OF THE 
 
 U N I VERS ITY 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
HEAETH GHOSTS. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
4 
 
HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 "GILBERT RUGGE," "A DANGEROUS GUEST," 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. II. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SAMPSON LOW, SON, AND MARSTON, 
 
 CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET. 
 1871. 
 
 {All rights reserved.'] 
 
LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, 
 STAMFO:a) s':reet a>;d chaking cross. 
 
8^3 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. IT. 
 NAEKATIVE I.— continued. 
 
 A MARKET MUDLING MAGNATE. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 IN THE NIGHT ...... 3 
 
 CHAPTEE Xy. 
 mayor's day ...... 19 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 A SHADOWED HEARTH . . . . .32 
 
 CHAPTEE XYII. 
 
 THE RIGHT WOMAN IN THE RIGHT PLACE . . 63 
 
 NARRATIVE II.— (il Sequel) 
 JOHN JUXON. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 THE CLUB-ROOM ORATOR 
 VOL. II. 
 
 . 95 
 
 b 
 
VI 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. II. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 FACE 
 
 JOHN JUXON SOUNDS THE ALARM . . .117 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A VOLUME OF PALEY . . . . .131 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 JUDEX VERSUS FAIRPLAY . . . .138 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A WRATHFUL MAN . . . . .157 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE MEETING AT THE TOWN-HALL . .179 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE RAISING OF A LONG-LAID GHOST . . 197 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SUSPENSE . . . , . . .210 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MR. MASSINGTHORPE UNMASKED . . .217 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " GOOD-BYE, SWEETHEART, GOOD-BYE . " . . 232 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A CONSISTENT MAN . . . . .241 
 
HEAETH GHOSTS. 
 NAERATIVE I.— continued. 
 
 A MARKET MUDLING MAGNATE. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 B 
 
HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IIS* TKE NIGHT. 
 
 With that nice regard to conventional pro- 
 priety that distinguished him, Mr. Ibbotson 
 always made a point of putting an early 
 termination to his Sunday dinner-parties ; 
 and this, not from any niggardly considera- 
 tion for his own port and sherry, but purely 
 out of deference to the sacred character of 
 the day. Consequently, when Frank entered 
 the dining-room after his return from church, 
 he found his father alone in that stately 
 apartment^ with the remains of the banquet 
 and half a dozen empty decanters before him. 
 
4 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 " Bring Master Frank's supper in here," 
 said Mr. Ibbotson to the servant. But 
 Frank did not seem disposed for supper, and, 
 eschewing any more substantial refreshment 
 than a maccaroon, took his seat on a stool 
 by the fireside. 
 
 Papa," began the lad, looking up at his 
 father, who sat opposite, " what did Mr. 
 Moggs mean by calling you ' your worship,' 
 at dessert, to-night, and then everybody 
 laughing in that way 
 
 Mean — my boy ? Why, that your 
 father will be Mayor of this town afore to- 
 morrow at this time," replied Mr. Ibbotson, 
 and his face relaxed into a smile of satisfaction 
 as he spoke. 
 
 " Oh !" replied Frank, quietly, looking 
 steadily at his father, " when I am a man, 
 shall I be a Mayor too ?" Frank was think- 
 ing of the office in connection with its powers 
 over gravediggers, &c. 
 
4 
 
 IjST the night. 5 
 
 " You'll stand a pretty good chance," re- 
 plied his father, " but you'll have other fish 
 to fry, I guess — or should have." The 
 honours Mr. Ibbotson coveted for his son 
 were somewhat loftier, be it said, than the 
 local dignity he himself aspired to. Not 
 that the wealthy tanner thought lightly 
 of the distinction about to be conferred on 
 him on the morrow. For months past had 
 he worked and struggled, — ay, schemed and 
 truckled — to obtain it, even to the defilement 
 of the small remnant of honour he possessed. 
 
 We shall have fine doings to-morrow, 
 Frank," continued the prosperous man. A 
 dinner at the Town Hall and bonfires at 
 night ; and you'll hear the folks cheer and 
 the band play, when I enter the Hall, and 
 see a fine procession, I dare say." 
 
 " Ah, that will be like Dick Whittington 
 in the story-book — eh, papa ?" 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! your father is a sort of second 
 
6 
 
 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 Whittington, I expect/' replied Mr. Ibbot- 
 son, with a chuckle. " He's carried his 
 bundle and slept on the king's highway in 
 his time, though he ain't got that wonderful 
 cat." 
 
 Do you know, papa. Miss Cringe saj^s it 
 wasn't a cat at all that made Dick's fortune, 
 but only a ship of that name ? But I won't 
 
 believe it, because — because-^ " Frank 
 
 hesitated and looked thoughtful ; it was not 
 so easy to give a reason for his faith in 
 Dick's feline friend. 
 
 " Cat or no cat, Whittington made a slap- 
 ping fortune by all accounts ; and your father 
 hasn't done much amiss in that line, my boy, 
 censidering that Market Mudling isn't what 
 London is, for money-making. When you 
 go to school, Erank^ mind you let the lads 
 know, if they give themselves airs to you, 
 that you've got a father as could buy up 
 half a dozen of your needy gentlefolks." 
 
IN THE NIGHT. 7 
 
 " Ought people to buy up needy gentle- 
 folks, papa?" Frank regarded his father 
 enquirmgly. 
 
 Mr. Ibbotson expressed no direct opinion 
 on the point, but with a chuckle replied : 
 " There's plenty of needy gentlefolks, my 
 boy, that are glad to be bought up. They've 
 all got their price — rich or poor^ gentle 
 or simple. Show 'em a well-filled purse, 
 and — be they boys, or be they men — they 
 won't say much harm of you. This is what 
 equalizes us all in these days." Mr. Ibbot- 
 son took a sovereign from his pocket, and 
 stuck it facetiously in his eye. ■ ' Look 
 at folks with a pair of gold eyeglasses, 
 Frank, and depend upon it they'll think 
 you good-looking. Ah, ah, that's queer, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 Frank made no reply : he was gazing up 
 at a picture on the wall opposite. " And it 
 came to pass, when the beggar died, 
 
8 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 he was carried by the angels into Abraham's 
 bosom." Frank knew the words on the 
 margin of the frame so well that he read 
 them mechanically. The rich man was 
 not there," pondered the boy. ''I don't 
 understand it;" and he talked but little 
 afterwards. 
 
 " Come, my lad, you are getting sleepy," 
 said his father, noticing his silence. It's 
 time you were in bed." 
 
 The bright hue which had dyed Frank's 
 cheeks all the evening had faded away : he 
 looked pale and tired. He rose from his 
 seat, silently, as his father spoke, and going 
 up to him, kissed him affectionately and 
 turned away to leave the room. He had 
 reached the door and opened it, when he 
 suddenly turned back, and in a hurried voice, 
 said, A light, papa, a light ! The hall 
 lamp's out ;" and he looked around him like 
 one who finds himself in sudden darkness. 
 
m THE NIGHT. 9 
 
 Mr. Ibbotson went to the door. The 
 lamp was shining brightly as usual, and the 
 hall perfectly light. 
 
 " Why, you're asleep, my boy. It's as 
 light as day here." 
 
 Frank was looking about him in a dreamy, 
 bewildered way. 
 
 " It's high time you were in bed," con- 
 tinued Mr. Ibbotson, with a smile. You're 
 dreaming already and with the old joke 
 about the dustman, Mr. Ibbotson took hold 
 of his son's hand and led him to the stair- 
 case. There he parted with him, and 
 standing at the^ foot, watched the boy slowly 
 ascend the great flight of stairs, until a 
 servant appeared in sight. 
 
 When Mr. Ibbotson returned to the 
 dining-room, he proceeded, according to his 
 usual custom, to mix himself a glass of 
 grog. 
 
 Drawing his chair nearer the fire, Mr. 
 
10 
 
 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 Ibbotson placed his feet on the fender, with 
 the air of a man willing to surrender himself 
 to a little thought. After stroking his knees 
 complacently, and taking a few sips of the 
 liquid, he folded his hands across his capacious 
 waistcoat, and leaned back in his chair with a 
 meditative air. Presently, a smile hovered 
 about the corners of his mouth. Ere long, 
 the smile expanded, and a low laugh escaped 
 his lips — a laugh that expressed immeasu- 
 rable content, but with nothing genial nor 
 gladsome about it. What was it that caused 
 Mr. Ibbotson to indulge in this solitary 
 mirth ? What were the pleasant fancies that 
 filled his mind to-night ? 
 
 Gazing at his bright fire, Mr. Ibbotson's 
 thoughts have travelled back to a certain 
 wretched hearth, where a sickly woman and 
 a shivering child are striving to warm their 
 limbs over a heap of cinders begged of a 
 charitable neighbour. He is thinking of a 
 
IN THE NIGHT. 11 
 
 penDiless lad holding a horse at a rich man's 
 door, to whom the rich man's son, in mere 
 arrogance of spirit, deals a sharp tap with 
 his riding-whip, on mounting, and bids the 
 lad not forget his bow next time." That 
 penniless lad will sit side by side with the 
 rich man's son at to-morrow's banquet, con- 
 ferring not receiving honour. He is think- 
 ing of one dull winter's afternoon, when a 
 young man but newly started in business 
 paid a visit, in fear and trembling, to a cer- 
 tain bank-parlour, to obtain a little further 
 credit wherewith to carry on his trade, and 
 preferring his request with bated breath, was 
 shown the door for his pains. The potentate 
 who rebuffed him on that occasion, will, to- 
 morrow, be unable to find words in the 
 English language sufficiently eulogistic to 
 apply to his quondam suitor ; and after heap- 
 ing all the virtues on his head, will refer 
 in graceful terms to that period of early 
 
12 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 difficulties which energy and enterprise so 
 honourably surmounted." 
 
 And as Mr. Ibbotson thinks of these 
 things, and compares the old house in 
 Brown's Court, where he was born amidst 
 poverty and squalor, with the handsome room 
 where he is now sitting, and contrasts the 
 mattress of straw on which his mother died, 
 with the damask couch at his side — he laughs 
 a low exultant laugh, and his face wears a 
 hard look of triumph. For these recollections 
 bring no good influences with them, nor 
 awake one sad or tender thought. 
 
 The timepiece had chimed twelve, and 
 the fire was out, ere Mr. Ibbotson's reverie 
 was at an end. Taking up his candle, he 
 was about to retire, when his eye rested on 
 the portrait of his son, painted by Miss 
 Carpenter, which hung on the opposite 
 wall. 
 
 Bless him, he's a fine fellow !" exclaimed 
 
IN THE NIGHT. 13 
 
 the father, with involuntary admiration. 
 ''He shall make the account square one day, 
 and pay off a few old scores for his father, 
 please God !" 
 
 "With which pious aspiration, Mr. Ibbot- 
 son retired to bed, but not to sleep. That 
 future he foresaw for his son still haunted 
 his thoughts, and the darkness was filled 
 with pictures. He was assisting at public 
 ceremonies where Frank was a foremost 
 actor. He saw him carrying off school 
 prizes and college honours, mixing with 
 noblemen and scholars, and dispensing 
 money with a liberal hand. Now, it was 
 Frank in academic gown, anon in a barris- 
 ter's wig. Could it be the warmth of the 
 night that prevented him sleeping? Mr. 
 Ibbotson got up and opened the window. 
 It was dark and close. The tall shrubs in 
 the garden were waving slowly to and fro in 
 the night air; but the breeze that stirred 
 
14 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 them was languid and unnaturally warm. 
 Was it lightning that suddenly gleamed on 
 the horizon ? "Unwholesome sort of weather 
 this," thought Mr. Ibbotson, closing the 
 window—^' never knew a November like 
 it ; " and he moved the night-lamp in 
 order to shade his eyes from its light and 
 get to sleep if possible. 
 
 But when he did fall asleep, it was no 
 better. A horrible nightmare seized him. 
 He was walking by the seashore with his 
 boy one glorious summer's morning — the 
 sky a sapphire-blue, the sea smooth as 
 crystal — when suddenly, on the bosom of 
 the placid waters, a white-crested billow 
 rose, and ere there was time to flee, it broke 
 on them in a great flood of surf, and tore his 
 child away from him with a wild roar of 
 joy. Then, he was sitting at to-morrow's 
 banquet in the Town Hall, and when he rose 
 to make a speech some one clutched his 
 
IN THE NIGHT. 15 
 
 shoulder from behind, and turning round 
 he beheld his dead mother risen from the 
 grave, at whose appearance the guests all 
 fled and left him alone with her in the 
 deserted hall. Mr. Ibbotson awoke hot 
 and panting, his face bathed with perspi- 
 ration, and his heart beating fast. The 
 shadows from the night-lamp loomed heavily 
 on walls and ceiling ; the watch under the 
 pillow ticked loud and fast in the silence. 
 
 ^^Hark! what was that?" 
 
 Mr. Ibbotson sat up and listened. Pshaw ! 
 It was nothing but the wind sighing round 
 the house, and the laurels rustling their 
 leaves from time to time. He lay down 
 again, and heard the church clock strike 
 three. Listening to the last stroke dying 
 away, he fancied he heard a faint cry. It 
 was so slight a sound that it might have 
 been only a gust of passing wind, or a creak- 
 ing bough outside. No, it was not that. 
 
16 HEAETH GHOSTS. 
 
 There it was again ! — a feeble wail, and close 
 at hand. 
 
 Mr. Ibbotson leaped from his bed and 
 opened the door. On the mat outside stood 
 a little figure in white, moaning and hold- 
 ing its hands to its throat. At the sight of 
 his child, Mr. Ibbotson felt a sudden rush 
 of blood to his head, and a sharp report 
 went ofi* in his ears. For a moment he 
 thought his life was threatened by a fit. 
 
 ''Frank! my boy! what's the matter?" 
 
 The child made no reply, but moaned .as 
 before, and gazed round the room with 
 wandering lustreless eyes. 
 
 " I can't learn it, Thomas. ' The curfew 
 tolls the knell of parting day before the 
 bright sun rises over the hill,' can't be right. 
 They've put all the words wrong in the 
 book, and — and — it's very cold, I think." 
 The child shivered, and then, after trying 
 again to repeat the words that troubled his 
 
IN THE NIGHT. 17 
 
 mind, said : " I have seen old Wormsley 
 again, Thomas. He wanted me to take the 
 measure for my grave under the church, but 
 I ran away; and — and his hands were so 
 thin and long. Oh !" 
 
 A shudder, that prolonged itself till he 
 trembled from head to foot, passed over the 
 boy ; and then, with a plaintive cry of 
 Where is papa?" he fixed his wandering 
 gaze upon his father's face and said, " Take 
 me to him, will you ?" 
 
 "I'm here, my boy. Don't you know 
 your father ? Lord help me !" 
 
 Mr. Ibbotson stood speechless for a mo- 
 ment, with the sweat standing in great 
 drops upon his brow, and then, with a dread- 
 ful fear that his son was going to die, he 
 took him in his arms and carried him to 
 his own bed. 
 
 Ten minutes later, lights were glancing 
 from all the windows of the house, and 
 
 VOL. II. C 
 
18 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 Thomas, the groom, was flying through the 
 silent streets in the direction of the red and 
 purple lamp that shone above Mr. Lance's 
 door. 
 
19 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 mayor's day, 
 
 '^GooD morning to you, Mr. Moggs. A 
 busy day this for you political gentlemen ? 
 Pretty certain who is to be our Mayor this 
 year, I hear. Well, I'm sure I hope it will 
 give everybody satisfaction. Nothing so 
 desirable as peace and quietness amongst 
 neighb6urs, is there, Mr. Moggs ?" 
 
 Before assenting to this amiable proposi- 
 tion, Mr. Moggs, to whom little Miss 
 Crewels, taking a sniff of the morning air at 
 her shop-door, was addressing the observa- 
 tion, looked cautiously up the street and 
 down the street ; and then, glancing warily 
 round the Repository, motioned Miss Crewels, 
 
20 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 ill a mysterious manner, to retreat within- 
 doors. 
 
 True, marm, it is a busy day," began 
 Mr. Moggs, laying his umbrella on the 
 counter and seating himself on the shop- 
 stool ; and it's pretty certain, too, who'll be 
 the Mayor of this town before many hours. 
 My friend Sam Ibbotson is booked for that 
 
 place, marm, no fear of that. But ," 
 
 here Mr. Moggs stopped and lowered his 
 voice, can you inform me how many 
 tickets are sold for the dinner at the Town 
 Hall?" 
 
 That I really can't, Mr. Moggs. I only 
 know that Mrs.Brownsmith, at 'The George,' 
 told me they had orders to provide for a 
 liundred and fifty, and that she has never 
 been luckier with her jellies, which stood as 
 firm as rocks last night." 
 
 Mrs. Brownsmith is cooking a dinner 
 that won't be eaten this day^ I fear," said 
 
mayor's day. 21 
 
 Mr. Moggs, with an air of portentous mys- 
 tery, and he shook his head and stared so 
 hard that Miss Crewels ahnost screamed at 
 him. 
 
 Not eaten ! Good gracious, Mr. Moggs, 
 what's the matter ?" 
 
 Mr. Moggs told of the alarming illness 
 that had befallen Mr. Ibbotson's son, and 
 then hurried away to spread the doleful 
 intelligence amongst Mr. Ibbotson's sup- 
 porters. 
 
 A " Mayor's Day/' to modern ears con- 
 veys the idea of an event of no great poli- 
 tical importance or party excitement ; but 
 in years not long gone by, the election of 
 the first magistrate of a borough, even in 
 places of comparative insignificance, often 
 created an amount of public disturbance and 
 private enmity that would have done credit 
 to a contested " General Election." Already 
 there was a certain swaggering demeanour 
 
22 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 abroad in Market Mudling this morning ; and 
 knots of idle corn-porters and bargemen were 
 gathered about the doors of the inns and 
 publichouses, ready to commit any breach of 
 the peace required for a pint of beer and a 
 shilling. But as the time for parading the 
 town with a band of music^ knocking off loose 
 shutters, and running away with any unpro- 
 tected wooden property for the bonfires, had 
 not yet arrived, these worthy burghers had to 
 confine their energies to disputing amongst 
 themselves, and chafHng any unpopular 
 public character who might chance to pass 
 
 by. 
 
 Mr. Moggs had the misfortune to find 
 himself the centre of one of these groups at 
 the next street-corner. 
 
 Here comes the jackal/' cried a wit. 
 
 We shall have the lion go by presently 
 and such a fire of personalities was launched 
 at Mr. Ibbotson's satellite, that Mr. Moggs 
 
mayor's day. 23 
 
 lost his temper, and threatened them with 
 the poHce, Whereon the crown of Mr. 
 Moggs's best hat was quickly battered in, 
 the tails of his Sunday coat were wrenched 
 off, and his whole person so hustled and 
 maltreated that he was fain to take shelter 
 in a neighbouring baker's shop, where he 
 would certainly have hidden himself in the 
 flour-bin had not the baker's wife interfered. 
 
 While Mr. Moggs was undergoing this 
 rough usage at the hands of the populace, 
 little Miss Crewels was hastening down to 
 Northgate to carry to Miss Carpenter the 
 news she had just heard. Being informed 
 by Patty that her mistress was engaged at 
 her easel, Miss Crewels gently opened the 
 parlour-door and entered the room on tip- 
 toe, by way of testifying her respect for the 
 Fine Arts. 
 
 ''My dear Miss Carpenter, I hope you 
 will excuse me. I would not for worlds 
 
24 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 disturb you in a moment — of — of Oh, 
 
 dear me, what is the word?" 
 
 ''Inspiration, I suppose you mean," said 
 Rachel, laughing. "No fear of that. Miss 
 Crewels ; my poor pencil would lie idle a 
 long time if I waited for moments of inspi- 
 ration. I can't afford to wait for those 
 precious seasons, but I work whenever Patty 
 doesn't want me in the kitchen. Pray sit 
 down ; I wanted to see you, for I have some 
 news to tell you." 
 
 As Miss Crewels was never averse to 
 hearing a little news, and as she knew what 
 she had to tell herself would cause pain^ 
 she unfastened her bonnet-strings and sat 
 down. 
 
 I always tell Lawrence that you were 
 my first patroness, and have a right to hear 
 how I get on, Miss Crewels. When I be- 
 come a celebrity, folks will point you out as 
 the discoverer of my genius ; we shall go 
 
mayor's day. 25 
 
 down to posterity together, Miss Crewels, 
 I've no doubt." 
 
 " Oh, dear Miss Rachel, how can you talk 
 so ! I'm sure I often reproach myself with 
 having those beautiful drawings of yours so 
 long on hand, though really if I could have 
 done you any good by it I would have had 
 my likeness taken in all the different sizes 
 and hung round the shop — indeed I would." 
 
 " I don't doubt it, Miss Crewels ; but, 
 joking apart, I have really something to 
 tell .you. I was sitting at my work one 
 morning last week, when, hearing a sound 
 of wheels, I looked up and saw a fine 
 yellow chariot, and an elderly lady alighting 
 at our gate. I knew at once that it must be 
 the old lady at ' The Greorge/ about whom 
 I have heard so many funny tales of late, 
 and I wondered what in the world brought 
 her here. She stood and took an inspection 
 of the house through her glass, and not until 
 
26 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 she had well surveyed it, did she open the 
 gate and walk in. As my hands were 
 covered with paint, I made my escape, whilst 
 Patty ushered the old lady in. On return- 
 ing to the room, I found her standing on 
 the hearthrug, looking up at that likeness 
 of poor papa I copied from a miniature last 
 winter, and so engrossed was she with it 
 that she took not the slightest notice of my 
 entrance. I gave a cough, moved a chair, 
 but she never stirred. ' Will you not take 
 a seat?' I was beginning, when she turned 
 round, and said : ' Had any one but you 
 spoken^ my dear young lady, I would have 
 boxed their ears. How do you do?' It 
 was very difficult not to laugh ; but the 
 old lady looked so grave as she shook me 
 by the hand that I didn't. ' Did you paint 
 that picture, my child ?' she asked. 'Well, 
 well, your talent could not be better em- 
 ployed/ and 1 thought I saw a tear glistening 
 
mayor's day. 27 
 
 in her eyes, as she patted my hand. Eeally 
 one would have thought from her sympa- 
 thetic manner that she had known it was 
 poor papa." 
 
 Miss Carpenter stopped a moment to 
 wash out a brush, and then continued : 
 And what do you think she had come for ? 
 To ask me to take her portrait, of all things ! 
 Yes; and she was so delicate about terms, 
 and spoke so pleasantly of my brother (who 
 has attended her from time to time), that 
 we were not long in settling matters, and 
 Miss Pyphos comes to give me a sitting 
 every day, and behaves like the dearest, 
 oddest old woman that ever was seen. 
 That's my piece of news. Miss Crewels ; and 
 now what is yours ?" 
 
 But Eachel's face changed, and her liveli- 
 ness departed, when she heard what Miss 
 Crewels had come to tell. 
 
 Whilst the news of his son's illness was 
 
28 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 thus gradually becoming known throughout 
 the town, Mr. Ibbotson was pacing to and 
 fro in his dining-room, with a face that 
 already looked years older, from the suspense 
 and anxiety of the last few hours. From 
 time to time he stopped suddenly in his 
 walk — he was listening for any sounds from 
 the sick-room overhead, where the doctors 
 were in consultation. Mr. Ibbotson glanced 
 anxiously at the clock every few minutes, 
 and bit his nails. It was approaching the 
 hour when he was due at the meeting of the 
 Town Council. 
 
 " Well — well, gentlemen ?" he ejaculated, 
 impatiently, as the doctors at length en- 
 tered the room. 
 
 Dr. Bucephalus^ who was not to be thus 
 hurried, and knew his importance as the only 
 physician wifchin thirty miles, drew off his 
 gloves, took a seat and a quill pen, and look- 
 ing at the inkstand for a minute, as though 
 
MAYORS DAY. 29 
 
 balancing a prescription in his mind, said, 
 You'll send and have this made up imme- 
 diately, Mr. Lance," before he made any 
 answer to Mr. Ibbotson's enquiry. 
 
 This is a sad business, Mr. Ibbotson," 
 began the doctor, deigning to reply when 
 he had finished writing, a very sad busi- 
 ness, and to-day of all days in the year ! 
 However, I don't see that we need appre- 
 hend any immediate danger. Your son is 
 very ill, sir, and — and there is, I allow, a 
 degree of obscurity about the case ; but 
 nature, sir, is kind, and our ministrations 
 are powerful, sir, — powerful. I see no 
 reason, therefore, under the existing circum- 
 stances, why you should absent yourself from 
 your public duties this morning. I think, 
 Mr. Lance, I address the Mayor -elect of our 
 borough — eh ?" 
 
 .Mr. Lance bowed; Dr. Bucephalus smiled; 
 but Mr. Ibbotson took no notice of either. 
 
30 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 " If I go yonder, you'll stop here/' he 
 said, turning to Mr. Lance, and send me 
 word in an hour ?" 
 
 " Certainly, Mr. Ibbotson, you may leave 
 matters in my hands." 
 
 Mr. Ibbotson rose, as though about to 
 start out at once, but Mr. Lance stepped up 
 to him, and with an air of embarrassment, 
 whispered : Better shave first, I think, and 
 clean collar, eh ? Hem ! public opinion, you 
 know." 
 
 " Bless my soul !" Mr. Ibbotson felt his 
 unshaven beard and glanced at himself in 
 the glass. " Thank you. Lance. I'll go and 
 dress," and with a hasty nod to the medical 
 men, he left the room. 
 
 Agreeably to Mr. Moggs's prediction, Mr. 
 Samuel Ibbotson was elected Mayor of the 
 borough of Market Mudling by a large 
 majority. The cheer that greeted him as 
 he left the Town Hall, arm-in-arm with the 
 
mayor's day. 31 
 
 Town Clerk J brought a flush of pride to his 
 cheeks; and as he bowed to the noisy mob 
 of partisans about the doors, and made his 
 way down the High Street, followed by his 
 friends, he felt his breast swell with pleasure 
 that for the moment was unalloyed. A 
 messenger, five minutes before, had put a 
 slip of paper in his hand. It was a bulletin 
 from Mr. Lance, reporting favourably of his 
 patient, and advising that no change should 
 be made in the proceedings of the day. 
 
 "You'll get your dinner yet, Moggs/* 
 whispered Mr. Ibbotson, in the ear of his 
 satellite ; " read that." And his Worship's 
 face brightened, and he held his head more 
 erect than he had done all the morning. 
 
32 
 
 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 A SHADOWED HEARTH. 
 
 The shadows of the short November after- 
 noon were gathering over the old Town Hall 
 of Market Mudling. In the chief chamber 
 of the Hall the Mayor's banquet lay spread ; 
 but, alas ! neither Mayor nor guests were 
 seated at the board. The roast pigs sent 
 up a savoury steam from the kitchen below ; 
 the pheasants sat sarcastically viewing their 
 own feathery tails ; and the boar's-head 
 grinned with a sardonic air at the boneless 
 turkey, decked with sacrificial parsley and 
 white ribbon. They were ready, but w4iere 
 were their consumers ? 
 
 With a rueful eye Mrs. Brownsmith 
 
A SHADOWED HEARTH. 33 
 
 veyed her jellies and blancmanges, which 
 mocked her with their lustre ; and with 
 a melancholy shake of the head, Doggie, 
 the town-crier and toast-master, contem- 
 plated the scarlet coat of his official livery, 
 and the dozens of port and sherry drawn 
 from the cellars of "The George." There 
 was an end to all prospect of the dinner to- 
 night. A despatch had been received by the 
 Dinner Committee stating that Mr. Ibbotson 
 could not possibly attend. Even the most in- 
 veterate lovers of roast-pig and venison could 
 not but see the impropriety of sitting down 
 to a Mayor's banquet without a Mayor to 
 grace the feast. Keenly, therefore, as the 
 gastronomes of Market Mudling felt their 
 disappointment, they could do no other than 
 acquiesce in the adjournment of the banquet. 
 
