmured Edith ia tremulous tones : " but so many sad and frightful recollections have been conjured up " '' Yes, dearest — it is natural that you should be thus affected," exclaimed her husband : and he sus- tained her to the cab which had just drawn up at the edge of the pavement. " Good bye, Joseph," he said, addressing me in a kind voice : " we both of us wish you well. You possess a good and grateful heart ; and you will prosper." Edith likewise bade me "goodbye" in a friendly maimer : the cab drove away — and I stood watch- ing it imtU it was lost amidst the crowd of vehicles in the neighbourhood of St. Paul's Churchyard. Heaving a profound sigh as I thought of the hor- rible death of my deceased benefactor, and as I reflected that it had left upon Edith's mind an impression which would evidently never wear off altogether, though with the lapse- of time it might be tempered down, — I turned to pursue my walk towards the Bull and Mouth : when I started and staggered back as if I had suddenly beholden a wild beast or a monstrous reptile about to spring at me — for there, only three yards distant, stood the horrible humpback, Mr. Lanover ! His appearance was exactly the same as when I had beheld him last : his harsh iron-gray hair did not seem to have tended another shade towards whiteness : his shaggy brows overhung those eyes which had an expression partly of the weasel and partly of the snake. He was apparelled in com- plete black— his usual style : but his hat was circled with crape — no doubt in moui'ning for Violet. His shoes had the strings tied in large bows : his immense hands looked larger still with the loose black kid gloves that he wore. At the moment when my eyes fell upon him, his looks were fixed upon me vidth that cold searching gaze which was so penetrating and at the same time had the hideous fascination of the reptile. Thus some moments elapsed, during which he contiaued to survey me — while I was riveted to the spot under the influence of even a far greater amount of terror than I had previously anticipated I should experience, when ere my visit to London I cal- culated the chances of falling in with Mr. Lan- over. " AVell, Joseph," he said, his looks and manner all of a moment softening down as much as it was possible for them to undergo such an alteration, — " so you arc in London again ? Come — shake hands. You know I am your uncle ; and though you have been a very disobedient nephew to me, I am in- clined to forget the past." It was upon the tip of my tongue to ejaculate that J could not possibly forget it — when it sud- denly struck me that if I betrayed my knowledge of his murderous intentions at the time I fled from Ms house, it would be making him aware that Annabel must have listened to what was then going on and had' commimicated them to me. Therefore I at once checked — or rather withheld the retort I was about to make ; and mechanically I gave him my hand. He shook it with what to any stranger who observed us, would have seemed a degree of friendly warmth : but the mere con- tact of that hand, gloved though it were — and gloved as mine also was — sent a cold shudder quivering tlu-ough my entire frame. I almost fancied that he meant to keep his hold upon me, and that he would drag me off: but as I swept my looks ai'ound, and beheld the throngs of passengers passing in every direction — when I felt, too, that this scene occurred in the broad daylight, and that a single ejaculation from my lips would bring num- bers to my succour — I suddenly regained my for- titude, and was ashamed that a young man of my age should even for a moment have yielded to so mortal a terror in respect to that individual. Nevertheless, it was not astonishing — considering all I knew of him — his diabolical capacity for mis- chief — his heartless unscrupulous disposition — his truly fiend-Uke character, — added to the loathsome repulsiveness of his person, — that I should have been thus horrified by the sudden apparition of the hideous humpback before my eyes. " You have grown a fine tall lad, Joseph," he went on to. observe: "you are a very handsome youth too, on my honour ! — the handsomest youth that ever I saw in my life ! I hope you cherish no iU feeling towards me ? If the past must be alluded to, recollect that you gave me very serious provocation — you struck me, you know — on that day when I confined you to your chamber. But tell me what made you run away ?" — and now his eyes were again fixed upon me with a scrutiny so penetrating that it seemed as if the reptile-light which hung in their depths had become sharp as needles. " I considered myself Ul-treated," was my an- swer, now given with a certain degree of bold- ness ; '■' and it was natural I should escape from a dwelling where I had to endure so much." " Endm-e so much, Joseph !" responded Llr. Lanover with a remarkable mildness of voice and a sudden softening of his looks : " you are wrong to speak in this manner. You know very well that up to that particular day you were treated by me with the utmost kindness. But however, we will not refer to the past :" — and methought that he looked relieved, as if he had acquired the certainty that I knew much less of his murderous designs on that eventful night than he had hitherto imagined. " Let us walk along the street a little, and converse together. I think you were talking just now to Mr. and Mrs. Howard — were you not?" — and again he looked hard at me. ■ " I was," I replied, sauntering along gently by his side in the direction of Aldersgate Street. " Well, and what were they saying to you ? chatting in a very familiar way, I have no doubt ? — for they are good easy kind of people, and give themselves no airs." " They spoke to me with considerable kindness," I rejoined. "You give me such cm't answers, my dear Joseph," said Mr. Lanover, " that I cannot help thinking you stiU experience a secret rancour against me. Why^ you foolish boy! you little know that all along I meant to be the very best friend you had in the world, if you would only have permitted me. Of course everybody has his failings : perhaps mine consist of certain infu-mities of temper — and you ought to make allowances. Ah, Joseph ! when you were living with me, I used to build up such castles in the air — I was ._/ 184 JOSEPn WiriMOT ; OK, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. wont to picture to myself that when you were of a proper age, you might become even more nearly related to me than now you are." I gazed upon him in bewildered astonishment. Was it possible that I understood his allusion aright ? — and the bare thought thereof made my countenance glow with the animation of joy and hope. I forgot at the instant that if such had indeed been his intent, it was a somewhat strange thing he should have suddenly made up his mind to murder me on that night when I fled from his house. " Yes, Joseph," he went on to say, speaking in a mournful voice, " it was my earnest wish that in process of time you should become my son-in-law — that you should wed my daughter Annabel Ah ! she is as much improved as you are : she has grown up to be such a lovely creature — I am quite proud of her, poor child !" I knew not what to say : I was trembling all over with a feverish suspense — hope mingled with apprehension — but the former predominating somewhat. I was too much agitated and excited for deliberate reflection ; and I walked mechani- cally on by Mr. Lanover's side. "Do you ever think of Annabel?" he asked, suddenly fixing his looks upon me : and I felt the tell-tale blush rising up to my countenance. " Let me see," he went on to observe in a musing manner : " it is upwards of two years and a half since you saw Annabel last:" — so that he was utterly ignorant, or at least afiected to be so, that during the interval his daughter and I had met alike at Exeter and at Salisbury. '• Two years and a half is a long time : it has done wonders for you, and also for her. She is a lovely creature ; and as her father, I repeat that I am proud of her." Again his looks were turned upon me ; and still was I so confused and agitated — bewildered and excited, by the singular and unexpected turn which the discourse bad taken — that I knew not how to answer a single word. "You have not forgotten Annabel, then, Jo- seph ?" Mr. Lanover went on to say. " Perhaps you would like to see her again r" I started — stopped suddenly short — threw upon him a look of joyous hope — but instantaneously averted my eyes again with a revulsion of feeling as horrible as it was abrupt. For at that instant came vividly back to my mind the memory of those dark projects from which I had formerly escaped; and I was seized with a misgiving on account of him who was now speaking with so much apparent fairness and kindness. "Understand me, Joseph," continued Mr. Lan- over : " I do not seek to exercise the slightest control over your proceedings. I am sorry I ever coerced you : and certainly shall not attempt to do it again. I need not ask if your cirumstances are comfortable : your appearance indicates that they are. Well, my boy, I am rejoiced for your sake. But if you would Uke to see Annabel and her mother, you have my free permission." Once more did the animation of pleasure arise upon my countenance ; and Mr. Lanover's gaze caught that glowing suffusion as he again turned his looks upon me, "Alas !" he went on to observe iu a very melan- choly tone of voice, " I can scarcely offer you a home again, even if you were disposed to accept it ) and I dare not any longer cherish the hope that you might become Annabel's husband. For we are poor now, Joseph — very poor indeed ! Ad- versity has overtaken us ; and you are no doubt — judging by your appearance — much better off than we are." " Gk)od heavens, Mr. Lanover ! is this possible ?" I ejaculated, smitten with indescribable anguish at the thought that my adored Annabel and her excellent mother might be suffering privations. " So possible, my dear nephew," responded Mr. Lanover, " that it is only too true :" — and averting his countenance, he passed the sleeve of his coat across his eyes as if to wipe away tears. " I have had a hard struggle with the world — sometimes up, sometimes .down ; and now I am down again — and if it were not that Annabel sits from morn- ing tiU night over her needle " " Poor Annabel !" I murmured, profoundly shocked and afflicted at what I thus heard. '• Yes — it is indeed a sad thing," continued Mr. Lanover, " that such a young and beautiful crea- ture should now be doomed to an existence of drudgery and toil — that she should perhaps pine and fade away " '■' No, no !" I exclaimed wildly, forgetting that this was in the midst of the crowded street : " never ! never ! It is I who will toil for her ! Oh, !Mr. Lanover! I have indeed thought often and often of Annabel — I have never ceased to think of her ! The friendship I conceived for her at yom- house, has ripened into love 1 worship — I adore her !" "Ah, my dear Joseph," said the humpback, who appeared to be deeply affected, "how happy am I to receive these assurances from your lips ! But no — ^you shall not come and see Annabel : the spectacle of our present impoverished home would cut you to the quick " " Then do you no longer Uve in Great E.ussell Street ?" I inquired with feverish excitement. " No : our dwelling was broken up — arrears of rent were due — the landlord seized everything ; and now we are reduced to the humblest lodging — a couple of rooms, meanly furnished, and in a poor neighbourhood." My eyes were almost blinded \vith my tears as I hstened to these words ; and forgetting all the ter- rible past in respect to the humpback's conduct towards mc — having only before my eyes the heart- rending present as he had just depicted it to me — I murmured, " Oh, suffer me to accompany you to your abode ! sufi'er mc to render what assistance may be in my power !" — and then I experienced a sudden thrill of ineffable joy at the thought of hav- ing in my purse the means of proffering most sub- stantial succour. " You shall come if you will, Joseph," answered Mr. Lanover, seeming to hesitate : '• but I think you had better not. My poor wife is on her deatli- bed — Alas ! I am afraid that I have not been alto- gether as good a husband towards her as I ought — and Annabel veill perhaps be ashamed in our altered circumstances to meet you." " Annabel ashamed ?" I cried, "no, no! lam not so complete a stranger to the excellence of her disposition as to entertain that fear. Besides, it is my duty, as it is also in my power, to afford some solace." JOSEPH -R'lLirOT; OR, THE MEMOIES OF A IIAX-SEETAXT. 185 '''