?■ 
 
 
 a I B RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 UN IVLR.5ITY 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
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 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
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 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/waitforendstory01lemo
 
 WAIT FOE THE END 
 
 A STOET. 
 
 MARK LEMON. 
 
 IN THEEE VOLUMES. 
 YOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 BEADBUEY AND EVANS, 11, BOUVEEIE STEEET. 
 
 1863. 
 
 IThe Right of Translation is reserved,']
 
 LONDON : 
 BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, ■VVHITEFRIARS.
 
 y. / 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 t 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE END — THE HALF-BROTHERS . 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 INTRODUCES JACK SPRAGGATT AND HIS SKELETON, 
 
 JASPER JELLIFER, AND THE MILLER RAY . . . IS 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 JASPER JELLIFER PROPOSES TO PLAY FOR A GREAT 
 STAKE, AND THE MILLER SHARES THE RISK . 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 , MR. JELLIFER PROVIDES AN OFFERING, AND RAY, THE 
 
 ^^" MILLER, OFFICIATES AS A PRIEST OF MAMMON . 57 
 
 S^ CHAPTER V. 
 
 V SACRILEGE AND MATRIMONY AT MORDEN ... 87 
 
 ■N CHAPTER VL 
 
 LUCY MAKES A CONFIDANT OF GERARD, AND HE BRINGS 
 
 JACK TO CONFESSION 105 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE HIGGLER APPEARS IN A NEW CHARACTER, AND 
 
 DISCOVERS SOME UNUSUAL GRIST AT THE MILL . 132
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PAGE 
 GEKAKD HAS NEED OF TKUE FKIENDS, AND FINDS THEM. 
 
 NOT SO MILLER EAY .... . . 163 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE FELON RAY DOES MORE MISCIIIEF THAN HE BAR- 
 GAINS FOR 193 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 LUCY SPRAGGATT FINDS A NEW LOVER, AND REJECTS 
 
 HIM 221 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 GILBERT ATTAINS HIS MAJORITY. — THERE ARE STRANGE 
 
 MERRY-MAKINGS AT NORWOLD HALL , . . 246 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 JACK SPRAGGATT SURPRISES HIS NEIGHBOURS, AND SEES 
 
 THE LAST OF NORWOLD HALL 2C)7
 
 WAIT FOE THE END. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE END — THE HALF- 
 BROTHERS. 
 
 September the 30th, 18 — , was a great day for 
 
 College. It had scored 169 against 140 on 
 
 the return match with M , and as Gerard 
 
 Norwold had bowled or caught out nine wickets 
 in the first innings^ and seven in the second^ his 
 " side '^ had invited him to supper at Charlie 
 Craven's, who was the fortunate possessor of the 
 largest rooms in the College. 
 
 Gerard Norwold was what is usually called 
 a good sort of fellow. He attended chapel and 
 lectures pretty regularly, gave no great promise 
 of future distinction, was a first-rate cricketer, a
 
 '4 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 good runner, an accomplished horseman, and had 
 been known to drive a tandem. He was a general 
 favourite, and those who knew him intimately 
 had for him the warmest regard. His half- 
 brother Gilbert was strikingly opposed to him in 
 appearance and pursuits. He was an extravagant 
 dresser, much given to purchasing showy jewel- 
 lery, addicted to betting, billiards, and card-play- 
 ing. Indeed, he carried his passion for the latter 
 vice so far, that it had been rumoured more than 
 once, that he and another man of the same 
 College had made a bank for rouge-et-noi7\ He 
 was known to have lost and won large sums, and 
 his brother Gerard had often remonstrated with 
 him on a course which had compelled frequent 
 application to home for money, and led to more 
 than one unpleasant interview with the College 
 authorities. It had been hinted, also, that upon 
 one occasion when a Newmarket favourite had 
 died on the evening preceding the race, Gilbert 
 Norwold, having had private information of the 
 dangerous condition of the horse, had improved 
 the occasion to his own advantage. The brothers
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 3 
 
 were in fact so widely separated by their tastes 
 and dispositions, that they were rarely seen to- 
 gether, and Gilbert had not been asked to the 
 supper-party at Charlie Craven^s, although many 
 men of other Colleges had received invitations. 
 
 At eight o^ clock Charlie Craven's rooms were 
 thrown open to receive company. His neat little 
 camp bedstead was soon covered with the caps 
 and hats of the guests, who scrambled for places, 
 and gave assurance by their loud laughter and noisy 
 ejaculations that a merry evening was to succeed 
 to a day of triumph. Charlie Craven was called 
 to the chair by acclamation, and as a matter of 
 course, the guest of the evening, Gerard Norwold, 
 occupied the place of honour beside him. The 
 attractiveness of the viands produced a momen- 
 tary lull in the vociferous storm which broke forth 
 again with redoubled force during the distribu- 
 tion of the good things upon the table, and it 
 was not until the entire party had settled down 
 to their work of destruction that moderate 
 weather prevailed. One generous fellow, how- 
 ever, who had come up the same year as Gerard, 
 
 B 2
 
 4 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 and who had^ for his prowess and social qualities 
 the highest admiration, was not to be quieted. 
 He had knelt down in the Cricket-tent on the 
 declaration of the score, and vowed '^to pour a 
 libation'^ whenever the name of Gerard Norwold 
 should be mentioned that day. The necessity 
 for fulfilling his vow had occurred so frequently, 
 that a naturally strong head had yielded to the 
 potency of the offerings, and continued to emit 
 unlimited melody prematurely and vexatiously. 
 At the persuasion of two judicious friends, Py lades 
 consented to retire into the bed-room, and was 
 subsequently reported to be as well as could be 
 expected among the hats and caps on Charlie 
 Craven's camp bedstead. 
 
 The tables having been cleared and glasses of 
 divers fashions placed thereon, bowls of steaming 
 Bishop and frothing milk-punch succeeded, and 
 the revel began in earnest. When an assembly of 
 orators insist on the right to be heard at the same 
 time, it is difficult for the most practised ear to 
 note accurately the gist of any individual speaker's 
 observations, and as no conglomeration of words
 
 WAIT" FOR THE END. 5 
 
 would convey a notion of the universal conver- 
 sation of Charlie Craven's guests, the reader 
 must be content to remain as uninstructed as 
 he would have been had he been present. At 
 last something like unanimity prevailed, and 
 the cry for a soug rose above the general 
 hubbub. The suggestion was favourably re- 
 •ceived, and the request so earnestly enforced 
 that it seemed for some time that the demand 
 was considered equal to the supply. By much 
 hammering on the part of the Chairman and his 
 adherents, and the loudest vociferations for silence 
 on the part of the most persistent disturbers, 
 vocal harmony prevailed. 
 
 The song had been heard a hundred times 
 before within these old college walls, but its 
 charm seemed undiminished by age, and could 
 only have been indebted for its universal and 
 university popularity to its unintelligibility. 
 Ex. gr, 
 
 " I'll sing you a one ? 
 Green grow the rushes ! 
 What is your one ? 
 When your one is all alone 
 It ever more shall be so.
 
 6 WAIT rOE- THE END. 
 
 " I'll sing you a two ! 
 Green grow the rushes ! 
 What is your two 1 
 Two, two lily-white boys 
 Clothed all in green ! 
 When your one is all alone 
 It ever more shall be so." 
 
 And so on until it promised to monopolise the 
 remainder of the evening. When the welcome cry 
 of " Chori-us" was heard, every man gave tongue 
 according to his fancy, producing a discord that 
 would have driven the dummiest Mus : Doc : crazy. 
 The applause which followed can only be fitly de- 
 scribed as the concentrated essence of sound, and 
 it was exciting to behold the glasses and candle- 
 sticks and other moveables upon the table dance 
 to the drumming of the enraptured assembly. 
 
 The Chairman rose. His position was instantly 
 acknowledged by many kind inquiries after his 
 health, and the expression of anxious doubts, 
 whether he felt himself equal to the situation. 
 Having repeatedly and most good-humouredly 
 satisfied his questioners upon both points, he made 
 nine attempts to propose the toast of the evening, 
 seldom getting further than " Gentlemen, I rise.^'
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 7 
 
 Concluding at length that eloquence would be 
 unappreciated at that moment, he contented him- 
 self with filling a goblet to the brim {loud cheers), 
 and shouting as only an under-graduate can shout 
 in a confined space and oppressive atmosphere, 
 " Gerard Norwold's health and wickets ! '^ 
 
 Then up rose every man in answer to the 
 pledge, and as 
 
 " The war-horse at the trumpet's sound, 
 Erects his mane and neighs and paws the ground," 
 
 so each loud hurrah ! excited those convivial 
 spirits to mount the chairs, and ultimately to 
 set foot upon the tables, until the oppressed 
 mahogany, staggering beneath the weight, upset 
 one of the sconces into the Bishop bowl, and 
 rendered unstable the positions of '^ slip '' and 
 " longstop,^^ who, clinging to each other for sup- 
 port, fell together to the floor. Song followed 
 song, and cheer succeeded cheer; but amid all 
 this merry riot not one unseemly word was 
 spoken, nor was one ungentle act committed; 
 none " drunk, but nobly mad,^' and all resulting 
 from the unrestrained enjoyment of generous
 
 8 WAIT rOR THE END. 
 
 natures^ as yet uncorrupted and unsaddened by- 
 contact with the world. 
 
 It was now eleven o^ clock, and the house rose. 
 It became necessary to rouse Pylades from his 
 slumber before Craven could " speed his parting 
 guest.^' Pity, earnest pity, for the loss of such 
 an evening saved Pylades from making atone- 
 ment for smashed beavers and broken trenchers, 
 and more than one generous hand proffered 
 beakers of hock and soda or some more power- 
 ful stimulant. 
 
 Pylades — his name was Leyton, now perfectly 
 recovered from his temporary obfuscation — and 
 Gerard walked leisurely towards their respective 
 rooms in the quadrangle. The night was sultry, 
 and many of the windows were opened, though 
 lights shone only from two or three. 
 
 "My brother has a visitor to-night,^' said 
 Gerard, as they approached a room on the 
 ground-floor, and whose window was open and 
 lighted from within. Gerard drew aside the 
 curtain with the intention of wishing his brother 
 and his guest good night. Before he could
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 9 
 
 speak, however, something he saw in his brother's 
 room alarmed or distressed him so greatly, that 
 he seized Leyton's arm as though to save him- 
 self from falling. Leyton naturally inquired the 
 cause of this sudden change ; but Gerard re- 
 mained silent, still grasping the arm of his 
 friend and hurrying from the window. 
 
 When they reached Leyton's rooms, Gerard 
 asked for drink of any kind, and it was not until 
 he had emptied a large water-goblet filled with 
 wine that he appeared capable of speech. 
 
 " Leyton,^' he said, " if what I have seen to- 
 night in my brother's room be true, I and he 
 and all of us who bear his name are most 
 unhappy. Ask me nothing more to-night, but I 
 promise you, that if I require aid or counsel, I 
 will come to you. Do not go to bed for half an 
 hour — I may ret urn.'' 
 
 Gerard hastened to his brother's room. The light 
 still shone within, but the outer door was closed 
 and fastened. Gerard knocked violently, and 
 called for admission at the same time. When 
 Gilbert opened the door, he was evidently startled
 
 10 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 at the expression of his brother's face, and could 
 not forbear asking what had happened ? Gerard 
 did not reply, but seated himself at the table 
 where a freshman, named Mariott, was sitting, 
 half stupefied by the strong wine he had drank 
 and the excitement of the play in which he had 
 been engaged, evidently, as there were cards upon 
 the table. 
 
 " Well, Mariott,'' said Gerard, as soon as he 
 could speak, " you will not listen to advice ; you 
 will not be warned, but are here again losing 
 your money, and muddling your brains .'' 
 
 " Is that all you have come to say ? " remarked 
 Gilbert. " The morning would have been time 
 enough, surely, for lectures/' 
 
 Gerard did not reply to his brother, but spoke 
 on. ^'^You have lost again to-night, Mariott; 
 you have lost largely.'-' 
 
 " I can pay what I have lost, Mr. Norwold,'* 
 said Mariott rising, and taking a roll of notes 
 from a silken note-case, he counted about thirty 
 pounds and threw them upon the table. 
 
 " Take that money again, Mariott," said
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 11 
 
 Gerard — "at least until to-morrow — until my 
 brother asks you for it/^ 
 
 " I always pay my debts of honour imme- 
 diately/' answered tlie half tipsy loser, '^ and I 
 allow no one to dictate to me on such a matter. 
 Good night, Norwold, it is getting late, and as 
 your brother seems disposed for a family row, I 
 am in the way — Good night/'' 
 
 Gilbert did not seek to stay Mariott, but when 
 he had gone he closed the door, and turning 
 abruptly to his brother, said : 
 
 " Gerard Norwold, attend to what I am about 
 to say. If we are to continue on terms of 
 friendship, you must leave off these impertinent 
 meddlings and intrusions. I admit no right of 
 yours to choose my friends or to regulate my 
 amusements. You have your pursuits, I have 
 mine, and if I am again annoyed as I have been 
 to-night, I shall cut with you altogether." 
 
 "Have you done?" asked Gerard, after a pause. 
 
 " For the present," was the reply. 
 
 " Then hear me, Gilbert Norwold, and perhaps 
 for the last time. Did you not bear my father's
 
 13 '^AlT FOR THE END. 
 
 name, you should not hear me at all, and I would 
 cut with you altogether ; but as anything which 
 affects your honour affects him — affects me — I 
 have come here to-night with the determination 
 to check you in your disgraceful practices, and 
 compel you to make reparation to those whom 
 you have injured/' 
 
 Gilbert's face became livid, and his lips trem- 
 bled either with rage or with the dread of the 
 revelation his brother was about to make. He 
 was not left long in suspense. 
 
 '^Gilbert Norwold, you are a cheat, a mean 
 despicable cheat. Don't speak ! Don't move. 
 I am the stronger man, and I will hold you in 
 your chair and tell you of your villany. You 
 have won large sums of the poor idiot who has 
 just left us, not only by your greater skill in 
 such miserable acquirements, but by stooping 
 to play unfairly. You would deuy it — I see it in 
 your face — but I have had the evidence of my 
 own eyes to prove this horrible accusation. Pass- 
 ing your window to-night, I drew aside the 
 curtain to wish you a brotherly good night — I
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 13 
 
 saw you deliberately place at your back one card 
 and substitute for it another which you had pre- 
 viously placed behind you. I heard you exclaim 
 'Game again !^ and what I saw — what I heard, I 
 dare no more keep secret, nor would I, than I 
 would the knowledge of a murder.^' 
 
 Gilbert was taken completely by surprise. He 
 did not dare even to deny his brother's accusation, 
 and could only stammer out — " So, Mr. Gerard 
 Norwold descends to play t?he spy upon me." 
 
 " Tush ! '^ exclaimed Gerard, " I have told 
 you how I came by my knowledge of your dis- 
 honour, and you believe me. Now, no evasion. 
 You had better be truthful for the future. How 
 much have you won of Mariott ? '"' 
 
 Gilbert made no reply, but stood gazing 
 sulkily upon the ground. 
 
 " Gilbert, this matter shall not rest until 
 restitution has been made. If you have not 
 the means of doing so, let me assist you. If 
 you refuse, I have only one other course. I 
 shall communicate with our father. You know 
 him — ^you know t^at if he found you capable of
 
 14 WAIT FOE, THE END. 
 
 this crime, lie would turn you on the world, even 
 if it broke his own proud heart to do so." 
 
 Gilbert still remained silent. 
 
 " What is your determination ? " asked Gerard, 
 after a pause of some moments. 
 
 '^ One question," said Gilbert. " Would you, 
 supposing I deny this charge — would you, regard- 
 less of my mother — I do not say of me — would 
 you, tell this to my father ? " 
 
 It was now Gerard's i turn to be silent for some 
 moments. He then said, taking his brother's hand, 
 " Gilbert, your question, I am sure, does not 
 require an answer. You will not make such an 
 alternative possible. You will trust your brother, 
 and tell me the worst. I will help you to the 
 uttermost. Come ! do not hesitate. Speak the 
 truth." 
 
 Gilbert went to his writing-desk, and from a 
 secret drawer within it, brought forth a small 
 note-book in which he had put down his late 
 card winnings and his earlier losses. 
 
 The latter had been large, and not until the 
 name of Mariott appeared on the page had his
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 15 
 
 gains been great. Gerard, after a time, his dis- 
 tress rendering calculation difficult, reckoned up 
 the sums Gilbert had obtained from his victim, and 
 the total reached to nearly two hundred pounds. 
 
 " The amount is large/' said Gerard, " larger 
 than I had expected, but it must be paid. We 
 must write home for money." 
 
 " That will be useless,'^ replied Gilbert, " at 
 least so far as I am concerned. Sir John has 
 refused to send me more. I have had money 
 unknown to you, for I have lost considerably by 
 betting, and the trustees of one of my tradesmen 
 have been pressing me. I can get no more." 
 
 '^ You must ask your mother, then, for help," 
 said Gerard. 
 
 Gilbert shook his head. *' Useless ! useless ! " 
 he replied. " Her pin-money is not great, and I 
 have alread}^ had a hundred pounds from her." 
 
 Gerard was puzzled. " I dare not ask for more 
 than fifty pounds, as I promised not to exceed my 
 allowance. What is to be done ? " 
 
 "There is one chance," said Gilbert, after a 
 pause. "Jasper Jellifer has lent me money at
 
 16 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 times, and which my mother has repaid him. — He 
 may have the means to help usJ^ 
 
 Gerard looked up suddenly. 
 
 " I mean help me, although he told me that 
 my mother^s security was of no value. I think 
 he would assist if he had your promise to see him 
 repaid. In fact he said as much." 
 
 Gerard held out his hand to Gilbert, and 
 instantly proferred to do all that was required 
 provided the money could be obtained. 
 
 " Very well, then," said Gilbert. " I will write 
 to him to-morrow, and go down to Morden on the 
 following day, and if I find Sir John away from 
 home, I will see my mother." 
 
 The course of action having been determined, 
 Gerard proceeded at once to write the letter. 
 He was unskilled in such compositions, and it 
 ■was not until he had made more than one 
 attempt that he succeeded in completing the 
 important document. 
 
 It was comprised in three short lines, with 
 Gerard^s signature attached, and yet it changed 
 the current of more lives than one.
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 17 
 
 Leyton remained at his open window waiting 
 the return of Gerard, his well-beloved friend. 
 ^' All right, old boy," said Gerard, very cheerfully. 
 " I cannot tell you what I have been saying to 
 Gilbert : but it's all right. Good night." 
 
 Often and often, in after years, Gerard Norwold 
 remembered this parting from his true Pylades, 
 and regretted bitterly his silence upon what had 
 passed in his brother's rooms. 
 
 Gilbert put out his lamp, and threw himself 
 upon his bed dressed as he was. He could not 
 sleep, but again and again he went over the ex- 
 citing scene just enacted, and strange unthank- 
 fulness ! he always ended by repeating Gerard's 
 words: "I have only one other course, I shall 
 communicate with our father." 
 
 That thought was the last in his mind when he 
 fell asleep.
 
 •CHAPTER II. 
 
 INTRODUCES JACK SPRAGGATT AND HIS SKELETON, 
 JASPER JELLIFER, AND THE MILLER RAY. 
 
 No one entering Morden at its north end 
 could fail to observe a large old-fashioned house, 
 built, it was said, as early as the time of James the 
 First. On one side was a large pond, whereon 
 floated plump geese and ducks, like argosies, to 
 be freighted hereafter with savoury stuffing, whilst 
 overhead blue-rocks and runts, jacobines, nuns, 
 and tumblers were gyrating and traversing to and 
 fro from a spacious dovecote, surmounted by a gilt 
 vane. Its sloping roof, covered with grey stone 
 healing, dotted here and there with tufts of stone- 
 crop and houseleek, harmonised well with its white 
 front, relieved by oak frame-work, painted black, 
 and filled with latticed windows. A large porch of 
 carved oak, with seats on either side, and partly 
 concealed by creeping rose-trees and jasmine.
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 19 
 
 marked the principal entrance, which was ap- 
 proached from the road by a broad gravel path, 
 bordered by flower beds and well kept lawns, 
 studded about with clumps of evergreens and 
 flowering shrubs. Two giant elms, which over- 
 shadowed the garden gate, gave their name to 
 the place, which had been occupied for several 
 generations by the family of the Spraggatts, but 
 the freehold itself belonged to Sir John Norwold.. 
 The homestead of the farm was near the house, 
 partly hidden by a grove of elms, whereon a 
 colony of rooks had been long established. We 
 shall have much to do presently with the inmates 
 of this old house, now occupied by John^ 
 Spraggatt — Jack Spraggatt he was called usually 
 — his widowed mother, and two fair sisters. 
 
 The Elms was about half a mile from the 
 High Street of the neighbouring town, which 
 extended nearly to its boundary meadow. Mor- 
 den was an improving place, and had taken 
 a fancy to march southwards, so that the High 
 Street, which had formerly been the principal 
 place of trade, had fallen into poverty, being 
 
 o2
 
 20 WAIT FOE IHE END. 
 
 separated from the thriving market place and 
 New Street by the bridge, which crossed the 
 shallow river flowing through the town. The 
 Town Hall, however, still gave an importance to 
 High Street; and at election times, or on cor- 
 poration festivals and ceremonials, the old street 
 held up its head again, and claimed its place in 
 Morden. The houses in the market place had 
 grown up at various dates, and had been built 
 without any attempt at uniformity, so that the 
 old church, which stood in one corner, and had 
 been frequently repaired and beautified, accord- 
 ing to the taste of the church-wardens for the 
 time being, did not appear such a mass of incon- 
 gruity as it would have done had its neighbours 
 been more regular in their construction. The 
 shaft of the old cross had been kept in tolerable 
 repair since its conversion to protestantism, and 
 looked picturesque enough on market days when 
 surrounded by the butter sellers, generally far- 
 mers' daughters, and who always appeared, if not 
 in their Sunday clothes, at least in their second 
 best. We miss those rustic beauties sadly now-
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 21 
 
 a-days from English market-places : tliey passed 
 away wlieu Capital bought up the small farmers, 
 and turned out their little households to seek 
 for other occupations, or new homes in the new 
 world. The old farm-houses and their small home- 
 steads still remain here and there, but changed, 
 how changed ! from what they were. The parlour- 
 kitchen, with its clean brick floor, the cosy 
 ingle, where the bright iron dogs glistened in the 
 sun in summer time, giving place in winter to 
 those of ruder make, when the crackling log 
 blazed upon the hearth, the well-stored bacon- 
 rack above your head, that told of savoury broils 
 adorned with eggs like marigolds, the corner 
 cupboard, which hid away the choicest crockery 
 (heir-looms reserved for high days and holi- 
 days), the well-polished oaken dresser, on whose 
 shelves were ranged pewter and blue delft plates, 
 kept for the same high occasions ; — (the wooden 
 platter was thought good enough for working 
 days ;) — the square rush-bottomed chairs, broad 
 enough to seat a Falstaff at his ease ; the eight- 
 day clock, whose tick — the voice of time — could.
 
 22 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 in the stillness of tlie night, be heard in distant 
 chambers — are only memories. The carter and 
 the ploughman, hard worked and ill paid, are now 
 the men in possession, and manage someway to 
 labour and live. No doubt the change is for the 
 better; all changes are so now-a-days ; but those 
 were not evil times, when the rustic toiler was 
 certain of a coarse breakfast and supper of bull- 
 broth and brown bread, a liberal dinner of fat 
 bacon and strong cabbage in the farmer's outer 
 kitchen, and a hard, warm bed, in the farmer's 
 garret. God helps those toilers some way in our 
 money-loving times, as they bear their lot so 
 patiently. 
 
 In one corner of the market place was the shop 
 of Jasper Jellifer. He was not particular as to 
 the commodities he sold, and they ranged from 
 peppermint drops to mill-stones. There were few 
 wants of the farmer or the farmer's womankind 
 that Jasper could not satisfy out of his omnium 
 gatherum of a shop, and being a smooth-spoken 
 fellow, he rarely lost a customer that had once 
 given him a trial. He was a shrewd man, no
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 23 
 
 doubt^ and never took liis eye off the main chance, 
 as it is called, and when his neighbours had small 
 difficulties which baffled their own ingenuity to 
 overcome, Jasper was the man they consulted. 
 When asked, he always gave advice, generally of 
 a practical character, and the knowledge he thus 
 obtained concerning many of his neighbours' 
 affairs, invested him with an influence which he 
 failed not to turn to his own profit. Always in a 
 fair way, however, for though Jasper was known to 
 drive a hard bargain, he gave good weight and just 
 measure in all things. Still he was not a popular 
 man with his fellow town's folk, with whom he 
 rarely sought a close intimacy, and many who 
 had profited by his shrewdness and caution, spoke 
 of Jasper as a screw or a close-shaver, or a 
 money-grubber, and in truth he deserved those 
 appelations, for no man ate at his board or drank 
 of his cup. Philanthropic ladies and gentlemen 
 in those days had not learned the art of being 
 charitable at the expense of other people's 
 pockets, or they would have called in vain on 
 Jasper Jellifer. When a fire destroyed the tools
 
 24 WAir FOR THE END. 
 
 of seven poor carpenters^ and the market place 
 made a subscription, Jasper avoided giving a 
 shilling on the pretence that he had no change, 
 and declined to put his name to the subscription 
 list in* case he should forget it. Being much 
 pressed, at last he contributed in kind, and pre- 
 sented a few second-hand tools for the benefit of 
 the sufferers. He did love money, no doubt of it, 
 and the passion became stronger and stronger as 
 he grew older and richer. 
 
 We said that no man ever shared his hospi- 
 tality. We retract. We should have said that 
 Raymond Ray, the miller, was Jasper's crony, 
 and of late had been a frequent visitor and 
 guest. And this intimacy was somewhat strange, 
 as Ray was not a native of the place, but had 
 come from the neighbourhood of London to 
 work the water-mill outside the town. Nobody 
 knew anything about him, but he was a push- 
 ing fellow, and having money at his command^ 
 he soon made his way with the good people 
 of Morden. He was rather a loose liver, it was 
 said, and, being a bachelor, and seemingly inclined
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 25 
 
 to keep so, the scandal-mongers over their gossip- 
 water did not spare him. His mill was turned by 
 the stream which flowed through Norwold Park, 
 and formed a pretty object as seen from the 
 library window of the Hall. Looking also from 
 the footbridge which crossed the water near the 
 entrance to the park, it would have made a good 
 subject for a painter. Some limes planted upon the 
 margin of the stream had grown aslant until their 
 lowermost boughs dipped into the water, and 
 through these sylvan arches the old wheel could 
 be discerned splashing, splashing and scattering 
 the water-drops about like some prodigal dis- 
 tributing fairy diamonds. The house attached 
 to the mill was overgrown with ivy, and had a 
 gable end, with latticed windows, which almost 
 overhung the mill-stream. The holly hedge by 
 which it was surrounded was neatly clipped, and 
 like most miller^s gardens, Ray's was a mass of 
 flowers and shrubs. 
 
 It had been a rare sight at one time to have 
 seen Jasper Jellifer away from his shop, except 
 on business, but since his intimacy with Kay he
 
 26 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 might be found once, and even twice a- week in 
 the dusk of the evening walking in the miller's 
 garden, although he was known to care nothing 
 for flowers, or indeed for little else in which he 
 did not traffic. 
 
 " A primrose by the river's brim 
 A yellow primrose was to him, 
 And it was nothing more." 
 
 He was there one evening earnestly reading a 
 book — it was bound in rough calf with a brass 
 clasp — as he walked up and down, when a farmer 
 rode up to the mill. 
 
 " Hallo ! '' cried the new-comer, looking over 
 the garden hedge. " Jasper Jellifer, as I live ! 
 What are you studying, man — the Ready 
 Reckoner, or the Art of Short Mensuration ? '' 
 
 *^ Neither, Master Spraggatt," replied Jasper, 
 smiling, and putting the volume into his pocket. 
 " Fm studying a leaf out of your book. Sir, and 
 learning the art of being idle. " 
 
 " You're too old and too knowing to go to my 
 school," said Jack Spraggatt, dismounting and 
 fastening his horse's bridle to a ring in the gate
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 27 
 
 post. Before he could open the wicket, however, 
 Jasper was at the entrance. 
 
 " Ray is at home, I suppose V^ remarked Jack. 
 
 "Yes — I believe so — that is, he was here just 
 now,'^ answered Jasper, with some hesitation of 
 manner, which, however, was not noticed by his 
 questioner. 
 
 As JacVs business was with the miller and not 
 with Jasper, for whom he entertained no great 
 respect, the young man made his way at once for 
 the house. As he did so he observed there was a 
 light in the miller's parlour, or counting house, 
 but on Jasper calling out, " Mr. Ray ! '^ it was 
 extinguished instantly. Jack thought -nothing of 
 this until he reached the door, when he heard the 
 lid of an iron chest, which he knew stood in one 
 corner of the miller^s room, close with a noise, as 
 though it had been shut down hastily. 
 
 " What's in the wind, I wonder ? '^ thought 
 Jack. " Jasper wouldn^t be idling away his time 
 here for nothing, and Ray evidently did not want 
 to make me as wise as himself.'^ 
 
 Whatever the mystery, there was no reading
 
 28 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 it in the miller^s face, for when lie opened the 
 door he looked as beaming and spoke as cheerily 
 as any man could, who was fresh from the ac- 
 complishment of some good action. 
 
 "I hardly expected you here to-night, Mr. 
 Spraggatt," said Ray; ''but come in and try 
 our last brewing. Unless," added the miller, 
 opening the parlour door and leading the way, 
 " you prefer a glass of French brandy or Dutch 
 Hollands; I have both at hand." 
 
 Jack preferred the ale, and the miller's hand- 
 maiden soon brought in a foaming jug of nut- 
 brown stingo which would have astonished the 
 degenerate topers of bitter beer. Jack had come 
 to make a bargain for the sale of some wheat, for 
 which the miller had offered a price some shillings 
 below its value. Buyers, however, were scarce, 
 and Jack wanted money. So did Ray, at least 
 that was his excuse for the badness of his offer, 
 and he could only buy by borrowing at interest, 
 and therefore the wheat must pay the loss. 
 
 Jack's need was urgent, for unless he paid some 
 money at next day's market his credit would be
 
 WATT rOR THE END. 29 
 
 damaged, if not lost altogether. Ray knew this 
 also, and professed to become a purchaser more 
 to oblige Mr. Spraggatt than from any hope of 
 gain by the transaction. There was nothing for 
 it but to take the miller^ s price, and the little 
 sample bag of wheat was drawn forth from JacVs 
 pocket with a sigh that told a tale which few 
 suspected who knew the light-hearted farmer on 
 his daily walk, for Jack Spraggatt had a cheerful 
 smile and pleasant word for all, even when night 
 had brought no sleep, and the light but small 
 comfort. 
 
 Ray had left the room to get so much of the 
 money as was needed for the morrow, and Jasper 
 Jenifer's presence at the mill was accounted for 
 by the young farmer, when he heard the miller 
 call his name. 
 
 Ray was absent a short time, and when he 
 returned he brought with him a lighted candle, 
 for the evening had closed in. The usual forma- 
 lities gone through, and two hundred pounds 
 safely deposited in the breast pocket of Jack's 
 coat, he rose to take his departure.
 
 80 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 As he did so, something sparkling on the 
 ground caught his eye, and to his surprise he 
 picked up a diamond ring — a lady's diamond 
 ring. 
 
 " Ha ! how careless of me," cried the miller, 
 almost snatching the waif from Jack's fingers. 
 ^' I would not have lost that ring for a hundred 
 pounds. It was my — my mother's. Thank you, 
 Mr. Spraggatt." 
 
 Jack knew the ring did not belong to him, 
 and therefore believed the miller's story without 
 further question, but E-ay scarcely spoke another 
 word until they reached the garden gate and bade 
 each other good night. 
 
 Jack Spraggatt rode on with a full pocket and 
 a heavy heart, for he knew that many bargains 
 similar to the one he had made that evening 
 would complete his ruin. 
 
 Jack had many friends, some of them true 
 friends, as the world goes— and was always sure 
 of a welcome. He had great natural spirits and 
 a happy-^looking face, two things which pass 
 current for much more than they are worth too
 
 WAIT POE, THE END. 31 
 
 often. Many who had returned his cheery greet- 
 ing or valediction had envied the happy Jack, 
 and wondered how he managed to put aside Care, 
 or to avoid the old carker altogether. Had they 
 peeped under his hat as he rode or walked along, 
 solitarily, they would have seen a bent brow and 
 a sad face that told of sorrow hidden from all, 
 perhaps, and known to himself alone. Whatever 
 it was that was gnawing at his peace, like the 
 Spartan boy, he hid his destroyer bravely. 
 
 To see Jack at his own table was to see him in 
 his glory. His aged mother seated in the place 
 of honour, and on either side a blooming sister, 
 kindly careful of their frequent guests, whilst Jack 
 filled a chair which death had made vacant some 
 three years before our story, by taking away the 
 kind grey headed man who had loved that house- 
 hold dearly — aye, too dearly. 
 
 No shade of sadness then ! No word, no look 
 to pain that widowed mother and those trusting 
 sisters, nothing to mar the bright hopes that 
 mingled ever with the talk of Letty's coming 
 nuptials — she was the elder of the two — or that
 
 82 WAIT POR THE END. 
 
 sought to check the prodigal love which was so 
 lavish in devising adornments for the happy bride. 
 Ray^s purchase would empty the bays of the 
 great barn^ and when that sorrow was passed, 
 they should be covered over with green boughs 
 and flowers, and all should 
 
 *' Go merry as the marriage bells." 
 
 Yet Jack had a great skeleton in his cupboard 
 — larger than that of the Irish giant — or the 
 mastodon even, and it would come out in the still 
 night and terrify him into wakefulness. It would 
 greet him in early morning as soon as his eyes 
 were open, it would often and often look at him 
 from behind his mother's and sisters' chairs, and 
 scare him for a moment ; but Jack, by a cheerful 
 look and a merry word would drive it away, to 
 meet it perhaps again when he smoked his pipe 
 walking among the flowers in the garden, or 
 sitting in the rose-covered porch, and at other 
 times when he ought to have been most happy. 
 
 This grim attendant was none of Jack^s own 
 seeking. It was bequeathed to him by his father, 
 who told him the day before he died never to let
 
 WAIT rOE, THE END. 33 
 
 his motlier see the unsightly thing, but to hide it 
 from her, if possible, until the time came when she 
 should lie down to rest in the green church-yard. 
 Jack obeyed his father, although it made his 
 young life at times a blank, and closed his heart 
 against a love which knocked at it loudly for two 
 long years, and which turned away at last to 
 find another home. Now and then, when the 
 malign influence became almost intolerable, he 
 had thought of asking Lucy — his favourite sister 
 Lucy, to share with him in part this terrible 
 knowledge; but fearing that it might become 
 as fatal to her and to her peace, as it had long 
 been to him and to his happiness, he elected to 
 bear it alone, and until the end, if that were 
 needful. 
 
 Jack found two neighbours awaiting his return 
 from the mill, and a merry supper was the result. 
 The young ladies and Jack were excellent singers 
 of homely songs and glees and catches, and one 
 of the guests prided himself on the profundity of 
 his bass. So they sang some old part-songs, such 
 as years and years ago the early tenants of that 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 84 v;ait for the end. 
 
 ancient dwelling had sung under tlie same oak 
 roof-tree, and whose delighted ghosts perhaps 
 still hovered around, and wagged their spectral 
 jaws to an inaudible chorus. 
 
 Mrs. Spraggatt had retired to rest somewhat 
 before the party broke up, although the clock 
 struck ten only as the two guests departed. 
 Jack went to his little sitting-room, adjoining 
 the one they had just left, with the intention of 
 depositing his money in an oak box where he kept 
 his account books, but found that his mother had 
 the key. As she was now asleep, possibly, he took 
 his treasure to bed with him. The mirthfulness 
 of the last hour or two had scared Jack^s skeleton 
 into its cupboard, and the young farmer soon 
 fell into a sound but short slumber. When he 
 awoke, the moonlight v/as shining on his face, 
 and had helped to rouse him, he thought. Rasper, 
 the house-dog, was barking at intervals down 
 at the homestead, but that was his custom, 
 whenever Jack forgot to unloosen him, and he 
 had done so that night. The weather cock on 
 the pigeon-house was creaking sadly. That was
 
 WAIT POU THE END. 35 
 
 strange ! because Jack liad seen it oiled not a 
 week ago. Yet it did creak, and that continu- 
 ously. There was a fox or a strange dog about 
 the place, no doubt, for Rasper was very noisy, 
 and Jack had half a mind to get out of bed 
 and silence him, but sleep was stealing over him, 
 the creaking of the weather-cock had ceased, and 
 so what evil was at work that night remained 
 unseen by Jack Spraggatt. 
 