 But that section of Mr. Ibbotson's political 
 party whose favour and goodwill depended 
 on beer, bonfires, and other cheap aids to 
 
 VOL. II. D 
 
34 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 popularity, did not see why they were to be 
 done out of their evening's amusement, 
 especially when they had carried the day 
 and been promised a jollification. So, as 
 soon as darkness set in, preparations for 
 the bonfires were actively commenced, and 
 the streets became alive with squibs and 
 crackers. The ringers too, and the harmonic 
 brass band, were not disposed to forego their 
 share in the honours of the evening and the 
 perquisites of the morrow ; and so the church- 
 bells clashed, and the trombones brayed, and 
 gunpowder exploded, and, in a short time, 
 tlie whole town was in a state of high excite- 
 ment, smoke, and tumult, according to im- 
 memorial usage on the 9th of November. 
 Seeing the turn matters were taking. Miss 
 Crewels, at an early period of the evening, 
 ordered her apprentice to put up the shutters, 
 and, retiring to the back-parlour, filled her 
 ears with cotton-wool to deaden the revo- 
 
A SHADOWED HEARTH. 35 
 
 lutionary sounds abroad^ and refused to open 
 her doors again to friend or foe that night. 
 
 While the public was thus bent on doing 
 honour to the occasion, the man whom they 
 feted was sitting in his dining-room, with 
 his face buried in his hands, and his head 
 bowed upon his breast. He had returned 
 home that afternoon to find his son taken 
 suddenly worse, and a panic in the house. 
 Servants were running to and fro, and poor 
 Miss Cringe (in real hysterics this time) 
 was screaming and sobbing in the hall, and 
 no one taking the slightest notice of her. 
 
 ''D — n that woman, put her to bed!" 
 roared Mr. Ibbotson, with a sudden return 
 of the old voice and manner; and Miss 
 Cringe (utterly useless in such an emergency) 
 was then and there carried off to her room 
 and seen no more all night. This ebulHtion 
 of anger having subsided, Mr. Ibbotson 
 mounted the stairs and entered the sick-room. 
 
36 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 His child was lying lanconscious on the bed ; 
 the doctor standing by with a grave face. 
 
 ''Worse, eh?" demanded Mr. Ibbotson, 
 briefly. " You sent me word he was better. 
 How's this ?" 
 
 " I did, Mr. Ibbotson," replied Mr. Lance ; 
 but he is worse now, nevertheless." 
 
 " And you advised me to go to yon 
 dinner? Pray do you know what's the 
 matter with the boy, or do you not ?" 
 Mr. Ibbotson looked fiercely across the bed 
 at his friend and medical adviser. 
 
 " I'll tell you presently, sir — you are ex- 
 cited just now," retorted Mr. Lance, annoyed 
 at the unwarrantable tone in which he was 
 addressed. 
 
 Excited ! What the . Come, sir, 
 
 answer my question !" 
 
 " We won'i wrangle over your child's 
 sick-bed, Mr. Ibbotson," replied the doctor, 
 repressing his temper. " Your son has got 
 
A SHADOWED HEARTH. 37 
 
 the fever, and I won't answer for tlie conse- 
 quences." 
 
 The — the fever ?" stammered Mr. 
 Ibbotson. 
 
 " Yes, the fever," and Mr. Lance turned 
 away as he spoke. 
 
 " I — I — I won't believe it. Stop — stop 
 — don't go ! " 
 
 The doctor had only turned to reach a 
 bottle of medicine on the drawers, 
 
 " I'm not going away, sir. Please to 
 ring the bell." 
 
 Suddenly grown submissively dependent 
 upon the man he was trying to bully, Mr. 
 Ibbotson did as he was bid. Eeturning to 
 the bedside, he stood and gazed in fearful 
 silence on the little face lying on the pillow. 
 
 " Lance, I — I'll go downstairs." The 
 man's voice faltered, as he turned away from 
 the bed ; but he curtly declined the doctor's 
 offer to light him from the chamber. 
 
38 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 Mr. Ibbotson descended to the dining- 
 room, and sitting down by tlie fireside, his 
 head sank upon his breast, and he sat there 
 alone with his thoughts (how changed from 
 those of the night before I) until the twih'ght 
 fell upon the chamber. 
 
 Ere long the twiUght had deepened into 
 night, but Mr. Ibbotson still sat there, 
 stunned with the blow that had fallen on 
 him, and slowly realising the terrible calamity 
 at hand. 
 
 Had it come then to this — • that his 
 son's life was threatened by the disease 
 which he had ignored and scoffed at, when 
 others were its victims ? Was it possible 
 that this sickness could have disappeared 
 from his property only to return and force 
 its way within his own doors ? Ay, and 
 men would cry, ''A judgment on him — 
 a judgment!" and his enemies would view 
 it as a retribution from on High. 
 
A SHADOWED HEARTH. 39 
 
 Well might the man groan, and hide his 
 face between his hands ! Well might he, at the 
 sight of the picture which had caused him 
 such pleasant reveries overnight, burst out 
 weeping as he had never wept since his birth ! 
 The discovery of his son's danger had, at last, 
 melted the crust of worldliness and self- 
 deception that had grown about his heart. 
 At that moment (transient as the emotion 
 was) he would have given every shilling he 
 possessed to save his child. 
 
 And, as if to mock his anguish at this 
 m oment, a sound of cheering and huzzaing — 
 a roar of distant voices — reached his ears ; 
 it was the crowd shouting round the bonfire 
 in the marketplace. An explosion followed ; 
 it was the Corporation cannon going off. 
 The room grew light, and a ruddy glow 
 played on the walls and ceiling. Then 
 came a windy sound of bells, and a din 
 of distant drums and fifes. The whole 
 
40 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 town was astir and bent on revelry. Mr. 
 Ibbotson ground his teeth and muttered 
 an oath. 
 
 While thus the Mayor was passing the 
 first hours of the night of triumph he had 
 so long anticipated, Rachel Carpenter and 
 her brother sat by their fireside in Northgate. 
 Eachel was sewing, and Lawrence reading 
 aloud from a volume he had just taken down 
 from the bookcase behind him. Though 
 Rachel appeared to be listening attentively, 
 the tear which glistened on her cheek was 
 not called forth by the poet's spell. She was 
 thinking of the news Miss Crewels had 
 brought her that morning. The clock on 
 the mantelpiece had just struck nine, when 
 the reader's voice was suddenly interrupted 
 by a hurried ringing at the gate. The book 
 was laid aside, and the next minute Patty 
 ushered in Mr. Julius Lance. 
 
 In a few words the visitor explained the 
 
A SHADOWED HEAKTH. 41 
 
 object of his visit — it was to ask Mr. 
 Carpenter to accompany him immediately 
 to Montezuma House, to see Mr. Ibbotson's 
 son. 
 
 " Mr. Ibbotson wishes to have another 
 opinion. No objection on my part to meet 
 any professional gentleman ; but thinking 
 that, owing to — to peculiar circumstances, 
 you might decline to attend, Mr. Ibbotson 
 begged me to step in and explain." 
 
 Mr. Ibbotson need not doubt my willing- 
 ness to give any aid* I can. I am at your 
 service, Mr. Lance — Eachel, help me on with 
 my coat." 
 
 Such was the expedition of all concerned, 
 that in less than ten minutes Mr. Carpenter 
 and his companion (taking a bye-route to 
 avoid the rabble in the streets) had reached 
 the doors of Montezuma House. 
 
 "When Mr. Carpenter entered the dining- 
 room, he at first failed to distinguish his old 
 
42 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 opponent, for he sat in the farther corner of 
 the room. As the doctor advanced, Mr. 
 Ibbotson drew his chair still further back^ 
 purposely to shade his face from view. 
 
 You know what's happened, sir ?" began 
 the afflicted man, in a husky voice, as 
 soon as he had requested Mr. Lance to leave 
 the room. " He's told you why I've sent 
 for you, I suppose ? Well, sir, I want to 
 know whether — whether you can — that is — 
 what your opinion of the case is — you under- 
 stand ?" 
 
 Certainly," replied the doctor, for there 
 was a pause here, during which Mr. Ibbotson 
 drummed his fingers restlessly on the arm 
 of his chair. 
 
 " I don't expect folks to work for me 
 without good pay, you know," continued 
 Mr. Ibbotson, but without raising his head 
 whilst he spoke. " Plain speaking saves 
 words. Will you — can you, save my son, 
 
A SHABOWED HEARTH. 43 
 
 sir? There's a cheque on that table for a 
 hundred guineas, which you'll oblige me by 
 taking up ?" 
 
 The abruptness of this unexpected pro- 
 posal rendered Mr. Carpenter dumb for the 
 moment. 
 
 " Not enough, sir, eh ? Well, then, I'll 
 double it," went on Mr. Ibbotson with haste, 
 mistaking the doctor s silence. " Name the 
 figure, sir, and it shall be yours, but for 
 God's sake save the boy !" 
 
 Mr. Ibbotson, whatever I do for your 
 son, I am bound to do, as an honest man, in 
 virtue of my calling. For the sake of my 
 professional reputation alone, I should be a 
 dolt not to use my best efforts to cure him. 
 If you can see, sir, that it is to my private 
 interest to try and save your son's life, 
 perhaps I need not say any more. I beg 
 you will put by that cheque, and let me be 
 shown upstairs." 
 
44 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 The allusion to " private interest " was 
 not without its due weight. Mr. Ibbotson 
 felt the force of the argument, and, con- 
 cluding the speaker was no fool there, begged 
 him to walk upstairs. 
 
 It was with unaffected sorrow that Mr. 
 Carpenter beheld the sick boy when he 
 approached the bed. There was no mis- 
 taking the nature of the disease. The 
 doctor had witnessed it too often, alas ! not 
 to know its signs at a glance. After a short 
 pause, he turned away to convey, as gently 
 as he could, his fears to the father. But 
 almost at the first word Mr. Ibbotson 
 stopped him — the veins swelled in his 
 forehead, and he looked as if he would have 
 struck the speaker had he continued. And 
 yet, five minutes later, the man was standing 
 on the staircase outside, crying like a child, 
 and begging Mr. Carpenter to " bear him no 
 malice, but let bygones be bygones." What 
 
A SHADOWED HEARTH. 45 
 
 promises and protestations Mr. Ibbotson 
 would have made in this abject state of mind 
 Mr. Carpenter could only surmise. He was 
 recalled to the sick-room. 
 
 Meanwhile, the alarm and disquiet that 
 had come upon the household increased 
 rather than abated as the night advanced. 
 The kitchen (which had been in low spirits 
 all day) had worked itself up by night into 
 a highly nervous and superstitious state of 
 mind. The cook, who had been on the look- 
 out for bad omens all the evening, and had 
 made a point of examining every bit of coal 
 that flew out of the fire to see whether it 
 resembled a cofiin, declared that she couldn't 
 go to bed in her present frame of mind not 
 for gold untold," and proposed that they 
 should all sit up after supper, to bear one 
 another company, and have a little hot ale, 
 spiced, with dry toast, by the kitchen-fire — 
 ''that is," continued cook, '4f Miss Yeal don't 
 
46 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 object." Miss Veal, who was a dressmaker, 
 and the housemaid's cousin, had dropped in, 
 to bring home the cook's new Sunday mantle, 
 and, being of a sympathetic disposition, 
 had not required much persuasion to stay 
 supper with her afflicted friends, or to par- 
 take of the hot ale, which was handed 
 round by the scullerymaid. 
 
 " Come, Thomas, you musn't give way, 
 3^ou know. It's a world of trouble, and 
 we're born to grief like the flowers of the 
 field, as neither toils nor spins," remonstrated 
 cook. Take a drop now, you ain't touched 
 nothing all day." 
 
 No, thank'ee," said the man, scarcely 
 raising his head. 
 
 Well, we all know what's best for us at 
 these times," remarked the housemaid, with 
 a sigh. Wlien Sister Brown's youngest 
 was took, I couldn't have eaten a morsel if 
 you had paid me. And I always did say as 
 
A SHADOWED HEARTH. 47 
 
 Master Frank was more like Susannah 
 Brown than any child I ever saw — as well 
 you knows, Jane Veal." 
 
 Miss Veal assented ; and thereupon fol- 
 lowed a conversation on infant deathbeds, 
 ghostly warnings, and other like topics of a 
 lively nature, in the course of which it 
 appeared that nearly every person present 
 had always foreseen the present calamity^ 
 and foretold it to their friends and ac- 
 quaintances in prophetic moments. When 
 T spilled the saltbox, yesterday, I knew it 
 wasn't far off," remarked cook. " Lo/, Mary ! 
 Hark! What's that?" 
 
 A queer noise, certainly, but not super- 
 natural. Betsy, the scullery maid, sitting 
 outside the fireside circle, as became a person 
 of her grade, had fallen asleep, and was 
 snoring frightfully — a breach of manners 
 that the housemaid indignantly resented, 
 and demanded whether she (Betsy) didn't 
 
48 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 know better than to sit snoring there, at 
 such a time as this, frightening everybody 
 out of their wits." 
 
 The conversation was resumed, and might 
 have lasted all night, had not Miss Veal 
 interrupted her cousin, just as the clock was 
 about to strike twelve, by solemnly demand- 
 ing " whether the company didn't observe a 
 winding-sheet in the candle," — a remark 
 which almost paralysed the cook, and cast 
 such a gloom over the whole kitchen that 
 no one dared to look over his or her shoulder 
 for the next five minutes. 
 
 Tt was at this solemn juncture that Betsy, 
 the scuUerymaid, who was wide-awake now, 
 and enjoying a cool seat near the door, 
 uttered a shrill scream, and suddenly became 
 cataleptic. Outraged at what they deemed 
 this wanton trifling with their feelings, the 
 cook and housemaid were about to pour a 
 jug of water on the maiden's head, when 
 
A SHADOWED HEARTH. 49 
 
 Thomas, who had been sitting quietly by 
 the fire all the time, suddenly said, " Hush 
 and lifted up his hand in an authoritative 
 manner. Everyone listened, and everyone 
 turned pale, as they heard a strange noise in 
 the passage without. Even Thomas did not 
 offer to go and see what it was. There were 
 footsteps, with a sound like an iron-shod 
 staff striking on the stone pavement. The 
 next minute the door was pushed open, and 
 an ugly decrepit old woman, with a bundle 
 of rags on her back and a short pipe in her 
 mouth, stood on the threshold. The house- 
 maid shrieked, the cook dropped her glass of 
 ale, and Miss Veal showed a strong disposi- 
 tion to faint. 
 
 " Don't frighten yourselves, ladies ; I 
 wouldn't hurt a hair o' your heads. It's no' 
 but poor old Nan, as has bought many a 
 good shillin's worth o' bones and grease o' 
 you. Miss Lees, and many a old shoe or a 
 
 VOL. TI. E 
 
50 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 Dottle o' you, Mr. Thomas. It's ages, 
 thoiigh, sin' I've seen any of you, ain't it ? 
 I'll make so bould as to step in and warm 
 my old limbs, by your leave." 
 
 The rag-gatherer approached the fire, and 
 seating herself on a stool, knocked the ashes 
 out of her pipe and laid down her bundle. 
 
 I've been comin' to see you for long 
 past, my dears ; but this mornin' I felt as 
 how I must set my foot within these doors 
 afore another sun rose, and so I've walked 
 two-and-twenty miles this blessed day — two- 
 and-twenty miles ! I ain't come an hour 
 too soon, after all — not an hour." 
 
 As she uttered the last words. Nan Sludge 
 (for it was none other than the incorrigible 
 tenant Mr. Ibbotson had expelled from 
 Wild's End) looked steadfastly at the fire. 
 
 And what may your business be, Mrs. 
 Sludge?" inquired Thomas, eyeing their 
 visitor with small approval. 
 
A SHADOWED HEARTH. 51 
 
 The old woman vouchsafed no reply ; she 
 was, or pretended to be, unconscious of the 
 man's remark. 
 
 " She's getting hard of hearing, Thomas," 
 said cook, who had recovered from her alarm. 
 
 Will you take a little warm ale, Mrs. 
 Sludge — it will do you good ?" 
 
 " Lor,' don't she look like a witch ! I'm 
 sure I wouldn't go so near her, cook, if I 
 was you," whispered the housemaid. " It 
 makes my blood run cold to see her sitting 
 there like that." 
 
 " The poor old critter looks uncommon 
 badly/' replied cook, who had a Samaritan's 
 heart. " Come, Nan, have a drop of this. 
 What's brought you here to-night, eh ?" 
 
 The old rag-gatherer took no notice of the 
 glass offered her, but sat as before. 
 
 " What's come to her ?" remarked cook, 
 in amazement. Oh, Lord, she's a-cryin' !" 
 
 A great tear^ in truth, was rolling down 
 
52 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 the old woman's grizzled cheeks, and her 
 hands trembled convulsively. 
 
 What's the matter, mum ?" asked 
 Thomas, surprised at the sight. 
 
 The old woman began talking slowly to 
 herself, while the tears coursed one another 
 down her dirty face. 
 
 " He lived but nine summers, did my poor 
 lad — nine summers ; and when they took 
 him away he was thin as a ghost wi' want 
 o' vittles. It's longer ago than I could 
 count. Jack went last — he was a man 
 grown^ and I've seen many a cold winter 
 since then. Lord! Lord! I hadn't a bit o' 
 bread to give my little lad — I hadn't ; and 
 he cried, and said, ' Mother, I wish I'd^'been 
 born a dog, and lived with the hounds up at 
 the Squire's kennels ; they gets warm por- 
 ridge, and rare bits of vittle.' And I got 
 drunk the night he died ; and pawned my 
 clothes to bury him decent, I did." The 
 
A SHADOWED HEARTH. 53 
 
 old woman bent her head at these recollec- 
 tions, and wrung her withered hands. 
 
 Poor soul ! she's known some trouble in 
 her time, I'll warrant/' ejaculated cook, com- 
 passionately. 
 
 "Trouble? Who talks o' trouble?" de- 
 manded Nan, looking fiercely around on 
 the bystanders. ''Ay, woman, these hairs 
 didn't turn grey wi'out cause !" She pushed 
 back her tangled locks from her face. 
 " Would you think I'd ever been owt but a 
 poor dirty old beast ? Would you think I 
 was a mother once, and nursed children in 
 these arms ? See there !" She thrust her 
 hand into her bosom, and drew out a scrap 
 of paper yellow with age, which she care- 
 fully unfolded. " Look ! that's her hair — my 
 own poor lassie's hair — as handsome a girl as 
 ever stepped — but she had better been ugly 
 and crippled from her birth ! She went 
 wrong, and what drove her ? Why, want o' 
 
54 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 food and clothing, and the sight o' her 
 brothers and sisters starvin' to death. And 
 when she came home to die — which she did, 
 poor soul ! two years after, and walked bare- 
 foot all the way for seventy miles — they 
 came and took the bed she lay on to pay the 
 rint, and I hadn't so much as a sixpence in 
 the house. ' Tell Sam Ibbotson/ says I, 
 *that you found this girl lyin' dying, and 
 tell him that her mother's curse will cleave 
 to him long as he lives ! Tell him that, 
 sinner as I am, I wouldn't change places wi' 
 him. The bed he's making for hisself he'll 
 have to lie down on one day !' — Oh, my 
 poor bairns ! my poor bairns !" 
 
 As she spoke, the old woman took the 
 faded lock of hair in her fingers, gazed at it 
 ruefully, and then, folding it up again with 
 careful hands, rocked herself to and fro, and 
 moaned dismally, to the discomfiture of all 
 present. 
 
A SHADOWED HEARTH. 55 
 
 "Do yon think," she went on, after a panse, 
 "that I've walked a score miles and more 
 just to buy a few bones, or an old rag or 
 two, eh ? Not I — good Lord ! I've come 
 because I couldn't do no other. I've come 
 because of my dream last night, and I ain't 
 come an hour too soon. The child will be 
 dead afore another sun shines." 
 
 " Oh, don't you talk o' that way. Nan — I 
 can't abear to hear you." Cook put her 
 apron to her eyes and sobbed audibly. The 
 rest of the kitchen was equally affected. 
 " Talk, woman ? my talk won't harm the 
 bairn. Poor little lad ! he'd got eyes like 
 my Jack's. He was too good for this bad 
 world. It's only the rubbish as is left long 
 here. He'll be gone to his home afore 
 mornin'. Hark — there !" 
 
 As Nan spoke a bell rang furiously, and 
 a confused noise of voices and moving feet 
 was heard. Thomas ran into the hall, and 
 
56 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 found his master putting on his hat and 
 coat to leave the house, while Mr. Carpenter 
 was trying to prevent him. 
 
 " Let me go, I say ! I'll have post horses 
 to London, and bring a doctor down who 
 can cure him. Do you think I'll see my 
 child die, and not try to save him ? Leave 
 go — do you think I'm mad ?" 
 
 ''Yes, Mr. Ibbotson, to propose such a 
 thing. You shall not go, if I can prevent it. 
 Listen to me one moment. Would you go, 
 if I were to tell you that, if you did, you 
 would not be near your child in his last 
 moments ?" 
 
 Mr. Ibbotson seemed staggered; he suffered 
 liis hat to be taken from him, and sat down 
 on one of the hall chairs. 
 
 " But you will save him ?" he de- 
 manded, grasping the doctor's arm, and 
 looking imploringly into his face. " Think, 
 sir, he is my only child — all I have to care 
 
A SHADOWED HEARTH. 57 
 
 for. I can't see him die like this. Oh, Lord, 
 it will kill me !" 
 
 Mr. Carpenter, who was greatly affected 
 by the sight of this passionate grief, and the 
 tearing off of all disguises in this hour of 
 agony, succeeded in persuading the afflicted 
 man to return to the sick-room. 
 
 The firelight shed a warm glow on 
 the rich hangings of the bed, but the 
 greater part of the room was in shadow, 
 save where the light of a lamp on the 
 drawers fell on the white bedclothes and 
 the little figure stretched there. The atti- 
 tude of the sick child was more peaceful 
 now; he lay with his eyes half opened, 
 breathing more freely. Above^ on the ceil- 
 ing, a huge shadow, as of a hooded figure, 
 loomed half across the chamber, where the 
 lamp and firelight mingled. 
 
 The child gave a sigh as they approached 
 the bed ; he had been watching the shadow 
 
58 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 for some minutes past. It had been there 
 all night, and disturbed him many a time 
 when he gazed at it in a half-conscious state. 
 He turned away his head, and then, as he 
 beheld his father, smiled faintly. 
 
 " I'm glad you've come, papa," he began, 
 in a voice so low as to be almost a whisper. 
 " The room has been so dark, and there have 
 been such strange things about the bed. 
 Papa, you have been crying 
 
 They were the first lucid words the child 
 had uttered since his seizure. "With a sudden 
 flutter of hope, Mr. Ibbotson turned and 
 looked at the doctor. Mr. Carpenter's face 
 was, if anything, more serious than before. 
 
 Is that you, Mr. Carpenter ?" the boy 
 went on. " You mended my dog's leg, sir, 
 didn't you ?" 
 
 The hand which the little fellow here 
 stretched out to the doctor fell feebly back 
 on the bed, and his eyes closed again. The 
 
A SHADOWED HEARTH. 59 
 
 hooded figure on the ceiling trembled in the 
 flickering firelight, and advanced with a 
 threatening gesture. " Papa," began the 
 child, reopening his eyes after a pause, 
 " was I a very little boy when mamma died ? 
 I think she would know me again, don't 
 you.^ 
 
 " You — you are ill, my boy— you are 
 wandering. Don't talk like that." 
 
 Mr. Ibbotson clasped his child's little hand 
 in his big palm, and looked at him with a 
 face full of unutterable grief. 
 
 " How cold your hand is, papa — and — and 
 how still it is ! I can't hear the clock tick- 
 ing on the drawers ; it has stopped." 
 
 Mr. Ibbotson could hear not only the 
 ticking clock, but every beat of his own 
 heart, which seemed as though it would 
 burst his bosom. 
 
 " When I get well, papa, I mean to go 
 over to Belton Wood to get some fresh food 
 
60 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 for my rabbit, and some ferns for Miss Car- 
 penter to paint. I dreamed I was there 
 with Ben Tyler last night, but — but" — 
 here the child gasped for breath for a mo- 
 ment — ''but I had not asked him to go 
 with me, because I knew you wouldn't 
 like it. I found him there, dressed like 
 Eobinson Crusoe, living all alone in a hut 
 with a green parrot. He had a gun 
 too, but he didn't know how to shoot 
 with it." 
 
 The effort of uttering these words ex- 
 hausted the child so much that he lay 
 motionless for the next few minutes, breath- 
 ing almost imperceptibly. Then he began 
 to talk again, but incoherently, and in a 
 wandering way, evidently growing weaker 
 every moment. His father bent over him, 
 but it was with difficulty he could catch his 
 words. Mr. Ibbotson sank down into his 
 chair in a state of stupor. 
 
A SHADOWED HEARTH. 61 
 
 It was growing near morning, when the 
 unhappy man was roused by his son's 
 voice asking faintly, ''Are you there, 
 papa t 
 
 ''Yes, my boy," he murmured, in a choking 
 voice. 
 
 The boy looked upwards, while a feeble 
 smile gleamed across his childish face. " See, 
 how beautiful, and good ! Like Jacob's 
 dream !" 
 
 The hush that followed — broken only by 
 the heavy breathing of the dying child, and 
 the choking sound in Mr. Ibbotson's throat — 
 was so deep that in it Mr. Carpenter could 
 hear the very rustle of the ivy on the wall 
 outside. 
 
 " I cannot see you," murmured the little 
 voice from the bed ; " but it is light, and — 
 and I am not afraid." 
 
 The boy tried to advance his lips towards 
 his father's face, but he could not move now. 
 
62 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 There were a few more moments of struggle, 
 a little further contest between flesh and 
 spirit, and then a quick spasm, a sudden 
 fixing of the features ; and ere the hooded 
 shadow on the ceiling was swallowed up in 
 gloom by the rapid sinking of the fire, the 
 child was with Him who bade us suffer the 
 little children to come unto Him. 
 
63 
 
 CHAPTEE XYII. 
 
 THK RIGHT WOMAN IN THE RIGHT PLACE. 
 
 So yon are tired at last of the society of a 
 selfish old woman ? Eh, Miss Forrester, is 
 that what yon mean ?" As she spoke, Miss 
 Pyphos's face assnmed an aggrieved, almost 
 an aggressive, air. 
 
 On the contrary, I appreciate yonr kind- 
 ness more every day^ and fear I make bnt 
 a poor retnrn for it, Miss Pyphos. When 
 yon advertised for ' a cheerfnl companion,' 
 yon had not a dnll person like myself in 
 yonr mind's eye, I think ?" 
 
 " And suppose I hadn't ? I may fancy 
 a dull person now, if I like, eh ? Nothing 
 like opposition for some folks. If yon had 
 
64 THE RIGHT WOMAN 
 
 been lively, I should probably have been 
 dull." 
 
 You are very kind," replied Miss For- 
 rester, with an emotion which she tried 
 hard to hide ; " but — but — I feel myself 
 compelled to leave you, and seek another 
 situation, as I was trying to explain." 
 
 " And you explain very badly/' said Miss 
 Pyphos. 
 
 ^^I am afraid I seem ungrateful," con- 
 tinued Miss Forrester, looking more anxious 
 than ever ; " but since you tell me that you 
 may possibly remain here altogether, I 
 think I ought to let you know that I 
 have friends in this town whom I cannot 
 meet without pain, and that I feel I ought 
 to have — to have — left you before," added 
 Miss Forrester, stammeringly. 
 
 " Thank you, madam ; you are kind and 
 polite, certainly. I hate mysteries. Miss 
 Forrester." 
 
IN THE RIGHT PLACE. 65 
 
 The young lady looked dreadfully uneasy, 
 and, with tears in her eyes, replied — ^'^I 
 
 would explain if I could, but — but " 
 
 Here she stopped, and with a little sob, 
 went on : "I will write fully to you when 
 I get away, Miss Pyphos. You have been 
 very good to me, and I cannot thank you ; 
 and I fear you would only think me a 
 hypocrite if I were to try." And Miss 
 Forrester turned away her head. 
 
