maaam
 
 LI E, RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVER.SITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 B2B 
 P^9a
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/underoneroofepis01payn
 
 
 / / <" C ^ 
 
 Undee One Eoof 
 
 FIE ST VOLUME
 
 LOSDOS : PRINTED BY 
 
 SPOTTISWOODE AXD CO., NEW-STEEET SQUARB 
 
 AXD PARLIAilENT STREET
 
 Undee One Eooe 
 
 ^n €pisoi>£ m a <i;amilg ^istorg 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES PAYN 
 
 ArTHOK OF ' BY PROXY ' ' LESS BLACK THAN AVE'RE PAINTEP ' ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES— VOL. I. 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 
 1879 
 
 {The tight of translation « reserwd~^
 
 
 
 TO 
 
 ol 
 
 :my dear children 
 
 
 THIS BOOK 
 
 
 IS 
 
 p 
 
 MOST AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 L 
 
 r 
 
 L
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 ^6 
 
 I. The Two Masters 1 
 
 II. A Tete-a-t£te 15 
 
 III. From the Quay 29 
 
 TV. The Night Watch 47 
 
 Y. A Tiff (31 
 
 VI. Driving Shoreward 79 
 
 YII. On the Reef 94 
 
 VIII. A Recognition 108 
 
 IX. Mr. Walcot ventures a Suggestion . 128 
 
 X. The Young People . . . .149
 
 viii CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 XI. The Old Love and the New . 
 
 XII. The Likeness .... 
 
 XIII. The First Blow . . . . 
 
 XIV. The Bird and the Bird-catcher 
 XV. On One Side of the Double Doors 
 
 XVI. On the Other Side 
 
 XVII. Ferdinand Walcot's First Wooing . 
 
 176 
 
 189 
 204 
 
 222 
 238 
 252 
 
 268
 
 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE TWO M.iSTERS. 
 
 Ix Mother England, teeming ^vith progeny 
 as she is, and knowing, alas ! often times no 
 more what to do with them than the old woman 
 who lived in her shoe, the population is never- 
 theless partial. She has probably more shel- 
 tered nooks, far from the madding crowd, and 
 known only to neighbours, than any other 
 civilised country ; lone spots, visited indeed by 
 man, but occupied only by one or two famihes 
 in half a score of generations ; ' haunts of 
 ancient Peace,' where the eclioes only of wars 
 and tumults have penetrated, and those yielding 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 no obedience to the laws of sound, but reaching 
 the stohd ear — for all recluses are stolid — after 
 a huge interval. Some of these spots are really 
 distant (as we count miles in England) from 
 towns and even villages : others again are not 
 so far removed from human communities by 
 space as by circumstance — they are merely out 
 of the way ; the road to them leads nowhere 
 else, and therefore no one comes by it save 
 those who have business in the place — a quite 
 inconsiderable number. Now and then, in 
 these secluded glens or plateaux (for they are 
 of both kinds) the vagrant or mistaken traveller 
 comes upon some stately dwelling quiet as a 
 star, which seems, like a star, to have fallen 
 there. He asks himself— for there is perhaps no 
 one else to ask — ^How came this noble edifice in 
 so retired a spot? It reminds him of some 
 Charles V., in stone, that has embraced the 
 cloister. 
 
 Such a spot, and containing such an 
 ancestral mansion, is the hamlet of Halcombe in 
 the North of Devon. You may roam over the
 
 THE TWO MASTERS. 3 
 
 purple moors to north and east and south of it 
 for days and never dream of its existence, 
 though it is always, so to speak, at hand ; or 
 you may travel along the high road — and it is 
 very high — on a coach top, seeing, as you fancy, 
 everything upon all sides, both on sea and land, 
 and never catch a glimpse of the tall tower of 
 Halcombe Hall, in so deep a glen are its 
 foimdations set. At one point indeed, where a 
 narrow road branches westward, you might ask, 
 if you are by nature curious, ' Whither does 
 that lead ?' and the coachman would reply, 
 ' Only to Halcombe,' as though Halcombe 
 were the grave, whither no one goes — with a 
 few exceptions, however — unless compelled to 
 do so. 
 
 Even from the west, which is the sea side of 
 it, you can only see the spire of Halcombe 
 Church, which is set on a little hill between 
 the village and the ocean, a landmark to which 
 mariners take care to give a wide berth, for the 
 coast is cruel. True, there is a little harbour, 
 where coal is brought by coasting vessels on
 
 4 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 calm days ; but when the least sea is ' on,' the 
 place is unapproachable ; the little blue bay is 
 lashed by the lightest breeze into frenzied 
 foam, beneath which are jagged rocks and far 
 stretching ridges of granite, on which many a 
 good ship has laid her bones. No passenger 
 ever comes to land alive at Halcombe Point, as 
 the place is fitly termed, for it would be irony 
 indeed to call it Harbour, and there is little 
 salvage for the honest villagers, for what the 
 Atlantic hurls and grinds against that rock- 
 bound coast in clouds of spume it mostly whirls 
 away again ; then, after some three days of fury, 
 it will lap and smile about the rocks and ledges 
 for a treacherous hour hke some marine Mac- 
 beth with its ' Thou canst not say I did it.' 
 
 Kothing, however, but the church on the 
 hill in Halcombe feels the fury of the gale. 
 The village lies deep in a sheltered dell, where 
 lofty elms and oaks grow to their full height, 
 and never lose a limb or die from the buffets 
 of the storm-fiend. In the centre of the hamlet, 
 approached by a loug grassy avenue, sentinelled
 
 THE TWO MASTERS. 5 
 
 by giant trees, stands the Hall, a composite 
 mass of buildings, but so irregular in outline 
 from tlie first that no addition has robbed 
 it of its picturesque appearance. Its main 
 features are Gothic, and doubtless architectural 
 pedants would apply that term, in a depreciatory 
 sense, to the ^vhole mass ; but the Poet and 
 the Painter would admit its claim to beauty 
 of a high order. Every room differs fi^om 
 its fellow not only in magnitude but form ; 
 here juts out an oriel window, and there a 
 bay ; here the long line of building fronts the 
 level lawn without a break, and here again a 
 modern conservatory, wherein the well- warmed 
 air grows faint with alien fragrance, dazzles 
 the eye ^vith its white radiance. 
 
 To one who comes on JHalcombe on a 
 sudden from the lone moorland it seems as 
 though the trees had been driven into it like 
 sheep, from the country round, and all the 
 flowers. It lies an oasis in the desert, fi'esh 
 with foliage, and cool with verdure, and bright 
 with blossom. There is nothing new or staring
 
 6 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 ill the little village ; even tlie billiard-room 
 at the Hall, built out by its preceding tenant, 
 has already put on a decent garb of ivy which 
 hides its modernness ; and for the most part 
 all the houses are very old. There are no new 
 comers, and consequently no accommodation 
 for them is needed. When a family grows too 
 large for its residence its surplus numbers go 
 forth into the world without, and make dwellings 
 for themselves elsewhere. 
 
 A fcAV hundred yards from the mansion 
 is the Manor Farm, almost coeval with it, 
 and besides these two there is no house of any 
 pretensions — the rest are mere cottages, all the 
 property of the tenant of the Hall, Sir Eobert 
 Arden. 
 
 This gentleman has no ancestral connection 
 with the place, having purchased the estate of 
 its late tenant about four years befo]'e our story 
 opens. It was whispered that the purchase 
 money was no less than 90,000/. ; if so, it must 
 have been a fancy price, for the Halcombe land, 
 where it is not absolutely barren, is poor, and
 
 THE TWO MASTERS. 7 
 
 there are no local industries — unless a saw mill 
 near the Point can be so termed, and some 
 occasional wrecking. Sir Eobert, however, is 
 a man who does not count the cost in matters 
 where his sympathies are concerned, and Hal- 
 combe seemed in his eyes, when he became a 
 widower, the very place wherein to bury him- 
 self and his great sorrow. He lost his young- 
 wife, with his only child, in her confinement, 
 and sought this place of retirement as a stricken 
 deer some sohtary spot wherein to sob out its 
 last hours. He did not, however, pass them 
 altogether in this way, for within eighteen 
 months of his bereavement he married again. 
 
 His second choice was a widow with four 
 children, all of whom he took to his generous 
 heart as though they were his own. The ques- 
 tion. Why did he do so? often put by his 
 neighbours, was like all other inquiries of a 
 similar nature, either very easily answered, or 
 quite inexplicable. Mrs. Nicoll, though not of 
 course in her first youth, was still young, and 
 very beautiful after her own fashion — plump of
 
 8 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 figure, gentle of speech, and with a complexion 
 of cream. Perhaps he chose her out of clehcate 
 compliment to his first wife, who was her 
 antipodes in every way. Xo. II. could never 
 remind him of JSTo I., whose pure image re- 
 mained in his heart as uninjured by Comparison 
 as by Time. Such was the opinion of one who 
 knew Sir Eobert at least as well as he knew 
 himself, though I am aware that it is open to 
 ridicule. The second Lady Arden also enter- 
 tained the same view. Before she married Sir 
 Eobert she may have entertained a secret hope 
 that in time she would occupy the first place in 
 his affection, though he had given her fair 
 warning that that could never be ; but she soon 
 came to acknowledge that she had no power to 
 oust from his bosom her dead rival. After all 
 it was not a woman, but only the memory of one, 
 which thus came between her and her husband's 
 love ; and the subordination was not intolerable. 
 Moreover, it must be considered, that thou£[h 
 his dead Madeline thus remained his idol, 
 enshrined in the very temple of his soul, his
 
 THE TWO MASTERS. 9 
 
 living Mary was in no way neglected ; she had 
 all that money could buy, and almost all that 
 heart could wish. She saw her children pos- 
 sessed of a second father, and herself the object 
 of his tender est care and regard. He made her 
 as absolute mistress of Halcombe Hall as though 
 he were dead, and had left it to her for use 
 during her life. Notwithstanding that her 
 four children found a permanent home in it^ 
 she had carte hlanche to invite whom she pleased 
 thither ; she would ask permission just for form's 
 sake, but his answer was invariable : ' Well, my 
 dear, there is surely room enough.' 
 
 Everybody thought Lady Arden 'a very 
 lucky woman,' and in saying so perhaps implied 
 that slie did not quite deserve it. Not that 
 there was anything to find fault with in her 
 ladyship, who, though she had some fashionable 
 tastes, was both dutiful and simple ; nay, though 
 somewhat hypochondriacal, she was really 
 genuine, so far as she went — but then she went 
 but a very little way. What her neighbours 
 meant to imply was, that, though a deserving
 
 lo UNDER ONE RGOF. 
 
 woman as women go, the widow herself had in 
 her second marriage been rewarded above her 
 deserts. 
 
 At the same time, even in her sunny lot 
 there was a crumpled roseleaf. Being by nature 
 more than tolerably just, it Avas only to be 
 looked for that all friends of her husband would 
 have been welcome under that roof. His 
 nephew, and only blood relation, was, for 
 example, as dear to her as one of her own 
 family ; indeed he was one day to become such, 
 for his uncle had set his heart upon his marriage 
 with Evelyn Mcoll, Lady Arden's eldest 
 daughter, into which arrangement the young 
 people had fallen without the least remonstrance ; 
 he had been prosecuting his studies on the 
 Continent, after he took his degree at Cam- 
 bridge, and was now expected home. But 
 there was another person ' on Sir Eobert's side 
 of the house,' as the simple Halcombe folks 
 termed it, who was not so agreeable to Lady 
 Arden — notwithstanding that he did his best to 
 make himself so. This was Ferdinand Walcot,
 
 THE TWO MASTERS. ii 
 
 the brother of Sir Eobert's first Avife, and who 
 exercised a great and somewhat inexphcable 
 influence over him. Perhaps, to begin with, 
 Lady Arden resented the fact that this person, 
 who was ' neither kith nor kin ' to Sir Eobert, 
 should in these latter days have been admitted 
 to his confidence solely on the ground of the 
 relationship to his dead wife. This intimacy of 
 the two men dated, indeed, from after Sir 
 Eobert's second marriage, and perhaps her 
 ladyship had a shrewd suspicion that had they 
 come together earher she Avould never have 
 been Lady Arden at all. 
 
 There was nothing, however, in ]\Ir. Walcot's 
 conduct to suggest this ; on the contrary, he 
 was polite and deferential to her in a high 
 degree ; if he erred in behavioiu^ it was, if one 
 may say so, in the other direction : on the very 
 rare and trivial occasions when Sir Eobert and 
 his wife disagreed, IVIr. Walcot always took the 
 side of the latter, and in so doing occasionally 
 threw into his manner a touch of patronage. 
 The feelings of some wives are very sensitive
 
 12 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 on a point of this kind ; they do not wish to 
 receive foreis'n aid in contending^ with their 
 husbands, and especially to owe their victory to 
 it. And it must be acknowledged that what- 
 ever Mx. Ferdinand Walcot took in hand was 
 not only done, and effectually, but also sug- 
 gested the idea that he could do twice or even 
 ten times as much with equal ease : a state of 
 things which, when we ourselves have had 
 some trouble with the same matters and have 
 failed, it is not in human nature not to resent. 
 
 With the exception of this trifling and only 
 occasional source of friction, the relations of Mr. 
 Walcot with the mistress of the Hall were 
 amicable, if not cordial ; while with the other 
 inmates of the house he was on excellent terms. 
 As these persons were of both sexes and of 
 various characters, this must be surely put doAvn 
 to his credit. Nature, too, there was no doubt, 
 had been friendly to Ferdinand Walcot. He 
 was thirty-five years of age, but had still the 
 figure and even the grace of youth. His dark 
 liair, though it could not boast of a curl, was
 
 THE TWO MASTERS. 13 
 
 still fine and plentiful ; bis face was handsome, 
 pale, and full of thought. At the first glance 
 you would have said, ' This is a student ;' but 
 there was too much mobility of feature, of the 
 lively play of intelhgence, for a lover of books. 
 His eyes were large, soft, and gentle, but could 
 on occasion suddenly become keen and penetrat- 
 ing. He claimed to have some mesmeric powers, 
 of the commoner sort, and had certainly a very 
 attractive manner and address ; of this he was 
 very conscious without being conceited about it. 
 He used to say of himself, quite simply, ' People 
 like to have me about them whether sick or 
 well.' This was certainly the case with his 
 brother-in-law and host. Sir Eobert, a gentleman 
 of such highly nervous temperament that the 
 good folks, his neighboiu-s, while admitting his 
 many virtues, scarcely knew at times ' what to 
 make of him,' and who was never so much at 
 ease as in Mr. Walcot's company. 
 
 And yet, as in most cases of intmiate friend- 
 ship, there was little similarity of character in 
 these two men, except that they both wore the
 
 14 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 intellectual stamp. Walcot was a tall, strong, 
 though somewhat lean figure, dark as a 
 Spaniard, with a musical but decisive voice ; 
 Sir Eobert a small grey man, frail of limb, 
 somewhat weazened as to face, though comely, 
 too, and hke a gentleman in presence. He was 
 the senior of his brother-in-law by at least ten 
 years, and looked older yet ; at times, when 
 excited, his utterance was shrill and rapid, like 
 a very old man's, but more generally it was 
 hesitating, thoughtful, and with that sort of 
 echo in it which may be noticed in the voices 
 of those who concern themselves mainly with 
 the past.
 
 15 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 
 
 The two men I have attempted to present to 
 the mind's eye of the reader are sitting together 
 in the great dining-room of the HaU on a 
 certain September evening ; the ladies, that is 
 to say, Lady Arden and her eldest daughter, 
 Evelyn (who, though she is eighteen, and has 
 accordingly ' come out,' still retains her school- 
 room name of Evy), have long retired from the 
 dessert table ; and their absence has been, as 
 usual, the signal for producing the cigarette box 
 which Hes between the two gentlemen, and 
 within easy reach of cither's hand. The table, 
 which is one adapted for a small party, has been 
 laid in the great bay window, so that three fair 
 scenes are presented to them at once ; on one
 
 i6 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 side, the avenue, its two straight hues of oak 
 appearing in the far distance to contradict 
 Euclid's definition by meeting and enclosing a 
 space ; in the centre the bowling-green, of late 
 years desecrated to croquet, but yet retaining 
 — thanks to a grand background of ' those 
 green-robed senators, the trees ' — most of its 
 venerable air ; and, on the third side, a portion 
 of the garden proper, still ablaze with red 
 geraniums with their blue borders of lobelias. 
 
 Sir Eobert has his gaze dreamily fixed upon 
 this spot ; and Mr. Walcot's eyes, as is common 
 with him, follow those of his companion. They 
 are not engaged in conversation, nor have they 
 spoken for some time — a circumstance which 
 discomposes neither of them ; they are much 
 too intimate with one another not to be able to 
 endure any amount of silence ; but their reflec- 
 tions often run — to some distance at least — in 
 the same groove. The beautiful description of 
 the poet of two sympathetic minds, whose 
 
 Thought leapt out to wed with thought 
 Ere thought could wed itself with speech,
 
 A TETE-A-TETE, 17 
 
 was only, however, in part applicable to them. 
 Ml. Walcot often knew what liis host and friend 
 was thinking of, but the reverse of this was not 
 the case. Nor was this to be wondered at, the 
 elder living almost wholly in the past — a past 
 with which the other was more or less 
 acquainted, and the younger concerning him- 
 self mainly with the future. 
 
 It was curious, however, how veiy clearly 
 Sir Eobert's train of thous^ht was sometimes 
 
 CD 
 
 followed by that of his companion — an instance 
 of which occmTed at this moment. Into the 
 garden plot comes a young girl, with a pair of 
 ' Les Graces ' sticks and a hoop in her hand ; 
 she stands sideways to the bay window, and 
 proceeds, unconscious of spectators, to play the 
 game with some one who stands nearer to the 
 house, and is, therefore, not in sight. The 
 effect is pecuhar, since she appears to put her- 
 self into a hundred attitudes without any other 
 object than to exhibit her grace and beauty. 
 She is tall and fair, with httle natui^al colour 
 save the rose tints which the exercise is now 
 VOL. I. c
 
 i8 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 giving to her, but her complexion is exquisitely- 
 delicate ; her long brown hair, tossed back from 
 her face, with each quick movement of lier 
 shapely neck, flows well-nigh to her waist ; 
 and now and again her bright Hps part and a 
 merry laugh breaks out from them, evoked by 
 some blunder of her unseen playmate ; 
 
 A vision fit to make an old man young. 
 
 Sir Kobert gazes on it with serene content ; 
 Mr. Walcot with a deep-set pleasure that is 
 seldom indeed permitted to reveal itself as at 
 present ; but his companion, always unobservant, 
 is now utterly wrapped in his own thoughts. 
 His eyes, however, being presently raised to 
 the top of the tall cedar on the lawn, which 
 sways and swerves as if under the influence of 
 a tornado, though all lesser things in that 
 sheltered spot are calm and well nigh motionless, 
 he exclaims with anxiety, ' There is a storm at 
 sea ! ' 
 
 ' George does not start till Thursday,' 
 returns Mr. Walcot in his measured tones.
 
 A XETE-A-TETE. . 19 
 
 He understands at once the connection 
 whicli has led his companion's thoughts from 
 Miss Evy to his nephew, and the apprehension 
 that has been aroused in his mind. 
 
 ' He said he should pass through Paris, and 
 might be a day or two late, or a day or two 
 earlier,' continued Sir Eobert, nervously. 
 
 'To-day is but Monday, however, Arden. 
 Moreover, this storm would not affect ships 
 upon that route — it is to the last degree unlikely 
 he would come by Bristol.' 
 
 ' Why ? ' inquired the other, quickly, yet 
 without testiness ; he was very willing to be 
 convinced. 
 
 ' Because it is the cheap route.' 
 
 Sir Eobert laughed good-humouredly. 
 
 ' Well, George is not very economical, that 
 is true ; but what does it matter ? — when I am 
 gone there will be enough for everybody, 
 himself included. Did I ever tell you how the 
 dog answered me at Heidelberg, when I rated 
 him for his extravagance, and told him that at 
 his age I should not have dreamt of running 
 c 2
 
 20 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 into such expenses. "Ah !/' he said, "but you 
 had no rich old uncle as I have." One cannot 
 help liking a frank lad hke that — you allow he 
 is frank, don't you ? ' 
 
 'I did not say anytliing to the contrary, 
 didi?' 
 
 ' No ; but you did not speak, and with you 
 Silence does not always mean Consent.' 
 
 'It means, in this case, disinclination to 
 differ, Arden,' answered the other, softly. ' I 
 hke your nephew ; you are as fortunate, it 
 seems to me, in your one blood relation as any 
 man can expect to be ; but when you speak 
 of him as though his chief virtue was frankness 
 — then — well, I must be excused for remaining 
 silent.' 
 
 ' Ferdinand, pray be more explicit ! * 
 exclaimed Sir Eobert. ' Hoav can you, with 
 your eyes upon that piu^e girl destined for his 
 bride, treat his hypocrisy — if he has been a 
 hypocrite — so lightly ? If he has deceived me^ 
 may he not deceive her ' 
 
 ' He has certainly deceived you^ put in the
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 21 
 
 other, quietly ; ' but a young man need not be 
 rendered an outcast for a mere venial crime. 
 I should not even have thought of mentioning 
 it had you not been so importunate for the 
 proof of his guilt.' Here Mr. Walcot's swift 
 intelligence had a little forestalled matters ; 
 for there had been no importunity such as he 
 had described as yet. 
 
 'Of course I require the proof,' said Sir 
 Eobert, falling into the groove that had been 
 thus cut for him. 'I should not dream of 
 condemning George unheard.' 
 
 'It is not a question of condemnation, I 
 hope, nor even of reprobation,' answered Mr. 
 Walcot. ' But, since you speak of your 
 nephew's frankness, I will tell you what I saw 
 him do at Homburg, the very day before we 
 left him. Do you remember finding him in 
 a Saloon there, contrary to your express 
 injunctions?' 
 
 'I remember forbidding him to play, 
 but not, I think, to enter the gambhng 
 room ; otherwise I should have been annoyed
 
 22 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 to find bim there as I did, standing by the 
 trente et quarante table. I remember the 
 circumstance, now you mention it, perfectly.' 
 
 ' You caused him to lose about forty pounds 
 that morning.' 
 
 'I? How could that be? He nearer 
 played ; and, besides, he came away with 
 us.' 
 
 ' Yes ; but he had been playing. He drew 
 back from the table as you entered, and left his 
 stake upon it ; on the red. The red turned up 
 four times, while you were speaking to him, 
 yet he did not dare to take up his gains. At 
 last, as was certain to be the case, he saw 
 them swept away before his eyes. To 
 see him listening, with apparent seriousness, 
 to all your good advice against gaming, while 
 his eyes were fixed upon the cards, and his 
 thoughts occupied with the idea of how he 
 was wasting his good luck, was as good as a 
 comedy.' 
 
 ' It seems to me to have been a very bad 
 piece of taste, to say the least of it, and
 
 A TETE-A'TETE. 23 
 
 with nothing laughable about it,' observed Sir 
 Eobert, gravely. 
 
 ' You are too serious-minded, Arden ; your 
 own feelings of honour are too delicate ; and, 
 besides, you must remember George is but a 
 boy.' 
 
 ' He is old enough to think of taking the 
 responsibihty of another's happiness upon his 
 own shoulders,' answered the other ; 'it is 
 useless for you to make any excuses for him, 
 though I respect the motive whicli prompts 
 you to do so. Still, even you may have been 
 mistaken. I will tax the lad with it with my 
 own lips, and see what he has to say for 
 himself.' 
 
 ' No, Arden, you must not do that,' answered 
 Walcot, quietly. ' The fact is, I have myself 
 been guilty of a breach of confidence in the 
 matter. I perceived George's error — for it 
 was but that at most — and reproached him 
 with it. He did not attempt to deny it, but 
 he promised amendment for the futiu-e. 
 Under these circumstances I am afraid it was
 
 24 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 tacitly understood between us that I should 
 not mention the matter to your ears.' 
 
 ' Then I am very sorry you did,' said 
 Sir Eobert, in tones of deep annoyance. 
 
 ' And so am I, Arden. I have done amiss ; 
 my desire that your charity — I mean, of course, 
 your kindness of heart — should not be imposed 
 upon has carried me too far. Of course you 
 can tax George with this peccadillo ; he will 
 confess to it Avithout much remorse, if I am 
 not mistaken in his character ; but he will look 
 upon me, and with reason, as having in a 
 manner betrayed him — he will hold me hence- 
 forth as his enemy ' 
 
 ' Nay, he shall not do that, Ferdinand,' 
 interrupted the other. ' No one shall ever do 
 that in my house. Let bygones be bygones. 
 He shall never know that I know aught about it, 
 although it gives me pain to think of George 
 as otherwise than truthful. I had thought 
 him as open-hearted as he certainly is open- 
 handed.' 
 
 ' Without doubt he is that, Arden, though.
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 25 
 
 having no money of his own, one can hardly 
 put it down to his credit. He has other virtues, 
 however, I make no question.' 
 
 ' You have saddened me, Ferdinand,' said 
 Sir Eobert, after a pause. 
 
 Mr. Walcot raised his shoulders and smiled 
 sadly. It was evident that he had said all he 
 had to say, and was sorry it had been so much. 
 There was a long silence. The baronet rose 
 and went slowly to the window ; the girl had 
 left the garden, and the light of the moon was 
 on the trees, the tops of which rocked and 
 vibrated more than ever. 
 
 ' There is a terrible storm at sea, I am sure, 
 Walcot. Hush ! — is that thunder ? ' 
 
 ' No, it is a minute-gun.' As he spoke, the 
 door opened, and in ran a fair-faced blue-eyed 
 lad of about nine years old. 
 
 'Oh, Papa! oh, Mr. Walcot! There is a 
 shipwreck off the Point ! ' 
 
 The boy's words were significant of much. 
 He had called Sir Eobert, who was but his step- 
 father, Papa, as indeed he might well do in
 
 26 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 return for much loving treatment ; and he had 
 then addressed himself to Mr. Walcot, as being 
 the master of the house de facto if not de jure, 
 and the person to be appealed to in every 
 emergency. The flushed face and glowing 
 eyes of the speaker betrayed intense excite- 
 ment. 
 
 'If there is shipwreck there is danger to 
 some poor souls, Frank.' said Sir Eobert, re- 
 provingly. ' You should be sorry rather than 
 pleased at such a catastrophe.' 
 
 ' Oh, but indeed, Papa, I am sorry, only ' 
 
 ' Only we young people are a little thought- 
 less, eh? ' put in Mr. Walcot. ' We are apt 
 only to think of ourselves, even though what is 
 fun to us (as in the case of the fable of the 
 Frogs) may be death to others.' 
 
 ' Don't let us say " Death," said Sir Eobert, 
 gently. ' And, even if it be so, how can the 
 young picture it to themselves ? We are not 
 angry with you, my boy. If there was any 
 one on board that unhappy ship in which you 
 had any interest or connection you would feel
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. :^ 
 
 sorry enough, I know You smile, Fer- 
 dinand. What is it ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, nothing ; I was only smiling at human 
 nature. As it happens, there is in all human 
 probabihty on board this very ship some one 
 connected with our young friend ; but then it 
 is not likely to be a pleasant connection. Lady 
 Arden expects the new governess from Bristol 
 to-morrow. She should arrive there from the 
 Continent by sea to-night.' 
 
 ' Good heavens ! I had forgotten that ; but 
 so, of course, had Frank ; else his conduct 
 would have been heartless indeed.' 
 
 Again Mr. Walcot shrugged his shoulders, 
 and smiling his pitying smile. 
 
 ' You expect too much of poor humanity,' 
 he said ; ' you have been taught to look for too 
 much.' 
 
 ' That is true, indeed,' said Sir Eobert, with a 
 deep sigh. ' There was no one like my Madeline 
 for thinking of others, nor ever will be.' He sat 
 down in his chair again, as though quite forgetful 
 of his intention to go out, and covered his face
 
 28 UNDER^ ONE ROOF. 
 
 in his hands. The thud of another storm-gun 
 broke the silence, and once more roused him to 
 a sense of the occasion. ' Come,' said he, ' let 
 us do what we can ; it is well to remember the 
 dead, but we must not forget the living.'
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 FRO^I THE QUAY. 
 
 When the two men entered the hall for their 
 coats and wraps, they found all the rest of the 
 family about to start on the same exciting 
 errand — that is, all the able-bodied ones, which 
 did not include ' Baba' Nicoll (aged three and 
 a half), nor Lady Arden herself, who never 
 trusted herself to the tender mercies of the 
 night air (in the country), and objected to all 
 excitements (such as ship^vrecks) which were 
 not of a strictly fashionable kind. Notwith- 
 standing her thick Ulster and hard cap, and the 
 great fur scarf that was wound round her shapely 
 neck, Evelyn looked distractingly lovely, as she 
 would have equally done in the shovel hat 
 of a bishop or a coalheaver, for her beauty
 
 30 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 was such that attire did not so much become 
 her as she it. Cousin George, as she called hini 
 (though, of course, they were not relations), 
 used to admire her most in the rough costume 
 that the wind and weather of Halcombe neces- 
 sitated, and had dubbed her (almost everybody 
 at the Hall had a nickname) ' the Fair Smuggler/ 
 Milly Nicoll — her real name of Millicent 
 was absolutely forgotten, the only record of it 
 being at the Eegister Office in Marylebone 
 Church,^ where she had been christened — was 
 two years junior to Evy, and therefore but one 
 year beyond the age described by the poet as 
 'bashful fifteen.' But no one but a poet could 
 have called her ' bashful.' She was about to be- 
 come so, it is true — ' Tomboys ' always do so in 
 due time — but for the present she was like an 
 untamed colt, shaggy as to her hair, which was 
 of a deeper brown than her sister's ; wild 
 though tender as to her hazel eyes ; and as to 
 hmbs a very tarantula. Yet, strange to say, in 
 that perpetual motion of theirs, there was never 
 a false concord — the least awkwardness.
 
 FROM THE QUAY. 31 
 
 She liad equipped herself, on this occasion, 
 in a pea-jacket of Cousin George's, and with her 
 sailor hat, and ever-twinkling legs, looked like 
 that marine young person whose gallant conduct 
 under fire was rewarded, as the bard informs 
 us, by the First Lieutenantship of the gallant 
 ' Thunderbomb.' Curiously enough, that ballad 
 was Milly's favourite poem (indeed the only one 
 she cared about), and those stirring lines 
 
 Which, when the Captain corned for to hear of it, 
 Very much applauded what she'd done, 
 
 were frequently on her lips. 
 
 Frank himself, with his delicate eager face, 
 and large, soft, restless eyes, scarcely looked 
 more like a sailor boy than his two sisters, 
 which was the cause of much domestic ' chaff.' 
 He had w^hat others beside his mother termed 
 a ' heavenly temper ; ' but the way to ruffle it 
 was to ' call him out of his name,' to address 
 him in place of Frank, or Franky, as Finella, or, 
 still worse, by its contraction ' NeUie.' He 
 would bear it from the god-father who gave it
 
 32 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 him (Cousin George), but from no one else; 
 though oddly enough the first syllable of it, 
 euphonised to ' Fifi,' was an address to which 
 the young fellow would answer with the greatest 
 docility. 
 
 It is not to be seriously contended, of course, 
 that these three young people were starting out 
 upon a rescue expedition ; but nevertheless 
 each was provided with something or other — if 
 it was but a flask of brandy — that might be of 
 use to some half-drowned wretch if opportunity 
 arose ; and if their eagerness had something of 
 delight in it, all genuine students of human 
 nature will forgive them. They were looking 
 on no ' sinking ship and praying hands,' it 
 must be remembered, but only going vaguely 
 forth on an errand of high excitement, and of 
 which, as it happened, they had had no previous 
 experience. It was curious and very striking 
 to mark the comparative calmness of the air 
 Avhile the little party crossed the lawn, and 
 made their way up the terrace at the back of 
 the Hall, and then to compare it with the fury
 
 FROM THE QUAY. 33 
 
 of the blast that met them on the hill top. It 
 had blown in the door that led through the 
 garden wall into the churchyard, and was 
 streaming through the aperture like pent-up 
 waters through a suddenly-discovered channel. 
 ' Fifi/ wdio was first, went dow^n before it, as 
 though it had been a volley of musketry, and 
 he the first stormer in the breach. The two 
 girls only saved each other by an involuntary 
 embrace and a flank movement (very hurried 
 and confused) behind the sheltering wall. Then 
 Sir Eobert moved forward, throwing a word of 
 raillery to the young ladies, upon their pusil- 
 lanimous conduct. His fate would have been 
 the worst of the four, for the wind whisked him 
 off his legs, and would have laid him as prone 
 as Frank, without that young gentleman's ability 
 to pick himself up again, had not a strong arm 
 linked itself with his at the critical moment. 
 
 ' Union is strength, and a twofold man is 
 not easily withstood,' said Walcot in his ear as 
 he landed him on the right side of the wall, 
 and with his back to it. It was characr eristic 
 
 YOL. I. D
 
 34 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 of the man to imply tliat the other was giving 
 him aid in retm-n for his own, instead of being, 
 as he really was, an additional burthen. Frank 
 came after them with a rush, and was instantly 
 flattened against the wall by liis step-father's 
 side, like a small placard beside a large one. 
 
 Then Mr. Walcot went back for the ladies ; 
 Milly at once seized him by the coat-tails and 
 hung on, and with head depressed and body 
 bent he charged the pass and brought her 
 through triumphantly. 
 
 In view of its success Evelyn would, perhaps, 
 have adopted the same simple plan, but Mr. 
 Walcot did not give her the opportunity : 
 doubtless, being a great stickler for the pro- 
 prieties, he thought it indecorous ; he took her 
 left hand in his, and, with his right arm round 
 her waist, bore her steadily, if somewhat slowly, 
 through the breach. This Thermopyl^ of the 
 winds being thus carried, progress, though very 
 difficult, became possible ; the church itself 
 afforded the little party some oblique protec- 
 tion, as they made their way through its God's
 
 FROM THE QUAY. 35 
 
 Acre. This spot, to a stranger's eyes — who did 
 not happen to have a tornado blowing into 
 them — would have afforded a curious spectacle. 
 There were but a few homely graves in it ; but 
 one corner of it was devoted to the reception of 
 the bodies of poor sliipwrecked souls who had 
 been from time to time cast ashore on the 
 rocks below. To these it could hardly have 
 been expected that the parish should supply 
 gravestones ; but pious hands had done what 
 they could. Large sea-shells were laid on every 
 swelling mound to mark the fate of him who 
 lay beneath it ; and in some cases the figure- 
 heads of the lost vessels had been set up by 
 way of monument. One of these, the bust of 
 a young person without raiment, the ' Erin,' of 
 Bristol, stood out from the sacred soil in a 
 manner which, by moonlight, had a very strik- 
 ing effect, and had once frightened a new Curate 
 almost out of his wits ; his ideas (running in a 
 Scriptural direction) having led him to imagine 
 that she was anticipating the Eesurrection Day. 
 It seemed wonderful, indeed, with that
 
 36 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 tempest howling and roaring over the long 
 grasses of their graves, that the dead themselves 
 could he so quietly ; for all the powers of the 
 air were abroad that night and working their 
 wild will on earth and sea and sky. The moon 
 was at the full ; but was only visible by fits, 
 when the hurrying masses of grey clouds left 
 her pale face clear at intervals of unequal du- 
 ration. A gTeat master of word-painting has 
 described the wind as coming into a ' rocking 
 town and stabbing all things up and down ; ' 
 but to no town-dweller can be conveyed an 
 adequate conception of the force and fury of 
 that element as it rages on such a coast as that 
 which lies around Halcombe Point. The very 
 land seemed to shudder as it swept across it ; 
 the sea grew livid under its ceaseless scourging. 
 As far as the eye could reach, from the hill 
 above the Point, was a world of wild white 
 waters, the foam of which was dashed upwards 
 in sheets fathoms high, and carried inland in 
 sharp sleet. 
 