 He found it out in the morning, however, and 
 fearing to alarm his mother and his sisters, never 
 talked of it until years and years afterwards, 
 when he and one other were alone in a far-off 
 land — alone in a great wilderness sitting at night 
 by a bright wood fire. 
 
 Jack discovered in the morning that two men 
 (there Avere the foot-prints of two men) had filed 
 the catch of the window of his little room — (he 
 thought it was the creaking of the weather-cock), 
 and having entered, had forced open the lid of 
 his oak box, and thrown all his books and papers 
 upon the ground. Nothing else Avas disturbed. 
 
 Nothing stolen. 
 
 D 2
 
 €f6 WAIT FOR THE EXD. 
 
 Jack replaced his books and papers, took off 
 the catch of the window, and thought how good 
 a thing it was to have friendly neighbours look in 
 to compel one to make merry sometimes in spite of 
 oneself. Had Mrs. Spraggatt not taken the key 
 of the oak box to bed with her, Jack would have 
 lost the bank-notes he had obtained at such a 
 sacrifice.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 JASPER JELLIFER PROPOSES TO PLAY FOR A GREAT 
 STAKE, AND THE MILLER SHARES THE RISK. 
 
 NoRwoLD Hall, the residence of Sir John Nor- 
 wold, was a fine old building, of somewhat later 
 date than Elizabeth's time, but partaking of some 
 of the architectural characteristics of that period, 
 when fortified houses were growing into disuse, 
 although the great mansions still preserved 
 traces of caution, and appearance of strength. 
 Its large bay windows were partly filled with 
 stained glass, depicting the armorial bearings of 
 the house of Norwold, and of those families wh® 
 had been united to it by marriage in the time 
 of its greater prosperity — its fortunes were more 
 humble at the time of our story. In its great 
 hall, cavaliers had mustered to do battle for King 
 Charles, and many keen sportsmen had gathered, 
 often "to boot, and to saddle,^^ and to "burn
 
 38 WAIT Foil THE END. 
 
 powder'^ in sylvan warfare. The grounds about 
 the hall had been extensive at one time, and 
 there was still much, that told of their past 
 glories. Thick yew hedges, broad enough to 
 allow the construction of bowers in their midst, 
 proclaimed themselves to be the growth of more 
 than one century, and there were terraces of 
 green turf, whereon, so tradition said, Henrietta 
 had once walked in queenly pride and beauty, 
 and many other stately dames, also, in after 
 time, when Norwold Hall had been the scene of 
 a large hospitality. The approach to the house 
 was by a gentle rise, and through an avenue of 
 noble trees, once all but condemned to become 
 timber, by the needy politician who had lately 
 held possession, but family pride cancelled the 
 sentence. 
 
 The park w^as only separated from the town of 
 Morden by a stream which flowed through it, 
 turning Ray's mill in its course to the adjoining 
 river. 
 
 Many of the smaller houses in Morden were 
 the property of Sir John Norwold. They had
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 39 
 
 been bought by the present Sir John's father 
 for election purposes, and were invariably oc- 
 cupied by " free men/' who, when tractable, 
 were desirable tenants before the Eeform. Bill 
 deprived them of much of their birth-rights. 
 The management of those political serfs had 
 been long intrusted to one David Locke, a 
 small corn-dealer, but a shrewd fellow, and a 
 first-rate pot-house politician. He was in his 
 way a diminutive " man in the moon,'' and 
 managed matters so cleverly, that his votes 
 defied scrutiny. The borough had been fre- 
 quently and hotly contested, but David Locke's 
 man was always at the head of the poll, and the 
 means by which his victories were obtained were 
 never doubted. He brought up his men in 
 shoals whenever occasion required them, and he 
 ticked them off as they polled with most an- 
 noying effrontery. His mode of bargaining was 
 unique and open. The Rock Club, held at a 
 small public-house in Morden, was composed of 
 certain free and independents who were banded 
 together for their own interests and security,
 
 40 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 contriving by their combination to keep up tlie 
 price of votes and prevent any underselling of 
 eacb other. On the eve of an election, the 
 Club met, and invited Mr. David Locke to at- 
 tend, and state the political opinions of his can- 
 didate. When pipes and beer, those necessary- 
 adjuncts to deliberation, had been supplied, Mr. 
 David Locke rose, stick in hand, and proceeded 
 to business. 
 
 " Gentlemen of the Rock Club," he would say, 
 " I am here to solicit your votes and interest for 
 Mr. Blank. As time is of consequence to all of 
 us, I will at once state the opinions of my prin- 
 cipal. He is a man of his word, and his political 
 opinions extend to — ." Here he would give two 
 blows with his stick upon the table. 
 
 This declaration would be always highly un- 
 satisfactory to the meeting, and loud cries of 
 " Oh ! no ! that won't do ! " compelled the orator 
 to proceed. 
 
 "Mr. Blank, gentlemen, is not an obstinate 
 man, unwilling to be guided in some way by the 
 opinions of his constituents, and therefore, I da
 
 WAIT POR THE END. 41 
 
 not hesitate to say for him'^ — three blows with 
 the stick followed by more dissatisfaction. 
 
 '^ There is reason iu roasting eggs/' Mr. Locke, 
 would continue, " and, gentlemen, I can assure 
 you, that Mr. Blank will retire from the con- 
 test — and will do so with my concurrence, and by 
 my advice, unless you are satisfied with'' — five 
 blows of the stick. 
 
 The fathers of the club would then put their 
 wicked old heads together, and whisper mysteri- 
 ously for a few minutes. During their delibera- 
 tion, Mr. David Locke resumed his hat, but- 
 toned up his coat, every button, and placing his 
 divining rod under his arm, awaited calmly the 
 result of the conference. If the chairman of the 
 club then struck five times upon the table, Mr. 
 David Locke again removed his hat, and repeated 
 the mystic number of blows. If on the other 
 hand the chairman exceeded that number by 
 only one tap, Mr. David Locke looked his contempt 
 of the assembly, and retired without a word. 
 Need we say, that the blows upon the table 
 indicated the number of guineas at which Mr.
 
 42 WAIT POR THE END. 
 
 Locke was willing to have those political brutes 
 knocked down to him ? 
 
 The late Earonet, Sir Robert Norwold, had 
 been a great House of Commons man, and had 
 contested three elections for Morden, paying so 
 dearly for his whistle, that when he died, his 
 estate was found to be greatly encumbered. Sir 
 John, his son and successor, set to work to get 
 back as much of his father's outlay in bribery as 
 he could by pinching his tenants to the uttermost. 
 Those free and independent persons had been so 
 long used to pay their rent in kind, that it was 
 no eas}^ matter to make them recognise the new 
 order of things, and pay in money; and Mr. 
 David Locke found his political influence dimi- 
 nishing daily by the intrusion of the broker 
 and his myrmidons into the dwellings of the 
 recusant tenants. But being one of those 
 practical philosophers who decide that half a 
 loaf is better than none, Mr. Locke, deter- 
 mined to take care of himself, and arranged 
 with Sir John Norwold to allow him a good 
 commission for collecting his rents in specie and
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 43 
 
 promises ; so after awhile matters went on pretty 
 smoothly. 
 
 We have said thus much of Mr. David Locke, 
 as a sudden illness threatened to close his rather 
 equivocal career, and leave his collectorship open 
 to a successor. The precarious condition of Mr. 
 Locke was known to very few persons only, and 
 Jasper Jellifer was one. The collectorship had 
 been long desired by the persevering Jasper, 
 and had Mr. Locke's illness not been so sudden 
 and dangerous, he had intended to have devised 
 some plan to have obtained, at some future day, 
 the reversion. 
 
 Jasper Jellifer had always been a lucky man, 
 and fortune had not tired of serving him. Sir 
 John Norwold was well known to be a proud, 
 selfish, overbearing man, and most of his deeds 
 of good or evil were referable to the state of his 
 temper for the time being. Jasper was afraid of 
 Sir John. 
 
 Lady Norwold was a second wife, and had been 
 promoted to that position from a respectable but 
 rather humble condition, and her recognition by
 
 44 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 Sir John was more that of a superior house- 
 keeper than of one whom he had promised to 
 endow with all his worldly goods, and to cherish 
 and comfort to the end of their mutual lives. 
 It seemed, therefore, hardly possible to induce 
 a lady so circumstanced, to interfere on behalf 
 of a person who was only known to her as a 
 small tradesman that occasionally received the 
 honour of her custom. 
 
 But Jasper Jellifer was a lucky man, and a 
 letter of introduction was put into his hand by 
 the postman. It bore the Cambridge post-mark, 
 and the handwriting appeared familiar to him. 
 He retired into his back parlour before breaking 
 the seal, and was gratified to find that the letter 
 was from Gilbert Norwold. It was earnestly 
 worded, and urgently requested the immediate 
 loan of 200/. The largeness of the amount 
 made Jasper start. The letter went on to say, 
 *' So great is the necessity for this money that I 
 am sure my mother. Lady Norwold, will gua- 
 rantee the repayment when I can explain circum- 
 stances to her. My brother Gerard is also so
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 45 
 
 concerned in this raatter that he will give his 
 written undertaking to see the money repaid. 
 I shall follow this letter to-morrow and be with 
 you at night, when I trust to find you prepared 
 to help me." Jasper read and re-read the letter, 
 and then thought over the course he should 
 pursue. To lend so large a sum, even if he had 
 the money, on such security, would be absurd. 
 Nevertheless the letter empowered him to see 
 Lady Norwold ; and out of an interview and the 
 knowledge of her son^s necessities, something 
 might arise to obtain her intercession with Sir 
 John for the desired collectorship. He dressed 
 himself in his best, and started at once for the 
 Hall. He walked briskly, and as he passed 
 under the grand old trees which formed the 
 avenue leading to the house, visions of future 
 advancement and larger gains presented them- 
 selves. The collectorship once obtained, other 
 trusts might follow, and some day Jasper Jellifer 
 might aspire to be steward of the Norwold pro- 
 perties. Two hundred pounds was a large sum to 
 invest on such a dream. A spendthrift's promise
 
 46 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 was soon forgotten, and Lady Norwold was 
 slenderly dowered. A quarter of that sum would 
 show his willingness to help, and give him a hold 
 upon the lady's gratitude. Well, there was time 
 enough to decide, after he had seen her lady- 
 ship. He went to the servant's entrance, but as 
 it was forbidden to have strangers in the offices, 
 he was shown into the great Hall, there to wait 
 until Sir John and Lady Norwold had finished 
 breakfast. As he sat there, patiently, he fancied 
 he heard Sir John speaking loud and angrily, 
 and when the door of the breakfast room was 
 opened by the footman who had been in atten- 
 dance, his conjecture was confirmed. The foot- 
 man shrugged liis shoulders, and made a grimace 
 at Jasper, whom he knew, saying : 
 
 '' The old game ! Sir John's in a towering 
 rage — his temper gets worse and worse. You 
 haven't come to see him, I hope ? " 
 
 "No,"" replied Jasper; "but I want to see her 
 ladyship very particular.^^ 
 
 " I don't expect she'll see you or anybody this 
 morning — she never does after these rows. I
 
 WAIT POR THE END. 47 
 
 don't envy ' her ladyship/ I can tell you/' said 
 the footman. 
 
 "What's the matter ?" asked Jasper. 
 
 "Oh, the old story — money. Master Gerard 
 has writ home for £50, and Sir John has gone 
 into fits about it. He says it's all Master 
 Gilbert's fault a setting him a bad example, 
 and that Lady Norwold encourages 'em in 
 extravagance. Hark ! he's a coming out/^ 
 and the prudent footman retreated with an 
 alacrity that was surprising, considering his full 
 condition. 
 
 The door of the breakfast-room was thrown 
 open by Sir John, who paused to say : 
 
 "Now write and tell them so. Madam. Tell 
 them both that I'll not give them a pound more 
 
 than their allowance. If I do " here followed 
 
 a coarse expletive which at that time was not 
 so uncommon as to be thought brutal, even 
 by those to whom it was addressed. 
 
 Jasper wished himself back in the market- 
 place, but retreat was impossible. 
 
 "Well, who are you?" cried Sir John. "Oh,
 
 48 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 I see ! the chandler's shop-keeper — Well, what 
 do you want ?'^ 
 
 Jasper was nearly bewildered, but as the col- 
 lectorship was uppermost in his head, he stam- 
 mered out — "Mr. Locke, Sir John, is dangerously 
 ill — dying, I believe, Sir John /^ 
 
 " So much the better ! '' interrupted the fiery 
 old gentleman. ^' If he had died forty years ago 
 it would have been all the better for me. An 
 old bribery-monger. How do you know he's 
 dying ?'^ 
 
 "Please, Sir John, the doctor was with him 
 three times yesterday ." 
 
 " That's enough — sent any message to me?" 
 
 "No, Sir John, but " 
 
 "Then why the devil do you stop me here 
 
 talking ." Luckily for Jasper, at this moment 
 
 the gardener's boy was discerned by the passion- 
 ate Baronet wheeling a barrow across the lawn, 
 and as this was a proceeding strictly against 
 orders, Sir John rushed out, his angry voice and 
 the howling of the boy giving assurance that the 
 prohibition was being forcibly impressed on the
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 49 
 
 memory of the delinquent. Jasper] sank down, 
 upon the hall-settle, almost resolved to abandon 
 the coveted interview, but the fear of meeting Sir 
 John on his way through the park kept him 
 sitting. At last, to Jasper's great relief, he saw 
 the dreaded old gentleman ride down the avenue, 
 and if the truth be told, he cared not whither. 
 
 When Lady Norwold passed into the hall, 
 Jasper noticed that she had been weeping, but his 
 self-interest was too much concerned to admit of 
 any display of delicacy on his part. He, there- 
 fore, advanced towards her, almost calling, " My 
 lady ! '^ Lady Norwold stopped, and Jasper 
 instantly opened his business. 
 
 " I beg pardon, my lady, but I want to speak to 
 your ladyship for a few minutes.^^ 
 
 " I am rather indisposed, Mr. Jellifer, just now 
 
 and must trouble you to call again ." 
 
 "But my business is very pressing, my lady,^' 
 said Jasper. " I have a letter from your son, 
 Mr. Gilbert." 
 
 " From my son ? ^' said Lady Norwold. " My 
 son written to you ? Pray follow me,^' and she 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 WAIT POR THE END. 
 
 1 d the way into a small room which she usually 
 occupied when alone. 
 
 " Did I understand you rightly, that you had a 
 letter from my son, Mr. Gilbert?'' asked her 
 ladyship, seating herself as though her anxiety 
 already oppressed her. 
 
 "Yes, my lady,'' rephed Jasper. "A letter 
 which has perplexed me a great deal, I can assure 
 your ladyship ; and I thought it my duty to come 
 on to you at once, my lady. Here is the letter, 
 which will speak for itself." 
 
 Lady Norwold drew a deep sigh before she 
 ventured to read a communication which, she 
 feared, would bring her more sorrow. As she 
 read on, large tears fell upon the paper, and 
 when she had finished she hid her face in her 
 handkerchief and sobbed aloud. Jasper was very 
 sorry to witness her distress, for he thought he 
 Could not very well touch upon the collectorship 
 at present, and he dreaded the return of Sir 
 John. 
 
 "This is a very sad, sad letter," said Lady 
 Norwold, after a pause of some moments, " and
 
 WAIT FOU THE END, 51 
 
 will go nigli to break my lieart^ unless Gilbert has 
 some satisfactory explanation to give. What do 
 you propose to do, ]\Ir. Jellifer? Is it in your 
 power to help my unhappy boy ? ^' 
 
 "Why really, your ladyship/' said Jasper, 
 hardly expecting such a point blank question so 
 early in the interview, '^ I assure your ladyship 
 that it is quite out of my power to do what Mr. 
 Gilbert requires.'-' 
 
 " Then why did you come to me ? Why did 
 you come to give me pain, if you have not the 
 power to help my poor son ? " 
 
 Jasper saw all his new-blown hopes fading 
 away if he hesitated. * 
 
 " Your ladyship would not hear me to an end/* 
 said Jasper. " I was about to say that I would 
 see Mr. Gilbert, and hear if he really wants so 
 much as £200. If fifty would help him, and I 
 have your ladyship's promise of repayment, I 
 would try — yes, I would try to advance that 
 sum.^' 
 
 "Thanks, Mr. Jellifer— Mr. Gilbert must make 
 that sum sufficient, for I do not hesitate to 
 
 E 2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
 
 62 WAIT POU THE END. 
 
 tell you that Sir Joliii is tired of supplying his 
 sons^ — both liis sons^ — extravagances, and that I 
 am myself subjected to much annoyance on their 
 account. Sir John is very unreasonable at times, 
 and is not particular upon whom he vents his ill 
 temper. I knew when you gave me that letter 
 that it was about money. As I read how dear 
 Gilbert's imprudence was distressing him, poor 
 boy, and saw how large was the amount required 
 to release him from his difficulties, I was per- 
 fectly overcome, knowing that I am almost 
 penniless at present. Mr. Jellifer, you will do 
 your best in this unhappy business, and I promise 
 you shall be repaid^ Of course I' depend upon 
 your honourable secresy, and have you any- 
 thing else to say ? " 
 
 Yes, Jasper had, and he intimated as much by 
 his manner, when he saw her ladyship about to 
 leave the room. 
 
 "I beg your ladyship's pardon for detaining 
 you,^^ said Jasper ; '' but Mr. David Locke, 
 Sir John's collector of rents in Morden, is 
 dying.''
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 53 
 
 ''Poor old Mr. Locke dying, indeed ! Well ! " 
 
 '' I am most anxious to have the appointment 
 at his death, and if your ladyship would inter- 
 cede for me with Sir John, I should be deeply 
 grateful. ^^ 
 
 "Mr. Jellifer, I will say what I can for you. 
 You know — all the world in fact knows — what a 
 strange temper Sir John is, but he has his lucid 
 intervals, and I will avail myself of one of them 
 to prefer your suit. Good morning — though, Mr. 
 Jellifer, I must make one condition.'^ 
 
 " Pray name it, your ladyship ! ^' said Jasper, 
 thoroughly satisfied and delighted. 
 
 "You must let Mr. Gilbert have a hundred 
 pounds. Tell him, from me, that he must do 
 with that? Good morning^' and her lady- 
 ship glided from the room. 
 
 She had always been a cold, selfish woman, and 
 married Sir John, her senior by many years, for 
 position, relentlessly breaking whole quires of 
 written vows of constancy and love to one who 
 had believed them. Her married life would have 
 been an unhappy one had she coveted a husband's
 
 54 WAIT rOE THE END. 
 
 love, or a wife's place in her husband''s home ; but_, 
 asking neither, finding neither, she had concen- 
 trated all the woman's nature she possessed on 
 her only child, ever seeking his advantage at 
 the expense of his brother Gerard, using mean 
 trickery and double dealing to secure her ends, 
 and too frequently employing the agency of her 
 own child, until she had made him as selfish, 
 deceitful, and dishonourable as herself. 
 
 The last condition of Lady Norwold was not 
 over acceptable to Jasper, but as he walked down 
 the grand old avenue his former dreams of great- 
 ness and profit returned, and he resolved to 
 consult his friend the miller. 
 
 Kay, he knew, had been to London, but would 
 return by the mid-day coach, and he might as 
 well call upon him at once, and not wait until the 
 evening for the settlement of some matter of busi- 
 ness between them. So Jasper sat down on a 
 bench in the garden to await his friend^s return. 
 
 We have hitherto said nothing of Jasper's wife, 
 and although she will have little to do with our 
 story for some time to come, she is a person not
 
 WAIT FOE, THE END. 55 
 
 to be altogether overlooked. Jasper had smuggled 
 her, almost, into Morden, for none knew of his 
 wooing or of his marriage, and the lady herself 
 was a stranger to every one. She was rather a 
 showy person to be Jasper Jellifer^s wife, but she 
 proved to be an industrious woman, and drove as 
 hard a bargain, and loved money as dearly as did 
 her husband. Her maiden name she told to 
 many, had been Harrison, and it was by her 
 introduction, it was said, that Eay and Jasper 
 had become friends. Some persons, indeed, 
 fancied they could trace a family resemblance 
 between Ray and Mrs. Jellifer, but people in 
 country towns will have strange fancies. 
 
 Kay returned punctually by the mid-day coach, 
 and he and Jasper were soon closely closeted 
 together. Kay^s jovial laugh came now and then 
 pealing through the open window, overpowering 
 poor Jasper^s feeble chuckle, which rarely had an 
 independent innings. An hour or so had passed 
 when Gregory, the miller^s man, was summoned 
 to the house, and desired to witness the signatures 
 of the two friends to a paper which had been
 
 56 WAIT rOR THE END. 
 
 prepared in London. The man was rather fright- 
 ened, as persons of his class frequently are, when 
 asked '^to put their names to paper/' but Ray 
 5or some reason, and despite his bonhomiey was 
 2iot a person any one would willingly disoblige 
 when he required a service of them. 
 
 " Now have a glass of wine, Gregory, if only to 
 impress this matter upon your memory,'^ said 
 Eay ; " and I hope it may be a long day before 
 you are required to give your evidence.^' 
 
 Eoth friends laughed in concert, and Gregory 
 grinned and drank off the wine, and never forgot 
 to his dying day the signing of that paper. 
 
 " Your mind is at ease now, I hope," said Ray, 
 when Gregory had left the room; ''by to-morrow^s 
 post the other deed will arrive, and when that 
 is signed, sealed, and delivered, all will be straight 
 between us.'' 
 
 The next day Gregory was again summoned, 
 but no wine was forthcoming, and for that reason 
 among others, he remembered when his head was 
 grey the signing of the second paper also, when 
 Mr. Ray was the miller at Norwold Mill.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MR. JELLIFER PROVIDES AN OFFERING, AND RAY, 
 THE MILLER, OFFICIATES AS A PRIEST OP 
 MAMMON. 
 
 Those who remember the old coaching days — 
 forgetting, perhaps, many of their discomforts, 
 delays and dangers — are wont to contrast them 
 favourably, with the hurry, noise, and monotony 
 of a journey by rail. It was certainly a pleasant 
 change for the daily worker, whether student, 
 trader, or craftsman, to find himself seated on a 
 well-appointed four-horse coach whirling along 
 through pleasant country scenes, such as England 
 presents, whichever way we travel, silently enjoy- 
 ing the ever changing landscape, now of broad 
 cultivated plains, rich with their promised or 
 accomplished harvests; now of great moorlands, 
 golden with the blossoms of the furze, or purple 
 with the flowers of the heather; the distance
 
 58 WAIT POE, THE END. 
 
 studded witli farmer^s homesteads or lordly man- 
 sions, and changing then to the glorious wood- 
 lands, watered by nohle rivers or placid streams, 
 until the wearied mind forgot its toils and cares, 
 and felt that the beauteous earth might indeed 
 have been a Paradise. The fresh breeze came 
 like the breath of health, and made the pulse beat 
 quicker, whilst the brisk clatter of the dashing 
 team became a cadence that was almost music. 
 The entrance of the coach into the country town 
 or little village was an event to be regarded. The 
 busiest and the idle, the old and the young, had 
 eyes for nothing else, and every passenger, on the 
 outside at least, felt "a lion" for the moment. 
 What delicious ale you drank at the Change ! 
 What luscious ham and delicate fowls you ate 
 at the dinner, and what a princely price you 
 paid for the enjoyment. You pay as nobly now, 
 but minus the pleasure. Then the after weed ! 
 When did a cigar ever seem so fragrant, so 
 etherial, as when smoked upon a coach-box, 
 with no better companion at your side than 
 the chatty coachman, whose skill you admired.
 
 WAIT POR THE END. 59 
 
 and whose universal popularity you almost 
 envied. Mr. Babbage^ that sorely tormented 
 gentleman (may his tormentors eat dirt ! — by 
 the bye, they do that), would have forgiven the 
 strong-lunged guard for the melody produced by 
 his straight iiorn or key bugle, and paid his tip at 
 the end of the journey with the readiness of grati- 
 tude. Soho ! our ride by coach is ended, and 
 what is written may seem rhapsodies, but many 
 shared them on the day when Gilbert Norwold 
 obtained his "exeat," and left Cambridge for 
 Morden. 
 
 The ride was a dreary one for him, and when 
 he arrived in London he almost determined to 
 retrace his road, and dare Gerard to his worst 
 rather than proceed on his humiliating mission. 
 He thought, however, that Gerard would not be 
 diverted from the resolution he had expressed to 
 see restitution made ; and he knew that his father 
 would feel the family honour compromised, and 
 against that conviction his parental affection 
 would weigh as a grain of sand. So, he must 
 on to Morden, and purchase his redemption from
 
 60 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 Jasper Jellifer at whatever price he might be 
 pleased to require for the service to be rendered. 
 
 The coach would arrive about nine o'clock, and 
 to avoid recognition, Gilbert had requested Jasper 
 to meet him with his covered cart about a mile 
 from the Elms, and his request had been obeyed. 
 
 As Gilbert had made frequently secret runs 
 home, the guard and coachman (to whom he 
 was well known), were not surprised at this 
 arrangement, and both knew their business too 
 well to allude to the circumstance when they 
 made the next change at Morden. 
 
 "Well, Jelhfer," said Gilbert, as soon as they 
 were seated in the cart, " are you ready with the 
 money ?^' 
 
 The inquiry was somewhat abrupt, but Jasper 
 was undisturbed by it, and the more especially as 
 he was not about to ask any favour from Gilbert. 
 
 " The sum you require is far above my means,^' 
 he replied — '^very far, and you ought to have 
 known that, sir.^' 
 
 "I don't believe you, Jasper; that's flat!" said 
 Gilbert. " I am sure you must have the money ;
 
 WAIT POR THE END. 61 
 
 but I suppose now that you know the infernal 
 strait I am in, you want to play the Shylock. 
 You need not hesitate to ask your price — I am 
 prepared to pay liberally ; that is, to promise to 
 pay, and my brother Gerard will do the same.^^ 
 
 " I tell you once again, sir, that I have not the 
 power to help you to so mucb as 200/. I saw 
 her ladyship this morning/^ 
 
 '^Ah! What did she say?^' 
 
 '^ She was very much cut up, sir, when I told 
 her what you had written about. Very much 
 cut up :^' said Jasper, with emotion. 
 
 " She always cries before she puts her hand in 
 her pocket, I know," replied Gilbert. " But she 
 gave you her security ? " 
 
 "Not so; she has given me no security, be- 
 cause I told her as I tell you, I have not the 
 money.''' 
 
 "Then you must borrow it," cried Gilbert, 
 mucb excited by Jasper^s coolness and protesta- 
 tions. " My honour, my future welfare, is con- 
 cerned, and you must find me the money, you 
 cold-blooded fellow."
 
 63 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 '^ I am not what you call me, Mr. Gilbert_, and 
 I will prove it to you at once. I offered to give 
 you all the money I have — some 50/. or so, and 
 your lady mother said that you must make that 
 sufficient, as " 
 
 " HoAV can she know what is sufficient ? " cried 
 Gilbert. " She ought to be able to manage 
 better, and make Sir John more liberal with his 
 money. I tell you once for all 50/. is of no use 
 to me.^' 
 
 " ' You 7nay make it a hundred,^ said her lady- 
 ship, ' and I will see you paid •/ and being anxious 
 to serve you, sir, and her ladyship, I have been to 
 my friend Mr. Eay — the miller, sir — and he hopes 
 to be able to make up another fifty pounds to 
 mine. We will go down this lane, and then 
 cross the river in a boat. My cart would be 
 known in the market place, and people would 
 wonder what business I had at the mill so late 
 at night.-'^ 
 
 Gilbert sat silent for some minutes, and then 
 said: 
 
 " A hundred pounds, eh ? Hm ! — Gerard will
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 63 
 
 get fifty from Sir Jolin, and that miglit be made 
 sufficient/' 
 
 " You must not calculate upon that, sir/' said 
 Jasper. ^^ As I was sitting in the Hall this morn- 
 ing, I could not help hearing Sir John desire her 
 ladyship to write to you both, and refuse your 
 brother the money." 
 
 Gilbert swore a strong oath for so young a 
 man, but he had been accustomed to hear such 
 phrases from his father's mouth. 
 
 '^ Please, don't swear in such a fearful way, 
 sir," said Jasper. '' I am not a religious man, 
 but we are about to cross the river in a boat, and 
 I don't like the water even by day-light." 
 
 By this time they had reached an old boat- 
 house on the banks of the river, and Jasper 
 had made all needful preparations, as a boy 
 was waiting to ferry. them across to Norwold 
 Park, after the horse had been put up at a 
 neighbouring stable. 
 
 The night was star-light, and the fine old Hall 
 looked grand amid its surrounding of stately 
 trees as Gilbert and Jasper walked under the
 
 64 WAIT POK- THE END. 
 
 shadow of tlie park palings to Noiwold Mill. 
 They found Raj waiting for them at the garden 
 gate, and the miller raising his hat to Gilbert, 
 led the way to the house in silence. 
 
 The room they entered was the one in which 
 Jack Spraggatt had found the ring, but now the 
 shutters were closed, and thick red curtains drawn 
 before them. Supper was laid upon the table, and 
 as the evening had been somewhat chilly, a bright 
 wood fire was burning, and botli were heartily 
 welcomed by the two wayfarers. The miller's 
 pleasant manner and cheerful face was not lost 
 upon Gilbert, and he soon went heartily to work 
 at the excellent supper provided for the party. 
 No word was spoken on the matter which had 
 called them together until the table being cleared 
 and the materials for grog brought in, the domestic 
 was dismissed for the night. 
 Ray broke ground. 
 
 *' Mr. Jellifer has told me, sir, of your wants, 
 and of his own inability to meet them, and has 
 come to me, who am quite as poor as himself, ta 
 help in the matter."
 
 AVAIT FOR THE END. 05 
 
 Gilbert bowed slightly, and said, " Just so. 
 I understand that Mr. Jellifer has explained my 
 present position to you, and that you have kindly 
 undertaken to help me, if you can." 
 
 "That "^if," " said the miller, "is the difficulty.'' 
 
 The clock in the passage struck eleven. 
 
 Jasper rose hastily, and said that as his wife, 
 who knew nothing of this business, would be 
 alarmed at his absence, and possibly be making 
 inquiries for him, he begged to be allowed to go. 
 
 Ray knew all the particulars, and Mr. Gilbert 
 had arranged to remain at the mill until the 
 early morning, when Jasper was to call for him 
 with the covered cart. As there was no reason 
 why he should remain, Eay saw him to the garden 
 gate, and after a few minutes returned to his 
 guest. 
 
 "To tell the truth," said he. "I am glad 
 Jellifer has left us. He is a good fellow enough, 
 but he has seen nothing of the world, and has 
 all the narrow prejudices of a provincial shop- 
 keeper. Your grog is not to your liking, Vm 
 afraid, sir?" 
 
 VOL. T. -p
 
 66 WAIT FOE THE END. 
 
 Gilbert assured him that it was capital_, and 
 the miller went on^ having first produced some 
 cigars of excellent quality. 
 
 " I do not wish to force myself upon your con- 
 fidence, or to take advantage of what I already 
 know, but being a burnt child myself, I am very 
 anxious to help you if I can." He paused for a 
 few moments, and then continued. '' If I had 
 had an adviser when young, I should not be a 
 huckstering miller, nor the intimate of such a man 
 as Jasper Jellifer ; but I made one mistake, and 
 was unforgiven — turned out into the world to 
 fight the battle of life — to sink or swim, as best I 
 could. I know what I have sufi'ered, and seen 
 what others have sufi'ered also.^' 
 
 There was silence, and both sat looking at the 
 bright fire. 
 
 " I have no right to say more," continued the 
 miller — "no right to ask you to tell me any- 
 thing ; but the sum you — a young man — require 
 is so large, and the need of it so urgent, that — ' 
 he paused. 
 
 "That, what?'' asked Gilbert.
 
 WAIT FOR THE END, G7 
 
 " That I would make a great effort to help you, 
 if I believed it would save you from the evil 
 consequences of a boyish folly /^ 
 
 Gilbert was touched by Ray^s tone, and kindly 
 manner almost more than by his words, and he 
 said, "Thank you, thank you, Mr. Ray. The 
 money would indeed save me from a very painful 
 difficulty/^ 
 
 " Yet you will not trust me, because I am not 
 your equal. Is it not so ? ^^ 
 
 " That is not my reason,^^ replied Gilbert ; '* on 
 my honour, no ! and I will hesitate no longer. 
 I only desire that what I say, be not communi- 
 cated to Jenifer, or indeed to any other person.'' 
 
 Ray gave the required assurance, and Gilbert- 
 continued : 
 
 "I have a brother as you know, a half 
 brother only, and older than myself. He is up 
 at Cambridge with me. Our pursuits, our habits, 
 are widely different; and whilst he, I believe, is 
 considered a thoroughly good fellow, I am re- 
 garded by his set as a rather loose fish. I accept 
 the distinction, because I know I deserve it.
 
 68 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 Gerard rarely touches a card, and I am fond of 
 play, and latterly I have , I have " 
 
 " Lost your money," remarked Ray, as Gilbert 
 made a pause. 
 
 " No ; I have won somewhat largely, and prin- 
 cipally of a freshman." 
 
 'Well, no harm in that," said Raj^, as Gilbert 
 again ceased speaking. 
 
 ^' You are mistaken ; all the harm I fear is 
 from that cause. ' Easy got, easy go,' is an old 
 adage, and so it has been with my winnings. 
 Pressing debts, and some fresh extravagancies, 
 have disposed of all my gains. That had been 
 all very well ; but this is my difficulty : my 
 good and worthy brother has come to know of 
 the matter — how does not signify — and because 
 my opponent chances to be a rich young foolj 
 Gerard desires me to restore the fellow his losings, 
 and that forthwith; pretending that our family 
 honour, or some such nonsense, is concerned." 
 
 '' And what, if you refuse to comply with such 
 an unreasonable request ? " asked Bay, with a 
 smile.
 
 WAIT FOE, THE END. 69 
 
 ^' The blackguard threatens to tell my father, 
 knowing his ungovernable temper, and that he 
 would turn me out of doors as likely as not ; for 
 I have never been a favourite with him, and he 
 has forbidden us, again and again I own, to play 
 for money/' 
 
 ''Would your brother do this, think you ? " 
 
 " Yes — remorselessly. He has said he would, 
 even when I pleaded for my mother. He is 
 sneak enough to keep his word," answered 
 Gilbert. 
 
 *' Your position is indeed desperate ! ^' said 
 Ray, with a sigh ; '' for I know of what evil 
 things your good young man is capable. It was 
 a ' good young man ' that made my father close 
 his door on me, and changed the whole purpose 
 of my life. You want £200 ? '' 
 
 "Yes. Jellifer will advance £50, and Gerard 
 wrote home for fifty more, and has been refused.^* 
 
 " That I know, as Jasper saw your mother this 
 morning, after a stormy breakfast with Sir John," 
 said Ray. " I wish I were rich enough to help 
 you ; from my soul I do ; but I have a hard fight
 
 70 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 to keep my place, poor as it is. However, I have 
 not asked this confidence without a reason. Had 
 you needed this money for any ordinary purpose^ 
 I should have added a little to Jasper's loan, and 
 so have ended. But your case is too desperate 
 to hesitate, from false delicacy, perhaps, to tell 
 you what can be done. Your brother has every- 
 thing to gain by your exposure ; but from some 
 sense of decency he has made this home request 
 for money, knowing it would be refused, and 
 proposed to give his security to Jasper, knowing 
 it to be worthless, has he not? I guessed at 
 something of this, and therefore have not been 
 idle in your behalf, although only partially success- 
 ful. Fill your glass again, Mr. Gilbert, and then 
 I will tell you all that can be done." 
 
