
 
 << 
 
 
 Fj{ANK BAimETT 

 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY 
 AT URBANA-CHAMPAIG; 
 BOOKSTACKS
 
 A PEODIGAL'S PKOGKESS 
 
 FRANK BARRETT, 
 
 AUTHOR OP 
 LIELTENANT BARNABAS," "FOLLY MORRISON," ETC. 
 
 IN TEHEE VOLUMES, 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 EICHAED BENTLEY AND SON, 
 
 NEW BUELINGTON STEEET. 
 
 1882. 
 
 {All rights reserved.)
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWFiS AND SONS. I.IMITF.P, LONDON AND BECCLF.S.
 
 1/.' 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 ClIAPTKK PAGK 
 
 I. The Prodigal ... ... ... 1 
 
 II. What happened at the Cock Inn 25 
 
 III. An Extraordinary Encounter which 
 happened on the Eoad to Kock- 
 FORD ... ... ... ••• 53 
 
 lY. John Hutchins makes a Curious 
 
 Revelation ... ... ... 08 
 
 V. In which the Scene is shifted to 
 
 THE Bag o' Nails ... ... 86 
 
 YI. The Little Bookseller tells a 
 
 Story ... ... ••• 1^^ 
 
 YII. Captain Davenant ... ... 124 
 
 YIII. Aunt Gertrude... ... ... 142 
 
 IX. Of the Grave Discussion which took 
 place in^ Captain Davenant's 
 Closet ... ... ... 156
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGB 
 
 X. Mr. Tickle takes Supper at Red- 
 water House ... ... 172 
 
 XI. Blase goes amongst his Foes, and is 
 
 Discomforted ... ... ... 191 
 
 XII. Blase returns to his Friends, and 
 
 IS Comforted ... ... 217 
 
 XIII. In which is set forth Captain 
 
 Davenant's Folly ... ... 232 
 
 XIV. How Blase was tempted by the 
 
 Parson ... ... ... 245 
 
 XV. How Blase was tempted by a ' 
 
 Pretty Maid ... ... ... 267 
 
 XVI. In which Blase makes his Escape 287
 
 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE PRODiaAL. 
 
 " Try this pigeon pie, mj young friend ; 
 I never tasted a better in all mj life," said 
 the Eeverend Joseph Tickel, tilting the 
 dish to get the last spoonful of gravy. 
 
 *' The beef is excellent, but this is " 
 
 Words failing to express adequately the 
 merits of the pie, he concluded the sen- 
 tence with a smack of his full lips ; then 
 delicately taking up a piece of crust with 
 the fingers of one hand, he jDUshed the 
 dish with the other across the table to 
 Blase Godwin. 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 2 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Blase took no notice of the suggestion. 
 He sat with his chair turned from the 
 tahle, his legs crossed, his fingers knitted 
 over his knee, and his eyes fixed upon the 
 fire in moody meditation. His plate was 
 unsoiled ; the ale which his companion had 
 poured out for him was untouched. 
 
 The rattle of the parson's knife and fork, 
 accompanying his frequent remarks upon 
 the excellence of the food he ate, continued 
 without interruption for some minutes ; 
 then Blase raised his head with a deep- 
 drawn breath and said : 
 
 " It shall finish." (Mr. Tickel made no 
 comment, but collected the last morsels 
 on his fork and transferred them to his 
 capacious mouth.) " I will reform." 
 
 " Again, my boy ? " said the Reverend 
 Joseph, with his mouth full, and scraping 
 his plate. " Why, it can't be but a fort- 
 night from the last reformation." 
 
 '• I will not touch the dice again."
 
 THE PRODIGAL. 6 
 
 " A good resolution ! A capital resolu- 
 tion ! When a man has such damnable 
 ill luck with the bones as you have, he 
 would be a fool to persevere with 'em. 
 Try something else." 
 
 " I intend to try something else. I will 
 try sober living, decent pleasures, and, Mr. 
 Tickel, reputable companions." 
 
 Blase looked across the table signifi- 
 cantly as he spoke ; but the stout divine 
 met his glance without winciug, though 
 he knew full well for whom the thrust was 
 intended. 
 
 " I wish to Heaven you would stick to 
 that last article, Blase," . said he. '' I 
 sometimes blush to be seen in the company 
 of such fellows as you herd with. I risk 
 my reputation every time I go out with 
 you ; upon my soul I do." 
 
 " Go into the next room and fetch my 
 pocket-book from the coat I threw off when 
 we came in."
 
 4 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Mr. Tickel rose, wiping his mouth, and 
 fetched the book. Blase opened it, saying : 
 
 " Sit down, parson. You will find that 
 I am more serious than you think. How 
 much money had I last evening ? " 
 
 " A couple of hundred in your pocket, 
 and a thousand in the funds, roughly told." 
 
 " And how much do I owe ? " 
 
 " Four or five hundred, not more ; all to 
 respectable tradesmen, and as not a debt is 
 older than Michaelmas Day, and there's a 
 clear two months to Christmas, you haven't 
 a dun to fear. 
 
 " How much do you owe ? " 
 
 " Not a groat, my young friend — not a 
 mag." Mr. Tickel pulled out his snuff-box 
 and drew himself up with an air of con- 
 scious rectitude. 
 
 " That is to say, your debts are included 
 in the four or five hundred set to my 
 account," said Blase, 'ciphering in his 
 pocket-book, Mr. Tickel was too occupied
 
 THE PRODIGAL. 5 
 
 with his pinch of snuff to take any notice 
 of this imputation. 
 
 " Tradesmen — five hundred," continued 
 Blase ; " notes of hand to my Lord Atherly, 
 Mr. Saloman, and others — seven, six, 
 nought. Seven sixty and fivQ hundred are 
 twelve sixty. That puts me sixty pounds 
 in debt when all is paid." 
 
 " Atherly must be paid ; he's a peer, and 
 only holds paper for a hundred or so. But 
 as for that Saloman, who has the major 
 part of your acknowledgments, why, I 
 would discharge my obligation to such a 
 Jew scoundrel as that as a Christian 
 gentleman should." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Why, you know the fellow's a cheat. 
 Blase." 
 
 "Well!" 
 
 " Tell him so to his face before his 
 friends, and give him a tweak of the nose, 
 if that's all."
 
 6 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 ^^ What follows?" 
 
 " There's not one of his friends but owes 
 him something, and would be glad to have 
 him out of the way. They'll force him to 
 send you a message." 
 
 '' Go on." 
 
 " Why, the fellow has no more courage 
 than a partridge, and he'd sooner send you 
 back your notes of hand, and a handsome 
 apology, than meet you. But if he dares 
 to measure swords with you, you may 
 profit by the hotte you learned of the little 
 French master." 
 
 " Good God ! " cried Blase, springing to 
 his feet, " have I sunk to sucli a level of 
 contempt that you dare to offer me such 
 villainous advice ? " 
 
 " Kespect my cloth, sir ; respect my 
 cloth ! Villainous advice ! Is that the 
 term you apply to the counsel of a minister 
 of religion ? Are rogues, my young 
 friend, to go unpunished ? Are we to
 
 THE PRODIGAL. 7 
 
 wink at villainy, and encourage fraud? 
 Is it not written, * The wages of sin is 
 death'?" 
 
 "We need but a text to rob on the 
 highway respectably," said Blase, with a 
 harsh laugh ; then stopping before Tickel 
 — he had been pacing the room to and 
 fro — he said, in a tone of mingled remorse 
 and reproach, " Parson, I do believe you 
 have done more to bring me to destruction 
 than my own hot blood and lawless in- 
 clinations. For eight years you have been 
 my constant companion, and in all that 
 time have you never once exerted the 
 authority which position and age gave you 
 to turn me from evil ways. You have 
 removed the obstacles from my downward 
 path; not once have you supported me 
 in my feeble struggles to do right. You 
 have flattered and fooled me to the top 
 of my bent. You have put a gloss 
 upon my sins, and dulled the fine edge
 
 8 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 of conscience. You have made duty 
 a bye-word, and shown me no higher 
 object in life than the gratification of my 
 impetuous desires. Eight years ago I was 
 a decent, healthy lad, and now I am — 
 what I am!" 
 
 " This is generosity with a witness to 
 it ! " cried the Keverend Joseph Tickel. 
 "What! to turn round upon your Mthful 
 follower when you get into a slough, and 
 cry, ' This is thy fault!' Is that manly ? I 
 am not your keeper, my young friend. I 
 ceased to be your governor five years ago, 
 when you came of age, and since then I 
 have followed you through thick and thin, 
 from sheer love and pity, and served you as 
 no other man could. You do not say how 
 I have suffered by my foolish attachment, 
 or what degradation I might have escaped 
 by a little consideration on your part. 
 You take no notice of the services I have 
 rendered. It is nothing that I bit the
 
 THE PRODIGAL. 9 
 
 bad shilling the hackney coachman would 
 have passed off on yon o' Friday. No, you 
 only blame me for not tripping you up in 
 your mad course, and getting myself kicked 
 out of your friendship for my pains." 
 
 Blase had dropped into a chair, and, 
 deep in his own reflection, seemed heedless 
 of the parson's protest. 
 
 " I might have been a better man," he 
 said. 
 
 " And / might have been a bishop ! " 
 the parson exclaimed with a sigh. 
 
 " Where is Granger ? " 
 
 " Below, waiting to know at what hour 
 you will ride." 
 
 " Let him take the horses to Tattersall, 
 with a letter bidding him sell them." 
 
 Mr. Tickel shook his head disapprovingly. 
 
 " And you, parson, go to the agent and 
 get me eight hundred." 
 
 The parson took a deliberate pinch of 
 snuff, and having carefully shaken his frill,
 
 10 A rRODiaAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 said, ^^ This reformation will cost you a lot 
 of money, Blase. You won't get above lialf 
 that you paid for that pair of horses, and 
 when in about a fortnight you want a 
 
 couple more " 
 
 " I shall not want them in a fortnight." 
 " Then my name will not be Joseph 
 Tickel, and you may tell me I know 
 nothing of human nature. Come, Blase, 
 pluck up courage and have done with these 
 sickly fancies. Take a blue pill and I 
 warrant this megrim will pass, and you 
 will see life in warmer tints. Remember, 
 lad, how you were cast down by the faith- 
 lessness of Mrs. Kitely, and vowed in this 
 very room you would be duped never 
 again by a woman ; and remember how, 
 a week later, you w^ere wooing the pretty 
 wench from the King's Theatre with all 
 the ardour of first love," 
 
 "Yes, I remember that, and a dozen 
 other follies ; and I will try to bear 'em in
 
 THE PRODIGAL. 11 
 
 mind, parson, to keep me from the like 
 ngain. I am in earnest for the first time — 
 from no praiseworthy motive, but because 
 necessity compels me to a different mode 
 of living." 
 
 He rose again from his chair, took a turn 
 or two up and down the room, as if to bring 
 himself to a painful task, and then stopping 
 before Tickel, he pulled out his purse and 
 said : 
 
 " That's pretty much as it was last 
 evening, parson. Take it, and find some 
 better task than that of w^aiting upon a 
 ruined spendthrift." 
 
 The parson looked at the purse and then 
 at Blase, in silent astonishment for a 
 minute; then, speaking in a lowered voice, 
 and with the tears in his little blue eyes, 
 he said : 
 
 " You don't mean that we're to part, 
 Blase ? " 
 
 Blase nodded ; he could do no more.
 
 12 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Looking at the parson's great fat face, 
 which had dropped into an expression of 
 the most mournful dejection, the memories 
 of pleasant days and jolly nights filled his 
 mind, and left no space for reproach. He 
 had laughed at the parson's faults ever 
 since he first saw through his shallow 
 virtues, and liked him for them. He could 
 not harden his heart against him, or hring 
 himself to hreak their old companionship 
 with even a show of indifference. 
 
 The parson saw the tenderness in his 
 friend's face, and his own opportunity. 
 " I'm a leaky vessel. Blase," said he, " and 
 I have enough vices to answer for, God 
 knows, without that of ingratitude. I have 
 helped you to spend your money, and I'll 
 help you to hear poverty if it needs he. 
 I won't leave you, that's certain. Take 
 hack your purse, lad ; the first hottle I 
 hought with it would choke me. What ! 
 I am none of your fair-weather friends !
 
 THE PRODIGAL. 13 
 
 I'm not a rat, to sneak out of tlie sinking 
 ship. Nay, come to that, yon may find 
 me as good a hand as any to help keep 
 her afloat : and not mutinous neither. 
 Come, tell me your will, and test my 
 trustiness. Sit you down — nearer to me — 
 there, so. Now, you are fixed on carrying 
 out this notion of reform ? " 
 
 " I am ; by George, I am ! " 
 
 "■ Then I'll help you, though every prin- 
 ciple of my nature should rise against it. 
 Granger shall have the note, and take the 
 nags, and I'll to the agent and bid him sell 
 out eight hundred of stocks to pay that 
 thief Saloman — and may Heaven forgive 
 us. For the other bills, we may leave them 
 until payment is demanded, without lapsing 
 into profligacy; and then, my young friend, 
 we have a matter of five or six hundred or 
 thereabouts to begin our new life with. 
 You're resolved against the dice ? " 
 
 " I will not touch them again."
 
 14 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 " What then ? Shall you try the 
 lotteries ? " 
 
 "No. I shall not hazard the little I 
 have left." 
 
 " Then, begad, Blase, living at the rate 
 of fifteen guineas a week, we're not likely 
 to clear off our tradesfolks' accounts by 
 Christmas." 
 
 " We must give up this establishment, 
 and live cheaper." 
 
 " With all my heart. Nothing suits me 
 better than a snug chamber in a tavern. 
 Hang these fine rooms, where a man can't 
 stretch without flinging over a hundred 
 pounds' worth of china pagods ; and a 
 pretty penny you'll have to pay for break- 
 ages, my young friend, when you give up 
 this house ! Here is expense without 
 comfort. I sit me down as gingerly as 
 a goose on her eggs for fear I may burst 
 the chair ; there's not a room where I dare 
 smoke an honest clay pipe ; and the lazy
 
 THE PEODIGAL. 15 
 
 vagabonds we call our servants are our 
 masters — they'll do nothing without their 
 vails : it costs me a crown or a rap on my 
 bunion every time I want my shoe tied. 
 Give me a snug chamber in a tavern, my 
 corner by the coffee-room fire, with a 
 rummer shelf o' one side and a spittoon o* 
 t'other, a smiling hostess, and no servant 
 but a neat, clean, pretty little black-eyed 
 rogue of a chambermaid — ah ! " 
 
 The parson's face expanded in a genial 
 smile as his imagination dwelt on this 
 picture ; but presently, seeing that Blase 
 did not share his enthusiasm, and sat 
 looking again upon the fire with brows 
 bent, his thoughts took another turn, and 
 a look of perplexity came over his face. 
 Scratching his ear, he said : 
 
 " The devil of it is that even a modest 
 life of that kind costs money, and at present 
 it looks as if we shall have to begin modest 
 living on nothing at all."
 
 16 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 " Nothing. Fifteen thousand pounds all 
 spent, and in eight years ! Have I been 
 mad?" 
 
 " Not verj, Blase. A little frisky at 
 times. Something too easy with the 
 rascals, something too generous with your 
 friends — that's how the money has slipped 
 through your fingers." 
 
 •• Would I could live those years again!" 
 Blase said, with an accent of remorse. 
 
 •• And so do I," responded the parson 
 devoutly. 
 
 " I might have learnt a profession, or 
 risen to some laudable eminence amongst 
 men, earning my father's love instead 
 of his aversion. Oh, if I could look back 
 but on one single act and say, ' That was 
 well done ! ' There's not a memory but 
 that I would blot out. Decent people shun 
 me. The few that really loved me I dare 
 not face for shame ; I can only hope that 
 they have forgotten me, and ceased to 
 grieve."
 
 THE PRODIGAL. 17 
 
 The ready tears sprang to the parson's 
 eyes, for he could weep Kke a woman when 
 it was expedient. He pnt his hand kindly 
 on the young ma:- lulder and said : 
 
 "Take heart, mj boy. If there is no 
 recall with pride, 'tis because 
 y: : ' has not known that which 
 
 tl: nmi Liid. Only the meantreasnre 
 
 t: *:^ memories the sacrifices they 
 
 : : v'r'iie : the generons make 
 
 I : : : i : i :_ . Has ever an appeal 
 {<yr ':■:-■:;. :::v ::-:-::. — - \-.-:i^. or carelessly for- 
 2" T? Have ev : ; i. I :» support the 
 :r Ox an a; sent friend? Have ever 
 TO 11 shirked to do a kindly action because 
 it - ':- ::- ": iiksome? In fine, have 
 y :he character for truth 
 
 ai^ :: \ _ ji^^ r :.::.:. : :* E:_land? 
 
 That for remorse ! " The parson snapped 
 his fingers. " I say you have lived well. 
 and spent your money royally; and the 
 only regret I have in thinking of the 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 18 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 money that's gone is, that we haven't it now 
 to spend over again in the same manner." 
 
 Blase laughed, despite his cares. 
 
 "Oh, confound your careful young gentry, 
 I say," exclaimed the parson. " I'd birch 
 every lad that saved his pocket-money ; 
 and every young fellow of five and twenty 
 who could not acknowledge to some act of 
 folly, I'd make to wear a badge, that his 
 fellow-men might have caution in their 
 dealings with him." 
 
 " Then you take it I am ruined by being 
 over virtuous ? " 
 
 " Why, Blase, I cannot but admit that 
 you've overstepped the limits of prudence. 
 But let those who have resisted temptation 
 call you hard names ; I can't." 
 
 The parson's eye chancing to fall upon 
 the ale-jug, he filled his glass and emptied 
 it. 
 
 " Who says the offences of youth are 
 unpardonable ? " continued the parson.
 
 THE PRODIGAL. 19 
 
 "None but the dyspeptics — sour within 
 and without — whose only temptation has 
 been to avoid the cup and the petticoat. 
 Give one of the bilious, ugly rascals a 
 stomach like mine, that feels the better for 
 eating and drinking, and a bold handsome 
 face like yours, Blase, that never a woman 
 can pass without a wishful side-glance, and 
 I warrant his morality will relax." 
 
 " Parson," said Blase, rousing himself, 
 " if you preached until to-morrow morning, 
 your sophistry would not convince me that 
 I have not reason to be ashamed of my past 
 life. However, let the past pass ; 'tis the 
 future that concerns us now, and how we 
 are to do that which should be done." 
 
 " To be sure. Blase. There's a text for 
 a pretty homily ! " 
 
 " We've no time for it now. Let us 
 think how I am to earn an honourable 
 living." 
 
 " 'Tis a puzzling question — how to make
 
 20 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 money without capital, my young friend. 
 Commerce is closed against you. Tlie son 
 and heir of a baronet could hardly be ex- 
 pected to measure silks in a mercer's ; 
 though I wager all the ladies would flock 
 to your counter. What do you think of 
 Art ? You're counted an admirable critic." 
 " A strong argument against my being 
 a respectable painter. No ; I have no 
 special ability." 
 
 " Well, what do you think of Literature ? 
 There's a profession that requires no money, 
 and as far as one may judge by what one 
 reads now, no special ability either." 
 " Try again, parson." 
 " I am at a standstill, for all the other 
 professions require money to begin with." 
 
 A long silence ensued, in which both 
 men looked vaguely at the flickering flame 
 of the coal fire ; then the Rev. Joseph 
 Tickel, turning in his seat, and bringing 
 his big fist down upon the table with a
 
 THE PKODIGAL. 21 
 
 thump that set the plates and knives 
 rattling, cried, " I know what must be 
 done. Blase ; that is, if this idea of repent- 
 ance will hold out long enough." 
 
 " I promise you it will." 
 
 " Then we will go down into Dorset- 
 shire to your father, and make the old 
 gentleman kill the fatted calf." 
 
 '^ I haven't been near him for eight 
 years." 
 
 " Why, you haven't wanted to go near 
 him ! " 
 
 " He refused point-blank to let me have 
 any more money when last I wrote." 
 
 " That was reasonable enough, when he 
 knew 'twould be spent in riotous living." 
 
 " He said he would give no more." 
 
 " You're not bound to believe him — he's 
 your father." 
 
 " Father ! He cares less for me than if 
 he were my son. Never once has he 
 expressed a wish to see me, or shown the
 
 22 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 slightest interest in my welfare. He has 
 not even written to me under his own 
 hand, but always through his chaplain." 
 
 " Confound his chaplain for an accursed 
 Jesuit ! " 
 
 " He is under the influence of that man. 
 He may have become fanatically pious, and 
 then what favour should I get from him ? " 
 
 " Favour ! You don't ask him to do you 
 a kindness ; you simply demand that he 
 shall perform his Christian duty. I'll tell 
 him the parable of the prodigal son, and 
 we'll see how he gets over that." 
 
 " I don't like the idea." 
 
 " Why not ? 'Tis easy, and as moral 
 as you could wish. You go there and say 
 you have come to ask forgiveness, and 
 intend never more to desert the paternal 
 roof. And I'd keep my word, too, were I 
 you, unless he made it worth my while to 
 retract." 
 
 " 'Tis a mean thing to go home and
 
 THE PRODIGAL. 23 
 
 plead penitence when you have no more 
 money to spend ; and I won't play that 
 part of the prodigal son's career if I can 
 help it." 
 
 "But you can't help it, my young 
 friend." 
 
 " We shall see. If in a week's time no 
 better alternative can be found, I will throw 
 myself on my father's mercy." 
 
 There the conversation ended. 
 
 Mr. Tickel, on his way to the City to 
 get the money required by Blase, called in 
 at Wills' and spent a very pleasant hour 
 in gossip there. 
 
 " I would not willingly change this 
 mode of life for seclusion in that damp 
 moated house in Dorsetshire," he said to 
 himself, as he left the coffee-house. " And 
 I pray for the best. It may please Provi- 
 dence to change my young friend's luck 
 at play, and then we shall be at liberty to 
 postpone reformation."
 
 24 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 But Blase was determined to change 
 his long run of ill luck without trusting 
 to adventitious help. He stoutly resisted 
 the temptations of the tables, and at the 
 end of the week he bade the parson pack 
 his valise, and book two seats on the 
 Exeter coach.
 
 ( 25 ) 
 
 CHAPTER IT. 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT THE COCK INIf. 
 
 The Exeter coach stopped for two minutes 
 at the cross roads not far from that point 
 where the three coimties of Dorset, Devon, 
 and Somerset meet, and then continued its 
 journey, leaving the two London gentle- 
 men hj the finger-post. 
 
 Overhead a clear sky, underfoot a clean 
 hard road ; a bright atmosphere, with a 
 keen wind from the north, that carries the 
 golden leaves fluttering from the boughs, 
 and sweeps them into the tangled, ragged 
 growth of bramble and brake by the road- 
 side ; a long vista of richly tinted oak and 
 beech, with a patch of pink cloud at the
 
 26 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 end, against which the speeding coach 
 stands out in sharp-cut silhouette — these 
 things were worth a lingering look. 
 
 Blase Godwin thought so as he stood 
 there slowly drawing the rings of his 
 purse. " There's a picture we may not 
 see again for a twelvemonth," he said. 
 
 " And a d d good job too," replied 
 
 the Rev. Joseph Tickel, with energy; "I've 
 seen enough of that road and that coach 
 to last me to my dying day without a wish 
 to see them again. Turn about, my young 
 friend, and tell me if you don't find that 
 a more agreeable picture." He pointed 
 down the Rockford road, where, beyond 
 the curve by the horse-pond, and above 
 the neatly trimmed box hedge, appeared 
 the gables and smoking chimneys of the 
 Cock Inn. 
 
 "Do we not value a picture for what it 
 suggests ? " continued the divine. " And 
 what, pray, does your coach and your
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT THE COCK INN. 27 
 
 straight road convey to the mind but the 
 thought of a cramped seat and aching 
 bones, agues and rheums, upsets, highway- 
 men, and — death ? But that thick and 
 well-kept thatch bears a promise of shelter 
 and warmth ; and the smoke from those 
 chimneys conjures up the vision of a cool, 
 snowy table-cloth spread with substantial 
 fare — an aitchbone of beef, for example, 
 fat and not over-dressed, a brown toby of 
 foaming ale, with a crusty loaf and a blue 
 cheese in the background." 
 
 " Nature made a mistake when she put 
 your eyes in your head," said Blase, draw- 
 ing on his glove and still looking at the 
 landscape. 
 
 " Plague take the landlord, I say ! He 
 must have heard the horn ; then why 
 hasn't he sent a lad down for the luggage ? 
 Well, w^ell ! poor old Tickel must carry 
 the things, I suppose." 
 
 With these words the reverend gentle-
 
 28 A PRODIGAL^S PROGRESS. 
 
 man took up the two valises, which 
 contained his own and his companion's 
 travelling requisites, and trudged off to- 
 wards the inn. 
 
 They were large, well packed, and 
 heavy, those bags, and the parson was on 
 that side of fifty w^hen a man begins to 
 feel the effects of free living in an absence 
 of muscular vigour and sustaining power. 
 Doubtless he found his burden burdensome ; 
 but he did not complain, for exertion com- 
 pelled him to economize his breath, and 
 he was sufficiently philosophical to bear 
 unavoidable ills with resignation. A whis- 
 pered curse when he came to that part of 
 the road which had been lately dressed 
 with large and many-cornered stones, and 
 another when the bags, from merely 
 scraping his calves, took to swinging round 
 and dodging endwise between them — these 
 were all that escaped him. 
 
 Blase, although he suffered from none of
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT THE COCK INN. 29 
 
 those natural disadvantages which, handi- 
 capped the parson, made no attempt to 
 relieve him of his load, or carry his own 
 share. He would as soon have brushed his 
 boots. He sauntered easily and lightly along, 
 whistling a cheerful air and serenely in- 
 different to the parson's difficulties. When 
 Tickel stopped to set down his load, 
 straighten his back, and get breath, he still 
 sauntered whistling onward, leaving him 
 to catch up as he might. 
 
 Beyond the curve in the road the inn 
 came fairly into sight — a long, irregular 
 building, half-timbered, with tall gables, 
 each surmounted by a shining gold 
 weathercock. Everything bespoke a good 
 inn — clean paint, bright windows, spotless 
 curtains of dimity, a stand of geraniums 
 over the bay front of the long public room, 
 and in the bow window of the bar parlour 
 a goodly show of bottles and glasses, inter- 
 spersed with red apples, lemons, sticks of
 
 30 A PRODIGAL'S PEOGRESS. 
 
 cinnamon, and sprays of bay laurel. The 
 stable yard was full of carts and waggons, 
 showing that it was a busy day at the 
 Cock, and thereby explaining how the 
 coachman's horn had escaped notice. A 
 lad was carrying a faggot into the house, 
 and the windows of the parlour and long 
 room reflected the dancing light of the 
 fires within. It was a sight that gave 
 strength to the labouring parson, and he 
 struggled up to the side of Blase, saying, 
 between the necessary pauses for fetching 
 breath : 
 
 " There, my young friend ! — will you 
 talk to me now — of your highways, and 
 your coaches — and the like abominations ? 
 — Can im — agination conceive a — more 
 thrilling subject for — painter or poet, than 
 a — good comfortable English inn after 
 a fast of four hours — and a ride of forty 
 leagues — on a rumbling, jolting coach ? — ■ 
 Devil take the bags."
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT THE COCK INN. 31 
 
 But pleasant as the inn was externally, 
 it was still more delightful to the sensuous 
 soul of Mr. Tickel within. He raised his 
 head and inhaled the savoury odour that 
 came from the kitchen, which could be 
 seen at the end of the passage, with many 
 women-servants bustling to and fro, and 
 a laden spit turning slowly before a large 
 fire. He looked round with approval at 
 the cases of stuffed birds and beasts and 
 fishes that covered the walls, and lent his 
 ear to ihe cheerful clatter of knife and fork 
 and plate, which formed the accompani- 
 ment of laughter and high-pitched con- 
 versation that came from the long room, 
 where the company was assembled. 
 
 A servant led Blase to a private room, 
 while Mr. Tickel made his way into the 
 kitchen to make sure of their dinner. 
 
 " Just in the very nick of time," he said, 
 when he rejoined Blase ; " another five 
 minutes and the gentry in the long room
 
 32 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 would have cleared the spits for us. 
 However, I've secured half a roast pig, 
 and as pretty a little goose, with sage and 
 onions, and apple sauce, as ever you could 
 wish to see." 
 
 " That's very well to begin with." 
 
 " Oh, I looked after the accessories. 
 There's a damson tart and a boiled custard 
 to follow ; to say nothing of half a 
 Cheshire cheese, young celery, and a dish 
 of walnuts to go with the port." 
 
 " You shall ask a blessing, parson ; for, 
 without that, I fear this little dinner will 
 make us ill." 
 
 '^ I fear nothing. With a nip of French 
 brandy in the middle, and a pipe of tobacco 
 after, one may eat such a dinner and think 
 with gusto of a snack before going to bed." 
 
 " What's the company in the room 
 below. Did you hear ? " 
 
 '' Ay, and saw too. I caught a glimpse 
 of them as I passed from the kitchen ; as
 
 WHAT HArPENED AT THE COCK IXX. 33 
 
 jolly a crew of rogues and vagabonds as 
 you'll find out of Wapj)ing. There's been 
 a ring fight between Devon and Dorset, 
 for fifty guineas a side, and the victor and 
 his friends are being regaled by his backer 
 and patron, the squire.'' 
 
 " What squire ? Is he of this county ? " 
 " I suppose so, for Dorset is triumphant 
 below, and Devon is taken off to the 
 nearest doctor. I didn't hear his name, 
 but I saw him — a bloated pig of a man, 
 with a face so bleared and red, that I 
 should not have known him from the 
 boxer by his side, but for the dress of 
 the former, and a slice of raw beef tied 
 over the eye of the latter. The hero's 
 a butcher, if I may judge by his smock ; 
 and the squire's one of your old-fashioned 
 English gentlemen, who pride themselves 
 on being about thirty years behind the 
 times. He wears a full-bottomed wig and 
 a flowered coat. He had his arm round 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 the butcher's neck, and was feeding him 
 from his own plate like a child, the fellow's 
 knuckles being so cut about that he can't 
 help himself. It was enough to make one 
 die of laughing to see him." 
 
 " Enough to make one sick of disgust, 
 rather." 
 
 "Why, so it is, to be sure. Blase ; and the 
 sooner these rustics can be taught to fight 
 and get drunk like gentlemen the better." 
 
 Here the conversation was turned into 
 another channel by the arrival of dinner, 
 and was wholly gastronomic until the last 
 plate had been carried away. Mr. Tickel 
 loved to talk upon any subject, but most 
 he enjoyed that kind of table-talk which 
 refers to eating and drinking. It made 
 no difference to him that Blase only 
 answered direct questions, and these in 
 monosyllables ; he enlarged upon geese 
 and roast pig, with their sauces and 
 stuffings, and being well contented with
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT THE COCK INN. 35 
 
 what he himself said, had no reason to 
 remark his companion's silence, or think 
 the conversation nninteresting. Indeed, 
 Blase paid no more attention to the 
 parson's talk than he did to the noise 
 in the room below ; he heard both without 
 distinguishing the meaning of the sounds. 
 He had fallen into a reverie, and pursued 
 a vein of thought, irrespective of the 
 parson's endless disquisition. Suddenly, as 
 he was cracking a nut, and Tickel ceased 
 speaking to empty his glass, he said : 
 
 " How did you come to know my father, 
 parson ? " 
 
 " Know him, my young friend ? AVhy, 
 I know him no more than the pope. To 
 the best of my knowledge I've never 
 clapped eyes on him." 
 
 " Then how came you to be my governor 
 eight years ago ? " 
 
 " Sir Gilbert's chaplain, Father Do- 
 minick, engaged me."
 
 oG A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 " What do you know of him ? " 
 " Ahuost as little as I know of your 
 father." 
 