 On this white surface there was but one
 
 FROM THE OCAV. 37 
 
 object, from which ever and anon there flashed 
 a jet of flame, succeeded by a dull thud — a 
 hoarse cry for help that it lay not in human 
 power to give ; it looked, and was, but a black, 
 inert mass, a broken plaything, of which the 
 storm had not yet tired ; but it had been, an 
 hour ago, a gallant steamshij), prompt to obey 
 its master, man. The Avind was now the only 
 power it acknowledged, and it was being driven 
 before it at headlong speed towards the Point. 
 The httle party, huddled together for foot- 
 hold, gazed on this spectacle with awestruck 
 eyes. 
 
 ' Poor souls, poor souls ! ' cried Sir Robert. 
 ' Good God ! can nothing be done ? ' 
 
 'Nothing,' answered Walcot, gravely. 
 ' She will go to pieces when she touches the 
 rocks.' 
 
 ' Thank Heaven, here is Mr. Dyneley, with 
 some men ! ' ejaculated Evy, looking back. 
 
 ' Mr. Dyneley is a clergyman. Miss Evelyn,' 
 answered Walcot, with the least touch of scorn, 
 ' but he cannot work miracles.'
 
 38 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 ' He has, however, brought the mortar ap- 
 paratus,' observed Milly, naively. 
 
 And, mdeed, as the tall, brown-bearded 
 Curate drew nigh, they could see that he was 
 followed by half a dozen stalwart men, who 
 dragged behind them the implement in ques- 
 tion. 
 
 ' A sad sight. Sir Eobert,' bawled the Curate 
 (for indeed every one spoke at the full stretch 
 of their lungs) ; ' but if the ladies can bear to 
 look at it you had better bring them down to 
 the mill.' 
 
 This was the saw mill, of which we have 
 already spoken, built upon the very edge of 
 the harbour, and the only place for miles upon 
 the coast in which on such a night shelter could 
 be found. 
 
 ' You are always right, Dyneley,' said Sir 
 Eobert, approvingly ; ' do you take charge of 
 one of the girls.' 
 
 With a diffident, hesitating air that con- 
 trasted rather comically with his stature and 
 proportions, the young Curate was about to
 
 FROM THE QUAY. 39 
 
 offer Ills arm to Evy ; but Mr. Walcot, who 
 stood beside her, was quicker in his movements, 
 and took possession of that young lady, leaving 
 her sister to fall to the other's share. 
 
 Thus they moved down the hill together to 
 the mill, from the Avindows of which could be 
 obtained almost as good a view of the driving 
 ship as from the hill itself; but, nevertheless, 
 such was the excitement of the httle party, that 
 they preferred to stand outside, sheltered only 
 in a very moderate degree by the low stone 
 wall of the quay. 
 
 The vessel, we have said, was approaching 
 the Point very rapidly, but not in a direct line ; 
 it was possible that she might just skirt it, and 
 go ashore a few score yards beyond. In this 
 case her destruction would not be so immediate ; 
 butj on the other hand, the life-lines could 
 hardly be shot over her from the apparatus. 
 The Curate and his men, however, had everything 
 in readiness ; you would have said, to judge 
 by their resolute and earnest faces as they stood 
 beside the mortar, that they were about to
 
 40 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 defend their native soil ao'ainst the attack of a 
 foe. Mr. Walcot, too, faced the cruel blast 
 with stern eyes and knitted brow, except when 
 he dropped a word of exhortation to be of 
 good courage to Evy ; but Sir Eobert and the 
 young people wore looks of fear and pity, and 
 more than one of them already repented that 
 they had come out with a light heart to behold 
 so sad a scene. 
 
 'Do you know the ship? ' asked the Curate 
 of the man beside him. He himself had been 
 on the coast for years, but to his landsman's 
 eyes the shattered mass before him was but a 
 black and shapeless hidk. 
 
 ' It is the " Ehineland," answered the other, 
 confidently ; ' the steamer that plies between 
 liotterdam and Bristol.' 
 
 ' You may say " that used to ply " ' put in 
 another — it was John Jenkins, parish clerk, wlio 
 plumed himself on employing terms of accuracy 
 — ' for she will never make another voyage.' 
 
 ' Do you hear tliat^ Mr. Walcot ? ' exclaimed 
 Evelyn, in terrified accents. ' it is the " Ehine-
 
 FROM THE QUAY. 41 
 
 land ; " that is the boat that poor Miss Hurt is to 
 come bv.' 
 
 ' Was to come by,' murmured Mr. Jenkins, 
 fortunately beneath his ordinary ecclesiastical 
 tones, so that the amendment was inaudible. 
 
 The huge hull came flying on, like some 
 mighty sea-bird on a broken wing, for whose 
 discordant screams the shriekins^ of the wind 
 might easily have been taken ; her mainmast 
 and rigging could now be clearly seen standing 
 out against the moonlight ; without a rag of 
 sail or puff of steam, her ghastly and spectral 
 form was hurrying on, when her headlong 
 course was suddenly arrested ; the crash of 
 rending timber was mingled for an instant with 
 the roaring of the storm, and a wliite shroud of 
 foam enveloped her and hid her from sight. 
 
 ' God of Heaven, she has foundered ! ' 
 exclaimed Sir Eobert. The two girls uttered a 
 scream of anguish. 
 
 'Xay, I still see her,' cried the Curate, 
 eagerly. 
 
 ' She is on the Lancet, su-,' said a coast-
 
 42 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 guardsman. 'The wind must have shifted a 
 point to have took her there.' 
 
 The Lancet was a long sharp hne of rocks, 
 about two hundred yards from shore, but quite 
 disconnected with it ; the waves always covered 
 it, but at low tide — which was now the case — 
 only a few inches. 
 
 The hull looked considerably higher now 
 than when she had been in the water, the wind 
 and waves having probably carried her bodily on 
 to the ledge ; nevertheless, in her stationary 
 position, the sea, climbing and raging about her 
 at its will, seemed to devour her more com- 
 pletely even than before. 
 
 ' Is the position altered for the better by 
 this, Marley .^ ' inquired the Curate, anxiously. 
 
 ' She may hold together now for a few 
 hours,' answered the coastguardsman ; ' but she 
 will go to pieces at the flow.' He was an old 
 sailor, and his mind was fixed on the fate of 
 the ship rather than on those it carried. 
 
 ' I mean as respects the poor souls on board, 
 man,' continued the Curate, with some asperity.
 
 FROM THE QUAY. 43 
 
 ' lu my opinion nothing can save tliem, sir. 
 If the men at Archester have already pnt out 
 the hfeboat, it is possible they may be here in 
 time ; but not otherwise.' 
 
 ' But is it not probable they have done so ? ' 
 
 ' No, sir ; they must have known from her 
 position (judging fr'om the sound of the guns) 
 that the ship would be ashore hours before they 
 could reach her ; and of course they did not 
 take into account the chance of her grounding 
 on the Lancet.' 
 
 ' A swift horse, even with this wind across 
 him, would reach Archester in an hour,' solilo- 
 quised the Curate. ' I am a heavy weight ; but 
 then I know how to ride, which these men 
 don't. — Might I take your bay mare, Sir 
 Eobert ? ' 
 
 ' Of course, my dear fellow ; and don't spare 
 her. Ten pounds apiece from me, mind, to 
 every man who mans the lifeboat, but don't 
 volunteer yourself, Dyneley ; Halcombe can't 
 spare you.' 
 
 ' The compliment was lost on him for whom
 
 44 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 it was intended, for the Curate was already on 
 the slope of the hill. 
 
 ' He's a rare good plucked one,' observed 
 Mr. Jenkins, approvingly, ' and alius was.' 
 
 ' Especially at the University,' muttered Mr. 
 Walcot ; not so low, however, but that Evy, 
 who was still his close companion, could catch 
 the sneer. 
 
 ' I can now stand by myself quite well,' 
 said she, withdrawing her arm. The tone was 
 as unmistakable as the action, and signified not 
 only mere disapproval, but disgust. 
 
 ' A thousand pardons, Miss Evy ; I did not 
 intend my little joke to be overheard.' 
 
 ' I don't think this is a time for jokes, Mr. 
 Walcot.' 
 
 ' Or rather, Miss Evy,' returned the other, 
 tartly, ' do you not mean that Mr. Dyneley is 
 not a fit subject for them ? I had forgotten 
 that a certain Divinity doth hedge a Curate in 
 some people's eyes.' 
 
 ' When he is doing God's work, I think it 
 does so,' answered Evelyn, sharply. ' You are
 
 FROM THE QUAY. 45 
 
 always trying to turn Mr. Dyneley into ridi- 
 cule.' 
 
 ' I am very sorry ; I had no idea he was 
 under your particular protection ; of course if 
 it had been George, I should have known 
 better than in your presence to have taken 
 such a liberty with hirn. You are his natural 
 defender ; but in Dyneley 's case I had no 
 idea 
 
 She turned awa}^ from him with a face of 
 scarlet, and fixed her eyes upon the wreck, as 
 it could now in truth be called. Yet for the 
 moment she was not thinking of the vessel, nor 
 even of its unhappy crew. She was full of pity 
 for them, but a still deeper feeling than pity 
 had been stirred within her. 
 
 ' I think I see figures upon the rigging,' 
 observed Sir Eobert, anxiously. ' Is it not so, 
 Marley?' 
 
 ' Yes, sir ; the sea has found its way into 
 the hull, and some poor souls have taken to the 
 shrouds.' 
 
 ' To the shrouds ? ' murmured little Frank,
 
 46 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 trembling with awe. He knew that shrouds 
 and death were somehow associated. 
 
 'Yes, my boy,' said Su^ Kobert, kindly. 
 ' They will thus, for the time, be out of the 
 reach of the waves, and let us trust that they 
 will be able to hold on there till help arrives.' 
 
 Mr. Marley shook his head with a grunt. 
 It was his manner of expressing disagreement 
 with the Baronet's opinion. They might hold 
 on indeed up in the cross-trees and elsewhere 
 for an indefinite time ; but it was not possible, 
 he meant to imply, that the ship could hold 
 together.
 
 47 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 
 
 The storm had abated nothing of its fero- 
 city, yet none of the party at the Point thought 
 of going home. It seemed to all of them, though 
 they could do nothing in the way of help, that 
 it was a forsaking of these poor drowning 
 creatures to quit their post. But the Hall 
 folks did leave the quay and withdraw into 
 the miU, from the windows of which they 
 continued to watch the doomed vessel. 
 
 'Was not this poor Miss Hurt,' asked Sir 
 Eobert of Mr. Walcot, ' to have come to us last 
 month instead of now ? ' The Baronet knew 
 scarcely anything of the domestic arrangements 
 at the Hall, which were effected without any 
 consultation with him by his wife — not, however, 
 without some indirect assistance from Mr.
 
 48 UNDER OXE ROOF. 
 
 Walcot. He never ' meddled ; ' but her lady- 
 sliijD, who was of an indolent disposition, had 
 always the advantage of his advice, and, to say 
 truth, it was generally valuable. Mr. Walcot 
 hastened to explain. 
 
 ' Xo, Arden ; you are confusing Miss Hurt, 
 the German governess, with Annabel Spence, 
 who, but for some indisposition, was to have 
 come last month to be the young ladies' maid.' 
 
 ' Oil, yes ; I remember my wife said you 
 had recommended her.' 
 
 'Nay, it was not quite that. The young 
 person was spoken of very highly by a common 
 friend of ours ; indeed I think she mentioned 
 her to Lady Arden first. I never set eyes on 
 her but once in my life ; but her story touched 
 me, and would have touched you, with your 
 tender sensibilities, even more. You remember 
 the Swintons who li\'ed at Makerly Hall ; our 
 dear Madeline used to rather like them, you 
 know.' 
 
 ' Did she .^ ' he sidied. ' I had foro-otten — 
 and yet I thought I had forgotten nothing in
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 49 
 
 connection with her. Yes, I remember the 
 name of Swinton. This girl, then, was in ser- 
 vice with the family ? ' 
 
 ' Oh. no ; it is a much stranger history. 
 The old man had a son who died at college, 
 and after his death it was found that he had left 
 an illegitimate child. This was Annabel Spence. 
 His mother was anxious to adopt her, but the 
 old man would not hear of it.' 
 
 ' Dear, dear,' said Sir Eobert. ' It was a 
 difficult case as to morals, but I hope he was 
 not hard upon her.' 
 
 ' Well, something was done for the child ; 
 but Mrs. Swinton died first, and her washes 
 were no longer attended to.' 
 
 ' That was abominable ! ' exclaimed Sir 
 Eobert. ' The wishes of the dead ought to be 
 sacred.' 
 
 ' Of course, that is your view, Arden ; but 
 all men are not cast in the same mould. This 
 girl then, fatherless, and, as it happened, not 
 perhaps so unfortunately, motherless also, was 
 left utterly unprovided for at her grandfather's 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 deatli. A friend of Lady Arden's did what slie 
 could for her — put her in service and so on ; 
 but she is now out of place. She has the 
 highest character from her employers. There 
 is nothing against her except the misfortune of 
 her birth ; and I judged that that would not be 
 an objection in your eyes.' 
 
 ' You judged well, Walcot ; and my wife 
 also — it was the more creditable in her, how- 
 ever, being a woman.' 
 
 ' Ah, you know human nature, Arden. It 
 is, as you say, to Lady Arden's credit that this 
 poor girl is her 'protegee. But it is as well that 
 the circumstances of the case should be kept to 
 ourselves.' 
 
 ' Certainly ; though it behoves those who 
 know them to be all the kinder to the girl on 
 
 that account Do you know anything of 
 
 this poor Miss Hurt ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing whatever, except that she too 
 is an orphan girl, highly accompHshed, I believe, 
 who has been recommended to Lady Arden by 
 a German friend.'
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 51 
 
 ' I fear she will never touch Enghsh soil/ 
 said Sir Eobert, glancing at the foam- covered 
 wreck. 
 
 ' I fear not ; still, if she is doomed to meet 
 with so unhappy a fate I had rather it happened 
 now, while she is unknown to us, than after she 
 had been under your roof.' 
 
 ' Om: sorrow would be more personal, of 
 course, in that case.' 
 
 ' Yes ; but I was thinking of Annette Eoy. 
 She was poor Madehne's governess, you know ; 
 the one that was lost on her passage to Havre, 
 with her father, at Christmas time. Did she 
 never tell you about it ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes ; but my memory is not what it 
 was. I remember it but very dimly.' He spoke 
 with a nervous eagerness uncalled for, as it 
 seemed, by the occasion. ' What was it ? ' 
 
 ' Well, it was a strange story ; this Annette 
 was an old-fashioned little woman, who dressed 
 in a mob-cap, and looked Hke a buy-a-broom 
 girl. She was very particular about all her 
 little possessions, and, when she went away that 
 
 E 2 
 
 UNIVERSITY ©F ILLINO/S
 
 52 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 Christmas, left a huge box in one of the attics 
 with a written notice on it that it was not to be 
 opened till her return. She never did return, 
 and her father, who was drowned with her, was 
 the only representative she had in the world ; 
 so the question was, What was to be done with 
 the box ? However, nothing was done. It 
 lay untouched for a year till a certain bill for 
 her happened to come in from some tradesman 
 by whom it had been forgotten ; when it 
 seemed only reasonable that this should be dis- 
 charged by the sale of her effects. On the day 
 that my father had come to this decision one of 
 the maids, who had only been with us a few 
 months, ran down to him, half frightened out of 
 her wits, to say that there was a strange woman 
 in the attic. She said " she stared at her like a 
 dead creature, and had a baggy lace cap on." ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' said Sir Eobert, ' I remember it 
 all now ; my poor Madeline saw the figure 
 herself.' 
 
 ' Well, she thought she saw it,' rephed Mr. 
 Walcot ; ' I am slow to beheve such stories. 
 
 M
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 53 
 
 Still occurrences of that kind are disagreeable 
 in a house ; and whether they occur or not 
 they are easily imagined. That is why I said I 
 am glad for your sake that this was poor Miss 
 Hurt's first voyage rather than her second. 
 When any inmate of a house comes to a violent 
 end, superstitious ideas are always suggested.' 
 
 ' I would prefer to say that spiritual condi- 
 tions are likely to be induced, Walcot,' answered 
 the other, gravely. ' If, for instance, instead of 
 my sweet Madeline having expired tranquilly in 
 my arms, such a fate as that of yonder poor 
 creature had overtaken her, I should, I know, 
 have been haunted by her dripping form, her 
 fair hair draggled in the brine — pshaw ! I 
 tremble to think of it.' 
 
 There was a look of horror on Sir Eobert's 
 face at least as marked as that which the spec- 
 tacle of the shipwreck had at first evoked on 
 it ; it was curious under such circumstances that 
 Mr. Walcot should have pursued the subject ; 
 but perhaps he thought tlie opportunity for the 
 administration of a little pure reason was not to
 
 54 UNDER ONE ROOE. 
 
 be thrown away. His silence might have 
 seemed too hke adhesion to the other's fantastic 
 views. 
 
 ' I think you should say, Arden, that in the 
 case you put, you would have imagined yourself 
 to be so haunted. When the feelings are deeply 
 moved the imagination becomes a slave to 
 them.' 
 
 ' One is obliged to believe the evidence of 
 one's own senses,' answered Sir Eobert, 
 gloomily. 
 
 ' I do not see the necessity. Moreover, 
 some of our senses are more liable to deception 
 than others.' 
 
 Sir Eobert w^aved his hand with a depreca- 
 tory air. ' I know what you are hinting at, 
 Walcot, and appreciate your good intentions. 
 It is no use arguing the matter, and especially ' 
 — here he threw a glance at the young people 
 who were crowded at the other window — ' since 
 we are not alone. It is enough for me that I 
 know what I know\' 
 
 Mr. Walcot uttered a sympathising sigh, and
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 55 
 
 was silent. Notliing was heard in the almost 
 empty chamber — the only room the mill 
 afforded, not used for the purposes of trade — 
 but the roaring of the wind and tlie rattling of 
 the window frames. The minute-guns of the 
 ship had long ceased to fire, and, indeed, so far 
 as matters could be made out, the sea had made 
 a clean sweep of her. 
 
 Presently there was a knock at the door, 
 and a short thick-set man, with a shawl wound 
 about his neck, presented himself He held 
 his cap in his hand, and thereby displayed a 
 head covered with red stubble mingled with 
 grey. 
 
 ' The mistress says,' observed he in a strong 
 north-country accent, ' that it is very late for 
 the young ladies and the bairn to be out of doors, 
 and the sooner they gang hame the better.' 
 
 Sir 'Eobert looked displeased. This gar- 
 dener's rough manner always annoyed him, but 
 for that very reason he passed over certain 
 misdemeanours in the man — especially a fond- 
 ness for nips of w^hisky at premature hours — lest
 
 56 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 he should act harshly towards him through 
 prejudice. 
 
 ' That was not her ladyship's own message, 
 Groad,' remarked Mr. Walcot, severely 
 
 'Well, no, sir ' — the man's voice took a more 
 respectful tone at once, though it was far from 
 deferential — ' I took the mistress's orders from 
 Mr. Beamish.' 
 
 ' And why didn't Beamish bring the message 
 himself? ' 
 
 ' Because all the breath was out of his body 
 before he got to the kirkyard wall, sir,' grinned 
 the gardener. ' He was blowed down flat — or 
 at leastways as flat as his shape permitted — by 
 the wind in the wicket gap.' 
 
 ' Oh, papa dear, don't send us home ! ' pleaded 
 Frank, removing for an instant his sharp thin 
 face from the window pane to which it was 
 glued in rapt excitement. 'I do so want to see 
 the lifeboat come.' 
 
 ' And I,' echoed Milly ; ' I am sure I could 
 never get a wink of sleep till I knew what is to 
 become of those poor creatures yonder.'
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 57 
 
 'You can know tliat, ]\Iissie, by just putting 
 a word to any coast-guardsman,' observed 
 Groad, slowly ; ' they all say as they'll be 
 drownded.' 
 
 ' If it is God's will, man, it will be so, and 
 not otherwise,' exclaimed Sir Eobert, reprov- 
 ingly. ' What do you tliink, Walcot, about the 
 young people going home ? ' 
 
 Before Mr. Walcot could reply, Evelyn inter- 
 posed: ' Of course, if mamma wishes it, we will 
 go home, but she does not understand that we 
 are in shelter here ; and I do think that neither 
 Milly nor Frank will get much rest till they 
 know what happens to these poor people. Baba 
 was sound asleep wlien I came away, so that 
 we have only ourselves to look after.' 
 
 'It will be a good many hours,' said Sir 
 Eobert, doubtfullv, and lookins; at Mr. Wal- 
 cot. 
 
 ' Still, as Miss Evelyn says,' replied the latter 
 gentleman, ' the young folks are too excited to 
 go to sleep. And if they could get refresh- 
 ments ' Here the door opened again, and
 
 58 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 admitted a good-looking young fellow bearing 
 a small hamper on his shouldei^s. 
 
 ' I have brought some bread and butter and 
 things from the farm,' said the new comer, 
 ' which Mr. Dyneley sent down, Sir Eobert, 
 with his compliments ; and he says if a bit of 
 fire was lit here he thinks a cup of tea might 
 be of advantage to the young ladies.' 
 
 ' That is the very thing,' said Sk Eobert ; 
 'now the garrison is victualled for the night. 
 Thank you, Gilbert ; it was very thoughtful of 
 Mr. Dyneley, very.' 
 
 ' Well yes, sir ; and he hadn't much time 
 to think of anything either. I met him coming 
 to the Hall stables, and saw him start off on the 
 mare like a flash of lightning. She'll take him 
 to Archester if four legs can do it ; but the wind 
 is mad upon the moor to-night, and that's the 
 truth.' 
 
 ' Get some sticks, Groad, and Hght the fire,' 
 said Mr. Walcot in a more authoritative voice 
 than he was accustomed to use, even out of Sir 
 Eobert's presence. He was a httle annoyed.
 
 THE NIGHT WATCH. 59 
 
 perhaps, by the forethought which the curate 
 had exhibited in sending supphes from his own 
 lodo'ino's at the Manor Farm. 
 
 John Groad obeyed, though with a very 
 ill grace ; lighting fires, except in a hot-house, 
 being as he considered an operation exceedingly 
 derogatory in a head gardener at eighty pounds 
 a year. He brought the sticks, ' as cross as 
 two of them,' as Gilbert Holm afterwards 
 observed, and even produced a kettle and coals. 
 In a few minutes the apartment lost much of 
 its cheerless aspect, and Master Frank found 
 his attention divided between the shipwreck 
 and an impromptu repast. Their exposure to 
 the wind had given him and Milly a vigorous 
 appetite, but the others only took a cup of 
 tea. 
 
 ' How I wish,' sighed Evy, ' we could give 
 of our plenty to those poor shuddering souls 
 upon the wreck ! It seems quite shocking to be 
 warm and to have no wants, while they are 
 perishing yonder of wet and cold.' 
 
 ' Tea would do them little good I fear,
 
 6o UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 Miss Evelyn,' said Mr. Walcot. ' They are 
 past that by this time. There is plenty of brandy 
 for them on the quay, however, if they ever 
 reach it.' 
 
 ' May it please God that they may ! ' observed 
 Evelyn, fervently. 
 
 Sir Eobert said nothing ; liis eyes were 
 fixed npon the casement, but his finger was 
 raised mechanically, as if for silence. 
 
 ' What is it, Arden ? ' inquired Mr. Walcot 
 in a whisper. 
 
 ' She is speaking to me,' replied he, in the 
 same under tone. ' I heard her say " Eobert, 
 Eobert." ' 
 
 ' You mean you imagined you did ; pray 
 remember we are not alone.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes : that makes no matter to her, 
 however. It was a more cheerful voice than 
 usual, Walcot. It seemed to say, " Be of good 
 courage." I believe these people will be saved.'
 
 6i 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 A TIFF. 
 
 How few even of so-called educated persons, 
 wlio trust themselves every day to the risks 
 of a railway journey, have any intelligent 
 reason for the faith that is in them ! What the 
 ordinary traveller knows of steam-power, or the 
 method by which it acts, is next to nothing ; 
 and it is doubtful whether he is even acquainted 
 with the means by which his carriage is kept 
 (when it is kept) from going off the line. 
 It is quite as well, perhaps, that this blissful 
 ignorance exists, if the opinion once expressed 
 to me by one of the most eminent of our railway 
 engineers is a correct one. ' If the public only 
 knew,' said he, ' the risks they run, especially 
 the " shaves," which take place in every railway
 
 62 UNDER ONE ROOF, 
 
 journey of any length that they undertake, 
 they would stay at home, or set up the coaches 
 again.' And if such is the ignorance of our 
 land travellers, how much greater is that of 
 our voyagers by sea, the whole confiding class 
 that is included under the head ' Passenger ! ' 
 
 It was a type of this class, rather than an 
 exception to it, that Thomas Hood alluded to, 
 in the lady who, being in a vessel which the 
 winds and waves were hurrying to its doom, 
 exhibited such courage and high spirits because 
 she had the captain's own assurance that ' they 
 were going on shore.' 
 
 When the good ship ' Ehineland ' started 
 from Eotterdam for Bristol on what turned out 
 to be her last voyage, the weather was what 
 seamen term ' dirty ; ' but it was not for those 
 who had paid the very moderate passage money 
 demanded of them to inquire whether that 
 plirase did not, in this particular case at least, 
 mean ' dangerous.' They could not be expected 
 to understand that when a large consignment of 
 cattle are eating their heads oflf at a shipowner's
 
 A TIFF. 63 
 
 expense, a vessel puts to sea in weather that, 
 under other circumstances, would keep her in 
 port, or even that the presence of cattle on the 
 deck of a steamer does not tend to increase its 
 seaworthiness. Except those unhappy persons 
 who never go to sea at all without a presenti- 
 ment that they shall be drowned, and behold 
 in every wave the instrument of their destruction, 
 the passengers by the ' Ehineland ' were with- 
 out niisgi\'ings. Those subject to sea- sickness 
 at once fled to their berths to hide their agonies 
 from the public gaze, and the others repaired 
 to the saloon — the sofas of which rocked like 
 cradles — or secured themselves in such shelter 
 as they could find upon the deck, to snatch a 
 fearful joy from the contemplation of the work 
 of a south-wester. 
 
 Among these latter were two persons, with 
 one of whom, Elise Hm-t, we are acquainted by 
 name. She is a girl of eighteen years of age 
 or so, of graceful figure, and a face which, if 
 not beautiful, according to our English notions, 
 is, at lea-st, eminently pleasing. She is tall and
 
 64 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 fair, and — well, yes — ]3lump. No other word 
 exactly expresses that particular contour which, 
 however it may err in years to come on the 
 side of stoutness, is for the present all that can 
 be desired in the way of shapeliness, and no 
 more. Her hair is of a light auburn, and very 
 plentiful ; her eyes, of tender blue, are large 
 and thoughtful, and their long lashes droop 
 over them in a manner which Solomon (who 
 was a good judge of such matters) evidently 
 appreciated ; he talks of a lady ' taking ' one 
 Avith her eyelids ; and this is what Elise Hurt's 
 eyelids did. They took you, or 'fetched' you 
 as we moderns express it, in spite of all 
 resistance. 
 
 The young EngUshman by her side upon 
 the deck has, however, made no resistance at 
 all; and to judge by the expression of his 
 bronzed and handsome face, as he arranges his 
 railway rug about her shoulders, he hugs the 
 chain that has enslaved him. His arrangements 
 for her comfort are complete enough, yet he 
 always seems to imagine that something is
 
 A TIFF. 6$ 
 
 wanting ; and his solicitude appears somewhat 
 to embarrass her. She explains to him in the 
 German tongue, which he perfectly understands, 
 that she is quite comfortable ; and also informs 
 him in a natural and simple way that she 
 is unaccustomed to such kind attentions. 
 
 ' You will quite spoil me, sir,' she says, ' if 
 you take so much trouble about me, who am 
 not only used to look after myself, but must 
 always do so.' 
 
 ' You don't know how to take care of your 
 own money,' says he with a good-natured smile, 
 that become** his olive face exceedingly. 
 
 ' That is true — or at least it was so on one 
 occasion. If you had not picked up my httle 
 purse in the church yesterday, or if it had 
 fallen into bad hands, it would have been a 
 great misfortune to me — nay, a catastrophe.' 
 
 'I did not know I had averted a catastrophe,' 
 repHed the young man. ' But it was surely 
 imprudent of you to carry so much money 
 about in your pocket.' 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 66 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 ' " So miicli money " was only a few pounds, 
 sir ; but then you see it was all I had.' 
 
 The young gentleman's eyes grew very 
 pitiful. He had a kind heart which was always 
 sorry for poor people ; but it was especially 
 sorry for this particular victim of poverty. 
 It seemed so hard that one so young and so 
 beautiful shoidd be so poor. 
 
 ' But had you no friends in Eotterdam ? ' 
 
 ' No ; ]iiy aunt — who is my only friend to 
 call such — lives at Heidelberg. My money 
 must last me for many months ; though indeed,' 
 she added, with a smile, ' if all goes w^ell I 
 expect to make more in England, and to return 
 home quite rich.' 
 
 ' And how is it, if I may make so bold, that 
 you propose to acquire this fortune ? ' 
 
 ' I am engaged as a governess in the house 
 of a rich Enghsh family. A friend of my aunt's 
 was so good as to recommend me, though I have 
 never been out before.' 
 
 ' Poor thing ! ' ejaculated the young man in 
 Enghsh. She laudied aloud.
 
 A TIFF. 67 
 
 'Take care what you say,' said she. 'I 
 have been learning your language — though it is 
 expressly enjoined on me that I am not to speak 
 it — to some purpose. I do not consider myself 
 a '' poor thing " at all, I do assure you, but a very 
 lucky girl.' 
 
 'Lucky! What, to be leaving your only 
 friend, and your native land, for a strange 
 country, and a stranger's roof ? It seems to me 
 you are thankful for small mercies. If yom- 
 case were mine, I know I should think it a very 
 hard one." 
 
 ' I hope not ; for in the first place, you see, 
 I am no longer an encumbrance to my aunt, 
 who has pinched herself for my sake. Then 
 the lady I am going to, I am assured, is kind, 
 as indeed I gatlier from her letters. My salary 
 is a better one than I could expect. I like 
 teaching young people, too ; and it is a great 
 thins: when dutv and inclination g;o together.' 
 
 ' Is it ? — Xo doubt it is — of course,' added 
 the young man, hastily ; for he saw that his 
 naive rejoinder had somewhat shocked liiscom- 
 
 F 2 .
 
 68 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 panion. ' You see unfortunately I have no 
 duties. Life has been made very easy for me.' 
 
 ' Still, I should think you would be hap- 
 pier if you made some object for yourself in 
 life.' 
 
 ' I am not sure ; I am happy enough — or 
 at least I used to be so. I used to feel that I 
 had all that I wanted. And then I am so 
 incurably indolent.' 
 
 ' To know one's faults is half-way, they say, 
 towards remedying them,' observed the girl, in 
 cheerful tones. 
 
 ' Not in my case. For example, I was as 
 nearly as possible late for the packet this morn- 
 ing, notwithstanding that I had a very particular 
 reason for coming by it.' 
 
 ' Ah, then, you have more important matters 
 on hand after all, it seems, than you would wish 
 me to believe.' 
 
 ' I have no objection to your knowing about 
 this particular one — the reason why I wanted 
 to come by the " Ehineland." It was because I 
 heard you say that you were going by it.'
 
 A TIFF. 69 
 
 ' Sir, I do not think it is riglit,' said the 
 girl, with quiet dignity, ' that you should say 
 such things to me. Such idle compliments 
 may please young ladies in your own rank of 
 life. To one in mine they are quite inappro- 
 priate, and, I must add, in my own particular 
 case, distasteful.' 
 
 ' Good Heavens ! ' ejaculated the object of 
 tliis censure. * It was unnecessary for you to 
 say that. I could see that I had made a fool of 
 myself before you opened your moutli. I am 
 constantly doing that however ' 
 
 ' With young ladies whom you meet accident- 
 ally in foreign churches ? ' put in the other, 
 gravely. 
 
 ' No ; there upon my honour you wrong 
 me. I speak thoughtlessly, I know, out of the 
 fulness of my heart ; but I am no pliilanderer 
 — what do you call it in German ? — a male flirt. 
 I despise sucli a character ; and I should still 
 more despise the man who, taking advantage of 
 having performed a trifling service to an un- 
 protected young lady to win her confidence.
 
 70 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 should venture to breathe a syllable to her that 
 should be " distasteful." ' 
 
 The young fellow spoke with fluency 
 enough, but with earnestness also ; there was 
 no glibness about his tone ; it was plain to see 
 that he had been very much moved and hurt 
 by the suggestion that he had behaved im- 
 properly. 
 
 * I am quite sure that you did not intend 
 any rudeness,' said the young lady, gently. 
 
 ' I hope not. Miss Hurt. I trust that I am 
 at least a gentleman. What annoys me, how- 
 ever, is that you, of all people, should have 
 supposed me capable of such misconduct. I 
 trust I am saying nothing " distasteful " in avow- 
 ing that your good opinion is of great conse- 
 quence to me.' 
 
 ' I can hai'dly understand how that can be,' 
 was the quiet reply ; ' since you never saw me 
 before yesterday, and we are only acquainted 
 with each other's names, Mr. Gresham.' 
 
 ' I cannot understand it either,' replied he, 
 quickly ; ' I only know it is so. Before I saw
 
 A TIFF. 71 
 
 you, heard you speak, or took your liand — for 
 these three events that to you, it seems, look so 
 trivial, are now epochs in my existence — I was 
 a waif and stray in the world. It mattered not 
 to me where I dwelt or whither I went. As it 
 happened, I was going to Paris and thence to 
 England, where I have that home and friends 
 which you tell me I do not sufficiently appreciate. 
 You are a little hard upon me there, for I Uke 
 my home and love my friends dearly; yet, I 
 will confess, that until yesterday I felt like a 
 ship without sails or anchor, drifting here and 
 there, as the A\dnd might blow. Now all that 
 is changed. I do not venture to hope that you 
 will beheve it ; but I cannot think I have done 
 wrong in telhng you the simple truth.' 
 
 ' I am sure you are speaking what you 
 beheve to be the truth, Mr. Gresham,' answered 
 the young girl, gravely ; ' but I am not sure that 
 you have not done wrong in telling it me. On 
 the other hand, I am quite certain that I should 
 do wrong to listen to you any fmther. I thank 
 you heartily for all your kindness to me ; but
 
 72 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 your words have put an end to our acquaintance. 
 1 am going below, and shall remain there till 
 we reach land. Good day, sir.' 
 
 And she rose from her seat, and held on to 
 the nearest rope, which had long become a 
 necessary precaution to all on deck who would 
 keep their footing. 
 
 ' Miss Hurt, you are surely not in earnest ! * 
 exqjaimed the young man. ' The punishment 
 you would thus inflict upon me for a venial 
 
 fault is oh ! you cannot guess what it is : 
 
 you are taking away my life blood.' 
 
 ' If it really seems so, Mr. Gresham,' 
 answered the girl, firmly, ' the discipline, harsh 
 as it may appear, is only the more necessary to 
 you. I am a friendless girl, and you are a 
 gentleman of fortune. The gulf between us — 
 since you compel me to speak of such a matter 
 — is deeper than any between yonder crested 
 waves. I depend upon your honour, and 
 because I am sure you would not do a cowardly 
 action, not to follow me.* 
 
 With steps so hasty that they did not permit
 
 A TIFF. 73 
 
 of his offering her any aid, and catching here 
 and there for support, at ropes and blocks, she 
 reached the cabin stairs in a few seconds, and 
 disappeared. 
 