 Ray made up the fire, and threw on another 
 log or two, muttering audibly as he did so, " Poor 
 young fellow ! '^ He then seated himself, and 
 said : 
 
 " I have been to London on this matter, 
 Mr. Gilbert, unknown to Jellifer. I have brought 
 back the money, and here it is in this pocket-
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. , 71 
 
 book. It is at your service conditionally, and 
 pray bear in mind that the terms I am about 
 to propose are not mine, but of the man from 
 whom the money comes. Were it mine, there 
 should be none. I have obtained one hundred 
 and fifty pounds from a money-lender — one 
 of the most cautious of his class. He has 
 known me long, too long for my advantage, but 
 as I never deceived him, he will at all times take 
 my word, and not my security. He knows my 
 real circumstances too well. Yet, as I say, he 
 will trust to my word and to my honour. He 
 will lend you this money on one condition only. 
 Mind it is he who speaks. He will have some 
 tangible security, such, as he says. Lady Norwold 
 can easily give if she be so minded. She must 
 have jewels, diamonds, and those he will have, 
 or I am bound to return him this money.^' 
 
 Gilbert started from his seat, exclaiming, " Im- 
 possible ! She will not risk my father^s anger.^^ 
 
 '' She wilV said Ray, calmly ; " she will, when 
 she knows it will save her son from the ruin 
 which is before him. Sit down, sir, and let us talk
 
 72 AVAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 quietly. Reflect — has Lady Nor wold no jewels 
 wliicli she seldom wears. Your family will not 
 go to town until Christmas, and before that time 
 your mother can easily obtain — for women have 
 great tact — the money from your father to redeem 
 any pledge she may now give. Reflect — has she 
 nothing that you can ask her to lend you at this 
 terrible emergency ? " 
 
 " Yes — she has one ornament which she rarely 
 wears — a diamond bracelet given her by Sir 
 John, I have heard her say, shortly after they 
 were married,^^ replied Gilbert. 
 
 " Ask her to lend you that,^^ said Ray, coolly. 
 
 " But how to see her, even if I wait until to- 
 morrow ? I dare not go to the Hall, and she is 
 not always at liberty to leave home." 
 
 " Go to her to-night," said Ray. She and Sir 
 John occupy separate chambers — do they not ? — 
 whenever there has been a domestic breeze, and 
 one blew pretty stiffly this morning, I hear. It 
 has been whispered, Mr. Gilbert, that you could 
 find your way into Norwold Hall without troubling 
 the porter." And the miller smiled.
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. io 
 
 " I thought that secret was known only to my- 
 self/^ answered Gilbert, smiling also, and colouring 
 deeply. " There is an entrance, but then one door 
 will be locked to-night, and I have not the key." 
 
 " Where there's a will there's a way," said the 
 miller, laughing, and going to one corner of the 
 room v/here a portrait hung. " Secret for secret, 
 Mr. Gilbert. Here is my Hassarac's cavern. 
 Open Sesame ! " As he spoke he pressed upon 
 the moulding of the picture frame, the canvas 
 flew up, and disclosed a very shallow recess behind 
 it. " A present this, from my old friend the 
 money 'lender, and I use it for odds and ends 
 that else would get astray. Here are some keys 
 of various sizes. One of them perhaps, may 
 remove your difficulty." 
 
 Gilbert looked at the bunch ; there were some 
 dozen or so, and at last selected three which 
 appeared to be available. The ring to which 
 they were attached was rusted, however, and 
 would not open. 
 
 '^ Take them as they are," said the miller, and 
 remember what you have at stake. Home and
 
 74 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 fortune, or a life of struggle, not ending perhaps 
 — in a mill/^ 
 
 The moon shone very brightly, and the stars 
 glistened like the eyes of angels, when Gilbert 
 Norwold entered the grand old avenue to steal 
 into his father^s house like a thief in the night. 
 Again and again his heart failed him, but all 
 that Eay had spoken came back to him, hissing 
 in his ears, and roused him to proceed. 
 
 The door through which he had often passed 
 secretly at night, was in the wall of a small yard, 
 which had been formerly used for poultry by the 
 first Lady Norwold; but had been long neglected. 
 From the roof of a small building within it, 
 Gilbert could reach a staircase window which was 
 without a fastening, and through this he had 
 passed often and often. The lock of the door 
 was of the commonest construction, and one of 
 the keys he had readily^ opened it. 
 
 He soon reached the roof of the neglected 
 aviary, and walked along it towards the window^ 
 which had frequently given him access to the 
 house when he had been absent without the
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 75 
 
 knowledge of, or against the wish of his father. 
 As he drew nearer to the house, his shadow 
 rose lip before him on the wall, as though to 
 warn him of impending danger, or to drive 
 him back from the commission of a crime. It 
 startled him for a moment, but again the miller's 
 words — ^^ Home and fortune — a life of struggle,^' 
 — came back to him, and he opened the window. 
 
 When Gilbert Norwold stood in his father^s 
 house his heart beat violently, and he felt how 
 mean an act he was committing. How many a 
 wretched hour had he spared himself and others, 
 had he listened to the still small voice within 
 that called to him to go back. 
 
 Noiselessly, as one stealing to do murder, did he 
 approach his mother^s dressing-room. The thick 
 curtains shut out the moonlight, and he was afraid 
 to proceed until he had carefully withdrawn the 
 hangings and let it in. Silently he reached the 
 door of the bed-chamber, and found it locked. 
 He tapped once, only once, upon the panel, and 
 no one spoke, and he feared to knock again, 
 thinking his mother could not be in that room.
 
 76 WAIT FOE THE END. 
 
 "What was to become of him ? If all that Ray 
 had suggested should come to pass ! If Gerard 
 should be the false-hearted treacherous brother 
 that lie had made him appear to be ! If he could 
 have seen his mother alone but for a few minutes, 
 he knew her love for him was so strong, herself so 
 weak, that she would have yielded to his prayers 
 for assistance. What now was to be done ? 
 
 The moonlight streaming through the half- 
 opened curtains fell full upon the small cabinet 
 wherein his mother kept her trinkets. The 
 thought which passed through his mind when 
 he saw this, almost deprived him of the power 
 to move. There was deliverance behind those 
 painted doors. Again the words of Kay came 
 back to him — Homeless ! Portionless ! and all by 
 the word of a false brother. His hand almost in- 
 stinctively sought the keys in his pocket ; he drew 
 them forth — one, two, three, were tried without 
 effect. Again he paused in his guilty work, and 
 again Ray^s words were in his ears. His mother 
 would save him did she know all. He would tell 
 her all to-morrow or the next day, when he would
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 77 
 
 write to her. A key was found at last, one 
 painted door was opened, and there, on the little 
 shelf where he had seen it lie so often, was 
 the bracelet case. He opened it, took out the 
 bracelet, and returned the case. His brain was 
 numbed now, and his heart almost still, but the 
 click of the closing lock set both at work again. 
 How he reached the park he could not remem- 
 ber, but he must have returned the way he had 
 entered, as he found the keys in his hand. 
 Uttering a sharp cry, he hurled them away, and 
 running down the avenue, would have fallen to 
 the ground, had not Ray suddenly advanced to him 
 from the shadow of some trees which stood near 
 the pathway leading from the park to the mill. 
 
 It was some minutes before Gilbert could 
 proceed, even with the assistance of Ray, who 
 kept silent, fearing to provoke a return of his 
 young friend's faintness, by any inopportune 
 question. 
 
 When they had entered the miller's parlour, 
 where the fire still burned brightly, Gilbert burst 
 into tears and laid his head upon the table ; and
 
 78 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 Ray did not speak for some time, not until the 
 sobbing ceased. 
 
 "Has the interview been so painful ?'' he 
 asked. 
 
 " Oh, most painful ! most painful ! never to be 
 forgotten from this hour by me. Say no more, sir. 
 It is over ! There is the bracelet." He almost 
 threw it upon the table, and E-ay, who did not care 
 to increase Gilbert's distress, took it up and ex- 
 amined jt carefully. It was of diamond work 
 surrounding a portrait of Sir John ISlorwold. Eay 
 held it in his hand for some time, and a smile of 
 satisfaction passed over his pleasant features. 
 
 Gilbert sat with his face covered by his hands, 
 and so Ray proceeded to count out £200, and to 
 write some memoranda on a sheet of paper. 
 
 "Now, sir," he said at length, " Jasper^s cart 
 will be here directly, and we may as well conclude 
 our painful business. There are notes for £200, 
 and I must trouble you to give me your brother's 
 undertaking for Jellifer, and to sign these memo- 
 randa for the other money. They are receipts for 
 these two sums, and here is another signed by me
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 79 
 
 acknowledging the possession of this bracelet, and 
 the amount, ^200, for which it is pledged. Mr. 
 Jellifer will arrange his own charge for interest.'^ 
 
 Gilbert did not observe the cold vicious tone 
 in which Ray now addressed him, but signed the 
 papers, and gave Ray Gerard's letter acknowledg- 
 ing his responsibihty. He had scarcely finished 
 when Jasper's covered cart drove up to the mill, 
 and Gilbert shaking the miller warmly by the 
 hand, joined the clever agent, who had helped 
 him to such a generous friend as Miller Ray. 
 
 When the miller returned to the house, he saw 
 that Gilbert had left the paper acknowledging 
 Ray's possession of the bracelet behind him. 
 Ray shook his head, and placing the paper 
 in his cash-box, opened his Hassarac's cavern 
 and deposited them within it. The bracelet, and 
 the receipt signed by Gilbert, he put into his 
 pocket, no doubt intending to give them to the 
 money-lender, who had such remarkable reliance 
 on his word and honour. 
 
 On the evening of the next day, Gilbert Nor- 
 wold entered his brother's rooms at Cambridge
 
 80 -WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 liis whole appearance so clianged, that to any one 
 slightly acquainted with him, he would have been 
 hardly recognisable. His face so haggard that 
 the deepened lines added years to its expression, 
 whilst his curved shoulders seemed bent down by 
 the weight of the heavy heart within. He did not 
 offer to sit down, and hardly accepted the hand 
 his brother Gerard extended to him. Gerard 
 was surprised and pained at the change, and more 
 so when Gilbert said in a low hollow voice : — 
 
 ''1 have brought back the money. Jellifer lent 
 me £50 on your security. For the rest I am 
 indebted to ray mother. I leave to you the 
 restitution.^' 
 
 "My dear Gilbert, you are ill,'' said his 
 brother. "Is it fatigue, or have you had words 
 at home?" 
 
 "I am fatigued," rephed Gilbert. "I have 
 not closed my eyes since I left Cambridge. Our 
 father's honour — your honour — is preserved." 
 
 "And yours also, dear brother," said Gerard, 
 taking Gilbert's hand. As he did so he felt that 
 a shudder passed through his brother's frame, and
 
 WAIT FOE, THE END. 81 
 
 saw that on his forehead large drops of sweat 
 came suddenly and fast. 
 
 " Lie down on my bed. You are ill; I am sure 
 you are," said Gerard. "Let me send for the 
 doctor." 
 
 Gilbert instantly appeared to rouse himself, and 
 replied : " No necessity for that, Gerard. My 
 interview with — with Jellifer and his friend, who 
 advanced the money, was long and humiliating. 
 It lasted throughout the night, and I have 
 travelled here since I saw tliem — I will go to my 
 own rooms. You will see Mariott. I suppose I 
 need not ask you to spare me as much as possible. 
 You will do that, however, for your own sake. 
 There are two hundred pounds in notes." 
 
 " I suppose," said Gerard, unwilling to reply to 
 his brother's taunt — '' I suppose the terms exacted 
 by the lenders are somewhat hard." 
 
 " Yes," answered Gilbert : a shuddering shook 
 him this time unnoticed by his brother. " You 
 may know some day what it is to be in despe- 
 rate need and wanting a helping friend. When 
 that time comes, Gerard, remember how sharp 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 the ordeal lias been to which you condemned 
 me.'' 
 
 " I condemned you ?" 
 
 '^ Yes, you — my brother. Your wicked threats 
 of exposure here and at home, have well nigh 
 driven me mad ; and now that I have done what 
 you required of me, let me alone. Do not come 
 near me so long as we are ^up' here. When we 
 go home I will try to behave to you as I have 
 always done. I will spare no effort to do so, but 
 until the vacation I desire to be let alone." 
 And then, without another parting word, Gilbert 
 left the room, whilst Gerard, surprised and silent, 
 had not power to question him. as to the meaning 
 of his words. 
 
 '^The poor fellow's ill — excited,^' he thought. 
 "Perhaps annoyed at the wretched discovery I 
 have made, and afraid that Mariott should guess 
 tlie truth. That he shall never know from me. 
 Gerard went to bed, and laid an hour or more 
 awake devising the construction of the note to 
 be sent to Mariott in the morning. 
 
 On the next day, Julius Mariott, of Col-
 
 WAIT FOll THE END. 83 
 
 lege, Cambridge, when seated at breakfast, was 
 greatly surprised by the following note : — 
 
 " Dear Mariott, — You are sueli a good fellow, 
 that I am sure you will feel no offence at wliat 
 I write, and will heartily coincide in the course 
 which my brother and myself have considered 
 it our duty to adopt with reference to Gilbert's 
 winnings at various times of you and others. 
 
 '' My father is a man of very violent temper and 
 prejudices, and did he know that either of us had 
 disobeyed any particular injunction of his, I am 
 afraid — nay, I am sure — that the consequences 
 would be most serious to our future welfare. 
 One of the promises which he exacted from us 
 both on coming up here was, that we should 
 never play at cards for money. I am ashamed 
 to say that we have forgotten that promise. A 
 strong sense of the impropriety of this conduct, 
 and of the danger attending it, has made us re- 
 solved to throw ourselves upon your generosity, 
 and ask you to enable us, as far as it can be 
 done, to undo the past by not hesitating to receive 
 
 the enclosure. 
 
 o 2
 
 8-4 WAIT rOR THE END. 
 
 ''Mariott, you will not refuse us — you must 
 not. We know how repugnant such acceptance of 
 lost money must be to you ; but like a noble, good 
 fellow, waive your right to be angry and offended, 
 and place us in a position to tell our father, 
 should he question us, that we have not alto- 
 gether disobeyed his injunction or broken our 
 promise. This is, I grant you, a mean equivo- 
 cation at the best, but it is the nearest approach 
 to truth and right which we can make. You 
 will not refuse us, will you ? — I am faithfull}^, 
 "Gerard Norwold." 
 
 "What the devil am I to do?" thought Mariott, 
 when he had finished reading. "This isn't fair to 
 a man. Nobody ought to ask you to do such a 
 thing under any circumstances." He glanced at 
 the letter again, and did not feel quite so certain 
 of his conclusions. " They have put it in such a 
 way that it seems beastly to refuse them. And 
 yet I really can't accept — I can't. I should cut 
 with myself if I did — if that were possible." 
 Another hurried perusal of the letter left the
 
 WAIT rOR THE END. 85 
 
 young gentleman more undecided. "Well, it's 
 not foil', that's all I can say, to ask a man such, 
 a thing, and in his first term too. Suppose I send 
 it to some charity. Well, perhaps that gets over 
 the difficulty/' and Mr. Mariott walked out into 
 the High Street so obfuscated that he nearly 
 came to grief by passing no less than three 
 Dons without capping them. 
 
 How a single act of good or evil oftentime 
 changes the colour of all our future lives ? 
 
 Gilbert Norwold, so late the thoughtless, plea- 
 sure-seeking youth, was now a moody miserable 
 creature, made so by one guilty deed, which he 
 must hide for years to come within the secret 
 chamber of his own bosom. No, not from every 
 one. His mother must know the dreadful thing 
 he had done, and he would write to her at once. 
 He began to narrate the disgraceful story ; but 
 the words he wrote blinded him, and he tore 
 up the paper. To-morrow the confession should 
 be made. Another terrible night passed over, 
 and the theft he had committed appeared more 
 mean, more criminal, and he could not write
 
 86 WAIT POR THE E^'D. 
 
 down the record of Lis own degradation. He 
 would wait until lie returned home, and then 
 he w^ould tell her of his evil doing. The vaca- 
 tion was close at hand/ and then he would 
 confess to her his sin, and be forgiven. 
 
 Two days only of the term remained, and 
 his resolution had not strengthened; so, when 
 Mariott pressed him to spend a week with him 
 before he returned to Norwold Hall, the unhappy 
 criminal felt it as a reprieve, and thankfully 
 accepted the invitation. 
 
 The ailing man who suffers day by day from 
 some torturing malady, will often hesitate to 
 seek the aid of the physician, because he fears 
 to learn the worst or bear the pain of cure, until 
 those dreadful words, " Too late,^' are his sentence 
 to the grave. Gilbert Norwold was like the ailing 
 man, and his moral sore grew and grew, until it 
 killed his peace.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SACRILEGE AND MATRIMONY AT MORDEN. 
 
 The long vacation had commenced, and Gerard 
 had come home to Norwold Hall. He had under- 
 gone more than one wigging from Sir John on 
 his presumed extravagance, and borne them 
 patiently, convinced that his College bills would 
 bear scrutiny, and that he should deserve, if he 
 did not obtain, the parental blessing. Lady 
 Norwold, though dying, as she said, to embrace 
 her boy, was, nevertheless, glad at his temporary 
 absence, as Gerard had to sustain the first out- 
 burst of his father's ill-humours, and Sir John 
 was soon forgetful of most of his resentments. 
 
 Shortly after Gerard's return from Cambridge, 
 Sir John was much occupied with his magiste- 
 rial duties, as Morden church had been entered 
 and robbed of its valuable communion plate.
 
 88 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 almost under the nose of the beadle. On all 
 similar occasions, it ^vas Sir John's practice to 
 issue warrants against every person suspected of 
 poaching ; and although the accused were gene- 
 rally acquitted, the justice of the peace was 
 gratified in thinking that he had caused annoy- 
 ance to some of the vagabonds who preferred 
 night-walking after his game with the occasional 
 chance of goal allowance to hard labour for 
 eighteen-pence a-day, and the certainty of the 
 short commons such earnings could procure. 
 
 The scandal of this sacrilege made the local 
 authorities more than usually fussy ; for, strange 
 to say, in no instance of burglary had the county 
 constabulary been successful in discovering a 
 trace of the perpetrators, or of the lost pro- 
 perty. The only man in Morden who seemed 
 to have any particular suggestions to make on 
 the matter was Miller Ray, and he earnestly 
 advised that communication should be established 
 with the London police, as there was no doubt 
 but the thieves came from the metropolis, and 
 would undoubtedly dispose of their evil gains in
 
 WAIT -FOR THE END. , 89 
 
 the same locality. The suggestion was accepted by 
 the whole Bench as a very good one (although Sir 
 John insisted upon having a few poachers bagged 
 for his own satisfaction) ; and the clerk of the 
 court considered the facility with which Mr. Ray 
 drew up the particulars of the robbery as some- 
 thing remarkable in a miller. 
 
 Mr. Ray laughed, and assured the functionary 
 that it must be a natural gift, as he had never 
 cultivated it, and its development was only attri- 
 butable to the honest indignation he felt, in 
 common with the other inhabitants of Morden, 
 at the loss which the church had sustained, not 
 to mention his detestation of the perpetrators of 
 sucli an act. 
 
 Sir John being thus occupied, Gerard was left 
 to his own resources for amusement, and it was 
 therefore no wonder that he was daily with Jack 
 Spraggatt, who was an especial favourite with 
 every one at the Hall. 
 
 The Elms were more than usually attractive at 
 this time, as great preparations were in progress for 
 the marriage of Letty, Jack^s elder sister, and
 
 90 iiWAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 Gerard displayed such taste in assisting Lucy to 
 decorate tlie barn wherein the wedding breakfast 
 was to take place,, that he might have been born 
 the son of an upholsterer, rather than the heir 
 to an ancient baronetcy. A looker-on might 
 have thought that he occupied more time than 
 was really necessary in peering into Lucy^s pretty 
 face, asking her questions as to the effect of his 
 arrangements, or requesting assistance in carry- 
 ing them out, than became such an adept. Lucy's 
 face was very prett}^, certainly^ and when she 
 smiled, and her bright blue eyes sparkled also, it 
 was not an easy matter to look away from it. 
 Her rich auburn curls were fitting adornments 
 for such features, and almost wooed the fingers to 
 play with the silken tresses. Her voice, too, was 
 a pleasant sound to hear, making the commonest 
 words seem like notes of music. 
 
 Her figure would have been injured by any less 
 simple dress than that which she generally wore, 
 and flounces, and braids, and fringes would have 
 been as much out of keeping as they would be 
 upon Canova's masterpiece. Yet she appeared
 
 WAIT FOE, THE END. 91 
 
 unconscious of her beauty, although, no doubt, 
 she and her looking-glass were no strangers to 
 each other. She was well educated as middle- 
 class girls were taught then, and could sing and 
 play such simple songs and melodies as make the 
 music festivals of home. She had paid long visits 
 to London, and could talk of other things beside 
 farm-stock and poultry, and had not lost her love 
 for the duties of her country life, as the dairy 
 and store-room could testify. She was the light 
 of Jack Spraggatt's home, and he rejoiced in his 
 heart of hearts that it was Letty who was about 
 to leave them, and not Luc}^ 
 
 The wedding day was close at hand, and a 
 great day it was to be ! Jack Spraggatt was not 
 so lively as he ought to have been, Gerard said, 
 but Lucy thought she could divine the reason. 
 The bridegroom elect was a Erenchman, whom 
 Letty had met in London. He was a young 
 man of a good Protestant family, but the Sprag- 
 gatts had their national prejudices, and would 
 rather have had their new connection one of the 
 familv of John Bull. The fates had willed it
 
 92 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 otherwise, for Letty, who was a pretty, weak- 
 minded girl, and consequently very obstinate, 
 had, despite many domestic engagements with 
 the family, compelled them at last to lay down 
 their arms and surrender at her discretion. It 
 was Jack^s dislike to the Frenchman (or some- 
 thing else, perhaps), that made him very moody at 
 times, and a little cross when new expenses were 
 proposed, or the list of invitations was extended. 
 
 It is surprising what interest all women take 
 in weddings. Marriage is certainly a great event 
 in a young girl's life, and should be productive of 
 happy anticipations, even when her nurture has 
 been gentle and her home a loving one. Still, 
 there is change before her, a future which may 
 differ widely from the past, a newer love to be 
 trusted than the one that has watched over her 
 from the hour of her birth, and been prodigal of 
 all which has constituted the happiness of her 
 life. Alas ! no past, however free from cares, 
 can ensure a future equally happy, and the old 
 must die and leave the young to trust in one 
 another.
 
 WAIT rOR THE END. 93 
 
 It is wonderful, we repeat, the interest women 
 take in weddings, even in those where they them- 
 selves are not the principals. Mothers, sisters, 
 aunts, cousins, friends and servants, when a 
 wedding is in prospect, display a consequence 
 and an excitement entirely unusual with them. 
 The family conversation (and we doubt not that 
 of the collateral relations we have enumerated) 
 lapses occasionally into other subjects, but the 
 grand staple is of the bride and bridemaids, 
 wreaths, dresses, presents, and wedding-cake. 
 Money, labour, time, are all accounted subser- 
 vient to the one grand object, as though a great 
 sacrificial ceremony was about to take place, and 
 every one was bound to be prepared with an 
 offering. 
 
 The Elms was no exception to other house- 
 holds, and the number of volunteer needlewomen 
 was immense. Willing pens were busy day and 
 evening inditing invitations to friends distant and 
 near, until poor Jack thought that the Big Barn 
 would be fuller than it was before Miller Ray 
 emptied it. He ventured once or twice to hint
 
 91 WAIT POU THE END. 
 
 at a limitation of numbers, but sucli excellent 
 and unanswerable reasons were given why the 
 list should be increased rather than curtailed, 
 that he always retired discomfited. 
 
 Gerard invariably sided with the ladies, unless, 
 indeed, Lucy voted with Jack, and then he 
 thought no more of giving a plumper in oppo- 
 sition to the opinion he had previously expressed 
 than would a free and independent voter who had 
 listened to the eloquence of the late Mr. David 
 Locke during a contested election. 
 
 The wedding-day arrived at last, and the Big 
 Barn looked like a sylvan bower, so well had 
 Gerard and Lucy devised, and willing labourers 
 had worked. The tables were covered with 
 home-made delicacies, whilst the plate-baskets of 
 relatives and dear friends had been laid under 
 contribution, and their contents glittered as 
 brightly as the glasses. Lucy ran to take a 
 peep just before going to church, although 
 arrayed in her bridemaid^s dress of simple 
 white, dotted over with lilies gathered from 
 her own garden, and was surprised to find
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 95 
 
 Gerard there, giving the rustic servants the 
 benefit of his more refined experience. With 
 gentlemanly delicacy he had not called at the 
 house, as Jack had not presumed to ask him 
 to the church, although he had invited him to 
 the breakfast, and therefore Gerard came to Lucy 
 and apologised for the liberty he was taking, in 
 directing the arrangements of the wedding-feast. 
 
 Oh, that blushing cheek ; that radiant smile 
 which thanked him as much as the sweet voice 
 for such kindly consideration, and Gerard saw 
 and heard them long after Lucy had. gone to 
 the distant church, long after, when he had seen 
 no other face he knew for many weary months, 
 and when he sighed to think he should never 
 meet Lucy more. 
 
 None must believe them to be lovers. 
 
 Had Gerard Norwold suspected that he had 
 in his heart a spark of love for Lucy, he would 
 have crushed it out by his will remorselessly. He 
 was the heir to an old ancestry, and would have 
 died any death rather than have disgraced it by a 
 marriage with any one beneath him in station.
 
 96 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 He knew her only as dear old Jack Spraggatt's 
 pretty, graceful, happy, honest-hearted sister, and 
 so he esteemed her. Had Lucy believed that the 
 pleasure she derived from her association with 
 Gerard Norwold was other than the gratifica- 
 tion of a respectful friendship, she would have 
 despised herself, for she never forgot the diflTer- 
 ence of station which existed between them. No ! 
 none must believe them to be lovers. 
 The bridal feast was a merry one, and 
 
 " Laugliter holding both his sides/' 
 
 seemed to have taken the chair for the occasion. 
 
 The oratory was rather discursive, and the 
 metaphors somewhat mixed, but the hearts of 
 the speakers were in their words; and when 
 that is the case, any one, to our thinking, is a 
 Demosthenes. 
 
 Thresher's flails had made noisy clattering on 
 the floor of the Big Barn times and often, and the 
 drowsy bats, nestling in the roof, had slept on in 
 peace, but the hearty response to the health of 
 the bride and bridegroom, roused them from 
 their slumber, and scared them into the daylight.
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 97 
 
 Jack Spraggatt's face beamed with the sun- 
 shine in his heart, which did not leave it when his 
 French brother-in-law, M. Fichard, broke down 
 in his English, and finished his " return thanks " 
 in his own language, as though he had been the 
 personification of a French and English vocabu- 
 lary. 
 
 The bridal feast had lasted long enough — to 
 judge by the hubbub which succeeded, and the 
 general desire on the part of the gentlemen 
 to shake hands with each other; whilst their 
 happy, healthy faces, showed in the richer 
 brown which stained them, that the good wine 
 had reached their hearts as well as their heads; 
 therefore, a final glass was drank, and a parting 
 cheer was given so heartily that it overpowered 
 the church bells which had been ding-donging 
 for the last quarter of an hour as a summons 
 to the lingering bride and bridegroom. 
 
 The lawn at the Elms might have challenged 
 the county for a display of beauty and rustic 
 elegance. Matrimony is considered by the highest 
 authorities to be epidemical; and such whisper-
 
 9S WAIT FOU THE END. 
 
 ings and smilings, such daring attempts at press- 
 ing of fingers, and, in one or two instances, of 
 waist encirclings, that any one might have sur- 
 mised that more than a dozen couples, strolling 
 about Jack's garden, had taken the infection that 
 happy morning. 
 
 When the time arrived for the departure of the 
 happy pair, the poor pale face of the bride was 
 made rosy with kisses, as she passed up the 
 garden walk to the gate, and some agitated 
 young gentlemen became sufficiently confused 
 and excited to salute the bridemaids, whose 
 screaming was delightful to hear. Be merry, 
 happy youth ! Lose no innocent pleasure, nor 
 indulge in a sinful one ! Gather every flower 
 that your hand can reach. Listen to every 
 pleasant song that charms your ear. Dance ! 
 Dance ! whilst your heart is light, and be 
 thankful for your beauty, before wrinkles steal 
 into your face, or a silver thread shines in your 
 soft hair ! God gave you youth for enjoyment, 
 that the remembrance of its delights may come 
 back to you in age, and solace you with its happy
 
 WAIT FOE, THE END. 99 
 
 memories — but happy only Avhen pure and inno- 
 cent. 
 
 The bride and bridegroom departed with all 
 the time-honoured ceremonies, the old slipper 
 reposing in the bosom of M. Fichard's full-frilled 
 shirt. There were willing hands enough to clear 
 the tables, and prepare the barn for dancing, and 
 nimble feet to keep the town band constantly 
 employed in playing country dances, reels and 
 jigs, for as yet the solemn quadrille had not 
 been introduced generally to the Morden Terp- 
 sichoreans. Those were the dancing days of 
 Old England, putting to shame our shambling, 
 hopping, sliddering times, and hands across, down 
 the middle, up again, and pousset had been 
 performed twenty times at least before Sir 
 Roger de Coverley wound up the ball by ex- 
 hausting the most persistent dancer after a 
 bout of three-quarters of an hour, and so a happy 
 morning ended with a happy night. At least all 
 said as much the next day, excepting Gerard, 
 who having missed Jack from the ball-room for 
 some time, went in search of him. 
 
 n 2
 
 100 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 Jack was not in the house, and one of the 
 servants said she had seen him walking in the 
 garden. Gerard sought his friend in the direc- 
 tion indicated, and found him at last standing 
 in the shadow of a yew hedge, his face covered 
 by his hands and his broad bosom heaving pain- 
 fully. 
 
 '^My dear old fellow \'' said Gerard. ^' What 
 is the matter with you ?'^ 
 
 J ack recovered himself instantly, and answered : 
 " Nothing, Gerard ; nothing, really. The heat of 
 the barn — the excitement of the day rather over-r 
 powered me." 
 
 "Forgive me, Jack,^^ said Gerard, "but you 
 are not telling me the truth. Surely you do not 
 regret this marriage ? I know it was not a 
 matter you would have desired, but .'' 
 
 " I am glad, very glad, that Letty has found so 
 good a husband. Do not ask me to tell you — at 
 least, not now — what has disturbed and unmanned 
 me. It is something to be thankful for to know 
 that you, my kind warmhearted friend, can never 
 be unhappy from the same cause, unless you
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 101 
 
 create it by your own free will, and that I believe 
 to be impossible. No more now. Let us go to 
 
 my friends, and •. No, I will not ask you to 
 
 be silent as to what you have seen, for you are a 
 gentleman." 
 
 Jack returned with Gerard to the dancers in 
 the barn, and for the next hour was the merriest 
 of them all. It was not very long after that he 
 and Gerard made strange revelations to each 
 other. 
 
 As there was a bright moon that night — - 
 bright as the coming honeymoon, which was to 
 shine on a whole month of wedded happiness 
 — Gerard had arranged to walk home, having 
 engaged a bed at the inn in the market place, 
 as Sir John objected, when he was not the cause, 
 to the servants at the Hall sitting up. He 
 had entered the High Street, and was walking 
 leisurely on, when a man passed him, bidding 
 him " good night." Gerard returned the saluta- 
 tion, and at the sound of his voice the man 
 turned, and accosted him by name. 
 
 " Yes, I am Mr. Gerard Nor wold," he repHed.
 
 102 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 ''You are a friend, I believe, of Mr. Joliii 
 Spraggatt, sir,'' said tlie man. 
 
 'a am. What then?" 
 
 ''You have just left his house, I conclude? " 
 
 "Yes. What then?" 
 
 ''Do you know, sir, whether any of his men 
 servants sleep in the house to-night ? " asked the 
 stranger. 
 
 "That is a question I decline to answer," 
 replied Gerard. "As you are unknown to me, 
 I beg you to leave me." 
 
 " You would not, if you knew the motive I 
 have in making the inquiry," said the man. 
 
 " Perhaps so; but as I do not, I will thank you 
 to keep the way you were going, and allow me to 
 follow mine alone." 
 
 "Very well, sir," said the man. "It is of no 
 great consequence, perhaps. Good night, sir/^ 
 and to Gerard's surprise, he saw his unknown 
 questioner take the way to the river. In a few 
 moments he heard the plash of oars, and soon 
 after a boat struck against the opposite bank. 
 
 " Quite an adventure," he thought to himself.
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 103 
 
 *^ If he lias any intention of paying Jack an un- 
 seasonable visit, I should not advise him to select 
 to-night for doing so." Thus musing, Gerard 
 reached his inn without further interruption. 
 
 Jack went to bed soon after midnight, having 
 secured safely in the great oak chest the borrowed 
 plate, which had added so much to the splendour 
 of the breakfast ; but sleep came not. No, the 
 skeleton in the cupboard was waiting in his bed- 
 chamber to recall to him the past, and to remind 
 him of the present and the future. As he lay 
 thus occupied he heard the same creaking noise 
 as had attracted his attention when the window 
 hasp had been filed, and the old chest ransacked. 
 He rose at once, and opening his window noise- 
 lessly, looked out, and saw two men at work 
 beneath him. Before he could think upon his 
 course of action, a low whistle from the road 
 startled the burglars, and with the swiftness of 
 guilty men they fled up the garden, and joined 
 the confederate who had given the signal. That 
 man's figure appeared to be familiar to him. 
 Who was that man?
 
 104 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 Jack crept softly down-stairs, and was rejoiced 
 to find the great oak box safe as lie had left it. 
 He laid himself upon it and fell asleep.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 LUCY MAKES A CONFIDANT OF GERARD^ AND 
 HE BRINGS JACK TO CONFESSION. 
 
 Three claj^s after tlie wedding and its glories 
 had passed away, Gerard came to the Elms for a 
 day^s fishing with his friend Jack. He found 
 Lucy alone in the breakfast parlour as Mrs, 
 Spraggatt was indisposed, and Jack was busy 
 arranging the tackle in his own room. 
 
 Gerard was completely at home at the Elms^ 
 therefore he had entered without ceremony, and 
 was surprised to find Lucy so occupied^ with her 
 thoughts, that she was not conscious of his pre- 
 sence for some moments. Her thoughts were 
 sad ones, as Gerard read them, and it was not 
 until he had wished her good morning, that her 
 habitual smile returned, and bade him welcome. 
 As it was the first time that Gerard had ever seen 
 a shade of sadness upon those sunny features^
 
 106 WAIT FOE THE END. 
 
 he had during the few moments it had remained 
 there thought of Jack in the yew walk, and con- 
 nected the two meetings with each other. 
 
 The shadow had gone, however, hke the one 
 passing cloud on a summer sky, and all was 
 sunshine again in that sweet face, and placing 
 her hand in Gerard's with the freedom of her 
 honest friendship, she wished her guest good 
 morning in such a cheery voice, that he almost 
 mistrusted the evidence of his eyes. 
 
 Jack answered to her summons with a cheery 
 voice also, and instantly joined his friend at the 
 breakfast table. A capital breakfast it was, and 
 the two young men with a long days^ sport 
 before them did complete justice to it. Jack 
 managed to monopolise the talk, and seemed so 
 elated at his prospective holiday, that any one 
 might have supposed he had never had a day's 
 fishing since his school days. 
 
 "We will try Drayton water first, Gerard/' 
 he said; "there used to be the best trout in 
 the county from the mill up to the stone 
 bridge, unless the rascally poachers have taken.
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 107 
 
 them. If that fails us, we will drive over to 
 Basston^ and have a try for a jack or two. 
 I have sent on to the Drayton Arms, and 
 ordered some live bait to be ready. And Lucy 
 has packed up a hamper for dinner, so that we 
 may make a long day of it^ as the evening often 
 makes amends for the bad sport of the morning. 
 Our luncheons we can take in our pockets. 
 Dinner we will have at the Drayton Arms, and 
 old Mrs. Morgan will think herself well paid by 
 half-a-crown, and what the men will have to 
 drink. You^^e brought a couple of rods_, I see. 
 You need not have burthened yourself with a 
 landing net, as I have a couple. Another cup of 
 tea, Lucy, and tell Joe, when he comes home to 
 dinner, to take the black horse to be shod. He 
 ought to have seen that his fore shoes are worn 
 as thin as a sixpence. Pve not had a day's 
 fishing, Mr. Gerard, since we went out together 
 last autumn. Don^t hurry your breakfast, I have 
 a short note to write, and the chaise-cart will be 
 at the door by the time I have done — say half an 
 hour from this ; and Lucy you will see to the rest,
 
 108 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 dear, I know ; I shall not be more than half-an- 
 liour — no_, not more than twenty minutes," and 
 Jack left the room. 
 