 " How did you become acquainted ? " 
 "Through a Mr. Pinx, who was a 
 gentleman commoner — a merry fellow, 
 and my friend in the old Oxford days. 
 But I was speaking, my young friend, of 
 an excellent method for the dressing of 
 mushrooms." 
 
 " And while you have been talking of 
 mushrooms, I have been thinking on my 
 past life. Had I enjoyed a sober moment 
 since coming to man's estate, I should have 
 thought upon it before now." 
 
 " You have much to be thankful for." 
 " Come, parson, be serious. I want to 
 know how you came to be my governor." 
 
 Mr. Tickel hesitated, first humming a 
 bar of " Bobbing Joan " as he peeled his 
 walnut, then casting a furtive glance of 
 his twinkling little grey eyes at Blase, as
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT THE COCK IXX. 37 
 
 if to make sure that he was in earnest, 
 and again fixing his attention upon the 
 walnut. Finally, he finished his port, 
 turned his chair about, set his feet on 
 the high brass fender, and twiddling his 
 thumbs slowly, said : 
 
 " There was a time, my young friend, 
 when your demand would haye necessitated 
 prevarication, but now that we know each 
 other so well, I see no occasion for reserve. 
 I was in trouble, Blase — in such trouble 
 that I could no longer look upon hardship 
 with philosopliical resignation. It seemed 
 to me that Heaven was unjustly severe in 
 punishing my faults, and I was tempted to 
 brave the everlasting displeasure by leap- 
 ing into the Thames, and terminating my 
 mortal misery. Fancy what starvation is 
 to a man of my stomach. I declare I have 
 eaten crusts that the beggars had cast 
 aside." 
 
 " But how came you to be so ]Door ? "
 
 38 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 " By my natural deficiency in cunning, 
 avarice, misanthropy, and such-like vices, 
 Blase. I will not pain you with a detailed 
 account of the events that led to my degra- 
 dation from the office of vicar in the parish 
 of St. Bidulph ; 'tis a tragic story of a bottle 
 and of a faithless woman, of a squeamish 
 congregation and of a heartless bishop ; 
 suffice it that I was compelled to quit the 
 vicarage, and all the little household 
 treasures it contained, together with my 
 wardrobe and library, in the dead of night, 
 and with not a penny in my pocket. For 
 the news having got abroad that I was 
 suspended, my creditors took out a writ 
 against me and put it in the hands of a 
 bum-bailiff, whom by a happy chance 1 
 saw from my parlour window lurking 
 under the tavern arch t'other side of the 
 road ; otherwise, instead of being here now, 
 I should probably have been rotting in the 
 Fleet. The shifts I was put to in order
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT THE COCK INN. 39 
 
 that I might live without money, would 
 make but a stale story, more instructive 
 than amusing. Let it pass. There came 
 a day when my last expedient failed, and 
 I starved. Then it was that I had the 
 good fortune to see my old fellow-com- 
 moner, Pinx. He had altered greatly, but 
 the eyes of the needy are ever quick to 
 recognize the traits of an old friend. It was 
 with more difficulty that I brought Pinx to 
 believe that I was in truth Joseph Tickel. 
 When, however, he was assured of my 
 identity he took me into a tavern, treated 
 me to a handsome dinner, promised to do 
 his best in my behalf, and slipped a couple 
 of guineas into my hand for present ne- 
 cessities. I saw he was a comfortable man, 
 and he told me he had settled at Rockford, 
 in Dorsetshire, as an attorney. He promised 
 to write as soon as he could find anything 
 to suit me, and four days after I found a 
 letter at the coffee-house bidding me meet
 
 40 A PRODrGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 him at Squire's coffee-house the following 
 Saturday, by eleven o'clock in the forenoon. 
 You may he sure I was not behind time. 
 Just after the stroke of the hour Pinx came 
 in, followed by a tall sallow man, whom 
 he introduced as Mr. Dominick. We sat 
 down all together at a table, and Mr. Do- 
 minick opened up the affair at once. He 
 told me he had heard the history of my 
 misfortunes, and found by inquiries that 
 the account of my transgressions was not 
 exaggerated. He said that although his 
 creed was opposed to mine, yet as it was 
 the duty of every Christian to raise the 
 fallen, and lead into the path of virtue 
 those who had strayed from it, he felt 
 moved to give me what assistance was in 
 his power, trusting that the punishment 
 it had pleased Heaven to inflict upon me 
 would serve as a warning for the future. I 
 assured him with all the eloquence I could 
 command that my penitence was sincere
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT THE COCK INN. 41 
 
 — and indeed, Blase, I did not overstep 
 the truth ; for who should more repent 
 his follies than he who is paying the 
 penalty of 'em ? Mr. Dominick then told 
 me that the post he intended for me was 
 that of governor to a young gentleman 
 who was leaving college to make the grand 
 tour. If yon believe me, Blase, I was 
 like one stupefied to hear this unexpected 
 announcement ; for I had looked at the 
 best to being made a clerk, a bailiff, a 
 butler, and I assure you I wouldn't have 
 rejected the office of turn-spit at that time. 
 ' The name of the young gentleman about 
 to be placed in your care,' said Mr. 
 Dominick, ' is Blase Godwin ; he is the son 
 of Sir Gilbert Godwin, baronet, whose 
 chaplain I am. Mr. Blase has estranged 
 himself from his father by the violence of 
 his temper, by the wildness of his incli- 
 nations, and by his apostasy to that re- 
 ligion which it has been the pride of the
 
 42 A PEODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Grodwin family to sustain ; nevertheless he 
 desires that his education shall want no- 
 thing to make him worthy of the title he 
 must one day possess, and to that end he 
 would have him visit the principal cities 
 of Europe not closed by hostilities, and 
 partake freely in those amusements which 
 are suitable to young men of his age and 
 condition. For these purposes he will be 
 amply supplied with money. Should he 
 require more than he carries with him, 
 you have but to write to me and bills for 
 the sum wanted will be forwarded by 
 courier. Your own expenses will of course 
 be paid, and in addition you will receive 
 sixty pounds per annum. Your debts in 
 London shall also be discharged.' These 
 were the very words he used, for they 
 made such an impression upon my mind 
 at the time, that I do believe they will 
 never be effaced from my memory. And 
 thus, my young friend, was I raised from
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT THE COCK INN. 43 
 
 disgrace and destitution, to a position of 
 ease and trust." 
 
 " And this he did, knowing how you left 
 St. Bidulph's ? " 
 
 " This he did, maugre the most damn- 
 ing facts, and the most damnable fiction 
 my enemies could find to my discredit. 
 Such was his charity." 
 
 " Such was his villainy rather," cried 
 Blase, grasping the poker and giving the 
 fire a furious dig. 
 
 *' I have since considered his action im- 
 prudent. Blase." 
 
 " Nonsense ! That papist is too crafty 
 for imprudence. 'Twas a scheme for my 
 destruction." 
 
 " What then, lad ? " cried Tickel in an 
 altered voice, turning with affectionate 
 warmth towards Blase. " What has the 
 furnace done but proved the metal ste"*^- 
 ling ? " 
 
 Blase laughed contemptuously. The
 
 44 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 parson after a minute of grave silence 
 said : 
 
 ''Perhaps my meaner vices have served 
 in the place of virtues, Blase, and warned 
 you from following in my footsteps." 
 
 " I have never thought so unkindly, 
 parson. God forbid you should be worse 
 than I deem myself. But I say again, 
 'twas a villainous thing to do, and the act 
 of Father Dominick was only less cruel 
 than his intent. For what surer means 
 could a man desire for the ruin of a high- 
 spirited, reckless lad of twenty, than to 
 put an almost unlimited supply of money 
 at his disposal, and place him under the 
 sole control of a man with the reputation 
 for loose living that you bore ? " 
 
 " Looked at from your point of view, 
 'twas as sinful a piece of charity as one can 
 imagine. But it seems to me your father 
 was not blameless." 
 
 "My father was ever under the dominion
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT THE COCK IXX. 45 
 
 of his chaplain. What the priest advised, 
 my father acceded to. You may be sure 
 Father Dominick was not wanting in 
 specious arguments to justify his actions." 
 
 " What reason has he, think you, Blase, 
 for wishing your ruin ? " 
 
 " That is what perplexes me. But I'll 
 find out, and expose his villainy to my 
 father." 
 
 " For the Lord's sake be careful, my boy. 
 Let us get the old gentleman's forgiveness 
 before we show him what a fool he's been." 
 
 Blase made no response, and both became 
 silent. 
 
 The mirth in the long room below^ had 
 grown more and more boisterous during 
 the last half-hour ; and now a song was 
 succeeded by such a roar of acclamation, 
 mingled with clapping of hands, stamping 
 of feet, and jingling of glasses, that they 
 could not have conversed had they been 
 minded to. The clamour was intolerable
 
 46 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 to Blase, whose irritated mind needed calm 
 for reflection. Turning impatiently to Mr. 
 Tickel, he said : 
 
 " This is insupportable. Go downstairs, 
 parson, and if you judge that the riot is 
 likely to continue, order a chaise and let 
 us get on at once." 
 
 After a brief absence Mr. Tickel re- 
 turned, and said that as far as he could 
 judge the company was not likely to give 
 over drinking until the cellar was empty, 
 and that no conveyance was to be had 
 for love or money, every nag in the stables 
 being engaged — " Thank Heaven ! " he mur- 
 mured under his breath. 
 
 " But," added he, " the squire, hearing 
 there were visitors in the house, very 
 civilly begged the host to j)^esent his 
 compliments and ask us to do him the 
 honour of drinking a sneaker of punch 
 in his company." 
 
 As Blase had not yet overcome his love
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT THE COCK INX. 47 
 
 of company, and, like an old soldier, greatly 
 preferred mixing in the thick of the melee 
 to standing hard by inactive, he consented, 
 after a few moments' consideration, to ac- 
 cept the invitation — an invitation, by-the- 
 by, which originated entirely from the 
 landlord, the squire being too drunk to 
 compose an intelligible sentence or to dis- 
 tinguish one of his guests from another. 
 
 The two gentlemen then descended and 
 entered the long room, where the landlord 
 was at that moment singing the conclud- 
 ing stanza of a new song upon the victory 
 of Lord Howe over the Dutch, set to the 
 old tune of " When friends combine," and 
 seated themselves beside him at the foot 
 of the table, in the chairs placed for them 
 by the drawer. 
 
 A dense , cloud of tobacco smoke hung 
 over the company ; the four candles slug- 
 gishly burning in the heavy atmosphere 
 gave so feeble a light that the eye had
 
 48 A PRODIGAL'S PEOGRESS. 
 
 to grow accustomed to the obscurity to 
 distinguish the surrounding objects. A 
 confused glimmer of faces along the ^ark 
 oak table turned towards the singer was 
 all that Blase saw at first. The landlord, 
 a burly man, stood with a candle drawn 
 near him, and the song, printed on a long 
 slip of thin paper and folded, held at arm's 
 length, and a little beyond the wick of 
 the candle. His cravat was loosened, and 
 he marked emphasis to the words he sang 
 with the stem of the long clay pipe in 
 his left hand. A bowl of punch stood 
 before him. Another bowl was placed at 
 the further end of the board before the 
 squire, whose bald head was pillowed on 
 his arms, which were crossed upon the 
 table : a careful waiter had tied his wig 
 to the back rail of his chair. Down the 
 table were opposite rows of brown mugs 
 and papers of tobacco ; behind them lines 
 of white pipes led up to lines of red faces.
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT THE COCK INN. 49 
 
 all more or less brutal in their fleshiness 
 and their absence of expression. 
 
 " Chorus, gentlemen, if you please," said 
 the landlord, having finished his stanza ; 
 and he held the song so that Blase and the 
 parson might get the benefit of it. Then 
 there was a movement in the lines of pipes, 
 and the company roared out in such words 
 as they could remember, and such melody 
 as they could make, the chorus in which 
 the new-comers were supposed to join. 
 
 Mr. Tickel fell into the humour at once, 
 and lifting up his voice sang : 
 
 "Then fill up your mugs to the health of Lord 
 Howe, 
 And so let our enemies come ; 
 While long may Ihey flourish, the spade and the 
 plough. 
 So here's to the fife and the drum." 
 
 When this had been repeated twice, 
 there was a moment of stillness only 
 broken by a loud snore from the squire, 
 and then the applause rose in a deafening 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 A PRODIGAL'S PEOGRESS. 
 
 tumult of sound, while the landlord, radiant 
 but self-possessed, seated himself and relit 
 his pipe with the philosophic calm of a 
 man accustomed to singing a good song, 
 and receivinsT due acknowledcrment. 
 
 " As pretty an inconsequent chorus as 
 ever I read," said Mr. Tickel. 
 
 " Yes. sir, 'tis a noble song ; and if I 
 could only find a rhyme to Duncan, it 
 would fit well for this new victory, as our 
 fleet has made over the foreigner." 
 
 Some one rose at the further end of the 
 table and said 
 
 " Master landlord, zir, you do ought to 
 zing thic thare zong again." 
 
 A smoker on the other side of the table 
 seconded the proposal, adding that 'twas a 
 mortal pity the squire slept so sound he 
 couldn't hear it. 
 
 " Eight you are. Master Tomkuns ; 
 zpecially as 'tis all about vightun. 'T would 
 suit his honour s lardship better 'an most.
 
 ^'HAT HAPPENED AT THE COCK INN. 51 
 
 Tor I du think there bean't a mortal man 
 so Yond o' vightun as what he be." 
 
 '• Why. I do mind as he's guv two 
 hund'ed pound to thic thare sumscription 
 for vightun the French ; and like enough 
 'tis true, for I've known un to spend a 
 matter of ten pound a nieht on a covey of 
 partridges and a zettun dog. Lor' a mussy. 
 how he do snoare, to he zure ! " 
 
 •• Well, if you will have the song again, 
 gentlemen,*' the landlord said, seeing that 
 the conversation was drifting away from 
 his performance. 
 
 " Squire should hear it, though," remon- 
 strated Mr. Tompkins. " Gi* un a dig i' 
 the ribs, butcher." 
 
 •• Ha Her in his ear ; he'll be right mad 
 marrow marn to think there's been a zong 
 about vightun and he not hearn it. Cry 
 Tallyhow ; that'll rouse un ! " 
 
 The butcher, whose hands, still suffering 
 from the encounter of the afternoon, were 
 
 rvX^OMLUNO-S
 
 52 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 bandaged with a belcher, gave the squire 
 a vigorous nudge in the side with his 
 elbow, at the same time crying — 
 
 " Yoicks ! Your worshup, Tallyhow ! 
 Tallyhow ! Sir Gilbert." 
 
 At this sound the squire lifted his head, 
 and before he could drop it again the 
 landlord recommenced his song. 
 
 Blase looked steadily at the dazed, 
 bloated, sensual face at the other end of 
 the table, and then pushed back his chair 
 and marched out of the room. 
 
 " What's the matter, my young friend ; 
 what's amiss ? " asked Mr. Tickel, over- 
 taking him at the door. 
 
 " What's amiss ? " cried Blase, fiercely. 
 " Don't you see ; didn't you hear ? The 
 pig you spoke of is my father."
 
 ( 53 ) 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AN EXTRAORDIXARY ENCOUNTER WHICH 
 HAPPENED ON THE ROAD TO ROCKFORD. 
 
 " How far is it to tile next inn on the road 
 to Rockford ? " Blase asked of the landlady, 
 who was reposing after her labours in the 
 bar parlour. 
 
 " A matter of four mile, sir." 
 
 " We will walk it, parson." 
 
 "With those bags, Blase?" asked Mr. 
 Tickel, in a tone of dismay. 
 
 " Curse the bags ; let a boy carry them." 
 
 "I'd rather carry them myself; there's 
 not a stable-boy in the kingdom that isn't 
 in league with a highwayman." 
 
 " As you please. Stay here if you will. 
 I cannot."
 
 54 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 " Stop here without jou ? Not I. Wait, 
 I will put a few things in one valise, and 
 we can send for the rest to-morrow." 
 
 Blase turned away impatiently, paid his 
 score, and left the inn. Outside he walked 
 up and down until Mr. Tickel, having hur- 
 riedly made his arrangements, joined him. 
 
 " I have brought your pocket-pistols, 
 my young friend," he said, handing the 
 weapons carefully to Blase. " Have a 
 care ; they are charged. Look to the 
 priming before we get out of the light. 
 Heaven grant you may not have to use 
 'em ! Won't you borrow a lanthorn, 
 Blase ? 'tis awesome dark." 
 
 " Pooh ! The road is clear enough. 
 We've need neither of pistols nor lan- 
 thorn ; we shall meet no one. Come, you 
 are not an old woman." 
 
 " I wish I were with all my heart ; I 
 shouldn't be called upon to walk four 
 country miles along a murderous bye-road
 
 AN EXTRAORDIXARY ENCOUNTER. 55 
 
 at seven o'clock of a dark night. And let 
 me tell you, Blase, that you are doing 
 wrong to leave your father in this manner, 
 and that I consider your action inconsistent 
 with your professions of reformation." 
 
 " What do you mean, sir ? " 
 
 " Don't be angry, my young friend. 
 You have laid the blame of your ruin 
 upon my shoulders, and reproached me 
 with having neglected to put a check upon 
 your youthful follies. I may have been 
 over lenient ; but I cannot see you evading 
 what I may call a sacred duty without 
 protest. It was your duty to reconcile 
 your father and obtain his forgiveness, and 
 you have neglected your best opportunity ; 
 for what better could you have than when 
 the old gentleman is in his cups. You 
 should have stuck to him Blase, gone home 
 with him, and never left him till you had 
 his forgiveness and a thumping bill on his 
 banker."
 
 56 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 " 'Tis no longer a question of asking his 
 foro^iveness," Blase said sternlv. 
 
 " Why, no. You have the advantage of 
 him now, to be sure ; and if you can only 
 get at him before he has got over this 
 bout, you may make a merit of overlooking 
 his faults and taking a couple of thousand 
 or so to say no more about it." 
 
 Blase gave himself up to his own sombre 
 reflections, and paid no heed to the parson, 
 who. from his early vocation as a preacher 
 at St. Bidulph's, had used himself to 
 inattention, and was content to deliver 
 his wise observations to his own apprecia- 
 tive ear, and so beguile the tedious hour. 
 
 They proceeded in this manner for 
 about a couple of miles, and then coming 
 to a steep hill the parson's monologue 
 became disjointed, and finally stopped as 
 they approached the brow. There his 
 laboured breathing attracting the attention 
 of Blase, he proposed that they should
 
 AX EXTEAORDIXAEY EXCOUXTEE. 57 
 
 rest awhile, and the parson being nothing 
 loath they seated themselves on a felled 
 tree by the roadside. 
 
 The road before them was level and 
 straight. On one side it lay open to a 
 patch of ragged, waste land ; on the other 
 it skirted a wood. The moon had risen 
 above the horizon, and although it was 
 yet shrouded by a bank of cloud, it shed 
 sufficient light to reveal " the road for 
 some distance ahead. There was not the 
 slightest motion in the trees or the fallen 
 leaves by the roadside, for the wind had 
 dropped. Suddenly the T'O.rsL'n. who had 
 been mopping the perspirLi::-;. :: jm his 
 face with an occasional "pish" and --phew.** 
 stopped abruptly as a sharp metallic click 
 caueht his ear. and turnins^ to Blase asked 
 in a smothered tone of alarm : 
 
 *' What was that. Bla>e?'' 
 
 Blase had his hands in his pockets, 
 whence came another click as he replied :
 
 58 A PEODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 " Nothing to be alarmed about ; as I 
 carry pistols tbey may as Avell be cocked. 
 There's somebody on the road before us ! " 
 
 " Grood Lord, deliver us ! " murmured the 
 parson fervently, as lie looked along the 
 road. 
 
 " Come along," Blase said, rising. 
 
 " "What madness ! Let us get behind a 
 thicket until the road is clear." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " laughed Blase. " What, 
 man ! afraid of a couple of yokels returning 
 from their labour ? " 
 
 " Labourers going home two hours after 
 sundown! Nothing of the sort. There's 
 not an honest rustic that isn't abed and 
 asleep by this time." 
 
 " This is odd," said Blase, stepping on 
 one side and looking along the road. " I 
 saw two figures distinctly when we were 
 seated a minute ago, and now I can see 
 
 none." 
 
 '*An ambush, I'll stake my life. For
 
 AN EXTEAOEDINARY ENCOUNTER. 59 
 
 the love of Heaven let us get into the 
 wood." 
 
 " Not I. The probability is that they 
 are as afraid of us as you of them, and 
 have taken to the wood themselves." 
 
 " Let us hide t'other side, then. Here's 
 a thicket most convenient." 
 
 Disregarding the parson's suggestion, 
 Blase walked on with his hands in his 
 pockets and his fingers on the triggers of 
 his pistols, while Mr. Tickel made for 
 the protection of the thicket. Thence he 
 watched the advance of Blase until his 
 figure grew indistinct and it seemed to 
 him that he had passed the dangerous 
 point at which the two men had disap- 
 peared. Then the dread of being left to 
 follow alone, and the possibility of being 
 discovered in his hiding-place, forced him 
 to the desperate resolution of taking to 
 the road again and overtaking Blase as 
 quickly as possible. His tongue clave to
 
 60 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 the roof of his mouth, his knees knocked 
 against each other as he moved, the hlood 
 sang in his ears as he stepped out into 
 the open part. It was, however, en- 
 couraging to see that Blase was waiting 
 for him, standing in the middle of the 
 road a hundred yards in advance, and he 
 hurried forward as quickly as his trem- 
 bling legs could carry him. 
 
 But scarcely had he made a dozen steps 
 when there was a flash that seemed to 
 blind him, a bang that stunned him, and 
 from the wood in front a couple of men 
 sprang into the road roaring to him to 
 yield his money or his life. With a 
 presence of mind which, when he came to 
 look back upon the affair, the parson 
 regarded as nothing less than astonishing, 
 he dropped the valise, turned about, and 
 took to his heels. 
 
 The footpads made no attempt to over- 
 take him, being more concerned in their
 
 AN EXTRAORDINARY ENCOUNTER. 61 
 
 own safety ; for scarcely had they scrambled 
 through the brambles and into the road, 
 than they perceived Blase bearing down 
 upon them with all speed. 
 
 He who had fired at once made a leap to 
 get over the briers and into the wood, and 
 the other, grabbing up the valise, was about 
 to follow, when Blase, having got within a 
 dozen yards, stopped, fired, and had the 
 good fortune to send a ball through the 
 rascal's leg. With a howl of pain and 
 fright he dropped the valise, leapt into the 
 wood, and disappeared. 
 
 Blase listened. A faint " tippity-top, 
 tippity-top " down the hill told him that 
 the parson was still in full retreat ; but 
 for a second or two no other sound reached 
 his ear. Then a movement among the 
 brambles by the roadside, with the snap- 
 ping of twigs, attracted his attention ; and 
 as he drew towards the spot a voice cried, 
 " Quarter, your honour — quarter ! "
 
 62 A PRODIGAL'S PEOGRESS. 
 
 " Come out, rascal," said Blase ; and 
 at this bidding the man who had first 
 fled disentangled his foot from the growth 
 that had tripped him up, rose from the 
 ground, and presented himself before Blase 
 with his empty hands extended. "Who 
 was it fired ? " asked Blase. 
 
 " I fired, sir." 
 
 " Is the other rascal armed ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; we had but the one pistol, 
 and that's in the bush there somewhere." 
 
 Satisfied of the parson's safety. Blase 
 bade the man pick up the valise and march 
 on in front, promising to put a ball into 
 his body if he attempted to escape. 
 
 Without a word the man took up the 
 valise which his fellow had dropped, and 
 then marched on in front. Blase tried to 
 get a glimpse of his face, but the light 
 was insufficient, and moreover the man 
 hung his head either from shame or pur- 
 posely to conceal his features. It was
 
 AN EXTRAOEDINARY ENCOUNTER. 63 
 
 noticeable that he did not speak like a 
 countryman, nor with the raking voice 
 of an habitual criminal ; his figure was 
 that of a man of forty ; a rolling gait 
 and a pigtail gave him the appearance of 
 a seaman. It seemed to Blase that he 
 must be a footpad rather from necessity 
 than choice, and he was beginning to ques- 
 tion what he ought to do with his prisoner, 
 when the man, stopping and turning about, 
 said : 
 
 " Master, what are you going to do 
 with me ? " 
 
 " My present intention is to hand you 
 over to the first constable I can find." 
 
 " That is to say, you will have me 
 hanged. But you spoke just now of 
 putting lead into me." 
 
 " If you try to escape, I certainly will," 
 said Blase ; and he took out his pistol, for 
 the man had set down the valise. 
 
 " You are a fair shot, master — I saw that
 
 64 A PKODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 by the way you nicked my mate under 
 disadvantages — and the only favour I'll 
 ask you is to cover me well on the head 
 or the heart before you fire, kick my corpse 
 into a ditch after, and say nothing about it 
 at the inn along the road here. Do this for 
 the sake of charity, and Grod will bless you 
 for it. Take aim, master, for I am going." 
 
 He moved slowly towards the ditch by 
 the road as he spoke, with his arms behind 
 him and his head up, that Blase might not 
 miss his aim. 
 
 " Wait," said Blase ; " I am not an 
 executioner. I shall not fire to kill 
 you." 
 
 " 'Twill be a refinement of cruelty, sir, 
 to wound me with a ball to-night that I 
 may be hung with a rope to-morrow." 
 
 The words and the manner in which 
 they were spoken were to Blase conclusive 
 evidence that the man was no ordinary 
 footpad.
 
 AN EXTEAOEDINAKY ENCOUNTEE. 65 
 
 " And if I kill you, why do you wish 
 the people of the inn to know nothing 
 of it?" 
 
 "My daughter lies there, and" — he spoke 
 with effort — "the poor child loves me." 
 
 " Then she does not know the way of 
 life you have taken to ? " 
 
 " Not she — a little fool ! " He passed the 
 back of his forefinger over his cheek. 
 " She's just as fond as her mother was ; 
 though perhaps other women are no wiser, 
 for which of 'em will believe wrong of a 
 husband or a father that she loves ? " 
 
 Blase put the pistol in his pocket. 
 
 " If this is not a lie you shall get no 
 harm from me," he said. " Come, we will 
 go to the inn together." 
 
 The man accepted this proposal without 
 the slightest sign of reluctance, and further 
 expressed his gratitude in a few broken 
 sentences with such emotion that Blase 
 felt convinced of his sincerity, and was 
 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 prompted as much by sympathy as curi- 
 osity to inquire, after they had walked 
 some paces side by side in silence, through 
 what accident he had come to attempt the 
 robbery. 
 
 "Is this the first robbery you have at- 
 tempted ? " he asked. 
 
 " The first, upon my soul, as it shall be 
 the last," replied the man. 
 
 " Who was your accomplice ? " 
 
 " A man of these parts, whom I met by 
 
 one of those unfortunate accidents which 
 
 have beset me through life, and brought 
 
 me to my present condition. 'Twas he 
 
 who proposed the expedition, setting forth 
 
 how, by a little noise and bluster, we might 
 
 succeed in extorting a few crowns from a 
 
 party of country gentlemen, who about 
 
 this time should be returning from a ring 
 
 fight, and would in all likelihood be so 
 
 overcome with liquor that they could ofi'er 
 
 no resistance, nor detect that our intentions
 
 AN EXTRAOKDINAEY ENCOUNTER. 67 
 
 were less murderous than they appeared. 
 For I assure you, sir, the pistol which my 
 acquaintance had employed for the scaring 
 of crows was charged only with powder. 
 The events which led to my accepting this 
 proposal, although they cannot exonerate 
 me, might be accepted as an excuse for my 
 fault; and for that reason, sir, I shall be 
 glad to recount them if you will have the 
 patience to hear me."
 
 68 A PRODiaAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 JOHN HUTCHINS MAKES A CURIOUS REVE- 
 LATION. 
 
 Blase said he should be glad to hear of 
 any redeeming circumstances. 
 
 " Well, sir," said the man, " I will begin 
 by telling you that my name is John 
 Hutchins, and I was born on the day 
 his present majesty came to the throne. 
 My father was a mercer in Holborn, and 
 although himself a thrifty and industrious 
 man of business, he was excessively indul- 
 gent to me, and allowed me to indulge 
 in pleasures which gave me an abiding 
 distaste for hard work. When his friends 
 remonstrated, he would say, ^ Let the lad 
 have his fling; many a good horse is
 
 A CUKIOUS REVELATION. 69 
 
 spoiled by being put too young to the 
 collar.' And so matters went on until my 
 poor father being seized with a disorder 
 of the inside which carried him off in four 
 and twenty hours, I, at the age of eighteen, 
 was called upon to direct a business of 
 which I knew nothing, and which I 
 cordially detested. For some months the 
 new pleasure of gaining money kept me 
 to my shop, but at the end of that time 
 the old pleasure of spending it took me 
 away. Little by little I neglected my 
 affairs, flntil the time came when I spent 
 every night of the week in idle pleasures, 
 leaving my shop to the mercy of servants, 
 who, I need not tell you, sir, fleeced me 
 right and left. To cap my folly, I became 
 enamoured of a young lady. Miss Betsy 
 Warren, who was then pla^ang small parts 
 at the little theatre in the Hay market, and 
 before I was twenty years of age, I made 
 her my wife, and insisted upon her retiring
 
 70 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 from the stage, where she received too 
 many compliments from the gentlemen for 
 my peace of mind. To reconcile her to her 
 loss in that respect, I took a handsome 
 country house at Hackney, and set up a 
 chariot in which I drove to my business 
 in Holborn. You can understand, sir, 
 that no business in the world can be con- 
 ducted long in this fashion, and that the 
 tradesman who cannot reconcile himself to 
 living over his shop, need take but a short 
 lease of his house. My custom fell off, my 
 creditors became suspicious, and such was 
 the state into which my books had fallen 
 that I could not tell how I stood. How- 
 ever, one morning, while I was still abed 
 at Hackney, a foot messenger came with 
 the news that my house in Holborn was 
 burned to the ground. Then my creditors 
 took my affairs into their own hands, and 
 after some little delay, it was found that 
 my debts exceeded my assets by a thousand
 
 A CURIOUS REYELATIOK 71 
 
 pounds, and it was only by the leniency of 
 my creditors that I escaped being thrown 
 into prison for debt. With tears of morti- 
 fication and regret in my eyes, I put my 
 Betsy, and our daughter, then an infant 
 in arms, into a hackney coach, and bade 
 the driver carry us to Dean Street, in Soho, 
 where my wife's mother was then living. 
 From her we could expect but little, for the 
 old lady was paralyzed and had no more 
 money than was sufficient to maintain her- 
 self; but I proposed to leave my wife and 
 child in her care for a few days, while I 
 went into the country to beseech the help 
 of my sister-in-law, Harriet. This sister, 
 I must tell you, had also played at the 
 theatre, but, with better fortune than my 
 poor Betsy, had married a country baronet. 
 Sir Gilbert Godwin, who has a seat about 
 a dozen miles from here, and is the very 
 man my confederate and I were about to 
 waylay this evening."
 
 72 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Involuntarily Blase made an exclamation 
 of surprise at hearing his father's name in 
 connection with this history. 
 