 " Tut, tut !" cried Miss Pyphos. " This 
 will never do. Put away that handkerchief. 
 You shall have your way, and leave me to- 
 morrow, if you wish it, certainly. But let 
 me observe that I think you will change 
 your mind again before the clock strikes ten 
 to-night. / know what a woman's caprices 
 are. Packing ! Oh, of course ; go and do 
 your packing, by all means. Ah ! ah ! ah !" 
 And as Miss Forrester quitted the room, 
 Miss Pyphos threw herself back in her 
 
 VOL. II. F 
 
66 THE RIGHT WOMAN 
 
 chair and lauo^hed till she cried asrain. 
 
 Poor soul ! it's a shame to laugh at her, 
 but I can't help it. Now, any one who 
 didn't know me would think I was an un- 
 feeling old wretch. But I think, Miss 
 Pyphos, you have nearly satisfied your dis- 
 cerning mind. Tou are a very prudent 
 person, but you need not fear to take the 
 steps you meditate." 
 
 Shaking her head sagaciously, as she thus 
 addressed herself, the old lady drew out her 
 watch, and rang the bell for the carriage to 
 be brought round to the door, adding an 
 order for a hot supper on such an extensive 
 scale that Pinkett positively sighed with 
 compassion, feeling sure that her reason had 
 now fled for ever. 
 
 Miss Pyphos was bent, it appeared, on 
 exciting astonishment wherever she went 
 to-day. First, she ordered the carriage to 
 stop i\t i^uff, the confectioner's, wliere she 
 
m THE RIGHT PLACE. 67 
 
 created an immense sensation by ordering a 
 wedding-cake — the biggest that could be 
 manufactured. Then she drove on to the 
 milliner's, and remained one hour in con- 
 sultation with Miss Pallytoe, issuing from 
 her shop with such a quantity of parcels 
 that it took ten minutes to get them packed 
 in the carriage. That done, the yellow 
 chariot proceeded to the linendraper's ; next 
 to the shoemaker's, until at last — after ex- 
 citing the wildest suspicions in the trades- 
 people's minds, and causing the coachman 
 to wink so often at the shop-assistants 
 that it was a wonder he ever recovered 
 the natural use of his eyes — they stopped 
 at the little Berlin-woolshop in Church 
 Lane. It was clear to the meanest com- 
 prehension that Miss Pyphos contemplated 
 matrimony. 
 
 " Now, Miss Crewels, I have not come to 
 buy wools or needles, so don't show me any. 
 
fi8 THE RIGHT WOMAN" 
 
 How do you do ?" began Miss Pyphos, as 
 soon as she had set foot in the shop. 
 " Where are those drawings you told me 
 of the other day? Pack them all up and 
 bring them on to my hotel to-night, and I'll 
 settle for them. Seen Miss Carpenter lately ? 
 How is she 
 
 "Well, madam, not so well as I could 
 wish. You see, the burial of Mr. Ibbot- 
 son's son took place yesterday, and she felt 
 it much, of course — as who did not, indeed ? 
 A more beautiful and sumptuous funeral I 
 never saw. Seventeen mourning-coaches, 
 ma'am — every shop closed in the High 
 Street, and all Mr. Ibbotson's workpeople 
 walking two-and-two, in black scarves and 
 gloves. It is said we've never had such a 
 funeral in the town since old Lady Eooke 
 died. And the money that was spent ! It 
 must have been a good hundred pounds in 
 some people's pockets, though I'm sure I 
 
liS" THE RIGHT PLACE. 69 
 
 should be the last person to grudge my 
 neighbours any little profit in the way of 
 trade, especially when all the black-edged 
 paper and cards were ordered of me, which I 
 thought a very nice attention." 
 
 " Ah ! that poor man has done his best 
 to show to the world how he loved his son," 
 said Miss Pyphos, gravely. " I caught sight 
 of his face yesterday, in the mourning- 
 coach; it was a pitiful spectacle. But I 
 must be going. Don't forget to bring on 
 those things to ' The George ' this evening ; 
 and tell Mr. Bruce I expect him punctually 
 at nine." And with the same lively haste 
 that had characterised all her movements 
 this morning, the old lady hurried out of 
 the shop, and was driving back to the hotel 
 ere another minute. 
 
 How Miss Pyphos spent the rest of that 
 day was a secret known only to herself. 
 She retired to her own room, and gave strict 
 
70 THE RIGHT WOMAN 
 
 orders that she was not to be disturbed on 
 any account. It was growing dark when 
 the bell of her room was rung in haste, and 
 an order for an umbrella and a pair of clogs 
 was issued, through the door, to her maid 
 outside. ''See ,that there is no one about 
 on the staircase, Phillips,'' whispered Miss 
 Pyphos^ through the keyhole ; and the next 
 minute the old lady issued from the room, 
 muffled up in a shawl and veil, and stole 
 down the staircase as mysteriously as a 
 young lady about to elope. 
 
 ''Where are you agoin', mem, this wet 
 night? I'm sure you'll get your death, 
 mem/' remonstrated the maid. 
 
 " Ask no questions, Phillips, and I'll tell 
 you no stories. Mind my instructions are 
 carried out to the letter. I shall be home 
 to supper." And so saying, Miss Pyplios 
 opened her umbrella and issued nimbly out 
 into the street. 
 
IN THE RIGHT PLACE. 71 
 
 If slie wasn't old enough to be my 
 grandmother, I'd vow that was a love-letter 
 she's been writing all the afternoon, and 
 is now going to post/* ejaculated Phillips, 
 looking after her mistress, with a puzzled 
 face. Oh, Mr. Pinkett ! how you made me 
 jump !" The waiter had suddenly bolted 
 out of a pantry near. " I declare you have 
 given me quite a turn !" 
 
 Begging your pardon, miss, as a friend, 
 I ask, do you think it's safe and proper? 
 She's been going a long time, but shell be 
 worse afore many hours." Here Pinkett 
 looked tragically at the waiting-maid, and 
 went on : Such expressions as she's made 
 use of this day — such orders as she's give — 
 no woman in her senses ever used or give 
 before. T ain't proud, but when a woman 
 calls me ' a chattering biped,' and ' a male 
 Malyprop,' I think it's time to take it up. 
 It ain't you, Miss Phillips — it ain't the 
 
72 THE RIGHT WOMAN 
 
 quiet party as keeps company as I com- 
 plains of. I'm a peaceable man, but if she 
 was of the other sex I'd pull her nose, if she 
 stood six foot high!" 
 
 Fired with this warlike idea, Pinkett 
 commenced sparring at an imaginary Miss 
 Pyphos with such ardour that Phillips beat 
 a retreat. 
 
 While the above conversation was taking 
 place, Miss Pyphos's conduct was also under 
 discussion elsewhere in Market Mudling. 
 Patty Clegg, Mr. Carpenter's servant, had 
 taken occasion, upon carrying in tea to- 
 night, to inform her mistress that "the 
 old lady at ' The George ' was going to be 
 married before the week was out; and it 
 was true, for Puff"s man had heard her order 
 the wedding-cake that very day, and Miss 
 Pally toe's young women were going to work 
 extra hours to get on with the dresses." But 
 Patty's piece of news was not received with 
 
IN THE RIGHT PLACE. 73 
 
 much attention to-night. Eachel merely 
 pointed to her brother, who sat before a pile 
 of papers and account-books, as a signal for 
 Patty to retire. 
 
 Well, Lawrence, what conclusion have 
 you arrived at?" inquired Eachel, as soon 
 as the door was closed. 
 
 " That I shall be bankrupt in less than 
 twelve months, if things go on at this rate. 
 I have not earned £50 since last Christmas. 
 Have you never thought we should do 
 well to try our luck on the other side of 
 the globe, Eachel?" 
 
 " Oh, Lawrence, you don't really mean to 
 
 emigrate? " Eachel stopped, and then 
 
 added, "Of course I would go if you did, 
 Lawrence," in a tone that almost brought 
 tears to her brother's eyes. 
 
 They were both silent for a few 
 minutes. Though uttered thus suddenly 
 and lightly, Mr. Carpenter's words afforded 
 
74 THE RIGHT WOMAN" 
 
 food for serious reflection, as they sat re- 
 garding the fire. Eachel was the first to 
 speak. She had turned the matter over in 
 her mind, and with the hopeful enthusiasm 
 of her nature, was almost ready to approve 
 and encourage the design. 
 
 " I believe I could milk a cow, Lawrence ; 
 and I'm sure I could wash, iron, and cook 
 as well as most girls. Only I should be so 
 frightened at the natives. I shouldn't like 
 to go where there were natives, Lawrence ; 
 for I daren't fire a gun at them, I'm sure — 
 not if I saw them carrying off all the cows 
 and sheep on the farm." 
 
 " Then you won't do for the Bush, you 
 little coward," said the Doctor, with a 
 smile. 
 
 Whilst her master and mistress were thus 
 discussing their dark outlook in the future, 
 Patty was quarrelling with herself in the 
 kitchen. It had not required great pene- 
 
IN THE RIGHT PLACE. 75 
 
 tration on Patty's part to discover that 
 there was something amiss in the parlour, 
 nor to divine its cause. 
 
 " And me to go and talk o' weddings an' 
 such like, jnst as though I couldn't see how 
 'eavy their poor hearts is !" muttered Patty, 
 reproachfully to herself. 
 
 Patty's evening cup had not its usual 
 relish to-night. Her tears moistened her 
 bread-and-butter as she sat looking dole- 
 fully at the fire. Thus engaged, Patty was 
 conscious of a low knock at the surgery 
 door. " That's some poor body wants a 
 dose of physic gratis. Why can't they 
 come in a morning, as they should do ? 
 Now, Mrs. Pinch/' said Patty, as she 
 opened the surgery door, " if that's you, 
 I'm ashamed on you. You know it's after 
 hours. Nine an' ten in the mornin' is 
 master's time for seeing you folks." 
 
 " Hush, hush, my good girl. Don't talk 
 
76 THE RIGHT WOMAN" 
 
 SO loudly/' said the visitor, who wore a 
 thick veil, and was muffled up in a shawl. 
 "I have a word to say to you. Let me 
 step into the surgery, and be as still as you 
 can. You don't know me, Patty — eh ?" 
 
 " No, nor I don't want to. You go 
 along on your own business, and don't 
 stand Pattying me. I'm not going to let 
 you walk in and carry off what you can lay 
 your hands on. Come, be off!" And Patty, 
 who suspected felonious intentions on the 
 part of this nocturnal visitor, prepared to 
 resist an entry if necessary. 
 
 " Quite right, Martha (I won't call you 
 Patty, if it offends you). Protect your 
 master's property, like a good girl. But 
 I have not come to pilfer. My name is 
 Pyphos. I am the old lady from ' The 
 George,' and I want you to do me a 
 favour." 
 
 Goodness gracious !" Patty bethought 
 
m THE RIGHT PLACE. 77 
 
 her of the news, and retreated a step in her 
 
 amazement. "If she's going to ask me 
 
 to help her to run away to get married^ 
 
 I'll expose her, an old fool !" reflected 
 Patty. 
 
 " Now, you see this guinea, Martha?" 
 began Miss Pyphos, as she stepped into the 
 surgery. " Well, this shall be yours, if 
 you'll take this letter to Mr. " 
 
 " No, marm," interrupted Patty, with 
 virtuous indignation ; 111 not be made a 
 go-between. You ought to have something 
 else to think of than lovers and love-letters, 
 at your time o' life. I'd be ashamed o' 
 myself to come and ask such a thing of a 
 respectable girl !" 
 
 " Are you mad, silly creature ?" exclaimed 
 Miss Pyphos. "Who mentioned love-let- 
 ters ? I want you to take this note to your 
 master, without saying who left it, and to 
 allow me to remain in the house a few 
 
78 THE RIGHT WOMAN" 
 
 minutes until he has read it. Now run 
 along with it, and I'll wait here." 
 
 " You promise me, on your honour as a 
 lady, that this letter's all right and won't 
 cause mischief, and I'll take it, — not 
 without." 
 
 I can promise you that, Martha. It 
 will rather bring good-luck and happiness 
 to us all, I trust." 
 
 Thus assured^ Patty no longer hesitated, 
 but hastened away to the parlour, and 
 placed the letter before her master, with a 
 nonchalance that did credit to her powers of 
 intrigue. 
 
 It lay some minutes on the table before 
 Mr. Carpenter opened it ; for Patty's in- 
 genious remark — Bill again, I s'pose, sir," 
 — had not increased his desire to learn its 
 contents. The exclamation that escaped his 
 lips as he read the first few lines caused 
 Eachel to raise her head from her work ; 
 
IX THE RIGHT PLACE. 79 
 
 the agitation that overspread his face, as he 
 continued, caused her to rise from her chair 
 and bend over his shoulder. Together they 
 read what follows : — 
 
 " My deau Nephew and Niece, — Would 
 I had earned the right to address you thus 
 before ! But I didn't, and so it's of no use 
 regretting it. I am not going to be pa- 
 thetic, or even prosy, if I can help it. 
 
 " You may remember to have heard your 
 parents (whose memory I know you affec- 
 tionately treasure) mention Aunt Barbara — 
 a proud worldly young woman, who had 
 many a hard lesson to learn before she cut 
 her wisdom teeth, and who chafed and bit 
 the curb of experience, even when she had 
 cut them, till she nearly broke them all 
 again. That same Aunt Barbara never 
 forgave her brother for marrying a girl 
 whose only fault was her poverty. Miss 
 
80 THE RIGHT WOMAN 
 
 Barbara had good looks, some wit, and great 
 expectations, having been adopted by a dis- 
 tant female relative of considerable wealth, 
 who brought her up and made her a worldly 
 woman, bent on making a brilliant parti, 
 and establishing herself well in life. The 
 parti offered itself in time. Barbara was to 
 become a titled lady, and go to court — not 
 St. James's, but the Tuileries ; for she was 
 
 living in Paris, and Le Comte de N 
 
 held one of the oldest titles in France. 
 Everything was rose-coloured, and the sky 
 without a cloud — until the eve of the 
 marriage, that is. It pleased the Disposer 
 of all events to terminate the life of the 
 bridegroom by a sudden and violent death, 
 the very night when the bride stood before 
 her glass trying on her bridal garments for 
 the morrow; and the blood of the dying 
 man stained her white robe as he was 
 carried lifeless past her. The bride's heart 
 
IN THE RIGHT PLACE. 81 
 
 did not break (though God knows it was a 
 cruel shock), for the bride's heart (to tell 
 the truth) had not been so mach interested 
 in the match as her pride and self-love. 
 She left Paris, and travelled from one gay 
 place to another with her rich relative for 
 some years ; until one winter's night, on 
 quitting a ball-room at Eome, her friend 
 was seized with paralysis and died in twelve 
 hours, leaving Barbara Carpenter the whole 
 of her large fortune^ on condition that she 
 should bear her name for the rest of her 
 days. As Miss Barbara s matrimonial views 
 had been gradually undergoing a change 
 of late years, she acquiesced in the arrange- 
 ment^ and assumed the name of Pyphos, 
 with the resolution of dying an old maid. 
 In that capacity she has visited most of the 
 capitals of Europe — not scandalising her 
 neighbours or revoking at whist more 
 
 VOL. II. G 
 
82 THE RIGHT WOMAN 
 
 frequently than any other maiden lady of 
 her age. She might still have been pur- 
 suing that enviable career, had not a sudden 
 desire to return home and find out her 
 brother's children seized her one summer's 
 evening, as she sat watching a family group 
 assembled round the door of a chalet in the 
 Oberland. Acting on that impulse (which 
 her better nature told her was a right one), 
 Aunt Barbara set off home, and made 
 diligent search for her nephew and niece. 
 But for a long time she could find no clue 
 to them, such changes had twenty years' 
 absence effected. That she did find them at 
 length, however, Aunt Barbara is now pre- 
 pared to prove. That she has studied their 
 characters, and grown acquainted with their 
 tastes and habits, in a secret and surrep- 
 titious manner. Aunt B. is ready to admit. 
 That she has reason to admire and respect 
 them, she is proud to acknowledge ; and 
 
m THE RIGHT PLACE. 83 
 
 tliat she hopes and thinks they will not 
 disown her, but admit her to some small 
 share of their love and esteem, is the reason 
 she dares to sign herself, 
 
 , Their affectionate Aunt, 
 "Barbara Pyphos (nee Carpenter). 
 
 " P.S. — I am waiting outside, mj dears. 
 May I come in ? I have a great deal to say." 
 
 Of course Aunt Barbara came in, and of 
 course she had a great deal to say. Of 
 course Aunt Barbara and Rachel embraced, 
 and of course they cried. Equally a matter 
 of course was it that they should all sit 
 and talk together by the fireside for some 
 time in a sober and serious mood, and 
 ultimately adjourn to The Greorge " Hotel, 
 where they found Miss Forrester and Mr. 
 Bruce awaiting them in one apartment, and 
 a splendid supper in the next. 
 
84 THE RIGHT WOMAN" 
 
 That everybody was very surprised and 
 delighted — that Miss Forrester reconsidered 
 her intention of departing on the morrow, 
 and that Miss Crewels shed a great many 
 tears and expressed immense sympathy with 
 everybody — may be readily divined. That 
 Mr. Carpenter, moreover, looked very happy^ 
 and Rachel and Mr. Bruce w ere very lively 
 and amusing (the former declaring she felt 
 like a character in a story-book, where some 
 one always turns out to be somebody 
 else's long-lost child or parent at the last 
 chapter), were all things probable enough. 
 But that Miss Pyphos should rise from her 
 seat at the end of supper and make a speech 
 was a thing neither probable nor at all looked 
 for, especially as she wound up by the re- 
 markable declaration that ''she never was in 
 favour of long engagements, and should 
 therefore request her friend, the Eeverend 
 Arthur Bruce, to unite in holy matrimony, 
 
IN" THE RIGHT PLACE. 85 
 
 within seven days from that date, her nephew 
 Lawrence Carpenter and her friend Catherine 
 Forrester, in the parish church of Market 
 Mudhng." 
 
 Whereupon Miss Pyphos resumed her 
 seat, and Miss Forrester held down her 
 head to hide her tears and blushes, and 
 Lawrence essayed to make a speech in return^ 
 but broke down, and Eachel tried to help 
 him, but couldn't ; and everybody was fain 
 to have recourse to a general shaking of 
 hands, to hide their own and everybody 
 else's emotion. 
 
 The excitement in Number Thirteen had 
 so far communicated itself to the rest of the 
 household, that Pinkett averred that he 
 " didn't know whether he was on his head 
 or his heels and in proof of the disordered 
 state of his intellect, it may be mentioned 
 that he rushed into the kitchen crying 
 out, " Coffee for tea and two for one " — 
 
86 THE RIGHT WOMAN 
 
 an order wliicli nearly sent the cook into 
 a fit. 
 
 Bnt, my dear aunt/' whispered Eachel 
 to Miss Pyphos, as they sat side by side after 
 supper, " you have not yet told us how you 
 came to find us after all. And how could 
 you know that Lawrence and Catherine had 
 been engaged ?" 
 
 " Why, through this absurd little * Friend- 
 ship's Offering ' here, a birthday gift from 
 yourself to Catherine Forrester^ when you 
 were at school together at Kensington. I 
 found it one day on the table, a short time 
 after Miss Forrester came to live with me, 
 and, struck with the name, I inquired who 
 Miss Eachel Carpenter might be. Miss 
 Forrester's answers, which were not delivered 
 with her usual frankness, set me thinking, 
 and the result was that, by dint of sundry 
 cross-examinations and a little finesse, I ex- 
 tracted from her enough to make me pretty 
 
IN THE RIGHT PLACE. 87 
 
 sure that A^r friend was my niece, and that pro- 
 bably my nephew was, or had been, her suitor. 
 On that assumption I decided to come down 
 here, and discover for myself what sort of 
 people my relatives were. I am afraid, my 
 dear, you'll think me a sad old hypocrite^ 
 when I tell you that I have watched you 
 and your brother for the last few months 
 as closely and v/arily as though I had been 
 a detective officer. Can you forgive the dis- 
 trustfulness of an old woman who has been 
 deceived and duped many a time during the 
 threescore years of her life, and whose views 
 of human nature are not so generous or 
 trustful as they once were ?" 
 
 The old lady's hand trembled as she laid 
 it on that of her niece. Eachel pressed it 
 gently, and murmured a hope that in the 
 love and gratitude of her newly-found rela- 
 tives she would find her old confidence in 
 humanity restored. 
 
88 
 
 THE RIGHT WOMAN 
 
 And SO it came about that the bells of 
 Market Mudling rang a wedding peal ere 
 seven days passed ; and Miss Pyphos's seem- 
 ingly inappropriate orders at the milliner's 
 and pastrycook's were found to have been 
 given with that judicious forethought which 
 distinguished all that lady's proceedings. 
 
 Backed by the pecuniary influence of 
 his wealthy relative, Mr. Carpenter soon 
 became successful in his profession. It 
 was surprising what confidence the public 
 reposed in his medical skill as soon as he 
 removed to a larger house, and was reported 
 to be the heir to the wealthy old lady at 
 " The George." 
 
 One of the first steps taken by that same 
 old lady, after tlie marriage of her nephew, 
 was to establish herself in a fine old mansion 
 that had long been vacant in the outskirts of 
 the town, whither she was accompanied by 
 Eachel, who was henceforth to live with her. 
 
THE RIGHT PLACE. 
 
 89 
 
 I bought this house cheap, because folks 
 say it's haunted, my dear," said Miss Pyphos, 
 on introducing her niece to The Firs/' her 
 new home ; " and I intend it to be haunted 
 with the spirit of cheerfulness and goodwill 
 — that's you — and the spirit of reformation 
 and experience — that's me. We'll see what 
 wonders these ghosts shall work in concert, 
 won't we ?" 
 
 When Mr. Ibbotson appeared again in 
 public, he looked greyer and older, but he 
 set about the discharge of his magisterial 
 duties with much of the old self-confidence 
 and pompous zeal. It was only on Sun- 
 days, when he sat at church in the 
 corporation seat, with his eye fixed on a 
 new marble monument opposite, on which 
 the sculptor had lavished all the resources 
 of his art, that his fellow-townsmen could 
 see the change that had been wrought 
 in him. There, in the seat of honour he had 
 
90 THE RIGHT WOMAN" 
 
 SO- long coveted, he would sit and gaze at the 
 white angel kneeling in prayer over his 
 child's tomb, with a look that went to the 
 beholder's heart. 
 
 Of Mr. Ibbotson's property at Wild's End 
 various reports were soon afloat in the 
 borough. Some persons averred that an 
 insurrection of the tenants was imminent, 
 and that Tyler the bricklayer, emulative of 
 his historical namesake, Wat, was to head 
 the rebel band that was to bring the tyrant 
 to terms. Others opined that Mr. Ibbotson 
 would yet turn reformer, and, by timely con- 
 cessions, avert this catastrophe. But neither 
 party was so supported by facts as that saga- 
 cious section of the community who affirmed 
 that there had lately been an agent down 
 from London, negotiating with Mr. Ibbotson 
 for the purchase of the property on behalf of 
 an enterprising capitalist with a taste for 
 sanatory reform. That this demented person 
 
IN THE RIGHT PLACE. 91 
 
 owns no other name than Pyphos " will 
 scarcely surprise the reader. 
 
 Yes ; pleasant visions of future usefulness 
 and good rise before the old lady's eyes as 
 she sits chatting with her niece by the fire- 
 side at The Firs/' and Eachel enters into 
 her aunt's schemes with the earnest enthu- 
 siasm of her nature. But she does not neglect 
 her easel, and is promised a peep at the great 
 galleries of Europe some day. Meanw^hile 
 she is working away at a subject suggested 
 by Mr. Massingthorpe's curate, the last time 
 they spent an evening at the vicarage. It is 
 the first purely imaginative composition she 
 had attempted. Perhaps that is why Mr. 
 Bruce so often comes to help her with his 
 advice. His taste in art has developed 
 rapidly of late. 
 
 Little Miss Crewels thinks she shall lose 
 her tenant ere long, and has lately taken to 
 observing foreshadowings of some coming 
 
92 THE RIGHT WOMAN^ m THE RIGHT PLACE. 
 
 event in the sediment of her teacup, the flight 
 of magpies, or other signs of changes matri- 
 monial. But then Miss Crewels has, in her 
 time^ indulged in other reading than that 
 furnished at the Tract Repository, and holds 
 perhaps somewhat imaginative views on the 
 subject of Matrimony. 
 
 THE END OF THE FIRST l^ARRATIVE. 
 
NAREATIVE II.— (A Sequel.) 
 
 JOHN JUXON. 
 
95 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE CLUB-ROOM ORATOR. 
 
 "Tap, tap, tap. Tick, tick, tick." There 
 they were, at it as usual — the watchmaker's 
 tiny hammers, and the clocks and watches, big 
 and little, clicking away furiously all round 
 the shop, as though Time itself would come 
 to a standstill and universal confusion ensue 
 if they relaxed their exertions for a single 
 moment. In the calmness of this summer's 
 evening, Mr. Juxon's clocks and watches 
 seemed more importunate than usual. It 
 was enough to make a man nervous to hear 
 them recording the flight of Time in that 
 remorseless fashion. But ere long the big 
 
96 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 voice of the church-clock tolling out eight 
 deep-toned strokes, seemed to strike them 
 dumb with shame at their own puny efforts ; 
 but they recovered themselves, as the last 
 echoes died off in Church Lane, and were at 
 work again as brisk as ever. 
 
 " I'm afraid, John^" said a timid voice 
 from the back of the shop, you are trying 
 your eyes. Isn't it time shop was shut up, 
 my dear 
 
 The speaker had just opened the parlour- 
 door, and stood meekly on the threshold. 
 
 " You want to see my back turned on the 
 house — eh, Mrs. Juxon ? Going to have a 
 bit of supper with Miss Crewels, over the 
 way, is that it ?" 
 
 John Juxon, the watchmaker and optician 
 of Church Lane, sitting by the shop-window 
 with his magnifying-glass in his eye, and a 
 dissected watch in his hand, gave an ironical 
 chuckle ; but he never raised his head from 
 
THE CLUB-ROOM ORATOR. 97 
 
 his work. He meant to close his shop just 
 when it suited him, and not a moment 
 before. But it was not for herself Mrs. 
 Juxon was pleading, so she summoned up 
 courage to add : 
 
 But it's Saturday night, my dear ; and 
 Mason wants to be going, I daresay." She 
 glanced at the watchmaker's assistant (an 
 intelligent-looking young man, also with 
 magnifying-glass in eye and watch in hand) 
 working away at the other window : " It's a 
 beautiful night for a walk, John." 
 
 Yes ; that was apparent even within the 
 precincts of Church Lane. Though the 
 little street was all in shadow, the last rays 
 of the midsummer sun still shone on the 
 pinnacles of the neighbouring tower, and the 
 narrow stretch of blue between the house- 
 tops was tinged with a golden gleam. 
 
 ''If he wants to be going, he can go," 
 replied John Juxon^ curtly; but I shan't 
 
 VOL. 11. H 
 
98 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 leave my work undone. Fine weather or 
 foul, it isn't my habit to do that, Mrs. 
 Juxon !" 
 
 " Nor mine, sir, for the matter of that, I 
 think," replied the young man, promptly, 
 looking round him with a good-humoured 
 smile. 
 
 Did I say it was ?" returned the watch- 
 maker, tartly, still bending over his work, 
 with his nose poking amongst the wheels and 
 springs he was engaged in repairing. Did 
 I say it was ? There's a French proverb, 
 George Mason, that I happen to have come 
 across in the course of my reading, that says, 
 ' He who excuses himself accuses himself.' 
 When I charge you with neglecting work, it 
 will be time for you to defend yourself and 
 prove me a liar ; but don't try to disprove 
 what you've never been accused of. As 
 Mrs. Juxon recommends you to take an air- 
 ing, you'd better put up work, I suppose. 
 
THE CLUB-ROOM ORATOR. 99 
 
 I and the boy can shut up the shop, I've 
 no doubt." 
 
 There's no need for that, sir; I can 
 wait till youVe finished." 
 
 " Oh dear, no ! Pray follow Mrs. Juxon's 
 advice ! Exercise is very healthful these fine 
 evenings. Take the air, sir, by all means !" 
 