 There was nothing in this common-place talk 
 to call up again the sad look in Lucy's face, yet 
 it was there, and Gerard saw it with some 
 anxiety. 
 
 " Jack seems in high spirits this morning, Miss 
 Spraggatt/' said Gerard; "but they are natural 
 to him, I believe?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Gerard;" replied Lucy, "that is 
 they used to be, and indeed when either my 
 mother or myself are present he is always 
 cheerful. But " 
 
 The hesitating manner with which she said this, 
 and then her sudden pause, assured Gerard that 
 Jack was not such a clever actor as to deceive the 
 sister who loved him. 
 
 "You were about to add something more," 
 said Gerard. 
 
 The tears came into Lucy's eyes, and she rose 
 and closed the door leading into Jack's room, 
 having first satisfied herself that her brother was
 
 WAIT rOR THE END. lOlJ 
 
 not there. She returned and took her seat again 
 quietly at the table, and looking at Gerard as she 
 had never looked at him before, for her eyes, were 
 full of sorrow, she said, almost in a whisper — 
 
 "Mr. Gerard, I know you are my brother's 
 friend — one that he values more than any other 
 in the world — and I have longed for some days 
 past to speak to you concerning him. For many 
 weeks before my sister's marriage, I observed a 
 great change in him. Whenever our conversa- 
 tion turned on that subject — and it did so neces- 
 sarily very often — I have seen his expression 
 alter, as though our, perhaps, silly talk of 
 dresses and arrangements pained him. Some- 
 times he would leave the room; but if he 
 remained, he seemed by an effort to recover 
 his usual cheerfulness, although his banter would 
 now and then sound very like remonstrance. '^ 
 
 " I fancy," said Gerard, as Lucy again paused, 
 '•'that Jack was not over pleased with vour 
 sister's selection. That was, perhaps, the cause 
 of what you observed.'^ 
 
 "I thought so, too," continued Lucy, ''until
 
 110 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 the wedding day had passed, but the hearty 
 manner in which he received Mons. Fichard 
 convinced me he had overcome his objections, 
 for Jack is no hypocrite, unless he is now prac- 
 tising an hypocrisy, which God forbid.'^ 
 
 For a moment her tears choked her utterance, 
 and then would have way. 
 
 " May I venture to ask,^* said Gerard, " what 
 you now think ? — that is, if you believe that I 
 can be of any service/^ 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Gerard, and it is because I think 
 you may be of service to my dear brother, that I 
 have been so bold, as to speak to you now. I 
 am sure he has some secret sorrow — some grief 
 which he will not let me share. It is nothing 
 shameful, of that I am certain, but he fears^^to 
 give me, perhaps our dear mother, pain by the 
 revelation. Yv^hat it is I do not guess even, but 
 I cannot let him suffer alone and be silent, when 
 so true a friend as you are to him is at hand.^' 
 
 " You make me proud to think I am so con- 
 sidered by you, Lucy. Tell me, do you think he 
 is in love?^' and Gerard smiled.
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. Ill 
 
 Lucy strove to smile also as slie replied, " No. 
 Jack is too hard to please to be in love, I fancy. 
 There was a most dear and beautiful friend of 
 mine that we once thought he admired, and oh ! 
 how happy I should have been had he done so ! 
 I am sure he would not have been an unsuccess- 
 ful wooer ; but shortly after my father's death, 
 Jack was so occupied with business matters that 
 he avoided all opportunities of meeting her, and 
 of late their intercourse has ceased altogether. 
 No — Jack is not in love/^ 
 
 "What, then do you desire? That I should 
 endeavour to ask his confidence ? " 
 
 " Yes ! Yes ! Mr. Gerard, do not let him 
 suffer alone. Tell him, if you will, that I 
 entreat him to confide in you, or if he dare, in 
 me — his sister. If his grief, whatever it may be, 
 can be shared by me, implore him not to keep 
 it from me, for there is nothing my love could 
 not endure or strive to do for the dearest, kindest 
 brother that ever a sister had." 
 
 Gerard did not speak until Lucy's tears had 
 ceased, and she again looked at him for a reply.
 
 112 WAIT POR THE END. 
 
 " I will make the attempt, Miss Spraggatt, and 
 I think I may not be unsuccessful" — the meeting 
 in the yew walk coming hack to him. " If I 
 succeed and find that I can he of help to him, 
 there is nothing I will not do. My power to be 
 of service is very limited." 
 
 '' Oh, no ! " said Lucy, the shadows all gone once 
 more — " oh, no ! for you can be his friend, his 
 confidant ; perhaps his adviser. And you will ? " 
 
 Gerard took the hand she offered now, and 
 pressing it between his own, vowed in his heart to 
 be a faithful knight and do the lady's bidding. 
 
 Before the growling old clock in the passage 
 had struck the half-hour, the chaise-cart was at 
 the door, and rods, creels, and hampers safely 
 stowed away, with Jack ready to mount beside his 
 friend, and only waiting to give Lucy a parting 
 kiss, as ever was his wont. When her lovely face 
 vras turned upwards to receive her brother's salu- 
 tation. Jack started and paused for a second ; but 
 Lucy threw her arms around his neck, and 
 kissing him a score of times ran into the house, 
 and waved them good-bye from the window.
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. llg 
 
 Jack gave a short cough, as they drove away^ as 
 though something had displeased or surprised 
 him. He was almost sure that Lucy had beea 
 crying. Why? Gerard could not have been 
 saying anything to annoy her, or — No, he was 
 too true a gentleman to cause her pain in any 
 way, and to excite false hopes would be to do a 
 cruel thing. So Jack soon recovered his good 
 spirits, and on they went to Drayton Waters, 
 where a man was waiting to take the chaise-cart 
 and horse to the Drayton Arms. 
 
 The anglers soon went to work, and a gentle 
 breeze, rufEing the surface of the water, gave pro- 
 mise of sport. W^e are unskilful in the practice 
 of the gentle craft, and have preferred to take 
 our trout and goodly perch in the pleasant pages 
 of honest Isaak Walton (as it is the phrase to 
 name that torturer of worms and live bait), and are 
 free to own that in our own piscatorial essays, we 
 have found our pleasure in the contemplation of 
 the bright stream and clustered water plants, and 
 flickering insects that haunt the drooping boughs, 
 or when stretched at length beneath the umbra- 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 WAIT POR THE END. 
 
 geous shadow of some stately tree, our rod and 
 line neglected in the stream — we have watched 
 the pale blue smoke our lips had breathed, curl 
 upwards to the clouds, and called our dreaming, 
 peace. 
 
 Nevertheless, we can imagine the ecstatic 
 pleasure others have professed to have known 
 at the success of their skill and cunning in hook- 
 ing a two-pound trout, or a formidable jack, the 
 tyrant of fresh vraters, or, braver still, the noble 
 salmon. How the prey was fairly hooked, and 
 played, and landed, makes better after-dinner 
 talk than much of the prosing of sages, philo- 
 sophers, and politicians. 
 
 As Gerard Norwold and Jack Spraggatt were 
 enthusiasts at the sport, both deeply learned in the 
 entymology of the craft, and clever manipulators 
 of silk and feathers to lure the wiliest fish ; and 
 knowing exceedingly in all baits whether ground, 
 live, or dead ; it was no wonder, therefore, that 
 Gerard on turning a bend of the stream, saw with 
 great pain his friend leaning on his rod, and busied 
 with other thoudits than how to fill his creel.
 
 ^VAIT FOR THE END. 115 
 
 So occupied was Jack Spraggatt tliat he did 
 not hear Gerard ^s approach until his friend's 
 band was upon his shoulder. The poor dreamer 
 tried to wake without a struggle, but the sorrow 
 at his heart made it impossible to conceal his 
 agitation. 
 
 " My dear old friend," said Gerard, " again in 
 the yew walk, for this good stream and this 
 favouring breeze are nothing to you this day. 
 Come, let us sit down and have a chat, Jack ; for 
 I am commissioned to drag this sorrow — whatever 
 it may be — out into the light." 
 
 "By whom?'^ asked Jack, with a frown. 
 
 "One whom you love the most in the world, 
 except your mother. Your sister Lucy! I have 
 given her my promise to speak to you — and no 
 better time than now. Let us sit down." 
 
 Jack obeyed, and, clasping his knees with his 
 hands, looked gloomily towards the stream that 
 flowed past so merrity. 
 
 Gerard then recalled word by word as nearly 
 as he could remember, the conversation with 
 Lucy, and as he did so, the face of his auditor
 
 116 WAIT FOE, THE END. 
 
 now flushing red, now overspread with a deadly 
 pallor, revealed how closely the recital touched 
 him. When Gerard had repeated all that had 
 passed between Lucy and himself, he added : 
 
 " I have now told you all, and you will believe, 
 my dear Jack, that I would not have attempted 
 to obtain the confidence I ask, if your sister had 
 not urged me to do so.'^ 
 
 " I know it,'^ answered Jack. " I know it. 
 I saw that she had been crying, and was puzzled 
 to guess the reason. Your question is soon 
 answered. One little word tells all the story .■'■' 
 
 " Love ? '^ said Gerard. 
 
 '' No ! " exclaimed the other— "Debt ! " 
 
 "Debt! is that all!" said Gerard, smiling. 
 But the expression and earnestness of his friend 
 almost frightened him. 
 
 '^ Is that all, Gerard Norwold ? I told you on 
 my sister's wedding night that you could not 
 understand the nature of my sorrow. That all ! 
 There is not a good gift that God has given me — 
 loving relatives, earnest friends, health, cheerful- 
 ness, a pleasant home, and welcome labour which
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 117 
 
 is not changed into bitterness by that accursed 
 debt. It comes to me in the dead of night and 
 breaks my sleep. It stands by my bed-side when 
 I lie down or rise up. It walks with me where- 
 ever I go, and sits at my table, only scared away 
 by the effort of a strong will and a sense of duty 
 to those I love." 
 
 " My dear Jack/* said Gerard, when his friend 
 ceased speaking, '' try and calm yourself. Let us 
 look this devil in the face, and see how we can 
 lay him. The mouse once saved the lion, and 
 I may nibble a hole in the net which enmeshes 
 you. How stand matters ? " 
 
 " You must have patience, and hear my story. 
 Until two days before my father's death, I 
 believed, whenever I thought of the matter — that 
 we were wealthy — wealthy for our station, I 
 mean. We all thought the same — my mother 
 and sisters. My father sent for me two days 
 before his death, and when we were alone, said to 
 me : ^ My poor boy, I leave you a sad inheritance, 
 I fear ; but you must not flinch from doing your 
 duty to those who will soon have no friend but
 
 118 WAIT FOR THE END, 
 
 you to provide for tliem. I will not dwell upon 
 particulars — enough that he told me during the 
 three preceding years he had met with great 
 losses, and that every endeavour to retrieve them 
 had only made bad matters worse, until he 
 should leave me many difficulties to overcome as 
 best I could, and which he believed, had his life 
 been spared, he could have mastered. He died, 
 dear, kind, ever loving father, and I took up the 
 load he had laid down only beside his grave. 
 Young and hopeful, I went to work with a will, 
 but I found matters much worse than I had be- 
 lieved them to be. I, too, tried by bold ventures 
 to redeem our fortunes, but all that I touched 
 turned out a loss. Wool, hops, corn, all went 
 against me, and now I see no help for it but to 
 sell off all that we have, and pay our debts.^' 
 
 " This is bad news, indeed, my old boy,^' said 
 Gerard. " You have friends — ." 
 
 ^' Yes, and they have stood by me to the utter- 
 most, and must not be losers by me. To go on 
 is to be completely ruined ourselves, and to ruin 
 others.'^
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 119 
 
 " Suppose tlie worst you have described inevi- 
 table, you are still young enough, and there is a 
 new world opening, we hear, to all Avho are not 
 afraid of work," said Gerard. 
 
 " Do you think that it is for my own future — 
 nay, my own present, that I care ? No, Gerard, 
 but when I see my mother's grey hairs, and 
 remember how many years of peace and honour 
 she has passed beneath our roof — when I see my 
 dear, dear sister, whose life has hitherto been 
 clouded by only one sorrow — my father's death, 
 and know that there will be no longer a home for 
 her — that she must fight the battle of life by my 
 side, and share my fortunes, be they what they 
 may, my heart grows sick, and I dare not — truly 
 dare not, disturb their present peace, although 
 I know J:heir dreams must soon be roughly 
 broken." 
 
 Por some time the two friends sat silent. Jack 
 b'eing exhausted by the pain his confession had 
 occasioned him, and Gerard, bewildered by the 
 difficulties which presented themselves, neces- 
 sarily, to one unused to business complications.
 
 1'20 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 "1 have been thinking," said Gerard, after 
 awhile, "what you ought to do with regard to 
 jour sister. You do her a wrong in not confiding 
 your position to her. She will not be so unhappy 
 in knowing all you have told me as she is now, 
 doubting the cause of your distress. She ought, 
 also, to be prepared for this change, if it be 
 unavoidable ; or, who knows ? her cleverness may 
 devise some mode of extrication for you." 
 
 Jack shook his head at this last improbable 
 contingency, and did not reply at once; but 
 springing to his feet, he took his rod and began 
 whipping the stream in, as Gerard thought, a most 
 inartistic manner. His success was commensurate 
 with his unskilfulness, and he returned in a 
 quarter of an hour with his creel no better 
 stocked than when he started. He held out his 
 hand to Gerard, and said, "My dear friend, 
 I have decided what to do ; I will take counsel 
 with Lucy — and you, if you will be of the 
 party. I will look matters boldly in the face, 
 and if it must come to an end in England, why 
 be it so. I have a friend there who is doing well.
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 121 
 
 He lias been some three years in the colony^ and 
 sends home very cheering accounts of his success"; 
 and what he has done, I may do. So no more at 
 present, but as j^ou have been cheated of your 
 lunch, let us go at once to the Drayton Arms and 
 have dinner." 
 
 They soon reached Mrs. Morgan^ s little roadside 
 inn, and put the worthy hostess into a fluster by 
 arriving an hour before the time appointed ; the 
 more so, as it was hay-making time, and the 
 labourers at the adjoining farm were waiting for 
 their " ^lowance o' beer.^^ The two friends, there- 
 fore, expressed their willingness to wait Mrs. 
 Morgan^s leisure, and strolled into the garden. 
 
 A rough country lane ran at the bottom of this 
 garden, and as Jack Spraggatt stood looking over 
 the hedge two men in a higgler's cart drove up. 
 The driver was a powerful flashy-looking fellow, 
 his broad-brimmed hat cocked knowingly on one 
 side, and his sharp fresh-coloured face peering 
 out of a series of bandana handkerchiefs tied 
 loosely round his neck. He wore a fustian 
 shooting coat with large metal buttons, relieved
 
 133 WAIT rOR THE END. 
 
 by a faded livery waistcoat. Altogether, lie was 
 not a very presentable person. His companion 
 was less objectionable in appearance, at least as 
 mucb as could be seen of him, as he was nearly 
 buried in a hat much too large for his head, 
 whilst his neck and chin were lost in the folds of 
 a worsted comforter, despite the heat of the 
 weather. A velveteen jacket, as much too small 
 for him as his hat was too large, was kept together 
 by a piece of string, and he held between his 
 knees a narrow square box carefully covered with 
 green baize, and which he embraced with both 
 arms, as though he owned a treasure that he was 
 prepared to defend Avith his life. 
 
 " Hallo, mister,^^ said the driver, addressing 
 Mr. John Spraggatt; "is this the way to the 
 Drayton Arms ? " 
 
 '^ Yes; the next turning brings you into the 
 main road,'^ replied Jack. 
 
 " Much obliged,^' said the man. " My friend 
 here in the hat undertook to pilot me ; but, as he 
 always travels a-foot, he brought me down this 
 infernal rutty road,' which has been nigh breaking
 
 WAIT FOB, THE END. 133 
 
 my springs and sending my fowls into fits. — Much 
 obliged/^ and then, he drove on. 
 
 " Who was that, Jack ? " asked Gerard. 
 
 " I don't know. A queer-looking fellow, who- 
 ever he may be, and one I shouldn't like to meet 
 on a dark night, without a thick stick for my 
 companion." 
 
 '' I know his voice/' said Gerard. " I seem to 
 have heard it very lately, and under unfavourable 
 circumstances. Ah ! I remember now ; it was on 
 the night of the wedding. He spoke to me in 
 High Street.'' Gerard then narrated, for the 
 first time, the conversation he had had with the 
 strange man who was so inquisitive about Jack's 
 household. 
 
 " That was a strange meeting," said Jack, '^ and 
 connects itself with an unpleasant circumstance 
 which occurred on that very night. I have never 
 spoken of the matter at home, as my mother is a 
 very nervous woman, and I did not wish to alarm 
 her." Jack then acquainted Gerard with the at- 
 tempt which had been made to force the window, 
 and also the result of the first visit of the burglars.
 
 124 WAIT FOE, THE END. 
 
 '^And wlio was the man you tliouglit you 
 recognised ? " asked Gerard. 
 
 "No, tliat would not be fair to the man I 
 suspect,'^ replied Jack. " It is more than pro- 
 bable that I was mistaken. We will have another 
 look at my friend the higgler when we have had 
 dinner.'' 
 
 Mrs. Morgan soon announced that Lucy's good 
 things were on the table, and the two friends, 
 both relieved in mind by the morning's reve- 
 lations, enjoyed their meal as though there was 
 not a care in store for either of them. Who that 
 has lived out half his life would seek to raise the 
 veil which shrouds the future; for though the 
 present has its sorrows and its trials, there is 
 hope to sweeten the bitterness of the cup. 
 
 The gentle breeze which had rippled the water 
 in the morning had gathered strength as the day 
 advanced, and brought up a thunder-storm, which 
 soon drove the haymakers from the field, and 
 some of them sought shelter in the Drayton 
 Arms. The rain continued after the thunder 
 had ceased, and then from the tap-room came
 
 WAIT FOE THE END. 125 
 
 sounds of a jingling melody, which defied the 
 knowledge of the two friends to determine by 
 what instrument they were produced. Their 
 curiosity became so excited that they resolved to 
 seek out the minstrel in the tap-room, and found, 
 on proceeding there, that it was the higgler's 
 companion, and that the mysterious case which 
 he had carried between his legs was a box sti^ing 
 with wires upon which he performed, hj beating 
 upon them with two sticks, and producing the 
 jangle which they had heard. The minstrel was 
 uncovered,"and showed to his dehghted auditors 
 a round smiling face^ in which were inserted a 
 pair of bright piggy eyes, peeping about from 
 beneath two shaggy brows, attached apparently 
 to his straight coarse hair, which had been 
 cropped by some artist, who was insensible to 
 the advantages of what a scientific operator would 
 call ^' pointing/' 
 
 On the settle which occupied the now fireless 
 ingle, sat the higgler, smoking his pipe and care- 
 fully scrutinising the assembled rustics. He 
 only gave a momentary glance at Gerard and
 
 126 WAIT POR THE END. 
 
 Spraggatt when they entered the room, as though 
 lie considered he had made a sufficient acknow- 
 ledgment for the civility of the morning. 
 
 "And what do you call that instrument?" 
 said Jack, when the player had ended his 
 tune. 
 
 '^ Dulcimer ! " answered the minstrel ; " thirty 
 years old ; belonged to my feather. He played 
 it, too. Like a song, gentlemen ? I sings as 
 well.^' 
 
 The proposal was accepted without a dissentient 
 voice, and the musician proceeded to administer 
 a course of verses which left the two friends in a 
 state of mental prostration from their endeavour 
 to extract the meaning of the muddle of sounds 
 he uttered. As Gerard, with Jack's assistance, 
 contrived at a later period of the afternoon, Avhen 
 they had secured the services of the minstrel to 
 themselves, to take down his utterances, we 
 venture to transcribe them, regretting that we 
 cannot convey the tune, and the manner of the 
 minstrel as he gravely delivered himself of the 
 following copy of verses : —
 
 WAIT FOE, THE END. 127 
 
 1. 
 
 *' I'll spread these green bushes although I am young, 
 So well do I like my love, so sweetly she sung — 
 Was there ever a mortal in so happy a state, 
 As I'd be with Floro, fair Floro so swate ? 
 2. 
 
 " I'll go to my Floro, and to her I'll say, 
 
 * We both will be married, it wants but one day.' 
 
 * One day ! ' says the fair one, ' that day is to come; 
 To be married so eai-ly, my age is too young. 
 
 3. 
 '"I'll first go to sarvice, and when I return, 
 We both will be married in the next town.' 
 
 * Will first go to sarvice 1 and leave me to cry ! ' 
 
 * yes, love ! fine shepherd ! I've toud you for why.' 
 
 4. 
 
 "As it happen' d, to sarvice, to sarvice she went. 
 To wait on a lady it was her intent ; 
 To wait on a lady, a lady so gay. 
 Who clothed fair Floro in constant array ! 
 5. 
 
 " A twelvemonth, or better, a letter he sent, 
 He wrote a few lines to know her intent ; 
 She wrote ' that she lived so contented a life, 
 That she never, no, never ! 'ud be a poor shepherd's wife.* 
 6. 
 
 " These words by experience appeared like a dart, 
 * I'll pluck up my speerit, and cheer up my heart 1 
 In hoping she never might write so no more, 
 Her answer consumed me as ofttimes before. 
 
 7. 
 « ' My yows and my lambs too I'll bid them adieu ! 
 My ship-crook and black-dog, I'll give them to you ! 
 My bagpipe and budget, I leave you behind, 
 Since Floro, fair Floro, has changed her mind ! ' "
 
 128 "WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 The rain having ceased at last^ the higgler and 
 his bard prepared to take their departure, and were 
 on the point of doing so, when two of the county- 
 constabulary drove up, and somewhat peremp- 
 torily ordered the higgler's cart to be taken back 
 into the yard. 
 
 "What's up now, gentlemen," said the higgler; 
 '^ you seem to know my business better than I do 
 myself. I don't want to stay here now the rain is 
 over." 
 
 The county constables were not accustomed to 
 be addressed so familiarly, especially when on 
 duty, and by a person of the higgler^s question- 
 able character. 
 
 "Don't you make a noise,'^ said one of them. 
 " Just step this way, whilst we have a word of a 
 sort with you.-'^ 
 
 " No objection in the world," said the higgler, 
 " so that neither on you is a member of parlia- 
 ment, and wants to talk by the yard. After 
 you's manners — Oh ! if you wish it certainly," 
 and the burly fellow swaggered into the little 
 parlour where Jack and Gerard were seated.
 
 WAIT poii THE e:nd. 129 
 
 "Ask your pardon, gentlemen/^ said the 
 higgler, not allowing either of the officials to 
 speak. "Ask your pardon for intruding, but I 
 do so at the request of these intelligent gentle- 
 men, who will now, perhaps, explain what is their 
 little game in detaining me." 
 
 The young friends were both known to the 
 county constables, who briefly apologised, and 
 then explained the purport of their visit. 
 
 It seemed, according to their statement, that 
 for some time past many burglaries had been 
 committed in the county, and evidently by Lon- 
 don thieves. It had been ascertained that where- 
 ever a robbery had been effected the higgler and 
 his companion had been seen immediately after- 
 wards, as some said, and often before, as asserted 
 by others. The magistrates had, therefore, issued 
 a warrant for the two men, and they had been 
 followed to the Drayton Arms, and intercepted 
 as we have narrated. 
 
 "Very well, gentlemen," said the higgler, 
 "you have got hold of some valuable informa- 
 tion, and I wouldn't mind laying glasses round 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 that some day you'll see a hole through a mill- 
 stone. "Now, just hear what IVe got to say. 
 You and your masters do this at their peril ; I 
 am an honest man, following an honest calling, 
 and so is my musical friend in the hat. I am 
 engaged in finding a particular breed of five-toed 
 hens for a noble lord in London, and that takes 
 me about to many places in and out of your 
 county. However, duty is duty, and I know you 
 must do as you^re ordered. I make no resist- 
 ance, nor does little Dulcimer. Only I wish to 
 say this, that 1^11 bet you more glasses round that 
 I'll meet you here, or at any house in Morden 
 io-morrow evening, provided I have my hearing 
 in the morning."" 
 
 '^Wliy, you impudent fellow," said Gerard, 
 unable longer to keep silence. ^'^Do you fancy 
 T do not recognise you as the man who spoke 
 to me, some four nights ago in High Street." 
 
 " Mr. Gerard Norwold has good ears," replied 
 the man, making a bow, " and I never contradict 
 a gentleman. Now, my men," addressing the 
 constables, "we are with you — I've only one
 
 WAIT YOR THE END. 131 
 
 more thing to say; be careful, very careful of 
 little Cobby^s dulcimer, for at tlie price lie sets 
 upoD it lie'll ruin you in damages, if you injure a 
 wire/^ 
 
 The officers and their captives soon drove oflP, 
 Jack and Gerard watching them from the inn 
 window, little dreaming then, how much the after 
 life of both of them was to be influenced by the 
 burly higgler. 
 
 k2
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE HIGGLER APPEARS IN A NEW CHARACTER, 
 AND DISCOVERS SOME UNUSUAL GRIST AT THE 
 MILL. 
 
 In the morning Jack Spraggatt acquainted his 
 sister Lucy with all his troubles, and Gerard, 
 who had arranged to assist at the family council, 
 was delighted when he arrived to find them sit- 
 ting in the summer-house, and talking cheerfully 
 of the future. " We both owe you a thousand 
 thanks, Mr. Gerard/' said Lucy, ''for compelling 
 this naughty boy to admit me into partnership in 
 his tribulations. They are sad ones, trufy, but 
 if I understand them rightly, as I think I do, I 
 see no cause for despair.^' 
 
 " No, no ! '^ cried Jack. " Nor do I now." 
 " Jack has one sad fault, Mr. Gerard ; he is 
 deficient in self-reliance. He will not look at the 
 future as a field wherein he may win victories.
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 133 
 
 but strews it over with the dead hopes of the past, 
 and is ready to surrender to the first difficulty 
 that approaches. Is it not so ? ^' 
 
 " Yes. I own it," answered Jack. " I do fear 
 the future when I see how many interests beside 
 my own are in peril from failure upon my part. 
 Lucy, dear, you should have been the man and I 
 the woman of this family." 
 
 '' If I had been, I would not have allowed my 
 poor little sister to have imagined all kinds of 
 dreadful things, when half an hour's quiet chat 
 could have made her as happy as I am now, you 
 naughty boy." And she gave Jack's broad cheek 
 such a loving kiss that Gerard almost wished that 
 he had been born a twin-brother of his yeoman 
 friend. 
 
 " We have been reading over this terrible list 
 of debts," said Lucy, referring to a sheet of fools- 
 cap paper which she held in her hand, and I see 
 nothing to fear so very much. Our creditors 
 are chiefly friends who have helped Jack through 
 many difficulties, and I am sure would not with- 
 draw from him now. We must all be more
 
 134 WAIT POE, THE END. 
 
 careful of our means, and learn to speak that 
 difficult word — No ! — and so I doubt not in a few 
 brief years to be emancipated from the slavery 
 of debt." 
 
 '*" Spoken like a brave^ true-hearted sister. 
 Miss Lucy," said Gerard, ^'and Jack will be 
 unworthy of you, if he ever shows the white 
 feather again. ^' 
 
 "White feather!'' replied Jack. ''1 hardly 
 think I have been a coward. I never feared for 
 myself; it was for those I loved — for those who 
 had trusted me. My dear Gerard, may you 
 never have like cause for such endurance. You 
 have no reason to fear it, as riches, honour, 
 station, are all before you ! May they bring you 
 the peace they should do when rightly used.'' 
 
 '^ Ah ! Jack, never was there a wiser proverb 
 than ' It is not all gold that glitters.' There are 
 sad hearts often enough at Norwold Hall," replied 
 Gerard. "That is the reason you are plagued 
 so frequently with my company. My father's 
 temper gets more violent, and now that he has a 
 personal call from the gout, there is little cause
 
 WATT FOR THE END. 135 
 
 for any one to envy my lady mother-in-law. 
 Our College bills arrived to-day, and such a 
 storm was raging in the breakfast-room that I 
 doubled back, and came on here to invoke your 
 hospitalityfi Lucy rose instantly, saying, " I am 
 so glad you have named it" — and then, pausing, 
 she placed her arm around her brother's neck, 
 and looked into his face so lovingly, that Gerard 
 thought there was nothing in Norwold Hall 
 either of art or luxury, that he would not have 
 exchanged wilHngly for such deep sympathy as 
 that look conveyed. 
 
 " My dear old Jack," she said, " we two may 
 soon be all that is left of our little household. 
 Our father awaits us in the happy land, and our 
 dear mother is hastening fast to join him. Our 
 sister Letty has a home apart from us, and we 
 shall regard her by-and-by as one whom we 
 have loved, but may see no more. We then 
 shall be alone. From this hour, then, promise 
 me, in the presence of your dearest friend, that 
 no sorrow — no anxiety shall come to you vrithout 
 giving me my sister's share. As I have partaken
 
 136 WAIT POK, THE END. 
 
 in tlie fruits of your labour and your care, I claim 
 a right to have my portion of the ill. I cannot 
 work with my hands, but I can with my heart, and 
 a few words of honest love — perhaps of woman's 
 wisdom, will make your burthens lighter. You 
 promise to do what I now ask of you ? " 
 
 Jack clasped her in his arms, and the big, 
 stalwart man — we must chronicle truths as they 
 arise — blubbered like '^ a great lubberly boy." 
 
 A brighter face, however, never shone through 
 tears in the course of a few moments than Jack's; 
 and the whole party, as happy as though all debts 
 had been really paid, and had not to be worked 
 for, hardly worked for, both with brain and hand, 
 passed through the porch into Jack's parlour. 
 
 There was nothing uncommon in the com- 
 ponents of Gerard's luncheon, yet never were 
 viands so grateful to the taste, or nut-brown ale 
 such incomparable tipple ! It was the last plea- 
 sant meal Gerard was destined to have beneath 
 that roof! 
 
 The last day's fishing which had passed so 
 strangely was to be compensated for by another
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 137 
 
 holiday in the ensuing week, and Lucy was 
 to be caterer again. Why should not Lucy 
 and her favourite gossips be of the party also ? 
 There were many pretty nooks by Drayton 
 Waters, where they could dine and make merry, 
 much better than in Mrs. Morgans tobacco- 
 smelling parlour. Why not ask some other 
 pleasant friends ? and Jack should take down 
 his fiddle from the peg, where it had hung for 
 twenty months or more, and recover his finger- 
 ing, and be prepared to make music to which 
 the rocks and trees might dance if they pleased, 
 like their classical ancestors. What a merry day 
 was in store for them ! 
 
 Time, the old scene-shifter, obeys no human 
 prompter's whistle. The fates have written out 
 his scene-plot, and as the changes are set down 
 upon that scroll, so will they come and go ; and 
 we, the actors, strut and fret our little lives away. 
 The curtain will soon rise upon our story, and 
 show a change indeed I 
 
 The saucy higgler had been as good as his word. 
 When taken before the magistrates — Sir John
 
 138 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 Norwold, despite his gout and ill-temper, being in 
 the chair — the higgler bowed respectfully to the 
 Bench, and appeared to be a very different man 
 to the noisy blusterer of the preceding evening. 
 The county constables gave their evidence with 
 the usual circumlocution, and promised to bring 
 forward witnesses to substantiate their state- 
 ments, if the prisoners were remanded for a few 
 days. 
 
 Gout and ill-temper concentrated in the person 
 of a justice of the peace, are not usually favour- 
 able to the interests of a prisoner, especially when 
 appearances are against him, and the higgler had 
 taken some pains to place himself at a disad- 
 vantage, so far as his wardrobe was concerned ; 
 and Cobby, the bard, though looking simplicity 
 or stupidity itself, was not sufficient to counter- 
 balance the unfavourable impression created by 
 his friend, innocently employed, as he said, in 
 searching for five-toed hens. 
 
 '^ Well, man,^^ said Sir John, " what have you 
 to say for yourself? This cock-and-bull story of 
 yours is not credited by the Bench. If youVe
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 139 
 
 nothing better to say for yourself, and that other 
 fellow who stands blinking like an owl, we 
 shall commit you on remand as the constables 
 require/' 
 
 '' Will your worship be kind enough to look at 
 this letter/-* said the higgler, coolly. 
 
 " No written characters here, sir," replied Sir 
 John. "We know how such things are con- 
 cocted, eh, gentlemen ? 
 
 " I hope you will not decline looking at that 
 paper, Sir John," said the higgler, very mildly. 
 "It will save your worships a great deal of 
 trouble." 
 
 " Here ! pass it to me — make haste, sir ! " 
 cried Sir John, to a slow moving usher. " You 
 officers ought to have been prepared y/ith your 
 witnesses, and not have given the Bench so much 
 trouble.^' 
 
 The letter had reached Sir John's hands by the 
 time he had done speaking, and he read it with 
 evident surprise. 
 
 " Dear me, very odd ! Gentlemen, we had 
 better adjourn to our private room," said Sir
 
 14.0 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 John, rising, the gout giving him an ugly twinge 
 at the moment, and producing an expletive not 
 quite in accordance with the judicial character. 
 
 As the J. P.s retired from the bench, the 
 sensation in the small court-house was immense ! 
 The only unmoved persons were the prisoners at 
 the bar, until the higgler whispered something in 
 the ear of the minstrel, which set that stupid 
 person into limited hysterics. The magistrates' 
 bell rung, and the spectators in court buzzed. 
 Now for the explanation ! No — the two prisoners 
 were ordered into the magistrates^ room, and in a 
 few minutes after an officer came out, to announce 
 sulkily that business was over for the day. 
 
 In the afternoon, the mysterious higgler and 
 his faithful minstrel were seen smoking their 
 pipes in front of the inn in the market place, 
 ■when the three o'clock coach from London drove 
 up to change horses. 
 
 Mr. Gilbert Norwold had arrived by it, as well 
 as a small parcel addressed to Mr. John Jones, 
 and for which the higgler had made previous 
 inquiry. He dropped it carelessly into the pocket
 
 WAIT POE, THE END. 141 
 
 of his shooting jacket, and continued smoking 
 his pipe until the coach and its attendant porters, 
 ostlers and idlers, had departed. The parcel con- 
 tained a letter, which appeared to dictate to the 
 higgler a cours# of immediate action, as he 
 instantly walked rapidly to the court-house, and 
 sought an interview with the town-clerk. We 
 shall learn more of his business presently. 
 
 Gilbert Norwold's reception by his father was 
 anything but affectionate or satisfactory. His 
 College bills were large — very large — and con- 
 trasted unfavourably with the more moderate 
 expenditure of his brother Gerard ; and as this 
 condition of things made Sir John's reproaches 
 more acute, Gilbert felt the anger he had nou- 
 rished in his heart for many weeks past against 
 Gerard turn almost into hatred. Humiliated 
 and wrathful, he sought his own room; and 
 recalling all he had lately suffered by the in- 
 spiration of Gerard, the moral poison worked 
 within him until it destroyed at once, and for 
 ever, all brotherly union between them. 
 
 As Gilbert's return had been unexpected.
 
 142 WAIT rOE, THE END. 
 
 Gerard had gone with Spraggatt to a neigh- 
 bouring market, and was, consequently, not at 
 the Hall to receive him. Gilbert was glad of 
 this ; the more so, as he had resolved, when he 
 could see his mother alone, to ^ make to her the 
 terrible disclosure of his turpitude. Lady Nor- 
 wold, however, had been so distressed by her 
 husband's violence in the morning, that she had 
 retired to her own room, and given emphatic 
 orders that she was not to be disturbed by any 
 one that day. Poor lady ! 
 
 Gilbert bore with this patiently, for he dreaded 
 the ordeal, and gladly accepted the compulsory 
 respite until the morrow. He was not destined 
 to be the arbiter of his own fate. 
 
 The Miller Eay had just sat down to tea in his 
 little parlour when the two county constables, 
 who had been so at fault in the morning, entered 
 the room without ceremony, looking like men 
 who were sure of their game this cast. The 
 miller started, naturally enough, at the advent 
 of the two officers, who, without waiting to be 
 questioned, declared him to be their prisoner.
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 143 
 
 " Prisoner ! Your prisoner ! '^ said Ray, with 
 a loud laugh. "Why, you are mad ! " 
 
 No, they were dull fellows enough, but they 
 were not mad. They had their wits— such as 
 they were — about them ; for one placed his back 
 against the door, and the other took his stand 
 at the open window looking into the miller's 
 garden. 
 