 " 'Tis odd indeed, sir," continued Hut- 
 chins, putting his own construction upon the 
 cry — " yes, odd indeed, that you find me 
 this night prepared to rob a man whom I 
 may call my brother-in-law ; but I hope to 
 explain it clearly to you. I myself had 
 seen neither the baronet nor my sister-in- 
 law Harriet, for she was married and 
 removed from the stage some time before 
 I became acquainted with my Betsy ; and 
 the reason that I went instead of my wife 
 to beg her assistance, was, that Harriet 
 being of a violent temper, and my wife 
 none of the most submissive characters in 
 the world, the two hated each other in- 
 tensely, and never met without quarrelling. 
 At Godwin's Moat — ^which I must tell you, 
 sir, is the name of this baronet's seat — I 
 was met by the baronet's cha23lain, a papist
 
 A CUPvIOUS REVELATION. 73 
 
 named Father Dominick, who refused to let 
 ine see the baronet or his wife, but promised 
 to help me if I would return to London 
 immediately and await his arrival. I ac- 
 cepted this condition, and the day after my 
 return to London, he met us in Dean Street, 
 and offered to give us three hundred 
 pounds if we in return would give him our 
 solemn promise never again to importune 
 Harriet or make ourselves known to her 
 husband. I would have taken my oath on 
 the spot, but my wife stoutly refused to 
 make any such promise. ' Yery good,' said 
 Father Dominick, ' then I shall trust to 
 your generosity and to your self-interest ; 
 for mark me,' said he, laying the notes on 
 the table and holding up his forefinger in 
 admonition, ' if you attempt to interfere 
 with the peace of Sir Gilbert Godwin or 
 his lady, I shall terminate the persecution 
 in a manner which will cause you to repent 
 your act to the end of your life.' My
 
 74 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 wife was greatly impressed with this 
 threat, for she knew something of the 
 man's temper and disposition, and was 
 convinced that he would hesitate at no 
 means that would answer his purpose. 
 'Twas his axiom that the end justifies the 
 means. 
 
 " My wife went back to the theatre, 
 where I also obtained employment at a 
 small remuneration ; but poverty could not 
 cure me of extravagance, and my wife was 
 just as careless as I ; so that when, in the 
 spring of 1790, I fell sick of the small-pox, 
 we hadn't enough money between us to 
 pay a nurse to watch by me while my wife 
 went to the play-house, and but for the 
 generosity of Mr. Colman, I know not how 
 our immediate necessities would have been 
 tided over. When my wife dared not tax 
 his kindness any further, she resolved, 
 despite her fear of Father Dominick, to 
 apply again to her sister. Eleven years
 
 A CUEIOUS EEYELATIOX. 75 
 
 had passed since we received the first gift, 
 and during that time we had neither seen 
 nor heard anything of Harriet or Father 
 Dominick; but my wife still feared the 
 man, and only her concern for me made her 
 overcome her disinclination to encounter 
 his displeasure. She wrote to her sister : 
 Father Dominick replied to her letter in 
 person. He refused to give anything, but 
 offered to lend another sum of three 
 hundred pounds on her note of hand pay- 
 able at three months. My poor Betsy 
 wrote the note as he bade her, and took 
 the money. 
 
 " Well, sir, the consequence of this act 
 you shall presently see. Three months 
 later, I was allured into Wapping by a 
 letter holding out the prospect of an 
 engagement, and there seized by a press- 
 gang ; and in reply to a letter I addressed 
 from Spithead to my wife, I received the 
 terrible news that she was imprisoned in
 
 76 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 the Fleet for the debt to Father Dominick. 
 Thus had this man executed his threat. Ill 
 luck attended me even at sea, but of that I 
 will say nothing. I have only to tell that, 
 my time being up, I obtained my discharge, 
 and hurrying on to London arrived there 
 only in time to see my poor Betsy's corpse. 
 She had died of privation, and a disease 
 of the lungs brought on by the miasma 
 of that dreadful prison. I had not even 
 the sad consolation of hearing her bid me 
 adieu, or of catching the parting smile 
 upon her wasted cheek — once so fresh and 
 full. Happily for her, poor soul, our little 
 Peggy was with her at the last, and re- 
 ceived the sweet message of remembrance 
 she left for me." 
 
 Hutchins ceased to speak, but after a 
 few minutes' silence, he sobbed once or 
 twice like a child that has wept. Then he 
 pulled out his handkerchief, and wiping his 
 eyes, impatiently said :
 
 A CURIOUS REVELATION. 77 
 
 " Where's the use of crying ? the poor 
 soul suffers no more. There's an end of it ; 
 nothing can bring her back to me, or undo 
 the past. Well, sir, to get back to my 
 yarn, as we sailors call it. When I had 
 buried my poor Betsy, I left my child in 
 good hands, and went to the pay-ofSce to 
 draw my money, where I met a couple of 
 my messmates, who persuaded me after- 
 wards to go to a tavern, and forget my 
 troubles over a can of flip, and drink better 
 luck for the future. But the drink was 
 far from bringing me better luck, and 
 when we separated, I felt that I had taken 
 more than was good for me. As I was 
 going along, trying to walk straight and 
 look sober, and fetching myself up against 
 a post when I found myself steering out 
 of the course, a sleek old gentleman with 
 a clergyman's hat and bands took me by 
 the arm, and begged me to take a cup of 
 coffee to dissipate the effect of the strong
 
 78 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 liquor, telling me that lie was a missionary 
 set to watch for tars leaving the pay-office, 
 and protect them from the robbers that 
 beset them. I thanked him for his kind- 
 ness, telling him that I had great need to 
 take care of my money, and was sorry to 
 find I had drunk too much ; and we stepped 
 into a coffee-house, when he called for two 
 dishes of coffee, and was particular to stir 
 up my portion, and see that it was not too 
 hot before I tasted it; then he bade me 
 drink it off, and began a long sermon, in 
 the midst of which I fell asleep. When I 
 awoke he was gone, and so was my money. 
 I thought I should go mad under this com- 
 bination of misfortunes, and indeed I be- 
 lieve that I was for some days not master 
 of myself. An awful desire to take the life 
 of the man who had been instrumental to 
 my wife's death possessed me, and I believe 
 that if I had met him then I should have 
 torn him to pieces ; and this mad thirst for
 
 A CURIOUS EEYELATION. 79 
 
 vengeance was still upon me when I set 
 out from London with my daughter to 
 walk hither. I had some loose silver which 
 had escaped the hands of the wretch who 
 drugged me in the coffee-house, and this 
 afforded us shelter and food until we 
 arrived here, where the last shilling was 
 paid for our dinner. But, thanks be to 
 God, my bloody intentions towards Father 
 Dominick have passed away, through the 
 influence of my Peggy; for, looking in her 
 young face, I think of her mother's fate, 
 of the dangers that surround her, and my 
 duty to shield her. But do not conclude, 
 sir, that because I have overcome my in- 
 clinations to do that wicked papist a bodily 
 mischief I hate him less, and cease to 
 harbour feelings of revenge. I have not 
 the Christian temper to forgive him the in- 
 juries he has done me and mine. I will not 
 leave this place until I have punished him." 
 "My poor fellow," said Blase kindly,
 
 80 A PRODIGAL'S PrxOGRESS. 
 
 " what power have you to punish this 
 man, except by brute force ? Could you 
 prove that he was instrumental to your 
 imprisonment, and that the loan to your 
 wife was but a trick to confine her within 
 the walls of a prison, the law would not 
 touch him, and he can defy public indigna- 
 tion while he is under the protection of 
 Sir Gilbert." 
 
 "It is that protection that I will over- 
 throw. It is through Sir Gilbert he shall 
 be punished. I have not told you why 
 Father Dominick was so anxious that I 
 should be shot at sea, and that my wife 
 should end her days in a gaol — why he 
 insisted upon our entire separation from 
 Sir Gilbert Godwin. It was because we 
 possessed a secret which he feared my 
 wife's impetuous tongue would reveal ; 
 a secret which, revealed to Sir Gilbert, 
 would have ruined his priest. The three 
 hundred pounds he gave us in our first
 
 A CURIOUS EEVELATION. 81 
 
 need was hush-money. This secret you 
 shall know, and you may then judge if 
 I have no power to punish that villain. 
 I have told you that Harriet played at 
 the same theatre with Betsy, that they 
 were rivals, and hated each other. They 
 vied with each other in the costliness 
 of their dresses, but Harriet was the 
 less scrupulous in the way she obtained 
 them. She received presents from a 
 gentleman who came up at intervals from 
 the country, on the pretext of business ; 
 and she was in effect his mistress. These 
 facts were known to Betsy, for it was 
 impossible for one sister to guard a single 
 circumstance of her life from the jealous 
 eye of the other ; and she discovered, 
 further, that the gentleman's name was 
 Dominick, and that he was the chaplain of 
 Sir Gilbert Godwin of Godwin's Moat, in 
 Dorsetshire. This acquaintance lasted for 
 a year, and then Harriet won another lover, 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 and this was none other than Sir Gilbert 
 Godwin himself. The fact was perfectly 
 well known to Father Dominick, but the 
 baronet of course knew nothing of his 
 priest's previous acquaintance with Harriet ; 
 and to keep this secret from him she con- 
 ciliated her sister with repeated gifts. The 
 baronet took a house for his mistress in 
 Hampton, and there he spent the best part 
 of his time — leaving her for a few days in 
 each month to go into Dorsetshire, where 
 he had a young wife and child. His 
 estate, his household, and his unfortunate 
 wife he left completely under the control 
 of Father Dominick. The priest once or 
 twice took the occasion of the baronet's 
 presence in Dorsetshire to post to Hampton 
 and visit his former mistress. My wife, 
 Betsy, bribed Harriet's servant to keep a 
 watch on her, and send all the news she 
 could gather. Six months of this double 
 dealing went on, and then, while Sir
 
 A CURIOUS REVEL ATIOX. 83 
 
 Gilbert was at Hampton, Father Dominick 
 brought word to him that his wife had 
 been murdered." 
 
 " Murdered ! " exclaimed Blase. 
 
 " Murdered, sir. God forbid I should 
 charge that wicked priest with one more 
 crime than he has to answer for, but the 
 events that followed have led me to believe 
 that if Father Dominick did not actually 
 strike the blow himself, he was party to 
 the murder." 
 
 " What did follow ? " 
 
 " Within two months he married his 
 mistress to Sir Gilbert, thus promoting her 
 to an honourable position, and bringing 
 her under the same roof with himself." 
 
 " Great God ! " exclaimed Blase. " Can 
 such iniquity escape punishment ? " 
 
 " Not if I have power to bring about 
 a retribution." 
 
 '' Are you sure my — are you sure that 
 Sir Gilbert's first wife was murdered ? "
 
 84 A PRODIGAL'S PEOGEESS. 
 
 " There is no doubt of it, sir. The land- 
 lord of the inn we are coming to remembers 
 the facts, for he was on the jnry at the 
 inquest. 'Tis a fact well known in these 
 parts." 
 
 Was it for that reason, Blase osked him- 
 self, that he had never been suffered to 
 remain for long at Grodwin's Moat, or to 
 promenade in its vicinity unaccompanied 
 by Father Dominick ? 
 
 These speculations yet occupied his mind 
 when the lights of the inn came within 
 sight. 
 
 "Here is the Bag o' Nails, sir," said 
 John Hutchins, uneasily ; " the inn where 
 my daughter lies. I left it under the 
 ^oretence of seeking a loan from a friend 
 in Eockford. What excuse shall I make 
 for returning empty-handed, and with 
 you?" 
 
 "Make your mind easy on that score," 
 replied Blase; "I will satisfy the landlord's
 
 A CURIOUS REVELATION. 85 
 
 demands. And look yon, Mr. Hntcliins, 
 I shall make inquiries into tlie truth of 
 your story to-night, and if I find you have 
 not deceived me, I may be of use to you 
 to-morrow. In the meanwhile, keep guard 
 upon your tongue, and let no one know 
 what you have revealed to me." 
 
 John Hutehins promised discretion, and 
 renewed his expressions of gratitude ; and 
 then having reached the Bag o' Nails, the 
 two entered that inn.
 
 86 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS, 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 TX WHICH THE SCENE IS SHIFTED TO THE 
 BAG O' NAILS. 
 
 The Bag o' Nails, which stood just outside 
 the village of Eockford, was the house of 
 call for those respectable tradesmen and 
 gentlemen who managed the affairs of the 
 parish ; and this being the evening for the 
 discussion of parochial politics, the parlour 
 was well lit with candles and a glowing^ 
 log that burnt in the chimney, around 
 which a dozen worthy men were seated 
 in settles and armchairs, the landlord — 
 himself a churchwarden, and a man much 
 respected for his sagacity, experience, and 
 honesty — occupying a chair in the centre
 
 AT THE BACI 0* NAILS. 87 
 
 of the semicircle. Each man had his dram 
 and his pipe, and tempered the rigom^ of 
 public duty with innocent indulgence in 
 creature comforts. 
 
 At the sound of the little bell attached 
 to the door the landlord rose and went 
 out into the sanded passage, where Blase 
 and John Hutchins stood. 
 
 " Your servant, sir, your servant,*' he 
 said, respectfully taking in with an ac- 
 customed eye those niceties of dress and 
 mien which j^roclaimed Blase a gentleman 
 by birth and breeding. " What may it 
 please you to command ? " 
 
 " Accommodation for the night." 
 
 "• The best I have, sir. — Thomas, wait 
 upon this gentleman to the rose chamber, 
 and light a fire quickly. — But mayhap it 
 will please you, sir, to join our company 
 in the parlour, while your room is a- 
 warming ? " 
 
 " With pleasure ; and, landlord," Blase
 
 88 A PRODIGAL'S PKOGEESS. 
 
 added, dropping liis voice, " this good 
 fellow tells me he is in your debt." 
 
 '' That is true, sir. He and his daughter 
 have had bed and board since yesterday, 
 and I have seen but a shilling of his 
 money." 
 
 *' Be good enough to let him have what 
 is necessary, and charge the expense to me. 
 He has rendered me a service on the road." 
 
 ''I am heartily glad that he has made 
 a friend, for surely he needs one badly 
 enough. I am not hard-hearted, sir, though 
 I may have given him a sharp word or 
 two ; but we who live by our gains must 
 gain by our living, as I say. I assure you, 
 sir," he added, as they left Hutchins and 
 walked towards the parlour, " I have a 
 great pity for him and his daughter, who is 
 a decent little body, and seems greatly con- 
 cerned for her father. May I make bold to 
 inquire what service he has done you, sir?" 
 
 ^' My friend and I were attacked by a
 
 AT THE BAG 0' XAILS. 89 
 
 couple of footpads, about two miles from 
 here." 
 
 '^ Goody lieart ! Footpads ! And what 
 has become of your friend, sir ? " 
 
 "He saved himself by his heels, and pro- 
 bably has returned to the inn from which 
 we started an hour ago. Of the rascals 
 who attacked us, one, I believe, is marked 
 with a ball from my pistol ; the other — got 
 off scot free." 
 
 They entered the parlour, where the 
 landlord introduced the visitor to his 
 friends, and placed a chair for him by his 
 side. Naturally the attempted robbery 
 formed an admirable subject for discussion, 
 and Blase w^as still occupied in answering 
 questions relative to the affair, when a 
 sound of wheels and many voices outside 
 was followed by the tinkling of the door 
 bell and a noisy irruption of sturdy 
 countrymen, armed with stout sticks and 
 pitchforks. These men formed a body-
 
 90 A PEODIGAL'S PEOGRESS. 
 
 guard to the Eeverend Mr. Tickel, who 
 seemed to be in greater peril from the 
 officious care of the friends he had called 
 upon for protection, than from the foe he 
 had fled from ; for being still three parts 
 drunk, they hustled him about from side 
 to side in their anxiety to stand by him, 
 and by their good intentions threatened 
 every moment to put his eyes out with 
 a pitchfork. 
 
 For some minutes nothing was to be 
 gathered from the confusion of tongues^ 
 but at length it appeared that the parson 
 having entered the long room of the Cocky 
 pallid and breathless with the news that 
 his young friend had been set upon and 
 murdered by a gang of rascals on the road^ 
 the assembled company, all true men and 
 lovers of sport, rose on the instant, har- 
 nessed their nags, and started for the scene 
 of battle, resolved to fight it out fairly 
 with the murderous crew.
 
 AT THE BAG 0* KAILS. 91 
 
 Having contrived to extricate the parson 
 from the crowd, Blase took him aside and 
 said quickly in a low tone : 
 
 " Where is my father ? " 
 
 " He follows. He was being lifted into 
 a waggon with the other incapahles when 
 our cart started. Good lord ! my young 
 friend, what a night ! '' 
 
 " You have not mentioned my name ? " 
 
 " No ; or if I did the men were too 
 drunk to notice it.'' 
 
 ''I do not wish it to he known. Be 
 silent." 
 
 At this moment a voice above the rest 
 called : 
 
 "Do'e bring a light, zome'ne, vor I do 
 think's how squoire's dead or suthin, bein* 
 I can't get a word outen 'n nohows." 
 
 Blase seized a candle, and pushing his 
 way vigorously through the crowd of 
 muddled rustics, got out into the air, and 
 hastened to a waggon, where he presumed
 
 D2 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 his father must be, by hearing repeated 
 €ries of " Yoicks!" and '^ Tallyhow!" which 
 he remembered had been used at table as 
 an infalhble means of arousing him. 
 
 A knot of three or four men were 
 gathered behind the waggon. The tail- 
 board was let down, and the butcher, 
 bending down, was using his vocal efforts 
 to send consciousness into the drunken 
 head. Thrusting liim aside. Blase held 
 the candle forward. As the light fell 
 upon the drunkard's face the butcher burst 
 out laughing. 
 
 '^ Dang my bottons," cried he, " vor a 
 ^illy vule as I be ! If I bean't been dingun 
 tallyhow into the wrong 'n's ear. Haw ! 
 haw ! haw ! Whoy, it bean't the squoire 
 at all, but Master Jenkuns the ratcatcher, 
 and he's stoan deaf." 
 
 With a shiver of disgust Blase scanned 
 the faces of the men who lay huddled 
 together upon the straw at the bottom of
 
 AT THE BAG 0' NAILS. 93 
 
 the waggon. He knew liis father so little, 
 that even the drunken fighting man was 
 quicker than he to recognize his face. 
 
 " Theer he he, Lord love 'n. I knaws 'n 
 bv the zise of lies nose. Yoicks ! your 
 honour. Tallyhow ! " 
 
 Sir Gilbert opened his eyes, and looked 
 at the light in dull stupor. 
 
 " Theere hev been another vight, your 
 worshup, twixt a gemman and a robber." 
 
 " Back the winner vur vifty guineas," 
 murmured the baronet, and closed his eyes. 
 
 "And this is my father! " said Blase to 
 himself, turning away. " This the repre- 
 sentative of a race of gentlemen, the 
 descendant of a man who earned his 
 knighthood by noble deeds ; a drunkard, 
 and pigging in the same straw with rat- 
 catchers and the scum of stable yards ! If 
 the name is to be saved from disgrace 'tis 
 time that one of us gave up the life of 
 debauchee."
 
 94 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 The noisy crowd slowly dispersed when 
 it was at length made evident to them that 
 the pleasing- excitement of fighting was 
 not to be enjoyed ; but it was long before 
 the last cart moved away, and the re- 
 spectable frequenters of the Bag o' Nails 
 settled down into their seats around the 
 parlour chimney. 
 
 Mr. Tickel was the first to appreciate the 
 blessings of peace and quiet. Ensconced 
 in a warm corner, with his legs stretched 
 out to catch the heat of the glowing 
 •embers, and gently crushing the sugar in 
 a large glass of hot rum and water which 
 he nursed tenderly upon his knees, he 
 watched the departure of his protectors 
 with that feeling of profound yet un- 
 grateful satisfaction which a convalescent 
 ■experiences in seeing the backs of the 
 nurses and physicians who have attended 
 him through his painful malady. 
 
 " Sir Gilbert again ! " said the landlord,
 
 AT THE BAG 0' NAILS. 95 
 
 ?is lie closed the door and returned to his 
 cliair. " Sir Gilbert Godwin," he con- 
 tinned in explanation, addressing Blase ; 
 ^' a baronet of these parts who, instead of 
 setting a good example to his tenants and 
 neighbours, uses his influence only for to 
 strengthen their vices and confirm 'em in 
 their bad habits. There's nairy a riotous 
 crew but the knight's at the head or the 
 tail of it, which is a scandal to the county, 
 and, as parson says, a thorn in the side of 
 decent church-going folk." 
 
 "A mighty deal he cares for decent 
 folks," said a parishioner, taking the pipe 
 from his lips. " He'd as hef draw a 
 badger or bait a bull Sundays as week-a- 
 days." 
 
 " Ay, and liefer too ! " said another 
 speaker. " But what can you expect, see- 
 ing he's led and governed by a papist 
 priest? I do beheve this here Father 
 Dominick encourages him in his wicked
 
 96 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 ways to prevent liis listening to parson's 
 sarmons." 
 
 " I wish that may be his wiist intent/' 
 said the landlord. " What say you, Muster 
 Rudd?" 
 
 " Why, as to the matter o' that," replied 
 Mr. Rudd, with an uneasy glance from 
 Blase to Mr. Tickel, " there bean't no harm 
 in wishing any man maj^ be no wus 'an 
 he seems." 
 
 This equivocal reflection was followed 
 by a silence intimating that the company 
 entertained suspicions which they did not 
 care to openly express. 
 
 " As a stranger in this county, sir, and 
 a clergyman of the Church of England," 
 said Mr. Tickel, addressing the landlord, 
 with a pompous air that commanded re- 
 spect, and an effrontery which even 
 astonished Blase, " may I ask what worse 
 design you can attribute to the papist 
 than that of precluding the unhappy
 
 AT THE BAG 0' NAILS. 97 
 
 baronet from the beneficent teaching of 
 our Church ? " 
 
 The landlord inclined his head respect- 
 fully toward Mr. Tickel, drew a couple of 
 long whiffs from his pipe, and then said in 
 a low oracular tone : 
 
 " Some men be wus 'an they seem, and 
 others seem wus 'an they be ; and, as I 
 say, if pigs was vallyed by the smell on 
 'em pork 'd be cheap ; which is as much as 
 to say as we don't ought to judge of this 
 here Father Dominick by the unpleasant 
 side of un ; not but what the man as 
 trustes hisself wi' a adder because some 
 on 'em don't sting is a vule, as I say." 
 
 There was a little thin old gentleman — 
 a bookseller by trade — in the corner 
 opposite Mr. Tickel, who seemed, by the 
 expression of his face during these two- 
 sided observations, half inclined to be 
 angry. He good humouredly suffered the 
 general expression of approval which fol- 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 lowed the landlord's speech to subside, then 
 he said in a clear highly-pitched voice, 
 looking from Blase to the parson : 
 
 " It is said here, gentlemen, that to be 
 an enemy to Father Dominick is to be an 
 enemy to one's self ; and this local proverb 
 originated, I believe, with our excellent 
 landlord, to whom we owe many such 
 shrewd apophthegms." The landlord ac- 
 cepted the compliment with becoming 
 dignity. " And truth to tell, many have 
 suffered who have spoken their minds 
 freely about him ; their sufferings in one 
 or two instances, at least, being fairly 
 attributable to the hand of this priest, and 
 for that reason some of us dare not speak 
 out before strangers. But, thank God, I 
 owe no man a farthing, my position is 
 independent, and having nothing greatly 
 to repent, I have nothing greatly to fear 
 from Father Dominick ; and so I will, 
 if you choose, tell you all I know and
 
 AT THE BAG O' NAILS. 99 
 
 think concerning him, without demanding 
 secrecy, but rather with the hope that 
 you may help to publish facts which 
 should bring the wicked ultimately to 
 punishment." 
 
 The little gentleman took a pinch of 
 snuff while Blase and Mr. Tickel thanked 
 him for his confidence, and then proceeded 
 to fulfil his promise.
 
 100 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE LITTLE BOOKSELLER TELLS A STORY, 
 WHICH MUST NOT BE SKIPPED BY THE 
 READER, AND CONCLUDES WITH SOME 
 OBSERVATIONS NOT VERY FLATTERING 
 TO MR. TICKEL. 
 
 " I FEAR, gentlemen, my story will be 
 rather long." The bookseller looked at his 
 watch. " But we are still early — it wants 
 five minutes of nine — and I will endeavour 
 to be brief. For you to comprehend this 
 history fully, I must go back many years, 
 to the time when I was a lad. Let me tell 
 you that I am the same age to a day as this 
 baronet^ Sir Gilbert Godwin ; and when 
 he came of age, my father improved the 
 occasion by bidding me take the young
 
 THE BOOKSELLER'S STORY. 101 
 
 man as my model, and for that reason, per- 
 haps, I have watched his career with keen 
 and painful interest. His personal gifts I 
 could never hope to obtain, for he was a 
 splendid specimen of a young Englishman, 
 and excelled at all manly games. His 
 mental accomplishments I hoped to rival; 
 but his disposition, despite my father's 
 eulogy, did not command my respect. He 
 was generous to a fault. I had nothing 
 wherewith to be profuse, and doubtless 
 for that reason considered his free-handed 
 liberality rather as a reckless indifference to 
 the future, than the outcome of that generous 
 spirit which sometimes restricts wasteful- 
 ness. He seemed to me feeble, and want- 
 ing in manly decision, for even at the age 
 of twenty-one these characteristics show 
 themselves. However, this is not brevity. 
 I will come to facts. At the age of 
 twenty-two he came to the estate and 
 title by the death of his father. The
 
 102 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. " 
 
 next two years he spent in London, and 
 plunged deeply into the pleasure of that 
 wonderful city. I am speaking, sir, of 
 thirty years ago, when there was even 
 more license allowed to young men than 
 at this time." 
 
 " Lor' deary heart, how things have, 
 changed ! " observed the landlord. 
 
 " Satiated with such dissipations," the 
 bookseller continued, "young Sir Gilbert 
 returned to the Moat." 
 
 " Godwin's moat, 'tis called," said the 
 landlord, in an undertone to Blase ; *' and 
 if you are for staying in these parts a few 
 days, 'twill well repay you to look at the 
 house, which is prodigious old and curious." 
 
 " With him he brought a priest of his 
 own age," continued the bookseller, " this 
 very Father Dominick of whom we were 
 speaking." 
 
 " The Godwins have been papists time 
 out of mind " — this from the landlord in
 
 THE BOOKSELLER'S STORY. 103 
 
 a confidential whisper behind the back of 
 his hand. 
 
 " My young gentleman had not been at 
 home long, before he fell in love with the 
 daughter of Captain Davenant, a sweet, 
 pretty young lady, whose innocence and 
 purity had possibly a double attraction 
 for Sir Gilbert, by comparison with the 
 affected coquettes he had met in London." 
 
 " For'ard hussies ! " murmured the land- 
 lord. 
 
 " Captain Davenant was a poor officer, 
 who, having lost an arm at Quebec, had 
 been forced to quit his Majesty's service, 
 and lived at Redwater, about twenty miles 
 from this. The young baronet would 
 marry Miss Davenant, despite her want 
 of fortune, and the fact that her family 
 were staunch protestants. Eager and 
 impulsive, he would take no denial, and 
 was willing to sign any agreement in 
 order that he might obtain her — for I must
 
 104 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 tell you Captain Davenant was opposed 
 to the match. It was settled that the 
 children of the marriage should be brought 
 up according to the tenets of the English 
 Church. After three months wooing he 
 wedded her. It was a love match, and 
 most people thought that the result could 
 not fail to be a happy one." 
 
 " Ah ! you can't make good cider of 
 green apples, as I say," said the irre- 
 pressible landlord. 
 
 " Will you finish the history, landlord ? " 
 asked the bookseller. 
 
 " No, sir, not I. I leave it in better 
 hands, and I humbly ask pardon for 
 interrupting of you." 
 
 " In due course a child was born, a son, 
 of whom I shall have to speak presently ; 
 and for a time it seemed as if the general 
 belief was to be verified as to the happi- 
 ness of this union. Father Dominick was 
 frequently absent from Godwin's Moat
 
 THE BOOKSELLER'S STORY. 105 
 
 during the first eighteen months of Sir 
 Gilbert's married life. Business connected 
 with the Romish Church in London called 
 him away ; but at the end of this time 
 Sir Gilbert undertook to transact this busi- 
 ness, and leaving the priest at the Moat 
 he himself went up to London. From that 
 day his ruin began. The poor young wife 
 was left in that isolated house with her 
 child, her servants, and Father Dominick. 
 Sir Gilbert spent most of his time in 
 London, and his visits to the Moat became 
 fewer and briefer. Then it was rumoured 
 that he was living in infamy with an 
 actress in an establishment near London. 
 It is my belief that this report was secretly 
 spread about by Father Dominick. Cap- 
 tain Davenant heard it, and finding by 
 inquiry that it was true, he was for taking 
 his daughter away from the Moat ; but 
 she refused, saying that it was her duty to 
 stay there while God gave her strength
 
 106 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 to support her misfortune. Poor soul, she 
 had not long to suffer ! " 
 
 " As I say, when you get to the bottom 
 you can't sink no furder," whispered the 
 landlord. 
 
 " One morning the news came to us that 
 the baronet's lady was dead. She was 
 murdered, sir. Mrs. Garston, the nurse of 
 Master Blase, had helped undress her lady 
 the night before. At four o'clock in the 
 morning she, sleeping in the servants' 
 wing, was awoke by the screaming of the 
 poor lady, and the crying of the child who 
 lay in the same bed with her ; the scream- 
 ing continued whilst she struck a light, 
 and then she heard the voice of Father 
 Dominick calling, " Help ! help ! " 
 
 " Ah ! help indeed, a villain ! " muttered 
 the landlord. 
 
 " When Mrs. Garston, with the other 
 servants, reached their mistress's room 
 they found her lying in the middle of the
 
 THE BOOKSELLER'S STORY. 107 
 
 room upon the floor, dead, and Father 
 Dominick kneeling by her side supporting 
 her head on his arm and holding a cruci- 
 fix before her face. The bosom of her 
 night-dress was stained with blood, and a 
 long pointed dagger-knife lay by her side. 
 The window opening over the moat was 
 open. As soon as he could get away 
 Father Dominick threw himself in the 
 saddle and departed for London to find 
 Sir Gilbert, albeit the morning had not 
 then broken. At the same time the butler 
 started off to fetch Captain Davenant from 
 Eedwater. There were then left in the 
 house two maids and Mrs. Garston, with 
 the child and the dead mother. The two 
 girls ran terrified to their rooms, and as 
 soon as it was light fled from the house 
 and came half dead with terror to Rock- 
 ford. Captain Davenant took the butler's 
 horse — he had none of his own — and 
 bidding him seek Mr. George, the captain's
 
 108 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 brother, a doctor having a practice near 
 Kedwater, he galloped off to the Moat. 
 There he found his murdered child, with 
 Mrs. Grarston alone in that grim house." 
 
 " She was a good body, and the fright 
 aged her wonderful," said Mr. Tickel's 
 neighbour, aside. " Nevertheless, she 
 didn't die till last Christmas was a twelve- 
 month, and Captain Davenant treated her 
 like one of the family, he did." 
 
 " Soon afterwards the doctor arrived, 
 but the poor lady, his niece, was past all 
 mortal healing, and all he could do was to 
 come down to Rockford to find the serving 
 maids and send them back to the house. 
 But they wouldn't return, and he could 
 find no one who would go there. For 
 thirty years ago, sir, the people here were 
 in a barbarous state of ignorance and 
 superstition, and when I tell you that 
 no one dared to pass the churchyard at 
 night you can understand that no one had
 
 THE BOOKSELLER'S STORY. 109 
 
 tlie courage to lie in a lonely house with 
 a murdered lady, especially as Sunday 
 after Sunday the parson had preached 
 against popery, and told them of the evil 
 doings of papists. Seeing, therefore, that 
 he could get no one to perform the fitting 
 offices there. Captain Davenant and his 
 brother, with the aid of Mrs. Garston and 
 the butler, carried the murdered lady in a 
 carriage to Rockford." 
 