 To say truth, this proceeding had required 
 of Ehse Hurt not only courage but self-denial. 
 In her own heart she did not think that there 
 was either wrong or danger in what Mr. Gresham 
 had said to her. She only felt tliat she ought 
 to think so. 
 
 Her bringing up had been of a prudent and 
 somewhat narrow kind — yet not on that account 
 less adapted to her circumstances, which were 
 narrow also. Her aunt, to whose sole care she 
 had been left from an early age, was a solid, 
 sensible woman — of which Germany has perhaps 
 a larger share than most nations — and she well 
 understood that her niece could not afford, as 
 girls more blessed with this world's goods might 
 do, to receive any kindness from strange gentle- 
 men that exceeded the limits of mere civil atten- 
 tion ; and m particular she had warned her 
 against hstening to the first words of flattery, or
 
 74 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 compliment, unless they were so light as to be 
 dispersed by a wholesome laugh. She had 
 taken care also to instil in Elise's mind a proper 
 understanding of her own position, out of which 
 it was very unlikely that she should be raised 
 by marriage, especially in England, where social 
 distinctions were so strongly marked. This 
 advice, winnowed by the machinery of her 
 dehcate nature from its more coarse and calcu- 
 lating fibres, Elise had laid to heart, and was 
 now profiting by. But, at the same time, it cost 
 her not a little to exchange the breezy deck, 
 with the comforts that Gresham's hand had 
 provided for her there, for the stifling saloon, 
 where no such pleasant companionship awaited 
 her. And his society had been very pleasant. 
 Most young ladies appreciate the attentions of 
 a well-bred, handsome young fellow, who, 
 naturally indolent, evidently puts himself out of 
 the way to give them pleasure ; his youth and 
 respectful ways are agreeable to them ; his 
 honeyed talk, if it is not insipid, is music to 
 them. And if this is so in the general case.
 
 A TIFF. 75 
 
 how much more grateful was such an acquaint- 
 ance to a friendless, almost penniless girl, quite 
 unaccustomed to be made much of, and who 
 had never listened to a comphment, neatly 
 turned, from the lips of any man ! She blamed 
 Mr. Gresham's folly for having put it out of her 
 power to enjoy his society any longer; but she 
 forgave him. It was very foohsh of him to 
 entertain such feelings as he had expressed to 
 her, of course ; but if he really did entertain 
 them, if, as he said, he had merely spoken the 
 simple truth to her out of the fulness of his 
 heart, she must needs pity him. But she pitied 
 herself also. 
 
 As for Mr. Gresham, left alone on tlie 
 slanting deck in undisputed possession of his 
 railway rug, he w^as furious with himself for 
 having kept no better guard upon his tongue. 
 Any one but himself, he argued, would have had 
 more sense than to insinuate, far less declare, 
 his passion for this simple, innocent girl, on so 
 short an acquaintance. He might well con- 
 gratulate himself that she had not taken liis
 
 76 UNDER ONE ROOF, 
 
 words as a positive insult ; that she had set him 
 down for the fool he was, instead of a scoundrel. 
 It had been the height of self-conceit in him to 
 take it for granted that the grateful acquiescence 
 with which this poor friendless girl had re- 
 ceived his attentions, was a reciprocation of his 
 own ardent feelings. What was there in a 
 great hulking fellow like him, that, almost at 
 first sight, a modest young woman should have 
 been ready to listen to liis protestations of love ? 
 — for what he had said to her, he admitted, was 
 nothing less. He had picked up her purse for 
 lier, it is true ; but in returning it to her he had 
 only shown that he was not a thief — certainly 
 not acquired the right to talk to her as a lover. 
 It was a sign he felt his mistake very seriously, 
 that he did not grumble to himself because he 
 had fores^one the delis^hts of Paris and the 
 pleasure of meeting Fred Mayne, his old college 
 friend, there, as had been agreed upon, all for 
 nothing — or for worse than nothing — as the 
 being snubbed by this young woman might well
 
 A TIFF. 
 
 77 
 
 be termed. Miss Elise Hurt was the exclusive 
 object of his reflections and regret. He re- 
 proached himself for having gone so far as he 
 had done with her, upon another account, also, 
 which for the present need not be mentioned, 
 especially as if he had succeeded in getting her 
 to listen to him, he would not have experienced 
 much remorse. Moreover, though that was a 
 small thing, in comparison with the main 
 distress and disappointment, he had deprived 
 himself by his ow^n folly of a charming com- 
 panion on the voyage. And such a voyage as 
 it was likely to be ! The packet, half laden with 
 cattle, was by no means the sort of craft which 
 Mr. Gresham was wont to patronise. He 
 always went by the best steamer and by the 
 shortest route. He was never sea-sick ; but he 
 did not like to be inconvenienced. And now 
 what had he let himself in for ? A voyage, at 
 the best, of uncertain duration, in a clumsy 
 vessel, labouring in a raging sea against a gale 
 from the south-west ; while at the worst —
 
 78 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 though, to do him justice, he was not one to 
 look on the black side of things— he might find 
 himself united with the object of his affections 
 — at the bottom of the Channel.
 
 79 
 
 CHAPTEE VI 
 
 DRIVING SHORE\VARD. 
 
 Greshmi was no sailor, and he was by no 
 means easily impressed with the sense of per- 
 sonal danger ; but as the gale increased he could 
 not avoid the suspicion that the ' Ehineland ' 
 was incompetent to fight against it, though 
 whether this arose from her build, or the 
 weakness of her engines, or the unfitness of her 
 crew, he was no judge. He only knew for 
 certain that she sank lower in the trough of the 
 sea, remained longer than she had at first in 
 those briny depths of the colour and opaqueness 
 of bottle glass, and rose to the surface no longer 
 buoyantly, but as it were with a dead lift. His 
 view of matters was essentially that of a 
 landsman, of course, yet it was clear that tilings
 
 8o UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 were not as they should be. For example, not- 
 withstanding his thick Ulster and the railway- 
 rug, he had now scarcely a dry thread on his 
 body, for wave after wave washed the deck, so 
 that it seemed at times to be under water. 
 Seated at the foot of a mast in almost the centre 
 of the vessel, he was in as level a spot as could 
 be attained ; yet his feet were as often as not 
 higher than his head, and only by gripping a 
 taut rope could he save himself at every lurch 
 from being swept with the outgoing waters 
 against the bulwarks. 
 
 There had been one or two male passengers 
 who, like himself, had preferred the rough usage 
 of the storm to the sights and sounds and smells 
 that were only too certain to be met with below 
 stairs ; but even these had sooner or later sought 
 the shelter of the cabin, save one individual, 
 with bright grey eyes and keen, weather-beaten 
 face, who now esconced himself close to 
 Gresham. 
 
 ' When there is war among the elements,' 
 he observed, with a strong American accent,
 
 DRIVING SHOREWARD. 8i 
 
 ' man and beast, fore-cabin and saloon pass- 
 enger, all herd together in presence of the 
 common danger.' 
 
 The idea of this individual from the second 
 cabin thinking it necessary to apologise for his 
 intrusion on a privileged locahty during what, 
 not only to Mr. Gresham's eyes, but in actual 
 fact had become little less than a hurricane, 
 tickled that gentleman's sense of humour. 
 
 ' You have been in a good many gales hke 
 this, no doubt ? ' said he, good-naturedly, and 
 also, perhaps, with a secret hope that his com- 
 panion might reply in the affirmative. 
 
 ' 1 have been in a good many gales, yes, sii\ 
 but not m one like this,' answered the other, 
 slowly. 'This is a most all-fired and cata- 
 wamptious tornado.' 
 
 ' Do you think the ship will hve through it ? 
 inquired Gresham, in as indifferent a tone as he 
 could assume. 
 
 ' I have not given my consideration, sir, to 
 that contingency,' was the reply, dehvered with 
 a most philosophic air ; ' I don't care two cents 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 about the ship, which, moreover, is doubtless 
 insured beyond her vake ; but if you ask my 
 opinion as to whether you and I will live 
 through this tornado — well, I give it you plump, 
 I don't think we shall. If I was on dry land, 
 and yet in possession of the facts concerning 
 our position, I would lay ten dollars to one 
 against any person on board this ship getting to 
 land alive.' 
 
 ' God bless my soul ! ' ejaculated Gresham, 
 half mechanically, half from the serious shock 
 of this communication. 
 
 ' Yes, that's just what it's come to,' answered 
 the other ; the coolness, not to say the cynicism, 
 of whose tone was greatly intensified by a 
 certain prominence in his left cheek which 
 looked as though he were putting his tongue in 
 it, but was really attributable to a plug of 
 tobacco. ' A man — if he's to be called a 
 man — knows how to take the last hard slap of 
 Fate ; the one with which she knocks you down 
 for good and all. But the women they mostly 
 take to hysterics. There will be sad scenes
 
 DRIVING SHOREWARD. Z^ 
 
 down there, I reckon,' and he pointed to the 
 cabin. ' It's time for them as has Prayer-books 
 to sport 'em.' 
 
 ' You are a seafaring man, of course, and I 
 am a landsman,' answered Gresham, gravely ; 
 ' else I had hoped that my ignorance of the 
 extent of our danger had magnified it. Why 
 is it you take such a gloomy view of our 
 position ? ' 
 
 'Well, the "Ehineland" is not A 1, and 
 few vessels even that are such could bear sucli 
 a bufieting as this for many hours ; the 
 " enjynes " don't work, in my opinion, as they 
 should do ; we're lower in the water than we 
 ought to be, and I guess there's water on board 
 below stairs. Moreover — but look yonder, and 
 judge for yourself. Om' captain would not 
 heave that ballast overboard unless he were in 
 great straits.' 
 
 Gresham's eye followed the dh'ection of his 
 companion's finger, and perceived that one side 
 of the cattle pen had been removed, and a 
 
 G 2
 
 84 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 corresponding portion of the ship's bulwarks 
 swung back upon its hinge, so that with every 
 roll of the ship to leeward many sheep and 
 oxen fell into the sea. It was a simple way 
 of unloading which the position of the ship, 
 now on one side, now on the other, alone could 
 have rendered possible. 
 
 ' There will be less meat for the English 
 markets,' observed Gresham, resolved not to be 
 outdone in coolness by the representative of 
 Cousin Jonathan. 
 
 ' There will be less mouths to eat it,' was 
 the quiet rejoinder. 
 
 ' Is it not possible to ^^ut back ? ' inquired 
 Gresham. 
 
 ' No. To steer one point out of the wind's 
 eye would be to write Finis.' 
 
 ' If the gale doesn't abate, in short, we are 
 dead men ? ' 
 
 'Is ay, things are not quite so bad ; if w^e 
 can hold our course tiU we are round the Land's 
 End we shall have the ^^and behind us. Then 
 we shall run, as if the devil were kickinfr us ;
 
 DRIVING SHOREWARD. 85 
 
 and if we are not pooped may find ourselves 
 in Bristol instead of Heaven.' 
 
 Though the stranger spoke as if quite 
 indifferent to the alternative, Gresham noticed 
 that his eye watched narrowly every event — 
 or mischance, for the words were now identical 
 — that took place on board : the breaking 
 loose of various articles that had been hitherto 
 secured to the deck ; the occasional crashinor 
 of the bulwarks; the lessening load of live 
 stock; the behaviour of the two men at the 
 wheel, and the gestures of the captain who, 
 despite wind and wave, stuck like a limpet to 
 his post upon the bridge between the paddle- 
 boxes. He understood from what his 
 companion said that if the ship were once in 
 the Bristol Channel there would be a better 
 chance for her, notwithstanding that she would 
 be exposed to dangers of another nature. 
 
 Matters had thus endiured for many hoiu-s, 
 when the calls of liunger necessitated Gresham's 
 descent into the saloon. 
 
 ' If you are going to the larder,' said his
 
 86 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 Transatlantic friend, ' put both meat and drink 
 in your pocket as I do ' — and he produced 
 a flask and a loaf — ' for you may need it.' 
 
 ' You mean if we have to take to the 
 boats ? But one of the sailors told me that 
 nothing but a lifeboat could float in such a sea 
 as this.' 
 
 ' Never mind what the sailors told you. 
 Do what I tell you. Depend upon it Providence 
 always takes the most care of those who never 
 throw away a chance.' 
 
 There seemed good sense, if not much 
 faith, in this advice ; and Gresham procured 
 certain supplies from the ship's steward ac- 
 cordingly. That functionary was very pale 
 and silent, and took the money without a trace 
 of his usual promptness on such occasions. 
 Although no sailor, he had been too many 
 voyages in the ' Ehineland ' not to know that 
 there was something greatly amiss with this 
 one. 
 
 The passengers in the saloon, too, were 
 silent ; uttering only a moan or a groan as the
 
 DRIVING SHOREWARD. 87 
 
 shock of a wave threw them from their 
 moorings on the sofas. Some of them had a 
 frightened look in their eyes, hke that of a 
 hunted creature who knows not whither to fly ; 
 but most had a stern, grave air. One or two 
 sat hand in hand with their wives, who were 
 weeping silently, but there were very few 
 women present. Gresham glanced into the 
 ladies' cabin as he passed by its open door, and 
 saw Elise Hurt sitting at the corner of the 
 sofa that ran round the room. Her calm, 
 quiet face presented a strange contrast to the 
 sorrowful and despairing looks of her com- 
 panions. 
 
 She rose, and, holding by the little pillars 
 of the cabin, made her way towards him. ' Are 
 matters really so bad, Mr. Gresham,' inquired 
 she, quietly, ' as they are thought to be down 
 here ? ' 
 
 ' They are very bad,' he said. 'Would you 
 prefer to come on deck? ' 
 
 ' K I shall not be in the way, I should,' 
 answered she, simply.
 
 88 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 The relations between them, it was under- 
 stood by both, had altered mth external 
 circumstances. In the presence of such sudden 
 destruction as threatened them, all prudery 
 disappeared ; face to face with death it seemed 
 impossible that love should again become the 
 topic of conversation. 
 
 'Put on eveiy shawl and wrap you possess,' 
 he gravely said ; and she obeyed him. 
 
 At the foot of the cabin stairs a lurch more 
 violent than usual shook the vessel, and Elise 
 would have fallen had not the young man clasped 
 her in his arms. 
 
 ' I think the ship has changed her course : 
 we are running before the -svind.' 
 
 They got on deck and reached their old 
 place of shelter with less of difficulty than 
 Gresham had met with in leaving it ; for what 
 he had suspected had, in fact, happened. The 
 vessel was now steaming — or rather scudding 
 — for the paddles were of little use — with the 
 gale behind her. The pitching and the 
 rolling of the ship had somewhat mitigated, and
 
 DRIVING SHOREWARD, 89. 
 
 lier stern was now receiving the giant blows 
 that had heretofore fallen on her bows. ISTeither 
 cattle nor sheep now remained on board, and 
 all things that had not been secured to the 
 deck, or formed part of it, had been swept 
 away. The Yankee had gone below ; and 
 besides the two men lashed to the wheel, the 
 captain on the bridge, and the sailors at the 
 pumps — which were kept constantly going — 
 the two young people were the only persons 
 who now braved the storm. 
 
 Not, however, that the condition of those in 
 the saloon or cabins was much better ; for 
 every seam, through the straining of the ship, 
 had begun to leak, and the berths were half full 
 of water. 
 
 ' Sit here, EHse,' said Gresham, without the 
 least consciousness of having addressed her by 
 her Christian name ; ' and do not turn your 
 head, or look behind you.' 
 
 Being a woman — or perhaps it would be 
 fairer to say, being human — Miss Hurt im- 
 mediately looked behind her — to behold a
 
 90 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 sublime spectacle ! The sea seemed to be 
 pursuing the ship with open mouth, with the 
 literal intention of swallowing her ! Huge 
 mountains of dark green water, fringed with 
 flying foam, were rushing at headlong speed 
 after their trembling prey. It was a chase 
 wherein the odds against the hunted thing 
 were as a thousand to one ; for strength and 
 life were failing it. The ' Ehineland ' flew with 
 amazing speed, but no longer of her own 
 volition. 
 
 There was a certain light to starboard, by 
 which it was attempted to steer obliquely, but 
 the ship scarcely answered to her helm at all ; 
 though this, as it happened, was of small 
 importance, for the light was a floating one — 
 the ' Hope ' lightship — which the gale had 
 driven from her moorings, two miles nearer 
 shore. A little canvas with extreme peril had 
 been spread in the forepart of the ship, when 
 she changed her course, to keep her head 
 straight, but this had instantly been split to 
 ribbons. It was plain to the most inexperienced
 
 DRIVING SHOREWARD. 91 
 
 eye that the labouriDg and groaning vessel was 
 almost in extremis. 
 
 Suddenly a tremendous sea broke over the 
 bow, sweeping everything, including even the 
 boats, to the afterpart of the deck, lifting the 
 very starboard anchor on to the forecastle, and 
 washing one of the steersmen from the wheel. 
 
 That Elise Hurt and Gresham did not share 
 his fate was solely owing to the protection of 
 the mast behind which they were screened. 
 For the moment it seemed that all was over. 
 The steamer, indeed, could no longer be so 
 entitled, for its engines had stopped, the inun- 
 dation having put the fires out ; nor henceforth 
 could the ' Ehineland ' be termed a vessel — it 
 was a mere log, at the mercy of the winds and 
 waves. Still it floated. Gresham's arm en- 
 circled Ehse, and drew her closer to him : ' Be 
 of good courage,' he said ; ' I see the land.' 
 
 For the first time, indeed, the land had 
 become dimly visible by the occasional light 
 afforded by the moon when uneclipsed by the 
 clouds that raced across her. A long black
 
 92 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 line of coast — high and rocky — showed itself 
 on the northern horizon. There were more 
 people now on deck — the watch below among 
 them — ^who had been driven from their quarters 
 by the inroad of the waves. Despair and 
 irresolution reigned among them, but not in 
 every case. 
 
 ' Load the gun ! ' roared the captain. 
 
 All the boats were badly damaged, some 
 having been broken to pieces, and in any case 
 no boat could have been lowered in such a sea. 
 The only chance of rescue was from the land ; 
 and it was high time to tell, if haply there 
 should be ears to listen to them, in what 
 miserable straits they stood. The powder, amid 
 such confusion, was not easily procured, and the 
 operation of loading was still more difficult. 
 But somehow or other it was efTected. Then 
 the roar of minute-gun after minute-gun mixed 
 wdth the artillery of the gale. Every thud of 
 the cannon sounded like a knell to these poor 
 wretches ; till suddenly the hearts of all were 
 lighted up by the sight of a thin light to south-
 
 DRIVING SHOREWARD. 93 
 
 ward. The consciousness of their peril had 
 been at last conveyed to their fellow-creatures 
 on shore, and had been thus acknowledged! 
 The hght was that of the beacon that the men 
 of the coastguard had lit upon the quay at Hal- 
 combe Point.
 
 94 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 ox THE REEF. 
 
 As to the locality in which the 'Ehinelaud' 
 was situated, the captain himself had only an 
 approximate idea of it, while the majority of 
 the passengers only knew that they were in the 
 Bristol Channel. 
 
 The American, whose name was Pearce, 
 and who preferred, as it afterwards appeared, 
 to be called 'Commodore,' being appealed to 
 (by reason of his knowing looks) upon this 
 subject, grimly replied that he did not know in 
 what portion of the Channel they were, but 
 that in his opinion the question would soon be 
 solved ; the expression he used Avas, ' I guess it 
 won't be long before we're at the bottom of it. 
 To do him justice, he only gave this answer to
 
 ON THE REEF. 95 
 
 the men ; to the "svomen he always expressed 
 himself hopefully. He said that there was a 
 mighty difference between being dro^vned and 
 having the starch taken out of their collars 
 — which had happened to the poor creatures 
 already. It was known, of course, by this time, 
 to himself and every seaman on board, that the 
 ship was driving on shore, and that the question 
 of safety for every soul on board depended on 
 what sort of shore it was. 
 
 While he was making this very observation 
 in Gresham's ear the ship suddenly struck with 
 tremendous violence, though against no visible 
 object, and like a dreadful echo a shriek of 
 horror burst from every part of the ship. Many 
 of those still below^ were killed at once by their 
 heads being dashed against the sides, and even 
 the roof of the cabin ; many on deck were flung 
 into the sea. It was the very crisis of horror 
 and despair. 
 
 ' To the foretop for your lives ! ' exclaimed 
 Pearce to the two young people. 
 
 ' Go, Mr. Gresham, go ! ' cried Elise ; ' you
 
 96 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 have already done your best for me. I cannot 
 climb the shrouds.' 
 
 'It is probable you never tried,' observed 
 the American, drily. Gresham's only reply 
 was to lift her in his arms, and, aided by Pearce 
 and her own exertions, they managed to make 
 their way through the terrified crowd to the 
 forecastle ; the crew had already fled there, and 
 were running up the rigging in swarms. The 
 top was occupied at once by as many as it 
 would hold. With the help of the two men, 
 however, Eli'se climbed to the very foot of it 
 and out of the reach of the waves that now 
 swept the ship from stem to stern. 
 
 ' There is a woman here,' said Gresham to 
 those above ; ' is there not a man among you 
 who will give up his place ? ' 
 
 There was no answer, except from the 
 American from below. ' ISFo, they won't, I bet. 
 They will never oblige a lady even by so much 
 as a seat in a car. You are better where you 
 are, Miss,' he added in a lower tone, ' if your 
 young man will only lash you to the rigging.'
 
 ON THE REEF. 97 
 
 For this purpose Gresham had nothing but 
 a handkerchief, supplemented by the strength 
 of his own arms. 
 
 ' I can hold you on till dayliglit, EHse,' he 
 whispered, ' and longer ; while I have life I 
 will keep life in you.' 
 
 ' Next to God, I trust in you,' answered 
 she, simply. It was fortunate that she had 
 more than one friend ; for, thougli every inch 
 above them was occupied by clinging hmbs, 
 the wretched people below endeavoured to 
 make their way up, and even to climb over 
 their very bodies. The horrors of their situa- 
 tion, rocked by every blow of the sea, and 
 drenched with its spray, were aggravated by the 
 pitiful cries which burst from those around 
 them. From the broken skylight above the 
 cabin miserable groans still issued, and now and 
 then a sharp shriek of agony : ' My child, my 
 little one is drowned ! ' was one of them, which 
 went to Elise's heart. For the most part they 
 were cries wrung by necessity from human 
 throats, but now and then there was an ejacula- 
 
 VOL. I. • H
 
 98 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 tion of frenzied terror. For instance, a young 
 fellow immediately below the American sud- 
 denly exclaimed that the ship was breaking to 
 pieces. 
 
 ' Let her break,' answered the Yankee, con- 
 temptuously ; ' yoii^ll keep whole enough, I'll 
 warrant.' 
 
 It was curious to observe what an effect 
 this one man's coolness and quaint good sense 
 had upon those around him, notwithstanding 
 the peril and misery of their position. That 
 they were on a rock, and a hidden one, was all 
 of which the best informed Avere conscious. 
 The force of the wave that had just thrown 
 them upon it had been such as to carry the 
 whole vessel on to the reef; otherwise, had 
 part only been driven on to it, and part left on 
 a lower level exposed [to the breach of the sea, 
 the ship would have been torn asunder in a 
 few minutes. Thanks to the lowness of the 
 tide, the masts and rigging stood out of water, 
 and were only washed to any height by some 
 exceptionally huge wave ; but in the mean time
 
 ON THE REEF. 99 
 
 it was only too plain that the ship's timbers 
 were giving way under the reiterated blows of 
 the sea. The wind was as keen as it was furious, 
 and the cold soon began to tell upon these poor 
 creatures, many of whom had rushed from 
 below but scantily clad. Only a few women 
 besides Elise Hurt had obtained a footing on 
 the shrouds at all, and one by one, overcome 
 by fatigue and fear, these relaxed their hold of 
 the ropes, and Avere whirled away into the 
 raging deep, as often as not in silence. The 
 two men bade Elise shut her eyes, under pre- 
 tence of her thus obtaining a httle rest, but in 
 reality to prevent her witnessing these distress- 
 ing scenes. More than once, however, a man 
 came tumbling down from the foretop or the 
 shrouds more immediately above them, and 
 that so close as to imperil her own safety in his 
 descent into his watery tomb. The cold had 
 benumbed the hands of these poor fellows, and 
 they had become too weak from exhaustion 
 and hunger to retain their positions. 
 
 And here it was that the forethought of the 
 
 H 2
 
 loo UNDER ONE ROOF, 
 
 American stood Gresliam and his companion 
 in good stead. Not only did the young fellow 
 insist upon her partaking of the viands with 
 which he had filled his pockets, but also ad- 
 ministered, under Mr. Pearce's directions, an 
 amount of brandy which, in other circum- 
 stances, would have had a most unpleasant 
 effect upon any young lady's organisation. 
 
 ' " The blood is the life," says the Scripture,' 
 were Mr. Pearce's words ; ' and the brandy is 
 the blood upon this occasion, — you needn't be 
 afraid of taking too much, ma'am.' 
 
 Elise, though very unwillingly, being as 
 temperate as all German maidens are, took 
 what was given her : which, after all, was not 
 so very much, for what with the swaying of the 
 mast, and the numbness of Gresham's hands, 
 much of the liquor missed the mouth it was 
 aimed at. Nor was it only the young man's 
 hands that were numb, for his feet had become 
 like marble ; and in compliance with his 
 request, Elise more than once had to stamp 
 upon them to restore their circulation. That
 
 aV THE REEF. :ioi 
 
 she herself was exempt from this inconvenience 
 of course proved the care that the other took 
 of her, in which it must be acknowledged that 
 he was greatly assisted by Lir. Pearce. 
 
 It was strange to see how during those 
 weary hours these three were drawn together 
 — almost as much mentally as physically — by 
 the circumstances of that supreme occasion. 
 Each spoke to the others of himself and of his 
 private afiairs, with a frankness and confidence 
 that he could not have used after six weeks 
 of ordinary intercourse. 
 
 ' If you get to land, Mr. Gresham,' said Elise, 
 ' send a few words of tender farewell for me to 
 my good aunt ; ' and she gave him her address 
 witli methodical exactness. 
 
 ' If I live, Ehse, you will live,' returned the 
 young fellow, simply. ' It would be no self- 
 sacrifice to perish in trying to save you, since 
 life without you would not be worth having.' 
 
 He spoke with earnestness a swell as fervour, 
 and was quite unconscious of any extravagance 
 of expression. In such sublime moments the
 
 I02 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 emotions become, as it were, condensed. His 
 whole previous existence appeared divided into 
 two parts : during one part, he had known EUse 
 Hurt ; during the other, he had not known 
 her. And the former part monopoHsed his 
 thoughts. 
 
 ' Do not talk so,' answered the girl, reprov- 
 ingly ; ' for in my case there is but one person 
 to mourn me ; and my good aunt, I am thank- 
 ful to think, has others to love her. But you 
 — you yourself told me that you have dear 
 friends and relatives " 
 
 ' One relative — a very kind one,' interrupted 
 the young fellow ; ' and some dear friends 
 certainly.' 
 
 He hesitated a moment ; should he tell her 
 something he had in his mind, or should he 
 not? The waves were beating against the 
 doomed vessel more frantically, it seemed, than 
 ever. The tide was rising. No, it was not 
 worth while. ' You, Ehse, are more than all 
 to me,' he added, simply. 
 
 Presently Gresliam, turning to the American,
 
 ON THE REEF. 103 
 
 begged him to send the girl's message to her 
 aunt, in case he should be the sole survivor of 
 the three. 
 
 'Oh, yes,' he answered ; 'and do you two 
 remember, for my sake, the address of Henry 
 Pearce, at the " Figure Head " Hotel, Charing 
 Cross.' 
 
 Gresham smiled sadly ; for, small as either 
 of their chances of life were, his chance — bound 
 up as it was with that of the girl — was surely 
 the smaller 
 
 ' That is your brother, I suppose ? ' he 
 answered. 
 
 ' No, sir ; it is myself,' rephed the other, 
 coolly. ' The " Figure Head " is always my 
 address in London city, in case you should 
 want a skipper for a yacht. My friends call 
 me Commodore. I've got my certificates ' 
 
 Here a great wave filled his mouth with 
 salt water, and blinded all three of them with 
 its spray. Two more wretched creatures were 
 thrown from their hold by the shock of it, and 
 were carried away in its whirl. These had
 
 I04 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 occupied positions above ' the tops,' and were 
 worn out with hunger as much as fatigue ; 
 those, on the other hand, in Gresham's vicinity, 
 had been supphed, at EUse's entreaty, with the 
 remainder of his provisions. 
 
 ' It is no use keeping them for me, love,' 
 she had whispered ; ' for death will come to 
 me before hunger returns.' 
 
 Her logic was unanswerable ; it was plain 
 that the vessel could now only hold together 
 for a very short time. 
 
 Presently ' The dawn, the dawn ! ' she 
 moaned in German. 
 
 ' What is it ? ' inquired the American, 
 anxiously. ' Her strength is failing. Give her 
 more brandy.' 
 
 Before Gresham could explain, some one 
 cried out, ' The land, the land ! ' And in a 
 moment the coast line became distinct against 
 the sky. 
 
 ' Great Heaven ! It is Halcombe Point,' 
 exclaimed Gresham. 
 
 ' It , is something to know your bearings,'
 
 ON THE REEF. 105 
 
 observed the American. 'What sort of land- 
 ing do you give to strangers hereabouts ? * 
 
 'It is a rock-bound shore,' answered 
 Gresham, gravely. ' The ship must be on the 
 Lancet Eeef,' he murmured. ' There are 
 people on the pier. Sir Eobert ' 
 
 ' " Sir Eobert," and " Halcombe," ' ejaculated 
 EUse. ' Is it Sir Eobert Arden of Halcombe 
 Hall of whom you speak ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, dearest ; do you know anything of 
 him?' 
 
 ' It was to his house I was going as gover- 
 ness.' 
 
 'And I am his nephew,' said Gresham. 
 The coincidence, strange as it was, did not strike 
 him so forcibly as might be expected ; those 
 words of his companion, 'I was going,' speaking 
 of herself in the past tense, had saddened him 
 too much to admit of wonder. 
 
 ' Hold on all ! ' cried the American, in a 
 sharp clear voice. ' I see a boat coming — a 
 hfeboat.' 
 
 It was well that he liad given his warning
 
 io6 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 before he gave his news ; for the excitement 
 which his good tidings communicated to the 
 poor wretches about him passed the bounds of 
 reason. Even as it was, it was with difficulty 
 that some could be persuaded not to cast them- 
 selves into the sea to meet the coming succour. 
 What an apt term is that of Lifeboat! 
 How nobly does the god-child prove its right 
 to the name that has been given to it ! What 
 an ark of safety does it appear to those for 
 whom the depths of ocean rage and roar — 
 thanks to it — in vain ! In no other visible 
 form do Human Endeavour and Divine Inten- 
 tion combine so sublimely. Consider, too, the 
 comparative humiUty — nay, to all appearance, 
 the inadequacy — of the means of salvation. 
 The ' Commodore's ' keen eyes and technical 
 knowledge had at once caused him to recognise 
 the nature of the help that was approaching 
 them ; but to the ordinary observer it looked 
 scarcely help at all, but merely more of wreck 
 and ruin. Was it possible that that frail un- 
 decked boat, now tossed on the foam of some
 
 ON THE REEF. 107 
 
 mighty wave, now lost in the trough of the sea, 
 not urged by its rowers at all, but flying before 
 the fury of the gale, could be Eescue — Life ? 
 To those on shore it seemed so at all events ; 
 for though the sound of their cheering could 
 not reach the ears for which they were intended, 
 the poor shipwrecked creatures could see flags 
 waving from the little pier and from the win- 
 dows of the mill in token of joyful sympathy. 
 Notwithstanding their evil phght this moral 
 support — the sympathy of their fellow-creatures 
 — ^had an inspiring efiect ; they felt, as it were, 
 that the great heart of humanity was beating 
 high for them. They were not cut ofi", these 
 things seemed to assure them, from the sun- 
 shine yet.
 
 io8 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 A KECOGNITIOiY. 
 
 John Dyneley had not spared Sir Eobert's 
 bay mare upon his way to Archester ; it was 
 not his way to push a wilHng horse to the full 
 extent of its powers, but human life was in the 
 balance that night, and he had not spared the 
 spur. He was a heavy man for so speedy a 
 journey ; but his weight had this advantage, that 
 it steadied the gallant bay, against whom such 
 a wind was blowing, broadside on, as had never 
 swept Halcombe Moor within the memory of 
 man. The Curate, however, paid little heed to 
 the gale ; he was recalling to his inward gaze 
 the bright look of approval that had lit up Evy 
 Nicoll's face when he had asked her step-father 
 for the use of his mare ; that would have been
 
 A RECOGXITION. 109 
 
 reward enough, if he had needed any, for the 
 discomforts of his ride, of which in truth he 
 recked but httle. He was a man to whom wind 
 and rain, and heat and cold, were indifferent, 
 a man of thcAvs and sinews, as well as of girth 
 and inches, and with a great heart in his great 
 body. His intelhgence was not remarkable ; 
 but he had plenty of common sense, which, 
 however inconvenient to a theologian, is to a 
 working clergyman the most valuable of all 
 senses. And yet at this moment he was doing 
 a very foohsh thing ; for what could be more 
 contrary to common sense than to cherish so 
 tenderly that last look of Evelyn Nicoll, whom 
 he knew to be as good as engaged to another 
 man? 
 
 Common report had given her to Sir 
 Eobert's nephew, George Gresham ; and, while 
 she had taken no pains to contradict it, her 
 mother had, by implication, corroborated it. 
 Indeed, it was understood that George was 
 shortly expected at the Hall, for the very pur- 
 pose of making himself better known to his
 
 no UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 bride before the knot should be tied between 
 them. 
 
 Still, as Evelyn had never with her own 
 lips confirmed the general opinion, the Curate 
 gave himself the benefit (as he fondly imagined 
 it to be) of the doubt, and persuaded himself 
 that he was doing no harm in thus secretly 
 worshipping his idol. 
 
 He was far too modest a man to suppose 
 that his passion was returned ; he was not half 
 rich enough for her, he knew, nor half good 
 enough for her, he thought — though in that 
 last idea, in my judgment, he was mistaken — 
 and she was altogether, he confessed, out of his 
 reach. If he did entertain a hope that he should 
 ever win her, it was one of the very vaguest 
 kind ; but now and then he could not avoid 
 giving himself up to it. In his saner moments 
 he foresaw that he must be content with hon- 
 ouring and admiring her as the wife of another, 
 and would think himself happy if, under such 
 circumstances, the opportunity might be afibrded 
 him of doing her some self-sacrificing service.
 
 A RECOGNITION. in 
 
 Such men there are in this nineteenth cen- 
 tury, by contract with whose natures all that 
 has been recorded of the so-called ' Ages of 
 Chivalry' grows pale and dim. One other 
 mistress he had who was not denied to him — 
 Work, and his devotion to her was incessant. 
 Some fools thought less of his labour in the 
 Lord's Vineyard because he went about it as 
 often as not with a short pipe in his mouth ; he 
 was labouring in it now (or words have lost 
 their meaning) ; and though his pipe, by reason 
 of the gale, was an impossibihty, his attire was 
 far from what is generally associated with the 
 ecclesiastical calling. He wore a dark pea- 
 jacket, with waistcoat and trousers of the same 
 thick material ; and his black cravat was knotted 
 instead of being tied in the orthodox way. 
 
 Thus he rode at the bay's best speed along 
 the sandy roads, making occasional short cuts 
 (not free from rabbit holes) across the heathery 
 moor, till the lights of Archester gleamed before 
 him. 
 