 "We've a warrant to take you into custody, 
 Mr. Ray, for the charge of being directly and 
 indirectly concerned in several burglaries in 
 this county and in London. The warrant's 
 signed by a Bow Street magistrate, and I pro- 
 duce my authority,'' said one of the officers. 
 
 Ray glanced at the strip of paper, and did not 
 iaugh again, but attempted to pour out a cup of 
 tea. His hand shook so violently that he aban- 
 doned the attempt. 
 
 " We are sorry our duty obliges us to trouble 
 you with these,'^ said the officer who had spoken, 
 producing a pair of handcuffs; "but we've no 
 choice in the matter, and must do our duty." 
 
 The miller's powerful frame shook from head
 
 144 WAIT FOR THE E:ND. 
 
 to heel as the glittering manacles were extended 
 towards him. 
 
 " Stay, my good friends. I will no; attempt 
 an escape ; but you have taken me so by surprise 
 — made such an unfounded charge against me — 
 that I am quite unmanned. I'll take a glass of 
 brandy, and ^^ 
 
 " No," said the officer, interposing, " how do 
 we know it is brandy you are going to take. I 
 hope you won't be rusty, but let me put on 
 the handcuffs like a man.^^ 
 
 "You are right to be careful. I know it is 
 your duty, and submit. You will not object to 
 send one of my men with a note to Mr. Jellifer 
 in the market-place ? ^^ said Ray. 
 
 The officer did not object, and Ray wrote a 
 few lines requesting Jasper's instant attendance. 
 The man was called, he who had witnessed so 
 unwillingly the signing of the papers a short 
 time ago, and dispatched with the letter. Ray 
 then sullenly submitted his wrists to the fetters, 
 and the three men sat in silence until Jasper 
 came in.
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 145 
 
 " What is the meaning of this ? '^ said Jellifer. 
 *' What has happened?'' 
 
 "I am in custody/' replied Hay^ deliberately 
 measuring his words as he spoke. "1 am in 
 custody on the charge of being concerned, 
 directly or indirectly, in certain burglaries com- 
 mitted in this county and in London. That 
 is the charge, I believe, is it not ? " 
 
 '^Yes, sir; them's the words of our warrant," 
 replied the officer appealed to. 
 
 "As the warrant is signed by a Bow Street 
 magistrate, I shall be taken, I conclude, to 
 London to-night." 
 
 Jasper sank into a chair, and appeared to be 
 overpowered by the perilous situation of his 
 friend. 
 
 *' I don't want a woman's nonsense, now," said 
 Ray. " I want a man to act for me. You must 
 follow me to-morrow, if you cannot come with me 
 to-night. You understand, and I shall expect 
 you. You will take possession of the mill, and 
 see that some one is put in charge whom you can 
 thoroughly trust." 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 WAIT FOU THE END. 
 
 " Oh, we sliall take care of your property, Mr. 
 Ray, depend upon that," said one of the officers, 
 with a smile. 
 
 Eay smiled also as he replied : " You are clever, 
 careful fellows, I don't doubt; but as I am 
 certain to be acquitted of this charge, I would 
 rather make my own arrangements." 
 
 Jasper promised to do all that was required of 
 him, and when he shook hands with Eay, as the 
 officers were taking him away, he found left in 
 his own a piece of paper, which he carefully con- 
 cealed until the final departure of the prisoner 
 and his escort. 
 
 On opening the crumpled slip he read thus : 
 " Secure all the papers in the H. C." Having 
 read the line twice over, Jasper tore the paper 
 into very small pieces, and then scattered them 
 to the winds. If he understood the meaning of 
 what he had read, he was too prudent or too good 
 a man to aid a suspected felon in defeating the 
 course of justice, and it was well for him that he 
 acted as he did, for standing near the window, 
 and looking into the room, was Mr. Higgler,
 
 WAIT POE, THE END. 147 
 
 in a very different costume to that he was 
 pleased to wear in the morning, as was Cobby, 
 the minstrel, also. They now had blue coats, 
 with metal buttons, and very bright red waist- 
 coats, which they were entitled to wear as Bow 
 Street runners. Cobby could not change his 
 stupid face, but he had removed the straight 
 haired wig and bushy eyebrows, and displayed 
 his own short crop of bright red stubble, and no 
 eyebrows at all. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Jellifer,^^ said Higgler, that being 
 his proper name, and in no way connected with 
 his ornithological calling, '' my friend Mr. Cobby 
 and I have come to relieve you from your respon- 
 sibilities, and take possession of the mill for a^ 
 short time." 
 
 "Very glad to hear it,'' said Jasper; "but 
 I suppose I had better send some one here for 
 the present." 
 
 "Well, perhaps you had,'' replied Higgler. 
 " Cobby, call the other constable." 
 
 Mr. Cobby proved his possession of other musi- 
 cal qualifications than those with which we are
 
 148 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 already acquainted, and by putting his two fingers 
 into his mouth, and distending his rubicund 
 cheeks, he produced a whistle with variations 
 that might have been heard, and possibly was, 
 in the market place of Morden. A feeble squeal 
 responded, followed by the appearance of another 
 rural thief-taker, and who had more the appear- 
 ance of a gamekeeper than of any other profession. 
 
 " Now, Master Johnny," said Higgler, address- 
 ing the new comer, who stared at the name pre- 
 sented to him, " Now, Master Johnny, help ray 
 friend Mr. Cobby and myself to remove this iron 
 chest." 
 
 There was not much difiBculty in efi'ecting this 
 operation, and when it was done a small trap 
 door was discernible on the spot the chest had 
 occupied. 
 
 « Locked, I fancy. Cobby ? " 
 
 "Yes," was the reply, "but you have the plan 
 in your pocket." 
 
 Higgler drew forth a piece of paper, on which 
 were traced certain lines and references, and 
 having consulted it, he went directly to the por-
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. l49 
 
 trait, or Hassarac's Cave, and pressing the secret 
 spring, obtained an insight into that ingenious 
 receptacle. 
 
 Producing from it two keys, tied together, he 
 soon unlocked the trap door, and discovered a 
 Hassarac's Cave, indeed ; for there lay, in admired 
 confusion, much plate and many jewels. Amongst 
 the former, the communion plate of Morden 
 Church, battered and defaced, was conspicuous. 
 Higgler expressed no surprise, nor did Cobby, 
 neither did Jasper, strange to say ; but possibly he 
 was prepared to learn the worst of Eay, having 
 once had his suspicions aroused. A careful in- 
 ventory was made of the various articles dis- 
 covered, and then the iron chest was opened. It 
 contained only Ray's account books, but one of 
 them was kept in cipher. This Higgler secured, 
 but upon Jasper objecting to its removal, on the 
 plea that it might be wanted in the business. 
 Higgler returned it to the chest with a knowing 
 smile at Mr. Jellifer. 
 
 " Let us see what more is inside this respectable 
 old party,'' said Higgler, standing on a chair and
 
 ir-0 V,'AIT FOR THE END. 
 
 looking behind the portrait, " some more keys, a 
 cigar box — extravagant rascal — a bundle of papers, 
 and a cash box. I wonder what that contains ? 
 Nothing valuable I expect, as it is unlocked." 
 Mr. Higgler glanced carelessly over the con- 
 tents of the box until he came to two pieces of 
 paper enclosed in the cover of a letter. He read 
 them very attentively, and then placed them in his 
 waistcoat pocket. It was surprising how uncon- 
 cerned Jasper had been throughout this dis- 
 covery of his friend^s delinquencies, but there 
 was a look of wonder in his face when Higgler 
 pocketed the papers. 
 
 " Now, Master Johnny, ask for a sack, and you 
 shall take these precious matters to the court-- 
 house in the cart you brought with you.^' The 
 constable obeyed. 
 
 '^ You^ll have to stay here, Mr. Cobby, for a time, 
 I fancy ; but no doubt Mr. Jellifer will see the 
 miller's maid — of course there is one ? — and take 
 care that you are made very comfortable. Eh ! 
 Mr. Jellifer.^^ 
 
 Jasper undertook to give instructions to have
 
 WAIT FOll THE END. 151 
 
 Mr. Cobby duly installed as master of the situa- 
 tion, although the miller's arrest had thrown his 
 terrified household into considerable confusion. 
 
 The cart having received its precious freight, 
 in addition to the portly persons of Mr. Higgler 
 and the county constable, was about to be driven 
 off, when Mr. Higgler beckoned Jasper to him, 
 and said in a whisper, '^Meet me at Norwold 
 HaU to-night, at nine.^^ 
 
 " At the Hall ! " said Jasper, turning very pale 
 at so simple a request. 
 
 " Yes, at nine o'clock, not a minute later, if you 
 please, Mr. Jelhfer," answered Mr. Higgler, like 
 a man not to be questioned, and ^then gave the 
 word to proceed. 
 
 Mr. Ray's case was very soon disposed of by Sir 
 John and his fellow magistrates, who had been 
 specially summoned; and the miller, escorted 
 by another Bow Street runner, who had come 
 down in the morning specially to take charge 
 of him, left Morden for ever by the afternoon's 
 coach. 
 
 Sir John had arranged to take an early dinner
 
 IT' 2 WAIT POR THE END. 
 
 "vvitli one of his brother magistrates, and though 
 suffering shghtly from gout, remained until nearly 
 nine o'clock, not having been able to resist the 
 temptation of some excellent old port selected by 
 the late Bishop of the Diocese. He rode home 
 unattended, and had nearly reached the house 
 end of the avenue when he was surprised by Mr. 
 Higgler stepping from the shadow of a tree and 
 politely requesting permission to speak a few 
 words with him in private. 
 
 'MVhy not have told me your business this 
 afternoon, Mr. Higgler — I have had enough of 
 justice for one day. Won't to-morrow do ?" 
 
 " No, Sir John, as I must return to London by 
 the earliest coach I can get, and my communica- 
 tion concerns you and your family so nearly, that 
 I am sure you^ll excuse me making so bold as to 
 ask you to listen to me now.^^ 
 
 " What out here in this night air. No, I 
 
 if I do. 
 
 "As you please. Sir John, only it must be 
 where we are alone," replied Higgler. 
 
 ''What's in the wind now?'' cried Sir John,
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 153 
 
 "Come along after me, Higgler — We'll stop at 
 the keeper's cottage." 
 
 The cottage was close at hand, and the keeper 
 out on his evening round, so the wife was sent 
 on to the Hall with the quiet old cob, and Sir 
 John and the officer were left alone. 
 
 " Now then. Higgler, make haste and tell me 
 your business. My gout promises to be trouble- 
 some to-night, and I want to get to bed early. 
 What is it?'' 
 
 Higgler had opened the door leading into the 
 back kitchen, to satisfy himself that there were 
 no listeners, — an act of professional caution, — 
 and then standing by the table, at which Sir John 
 was seated, he said : " When searching the hiding 
 places in the house of the man Ray, this after- 
 noon, I lighted in one of them, on two bits of 
 writing, which as they have nothing to do with 
 the charges under investigation, I took the 
 liberty of putting into my pocket." 
 
 "Well, what are they about? Let me see 
 them," said Sir John, testily, as his foot was 
 getting rather painful.
 
 154 WAIT POR THE END. 
 
 " One moment, if you please, sir ; I fancy they 
 will surprise you even more than they did me, 
 and 1 wish you to consider them as coolly as you 
 can," observed Higgler. 
 
 '' Fm always cool, sir ! Always when business 
 is before me. Give me the papers.'' 
 
 Higgler presented 'one of them, but as the light 
 was failing, the Baronet requested him to read it, 
 as he already knew its contents, and Higgler did 
 so. It was Gerard's engagement to repay any 
 money advanced to his brother, and was worded 
 as follows : — 
 
 " I undertake to repay you any sum you may 
 advance, provided the money is forthcoming 
 immediately. " Gerard Norwold." 
 
 The date was within a month of the time of 
 this conversation. 
 
 "What^s that?" cried Sir John, springing up 
 and snatching the paper from Higgler's hand. 
 He hurried with it to the window. When he had 
 read it, he exclaimed, "The young scoundrel.
 
 WAIT FOll THE END. 155 
 
 I remember about that time he applied to me 
 for 50/., and I refused him. And then he had 
 recourse to a common thief," — but our page 
 must not be sullied by the fearful words that 
 came from the lips of the infuriated man. It 
 was some time before he could speak calmly, at 
 last he said : " Well, Higgler, that money must 
 be paid, thief though the fellow be who lent it. 
 You must see to that for me. Well, now for the 
 other paper ! What's that about ? " 
 
 " I really fear to give it to you. Sir John, 
 seeing how you are afiPected by your son's 
 indiscretion/^ 
 
 " Indiscretion, why — but never mind, I have 
 had my burst out, and I won't give way again," 
 said Sir John, holding out his hand for the paper. 
 He paused, however, and then asked Higgler to 
 read it to him. 
 
 It was a sad record. 
 
 '^ ' I hereby acknowledge to hold as security for 
 the sum of two hundred and fifty pounds, ad- 
 vanced by me to Mr. Norwold,^ '' Higgler paused.
 
 156 WAIT POR THE END. 
 
 " Go; on ! sir, go^ on ! There can't be anything 
 Tvorse than that/' 
 
 '' Don't be so sure^ sir/' said Higgler, who then 
 continued to read. " ' A miniature portrait of Sir 
 John Norwold, set with diamonds. The same to 
 be returned, when the said sum of 250/. is repaid 
 tome. ^'Eaymond Kay."' 
 
 The date a day after the other. 
 
 Sir John did not move when Higgler ceased 
 reading, neither did he say one word until a 
 little stream of blood trickled from one of his 
 nostrils. The relief thus afforded soon restored 
 him to himself again, and he spoke much more 
 quietly than he had done before during the 
 interview. 
 
 " My good fellow, you have rendered me a great 
 service in bringing these papers to me. I don't 
 understand them at present, but I will before I 
 sleep. My honour, the honour of all my family, 
 dead and living, is concerned in this matter, 
 perhaps. You shall not go unrewarded for your 
 consideration. You see I am not quite myself
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 157 
 
 just now. I shall be in the morning. Don't you 
 leave Morden without seeing me again, and I will 
 hold you harmless with your superiors. Good 
 night, Mr. Higgler.^^ 
 
 As he said this, he folded the papers carefully 
 one Avithin the other, and placed them in his 
 pocket, and, having repeated his valediction two 
 or three times, strode at a rapid pace to the 
 Hall, as though the gout had never been known 
 to him. As the hall door was unfastened until 
 the family retired to rest, Sir John entered freely, 
 and passed at once to the drawing-room, in which 
 were seated Lady Norwold and Gilbert, she having 
 left her room on hearing of her son^s arrival. 
 They both were reading. When she looked up, 
 hearing the door open, she was alarmed and 
 terrified at her husband's appearance, as the 
 blood had stained the large frill of his shirt, 
 and his face was deadly pale. 
 
 " O my dear Sir John, what has happened ? 
 Are you hurt ? ^' 
 
 " Yes," he replied ; " but not as you suppose. 
 Come with me ; I want you ! "
 
 158 WAIT POR THE END. 
 
 Gilbert sat panic-stricken as liis mother left 
 the room. No other word had been spoken than 
 those we have recorded ; but he knew — he felt 
 certain that his guilty secret had been discovered, 
 and he was lost ! utterly lost ! He could not 
 have moved ! he could not have spoken one word, 
 even to have saved himself from ruin, for his limbs 
 were powerless, and his tongue dried up within 
 his mouth. No chance of escape ! None. All 
 the evil he had done and thought, to hide this 
 miserable theft, had been wickedness in vain. 
 
 Unless — he went on ? Ah ! there was another 
 pact to be made with the fiend that had so 
 tempted him ! -Would he listen to it ? 
 
 When Sir John had reached the drawing- 
 room containing Lady Norwold's cabinet, he 
 paused, and looking his wife in the face, said 
 slowly : '^ Emily, on your honour as a wife — as a 
 noble lady, answer me truly. Have you ever — 
 for any purpose — at any time — lent valuables to 
 my son, or to our son ? " 
 
 '^ My dear husband, never ! " replied the wife. 
 
 " Then open that cabinet.^^
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 159 
 
 It was done. 
 
 "Take out your jewels. No; not those. Ah ! 
 that case." 
 
 As she removed the object to which he had 
 pointed, he took it from her saying, " What 
 should this contain ? '' 
 
 " Your miniature ; the one you gave me on 
 your birthday the first year of our marriage." 
 
 He opened it, and showed her that it was 
 empty. 
 
 Lady Norwold gave a shrill scream — it reached 
 Gilbert sitting in the drawing-room — and then 
 she swooned in her husband's arms. 
 
 Her cry brought some of the servants to her 
 assistance, and when she recovered, and before 
 Sir John could say more, she proclaimed her loss, 
 but not knowing whom to accuse. When she 
 became calmer. Sir John conducted her to the 
 drawing-room just as Gerard had returned from 
 his pleasant holiday with Jack Spraggatt. 
 
 '^ You have returned in good time, sir,^^ said Sir 
 John to Gerard, before he could greet his brother. 
 "Stand where you are until I have done with you.
 
 160 WAIT TOR THE END. 
 
 You know a man, a dishonest tliief, named Ray- 
 mond Ray." 
 
 "No, sir, I do not!'' 
 
 " You are a liar, sir ! a liar to' your father. Is 
 not that your writing?''— and Sir John showed 
 him one of the papers. 
 
 " Yes, Sir John, I own that to be my writing ; 
 
 but " Gerard paused, it was his brother's 
 
 secret, not his, that was asked of him. 
 
 "This morning that paper was in Ray's pos- 
 session, and yet you dare lie to me, and say the 
 man was unknown to you." 
 
 " I do not lie, Sir John, nor shall you say so 
 uncontradicted," replied Gerard, his blood rising 
 at the accusation. "I own the paper to be my 
 writing — the obligation to be mine, and for no 
 unworthy purpose." 
 
 " There was more money had from that man — 
 a much larger sum." 
 
 " Yes, there was a larger sum required and 
 obtained." It was Gilbert's secret still that was 
 demanded from him. 
 
 " On what security ?"
 
 WAIT EOR THE END. 161 
 
 Gerard raised his shoulders merely in reply. 
 
 " Again, I demand to know on what security ? 
 If you do not at once reply, and reply truly, 
 though you are my son — my heir," (no ! the 
 oath must not be recorded), " I will turn you out 
 into the world a beggar." 
 
 Gerard knew his father's violent temper, and 
 guarded his reply, 
 
 *^ I cannot tell you the security that was given." 
 
 "You dare not, you degenerate cub. You dare 
 not confess that you have so far forgotten your 
 father^s name, your dead ancestors, your own 
 honour, as to own that you have stooped to be a 
 thief, and the companion of thieves." 
 
 " This is past endurance. Sir John Norwold. 
 You forget that you are my father, and compel 
 me to lose a son^s reverence. I tell you that you 
 speak words you would not dare utter to any 
 other man living that claims to be a gentleman." 
 
 " A gentleman ! You have lost the title to be 
 called even an honest man. Eead that paper, if 
 the words do not blind you — there is evidence of 
 your shameful theft !" 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 163 WAIT FOE THE END. 
 
 Gerard took the paper, and as lie read it, a 
 faintness overcame him, for he divined the truth ! 
 Whilst he stood thus overpowered. Sir John, 
 whose rage had risen to its height, turned to 
 Gilbert, who almost crouched at his mother's 
 side, and said with violent action and terrible 
 words: "You knew of this? You must have 
 known of this ! and you were silent ? Speak 
 fellow!" 
 
 " He is my brother, sir. He is my brother ! '^ 
 
 Those words which the Evil One spoke by the 
 mouth of Gilbert sealed Gerard^s fate. 
 
 With fearful oaths the maddened father drove 
 his generous son forth from his home that night 
 never never again to stand beneath its roof. The 
 father's curses clung about the walls long after 
 they were uttered, and not even the purifying 
 fire could destroy the memory of them !
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 GERARD HAS NEED OF TRUE FRIENDS, AND FINDS 
 THEM. NOT SO MILLER RAY. 
 
 The moon in the heavens was as bright as 
 Gerard^s young life had been an hour before, but 
 at intervals it was obscured by clouds, black and 
 impenetrable as the change which had come upon 
 him. He remembered walking from the lighted 
 drawing-room through the crowd of domestics 
 assembled round the opened doors, and passing 
 down the stairs and through the hall, out unto 
 the park. He remembered passing down the 
 old avenue, dark as a great vault, and seeing the 
 glittering of the lights in the town of Morden, 
 hearing all the while the loud voice of his excited 
 father repeating the awful words which cursed 
 him and sent him forth a wanderer. His walk 
 through Nor wold Park, from the Hall to the 
 little bridge which crossed the mill-stream never
 
 164 WAIT rOR THE END. 
 
 left his memory — never. He believed that lie 
 must have crossed the river without going 
 through the market-place^ but why he did so he 
 could not conceive, as he remembered nothing 
 more than this — that when he had crossed the 
 mill-stream he entered the church porch — ^his dead 
 mother was at rest within the church — and there 
 he vowed never again to set foot in Norwold 
 Hall ! Never to see his father^s face again ! That 
 when the night should have passed, he would be 
 " as one that was dead.^^ And once he tried to 
 pray to be forgiven his trespasses, as he should 
 forgive them who had trespassed against him ; but 
 he felt the words he uttered were only words. His 
 thoughts were all entangled one with another ! 
 The bright drawing-room, the dark avenue, the 
 passionate father, the listening servants passed 
 and repassed before his eyes, whilst the awful 
 words which cursed him, and made him an out- 
 cast, were roaring in his ears. 
 
 Jack Spraggatt had put on his slippers prepa- 
 ratory to going to bed, and Lucy had risen also, 
 when they heard a violent thud at the front door.
 
 ^VAIT FOR THE END. 1G5 
 
 as though some heavy body had fallen against it, 
 and then followed a rapid knocking. Jack had 
 the heart of a lion, so he hastened to answer the 
 summons ; and Lucy, who was as brave as a loving 
 woman always is, followed, carrying a light. Jack 
 asked who knocked ? 
 
 " Gerard Nor wold. '^ 
 
 Absurd, that was not Gerard's voice, those 
 hollow, husky sounds. The door was opened at 
 once, and there, with haggard face, great staring 
 eyes, red as fire, and disordered hair, — no hat had 
 been cared for — stood the dearest friend of the 
 household, Gerard Norwold. 
 
 Before either Jack or Lucy could speak a word, 
 he stalked into the parlour, and sat himself 
 down in the chair which death had made vacant, 
 looking not unlike the phantom of himself. 
 Jack^s bold heart beat so fast that he could not 
 question his friend; whilst Lucy, with ready 
 coolness, mixed some brandy with water, and 
 then held the glass to Gerard's lips, who drank 
 the draught readily. It revived him, and he 
 seemed to recognise the place — the friends — and
 
 IGG AVAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 then covering his face with both his hands^ he 
 gently sank down on his knees, and crouched, 
 as it were, upon the ground. 
 
 Lucy and Jack knelt down on either side of 
 him, and implored him to speak. Speak ! when 
 great sobs were bursting from his heaving breast, 
 and hot tears flowing from his burning eyes. 
 
 He suffered himself to be raised up after a 
 time, and when he was calm enough to articulate 
 words — the words were nothing, but his passionate 
 utterance kept the listeners silent — he said : 
 
 "My friends — my only friends now in the 
 world, I have come to you in the excess of my 
 misery — I know not why — I know not for what — 
 but I have come here without reasoning — by the 
 mere instinct of our long friendship. Jack — and 
 of yours, Lucy Spraggatt — knowing I should 
 find some human thing that would not look at me 
 like a fiend, curse me like a fiend, and drive me 
 out into the world as though I were the wickedest 
 creature living.'^ 
 
 He paused, but before either of his auditors 
 could speak, he went on as though unwilling to
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 167 
 
 be interrupted, until he had "unpacked his 
 heart/-' 
 
 " To-night — to-night my father — before his 
 wife, before his servants, has called me a thief, 
 and with horrible, most horrible curses, turned 
 me out of his house. Do either of you believe 
 me a thief?" 
 
 He started up, and looked at his two listeners. 
 
 '^I see you do not. If I had seen the shadow 
 of doubt in your face, Lucy, or in yours, Jack, I 
 should have gone mad I^stark mad !" 
 
 Again the sobs and tears ! 
 
 " Gerard Norwold a — — . No ! I will not 
 repeat the word," cried Jack. " Nor can I guess 
 why such an epithet could be applied to you — 
 and by your father? " 
 
 '^ Yes, by my father 1 my own father ! No 
 inquiry ! No consideration of circumstances ! 
 But a conclusion formed in passion, in madness ! 
 and he has dared to stigmatise me — his heir — his 
 own flesh and blood, as a thief! a mean, dis- 
 honourable thief ! And those who listened 
 believed it ; for not one of my kindred, not one of
 
 1C8 WAIT FOE, THE END. 
 
 the servants, who had known me from my cradle, 
 dared to deny the possibility of such a name 
 being deserved by me/' 
 
 He walked rapidly up and down the room, and 
 no one spoke for some time. 
 
 " I confess, Gerard," said Jack, " that I am at 
 a loss to understand what has happened. If it 
 will not distress you, tell me; or perhaps you 
 would rather go to rest, and in the morning " 
 
 '^In the morning, Jack, I hope to be many 
 miles away from here. Don^t interrupt me, if you 
 please. I wish, when I can master myself, to tell 
 you what has occurred.'^ 
 
 " Perhaps, Mr. Gerard, I had better leave the 
 room," said Lucy. 
 
 " No, Lucy — no — I wish you to hear from my 
 own lips a story that will be repeated, I doubt 
 not, often enough when I am gone. I could not 
 endure to think that you should ever have occa- 
 sion to blush that you have owned me for a 
 friend.'^ 
 
 He then as calmly as though nothing particular 
 had occurred, revealed the events of the evening.
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 161) 
 
 from the time lie had parted from Jack, dwelling 
 upon the minutest details, naming the people he 
 had seen, the objects which had attracted his 
 notice, as though he were anxious to delay reach- 
 ing that point in his narrative when his father 
 made the cruel accusation against him. 
 
 ^^ From that time," he said, " I remember 
 nothing distinctly, except my father's awful 
 curses, and his damnable accusation. If any- 
 thing else was said, I heard it not — I saw no- 
 thing but that incensed and cruel man, until I 
 tm'ned away to quit his house, and then I met 
 the glaring faces of the servants ! I know that 
 they stood on either side to let me pass through 
 them — that the hall-door was open] to hasten 
 my departure. That the avenue looked like a 
 monstrous vault, which the glittering lights be- 
 yond made darker and more dismal. I turned 
 to look back once upon the old Hall. It was 
 discernible only by the lights seen through the 
 windows. A momentary burst of moonlight fell 
 upon it, and then the dark thick clouds hid it 
 again. I stood in the church-porch, as it were, by
 
 170 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 my mother's grave, and vowed to renounce home, 
 name, and kindred for ever ; and I will keep my 
 oath. How I came here I know not. I know 
 that you two were every now and then in my 
 mind, and so I wandered on, I suppose. You 
 have heard my story — Lucy — Jack — and when it 
 is told by others, I know you will deny — as I 
 do now from the depths of my heart — that I 
 ever did knowingly, a dishonourable act in my 
 short life. Now, good-bye, my dear old friends. 
 Give me some covering for my head, and I will 
 be off again." 
 
 "Not to-night, Mr. Gerard/' 
 
 *^Yes, Lucy, to-night. In the pauses of our 
 conversation I have resolved upon the course I 
 mean to take. If that proud, passionate old man 
 has one spark of a father's love in his heart, I will 
 blow it into a flame which shall torment him to 
 repentance." 
 
 "Surely," said Jack, "you will make an effort 
 to disprove the charge made against you." 
 
 " I might have done so had I had a father to 
 deal with, and not a madman. To free myself, I
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 171 
 
 must condemn others to tlie same fate as that my 
 father has decreed to me. The vow I made to- 
 night — rash^ wicked, as it may be — I will keep. 
 My dear friends, good-bye. I am obeying my 
 father, my wicked unjust father, and parting from 
 you is not the least of the miseries to which he 
 has condemned me." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Gerard, '^ cried Lucy, clasping his 
 hand in hers. " Do not ! do not go away to- 
 night with such a troubled spirit as now pos- 
 sesses you. Stay here until the morning ; — stay 
 here until you have prayed to God to guide 
 you aright, and go not away with only your great 
 wrong and your bitter grief to direct you. You 
 have always been good, noble and generous, and 
 be sure that your father will remember this to- 
 morrow, and know that he has been deceived, and 
 you will be dearer to him than you have ever 
 been, and he to you." 
 
 " Lucy, he has cursed with the words of a 
 fiend — he has believed me capable of dishonour. 
 Neither love, nor the recollection of what my 
 past life has been, weighed as one feather in my
 
 172 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 favour. He has driven me fortli, and the punish- 
 ment shall be shared between us ! I can endure, 
 and I will revenge my wrongs." 
 
 '• It is right to endure^ it is wrong to revenge," 
 said Lucy, as though a reproving angel spoke. 
 " Do not, Mr. Gerard, leave us to-night. Stay here 
 for a few days, at least, until you have recovered 
 from the first shock of this unaccountable injury. 
 You cannot find more truthful, loving friends 
 than you have here, and you have seen in our own 
 case so recently that it is not good to bear our 
 grief alone. Think me your sister, Mr. Gerard, 
 and believe what I would do to comfort you in 
 this distress. The neglected scratch, so slight in 
 itself, grows dangerous and painful; the ghastly 
 wound, deep almost to death, is rendered often an 
 aid to future health when carefully tended, even 
 by unskilful hands. Let us be your surgeons, Mr. 
 Gerard. Do not leave us with this great wound 
 in your heart, which may become so dangerous as 
 to destroy your peace of mind for ever." 
 
 "You will stay, Gerard, I am sure you will," 
 said Jack, trying to take his friend's hand ; but
 
 WAIT FOE, THE END. 173 
 
 he drew it away, closing his fingers firmly- 
 together. 
 
 ^' I dare not stay near that accursed house 
 yonder, remembering what has been said, and 
 knowing who are within its walls. Chance might 
 make me a parricide. No, I will fly beyond that 
 danger. I dare not pray, or I would say, God 
 bless you both.'' 
 
 *' Stop one moment, Gerard ! " He was moving 
 towards the door. " Since you are determined to 
 go, you must not go alone ; I shall go with you. 
 Lucy, my boots, dear." His sister was not sur- 
 prised at Jack's resolution. She knew that he 
 would not desert his friend in the strait in which 
 he was, and left the room, returning in a few 
 moments, bringing a fur travelling cap belonging 
 to herself, as all her brother's head-gear was 
 much too large for Gerard. 
 
 ^^ What is this ? '' he said. '* I remember ! your 
 travelling cap, Lucy. Thanks ; I am glad to carry 
 something of you with me. It will help to keep 
 down evil thoughts, perhaps, and to remind me 
 that one spot on earth contains two friends true
 
 174 WAIT rOE THE END. 
 
 as steel." As though it were a thing of course, 
 he took her head between his hands, and kissed 
 her forehead. "I will go into the porch whilst 
 you get ready, good, true, honest, old Jack," and 
 then he left the room. 
 
 Jack soon pulled on his boots, and stowed 
 away the flask which Lucy had filled, and 
 hastened to join Gerard; but when he looked 
 into the porch no one was there. He called 
 " Gerard ! Gerard ! " but no answer came. Jack 
 hastened to the road, but the night was too dark, 
 and the light wind rustled in the trees, so that he 
 could neither see nor hear anything of the run- 
 away. With a heavy heart. Jack returned into 
 the house, and then he and Lucy sat long into 
 the early morning talking of poor Gerard and his 
 changed fortunes, and sowing seeds that bore 
 abundant fruit hereafter. 
 
 It was eight o^clock when the tidiest of old 
 ladies was surprised at her breakfast by the 
 appearance of Gerard Norwold. Her little hand- 
 maiden was surprised also to hear her mistress 
 cry with delight, and hug that road-stained,
 
 WAIT POR THE END. 175 
 
 haggard -looking man to her capacious bosom. 
 He had often lain there when a helpless babe, 
 and drawn from its living fountains the life he 
 now valued no longer. Yes, Mrs. Bland had 
 been Gerard's nurse, as after he was born his 
 mother was long an invalid, and Gerard owed 
 much of his iron constitution to the then 
 buxom widow Bland, whose only child had died 
 the same day as her young husband. Baby 
 Gerard therefore succeeded to all the poor widow's 
 love, and as her mother's fancy saw in the heir 
 of Norwold's face the lineaments of her own dead 
 child, he became to her a son indeed, making her 
 love almost idolatry. Gerard never passed a 
 vacation without visiting Nurse Bland frequently, 
 though she lived some ten miles from the town 
 of Morden. No wonder, then, that he brought 
 his bruised heart to her for cure. 
 
 It was strange, he thought, that she had not 
 been the earliest remembered when the blow 
 came, — even before Jack and Lucy, — and so 
 thought she when he had told her the story of 
 the past day and night.
 
 176 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 '' My darling boy, my dear darling boy/' said 
 the old nurse — all the motherly feelings of other 
 days returning, '^1 never thought this hour 
 would come, although your beloved mother often 
 foreboded some such evil times. Sir John was 
 always a vile tempered man ; brutal ever, when 
 his angry fits were on him; and they were so 
 frequent that they wore away your mother's life 
 long before her time. When she felt that she 
 was dying, she said to me — oh ! so calmly — so 
 sweetly. *^ Nurse, I shall soon leave you, and 
 my dear child will have no mother then but you. 
 Care for him as you have done ; and for his sake, 
 and for ray sake, bear with my husband's fearful 
 temper, and do not be driven from our darling 
 boy. You promise me this?' I did, of course; 
 and kept it through many and many a day of 
 sore trial, Gerard, Your mother went on to say : 
 'Nearly all my small fortune I have given at 
 various times to help my husband in the pay- 
 ment of his debts. There is, however, enough 
 in this pocket-book to keep you from want, and 
 find you a humble home. Earn it, dear Nurse,
 
 WAIT POll THE END. 177 
 
 by what you will liave to bear for the love of 
 my darling — for the love of his dying mother/ 
 
 " I did bear what few could have borne ; but 
 you had been sent to me by Heaven when my 
 own sweet babe and his honest loving father had 
 been taken from me : and I loved you dearer 
 than my life. Thank God that you have come 
 here in your trouble. It is your mother's home 
 that shelters you. It is your mother^ s bounty 
 that I now ask you to share.^^ 
 
 Poor Gerard ! The voice of the old nurse 
 retained the same music as had soothed his 
 earliest sorrows, and he did not resist when she 
 laid his head upon her bosom. He soon re- 
 covered his composure, and then having eaten 
 and drank, though sparingly, he retired to her 
 bedroom — the nursery he called it, with the first 
 smile his face had worn for many hours, and 
 obtained the repose he so much needed. 
 
 He slept soundly through the night, and when 
 he awoke he found Nurse Bland sitting by the 
 side of his bed, as he had done hundreds of 
 times before, when he was hardly more helpless 
 
 VOL. T. N
 
 178 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 than at present. He was feverisli and prostrate, 
 but his old nurse was skilful in the healing arts 
 required for his restoration, and by the end of 
 the third day, he had talked over and over again 
 the cruel past, but without finding any relief for 
 the agony it occasioned him. 
 
 It was late in the evening when he bade his 
 kind old nurse farewell, and though her tears 
 fell fast, yet there was no hopeless sorrow in her 
 honest face, and so with her we bid adieu to 
 Gerard Norwold. 
 
 The river which flowed past Morden, a sluggish 
 stream, widened on its passage to the sea, and 
 receiving two important tributaries a few miles 
 below the town, became a rapid river. On the 
 banks, near the confluence of the lower stream, 
 a coat and waistcoat were found on the morn- 
 ing following, and on the lining of both was 
 written " Gerard Norwold/' Such a fact proved 
 nothing, whatever surmise it occasioned, and when 
 Sir John was told of the discovery, he laughed 
 scornfully, and denounced it as, " A trick — a very 
 stale trick, which could deceive no one but a fool.''
 
 WAIT FOil THE END. 179 
 
 The time was approaching when he would 
 have given all his wealth to have known the 
 truth. 
 