 " Ah ! I mind what a fuss that made at 
 the inquest ; " said the landlord, " for you 
 see, sir, Redwater lies in Devonshire, and 
 Godwin's Moat stands in Dorsetshire." 
 
 " It was ten days before Father Do- 
 minick and Sir Gilbert appeared, for it 
 seems the baronet was out a pleasuring at 
 the moment of his wife's murder, and he 
 could not be found for some days. His 
 wife had been buried three days before his 
 return. Meanwhile the sheriff of the 
 county, and some gentlemen from the office
 
 110 A PRODIGAL'S PEOGRESS. 
 
 in Bow Street, London, had been making 
 inquiries in every direction but tbe right 
 one to find out who had done the murder. 
 They could tell nothing but what every one 
 knew ; and the jury returned a verdict 
 against some unknown person or persons. 
 And there, so far as the law was con- 
 cerned, the affair ended. But one of the 
 maids, who at the inquest could not be got 
 to open her mouth for yea or nay, said 
 afterwards that wdien Father Dominick 
 rose from holding the crucifix over the 
 dead lady she noticed, despite that he held 
 his head down, blood upon his throat, and 
 it was then remembered that at the inquest 
 he wore his throat covered, complaining of 
 having taken a cold in it ; and this girl 
 further affirmed that her lady's finger-tips 
 were stained." 
 
 " She had held the villain, I warrant, 
 until his knife touched her heart," said one 
 of the listeners.
 
 THE BOOKSELLER'S STORY. Ill 
 
 " My father," continued the little book- 
 seller, " who took great interest in the 
 affair until his last day, went over to 
 Redwater and laid this information before 
 Captain Davenant ; but the captain, albeit 
 he expressed his own belief in the guilt of 
 Father Dominick, said it was now too late 
 to use this evidence, which, even if it were 
 trustworthy, would be insufficient to bring 
 the priest to justice." 
 
 " What became of the woman who gave 
 this information ? " asked Blase. 
 
 " She left Rockford the following week, 
 and has not since been seen. Sir Gilbert 
 appeared to be greatly shocked by this 
 tragic event. He met Captain Davenant 
 at the inquest and openly proclaimed his 
 remorse for neglecting his wife. He 
 readily accepted the proposal that his son 
 should be kept under the care of Mrs. 
 Davenant at Redwater. Then the Moat 
 was shut up. But how sincere his con-
 
 112 A PKODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 trition was you may judge when I tell you 
 that at the end of two months he returned 
 to Godwin's Moat with his priest, and the 
 mistress whom in that short space of time 
 he had rejoined and married. The woman 
 must have obtained a most powerful hold 
 upon his affections. This indecent haste set 
 all the county families against him ; and 
 those who had been most inclined to for- 
 give him, and extenuate his fault, became 
 now his most bitter enemies. I cannot 
 think that the baronet committed this 
 outrage upon good taste of his own free 
 will. I believe he was pressed to do it by 
 the woman and the priest to whose interest 
 it was that he should be cut off at once 
 from society and thrown completely into 
 their hands. In this purpose they suc- 
 ceeded perfectly. Xo one of his own 
 standing visited him or received him ; he 
 was not permitted to join the hunts. 
 Even the tradespeople and farmers of the
 
 . THE BOOKSELLER^S STORY. 113 
 
 better sort avoided him. He was thus 
 driven to find amnsement in the society 
 of the lowest classes. In a word, he ceased 
 to be a gentleman." 
 
 " Is it possible," said Blase, " that a man 
 could sink so quickly to such a depth of 
 degradation ? " 
 
 " Sir, from good to evil the descent is 
 swift," replied the bookseller. 
 
 " Yery true, sir ; very true," observed 
 Mr. Tickel. 
 
 " You must consider, sir," the bookseller 
 said, addressing Blase, "that Sir Grilbert 
 was still quite young, that his passions 
 were stronger than his reason, that his 
 character was possibly exceptionally ductile, 
 and that he had fallen into the hands of a 
 Jesuit, who, in the sacred name of religion, 
 justified his errors, and forgave him his 
 sins as fast as they were committed, and of 
 a woman voluptuously beautiful, unscru- 
 pulous, selfish, and cunning. A young 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 114 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 man who makes himself the slave of his 
 passion, and has not the strength to throw 
 off the chains a subtle woman winds about 
 him, is lost." 
 
 " That's gospel true ! " exclaimed the 
 landlord. " Look you at Master Colter, 
 the blacksmith, a most masterful man, that 
 could throw a quoit with any player in the 
 county, to say nothing of his singing like 
 a thrush from morn till night. Well, what 
 has happened to him since he married old 
 Smith's daughter ? Why " — in a tone of 
 deep commiseration — ■ " he's j'ined the 
 Methodies." 
 
 " I cannot imagine, sir," said Mr. Tickel 
 to the bookseller, "what object the priest 
 and his accomplice had in degrading the 
 baronet." 
 
 " I hope to show you, sir. In six months 
 from the death of the first wife a son was 
 born to Sir Gilbert by the second. From 
 the first this child was like neither Sir
 
 THE BOOKSELLER'S STOKY. 115 
 
 Gilbert nor tlie mother ; but as be grew 
 the resemblance between him and Father 
 Dominick became so marked that it was 
 impossible to doubt the paternity." 
 
 " Like as two peas in a cod," put in the 
 landlord. 
 
 " It was as if Providence had stamped 
 the child to prove the parents' crime, and 
 wean Sir Gilbert from his fatal infatuation. 
 That warning, however, was lost upon him 
 — either because by the time he came to 
 note the likeness he was so stripped of self- 
 respect as to be indifferent, or so sunk in 
 uxorious slavery as to pardon the outrage 
 rather than part with his wife. It is hardly 
 possible that he could see the priest and 
 his son side by side without detecting their 
 resemblance." 
 
 The landlord took the pipe from his 
 mouth as if about to confirm this view of 
 the case, but the little bookseller, seeing his 
 intention, withheld his pinch of snuff, and 
 continued :
 
 116 A PRODIGAL'S PROGEESS. 
 
 " HaviDg ruined the baronet, the object 
 of the priest — for I take him to be the 
 leading character in this diabolical drama 
 — was to ruin his son Blase. At the age 
 of twelve the child was withdrawn from 
 the guardianship of his grandparents at 
 Redwater, and sent to a public school." 
 
 "Ah, these public schools are the devil 
 and all," said the landlord. 
 
 " Possibly Captain Davenant would have 
 refused to give up his grandson under a 
 less plausible demand. Thus he was with- 
 drawn from the control and gentle guidance 
 of this excellent family. Nevertheless, he 
 spent his holidays at Redwater, and for this 
 simple reason — he would not abide at the 
 Moat. Neither coaxing nor thrashing could 
 keep him there. He hated his mother-in- 
 law, his pretended half-brother, and the 
 priest equally ; and, young as he was, he 
 must have held his weak father in con- 
 tempt. The boy was never permitted to
 
 THE BOOKSELLER'S STORY. 117 
 
 leave the house alone when he could be 
 prevented. His mother-in-law or Father 
 Dominick accompanied him even in walk- 
 ing the grounds of Godwin's Moat. This 
 surveillance galled Master Blase, for he 
 was, I am told, a lad of high spirit and 
 daring, and on the very first opportunity, 
 he would escape and walk over to Eed- 
 water. Thrashings innumerable he got for 
 this rebellion, but harsh treatment only 
 made him hate the Moat and the people 
 there more, and he would have risked his 
 miserable life to escape the hated rule. We 
 scarcely ever saw him in Eockford, for he 
 disliked the company of Father Dominick 
 and Mrs. Godwin too greatly to desire 
 anything which compelled him to be in 
 their society. For two years he continued 
 to come home to the Moat at holiday times, 
 to run away to Eedwater, to be brought 
 to the Moat and be thrashed, and to run 
 away to Eedwater again ; then he gave
 
 118 A PllODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Father Dominick warning that he would 
 take no more thrashing from him, and 
 soon after proved his words by knocking 
 him down with a chair when the priest 
 attempted to strike him ! " 
 
 " Bravo, boy ! " say I, exclaimed the 
 landlord. 
 
 " That put an end to his visits at God- 
 win's Moat. Thenceforth he spent term 
 and vacation at school. But Captain 
 Davenant took apartments hard by during 
 the holidays, and had the lad with his 
 family whenever it was possible. Well, 
 gentlemen. Master Blase was kept at this 
 school until the age of twenty ; then a 
 surer blow was struck at his welfare. He 
 was suddenly removed from all restriction 
 — and I believe restriction of some kind 
 was necessary, the young fellow being wild 
 and reckless — and sent out into the world 
 with full liberty to do what he liked and 
 spend what he would. I cannot conceive
 
 THE BOOKSELLER'S STORY. 119 
 
 a more devilish device for ruining him than 
 that. It was worse than any previous 
 cruelty to give a lad of his temperament 
 unbounded liberty; and the result proves 
 how well the effect of it had been gauged. 
 Eight years ago he was sent away, and 
 from that time to this he has never been 
 seen here or at Redwater. What has 
 become of him ? " 
 
 " Murdered, I should say," remarked the 
 landlord. 
 
 " No, sir, he has simply gone to ruin. 
 He is in London, a profligate and a penni- 
 less wretch. As I learn from the attorney 
 who has furnished me with many of these 
 particulars, Sir Gilbert divided his dispos- 
 able property into four equal parts. Three 
 parts he has bestowed by will upon Father 
 Dominick, his wife, and Eugenius, the bas- 
 tard son of his wife ; the fourth he has 
 given to his son Blase. This portion being 
 spent, the baronet refuses to give him any
 
 120 A PRODIGAL'S PEOGRESS. 
 
 more, and has told him to expect nothing 
 but the acres and title which must become 
 his at the baronet's death. Long before 
 that time — mark my words — every tree on 
 the estate will be felled, every farm be al- 
 lowed to fall into a waste, and every penny 
 raised by confiscation or saved by neglect 
 of the estate, will be in the pockets of the 
 priest and his family. Now, gentlemen, 
 you see the motive of this false papist 
 for contriving the ruin of Sir Gilbert and 
 his son." 
 
 " Let us hope," said Blase, '' that the 
 profligate son may see his folly and re- 
 form." 
 
 " I respond to that wish with all my 
 heart. But, sir, how can that be expected ? 
 The young fellow has already so far lost 
 his self-respect as to avoid the very means 
 of reformation. Although he has returned 
 from continental travel three years, he has 
 not been near his good friends at Redwater.
 
 THE BOOKSELLER'S STORY. 121 
 
 That is nothing less than base ingratitude ; 
 though I own that shame may well account 
 for his avoiding them. I do not wish to 
 judge him uncharitably. He deserves our 
 compassion. That he should run into ex- 
 travagance is only natural." 
 
 " You are in the right, sir," said Mr. 
 Tickel. 
 
 " Youth is the season for indulgence." 
 
 "Yery true, sir," said Mr. Tickel — he 
 did not yet reo-ard himself as beino; bevond 
 that season. 
 
 " Our age, although a vast improvement 
 upon the past, still gives great latitude 
 to young men, and they are scarcely to be 
 blamed if they accept what is natural to 
 them." 
 
 As the little man paused to refresh him- 
 self with a pinch of snuff, the parson said 
 in a widely audible whisper to his neigh- 
 bour : "A very exact, discerning, and just 
 gentleman, this ! "
 
 122 ' A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 " And, as I have said," added tlie book- 
 seller, ^' a surer method of sending him to 
 destruction than that employed by this 
 priest, man or Satan never devised. For 
 not only was he freed from restriction and 
 given unbounded liberty and means, but a 
 man was selected to serve as his governor 
 who deserves to be whipped at the cart's 
 tail and exposed in the public pillory. 
 This man, originally a parson as I learn, 
 was unfrocked for drunkenness and pro- 
 fligacy, and fled his parish to escape the 
 prison." 
 
 " There's a fellow for you," said the 
 landlord. 
 
 " A man steeped in vice, without one 
 particle of principle, and with scarcely suf- 
 ficient wit to conceal his sins under the 
 cloak of sanctity." 
 
 " Hang such rascals, say I," cried the 
 landlord; "I would I could lay my hand 
 on him. He should see the bottom of my 
 horse-pond, I warrant you ! "
 
 THE BOOKSELLER'S STORY. 123 
 
 " Even parsons are subject to tlie same 
 natural laws that govern mankind," said 
 Mr. Tiekel faintly, " and the excuse you 
 have made for the young gentleman he 
 accompanied, might be urged in his ex- 
 tenuation." 
 
 " What, youth, sir ? Why the fellow was 
 forty or forty-five, as I am given to under- 
 stand. The very accumulation of his sins 
 should have made him conscious of his age, 
 and directed his thoughts rather to the 
 grave than the indulgence of his sensual 
 appetites. With Mr. Godwin 'tis different. 
 He has all excuses in his favour, and I 
 pray God to deliver him from evil and lead 
 him to grace. But now, gentlemen, I see 
 by my watch I have overstayed my cus- 
 tomary hour ; so I will beg you to excuse 
 me."
 
 124 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 CHAPTER TIL 
 
 CAPTAIX PAVEXAyi. 
 
 With the little bookseller's departure there 
 was a general movement to the door, Blase 
 and Mr. Tickel alone remaining before the 
 fire. 
 
 " Here's a revelation, my young friend," 
 said the parson in a low tone, taking the 
 chair beside Blase. " it puts the game in 
 our own hands : we have the knight, your 
 father, under our thumb, as it were. But 
 did you ever know such a scurrilous, 
 venomous little wretch as he who told the 
 story ? One would say that he knew you, 
 Blase." 
 
 " 'Tis more than possible he guessed who
 
 CAPTAIX DATEXAXT. 125 
 
 you were, parson ; and before tlie same idea 
 strikes the landlord, it will be well for jnii 
 to get to bed." 
 
 '' I am drowsy, lad. But tut. tut I A 
 penniless profligate — there was a thing to 
 say of you ; as for what he said of me I 
 do not value it of a straw. Tis a trifle. 
 Let the world, that judges by externals, 
 condemn poor old Tickel as it will, so that 
 you see beneath the surface and know the 
 gold that lies here " — the parson smote his 
 breast — •* I am content." 
 
 •• 'Tis another fault to my account that I 
 do not hate you. Go to bed. parscm." 
 
 •' "We will say no more. Blase. Good 
 nio'ht — thou^'h I shan't sleep for thinkins^ 
 of those cruel words — a penniless profli- 
 gate ! TTell, well .' " 
 
 With these expressions of commiseration 
 Mr. Tickel left the room, and avoiding 
 the landlord, who was standing on the 
 threshold in conversation with ■ ' '^tins:
 
 126 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 guest, he sneaked up to the bed chamber, 
 where he had prudently seen a fire lit 
 before settling down in the parlour. 
 
 Blase was about to follow, for he had no 
 desire to have the conversation reopened 
 by the landlord, when John Hutchins, who 
 had been permitted to rest himself at the 
 further end of the room, rose from his 
 chair, and approaching him said : 
 
 " I trust, sir, you are convinced of the 
 truth of my story, and do not regret the 
 mercy you have shewn to an unfortu- 
 nate wretch driven to desperation by the 
 villainy of that man whose character has 
 been presented to you this evening by an 
 impartial judge." 
 
 " You have my sympathy," said Blase 
 in a gentle voice, " and if this," slipping a 
 note into the man's hand, " will help you 
 through your present straits and lead to 
 better fortune, 'tis no more than I desire." 
 
 " Wait — wait I beg you, sir," exclaimed
 
 CAPTAIN DA YEN ANT. 127 
 
 Hutchins, catclimg at Blase's coat-sleeve as 
 he was moving away. " You must wait 
 to hear my thanks — poor as my words 
 may be. I — I — no — 'tis useless, I cannot 
 find one word to speak ; my heart " 
 
 " You have said enough," said Blase. 
 *' You may have stronger claims upon my 
 sympathy than you imagine." 
 
 These words spoken carelessly were full 
 of meaning for Hutchins. 
 
 " Is it, then, true, sir," he said eagerly, 
 " — the suspicion that flashed upon me 
 when I saw the stout gentleman who said 
 he was a clergyman speaking to you just 
 now, that you are the son of Sir Gilbert 
 Godwin ? " 
 
 " I am ! " 
 
 " Then, sir, you have as'much reason as 
 I to curse Father Dominick." 
 
 '^ You have heard my character from 
 an impartial judge," Blase said, smiling. 
 
 " I do not allude to your character, sir.
 
 128 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 I hold here in my hand a proof of your 
 virtue that no words can refute. But the 
 loss of your fortune, your alienation from 
 your father, his disgrace, and possibly the 
 murder of your mother — these are calami- 
 ties which that priest must answer for." 
 
 Blase was silent. He saw the necessity 
 of keeping cool in encountering such a foe 
 as Father Dominick. 
 
 " Heavens, sir, you will avenge these 
 wrongs ! " cried Hutchins, taking the set 
 expression in the face of Blase to imply 
 apathy. 
 
 " Please God," Blase answered. 
 
 " You can at least expose the intimacy 
 that existed between the priest and Harriet 
 at the very moment when Sir Gilbert was 
 making love to her. Take me as your 
 witness, sir." 
 
 "That will serve no purpose. My father 
 must have discovered that such a liaison had 
 existed by the resemblance between Euge-
 
 CAPTAIN DAYENANT. 129 
 
 nius and the priest, wliicli lias been spoken 
 of to-nio^ht. We must be careful what 
 we do — you especially. He may have the 
 power to throw you into prison for the 
 unpaid debt of your poor wife." 
 
 "That maybe so, indeed," said Hutchins, 
 his courage dropping in the moment. 
 
 '- Here comes the landlord," said Blase. 
 " Keep what you know a secret and — wait. 
 I will see you to-morrow." 
 
 Blase went to his bed-chamber. In the 
 passage a placid and regular snoring fell 
 upon his ear. Looking on the floor by 
 the door of the room from which this 
 sound of repose issued he saw a pair of 
 shoes — shoes of the best leather, square- 
 toed, large, and with comfortable hollows 
 for tender parts — there was no mistaking 
 them, or the sleeping wearer. They 
 belonged to the parson, and he slept, 
 despite his sins, for he was blessed with 
 an elastic conscience upon which the 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 130 A PRODIGAL'S PEOGRESS. 
 
 heaviest blow might fall without leaving 
 the slightest impression. 
 
 Not so was it with Blase. He did not 
 fairly sleep at all that night. He tried to 
 think collectedly : he tried to not think at 
 all, and between these impatient endeavours 
 his thoughts may have become more vague 
 and incoherent, but they never ceased to 
 hover about one subject. That subject, 
 strangely enough, was not his meeting 
 with Sir Grilbert, the attack upon the road, 
 nor even those remote yet striking incidents 
 of the past which had been revealed to 
 him so freshly, but simply his own in- 
 gratitude, heartlessness, want of feeling, or 
 whatever the fault was which had caused 
 him first to forget, then to neglect, and 
 finally to avoid, the only people in the 
 world who loved him. Their familiar 
 faces haunted him. He saw them all as 
 he had seen them in the old better days 
 when he had escaped from the tyranny
 
 CAPTAIN DAYENANT. 131 
 
 of Father Dominick and souglit an asylum 
 at Redwater — ^his grandfather tall and 
 erect, his grandmother with her moh-cap, 
 her old-fashioned roan dress and black 
 mittens, and aunt Gertrude with that 
 sweet sadness on her face, which in a 
 pretty old maid tells of early loss. 
 
 With the first sounds of movement in 
 the house Blase put an end to these re- 
 gretful memories by springing from his 
 bed. He had decided which duty must 
 be first done. He rang the bell, and when 
 the astonished waiter came to his door he 
 bade him prepare breakfast and get ready 
 a chaise at once. He could but just see 
 to dress himself by the feeble grey light, 
 the clock below was striking six as he 
 left his room. Outside the parson's door 
 lie paused, and knocked once — twice — 
 thrice, but still the sleeper snored with 
 unaltered regularity. 
 
 "I wager the old rascal will have the
 
 132 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 impudence to tell me that lie has not 
 closed an eye all night," said Blase to 
 himself as he gave up the attempt to 
 wake him and ran downstairs. 
 
 The landlord was also a comfortable 
 sleeper, and entrusted the early manage- 
 ment of his house to his wife, a notable 
 good woman, who concerned herself chiefly 
 in the affairs of her kitchen ; so Blase 
 took his breakfast alone and made a hearty 
 meal. 
 
 For the feeling that he was about to 
 amend his ways and begin a new and 
 better era in his life invigorated him in 
 mind and in body and gave him a zest 
 for life which had for some time been 
 sadly wanting. 
 
 So eager was he to carry out his good 
 intentions, that he laid aside his knife the 
 moment the chaise was brought to the door, 
 and took his seat without delay. 
 
 But as he was sitting there pulling on
 
 CAPTAIN DAVENANT. l33 
 
 his gloves, while the boy who was to drive 
 him buttoned up the apron, his eye was 
 attracted to a bedroom window by the 
 flutter of a curtain, and there he saw a 
 girl's face peeping over the curtains which 
 she held gathered up under her chin ; 
 whereupon the young libertine's blood 
 began to dance in his veins and he lost 
 sight of every good resolution that had 
 occurred to him since the moment he 
 vowed to reform. 
 
 The girl had clearly arranged the 
 curtain thus that she might have a good 
 look at the handsome gentleman in the 
 chaise ; and this desire she seemed resolved 
 to gratify even wlien she found herself 
 observed. 
 
 She was pretty, although somewhat pale 
 and thin ; she had a small white nose 
 and a pair of roguish black eyes ; and 
 these pretty eyes blinked as Blase looked 
 up at them, just as if a ray of sunlight
 
 134 A PRODIGAL'S PEOGRESS. 
 
 had fallen into tliem. As the chaise 
 moved on Blase turned his head to look 
 back at the girl, and she bringing her 
 face closer to the window turned her eves 
 to follow him while the j^rettiest smile 
 just parted her lips. For ten minutes 
 after Blase could think of nothing but 
 that girl's face ; which shows how difficult 
 it is for a man with the best of intentions 
 to lay aside his loose habits. 
 
 A mile from Rockford the road is struck 
 by the footjoath from Godwin's Moat and 
 from this point was familiar to Blase : 
 there was scarcely a distinctive feature 
 which did not recall some incident of his 
 boyhood and of his flights from home — 
 the brook at which he used to drink, the 
 places where he rested, the wood in which 
 he hid one day when he fancied himself 
 pursued — these and many such spots filled 
 his mind with reminiscences which occu- 
 pied his thoughts until the little village
 
 CAPTAIN DAVEXAXT. 135 
 
 of Eickliam came in sight, with the great 
 cedar towering over the chestnuts of Eed- 
 water beyond. 
 
 He stopped at the ale-house in Bickham. 
 and bidding the boy await his return, 
 walked through the village and approached 
 the old house which had been more to him 
 than home, with feelings that seemed but 
 a repetition of those he had experienced 
 so long ago. He remembered to have felt 
 the same choking feeling in his throat. 
 the same misty tears before his eyes, the 
 same yearning for love and sympathy, and 
 the same dread that the old kind faces 
 might look upon him sternly. 
 
 Was anything altered? not to the eye. 
 There were the great gates thrown back — 
 partly to tell the world that Captain 
 Davenant was at home and open to receive 
 company, partly to save the servant the 
 trouble of walking down from the house 
 to answer applications ; there at the end
 
 136 A PRODIGAL'S PEOGRESS. 
 
 of the broad chestnut avenue was the old 
 red brick house, the well-polished panes 
 of the bay windows glittering in the 
 golden light of the sun just peeping over 
 Rickham wood ; and there was the bent 
 old villager sweeping with slow and care- 
 ful movement the fallen leaves into little 
 mounds by the side of the drive. 
 
 " Marn'ng, sir, marn'ng," said the old 
 man, stopping to take off his hat to the 
 early visitor. 
 
 " Is Captain Davenant risen ? " Blase 
 inquired. 
 
 " Ees, zur. Theere he be, ooj) away 
 by tlie zedar-tree, a taking of lies marn'ng 
 walk." 
 
 Looking across the lawn, Blase perceived 
 his grandfather ; and with his heart 
 beating quicker he hastened his steps to 
 overtake the old gentleman. When he 
 was within a dozen paces the captain 
 caught the soimd of his footstep, halted,
 
 CAPTAIN DAVENANT. 137 
 
 and turned about. He had aged since 
 Blase last saw him. He was less erect, 
 his complexion was whiter, the wrinkles 
 in the angles of his eyes deeper. He put 
 Tip his glass as the young man approached, 
 and then let it fall, as Blase came to a 
 stand before him and dropped his chin 
 upon his breast in silence. 
 
 " Mr. Grodwin — Blase — my boy ! " he ex- 
 claimed, his voice falling to a quavering 
 murmur upon the last word ; then drawing 
 liimself up and controlling his emotion by 
 an effort : '' May I ask," he said, " what 
 has brought you here ? " 
 
 " I have come to ask your forgiveness," 
 said Blase humbly. 
 
 " Why, sir, one would think it is not 
 required by the length of time that has 
 passed since you first offended. Don't 
 mistake this ao-itation for a weak and 
 misplaced tenderness towards you, sir. 
 'Tis passion, sir, 'tis choler. When a
 
 138 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 man forgets the women who love him ; 
 when he siifiers fond hearts to yearn and 
 despau' without one efibrt to soothe them ; 
 nay, when he values not the tenderest 
 affection at the cost of a sheet of paper 
 with a kind word written upon it, he has 
 more claim to j^^nishment than pardon, 
 for he not only ceases to be kind, but be- 
 comes cruel. I am angry, sir ; I have 
 a right to be angry ; I ought to be angry. 
 'Tis well I have steeled mv heart ao-ainst 
 vou. sir. or it mio-ht ache even now when 
 you are here to excite my indignation, to 
 think of all I have thought and suffered 
 on your account during eight long years 
 — or at least part of that time. Thank 
 Grod, I am not a woman. Happily for 
 me a soldier's heart gets toughened 
 early, and gives no hold to the roots 
 and fibres of a clinging love. . . . Good 
 God, Blase ! what are you doing — crying ? 
 Why, there, there ; put your arms about
 
 CAPTAIN DAVENANT. 139 
 
 my neck, boy. Embrace me, dear, dear 
 lad." 
 
 Indeed, tears of repentance bad sprung 
 from the young man's heart, and flowed 
 down bis face ; and tbus was be forgiven. 
 
 " Come, my boy, we will go witbin 
 doors," said Captain Davenant wben be 
 could again speak. " I bave done my 
 duty, wbicb was to upbraid you, and now 
 'tis but a common act of Cbristianity to 
 forgive. Do not let tbe remembrance of 
 my barsb words burt you." 
 
 " 'Tis your tenderness tbat wounds me, 
 sir." 
 
 •• Well, well, 'tis a sign tbat your beart 
 is yet good. But I promise you I sball 
 be severe by-and-bye. I sball demand a 
 very tborougb explanation after breakfast. 
 As you know, boy, I can be firm and stern 
 wben circumstances require. You must 
 be bungry. Blase. "Wbere bave you come 
 from tbis morning ? "
 
 140 A PRODIGAL'S PKOGRESS. 
 
 " Rockford, sir." 
 
 " G-ad's my life ! How often about this 
 very hour have you come hither covered 
 with the dust of that road, poor boy ! 
 And now you are a man, and, by George, 
 a devilish good-looking sort of a fellow, 
 too. YouVe a fine deep chest, and as good 
 a pair of shoulders as ever I've seen. But 
 you don't look happy. Blase — you don't 
 look happy." 
 
 " How should I, sir, having to fiice the 
 women who have loved me in vain ? I 
 dread my grandmother's tears." 
 
 Captain Davenant dropped his head, and 
 then said in a low voice — 
 
 '' The last is shed, my boy. Here you 
 will see neither her smile nor tears again." 
 
 " How, sir ? " Blase said under his 
 breath. 
 
 " She has been dead two years." 
 
 Blase dared not trust himself to speak. 
 
 " She spoke of you almost at the last.
 
 CAPTAIN DAVENANT. 141 
 
 poor soul," continued Captain Davenant. 
 " ' Tell my dear Blase when he comes,' said 
 she, ' that I wished him farewell, and may 
 Grod bless him.' She left a trinket for 
 your chain. I have kept it in a drawer of 
 my desk for you." 
 
 " I am punished," said Blase in choking 
 tones ; then presently he asked, trembling, 
 " and Aunt Gertrude ? " 
 
 " She has been spared to me ; otherwise 
 I think you would have found this old 
 house closed, for I could not have lived 
 alone."
 
 142 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 AUXT GERTRUDE. 
 
 '' 'Twill he well,'' said CajDtain Davenant, 
 '^ to prepare Gertrude for the meeting ; so, 
 while I go up to speak to her — for I see 
 by her closed window that she has not yet 
 left her room — do you go into my closet 
 and wait there." 
 
 Blase passed through the hall and 
 entered the little room where Captain 
 Davenant spent his hours of retirement. 
 In his boyhood he had always considered 
 it a great privilege to pass an hour in this 
 apartment, for here he could gratify, if not 
 satiate, the appetite w^hich he in common 
 with most robust boys had for heroics.
 
 AUNT GERTRUDE. 143 
 
 On two sides of the room were shelves 
 filled with books relating to the use of 
 arms and the art of warfare ; many of them 
 were illustrated. Two books were a joy 
 to study and a pain to quit. One was a 
 treatise on fortifications, fully a hundred 
 years old, with graphic pictures in which 
 the course of each particular shell was 
 traced through the sky to the bomb from 
 which it was discharged, and the dis- 
 astrous result measured in heads, limbs, 
 and bricks scattered around. The other was 
 a more modern work upon the duel, with 
 admirable outline drawings of successful 
 hits, showing the combatants at the 
 decisive moment of their battle, and 
 sparing no detail. Besides these thrilling 
 works there was a collection of weapons 
 which had belonged to Davenants now 
 dead and gone, and been used by them in 
 good and loyal fight. There were stains 
 upon them which might be of rust, but
 
 144 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 whicli the boy fervently hoped were of 
 blood. There also, below these trophies, 
 was Captain Davenant's sword which he 
 had fought with at Quebec. There was 
 no mistake about that having killed some- 
 body. When the boy was permitted to take 
 it from the scabbard he would do so with as 
 much care as if it were glass, and his eyes 
 would grow round with eager speculation as 
 they dwelt upon a notch in the blade. With 
 regard to this notch Captain Davenant had 
 one day ventured to suppose that he must 
 have struck a bayonet with it, whereupon 
 Blase, shaking his head, replied solemnly, 
 " Bone, / should say, grandfather." 
 
 These things had now no interest for 
 him; they failed even to recall the old 
 sensations to his mind.. He could think 
 only of the woman whose affection had 
 outlived his neglect. With hung head he 
 paced from end to end of the room until 
 the sound of voices reached his ear, then
 
 AUNT GERTKUDE. 145 
 
 he stood trembling and weak as a girl. 
 Footsteps pattered quickly over the tiled 
 hall, the door opened, and then, with a 
 little fluttering inarticulate cry of joy, 
 Aunt Gertrude ran across the room and 
 fell into his arms. 
 