 Without drawing rein for an instant he
 
 112 UNDER ONE ROOF, 
 
 galloped clown the stony street to the little pier, 
 which he knew on such a night would have 
 its complement of seafaring men, watching their 
 old enemy the storm, and in a few words 
 explained his errand. 
 
 ' A ship on the Lancet, opposite Halcombe 
 Point, and the lifeboat wanted ; ten pounds a 
 head from Sir Eobert to each man that pulls 
 an oar in her.' 
 
 It would doubtless have ' looked better in 
 print ' had he appealed only to these brave 
 men's sense of duty ; and it would have been 
 sufficient, for the mariners of Archester w^ere 
 never backward in risking limb and life for 
 their fellow-creatures ; but, on the principle of 
 ' surplusage being no error,' the Curate ad- 
 dressed them as we have described. Moreover, 
 it saved time, and time — a few minutes more or 
 less — was of immense importance to all those 
 upon the cruel reef (which, however, had thus 
 far been the cause of their preservation). 
 Time had become, indeed, the alternative of 
 Eternity with them.
 
 A RECOGNITION. 113 
 
 A rush was at once made for the boat-shed, 
 where the cork jackets and all other things 
 were kept ; and in an incredibly short space of 
 time eight men were ready for this perilous 
 enterprise. There are two things which ex- 
 pedite human action above all other motive 
 powers ; namely, the opposing elements of Fire 
 and Water. The celerity with which a fire 
 engine is got ready and started is the greatest 
 triumph of human forethought and agility. 
 Next to that is the quickness with which a life- 
 boat is got under weigh. From the shed at 
 Archester were two ' slips,' one on either side, 
 so that the boat could be launched to north or 
 south, according to the quarter from which the 
 w^ind was blowing ; the men were in their 
 places, and a score of eager pairs of hands were 
 on her stern and sides ready to run the ' Swift- 
 sure ' (contraction of Swift and Sure, I wonder?) 
 off the truck on which she stood, when the 
 coxswain suddenly roared, ' Stop ! ' 
 
 There was a man missing ; only seven 
 being in the boat besides the coxswain. From 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 the list of the crew hard by (for everything was 
 at hand in that place) he began to read out the 
 names of those absent ; ' George Pariitt P ' 
 
 ' Here,' answered a ready voice. 
 
 ' You are not George.' 
 
 . ' No ; he is ill a-bed, but I am his brother.' 
 
 ' A bold fellow, no doubt ; but hardly 
 strong enough for the tight job before us. 
 ' Henry Absolon.' 
 
 ' Gone to Mir ton,' was the reply. 
 
 ' Hullo, sir, tills is quite irregular.' This to 
 Dyneley, who had slipped on a cork jacket and 
 sou'w^ester cap, and jumped into the boat. 
 
 ' No matter, coxswain ; I am as strong as 
 any of you, and can pull as good an oar. 
 There is not a moment to lose, I tell you — - 
 push off.' 
 
 There was a burst of cheering, which, how- 
 ever, in no way impeded the exertions of those 
 who thus indulged their feelings, for at the 
 same moment the boat began rapidly to move 
 down the slope. 
 
 ' Steady, steady ! ' The moment she touched
 
 A RECOGNITION. 115 
 
 the sea it seemed to every man that he Avas 
 under water. Xever since the gallant ' Swift- 
 sm'e ' had been built had slie put out in the teeth 
 of such a storm ; the wind beat almost dead 
 against the land, and strove with frantic screams 
 and fiendish fmy (the Prince of the Powers of 
 the air being in command that night in person) 
 to dash the boat back on the rocky shore. 
 ' She never, never,' shrieked the frantic blast, 
 ' shall ride the main this night to rob the 
 hungry waves of their human prey.' 
 
 Thrice the ' Swiftsure ' was cast a score of 
 yards up the strand, then ^nthdrawn like a 
 playtliing which a child throws from it only to 
 pursue and clutch again ; but the fomth time 
 the oar-blades and the strong arms that use them 
 are phed to such good purpose that she is Hung 
 back no more. 
 
 ' Steady, men, steady ! ' cries the coxswain, 
 for rowing against a moving mountain range 
 renders time more difficult to keep than between 
 Barnes and Putney ; ' once round the Point the 
 ■\nnd will do our work for us.'
 
 ii6 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 This was satisfactory so far as it went, but 
 made it clear to every man (if he had not known 
 it before) that the retm*n to Archester against 
 the wind would be a physical impossibility. 
 After performing their perilous mission, should 
 that be practicable, they would have to go on 
 to Mirton Harbour (twenty miles away) if they 
 should reach harbour at all, since to try Hal- 
 combe Point would be to go to pieces. 
 
 Such things are trifles to the heroes who 
 man our lifeboats, and we ashore think still less 
 of them ; but supposing even the case of a 
 country doctor robbed of his night's rest by a 
 summons to a sick bed, and compelled to 
 ride twenty miles in a storm which did not 
 admit of his return, we should call it a hard 
 one ; add to this utmost fatigue of body and 
 extreme peril of life, and give the laurel where 
 it is due. 
 
 Once round the Point, the * Swiftsure ' flew 
 before the wind, as though, instead of being a 
 bare boat, she were a racing cutter. She was 
 following, in fact, the very route of the ' Ehine-
 
 A RECOGXITION. 117 
 
 land,' only the sea had a very different customer 
 to deal with. The waves filled her again and 
 again, but her escape pipes freed her from the 
 deluge as quickly as it was poured in ; they 
 threw her on her side, but she made light of 
 that, and even had they thrown her over slie 
 would have righted again in half a second — 
 though, unhappily, empty. 
 
 Thus hurried along at headlong speed, it 
 was no wonder that, in a shorter time than it 
 had taken the mare and her rider to cross the 
 moor, the one man in the boat to whom the use 
 of his eyes was not denied — for the eight rowers, 
 we may be sure, cast no look behind them — 
 exclaimed, ' There she is, boys ! ' 
 
 And there she was ; half of her — the stern 
 part — now covered by the rising waves, and the 
 other half, now hid, now seen, with a bare mast 
 sticking out of it, covered with human beings, 
 like bees in swarm. The sea was rimning like 
 a mill race, and the sharp reef beneath it. 
 
 ' I doubt if we can get nigh her,' ejaculated 
 the coxswain.
 
 ii8 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 ' There are women on board,' observed 
 Number Six, wlio was the Curate. 
 
 ' Never fear, Master Dyneley, but we'll do 
 what man can do to save 'em,' was the reply, 
 not without a certain haughtiness in its tone. 
 The waves and winds could be discounted, as 
 it were, as a source of peril ; but whether there 
 was water enough above the rock to float the 
 lifeboat to leeward of the wreck, Avas an experi- 
 ment not to be reckoned upon, but only tried. 
 If they shot by her, it was plain they could not 
 put back again in the teeth of such a gale, ere 
 the flowing tide should engulf the last spar of 
 the 'Ehineland.' 
 
 ' Steady ; be ready to ship oars and out with 
 the grappling irons.' The next minute they 
 were under her quarter, and liad made fast 
 to it. 
 
 ' The women first ! ' cried the coxswain in a 
 voice of thunder. There were but three women 
 left, and none of these could move across the 
 rocking deck without men to help them. The 
 first two were carried, rather than led, and
 
 A RECOGNITION. 119 
 
 lifted into the ' Swiftsure ; ' the third, EHse, 
 used her own hmbs, though stiiBT and cramped, 
 upheld on either side by the American and 
 Gresham. 
 
 All sat where they were placed, without a 
 word, as though astounded (as they well might 
 be) at their own deliverance. The wreck was 
 clear of all save one man, who clung to the 
 mast apparently stupefied. 
 
 ' Quick, quick ! ' exclaimed half-a-dozen 
 voices. He never moved. 
 
 ' Are we all to be drowned for one fool ? ' 
 ejaculated the coxswain, passionately. ' Cast 
 off, boys.' 
 
 ' One moment, sirree,' cried the clear 
 shrill voice of the American. He leapt back 
 on to the wreck, seized the still hesitating man 
 round the waist, and fairly threw him among 
 the rest. 
 
 ' It's the poor cap'en, coxen ; he don't hke 
 to leave his ship,' said he, apologetically. ' I've 
 felt the same myself — especially when I've had 
 a share in her.'
 
 I20 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 As the boat once more flew before the wind 
 its occupants could see a Httle group upon the 
 quay of Ilalcombe, whose joy appeared only 
 second to then' own. These persons, of course, 
 knew not how many of the crew had succumbed 
 to the waves, or to the fatigues and privations 
 of the niglit ; they only saw that every soul 
 upon the wreck had been taken off, and ivere 
 in comparative safety. They were w^ell aware 
 that on their cruel shore no boat could land in 
 such a sea, but to many of the poor shivering 
 creatures on board the ' Swiftsure ' it seemed 
 strange enough that they should be turning 
 their backs on these hospitable and friendly 
 people. 
 
 Gresham, of course, knew why they didn't 
 land at the Point, and secretly he was not dis- 
 pleased that the attempt could not be made. 
 He recognised female forms upon the quay, and 
 guessed, rightly enough, their identity ; and he 
 had e^ood — or at least sufficient — reason to con- 
 gratulate himself that the ' Swiftsure ' was 
 makinsf for Mirton. He was now turning over
 
 A RECOGNITION. 121 
 
 in his mind whether it would not be better to 
 wait a day or two before presenting himself to 
 his friends at home, and to let it be imagined 
 that he had not taken passage in the ill-fated 
 ' Ehineland ' at all. 
 
 The accommodation on board lifeboats is in 
 extent considerable, but it is not of a select or 
 private character. Eescued folks settle down 
 where they can, and are seldom found to com- 
 plain of their quarters. The craft is broad of 
 beam, and there is room for passengers, even 
 in the very centre of it, without interfering with 
 the rowers. Here sat Ehse Hurt, exhausted 
 but grateful, with the same loving arms sup- 
 porting her that had made her hold secure upon 
 the shrouds. 
 
 ' I owe my life to you,' were the first words 
 she murmured in his ear. 
 
 ' Nay, darling ; the Commodore, as he calls 
 himself ' (he had once commanded, as it turned 
 out, a certain flotilla of trading vessels to the 
 West Indies) ' did his part ; it was he, for ex- 
 ample, who called my attention to the victualling
 
 122 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 department — I liave still a little brandy left, by 
 the bye.' 
 
 ' Not for me,' she said, putting aside the 
 flask ; ' I feel I shall live now. Is it not strange, 
 George, that wet and cold as I am, in this open 
 boat, and with only a plank between us and 
 death, I am happier than I have ever been ? ' 
 
 ' It is not strange,' answered the young man 
 tenderly. ' It is because you love.' 
 
 ' Ah, yes ! ' she sighed. 
 
 ' Why do you sigh, darling ? ' 
 
 ' Because this may be the last hour in which 
 I may say, " I love." Out yonder — with the 
 waves yearning for us, I told you the secrets of 
 my heart ; there seemed no harm in it, and it 
 was very sweet to tell them. But now we are 
 no longer two fellow-creatures awaiting the 
 same doom ; I am again a penniless girl, and 
 you — you are Sir Eobert Arden's nephew.' 
 
 ' Well, and what then ? ' said Gresham, 
 lightly ; but there was a look of trouble in his 
 face that accorded ill with his jesting tone. 
 
 ' I know not what then,' she answered.
 
 A RECOGNITION. 123 
 
 ' Yoli know best bow it will fare with us. But 
 I have always heard that the rich Enghsh are 
 very proud. There will be a gulf fixed between 
 you, Sir Eobert's nephew, and me, the gover- 
 ness of his children. 
 
 ' They are not his children,' replied 
 Gresham ; ' they are the children of his wife by 
 her first marriage.' 
 
 ' Indeed ? Then you are his own kith and 
 kin, and they are not. His very heir, 
 perhaps ? ' 
 
 ' Perhaps ; though I never thought of that. 
 When one has a benefactor so kind as he has 
 been, one does not speculate upon his death.' 
 
 ' I hope not, dear. Pray do not be annoyed 
 
 with me ' for there had been a certain 
 
 irritation in his tone ; ' I only wish to loolv 
 matters in the face. As it seems to me you 
 are bound, above all things, to obey this good 
 uncle's wishes ; and especially never to act 
 counter to them. Is it likely, think you, that 
 he will wish you to marry me ? ' 
 
 • My dear Ehse, I thouo-ht that those who
 
 124 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 love were given to buildiDg dream-castles for 
 love to live in ; whereas you build only obsta- 
 cles to love. It will be surely time enough to 
 combat opposition when it has arisen. There 
 will, of course, be objections to our union — 
 some even that have not entered into your ap- 
 prehensions ; but we must trust to time and 
 happy chance. My uncle is very pecuHar : a 
 man of impulse and sentiment ; by no means 
 the liard, conventional man of the world you 
 liave probably pictured to yourself. But, no 
 doubt, we must be prudent. It will not be 
 necessary to tell the good folks at Halcombe 
 all that we have said to one another. Nor 
 even need you repeat the conviction you ex- 
 pressed just now that I was the happy means of 
 saving your life last night ; it is an exaggera- 
 tion to start with, and to proclaim such a fact 
 would be very injudicious. People would 
 think that gratitude might cause you to over- 
 rate my deserts — do you understand, darling ? ' 
 ' I do not like concealments,' answered Elise, 
 gravely. ' Besides, to dwell under the same
 
 A RECOGNITION. 125 
 
 roof with you, and never to be able to speak to 
 you, nor look towards you, as I sliould wish to 
 speak and look — no, Mr, Gresham ; I could 
 not do it.' 
 
 'What? You call me "Mr. Gresham" 
 because you have no longer need of my loving- 
 service ? That is ungenerous, Ehse.' 
 
 ' You do not think so — you cannot think 
 so,' answered the girl, impetuously ; ' it gives 
 me ten times the pain to address a cold word 
 to you than it gives you to hear it. But it is 
 better to say " Farewell " now — cruel as it seems 
 to part — than later on.' 
 
 ' We will never part, EUse ; I swear it.' 
 
 ' Hush, hush ! ' for in his vehemence he had 
 raised his voice, so that if those next to him 
 had not been sunk in their own thoughts they 
 might have heard him, despite the roar of the 
 wind and the rush of the wave. ' God has been 
 very good to us ; do not call Him to witness to 
 aught that does not he in the path of duty. I 
 fear — I fear that your love for me runs counter 
 to it.'
 
 126 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 ' Do not fear, Elise,' he answered, gravely ; 
 ' Love and Duty can never be in opposition to 
 one another. Only, as I have said, we must 
 expect obstacles. The course of true love 
 never does run smooth, you know.' 
 
 Elise Avas silenced, if not convinced ; it was 
 difficult, no doubt, to compel herself to picture 
 mischances, not only to her own happiness, but 
 to that of her preservei\ 
 
 Presently they came in site of IMirton, a 
 picturesque village, built in zig-zag up steep 
 cliffs ; but with a good harbour and break- 
 water. Once within shelter of the latter the 
 mountain waves lost their crests, the gale 
 thundered harmless above their heads. With 
 a few more strokes of the oar they reached the 
 side of the little jetty wdiere a few men were 
 gathered together in the grey dawn. 
 
 Gresham and the Commodore assisted Elise 
 to land, and were escorting her up the winding 
 street to the little inn, when they were over- 
 taken by one of the crew, who seemed about 
 to address them.
 
 A RECOGNITION 127 
 
 ' I will see you in five minutes, my good 
 fellow,' said Gresham. ' For the brave work 
 you and your mates have done this night, no 
 
 reward can be sufficient, but What ! 
 
 Dyneley ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, it is I,' answered the Curate, removing 
 his sou'-wester. ' I could scarcely beheve my 
 eyes when I saw you step into the boat ; and 
 when I felt sure of your identity I had no 
 breath for even a word of recognition.' 
 
 Then Gresham remembered that the features 
 of this man had seemed somewhat familiar to 
 him ; he had had other things to think about, 
 or else there had been plenty of opportunities 
 of observing him, for he had sat cheek-by- 
 jowl with 'Number Six' for the last two 
 hours.
 
 128 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 MR. WALCOT VENTURES A SUGGESTION. 
 
 So unexpected was the presence of the Eev. 
 John Dyneley, that for the moment Gresham 
 forgot the strangeness of his guise, and even the 
 obligation which lie owed to him in common 
 with the rest of the gallant crew of the 
 ' Swiftsure ; ' the thought that was monopolising 
 his mind was, 'Does he guess the relation 
 between Ehse and myself ? ' 
 
 He had said he could scarcely believe his eyes 
 when he saw Gresham, and, knowing what he 
 knew as respected Evelyn, it would have been 
 even more difficult, if he had overheard his talk 
 in the lifeboat, to have believed his ears. 
 
 There had been something in the Curate's 
 tone which had struck him he addressed as
 
 MR. WALCOT VENTURES A SUGGESTION. 129 
 
 smacking of reproof as well as astonishment ; 
 but that might have been but the sting of con- 
 science. Whether lie knew all, or not, how- 
 ever, any lingering idea Gresham might have 
 entertained of ignoring under his uncle's roof 
 all previous acquaintance mth Ehse, even if he 
 could have persuaded her to join in such 
 deception, was now become out of the question. 
 There was nothing left for him but to assume a 
 bold front. 
 
 'This is Miss Ehse Hurt, Djneley ; the 
 young lady Lady Arden was expecting from 
 Germany, and who, I am thankful to say, will 
 reach her journey's end after all ; thanks to 
 ycu and the rest. — Miss Hurt, I demand an 
 amount of confidence in me that almost reaches 
 to credidity, when I ask you to believe that 
 this gentleman in a dustman's hat and a cork 
 jacket is a Britisli divine.' 
 
 Ehse held out her little hand wilh a quick 
 flush. ' How brave you are, sir ! how good 
 you have been to us ! ' said she, simply. ' I shall 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 I30 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 think more highly than ever of God's ministers 
 since you are one of them.' 
 
 ' I am glad to have been of use,' said the 
 Curate, blushing too ; for he could not bear 
 anybody's praise. ' But as for my own share in 
 last night's work, I had no choice in the matter ; 
 for the crew could not be made up without me.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' exclaimed the Commodore ; ' that's 
 what looks well in a man. One always likes a 
 fellow who sits down at euchre merely to oblige. 
 I've noticed they're generally good players, 
 those. And you pull a good oar, sir — there 
 was no better in the boat, except the stroke's. 
 Let me shake your hand, sir.' 
 
 The Curate, of course, shook hands ; but it 
 was evident the Yankee puzzled him. 
 
 ' This is Commodore Pearce, of the United 
 States,' explained Gresham ; ' Avithout whose in- 
 telligence and assistance neither this young lady 
 nor myself would, I honestly believe, be alive 
 at this moment. I hope I shall persuade him 
 to pass a few days at Halcombe, where I am 
 sure that he will find a hearty welcome.'
 
 MR. WALCOT VENTURES A SUGGESTION. 131 
 
 ' Thank you^ Mr. Gresham, but my time is 
 limited. So soon as I have got my clothes dry, 
 and have had a snatch of sleep at this /i<?tel, 
 I'm off for London.' 
 
 This was a relief to Gresham, though he 
 was ashamed of himself at finding it to be so. 
 However successful he might be in imposing 
 silence concerning recent events upon Ehse, it 
 would have been quite impossible, he felt, to 
 keep Mr. Pearce's mouth shut, who, unaware 
 of the shortness of the two young people's 
 acquaintance with one another, had taken it for 
 gTanted, from the first, that they were an 
 engaged couple. 
 
 ' You will allow me, at all events, Mr. Pearce, 
 to be your banker,' said Gresham. ' I am well 
 known here.' 
 
 'Thank you, sir,' interrupted the Com- 
 modore, ' but I have given nothing to the fishes, 
 except my kit — and that won't clothe the 
 Le^dathan. My money is safe in my breast 
 pocket ; and I've got tobacco for a week's con- 
 sumption, though it's a trifle damp.' 
 K 2
 
 132 UNDER ONE ROOF, 
 
 They had now reached the ' Golden Lion,' the 
 hostess of which had been ah-eady informed 
 of the arrival of her involuntary guests, and had 
 partly attired herself to welcome them. It 
 was arranged that Miss Hurt sliould be left in 
 her charge till a carriage could be sent for her 
 from the Hall ; and after some refreshment for 
 the inner man, and dry clothes for the outer, 
 lent him by the landlord, Gresham took his 
 leave of the Commodore mth many expressions 
 of goodwill on either side. 
 
 ' If I'm in England, sirree, mind, I come 
 down to your wedding,' were the Commodore's 
 last words ; which, delivered as they were in 
 Dyneley's presence, turned Gresham scarlet. 
 Then the two young men stepped into a dog- 
 cart, — for the gale was still strong enough to 
 -have turned any closed vehicle that the ' Golden 
 Lion ' could offer them topsy-turvey, — and set 
 •out for Halcombe. 
 
 It was a satisfaction to Gresham that the 
 presence of the ostler close behind them pre- 
 cluded any conversation of a private nature ;
 
 MR. WALCOT VENTURES A SUGGESTION. 133 
 
 but as a matter of fact the Curate was tlie last 
 man to have asked his companion for any 
 explanations. He had certainly observed the 
 familiarity that existed between Gresham and 
 Elise, and had even caught some fragments of 
 their conversation in the lifeboat. But his 
 nature was too unsuspicious to jump to the right 
 conclusion from such scanty premises. The 
 Commodore's parting words had rather dis- 
 sipated, than confirmed, any suspicions he might 
 have entertained ; for he took it for granted 
 that they alluded to Gresham 's marriage with 
 Evelyn. Had he guessed the truth, it might 
 be imagined that he would have gladly wel- 
 comed such evidence of his rival's lack of love 
 for Evelyn ; but so loyal was his nature, that 
 he would on the contrary have found in it a 
 cause of quarrel with Gresham for his traitor- 
 ous conduct. Even as it was, Gresham 's 
 behaviour had excited his displeasure ; though 
 his sense of justice compelled him to make 
 allowances for his young friend, placed as he 
 had been in such an exceptional position with
 
 134 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 respect to his fair companion. Perhaps there 
 was nothing that made John Dyneley so ill- 
 understood as this gift of charity, as rare with 
 the common-place Pious, wrapped up in the 
 salvation of their own souls, as with the children 
 of this World. Moreover, John Dyneley was 
 a gentleman, and he did not feel justified in 
 hauling a fellow-creature over the coals without 
 adequate warrant. 
 
 From all which it arose that there was little 
 conversation between the two occupants of the 
 front seat of the dog-cart ; and what there was 
 confined itself to details of the wreck and the 
 rescue. 
 
 Unwilling to disturb the tenants of the Hall 
 from their slumbers after their long night of 
 watching, the Curate invited Gresham to break- 
 fast with him at his lodgings at the Manor 
 Farm. Here they aroused the young farmer, 
 Gilbert Holm himself, from his first sleep ; for 
 he had remained with some of the men at the 
 Point till they had not only seen the lifeboat 
 carry off the tenants of the ' Khineland,' but
 
 MR. WALCOT VENTURES A SUGGESTION. 135 
 
 beheld the remains of that unfortunate vessel 
 go to pieces, which happened in about an hour 
 after the rescue. He described the distress and 
 agitation of the young ladies as having been 
 very great ; but they had restrained their tears, 
 he said, until the safety of all on board had 
 been assured, and when, as it seemed to him, 
 ' there was no sort of occasion for 'em.' 
 
 ' Ah, Gilbert, you don't know the nature of 
 women ! ' said Gresham, jestingly. 
 
 'Perhaps not, sir,' answered the farmer, 
 drily ; ' but I know the nature of one of them 
 as I'm talking about enough to be sartin' sure 
 that she would a'most ha' cried her pretty eyes 
 out, had she been aware as a certain person was 
 on board that craft last night ; and I daresay 
 Mr. Dyneley here could give a name to her.' 
 
 ' Well, of course, they would all have been 
 greatly more distressed,' said the Curate, 
 evasively, ' had they been aware that Mr. 
 George was among the wrecked.' 
 
 It was merely common civility in Dyneley 
 to ask his nominal host (for Holm w^as only
 
 136 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 Sir Eobert's tenant) to breakfast Avitli them, 
 considering that he had been disturbed by his 
 visitors at so untimely an hour ; so the three 
 men partook of their meal together. 
 
 There was httle talk, however, among 
 them, for the young farmer's allusion to the 
 supposed engagement between Evelyn and 
 Gresham had annoyed the latter. He thought 
 it familiar and impertinent, though perhaps he 
 would not have done so had he not chanced to 
 have been thrown, during the last three days, 
 into the companionship of Miss Elise Hurt. 
 
 • There's to be a new arrival at the Hall to- 
 day, sir, as I understand,' observed Holm, 
 addressiucf the Curate. Gresham felt growing^ 
 red and white by turns ; he felt sure that this 
 insolent clodhopper — with whom, however, he 
 had heretofore been on the familiar terms that 
 are usual between men in their relative positions 
 in a place like Halcombe — was about to speak 
 of Elise herself. 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' said the Curate. ' Who may 
 that be P '
 
 MR, WALCOT VENTURES A SUGGEST 10.^. 137 
 
 ' Well, the young ladies are going to have a 
 new maid. John is going to take the gig over 
 to Arch ester this afternoon to meet her/ 
 
 Gresham uttered a little sigh of relief; it 
 was plain that this man had not heard of the 
 expected arrival of the governess. 
 
 ' I hope John will have less wind against 
 liim than I had last night,' said the Curate, 
 ' or he will need some ballast on his voyage 
 out.' 
 
 ' Ah, to be sure, you must ha' been well 
 bio wed about,' observed the farmer. ' Perhaps 
 a little drop of the right stuff would do you no 
 harm this morning.' And he produced from 
 his cupboard — the fire had been lit for them in 
 the kitchen, as being at that early hour most 
 convenient — a bottle of brandy. 
 
 ' Xo, thank you,' said Dyneley ; ' I never 
 touch such a thing in the morning.' 
 
 ' Xor I,' said Gresham, curtly. 
 
 ' Well then, gentlemen, I'll just drink to the 
 health of both of you.' And he helped himself 
 to a full oflass.
 
 138 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 Though still very early, it was agreed that 
 Gresham should now go to the Hall to relieve 
 the fears of its tenants as to Miss Hurt's safety, 
 and the Curate accompanied him as far as the 
 garden gate. 
 
 ' There was one person, Dyneley, I did not 
 ask you about when we were in the dog-cart 
 together, because of the ears so close behind us. 
 Ferdinand Walcot is here, of course, and as 
 much master as ever ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; even more so, I think, than when you 
 left us.' 
 
 'I call it a downright infatuation in my 
 uncle,' exclaimed the other, with irritation. 
 
 ' Well, I confess I don't share Sir Eobert's 
 predilection for his brother-in-law,' answered 
 the Curate, smiling ; ' but I suppose we are 
 what your uncle calls antipathetic — in plain 
 English, I don't like Mr. Walcot, and he don't 
 like me.' 
 
 ' Of course not. I had hoped that you 
 might have opened my uncle's eyes ; you are
 
 MR. WALCOT VENTURES A SUGGESTION. 139 
 
 the only man who could do so without the 
 suspicion of having any interest in the matter.' 
 
 ' Nay, I have nothing to say against the 
 man. It is only a question with me of '• I do 
 not like thee, Doctor Fell ! " and I cannot 
 suppose that Sir Eobert w^ould espouse my 
 prejudices. When I did once venture to say 
 that I thought Walcot took too much upon 
 himself in the way of parish ajBTairs, your uncle 
 was obviously annoyed. He said that I 
 httle knew Ferdinand Walcot ; everybody who 
 did so must revere him. "As for myself," he 
 added, " there is a sacred tie between us which 
 nothing but death will sever." ' 
 
 'A sacred fiddlestick,' observed Gresham, 
 contemptuously. Then, after a pause, ' Who is 
 that yonder, going over the hill ? ' 
 
 ' It is Gilbert Holm. He is bound for the 
 shore, I reckon, to see if there is any flotsam 
 or jetsam from the wreck. He had much 
 better trust to his farm for liis profits than to 
 such waifs and strays.'
 
 I40 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 'Ay, he's another of Walcot's proteges^ is 
 he not ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know about that,' said the Curate, 
 ' but Walcot has great influence over him, as he 
 lias over every one else ; and I wish lie would 
 use it to persuade liim to give up taking brandy 
 of a morning. — I shall see you again in an 
 hour or two, no doubt, Gresham. Good 
 morning.' 
 
 The tone of the Curate w^as cordial — much 
 more so, had Gresham been aware of his feelings 
 tow^ards Evelyn, than liis companion had any 
 right to expect ; for what is more calculated to 
 raise the spleen than to suspect the object of 
 our own affections to be held but lightly in 
 those of our successful rival ? Even as it was, 
 Gresham acknowledged to himself what a 
 Avorthy, modest, and high-souled fellow Dyneley 
 was, and how incapable of a baseness. This 
 last reflection was, perhaps, suggested by a 
 prick of conscience, for Gresham did not in his 
 heart approve of that pohcy of silence — not to 
 say deception — which he had chalked out for
 
 MR. WALCOT VENTURES A SUGGESTION. 141 
 
 himself in the future as respected Ehse. He 
 was by nature, as his uncle had called him. 
 frank. The story Mr. Walcot had narrated 
 respecting liis behaviour at the Hombm-g 
 gaming-table had been, to say the least of it, 
 distorted to his disadvantage ; he was too im- 
 pulsive for duplicity, though a certain weak- 
 ness of character might, as in the present case, 
 suggest concealment. 
 
 Nor must it be supposed that George 
 Gresham had in his advances to Elise acted 
 disloyally towards Evelyn. Xot only had he 
 not broken troth — for troth had never been 
 plighted between them — but he had done her 
 no tacit ^\Tong ; there was no mutual under- 
 standing between them whatever, such as lovers 
 use, and though they had been drifting towards 
 Matrimony, it was without aid of sail or oar, 
 and merely from the wind and tide of circum- 
 stances. They were both aware that marriage 
 was expected of them by others, and they had 
 not actively opposed themselves to the pressure 
 from "svithout ; but that was all. Gresham was
 
 142 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 not aware that Evelyn had ever stated ' I am 
 not engaged,' but he knew that she did not 
 acknowledge an engagement. Nor had she 
 once given him, during all the years they had 
 known one another, such looks or words as 
 Elise had bestowed upon him within the last 
 few hours. He felt less self-reproach in fact as 
 respected her than as respected others — such as 
 his uncle and her mother, since with these he 
 was undoubtedly about to play, if not falsely, a 
 false part. 
 
 The adults of the Hall party were already 
 downstairs, despite the earliness of the hour, 
 eager to hear the news from Mirton, and their 
 astonishment was great indeed at finding it was 
 Gresham who had brought it. 
 
 ' What, you here? ' ' George ! ' ' Good 
 Heavens ! ' and ' This is unexpected, indeed' — 
 the last and less enthusiastic greeting being 
 Mr. Ferdinand Walcot's. 
 
 The ladies kissed him, of course. Lady 
 Arden with a stately affection, befitting a 
 mother-in-law in posse^ as well as a step-aunt
 
 MR. WALCOT VENTURES A SUGGESTION. 143 
 
 in esse ; Milly with lively effusion ; and Evelyn, 
 not as some young ladies kiss ' tall Irisli cousins 
 whom they love in a sisterly way,' but with a 
 certain gentle decorum for which he could have 
 hugged her — it so convinced him that she didn't 
 care twopence about him. 
 
 ' And is the poor girl safe ? ' were her first 
 words. 
 
 ' Quite safe ; I left her in Mrs. Marvell's 
 hands at the " Golden Lion." ' 
 
 ' You left her? Why how did you know 
 who she was ? ' inquired Lady Arden. 
 
 ' I — oh — well,' stammered Gresham, ' we 
 became acquainted on the voyage, you know ; 
 it was not like an ordinary passage, you must 
 remember.' 
 
 ' Lideed it was not,' sighed Evelyn. ' Shall 
 I ever forget last night, and that wave-swept 
 wreck with the poor creatures clinging to it ! ' 
 
 ' Yes,' cried Milly ; ' and yet we did not 
 know that you were there, George. Fancy 
 what our feelings would have been had we 
 been aware of that ! '
 
 144 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 ' You are very good,' said Gresliam, with a 
 bow. 
 
 ' It is too liorrible to jest about, George,' ex- 
 claimed Sir Eobert, reproviugly. 'I saw two 
 poor souls swept into the sea with my own 
 eyes.' 
 
 ' Yes, indeed, sir, there were more than that. 
 There were many drowned, but three women 
 saved in alL' Then he proceeded to tell them 
 certain details with which we are more or less 
 acquainted, to whicli they listened with eager 
 horror. 
 
 'But how came you to come by the 
 " Ehineland " at all, George ? ' inquired Lady 
 Arden ; ' they tell me it was a cattle ship.' 
 
 ' Y"es, why on earth did you do that ? ' said 
 Sir Eobert. 
 
 ' Xo doubt from motives of economy,' 
 observed Mr. Walcot, with a dry smile. 
 
 ' Well, no ; it was not exactly that, I must 
 confess,' said Gresham, conscious of a flaming 
 cheek ; ' but being in Eotterdam when the 
 vessel was about to start, a sudden impulse took
 
 MR, WALCOT VENTURES A SUGGESTION. 145 
 
 me. It was not right, because I had promised 
 to meet Mayiie in Paris, but no one can say 
 that my perjury went unpunished. I nearly 
 lost my life — I did lose every rag belonging to 
 me. I am indebted to Mr. Mar veil for the 
 very things I stand up in. They are not 
 fashionable, I know, nor a good fit, but it was 
 something to get into dry clothes of any kind 
 after such a soaking.' 
 
 ' Then poor Miss Hurt must have lost every- 
 thing too,' observed Evelyn. 
 
 ' Very true, Evy,' exclaimed the Baronet. 
 ' You ladies must make contributions from your 
 wardrobes.' 
 
 ' Is she my size, or Evelyn's, or mamma's P ' 
 inquired Milly, roguishly. 
 
 ' WeU, really,' stammered Gresham 
 
 ' He is blushing ! ' cried Milly, clapping her 
 hands. 
 
 ' I don't see that there could be any harm in 
 your remarking whether she was short or tall,^ 
 observed Lady Arden, stiffly. 
 
 ' Certainly not,' continued Milly ; ' and 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 since she ii:as so communicative, it seems, she 
 may have told him Avhat sized gloves she uses, 
 and from that data we could judge every- 
 thing.' 
 
 ' Be quiet, Milly ! ' exclaimed her mother, re - 
 provingly. ' Let George speak for himself.' 
 
 ' Well, I tliinlz this young lady is about 
 Milly's size,' replied Gresham, with an air of 
 reflection ; ' rather shorter, if anything. I told 
 her, by the bye, that 3'ou would send some con- 
 veyance for her.' 
 
 ' Quite right,' said Lady Arden ; ' the 
 carriage shall go at once. And Jennings shall 
 go in it with a change of clothes for her.' 
 
 ' That is just like your thoughtfulness. Lady 
 Arden,' observed Mr. Walcot ; ' but if I might 
 venture a suggestion, don't you think that, 
 under the circumstances, if Miss Evelyn herself 
 would not mind the trouble ' 
 
 'The very tiling I was thinking myself,' 
 interrupted Sir Eobert. ' The poor girl would 
 take it so kindly.' 
 
 ' Oh, indeed ! ' exclaimed Gresham, hastily ;
 
 MR. WALCOT VENTURES A SUGGESTION. 147 
 
 ' there is no occasion for that. I am sure she 
 would be quite distressed at such a thing.' 
 
 'Still, if Miss Evelyn doesn't mind the 
 trouble,' repeated Walcot. 
 