 Jack Spraggatt was not so easily satisfied. 
 As soon as the story reached him, he set off at 
 once, and for three days continued his inqui- 
 ries and search, on both sides of the river, and 
 it was not until the third day that he be- 
 thought him of Mrs. Bland, and that possibly 
 her foster-son might have gone] to her in the 
 hour of his greatest need. Jack met with a 
 cordial welcome from the old nurse, by whom 
 he was well known and esteemed, and after an 
 hour's serious talk with her, he sought for Gerard 
 Norwold no more, and ever after studiously 
 avoided speaking of his friend's disappearance, 
 although for some time both he and Lucy wore 
 a slight mourning in memory of their friend. 
 
 We must return to the Hall, soon to be de- 
 serted for other scenes and unexpected changes. 
 Sir John^s rage had not exhausted itself on the 
 hapless Gerard, and when he left his ancestors' 
 house at liis father's bidding, it raged for a time 
 
 K 2
 
 180 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 against the guilty and terrified Gilbert. With 
 the same vehemence as he had nsed in discard- 
 ing one son^ did he threaten to visit with a 
 similar consequence any further disobedience on 
 the part of the other^ and almost included his 
 trembling wife in this denunciation. A mo- 
 mentary compunction which Gilbert had felt at 
 his brother's undeserved fate, and which might 
 have impelled him to have confessed the truth 
 had a gentler course been pursued, died away 
 under his father's continued violence, and when 
 he left the room, almost fainting with terror, he 
 went forth like another Cain, fearing that his 
 brother's wrong would cry out from the very walls. 
 He walked into the garden, and the cool night air 
 revived him slightly. It was well for him, he 
 thought, that Eay had been taken to London 
 before the discovery had been made, which was 
 now only known to his father and the family. 
 Yes, there was Jasper Jellifer ! He might lead 
 suspicion towards him, if he thought it would 
 serve his ends. No, his mother was engaged to 
 interest herself with Sir John, and Jasper would
 
 WAIT FOE, THE END. 181 
 
 not make her his enemy by uttering any con- 
 jecture that would injure her son. So he strove 
 to lull his guilty conscience into a little peace. 
 
 Higgler had brought Jasper to the Hall to 
 prove Ray^s writing on the memorandum relat- 
 ing to the bracelet, which, strange to say, could 
 not be found or traced anywhere. 
 
 Jasper's testimony was not required, as he 
 was, of course, entirely ignorant of Ray's 
 proceedings. He had believed him a clever 
 pushing fellow, and as such they had had 
 dealings together; but of his nefarious pur- 
 suits Jasper had never entertained a suspicion, 
 and he feared that he should be a loser by the 
 confidence he had reposed in him. 
 
 Mr. Higgler smiled as Mr. Jellifer made this 
 statement. 
 
 Jasper was evidently a true friend either to 
 Ray or to himself, for he had sacrificed the 
 comfort of his home to secure the property 
 at the mill, and had placed Mrs. Jellifer in. 
 possession. This lady gave little Cobby infinite 
 trouble, as she was as restless as a ghost, and
 
 183 WAIT FOE THE END. 
 
 glided about from one place to another, so, that 
 the wary Bow Street runner, from professional 
 habit, felt compelled to follow her, and neglect 
 his beloved dulcimer, which was at once his solace 
 and delight. There was no doubt Mrs. Jellifer 
 had a reason for this inquisitiveness. Sir John 
 had offered £100 for the recovery of the bracelet, 
 and, as this liberal reward was, she thought, 
 a secret between herself and Jasper, she set 
 earnestly to work to deserve it ; but the cleverest 
 of us are but fools, and whilst Mrs. Jellifer was 
 searching the mill diligently. Cobby was on the 
 watch continuously, knowing her purpose, and 
 would have pounced upon her and the treasure 
 trove, and claimed half the reward. Mr. Higgler 
 took a more direct course to discover the missing 
 jewels. 
 
 Ray had been brought up several times before 
 the Bow Street magistrates, and numerous charges 
 of receiving stolen goods, both in London and the 
 provinces, having been proved against him, he 
 was committed to Newgate for trial. Newgate 
 prison was a terrible contrast to the pretty home
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 183 
 
 which Ray had just quitted. It would have been 
 terrible even now-a-days when so much has been 
 done to mitigate the olden cruelties, when the 
 prisoners within its gloomy walls were packed 
 away like slaves in the hold of a slave ship, and 
 lived like human devils, in the midst of profanity 
 and drunken riot. The untried and the con- 
 demned were herded together, at the mercy of 
 venal warders, who made a profit of their vices 
 when they had money, or left them almost to 
 starve if they had not the means to bribe their 
 gaolers, or procure the necessaries of life. The 
 grim smoke-blackened walls of the great London 
 prison, were a sad exchange for the neatly-clipped 
 hedges of the miller's garden, and the brutal 
 songs of the half-drunken prisoners, for the 
 twittering and melodious notes of the happy 
 birds, and the fierce besotted faces which met 
 him at every turn, for the pleasant flowers then 
 blossoming in all their beauty. The murky cell 
 and hard pallet, haunted by the memories of hun- 
 dreds of criminals, some of whom had hung upon 
 Tvburn tree, or had suff'ered out the remnants of
 
 184 WAIT roil THE END. 
 
 their evil lives in Van Diemen's Land, or the 
 worse Inferno of Norfolk Island. Murderers, 
 forgers, burglars, highwaymen, and even such as 
 he, Kaymond Ray, the tempter to crimes he had 
 not the courage to commit, had preceded him as 
 occupants of the narrow dungeon wherein he 
 must abide until he also should go forth to endure 
 for years and years the bitter lot of a transported 
 convict. He could not sleep at first with such 
 horrible thoughts always at work in his once 
 clever-scheming brain, but exhausted nature 
 yielded at last, and the gaol-bird ceased to 
 flutter in his gloomy cage. 
 
 Jasper came to see him as often as the prison 
 rules allowed him to do so, but then they spoke 
 to each other with iron gratings between them, 
 and the visitor left no hope behind when he 
 departed. Jasper never spoke of the diamond 
 bracelet, prudent man that he was, fearing to 
 invoke suspicion of complicity in Ray's criminality 
 in the mind of any chance listener. Not so, Mr. 
 Higgler, who had requested an interview with the 
 prisoner the day after his committal to Newgate.
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. ibO 
 
 " Good day, Mr. Ray/' said the officer, '' I 
 suppose you bear no ill-will to a man who has 
 only done his duty, and will not object to a few 
 minutes' conversation with me.'' 
 
 "None in the least/' replied Ray; "I have not 
 too much pleasant society in this infernal place. 
 What have you to say, sir ? " 
 
 " I suppose, Mr. Ray, that you have calculated 
 the chances of the game you have been playing 
 so many years, and are not afraid to pay your 
 losings manfully. You have had a long run of 
 luck, but I fancy you see that you are beat at 
 last.'' 
 
 "I don't know that," answered Ray. "A jury 
 may think me as innocent as I am." 
 
 "No doubt of it," replied Higgler, knowingly; 
 " and if they do, your position will be a bad 
 one. It is no use fencing the question with me, 
 Mr. Ray. I could not, if I wished, make your 
 case worse than it is, and you know it. I have 
 not come to try to do so, but to see if I cannot 
 square a certain matter between us, and make 
 things easier for you."
 
 186 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 Kay's heart beat quickly, for he thought there 
 was a hope of escape in the officer's words. 
 
 " I don't understand you at present/' he said. 
 " You must speak more plainly, if you please." 
 
 "I will. When I was searching the mill, I 
 found two pieces of paper behind the portrait in 
 the corner of the parlour. They had reference 
 to certain money transactions between you and 
 young Norwold. They had nothing to do with 
 my charge against you, and so I have not pro- 
 duced them at present." Higgler paused, and 
 then said abruptly, " What have you done with 
 the diamond bracelet you had in pawn ? " 
 
 Ray was too cool a rogue to be caught so 
 easily. 
 
 " That is my affair, Mr. Higgler,'' he replied. 
 " Why do you want to know, and what am I to 
 gain by telling you ? " 
 
 " I want to know," said Higgler, " because Sir 
 John wishes it back again, and if you will put me 
 in the way of restoring it, I will make him use 
 his influence in high quarters to ease your sen- 
 tence. That's plain enough, I hope."
 
 WAIT EOR THE END. 187 
 
 "Sir John can do tliis, yon think; but will 
 he ? ^' asked Ray. 
 
 '' Yes. He will pay the money lent to any one 
 you please to name. His family honour is con- 
 cerned,, you see; and though he has turned his 
 son Gerard out of doors, he don^t wish the matter 
 to go further." 
 
 " His son Gerard, did you say ? " asked Ray, 
 earnestly. 
 
 "Yes. He^s a rough customer, is Sir John, 
 and the most violent old fellow I ever met. They 
 say Gerard was his favourite son, and that hell 
 fret himself to death at his loss. Nevertheless, 
 he cursed him both hot and strong, so that if, as 
 the saying goes, 'Curses come home to roost,^ I 
 don't envy the old gentleman his lodgers." 
 
 Ray did not appear to hear what Higgler was 
 saying, but sat lost in deep thought. His cool, 
 scheming head was at work again in its old way, 
 and he saw a chance of escape, unperceived by 
 even the wily Bow Street runner. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Ray,^^ said that officer, after 
 waiting a minute or so, " what do you say ? "
 
 188 WAIT Ton THE END. 
 
 " The bracelet,'^ replied Ray, " is with the man 
 who lent the money. He has been a good friend 
 to me, and I should not like to involve him in 
 any trouble " 
 
 " Jasper Jellifer ? " asked Higgler, quickly. 
 
 " No. Not Jasper Jellifer, nor any such 
 chicken-hearted fellow like him. I will think 
 the matter over, Mr. Higgler. I conclude Sir 
 John is to pay you for this business, and I will 
 try not to spoil your bargain, if it don't injure 
 myself. Can nothing be done before my trial ? " 
 said Ray, with emphasis. 
 
 ^' Nothing. The other business is too clear 
 
 against you, and you know it. Had there been 
 
 only one case, that might have broke down — but 
 
 ' there are four — and you must see that what you 
 
 hint at is impossible.'' 
 
 " I fear so," replied Ray, sadly. " Well, Mr. 
 Higgler, I shall know the worst on Tuesday ; so 
 come to me the day after, and we will talk over 
 the subject again.'' 
 
 Mr. Higgler shook hands in the most friendly 
 manner with the man he had tracked down so
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 180 
 
 cleverly and • perseveringly, and parted from him 
 as pleasantly as he could have done had Ray 
 been a pot companion at a tavern door. 
 
 Ray slept soundly that night, and the next 
 also, although the morning which followed was 
 to declare his future fate. 
 
 As Higgler had prophesied, the cases against 
 Kay were proved too clearly to admit the least 
 doubt of his guilt, and the twelve intelligent 
 men in the jury-box retired, merely as a matter 
 of form, to cbnsider their verdicts, returning in 
 a few minutes after each case to pronounce the 
 word " Guilty," their faces beaming with self- 
 satisfaction at their own acumen. 
 
 Then, police officer after police officer, stepped 
 into the witness-box, and told how they had 
 known the prisoner at the bar under many 
 aliases. That he had been convicted of swind- 
 ling, card-sharping, and other mean vices. That 
 he had been long known as a trainer of thieves, 
 and a receiver of stolen goods, but by great 
 cunning and address had eluded detection, until 
 London becoming too dangerous for him, he had
 
 190 WAIT FOE THE END. 
 
 disappeared. That Mr. Higgler^, from informa- 
 tion which he had received^ had found out his 
 whereabouts, and brought him to trial that day. 
 He was thought to have come of a good family, 
 though no one, except a woman he called his 
 sister, and Mr. Jellifer, a neighbour, had cared 
 to own him for many years past. 
 
 The sentence was transportation for life. 
 
 The persons in court who had heard the trials, 
 and the long catalogue of previous iniquities, 
 stared with wonder, at the pleasant face and 
 manly bearing of the convicted felon, who bowed 
 respectfully to the Bench, and walked firmly, but 
 without bravado, from the bar. 
 
 Ray did not sleep that night. The remi- 
 niscences of his bad life, recounted by so many 
 witnesses during the past day, kept sleep from 
 his eyes, and the wickedness he had done now 
 began to be his punishment. With the daylight 
 his hardihood returned, and when Higgler came 
 according to promise, Ray had adjusted his mask 
 again, and seemed an unmoved man. 
 
 " I have thought over what is to be done^ said
 
 V,'AIT POR THE END. 191 
 
 Ray. '' You may tell Sir John that you have 
 brought me to a state of penitence and confes- 
 sion, and so have earned your wages. When you 
 have done that to your satisfaction, bring the old 
 gentleman here, and I will make my own terms 
 with him. I have more to restore to him than 
 his wife's bracelet ; and, valuable as that is, he 
 would give a hundred times what it is worth for 
 the other affair." 
 
 Mr. Higgler was rather astounded, and would 
 have fished out Ray's secret if he could have done 
 so, but abandoned the hope of success when the 
 felon said : 
 
 ^' You have nothing more to gain by me, nor I 
 by you. Make what bargain you can with Sir 
 John, my words will be worth the money, be it 
 what it ma}^ As I shall leave here for the hulks 
 in a few days, you had better make an early 
 appointment. You will always find me at home, 
 as I shall quit London without the formality of 
 bidding adieu to my friends. I am not beat yet, 
 Higgler ; at least I hope not.^' 
 
 Mr. Higgler, again shaking hands with his
 
 192 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 friend Raymond, as lie now called Mm, took his 
 departure, and calling a hackney coach, ordered 
 the driver to proceed to an hotel at the ^vYest-end, 
 where the Norwolds were expected to arrive that 
 day.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE FELON RAY DOES MORE MISCHIEF THAN 
 HE BARGAINS FOR. 
 
 Mrs. Jellifer had gone to London the day 
 before Ray's trial, leaving Mr. Cobby, the man in 
 possession, after thanking him for the constant 
 attention he had paid her during the time they 
 had been together. Mr. Cobby was not surprised 
 at her departure, as the certainty of the miller's 
 fate was known in Morden, and Mr. Cobby had 
 more than once explained to Mrs. Jellifer the 
 state of the law as affecting the miller's property 
 in the event of his being found guilty of the 
 offences with which he was charged. The Crown 
 would then become possessed of all the felon's 
 goods and chattels, and therefore there seemed to 
 be no necessity for Mrs. Jellifer's supervision of 
 the proceedings at the mill. On the second day
 
 194 'WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 after the trials liowever_, when Cobby was relieving 
 the monotony of his existence by performing on 
 his beloved dulcimer, and bv no means discoursing: 
 most eloquent music himself^ he was surprised by 
 the arrival of Mrs. Jellifer;, accompanied by a 
 well-dressed gentleman, and two men of humbler 
 appearance. 
 
 Cobby w^ent to the door to receive them, but 
 Mrs. Jellifer wishing him a curt good afternoon, 
 brushed past him into the house, and requested 
 her friends to follow her. Mr. Cobby was a 
 brave man, but he was also a small one, and with 
 a discretion which was to be expected from one 
 of so much worldly experience, he offered no 
 opposition to their ingress. 
 
 " What's up now, ma'am,^^ said Mr. Cobby, 
 seeing the lady quietly seat herself in the easy 
 chair he had just vacated, and motion the respect- 
 able gentleman to take a place beside her. 
 
 " What's up, sir ? " replied the lady, with a 
 slight sneer. '' If you mean by that to inquire 
 why we are here, I beg to inform you that we 
 have come to take possession of the mill and its
 
 WAir I'OR THE END. 195 
 
 conteatSj and to dispense with your further at- 
 tendance, Mr. Cobby." 
 
 '' Dear me," said the officer, " I shall be sorry 
 to have any difference of opinion with a lady for 
 whom I have so much esteem; but you can^t 
 take possession, and you can't dispense with me.'' 
 "Indeed, sir, we shall see," replied Mrs. Jel- 
 lifer. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," said Cobby; "that gratifica- 
 tion shall not be denied you;" and diving into 
 a side-pocket of his coat, he produced a little 
 brass staff and an official-looking paper. After 
 carefully opening the latter, he proceeded : " this, 
 ma'am and gentlemen, is a document which I have 
 received this day from London, empowering me 
 to hold, on behalf of the Crown, all the goods and 
 chattels of Raymond Ray, a convicted felon, now 
 lying in His Majesty's gaol of Newgate.'' 
 
 "Indeed," said Mrs. Jellifer, "then I am 
 afraid the Crown will be disappointed for once, as 
 this" — almost snatching a paper from the hands 
 of the respectable gentleman — " as this is a bond 
 or a bill of sale, or whatever it's called, making
 
 196 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 over to my husband, Jasper Jellifer^ as security 
 for money lent_, all that Mr. Raymond Ray was 
 possessed of some time ago ; and now I leave you 
 and our lawyer, Mr. Williams, of Lincoln' s-inn- 
 fields, London, to fight the matter out between 
 
 you.'' 
 
 Mrs. Jellifer then rose and left the room. 
 
 The legal battle was not of long duration, Mr. 
 Williams being well-known as a highly respect- 
 able person to Cobby, and he did not therefore 
 hesitate to accept the assurance of that gentle- 
 man, that the document which gave Jasper 
 Jenifer's claim the preference over that of the 
 Crown, was perfectly valid, the more especially as 
 Mrs. Jellifer returned, bringing with her from the 
 mill the affrighted man who had attested the sig- 
 natures of the parties to the legal instrument. 
 Cobby was by no means cast down at this defeat, 
 hut, requesting Mr. Williams to give him a 
 written declaration of the authority under which 
 Mr. Jellifer claimed possession, he pocketed 
 his sceptre and declared his willingness to abdi- 
 cate.
 
 WAIT rOR THE END, 197 
 
 ^^I tliouglit we should make sliort work witk 
 you/' said Mrs. Jellifer ; " no reflection on your 
 size, sir. And now if you will kindly remove 
 yourself, and your box of music, as you^re pleased 
 to call it, to some other place, I shall be extremely 
 obliged to you." 
 
 Cobby inquired whether it was absolutely 
 necessary that he should retire so precipitately, 
 and whether he might not remain until the 
 morning, as his business in Morden would thea. 
 be at an end, and he proposed to return by an 
 early coach to London. 
 
 '^ Well, yes!" said Mrs. Jellifer; ^^you may 
 remain conditionally.^-' 
 
 Cobby inquired the terms on which his evacu- 
 ation of the mill could be delayed. 
 
 "These," said Mrs. Jellifer, with savage em- 
 phasis. " As I intend remaining here to-night^ 
 to lock-up and make an inventory of certain 
 things, I require that you tie up in its green bag 
 that horrible instrument of torture upon which 
 you are continually thumping; and that, if you 
 want to sing, you go into the mill and remain
 
 198 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 there until jon have exhausted the contents of 
 that 'Little Warbler/ which you seem to have 
 swallowed at some time or the other/^ 
 
 Cobby was hurt, painfully hurt, at the mention 
 of these conditions^ and from that hour to the 
 end of his existence^ hated Mrs. Jellifer. 
 
 It was six o'clock in the evening when Higgler 
 reached the hotel where Sir John Norwold was 
 staying. The old baronet was in an execrable 
 temper, two or three circumstances having occurred 
 to make him more than usually unamiable. One 
 was that he had been engaged with his lawyer for 
 an hour or two in making a new will. He never 
 paused halfway in any course which he had 
 resolved to pursue; and in order to disinherit 
 Gerard as completely as possible, he had willed 
 to his son Gilbert all that he could devise to him. 
 The entailed property was small, as during his 
 father's lifetime Sir John had imprudently allowed 
 much of it to be sold to pay the heavy election 
 expenses incurred in contesting M'orden. An- 
 other item was a list of the improvements required 
 in Lady Norwold's wardrobe, and which she
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 199 
 
 declared to be requisite for her proper appearance 
 in public. The slightest reference to such a sub- 
 ject always brought on a violent fit of swearing, 
 and certain allusions to the domestic economy of 
 the ancient Britons strongly adverse to the pro- 
 gress of civilisation. If he had lived in these days 
 of. crinoline, Lady Norwold would have gone 
 into society a perfect fright had she conformed to 
 Sir John's notions of amplitude as applied to a 
 lady's skirt. Another circumstance which tended 
 to his irritability was this, he wanted his dinner ; 
 and like other savage animals, he growled loudest 
 when he was hungry. Mr. Higgler's mission was 
 made, therefore, under a most unfavourable con- 
 dition of things; and that worthy officer had 
 to submit to numerous interruptions during the 
 narration of his interview Avith Ray, all of which 
 would have been distressing to a less regulated 
 mind than that of the Bow Street runner. 
 
 It would be worse than useless to give the con- 
 versation in detail, as Sir John declared that he 
 would have hung Ray without the formality of a 
 trial, and expressed his regret that such a cata-
 
 200 WAIT rOR THE END. 
 
 strophe was not awaiting that criminal person 
 with such ornate flourishes of language as prevent 
 repetition. The excommunication of the Jackdaw 
 of Rheims might have been read (had that re- 
 markable objugatory poem been written) as a 
 blessing beside Sir John^s maledictions. Mr. 
 Higgler knew his man, however, and having heard 
 a great deal of bad language in his time, was 
 patient and enduring. He succeeded at last in 
 obtaining Sir John's promise to meet him at 
 Newgate on the following day, and to amply 
 reward him should Ray^s communication prove of 
 the consequence he professed it to be. 
 
 Through the long weary night which succeeded 
 Ray's last interview with Higgler, the wretched 
 felon slept but little. The prison clock striking 
 the hours and the quarters roused him from his 
 feverish slumber, and he remembered that the pass- 
 ing minutes brought him nearer to the interview 
 which might produce some mitigation of his dread- 
 ful doom, or destroy his best hope of any future 
 peace this side the grave. And then he recalled his 
 past evil deeds, and their bitter consequences to
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 201 
 
 others^ and wondered that he had thought so lightly 
 of the usual ending of such a life as his had been^ 
 or why he had put those thoughts, when they did 
 come, so readily aside. He remembered also the 
 few evanescent, unsatisfying pleasures which his 
 evil gains had brought him. He had had, it is 
 true, an unwedded mother and a libertine father, 
 who was no father in his love or in the discharge of 
 his duties towards his unhappy boy and girl, and 
 who had allowed them to be reared in short-lived 
 luxury, to be cast upon the world when death 
 transferred his abused wealth to his high-born 
 heirs, who would acknowledge no kindred with 
 those whom the law refused to recognise. He 
 thought of all this wrong, and sought to find 
 some palliation for his own misdeeds in the selfish 
 cruelty of the dead. But conscience would not 
 admit the plea, and cried out " Guilty '^ almost as 
 loudly as he had heard that fatal word pronounced 
 in court not very many hours before. 
 
 Time, that stays not either for the just or for 
 the unjust, brought the hour appointed for Ray's 
 meeting with Sir John Norwold.
 
 203 WAIT FOll THE END. 
 
 Mr. Higgler was waiting to receive the baronet, 
 and to usher him into the governor of Newgate^s 
 little office. Sir John had passed a sleepless 
 night also, and looked haggard and nervously 
 excited. He glanced with an angry look at the 
 grim ornaments of the little room. Manacles of 
 notorious malefactors^ labelled with their names, 
 as though they were relics too precious to pass 
 into oblivion. Above them, on shelves, were casts 
 of hideous heads, their features distorted by the 
 violent deaths they had died — hideous also, from 
 the crimes with which they were associated, and 
 which had given them their Newgate value. 
 There were two or three more precious relics of 
 the gallows still than those memorials made by 
 the hands of man: there were the skulls, the 
 once living bones of departed scoundrels, not 
 hidden out of man's sight in the earth, but kept 
 as lures to the warder's show-box. 
 
 "The place smells of death," Sir John said, 
 and he desired to be taken to Ray, or to have 
 Ray brought to him as soon as possible. 
 
 The latter civility might have been accorded
 
 WAIT FOll THE END. 203 
 
 liim had he been more regardful of the turn- 
 key's feelings, and not spoken disparagingly of 
 his criminal museum; but having offended the 
 man's professional prejudices, Sir John was led 
 through the gloomy passages of the old prison, 
 along which many had passed on to "dusky 
 death,'' until he came to the cell wherein Ray 
 was confined, and where he now remained 
 pleading illness, thus avoiding the necessity of 
 taking his place in the felon's yard. As Eay 
 rose up on the entrance of Sir John, his fetters 
 clanked, and sent a cold chill through the frame 
 of his visitor, although, as a magistrate, he 
 was not entirely a stranger to the inside of a 
 prison. 
 
 The warder stood waiting at the door until Kay 
 expressed a wish to speak with Sir John alone, 
 and as Higgler had supplied a liberal garnish, 
 the turnkey expressed his willingness to retire, 
 provided Sir John was not afraid. 
 
 '^Afraid ! What do you mean by being afraid, 
 fellow? I never feared any man yet, and don't 
 care for this manacled scoundrel."
 
 204 WAIT roil THE END. 
 
 The door of tlie cell^ therefore, was closed, and 
 Sir John and the convict were alone together. 
 
 "Now then, Ray, what is it you wish to say 
 to me ? I should not have come, but I have had 
 so many surprises of late, that perhaps you may 
 have something to astonish me, also." 
 
 "I have. Sir John, or I would not have re- 
 quested your attendance here," said Eay. " You 
 can well believe, sir, that a man with such a 
 dreadful future before him as I have, may strive 
 to get one ray of hope by a boldness which he 
 would not have dared to exhibit under other cir- 
 cumstances; and as two matters which I have to 
 communicate are of the gravest importance I 
 believe to you, I must make conditions before 
 I speak.'' 
 
 Sir John was disposed to nse harsh words, and 
 to call bad names, but at last deigned to ask to 
 have the conditions named. 
 
 '^I propose to reveal to you the most im- 
 portant secret first, and I require your promise 
 that, if my revelation be of the value I profess 
 it to be, you shall exert your influence in my
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 205 
 
 behalf, and obtain some mitigation of my terrible 
 sentence. I mean, sir, to obtain for me, when I 
 reach my destination, some less severe task-work 
 than falls to the lot of the common convict. It 
 can be done — it is often done — and you can 
 obtain this favour for me by asking for it in a 
 quarter I can mention.^' 
 
 Sir John did not reply immediately, not until 
 he recalled much that had happened of late, and 
 in some way connected it in his mind with what 
 Ray had to tell. 
 
 ''I promise to do what I can, provided your 
 communication is of the importance you pretend 
 it to be,^' said Sir John. 
 
 " My second communication shall be made 
 before I leave England, provided my first pro- 
 duces the result I hope for. Don't be angry, Sir 
 John. I do not doubt your word, but you may 
 not estimate what I am about to say as I do. I 
 trust to your honour.^' 
 
 Ray then proceeded to narrate all that had 
 occurred at the mill. How that Gilbert came at 
 night to borrow the large sum of 200/., bringing
 
 206 WAIT rOR THE END. 
 
 with liim no other security than Gerard's pro- 
 mise to repay the loan. He did not mention 
 Jasper's name, and he had good reasons for his 
 silence. He then described how, sympathising 
 with Gilbert's distress at not being able to com- 
 ply with his brother's requirement that the monej^ 
 won should be repaid at once, he had told Gilbert 
 of the money-lender's conditions, and pointed out 
 the possibility of help being obtained from Lady 
 Norwold. How Gilbert went away taking the 
 keys with him to open the outer gate, the time 
 he was absent, and how Ray had met him on his 
 return — exhausted, as he then thought, by his 
 interview with his mother ; how he threw the 
 bracelet down, and the words he used when ques- 
 tioned. Ray then assured Sir John that he knew 
 not until the day after his trial that the diamonds 
 had been stolen (he did not say that Jasper had 
 told him this), and that Gerard and not Gilbert had 
 been suspected as the thief — Gerard, the noblest, 
 most self-sacrificing gentleman ^that ever lived, 
 and who had borne his father^s anger rather than 
 breathe a suspicion of his brother's dishonour.
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 207 
 
 As E,ay dwelt on all the incidents of the narra- 
 tive we have indicated briefly, the violent emotion 
 of Sir John Avas painfully apparent, but Ray had 
 his own point to gain, and did not pause to con- 
 sider the effect he was producing on a listener of 
 such a violent and excitable character as the man 
 who sat before him. 
 
 As Gilbert's guilt became evident — as Gerard's 
 innocence came to light, the struggle of the father 
 completely overpowered him. 
 
 He started up, clutching at his cravat, and 
 shaking his head to and fro exclaimed, '' Let 
 me out ! Let me out of this infernal hole, or I 
 shall be suffocated." 
 
 The warder heard him instantly, and on open- 
 ing the cell- door Sir John rushed past him, and 
 as it were by instinct, made his way along the 
 passages until he reached the intervening gates, 
 which he shook in his desire to escape into the 
 air, and then with Higgler passed into the street^ 
 where a carriage was awaiting him. 
 
 " Come to-morrow — tell them to drive home ! '^ 
 was all he said.
 
 208 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 Higgler watched the carriage out of Newgate- 
 street, wondering what could have been the com- 
 munication which had evidently had such powerful 
 effect upon Sir John. He re-entered the prison, 
 and went to Ray's cell, but the prisoner would 
 tell him nothing, not one word of what had 
 passed. Ray saw the effect he had produced, and 
 did not wish to have it weakened by any inter- 
 ference of Mr. Higgler. 
 
 Ray did not deceive himself into the hope that 
 his sentence would be revoked — he knew that was 
 impossible, but he tried to recall all the stories 
 which he had heard of criminals who had obtained 
 concessions from the authorities in Van Diemen's 
 Land, and who had by skill and honest-dealing 
 risen to be men of wealth and position in the 
 colony. He thought that the worst he should 
 endure would be the miseries of the passage out 
 in the transport-ship, trusting that the influence 
 he had secured by the revelation he had made 
 and had to make, would free him from the con- 
 vict's chain and harassing labours. Why should 
 he not thrive as others had done? He would
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 20S 
 
 apply the cleverness lie had hitherto used for 
 dishonest pursuits to make himself a reputable 
 position, and so end his days peacefully. If he 
 could obtain the limited freedom accorded to 
 many other convicts he could do this, for he had 
 not been deprived of all his illgotten gains — no 1 
 thanks to his forethought — and there would be 
 friends left in England who were bound to be- 
 friend him whenever the time arrived for the 
 exercise of their assistance. So he comforted him- 
 self with this Alnascar^s dream, although he had 
 already unwittingly destroyed the fragile means 
 which were to realise his pleasant anticipations. 
 
 When Sir John Norwold's carriage stopped at 
 the West- end hotel, and the footman opened the 
 door to let out his master, he was horror-stricken 
 to see him lying back on the seat, apparently in a 
 deadly stupor. His face was dark red, and one 
 hand still clutched the white cravat, bound, as 
 was then the fashion, tightly round the neck. 
 Sir John was instantly removed into the house, 
 and medical aid procured only in sufficient time 
 " to save him from instant death. 
 
 yoL. I. p
 
 210 V/AIT FOR THE END. 
 
 Lady Nor wold had ventured during her hus- 
 band's absence to send for her dress-maker, and 
 was busy with silks and la-ces and other vanities 
 when the carriage drove up to the door. She 
 saw it arrive from the window, and terrified at 
 the explosion of angry words which she believed 
 would be sure to succeed Sir John's discovery 
 of her pardonable delinquency, hurried her 
 milliner and her goods from the room, herself 
 condescending to carry a basket of no mean 
 dimensions. 
 
 Poor lady ! She was never to hear that angry 
 voice again ! Passion had done its work, aided 
 by remorse, and the living man brought into her 
 chamber was already as powerless for good or evil 
 as the dead. Throughout the night he laid 
 motionless almost, his deep stertorous breathing 
 painful to hear, and it was well for one watcher 
 by his bedside that he did not know whose act it 
 was that had quenched the life of his father, and 
 made him almost a parricide. That knowledge 
 was mercifully spared him, but never through- 
 out his after-life was that death-bed scene
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 211 
 
 forgotten. Before it quite closes we must return 
 for a short time to the Elms. 
 
 Jack Spraggatt had evidently found another 
 little skeleton, but he only concealed it for a day 
 or so after his visit to iSTurse Bland_, and in con- 
 formity with his promise to Lucy, he made her 
 a partner in his new possession. Nurse Eland 
 had told him more of the circumstances con- 
 nected with the expulsion of Gerard than he 
 himself had done during their short excited 
 interview ; and Jack strongly suspected that his 
 poor friend was bearing the consequences of 
 some disgraceful act which his brother had com- 
 mitted. He had mentioned the conclusion at 
 which he had arrived to the old nurse, and with 
 which she appeared to coincide; but when Jack 
 proposed to make some effort to vindicate Gerard, 
 she peremptorily forbade him taking any action 
 for that purpose, in compliance with the most 
 earnest injunction of his lost friend. Jack was not 
 satisfied with this state of things, nor was Lucy 
 either, and they determined to set off at once to 
 
 Nurse Bland and discuss the matter over again, 
 
 p 2
 
 ^12 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 Had Jack known half as much as Jasper 
 Jellifer, he would have gone at once to Sir John, 
 and had justice done to Gerard; but the self- 
 seeking, prudent Jasper could discover no par- 
 ticular gain to himself, but, on the contrary, the 
 prospect of considerable loss by revealing all he 
 knew of Gilbert^s transactions with Eay, and 
 therefore he preserved a selfish silence. 
 
 It was otherwise with Jack Spraggatt; Gerard^s 
 honour was as dear to him as his own, and he 
 believed his friend to be utterly incapable of an 
 unworthy thought. There were many circum- 
 stances not amounting to evidence, perhaps, 
 which led Jack to conceive the possibility of 
 Gilbert having been betrayed into the commis- 
 sion of this wrong ; he had always been treache- 
 rous and cowardly, and Jack could not bring 
 himself to believe that he was doing his duty 
 by his friend without communicating his own 
 suspicions to Sir John Norwold. 
 
 A short drive though pleasant country lanes 
 soon brought Jack and his sister to Mrs. Bland's 
 cottage. Its small garden was crowded with bright
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 213 
 
 blooming flowers and rose-buslies, among whose 
 bells and leaves the honey-bees were busy from 
 morn till night. The greenest of ivy grew mid- 
 way up the cottage front, leaving its red tiles in 
 no unpleasant contrast, as they were pierced with 
 latticed windows, draped within by the whitest 
 of dimity. As no cottage is perfect without a 
 porch, this had one; and there Nurse Bland 
 would sit on sunny days to knit or sew, and 
 exchange gossip with a passing neighbour. The 
 settle was unoccupied when Jack and Lucy 
 stopped at the gate. The parlour and upper 
 blinds were down, and no one came for some 
 minutes in answer to Jack^s lusty summons, 
 although more than one of the inmates of the 
 neighbouring cottages ran out to learn the 
 cause of the knocking and shouting. At last 
 the door was slowly opened by a purblind old 
 man as deaf as he was blind, and from him 
 Jack contrived to learn that Mrs. Bland was 
 away from home, and he was left to take care of 
 the house. He could tell no more, but he rather 
 thought " that Master Piggott, at the shop.
 
 214 WAIT roil THE END. 
 
 knowed more about ^um.'^ And so to Master 
 Piggott they went. 
 
 He did know a great deal that surprised 
 Jack; for he had never thought for a moment 
 that Mrs. Bland at her time of life^ and after 
 having lived some fourteen years in her little 
 cottage, could have invested ^Master Piggott, or 
 any one else, with authority to let the house and 
 sell by auction all her goods and chattels, save 
 and except certain articles which she had dis- 
 tinguished by a chalk cross, and which were to 
 be removed before the day of sale. 
 
 " They were matters of small value,^' Mr. 
 Piggott said ; " being two or three portraits of 
 children, and such like, together with an old 
 clock, which he believed had come from the 
 nursery at Norwold Hall.^' 
 
 This news was a great disappointment to Jack 
 and his sister, and set them wondering more and 
 more, whether it was not their duty to see Sir 
 John without loss of time ; for it was evident 
 that Gerard was either dead or had resolved to 
 carry out his determination to return home no
 
 WAIT I'OR THE END. 215 
 
 more. In the first case Mrs. Bland had evidently 
 left a neighbourhood Avhich had, uoay, such pain- 
 ful associations; in the next, she might have 
 resolved to share Gerard's fortunes, for all knew 
 that she had the love of a mother for her foster- 
 child. 
 
 They had just reached the Elms, when the 
 sound of the horn announcing the approach of 
 the " London up/^ decided Jack ; so buttoning 
 his great coat and giving the reins to Lucv, he 
 exchanged his seat in his gig for one on the out- 
 side of the coach, and in due time arrived safely 
 in London as the clock of the inn-yard struck 
 nine. 
 