 She was a little lady — Blase had to 
 bend his head to kiss hers as it lay 
 against his breast — with a sweet fair 
 English face, and pretty white hands, 
 plump and dimpled at the knuckles. Her 
 hair was quite white, and contrasted oddly 
 with her face, which was still that of a 
 young woman. It was said that her hair 
 was grey when she returned from Italy, 
 where her betrothed husband died in her 
 arms. A casual observer would not have 
 dreamt that she had suffered so cruelly. Her 
 disposition was lively rather than morbid ; 
 she was less sentimental even than most 
 women. She sought constantly to find a 
 fair side to dark things, and did her best 
 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 to ameliorate the hardships of life by en- 
 deavouring to overcome them. She had 
 pretty dark eyes, and arch winning ways ; 
 and the goodness of her heart was a 
 proverb in the country round about Red- 
 water. To many it was a matter of 
 surprise that she did not marry, for it was 
 known that she had refused several good 
 offers of marriage. But those who knew 
 how tenaciously natures like hers cling to 
 their first ideals, how deeply she loved her 
 father, how still more intense was the 
 love bestowed upon her dead lover, saw 
 that it was merely consistent fidelity which 
 kept her an old maid. Perhaps the matri- 
 monial troubles and awful end of her sister 
 Grace, which occurred about the time of 
 her lover's death, strengthened her sub- 
 sequent antipathy to marriage. She had 
 loved Blase from the first with a maternal 
 fondness. Pity for the motherless child, 
 tender love for Grace, his unhappy mother.
 
 AUNT GEKTKUDE. 147 
 
 and 2^ossibly those yearning dreams of 
 offspring which had come to her mind in 
 the earlier days of her betrothal, all com- 
 bined to make him dear to her. 
 
 She shed a few womanly tears as she lay 
 against his heart, then brushing them 
 away resolutely she stood back a little, and 
 with her eyes yet moist looked at him in 
 pride and joy. 
 
 '' How you have grown, dear ! " she 
 cried. " What a fine handsome man you 
 are." 
 
 " I wish I had better reason to be vain," 
 Blase replied. " 'Tis all the worse to have 
 a manly face and an unmanly heart." 
 
 " Who but you dare tell me that your 
 heart is unmanly ? You have come back 
 to us. Oh ! I knew you would come 
 again, only the time has seemed long to 
 us." A shade of sadness passed over her 
 face as she thought of the long months and 
 years of suspense and doubt, and then she
 
 148 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 went back to his arms, nestling her face 
 against his breast again, and smiled. 
 
 " I have been possessed, I think," said 
 Blase ; " and, like an opium eater, I have 
 forgotten everything, cared for nothing 
 but my own enjoyment. Then when I 
 began to awake from this stupor I was 
 ashamed and dared not face you — thinking 
 it better that you should believe me to be 
 dead than know me to be ungrateful." 
 
 " 'Tis as you say, dear, pleasure is a 
 narcotic to the young. Men are not tame 
 things to fawn about those who have 
 reared them, to stay within narrow limits, 
 to obey the wishes of others — they will be 
 free. And you could never brook con- 
 straint. 'Twas that drove you to an 
 opposite extreme. Oh! you are a young- 
 lion, dear ? " 
 
 " And still a brute." 
 
 " Say that you have your faults, they 
 are faults of youth and manhood. I would
 
 AUNT GERTRUDE. 149 
 
 not have you less a man to be an angel. 
 And there is enough said. Now lead me 
 in to breakfast. Let me hold your arm, 
 so. Oh ! what a mite I seem ! " she 
 looked up at him sidelong. '' You shall 
 take me to church to-morrow, and may 
 Heaven pardon me if I be puffed up with 
 pride." 
 
 Blase led Aunt Gertrude into the dining- 
 room — a beautiful old room with a deep 
 bay window at the end in which the 
 Davenant coat, crest, supporters and motto 
 were displayed in coloured glass. The 
 breakfast cloth was laid on one end of 
 the long table which, with the panelled 
 wainscot, and the floor, were of dark oak, 
 polished as bright as beeswax and patient 
 labour could make them. 
 
 Captain Davenant sat in the embrasure of 
 one of the side windows reading Milton in 
 order to compose his mind ; he rose as the 
 door opened, and after a few kind words
 
 150 A PEODIQAL'S PEOGEESS. 
 
 led the way to the breakfast table with as 
 much ceremony as if he were a prince 
 leading his company to a banquet. 
 
 Aunt Grertrude would fain have sat close 
 beside Blase, that she might more readily 
 minister to his wants, but etiquette com- 
 pelled her to take the seat opposite to him, 
 and on the right of Captain Davenant, 
 who took the head of the board, whence, 
 however, she had the advantage of being- 
 better able to see Blase. 
 
 A feeling of constraint must undoubtedly 
 have oppressed Blase during the meal, 
 but for the tact of Aunt Gertrude, who 
 contrived to find subject for continued 
 conversation which bore no reference to 
 the past, and was interesting alike to him 
 and Captain Davenant ; so that while the 
 talk wandered from London fashions to the 
 victory over the Dutch fleet, and the 
 prospects of the cider yield. Blase came to 
 feel himself at home once more, and found
 
 AUNT GERTRUDE. 151 
 
 himself sufficiently at ease to take part in 
 the conversation, and at the same time 
 follow out an under current of silent 
 observation and reflection. He noticed that 
 the coat his grandfather wore was thread- 
 bare in parts and faded, like the coverings 
 of the chairs, to a pale neutral tint ; that 
 the table-cloth was darned at the corners, 
 and in those parts where it had worn thin 
 by long usage ; that the old man who 
 served the chocolate on a silver salver, 
 was the same old man he had seen sweep- 
 ing the drive, but now rendered painfully 
 ludicrous by a Rammilies wig and a livery 
 which probably his predecessors had worn 
 from the commencement of the century, 
 and which hung upon his shoulders in 
 large folds, the skirt nearly touching his 
 heels, and the cuffs falling over his 
 knuckles. He perceived also that the 
 chocolate was wofully thin ; that the 
 rashers of bacon were ridiculouslv out of
 
 152 A PEODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 proportion with the large silver dish on 
 which they were served; and that his aunt 
 and grandfather took the slightest modicum 
 of butter with their bread. These facts 
 were trifles, but the deduction to be drawn 
 from them was that Captain Davenant was 
 extremely poor, and this it was important 
 to Blase to know. It was a discovery to 
 liim. For although these signs of poverty 
 were of old standing — the antiquated livery, 
 the worn clothing, the mende d linen were 
 familiar to him — they had not borne the 
 significance to his boyish intelligence which 
 they carried now to his more comprehen- 
 sive understanding. 
 
 Captain Davenant had too much dignity 
 to make his limited means the subject of 
 comment. He had never done a mean 
 action nor entertained a mean thought in 
 his life ; he was ashamed of nothing ; he 
 feared no man. In the old days he had 
 tipped Blase magnificently. He had not
 
 AUNT GERTKUDE. 153 
 
 the slightest hesitation in begging the 
 Duke of Rockingham to eat bread and 
 cheese with him when his grace did him 
 the honour to call at Rockford one day at 
 lunch time. He made no pretence to 
 riches, nor any attempt to conceal his 
 position. When visitors came they were 
 treated alike, no matter what their rank or 
 position, to the best he had, and that was 
 all that the richest or most generous of men 
 could do. He owed no man a farthing, 
 and his estate was in such condition that 
 if he died at any moment his heirs 
 would find it as he had received it. Not 
 a tree had been felled, not an ounce 
 of silver melted, not a foot of ground 
 mortgaged ; the house was in good repair, 
 the grounds in decent order. He lived 
 frugally, and to the extent of his means 
 he gave to the poor. In a word, and to 
 sum up all, he did his duty in the man- 
 ner which he conceived was consistent
 
 154 A PRODIGAL'S PEOGEESS. 
 
 with the character of a soldier and a 
 gentleman. 
 
 " Will you have your old room, Blase 
 dear ? '' Aunt G-ertrude asked when break- 
 fast was ended, and her father made a 
 movement to leave the table. 
 
 " That must depend, my dear," inter- 
 posed the old gentleman. " Blase will 
 give me a few minutes in my closet before 
 deciding that question. Shall it be now, 
 sir i 
 
 " I am at your service, sir," Blase 
 replied. 
 
 Aunt Gertrude looked at Blase in silent 
 compassion, then her eyes turned in suppli- 
 cation to her father, as if begging him to be 
 merciful. But Captain Davenant, with the 
 serious business of this interview before 
 him, could take no notice of sentimental 
 appeals against justice; he made his 
 daughter a stately bow and led the way 
 out of the room. Blase followed. Quickly
 
 AUNT GERTKUDE. 155 
 
 and stealthily Aunt Gertrude whipped 
 round the end of the table, and over taking- 
 Blase by the door she, with the ardour of 
 a young sweetheart rather than the cold- 
 ness of an old maiden aunt, caught his 
 hand in hers and pressed a silent kiss upon 
 his cheek. 
 
 " I don't think papa can be very cruel to 
 you, dear," she whispered.
 
 156 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 OF THE GRAVE DISCUSSION WHICH TOOK 
 PLACE IN CAPTAIN DAVENANt's CLOSET. 
 
 "' I AM conscious that I was over hasty in 
 giving you my pardon, Blase," said Captain 
 Davenant when they were together in his 
 closet. " I was led away by my feelings, 
 and in forgiving you your neglect of me 
 I overlooked the possibility of your having 
 committed offences which it would be less 
 easy to pardon. Therefore, sir, before 
 asking you to stay at Redwater, I must 
 beg you to tell me if, in the pursuit of your 
 pleasures, you have done anything which 
 should exclude you from my house." 
 
 " I have lived a loose and profligate life," 
 Blase said, the blood suffusing his face and 
 neck.
 
 A GKAVE DISCUSSION. 157 
 
 " The manners of this age and tlie laws 
 of private society justify, if they do not 
 even encourage, such faults. I do not wish 
 to know what folHes you have committed. 
 Only tell me, in one word, my boy, that 
 you have not been guilty of — of — of — 
 Confound it, sir, you know what I mean ! " 
 
 " Indeed I do not, sir." 
 
 " Gruilty of — my tongue refuses to hint 
 such a thing to my grandson ; but, in fact, 
 Blase, one of those busybodies, who are 
 never content unless they be meddling in 
 other people's business and setting friends 
 by the ears, brought me word — and near 
 enough it was of coming to your aunt's 
 ears — that you were to be seen any night 
 at Brooke's or White's '' 
 
 '"I have played, and lost, and paid. 
 G-reat heavens, grandfather, you don't 
 think I would cheat ? " 
 
 " Not I, my boy. Grive me your hand. 
 Thank God, that's all over! I told you
 
 158 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 I sliould be severe, but I had to screw my 
 courage up to this, I assure you.. Honour- 
 able play is a good thing. G-erty and I 
 play cribbage for twopence a game every 
 night of our lives, except Sundays. And 
 as for the other follies — hard drinking and 
 gallantry — well, well, the less said about 
 them the better. Phew ! how warm this 
 has made me. Thank Heaven it's all 
 over, again say I. Ah ! if you knew how 
 it makes my old heart swell — here. Blase, 
 here — to see you again sitting in this old 
 room, you young rascal ! " His voice 
 trembled and broke ; then he gathered 
 courage, and in firmer though yet shaky 
 tones he said, " There, there ; 'tis nothing. 
 Bring your chair closer, boy. See, there 
 are the two books you loved to look at. 
 I've kept 'em in the same place all these 
 years, and last Christmas I took 'em down 
 to look at ; but Lord ! their charm was 
 gone. Will you have one of 'em down
 
 A GRAYE DISCUSSION. 159 
 
 now? 'Monk on the small-sword,' that 
 you coloured so well, though, to my 
 thinking, you j)^'^^ too much red in the 
 designs considering what a little blood 
 flows from such wounds ; nevertheless, they 
 were capitally done. Shall it be 'Monk,' 
 or will you have ' Bailey's fortifications ' ? " 
 
 "I think I will defer that pleasure, sir, 
 for there is a subject which weighs heavy 
 on my mind just now, and upon which I 
 wish to talk with you." 
 
 " No confession I hope, my boy." 
 
 "No, sir. 'Tis not now the subject of 
 my own faults, but of the crime that 
 deprived me of a ]3arent who might have 
 saved me from them." 
 
 The expression of childish gaiety that 
 had irradiated the old officer's face left it 
 suddenly, and he said quickly — 
 
 " What loss do you mean ? " 
 
 " The loss of my mother." 
 
 " What do you know of her ? "
 
 160 A PKODIGAL'S PEOGKESS. 
 
 " That she was murdered." 
 
 " Was it this brought you from London ? " 
 
 " No ; I knew nothing of it until I came 
 to Kockford last night. I left London to 
 ask my father's forgiveness and yours. If 
 the history I heard is true, my father 
 stands in greater need of forgiveness than 
 I. G-randfather, I want you to tell me 
 what you know." 
 
 Captain Davenant looked at Blase 
 steadily for some moments without speak- 
 ing. He seemed to be gauging the 
 strength of his grandson's character, to be 
 weighing the advisability of complying 
 with his request. Finally he said ; 
 
 " My boy, I am sorry that you know 
 so much. I would have spared you the 
 pain of this useless knowledge. In a 
 quarter of a century the recollection of 
 this family disgrace should have died, one 
 thinks. That was my hope. But for 
 some people these unhappy matters have
 
 A GRAVE DISCUSSION. 161 
 
 a lasting interest, and they fondly believe 
 that they are forwarding the ends of 
 justice by their incessant tattle. They 
 are like the old woman whose hands I had 
 the misfortune to fall into after Quebec. 
 She fancied if she could find the ball in 
 my shattered arm I should recover, to her 
 lasting glory, and so she probed and 
 probed my poor arm, giving me infernal 
 tortures, until the surgeon came and took 
 it off. Into the company of such a person 
 you have fallen, I expect. There is such 
 an one at Eockford I know% to my cost. 
 However, Blase, you are no longer a boy ; 
 and although I would still keep you in 
 ignorance, I cannot refuse to answer the 
 questions you think it right to ask." 
 
 '' I understand your reluctance to make 
 the disgrace of our family subject for 
 vulgar curiosity, grandfather. I will ask 
 you only one question : Do you know if 
 any evidence exists which could bring 
 
 VOL. I. 11
 
 16*2 A TRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Father Dominick before a judge for the 
 murder of my mother ? " 
 
 ^' No, Blase, I do not," answered Captain 
 Davenant. 
 
 Blase sighed. "I thought my mother's 
 woman, Mrs.Garston,or uncle George, might 
 have discovered some fact to prove his guilt." 
 
 ^' Both are dead." 
 
 ^' Then I have no further questions to 
 put," said Blase. " Still I believe I have 
 sufficient presumptive evidence to crush 
 that villain ! " 
 
 " Heavens ! my boy, you do not think of 
 going to law ? " cried Captain Davenant in 
 alarm. 
 
 " No, sir ; my sole object is to save my 
 fi\ther, to make him see if possible the 
 villainy of those wretches who killed my 
 mother, and brought disgrace upon our 
 family." 
 
 " Pardon me, my boy. I forget that Sir 
 Gilbert is vour father. Your consideration
 
 A GRAVE DISCUSSIOX. 163 
 
 for liim who has shown so little kindness 
 to you does you honour. Twenty-five 
 years of hitter regret that he was ever 
 born have made me cease to think of him 
 with common charity. 'Tis your duty 
 to attempt to reclaim him, though" — he 
 shrugged his shoulders — " I fear he has 
 grown too callous and too brutal for any 
 effort of yours to be effectual. With no 
 sense of shame, no feeling of self-respect 
 or affection, what threat or entreaty can 
 move him to cast off the creatures who, by 
 alienating him from the world, have made 
 themselves necessary to his existence ? " 
 
 " I must do my best." 
 
 " You must," said Captain Davenant ; and 
 then, after a pause, ''I would I could help 
 you, but 'tis not in my power. You sjDoke 
 of proofs. Blase ; what proofs have you ? " 
 
 " By a curious accident I fell into con- 
 versation with a man upon the road to 
 Rockford last night, who was bent on a
 
 164 A PEODIGAL'S PEOGEESS. 
 
 mad project of revenging the injuries he 
 had received from Father Dominick. This 
 imhappy man, whose name is John 
 Hutchins, is the brother-in-law of my 
 father's second wife. He knows that she 
 was the mistress of Father Dominick at the 
 very time that she married my father. 
 To prevent the betrayal of this secret, the 
 priest contrived to have him impressed and 
 carried to sea, at the same time throwing 
 his wife — the sister of the woman my 
 father espoused — into the Fleet prison for 
 debt. When John Hutchins' term of five 
 years was expired, he returned to London, 
 to find his wife dead, with one mourner — 
 her child. By an unfortunate accident 
 Hutchins lost his money on the very day 
 he received it from the pay office. These 
 troubles for a time seem to have bereft 
 him of reason, and with his child he left 
 London to walk to Grodwin's Moat, and 
 revenge himself upon Father Dominick."
 
 A GRAVE piSCUSSIOX. 165 
 
 " Unhappy wretch ! Where is he now, 
 Blase ? " 
 
 " I left him at the inn, at Rockford." 
 
 ''We will send for him, my boy, this very 
 day ; for thongh I would fain hear that the 
 villain who injured him is dead, I would 
 not that this poor fellow added to his mis- 
 fortunes by committing an act of violence 
 in his desperation. As for his proofs, I see 
 not what good they can serve you." 
 
 " I will show you. Soon after we reached 
 the inn at Rockford, where I stayed the 
 night, a cavalcade composed of stable-hel^^s 
 and such riff-raff stopped at the inn. They 
 had with them Sir Gilbert Godwin. He lay 
 in the bottom of the waggon too drunk to 
 get out of it, with others in the same con- 
 dition. When they were gone a respectable 
 company of men, sitting in the parlour, fell 
 to talking upon Sir Gilbert, and one more 
 intelligent than the rest, not knowing who 
 I was, told me the history of my father."
 
 166 A PRODIGAL'S PROGEESS. 
 
 " 'Tis a little man, with sharp eyes.'' 
 
 " He is, sir." 
 
 "I know him, and have had to forbid 
 him my house. 'Tis the man I likened to 
 tlie old woman who probed my wound. 
 Well, lad?" 
 
 " One part of his story seemed to me to 
 furnish strong presumptive evidence of 
 Father Dominick being the murderer of 
 ]ny mother, and that was the fact that my 
 father's wife gave birth to a son soon after 
 her marriage, who, by the faithful likeness 
 he bears to Father Dominick, proves his 
 paternity." 
 
 " Except that it swells the mass of shame 
 and disgrace, what does that fact do ? " 
 
 " It proves the motive which is wanted 
 to explain why my mother was murdered. 
 It was to provide a home and a fortune for 
 the priest's son, and to silence the tongue 
 of his mistress, who otherwise might have 
 betrayed him to my father that my mother 
 was killed."
 
 A GKAVE DISCUSSIOX. 167 
 
 Captain Davenant took a turn up and 
 down the room, while he reflected upon the 
 matter in silence, and then pausing before 
 Blase, he said : 
 
 " My boy, I do not wish to discourage 
 you in your laudable desire to free your 
 father from the dominion of these evil 
 people. I hope with all my heart you 
 may succeed ; but I would warn you from 
 relying too strongly on the effect this evi- 
 dence will have upon your father, lest its 
 failure might disappoint you unduly. 
 The busybody who told you this, has 
 drawn the same conclusions as 3'OU^ and 
 shown them to me as an inducement for 
 me to accept his assistance. It seemed to 
 me then, as it seems now, a weak reed to 
 rest on. For surely this resemblance 
 between son and father — I do not doubt 
 for a moment Father Dominick's culpa- 
 bility — must have struck your father, and 
 forced him to form a tolerably just estimate
 
 168 A PEODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 of tlie virtue of these people. And if a 
 man can tamely brook such a palpable 
 offence against him, believe me he will not 
 be greatly aroused by the refutable charge 
 of injury against a woman whom he long- 
 since ceased to love." 
 
 Blase could make no response. 
 
 '' Great God ! " ejaculated the captain, 
 as lie again paced the little room, "is it 
 possible that any of Thy creatures can be 
 so insensible to Thine awful justice, that 
 even at the close of life they are not moved 
 to repentance ! Think, my boy, what this 
 man must have had before his eyes these 
 five and twenty years — the recollection of 
 a young and beautiful woman still bearing 
 her first infant in her arms, whose life he 
 took. When his guilt first appeared to 
 me, I said to my brother George, who 
 would have had me take the law against 
 liim, " Let him go. His sin is too great 
 for the lenient punishment of our laws.
 
 A GRAVE DISCUSSION. 169 
 
 Heaven will avenge the wrong he has 
 done, and through his own conscience mete 
 out a retribution more just to his offence. 
 Yet, lo ! twenty-five years have passed, 
 and for all we know he suffers not one 
 pang ; nay, so little is he touched with 
 remorse, that he perpetrates sin on sin, 
 crime on crime, as is shown by the history 
 of this poor fellow, John Hutchins." 
 
 " There is the reason, sir, for my en- 
 deavour to overthrow him. By George ! 
 might not one take such a rascal by the 
 throat and squeeze the life from him as 
 from a venomous adder ! " 
 
 " Govern the impulse, Blase. All may 
 be lost and nothing gained by violence. 
 You will not attempt this task to-day. Do 
 not, I beg of you. Stay with me and think 
 it coolly over, and go when you feel that 
 you are master of yourself, for then only can 
 you be master of such a man as that." 
 
 ^'I will abide by your counsel, sir. A
 
 170 A PRODIGAL'S PEOGKESS. 
 
 day's delay can make but little difference 
 to my father ; and I do not think I could 
 stand just now in the presence of that 
 villainous priest with folded hands." 
 
 "Good, very good, my boy," said Captain 
 Davenant, with a sigh of relief. Then his 
 countenance brightening with the transition 
 of his thoughts to a pleasanter subject, he 
 added, "We will send over to Kockford at 
 once for John Hutchins and his child. Aunt 
 Gerty will be mad with joy, having you in 
 the house and a couple of unfortunate folks 
 to befriend. She won't be able to play a 
 sober game at cribbage for a month. 'Tis 
 wonderful how that good soul's feelings 
 rule her play. I have known her to over- 
 look a flush of five on account of a lying- 
 in ; and Christmas time plays the deuce 
 with her arithmetic, so that she will peg 
 herself seven when she shows three fifteens 
 and six by pairs. AVell, well, could we 
 play cribbage at all times without mis-
 
 A GEAYE DISCUSSIOX. 171 
 
 takes, there would be little joy or care in 
 the world. Bailey shall borrow a cart in 
 the village, and go fetch the poor souls." 
 
 "As for that, sir_, I came over in a chaise^ 
 which is put up at the ale-house. But — 
 there's a little difficulty " 
 
 " Out with it/' my boy. 
 
 " You must know, sir, that I have a kind 
 of half servant, half companion, who ac- 
 companies me ; a churchman, and he also 
 is at Rockford." 
 
 " A churchman — whv he shall be wel- 
 come, be sure. There's nothing I like 
 better after dinner than a good stiff theo- 
 logical discussion." 
 
 " And there's nothing," thought Blase^ 
 " that the parson likes better after dinner 
 than a good stiff glass of gin and water 
 and light conversation."
 
 172 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MR. TICKEL TAKES SUPPER AT REDAVATER 
 HOUSE. 
 
 Blase wrote a short note to Mr. Tickel, 
 bidding him dine at the inn — it was now 
 past eleven o'clock — pay the bill, and come 
 on without further delay to Redwater, 
 bringing with him a man named John 
 Hutchins and his daughter, and the valises. 
 This note was sent by Bailey (who, having 
 removed his livery, was once more engaged 
 in sweeping the drive) to the driver of the 
 chaise at the ale-house in Rickham. 
 
 About five in the afternoon a comfort- 
 able coach-and-pair brought the luxurious 
 parson, with John Hutchins and his 
 daughter, up the drive. It surprised Blase 
 to find that the daughter was a young
 
 AT EEDWATER HOUSE. 173 
 
 woman, for lie had somehow formed an idea 
 of her as being still a child ; but it surprised 
 him still more upon drawing near to find 
 that her pretty face was the same he had 
 seen peeping throngh the bedroom curtains 
 of the Bag o' Nails, in the morning. It was 
 dusk, yet he saw that a blush suffused her 
 cheeks with crimson, that her eyes were 
 downcast, and that there was a pretty em- 
 barrassment in her manner as she curtseyed 
 to him and Captain Davenant. 
 
 " I hope you will accept my hospitality 
 and consider my house as your home during 
 your stay at Eedwater, Mr. Tickel," said 
 Captain Davenant, when Blase had intro- 
 duced the parson. 
 
 " I am your humble servant, sir," replied 
 Mr. Tickel, " and proud of the privilege of 
 being introduced to one whose name and 
 eulogies I have heard so frequently from 
 my young friend here." Then finding 
 opportunity for an aside, he said to Blase,
 
 174 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 with a wink of approval, " I only hope we 
 are to stay here. 'Gad I smell the roast 
 already, and the ride has given my appetite 
 a whet as you shall see." 
 
 " Mr. Hutchins," said Captain Davenant, 
 ^' I have heard with sorrow the history of 
 your misfortunes from my grandson ; and 
 if you will not take it amiss to receive 
 assistance from strange hands, my daughter 
 and I will endeavour to find you some 
 remunerative occupation which will ohviate 
 the necessity of your returning to the sea- 
 faring life, for which it seems you have a 
 disinclination. For you, my dear," he said, 
 addressing John Hutchins's daughter, " I 
 believe my daughter can provide, if you 
 are disposed to accept service. Until suit- 
 able arrangements are concluded, I beg you 
 both to accept the shelter of my roof." 
 
 " Sir," said John Hutchins, fingering the 
 hat he held in his hand, " I know not how 
 to thank you. I have received so little
 
 AT TtEDWATER HOUSE. 175 
 
 kindness in my life that I have not learnt 
 the common expressions of gratitude. But 
 believe me, sir, the generosity of Mr. God- 
 win and this unlooked-for kindness on your 
 part, makes me desire no greater happiness 
 than to make you aware of my due appre- 
 ciation." 
 
 This proper address gave the old captain 
 complete satisfaction, for happily he could 
 not know that the latter part had been 
 laboriously studied from the dictation of 
 Mr. Tickel in the carriage, and so he dis- 
 missed the father and daughter with a 
 gracious smile and nod of approval, signing 
 to Bailey to lead them to the servants' hall. 
 
 " We take supper at eight, Mr. Tickel ; 
 but if you would like a glass of home-made 
 wine and a slice of cake in advance " 
 
 " Thank you, Captain Davenant. I thank 
 you with all my heart ; but I have that 
 respect for your cook which forbids me to 
 play such a trick upon my appetite."
 
 17G A PRODIGAL'S PEOGEESS. 
 
 '' In tliat case, sir, Blase shall show you 
 your room at once." 
 
 They entered the house ; the parson ex- 
 pressed rapturous admiration of everything 
 that met his eyes, and paused in the hall ta 
 examine the old pictures, which in that 
 light there was no possibility of seeing. 
 " What's this I hear ? " he whispered to 
 Blase, as they ascended the stairs — " ' Cake,' 
 cake ! cake, for a man like me." 
 
 *'And home-made wine," said Blase, 
 gravely. 
 
 '' Hemlock rather ! Home-made wine ! 
 Not while my name's Tickel. Home-made 
 wine ! 'Twas a jest, of course. Why the 
 house smells of the buttery. I catch a whiff 
 of cobwebs and old oak sawdust every time 
 I inhale a breath. Wait till the port 
 appears, I shall give the old gentleman my 
 opinion upon home-made wine. I shall 
 have my little joke ready." 
 
 " I don't think my grandfather cares for 
 jokes of that kind."
 
 xVT BED WATER HOUSE. 177 
 
 "Thanks for telling me. I know some 
 of these old soakers have their hobbies ; 
 but to think of a man with a house like 
 this talking of home-made wine. Hum ! " 
 They had come to the bedroom. "No 
 fire ! " 
 
 " My grandfather never lights a fire, ex- 
 cept in the dining-room, until December." 
 
 "A devilish long while to wait for a 
 warm. But / don't complain ; for happily 
 my nature is one which accommodates itself 
 to the irregularities of life; and so that I 
 have but my stomach well filled with sub- 
 stantial cheer, and my system thoroughly 
 warmed with wines or spirits, I can man- 
 age to keep warm in such a bed as this. 
 Look you. Blase, 'tis an ell thick of goose 
 down. Ha ! ha ! I see our rigid host's 
 weakness." 
 
 " 'Tis not for feathers. I believe he 
 sleeps on a mattress by preference." 
 
 " Tut, tut ! The prejudices which lay 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 ITS A PRODIGAL^S PllOGRESS. 
 
 hold upon old men are prodigious, and ten 
 times more terrible than the natural dis- 
 eases. I would rather die green, my 
 young friend, than live to be tormented 
 by crotchets whereby the very salt of life 
 loses its savour. See what this worthy old 
 gentleman misses by his fancies ; for is 
 there anvthins: more soothinsr to the soul 
 than to he half biu'ied in a downy bed. 
 watchino: the flickerinfr reflections of a fire 
 on the wall, until the eyes, subdued by the 
 grateful glow, close in delicious languor, 
 and the soul melts with an exquisite sense 
 of beatitude into unconsciousness." 
 
 " Come, you old heathen, are you ready 
 to descend?" 
 
 "One moment, Blase. There's nothing 
 like a good rinse of the face before eating. 
 By the way, my young friend, 'twas an 
 unhandsome trick you played upon me this 
 morning, leaving me alone and not a word 
 to tell what had become of vou. That
 
 AT BEDWATER HOUSE. 179 
 
 slanderiiLg little inaii was round again this 
 morning, and I expected every minnte that 
 there'd be violence done by that viHain of 
 an innkeeper, ^ii:.: chance think yon a 
 man of my ^ii: mid have of getting out 
 of a horse pond ? ^n v did yon not rap at 
 my door?" 
 
 "' Kicking the door could not wake yon.'' 
 '^ A^L, 11 j wonder I slept heavy when 
 I did drop off, which was not till day was 
 breaking, for believe me. Blase, I could not 
 get a wink all night for thinking of the 
 vile things said against yon last evening. 
 Well, I am determined 111 worry myself 
 no more abont that. I srr.: a lad to the 
 inn "where "we ?";''^":^ vf^Trriav, for the 
 th:::^- I 'f- Z >. my yonng 
 
 ^^iri. .1. :'-:.' t;-;,^ :, pc::;r :"::^-le we had on 
 Z Did yon see how the rascals 
 : r : r iriy valise? Bnt I managed to 
 :?c:_ : em off; 'tis astonishing 
 
 w:, : i:ian can do when he's pnt to it. I
 
 180 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 should have killed the rascal if he had 
 stayed." 
 
 " You unblushing old rascal ! Didn t 3'ou 
 drop the bag and run before the fellows 
 were out of the bush ? " 
 
 "Not I," said the parson stoutly; "I 
 didn't budge till I saw you in danger ; and 
 then 'twas but to fetch help for you. How- 
 ever, we will say no more of that ; I am 
 not boastful. But 'twas mighty odd that 
 just as I ran for succour in one direction, 
 assistance should come to you from t'other, 
 wasn't it ? I fell into conversation with 
 John Hutchins, and to my surprise, heard 
 how he came up and carried your bag for 
 you ! " 
 
 " Now T see how the cards lie. You 
 have given this precious version of your 
 story to him, and repeat it to me to fore- 
 stall discovery." 
 
 "Be sure I told him nothing but the 
 truth. You should know me well enough
 
 AT REDWATER HOUSE. 181 
 
 for that, mj young friend. Pslia ! I detest 
 this cat-and-dog conversation. Let us be 
 genial, Blase, let us be pleasant. "What do 
 jou think of John Hutchins's daughter, 
 little Peggy, eh, my boy ? There's a pretty 
 round, white, little chin, eh? and what 
 eyes ! What merry little twinklers ! As 
 sweet a little rogue as I should wish to see. 
 The father's a good, honest fellow. He 
 told me how he lost his prize-money ; and 
 it seems he's willing to accept any honest 
 means of obtaining a livelihood. If you 
 take my advice. Blase, you will have him 
 fitted with a decent suit of clothes, and 
 make him your body servant." 
 
 " Have I not just discharged all my 
 servants because I could not afford to keep 
 them?" 
 