 The young man seemed accustomed to 
 this satirical tone. He put by his tools, 
 changed his working-coat for another that 
 hung behind an inner door, and was about to 
 leave the shop, when his master called him 
 back, and said : 
 
 If you like to take home that volume of 
 the ' Penny Cyclopaedia,' with the article on 
 * Optics ' I was talking of, and try those ex- 
 periments to-morrow, you'll find it on the 
 top-shelf of the parlour book-case." 
 
 " I don't suppose I shall have time 
 between this and Monday, sir — thank you 
 all the same," said Mason. 
 
100 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 " Ah, beg your pardon ; forgot it's against 
 your principles to make experiments on 
 Sundays. Teach the Sunday-school boys to 
 repeat the Church Catechism, and get by 
 heart the names of the stones in Aaron's 
 breastplate — eh ? That's about it, isn't it, 
 Mason? Hi, hi!" and John Juxon gave a 
 chuckle that bespoke his contempt for his 
 assistant's tastes. 
 
 Mason only nodded a cheerful Good- 
 night " to his employer, as he took his de- 
 parture ; while Mrs. Juxon, not caring for a 
 tete-a-tete with her lord and master, retired 
 to the parlour, leaving the watchmaker to 
 his work as long as daylight lasted. Before 
 half an hour the shop was shut up, and Mr. 
 Juxon, putting his head into the parlour with 
 his hat on, said : 
 
 " I'm going on to ' The George.' If Barnes 
 calls, tell him he'll find me in the club-room. 
 Where's Minnie?" 
 
THE CLUB-ROOM ORATOR. 101 
 
 Taking tea with Mrs. Dover, my dear." 
 
 Mrs. Dover was a naval officer's widow, 
 who lived at Tudor Cottage, Northgate — a 
 pleasant old lady, with weak eyesight and a 
 passion for novels ; and three days a week 
 Miss Minnie Juxon was engaged to read 
 aloud to her. 
 
 " Always some excuse for gadding about," 
 muttered Mr. Juxon. " Pray, how is she 
 to get home at this time of night?" 
 
 " I am going to fetch her myself, at nine," 
 replied the wife, meekly. 
 
 She did not add that somebody else was 
 also going to fetch home her daughter, 
 though Mrs. Juxon was quite aware of the 
 fact, and had tried to expedite that some- 
 body's departure from the shop in order to 
 give him time to run home and make a be- 
 coming change in his dress before present- 
 ing himself in Northgate. Yes, George 
 Mason and Minnie Juxon were engaged; 
 
102 
 
 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 but this is a secret as yet, and must be 
 kept such. 
 
 Mr. Juxon buttoned up his brown surtout, 
 and strode down the lane, and across the 
 marketplace, to his usual evening resort, the 
 tradesmen's club-room at " The George." 
 Eeturning the greeting of his neighbours 
 with a short nod as he entered the room, he 
 betook himself to the large armchair beside 
 the fireplace — the seat of honour of the 
 assembly. It belonged by prescriptive right 
 and privilege to the oldest member of the 
 club; and John Juxon, having smoked his 
 pipe and drank his glass of gin-and-water in 
 that room for thirty years, was such oldest 
 member, and occupied it accordingly. 
 
 But without this distinctive testimony to 
 his position in the club, it was easy to per- 
 ceive that Mr. Juxon held an exceptional 
 place amongst his old cronies. 
 
 There was a way of listening to his re- 
 
THE CLUB-ROOM ORATOR. 103 
 
 marks, a deferential acceptance of liis dicta, 
 that showed it was more than mere seniority 
 that had gained him his ascendancy in that 
 assembly. John Juxon was acknowledged to 
 be the first orator in the club, its acutest poli- 
 tician, its liveliest satirist — its chief autho- 
 rity, indeed, on all questions, social, political, 
 or religious ; and woe betide the unwary 
 stranger who questioned the infallibility of 
 this local pope ! 
 
 But to-night Mr. Juxon was taking^ no 
 part in the discussion that occupied the 
 room. He sat with bent brows, puffing at 
 his pipe in solemn silence, though an occa- 
 sional grunt of dissent, or a half-suppressed 
 
 Pshaw showed he was listening atten- 
 tively to the conversation around him. It 
 referred to a subject that had lately excited 
 considerable attention in Market Mudhng, 
 that of the management of the new schools 
 at Wild's End — a vexed and troubled ques- 
 
104 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 tion, which bid fair to set all the town by 
 the ears. 
 
 Some twelve months ago, our old friend 
 Miss Pyphos had given over to the town a 
 portion of land on her property at Wild's 
 End, and the necessary funds to build and 
 endow a school for the children in that once- 
 neglected locahty. The gift had of course 
 been universally approved. Everybody 
 applauded the lady's generosity, and every- 
 body felt interested in a philanthropic scheme 
 which would affect nobody's pocket, and 
 which all were free to criticise as they 
 pleased. The foundation-stone had been 
 laid by Miss Pyphos herself, a year ago, and 
 the building was now completed ; but the 
 difficulties of the enterprise were about to 
 commence. 
 
 Miss Pyphos was abroad with her niece, 
 with whom she had been spending a winter 
 in Italy ; but before leaving home, she had 
 
THE CLUB-ROOM ORATOR; 105 
 
 made what she considered the necessary 
 arrangements for the administration of the 
 charity, by vesting it in six trustees, whom 
 she had selected as representing the various 
 shades of political and religious sentiment of 
 the borough. Miss Pyphos imagined she 
 was acting as became a liberal-minded, 
 tolerant woman ; but she little suspected 
 what a hotbed of troubles she was preparing 
 for those six unfortunate gentlemen. 
 
 A first meeting of the trustees had taken 
 place, and upon all minor points the views 
 of the assembly were nearly unanimous ; 
 but the great question of the religious in- 
 struction that was to be adopted — its 
 nature, amount, and tendencies — was, as 
 might be expected, a question bristling 
 with difficulties. Mr. Massingthorpe, the 
 vicar, was, of course, in favour of the Church 
 Catechism, and orthodox Church of Eng- 
 land teaching ; Mr. Gregson, the iron- 
 
106 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 monger, and member of the Methodist 
 Connexion, v/as. as an equal matter of 
 course, opposed to many clauses of the Cate- 
 chism, though in favour of a sound Biblical 
 theology ; Mr. Barnes, the latitudinarian 
 newspaper editor, was for simply cultivat- 
 ing the reasoning powers, and a know- 
 ledge of the four first rules of arithmetic ; 
 while Mr. Marfleet, the humanitarian book- 
 seller, and chief apostle of progress in 
 Market Mudling, advocated some impos- 
 sible compromise, by which (to quote his 
 own words) " all the more loveable features 
 of Christian teaching could be retained 
 without its narrow and exploded dogmas.'^ 
 As for Messrs. Burley and Smith, the 
 mayor and bank-manager, they halted be- 
 tween their political sympathies with Dis- 
 senters and their social gentility. So the 
 meeting had ended without any decision 
 being arrived at ; and this abortive result 
 
THE CLUB-ROOM ORATOR. 107 
 
 was the subject under discussion in The 
 George " Club-room at this moment. 
 
 Now, when John J uxon had listened to 
 the comments of his neighbours as long 
 as his patience would allow, he bore down 
 into the thick of the discussion with more 
 than his usual animation. 
 
 " I'll tell you what it is, gentlemen 
 said he, with fire in his eyes, "this is a 
 more serious matter than some of you 
 think. It's a question of freedom — reli- 
 gious freedom ; and unless some of the 
 inhabitants of this town are prepared to 
 make a stand against the manoeuvrings 
 of the parsons, we shall have these schools 
 become mere nursing-places of bigotry and 
 superstition." (He paused a moment to 
 take a sip of gin-and-water, and resumed 
 with an energy that bespoke the sincerity 
 of his convictions.) " Now, if I know any- 
 thing of the intentions of the worthy lady 
 
108 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 who founded these schools — a lady that 
 every man in the borough is bound to 
 respect for her handsome conduct and her 
 noble liberality" — (this oratorically, after 
 the manner of John Juxon when address- 
 ing the club) — ''if I know anything, I 
 say, of her intentions, she meant these 
 schools to be places of rational instruction. 
 Catechisms, indeed ! What do the poor 
 bairns want with your priestly jargon about 
 sacraments and ' outward and visible signs' ? 
 Let 'em learn to read, write, and cipher, and 
 then take 'em into the green fields and 
 shew 'em the bootercups and daisies, and 
 the birds and insects, and thej^'ll learn 
 more religion from the sight of God's works 
 than from all your catechisms V 
 
 Mr. Juxon did not stop to explain how 
 the process of instruction was to be car- 
 ried out, by which the sight of these things 
 was to tend to the spiritual education of 
 
THE CLUB-ROOM ORATOR. 109 
 
 infant minds ; but he seemed quite satis- 
 fied with the soundness of his view, and 
 whether his hearers were so or not, they 
 did not dispute it. So, after a few more 
 puffs at his pipe, he resumed : 
 
 " I've read the report in the papers, and, 
 to my mind, there isn't one of the whole 
 six who's got good common-sense except 
 Mr. Barnes. Marfleet's views sound well 
 in print, but has too much poetry and 
 flummery about him, and you cant com- 
 bine antagonistics in that way." (John 
 Juxon liked a good long word, and coined 
 one occasionally.) " No — no. Give 'em plain 
 teaching, and don't try and make bigots 
 and fanatics in this age of free inquiry. 
 That's my view ; and it was the founder's 
 too, I take it. " 
 
 "I'm not so sure of that, Mr. Juxon," 
 here interposed a grave-looking man, who 
 hitherto had sat quietly smoking, and had 
 
110 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 taken no part in the discussion. " If Miss 
 Pyphos hadn't meant to give the Church 
 party a voice, and a strong voice too, in 
 the matter, why did she nominate three 
 churchmen, and one of them a clergyman 
 into the bargain?" 
 
 The remark of Mr. Dubbin, the cur- 
 rier, evidently made a sensation in the 
 assembly. 
 
 Why, sir ?" retorted Mr. Juxon. '^Do 
 you ask me why? Because the parsons 
 must have their say in these matters ; be- 
 c^ause they're born busybodies, like the 
 women, and will have a finger in every pie." 
 
 But this was an illogical and evasive 
 reply, as Mr. Dubbin did not fail to re- 
 mark ; whereupon John Juxon, who knew 
 as well as anyone that retorts were not 
 arguments, felt his ire rise, and thrusting 
 back his iron-grey hair with his thin hand, 
 he said : 
 
THE CLUB-ROOM ORATOR. Ill 
 
 ''Mr. Dubbin, you're a churchman, and 
 I'm not. I don't want to hurt your feel- 
 ings, or say anything against your con- 
 victions, for I'm a tolerant man, sir, and 
 hate narrowmindedness ; but this I'll say 
 and stick to, that there's no set of men 
 on the earth so interfering with their 
 neighbours, so grasping for power, so keen 
 after ' the loaves and fishes,' as the parsons !" 
 And the club-room orator launched into a 
 violent tirade against the clergy, making 
 up by strength of invective what he wanted 
 in force of argument. 
 
 "But I don't see what 'the loaves and 
 fishes' have got to do with it," persisted 
 the undaunted Dubbin. 
 
 "Don't you, indeed, sir?" sneered Juxon, 
 sarcastically ; for he had but a poor opinion 
 of the other's reasoning powers, and, like 
 Dr. Johnson, felt he could not be expected 
 to find an opponent intellect as well as 
 
112 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 arguments. Why, won t the trustees ap- 
 point the schoolmasters and mistresses? 
 Won't that give them influence, and isn't 
 influence ^loaves and fishes,' or much the 
 same thing ? Do you suppose that any 
 but church-folk's children will be allowed to 
 attend the schools after a time, and won't 
 the parsons entice poor folks to church in 
 that way, and so get influence again ?" 
 
 Being a churchman myself, I don't see 
 much harm in getting poor folks to come 
 to church, if that's all you've got against 
 the clergy, Mr. Juxon." 
 
 "Nor in bribing them to go, eh?" de- 
 manded Mr. Juxon, sternly. ''Well, sir, 
 1 don't envy you your opinion, that's all. 
 To my poor way of thinking, a man's 
 religion should be the outcome of his own 
 freewill and reason, not the mere dicta- 
 tion of a priest, be he of Eome or of Oxford. 
 We've thrown ofi* the priestly fetters of 
 
THE CLUB-ROOM ORATOR. 113 
 
 the Past. The human intellect has out- 
 grown 'em, sir, and man spurns them, as 
 restrictions on the progress and develop- 
 ment of the human race." (This was a 
 passage from the ' True Church of Hu- 
 manity,' a publication which John Juxon 
 regarded as a new Gospel unto salvation.) 
 ''But here, sir, we get into a wide field, 
 and I won't ask you to follow me further." 
 And, in compassion to his weaker brother, 
 the watchmaker dropped the discussion, 
 stating that if any gentleman had any- 
 thing to bring forward to show him he 
 was wrong, he was open to conviction. 
 
 But there was silence in the room. ISTo 
 champion came forward to take up the 
 glove Mr. Juxon had thrown down. 
 Mr. Dubbin looked as though he were 
 going to do so, and twice opened his mouth, 
 but only smoke issued thence. Either he 
 distrusted his own controversial powers, or 
 
 VOL. II. I 
 
114 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 he thought silence the wiser part. So, 
 once again, Mr, Juxon was left master of 
 the field ; and his supremacy, which 
 Mr. Dubbin's bold attitude to-night had 
 momentarily imperilled, was restored to 
 him. 
 
 It was not out of consideration for his 
 family, it is to be feared, that Mr. Juxon 
 quitted the club-rooni earlier than usual 
 to-night. A man who plays a prominent 
 part in public affairs must, of course, cast 
 domestic considerations to the winds. In- 
 stead of making his way home to Church 
 Lane, as he was wont, Mr. Juxon, with 
 head bent down and shoulders raised, after 
 his habit when plunged in thought, walked 
 slowly along towards Brown's Square, the 
 only square in Market Mudling, and it had 
 only three sides to it. 
 
 In Brown's Square dwelt Mr. Barnes, 
 the editor of the Market Mudling Sentinel ; 
 
THE CLUB-ROOM ORATOR. 115 
 
 and being admitted to his presence, Mr. 
 Juxon found his political friend, with a 
 wet towel tied round his head and a 
 tumbler of brandy-and-water by his side, 
 engaged in his editorial duties. 
 
 Can you spare me five minutes ?" asked 
 Mr. Juxon. 
 
 Ten — but not a minute more," replied 
 the local Jupiter, coming down from the 
 cloudy Olympus, where he was forging his 
 editorial thunderbolts. " What is it 
 
 Mr. Juxon explained. 
 
 ''Eather late — afraid we've not much 
 space left. What is the letter to be about ?" 
 
 Ah ! humph ! That's another thing. 
 Of course we must manage it somehow," 
 continued Mr. Barnes, with a sly chuckle, 
 as his visitor explained his object more 
 fully. " Let me have it by eight o'clock 
 to-morrow evening, and you shall see your- 
 self in print on [Monday morning, Mr. 
 
116 . HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 Juxon. Good night and they parted 
 with amical smiles. 
 
 Now all the morrow^ whilst the summer 
 sun shone out on the green fields, and 
 church-bells filled the air with pious clamour, 
 John Juxon sat in the back-parlour behind 
 his shop, indifferent to bells and sunshine, 
 inditing the letter that was to show up 
 the Church party, and expose the clerical 
 machinations on foot in the matter of the 
 Pyphos Charity. 
 
117 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 JOHN JUXON SOUNDS THE ALARM. 
 
 It may be conceived that Mrs. Juxons 
 matrimonial path in life had not been too 
 plentifully sprinkled with roses. However 
 gratifying it may be to be the wife of one of 
 the foremost politicians in your native bo- 
 rough, there are drawbacks to that eminence, 
 when looked at from a domestic point of view. 
 Orators are sometimes a little dogmatic in 
 private ; and the interests of one's own busi- 
 ness are apt to suffer when one's best ener- 
 gies are devoted to settling the affairs of the 
 State. 
 
 ''How ever such a pretty gentle little 
 woman as Mary Fleming could bring her- 
 
118 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 self to marry such a queer contradictious 
 person as Mr. Juxon — with good sense, I'll 
 grant you, but no more manners than a 
 bear/' her good little neighbour, Miss 
 Crewels, could never understand. But, 
 then, Jane Crewels had always held and 
 maintained that nothing in this world was 
 so inscrutable as those mysterious affinities 
 and attractions which led people to fall in 
 love with one another and get married. 
 
 And it had been a genuine case of " fall- 
 ing in love," as Miss Crewels knew for a 
 fact. For what but the magic spells of the 
 blind boy could have induced Mary Fleming 
 — with five hundred pounds of her own, 
 to say nothing of linen and silver, all thread - 
 pattern, and without a dent upon it," as Miss 
 Crewels parenthetically remarked) — what 
 else but Love could have induced her to 
 bestow her hand upon Mr. John Juxon? 
 When they married, he was only a journey- 
 
JOHN JUXON SOUNDS THE ALIRM. 119 
 
 man watchmaker, and a comparatively ob- 
 scure person, having come to the town a 
 few years before with all his property in the 
 carpet-bag he carried on his back — a strange 
 young man, with a tinge of mystery about 
 him ! " Truly Love worked miracles, when 
 he found favour in Miss Fleming's eyes," 
 reflected Miss Crewels. 
 
 By the aid of his wife's money, and by his 
 own industry and talent, Mr. Juxon had 
 done well in business ; and it was often said 
 in Market Mudling, that but for his prone- 
 ness to meddle in politics, and awkward 
 temper, John Juxon might have " kept his 
 carriage " years ago. 
 
 There was probably " poetical license " in 
 this phrase ; but, unquestionably, Mr. J uxon's 
 earnings had been large at one time, though 
 they had not gone on increasing. At the 
 time when George Mason became his 
 assistant, some three years ago, the business 
 
120 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 was at a very low ebb. Since then it had 
 revived ; and no one knew better than Mr. 
 Juxon that it was mainly owing to the 
 talent and good manners of his assistant 
 that this revival had come about, though, of 
 course, he would not have owned so much 
 on any account. 
 
 But Mrs. Juxon was perfectly aware of 
 it ; and when she discovered, a few weeks 
 ago, that Mason was in love with her 
 daughter^ she was by no means ill-pleased. 
 
 A steadier, more deserving young man 
 was not to be found in the town," said she 
 to her old friend Miss Crewels. 
 
 Nor a handsomer, to my mind !" re- 
 plied Miss Crewels, with enthusiasm ; and she 
 warmly congratulated the mother, and drew 
 a charming picture of a partnership between 
 Mr. Juxon and his son-in-law, with the joint 
 names in gold letters over the shop-front. 
 
 But Mrs. Juxon did not take quite so san- 
 
JOHN JUXOX SOUNDS THE ALARM. 121 
 
 guine a view. She was by no means sure 
 how her husband would regard the matter. 
 "He's odd, you know, Jane, and I'm doubt- 
 ful whether he'll take to it at first/' said Mrs. 
 Juxon, shaking her head. And Mrs. Juxon 
 had gone on doubting and shaking her head 
 up to the present time, and had never found 
 courage to tell her husband of the engage- 
 ment. Mason wanted to do so on the outset, 
 but Mrs. Juxon had begged him to wait 
 awhile. " He'll take it better from me, I 
 think," said the poor woman, in a voice that 
 betrayed her fears^ " and I am only waiting 
 for a nice opportunity." But the opportu- 
 nity had never presented itself ; and Mrs. 
 Juxon's secret lay heavy on her conscience, 
 and was wearing out her life. 
 
 On the Monday morning the Market 
 Mudling Sentinel made its appearance, 
 with Mr. Juxon's letter to the editor, signed 
 ''Judex" — (what name more appropriate for 
 
122 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 a writer of such a calm judicial cast of 
 mind !) — in a prominent place and fair tj^e. 
 It was a bold letter, and sounded the first 
 note of an alarm that was meant to rouse up 
 the public from its apathy. 
 
 It contained the usual " Now, sir, I wish 
 to know," and Again I ask," of indignant 
 newspaper correspondents^ and was of the 
 average virulence of such compositions. It 
 was intended as a protest against the abor- 
 tive meeting of the charity trustees, but was 
 in reality an attack on the clergy in general, 
 and Mr. Massingthorpe in particular. More 
 than one acute reader recognised the tren- 
 chant style of the radical watchmaker of 
 Church Lane, and of course everyone read it 
 with the gusto with which folks do read 
 newspaper attacks on their fellow-townsmen. 
 By ten o'clock it had made its way to every 
 subscriber's hands, and by noon it had got 
 the ear of the whole town. 
 
JOHN JUXOX SOUNDS THE ALARM. 123 
 
 Church Lane was quite in a flutter about 
 it. Miss Crewels ran across with the news- 
 paper to Mr. Dipp, as early as nine o'clock, 
 with two stray curl-papers still adorning her 
 head ; Mr. Dipp carried it over to Mr. 
 Hackett, the butcher, and discussed it with 
 him over the chopping-block ; and old Mrs. 
 Coffey, who kept the eating-house and bun- 
 shop at the corner, read it half-a-dozen times, 
 and could " make neither head nor tail of it," 
 as she said. Some cute folks sniggered, and 
 cast dark glances at the watchmaker's shop ; 
 feeling that, if their suspicions were correct, 
 John Juxon was a remarkable man, and the 
 Lane " ought to be proud of him. 
 Miss Crewels was so ''behindhand" this 
 morning, as she said, that when a pony- 
 phseton drew up at her door the shop- 
 window was not dressed," nor the for- 
 gotten curl-papers removed. Well might 
 the little woman smuggle the copy of The 
 
124 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 Sentinel under the counter with such precipi- 
 tation ! The early customer was no other 
 than Mrs. Massingthorpe. 
 
 " She must have seen it in my hands. 
 How hurtful to her feelings !" thought Miss 
 Crewels, with confusion. 
 
 But Mrs. Massingthorpe was as ignorant 
 of the contents of the newspaper as the flies 
 in the shop-window. The Sentinel still lay 
 unopened on the hall-table at home, and the 
 good lady as yet knew nothing of the dread- 
 ful bomb that had been fired at the Vicarage 
 from Church Lane. 
 
 Now, Miss Crewels, I have a little secret 
 for you," began the Vicar's wife, ''and I 
 want a little of your advice." 
 
 " Good heavens ! she is going to tell me 
 that her husband intends to bring an action 
 for libel!" reasoned Miss Crewels, quite 
 trembUng with agitation ; and she replied, 
 solemnly : " Mrs. Massingthorpe, you may 
 
JOHN JUXON SOUNDS THE ALARM. 125 
 
 rely on my not breathing a word about it to 
 a soul !" 
 
 Wait till you know my secret, my good 
 little woman, for it will be a sore tempta- 
 1;iion/' replied Mrs. Massingthorpe, smiling 
 at this solemnity ; and the Vicar's wife pro- 
 ceeded to inform her hearer that her eldest 
 daughter's marriage-day was fixed for the 
 30th of the month, and that in consequence 
 of the wedding taking place earlier than was 
 expected (as she was going out to India with 
 her husband), there was difficulty about the 
 bridal preparation. 
 
 "Now I want to know, Miss Crewels, 
 whether you have got the rest of the lace 
 mended I sent you ; and, secondly, whether 
 the young person who has done it and the 
 embroidered handkerchiefs so beautifully, 
 will come and give a helping hand at the 
 Vicarage for a few days 
 
 Was anything ever more embarrassing for 
 
126 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 an obliging, peace-loving little woman like 
 Miss Crewels ? " The young person' was 
 Miss Juxon, for whom Miss Crewels had 
 often privately obtained needlework. But 
 how, in the present juncture, could she be 
 admitted at the Vicarage ? 
 
 Miss Crewels hesitated and stammered, 
 and finally said : I fear it can't be done, 
 ma'am. Though a most respectable family, 
 the Juxons are not — not exactly of the same 
 way of thinking as ourselves, you know, 
 ma'am ; and though it would ill become me 
 to say a word against a neighbour, still Mr. 
 Juxon has views on — on — sacred subjects 
 
 that " 
 
 My good creature !" interrupted Mrs. Mas- 
 singthorpe, " you surely don't mean to say 
 that Miss Juxon would refuse me a little 
 neighbourly assistance because her father, 
 poor man ! is not a churchgoer ? Come, come 
 — I know we are not too liberal at Market 
 
JOHN JUXON SOUNDS THE ALARM. 127 
 
 Mudling, but I don't think we're so bad as 
 that and Mrs. Massingthorpe announced her 
 intention of going over the way, to call upon 
 Miss Juxon herself. I shall use your name 
 as my introduction^ and make the lace-mend- 
 ing my excuse," said the old lady, as she 
 trotted off, leaving Miss Crewels in a state 
 of consternation. 
 
 It was a fortunate circumstance that Mr. 
 Juxon had just gone over to " The George " 
 for his ^'eleven-o'clock glass of beer," and so 
 his wife was able to receive her visitor in the 
 parlour without fear of interruption. Mrs. 
 Juxon was much embarrassed and a little 
 frightened at the sight of her visitor — not 
 that she knew anything ^bout Judex's" 
 letter, but she fancied the vicar's wife must 
 regard her as a renegade from the faith ; for 
 the Flemings had always been good orthodox 
 church-folks, and it had been a great trouble 
 to her when her husband (now long ago) 
 
128 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 had refused to allow her to set foot in the 
 parish church. As a concession to weak 
 minds, Mr. Juxon allowed his wife and 
 daughter to attend the Baptist Chapel — not 
 from any preference for the doctrines taught 
 there, but from his political sympathy with 
 Dissenters. 
 
 But good Mrs. Massingthorpe was not the 
 sort of person to inspire much awe, and her 
 pleasant manner soon put Mrs. Juxon at her 
 ease. More than that, Minnie Juxon was 
 so charmed with the old lady, that when she 
 heard she could do her a favour, she rashly 
 consented. But Mrs. Juxon looked uneasy 
 when she heard what the favour was, and 
 thought it better that the work should be 
 done at home. 
 
 ''As you like about that, Mrs. Juxon. 
 Of course I am aware that your daughter 
 does not make a practice of going out as a 
 needlewoman. She is much too pretty-man- 
 
JOHN- JUXON SOUNDS THE ALARM. 129 
 
 nered and nicely-educated. I know all 
 about her from Mrs. Dover. You're a great 
 favourite of hers, my dear," said the old 
 lady, patting Minnie's cheek ; " and I didn't 
 know until to-day that her little friend and 
 my clever lace-mender were one and the 
 same person." 
 
 Minnie blushed prettily at these praises, 
 and asked Mrs. Massingthorpe if she would 
 like to take home the rest of the lace. " I 
 put it here, between the leaves of one of the 
 big books, to press and straighten, and be 
 out of harm's way. It is fine as a cobweb." 
 
 ''Ah, they don't make such nowadays, 
 Miss Juxon," said Mrs. Massingthorpe, as 
 Minnie unlocked her father's bookcase. 
 " That lace has been worn in three genera- 
 tions of my family for bridal trimmings, 
 and I wish my daughter to wear it on her 
 wedding-day. May I take it in the book, 
 just as it is ? It won't bear much fingering.' ' 
 
 VOL. II. K 
 
130 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 The lace had been placed in a musty calf- 
 bound volume, which Minnie had chosen as 
 the heaviest and biggest in the bookcase. 
 ' Paley's Natural Theology ' was the title 
 on the back. It had not been opened for 
 years until the other day; and so Minnie, 
 feeling sure that her father, particular as 
 he was about his books, would neither want 
 nor miss it, handed it to Mrs. Massingthorpe, 
 who departed with her treasure safe in its 
 leaves. 
 
 But little did Minnie Juxon know that 
 that musty brown volume was to prove a 
 veritable Book of Fate. Little did she sus- 
 pect the terrible mistake she was making. 
 Her father would have sooner parted with 
 all the stock in his shop than let that volume 
 go out of his house for a single hour ! 
 
131 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A VOLUME OF PALEY. 
 
 It was not until the day's duties were over 
 and dinner ended that Mr. Massingthorpe 
 opened the copy of the Sentinel which 
 contained so pleasant a surprise for him. 
 The ladies had retired to the drawing-room, 
 and the vicar, sipping his port-wine, had 
 promised himself a quiet doze over the local 
 news-sheet, when his eye fell on the startling 
 letter of " Judex." 
 