 A hasty toilet and a substantial breakfast having 
 been accomplished, Jack set out for the West-end 
 hotel where Sir John Norwold was lying uncon- 
 scious of all around him. Whilst his name was 
 being taken up-stairs, Jack heard with much con- 
 cern the dangerous condition of the sufferer, and 
 would have left at once had not Lady Norwold 
 expressed a desire to see him. She had some 
 vague idea that he had come from Gerard, and
 
 216 WAIT rOR THE END. 
 
 laad thought it right that the outcast should 
 know the state to which his father had been 
 reduced. Gilbert, also, connected the coming of 
 Jack Spraggatt with his injured brother, and 
 walked to the window when the young farmer 
 entered the room. 
 
 The usual civilities were hardly exchanged 
 when the nurse came from the adjoining cham- 
 ber to announce that her patient had suddenly 
 rallied, and, as she thought, had muttered the 
 name of Lady Norwold. Her ladyship imme- 
 diately followed the nurse into the bedchamber, 
 leaving Jack and Gilbert together. Gilbert felt 
 he was bound to say something, and therefore 
 remarked — 
 
 "This is a sad state in which you find Sir 
 John, Mr. Spraggatt." 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied Jack; "and by me quite 
 ■unexpected. He looked so hale and hearty that 
 one might have taken a lease of his life for years. 
 I wished to have seen him very much — veiy much 
 indeed ! " 
 
 Gilbert made two or three efforts to speak
 
 WAIT roil THE END. 217 
 
 before lie could even say — ^' On business, I pre- 
 sume ? '^ 
 
 " 0\\, yes, sir — on his business principally," 
 answered Jack. " He was always a just man 
 when — not in a passion ; and he '' but recol- 
 lecting to whom he was speaking, he paused ; 
 and then added — " But it is too late, I fear, to — 
 too late!" 
 
 The silence which ensued was broken by the 
 entrance of the nurse. 
 
 " Sir John has certainly rallied wonderfully,^' 
 she said. " He evidently recognises her lady- 
 ship, and tries to tell her so. You can see him, 
 if you stand here.^' 
 
 Jack accepted the invitation of the nurse, and 
 looking through the half-opened door, he saw 
 the father of his injured friend, propped up with 
 pillows ; his lips twitching slightly now and then, 
 whilst his glazed eyes were fixed on those of 
 Lady Nor wold, who sat by the bedside holding 
 his hand. He was dying, no doubt of that, and 
 the last feeble rays of life just lighted up his 
 face.
 
 218 WAIT YOR THE END. 
 
 The nurse was called into the room, and in- 
 stantly returned to request Mr. Gilbert to go to 
 his father, as her ladyship fancied Sir John had 
 asked for him. 
 
 The eyes of the dying man had wandered to 
 and fro whilst these communications had been 
 made, and when Gilbert went to his father's bed- 
 side they became fixed upon him. As soon as the 
 confused mind of Sir John could comprehend the 
 presence of his son, a redder flush suffused his 
 face, his eyes dilated, and his breast heaved slowly, 
 slowly, and then with a deep sighing the spirit 
 passed away. 
 
 Two men who looked upon that bed of death 
 and saw the dart strike home, remembered it in 
 after years, one to find only remorse in the retro- 
 spect, the other to add another comfort to a 
 happy life. 
 
 As Mr. Higgler had nothing now to gain 
 through the agency of Eay, he paid no more 
 visits to the convict, and that person, therefore, 
 being dead in the eye of the law, might have been 
 actually defunct for what anyone not interested
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 219 
 
 in his safe keeping seemed to care for him, and 
 he left England unconscious of Sir John's death, 
 attributing the neglect which he experienced to 
 the want of honour on the part of the baronet, and 
 to the callous selfishness of Higgler, who, having 
 been paid for his share of the business, cared 
 nothing for the poor tool with which he had 
 worked. So, using a bad man^s logic, he rea- 
 soned himself into the belief that he was an ill- 
 used person, and resolved, if fortune gave him the 
 chance, to revenge himself in the new world to 
 which he was going. We shall meet with him 
 again in after years, and learn how he prospered, 
 and how he did a good turn when it was least 
 expected. 
 
 Jasper Jellifer came into possession of all the 
 late miller's property. Jack Spraggatt's wheat 
 amongst other valuables, and it was calculated by 
 those who took the trouble to mind other people's 
 business as well as their own, that Jasper had 
 made a very good bargain, although the money 
 he had received might have been a little cleaner. 
 Jasper always had been a lucky man, everybody
 
 220 WAIT rOR THE END. 
 
 said, and by adding and adding honest earnings 
 to the gold he had picked out of the dirt, his gains 
 became so mixed, and grew so bright by being 
 jingled together in the same bag, that there was 
 no one in Morden who could tell one coin from 
 the other, and therefore they came to respect 
 lucky Jasper for a great deal more than he was 
 worth.
 
 WAIT rOR THE END. 221 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 LUCY SPRAGGATT FINDS A NEW LOVER, AND 
 REJECTS HIM. 
 
 Twelve months liad passed since the death of 
 Sir John Norwold, and it was well for Jack 
 Spraggatt that his tangled affairs had given him 
 constant employment to get them straight, or he 
 might have thought more of the loss of his dear 
 friend Gerard, and of the injustice he had suffered, 
 than would have been good for his peace of mind; 
 but he and Lucy had to exert themselves to the 
 uttermost to surmount the difficulties which sur- 
 rounded them. Jack needed all his sister's hope- 
 fulness and bravery to keep him now and then 
 from desponding, as he would sometimes talk of 
 giving in; but she always discovered some earnest 
 way of going to work, and Jack only wanted such 
 a prompter to play out the part which had fallen 
 to his lot. Their mother had died in ignorance
 
 222 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 of her cliildren^s struggles, and many retrencTi- 
 ments wliicli could not have been made in her 
 lifetime without exciting her inquiries became 
 possible, and were made cheerfully. The accounts 
 of the continued success of Jack's friend in New 
 South Wales were every now and then arriving, 
 and would set him thinking of a new home in 
 that distant land ; but then, his household gods 
 had been set up so many years at the Elms that 
 it seemed like sacrilege to abandon them for 
 other lares, however advantageous the change 
 might seem. His father's fathers had tilled theland 
 around him, and their graves, and those of others 
 whom he had loved, were in the neighbouring 
 churchyard; and, foolish as it may seem, he 
 thought that he could not put the seas between 
 him and them. They were only mounds of earth 
 to the passers-by, but to him they were green 
 shrines where he had often stood and prayed that 
 he might not bring dishonour on their honest 
 names. A foolish fancy, perhaps, but all his life 
 he had seen the seed which he had buried in the 
 earth spring up into flowers and golden grain.
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 2,23 
 
 and so lie could gather loving tliouglits from the 
 graves of his departed kindred. Lucv, too, had 
 to be considered, and vv'here could she he as 
 happy as in the old house at home. She vrould 
 marry some day, no doubt selecting a farmer 
 for her husband, and then the Elms could be 
 managed between them, for without Lucy the 
 place would be home to Jack no longer. The 
 gossip of the neighbourhood had already found 
 her a match in the son of Mr. Hayes, whose farm 
 adjoined their own. The old man was reputed 
 to be rich, and his eldest son Ilobert would 
 doubtless possess all, as the younger was, although 
 not eighteen, a sot and an idle fellow. True 
 Robert was not exactly the man Lucy was likely 
 to fancy, as he was given to low sports, and 
 had been known to have visited more than one 
 prizefight. Such amusements were, however, coun- 
 tenanced by the highest in the land, and might 
 be abandoned if he became amenable to a better 
 influence. Indeed, Eobert Hayes had said to 
 more than one confidential friend, that for Lucy 
 Spraggatt^s sake he would do anything in the
 
 224 WAIT FOU THE END. 
 
 wide world. He had never made any advances to 
 Lucy, for, like most men of low pleasures, he was 
 abashed in the presence of a modest girl, and it 
 was long after his admiration for Miss Spraggatt 
 was known to most of his intimates that he 
 plucked up courage to speak to her brother on 
 the subject. 
 
 Jack told him very frankly the objections he 
 saw to the chance of Lucy accepting him for a 
 lover, but Robert Hayes was ready to make oath 
 there and then, that all which was objectionable 
 should be amended, for the happiness of his life 
 depended on her decision in his favour. Jack 
 thought over the matter for a day or two, and 
 generously put forward all the good qualities of 
 the would-be suitor. He was industrious, steady, 
 moderately good looking, and very well to do in 
 the world. His faults were only those of a not 
 over educated young man. There appeared, 
 therefore, no reason why he should not make the 
 venture, and it would rest with Lucy to refuse or 
 accept his proposal. Accordingly Jack brought 
 Robert Hayes home to dinner, and acting as a
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 225 
 
 good brother ought to do, tried to display his 
 sister to the best advantage by exhibiting her 
 household qualifications, and then to present her 
 admirer at his best by directing the conversation 
 into channels adapted to the flow of his ideas. 
 Mr. Hayes floundered about considerably at first, 
 and made a very indifi'erent dinner, appearing to 
 have much difficulty in swallowing, even when 
 taking a custard. The home-brewed of the Elms 
 had a local reputation for excellence, and Mr. 
 Hayes seemed inclined to draw his inspirations 
 from the contents of a brown jug, with a silver 
 rim. 
 
 Jack at last hit upon a subject on which he 
 knew Mr. Hayes could talk, and his inquiry as to 
 the pedigree of Ponto, Robert's favourite pointer, 
 unloosed the young gentleman's tongue, and set 
 his eloquence flowing. 
 
 " He's of the best strain in the country, Miss 
 Spraggatt, if not in all England,^' said Mr. Hayes, 
 '' His great- great-grandsire came direct from 
 Spain, and he has as good blood in his veins as 
 the King of England/' 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 220 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 " Not a very loyal comparison, Mr. Hayes," 
 remarked Lucy, not knowing what else to say. 
 
 " I beg pardon. Miss, but I think it is. That dog 
 never makes a fault. If the ground's as dry as a 
 biscuit he never once runs over his game ; and I'd 
 be bound if he made a point, and the game didn't 
 rise or run, he'd stand for a week — ay, until he 
 was starved to death. Why last season '' — and 
 Mr. Hayes shot over again days upon days 
 wherein Ponto had distinguished himself so 
 greatly, that, according to his admiring master^s 
 appreciation of his merits, he deserved to be 
 chiseled in stone and set up in the market- 
 place. 
 
 Jack mounted him next upon a favourite mare, 
 and the excited orator rode his hobby for nearly 
 half an hour, leaving Lucy much opportunity to 
 reflect upon the acquirements and other recom- 
 mendations of the speaker, although she did not 
 anticipate to what end all this display was directed. 
 
 Lucy was country bred, and had an interest — a 
 modified interest — in good dogs and horses, and 
 in all, indeed, that pertained to the true sports of
 
 WATT FOR THE END. 227 
 
 the field ; but a j^oung man whose knowledge and 
 tastes appeared to have no further range than the 
 stable and the dog kennel, did not excite in her 
 gentle bosom the amount of admiration necessary 
 to make a proposal of marriage acceptable. Jack 
 Spraggatt perceived the ill success of the aspiring 
 wooer, and after a short absence from the room 
 was, therefore, not surprised to find Mr. Hayes 
 looking the picture of despair at having had his 
 hand and heart respectfully declined by Miss 
 Spraggatt, who had very considerately retired to 
 her own chamber after inflicting this necessary 
 pain on her brother's visitor. 
 
 Jack having good-naturedly walked home 
 with the unhappy Strephon, received a sisterly 
 wigging on his return, for having been a party to 
 such an absurd and embarrassing proceeding. 
 
 '' And now, my dear Jack," said Lucy, " a word 
 or two as to the futm'e. Should any other young 
 gentleman make such a proposal to you again — it 
 is not very likely, I own, but still it is within the 
 range of possibility — I beg you to say that I have 
 neither the wish nor the intention to marry. My 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 WAIT FOE THE END. 
 
 course — our course of duty — is clearly defined. 
 We have to get out of debt, in the first place, and 
 in the next we have to provide for the future. 
 This will be my home so long as I can be useful 
 in it, dear Jack, to you, and when you find another 
 mistress to your liking, I will trust to your gene- 
 rosity to provide for me, for I shall never marry. 
 There, that is what I want you to remember ; and 
 that you may not forget it there is a beautiful 
 kiss, one for each cheek, and I wish you a very 
 good night, you bungling, dear old match-maker/^ 
 
 Jack was very glad that Lucy had rejected 
 Eobert Hayes. When he saw them sitting in the 
 same room — when he heard him talking so rap- 
 turously about dogs and horses and nothing else, 
 he felt that even Letty^s French husband was a 
 very desirable connection by comparison. 
 
 And yet he did not admire Lucy^s parting 
 words — "I shall never marry.'' Why not? No 
 young girl of twenty makes such a declaration as 
 that and means it, unless her young love has been 
 stolen or given away unworthily. Jack puzzled 
 over this riddle for more than four years, and
 
 WAIT FOE THE END. 229 
 
 tlieii never guessed it. He only knew it when 
 the solution was told to him. 
 
 The knowledge of Lucy Spraggatt's refusal of 
 Robert Hayes soon became public property by 
 the liberal confidence of the rejected suitor, and 
 nearly everybody blamed the young lady for her 
 folly in not accepting such an eligible ofi'er ; the 
 more especially as old Hayes died shortly after- 
 wards, and left Robert his son several thousands 
 of pounds. Morden had its scandalisers, and 
 some said the Spraggatts had always been thought 
 a little too proud owing to their London con- 
 nections, and Jack^s intimacy Avith Gerard Nor- 
 wold, who had turned out such a bad fellow ; and 
 though no one could remember any exhibition of 
 this objectionable quality, so far as themselves 
 were concerned, yet they all had heard somebody 
 else say so, and therefore it must be true. Where 
 there was smoke there was sure to be flame. 
 Stupid old adage. 
 
 However, the nine days' wonder soon passed 
 away, and there was another subject of popular 
 discussion which retained its interest for a much
 
 230 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 longer period of time. It was anotlier windfall 
 for lucky Jasper Jellifer. Old Hayes had ap- 
 pointed him the guardian of his younger son 
 William, with an allowance of £150 a-year until 
 the lad should be of age, when he would come 
 into possession of £2000, left to him by his 
 maternal grandfather. What perplexed every one 
 was the reason that Mr. Hayes had selected 
 Jasper for such a trust; but the old man had 
 been a frequent visitor to the shop in the market- 
 place, and as his son's " goings on " had been 
 usually uppermost in his mind, Jellifer had been 
 favoured with a knowledge of the case, and gave 
 such excellent advice as to what he would do 
 with so rebellious a subject, that old Mr. Hayes 
 walked one day direct to his lawyer's, and added a 
 codicil to his will, appointing Jasper guardian to 
 his son. Young WilUam objected strongly at first 
 to this disposition of his person ; but as he was a 
 great trouble at home, his brother and his father's 
 executors insisted on submission, and he was 
 therefore domiciled with the lucky Jasper. Not 
 that there was much to be made out of the £150
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 231 
 
 a-year, but there were possible contingencies to 
 arise hereafter, quite unseen and unthought of 
 by every one except by clever Jasper Jellifer. 
 
 We must be of those, kind reader, with whom 
 *' time gallops withal,^' and pass over another 
 year until the time when Gerard Norwold would 
 (if living) have been twenty-three years old, and, 
 in accordance with the custom of the Norwold 
 family, have attained his majority. That day had 
 been often spoken of by the dwellers in Morden 
 and at Norwold Hall as one when there was to be 
 great merrymakings, as there had been in other 
 days, and from time out of mind. But there was 
 a cloud over the great House, and those who re- 
 membered the day as an anniversary of the birth 
 of its heir, shrugged their shoulders, or spoke 
 sadly or disparagingly of the departed Gerard. 
 In one household, however, he was remembered 
 as his kindly, generous nature entitled him to be 
 regarded, and with a strange combination of joy 
 and sorrow. Jack Spraggatt would not believe 
 that he was dead, although the closest inquiries 
 had failed to discover the shghtest trace of him
 
 232 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 after he had quitted the cottage of his old nurse, 
 who had also gone none knew whither. That 
 circumstance gave the Spraggatts and other of 
 Gerard's friends hope that the evidence found on 
 the bank of the river was a device to deceive 
 those who might be interested in his fate, and 
 Jack declared a determination, for his own part, 
 to keep Gerard's birthday as though he were with 
 them in the flesh. He would have the church 
 bells rung, and give a bullock to be roasted, and 
 have a meeting of all the Norwold tenants at the 
 principal Inn in the market place, and defy the 
 family anger. Lucy, however, dissuaded him from 
 all this. She, too, could not bring herself to be- 
 lieve that their dear friend had played such a 
 cowardly part as to free himself from the sorrows 
 of the present by breaking God's canon against 
 self-murder. Nevertheless, there was no proof 
 that he was living, and such rejoicings would have 
 been a mockery of the dead, provided he was 
 dead. Again, she urged, such a display of 
 friendly rejoicing could not be desired by Gerard, 
 or he would have taken means to have communi-
 
 WAIT FOK. THE END. 233 
 
 cated his present condition to some relative or 
 friend. No — he had vowed in the paroxysm of 
 his grief never to claim kindred with his father^s 
 house, and though those words were uttered 
 rashly, Lucy believed that they would bind 
 Gerard to their fulfilment unto his dying hour. 
 Jack yielded to the reasoning of his sister, and 
 they resolved to observe the day as they did 
 the anniversaries of the deaths of their father and 
 mother, not sorrowfully, but resignedly and in the 
 belief that the grave was but the portal to a world 
 where love would be eternal. So Gerard was 
 lovingly remembered on that day, and as he was 
 for many long years to come. 
 
 Again and once again we must turn over the 
 hour-glass of time, and end for some years our 
 visits to the Elms, as that once happy home-circle 
 was destined to be broken, and by his hands who 
 had made it such a pleasant abiding-place for 
 so long. Jack Spraggatt, Jack Spraggatt ! the 
 bark you are about to steer over thousands of 
 miles of the great sea will be freighted with the 
 whole happiness of your loving sister's life, and
 
 234 WAIT FOE THE END. 
 
 woe to your own if you make shipwreck of your 
 venture. 
 
 The morrow would be Gilbert Norwold's birth- 
 day, when he would be twenty-three, and the 
 possessor of all the wealth his mistaken father 
 could bequeath to him. There was to be some 
 show of rejoicing at the Hall, but as neither Lady 
 Norwold nor the young heir had made themselves 
 many new friends since Sir John's death, and had 
 kept but little intercourse with their old ones, the 
 day did not promise to have much hearty enjoy- 
 ment in store for those who were to take part in 
 the festivities. 
 
 We shall have to accompany Jasper Jellifer to 
 the Hall in our next chapter, and therefore for 
 the present we will linger at the Elms. The 
 more especially as Lucy has to meet a new wooer, 
 one who will press her eai-nestly for her love, 
 although he has a place in her heart already. 
 Will she refuse him as she did Robert Hayes? 
 Perhaps not, as her suitor now is — her brother 
 Jack. 
 
 The postman had brought a letter to the Elms
 
 WAIT DOR THE END. 235 
 
 — a full-bodied responsible-looking letter, and the 
 post-mark was New South Wales. Jack had but 
 one friend in that distant laud he knew, and 
 therefore he did not puzzle himself much to 
 divine the sender, although the handwriting of 
 the superscription was unknown to him. When 
 he opened it and read on, the caligraphy became 
 quite familiar to him, and he was obliged to pause 
 more than once or twice, indeed many times, 
 before he could finish that long, long letter. 
 There was much on those sheets of paper which 
 told of great suffering and hard struggles, ending 
 in successful mastery of difficulties, and a future 
 of promising prosperity. For such revelations 
 Jack was not unprepared when he knew who was 
 the writer, but of that which came after he had 
 never dreamed in all the times when he had 
 thought of the after-fortunes of his sister Lucy, 
 and he was fairly puzzled how to proceed. 
 
 Two years had passed since Mr. Hayes had 
 received his credentials as suitor for the hand of 
 Lucy, but the words she had then spoken had 
 come back to her brother's mind again and again :
 
 236 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 "I shall never marry /^ How those words had 
 perplexed him at the time they were uttered we 
 have already chronicled, and he was not wiser 
 now as to their meaning. There was nothing for 
 it, therefore, but to take counsel with Lucy herself 
 after he had read the greater part of his long 
 letter again, and so when they were seated by a 
 bright fire early in the evening. Jack produced 
 his budget. 
 
 " I have received,^^ he said, '' a long letter from 
 an old friend this morning from New South 
 "Wales." 
 
 '' Oh, yes — our old playmate ! " she answered. 
 " I trust that he is well and prospering as usual.'' 
 
 "Yes, dear, our friend is prospering bravely, 
 after many difficulties and many trials.' ' 
 
 Jack then read from his letter much that we 
 shall know if we wait for the end, and then he 
 came to a part which concerned Lucy more nearly 
 than any letter she had heard read in all her 
 happy life. The writer said : — 
 
 "And now, my dear friend, my head fails me — 
 my heart almost fails me when I need them both
 
 WAIT rOR THE END. 237 
 
 more than ever I have done since I could think 
 or feel. I have told you all that I can remember 
 of my sufferings and trials and of my present 
 prosperity. I ought, I fear_, to make an end, hut 
 I can see before me two futures; one a life of 
 ungratifyiug toil, another of honest exertion 
 rewarded by the peace of home, and the happi- 
 ness of an assured love. Should I hesitate in an 
 endeavour to secure the happiest because I may 
 be subjected to more pain, more regrets than I 
 have yet endured ? Would it not be cowardly to 
 do so ? Believing that I hear you answer ' Yes,^ 
 I now make my venture, praying with the whole 
 strength of my soul, that God's blessing will be 
 with my imperfect words. 
 
 " There was one I left behind me in the land 
 of my kindred that I believed to be possessed of all 
 womanly virtues, and you believing that also, can 
 understand how nearly my friendship had become 
 love. It needed but what has passed to destroy the 
 only impediment to the stronger development, 
 and the change came. It came, and I despised 
 myself for the miserable thoughts which had kept
 
 338 ^YAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 my love down, and would have stifled it, ^ liad I not 
 known tribulation.' 
 
 "The more I dwelt upon the excellence I had 
 had so long about my path, and yet had estimated 
 only in part, my own demerits rose so strongly 
 to my mind that I felt the poverty of all that I 
 could ever hope to offer in exchange for the trea- 
 sure I coveted, and — I despaired. 
 
 "As time went on my love grew and grew, 
 until it has come to be too great a burthen to 
 be borne in silence, and I now ask you, dear 
 Jack, dear friend, to lend me help in this great 
 need. I dare not write down what I am, for my 
 faults would outnumber my few virtues. You 
 must recall all your old friendship thought me 
 to be, and tell it to her as truth, which coming 
 from your lips she will believe. 
 
 " I dare not ask you to send away the light of 
 your home, dear Jack — to send to this distant 
 land the dearest treasure of your great brotherly 
 heart, unless — what a momentous condition !— - 
 unless you find — how dare I write ? I will be 
 bold in despair, and say, unless Lucy loves me —
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 239 
 
 loves me well enough to leave all — even you, lier 
 happy home, old friends, old memories — and trust 
 her future life to my care in this distant land. 
 To come to me and make my life as happy as she 
 has made yours." 
 
 The letter contained many more passionate 
 words, which were only intended to be known to 
 Jack and Lucy, and would be read as foolishness 
 by those whose hearts were not concerned in the 
 perusal. It was signed George Warner, and the 
 hand had trembled as it traced the letters which 
 composed the name. 
 
 When Jack had finished reading, Lucy knelt 
 down at his knees, and taking his hand in hers, 
 pressed it to her lips. Her touch was as cold as 
 death. ''Dear brother," she said, "what you 
 have read to-night must never be read to me 
 again. I have already told you — I told you 
 what I had determined upon as my course of 
 duty, and that — and that I should never marry.'^ 
 
 " Ah ! but that was Robert Hayes." 
 
 '' Do not interrupt me, please, dear Jack, until 
 I have ended. You must not read that letter to
 
 240 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 me any more, nor must you ever speak to me 
 again about it. I am but a weak woman — with a 
 woman's nature, and such words and thoughts as 
 you have read may affect my peace and make my 
 life a sorrow. Two have passed away out of this 
 house, and whose love watched over us to increase 
 our joys and lessen our sorrows. We two are 
 left alone, dear Jack, and thank God we are not 
 divided by distance or death. If it be decreed 
 that we should part, it must be by the hand which 
 directs all things, my dear, dear, brother.^^ 
 
 " I think I understand you Lucy,^' said Jack, 
 " my heart would be a stone did I not understand 
 you, and refuse the sacrifice you are making for 
 my sake. I never until to-day suspected even 
 that — that he loved you, nor did you I am certain. 
 I never knew until this night that you loved 
 him.^' 
 
 " No ! no ! ^^ cried Lucy, " I have said nothing 
 to make you infer that.^^ 
 
 " Nothing plainly, I grant,^^ said Jack, *' but do 
 you think that I am blind, Lucy. That I cannot 
 see all the love in your heart. As I look in your
 
 WAIT FOE THE END. 241 
 
 face, now pale as snow, now red as fire. If you have 
 hidden this love, you have acted womanly — wisely, 
 because it might have been unprized and unasked 
 for. But now you know how it is sought and 
 valued, it is your brother's duty to see that you do 
 not wrong yourself.^' 
 
 " I never loved him, Jack ; never, had a warmer 
 feeling than '^ 
 
 " Was proper and right. I know that," inter- 
 rupted Jack. "Dear Lucy, do not trifle with 
 your love, do not believe that you can ever stifle 
 it in your heart, or that time or anything else can 
 entirely conqfter it. No, darling, no. You think 
 it overcome, you think it dead, you fancy it will 
 be forgotten ; but some trifling thing, a flower, a 
 song, a word, a well-known place, and back it 
 comes again as strong as ever." 
 
 " You only say what you have read or fancied,^' 
 said Lucy, coldly. " You must have felt love to 
 know what it really is, I have heard say." 
 
 " And I have felt it, Lucy — feel it now," replied 
 Jack. " Would that it were not so. No man loved 
 more truly, more fondly than I loved one ; — you
 
 242 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 remember, — I think slie would not have rejected 
 me, and, if I had spoken, I might have found a 
 loving answer. I did, I do love her, though it is 
 almost guilt to do so now. I do not blame her. 
 She must have thought me vacillating, cold, 
 insensible, to have avoided her as I did, and I was 
 glad, yes, I was glad for a time when she married, 
 because I fancied no thought of me, nothing 
 which I had said or done, had touched her heart 
 and could ever make her unhappy .^^ 
 
 "Why did you neglect her? Why did you, 
 knowing your own feelings, lead her to believe 
 that she was indifferent to j6u?'' asked 
 Lucy, with much excitement in her face and 
 manner. 
 
 '^ Because my father died, and I saw the 
 change, the struggle that was before me. I knew 
 that I had debts to pay, difficulties to overcome, 
 for the sake of those who had a prior claim upon 
 my love and my exertions." 
 
 "And shall I not remember the lesson you 
 have taught me, dear, dear brother," cried Lucy, 
 throwing her arms around his neck. " Shall I
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 243 
 
 forget for any selfish love that dear old Jack has 
 bruised his honest heart to do his duty; that he 
 has waking nights that might bring desponding 
 days, if there were not one to see his sorrow and 
 use her best skill to cure it. Leave you ! No, 
 not to be queen of the world ! " 
 
 "That's nonsense ! '' (Yes, he did ! It was 
 
 very wrong, but knowing what Jack meant, the 
 recording angel wrote it down beside Uncle 
 Toby's oath.) ^^My difficulties are nothing now,, 
 my creditors are nearly paid, my prospects for 
 the future are brighter, and my spirits and my 
 self-reliance are now equal to anything.^' 
 
 " It is no use, my dear Jack, trying to dissolve 
 our partnership,'^ said Lucy, smiling. " We have 
 still our difficulties, our creditors, and our pro- 
 spects. You may have a very high opinion of 
 your clever friend abroad, and his log house and 
 his bush-farming, but I am quite contented with 
 my stupid scheming brother, the dear old Elms 
 and a tabby cat. So, go pull off your boots, put 
 on your slippers, and get your pipe, whilst I brew 
 you such a glass of gin-punch as will make you 
 
 R 2
 
 244 WAIT rOR THE END. 
 
 ashamed of this shabby attempt to get rid of your 
 liousekeeper." 
 
 Jack felt himself out-generaled, and therefore 
 he obeyed the commands of his conqueror, glad 
 that the terms of capitulation were so agreeable. 
 He might have been required to have dried up 
 Lucy's tears, or to have fumigated her out of 
 hysterics. Lucy exerted herself to prevent the 
 conversation turning into the forbidden channel, 
 but Jack was evidently crest-fallen at his defeat, 
 or scheming how he could resume the offensive. 
 Lucy, perhaps, suspected as much, and when the 
 old clock growled as it was wont, before striking 
 ten (or any other hour), she gave Jack his good- 
 night kiss and prepared to leave the room. 
 
 "Just one question,^^ said Jack. "You are 
 positively determined never to marry ? " 
 
 " Positively, dear boy — I — will — never — marry. 
 Good night.'' 
 
 " Good night,^' said Jack, as Lucy left the 
 room. "You never — will — marry,'' imitating 
 Lucy's manner. " Very well. Now hear me, ye 
 old beams and rafters that for so many years
 
 AVAIT von THE END. 245 
 
 have covered the heads of the Spraggatts, by the 
 last sip of punch remaining in this old tumbler, 
 I will make her marry; and more, I'll make her 
 marry the man of my choice." 
 
 The gin-punch had been more potent than 
 usual, perhaps, but that tyrannical brother 
 repeated his terrible threat as he put on his 
 nightcap preparatory to getting into bed.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 GILBERT ATTAINS HIS MAJORITY. — THERE ARE 
 STRANGE MERRY-MAKINGS AT NORWOLD HALL. 
 
 The festivities at the Hall on the morrow were 
 to be very limited, merely extending to a dinner- 
 party of some of the neighbouring gentry, and a 
 few additions to the servants' table. The snow 
 which began to fall promised from the appearance 
 of the clouds to continue throughout the night, 
 and would necessarily make travelling disagree- 
 able and difficult, and the unconsidered inhabi- 
 tants of Morden prognosticated a limited attend- 
 ance at the old Hall, wherein great merrymakings 
 had been held in olden times. Jasper Jellifer had 
 obtained from the executors of Sir John the 
 much-coveted collectorship, and now became ner- 
 vously anxious as to his possible retention of the 
 office under the new reign about to commence on 
 the morrow, the more so as a smart London gen-
 
 WAIT EOR THE END. 247 
 
 tleman, who had been located for some days at 
 one of the inns in the market place, had paid two 
 or three visits to the Hall, besides making a great 
 many impertinent inquiries concerning the tene- 
 ments and various properties on the Norwold 
 estate. Jasper, we know, was a shrewd man, and 
 he came to believe that the smart London gentle- 
 man might possibly be preparing himself to sup- 
 plant him in the position he had occupied during 
 the past three years. This notion had no sooner 
 possessed him than he set about devising mea- 
 sures for his own security, and early in the morning 
 Jasper Jellifer trudged through the deep snow to 
 Norwold Hall. The family had been early astir, 
 and therefore he found easy access to Mr. Gilbert 
 Nor wold, who, having had breakfast, was sitting 
 in the library conversing with his mother through 
 an open door which led into the little room where 
 Jasper had had his former interview with her 
 ladyship. Gilbert Norwold had not passed un- 
 scathed through the fiery furnace which he had 
 kindled with his own hands, for time had brought 
 no repentance, and he had sought in a freer
 
 248 WAIT FOU THE END. 
 
 indulgence in his old vices, forgetfulness of tlie 
 past. He succeeded often in hushing the still 
 small voice that will be heard at most unwelcome 
 seasons, and amid the most unlikely scenes for 
 the intrusion of such a monitor, and the con- 
 sciousness that this appeal might be heard when 
 least expected, made him more reckless in his 
 pleasures, and impatient of restraint in his pur- 
 suit of them. He inherited somewhat of his 
 father's irritability of temper, and his own un- 
 quiet mind rendered him petulant, dogged, or 
 morose, as circumstances affected him, and there- 
 fore his society was as little courted in the world 
 as it had been when he was at college. He was 
 sensible of his unpopularity, and at times the 
 knowledge stung and mortified him into such 
 retaliation as his selfish and cunning nature 
 enabled him to inflict, and had he been as needy 
 as he was revengeful, he would have been a des- 
 perate man to his own cost as Avell as to that of 
 others. All this was known to Jasper, who never- 
 theless sought the present interview with less 
 trepidation or misgiving of success than he had
 
 WAIT POR THE END. 24 Q 
 
 experienced when he first asked for the appoint- 
 ment which he was about to soUcit again. 
 
 ''Well, Mr. Jenifer/' said Mr. Norwold, "what 
 brings you here so early ? '^ 
 
 "In the first place, Mr. Norwold," replied 
 Jasper, smiling his best, " I will venture to oifer 
 you my heartiest congratulations on this auspi- 
 cious day, and to wish '^ 
 
 "Thank you. Some other business I conclude 
 brought you here ? " asked Gilbert, curtly. 
 
 Jasper bowed, and smiled again as he said, 
 "Certainly, sir, or I should not have dared to have 
 intruded upon you. For nearly four years, sir, I 
 have had the honour to collect the rents of cer- 
 tain properties in Morden, and to the satisfac- 
 tion, I believe, of your late excellent father's 
 executors and your trustees.'^ 
 
 " I have heard nothing to the contrary," said 
 Gilbert. 
 
 " I therefore have ventured to hope that now 
 that the property has passed into your own hands, 
 I may be permitted to retain the collection of the 
 rents."
 
 250 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 " You are a sliarp man of business, Mr. Jellifer, 
 a very sliarp man of business, as I have reason to 
 remember ; but early as your application is made, 
 another has been before jou/' replied Gilbert. 
 
 Jasper was not so much startled or disturbed by 
 this announcement as might have been supposed. 
 
 " But though the application has been made/' 
 said Jasper, " I presume it has not been granted." 
 
 'f Why do you presume so ? " replied Gilbert, 
 sharply. 
 
 '^ Because/' and Jasper spoke in a low tone, 
 glancing at the open door as he did so ; " because 
 I cannot believe that you would have quite for- 
 gotten the small services I have rendered you 
 when they were so much required/' 
 
 Gilbert rose and closed the open door before 
 he replied. 
 
 "For those services, Mr. Jellifer, you were 
 liberally paid. To what they led you no doubt 
 remember, and it is partly because you do so, 
 and partly because I require assistance now, that 
 I contemplate making my London agent the 
 receiver also of my country properties.''
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 251 
 
 "You only contemplate, then/' said Jasper. 
 "You have not decided. I am glad of that, 
 because I think you will find me equally useful 
 in all ways." 
 
 "You have profited by success, I see, Mr. 
 Jellifer, and can be pertinacious instead of obse- 
 quious, as formerly." 
 
 " I can be of use to you, Mr. Gilbert," said 
 Jasper, with a smile ; " and will be, if you will 
 allow me." 
 
 "As you are persistent I must be positive," 
 replied Gilbert. " I decline to continue you as 
 my agent. I am afraid of you." 
 
 " You need not be," said Jasper, with perfect 
 coolness, " if you use me fairly." 
 
 "Fairly, sir ! " replied Gilbert, reddening with 
 anger. *' Use you fairly ! I have always done 
 so, and shall hear no more." He again rose and 
 went towards the bell. 
 
 " Stay, Mr. Norwold ! a very few minutes, and 
 I have finished. The Miller Ray " 
 
 " The scoundrel ! the villain ! " cried Gilbert. 
 " How dare you speak of him to me? "
 
 252 WAIT POR THE END. 
 
 " Because I desire to speak of him to you^ and 
 to no one else/' answered Jasper. " If I leave 
 this room deprived of the appointment I have now 
 enjoyed for four years, I shall depart an injured 
 man to my thinking/^ 
 
 " And what then, fellow ? " asked Gilbert, 
 loudly. 
 
 "Why, then, I will not answer for myself. 
 Injured men brood over their wrongs; and I 
 might do so over mine. I might be led to speak 
 of what I would not utter even within this 
 room." 
 