 'There is no trouble in the matter,' 
 observed that young lady, quietly ; ' and, indeed, 
 without wishing to rob Mr. Walcot of the credit 
 due to his forethought, I had made up my mind 
 to go for Miss Hurt before he spoke.' 
 
 If anything could have been a solace to 
 Gresham under such circumstances — for the 
 plan about to be carried into effect was, as may 
 be well imagined, to the last degree distasteful 
 to him — it was the curtness of tone in whicli 
 Evelyn addressed those words to Mr. Ferdinand 
 Walcot. She was the only inhabitant of the 
 Hall who was able to ' snub ' Sir Eobert's 
 brother-in-law, or who had the courage to 
 attempt it. His being thus ' set down ' was, 
 however, but scanty satisfaction to Gresham as 
 compared with his apprehensions of the dan- 
 gerous results of Walcot's officiousness; If 
 he had only' had the courage to tell Elise of 
 L 2
 
 148 UXDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 the ^^(a.5^- engagement existing between himself 
 and Evelyn, it wonld have pnt her on her 
 guard ; but — now — what damaging admissions 
 mio'ht she not make durino- that tete-a-tete — 
 what questions might not Evelyn put to her in 
 all ixood faith, and without the least idea that 
 they were ' leading ' ones ! Moreover, the sug- 
 gestion of Evelyn's going to meet the girl was 
 greatly more distasteful to him from its having 
 proceeded from Walcot. Did the man already 
 suspect something ? It was more than possible, 
 for his attitude towards him, in Gresham's view, 
 was always one of sus])icion ; he was certain in 
 his own mind that Ferdinand Walcot was a tale- 
 bearer and an eaves-dropper ; and that the 
 knowledge thus basely acquired had been 
 already used to his prejudice with his uncle. 
 Suppose that tliis cur, who was also a sleuth- 
 hound, had already smelt out that there 'was 
 something — something wrong, as he would be 
 sure to term it — between Elise and him !
 
 149 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE YOUNG PEOPLE. 
 
 We have described the owner of Halcombe 
 Hall, and also hmi who was practically the 
 master of it ; but we have given them pre- 
 cedence only on the time-hallowed principle of 
 'Seniores priores.' There was one other in- 
 dividual under that roof, quite as masterful by 
 nature as Mr. Walcot himself, and who was 
 looked up to by the whole family with a 
 reverence accorded to neither of his two rivals. 
 This personage was Baba Mcoll (aged 4), 
 commonly called, half in irony, half in tribute 
 to his social position, the Great Baba. The 
 origin of this name, save that it was begotten of 
 Love and Euphony, was lost, at the time we
 
 I50 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 make acquaintance with liim, in tlie mists of 
 antiquity. It was certainly not given him by 
 his godfather and godmother, who had in fact 
 named him ' Gerald.' Perhaps he was termed 
 Baba, after the Great Mosful called Babo ; and 
 the ' o ' had become * a ' by one of those etymo- 
 logical processes so famihar to commentators ; 
 but, if so, he was a far greater potentate than 
 liis prototype. His dominions, indeed, were 
 limited, being bounded on the north, on the 
 south, on the east, and on the west, by the walls 
 of his home ; but within that region he was 
 despotic. Nay, like the Czar of Eussia, he 
 might be said to be an object of worship. A 
 prophet we are told is held in small account in 
 his own country ; but the Great Baba, who was 
 oracular upon matters present only (and even 
 on those never distinct), was held at home in a 
 reverence not paid to prophets anywhere, even 
 after the fulfilment of thek vaticinations. 
 Abroad, too, he was thought highly of; ladies 
 and even ancient gentlemen were wont to stop 
 him in London streets, or at the seaside, when
 
 THE YOUNG PEOPLE. 151 
 
 he went fortli in state in his perambulator, to 
 do him homage ; they did not, as in the case of 
 the Holy Pontiff, kiss his toe — for, indeed, that 
 member was not easily approachable, being 
 encased, first in a shoe and stocking of extreme 
 diminutiveness, and finally in a gaiter of Shet- 
 land wool — but they kissed what they could, 
 and invoked the blessings of Providence upon 
 his sacred person. He was wont neither to 
 approve nor disapprove of these manifestations 
 of public approval ; but would ' stare right on 
 "s\ith calm eternal eyes,' on some distant object 
 of nature — especially if a dog or a donkey 
 presented itself on the horizon. A philosophic 
 calm was his usual characteristic ; but there 
 were chords in his nature, which, being 
 struck, immediately roused him to enthusiasm. 
 The sight of Punch's show had quite a galvanic 
 effect upon him ; a soldier — such was his par- 
 ticularity, tliat although he had probably never 
 so much as heard of the Amazons, he called him 
 ' a soldier-man ' — aroused in him an ardour 
 which it is inadequate to describe as martial ;
 
 1-52 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 wliile a monkey on an organ caused him such 
 agitation of mind as (although evidently plea- 
 surable) gave nervous admirers some appre- 
 hension for his precious life. 
 
 That he considered himself by very far the 
 most important personage on this terrestrial 
 planet is certain (and no wonder), and we are 
 also inclined to believe that (in spite of appear- 
 ances) he also deemed himself the first even in 
 chronological order. It was his imperial humour 
 to conceive himself the sole repository of inform- 
 ation, and he imparted it in infinitesimal quan- 
 tities, to the world at large, and with the air of 
 a teacher. When a horse passed him, he would 
 observe to his attendants, ' Gee-gee,' with a 
 wave of his small hand, as though to impress 
 it upon their attention. 'I have named that 
 quadruped, you observe ' (he seemed to say), 
 ' and mind you don't forget it.' He w^as equally 
 at home with Science as Avith Nature, and, on 
 once meeting with a steam-roller in London, 
 remarked, ' Puff, pufiV in a precisely similar 
 manner. Although he did not speak, as other
 
 THE YOUNG PEOPLE. 153 
 
 sovereigns do, in the first person pliural, he was 
 far from using the ordinary style. He would 
 say, 'Baba ^vill have this and that,' and if it 
 was to be attained by any means within the 
 reach of his loving subjects, Bab a got it. Like 
 the Persian monarch who flogged the seas and 
 razed the hills, Baba was indignant with Nature 
 herself if his inclinations were thwarted. He 
 was once found, to the f^reat alarm of His 
 Majesty's household, upon a chair, upon wliich, 
 finding it near the window, he had climbed, 
 unassisted, in order to reach v/hat he called 
 ' That wound yed ball,' which was the sun — it 
 being an exceptionally foggy day for Halcombe. 
 Upon being informed that this feat was impos- 
 sible, on account of the height at which that 
 luminary is placed above us, he expressed a 
 passionate discontent with that arrangement ; 
 and I am sorry to add even with its Author, 
 the Great Architect of the Universe. His views 
 of the Creator, indeed, though tempered with a 
 certain tender awe which was extremely touch- 
 ing, were what High Church divines would con-
 
 154 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 sider familiar. Having been told that God lives 
 above us, he for some time regarded the attics 
 with mystic reverence, and approached them, 
 when carried up thither, with caution. He 
 once remarked that the Supreme Being did not 
 live alone ' up yonder,' but ' along with the 
 joke.' 
 
 ' Good gracious ! ' cried his mother, seriously 
 shocked — though his innocent tone and broken 
 accents did in fact rob all remarks that dropped 
 from his baby mouth of their irreverence — 
 ' what can the child mean ? ' 
 
 Upon cross-examination of the nurse it 
 appeared that she had once observed in Baba's 
 hearing that ' she could not see the joke ; ' and 
 since he had been told that ' we cannot see God,' 
 he had combined his information, and, quite 
 unwittingly, thus associated the Sublime with 
 the Eidiculous. 
 
 An infant of such simplicity, and with such 
 original views, would have been popular even 
 among philosophers ; it may be imagined there- 
 fore with what reverence he was regarded by
 
 THE YOUNG PEOPLE. 155 
 
 liis motlier aud sisters. We liave said, by the 
 way, that Evelyn was the only person at Hal- 
 combe Hall who at times opposed herself to 
 Mr. Ferdinand Walcot ; let us hasten to repair 
 that error : the Great Baba detested him, and 
 was accustomed to tell Jiim so in broken 
 language, but still sufficiently distinct. ' Oo 
 are a nasty back ugly man, and I won't kiss 
 you,' a veto that had almost the force of an 
 Excommunication. Mr. ^Yalcot would smile in 
 the tenderest manner at him, and assure him 
 that he could not mean what he said ; but the 
 other would answer, ' Baba means it ver}' much,' 
 and intrench himself against his caresses behind 
 the nearest chair. 
 
 Then poor Mr. Walcot, adopting the plan 
 he had seen others use to mitigate his elfin 
 wrath, would pretend to cr}^, and say, ' Oh, see 
 how I am hurt by your unkindness ; ' to which 
 his duodecimo enemy would reply, ' Baba sees, 
 but doesn't care.' Then Mr. Walcot would try 
 another tack, and, imitating the child's cross 
 looks and pouting lips, would mimic contempt-
 
 156 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 uously, 'What does Mr. Walcot look like 
 now ? ' 
 
 ' He ook like a gate big donkey,' would be 
 the crushing rejoinder. 
 
 Upon the whole, however unwilling to im- 
 pute duplicity to a man of such force of cha- 
 racter, we doubt whether Mr. Ferdinand Walcot 
 was quite so fond of the Great Baba as he pre- 
 tended to be. 
 
 But all the rest of the household loved him, 
 and none better than his brother Frank. ' The 
 boy that loves a baby ' has always good in him, 
 and generally some rare kind of good. Frank 
 was ingenuous and affectionate, but very sensi- 
 tive, and though ' sharp enough,' as every one 
 allowed, his imaginative powers were greatly in 
 excess of his intelligence ; he was passionate — 
 and though his passion lasted but for a minute, 
 and his gentleness filled up the huge interval — 
 this fact was dwelt upon by his detractors. Of 
 these, however, he had not many ; and, if it had 
 not been for the greater claims on their devotion, 
 advanced and somewhat insisted upon by the
 
 THE YOUXG PEOPLE, 157 
 
 Great Baba, his family would have adored him. 
 There had been as yet but one shadow upon 
 liis briglit young life. The incident which had 
 produced it was curious, and even absurd, but 
 the effect had been somewhat serious. Late in 
 the preceding autumn Master Frank had ridden 
 over on his pony to pay a visit to a young friend 
 at his mother's house — a few miles from Arch- 
 ester. He had stopped later than Avas prudent, 
 and Lady Arden had been greatly alarmed 
 when darkness fell, and the child — for he was 
 then but eight — did not present himself His 
 pony was a quiet one, and he had ridden it 
 daily for some months ; still there was, of 
 course, the danger of his having been thrown. 
 Moreover, though he knew his way over the 
 moor quite well, he did not know it, as the 
 Curate did, blindfold ; and the night was dark. 
 He did turn up about nine o'clock, but in a very 
 strange condition; his mind seemed to have 
 become unhinged ; he talked so strangely at first 
 they thought that his friend might have been 
 so imprudent as to have given the lad a o-lass
 
 138 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 of cherry brandy before he set out. And yet 
 his behaviour was not that of one intoxicated. 
 The doctor, who was sent for, pronounced that 
 he had received some shock to his system. He 
 might have been pitched off his pony, on his 
 head, he thought, and then got on again uncon- 
 sciously. 
 
 His story, told in a boyish disconnected way, 
 but one which never wavered as to the facts, 
 was this. He had started after dusk, but had 
 no difficulty in keeping to the sand road, nor 
 felt any apprehension in his own mind as to 
 reaching^ home. He did not like the darkness 
 that was falling about him — he never did like 
 being in the dark — but on this occasion he 
 protested that he had not felt afraid. Suddenly, 
 as he reached the spot where the road iDranched 
 to Mirton, he came upon this spectacle : a giant 
 moving slowly through the mist, upon six legs. 
 Of course the pony was firightened, and started 
 off at such speed that he was wholly unable to 
 restrain him, but he was not one half so fright- 
 ened as his rider. At the mere narration of
 
 THE YOUNG PEOPLE. 159 
 
 wliat lie liacl seen, indeed, the blood fled from 
 the boy's delicate cheek, and his voice shook 
 with horror. 
 
 ' I saw it,' he asserted solemnly, 'as plainly 
 as I see you, mamma ; the creature was as tall 
 as one tall man pick-a-back on another, and 
 had six legs ; the two in the middle thinner 
 than the two outside.' 
 
 To this legend he had clung with sucli 
 tenacity that no arguments could shake his con- 
 viction ; and he had become in some sort a 
 martyr to his faith. If there w^as one thing Sir 
 Eobert was slow to forgive, it was a falsehood ; 
 and there could unhappily be no doubt that the 
 giant with six legs could not have truth for his 
 foundation. There was, indeed, an apparent 
 absence of motive for such a monstrous fiction, 
 but this had been supphed by a mind fertile in 
 imputing motives. 
 
 ' I do not take the severe view of Frank's 
 peccadilloes that you do, Arden,' Mr. Walcot 
 had said, when privately consulted on the 
 matter by his brother-in-law ; ' but, on the
 
 i6o UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 other hand, I see a quite sufficient reason for 
 his having invented the story. The lad knevy 
 that he had transgressed his mother's commands 
 by remaining with his young friend so late ; 
 and his object was to substitute sympathy for 
 reproof. He felt, if he could persuade us he 
 had been desperately frightened, that that 
 would be considered punishment enough ; and 
 having a strong imagination, and a mind stored 
 with histories of Jack the Giant Killer, and 
 similar worthies, he evoked a giant out of his 
 own consciousness. He has been too long in 
 the nursery, and ought to be sent to school.' 
 
 ' He is so delicate, and gets on so well with 
 his lessons at home, I am told,' answered Sir 
 Kobert, dubiously. 
 
 ' I know Lady Arden is opposed to his leav- 
 ing home and " roughing it " in any way,' 
 observed Mr. Walcot, quietly ; ' but, as you 
 were saying, a habit of falsehood must be 
 eradicated at any sacrifice.' 
 
 ' Did I say that ? I had no idea of having 
 done so; but I was certainly thinking some-
 
 THE YOUNG PEOPLE. i6i 
 
 thing of the kind. How unconsciously thought 
 weds itself with speech I How strange is our 
 mental mechanism ! ' 
 
 ' I am afraid Frank's story was not j)ut 
 together in that unconscious manner,' said 
 Walcot, smiling. 
 
 ' No, indeed ; I fear not. Yes, I will 
 certainly speak to my wife about sending him 
 to school. Your opinion, Ferdinand, will I am 
 sure have its due weight with her.' 
 
 ' Pardon me, Arden ; but I had rather you 
 left me and my opinion out of this question. 
 It is a purely domestic one ; you, of course, 
 have every right to propose — naj^ to dictate — 
 the course I have ventured to sutrsfest. But 
 your wife would naturally resent any inter- 
 ference in such matters on my part.' 
 
 If it had not been for an opposition on Lad}' 
 Arden's part much more strenuous than she 
 was used to exhibit, Frank would have gone to 
 school after his meeting with that giant ; but, as 
 it was, he still remained at home. 
 
 One of the future duties of Miss Elise Hurt 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 i62 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 would be to teacli liim German. In the mean 
 time he learnt readily enough whatever his 
 sisters could impart to him ; but the effect of 
 such tender teaching and environments was 
 somewhat to increase a certain constitutional 
 effeminacy. When Sir Eobert once spoke with 
 admiration of Frank's devotion to his little 
 brother, Mr. Ferdinand Walcot observed that 
 it was, indeed, a pleasant spectacle to see them 
 together ; ' one would think,' he said, ' they 
 were almost of the same age ; but, for all that, 
 it was doubtful whether it was advantageous 
 for a lad of nine to be so very childish in his 
 pursuits.' 
 
 These words of wisdom were a little hard 
 on the elder lad ; for the share he took in his 
 brother's pleasures was solely in order to 
 increase them. The Great Baba (like other 
 princes of a larger growth) was never so happy 
 as when marshalling his army of tin soldiers in 
 the tented field, with Frank by his side, as 
 aide-de-camp^ to pick up the fallen, and set 
 them on their pins again. After Frank had
 
 THE YOUNG PEOPLE. 163 
 
 done Ms lessons, he always placed himself at 
 his brother's service for an hour before he went 
 out to take his own amusements. He had done 
 so on the morning when Evelyn had gone to 
 Mirton to fetch Miss Hurt, and had promised 
 the Great Baba to come in betimes to help fire 
 the battery (of peas) against the invading army 
 (twenty-three top-heavy men in green), and 
 finish the campaign with a pitiless slaughter. A 
 plan which, unhappily for both parties, was not 
 destined to be carried out. 
 
 Frank's first thought on getting free from 
 his military duties was to go down to the Point 
 to see w^hether any of the wreck had come 
 ashore ; and, in order to enhance this pleasure, 
 he had called on his way at the gardener's 
 cottage to pick up Jem Groad, the only play- 
 mate of his own age that Halcombe could 
 supply. Jem and he were singularly anti- 
 pathetic : the former being a stout, unimagi- 
 native lad, of a sullen disposition, which he 
 probably inherited from his father. Mr. John 
 Groad was an excellent gardener, and he knew
 
 i64 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 it. Upon the rare occasions when he was 
 reproached by his mistress for not having fruit 
 or flower in such perfection as they were pro- 
 duced elsewhere, he intrenched himself behind 
 the lines of incredulity . 
 
 ' But Mr. Merrick as well as his gardener,' 
 she would say, ' have both assured me, John, 
 that such-and-such is the case ; the flower does 
 grow in that soil, or the fruit lias attained to 
 these dimensions.' 
 
 ' I tell you what it is, my lady,' John Groad 
 would reply, leaning on his spade ; ' they lies.' 
 The assertion was unanswerable ; but it was 
 not courteous. Nor was courtesy his forte 
 at any time. He was one of those dogged, un- 
 gracious persons whom human nature (which 
 has more charity for such characters than for 
 more agreeable ones) concludes to be ' honest 
 as the day,' since, if not that, it is clear that 
 they ought to be hung. And Jem Groad was 
 John in miniature. 
 
 The cottage was scrupulously clean ; but, 
 though its inmate was understood by envious
 
 THE YOUNG PEOPLE. 165 
 
 neighbours to have money laid up in the Bank, 
 it had no trace of ornament. It had not even 
 a flower in it — a circumstance, however, which 
 might have arisen from Mr. Groad's having too 
 much to do with flowers professionally to care 
 to look on them in his leisure hours. A large 
 black parrot, liowever — the terror of the 
 village children, and darkly whispered by their 
 seniors to be the Fiend incarnate and in feathers 
 — swung from the ceiling in a wicker cage. 
 j\Ir. Groad had purchased it of a shipwrecked 
 mariner at Archester for two-and-sixpence, and 
 had taught it his own language. 
 
 ' We are all for ourselves here,' was its 
 hoarse welcome to Frank as he opened the 
 cottage door. ' All for ourselves ; all for our- 
 selves ; yes, yes.' 
 
 It had made the same observation too many 
 times before to attract that young gentleman's 
 attention. 
 
 ' Now, Jem,' cried he, gleefully, ' give up 
 your tato'-paring and come down to the wreck.' 
 
 As a matter of fact no proposition could
 
 i66 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 have been more agreeable to tbe youth addressed ; 
 but, hke some full-grown people of my acquaint- 
 ance, it was his humour never to appear grate- 
 ful for any suggestion. 
 
 ' What's the good o' wreckings to me,' he 
 said ; ' if I was your uncle and lord o' the 
 manor, then I should like 'em well enough ; 
 ' all findings keepings " w^th him, for that's the 
 law.' 
 
 ' Well, whatever you find this morning you 
 shall keep, Jem, that I promise you,' said Frank, 
 assuringly. 
 
 ' There'll be no corpses, that's for certain,' 
 responded the other, doggedly. 'Father says 
 as the lifeboat took away whatever was worth 
 taking.' 
 
 ' Wliat on earth w^ould you do with a corpse 
 if you found it ? ' inquired Frank, with a look 
 of disgust, not unaccompanied, however, by a 
 certain morbid curiosity. 
 
 'Well, I'd empty his pockets, that is what 
 I'd do with a corpse ; but I tell 'ee there'll be 
 no such luck.'
 
 THE YOUNG PEOPLE. 167 
 
 ' Let's hope for the best,' said Frank, secretly 
 much resigned to this stroke of misfortune, but 
 eager to concihate his morose companion ; ' come 
 along.' 
 
 Jem Groad came along accordingly, though 
 still in an aggrieved and sulky mood. Stronger 
 and more inured to toil than his aristocratic 
 companion, he made much better running up 
 the steep hill. * You needn't cut away from a 
 fellow,' gasped poor Frank. 
 
 ' You've got neither legs nor wind, you 
 ain't,' replied the other, contemptuously. 
 
 'I can run as fast as you and faster,' 
 answered Frank, with irritation, ' but I'm tired 
 this morning with sitting up all night at the 
 Mil.' 
 
 ' Tired with sittin' up ! Bah ! if you had 
 stood on the quay for six hours and more, as I 
 did, you might talk of being tired.' 
 
 They had now reached the churchyard, 
 close to which a stream which fed the mill ran 
 rapidly down to the sea. About half-way down 
 a dam had been formed, over which was a
 
 i68 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 narrow foot bridge, always an attraction to the 
 boys from its obvious danger. 
 
 ' Now I will race you to the mill-dam,' cried 
 Frank, who was swift of foot. 
 
 ' Bah ! any fool can run^ rejoined Master 
 Groad, whose /c*?'^^ was less speed than endur- 
 ance. 
 
 Nevertheless off they started like grey- 
 hounds from the leash. Frank first reached 
 the goal, but in a very distressed condition ; he 
 held on to the rail of the foot bridge and 
 breathed in gasps. His rival arrived three 
 seconds afterwards, but with quite a superfluity 
 of breath in him, which he at once apphed to 
 purposes of disparagement. 
 
 ' Yes, you can run ; of course, you can run. 
 It is well for you, since you can't fight.' 
 
 This was very hard, because the other could 
 not answer him except by pants. He looked, 
 however, pugnacious enough. 
 
 'Ah, you may grin' (he had not meant io 
 grin at all), 'but you're a molly-coddle. I 
 don't wonder that they call you Nell ' — he
 
 THE YOUNG PEOPLE. 169 
 
 would have said Nelly, but Frank's fingers 
 throttled him at the first syllable. He had 
 flown at him like a young cat-a-mountain. 
 The next moment the two boys were sprawling 
 on the slippery bridge, in a struggle in which 
 the rules of battle, as laid down in ' Fistiana,' 
 were grievously neglected. On one side there 
 wa^ no rail at all, but very deep water, which 
 rushing under the bridge fell through a grating 
 into the mill pool below. Thus, whoever was 
 once sucked in, no matter how great his swim- 
 ming powers, must needs perish, smce there 
 was no egress. The combatants recked nothing 
 of this till one of them — Jem Groad — shpped 
 over ; his legs went instantly away from him, 
 under the bridge which his hands still clutched 
 in desperation. 
 
 Frank, on his part, frenzied with fear, seized 
 him by the hair, and roused the echoes with 
 screams for help. Had he loosed his hold for 
 an instant, or if Jem's hair should show a sign 
 of what the barbers call ' weakness at the roots,' 
 the latter would have at once discovered whether
 
 lyo UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 the black parrot had been hbelled or not by 
 pubhc report. He would have been bound for 
 Tartarus to a certainty. 
 
 On the hill top, some quarter of a mile 
 away, two men had been conversing for some 
 time ; one evidently a student, or man of thought, 
 the other an agriculturist. 
 
 ' The hay ^vas bad,' the former had been 
 saying ; ' and that was not the worst of it. It 
 was half a load short of the quantity.' 
 
 ' There must have been some mistake, sir,' 
 rephed the other deferentially, and very pale. 
 
 ' The law calls such mistakes by the name 
 of fraud. You cheated Sir Eobert about the 
 cows you sold for him at Archester.' 
 
 'I charged him a few shillings for the com- 
 mission, sir ; that was all.' 
 
 ' You lie, Gilbert Holm. You put ten 
 pounds of his into your own pocket.' 
 
 ' Oh, pray, Mr. Walcot, have mercy u]3on 
 me for this once.' 
 
 ' I have not made up my mind as to that,' 
 was the cool rejoinder.
 
 THE YOUXG PEOPLE. 171 
 
 ' I will be your slave for life if you will not 
 expose me ' 
 
 At this moment a piercing cry for help came 
 up to them from below. 
 
 ' Good God I Mr. Walcot, there is some one 
 drowning. It is httle Frank.' 
 
 He would have rushed off in aid at once, 
 impelled, it is just to say, by natural instinct, 
 though upon its heels came the selfish reflection, 
 ' Here is an opportunity for laying Sir Eobert 
 under a life-long obhgation, and covering all 
 my peccadilloes against him.' 
 
 Perhaps the same thought occurred to his 
 companion, for a hand v\'as laid upon liis ^n'ist, 
 and a voice more potent than the grasp restrained 
 him. 
 
 ' It is not Frank, you fool. It is the gar- 
 dener's boy.' 
 
 ' But, sir, he is drowning ! ' ejaculated the 
 other, with dismay that feU httle short of horror. 
 
 ' True ; you had better save him. Go." 
 As the speaker's hand released him, Gilbert 
 Holm bounded towards the bridge.
 
 172 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 The ground was in his favour, and he ran 
 hke a deer, but he was only just in time. Two 
 seconds more of Mr. Ferdinand Walcot's con- 
 verse, always momentous as it was, would on 
 this occasion have weighed down a human 
 hfe. 
 
 Breathless and dripping, Jem was hauled 
 out of the hungry current, and deposited upon 
 the grassy bank ; his face was almost as cada- 
 verous as one of those human flotsam and jetsam 
 which he had lately evinced such a desire to 
 come across. 
 
 ' Oh, Jem, dear Jem,' cried Frank, kneeling 
 by liis side, and weeping bitterly, ' do tell me 
 you are not dead.' 
 
 ' If I'm not, it's no thanks to you,' growled 
 the object thus addressed. ' He tried to drown 
 me, Mr. Holm.' 
 
 ' Oh, what a wicked story ! ' exclaimed 
 Frank. 
 
 ' We'll see what the policeman says about 
 that,' murmured Jem. His eyes were still 
 closed, but he dimly saw his way to pecuniary
 
 THE YOUNG PEOPLE. 173 
 
 compensation for having been worsted in his 
 late encounter. 
 
 'Come, come, young Groad,' said Holm, 
 ' it was a fair tussle between you, only you must 
 needs take a slippery plank to try your strength 
 upon.' 
 
 'You were not near enough, Holm, to be 
 sure of that,' put in a grave voice. ' Let us be 
 careful not to side unjustly with the rich against 
 the poor.' 
 
 ' That's just it, Mr. Walcot,' groaned the 
 dripping one. ' It's because I'm only a 
 gardener's son that he thought nothing of 
 drowning me ; oh, please to fetch a pohceman.' 
 
 ' But I didnt try to drown him,' exclaimed 
 Frank, appealingly ; ' upon my word and 
 honour I didn't. It was terrible to see him 
 fall into the dam, and I held on to him all I 
 could.' 
 
 ' He cort hold of me by the hair,' muttered 
 Jem, complainingly. ' He tried to pull it out 
 by the roots. Oh, where is the policeman .^ ' 
 
 ' It is a sad case altogether,' observed Mr.
 
 174 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 Walcot. ' It is for your father, Groad, to take 
 what steps he pleases ; you may tell him that 
 much from me.' 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Walcot ! ' cried Frank, despair- 
 ingly, ' do you then believe it possible that I 
 tried to drown him ? ' 
 
 'My dear Frank, I cannot look into your 
 conscience. But I knoAv you often give way to 
 uncontrollable fits of passion, such as lead men 
 and boys to manslaughter, if not to murder.' 
 
 'Yes, Mr. Walcot, it was murder!' exclaimed 
 Jem, Avith eagerness. ' Let him give me a 
 sufForin at once, or else I'll send him to the 
 gallows.' 
 
 ' It is much too serious a case for compro- 
 mise,' sighed Mr. Walcot. ' The law does not 
 permit it. Go home, Groad, and send your 
 father to me. As for you, Frank, you had 
 better not return till your usual time, lest sus- 
 picion should be aroused at once against you. 
 Go away into some solitary place and think 
 over your hasty temper and the fearful conse- 
 quences to which it has led.'
 
 THE YOUNG PEOPLE. 175 
 
 ' Oh, ]\Ir. Walcot, I am so sony ! ' sobbed 
 the terrified Frank ; * I will never be angry 
 again, and I will do everything you bid me, 
 always, if you mil only protect me this time.' 
 
 ' I will do what I can, Frank, if I see your 
 promised amendment bearing fruit. In the 
 meanwhile you had better say nothing of this 
 to anybody, and I dare say ]\ir. Holm will be 
 good enough to do the like.' 
 
 ' I am in your hands entirely, Mr. Walcot,' 
 answered Holm, humbly, as they walked away 
 together, while a smothered sigh betrayed his 
 sense of the literal truth of his reply.
 
 176 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE OLD LOVE AM) THE NEW. 
 
 In spite of the gentleness of Mr. Ferdinand 
 Walcot's manners, and of a certain attraction 
 which he possessed for many persons, he was 
 not without his enemies. His spirit was master- 
 ful, and unless he had the mastery he would 
 sometimes become downright antagonistic. 
 His theory of government was something like 
 that of Mr. Carlyle — a despotism in able hands ; 
 but Mr. Walcot's definition would have been 
 still more precise ; it was necessary that the 
 hands should be his own, and as they were kept 
 always very neatly gloved, and were gentle, 
 and even caressing, in their touch (unless when 
 ' temper,' in rare cases, got the better of him), 
 his yolvc was not as a general rule resented ;
 
 THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW. 177 
 
 the majority of those who bore it were not even 
 conscious of its existence, until there came some 
 cause of disagreement ; Lady Arden, for 
 example, only perceived that he possessed the 
 art of management in its highest form, and felt 
 indebted to him for its exercise in all affairs of 
 the household. She never dreamt that he was 
 managing lier. The young ladies, until quite 
 recently, were not of an age to understand the 
 system of government under which they lived, 
 and even the Great Baba w^as not in rebellion 
 against Mr. Walcot's regime, but only against 
 Mr. Walcot. He did not recognise him as a 
 rival sovereign, but only as a big black man 
 who did not find favour in his eyes. Frank had 
 never opposed him ; but he had been the invo- 
 luntary cause of opposition, because he had not 
 been sent to school in accordance with his 
 advice. At the very first opportunity, there- 
 fore, as we have seen, the iron hand had made 
 itself felt through the velvet glove. From 
 henceforth Frank was in his power, as other 
 persons of a larger growth were. 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 178 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 He had all sorts of ways of catching his 
 birds ; if they flew headlong into his net, as in 
 Frank's case, without even a lure, so much the 
 better ; it saved trouble, and left no traces of 
 the hme. He never frightened them before he 
 caught them — if he could possibly help it. 
 But he had had some little trouble (and foresaw 
 more of it) with one charming little songster, 
 upon whose capture he had set his heart. * 
 
 There had been a time when Evelyn Nicoll 
 had delighted in having Uncle Ferdinand (so 
 she had then called him) for her companion ; 
 when she had hked no one better — not except- 
 ing even George Gresham — at her pony's bridle 
 rein in her rambles on the moor ; she had 
 listened to his fanciful weird stories with an 
 interest that fell httle short of enchantment ; she 
 had hung upon his lips, as he discoursed with 
 knowledge, admirably suited to her capacity, 
 upon bird, and beast, and tree, with a child's 
 hero-worship, and he had flattered himself that 
 he had only to put forth his hand to make her 
 captive.
 
 THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW, 179 
 
 Circumstances had occurred, perhaps, to 
 hurry his ordinarily cautious movements, or 
 perhaps he grew impatient to make sure ; but 
 certain it was that — quite in these later days — 
 she had escaped his fingers. She had not got 
 away, of course — he would have smiled at the 
 possibility of such an occurrence — but some- 
 thing or other had given her an alarm. Only 
 instead of fluttering (as some had done under 
 the like circumstances) with beating heart and 
 frightened eyes, she had become as hostile as a 
 ruffled swan. He felt that he had all his work 
 to do over again, though in a different manner. 
 And not only was the iron hand in this case out 
 of the question, but if he could have used it 
 he would not have done so, for this bird, as 
 sometimes happens, though very, very rarely, 
 had caught the bird-catcher. 
 
 We have said that the only tenant of Hal- 
 combe Hall who was in open opposition to Fer- 
 dinand Walcot was Evelyn Nicoll, but there had 
 been another rebel, who was now once more 
 under that roof — namely, George Gresham ; and
 
 iUo UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 in his case tlie bird-catcher felt no scruples. 
 There was, in fact, a bitter quarrel between them, 
 though known only to themselves ; under the 
 mask of a somewhat strained politeness they 
 hated one another most cordially, and afforded 
 one more example of the fact that there is no 
 war so virulent as civil war. It was an unequal 
 combat, because one of the belhgerents was 
 more unscrupulous than the other : when one 
 side poisons wells and the other shrinks from it, 
 the former has a positive though an undue ad- 
 vantage ; but, for all that, George Gresham was 
 no despicable foe. The very impetuousness of 
 his assaults, which excited the other's contempt 
 rather than his apprehensions, did considerable 
 execution. To his intimates (as we have seen) 
 George Gresham made no secret of his convic- 
 tion that Ferdinand Walcot was a scoundrel ; 
 and to every one else he made it clearly under- 
 stood that he regarded him with no favour. 
 There had been a time when on one side, at all 
 events, considerable concihation had been at- 
 tempted. As a boy, not yet emancipated from
 
 THE OLD LOVE AND THE AEW. i8i 
 
 school, George had been the recipient of Mr. 
 Walcot's generosity. The ' tips ' he liad given 
 him were, indeed, much larger than were pru- 
 dent to be entrusted to such young hands ; and 
 he had given him to understand that he might 
 count upon whatever he wished to obtain from 
 his uncle, provided it was applied for through 
 Ferdinand Walcot. To the schoolboy this 
 arrancrement seemed a^rreeable enough : but as 
 he grew older, he began, as the only blood re- 
 lation of his uncle, to resent the proviso at- 
 tached to it : it seemed not in accordance with 
 the fitness of things that such mediation should 
 be necessary. Hence arose doubts, suspicions, 
 and finally a colhsion with his late ally. Then 
 war, openly declared upon the young man's 
 side, but apparently declined by the other. 
 Gresham appealed to his uncle, and found 
 him kind, but deaf to all arguments against 
 Walcot. 
 
 ' You do not understand, my dear boy, the 
 nobility of that man's nature ; the thought of 
 self is foreign to it.' And then that stereotyped
 
 i82 UNDER ONE ROOF, 
 
 phrase of his, delivered with pathetic solemnity, 
 ' There is a sacred tie between us.' 
 
 Mr. Walcot, though not put upon his de- 
 fence, volunteered some statements as to his 
 motives ; he could afford to leave them to Sir 
 Eobert's interpretation, he said, but it was quite 
 possible George had failed to appreciate them. 
 Sir Eobert was his own kith and kin, and it 
 was but natural that he should consider things 
 to be his right which were, in fact, not so ; but 
 which in all reason and justice should depend 
 rather upon his own good behaviour. He was 
 not a bad boy — Heaven forbid that should be 
 the case ! — but he had serious faults, which he 
 (Mr. Walcot) had striven to amend, and re- 
 ceived anything but thanks for his pains. He 
 did not, however, want thanks ; but only to see 
 such amendment in the lad as would give satis- 
 faction to his uncle. Even in such a small 
 affair as getting up in the morning, and being 
 in time for breakfast, he could not bring him- 
 self to turn over a new leaf, though he knew 
 Sir Eobert's particularity in the matter.
 