 " Who could this irate correspondent be, 
 who thus took him and his brethren to 
 task?" wondered Mr. Massingthorpe, nettled 
 at the writer's tone. " Judex ! Who wrote 
 under that modest signature? Somebody 
 
132 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 probably whose name began with a J/' and 
 he began to think over his parishioners' 
 names. 
 
 It couldn't be Jewson, the chemist, for 
 he was a staunch churchman. It wasn't 
 Jarver, the schoolmaster, for his style, though 
 less forcible, would have been more tinctured 
 with grammar. ISTor was it likely to be Jor- 
 bury, the solicitor, for he was clerk to the 
 charity trustees." The Vicar turned it over 
 until the servant summoned him to tea, 
 when he entered the drawing-room with his 
 benevolent forehead puckered into a frown. 
 Mrs. Massingthorpe was at that moment re- 
 lating to her daughters her successful visit 
 of the morning, and the words on her lips 
 were : 
 
 And her name is Juxon, my dears, and 
 a very well-behaved young woman she is." 
 
 '^Sluxon!" reflected the vicar; "why, of 
 course, that's the man. John Juxon, the 
 
A VOLUME OF PALEY. 133 
 
 radical watchmaker, of Church Lane ; how 
 came I never to think of him before ?" 
 
 Mr. Massingthorpe was so much startled 
 at the discovery that he paid less attention 
 to the discussion on his daughter's wedding- 
 dress than perhaps the subject merited. But 
 he would not spoil the ladies' pleasure by 
 drawing their attention to the disagreeable 
 letter in the Sentinel^ though it occupied his 
 thoughts all the evening. 
 
 Now the vicar of Market Mudling had 
 lived on peaceable terms with his neighbours 
 for years past, and had made a point of 
 never mixing himself up with local politics 
 or public matters of any sort when he could 
 avoid it. He was not a very active-minded 
 man — did not shepherd up his sheep with 
 the zeal of some pastors, whose crook is 
 always catching at the legs of straying mem- 
 bers of the flock. He preached sermons 
 neither remarkable for eloquence nor logic 
 
134 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 (detractors like John Juxon openly sneered 
 at them^ in fact), but he set his parishioners 
 an example of gentleness and charity, had 
 always a courteous word for his neighbours, 
 and was ever ready to head a subscription 
 list to the full extent of his means. 
 
 Mere moralities, these !" sighed Mrs. 
 Garway, the wife of the incumbent of St. 
 Mary's, with a shake of her head ; but at any 
 rate qualities that make a clergyman liked, 
 and not unbecoming in any man. 
 
 So Mr. Massingthorpe was vexed at this 
 newspaper controversy, which he certainly 
 had not provoked, and he resolved to write 
 a strong letter to the editor that same night, 
 after his family had retired. But when the 
 letter was written, and the vicar had taken 
 up a book to calm himself before going to 
 bed (for the matter had put him out), he did 
 not feel quite satisfied with what he had 
 done. There were reasons^ known only to 
 
A VOLUME OF PALEY. 135 
 
 himself, why he would rather have had a 
 contest with any man in the town sooner 
 than with Mr. Juxon. 
 
 " Silence will be the wiser part/' said the 
 old gentleman, as he tore up the letter." 
 " My character will stand the attacks of a 
 newspaper correspondent, I think \' and he 
 felt quite relieved when he had seen the last 
 spark die out of the burnt paper on the 
 hearth. 
 
 He took up his book again and set him- 
 self to read. He had taken the first volume 
 that came to hand, which chanced to be the 
 brown old Paley that his wife had left there 
 on the table. There was nothing in the 
 volume itself to arrest Mr. Massingthorpe's 
 attention — its contents were familiar enough 
 to him, of course ; but he had not held it 
 five minutes before be became deeply ab- 
 sorbed in it. Certain marginal notes in 
 pencil had riveted his attention. He turned 
 
136 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 to the flyleaf. There was no owner's name, 
 for the top of the page had been cut off; but 
 below in writings familiar enough to him, 
 were the words Trin. Coll., Camb. 1804/' 
 with a caricature of a learned professor 
 spouting Grreek. 
 
 ''Extraordinary!" murmured Mr. Massing- 
 thorpe. I could swear to Frank Carring- 
 ton's writing. How did the book get here?" 
 
 Then he recalled the story of the lace, to 
 which he had paid so little heed, and his 
 wife's visit to Church Lane. He leaned 
 back in his chair — with a whole train of 
 long-past events passing through his mind. 
 One by one he recalled them all, until the 
 appearance of the book on his own table 
 gradually explained itself. 
 
 " Strange, that it should fall into my 
 hands to-night," pondered the Vicar, gravely. 
 ''If I wanted confirmation of that sad his- 
 tory, I should find it here." 
 
A VOLUME OF PALEY. 137 
 
 And as his eye caught sight again of the 
 burnt letter on the hearth, Mr. Massing- 
 thorpe felt more relieved than ever that he 
 had destroyed it. 
 
138 
 
 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 JUDEX VERSUS FAIRPLAY. 
 
 It is quite certain that the warmest of 
 Mr. Juxon's admirers did not believe more 
 thoroughly in his integrity than he believed 
 in it himself. " Honest John Juxon" was 
 the name he had won for himself in the 
 borough ; and it was a name he was proud 
 of, and to which he was not without title. 
 On several occasions he had given proofs of 
 an independence and disinterestedness in his 
 public conduct by no means common in 
 Market Mudling, where political virtue was 
 certainly its own reward, having no market 
 value to speak of. And yet, the unwilling 
 
JUDEX VEKSUS FAIRPLAY. 139 
 
 historian is compelled to admit that this 
 frank outspoken man carried a secret in his 
 bosom which he would not have revealed for 
 the wealth of the empire — a secret which 
 not even his wife remotely suspected, and 
 which his fellow-townsmen would have re- 
 fused to believe, if proclaimed at the town 
 cross by the public crier. What is, perhaps, 
 more remarkable, is that Mr. Juxon himself 
 almost discredited his own secret nowadays ; 
 at least it had ceased to trouble him, or even 
 recur to him, except at rare intervals. In 
 the course of a long life men outlive even 
 their bitterest recollections, grow almost 
 into other men, and can look with a curious 
 dispassionateness and unconcern on frailties 
 of half-a-century ago. And if, as in John 
 Juxon's case, a complete disruption has 
 occurred between that far-off past and the 
 present, it requires an effort of imagination 
 IS well as of memory to reconstruct a time 
 
140 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 which, save in rare moments, is as though 
 it had never been. 
 
 Now, though the borough of Market 
 Mudling enjoyed its local squabbles and 
 scandals as much as any town in the king- 
 dom, the question at issue amongst the 
 trustees of the Pyphos Charity would hardly 
 have furnished matter for any lengthy news- 
 paper controversy, but for a new person's 
 interference. Having made up his mind to 
 take no notice of the irascible " Judex," Mr. 
 Massingthorpe expected there would be an 
 end of the affair, in print at least. But not 
 so. A few days after, there appeared in the 
 Market Mudliiig Guardian (the opposition 
 and Conservative newspaper) a letter in de- 
 fence of the vicar. Some zealous friend of 
 the Church had resolved to break a lance in 
 the cause of Orthodoxy, and administer a 
 castigation to the merciless " Judex." This 
 well-meaning individual, who wrote a very 
 
JUDEX VERSUS FAIRPLAY. 141 
 
 tolerable letter, signed himself 'Tairplay;" 
 but his actual cognomen was a mystery to 
 all. Mr. Massingthorpe felt much obliged 
 to his defender, but heartily wished the gen- 
 tleman had not felt himself called upon to 
 play the part of champion. This sort of 
 notoriety was just what Mr. Massingthorpe 
 most disliked. However, he trusted the 
 matter would go no further. After this 
 sharp rap from " Fairplay," Mr. Juxon would 
 probably be disinclined for a continuance of 
 hostilities, and mind his own business. 
 
 Not he, forsooth! Mr. Massingthorpe 
 little knew his man if he thought he was to 
 be thus silenced. John Juxon prided him- 
 self on being one of the few who care more 
 for truth than for trade, for principle than 
 for pocket. In a matter of conscience (and 
 of course this was such) Mr. Juxon would 
 fight to the last. What though his private 
 interests suffered if the public welfare 
 
142 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 gained ? Girding on his armour again, 
 John Juxon descended into the arena valiant 
 as ever, and came out with a thundering 
 letter in the next issue of the Sentinel, which 
 excited immense sensation in the borough. 
 " Fairplay" answered back with undaunted 
 mien, and the t wo'champions, now thoroughly 
 roused, did battle in the newspaper columns 
 for the next two or three weeks. 
 
 When Mrs. Juxon discovered what took 
 her husband so much from home just now 
 (for he was constantly in consultation with 
 Barnes and other political friends), she shed 
 tears in Miss Crewels's back-parlour, and said 
 she was indeed an unhappy woman. 
 
 It will be the ruin of the business, I 
 know," she sighed, now John has taken to 
 newspaper writing again. Last General 
 Election was as good as fifty pounds out of 
 our pockets ; for you know what party feel- 
 ing there always is in the town ; and I can 
 
JUDEX VERSUS F AIRPLAY. 143 
 
 assure you, Miss Crewels^ that the pinks 
 would not bring even a watch to regulate or 
 a brooch to repair for months and months 
 after, though you know as well as me that 
 the work can't be equalled elsewhere. I 
 wish that nasty fellow, ' Fairplay/ had kept 
 his mouth shut, I'm sure ; John can't bear 
 contradiction/' 
 
 But you see, it was Mr. Juxon began 
 it," said Miss Crewels, who could not allow 
 the defender of the Church to be ill-spoken 
 of, and who, indeed, greatly admired " Fair- 
 play's" letters. 
 
 " What a curious thing it is," went on the 
 little shopkeeper, "nobody knows who he 
 is — ' Fairplay,' I mean ! I taxed Mr. Bruce 
 with it this morning, but he said, ' Pray 
 don't spread any such report, Miss Crewels,' 
 and seemed almost vexed, though really the 
 letters are so beautifully worded, they quite 
 remind me of his sermons." 
 
144 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 But the subject could not be other than 
 painful to her listener, so Miss Crewels turned 
 the conversation by inquiring how matters 
 were going on between the lovers. At this 
 inquiry Mrs. Juxon's face grew more doleful 
 that before. 
 
 " There's something wrong between them. 
 I can't make Mason out. He's not been at 
 all himself the last few days." 
 
 " Not words, I hope ?" asked Miss Crewels, 
 in a sympathetic tone. 
 
 ''No," replied her friend, '' and I wouldn't 
 Ake to say coldness; but Mason has some- 
 thing on his mind, I'm sure ;" and Mrs. Juxon 
 proceeded to state that there was a tacitur- 
 nity and gloominess about young Mason 
 which she could not at all understand. 
 
 Some one else had noticed tlie moody 
 preoccupied air of George Mason the last 
 few days ; and tliis some one was now sit- 
 ting listening to the apprentice putting up 
 
JUDEX VERSUS FAIRPLAY. 145 
 
 the shop-shutters, as she plied her needle 
 by the parlour-window in a state of anxious 
 expectation. Minnie Juxon hummed a cheer- 
 ful air to herself, though her heart was 
 heavy within her. For two days past 
 George Mason had hardly spoken to her, 
 and had worn such a grave and anxious face 
 that she longed to ask him what was amiss. 
 '•'Will he look into the parlour to-night?" 
 she wondered. She hummed more gaily than 
 before, but the tears almost choked her sing- 
 ing as she heard him lock up the shop, put 
 on his coat, and bid the apprentice " Good 
 night." " He was going away again without 
 a word. What had come to him ?" 
 
 But when the apprentice had departed, 
 there was a little pause, and then came a 
 tap at the parlour-door, and Mason entered. 
 
 " I want to have a few words with you, 
 Minnie," said he. ''I am glad you are 
 alone;" and he added, uneasily, "Im afraid 
 
 VOL. II. L 
 
146 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 you don't at all suspect what I'm going to 
 tell you?" 
 
 ''No/' said Minnie, surprised and almost 
 alarmed at his serious air. 
 
 It's an awkvirard business/' began Mason, 
 with embarrassment, "and, of course, I'm 
 annoyed about it ; but still I don't see that 
 I'm to blame. You know of your father's 
 letters to the Sentinel, I suppose?" 
 
 " Yes ; but you can no more prevent them 
 than I can, Greorge," said Minnie. 
 
 " I couldn't prevent him writing in the 
 first place ; but I might have put a stop to 
 the correspondence all the same." 
 " How could you have done that?" 
 By not answering him/' said the young 
 man, slowly, averting his eyes as he spoke. 
 Not answering him ? Oh, George, you 
 
 don't — you don't mean to say that ?" 
 
 That I'm ' Fairplay' ? " he added, for she 
 had turned so pale and' looked so frightened 
 
JUDEX VERSUS FAIRPLAY. 147 
 
 that she seemed unable to finish. Yes, I 
 do. I am the writer of the letters that have 
 given your father such ofience, and I think 
 you ought to know it." 
 
 There was silence for some moments ; 
 and then Minnie said, warmly : 
 
 " You have acted unfairly, George, and 
 deceitfully, and I shall never " 
 
 "Think as well of me again, I suppose?" 
 put in Mason. Why, jou don't suppose 
 that I knew who ' Judex' was when I first 
 replied to him ? You don't suppose I'm 
 such a sneak as to take your father's money 
 every week, and then sit down and write 
 him anonymous letters in the papers? I 
 only knew three days ago who it was I was 
 replying to, and you may fancy I've not felt 
 very comfortable since." 
 
 Mason spoke impatiently — almost ag- 
 grievedly, and Minnie replied : 
 
 ''I hardly know what I thought just 
 
148 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 now, I am so unhappy at what you have 
 told me. But I didn't mean to hurt your 
 feelings ; and if I was too hasty, I'm sorry 
 for it. But oh, George, what will father say 
 when he finds it out ?" 
 
 Minnie had laid down her work ' and 
 looked so utterly wretched, that Mason felt 
 strongly tempted to go up to her and kiss 
 her on the spot. But it behoved him to 
 be circumspect in this delicate position of 
 matters. 
 
 Your father will be very angry, and will 
 perhaps dismiss me," said the young man, 
 sorrowfully. "Ah, Minnie, your mother 
 meant us well, but it was a mistake our 
 not telling him of our engagement at first. 
 I don't see how it can be done now." 
 
 ''Oh, no !" said Minnie, shaking her head. 
 Father is so hasty, and he is so bitter 
 against ' Fairplay,' that I think he would 
 like to " 
 
JUDEX VERSUS FAIRPLAY. 149 
 
 But she didn't say what her father 
 •would like to do to his opponent. She 
 added : 
 
 But can't something be done in the 
 papers, or some way, to make matters up 
 with him ?" 
 
 George Mason shook his head and frowned. 
 " You wouldn't have me eat my own words ?" 
 said he. " I have gone further than I 
 meant in the matter; but I've not said a 
 single thing I'm ashamed of. If I'd known 
 * Judex ' was your father, I shouldn't have 
 written at all, as I tell you ; but because he 
 is your father, you wouldn't have me with- 
 draw what I wrote honestly and in good 
 faith, would you ?" 
 
 Oh, George, don't speak like that !" said 
 Minnie with an unsteady voice. 
 
 "You seem to forget, Minnie/' said he, 
 approaching nearer to her, but speaking in 
 the same aggrieved way, that my position 
 
150 
 
 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 is a very hard one. You must remember 
 that a man has his own convictions, and- 
 shouldn't be afraid to speak them out." 
 
 He had drawn so near her now, that his 
 hand was on the back of her chair. 
 
 If you still think 1 did wrong though, 
 I can't help it," he went on, noticing how 
 silently she sat, and feeling vexed at it. 
 
 There are times when it's a man's duty to 
 speak his mind, and I felt it to be mine 
 when I saw Mr. Massingthorpe unjustly 
 attacked. But if what I have done is to 
 make a difference between you and me, 
 why, we — we had better in future — that is, 
 
 1 mean " 
 
 George Mason hardly knew what he 
 meant, and stopped short, looking flushed 
 and miserable. But Minnie could play this 
 game as well as he. 
 
 "Just as you please about the future," 
 said she, in an altered voice, and she took up 
 
JUDEX VERSUS FAIRPLAY.J 151 
 
 her needle and stitched away as well as her 
 trembling fingers would let her. 
 
 They had never been so near a quarrel in 
 their lives. Mason retreated a step, and 
 with folded arms leaned back against the 
 wall, and looked down on his sweetheart 
 with knitted brows. But the face he gazed 
 at was too sad and too sweet a face to pro- 
 voke to wrath. 
 
 " Minnie," said he, more gently, " have you 
 made up your mind, then, not to forgive me ?" 
 
 " I — I never said so, Greorge !" 
 
 " But you are terribly displeased,"' said he. 
 I can't help feeling unhappy, and — and 
 you took me up so sharply ;" and then such 
 a pitiful little tear trickled down Minnie 
 Juxon's cheek that George Mason could 
 bear it no longer, and stooping over her 
 chair — but the rest of the episode may be 
 divined. It was all made up again. 
 
 Now, George Mason ought to have taken 
 
152 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 his departure at this point, as he intended ; 
 but it was so pleasant to linger by Minnie's 
 side, and the renewal of love was so sweet 
 after the little quarrel that had preceded it, 
 that when the clocks in the shop began to 
 strike nine, one after another, Mason still 
 stood there by Minnie's chair ; and they were 
 chatting away so happily that they never 
 heard the private door of the house open, 
 nor knew that Mr. Juxon had unexpectedly 
 returned home. He had left his spectacles 
 behind him, and his voice, calling for his 
 daughter to ran and look for them, made 
 them both start. 
 
 " You're lively here to-night/' said the 
 watchmaker, opening the parlom^-door. 
 ^'May I ask the joke?" 
 
 He was the last man to suspect the true 
 state of things. Like other domestic tyrants^ 
 he fancied he had the same control over 
 people's inner as over their outward lives; 
 
JUDEX VERSUS FAIRPLAY. 153 
 
 and the idea of his daughter presuming to 
 fall in love without his permission had never 
 entered his head. Mason had so often 
 worked over-hours of late, that he was not 
 surprised to find him there with the keys of 
 the shop in his hand ; and he began to talk 
 to his assistant about the business with un- 
 usual affability. 
 
 You know, Mason^ I couldn't give up my 
 time to public matters as I do, if I hadn't 
 confidence in you," said he, with a good- 
 humoured air; "but I expect I shall have more 
 time for my own business directly. I've got 
 something here that I think will about de- 
 molish the gentleman I have in hand." Mr. 
 Juxon gave a dry chuckle, and held up 
 a letter to Mason's view. I suppose you 
 know (for it's no secret in the town now) 
 who ' Judex ' is — eh ? Of course you've 
 read the correspondence between him and 
 ' Fairplay ' ?" 
 
154 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 Mason made some scarcely audible reply. 
 He had turned crimson, but tbe twilight 
 hid his embarrassment. 
 
 I've got something here that will take 
 the conceit out of Mr. ' Fairplay,' I fancy. 
 Dummy, you know, set up by the Church 
 party. Shouldn't wonder but old Massing- 
 thorpe writes the letters himself; but I'll 
 expose them — I'll expose them !" and Mr. 
 Juxon chuckled again. 
 
 Now, one minute before, Mason had made 
 up his mind that he would tell Mr. Juxon 
 then and there of his engagement to his 
 daughter. He felt there was something 
 dishonourable in this concealment, and it 
 vexed him that he and Minnie should have 
 to act in this guilty way, and hide feelings 
 of which they had no reason to be ashamed. 
 But his temper was roused by this speech, 
 and he replied, incautiously : 
 
 "^Fairplay' has a mind of his own, like 
 
JUDEX VERSUS F AIRPLAY. 155 
 
 other folks, I suppose. Mr. Massingthorpe 
 has something else to do than write letters 
 to the papers, I expect." 
 
 Mr. Juxon looked surprised at this warmth 
 of tone. 
 
 " Ah," said he, I needn't discuss the 
 matter with you. You always defend the 
 parsons through thick and thin, and are 
 blind — stone-blind — on some points. You're 
 a good judge. Mason, of the works of a 
 watch, but no judge of the actions and 
 motives of men." 
 
 " I don't set up to be ; but Mr. Massing- 
 thorpe was a good friend to my mother when 
 she was left a widow, and I hope I shall 
 always stand up for him. Whether ^Fair- 
 play ' is a fool or not is a question that " 
 
 But Mason stopped ; Minnie had just re- 
 turned with the spectacles, and the revela- 
 tion that would have escaped him the next 
 moment died away on his lips. 
 
156 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 Go on, sir — you're getting eloquent," 
 said Mr. Juxon^ with sarcasm in his voice. 
 
 " No, sir, I'm taking up your time," said 
 Mason, and, swallowing down his wrath, 
 he bade them a hasty " Good night, and 
 vanished. 
 
 "I tell you what it is, that young fellow 
 is getting conceited, and too fond of argu- 
 ment/' said Mr. Juxon to his daughter. 
 
 He is a clever workman, but he mustn't 
 fancy that because I trust him as I do that 
 I couldn't manage my business without him." 
 
 Minnie said not a word, though she had 
 twenty at her tongue's end. But when her 
 father had gone again, the poor girl sat down 
 and burst into a flood of tears, and felt more 
 thoroughly miserable than she had ever done 
 in her life. 
 
157 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 A WRATHFUL MAN. 
 
 George Mason felt his position to be em- 
 barrassing enough. Whether to make a 
 clean breast of it, and avow to Mr. Juxon 
 the authorship of the letters that so irritated 
 him — whether to let the correspondence die 
 out, or whether to continue it boldly without 
 reference to private considerations, were 
 questions that much troubled his peace of 
 mind. It would look like cowardice^ or an 
 admission of wrongdoing, to retire from the 
 contest, and yet by continuing it he was 
 seriously damaging his own prospects. 
 Though a generous warm-hearted fellow, 
 Mason had some of his master's obstinacy of 
 
158 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 character. He had felt piqued, too, at the 
 contemptuous tone in which Mr. Juxon had 
 spoken of " Fairplay," and naturallj^ felt irri- 
 tated at that threat of demolishment. If 
 " Judex's" next letter demanded a reply, as he 
 felt sure it would, Mason resolved that it 
 was his duty to give that reply at all costs. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mr. Massingthorpe still pre- 
 served the silence which he had imposed 
 upon himself, though not without his reti- 
 cence provoking comments in the town. 
 Even his wife was of opinion that her 
 husband carried his forbearance too far. 
 
 There are limits to the tolerance required 
 in a clergyman, my dear," said she, ''and this 
 ' Judex ' wants really putting down for his 
 attacks on the Church of England and its 
 ministers. I call it wicked, and demoral- 
 ising to the town — I do, indeed," and the 
 good old lady's mild eyes sparkled with 
 indignation as she put down the copy of the 
 
A WRATHFUL MAN. 159 
 
 Sentinel she had just been reading at break- 
 fast. 
 
 " I think I'll leave him and Mr. ' Fairplay 
 to fight it out," says the vicar, smiling at 
 his wife's excitement. I have got a zealous 
 champion enough, though he might be a 
 little stronger in his grammar. It's an odd 
 thing I can't find out who ' Fairplay ' is.'' 
 
 Secrets of this sort are hard to keep in 
 provincial towns, and though Mason had 
 done his best to guard the anonymous, it 
 was oozing out here and there that Mr. 
 Juxon's spirited adversary was no other than 
 his own shop-assistant. It can be imagined 
 what wonder and amusement this discovery 
 was calculated to provoke. 
 
 The next few days were very miserable 
 ones for Minnie Juxon. She dare not tell 
 the secret her lover had entrusted to her, 
 even to her mother. She kept as much out 
 of Mason's way as possible, and hardly spoke 
 
160 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 when they met. He was hurt at this ; but 
 she knew that in the present critical state of 
 matters it was the wisest course. She had 
 small sympathy with ''Judex's" views, but she 
 felt it would be unnatural in her as a 
 daughter to show any approval of those of 
 Fairplay." The more George Mason felt hurt 
 at this coldness, the more he resolved that 
 it was his duty not to be tempted by private 
 feelings to lay down his arms, and retire 
 from the cause he had been fighting for. 
 The only satisfaction he could find just now 
 was in giving an amount of attention and 
 assiduity to his master's business that could 
 leave no cause for censure in that quarter. 
 
 But the treacherous peace that reigned in 
 the watchmaker's family was about to be 
 rudely broken ere long. 
 
 It was market-day, and the town was in the 
 usual state of activity produced by the weekly 
 advent of farmers' gigs, carts and waggons, 
 
A WRATHFUL MAN. 161 
 
 and droves of big oxen, which sometimes 
 got astray in Church Lane, and imperilled 
 the shop-windows with their horns, and 
 frightened Miss Crewels almost to death. 
 Everybody was busy, and supposed to be 
 turning over money in the way of trade. 
 But John J uxon was not behind his counter, 
 like more prudent tradesmen. He was 
 gossiping in Mr. Etherley's, the corn and 
 coal dealer's office — a favourite lounge 
 with local politicians, and headquarters of 
 news. 
 
 " Well, Juxon, you're generally 'cute 
 enough. I wonder you never smelt a rat 
 before," says Jennings, the veterinary surgeon, 
 splitting a grain of corn between his teeth. 
 " I tell you he's the man, as sure as you're 
 there." 
 
 " I don't believe it, sir," says Juxon, 
 turning almost fiercely upon the speaker. 
 " A pack of nonsense !" 
 
 VOL. II. M 
 
162 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 Mr. Juxon had just heard something 
 which did seem quite incredible to him. 
 
 " Whether you beheve it or not, it's been 
 talked of pretty generally the last few 
 days," says Mr. Etlierley. " You see what 
 it says in this morning's Guardian — ^It 
 may be well to drop a discussion which has 
 gone further than was originally intended.' 
 That looks as though Mr. 'Fairplay' was be- 
 ginning to draw in his horns, now the thing 
 is getting wind in the town. A shabby 
 get-outj though, I must say." 
 
 Mr. Juxon read the sentences pointed out 
 by Mr. Etherley, and a new light was 
 thrown thereon by what he had just heard. 
 
 Was it possible that ? But the mere 
 
 supposition was too much for Mr. Juxon's 
 patience. 
 
 " Pshaw ! It's out of all reason !" he 
 exclaimed, pushing aside the paper im- 
 patiently. " Mason knows bettqr than to 
 
A WRA.THFUL MAN". 163 
 
 try that game with me. It's more than 
 his berth is worth. Good morning, gentle- 
 men. I leave you to enjoy your joke. I 
 can't stand gossiping here all day ;" and Mr. 
 Juxon turned away so abruptly that his 
 friends looked and laughed significantly at 
 each other. 
 
 Yes, Mr. Juxon had gone ofi* " with a flea 
 in his ear," as Mr. Jennings forcibly but 
 inelegantly expressed it. He was so put 
 out that he made a little detour before 
 entering his own shop, and walked half 
 way down the High-street to calm himself. 
 Just opposite Mr. Ibbotson's premises a 
 neighbour tapped him on the shoulder. It 
 was Mr. Moggs, wdth his neatly-folded 
 umbrella in one hand, and in the other a 
 basket of vegetables he had just been 
 cheapening in the market. 
 
 " Can I have a word with you, Juxon ?" 
 he whispered. It isn't a pleasant matter, 
 
164 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 and I'm the last man to busy myself in my 
 neighbour's concerns ; but I think, as a 
 friend, I ought to put you — put you on 
 your guard, you know." 
 
 Little Mr. Moggs was always deferen- 
 tial, but he was obsequious to Mr. Juxon, 
 having more than once experienced the 
 force of his powers of satire in the club-room 
 and elsewhere. 
 
 AVhat is it, sir r" asked the watchmaker. 
 
 " A private matter, Mr. Juxon — I might 
 say a domestic matter;" and then Mr. 
 Moggs got confused, for he did not know 
 how Mr. Juxon would brook any inter- 
 ference with his domestic concerns, and he 
 went off into mysterious allusions to 
 " snakes in the grass," " serpents at the 
 hearth," &c. 
 