 "What can you say that I should care the 
 world to hear ? ^' asked Gilbert. " That to pay 
 some youthful follies I was fool enough to apply 
 to you ; that you introduced me to your friend, 
 the scoundrel Ray, and that I had to obtain from 
 my mother the loan of a bracelet, which the 
 villain sold, or pawned, or made away past re- 
 covery. You have been paid the sum I borrowed 
 under that mysterious bond of yours. It was 
 lucky for you, I fancy, that a closer inquiry was 
 not made into that transaction ^'
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 253 
 
 " Pardon me, Mr. Norwold, tliat would not be 
 my story," answered Jasper, his lips livid with 
 suppressed anger. 
 
 " No ! what then, Mr. Jellifer ? " asked Gilbert, 
 speaking loudly as he had done during the latter 
 part of this interview. 
 
 "I should say, sir, that wanting this money 
 most pressingly you had come to me, who was too 
 poor to help you, that you then sought the 
 assistance of the stranger Ray, who mistrusting 
 your ability to pay, demanded security. That by 
 the aid of false keys you entered your father's 
 house, that you returned with a bracelet, how 
 obtained your dead father has declared, that one 
 of a bunch of keys given you by E-ay fitted your 
 mother's cabinet, for the officer Higgler found 
 the keys after a long search in your father's park, 
 and at my suggestion. That you stood by and 
 heard your brother accused of a theft which you 
 could have disproved, and did not. This I might 
 say, Mr. Norwold, under the remembrance of 
 injuries, but which I will carry with me to the 
 grave, if I am fairly used by you. Pray, sir,
 
 254 WAIT POR THE END. 
 
 consider if I cannot serve you. Money if you need; 
 secresy if you desire it.'^ 
 
 During the culmination of this speech Gilbert^s 
 hand sought something in the drawer of the 
 table at which he sat. At the conclusion when 
 Jasper^s voice and manner changed to their usual 
 subserviency, Gilbert hurled behind him some 
 heavy substance, and which the other did not 
 affect to observe. Dreadful thoughts had passed 
 through the mind of Gilbert Norwold ; and many 
 minutes were required to chase them away com- 
 pletely, as he walked to and fro without regarding 
 Jasper Jellifer. 
 
 As soon as Gilbert could obtain sufficient com- 
 mand over himself to allow him to speak, he 
 turned abruptly upon Jasper, and said— 
 
 "Who told you that disgraceful story? Was 
 it Eay ? It was that cold-blooded villain ! Or 
 were you a party to the whole scheme, Mr. 
 Jenifer?'^ 
 
 Jasper protested that it was not until after 
 Ray^s conviction that he had been made 
 acquainted with the circumstance, and when he
 
 WAIT POR THE END. 255 
 
 had vainly urged tlie miller to disclose to whom 
 the bracelet had been consigned. 
 
 Gilbert paused again for some moments, still 
 pacing the room as though he were taking time 
 to enable him to make his next inquiry. 
 
 " Did Kay — did Ray communicate this story — 
 to my — to any one beside yourself, Mr. Jellifer?^^ 
 
 Jasper saw that the arrow which he had shot 
 had struck over the barb, and was fixed for ever, 
 and so he answered — 
 
 "You mean to Sir John? No, sir.-*^ That 
 was a lie, and Jasper knew it to be so. 
 
 Gilbert paused in his walk, and beckoning 
 Jasper to him, pointed to a small pistol lying 
 upon the ground. " You see that instrument of 
 death, Mr. Jellifer, you might have seen me cast it 
 away some minutes ago. Can you guess why I 
 took it from my drawer ? " 
 
 Jasper fixed his eyes full upon Gilbert's, and 
 said quite calmly, " Perhaps with the intention 
 of destroying me, the sole depository of your 
 secret." 
 
 *^ No," said Gilbert, " I am not so mad as that.
 
 256 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 I have thought again and again that a day might 
 come when some voice^ from the grave even, 
 would proclaim the story of my shame and guilt 
 as you have narrated it this day. I thought also, 
 that should such a revelation ever be made I 
 would not live, and that weapon was provided for 
 my own death. I have heard my crime, my 
 shameful crime, described with all its miserable 
 details, and have cast away the instrument of 
 death and dare to live. I have heard how terrible 
 the story sounds from your lips, and will never 
 hear it again if it be possible to buy your silence. 
 You shall have all you ask, more if I have ever 
 the power to grant it. Your interests shall be 
 bound up with my own. I know I cannot touch 
 you nearer, Jasper Jellifer. Let us meet as 
 seldom as possible. Is this agreed between 
 
 Jasper was a shrewd man, and saw at once that 
 as his object was gained, he had better close the 
 interview. '^The confidence you place in me shall 
 never be abused, Mr. Gilbert, and if I have spoken 
 too plainly I hope you will pardon me. I am a
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 257 
 
 self-seeking man I know^ an unforgiving man I 
 grieve to own, and had I left you with a sense of 
 wrong, I know not into what I might have been 
 betrayed. You have trusted me, Mr. Gilbert, and 
 there is no power on earth, no temptation of 
 advantage which can now make me unfaithful to 
 your interests. Good day, sir.^^ 
 
 Jasper bowed respectfully, and without waiting 
 to speak to any one, took his way homeward 
 through the snow, which fell so fast that his foot- 
 steps were soon obliterated by the stainless flakes, 
 and yet his track round about the house of 
 Norwold could be traced for many years to 
 come. 
 
 As Jasper left the room, Gilbert heard a low, 
 rustling noise at the door which led into his 
 mother's apartment, and on opening it he was 
 startled to find her lying in a swoon close 
 beside it. 
 
 " She has been listening,^' Gilbert thought. 
 ^^What has she heard, I wonder? Enough I 
 fancy to make her regret her meanness.^' He 
 raised her up, and having placed her in a chair, 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 rang the bell, which was answered by Lady Nor- 
 wold's maid. 
 
 "Your mistress is not well, Jackson/' said 
 Gilbert, '^ I will send the housekeeper to you, and 
 when her ladyship recovers let me know.'' 
 
 He made his way to the billiard-room, where 
 some of the persons staying in the house were 
 amusing themselves ; wondering as he went why 
 he had never divulged the truth to his mother, 
 feeling how little he was disturbed now by the 
 supposition that she had listened to the story 
 told by Jasper. He had become less frightened 
 at his sin now that he knew he had a sharer 
 in the guilty secret. 
 
 More than an hour elapsed before he was sum- 
 moned to his mother's apartment. He found her 
 looking very pale, but exhibiting a constrained 
 cheerfulness which he did not care to disturb by 
 any inquiries, and neither of them referred to the 
 event of the morning but in the most general 
 terms. 
 
 The snow still fell fast and continuously, as 
 some of the guests who lived near to the Hall
 
 WAIT rOTl THE END. 259 
 
 arrived. It needs a warm-hearted friendship to 
 take men and women from comfortable firesides 
 on a rough snowy winter^s night, miles away, to 
 meet old familiar faces, and how much more to a 
 formal dinner-party. The Norwolds were not 
 surprised, therefore, that when dinner was an- 
 nounced as served, many of their invited friends 
 were absent. Few trifles have a more depressing 
 influence on an assembly than a dinner-table 
 around which there are vacant chairs, and not 
 even when the expected guests are despaired of, 
 can the best Amphitryon rally the flagging spirits 
 of his party. Lady Norwold seemed incapable of 
 making an effort to overcome the effect produced 
 by the absence of her friends, but looked more 
 like the skeleton at an Egyptian feast than the 
 proud mother of a son attaining his majority. 
 She was still very pale, and every effort she made 
 at conversation seemed painful to her. Her 
 friends attributed her condition to disappoint- 
 ment at the absent, and kindly strove to cover 
 her deficiency as hostess by chatter among them- 
 selves. Gilbert, also, was ill at ease, it was evident, 
 
 s2
 
 260 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 but having his feelings more under control, 
 he soon mastered his mortification at what his 
 guilty conscience made him suppose, the inten- 
 tional slight of his absent guests, rather than a 
 necessity imposed upon them by the weather. 
 And so passed the dinner until the family orator 
 rose to propose the health of the youthful host, 
 and as he was a man of many words, and set 
 phrases, he repeated those fulsome panegyrics 
 which we were wont to hear after dinner, and still 
 read upon tombstones. The toast was drunk with 
 enthusiasm by those assembled to do honour to 
 the occasion. One only could not pledge the heir 
 ' perhaps of Norwold, but there she sat with a 
 fixed gaze and livid lips powerless to moisten them 
 with the cool wine in the glass before her. Not 
 even the shouts and clapping of hands which 
 hailed her son a man broke her dreaming, and it 
 was only when tears rushed from her heart into 
 her eyes that she appeared conscious of her place 
 in this, by her, long desired ceremony. None 
 there doubted the cause of her tears and of the 
 succeeding weakness. Was she not Gilbert's
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 261 
 
 widowed mother ? Had he not been the idol of 
 her life, to whom she had offered up all the 
 woman^s love her heart contained ? Was not this 
 day one to be noted and remembered all her life 
 long ? Ah ! yes, it was never forgotten until all 
 else passed into oblivion with it. It was remem- 
 bered daily, almost hourly, but in silence. No 
 word recalled its morning or its evening in any 
 after conversation with Gilbert; and when she had 
 learned to pray, taught by her broken hopes and 
 her chastened selfishness, she entreated pardon 
 and blessings for her son. 
 
 There was mirth and to spare in the servants^ 
 hall, for those good men and women bear com- 
 placently enough the sorrows and mortifications 
 of their masters and mistresses. Why should 
 they do otherwise ? They are not paid for their 
 sympathies, and are soon taught " that service is 
 no inheritance." There are exceptions to this 
 teaching. Good servants, who reckon kindly 
 words and actions as matters to be accounted for 
 at the ending of each day, and just masters, who 
 consider the services of an active and devoted
 
 262 WAIT rOR THE END. 
 
 youtli as debts to be cancelled only by a generous 
 care of a less profitable old age. 
 
 It was a Norwold custom to brew a hogshead 
 of strong ale on the birth of a son to the house, 
 and this brewage was not tapped until the infant 
 arrived at his majority. This ceremony had been 
 duly performed by the old butler, and the strong 
 liquor produced in the servants^ hall in a veritable 
 black jack, which, it was said, had performed a 
 similar duty when the first knight of Norwold 
 won his spurs. The potency of the liquor was 
 soon declared by the increased clamour which 
 followed the circulation of the black jack, and at 
 last it became necessary to conduct the head 
 keeper (whose once curly poll had grown grey in 
 the service of the house) to his cottage in the 
 park. As he was led by his subordinates beneath 
 the windows of the dining-room, he could not 
 be restrained from giving vent to certain opinions 
 which he entertained, but which, from prudential 
 considerations, he usually kept to himself. The 
 strong ale would be heard to-night, and Gilbert, 
 who had returned alone to the dining-room,
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 363 
 
 opened one of the windows to ascertain the cause 
 of the riot, just as the keeper expressed himself to 
 the following effect : — 
 
 "I say Mr. Gilbert bean't a Norwold. Not a 
 bit on't. He don't care a brass farden for 
 shooting, 'untrng, or fishing, and he han't got a 
 Norwold heart in ^um, I tell 'ee. Mr. Gerard 
 was another guess sort of chap altogether ! HeM 
 a made the old pleace what it wor in his feather's 
 time — that is, when his feather was young and I 
 was a boy ! I tell 'ee what, Bill ! Mister Gilbert 
 is a bad 'un, and choused his brother as sure as 
 my neam's Joe. I never emptied a horn to-night 
 as I didn't say Mr. Gerard's good health until he 
 cooms back again — and back he'll coom some day 
 
 as sure as my neam's Joe " And then the 
 
 tipsy mutterings of the old keeper were indis- 
 tinguishable by the listening master, who felt a 
 coldness about his heart that night — colder than 
 the frosty air which had changed the breath of 
 the guests upon the windows into fairy forest 
 trees — as he knew the tipsy man had spoken 
 the truth, and that it would be repeated again
 
 264 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 and again, until it might be heard to his de- 
 struction. His first impulse was to dismiss from 
 his service the ungrateful servant ; but the ques- 
 tion would be asked by his household, in Morden 
 town, and at the market- table, why was old Joe 
 the keeper sent away from Norwold Hall? and 
 he dared not provoke the answer. 
 
 There had been merry-making also in the 
 town of Morden, and the most noisy and the 
 most intoxicated of the revellers was certainly 
 Jasper Jellifer's ward, William Hayes. Jasper 
 had done his duty honourably by the young satyr 
 so long as he could control his conduct — all the 
 neighbours said that. He carefully regulated 
 his outgoings and incomings, and curbed his 
 passion for drink, limiting his potations. Jasper 
 managed this so adroitly that young Hayes 
 vowed there was not a kinder, better fellow in 
 the world than Mr. Jellifer. But when young- 
 Hayes came of age matters changed for the worst, 
 and he was often seen in the mornings with 
 bleared eyes and a flushed face. By-and-by his 
 hands trembled, and rumours were abroad that
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 2G5 
 
 the doctor had been called in to repair, if pos- 
 sible, the ravages of his debauchery. Young 
 Hayes was seldom seen in the market place, 
 except on his way to one of the inns for his 
 morning's draught, and which was frequently so 
 deep that his steps were unsteady when he 
 returned, although he rarely remained after mid- 
 day. 
 
 At last the doctor was a very frequent visitor 
 at Jasper's house, and then it was announced 
 one day, to the surprise of no one in Morden, 
 that young Hayes was dead — dead from drinking 
 brandy continually. 
 
 Jasper's patience had been long worn out, 
 and as he despaired of conquering the young 
 drunkard's love of drink, he had retired from 
 the contest, and yielded up to him the key 
 of the cellar ! Poor William Hayes, like Mad 
 Tom, " found ratsbane by his porridge ; " for 
 brandy was his poison, and he took it and 
 died. 
 
 Jasper had not suspected, he said, the conse- 
 quences likely to follow his own goodnatured
 
 206 WAIT POR THE END. 
 
 imprudence, and would have taken this calamity 
 greatly to heart, no doubt, had he not found an 
 unexpected consolation. He was always a lucky 
 fellow, and now he reaped the reward of the care 
 and trouble he had bestowed on his late ward, 
 William Hayes. The grateful drunkard had be- 
 queathed to Jasper Jellifer all that he was worth, 
 and which amounted, according to popular cal- 
 culation, to nearly twelve hundred pounds. How 
 all Jasper^s windfalls fructified, blown down as 
 they were at his feet, we shall see, if we have 
 patience to wait for the end.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 JACK SPRAGGATT SURPRISES HIS NEIGHBOURS, 
 AND SEES THE LAST OF NORWOLD HALL. 
 
 Jack Spraggatt, mucli to liis credit, had been 
 very unmindful of his sister's injunctions, and 
 had frequently pleaded the cause of his absent 
 friend, without, however, appearing to shake 
 Lucy^s determination in the least. He had not 
 obtained the slightest admission that the pro- 
 posal would have been acceptable to her under 
 any circumstances, but fraternal love quickened 
 the brother's perception, and he had satisfied 
 himself that the happiness of Lucy was absolutely 
 dependent upon a course of conduct opposed to that 
 which she had declared her determination to 
 pursue. Jack was an obstinate fellow when he 
 believed himself to be in the right; particularly 
 obstinate when he thought the best interests of 
 others were under his influence, and at last he
 
 268 WAIT I'OE, THE END. 
 
 determined to compel Lucy to accept the only 
 man lie had ever thought her capable of loving as 
 a husband. Had he arrived at a correct estimate 
 of his sister^s feelings ? He vras sure of that, as 
 he had found her frequently alone, and when her 
 eyes gave evidence that she had been weeping; 
 and he knew that she had no cause for any other 
 sorrow than that which must have resulted from 
 the struggle which she had so nobly maintained 
 between her love for the absent and her sense of 
 duty towards her brother. Jack, therefore, re- 
 solved upon a course of action which he knew 
 would prove effectual in deciding this painful 
 question, and in order to avoid any controversy 
 with his sister he kept his plans to himself until 
 it was quite beyond her power to controvert 
 them. 
 
 He then communicated them to Lucy by aflSx- 
 ing to the wall of their breakfast room a placard, 
 headed 
 
 THE ELMS, 
 
 and whereon was set forth in varied types the 
 startling announcement that Mr. Peter Mallett
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 269 
 
 was instructed by the respected tenant of that 
 very productive and eligible farm to sell by 
 auction the remainder of the lease, together with 
 all the stock, live and dead, farm implements, 
 and household furniture pertaining thereto, with- 
 out reserve, on the last day of the month 
 following. 
 
 Lucy was not quite unprepared for this an- 
 nouncement, as Jack had latterly thrown out 
 vague hints that he had a duty also to perform, and 
 that he would not have the self-reproach of having 
 sacrificed the happiness of his sister to a senti- 
 mentality which could be manfully overcome. 
 
 ^' You seCj my darling,^^ he said, smiling, " to 
 what extremity you have driven me ; and though 
 no loving heart but yours will greet me in the 
 distant land to v/hich we are going together, I 
 shall leave none behind me from whom a separa- 
 tion would be a continual sorrow. I confess that 
 the first sight of that great bill sent a pang to my 
 heart, but that has passed away, and the few re- 
 grets which will remain when I shall look upon this 
 old house for the last time, will be compensated
 
 270 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 for a thousand fold, by the conviction that the 
 beloved dead would approve an act which will 
 pluck from my sister's life that ever rankling 
 thorn — a love unsatisfied/' 
 
 Lucy's head was resting on his bosom as he 
 said this, and the look which filled her face when 
 she turned it up towards his, told him that he 
 had read truly the secret of her heart, and that 
 she was as grateful as she was happy. 
 
 The little world of Morden was busy enough 
 when the knowledge that the Spraggatts were to 
 be sold up, became general, conjecturing, and 
 inquiring as to the cause for such an unlooked- 
 for event. The more the gossips discussed the 
 subject the more perplexed they became, espe-- 
 cially as Jack always appeared to be in the 
 highest spirits, and the best of humours. More 
 than one friend who had stood by the Spraggatts 
 in their recent troubles, were ready to help again 
 if that were needed ; but Jack only thanked them 
 from the bottom of his full heart, and assured 
 them that he should be free from debt and have 
 plenty to spare, when all at the Elms had been
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 271 
 
 knocked down to tlie highest bidders. There 
 were, however, exceptional times when Jack was 
 not so cheerful, and when big sighs and grave 
 looks betrayed the latent pain which comes with 
 a broken home. There are many living memories 
 associated with household things which make the 
 insensate materials almost as dear as though they 
 had life and feeling, and one could sometimes 
 resent their rough handling, and indifferent esti- 
 mate by the callous broker, who sees in them 
 only lots to be dispersed according to conditions 
 of sale, leaving behind them a residuum of com- 
 mission for selling to be paid by the purchaser. 
 Poor Jack had more than one sharp struggle 
 before he would consent to surrender an old 
 chair or table, or piece of ancient crockery that 
 had home legends tacked to it, and some few 
 matters were found to be too sacred to be per- 
 mitted to pass into strangers' hands, and were 
 crowded away into Jack's little counting-house, 
 to be carried to the new home, wherever that 
 might be, giving infinite trouble, and costing ten 
 times their value in transport by sea and land.
 
 272 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 They were held to be more precious for their cost, 
 and were worth the money and anxiety, bringing 
 back as they did for years and years, pleasant 
 remembrances of departed loved ones, and of the 
 old house at home. 
 
 Lucy shared in all these weaknesses, but know- 
 ing for whom this great household sacrifice had 
 been made, she hid her own emotions from Jack, 
 and went about her necessary work bravely, not 
 showing how hard it was to part with so many 
 old familiar things until the morning of the sale, 
 when she prepared to leave the Elms to stay with 
 a neighbour; and then she lingered about the 
 rooms which had echoed to now silent feet, and 
 to her own voice from childhood to that day 
 until she thought (but only for a moment), that 
 the future should be indeed a bright one that 
 could compensate for this severance, as it were, 
 from a past so full of remembered happiness. 
 She wept very sadly as she knelt down in the 
 chamber wherein her parents had died, and re- 
 peated the simple prayers she had said at her 
 mother^s knee, as though she had hoped to hear
 
 WAIT von THE END. 273 
 
 that mother's voice blessing her again, as it used 
 to do when she laid her down to rest. 
 
 Jack saw something of Lucy''s sorrow, and 
 avoided her — great, stupid, coward that he was — 
 and went out busying himself in doing nothing 
 particular, until Lucy was driven off in their 
 neighbour's gig. He then went back alone into 
 the house, and looked very red and flustered 
 when he came out again. 
 
 The stock, both live and dead, had a good repu- 
 tation, and the persons who came to purchase 
 were numerous and respectable. There were 
 plenty of idlers, also, for there are many people 
 who flock to a sale, as others do to a funeral, and 
 not always from the most charitable motives. If 
 there were any present who came to rejoice over 
 the dead fortunes of the Spraggatts, they must 
 have been mystified to have seen how Jack 
 bore himself. He cracked jokes with some, des- 
 canted to others all the prime qualities of his 
 favourite breeds of sheep and oxen, and exhibited 
 his samples of grain with as much cheeriness as 
 he had ever done at the market-cross, and when 
 
 VOL. I T
 
 274 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 prices were rising. He was selling himself off 
 because it pleased him^ and so thorouglily enjoyed 
 the fun, that no doubt he could have mounted 
 the auctioneer's rostrum, in the parlour, or its peri- 
 patetic substitute, the wheel-barrow, out of doors, 
 and knocked down his own lots. It was cus- 
 tomary, and perhaps, it may be so at present, to 
 feed the competing buyers before the business of 
 the day began, and Jack's guests were numerous 
 and hungry enough. The slices of beef roast 
 and boiled which disappeared were truly marvel- 
 lous, and the home-brewed ale was neither weak 
 nor sparingly supplied. Many a timid man who 
 had set a very moderate price on some desired 
 lot came forth a resolute buyer, and would not 
 be outbid by any one who dared to compete with 
 him. The bold became more bold, and paid 
 liberally for their entertainment by " springing a 
 little,'' when good-humouredly taunted by the 
 auctioneer for '' their want of speerit.^' 
 
 The small British farmer of other days was 
 a dull fellow enough when met at his plough- 
 tail, or at dung-carting, or in the harvest fields,
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 275 
 
 as dull as the oxen he drove, or the beasts he 
 fattened. He knew nothing of phosphates and 
 sulphates, and all the other great agents of agri- 
 cultural chemistry, and would as soon have 
 thought of threshing by steam as going up in a 
 balloon to catch larks. He was contented to 
 farm as his feyther had farmed afore him, and 
 only knew that " plenty of muck, plenty of crop.^^ 
 He brightened up greatly on market days, 
 whether he was buyer or seller, and it was diffi- 
 cult to dip your fingers into his leathern money 
 bag more deeply than was conducive to his own 
 interests. He worked hard for his money, and 
 generally knew how to keep it. But he was 
 brightest at a sale, where he always made up 
 his mind to get a bargain if he could, and 
 approached the object he desired very charily, 
 taking shy looks at it, and never closely exami- 
 ning into its merits so long as a possible com- 
 petitor was at hand. When he had satisfied 
 himself of the desirableness of the commodity, he 
 showed no further interest in it until it came 
 under general notice, and then it was to ascer- 
 
 T 2
 
 276 WAIT rOR THE END. 
 
 tain if others had as good an opinion of it as 
 himself, and an intention to purchase. If he 
 could say a word of disparagement, he did so_, and 
 then mostly retired to the outer circle, where he 
 could catch the eye of the auctioneer without 
 attracting attention to himself. His bids were 
 always made by winks, and when the offers of 
 others had nearly reached the limit of his esti- 
 mate, he would thrust his hands into his pockets 
 and take a few turns to keep down his rising 
 anxiety. As the seller dwelt upon the last 
 bid, he would return to his station, and wait 
 until the hammer appeared descending finally 
 before he winked again. He would then fix his 
 eyes on the competing adversary, until it was 
 evident that he would rather have pulled off his 
 coat and fought out the difference between them. 
 When fortunate enough to have been the pur- 
 chaser, he usually gave his name with a blush, 
 as though he were ashamed of his bargain, or had 
 been detected in an act which reflected upon his 
 prudence, and would expose him to the small wit 
 of the market-table. He had bought a bargain,
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 277 
 
 be certain of that, and was no more to be blamed 
 for his caution and cunning than the dowagers 
 who decry the cracked china which they have 
 commissioned Mr. Moses to buy at any sum. 
 
 The Spraggatt sale lasted three days, and the 
 lots fetched excellent prices, but no one, not even 
 ^Ir. Mallett, the auctioneer, could get at Jack's 
 secret, for selling off ; this, he said, still remained 
 '' reserved ^' and was not to appear in the cata- 
 logue. 
 
 The three or four days immediately succeeding 
 the sale were possibly the most painful Jack 
 Spraggatt had ever known ! The cattle and other 
 stock were driven away, and the stalls and sheds 
 left empty. Well that had happened in part 
 often enough before. The farm gear had been 
 subject to change and removal, so let that go ! 
 But those empty rooms ! Those terrible empty 
 rooms which had been never without some dear 
 face, some old familiar object since he could 
 remember ! There were dirty foot-prints and 
 littered straw then over the floor, and the bared 
 walls were stained here and there with the marks
 
 378 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 of picture, map, or weather-glass ! All gone to 
 the homes of strangers, or to the broker's shop 
 in the market place ! Jack blinded his eyes with 
 his two closed hands, to shut out the desolation 
 about him ; but the visions which he then saw, 
 the phantasmagoria of what had been in those 
 old rooms, were more than he could bear, and 
 he walked out into the garden to the yew hedge, 
 where he had been wont to go when his dark 
 hours were upon him. And then he recalled his 
 old struggles with the dreadful skeleton which he 
 had buried at last, and remembered who had 
 given him courage for the contest, and that he 
 owed to her all the happiness of his life. Could 
 he have remained indebted to her for so much 
 when, by the sacrifice of so little, he could 
 reverse their positions, and make her the debtor ? 
 No ! a thousand times no ! and there was comfort 
 in the thought. 
 
 The last evening that Jack Spraggatt was to 
 pass at the Elms arrived, and closed in darkly 
 and stormily. Lucy had gone to London to stay 
 with some friends preparatory to seeking her new
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 279 
 
 home, and poor Jack might therefore be excused 
 feeling lonely and depressed, in spite of all his 
 philosophy. His thoughts had been occupied 
 with the past more than with the future, and, 
 at last, not being able to endure his solitariness 
 any longer, (it had been his own election that 
 he was alone), he put on a rough coat, and walked 
 towards Morden. The market place was almost 
 deserted, but the lights shone brightly in the shop 
 windows, more dimly perhaps in those of the 
 thriving Jasper Jellifer than in any other, as he 
 had always been equally economical in oil and 
 candles as in most other things. It was his 
 shop, however, that Jack entered, but he found 
 only Mrs. Jellifer at home, and that worthy 
 lady's surprise was excusable when Jack asked 
 for her husband, as his visits to them had been 
 of rare occurrence at all times. Jellifer, she said, 
 was down at the mill, which he had continued 
 to tenant since Ray's forcible desertion of it, 
 although it was seldom that the old wheel made 
 its pleasant music. It was principally used as 
 a store-house for some of the larger commo-
 
 380 WAIT FOli THE END. 
 
 dities in which Jasper dealt, and its once pretty- 
 garden was now neglected, and its shrubs and 
 evergreens allowed to grow wild. Thither Jack 
 Spraggatt took his way, guided in some degree 
 by the patches of unmelted snow which lay 
 in the fields and by the roadside, as the night 
 was dark. When Jack reached the mill, there 
 was a light burning in the room where he and 
 Ray had driven their hard bargain some few 
 years before, and he could see through the un- 
 curtained window that Jasper was engaged 
 with some one within, whose figure, as he stood 
 with his back to the window, was not alto- 
 gether unknown to him. Without thinking of 
 what he was doing, Jack continued a quiet spec- 
 tator, and saw that Jasper was paying money, 
 and for which he took no receipt. The man then 
 turned to go, but as his face was partially con- 
 cealed by the brim of his hat and a large necker- 
 chief which he wore. Jack was no wiser than 
 before as to his identity. The unconscious spy 
 then became sensible of the impropriety he was 
 committing, and being rather ashamed to be
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 281 
 
 detected in such a position, walked to the door 
 as Jasper opened it to let out his visitor. The 
 stranger threw a hurried glance as the light 
 fell upon Jack, but contenting himself with 
 observing, "A dark night, sir,'^ walked away- 
 like one well acquainted with the road which, 
 led to the town. The voice, the figure, were 
 both known to Spraggatt, but not sufficiently 
 well to be recognised positively, and as Jasper 
 made no reference to his departed friend. Jack, 
 conscious that he already knew more than he 
 ought to have done, was silent on the subject. 
 
 " You make your visits late to the mill, Mr. 
 Spraggatt,^^ said Jasper. " The last time I met 
 you here, some years ago, I remember was at 
 the same hour." 
 
 "You have a good memory, Mr. Jellifer,^^ 
 replied Jack; "and I remember also, you were 
 in the garden when I came on business with 
 that — man Kay.'' 
 
 "And to-night, have you come on business 
 with me ? " inquired Jasper, without asking Jack 
 to sit down, although they had entered the parlour.
 
 282 WAIT POS, THE END. 
 
 "I have, Mr. Jellifer, thougli you may pos- 
 sibly consider what I am about to say a little 
 impertinent, but as we may not meet again, for 
 some time, I hope you will excuse me." 
 
 '^ Pray sit down, sir,^' said Jasper, evidently a 
 little confused, and desirous, perhaps, to recover 
 his habitual coolness, adding : "I am sure you 
 will not willingly offend me." 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Jack, " no honest 
 man would be offended at what I am about to 
 say ; and I am sure you are — you will not be.^^ 
 
 Jack should have called Jasper an honest man, 
 but somehow, he could not get the words to 
 his lips. 
 
 " You remember, I am sure,^^ continued Jack, 
 " the painful circumstances which occurred at 
 Norwold Hall, some four years ago.^' Jasper 
 bowed. " You were fortunate to escape loss by 
 what followed so soon after to the unfortunate 
 man who then owned the mill." Jasper bowed 
 again, but more slightly than before. " I have 
 never been able to disconnect those two events 
 with each other,-'-' said Jack, " although from the
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 283 
 
 strictest inquiries which I have made, I have 
 learned nothing to justify me in doing so." 
 Jasper bowed again, but smiling as though he 
 would imply, "he should think not," and Jack 
 paused, before proceeding to say more, as doubt- 
 ing how to put the question, he was desirous to 
 ask, inoffensively. He was not very successful 
 when he did speak. 
 
 " It was evident to every one, Mr. Jellifer, that 
 you and Ray had much business together, and 
 trusted each other in many things." 
 
 " Mr. Spraggatt," said Jasper, " I must re- 
 mind you that Ray proved to be a thief, and the 
 associate of thieves — I only knew him as a 
 neighbour, who bore a respectable name, and to 
 whom I foolishly entrusted my hard earnings." 
 
 " All which you recovered, Mr. JeUifer," re- 
 plied Jack, not caring to be hood- winked by 
 Jasper's repudiation of Ray. "You came into 
 possession of all the felon's property, and with 
 that — as I hope — some of his secrets." 
 
 " I don't understand you, sir," said Jasper, in 
 an offended tone.
 
 S84 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 "Pray don't misunderstand me/' replied Jack. 
 " I mean that you saw him more than once after 
 his conviction, and after Higgler — by the bye did 
 he not leave you to-night when I arrived ? '' 
 
 " No, sir/' answered Jasper, flatly. 
 
 " I am mistaken/' continued Jack. " I was 
 about to say, after Higgler had tried in vain to 
 obtain the knowledge that I now seek. You 
 know, or you may have heard, that Mr. Gerard 
 Norwold honoured me with his friendship." Jack 
 could not proceed for some moments. "I am 
 ashamed of this weakness, but I loved him very 
 dearly, and hold his memory very dearly also. 
 I am about to leave England, perhaps for ever, 
 and since I have taken my resolution to do so, 
 I have thought again and again, that it would 
 bfe a great satisfaction, to me and to my sister, 
 if by any effort of mine his fair name could be 
 restored to him." 
 
 " His family and friends have not been idle 
 to discover the means of doing so. I am sorry 
 to add, without effect,'' observed Jellifer. 
 
 "There is one person, possibly, who could do
 
 WAIT FOR THE END. 285 
 
 him justice ?^^ said Jack, fixing his eyes stead- 
 fastly on Jellifer. 
 
 '^What man?^^ asked Jasper, compressing his 
 lips closely together, as though to restrain any 
 exhibition of anxiety. 
 
 " Possibly yourself, Mr. Jellifer," answered 
 Jack ; " or if not you, the person who still has 
 possession of the diamond bracelet, which, as 
 there is a heaven, Gerard never had in his 
 possession.'^ 
 
 " How do you know that ? '^ asked Jasper, 
 earnestly. 
 
 " Because Gerard has said it, and he was too 
 noble for falsehood. The man who holds that 
 bracelet could prove it also, possibly. There 
 might be some slight incident connected with his 
 possession of it, which would cast a clearer light 
 than has been yet thrown on that dark trans- 
 action. Are you the man ? " 
 
 " I am not the man," replied Jasper, with 
 pardonable warmth. " You do me great injury 
 in supposing that I could be the man." 
 
 " Pray forgive me, Mr. Jellifer ; I ought not
 
 286 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 to have encouraged such a thought ; but as certain 
 papers were found in this room that led to the 
 terrible accusation of my dear friend, and as you 
 became possessed of so much which had been 
 
 Ray's, I hoped that you might I mean that 
 
 for your own security — a pardonable fear of 
 implication " 
 
 '' I might have been as bad a man as Raymond 
 Ray. I thank you, sir j^^ said Jasper, rising. ^^ I 
 have hitherto borne an honest name, Mr. Sprag- 
 gatt, and thought myself secure from such an 
 insult as you have offered me.^^ 
 
 " I cannot recall what I have said, Mr. Jellifer. 
 If I have given you pain I am sorry for it. One 
 question more, and I have done. As you will 
 one day have to answer for all evil done in act 
 or knowledge, I ask you if you know who does 
 possess that bracelet ? " 
 
 Jack rose up as he spoke, and Jasper recoiled 
 from him, as though he feared some violence; but 
 seeing that his questioner had no such intention, 
 he answered firmly — and truthfully — " I do not 
 know. I cannot even guess who had it.^^
 
 WAIT rOK, THE END. 287 
 
 " Then the mystery must continue unresolved, 
 and a fair name remain dishonoured/^ said Jack, 
 with great emotion. " It matters nothing to the 
 dead, and little, I fancy, to the living ; and so 
 good bye, Mr. JelUfer. Let us part friends. Life 
 is too short for evil thoughts or evil actions. 
 Good bye, sir.'' 
 
 They shook hands, and Jasper led the way to 
 the door. The night was intensely dark, and as 
 they walked to the garden gate, a sudden light 
 shone for a moment and disappeared. 
 
 '' Was that lightning ? " asked Jellifer. 
 
 Before Jack could reply it shone again, but 
 now continuously, and when they turned to find 
 the cause, they saw that Norwold Hall was 
 in flames. The first impulse of both men was 
 to run to the burning house, but Jack Spraggatt 
 went no further than the wicket which led into 
 the park, and from which he could see the flames 
 through the avenue of old trees, which now 
 formed, as it were, a frame to the fiery picture. 
 
 " What should I care if every trace of that 
 house wherein such wickedness haA been done,
 
 288 WAIT FOR THE END. 
 
 should perish in the fire ! Let it burn ; and 
 may the injuries inflicted within its walls be 
 forgotten and forgiven ! Strange ! strange ! that 
 my last walk to my old home should be by the 
 light of such a torch as Nor wold Hall ! '^ 
 
 Jack took the road to the Elms, occasionally 
 pausing to look back at the fire, and listen to the 
 clanging of the church bells, as they were rung 
 backwards, the inharmonious noise awakening the 
 early sleepers, and rousing the convivial sitters in 
 the town of Morden. Very soon every man's 
 face was towards the burning Hall, and women 
 and children ran beside them to see the great 
 house on fire ; but Jack Spraggatt turned his 
 back upon the blazing mass which lighted up the 
 heavens, and cast his shadow before him on the 
 pavement of the old High Street, and the path- 
 way beyond it, almost to the porch of the Elms, 
 on the last night he was to call that old house by 
 the name of home ! 
 
 £Ky^i 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 rur AND ETANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.