 THE OLD LOVE AXD THE NEW. 183 
 
 Now Georcre was a confirmed sluofcrard, and 
 his accuser knew this to be a crucial test in 
 which he was almost sure to fail. And he did 
 fail ; he was fool enough — or, perhaps, obstinate 
 enough — to neglect this simple means of grace 
 which Mr. Walcot had suggested to him. And 
 the little rift thus made between him and his 
 uncle was skilfully widened. He had been 
 withdra^vn from Oxford and the companionship 
 of his friend Frederic Mayne, under Walcot's 
 advice, on the pretext of his extravagant habits 
 — a charge he could not deny — and had been 
 sent to Germany to complete his education. 
 He had visited Halcombe during the vaca- 
 tions, to be received by Sir Eobert with his 
 usual kindness — never intermitted, save when 
 he made a late appearance at the breakfast 
 table ; and eventually, as we have seen, he had 
 been selected to be the futiu-e husband of his 
 uncle's favourite, Evelyn. He did not know that 
 from that hour Ferdinand Walcot's dislike of him 
 had tm-ned to malevolent hate ; but he was 
 quite aware that he was his foe. His fearless,
 
 i84 UNDER OXE ROOF. 
 
 careless disposition, however, had led him to pay 
 small heed to this circumstance — preferring to 
 consider the man the enemy of the human race 
 rather than his own — until the present time; 
 when he felt that his secret relations with Elise 
 might expose him to a severe, if not a ruinous, 
 blow. 
 
 It was at Walcot's suggestion that Evelyn 
 had gone to fetch her from Mirton; and he 
 therefore awaited their return with a redoubled 
 apprehension. So strong was his presentiment 
 of evil that he walked out upon the moor 
 before the return of the young ladies was 
 expected, in order that his meeting with Elise 
 might have at least only one witness. 
 
 His first glance, on meeting the occupants 
 of the carriage, was directed to Evelyn, and it 
 in some sort reassured him. He felt certain, 
 from her quiet look (for she was one who easily 
 betrayed her emotions), that nothing had passed 
 between her and her companion to paui her. 
 His proposal that they should finish their 
 journey on foot, if the visitor was not too
 
 THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW. 185 
 
 fatigued, was accepted ; and the three young 
 people walked home together. 
 
 ' I have been trying my German conversa- 
 tional powers with Miss Hurt,' said Evelyn, 
 * and I find that books cannot teach me to speak 
 a language. I am glad she will find in you, 
 George, at least one person who can talk to her 
 in her native tongue. You must tell her, how- 
 ever, that she must consider herself a missionary 
 in a very benighted land, and not encourage us 
 to be indolent by speaking English.' 
 
 ' Perhaps it would be better if slie concealed 
 her Httle knowledge of it altogether,' said 
 George, laughing, but not without the reflection 
 that this would be very convenient. 
 
 ' I am afraid that would savour of duplicity,' 
 said Evelyn, gravely. 
 
 Then it flashed like lightning upon Gre- 
 sham. ' Evelyn knows ' — he felt that she Avas 
 alluding to his present conduct. ' I was only 
 joking,' he replied, ' of course, but I will make 
 her understand exactly what you desire.' Then 
 added rapidly in German, 'You will not use
 
 1 86 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 English more than is necessary, Elise ; and in 
 the case of one person, my uncle's brother-in- 
 law, it wall be better to conceal your knowledge 
 of it as much as possible. He is the only enemy 
 we have to fear.' 
 
 The next moment George Gresham turned 
 scarlet. He saw, by Evelyn's face, not indeed 
 that she had understood his words of caution, 
 for she had not; but that he had missed the 
 first step in his career of secrecy. He had 
 addressed the new governess as 'Elise,' instead 
 of ' Miss Hurt.' At this moment there fortun- 
 ately occurred a little incident : they met a dog- 
 cart with a groom in it, coming up the steep 
 hill from Halcombe. The man touched his hat 
 respectfully. 
 
 ' Where are you going, Charles ? ' inquired 
 Gresham. 
 
 ' To Archester, sir, to bring a young person 
 that is expected at the Hall.' 
 
 ' Oh, to be sure, it is Annabel Spence,' said 
 Evelyn. 
 
 ' Then Miss Hurt is not the only stranger,
 
 THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW. 187 
 
 it seems, expected to-day,' observed George, 
 lightly. 
 
 ' Hush, George,' said Evelyn, rapidly. ' It 
 is scarcely necessary to remark on such a 
 coincidence ; Annabel Spence is the new ladies' 
 maid.' 
 
 ' I am sure our companion is too sensible to 
 be annoyed by any comparison of that sort,' 
 answered Gresham, hijhtlv. 
 
 ' I hope so,' observed Ehse, quietly, in 
 broken English ; ' but nevertheless I am deeply 
 sensible of Miss Xicoll's consideration, which is 
 far beyond anything which a person in my 
 position (unless, indeed, she had the happiness 
 to have already known her) could possibly have 
 expected.' ^ ., 
 
 It was now Evelyn's turn to be over- 
 whelmed with confLision. 
 
 ' I had no idea. Miss Hurt, that you could 
 understand me,' she stammered. ' I was wrong 
 to say that books cannot teach a language. I 
 see now that it depends upon the capacity of 
 the student.'
 
 1 88 UXDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 'Xot at all, Miss NicoU,' answered Elise, 
 gently. ' It depends rather upon the student's 
 necessities. If you had had to learn German 
 in order to earn your bread, you would have 
 acquired it at least as well as I have English.' 
 
 Gresham was delighted at the admiration 
 that Elise's talents had thus extorted from 
 Evelyn, and still more at the flavour with which 
 she evidently regarded her. Half his expected 
 difficulties seemed to be already surmounted. At 
 the same time, highly as he estimated Evelyn's 
 nobility of character, he was not a little sur- 
 prised, supposing that she really guessed how 
 matters stood, that she had acquiesced in them 
 so readily. His amour propre perhaps was a 
 little wounded — though he knew Evelyn's affec- 
 tions were not engaged to him — at the quietness 
 (it looked almost like satisfaction) with which 
 she had accepted the knowledge of his attach- 
 ment to somebody else.
 
 1 89 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 THE LIKENESS. 
 
 Ox the morning after Elise Hurt's arrival at 
 the Hall, the family were assembled as usual in 
 the oriel breakfast room, awaiting the beat of 
 the gono' wliich summoned the servants to 
 morning prayers ; for a wonder, George Gre- 
 sham was on this occasion in time for that 
 solemnity ; he had made up his mind to fail in 
 nothing that might give satisfaction to his uncle ; 
 he was full of good intentions of all sorts, 
 among which the virtue of punctuality shone 
 resplendent — and besides, he was very anxious 
 to see Elise. He could indeed say nothing to 
 her beyond a few conventional kind inquiries, 
 and even these were only admissible between 
 the heir of the House and the governess from
 
 I90 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 the circumstance of their having been half- 
 drowned together, but it was an inexpressible 
 comfort to find himself in her company. She 
 wore a dress of Millicent's, which he probably 
 beheld not for the first time, but which had 
 never before excited his admiration. It seemed 
 to him, in spite of all she had gone through, 
 that she looked fresher and prettier, and alto- 
 gether more charming, than even when he had 
 first seen her in the church at Eotterdam. If 
 he had not known that Lady Arden and the 
 girls had shown her every kindness, he could 
 have read as much in her grateful and con- 
 tented look, and he loved them more than ever 
 in consequence. 
 
 ' Why, George ! ' exclaimed Sir Eobert, de- 
 lighted to see his lie-a-bed nephew in his place, 
 'the German air seems to have wonderfully 
 agreed with you ; I never saw you looking so 
 bright and wideawake at this early hour.' 
 
 ' Let us hope, sk, that that may rather be 
 ascribed to the pleasure of coming home,' 
 answered the young man.
 
 THE LIKENESS. 191 
 
 'That's well said,' returned Sir Eobert, 
 smiling, ' though I am not so foolish as to take 
 the compliment to myself; and he looked shly 
 across the room at Evelyn, who was talking to 
 EUse. 'In yom- delight at finding yoiu:self 
 once more with your uncle and the rest, you 
 have forgotten your correspondence ; ' and he 
 pointed to a letter which lay upon Gresham's 
 plate. Gresham laughed and opened the letter ; 
 and then laughed still more. 
 
 ' It is from dear old Mayne,' he said, ' apolo- 
 gising for not having met me at Paris — which 
 is fortunate, since I did not keep my appoint- 
 ment with liim. His yacht, it seems, w^as de- 
 layed by the gale, so that he could not get to 
 Boulogne ; and now he has got sick of the sea 
 and is coming to England.' 
 
 ' Ask him to come here,' said Sir Eobert ; 
 ' we shall be very glad to see him.' 
 
 ' You are very kind, sir,' answered Gre- 
 sham; 'I am sure he would like nothing 
 better.' 
 
 Mr. Walcot, who was as usual enoraged in a
 
 192 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 somewliat voluminous correspondence, looked 
 up at this. 
 
 ' Are you sufficiently sure of your own 
 movements for that arrangement, Sir Eobert ? ' 
 
 'Yes, yes, there is no hurry about that 
 matter ; and whether I am at the Hall or not, 
 Mr. Mayne can be made welcome.' 
 
 It was a curious instance of the ascendency 
 which Mr. Ferdinand Walcot exercised at 
 Halcombe, that this vague hint was the first 
 intimation which the rest of the family, includ- 
 ing even Lady Arden, had received of Sir 
 Robert's having any intention of leaving home. 
 His post of confidant to the Baronet was so 
 well established, that no observation was made 
 upon this piece of news by anybody. The only 
 astonishment it excited was in George Gresham, 
 who, having been so long away, was less ac- 
 customed to such proofs of Mr. Walcot's sway. 
 
 ' If Mayne comes here,' thought he, ' he 
 will fall out with that fellow^, I reckon ; ' and 
 the idea greatly enhanced the pleasiu-e with 
 which he looked forward to his friend's visit.
 
 THE LIKENESS. 193 
 
 Then the servants trooped into prayers, 
 taking their places so quickly that it reminded 
 you, with but a slight difference, of the stage 
 direction in the ' Critic,' ' enter, kneeling/ 
 A certain new face among them was, therefore, 
 not at once observable to the master of the 
 House, who, besides, had his book-markers — 
 long silk streamers worked by Evelyn in the 
 High Church style — to arrange. Sir Eobert had 
 a fine voice, and, what is more, one instinct with 
 deep rehgious feeling. At a later part of the 
 short service, when all stood up, his shght deli- 
 cate figure, with his reverential face and tone, 
 had a fine effect. He looked a true Head of a 
 Household, to whom the welfare, ghostly and 
 bodily, of every member of it was of genuine 
 interest. Suddenly his voice began to fail and 
 quiver. 
 
 Mr. Walcot was at his side in an instant. 
 
 ' Go on for me, Ferdinand,' he whispered, 
 and sat down. 
 
 Lady Arden also approached him, but he 
 waved her away. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 ' It is only a little giddiness, my dear. 
 Ferdinand will finish the reading.' And he did 
 so. Mr. Walcot also was a fine reader ; a 
 better one, perhaps, artistically speaking, than 
 his brother-in-law ; but the late occurrence had 
 somewhat disturbed the attention of the httle 
 congregation. 
 
 :. 'It was nothing,' said the Master of the 
 House, when prayers were over, and in answer 
 to the anxious looks of those around him rather 
 than to their inquiries ; for it was well under- 
 stood that Sir Eobert disliked fuss to be made 
 about his ailments^ ' I was a little faint, I 
 think, for want of my breakfast/ 
 
 If this was so, it was curious, since he made 
 no attempt to eat anything beyond toying with 
 a little toast and marmalade ; but of this no 
 one was supposed to take notice. 
 
 He was the first to rise from table, and 
 Lady Arden followed him with her eyes, but 
 with Iier eyes only. Mr. Walcot had already 
 risen, leaving his devilled chicken but half
 
 THE LIKENESS. 195 
 
 consumed upon his plate, and left the room 
 close at Sir Eobert's heels. 
 
 Again no one hazarded a remark, but 
 Gresham glanced significantly at Elise, as much 
 as to say, ' You see his power ; ' and then 
 turned scarlet on perceiving Evelyn remarked it. 
 
 Lady Arden showed no touch of annoyance, 
 nor perhaps did she feel any. She had been 
 long content with the affection of her second 
 husband, shown in a hundred material ways to 
 her and hers ; she had never possessed his con- 
 fidence ; and on the few occasions when she 
 had striven to minister to him in his Httle 
 troubles — which were generally understood to 
 be ' nerves ' — she had not been very successful. 
 She was homoeopathic, and had suggested 
 Pulsatilla, in which Sir Eobert did not seem to 
 have much confidence. 
 
 The Baronet passed through the folding- 
 doors that led into his own study — which stood 
 somewhat isolated from the house, forming one 
 of its many projections — and threw himself into 
 a chair. 
 
 2
 
 196 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 ' Great Heaven, Ferdinand ! ' were liis first 
 words, ' why did you not tell me ? ' 
 
 ' Tell you what, my dear Arden ? ' inquired 
 the other with simplicity. 
 
 ' Why, about the likeness. That girl who 
 came yesterday. I thought when I saw lier 
 face I should have dropped.' 
 
 ' Do you mean Annabel Spence .^ ' 
 
 ' Of course I do. Is it possible it never 
 struck you that she is the very miage of our 
 lost Madehne ? ' 
 
 ' The image ? Surely not. N'ow you 
 mention it, indeed, I do recall a resemblance — 
 something in the look of the eyes.' 
 
 ' The eyes ! the features — the very expres- 
 sion ! ' 
 
 ' My dear Arden — makmg every allowance 
 for your sensitive organisation,' answered Mr. 
 Walcot, in a tone of alarmed remonstrance ; 
 ' it seems ^ me that your affectionate, nay, 
 your devotional feelings towards our dear de- 
 parted, carry you sometimes too far. Kemem- 
 ber, it is I alone who understand them, who
 
 THE LIKENESS. 197 
 
 appreciate them at their full value ; and this 
 exhibition of them before others ' 
 
 Sir Eobert waved his hands in nervous 
 protest. 
 
 ' What does it matter — what does anything 
 matter, in comparison with what I owe to 
 her ! ' 
 
 ' Very true, my dear Arden ; most true, no 
 doubt. Still, you have since contracted other 
 obHgations.' 
 
 ' I know it ; I know it ! ' exclaimed the other, 
 impatiently ; ' and I hope I have not neglected 
 them/ 
 
 ' Indeed you have not ; no other man alive 
 could have been so mindful of them.' 
 
 'Still I was wrong to contract them. I 
 failed in fealty to the dead — if, indeed, I can 
 call her dead, whose living voice is so present 
 with me.' 
 
 ' Why did you do it, my dear friend ? ' 
 answered the other, bluntly. 
 
 ' Ay ; why, indeed ? I did it to escape 
 om myself. You don't know what I suffered
 
 198 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 when she left me all alone. You were not here 
 then, Ferdinand, to comfort me.' 
 
 ' I wish I had been, with all my heart.' 
 
 The gentleness of his tone was only equalled 
 by its genuineness ; Sir Eobert held out his 
 hand, and the other grasped it warmly. 
 
 ' I have no cause to complain, Ferdinand, 
 of any human creature, save myself. Lady 
 Arden and the children have been everything 
 that I could have expected of them — more than 
 I had any right to expect. My nephew, too, 
 dear George, is an honest, noble fellow. You 
 don't think so, because you compare him, per- 
 haps, with an ideal standard — he lias not, of 
 course, your sensibility.' 
 
 ' I said nothing against him, Arden ; and I 
 never shall do so. If I think he fails towards 
 you in frankness and obedience, considering all 
 tlie benefits you have heaped upon him, that is 
 only my private opinion.' 
 
 ' Well, well, let us not talk of that ; let us 
 agree upon that single point to difier. In all 
 others we are at one.'
 
 THE LIKENESS. 199 
 
 ' I liope SO, indeed, my friend.' 
 
 ' But oh, that girl ! Why did you not pre- 
 pare me for her ? When she timied round and 
 looked at me, it was as though one had risen 
 from the dead/ 
 
 ' I grant there is a likeness, though it did 
 not strike me with such force. If it pains you 
 I will frame some excuse to persuade Lady 
 Arden to get rid of her protegee.' 
 
 ' No, no, no ! ' answered Sir Eobert. ' Let 
 her stay here since she has once come. The 
 very accident of resemblance gives her a claim 
 upon me.' 
 
 Mr. Walcot bowed, with a stoop of his 
 shoulder too gentle to be called a shrug ; the 
 action seemed to say, ' This is a matter of feel- 
 ing in which no one has a right to argue 
 wdth you ; but to me such ideas are unintel- 
 ligible.' 
 
 ' My dear Ferdinand, I know I must seem 
 unreasonable to the world at large,' said Sir 
 Eobert, as if in answer to this movement, ' but 
 I should have hoped that you would have
 
 200 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 imderstood me better. You yourself are cog- 
 nisant of many things beyond the ken of grosser 
 minds.' 
 
 'I have been witness to certain manifest- 
 ations, Arden, it is true, that I cannot refer to 
 any known laws, and those manifestations have, 
 as it seemed, been connected with my lamented 
 sister. But I hesitate to attach to them any 
 vital meaning.' 
 
 ' That is because you are by natiure a sceptic 
 — ^that is to say, of a too logical mind, Walcot. 
 Yet you have allowed to me that you have 
 more than once been staggered. After all, 
 these incidents are only links of a chain that 
 has connected this w^orld with the other 
 throughout all ages.' 
 
 'Still, the hearing is a sense that is very 
 easily deceived, my dear Arden. . I have 
 til ought oftentimes I have heard dear Made- 
 line's voice ; but it might not have been hers ; 
 nay, there might liave been no voice. The 
 eye brings with it what it sees, w^e are told ; 
 and this is still more true of the secondary
 
 THE LIKENESS. 201 
 
 senses. If she were to tell me something 
 only known to myself and her — if I had even 
 
 seen her ' 
 
 ' That may happen yet, who knows ? ' 
 interrupted the other, eagerly, and yet with a 
 touch of awe. ' An angel touched Ehjah and 
 Daniel ; and, though it is true I am no prophet, 
 why should not Madeline, who is an angel, 
 favour me with her visible presence ? She 
 comes to see me in dreams.' 
 
 ' In a dream Milton saw his " late espoused 
 saint," ' observed Walcot, softly. 
 
 ' Yes ; but Oberhn tells us that his watched 
 him like an attendant spirit, held communion 
 with him, and was visible to his sight. When 
 he contemplated any important act she either 
 encouraged him or checked him.' 
 
 ' That was a very remarkable case, no doubt,, 
 Arden ; I remember something of it.' 
 
 This might well have been, since his com- 
 panion had conversed with him on the matter 
 half a dozen times before. 
 
 'But Oberlin's experience does not over-
 
 202 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 throw my argument, though I grant it weakens 
 it, as to the self-deception of the senses.' 
 
 ' That is what was said to Oberlin himself,' 
 answered Sir Eobert in a tone of triumph ; 
 ' when asked how he distinguished such inter- 
 views from dreams, he answered, " How do you 
 distinguish one odour from another ? " They 
 were perfectly distinct occurrences.' 
 
 ' He was a theologian and a philanthropist, 
 and probably of an enthusiastic temperament,' 
 replied Walcot, doubtfully. 
 
 'Well, I am neither one nor the other, 
 Ferdinand ; you must grant to me an unbiassed, 
 if not a logical, mind.' 
 
 ' I will go further, Arden, and allow you to 
 be logical ; I never knew a man more open to 
 reason. It is not my wash, you may be sure, 
 to rob you of any source of consolation, and 
 least of all of one which may proceed from kin 
 of mine. If this thing be really as you con- 
 ceive it to be, I should almost feel that I had a 
 hand in it ; that yoiu: friendship for me had at 
 all events received the seal of approval from a 
 quarter which in your eyes '
 
 THE LIKENESS. 203 
 
 ' It does — it has, Ferdinand,' interrupted Sir 
 Eobert, eagerly. ' Yon are dear to me for your 
 own sake ; but ten times dearer because of the 
 sacred tie that connects us — we cannot speak 
 of that, however, before others. Lady Arden, 
 for example, would not only fail to understand 
 it, but would perchance resent it. I should be 
 loth to give her cause of pain. You had better 
 go to her, by the bye, and say that I am myself 
 again, and will see her now.' 
 
 'I will.' 
 
 We have said Mr. Ferdinand Walcot had a 
 mobile face. It changed its expression twice 
 between Sir Eobert's study and the breakfast 
 room. In the former it implied tender assent ; 
 between the double doors it became like the 
 mask of Grecian Comedy, grotesque in its 
 satirical mirth ; and then, in the presence of the 
 family, it turned to cheerful contentment. 
 
 ' Sir Eobert would like to see you, Lady 
 Arden ; his giddiness, I am thankful to say, has 
 passed away.'
 
 204 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 CHAPTER Xni. 
 
 THE FIRST BLOW. 
 
 It was not very long after breakfast, and 
 while Mr. George Gresham was completing on 
 the terrace behind the Hall that second cigar 
 which his new cares and dangerous position had 
 rendered necessary — for without tobacco how 
 would some people contrive to think? — when 
 Milly NicoU came out to him, not trippingly as 
 usual, but gliding like a ghost, and with quite a 
 serious expression of countenance. 
 
 ' George, dear, there are plots in the air,' 
 said she. ' And I don't think you will see your 
 friend Mr. Mayne on this side of Christmas.' 
 
 'What do you mean, Milly .^ I have my 
 uncle's permission to invite him ? ' 
 
 ' You mean you had it. Mr. Walcot, how- 
 ever '
 
 THE FIRST BLOW. 205 
 
 ' Govifound his meddling ! ' ejaculated Gre- 
 sham, prescient of what was coming. 
 
 ' By all means,' said Milly, ' if that can 
 be done. He has persuaded mamma that papa 
 is not in a state of health to receive visitors, 
 and you can therefore guess the next step.' 
 
 'He is the most impertinent wretch!' ex- 
 claimed Gresham, passionately. 
 
 ' Oh, George, how can you use such words ! 
 If I had known you would be so angry, I 
 would not have been the one to tell you this bad 
 news. I was afraid it would annoy you." 
 
 'Annoyance is no word for it, Milly. Of 
 course it is a disappointment to me, but that is 
 nothing to the indignation I feel against the 
 person who has caused it. I will go to my 
 uncle at once, and ask whether in future I am 
 to consider him, or Mr. Walcot, the master of 
 this house.' 
 
 ' You would gain nothing by that motion, 
 George. But if you are very anxious to see 
 your friend at Halcombe ' 
 
 ' Well, of course I am ; but lono- before
 
 2o6 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 the post goes out a veto will be put upon my 
 asking him.' 
 
 ' Just so. But there is a horse in the 
 stable, and you know how to ride, I believe.' 
 
 ' It is not a sea-horse that I can ride to 
 Boulogne upon, Milly ? ' 
 
 ' No ; but you can ride to Mirton, and 
 telegraph to Boulogne, silly.' 
 
 ' Excellent girl ! ' cried Gresham, raptiu"ously ; 
 ' if you were a little better looking I could find 
 it in my heart to kiss you.' 
 
 ' He is the most impertinent wretch ! ' 
 exclaimed the young lady, as if to space, and 
 mimicking the fiery tone as well as the words 
 of her companion. 
 
 ' Seriously, Milly, I am charmed with your 
 sagacity, and I am sure it will please Mayne to 
 hear that you had so set your heart on seeing 
 him that you devised this scheme. I'll be off 
 at once.' 
 
 ' Now that is so like a man,' observed l^iilly, 
 sardonically ; ' first, in the ingratitude, and, 
 secondly, in the want of intelligence. Why,
 
 THE FIRST BLOW, 207 
 
 you're actually going' to tlie stables by the front 
 of the house.' 
 
 ' True, I will go by the back way. You 
 are an angel, Milly, with the wisdom of the 
 serpent added.' 
 
 ' And look here, George,' added she, as he 
 was hurrying away, ' if you are very anxious 
 about your friend's coming, you had better 
 prepay his message back. When he has said, 
 " I'll come," Papa can scarcely say he is not to 
 come.' 
 
 ' An excellent notion, my dear girl. You 
 are a Machiavelli ! ' 
 
 ' I'll tell Papa if you call me such names as 
 that,' rephed the young lady, demurely. 
 
 ' She is too clever by half ; I shall pity her 
 husband,' said Gresham to himself, as he passed 
 through the garden gate. 
 
 We have said that on the moorland above 
 Halcombe there were no trees ; on the extreme 
 edge of the cliff, on the Mirton side of the 
 village, there was, however, a notable exception 
 to this circumstance ; a long though narrow
 
 2o8 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 plantation of Scotch firs had been planted there 
 by some previous tenant of the Hall, to which 
 it formed a most picturesque approach. For 
 more than a mile the traveller could ride or 
 drive in shelter, while enjoying the most 
 exquisite glimpses of marine scenery. It was 
 called the ' Wilderness,' and was the favourite 
 haunt of the children of the village. 
 
 It was still early in the afternoon when 
 Gresham arrived at the entrance of this grove 
 on his return journey. The wind had dropped, 
 and only sighed through the branches of the 
 trees, like an echo of the waves beneath. The 
 sweet breath of the pines, tlie warmth of the 
 shelter they afforded after the open moorland 
 road, were so grateful to the traveller that he 
 almost always drew rein as he entered the 
 Wilderness, and came through it at a foot- 
 pace. Notwithstanding his familiarity with 
 the scene, this was now the case with Gresham, 
 though it is doubtful whether the slackening of 
 his speed w\as solely due to the attractions of 
 Nature. As he reached this first jut of home
 
 THE FIRST BLOW. 209 
 
 it was natural that the consideration of his 
 position there, and of his future prospects, 
 should have suggested themselves, and a gallop 
 (which had hitherto been his pace) is no aid to 
 reflection. 
 
 He was still ftdl of indignation against 
 Walcot ; but he perceived how dangerous it 
 would be to give expression to it, considering 
 the obvious increase of that person's influence 
 with Sir Eobert since he (Gresham) had left 
 home, and especially in view of his own relations 
 with EHse. If these should be discovered, they 
 would afibrd a dangerous weapon, indeed, to 
 the hand of such an unscrupulous foe. Gresham 
 knew that he was solely dependent upon Sir 
 Eobert ; but, to do liim justice, that was not the 
 consideration which most aflected his thoughts. 
 He was attached to his uncle by bonds of 
 affection as well as of gratitude, and feared his 
 displeasure at least as much as its material con- 
 sequences. He was well aware, too, that there 
 were weak points in Sir Eobert's character, 
 quite apart from his infatuation with respect to 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 2IO UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 his brother-in-law ; that, with all his kindness 
 of heart and indolence, he would at times assert 
 himself in quite a despotic manner ; that small 
 annoyances — such as a nephew's not being 
 down in time for morning prayers — put him 
 out excessively ; that ridicule of any subject in 
 which he took an interest highly exasperated 
 him ; and that certain derehctions from moral 
 duty had in his eyes the blackness of crimes. 
 First among these was the vice of deception. 
 ' If you will only be open with me, George,' 
 his uncle used to say to him as a boy, ' all will 
 be well between us ; but never try to deceive 
 me.' 
 
 George would perhaps have been open with 
 him now if he had only had his uncle to deal 
 with ; he knew that he disliked to be thwarted 
 in anything on which he had set his mind, and 
 that he would especially resent any change of 
 his supposed intentions as regarded Evelyn ; 
 but he would have thrown himself on his uncle's 
 generosity, and bared his heart to him — but not 
 for that daw, Ferdinand Walcot, to peck at.
 
 THE FIRST BLOW. 211 
 
 He could foresee, only too well, how lie and 
 his love would fare, should he venture to confess 
 it under present circumstances, and therefore 
 he resolved to conceal it. 
 
 Immersed in these reflections, he came 
 suddenly at a turn in the winding road upon 
 Elise herself, accompanied by Frank. 
 
 His heart leapt up for joy, but he was too 
 prudent to express it except by the welcome in 
 his eyes. A boy is always a dangerous third 
 party in such interviews, and especially a sharp 
 boy like Master Frank. A certain proverb 
 about ' little pitchers having long ears ' passed 
 through Gresham's mind, succeeded by the con- 
 solatory reflection, ' that the longest ear that 
 ever British boy wore cannot understand an 
 unknown tongue ; Ehse and I will talk Ger- 
 man.' 
 
 Their salutations, however, were made in 
 English, and Ehse informed him that the boy 
 had undertaken to act as her cicerone to the 
 beauties of Halcombe ; whereupon Gresham, 
 who had swung himself from his horse, and 
 p 2
 
 212 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 hitched the bridle under his arm, patted Frank 
 on the head with genuine approbation. 
 
 The lad, generally quick to appreciate the 
 least kindness of his elders, said never a word, 
 never even stretched forth his hand — a mecha- 
 nical impulse, one would have thought, to every 
 boy of his age — to pat the mare. 
 
 'Why, Frankie, what's the matter? You 
 look glum, as if if you'd lost sixpence irrevo- 
 cably.' 
 
 ' There is nothing the matter,' said the boy, 
 with nervous haste ; ' nothing at all.' 
 
 ' There Z5,' observed Elise, in German. ' I 
 never met witli a child of his years so dreadfully 
 out of spirits.' 
 
 ' It is not usual with him,' answered 
 Gresham, indifferently. ' Something has pro- 
 bably gone wrong with his lessons. What a 
 blessed thought it was that prompted him to 
 bring you here ! otherwise I know not when I 
 sliould have had the chance of a word with you. 
 How do you like Halcombe — or rather the 
 Halcombe folks ? '
 
 THE FIRST BLOW. 213 
 
 ' They are kindness itself,' she answered, 
 earnestly. ' So kind that my conscience pricks 
 me to think I should be playing any part here 
 that is not an honest one.' 
 
 ' It is not dishonest, darling ; and it will not 
 last long, for they will all soon come to know 
 yoiu" worth, and to welcome you as one of 
 themselves.' 
 
 Elise shook her head. 
 
 'You are too sans^uine. If I had known 
 what sort of hfe your people lead — so far above 
 everything that I have witnessed in my own 
 country, and all of them to the manner born — 
 I should have felt it impossible that I could ever 
 link my lot with yours ; if I could have fore- 
 seen the consideration and kindness with which 
 I have been treated by them one and all, I 
 Tvould have refused to repay their hospitality 
 with a deceit, however innocent.' 
 
 ' It is not a deceit, darling ; it is only a con- 
 cealment, and even that would be unnecessary 
 if we had only them to deal with. I say, if my 
 uncle and his people were alone concerned, I
 
 214 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 would make a clean breast of it to-day, and 
 leave the question of my love to be judged by 
 their own good hearts. But did I not warn you 
 that I have an enemy here ? Do you know 
 who it is ? ' 
 
 ' Of course I do,' she answered, smiling 
 sweetly ; ' if I did not I might hope that I was 
 fancy free.' (Ehse, like others of her race, had 
 learnt her English with Shakespeare's aid.) 
 ' But, because you have won my heart, my 
 senses are keen to all that concerns you. Oh, 
 yes ; I have seen that man's face fixed on yours 
 when you knew it not, and it means mischief — 
 ruin, if he can compass it.' 
 
 ' You have read him like a book. There 
 are some natures which we must combat in 
 their own way, or submit to be overcome by 
 them. We must meet the serpent with the 
 wisdom of the serpent. He has not heard you 
 talking English, I trust.' 
 
 ' No ; but I have heard him,' answered she, 
 naively. ' He has persuaded Lady Arden that 
 Sir Eobert's invitation to your friend — which
 
 THE FIRST BLOW. 215 
 
 seemed to give you such pleasure this morning 
 — should be revoked. However, there is some 
 one coming ; v\i^hat will be thought of our walk- 
 ing together thus ? ' 
 
 ' No matter ; Frankie will explain it. It is 
 my uncle himself — and his shadow.' 
 ' The two figures, which had been partially 
 hidden by the trees, came into full view. 
 
 ' There is Uncle Ferdinand,' cried Frank. 
 ' Oh dear, oh dear ! ' 
 
 ' Well, what of him ? ' exclaimed Gresham, 
 with irritation. ' He won't bite our noses off. 
 What's the matter with the boy ? He looks as 
 pale as death.' 
 
 ' There is nothing the matter,' cried Frank, 
 with the same anxious earnestness. ' Indeed 
 there is not ; oh, pray don't tell him there is ! ' 
 
 ' Very good ; I'll be as dumb as that fir cone. 
 But in retiu-n, Frankie, you must tell my uncle 
 how you came to be here with Miss Hiu-t ; else 
 he will think, perhaps, she has been straying out 
 of bounds ; don't you see .^ ' 
 
 'Yes, yes,' answered the boy, evidently not
 
 2i6 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 troubling himself ^vith the reason for this 
 request; 'I will say anything you please to 
 Papa. And George, dear George, if Mr. 
 Walcot should wish me to go to school, don't 
 let Mamma or my sisters vex him any more by 
 their objections. I would rather, much rather, 
 go to school.' 
 
 Gresham stared at the boy in astonishment 
 — for it was clear that he was in a state of 
 terror ; but his own concerns were just then 
 too pressing to admit of any questioning. The 
 two men were now drawing very near ; Sir 
 Kobert, as usual with him, partly from a certain 
 hypochondriacal idea that his steps wanted 
 support, and partly from the sense of depend- 
 ence always experienced in the other's society, 
 was leaning on his brother-in-law's arm, who 
 apparently was speaking rapidly in his ear. 
 
 ' Don't forget what you are to say, Frankie,' 
 whispered Gresham, hurriedly ; and then the 
 two parties met. 
 
 Sir Eobert looked grave ; but, with a courtesy 
 that never forsook him when speaking to one
 
 THE FIRST BLOW. 217 
 
 of the opposite sex, expressed his hope that the 
 Wilderness had found another admirer in Miss 
 Hurt. 
 
 ' It is very, very beautiful, sir,' said she, and 
 was about to add that she was indebted to 
 Master Frank for her introduction to it; but 
 her pride forbade it. If her employer chose to 
 impute any other cause for her presence in that 
 spot, he might do so. 
 
 Sir Eobert attributed her hesitation to her 
 imperfect knowledge of the English tongue. 
 
 ' That is a curious way of taking horse 
 exercise, George,' observed he, drily ; ' to go on 
 foot, and lead your nag.' 
 
 ' I had been out for a ride, sir, on the moor, 
 and meeting Miss Hurt and Frankie in the 
 wood, I joined them.' 
 
 ' It was I who brought Miss Hurt to see the 
 Wilderness,' said Frank, his delicate face flush- 
 ing from chin to brow ; ' I was showing her 
 over the grounds.' 
 
 'Quite right, lad, quite right,' said Sir 
 Eobert, patting the boy's head, but speaking
 
 2i8 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 absently. He had got something unpleasant to 
 say, a circumstance which always weighed upon 
 his mind till it was done with. ' By the bye, 
 George, I have got something to say to you, 
 which I fear will cause you disappointment. It 
 is with regard to your friend Mayne — the fact 
 
 is, I ' here he looked uneasily towards his 
 
 brother-in-law. 
 
 ' I am sure it will not be necessary, Arden, 
 to go into particulars with your nephew,' put 
 in Mr. Walcot, smoothly. ' The fact is, Mr. 
 Gresham, your uncle is far from well, and the 
 presence of any visitor just now — being a 
 stranger too ' 
 
 ' No, no,' interrupted Sir Kobert, petulantly, 
 ' it is not that ; I am well enough. But perhaps 
 at some other time, if it's the same to Mr. 
 Mayne ; it isn't as if he knew about it, and we 
 were putting him off, you see.' 
 