 Mr. Juxon smiled contemptuously. I've 
 no serpents at my hearth, sir," said he. 
 ''What d'ye mean?" 
 
A WRATHFUL MAN. 165 
 
 Let us hope not, Mr. Juxon ; but I 
 think I ought to tell you what I have seen 
 with my own eyes." 
 
 And the retired auctioneer began to relate 
 how, some evenings ago, he had seen George 
 Mason and Miss Juxon walking together, 
 " quite like lovers," and how he was afraid 
 the young man was trying to steal the affec- 
 tions of his master's daughter. Mr. Moggs 
 did not relate how Mrs. Juxon was only a 
 few yards in the rear of them, or how he 
 himself had listened to their conversation, 
 hidden behind his own garden-hedge, but he 
 said enough to have irritated his hearer 
 greatly at any other time. But Mr. Juxon 
 was relieved at this moment to find that it 
 was not a repetition of the other absurd story, 
 and replied : 
 
 ^^Ah! so that's all, is it, Moggs? I'd 
 advise you to keep these tales to yourself. 
 I've confidence enough both in my daughter 
 
1 66 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 and in Mason not to feel uneasy, even if 
 matters were as you say; but that's not 
 very likely, seeing that I'm master in my 
 own house, and know pretty well what goes 
 on there, and without other folks troubling 
 themselves about my affairs, too." 
 
 With which rebuff Mr. Juxon passed on 
 again. 
 
 He was not accustomed to have his family 
 affairs made the subject of neighbours' com- 
 ment; and though he placed no credit in 
 Mr. Moggs's insinuations, he was annoyed 
 that there should have been any possible 
 ground for them, and so resolved to read his 
 daughter a little lecture on the first oppor- 
 tunity. But he had a matter on his mind 
 just now of far greater importance than this 
 silly gossip ; and as he hastened home, he 
 resolved to take prompt action thereon. 
 
 There were customers in the shop when he 
 entered it, so he merely said to his assistant, 
 
A WRATHFUL MAX. 
 
 167 
 
 When you have done there I want to speak 
 to you, Mr. Mason and he strode into the 
 parlour, where his daughter was busy with 
 some of Miss Massingthorpe's marriage gar- 
 ments before her. Mr. Juxon impatiently 
 pushed the finery away, to make a clear space 
 on the table, and pulling out a square packet, 
 tied with string, from his breast-pocket, 
 said, " Leave the room, Minnie. I have 
 business with Mason. Stay," he continued, 
 the next moment ; perhaps you had better 
 remain where you are, I may have a word 
 to say to you presently." 
 
 There was something so ominous in her 
 father's voice that Minnie changed colour 
 instantly. "What is it, father?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " You'll know shortly/' he replied, un- 
 tying the string that confined the packet, 
 and disclosing to view a bundle of news- 
 papers. Then Minnie knew what was 
 
168 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 coming, and her heart turned cold within 
 her. 
 
 By the time Mr. Juxon had picked out 
 the papers he wanted, Mason entered. 
 
 " You wanted me, sir ?" asked the young 
 man, and with so little suspicion of what 
 he was wanted for, that he added, " I 
 mustn't be away more than two minutes 
 for it was a busy hour of the day, and 
 there was only the apprentice in the shop. 
 
 " That depends," said Mr. Juxon, drily. 
 "Please to close that door." 
 
 As he did so, Mason's eye fell on the 
 newspapers. He changed colour imme- 
 diately. But he looked at Minnie the next 
 moment, as much as to bid her take courage, 
 and he advanced a little nearer the table, 
 though with a beating heart. 
 
 " George Mason," said Mr. Juxon, fixing 
 his assistant with his keen gray eyes, " I've 
 known you, man and boy, for fifteen years, 
 
A WRATHFUL MAX. 169 
 
 and I've never known you to tell a lie. I 
 want a straightforward answer to the ques- 
 tion I'm going to put to you. Do you 
 
 know anything ?" Mr. Juxon stopped ; 
 
 the enormity of the offence was such that 
 his voice failed him at the mention of it : 
 " Do you know anything of the writer of 
 that letter in the Guardian V He handed 
 one of the offending epistles to him as he 
 spoke. 
 
 " Yes, sir, I do." 
 
 Mason's voice was unsteady also, but he 
 did not shrink before his master's gaze. 
 
 " Then you mean to say," began Mr. 
 Juxon, slowly, with his eyes riveted on 
 him — ^ ' You — mean — to — say that — you 
 wrote them ?" 
 
 At that moment, even Mr. Juxon could 
 not believe that an affirmative reply would 
 come. 
 
 I did, sir ; but I must explain that 
 
170 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 when I began the correspondence I was 
 not aware 
 
 " Stop !" cried Mr. Jiixon, rising from his 
 seat. " I want no explanations. You're a 
 scoundrel, and you're a liar ! You're a 
 scoundrel for daring to hold up me, your 
 master, to ridicule in a public print ; and 
 you're a liar for keeping this a secret, and 
 coming here every day with fair words in your 
 mouth ! Now you know my opinion of you." 
 
 These were strong words, and almost 
 more than Mason could endure ; but Minnie 
 stood there, white and trembling, and he 
 restrained himself. 
 
 " It's an unjust opinion, Mr. Juxon ; but, 
 as you say you won't listen to my explana- 
 tions, I don't suppose I can change it — for 
 the present, at least. I never intended to 
 give any personal offence to you, but merely 
 tried to defend a cause that I thought was 
 unjustly attacked." 
 
A WRATHFUL MAINT. 171 
 « 
 
 " ' Unjustly attacked !' Then you mean 
 to tell me to my face that I'm a fool, and 
 an unjust fool, do you ?" Mr. Juxon had 
 turned pale in his wrath. 
 
 " Father !" murmured Minnie, laying her 
 hand on his arm ; but he took no notice of 
 her pleading voice. 
 
 " You're a jackass. Mason, that's what 
 you are, and you are not worth my arguing 
 with !" (He forgot, poor man ! he had con- 
 descended to argue with him in print for 
 weeks.) " After what's passed^ I shall 
 expect you, if you want to keep your 
 situation, to apologize — publicly apologize." 
 
 "Apologize !" repeated Mason, aghast and 
 indignant. What for, pray ?" 
 
 " For insulting me, and making me a 
 laughingstock in the town." 
 
 " For having a different opinion to yours, 
 you mean ?" 
 
 " I mean what I say. Do you think I'm 
 
172 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 going to be held up to ridicule by my own 
 shopman ?" 
 
 Ah, there was the sting of it ! — to find 
 the redoubtable adversary he had been ex- 
 pending so much eloquence on was only his 
 own assistant ! He had made up his mind 
 he had been doing battle with the Vicar, or 
 some of his friends ; and now to find it was 
 only George Mason, whom he could have 
 argued with and silenced any day in his own 
 shop ! 
 
 You can't be serious in asking anything 
 so unreasonable, Mr. Juxon ; but if you 
 do mean it, I can only say that I would 
 rather " 
 
 Throw up my situation," he was about 
 to add, when Minnie, who could bear 
 what she was suffering no longer, said, 
 impetuously : 
 
 Father, let me explain. He never knew 
 that you were 'Judex.' He has been miser- 
 
A WRATHFUL MAN. 173 
 
 able ever since he found it out. You are 
 cruel to speak as you have done, and forget 
 how well and faithfully he has served you^ 
 or you would never say such wrong and 
 bitter things !" 
 
 Her cheeks had turned from white to 
 crimson, and she looked so brave and beauti- 
 ful that Mason had never admired her so 
 much in his life. But he dare not show his 
 gratitude by word or look. 
 
 Then you knew of these letters, too ?" 
 said Mr. Juxon, turning round on his 
 daughter. " Pray, how came you to be in 
 his confidence?" And as he looked from 
 one to the other, Mr. Moggs's warning 
 recurred to him. 
 
 They were neither of them ashamed to 
 own their love, but they would have given 
 much to defer explanations at that moment. 
 But the task was not forced upon them. 
 Before either of them could speak, a third 
 
17 t HEARTH GHOSTS, 
 
 person, whose entrance a moment ago no 
 one had noticed, stepped forward, and with 
 a trembling voice said : 
 
 " Oh, John, don't be angry with them ! 
 It's all my fault — it is, indeed. I promised 
 them I would tell you the week they were 
 engaged, and they've never been easy about 
 it since." 
 
 This was poor Mrs. Juxon's way of mend- 
 ing matters ! She had just entered the 
 house from marketing, and hearing high 
 voices in the parlour, had rushed to the fatal 
 conclusion that the news of the engagement 
 had come to her husband's ears. 
 
 ' Engaged !' Humph ! So you mean to 
 tell me, Mrs. Juxon, that you knew of this 
 
 — that you, her mother, have allowed ?" 
 
 But Mr. Juxon stopped, and sat down, with 
 such an altered face that Minnie, all in 
 tears, tried to steal her arm round his neck. 
 But he roughly shook her off. 
 
A WRATHFUL MAl^. 175 
 
 " Is this true he asked, turning fiercely 
 on his daughter. 
 " Yes, father." 
 
 For the first time in his life (for he was 
 a moral man) Mr. Juxon swore a strong 
 oath. 
 
 " Then you're a hypocrite V said he, 
 hoarsely ; " and you, Mason^ are a bigger 
 villain than T thought ! Take off* that 
 apron ; put down my tools " — he pointed 
 to some small implements Mason held in 
 his hand — and fetch me in the cash-box 
 and wages-book. I pay up your salary to 
 the end of the week, and then you will 
 please to walk out of my shop, and never 
 put foot in it again !" 
 
 Mrs. Juxon interposed with tearful re- 
 monstrances. 
 
 ''If he thinks he's wronged, let him sue 
 me in the county court ; not one penny 
 more than his week's wages shall he have 
 
176 HEAETH GHOSTS. 
 
 from me," was the only reply vouchsafed to 
 her. 
 
 Without a word, Mason went and fetched 
 the things as bidden. He knew that great 
 injustice was being done him, but he was 
 not going to sue for pardon. No man had 
 ever worked more faithfully in a master's 
 service than he had done. So he stood with 
 compressed lips, while Mr. Juxon counted 
 out the money due to him, uttering not a 
 word. 
 
 " There !" said his master, shoving the 
 money across the table. We know each 
 other now, and I tell you, to your face, that 
 with all your pretended piety and high 
 principle, you're a humbug, if ever there 
 was one !" 
 
 Mason turned white as death. It cost 
 him an immense effort to subdue his in- 
 dignation ; but, with as steady a voice as 
 he could asssume, he said : 
 
A WRATHFUL MAN. 177 
 
 " When you come to think this over, 
 you'll know you've said too much, Mr. 
 Juxon. I'm sorry to part like this, and 
 I'm sorrier still that you should learn in 
 this way of — of my attachment to your 
 daughter. It has been a mistake to make 
 any secret of it, though it was done from 
 good motives. But I blame myself more 
 than Mij one else.'' And as he spoke, 
 Mason turned quickly away and left the 
 room. 
 
 " Oh, John ! what will you do without 
 him ? It's market-day, and nobody but 
 the apprentice to keep shop !" sobbed Mrs. 
 Juxon, piteously. Let me run after 
 him, and ask him to stay till night — pray 
 do!" 
 
 " Stay where you are, ma'am. I've 
 managed my own business before now, and 
 I can manage it still, I hope." 
 
 And the watchmaker doffed his walking- 
 
 VOL. II. N 
 
178 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 coat, put on his apron, and strode resolutely 
 into the shop. 
 
 But there was not much business done 
 over Mr. Juxon s counter that day. 
 
179 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE MEETING AT THE TOWN-HALL. 
 
 The double discovery that Mr. Juxon had 
 made was certainly trying for a man of his 
 temperament. He might perhaps in time 
 have overlooked his daughter's audacity in 
 accepting a lover without his permission 
 (especially as the lover would make such an 
 eligible son-in-law as Mason), but to pardon 
 that presumptuous young man for his 
 conduct in the matter of the newspaper 
 controversy was more than Mr. Juxon could 
 bring his mind to. He had been made to 
 look ridiculous before his fellow-townsmen, 
 and though he was accustomed to seeing 
 other men look ridiculous, John Juxon was 
 
180 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 not used to, and could not tolerate, ridicule 
 himself. 
 
 Of course the news of George Mason's 
 dismissal and its cause soon got abroad in 
 the town, and it quickly reached the Vicar- 
 age. Miss Crewels conveyed the intelli- 
 gence there (along with a parcel of new 
 patterns from London), and told the story 
 to Mrs. Massingthorpe and her daughters, 
 with such improvements as her sympathy 
 and imagination suggested. 
 
 "I have it all from dear Mrs. Juxon 
 herself," said the little shopkeeper, with her 
 most confidential air ; and therefore I 
 know it to be true, ma'am. Never did I 
 behold such distressful faces ! They do say, 
 in the Lane, that Mr. Juxon's rage was 
 such that his voice was heard several doors 
 off when he turned young Mason out of the 
 house. Whether he'll ever speak to his 
 wife and daughter again I very much doubt. 
 
THE MEETING AT THE TOWN-HALL. 181 
 
 Oh, dear, what a sad thing temper is, to be 
 sure, when it gets the mastery of us ! And 
 what the poor young people will do — so 
 attached as they are too, Miss Cecilia, and 
 such a suitable match in every respect, if 
 Mr. Juxon could but see it — is more than I 
 can say." 
 
 "I am really very sorry to hear of this,'' 
 said Mrs. Massingthorpe, looking quite un- 
 easy. And I'm sure my husband will be 
 much troubled when he finds that young 
 Mason has lost his situation through taking 
 up his defence. Between ourselves. Miss 
 Crewels, it was not a very discreet thing, 
 perhaps, nor quite called for, to my mind ; 
 but it was meant well, I've no doubt." 
 
 Mrs. Massingthorpe was not altogether 
 pleased at the quarter from which the 
 defence had come ; but she was vexed that 
 any ill should have happened to its author, 
 and was quite right in supposing that her 
 
182 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 husband would be troubled when he knew 
 of it. 
 
 Mr. Juxon must not try me too far/' 
 murmured the old gentleman to himself, 
 as he sat alone in his library that evening. 
 " He little knows what a whip I hold 
 over him !" and opening his writing-table 
 drawer, the Vicar took out the volume of 
 Paley, and turned over the pages with a 
 thoughtful air. " The man has read it, 
 and with intelligence," he murmured, as 
 he scanned the pencil-notes. He was 
 thirsting for knowledge at that time, it is 
 clear and Mr. Massingthorpe returned the 
 book to the drawer, and carefully locked 
 it up again. 
 
 . Meanwhile Mr. Juxon was going on his 
 way, utterly unconscious of whips or other 
 instruments of fate suspended over him. 
 He had gained one thing at least. He had 
 so far stirred up the public interest in the 
 
THE MEETING AT THE l^OWN-HALL. 183 
 
 matter of the new schools at Wild's End, 
 that a public meeting was about to be held 
 at the Town Hall, to give the inhabitants 
 of the borough an opportunity of expressing 
 their opinion on the management of the 
 charity. At that meeting Mr. Juxon re- 
 solved he would speak out his mind. In 
 the club-room at " The Greorge " he boldly 
 asserted that he believed Mason was, after 
 all, only a tool in the hands of the parsons, 
 and that they had borrowed his name to cover 
 their own nefarious schemes ; for, of course, 
 it would not do to let his character for 
 sagacity and penetration suffer by an admis- 
 sion that he had been " taken in" to the 
 extent generally believed. 
 
 Now, the night before the meeting at the 
 Town Hall, George Mason sat alone in his 
 lodgings, with a sombre face, writing a letter 
 to Minnie Juxon, which he intended as a 
 farewell to her. Around him were strewed 
 
184 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 his books and clothes and other belongmgs, 
 which he was about to pack up ready for 
 his departure from the town on the morrow. 
 The tears forced themselves into his eyes 
 more than once as he wrote ; but he had 
 spent many hours in debating on his future 
 course, and his mind was now made up. 
 
 " I have only the satisfaction of knowing . 
 that you won't let the ill things that will 
 be said about me change your heart towards 
 me," he was writing. " I saw in your face 
 that day how you felt for me, and I shall 
 never forget how bravely you stood up for 
 me before your father. His anger against 
 me will, perhaps, calm down in time ; 
 but I couldn't bear more of it. I'm warm- 
 tempered myself, I know, and I should be 
 tempted to answer back, and say what 
 might displease him further and separate 
 us for ever. But don't think, my darling, 
 that I can ever alter " 
 
THE MEETING AT THE TOWN-HALL. 185 
 
 Thus far had Mason written when there 
 was a knock at the door, and his landlady, 
 with an excited air, ushered into the room, 
 with many apologies for its untidiness, a 
 grey-headed old gentleman with a very 
 benign face. It was no other than Mr. 
 Massingthorpe. The Vicar had come to 
 thank Mason for his spirited advocacy of 
 himself and friends, and to express his 
 regret at the consequences he had thereby 
 brought upon himself. Mason's face 
 brightened under the friendly speeches 
 addressed to him ; but he looked grave 
 when Mr. Massingthorpe talked of a re- 
 conciliation between himself and his late 
 master. 
 
 don't think you quite know Mr. 
 Juxon, sir," said he. 
 
 I think I measure him as correctly as 
 most people," replied the Vicar. ^^At all 
 events, Mr. Mason, one good turn deserves 
 
186 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 another \ and as I fear I have been indi- 
 rectly the cause of your losing your situa- 
 tion, I shall not rest till I see you restored 
 to it^ or have found you another." 
 
 " You are very kind, sir/' said the young 
 man, " but — but — I have made up my mind 
 to go to London. I have friends there who 
 may help me to find work, and I think I've 
 poor prospects here;" for Greorge Mason took 
 a very gloomy view of things just now. 
 
 In any case," added the Vicar, after a 
 little further talk, " I must beg you not to be 
 precipitate, but to wait a little longer before 
 taking the steps you speak of. Mr. Juxon 
 may come round after a time, and all this 
 blow over." 
 
 I am afraid, sir, you're too hopeful," 
 said Mason, as his visitor rose to depart ; 
 
 but I'm grateful to you — very grateful — 
 for interesting yourself about me." 
 
 Mr. Juxon certainly did not look like 
 
THE MEETING AT THE TOWN-HALL. 187 
 
 coming round the next evening, when, 
 buttoned up in his brown surtout, with 
 his Sunday hat pressed firmly on his head, 
 and his walking-stick grasped vigorously in 
 his hand, he quitted his house for the Town 
 Hall. His wife and daughter beheld him 
 set out with anxious misgivings. He had 
 scarcely spoken to them for the last few 
 days, but had comported himself like the 
 injured man he believed himself to be. 
 
 " I wish to goodness there were no such 
 things as meetings or newspapers sighed 
 Mrs. Juxon. " We did very well without 
 them when I was a girl, and there was only 
 one newspaper in all the county. They 
 may talk of their progress and education 
 as they like, but I know we've more 
 quarrels and unpleasantness in the town 
 nowadays than ever we used to have, and 
 I don't see that we are any of us a bit wiser 
 or better than we used to be." 
 
188 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 Happily, Mr. Juxon was not within hear- 
 ing of these atrocious sentiments. He was 
 inarching down to the Town Hall, where, on 
 his arrival, he found Mr. Burley, the Mayor, 
 already in the chair, and the business of the 
 meeting in progress. The chairman was ex- 
 plaining the unhappy diversity of opinion 
 that existed amongst the trustees with 
 regard to the management of the new 
 schools, and the dissatisfaction that had been 
 caused in the town thereby (which dissatis- 
 faction had led to the present meeting) ; and 
 Mr. Burley called upon any of the gentle- 
 men present who had any advice to offer, or 
 suggestions to make, to do so forthwith, 
 that the views of the public might be 
 known. 
 
 Whereupon several gentlemen rose and 
 offered a variety of suggestions, backed by a 
 wide range of argument. Mr. Ajax Smith 
 asserted that the only sound system of 
 
THE MEETING AT THE TOWN-HALL. 189 
 
 education was that condemned by " the 
 radical clique," as he styled Mr, Juxon and 
 his party. Mr. Barnes made sarcastic reply, 
 intended to demolish Mr. Smith and his 
 position, but which did not cause him to 
 wink an eyelid. Mr. Marfleet came forward 
 with his old airy theories about the " Teach- 
 ings of Nature," the Love of the Beauti- 
 ful/' and such panaceas for the ills of a fallen 
 humanity ; and Mr. Gregson took his stand 
 on Scripture-reading and the theology of 
 Whitfield. 
 
 Mr. Massingthorpe, who had said nothing 
 as yet, sat listening with an air of placid 
 attention to the various speakers. But 
 Mr. Bruce, his curate, now rose to make 
 some comments on certain observations that 
 had fallen from Mr. Barnes, which he (Mr. 
 Bruce) considered disrespectful towards the 
 Vicar, and a challenge to all churchmen 
 present. 
 
190 HEAKTH GHOSTS. 
 
 It was when Mr. Bruce had sat down 
 (with a sustaining conviction that he had 
 given as much as he had got), that Mr. 
 Juxon rose to address the meeting. As he 
 did so, expectation evidently awoke, and a 
 murmur ran through the Hall akin to the 
 sensation prononqee that marks the rising 
 of great orators in more famous assemblies. 
 Mr. Juxon himself seemed aware that much 
 was expected of him, and his voice had not 
 its usual firmness when he began ; but the 
 hesitation passed, and it was soon the dog- 
 matic voice and manner familiar to the 
 club-room. 
 
 He began by defending Mr. Barnes's 
 observations, and then with tolerable modera- 
 tion proceeded to state his own views. Of 
 course Mr. Juxon had a perfect right to hold 
 those views, and to maintain them publicly 
 by argument ; but, unfortunately, he went 
 further than that. He would not, or could 
 
THE MEETING AT THE TOWN-HALL. 191 
 
 not, see that people who held contrary 
 opinions were anything else but knaves or 
 fools. He insinuated that there was an 
 attempt being made by Mr. Massingthorpe 
 and his friends to get the management of 
 the schools into their own hands for secta- 
 rian purposes — that the intentions of the 
 Foundress were being defeated ; in short , 
 lugged in his old grievances — clerical domi- 
 nation, a State Church, &c._, and grew more 
 violent with every word he uttered. 
 
 Now, of course Mr. Massingthorpe could 
 not sit still under this. So when the 
 speaker had done, he rose, and with mild 
 dignity, but with considerable firmness, 
 rebuked the angry orator : 
 
 " It is a pity that Mr. Juxon does not 
 give us credit for the same honesty of in- 
 tention which I am quite ready to attribute 
 to him," said the Vicar. He might 
 despair of our intelligence, but he should 
 
192 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 not think so meanly of our integrity. I 
 cannot own to feeling myself the intriguer 
 he makes me out to be and he went on to 
 advise Mr. Juxon to show a little more 
 charity in his judgments in future. We 
 all need it, Mr. Juxon^ in our estimates of 
 our neighbours — I in judging you — you in 
 judging me. The most honourable man 
 amongst us has faults that will not bear too 
 close a scrutiny, and there are some of us, 
 sir, whose past lives would not bear such 
 scrutiny at all." 
 
 The last words were spoken with such 
 point that everyone noticed it ; and more 
 than one person present thought the remark 
 in very bad taste. If for a moment those 
 words caused a pang in John Juxon's heart 
 — made an old wound throb again, the 
 emotion was quickly stilled. He was not 
 going to be put down thus with a lecture on 
 charity ! — to be preached to by Mr. Massing- 
 
THE MEETING AT THE TOWN-HALL. 193 
 
 thorpe ! He had come there to expose a 
 cabal" — to defeat an attempt to interfere 
 with the religious liberty of the community" 
 (let us hope he believed his high-sounding 
 phrases) ; and so, like many a doomed man 
 before and since, he rushed on to his destruc- 
 tion, and would not be stayed by the hand 
 that sought to hold him back. 
 
 Fired with his own wrongs, Mr. Juxon 
 accused his opponents of having tampered 
 with his assistant, Mason — of having cor- 
 rupted his sense of honour, and led him on 
 to attack him (his master) in a public print, 
 while he was receiving his money ever}^ 
 week, and trusted with his fullest confidence. 
 "Is that charity, gentlemen?" he asked; 
 " is that your Christian teaching?" 
 
 There were cries of " Order !" in the room. 
 But the chairman seemed paralysed. Amidst 
 the conflict of opinion going on around him, 
 Mr. Burley had got so confused that he was 
 
 VOL. II. 0 
 
194 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 in a more dubious state of mind tlian usual, 
 and so Mr. Juxon held forth without inter- 
 ruption for some minutes, to the scandal 
 of some persons, and to the undisguised 
 delight of others. At length, as the orator 
 paused momentarily for breath, Mr. Massing- 
 thorpe, who sat opposite to him and was 
 watching him with close attention, drew 
 forth his watch and held it up before the 
 eyes of the chairman — an unmistakable 
 hint that the speaker was trespassing too far 
 on the patience of his hearers ; and, as if 
 to confirm the same, Mr. Massingthorpe 
 whispered : 
 
 " Pass my watch to him, Mr. Mayor. He 
 can't be aware how time is getting on and 
 he pushed the watch, with its old-fashioned 
 ribbon and seals, across the table. 
 
 " Do you see the hour, sir?" asked the 
 Mayor, in alow tone. 
 
 " I won't try your patience much further," 
 
THE MEETING AT THE TOWN-HALL. 195 
 
 replied Juxon, but if liberty of discussion 
 is " 
 
 He suddenly stopped, with his eyes fixed 
 on the watch, and took it up. 
 
 " I can answer for its correctness. I have 
 had it. Mr. Juxon, ever since I was an under- 
 graduate at Cambridge." 
 
 As Mr. Massingthorpe uttered the words, 
 John Juxon changed countenance, and laid 
 down the watch as though it had stung him. 
 Mumbling out a few disconnected words, he 
 sat down again with his eyes still riveted on 
 the watch, and a face out of which colour 
 and life had suddenly fled. 
 
 Some persons thought he was ill, and the 
 idea of paralysis passed through more than 
 one mind ; others supposed he was only en- 
 grossed in profound thought, as he sat look- 
 ing down at the table. He took no further 
 part in the discussion ; but sat with a 
 stunned air, and scarcely spoke throughout 
 
196 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 the rest of the meeting. He was amongst 
 the first to leasee the Hall. 
 
 Eefasing the arm offered him by Mr. 
 Barnes, he passed quickly down the steps, 
 and made his way home through the streets, 
 with a heart on fire and limbs that trembled 
 under him. 
 
197 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 THE RAISING OF A LONG-LAID GHOST. 
 
 What was there in Mr. Massingthorpe's 
 old-fashioned watch, that it should exercise 
 SO powerful an effect on Mr. Juxon ? It was 
 a curious handsomely-chased one, but Mr. 
 Juxon had seen scores of curious old watches 
 in his time. And yet the sight of this 
 special watch had set his heart beating with 
 a horrible fear. He was half inclined to 
 mock himself as he walked along home, with 
 the fresh night-air cooling his hot head, and 
 to ridicule his own suspicions, and yet he knew 
 he was not mistaken. He would have known 
 that watch again anywhere, and at any dis- 
 tance of time. He stopped in the street to 
 
198 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 breathe and calm himself, as a flood of 
 miserable recollections rushed over him. 
 
 When he entered his own doors, he was so 
 haggard that his wife started at the sight of 
 him. He murmured something about the 
 " heat of the Hall being too much for him," 
 and sat down in his armchair and wiped the 
 drops from his forehead. His presence at 
 home at this hour was so unusual that his 
 wife and daughter would have known that 
 something was greatly amiss, even without 
 the evidence of his altered face. Minnie 
 longed to ask her father what had transpired 
 at the meeting ; but he looked so anxious 
 and unlike himself that she dare not utter a 
 word. 
 
 He was recalling, as he sat there, Mr. 
 Massingthorpe's words and looks, and he was 
 trying to reason himself into a belief that 
 they had no special meaning addressed to 
 him ; but in vain ! As he sat there think- 
 
THE RAISING OF A LONG-LAID GHOST. 199 
 
 ing, his eye wandered to the bookcase, and 
 at once missed a familiar object. He got up 
 hastily and began to search the shelves. 
 