 " That's true. But you have given this 
 Hutchins a guinea or two, and I would 
 like to know liow you can get rid of him 
 after that ? "
 
 182 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 Blase was deep in thought, and made- 
 no reply. 
 
 '' Tf you must be generous/' continued 
 the parson, drawing on his wig neatlj'^ 
 "and are hard jDressed, it is necessary to 
 be economical ; and I ask you, as a rational 
 being, if it is not better to keep Hutchins 
 as your servant on ten shillings a week 
 than to give him some four or five guineas 
 once a inonth because the poor wretch can't 
 get employment ? He's a sturdy, strongs 
 fellow, and we're in a lawless ydvt of the 
 comitry, where one can't walk a couple of 
 miles withont being set upon by footpads. 
 Your birth and position require that you 
 should have one servant at least ; and I 
 can tell you. Blase, that it is not quite 
 consistent with my character as a church- 
 man to be lugging travelling bags at your 
 heels." 
 
 " I have one word of caution to give 
 you," said Blase, who had paid no heed
 
 AT REDWATER HOUSE. 183 
 
 to the latter part of Mr. Tickel's observa- 
 tions — "Do not let it be known to my 
 grandfatber, or any one in tliis bouse, tbat 
 I am in need of money." 
 
 " My young friend, you may rely upon 
 my discretion. 'Tis an unpleasant fact 
 wbicb I will not acknowledge to myself 
 wbilst tbere's a cbance of tbe difficulty 
 being overcome. There's no other bint 
 tbat may serve us ? " 
 
 " None." 
 
 On tbe top of tbe staircase tbe parson 
 sniffed tbe air critically, and said in a low 
 voice to Blase : 
 
 " Hauncb of venison, or I'm a Dutch- 
 man." 
 
 Candles were lit upon tbe table in the 
 dining-room, and the twinkle of the 
 polished silver and glittering glass ar- 
 ranged on the snowy cloth were reflected 
 in tbe parson's eyes as they dwelt upon 
 these magnificent preparations for a repast.
 
 184 A PKODIGAL'S PEOGRESS. 
 
 Captain Davenant introduced his daugh- 
 ter to Mr. Tickel, and they sat before the 
 fire until Bailey, having finished the 
 arrangement of the table, came towards 
 them and, with a low bow, announced that 
 liis mistress and master were served ; then 
 they took their seats, and Captain Dave- 
 nant, in deference to Mr. Tickel's cloth, 
 said : 
 
 '' Sir, may I ask you to bless our meal ? " 
 IMr. Tickel, who was sitting beside Aunt 
 (jrertrude, witli a broad, bland smile upon 
 his face, heard the request with as much 
 astonishment as an exile, after many, many 
 years, might listen to words sj^oken in the 
 land of his birth. Then, suddenly com- 
 prehending the situation, he dropped his 
 head, and an awful gravity overspread 
 his countenance. In the long silence 
 that ensued Blase found it difficult to 
 look serious. For full three minutes 
 they sat w^ith bowed heads in silence
 
 AT EEDWATER HOUSE. 185 
 
 before the parson could recollect fitting 
 words for the occasion. 
 
 " Ar-mnn ! " said the old servant im- 
 pressively when at length grace was 
 said. 
 
 The parson raised his head with a pro- 
 found sigh of relief, and glanced across the 
 table at Blase, who however carefully 
 avoided meeting his eye for fear of be- 
 traying his feelings. 
 
 Then Bailey, pulling back the cuffs from 
 his knuckles, removed the cover from the 
 great dish, but with some difficulty, because 
 of its size and weight ; and Blase had to 
 fix his eyes more steadfastly than ever on 
 his bread, lest he should catch a glimpse 
 of the parson's face. 
 
 Indeed, it was a study at that moment, 
 for, eagerly following the first movements 
 of the servant to see what rich and luscious 
 meat that grand cover concealed, his eyes 
 fell first on a large space of silver, then on
 
 186 A PEODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 a moderately broad space of white napkin, 
 and finally on a dozen snippets of toast 
 spread with melted cheese. 
 
 It was a dish such as the parson had in. 
 liis recollection never before sat down to. 
 Astonishment for a moment held his 
 tongue ; then, curiosity overcoming that 
 feeling, he said timidly : 
 
 " May I ask — ah — what this dainty little 
 dish is ? " 
 
 " Eammequins, sir, rammequins," replied 
 Captain Davenant ; '' a favourite dish of 
 my daughter's." 
 
 " Then it must be excellent indeed," Mr. 
 Tickel said gallantly ; after which he added 
 in a reflective murmur, " Eammequins." 
 
 Captain Davenant served his daughter 
 with three of the snippets, tlien he offered 
 three to Mr. Tickel. 
 
 " One, Captain Davenant, if you please," 
 said the parson, who was not quite sure 
 whether he should like the Iiors cToeuvre.
 
 AT EEDWATER HOUSE. 187 
 
 '' Oh, sir, no ceremony I beg," cried tlie 
 captain. " You admitted that you were 
 hungry." 
 
 " My appetite is imabated I assure you, 
 Sir. 
 
 " Then I shall insist upon you taking 
 your full share." 
 
 Mr. Tickel made no opposition. What 
 was one or two mouthfuls more or less to 
 one who intended to eat till the courses 
 were all removed ? 
 
 "Welsh rare-bit, as I live," said the 
 parson to himself, as he tasted the delicacy. 
 " Well, of all the thiugs in the world to 
 begin a supper with this is the strangest." 
 
 The servant coming behind him with 
 two large tankards, asked if he would " lia' 
 zome ale or zome zider." 
 
 " No cider, thank you," said Mr. Tickel, 
 feeling a painful twinge in his stomach 
 with the ver}' suggestion, " A little ale — 
 not much."
 
 188 A PRODIGAL'S PEOGRESS. 
 
 AYlien Blase had eaten liis toast and 
 clieese, lie cut himself a crust and buttered 
 it. Mr. Tickel looked across at liim in 
 silent wonder. Captain Davenant followed 
 tlie example, and lielped himself to a 
 morsel of bread and butter, and passed 
 the loaf to tlie parson, who, not to look 
 dainty, cut a crust and made a pretence 
 of eating it. 
 
 " If I ruin my appetite with any more 
 nonsense of this kind may I be shot," said 
 Mr. Tickel to himself. ^' They take it 
 pretty leisurely to begin with ; but if we 
 go on at this rate wlien sliall we finish ? " 
 
 Captain Davenant now started tlie sub- 
 ject of Catholic disabilities, and as this 
 was a subject on which the parson was 
 supposed to know something, he had to 
 concentrate all his thoughts on the subject 
 for a while in order to conceal his igno- 
 rance; but a faintness came over him at the 
 thought that they had come to the Church
 
 AT EEDWATER HOUSE. ISD 
 
 and State before a glass of wine had 
 been emptied. It somewhat restored his 
 courage to see the great dish removed, for 
 he counted on the next course to open a 
 new subject of conversation. When the 
 old servant returned he carried off the 
 silver and glass piece by piece, and finally 
 took away the table cloth, when the 
 curiosity experienced by Mr. Tickel during 
 the earlier part of the proceedings gave 
 place to a feeling of intense dismay. 
 
 Not a sign of hot grog, not a sign even 
 of more ale followed the withdrawal of the 
 cloth, and when at length the trying con- 
 versation upon ecclesiastical subjects was 
 brought to an end, and Mr. Tickel retired 
 to his bed-chamber, he was in a condition 
 to eat cake and drink home-made wine 
 with a relish. 
 
 " Three little rammequins and a glass of 
 table beer," he groaned, as he laid his head 
 on the pillow. In the night he awoke from
 
 190 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 a liideous dream, produced by the cravings 
 of liimger, and as he turned over upon his 
 side, he murmured once more : 
 
 " Three rammequins and a glass of table- 
 beer."
 
 ( 191 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 BLASE GOES AMONGST HIS FOES, AND IS 
 DISCOMFORTED. 
 
 Godwin's Moat was one of tliose ancient 
 fortified dwelling-houses of which but few 
 exist now in England. It stood in a 
 valley — a quadrangular building with 
 high pointed gables at the four corners, 
 a square watch tower on the eastern side, 
 commanding the low stone arched way 
 which replaced the ancient drawbridge, 
 and the upper story half-timbered in the 
 early English style overhanging the moat, 
 which surrounded the house and gave it 
 its name. On the western side another 
 bridge communicated with the garden, 
 which extended beyond three sides of the
 
 192 A PRODIGAL'S PROGEESS. 
 
 moat, and was enclosed by a, thick holly 
 hedge. The eastern front was open to the 
 road. A low stone parapet ran round the 
 outer edge of the moat, and a pair of iron 
 gates closed the way by the bridge to the 
 east entrance below the watch tower. 
 
 It was to these gates Blase Godwin 
 came. Finding them fastened he raug the 
 deep-toned bell, and, waiting for admission, 
 looked about him for those signs of dis- 
 order which he naturally expected to see. 
 He found nothing to bear out his antici- 
 pations ; there were no indications of con- 
 fiscation and neglect such as the little 
 bookseller had predicted. The house was 
 in perfect repair, the gardens neat and well 
 kept, the woods rising from the valley 
 showed no significant gaps, and the arable 
 lands belonging to the estate through 
 which the road passed were still under 
 cultivation. 
 
 A servant came to the gate.
 
 BLASE IS DISCOMFORTED. 193 
 
 " Is Sir Gilbert at home ? " Blase asked. 
 
 ^' Ees, master, lie be." 
 
 " Open tbe gate." 
 
 " Be you Master Grodwin, zur ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 The servant at once unlocked the gate, 
 while Blase threw himself off his horse, 
 speculating on the means by which his 
 visit had been anticipated. 
 
 "Where is Sir Gilbert?" he asked, 
 handing the reins to the servant. 
 
 "He be a taking of his lunch in the 
 hall, but you be to go in to the lib'ry, zur." 
 
 Blase strode through the gateway be- 
 neath the tower, and passing the passage 
 which led to the library, crossed the 
 paved quadrangle towards the steps which 
 fronted the door of the long dining hall. 
 
 It was not possible that he could feel 
 any strong affection for the mother he had 
 lost before he was of an age to remember, 
 but a feeling of awe came upon him as he 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 194 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 glanced up at that part of the building 
 where the unfortunate lady had been mur- 
 dered ; and she was still in his mind when , 
 opening the door, his eyes fell directly upon 
 the man who had murdered her. 
 
 Father Dominick was seated at the table, 
 a bilious looking, lean man, with eyes and 
 an expression that reminded one of a 
 hawk, with a narrow head and a few locks 
 of grey hair which fell from a little black 
 skull cap, and were taken back behind his 
 ears. 
 
 He rose from his chair and bent his head 
 low as Blaze entered. Taking no notice of 
 this salutation. Blase turned his eyes to the 
 head of the table where his father sat. Sir 
 Gilbert's fists were planted on the table, 
 holding upright his knife and fork ; the 
 latter supported a piece of brawn. The 
 baronet, slowly turning over a huge mouth- 
 ful of food, looked at his son with stolid, 
 heavy eyes, which expressed about equal
 
 BLASE IS DISCOMFOETED. 195 
 
 parts of curiosity and indifference. He 
 seemed to Blase like an ox who turns from 
 his manger, and without ceasing to munch, 
 regards an intruder. 
 
 Blase had time to glance at Mrs. God- 
 win, and her son Eugenius, before Sir 
 Gilbert spoke. 
 
 Mrs. Godwin was, as he had seen her 
 before, a handsome, showy woman, with 
 quick intelligence in her long sly eyes. 
 She was dressed in the latest and most 
 voluptuous fashion, which displayed her 
 fine white arms, and a large proportion of 
 her bust. She made a familiar inclination 
 to Blase, and only smiled when he stared 
 with unbending front in response. 
 
 Eugenius had risen from his seat, facing 
 Father Dominick, and now making a step 
 towards Blase, extended his right hand. 
 Blase put his hands in his pockets, and 
 stared him in the face. Eugenius was a 
 boy when Blase had last seen him ; he was
 
 196 A PRODiaAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 now a man. The resemblance between 
 him and Father Dominick, although 
 naturally much modified by the distin- 
 guishing characteristics of age and youth, 
 was yet sufficiently proDOunced to be un- 
 mistakable. A peculiarity in the eyebrows 
 of the priest was repeated in the son's, and 
 was in itself sufficiently unusual to strike 
 a careless observer. The curved ridges of 
 the brow were marked only in their ascent 
 from the nose ; and this gave them the 
 appearance of being shaved away in half 
 their development. For the rest the young 
 man was of good figure and not ill -looking. 
 
 He dropped his hand by his side when 
 Blase refused to take it, and stood with 
 bent head and downcast eyes in an attitude 
 of humility before him. 
 
 " He knows he's a bastard, poor hound," 
 thought Blase, with a feeling of compassion. 
 
 '* Well, Blase," said Sir Gilbert, having 
 partly disposed of his mouthful ; then he
 
 BLASE IS DISCOMFORTFD. 197 
 
 clapped the morsel on liis poised fork into 
 his capacious mouth, and champing that, 
 set his fist on the table again, and fixed his 
 sluggish gaze upon his son. 
 
 " I wish to sj)eak to you, sir, when you 
 are disposed to give me a few minutes in 
 private." 
 
 Sir Gilbert moved his lips as if he 
 wished to speak, but finding it impracti- 
 cable, he made a significant gesture with his 
 fork, and confined his efforts to mastication. 
 
 " I heard that a gentleman from London, 
 in the company of a stout man, who said he 
 was a clergyman, had been attacked upon 
 the road by footpads, and that they had 
 gone to Eedwater," said Father Dominick ; 
 " and concluding that you were that gentle- 
 man, and would in all probability come to 
 visit your father, I instructed the servant 
 to show you into the library." 
 
 " In this house," said Blase, " I go where 
 I please, unless forbidden by my father."
 
 198 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 "I was about to add," said Father 
 Dominick quietly, "that I gave this 
 order, thinking that you would like better 
 to talk with Sir Gilbert in private, than 
 in the presence of those with whom you 
 find him now." 
 
 " You were right, sir, in supposing that 
 I should wish to see my father alone rather 
 than in your company," said Blase. 
 
 " Enough of this wrangling ; 'tis a mean 
 sort of fisticuffs," said Sir Gilbert, pushing 
 his chair back from the table. He drank 
 off a glass of ale, wiped his mouth with 
 the corner of the table-cloth, and rising 
 continued, " we will get this business over 
 and be done with it at once. Wife, give 
 us a buss." 
 
 His wife kissed him, and he, having 
 returned her salute and bestowed an 
 admiring glance upon her charms, thrust 
 his hands in his breeches pockets and 
 slouched into the adjoining room, where
 
 BLASE IS DISCOMFORTED. 199 
 
 he dropped into the big chair before the 
 fire, set his feet on the dogs, and fell to 
 whistling a jig softly between his teeth. 
 When he had finished this overture, which 
 was expressive of a determination to make 
 the best of a bad job, he turned his head, 
 without taking his hands from his pockets, 
 and casting a glance at Blase, who had 
 closed the door and seated himself a couple 
 of yards from his side, he said : 
 
 " Well, Blase, here you are back again, 
 like a bad sixpence." 
 
 " 'Tis a matter for regret, sir, that I feel 
 as keenly as you do." 
 
 " We can't both talk at once, so the 
 question is, will you speak first or shall 
 I?" 
 
 Blase bowed in silence, and his father 
 continued : 
 
 " We all knew you would come back 
 with your tail between your legs sooner 
 or later ; and as I saw no advantage to
 
 200 A prodigal's progress. 
 
 myself or you by spinning out the length 
 of your tether in London, I refused to let 
 you have any more money when you had 
 run through the amount set aside for you. 
 And here you are sure enough. I needn't 
 tell you that I'm ashamed of you. You 
 know well enough whether you've done 
 anything to earn a father's respect or not. 
 You haven't even run a horse at New- 
 market. For eight years you have had 
 the finest chances of distinguishing your- 
 self that ever a young fellow could desire. 
 You have had unlimited means and liberty. 
 You might have gone into parliament and 
 thundered with all your lungs at that arch- 
 traitor, Fox ; you might have won a 
 title ; you might have bred the finest 
 stud of horses in the country. But no, 
 you chose to sneak about the sinks and 
 gullies of London, punting at faro, or some 
 such miserable pastime. Hows'ever, there's 
 an end of that. To forgive is the duty
 
 BLASE IS DISCOMFORTED. 201 
 
 of a father, and a d — d hard duty it 
 is. So to come to the point at once, if 
 you choose to lay aside your company 
 manners and tragedy airs, and behave 
 with decent civiHty to the people in this 
 house, you shall have your chamber, and 
 your servant, and your horse, and as much 
 to eat and drink as you can wish for in 
 this house ; and if you are for joining me 
 in good honest English sports, you sha'n't 
 have to ask twice for pocket money. 
 These be the terms I have to offer you, 
 and you may thank Father Dominick and 
 my wife that they are so liberal ; for of 
 my own part I should have given you 
 nothing, being I bear you no love, for 
 you never showed either affection or re- 
 spect for me, but was ever a rebellious 
 young cub, breeding discord at home and 
 carrying your whining grievances to my 
 enemies. So there you are. I hate a lot 
 of words, so you needn't trouble yourself
 
 202 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 to reply. If you want money to spend 
 elsewhere you won't get it, and if nothing 
 else will suit you, waste no time here but 
 go at once. But if you're for striking 
 a good bargain while you have the chance, 
 give me a slap o' the hand and cry 
 ' done.' " 
 
 Sir Gilbert took his fat hand from his 
 pocket as he said this, seeming to expect 
 that Blase would close with the offer at 
 once. 
 
 " I have not come to make a bargain 
 with you, sir," said Blase. " I have not 
 come even to ask you for money. My 
 object is to reclaim you, if possible, from 
 your present debased and contemptible 
 position." 
 
 " Well, this is a good 'un, upon my 
 life ! " exclaimed the baronet, pushing 
 back his chair to face Blase, and crossing 
 his arms upon his great chest. '' As 
 pretty a case of pot and kettle as ever I
 
 BLASE IS DISCOMFORTED. 203 
 
 beared on. Will your impudence have the 
 goodness to point out where I am in 
 fault?" 
 
 " It is unnecessary, sir, to tell you that 
 the company you keep is disreputable, and 
 that you are shunned by every respectable 
 family in the county. I shall only " 
 
 " That for your respectable families ! " 
 cried Sir Grilbert, interrupting Blase, and 
 snapping his thumb and finger. " What 
 care I for the pragmatic coxcombs, the 
 hypocrites who avoid me because I have 
 the courage to do in public what they 
 practice in secret? The company I keep 
 is composed of honest lads of thew and 
 muscle, ready at any moment to turn out 
 with sickle and scythe to meet the invader, 
 while these sneaking gentry would be 
 fleeing the country for safety. I am an 
 Englishman, and an Englishman of the 
 old school, and I value an honest labourer 
 above vour dukes and your marquises.
 
 204 A PKODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 and I don't care a snap for any man in the 
 world, damme ! " 
 
 " There are rules of living wliicli you by 
 your rank as a gentleman of England are 
 bound to observe." 
 
 " I will do as I please ; and what I 
 think fit shall be my law." 
 
 '' Sir," said Blase, altering his tone, for 
 he saw that nothing could be done while 
 his father was in a state of irritation, " I 
 learn that when you came of age, fathers 
 bade their sons be like you." 
 
 " Well, well ! " said the baronet, greatly 
 mollified ; ''I had my good points, I'll 
 admit." 
 
 " If your principles were admirable then, 
 they should be no less admirable now, when 
 you have a title and a name to support." 
 
 " As for my principles, I warrant I was 
 as arrant a puppy as you ; though let me 
 tell you, sir, I hadn't the impudence to take 
 my own father to task."
 
 BLASE IS DISCOMFOKTED. 205 
 
 " Did you ever hear a word said against 
 your father ? " 
 
 " No. Begad I'd have broken the head 
 of any one who dared to utter as much as 
 a word against him." 
 
 " Would to heaven, father, there was 
 nothing but a shirt between the breast of 
 him who assails your honour and my sword." 
 
 " Ad's my life, that's well said. What, 
 you have courage, lad ? " 
 
 " Prove it, sir. Give me the right to 
 say to the next who tells me that you are 
 not a gentleman, ' You lie.' " 
 
 Blase sprang from his seat with these 
 words, as if he were actually throwing the 
 lie in the teeth of an adversary. His 
 finely cut handsome features, his admirable 
 manly figure, were seen at that moment to 
 their greatest advantage. 
 
 " I didn't know you had this kind of 
 stuff in you, Blase," said the baronet, 
 looking at his son with pride.
 
 206 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 " Father," said Blase, liis voice trembling 
 with emotion. " Let us begin again, you 
 and I. Let us live clean lives, and use 
 the courage that we have to subdue the 
 evil within us. Let us live together here, 
 and make the name of Godwin as famous 
 for its honourable associations, as in the 
 days when our ancestor won his knight- 
 hood." 
 
 " A mighty tough job. There's a wrest- 
 ling match o' Wednesday, a fight of two 
 bull dogs o' Monday to follow ; why, I've 
 matches made for ten weeks to come." 
 
 *' In a good fight docs a man flinch 
 before odds ? " 
 
 '' Not he, if he's worth backing. This 
 is an unlocked for turn ; it wants con- 
 sidering of. I must take time. I don't 
 say you're altogether wrong ; but I won't 
 say you're right neither. I'm a rare man 
 for considering.'* 
 
 " I take it, sir, you wouldn't take long to
 
 BLASE IS DISCOMFORTED. 207 
 
 consider before resenting an insult put 
 upon you." 
 
 " Not I. Word and a blow is my motto. 
 But this is no affair of insult, and I must 
 talk it over with Father Dominick." 
 
 "It is an affair of insult and of injury. 
 The most outrageous injury has been put 
 upon you, and the only words you have to 
 say to the priest are — leave my house." 
 
 '• What ! tell Father Dominick to leave 
 my house ? " 
 
 "Yes. It is he who has done us the 
 foulest wrong; he and the mistress for 
 whom he has provided the shelter of your 
 roof." 
 
 •' Are you speaking of your mother ? " 
 
 " No, sir ! " cried Blase, in a passion. 
 " I refuse to acknowledge that she is even 
 my father's second wife. I speak of the 
 woman who gave birth to Father Do- 
 minick's son, after he had married her to 
 you."
 
 208 A PKODIGAL'S PROGEESS. 
 
 Sir Gilbert turned his eyes from Blase 
 and looked sullenly upon the floor. 
 
 Blase waited. 
 
 ** Go on, if you have anything more to 
 say," said Sir Gilbert doggedly, after an 
 uncomfortable silence of some minutes. 
 
 " I want to know if you consider it an 
 insult that the son of a faithless priest 
 should be foisted upon you, and made to 
 bear your name ? " 
 
 *' There is no proof of infidelity. As 
 for the likeness, I am convinced 'tis acci- 
 dental. The matter has given rise to the 
 only quarrels I ever had with my wife and 
 my friend ; and 'tis all settled. I have a 
 hundred printed testimonies to resemblances 
 as extraordinary. I'll hear no more of it." 
 Sir Gilbert struck the arm of his chair 
 angrily with his fist. 
 
 "I have a witness to prove the priest's 
 falsity. A man whose wife was cast into 
 gaol, and who himself was impressed and
 
 BLASE IS DISCOMFORTED. 209 
 
 sent to sea by Father Dominick in order to 
 conceal their knowledge from you." 
 
 " You speak of John Hut chins, a liar 
 and a vagabond. Father Dominick has 
 told me of him, and of the story he in- 
 vented to obtain money." 
 
 " Did he tell you of this invention before 
 he sent Hutchins to sea ? " 
 
 " Have done, I say. I will hear no 
 more. I have said I am convinced, and 
 I will listen to no further argument. I 
 hate the subject." 
 
 He thrust his hands deep in his pockets 
 again, stretched out his legs, his head sunk 
 in his shoulders, and an expression of 
 sullen dogged obstinacy settled upon his 
 heavy face. 
 
 " If you will not resent insult to your- 
 self," Blase said, " you must at least do 
 justice to my dead mother." 
 
 " What d ye mean ? " Sir Gilbert asked 
 in unfeigned surprise. 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 210 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 " I have heard within the last two days 
 the secret that Father Dominick has so long 
 and by such subtle means prevented me 
 from knowing. My mother was murdered." 
 
 " I know nothing about subtle means. 
 But if he has kept you from the knowledge 
 of the murder, 'twas done in kindness. 
 He believed it would give you pain to 
 know it." 
 
 "Who murdered my mother ? " 
 
 " A disappointed lover, mad with re- 
 venge because she married me." 
 
 " 'Tis a falsehood ! Father Dominick 
 took her life, to provide a home for his 
 mistress, who threatened to expose him to 
 you, and made that deed the price of her 
 secresy." 
 
 " What stuff is this ? " cried Sir Gilbert, 
 aroused from his stolidity. 
 
 " 'Tis the truth ! " 
 
 " 'Tis a lie ! The fabrication of that old 
 idiot at Redwater."
 
 BLASE IS DISCOMFOETED. 211 
 
 " He has told me nothing. He would 
 have concealed the disgrace from me. I 
 learnt it from the people at Eockford, who 
 have but one opinion on the matter, and 
 declare that villain Dominick to be the 
 murderer." 
 
 " Bah ! Not a word has been breathed 
 to me." 
 
 " Would the fellows who fatten by your 
 degradation do anything to alter your 
 condition ? Those who might have shown 
 you the true character of the people about 
 you have been prevented by the priest." 
 
 '^ How ? " 
 
 " By intimidating some, and making 
 your own disgrace a barrier between the 
 rest and you. Answer me one question, 
 father — Was it by your own wish that you 
 set that woman up in my mother's place so 
 soon after her death ? " 
 
 " What does it matter ? " 
 
 " Judge for yourself by the consequences
 
 212 A PKODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 of that indecent conduct. It separated you 
 at once and for ever from those who were 
 inclined towards you in compassion and 
 forgiveness. 'Twas a sure means of 
 throwing you completely into the power 
 of the priest and his mistress." 
 
 The baronet sprang from his chair with 
 an oath. 
 
 "I'll hear no more. 'Tis a pack of 
 falsehoods to separate me from the woman 
 who has never crossed me by a single word 
 or look, and from the man who has been 
 to me the truest friend I ever had. I see in 
 this story which you have builded up so 
 artfully a specimen of the cunning which 
 report has attributed to you. You have 
 your own ends, I warrant, in this ! " 
 
 " To save you from " 
 
 " Do I want saving ? Is not my estate 
 admirably managed, and every farthing- 
 spent accounted for ? Is not my house 
 well ordered ? Am I not well served ?
 
 BLASE IS DISCOMFOETED. 213 
 
 Is not everything done for my ease and 
 comfort that a loving and true wife can 
 devise ? Have I ever found her doing a 
 mean or false action ? Have I ever had 
 any convincing proof of my priest's falsity? 
 'Tis you whom I have to suspect and 
 guard myself against. Having spent all 
 your money you have a necessity for 
 more, an itch for the acres and title that 
 I am sorry to say must be yours one day. 
 You would be tasting the honey before the 
 hive's empty, and I wager would hesitate 
 at no means of getting 'em out. Why, 
 'tis all clear to me ; and I was a fool to 
 give patient ear to a word of your cunning 
 plot." 
 
 " Father, I implore you to be reasonable." 
 " Ha ! ha ! you whine and beg now that 
 you find hectoring and bombast fail. You 
 would drop down from your former proposal, 
 that we should live together alone, and 
 fight, and the rest of it, to begging a gift of
 
 214 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 twenty pound. Out of this, I say ! your 
 sneaking voice suits me less than your 
 l»ounce. Out of it, I tell you ! or, big as 
 you are, I'll punish you in the old style 
 with an ash stick. Ad's life, I'll have no 
 more of it ! " 
 
 There was something of the savage and 
 the beast in the baronet's sudden accession 
 of fury. He showed the ungovernable 
 ferocity which possesses a dog when he has 
 once made the attack. Blase himself found 
 it difficult to control his temper ; white 
 and trembling with suppressed passion he 
 stood for an instant in silence before his 
 father; then he turned his back upon him, 
 feeling for the moment careless of his fate, 
 and willing to abandon him to the crea- 
 tures for whose society alone he was fit. 
 
 Mrs. Godwin and her son had with- 
 drawn from the dining-hall ; Father Do- 
 minick remained in his seat on that side 
 of the table opposite the door by which
 
 BLASE IS DISCOMFORTED. 215 
 
 Blase had entered. A couple of sturdy 
 liien servants were near him making a 
 pretence of clearing the table. 
 
 Instead of walking to the door Blase 
 passed round the end of the table and 
 walked towards the priest ; instantly the 
 two men placed themselves before him 
 barring the passage. Blase halted. 
 
 '' Father Dominick," he said, " Sir 
 Gilbert has left it to me to sustain the 
 honour of my family. Had you not taken 
 precautions for your safety I should have 
 taken you by the neck and flung you into 
 the moat. I accuse you of murdering my 
 mother, and disgracing my father, in order 
 to provide for the welfare of your mistress 
 and your son, and I call upon you to prove 
 your innocence by meeting me at once 
 with swords in the quadrangle." 
 
 ''You are fully aware, Mr. Godwin," 
 replied Father Dominick, speaking slowly 
 and distinctly, " that my respect for your 
 
 ^
 
 216 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 father and for the Church, of which I am 
 an ordained priest, must prevent me from 
 accepting your challenge, even if I felt 
 inclined to attach importance to a charge 
 made in a moment of anger." 
 
 " I am not surprised at your refusal. A 
 wretch who uses the dagger against a 
 woman could not have the courage to face 
 the sword of a man. Keep a guard about 
 you, for, by the Lord, if we meet man to 
 man you shall not escape the punishment 
 of your crimes."
 
 ( 217 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 BLASE RETURNS TO HIS FRIENDS, AND IS 
 COMFORTED. 
 
 With a rueful countenance Blase trotted 
 back to Rickham, left his nag at the 
 ale-house whence it had been hired, and 
 walked on to Redwater. He found 
 Captain Davenant walking in the drive. 
 
 " Thank God you are safe home again, 
 my boy," the old gentleman said. He 
 turned towards the house, and let his 
 handkerchief flutter in the wind ; from 
 one of the upper windows a handkerchief 
 was waved in reply. " Poor Gerty," said 
 the captain in explanation, " divined 
 whither you had gone, and has suffered 
 great anxiety in consequence, imagining 
 nothing less terrible than that you would
 
 218 A PKODIGAL'S PROGEESS. 
 
 be assassinated. I myself unreasonably 
 sliared her fears to some degree, for age 
 makes women of us — the reason growing- 
 feebler than the heart. Give me your 
 arm, sir — so," he pressed the young man's 
 arm affectionately to his side ; " now tell 
 me what has happened." 
 
 Blase recounted all that had taken place. 
 Captain Davenant listened in silence. 
 
 " 'Tis as we feared," he said, when Blase 
 had finished. " Your father is the slave 
 of his passion for this vile woman, and 
 were her guilt proved he would not have 
 the strength to abandon her. The devilish 
 cunning of Father Dominick provides a 
 fair show of reason to justify Sir Grilbert 
 in the course to which his passions incline 
 him. And against his position thus forti- 
 fied what can our efforts avail ? " 
 
 '' Nothing," said Blase in a tone of deep 
 despondency. " His enemies and ours are 
 too strong for us."
 
 BLASE IS COMFOETED. 219 
 
 " Had it been otherwise I should have 
 avenged my poor child's wrong when my 
 blood was fired with a feeling of revenge. 
 I w^as a yomig man then, and even the 
 shame of making a family misfortune the 
 theme of public scandal would not have 
 stayed me from appealing to the law had 
 I seen a chance of crushing the conspiracy 
 and separating Sir Grilbert from the woman 
 who was the cause of this crime. We can 
 do nothing, Blase. For you, my boy, 'twill 
 be more to your profit to make your own 
 name honourable than to attempt to re- 
 deem your father's." 
 