 'Well, unfortunately, sir, he does know 
 about it,' answered Gresham, drily. ' Directly 
 you were so good as to ask him — knowing what 
 pleasure he would have in coming to Halcombe,
 
 THE FIRST BLOW. 219 
 
 and also that his movements are apt to be sudden 
 — I telegraphed to him at Boulogne, from which 
 place he has wired back to say he will be at 
 Archester in two days.' 
 
 Mr. Walcot turned pale with passion. 
 
 ' Quick as may be your friend ^Ir. Mayne's 
 movements, I suppose a message could still 
 reach him by the ^vire to put off his coming ? ' 
 
 'Xot unless the wire was attached to his 
 yacht,' returned Gresham, coolly, ' as you may 
 see for yourself.' And he drew from his pocket 
 the return telegram, and placed it in Mr. 
 Walcot 's hands. 
 
 ' Was about to start for Folkestone^ hut am 
 now off for Archester^ which is the nearest 
 port to Halcomhe. A thousand thanks to your 
 uncle. Shall be icith you on Friday with great 
 pleasure.' 
 
 ' You seem to be somewhat precipitate in 
 your invitations,' said Mr. Walcot, biting his 
 
 lip. 
 
 ' Xot at all ; if I had been an hour later I 
 should have missed my friend.'
 
 220 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 I did not mean that, sir- 
 
 ' Well, well, no matter,' broke in Sir Eobert, 
 ' there is no harm done, George. Your friend 
 will be very welcome. Mr. Walcot, let us go 
 on.' And he hfted his hat to the governess, 
 and moved slowly away. 
 
 ' It is horrible ! ' ejaculated Gresham, when 
 the pair were out of earshot ; ' my uncle is 
 growing a dotard before his time, thanks to that 
 sycophant and scoundrel. However, he has 
 been done this time ; the electric telegraph is 
 certainly a great institution.' 
 
 Elise glanced at the boy, and then repro- 
 vingly at Gresham. 
 
 ' Oh, Frankie knows what I think of Uncle 
 Ferdinand,' he answered, hghtly. 
 
 Here a sharp, authoritative cry of ' Frank, 
 Frank,' was heard behind them. It was Mr. 
 Walcot 's voice. 
 
 The boy started off like a dog that hears its 
 master's whistle. 
 
 When he overtook the two men, Walcot 
 held out his hand, in a kindly manner, as it
 
 THE FIRST BLOW. 221 
 
 seemed ; but when his fino-ers closed over the 
 lad's, they gave a warning grip. 
 
 ' Look here, Frankie ; you said just now that 
 it was you who asked Miss Hurt to take a walk 
 in the wood : did any one tell you to say that ? ' 
 
 ' But it really was me who ' The fingers 
 
 closed upon him like a vice. ' Be so good as 
 to answer my question. Did any one bid you 
 tell your papa to say that it was at your 
 invitation that Miss Hurt was here ? ' 
 
 The boy trembled like a leaf as he answered, 
 ' Yes, Mr. Walcot. George told me to say so ; 
 but it really was ' 
 
 • That will do ; take this book back with 
 vou. If George or Miss Hurt ask you what 
 you were wanted for, say that I brought it out 
 by mistake and wished to get rid of it ; and say 
 nothing about the other matter.' Before the 
 boy was gone he turned to his brother-in-law 
 and said sisnificantlv, ' I was rio[ht, you see, 
 Arden. They met by appointment, without 
 doubt.' Sir Eobert struck his stick into the 
 sand and moved on in sombre silence.
 
 222 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 THE BIRD AND THE BIRD-CATCHER. 
 
 It is extraordinary, considering our fondness for 
 our children, how we ignore their griefs and 
 troubles. So long as they are under our own 
 eyes, indeed, we may be allowed to be the 
 best judges of the seriousness, or otherwise, of 
 their calamities'; but when once our children 
 leave us for school, we become dead to their 
 complaints, or at all events well satisfied with 
 their silence. There are some exceptions, it is 
 true, upon the other side — parents who are 
 always pining after their pretty dears, and 
 solicitous to learn from the schoolmaster's wife 
 whether that cold has ceased, or the hurt in the 
 little finger has healed ; but as a general rule, 
 once we put our little ones out to dry-nurse —
 
 THE BIRD AND THE BIRD-CATCHER. 223 
 
 at the Preparatory School or elsewhere — we let 
 things sHde. In ninety-nine cases out of a 
 hundred they slide smoothly enough, and our 
 certificate of approval is added to the collection 
 of parental|vouchers on view at the educational 
 establishment to which our yoimg Hopeful has 
 been entrusted. The hundredth case is, however, 
 a sad one. It is that of a child of sensitive 
 organisation, finding himself suddenly removed 
 fi:"om the gentle influences of home, and placed 
 in irresponsible and tyrannous hands ; friendless, 
 companionless, the sport of juvenile ruffians, he 
 asks himself, like the innocent but unregenerate 
 babe of Calvinism, ' Why am I in this Tophet .^ ' 
 From pride or timidity he remains silent under 
 his persecutions, and is either ruined, morally 
 speaking, for fife, or more rarely escapes — 
 murdered, for, though he seems to die of 
 natural causes, it is fi:"om a broken heart — into 
 the other world. Shelley and Cowper and 
 Lamb were among the less fortunate ones ; they 
 lived to curse the miseries of their schooldays ; 
 and many a songless poet has shared their fate.
 
 224 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 Sometimes a boy will hang himself. Imagine 
 the wretchedness that must consume the soul of 
 ' gladsome youth ' before it comes to that pass ! 
 What are the misfortunes of man — his disap- 
 pointments, failures, bankruptcies, and all the 
 ills to which grown flesh is heir — compared to 
 them ! Then by way of epitaph it is explained 
 by schoolmasters and others that he w^as of a 
 'morose disposition.' Idiots! Not to know 
 that the ' morose disposition ' is the toughest of 
 all Nature's gifts ; nay, more, that its possessor 
 is the very last to think of hanging himself, but 
 rather intent on pushing all others with whom 
 he comes into contact to that extremity. 
 
 The most marked features of these unhappy 
 lads is, that while mere children in their powers 
 of endurance, their intelligence is premature. 
 They are the exact opposites of those restless 
 spirits — a much more useful class I allow — who 
 from their earliest youth are yearning to go to 
 sea — until they get there. The poor little 
 fellows I have in my mind have no desire, as 
 many boys have, to become schoolboys. They
 
 THE BIRD AND THE BIRD-CATCHER. 225 
 
 know, by an intuition which experience often 
 fails to teach their elders, what they shall like, 
 and what they shall dislike. It is nothing less 
 than a crime — a cruelty of which Heaven 
 only knows the degree — to pluck them from 
 their home garden, without careful attention 
 to the new soil in which they are trans- 
 planted. Who would take a fuchsia from a 
 hot-house and plant it, in winter, on a 
 Yorkshire moor 1 
 
 ' For my part,' as w^as once said to me (the 
 speaker was a man well known to all readers of 
 the Enghsh tongue), ' I have held my ow^n in the 
 world, and can bite wdien I am bitten pretty 
 sharply, yet the memories of my schooldays 
 have never faded. I have suffered jDOverty, and 
 envy, and the deaths of my dear ones, but I 
 have never as a man experienced — never — the 
 unmitigated wretchedness which I suffered in 
 my first years at school.' 
 
 Something of this, in a vague way, her 
 mother's heart had taught to Lady Arden, as 
 respected her Frankie, and that was why she 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 kept him at liome. Imagine, therefore, her 
 astonishment, when the boy besought her, on 
 the morning after that stroll with Elise into the 
 Wilderness, that he might be sent to school 
 forthwith. 
 
 ' But, my darling Frankie, are you not happy 
 at home ? ' 
 
 Happy ! In his simple mind the shadow of 
 the gaUows was hanging over him. The voice 
 of Ferdinand Walcot knelled in his ear hke the 
 bell of St. Sepulchre ; the sight of Jem Groad, 
 or of his father, saturnine and menacing, froze 
 his young blood ! Of course, he lied to her. 
 ' Yes, I am quite happy, mamma, but I am not 
 well. I feel that I should be better away from 
 home — you know Uncle Ferdinand wished me 
 to go,' he stammered. 
 
 ' The wishes of your Uncle Ferdinand (as 
 you call him) have not the force of law,' 
 observed Lady Arden, bridling up. 
 
 There were rare occasions when her lady- 
 ship did resent Mr. Walcot's authority, and his 
 interference concerning her son had been one
 
 THE BIRD AND THE BIRD-CATCHER. 227 
 
 of them. At those words, ' the force of law,' 
 poor Frankie trembled. The power that could 
 send hmi to prison was of course superior to 
 that of Uncle Ferdinand; but what did that 
 matter, when whether it should be set in motion 
 or not depended upon his will ? 
 
 ' Well, mamma, at all events don't tell him,' 
 he answered, eagerly ; ' don't say that I asked 
 to go to school to anybody, but only let me go.' 
 
 ' I will certainly not tell your Uncle Ferdi- 
 nand ; but as to the other matter, my dear, I 
 must consider about it. You are getting on so 
 well with your lessons — and Miss Hurt has 
 kindly promised to teach you German — so that 
 it seems such a pity ! Is it that you want play- 
 mates, that you feel moped ? If so, we'll have 
 young Ea}Ties over from The Laurels.' 
 
 Frank shook his head. 
 
 ' Well, then — though I don't much fancy 
 such companionship — I'll tell Groad to give his 
 son a holiday for the next week or two in the 
 afternoons, and he shall play cricket with you.' 
 
 ' Oh no, no, no ! ' exclaimed Frank ; - 1 don't 
 Q 2
 
 228 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 want to play with Jem Groad at all ' (which, 
 indeed, under the circumstances was not to be 
 wondered at). ' What I want to do is to go to 
 school.' 
 
 ' Very singular ; I can't thinl: what has 
 come to the boy,' murmured Lady Arden to 
 herself. 'I'll just have a word with Mr. 
 Dyneley about him.' 
 
 It was not from his own hps that Lady 
 Arden had first heard that there was something 
 amiss with the boy. The Great Baba had 
 already discovered and proclaimed that ' Fank 
 was koss.' Ill-humour was a phenomenon with 
 Frankie, but he had not entered into that 
 potentate's military displays of late with his 
 usual vigour of interest, and on the previous 
 evening he had allowed several of his observa- 
 tions to pass unheeded — a crime little inferior 
 to tliat of high treason. 
 
 ' I tell you the poor moon is boke,' Baba 
 had observed, in pitiful allusion to the fact thai 
 it was not so full as it had been ; and Frankie 
 had expressed no sympathy with the moon,
 
 THE BIRD AND THE BIRD-CATCHER. 229 
 
 having none to spare, poor fellow, on sucli ex- 
 traneous objects. 
 
 His appetite had fallen away, too — and he 
 had generally a very fair one : indeed, he was 
 something of a gourmand^ and there were 
 stories extant of his passion for food in early 
 youth, any allusion to v/hich would mortify 
 him exceedingly. ' I like my little stunnny,' he 
 had once frankly observed, on being rallied on 
 his devotion to the delicacies of the table. His 
 very temperance had been the result of calcula- 
 tion. ' Xo pudding, thank you : not when I 
 have had roast duck. It takes the taste of the 
 roast duck away.' 
 
 These simple pleasures no longer remained 
 to him ! he had left them for some time for the 
 allurements of the literature of fiction ; but now 
 his very appetite had fled. 
 
 ' You'll die if you dont eat, Frank. Ee- 
 member the Rattle,' George had jestingly said 
 to him ; and he had burst out passionately with 
 ' I wish I was dead ! ' to the horror of the 
 domestic audience.
 
 230 UNDER ONE ROOF, 
 
 The mention of the Eattle was an alkision 
 to a certain speech of Frank's, when quite a 
 child, which, for simphcity and grim humour, 
 is not to be surpassed by any childish utterance 
 (though I keep an ample record of such things) 
 that has ever come under my observation. He 
 was overheard talking to another child upon 
 that favourite juvenile topic, Death ; and the 
 other had observed how shocking it would be 
 should such a catastrophe occur in a house — to 
 papa and mamma, for instance. 'Tlie worst 
 thing about it must be, I should think, the 
 death rattle.' 
 
 ' Oh, I shouldn't mind ihat so much,' said 
 Frankie, thinking of his beloved Baba ; ' because 
 it would amuse the baby.' 
 
 His other sayings were forgotten — effaced 
 by the pregnant remarks of the later arrival ; 
 but this one abode in the memory of his kins- 
 folk — as well it might. 
 
 While Lady Arden was yet puzzling her- 
 self as to what had ' come to ' her boy, and 
 w^itbin an hour of the interview with him above
 
 THE BIRD AND THE BIRD-CATCHER. 231 
 
 described, he came to express his contrition 
 that he had troubled her in the matter at all. 
 Upon second thoughts, he felt that home was 
 home, and that it would be better for him that 
 he should stay where he was, and learn German. 
 He was glad that his mother had spoken of his 
 becoming Miss Hurt's pupil, for he was sure 
 that he should get on with her : all this he 
 stated in a curious cut-and-dried manner, very 
 different from his usual outpourings, and 
 especially contrasting with his manner, wliich 
 was nervous and anxious in a hicfh degree. To 
 crown all, he finished by bursting into a passion 
 of tears, which, if he had been a girl, would 
 have been pronounced hysterical. Then, per- 
 ceiving his mother's terrified looks, he suddenly- 
 seized her hand, and adjured her in the most 
 moving tones not to reveal to any one what 
 had passed between them. ' Xot even to dear 
 papa — or, or — to Mr. Walcot.' 
 
 ' Certainly not, my darling ; this is a matter 
 for your own mother's care.' 
 
 And Lady Arden's placid, and to say truth
 
 232 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 somewhat vapid, face, grew steadfast euoiigb. 
 It boded danger to somebody ; and though she 
 had not as yet fixed — for certain — where 
 her wrath was due, she nursed it from that 
 hour. 
 
 The truth was that between those two 
 interviews betwixt mother and child. Uncle 
 Ferdinand had found Master Frank in tears, and 
 laid his velvet paw upon him. 
 
 ' What now, my young friend ? Are you 
 still thinking of the prison and tlie gallows? 
 Have you no confidence in my promise to do 
 all I can to save you ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, yes, sir, it is not that ; but I am so 
 miserable ; and oh, please, Mr. Walcot, T would 
 much rather go to school, as you once wislied 
 me to do.' 
 
 ' Ah ! you tliink you will be safe from the 
 consequences of your crime at school. That is 
 a great mistake. Neither time nor distance 
 can save you from tliat ; it is only by great 
 efforts that I have persuaded old Groad to be 
 quiet for the present ' Then, witli sudden
 
 THE BIRD AND THE BIRD-CATCHER. 233 
 
 sharpness, ' You have not been mad enough to 
 tell any one, surely ! ' 
 
 'Oh, no, not about tliat, Mr. Walcot, 
 answered tlie boy, with a shudder. ' I only 
 told mamma that I should like to go to school, 
 — which 1 thought would please you.' 
 
 Mr. Walcot smiled grimly ; he saw that his 
 tyranny w^as already bearing the usual fruit of 
 lies. 
 
 ' That was very right of you, young gentle- 
 man ; you are quite right to always please me. 
 Only, as it happens, I do not now wish you to 
 go to school. You will remain here and study 
 German wdth Miss Hurt ; and you wall learn to 
 speak it, or, at least, to understand it when it is 
 spoken, pretty quickly. Give your mind to 
 that, will you? ' 
 
 He foresaw that the boy might be useful to 
 him as a spy on Gresham and the governess. 
 
 ' Yes, Mr. Walcot ; I hear.' His tone was 
 such, that if he had added, ' to hear is to obey,' 
 after the Eastern fashion, the words could not 
 have implied more of submission.
 
 234 UXDER OXE ROOF. 
 
 ' That's well. Xow go to your mother, and 
 tell her — without breathing a word of my having 
 spoken to you — that you are sorry you made a 
 fool of yourself in asking to be sent to school. 
 You can say it was only " temper," brought on 
 — yes, that will be best — by a quarrel with 
 Jem Groad. And tell her you like Miss 
 Hurt ' 
 
 ' I do,' interrupted the poor boy, anxious to 
 conciliate his tormentor, and glad to be able 
 to do so, in one point at least, with a clear 
 conscience. 
 
 ' I was sure you did, or I would not have 
 told you to say so,' observed Uncle Ferdinand, 
 gravely. ' And, hking her so much, it is only 
 natural you shoidd wish to be her pupil. When 
 I hear that this is arranged I shall be pleased ; 
 but for the future, remember, I am yom' con- 
 fidant, and no one else. You are to come to 
 me in the first place, before consulting others. 
 It is I alone who know what it is best for 
 you to do. If you had got your wish for 
 going to school, for example, that might have
 
 THE BIRD AND THE BIRD-CATCHER. 235 
 
 precipitated matters with old Groad ; he would 
 probably have sent for the policeman at once.' 
 
 At this ghastly picture, all the details of 
 which the poor boy's imagination at once 
 supplied, Frankie trembled. His natural intel- 
 ligence, since it was of course utterly unsupple- 
 mented by any knowledge of the world, was a 
 positive disadvantage to him : a phenomenon 
 much less rare than is supposed. Walcot saw 
 that it w^as absolutely necessary to reassure his 
 young friend before he could perform his 
 errand, and even as it was, as we have seen, 
 he had inspired such abject fear as aroused 
 Lady Arden's suspicions. With all his sagacity 
 Mr. Walcot did not perhaps quite understand a 
 mother's feelings. 
 
 ' Well, well ; you needn't shake in your 
 shoes, lad ; in my hands you are safe enough, 
 if only you are not so foolish as to try and slip 
 out of them. You may always count on me as 
 your friend, provided you deserve it. ^ow go 
 to your mother and tell her what I have told 
 you.'
 
 236 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 Mr. Ferdinand Walcot, tliougli deemed by 
 some, who thought they knew him best, to be 
 somewhat of an aseetic — too studious and 
 spiritual-minded to concern himself much with 
 material matters, save when duty prompted him 
 to do so — had, in fact, his httle enjoyments. 
 He was — we will not say less divine — but 
 certainly more lumian than people generally 
 imagined. He had passions-r-and strong ones, 
 too — like other folks ; and one of them was a 
 love of power ; principally, it is true, for what 
 it brought, but also for its own sake. It was 
 strange that so astute a bird-catcher, should have 
 found satisfaction in having taken captive such 
 a fledgeling as poor little Frankie NicoU ; and 
 yet a decided look of triumph glowed in his 
 dark eyes as they followed the child out of the 
 room. He had thrown his net over many a 
 bird in his time : birds of prey, which had cost 
 him a sharp tussle ; birds of plumage, that had 
 taken all his art to make them his own. Yet 
 few of these triumphs had given him such 
 pleasure as the capture of this callov/ little one.
 
 THE BIRD AND THE BIRD-CATCHER. 237 
 
 He looked for the nonce less like the fowler than 
 the fisherman, who, finding but a sprat in his 
 net, exclaims contentedly, ' Little fish are sweet ! ' 
 Tlie reason of this was, that he wanted this 
 sprat to catch a herring !
 
 238 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 ox ONE SIDE OF THE DOUBLE DOORS. 
 
 The general ease of movemeDt in ' tlie Wheels 
 of Being ' at Halcombe Hall was (thanks 
 to some one's carefnl oihng) perfect. Not only 
 were all domestic matters managed smoothly, 
 but things without doors — the liome farm, and 
 the horses, the land and the small tenantr}' — 
 gave little or no trouble ; a fact that would 
 certainly have needed explanation had not the 
 reason been acknowleged by all, since the 
 Master was singularly deficient in all the art of 
 management, and shrank from business details 
 of all sorts with morbid reluctance. A man 
 who (according to his own account, though it 
 was confided only to a single friend), ' had more 
 converse mth the Dead than with the Living,'
 
 ON ONE SIDE OF THE DOUBLE DOORS. 239 
 
 and thanked Heaven that it was so, could 
 hardly be expected to interest himself in leases, 
 the price of cattle, the rights of a Lord of the 
 Manor as to ' foreshore,' and much less in still 
 smaller sublunary things. To say that Ferdi- 
 nand Walcot was Sir Eobert Arden's factotum 
 was to give but a feeble idea of his position as 
 alter ego, substitute, and vicar extraordinary ; 
 and, more than this, he was in some sort ' the 
 keeper of his lord's conscience,' not only in 
 moral affairs, but in things spiritual. He was 
 no priest, it is true ; he made no claim to the 
 Apostolic character ; but he had a habit, which 
 would have been thought very reprehensible by 
 ecclesiastics, of administering absolution. 
 
 Whenever Sir Eobert acted harshly (or 
 what seemed to be harshly in one of his mild 
 disposition), and was troubled in his mind in 
 consequence, Mr. Walcot was always at his 
 elbow to whisper, ' You did right, Arden.' And 
 it was certain that he ought to be a good judge 
 of the matter, since, in every case of the kind, 
 it was he himself who had originally suggested
 
 240 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 the line of conduct in question. The only ex- 
 ception to this was when his friend would 
 sometimes inquire, as if in soliloquy, why he 
 had contracted his second marriage, — how it 
 was that, having been mated with an angel, he 
 could ever have given way to human weakness 
 to the extent of alljnng himself to a daughter of 
 Earth, however eligible? Sir Eobert's con- 
 science, it will be seen, was quite exceptionally 
 tender, for it was not as if he had taken advan- 
 tage of his rank and wealth to link the charms 
 of youth with his maturity. Mrs. Nicoll had 
 been a widow — well favoured and ladyhke, and 
 well connected, no doubt — but still a widow, 
 bordering on middle age when he married her, 
 and possessing four children — all charming in 
 their way, but still what the cold world would 
 describe as ' encumbrances.' Perhaps he de- 
 sired what the medical fraternity describe as ' a 
 thorough change.' If so, he had got it. No 
 two ladies could Avell have differed more in 
 appearance and disposition than the past and 
 present Lady Arden. Of the latter we have given
 
 ON ONE SIDE OF THE DOUBLE DOORS. 241 
 
 some outlines : a kindly- hearted, but weak 
 woman; a valetudinarian, yet always well 
 enough for a dinner party or a ball — in con- 
 senting to live in quiet, and almost seclusion, at 
 Halcombe, she had indeed made a considerable 
 sacrifice for her children's sake. And yet with 
 all this love of fashion, and with some ex- 
 perience, she was wanting in self-possession. 
 There was a story extant of her having had to 
 consult a physician who was a stranger to her, 
 which was characteristic. It was before her 
 wealthy days, and when it was necessary for 
 her to attend personally to household matters, 
 which were hateful to her ; but she could al- 
 ways afford a guinea to a new physician. From 
 extreme shyness, however, she chose to set 
 down her symptoms in pen and ink, and placed 
 the paper in the Doctor's hands, so as to avoid 
 being questioned more than necessary viva 
 voce. 
 
 The Doctor opened the paper, and began 
 to read aloud, ' Eight pairs of stockings, three 
 chem ' 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 UNDER ONE ROOF, 
 
 ' Good Heavens ! ' she cried ; ' it is my wasli- 
 ing list/ 
 
 A little mistake that added an attack of 
 hysterics to her long list of disorders. Such 
 was but a shght example of her weakness of 
 character ; but she was a worthy woman of a 
 beautiful cream colour, as we have already 
 mentioned, and possessed a noble figure. But 
 she was not, perhaps, the wife to suit a 
 Visionary. 
 
 Madeline Walcot, on the other hand, had in 
 appearance resembled a good fairy ; of Spanish 
 complexion, delicate of frame, spirituelle of dis- 
 position, who repaid the devotion of her hus- 
 band with a passion equal to his own. She 
 was an orphan ; and her only brother, Ferdi- 
 nand, was living in Australia when Sir Eobert 
 wooed and won her. They had the same tastes 
 for literatiure and poetry ; the same aspirations 
 (not high, but tender, ones) for the happiness of 
 their fellow-creatures ; but, save for this, they 
 lived for one another only. It was long before 
 Sir Eobert could bring himself to believe that
 
 ON ONE SIDE OF THE DOUBLE DOORS. 243 
 
 this exqmsite flower, which at once adorned and 
 sweetened his existence, was lent to him but for 
 a short time ; that, notwithstanding his loving- 
 hold and careful tendence of it, it was doomed 
 to fade and perish ; the fatal truth was hardly 
 borne in upon him until he saw her dead before 
 him — faded away to a mere shadow of her 
 former self : an exquisite skeleton flower, lovely 
 to the last, but without bloom, or leaf, or 
 fragrance. From that hour this world grew 
 dark to him, and his hap2:)iest moments were 
 those in which he flattered himself he cauc^ht 
 certain vague and glimmering ghmpses of the 
 Other, concerning which he and his lost one 
 had often speculated together, not, it must be 
 confessed, in a very philosophic manner. 
 
 They had read together certain novel 
 gospels (in which an ungrudging Faith is even 
 more necessary than in the old one), wherein 
 vre are told that the spirits of the Dead can be 
 called at pleasm^e — or at least under favourable 
 conditions — to commune with those they have 
 left behind them, though certainly in a somewhat 
 R -2
 
 244 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 unsatisfying and unsatisfactory manner. Of old 
 she had been the preacher, and he the some- 
 what hesitating pupil ; but now that she was 
 gone, her teachings had become, as it were, no 
 longer the speculations of an ardent nature 
 that despised logic and cold formulas ; they 
 were sacred truths to liim. And everything 
 that appertained to her received more or less of 
 this consecration. In her hfetime, save the 
 parting from himself at the end of it, his Made- 
 line had had but two sorrows : one that she had 
 given him no son to bear his name, and inherit 
 the virtues she (not without reason) imputed to 
 him ; and the other, the absence of her brother. 
 ' You will be kind to poor Ferdinand, when 
 he returns, Eobert,' she had said, again and 
 again, though once would have been all-suffi- 
 cient. She did not go into details concerning 
 him, though when he had offered — if money 
 was the thing he needed — to bring her brother 
 to her side from his distant home, she had de- 
 clined its aid. He understood that he was of 
 far too proud a nature to accept of such assist-
 
 ON ONE SIDE OF THE DOUBLE DOORS. 245 
 
 ance, and so perhaps he was. ' Ferdinand will 
 return to comfort you when I am gone,' she 
 said, in her last moments. And her promise 
 was fulfilled, but by no means immediately ; 
 nor did he give a hint of such an intention till 
 two years after Madehne's death, and when Sir 
 Eobert (finding solitude perhaps intolerable) 
 had married a second time. 
 
 Concerning this matter, as we have said, 
 Ferdinand was silent, and in his heart Sir 
 Eobert knew that his brother-in-law^ disap- 
 proved of that act. It would have been a 
 comfort to him, indeed, could he have got his 
 assurance that it was the best thing to have 
 done, as he did in all other cases ; as it was, it 
 seemed to him that, resenting this sad instance 
 of disloyalty to the memory of his sister, he re- 
 ceived with some coldness the relation of his 
 spiritual experiences in connection mth her. 
 This was the more painful, as !Mr. Ferdinand 
 Walcot himself was one of those few privileged 
 mortals who could hold communion with deni- 
 zens of the other world almost at will. At all
 
 246 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 events, he had had such ' manifestations ' (as 
 they were technically called) as threw the poor 
 favours granted to Sir Eobert quite into the 
 shade. He was not only endowed with certain 
 mesmeric powers, his possession of which had 
 been placed beyond question by experiments 
 performed, half in seriousness, half in joke, 
 upon members of the family at the Hall, and 
 others, but — though this was a faith he had 
 only admitted in confidence to Sir Eobert — he 
 was a ' Medium.' His modesty in allusion to 
 this faculty, and even a certain way he had of 
 deprecating it, by no means made him appear 
 less gifted in Sir Eobert 's estimation ; so far 
 from sharing that gentleman's distrust in his 
 own powers, his allusions to them were so 
 worded as to cause the Baronet to credit him 
 with a certain apprehension of their magnitude ; 
 he looked upon him as a chosen instrument for 
 good in hands that w^ere far stronger tlian those 
 of humanity, and which moulded him, indepen- 
 dent of his own will. It was this spiritual gift — 
 joined with his relationship to his own sainted
 
 ON ONE SIDE OF THE DOUBLE DOORS. 247 
 
 MadeKne — that formed the ' sacred tie ' of 
 which Sir Eobert was wont to speak as binding 
 him to Ferdinand Walcot. 
 
 On the day on which IVIr. Frederic Mayne 
 was expected at Halcombe, Sir Eobert did not 
 appear at breakfast. He had passed an nn- 
 nsnally bad night, even for him — an habit- 
 ually bad sleeper — and he took his morning meal 
 apart in his study. The home party were all 
 sincerely grieved, for there was not a member of 
 it who did not entertain a sincere affection for 
 him ; but for one or two of them tlieir regret 
 for his absence, if not its cause, had consider- 
 able mitigation in the fact that it deprived tliem 
 of the presence of Mr. Ferdinand Walcot. The 
 Master of Halcombe and his brother-in-law were 
 always what is vulgarly termed inseparables; 
 but when the fonner was out of sorts in any way, 
 the latter stuck to him like his shadow. He had 
 read prayers at Sir Eobert's request — in the 
 Baronet's eyes none was so fit for High Priest 
 of any Household — but on the conclusion of 
 that ceremonv he had at once withdrawn him-
 
 248 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 self througli the double doors to join his friend. 
 And the breakfast was not a less cheerful meal 
 to the rest in consequence. 
 
 I am afraid this happens from the with- 
 drawal of any especially wise and good person- 
 age from most companies. It is felt that in 
 his presence ordinary observations are too 
 frivolous ; when we speak to him it is like 
 dropping words into an ear-trumpet ; sometliing 
 of unusual weight and value seems to be ex- 
 pected, and any trifles addressed to others are 
 uttered in a low tone lest they should offend his 
 venerable ear. 
 
 To hear the animated cackle that broke 
 out upon all sides that morning when he left 
 the room was to be reminded of the birth 
 of day — the chief topic being naturally the 
 new arrival, for whom the ' break ' was to be 
 sent that morning to Archester. It was a 
 vehicle that had taken one ' side ' of a cricket 
 match in its time, beside lookers-on, and was 
 of a capacity practically without limit. The 
 only question was, who chose to go. ' Milly
 
 ON OiXE SIDE OF THE DOUBLE DOORS. 249 
 
 will, of course, make one,' observed Gresliam, 
 gravely. 
 
 ' Wliy so ? ' inquired Lady Arden, whose 
 good-natiu-e always caused her to take jokes in 
 good part, but whose intelligence was of that 
 exacting character that requires to have jokes 
 explained to it ; and even to be informed 
 when a joke is intended. 
 
 'You may well ask, mamma,' said Milly, 
 tossing her pretty head. ' I am sure I don't 
 know why I should go to see Mr. Mayne more 
 than anybody else.' 
 
 ' I have been indiscreet,' said Gresham, with 
 a look round the table that drew a smile even 
 from the unhappy Frank. 
 
 ' You have been very impertinent, sir,' re- 
 torted Milly ; ' and if I took the same miserable 
 pleasure in poking stupid jokes at people, as 
 you do, I could make you in your turn very 
 uncomfortable.' 
 
 All the indignation of sixteen was flushing 
 poor Milly's cheeks. 
 
 For the moment Gresham flushed too.
 
 250 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 Was it possible that she suspected something of 
 his attachment to Ehse, and was thus alluding 
 to it ? Conscience makes cowards of us all. 
 Her next words, however, relieved his fears. 
 
 ' I think it very ungrateful of you,' she 
 continued, ' after my being the cause of Mr. 
 
 Mayne's ' Here she stopped, alarmed at 
 
 her own indiscretion : she had not intended to 
 have made any allusion to Gresham's sending 
 the telegram ; but her wrath had blinded her. 
 
 'The cause of Mr. Mayne's what?' inquired 
 Evelyn, merrily. 
 
 ' His coming ! ' exclaimed Gresham, gravely. 
 
 ' Well, yes, liis coming ; you know all about 
 that ! ' exclaimed Milly, with desperation. 
 
 ' I don't know, I only guess,' answered that 
 young gentleman. ' The fact is, I w^as so 
 fooHsh as to show Milly his photograph. 
 
 ' You did not ! ' shrieked injured innocence. 
 
 ' No ; I am wrong. She found it for her- 
 self in my ' Where she found it Mr. 
 
 Gresham was not permitted to explain, for Milly 
 had risen from her chair, intent on vengeance,
 
 ON ONE SIDE OF THE DOUBLE DOORS. 251 
 
 and he fled before lier round the table till 
 called to order by Lady Arden's voice. 
 
 ' What a child you are, George ! You will 
 make Milly more of a hoyden than she is by 
 nature.' 
 
 It icas, perhaps, a somewhat indecorous 
 scene, judged by the cold conventions of the 
 breakfast table ; yet to see this handsome 
 young fellow, with his feigned face of fear, 
 pursued by a Grace in guise of a Fiury, dis- 
 tiurbed Evelyn's gentle gravity, lit up EHse's 
 Teuton face with Mirth, made even Frankie 
 forget for a moment the Damocles sword sus- 
 pended over him, and so dehghted the Great 
 Baba (who always took his morning meal in 
 public, like some early King) that he rapped 
 upon the table with his egg-spoon, crying, 
 ' More, more ! ' — his method of demanding an 
 encore of anything that pleased him, from a 
 thunder clap to cmTant jelly.
 
 152 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 ON THE OTHER SIDE. 
 
 Oi\ tlie other side of the double doors a very 
 different breakfast scene was being enacted. 
 Mr. Ferdinand Walcot was wliat ' hberal shep- 
 herds ' would term a 'heavy feeder,' though 
 this w^as understood by liis intimates to arise 
 not from gross appetite but from the necessity 
 all nervously organised temperaments are under 
 to be well nourished. He could tackle kidneys, 
 and even mutton chops, at the morning meal ; 
 he took as many eggs as go to make an ordi- 
 nary omelette ; and was partial to honey in 
 his tea. Sir Eobert watched tlie performance 
 of these feats with languid admiration ; he 
 guessed what the Avear and tear of his friend's 
 constitution must be, under its pecuhar spiritual
 
 ON THE OTHER SIDE. 253 
 
 conditions, and bowed to circumstances ; he 
 sipped his coffee, and waited until the oracle 
 should be in a fit state for consultation. 
 
 ' Now tell me all about it, Arden,' said his 
 companion, when he had arrived at the last 
 stage of his repast, and was toying with his 
 toast and marmalade. ' There was no visible 
 manifestation, surely ! ' 
 
 ' No, thank Heaven ; not, indeed, that I 
 ought to shrink even from that ; my Madeline, 
 it is certain, would never harm me.' 
 
 ' Of course not. She must needs mean well, 
 whatever causes her to seek your presence — if 
 she does seek it.' 
 
 ' Ferdinand, how can you doubt it ? ' 
 exclaimed Sir Eobert, reproachfully. ' You of 
 all men ! ' 
 
 ' I do not doubt, Arden ; but I keep my 
 mind open ; I will not deliver it over, tied and 
 bound, to any power, whether in this world or 
 the other. I am not fully persuaded even of 
 certain things that have happened to myself. 
 Perhaps I am by nature sceptical.'
 
 2 54 UNDER ONE ROOE. 
 
 'You must be so, indeed, to doubt what 
 you yourself have witnessed.' 
 
 A look of annoyance crossed Mr. Walcot's 
 features. ' I sometimes re^^ent, Arden, of hav- 
 ing made you my confidant. You make too 
 much of these experiences. The judicial faculty 
 is the one most of all essential in such matters ; 
 without that, a man may become the blindest 
 instrument of unknown powers. Now tell me 
 about yourself. Wlien did this manifestation 
 happen to you, or seem to happen?' 
 