 " Who's taken the book away ?" he in- 
 quired hurriedly, turning round on the 
 affrighted women. 
 
 " What book, father asked Minnie. 
 
 " ' Paley's Natural Theology.' Where's it 
 gone ?" He spoke in the same sharp voice. 
 
 " I used it to press some lace in/' she 
 stammered ; " and — and " 
 
 ''What do you look at me like that for?" 
 cried her father. What do you know about 
 the book ? Where is it, I say ?" 
 
 Before the growing excitement of her 
 father's manner, and his agitated looks, 
 Minnie could hardly reply. 
 
 " I let Mrs. Massingthorpe take it to the 
 Vicarage," she murmured ; " but I didn't 
 know that " 
 
 " Let it go to the Vicarage /" repeated her 
 
200 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 father. " Good God ! then you have ruined 
 me ! 
 
 He looked wildly at his daughter for a 
 moment ; but the next he had subdued him- 
 self, though his face was blanched with 
 sudden fear. 
 
 "Oh, father — father ! what have I done 
 cried the girl, as he stood looking at her 
 thus. 
 
 " Nothing — nothing that can be helped 
 now." He spoke in a slow thick voice, and 
 returned to his seat. " I'm a fool to talk 
 like this ; but when a man's foes are 
 those of his own household " — he stopped 
 and looked at them both, with piercing, 
 questioning eyes ; but there was not a trace 
 of guilt, only dismay, sheer dismay, written 
 on their faces — and he added, slowly, I 
 think the heat j^onder has upset me. I'm 
 not well, and — I'd like to be left alone. 
 Leave me." 
 
THE RAISING OF A LONG-LAID GHOST. 201 
 
 Far on into the night Mr. Juxon sat 
 there alone with his thoughts — alone with 
 that long-buried ghost which had risen up 
 once more to haunt his hearth, and drive 
 from it all peace and security. The sad 
 story that he sat there recalling, may be told 
 in these words : — 
 
 Many years ago, John Juxon had served 
 his apprenticeship to a watchmaker in Cam- 
 bridge. He was a clever skilful lad, and 
 possessing that strong love of knowledge 
 which had distinguished him all his life. 
 But Juxon was poor, and could ill afford to 
 buy books, and many a time he had denied 
 himself a dinner to purchase some volume 
 he coveted; "for a man," he used to say 
 even then, "had better starve his stomach 
 than his brains." An old book-dealer, of 
 whom he often made purchases, consented 
 to supply him on credit, and Juxon under- 
 took to pay him by instalments out of his 
 
202 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 wages. But the young man had over- 
 estimated his financial resources, and one 
 day found that he owed the bookseller 
 several pounds, and that his creditor was be- 
 ginning to grumble. It happened about 
 this time that he was sent one morning 
 with some jewellery for inspection to the 
 rooms of an undergraduate, who had a 
 taste in that way. The gentleman was out, 
 and whilst he sat awaiting his return, Juxon 
 ventured to take up a book to beguile the 
 time. He was so engrossed with it when 
 its owner returned, that he was first made 
 aware of his presence by a roar of laughter 
 from a group of young men behind him. 
 
 Well, this is a good 'un cried Frank 
 Carrington, a young gentleman with more 
 money than brains. " If here isn't the 
 watchmaker reading ' Paley/ by Jove ! And 
 he's stumbled on ' the watch lying on the 
 heath,' too — the old original machine that 
 
THE RAISING OF A LONG-LAID GHOST. 203 
 
 proves all the ' contrivance and design/ 
 Ha, ha ! Isn't it stunning !" 
 
 John Juxon reddened to his hair-roots as 
 he put down the book. He had not much 
 love for these young aristocrats at any time 
 (for he had political antipathies even thus 
 early), but he felt to hate the speaker at that 
 moment, and had hard work to keep civil. 
 
 " Do you follow the argument, sir asked 
 the witty youth, with a wink at his com- 
 panions. 
 
 " I think so," said Juxon, quietly. 
 
 "Ah, you are a reading man, I see.. 
 What a pity we can't pay some of you fellows 
 to do it all for us — to get up the ' Paley ' 
 and the mathematics, and all the rest !" and 
 Mr. Carrington went off with further witti- 
 cisms at the young tradesman's expense, vow- 
 ing that " paid substitutes would be a good 
 spec, in Cambridge." 
 
 A few days later John Juxon was again 
 
204 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 waiting in the same room, on the same 
 errand. " And all these treasures belong to 
 that fool, who never looks into them !" 
 thought he within himself, as he gazed at 
 Mr. Carrington's bookshelves. He looked 
 enviously at the ' Paley.' " There wouldn't 
 be much harm in taking that book home to 
 finish. Hell never miss it." The idea, 
 once conceived, soon found its justification 
 in a mmd like Juxon's. He resolved " to 
 borrow the book unasked for the act only 
 represented itself as such to him, and so he 
 took the book, saying to himself : " I'll show 
 these young gentlemen, next time I'm 
 chafied by them, that I've read and under- 
 stand these things as well as themselves." 
 The scholarly tastes of the ^ young watch- 
 maker got him known amongst Mr. Carring- 
 ton's set ; it became a joke with them to 
 "draw out the learned tradesman," and 
 argue with him on politics, or theology. 
 
THE RAISING OF A LONG-LAID GHOST. 205 
 
 whenever they visited his master's shop. It 
 was in these days possibly that Juxon im- 
 bibed his strong hatred of the clergy and his 
 ultra-radical views. He felt himself, in 
 natural gifts, the equal or superior of these 
 idle young men, and he resolved by reading 
 and study to make up for those advantages 
 of education which fortune had denied him. 
 But for this books were indispensable ; and, 
 unhappily, the bookseller was every day 
 becoming more importunate. He threatened 
 to sue Juxon, and at length wrote to tell 
 him that unless his bill was paid within 
 twenty-four hours he should let his master 
 know that he was contracting debts in 
 the town which he was unable to discharge. 
 In a rash moment the terrified apprentice 
 resolved to take some article out of the shop 
 and pawn it, intending to redeem it when he 
 received his next wages. The article he 
 selected was a watch that had been brought 
 
206 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 to repair several weeks ago by a careless 
 undergraduate, who had left his property 
 there so long that Juxon thought it was 
 forgotten, or at least that it would lie there 
 in the shop-drawer throughout the coming 
 vacation. But, as fate willed it, the next 
 day the owner of the watch called for his 
 property. Juxon was not in the shop at the 
 time, but when he entered it, and found his 
 master making inquiries for the missing 
 watch, a panic seized him. He packed up his 
 clothes and a few books, (amongst them the 
 * Paley,' which he was afraid to leave behind) 
 and fled from the town that same night, to 
 avoid the disgrace and detection he saw im- 
 pending. He never reappeared there again ; 
 but three days later his master received from 
 him a letter containing a full explanation of 
 the matter, together with the pawnbroker's 
 ticket, and as much money towards redeeming 
 the watch as he had been able to raise by 
 
THE RAISmG OF A LONG-LAID GHOST. 207 
 
 the sale of his scanty wardrobe. He 
 expressed his shame and contrition in very 
 penitent terms, and stated that he was firmly 
 resolved that this bitter lesson should make 
 him an honest man for the rest of his days. 
 And this resolution John Juxon had faith- 
 fully kept; for whatever his neighbours 
 might think about his political or religious 
 views, there were not two opinions in the 
 town as to his strict integrity. 
 
 Now, it was not until this very night that 
 Mr. Juxon had ever known that the owner 
 of that watch was the present Vicar of 
 Market Mudling. 
 
 The anxiety and agitation that such a 
 discovery must necessarily produce, need not 
 be dwelt upon. 
 
 His secret — ^his long-buried secret — was in 
 the possession of the man whom he had been 
 opposing foi: weeks, and whom he had 
 publicly defied only a few hours ago. 
 
208 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 It was a terrible moment for John Juxon 
 when he saw in the behaviour of Mr. Mas- 
 singthorpe that night an incontestable proof, 
 not only that he knew his secret, but that 
 he was prepared to use it against him. 
 
 This, then, was why he had kept silent so 
 long — he was preparing to put him to open 
 shame before all the town in the end. To 
 his warped clerical mind (reasoned Mr. Juxon) 
 the discovery he had made would represent 
 itself as a means furnished by Providence for 
 the overthrow of a foe of the Church. His 
 heart turned sick within him, when he 
 thought of that long-past sin of his youth 
 rising up against him now in his old age, 
 when he had won back the character he had 
 forfeited. He ground his teeth when he 
 reflected that it had come about through his 
 daughter's folly in giving up that book to 
 Mr. Massingthorpe, and he cursed the in- 
 justice of fate, which was bringing on him 
 
THE RAISING OF A LONG-LAID GHOST. 209 
 
 a retribution so out of proportion to his 
 misdeed. 
 
 The clocks and timepieces in the shop 
 chimed away hour after hour, and the big 
 church-bell tolled out the time sonorously to 
 the passing night, and still Mr. Juxon sat 
 there by his hearth, thinking. At length, 
 as the daylight was beginning to dawn over 
 Church Lane and strike cold rays upon tne 
 high tower that overlooked it, he crept 
 upstairs to bed with a face so wan that 
 his oldest friend would hardly have known 
 him. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 p 
 
210 
 
 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 SUSPENSE, 
 
 /For two successive nights Mr. Juxon had 
 been absent from his accustomed seat in 
 the club-room ; and the explanation given 
 — namely, that he had got overheated, and 
 taken a chill at the Town Hall — was cer- 
 tainly borne out by his altered appear- 
 ance. His wife and daughter were shocked 
 at the change in him ; his anxious ner- 
 vous air alarmed them more than any 
 amount of irritability would have done. 
 His hands shook over his work ; he cast 
 uneasy, questioning glances at every one 
 who entered the shop ; and he would sit 
 with his eyes fixed on vacancy, and his 
 
SUSPENSE. 211 
 
 tools idle, in a way that betrayed his pre- 
 occupation of mind. 
 
 Of course Mr. Juxon knew quite well 
 that it would be impossible at this distance 
 of time to substantiate any charge of theft 
 against him. He was in no fear of Mr. Mas- 
 singthorpe getting up a criminal prosecution ; 
 but he did fear the loss of character that 
 would follow on the story of his delinquencies 
 getting known in the town. That Mr. 
 Massingthorpe intended to divulge it, he 
 never for one moment doubted. It was 
 clear, from his manner and words the other 
 night, that he wished Mr. Juxon to under- 
 stand that he held him in his power ; and 
 the only question in Mr. Juxon's mind was, 
 " How would he make the story known ?" 
 Would Mr. Massingthorpe let it ooze out 
 gradually in friendly ears ? Would he 
 destroy his enemy's character by insinua- 
 tion and ridicule (insinuation he could not 
 
212 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 repel, ridicule he could not fling back) con- 
 veyed through the newspaper columns ? Or 
 would he boldly tell the story in public, and 
 call on him to deny it if false ? Whichever 
 of these courses he might take, Mr. Juxon 
 knew that his good name would be gone 
 for ever, and that never again should he be 
 able to hold up his head in Market Mudling. 
 
 The suspense the next few days was 
 almost greater than Mr. Juxon could bear. 
 He was afraid to face his fellow-townsmen 
 for fear of betraying himself — afraid, too, 
 lest he should read in their countenances 
 that they knew his secret, and regarded 
 him with the contempt due to an impostor. 
 He sat over his work all day, and only 
 ventured out towards evening to breathe 
 the air, when he could pass through the 
 streets unnoticed by the eyes of curious 
 neighbours. 
 
 The third evening of this seclusion he 
 
SUSPENSE. 213 
 
 had wandered out some distance from tlie 
 town, to cool the fever in his blood in the 
 evening air. The sun had set, and the 
 mists were rising over the fields, when he 
 sat down to rest on a stile by the roadside. 
 As he sat there he recalled how, forty years 
 ago, he had traversed that same road, 
 dusty and footsore, with his knapsack on 
 his back, when he came to Market Mudlinii: 
 an unknown and friendless young man. He 
 remembered how he had sat there on that 
 very stile, and sworn within himself to live 
 down his shame, and win an honest name 
 once more. 
 
 " And had he not done so ?" he asked him- 
 self, bitterly. Ay, there was the injustice 
 of it ! Other men's misdeeds did not rise 
 up against them thus. Other men, who 
 had sinned far more deeply, were never 
 detected or made to suffer'^; whilst he, who 
 had atoned for that one false step by a life 
 
214 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 of strictest integrity, was to be brought to 
 shame in his old age !" 
 
 No wonder the peaceful evening could not 
 soothe him in this mood. " If his name 
 were disgraced, as it would be, and his 
 enemies allowed to triumph over him, as 
 they purposed, why then the world was 
 built on injustice ; and knaves, fools, and 
 hypocrites had the advantage over honest 
 men ! 
 
 Thus ran Mr. Juxon's thoughts, as he 
 rested on the stile ; and he was so absorbed 
 by them that he did not notice the figure 
 drawing near in the field behind him. The 
 figure advanced with downcast head, strik- 
 ing off* the tall nettle-flowers idly with his 
 stick, and did not see Mr. Juxon until he 
 had got close to the stile. Then George 
 Mason (for it was he), returning from a 
 country walk, gave a start, and seemed 
 inclined to retreat. 
 
SUSPENSE. 215 
 
 But as Mr. Juxon suddenly turned round, 
 and the light in the western sky fell on his 
 haggard face, Mason was so shocked that 
 he hesitated a moment, and then advanced 
 with outstretched hand. 
 
 " It's not gone too far, sir, for us to shake 
 hands again, has it ? I'd like to part friends, 
 before I leave this town." 
 
 He spoke under sudden impulse, touched 
 by that look of misery he had surprised on 
 Mr. Juxon's face. But he could see the 
 scowl that gathered there instantly. 
 
 " I want no fair professions. I like open 
 enemies better than false friends, and you 
 were false to me," Mr. Juxon took no notice 
 of his outstretched hand. 
 
 " Very well ; keep up your enmity then, 
 if you like," said Mason, indignant that his 
 advance should meet with no better 
 response. 
 
 Yes, sir, keep it up !" cried Mr. Juxon, 
 
216 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 as he moved off tlie stile over which Mason 
 sprang Hghtly. Keep it up, till Mr. 
 Massingthorpe and his godly friends have 
 triumphed over and crushed me, for that 
 is the game you're all engaged in/' 
 
 Mason passed on without replying to 
 the words hurled after him. He was 
 amazed and shocked at this last outburst, 
 which proved to him how implacable was 
 the man s nature, and ho^w utterly vain was 
 that hope of reconciliation which Mr. Mas- 
 singthorpe had tried to encourage. Before 
 he had reached the town, he had resolved 
 to waste no more time in delay, but to 
 start for London ere the week was out. 
 
217 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 MR. MASSINGTHORPE UNMASKED. 
 
 Mr. Juxon sat there on the stile leading 
 through the fields to Whitlingham, until 
 the moon rose above the trees, and the clock 
 of the village church behind him struck 
 nine. He was consumed with anger at that 
 thought which he had just expressed in such 
 bitter words. "Yes, they would triumph 
 over and crush him now. The next issue of 
 the Guardian would proclaim his disgrace 
 to the town, and his neighbours would find 
 that he, John Juxon, the honest, the incor- 
 ruptible (as it had pleased men to term him), 
 was a sham greater than any he had ever 
 exposed in his life." 
 
218 HEAKTH GHOSTS. 
 
 The unhappy man groaned aloud, and 
 rising up, paced to and fro in the grass. 
 
 " Probably at this very moment they were 
 concocting the article that was to ruin him. 
 A little while hence, and the whole town 
 would ring with the news. Grood God ! was 
 it not possible to avert this shame?" 
 
 He stopped, and his face in the moonlight 
 worked with a sudden spasm. 
 
 " There was one way, perhaps, of averting 
 it — a way^ though, bitter as death. Suppose 
 he threw himself on their mercy ? — went 
 straight to Mr. Massingthorpe, and begged 
 for his forbearance ? 'No ! the words would 
 strangle him ere he could get them uttered. 
 And yet, if — if his only hope lay in an 
 appeal to his generosity — the generosity of 
 the man he had taunted and opposed for 
 weeks ?" 
 
 It was a terrible moment for John Juxon 
 when he put this question to himself. His 
 
MR. MASSINGTHORPE UNMASKED. 219 
 
 breath came quickly ; for an instant he 
 looked round on the moonht fields with a 
 wild look. " Would not the bottom of that 
 pool yonder, that glistened in the moon's 
 rays, be preferable to such humiliation ?" 
 But the next moment he cast away the 
 cowardly thought. There was no other 
 chance left him but this, and he must even 
 try it, desperate as it was. He started off 
 at once on his way back to the town, before 
 his resolution should be shaken. 
 
 When he got back into the streets, the 
 moon was shining so brightly that he was 
 afraid of being recognised. He chose the 
 darker side of the way, and hastened on, 
 with his hat pulled over his eyes. It was a 
 trial to cross the Market Place, where the 
 moonlight fell freely — a greater trial still to 
 cross the churchyard and approach the 
 vicarage. He stood for a moment under 
 the church-tower, half inclined to turn back. 
 
220 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 If any neighbour's eye should see him ! But 
 no eyes save those of the grinning gurgoyles 
 overhead were watching him. The church- 
 clock struck out ten loud strokes as he stood 
 there, hesitating and struggling with him- 
 self. Their loud metallic clang seemed to 
 bruise and hurt his hot throbbing brain. 
 There was no time to be lost^ if he would 
 see Mr. Massingthorpe to-night. With a 
 desperate effort he moved on again, and 
 knocked at the vicarage door. 
 
 "He could not see Mr. Massingthorpe 
 to-night/' said the servant. ''It was too 
 late." 
 
 " But my business is pressing, and if you 
 tell him my name he'll see me," replied Mr. 
 Juxon ; and in another minute he was shown 
 into the library. 
 
 Mr. Massingthorpe was seated at his wri- 
 ting-table, with a shaded lamp before him, 
 touching up an old sermon for next Sunday. 
 
MR. MASSIXGTHORPE UNMASKED. 221 
 
 Though he showed no surprise at seeing 
 Mr. Juxon there, he was startled by his 
 face ; it looked almost livid in the lamplight. 
 He stood with his hat in one hand, his stick 
 in the other — not heeding, or even hearing, 
 Mr. Massingthorpe's request that he would 
 take a seat. 
 
 "I think you know what's brought me 
 
 here to-night, Mr. Massingthorpe ?" he 
 
 began, in a voice which sounded strange and 
 unnatural, even to his own ears. 
 
 " I think I have some idea, Mr. Juxon," 
 replied Mr. Massingthorpe, laying aside his 
 pen, and again requesting his visitor to take 
 a seat. 
 
 Mr. Juxon still took no heed of the 
 request. 
 
 " Yes, sir," he continued, in the same ab- 
 sorbed way. " This matter can't rest here. 
 I— I feel that." 
 
 He stopped, looking hard at Mr. Mas- 
 
222 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 singthorpe, but the latter gave him no help 
 nor sign of understanding. It was not that 
 he was cruelly indifferent to the man's suf- 
 ferings ; but as yet he was uncertain, from 
 Mr. Juxon's demeanour, in what spirit or 
 with what purpose he had come. Certainly 
 he had no suppliant's mien, as he stood 
 there with that dogged air. But, neverthe- 
 less, the heart within him was failing him 
 fast. 
 
 ''I mean, sir, what happened between you 
 and me at the meeting at the Town Hall 
 can't rest here," he went on, with obvious 
 effort. Of course, Mr. Massingthorpe, you 
 — you had a meaning in addressing me the 
 other night as you did ?" 
 
 He suddenly checked himself. Suppose 
 he was wrong after all ! Suppose Mr, Mas- 
 singthorpe was ignorant of his history ! That 
 calm air almost favoured the supposition. 
 Mr. Juxon, I had a meaning," returned 
 
MR. MASSINGTHORPE UNMASKED. 223 
 
 the vicar, looking steadily at the speaker. 
 " I am not sorry if it was apparent to you. 
 I intended it to be so.'' 
 
 " Yes, yes, I saw that/' said the wretched 
 man, hurriedly, feeling the crisis was now 
 come. I am in your power, and — and I 
 must be prepared for the consequences of the 
 enmity I have provoked." 
 
 He had intended to say something far 
 diflferent — something conciliatory; but the 
 natural man spoke out thus, under the ex- 
 citement of the moment. 
 
 ''You mean, I suppose, Mr. Juxon, that 
 you must be prepared to have me disclose to 
 your neighbours a certain secret you have 
 tried hard to conceal from the world 
 this many a long year?" said the vicar, 
 slowly. 
 
 '' You'll make what use of it you please, 
 I expect," was the reply, uttered in a low 
 dogged voice. 
 
224 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 " That is what you infer from your pre- 
 vious knowledge of me ?" 
 
 Mr. Juxon nodded his head. 
 
 " Weil, sir, then may I ask with what 
 object you have come here to-nigKt?" de- 
 manded Mr. Massingthorpe, sternly. 
 
 Ah ! it was a hard task to state that ob- 
 ject. And the question was put in such a 
 direct form that no evasive reply would avail 
 now. Mr. Juxon's face twitched, with an 
 actual physical pang, as he slowly made 
 answer : 
 
 " Mr. Massingthorpe, I've come here to 
 
 ask you to to use your knowledge of that 
 
 secret mercifully. I don't know" how you 
 came to find it out, except through that 
 book which my daughter put into your 
 
 wife's hands ; but but, as it's clear you 
 
 do know it, and as you may ruin me by 
 making it public, I ask you " 
 
 He stopped, and throwing all further dis- 
 
MR. MASSINGTHORPE UNMASKED. 225 
 
 guises to the winds, advanced to the table, 
 and laying a trembling hand upon it, 
 said, in a voice full of natural emotion : 
 " Mr. Massingthorpe, be merciful ! I'm a 
 grey-headed man, like yourself. I'm a proud 
 man, too, and I've humbled my pride to- 
 night to come here and ask you not to use 
 this against me. You don't know all. I 
 pawned that watch you wear in a moment of 
 fear, intending to redeem it. But I'm no 
 thief ; I never wronged a man of a penny 
 in my life. I suffered agonies for that one 
 act of dishonesty, and sooner than it should 
 be known in this town, and bring me to 
 shame, I'm ready to go down on my 
 
 knees if " 
 
 ^' Hush, hush ! Mr. Juxon." Mr. Massing- 
 thorpe rose, as though to stay the threatened 
 action, looking almost as agitated as his 
 visitor. " Grod forbid I should seek that of 
 
 VOL, II. Q 
 
226 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 you ! Nor do I know why you should think 
 it of me." 
 
 " Think it, sir ? A priest is but a man ; I 
 know human nature, and to pay off an old 
 score is " 
 
 " Is human — at least priestly nature, is it, 
 Mr. Juxon ? You should know me, I think, 
 better than this. God knows, though, where 
 the fault most lies I" 
 
 Mr. Massingthorpe as he spoke was re- 
 calling his long years of ministry in Market 
 Mudling, and asking himself how far this 
 ignorance was due to his own easy indolent 
 nature, and that fear of exciting adverse 
 criticism which had so often in his life kept 
 him silent when it was his duty to speak 
 out. He resumed : 
 
 So you imagine, then, Mr. Juxon, that I 
 discovered your secret through that old 
 volume of ' Paley,' that belonged to one of my 
 college contemporaries ? You are wrong, sir ! 
 
MR. MASSINGTHORPE UNMASKED. 227 
 
 I have known your history ever since the 
 first week I set foot in this town, and beheld 
 your name over your shop-door." 
 
 " Known my history since " But 
 
 Mr. Juxon's voice clave to his throat. 
 
 Yes, known both the dark and the bright 
 side of it — the shame and the credit that 
 attach to it. Look here, Mr. Juxon." Mr 
 Massingthorpe had unlocked a drawer in his 
 desk, and taken from it a letter yellow with 
 / age.) " I have had that letter by me forty 
 years. It has always seemed to me that the 
 writer at that time was a humble and 
 repentant man ; but your conduct, sir, these 
 last few weeks has made me often doubt 
 whether you have ever known what repent- 
 ance or humility mean." 
 
 At the sight of that blotted sheet he had 
 written to his master in agony of spirit 
 years gone by, Mr. Juxon trembled in every 
 limb, and sank down into the chair beside 
 him. 
 
228 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 " I — I don't understand/' he said, putting 
 his hand to his head in a bewildered way. 
 " You have known it all these years, you 
 say? 
 
 Yes ; and having kept your secret so long, 
 Mr. Juxon, can you not trust me to keep it 
 a little longer ?" 
 
 For a moment, Mr. J uxon almost resented 
 this superiority of nature. He felt crushed 
 and humiliated by it. Kept his secret ! 
 when he could have crushed him at any 
 time by revealing it ! A sort of dogged 
 pride made him resolve he would not show 
 how he was moved by this discovery. But 
 it was useless : the poor feint broke down. 
 He tried to speak, to hold up his head ; but 
 the words would not come ; his lips quivered ; 
 and hiding his face in his hands, he burst 
 into uncontrollable tears. 
 
 "Oh, sir, you've got the better of me. 
 You've beaten your enemy — beaten him at 
 
MR. MASSINGTHORPE UNMASKED. 229 
 
 last. I haven't a word to say — not a 
 word !" 
 
 John Juxon without a word — Demosthenes 
 mute ! If any of his club-room friends could 
 have seen him at that moment ! 
 
 Mr. Massingthorpe turned away. The 
 spectacle of this old man's tears was very 
 painful. 
 
 " Then this matter will be safe with 
 you ?" asked Mr. Juxon, as soon as he was 
 calm enough to speak. You won't feel it 
 your duty (and one man's ideas of duty are 
 not another man's) to show me up in any 
 way r 
 
 Mr. Juxon was rubbing away his tears as 
 though already ashamed of them. 
 
 "Show you up, sir?" repeated Mr. Mas- 
 singthorpe, looking at the speaker with an air 
 of sorrowful indignation. " Ah, Mr. Juxon, 
 I don't envy that knowledge of human 
 nature you say you possess. Your secret is 
 
230 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 safe with me, sir— quite safe. But as you 
 seem still distrustful, and inclined to doubt 
 that a man can act from disinterested motives, 
 suppose I attach a condition to my silence?" 
 
 Mr. Juxon looked keenly at the speaker. 
 Suppose I agree to keep your secret on 
 the understanding that you will take back 
 your assistant, Mr. Mason, and not without ? 
 I know all his story, though he was not a 
 mere catspaw in my hands, as you have 
 insinuated. He is an excellent and an 
 intelligent fellow, and ought not to suffer in 
 this matter ; nor shall he^ if I can help it. 
 Come, sir, is it to be a bargain between us ?" 
 
 Take back George Mason ! The proposi- 
 tion was monstrous ! How could he over- 
 look his conduct? How could he thus 
 stultify himself before his neighbours ? 
 
 "You can hardly mean what you say, 
 sir ?" he replied incredulously. " It can't be 
 done." 
 
MR. MASSINGTHORPE UISTMASKED. 231 
 
 Very well, Mr. Juxon, you know best 
 about that ; but I advise you not to decide 
 too hastily. As I don't want, however, to 
 force you to any unwilling decision, suppose 
 you take a few hours to consider it over, and 
 call upon me to-morrow evening, and let me 
 know how you have decided." 
 
 A look of consternation settled over Mr. 
 Juxon's features as he heard Mr. Massing- 
 thorpe's ultimatum. But he was too con- 
 fused, too agitated, by the turn the interview 
 had taken to say another word. Murmuring 
 to himself that ''it couldn't be done," he 
 bade the Vicar " Good-night," and left the 
 house, absorbed in reflections so agitating, as 
 to make him indifferent whether he might be 
 seen, or not, quitting a house which a week 
 ago he would have made it a point of con- 
 science not to enter. 
 