 Blase did not reply. " 'Tis natural," 
 thought he, " that the old boy should hate 
 my father ; " and then he fell to wondering 
 by what means he could make for himself 
 an honourable position in the world, with 
 which unfruitful speculation he was yet 
 occupied when they came to the steps of 
 the house. • On the top stood Aunt Gerty,
 
 220 A PKODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 her pretty face and sweet eyes radiant 
 with gladness, a bright ribbon in her 
 bosom, and her soft white hair drawn 
 back from her brow under one of those 
 hoods now going out of fasliion but which 
 in her younger days were much com- 
 mended by Mr. Spectator. As she caught 
 sight of her dear nephew's gravely anxious 
 face, her expression became as full of care 
 as his. 
 
 " You are not hurt, dear ? " she said in a 
 tone of tender anxiety. '' Nothing terrible 
 has happened ? " 
 
 " Nothing, dear," said Blase, smiling. 
 "Matters are only just as bad as they 
 were, and the result of my expedition is 
 neither w^orse nor better than w^e expected 
 it to be. 'Tis not a cheerful business, and as 
 it's all over I ought to be gayer than I seem." 
 
 Aunt Gerty kissed him, and so concealed 
 from him whatever emotion this result 
 produced in her mind, then taking him
 
 BLASE IS COMFORTED. 221 
 
 away from her father, she drew him into 
 tlie house, nestling as close to his side as 
 possible and linking her fingers over 
 his arm. 
 
 " You must be tired and famished," she 
 said. " But you shall not be kept waiting 
 for dinner. 'Tis taking off the spit at 
 this moment." 
 
 " We shall dine alone to day," said 
 Captain Davenant. " Our conversation 
 after breakfast turning upon ecclesiastical 
 architecture I spoke of the ruins of Tilton 
 Abbey, whereupon the good man, who 
 seems to be an enthusiast in these matters, 
 begged permission to visit the ancient 
 monument without delay. He was not in 
 the least retarded by hearing it was twelve 
 miles distant. He borrowed a chaise in 
 the village and left here at ten o'clock, 
 taking John Hutchins with him. Grerty, 
 you provided him with some refreshment 
 to take upon the road ? "
 
 222 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 " I cut some sandwiches, and insisted 
 TijDon his taking them, although he declared 
 he could go very well until supper-time 
 without them so long as his mind was 
 occupied. He has suffered greatly, Blase 
 dear, I should think." 
 
 " Not lately, I think," replied Blase. 
 
 " I assure you at breakfast-time I 
 watched his face with painful interest. 
 He wore a most deplorable expression : it 
 may be only the effect of study." 
 
 " That is possible, dear." 
 
 " You cannot tell how glad I am thjit 
 you have such a man for a companion," 
 said Aunt Gertrude. " There are moments 
 when all of us feel the need of serious 
 conversation ; and it must be doubly grati- 
 fying to you after the giddy whiil and 
 turmoil of the day, to listen to his edifying 
 discourse in the calm close of evening." 
 
 " He seemed reluctant to express any 
 decided opinion last evening upon the
 
 BLASE IS COMFORTED. 223 
 
 religious topics of the day," remarked 
 Captain Davenant. 
 
 " Great thinkers are sometimes but poor 
 talkers, I believe, sir," said Blase, not seeing 
 a better excuse for the parson's natural 
 silence with regard to a subject which he 
 never touched upon from year's end to 
 year's end. 
 
 " Modesty is also the characteristic of 
 wise men," said Aunt Gertrude ; " and I 
 am convinced that he is wise, and that he 
 studies a great deal. For I have observed 
 that most of our eminent divines are stout, 
 and 'tis not to be wondered at — the mental 
 occupation required by their function pre- 
 cluding physical exercise." 
 
 " I'd give ten guineas," thought Blase, 
 " for the parson to hear this." 
 
 " The more eminent a divine is," con- 
 tinued Aunt Gertrude, " the stouter he 
 must be." 
 
 " Then Tickel deserves to be a bishop,"
 
 224 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 said Blase, laughing as he took his place 
 at the table. 
 
 With this break in the conversation 
 Blase fell into the sombre mood to which 
 his spirits were most inclined. It was so 
 clear that he was thinking of his father, 
 and suffering from the humiliation of his 
 recent discovery, that his affectionate re- 
 latives could not but suffer with him and 
 for him. Reference to the subject was for- 
 bidden by Captain Davenant's repugnance 
 to open discussion upon it, and Aunt 
 Gertrude's ready wit so forsook her in 
 this emergency that the more she en- 
 deavoured to find some topic which would 
 lead her dear nephew's thoughts into a 
 pleasanter channel the more impossible 
 she found it to speak at all. Often she 
 raised her eyes furtively to glance across 
 the table at him in anxious sympathy. 
 Captain Davenant, on the other hand, 
 firmly repressed his own instinctive move-
 
 BLASE IS COMFORTED. 225 
 
 ments of commiseration, and after clearing- 
 his throat once or twice renewed the con- 
 versation. 
 
 "Talking of Mr. Tickel/' he said, "I 
 spoke with him this morning touching an 
 employment for John Hutchins, and he 
 tells me you intend to engage him as your 
 servant." 
 
 " John Hutchins — ah, yes — there was 
 some talk of it last night, I recollect." 
 
 " I think you will do well to have him. 
 He is an intelligent and fairly educated 
 man, and your kindness has already at- 
 tached him to you in a remarkable degree. 
 He assured me that he desired no better 
 fortune than to serve you." 
 
 " I suppose I must have a servant." 
 
 " No gentleman in your position is with- 
 out one, dear," said Aunt Gertrude. 
 
 "The parson shall settle matters with 
 him, in that case." 
 
 " His daughter I shall keep with me. 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 226 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 She is a lively, pretty, little body. Haiinali 
 is getting old, and tliis young girl will 
 help her and make the house gay. I 
 heard lier singing very prettily this 
 morning. I think slie will be happy 
 with us." 
 
 " She will be, dear, if happiness arises 
 from the kindness of those we love." And 
 with this compliment Blase closed the theme 
 and relapsed into his moody meditations ; 
 whilst those who loved him turned his 
 words over in tlieir minds and put serious 
 constructions upon his most careless obser- 
 vations. 
 
 After dinner, when Captain Davenant 
 retired to his closet to take his habitual 
 doze, and Aunt G-ertrude was thus placed 
 in sole and happy possession of Blase, she 
 poured out her heart to him, making him 
 feel how small his merits were by her 
 lavish yet sincere praises. Her father had 
 spared her the knowledge which he pos-
 
 BLASE IS COMFORTED. 227 
 
 sessed of liis grandson's faults. The only 
 fault she knew was his neglect, and that 
 was forgotten now that he was with her. 
 She was blind as women are to the sins 
 of those they love, and Blase had not the 
 courage to open her eyes to his un worthi- 
 ness. He repented heartily, and vowed to 
 himself that he would henceforth deserve 
 her love and trust. 
 
 " 'Twas good and noble of you, Blase," 
 she said, " to try and turn your father's 
 heart. You have failed, and 'tis but 
 natural in a good son to grieve that such 
 should be the result. But do not despond, 
 dear. The ways of Providence are some- 
 times slow to our impatient view, but 
 surely and unerringly the great work of 
 Justice is wrought to its conclusion. Only 
 when the harvest is gathered can we 
 measure the benefits of rain and heat. Be 
 patient, dear, and do that which seems to 
 you highest and best, and the reward
 
 228 A PRODIGAL'S PEOGllESS. 
 
 must follow. Who knows but that the 
 fame of your good life reaching your 
 father's ear may awake the dormant good- 
 ness in his heart ? " 
 
 " Would it might be so ! " said Blase^ 
 pressing the hand that lay trembling on 
 his arm. " 'Tis the wish nearest to my 
 heart. But what can I do ? I have not 
 thought of the future until now ; I have 
 not thought of being anything but what 
 I am — an idle gentleman. I have not the 
 special gifts which make the statesman, 
 the artist, or the man of science. I know 
 not which way to turn. I am like a vessel 
 in the midst of a sea without a notion of 
 the course I am to steer.'' 
 
 " Be patient, dear, and watchful. Float- 
 ing trifles guided Columbus to a new 
 world. It is not possible for every am- 
 bitious soul to attain to greatness ; but 
 goodness is within the reach of all. Do 
 not believe that I would discourage your
 
 BLASE IS COMFOETED. 229 
 
 aspirations, or have you rest with us a 
 simple country gentleman. Dearly as my 
 lieart desires that you should live here, 
 I would not have you stay a day after 
 you have decided upon a higher career. 
 -Nature has not made you for inaction, my 
 dear, dear Blase. You have a noble brow ; 
 your features distinguish you from ordinary 
 men ; your character, even as a child, was 
 not that of other children. Wait patiently 
 until the moment comes when your eye 
 detects the advantage of quick action. The 
 smith stands idle till the iron whitens ; 
 then — he strikes." 
 
 Blase was silent, wondering how long 
 he could afford to wait idle. Gertrude, 
 watching his face, seemed to catch his 
 thought, for she said, with a little hesita- 
 tion : 
 
 " I want to speak to you upon another 
 subject, not altogether disconnected with 
 what we have been talking about."
 
 230 A PRODIGAL'S PEOGEESS. 
 
 " I am all attention, dear." 
 
 " You said at dinner-time that you sup- 
 posed you must keep a servant, in a tone 
 which seem^ed to imply that — that, if you 
 could dispense with one, you would." 
 
 " Why, how you catch at my words ^ 
 you anxious, kind soul ! " cried Blase, 
 " 'Tis likely enough my tone represented 
 my feelings, though I have no remem- 
 brance of them. Servants are a plague, 
 and I have felt less worried since I left 
 London with none than I did before with 
 half a dozen." 
 
 " Is that the sole reason for your doing 
 without them ? " 
 
 "Why — you see — they are, to be sure, 
 expensive ; and one must study economy 
 somewhat, be he ever so hairbrained." 
 
 " I thought it might have something to 
 do with the expense. Your father may 
 be less liberally disposed towards you after 
 the visit of to-day, and so, dear, I want
 
 BLASE IS COMFORTED. 231 
 
 you to accept this.*' Slie slipped into liis 
 hand a little silk-covered purse, with the 
 initials B. Gr., neatly embroidered in the 
 centre. It might have contained notes 
 for ten thousand pounds, or merely a few 
 crowns ; that mattered nothing to Blase. 
 He knew that all the sweet woman had 
 in the world to give him was there — the 
 savings of many years, the tangible repre- 
 sentation of a thousand tender, loving 
 thoughts, of many joyful acts of self- 
 denial, of constant care for him. 
 
 He took it, and thrust it in his bosom, 
 but he could not see the giver for the tears 
 that filled his eyes ; he could speak not 
 even a common word of gratitude for the 
 swelling of his throat. He could only 
 think that never was fabled angel so near 
 divinity as this poor old maid.
 
 232 A PEODIGAL'S PROGKESS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ix which is set forth captain dave- 
 nant's folly. 
 
 Captain Davenant had (as most elderly 
 gentlemen have) a hobby which, from a 
 general point of view, was just as irra- 
 tional as purely selfish, and as ridiculous as 
 other hobbies. His favourite pursuit was 
 the collection of ancient coins, of wliich he 
 had amassed some eight or ten score in a 
 cabinet, made after his own design, and at 
 a cost which he was ashamed to confess to. 
 His collection was of no earthly use to any 
 one at Redwater but himself. Blase in his 
 young days had a hankering for them at 
 those seasons when the game of dumps 
 was in ; but when he found that his grand-
 
 CAPTAIN DAVENANT'S FOLLY. 233 
 
 father was not likely to prostitute his coins 
 to the uses of that game, he ceased to 
 regard them with any interest whatever. 
 Aunt Gertrude, despite her amiability, 
 cordially detested them, and dreaded the 
 production of the cabinet, which meant a 
 tedious exposition upon matters resembling- 
 politics in their complexity, which she 
 could never clearly understand, but felt 
 bound to appreciate highly. A practical 
 numismatist would have laughed at the 
 collection, and would have proved quite 
 half of them to be false and worthless ; for 
 the captain, with his perfect truthfulness, 
 •could believe no one guilty of falsehood 
 who had the commonest ability in dissimu- 
 lation, and so he became the easy dupe of 
 a well-dressed gentleman of Jewish origin, 
 who called upon him at intervals, and 
 always had the good fortune to have found 
 the very coin the captain most needed. 
 Bat the cabinet was a source of great
 
 234 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 amusement and of pride also to the captain. 
 He had been given to miderstand, and he 
 fairly believed, that by the time it was com- 
 pleted his collection would be unique — as 
 indeed, in one respect, it certainly would be 
 — and he had a secret gratification in think- 
 ing that he should leave behind him a not 
 unworthy heirloom. One day in the week 
 he spent in cleaning and arranging his 
 collection ; and at these times the old 
 gentleman was a suitable study for a figure 
 painter as he sat erect in his high-backed 
 chair, looking at the coin in his hand, which 
 he had been gently polishing with a piece 
 of chamois leather, as his mind dwelt on the 
 curious vicissitudes through which it had 
 passed in coming to him. For each coin had 
 its history, and some of them had truly 
 remarkable histories — thanks to the vivid 
 imagination of the gentlemanly Jew. 
 
 It had never occurred to him to inquire 
 how much his hobby cost him until this
 
 CAPTAIN DAYENANT'S FOLLY. 235 
 
 very afternoon, when the question struck 
 him as being of such importance that, in- 
 stead of going to sleep, he brought out the 
 little book in which he kept an account 
 of his expenditure, and made a careful ex- 
 tract of the sums paid to Mr. Jacobs during^ 
 the past ten years for coins, and those 
 scarce, dilapidated, but iuYaluable works 
 on the science which he sought and bought 
 with such indefatigable zeal. The total 
 astonished him ; and for the first time he 
 perceiYcd the selfishness of a pleasure 
 which restricted expenditure in a more 
 beneficial direction. 
 
 It wns some consolation to know that 
 eYery item on this list of payments was 
 considerably less than the actual value of 
 the coin or book for which it was paid — 
 Mr. Jacobs being, as he never failed to 
 explain, not a dealer, but an amateur who 
 was glad to sell his duplicate coins at con- 
 siderablv less than thev cost him ; — there-
 
 536 A PRODIGAL'S niOGKESS. 
 
 fore, if ever he should have need of a hirge 
 sum of money, he could sell his cabinet and 
 realize a profit. Yet the prospect of 
 making a large profit did not impart 
 cheerfulness to the old captain's face. He 
 unlocked the cabinet, carefully took out 
 that beautiful specimen of a Jacobus, whose 
 only fault was an unseen flaw which gave 
 it a peculiar leaden sound when it was 
 struck, and turned it over in his hand, in- 
 spected it closel}^ tlirough his glasses, then 
 held it further away and looked at it under 
 his glasses, and in both positions with 
 evident satisfaction. Then he put it back 
 in its place with a sigh, closed the doors, 
 and turned the key upon his treasures. 
 Looking up, he found Blase in the room. 
 
 '^ I was afraid of waking you, sir," Blase 
 said, in explanation of his noiseless en- 
 trance. " I find you are occupied." 
 
 " Only with my cabinet ; a toy, an old 
 man's toy."
 
 CAPTAIN DAVENANT'S FOLLY. 237 
 
 " Ah, I recollect. You had a collection 
 of coins when I was a boy." 
 
 " I have enlarged it considerably of late 
 years. There are some quite remarkable 
 specimens, which I will show you one day 
 when we have nothing better to do, 
 though it is a study which can have but 
 little charm for a young man. As I say, 'tis 
 a toy, and a toy which necessitates, perhaps, 
 a waste of time and money. 'Tis not 
 inilikely that I shall give it up one of these 
 days and — and turn my mind to something 
 of more serious importance. However, that 
 is immaterial. Sit down, my dear boy. I 
 want to say something to you concerning 
 your affairs if you will allow me to do so." 
 
 " I am your grandson, and your servant, 
 sir," Blase said, seating himself. 
 
 " I am reluctant lo refer to an unplea- 
 sant subject ; but it was suggested to my 
 mind by an observation that fell from you 
 at the dinner table, that possibly the breach
 
 238 A riiODIGAL'S PPtOGrtESS. 
 
 with your father, widened by what took 
 place this morning, will stop the supplies 
 of money that you liave hitherto received 
 from him. I do not wish to talk of that. 
 I hope never again to hear your father's 
 name until his title falls to you." With 
 these bitter w^ords the captain paused. 
 After a moment or two he continued in his 
 habitual soft tone : '' What I wish to say, 
 my dear Blase, is, that whatever happened 
 this morning to alter your pecuniary pros- 
 pects, you must continue to support with 
 befitting dignity your position as a gentle- 
 man. If it is customary for young men of 
 your quality to have servants, you must 
 not be without them ; and if the expenses 
 of maintaining a becoming equipage are 
 beyond your means, you may be sure that 
 any bills you may find it convenient to 
 draw in my name will be duly honoured." 
 
 '^ Thank yon, sir. I thank you with all 
 my heart," Blase said, drawing nearer and
 
 CAPTATX DAYEN ANT'S FOLLY. 239 
 
 taking his grandfather's hand. " I hope, 
 however, before my present resources are 
 exhausted, to have hit upon some career 
 which shall secure my independence." 
 
 " Well said. Blase ! " said the old gentle- 
 man warmly ; then, with anxiety only half 
 €oncealed : " You have not yet fixed your 
 mind upon any vocation, any profession ? " 
 
 " Not yet, sir. 'Tis a subject I have 
 never looked at from my present point of 
 view." 
 
 " Ah, well ; all in good time," the old 
 gentleman said, with a sigh. " There is no 
 hurry. Sooner or later every man finds to 
 what use he should apply his endowments ; 
 and 'tis better for him to wait until he sees 
 clearly what it is his dut}/- to do than 
 rashly to accept at haphazard the first 
 suggested course, and to follow it in a des- 
 pondent or half-hearted fashion. Let this 
 house be your home while you will, and 
 when you weary of our rustic simplicity.
 
 240 A PRODIGAL'S TROGrvESS. 
 
 leave us for awhile ; and remember what T 
 said touching money, my hoy." 
 
 " I am not likely to forget it, sir." 
 
 " A little notice of a couple of weeks 
 is all I ask, that I may have the money 
 ready at my agent's to meet your hill. 
 And now to something else. There are 
 your favourite authors not yet looked 
 into." 
 
 '' One's tastes alter with age. I should 
 like better to look into yoar cabinet, if you 
 have a mind to explain its contents." 
 
 " With all my heart ; though let me tell 
 you, Blase, the study of weapons and war 
 is more suitable to a young man." 
 
 The old captain spoke with significance , 
 but the hint was lost upon Blase, who was 
 just then speculating on the means by 
 which his grandfather intended to raise 
 money if necessary. 
 
 " He would not wear a threadbare coat 
 if he had money by him," thought Blase.
 
 CAPTAIN DAVEXANT'S FOLLY. 241 
 
 "He is not a man to invest in speculations. 
 If he had funded property, he would not 
 require two weeks to transfer it to his 
 agent. He could not make this offer so 
 cheerfully if it involved a mortgage upon 
 his estate. What other resources can he 
 have ? " 
 
 The cabinet was opened, and Captain 
 Davenant at the very sight of the neatly 
 ordered shelves became excited. His enthu- 
 siasm increased as he went from one medal 
 to another, explaining the rare merits 
 of each to his appreciative companion. 
 
 Natural good nature made Blase sym- 
 pathetic at all times, but, warmed with 
 love and gratitude, he found actual pleasure 
 in the baubles which gave his grandfather 
 so much delight. It struck him, as he 
 listened to the histories of the coins, that 
 Mr. Jacobs' name came in with suspicious 
 frequency, and that the prices paid were 
 excessively high ; but he said not a word 
 
 VOL. I. 16
 
 2-12 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 to destroy the old gentleman's happy 
 illusion that Mr. Jacobs was an honest 
 gentleman, and his transactions of a most 
 straightforward and generous description. 
 
 " You see, my dear boy," said Captain 
 Davenant, when the last piece was examined 
 and replaced, " 'tis not alone the actual 
 value of each separate coin, but their con- 
 nection which makes tliem valuable. For 
 here " — he spread out his hands towards his 
 treasure, leaning back in his chair, and 
 looking at it with a simple pride — " here 
 is an almost unbroken cliain of the coins 
 found in these realms, from the denarius 
 of the Romans to the new seven-shilling 
 piece." 
 
 " 'Tis a valuable collection, sir, I doubt 
 not." 
 
 " My good friend, Mr. Jacobs, assures me 
 that I may sell the collection at any time 
 for twice the sum I have paid for the 
 coins — twice the sum ! "
 
 CAPTAIN DAYENANT'S FOLLY. 243 
 
 "Surely you do not contemplate selling?" 
 
 " I am not sure but that I shall, Blase," 
 replied the old gentleman gravely, as he 
 closed the doors of his cabinet with tender 
 care. " It takes me a whole day once a 
 week to polish them, and I might spend 
 the time more profitably in reading Milton ; 
 besides, as I have been told, 'tis so much 
 capital lying idle, and — and I do not 
 approve of idleness." 
 
 " Egad, sir, your lawn lies idle ; three- 
 fourths of your rooms lie idle. I would 
 as soon see beasts grazing on the one, and 
 t'other let off in lodgings, as have you 
 dispose of your cabinet. 'Tis a worthy 
 appendage to your estate, sir." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say so," cried 
 the captain warmly, " for so I have 
 thought. Yet," said he, checking himself, 
 " I warrant I shall get rid of it, for all 
 that ; for 'tis astonishing how reckless I 
 am when a caprice takes hold of me."
 
 244 A PKODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 If there was one man less capricious 
 than another, it was Captain Davenant, and 
 Blase knew this. He sat in silent per- 
 plexity as his grandfather, humming a 
 tune, turned away to restore his cabinet 
 to its place. Suddenly the truth dawned 
 upon him : it was to supply his necessities 
 that the brave old gentleman would sacrifice 
 his own pleasure. Then Blase vowed in his 
 heart that no privation should make him 
 reveal his poverty to Captain Davenant. 
 
 The opportune return of Mr. Tickel and 
 eTohn Hutchins put an end to the interview, 
 which at that moment was embarrassing 
 both to Blase and his grandfather.
 
 ( 245 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 HOW BLASE WAS TEMPTED BY THE PARSOX. 
 
 In the course of the afternoon Blase found 
 an opportunity of speaking in private with 
 John Hutchins, when he told him briefly 
 that he had failed to move his father from 
 his obstinate faith in Father Dominick, 
 and bade him, for the present at least, to 
 lay aside all thoughts of vengeance, since 
 it was but too clear that he was powerless 
 against the priest, and that any punish- 
 ment he, Hutchins, might attempt to inflict 
 on him would only recoil upon himself, 
 and increase his misfortunes. 
 
 " Sir," said John Hutchins, " I am con- 
 vinced that you are in the right. I thank 
 you very sincerely for your advice, which
 
 246 A PEODlGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 is a further proof of your kindness to me, 
 and I assure you that I shall at all times 
 abide by your counsel." He then begged 
 to know if he was to enter Mr. Godwin's 
 service, as Mr. Tickel had led him to hope ; 
 to which Blase replied in the affirmative, 
 and then hastily escaped from the effusive 
 thanks which the grateful fellow poured 
 out. 
 
 Shortly after supper Mr. Tickel went 
 to bed, excusing himself on account of a 
 severe headache brought on by the excite- 
 ment of examining the ruins of Tilton 
 Abbey, and taking with him the cup of 
 cordial which Aunt Gertrude desired him 
 to drink. When a couple of hours later 
 Blase was entering his chamber, he heard 
 a slight cough, and, looking across the 
 corridor, perceived Mr. Tickel standing 
 at his bedroom door with a beckoning 
 finger extended. 
 
 *' Come in, my young friend, come in,"
 
 BLASE IS TEMPTED BY THE PAKSON. 247 
 
 said the parson, drawing Blase into Lis 
 room and softly closing the door. " There's 
 a world of things to talk about. Lord ! I 
 thought you were never coming." 
 
 " I thought you were abed of a head- 
 ache ? " 
 
 " Not I, Blase. I have been sitting in 
 the chimney with a paper of tobacco, and 
 there's still a morsel if you're for a pipe. 
 As for my headache, I've a cordial here 
 that cured me at once of all that ever was 
 the matter with me. Put your lips to it, 
 my boy. Nay, don't be afraid of the cup ; 
 I washed it out well, be sure ; and this is 
 none of your pinching herbal waters, but 
 as fine a sample of red rum as ever came 
 from the Indies." 
 
 He led Blase to the capacious chimney, 
 where he had set chairs, and on one of 
 them a paper of tobacco, a couple of long- 
 pipes, a jug, a bottle, and a small parcel 
 of sugar.
 
 248 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 "Eelics from Tilton Abbey," Blase 
 observed. 
 
 "The best I could find. Where they 
 came from you shall hear presently. But, 
 pry thee, sit down and be comfortable. 
 There's a clean pipe. God bless the archi- 
 tect who built this chimney, say I. Old 
 Tickel don't forget his young friend." 
 
 " Nor himself." 
 
 " Why, Blase, are we not one, and is it 
 not by thinking of my own comfort that 
 1 know what is necessary to yours ? Will 
 you mix your spirit with hot water ? " 
 
 " How did you get that ? " 
 
 '' Hutchins brought it five minutes ago ; 
 he saw the light in my room, and thought 
 I might like to shave. There's a delicacy 
 about that man which is admirable, and 
 an excellent servant you'll find him." 
 
 " If you don't spoil him. Be careful, 
 parson; these old habits don't suit my 
 new temper."
 
 BLASE IS TEMPTED BY THE PARSON. 249 
 
 "I do not fear your displeasure while 
 I serve you faithfully with heart and brain, 
 lad ; and as for your new temper, 'tis but 
 the natural eifect of spare diet, and you'll 
 be yourself, I wager, when you get back 
 to London and a more generous table. A. 
 man's character does not alter in a day, 
 and 'tis something more serious than a 
 dull fancy which can change your pleasant 
 disposition. Lord, how I do love ye, Blase ! 
 One would think I was your brother, if all 
 were known that I have been at for your 
 sake to-day. However, that in good time. 
 Empty this, my young friend, and let me 
 hear what has befallen you since we parted 
 in the morning. What has the baronet, 
 your father, given you ? " 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 "Nothing, Blase! Humph. This comes, 
 I expect, of your new temper. I warrant 
 }'0u weren't over pleasant with the old 
 knight."
 
 250 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 "I did not feel pleasantly disposed/' 
 
 " I knew how it would be if you went 
 alone, Blase. You wanted me behind you 
 to jog your elbow when you were going 
 wrong, and put a pleasant interpretation 
 upon your words when they irritated your 
 father. A man like that wants managing 
 like a restive nag. You must wheedle 
 him along the road you want him to go, 
 and only lay on the whip when you know 
 you have the master-hand of him. But 
 you are so headstrong. Blase. You've no 
 more tact than a bull in a china shop." 
 
 " Well, that's all over." 
 
 " What a chance you've lost ! — the best 
 that ever a son had, I do think. You had 
 your father in a corner, and let him go. 
 Oh, if I had been there ! Begad, he 
 would have given me something before 
 I left him. Did he offer you nothing ? " 
 
 " Yes — board and lodging." 
 
 " And you refused ? "
 
 BLASE IS TEMPTED BY THE PARSON. 251 
 
 " I promised to accept on condition that 
 he would remove Father Dominick and his 
 family. These terms my father refused, 
 and there was an end of it." 
 
 " And there was an end of it," echoed 
 Mr. Tickel, in a tone of mournful reproach. 
 " And what an end ! You couldn't expect 
 any man to accept such terms." 
 
 " Do you think a man could have 
 accepted his ? " 
 
 " Why not ? 'Twas your duty to save 
 your father ; but because you couldn't do 
 it your own way, you give him over to 
 the Philistines. Well, dear, dear ! there 
 are some men who are for ever trying 
 to beat 'in the wedge by the thick end. 
 Look, you — what chance would he have 
 had if you had once installed yourself there, 
 with me and Hutchins to support you ? 
 You could have tackled your father. I 
 would have got his wife into trouble ; and, 
 as for the priest, I wish him no more harm
 
 252 A PRODIGAL'S PKOGRESS. 
 
 than to be left alone for half an hour with 
 John Hutcliins. We couldn't have done 
 everything in the first week, but in six 
 we would have been masters of the field. 
 Little by little, great things are done. If 
 ever you're in a crowd, my young friend, 
 you will do well to study it, and take the 
 moral to heart. 'Tis not your strong, 
 l)lustering man that gets to the front, with 
 all his force and froth : all know he is 
 there, and combine to resist him. 'Tis 
 your little, oily man that silently worms 
 his way from shoulder to chest, and chest 
 to shoulder, by imperceptible degrees." 
 
 " Thank Heaven, I am not a little, oily 
 man ! 
 
 " Thank Heaven, your prosperity does 
 not depend entirely upon your efforts ; and 
 thank Heaven that sent old Tickel to be 
 your guardian angel " 
 
 " Show me what I have to be grateful 
 for."
 
 BLASE IS TEMPTED BY THE PAESON. 253 
 
 " I will. As you may suppose, Blase, 
 my object in going out this morning was 
 less to study antiquities than to get some- 
 thing to eat. My first inquiry on the 
 road was where I could find a good inn, 
 and my driver, nothing loath, carried me 
 to the ' George,' a most excellent house, 
 about three miles this side of Tilton Abbey ; 
 and, truth to tell, that was as near the 
 abbey as we got." 
 
 " Why, you astounding old humbug ! 
 You discoursed for a good hour on the 
 abbey — its crypts and its cloisters, its style 
 and its origin, with all the long-winded 
 wordiness of a pedant." 
 
 " As luck would have it, I found a tract 
 on the subject at the ' George,' from which 
 I learnt in half an hour more than I could 
 have discovered for myself in a month ; 
 and as I only read half of it, there's matter 
 for another excursion to the same fountain 
 of knowledge. This, by the way, and in
 
 254 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 confidence. I arrived there about one, and 
 my host, at my request, clapped a piece of 
 smoked bacon with some young greens 
 into a pot, and prepared a couple of fat 
 fowls for the spit at once. I was seated 
 in a good roomy Windsor chair before the 
 fire in the coffee-room, waiting for dinner 
 to be served and studying Tilton Abbey, 
 when mine host bustles in, and says he, 
 ' Sir, your dinner is dressed, but I have 
 to ask a favour of you, which is that you 
 content yourself with a single fowl, for 
 two ladies have just arrived in their 
 chariot, and desire to be served with some 
 victuals forthwith, as they have to push 
 on as far as Maybridge before sundown.' 
 You know my disposition. Blase, and how 
 I detest eating a good dinner alone ; so I 
 bade the good man carry my compliments 
 to the ladies, and say that if they found 
 it agreeable to dine with me I should con- 
 sider myself very highly honoured by their
 
 BLASE IS TEMPTED BY THE PARSON. 255 
 
 company. He returned, saying that the 
 elder lady of the two thanked me for my 
 civility, and would gladly accept my in- 
 vitation ; hut that the younger preferred 
 to lie down on a bed, as she was suffering 
 from a megrim brought on by the jolting 
 of the carriage. Without more ado I 
 walked into the sitting-room where dinner 
 was laid, and in a couple of minutes the 
 lady descended. ' Madam,' says I, ' tra- 
 vellers must dispense with ceremony, and, 
 for fault of a better means, I must intro- 
 duce myself. My name is Joseph Tickel, 
 and I am a minister of the Protestant 
 religion.' ' Sir,' says she with a courtesy, 
 ' you oblige me to be equally frank. My 
 name is Romsey, and I am a widow.' " 
 
 " Yery pretty," said Blase ; ''' but as we 
 are not dining now, you can be a little less 
 tedious. What was the upshot of all this 
 civility ? " 
 
 *' This impatience does you no credit,
 
 256 A PKODIGAUS PKOGRESS. 
 
 Blase. You are like one of those critics 
 who would sit down to a play as the fifth 
 act is a-finishing." 
 