 ' Last night, at about the midnight hour. 
 I was sitting here alone, with my mind engaged 
 
 with material matters ' 
 
 ' What matters ? ' put in the other, quietly. 
 ' It is necessary to understand exactly in what 
 groove your thoughts were moving.' 
 ' I was making my will.' 
 Walcot bowed his head ; his face was 
 impassive as marble; but if the Great Baba 
 had been under the table (a favoiu-ite haunt and 
 fastness of his) his quick eyes would have 
 noticed ' Uncle Ferdy's ' hand clutch the arm of
 
 ON THE OTHER SIDE. 255 
 
 his chair. ' That is an occupation,' he ob- 
 served, ' which leads men to think of Death — 
 the Futiu-e.' 
 
 ' I was thinking of nothing of the kind, 
 Walcot; my mind was fixed on business 
 matters — or the claims of duty — and of friend- 
 ship,' he added with significance. 
 
 Mr. Walcot smiled and sighed. 
 
 He did not pretend to be ignorant of his 
 friend's kind intentions ; they were gratifying 
 to his feelings ; but he had long entertained 
 the conviction — and had expressed it to his 
 companion — that he should meet with an early 
 death. Those whom the gods love — and 
 especially those on whom they confer such 
 unwonted privileges — die young. 
 
 ' I was tliinking of stock and share, of land 
 and tenements,' continued Su* Eobert, gravely, 
 'when I suddenly became aware of my lost 
 Madeline's presence.' 
 
 ' Her presence ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; not in the room, indeed, but close at 
 hand. Did I not tell you that, when I was
 
 256 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 in my old study at the Grange, and did not 
 wish to be disturbed, a signal was agreed upon 
 between my dear wife and me? She would 
 knock three times with the flat of her hand 
 upon the door, to let me know that she, and 
 she only, wished to see me.' 
 
 ' No, you never told me. Well ? ' 
 
 ' This peculiar signal was given to me upon 
 yonder window.' 
 
 ' The ear, as I have said, is easily deceived,' 
 observed Walcot. ' The wind ' 
 
 ' The night was still as death,' interposed 
 Sir Eobert, solemnly ; ' and all the household 
 had retired. I am quite sure I was not 
 deceived.' 
 
 ' Well ; you opened the shutters, of course? 
 
 ' I ? No ; I dared not, without some invita- 
 tion more direct. I threw down my pen and 
 hstened attentively. Then I heard a voice that 
 I loved singing a song that I knew. Hush ! ' 
 (for Mr. Walcot had been about to interrupt) 
 ' let me tell you how it was from first to last. 
 Years ago, ere dearest Madeline betrayed any
 
 ON THE OTHER SIDE. 257 
 
 signs of that disease which snatched her from 
 me, and when, I, alas ! was young, I was a poet. 
 You smile. Let me say that I thought myself 
 one. I made verses, at all events, and some of 
 them had sufficient merit to induce my darling 
 to set them to music. I could not rhyme now, 
 even though the guerdon promised were to see 
 her sweet face once more ; but in those days 
 so it was. The poem that was the cliief 
 favourite with us both was one upon the 
 various callings of mankind : the husbandman, 
 the merchant, the soldier, and so forth. I am 
 afraid I weary you, but this explanation is 
 necessary.' 
 
 ' Not at all,' answered his companion, 
 softly ; ' I am more interested than I dare to 
 confess. You wrote a poem on the callings of 
 mankind ; Horace wrote a sketch of them, 
 likewise.' 
 
 ' I remember ; but in this I described the 
 thoughts of a young man, when various roads 
 in life are presented to his view for liis choice. 
 He recites one after tlie other : — 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 This yeoman's life is but a sleep 
 
 (He says) 
 
 And mine shall not be, 
 I would up through the dark and leap, 
 Not crawl where I could see. 
 
 And again, 
 
 This merchant's brows are lined 
 
 (He says) 
 
 As his ledgers be, 
 And he shudders more with every wind 
 Than his tiill ships at sea. 
 
 At last he chooses the military calling. 
 
 Swift-handed, fii'm-eyed, underneath 
 Brows which black Care doth flee. 
 
 In life well, but bast in the Death, 
 The soldier (he says) for me. 
 
 And this is the description of the " Soldier," 
 which many a time I have heard my darling 
 
 sing:- 
 
 Merrily clash the cymbals twain 
 
 With an exultant note. 
 Stirring sounds doth the trumpet rain 
 
 Adown its brazen throat ; 
 
 Freshly flieth the pennant fair 
 From the good lance's head ; 
 
 The stirrup's clank is blithe to hear, 
 Blithe is the charger's tread.
 
 ON THE OTHER SIDE. 259 
 
 Fierce and clear is the scabbard's ring, 
 With the sharp sword for guest : 
 
 But the whirl of the downward swing 
 Of that blue blade is best , 
 
 And the tramp of a thousand stseds 
 
 In thunder and cloud, 
 When the earth is shaken and bleeds 
 
 Maketh a man's lieart proud ; 
 
 More proud than mere words ever said 
 
 Or songs ever sung ! 
 And proudest the hearts, fcA^er-fed, 
 
 Of the brave and the young.' 
 
 ' That is noble verse,' observed Mr. Walcot, 
 approvingly ; ' I had no idea that you had such 
 poetry in you— the true ring.' 
 
 Sir Eobert sat with his eyes fixed thought- 
 fully before him, as though he were listening 
 to such tones as the poet tells us are sweeter 
 than ' heard melodies.' 
 
 The bard must be rapt, indeed, who takes 
 no notice of a compliment to his own muse. 
 
 ' Well ; 5^011 heard a voice which seemed 
 like Madeline's voice,' continued Walcot, in an 
 earnest but philosophic tone, such as befits 
 some disinterested judicial functionary engaged 
 
 s 2
 
 26o UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 in the dissection of evidence — ' and it sangj this 
 ballad?' 
 
 ' It was Madeline's voice ; I say not 
 " seems," ' answered Sir Eobert, emphatically. 
 
 ' Voices can imitate voices, my good friend ; 
 there is a door in yonder wall, which communi- 
 cates with the outside world.' 
 
 ' Tush, Ferdinand ! you are wasting time. 
 Does not even the bird know tlie song of her 
 mate .^ But, apart from tliat, there were the 
 words : my words. She was wont to sing 
 them to me alone. No living eye has ever 
 seen them, save my own ; no living ear has ever 
 heard them. You yourself even, for example, 
 were ignorant that I had ever written a line of 
 poetry. Is it not so ? ' 
 
 Mr. Walcot bowed his head. 
 
 ' There is a homely proverb, Arden, which 
 you will pardon me for quoting — the importance 
 of these things is so tremendous — " As the fool 
 thinks, so the bell tinks." In other words, the 
 imagination will sometimes mislead the more 
 material senses. Do you not think that you
 
 ON THE OTHER SIDE. 261 
 
 may have supplied the sense to this singer's 
 song ? ' 
 
 ' No ; every word of the ballad was as dis- 
 tinct and clear as I have given it.' 
 
 ' And is there no copy of this ballad in 
 your possession which by any accident — or 
 otherwise — may have fallen into other hands.' 
 
 Sir Eobert hesitated . ' There was one once ; 
 but it never left my desk, and has long since 
 been destroyed. It is not humanly possible 
 tliat it could have been made use of as you 
 suggest; 
 
 !Mr. Walcot rose from his seat and began to 
 pace the room. His broad brow was furrowed 
 with thought. ' Xot humanly possible,' he 
 repeated. * It is most true that there are more 
 things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of 
 in our philosophy. Arden, I dare not take it 
 upon myself to advise you in this matter ; 
 scarcely even to give you comfort.' 
 
 The speaker's voice was tremulous, his face 
 was pale and grave ; if he had been a less 
 logical and sagacious character one would
 
 262 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 almost have said, as one listened and looked at 
 him, ' That man is awe-stricken.' 
 
 ' Good heavens ! what do you mean ? ' 
 inquired the other ; he, too, rose from his seat, 
 and made as if he would have joined his friend, 
 but his hmbs refused their office. He sat down 
 again, pale and trembling ; then, in a tone of 
 piteous entreaty, he cried, ' You will not desert 
 me, Ferdinand ? ' 
 
 'Desert you, my friend? Never. No 
 power, whether in this world or the next, can 
 compel me to do that.' 
 
 He drew near and held out his hand, which 
 Sir Eobert seized with eagerness and clung to, 
 as a drowning man clutches and clings to a 
 floating spar. 
 
 ' I am yours, Arden, under all circum- 
 stances; but I am compelled to tell you that 
 our relations have in one respect undergone a 
 change. Hitherto it has been your custom to 
 regard me, with reference to certain matters, as 
 an exceptionally favoured (though, alas ! unde- 
 serving) being.' ■
 
 ON THE OTHER SIDE. . 263 
 
 ' Not undeserving ; do not say that, Fer- 
 dinand,' interposed tlie other, deeply moved. 
 
 ' No matter ; that may be so or not ; these 
 gifts fall like the sunshine and the rain upon 
 good and bad alike — though, it is true, I have 
 witnessed things which I hardly think could 
 have been vouchsafed to any one intrinsically 
 wicked ; but what are these, as compared with 
 such an experience as you have just described 
 to meP Eobert Arden, you have become a 
 link between earth and heaven. I have long 
 suspected it ; I have long seen you unconsciously 
 fitting yourself — by purity, by unselfishness, by 
 guileless trust and confidence — for that high 
 but inscrutable office ; and you have now, as I 
 believe, attained it. You will bear me witness 
 how I have struggled against this conviction ; 
 how I have disputed every inch of ground with 
 you — affecting even an impious scepticism 
 rather than encourage you to hope where hope 
 might have borne no fruit. But I contend no 
 more against the will of Fate. You are hence- 
 forth my master.'
 
 264 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 ' Nay, Ferdinand ; say not so. I am weak 
 and fearful, while you are strong and firm. It 
 is to you that I must ever look for counsel.' 
 
 ' No ; not to me, but higher. There are 
 others who have now taken it in hand to guide 
 you — to direct your every action.' 
 
 ' But they have said nothing. I only feel 
 that they are about me ; that I am in their 
 presence, though I see them not.' 
 
 'Even that may come,' answered Walcot, 
 solemnly. 
 
 ' Do you think, then, that I shall see her ? ' 
 
 ' I do.' 
 
 There was a long pause. Sir Eobert was 
 greatly agitated. ' I feel myself unworthy of 
 this function, Ferdinand, if, mdeed, I am called 
 to use it. Fondly as I love that dear departed 
 spirit, I fear — -judging from my feelings of 
 yesternight, produced by the mere tones of her 
 voice — that I should be like one blinded with 
 excess of light.' 
 
 ' Tush ! no greatness of this kind is thrust 
 upon us mortals more than we can bear. Be-
 
 ON THE OTHER SIDE. 265 
 
 sides, your mission is only to liear and to obey. 
 As you value your spiritual existence fail not in 
 that obedience.' 
 
 'I will not fail, Ferdinand, at least in will ; 
 but I am distrustfid of my own powers.' 
 
 ' That is the very condition which is most 
 welcome to our spiritual visitants,' answered 
 the other, promptly. ' They never impose 
 upon us a task too heavy for our hands. It is 
 often, indeed, judged by the common standai'd, 
 a simple and material act ; scarcely ever of a 
 nature such as we have preconceived.' 
 
 ' Her wishes shall be fulfilled, Ferdinand, 
 whatever they may be,' answered Arden, 
 solemnly. 
 
 It was curious that while the one dealt in 
 generalities, and spoke of ' they ' or ' it,' the 
 other seemed to have but one thought : all his 
 spiritual ideas were in connection with his 
 Madeline. 
 
 ' Now, Arden, you must smooth that brow 
 of care,' said Walcot, earnestly ; ' remem- 
 ber that no living being about us has any
 
 266 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 sympathy with the matters about which we 
 have been discoursing ; to drop a hint of them 
 would only arouse contempt and ridicule.' 
 
 ' Eidicule of my love for Madeline ! They 
 dare not ! ' exclaimed Sir Eobert, passion- 
 ately. 
 
 ' You misunderstand me,' answered the 
 other, quietly ; ' they respect your sorrows and 
 your loss, no doubt. But to their gross facul- 
 ties the dead are dead. We are told not to 
 give such persons occasion to blaspheme. 
 There are young and thoughtless folks in the 
 house, and there is a stranger coming, one of 
 Gresham's friends, and probably of a like frivo- 
 lous character.' 
 
 ' I remember, and I regret it. I would 
 have wished just now to be quite alone save for 
 you, Ferdinand ; to be removed from external 
 influences as much as possible.' 
 
 ' Doubtless it would have been better so ; 
 but, as it is, you must strive to forget what 
 happened last night — what may happen this 
 night. We are not put in the world to mope
 
 ON THE OTHER SIDE. 267 
 
 and dream like visionaries. There is a time 
 for all things.' 
 
 ' You are right, as you always are, Ferdi ■ 
 nand. I will play the host, I will act the man. 
 I will not give way to depression. Help me to 
 put my coat on ; — let us go out into the morn- 
 ing air.'
 
 268 UNDER ONE ROOE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 FERDIXAXD WALCOT's FIRST WOOIXG. 
 
 The poet avIio tells us that Black Care sits 
 behind the Horseman tells only a lialf-triitli. 
 Commentators have strangely missed this point ; 
 some have conjectured that the Poet was not 
 a good equestrian, and ^vas always alarmed 
 when ' outside his beast ; and perhaps the 
 ' common sense of most ' lias rejected this 
 theory too contemptuously : Eughshmen do not 
 take into account that the Latins were bad 
 riders. Others, again, have aptly pointed out 
 that the image of the Poet is meant to typify 
 persons of exalted position in life, who have 
 nevertheless their own little troubles; others 
 have contended that it suggests, however fast 
 we travel, we cannot escape our regrets.
 
 FERDINASD WALCOT'S FIRST WOOING, idc^ 
 
 None, however, have chanced to hit the blot in 
 the Poet's statement ; we have called it, out of 
 dehcacy, and reverence for the classics, a half- 
 truth ; but the fact is that Black Care does not 
 generally sit behind tlie Horseman, but locates 
 itself before him — on the pommel. It is the 
 Future, and not the Past, concerning which 
 mortals, for the most part, have their appre- 
 hensions, though it is true, on the other hand, 
 that some people have reason to be afraid of 
 both. 
 
 Mr. Ferdinand Walcot, as we have seen, 
 was seated pretty firmly on his steed ; a high 
 horse, too, and a good stepper. Still he was 
 not exempt from the common lot. He had 
 certain burthens on his mind. The road of 
 life was broad before him (it had begun 
 narrowly), and there seemed few impediments, 
 but it was necessary for him to keep a sharp 
 look-out. 
 
 It was his habit to make a daily tour of 
 inspection of the grounds about the Hall, and
 
 270 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 of the Farm, lest there should be anything 
 amiss; and if there was so, it was seldom that 
 his quick eye failed to discover it. The heads 
 of departments made their several reports to 
 him, as though he were their master ; indeed, 
 with much greater particularity and adherence 
 to truth than they would have done in the case 
 of Sir Eobert himself. The deputy has gene- 
 rally this immense advantage, that he cannot 
 be appealed to on his sentimental side ; his 
 answer is ready, ' I have only to act in my 
 employer's interest ; ' but Mr. Walcot had no 
 necessity to shelter himself under this plea. 
 No one dreamt of softening him — of getting 
 him to forgive a lapse of duty — by an appeal 
 ad misericordiam. They knew him too well, 
 though some knew that there were other ways 
 of getting their offences pardoned — no, not 
 pardoned, kept out of sight and secured from 
 exposure — for the present. This class made 
 reports to him of a somewhat different 
 character from the others ; they were of a 
 more private natirre, and, to say truth, had
 
 FERDINAND WALCOT'S FIRST WOOING. 271 
 
 something of ' secret service ' belonging to 
 them. 
 
 On the clay of the interview which we have 
 described between Sir Eobert and Mr. Walcot, 
 Gilbert Holm had a word to say to the latter, 
 not strictly in connection with live or dead 
 stock, which was not, however, volunteered. 
 The young farmer had strayed, as we know, 
 from the path of honesty ; but the offence in 
 which he had been detected (some people have 
 such ill-luck) had been his first one ; in spite of 
 that deficit in the hay-rick, and the commission 
 on cows (which was, after all, a colourable trans- 
 action), he was not a rogue in grain, but only 
 a man without firmness and principle. He had 
 shpped, like many a weak fool before him, upon 
 ' the Turf,' where, in trying to make a fortune, 
 he had lost a competence ; but he was neither 
 a sneak nor a villain. There were some persons 
 under Mr. Walcot's protection {i.e. thumb) who 
 were always eager to curry favour with him by 
 telling stories against their neighbours ; but 
 Holm was not of this class. He did not pretend
 
 272 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 to look pleased when his Master and T}Tant 
 looked in at the Farm that morning, and 
 observed that tliere was a smell of spirits in the 
 parlour. 
 
 ' You have been drinking again, Gilbert — 
 don't deny it.' 
 
 ' I w^asn't agoing to deny it, sir,' answered 
 the other gloomily ; ' but when a man's down 
 on his luck, and has been harshly treated ' 
 
 ' Harshly treated ? ' interrupted Walcot. 
 ' What do you mean ? Why you might have 
 been flung into a ' 
 
 ' Hush, sir, for Heaven's sake ; there's folk 
 in the kitchen,' cried Holm, appealingly. ' When 
 I say harsh, I meant it's hard to feel that one's 
 very soul is not one's own, because one has 
 tripped just once.' 
 
 ' It w^as unfortunate, certainly, to be found 
 out in one's first fault,' observed the other, con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 It was a w^eakness in Walcot not only to 
 despise his instruments, but to let them see that 
 he despised them ; perhaps it was done in com-
 
 FERDINAND IVALCOT'S FIRST WOOING. 273 
 
 pensation for the somewhat sycophantic part he 
 had to play with Sir Eobert. 
 
 ' How are things o^oinsj at the Farm ? 
 Have you anything to tell me ? ' 
 
 ' Xothing, sir.' 
 
 ' You he. Somethinor has crone wrono", I 
 am certain. Gilbert Holm, if you ever dare to 
 
 deceive me, I'll ' He hfted his heel, and 
 
 set it down on the floor significantly. 
 
 ' There is nothing wrong at the Farm,' 
 answered the other, doggedly, ' nor wrong at 
 all, as I know of. But you told me to tell you 
 everything that took place out of the common, 
 and it was out of the common for Lady Arden 
 to come down here yesterday to visit Mr. 
 Dyneley.' 
 
 ' So it was. Holm ; you are quite right to 
 mention it,' answered ^Ir. Walcot, gently. ' So 
 her ladyship came to call on the Curate, did 
 she? Well, as vou sav, there was nothing: 
 ^vrong, let us hope, in that. \yas she long 
 here ? ' 
 
 ' A matter of more than an hour.' 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 ' And what did they talk about ? I mean 
 so far as you can guess, of course.' 
 
 ' Well, I did hear, as she went out, a word 
 dropped about Master Frank. I think she 
 came to consult Mi\ Dyneley about his going 
 to school, and that. There is no doubt he goes 
 about half broken-hearted, and very different 
 from what he used to be, cause o' Jem Groad.' 
 
 Mr. Walcot did not seem to hear the latter 
 observation. ' Mr. Dyneley had better mind 
 his own business,' observed he, meaningly. 
 
 ' Very good, sk ; shall I tell him that ? ' 
 
 ' Tell him what ? You fool ! that was 
 neither for his ears nor yours. Watch him — 
 dog him — glean all you can hear about him in 
 the parish. Do you hear ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir.' 
 
 ' Then also heed.' 
 
 With a muttered curse, Ferdinand Walcot 
 turned upon his heel, and strode away. 
 
 ' So the maternal suspicions are aroused, 
 and she is going elsewhere for counsel,' he 
 murmiu'ed to himself; 'I must look to this.
 
 FERDINAND WALCOT'S FIRST WOOING. 275 
 
 That Holm is not to be trusted. Young 
 Gresham dares to flout me — though his pride 
 will have a speedy fall. The girl Hurt was a 
 godsend to me ; but she knows it, and is there- 
 fore dangerous. I must make a clean sweep. 
 The question is — Shall it be before or after I 
 have carried off the King ? I think I am sure 
 of him. I have flattered him to the top of his 
 bent, and there needs but one bold stroke. It 
 must be struck soon, I feel. Eebellion lifts its 
 head. Why did not the waves finish their 
 work with Gresham and the girl ? My good 
 star deserted me there ; " the spirits " ' — here 
 he laughed aloud — ' forgot to aid me. And yet 
 that would have brought me no nearer to my 
 haven. It is Dyneley, the meek-faced Curate, 
 who stands in my path, not Gresham. What 
 blind moles men are, ay, and women too, whom 
 fools compare with lynxes. Lady Arden seeks 
 advice of him. '-A matter of more than an 
 hour," were the sot's words ; they must have 
 talked of other things besides Frank. I thought 
 I saw coldness in her manner this morning. 
 t2
 
 276 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 She shall pay for that. So shall they all— save 
 one Ah, Evelyn ? ' 
 
 As he stepped from the shrubbery, that hid 
 the farm biiildhigs, on to the lawn, he had come 
 suddenly upon lier, booted and furred, in a 
 scarlet mantle, and with a basket in her hand, 
 bound probably on some charitable errand to 
 the village. 
 
 ' How you frightened me, Mr. Walcot ! ' 
 exclaimed she, with a touch of irritation. 
 
 'I crave your pardon, though you startled 
 me in your turn ; I thought you were Eed 
 Piiding Hood.' 
 
 ' Well ; fancy her feelings when she met the 
 wolf,' said Evelyn, laughing, ' then you will 
 pity mine.' 
 
 ' I don't remember that she had any repug- 
 nance to the wolf. Miss Evy, when she met 
 him.' 
 
 ' True ; but she had afterwards, wdien she 
 found him out.' 
 
 ' Found him out ? ' 
 
 The colour rushed to Walcot's face as he
 
 FERDINAND WALCOT'S FIRST WOOING. 277 
 
 echoed those words ; it seemed to him for the 
 moment that this young gu^l must have been 
 listening to his late soliloquy in the shrubbery ; 
 thoucrh even in that there had been no menace 
 to herself. 
 
 The simple fact was that Evelyn, like any 
 other young person of her sex, had, wishing to 
 punish, used the first cutting w^ords that came 
 to hand. A glance at her face reassured him. 
 
 'I hope the more you '' fmd out,'' as you 
 term it, of me, Evelyn,' said he gravely, ' the 
 less you will have cause to feel repugnance.' 
 
 ' Of course I was only joking, Mr. Walcot/ 
 
 ' I hope so ; but sometimes you act towards 
 me with such cruelty that the w^ords you have 
 just employed seem hardly out of place.' 
 
 ' Cruelty ? ' She stopped amazed, and stared 
 at him. He moved, however, slowly on, and it 
 was significant of the authority he exercised 
 over her — even when she would have resented 
 it — that she moved with him. 
 
 ' Of course you did not mean to be cruel, 
 Evelyn —
 
 278 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 You, whose sweet blue eyes 
 Grow tender over drowning flies, 
 
 would willingly hurt no one's feelings. Yet 
 you hurt mine sometimes.' 
 
 Evelyn was silent ; she felt very uncomfort- 
 able. She would have given much to be 
 relieved from this tete-a-tete^ the end of which 
 she had a presentiment had by no means arrived. 
 But all the family, except Sir Eobert, were from 
 home. Lady Arden herself had taken a seat 
 in the break, thinking that her neuralgia — for 
 that was her leading disorder for the present — 
 would be benefited by a drive over the moor. 
 Even the Great Baba was at that moment 
 graciously expressing his approbation of the 
 works of Natiu-e, as viewed from that vehicle. 
 Evelyn herself would have gone, but for a 
 promise she had given to read to a sick girl 
 in the village. 
 
 ' I cannot think how I could have hurt 
 your feelings, Mr. Walcot,' she answered, 
 vaguely. 
 
 ' I dare say not ; but with me it is very
 
 FERDINAND WALCOT'S FIRST WOOING. 279 
 
 different. I am always thinking of yours ; and 
 when there is any shght put upon you, I am 
 filled with indignation.' 
 
 ' I am very much obliged to you, Mr 
 Walcot ; but I am not aware that anybody 
 does put slights upon me.' 
 
 ' Then vou must be bhnd indeed.' 
 
 */ 
 
 She stopped again ; and this time he stopped 
 too. They were half-way down the avenue, 
 beyond which he did not wish their walk 
 together to extend, and he had not yet had his 
 say. 
 
 ' Blind, Mr. Walcot ? What do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' I mean that the man to whom you are 
 engaged — ^or at least to whom common report, 
 and the fixed intentions of your step-father has 
 assigned you — is carrying on a flirtation with 
 your governess under your own roof — I could 
 almost say under your own eyes.' 
 
 Evelyn turned scarlet : silent for a moment, 
 she presently broke forth with ' You talk of 
 shghts, Mr. Walcot ; but this is an imperti- 
 nence ! '
 
 28o UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 'Nay, pardon me. It is most pertinent 
 both to your own interests and those of all 
 concerned. Am I to understand that you do 
 not credit what I say, or that you are already 
 aware of Mr. Gresham's faithlessness, and have 
 forgiven it ? ' 
 
 ' I am aware that he loves Miss Hurt, sir.' 
 
 ' I concluded as much,' answered Walcot, 
 gravely ; ' and, however much his own conduct 
 is to be deprecated, I am rejoiced to find that it 
 has not cost you a pang. Sir Eobert, however, 
 I need not say, takes a very different view of 
 the matter.' 
 
 ' Does papa know of it, then ? ' inquired 
 Evelyn, anxiously ; her solicitude upon Gres- 
 ham's account throwing her for the moment off 
 her guard. 
 
 ' He suspects there is something wrong, and 
 resents — exceedingly resents — the duplicity his 
 nephew has practised. He has more than once 
 consulted me on the matter, Evelyn ; and really 
 I scarce knew how to advise him. I must 
 confess that indignation on your account has
 
 FERDINAND WALCOTS FIRST WOOING. 281 
 
 prompted me to acquiesce in the severest 
 measures ; but if the young man's conduct has 
 not displeased you, and if you wish him to be 
 dealt with less in justice than in mercy, so far 
 as my influence goes you may of course com- 
 mand it. OtherAvise, so great is Sir Eobert's 
 displeasure that it is probable that a branch 
 will be lopped off the family tree.' 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' inquired Evelyn, 
 greatly moved. ' That George will be dis- 
 inherited .^ ' 
 
 Mr. Walcot shrugged his shoulders. ' I 
 only know that Sir Eobert was making his will 
 last night ; ^^ith the contents of it I am, of 
 course, unacquainted ; but it was the disturb- 
 ance of his mind in consequence of it that has 
 made him ill.' 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Walcot, I know you do not like 
 him ; but I entreat you — I implore you — to 
 spare poor George ! ' 
 
 ' To spare him, Evelyn ? You speak as if I 
 had been adding fuel to his uncle's indis^nation. 
 As to liking him — how could I do otherwise
 
 282 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 than despise the man who having (as I 
 thought) the greatest blessing which earth 
 could grant within his reach, could contempt- 
 uously spurn it? I was wrong, it seems, in 
 this particular: you never loved him, and he 
 knew it.' 
 
 ' I have loved him as a brother ; but as a 
 brother only.' 
 
 ' Just so ; and, as his sister, you would wish 
 to shield him from the consequences of his own 
 duplicity. For your sake, I will do my best for 
 him. If he were the greatest scoundrel on 
 earth, Evelyn, and though duty, honour, con- 
 science, all combined within me to demand his 
 punishment, I should do my best for him — for 
 your sake.' 
 
 ' You are very good, Mr. Walcot ; but ' 
 
 She hesitated ; she felt somehow that she 
 was laying herself under an obligation, not 
 indeed unjustifiable, but which might demand 
 some reciprocity that it was out of her power to 
 grant. 
 
 ' No ; I am not good, Evelyn,' answered her
 
 FERDINAND . WALCOTS FIRST WOOING, 283 
 
 companion, gravely ; ' or at least not half good 
 enough for the object I have in view.' 
 
 And he looked at her with tenderness — a 
 genuine tenderness — that froze the blood in 
 her veins. She felt unequal to reply to him, 
 and yet of what a monstrous nature seemed 
 the consent for which her silence might be 
 taken ! 
 
 ' Your words to me this day, dear Evelyn,' 
 he went on, ' have taken from my heart a load, 
 the existence of which you little guessed — of 
 which I Jiave not dared hitherto to breathe a 
 syllable ; but now the time is come ! You 
 have just confessed to me that the obstacle to 
 my happiness, which I deemed insuperable, has 
 no existence — that, in a word, you are heart- 
 whole. It is so, is it not ? ' 
 
 ' I — you — ^ir. Walcot ! You have no 
 right to catechise me thus,' she stammered. 
 
 ' Xay ; every man has the right to ask the 
 question upon which hinges his hopes of happi- 
 ness. You may say it is mere audacity in my 
 case : I admit it. " Love turns even the
 
 284 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 coward's heart to steel ; " and I am no coward. 
 If your affections are elsewhere engaged — as I 
 once believed them to be — that is another 
 matter ; if they are not — I understand you to 
 say that at least you have formed no other 
 encraorement ? Good. Then I have the ridit 
 to saj, " I love you, Evelyn." ' 
 
 ' You have no right whatever so to do,' 
 answered Evelyn, haughtily. 'I am sure that 
 if papa was aware of your having done so, he 
 would be very angry.' 
 
 ' No doubt he would, because he believes 
 you to be engaged to his nephew. He feels, as 
 I did, indignant with him, mainly upon your 
 account, though also vexed — and justly so — with 
 the disregard that has been paid to his own 
 wishes. If, however, you wish me to disclose 
 to him the real state of the case, I will do so ; 
 and in that case I should not despair of gaining 
 his consent to say to you what I have just 
 ventured to say.' 
 
 ' You might say it a thousand times, Mr. 
 Walcot,' answered Evelyn, firmly ; ' I should
 
 FERDINAND WALCOT'S FIRST WOOING. 285 
 
 only have one answer to give yon — in the 
 negative.' 
 
 ' You think so now, and very naturally. I 
 am not a young man, it is true, nor formed, per- 
 haps, by Nature to please a young girl's eye ; but 
 when you come to know me better as a free man 
 — I mean as one who finds himself for the first 
 time at liberty to manifest his heart's devotion — 
 you will think better of me. Again, I am a poor 
 man ; to you I doubtless seem, indeed, but a 
 dependent upon the bounty of your step-father. 
 But this is not quite so. I would never ask 
 you to link yourself to poverty, for that in your 
 case — with your tastes and habits, and organ- 
 isation so rare and delicate — would be an ill- 
 assorted match indeed. I have talents, of which 
 I will not boast ; let it suffice to say that they 
 will procure me, whenever I choose to exert 
 them, much more than a competence. When I 
 next venture to appeal to you, Evelyn, it will 
 be as a rich man, and with your step-father's full 
 consent.' 
 
 ' You may save yourself that trouble, Mr.
 
 286 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 Walcot,' she answered, coldly. ' Eiches will 
 never win a true woman's heart, believe me.' 
 
 ' That is true ; but they will smooth the way 
 to win it. Take your own mother's case : can 
 any one be a happier wife than she is? more 
 loved, more respected ? and yet it would be 
 mere affectation to deny that Sir Eobert's wealth 
 smoothed his way to her! 
 
 ' This is ungenerous — ungentlemanly.' 
 
 ' It is the plain truth, Evelyn, and you know 
 it. Of course there are certain sympathetic 
 elements wanting which renders the union less 
 perfect than it might be ; I flatter myself that it 
 would not be so in our case. I have studied 
 your character for years ; it is infinitely superior 
 to my own, but I shall grow to it. My faults 
 are many, but I shall redeem them. You look 
 incredulous ; but strength of will is one of my 
 few virtues.' 
 
 'I do not doubt that,' Evelyn flashed out 
 with a significance that was almost fierce in its 
 intensity. 
 
 ' And you are right,' he answered, calmly.
 
 FERDINAND WALCOT'S FIRST WOOING, 287 
 
 ' When I have set my heart upon a thmg, 
 it is always accomphshed ; some things are 
 more difficult than others, but it is only a 
 question of time.' 
 
 Evelyn shuddered. A momentary smile 
 crossed Mr. Walcot's lip ; it seemed to the 
 fowler that the struggling bird already felt itself 
 enmeshed. 
 
 ' Your confidence m your own powers is for 
 once misplaced, Mr. Walcot,' answered the girl, 
 in trembling tones. ' I can never love you, as 
 you wash ; and I only fear you upon another's 
 account, not on my own.' 
 
 'I should hope not, Evelyn. I wish you 
 not to fear, but to pity me. I will not 
 importune you further ; much less will I take 
 your thoughtless ' iSTo ' as the result of mature 
 reflection. I should continue to love you more 
 than all the world beside as long as I lived, 
 even if my devotion bore no fruit. But it will 
 bear fruit. You will be mine some day, and will 
 never regret, if I may not say " Yoiu* choice " 
 — then I will say " Your Fate." '
 
 288 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 Evelyn stood like one turned to stone ; the 
 quiet firmness of the man's words, deUvered not 
 only with the consciousness of strength but the 
 full force of conviction, appalled her. He 
 seemed less hke an unwelcome lover making 
 his appeal than a soothsayer foretelling her 
 doom. 
 
 ' For the present, Evelyn,' he added, ' I will 
 say no more. We shall, I conclude, each keep 
 our own counsels ; you for another's sake (not 
 mine, I know), and I for yours. May all good 
 angels guide and guard you ! ' 
 
 A groom was coming through the gates 
 whose approach he had doubtless observed and 
 calculated to a nicety , at all events, there was 
 no time for his companion to reply to him. 
 He lifted his hat, and moved slowly towards 
 the Hall, while she went on her way half-dazed 
 and stunned. She was conscious that she had 
 been far from ready in her rephes to him, 
 though she had certainly given him not the 
 slightest ground for his monstrous confidence. 
 But their contest had not been on equal terms ;
 
 FERDINAND WALCOT'S FIRST WOOING. 289 
 
 she had been, as Mr. Gilbert Hohn would have 
 technically expressed it, ' heavily handicapped ' 
 on account of certain previous performances, 
 especially her supposed engagement to Gresham. 
 If she had set Walcot at defiance, as her feelings 
 had prompted her to do, it was plain that she 
 would have ruined George. The unexpected- 
 ness of Walcot's appeal had also prevented her 
 from exercising her judgment ; but she now re- 
 membered many little circumstances — ^mostly 
 mere pecuharities in his tone and manner of 
 late — which had now their full significance, and 
 might have put her on her guard. But what 
 alarmed her most was the openness of 
 Walcot's avowal, upon which she felt quite sure 
 he would never have ventiu:ed had he not 
 secured himself fi-om all danger from without. 
 It was terrible to be silent on such a matter, 
 because, though the man knew the necessity 
 for her silence, it seemed to be almost affordinor 
 encouragement to him. She had said that she 
 did not fear him on her own account ; but this 
 was scarcely true, for she felt an absolute terror 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 UNDER ONE ROOF. 
 
 of liis power and persistency. Yet, whatever 
 his confidence in the result, her own resolve was 
 still more fixed. If there had not been another 
 man in the world save Ferdinand Walcot, she 
 would rather have died than marry him — and 
 there was another man. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
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 CHATTO 6- WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 27 
 
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 CHATTO ^ WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 31 
 
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 Fated to be Free. By Jean ingelow. 
 
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 The Evil Eye. By Katharine S. Macquoid. 
 
 Number Seventeen. By Henry Kingsley. 
 
 Open I Sesame I By Florence Marryat. 
 
 Whiteladies. By Mrs. Oliphant. 
 
 T^ie Best of Husbands. By james payn. 
 
 Walter's Word. By James Payn*. 
 
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