232 
 
 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 CHAPTER X, 
 
 " GOOD-BYE, SWEETHEART, GOOD-BYE." " 
 
 George Mason was so discouraged by the 
 way in which his advance towards a recon- 
 cihation with Mr, Juxon had been met — an 
 advance which he felt to be even magna- 
 nimous on his own part — that he walked 
 straight to the coach-office at " The George 
 Hotel " on returning to the town, and 
 booked himself for the next night's mail 
 for London. That done, he turned into 
 Church Lane, and after casting a wistful 
 glance at the old shop now shut up for the 
 night, and standing a moment to see if 
 Minnie's face should appear at any of the 
 windows, he knocked at Miss Crewels's 
 
" GOOD-BYE, SWEETHEART, GOOD-BYE." 233 
 
 door, and was admitted to the privacy of her 
 parlour, where she sat reading the Church of 
 England Magazine over her supper. 
 
 " Has it come to this, George ?" asked 
 Miss Crewels, tragically, as she heard of his 
 resolve. " Oh, if your dear parents could 
 have lived to see it ! So carefully brought 
 up as you were, and to be thrown amongst 
 the temptations of that great city, where 
 sin stalks abroad day and night, and where 
 you don't know even the name of your 
 next-door neighbour, I'm told !" 
 
 "I suppose my good bringing-up will 
 make the temptations all the less dangerous 
 for me, or ought to do," said Mason. But 
 we won't discuss that, please for, much as 
 he respected his mother's old friend, it was 
 vexatious that she should forget that he was 
 no longer a lad, to be warned and advised 
 as in the old days. " What IVe come for 
 to-night. Miss Crewels, is to ask of you a 
 
234 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 friendly service, which I don't think you'll 
 see any harm in, and which will make me 
 leave the town a much happier man than 
 I am^at present." 
 
 Miss Crewels, like the kind-hearted crea- 
 ture she was, instantly announced her readi- 
 ness to comply with the request, and was 
 thrown into a delightful flutter on hearing 
 what it was. 
 
 I'll put on my bonnet at once/' said 
 she, " and run across. No, stay ; I'll send 
 Eliza, my little servant, for I might let the 
 cat out of the bag." 
 
 Five minutes later Miss Crewels's servant 
 entered the parlour where Mrs. Juxon and 
 her daughter sat at supper, and announced 
 " her mistress's love, and would Miss Minnie 
 step over the way for five minutes, having 
 something very particular to say, and 
 thought she would like to see the new 
 patterns just come from London?" 
 
^'good-bye, sweetheart, good-bye." 235 
 
 Wicked Miss Crewels ! The pattern-box 
 had not been opened yet. But the unsus- 
 pecting Minnie got up and accompanied the 
 servant back. It was not until she had 
 entered the Berlin-wool Repository and saw 
 a hat and stick lying incongruously amongst 
 the feminine ware on the counter, that she 
 had any suspicion of the little plot on hand, 
 
 ''Oh, Miss Crewels, you shouldn't have 
 done this !" she exclaimed to her injudicious 
 friend, who had opened the shop-door with 
 the most delicious air of mystery. " I — I 
 can't see him !" The poor girl had turned 
 white as the lambswool on the counter, 
 and seemed inclined to run away again. 
 " I can't — I mustn't see him !" 
 
 " Stay, my dear ; don't be rash. You 
 don't know but why you might repent it 
 your life long," said Miss Crewels, solemnly. 
 "It doesn't do to drive a young man to 
 despair, and there was despair written on 
 
236 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 his face when he entered that room " (point- 
 ing to the parlour) " and told me how his 
 mind was made up to do it." 
 
 "To do what, Miss Crewels?'' 
 
 "To go away and seek his fortune in 
 that wicked and worldly London, where, like 
 many a young man before him, he may be 
 ruined and lost, but for those precious ties 
 of (Wait a minute, Mr. Mason," inter- 
 polated Miss Crewels anxiously, hearing the 
 parlour-door creak) — " ties of home and love, 
 my dear, that you have the power to bind 
 around him ; for truly does he love you, and 
 well deserves a kindly word at parting." 
 
 " Groing away !" repeated Minnie, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 "Yes, my dear, to-morrow night, and 
 booked a place already; for tried he has 
 once more this very night to make it up 
 with your dear father, but failed again, as 
 was to be expected, who took him up so 
 
" GOOD-BYE, SWEETHEART^ GOOD-BYE." 237 
 
 sliarp and bitter that further waiting is quite 
 useless ; and now he only wants to say a fond 
 ' Good-bye/ which you never can and never 
 will refuse to one so true;" and the soft- 
 hearted Miss Crewels, who was getting inco- 
 herent with emotion, wiped a tear from her 
 eye, and blew her nose violently. 
 
 " It will only be to say good-bye, then," 
 said Minnie, slowly and sadly. "It must 
 be broken off now, Miss Crewels. I can't 
 bring father any more trouble ; he has 
 more on his mind now than he can bear, I 
 fear." 
 
 And Minnie bravely carried out her reso- 
 lution, when she stood with her hand clasped 
 in George Mason's, and his eyes looking 
 fondly into hers, what time Miss Crewels, 
 glorying in the task of succouring love in 
 distress, kept guard outside the parlour- 
 door. At the end of a few minutes, Minnie 
 came out of the parlour, pale and red-eyed, 
 
238 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 bat with a resolute expression on her little 
 face. 
 
 "Yes, Miss Crewels, it's all over/' she 
 answered, in reply to the inquiring look of her 
 friend, who wept over her as she wrapped 
 her up in her shawl. " I have told him it 
 must end here. I won't give any promise 
 to write to him, and I cannot receive his 
 letters ; but — but I shall never marry any 
 one else ; and — and I don't think he will 
 and she choked down her rising sobs, and 
 ran home to weep out her full heart alone. 
 
 The other lover was almost in as bad 
 straits. He was leaning dejectedly against 
 the chimneypiece when Miss Crewels entered 
 the parlour, and there were traces of tears 
 on his face. 
 
 Thank you for all your kindness, Miss 
 Crewels," said he to his sympathetic little 
 friend, " but I don't see that anything can 
 mend matters now. It's very hard, but one 
 
" GOOD-BYE, SWEETHEART, GOOD-BYE." 239 
 
 can scarcely blame her for holding to her 
 father as she does. She's the dearest girl 
 
 " But he stopped, unable to sing his 
 
 dearest's praises, and holding out his hand, 
 said, " Here's good-bye to you. Miss Crewels, 
 and to all friends in Church Lane and the 
 next minute he was out of the house, leaving 
 Miss Crewels to sit and cry over her un- 
 finished supper, and get such consolation 
 as she could from the reflection that " it was 
 the fate of true love all the world over." 
 
 When the next morning came, however, 
 George Mason's plans were temporarily 
 embarrassed by receiving the following note 
 from the Vicarage : — 
 
 " My dear Sir, — Will you do me the 
 favour to call upon me this evening at 
 eight ? I hear you are resolved to leave 
 the town, but I beg you to defer your depar- 
 ture until after our interview. If after it 
 
240 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 you still desire to go, I will offer no further 
 opposition. 
 
 "Tours faithfully, 
 ''Edward Massingthorpe." 
 
 "Some further kind delusion," reflected 
 Mason ; but there would be time to keep 
 the appointment at the Vicarage, and still 
 go away by the night-mail so he went on 
 again with his preparations for departure. 
 
241 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 A CONSISTENT MAN. 
 
 The hours that intervened between Mr. 
 Juxon's interview with Mr. Massingthorpe 
 at the Vicarage, and his reappearance there 
 the following evening, were about the hardest 
 hours he had ever known in his life. He 
 had been thrown into such utter confusion 
 of mind by the discovery of the generous 
 conduct of the man he had vilified and 
 opposed, and some of his old pet theories 
 had been so rudely disturbed, that at first 
 he was simply bewildered, and unable to 
 reason or reflect. But when he came to 
 consider things with calmness, the more he 
 thought of Mr. Massingthorpe's forbearance 
 
 VOL. II. R 
 
242 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 the more lie was touched by it, and the 
 smaller looked his own conduct by contrast. 
 But that proposition ! Take back George 
 Mason ! How could he thus stultify him- 
 self, as he had said? How could he pass 
 this censure on his own conduct? Truly, 
 no harder condition could have been devised 
 than that on which Mr. Massingthorpe's 
 silence was to be contingent. It turned 
 Mr. Juxon's heart sick within him to think 
 of the sarcasms of Mr. Barnes, the sneers 
 of the club-room, the contempt of all his 
 old admirers, which would necessarily follow 
 his acceptance of that condition. Great 
 drops of sweat broke out on his brow, as he 
 asked himself whether he could bear these 
 things. 
 
 At the appointed time that evening, Mr. 
 Juxon presented himself at the Vicarage. If 
 he had been a few minutes earlier, he would 
 have seen George Mason enter the same 
 
A CONSISTENT MAN. 243 
 
 doors, and probably would have turned away 
 again under the impression that a recon- 
 ciliation scene was going to be got up, and 
 he about to be asked to forgive and embrace 
 the young man, after the manner of appeased 
 parents on the stage. But Mr. Massing- 
 thorpe knew better than that. He received 
 his visitor alone in the library, and met him 
 with an air of welcome, as if to facilitate the 
 hard task before him. 
 
 I am glad you are punctual, Mr. Juxon. 
 We shall not be disturbed here whilst we 
 talk over the matter that engaged us last 
 night — a matter which I can see has cost 
 you some anxiety since." 
 
 It was evident enough in Mr. Juxon's 
 face and bearing. 
 
 " Yes, sir, it has cost me anxiety — bitter 
 anxiety," said he, I never closed my eyes 
 last night, for thinking of it. I've wavered, 
 sir — ^^I own to you I've wavered — and my 
 
244 
 
 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 will has been pulled this way and that, until 
 my indecision nearly crazed me. But my 
 mind is made up now, sir, and I'm come to 
 tell you the answer I have to give you/' In 
 a few plain unstudied words, Mr. Juxon 
 announced his consent to the proposition 
 that had been made him. 
 
 I expected as much of you, Mr. Juxon," 
 said the Vicar, with a glad excited air ; and 
 I congratulate you on coming to what no 
 doubt was a very hard decision under the 
 circumstances." 
 
 Mr. Massingthorpe spoke with a warmth 
 and enthusiasm that offered a sharp contrast 
 to the calm cold air of the other. And yet 
 there was emotion — suppressed emotion — 
 at this moment working in John Juxon's 
 face. 
 
 I — I should like to add a word or two, 
 Mr. Massingthorpe," he said, with an effort. 
 You mentioned something last night about 
 
A CONSISTENT MAN. 245 
 
 our not having known one another all these 
 years. I feel that, sir, to be a bitter re- 
 proach to me, for I fancied I did know you, 
 and that you were" — he paused a moment — 
 " a very different man, Mr. Massingthorpe, 
 to what I have found you. However much 
 we may disagree, sir^ in our views of reli- 
 gion or politics, or what not — and I won't 
 deny (as why should I ?) that I stick to and 
 hope always to stick to those opinions 
 which you have before now often heard me ex- 
 press at vestry meetings and elsewhere ; and I 
 
 won't deny either, sir" Bat John Juxon 
 
 stopped. The old rhetorical manner which 
 charmed the club-room would not serve 
 when true and genuine emotions like those 
 were struggling for utterance. "I mean, 
 sir — I think you know what I mean. Will 
 you — will you, after all that's happened, 
 shake hands with me ?" 
 
 To see John Juxon standing there with 
 
246 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 outstretched hand and that request upon 
 his Hps ! 
 
 Gladly, Mr. Juxon" cried the Vicar, as 
 he wrung the offered hand. " We are in a 
 fair way to know each other at last, I 
 hope." 
 
 ''Know each other, sir? You are the 
 only man in this town who knows me for 
 what I anij and the thought that, knowing 
 me as you do, you can take my hand in 
 yours as you have just done, makes me," 
 
 His voice faltered and broke. "God 
 
 bless you, Mr. Massingthorpe ! I shan't for- 
 get it — I shan't forget it !" and he turned 
 abruptly away to hide his strong emotion. 
 
 Now, if Mr. Massingthorpe had wished 
 to wind up matters with a coup de theatre^ 
 he would have called in George Mason from 
 the adjoining room, and bidden them shake 
 hands and be friends on the spot. But he 
 preferred a more spontaneous and gradual 
 
A CONSISTENT MAN. 247 
 
 process of reconciliation, though, no doubt, 
 there would have been a nice dramatic fitness^ 
 in such procedure. He allowed his visitor 
 to depart in ignorance of Mason's presence 
 there, and not until he had shown Mr. Juxon 
 out at the front-door, did he enter the room 
 where the young man sat impatiently await- 
 ing the result of his mediation. 
 
 " You may get your place at the booking- 
 office cancelled as soon a^ you please, 
 Mason," said the old gentleman. "Mr. 
 Juxon is ready to take you back to-morrow, 
 and I think it will be your own fault if ever 
 he parts with you again." 
 
 Eeady to take me back ? Oh, sir, how 
 has it been done 
 
 But the secret of that marvellous change 
 which Mr. Massingthorpe's influence had 
 wrought in his old enemy was then, and ever 
 afterwards, a secret religiously preserved. 
 
 ''I can only tell you that I have Mr. 
 
248 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 Juxon's promise to that effect; and lie is 
 not a man to depart from his word," was 
 the Vicar's reply. 
 
 Nor did Mr. Juxon depart from his word. 
 It had taken strong evidence to convince 
 him of any flaws in his own system of 
 ethics, or show him any merits in other 
 people's ; but having once discerned such, he 
 was not the man to blink the fact. Hence- 
 forth he was constrained to admit that men 
 sometimes practised what they preached. 
 
 But it must not be supposed that any imme- 
 diate or violent transformation was produced 
 in Mr. Juxon. He did not hasten home, 
 embrace his wife, forgive his daughter, and 
 announce his intention of attending church 
 henceforth every Sunday; but a slow and 
 radical alteration of character dated from 
 that time. 
 
 It began with the recall of his old assist- 
 ant, who of course met him in a proper 
 
A CONSISTENT MAN. 249 
 
 spirit, and did his best to spare his master's 
 pride. ^ 
 
 " George Mason," said he, you have sued 
 to me ; I now sue to you, and tell you frankly, 
 that if you'll take your seat again in my 
 shop, and enter on your old engagements 
 with me, you'll give pleasure to me and also 
 to my family." 
 
 There was no allusion made at that mo- 
 ment to the other engagement, but sufficient 
 encouragement was implied in that reference 
 to the family to make Mason very hopeful. 
 
 But if Mr. Juxon's task was comparatively 
 easy in putting himself right with his own 
 household, it was another matter to put 
 himself right with the town. It was a 
 trying moment when he made his re- 
 appearance in the club-room at "The 
 George," and had to face the sarcastic 
 visages of Messrs. Barnes and Barlow, who 
 regarded him as a renegade, and openly 
 
250 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 twitted liim with having been earwigged 
 by old Massingthorpe." Mr. Juxon bore 
 their satire with tolerable temper, and ad- 
 mitted (though with a painful sense of 
 disingenuousness) that in a private interview 
 with Mr. Massingthorpe he had been met 
 by unexpected and powerful arguments, 
 which had made him resolve to offer no 
 further opposition to his wishes in the matter 
 of the Pyphos Schools. More satire and sup- 
 pressed laughter followed on this statement, 
 with commentary shrugs and winks that 
 made Mr. J uxon's blood boil. But he had 
 resolved to keep silent, and to that resolu- 
 tion he adhered, until in an indiscreet 
 moment that wretched little timeserver, 
 Mr. Moggs, ventured on some witticisms 
 upon consistency at his expense. It was the 
 ass kicking the dead lion ; and the indignity 
 was more than human nature could endure. 
 Consistency !" cried Juxon, eyeing with 
 
A CONSISTENT MAN. 251 
 
 withering scorn the startled satirist. What, 
 pray, do you know of consistency ? — a man 
 who tries to curry favour with all parties, 
 and has neither the sense nor the spirit to 
 hold opinions of his own. Let me tell you, 
 sir, that it becomes such men as you, and 
 as me, to speak with respect of Mr. Massing- 
 thorpe — yes, sir, with respect. You may 
 stare, but I mean it, and I repeat it ; and I 
 here say publicly, gentlemen, that I hope I 
 may never be heard again, either in this 
 room or elsewhere, to utter a word against 
 a man who is so much my superior in every- 
 thing as I have found Mr. Massingthorpe to 
 be With which brave declaration of his 
 sentiments, Mr. Juxon rose from his seat, 
 flushed and excited, and, laying down his 
 pipe, wished the company Goodnight," and 
 quitted the room. 
 
 But from that hour Mr. Juxon had lost for 
 ever his place of authority and pre-eminence in 
 
252 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 that assembly. His judgments were never 
 again received with the same respect, nor 
 issued with the same authority and confi- 
 dence. In giving up his old grievances, he 
 lost his post of leader of the opposition in 
 that chamber, and sank to the ordinary level 
 of humanity. 
 
 That some gain accrued to him in other 
 quarters, however, may be inferred from the 
 following remarks that fell from the lips of 
 Miss Crewels^ the first time she went up to 
 The Firs " after the return of Miss Pyphos 
 and her niece from the Continent. The 
 ostensible object of Miss Crewels's visit 
 was contained in the parcel of wools, &c. 
 she carried with her ; but when the little 
 shopkeeper had exhausted the subject of 
 ''the new blue," and the latest novelty in 
 bead-work, she was detained by Miss Pyphos, 
 on purpose to hear the news of the bo- 
 rough, and the upshot of the great "Judex" 
 
A CONSISTENT MAN. 253 
 
 and " Fairplay " squabble, about which there 
 had been so much in the newspapers that 
 had been sent to Miss Pyphos abroad. 
 
 " Well, ma'am, I think you will agree with 
 me that Mr. Juxon has behaved very credit- 
 ably," said Miss Crewels, after a most 
 graphic version of the whole facts known to 
 her. ''And never shall I say again that 
 we are any of us too old to alter for the 
 better ; for not only has it ended as I tell 
 you, but last Sunday evening, when I entered 
 church, my breath was quite taken for the 
 moment by seeing him sitting between his 
 wife and daughter in the centre aisle, and 
 paying such attention to the sermon affcer^ 
 as might put many a good churchgoer to 
 the blush, and handing half-a-crown to the 
 plate at collection, which really brought to 
 my mind the widow's mite, and made me 
 think how little one knows one's fellow- 
 creatures' hearts after all." 
 
t 
 
 254 HEARTH GHOSTS. 
 
 Miss Crewels paused a moment for breath, 
 and to take a sip of the sherry with which 
 she had been invited to regale herself after 
 her long walk. Poising her glass on her 
 gloved hand, she resumed : — 
 
 " And to make it clear, ma'am, to all the 
 town that everything is made up, there stood 
 young Mr. Mason waiting for them at the 
 church-doors, and went off arm-in-arm with 
 Miss Juxon, at which I could have really cried 
 for joy, thinking how they had parted broken- 
 hearted in my parlour, and should have 
 made a fool of myself, I fear, but for its 
 being a sacred place, and the organ still 
 playing the Hallelujah Chorus. 'You'll 
 come to the wedding, neighbour ?' whispered 
 Mr. Juxon, giving me a sly poke. At which 
 my heart so relented for bitter thoughts in 
 the past^ that T murmured ' Grod bless you, 
 Mr. Juxon !' on the spot. For I say again, 
 ma'am, that setting aside temper and 
 
* 
 
 A CONSISTENT MAN. 255 
 
 crotchets (to which we are all of us liable), 
 there's not a man of better sense in this 
 town, nor one who has a neater way of 
 putting a joke when in the humour." 
 
 THE END OF THE SECOND NARRATIVE. 
 
 END OF VOL. II. 
 
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 The Voyage Alone ; a Sail in the Yawl, Rob Roy." By John 
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 NEW BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 ILD Life under the Equator. By Paul Du Chaillu, 
 Author of " Discoveries in Equatorial Africa." With 40 
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 " 31. du Chaillu's name icillhe a siifficient guarantee for the interest of 
 Wild Life under the Equator, which he has narrated for young people in 
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 for the young, and he has skilfully utilized his experience for their benefit." 
 — Economist. 
 
 Also by the same Author, uniform. 
 
 Stories of the Gorilla Country, 36 Illustrations. Price 6s. 
 
 Lost in the Jungle. Numerous Illustrations. 6s. 
 
 Cast Away in the Cold. An Old Man's Story of a Young Man's 
 Adventures. By the Author of " The Open Polar Sea." With Illus- 
 trations. Small 8vo. cloth extra, price 6."?. 
 
 " The result is delightful. A story of adventure of the most telling 
 local colour and detail, the most exciting danger, and eyiding with the most 
 natural and ejfective escape. There is an air of veracity and reality 
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 adventure of any kind. There is great vivacity and picturesqueness in 
 the style, the illustrations are admirable, and there is a novelty in the 
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 of the most popular." — Spectator. 
 
 The Autobiography of a Small Boy. By the Author of" School 
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 Also now ready. 
 Alwyn Morton, his Fchool and his Schoolfellows. 
 
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List of Publications, 
 
 13 
 
 The Story of a Bad Boy — not a very Bad Boy. By Thomas 
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 Lost; or, What Came of a Slip from Honour Bright. By Rev. 
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 The Silver Skates; a Story of Holland Life. By Mrs. M. A. 
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 Life amongst the North and South American Indians. By 
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 " An admirable hook, full of useful information, wrapt up in stories 
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 The Voyage of the Constance ; a tale of the Polar Seas. By 
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 Our Salt and Fresh Water Tutors ; a Story of that Good Old 
 Time— Our School Days at the Cape. Edited by W. H. G. Kingston. 
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 " One of the best books of the kind that the season has given us. This 
 little hook is to be commended warmly." — Illustrated Times. 
 
 The Boy's Own Book of Boats. A Description of every Craft 
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 Also by the same Author, 
 Ernest Bracebridge ; or, Boy's Own Book of Sports. 3s. 6d. 
 The Fire Ships. A. Story of the Days of Lord Cochrane. 5s. 
 The Cruise of the Frolic. 5s. 
 Jack Buntline : the Life of a Sailor Boy. 2s. 
 
 What are the Stars ? a Treatise on Astronomy for the Young. 
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 Phenomena and Laws of Heat : a Volume of Marvels of Science. 
 By Achille Cazin. Translated and Edited by Elihu Rich. With 
 numerous Illustrations. Fcap. 8vo. price 5s. 
 
 Also, uniform, same price. 
 Marvels of Optics. By F. Marion. Edited and Translated by C. W. 
 Quin. With 70 Illustrations. 5s. 
 
 Marvels of Thunder and Lightning. By De Fonvielle. Edited by Dr. 
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 Stories of the Great Prairie. From the Novels of J. F. Cooper. 
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 Stories of the Woods, from the Adventures of Leather-Stocking. 
 Stories of the Sea, from Cooper's Naval Novels. 
 The Voyage of the Constance. By Mary Gillies. 3s. 6d. 
 The Swiss Family Robinson, and Sequel. In I vol. 3s. 6d. 
 The Story Without an End. Translated by Sarah Austin. 2s. 6d. 
 
14 
 
 Sampson Low and CoJi 
 
 Adventures on the Great Hunting-Grounds of the World. From 
 the Frence of Victor Meunier. With additional matter, including the 
 Duke of Edinburgh's Elephant Hunt, &c. With 22 Engravings, 
 price 5s. 
 
 " The book for all boys in whom the love of travel and adventure is 
 strong. They will find here plenty to amuse them and much to instruct 
 them besides." — Times. 
 
 Also, lately published, 
 Golden Hair; a Tale of the Pilgrim Fathers. By Sir Lascelles Wraxall. 
 3s. 6d. 
 
 Black Panther : a Boy's Adventures amongst the Red Skins. By the 
 same Author. 35. 6d. 
 
 Jacob and Joseph, and the Lesson of their Lives for the Young. 
 By Elihu Burritt, Author of " Old Burchell's Pockets, &c." Numerous 
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 Also beautifully Illustrated : — 
 Little Bird Red and Little Bird Blue. Coloured, 5s. 
 Snow-Flakes, and what they told the Children. Coloured, 5s. 
 Child's Book of the Sagacity of Animals. 5s. ; or coloured, 7s. 6rf. 
 Child's Picture Fable Book. 5s. ; or coloured, 7s. 6d. 
 Child's Treasury of Story Books. 5s. ; or coloured, 7s. 6d. 
 The Nursery Playmate. 200 Pictures. 5s. ; or coloured, 9s. 
 
 Anecdotes of the Queen and Ro3^al Famil}^ of England Collected, 
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 tion for the Province of Ontario. With Illustrations. Price 5s. 
 
 Geography for my Children. By Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe. 
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 Great Fun and Mure Fun for our Little Friends. By Harriet 
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 LD Town Folks. By the Author of Uncle Tom's 
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 trinsic merits." — Times. ''A novel of great power and beauty, and some- 
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 people's reading. . . It is a finished literary work, and will well repay the 
 redding." — Literary Churchman, 
 
 Daisy Nichol. By Lady Hardy. 3 vols. [Shortly. 
 
 Hitherto: a Story of Yesterday. By the Author of *'The Gay- 
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List of Publications, 
 
 15 
 
 Lorna Doone. A Romance of Exmoor. By R. D. Blackmore. 
 
 New edition, one volume, with frontispiece, price 65. [Just ready. 
 
 " Continually reminds us of the best of Scott's novels — Spectator. 
 
 David Gray ; and other Essays, chiefly on Poetry. By Robert 
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 The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table. By Oliver Wendell 
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 tions, Price 2s. 6d. 
 
 Queer Little People. By the Author of " Uncle Tom's Cabin." 
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 of " Lady Grace," " Twice Lost," &c. Third Edition, fcap 8vo. with 
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 Marian ; or, the Light of Some One's Home. 
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 Minnie's Mission, a Temperance Story. 4s. 
 
 Low's Minion Series of Popular Books. Is. each : — 
 The Gates Ajar. (The original English Edition.) 
 Who is He? 
 The Little Preacher. 
 The Boy Missionary. 
 
16 Sampson Low and Co.^s List of Puhlications, 
 
 The Story of Four Little Women: Me^, Joe, Beth, and Amy. 
 By Louisa M. Alcott. Both Series complete in 1 volume. 16mo, cloth, 
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 Also, Entertaining Stories for Young Ladies, 3s. 6rf. each, cloth, gilt edges. 
 An Old-fashioned Girl. By L. M. Alcott. 
 Helen Felton's Question : a Book for Girls. By Agnes Wylde. 
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 The Gayworthys. By the same Author. Third Edition. 
 A Summer in Leslie Goldthwaite's Life. By the same Author. 
 The Masque at Ludlow. By the Author of " Mary Powell." 
 Miss Biddy Frobisher : a Salt Water Story. By the same Author. 
 Selvaggio; a Story of Italy. By the same Author. New Edition. 
 The Journal of a Waiting Gentlewoman. By a new Author. New Edition . 
 The Shady Side and the Sunny Side. Two Tales of New England. 
 
 Tauchnitz's English Editions of German Authors. Each volume 
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 1. On the Heights. By B. Auerbach. 3 vols. 
 
 2. In the Year '13. By Fritz Renter. 1 vol. 
 
 3. Faust. By Goethe. 1 vol. 
 
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 5 L'Arrabiata. By Paul Heyse. 1 vol. 
 
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 7. Lessing's Nathan the Wise. 
 
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 9. Three Tales. By W. Hauff. 
 
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 11. Poems by Ferdinand Freiligrath. Edited by his daughter. 
 
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 13. The Dead Lake, and other Tales. By P. Heyse. 
 
 14. Through Night to Light, by Gutzkow. 
 
 Low's Copyright Cheap Editions of American Authors, com- 
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 3. The Minister's Wooing. By the Author of " Uncle Tom's Cabin." 
 
 4. Views Afoot. By Bayard Taylor. 
 
 6. Kathriua, Her Life and Mine. By J. G. Holland. 
 
 6. Hans Brinker ; or, Life in Holland. By Mrs. Dodge. 
 
 7. Men, Women, and Ghosts. By Miss Phelps. 
 
 8. Society and Solitude. By Ralph Walde Emerson. 
 
 9. Hedged In. By Elizabeth Phelps. 
 
 10. An Old-fashioned Girl. By Louisa M. Alcott. 
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