 " Time enough too, parson, when you 
 are author." 
 
 " You shall take it as it comes from me — 
 prologue, dramatis personse, and so on to the 
 epilogue. Being sat down to dinner, I found 
 Mrs. E-omsey a marvellous chatty woman, 
 although of a cautious, not to say sus- 
 picious, nature, and somewhat reticent at 
 first with regard to her own affairs ; but 
 after putting a few searching questions, 
 this hesitation disappeared. I know not 
 how it is. Blase, but something in my face 
 or my manner inspires confidence. I make 
 no merit of it. There are some whom 
 nature stamps with a certificate of worth. 
 It may have been that my candid and 
 straightforward answers to the good 
 woman's questions dissipated all doubts ; 
 suffice it to say that, before we came to
 
 BLASE IS TEMPTED BY THE PARSOX. 257 
 
 the end of the first bottle, she had given 
 me the history of her family in all its 
 ramifications." 
 
 "Is it necessary to repeat the details ? ' 
 Blase asked, with a movement as if he 
 were about to go. 
 
 " No. Sit down, boy. It is only neces- 
 sary for you to know that the family is 
 as good and honourable as any in the 
 county of Monmouth, that Mrs. Romsey 
 has a jointure of eight hundred a year 
 unencumbered, and that her niece was left 
 an orphan, with an independent fortune 
 of eighteen thousand pounds, by the death 
 of her father, Admiral Liston, in Howes' 
 victory of '94." 
 
 " And up to this point what had you 
 told her?" 
 
 '' Having assured myself that she knew 
 nothing of the parish of St. Bidulph's or 
 of this county, I told her frankly that I had 
 given up my living to accompany a young 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 258 A PKODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 gentleman of fortune, heir to a baronetcy 
 and the finest estate in Dorsetshire. If 
 I told you what else I said to our mutual 
 credit you might accuse me of prolixity 
 or boastfulness." 
 
 " Or falsehood. Come, finish." 
 " A bottle of the champagne wine which 
 I opened on the landlord's recommendation, 
 still further increased Mrs. Romsey's trust 
 in me ; and she told me that Miss Liston, 
 being fourteen years of age at her father's 
 death, chose her for her guardian, and 
 that their position was still the same, 
 although the young lady is now actually 
 entitled to be her own mistress. ' But,' 
 says Mrs. Romsey, with a modest blush, 
 ' as one knows not what may happen to 
 make our separation necessary, I am 
 anxious to see my charming Lydia married 
 to a deserving gentleman without delay.' 
 ' You meditate taking a second husband 
 for yourself ? ' T suggested. With a pretty
 
 BLASE IS TEMPTED BY THE PAESON. 259 
 
 confusion she professed that at present she 
 had seen no one worthy to replace the late 
 partner of her joys. ' But there is no 
 knowing what may happen,' she added, 
 ' and therefore I am taking my niece to 
 London, where my agent has furnished 
 us a genteel house in Piccadilly with a 
 view to providing happily for her future.' " 
 
 " And for her own future as well," said 
 Blase, laughing. 
 
 " And for her own future as well," 
 replied Mr. Tickel slowly, and fixing his 
 eyes expressively upon Blase. 
 
 " Well, parson, what of all this ? Why 
 are you staring at me ? " 
 
 " A widow with eight hundred a year 
 and a maid with a plum of eighteen 
 thousand ! " said the parson impressively 
 and slowly, and without moving his eyes, 
 which regarded Blase from an angle. 
 
 " You can't run away with them both." 
 
 "My boy, I love you too well to run
 
 260 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 away with either till you've made your 
 choice." 
 
 " Oh, I'm to marry one ! " 
 
 "You are. I as good as promised the 
 old woman I would take you to her house 
 in Piccadilly." 
 
 " Supposing I have no inclination for 
 marriage ? " 
 
 " There are many things we have to do 
 without inclination, my young friend. We 
 sometimes have to eat dry hread because 
 we cannot afford butter, for instance." 
 
 Blase sat in silent contemplation for a 
 moment, then : 
 
 " Which am I to marry — the aunt or the 
 niece ? " said he. 
 
 " Which you will, my boy. The^-e they 
 are to your hand, fresh and innocent from 
 the country, aud knowing no one in 
 London. I haven't seen the niece, but 
 I suppose she is none too healthy by her 
 choosing to lay a bed after a ride instead
 
 BLASE IS TEMPTED BY THE PAESON. 261 
 
 of sitting down to a good dinner ; but the 
 aunt pleases me. She's a fat, comfortable 
 soul, with a wondrous fund of conversa- 
 tion, for she'll say the same thing over 
 half a dozen times rather than be silent, 
 and an apoplectic expression^the kind 
 of woman who might go off at any 
 moment." 
 
 " Begad, you offer me the choice of two 
 invalids for a wife ! " 
 
 ^' I do ; and if you take my advice, you 
 will begin on the aunt with a view of 
 finishiug off with the niece." 
 
 '' I don't care for that joke, parson." 
 
 " Joke. Do you call my advice a 
 joke ? " 
 
 " No, I don't call it a joke ; and if you 
 intend it for one, you have a deplorable 
 sense of humour." 
 
 " I was never more serious in my life. 
 Blase ; and with good reason, for I must 
 tell you the note you gave me t'other day
 
 262 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 is spent, and there are precious few to 
 follow." 
 
 "And seriously, you advise me to marry 
 for money ? " 
 
 " Well, as you can't have much tender 
 feeling for women you've never seen, what 
 else should you marry for ? " 
 
 " You told this woman I was a man of 
 fortune." 
 
 " I told her I gave up my living to 
 travel with a young gentleman of fortune ; 
 that was near enough to the truth, I hope. 
 And if she jumps to the conclusion that 
 you have the wealth of Golconda, 'tis not 
 for us to undeceive her. Your estimable 
 grandfather teaches you a better lesson 
 than that." 
 
 "And you propose that I shall take 
 advantage of this foolish woman's mistake, 
 to marry her, or her sickly niece, to secure 
 myself from want." 
 
 " That's it, Blase. There you have it.
 
 BLASE IS TEMPTED BY THE PAESON. 263 
 
 plan and elevation, and all you have to do 
 is to work out the design. I demand no 
 thanks ; I ask no recompense save this, 
 that when you stand on the summit of 
 your good fortune, you will remember that 
 the foundation was laid by your good old 
 parson." 
 
 Mr. Tickel's voice was husky as he 
 spoke, and his little eyes were filled with 
 tears. It may have been that he actually 
 felt emotion in thinking of the future he 
 had provided for the young man whom 
 he loved better than anyone else in the 
 world — himself excepted. On the other 
 hand, a little of the fiery spirit might have 
 caught his throat, and been turned to 
 sentimental advantage. 
 
 Blase knew the parson too well to be 
 moved by his false sentiment to compassion, 
 or by his unprincipled suggestion to anger. 
 
 " Do you think T am a gentleman ? " he 
 asked coollv.
 
 264 A PRODIGAL'S PROaRESS. 
 
 ''To be sure, I do ; but a cursed poor 
 one, let me tell you. But what of that ? " 
 cried the parson hopefully. " You have 
 the marks of birth and breeding, together 
 with a face and person which no woman 
 can look upon without losing her heart. 
 You must win." 
 
 Blase rose with a short laugh. 
 
 " Get thee behind me," he said, and turn- 
 ing his back upon the parson, he took up 
 his chamber candle and left the room. 
 
 The audacity of Mr. Tickel's proposal 
 was to Blase a striking demonstration of 
 the desperate position in which he stood. 
 He reckoned that the expenses of return- 
 ing to London would leave him with half a 
 dozen guineas ; and when these were spent, 
 what was to be done? That was a question 
 that Blase sat down, resolved to answer ; 
 but an hour's earnest thinking only proved 
 to him the impossibility of finding any 
 satisfactory means of escape from penury.
 
 BLASE IS TEMPTED BY THE PARSOX. 265 
 
 The flickering of the candle by his side, 
 warned him that he wonld soon be left in 
 the dark. Then he took from his bosom 
 the little silk covered pocket-book Aunt 
 Gertrude had put into his hand, and un- 
 tying the ribbon, opened it. It astonished 
 him to find how much it contained ; there 
 were notes for four hundred and fifty 
 pounds. She could not have saved so 
 much from economy in household matters ; 
 for her father's sake, she would not have 
 subtracted so much from his small income. 
 Suddenly the true solution of the mystery 
 revealed itself to Blase. 
 
 " 'Tis the poor soul's dowry," he said to 
 himself, ^' the slender portion she was to 
 have taken to her husband. She has 
 renounced all hope of marriage in giving 
 this to me." He sat with the little book 
 in his hands for some minutes, his heart 
 melting in love and pity, as he thought 
 of that gentle woman cheerfully sacrificing
 
 266 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 the great hope of womanhood for his sake ; 
 then he said, half aloud, '* dear soul if I 
 abuse thy gift, may I lose even thy love." 
 
 This discovery dwelt in his mind, and 
 soothed his spirit ; he recalled her words, 
 and they did more than all his previous 
 speculation to make the future hopeful. 
 He felt that good must ultimately come 
 by doing right, and he fell asleep with the 
 agreeable conviction, that by keeping the 
 pure idea of Aunt Gertrude before liim he 
 could do no wrong. He was too drowsy, 
 perhaps, to reflect that there are certain 
 conditions under which the best of aunts 
 must be lost sight of. That conviction 
 was for the morrow.
 
 ( 267 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 HOW BLASE AVAS TEMPTED BY A PRETTY MAID. 
 
 In the morning John Hutchins, having 
 shaved his new master and tied his hair, 
 left the room, walked briskly down the 
 corridor, and descended the great stairs at 
 the end. As his head disappeared from 
 view, his daughter Peggy stepped from 
 behind a door at the other end of the 
 corridor, where, through the chink, she had 
 watched his movements. In a smart cap 
 and bib which she had sat up half the night 
 to make out of material given her by Miss 
 Davenant, in a calico skirt looped up over 
 a short petticoat, dark worsted stockings, 
 and well polished ankle shoes, Peggy
 
 268 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 looked as pretty and neat a little chamber- 
 maid as was ever seen off the stage or on 
 it. She carried a feather brush in her 
 hand, and with this she busied herself 
 upon the wainscot, which, truth to tell, 
 she had thoroughly dusted half an hour 
 before when her father passed on his way 
 to Mr. Godwin's room, working from 
 panel to panel towards the staircase, and 
 humming a pretty little tune in a very 
 soft voice as she went. 
 
 There were only two panels between her 
 and Mr. Godwin when he came from his 
 room ; but he turned towards the staircase 
 without seeing her. Perhaps at that mo- 
 ment Aunt Gertrude was still before his 
 eyes. 
 
 Brushing more vigorously than ever, 
 Peggy sang a little louder; then suddenly 
 stopped, with a slight exclamation of fright 
 and surprise, and made a becoming courtesy 
 as Blase turned to see who it was that sang.
 
 BLASE IS TEMPTED BY A PRETTY MAID. 269 
 
 For a moment Blase was in doubt. The 
 girl had been out of his mind altogether. 
 The corridor was dark, and at first he saw 
 only a pretty girlish figure, standing in 
 bold relief against the strong light from the 
 great window at the end of the gallery, 
 then he recognized the face he had seen for 
 the first time peeping through the curtains 
 at the inn. He nodded to her, and went on 
 his way, feeling a thrill of pleasure as he 
 recalled the coquettish impudence with 
 which her eyes had followed him from the 
 inn window. 
 
 He descended the stairs slowly ; at the 
 angle some bewitchment caused him to 
 look up, Peggy with her hands resting 
 on the balusters was looking down. She 
 just smiled and blushed when their eyes 
 met, but she made no attempt to move 
 until Blase, with a glance below, turned to 
 reascend, then she fled. He did not pur- 
 sue her, but from that moment her pretty
 
 270 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS.' 
 
 face and long dark eyes took possession 
 of his thoughts to the exclusion of Aunt 
 Gertrude. 
 
 He caught glimpses of her several times 
 during the day, for he found frequent oc- 
 casions to go from one part of the house to 
 another, but it happened always that her 
 father was somewhere within sight. He 
 hoped to find her dusting the wainscot the 
 next morning, and for that reason, dismissed 
 John Hutchins some five or ten minutes 
 before leaving his room ; but he found no 
 one in the corridor, except John Hutchins, 
 who himself was busy with the feather- 
 brush. To a man of gallantry obstructions 
 only serve to give piquancy to the pursuit, 
 and Blase thought considerably more of 
 Peggy, by reason of not seeing her, than 
 if the freest scope had been given to their 
 meeting. 
 
 The experience was not new to him. 
 He never had refused the invitation of
 
 BLASE IS TEMPTED BY A PKETTY MAID. 271 
 
 bright eyes to engage in an amour ; and it 
 made no difference to him, whether the 
 petticoat was of silk or of homespun, so that 
 the wearer was tolerably young and pretty. 
 To do as he did, was merely to obey an 
 article in the peculiar code of honour by 
 which the polite world was governed. To 
 want gallantry was to want manliness. 
 And so doctrine, and habitude, and a still 
 vagrant inclination, drew Blase back into 
 the past he wished to abandon. His hot 
 blood was incompatible with a cool reason. 
 Once it occurred to him that he was 
 neglecting duty for Peggy, and that his 
 whole attention should be devoted to the 
 discovery of a suitable career ; but he dis- 
 missed the thought impatiently, saying 
 to himself, that a few days or weeks could 
 make no difference, that it was useless to 
 make himself and everybody else wretched, 
 and that the wisest course was to wait 
 patiently till something presented itself.
 
 272 A PEODIG-AL'S PROGKESS. 
 
 It seemed, however, that the amour was 
 to die out from Peggy's disinclination to 
 sustain her part in it. That day and the 
 following morning passed, and he saw 
 nothing of her. This indifference irri- 
 tated Blase, as indifference irritates most 
 of the stronger sex when they are gracious 
 enough to throw the handkerchief, and he 
 resolved that when he saw Miss Hutchins 
 again, he would have his revenge, either 
 by taking no notice of her at all, or treat- 
 ing her as if she were merely a pretty 
 child. An opportunity came when he was 
 descending from his room, after dressing 
 for dinner. Aunt Gertrude was coming 
 up stairs, and behind her was Peggy 
 carrying a work-basket. The girl's eyes 
 were quicker than her mistress's, she saw 
 Blase the moment the angle of the stairs 
 was turned, and her eyes beamed upon him 
 with all their full warmth. Blase met the 
 melting gaze with stony indifference, and
 
 BLASE IS TEMPTED BY A PRETTY MAID. 273 
 
 then "hailed his aunt in the most tender 
 tones of affection. 
 
 Aunt Gertrude stopped to speak to her 
 dear boy. Peggy placed herself so that 
 she could be seen by Blase only. The 
 blush had faded away and left her cheek 
 pale ; her pretty white teeth clasped her 
 nether lip ; there was a look of apprehen- 
 sion in her face which Blase either did not 
 or would not see. 
 
 " Why, my dear Blase, where did you 
 get that rose from ? " asked Aunt Ger- 
 trude ; "I thought there was not one 
 left." 
 
 " One, and one only," Blase said, in 
 some confusion. " I found it — dear me, 
 where did I find it?" 
 
 It seemed to be very difficult for him to 
 remember where he had found it ; he stam- 
 mered and hesitated, and grew as pink as 
 the bud itself, which, as a matter of fact, 
 he had found lying on his dressing table, 
 
 VOL. I. 18
 
 274 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 and had stuck it in his coat, fancying 
 that it was laid there by Aunt Gertrude. 
 
 " Why, you surely did not find it on the 
 bush by the gate?" said she, coming to his 
 assistance. 
 
 " That is exactly where I did find it, 
 though," said Blase. 
 
 "Well, do you know, I thought I saw a 
 bud there the other day, but this morning 
 when I looked, I could not find it." 
 
 " Which is not to be wondered at, as I 
 had been before you, is it?" said Blase, 
 with a very hearty laugh ; and then he 
 took out the rose and put it in Aunt Ger- 
 trude's knot, and kissed her with unfeigned 
 amiability, for there was now no thought 
 of vengeance in his heart. He knew who 
 had laid the bud on his table, and as Aunt 
 Gertrude passed on, he turned his eyes, 
 glowing with passion, upon Peggy's sweet 
 eager face. He snatched up her disengaged 
 hand and pressed it, whilst with his lips
 
 BLASE IS TEMPTED BY A PRETTY MAID. 275 
 
 he formed the words " This evening.'* 
 The girl dared not linger an instant, but 
 as she moved av^ay she shook her head 
 and raised her eyebrows, as if not under- 
 standing the words he had shaped. He 
 repeated them, and she shook her head 
 again, looking back with the most woe- 
 begone expression, as if she had lost the 
 dearest object of her wishes. 
 
 He looked about from side to side when 
 he went upstairs at night-time, half ex- 
 pecting to catch some sign of the girl, 
 albeit Hutchins preceded him with a light. 
 
 " 'Tis better so," he thought, and yet not 
 without a secret feeling of disappointment; 
 ^' if she had caught my meaning she might 
 have contrived to elude observation, and 
 met me, and Heaven only knows what 
 would have followed, for 'tis clear she is 
 more in earnest than I thought." 
 
 Those who deceive are always suspicious, 
 and Blase felt certain that there was more
 
 276 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 than a mere desire to serve him in the 
 assiduity of Hutchins to fulfil the office of 
 a valet ; and he was not slow to resent this 
 kind of surveillance. He refused to have 
 his hair undressed, or his shoes removed, 
 and dismissed the man curtly, saying in 
 a cavalier tone it might not suit him to go 
 to hed for another hour or so. 
 
 Hutchins bowed respectfully and with- 
 drew. Blase threw himself in a chair, and 
 closing his eyes, gave himself up to one of 
 those fascinating reveries — his was sha- 
 dowed by regret — which follow the 
 accidents of an unaccomplished amour. He 
 saw again, in imagination, the dark eyes, 
 round with anxiety lest he should betray 
 where he found the rosebud, and then the 
 quick eager joy that shone upon her face 
 when Aunt Gertrude's back was turned, 
 and he and she were hand in hand, face to 
 
 face, and then the reverie was broken 
 
 abruptly. A low creaking sound from the
 
 BLASE IS TEMPTED BY A PRETTY MAID. 277 
 
 opposite side of the room caused Blase to 
 open his eyes. Facing him was an ancient 
 wardrobe with heavy folding doors. One 
 was partly opened. He thought it moved 
 as he looked. Another creak and all doubt 
 ceased. Someone was concealed there ; he 
 could imagine only that it was a house- 
 breaker. He rose, strode across the room, 
 and flung the door back, and there stood 
 revealed Peggy, looking only less scared 
 than he. She raised her finger to enjoin 
 silence, and stepping lightly out, came close 
 to him and looked up timidly in his face. 
 " You !" was all Blase could say. 
 *' Did not you say 'this evening'?" she 
 asked in a faltering whisper. 
 " But 'tis night, child." 
 " I could not escape before. My father 
 suspects me cruelly. Oh, you can't tell 
 how he watches me. He seems to know 
 my very thoughts. He made me go to my 
 room two hours ago, and since then he has
 
 278 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 been watching the stairs, so that I could 
 not creep up until you called him into the 
 dining-room," 
 
 Blase was grave. He began to be sen- 
 sible of his own fault. 
 
 " Did you expect me before ? Have you 
 been waiting ? Are you angry with me ? " 
 asked the girl, looking up imploringly. 
 She had expected a reception so different. 
 
 " No, I am angry with myself," said 
 Blase ; '' you have only too well responded 
 to a wish that I ought never to have 
 expressed." 
 
 *' But you did wish to see me ?" she 
 asked with eagerness. 
 
 " Yes, I — I wished to — to thank you for 
 the bud," stammered Blase; but she waited 
 to hear only the first half of the sentence, 
 and then said : 
 
 '' Then if you wished to see me you 
 need not be angry with yourself or me, 
 for I am here."
 
 BLASE IS TEMPTED BY A PRETTY MAID. 279 
 
 As she spoke slie raised lier hands invol- 
 untarily, and they fell trembling upon his 
 shoulders, her cheeks aflame and her eyes 
 twinkling as though his dazzled them. 
 Blase need have had a temperament of 
 steel to withstand such temptation. He 
 circled her with his arms and drew her to 
 him, while her hands sliding from his 
 shoulders, linked behind his neck. 
 
 " You pretty angel ! " he whispered 
 thickly, bending his lips down to her burn- 
 ing cheeks. She made a little moan of 
 delight. 
 
 He held back his head to look at her 
 face, and she drew hers away to look at 
 his, loosening her hands. Her eyes did not 
 falter now, but looking into his with fear- 
 less fervour, seemed to pierce his very soul. 
 Her parted lips showed the little white 
 teeth set close; then, as she still looked, 
 her eyes lost their wide expansion, her 
 lips curved, the strenuous look upon her
 
 280 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 face melted into a soft delicious smile, her 
 limbs trembled, and she sank as if all 
 strength had gone from her. As Blase 
 took her to his breast again he raised her 
 so that her feet scarcely touched the 
 ground. He felt that the girl was his to 
 do with as he would. Intoxicated with 
 passion, powerless to do either right or 
 wrong, he held her thus raised in his arms 
 for a moment, then, his better nature awak- 
 ing to a sense of shame, his arms relaxed. 
 "Coward!" cried conscience, "would you 
 ill-use the child that lies helpless on your 
 breast ? " There was a chair beside him ; 
 he bent and gently placed the girl in it, 
 and then stood back, breathing heavily and 
 quick like a man who pauses in his struggle 
 to collect his forces. The 2:irl was trembling: 
 violently ; she dared not look him in the 
 face, she covered her eyes with her hands. 
 
 " This must finish. God help me ! " 
 muttered Blase.
 
 BLASE IS TEMPTED BY A PRETTY MAID. 281 
 
 She did not catch his words though she 
 heard him speak. She trembled more 
 violently, and daring to raise her head 
 she looked significantly towards the door. 
 It was unlocked. The conflict between 
 passion and principle still raged in the 
 man's bosom. He went towards the door 
 with the intention of locking it. There he 
 stood irresolute and turned to look at the 
 girl ; she was toying with the kerchief 
 crossed upon her bosom. Abandoning all 
 scruples he sought the key and then — 
 
 " Why must I lock this door ?" he asked 
 himself. " For fear of the servant who 
 ties my shoe ? For dread of the father 
 who has thrown himself upon my protec- 
 tion ? No, by the Lord I am not yet so 
 base ! " 
 
 He left the door, and as he approached 
 the girl pity and compassion came into his 
 heart and sanctified his love. 
 
 " My dear," he said, coming to Peggy's
 
 282 A PRODIGAL'S PROGEESS. 
 
 side, " I have done most ill to lead you to 
 deceive your father, and to bring you here. 
 Grod forgive me for the harm I may have 
 done." 
 
 " You have done me no hurt," she said 
 
 eagerly, " 'twas I who " she stopped 
 
 short and buried her face in her hands. 
 Presently there rose a little sob, and a tear 
 trickled down her cheek. 
 
 Blase was powerless to comfort her. 
 He dared not check her salutary grief. 
 He was too guilty to reprove, too lionest 
 to condone, too wretched in seeing those 
 tears to comfort her. His tenderest feel- 
 ings were aroused ; yet he dared not trust 
 himself to touch even her forehead with his 
 lips. 
 
 Impatient with himself he rose, and, 
 taking the candle, went out into the 
 gallery. " Who knows," thought he, " but 
 that my servant may be waiting to call me 
 to account." The passage was empty and
 
 BLASE IS TEMPTED BY A PRETTY MAID. 283 
 
 silent. He returned. The girl had risen 
 from her seat, and stood white and terrified 
 in the middle of the room. 
 
 " Come," he said. " ^o one is in the 
 corridor. I will take yon downstairs and 
 there you will be safe." 
 
 He held out his hand ; she took it 
 without a word, and he led her towards 
 the door, as though she were a little child. 
 He heard her teeth chattering with the 
 cold of reactionary emotion ; the clinging 
 coldness of her fingers was deathlike. 
 Near the door she stopped, and spoke 
 in a trembling whisper : 
 
 " You intend to part from me, and never 
 to look at me again," she said. 
 
 Blase could not deny it, for the intention 
 was in his mind ; he bowed his head. 
 
 " It is so — it is so," said she ; " you 
 cannot tell a falsehood. Wait. You shall 
 not go down with me. I came in the dark. 
 I can go in the dark. If you tell me to go,
 
 284 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 I will go. I will be quite good — quite 
 obedient." She looked out into the dark 
 passage despairingly as if it were perpetual 
 night she was about to enter, and then the 
 trembling fit seized her again so that she 
 had to cling to the door for support. She 
 looked up into his face with the most 
 piteous yearning in her eyes, and she said : 
 
 " You will say good-bye to me, now." 
 
 Blase hesitated for a moment, and then 
 he took the poor shivering soul into his 
 arms and pressed her to his breast. ^ 
 
 " Oh, if you could love me but a little," 
 she murmured, clinging to him and kissing 
 his coat between her words. 
 
 " Poor child, I love you but too much ! " 
 thought Blase, but he did not speak. 
 
 " Good-bye," she said. 
 
 " Good-bye," he answered. 
 
 He would have kissed her forehead, but 
 she stood on tip-toe and sought his lips 
 with hers.
 
 BLAISE IS TEMPTED BY A PRETTY MAID. 285 
 
 She lay for a moment witli her head 
 upon his breast, then she slowly detached 
 her quivering fingers from his neck, and 
 fell to wailing in a subdued manner as 
 though struggling to overcome her feeling. 
 
 " You cannot go in this condition," said 
 Blase. " You will fall. Poor soul you are 
 ill ! " He still supported her for it was clear 
 she was incapable of standing alone. " Sit 
 here," he said, and placed her in a chair. 
 He fetched a cushion from the sofa ; then 
 he wrapped his riding coat about her 
 shivering little body and limbs. "Rest 
 here until you are composed and strong 
 again," he said. She smiled with ineffable 
 tenderness as he did these kindly offices, and 
 then, worn out with passion and grief, she 
 turned her cheek upon the cushion and closed 
 her eyes. It was happiness to be there. 
 
 Blase, looking down at her pale pretty 
 face, would have given ten years of his life 
 to have knelt by her side and laid his head
 
 286 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 beside hers. It was as sore a temptation 
 as a man with passionate blood and a 
 tender heart could be put to. But he 
 overcame it manfully, only he dared not 
 trust himself to maintain the struggle, and 
 leaving her there half asleep he lit a second 
 taper, passed her noiselessly, and left the 
 room.
 
 ( 287 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IN WHICH BLASE MAKES HIS ESCAPE. 
 
 Blase passed the night in Captain Dave- 
 nant's closet. About midnight he crept 
 softly upstairs to his room ; the girl had 
 fallen asleep, and had not moved. Again 
 about five he went to the room : she was 
 gone. 
 
 " It is all over," sighed Blase ; " the song 
 is sung, and nothing is left but the memory 
 of sweetness and tears." And an aching 
 heart was the only reward he could find 
 then for his virtue. 
 
 He could not stay in the room. Every 
 object that met his eyes made him 
 wretched. He returned to the little room
 
 288 A PEODIGAL'S PROGKESS. 
 
 below, wliere he had lit the reading lamp. 
 A dozen Looks were on the table, all tried 
 and found wanting in sustaining interest ; 
 he got down a dozen more. 
 
 It was a strange sight that met the eyes 
 of Captain Davenant when he opened the 
 door at eight o'clock — the room littered 
 with books, a lamp burning the daylight, 
 and Blase haggard and yellow standing 
 with the sword in his hand, which had 
 so excited his boyish fancy long ago. 
 
 " Good God, Blase, my boy ! what is the 
 matter ? " 
 
 Blase dropped the sword, which he had 
 but the moment before unsheathed, back 
 in its scabbard, laughing. 
 
 " Nothing alarming, sir." He shook his 
 grandfather's hand. " I could not sleep, so 
 I came down and read. And the result of 
 my reading is that the old spirit is revived 
 in me. I — in a word, sir, I would be a 
 soldier."
 
 BLASE MAKES HIS ESCAPE. 289 
 
 His hand was still in his gTandfether's. 
 The old gentleman pressed it warmly. 
 
 " The wish of my heart is fulfilled," he 
 said, and drawing himself up he looked 
 proudly at his grandson and shook his 
 hand again. '' I congratulate you, sir, on 
 your choice. 'Tis a profession which, at 
 this moment when our shores are menaced 
 by the invader, every able man should take 
 up, and I know of none other so suitable to 
 a man of your rank. Again let me tell 
 you, I am glad of this determination. I 
 saw the martial sjiirit in you when you 
 were a little lad, and it gave me pride 
 then and since to think that you would 
 one day wear the sword that was struck 
 from my hand too early. 'Twas my hope 
 when you spoke the other day of choosing 
 a career that you would choose this, and 
 the reason I did not speak the wish in my 
 mind, was that I desired you to have all 
 the glory of making a noble choice, and to 
 
 VOL. I. 19
 
 290 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 make this step from an innate sentiment of 
 duty to yourself, to your king, and to your 
 country. Come, let us sit down and talk 
 upon this matter." 
 
 They seated themselves, the old captain 
 with a look full of admiration for his 
 grandson, Blase with a long face, feeling 
 himself a kind of impostor and undeser- 
 ving of such high approval. Duty to 
 himself might have helped him to his 
 decision, but his king and country had 
 not entered into his consideration. His 
 main object was to cut his way out of the 
 net in which he had got entangled. It is 
 true that, as he said, the old thirst for 
 martial glory had seized him in looking 
 through the books which had stirred his 
 young spirits ; but it was not until he read 
 that a pair of colours could be bought for 
 four hundred pounds, and reflected that 
 Aunt Gertrude's gift might justly be used 
 in such a purchase, that he resolved to 
 become a soldier.
 
 BLASE MAKES HIS ESCAPE. 291 
 
 Captain Davenant entered into the sub- 
 ject with enthusiasm, and to the pile of 
 books already upon the table, added a 
 dozen more volumes to explain the means 
 by which Blase was to obtain an ensigncy. 
 Aunt Gertrude's astonishment was great 
 when, coming to see what detained the 
 gentlemen from their breakfast, she found 
 them side by side, poring over a book, 
 with the lamp still burning. 
 
 " My dear," said the captain, rising, 
 " you will excuse us for forgetting you 
 when you learn the cause of our neglect. 
 Blase has chosen the soldier's path to 
 glory." 
 
 Aunt Gertrude listened and grew deadly 
 pale, yielding to the instincts of her sex ; 
 then mastering her weakness, she walked 
 with a fairly firm step to Blase, and kissing 
 him said : 
 
 " I'm proud to hear this, dear." She 
 couldn't say she was glad. '' When must 
 you leave us ? " she asked.
 
 292 A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. 
 
 '' To-day," 
 
 " So soon ? " 
 
 ^'To-day, dear." 
 
 And in effect, at eleven o'clock that 
 morning Blase left Red water. But of 
 those who watched his departure, only 
 the broken-hearted little maid looking 
 through her tears from an upper window 
 of the old house, knew truly why he had 
 left Red water so hastily. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 'RINTED KY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, 
 
 LONDON AND BECCLES. >S". <5-' //.